The Persecution of the Wolves

by Lucy Felthouse

  Figuring the much-anticipated cup of coffee would help him to think better, he headed into the kitchen and boiled the kettle again, grabbing a fresh mug and spooning in a liberal amount of the brown granules and two sugars, before adding the hot water and a splash of milk. The scent, bizarrely, was calming, and by the time he was halfway down the mug, his brain seemed to wake up and be more capable of coming up with something useful.

  He needed a distraction. A really good distraction, something that made his mind and body so utterly busy he didn’t have time to think about Nathaniel, lust after him, anything. The conference would be a good start—it was all about new technologies and advances in medicine. So Isaac’s brain, which had always been like a sponge, would be busy soaking up all the new information, eager to learn, let it sink in, and apply it to his job, his patients.

  After that, perhaps he would steer clear of the pub for a while to reduce the risk of bumping into Nathaniel. He could pick up a new hobby—he had his computer wizardry, but he was so used to the way systems worked that it didn’t take an awful lot of brain power. Something new would be good. Maybe running while listening to an audiobook or podcast—that would take care of his body and mind all at once. Or even better, was there such a thing as audio brainteasers? If not, maybe he would invent them.

  Isaac figured the longer he stayed away from Nathaniel and the less friendly he was when he saw him, the more quickly this thing he had would just fizzle out. He could only take so much of wanting what he couldn’t have, so he’d eventually move on, forget about it.

  Draining the rest of the coffee, Isaac felt much happier about the outlook. He’d take things one step at a time—conference followed by running and audiobooks, then whatever came next. Soon his crush would be a thing of the past. Excellent.

  Isaac put on some music, turned up the volume to the speakers that piped it throughout the house, and whistled happily as he did a few chores. He also pinged off a text to his brother to let him know the coffee had been taken care of and he would pop by before he headed to Sheffield train station.

  The day whizzed by, and in the end, Isaac didn’t have an awful lot of time to get packed up before he needed to swing by and see his brother. He threw his stuff in the car, drove through the village, and parked his car as close to Nathaniel’s house as he could without blocking the narrow road. Then he locked the vehicle and followed the sound of chopping. He was thankful Nathaniel would have left for work by now.

  As he rounded the corner of the house, he saw Matthew had broken a sweat. It was hardly surprising. He was chopping up thick branches and lobbing them into a skip. Isaac would have been wet through if he’d been doing it.

  “Hey, Matthew,” he said, suspecting his brother wouldn’t have heard him approach over all the noise.

  Turning, Matthew grinned as he swept the back of his hand across his wet forehead. “Hello, brother. All ready for your trip?”

  “Yep. I haven’t got much time before I have to go to Sheffield and get the train, so I’ll cut straight to the chase. What was it you wanted to talk to me about? Something to do with Richard?”

  Matthew tossed his axe onto the grass and approached his brother, his expression sombre. “Yes. He came into the pub last night and wasn’t himself. I asked him if he was okay and he claimed he was, but I saw straight through it and pressed him. He relented and said he’d like to talk to me. So I went to the rectory this morning before coming here.”

  “Oh? What’s it all about? I can probably guess, given you’re about to tell me about it.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re probably right. It’s about this dead sheep business. Apparently, some of the villagers—a small number, luckily—aren’t quite as trusting of us as they’d have us believe. Richard heard some whispers that a few folk are planning to follow us on the full moon, down to the caves. Make sure that’s where we actually go and that we stay in there.”

  Isaac’s mouth dropped open. He closed it with a snap, narrowly avoiding biting his tongue. “Uh, wow. Really? Are they crazy? On both counts, I mean. Not believing us, and thinking it’s safe to follow us down there. They’re not actually planning to go into the caves after us, are they?”

  Holding his hands up, Matthew replied, “I don’t know, mate. Richard’s told me all he’s found out, and as I say, it’s all whispers. No one has divulged their plans to him, and he doesn’t want the person who told him to get in the middle of it, so he hasn’t confronted them yet. He wanted us to know as soon as possible so we could figure out what to do about it.”

  “Christ, we’ve got to stop them. Stop them from coming into the caves, anyway. It’s not bloody safe. Yes, we’ve got control of what we’re doing, but if we’re startled or someone gets in the way while we’re changing… it just doesn’t bear thinking about. Maybe if they waited outside with tranquiliser guns, that would be okay, but I’m definitely not happy for them to take any more risk than that. Especially since it’s all for nothing. You and I both know damn well we did not set foot, or should I say paw, outside that cave system on the last full moon. Fuck’s sake, we need to find out who’s involved so we can do something about it. Damn, why did this have to happen just as I’m going away? I hardly ever bloody leave the village!”

  Matthew placed a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll get this figured out. When I’m next in the pub, I’ll keep an ear out for any whispers, see if I can find out who’s instigated this. God, even if I have to go in there as a punter and start sniffing around, I will.” He paused, scratched his head. “I’m sorry I’m sending you off to your conference with this bit of shitty news, but I needed to tell you face to face.”

  Isaac gave a weak smile. “It’s okay, brother, it’s not your fault. And I appreciate you telling me face to face. Hey, it’s distracted us from yesterday’s disagreement, too, hasn’t it? So maybe it’s not all bad news. Friends again?”

