Blood Moon (9 page)

I
t takes longer to tell it than it took for it to happen. The screaming woman, the body at her feet. She raised her hands, and they were red with blood. Emerald, instinctively running towards her; the red-stained hands beating, beating, beating on Emerald’s head and shoulders. The scream that seemed like it would never stop: ‘Murderer, murderer, murderer…’

Dusty ran forward. Mrs Anderson screamed again. She glanced round wildly, grabbed the broom from beside the steps, whirled it high above her head and smashed it down at him. ‘Animal! Animal! Animal!’ she shrieked.

Dusty seemed to freeze with the shock. Emerald grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

‘We’re going,’ she called. ‘It’s all right Florrie, we’re going.’ She nodded fiercely at me. ‘Stay with her,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll be in the floater.’

They disappeared up the hallway.

I stood there in the old-fashioned kitchen that smelt of soup and toast and blood. I forced myself forward.

Mrs Anderson halted, the broom in her hands. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Danielle Forest. I’m…I’m a friend. Of Black Stump,’ I added quickly, to disassociate myself from the Tree.

She gazed at me up and down. ‘You’re not a werewolf?’

‘No.’ And more or less Truenorm, I thought, but the more bit didn’t matter now.

‘You were with the werewolves,’ she accused, but the terror was dying from her voice now.

‘I gave them a lift down.’ I didn’t say I was staying with them. ‘Black Stump called the Tree. They asked them to help you.’

‘Help me!’ Suddenly the broom dropped from her hands. She collapsed onto one of the ancient aluminium chairs, her face in her hands. She began to cry, but it was calmer crying now.

‘They killed him,’ she muttered through her fingers. ‘They killed my Andy.’

I knelt beside her. ‘Who? Emerald and Dusty?’

‘Who knows? One of them. It was one of them!’

‘Are you sure? Maybe…’

Mrs Anderson raised her twisted face to mine. ‘Come and look,’ she said. ‘Come and see what they’ve done.’

I helped her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, then walked to the door. I followed her.

The body lay at the bottom of the stairs. He wore red and green pyjamas. It took me a second to realise the red was blood.

An old man. His eyes were open. For one dreadful moment I thought he was still alive. But no one can live with a hole where their throat should be.

The blood had collected in a small pool about the step. His hands were bloody too. However horrible his injuries, I thought, he must have lived a few seconds after the blow that killed him. Must have reached towards his attacker. Must have seen who struck the blow, who stood above him while they tore his flesh.

Mrs Anderson placed her feet neatly around the blood
as she stepped down the stairs. She knelt by the body and lifted the bloody head into her lap. That must have been how she had been sitting when we arrived, I realised, how the blood had stained her hands and dress.

I tried to think what to do. What should you do when an old man lies there with his throat gouged out, his grieving widow by his side? When a pair of werewolves are waiting for you out in the darkness? When the darkness seemed to seep inside the lighted kitchen, into my soul?

What person could have done this? Surely no human.

No wolf either. I had to concentrate on that. Wolves kill, bite, maul, but only if they are scared, only to bring down their food.

Mr Anderson lay there, his arms outstretched. And it did look like someone had been feeding on his throat. Some thing…

No, not wolf, I told myself as the old ancestral terror began to rise in me. A wolf might do the physical damage. But no wolf, none of the wolves I knew, the friendly, hospitable clan up at the Tree, could have done this.

The smell of blood was familiar. But the last time I had smelt it a human had been responsible. Gloucester, gutting his wife’s murderer. And the time before that it had been a human who had killed too, the boy Tam tearing at Perdita’s throat…

I bent down. ‘Mrs Anderson, please…’ I took her hand. ‘You have to leave him. Just for a moment. Come on, up here, that’s right. You need to wash…’

Five minutes later I had coaxed her to wash her hands; had stripped the bloody dressing gown off her and shoved it in the sink in the laundry; had found a
kettle and a canister of tea—not Realtea, but the drink was still hot and the sugar and caffeine brought a little steadiness to her voice and her eyes lost their fixed and vacant look.

I sat at the table and held her hand, and tried not to look at the blood under her finger nails, tried to ignore the smell of blood from the door and Mrs Anderson cradled her tea in her other hand as though it was the only warmth left in her life now her husband was gone.

‘Can I call someone for you?’ I asked, then mentally kicked myself. I couldn’t Link with her Terminal. I’d have to call Dusty in, or Emerald.

She shook her head. ‘Ophelia said she’d call Sonia and Alan.’

‘Your children?’

‘What? Yes. Sonia…Sonia is too far away. But Alan will come. He’ll find a dikdik. He’ll be here in the morning.’

