“Anything we can tell the police is either meaningless or unbelievable,” Faye said. “They won’t want to know about werewolves. They’ll think we’re crazy.”
“But what about this Einzel guy and his meeting?” Abby suggested. “We know that’s happening.”
“So, some people are having a meeting. There’s no law against that,” Professor Crichton pointed out. “It’s not enough.”
“We were attacked by the wolves,” Mike said.
“Best case is they send someone out to round up the wolves and take them back to the sanctuary.”
“And what about Janey?” Carys said. “Josh too – if he’s dead.” She turned away to look out of the car window.
“The wolves escaped,” Faye said. “It’s easier to believe they killed Janey than a werewolf did.”
“But we know Forrest is dead,” Mike added.
“In another country. With no body to prove it. And only a couple of teenagers as witnesses,” Faye told him.
“The pilot won’t say anything either,” Carys added. “He probably broke all sorts of regulations bringing us back.”
“So we can call the police,” Peter said, “but anything we tell them they either won’t believe, or it isn’t enough to persuade them to do anything.”
“Terrific. We’re basically on our own,” Crichton said. “Let’s just accept that and get on with it.”
“Get on with what?” Abby asked.
“Getting the hell out of here,” Mike muttered.
“That would be the sensible course of action,” Crichton agreed. But Peter could tell from his tone that it wasn’t what he was going to suggest.
“So what’s the plan?” Peter asked.
“In all probability we have until tonight, when the full moon rises.”
“That makes sense,” Faye agreed. “Whatever they are planning will happen by the light of the full moon.”
“We need more information before we can theorise.”
Peter smiled – typical Dad, reducing it all to an academic problem. But Mike and Abby were nodding. They could understand that.
“So how do we get more information?” Carys asked.
“We go for a walk. Not far – just to Wolfstone Manor. If we can sneak close enough to see who’s there and what they’re up to it might give us some clues. If we know what they’re planning, maybe – just maybe – we can find a way to stop them.”
“Into the lions” den,” Mike said.
“If it was only lions we might stand a chance,” Abby told him.
In contrast to the general mood, it was a bright, sunny afternoon. A chill breeze ruffled the trees as they made their cautious way through the woodland towards Wolfstone Manor.
The route took them close to the Wolfstone Circle. Peter caught a glimpse of it through the trees, standing silhouetted on the skyline. Several vehicles were parked close by. Figures moved among the stones.
“Hang on,” he said. “Maybe the action’s not at the manor at all.”
They crept closer, right to the edge of the trees. Peter recognised where he had run from the wolves that first night when he saw Einzel arrive in his helicopter. In some ways it seemed like it had only just happened. In others it was a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes.
They crouched down, watching as the figures raised huge lamps into position at the edge of the circle. It was too far away to see if the figures were human or upright wolves.
“That looks like the equipment they had at the castle,” Carys said.
“But they’ll have a full moon tonight anyway,” Peter said. “Why do they need their artificial moonlight as well?”
“On the principle that you can’t have too much of a good thing?” Mike suggested.
“To enhance nature itself,” Faye murmured. “Possibly.”
“But why?” Abby said. “I mean, what’s the point of it all?”
“Think about what we know already.” Professor Crichton spoke in what Peter called his “lecture voice”. He ticked off points on his fingers as he made them. “From what we’ve learned so far, it seems to me that the Wolfstone Circle – like the Vrolask Circle in Russia – was designed to focus the light, the energy, of the moon.”
“Well that makes sense,” Abby said. “The whole circle is laid out according to a lunar rather than a solar calendar.”
Crichton nodded enthusiastically. “Quite right. And we’ve already likened the unusual parabolic shape of both circles to a lens. That’s what Peter and Carys saw with the mirrors at the German castle.”
“It ties in with the legend too,” Peter said. “The stones somehow focused the moonlight on the Crystal Room at Vrolask.”
“But that can’t have been the original intention,” Carys pointed out. “The Crystal Room was made much later than the circle. I mean, the circle can’t have been built for the same reason.”
“So it focused the energy and light somewhere else,” Professor Crichton said. He raised his eyebrows to encourage a reply. It was obvious to Peter that his father already had a theory. “The Vrolask Palace and Wolfstone Manor are both much more recent buildings. But we do know what was originally on their sites, don’t we?”
“The Rogue Stone,” Faye said. “I assume it’s the same age as the circle. That’s where it would have been focused.”
“And the Rogue Stone is still there,” Peter said. “Built into the wall of that cellar in the manor.”
Crichton jabbed his finger in the air emphatically. “And the circle itself could also be a focus for the energy. Remember the high crystalline content in the structure of the stones is the very same crystal that my sword and the Crystal Room were made from.”
Mike frowned. “Are you saying that the circles – here and at Vrolask – worked like the Crystal Room? That they forced werewolves into their wolf form?”
“That’s why we found bodies of people running away from the circle,” Crichton told them. “They’d been force-changed in the circle, then tried to escape. They were shot with silver-tipped arrows, remember. The circle is a place of healing, in a sense – but it’s more for diagnosis. And the cure is death.”
