Foxblood #1: A Brush with the Moon

  Chapter Twenty

  AFTER GRABBING my coat from the cloakroom and a torch from the overhead shelf, I left the sanctity of the house.

  “Where are you off to?” I heard Beth shout as the door closed behind me. I didn’t stop to answer. I didn’t want anybody trying to stop me. Whatever surprises the tunnels held, I could handle them. I was a tenderfoot, wasn’t I? I’d proved my powers on more than one occasion. What could be so different this time?

  Three sets of footprints in the snow led to the now familiar cave entrance. Inside, it was dark, damp, and eerie. I pulled the torch from my pocket and turned it on. The light from the bulb was feeble in comparison to the flaming torches that had graced the walls on my previous visit, and did nothing to dispel my feelings of nausea.

  I made my way past the shafts to the back corner where I knew the entrance to the tunnels was and found it blocked by a gate, a twin to the one where I’d first met Tokala. Luckily, the padlock on this one was unlocked, and I crept silently into the passageway.

  The tunnel seemed endless, and the further I travelled, the more nervous I became. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. I was starting to feel claustrophobic, but I willed myself to continue. Ahead, the tunnel split into a fork, and I chose the wider route, plunging deeper and deeper into the unknown depths of the mine. It felt as if I’d been walking forever.

  Around yet another bend, the passage widened into an open area with a very faint shaft of light emanating from a small split in the high, tubular ceiling. The stench of death permeated the air, rancid, as if a college full of students had overdone it on a Saturday night and left the evidence all in one place. Bile rose in my throat. I retched, grasped at my sleeve to cover my face, hoping that it would keep me from gagging, and tried not to breathe. Peering into the darkness, I could see that three more tunnels radiated from the central area, but I was spared the choice of which one to take by a scraping noise coming from the one to my left. Hurriedly, I switched off my torch and flattened my body against the cave wall.

  The noise grew louder as the source came into view. I squinted at the shape. A skinny boy of about my age, dressed like a tramp in a dirty overcoat and tatty boots with the soles flapping, shuffled into the opening. He was walking with a limp, and his hunched back seemed to sport an extra hump. Poking around in the rotting rubbish strewn around the perimeter of the cavern, apparently scavenging for food, he kept nervously turning his head as if studying the complex sounds of the caves, and I noticed that under his dirty blond knife-and-fork haircut, his face was more rat than human.

  A larger shape appeared out of nowhere, a huge Minotaur-like beast with a wolf’s head and claws for fingers. I froze with fear. Momentarily startled, the boy dropped his meagre pickings and tried to flee, but the beast pounced, adeptly landing on the boy’s back, pinning him to the floor. To my horror, it devoured his head whole before ripping the rest of his body limb from limb.

  I couldn’t hold back a gasp. The werewolf forgot its meal, lifted up its head, sniffed the air, and then turned in my direction. It seemed to stare straight at me. It didn’t matter that I was hiding in the shadows; it knew I was there. I felt the colour drain from my face, and I panicked. My heart rose in my throat and began beating wildly as the beast crept towards me.

  I should have known what to do. That was how it worked, wasn’t it? But I had no idea. My only hope was to ask for help from Tokala and pray that she answered, so I grabbed the pendant and closed my eyes, willing for some kind of assistance.

  It didn’t arrive.

  As the werewolf grew nearer, I turned on my heels and fled. Under my feet, the floor was slippery and hard to navigate. In the blackness, I felt my way along the walls as I ran until I stumbled on a loose stone and almost lost my footing. The beast was getting closer. Heavy, padded footsteps pounded towards me. I could hear its rasping breath and…shit…feel its warmth. It was almost upon me.

  Oh, God, was this it? Was I going to die savagely, like the poor rat boy? Here, alone in the dark? I whirled my head around to meet my pursuer, and mentally said goodbye to my mum.

