The Wolfstone Curse

by Justin Richards

  “And why?” Abby asked. “Why let the wolves out at all?”

  “They must be needed for something,” Mike said. “This Josh gave them a job to do.”

  “But why now?” Abby insisted.

  Peter had struggled upright. He hauled himself to his feet and went over to join them.

  “Hey,” Carys said, smiling weakly.

  “Hey.” He managed to smile back. “You said Janey told Josh what happened last night. What she said must have scared him into action.”

  “Whatever happened, we need to know where the wolves are,” Crichton said.

  “Janey would know,” Peter said.

  Carys stared at him. “Of course she would.”

  “I’m sorry, I just meant…”

  “No, no – you’re right.”

  “But Janey’s…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He still couldn’t believe it. Despite everything else he’d seen, Janey had seemed so ordinary. “We should tell someone. Call the police.”

  “Like they’d believe us,” Mike said. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and took out his lighter. “What?” he said round the cigarette as he caught Abby’s expression. He sighed, and stuffed the lighter and cigarette back in his pocket.

  “They’d probably arrest Carys just for being there,” Crichton said.

  Carys had taken out a bunch of keys. “Janey’s laptop’s still in the car.”

  There was a password on Janey’s computer. But it was written on a Post-it note stuck inside the laptop bag.

  “JANEY123,” Peter said, typing it in. “Nothing like being obvious.”

  “We’re lucky she wrote it down though,” Dad said. “It’s only obvious when you know.”

  “Can you find the software that maps where the wolves are?” Mike asked.

  “This could be it…”

  They all gathered round, staring at the small screen as a map appeared.

  “Well, it knows where we are,” Abby said. “There’s the circle, look. And the main road through the village. The church.”

  Peter checked through the various menus. “This must be how you do it.” He clicked on a choice that said, “Locate Targets”.

  “That’s no good, it wants code numbers,” Mike said. “We don’t know them.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Carys said. She pointed to a button further down the window. “Click on “Locate All”.”

  As soon as Peter clicked, a pattern of red blobs appeared on the map. They were moving slowly, in a pack – about ten of them. All heading the same way.

  “So where’s that?” Faye Seymour asked. “If this is the church…”

  “And there’s the crossroads,” Carys said, reaching across to point again.

  “Then they have to be about…” Peter’s hand froze on the laptop’s trackpad. “Oh my God. They’re here.” He looked up at the others” faces and saw his own fear reflected in them. “The wolves are coming here. They’re right outside.”

  “Lock the doors and windows,” Faye ordered.

  Her words were drowned out by the crash of breaking glass.

  “Too late,” Mike said. “They’re in already.”

  “But where?” asked Abby. “Can you tell?”

  Peter shook his head. “I don’t know how accurate this software tracking is. It just gives a general area.”

  Professor Crichton slammed the main bar door shut. “No lock?”

  “No,” Faye told him, hurrying to close the door on the other side of the bar.

  “But wolves can’t do door handles,” Abby said.

  “Don’t bet on it,” Carys told her.

  “Can’t hear anything now,” Mike said.

  They all listened, but there was nothing.

  “At least we have these,” Peter said, pointing to the plastic box of tranquiliser darts on the table beside the laptop.

  Listening by the door, Carys swore.

  Her mother gave her an admonishing stare.

  “The gun,” Carys said. “I left it down in the cellar when… When we were sorting out Peter.”

  “We need that gun,” Crichton said.

  “So we need to get down to the cellar,” Faye agreed.

  “We need to get to the restaurant too,” Peter said.

  “Why?” Abby asked.

  But Carys had realised. “Of course – the crystal sword. Janey told Josh it was here. That’s why he sent the wolves. They’re after the sword.”

  “David Forrest was after it too,” Peter said. “And I felt…” It was difficult to put into words – he didn’t know quite what he had felt. “I was sort of drawn to it, last night…”

  “Einzel needs that sword,” Carys agreed. “So we have to stop him getting it.”

