Could it be that the good doctor was such a darling in the eyes of the village—especially the women—that it wouldn’t even enter their heads that he was gay? Maybe he flirted with his patients and the female visitors without even knowing it. Or had he unconsciously cast some kind of spell on them to makethem think he was flirting, when in actual fact, he was just being nice, putting them at ease?
The thoughts whirled relentlessly through Matthew’s mind. Question after question, theory after theory. There was no way he could force his way through all that and make himself focus on the one positive that had come out of last night’s exploits—the video footage. The thing that proved, unequivocally, that he and his brother hadn’t set foot—or rather paw—out of those caves last night, so couldn’t possibly have slaughtered that sheep. It was undoubtedly a good thing, but until he’d gotten over his shitty mood—it was so shitty he was surprised there wasn’t a black storm cloud hovering above his head—it was pointless even trying.
Stomping down the stairs, he mooched into the kitchen. He’d put coffee off for too long this morning, which probably wasn’t helping the grumpiness situation. Three things he pretty much always did after a full moon were drink coffee, eat a huge breakfast and shower—in that order. Granted, that routine had been screwed up royally for the past two months, but it worked for him. He planned to do the remaining things, then maybe head next door and tackle some weeds in Mrs. Smithers’ garden. He’d neglected it of late because of what had been happening, but she hadn’t said a word, bless her. And she wouldn’t either. She knew what was going on, how it was affecting them, and wouldn’t dream of putting something else on Matthew’s already overloaded plate.
It wasn’t important, he knew, but he needed to do something. Preferably something physical. And given that Sally had now finished her holiday, left the village and gone back to her normal life, heading up the road to the cottage for an energetic fuck or three was out of the question. More’s the pity.
Slamming his fist down on the worktop, he swore loudly, then again as a piece of paper lifted by the air movement floated to the floor. He glimpsed his brother’s handwriting and bent to pick it up.
Reading the note, he let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a grunt. He put the sheet of paper down, flicked on the kettle and set about making himself a coffee. The big breakfast could wait, but caffeine could not. He’d down it, then head up to the moor and have a look around. Again.
A few minutes later, the front door slammed behind him as he jogged down the drive. He’d decided to leave the car behind and run up to the moor. No doubt he’d get some funny looks for running up such a long, steep hill, but he wasn’t bothered. He’d wanted vigorous exercise, and the gradient out of Eyam would definitely be that. Some people could scarcely walk up it, never mind run.
When he reached Hawkhill Road, where the gradient began, he took a couple of deep breaths, preparing himself for the climb. Because once he’d started, he didn’t want to stop until he reached his destination. In his head, he counted himself down—then went for it. He quickly got into a rhythm and pushed on, stride after stride, slowing down as the road bent sharply to the right and changed from Hawkhill Road to Edge Road. His speed didn’t falter until he got to the slightly less sharp bend to the left, and then it was a fairly straight route to the top.
As he’d expected, he got some strange glances from the vehicles that passed him, including from people he knew. He ignored them, knowing if anyone questioned him about it later, he could claim he was concentrating on his run, blocking everything else out.
As the road straightened, he deliberately maintained the slower speed, paying attention to what was around him. There was a footpath off to the right soon, which was probably the route the attacker had taken after killing the sheep and eluding the group of men the previous night. It would have taken him along the edge of Hollowbrook Wood for a while, then dropped down through the middle of it to emerge on a lane at the Town End area of the village. Did that mean he lived around there somewhere? It seemed likely, but didn’t help to narrow things down a great deal—there were still a fair few properties within a short distance.
Engaging his senses fully, he peered around, listening hard for anything out of the ordinary, and sniffed constantly, hoping to pick something up. He knew it was probably a long shot—scent wasn’t easy to, well, scent, unless a person had been touching things. So unless they’d had bare feet—next to impossible—or had brushed against something on their run down the hill, it was very unlikely he’d smell anything. Eager for a lead, he tried anyway, turning down the path and checking out the area, the trees, gates, fences. If anyone caught him sniffing a tree he’d probably be committed to the nearest psychiatric facility, but it was a risk he had to take.
He was just turning to head back onto the road to continue up the moor when he heard someone coming toward him. His superior hearing meant he had a good while before the person reached him, so he slowed down, attempting to look nonchalant as he walked onto Edge Road. He stopped when he heard a voice.
“Matthew? Hey, Matthew!”
A glance over his shoulder revealed a face he didn’t mind seeing. Noah Jones, Kevin Jones’ son. “Hey, mate,” he said, smiling. “How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks. You?” He frowned, then spoke again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I know you’ve…got a lot going on.”
“Hey,” he replied, his mood lightening. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, mate. Unless you’re the one who’s been trying to frame me and Isaac.”
Noah’s eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not me! I would never…” He stepped back and Matthew could hear the boy’s heart pounding. Shit, he’d taken the comment seriously.
Holding his hands up in an attempt not to frighten the lad further, he said, “Hey, hey, calm down. I was joking! I know damn well it wasn’t you.”
