“At this stage, mate, I’m not bothered about theories. So what happened next? How did he get away?”
“He’s damn quick, I gather. They tried to grab him, took a couple of shots, but nothing. He managed to get away and ran in the direction of the village. They chased him, but no one could keep up, and because the cars were at the youth hostel, by the time they got to them, they had no idea where he’d gone. He’d probably have got off the road as soon as possible, gone onto the footpaths and away. They went back and packed up, then drove around anyway, to see if there were any vehicles or anything else unusual. But there was nothing. It’s as if he disappeared into thin air. Of course, the likelihood is that he just ran home. He could have been home, his doors locked, and tucked up in bed by the time our guys had gone back to their cars.”
“Fuck!” Matthew shouted, then strode away a few feet and drove his fist into a tree trunk. “Fuck it!”
Giving the vicar an apologetic look, Isaac said, “Sorry. He’s not aiming it at you or any of the guys. You know that. He’s just pissed off. I’m pissed off, disappointed, and any other adjective for not happy that you can think of. I’m just hiding it better. Once he’s calmed down, I’ll try to get him focused on the positives. For now, I’m going to let him get on with it. I don’t much fancy getting between him and that tree. He packs quite a punch, especially when he’s angry.”
Richard flicked a worried glance at Matthew. “If you think he packs a punch, then I’m steering well clear. And don’t worry, I get it. I’m disappointed, too. We all are. We want this to be over as much as you do.”
The assembled group nodded and murmured words of agreement.
“I guess we’d better get packed up and send everyone off to work. Once I’ve done my parish work for the day, I’ll make a start on what we’re going to do next month. Because, lads,” he raised his voice and looked at Matthew, “next month, we’re going to catch the bastard. I’m sure of it.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. His friend never swore, not even under duress. Apparently, he was more passionate about this cause than he’d ever been about anything before. That or he spent a lot of time swearing in private.
“Thanks, mate.” He clapped the vicar on the shoulder. “Thanks to all of you. You know what this means to us. I’ll take the cameras and get the footage sorted. I’ll make sure you get the files. Then, Richard, if it’s all right with you, it’d be great if you could show it to anyone who wants to see it. Not exactly the sort of thing we can put online, is it?” He gave a wry smile.
“Absolutely—do what you’ve got to do. At least we can draw a line under part of this sorry mess.”
“Great, thanks. Need a hand with anything else?”
Richard shook his head. “Nah, we’re good, thanks.”
“If you’re sure. I’d better get a move on—I have work today. There are only so many post-full moon days off I can get away with before somebody notices.”
“I’m sure. Go, and I’ll catch you later.”
“Perhaps it’s a good job I’m at work. I need to earn all the money I can to pay for all the pints I owe you lot!” He gave a smile and a nod to each man in the group, then turned away and headed for Matthew, hoping he could snap his brother out of his funk without ending up being punched. “Hey, Matthew,” he said gently, standing a couple of feet away from the tree his brother had been taking his frustration out on. “I’m gonna grab the cameras, then head home. I’ve gotta eat, then shower and get ready for work. I’ll sort the videos out later. You coming with me?”
Instead of replying, his brother turned and stalked over to the camera. He switched it off, carefully removed it from the tripod and held it in one hand as he used the other to collapse the stand. He strode over to the group of men and placed the tripod down, nodded, then walked away, showing no signs of slowing or looking back. With a glance at the group and a shrug, Isaac followed him.
He caught up with him just before they crossed the road towards Eyam Dale shaft. Just as well, as he didn’t think his brother was in the mood to converse with the other men and bring them up to speed on what had happened. He’d be more likely to grunt at them, snatch the camera, and walk away. Pre-empting this, he sped up a little so as to be a pace in front of Matthew as they reached the group.
They were curled up in camping chairs and thick sleeping bags on either side of the shaft. “Morning,” Isaac said, “I know you’ve got to get off to work, so I’ll keep this brief. First and most important, thank you for doing this. Second, Richard heard from John. They had an incident.”
The men sat up straighter, their eyes wide.
Isaac continued. “This is the very short version. Someone can fill you in more later. Basically, the person in question managed to slip in between them and gut a sheep, brutally. They heard the commotion and ran over, by which point it was far too late for the sheep. They could tell by the shape, height, and body language that it was a man, but he was dressed all in black and wore a balaclava, so they’ve no idea who it was. He managed to get away from them and ran in the direction of the village. They weren’t able to find him, or any evidence of a vehicle nearby. It looks as though he ran right into the village and was probably at home and in bed by the time they reached their cars at the youth hostel. So…” he took a breath, “we’re only a tiny bit further forward in that regard—we now know it’s a man—which is unfortunate, but we do now have the video footage from the cameras that proves Matthew and I stayed in the caves all night long. So not a total success, but we’re a damn sight better off than we were yesterday.”
