High Moor 2: Moonstruck

by Graeme Reynolds

  ***

  12th December 2008. Secure Storage Unit, Newcastle on Tyne. 19.00.

  Marie glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Connie’s eyes shining out from the shadows. She typed a six digit number into the keypad beside the heavy shuttered door. The keypad chirped as she entered the final digit, while the red light above the keys turned green. She reached down and pulled the shutters up to her waist, then ducked inside. She struggled to find the light switch in the darkness, feeling a momentary sense of panic as her hand groped the cinderblock wall. She still was not used to the loss of her night vision. Before, it would have been a simple matter to bring her wolf up to the surface of her mind so that her senses were enhanced. Now, she felt as if she’d gone blind and deaf. Steven Wilkinson hadn’t just come close to killing her. He’d maimed her. Taken away a part of herself. A part that she’d come to depend on more than she’d realised.

  Her hand found a cold metal tube on the wall, and she traced it down until she found the light switch at its end. Two banks of fluorescent tubes flickered into life, flashing a cold, lifeless light across the storage unit. Feeling much happier now that she could see, Marie pulled the shutters closed behind her.

  The storage unit was piled high with heavy duty cardboard boxes, the detritus of her mother’s life. When she’d gone into the home, Marie had stored her things here, hoping that one day she would recover and be able to live on her own again. That hadn’t happened. Joan Williams had wasted away in the care home, not responding to anyone, or anything. The few times that Marie had managed to visit, her mother had not even registered her presence. The old woman, with the stench of death about her, had stared out of the window, where the care assistants had left her that morning. She’d been like that since her father had died. Well, since Marie had killed him, anyway. The doctors said it was a heart attack, but Marie had been the cause of her father’s fatal cardiac arrest, and to this day she felt no guilt about it, save for what it had done to her mother. The bastard had it coming.

  This would be the last time that Marie came here. She supposed that the police would find out about it, sooner or later. Even if they didn’t, Michael knew that the storage unit existed, if not the exact location. It would be too dangerous to ever return. In many respects, she was taking a hell of a risk by being here now, but it was not like she had a choice.

  She tore open one of the boxes and retrieved a large leather satchel from within. Her escape kit − a completely new identity: passport, driver’s license and credit cards, all in the name of Suzy Neale, along with around twenty thousand in cash, split evenly between US dollars, pounds and euros. While she used fake identities as a matter of course when on missions for the pack, this one was something that she’d set up herself, just in case she ever had to disappear. She’d never intended to leave the pack or do anything to betray their trust. They’d taken her in when she was a lost soul in her teens, wandering around Europe in search of other werewolves. The pack had saved her from the moonstruck that she’d blundered upon. They’d given her a home, reunited her with her brother and had become the family she’d always yearned for. The pack was home, and that was another thing that Steven Wilkinson had taken from her. She could never go back. Not now that she was human. Michael would argue with the others, demanding that her life be spared, perhaps even jeopardizing his own in the process. There was no hope for John, either. Oskar’s team were as efficient a group of killers as she’d ever met, and that meant that he would already be dead. Cut down in a hail of silver bullets while chained up in a prison van. She had no−one else to turn to. She was alone again, and the surge of emotions almost brought her to her knees.

  She slapped herself across the face. “Sort it out, you silly bitch. This is no time to be feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got what you came for, now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  She held her breath for a moment, then, as she turned to leave, something caught her eye in the open box. She reached in and took out a faded Polaroid photograph. Five children, jostling each other, with innocent, happy smiles spread across their faces. David stood in the middle of the picture, his arms folded and a serious look on his face that never reached his bright eyes. Michael was pulling a face, while John had his arm up behind her brother’s head, making a pair of antennae with his fingers. She was squeezed in between John and Michael with a huge grin on her face, and a gap where one of her teeth was missing. They’d taken this picture with David’s camera, on the afternoon where she’d officially become part of the gang. The day she’d kicked Malcolm Harrison in the balls. The day that David was torn apart by a moonstruck werewolf, in the woods near their home.

