Pack of Lies

by Lucy Felthouse

  “You don’t think it was a bit…well, soppy?” He cringed at his choice of words but they seemed to be the farthest thing from his lover’s mind. Nathaniel probably hadn’t even noticed.

  Shaking his head, Nathaniel looked earnest. “No, I don’t. I know it’s early days but I’ve got a really good feeling about this. About us. I really care about you, Isaac, and I’m so glad we’ve figured out a way we can be together.”

  Reaching down to cup Nathaniel’s cheek, Isaac murmured, “Me too. I mean, I really care about you too, and I’m glad we’re together.” Then he leaned in for a sweet, meaningful kiss, which continued for some time before lust took over and turned into something altogether more sensual, more sexy.

  Before long, Isaac’s cock was ready and raring to go again, and he knew that unless he took control there would still be indecision about who was fucking who. So, the decision made, with a feral growl he flipped Nathaniel onto his back and straddled him, urging him to retrieve a condom and lube, fast. He could return the favor later.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Matthew awoke back in human form and hurriedly went through the usual routine of grabbing the rucksack with his and his brother’s clothes, tossing a bundle to his brother, then tugging on his own garments and shoes. Then he retrieved the cereal bars. He munched as he stuffed the plastic bags that had kept their clothes dry back into the sack, followed by the wrapper of his snack. By the time he’d done that, Isaac was dressed and handing him another wrapper.

  Within minutes they were exiting the cave into the bright sunlight and freezing November air, and Matthew couldn’t help the sense of trepidation that took him over as his brain kicked into gear. Despite all their best efforts, they’d had no luck over the last month at finding out who’d been persecuting them. The scrap of material he’d found from the perpetrator’s trousers had turned up nothing, not one iota of information, and they’d gone down into the caves, secretly pinning all their hopes on the gang that was up on the moor, wishing for better luck this time.

  This full moon, it hadn’t been necessary for anyone to wait outside the two cave entrances to ensure the boys didn’t come out, so it had meant a larger number of people were available to stake out the moor, complete with lights and cameras. Matthew sent a silent prayer up to any deity that would listen that something had happened last night. Something good.

  Matthew had headed out first, and as soon as he scrambled out of the hole and onto more solid ground, he caught sight of Richard. The vicar was sitting on a hillock a few feet away, head in his hands, looking as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. He also looked cold and somewhat disheveled, but Matthew figured that was to be expected, as the man hadn’t slept all night. His demeanor gave him much more cause for concern. Was this good news or bad news? Part of him didn’t want to know. Maybe if he just ran for it now and never looked back, he’d never have to deal with this shit ever again.

  But the rest of him recognized he’d never do that. Never leave the village, his brother, his friends. Most especially now, because that would mean their enemy had won. And there was no way that was going to happen. No fucking way.

  Richard hadn’t heard them yet, so Matthew took a couple of deep breaths, visible in the chilly air, thinking he’d need all the calm he could summon for whatever happened next. Turning, he held out a hand to help his brother out of the hole. Isaac’s face registered the same emotions he’d gone through—surprise, then concern, then full-on worry.

  Matthew fixed Isaac with a resigned look, then twisted back to face their friend, and the two of them approached.

  Their footsteps startled the vicar out of his slump and he looked up. Seeing his friend’s face sent a shiver down Matthew’s spine. This was not good. Not at all. Richard looked terrible.

  Standing, the clergyman gave a weak smile that looked more like a grimace. “Morning, lads. All right?”

  Matthew sighed. “No, because your feelings are written all over your face. Something’s happened and it’s not good. Please, mate, just tell us.”

  Richard ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. He seemed to sag, growing shorter, his shoulders coming in toward his chest. “I—I don’t think I can.”

  It took all Matthew’s willpower to keep calm. The last thing he needed now was to lose his rag and scare the shit out of his friend. Stepping forward, he placed his hands on the vicar’s shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Come on, mate. We’ve had a shit few months. I’m not sure how it can get any worse.”

