Camwolf

by JL Merrow

  “I never met Andrew Wilson.” Nick’s heart was racing, and his fists clenched by his sides.

  “No? Are you quite sure about that, Mr. Sewell?” Phillips’s tone was even and conversational, damn him.

  Nick took an involuntary pace forward and only sheer force of will stopped him from advancing on the man. “Yes! I—look, obviously you’ve got no evidence whatsoever linking me to the murder, or you wouldn’t even be here. We’d be down at the police station with you reading me my rights.” Thank God Phillips didn’t seem to have picked up on Nick’s distinct lack of a denial that he’d been the cause of Matthew’s injuries.

  Phillips’s eyes narrowed. He’d stood his ground throughout. “A word of advice, Mr. Sewell. If I were you, I’d make damned sure no other young men around here end up injured. I’ll be watching you, make no mistake on that.”

  Nick’s hackles rose and, when he spoke, his voice was a little too much like a growl for comfort. “Oh? Better be careful. You might see more than you bargained for.”

  A curious expression crossed Phillips’s face as Nick became aware of just how appallingly inappropriate—not to mention dangerous—his behavior was. He’d felt like he was about to change—Christ, had any of it showed in his eyes? His teeth, for God’s sake?

  “I’m sorry,” he managed, forcing a smile. “I don’t know what came over me. Must be the tiredness. It’s been a bit of a strain, these last few days.” He laughed, cringing internally at how false it sounded. “I’m afraid I hardly know what I’m saying.”

  “Indeed, Dr. Sewell. Well, that’s to be expected.”

  Nick stared. Phillips’s manner had completely changed. He’d backed off a good two paces, the overt hostility replaced by a strange kind of watchfulness. “Right. Well, I, ah, thank you for being so understanding. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I think perhaps I need to, ah….”

  “Of course, Dr. Sewell.” Phillips fished in his pocket for something. “Just one final thing. Would you mind taking a look at this?” He stepped forward once more and held out his clenched fist. Nick automatically stretched a palm out for whatever the man was holding.

  A silver necklace—a crucifix on a chain—dropped into his hand. It was warm with the detective inspector’s body heat. Baffled, Nick brought it up to his face for a closer look. “Was this found on the crime scene? I’m afraid I don’t recognize it.”

  Something like disappointment seemed to cross Phillips’s bland features. “Oh, just an idea. Not to worry.” He retrieved the necklace and put it back in his pocket. “Well, I’ll be going. I’m sure you won’t be offended if I say I hope we won’t be meeting again.”

  Bloody relieved, more like. “No, of course not.”

  Phillips moved swiftly to the door—and then turned. “I wonder, Dr. Sewell, do you think we’ll ever find Andrew Wilson’s murderer?”

  Nick froze. “I—I really couldn’t say.” His guilt must have been so bloody obvious that Nick was amazed Phillips didn’t arrest him there and then.

  But Phillips just nodded and left.

  It was only after Nick had stood at the window and watched the man leave college that the significance of the silver necklace penetrated his adrenaline-fogged brain. Nick sagged into a chair, his legs weak and his stomach churning. Christ, what next? Peasants with pitchforks?

  Maybe it’s what you deserve, a voice in his head seemed to say. What right did Nick have to get so outraged at Phillips’s hounding? Phillips thought he’d killed a man. The only thing he was wrong about was the identity of the victim. Phillips disapproved of his relationship with Julian. He was right about that too.

  The best thing Nick could do for Julian was stay well away from him. Else how long would it be before he, too, abused his power over Julian?

  He had to tell Julian, Nick realized. It wasn’t fair just to leave him. Nick would have to go and see him and tell him why.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  THE WALK through town was a blur of faces. Pale faces, dark ones. Young, pretty faces, and old ones lined with bitterness and regret. Stupid faces, intelligent faces, and those that knew what life was really like. Human faces. All of them going about their lives without the slightest notion that there were monsters running around among them. Nick wondered what would happen if he were to change now, to reveal the beast that lurked inside him. He could see them now: running, panicked, their faces twisted in fear. Or would their minds simply refuse to accept the truth of it?

