Wolf in the Fold h&f-4

by Simon R. Green

  now?"

  "Perhaps we're being allowed to see it," said Marc. "Perhaps the freak doesn't

  need to hide it from us any longer."

  They all looked at him. "You mean the freak knows we're here, and what we're

  doing?" said Jamie.

  "Haven't you felt you were being watched?" said Marc. "Haven't you had that

  feeling right from the start?"

  "The freak must be a magic-user of some kind," said Alistair. "He set up the

  illusion after he broke out; first so that the servants wouldn't see the hole,

  and then so that we wouldn't… until he wanted us to. Now he's hiding behind

  another illusion, dogging us from one floor to another and laughing at us all

  the while."

  "Oh great," said Hawk. "Not only is he inhumanly strong and a killer, but he can

  mess with our minds as well."

  They stood quietly for a while, staring into the creature's cell, because it was

  easier than looking at each other and admitting they didn't know what to do

  next. Marc finally broke the silence, his voice soft and reflective.

  "Think what he must have endured, shut up in that tiny cell for years on end. No

  way to measure time, save by the passing of day into night and night into day.

  No sound save his own voice, no company save his own thoughts. And all the years

  passing, one into another… Did he ever understand why he'd been shut away and

  left to die, except as a punishment for being… different? Perhaps in the end

  that's what kept him alive so long; a slow-burning fuse of hatred, waiting for a

  chance at revenge.

  "Don't start feeling sorry for the creature," said Alistair. "He's already

  killed one man. And he would undoubtedly kill you, given the chance."

  "We don't know the freak is the murderer," said Marc. "There's no evidence, no

  proof; nothing to tie him directly to the killing. For all we know, one of us

  may be the murderer, for reasons of his own."

  Hawk studied him thoughtfully but said nothing.

  "We can discuss this better downstairs," said Jamie, with just enough of an edge

  to his voice to make it clear that this was an order and not a suggestion. "It's

  obvious the freak isn't using his cell anymore, so there's no point in hanging

  around here. We've been gone a long time. The others will be worried about us."

  He turned his back on the gaping hole in the wall, and started off down the

  corridor, followed by the others. They made their way silently back down the

  staircase, and all the way down Hawk thought of the dead rats in the freak's

  cell. He'd studied the fresher bodies very carefully, and as far as he could

  see, none of them had any signs of a death wound. Just like the dead man in the

  chimney.

  In the drawing room, after the search party left, those left behind at first

  busied themselves stacking furniture against the door, but that didn't take

  long. The atmosphere became tense and strained. No one felt much like talking.

  Holly sat with her back pressed against the wall, her face pale and bloodless.

  Her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, and she jumped at every

  sudden noise or movement. Katrina had given up trying to get through to her, and

  sat elegantly on her chair, sipping unhurriedly at her wine and thinking her own

  thoughts. Greaves and Brennan stood self-consciously on guard by the barricade.

  Brennan had an old short sword he'd taken from a plaque on the wall, while

  Greaves was holding a heavy iron poker from the fireplace. The butler's cold

  features could have been carved in stone, as usual, while Brennan looked somehow

  larger and more imposing, as though having a sword in his hand had awakened

  memories of the man he used to be. David Brook and Lord Arthur sat close by

  Holly, trying to comfort her with their presence. And Fisher stood with her back

  to the fireplace, watching them all unobtrusively, and wishing desperately for a

  sword.

  She wasn't sure she believed in the freak, but that didn't mean there was no

  danger. In her opinion there were enough human killers around without having to

  turn to the supernatural to explain a sudden violent death. It was much more

  likely the killing had something to do with the spy Fenris. She shifted her

  weight from one foot to the other, and hoped Hawk wouldn't be long. She always

  thought more clearly when she had Hawk to discuss things with.

  Lord Arthur got up and helped himself to another drink. David glared at him.

  "Don't you think you've had enough, Arthur? You're no use to us drunk."

  Arthur smiled. "I'm no use to anyone, drunk or sober, Davey. You should know

  that. Besides, to a seasoned drinker such as myself, getting drunk isn't nearly

  so simple as it once was. As my system grows increasingly pickled, alcohol has

  less and less effect on it. I suppose eventually I shall reach a stage where

  alcohol has no effect on me whatsoever, but I hope and pray I shall have

  departed this sad vale of tears long before then. But whatever you do, Davey,

  don't have me cremated. There's so much booze in my body it would probably burn

  for a fortnight."

  "Don't talk that way," said Holly. "It's depressing."

  "I'm sorry," said Arthur immediately. "How are you feeling now, Holly?"

  "Better, I think." She smiled at him tremulously. "Do you think I could have a

  sip of your drink?"

  "Of course," said Arthur, and handed her his glass. "Approach it carefully; it's

  rather potent."

  Holly took a cautious sip, and then swallowed hard. She pulled a face and thrust

  the glass back at him. "And you drink that stuff for fun? You're tougher than

  you look, Arthur."

