The Wolfstone Curse

by Justin Richards

  “Of course he was lying,” David said. His face was a sneer of triumph.

  “I don’t mean him,” Annabelle said. “I mean you.”

  David’s expression changed. He suddenly seemed worried.

  She stepped towards him. “Tell me what happened.”

  David brought the gun round to aim at his sister. “Nothing happened. There was… an accident, that’s all.”

  “Father is dead,” she said slowly.

  “Yes. Yes, he’s dead. But we don’t need him, not any more.”

  “Your father is dead,” Peter said. “I was there. I couldn’t help him – in fact, he died helping me and my friend Carys.”

  “Don’t listen to him!” David insisted.

  “Why not?” she demanded, taking another step closer. “He helped me. He tells the truth!”

  “Don’t move – stay there!” David shouted.

  “Or what?” Peter yelled at him. “Or you’ll kill your own sister? Like you killed your father?”

  Annabelle stared at her brother, her face suddenly pale beneath the dirt.

  “He’s lying,” David said. “You know he’s lying.”

  “I know he’s not,” she said quietly. Then she ran straight at her brother.

  A shot, but too late. Annabelle was already on David, knocking him backwards. The gun went flying – disappearing into the long grass. David managed to break free of his sister, pushing her away. But she came straight back at him.

  “Look out!” Peter shouted.

  David was reaching for his ring. Peter ran to help, but he was too late. Already the deadly moonlight was shining out from the tiny sliver of crystal. Already David was transforming into a snarling, savage creature.

  But Annabelle launched herself at her brother again, wrapping her arms round him. The light from the ring played across her face as they struggled, illuminating her fury. Lighting up her features as they slowly changed into the face of a wolf. Her fingers were claws, ripping into his side. Her mouth clamped onto his neck in a deadly, brutal kiss – ripping and tearing into her brother’s flesh.

  “Too much,” he gasped. “Close the ring – too much light.” But his words were barely comprehensible. Blood coughed from his mouth and ran down his neck. His movements became weaker and he slumped in his sister’s arms.

  She held him for a moment, then let him fall backwards.

  “I’m s-sorry,” Peter stammered, staring into the bloodshot eyes of the wolf. “I’m sorry about your father. And about David. And about… this. I wish I could help.”

  A streak of lighter fur ran from the top of the wolf’s head down its back, a grotesque echo of Annabelle’s long, fair hair. Somewhere deep in the eyes he could still see Annabelle. Something about the creature’s expression assured him she was in there somewhere.

  For a moment the creature held Peter’s gaze, and looked deep into him. He stood his ground, waiting for the claws to rip into his flesh, for the teeth to sink into his throat.

  But instead, the wolf dropped down on all fours and bounded away towards the woods.

  Peter’s coat lay shredded on the blood-soaked ground. He picked it up. Feeling a weight on one side, he reached into the pocket and took out his torch. Then he tossed the coat into the long grass outside the circle. It landed close to where they had dragged David’s body so it wouldn’t be seen. He spared it a glance, then turned away.

  “You okay?” Professor Crichton asked.

  “Yes and no.”

  “Well, that’s probably all we have time for.” The professor pointed into the distance. “Someone’s coming.”

  Two figures emerged from the woods, a little way from where the wolf had disappeared into the trees. They ran towards the circle.

  Peter’s first instinct was to head in the opposite direction. But the figures were waving at them urgently. He recognised them just as Crichton said, “It’s Abby and Mike.”

  The two had stopped and were gesturing for Peter and Professor Crichton to head for the woods. From the other direction came the sound of an engine.

  “Someone else is coming,” Peter realised. “They’re warning us we’re about to have company.”

  They reached the safety of the wood just as a large black car crested the hill behind them and drew up next to the van.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d understood us,” Mike said as Peter and his dad got their breath back.

  “We overheard these guys saying they were heading back to the circle,” Abby explained. “I think they’re just the first. Everyone will be trooping up here soon.”

  “Everyone?” Peter said. “How many?”

  “Must be thirty or more people at the manor,” Mike said. “Just hanging around outside, chatting, like it’s a cocktail party.”

  “People you wouldn’t believe,” Abby went on. “And they’re just the ones we recognised.”

  “Like who?” Crichton asked.

  “A couple of politicians – no one really famous. One’s a junior minister, I think. The actress who just got axed from that soap opera.”

  “People in uniform,” Mike added. “Army and police. So maybe it’s as well we didn’t just call 999.”

  He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, together with his lighter. Abby took them from him and put them in her own coat pocket.

  “You’re giving up,” she told him. “Remember?”

  “Any sign of Einzel?” Peter wondered.

  “Not that we saw,” Abby told him. “But he could have been there. Like Mike said, it was quite a party.”

  “And now the party’s moving up here,” Peter said.

  “Not all of it,” Crichton told them. “Remember what David Forrest just said about Einzel? He’s going to be in that cellar at the manor, soaking up the focused moonlight.”

  “I’m not even going to ask,” Abby said.

  “So what now?” Mike asked. “It’s starting to get dark. Once they’re all up here for whatever it is they’re going to do, our options will be rather limited.”

