Blood Moon (19 page)

31st December 2008. Coronation Estate, High Moor. 18:48

Helen Baxter frowned in exasperation. Her older sister could be a stubborn cow when she put her mind to it. “Are you sure that you won’t come with us? We can drop little Matthew off at the church hall and paint the town red, like the old days.”

Sharon leaned back in the chair and folded her arms. “No, honestly. I won’t be much fun and I wouldn’t want to cramp you and Chelfyn’s style. I’ll go to the crèche with the kids and make sure Matthew gets home safe afterwards.”

Helen wasn’t going to be put off so easily. “Look, Sharon, I know the last few weeks have been hard, but I’m sure that Phil’s okay. You sitting around moping isn’t going to bring him home any faster.”

The cheerful façade Sharon had worn fell away, and her face creased with concern. “I know, but honestly, it’s starting to wear me down. They won’t even let me talk to him anymore. National security or some shit. The last time they let him phone me was Christmas Eve. I just can’t help but think the worst. That maybe something’s happened and they aren’t telling me.”

Helen crouched down so that she was level with her sister and put her hands on her shoulders. “I know. I get it, and first thing on Monday morning we’re going to get onto the solicitors and start getting some answers out of the bastards. But there’s fuck all that you or I can do about it in the meantime, so please, get your glad-rags on, come with us to the restaurant and then, who knows… maybe we’ll head over to the
Sandpiper
. The DJ this year is meant to be over from Ukraine or something. Been a while since we’ve been to a proper rave.”

Sharon arched her eyebrow. “Some numpty playing hard-house in the
Sandpiper
isn’t exactly what I’d call a rave.” She winked at her sister. “Not like the old days, anyway. You remember that party on the moors back in ninety two?”

Helen’s cheeks turned scarlet and she punched her sister on the arm. “How could I forget, that was the night…”

The door to the sitting room burst open, and Mandy, Helen’s fifteen year old daughter, swept into the room like a tornado. Helen hastily put her finger to her lips to prevent Sharon from continuing the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was put ideas into her rebellious daughter’s head.

“Mam, I can’t find my stockings. Where did you put them?”

Helen rolled her eyes. “Have you tried the airing cupboard? And if you think that you’re going anywhere dressed like that, young lady, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

Mandy puffed up like an angry cockerel at that remark. “What’s that supposed to mean? Dressed like what?”

“That skirt might as well be a bloody belt. And if that top showed any more cleavage it would be see through. Where do you think you’re going that needs you to dress up like a tart?”

Mandy’s hands went to her hips in an unconscious imitation of her mother’s posture. “I’m just going round Anna’s house, with Amy and Kat.”

“Oh, really. And what are you going to be doing round there?”

“Nothing. Just going to watch some films and listen to some music.”

“And you need to dress like that to go round Anna’s house, do you?”

Mandy’s voice acquired an indignant, whiny edge. “Mam, it’s New Year’s Eve. We just thought it’d be fun to dress up a bit, you know?”

“Dressing up is fine. You just aren’t wearing those clothes. Go upstairs and put something respectable on, or I’ll come up there and pick something out for you.”

Mandy opened her mouth to protest, but then appeared to think better of it, and instead turned and stomped from the room. Helen waited until her daughter was out of earshot before she burst out laughing. “Oh, God, was I ever like that?”

“You were worse than that. A lot worse. You know what, though? You sounded exactly like Mum just then.”

“Oh piss off. You’ll be telling me I’m getting bingo wings next.”

Sharon smirked. “Well, I didn’t want to bring it up…”

Helen’s mouth dropped open in semi-mock outrage. “Fuck off, you cheeky cow. I don’t even like bingo,” she gave Sharon a sly smirk, “anyway, I’d rather have the bingo wings than the turkey neck you’re getting.”

Sharon’s eyes widened. “Turkey neck? I do not have a bloody turkey neck.”

“Must be from back in the day. You know… all that ‘gobble gobble’. They say you are what you eat.”

Sharon was about to respond when Chelfyn, Helen’s husband, wandered into the room with his shirt half buttoned. “Do you know where my socks are, Love? Can’t seem to find them anywhere.”

