Isaac gave a tight smile. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for, Richard. You’ve got our backs and we’re very grateful. So nobody except for Alex knows about this yet then?”
Shaking his head, Richard replied, “No. I wanted you to be the first to know. Alex only knows because he saw me heading to your place. He stopped me because he said I looked terrible and wanted to make sure I was okay. When I explained, he started to look pretty terrible himself.”
Isaac ran a hand through his hair, puffed out a breath. “He may be on our side for now, but if we don’t figure out what the hell is going on, and soon, we’ll be totally alienated.” A vision of a lynch mob complete with flaming torches and pitchforks flitted through his head, but he thought it better to keep that one to himself.
“You won’t,” Richard replied, putting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You’ll never be totally alienated. You will always have me on your side.”
“That’s as may be, Richard,” Matthew said gruffly, “but unless you can persuade the man upstairs to give us a fucking break, it won’t matter. You know I think the world of you, mate, and I’m grateful to have you as a friend and on our side, but if it’s just us three against the village, they’re going to end up persecuting you, too. They’ll think we’ve brainwashed you or something.”
The vicar shrugged. “It won’t come to that. And let’s have no more talk of persecution, thank you very much. This is just a few misguided idiots jumping to the wrong conclusion about two very good people. Unless being an idiot is catching, everyone else will realise you couldn’t have done it. And wouldn’t have, either. Come on—let’s have a look around, see if we can uncover something that might help.”
There was nothing else to say, so Isaac and Matthew did as their friend said and began searching. Isaac pulled his sleeve away from his face and sniffed the air, hoping to scent something. Since Richard had been the one to find the sheep, any scent that didn’t belong to him, Matthew, or himself was a lead.
Unfortunately, he didn’t come up with anything. The stench of the rotting carcass was too strong, and now he totally got what his brother had meant the previous month when he’d said he couldn’t discern any helpful smells. The pong of death overrode everything else. Shoving that plan out of his mind, he started looking, focusing first on the area directly next to the animal, then moving outwards. He quickly ascertained the creature had been killed where it now lay—it hadn’t been dragged anywhere. The fact it had been a dry couple of days didn’t help—there were no footprints or pawprints to be seen. So all they really had was the fact the animal had either been lured or followed to this particular spot before it was slaughtered. And that gave them precisely…
“Nothing. We’ve got absolutely fucking nothing.” Isaac couldn’t help it—he really began to see red. The unfairness of it all had got to him, and the rising panic threatened to combine with the anger and make him either flip out or run away. Neither of which would help at all.
“Fuck this,” Matthew snapped, turning his back on the sheep. “We won’t find anything here. Whoever is doing this is covering their tracks too well. And whoever is doing it knows who we are, what we are. Once, yes, maybe that was a coincidence. But twice? Nah, there’s something going on here and I’m not going to stop until I get to the bottom of it. I won’t be accused and run out of my home because some arsehole thinks it’s funny to gut defenceless creatures and leave them for someone to find.” Pulling in a deep breath, he softened his expression and turned to the vicar. “Richard, would you mind letting the farmer know, please? I don’t think I can talk to anyone else just now. I can’t be responsible for what I might say.”
With a nod, Richard fished his phone from his pocket and placed the call.
Isaac took his brother’s arm and led him away a little. “You serious?”
“What do you mean?” Matthew’s face had hardened again, and Isaac wondered if he looked as harsh, as angry. As betrayed.
“I mean are you serious about what you just said? That you think someone is trying to frame us for this?”
“Yes, why not? It seems to be the only logical explanation. Come on, brother, you’re the brains of the outfit. Two full moons, two dead sheep. No clues left behind, no evidence of any other werewolves or large predators in the area.” He growled. “If it weren’t for the fact those three morons were down in the caves last night, I’d think it was them. No,” he said immediately, “actually, they haven’t got it in them. And why would they waste their time coming to the caves if they’d already planned to slaughter sheep every full moon? It doesn’t make sense.”
