Blood Moon (3 page)

The officer got to his feet, a smile on his lips. He extended his hand to Steven, shaking it in a vice-like grip. “Mr Wilkinson, it’s good to finally meet face-to-face. I’m Colonel Brian Richards, the CO of this base. Mr Fletcher and Mr Patterson you already know. The rest are Lieutenant Derek Foster, Sergeant Jayne Peyton, Corporal Aaron Raines, Private Roland Lewis and Private Fay Cross. We’re just waiting for one more person to join us before we begin.” He turned to Rose. “Doctor Fisher, would you see if Doctor Channing is going to grace us with his presence?”

Rose nodded and got to her feet. She’d almost made it to the doors when they burst open and a tall, thin man wearing horn-rimmed spectacles, a white, bloodstained surgical smock and gore-encrusted rubber gloves strode into the room. The man glared at the Colonel. “What is it now, Richards? I’m in the middle of something important.”

The Colonel gave Doctor Channing a thin smile. “We’ll try not to keep you long, Doctor. In fact, we might as well start with you. What have you found so far?”

Doctor Channing huffed and rolled his eyes. “The creature’s blood is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The cells are more animal than human, although I’m
still
waiting on the DNA analysis from those imbeciles in Wroughton. The two I’ve examined so far appear to have similar regenerative abilities, however, Mr Wilkinson’s capacity for healing is seriously inhibited by silver. The other creature appears to be unaffected by it.”

Steven raised an eyebrow. “You have one in custody? If it’s healing from a silver wound then it’s a member of a pack field team. I’d watch your back. They don’t tend to leave their people behind.”

The room went silent for a moment. Steven noticed Paul clench his fists into tight balls, while Phil looked physically sick. Given their recent experiences with pack werewolves, Steven couldn’t say he blamed them.

The Colonel gave Steven a thin smile. “I can assure you, Mr Wilkinson, we have taken every precaution. Please, Doctor, continue.”

Doctor Channing exhaled in irritation at the interruption. “Anyway, I’ve yet to determine exactly how the transformation occurs, however there appears to be some evidence of a viral vector that I’m attempting to isolate, which may explain how an individual becomes infected. Beyond that, it’s almost impossible to learn more with a living subject. The damn thing heals before I can do any real exploratory surgery. If you’d only allow me to dissect him properly, then we might get somewhere.”

The Colonel shook his head. “We’ve discussed this before, Doctor. With the exception of Mr Wilkinson here, who is our guest and is not to be harmed, I can’t sanction the termination of our only living werewolf. As far as we know, he’s the only one in captivity anywhere in the world.”

“Then, Colonel Richards, I suggest you get me something else to work with. There are too many disparities between the two subjects we currently have, and the Hamilton woman was too badly damaged to give much insight. I need more subjects to continue my work.”

Colonel Richards smiled at this. “And that, Doctor, is precisely why I’ve brought us all together today.”

21st December 2008. Trecorras Cottage, Llangarron, Herefordshire. 15:30

“Marie, he’ll be here in a minute. Can you please do the drying up? Like I asked you to do an hour ago.”

Marie groaned and tried to push herself up from the sofa. The makeshift stitches across her side tugged at her tender skin, and she felt a couple pop loose. A warm trickle of blood ran down the inside of her t-shirt, staining the white fabric a deep crimson.

“Marie?”

She bristled at the sound of his voice, but bit down her irritation, almost managing to keep it out of her voice. “Alright, I’m doing it now.”

“And can you pick your clothes up off the bedroom floor? And did you remember to clean the toilet?”

“Why would Daniel go into our bedroom? Just close the fucking door and he won’t see the clothes.”

“Marie, just do it, please.” John’s voice had acquired an edge that Marie didn’t like, however, she decided not to push the point.

She shuffled through to the kitchen and began half-heartedly drying up the cutlery and plates, keeping one eye on the long gravel track that was the only route to or from the isolated house.

