Camwolf

by J. L. Merrow

  “What? His father doesn’t give a damn about the boy. Why the hell would he suddenly want him back after all this time?” The thought of Herrscher suddenly developing some kind of paternal instinct was laughable. “Why did you call him?” he asked abruptly.

  “Why did you?” she countered, holding his gaze until Nick flushed and looked away. “You must not tell my husband,” she added in a low, insistent tone.

  “I don’t give a damn what secrets you want to keep from Markham. But I thought you hated Herrscher.”

  Her face was expressionless. “I don’t think you can fully understand how much I hate him. But I knew that he, at least, would be able to find my son, and to take whatever measures were necessary.”

  Nick felt an unreasonable surge of anger. “We were both wrong. We didn’t need him. Except for the clean-up, perhaps.” Nick felt a certain satisfaction in picturing Herrscher as a glorified dustman. He took a deep breath. “I was the one who killed Schräger.” He paused. Was the rest his to tell? “And Julian helped me.”

  Lili just nodded. “Peter told me. You surprised me. It’s not so easy, to kill, is it? To take a life, even with the worst provocation.” Her eyes unfocused and she seemed lost in memory.

  Nick felt a chill tickle his spine. Had she considered murdering Schräger—or even Herrscher—those dark days in Germany, before she’d come up with her escape plan? When she looked at him again, her eyes, so like Julian’s, were clear but troubled. “You know what he said to me? ‘The boy shows potential after all.’ You understand what that means?”

  “I need to see him,” Nick said abruptly.

  She nodded. “Then go. Do not be too hard on him, please.”

  Nick barely heard her as he flung open the door to the other room. Julian was sitting by the window looking out across Parker’s Piece, his long legs tucked up underneath him in the chair. His pale skin seemed almost translucent in the harsh grey light falling upon it.

  Nick turned to his stepfather, who was hovering uneasily by Julian’s chair. “Markham—would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Markham said politely, although his eyes were narrowed. “You’ll be all right, Julian?”

  “Of course,” Julian said softly. Both he and Nick watched Hugh Markham leave and close the door softly behind him.

  “Julian,” Nick began and stopped as the fragile-seeming limbs unfolded themselves gracefully and Julian stood.

  “Are you angry with me?” Julian asked. He looked directly at Nick for a moment, his face a little flushed, before dropping his gaze once more.

  Yes. “No.”

  “Doch. You’re angry with me.”

  “I have no reason to be,” Nick said stiffly. “You were a victim in this—”

  “You think I wanted to go with him,” Julian persisted. “You think I still loved him.”

  So he hadn’t just been imagining things. His chest tight and a hard lump in his throat, Nick stepped forward, hand raised to—what, he didn’t know. “Did you?”

  Julian flinched, but stood his ground. He met Nick’s eyes. “He’s dead.”

  “You don’t have to remind me of that.” Nick almost snarled it. Appalled at the way he was behaving, he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. Nick found himself clutching at his arm with his other hand, as if to prevent it from any further violent impulses. Christ, that was the only real difference between them, wasn’t it? Schräger was dead.

  “Nick—”

  Nick cut him off, the thought of what he might say next almost too painful to bear. “Your mother says you’re leaving Cambridge.”

  “Yes.” It was barely audible.

  For a moment Nick half-thought there might have been a note of uncertainty there, but he stamped down on such wishful thinking ruthlessly. “I think that’s a good idea. Goodbye, Julian.” He strode to the door, afraid to stay any longer. The knowledge that this could be the last time he ever saw Julian twisted in his gut like a knife, and he just wanted to get away, as if he could leave the pain behind him.

  Almost against his will, he stopped at the door and turned. He owed Julian this. “I’m sorry,” he said and walked away.

  Tiff knew it couldn’t be good news when she saw Dr. Sewell walking through the Porter’s Lodge like a badly reanimated zombie. Men. Couldn’t you trust them to do anything right? She was torn—should she go and comfort Julian, or confront a seriously scary-looking Dr. Sewell? For a moment she almost wished Crack hadn’t finally buggered off home to change his socks. He might at least have been good for a second opinion.

