Pack of Lies

by Lucy Felthouse

  The last thought sent his mind whirring again. It wasn’t about exposure—it couldn’t be. If it was, the person in question could just get evidence of Matthew and Isaac changing, whether it was a photograph or a video, and he or she could release it. The power and availability of the internet would make that incredibly easy. A quick post to Flickr, YouTube or similar, and their supernatural status could go viral within seconds—all over the world too. If that happened, they’d have a hell of a lot more to worry about than having to leave the village.

  No, whoever it was planned to ruin their lives in a different way. A smaller way, but one much more personal, more vindictive. They were trying to turn the villagers against them, to truly hurt them by taking away their friends and the home they loved so much.

  Now the idea was in Isaac’s head, he continued working on it in his mind while his hands worked at the computer. It was personal, it was vindictive. Like revenge. Like someone was trying to get their own back for something Isaac or Matthew had done. Thinking hard, Isaac tried to figure out what that could be. He was just a small-town doctor, so it wasn’t as if he could have accidentally killed a patient or failed to save someone. His medical responsibilities were small fry, really.

  As Matthew had said, everyone seemed to like Isaac. He got on with people easily. Some of the most cantankerous old dears in the village insisted on seeing Isaac at the surgery, as they thought he was wonderful. Add that to the fact that he hadn’t exchanged so much as a cross word with any of his colleagues or patients, and it seemed to be a bust. Sighing, he wondered about Matthew instead.

  His brother had been out of the police force for a good long while—since the “village bobby” in Eyam had no longer been a requirement. He hadn’t wanted to join a bigger force, to have to work outside the village or have anyone look too closely at him and realize he wasn’t really aging, so he’d quit. Or retired—however you wanted to look at it. So it couldn’t be a criminal he’d pissed off—not that Eyam had had many of them in any case.

  Perhaps it was someone from the pub? Again he got on well enough with his colleagues. The clientele was a mixture of villagers and tourists. Isaac immediately ruled out the tourists—other than maybe accidentally spilling a drink or giving someone the wrong change, he didn’t see how his brother could have pissed a tourist off to the extent that they’d want to wreak havoc on him. That and they wouldn’t have a clue what he was in any case.

  Thinking of the villagers brought him full circle. Since they’d come to the conclusion that it was a human trying to frame them, someone in Eyam was the obvious answer. Despite the fact it was a small village and that the number of those people who knew about his and Matthew’s animal sides was even smaller, it was still a fair number of people to consider. Had Matthew ever argued with anyone in the pub? Perhaps thrown someone out for being too drunk, too rowdy? He’d definitely be the one to do that sort of work—he made the six-foot, sixteen-stone pub owner look short and skinny—so that was definitely a consideration.

  Another even more unpleasant thought was that it was a woman. One who Matthew had snubbed, perhaps? God knew there were enough women in the village who wouldn’t mind going to bed with his brother, and much more besides. And since Matthew hadn’t been with an Eyam villager in generations, he’d probably turned down scores.

  He immediately ruled out anyone over fifty—they just wouldn’t have had the physical strength and energy to do what had been done to those sheep. That and if it had been a grievance years or even decades old, why air it now? Now he turned his thoughts to women who maybe did have the physical strength to carry out such violence, as well as the intelligence to get away with it. That narrowed the choices down considerably, certainly enough for him to dig into the women in question and figure out whether he was onto something.

  The internet could help him out in that regard, but it simply didn’t compare to face-to-face contact with someone. That way he could ask all the right questions, listen to their answers, read their body language. So many centuries of being around humans had made him incredibly good at reading them and their body language, so he’d be able to rule out some of the people almost immediately.

  It was an excellent plan, Isaac felt, and he was eager to get on with it straight away. But it was still too early—the pub wasn’t open yet. And besides, many of the women on his mental list would be out at work, in most cases outside the village. There were a few who wouldn’t be, so he’d start with them.

  Now he had purpose, had a plan, Isaac felt a hundred times better. He hadn’t found the person, solved the problem yet, but it didn’t matter. Taking a step in the right direction was a tonic, and one he intended to make the most of.

  He’d have a shower and a change of clothes, then he’d head out and play detective in the village. Starting with the museum, as it was nearest, then working his way along through the greengrocers, Eyam Hall, the post office, the village shops, the café and wherever else he could think of, he’d speak to every woman and rule them out, one by one. By the time he’d done all that, the pub would be open and he could do the same there, as well as grabbing himself a pint. Maybe something stronger—he felt he deserved it now, so by then he’d definitely have earned it.

  Isaac didn’t dare to hope for…anything, really. Not that he was right about who was doing this, and not that if he was right, he’d find the woman in question quickly. Too many things were against him and his brother at this stage—he just couldn’t expect things to go their way. It would be too easy.

  By the time he was halfway along the village, Isaac was beginning to wish he’d stayed at home and done his research online. It would have been a damn sight quicker. Because he’d been going into the shops and places of business with the express purpose of talking to people, that was exactly what he’d had to do. And some of those people had been much chattier than others, gabbing his ears off until he could scarcely take in what they were saying. Isaac now knew more about many of the women of the village, their husbands, boyfriends, friends, families, pets, houses and, naturally, ailments than he’d ever thought possible. He was an encyclopedia of knowledge on those topics.