Helen pointed to the door. “Have you tried the airing cupboard? Or the sock drawer?”

Chelfyn nodded. “Ah, no. Thanks, love,” then turned around and started up the stairs. A few seconds later, a muted “Found them,” came from the corridor.

“Well,” said Helen, “At least I know where our Mandy gets it from.”

“Are you sure you won’t come with us? It’ll be like the old days. Just you and me… well… and that useless bugger, but no change there. Come on. Angela and Tonia are running the New Year crèche and they’ll take care of Matthew. Come out with us. Save me from spending a night on the piss alone with my husband.”

Sharon shook her head, but the smile on her face remained, and for the first time in weeks, seemed to be genuine. “No. Really. I’ll help Tonia and Angela with the kids. You go and enjoy yourself. Sink a few G&T’s for me, eh?”

Helen conceded defeat. Decades of experience had taught her that once Sharon’s mind was made up about something, that was that. “Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ll have my phone on me. Just give me a ring to find out where we are, okay?”

Sharon nodded. “Okay. If I change my mind I’ll call. Don’t hold your breath, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know what a stubborn cow you can be when you set your mind to something. The offer’s open, though.”

The door swung open, and Ian, Helen’s oldest son, entered the room with a confused expression on his face. “Mam, have you…”

Helen and Sharon both pointed to the door and said, “Airing cupboard,” in unison, and broke into uncontrollable gales of laughter as a confused looking Ian turned around and left in search of his clothes.

Helen hugged Sharon tight. “I love you, you know, you miserable old cow.”

Sharon kissed her sister on the forehead. “I know. Now you’d better go and get sorted out, otherwise it’ll be gone midnight by the time you plaster your face.”

Helen smiled and walked towards the door. “Fuck you, you old trollop.”

Sharon grinned back at her. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

31st December 2008. Weardale Industrial Estate, High Moor. 19:15

Daniel got out of the car and sighed. The town of High Moor stretched out below him; an orange neon organism with the white glow of car headlights pulsing through its arteries. Thousands of unsuspecting people were getting ready to celebrate the start of the New Year. Soon, the bars, restaurants and houses of High Moor would begin to fill up. Families and friends coming together to put the horrors of the last few months behind them, and to look forward in hope to what the next year would bring. Hoping and praying that those terrible events of October and November would be the end of their ordeal. Not realising that the worst was yet to come.

He looked across the car park of the deserted industrial estate to where the others waited in their vehicles. Waited for him to give the signal to commence the slaughter of the innocents in the town. Forty werewolves. Men, women and children with nothing but the anger in their hearts and the savagery of their wolves to guide them. He had to try to stop this; talk some sense into Krysztof and Lukas. His heart sank, and he knew the attempt was doomed to failure before he made the call. Even so, he needed to try.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved the satellite phone, then punched in the number. After a few seconds, the connection was made and Krysztof’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Comrade Braun. Is everything ready?”

“Everyone is in place, Krysztof, but I wanted to ask you. Beg you one more time. Stop this insanity. Please. This assault will be the end of us. There will be no going back after this.”

“Bah, you are going soft, Daniel. You spent too much time with Gregorz. There was no going back once the humans learned of our existence. What would you have us do? Cower in basements like beaten dogs, waiting for them to hunt us down? No. They must learn that there are consequences when they seek us out. For every one of us they capture or kill, we will slaughter or turn a hundred of them. A thousand. Let us see how they handle thousands of moonstruck rampaging through their cities on the next full moon. I think, perhaps, they will be too busy with that to worry about us.”

“There is growing support for us within the humans, Krysztof. Some of the media outlets are questioning their tactics. Not all of the humans agree with the actions of their governments. If we do this tonight, that support will vanish. We will prove ourselves to be the monsters they fear us to be.”

“What do I care for their support? Their sympathy? They believe us to be monsters, and they are right. They feared our kind for centuries. It is time they learned to fear us again. Now, tell me of the plan.”

