Dead Angels Read online

  “Oh shit,” I sighed aloud in the gloom, as I heard the sound of the statue’s footsteps fade away down the steps. Knowing in my heart that I had to go back for Kayla, I spun around and headed back in the direction of the way I had come.

  “Did you see that?” I gasped as I raced back into the room.

  “Have you seen this?” Kayla screeched.

  Sam was kneeling on all fours on the bed. His arms and legs were locked rigid, his spine a series of white lumps glowing through the flesh that now seemed to stretch over his back. I took hold of Kayla’s arm and yanked her back, away from the bed.

  “We’ve got to help him, Isidor!” she screamed.

  “I don’t think we can,” I said, pulling her tight against me.

  Sam dropped onto the mattress, where he rolled onto his back. He opened his mouth and released a series of painful sounding howls. His cracked lips started to bleed as they began to tear. Then, throwing his arms up into the air, we stood and watched as Sam’s fingers began to stretch and elongate. Turning his head in our direction, Sam snapped open his eyes and looked at us. They shone a bright yellow, and lit up the room.

  “Help me,” he pleaded and clutched at the air with the claws that had now formed at the end of each of his wrists. It was the first time that I’d heard Sam speak since we had brought him to the manor, and his voice sounded deep, as if he were gargling on a throat full of gravel.

  “Does he always sound like that?” I asked Kayla.

  “No, Isidor,” she whispered, her own voice sounding confused and lost.

  Then, over the sound of the approaching thunder and the roar of the wind, Sam began to howl as his whole body seemed to stretch and twist out of shape. His feet began to grow, each toe capped with an ivory-looking nail. Sam’s pyjama bottoms began to tear as his calf and thigh muscles rippled beneath the material.

  A ‘V’ shape of fur broke out down the front of his chest and glistened in the glow of the lamp. Thick lengths of fur bristled down each of his meaty forearms, and thinned over the back of his new claws. Then, Sam’s face began to change shape. His nose grew longer taking on the shape of a snout. His ears stretched into points on either side of his face, and black hair grew from beneath his chin, giving him a beard that even I would have been proud of.

  Once the transformation had taken place, Sam collapsed onto his side and lay panting like a tired dog on a hot summer’s day. He looked at us, and Kayla began to sob. Sam didn’t look like a wolf, but then again, he didn’t look like a teenage boy anymore – he looked half and half. He looked half boy and half wolf – a half breed – and if he survived, I understood the torment that he would go through. Maybe that’s why Kayla stood sobbing in my arms. Not because she feared him, but because she knew that living the life of a half-breed was a hard one. It was a curse.

  Then, in a voice that sounded as if it was consumed with pain, Sam stared at us with his burning eyes and said, “Kayla, help me. Please.”

  “How?” she whispered.

  “Take me to the Fountain of Souls,” he pleaded.

  Chapter Four

  Kiera

  Potter reached Sam’s bedroom just before me. With his long legs, he had climbed the stairs two at a time. As he charged at them, I saw his claws shoot from his fingertips. Halfway up the stairs, the sound of howling echoed around the upper reaches of the manor, and with a flick of my wrists, my own claws sprang out.

  Inside the room, Potter suddenly paused, and I had to pull up sharp to stop myself from clattering into him. He stood next to Kayla and Isidor who were rooted to the floor and staring down at the bed. I looked to see what had drawn their attention, and was shocked by what I saw peering up at us from the glow of the lamp. Sam lay on his side, but he didn’t exactly look like Sam anymore. He had grown in size and two giant fur-covered feet hung over the end of the bed. His hands were huge claws, and his fingernails looked as sharp as a set of dinner knives. But it was his face. He looked half wolf and half boy. His eyes burnt a fierce yellow and they reminded me of Jack Seth’s – they reminded me of the Skin-walkers.

  Part of me feared him, but another part of me pitied him, as he lay on his side panting and howling in agony. I don’t think Potter felt the same at all, as he lunged across the room at him.

  “No!” Kayla screamed as she broke free of Isidor’s arms and snatched at Potter.

