To begin with, they didn’t. It was just as mind-numbingly dull as the stuff everyone else had been coming out with. But after they’d finished their first drinks and collected another, their tongues started to loosen. Even if Matthew hadn’t been zeroing in on them in particular, he would have when they lowered their voices. It was a dead giveaway, and Matthew immediately started concentrating harder, all the while giving the air of being incredibly busy with his job.
Before five minutes was up, Matthew knew he had his men. Even if he hadn’t been able to hear them, their shifty body language and constant peering around the room, with the occasional stare at him would have given them away. But he didn’t need any of that secondary stuff. He’d heard them discussing him and his brother, and that was enough.
After a glance around confirmed everyone was okay, he strode nonchalantly out into the room, picking up the odd empty glass and smiling and chatting with people. He was every inch the good barman, looking after his customers, making sure they were happy. By the time he turned to the table at the back, the three men had clammed up and were looking increasingly uncomfortable the closer he got.
Pasting the biggest grin he could summon onto his face, he approached them. “All right, gentlemen? Can I take any glasses, get you anything else?”
Chapter Ten
The three men, all between forty and fifty, shifted in their chairs and looked anywhere except at Matthew. Tom Dunwell, the oldest of the three, eventually choked out, “No, we’re all right, thanks.”
Matthew had to hold on tight to his irritation. All three men had grown up in the village, so he’d known them all their lives, and while he’d never classed them as friends, they certainly weren’t his enemies. Though they seemed to want to make themselves into enemies. Still injecting immense friendliness into his tone, he perched on a spare stool at the table, then reached out and clapped the nearest man on the back. Carl Lamb, who was the youngest of the three, looked as though he was about to make a mess in his underwear.
“Are you sure, gentlemen? I’m here to help, to make sure you’re happy, well fed, and watered.”
The third man, John Rayne, didn’t look as worried as the other two. He certainly wasn’t the brains of the outfit then—and, by his appearance, probably not the brawn either. Poor guy had neither of those things going for him, yet he was the one who spoke out. “We’d prefer to be left alone, thanks. If we want anything, we’ll come up to the bar.”
Matthew stood as abruptly as possible without making the stool fall over. It had the desired effect. All three men flinched away from him. He bit back a smirk. “No problem at all.” He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “I’ll just let you get back to planning to follow my brother and I down to the Stoney Middleton caves on the full moon then, shall I?”
He waited just long enough to see their faces register what he’d said—their eyes widened, jaws dropped open—then turned on his heel and headed back behind the bar to get on with his job. There were other customers to serve. He’d made his point, let them know he was on to them, and they also had to know he’d be keeping a close watch on them while they were there. And he did just that—from the corner of his eye when he was busy, and direct glances when he had a breather. Now he just had to talk to them alone—it was not a conversation to be had in the Miners, where anyone could listen—and persuade them they were wrong about him and his brother and that their idea was insane. Not to mention bloody dangerous.
Figuring he couldn’t do any more for the time being, Matthew tried to put the situation out of his mind, instead throwing himself into friendly conversations with the other patrons, a heated discussion on politics with Gordon, and fending off the flirtatious attentions of Lisa, the girl who helped the chef out in the kitchen when they were really busy. He didn’t take it personally—Lisa flirted with every male regardless of age or marital status. He just wished the women who flirted with him weren’t so damn young. Not that it would make a difference if they were older, but it made him feel ancient. Which, he supposed, was exactly what he was, despite looking as though he was in his forties and in very good shape.
He snaffled a free meal from the chef after a while, eating it happily and gratefully as it meant he didn’t have to cook when he got home. The rest of his shift went quickly, and he didn’t know whether to be delighted or disappointed that the three men in the corner had ceased their conversation about him and his brother when he’d sort of confronted them about it. He didn’t know if they’d realised he could hear them or if they just didn’t want to risk it, knowing he was on to them. It was nice not to have to hear them talk about him and Isaac as though they were animals, but it was unfortunate that he couldn’t glean any more information from them. Still, once he got one or all of them alone for a little chat, he was pretty sure he could get them to talk. He’d never hurt anyone, but they didn’t know that. A little gentle threatening could go a long way when people knew you turned into a huge wolf once a month.
Chuckling to himself as he called goodbye to his boss and colleagues and headed out the door, he decided he would go and talk to the men tomorrow. They’d long since departed the pub, and he wasn’t about to knock on their doors at this time of night. They might be morons, but he didn’t want to scare the living daylights out of them or their families and end up having the police called. Being an ex-policeman didn’t make him immune to a caution or even an arrest.
No, it could wait until morning, but that was it. Nathaniel’s garden was pretty much done, so he’d head over there a little later the next day. Not that the other man would mind if he didn’t turn up at all for one day—he’d made it clear he knew Matthew had other stuff going on, so whenever he could do bits and pieces was fine. Being the sort of man who liked getting things done, though, Matthew would prefer to finish the job then move on, rather than having it hang over his head for ages. But this was important, so a few hours was long enough to wait, especially since he wanted this all done and dusted by the time Isaac arrived home from London. That wasn’t until the day after tomorrow, so he had time.
