Bitter Moon

by R. L. Giddings

  Carlotta flicked the hair off her face. “Anyway, she seems to take it all in her stride. And don’t forget Silas, of course. He’ll be there to help.”

  Just the mention of him was enough to make me feel flustered. Carlotta hadn’t mentioned him once since we’d arrived, it was almost as if she was trying to manage my expectations. I was desperate to see him but still felt hurt after the way he’d treated me. I wanted to say that to Carlotta but I still didn’t know her well enough. It wasn’t as if she was completely impartial. She was his sister after all.

  “It’s very difficult for Silas at present,” Carlotta continued. “My mother’s been putting on him ever since he got back.”

  “Any particular reason?” I said, negotiating my way around a particularly large pot-hole.

  “My father disappeared two years ago. It’s been difficult for all of us.”

  “Disappeared? You mean abroad?”

  “We don’t know where he’s gone. There was a note but … it’s complicated.”

  I wanted to ask if there was anyone else involved but it didn’t feel appropriate.

  “Your father’s the pack leader, right?”

  Carlotta gave me a sideways glance. She clearly wasn’t happy discussing the topic.

  “That’s right, and five years ago everything was fine. Old rivalries had been resolved and the social order was clearly established. Everyone knew where they stood.”

  “But with your father’s disappearance…”

  “My mother kept quiet about it for twelve months but eventually even she had to come clean. This is the first hunt ball where it’s all been out in the open. Some of the young men who were teenagers when he left are starting to ask questions.”

  “I get it. They’re challenging the make-up of the pack.”

  “That’s right and, without my father around to keep a handle on things…”

  This was social mobility with a cutting edge. If the lycans felt that they weren’t being given the respect they deserved then the outcome could be violent.

  “So why not just cancel the hunt?”

  “That would be an admission of weakness. We always hold the ball here. She’s hoping that as long as everyone turns up and pays their respects then the status quo will be maintained.”

  She didn’t mention the other possibility though: what if someone turned up and put themselves forward as the new pack leader? To my mind, there was only one thing preventing that.

  I said, “So it all falls to Silas: as the eldest son.”

  Carlotta nodded. “Except he’s never shown the slightest interest in becoming pack leader. Too busy living his life in the city.”

  We walked along for a few minutes in silence with me struggling to take in what she’d just said.

  Finally I said, “So what happens if he refuses to take on your father’s role?”

  Carlotta shrugged. “Chaos. The pack is defined by its leader. Without one there can be no stability.”

  I was starting to see now why Carlotta had been so keen to get me here. She wanted me to plead her case with Silas. To get him to see sense. But I knew how intractable Silas could be. And if he was adamant that he wouldn’t take on his father’s role then I couldn’t see how I was supposed to make him change his mind.

  But if the only alternative was Chaos, what then?

  *

  A small archway gave access to the drive at the front of the house and, as we approached, Sebastian the estate manager from last night stepped up to greet us. He was wearing a waxed jacket topped off with a flat cap. He asked us to follow him to the kitchens. Over on the other side of the main house, a vast marquee had been erected and various trade vans were parked outside. Swathes of cabling ran alongside a plywood walkway. The marquee, it turned out, was where the younger members of the ball would find their entertainment. They were even bringing in a DJ who I’d actually heard of. DJ or no, I wouldn’t say that a marquee in Scotland in February was ever going to be the most appealing of venues.

  Sebastian had obviously been despatched to ensure that we got everything we needed before shipping us back to the cabins. When I suggested that we might be able to have a peak at the main hall he wouldn’t even entertain the idea. He told us that the florists were in there and that they wouldn’t be finished for some time.

  He took us into a very well fitted storage area behind the main kitchen and ran through all the items he had put aside for us. There were packs of burgers and buns, eggs, frozen chips and plenty of salad. I thought that we’d done quite well, it was a fairly basic fare but would fill us up for the time being. Carlotta, however, had other ideas. After a bit of horse-trading, she managed to get him to agree to let us take two more hams, four enormous catering-sized cakes and two small barrels of beer.

  When he offered to deliver it for us Carlotta told him that that wouldn’t be necessary and that she’d drive it over herself.

  “How are you going to do that,” he asked. “Anything on four wheels is following the hunt.”

  “Not all of them, I’m sure,” she replied. We’d seen two vans parked up on our way in.

  “Most of them. Look, leave it to me and I’ll make sure you get everything. I just can’t guarantee when.”

  “Seb, I can see you’re busy. I’ll sort myself out.”

  He didn’t agree but he didn’t disagree either. Carlotta gave him a hug and he went away with a smile on his face. She took me out through the back of the storage facility and into a gravelled courtyard which had lots of flat-bed trolleys loaded with bags of compost. I helped Carlotta pile the bags on the floor and then we wheeled the trolleys back through into the store room. It took a while to load up all the food and we had to carry the beer barrels between us.

  Eventually, we were finished and Carlotta surprised me by taking us out towards the green houses.

  “I thought you said we were going to pick up a van.”

