Lycanthropic (Book 4): Moon Rise [The Age of the Werewolf]

by Morris, Steve

  The clothing he had worn for the short flight was too thin. He needed warmth. The pilot and co-pilot were dressed in standard army issue one-piece flight suits, made from fire-resistant material. The suits were lightweight, breathable and comfortable. Not only were they fire-resistant, but their thermal properties would also provide excellent insulation against the cold. How he was going to find the strength to strip a suit from one of the men he didn’t know, but it was clear that he must find a way somehow.

  By the time he had covered the short distance back to the helicopter he was exhausted and took another long rest. There was no hurry. He had all the time in the world. He closed his eyes and dozed in the gentle sunshine.

  When he opened his eyes again the sun was high in the sky. He had no idea how it could have moved that far. One thing was certain. He had to get on with his task. He cried out in agony as he hauled himself back up across the nose of the helicopter and into the cockpit. His leg needed more attention, but he had to solve his problems in the right order. Another night in the cold would surely kill him if he didn’t find warmth.

  The pilot was about his size, and he managed to unbuckle him from his seat. Once he had done that, the body of the dead man slumped forward. He had no strength to drag the pilot from the cockpit. Instead, he set about unzipping and unfastening his flight suit, one step at a time. Shoulders, sleeves, torso, legs, feet. The job became harder the closer he came to completing it. He had no idea how long it took to undress the man. Time seemed to have taken on an elastic quality. Hours could pass without him seeming to achieve a thing. But eventually it was done. He pulled the flight suit on over his own clothing, crying out every single time he touched his damaged thigh.

  The next item on his agenda was food. It was already late afternoon and he hadn’t eaten for nearly two days. He had lost nearly half of his blood and was desperately weak. He had to get something inside him before nightfall.

  The pilot had a bag tucked beneath his seat and Griffin pulled it out with a small sense of victory. Opening it, he felt like a child unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. Protein bars. Energy drinks. The temptation was to consume the entire contents in one meal, but he knew he had to ration what little he had found. He ate one of the protein bars and drank half of one drink, then stored the rest away for later. Finally, he crawled back out of the helicopter to refill his water bottle from the running stream.

  He had still not checked his wound, and already darkness had crept across the sky. But at least he had warm clothing, a little food, and he was still alive. Now he was utterly exhausted and he knew that sleep would come to him immediately.

  It was the end of the third day.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gatwick Airport, West Sussex

  The second murder came a couple of days later, and once again Joe and Pamela brought Liz the news, rousing her from a fitful slumber in the early hours of the morning. ‘It’s another young woman,’ Pamela told her, ashen-faced. ‘Over in the main terminal building this time.’

  Liz checked her watch. It was 4:30 am. She’d only just managed to fall asleep. ‘Okay, I’m coming.’

  Drake jumped out of bed too, and shook Vijay and Mihai awake. ‘We’re ready to come with you,’ he told her.

  ‘Run and fetch Doctor Pope from upstairs, then. Tell him it’s another body.’

  Liz dressed quickly, slid the holster containing the Glock around her waist, and followed them all downstairs, out of the hotel and through a covered walkway that led to the airport building itself. The airport hotels had limited capacity, and the bulk of the refugees had been assigned a place in one of the two airport terminals. The south terminal was closest to Liz, and this was where Joe led them now.

  The night was still cold and dark, and Liz glanced nervously around. It was dangerous to be outside during the hours of darkness, especially with a killer on the loose. There were reports of werewolves being spotted beyond the airport fence, but she knew that if any were out there now, she would probably be able to smell them before they came too close. Besides, she had the gun by her side, and wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

  She’d reluctantly drawn a blank with the murder of Hannah Matthews. The truth was that with the door unlocked, anyone might have gained access to the room. None of the other members of Hannah’s family had seen or heard a thing, nor had any of the people Liz had questioned in the hotel building. The murdered woman had not been sexually molested, and nothing had been stolen from her. It appeared to be a motiveless crime. Moreover, Liz’s tools for gathering evidence were extremely limited. She had basically nothing to go on apart from the mysterious method of the murder itself.