  Nick’s eyes met those of a small child, walking listlessly next to a woman chatting upon a mobile phone. She stared at him—then flung herself upon her mother.

  “Lucy! What on earth are you up to? Come on, sausage, Mummy can’t walk with you wrapped round her legs.”

  Nick hastened past them.

  When he got to the University Arms, Nick opened the gate to the lift, but couldn’t bring himself to enter. Was this where he should be? In a cage? He shook his head. Dangerous animals were put down. Should be shot like dogs, wasn’t that how Markham had put it? Nick felt physically sick at the thought of getting into the lift and bolted for the stairs, running up to the third floor.

  He’d hoped the exercise would clear his head, calm his nerves a little. But even as he stood at the door to suite 321, Nick’s hands clenched convulsively. Could he do this?

  He had to do this.

  He knocked and waited.

  “Ah, Sewell. Come in.” Markham didn’t look particularly overjoyed to see Nick. That was fine. Nick wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here.

  Julian jumped visibly as Nick walked into the hotel room, and pain ripped through Nick at the sight. He must have had time to think things through, to realize Nick was no better than Schräger. Lili sat by his side, one hand resting on his arm. Yes, she knows it too.

  They’d just had lunch, he noted by the plates that lay on a sideboard, waiting for a maid to clear them and throw away the leftovers. Julian was dressed in casual, smart clothes that were obviously new. The pale pink cashmere sweater was presumably an attempt to bring out a bit of color in his face, but it really didn’t have a lot to work with. It, and the gray trousers, fitted him beautifully, though, and Nick’s throat felt tight at the thought of what he was about to say.

  Lili stood. “Hugh, will you take Julian into the bedroom for a moment, please?” Her tone was unwontedly firm, and Markham bristled, but obeyed. Nick found himself wondering just who was the alpha in that relationship as Julian cast him a fleeting look before disappearing with his stepfather. Lili waited until the door had shut behind them before she spoke again. “Dr. Sewell, I hope you won’t be offended by what I’m about to say, but my husband and I think it will be best for Julian if he comes home with us. Perhaps defers his education for a year. We can look after him there, protect him.”

  “Protect him from whom? Me?” Nick asked bitterly.

  Lili’s eyes widened. “Of course not. My—Julian’s father—I believe he wishes Julian to return to Germany with him.”

  “What? His father doesn’t give a damn about him. Why the hell would he want him back after all this time?” The thought of Herrscher suddenly developing some kind of paternal instinct was laughable. “Why did you call him?” he asked abruptly.

  “Why did you?” she countered, holding his gaze until Nick flushed and looked away. “You must not tell my husband,” she added in a low, insistent tone.

  “I don’t give a damn what secrets you want to keep from Markham. But I thought you hated Herrscher.”

  Her face was expressionless. “I don’t think you can fully understand how much I hate him. But I knew that he, at least, would be able to find my son, and to take whatever measures were necessary.”

  Nick felt an unreasonable surge of anger. “We were both wrong. We didn’t need him. Except for the cleanup, perhaps.” Nick felt a certain satisfaction in picturing Herrscher as a glorified dustman. He took a deep breath. “I was the one who killed Schräger.” He paused. Was the rest his to tell? “A
nd Julian helped me.”

  Lili just nodded. “Peter told me. You surprised me. It’s not so easy to kill, is it? To take a life, even with the worst provocation.” Her eyes unfocused and she seemed lost in memory.

  Nick felt a chill tickle his spine. Had she considered murdering Schräger—or even Herrscher—those dark days in Germany, before she’d come up with her escape plan?

  When she looked at him again, her eyes, so like Julian’s, were clear but troubled. “You know what he said to me? ‘The boy shows potential after all.’ You understand what that means?”

  “I need to see him,” Nick said abruptly.

  She nodded. “Then go. Do not be too hard on him, please.”

  Nick barely heard her as he flung open the door to the other room. Julian was sitting by the window, looking out across Parker’s Piece, his long legs tucked up underneath him in the chair. His pale skin seemed almost translucent in the harsh gray light falling upon it.

