The Noose Of A New Moon (Wolfbrand Book 1)

by Helen Harper

  There were naturally born werewolf kids but their bodies were built to cope with the physical demands of lupine transformation. This girl didn’t look like those children. She didn’t possess their squat, heavy bones or their unruly hair. This girl had started life as a human.

  She gazed at him dully, barely registering his presence, then she squeezed her arms tighter around herself and moaned again. He could still leave. In the unlikely event that the police didn’t shoot her dead on sight, she was nowhere near clear-headed enough to identify him. Nobody knew he’d been there.

  Devereau took another step back and cursed. Fucking hell. He peeled off his T-shirt and tossed it to her. ‘Put that on. Now.’

  The girl simply stared at him.

  Devereau clenched his jaw. Lord McGuigan had tried to compel him through his voice and he knew that it was possible for supes to do that. He was also aware that it was far easier when you had the other person’s real name. He had no clue what this girl was called or if he could compel someone to act, especially when they were in a state of deep shock like she was. But if he could use his authority to scare away drug dealers and force violent hoodlums to give up trying to kill people and join his Flock, he could deal with one small girl.

  He drew in a breath and tried again. ‘Put on the T-shirt.’ Then he blinked. Man! He could feel it. He could feel the power beating through every word. He tried it again, even as the girl was already mechanically doing as she’d been told. He averted his eyes. ‘Put on the T-shirt and stand up.’

  She got up on shaky legs. His T-shirt swamped her but at least it covered her thin body. Devereau held out his hand and beckoned her towards him. He couldn’t risk stepping in the pools of blood. He couldn’t leave any trace of himself or he was likely to be indicted for the murders. But what he would do was to help the real murderer make her escape.

  The girl stumbled forward and placed her hand in his. She was emaciated and hollow cheeked, her bones fragile and bird-like. He gave her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze. ‘We’re going to get out of here,’ he promised. ‘You just have to do what I tell you. Alright?’

  The girl managed a tiny nod.

  ‘I’m Devereau,’ he told her. ‘What’s your name?’

  She didn’t answer. He saw her cracked lips and the bruises on her neck and a ripple of rage ran through him. Someone had done this to her; she hadn’t done it to herself. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘You can tell me later. Let’s go.’

  She let him lead her out of the room and down the hallway. As Devereau pulled her gently towards the window he’d come through, he realised the girl would struggle to get down to the ground. ‘I’m going to give you a piggyback,’ he said. ‘Put your arms round my neck and hold on as tightly as you can.’

  She did as he said. He hoisted her up until her bare legs were hooked round his waist.

  ‘Hang on.’ He stepped towards the window and then he paused. Everything had gone silent. The muted buzz from the outside world had all but disappeared. That meant only one thing: the armed police were about to enter.

  Devereau moved fast. He swung out of the window arse first with the girl still clinging to him, and lowered his body until only his fingertips were curled round the windowsill. He let go as he heard the sound of the front door thudding open, booted feet running up the stairs and bellowed shouts of ‘Armed police! Nobody move!’

  He landed on his feet. The girl’s body jolted against his back but she held on. ‘Well done,’ he muttered. ‘We’ve got this.’

  He hauled both of them over the fence and into the pub. Leaving from here was incredibly risky – he had no way of knowing what was waiting for him outside or whether the police presence had been beefed up – but he had no choice. There was no other way out.

  He jogged back through to the bar and leapt to the door while the girl buried her face in his neck. He opened it an inch and peered out. There was no sign of the group of lads; no doubt they’d been forced to skedaddle after giving a false report to the police. The street was empty and the cordon had been pushed back in both directions. Devereau counted several uniformed officers at either end, some watching the crowd and some watching the street. Fuck. Getting out of here without being noticed was going to be next to impossible.

  Should he find a hidey-hole inside the pub and wait until the hubbub died down? Given the bloody scene inside the house, he suspected that would take days rather than hours. Besides, when they discovered that their murderer had managed to escape, the police would probably initiate house-to-house searches. If he was going to get the girl away safely, he had to think of something else.