  On a positive note, he’d been able to rule out every relevant woman he’d spoken to so far, but he was already jonesing for that drink in the pub—and it was definitely going to have to be something stronger than a pint of beer.

  Pulling in a deep breath, he resisted the temptation to run home, lock the door and never speak to anyone except for his brother ever again. Even though “ever again” would be a bloody long time. Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, he arrived at the village shop owned by Alexander Kennedy and found himself torn between hoping that the man’s daughter Amy was at work, and that she wasn’t. As much as he hated to think it, Amy was a fair contender for the role of sheep slaughterer. She was tall, athletic, and although she was quiet, Isaac had always thought she had hidden depths. There was no questioning her quick mind. Adding all of that to the fact that she’d been crushing on Matthew for years with no sign of letting up… Isaac really hoped he was wrong. She was a nice girl, and even to consider that she might be doing this to them was heartbreaking.

  The bell above the door jangled as he pushed it open, and he arranged his face into a friendly smile for the benefit of anyone who might be around. Alexander Kennedy had opened up, so he’d probably be there even if his daughter wasn’t. Christ, it felt like days ago that Alex had told him and his brother that the vicar was at their house waiting for them, not just a few hours.

  Isaac’s smile faltered at the thought and he forced it back into place as he walked deeper into the shop, looking for whoever was working.

  He didn’t spot Amy until he almost fell over her. He’d been just about to shout out his presence in case they were in the back when she’d appeared from around the corner of one of the shelving units, having just stood up.

  “Oh shit,” Isaac said, stopping in his tracks. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” I
n most cases he’d have been able to hear her, but the too-loud, too-cheerful music being piped through the speakers had put paid to that.

  “Oh hi, Isaac,” Amy said, smiling prettily. “Sorry. I was just tidying up, stocking up. You know, the usual excitement.”

  In spite of himself, Isaac grinned back. She was such a nice girl—could she really be the one they were searching for?

  Amy hesitated and her smile faded. “C-can I help you with anything, Isaac? Are you all right? You’ve gone a bit pale.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hey, Richard, wanna drop me off at Nathaniel Marsden’s place?” Matthew said as the vicar drove past the museum on their way back into the village.

  “Yeah, of course, no problem. I didn’t realize you had work today.”

  “I don’t. Not really. I can kinda do what I want when I want on that job, but I’m getting close to the stage where I can start planting stuff, so in other words, close to the end. Plus I really need something to distract me for a bit while I figure some stuff out.”

  Richard shrugged. “Fair enough. You’re not going to speak to your brother?”

  “Not just yet. We said we’d get in contact if we found something out. And we’ve discovered precisely nothing, so there’s no rush.”

  The two men fell silent and Richard steered the car through the village with frequent stops along the narrow road to let traffic pass by. Eventually they pulled into Nathaniel’s road and stopped outside his house.

  “Thanks, mate,” Matthew said, opening the door and hopping out. “And I don’t just mean for the lift. I don’t know what we’d do without you on our side.” He slammed the door closed and walked around the vehicle and toward Nathaniel’s house.

  Turning when a voice came from behind him, Matthew saw that the vicar had wound down the window on his side of the car. “You’re welcome, Matthew. And thanks for breakfast.” Richard buzzed the window back up, then continued down the road, presumably to turn around.

  Heading down the path to the property’s back garden, Matthew let out a sigh of relief. He was in no desperate hurry to do any more work on Nathaniel’s garden. What he really wanted was to be alone. Isaac would probably be at home, so at least coming here and making some progress on this job he’d have some quiet time to think.

  Opening the shed door, he retrieved the lawnmower. Once he’d gotten the grass down to a manageable length, he could tidy up the edges of the lawn and the borders, then it was ready for some plants. Crossing over to collect the key from under the pot, Matthew was just bending to get it when the back door opened.

  “Hey, Matthew,” Nathaniel said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Likewise.” Matthew forced a smile. It wasn’t Nathaniel’s fault he was having a shitty time of it.

  “Touché. I’m working from home today.” He indicated the garden. “You’ve made massive progress, mate, thanks. It looks as though you’re almost done.”

  “Yup. Just gonna mow the lawn, then tidy up the rest. Then I was gonna discuss plants with you. Still want me to deal with all that?”

  “That would be fantastic, thank you. I really appreciate it. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll sort you out with some cash.”

  “Hey, is this gonna bother you if you’re working from home? I don’t want to disturb you while I’m mowing.” He pointed to the mower, then took the opportunity to flip it over and check the blades. It was the first time he’d used it so he wanted to make sure there was nothing caught in them and that they were sharp enough for the job, otherwise it’d be damn hard work.

  “Nope. I’m not doing very much today. Say, do you mind if I ask you something?”

  Matthew’s heart gave an unpleasant lurch. Christ, he was going to ask about Isaac, wasn’t he? What the hell could he say? Oh well, yeah, he really likes you too, it’s just we’re werewolves so we can’t get into relationships for a million and one reasons. You may as well just forget him and move on. Sorry.