  The puncture wounds and bruising around Hannah’s throat were deeply disturbing. No murder weapon had been found, but the size and depth of the two holes, and the lack of blood in the vicinity of the crime scene suggested alarming possibilities to Liz. Was a werewolf at loose within the hotel? Or worse, another vampire? She had surreptitiously sniffed each person she had interviewed, but had detected no trace of wolf.

  Following Doctor Pope’s advice, Scott Matthews had buried his daughter in a small grassy patch of land amongst trees, situated some distance from the hotel. A large number of people had attended the funeral, and a Church of England priest had conducted the ceremony. Liz had watched with mixed feelings of sadness, guilt and trepidation. A killer was still on the loose, and she was nowhere nearer to discovering their identity.

  She hurried into the south terminal now, quizzing Joe and Pamela for as much information about the latest murder as possible.

  ‘The victim was a woman in her early twenties. I don’t know her name,’ said Pamela. ‘But a friend of mine came to tell us. She knew that we’d had a similar crime at the hotel. I said I’d bring you to investigate, since there’s no official police force in the airport.’

  ‘Similar in what way?’ asked Liz, dreading the answer.

  ‘Same manner of death,’ confirmed Pamela. ‘Two holes in the throat.’

  Liz groaned inwardly and adjusted her dark glasses as she entered the south terminal. It was a huge building, many times larger than the hotel. The departure lounge was one vast open space, with a mezzanine level overlooking the main floor. A large glass roof was supported by pillars. It was dark inside, but bright lights flickered where people held up flashlights or candles. The smallest sounds echoed off the hard surfaces, forming a continuous undercurrent of noise like the whispering of the wind in trees.

  ‘Over there,’ said Drake, pointing to the place where a large group of people had gathered.

  Liz pushed her way through to the front of the crowd, followed closely by the others. The murdered woman lay in a sleeping bag, still tightly zipped up.

  Liz showed her warrant card to the onlookers, and the doctor lowered himself to the floor to begin his examination.

  An elderly couple had discovered the body, and they were keen to tell their story. ‘The poor, poor girl,’ said the wife. ‘We only met her a day or two ago. We didn’t know her very well at all.’

  ‘Was it you who discovered the body?’

  ‘No. It was my husband, Frank.’

  ‘I don’t sleep very well any more,’ began the woman’s husband. ‘Especially not in a noisy place like this. Just when I’m almost falling asleep, someone coughs or a baby cries, and I’m back to square one.’

  ‘Can you tell me what you saw?’ asked Liz.

  ‘Well, I was just getting up to use the bathroom –’

  ‘Frank needs to use the bathroom a lot in the night these days,’ interrupted his wife.

  ‘Yes,’ said Frank irritably. ‘And I noticed a dark figure crouching over Chelsea.’

  ‘Chelsea is the name of the deceased?’

  ‘That’s right. We don’t know her surname. She never told us. She was a quiet girl. She kept herself to herself. I don’t think she had any family. At least, we never saw her with anyone.’

  ‘So you saw a dark figure,’ prompted Liz.


  ‘Yes. Leaning over the body on all fours. I didn’t see their face. It was too dark, and I didn’t have my glasses on.’

  ‘A man or a woman?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly say.’

  ‘Big or small?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ asked Liz.

  ‘Well, I started to get to my feet, and suddenly this person was making a bolt for it. He – or she – was very fast. I saw them running away, and then they vanished.’

  ‘Vanished?’

  ‘Well, ran out of the door, I suppose,’ said Frank. ‘That must have been what happened.’

  ‘Frank isn’t sure about that,’ said the man’s wife. ‘He thinks they might have turned invisible and disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Frank crossly. ‘That’s not what I said. It’s just how it looked at the time. I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I didn’t really believe that’s what happened.’