  Closing the pub door again, Devereau moved to the grubby window and searched for another escape route. His brow furrowed. There was a narrow snicket on the other side of the street about thirty metres away from the pub door. He didn’t know where it led and it could be a dead end, but it was unguarded. As soon as he made a move towards it, though, the police would swarm all over him. The only way he could get there unnoticed was if there was an appropriate diversion – and with police and onlookers to his left and right that wouldn’t be easy.

  ‘I’m going to let you go for a moment,’ he murmured to the girl. ‘I need you to stay here. Understand?’

  He received a tiny grunt in response. He slowly eased her to the floor and waited to check that she was going to do as he’d asked. When she simply stood there, her bare feet planted on the grimy boards and her expression vacant, he nodded and got to work. This was a pub. It shouldn’t be hard to find what he needed.

  Devereau grabbed a large plastic bottle full of cheap lime cordial and emptied it in the sink behind the bar. There was a pot of pencils near the till; using three of them and a roll of yellowing Sellotape, he taped them to the bottle to make a shaky stand. Then he headed back to the staff area and into the kitchen.

  He doubted the pub menu was extensive but they would definitely serve chips, and where there were chips there would be vinegar. Within seconds, he’d found a large bottle of the stuff and decanted a generous amount into the empty cordial bottle. Now for the store room. He resisted the urge to take more pork scratchings and looked around for the last of his ingredients. At the back of the room, next to an array of cleaning products, was a huge box of baking soda. His nan had worked in an old London pub just like this one and she always swore that nothing was better for scrubbing down the sticky mess left by drunken punters than good, old-fashioned baking soda.

  Locating a cork from a long-since discarded champagne bottle, Devereau took all his equipment into the yard. He could hear the police searching inside the house so he moved quickly in case any of them paused and glanced out of the upper windows. He poured baking soda into the cordial bottle, rammed the cork into its neck and turned it upside down on its makeshift stand. He darted back inside the pub, threw the girl over his shoulders, went to the front door and reached for the handle. Any second now. Any second … NOW.

  There was a spurting sound from the pub’s garden followed by several screams from outside as shocked onlookers mistook the miniature home-made rocket for something far more sinister. They were still screaming when Devereau wrenched open the pub door and sprinted across the street towards the narrow alley. The girl’s arms tightened round his neck and she hung on for dear life.

  He didn’t stop when he reached the alley. He couldn’t be sure that his makeshift science project had drawn everyone’s attention away from the street and up to the sky, so he kept moving, praying that there’d be a way out.

  He swung to the right. The alleyway ended in a row of flat-topped garages. He climbed onto the nearest one and ran along the roofs before dropping down to the left and into another back street. As he sprinted down it, he wondered if he should turn wolf. He’d move faster, but he’d also risk drawing attention. And could he still carry the girl while in wolf form? He had no idea.

  He didn’t think anyone was on his heels but he was still far too close to the danger zone. Then he heard a screech
of wheels.

  Devereau glanced towards the end of the narrow lane as a car pulled up and blocked the exit. He hissed. Shit. Someone had seen him after all. They weren’t going to escape – and there was nowhere else to go.

  He slowed to a halt. He was a werewolf; he could still fight his way out and worry about explanations later. ‘Listen kid,’ he started, ‘this is going to get messy. You need to…’

  The car door opened and a hand beckoned him. Devereau stopped mid-sentence. Was that really who he thought it was?

  The hand beckoned again and Devereau blinked. A moment later, he jogged forward.

  ‘I suppose,’ Scarlett drawled, ‘you’d better get in.’

  Chapter Six

  Devereau bundled the kid into the back seat of Scarlett’s car, clipping in her seatbelt when she seemed unable to do it for herself. Then he walked round to the passenger side and got in. ‘Were you following me?’ he asked conversationally.

  Scarlett offered an arch grin. ‘No.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Why? Would you prefer it if I had been?’