  “Let go of me!” Potter barked at her, tugging his arm free. “He’s a wolf – a Skin-walker!”

  “He’s my friend,” Kayla screeched at him.

  “Not anymore,” Potter snapped. “He’s one of them.”

  “No he’s not!” Kayla insisted. “Look at him. He hasn’t changed properly. The matching was broken halfway through.”

  “And how do we know he won’t change fully one night and kill us all in our sleep?” Potter tried to warn her.

  “Please!” Sam howled, and his cry for help sounded as raw as the growing wind outside.

  “See, the boy’s begging me to kill him,” Potter said, staring down at the half-wolf. “He wants me to end his suffering.”

  “No he doesn’t,” Kayla hissed, grabbing Potter’s arm again, and turning him around so he had to look at her. “He wants us to take him to the Fountain of Souls.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” Potter groaned. Then, staring hard at Kayla, he added, “Do I have to remind you what happened the last time we went there?”

  “Murphy died,” I whispered.

  “Exactly!” Potter sighed. “Going back there is insane. How does the kid know about that place, anyhow?”

  “Maybe he...” Isidor started.

  “No one asked you,” Potter cut over him. “I’ll tell you how he knows, because the wolf living inside of him knows. That part of him wants us to go to the Fountain of Souls.”

  “Please help me,” Sam howled again, closing his eyes in agony.

  “I say we kill him,” Potter said. “It would be the best thing for us, and for him.”

  “No!” Kayla shouted, scrambling between Potter and the bed. Holding out her arms, she added, “You’ll have to kill me first.”

  “Kayla, if you think I’m taking the Michael J. Fox lookalike to the Fountain of Souls, you must be out of your freaking mind.”

  Then, stepping forward, Isidor peered over Potter’s shoulder at Sam. “I guess he does look a little bit like a mouse,” he said.

  Frowning, Potter turned to look at Isidor and said, “What are you talking about?”

  “Michael J. Fox,” Isidor beamed. “Now I did Toogle him. He did the voice for that cute mouse, Stuart Little. And I can see what you mean; I guess Sam does look a little bit like Stuart Little, although his fur was white and...”

  “I’m not talking about Stuart-fucking-Little you cretin,” Potter cut over him. “When I say he looks like Michael J. Fox, I’m talking about Teen Wolf, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Teen Wolf?” Isidor asked, sounding confused. “But I thought you said the wolf was called Michael Jackson, not Michael J. Fox?”

  “Is this some kinda hobby of yours?” Potter asked, sounding exasperated.

  “Hobby?” Isidor frowned. “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “I just can’t believe you thought that when I referred to the wolf-boy lying over there as Michael J. Fox, you honestly thought I was suggesting he looked like a three-inch computer-generated fucking mouse! You can’t be that thick.”

  “I did think it was a little odd,” Isidor said thoughtfully as he looked down at Sam. “But he is covered in hair like Stuart Little, so I thought that’s what you meant.”

  Throwing his arms up in the air, Potter cried, “I give up! I don’t know if I can do this shit anymore.”

  “What shit?” Isidor asked, looking confused.

  “Listening to the shit that comes out of your mouth...” Potter started.

  “Enough already,” I cut in. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  “He gets on my nerves,” Potter said,
jabbing his thumb in Isidor’s direction.

  “And killing Sam isn’t the answer,” Isidor said in his own defence.

  “It isn’t Sam anymore,” Potter wheeled on him.

  “That still doesn’t give you the right to decide on who lives and who dies,” Isidor said, standing firm.

  “If that thing lives, then we will die,” Potter shouted, going toe to toe with Isidor.

  Kayla cut in between them. “It is Sam. It’s the wolf that tried to match with him that we can see...”

  “Help me, please,” the wolf-boy on the bed murmured.

  Ignoring the others, I went to the side of the bed and looked down at him. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Sam Brook,” he whispered, his voice deep, yet soft. “I know you fear me, but I’m not going to harm you.”

  “How many times has a wolf told us that?” Potter reminded me.