As he stepped through the front door, tiredness suddenly hit him. He was supernatural, yes, but that didn’t mean he had boundless energy, and he’d had a long and busy few days with some stressful stuff going on. It had clearly got on top of him. So after a quick shower, he set his alarm for the following morning and went to bed, pulling the covers up tight to his chin and falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The following morning, he felt rested, so he got up straight away when his alarm screeched at him, consumed a bowl of cereal and a strong coffee, then got washed and dressed and headed out. A minute or so later, he reached his first and possibly only destination. He suspected Tom Dunwell was the ringleader of the little group of crazy folk, so he’d put his house top of the list. Plus, it was the nearest, which made things easier. He could get there nice and early and catch Tom before he went to work.
Knocking on the door, Matthew took a deep breath, determined to be as nice as possible, and stay calm. The man hadn’t done anything wrong or stupid yet, so he should try to keep things civil if possible.
After a pause, the door opened slowly and Tom’s wife, Margaret, sleepily peered out. “Hmm?” Then she seemed to realise just what was going on and snapped to attention. “Oh, sorry, Matthew. I’m still half asleep here. You all right?”
Smiling kindly, he said, “I’m sorry if I woke you, Margaret. I’m looking for Tom. Is he around? I know it’s early, but I need to catch him before he goes to work.”
Frowning, she opened the door wider to let him in. “He’s in the shower at the moment. Is everything all right? Anything I can help you with?”
She clearly had absolutely no idea what her husband was planning, and Matthew wasn’t about to enlighten her. It wasn’t his place. He stepped inside and walked through to the kitchen, before taking the seat Margaret indicated at the table. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Really. I just need to talk to him q
uickly, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Go back to bed if you want. I’ll wait here if that’s all right.”
Still looking a little dazed, Margaret nodded slowly and stepped towards the stairs. “I’ll go and give him a knock, let him know you’re here. That should hurry him up a bit.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She climbed the stairs, and he heard her knock on the bathroom door, then, after a pause, “Tom? Matthew Adams is here. He wants to talk to you—won’t say what it’s about. What on earth does he want?”
He couldn’t hear the reply, unfortunately, as it was muffled by the door, but Matthew still smirked. One side of the conversation was enough. By turning up, he’d tipped Margaret off that something was going on, and she probably wouldn’t let it rest until her husband had told her. She was a sensible woman—perhaps she’d be able to talk him out of it.
After a second, he heard a door open, and Tom whispered to his wife, “Go tell him I’m just going to get dressed, would you, please? I’ll be as quick as I can. And get the kettle on.” That last was said in a less hasty, irritated tone, as the man seemed to catch on that he shouldn’t be taking his confusion and annoyance out on his clueless wife.
“Okay. I’ll make you a coffee. But you’re gonna tell me what this is about when he’s gone, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man’s voice grew quieter as he stepped further away from his wife, probably into the bedroom. “Of course.” A door closed.
Footsteps came back down the stairs, and Margaret rejoined Matthew in the kitchen, looking a tad more awake but no less confused. She smiled. “Can I get you a drink, Matthew?”
“Only if you’re making one.”
“I am. I’m in desperate need of coffee, for one, and Tom wants one, too. So it’s no trouble.” If he wasn’t mistaken, she blushed a little under his attention.
Ha. And people always say my brother is the charming one.
“Okay then, that would be wonderful, thank you. A coffee, please—one sugar and a splash of milk.”
“Coming right up.”
They fell into a comfortable silence as the woman filled the kettle and switched it on, then pulled out three mugs and put the relevant consumables into them before grabbing the milk from the fridge. Seconds later, the potent smell of instant coffee filtered through the air and up Matthew’s nostrils. Oh yes, a second dose of caffeine would certainly not go amiss.
A few thumps from upstairs and the opening and closing of a door told Matthew that Tom was on his way down. Heavier footsteps clumped down the stairs this time, and a very affronted-looking Tom moved into the kitchen.
“Morning, Tom,” Matthew said, his false cheer for Margaret’s benefit. He didn’t want her to feel threatened by his presence. It was Tom who had pissed him off, not her. “I’m so sorry to drop in on you this early, but I wanted to catch you before you went to work. Can you spare me a few minutes?”
Shooting a pointed look at his wife, Tom shuffled over to the worktop and picked up the coffee mug with his name on it. Margaret handed Matthew’s to him with a smile, then took hers back upstairs.
Waiting until his wife was out of sight and earshot, Tom turned to Matthew, his anger very apparent. “What the hell do you want? Coming to my house!”
Raising an eyebrow, Matthew kept his cool, taking a sip of his coffee before replying, “I don’t see why you’re so pissed off at me, Dunwell. You’re the one accusing me and my brother of something we haven’t done, and planning something stupid that is only going to endanger you and prove you wrong.” He paused and took another sip of coffee, more in an attempt to slow himself down and keep calm than anything. “I should just let you do it, really, let you three idiots come to the caves and see what happens. If you get hurt, it’s your own fault. But, you see, I can’t do that. Because my brother and I don’t hurt sheep, never mind people, and I can’t have you taking the risk of getting caught up in something as we change or when we’ve already changed. We’ve nothing to hide, so don’t get the wrong idea or start jumping to conclusions, but it’s a ridiculous situation to put yourself and your friends in. What exactly have we done to make you doubt us, anyway?”
