Dead Flesh (8 page)

“Why?” Isidor
asked him.

“Because that’s
what the wolves do isn’t it?” the man suddenly snapped. “That’s
what they’ve always done – that’s just the way it is.”

“The way what
is?” I asked him, shaking my head.

“Did you not do
history at school?” he came back at me, mopping sweat from his
cheeks, or were they tears?

“It wasn’t my
strongest subject,” I told him.

“But still, you
must know about the wolves?” the man pushed, dumbfounded that we
seemed not to know what he was talking about.

I looked at
Isidor and he looked blankly back at me. As if seeing that neither
of us had the faintest idea what he was talking about, the man
said, “The Treaty of Wasp Water. You must have heard of the Wasp
Water Treaty? You know, the great battle that took place there two
hundred years ago between us and the wolves?”

“No, remind
me,” I told the man, my heart racing. “I must have missed that
history lesson.”

“Well go look
it up,” the man snapped, tired now of our ignorance.

“We know a town
called Wasp Water,” Isidor cut in. “We’ve been there.”

Then, taking
the cigar from the corner of his mouth, the sweaty-looking man
said, “You’ve been to Wasp Water, you say?”

We both nodded
at him.

“You lie,” the
man gasped.

“Why do you say
that?” Isidor asked him.

“Because he
would have never let you leave,” the man whispered and peered about
the shop just in case someone we hadn’t seen might be
listening.

“Who?” I asked
him, my mouth turning dry.

“The one and
only human the wolves have welcomed into their pack,” the man
explained.

“What’s his
name?” Isidor pushed.

With his jowls
wobbling from side to side, the man shook his head and said, “No
one knows his name – not his real name. Where have you two been for
the whole of your lives? I can’t believe you’ve never heard of the
Wolf Man – the only human to live amongst the wolves. Now get out
before I change my mind.”

“About what?”
Isidor asked him.

“Putting your
advert up in my window,” he barked.

“But I thought
you said it was weird,” I said.

The man glanced
up from the words written on the advert and said, “Maybe it’s time
I pushed back?”

Kiera

“Potter!” I
gasped. “You scared the hell out of me!” and although he had scared
me, I was so glad to see him again. I threw my arms around his neck
and kissed him. He kissed me back, but there was something wrong,
it was like he was holding something back somehow.

“What’s wrong?”
I asked him, looking into his dead, black eyes. Rain dripped from
his chin and ran over his naked chest and down his stomach.

“Let’s get out
of the rain,” he said, leading me towards the summerhouse. We
climbed the steps. Potter pushed against the white wooden door and
it squealed on rusty hinges as it opened. He closed it behind us
and for a moment, I stood in the centre of the small, wooden
building and listened to the sound of the rain drum against the
roof. Potter came towards me, and with the flat of my hand, I
brushed the raindrops from his face, shoulders, and chest. His skin
seemed to tighten and mine tingled as I touched him. He took my
hands in his and bringing them up to his mouth, he kissed them. It
had been a while since I had sensed such emotional sentiment from
him.

“Potter, what’s
wrong?” I breathed.

“The world
really has changed since we left it, or came back to it,” he said.
“I don’t really know which it is.”

“What’s
happened?” I asked. “Apart from the name changes and the logo on my
iPod…”

“That’s
nothing,” he cut in. “I mean, the world has really changed.”

“How?” I asked,
my heart now beginning to race.

Potter let go
of my hands and ran his fingers through his hair. Then staring at
me, he said, “It’s my worst nightmare.”

“What is?” I
almost screamed at him, just wanting to know what he had seen on
the other side of the manor walls.

“Wolves are
living amongst the humans,” he whispered.

“But they
always have,” I reminded him. “Just like the Vampyrus lived amongst
the humans.”

“Those Vampyrus
and Lycanthrope that lived amongst the humans before, lived in
secret,” Potter said. “The humans never knew of their existence.
The humans never knew that the people who were murdering them and
their children were Lycanthrope who were living in secret amongst
them. Only the Vampyrus knew that, and it was my job to track them
down and punish them for their crimes. But there aren’t any
Vampyrus anymore and it’s like there never was.”