  Sod it. Jools had his mum, and Dr. Sewell was here. Hoping she wasn’t making a big mistake, Tiff made her way up to his rooms and knocked on the door. “Dr. Sewell?” she called, because he might be pretending he was out to anyone not directly involved in the Julian thing. She jumped as he flung the door open.

  “Yes?”

  He’d smartened up a bit since earlier, but there was a dead look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Can I come in?” Tiff asked nervously. He nodded once and stepped back to let her in. “Um. Have you been to see Julian?”

  She’d never seen Dr. Sewell look so grim, not even when Julian had been missing. “Yes.” He turned away. “He’s leaving Cambridge.”

  “What do you mean? He didn’t tell me that.” Tiff frowned. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  “His parents are taking him home,” Dr. Sewell said bleakly, slumping down on a chair like a sack of depressed potatoes.

  “Oh,” was all Tiff could think of to say. She felt hurt, and betrayed, and horribly selfish for feeling the way she did.

  “He’s better off without me,” Dr. Sewell said, his head in his hands. “He knows it, his mother knows it, and I know it. And in any case, he’s still in love with Schräger.”

  You stupid sod, Jools. “I thought he was dead? And anyway, did Julian say that?”

  Dr. Sewell gave a bitter laugh. “He wouldn’t deny it. I’d say that’s pretty much the same thing, wouldn’t you? Christ, after everything that bastard did to him.” He flung himself out of his seat with a violence that made Tiff’s heart pound, and stood leaning on his desk, head down.

  “Um. Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think you’re being, um…” A bit of a git? “…a bit hasty? I mean, when you turned up to see Jools, did he look like he wished you hadn’t?”

  Dr. Sewell didn’t say anything, but his knuckles were standing out white under his skin and his face was twisted up like he was in pain. Tiff wondered if he’d notice if she started edging towards the door. “I spoke to him, you know,” she carried on hurriedly. “Look, he’s a bit confused, all right? I don’t know what happened when he was, um, away, but he looks a right state.”

  “You want to know what happened?” Dr. Sewell was staring at her now and it was bloody creepy. “You want to know what we’re capable of?” His voice was so soft she had to strain to hear it and then she wished she hadn’t. God, she was talking to a bloke who’d killed someone. But it must have been self-defence, right?

  Right?

  If it wasn’t, Tiff decided, she didn’t want to know. “Um. No thanks.”

  “I shouldn’t be here.” Dr. Sewell turned away and stared out of the window. He sounded like he was talking to himself. “I’m not fit to be here.”

  “That’s rubbish! You’re a great supervisor.” Tiff hesitated, and put a hand on his shoulder, an uncomfortable chill flickering through her stomach as she wondered if she’d ever get it back. “And those handouts you do for lectures are brilliant. Of course you should be here.”

  He looked up at her then, dead eyes and all. “I killed a man.”

  Tiff tried not to shiver. “You did it for Jools,” she said with a certainty she didn’t feel. “You had to do it, to save him.”

  “You think that’s what Julian thinks?”

  “Of course it is! You saved his life.”

  Dr. Sewell gave a horrible, twisted smile. “I killed his lover.�
��

  “Bollocks.” Tiff’s hand clapped to her mouth. “I mean, that’s—you’re his lover. Not that bastard who used to beat him up.”

  “I don’t think Julian sees it quite that way.”

  “He does! Look…I’m not sure Jools knows how he feels right now. But he definitely said he preferred you to Boris the Bastard.” It didn’t sound any more like a declaration of undying love than it had when Julian had said it. Tiff hurried on. “And when I asked him how he’d feel if he never saw you again, he said ’empty’. Um. Could you not, you know, stare at me like that?” Tiff took her hand off his shoulder and backed off a pace. She really should have gone to see Jools. She’d made a right pig’s ear of this. Was she even doing the right thing here? Maybe Julian would be better off without Dr. Sewell.

  No. Jools had been miserable, thinking Dr. Sewell didn’t want him. Tiff pulled herself together. “Look, I’ll talk to him. You just… I’ll talk to him.”

  Heart pounding as she closed the door behind her, Tiff had to fight the urge to run down the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tiff jumped as, turning out onto Main Court, she almost ran into Dr. Pawlaczek.

