The Persecution of the Wolves

by Lucy Felthouse

  Nathaniel grinned. “You have a good ear for accents, do you? Well, you’re right, I’ve only moved from Sheffield. I still work there, but I got fed up of living in the city. It’ll still only take me forty minutes or so to commute in—and there are some seriously gorgeous views to be had on the way. I’ll have to be careful to pay attention, otherwise I’m going to end up in a ditch!”

  “Sounds good to me. The views, I mean, not you ending up in a ditch. Well, you’ve picked a wonderful place to move to. I know I’m biased, because I’ve lived here all my life, but I’d never consider leaving.”

  “That’s grand. So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long is ‘all your life’? You look around my age.”

  Great. Less than ten minutes of conversation with a good-looking bloke and I’m already having to tell lies. Fortunately, it was a lie he had to tell fairly often, so he didn’t have to think about it. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that, I’m rubbish at guessing ages. But I’m thirty-six.” Give or take three hundred and seventy-something years, that is.

  “I’m thirty-seven. Seems I am good at guessing ages. Can I get you another pint?” Nathaniel pointed to his glass, and it was only when his attention was drawn to it that Isaac realised he’d nearly finished his beer.

  Surprised, he picked up the glass and downed the rest. “No, let me. My way of welcoming you to Eyam.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you. I’ll have a pint of the house beer. You get family discount or something?” He winked to show he was joking.

  Immediately, a jolt of something he’d almost forgotten about zipped to Isaac’s lower belly. Oh yeah, arousal, that was it. Christ, how long was it since he’d got laid? No. Don’t even go there.

  “Ha, I wish,” he almost barked. Then, standing abruptly, he forced a smile onto his face, grabbed both glasses and went to the bar. Putting them down a little more heavily than he intended to, Isaac cringed when his brother shot him a look through the archway that led to the other side of the bar. Attempting a grin, he shrugged at his sibling and waited to be served.

  As it happened, it was Matthew who finished with his customer before his colleague, so he headed through to where Isaac stood. After a glance down at the two glasses and back up at his brother, his expression morphed into a confused one.

  Before Matthew could say anything stupid or inappropriate—as he often did—Isaac jerked his head towards Nathaniel. “I’m buying the new villager a drink. I think you’ve met already.”

  Matthew glanced at Nathaniel, then focused on his brother. “Oh, right. I wouldn’t say met, exactly, as I was flat out when I served him, but we’ve spoken.”

  “Great. Two pints, please.” He coupled his words with a look that said, I’ll tell you later.

  With a curt nod, Matthew turned away, refilled the two pint glasses, then placed them back in front of Isaac one by one.

  “Cheers, mate.” He handed his brother a ten-pound note, waited for his change, then grabbed the pints of beer and headed back to Nathaniel’s table.

  “Here you go.” He placed the drinks down and retook his seat.

  “Fantastic, thanks. That’s very kind of you.”

  “You’re welcome. Cheers.” He raised his glass. Nathaniel did the same and they clinked them together before sipping the brew.

  Isaac restarted the conversation before Nathaniel had a chance to ask any more awkward questions. “So, you’re here to get out of the city, which I totally get. But what do you do in the city? And which house have you moved into? There have been a handful up for sale.”

  “Oh.” Nathaniel wrinkled his nose, an action Isaac thought was terribly cute. “Nothing exciting. I’m an IT manager. Which comes in handy, really, because it means I can do so many days a week working from home. Though I’m on holiday at the moment until I get the house sorted. And I’m just over the road, at Lydgate.”

  Isaac nodded. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with IT. I may be a doctor, but I’m pretty hot with a computer too. They certainly make life much easier. And Lydgate is handy, isn’t it? You’ll have to hurry up and find your kitchen, otherwise you’ll blow all your wages on meals in here. Not that I’d blame you—the chef is a genius.”

  “That he is. Or she?”

  “It’s a he.”

  “So where do you live then? Nearby?”

  “Sort of. Everywhere’s nearby in the village, really, but we’re up at the other end of Main Road, almost where it turns into Townhead.”

