Noah gasped. “Can I come with you? I’ll help.”
“Uh, it’s okay, thanks. I can manage. And the sheep might still be there. You don’t want to see that.”
The boy’s eyes widened further. “I want to work in crime scene forensics when I’m older—it’ll be good experience!”
Matthew’s shoulders slumped. He knew when he was defeated. “All right, all right. But I’m really not happy about this. If you end up with nightmares, don’t blame me.”
Noah snorted. “I’m fifteen, Matthew, not five.”
“Come on then. But keep quiet, will you? I’m already looking, listening, and smelling for something out of the ordinary.”
The boy made a zipping motion across his lips and Matthew nodded. Together they walked up Edge Road towards the moor. Matthew tried to forget he had a tag-along, but couldn’t. Despite the fact Noah was closer to being a man than a boy, his presence had sparked a memory long forgotten. A memory that still affected his and his brother’s lives to this day, as well as those of the villagers of Eyam.
Centuries ago, his and Isaac’s true natures had been an absolute secret. No one but them and their parents had known—and their parents had long since departed both the village and the land of the living. It had been hard for them, but a necessary evil. All that had changed one full moon.
The brothers had been heading to the moor to transform when they thought they heard a noise. They stopped and listened, looking around and sniffing to see if they could discover what it was. There was nothing, so they figured it was an animal or a bird, by now scurried or flown away. Continuing on their way, they thought nothing more of it.
As the full moon rose, they stripped and hid their clothes in their usual spot, then headed further onto the moor and waited for nature to take its course. It was then, just as they’d passed the point of no return, that they saw a pale face watching them. A young boy from the village—one who should not have been out on his own, especially at night. But it was far too late to send him away—they were in the process of transforming, more beast than human, and they panicked as they realised their secret could be outed now.
They couldn’t communicate verbally, of course, but when Isaac found a sheltered spot and began herding the boy into it, Matthew jumped in to help. They tried to look as small and unthreatening as possible as they did so—no mean feat, particularly given the discomfort they were in—but as children often are, the boy was fearless. He nestled into the place Isaac had picked out for him and promptly fell asleep. They took turns watching the boy all night—one of them roaming around, seeing off any predators that might have tried to harm him, while the other settled down near to the child.
Come morning, they woke up naked and cold, memories slamming into their heads with force. They dashed towards the crevice where they’d stashed the child, finding him safe and still sleeping peacefully, with not a care in the world. They dressed, then quietly discussed what they were going to do. The previous night, they’d had little choice but to keep the boy with them, being unable in their current state to help him find his way back to the village. But now, in human form, they could return him to his parents, pretending they’d found him on an early morning walk. Unfortunately, the boy had undoubtedly followed them from the village and, despite the darkness, seen them transform. So not only could he tell his parents what he’d seen, he could identify the two of them, too.
Left with no other ideas, they tidied themselves up so they looked less like they’d slept under the stars, then woke the child. They’d return him to his parents, tell the early morning walk story, and hope nobody believed the boy when he spoke out. After all, who would? A child wanders off and comes home with insane tales of men changing into wolves… They’d laugh it off as the wild imagination of an infant and think no more of it. Hopefully the parents would be so relieved to be reunited with their missing child that they wouldn’t ask questions.
Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case. They’d asked the boy where he lived and said little else, hoping he’d think it was a dream. When they took him home, they discovered his name, Joe Braddock, and received effusive thanks from his grateful parents. They left and later discovered that the Braddocks’ front door had barely closed behind them before the boy had blabbed to his parents. At first, they’d ignored him, but the boy had gone on and on about it, pestering his mother and father to the extent they agreed to investigate. Questions were asked, rumours were spread, and finally, someone confronted them.
At a total loss, Matthew and Isaac hadn’t known what to do. It had gone too far, had become too rooted in people’s minds to deny. The villagers had also threatened to have someone follow them everywhere until the truth was uncovered. So they called a meeting with the Braddocks and their boy and explained everything. Little Joe’s eyes had gleamed with excitement and understanding—it was clear that what he’d seen now made sense to him. They left it up to the family to decide what would happen next—the boy’s parents were still incredibly grateful they’d looked after Joe, kept him safe, and in their minds, it made Matthew and Isaac good men, regardless of what they did on a full moon.
Thankfully, the Braddocks had decided to vouch for them, explaining as best they could to the rest of the villagers what Matthew and Isaac were and assuring them they had nothing to fear. David Braddock was an influential man, and the villagers listened to him, particularly when he said the boys had been scaring predators away from their village, their livestock, for years. They were lauded as guardians, safe-keepers of Eyam, especially since they were a lawman and a doctor respectively. How could they possibly be anything other than upstanding citizens?
People had been scared and unsure for a while, wary too, but as things settled down, they were able to get back to normal, trusting the villagers to keep their secret in return for their continued protection of the village—something they’d promised to do until their last breaths.
And then the Black Death arrived and there was chaos once more.
Chapter Thirty
It took some effort for Matthew to pull himself from his memories as they reached the entrance to the moor, especially as a chilly breeze skated along its surface, forcing the scents of nature up his nostrils. Those scents he knew so well and had been enjoying for so many years.