  ‘Into thin air,’ repeated the woman, ignoring him. ‘Like a ghost.’

  ‘Well,’ said Doctor Pope, ‘whoever did this was no ghost. The murder looks very much like the previous one. Two puncture wounds, same depth and separation as before. Once again, a massive loss of blood but very little blood to be found on the victim’s clothing or in the immediate vicinity. I must say, it’s very mysterious.’

  ‘All right,’ said Liz. ‘Let’s start interviewing everyone who was sleeping nearby. Someone must have seen or heard something.’

  With the help of the three boys, she managed to speak to over a hundred people, but none could shed any further light on the murder. No one had seen the mysterious crouching figure, apart from Frank, and now even he was starting to have doubts about what he saw. ‘It might just have been a trick of the light,’ he told Liz at the end of the morning. ‘Perhaps I didn’t really see anyone at all. It was too dark to be certain.’

  She sighed in frustration. A second murder, still no clues, and she hadn’t even managed to grab breakfast yet. Her hunger seemed to be boundless these days. She needed to get something inside her, so that she could think. ‘Can you please go and find me something to eat?’ she said to Drake and Vijay.

  ‘What kind of thing?’ asked Vijay.

  ‘Liz likes meat,’ said Mihai. ‘Any kind, she don’t care. Sausage, bacon, pork chops, barbeque chicken. Let’s go looking.’

  They ran off together in search of food.

  Just then she caught sight of Corporal Jones striding towards her from the other side of the terminal building, two of his men beside him. She recognized Evans and the Dogman, together with his dog, Rock.

  They were really the last people she wanted to meet right now, but there was no escaping them. The dog bared its teeth at her as it drew near, growling quietly. The Dogman held it tightly on a lead. ‘Down boy. Easy.’

  Jones was his usual cheery self. ‘Liz, we thought we might find you here. We heard a rumour about a murder. Thought that might be your kind of thing.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing much for you to see,’ she said. Doctor Pope had finished his examination over an hour earlier, and Liz had authorized the removal of the body. In such a crowded environment it didn’t seem healthy to leave a corpse lying around. The dead woman, Chelsea, had no relatives, and so there seemed no reason not to bury the body later on today. Liz had seen all she needed to. It wasn’t like she could run any forensics.

  ‘I heard this wasn’t the first murder,’ said Jones.

  ‘It’s the second case that’s been reported to me.’

  Rock was still straining on its leash and the Dogman allowed the dog to come closer to her. ‘We heard the victim had bite marks on her neck,’ he said.

  ‘Two puncture wounds,’ corrected Liz. ‘Too deep for human teeth. The doctor says they might have been made by a sharp needle or a similar weapon.’

  ‘Or perhaps by a creature that wasn’t entirely human,’ suggested the Dogman.

  Liz ignored him.

  ‘Have you reported the death to Major Hall yet?’ asked Llewelyn. ‘He has a zero-tolerance policy for any kind of criminal activity, or any rule-breaking, no matter how minor. He’ll certainly want to hear about this.’

  ‘No. I don’t know where to find him.’

  Llewelyn grinned and inclined his head behind her. ‘Maybe not, but I think he knows where to find you.’

  Liz turned and saw another group of soldiers marching her way. Unlike Jones and his men, who wore green berets that matched their camouflage uniforms, the new arrivals wore maroon berets.

  ‘Parachute Regiment,’ muttered Jones, with a mixture of admiration and contempt. ‘They think they’re the bees’ knees.’

  The Welshman had mentioned the paras to Liz before. Despite his grumblings about them, she was certain she detected a strong element of hero worship in his comments.

  Major Hall and his associates strode briskly over to them. Llewelyn and his men immediately jumped to attention and saluted the commanding officer. Major Hall stood with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘At ease, men,’ he said.

  He offered no handshake for Liz, but instead stood silently surveying her. She returned his stare. Major Hall was very tall and broad-chested. He was aged around forty, wore aviator-style sunglasses that almost completely hid his eyes, and had hair shorn so short it was impossible to tell its colour. He stood at least an inch above his fellow officers and men, and was so heavily built he made them look puny by comparison.

