High Moor 2: Moonstruck (15 page)

A pair of knuckles rapped against the passenger window. Daniel raised his eyebrows and lowered the window.

“My, Connie, I do like your new look.”

Connie did have a new look. She wore an ill−fitting leather jacket over a dark green top and a short leather miniskirt. The jacket only just hid the blood that stained the green fabric black around the shoulder and neckline. Her hair was dishevelled and she kept scratching at her stomach. “Ye can go suck a leper’s cock in hell, Daniel.”

Gregorz leaned across. “I take it that you’ve not had a good night. Where’s Marie?”

Connie’s eyes blazed, and as she ranted, flecks of saliva sprayed from her lips. “Ah wish ah fuckin’ knew, because then ah’d be eating the bitch’s heart.”

Daniel could barely contain his smirk. “I take it that the girls night out did not go well?”

“Not if ye call the cunt spearing me through the stomach with half a tree, then running me over in the car an' pissing off with ma clothes a good night. Ah had to kill some little slag in Chester−le−Street for her clothes, or ah’d have been coming here in the nude.”

Daniel’s attempt at suppressing his amusement failed and he started to chuckle, despite the situation. Gregorz frowned at him, then turned back to Connie. “And why would Marie resort to such drastic measures, Connie? Perhaps something you did? Something you said?”

“She didn’t change. The moon was up, shining right on her pretty little face, an' fuck all happened, even though she’s been locked in a hotel room for the last month. Ah couldn’t smell any trace of a wolf on her. She smelt human. Like food. And the law’s pretty specific about dealing with humans who know about us.”

Gregorz snarled. “There could be any number of reasons why Marie didn’t change, Connie. That does not give you the right to attack another member of this pack without provocation, and I’m not sure how Michael is going to take the news that you tried to hunt his little sister. Now get in the car and keep your mouth shut. I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless I ask you to speak.”

Connie opened the rear passenger side door and flopped into the back seat. She opened to mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and instead lapsed into a sullen silence. Satisfied that he’d made his point, Gregorz turned back to face Daniel. “Have we heard anything from Oskar or the others yet?”

The German shook his head. “No, but then it is still early. How many bodies did the news say there were?”

“At least three on the last report, but with the numbers expected to rise.”

Gregorz considered this for a moment. “The casualties are most likely the guards and driver of the prisoner transport. Those were expected. It may be that the moonstruck is giving them a little more trouble than anticipated, and they’re having to chase it down.”

Daniel exhaled. “Well, it won’t be like they were the only ones to let a moonstruck get away from them tonight.”

Connie’s brow wrinkled. “What other moonstruck? Ah thought that… Oh ye bastards. Ye absolute pair of motherfuckers. Ye went after Wilkinson, didn’t ye? Ye went after the bastard that killed ma daughter and ye left me out of it. Worse, ye let the fucker escape.”

Daniel turned around to face her. “Connie, we…”

Her lips curled up into a snarl. “Shut it, Daniel. Ah want to hear it from Gregorz. Is that what you did?”

Gregorz nodded. “We discussed it with Michael and Oskar. If it had been up to me, then I would have let you have him. The timing of the hit was sensitive though, and we weren’t sure that you would have been able to restrain yourself. In the end, the decision was taken out of my hands.”

Connie’s face turned purple, and she was about to tell her team alpha exactly what she thought, when a set of headlights flashed on the approach road and a white transit van pulled up alongside. Oskar got out of the van and climbed into the car, beside Connie.

Gregorz looked from Oskar, to the van, then back to the Norwegian. “Troy? Gabriela?”

Oskar shook his head. “Both dead. The moonstruck was like nothing that I’ve ever seen. Huge, strong and fast. Worse than the creature in Prague. At first, the thing just ran. I’ve never seen a moonstruck run from a fight before, and it took us by surprise. It was past us before we could react. Troy and Gabriela pursued it while I cleared up the scene and headed around to intercept. By the time I got there, it was already too late. The moonstruck had killed them both and the police were already arriving.”

Gregorz massaged his temples. “So the police have both Troy and Gabriela’s bodies. I’m not sure that this day could get any worse.”

Connie gave a slight cough. “There was something else, Gregorz. The police showed up at the hotel before we left. They didn’t see Marie, but they got a good fucking look at me. I’m supposed to go into the station on Monday, to answer a few questions.”

The vein in Gregorz’ temple began to twitch, and the team alpha’s jaw clenched. For a moment he said nothing, then he turned around to face Oskar and Connie. “Things have gone too far. In two decades hunting moonstruck, I’ve never known an operation to go this badly wrong.” He reached into the alcove beneath the car radio and retrieved his telephone. “We need to talk to Michael. We need to let him know what’s happened.”

Chapter 9

12th December 2008
.
Nauchnnyy proyezd, Moscow. 22.03.

Michael sat alone in the dilapidated office, drumming his fingers on the desk while glaring at the telephone. He barely looked up when Steffan entered the room and took a seat opposite him.

Steffan pushed a bottle of vodka across the table. “Here, while we wait we may as well have something to take the edge off things.”

Michael shook his head and pushed the bottle back to his friend. “I need the edge right now. I have to stay sharp. I’ll relax when we hear back from the teams in England. Then we can take care of that bottle of Zyr.”

Steffan gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and poured two shots anyway. He raised a glass to his alpha, before swallowing the clear liquid. “You worry too much, Mikhail. Two of our best teams are working on the situation. They have done these things many times before. They will take care of the moonstruck and return home with little Marie, yes?”

In spite of things, Michael could not help but grin. “You know she hates it when you call her that?”

“Ha, secretly she loves it. There is a little smile in her eyes when I say it, it’s just not easy to notice with all of the anger and indignation that she hides behind.”