  Shaking away the flood of memories, she dropped the photograph into her bag, opened the shutters and turned out the light. When she brought the steel shutters down again, there was a sense of finality to the loud clang of metal against metal. Slinging the strap of the bag over her shoulder, she hurried back to the car. Newcastle airport was a little over five miles away. With any luck, in a few hours she’d be airborne and far away from the police and the pack.

  She put the bag onto the passenger seat, fastened her seatbelt and started the engine. The radio came to life as the engine caught.

  “The police are still refusing to comment, but unofficial sources have said that there are at least three people confirmed dead, and that John Simpson appears to have escaped from police custody. Police advise the public not to approach Simpson, and to call the police immediately if he is sighted. He is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous.”

  Marie turned the radio off. Could John have gotten away from Oskar? Might he still be alive? She opened the glove compartment and took out an ordinance survey map of the area. If John had escaped, then the chances were that he’d be wounded. The police would expect him to behave like a man, and would end up looking for him in the wrong places. She might not have her wolf anymore, but she’d had years of training. Years of experience hunting moonstruck werewolves. She traced her finger along the lines of the map and made some rough calculations. The moonstruck would try to get back to its territory, so that it could lay low and allow its injuries to heal. It would avoid any built−up areas, so would most likely follow the patches of woodland around to the north west before cutting back south, towards High Moor. It wouldn’t get there before dawn, but it would not be far away when the sun came up, and she had a pretty good idea which route it would take.

  She sighed. It was stupid for her to even consider going after John. Even if he’d gotten away from Oskar’s team, they would not be far behind. It was an unnecessary risk. She should stick to her plan, drive to the airport and not look back.

  Marie’s shoulders slumped. She couldn’t leave. If there was a chance that she could save John, then she had to take it. She’d been alone before, and the thought of it brought a damp sparkle to the corner of her eyes. Tomorrow morning, when the sun rose, she’d intercept John and get them both to safety. Before she did that, though, there were other arrangements that she’d need to put in place. It was going to be a busy night.

  ***

  12th December 2008. Durham Train Station. 20.00.

  Gregorz and Daniel were the first to arrive at the rendezvous point in the far corner of the car park, away from the glare of security lights. The station was on the top of a hill, overlooking Durham city centre, and was relatively quiet at this time of night, with only a couple of taxis parked in the bays. Most of the commuters were safely home, and only occasional groups of young men and women arrived at the station, for a night out in the glittering city below. Sirens still rang out in the night, and the roads beneath seemed to be filled with flashing dots of blue and red light. The moon loomed large overhead, and Gregorz could feel its influence, tugging at a deep, primordial part of him. He held the beast in check. From what he’d heard on the news report, Oskar’s mission had been even less successful than his own. They would have to work out their next moves, and unfortunately they would have
to report the situation to Michael. That was not a conversation that he was looking forward to.

  A pair of knuckles rapped against the passenger window. Daniel raised his eyebrows and lowered the window.

  “My, Connie, I do like your new look.”

  Connie did have a new look. She wore an ill−fitting leather jacket over a dark green top and a short leather miniskirt. The jacket only just hid the blood that stained the green fabric black around the shoulder and neckline. Her hair was dishevelled and she kept scratching at her stomach. “Ye can go suck a leper’s cock in hell, Daniel.”

  Gregorz leaned across. “I take it that you’ve not had a good night. Where’s Marie?”

  Connie’s eyes blazed, and as she ranted, flecks of saliva sprayed from her lips. “Ah wish ah fuckin’ knew, because then ah’d be eating the bitch’s heart.”

  Daniel could barely contain his smirk. “I take it that the girls night out did not go well?”

  “Not if ye call the cunt spearing me through the stomach with half a tree, then running me over in the car an' pissing off with ma clothes a good night. Ah had to kill some little slag in Chester−le−Street for her clothes, or ah’d have been coming here in the nude.”

