100% Wolf (6 page)

Dr Foxwell Cripp had only one mission in life and
that was to destroy all werewolves. When he was a
young boy he had once spied over a neighbour's fence
and seen what so few people have: the Transwolfation
of a man into a wolf. He had hidden in fright as the
wolf – Mr Patterfall, a gentle, kindly old man – paced
slowly around his garden in the moonlight. Cripp
had seen no terrible violence, no attacks made by the
wolf, but that one vision had been enough to spark
his curiosity ... and his loathing. The old man died
soon after, before young Foxwell could work up the
courage to confront him about his secret. Instead he
watched horror films, read ghost stories and believed
all the tales about werewolves' savagery without
question. Everything he saw convinced him more that
werewolves were terrible and fearsome creatures. He
was certain that only he, who knew that they truly
existed, could save the world from their evil.

He had spent his life piecing together little bits
of stories and scraps of evidence. He did hours of
research in libraries. He tracked down rumours
of strange magical happenings behind high walls
and in ancient forests. His most valuable piece of
evidence, which he found in the dusty attic of a
half-ruined castle, was a confession. It had been
extracted three hundred years earlier from a man
arrested for theft. In an effort to save his own life,
he had promised to tell the 'greatest secret known
to man' and so he had betrayed the werefolk. He
had told of the Grand Growling, the High Howling,
of the Hidden Moonlight Gathering, of the Fangen
and the Weren. He had told of the Red Book of
Wolfen Names, which was always entrusted
to the Grand Growler. This book contains the
names of all the werefolk in Britain. Worse than
all this, the man had revealed the power of the
Moonstone and how it might be harnessed to find
the wolves. He had been judged insane, and left to
die in the dungeons. His confession had lain forgotten
until Dr Cripp found it and realised that he now
had the key to completing his mission. He must
find the Grand Growler.

The Hidden Moonlight Gathering of Werefolk
was held only twice a year. It was far too dangerous
for the werefolk to meet more often. The gatherings
were held at Farfang Castle or else at the home of
another member of the Fang Council. But it is not
easy to hide the evidence of a Blood-Red Hunt. And
slowly, over many years, Dr Cripp pieced together his
evidence. Farmers sometimes told tales of livestock
going missing. Mysterious beasts were often spotted
against the moonlight. Strange growling and howling
was heard on the night air. These occurrences were
often reported in the newspapers as 'big cats' escaped
from zoos, but Cripp knew better. He made it his
business to find out about all such rumours and
he very carefully marked an 'X' on his map when
he did.

The Lupin family had been very careful that no
such rumours should ever exist in Milford. It was
the one area on Cripp's map of Britain that had no
'X' anywhere nearby. For twenty years, despite all his
efforts, he never did find another wolf, for the werefolk
knew about him. They too watched and had their
spies. And they had always outwitted him ... until
one infamous night some six years earlier.

Cripp would never have thought of going near
Milford until he had received a note written in blood.

You will find the Black Wolf of Milford in the stone
circle, on the full moon.

At last! He would finally have proof that there
were more wolves – that his neighbour had not been
the only one. Milford was famous for its ancient stone
circle. It lay in a clearing in the woods nearly two
miles from Farfang. There, Cripp had waited and the
wolf had come – running out of the dark forest into
the moonlight. That wolf had been Flasheart Lupin.
Cripp had shot the wolf and believed that, thanks to
him, one town at least had been freed from the terror of
the beast.

But now all his trails had run dry. He had not
discovered the Grand Growler, and his map had been
no help to him. So after many years he had returned
at last to Milford – the only town in which he knew
for certain a wolf had once lived. Perhaps there were
more? Little did he know that a wolf was standing
and watching him there and then, in the main street.

Freddy jumped back behind the tree. If Dr Cripp saw
him he would shoot him with a silver bullet for sure.
His skinny pink legs shivered with fright.

'Why is he in Milford?' Freddy whimpered. 'I must
warn Uncle Hotspur.'

A terrible thought occurred to him. What if Dr
Cripp had been to Farfang Castle already? Did he
know the Lupin family's secret? It didn't matter how
much Freddy disliked his uncle, he would have to
warn him. As Grand Growler, Uncle Hotspur was
guardian of the Wolfen Names. If Dr Cripp found
those, no Weren or Fangen would be safe again. And
what about poor Batty?

He could see the ghastly figure of Dr Cripp, but
there was no sign of the mongrel. Shivers of fear
went down his spine. He caught a glimpse of himself
in the window's reflection and almost laughed. As if
anyone would suspect
him
of being a werewolf. His
disguise was perfect. He crept nearer until he could
peek through the glass door. There was Batty lying
quietly on the floor behind the dreaded man.

Freddy watched them carefully. He was determined
to come to the rescue if he was needed, Dr Cripp or
no Dr Cripp.

Inside the shop, the butcher was carefully weighing
out some pork chops.

'Will they do, sir?' he called over his shoulder.