  The werewolf stopped, confident that its prey was conquered. It was close enough now for me to see. Matted black hair covered its whole head, red eyes bored menacingly into mine, and drool mixed with blood dripped from its mouth. I stared into the eyes of my killer.

  It pounced—but so did another one, coming from behind me, and I was knocked against the wall. The two wolves met midair in a frenzy of animalistic snarls and roars, reminding me of a pair of lions I’d seen fighting on a recent wildlife programme. Viciously they fought, clawing, biting, flinging each other against the walls and falling roughly to the floor before springing back up to pounce again. Fur was ripped out and brutal, bloody gashes were ripped across their bodies.

  I came to my senses and ran. I’ve never been one for running, but I ran for my life then, not stopping until I reached the sanctity of the cave, where I collapsed on the floor, sobbing but grateful to be alive.

  I don’t remember how long I sat there with tears of relief streaming down my cheeks. Time seemed to stop as I relived the experience repeatedly in my mind, until I believed that I could hear the werewolves’ growls approaching again. Except the sound was a little too real, and a little too loud, to be in my imagination.

  Crap. I hadn’t padlocked the gate. Was it too late?

  Finding the strength to rise to my feet, I crept over to where the gate came into view, and it wasn’t the only thing I saw. A shape gradually materialised and revealed itself.

  Weakened from the fight and badly injured, the werewolf stumbled awkwardly towards the newly closed gate and clung to the rails. I held my breath and watched as it slid down to the ground and began to transform. Its height shrank, its claws withdrew, its fur receded, and a face was gradually revealed. A familiar face. A pained face.

  Connor’s face.

  “Oh my God. Connor?” I cried, quickly summoning the energy to unfasten the gate and drop to his side. “Let me help you. You have to move. You need to come a little further.”

  I helped him drag his broken body past the boundary of the gate and secured it again behind us.

  “It was you? You saved my life. I can’t believe you did that for me. I…well, I-I’ve so many questions.” I scanned his bruised and bloody body. “But they can wait. We need to get you inside.”

  “I don’t know how many times you want me to apologise. I know I was stupid. You’ve hammered that home quite convincingly.” I was amazed how easily angry words had spouted from the feeble body now recovering in the comfort of his room. “Although I wouldn’t have had to risk it if you’d have come with me from the beginning.”

  “Yeah, well, now you know why I didn’t want you to go. You could have been killed.” He thumped the sheets with frustration.

  “You’ve said that about fifty times.”

  “And I’d say it another fifty if I thought you’d listen.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “That’s why you’re still alive. What were you thinking?”

  “I thought I could help,” I said as I dabbed antiseptic onto his wounded neck.

  “You thought wrong. Aargh, that stings.” He grabbed my hand. “Give it a rest.”

  I shook his hold away, screwed the lid back onto the antiseptic, and placed the bottle on the table. “I don’t understand what happened—or should I say what didn’t happen? Why I was…well, why I was…just human? I think I’ve lost my powers.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’d offer to let you test them on me, but Seb would rip my throat out if I tired you for something so trivial. Maybe it’s like when we first change. Unstable, you know. Give it time.”

  I fussed with the sheet. A need to keep busy somehow eased my guilt.

  Connor groaned and snatched my wrist. “Do ya think you could stop petting me for one moment? I’ll heal soon enough without all the attention. Unless you’re using it as an excuse to touch
me, in which case, please, carry on.”

  His stare was intense, with a mere hint of a cheeky glint in his eye that churned my insides. I left him alone.

  Christmas dinner was a very female affair. Three chairs sat empty. Connor, whose injuries were now barely noticeable, sat at the head of the harem, mutely conducting the specially brought-in staff with a nod of his head or a flick of his hand. Every sound bounced off the walls and echoed around the huge dining room, accentuating the absence of more occupants. The meal passed by in a blur. My mind wasn’t in the room. I’d eagerly been looking forward to a long-forgotten, proper family Christmas, but now my happy bubble was severely deflated.