  Pulling in a breath, Richard let it escape from his mouth, a quiver apparent. His gaze flicked momentarily to Isaac, then back to Matthew. “Please, I just don’t think I can say the words.”

  After several long seconds, he reached up, grabbed Matthew’s wrists, his eyes wide. “We got him.” Chest heaving, he repeated himself, then glanced over at Isaac. “We got him.” He hung his head, his gaze boring into the ground.

  “What?” Matthew said, his surprise manifesting as a barked word. “You got him? So why are you—” A horrible thought tickled at the edges of his conscious mind and he pushed it away forcefully. “W-why isn’t this a good thing? I don’t understand.”

  With what seemed to be a supreme effort, the vicar lifted his gaze to meet Matthew’s. “Don’t make me say it. Please. Can I just show you? He’s in the church. We took him straight there. Everyone else who came last night is there keeping watch, and I came down to meet you. We haven’t called the police yet. We thought you might want to speak to him first.”

  The shiver that had run down Matthew’s spine not so long ago returned as a huge ball of ice that now sat in his stomach, threatening to make him retch. The unthinkable, unspeakable idea was still floating around in the back of his consciousness, and he refused to give it the time of day. He didn’t want to risk it, just in case it made it true. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t.

  “Yes, okay.” He had no idea how he was keeping a lid on things but he suspected it wouldn’t hold out for too much longer. His true feelings were in there, he knew, just waiting to come out. “Come on, mate,” he said softly, helping him up, “let’s go, get you inside and get a hot drink inside you. You look done in.”

  His lips twitching at the corners, Richard said, “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Isaac hadn’t uttered a word since emerging from the caves, and when Matthew turned around he could see why. His brother had gone utterly pale, so pale it looked as if there weren’t a drop of blood left in his body. No doubt he’d had similar diabolical thoughts but had allowed them to run riot in his brain.

  “Hey,” Matthew said, taking his brother’s arm. He now had Isaac on one side, all but dragging him along, and was doing the same to Richard on the other side. “It’s over. It’s really fucking over. This should be a good thing.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying it for Isaac’s benefit or his own, but he continued to repeat the words like some kind of chant all the way back up into the village. If he’d been sitting down, he’d probably be rocking back and forth.

  Once they reached the door to the church, Richard produced a key from his pocket. “I don’t normally lock the door but I didn’t want to risk the wrong person walking in. I’m not sure how I’d explain this.”

  Matthew gave a curt nod, keeping a tight hold of his brother’s arm. Isaac tried to pull away, shaking his head, his dark hair swinging back and forth as if it had a life of its own. “I—I can’t,” he said, still looking like death warmed up. “I can’t go in there.”

  Richard put the key in the lock and twisted it but didn’t open the door.

  “You have to.” Matthew faced his brother, grabbing both his shoulders tightly, so tightly it would have hurt a human, maybe even dislocated something. But Isaac needed the pain to ground him, to make him realize that this was real and not a dream. Or a horrendous nightmare. “We have to. I don’t want to either. But we can’t run away from this. Someone’s been fucking us ov
er. Someone we know. It fucking sucks but there’s nothing we can do about it. We can’t erase the past, change what’s happened. What we can do is go in there, face him, hash this out, turn him over to the police and try to deal with it. Move on with life. Whoever he is, he’s ruined our lives for long enough. He’s scum, and he doesn’t deserve to do it for any longer. We can’t give him the satisfaction. Come on—let’s get this over with and then let him answer for his actions.”

  Isaac’s head lolled back, his gaze fixed firmly on the sky for several long, silent seconds. He seemed to be thinking, working things out in his mind. Taking several slow, deep breaths, he finally shifted his head back into its natural position and gave his brother a decisive nod. “Okay. Let’s get this over with. But we need to agree something first.”

  “We do?”

  “Yeah. We have to promise that we won’t let each other kill him, whoever he is.”

  “Okay. But what if we both want to kill him?”

