Wolf House (Potter's Story)

by Tim O'Rourke

  Wolf House

  (Potter’s Story)

  Kiera Hudson Series Book 4.5

  By

  Tim O’Rourke

  Copyright 2011 by Tim O’Rourke

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission from the author.

  Book cover designed by:

  Carles Barrios

  Copyright: Carles Barrios 2011

  Carlesbarrios.blogspot.com

  Edited by:

  Carolyn M. Pinard

  carolynpinardconsults@gmail.com

  This book is dedicated to:

  Jennifer Goehl

  Michelle Auricht

  Kayla Goehl

  Kaycee Smith

  Greta Malone

  Shana Benedict

  Sharra Courter Turner

  Rachel B

  Holly Harper

  Jennifer Martin-Green

  Karen Trout

  Robin F. Fischer

  Misty

  Becki Goddard

  Stephanie Noe DiMattia

  Robbie Parker

  Jasmine Poole

  Laura Povey

  Jade A Bassett Karnes

  Sarah Parker

  Marsha Grigsby

  Sarah Day

  Tamara Rose Bladgett

  Emily Kenyon

  Daisy Kennedy

  Jeana Green

  Jen Montgomery

  Melissa

  Meredith Morrison

  Suzi

  Christina Pryor

  MeeShark

  Caryn Cleveland

  Chrissy Costello Godsey

  Diana Stabler Butler

  Carrissa Hopkins

  Jennifer Bryson

  Meesha R. Knowles

  So glad you’ve enjoyed the books!

  A special thank you to

  Carles Barrios & Carolyn M. Pinard

  Who both gave up their time to help with this book

  At very short notice!

  &

  Lynda, Joseph, Thomas and Zachary

  For putting up with me!

  Authors note:

  Of all my characters, Kiera and Potter have been the most talked about. From the many emails that I receive – most want to know more about them.

  The first four books in the Kiera Hudson Series are all from Kiera’s point of view and I think we know her well enough by now. But what about Potter? So for all the Potter fans that want to know more about him, here is his story.

  Potter hopes you enjoy it!

  “Wolf House” (Potter’s Story)

  A 30,000 word novella

  Set between books 4 & 5 of the Kiera Hudson Series

  1

  Kiera’s words, “You’re scaring me, Potter!” kept going around and around in my mind. Her voice had been scared and confused, and I hated the sound of it. Not just that, it was her eyes. They usually looked like a cornfield someone had set a torch to, gold and bright, almost ablaze – but as she had looked at me and said, “You’re scaring me, Potter!” her eyes seemed darker somehow, as if they had lost their fire. There had been a tremor to her voice and that bothered me too. I didn’t want her to be scared of me because she had no reason to be. She bugged the hell out of me most of the time with her little-miss-know-it-all attitude, but she was smart and I couldn’t deny that. But, I guess in a perverse kind of way, I liked that about her. She didn’t just have the sweetest cheeks I’d ever seen, she had brains too. There was a spark in Kiera, and that spark had ignited something inside me.

  I’d never been great at expressing my feelings and writing fancy poetry – to be honest I was always thought that kind of stuff was bullshit. I mean if you love someone, you just love them, does it need to get anymore complex than that? I don’t think so. I’d never been into all that romancing stuff. A girl either likes you or she doesn’t, jeez, I’d known guys who had spent a fortune on wining and dining and still never scored a home run! The biggest bunch of flowers, the brightest diamond, and all the fanciest poetry in the world ain’t gonna hide the fact that you’re butt-ugly with the personality of an amoeba.

  I’d told Kiera how I’d felt about her and I hadn’t had to use any fancy words, I just told her how it was. I don’t know if it’s what she’d been expecting, I suppose other guys might have declared their undying love to her in another way – a more romantic way – but the Bruno Mars song was a stroke of genius on my behalf. I still think ‘I’m Your Man’ by Wham would have been better, or even ‘The Edge of Heaven’, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps another time. But was there ever going to be another time for us – for me and Kiera?

  I feared the odds were stacked against me. Not only was I going to rescue Luke and bring him back to her, I still didn’t know exactly how Kiera felt for him. With the Brad Pitt of the team returning, would I stand a chance? Did Kiera feel for me the same way as I felt for her? I got a sick feeling in my gut when I wondered if I wasn’t some emotional prop for her while Lukey-boy had been off the scene. Then I could hear Kiera’s voice again, “You’re scaring me, Potter!” and I pushed it away.

  I must be going on some emotional shootout; either that or I’d completely lost the fucking plot! Why was I putting my life at risk to save the person I feared Kiera was truly in love with? And had I gone too far by killing Eloisa in front of her?

  “You’re scaring me, Potter!”

  And I had scared her. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. But I couldn’t go back and explain; I had to keep moving forward through the driving wind and freezing snow to rescue Luke. Why? Because he was my friend, just like Murphy had been. We had a history together. We’d shared a lot. Luke had been like a brother and Murphy like a father to me. Both of them had literally taken me beneath their wings. So, if by rescuing Luke and killing Eloisa in front of Kiera I ended up losing her, then that would be something I would have to live with, because I had reasons for doing both.

