The Wolfstone Curse

by Justin Richards

  He looked straight at it, facing his fear. And at the exact same moment, the wolf looked back at Peter.

  No way could he reach the bookcase now it had seen him. He’d been stupid to think he could. Instead he leaped to his feet and raced for the door. He tried to shout for help, but all that came out was a howl of fear.

  The wolf was running alongside him. Keeping pace. Between Peter and the window, red eyes staring malevolently, hungrily back at him as he ran.

  A shape in the doorway. A figure.

  He tried to shout a warning, but he hadn’t the breath.

  Carys stepped into the room. She was holding a gun. Raising it. Aiming.

  But not at the wolf. She was aiming it right at Peter. He skidded to a halt, shaking his head. Shouting at her that it was him. Shoot the wolf instead. But his voice was drowned out by the roar of the creature.

  The sound of the shot was like an explosion in the back of Peter’s brain. He felt the savage sting of pain in his shoulder and fell backwards.

  Reflected in the window, the wolf mirrored his movements.

  And the moment the world went black, Peter realised that he had not seen the creature at all. He’d seen only shadows and reflections. Shadows and reflections of himself.

  * * *

  Carys lowered the gun. It slipped from her numbed fingers and fell to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her whole body shaking with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

  She sank to her knees beside the body of the creature she had shot. Carys hugged Peter’s body to her, rocking slowly back and forth as she wept.

  Burning silver. It cut into Peter’s wrists and ankles where he was shackled to the wall. The chains rattled and clanked as he fought to be free of them. But it was no use.

  “Grandfather tried for decades to escape from those, and he never succeeded.”

  His head was pounding. His vision blurred. He felt like he had the most almighty hangover.

  “Carys?”

  The word came out as a roar of pain and anguish.

  Then he felt something soothing. Cold and wet, close to his shoulder. His upper arm burned almost as much as the where the silver manacles touched his skin.

  “Don’t get your hopes up.” Another voice – Faye Seymour, close to Peter. She was bathing the top of his arm. “We may be too late, but I think he’s responding.”

  His vision slowly cleared. The stark, bare light of the cellar was blinding but gradually he was able to see. His head sagged forwards on his chest and he looked down at the stone floor. Down along his own body.

  And he screamed.

  A howl of anger and fear.

  “What’s happened to me?” he gasped. The words were barely recognisable.

  “The injection that woman Irena gave you,” Carys said. She was standing close in front of him, her face streaked with tears. “I thought we’d got the poison out. There must be some still in there, and then when the moonlight…” She turned away, the words choked off.

  Peter stared at her, willing her to turn back, to let him see her face. Even if she couldn’t bear to look at his.

  “This wolf’s blight poultice should draw the poison out,” Carys’s mother said. “If we’re not too late. The moon isn’t really full until tomorrow night. There’s a chance, if you weren’t changed for too long and there isn’t much poison in your system…”

  Another figure stepped into his field of vision. “We won’t give up on you,” Peter’s dad said. “Just stay with us. We’ll get through this.”

  He felt his father take his hand – and Dad’s own hand seemed so small and weak.

  The pub was closed. Faye had put up signs outside the car park and let the regulars know that she was taking time out to get her father-in-law settled in the care home.

  So the only people sitting round one of the tables in the bar were Abby, Mike and Janey from the Lupine Sanctuary. Carys brought them coffee.

  “Mum’s making breakfast,” she said as she put the tray of mugs down. “She says it’s best to keep busy.” She’d also told Carys to leave Peter and his father alone. It wouldn’t help, she’d said, having Carys moping about down there with them and getting in the way.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Mike said.

  “Which bit of it?” Abby asked.

  “Any of it. The whole thing’s bizarre.”

  Janey thanked Carys for the coffee. “How is he? I mean…” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I mean, actually.”

  “Mum gave him a drink made from infused wolf’s blight. It looks like he’s over the worst of it.”

  “Wolf’s blight tea?” Mike made a face. “How’s Matthew bearing up?”

  “His son’s a werewolf,” Abby said. “How do you think he’s bearing up?”

  Janey shook her head in disbelief. “I just don’t understand what’s happening here. I mean, I work with wolves – but this is something else.”

  “It’s a good job you were here,” Abby said.

  “Carys called me.”

  “I was worried about Peter,” she explained. “I mean, I thought – I hoped – he was all right. But it seemed sensible to ask Janey to bring a tranquiliser gun. Just in case.”

  “I nearly didn’t. I wasn’t convinced by your story about seeing a wolf. I checked and were none missing from the sanctuary.”

  “How can you be sure?” Mike asked.

  “They’re microchipped. I’ve got an app link to the GPS system which shows where each of our wolves is. I brought my laptop too, to show you and put your mind at rest,” she told Carys. “If only it’d been that easy.”

  “Well, like Abby says – thank God you came.” Mike grinned. “Otherwise we’d be fighting poor Peter off with a replica arrow.”

  “With what?” Carys asked.

  “Mike’s made a replica of the arrows we found at the circle,” Abby said. “He’s annoyingly proud of it.”

  “It’s very good,” Mike protested. “With a silver head and everything. Well, let’s face it – it’d be that or a broken crystal sword.”