  Daniel’s attempt at suppressing his amusement failed and he started to chuckle, despite the situation. Gregorz frowned at him, then turned back to Connie. “And why would Marie resort to such drastic measures, Connie? Perhaps something you did? Something you said?”

  “She didn’t change. The moon was up, shining right on her pretty little face, an' fuck all happened, even though she’s been locked in a hotel room for the last month. Ah couldn’t smell any trace of a wolf on her. She smelt human. Like food. And the law’s pretty specific about dealing with humans who know about us.”

  Gregorz snarled. “There could be any number of reasons why Marie didn’t change, Connie. That does not give you the right to attack another member of this pack without provocation, and I’m not sure how Michael is going to take the news that you tried to hunt his little sister. Now get in the car and keep your mouth shut. I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless I ask you to speak.”

  Connie opened the rear passenger side door and flopped into the back seat. She opened to mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and instead lapsed into a sullen silence. Satisfied that he’d made his point, Gregorz turned back to face Daniel. “Have we heard anything from Oskar or the others yet?”

  The German shook his head. “No, but then it is still early. How many bodies did the news say there were?”

  “At least three on the last report, but with the numbers expected to rise.”

  Gregorz considered this for a moment. “The casualties are most likely the guards and driver of the prisoner transport. Those were expected. It may be that the moonstruck is giving them a little more trouble than anticipated, and they’re having to chase it down.”

  Daniel exhaled. “Well, it won’t be like they were the only ones to let a moonstruck get away from them tonight.”

  Connie’s brow wrinkled. “What other moonstruck? Ah thought that… Oh ye bastards. Ye absolute pair of motherfuckers. Ye went after Wilkinson, didn’t ye? Ye went after the bastard that killed ma daughter and ye left me out of it. Worse, ye let the fucker escape.”

  Daniel turned around to face her. “Connie, we…”

  Her lips curled up into a snarl. “Shut it, Daniel. Ah want to hear it from Gregorz. Is that what you did?”

  Gregorz nodded. “We discussed it with Michael and Oskar. If it had been up to me, then I would have let you have him. The timing of the hit was sensitive though, and we weren’t sure that you would have been able to restrain yourself. In the end, the decision was taken out of my hands.”

  Connie’s face turned purple, and she was about to tell her team alpha exactly what she thought, when a set of headlights flashed on the approach road and a white transit van pulled up alongside. Oskar got out of the van and climbed into the car, beside Connie.

  Gregorz looked from Oskar, to the van, then back to the Norwegian. “Troy? Gabriela?”

  Oskar shook his head. “Both dead. The moonstruck was like nothing that I’ve ever seen. Huge, strong and fast. Worse than the creature in Prague. At first, the thing just ran. I’ve never seen a moonstruck run from a fight before, and it took us by surprise. It was past us before we could react. Troy and Gabriela pursued it while I cleared up the scene and headed around to intercept. By the time I got there, it was already too late. The moonstruck had killed them both and the police were already arriving.”

  Gregorz massaged his temples. “So the police have both Troy and Gabriela’s bodies. I’m not sure that this day could get any worse.”

  Connie gave a slight cough. “There was something else, Gregorz. The police showed up at the hotel before we left. They didn’t see Marie, but they got a good fucking look at me. I’m supposed to go into the station on Monday, to answer a few questions.”

  The vein in Gregorz’ temple began to twitch, and the team alpha’s jaw clenched. For a moment he said nothing, then he turned around to face Oskar and Connie. “Things have gone too far. In two decades hunting moonstruck, I’ve never known an operation to go this badly wrong.” He reached into the alcove beneath the car radio and retrieved his telephone. “We need to talk to Michael. We need to let him know what’s happened.”

  Chapter 9

  12th December 2008. Nauchnnyy proyezd, Moscow. 22.03.

  Michael sat alone in the dilapidated office, drumming his fingers on the desk while glaring at the telephone. He barely looked up when Steffan entered the room and took a seat opposite him.

