Moist earth crumbled and clumped between his toes, mice scampered away from his path and the wooden fence rattled in the breeze. To his right, a row of houses looked on, seeking him out with their spotlights. A cat leapt out in front of him, bared its teeth and hissed, then fled.
Leaving the alley, he raced across the road and stepped onto the field. The wet lush grass flattened underfoot as he continued on his way, now under the guidance of the moonlight alone. A cloud passed by, obscuring the light, plunging him into a world of unknown darkness, freedom beckoning. He continued, bounding through the grass, feeling free to be himself at last.
He picked up speed, without a care, like a speedboat in the middle of calm, safe waters. He paused for a breath. Not a sign of anyone or anything; he was alone with the elements. After taking a step to steady himself, he shot off once more along his path to who knows where.
The flow of adrenaline slowed, then stopped altogether. In the distance a car engine rumbled, growing louder and louder with each passing second. The headlights flashed across the grass. Ronnie dove into the wet grass and held his breath, waiting for the car to disappear into the distance before standing up tall and trying to gain his bearings. At some point during the night he might have to make a run for it, which could result in him getting lost and wandering about the field in human form, waiting for the daylight hours to pass so he could once again shift and run free.
Chapter Seven
Stratton Audley, Bicester Outskirts
The sound of his panting filled the air. Behind him, way off in the distance, a row of houses sparkled and cars crawled along the roads. The sound of thudding car doors carried across the grass. Even out there, in the middle of nowhere, life was all around him. Ronnie knew he wasn’t safe, not there and not anywhere. At any given moment, the dogs from the previous night might reappear, and he knew his chances of outrunning them were slim now that he had changed back to human form.
Voices. A lot of them. Ronnie looked over his shoulder and held his breath. The sound of something resembling a whine drifted across the field. He listened harder, not daring to breathe, hoping and praying it was a figment of his imagination.
Voices, again, coming his way. Another whine, followed by a whimper. Seconds later, he saw them. Outlines at first, but as they came closer, his fears were confirmed.
The military police were back. The dogs were out in front, noses to the ground, leading them in his direction. The soldiers had something, something to give them his scent. One of the dogs looked straight at him and its eyes lit up. In no time at all, they were all barking, snarling and looking his way. Once again, they were on his trail.
Ronnie took off, flying through the long grass into the onrushing darkness, with only the wind on his face to guide him under the partially obscured moon.
Cursing himself for being so carefree earlier, Ronnie started to tire. They had gotten closer, their eyes gleaming and their mouths gaping as they sensed their prey was near. When their panting was almost upon him, one of the dogs barked as they gathered speed.
Ronnie turned around, took one step, and realized that this time he wasn’t going to get away from them. He carried on regardless, his legs close to packing it in. From somewhere, he managed to find his second wind and put some distance between them again.
He continued to run, desperate to increase his lead on them while he still had the energy and the will. The events of the night flashed through his mind. Karl and Tarquin chaining him up, using up all his strength to break free, then running wild like his life depended on it. Well, now his life did depend on it and he was out of gas. He slowed to a jog to give himself a breather, but once recovered, his legs refused to pick up speed.
They were gaining on him. Looking back over his shoulder, he could once again see the gleam of their eyes, their tongues hanging out, moving around like they were licking their lips before a tasty meal. Giving it all he had, he managed to pick up the pace, but it was no use. Just a few steps later, Ronnie slowed to walking pace and awaited his fate.
Out of nowhere, Amanda came to his mind. What was she doing now and how would she take the news of his imminent death? Did she even suspect he might be a shifter?
Their whispering footsteps closed in.
And what about Karl and Tarquin? Would they blame themselves for his escape when they heard the news? He hoped not.
Their hot breath was on his heels, just as it had been the other night. He could feel their teeth scraping the skin from his flesh.
He threw a hand over his stomach and stumbled in the grass. One of the dogs jumped, missing by inches. Two steps later, Ronnie stumbled again. This time, he was unable to regain his balance and fell face first onto the ground. His impending death sniffed towards him.
One of the dogs trotted along the side of his limp body, panting, snorting, and growling. It reached Ronnie’s cheek, growled again and moved in for the kill. Its wet nose scraped along his face.
Ronnie turned over, sat up straight and brought his leg in. With one foot standing, the dog pounced, took hold of his naked body and held on, waiting for the others to catch up. As Ronnie’s fear intensified, he felt a familiar stirring. By the time the rest of them reached him, he had transformed again.
They came at him from all directions, half a dozen or more. The more he struggled, the more vicious they became. Totally outnumbered, Ronnie did his best to fight them off, but knew at any moment he’d feel razor-sharp canines sink into his flesh and the pack would be upon him. He’d be flat on the ground and helpless, too exhausted, even in were-form, to fight them off.
Once they had him, Ronnie put up a brave struggle, maiming some of the dogs, but soon resorted to covering his face with his hands, waiting to be torn to shreds like Mauve the cow. But the death blow never came. Instead, they just barked, held him still, and waited for their handlers to catch up.
