Lycanthropic (Book 2): Wolf Moon (The Rise of the Werewolves)

by Morris, Steve

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But can I ask you about something else?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mr Harvey.

  ‘It’s about Rose’s brother, Oscar. He’s sick. He has cystic fibrosis.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Mr Harvey. ‘I visited the Hallibury’s house yesterday. The family seems to be coping reasonably well, although Oscar has a nasty chest infection.’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ said Vijay. ‘They need special medicines for Oscar, and they just can’t get hold of them.’

  Mr Harvey frowned. ‘I understood from Mrs Hallibury that they have stocks of everything they need for the next few days at least.’

  ‘But that’s not enough,’ protested Vijay. ‘They need more.’

  ‘We’re all living one day to the next at the moment, Vijay. My hands are full just keeping supplies of food and other essentials on the move. It’s getting harder to find reliable sources at prices people can afford to pay. Oscar seems to be doing all right at the moment. His family know how to care for him.’

  ‘But can you try?’ asked Vijay. ‘Please?’

  ‘I’ll ask around,’ said Ben. ‘I have various contacts who might be able to source medicines. But I can’t make any promises.’

  ‘Maybe I could help,’ suggested Vijay. ‘I could come with you when you go out to collect stuff from your contacts.’

  ‘No,’ said Mr Harvey firmly. ‘Dealing with my suppliers is just as dangerous as going out on night patrol. Half of the people I’m buying from probably belong to criminal gangs. I don’t dare ask where they manage to get their supplies. To be honest, some of them scare the hell out of me. So just leave it with me, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Vijay reluctantly. It seemed like helping old ladies was the best his former teacher could offer him.

  The news that Mr Harvey was struggling to source essentials like food worried him. He remembered the words Rose had said to him the last time he’d seen her. It’s only going to get worse. The way she’d said it, about seeing things in a dream, had made it sound prophetic, as if she really knew the future somehow. And prophesy or no prophesy, she might well be right, judging from what Mr Harvey said. Vijay didn’t really want to think about the worst, but if he wanted to be of real use to people, he needed to be prepared. It was yet another example of him not wanting to face up to the truth.

  Becoming a hero was a lot harder than he’d expected, but perhaps this was an opportunity to do something practical, something that would help to ensure the welfare of his friends and family, however bad things became. He walked home, thinking about the kinds of stuff that they would need to survive if society fell apart completely. Camping gear would be a good start. Some warm sleeping bags, a tent, something to cook with. If he could stock up with useful items, he would be able to demonstrate his street smarts and forward thinking.

  He called in at a camping shop close to his house, but it was half sold out already and all the best gear was gone. Other people had beaten him to it.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the shopkeeper. ‘All our tents and sleeping bags have gone.’

  Vijay considered buying a gas cooking stove or a pop-up camping chair, but it seemed like a lame effort. In the end he left empty-handed.

  When he reached his house, Drake was arriving at the same time, carrying a large shopping bag under his arm. ‘Hey, Vijay, how’s it going?’

  His friend seemed to be in a good mood. He always was these days. In fact, the worse that things became, the happier Drake seemed to be. Vijay guessed that Aasha had something to do with it. Having a girlfriend made all the difference, and Vijay found his thoughts turning longingly to Rose again.

  ‘What’ve you been up to?’ asked Drake cheerfully.

  ‘I’ve just been to the camping shop,’ said Vijay. ‘I was looking for survival gear.’

  Drake laughed. ‘Aasha’s more interested in designer gear,’ he said. ‘Take a look at this.’ He opened up the bag he was carrying and showed Vijay its contents. The bag was stuffed with dresses, jeans and handbags.

  ‘Where did you get all that?’ asked Vijay.

  Drake cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and lowered his voice. ’I nicked it. It’s dead easy to steal stuff at the moment. The world is falling to pieces out there.’

  Vijay could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘You stole these things? For Aasha?’