  While Crichton brought Abby and Mike up to date with what had happened and what they’d learned, Peter rang Carys. The signal kept breaking up, but he managed, eventually, to warn her to be careful coming back to the circle, and described where they were hiding.

  It was almost dark by the time Carys and her mother joined Peter and the others. More people had been arriving steadily – by car, or walking across the fields from Wolfstone Manor. The most frightening thing about them, Peter thought, was how ordinary they looked. But then, Sebastian Forrest and his son had seemed so ordinary. And his daughter…

  As evening turned to night, the people at the circle gathered closer together. Their voices were just a murmur of sound, and it was impossible to make out what they were saying. But now the conversations died away. The group stood quiet and still, within the semi-circle of stones and lamps.

  “What are they waiting for?” Professor Crichton wondered.

  “It’s a cloudy night,” Faye said. “The moon’s hidden.”

  “They might need it to be at a particular angle or position,” Carys said.

  “But when they’re ready, they’ll turn those lights on, right?” Peter checked.

  “Then the combined light of the moon and the lamps will focus on the manor,” Crichton said.

  “Which means we’ve got until the moon appears to sort things out,” Peter said. “After that, they’ll all be wolves and Einzel will be a super-wolf or whatever.”

  “But how do we stop them?” Abby asked.

  “Same way people have always stopped them,” Peter told her. “Right from the beginning, since the Stone Age.” He looked round at their puzzled faces, barely more than smudges in the gathering night. “Isn’t it obvious what we have to do?”

  As he spoke, the clouds thinned. Streaks of moonlight filtered through, glinting on the stones. A howl of triumph split the air.

  Carys felt like she was racing the clouds. She watched them scud across the sky as s
he ran. Professor Crichton led the way through the fields as they looped back towards his car.

  Occasional shafts of moonlight stabbed through the grey-black sky. Carys could only guess what was happening back at the circle. Peter would wait as long as he could for them, but if the others had to act before she and Crichton got back with the sword…

  She concentrated on running, impressed that Peter’s father was so fast and fit. Or maybe he was high on adrenaline and fear – every bit as scared as she was.

  They were both out of breath by the time they reached the road; exhausted when they reached the car. Mud was spattered up Carys’s jeans. She slipped and almost fell as they finally made it to the Range Rover. Professor Crichton caught her arm, and she gasped a thank you.

  “The sensible thing to do would be to drive back,” she said when she’d caught her breath enough to speak.

  Crichton took the crystal sword from the back of the Range Rover. “The sensible thing would have been not to leave this here in the first place.” He patted his jacket pockets with his free hand. He pulled a large bunch of keys from one pocket and stared at them. “Sebastian Forrest won’t be needing these any more.”

  “We might though,” Carys said, looking round the abandoned building site. “I’ve got an idea.”

  The ground was cold and hard under him as Peter crawled towards the circle. The night was filled with the growls and cries of the people gathered between the stones. Every time a shaft of moonlight escaped between clouds, they became gradually less human. Peter guessed they could use their shards of crystal to change completely, but were saving those to add to the force of the lunar energy when the moon emerged fully and the lamps came on.

  He edged closer, inch by inch, afraid that at any moment one of the creatures would see him. But for now they were preoccupied with the process of transformation. A senior policeman ripped off his jacket and shirt, hair erupting from his chest. A woman kicked off her shoes to reveal the clawed feet beneath. A man stood staring up at the moon, his jaw elongating and splitting through his face as Peter watched.

  All across the circle, the people were changing. Fur, teeth, claws…

  Finally, he was there, crouched behind the stone, praying he was out of sight. Peter risked a glance round the edge of the stone. A massive hairy face stared back at him. The creature reared up, raising a huge paw. Claws stabbed out from the fingertips, and slashed through the air.

  Behind the wolf, others were turning. Peter was transfixed, too frightened to move. The creature’s paw slammed into the stone beside his head, claws scraping across its glinting surface. The spell was broken, and Peter ducked back round the stone.

  At the same moment, the clouds parted and the full moon was revealed. A perfect silver disc shining down on the stones, and the creatures between them. The lamps above and behind Peter snapped on, and suddenly it was as light as day. A rumbling sound was growing, approaching – like the growling of a hundred wolves.

  Within the circle, the creatures opened their massive jaws and, as one, howled in triumph at the moon.

  Peter ducked away from another tremendous blow. He felt the breeze from it, the claws were so close to his face. He rolled aside, as the creature leaped at him. More were following. Now or never – he couldn’t wait for Dad and Carys.

  He dived across, and grabbed the hidden mechanism buried beneath the stone’s edge.

  The centre of the circle slid away. The howls of triumph became roars of surprise and anger as the creatures fell into the pit below.

  But not all of them. The wolves that had come after Peter were outside the area of the pit. Others on the far side were turning to see what had happened.

  More light shone as bundles of sticks flared outside the area of moonlight. The dry wood that Peter and the others had gathered earlier caught at once in the flame from Mike’s lighter. Abby, Mike and Faye advanced on the wolves outside the pit, herding them backwards, waving the burning firebrands.