  Nick turned to his stepfather, who was hovering uneasily by Julian’s chair. “Markham—would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Markham said politely, although his eyes were narrowed. “You’ll be all right, Julian?”

  “Of course,” Julian said softly. Both he and Nick watched Hugh Markham leave and close the door softly behind him.

  “Julian,” Nick began and stopped as the fragile-seeming limbs unfolded themselves gracefully and Julian stood.

  “Are you angry with me?” Julian asked. He looked directly at Nick for a moment, his face a little flushed, before dropping his gaze once more.

  “No.”

  “Doch. You’re angry with me.”

  “I have no reason to be,” Nick said stiffly. “You were a victim in this—”

  “You think I wanted to go with him,” Julian persisted. “You think I still loved him.”

  His chest tight and a hard lump in his throat, Nick stepped forward, hand raised to—what, he didn’t know. “Did you?”

  Julian flinched, but stood his ground. He met Nick’s eyes. “He’s dead.”

  “You don’t have to remind me of that.” Nick almost snarled it. Appalled at the way he was behaving, he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. Nick found himself clutching at his arm with his other hand, as if to prevent it from any further violent impulses. Christ, that was the only real difference between them, wasn’t it? Schräger was dead.

  “Nick—”

  Nick cut him off, the thought of what he might say next almost too painful to bear. “Your mother says you’re leaving Cambridge.”

  “Yes.” It was barely audible.

  For a moment Nick half thought there might have been a note of uncertainty there, but he stamped down on such wishful thinking ruthlessly. “I think that’s a good idea. Goodbye, Julian.” He strode to the door, afraid to stay any longer. The knowledge that this could be the last time he ever saw Julian twisted in his gut like a knife, and he just wanted to get away, as if he could leave the pain behind him.

  Almost against his will, he stopped at the door and turned. He owed Julian this. “I’m sorry,” he said and walked away.

  TIFF KNEW it couldn’t be good news when she saw Dr. Sewell walking through the Porter’s Lodge like a badly reanimated zombie. Men. Couldn’t you trust them to do anything right? She was torn—should she go and comfort Julian or confront a seriously scary-looking Dr. Sewell? For a moment she almost wished Crack hadn’t finally buggered off home to change his socks. He might at least have been good for a second opinion.

  Sod it. Jools had his mum, and Dr. Sewell was here. Hoping she wasn’t making a big mistake, Tiff made her way up to his rooms and knocked on the door. “Dr. Sewell?” she called, because he might be pretending he was out to anyone not directly involved in the Julian thing. She jumped as he flung the door open.

  “Yes?”

  He’d smartened up a bit since earlier, but there was a dead look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Can I come in?” Tiff asked nervously. He nodded once and stepped back to let her in. “Um. Have you been to see Julian?”

  She’d never seen Dr. Sewell look so grim, not even when Julian had been missing. “Yes.” He turned away. “He’s leaving Cambridge.”

  “What do you mean? He didn’t tell me that.” Tiff frowned. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  “His parents are taking him home,” Dr. Sewell said bleakly, slumping down on a chair like a sack of depressed potatoes.

  “Oh” was all Tiff could think of to say. She felt hurt, and betrayed, and horribly selfish for feeling the way she did.

  “He’s better off without me,” Dr. Sewell said, his head in his hands. “He knows it, his mother knows it, and I know it.”

  “Did Julian say that? About him being better off without you?”

  Dr. Sewell gave a bitter laugh. “He seemed happy enough to be leaving me.” He flung himself out of his seat with a violence that made Tiff’s heart pound, and stood leaning on his desk, head down.

  “Um. Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think you’re being, um…” A bit of a git? “…a bit hasty? I mean, when you turned up to see Jools, did he look like he wished you hadn’t?”

  Dr. Sewell didn’t say anything, but his knuckles were standing out white under his skin and his face was twisted up like he was in pain. Tiff wondered if he’d notice if she edged toward the door.

  “I spoke to him, you know,” she carried on hurriedly. “Look, he’s a bit confused, all right? I don’t know what happened when he was, um, away, but he looks a right state.”