“W-what do you mean?” The man clutched at his mug of coffee, though it seemed the liquid was too hot for him to drink any just yet.
“The question was simple enough, Dunwell. Come on. I want to know why you doubt Isaac and me. Why you think we killed that sheep.”
“Well,” he blustered, spilling coffee over the side of his mug and onto the linoleum floor. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? It happened during a full moon. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and for it to happen on a full moon is just too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Matthew sighed. “Don’t you see, Tom? You’ve just given the exact reason you shouldn’t doubt us, right there. Nothing like this has ever happened before. That should be enough reason—we’ve lived here for hundreds of years. Before you were born, before your parents and grandparents were born, and we’ve never slaughtered any sheep, or anything else for that matter. So why in God’s name would we start now?”
The other man dropped his gaze to the steaming brown liquid in his hands and muttered, “But it was on a full moon.”
“I’m well aware of that, and I know how it might look, but I assure you, it’s a coincidence. Isaac and I have been changing in the caves for a very, very long time now, and we’ve never strayed out of them until we’ve been back in human form. We can’t, actually, as we can’t fit out of the small spaces, which is why it’s so perfect. Once we’re in, we can’t get out until we’re human again.” Tom looked surprised, and Matthew felt a sense of triumph. He clearly hadn’t known that. “So, do you still think it was us?”
Shifting from foot to foot, Tom finally managed to make eye contact with Matthew. Sulkily, he said, “Wasn’t my bloody idea. But you know what it’s like—someone suggests something, gets angry, you get caught up in the excitement, and next thing you know—”
“So you’ll call it off? You know it’s stupid, don’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try. Carl and John are pretty determined, though. They’re sure you two slaughtered that sheep.”
“Well, we didn’t. I can go and talk to them, if you’d prefer…”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I’ll go and see them both tonight, see what I can do. I’ll let you know.”
Matthew finished his coffee, then stood and placed the empty mug carefully in the sink. “That would be wonderful, thank you. I’m pleased you’ve seen sense. Please thank Margaret for the coffee. I’ll let myself out.”
Smiling at the other man in an attempt to keep things friendly, even though he could have cheerfully throttled him, Matthew left the house and closed the door softly. Then he turned in the direction of Nathaniel’s house, all set to get the garden finished and ready to plant. A weight had been lifted. He was sure that, despite his protests, Tom had been the one to start the silly plan in motion, so he could be the one to stop it.
And now, when Isaac came home, Matthew could tell him everything was in hand and they no longer had anything to worry about. Fantastic.
Chapter Eleven
After what felt like the longest journey ever, Isaac’s train pulled into St. Pancras station. Most of the passengers jumped up and started pulling their bags from the overhead shelves and luggage racks, putting on their coats and queuing in the narrow aisle to get off. Isaac stayed where he was—St. Pancras was the end of the line, so it wasn’t as if the train could go past his stop if he didn’t get up immediately and join the fray. He was more than happy to wait until some of the people had cleared off before he grabbed his stuff and headed out onto the platform. He’d have crowding and jostling aplenty once he got into the station proper and then into the Underground system—he was in no rush to start fighting for personal space now.
Soon enough, the eager passengers had shoved their way out of the train and were on their merry way through the capital,
so Isaac stood up. He wasn’t the only one who had chosen that tactic—he could see a handful of people dotted through his carriage, including a petite woman who appeared to be struggling to get her bag down from the overhead shelving.
He approached her and gave a friendly smile. “Here, let me help you.”
The woman stood back, smiling demurely as he reached up and grabbed her bag, then handed it to her. A blush stained her cheeks and she met his gaze very briefly. “Thank you so much, that’s very kind of you.”
“Not a problem. Have a good day.” He gave a brief nod, moved back to collect his own luggage, then exited the train. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the insanity that was London. He could handle it—he was big, and strong enough to take a few knocks, as well as rudeness, but he didn’t like it. Probably because he was so used to living, working and socialising in a small village—crowds were not something he encountered very often. And even when he did, they weren’t like this. London crowds were in a league of their own.
When he was ready, he walked along the platform towards the exit barriers. Once there, he inserted his ticket, passed through, and made his way down to the ground floor of the station. After a bit of a trek through the building, passing a multitude of shops, he bought a Tube ticket at one of the self-service machines, then headed into the Underground area. He’d already used his phone to find the quickest and easiest route to his destination, so he ignored the maps he passed, strode to the relevant place and got on the next train that arrived.
Before too long, he emerged onto the London streets and retrieved his phone so he could pull up a map that would get him to the conference hotel. The day had grown dull and a light drizzle permeated the air, but Isaac didn’t mind. He quite liked it—it was cooling and refreshing after the crowded stickiness of the Underground. As he waited for the map to load, he tilted his head back, allowing the droplets to land on his face and neck. He had a waterproof case on his phone so wasn’t concerned about it getting wet.
The Persecution of the Wolves Page 8