“I’m not sure,” Abby said.
“Oh?”
“We didn’t find that many bodies. So what happened to the wolves that didn’t manage to run away? From what you say, the circle just enhanced their condition. It’s a pretty poor trap if it makes the wolves stronger so they can escape.”
“Abby’s right. It just aims more and more moonlight at them – either in the circle or ready to be sacrificed on the Rogue Stone or wherever,” Mike added. “As I said before – you can’t have too much of a good thing, right?”
“Maybe you can,” Carys said. “I’ve just remembered something Josh said. When he opened his ring and sort of charged himself up with moonlight from the bit of crystal inside.”
“Yes?” Faye prompted.
“Well, he said something about not wanting to overdo it. He closed the ring pretty sharpish.”
“David Forrest did too when he changed,” Peter remembered.
“You think they’re worried about over-exposure?” Crichton asked.
“Too much of a good thing,” Peter said. “Is that possible?”
“Well, too much of anything is a poison,” Faye said. “We need water to live, but get too much of it and you drown. Perhaps they can overdose on moonlight.”
They watched as the last of the lights was raised into position. Cables were being laid back to a large van, which Peter guessed housed a generator. But that just didn’t make sense.
“If they can drown in too much moonlight,” he said slowly, “then why are they setting up lights to produce even more of it?”
“They need it for something else?” Carys suggested. “Not to change, but for some other reason.”
“Mr Seymour could feel the shard of crystal lodged in his leg,” Faye said. “He told me it was like toothache. An itch he couldn’t scratch. It was only the tiniest fragment �
� we had it X-rayed once. But he wouldn’t have it removed. Said it was a part of him now.”
“Like the broken sword in Einzel’s shoulder,” Peter said.
“Exactly. I used to wonder if the crystal was somehow responsible for my father-in-law’s long life. If it somehow prolonged it.”
“And Einzel is very old,” Abby said. “Has to be.”
“Einzel has crystal and silver in his shoulder,” Peter’s father said. “Would that make a difference?
“It might,” Faye agreed. “They’re opposites, pulling in different directions. The crystal perhaps gives life, but the silver is constantly working against that. Hence he suffers from relentless pain, and from argyria – silver poisoning.”
“But silver has healing properties,” Mike said. “Best thing there was before antibiotics came along. That’s why the chalice in church is made from silver – all those people taking communion, it should be covered in germs, but the silver sort of suffocates bacteria and keeps the cup sterile.”
“That’s the point, though, isn’t it?” Carys said. “It heals in small quantities, but too much is a poison. Plus we know that, traditionally, werewolves could be killed with silver bullets. Like Mum said, maybe the crystal prolongs his life, while the silver makes it agony.”
“A combination of life and death,” Professor Crichton said. “That’s possible. But he’s been picking away at the crystal, using it in those rings. Now the balance is turning in favour of the silver.”
“So what’s with all the moonlight lamps and everything then?” Mike asked. “Are we any the wiser?”
“We can theorise,” Crichton said. “And I think maybe Einzel plans to focus all that energy on the crystal in his shoulder. It will absorb the moonlight, like charging up a battery.”
“But why come here to do it?” Mike said. “Why not use the Vrolask Circle?”
“Because most of the stones are missing,” Carys told him. “It wouldn’t work.”
“So he’s got to come to the complete circle, here, to – er, maybe it’s to combat the effects of the silver…” Peter suggested.
“Perhaps it’s more than that,” Crichton said. “Perhaps it’s to make him stronger; even to heal him – whatever that means.”
“But whatever he is doing,” Faye said, “it can’t be good.”
The best option seemed to be to split up. Faye was adamant that the villagers should be warned something was happening – even if they didn’t know exactly what. She and Carys would head back to the village and warn people the wolves had escaped from the sanctuary. That would probably keep most people indoors. Carys was obviously not happy to be relegated to knocking on doors, but she reluctantly agreed.
Professor Crichton suggested Abby and Mike continue on towards Wolfstone Manor as planned, and keep watch.
“We need to know just how many people are involved. If you can get close enough to see or overhear anything useful that would be great. And take better notes than you usually do, Mike,” he added.
“And what about you and Peter?” Carys asked.
“We’ll stay here. It looks like they”ve almost finished setting up their lights. Once they’re done I want to take a closer look.”
“Maybe we can sabotage the systems somehow, unplug the cables or something,” Peter suggested.
“Maybe.” Crichton’s tone suggested that he’d already thought of that. “Meet back here by sunset at the latest, okay?”
It was another hour before Einzel’s men had all gone. Just the generator van was left, along with the huge lamps. There was no sign of anyone staying behind, but Peter and his father waited another fifteen minutes to be sure.
Then they made their way cautiously up to the circle. Peter was ready to turn and run back to the woods at the slightest movement. Professor Crichton rubbed his hands together like he did when he started on a new project or dig site. Like he couldn’t wait to see what was going on.