  Time dragged, and the evening passed with more of the same. There was still no sign of Sebastian returning, and my mood hit rock bottom. Not even Beth’s tipsy motor mouth could pull me out of the depression I was rapidly sinking into. I feigned tiredness and retired early.

  Sleep refused to relieve me of my thoughts, and when the weak rays of morning sunlight peeped through a gap in the curtains, they made an unwelcome addition to the room.

  Unlike Beth, morning tardiness had never been my problem, but I lay there sleepless longer than I should have, until soulful notes from the piano drifted faintly up the stairwell and seeped through the gaps around my door. Clearly I wasn’t the only person with things on my mind.

  After hauling myself out of bed, I forced myself to shower and let the hot water sear my skin until it stung with pink heat. But I couldn’t wash away my anxieties, so I dried off, grabbed my nightdress from the floor, and returned to the bedroom, where Connor stood staring.

  “Knock, much?” I asked, my screwed-up nightdress not doing anything to cover my modesty.

  “I…er…” he stammered, drinking in the view. “Sorry.”

  Swiftly grabbing my dressing gown, I turned to put it on. “A gentleman would knock. What do you want?”

  “One guess,” he mumbled, barely audible.

  “Pardon?”

  He paused. “It’s late. You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

  “And you thought I might have gone…? Of course you did. Unbelievable. Don’t you think one brush with death was enough for me? Do you think I fancy giving that monster a second chance to finish me off?”

  At the word ‘monster’, a pained and defeated expression crossed Connor’s face. It quickly turned to anger, and he abruptly saluted, retreated, and departed silently, leaving me feeling like the school bully for screaming at him with unspoken insinuations. I shouldn’t have shouted at him. Beth was right. I had changed, and it wasn’t me.

  I dressed laboriously and simply in plain trousers, a classic polo neck jumper, and a long, sleeveless cardigan, accessorising the outfit with a chunky bangle and a huge necklace. Then I stood staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror.

  How far away my old life in Brumpton seemed. Back then, even my wildest imaginings could not have pictured how the course of my life was going to alter. Where was the young student with dreams of being an artist? She certainly wasn’t visible in the mirror before me. I had secretly undergone a complete metamorphosis into bitch lady of the manor, and I wasn’t sure if I was wholly comfortable with that. It felt like a pretty lonely position, and loneliness is scarier than any monster.

  Beth bounded through my door and landed excitedly on the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead. I’ve been practising, and I think I’ve got it figured out.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The walking-through-walls thingy. I can do doors, too. Want to see?”

  “Not right now, Beth. I—”

  “What are you wearing? You look like my grandma.”

  “I do, don’t I?”

  “You need to get out of here. Take a break from Sebastian and all this weirdness. It’s not good for you. Look, let’s go home, see our other friends, do a bit of partying—yes? Lara’s already left. Connor’s being a total grump. That leaves a lush, a granny, and an introvert inbred. Not exactly how I’d planned to see in the New Year. Pleeease?”

  I stared at her smiling face and couldn’t say no. “Yeah, you’re right. I need a break. I’ll start packing.”

  Thirty minutes later, we descended the staircase and deposited our full bags by the door. The lounge was devoid of life, and I felt awful leaving anonymously, but the taxi’s horn beckoned.

  “Well, goodbye, house!” I shouted at the ceiling as Beth let in the winter chill and headed outside. “Maybe I’ll be back; maybe not.”

  I bent to retrieve my bag, but Connor’s hand beat me to it, and he held it out for me.

  “I heard your little farewell speech and tripped down. Running away now?”

  I ignored his question and took my case from his hand.

  “What’s up?” he persisted. “Can’t stand being alone with me?” His face was a mask, but his eyes held a challenge I didn’t have the will to oppose.

  “I just think it would be better if Beth and I returned home. Tell Sebastian to ring me when he gets back.” I began to leave, but paused with my hand on the door handle and looked over my shoulder. “Or don’t.”

  “Miss you,” he whispered as I pulled the door shut on his bewildered face.