Noah’s breath came out in one big whoosh. “Oh. Phew. Sorry, I thought you really meant it then.”
“Of course not. So,” he made an attempt to change the subject, “where are you headed?”
“Up to the hostel. Got some weekend work up there and I left one of my school books up there the other day. I’m going to fetch it.”
“Oh right. So why aren’t you at school now then?”
“I’m studying for my GCSEs this year. We get days off, free periods and stuff for revision.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re telling the truth, Noah. If you’re skiving off, I will tell your dad.”
“I’m not, honest. Mention it to him when you next see him.”
“Huh, okay. I’ll let you get going, then. Good to see you, kid.” With a nod, he turned, ready to continue his journey.
“Hey, wait. Where are you going?” Noah scurried to his side, his expression one of wide-eyed curiosity.
“Up to the moor. There was another incident there last night, so I’m going to try to see if there’s any evidence.”
Gasping, Noah said, “Can I come with you? I’ll help you.”
“Uh, it’s okay, kid. I can manage. And the sheep might still be there. You don’t want to see that.”
“I want to work in crime scene forensics when I’m older—it’ll be good experience for me!”
Matthew’s shoulders slumped. He knew when he was defeated. “All right, all right. But I’m not really happy about this. If you end up with nightmares or something, don’t blame me.”
Snorting, Noah replied, “I’m fifteen, Matthew, not five.”
“Come on then. But keep quiet, will you, now? I’m already looking, listening and smelling for something out of the ordinary.”
The boy made a zipping motion across his lips and Matthew nodded. Together they walked up Edge Road toward the moor. Matthew tried to forget he had a tag-along but couldn’t. Despite the fact that Noah was closer to being a man than a boy, him following Matthew up to the moor had sparked a memory long forgotten. A memor
y that still affected his and his brother’s lives to this day, as well as those of the villagers of Eyam.
Way back in the day, centuries ago, his and his brother’s secret had been an absolute secret. No one but them and their parents had known—and their parents had long since departed both the village and the land of the living. It had been hard for them, but most definitely a necessary evil. One that had changed one full moon.
He and his brother had been heading up to the moor to change when they thought they heard a noise. They stopped dead and listened, looking around and sniffing to see if they could discover what it was. There was nothing, so they figured it was an animal or a bird, by now scurried or flown away. Continuing on their way, they thought nothing more of it.
As the full moon approached, they stripped and hid their clothes in their usual spot, then headed farther onto the moor and waited for nature to take its course. It was then, just as they’d passed the point of no return, that they saw a pale face watching them. A young boy from the village—one who should not have been out on his own, especially at night. But it was far too late to send him away—they were transforming, more beast than human, and they panicked as they realized their secret could be outed now, in spectacular style.
They couldn’t communicate, of course, so they did the only thing they could think of. Finding a sheltered spot, they tried to look as small and as unthreatening as possible—no mean feat—and herded the boy into it. As children often are, he was fearless in any case, and nestled into the place they’d picked out for him and promptly fell asleep. They took turns all night—one of them roaming around, seeing off any other predators that might have tried to harm the boy, the other settled down near to the child, making sure he was okay.
Come morning they woke up naked and cold, their memories slamming back into their heads with force. Hurriedly they dashed toward the crevice where they’d stashed the child, finding him safe and still sleeping. They dressed, then discussed what on earth they were going to do. Last night, they’d had little choice but to keep the boy with them, being unable in their current state to help him to find his way back to the village. But now, back in human form, they could return him to his parents, pretending they’d found him on an early morning walk. Unfortunately, he’d have memories of the previous night that he’d be unable to keep quiet. It had been dark by the time they’d started to change, but the boy had undoubtedly followed them from the village and watched them transform. So not only could he tell his parents what he’d seen, he could identify them too.
Left with no other ideas, they tidied themselves up so they looked less like they’d slept under the stars, then woke the boy. They’d return him to his parents, sticking with the early morning walk story, and hope that nobody believed the boy’s story when it was told. After all, who would? A child wanders off and comes home with insane tales of men changing into wolves… They’d laugh it off as the wild imagination of an infant and think no more of it. Hopefully they’d be so relieved to see their missing child that they wouldn’t ask questions.
Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. They’d asked the boy where he lived and said little else, hoping he’d think it was a dream or something. Taking him home, they’d discovered his name, Joe Braddock, and received effusive thanks from his grateful parents. They left and later discovered that they’d barely stepped across the threshold before he’d blabbed to his parents. At first, they’d ignored him, citing the reasons Matthew and Isaac had thought of, but the boy had continued to go on and on about it, pestering his mother and father to the extent that they said they would investigate. Questions were asked, rumors were spread, and finally someone confronted them.
At a total loss, the boys didn’t know what to do. It had gone too far, had become too rooted in people’s minds to deny. The villagers had also threatened to have someone follow them everywhere until the truth was uncovered. So they called a meeting with the Braddocks and their boy and explained everything. Little Joe’s eyes had gleamed with excitement and understanding—clearly what he’d seen had now dropped into place in his mind. They left it up to the family to decide what would happen next—they were still incredibly grateful they’d looked after Joe, kept him safe, and in their minds it made Matthew and Isaac good men, regardless of what they did on a full moon.