“How do you
mean?” I asked him, the sound of the rain beating off the roof of
the summerhouse now growing louder.

“It’s like the
Elders changed history somehow when they snatched all the Vampyrus
back and sealed The Hollows forever,” Potter started to explain.
“With no Vampyrus to keep the Lycanthrope in check, they’ve left
their hiding place beneath the Fountain of Souls and now live
openly amongst the humans as their equals somehow. Where the
Vampyrus had once worked as doctors, police officers, formed bands
like U2, and helped design the iPod, this world, or this version of
it, everything that the Vampyrus achieved, every little influence
that they had, is now down to the Lycanthrope.”

“So what does
that exactly mean?” I asked him, sensing his concern – or was it
fear?

“It means we’re
in deep shit!” he snapped. “The Lycanthrope are killers…” he
started.

“But maybe
they’re different now,” I said, but not really believing it myself.
“Maybe they’re not a race of serial killers…”

“Yeah and
perhaps the tooth fairy really exists,” Potter growled. “They can’t
help themselves, you should know that – you were murdered by one of
them – Jack Seth killed you, remember?”

“He had no
choice,” I said, pulling Potter close.

“And that’s
what I’m trying to tell you, Kiera. They have no choice. They kill,
that’s what they do. Even though Seth must have known that by
killing you he would die beneath The Hollows, he still couldn’t
resist you. He couldn’t stop the urge of ripping you to pieces,” he
said, taking my face gently in his strong hands.

“But you can’t
be sure that they are still killing,” I said. “The humans wouldn’t
put up with it.”

“What if they
didn’t have a choice?” he asked me. “What if the humans had struck
some kind of deal with the Lycanthrope?”

“Why would they
do that?” I asked him.

“Perhaps the
Lycanthrope didn’t give them a choice,” he said, his eyes growing
dark. “And we all know how they keep to their word. Remember the
deal that they struck with Murphy? Look what happened to him. They
killed him.”

I looked at
Potter and I could see that anger, frustration, and hurt in his
eyes again as he remembered how Murphy had been betrayed. “What
would Murphy say if he were standing here right now?” I asked
him.

With a wry
smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Potter said, “Let’s go
and catch us some wolf.” Then the smile faded and he added, “But
Murphy isn’t here any longer. There are no Vampyrus left – it’s
like they never existed. I am all that is left of them.”

“So what are
you going to do?” I asked him, hoping that some of his fight was
coming back – that spark which had drawn me to him in the first
place.

“I’m going to
stop them,” he said. “That’s what I did before, with Murphy and
Lu…that’s all I know – it’s what I do best.”

“But there is
only you left.” I pushed him. “How are you going to do it all on
your own?”

Then, turning
his back to me, he went to the corner of the summerhouse and
reappeared with a holdall in his hands. He threw it at me. I
snatched it from the air.

“What’s this?”
I asked him.

“You said that
you missed your old life, that you wanted to be Kiera Hudson
again,” he half-smiled and his jet-black eyes twinkled. “So I went
and got you some of your stuff from your flat.”

“It’s still
there?” I asked him, wondering if parts of my old life had been
pushed too.

“Kind of,” he
said, lighting a cigarette, watching me unzip the bag.

“What’s that
mean?” I asked him.

“Your flat is
four streets along now,” he said. “At first I couldn’t understand
why your underwear drawer was full of thick, old woolly knickers
and bras that the SAS would have been happy to use as parachutes.
Then the old woman started whacking me with her walking stick.”

“Old lady?” I
laughed. “What old lady?”

“The old lady
who lives in your flat, the flat that you used to live in before
everything got pushed,” he explained. “She caught me rifling
through her knickers – I thought they were yours. Anyway she whacks
me over the head and calls me kinky. I tried to tell her that I
wasn’t kinky and she said she was going to call the cops.”

“So what did
you do?” I said, my hand over my mouth as I tried to stifle a fit
of the giggles.

“I ran, that’s
what I did,” he snapped, unable to see the funny side of the story.
“And don’t you dare breathe a word of this to Isidor. I’m fed up
already with him calling me Gabriel every five minutes.”

“I promise,” I
said, unable to hide my laughter anymore.