  “Ah, okay. I know roughly where you mean. I haven’t explored that far yet, since I moved here. I daren’t yet in case I get distracted and don’t actually unpack any boxes.”

  Isaac grinned. “I don’t blame you. You start looking around and you’ll quickly get absorbed in all the lovely architecture and history.”

  Looking thoughtful, Nathaniel replied, “Oh, you mean the plague history?”

  “That’s part of it. The most famous part.”

  “And the most fascinating. What happened here was incredible. It’s no wonder people are still interested in it, still talking and learning about it several centuries later.”

  To buy himself some time, Isaac took a long pull on his drink. He had to be careful how he worded his response—he didn’t want to slip up and say something he shouldn’t. Especially since the glimmer of hope that had alighted in his belly could make him overenthusiastic. “Absolutely. Do you know a lot about it then? Do you have family in the village?”

  “No, I’ve got no family in the village. But I was brought up in Sheffield, so it was pretty much local history and we learnt about it at school, came on a trip, visited the museum. But it stuck in my mind and I’ve been here a few times over the years, which is why it was such an easy choice to make when I decided to move. I already knew the village a little bit from popping in for day trips at weekends, and when I found the house and the price was right, I just knew it was meant to be.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t a descendant of any of the original villagers then. He hadn’t recognised the surname, but then the chances of someone with so many generations in between still having the same last name were slim. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. If he’d been a descendant, there was a chance he might already know the secret—it wasn’t confined to people still living in Eyam. Families had moved out over the centuries.

  And if Nathaniel had known the secret… well, he couldn’t help but think it would have been a good thing. If he did indeed bat for the same team as Isaac—a fact he was becoming increasingly certain of—then a relationship between them wouldn’t have been so impossible. Tough, yes, especially since Isaac hadn’t yet bothered to come out, but not impossible.

  Fuck, why was he even thinking all this? Relationships were off the table, had been for centuries. He hadn’t lived like a monk, because the blue balls would have been a huge problem, but he’d had his occasional one-nighters and short flings outside the boundaries of Eyam. Usually a long way away, so as not to shit where he ate.

  He knew he wasn’t the only one either. Isaac suspected Matthew had some friends with benefits in both Sheffield and Manchester, as he disappeared off to one or the other about once a month and came back slightly less grumpy than normal and with a spring in his step.

  Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps it was due to the stupidly long period of time since he’d been with anyone. He didn’t have a friend with benefits. He wasn’t going to try to put a definitive length of time on his last horizontal tango because that would be terribly depressing, but it was clearly long enough to make him suddenly crazy over a green-eyed hunk he’d known for less than an hour.

  Yeah, he definitely needed to get laid. And hot though he was, he was certainly not going to have sex with Nathaniel Marsden. Absolutely bloody not.

  Chapter Five

  Two weeks after the dead sheep incident, Matthew was feeling pretty good. He’d scored himself some work at Nathaniel Marsden’s place and the man was offering to pay him handsomely. Matthew suspected his brother had sug
gested him to Nathaniel in the first place, but it didn’t really matter. It got him out of the house when he didn’t have a shift at the Miners and although he didn’t need the money—centuries of working and not spending an awful lot had seen to that—it was always nice to earn more cash to put away for a rainy day. Or in case he and his brother needed to flee the village. Isaac didn’t know about Matthew’s emergency fund, because he wouldn’t like to even contemplate the idea of leaving the village. Ever since Mompesson had talked them out of it all those years ago, Isaac had become a staunch lover of Eyam, and that was the end of it.

  So although Matthew considered the fund his brother’s as much as his own, he saw no need to tell him about it. In the event they ever needed it, he was sure Isaac would be grateful for its existence.

  Work aside, there had been no further animal attacks, and although he had noticed a few people in the village looking at him differently when it had first happened, things had now settled right down. It was receding into the past, it seemed, and getting on with life as normal was the order of the day. Matthew was more than happy to jump on that particular bandwagon, so he whistled cheerfully as he walked through the village to Nathaniel’s house on Lydgate, glad the sun was once again shining. A bit of rain didn’t bother him, not really, but outdoor work was so much nicer in the sunshine.

