The Alpha's Search (The Craven Trilogy, #1) (6 page)

“I don't think so.” Ginger pushed his friend away, and took hold of my arm himself.

A sickening thud filled the corridor. Ginger was slumped against the far wall—his face bloodied. Craven was standing between me and the other two guys. They took one look at their stricken friend, turned, and ran away.

“Are you okay?” Craven gently brushed my cheek with his fingers.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“I'll never let you come to any harm. I'd lay down my life before I allow that.”

I didn't know how to respond. It sounded like a line, but I could see in his eyes he meant every word. I barely knew the man. How could he possibly feel that way? It made no sense—unless—unless everything he told me was true. But surely that was nonsense.

*********

I
t was early evening. We'd been on the road most of the day. In the distance, I could see city lights. Craven pulled into a lay-by and stepped out of the vehicle without a word. He had his back to me, but I could see him moving his head from side to side. He appeared to be sniffing the air.

“This is the place,” he announced when he returned to the car.

“Where are we?”

“Our new home.”

“You haven't seen anything of the place yet.”

“I don't need to.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“Checking the locals.” He smiled. “Trust me Louise, this is where we belong.”

“Why do you insist on calling me Louise? My name's Jackie.”

He laughed.

“What's so damn funny? How would you like it if I called you by a different name? Maybe I'll start calling you Raymond. Is that okay?”

“I love you, Louise.”

“Screw you, Raymond.”

“Are you kidding me?” I glanced at the run-down motel. “It's a dump.”

“It'll serve our purpose for now. We won't be here for long.”

“I want my own room.” I grabbed the holdall from the back seat.

“I need you where I can keep an eye on you. We'll share a room.”

“Only if it's a twin,” I said.

“If you insist.”

How I wanted to slap that grin off his face.

The motel was on the outskirts of the city. Our room was around the back.

“The heating in here is naff.” I kicked the radiator.

“I can warm you up.” Craven glanced at the twin-beds. “We could always push them together.”

“Forget it.”

He feigned disappointment. “I need to check the area.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No. You stay here. I won't be long.”

“Please yourself.” I wasn't about to beg.

“Don't open the door to anyone except me.”

I shrugged.

“I mean it.”

“Okay. Keep your hair on.”

I'd assumed Craven was taking a drive into the city, but our car was still in the car park. Why would he have gone on foot? I needed a distraction, so I tried the TV, only to find there was a choice of two channels, and one of those was a shopping channel. Fantastic!

“Do you have a phone I can use?” I asked.

“Ain't you got your own mobile?” The surly woman on reception said before wiping her nose on the back of her hand. A real class act.

I was tempted to tell her I wouldn't be asking if I had, but instead I smiled and shook my head.

“There's a pay phone around the back.” She snuffled and cleared her throat. “Don't know if it still works. No one uses it no more.”

“Thanks.”

The room appeared to have once been some kind of games room. A pool table with a ripped cloth stood in the centre of the floor; a dartboard hung on the back of the door. On the far wall, next to the window, was a pay phone. Going by the amount of dust on the coinbox, it hadn't been used or emptied in some time. I wasn't optimistic as I put the receiver to my ear, but to my surprise there was a dial tone.

“Dexter Travel. Sarah speaking. How may I help you?”

I'd made the call, but hadn't given a thought to what I'd say. She'd want to know where I was and what was happening. What would I tell her? What could I tell her? I'd just wanted to hear a familiar voice.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

Did Sarah know about Alison's murder? She must do. The police would have been sure to interview both her and Candice. Did she think I'd murdered Alison? No—she would know I wasn't capable of that.

“Hello.” The impatience in her voice was now evident.

I hung up. I should never have made the call. If Craven knew, he'd be majorly pissed off. Speaking of Craven, where the hell had he gone?

I took a walk around the perimeter of the motel—he was nowhere to be seen. Why did I even care? Maybe he'd had enough of my moaning, and had gone back to wherever he came from. Good riddance.