“It’s not
funny,” he barked. “I didn’t have to go and get that stuff for
you.”

I looked in the
bag and could see that it was full of my own clothes, underwear,
perfumes, make-up. Just beneath a pile of T-shirts, I found a
photograph of my father. I brushed the tips of my fingers over his
face.

“I thought you
might like that,” Potter said softly, coming to kneel next to me on
the floor. “There was a picture of your mother, but I didn’t bring
it. Apart from her ripping my heart out, I didn’t think you would
want…”

“The picture of
my dad is enough,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

As if sensing
the picture of my dad was upsetting me, Potter reached inside the
bag and said, “And look what else I found.”

“What?” I
whispered unable to take my eyes from the picture of my dad.

“Your police
badge,” he said, waving it before me.

I placed the
picture gently back into the bag and took my badge from Potter.
Constable Hudson
it read in silver letters
on the front. “Why did you bring this back with you?” I asked
him.

“You said that
you missed being a copper,” he said. “And besides, if you’re going
to start investigating stuff again, I thought it might come in
handy. You never know.”

“But I thought
you said the whole Miss Marple thing was a waste of time,” I said,
looking at him.

“That’s before
I realised the Lycanthrope were back,” he said. Then, taking my
hands in his, he said, “Kiera we’ve got to find out what they are
up to. And if they are still killing, somehow we’ve got to find a
way of stopping them.”

“Just like the
old days, huh?” I said, staring down at my badge again.

“Me and you,
Kiera,” he whispered. “The old team back together.”

“Kayla?” I
asked him.

“Of course,”
Potter smiled. “It wouldn’t be the same without her whingeing.”

“Isidor?”

“Don’t push
your luck,” he groaned. “He can stay here and look after the manor
– you know, a bit like Alfred from the Batman comics.”

“No Isidor, no
team,” I said, staring straight at him.

“Okay,” he
said, throwing his hands up into the air as if in surrender. “But I
promise you, one more wisecrack from him about my name and…”

“Why did you go
and get my stuff for me?” I cut over him.

“Why not?” he
shrugged.

“Tell me the
truth,” I asked him.

“Because you
wanted it and I couldn’t bear to see you so unhappy, Kiera,” he
said. “You haven’t been the same since you came back.”

“Neither have
you,” I said.

“I know I
haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I
didn’t have a reason for being here – I didn’t have a fight,” he
explained.

“And now that
you’ve got the Lycanthrope to hunt, you feel happy?” I asked
him.

“Isn’t a fight
just what you’ve been looking for, too?” he came back at me. “Isn’t
that what this whole setting yourself up as an investigator thing
is all about? You’re looking for trouble. Kiera, me and you are the
same. We need a fight in our lives.”

“Is that all
you need?” I asked him.

“No,” he
whispered, bringing his face within inches of mine.

“What else
then?”

“This,” he
said, ripping my shirt open with one quick swipe of his claws, and
pushing me down onto the floor.

Kiera

For the first
time since returning from the dead, we made love together. We took
our time. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like it had been in the
caves, below the Fountain of Souls. And for the first time, there
weren’t those guilty thoughts which had plagued me for so long
about Luke. He was now gone from my life and forgotten. Even my
fears about those cracks that had appeared on my skin slipped to
the back of my mind as I lay back on the floor of the summerhouse.
Potter was unusually gentle, covering my face, neck, shoulders,
breasts, and stomach with soft kisses. There was no music either,
just the sound of the rain drumming against the summerhouse roof
and the gentle rise and fall of our breathing.

“I love you,
Kiera,” he whispered against my cheek as he lowered himself onto
me.

“I love you
too,” I smiled, running my hands through his untidy hair. I dug my
fingernails into the small of his back and there was a sudden urge
to completely let go, but I couldn’t, just in case those cracks in
my dead flesh appeared. So, closing my eyes, I arched my back
slightly, as he gripped my wrists and pinned me to the floor. He
pressed his mouth over mine and I could feel his fangs with the tip
of my tongue. They felt sharp, and I gasped slightly as I felt the
warm sensation of my own blood spill over my tongue. The coppery
taste of it in the back of my throat felt sweet and my whole body
shivered beneath him.