The Persecution of the Wolves

by Lucy Felthouse

  There was an old mine shaft that opened up in Eyam Dale. He made for it. He had no intention of attempting to get out of it—it would be impossible in any case, even more difficult than trying to get out of the Gin entrance in his wolf form. All he wanted was a change of scenery, an excuse to stretch his legs and something to occupy his mind.

  Just then, he got it. A loud scuffle from above, the sound of rocks clattering against one another, against the ground, and some swearing. A man’s voice. Christ, Tom and his gang hadn’t seriously decided to come and check on them after all, had they?

  “Oi, watch it!”

  If he’d been in human form, Matthew would have slapped a palm to his forehead. They had. They fucking well had. Morons. The voice he’d heard belonged to Carl Lamb, and he was certain Tom Dunwell and John Rayne were with him. The real question was, why were they trying to get down the shaft at Eyam Dale rather than going in via the Gin entrance?

  There was no accounting for lunacy, so Matthew did the only thing he could think of—he took off in the opposite direction, moving as quietly as possible. He couldn’t speak, but he could communicate with his brother enough to make him understand they had to hide. It was going against what the men were trying to prove, of course, that he and Isaac were in the caves, but he couldn’t risk anything happening. An injured or dead man—much less three of them—would be a hundred times worse than a dead sheep. A million times.

  Reaching the cavern where he’d left his brother, Matthew saw he was still there. He padded straight over to him and bashed against him, hard. Isaac growled, baring his teeth. Ignoring that, Matthew butted his brother again and again, trying to make him understand he had to move, had to get out of sight. If the humans couldn’t find them, they couldn’t wind them up.

  Isaac stood his ground, still making the aggressive noise deep in his throat.

  Christ, Matthew thought, what the fuck am I going to do? He couldn’t leave Isaac where he was, with three moronic humans on their way down. All hell could break loose.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fortunately, they were saved by those very moronic humans, as they were far from quiet. They must have been struggling to get down the mine shaft, as there was lots of clattering, some more swearing, and a bunch of shouting.

  Isaac froze, snapped his head in the direction of the noise, and his hackles went up. Thank God, Matthew thought, they’ve announced their presence so I don’t have to. As he turned back to Matthew, a look of understanding seemed to appear in Isaac’s wolfy eyes, and he bowed his head. Then he loped off into the darkness—mercifully, in the opposite direction to the three men—and didn’t come back. Matthew could only draw the conclusion he’d gone to hide.

  Heading in the same direction, he looked for a space big enough for him to fit into. The downside, of course, was that if he could fit, then Tom, Carl, and John could, too. Easily. His wolf was bigger than them—much bigger. Fuck. If he could just keep quiet and hope they assumed he and Isaac weren’t there, with any luck, they’d leave before things got messy.

  After a few seconds, he found an offshoot of the cavern he could squeeze through, and because he had to scoot through on his belly, he hoped that would discourage the men from attempting it—maybe they wouldn’t want to get wet through and filthy. If he’d had fingers at that particular moment, he’d have crossed them. Now all they had to do was hang around and wait and see what happened.

  The sounds of the three men grew louder. They’d stopped all the swearing and shouting, probably not wanting to alert the brothers to their presence, but it was way too late for that. Matthew stood in the darkness, hardly daring to breathe or move a muscle, and he could only assume his brother was doing the same somewhere close by. Those men were damn lucky he and Isaac weren’t just feral, mindless killing machines when they were in this form—otherwise, they’d be toast. Or meat, to be more exact. As long as they weren’t threatened or engaged in any violence, everything would be fine.

  It sounded as though they were entering the Oyster chamber, the shuffling of feet and whispering really close now—though they might as well not have bothered with the whispering. With Matthew’s enhanced hearing, they could have been speaking directly into his pointed ears.

  Christ, they’re idiots. If I thought no one would miss them, I’d rip their throats out to silence them, then munch on them until there was nothing left but bones.