  “Hmm. Been to see Nick, have you? I was just on my way there myself. Do I take it from your expression things are not going as smoothly as they ought to be with our two young lovebirds?”

  It was a bit weird, hearing her talk about Dr. Sewell like that. Like she was lumping him in with the students or something. Tiff had to collect her thoughts before she could answer. Then she had to stop and think again, because Dr. Pawlaczek didn’t know anything about the whole werewolf business, did she? Not to mention, Dr. Sewell having killed Boris… God, this was complicated.

  And Dr. Pawlaczek was giving her a very funny look now. “Um, he’s feeling a bit…I think they’ve sort of split up, but I was going to have a word with Jools.” She hesitated, but Dr. Pawlaczek was Dr. Sewell’s best friend, wasn’t she? “He’s got this idea he’s bad for Julian. But it’s stupid. He’s nothing like that ba—Boris.”

  Dr. Pawlaczek tsked. “Still not making sense, eh? You deal with young Julian, and I’ll sort Nick out. Divide and conquer, that’s what I always say.”

  Tiff wasn’t sure that was entirely appropriate, seeing as how they were supposed to be getting them back together, but she nodded anyway and set off for her room. She needed a coffee before she did anything else.

  Preferably with a large shot of Russian, and sod how early it was in the day.

  Tiff made do with the caffeine, in the end, plus a couple of chocolate HobNobs as she had a feeling she was going to need the energy. Then she brushed her hair, briefly considered makeup as a sort of defence against Jools’ scarily well-groomed mother, then gave it up as a waste of time and headed out towards the college gate.

  She didn’t get there. Halfway down Main Court, she saw Crack—and Julian. They were walking side by side like a couple of poster boys for anorexia. Jools looked a bit startled rabbit, but Crack gave a big grin when he saw her.

  “Hey, Tiff! Look who I found in the Plodge.”

  “Jools!” Tiffany wrapped her arms around him. God, he felt even skinnier than before. If he lost any more weight, he’d just be a bag of bones, like Crack. Maybe they both should go round to Dr. Pawlaczek’s for a bit of Marje’s cooking. “What were you doing out here on your own? Are you all right?”

  “I was coming to see you,” he said quietly. “I wanted to ask…what you said before. Do you still think it is true?”

  “You mean about…” Tiff broke off, her gaze flicking to Crack. “I don’t…” She came to a decision. “Yes. You need to talk to each other, okay? Come on, I’ll walk you to the staircase.”

  Jools gave a faint smile. “I made it across town on my own. I think I can manage Main Court.”

  “Don’t be a prat. Crack, do you mind? I sort of need to talk to Jools alone.”

  Tiff took Julian’s arm as Crack melted away like a well-brought-up shadow. “Now look, he’s got this big thing that he’s, um—well, he’s not been making a lot of sense, but he seems to think you’re upset about him,” she lowered her tone, “you know, killing Boris.”

  He didn’t answer. Tiff stopped dead, her hold on his arm meaning that he did too. “Jools?”

  “It was the only thing he could have done.” Jools gazed off into the distance. “If Boris had killed him, I would have died too.”

  Tiff didn’t think he was just being melodramatic. “You think Boris would have killed Nick?”

  “He killed Andrew.”

  “Andrew? Oh—the bloke in the paper? You knew him?” God, was there no end to the shit Jools was having to deal with because of bloody Boris?

  “Yes. It’s my fault he died.”

  “Don’t be so bloody stupid! It’s not your fault. That’s just what victims of domestic abuse always say—it was my fault, I provoked him, he couldn’t help it.” She’d read up on that, after he’d first mentioned that bastard. “The only person whose fault it was is Boris, all right?” She softened her tone. “Was he like an ex, or something? Andrew, I mean?”

  Jools nodded. “Something like that. I didn’t know him very well.”

  Which just told you all you needed to know about Julian’s relationships before Dr. Sewell, didn’t it? Suddenly feeling a lot better about what she was doing, Tiff gave a tug on his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you two sorted out.”

