It was raining in Jackson, Tennessee when L J Austin rode into town. Rain streamed off his long, stringy hair mixing with the mud and other grime coating his leathers. His motorcycle was a strange mixture of many brands and styles. It made an unusual put-put-put noise as he pulled in under the gas station canopy.
L J sat on his bike for a couple moments staring out at the rain. The ride took way longer than he expected it to. Reaching out with his leather clad hand he pulled several sheets of window cleaning paper out of the dispenser. Wincing, he wiped his face off. Without all the dirt and road dust the scars could be plainly seen under his hair.
“You need gas, mister?”
L J looked over his shoulder to see a short red-haired teenager in a gas station uniform approaching him. “No. Is there someplace I can get a drink around here?”
The kid stopped and stared at the mud covered stranger. “Sure. We’ve got beer and stuff inside, but about the only place that’s open this time of night is the Moon.” He pointed back toward Interstate Forty.
“What the hell’s the Moon?” L J asked.
“You didn’t see the signs coming in? It’s the biggest and best barbeque this side of Memphis. Blood Moon BBQ is the name, but we all just call it the Moon around here. It’s on the other side of the highway next to the RV park,” the red-head answered.
L J pulled off his wet, slimy leather gloves and pushed his hair out of his face. A large one percent symbol stood out on his hand along with a stylized wolf paw tattoo. He ignored the kid’s intake of breath when his scars became visible. “Thanks.”
He watched the kid beat a hasty retreat back into the gas station office. He chuckled to himself. Not everyday someone sees a monster out on the road. The rain was letting up a bit, so he pulled his gloves back on and gave his bike a crank. The put-put noise was familiar and soothing to him after so many years of riding solo. Time to see what this town had to give.
Finding the Moon was easy once he knew about it. The signs were everywhere. The one thing that stuck out in his mind was the wolf and moon logo. It reminded him of his past. Whether that was a good thing was questionable.
Blood Moon looked like the perfect place for an outlaw biker like L J to hang out it. It was almost too good to be true.
L J parked his bike under the lone oak tree in the parking lot. A few scattered trucks and cars surrounded him at the edge of the lot. Looking to his left he could see the tops of RVs sticking up over the fenced-off lot.
The magnetic feel of a Magickal ward hit him as soon as he approached the front door. Looking from side-to-side L J could see the slight color shimmer he associated with wards. He nodded. This confirmed what he picked up in that bar in Arkansas. Biker gangs were hit or miss. Especially with independents like he was. He almost didn’t make it out of the bar that time.
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