  He stopped at the Lydgate Graves, gave a nod of acknowledgment and respect, and carried on. He wasn’t going to dwell on all that again. Most of the time he could handle it, but once he started thinking, really thinking, and remembering what had happened, it became very difficult. So he focused instead on the present and the future, and keeping busy helped him with that.

  Once he reached Nathaniel’s property, he opened the gate, stepped through, closed it behind him, then walked straight past the house and into the back garden. Nathaniel had returned to work in Sheffield after getting most of his unpacking done and was now turning his mind to decorating indoors and tidying the horribly neglected garden. He hadn’t mentioned the possibility of Matthew doing any of the decorating, but he certainly wouldn’t turn it down if it were offered. For now, his job was to fight with the overgrown trees, bushes, and weeds, and basically turn it into a respectable garden rather than something resembling a jungle. The newcomer had told him all the gardening tools and so on were in the shed, which he hadn’t yet managed to buy a new padlock for. Matthew had laughed and told him not to worry too much—theft was a rarity in the village. That knowledge had spurred Nathaniel on to leave a key under a plant pot by the back door so Matthew could get in to make himself drinks, use the facilities, and so on. Matthew had taken care of those particular needs before leaving his own house, so he got stuck straight into his tasks.

  He unlatched and opened the door of the rickety shed and stepped in, then began pulling out what he needed. An electric lawnmower—it was a good thing he’d been left the house key, otherwise that would have been a moot point—hedge clippers, gardening gloves, spade, and a bunch of other things. He had an evening shift at the pub, so he’d be able to make a good start on Nathaniel’s garden before he had to head home and get showered and changed for his other job.

  He tugged on the gloves—no sense using his healing powers if he could prevent scratches and cuts from happening in the first place—and grabbed the hedge clippers, then turned to the garden, feeling determined. It was then he realised the extent of the work that needed doing. Bugger. It really was like a jungle. Never mind—he was being paid by the day, not for the entire job, so it was all good. He’d just get stuck in and do what he could today, then come back tomorrow and for as many days as was needed—or until Nathaniel suggested otherwise.

  Eyeing the insane tangle, Matthew wondered where to start. He’d have to speak to Nathaniel later about hiring a skip. There was going to be so much garden waste that loading it into cars and taking it to the refuse site would be pretty much unmanageable. It’d be cheaper—not to mention a damn sight easier—to pay someone else to dispose of it.

  He decided to approach the task logically. He’d work from left to right, starting at the clump of unidentifiable leafy stuff by the back door. At least the man would be able to get to his rubbish bins without being attacked by thorns. Matthew strode over to his starting point and got stuck in. The clippers were sharp, the sun was out, pleasant but not too hot, and things were looking up. He started whistling again, a mindless tune he was barely aware of.

  He stopped only when a tentative hand on his shoulder made him whirl around, startled. And the very act of being startled confused the hell out of him—his superior hearing and other senses meant nobody could ever creep up on him. Except perhaps his brother.

  Indeed, a grinning Isaac stood there, brandishing a carrier bag. “Brought you some lunch.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

  “I am allowed a lunch break, you know. Granted, I don’t often get chance to take my break, but I am allowed one. We’re a bit quiet today, so I thought I’d grab you a sandwich and some other stuff from the shop.”

  “Cheers, mate. Good of you.”

  Isaac shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a good brother.”

  “Hmm. Am I sensing an ulterior motive here?”

  His brother had the gall to look offended. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve come for a poke around Nathaniel’s house, haven’t you?”

  “We’re supposed to call him Nathan,” Isaac said quickly, too quickly in Matthew’s opinion, and his already suspicious mind was shoved into overdrive. He rolled his eyes.

  “I know, but he’s not here, so I’ll call him whatever I like. And Nathaniel suits him better. Can’t quite work out why, it’s just one of those things. And why are you so defensive of him?”

