Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood

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Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood Page 15

by Morris, Steve


  Melanie raised an eyebrow and hopped into the elevator, stabbing at the Lobby button. It could go either way now. Fifty-fifty. She’d never been this close to getting caught before, and the buzz was quite exhilarating. The soft, quick pad of bare feet on expensive carpet grew steadily louder as she waited for the doors to close.

  He was still shouting. The maid was still screaming. Melanie wondered what she would say if caught. There were still plenty of options available to a woman like her.

  The doors closed just before he arrived. She heard his muted cry of anguish as the elevator began to descend. She would need to move quickly now. It might be only minutes before he was on the phone to his bank. Maybe she should have taken his phone after all. But he had a lot of cards to cancel. It would take him a while.

  When she arrived at the lobby she stepped out casually and headed for the nearest way out. She smiled at a porter and waited patiently while an old lady struggled with the revolving door at the exit.

  A breathless shout came from behind her. ‘Stop thief!’

  No, surely not. But yes, he had followed her down the stairs, still in his birthday suit. The day was turning into more fun than she could possibly have imagined.

  She didn’t wait to see how far he would get before hotel security stopped him. Running in heels was an entry-level requirement for a woman in Melanie’s profession. Five minutes later she was already trying on a diamond necklace with matching earrings.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Manor Road Secondary School, South London

  Ben Harvey stood at the front of the classroom, regarding what remained of his Year 10 Biology class with a sense of dismay. The front row of desks was empty, and the back too. Almost half the class was missing for one reason or other. Some mystery illness was doing the rounds of the school, but that alone didn’t account for all the empty chairs.

  Jamie Jones and Max Thompson were still missing from home. It had been weeks now. Their parents must be worried sick. The same with Lee Small.

  Now Ashley Brown had vanished.

  It was too much of a coincidence. The wild talk of the Beast and the Ripper had made everyone jump to obvious conclusions, but Ben still took hope from the fact that no bodies had been found. Yet.

  And now Vijay Singh and Drake Cooper were off school too. No one knew why. Apparently they’d been sent to Mr Canning for fighting last week, and nobody had seen them since. He couldn’t imagine a boy like Vijay ever getting into a fight.

  Teachers were off sick too, and he was having to cover more and more classes. That’s why he’d been late getting to his class on Friday, when Vijay, Drake and Ash had been caught fighting. He blamed himself for being late to the class, but such things were almost unavoidable when resources were stretched to breaking point. His evening workload of marking and prep was growing week by week too. He was desperately looking forward to the Christmas break and two weeks to rest and catch up with his workload.

  At least Rose Hallibury was back today after her terrifying ordeal at the kennels, although she still seemed traumatized, and had barely spoken a word. It was hardly surprising.

  The only upside was that with a smaller class size, and some of the biggest mischief-makers absent, he was starting to make some real progress with the remaining kids. Unlike some of his colleagues, Ben Harvey didn’t believe that the kids at Manor Road were unteachable. They just needed the right environment and stimulation. Unfortunately, they mostly had the wrong environment and little or no stimulation or parental support.

  He pointed at the image on the whiteboard. ‘So, to recap, who can tell me what a gene is?’

  Gemma Morley shot up her hand. ‘Please, Sir, it’s a section of DNA that can be copied and passed from one generation to the next.’

  ‘Good. And what is a chromosome?’

  Tom Daniels answered this time. ‘Sir, it’s a long thread of DNA containing many genes.’

  ‘Excellent. Final question for today. What does epigenetic mean?’

  To Ben’s surprise and delight it was Holly Brady who raised her hand to answer. It wasn’t that Holly was quiet and shy – quite the opposite – but that her interests normally didn’t stray far from TV soap stars and social media gossip. ‘Mr Harvey, Sir, it means that genes can be switched on or off by their environment. That means that the environment determines how people and animals behave, not just their genes.’