In several strokes of luck, the Braddocks had decided to vouch for them, explaining as best they could to the rest of the villagers what they were and that they were nothing to fear. David Braddock, Joe’s father, was an influential man, and the villagers of Eyam listened to him, particularly when he said that the boys had been scaring predators away from their village, their livestock, for years. They were lauded as guardians, safe-keepers of Eyam, of the villagers and their interests, especially since they were a lawman and a doctor respectively. How could they possibly be anything other than upstanding citizens?
People had been scared and unsure for a while, wary too, but as things settled down, they were able to get back to normal, trusting the villagers to keep their secret in return for their continued protection of the village—something they’d promised to do until their last breaths.
And then the plague hit and things were thrown into chaos once more.
Chapter Thirty
It took some effort for Matthew to pull himself from his memories as they reached the entrance to the moor, especially as a chilly breeze skated along its surface, forcing the scents of nature up his nostrils. Those scents that he knew so well and had been enjoying up on Eyam Moor for so many years.
“Okay,” Noah said tentatively, giving a small smile as Matthew turned around, having almost forgotten the boy was there. “Any idea what we should be looking for?”
Sighing heavily, Matthew replied, “Sadly not, kid. Myself or Isaac have been up here every morning after…well, you know what…since all this kicked off and haven’t found a damn thing. I think we’re wasting our time, to be perfectly honest, but I guess we’ll never know unless we try.”
Noah shrugged. “Who knows, maybe today will be different. And yeah, we’ve definitely got to try.”
“Come on then,” Matthew said kindly, giving the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s see what we can find.”
Smiling again, Noah said, “I never thought you did it, you know. And nor did my parents. I’m sure people will be saying that to you all the time now, but I wanted to anyway, and I mean it.”
“Thank you, Noah. That means a lot. Seriously.” He gave another squeeze of the boy’s shoulder, then turned and headed through the gate onto the moor, his senses already on high alert. Following the path slowly and cautiously, he listened to make sure Noah was following him. He was.
His gaze fixed firmly on the ground, Matthew studied every blade of grass, every speck of soil, every leaf. He was determined that this time he’d find something to nail the bastard. Or point them in the right direction, at least.
“You see anything out of the ordinary, anything that doesn’t feel right, you let me know. Anything at all,” he said, loud enough for Noah to hear.
“Will do,” came the reply.
They fell into silence once more as they followed the path, their eyes glued to it. Matthew’s nose was also fully engaged in the search, though he didn’t expect it would help—it hadn’t so far.
After a while they came upon the spot where the sheep had been slaughtered the previous night. Mercifully, the carcass had already been removed by the poor old farmer, but there was still enough matter left behind to send Matthew’s sense of smell into overdrive. As predicted, all it turned up was the fact there’d been a dead sheep here, but he refused to give up. This had to end—and soon. It had already gone on for far too long and was affecting too many people—not just him and his brother. It wasn’t fair and he was determined to put a stop to it.
Dropping to all fours, he scrutinized the area, wishing he had a magnifying glass or something. He didn’t care how stupid he looked, a grown man crawling around on the ground. All he c
ared about was finding something.
A gasp came from behind him and he spun around, his heart pounding. What had Noah found?
His new vantage point revealed the young boy backing slowly away from him.
“What? What’s up?” He said irritably, immediately regretting it. The kid was doing him a favor.
Swallowing hard, Noah seemed to be struggling with his words. Finally, he choked some out. “Y-you’re not changing, are you?”
A laugh tumbled from Matthew’s lips before he could stop it. “What? No, of course not! What makes you think that?”
Noah’s gaze flickered across Matthew’s form then back to his face. The penny dropped. “Ah. Okay, I get it. You think we get onto all fours, then transform. Fair enough. But no, Noah, I’m not changing. It’s daylight, it’s not a full moon. I am one hundred percent man, and that’s the way it’s going to stay for another four weeks. I may look foolish, but I’m just trying to get closer to the ground, to try to see something—anything. I’m desperate here!”
Clearly sensing the urgency in Matthew’s tone, Noah slowly relaxed as his words sank in, then joined him down on the ground. Giving a nod of thanks, Matthew returned his attention to the task at hand, like some kind of weird forensic scientist looking for a strand of hair, a thread of clothing.
When he did eventually come across something, it was a whole lot better. He heard a strangled sound, which it took him a good few seconds to realize came from him. Then his heart skipped a beat, quickly making up for it by pounding like crazy. Reaching out his hand, it felt to him as if it was moving in slow motion as he plucked the piece of material from the clutches of a bush.
Drawing it back in toward his body, he found himself sending up a silent prayer. Please don’t let this belong to one of the gang that was up here helping us. Please. Please let it belong to the fucker trying to ruin our lives.
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