Blood Moon (25 page)

Her father rubbed her arm. “No, Ian’s right. Even if there are more outside, they’ll be going for the people in the market square. At least we’ll stand a chance. If we stay here, we’re dead.”

Gary looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Chelfyn, mate, I’m right there with you, but the fire escape is on the other side of the dancefloor and the front door’s a bit congested right now. How the fuck are we going to get past that thing? All the exits are blocked.”

Mandy risked a glance over the top of the console, immediately regretting it. The werewolf had its jaws clamped around a young man’s throat and was shaking its head from side to side like a dog worrying a rag. The man’s screams were little more than a strangled gurgle, drowned out by the cries of terror from the other people in the pub. She dropped her head back down before the monster saw her, an idea forming. “If we can’t get through the exits, why don’t we make our own? Mate, how heavy is that record box?”

Gary looked confused as he glanced at the aluminium flight case. “I don’t know? Heavy. It’s full of vinyl. 20 kilos maybe. Why?”

Ian looked at his younger sister, grinned and kissed her on the forehead. “Plenty heavy enough to go through one of those windows, then? Dad, grab the other side of it. Gary, try and block that doorway up with some chairs or something. Anything to slow it down. It’ll be after us the second the glass goes.”

Mandy helped Gary create a makeshift barricade with a trestle table propped up with a couple of wooden chairs. As barriers went, it was terrible. But it was the best they could manage under the circumstances. Ian and her father exchanged worried glances, then both bent to pick up the record box. A shadow fell over them, blotting out the candlelight. Mandy looked up and screamed as the werewolf crouched on top of the DJ booth and snarled. One huge taloned paw scraped against the record decks, while the other flexed against one of the mixers in anticipation. Mandy sensed the creature bunching its muscles for the attack. The monstrous beast growled, and hot, rank saliva sprayed Mandy’s face. She could see the bloodstained enamel daggers that would end her life; feel the rancid breath on her face. She wanted to close her eyes and look away, but couldn’t. Somehow the thought of waiting in darkness for those teeth to tear her flesh apart was worse than seeing it happen.

A whoosh of air above Mandy’s head. A screamed war cry that sounded something like “Fucking have some ya bastard!” A yelp of pain and shock as Gary smashed a bottle of Newcastle Brown ale into the werewolf’s slavering maw like a club, shattering the monster’s fangs into fragments of bloody bone.

Ian looked at his father. “Now!” he yelled, and both men got to their feet, swinging the aluminium flight case at the large plate glass window. The record box crashed through the glass, large sheets exploding into vicious splinters that rained down across Mandy and her family.

A terrified scream rang out and suddenly Gary wasn’t standing next to Mandy anymore. She only caught a glimpse of his trainers as he was dragged over the top of the DJ console. Mandy reached out instinctively, trying to grab the man. Save him from the fate that he’d saved her from, but she was too late by far.

Her father grabbed her by the shoulders. “Mandy, listen to me. If we get separated, then get to the church. Get to your Auntie Sharon and Matthew. She’ll keep you safe.”

Mandy nodded. Ian kicked the last of the glass shards out of the window frame and hoisted his sister up. She looked back into the bar and saw that Gary’s assault had galvanised the patrons of The
Sandpiper
into action. Many of them lay dead or dying on the dancefloor, but many more were taking the attack to their assailants. Men leapt on top of the snarling creature with nothing but chair legs, pool cues and broken bottles for weapons. The werewolf was a brutal killing machine, but it was badly outnumbered, and the townsfolk of High Moor had a certain reputation within the area. The town was not considered to be a rough shithole for nothing. Astonishingly, fuelled by terror, rage and alcohol, they seemed to be winning. One man speared a broken pool cue through the back of the thrashing monster. Another man wrapped his arms around the beast’s neck and was trying to saw its head off with a broken bottle, despite some grievous injuries.

Something collided with Mandy, sending her flying back into the pub. Something huge, heavy and covered in thick, foul smelling fur. Another werewolf, presumably stalking the outside of the pub to prevent anyone escaping, had hurled itself at her and now stood on her chest, vicious claws penetrating her clothes, pinning her to the floor. It snarled at her and brought its fangs to her face. The beast’s lips curled back, spraying her with blood-flecked foam. Mandy closed her eyes. Then suddenly, the weight was gone. She opened her eyes and saw her father and Ian wrestling with the huge, enraged werewolf on the dancefloor. Others moved to help, brandishing makeshift weapons. She cried out, “No! Dad! Ian!”

Her father looked at her and yelled, “Go!” Then the creature’s jaws closed around his head and crunched down, turning his skull into a jellied mass of blood, bone and brains.

The monstrous beast vanished beneath a sea of drunken, enraged northerners, lashing out with anything they could get their hands on, and failing that, using their fists and feet. Mandy couldn’t see Ian anymore, and knew she couldn’t wait to find out if he was still alive or not. She’d lost both of her parents in the space of half an hour. She needed to get away, get to Auntie Sharon and Matthew. Ignoring the pain from her wounds, Mandy vaulted onto the window frame, then leaped out into the night.

She groaned as her bare feet plunged into the snow. Shards of glass from the broken window stabbed into her, but the cold soon numbed the pain. She knew that she couldn’t stay here. Pain and fear surged inside her, but she blocked them out, concentrating on the present. The church was normally less than a ten minute walk from here – a journey to the top of the high street, then up the hill for half a mile until the narrow terraced houses opened out to the green expanse around the old stone church and the hall behind it. From the screams emanating from the high street and market square, however, she knew that wasn’t an option. Instead, keeping low to the ground she hurried across the road into the housing estate beyond.