  “You want to know what happened?” Dr. Sewell was staring at her now and it was bloody creepy. “You want to know what we’re capable of?” His voice was so soft she had to strain to hear it and then she wished she hadn’t. God, she was talking to a bloke who’d killed someone. But it had been self-defense, right?

  Right?

  If it wasn’t, Tiff decided, she didn’t want to know. “Um. No, thanks.”

  “I shouldn’t be here.” Dr. Sewell turned away and stared out of the window. He sounded like he was talking to himself. “I’m not fit to be here.”

  “That’s rubbish! You’re a great supervisor.” Tiff hesitated, and then put a hand on his shoulder, an uncomfortable chill flickering through her stomach as she wondered if she’d ever get it back. “And those handouts you do for lectures are brilliant. Of course you should be here.”

  He looked up at her then, dead eyes and all. “I killed a man.”

  Tiff tried not to shiver. “You did it for Jools,” she said with a certainty she didn’t feel. “You had to do it, to save him.”

  “You think that’s what Julian thinks? You think that’s what matters?”

  “Of course it is! You saved his life.”

  Dr. Sewell gave a horrible, twisted smile. “I’m a monster.”

  “Bollocks.” Tiff’s hand clapped to her mouth. “I mean, that’s—you’re just different, that’s all. Um. Differently human.” Was she making things worse? “Julian’s like you, and you don’t think he’s a monster, do you?”

  “Julian’s not like me. I’m… more like Schräger. And I think Julian’s realized that now.”

  “You don’t… hit him, do you?” Tiff’s stomach lurched, but Dr. Sewell didn’t seem offended, thank God.

  “No. No, I don’t. I wouldn’t.” He looked away.

  “So you’re not the same as him, are you? Look… I’m not sure Jools knows how he feels right now. But he definitely said he preferred you to Boris the Bastard.” It didn’t sound any more like a declaration of undying love than it had when Julian had said it. Tiff hurried on. “And when I asked him how he’d feel if he never saw you again, he said ‘empty.’ Um. Could you not, you know, stare at me like that?” Tiff took her hand off his shoulder and backed off a pace. She really should have gone to see Jools. She’d made a right pig’s ear of this. Was she even doing the right thing here? Maybe Julian would be better off without Dr. Sewell.

  No
. Jools had been miserable, thinking Dr. Sewell didn’t want him. Tiff pulled herself together. “Look, I’ll talk to him. You just… I’ll talk to him.”

  Heart pounding as she closed the door behind her, Tiff had to fight the urge to run down the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  TIFF JUMPED as, turning out onto Main Court, she almost ran into Dr. Pawlaczek.

  “Hmm. Been to see Nick, have you? I was just on my way there myself. Do I take it from your expression things are not going as smoothly as they ought to be with our two young lovebirds?”

  It was weird hearing her talk about Dr. Sewell like that. Like she was lumping him in with the students or something. Tiff had to collect her thoughts before she could answer. Then she had to stop and think again, because Dr. Pawlaczek didn’t know anything about the whole werewolf business, did she? Not to mention, Dr. Sewell having killed Boris…. God, this was complicated.

  And Dr. Pawlaczek was giving her a very funny look now. “Um, he’s feeling a bit… I think they’ve sort of split up, but I was going to have a word with Jools.” She hesitated, but Dr. Pawlaczek was Dr. Sewell’s best friend, wasn’t she? “He’s got this idea he’s bad for Julian. But it’s stupid. He’s nothing like that ba—Boris.”

  Dr. Pawlaczek tsked. “Still not making sense, eh? You deal with young Julian, and I’ll sort Nick out. Divide and conquer, that’s what I always say.”

  Tiff wasn’t sure that was entirely appropriate, seeing as how they were supposed to be getting them back together, but she nodded anyway and set off for her room. She needed a coffee before she did anything else.

  Preferably with a large shot of Russian, and sod how early it was in the day.

  TIFF MADE do with the caffeine in the end, plus a couple of chocolate Hobnobs as she had a feeling she was going to need the energy. She brushed her hair, briefly considered makeup as a sort of defense against Jools’s scarily well-groomed mother, then gave it up as a waste of time and headed out toward the college gate.