  There was only one door into the restaurant, and it was right outside the main door to the bar.

  “So long as they’re not waiting outside, or waiting in there,” Mike said.

  “Oh you’re a bundle of laughs,” Abby snapped.

  “I was just saying.”

  “Well, don’t talk about it – do it!”

  Crichton was standing by the main door. He edged it open and peered out cautiously into the passageway outside.

  “Looks all right,” he said quietly.

  “We should take it easy,” Mike said.

  “Oh come on.” Carys strode across the room. “I’ll go.”

  “Carys,” her mother warned.

  “It’s right there – I can see the door.”

  “Just… be careful.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Crichton said. “Be ready to close the door if you see anything.”

  Peter wanted to help, he wanted to go too, but his dad raised his hand to stop him. He didn’t need to say anything – Peter knew better than to argue right now.

  Carys slipped out of the room and ran to the restaurant door, with Crichton close behind.

  She felt such an idiot. They might all die, and it would be her fault. Why had she left the tranquiliser gun down in the cellar? She should have taken it to the sanctuary with Janey. Maybe she could have stopped Josh – saved Janey.

  No, that was stupid. She had to stop thinking like that. Focus on the present. The past was done and she couldn’t change it.

  Carys stood by the restaurant door, torn between watching the passageway outside and seeing what Professor Crichton was doing.

  “All clear so far,” she whispered.

  Crichton walked slowly and warily towards the glass-fronted bookcase at the end of the room. He glanced back over his shoulder and smiled at Carys to show he’d heard her. Not far now, and still nothing. Just the faint sound of the wind rippling the curtain that hung beside the windows. Carys could feel the breeze on her face.

  Then the crunch of something breaking.

  She held her breath. Crichton froze. Looked down.

  “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “That was me treading on the broken glass.”

  Carys breathed again.

  Crichton was at the bookcase. He reached up to open the glass door.

  Broken glass… But – the bookcase door wasn’t broken. Where had the glass come from? Carys looked round quickly. The only movement was Crichton on the other side of the room, and the gentle undulation of the curtain by the open window.

  Except, the window wasn’t open.

  Carys remembered the sound of glass breaking. Broken glass under foot. Suddently a dark shape was moving across the room. She yelled a warning. But it was too late.

  The wolf was already in the air – hurling itself at Professor Crichton. He turned, his face etched with fear. Hand pulling back swiftly from the open door of the bookcase. The howl of pain drove into Carys’s consciousness, numbing her. She could only stare in horror as the wolf seemed to twist in mid-air, right in front of Crichton, then fall to the floor, slumped in a bloody mess.

  He had to put his foot on the animal’s back to get enough purchase to pull out the sword. The crystal of the broken blade was stained and dripping.<
br />
  Carys was still standing staring in horror when he ran to her.

  “Come on. That won’t be the only one.”

  He was right. Once through the door she heard the growl of the approaching wolves. Two of them slowly stalked down the passage. Their shoulders rose and fell as they padded forward. As soon as they saw Carys and Crichton, their heads dropped slightly and they charged.

  Crichton pushed Carys in front of him into the bar. He turned to face the wolves, brandishing the broken sword. The wolves slowed, moving more cautiously. Perhaps they scented the blood of their fellow. It gave Crichton enough time to step back into the room.

  As soon as he was inside, Peter slammed the door shut. A moment later, the wood shook as the animals butted into it. Again and again they hurled themselves at the door. It creaked and groaned under the attack.

  Mike and Abby dragged the nearest table across. Carys and Peter ran to help, stacking tables and chairs against the door.

  “Block the other door too,” Crichton warned.

  “And then what?” Faye demanded.

  “Then we leave by the window,” Mike said. “While they’re busy trying to break the doors down.”

  “Good plan,” Abby agreed.