Daniel’s shoulders sagged. He’d known he’d get nowhere with Krysztof. Lukas he could have perhaps reasoned with. Not the big Armenian though. Once his mind was set, there was not a force on this earth that would make him change it. “I have teams assigned to the power substation, the telephone exchange and the mobile telephone towers. We will take out the police station first, and then, on the stroke of midnight, we’ll black the town out and begin the assault.”

“Good. Good. Now, don’t let me keep you from your task, Comrade Braun. We will speak again tomorrow, after your work is done.”

The line went dead. He looked at the phone with a mixture of revulsion and fear, but for the second time in as many weeks, resisted the urge to smash the device into fragments. He put the phone back into his pocket, then looked up at the two young werewolves that had got out of their car during his conversation with his Alpha. Matty Cash and Melissa Grove had lost their entire families on Christmas Eve, and had been among the first to volunteer for assignment. They were eager, bloodthirsty, but relatively young and inexperienced. Neither of them older than twenty one or twenty two. Unfortunately, they were also the best he had to work with.

“Well?” said Matty. “Are we on?”

Daniel fought against the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew the others had been listening in on the conversation. There was no way to hide something like that from beings with enhanced senses such as they possessed. Which meant that if he tried to lie to them, they would tear him apart where he stood, then rampage through the town below without restraint. At least with him in charge of things, some of the humans in High Moor might survive the night, even if it was in an altered state of being. He had his orders and there was no turning back now.

“Yes. We are on. You and Melissa know what to do.”

The two young wolves grinned at him, then rushed back to their car and drove away. The plan was in motion now. Nothing could stop it.

Daniel crossed himself. “May God have mercy upon me for what I have done, and for what I am about to do.” Then he turned towards the other waiting vehicles and went to give the wolves their orders.

31st December 2008. High Moor Police Station. 20:35

Constable Stephen Bacon got out of his squad car and keyed in the access code for the police station rear door. The magnetic lock clicked open, and he nodded a greeting to Bruce Blanchard, one of the private security staff who administered the station’s custody suite, while Constable Pete Gibbons got out of the car’s passenger side and stood beside him.

Bruce smiled. “Evening, lads. Looks like the night’s festivities are kicking off nice and early this year. What’ve you got for me?”

Stephen looked back over to the police car, and the two shapes on the back seat. “Two of them. One male, one female. Early twenties. Caught them kicking the shit out of some poor bastard on the high street. The woman bit a chunk right out of the kid’s arm. Gave me a couple of nasty scratches as well while Pete and I were getting the cuffs on them. The pair of them have been quiet as lambs since we restrained them though. Not a peep out of either on the journey here.”

Bruce stroked his chin. “You think we’re going to need some more bodies to get them inside?”

Stephen thought about this for a second, then nodded his assent. “Yeah. No sense in making this harder than it needs to be. Better get Paul off his fat arse to give us a hand in case they decide to get frisky.”

“I heard that, you cheeky tosser,” said Paul Mannering’s disembodied voice from an adjacent room. After some shuffling and muttered curse words, the large bearded man appeared, fastening his belt as he walked. “I wasn’t sat on my arse. I was having a shit.”

Stephen winked at Pete and Bruce. “There’d better not be splatter marks on the seat again.”

Paul flashed two fingers at the police officers, then tilted his head towards the squad car. “So, what’s the story with the two love birds?”

“Assault, GBH and resisting arrest. Usual crap for New Year. This pair started the festivities earlier than most, but they’ll have plenty of company by midnight, I’m sure.”

Bruce sighed. “No doubt. I fucking hate New Year’s Eve. Gives all the piss-heads and idiots licence to run riot. We’ll probably be packing them in like sardines before the end of the night.” He started towards the parked car. “Come on then. Might as well get these two out of the way before it all kicks off.”

Pete joined Bruce by the driver’s side door, while Stephen and Paul walked around to the opposite side. Stephen tapped on the glass. “Come on then, you two. Got a nice cosy cell for you to ring the New Year in from. Still, could be worse. You could be spending it in A&E like that poor bastard you gave a kicking to.”

Paul cracked his knuckles. “It’s still not too late. Any shit from either of you and you might accidentally fall down some stairs, if you catch my meaning.”