  ‘Yeah. She asked me to get some cool stuff for her. I brought her jewellery yesterday, a nice gold necklace. She liked it, asked me if it matched her complexion, like I know the answer to a question like that. So I said yeah, obviously.’ He pulled the jeans out of the shopping bag and held them up for Vijay to see. ‘I hope these are the right size. What do you reckon? If they’re too big she’s gonna kill me.’

  Vijay was fuming. ‘I can’t believe that Aasha asked you to steal for her,’ he said. But actually, he could. It was just the kind of thing Aasha would do. Anything that was forbidden, Aasha wanted. She was a rebel through and through.

  ‘Ssh!’ hissed Drake. ‘Keep your voice down. Don’t tell everyone, yeah?’

  ‘You should be ashamed,’ said Vijay angrily. ‘Sikhs don’t steal.’

  ‘I’m not a Sikh.’

  Vijay had no reply to that. What was the point anyway? He unlocked the front door and went inside. Drake followed him in and disappeared upstairs to Aasha’s room, leaving Vijay standing in the hallway, not knowing what to do.

  He knew he ought to tell his parents about Drake stealing for Aasha. Sikhs always told the truth. But something held him back. It was a feeling of hopelessness.

  What was happening to him? He wanted to demonstrate his courage, but he couldn’t even do this simple thing. After all, what good would it do?

  Chapter Sixty

  King’s College Hospital, Lambeth, South London, waxing moon

  Chris stared at the headmaster in disbelief. ‘No way,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m not going to do that.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mr Canning. ‘It’s not so much to ask, really. Just a small request.’

  ‘No,’ said Chris conclusively. He had tried to avoid the headmaster as much as possible since arriving, but Mr Canning always seemed to find him. The ward was small and there was nowhere to hide.

  ‘That’s such a shame,’ said Mr Canning. ‘In that case, you leave me with no alternative. I’m going to have to eat you.’

  ‘What?’ said Chris, his eyes widening in horror.

  ‘Yes,’ continued Mr Canning. ‘It’s a kindness really. You see, if I don’t eat you, one of these others surely will.’ He waved his arm to indicate the other patients in the ward. ‘We’re all getting very hungry, you know. Hungry folk will do desperate things. If we don’t escape from this place by the next full moon, all hell’s going to break loose. You’re a clever boy. I’m sure you realize that.’

  Chris did realize it. It was exactly what he’d been saying to Seth ever since they’d arrived in the hospital. The two of them were the only patients on the ward who ate any meals. Chris had tried his best to persuade the doctors that the fact they were eating normal food must mean they weren’t werewolves. But the doctor in charge had insisted that it proved nothing. ‘Loss of appetite is just one of the syndrome’s symptoms,’ he’d told Chris dismissively. ‘We don’t yet have a definitive test, and in any case, the hospital is on lockdown, so even if you don’t have the condition, we have to keep you here anyway.’

  Chris didn’t really understand how the bite patients could survive without food, but they didn’t seem to be growing weaker. If anything they were becoming stronger, and more restless. Violent outbreaks among the patients had become commonplace, and the soldiers had moved some of the patients to a separate ward in order to keep the doctors and nurses safe. Chris himself would have been attacked by one of the patients just the previous day if Mr Canning hadn’t intervened to protect him.

  Mr Canning reminded him of that now. ‘I saved your life, you remember? You owe me a favour in return.’

  Chris felt the figh
t go out of him. Much as he hated to admit it, he needed Mr Canning on his side if he were to survive in this hellhole. ‘Tell me again what you want me to do.’

  Mr Canning smiled broadly. ‘That’s more like it. I knew you’d agree in the end. When the next full moon comes, I plan to make my escape. You and your friend can come too, if you like. That’s up to you. All you need to do is create a distraction, something that will draw the soldiers to you. Setting off the fire alarm would do the trick. I can do the rest.’

  ‘What exactly do you plan to do?’ asked Chris.

  ‘You don’t need to know the details,’ said the headmaster. ‘Just draw their attention and I’ll take care of them. Just be sure to wait until the full moon.’