  As one, their gazes slid over to Richard, whose mouth dropped open. He held his hands up. “Hey, if you go crazy, who am I to stop you? I don’t agree with violence of any form, you know that, but I’m not about to put myself between two werewolves and a man who…well, a man who has done something unforgiveable.”

  Matthew raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t argue with his friend’s words. “You got them tranquilizer guns handy?”

  The vicar nodded. “I can get them.”

  “Do it. Soon as we go in there, go and get a couple. Make sure they’re loaded. Just in case. We can’t take any risks here. The last thing we need is Isaac and me getting into trouble. It would kind of defeat the object of what we’ve done here, wouldn’t it?”

  Another nod. “Yes. I don’t want to see you boys in trouble. Okay, ready?” He pulled in a shaky breath.

  Shrugging, Matthew said, “We’ll never be ready, Richard. Just open the bloody door.”

  The vicar did just that, walking quickly into the building without looking at or talking to anyone. He seemed to be going somewhere specific—to get the guns, Matthew figured.

  It was only when he crossed the threshold and cast his eyes over the assembled group and saw the person tied to a chair in their midst that he realized his mistake. He needed a tranquilizer gun trained on him now.

  The only thing that stopped him from crossing the room and ripping the bastard’s head off was his brother. As he still stood in the doorway, Isaac hadn’t yet entered the church and laid eyes on the man who had betrayed them so badly.

  Spinning on his heel, Matthew shoved his brother backward, almost putting him on his arse. “Don’t come in.”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” He quickly regained his footing and attempted to push past Matthew and into the church.

  “Seriously, brother, don’t. You do not want to know who’s in there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want to know. I need to fucking know! How the hell would you keep it from me, even if I didn’t go in there? Every person in that room knows. You gonna ask them to keep it a secret? Lock me in the house while the police take him away and hope I don’t figure out who’s missing from the village? That people don’t gossip?” He growled. “Get out of my way, Matthew. You can’t protect me forever.”

  Pushing past Matthew, Isaac resisted his brother’s attempts to grab him and walked into the church. Matthew watched, helpless and horror-struck as his brother’s gaze took the same journey his own had, alighting milliseconds later on the person who had been trying to destroy them.

  Matthew stepped forward, having no idea what to say, what to do. He just needed to be near Isaac, ready to react to whatever happened next. Standing beside him, he waited. There was a silence that seemed to stretch on for days. Isaac stared at their enemy, at the man who had masterminded a plot to expose them by slaughtering sheep on a full moon for the last few months, skillfully hiding evidence—or not leaving any—and going about his daily business in the village. Going to work, eating and drinking in the pub, visiting the shops.

  Having a relationship with Isaac.

  Richard stepped out of the vestry with two tranquilizer guns, handing one to Alexander Kennedy. Each man cocked his weapon and aimed at a brother, fingers hovering over the triggers, ready to pull them if necessary.

  The action startled Isaac out of his daze. He looked over his shoulder at Matthew and the expression he saw there was like nothing he’d ever laid eyes on before. His brother’s face looked alien, almost. Eyes full of pain, betrayal, disbelief. Moisture gathered in the corners.

  In that moment, Matthew wanted nothing more than to act on his instincts. To walk up to Nathaniel and rip his pretty head off his shoulders. Or even better, to torture him first. Pull his fingernails out, chop his fingers off, his ears, his tongue. Feed them to him. Sick thoughts raced through his mind at a rate of knots and he realized that every muscle in his body was so tense it hurt.

  He felt sick. Anger, betrayal. He’d thought the fucking man was his friend. But that, of course, paled completely and utterly in comparison with what Isaac must be feeling. Isaac and Nathaniel were a couple, for fuck’s sake. They were in fucking love!

  Matthew’s gaze flicked from Nathaniel to his brother and back again. The silence in the room was deathly. Nobody broke it. Not so much as a sniff. He stayed on guard, ready for anything. Ready for his brother to scream, to shout, to roar, to rush his boyfriend and do God knew what.