  ‘Very good, Holly,’ he said, and received a beaming smile in return. Unwittingly, Holly had demonstrated the truth of the matter. In the classroom, just as in life, outcomes were never pre-determined. Just because Holly had known almost nothing about Biology when she’d started that term, didn’t mean that she couldn’t learn if taught in the right way. When nature battled nurture, environment was always the deciding factor, not the raw material of DNA.

  The end-of-class bell rang and he watched the kids stampede out through the door.

  His own life demonstrated the principle clearly. With a good degree from a top university he could have chosen to do anything. His fellow graduates had gone into well-paid jobs in pharmaceuticals and medical research, or had retrained for finance, law and marketing jobs. He could have done that too. But he’d chosen a more difficult path, opting to teach in a deprived inner-city school. It so often felt like life was determined to see him fail at that. And if all the odds were stacked against him, how could he ever realistically hope to change the course of these young people’s lives?

  He wondered what advice he would give to his younger self. Don’t fool yourself you can ever make a difference, perhaps.

  Yet on days like this, he knew that he could.

  Some better advice for the youthful Ben Harvey then: hold on to your dreams with all your heart.

  He was tidying away his books and papers for the day when he heard a commotion from the corridor outside. Kids started shouting and screaming, running past the open door of his classroom. ‘Hey!’ he called, but they took no notice.

  Wearily he walked over to the doorway and stepped into the corridor.

  It was bedlam.

  He had expected to see a few loudmouths causing trouble, but instead dozens of children surged along the corridor, sweeping past him in obvious distress. Holly Brady came racing toward him, her mouth open in a scream. He caught hold of her arm as she passed. ‘Holly, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.’

  She looked at him in terror, before coming to her senses. ‘It’s the Headmaster, Sir. He’s gone berserk!’

  ‘Mr Canning gone berserk? What do you mean?’

  She shook her head mutely and he let her go.

  He turned to face the onrushing crowd. They were certainly coming in the direction from the Head’s office. But why? It was hard to imagine anyone less berserk than stuffy old Mr Canning.

  Mr Johnson, the sports teacher, lumbered into view. Ben grabbed him. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  The teacher looked as terrified as the children. He tried to pull away but Ben held him firm. ‘Pull yourself together! You have a duty of care toward these children.’

  Mr Johnson shook his head. ‘The Headmaster’s gone mad. He’s on a rampage. Now let me go!’ He struggled in Ben’s grip, but Ben clung on.

  ‘You’ve got to stay and help,’ he shouted at the man.

  Mr Johnson shook his head again. He swore at Ben and aimed a sharp kick at his shin.

  ‘Ow!’ Ben released him with a jolt. ‘You coward!’ he shouted as the teacher disappeared down the corridor.

  The tech support nerd, Chris Crohn, stumbled along the corridor, panic-stricken and out of breath. Ben considered stopping him to get him to help, but the guy looked like he’d be as much use in an emergency as a pre-schooler. Ben let him hurry past.

  Another teacher pushed his way through the crowd toward him. It was Brian Lee, who taught Physics. ‘Ben, what on earth’s happening?’

  ‘It’s Mr Canning. I think he’s attacked some children.’

  ‘What are we going to do?�
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  ‘Come on,’ said Ben. ‘Let’s go and find him.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Upper Terrace, Richmond upon Thames, West London

  Melanie Margolis showed the ill-gotten proceeds of her day’s work to her sister, Sarah. Her shopping spree in London’s West End had been cut short rather rudely, but Melanie had made sure she’d scored big before the stolen credit cards got cancelled.

  ‘Nice,’ said Sarah, running the thread of diamonds through her fingers and watching how the stones split the white light into rainbows. ‘What was this one like?’

  ‘The guy? Married, but kind of cute. You won’t believe what happened though. He came running after me with no clothes on.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘All the way down the stairs and into the hotel lobby.’

  ‘Without a stitch on? You’re right. I hardly believe anything you tell me.’

  Melanie stuck her tongue out at her sister. ‘I swear it’s true. He came this close to catching me.’ She held up her thumb and forefinger to show how close. ‘On days like this I think that you have the easy job.’