  “I’m not.”

  Now Matthew sighed. “Sure you’re not.” He took the carrier bag and peered inside eagerly, pleased to see all his favourites in there. Perhaps he did have a pretty good brother. It was just a shame he was a terrible liar. “You’ve got a thing for him, haven’t you?”

  “Who?”

  Matthew fixed him with a look, refusing to dignify the question with an answer, given it was obviously a delaying or avoidance tactic. A really bad one.

  Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Isaac dropped his gaze to the still-uncut grass, then back up to his brother’s face. “All right,” he snapped. “I have a thing for him. But you don’t need to say anything. I know it’s stupid, I only just met him, I hardly know him, and that’s before you even include all the real reasons I can’t do anything about it. So don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything. We’ll be friends, I hope, but that’s it.”

  Matthew held up his hands, the hedge clippers and grocery bag he held swinging dangerously close to the sides of his head. “Hey, there’s no need to get arsey with me, Isaac. I was just teasing you and you’re the one who’s gone and flown off the handle. If you want to go and have a nosey around the guy’s house, be my guest. There’s a key under… that plant pot.” He pointed to the single one that stood near the back door.

  “You mean you haven’t even been in there?”

  “No. Why would I? I’m working in the garden, not the house. And I haven’t needed the loo yet. But now you come to mention it…” He walked over to the back door and leaned the clippers up against the wall before retrieving the key and letting them into the house. “Come on. I need to use the bathroom, and we might as well eat in here. It’s not exactly the sort of garden for a picnic, is it? Not yet. It will be when I’ve finished with it.”

  He dumped the bag containing his lunch on the large table in the kitchen they’d just entered. Then he pulled off his gloves, followed by his boots—he didn’t want to get any garden muck in the house—and headed off in search of the bathroom. He was back within minutes, having relieved himself and washed his hands.

  “All right, moody, let’s eat.” Isaac had already taken a seat, but had his arms folded and was staring out of the window. “Hey,
you with me?” Matthew waved a hand in front of his brother’s face, earning himself a surprised look. He finally seemed to return to the room, then pulled his bag towards him and reached a hand in.

  Shaking his head, Matthew sat down in another of the chairs and removed the goodies from his own bag. Figuring his brother was in no mood to talk, he dug in right away, liberating the sandwiches from their almost-impenetrable plastic prison and making short work of them. Before long, he’d also polished off the crisps, the sausage roll, scotch egg, and banana. Sitting back in his chair, he grinned, satisfied, then burped.

  Isaac’s gaze finally landed on him, and the look on his face was not impressed.

  “Sorry, brother. Just passing on my compliments to the chef, that’s all.”

  The younger man’s face still remained impassive. Realising he’d inadvertently put his brother into a horrible mood, he decided to keep his mouth shut for now. The way he was glaring at him, nothing he said would be right. He stifled a sigh, then downed half the bottle of flavoured water that had also been in the bag and stood up. “Right, well I’m going to get back to it. Why don’t you lock up when you’re finished and put the key back where it was?”

  Isaac nodded curtly in response, and Matthew resisted the temptation to glare back at his younger brother. He was supposed to be the moody one, not Isaac. Isaac was the handsome village doctor who had women fabricating medical problems or turning themselves into hypochondriacs in order to visit the surgery and be looked at by him. He seemed to get flirted with by every woman he met, despite the fact he never flirted back. Sure, he was kind, friendly, but he never led anyone on, and still they tried. They’d be devastated if they ever found out they were barking up the wrong tree.

  Matthew stepped into his boots and laced them up, then retrieved the gloves and headed back outside, closing the door behind him. A pang of regret hit him. Who was he kidding, thinking about the village women being devastated that they were barking up the wrong tree? Everyone was barking up the wrong tree if they thought they had a chance with Isaac. The agreement they’d made all those years ago was a sensible one, but it was sad. Tragic, actually. They’d essentially agreed to give up any chance of love, of happiness, in order to keep their secret safe and to stop people from getting hurt.