Werewolves of Shade (Part Two) (Beautiful Immortals Series Book 2) Read online

  With yet another question added to my growing list, I made my way down the hill and back into Shade.

  Chapter Seven

  Rush was waiting for me at the foot of the hill. Taking the lamp from me, we made our way back to the small shack. After snuffing out the flame, he placed the lantern and hammer back into the dark. He closed the door and together we made our way back through the village. The streets were eerily quiet and as we passed by The Weeping Wolf, all of the windows were in darkness. Had Calix and Rea gone to bed so soon? Had they gone to bed together, I couldn’t help but wonder, glancing up at the windows. In silence, Rush led me into the alleyway. At once I was reminded of the wolf I believed I had seen – the wolf that Calix now claimed to have shot dead on the hill. He may have shot it, but I wasn’t so sure the wolf had been responsible for killing the sheep. It was so dark in the alleyway, it was near impossible to see more than just an inch or two ahead. Rush didn’t seem to have any problems seeing in the dark as he walked briskly forward. I followed the sound of his footsteps echoing back off the walls that towered high above, making me feel claustrophobic. With every step I took forward, it felt as if my chest was tightening – like it was getting harder and harder for me to draw breath.

  Just when my heart started to swim and a sickening sense of dizziness was threatening to wash over me, Rush stepped from the end of the alley and onto a street. I stumbled after him, sucking mouthfuls of cold night air.

  “Are you okay?” Rush asked, settling one hand gently on my shoulder.

  I pressed one hand flat against my chest. “I’m fine,” I wheezed. “That alley was so narrow and dark I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.”

  “C’mon,” he said, hushing me along the street I now found myself on. “You’re probably dead beat and in need of some rest.”

  “I guess,” I said, glancing up at the houses that lined each side of the street. There were some shops, but all of them had their lights out. But was that so strange? It was very late, so any shops would be shut, wouldn’t they? All of the buildings looked very old with their pointed rooftops, lattice windows, grey stone walls, and thick heavy-looking doors. At the end of the street, Rush turned right and I followed. This street was cobbled down the centre like the others I had walked, but instead of shops there were houses. They didn’t look very much different from the shops, other than the windows were small and not like shop fronts. Lights burned in some of the upper windows and I could see wispy threads of smoke streaming from pencil-thin chimneys.

  So Rush had been telling the truth. There were other people besides him and his two friends living in Shade. Why had part of me expected him to be lying? Perhaps Rea had been right? As much as they had to learn to trust me, I had to learn to trust them. What about Calix? I doubted I would ever be able to trust someone like him. Some of the houses were in darkness and I wondered whether they stood empty or if the occupants had gone to bed. But none of them I realised were going to be my new home, as Rush led me past all of them and to the end of the street.

  There was a park with a wide grass lawn. Rush set off across it. Off to my right, I could see a large metal ‘A’ shaped frame. On it hung two swings. They swung back and forth as if being ridden by ghosts in the darkness. Were there children living in Shade too? I was just about to ask Rush, when he stopped.

  “How about that house?” he said, pointing ahead. “I know it’s stood empty for years.”

  I peered ahead, wishing I still had the lantern swinging from my fist. I couldn’t see anything other than a large tree that was stooped to one side. “Where? I can’t see a house.”

  “I’ll show you,” Rush said setting off across the park again.

  Reaching the other side of it, I could see a fence circling a small and overgrown garden. The fence was broken in places, and a gate hung lopsided on a single hinge. Rush pushed the gate open, one corner of it scraping against the gravel path I now walked. He led me up a small garden path and past the tree I had seen from a distance. Set back from the path and hidden by the tree was a small cottage. It had a thatched roof from which a chimney jutted. The house was made of a grey slate stone. The windows were boarded over with shutters.

  “What do you think?” Rush said, glancing at the small house, then sideways at me.

  “Who used to live here?” I asked.

  “I think it belonged to some old woman – she was ancient. Died a long time ago,” Rush explained. “I think she used to be the headmistress of the village school – but like I’ve said, that was a long time ago.”

  “Why this house?” I asked.

  “Don’t you like it?” Rush asked. “It might look a bit poky but at least the walls are still standing and it has a roof. I think you’ll find it perfect.”

  “Why pick a house so far away from all the other houses?” I asked, then as if answering my own question, I added, “You think the others might not like living so close to a complete stranger?”

  “Something like that,” Rush said, brushing past me and heading up the path to the door. He put his shoulder to the door and popped it open.

  Part of the doorframe splintered as the old rusty lock fell into the overgrown flowerbed. “I’ll come by tomorrow with my hammer and fix that. But you’ll be safe tonight at least.”

  “Do I need a lock on my door to feel safe in Shade?” I asked.

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Calix told me that Shade is the most dangerous town in the world,” I said.

  “He was just trying to rattle you,” Rush said. “I guess he was hoping you might leave.”

  There was a pause – one of those silences between us again. I looked at him. Taking a deep breath, I then said, “Do you want me to leave?”

  “I think you could be happy here,” he said.

  “That’s not what I asked,” I reminded him.

  Reaching out and gently brushing a loose strand of hair from my cheek, Rush said, “Sleep tight, Mila.”