  Now Matthew squeezed his shoulder. “I was never not your friend, Isaac. We haven’t argued for ages. Perhaps we were due a little spat. But I’m glad we’re okay again. And you bought coffee, so consider me absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent your friend!”

  They chuckled, then hugged, clapping each other on the back. “Right,” Isaac said, pulling away, “I’d better get going. I’ve got my phone, so if anything comes up, just drop me a text. If it’s anything urgent, I’ve left the number of the conference hotel on the telephone table at home. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume everything’s okay.”

  Matthew nodded. “Everything will be okay. I’m going to make sure of it. Have a safe trip, and see you in a couple of days.”

  “See you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Matthew waited until his brother had left the property, then he waited some more. He heard the distant slam of a car door and the firing of a familiar engine. Then the car drove away, out of the village and on its way to Sheffield.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned and picked up his axe, glad he had the chopping to do—it was a suitably violent act, yet one that took up next to zero brain power. It meant he could unleash his anger on the branches while working out a strategy at the same time. He hated lying to his brother, hated that he’d had to act like everything was going to be okay when he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be. He was hopeful this didn’t mean the end of everything they’d built in the village over the centuries, but he did believe this was the relative calm before the storm, that things would get worse before they got better. And he just had to make sure Isaac didn’t lose his rag—or his mind—before things got better, otherwise he’d end up being forced to leave the place he loved most.

  He picked up the thickest branch he could see, put it in place and prepared to show it what for. He was barely keeping his fury in check—talking about it with Isaac had brought the barely concealed anger back to the surface, back to his conscious mind, and he had to do something to get rid of it. Preferably something that didn’t hurt anyone. So the
poor old branch was going to get it.

  He hefted the axe, then brought it down hard onto the wood. He soon began to swing and chop in time to his pissed off thoughts.

  Why. The. Fuck. Would. We. Do. That?

  What. Are. They. Thinking?

  Why. The. Fuck. Should. We. Leave. Anyway?

  We. Were. Here. First.

  This. Is. Our. Home.

  We. Haven’t. Even. Done. Anything. Wrong.

  When he’d finished with the wood, he collected the pulverised chunks and tossed them into the skip, glad his rage had dissipated a little. He was just so worried about what would happen next. Since the morning after the last full moon, deep down he’d thought if they could get through the next full moon without the incident being repeated, everyone would realise their fears had been unfounded, that it had just been a freak one-off, and life would continue as normal. Eventually, the whole thing would be forgotten.

  But now this talk of following him and Isaac to the caves had thrown up a whole load more shit to deal with. He wasn’t concerned for the safety of himself and his brother—it would take a lot more than a gun to kill them—but for the villagers in question. A sane member of the public wouldn’t go to the zoo and climb into the lion or tiger enclosure. Especially if that animal was hungry. So why on earth would someone follow two supernatural creatures who only changed once a month into a cave system just to make sure they weren’t slaughtering sheep?

  Christ, why couldn’t they just have taken their word for it? At the very least waited until the next full moon to see if something else happened. If it did, then Matthew agreed something really needed to be done, as losing animals was bad enough, but to have them needlessly slaughtered was wrong.

  He grabbed some more wood to chop and continued pounding away at it while allowing his thoughts to roam wild and free, hoping an idea would pop up. Eventually it did, and it was so good it caused him to throw the axe into the air in triumph. He caught it easily and without incident, then looked around to make sure no one had seen him—there were a couple of windows in neighbouring houses that overlooked Nathaniel’s garden, and one of them belonged to a person not in on the secret. Not that he’d want the other villagers seeing him either. He and Isaac tried to keep their abilities under wraps—they were already asking a lot of people to stay quiet about them, without showing off what they could do and freaking folks out in the process.

  Yes, his plan could work. Certainly as a backup. If he couldn’t find out who the lunatics were who wanted to follow two werewolves into a dark, damp cave system and talk them out of it, then he’d trick them. Well, he and his brother would. They’d let them get on with whatever it was they wanted to do, but he and Isaac would make sure they were a long way away before the humans descended on the caves. They’d go much earlier than normal, which, granted, meant a lot of sitting around, but it would be worth it to prevent endangering lives. As humans, they could manoeuvre through the underground caverns to some that were much further away from the entrance than the one they normally used.

  It was unlikely—unless they found a professional caver to bring with them—that the idiots wanting to follow them would be able to navigate the passages and find them. Plus, they’d have to be pretty brave to head any further in than their usual cavern, as they might not be able to find their way out again.

  He and Isaac had, over the years, explored the intricate system of caves and old mines in its entirety. Which was how he knew where they could go and what area would safely contain them when they were in wolf form.

  Feeling much better now that he had a plan in mind, Matthew began to chop wood much less viciously than before, and with an accompanying whistled tune. What added to his improved mood was the fact he’d come up with the idea by himself—without Isaac, who was undoubtedly the brains of the outfit. He’d be able to wait until his brother returned home from his trip, bring him up to date on what had happened since, and present him with a solution. All Isaac would have to do was follow the plan.