“I’ll take your word for that, but I wish I shared your confidence about the problem in England. I don’t like the reports I’m hearing from over there. This is too public. It should have been a quiet clean up mission, not a fucking media frenzy. We’ve not been at risk like this since 1966.”

“Mikhail, you are my alpha, and you are also my friend. I tell you, Gregorz will call you as soon as he has any news.” At that moment the telephone chose to ring and Steffan smiled. “You see?”

Michael looked at the telephone with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He reached across and pressed the loudspeaker button. “Gregorz, I’m here with Steffan. What’s the situation over there?”

The telephone crackled and there was a pause before Gregorz spoke. “Not good. Troy and Gabriela are dead and Simpson escaped. The police have their bodies, Wilkinson managed to evade us and your sister has run off. Oh yes, and apparently the police have tracked us to the hotel we were using as a base of operations.”

A wave of nausea bubbled up from Michael’s stomach. “So you’re telling me that you managed to fuck up every single aspect of your respective missions? What the hell happened?”

Oskar spoke next. His voice seemed different, without his usual arrogant tone. The Norwegian sounded shaken, which was something that Michael wouldn’t have believed possible. “Simpson was too powerful. I’ve never seen a moonstruck like that before. He tore through Troy and Gabriela like they were nothing. By the time I arrived to back them up it was all over.”

“And the Wilkinson hit? How did you manage to screw up killing a crippled, comatose old man?”

This time, it was Daniel who spoke. “We waited as long as we could for Oskar’s message, but it didn’t arrive. By the time we got there, he’d already changed. He escaped through a window and fled. We gave chase, but by the time we caught up Wilkinson had transformed back to his human form, stole a car and got away.”

“He turned himself back? So he’s not moonstruck, then?”

“Gregorz managed to get a shot off before it escaped. The silver may have weakened it enough for Wilkinson to take control. At least, that’s what we think happened.”

“And what about the police? How in God’s name did they manage to track you down?”

Connie’s voice crackled through the speaker. “They spotted me at the hospital an' the courthouse. It must have been enough for them to get a description, so that Garner bitch could go round the hotels in the area.”

“Is there anything back in that hotel that could make things worse?”

Gregorz sighed. “No, we cleared the room out before we left. If things had gone to plan, then we all would have been on the first flight out of the country.”

Michael wiped his hand across his face, shaking his head while he tried to work out how best to proceed. Steffan pushed the shot glass of vodka across the table, and this time, Michael took it, downing the liquid in a single mouthful.

“OK, this is what you’re going to do. Gregorz will take Daniel and track Simpson. Don’t engage until the sun comes up and he transforms back. Then, once he’s human, move in and finish the job. Oskar will have to infiltrate the hospital and get rid of Troy and Gabriela’s bodies. Connie, I want you to take care of the police problem. Anyone who’s seen your face and knows your name, needs to be taken out, quickly and quietly. This is as big a fuck up as I’ve ever seen. The only positives are that Simpson is no longer in police custody, and Wilkinson didn’t tear through the hospital on camera. Believe me when I say that none of you have heard the last of this. I’ll be having a very long talk with each of you when you get back here.”

Connie’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What about Wilkinson an' yer sister? She didn’t change when the moon came up, an' she stuck half a fucking tree through ma stomach.”

“Marie will go to ground somewhere. She’s not a priority. The same goes for Wilkinson. If he’s not moonstruck, then he’s not an immediate problem. When this is over, you are more than welcome to track the fucker down and rip his head off, but I expect you to carry out the mission first. Am I making myself clear?”

Each of the voices at the other end of the line murmured their assent and Michael disconnected the call. “Fucking hell, Steffan, what’s going on over there?”

The older man poured them both another drink. “The situation is not ideal, but as you said, it could be worse. There is still time for them to clear up this mess before it attracts any more attention. What I am most interested in is what are you going to do now? Will you speak to the others?”

Michael picked up the glass and drained it. “No, not yet. I’ll see what the situation is in the morning. I’d rather have something positive to say before I go and speak to the Council.”

“And if things are no better in the morning?”

“Then God help us all.”

***

12th December 2008. Steven’s House, High Moor. 21.08.

Steven turned off the main road, onto the maze of narrow lanes leading to his home. He’d driven from Durham via a circuitous route, determined to avoid CCTV cameras or police patrol cars. Durham Constabulary didn’t take it kindly when criminal acts were committed against one of their own, especially when that act had taken place inside the grounds of their headquarters. Coppers tended to get riled up over things like that, and Steven didn’t fancy trying to explain what he was doing in a stolen car, naked apart from a woman’s heavy winter coat, to some overzealous traffic constable.

He’d driven in silence the whole way, turning the situation over and over in his mind. He was a werewolf. One of the monsters that he’d spent the last two or more decades hunting. When it happened to Carl, the American hadn’t been able to cope with it. He’d locked himself away in a hotel room for almost a month, drinking scotch and writing down everything that he thought Steven would need to know about hunting werewolves. Then the old bastard had blown himself to pieces. Steven couldn’t help but wonder whether he was destined for a similar fate, once the reality of the situation had sunk in. He couldn’t afford to dwell on those thoughts now though. Not with at least two pack assassins on his tail.

If the large, two legged variety of werewolf was bad, then the pack’s murder squads were so much worse. As smart as a man, and damn near immune to silver. Normal silver bullets were not going to do the trick. If he had two of them to worry about, then he’d need his special ammunition. The ones with the silver particles suspended in mercury. Pack killers.

First things first, though. Before he did anything he needed a hot shower to remove the last lingering musk of the werewolf. Then he could take care of his wound properly, have something to eat and find out what the hell had been going on in the month that he’d been unconscious.