  After Tiffany had left, Nick sank into a chair, exhausted. Had he done the wrong thing after all? Julian had said he felt empty without Nick. That was a pretty good description of how Nick felt right now: hollow, completely used up. Surely it was madness for them both to be suffering?

  But Julian was young. He’d survive; he’d find someone else—Nick’s gut clenched at the thought. The wolf in him wouldn’t stand for that, he knew. Killing people…wasn’t it supposed to be so much easier after the first one? Nick felt sick at the thought.

  The knock on the door was brisk and business-like. It had to be either Nadia or the police. Nick hesitated. He really wasn’t feeling up to another run-in with Phillips.

  “Nick Sewell, I know you’re in there,” Nadia’s voice called. “I just ran into Tiffany on the stairs. So open up before I get Sands to lend me the master key.”

  Gratefully, Nick went to open the door.

  She looked him up and down. “Well, I see you had that shave, but apart from that, it’s frankly not much of an improvement. I take it the interview with young Julian didn’t go well?”

  Nick rubbed his hands over his face as he stood aside to let her in. “We…we’ve split up. He’s leaving Cambridge, going back to his mother’s. We thought it was best.”

  She didn’t look particularly as if she agreed. “Nick, lovey, he may have the looks of a china doll but I hardly think wrapping him in cotton wool is going to do him any good in the long term.”

  “At least he’ll be safe,” Nick protested.

  “What from? Life? Sorry to disappoint you, but there’s only one way to keep someone safe from that and it’s not one that I’d recommend.”

  She didn’t understand. How could she? “Safe from me,” he said harshly.

  Her eyes narrowed. “And is that a valid concern? Ever raised a hand to him?”

  Nick was absolutely certain she wouldn’t let friendship get in the way of safeguarding Julian if he said yes. It was actually rather comforting. “No. But he makes me feel…” Restless, he turned away from her. “I get jealous, and I’m not sure I can control it.”

  It was close enough to the truth that saying it felt like ripping off a scab. A rather unsightly one, at that.

  Nadia sighed, and to Nick’s ears it sounded a lot like relief. “It seems to me, then, dearie, that there’s a very simple solution.”

  “I wish to God you’d tell me what it is, then,” Nick said with a hollow attempt at a laugh as he flung himself back into his chair.

  “If you don’t want to be an abusive boyfriend, then d
on’t be an abusive boyfriend.” She rolled her eyes at his look. “What I’m saying is that you have a choice. Now, maybe there is a bit of darkness in that soul of yours, but the Nick Sewell I know can rise above it. You’re not just the sum of your baser impulses, so don’t let the little buggers fool you into thinking you are.”

  Nick smiled tiredly. “It all sounds so absurdly simple when you put it like that.”

  Nadia grinned back at him. “That’ll be the years of practice talking down to students, dearie.” She put an arm round his shoulders as he sat. “Now, I saw you when Julian went missing, and it was patently obvious to me that you care for that young man a great deal. Don’t you think you ought to stop being such a silly old sod and tell him about it?”

  His smile turned crooked. “Whatever happened to ‘if you love somebody, let them go’?”

  “Most people, Nick, are quite capable of buggering off by themselves, so I shouldn’t worry about that. Now, are you going to give it another go with your young Adonis?” Nadia had moved to the window and was idly playing with the fertility god in a manner that would most likely have made her young male students rather uncomfortable. She gave a little hmmph of surprise. “Looks like you might have to make your decision quickly. If I’m not mistaken, there’s the young man himself walking this way.”

  Heart pounding, Nick stepped to the window, and Nadia moved aside to let him see. Julian was halfway down one side of Main Court, his arms wrapped around himself and his delicate colouring accentuated by the crow-like figure of Tiffany’s Goth boyfriend beside him which, as he watched, scuttled back towards the Porter's Lodge. Tiffany was there too, hanging on to Julian like she was determined not to let him get away again. Nick felt a physical pain in his chest at the sight.

  He couldn’t do this, he realised. Not for a second time. He’d been noble once, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t go through that again. Nick turned away from the window, unable to look at Julian anymore. His eyes met Nadia’s, which softened at once. “Oh, lovey. Look, I’ll make myself scarce. Just try not to balls it up this time, hmm?”