  ‘I’ve heard reports of a suspicious death,’ he told Liz. ‘Are you the investigating officer?’

  Liz was glad she was still wearing her police uniform. It gave her an immediate authority. ‘Police Constable Liz Bailey. Since nobody seems to be operating in an official capacity here, I was asked to investigate. The woman was murdered. I’m taking witness statements.’

  Major Hall didn’t query her right to be conducting the investigation. ‘I understand that the cause of death was … unusual.’

  ‘Wounding to the neck,’ said Liz uncomfortably.

  ‘And this is the second such death?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What’s your working theory? Do you have any suspects yet?’

  ‘I’m following up a number of leads,’ she lied.

  The Major offered her a faint smile. ‘I’ll leave the investigation in your capable hands. Let me know when you’ve found the guilty party. I’ll arrange for his execution myself.’ He turned on his heel to leave.

  ‘Wait, what?’ said Liz.

  The Major spun back to face her. ‘You heard me, Constable Bailey. Execution. I’ll tolerate no criminal behaviour of any kind under my command. None whatsoever. And murder is punishable by death, in my opinion. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.’

  Liz grew suddenly hot under her heavy uniform. She drew herself up to her full height, almost level with Major Hall’s wide chest. ‘With respect, sir, your opinion is irrelevant. People have rights. Just because the country is in a state of emergency, it doesn’t mean that the rule of law no longer holds. When I find out who did this, they will have to be given a fair trial, and punished appropriately.’

  The faint smile on the Major’s face had been replaced with an ugly, threatening scowl. ‘The rule of law that holds within this camp is whatever I decide. I keep the peace here. These people are under my protection, and I will not permit them to be harmed.’ He turned and gestured toward the glass doors and windows along the edge of the terminal building. ‘The area surrounding this airport is lawless territory. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there? The government has fallen. Military command has been devolved down to field commanders like myself. The police force, as you know, is non-existent, apart from you, apparently. And lycanthropes are roaming wild beyond the fence. If it were not for the vigilance and bravery of my men, those animals would already have overrun this camp. I will not allow anyone to threaten the security of this facility from within.’

  He turned away
from her, then turned back. ‘And Constable Bailey, allow me to let you into a little secret. Just between the two of us. I absolutely hate lycanthropes. I have a personal grudge against them. I have lost good friends and colleagues to them. Let me be entirely clear, so that there is no possibility of any misunderstanding between us. If your investigation leads you to even suspect anyone inside this camp of being lycanthropic, you will report them to me, and I will execute that individual myself. I am not a judge in a court of law, and I do not require evidence beyond reasonable doubt. Is that clear?’

  He marched away without waiting for a response, his men following in his wake.

  ‘Well, he seemed pretty clear about that,’ remarked Jones. ‘I like a man who knows his own mind.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ said Liz. ‘The arrogance of the man. He has no right to execute anyone, whatever he might think.’

  ‘I think he makes a good point,’ said the Dogman, staring hard at Liz as if he suspected her of being the murderer herself. Perhaps he did. ‘This wasn’t the work of a human killer. Anyone can see that.’

  Rock growled quietly at his side, hackles raised, not taking his eyes from Liz.

  She recalled that Rock had instantly gone berserk in the presence of a family of werewolves, even though they were in human form. If there was a werewolf hiding somewhere in the camp, surely they would have been detected? Rock certainly wasn’t the only dog on patrol here.

  The other soldier, Evans, kept his gaze on Liz too, and his hand on his rifle, as if expecting her to suddenly grow long teeth and leap at somebody’s throat.

  Only Llewelyn seemed relaxed. ‘They’re ruthless bastards, the paras,’ he remarked thoughtfully, gazing in the direction of the exit that Major Hall and his men had taken. ‘Always have been. Always will be. But they never fail to get the job done.’