  He mentally scolded himself. It wouldn’t do to think that way—he had to try to see both sides of the story. They were clearly worried about the wolves and the sheep, and they only had the brothers’ word that it hadn’t been them. It was just a shame they hadn’t considered the fact that since they hadn’t ever done it before, there was no reason for them to start now. Now they were stuck in the darkness with two angry wolves who hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. And they had the most to lose, too. If the whole village turned against them, or if there was a fight in the caves, they’d have to run, immediately, and never come back. Not until they’d faded out of living memory.

  Matthew’s hackles went up. He didn’t want to leave Eyam, and he knew his brother didn’t either. They absolutely could not let the men know they were there, could not let the situation escalate.

  Come on, Matthew. Think of your life here, how happy you’ve been. And think how disappointed Mrs Smithers would be if you hurt one of these men. They can’t help it—they’re just scared. And stupid.

  As if to emphasise the part about being scared, a pungent whiff hit Matthew’s nostrils. Fear. The three of them really were on the verge of wetting themselves. They wouldn’t be down here much longer, Matthew was sure of it. Their nerves had held out this far, but when they couldn’t find Matthew or Isaac, they’d be eager to get back outside. The caverns and tunnels were creepy enough in the daytime and if you knew where you were going. At night time… well, it was easy to figure out why the stench of fear was so strong.

  Matthew sucked it in again and again, using it to remind himself why he had to stay hidden, why he could not engage with the men. They’d go away soon, leave him and Isaac in peace. And then, come morning, they’d realise their mistake—that the slaughtered animal had not been their doing.

  “They’re not here, are they?” one of the men said. It was difficult to tell which, as he was still whispering, but Matthew’s money was on Carl. He was the dumbest of the three.

  “Well done, Captain Obvious,” came the reply. That was Tom. He’d obviously decided it was no longer necessary to keep quiet. “Damn. They must have suspected we’d come down here anyway and gone somewhere else. Up on the moor again, perhaps.”

  “Hmm,” John said. “We’ve driven them up there, we have. So if something happens again this month, we’re partly responsible.”

  “Nonsense,” Tom replied. “We weren’t the ones who slaughtered that sheep the first time, and it won’t be us the second time. It’s them beasts. They claim they know what they’re doing when they’re in their wolf skin, when it’s the full moon, but I’m not having any of it. They just say that to keep us all calm, I reckon.”

  “Ahh, come on,” Carl said on a sigh. “Let’s go. They’re not here—there’s no sense hanging about in the cold and the damp. I’d rather be at home in me bed. We tried, didn’t we? They can’t prove they were here and nor can we. I just hope they’re not up on the moor causing another ruckus.”

  It took every ounce of Matthew’s self-control not to claw his way out of his hiding place, and he was sure his brother felt the same. Those fuckers had made their decision—they were absolutely convinced it was them, they just wanted more evidence so they could truly point the finger, show the rest of Eyam what evil, dangerous creatures they were. They couldn’t see that they were the dangerous ones—causing trouble where there shouldn’t be any, spreading lies, casting doubt into people’s minds.

  At least in the morning they’d have their proof. Yes, they turned into wolves once a month, but in reality, they were no more animals than anyone else.<
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  The three sets of footsteps retreated—it seemed they were exiting via the Gin entrance. Matthew shook his head—they hadn’t an ounce of logic between them, those three. He’d like to bang their damn skulls together, see if that knocked any sense into them.

  He waited until he heard all three men clamber out of the exit at the base of the cliffs, then waited some more. He wanted to be absolutely sure they were gone. They could be tricking him and his brother into thinking they’d left. He doubted it—they didn’t have enough brain cells between them to come up with that—but he didn’t want to take the risk.

  Finally, deciding it was safe to come out, he squeezed under the wall of rock and back into the main chamber, hoping his brother would reappear too, as he didn’t know where to look for him. He could end up scouring every inch of the caves—it would take all night.

