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A predator stalks a cold northern Minnesotan town. There is talk of wolves walking on two legs and attacking people in the deep woods. Lauren Westlake, resourceful and determined F.B.I Agent, has found a connection between the strange murders in the north and a case file almost a hundred years old. Traveling to the cold north, she begins an investigation that spirals deep into the darkness of mythology and nightmares. Filled with creatures of the night and an ancient romance, the revelation of who hunts beneath the moon is more grisly than anyone could have imagined.
turn him over to mental health authorities.” Montgomery scowled. “We don’t have any mental health facilities this far north. I agree we should keep him here at least the night. I will think about sending him over to one of those Christian, Jesus centers, or whatever the hell they are called.” Mrs. Meadows, portly and smelling as if she had a date at a brothel, approached. “Agent Westlake?” Lauren had crossed her arms. Turning, she appeared more fearsome than she would have liked. “Mrs.
glad you are opening your eyes, sheriff. Something is stalking the quiet populace of Locke.” * Watching the lights of the apartment, the creature saw the shadowed forms of the police force moving about. Hateful, hungry eyes stared out through darkness and thicket. Steam rose from the heaving chest, blood and gore covering its hairy body. Patches of sewn flesh stunk of salt and sweat. One arm hung in the semidarkness illuminated by the scattered puzzle of lights from the apartment complex;
shall be this very night.” Dominic did not take kindly to the guide’s words. Snarling, he barred his teeth. “If you know such things, why not help? Why not warn Lauren? I saw that she came here last night. What madness did you fill her mind with?” Hecate placed her tea cup down and grasped a long weave of fabric. Vibrant colors in strange, runic patterns were stitched within. She thumbed one of the runes, closing her eyes as she did so. “I told her of the present, though not her future. I
living room. Dominic laid her down on the couch, her hair cascading around her beaming face. An unzipping here and a few calculated pulls there and the pair were blissfully naked with one another. He looked down at her. His long legs were muscular: runner’s legs. His black body hair was tastefully placed, almost as if it had been manicured that way. She found herself blushing at the thick contours of the muscles of his body, all of the muscles. He had the body of a deity, though one who had
saw it coming, maybe it chased her.” The deputy watched quietly. “Either way she hid in this bush until whatever got her, dragged her free.” Ms. Collins, local medical examiner, in all her burlesque glory on the cold bitter morning, walked over to the sheriff and deputy. Her hands were covered in black gloves. Bright orange lipstick accented her face; the bee hive she wore so proudly was streaked with black and white. “I think your assumption might be correct, sheriff.” Montgomery looked at