  ‘Not easy,’ said Sarah. ‘But safe. You should lie low for a week. You got a good haul. There’s no point taking unnecessary risks.’

  ‘You know I can’t help myself. Unnecessary risks are what I live for. And you and Grandpa, of course.’ She hugged her sister. ‘How has he been today?’

  ‘The same. I don’t think he knows who I am anymore.’

  ‘Let’s go and see him.’

  ‘He’s asleep.’

  ‘I want to see him anyway.’

  Sarah led the way down the hallway to Grandpa’s room. The house was an old Georgian terrace, big enough for a large family. When they were little, it had been bursting with noise and life. Now just the three of them lived there.

  Grandpa had lived in the same house for most of his adult life, watching his children and grandchildren grow up around him. Now the old man was bed-ridden, and never left the one room. His mind was trapped in a single room too, a prisoner of Alzheimer’s. The dementia had advanced slowly, slamming shut first one door, then another, until only a tiny corner of his original self remained to him. Where the rest had gone, no one could say.

  He lay just as Melanie had seen him that morning, snoring gently, a serene look on his crumpled face. The fear would grip him when he woke.

  ‘Has he eaten today?’ Melanie asked her sister.

  ‘A little. I made some vegetable soup for lunch, and he managed a bowl of that.’

  ‘He’s getting weaker, though, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. He sleeps more and more. But I think that’s for the best.’

  Melanie gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. They were twins, but not alike, neither in looks nor in temperament. Sometimes they fought bitterly, like any sisters. But they were still a team.

  The old man’s eyelids flickered gently and his left hand stirred.

  Melanie leaned closer to him. ‘Grandpa? Are you awake?’

  The age-mottled hand began to shake and move in agitation. His lips formed soundless words.

  ‘Can you hear me, Grandpa? It’s me, Melanie.’

  He opened his eyes, and they were filled with terror and confusion. The shake in his hand spread up his arm, and he began to blabber.

  She rubbed his arm soothingly with her fingers. ‘It’s Melanie, Grandpa. Melanie and Sarah.’

  ‘Barbara?’ he asked. ‘Is Barbara here?’

  ‘No, just Melanie and Sarah.’

  ‘Barbara,’ repeated the old man. He seemed to stare right through her. Barbara had been dead for twenty years, but perhaps she lived still, in some walled-off compartment of his mind.

  He fell quiet as she stroked his arm, breathing deeply and calmly, his eyes still fixed on some distant vision. His left hand continued to move, as if it had its own private life to lead.

  ‘Are you sure you can manage him on your own?’ Melanie asked Sarah. ‘I honestly don’t know how you do it, day after day.’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘And I don’t know how you do your job.’

  ‘One of us needs to earn some money,’ said Melanie. ‘Besides, what else could I do? Become a nurse, or a teacher? Perhaps an astronaut?’

  ‘You’ll have to find something else to do eventually. Looks don’t last forever.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me, darling. But by then, I intend to retire to the beach at Monte Carlo.’

  ‘You’d be better off settling down with someone nice. I don’t know what you see in some of these men.’

  ‘I see their credit cards, Sarah,’ snapped Melanie. They had talked this over a thousand times. Her sister had never approved of Melanie’s way of earning a living. ‘What’s so hard to understand? I do it for you, you know that. For you and Grandpa. You might show some gratitude.’

  Her sister winced. ‘You’re better than this, Mel. You could have any man you wanted. You ought to have stuck with that nice teacher you dated. What was his name?’

  ‘Ben. Ben Harvey,’ admitted Melanie reluctantly. That was all in the past now. Melanie had been horrible to him, something he’d hardly deserved.

  ‘He was cute, wasn’t he?’

  One of the nicest men she’d known, but Melanie was hardly going to admit that to her sister now. ‘Cute doesn’t pay the bills, Sarah. He was a Biology teacher at a run-down South London school. What kind of future would we have had together?’

  ‘He really liked you. I liked him too, or at least what you told me about him.’