  “He won’t hurt us,” Kayla pleaded, standing at the foot of the bed where Sam’s feet hung.

  “He could turn on us at any moment,” Potter told her.

  “Until that happens, I don’t think we have the right to kill him,” Isidor said.

  There was a pause as they looked at me for the answer. In that silence I could hear the sound of Sam’s laboured breathing, the wind screaming outside, and the boom of fast approaching thunder. Looking at Potter, I eventually said, “Isidor is right. We can’t kill Sam. We don’t have the right – not until he becomes a threat at least.”

  “He’s a wolf, Kiera, that makes him threat number one,” Potter snapped back.

  “Half wolf,” Kayla said from the foot of the bed.

  “I think we should help him,” Isidor said, going to stand beside his sister.

  Then, staring me straight in the eye, Potter said, “You’re making a mistake. How many times has a wolf got to betray us before you learn we can’t trust them?”

  Potter’s voice sounded cold, but I knew he wouldn’t harm Sam – not yet, anyhow. But I felt Potter was wrong – I once knew a wolf that could be trusted. He had been a true friend and had died trying to help me.

  “What about Nik?” I asked Potter.

  “What about him?”

  “He helped me – he was true to his word,” I said.

  “After years of killing,” Potter said. “But what about the others? Eloisa, Sparky, and do I have to remind you of our dear friend, Jack Seth? Wolves can’t be trusted.”

  “You can trust me,” Sam suddenly murmured from the bed, where he lay curled in pain.

  “I’ve heard that before,” Potter hissed.

  “And there were plenty of Vampyrus that deceived us too,” I reminded him gently.

  “Yeah, there was Taylor, Phillips, Mrs. Payne” Isidor said, counting them off on his fingers. “And need I mention Lu –”

  “Okay, wise arse,” Potter spoke before Isidor could finish. “But let’s see how smart you are when the wolf-boy rips your head clean off.” Then Potter was gone, striding out of the room.

  “Mind the statue,” Isidor called out.

  “Fuck the statues,” Potter shouted back over his shoulder.

  “What statue?” I asked, staring at Isidor.

  “I’m sure there was a statue in here with Sam,” he told me.

  “Where is it now?” I peered into the shadows of the corner of the room.

  “It disappeared real quick down the landing when Kayla and I came in.”

  “I didn’t pass it on the stairs,” I said thoughtfully, as I wondered about the statues that suddenly kept reappearing and disappearing again.

  “Why do you think we keep seeing them?” Kayla asked me.

  But before I’d had the chance to answer, Sam howled in pain again and gripped his sides.

  “We don’t have time to worry about those statues now,” I said, reaching out and touching Sam’s arm. His skin was burning up and I pulled my hand away. “We need to get him some help, and fast.”

  “Are we going to take him to the Fountain of Souls?” Kayla asked.

  “I guess,” I breathed. Then, looking at Kayla and Isidor, I added, “Pack some stuff, we’re leaving tonight.”

  Chapter Five

  Kiera

  “You know I think you’re wrong about this,” Potter said, as I threw a rucksack into the boot of the car. The bottles of Lot 13 hidden within it made a clinking sound.

  “So why are you tagging along?” I half-smiled at him, cocking an eyebrow.

  “You know why I’m coming along,” he grunted. “Somebody’s got to watch your back on these half-brained adventures you keep going on.”

  “Half-brained?” I said, the wind so fierce now that my hair blew back off my face and billowed out behind me.

  “Well I don’t call driving up into the mountains in search of the Fountain of Souls a smart idea. Murphy wouldn’t have agreed to it,” he said, throwing Kayla’s and Isidor’s rucksacks into the boot of the car.

  “Murphy was the person who first took us there,” I told him. “Besides, Murphy isn’t here anymore. It’s down to us to call the shots these days.”

  “I guess,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “I’m fine,” he shrugged. Then, changing the subject he looked back towards the manor and said, “Here come Kayla and Isidor with the wolf-boy.”