  But they were on the opposite side of the circle. On his own, Peter backed away from the advancing creatures. Their howls of rage filled the air, echoing all round him.

  That couldn’t be right. He ducked under another blow. Dived to one side as a wolf leaped at him. How could their roars be coming from behind him? He risked a glance over his shoulder.

  Two enormous glowing eyes loomed out of the night, heading straight for him. Roaring out of the darkness. Only when one of the moonlight lamps went flying did Peter realise what it was.

  Another lamp toppled, sparking and flickering. Then it was crushed into the ground. The creatures attacking Peter backed away. He leaped out of the way of the bulldozer as it ploughed through another light, heading straight for the creatures.

  Peter caught a confused glimpse of Carys at the controls. His father was leaning off the side of the bulldozer, hacking down with the broken crystal sword, sending one of the werewolves howling into the pit in front of them. The blade at the front of the vehicle connected hard with another, knocking the creature backwards. It tumbled into the dark opening with a howl of pain.

  The last of the lights died, as Mike reached the generator. Only the moonlight remained, glinting on the stones and shining down on the creatures scrabbling to escape from the pit.

  Carys jumped down from the bulldozer and ran to help Peter to his feet.

  “You okay?” she yelled over the howls and roars from below.

  “I’m fine.” He couldn’t help grinning with relief. “I wasn’t expecting that.” He gestured at the bulldozer, engine idling and lights cutting across the circle.

  “I’ve always wanted to drive one of those,” Carys said. “Thought it’dbe more use than your dad’s four-by-four.”

  “Don’t stop, the job’s not done yet,” Peter’s father shouted to them as he ran past.

  One of the creatures was hauling itself out of the darkness. Crichton swung the sword, connecting with a massive set of paws as they reached over the lip of the pit. The creature fell back with a roar of pain. Across the circle, Faye and Abby swung their firebrands, trying desperately to keep the nightmare creatures confined. Mike ran back from the van to help them.

  Peter and Carys went too. A wolf-woman was struggling up onto the shoulders of a wolf that had recently been a man in army uniform. Peter kicked out as she struggled to drag herself out of the pit. She fell back into the angry melee below.

  “We can’t keep them in there for long,” Carys said, shouldering another back over the edge.

  “We may not have to,” Peter yelled back to her.

  The centre of the pit was in full moonlight, both from above and reflected off the glittering stones. The creatures caught there were howling louder now – in pain as well as rage. Smoke coiled up from their pelts. They tried to press to the shadows at the edge of the pit. One of them, unable to escape quickly enough, collapsed in a smoking heap. In a moment, flickers of fire burst from its fur.

  “The moonlight’s burning them,” Peter said.

  “Spontaneous lupine combustion,” Carys agreed.

  “Should I close the pit?”

  “If you do, they’ll just dig their way out,” she said.

  “And you’ll cut off the moonlight that’s destroying them. They’ll survive longer if they keep to the shadows. But it will get them eventually,” Crichton said. “Leave it open, but keep them in there.” He turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Peter demanded.

  “To the manor. Einzel’s down there. He’s lost the lamps, but the energy of the moon will still be focused on the Rogue Stone. I have to stop him.”

  “We – we have to stop him,” Peter told him. “I’m coming with you.”

  “We both are,” Carys said. “Mum and the others can cope here.” She turned to look down the slope towards where Wolfstone Manor nestled behind the woods. “This is easy, compared to what’s down there.”

  Wolfstone Manor was a dark silhouette against the gunmetal grey of the night sky. There were n
o signs of life – no lights, no movement.

  “Einzel’s here somewhere,” Professor Crichton whispered as they approached. “There may be others too.”

  “Down in the cellars,” Peter said. “With the Rogue Stone.”

  “I thought the moonlight was supposed to be reflecting down from the circle to the Rogue Stone,” Carys said, looking back the way they had come. “But you can’t even see the circle from here.”

  “It’s energy more than light,” Crichton told her. “It’s channelled through the air, and through the trees and woods.”

  “You mean like magnetism, or something?” Peter said. “Like the way a magnet can hold metal even if there’s a piece of paper or something in the way of it?”

  Crichton nodded. “The same way you can’t see ultraviolet rays from the sun. But sit outside long enough on a bright summer’s day and you’ll still get a tan.”

  “Or sunburn,” Carys said. She looked at Peter. “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Nervous. Scared.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh.” He realised what she meant. “I’m okay. I mean, I’m not about to change into a wolf again if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Of course it’s what she’s asking,” Crichton said. “Now let’s get on with this.” He hefted the jagged crystal sword as he spoke. The broken blade was gleaming with inner light.

  “You think Einzel knows what’s happening up at the circle?” Carys whispered as they crossed the terrace.

  “Perhaps. But I doubt if he cares.”

  “All those people…” Carys said.

  “People are a cheap commodity,” Crichton said. “It’s himself he’s worried about. And his precious process. Once he’s perfected that he’ll convert as many as he can.”

  They found the window where Peter had first broken in. It seemed ages ago. Peter had the torch he’d recovered from his coat. It cast a pale glow ahead of them, just enough to help them find their way along the main corridor.