“There’s a lot about this that doesn’t make any sense,” Isaac replied. “If someone is trying to frame us, why would they pull this crap up on the moor? Everyone in the village who knows about us also knows we’ve been changing in the caves for years. It would make more sense to leave an animal corpse outside one of the entrances to the caves.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. “You’re definitely the brains of the outfit. I hadn’t even considered that. I’m so fucking fuming I can’t think straight.”
“Come on.” Isaac draped his arm across his brother’s shoulders and they started walking back towards the car. “Let’s go home, get something proper to eat. Cereal bars aren’t gonna keep us going for long. I’ll do a full fry-up, and once we’ve fuelled up, we’ll get our thinking caps on.” He turned and saw the reverend was finished on the phone. “Richard, you coming? We’re heading home for something to eat and to try to figure this crap out. Want to join us? I’m doing a fry-up.”
The vicar jogged to catch them up. “I’m more than happy to help you figure out what’s going on—you don’t need to bribe me with fried food. But, if you’re offering, I won’t say no.”
The three men exchanged strained smiles.
“What did the farmer say?” Isaac asked.
Richard’s eyes widened. “Well, let’s just say he’s now on the list of furious men for today. He’s coming straight away to get rid of the sheep and he’s wondering how on earth he’s going to be able to afford six-foot electric fences around his fields.”
“Perhaps I should pay for them for him,” Matthew grumbled. “No animal is doing this. It’s someone intelligent—but misinformed, apparently.”
The vicar frowned.
“Sorry, we were talking while you were on the phone. My clever little brother here pointed out that whoever is doing this, although they’re smart enough not to leave evidence, is doing one pretty vital thing that makes no sense. They’re dropping corpses up here rather than down by the caves.”
“Hmm,” Richard said, following them through the gate that led off the moor. “I must admit, I hadn’t thought of that either. But then, until you just said it, I was still thinking it was an animal.”
Matthew unlocked the car and they all climbed in and buckled their seatbelts. “Hold that thought. Let’s get back to ours, get some coffee and greasy grub inside us, and then tackle the hard stuff, all right?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Isaac said. A sense of relief filtered through him—it seemed his brother had become more rational. He was undoubtedly and understandably still angry, but he seemed to have focused that anger on finding out who was responsible rather than ranting and lashing out. That was a much more helpful reaction, and one Isaac could deal with. If they worked together on finding the bastard who was trying to frame them, they’d be more likely to succeed than if Isaac was constantly watching his brother and stopping him from throttling someone.
They rode in silence back to the house. Once there, they jumped out of the vehicle and headed inside. Richard had been in their home often enough that he knew where things were, so he started setting the table in the dining room while Matthew made a start on breakfast and Isaac sorted the coffee.
Within half an hour, all three men were sitting at the table, munching on crispy bacon, sausages, fried eggs, fried bread, black pudding, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, and toast. None of th
em spoke until they were done, instead taking the opportunity to enjoy their food before it got cold.
Richard broke the silence. “Hey, Isaac, aren’t you at work today?”
Chewing on his final piece of toast, Isaac shook his head. He swallowed his mouthful, then replied, “Not today. Just as well really, isn’t it? I should probably start booking the day off after each full moon until we sort this shit out.”
“Hey,” Richard said firmly, pointing a finger at Isaac. “Don’t think like that. We’re gonna get this sorted, and we’re gonna get it sorted fast, all right?”
“I hope you’re right, mate.”
“Okay,” Matthew said loudly, startling the other two. “Let’s carry on. I feel better now. That certainly hit the spot.”
“It did. Thanks, Matthew. Anyway, yes, Richard, what were you saying before?”
The vicar went silent for a second, apparently trying to remember his exact thought process. “Oh. It was after you asked why whoever is doing this isn’t dropping the corpses off outside the caves, and I said I was still thinking it was an animal up until that point.”