“Let’s just rip out some cables, take whatever we can, and get out of here,” Peter said.
“Sounds like a plan. This is fascinating, but it probably wouldn’t do to hang around.”
“Oops – too late!” The voice came from behind them.
They spun round – to find David Forrest standing there. He was holding a pistol.
“Don’t move,” he said. His voice was firm, but the gun wavered nervously.
“You going to kill us, David?” Professor Crichton asked.
“Like you killed your own father?” Peter added. He was surprised how calm he sounded. He certainly didn’t feel calm.
“Only if you force me to.”
“Very comforting,” Crichton told him. “Actually, you might be able to help us with something.” He walked to the nearest of the lamps, for all the world as if this was a normal conversation about something mundane – like he was asking for directions.
“You think?” David jabbed the gun forward. “Just stand still!”
“We know the moonlight, both real and artificial, will be focused by the stones onto Wolfstone Manor.”
“Onto the Rogue Stone in the cellar,” Peter added.
“So you’ve worked it all out, then,” David snapped.
“Everything except why,” Crichton said.
David laughed, but it was forced and nervous. “That’s easy. This is the cure.”
“Except that your cure is to become a wolf and throw off all your humanity,” Peter said.
“Too right it is. And tonight Herr Einzel’s long years of work will be fulfilled. Tonight he’ll finally cure the wolves that are gathering, getting rid of their last vestiges of humanity. Whether they like it or not.”
“You mean – you haven’t told them that’s what will happen?” Crichton said, appalled.
David shrugged. “They want a long life. Some of them know the cost. They don’t care.”
“What about your sister?” Peter said. “Would she care? What would she think? Your father certainly thought you were wrong.”
“Well lucky for me, he can’t tell me what to do any more, can he? And tonight, the moonlight will focus on the small pieces of crystal that each of us has. It will transform us permanently into the most savage and noble of creatures.”
“Ready to work for Einzel?”
“Of course. He is our lord and master. He will use the Rogue Stone as a focus. The power will flow into him, making him all powerful. He will become Über-Wolf! No longer just the Old One. No longer the Lone Wolf – that is what “Einzel” means, of course – “alone”.” David’s expression twisted into a boyish smirk. “Or did you think it was actually his name?”
“So all this is just because he was lonely?” Peter sneered.
“Joke while you can. But Einzel wants you dealt with. So stop treating this like some sort of game.”
“No one’s playing games,” Crichton said. “Just calm down.”
David ignored him, aiming the gun right at Peter. “In fact, even though Einzel wants to tear you apart himself, why don’t I just shoot you now?”
Peter felt like the life was already draining out of him. David’s finger tightened on the trigger, and he grinned in anticipation.
David had his back to the stone. So he couldn’t see another figure rising up from behind it. Peter recognised his own coat before he realised who was wearing it.
Sensing movement, David spun round in surprise. “Annabelle?!”
She didn’t answer, but regarded him warily. Beneath the coat, her bare legs and feet were muddy and scratched. Her face was streaked with dirt and her fair hair matted and filthy. She still wore the ring that she’d had when Peter first found her, trapped inside the cage in the cellar of Wolfstone Manor. Not a ring like David or the other wolves wore. This was more delicate, embossed with the engraved head of a wolf – the du Bois family crest.
David moved round, so he could keep Peter and Professor Crichton covered with the gun.
“Annabelle – thank God I’ve found you.”
David frowned. “You know him?”
“He’s my friend,” she said. “He helped me.”
“That’s right,” said Peter.
But David cut him off, jabbing the gun forward. “You shut up!” He turned back to his sister. “Where have you been? We were so worried.”
“Then why didn’t you look for me? Peter found me. I’ve been in the woods. Scavenging for food. Rabbits, rodents, anything I could find.”
“You didn’t have to stay in the woods.”
“The woods are my home now,” she said.
Peter tried to smile, to reassure the girl. She was confused and frightened, looking from Peter to her brother, and then to the gun.
“What did you mean?” she said at last. “Just now, when you spoke about father.”
“I didn’t mean anything.”
“I heard you. I was here, listening. You said father can’t tell you what to do any more. What did you mean?”
David stepped away from her, anxious. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. Just that father’s not here, that’s all.”
“Tell her the truth,” Professor Crichton said sternly.
David turned sharply. “I’ll kill you if you speak again!”
“Truth? What truth?”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said. It would be a shock however she found out.
“Sorry?”
“I warned you!” David brought the gun up and fired.
But Annabelle moved lightning fast. She knocked her brother’s arm and the shot went wide. She grabbed his wrist, holding it tight.
“What truth?” she demanded. “Tell me!”
David wrenched his hand free and staggered back. “There is no “truth”. Dad’s just… gone away, that’s all.”
There was no gentle way to do it. “He’s dead, Annabelle,” Peter told her. “He hasn’t gone away, he’s dead!”
“No!” Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees. “You were lying.”
The Wolfstone Curse Page 25
