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Wolf Rain
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or
have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual
events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Wolf Rain
Copyright © 2008 by Flesa Black
ISBN: 978-1-60504-347-0
Edited by Heidi Moore
Cover by Anne Cain
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2008
Wolf Rain
Flesa Black
Dedication
To my husband, a living encyclopedia of little-known facts, who is patient enough to
explain why physics really does have a place in a story.
To my partners in crime, who were willing to read, shred and still made me feel
competent.
To Tiberius, foot warmer, ribbon eater, laptop-computer lover and writing familiar.
You are missed.
Wolf Rain
Chapter One
It was raining. But then it was always raining. Watery light spilled out from the gray
clouds, casting silvery shadows along the tall buildings and sidewalk. Puddles smacked
against the soles of her black tactical boots, sloshing the grungy liquid over the rounded
tips. A quick breeze ruffled her hair and she pulled her black trench coat farther around
her body. Even spring in England was cool, though nowhere as harsh as the winters. Only
thirty years before, there had been sunlight, moments of bright rays that warmed a
person’s body. A trip to the beach meant heavy sunscreen. People could picnic under
shady trees or even out in the open instead of under rain-blocking canopies. But now life
was about hurrying through the days when humans were safe, and surviving the nights
when monsters roamed the streets.
In the distance, Big Ben rang its deep, sedate chimes five times. She had an hour
before she had to be inside, securing her flat, checking the windows, making sure
everything was dead-bolted and padlocked. She also liked to give herself plenty of time
for the soothing routine of brewing tea and putting on the television to watch the
prerecorded shows. Shows calculated to keep the populace calm during the night. No one,
not even studios or radio stations, would dare to work past moonrise.
She was turning the corner, her eyes searching the growing shadows, when she saw
movement in the periphery of her vision. If she hadn’t been vigilant, she would have
missed it. She moved quickly, dodging to the left and up, avoiding the body that flung
itself at her. She immediately grabbed the palm-sized spray can she always carried in her
pocket, yanking it up to point it at the quivering animal who stared and growled.
“Leave off, you bastard. Go prey on a bunny rabbit before I cause you permanent
damage,” she warned with terse words.
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