John bustled into the kitchen and began spraying down the worktops with disinfectant and scrubbing them vigorously with paper towels, even though, as far as Marie was concerned, they looked perfectly clean. The chemicals burned her nostrils, causing her to sneeze. He stopped, threw the towels in the waste bin and turned to her. “Did you pick your clothes up yet?”

“For fuck’s sake, you only asked me ten seconds ago. I’ve been doing this, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ten seconds? I asked you last night. And this morning. And half an hour ago.”

“Can you give me a break? I’m supposed to be recuperating here. And I doubt Daniel is going to care about the odd dirty sock or wet cup.”

John glared at her and lifted his shirt to show the blood-stained bandage beneath. “You aren’t the only one with injuries. And it doesn’t matter if Daniel cares or not. I care. I don’t want him coming in here thinking that we live like pigs. Can you stop moaning for five bloody minutes and help me get this place looking presentable?”

“Okay, okay. Just stop firing lists of fucking instructions at me. I’ll sort it out before he gets here.”

John looked past her, down the snow-flecked track, to the plume of dust rising above the bare hedgerows. “Too late. That must be him now.”

“Alright.”

“And Marie…”

“Yes?”

“Can you change your t-shirt before he gets here? That one’s got blood all over it.”

Marie sighed in exasperation and trudged out of the kitchen, into the long hallway, towards the staircase.

“And put your fucking dirty t-shirt in the wash basket,” John yelled from the kitchen.

Marie bit back the comment that was on the tip of her tongue and made her way up the stairs. She was not looking forward to this. Not one little bit.

***

Marie sipped her tea, feeling the hot liquid burn the inside of her mouth. If she was honest with herself, the momentary pain was a welcome distraction from the tense atmosphere in the living room. Daniel clearly wasn’t comfortable with coming out here to live under the same roof as two of the most wanted people in the country. It was a necessary compromise, however, as neither John nor she could exactly pop down to the local shop when they ran out of milk, or deal with any unexpected visitors. The local vicar had made the half-mile trek to the cottage a couple of days ago, forcing John and Marie to hide upstairs until he’d gone.

Then there was John. He’d been behaving like a complete arse ever since he’d found out Daniel was coming out here. Actually, she corrected herself, he’d been behaving like an arsehole ever since their escape from Scotland. Clearly, he had no idea how to share a living space with other people. She bit back her irritation and tried to break the leaden silence.

“So… Daniel… this is John.”

Daniel held out his hand, but John didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he glared at the big German and said flatly, “We’ve met.”

“What do you mean? When did you ever meet Daniel?”

John’s lip curled up. “Well, he wasn’t wearing an Armani suit last time.” He leaned forward in his seat, fixing Daniel with his gaze. “Fur coat, wasn’t it, mate?”

The penny dropped. “Oh, fucking hell. You mean…”

John’s eyes blazed. “Yes, I fucking mean. In the woods outside of High Moor. That was you trying to kill me, wasn’t it,
Daniel
.”

Daniel put his hands up. “It was, but that was before. Things are different now. Circumstances have changed.”

“You talk about it like it’s ancient history. It was a week and a fucking half ago!”

Daniel’s shoulders tensed. “Yes, and I can’t help but wonder if we would be in the same situation if Gregorz and I had succeeded in our mission. I…” Daniel stopped himself from finishing the sentence and exhaled, as if to rein in his anger. “No. The situation would have remained the same. Connie would still have slaughtered that police woman. Michael would still have ordered her home, and she would have gone after Wilkinson anyway. The unfortunate position we find ourselves in is not your fault,” he gave Marie a sideways glance that made her cheeks flush scarlet, “not entirely. Please, accept my apologies.”

Marie glared at John. “You have nothing to apologise for, Daniel. We should be apologising to you.” John looked as if he were about to speak, but Marie silenced him with a look. “Like you say, everything’s different. We have to deal with what’s happening right now and not get caught up on the past. Right, John?”

John murmured his assent and seemed to, if not relax, at least shift his body into a less threatening posture.

Satisfied that the situation had been defused for the time being, Marie turned to face Daniel. “Have you heard anything else from Russia?”

