High Moor 2: Moonstruck (27 page)

“The one going north will be going to join up with their friends in Thurso. The other car is probably coming back here to deal with us.”

Mark frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. We know that Connie Hamilton was around here this morning, because she came after us at Rick’s place. I suppose she could just about have made it to Edinburgh, if she’d left straight after attacking us and floored it the whole way, but if she was doing that, why not wait until she had her mates with her?”

Paul joined them at the table and glared at Steven. “She seemed more interested in you than us. Don’t suppose you’d care to enlighten us as to why that might be?”

Steven shrugged. “No idea. I’ve been hunting them for decades. I suppose they feel like I’m a bigger threat.”

“Really? So, you don’t think that there might be a more specific reason that she’d want you?”

Steven turned away from the map and took a step forward, so that he was almost nose−to−nose with Paul. “Nothing springs to mind. Unless you’ve got something that you’d like to say on the subject?”

Paul held his gaze for a second, then turned and walked off. Mark started to go after him, but Paul waved his friend away. “I’m fine, mate. I’m just going to phone Emma’s sister and make sure that they got there OK.”

“Don’t wander too far. Maybe stick the kettle on if you’re anywhere near the kitchen? I could murder a cuppa.”

Paul nodded a response and headed towards the kitchen with his mobile phone in his hand.

“So,” said Phil, “what’s the plan?”

Steven traced the line of the A1 from north to south. “We arm ourselves, then we work out a plan of attack. When we face them, we want it to be at a time and a place of our choosing, not theirs.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said that we didn’t have any weapons that could hurt them?”

An evil grin spread across Steven’s face. “Pay attention, son. That’s not what I said. That’s not what I said at all.”

***

14th December 2008
.
Park Hotel, Thurso. 23.40.

The journey north had been slow and tortuous. The snow had begun falling as they’d crossed the Forth Bridge and had grown progressively heavier as the hire car followed the A9 into the Scottish Highlands. By the time they’d passed Perth, the weather had deteriorated into near−blizzard conditions, with the road barely visible through the heavy flakes flaring into a brilliant white as they hit the headlight beams. Michael had found the effect almost hypnotic. It reminded him of the scene from
Star Wars
, when the
Millennium Falcon
had entered hyperspace. He didn’t say any of this to the vehicle’s other occupants, however. Leonid had kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the difficult driving conditions requiring his full attention, while Anya had lain down in the rear seat and had almost immediately gone to sleep. Neither of them were comfortable in their pack leader’s presence, which put Michael on edge. He’d thought that bringing along a pair of moonborn would placate Krystof, Lukas and the other Council members, but he found himself regretting his decision to send Gregorz and Daniel after Connie. They would have been much better company for one thing, and at least Michael would have been certain where their loyalties lay.

Despite the atrocious weather, they’d made surprisingly good time. The roads were almost devoid of traffic, with most motorists having more sense than to venture out in such treacherous conditions. For the last hour the only other vehicle they’d seen had been the snowplough they’d followed into the outskirts of the town.

There was only one other car in the hotel car park, a green Ford Focus that was barely visible under the thick white blanket. Given that there were no visible tire tracks, it was clear that the Ford had been there for quite some time. Leonid parked beside the buried vehicle. In the rear seat, Anya sat upright without a word, got out of the car, and made her way across to the hotel entrance. Michael and Leonid left their bags behind and followed her, only to discover that the front doors were locked.

Anya pressed the doorbell and waited. When ten seconds had passed and there was no sign of life from within the hotel, she pushed it again, this time keeping the button depressed until a short, red−haired man appeared from a door behind the reception desk with an irate expression on his face.

“We’re closed. Canna ye read tha sign?”

Michael eased past Anya. “We have reservations. Under the name of Johnson.”

“Check in closes at eleven. Tha receptionist’s gone haem and ah’m no supposed ta go intae tha office. Can ye no come back in tha mornin?”

“And where the fuck are we supposed to go? It’s blowing a blizzard out here, in case you hadn’t noticed?”

“Tha’s not really ma problem, pal. Ah’ll get a reet bollockin off tha boss if ah start messin’ aboot with tha paperwork.”

Michael’s temper began to fray, and from the look on Anya’s and Leonid’s faces, they weren’t going to put up with this for much longer either. They were both usually quite calm under pressure, but if this went any further, Anya was likely to tear the door off its hinges and feed the man his genitals. “One of our colleagues should have arrived earlier, and he would have checked in on our behalf. Can you at least take a look?”

“Ah told ye. Ah’m no supposed tae touch tha paperwork. Ah’m paid peanuts tae sit here at night, an’ take care o’ tha place, an tha’s it. It’s more than ma job’s worth.”

Michael threw a sideways glance at Anya and was dismayed to see clouds of condensation billowing from her. The situation was going to go bad very quickly unless he resolved this. “Anya, control yourself,” he hissed, then he turned back to the red−haired man and pulled a twenty pound note from his pocket. “I would be very grateful if you could at least let us stand inside while you phone your boss. We’ve travelled a long way. We’re tired and very cold.”

The money brought about an instant change in the man’s demeanour. He crossed the foyer, unlocked the door and plucked the twenty−pound note from Michael’s hand. He held it up to the light, and when he was satisfied it was real, he stepped aside, making an exaggerated bow as he did so. “Well, ah suppose there’s no harm in ye waitin’ in reception while we get all this sorted oot.”

Anya pushed her way past the man, her top lip curled into a snarl, while Michael and Leonid retrieved their suitcases from the car. When they got back inside the reception area, the night porter’s voice echoed out from the office. His voice had risen several octaves, and most of what he said was unintelligible.