  Steffan pushed a bottle of vodka across the table. “Here, while we wait we may as well have something to take the edge off things.”

  Michael shook his head and pushed the bottle back to his friend. “I need the edge right now. I have to stay sharp. I’ll relax when we hear back from the teams in England. Then we can take care of that bottle of Zyr.”

  Steffan gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and poured two shots anyway. He raised a glass to his alpha, before swallowing the clear liquid. “You worry too much, Mikhail. Two of our best teams are working on the situation. They have done these things many times before. They will take care of the moonstruck and return home with little Marie, yes?”

  In spite of things, Michael could not help but grin. “You know she hates it when you call her that?”

  “Ha, secretly she loves it. There is a little smile in her eyes when I say it, it’s just not easy to notice with all of the anger and indignation that she hides behind.”

  “I’ll take your word for that, but I wish I shared your confidence about the problem in England. I don’t like the reports I’m hearing from over there. This is too public. It should have been a quiet clean up mission, not a fucking media frenzy. We’ve not been at risk like this since 1966.”

  “Mikhail, you are my alpha, and you are also my friend. I tell you, Gregorz will call you as soon as he has any news.” At that moment the telephone chose to ring and Steffan smiled. “You see?”

  Michael looked at the telephone with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He reached across and pressed the loudspeaker button. “Gregorz, I’m here with Steffan. What’s the situation over there?”

  The telephone crackled and there was a pause before Gregorz spoke. “Not good. Troy and Gabriela are dead and Simpson escaped. The police have their bodies, Wilkinson managed to evade us and your sister has run off. Oh yes, and apparently the police have tracked us to the hotel we were using as a base of operations.”

  A wave of nausea bubbled up from Michael’s stomach. “So you’re telling me that you managed to fuck up every single aspect of your respective missions? What the hell happened?”

  Oskar spoke next. His voice seemed different, without his usual arrogant tone. The Norwegian sounded shaken, which was something that Michael wouldn’t have believed possible. “Simpson was too powerful. I’ve never seen a moo
nstruck like that before. He tore through Troy and Gabriela like they were nothing. By the time I arrived to back them up it was all over.”

  “And the Wilkinson hit? How did you manage to screw up killing a crippled, comatose old man?”

  This time, it was Daniel who spoke. “We waited as long as we could for Oskar’s message, but it didn’t arrive. By the time we got there, he’d already changed. He escaped through a window and fled. We gave chase, but by the time we caught up Wilkinson had transformed back to his human form, stole a car and got away.”

  “He turned himself back? So he’s not moonstruck, then?”

  “Gregorz managed to get a shot off before it escaped. The silver may have weakened it enough for Wilkinson to take control. At least, that’s what we think happened.”

  “And what about the police? How in God’s name did they manage to track you down?”

  Connie’s voice crackled through the speaker. “They spotted me at the hospital an' the courthouse. It must have been enough for them to get a description, so that Garner bitch could go round the hotels in the area.”

  “Is there anything back in that hotel that could make things worse?”

  Gregorz sighed. “No, we cleared the room out before we left. If things had gone to plan, then we all would have been on the first flight out of the country.”

  Michael wiped his hand across his face, shaking his head while he tried to work out how best to proceed. Steffan pushed the shot glass of vodka across the table, and this time, Michael took it, downing the liquid in a single mouthful.

  “OK, this is what you’re going to do. Gregorz will take Daniel and track Simpson. Don’t engage until the sun comes up and he transforms back. Then, once he’s human, move in and finish the job. Oskar will have to infiltrate the hospital and get rid of Troy and Gabriela’s bodies. Connie, I want you to take care of the police problem. Anyone who’s seen your face and knows your name, needs to be taken out, quickly and quietly. This is as big a fuck up as I’ve ever seen. The only positives are that Simpson is no longer in police custody, and Wilkinson didn’t tear through the hospital on camera. Believe me when I say that none of you have heard the last of this. I’ll be having a very long talk with each of you when you get back here.”