“All right,” said Andy, one of the men. “Thanks for letting us know. I’ll pop in and see Richard when I finish work and get all the details. You wanna take the camera now?”
Isaac had barely nodded when Matthew started dismantling the setup. He gave the other man an apologetic look and a shrug. “Sorry,” he mouthed, before taking off after Matthew as he strode back down the slope and onto the side of the road.
He fell into step beside his brother and didn’t even bother trying to talk to him. It would be a waste of time. When Matthew was like this, especially when the situation was so bad, it was best just to let him work it out in his own way. There was nothing Isaac could say or do to make it better.
They walked home in total silence. Isaac opened the door and they strode in. Matthew carefully deposited the two cameras next to the computer, then turned on his heel and stomped into the hallway. “Going for a shower. See you later.”
“See you later.” Huh, seven words he hadn’t been expecting. They weren’t particularly interesting ones, but they indicated his brother’s foul mood was ebbing away, albeit slowly. With any luck, by the time he next saw Matthew, he’d be almost back to normal. He had a feeling he didn’t have a shift at the pub that day, and he hoped for the staff and customers’ sakes that he was right. His brother was in no state to be serving members of the public today. He’d be more likely to pour a pint of beer over someone’s head than let them drink it.
After slotting a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and switching it on, Isaac grabbed a plate, the butter, and a knife. Toast for breakfast would have to do for now. He didn’t have the time or, if he was honest with himself, the stomach for anything else.
By the time the toaster pinged the bread back up, Isaac was ready for it. He smeared butter liberally over both slices and made himself eat them. He didn’t really want to, but he knew he’d regret it in an hour if he’d had nothing except the cereal bar. If the tiny meal could see him through until lunchtime, he’d get something more substantial. He hoped he’d be able to handle it by then, once his mood and emotions had levelled out a bit.
He scrawled a note for Matthew on the pad they kept by the telephone.
Matthew,
If you get chance today, would you mind doing some digging around? Go and speak to the men who were on the moor, find out what you can. Maybe even head up there and see if you can get a scent? If it brings us e
ven a tiny step closer to finding out who’s doing this, then it’s time well spent.
I’ll be home around 6:40, so I will sort out the video footage then. At least we have that. No one in their right mind would argue with video evidence.
See you later,
Isaac
He dropped the pen back into the holder, then tore the sheet of paper off the pad and placed it by the kettle. After his shower, Matthew’s next stop would be coffee, so he’d see the note then and, Isaac hoped, take notice of its contents.
Isaac was pretty confident he would. He might be furious, but he’d also see the sense in what his brother was saying. They were so much closer to catching the bastard than they had been twenty-four hours ago. Not close enough, but each step, each tiny bit of evidence, was progress. Progress that was vital to ending this horrendous stage of their lives and allowing them to get back to normal.
Well, as normal as it ever was when you were a four-hundred-year-old werewolf.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Matthew listened carefully as he left his bedroom and headed for the staircase, to make sure Isaac was gone. An almost deathly silence indicated that he was. He loved his brother dearly, but right now he desperately wanted to be alone. The events of the previous night and this morning had put him into the foulest mood possible, and the last thing he wanted was company, especially Isaac’s. He knew his brother had his best interests at heart and would try to talk him out of the mood, try to explain why all was not lost. But the truth was, Matthew already knew all that. Isaac couldn’t possibly tell him anything about the situation he didn’t already know.
What was more, Matthew was well aware he was being unreasonable. All he could concentrate on was the negative side of what had happened—basically, the bastard targeting them had got away. He’d managed to let go of his guilt, however, that the person doing this was some woman he’d slighted. The witnesses had said there was no question at all—the perpetrator was a man. And as far as he knew, he’d never slighted a man.
Inevitably, as a result, his mind had turned over the information and begun to question whether they were on the right track, but with the wrong brother. They’d already had this conversation and decided it wasn’t a possibility—but what if it was? Rather than Matthew pissing a woman off and causing her to go on this evil rampage, perhaps Isaac had put a potential suitor’s nose out of joint. Given Isaac wasn’t even out, it was unlikely, but not completely impossible. People had to suspect there was something different about Isaac, since he’d never once had a girlfriend—not so much as a casual fling.
Could it be that no one had even considered the good doctor might be gay? Maybe he flirted with his female patients without even knowing it. Or had he unconsciously cast some kind of spell on them to make them think he was flirting, when in actual fact he was just being nice, putting them at ease?
Thoughts whirled relentlessly through Matthew’s mind. Question after question, theory after theory. There was no way he could force his way through all that and make himself focus on the one positive that had come out of last night’s exploits—the video footage. The thing that proved, unequivocally, that he and his brother hadn’t set foot—or paw—out of those caves last night, so couldn’t possibly have slaughtered that sheep. It was undoubtedly a good thing, but until he’d got over his shitty mood—so shitty he was surprised there wasn’t a black storm cloud hovering above his head—it was pointless even trying.
He stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen. He’d put coffee off for too long this morning, which probably wasn’t helping the grumpiness situation. Three things he pretty much always did after a full moon were drink coffee, eat a huge breakfast, and shower—in that order. Granted, that routine had been screwed up royally for the past two months, but it worked for him. He planned to do the remaining things, then maybe head next door and tackle some weeds in Mrs Smithers’ garden. He’d neglected it of late because of what had been happening, but she hadn’t said a word, bless her. And she wouldn’t, either. She knew what was going on, how it was affecting them, and wouldn’t dream of putting something else on Matthew’s already overloaded plate.
It wasn’t exactly vital work, but he needed to do something. Preferably something physical. And given Sally had now finished her holiday, left the village, and gone back to her normal life, heading up the road for an energetic fuck or three was out of the question. More’s the pity.
Slamming his fist down on the worktop, he swore loudly, then again as a piece of paper lifted by the air movement floated to the floor. He glimpsed his brother’s handwriting and bent to pick it up.
Reading the note, he let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a grunt. He put the sheet of paper down, flicked on the kettle, and set about making himself a coffee. The big breakfast could wait, but caffeine could not. He’d down it, then head to the moor and have a look around. Again.
A few minutes later, the front door slammed behind him as he jogged down the drive. He’d decided to leave the car behind. No doubt he’d get some funny looks for running up the long, steep hill, but he wasn’t bothered. He’d wanted to do something physical, and the gradient out of Eyam would definitely be that. Some people could scarcely walk up it, never mind run.
When he reached Hawkhill Road, where the gradient began, he took a couple of deep breaths, preparing himself for the climb. Because, once he’d started, he didn’t want to stop until he reached his destination. In his head, he counted himself down, then went for it. He quickly got into a rhythm and pushed on, stride after stride, slowing only as the road bent sharply to the right, then later, less sharply to the left. After that, it was a fairly straight route to the top.
As he’d expected, he got some strange glances from people in the vehicles that passed him, including some people he knew. He ignored them. If anyone questioned him about it later, he’d claim he was concentrating on his run and blocking everything else out.
As the road straightened, he deliberately maintained the slower speed, paying attention to what was around him. There was a footpath off to the right soon, which was probably the route the attacker had taken after killing the sheep and eluding the group the previous night. It would have taken him along the edge of Hollowbrook Wood for a while, then dropped down through the middle of it to emerge on a lane at the Town End area of the village. Did that mean he lived around there somewhere? It seemed likely, but didn’t help narrow things down a great deal—there were still a fair few properties within a short distance.
Engaging his senses fully, he peered around, listening hard for anything out of the ordinary, and sniffed constantly, hoping to pick something up. It was a long shot, but he was eager for a lead so tried anyway, turning down the path and checking out the area, the trees, gates, fences. If anyone caught him sniffing a tree, he’d probably be committed to the nearest psychiatric facility, but it was a risk he had to take.
He was just turning to head back onto the road when he heard someone coming towards him. His superior hearing meant he had a good while before the person reached him, so he slowed down, attempting to look nonchalant as he walked onto Edge Road. He stopped when he heard a voice.
“Matthew? Hey, Matthew!”
A glance over his shoulder revealed a face he didn’t mind seeing. Noah Jones, Kevin Jones’ son. “Hello, mate,” he said, smiling. “How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks. You?” He frowned, then spoke again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I know you’ve… got a lot going on.”
“Hey,” he replied, his mood lightening. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Unless you’re the one who’s been trying to frame me and Isaac.”
Noah’s eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. “No, no, it’s not me! I swear! I would never…” He stepped back, and Matthew could hear the boy’s heart pounding. Shit, he’d taken the comment seriously.
Holding his hands up in an attempt not to frighten the lad further, he said, “Hey, hey, calm down. I was joking
! I know perfectly well it wasn’t you.”
Noah’s breath came out in one big whoosh. “Oh. Phew. Sorry, I thought you really meant it then.”
“Of course not. So,” he made an attempt to change the subject, “where you headed?”
“The hostel. Got some weekend work there and I left one of my school books behind the other day. I’m going to fetch it.”
“Oh right. Why aren’t you at school now then?”
“I’m studying for my GCSEs this year. We get days off, free periods and stuff for revision.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re telling the truth, Noah. If you’re skiving off, I will tell your dad.”
“I’m not, honest. Mention it to him when you next see him. He’ll back me up.”
“Hmm, okay. I’ll let you get going, then. Good to see you, kid, and best of luck for your exams.” With a nod, he turned, ready to continue his journey.
“Wait. Where are you going?” Noah scurried to his side, his expression one of wide-eyed curiosity.
“The moor. There was another… incident there last night, so I’m going to try to see if there’s any evidence.”
The Persecution of the Wolves Page 22