‘Mrs Anderson…earlier, when Dusty and Emerald were here…’

Her head came up. ‘You won’t let them in! You won’t let them touch him!’

Unbidden an image rose in my mind of Dusty and Emerald kneeling on the bloody ground, feeding on the flesh of the dead man. It was an impossible image, but it lingered nonetheless.

‘They won’t come in again,’ I soothed. ‘But Mrs Anderson, it can’t have been them. No really,’ as her hands began to tremble again, ‘I was up there when the call came. You called Black Stump straight away, didn’t you?’ She nodded. ‘Then there wasn’t time for any of them to get down here and back again!’

‘The floater,’ said Mrs Anderson.

‘Rusty’s delivering venison with their…oh, you mean my floater. Could they have used that?’

Mrs Anderson raised her head. ‘Could they?’ she asked.

‘I…I don’t know.’ I tried to think back. I hadn’t felt the floater’s engine to see if it were warm. Why should I?

Yes, someone could have taken it, noiselessly, without lights. Could have killed down here then taken it back and been in the house by the time the second call was made. What would it have taken? Three minutes perhaps for Mrs Anderson to accept her husband was dead; a minute to call Black Stump; two minutes for them to soothe her enough to call the Tree. Two minutes for Eleanor to take the call and run upstairs. Yes, it could be done. But had it? I couldn’t believe it.

‘Mrs Anderson I’m sure it wasn’t anyone from the Tree,’ I said gently. ‘I’ve been staying with them. They’re…well, not gentle perhaps. But they’re…nice people. I know it sounds silly.’

She put her cup down. ‘No dear, it doesn’t sound silly,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve known them for years remember. They were always…nice people. Good with the children. Good neighbours too.’

‘Then how can you believe…?’

‘You see, dear, I know,’ said Mrs Anderson. ‘I saw it in the moonlight. I heard him cry out, I ran to the door. I saw it crouched at the edge of the garden, over by the lemon tree.’

‘Who was it?’ I whispered.

‘I don’t know. The light wasn’t good enough for that. But I saw the claws. I saw the…shape. Just a glimpse, but it was enough. It wasn’t human. It was one of them.’

‘
D
anielle? Florrie?’ The footsteps clattered down the corridor. Human footsteps. Already my ear could pick out the difference.

‘There you are. Is Andy…oh my…’ Ophelia stared out the back door, then averted her eyes. Yorik followed her. He glanced at the body, at the woman in the kitchen, then took charge.

‘I’ll get a blanket,’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of him. Damn, I wish Gloucester was here; you’ll have to help me Ophelia, I can’t manage him by myself.’

‘Where is Gloucester?’ I asked.

‘Patrolling,’ said Ophelia. ‘Fat lot of good that did too. I’ll get the blanket. Yorik, you…’

‘Florrie?’ Sister Tracey strode down the corridor, Brother Cydore on her heels. She shot me a look of surprise and dislike, then turned to Mrs Anderson. ‘My dear, we came as soon as we heard,’ she said. ‘Whatever we can do to help…’

I’d rather have a crocodile assist me than Sister Tracey, I thought, but then I saw the genuine gratitude on Mrs Anderson’s face, the warmth as she clasped Sister Tracey’s hand.

Sister Tracey might be an old shark, I realised, but she was familiar and I was not. Besides, I chided myself, Sister Tracey had recently gone through the same experience. Well, not quite the same perhaps: I couldn’t really believe that Sister Tracey mourned
for Brother Perry. But she too must have looked through a door in the darkness and seen the horror that lay beyond.

Brother Cydore stared around the room. He held something in his right hand. I looked more closely and recognised a neurone tangler. I had only seen them in Virtual before. They were forbidden in the City. Surely there wasn’t much call for them in the Outlands, I thought. A tangler only affected human minds. You couldn’t use it for hunting or slaughtering livestock.

Were werewolves human enough, I wondered, to be killed by a tangler? I supposed they were. It seemed Brother Cydore thought so too. He met my eyes. ‘If one of those creatures sets a paw in this house again,’ he said angrily, ‘they’ll…’ he hesitated, obviously trying to find a fierce enough threat. ‘They’ll wish they hadn’t,’ he added lamely.

If they were shot by a tangler they wouldn’t be wishing anything at all, I thought, as Mrs Anderson began to cry again.

I touched Ophelia’s arm. ‘I’ll go now,’ I said softly.

She nodded. ‘I had a word with Dusty and Emerald.’ She glanced at Brother Cydore, standing with his back to the benches as though to defend the cutlery from a werewolf attack. ‘They’re pretty upset.’

‘So is Mrs Anderson,’ I said drily. ‘Ophelia, she says she saw a wolf out there in the darkeness.’