Leonid turned to Michael with a bemused expression on his face. “What does ‘Away an boil ye heed ya Bampot’ mean?”

Michael shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not worth trying to explain. Where the hell is Oskar? He was supposed to meet us here.”

Leonid shrugged his shoulders. “Knowing Oskar, he will have found a nice, comfortable bar to warm himself in. I’m sure he’ll be along eventually.”

The sound of the phone slamming down came from the office, and the night porter appeared once more, muttering curses under his breath. “Ah’ve talked ta the boss, an’ the daft gowk eventually saw sense. Ah’ll give ye yer room keys noo, an ye can sort all tha paperwork−shite oot in tha mornin.”

Michael took the keys from the man’s outstretched hand, resisting the urge to break the night porter’s fingers. “Thank you so much for your help,” he said in a voice that dripped venom.

The night porter seemed oblivious to the implied threat in Michael’s tone. “Ah, tha’s nee bother, pal. Just doing ma job. If there’s anythin’ else ya need, dinna hesitate ta fuck off an bother some other poor bastard.”

The man walked away without waiting for a response. Once he’d disappeared, Michael turned to the others. “Okay, it’s been a long day, and the next few are going to be even worse. Get some rest and we’ll meet up down here at ten tomorrow morning. With any luck, Oskar will have shown his face and we can work out what our next move is.”

Anya and Leonid nodded their assent, took their respective room−keys, and headed up to the first floor. Michael walked down a side corridor, unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside.

He wasted no time. Before the door had clicked shut, he’d already begun to remove his clothes. He unlocked the window to his room, opened it, and climbed out. An icy wind howled down from the mountains to the west, but Michael did not feel the cold. By the time his feet hit the snow, his change was already well underway. He rode the wave of blessed agony as he’d done a thousand times before. The pain was like an old friend, setting his nerve endings alight with sensation.

He knew that he wouldn’t have much time. The cottage where Marie was hiding lay forty miles away by road, but just over half that in a straight line. Even so, it would be a struggle to cover that distance and get back in a single night, especially in these conditions. He had no other choice. Tomorrow they would descend on the cottage and slaughter everyone inside. He had one chance to make sure that his sister was long gone when the attack came.

Michael crouched low and made his way around the row of conifers until he reached the edge of the hotel car park. Then, with a quick backwards glance, he bounded across the road onto the moorlands beyond.

Chapter 16

15th December 2008
.
Naver Cottage, Kinbrace. 00.04.

John’s eyes snapped open. The room lay in darkness and he struggled to remember where he was. His mind was sluggish, unable to concentrate enough to form a coherent train of thought. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbows as he tried to take in his surroundings. He was lying on the floor amidst shredded fabric and shards of splintered wood. Cold fingers of dread clutched at his heart as his mind began to piece together the series of events.

“Oh God, Marie!”

He forced himself into a crouching position, despite protests from cold stiff limbs. The room had been almost completely destroyed. The last fragments of the door hung on to the twisted hinges, and Marie’s double bed was little more than a pile of kindling, foam and metal springs. He scanned the room, terrified of what he might find, but there was no sign of Marie. John wasn’t certain if that was a good thing.

He forced himself to stand, then called out to her. “Marie? Marie, where are you?”

“I’m here. Stop bloody shouting.”

Marie stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of pyjamas. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and scratched at her hair. “You’re up then?”

John stumbled to her and gathered her up into a bear hug. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I thought that…I mean, I thought…”

Marie pushed him away. “I’m okay, really. And while I appreciate the hug, do you think that you might want to put some clothes on first?”

John’s eyes opened in shock as he became aware of his nakedness. His cheeks burned. “Oh shit, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… Bollocks.”

Marie glanced downwards and grinned. “So it would seem.” Trying not to laugh, she stepped out of the doorway so that John could scurry past her into his bedroom.

“You might want to have a shower to get rid of the wet−dog smell. I’ll go and make us a cup of tea.”

John trudged down the stairs ten minutes later. The destruction of the cottage made him sick to his stomach. The banister on the staircase had been utterly destroyed. Thick gouges scarred the wood−clad walls, and the carpet was covered in shards of broken glass. Marie sat on one of the remaining kitchen chairs, with a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She smiled as John entered the room. “I’d have made coffee, but I sorta broke the machine.”

Her joke didn’t make John feel any better. “I…I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry, Marie. You could have been killed.”

“Don’t worry about it. The way that I see it is that we made some real progress. Yeah, things got a bit out of hand, but next time we’ll be ready for it.”

John almost spat his tea out. “Next time? Are you fucking serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. You getting a grip of your wolf isn’t something we’re doing for a laugh. Both of our lives depend on it. We’ll clean this place up in the morning, and then start again. Maybe with a bit less of the changing and attacking though.”

John shook his head. “I don’t know, Marie. How the hell did you manage to get away?”

“I got to the weapons crate and shot you with the first thing I got my hands on. Fortunately for you, it was a tranquiliser pistol instead of the .44 Magnum. Next time I’ll keep the tranq gun with me and put you out if things start going tits up again.” She winked at him. “Anyway, I’d say that we’ve pretty much lost our security deposit on this place, so at least we don’t have to worry about that.”

“I can’t believe that you’re so calm about this. If you’d been just a little slower…”

“I know. Believe me, it’s not the sort of experience I’m keen to repeat. We’ve got five tranq darts left, so you have exactly that long to beat your puppy into submission. And you shouldn’t underestimate what you achieved. I mean, come on, you brought on the change yourself. That’s massive. We just need to work on your control a bit, that’s all.”