  “And I thought you said you wanted to look at the ballroom.”

  “What about the florists?”

  “Sod the florists. The day I let Sebastian Childers tell me what to do is the day I start taking in washing.”

  We followed the path around behind the green-houses, moving away from the main buildings. But then we took a left turn along a narrow brick pathway and out into a vast, sunken garden. The garden was split into three distinct tiers but because it was winter everything had been cut back. Everything that is apart from a rose bush with a single flowering rose. It smelled of crushed lemons. I looked up to see Carlotta propelling her trolley around to the far end of the sunken square. I’d have to follow her if we were to get around to the back of the house; the nearside path ended in a brick wall.

  There were two men working in the lower tier. A bearded man in a wheelchair and an older one carrying a stack of plant pots. He saw Carlotta hurrying past and raised an arm.

  “Carlotta? When did you get back?”

  He was stocky, in his 50s. He started up the steps towards her. Carlotta moved to meet him and I stayed to watch. It was only then that I got a good look at the man in the wheelchair.

  It was Silas.

  The thick, bushy beard made for an excellent disguise but the eyes were the same. I’d recognise those eyes anywhere. He looked older and slightly diminished. I wasn’t sure whether that was due to the beard or the fact that he was in a wheelchair.

  When he saw me he immediately dropped what he was doing. His arms shot back and he was suddenly propelling himself across the uneven surface. There was a little work-room set into the brickwork of the far wall and he was making for that.

  I didn’t hesitate. I abandoned the trolley and started down the steps as fast as I could. Carlotta called after me but I wasn’t listening. I had to see him. I’d come too far to give up now.

  It was only as I drew nearer that I had started to question what I was doing. When he’d seen me he’d looked genuinely alarmed, far from the bullish figure I was used to dealing with. I could only imagine that he wa
s embarrassed at me seeing him in his wheelchair, though that was the least of my concerns. He had covered the ground in no time, his arms working like pistons.

  “Silas!”

  His hands came clear of the wheels for a second letting himself coast, then he slapped his palms against the rims and the wheel chair came to an abrupt halt. For a second I thought that he was about to over-balance and tip himself onto the floor but then he arrested the forward motion spinning himself around in my direction.

  He looked impossibly broad in his chair.

  His eyes went first to his sister and then back to me. “Bronte.”

  He looked ten years older than the last time I’d seen him. Where previously his face had looked youthful now it looked gaunt, with age touching him around the eyes and hairline. His hands were as big as ever but his nails - which were normally finely manicured - were broken and muddied. But the most difficult thing to look at were his legs. They looked as though they belonged to someone else. Worse still: he saw me staring at them, saw my reaction.

  “I thought you were dead,” I said, my voice flat.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  We sat in his little work-shed and drank sweet tea from a flask. It was very cramped in there: even with me sitting in the corner my knees still brushed against the side of his wheelchair. It was properly cold too. And damp. He’d turned on the portable heater for my benefit but it threw out more light than heat.

  I did my best not to look directly at him. I was too upset to say anything for a long while so I just sipped my tea. It was far too sweet for my tastes but I remembered that you burn lots of energy when you’ve had a big shock and I’d just had a very big shock indeed. The place was stacked high with pot plants. As we sat there Silas kept transferring them from one shelf to another as if taking part in some three dimensional game of chess. He couldn’t stop himself.

  “I didn’t credit you with having green fingers,” I said.

  Silas held up a pot. “Oh, I’m not very good at it. It’s more of a distraction if I’m honest.”

  “Is that what I was? A distraction?”

  He turned his head in my direction without actually looking at me.

  “I should have contacted you. It was unforgiveable. I just kept putting it off.” Then his tone changed, becoming suddenly anxious. “How much do you know? How much has Carlotta told you?”

  “Surprisingly little. She’s been very protective of her older brother.”

  “Even when he’s been a complete idiot. I’ll give you the shortened version then. I don’t remember much about being shot and the rest is one big blur. The ambulance found me washed up on the river. From there they transferred me to a private clinic.”

  “But why not take you to the nearest hospital? You say you can’t remember.”

  “And I can’t. I have an emergency bracelet similar to the ones diabetics wear,” he pulled back his cuff and showed me. “You can’t take a werewolf to A+E. Be like inviting a fox into the hen-house.”

  “You must have very expensive health care.”

  “You have no idea. Anyway, I was in there for three days. On the second day Lottie appeared. She was the one who arranged to have me brought back here.”

  “No phones in Scotland, then?”

  His head slumped. “I had every intention …”

  “You couldn’t pick up a phone but you could pick up a potting plant.”

  The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It looked like he hadn’t smiled in a long while.

  He eased forward in his wheelchair and took my hand. I avoided his gaze by looking at the heavy strapping around his thigh. “There’s a lot of things that I could say in my defence but we’d both know that they were just excuses. I can’t apologise enough for what I’ve put you through. I’m sorry.”

  That, at least, was something.