‘She must have been mistaken!’ said Ophelia automatically. ‘A wombat maybe. It was dark.’

‘She’s very sure.’

Ophelia bit her lip. ‘Just take them home,’ she said finally. ‘Explain it to them if you can. There must be some explanation…’

I nodded. I had got halfway up the corridor when someone came after me. It was Brother Cydore.

He waved the tangler again. ‘Just tell those animals,’ he said. ‘That we’ll be watching out for them.’

‘Yes, sheriff,’ I said. ‘Just remember to wear your badge and your white hat.’

He looked at me uncomprehendingly. I supposed he’d never seen an antique western; or if he had, didn’t recognise the reference.

‘Anyway,’ I added. ‘They’re not animals.’

He stared at me. ‘Any creature that deviates from God’s norm is an animal,’ he said.

‘That makes me one too.’

He said nothing. I felt his eyes on me as I walked out the door.

I
t was dark outside. It is such a simple thing to say, but I had never known true darkness till I came to the Outlands—in the City you only have to Link for lights to turn on. But here, with the light from the house suddenly shut off as I closed the front door behind me, the darkness seemed to settle round me like a blanket that would be hard to shake off.

I shivered. For the first time I realised that a murderer might share the darkness with me. It hadn’t occurred to me before that I might be a victim too…

‘Danielle.’

I jumped, then realised it was only Emerald. ‘Over here,’ she said. Suddenly the floater’s inside light flashed on. Of course, I thought, wolves don’t need the light. Emerald could smell me in the darkness. Could she smell my fear too?

I crossed over to the floater and sat in the control seat. ‘How is she?’ asked Emerald quietly.

‘Upset. But the others are with her.’

Emerald nodded. I tried to think of something else to say. Your neighbours think you are killers? Brother Cydore and, for all I knew, a dozen others are waiting for you with death in their hands? No, those words were best unsaid.

It seemed a long four minutes back to the Tree. The moon was high above us now. The shadows shivered black and gold. This time I didn’t turn the floater
floodlights on. Whatever was out there could stay hidden tonight. I wanted to forget it. I wanted to go to sleep, to cuddle next to Neil.

It had seemed so much less desperate last time I had hunted a killer, with Neil at my side. Almost a game at times, a part of our courtship. This wasn’t a game. Suddenly, desperately, I wished I’d never agreed to come. I could have made some excuse, said I was needed back at the ‘topia—anything, as long as I’d been saved from this.

The image of Andy Anderson’s long, bloody body would never leave me, nor would the grief on his wife’s face.

The Tree loomed above us, dark against the moonlit sky. Only the lights from the lower trunk flooded into the night. Eleanor must have left them on for us, I thought vaguely.

I wondered if Emerald would mind if I made myself a drink in her kitchen; my throat felt rough and dry. But I didn’t want company. If she offered to make it for me, I’d make some excuse…

I turned to her. ‘Emerald, would you mind…?’ I stopped. Emerald stared out at the Tree, her nose lifted towards the window, her ears pricked.

‘Something’s wrong,’ she said.

Of course there’s something wrong, I thought wearily. A good man has had his throat torn out, a woman is weeping back in that farmhouse, your family is suspected of three bloody murders.

‘Land around the front,’ ordered Emerald.

‘But…’

‘Don’t argue! Do it!’

I blinked, then switched to override and swung the
floater away from the pad and down by the front door.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

Emerald limped swiftly up the stairs without replying. The door opened for her as she disappeared inside.

Dusty paused in the doorway, his nose raised. In profile he looked even more wolf-like. Then suddenly, horribly, he crouched on all fours and scrambled into the darkness, sniffing at the roots of the Tree, his bum towards me. I saw the silhouette of his tail in his shorts. I had no idea what had just happened, or why. I switched the floater engine off, and followed Emerald cautiously inside.

The room was deserted. Of course it was deserted, I thought, Eleanor must be asleep and the others too…For the first time it occurred to me to wonder why Eleanor had stayed at the Tree and let Emerald go in her place. Surely Eleanor would have assumed she’d take charge.

I hesitated. Should I go to bed? Or try to find Emerald, or even Eleanor, and see what was the matter now?

In the end thirst won. I’d find the orange juice, I decided, and hope that someone appeared as I was drinking it. The larder door had just opened for me, when a voice interrupted.

‘Danielle!’

I turned. It was Eleanor. ‘I hope you don’t mind my…’ I began.

‘The cubs have vanished,’ she said. Her eyes were wide and shadowed.

‘What?’

‘I checked on them before I went to bed. Emerald usually does but she…’ Eleanor took a deep breath, as though to steady herself. ‘Anyway, their room was empty.’