  ‘I was merely commenting that it’s something of a coincidence that you happened by when you did.’

  ‘There’s no coincidence, Devereau.’ She put the car in gear and moved into the road. ‘All three clan alphas are here because of a violent incident involving a werewolf. I’m surprised that Clan Fairfax didn’t send their own representative in lieu of an alpha. Whatever, in the current climate any incident involving any supe is also the business of us vampires since we all tend to be tarred with the same brush. I was asked to offer my assistance to the alphas in tracking down the killer.’ She glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘Lord Horvath will be pleased to see that she’s already in supe custody.’

  Devereau stiffened. ‘She’s not in custody. I’m not the fucking police. And there’s nothing to prove that she was involved in whatever was going on back there.’

  ‘Nothing apart from the fact that she reeks of at least three different people’s blood. And when I say reeks, I mean she smells like she’s been bathing in it in a way that most vamps only dream of.’

  He looked sharply at the girl. His newly enhanced werewolf skills included a very keen sense of smell but he couldn’t discern blood types. Scarlett obviously could. Three people? Not two? So who was the third?

  ‘That means nothing,’ he said. He pointed to the crossroads ahead. ‘You can drop us here. I’m parked around the corner.’

  ‘The Metropolitan Police aren’t stupid, even if they occasionally appear that way,’ she told him. ‘They’ve already identified your car. If you go anywhere near it, they’ll slap you into custody regardless of the girl back there. You know they’re only looking for an excuse to put you away for good whether you’re a werewolf or not.’

  Devereau curled his fingers into tight fists. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with what happened in that house. Besides, I’m supposed to be answerable to supe law not human law.’

  ‘Exceptions can be made to every rule, as I’m sure you’re aware. And I don’t think any of the clans will be jumping to your defence at any point in the near future.’ She took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at him. ‘Am I right?’

  He exhaled sharply. That damned knot of tension in his back was tightening up again and his eyebrow was starting to twitch.

  ‘That girl is dangerous whether she’s killed anyone or not,’ Scarlett told him. ‘You can’t deny that she’s a werewolf, but she’s obviously not naturally born. Her very existence threatens all of us.’

  ‘So you’re suggesting that we should put her down like a dog? She’s a child.’

  Scarlett didn’t respond immediately. When she did, her voice was sad. ‘When people think of supes, they think of power and wealth and strength beyond measure. They imagine that our lives are filled with nothing but parties and dancing and drugs and sex.’

  Devereau put up his hands in mock horror. ‘Wait. You mean they’re not? But that’s the only reason I became a werewolf. If I can’t have sex and dancing and drugs on tap twenty-four hours a day, I want a refund.’

  Scarlett clicked her tongue but he didn’t miss the glint of humour in her eyes. ‘We deliberately make ourselves appear that way because then the rest of the world views us as less of a threat. Yes, we’ve got money. Yes, we’ve got power. And yes, we’ve even got super strength. But, as you’ve already discovered, we are also despised. All supes are. Even those humans who come to play with us hate us deep down for having what they don’t have, for being different. They’re jealous of what we have and scared of what we can do. Our numbers are deliberately curtailed by the government, and we’re told where to live so that we can be kept in check. We are fighting to make things better for all supes and we’re making inroads but that girl threatens to put all our efforts back by several decades.’

  Devereau gritted his teeth. ‘Whatever she’s done, it’s not her fault.’

  ‘No. It’s not.’ She looked in the mirror again and sighed. ‘But nobody ever said life was fair.’

  He turned his head to see how the kid was taking Scarlett’s words but it was hard to tell. Her head was bowed and she was staring down at her bloodied hands. ‘What’s the point in fighting for supe rights if you’re going to abandon your own kind along the way?’ he asked softly. ‘The girl stays with me. I’m taking full responsibility for her.’

  ‘You’re already a pariah because of how you got yourself turned. If you don’t hand her over to the clans, you’ll only make matters worse for yourself.’