  Matthew grinned. He liked being able to take care of his younger brother. For centuries it hadn’t been at all necessary, especially since Isaac had come of age and his supernatural abilities had kicked in. But Matthew liked to do his job as an older brother—it made him feel useful, needed. Maybe the idiots and their silly plan weren’t all bad. He had no control whatsoever over Isaac’s thoughts and feelings, especially towards a certain newcomer to the village, and he certainly couldn’t control the outcome of that. But he could and would take control of this particular situation and make sure it turned out for the best.

  And with a bit of luck, the morning after the next full moon, there would be no dead sheep—or dead anything for that matter—up on the moor. Then they and the villagers could put this whole sorry mess behind them.

  Later that day, he was on full alert from the moment he closed the front door behind him. He didn’t want to miss a thing, anything that could help him find out what he needed to know. It was unlikely the conspirators would be whispering on street corners or down secluded pathways, especially in broad daylight, but it wasn’t impossible. So he’d be aware of everyone and everything, right up until he got home again after his shift.

  Unsurprisingly, the village was quiet as he ambled through it to the pub. It was that time between people arriving home from nine-to-five type jobs and heading out again for the evening, either to see friends, walk their dogs, or pop into the Miners for a pint. They were probably showering, having their dinner, catching up with their families. The tourists had all cleared out, too. With the museum and Eyam Hall closed for the day and their own homes calling, they tended to leave before the majority of residents arrived back in the village.

  As a result, he saw only a handful of people on his commute. He exchanged greetings and polite nods with each before continuing towards work. He sped up a little as he passed the village shop, hoping like hell Amy didn’t see him and rush out for a chat. She was a sweet kid, really she was, but he just wasn’t interested. Even if he could enter into a relationship, it wouldn’t be with her. She was too young, too naïve, and it certainly didn’t help that her dad would probably kill him if he went there. Or he would try, anyway.

  Fortunately, Amy was beautiful and smart, and soon enough another man would snap her up and she’d forget all about Matthew. He hoped it was sooner rather than later. She was a complication he could do without.

  Heading in through the main door of the public house, he smiled and nodded to those he saw and went to punch in, getting a serious sense of déjà vu. Maybe he was working too much—he had already done what most people would consider to be a full day’s work, and now he was clocking on for another shift. He had to take a break soon, otherwise Mrs Smithers would be round to tell him off for not coming to see her. She’d done it several times in the past, hiding her concern for him behind anger at his absence.

  A glance at the rota on the wall reminded him he was off tomorrow, which was great timing. If he didn’t find out what he needed to tonight, he could head into the pub the following evening as a paying customer. And he’d have time in between sorting Nathaniel’s garden—it could definitely be called a garden now—and heading to the Miners to go and see his neighbour and assure her he was all right. He shook his head. He had no idea why she worried about him so much. It wasn’t as if anything could hurt him. Sure, old age would get him eventually, but other than that he was pretty much immortal. It was sweet that she cared, and he decided he’d grab her a bunch of flowers from the florist. Just for being her.

  He stepped into the bar area, poured Gordon another pint without being asked and took the money with a nod. The old fella really did put a fortune in the till, so it was worth keeping him happy. And it didn’t take much, to be fair. Give him another drink before he’d finished his last one and cut him off before he fell off his stool and he was an utterly satisfied customer. It also avoided a bollocking from his wife if he rolled home stinking drunk.

  After chec
king everyone else in the vicinity was okay, he came out from behind the bar and headed for the tables, where he cleared any glasses and remnants of the lunchtime rush, which were generally tourists who lingered long after it could still be classed as lunchtime. He took the plates, bowls and cutlery into the kitchen, left them on the side, then loaded the glasses into the dishwasher. He put it on, then grabbed the cleaning spray and a cloth and started making the tables presentable, ready for any patrons that would come in.

  It didn’t take them long to arrive. Perhaps there had been a round of tough days at work, as a great many of Eyam’s men piled into the Miners—probably leaving the wives at home in front of the TV, watching their favourite soaps. Matthew and the pub’s owner, Dennis Elyot, took a side of the bar each, pulled pints, and took money as fast as they could, heaving a sigh of relief when the rush was over.

  Matthew especially was relieved, as it meant he could do his job at a normal pace rather than the one hundred miles an hour he’d had to adopt to serve the onslaught of thirsty villagers. And a normal pace meant he could dedicate a great deal of himself to eavesdropping. He did just that as he kept on top of his other tasks—pulling Gordon more pints and supplying him with peanuts, clearing up discarded crisp and nut packets, taking meal orders. But there was nothing taxing, and he was able to listen in on every patron at some point. Sadly, none of them seemed to be discussing anything more interesting than leaky ceilings, crappy jobs, and rising energy prices. Not forgetting the favourite British topic—the weather.

  The door swung open and a group of three more villagers traipsed into the pub. They ordered a pint each, then snagged the last remaining table, which happened to be at the far end of the room from the bar. It didn’t matter—Matthew was still more than capable of hearing them. And hear them he would. Making sure he looked busy doing something else while training his ears on their conversation, he waited to see if the three men had anything interesting or useful to say.