  He didn’t have to worry. Likely having heard Matthew emerge, Isaac appeared from the darkness at the other side of the cave from where Matthew had hidden. They looked at each other for a few seconds, silently conveying their relief at what had happened—or what hadn’t happened. They’d have to wait until the moon set, because then they could change back and discuss it, but it was obvious to Matthew they were on the same page. The three men were arseholes, but they didn’t deserve to have two enormous wolves pounce on them.

  Matthew flopped down onto the driest bit of ground he could find, put his head on his giant paws and attempted to sleep. It didn’t often come to him, but perhaps after all the drama, it would. Isaac followed suit.

  *****

  The cold woke him in the end. Gasping, Matthew sat up abruptly and clutched his hands to his body, his brain catching up seconds later and telling him he had hands instead of paws. Fuck, he was freezing! Without fur to cover his skin, lying on the stone was torture. A human would already have succumbed to hypothermia. Immediately, he crossed the cavern and retrieved their backpack. He quickly opened it, pulled out the sacks holding their clothes and tossed the relevant one at his brother, who was still curled up on the floor close by.

  Not even looking to see if Isaac had reacted, Matthew dressed hurriedly. He felt a little better now, but it would take a while to work the chill out of his body. He retrieved a cereal bar from the bag, ate it, then grabbed another, ready to hand to his brother when he was fully dressed.

  A glance across revealed he almost was. The bag landing on him must have woken him up, as he was just lacing his boots. Once he was done, Matthew spoke.

  “Hey, Isaac. Here you go.” He tossed the bar to his brother, who caught it neatly, immediately tore open the packaging and devoured the contents.

  “Thanks, brother, I needed that,” he said, stuffing the empty wrapper into his pocket. “Okay, shall we go? I want to get moving, get warmed up. We can talk about what happened on the way.”

  “Yes, me too. I wish flasks would keep hot drinks warm all night. Granted, we don’t normally fall asleep down here, but I’d kill for a cup of tea right now.”

  “Seconded. Let’s go.”

  “All right.”

  As Matthew scooped up the laundry sacks and returned them to the backpack, Isaac turned and headed for the Gin entrance once more. He did the twisting, turning, ducking and crawling in reverse until he could stand. Having caught up, then followed close behind, Matthew saw his brother pause and listen for any signs of life, then climb carefully onto the ledge to look around. Apparently, the coast was clear, as he scrambled up to ground level.

  After a moment, Matthew joined him, once more brushing off all the crap that had accumulated on his hair and clothes from the tight squeeze out of the caves. They paused, allowing their eyes to get used to the bright daylight before they emerged from the trees and headed back up into Eyam. The sun was slowly warming the air and the ground, and although it was weak, they were glad of it.

  It was still early, so they didn’t see anyone until they got to the village square. There they spotted Alexander Kennedy opening the shop. As he headed back out to take in his papers, he saw Matthew and Isaac and walked straight over, his expression grim.

  “Morning, boys. I take it you just got back from the caves?”

  “Morning, Alex,” both of them said, then Matthew added, “Yes. Why, what’s up?”

  “Christ. Oh Christ, I can’t even say it. I think you’d better go straight home. Richard’s waiting for you.”

  The look Matthew and Isaac exchanged told them everything they needed to know—they were on the same wavelength. This was not good, not good at all.

  Clapping Alex on the shoulder, Matthew gave a tight smile. “Okay, thanks for letting us know. We’ll go straight there.”

  They broke into a sprint, not caring who might see them or what they’d think. This was an emergency. When they arrived home, the front gate was already open, and sure enough, the vicar was sitting on their doorstep looking as though all the worries of the world were on his shoulders. He stood immediately when he saw them.

  “Boys,” he said when they all stood face to face, “I’m so sorry. I really am. It’s happened again.”

  “Fuck.” Isaac spun around and marched a few paces across the gravel drive. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t suppose there’s any point whatsoever in saying we were down in the caves?”