“Okay,” Noah said tentatively, giving a small smile as Matthew turned around, having almost forgotten the boy was there. “Any idea what we should be looking for?”
Matthew sighed heavily. “Sadly not, kid. Isaac or I have been up here every morning after… well, you know what… since all this kicked off and haven’t found a damn thing. I think we’re wasting our time to be perfectly honest, but I guess we’ll never know unless we try.”
Noah shrugged. “Who knows, maybe today will be different. We’ve definitely got to try.”
“Come on then.” Matthew gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s see what we can find.”
Smiling, Noah said, “I never thought you did it, you know. And nor did my parents. I’m sure people will be saying that to you all the time now, but I wanted to anyway, and I mean it.”
“Thank you. That means a lot. Seriously.” He clapped Noah on the back, then turned and headed through the gate onto the moor, his senses already on high alert. Following the path slowly and cautiously, he listened to make sure Noah was following him. He was.
His gaze fixed firmly on the ground, Matthew studied every blade of grass, every speck of soil, every leaf. He was determined that this time, he’d find something to nail the bastard. Or point him in the right direction at least.
“You see anything out of the ordinary, anything that doesn’t feel right, you let me know. Anything at all,” he said, loud enough for Noah to hear.
“Will do,” came the reply.
They fell into silence once more as they followed the path. Matthew’s nose was also fully engaged in the search, though he didn’t expect it would help—it hadn’t so far.
After a
while, they came upon the spot where the sheep had been slaughtered the previous night. The carcass had already been removed, but there was still enough matter left behind to send Matthew’s sense of smell into overdrive. As predicted, all it turned up was the fact there’d been a dead sheep here, but he refused to give up. This had to end. It had already gone on for far too long and was affecting too many people—not just him and his brother. It wasn’t fair and he was determined to put a stop to it.
Dropping to all fours, he scrutinised the area, wishing he had a magnifying glass. He didn’t care how stupid he looked. All he cared about was finding something.
A gasp came from behind him and he spun around, his heart pounding. What had Noah found?
His new vantage point revealed the young boy backing slowly away from him.
“What? What’s up?” he said irritably, then immediately regretted it. The kid was doing him a favour—he shouldn’t be snapping at him.
Noah seemed to be struggling with his words. Finally, he choked some out. “Y-you’re not changing, are you?”
A laugh tumbled from Matthew’s lips before he could stop it. “What? No, of course not! What makes you think that?”
Noah’s gaze flickered across Matthew’s body, then back to his face. The penny dropped. “Ah. Okay, I get it. You think we get onto all fours, then transform. Fair enough. I see where you’re coming from. But no, Noah, I’m not changing. It’s daylight, it’s not a full moon. I am one hundred percent man, and that’s the way it’s going to stay for another four weeks. I may look foolish, but I’m just trying to get closer to the ground, to try to see something—anything. I’m desperate here!”
Noah slowly relaxed as Matthew’s words sank in, then joined him on the ground. Giving a nod of thanks, Matthew returned his attention to his task, like some kind of weird forensic scientist looking for a strand of hair, a thread of clothing.
When he did eventually come across something, it was a whole lot better than that. He heard a strangled sound, which it took him a good few seconds to realise came from him. His heart skipped a beat, then quickly made up for it by pounding like crazy. As he reached out, it felt to him as if his hand was moving in slow motion as he plucked a piece of material from the clutches of a bush.
Drawing it back in towards his body, he sent up a silent prayer. Please let this be the breakthrough we so desperately need. Please.
Noah had heard the strange noise he’d made and come over to investigate. So two pairs of eyes were glued to Matthew’s right hand as he uncurled his fingers to see what exactly it was he’d discovered.
“Huh,” he said. “So someone left here with part of their trousers missing, did they? I’d better check it wasn’t one of the team who was here before I get too excited.”
Noah nodded, looking as excited as Matthew felt.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and stabbed at the buttons until the display showed he was calling Richard.
“Hello?”
“Richard, it’s me, Matthew.”
There was a chuckle. “I know. It said on the caller display. What’s up?”
Ignoring his friend’s first two sentences, he got to the point. “I’m up on the moor and I found something. A piece of cloth that looks as if it’s been torn from some trousers. Can you find out from the guys who were here last night if it’s theirs? I’m trying very hard not to get my hopes up here.”
“It’s not any of theirs. I saw them earlier and they all looked perfectly intact. So you think it’s—”
His heart raced even more. “It’s got to be, hasn’t it? It’s got to be his. Thanks, Richard. I’ll call you later.” He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket, then turned to Noah with a huge grin. “I think we’ve got something here, kid. Richard said none of the guys had ripped trousers, so this has to belong to him. Whoever the fuck he is. Oops, sorry for swearing.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “Seriously? I’ve told you already, I’m fifteen, not five. Never mind that, anyway—get sniffing!”
“What? Oh yeah!” In his excitement at finding the scrap of material, he’d forgotten entirely why it was so important. Having confirmed it didn’t belong to any of the guys who’d been staking out the moor the previous evening, any other scent on it had to belong to the sheep slaughterer.