The surly receptionist ignored me when I walked past her desk. Back in our room, there was still no sign of Craven. With nothing better to do, I lay on the bed. The day's events must have caught up with me because I soon drifted into a deep sleep. For once, I didn't have nightmares.

It was dark outside when I woke up. I checked the time—almost nine o' clock—I'd been asleep for hours. There was still no sign of Craven, so I risked another visit to reception. The surly young woman had been replaced by an equally surly old man who told me he '
ain't seen anyone
'. Judging by the number of cars in the car park, he was probably telling the truth. There were only three, and one of those was ours. At least I had transport if Craven didn't come back.

The car park was in almost total darkness; three out of the four floodlights were out. As I walked towards our car, I heard a sound in the distance, and thought I saw movement near the fence.

“Craven?”

I could just about make out the figure now. It wasn't Craven. It wasn't a man at all. It was an animal. A dog? No, it was too big for a dog. My heart sank as I recognised the shape. A wolf—bigger than the one Craven had scared away. It was on the other side of the fence, so maybe I could make it back to the motel. I sprinted across the car park, and burst into the motel reception. The old man behind the desk almost jumped out of his seat.

“What the hell are you doing?” he screamed at me.

“Wolf!” I managed to say as I tried to catch my breath. “There's a wolf out there.”

He laughed. “Don't be stupid. There are no wolves around here.”

“I just saw it.”

“I've lived here for almost thirty years, and I can tell you there are no wolves for a hundred miles.”

It was my turn to jump when the door opened behind me.

“Craven? Where the hell have you been?”

“Nowhere. What's wrong? Why are you out of breath?”

“This young'un reckons we've got wolves.” The old guy laughed.

“I saw it!” I said. I looked to Craven for support.

“I didn't see anything.” Craven shook his head.

“It was at the far side of the car park—just beyond the fence.”

“I've just been to check the car,” Craven said. “I didn't see anything.”

“You must have imagined it!” the old guy chimed in.

Before I could protest, Craven took my arm in his, and led me away. “We have to go!” There was urgency in his voice.

“I know what I saw!” I said as soon as we were back in our room.

“Never mind that now. Get your things. We have to leave.”

“Why? What's happened?”

“I'll explain later. Get your things.”

––––––––

C
raven settled the bill with cash, and then led the way to the car. I kept a watchful eye on the fence—I knew what I'd seen.

“What's going on?” I said as soon as we were on the road. Craven had abandoned his usual cautious driving style, and had his foot to the floor.

“Well?” I was getting royally pissed off.

“We've been followed.”

“Who? Lassiter?”

He shook his head.

“Who then? Where did you disappear to?”

He glanced at me, but still said nothing.

“If you don't tell me exactly what's going on, I'm getting out of this car, and heading back home.”

“Louise.” He took one hand off the steering wheel, and placed it on mine. “Please trust me—”

“I'm done trusting.” I pulled my hand away. “I want to know what's going on. Who's following us?”

“Okay. Okay.”

“I'm listening.”

“His name is Milton.”

“Another vampire I suppose?” I didn't try to disguise the snark in my voice.

“No. Not a vampire. He's from the Maja pack. He murdered Krell who was the Alpha at the time.”

“You're talking about wolves again aren't you?”

“Wolf shifters.”

“You never give up with this shit do you?”

“You said you wanted to know.”

“I want the truth. Is there really anyone following us? How do I know you aren't making all this crap up just to keep me with you?”

“You saw what Lassiter did to your friend.”

The image of Alison's body flashed across my mind. “Okay, carry on, but this had better be good.”

“Krell's daughter witnessed her father's betrayal, but escaped before Milton could dispose of her too. If she ever returns and reveals what she knows, it will be the end for Milton. He has made it his mission to seek her out and destroy her.”

“I still don't see what any of this has got to do with me.”

“It's Milton, or more likely his Beta or subs, who are following us.”

“Subs?”

“Subordinates. His troops if you like.”