“The situation is not good. Krysztof and Lukas are taking control and they have the support of the Moonborn pack members. They’ve issued a death warrant for you, alongside the one for Simpson, but have stopped short at declaring Michael a traitor. There are still a lot of members loyal to him, and they don’t want to risk dividing the pack. Not yet, anyway.”

“Then the sooner we break Michael out the better.”

Daniel laughed. “Marie, there’s not a great deal we can do just yet.” He motioned to John. “Simpson’s injuries won’t heal until the next full moon, and then there’s you…”

Marie bristled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, as I understand it, you’re human now.”

“So what? I’m still a trained pack operative, and if anything, that’ll work to our advantage on an infiltration mission. Their IR sensors won’t pick up anything out of the ordinary, and their bloody sonic countermeasures won’t do a damn thing to me either.”

“And if they shoot you, you’ll die.”

“I’m not leaving my brother locked up in that base for a second longer than he needs to be.”

Daniel shook his head. “I know, but you need to be realistic. We have to do a proper reconnaissance and come up with a workable plan. We can’t just go charging in there unprepared. Are you even sure that your information is correct?”

Marie’s shoulders sagged. “Alright. We’ll do it your way. For now. And yes, I’m certain Michael is there. We have a couple of field operatives within the UK military, and one of them tipped me off. I’ve already been checking the place out, and a few of the staff have Michael’s scent all over them. I’ve got a couple of ideas of how we can get in and out without raising the alarm. With any luck, they won’t even notice Michael’s gone until we’re far away.”

Chapter 2

22nd December 2008. Parklands Close, South Molton, Devon. 14:17

Sophie Riley flopped down on the bed and glared at the back of her cousin’s head. “Adam, it’s my turn now. I want to play!”

Adam Kosovan ignored her and continued to blow zombies into bloody fragments. Sophie felt her annoyance grow, and she tugged on the older boy’s arm just as a particularly fat zombie stumbled from an open doorway, vomiting green bile across the screen.

Adam’s shoulders tensed as the screen blurred and hordes of undead attacked him from all directions. Seconds later, the screen turned red, and he swore under his breath.

“Adam! You’re dead now. It’s my turn.”

“Yeah, but it’s
your
fault that I died. I’m having another go because of that.”

“But it’s
my
Xbox, you ball-bag. Mum told you to let me share. Can’t we play split screen or something?”

“No, I don’t like split screen games. You can’t see what you’re doing, and you’re too young to play this anyway. Can’t you play on your Nintendo or something and stop bothering me? It’s bad enough that I’ve had to come all the way over here with my bloody parents, without you buzzing around me like a fly.”

“I don’t want to play on my DS. It’s crap. I want to have a go on my Xbox and play
The Sim
s.”

Adam arched an eyebrow at her, stuck out his tongue and then hit restart on his zombie game.

Sophie jumped up from the bed and stomped to her bedroom door. “Right, I’m telling my mum. Then you’ll be in trouble.”

Adam’s attention was back on the game. “Suit yourself. You’ll be the one that gets in trouble though. They told you to stay up here and not bother them while they talk.”

Sophie spun on her heels, strode to her bedroom door, then let herself out onto the landing and crept downstairs. She knew her parents had been serious when she’d been sent to her room with Adam. Her father had made it very clear that both children were to stay upstairs and not bother them because they had important things to talk about. But this was important as well. It was
her
Xbox. Just because Adam was older than she was shouldn’t mean that he got his own way all the time.

She made her way down the staircase, carefully placing her feet so as to avoid the creaking floorboards. If her parents heard her coming down, she’d be sent packing without having a chance to explain herself. Besides, she quite wanted to know what was so important that her Aunt Kasha and Uncle Dmitri had come all the way from Bristol, bringing Adam-the-snot-eater with them. It didn’t even look like they’d brought Christmas presents, unless they were still hidden in the car somewhere. Yes, she decided, they must be still in the car. Even so, she wanted to know what was going on. She reached the bottom step and sat down, straining her ears.