Full Moon Strays Ch. 06

When it was over, Jane almost felt cheated. She had expected more. She had some new bruises and was bleeding from a cut lip, and Red was in much the same condition. But the Shoggoth finally toppled, crashing to the ground. The darkness that made it up began to melt, seeping into the earth and disappearing from sight, leaving the remains of Patrick's body behind. And around the two girls was silence. Then, a few crickets began to chirp and the world returned to normal. A demi-god had just died, but the earth was going to show no remorse at its passing. Red and Jane stared at the ground for a moment. Then Red gathered up Patrick's remains and tossed them into the woods before reverting to human form. When the body was finally found . . . IF the body was found, there would be no way to connect it back to her. She walked over and held Jane close.

"Let's go," she said. "I think that's enough excitement for one night.

"I was hoping," Jane began, looking up into Red's eyes and biting her bottom lip, "that we might have some more excitement." Jane, much to her own surprise, still needed to work off some energy. "You know, when we get to the hotel?"

Red shook her head, but was smiling while she did so. "I don't think I'll EVER figure you out."

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At the motel . . .

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It wasn't as romantic as Jane would have liked. Neither woman had engaged in much personal grooming for weeks and both smelled like they had just been in a fight. They were bruised, battered, and Jane was still ginger with her healing arm. But nothing short of an act of God was going to keep them apart that night.

As soon as they had paid the deposit and gotten in the room, Jane had turned and with a bit of her traditional shyness returning, she slowly raised up on her toes, keeping contact with Red's eyes until the last possible second, and then kissed her. She could taste Red's sweat (and a little bit of her blood), but she couldn't remember anything feeling as good as those lips against her own.

"Are you sure you want this now?" Red asked.

"Yes," came the reply. "I really do."

Red picked Jane up, minding her arm, and carried her over to the full-sized bed with blue-floral bedspread folded back so nicely. The room was overly cool, as motel rooms often are, with the hum of the antiquated air-conditioning unit emanating from under the window. Red lay down next to Jane, slightly to the side. As she kissed the young woman some more, she let a hand wander down Jane's front to the crotch of her jeans, squeezing her mound gently through the fabric. Jane gasped, but obviously not from pain. She had come home to confront someone who had taken her by force. Now, she was giving herself willingly to someone far more worthy.

Jane felt Red's hand release her momentarily, then slide under the snug waist of her pants. Jane felt Red's fingers approaching the slightly fuzzed and slightly moist entrance to Jane's body. Those fingers touched the southern-most point of Jane's slot, drawing their way upward and an excruciatingly slow pace. It slid up and down, just barely entering the cleft and lighting up Jane's who body. She sent her magical hair out, removing her clothes as well as Red's leathers.

"That stuff comes in handy," Red said as Jane's hair caressed her now-bare back as it retracted to its normal length. It was actually kind of ticklish. But its silky caress didn't have nearly the effect that Red's finger was having on Jane's body. The smaller woman's skin was already getting goosebumps as she gripped her normalized hair, bucking her hips slowly against her lover's hand.

Red stopped her kiss, but withdrew only a little bit, then ran her tongue around Jane's lips. Jane tried to capture that tongue and draw it into her mouth, but Red was crafty. She kept it just out of Jane's hungry mouth until the girl's breath grew desperate and ragged. Then there lips made contact again, they shared a jolt of electrical pleasure and their tongues danced together.

Finally Red's finger stopped skimming the surface and began exploring Jane's depths. The red headed woman sank her middle finger in and left her palm pressed against Jane's clitoral hood. Her finger pumped rapidly while her palm pumped more slowly, but they were each effective in their own way. Jane let her good arm reach around and hold Red as close as she could and still be able to breathe. And when Jane started to climax, she moaned directly into Red's mouth and that connection was so solid that no sound escaped. But a great deal of Jane's nectar escaped as she left her mark on Red's hand and the cheap hotel comforter.

Red wanted to pull back for a moment and give both girls a chance to catch their breath. Jane was having none of it. She kept kissing until they both ran out breath, and even then only parted reluctantly.

"Is it my turn?" she asked.

"There are no turns," Red responded. "Just sharing."