Heavy footsteps along with accompanying voices approached. Guns clicked and flares lit up the surrounding night sky. He could hear them fumbling in the dark. Ronnie lay still, breathing heavily, like he’d been presented with an unexpected ray of hope. Seconds later a boot clattered into his arm.
“Here it is.”
The others came over, each of them proposing a different plan of action. The voices receded and four legs climbed on his back, pushing him forward and pinning him to the ground.
The soldiers finished their conference, and Ronnie heard the clank of chains as they moved closer. In no time at all, he was bound and unable to move a muscle, the chains digging in so tight that the slightest movement made him wince. Sweat dripped from every pore on his body.
They each stood back and a gun clicked. “Okay, stand back everyone.”
The cool night air momentarily engulfed him and he smiled, grateful for this small moment of pleasure before the bullet came.
The trigger clicked and the air whined. Ronnie looked up, just as something sharp planted itself in his leg. It was only once they’d hauled him to his feet that his limp body alerted him to the effects of the dart’s poison. He was limp and motionless. Incapacitated and completely at the mercy of the soldiers.
It wasn’t long before the sound of a rumbling truck filled the air and a set of headlights cast a blanket of light over the road in front of him. The dogs moved and the soldiers stepped forward.
They slung him down in the bed of the truck and pinned him, and brought the dogs in beside him to keep watch. A soldier rapped on the dividing window, the engine fired up and they started to roll.
+++
Secure Facility, RAF Bicester, Launton
Ronnie lay on his back, surrounded by soldiers, dogs waiting to pounce, staring up at the dark sky. The clouds had won their battle with the moon and stars, and now it was just about as dark as it gets.
His leg throbbed. The dart had landed in an area that had been bound by the first set of chains and had bruised as he’d broken free. When the truck rolled over a divot, the pain shot right through him and he wince
d. The dogs immediately stood up, but the soldiers restrained them.
They ran over a divot that was like a small crater, and the truck jumped. Ronnie’s reflexes shot his arm towards his leg as he cried out in agony. This time, the soldiers were unable to restrain the dogs and before he knew it, four razor-sharp paws stood on his chest. They journeyed on for roughly ten minutes more, the dog’s canines coming inches from his face each time the truck jolted.
When they turned off the road and passed through the gates of what looked like a military base, Ronnie felt almost relieved that his ordeal was over and submitted himself to his fate.
If he knew what lay ahead, he might well have begged them to finish him off then and there.
The truck pulled up right outside the main entrance and the soldiers leapt to their feet. A guard emerged from inside the building and, much to Ronnie’s relief, escorted the dogs to their kennels around the back.
For a second, it felt to Ronnie like he was arriving at his local casualty, but any hopes he had of being placed on a stretcher and wheeled to a comfortable, clean bed were soon dashed as he was hauled to his feet and made to step across the gravelly car park to the main entrance.
Inside, the lights were all on, but the building was deserted. With one soldier holding each arm, they dragged his limp, exhausted body through a fire door and along a never-ending corridor to a staircase. The metallic scraping of his chains on the floor echoed in the emptiness. Staggering onto the upper floor, he consumed all the strength he had left, to get a good look around.
On either side of a long center aisle were cages, each one occupied by some kind of half-human creature. Most of them were naked, curled up in the corner, fast asleep, in the same manner as he had often woken to find himself in. When he clocked a vacant cage right at the end that was fast approaching, Ronnie feared the worst.
They dragged him on, past the cage to another gruelling set of steps. This time, he collapsed half way up. The guards stooped and lifted him to his feet, carrying him up the stairs, dragging his claws over the steps.
At the top of the stairs the soldiers released him and he fell tumbling to the floor. Raising his head up, he forced himself to examine the surroundings.
Everywhere he looked were the most hi-tech cages he’d ever seen. Buttons flashed on the outside and a wall of electricity buzzed on the inside, preventing the occupants from making a nuisance of themselves.
The soldiers dragged him up to his feet. “This way, follow me, come on, you can walk yourself. The drugs should have worn off by now, so I know you’re trying it on.”
Ronnie took one step unaided and fell back to the floor. “Please, help me,” he snarled, raising a hand.
Without comment, the soldier reached down, pulled him to his feet and told his friend to keep away as he dragged him along the aisle like a broken shopping trolley.
The soldier followed Ronnie into the cage and puffed out his chest. “Hope you’re comfortable in your new accommodation.” He laughed.
“What’s going to happen to me now?”
“Well, you see these cages? They hold all our specimens. Specimens, like you.”
“What do you mean by specimens?”
“I mean, that you’re here to be tested on. Yep, that’s right, first thing in the morning, when you’ve shifted back, the tests will start. But don’t worry, we’ll give you something to bite into when the pain gets too much for you.” He laughed. “Oh, and if the person doing the testing is in a good mood, he might give you a kick to knock you out, just so you don’t feel the pain. See? Nothing to worry about at all.”
The soldier stepped towards the door, still laughing to himself. The button blinked green and the door slid shut. Soon after, the cage buzzed and a blue, crackling sheen appeared along the cage’s door and two side walls.