Despite the lack of lighting, the snow made the ground glow with enough ambient light to allow her to make out some details of her surroundings. The door of each house lay open, the locks shattered and the wooden frames splintered. Whatever had happened in High Moor that evening had clearly not been confined to the pub and the town centre. The werewolves had gone from door to door, slaughtering people as they slept or celebrated the New Year. Occasionally she would come across dark patches in the snow where some unfortunate had met their end, but mostly the streets were pristine, white and empty. Her ears strained for any sign of life as she scurried from garden to garden. A telltale crunch of snow that would indicate a survivor or a lycanthrope stalking her, but the town was silent save for the occasional distant scream. The monsters had done their work and moved on, spreading out from the town centre to the outlying houses like ripples in a pond.

It took her almost half an hour to make her way through side streets and gardens to the church hall. Like everywhere else, the door swung open on the frigid breeze and the interior was dark, cavernous and silent. She stepped inside, expecting to be attacked at any moment. The floor was wet and sticky, with soft things squelching between her frozen toes. The werewolves had obviously been here as well and did not appear to have spared anyone. The last shred of hope that Mandy had been clinging to evaporated. Her Auntie Sharon. Her little brother. Dead. Slaughtered like her mum, her dad and Ian. She fell to her knees and began to sob, the wall inside her crumbling and the emotions flooding out. She was alone. Everyone she knew and loved had been killed. Torn apart for no reason she could understand. At that moment, Mandy longed to join them. Wanted death more than anything else in the world. She didn’t even react when she sensed something behind her. A presence in the darkness. She closed her eyes and waited for the end. Instead she felt the light touch of a hand on her shoulder.

“Mandy, love. It’s Sharon. Come with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

Mandy let herself be led towards the basement door, her mind numb. She only knew one thing. She wasn’t safe. She would never be safe again. The puncture wounds from the werewolf’s claws on her shoulder guaranteed that.

Chapter 16

1st January 2009. Lindholme Detention Centre, Doncaster. 06:50

John crouched before the small electric fire and tried to warm himself. The siren had sounded at 6:30 as usual – apparently Colonel Richards didn’t believe in allowing his guests a lie in on New Year’s Day – and he’d showered and dressed without enthusiasm. The water had only been lukewarm, and the temperature in the barrack building hovered just above freezing. He glanced from the threadbare curtains at the floodlit compound and sighed when he saw it was covered in snow. He hated snow at the best of times, and the flimsy gym shoes provided by the military wouldn’t do much to keep his feet warm and dry as he waited in the line for breakfast. He considered skipping the meal, but the growling in his stomach persuaded him otherwise. As rank as it was, and despite the fact it was laden with narcotics, he knew he needed to keep his strength up. The rations they were given were not quite small enough to make them starve, but they were definitely enough to keep the prisoners weak. He’d already had to tighten his belt two notches in the short time he’d been here. If he went without too many meals, he wouldn’t have the strength to leave his bunk, let alone defend himself if some of his pack friends decided to challenge him again. No sooner had the thought flashed across his mind than the door to his hut opened. He snapped his head round to find Kasha, her husband Dmitri, Sonja – Sophia’s mother, and two large, heavily muscled men entering and closing the door behind them.

John got to his feet, eyes searching desperately for something he could use as a weapon, knowing it was no use. The beds were bolted to the floor. He supposed he could hit one of them with the electric fire, but in reality, the only weapons he had were his fists, feet and, if it really came to it, claws and teeth. There was no way he would go down without a fight, even if it meant a Hellfire missile obliterating the hut and everyone else in it.

Kasha stepped forward, her hands raised. “We did not come here to fight you, Simpson. Relax.”

John’s muscles remained tensed. “Really? Then what are you doing here? You’ve all made it perfectly clear that you want me dead. Forgive me if I’m struggling to believe you’ve all come for a friendly chat.”

Sonja joined the other woman, while the three men remained by the door. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did. For persuading them to let us change. Some of the others are angry, but they are complying, and even those among us who are unhappy with changing in a cell at least know it’s the only way we’ll survive the full moon. You saved us. You saved my daughter.” She paused and looked back to Dmitri, who gave a small nod. “We wanted you to know that there won’t be any more trouble for you. Not from us. Not anymore.”

John unclenched his fists, but remained tense. “Really? It’s that simple. We’re all best friends now? Sorry if I have trouble accepting that.”

Sonja walked across the room, took John’s hand in hers and kissed it. “Believe it. As a mother you have my gratitude. Dmitri and Kasha have spoken to the others. But you must be honest with us. Sophie says that you are not a moonstruck. Is this true? Because if you are, then your efforts to save us will be for nothing. In a few weeks, you’ll change and kill every one of us. We need to know. We need to be certain that you are not a threat.”

John looked into Sonja’s eyes and saw no trace of a lie in them. “I used to be. Marie taught me to control the change. When I do turn I’m… well, I’m not like the rest of you. I think my body got so used to being in that form that it’s what I become now. But I can think. I’m rational. I’m just… different.”

The woman nodded. “You may be different, but you have more in common with us than with those animals,” she spat on the floor, “that cage us. That take us away and experiment on us. It’s time we all accepted that.”

The tension left John’s shoulders and he nodded. While he was not about to take this change of heart from his fellow prisoners at face value, all he could really do was play along, hope for the best and watch for any sign of betrayal. In the short term, at least it might make his life a little easier. At least until one of his new friends cut his throat while he slept. “Okay. I’ll believe you. Not saying I completely trust you, but I’m willing to put the past few days behind us.” He looked at Sonja and held out his hand. “Fresh start?”

Sonja clasped John’s hand in hers and shook it. “Yes. Fresh start.”

The other pack members joined her, each shaking John’s hand in turn. Then Dmitri put his huge hand on John’s shoulder. “They say you were with Mikhail. When you were captured. Is that true?”