Jane kissed Red's neck, sliding her own hand down to Red's crotch, pushing her finger inward and matching her lover's tempo. Her hair extended, wrapping both in a cocoon as it obeyed her subconscious desire to never let Red go. She had been running for so long with tears in her eyes that she didn't realize until that night in the graveyard that she had arrived somewhere that maybe . . . just maybe . . . she had been supposed to go all along.

"I can love you now," she whispered during one of the few moments they weren't joined at the lip. "I do love you now."

Red shifted her invading finger, curling the tip and rubbing against an unseen spot. "How about now?"

Jane was seeing stars. "I REALLY love you now!" She again tried to emulate her lover and after a little practice, met with some success. Of course, that didn't stop Red from getting Jane off a second time before Jane was able to, with ragged breath and a trembling hand, return the favor.

The small room smelled heavily of their sex and the throes of the lovemaking seem to have seeped into the very walls. But Jane wasn't done. She commanded her hair to release its grip, but only so that it could lift her up off the bed while protecting her arm, spinning her around and holding her face just over Red's beautiful pussy. Red got a bird's-eye view of Jane's sweetness in the process. It looked good enough to eat to the red headed carnivore, so she dove it with an appetite. Jane's own oral attempts started much more gingerly and exploratory, but she grew in confidence with each moan or contented grunt that she elicited from her more experienced partner.

Red's tongue was in so deep that Jane thought it might pop out the other end, and the lycanthrope's thumbs were massaging the peach-fuzz on Jane's swollen outer labia. Her touches sent shocks through Jane's body while her tongue grounded the young woman.

Jane was spending much more time around the surface, tasting her little piece of the pie with her tongue, one inch at a time. One of her favorite spots to savor was the clit. True, it was kind of taking the easy way out in regards to getting a reaction, but she was still learning. She just knew that pleasing Red was important to her. She also realized that she had been holding herself up with her enchanted hair for quite some time now without tiring. 'I'm getting better and a lot of things,' she thought happily.

Red sucked Jane's inner labia into her mouth, letting out a playful growl as she tugged them with her lips. Jane had only one response . . . to latch her mouth around that sensitive nub and just suck as hard as she could. The lycanthrope thought her eyes were going to be sucked into her stomach with the kind of pressure Jane was applying.

Red released those inner lips and started moving her tongue up and down the cleft with blurring speed, but it was too late. Jane was going to win that round hands down, making Red's body shiver with delight. She bucked her hips, forcing her crotch harder against Jane's sweet mouth, letting the girl taste the fruits of her victory.

Jane just suckled contentedly at the moist fleshy bits as Red continued her "work." It didn't take long. She licked at Jane like a really big kitty at a saucer of milk, and eventually got the cream inside. The younger woman was too exhausted for her body to put much into the orgasm, but the pleasure she felt was no less than the first time.

The two women were sweating and breathing hard, but both were also smiling. Red looked at the bed, then called the front desk to see if they could get some new sheets. She threw on a spare set of clothes, ran down to the office and headed back with dry linen, making an excuse about "spilling something." By the time she got back, Jane had fallen asleep in a chair, and Red gently lifted her up and tucked her into bed.

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The next morning at the Den . . .

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Talia was sitting next to the remains of the main table, looking around. The Strays had decided to move, but she had to admit that she would miss the place. For all the blood on the paved stone and metal tracks, the Den had some good memories. Her good times with Tarloh . . . Mindy yelling at her brothers for a prank they had played . . . Anya belly-dancing on the table . . . Red and Robbie arm-wrestling for an hour . . . good times. But she saw something that Red hadn't quite grasped. It was just a place. What had made it "home" was the people, and the people could move. They NEEDED to move. She sighed. Before going to bed, she needed to see how her best friend was doing.

She went to the supply area and grabbed one of the pre-paid cell-phones the Strays had acquired. She headed down a tunnel and closer to the surface, hoping that Red would have called to let her know that they had gotten to where they were going safely. She checked the messages and found out that she had just missed Red's call.

"Drat," she mumbled, sitting underneath a drainage gate where she could get the best signal as she listened to Red's message.