  I couldn’t turn my back on Luke and I couldn’t let Murphy’s death go without revenge. We had been a team, and I could remember way back when…

  2

  …the red traffic signal ahead glowed an angry red. The line of traffic in front began to slow, but Murphy sped up.

  “Lights!” Murphy snapped, although it sounded more like “mights!” as he sucked on the end of his pipe.

  I took the blue emergency light from the dashboard, and winding down the window, I lent out and stuck it to the roof. Flicking a switch, the light came on, lighting up the night in strobes of fluorescent blue.

  “Do you want the sirens? Go on, Sarge, we’ve got to have sirens!” I smiled and stuck a cigarette in the corner of my mouth.

  “Of course I want the bloody sirens!” Murphy barked.

  Grinning from ear to ear, I hit the switch and then lit my cigarette. The whoop-whoop! sound of the sirens made my heart race.

  The traffic ahead began to peel away and head for the curb as they cleared a path for us. Murphy lurched our unmarked cruiser left then right and pressed his boot hard against the accelerator. We sped through a STOP sign in the road junction and nearly collided with another car that snaked across our path. Murphy slammed on the brakes and I shot forward, smashing my face into the windscreen.

  “Christ almighty!” I yelled as I rocked back into my seat and snatched the now-crumpled cigarette from my mouth.

  Rolling down the window,
I roared at the driver of the other vehicle, “What’s the matter with you!”

  The driver sat in his car and glared at me.

  “Have you got shit in your eyes, or what?” I hollered at him again.

  “I was driving here!” the driver shouted back.

  “And can’t you see we’re the police here? Didn’t you see the big flashing thing on top of the car?” I roared. “Look where you’re going next time, Mr. Fucking Magoo!”

  “Just leave it,” Luke said, poking his head from the backseat of the car.

  “He could have killed us!” I said, looking back at him.

  “These things happen,” Luke replied in his usual, unruffled manner.

  “Not to me they don’t!” I shot back. “That jerk is dangerous – he shouldn’t even have a driving licence!”

  Smiling, Luke sat back in his seat and said, “Potter, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

  “And I s’pose you think you’re gonna be the one to teach me?” I asked, glaring at Luke, then back at the dumb driver.

  Speeding away from the near-car wreck, Murphy growled, “Potter, just keep your face shut. I’m not interested in driving offences. We’ve just discovered that we might have a rogue Lycanthrope to catch. If you want to deal with traffic, go and get yourself one of those bright yellow jackets and spend the rest of your life prancing up and down at the nearest school-crossing!”

  “But…” I started.

  “No buts!” Murphy barked, gunning the vehicle faster and faster out of the town of Little Hope to its outskirts where the railway station lay. Without taking his eyes off the unlit road ahead, Murphy peered through a cloud of blue smoke that wafted from his pipe and said, “Don’t forget, wise guy, that if I hadn’t got you out of police training school, you’d probably be sweeping the streets or raking the tunnels back in The Hollows right now.”

  “I was doing just fine at training school,” I snapped back, although deep down I knew Murphy had gotten me out of the shit. I was just about to be kicked out for putting three of my trainers in hospital. It hadn’t been my fault. They’d been trying to teach us some fancy new restraint techniques – arm locks and crap like that. I really didn’t mean to break their arms while practicing the new moves. It wasn’t my fault that I was stronger than most.

  Looking at Murphy, I said, “I’m grateful to you for getting me out – but I didn’t mean to break those guys’ arms.”

  “Break their arms!” Murphy coughed on a throat full of pipe smoke. “You nearly ripped them clean off!”

  “Yeah, poor old Patterson’s arms looked like they belonged to that guy from the Fantastic Four by the time you’d finished with him,” Luke said from the back of the car.

  “Okay! Okay! So I get a little enthusiastic from time to time,” I said. “But I’m a good cop and don’t need you two babysitting me all the time.”

  “We’ll see,” Murphy said as he stopped the cruiser in the small car park outside the Little Hope railway station.

  3

  There were three marked police vehicles already parked outside the railway station and several officers in those fluorescent yellow jackets. I noticed some of them were already marking out the crime scene with reams of blue and white police tape.

  Swinging the car door open, I stepped out into the cold November night. Although the town of Little Hope was situated on the remote west coast of England, the night was surprisingly dry for this time of the year. The sky was clear and star-shot, and a full moon hung above like a giant yellow eye, watching us.

  Murphy and Luke climbed from the cruiser, and pulling the collar of my coat up against the crisp wind, I made my way towards the outter cordon that had been put in place to protect the crime scene. Grabbing my arm, Murphy stopped me.

  “Listen, Potter, remember what I said, no wisecracks. Just listen, watch, and learn.” He stared at me with his piercing blue eyes and they looked hard and frosty, just like his short, silver hair.

  “Whatever you say, Sarge,” I said, and looked at Luke who was standing just behind Murphy.