“Right,” Isaac replied. “I take it you don’t anymore?”
Richard shook his head. “No, definitely not. The injuries look like an animal did it, but it’s so deliberate now, after two full moons, that it can’t be. Unless there’s another werewolf out there, which you two seem to have ruled out.”
“We have,” Matthew said. “We’ve looked for evidence—out on the moor, on the internet, newspaper articles. It doesn’t mean there aren’t other werewolves out there—close by, even—but if there were, what would their reasons be for doing this? Let’s talk hypothetically. If they didn’t know about us, why would they do it? They’d just be drawing attention to themselves, to the area, and why in the hell would they want that? And if they did know about us, then why would they be trying to frame us? We’ve never known any other werewolves except for our parents, and they also kept themselves to themselves. I don’t see how we can have gained any werewolf enemies.”
“So,” Richard began, fiddling with his empty coffee mug. Isaac took it from him, picked up his and his brother’s mugs as well, and headed to the kitchen to refill them. The other two men waited for him to return before continuing. “Let’s say it isn’t another werewolf. Who is it then? And why?”
“I wish I knew, mate,” Matthew said. “Before the first sheep was found, I wouldn’t have said Isaac or I had any enemies. Isaac especially—everyone loves him.” He glanced at his brother, who pulled a face. “But then those three idiots started mouthing off… Thank God you heard them, Richard. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t warned us. I don’t know if I thanked you for that. If not, then I’m sorry. Thank you. But I really don’t think those three have got it in them. Either to slaughter a sheep in such a brutal way or to frame us for it. And if they had, we come back to the original question—why up on the moor and not down by the caves?”
Chapter Sixteen
“There’s no point going over the whys, is there? Until we find out who’s doing it, we’ll never know why. Let’s concentrate on finding the bastard—or bastards,” Isaac said, putting his coffee mug down with more force than he’d intended. “As part of that, I think we also need to prove Matthew and I aren’t responsible.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” Matthew asked.
“It’s pretty simple, really. Next full moon, Richard and a couple of other guys need to follow us down to the caves and watch us go in. Then they split up and wait outside the Gin entrance and the shaft in Eyam Dale, with tranquiliser darts for their protection. Obviously, we all know we can’t fit out of those exits in wolf form, but I’m covering all bases. I know it’s a big ask, Richard, to sit around from moonrise to moonset, but it’s the only way we can clear our names. And I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important—I’m sorry, but I’m not being persecuted and run out of my home for something I didn’t do.”
Richard smiled gently. “Hey, it’s not a big ask, not at all. You’re my friends, and you’re absolutely right. You shouldn’t be persecuted for something you didn’t do, and if this is the way to get doubters off your backs, then so be it. I’m sure Alex and Kevin will be up for it, and I can drum up support from someone else too, so there are two teams of two, one for each entrance. As well as tranquiliser darts, I’d suggest we take video cameras, too. That way, if someone accuses us of lying on your behalf, we can show them the footage. One hundred percent proof that neither of you left the caves on the full moon. I know it only solves part of the problem, but it’s certainly better than nothing. And who knows? We might have figured it out before then and it won’t be necessary.”
“Thanks, Richard,” Isaac said, smiling back. “I appreciate it, and hope you’re right. I’d love to think that before the next full moon all of this will be over, but sadly we thought that about last night’s and we were wrong. But I’m going to try to think positive, and getting this plan in motion will help. I’ll get the video cameras sorted out. Matthew and I did briefly discuss cameras before, but we were talking about inside the caves, and we discounted it, not wanting to risk the footage getting into the wrong hands. But this way, having cameras outside, it’ll only show us in human form. Plus, I think the risk is worth it, considering what we’re trying to achieve. Matthew, can you take care of the tranquiliser guns and darts?”
“Not a problem. In the meantime, I’m not going to sit idle. I can’t. Richard, do you think we’ve got enough contacts between us to rustle up a couple of scenting dogs to take up to the moor, have another look around? I’m determined to nail this bastard. He’s not ruining my brother’s life or mine, not without a bloody good fight.”