  “A what?” Janey said.

  “Long story,” Carys said quickly. “It’s an antique relic that Professor Crichton brought back with him. It’s all connected. Somehow.”

  “Right. Sounds like the tranquiliser gun is your best bet then.”

  “If we can hang on to it,” Carys said. “It looks like Peter’s on the mend. Mum thinks he’s over the worst and the effect shouldn’t be permanent. But if he has some sort of relapse – I mean, it’s a full moon tonight.”

  “No problem.” Janey drained her coffee. “God knows what I’ll tell Josh – or Eddie, it’s his gun after all. He’s the vet. Oh – hang on!”

  “What?

  “I just thought. I didn’t bring any spare darts. I didn’t think you really needed it. But there’s a full box at the sanctuary.” She stood up, then sat down again. “I’m so tired. I need to sleep for a week. But I’ll get you those darts.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Carys said. “I’m only in the way here. I think Mum will be glad to be rid of me.”

  “Well, I’ll be glad of the company,” Janey said.

  It was later than Carys had realised. She wished she’d waited to grab some breakfast before setting off. But Janey was obviously keen to get home – where she could get some sleep and pretend the events of the previous night never happened.

  But Carys couldn’t get them out of her head. Couldn’t stop blaming herself. She’d got Peter into this, and now… She just hoped and prayed he would be all right.

  She stared out of the car window, barely listening to Janey. They passed the turning to the Wolfstone Circle, and the entrance to the abandoned housing development. The diggers and earth-movers were stark silhouettes against the grey morning sky. With Forrest dead, Carys thought, they’d probably never be used now.

  On the other side of the road, they drove past the overgrown drive that led to Wolfstone Manor. The house itsel
f was just out of sight, over the brow of the hill. But Carys thought she caught a glimpse of another car disappearing down the driveway.

  “There have been a few cars down there the last couple of days,” Janey said, glancing out of the window to follow Carys’s gaze. “Maybe they’re finally starting to renovate the old place.”

  “Maybe,” Carys said. She doubted it.

  They pulled up next to a mud-spattered Audi outside the sanctuary.

  “Looks like Josh is here,” Janey said. “I’ll tell him I’m bunking off for the day. He won’t mind – I’ve covered for him often enough.”

  Carys waited outside while Janey went to find the box of darts. She wondered what, if anything, she’d tell her boss. The wolves were pacing up and down in their enclosures, as if they sensed a tension in the air. From somewhere came a muffled howl that sent a shiver down Carys’s spine.

  The main doors opened at last. But it was Josh not Janey who emerged from the centre. He caught sight of Carys and frowned. She gave a wave, and he waved back.

  Josh was younger than Janey, maybe in his early thirties and dressed for “management” rather than looking after animals. His dark hair was receding, but he tried to hide that by combing it forward.

  “Janey didn’t tell me you were here,” Josh said. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets. The mud spattered down the front of his grey suit matched the state of his car.

  “I’m not stopping.”

  He nodded. “Yeah – sounds like you’ve had quite a night of it.”

  “Sorry?” What had Janey told him?

  “It all sounds incredible. Wolf-men, silver arrows, crystal swords. Must have been quite a party.”

  He smiled indulgently, and Carys realised that whatever Janey had said, Josh didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “I’ve got things to do. Can’t hang around here.” He turned to head off towards the enclosures.

  “Where’s Janey?” Carys called after him.

  “I think she’s making a cup of tea.”

  That didn’t seem likely, but it might be what Janey had told Josh. Fed up with waiting, Carys headed into the building.

  The lights were off and it was gloomy inside. Muddy footprints trailed across the floor to the door. Carys wiped her hands together – there was mud on the door handle too.

  “Janey?”

  No answer.

  She called again, louder. “Janey – where are you? Do you need a hand?”

  Still no answer. Outside the wolves were getting excited, calling to each other. She saw several of them run past the window. Instinctively, she felt for the light switch, and the hallway was bathed in stark white light.

  The dark mess on the floor wasn’t mud. It was bright red.

  Carys took a startled step backwards, hands to her face.

  Red hands. From the bloodied door handle.

  She stifled a scream. “Janey?”

  Somehow, she forced herself to walk through the centre, following the footsteps. There must have been an accident. Or maybe something had been spilled. Something red. Something that definitely wasn’t blood and didn’t make the air taste stale and metallic.

  Janey was in the staff room. She was leaning back in one of the easy chairs.

  “Oh thank God!” Carys hurried over to her. “I thought–”

  Her voice caught, becoming a shuddering cry of horror. The woman’s throat had been ripped away. Blood ran stickily down the remains of her neck and dripped into the growing pool on the floor.

  Carys edged backwards, away from the bloodied mess that was all that remained of Janey Donovan. Her foot caught on something and she cried out, spinning round. She slipped on the slick red floor, and almost fell. She’d knocked into a plastic box. Inside Carys saw small tranquiliser darts, their ends enclosed in clear covers. She grabbed it, trying to ignore the red spatter across the lid.