"Hey . . . everyone," the voice came. "Uhm, we've . . . we've got a lot to report. Don't worry when I tell you this, but the Shoggoth came after us." Talia's heart jumped out her throat. "But," Red's voice continued, "we actually managed to kill the damn thing. It had possessed Patrick's body . . . he's dead too, if anyone wants to cry about it . . . but it just wasn't as strong as I thought. I guess Jane fucked it up more than we suspected. Anyway, that's one less problem. Jane . . . Jane didn't have to do anything bad. I'll explain . . . actually, I'll let her explain when we get back. I think we're going to have to stay an extra day. Jane has some business she needs to take care of out here. Well, she's waking up, so I should probably get going. Take care, and let me know where I'm going to be meeting up with you guys when we get back."

Talia walked back to the Den with her eyes as wide as pie-plates. The rest of the Strays except Shield (who was on first watch) were asleep. She wanted to wake them and tell them the good news immediately, but decided to wait. Let them start off their night with a good howl before they prepared to face a new enemy. She didn't want to wake up Tarloh, so she headed down and slept in Red's chamber for the day. Could it be that something had really finally went their way?

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Out east . . .

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Jane's morning had been exhausting to say the least. She had met with the sheriff, the judge, someone from the department of paroles . . . Jane was the sole heir to her mother's estate, such as it was. Now, she was waiting in the overly-clean and glaringly white waiting room of the psychiatric hospital. The front staff had been surprised, as had the guards and orderlies. No one had come to visit Ms. Abigail Collier in a long time except her lawyer. The head nurse wasn't sure what to expect. Abigail hadn't spoken since before being sentenced.

"Don't be surprised if she doesn't talk to you," the nurse said. "She hasn't said a word in years."

"I know," Jane whispered.

"There will be a guard in the room and we can view the cameras from here. You will be perfectly safe," the woman said. She wanted to ask where the inmate's daughter had been all these years, but didn't. She had read the file, so she knew that Jane didn't really owe anyone any explanations.

"I'll be right here," Red said, having a seat in the lobby.

Jane walked down the barren hallway to the locked door. There was a guard on this side . . . a large, brutish looking woman who didn't look particularly interested in goings on. The door whirred and clicked as Jane approached, and it appeared to open of its own accord.

The next room had a number of small white plastic tables surrounded by white plastic chairs. The tables were placed at clearly defined intervals from each other. It looked . . . bleak. Only one table was occupied, and its occupant was sitting with her back to the door.

Abigail Collier was in a daze. She had been for a long time. She didn't feel comfortable in that room. It always felt as hollow as she did. She was only in it when her attorney dropped by to check on her. He had been there just a month . . . a few . . . actually, she didn't remember the last time. Not that it mattered. Nothing ever really changed or . . .

"Mom?"

Abigail's silent and dry world came to a halt. 'Impossible,' she thought. She knew she was disturbed. Apparently, she had now officially gone insane. 'That voice . . . God, why are you tormenting me? I am being punished, but now you mock me?' She heard the voice again. It was a voice filled with no small amount of fear, but it was so clear and so real.

"Mom? It's me," came the voice in a choked whisper.

Jane's mother's hands were trembling and her skin had gone cold. Did she dare? She stood up. She heard the inside guard shift her weight nervously. She slowly turned her head, peeking through her unkempt hair. She saw her angel. Older, but innocent. Beautiful, but tired. Hopeful, but afraid.

"Juh . . ." she started, her throat raspy from disuse. "Jane?"

Jane was crying. She had, in some corner of her heart, wanted to hate her mother for letting what happened happen. But she couldn't. Her mother . . . this broken bird before her . . . was punishing herself. So Jane went with something that came much more naturally to her spirit and temperament. She wanted to offer solace. Guards and cameras be damned, she threw her arms around her mother and wept.

Her mother was dumfounded. The tears came, but she was scarcely aware of them. What did finally arrive was the realization that her daughter was there. After all those years, the girl she had failed had returned.

The guard looked surprised, as did the nurse watching over the monitor. It was clear that Jane was in no danger, so they allowed the embrace to continue despite it being a violation of policy. The nurse was just shocked to hear Abigail's voice. All the therapists, counseling and drugs the doctors could concoct couldn't do what this young woman's presence had accomplished.