'Fine, thank you,' Dr Cripp replied. Batty lay silently
behind him, trying to appear invisible. Neither of the
men had noticed her. The butcher began to wrap up
the chops and Dr Cripp cleared his throat.

'I wonder,' he began with a small cough. The
butcher waited expectantly.

'I wonder if you ever have large orders for red meat
on a night with a full moon?'

'A full moon?' repeated the butcher, perplexed.

'Yes indeed,' Dr Cripp went on. 'Last night, for
instance, was a full moon. I wonder whether there was a
feast held anywhere in Milford. I hear rumours that there
was. A High Howling of werefo-' He paused, licked his
lips and began again. 'A feast for people who like to eat
red meat. Meat dripping, quite dripping, with blood!'

Dr Cripp gave the butcher what he imagined to be
a charming smile.

'I haven't heard of no feast in Milford,' the butcher
said sternly.

'Are you quite sure? No extra orders for kidneys,
or steaks, or tender baby lamb?' the doctor hinted.

'Well, now that I think of it,' said the butcher, 'the
Mayor had a little party for his nephew up at the Castle
last night, but I wouldn't call that a feast.'

'What's that?' Dr Cripp's eyes lit up eagerly.

'Well, it was young Freddy's tenth birthday. Funny,
though, the party was a month late. My Susan has the
same birthday and she was ten last month.'

'Why, that makes him 121 months old! On the night
of the full moon!' squealed the doctor in delight. 'Of
course! How marvellous. It must be the High Howling.'

The butcher narrowed his eyes.

'High What-do-yer-say?
It was a birthday party, I've
told you,' he scowled.

Dr Cripp ignored him. 'With lots of meat, though.
You did say that, didn't you?' he asked eagerly, his
glasses steaming up.

'Well, I suppose you could say so. Two hundred
steaks and five dozen lambs' hearts,' the butcher
admitted reluctantly.

'Oh sweet words, it must be true. Who else but the
werefolk need so much blood-red meat?' he whispered
to himself.

'What's that you say?' the butcher demanded
suspiciously.

'Oh nothing, nothing.' The doctor tried to remain
calm. 'How much for my chops?' He paid, then put
his hand on the door handle. He paused very casually
to ask one more question.

Batty was now alert. She watched his hand as it
started to slowly turn the handle. It was her plan to
grab the sausages as he opened the door, then flee at
top speed.

'And what was the name of the castle where the
party was held?' He smiled repulsively.

'Farfang, of course, where Mayor Lupin lives.
Everybody knows that.' The butcher had had enough
of his strange customer.

Batty watched as Dr Cripp began to open the door.
Suddenly, he laughed out loud and let go of the handle.

'Lupin, lupine, of course! Don't you see? It means
"like a wolf". I've found him, I've found the Grand
Growler!' He cackled madly, then screamed in surprise
as a wild beast appeared to jump for his throat.

It was Batty, flying past him. She had already begun
to jump when he had let go of the handle and she now
found herself stranded in the middle of the window
display. She grabbed some sausages and turned to
face the butcher. She was trapped with no hope of
escape.

'Is that your dog?' the red-faced butcher bellowed
at Dr Cripp.

'Certainly not! I cannot stand the smelly beasts,'
Dr Cripp replied.

The butcher glared at Batty. 'This is the last time you
steal from my shop, you miserable hairy hound.' He
turned round and reached for his huge meat cleaver.

Ding-dong!

The bell rang as the shop door opened. There on
the outside handle hung Freddy, pulling down for all
he was worth with both tiny paws. With his whole
weight he had just managed to swing the door open.

'Not another one!' roared the butcher, racing
around the counter with his sharp cleaver.

'Run, Freddy,' Batty called and leapt towards the
door. As Dr Cripp tried to close it with his foot, Freddy
fought to keep it open.

'Stop those dogs,' ordered the butcher.

'With pleasure,' laughed Dr Cripp. Suddenly, he
took a tiny silver gun from his pocket. He aimed it
carefully at Batty as she tried to pull the door wide,
but Freddy was too quick for him.

'Youch,' cried the cowardly hunter, as the poodle's
sharp little teeth sank into his ankle. Cripp dropped
his gun and cradled his leg.

The dogs ran for their lives down the main street,
the string of sausages sailing behind them like the tail
of a kite.

'Miserable mongrels,' the furious butcher yelled
after them. 'You were no use either, you great cream
cake,' he informed Dr Cripp.

'I am maimed ...' the doctor began, but his words
died as he stared intently at a ring on his finger. It
was silver with a tiny white stone set in the centre – a
Moonstone. This was Dr Cripp's great weapon in the
hunt for werefolk, and the stone was now hot, so hot
that it was burning his finger. It could mean only one
thing: a werewolf was close by.

'But it cannot be,' the doctor said to himself. 'They
were only dogs. No werewolf can go abroad unless the
full moon is in the night sky.'