  "Why, thank you, my dear. It's nice to be appreciated."

  They shared a smile. David stirred impatiently. "Don't encourage him, Holly. We

  might need his sword yet."

  "If we ever reach the stage where everything depends on me and my poor skill

  with a sword, then we will be in serious trouble," said Arthur calmly. "I have

  all the fighting skills of a depressed rabbit. I never was much of a warrior; I

  always believed in seeing the other fellow's point of view. Preferably over a

  glass of something. No, Davey; if trouble occurs, I have every confidence that

  you will defend us nobly. You're the swordsman here."

  "That's right," said Holly. "You always had to be the hero, David, even when we

  were young. I'd be the captive Princess, and you'd be the valiant hero on his

  milk-white charger, come to rescue me. I always needed saving back then for some

  reason or another."

  "I remember," said Arthur. "I always had to be Davey's squire, even though I was

  the eldest. I didn't mind. My father was furious when he found out, though.

  You're a viscount! he used to thunder. The son of a Lord! Try to act like one! I

  always was a disappointment to Dad." He shrugged, and taking a healthy sip from

  his drink, looked directly at Holly. "They were good days, then. When we were

  young, and the world was so simple."

  "You're getting maudlin, Arthur," said David warningly. He turned to Holly and

  smiled reassuringly. "There's really nothing to worry about, Holly. I'll protect

  you, just as I always have."

  "And I'll do my bit, however small," said Arthur. "I would defend you with my
/>   life, Holly."

  Holly smiled genuinely for the first time, and reached out to clasp each of them

  by the hand. "I feel so safe with you two here. My guardians."

  "They've been gone too long," said Katrina suddenly. "It shouldn't take this

  long to check a few windows. Do you suppose something's happened to them?"

  "It's too early to start panicking," said Fisher. "They haven't been gone an

  hour yet."

  "Is that all?" said Holly. "It seems longer."

  "It's the waiting," said Fisher. "Time always drags when you're waiting for

  something to happen."

  "It still seems too long," said Katrina stubbornly. "I'm sure Jamie didn't

  intend for us to be left alone this long. Something's happened, I'm sure of it.

  I think someone ought to go after them and make sure everything's all right."

  "Don't look at me," said Arthur. "I may be drunk, but I'm not crazy."

  "Damn right," said Fisher. "No one is to go off on their own. It isn't safe."

  "Who the hell do you think you are, giving everyone orders?" said Katrina

  angrily. "Hold your tongue, and remember your place. David, if Arthur hasn't the

  courage to go, I'm sure you'll…"

  "Not this time, Katrina," said David firmly. "For once, I find myself in

  agreement with Arthur. If the freak is roaming about out there, a man on his own

  would make a perfect target. And no, you can't send one of the servants,

  either."

  "Thank you, sir," said Greaves. Brennan grinned.

  Katrina slumped back in her chair and pouted. "So; we just sit here and wait for

  them to come back, do we? What if they never come back?"

  "They'll be back," said Fisher.

  Holly looked at her. "How can we be so sure?"

  Fisher smiled. "I have faith in my brother. We've been through a lot together."

  "Yes," said Katrina darkly. "I'll just bet you have."

  Fisher looked at her with a slightly raised eyebrow, and Katrina decided to go

  back to pouting.

  The trip down through the Tower seemed to take forever. The stairs fell away

  endlessly before them, curling round and round the inner wall. Hawk's thighs

  ached from the strain, and his back ached from the tension of constantly waiting

  for an attack. They were at their most vulnerable on the stairs, and the freak

  must know it. He'd never get a better chance at them. But landing corners came

  and went without an ambush, and doors passed unopened. Hawk's scowl deepened. He

  almost wished the freak would attack and get it over with. But they reached the

  ground floor without incident, and Jamie led the way back to the drawing room.

  Hawk brought up the rear, sword at the ready, his gaze still darting from shadow

  to shadow. He was beginning to wish he hadn't left the sledgehammer up on the

  third floor. Alistair and Marc moved close together, also with swords at the

  ready, almost treading on Jamie's heels. Hawk didn't blame them. It was always

  when you were nearly back to safety that your adrenalin really began to pump. It

  was only then, when you stopped thinking about your mission and started thinking

  about being able to relax and take it easy again that you realized how much you

  had to lose if something were to go wrong at the last moment. He hung back a

  little, giving himself room to move, and swept the surrounding corridor with a

  steady, professional gaze. It wasn't likely the freak would make a move now,

  after turning down so many other, better opportunities, but Hawk wasn't about to

  drop his guard just because safety was so near at hand.

  Jamie reached the drawing room door, banged on it with his fist, and called out

  his name. Marc and Alistair moved in close behind him, staring almost hungrily

  at the door as they listened to the barricade being dismantled. Hawk stood with

  his back to the door, watching the corridor. He looked left and right at random,

  careful not to give any attacker a pattern he could anticipate and elude. There

  was a movement to his right, and he looked sharply round to find Alistair beside

  him, looking slightly sheepish.