He cupped his material-filled hand to his nose and inhaled deeply. He scented grass, bushes and plants, as well as sheep flesh and blood, which was hardly surprising given where he’d found the scrap, but there was no overwhelming smell of human. Christ. He tried again, pulled deeper through his nostrils, desperate now.
It didn’t make any sense—why in the hell would someone’s clothes not smell of them? When they’d just come out of a washing machine, yes, but when he’d worn them to walk out of the village, all the way to the moor, traipsed across the land to find a sheep, then killed it? It just wasn’t possible—it should stink of human sweat and his natural scent.
When a third good sniff didn’t produce anything worthwhile, Matthew reluctantly admitted defeat. He’d take the material home and see if Isaac could figure something out, but he thought it was unlikely. Apparently, they’d seriously underestimated their adversary—he’d figured out a way to wear clothes but not have them soak up any identifying scent. Unbelievable.
Trying hard to keep a lid on his frustration, should he scare the crap out of Noah again, Matthew stuffed the scrap into his pocket and turned to leave the moor.
“That’s it?” Noah asked. “You can’t scent anything on the material so you’re going to just give up?”
“Of course I’m not going to give up! There’s nothing more I can do here today. We’ve looked around and this is all we uncovered. I’ll get my brother to check this out later on for a second opinion, but I don’t think he’ll find anything I didn’t.”
“I suppose it’s out of the question to go around knocking on doors and asking if folk have ripped their trousers recently?”
“Unfortunately, yes. If we knocked on the right door, he’d only deny all knowledge, wouldn’t he? All we can do is carefully put the word out there, see if something turns up. If we make too much noise, we’ll tip him off. And the scrap of material wouldn’t be enough evidence to convict him, anyway, so without catching him in the act or getting a confession, it wouldn’t help, not really. The bastard needs to be dealt with by the police when he’s caught, because if I get my hands on him, I’ll end up doing something that will make me just as bad as him. Worse, in fact. He’s never slaughtered a person. Far as we know, anyway.” He suppressed a shudder at the thought.
“You don’t want to bump him off, then drop him into one of the disused mine shafts?”
“Of course I do,” Matthew replied, smiling in spite of himself. “But if he turns me into a killer, then he’s won, hasn’t he? All along I’ve been fighting to prove I haven’t been killing. If I bump him off, it will all have been for nothing. Not to mention I’d end up in prison, and for a werewolf, that would be extremely problematic.”
Nodding slowly, the boy said, “Guess I never thought of it like that. Let’s just hope you’re not the one to find him then. I don’t want to see you go to prison. Or break out on the full moon, leaving carnage behind you.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes. “You make it sound like a book or a film. A story. Fiction.”
“Probably because that’s exactly what it feels like. Werewolves, sheep killers, framing, full moons… It feels just like fiction.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, admit it. If our roles were reversed, wouldn’t you feel the same?”
Raising an eyebrow, Matthew thought for a second and had to concede that the boy was right. “Yes, I think I probably would. When you’re living and breathing all this stuff, it’s normal. But for folks on the outside looking in, especially since nobody’s seen us as wolves, it must be weird. Like it’s not real. Like… fiction.”
Noah smirked. “I’m smarter than I look, you know.”
Ruffling
the kid’s hair, Matthew replied, “You’re gonna ace those GCSEs. Totally ace them. Now come on—let’s get out of here. I’m sick of the sight of this fucking place. And I’m bloody starving.”
They headed off the moor and back towards the village together, stopping when they reached the end of the driveway leading to the youth hostel. “Thanks, mate,” Matthew said, grabbing Noah’s hand and shaking it. “Your support today really meant a lot. And if you could put that super brain of yours to use working out who our sheep slaughterer is, that would be much appreciated.”
“I’m not Sherlock Holmes,” Noah said, flexing his hand with a wince when Matthew released it, “but I’ll do my best. If I think of anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Better be. See you later.”
“See you.”
Matthew watched the boy head up the driveway for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and continued his journey into the village. Next on his list was a meal—he’d done everything he could for now, and he’d never think of any other smart ideas on such an empty stomach. Food was fuel for the brain and the body.
An hour later, Matthew sat back in his chair with a satisfied groan. He’d just stuffed his face with a heaped plateful of fried food, washed it down with a couple more cups of coffee, and he felt tons better. Ready to take on the world. Or Eyam, Derbyshire, anyway.
Time to take the next step. It was a tiny one, sure, but it was better than being stationary. He phoned Richard.
“Me again,” he said when his friend answered. “I just wanted to give you another update and ask for yet another favour.”
“Go for it,” the other man said without hesitation, reminding Matthew for what felt like the millionth time in recent months just what a good man the vicar was.
“The update is that I got nothing from the scrap of material. Nothing whatsoever. I can smell the moor all over it, but no scent of the person wearing the trousers. I have no idea how that’s possible, but it’s true. I’m gonna see if Isaac has any more luck when he gets home, but I’m not holding out much hope.”
The Persecution of the Wolves Page 23