  Mike grinned nervously. But the next moment, a dark shape slammed against the main window. Several of the small panes shattered under the impact. Fur pressed hard against the others. A hungry snout slavered a sticky trail across the glass. Further along, another wolf leaped up, forepaws on the outside sill as it stared hungrily into the bar through rheumy eyes.

  “Maybe not the window,” Mike decided. He grabbed the replica silver-tipped arrow.

  “Like that’s going to help,” Abby told him.

  “We’ve got the sword too,” Peter pointed out.

  “It won’t be enough,” Carys said. “We have to stop them getting in.”

  “Or we have to get out,” Faye told her. She ran behind the bar, pushing crates of empty bottles aside.

  There was hammering at both doors now. The lower panel of one disintegrated in a shower of splinters. A paw reached through, pushing at the piled-up furniture, testing the barricade.

  “There is no way out,” Abby said.

  “This is my pub,” Faye told her. “If I say there’s a way out, then you’d better believe it.”

  “We want to believe it,” Mike said. “But where?”

  “Just come and help me clear this lot.”

  “We’re going to fight them off with broken bottles?” Peter asked.

  “No,” Faye said with exaggerated patience. “We’re going to move them, rip up the carpet underneath, and get out through the old trapdoor down to the cellar.”

  Carys ran to help. Behind her, the barricade collapsed. Chairs and tables spilled to the floor. Through the debris, the nose of a wolf emerged as it forced its way through the gaps in the toppled furniture.

  Mike and Abby were ripping up the carpet. Faye bundled bottles and glasses over the bar to Peter who put them out of the way on the other side. He paused to throw a beer glass at the emerging wolf. It shattered nearby, and the wolf withdrew rapidly, its snout showered in broken glass. Peter grinned, and Carys was amazed at how calm he seemed – how well he had recovered.

  Professor Crichton also seemed calm. He stood beside the bar, between everyone else and the shifting barricades, sword held ready.

  “I had fencing lessons once,” he told Carys.

  “Were you any good?”

  “Not really. Gave up after the third one.”

  The other barricade was looking precarious now. Another pane shattered in the window.

  Mike heaved at the trapdoor. “It won’t move!”

  “Maybe it’s locked,” Abby suggested. “Do we need a key?”

  “A key? You’re joking!”

  “It should just open,” Faye said. “We used to stock the bar straight from the cellar.”

  “Recently?” Mike asked as he struggled with the trapdoor, heaving on the metal ring that served as a handle.

  “Twenty years ago maybe.”

  “Together,” Abby said.

  She reached round Mike to help him. They both heaved on the handle.

  “This is cosy,” Mike said as he strained.

  “No it isn’t,” Abby told him.

  Carys pushed past her mother. “I’ll try to lever it up at the same time.”

  She grabbed the knife they used to cut slices of lemon, and jammed it into the narrow gap between the trapdoor and the surrounding floor. She couldn’t get much leverage, but if she could work out where the wood was jammed…

  The window exploded inwards. A mass of matted fur landed in the middle of the room. The huge wolf righted itself, snarling as Peter threw a glass at it. Professor Crichton stepped forward, sword raised.

  At the same moment, two more wolves finally forced their way out from the fallen barricade by the main door.

  The trapdoor shot upwards, knocking Carys off her feet. Abby and Mike collapsed backwards into the bar. Bottles and glasses crashed to the floor. Carys peered down into the dark pit that had opened up. There was no ladder, just a long drop into the cellar below.

  “Go, go, go!” Crichton yelled. “We’re right behind you.”

  The wolf that had come through the window leaped at the bar.

  Carys caught a confused glimpse of Peter wielding a wine bottle like a club. She heard it shatter across the wolf’s head. The snarl of anger. A shriek from Abby. But Carys was already dropping into the darkness.

  She seemed to fall for ever. She bent her legs as she landed, but the impact jarred all the way up her body. The only light came from the trapdoor above, and that was blocked by the shapes of Faye and Abby as they hung on from the lip of the opening, struggling to descend.