“But why? What do they want?”

“Krell's daughter's name is Louise.”

“That's what you called me. Are you trying to tell me that I'm Krell's daughter? That I'm a wolf-shifter?” I laughed. “You're out of your tiny mind.”

I turned away and stared out of the window. It was dark, and I couldn't see anything except the occasional light in the distance. I had to get away from Craven at the first opportunity. The mad man who killed Alison might still be at liberty, but I'd be safe if I could get to the police. I'd tell them everything I knew, and they'd make sure I was protected until they had Lassiter under lock and key. I was going to tell them about Craven too. He was obviously insane and needed medical treatment at the very least.

“Louise? Are you okay?”

“Don't call me that.”

“I know it must be a shock. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No! I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap.”

“Okay.”

*********

I
woke up as we pulled into a large car park. It was just beginning to get light.

“Where are we?” My neck felt as though it had seized up.

“Darnston.” Craven turned off the ignition and unfastened his seat belt. “Grab your bag,”

There were only a dozen or so cars in the car park.

“What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. We'd better get breakfast—then we'll find a hotel.”

I was starving; breakfast sounded good.

There was no shortage of greasy-spoon cafes catering to the workers on their way to work. Craven chose one called 'The Sizzling Sausage'. The décor was nothing to write home about, and the man behind the counter was rude, but the breakfast, when it eventually arrived, was delicious. 

“Feel better for that?” Craven asked as he polished off the last of his fried bread.

I shrugged. It was going to take a lot more than breakfast to put things right.

“Are you okay?” He tried to touch my hand, but I pulled it away.

“I'm fine. I need the loo.”

I left Craven to pay while I made my way through to the back of the cafe. This was my chance. If I waited until we reached the hotel, I might not be able to sneak away. Next to the loo, was a door which appeared to lead to an alleyway. I tried the handle, but it was locked. Shit!

There was a small, square-shaped window in the loo—high above the sink. I pulled myself up onto the sink, and hoped it wouldn't break under my weight. There was no lock, but the latch on the window looked as though it had been painted over. I tugged at it with first one, and then both hands.

“Come on you bloody thing!” I cursed under my breath—hoping upon hope that no one would come into the loo. “Come on!”

Eventually it gave way and I was able to push the window open. I had no problem getting through the gap, but the drop was higher than I'd expected. The landing jolted my whole body, but I was still in one piece.

*********

“T
ake a seat please,” the policeman at the desk said. “I'll get someone to speak to you.”

“Thank you.”

The police station was only a few streets from the cafe where we'd had breakfast. I'd asked for directions from a man behind the counter at a newsagents. Craven would be looking for me—I was sure of that, but I didn't think he'd risk following me into the police station. I’d told the policeman on reception that I'd been abducted, and about the murder of my flatmate.

“Jackie Dale?” A middle-aged man appeared at a door next to the main counter. “Come with me would you please. I'm D.S. Westwood.”

“Would you like a drink?” he asked once I was seated at a table in what appeared to be an interview room.

“I'm okay, thanks.”

“I've checked with our people in Camthorpe. They confirm your story about your flatmate. Alison?”

I nodded.

“Maybe we should start there. With her murder.”

I told Westwood about Lassiter, and how he'd been to the flat once before when he'd posed as a delivery man.

“Did you actually see him kill her?”

“No. Not exactly. But it was definitely him. He had blood—” I hesitated. I didn't want to get into the whole vampire nonsense, so didn't think it would be wise to mention the blood on his lips. “He had Alison's blood on him.”

“Was there anyone else in the flat at the time?”

“Only the man who abducted me. His name's Craven.”

“How can you be sure it wasn't this other man—this Craven—who committed the murder.”

“It wasn't.”

“But you can't be sure. Might they have been working together?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Do you have any idea why Lassiter killed your friend?”

I shook my head. It was painful to think about Alison.

After a while, he moved on to ask me about my abduction.

“Why do you think he took you?”