  Devereau shrugged. ‘So be it.’ He looked at Scarlett, challenging her to argue further.

  She smiled. ‘I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Was this a test? Were you trying to goad me into giving up the girl to see what kind of person I really am?’

  ‘It was no test.’ She hesitated. ‘I was curious how far you’re prepared to go to help her. And I wasn’t sure if you fully understood all the ramifications.’ She stopped the car as the traffic lights ahead turned red. ‘You have to understand that I am wholly loyal to my Lord. If Lord Horvath asks me what I know about the girl or where she is, I am bound to tell him. However, he’s somewhat distracted these days so if he doesn’t ask I won’t tell. But you won’t be able to keep her hidden for long. You’ll have to come up with a better plan than hide-and-seek if you want to keep her safe. And if she kills anyone else, all bets are off.’ Scarlett gave him a hard look. ‘I mean it.’

  ‘Noted,’ he growled.

  A car pulled up alongside them, music blaring from its rolled-down windows. A man in his early twenties in the passenger seat looked at Scarlett. It was obvious he immediately recognised her as a vampire. His blue eyes widened with morbid delight and he started to wave vigorously. ‘It’s daytime, bloodsucker! Why aren’t you burning up, like the monster you really are? You know what God thinks of your kind, don’t you? You’re going to hell, bitch!’

  Devereau put his hand on the door and prepared to get out. Scarlett touched his arm. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve got this.’

  The man pointed to his neck. ‘You gonna bite me? I’d like to see you try!’

  Scarlett left the engine running as she unclipped her seatbelt and calmly got out. The man blanched slightly but he was too much of an idiot to back down. ‘Whatcha gonna do? Eh? You don’t know who I am. If you so much as breathe your foul bloody breath on me, I’ll…’

  Scarlett didn’t give him chance to finish his sentence. She leaned down, grabbed him by the arms and yanked him out of the window. He screamed. She hauled him up against the car, pressing his spine against it, then she moved her face into his and deliberately exhaled.

  ‘Let me go! Let me go!’ He struggled against her, unable to free himself.

  Scarlett rubbed her body against his and opened her mouth to display her single fang. ‘In a moment,’ she murmured. ‘I just want a little taste first.’ She grinned and looked down at his crotch. ‘Well, well, well. That’s
quite some reaction you’re having there. All that blood pumping to one place.’ Her hand reached down until it was hovering just above his tented trousers.

  The man screamed again. ‘No! Don’t touch me! I’m sorry!’

  Scarlett tapped her mouth thoughtfully. ‘Make it up to me. Get on your knees.’ He threw himself down, desperate to do as she asked. She lifted one stilettoed boot. No furry slippers now. ‘Lick it.’

  Devereau could see that the man was shaking and he frowned. This was going a bit too far. He was all for standing your ground but he drew the line at humiliation. But this was Scarlett’s gig so he held himself back and continued to watch.

  The man’s tongue darted out and he gave Scarlett’s foot a single, delicate lick. She smiled again and kneeled down. ‘Say thank you.’

  ‘Th – thank you.’

  She patted him on the head. ‘You’re welcome.’ She winked. ‘Watch that mouth of yours in the future.’ She turned and sauntered back to the driver’s seat while the hapless man scrambled up and threw himself back into his vehicle. His friend who was driving stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  ‘And you’re surprised that humans despise supes?’ Devereau commented.

  She turned on the engine. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I probably shouldn’t have done that. But sometimes the only thing you can do is fight back.’ She glanced at him. ‘You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?’

  He didn’t get the chance to answer. From the back seat, a small thready voice piped up, ‘That was so cool.’

  ***

  Try as Devereau might, he couldn’t get the kid to speak again. He coaxed and cajoled but she returned to staring at her lap, her lank brown hair covering her face. At least he’d learned that she spoke English – and with a London accent. Unfortunately he’d also learned that she took a macabre pleasure in violence, or at least in the potential for violence.