  “What about this thing?” I shifted my gaze to the wheelchair, trying to sound stern. “I take it that this isn’t permanent.”

  He reached down, grabbed his right ankle and lifted it onto the foot plate. I tried not to stare. Tried to act nonchalant. But his right leg was so much thinner than his left.

  “Your friend Terence’s work. He certainly knew what he was doing when he shot me.”

  “He got the doctors to dig the bullet out.”

  “And a right mess they made of it,” he grimaced as he arranged his leg.

  “If they’d left it in you wouldn’t have survived the night.”

  “Probably for the best.”

  That was it! I’d heard enough. I rapped my cup down and stood up, though my exit was blocked by Silas’ wheelchair. I waited for him to move out of my way but he didn’t.

  “I know,” he said. “I should be grateful to be alive. But I’m finding it hard at present. I’m not used to being… well, like this!”

  By resting a hand on his arm rest I managed to step across him. I thought at one point that he was going to try and stop me but he didn’t. I’d spent too long watching the police divers searching the river, desperate for any news about his disappearance. I’d given up so much to be there at that moment and so I refused to sit there and listen to him wallowing in self-pity.

  I said, “I take it that the leg isn’t healing properly.”

  “I have what they call a green-stick fracture to my femur but that has become infected so they won’t operate. Problem is, with my metabolism, antibiotics aren’t much help.”

  I furrowed my brow. “I thought you had all these remarkable powers of recovery.”

  He reached out to take my hand but, when I refused, he grabbed my wrist instead.

  “They’re only triggered when I transform.”

  “So why don’t you do that then?”

  He dropped his hand. “It’s not that simple. When they operated they took out the bullet but they didn’t get all the fragments out. If I did transform..”

  “You’d risk not being able to change back.”

  The same fate that had befallen Terence.

  I wanted to stroke his face. To tell him that it didn’t matter. That I would love him just as vehemently whatever happened. That we would find a way to overcome this. That everything would be fine. But I said none of those things.

  Silas was as much a wolf as I was a witch. You couldn’t separate the two. And now he found himself in the impossible position of having everyone looking to him to step up into his father’s role. To be the next pack leader. But you can’t be pack leader in human form.

  I made to broach the subject but he pulled away, using the work surfaces to propel himself towards the door. I was dismissed. He didn’t want to hear my thoughts on the matter, he just wanted my sympathy. Nothing that I could say was going to change anything. What was the point of my even being there?

  As he opened the door I said, “You heard about Terence?”

  He stopped with his back to me, his hands braced against the doorjamb.

  “They shot him, then. That right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Probably did him a favour.”

  *

  I waited until I was sure that Silas was long gone before I allowed myself to leave. I needed to clear my head and was struck with a glorious blast of wind as soon as I stepped outside. I took a second to gather my thoughts and then set off after Carlotta. My trolley had disappeared and so I headed back to the storehouse, although this time I went via the front of the house. I couldn’t risk bumping into Silas again.

  Carlotta was out on the driveway loading food into the back of a battered old Land-Rover. I didn’t even offer to help, I just sat in the passenger seat.

  We didn’t speak until we were back on the access road.

  “Do you think that you could do me a favour once we’ve unpacked all this lot?” I asked.

  “That depends.”

  “Any chance you could drive me into town?”

  “It’s alright,” she said. “I managed to tr
ack down some cigarettes.”

  “It’s not cigarettes I’m after. I need to catch a bus. I want to go home.”

  *

  Carlotta was as good as her word about the cigarettes. As we were unloading the boot she produced a carton from behind the wheel arch.

  “Where’d you get these?” I’d never seen so many cigarettes in my life.

  “They’re not all for you,” she said.

  There were six other women who smoked and once we’d finished unpacking the food I took them all a little tobacco delivery. One of them was Paula.

  I counted out six packets.

  She took them in one hand and then indicated she wanted more.

  “Six each,” I said. “That’s what everyone’s getting.”

  “Who died and made you the cigarette fairy?”

  She made to grab the whole carton off me but I was too quick for her.

  “How many have you got in there?” she demanded.

  “Enough. That should do you for the time being.”

  She laughed. It was a harsh sound. “When I’ve finished with this little lot I’ll come looking for you.”

  I tried to pretend that she didn’t intimidate me but she did. As soon as I was on my own I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. It was time to consider my options.

  Someone had found an old gas-fired barbecue and had dragged it around in front of the cabins and got it started. It was well past lunchtime and, since none of us had had any breakfast we were all starving. The food for the barbecue was all piled on one of the picnic tables whilst the cakes were stored in our cabin for later. Just the smell of the burgers cooking on the barbecue was enough to get my taste buds going. Two of the women were busy cutting up the hamburger buns and sausages while three others prepared an enormous salad.

  Carlotta strolled over.

  “You going to have something to eat before you head off?” she said.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Oh? You seemed so definite earlier,” she pulled a mock-serious face.

  “Just because your brother is an idiot doesn’t mean that I am. Besides, I can’t leave you to look after this lot. They’re not even your problem.”