"I'm . . . so . . . sorry," Abigail cried.

"Me too," Jane whispered. "Me too."

"I didn't protect you. I should've known . . . I could have stopped him . . ."

"I should have said something. Then maybe you wouldn't be in here," Jane replied.

"I deserve to be here." Abigail was crying so much it hurt. "If not for killing that son of a bitch, I should be here for letting him do that to you." She broke away from her daughter, feeling years and years of shame that had gone into a numb remission boiling out of her pores. "I . . ."

"You didn't do this Mom! Jack was the one who did it. Not you, not me, not Dad . . . I wanted to blame someone so badly too. I figured something out last night. I went and visited Dad. I was so desperate that I wanted to blame him. But it wasn't him. If he was alive . . . but he's not. Mom, you're all the family I've got."

"And you're all I have left of William. But how can I be your mother in here? How can you even stand to look at me?"

Jane walked over and hugged her mom. "The same way I'm learning to look at myself. Mom . . . I've done some pretty . . . disgusting things to try and get by and feel . . . normal. I'm not proud of my life. But I've met someone who makes me feel special and makes me feel like I'm worth something. Someone I think I'm in love with and who I think loves me."

Down the hall, the head nurse was wiping her eyes with a tissue, then offered the box to Red, who was watching the monitor. Red refused, mumbling something about her allergies, but she whipped her eyes with one hand when no one was looking.

"I live in Springfield California now. I'm kinda between jobs, but I've got friends now and a place to live . . . sort of. It's not great but . . . but I'm starting over. I want you in my life Mom. I think Dad would have wanted it that way."

"I think he would've been proud of you right now," Abigail responded. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "God, what am I going to do? I'm in here for . . . for God knows how long. What I did was wrong. Even if it felt right."

"I know. I've already talked to almost everyone I can. Sheriff Horton wants me give some kind of statement about . . . about what happened. He doesn't know if it will help, but it couldn't hurt."

Abigail sat down, staring discontentedly off into space. Jane sat down next to her.

"Are you . . . staying in the area?" Abigail asked.

Jane sighed. She felt guilty, but, "No. I . . . I have a place in Springfield. But I'll write and I will come back to visit. I promise. And if . . . when you get out, I want you to come out to California."

"I can't sweetie. I love you and I want you to write and visit but . . . your father is buried here. If I ever get out, I want to stay near him."

"But he's dead Mom. You're not. Don't you want to start over?"

"I think we just did," Abigail said, gripping her daughter's hand. "I think we just did."

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At the Den . . .

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Robbie was sitting alone near one of the entrances to the tunnels. He was dead tired and had drifted off several times while leaning against the inside of the overflow tunnel. But he wanted to wait and see if his sister was going to call again. Like everyone, he had been stunned to hear that the Dark One was dead, and wanted to fill big sis in on the new plan. Then, at one moment he opened his eyes and noticed there was someone else in the tunnel with him.

"Not much of a lookout, are you?" the large man asked in an amused tone. The man was almost as big as Tarloh. Huge shoulders and arms, and his broad chest and powerful legs were clad in something that resembled snake-skin armor.

'No,' Robbie thought, preparing to wolf-out. 'Crocodile armor.'

"Ho there short stuff," the man continued, a smirk on his lips. "If I wanted to fight you, I'd have started and finished by now." He offered his hands. "I got word that you folk were looking for my services, but I've also heard a bit about what's been goin' on out heah."

Robbie detected a faint Louisiana accent, or at least it matched what Robbie had heard in old voodoo movies.

"I also figgered you wound'n want a stranger just poppin' in all uninvited like. So I thought I'd wait until you'd finished with yer beauty sleep."

Robbie was annoyed. Mostly because he'd been caught napping, but secondly because a total stranger was rubbing it in.

"And you are?" Robbie felt like a moron. It was pretty obvious who this had to be.

"The fuckin' Easter Bunny," the man Robbie assumed was Croc said. "Now take me to your leader."

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Down below . . .

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The Croc had listened quite intently as a roused Tarloh and Natasha explained to the newcomer what the situation was. While concentrating, the large man was eerily silent.