Striding along the aisle, the guard started whistling some melody that, to Ronnie, sounded vaguely familiar. He descended the stairs, flipped a switch and plunged the entire building into darkness.
Ronnie’s chains clanked as he slumped down at the back of the cage and curled up like the poor creatures he’d passed downstairs. Glancing around, he got the idea that this time tomorrow, he wouldn’t be so fortunate.
Chapter Eight
Slater residence, Bicester, England
Scarlett finished getting dressed. She put on her shoes and stood at the bedroom door, listening for signs of life downstairs. There was the sound of a spoon chink against a bowl in the kitchen, then the kettle roared and a chair scrape across the floor.
Amanda was home. Scarlett gave her makeup a final check and then headed downstairs.
“Morning! How you doing?” Despite the events of the last few days she actually felt quite bright this morning.
Amanda placed her mug of coffee on the table and slumped down in the chair. Scarlett noticed her eyes were bloodshot and there was no hint of a smile.
“Oh dear. What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling out the chair next to her friend. “Are you alright?”
“It’s nothing really. Just a fitful night - and I have a strange feeling in my gut. Must’ve been something I ate.” She lowered her eyes to her coffee. “Anyways, you seem happy, what’s on?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old thing. Overall things are normal. Had a strange day at work yesterday, though.”
“Well that’s to be expected when you work for a weirdo like Karl isn’t it?” Amanda’s expression didn’t follow her tone at all, but stayed rather blank.
Scarlett laughed. “Very funny, and true enough. Yeah, and when I got back to work yesterday, that particular weirdo wasn’t around, which is unusual.”
“Thought that happened all the time?”
“Guess it does, but this time…I don’t know, it just felt strange.”
“He’s a strange weirdo then.”
Scarlett chuckled. “Karl? Oh yeah, tell me about it. No, but it wasn’t that. Not just that, anyway.”
“Sounds intriguing. Sure you aren’t just letting your imagination run away with you?”
Scarlett set her mug down on the table. She could tell that Amanda was off today but this just annoyed her. “No, Amanda, I’m not. Sometimes things just happen and you get a gut feeling that you can’t rationalize to other people. That must have happened to you, surely?”
“Well, yeah, sorry, didn’t mean to upset you Scarlett. I’m just a bit off kilter today is all.” She sat up a bit straighter to pay closer attention. “So what was it then? What was your gut telling you?”
“That’s the thing, don’t know exactly. Went around the back to do some digging. I thought it might be connected with—”
Amanda yawned.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bore you.”
“No, no it’s not that. I’m just exhausted. Didn’t get a wink last night, in fact.”
“I knew something was wrong. And there’s me blabbing on about my own problems. So, what is it? What’s bothering you? Is it Ronnie?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I‘ve just got a bad feeling. I know something’s wrong, but I can’t put my finger on what.”
“Have you tried ringing him?”
“Yeah, but he’s not answering. Been trying half the night. I just wanted to know that he was okay, because he hasn’t been feeling well.”
Scarlett nodded sympathetically. “Well, if he isn’t feeling well, he’s most likely in bed, sleeping it off.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am right, you’ll see.”
“Maybe, but—”
“No buts, Amanda.”
Scarlett sat back and took a deep breath. “Amanda?”
“What?”
“You know when Ronnie … goes off sometimes?”
“Yes. What about it?”
“Well, do you keep a record? Of the dates I mean?”
“Not specifically, no, but I do keep my own calendar… so I could work out when he was away. Why?”
“Just something I need t
o check out. Don’t suppose you could quickly check the dates for me?” Scarlett held her gaze, trying not to seem too keen. “I promise I’m not trying to pin another murder on him….” She grinned.
Amanda furrowed her brow, then shook her head and smiled back. “You and your sleuthing. I’m sure you must have watched too many Miss Marple films when you were a kid.”
“Please?”
Amanda checked the time on her phone. “Well, okay then. Quickly though, I don’t have much time.”
“Thanks. Just jot a list of the dates down on a paper for me.”
“Okay, whatever you say detective.”
Scarlett sat staring into space while Amanda dragged herself up the stairs and across the landing. Scarlett heard the bedroom door shut and took out her phone to take a glance at her emails while she waited.
Her gaze scanned the inbox. There was only the usual daily bombardment of spam from sites that she’d intended to unsubscribe from but forgot. It wasn’t long before she put the phone on the table and started to mull things over again.
Just then Amanda came down the stairs and handed her the list of dates.
“Here you go. Not sure what good this will do but go ahead and take a peek.”
After running a quick eye over the scrap of lined paper, Scarlett smiled and said thank you.
Amanda took another look at the time, hesitated, then slumped down at the table.
“You skipping work today are you? It’s mighty late for your usual shift”
Amanda looked at the clock. “I think I’ll go in soon, but yeah called in a bit of a fib early this morning to buy me some time to freshen up.”
“Go on then, you get off to work. It will make you feel better and don’t worry about Ronnie. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Why are you always so right, Scarlett? It’s like you have some special power over me to make it all better,” she muttered as she stood up.
A Very British Witch Boxed Set Page 48