  I followed Potter’s stare, and could see Kayla and Isidor hoisting Sam down the front steps of the manor. They carried him between them, Sam’s arms draped around their shoulders. His head hung low, his chin nestled in the V-shaped strip of hair on his chest and long, clawed feet dragging behind him. Potter glanced at me and raised his eyebrows. He held open the boot, and as Isidor and Kayla came closer, he shifted the bags around inside.

  “Put him in here,” Potter said to them. “There’s enough room.”

  “Sam’s not going in the boot,” Kayla gasped. “He might suffocate.”

  “He’s not going to suffocate,” Potter told her flatly. “Besides, he might start freaking out again and we could crash the car.”

  “He might die in there,” Isidor said, supporting his sister.

  “Rather him than me,” Potter said. “Now put him in the boot.”

  “No,” I told him, opening the rear passenger door. “It’s inhumane.”

  “That’s the point,” Potter forced a smile at me. “He’s not human.”

  “Neither are you,” Kayla reminded him, helping Isidor place Sam on the backseat of the car.

  Muttering to himself, Potter said, “Why doesn’t anybody ever listen to me?” Once he had stopped moaning, he lit a cigarette and climbed in behind the wheel.

  Sam lolled across the backseat, Isidor and Kayla on either side of him. Kayla gently positioned herself so Sam’s head rested against her shoulder. I sat in the front passenger seat and closed the door. Potter started the car, and I looked back at the manor house, huge, dark and empty against the night sky. I wondered when we would see it again. It was the only permanent thing in our lives now. It had become our home.

  I faced forward and said, “Okay, let’s get going.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Potter asked me, a smoke propped between his lips.

  “Just drive,” I whispered and wound down my window an inch.

  Without saying another word, Potter drove us down the winding gravel path that led to the gatehouse. The car rattled over the drawbridge and I glanced at the gatehouse. I remembered being in there with Potter, where we had shared our first kiss. That seemed a lifetime ago and it had been. I was living a new life now – if I was really living at all. Once we had cleared the drawbridge, Potter stopped the car, climbed out, and closed the giant black iron gates. The wind pulled at them as if they were two giant sails. They clanked shut and Potter returned to the car, just as the first few spots of rain spattered against the windscreen.

  We drove in silence, all of us, I guess, wondering what lay ahead at the Fountain of Souls. Was it like it had
been the last time we had been there? As I sat nestled in my seat watching the rain lash against the windscreen, I thought of my life – the old one – it had changed in those caves beneath the fountain. That’s where Murphy had died, where I had become addicted to the red stuff, and it was the place I realised I was in love with Potter. I glanced sideways, and his face was fixed with a grim look as he stared through the rain that raced down the windscreen. I knew what he was thinking – he was thinking I was wrong about going to the fountain again, but something told me that answers hid there. Another piece of the jigsaw, perhaps? I didn’t have a heart to guide me anymore, but I did have a gut and it was telling me to go there. And did we have a choice? Sam was sick and needed help – where else could we take him? I couldn’t just leave him to die. Besides, I needed to keep moving and not look back, because when I did, all I could see was Jack Seth’s eyes burning back at me. I didn’t want to think of what depraved acts he might have performed on me before finally taking my life in The Hollows. But perhaps Potter was right – maybe Jack Seth was full of shit and was just trying to unnerve me. But how could Potter be so sure?

  Then, Potter spoke and dragged me from my thoughts. “We’ve got company,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, glancing at him as he stared into the rear-view mirror.

  “There’s a cop car behind us,” he said.

  I glanced back over my shoulder and over the heads of Isidor, Kayla, and Sam to see the dazzling headlights of a police car tailing us in the pouring rain. “Just take it nice and easy,” I told him. Remembering the nights I had often spent patrolling in the pouring rain back in Havensfield, I added, “They won’t want to get out of their car on a night like this. Not if they don’t have to.”

  Potter eased off the accelerator just a little and steadied the car as we made our way up the winding hillside. The wind blew across the open fields and valleys and buffeted the car. Thunder continued to rumble in the distance and the night sky suddenly flashed with a streak of purple lightning overhead. Rain drummed off the roof of the car and the windscreen wipers squeaked back and forth.