  "Must be getting old," said Alistair gruffly. "Forgetting to watch my back, just

  because I'm nearly home. You'd make a good soldier, lad. You've got the right

  instincts. You sure you've never had any training?"

  Hawk cast about for a convincing answer, but was saved by the sound of the

  drawing room door opening. Jamie hurried in, followed by Marc and Alistair. Hawk

  took one last look round the empty corridor, then backed unhurriedly into the

  drawing room. He kicked the door shut and pushed a heavy piece of furniture up

  against it. And then, finally, he put away his sword and allowed himself to

  relax a little.

  Holly and Katrina were taking turns hugging the breath out of Jamie, while David

  and Lord Arthur clapped Marc and Alistair on the shoulder and pumped them for

  details about what they'd found out. Greaves and Robbie Brennan nodded politely

  to Hawk as he put down his lamp, congratulated him on his safe return, and set

  about rebuilding the barricade. Fisher came over to Hawk and offered him a

  brandy, which he accepted gratefully.

  "Any sign of the freak?" she asked quietly.

  "We found his lair, but he was long gone. Jamie's got some documents that should

  fill us in on what the freak actually is. Apart from that, it was pretty much a

  wasted journey. One bit of bad news: There's a good chance the freak is a

  magic-user. We ran into a pretty good illusion spell up around his lair."

  Fisher pursed her lips thoughtfully. "That's all we needed. Did you come across

  anything that might tie in with Fenris?"

  "Not a damn thing. I'm beginning to wonder if we might have been sent on a

  wild-goose chase. I haven't come across anything to suggest Fenris was ever

  here."

  "The circle of sorcerers said they tracked the spy right to Tower MacNeil."

  Hawk sniffed. "I wouldn't trust that lot to cast my horoscope."

  Fisher smiled. "Are you going to tell Commander Dubois that, or shall I?"

  At that point, Jamie launched into an excited, only slightly exaggerated account

  of their journey. Fisher listened skeptically while Hawk enjoyed his brandy. He

  might not know much about vintages, but he knew enough not to waste a chance at

  a good brandy. It wasn't often he could afford the good stuff on a Guard's

  wages. Jamie finally wound up his report, and spread out the papers he'd found

  on one of the larger tables so that everyone could take a look at them. With

  perseverance, and a little discreet elbowing, Hawk and Fisher made sure they got

  places in front of everyone else.

  The pages were faded and cracked, and written in several different hands,

  running from the time of the freak's birth to well after his incarceration. One

  writer was definitely the freak's father. The others could have been anyone,

  from members of the Family to some of the MacNeils' security people. The story

  that finally emerged from the assembled pages was more than a little unsettling.

  The Family could have lived with the physical abnormalities exhibited by the

  freak at birth. Occasional unfortunates were inevitable when the Quality became

  as inbred as it had in Haven. It wasn't until the child grew older that they

  discovered just how inhuman h
e really was. The freak didn't need food or drink;

  he drained the life force out of anyone and anything that came within arm's

  reach of him. At first, no one understood what was happening. When those close

  to the child felt ill and listless, they just put it down to a bug that was

  going around. Then someone gave the freak a puppy for his sixth birthday, and

  the Family watched in horror as he drained the life right out of it. The freak

  laughed delightedly and clapped his hands again and again, glowing with health

  and vitality, while the puppy lay shriveled and still on the carpet.

  After that, the freak was kept in isolation. Poultry and small animals were

  provided to satisfy his "unnatural appetites," but no one save his mother and

  father ever saw him again. And they were always careful to visit him only after

  he'd just been fed. The father spent years searching for a cure, almost

  bankrupting the Family in the process. And then the mother went to visit her son

  one day, and never came back. By the time the household realized she was

  missing, it was far too late. His father found him squatting beside her body,

  singing in her voice. The MacNeil almost fainted with shock when the monstrous

  child addressed him in his dead wife's voice. It seemed he didn't just suck the

  life out of people; he took their memories as well. The freak actually thought

  he was his own mother. For a time…

  The MacNeil finally did what his Family had been begging him to do for years. He

  had a secret room constructed on the third floor, and walled up the freak inside

  it. Since the boy was only ten years old, the MacNeil gave him poison to drink

  first. It didn't work. The freak lived on, draining the strength out of anyone

  who passed by his room. The MacNeil was at his wits' end. Since he'd already

  told everyone the freak was dead, and established his second son as heir, he

  didn't dare go outside the Family for help. So he did the only thing he could.

  He evacuated the Tower, and left it empty long enough to weaken the freak. He

  hoped the freak would die, but it didn't. He could hear it screaming.

  Eventually, he went back inside and made a small opening in the wall. And fed

  his son a rat. He slowly taught the freak to drain only food that was offered,

  and not the person who fed him. It took a long time, but the MacNeil was