  I liked Luke, but he was just a bit too straight-laced. I mean, he was a good guy and I knew he had been friends with Murphy for a while now. Had they been friends before coming from The Hollows, I didn’t know, but they had a solid friendship. Sometimes though, Luke tried to act like my big brother. I didn’t have a big brother and I didn’t want one or need one, not to mention, Luke was a couple of years younger than me. I was twenty-four for Christ’s sake, I could look after myself.

  Luke noticed me looking at him and he gave me a friendly smile. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about,” he said, looking over at the taped-off railway station.

  Eyeing us both carefully, Murphy said, “As we know from Chief Inspector Rom, a possible murder has occurred here at the hands of a Lycanthrope, so whatever happens, we have jurisdiction here. These cops aren’t going to be happy about us marching in and taking over. So let’s be nice about it, okay?”

  Then, without saying another word, Murphy strode towards the ring of police tape, his pipe hanging from his mouth and his hands thrust into his coat pockets. I turned to make after him, when Luke suddenly pulled me back.

  “He isn’t really mad at you,” Luke said. “It’s just his way of looking out for you.”

  “Look, I never asked Murphy to be my knight in shining armour,” I said, lighting a cigarette. “If I’d been kicked out of the Force, I would have taken care of myself.” How true this was, I didn’t know. I guessed that I would have had a couple of choices. One, scrape a living above ground, or two, go back to The Hollows and listen to my father gloat about how he knew that I would never be able to survive above ground and how I’d screwed up again.

  Luke must have detected some small trace of uncertainty in my voice, as he said, “The only way this works – how this whole thing works – is if we stick together and listen to what the Sarge says.”

  “It’s just that he watches me the whole time,” I groaned, knowing deep down that Luke was right. “It’s as if he doesn’t trust me.”

  “He trusts you all right, or you wouldn’t be standing here right now,” Luke smiled and brushed his jet-black hair from his brow. “Murphy’s been above ground longer than us and he knows the score. He knows how to deal with humans, how to fit in, how to go about unnoticed and not draw any unwanted attention -”

  Luke was suddenly cut short by the sound of Murphy shouting from the entrance of the railway station.

  “Wind your neck in, boy!” Murphy was yelling at a fresh-faced police officer who stood at the entrance to the station clutching a clipboard in his hands. “You don’t need my name, rank, or number for your list! I’m having access to this crime scene whether you like it or not!”

  Glancing back at Luke, I raised my eyebrows and said, “What were you saying about not drawing attention to ourselves?”

  Not waiting for Luke’s reply, I made my way between the parked police vehicles. As I went, an officer suddenly appeared from the rear of one of the cars. Holding out my hands, I gripped this person as they tripped and fell against me.

  “Take it easy,” I said, pushing the officer off me.

  They straightened themselves and peered at me from beneath a cap. It was then I noticed that this officer was female. Her pale skin flushed with embarrassment and she said, “I’m sorry about that. I really should look where I’m going.”

  I looked at her and drew in a breath. She wasn’t beautiful but was way beyond just being pretty. There was something about her. Maybe it was her eyes; they sparkled back at me from beneath the peak of her cap.

  “No, its fine,” I said, staring at her. “An honest mistake.”

  “Okay,” she smiled at me, and walked away.

  I watched her go, then my attention was drawn away by the sound of Murphy shouting again.

  “Listen, sonny,” Murphy was saying, prodding the young officer in the chest with his finger, “I couldn’t give a rat’s arse who told you that no one coul
d enter this crime scene unless I give you my details.”

  “But I don’t know who you are,” the cop was blustering as Luke and I joined Murphy. In a way, I kinda felt sorry for this cop. I mean, three guys suddenly show up at the scene of a murder dressed in long, black coats, jeans, and boots, with no form of identification and then demand that they be given access to the body. If I were this cop, would I let us in? No way, I’d being telling us to go screw ourselves.

  “You don’t need to know who we are,” Murphy continued.

  “But -” the officer tried.

  “You don’t hear real good, do you, sonny?” Murphy said, but before he could say anything further, a figure stepped from the shadows of the station entrance and came towards us. He was tall and lean, and the top of his head was almost hairless apart from a few wispy strands of black hair that fluttered in the wind. His face looked pinched and gaunt, with beady, black eyes that were set too close together. His eyebrows met in the middle like some vast caterpillar. He wore a black, pinstriped suit and he looked like something that had stepped out of a Tim Burton movie.

  Eyeing the three of us as if we had just slithered from the nearest gutter, he turned to the young uniformed officer and said, “Is there a problem, Constable Drake?”

  Sounding flustered, Constable Drake said, “These gentlemen are insisting that they are given access to the crime scene.”

  “Really?” the half-starved-looking Uncle Fester smiled at us. “And who might you be?”

  “You don’t need to know who we are,” Murphy told him.

  “Go away or I’ll have you all arrested,” he sneered at us.

  His attitude was starting to piss me off, so I said, “And what about you? Who in the hell are you anyway?”