  Carys caught hold of her mum’s legs, helping her down.

  “I’ve got you!”

  Abby dropped beside them grunting with pain as she landed.

  “Put the lights on.”

  “Yes, Mum.” Like she hadn’t thought of that. She scrabbled for the light switch.

  Abby and Faye helped the others down. Mike first, then Peter and finally his father. Professor Crichton pulled down the trapdoor behind him. He jumped, letting the door fall.

  But it didn’t close. Something jammed in the way. The wolf howled as the heavy door slammed onto its back. Its front paws scrabbled through the opening as slowly but surely it dragged itself through.

  Crichton was sprawled on the floor, the wolf right above him. It inched its way forward, claws out, jaws snapping. Carys grabbed the tranquiliser gun from a shelf above the beer barrels. She spun round, bringing the gun up and – nothing.

  It wasn’t loaded.

  “The darts!” she realised.

  “Here – catch!”

  Peter flung the plastic box across the cellar. Carys caught it in one hand, almost dropped it, managed to hold on. She put the gun down on a metal barrel as she prised open the box and took out one of the darts with trembling fingers. It seemed to take for ever to open the gun. She struggled to push the dart into place.

  The wolf was through. The trapdoor clattered shut behind it as the animal fell towards Professor Crichton. He brought the sword up, but too late to connect with the wolf.

  Carys snapped the gun closed, raised it and fired in one movement.

  No effect.

  The wolf landed across Crichton’s chest. For a moment there was silence. Then a sound like a contented sigh. Carys realised with relief that it was a snore.

  “Someone get this thing off me,” Crichton said, trying to heave it aside.

  Carys reloaded the gun – why did it seem so much easier now everything wasn’t so urgent?

  “You’re pretty good with that,” Peter said.

  “Just luck. Point and shoot.”

  “Let’s hope our luck holds a bit longer,” Faye said. “Till we’re out of here at least.”

  They crept up the stairs. Carys and Faye listened
at the door while everyone else waited behind them. They couldn’t hear anything, so Faye carefully pulled the door open.

  At once, a huge mass of matted fur exploded through the opening. Carys fired. But the shot went wide, the dart embedding itself in the doorframe. The wolf was coming right at her – how could she miss at such close range? She was near enough to smell its breath and see the veins in its eyes. She hammered the gun into the brute’s face, and it fell away, sliding off the side of the staircase and crashing onto the stone floor below.

  Professor Crichton, at the back of the group, turned at once, brandishing the broken crystal sword. The animal backed away, head down, watching warily.

  As soon as they were all out, Peter closed the door. Even before it was shut they could hear scrabbling on the stairs.

  Then the scraping of claws down the other side.

  “Come on!” Mike whispered. “I’ve had enough fun for one day.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Carys told him.

  The passageway was clear, and there was no sign or sound of the wolves in the car park outside.

  “Now can we call the police?” Abby asked.

  “And tell them what?” Faye said. “Okay, we could explain the escaped wolves, but everything else?”

  “We might need all the help we can get,” Peter said. “I may have lost track, but I think today’s the twenty-eighth.”

  “So?” Mike asked.

  “So it’s the day of the meeting.” Carys understood what Peter was getting at. “Remember the remains of that letter we found? And Janey and I saw a car heading for the manor. She said there had been lots of vehicles there. Even though Forrest is dead, Einzel’s meeting must be going ahead. And it’s happening tonight.”

  “So we don’t know what he’s up to, but we know it’s tonight?” Abby said.

  “And we know we have to stop him,” Peter said. “Whatever the cost.”

  Sitting crammed into Professor Crichton’s Range Rover, they were parked between several huge diggers and a bulldozer. The whole area had been skimmed of grass and topsoil. Foundations for several houses were half dug, and there were even some walls and floors. But now the whole place was a vast grey ghost town that Peter knew would probably never be completed. Once again they were discussing going to the police.