  The vicar seemed unfazed by Isaac’s outburst. “Not to me, because I already know that. I’m still on your side and always will be. But it’s going to be a lot harder to convince other people. Those who thought you did it all along will, of course, be jumping for joy because they were ‘right,’ and those who weren’t sure will now see this as evidence against you. One full moon was too much of a coincidence. Two is pretty much proof in many people’s eyes.”

  Matthew’s heart sank, and so many emotions flooded through him he could hardly process them. Anger, disappointment, confusion. Fear. Was this the end for them?

  “For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous. Those idiots Tom, Carl, and John came down to the caves last night, and we hid. We damn well hid, rather than taking the risk of something happening! God, what fucking idiots we were! We should have taken the risk, shouldn’t we? Showed ourselves to them and just hoped they didn’t antagonise us. Or howled. That way we’d have had proof—actual proof, rather than just mine and Isaac’s word—that we were down in the caves. Once they’d seen the size of us, they’d have known damn well there’s no way we could get out. Not out of the Gin entrance, and not out of the shaft in Eyam Dale.”

  He turned and punched the front wall of the house. He was strong; not strong enough to do any damage to the brick, but the bloom of pain across his fingers and knuckles made him feel marginally better. “God fucking damn it!” He couldn’t help it—the maelstrom of emotions was overtaking him and he didn’t know what else to do, what else to say. Now the feeling of hopelessness was added to the mix, and it tipped him over the edge.

  With a sigh, Matthew retrieved the house keys from the backpack. He let himself in, dropped the bag in the hallway, then picked up his car keys from the rack, ignoring Isaac and Richard’s queries as to what he was doing.

  He slammed the door behind him, then stomped over to his car and got in. He started the engine, then pushed the accelerator hard, forcing the rev counter dangerously over the red line. “I’m going up there. You coming or what?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gritting his teeth, Isaac headed for his brother’s car, the vicar following close behind. He’d have to tread carefully here, to make sure Matthew didn’t completely blow his top—he wouldn’t put it past him to march around to the houses of Tom, Carl, and John and knock their heads together. Or worse. He totally understood his brother’s anger—shared it, too—but the last thing they needed was to give the villagers another reason to distrust them. Dishing out violence would definitely do that.

  He got in the car and immediately secured his seatbelt. Matthew’s driving could be erratic at the best of times, never mind when he was furious. He glanced into the back of the veh
icle, glad to see the vicar had fastened his belt, too. He’d barely faced the front when the car lurched forward and rumbled off the drive. They turned sharply left and then left again, up the hill and out of Eyam.

  “Matthew,” Isaac said as calmly and reasonably as possible, “do you think you could slow down a little? It will take a damn sight more than a car crash to kill me, but Richard here doesn’t have that luxury.”

  After a beat, Matthew eased off the accelerator pedal, and he threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder at the vicar. “Sorry, Richard. I’m just so pissed off—why the hell is this happening?”

  Nobody answered—because who the hell knew? Outside, grey clouds loomed ominously overhead, matching the mood in the car perfectly. Isaac just hoped they didn’t decide to start letting loose their load until they’d checked out the scene on the moor. Rain would mar any evidence they might find.

  Nobody spoke until they’d found the sheep carcass. Isaac hadn’t seen the last one, but he suspected it had looked pretty much the same. And the smell. He was glad he was wearing a long-sleeved top, so he could pull the sleeve over his hand and clamp it across his nose and mouth. A glance to either side told him his brother and the clergyman had taken similar action. They moved their hands away only when they needed to speak.

  “Who found it this time?” Matthew asked, spinning to face Richard, the look in his eyes feral. Isaac found himself glad he was in the middle of them—if Matthew lost it, he could protect his friend.

  “Um, me,” Richard said. “I, uh, I’ve been worried about this since last month, so I came up here first thing. I’d hoped and prayed I wouldn’t find anything, but unfortunately… I’m so sorry, boys. I just don’t know what else to say.”