  He wouldn’t want to stop him, obviously, if he wanted to murder Nathaniel, but he would, if only to protect him. If anyone was going to prison, it was Matthew. He’d looked after his little brother for over four hundred years and he wasn’t about to quit now. Not for a lying, deceitful scumbag who had betrayed them so deeply that even his heightened intelligence couldn’t get a handle on it.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Isaac took a single step forward, his fists clenched, his entire body tense. Matthew followed, but his brother didn’t move again. Not for a minute, two.

  When the explosion came it was immense. Isaac streaked across the room at what felt like the speed of light, even to Matthew. His arms outstretched, his fingers curved into claws, Isaac lunged at Nathaniel, tears now pouring down his cheeks.

  Matthew leaped, grabbing his brother around the waist and tackling him to the stone floor just before he managed to get his hands around Nathaniel’s throat. Isaac fought like a demon, kicking and shoving, uncaring of where his blows landed or how hard they were. Matthew rolled with every punch, taking it in his stride and continuing to strive for control. The humans surrounding Nathaniel sensibly stepped away, knowing they could do nothing to stop Isaac, nothing to help. They probably didn’t want to, either, knowing what Nathaniel had done.

  After several long minutes of rolling around on the floor, scrabbling for the upper hand, Matthew finally achieved it. Only his slightly larger physique and extra weight had allowed it. That and his unwavering determination that his brother was not going to prison. Not for that piece of shit.

  Letting all his weight pin his brother to the ground, Matthew cast around for something to say. There were truly no words he could speak that would make the situation any better. Or even make him feel better. Finally he just opened his mouth and let something, anything, tumble out.

  “Brother, please. I know it’s impossible, but try to calm down. I want to fuck him up so badly he’ll wish he was dead, then fuck him up some more. But we can’t do any of that. We’ll go to prison and he’ll have won. He’ll get what he wanted all along. Plus if we make a move on him, those two men over there, our friends, will shoot us with those tranquilizer darts. And that will achieve nothing.”

  “It’ll make me feel better,” Isaac spat, wriggling furiously, shooting a look so hate-filled at Nathaniel that Matthew was surprised he didn’t burst into flames there and then.

  The weird thing was, Nathaniel recoiled. He didn’t look afraid, strangely, but he did appear hurt by the look his lover had aimed at hi
m. It made no sense—but then nor did any of this. Questions crowded into Matthew’s mind, questions he knew would be filling his brother’s brain too.

  Ceasing his struggle, Isaac strained his neck to look up at Nathaniel, then stayed perfectly still. He opened his mouth and a single word came out, so choked with agony, with emotion, that Matthew felt as though someone had driven a knife into his back, twisted it.

  “Why?”

  Something hot and wet rolled down Matthew’s cheek, his chin, gravity pulling it through the air and onto the back of Isaac’s top. Realizing what it was, Matthew ignored the hate-filled tears, letting them fall as he continued to hold his brother in place.

  Nathaniel’s expression remained hurt, confused even. But he didn’t speak.

  “Tell me why!” Isaac’s roar filled the church, his anguish bouncing off every tile, every brick, every pew. “I trusted you. Cared about you. I fucking loved you!” The last sentence was more of a sob than words, but its meaning was clear.

  Matthew gulped, swallowing down his own emotion, his hatred instead seeping from every pore, heat building up in every cell until he felt as though he would be incinerated by it. He’d been angry in the past—hell, he was the angriest man he knew—but he’d never felt anything like this before. White-hot rage was barely contained inside him, and it wouldn’t take much more for him to lose that control. The tears dried up.

  “Tell him! Tell him now, or so help me God…”

  Finally Nathaniel reacted, but not in a way that anyone could have anticipated. He laughed, a cold, humorless chuckle that pushed Matthew even closer to the edge, so close he was teetering.

  “God? God can’t fucking help you!” he spat, his gaze moving from Isaac to Matthew. What Matthew saw there now, in that face he’d grown so fond of for making his brother deliriously happy, was hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred. “You’re a fucking abomination! You’re not even human, for Christ’s sake! You’re an animal! A freak.”