  ‘You never even met him, Sarah. I wanted to bring him here, but you said no. You never see anyone these days, apart from me and Grandpa. All you know about the outside world is what I tell you. When was the last time you even went out of the house?’ It seemed that turning the argument against Sarah was easier than facing up to any hard truths herself. Melanie knew she could be a real bitch at times. She didn’t deserve a sister like Sarah, and she hadn’t deserved Ben Harvey either.

  Her sister looked startled by the question. She began to fidget with her fingers. ‘I don’t need to go outside,’ she protested. ‘I manage perfectly well having groceries and things delivered to the house. Anyway, I couldn’t possibly go out and leave Grandpa alone. Anything might happen.’

  ‘You know that’s just an excuse.’ The truth was that Sarah had become too frightened of other people to go outside. It was more than fear, it was a full-blown phobia. She hadn’t left the house in months. She refused to let anyone visit. She no longer had any friends. Melanie pointed a finger at her. ‘You need to face up to your problem before you start lecturing me about how to live my life.’

  ‘Stop it,’ begged Sarah. ‘Don’t be so mean. You know how strangers scare me.’

  Melanie should stop, but she just couldn’t help herself. ‘Well it’s just as well I don’t bring any of my men home then. Some of them are quite appalling. Even that nice teacher Ben Harvey would terrify you.’

  Sarah said nothing to that, just looked upset. That was how Sarah was. She never fought back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Melanie. She hated herself when she picked on her sister. Just as she’d been a bitch to Ben, she always seemed to hurt the people she loved most. Perhaps that was why she spent so much time with people she didn’t love at all.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Sarah. ‘And you’re right. I should try to get out.’ She nodded her head. ‘I’ll try,’ she promised. ‘It’s just that ...’

  ‘What?’ Melanie could tell something else was bothering her sister. She always could. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, more gently. ‘What’s this all about, really?’

  ‘The police found another body. It was all over the news today.’

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘It was down by the river. Half-eaten, like the others.’ Sarah looked her directly in the eyes. ‘It’s too dangerous for you to carry on. The Ripper’s still out there, Mel. Or a copycat killer, some kind of monster. You put yourself at too much risk.’
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  Melanie laughed it off. ‘There are lots of risks in my job, but being eaten by a monster isn’t one of them. There’s more chance I’ll choke to death over a Michelin-star meal, or be battered by a jealous wife’s designer handbag in a crime passionnel.’

  Sarah didn’t look satisfied.

  ‘Look, I’ll be careful, all right? But don’t tell me not to take risks. Taking risks is what lets me know I’m still alive.’

  She dropped her gaze again to Grandpa’s wasted body. He seemed to have retreated into a world of sleep and memories once more. One thing Melanie knew for certain was that she would never allow herself to live like that.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Manor Road Secondary School, South London

  Together, Ben Harvey and Brian Lee strode purposefully down the school corridor toward the Headmaster’s office. The crowd of panicked children had dwindled to a few stragglers now and they made good progress.

  ‘What are we going to do when we find him?’ asked Mr Lee. ‘Do you have a weapon?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Ben.

  ‘Then if talking doesn’t work, I guess we’re going to have to use our hands.’

  They turned down the side corridor that led to Mr Canning’s office, questions racing through Ben’s mind. He didn’t like any of the answers that presented themselves.

  As soon as they rounded the corner, it was obvious that talking wasn’t going to be the answer. A pool of blood stained the floor of the corridor scarlet. Bloody footprints and a trail of red led from there to the end of the corridor, where the Headmaster crouched outside the door to his office, more blood smeared over his face and hands and dripping from his chin. Ben had never seen so much blood in his life. No one could lose so much and still live.

  The body of a girl lay prostrate on the floor beside the Headmaster. There was no doubt in Ben’s mind that the girl was dead. The Head was chewing something, and Ben had a horrible idea what it might be.

  ‘Good God,’ said Brian Lee. He looked like he was going to be sick.

 

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