  Chris shuddered at the prospect of Mr Canning turning into a fully-changed werewolf. He remembered his encounter with one of the creatures the night of the previous full moon. He and Seth had almost died. But this time, the werewolf would be on their side, at least, if Mr Canning could be trusted. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of choice in the matter. ‘I’ll have to talk to Seth about it,’ he said.

  ‘You do that,’ said Mr Canning.

  ‘If he says no, then I won’t be able to help you.’

  ‘I understand,’ said the headmaster. ‘But in that case, I really will have no alternative but to eat you.’

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Electric Avenue, Brixton, South London, waxing moon

  The food shop was a long way from Richmond and it took Melanie and James over an hour to walk there. Melanie was glad she’d worn sensible shoes for once.

  She was helping James stock up on food when a face from her past appeared in front of the fruit and vegetable counter. ‘Ben Harvey,’ she muttered, stunned. He was busy stocking the shelves with potatoes and carrots. She stared at him in amazement. It had been six months since she’d last seen him and she’d thought she’d never see him again. Not that she’d ever stopped thinking about him. She’d thought of him a lot recently.

  But the last words she’d spoken to him had been cruel. Unforgivably cruel. You’re just a teacher, she’d told him in a fit of petulant rage. And you’ll never be any more than that. How could she have said such a thing? She’d been so stupid, she could have slapped herself. Somebody should have slapped her, and slapped her hard. But Ben had been too much of a gentleman to do anything like that. Instead he’d hung his head mournfully and walked away from her in silence. She’d wished a hundred times that she could unsay those words, but words were like arrows. They could never be recalled.

  Her neck and face burned red with shame.

  ‘Mel,’ he said, equally surprised. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘Shopping,’ she said quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment. ‘You know me. What else am I good at?’

  He stared at her for a moment, then grinned. Then he laughed. ‘I can think of a few things,’ he said, and her neck turned redder.

  She felt a surge of relief. Relief and gratitude. ‘You look …,’ she stopped abruptly, unsure of what to say. He looked tired. Older. No, that was being kind. His bloodshot eyes, dishevelled hair and unshaven face and neck gave him a ghastly appearance. Ben had always cared for himself so well. ‘You look rugged,’ she managed at last. She held her palm to his bearded cheek. It felt soft, rather than coarse. With a decent trim, it might even suit him. ‘You could use a proper haircut though,’ she added.

  He laughed again. ‘I’ve been too busy to worry about my appearance,’ he said. ‘Or even to sleep much.’ He gestured around the shop. ‘You were right. Teaching wasn’t much of a career after all, so I moved into retail instead. Who knows what I might be doing next week?’

  He was mocking her, but his tone was friendly. She could sense no malice in his words. ‘I’m sorry about what I said,’ she told him. ‘It was stupid. I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I forgave you months ago. How about you? What have you been up to recently?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Melanie. She decided not to mention the fact that she’d spent the past two weeks convalescing in bed, and the fortnight before that tied to someone else’s bed. She gave him a smile. ‘You know, I’m just a non-stop party girl. The good times don’t stop just because civilization is coming to an end.’

  He looked her up and down. ‘Well, I see that you’re still the best-dressed woman this side of the apocalypse.’ A frown knitted his brow then and he touched her forehead gently with his fingers. ‘What happened here?’ he asked, brushing her hair aside to reveal the scar where the maniac with the cricket bat had struck her.

  ‘Oh nothing,’ said Melanie. ‘An accident with a party game. It’s almost healed. I’d forgotten it was still there.’

  Ben still looked concerned, but he turned his attention to James. ‘Who’s this?’

  What should she say to that? Meet James, he’s a friendly werewolf. We keep him at home. He killed a man, you know, but don’t worry, he’s perfectly well house-trained now.

  ‘This is James,’ she said aloud. ‘James Beaumont. His parents live close by. We’re just buying some food for them.’

  Ben held out a hand to James. ‘Beaumont,’ he said thoughtfully, shaking the boy’s hand. ‘Where exactly do your parents live?’

  James looked startled by the question. ‘Do you know them?’ he asked. ‘They have a house overlooking Clapham Common.’