  What now? She had to get away. But who could have done this? The wolves? They were in their enclosures outside. Except…

  Except she’d seen several run past the window. And there were no enclosures on that side of the centre.

  She looked round, hardly daring to breath. Whatever had been here was gone now. Leaving just a bloody trail to the main doors.

  The main doors – where Josh had come from. Josh, with his hands in his pockets and mud down his suit.

  Janey’s keys were lying on the table beside her. Like she’d put them down while talking to someone – someone she hadn’t expected to rip the life out of her moments later. Carys snatched up the keys, and ran.

  Not towards the main doors, but out to the back. There was a door that came out by the main enclosure. The top half of the door was a single glass panel, and through it she saw that the enclosure was empty. The heavy metal security gate was wide open – the wolves were out.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Carys spun round, clutching the box of darts to her chest. She didn’t care that she was wiping blood down her top. All her attention was on Josh as he walked slowly towards her. His hands were out of his pockets now. He spread them out in front of him, perhaps to show he meant her no harm. Or perhaps to show her how stained with death they were.

  “I only ask,” he said, “because there’s nowhere to go. Except to hell.”

  Or maybe he had his hands out like that to show her the ring he was wearing. Slowly, Josh flipped open the top of the ring, and the moonlight trapped in the sliver of crystal inside spilled out.

  “Doesn’t do to keep it open too long.” His voice was already changing, deepening, becoming an inarticulate growl.

  “Afraid you might use it up?” Carys tried to sound defiant, but even to her own ears she was just a frightened kid.

  “Moonlight will never be used up,” Josh snarled. “But it can use you up, if you don’t respect it.” He snapped the ring shut – no longer a man in a stained suit, but a wolf in man’s clothing. The cuffs of the jacket tore under the strain as he reached out towards Carys. Buttons from his shirt scattered across the floor. Hungry saliva dripped on top of Janey’s blood.

  Carys turned and ran. He’d said there was nowhere to go, but he was wrong. She turned sideways, throwing her arms up in front of her face as she leaped. One hand gripped the box of darts, the other had Janie’s keys held tight. Her shoulder crashed into the glass at the top of the door. It exploded outwards.

  She tumbled through, catching her leg, hitting the ground hard. It knocked the breath out of her, but Carys didn’t stop. She rolled to her feet and ran.

  At any moment she expected a wolf to come at her. But no one and nothing seemed to be behind her. Why wasn’t Josh following?

  No time to worry about that. Carys sprinted along the side of the building, heading back round to the car park. She glanced through the window as she ran – and saw the upright wolf that was Josh running alongside her. Even though he was inside the building. He knew where she was heading, and he was taking the shortest route to Janey’s car.

  Lungs bursting, Carys forced herself to go even faster. She fumbled with the keys. The car was unlocked, but she had to get inside it.

  There was an explosion of sound from behind her. A roar of anger and triumph as Josh crashed out of the main doors. Carys was ahead of him – just. She ripped open the driver’s door and threw herself inside, pulling the door shut behind her.

  There was a yelp of pain as the door closed on a massive hairy paw. Carys kept pulling, but the paw was trapped, so the door couldn’t close. Instead, she opened the door, then slammed it as hard as she could.

  She heard the crunch of breaking bones above the scream of pain. Opened the door again – just enough to let Josh instinctively pull out his injured paw before she slammed it shut properly and hit the central locking. She jammed the key into the ignition.

  The windscreen crazed as the full weight of the creature smashed into it.

  The engine roared into life as the creature roared at its fractured view of Carys. She
reversed quickly, Josh rolling off the bonnet of the car. Then slammed the gears into first. Gravel spun out from the wheels as they got a grip.

  The car shot forward – right into the Josh creature. The front bumper crunched into him, sending him flying. Carys kept driving and hit him again as he rolled across the ground. This time, he didn’t get up.

  Carys reversed away, spinning the car round in the small car park before driving out and back onto the lane beyond. Across the fields, she could see dark shapes bounding across the grass, heading for the woods close to the manor.

  Peter was sprawled out on a bench seat in the bar. His head was pounding and he was tired as hell. But the fever seemed to have abated and he was definitely feeling better. A poultice of wolf’s blight and other herbs and remedies was strapped to his arm with surgical tape under his shirt. He could feel a gentle tugging sensation as though it was still drawing out the poison. The feeling was like a splinter gripped between tweezers.

  “How are you feeling?” Dad asked for about the sixtieth time in the last hour.

  Peter just nodded. He didn’t have time to tell him that he was fine, because the door of the bar slammed open and Carys ran in.

  “The wolves…” she gasped. “The wolves are running…”

  A few minutes later, hands gripped tight round a mug of strong tea, Carys finished her story. They sat in silence, numbed with disbelief.

  “Poor Janey,” Abby murmured.

  “It’s my fault,” Carys blurted. “I got her into this. I got her killed.”

  Her mother put an arm round her shoulders. “It isn’t your fault. Don’t you believe that for one moment. None of it is your fault. Janey was already caught up in all this, even if she didn’t know it herself.”

  “But – she…”

  “We can’t help her now,” Mike said gently.

  “So where are the wolves going?” Professor Crichton asked. “To the manor?”