  “Go for it,” he choked out, gazing intently at the underside of the lawnmower.

  “I just wondered what’s going on today. I popped to the shop earlier and heard that another dead sheep has been found up on the moor.”

  “Yeah…”

  “It’s terrible of course, and awful for the farmer. But I just wondered why everyone’s being so weird about it. It’s as if they’re on edge or hiding something. I dunno, maybe I’m just getting the wrong end of the stick or I don’t know folk well enough yet. But something doesn’t seem right.”

  In lieu of an answer, Matthew started scraping at the clumps of grass stuck around the blades of the mower. He quickly regretted it when he caught the side of his wrist on one of the sharp edges and cut himself.

  “Shit!” Snatching his hand away and cradling it in the crook of his other arm, he stood rapidly.

  “Christ,” Nathaniel said, looking worried. “Are you all right? How bad is it? Do you want me to call your brother?”

  “No,” he ground out, holding his wrist tightly. Not to stop the blood flow, which had already slowed considerably, but to prevent Nathaniel from seeing how quickly the wound was healing. “It’s all right—I’ll head home now and have him look at it. Do you have an old tea towel or something I can use to stop me leaving a trail of blood across the village?”

  Nathaniel’s eyes widened, and Matthew shook his head. “Hey, I’m joking about the trail of blood. It’s not that bad, honestly. I just don’t want to get it all over my clothes. They may be old ones, but blood’s awful to get out. I’ll just go home and see Isaac—he’ll sort me out.”

  “Uh, yeah, hang on.”

  The other man disappeared into the house and came out holding a tea towel that had seen better days. “Here you go. It looks crap but it’s clean, I promise. Hey, you probably ought to ask Isaac about a tetanus shot. I don’t think those blades are rusty, but it’s better to be on the safe side, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I will do. Thanks. Don’t worry. Would you mind putting the stuff back away for me, please? I’ll come back tomorrow and finish up.” He hurriedly wrapped the cloth around his wrist and cradled it again.

  “T-tomorrow? Will you be all right? There’s no rush, really. I’d rather make sure you’re all healed up before you carry on.”

  I’ll be healed up by the time you’re done talking, at this rate. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a shallow cut.”

  “Um, well only if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. I’m going to go now, all right?”

  “Y-yes, of course. Take care, won’t you? Make sure your brother looks at it!”

  “I will!” He was already at the corner of the house, and he continued up the path and out onto the street.

  Within ten minutes he was home and had almost immediately ascertained that his brother wasn’t there. He hadn’t left a note, and Matthew was surprised. Isaac had said he was going to do some digging with regard to finding out who was trying to frame them, and now he’d gone out.

  Shrugging, Matthew figured he’d have a good reason. Either he’d been called in to the surgery or he was out there doing the investigating in person. It didn’t matter. After pulling the cloth off his wrist he saw that, amongst all the smeared and crusted blood, the cut had healed up, leaving nothing but a silvery line that looked like a years-old scar. Even that would fade and it would be as if it had never happened. He’d have to take care to wear a bandage on it for a while in case he bumped into Nathaniel. Christ, a super-fast-healing wound would ring more than a few alarm bells with the newcomer.

  Heading into the kitchen, he turned on the taps and rinsed the blood from his skin, watching as the water in the sink ran pink at first, then lighter and lighter until it was clear once more. Only then did he turn off the taps and wipe his hands on a clean tea towel. He grabbed the one Nathaniel had lent him and dropped it into the laundry basket in the utility room.

  After that he realized he was at a loss. Going back to work on Nathaniel’s garden wasn’t an
option and he was already on top of their own and Mrs. Smithers’. The housework was done, there wasn’t enough washing for a load and he wasn’t quite bored enough to do any ironing. He always made sure he was too busy to do it and left it in the hope that Isaac would get sick of the teetering pile and crack on with it.

  In the absence of anything to do, his mind started racing. Going over what had happened over the past couple of months again and again. Two dead sheep, accusations flying their way, strange looks from the villagers. It was horrible and infuriating. All he’d ever wanted was a normal life. And for the most part he’d had one. Other than transforming into a wolf one night a month, he lived a totally normal life. Normal house, normal job, normal hobbies. The only thing, perhaps, that was unusual was his single status. He liked women a lot. Respected them too, and wanted a whole lot more than the occasional one-night stands and the visits to Manchester and Sheffield to see his friends-with-benefits. But he’d resigned himself to not having all that a long time ago, and anyone who was aware of their secret knew why he and his brother did not have romantic entanglements. He just wasn’t all that unusual. So why did he feel, right now, as though he had a giant flashing sign hovering over his head, drawing attention to him?

  Nobody had confronted him yet, other than the three idiots who had come into the caves, and that hadn’t really been confrontation. But he felt the stares, felt the change in attitude this time around. Nathaniel had been right—everyone was acting weird.

  Gripping the kitchen work surface hard, Matthew let the anger wash over him for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He couldn’t ignore it because it wouldn’t go away. Until the situation got sorted, he was going to be angry, upset, confused and a whole bunch of other things that he didn’t like being.