  ‘Overlooking the Common. Mr and Mrs Beaumont. Yes, I think I do know them.’

  ‘Oh,’ said James. ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ben. He stopped, as if he was trying to remember something. ‘They …’

  ‘They’ll be wondering where on earth James has got to,’ intervened Melanie hurriedly. ‘Come on, James, we need to go and pay for this food. Let’s hope you’ve got enough money or Mr Harvey here might have to throw us out.’

  Ben was looking at James in puzzlement, but he said nothing in response.

  Melanie steered James toward the checkout, then turned to say goodbye to Ben. ‘Take care, Ben. Maybe I’ll see you again soon?’

  He nodded. ‘I hope so, Melanie. I’d like that. It would be nice.’

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Electric Avenue, Brixton, South London, waxing moon

  A cold sense of dread gripped James, and he couldn’t get out of the food shop quickly enough. Fortunately there was no problem with paying for his purchases. He handed over all the cash Sarah had given him, and the Polish shopkeeper took it from him greedily, grunting in satisfaction.

  ‘He knows,’ whispered James to Melanie as soon as they were outside. ‘That man, Ben Harvey, he knows my parents. He must know about me. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Melanie. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘How can we not?’ demanded James. ‘He’s probably already guessed that I’m a werewolf. Or if he hasn’t he soon will.’

  ‘Maybe,’ admitted Melanie. ‘But I don’t think he’ll say anything to anyone.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Because I know Ben Harvey. I trust him.’

  ‘You love him, don’t you?’ said James. ‘He loves you too. I can tell.’

  Melanie laughed. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘We’re just old friends.’

  But James knew that wasn’t true. He knew Melanie well enough by now.

  ‘All right,’ she admitted. ‘We were more than friends once. But that’s all over. I hadn’t seen him for months. I’d practically forgotten about him.’

  James still wasn’t convinced.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘since you’re so interested in my love life, it’s like this. We dated for a while last summer. We had some fun together. But we were wrong for each other. Or at least, I was wrong for him. It was never going to last. He deserves better.’

  They walked along together, heading for Clapham Common. James’ nervousness about Ben Harvey had subsided a little after Melanie’s assurances, but he still didn’t believe her story about Be
n. It was typical of Melanie to put herself down. ‘Love can never be wrong, you know,’ he said at last. ‘Samuel taught me that. If two people love each other, it can’t ever be wrong.’

  Melanie sighed in exasperation. ‘Sometimes people can love each other and still be wrong,’ insisted Melanie. ‘They can be wrong for each other. Or maybe one person doesn’t deserve to be loved. Anyway, Ben doesn’t love me, he was just being polite.’

  ‘You do deserve to be loved,’ insisted James. ‘Everyone does. God loves us all, so even if you think you don’t deserve it, you’re wrong. Anyway, it’s obvious that Ben still loves you. Even I can see that.’

  The discussion came to an end when they turned the next corner. The Common stretched out before them, its park-like expanse still perfect, despite everything that had happened. Close-cropped grass gave way to distant trees, and he could even see the duck pond that his mum had taken him to so often as a small child. He felt a tear well up and had to choke it back.

  And overlooking the park stood the grand Victorian house that he had once called home. Five stories tall it stood, an end of terrace property with a basement, and attic rooms that had once housed servants. One of those rooms had been James’ bedroom. He wondered what was there now. Would it be exactly as he had left it, that day he had gone to school and never returned? A memorial, frozen in time? Or would his parents have thrown all his old things away and stripped it bare, ashamed of what their son had done? Of who, or what, he had become.

  He turned to Melanie. ‘I can’t go to the house,’ he said. ‘They mustn’t see me.’ He glanced around nervously. ‘No one must see me.’ What had he been thinking of coming back here? Neighbours, school friends, anyone might see him. What would he say to anyone who recognized him?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Melanie, ‘I’ll take the food to the door. I’ll just ring the bell, hand it over and leave. Okay?’

  James nodded gratefully.

  ‘Do you want me to say anything to them? Anything about you? Or shall I ask them anything?’