‘Maybe they’ve gone for a walk.’ As I said it, I realised how lame it sounded. No one went for a walk at midnight. Unless they were werewolves, I thought suddenly, as Eleanor seemed to take the suggestion as perfectly reasonable. ‘No. I’ve forbidden anyone to leave the Tree after dark without permission. The cubs wouldn’t disobey me.’

‘Then what could have happened to them?’

‘I don’t know.’ Eleanor seemed smaller suddenly. She sat down heavily, looking sprawled and uncomfortable on the cushions. ‘I wish I did know. I don’t have Dusty’s sense of smell or hearing. Rex does but he was asleep. They must have gone out for a run. They must have. Anything else is…’ She shut her eyes for a moment, then lifted her head again. ‘Rex is out looking for them. Emerald’s gone too and Dusty. If anyone can find the cubs, Dusty can.’

‘But it’s dark…’ I began, then realised Dusty would use his nose, not his eyes.

‘I’ve called Rusty too. But I just got his default. I left a message, but he won’t get it till he wakes up.’

‘How can I help?’

‘You can’t,’ said Eleanor bluntly.

‘I could take the floater…’

‘Where to? You wouldn’t see anything without the lights on and if the lights are on anyone who has…if anyone has taken them they’ll see the lights and hide.’

‘Do you think that’s what’s happened? Someone has taken them?’

‘Yes. Maybe. I wish…’ She shook her head angrily. ‘Oh, it’s so impossible. Ridiculous. I can’t just stay here doing nothing…’

I tried to think. ‘Maybe if we went in the floater
together. With the windows open and the lights off…you could…sniff out the window and tell me which way to go.’

‘I can’t!’ she cried.

‘But…’

‘Oh God, you don’t know, do you? I really can’t leave.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m lead female. We don’t leave. Ever. Rusty and Dusty—and Rex too—accept a lot from me. They accept my work, they accept the way I dress. With a bit of…encouragement, they accept the changes I am trying to make to the way we live and how we are accepted.’ She buried her head in her hands for a moment, then lifted it again. ‘That’s a joke, isn’t it? Everything I’ve done to get us accepted wiped out in three weeks. But they wouldn’t accept my leaving the Tree.’

I sat beside her. I wondered if I should put my arms around her, or if she’d suddenly turn on me and bite. ‘Why ever not?’

‘It’s a wolf thing.’

‘That doesn’t explain anything!’

‘It would if you were a wolf.’ Eleanor sounded almost close to laughing, but there was a touch of hysteria too. ‘I’m head of the clan, but I belong to the clan too. Literally. They have to know I’m…I’m not available to anyone else. That my cubs are clan cubs. I have to smell of the clan.’

She hesitated, then went on. ‘Two generations ago a clan leader mated with a human. One of the Andersons, if you want a real coincidence. And, no, I don’t suppose any of the present Andersons even know it happened. I don’t know if he raped her or she chose to go with him. I
don’t know if she thought she could hide the smell, or if maybe our…human…strain would make the clan accept her, in spite of what she’d done.’

‘Did they?’

‘Accept her? No. They tore her to pieces when she got home. Literally. Then they ate her.’

‘Eleanor…’

‘Which shocks you most? The killing? Or the way it was done? Or what happened next?’

‘I…I don’t know. All of it’

‘Wolves eat their dead. That way the dead don’t smell, don’t attract predators who might then eat their young. And now you’re thinking we’re wolves, aren’t you? Animals, animals, animals who just pretend to be human…’

‘Would…Do you think they would do that to you?’

Eleanor sat on her cushion. I could see the strain it took to sit so quietly. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘We are more human now. We mix with humans too, and that makes a difference as well. I’ve tried so very hard to make that happen. They wouldn’t tear me to pieces; they wouldn’t even kill me. But it would destroy them nonetheless—destroy the clan. I couldn’t do it. Not even now.’

Suddenly I remembered how disturbed Emerald had seemed at Eleanor’s strange smell after she had been in Virtual; how her room had smelt strange too.

Eleanor pushed herself to her feet. She began to stride around the room, as though to use the energy she couldn’t use outdoors. ‘That’s why I had the CleanBreeze put in,’ she added. ‘Not because Michael was offended by the odd whiff of wolf. Because Emerald and the others were disturbed by the smell of the City—the way I

smelt in reaction to strange smells they couldn’t share. But it was easier to tell them…well, you understand.’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Eleanor halted midstride. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said unexpectedly. ‘Sometimes…sometimes I think I would go insane if it wasn’t for my work, for being able to escape to the City in Virtual. It’s good to be able to talk sometimes to someone who doesn’t think wolf.’

‘I’m glad there’s at least something I can do then,’ I said.

Eleanor nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Just wait with me. Just sit here and wait.’