“I can’t see why not,” Richard said, nodding. “I’ll get onto it straight away, before any trails fade or we get any rain. Isaac, are you coming?”
Isaac shook his head. “I can’t face going up there again, mate. You don’t need me anyway. You two and a couple of dogs and their handlers is more than enough. I’m better placed here, I reckon. I’m going to get back online to dig around again. I know I’ve done it all before, but if there’s even the tiniest speck of information I can unearth, it may help. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Will you do the same?”
All three stood, ready to get onto their respective tasks. The vicar had already pulled his mobile from his pocket.
“Absolutely,” Matthew said. “I’ll ring or text you, so make sure you’ve got your phone handy.”
“Will do. Okay, I’ll see you later.” Isaac collected their plates, cutlery, and mugs and dumped them in the dishwasher before heading for the computer. As he switched it on, he mentally crossed his fingers he’d find something this time, or that his brother and Richard would. Their mystery enemy had to slip up at some point. No one could grab and slaughter a sheep without leaving some kind of evidence behind, surely?
Once the computer was booted up, Isaac got started, repeating the process he’d gone through the previous month, but with even more determination. If he discovered so much as a hair out of place, he’d pounce on it.
As he searched, his mind wandered to the person who was doing this, and why. He’d told the other two men it was pointless to wonder why, as they’d never find out until they found the perpetrator, which was true, but he couldn’t stop himself. They had no enemies they knew of, and nobody in the know about their secret had any reason to hate them so much as to want to ruin their lives, to expose them.
The last thought sent his mind whirring again. It wasn’t about exposure—it couldn’t be. If it was, the person in question could just get evidence of Matthew and Isaac changing, whether it was a photograph or a video, and he or she could release it. The power and availability of the internet would make that incredibly easy. A quick post to social media and their supernatural status could go viral within seconds—all over the world, too. If that happened, they’d have a hell of a lot more to worry about than having to leave
the village.
No, whoever it was planned to ruin their lives in a different way. A smaller way, but one much more personal, more vindictive. They were trying to turn the villagers against them, to truly hurt them by taking away their friends and the home they loved so much.
Now the idea was in Isaac’s head, he continued working on it in his mind while his hands tapped at the computer keyboard. It was personal, it was vindictive. Like revenge. Like someone was trying to get their own back for something Isaac or Matthew had done. And we’re back to enemies again. Thinking hard, Isaac tried to figure out what he or his brother could have done. He was a GP in a tiny village, so it wasn’t as if he could have accidentally killed a patient or failed to save someone on an operating table. He simply didn’t deal with those kinds of situations in his role.
And, as Matthew had said, everyone seemed to like Isaac. He got on with people easily. Some of the most cantankerous old dears in the village insisted on seeing Isaac at the surgery, as they thought he was wonderful. Add that to the fact he hadn’t exchanged so much as a cross word with any of his colleagues or patients, and it seemed to be a bust. Sighing, he wondered about Matthew’s perceived wrongdoings instead.
His brother had been out of the police force for a good long while—since the ‘village bobby’ in Eyam had no longer been a requirement. He hadn’t wanted to join a bigger force, to have to work outside the village or have anyone look too closely at him and realise he wasn’t ageing, so he’d quit. Or retired—however you wanted to look at it. So it couldn’t be a criminal he’d pissed off—not that Eyam had had many of those in any case.
Perhaps it was someone from the pub? Like Isaac, he got on well enough with his colleagues. The clientele was a mixture of villagers and tourists. Isaac immediately ruled out the tourists—other than maybe accidentally spilling a drink or giving someone the wrong change, he didn’t see how his brother could have pissed a tourist off to the extent that they’d want to wreak havoc on him. That and they wouldn’t have a clue what he was in any case.
The Persecution of the Wolves Page 12