by Helen Harper
Thanks to their efforts in the area, crime was at an all-time low. Muggings, rapes, stabbings … they didn’t happen on the Shepherd’s turf. The police should be giving him a fucking medal. Three successive mayors and four different governments hadn’t been able to achieve what he’d done. His targets might feel like tragic victims but they only had to deal with the minor injustice of violence-free crime, unlike the people here who’d suffered generations of social injustice that affected their education, job prospects, housing and health. His people were the real victims.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he muttered. He strode over to the window and gazed out. It was barely seven in the morning and London was already wide awake. He glowered at the city laid out in front of him before dropping his gaze closer to home. There was a couple he didn’t recognise standing near the car park. Even from this distance, they looked far too smart and well-dressed to belong. The woman was brunette with long hair clipped back in a tight bun, while the man wore an immaculate blue suit and held himself too stiffly. They stuck out like a sore thumb.
Devereau narrowed his eyes. No doubt they were more of the journalists Gaz had been talking about. He considered marching down to confront them and make it clear that they weren’t welcome. It was tempting, but it wouldn’t improve his current situation. He tore his eyes away.
Fourteen storeys below his window, three people barely out of their teens were milling around on the path. He recognised them immediately. Unlike the journos, this lot had grown up here. He’d seen them change from cheeky kids to horny teenagers to young adults who cared about their community. Hell, last year one of them had baked him a bloody cake for his birthday. They were his people; he wasn’t going to abandon them just because every so often he turned furry. His tastes might have changed, but his motivation hadn’t.
He watched the glum trio. It didn’t take an expert in body language to recognise how unhappy they were. Devereau unfastened the catch on the window and opened it slightly. Two weeks ago, he couldn’t have made out much more than the murmur of their voices from this distance but since he’d been bitten things had changed. No, not things. Everything had changed.
‘None of this is our fault,’ the dungaree-clad young woman complained.
‘Yeah,’ her friend muttered. ‘We’re being treated like animals just because he’s an animal.’
‘I saw him the other night, you know. He’s not an animal.’
Devereau relaxed slightly.
‘He’s a monster.’
He slammed the window shut and turned away.
‘Boss?’ Gaz asked. He twisted fingers together and looked anxious.
‘How many people have come forward so far?’
Gaz swallowed. ‘Come forward?’
‘To be bitten,’ he growled. ‘To be turned.’
Gaz paled slightly. ‘I thought the law meant that…’
Devereau felt his anger hardening into something colder. ‘Since when did we care about the law?’
‘Boss,’ Gaz whispered, ‘nobody else wants to be a werewolf.’
The door swung open and Alice stomped in, pigtails whirling. She threw herself onto the sofa and reached for the remote control.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Devereau asked. She didn’t answer immediately. He nodded at Gaz, who got the message and withdrew, relief written all over his face at his temporary reprieve from further questioning.
Devereau walked over and sat beside his niece. ‘Alice,’ he said gently, ‘has something happened?’
Her bottom lip trembled. ‘I was supposed to be going swimming with Becky and Chloe. I got up early especially.’
Until recently, when her cancer had gone into remission, Alice hadn’t been able to go swimming. Being healthy enough to go out for the day with friends and do normal kid things was a big deal for her.
‘They’ve changed their plans?’ he prodded.
‘Chloe’s mum said they were going to visit family instead.’ She threw him a baleful glance. ‘But I saw their bags. They’re not going to see family. They’re still going swimming.’ Her mouth set into a mutinous line. ‘They just don’t want me to go with them.’
The cold rage in his veins turned to brittle ice and his right eyebrow started to twitch and spasm. ‘Go back to your mum, Alice,’ he said. He considered himself Alice’s guardian as much as his sister Natasha was her mother. Being a werewolf didn’t change that, but he wasn’t best placed to look after Alice right now. ‘Stay with her today.’
Her hurt was palpable. ‘So now you don’t want me either?’
He took her hands in his and squeezed them gently. ‘I’ll always want you. But I’m going to take a shower and head out.’
‘Where are you going?’
He set his jaw. ‘To see a woman about a wolf.’
THE NOOSE OF A NEW MOON IS AVAILABLE AT AMAZON AND ON KINDLE UNLIMITED NOW
About the Author
After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan and Malaysia, Helen Harper left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of Independent Authors and writes full time, thanking her lucky stars every day that's she lucky enough to do so!
Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.
She currently lives in Devon in the UK with far too many cats – not to mention the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards and vampires that seem to keep appearing from nowhere.