  I watched him head back down the path and across the park in the direction of the pub. Once I’d lost sight of him, I turned back to face the house. Slowly, I stepped inside. Turning to close the door, I tumbled backwards. It hadn’t been a loose floorboard or turned-up rug that had caused me to stumble, but the sight of the wolf that now stood at the end of the path leading to the house. And just like the wolf I believed I had seen in the alleyway, this was huge – far bigger than the wolf Calix had shot on the hillside. Its body bristled with grey and black streaked fur. Its head sat between two muscular shoulders, its paws long and stretched. Its red eyes met mine. With my heart pounding in my chest and not daring to breathe, I slowly raised my arm and reached for the door. The wolf stood and watched me from the end of the path – its eyes unblinking. Inch by slow inch, I eased the door closed. When the opening was nothing more than just a crack, I watched the wolf through it as it continued to watch me.

  As if trapped by its stare, I watched the wolf throw its head back and release a thunderous howl. With my legs threatening to buckle at the knees and the deafening boom of the wolf’s cry seeming to rattle every bone in my body, I slammed the door shut. I pressed myself flat against the door in the darkened hallway and waited for the creature’s claws to break through the ancient door, turning it to nothing more than splinters. With my chest hitching up and down and tears threatening, I waited for the creature to attack. But it never came. I do not know how long I stood against that door, wishing that I was back home and safe in my uncle’s house lost in Flint’s arms.

  When I couldn’t bear the weight of the rucksack against my back, and my limbs felt like lumps of lead, I let myself slide slowly to the floor. Closing my eyes, I curled up on my side, finally letting sleep take me.

  Chapter Eight

  My spine felt like it had been stamped on. Slowly, I opened my eyes, peering out from beneath my long, black eyelashes. I was squashed tight against the door, the rucksack still strapped to my back. It took me a moment or two to realise where I was. Then remem
bering the wolf I had seen, I scrambled to my feet. How long had I been asleep? I didn’t know. But it wasn’t so dark anymore as I glanced around the short hallway I had woken to find myself in. Dirty coloured daylight spilt into the hall from a door that was ajar just feet away along the wall. I turned to face the front door, the side of my face pressed flat against it. I listened. What was I hoping to hear? A growl? A woof or bark? Another deep, booming howl like I’d heard the night before? But I couldn’t hear any of those sounds. All I could hear coming from the other side of the front door was the steady thrum of falling rain.

  The lock was missing, and as I glanced down at the floor for it, I remembered how Rush had popped the door open with his shoulder, sending the rusty old lock into the nearby flowerbeds. He had promised to return sometime today and fix it. With great care, I eased my fingertips around the edge of the front door. Swallowing hard, I opened the door an inch – just enough to put my eye to the crack and peer out. I scanned the path that led away from the door and down the uneven paving to the gate that hung by a single hinge. Holding my breath, and with my heart somersaulting, I searched for any sign of the wolf. But it had gone – vanished – just like it had in the alleyway. I no longer doubted that I had seen a wolf near to the pub where I had met Rea, Calix, and Rush. Whether it was the same wolf, I couldn’t be sure, but what I did know was that it definitely wasn’t the wolf that Calix had shot dead on the hillside. That wolf had been no bigger than a large dog. The wolf I had seen in the alleyway – the one at the end of the pathway – had been colossal. It had been as big as a bear. Closing the door, my skin became peppered with gooseflesh as I remembered how the wolf had stood waiting for me with those red burning eyes set on either side of its vicious-looking snout. That had been no normal wolf – that had been… dare I think the word that was screaming at the forefront of my mind. But those creatures had all gone, hadn’t they? Hadn’t they slunk back to those secret places from which they had come – back to the place to where that young woman was rumoured to have sent them?

  “Werewolves…” I whispered, stepping away from the door. See, I had said it. But in a tone so low that it was as if I was speaking some foul word that had been forbidden. Like learning to say the word fuck as a child. Knowing that you shouldn’t say it for fear of displeasing, but unable to stop yourself – saying the word over and over – just to hear it spring from your lips – realising the fact that the word was forbidden.

  Fuckerty-fuck-fuck!

  “Fuck, was that a werewolf I saw in the alleyway? Was that a werewolf I had seen watching me from the end of the garden path? Had it been a werewolf that had stalked me through the woods…?” I wondered out loud, the sound of my voice making my fears seem more real somehow. But did I really want them to be real? Did I really want to consider the idea for one moment that werewolves were hiding out in Shade? If there were, wouldn’t Rush and the others know? How could such a thing be kept secret in a village so small?

  Should I tell them that I had seen a wolf at the end of the garden path? What would be the point? Calix hadn’t believed me the first time around. But that was Calix and he was proving to be a bit of a knob-end. But Rush might believe me. He wasn’t like Rea and Calix. Unlike the others, he seemed to like me – trust me. But was it too soon for trust?

  But it seemed as if only I had seen the wolf. Calix had denied seeing it. What if they blamed me? What if they thought I had been careless enough to let a wolf follow me through that gap in the wall? But even worse, what if they started to believe I had brought the wolf with me – brought a wolf deliberately into Shade. They had built a wall around the village to protect themselves from something. Was it werewolves they feared?

  But what I did know for sure was that with every passing moment I spent in Shade, the number of questions I had on my mental list was growing ever longer. As yet I hadn’t found a single answer to one of them. I knew that I needed to be more methodical. I’d come to Shade to investigate and what had I found out – Shade wasn’t deserted as I had first believed, and that it was occupied by a stroppy cow with a gun, a dickhead with attitude, and a guy with the most infectious smile I had ever seen. So what did any of that really amount to? Zilch! I had to do better – get a grip if I was ever going to find out the truth about what really happened to my parents.

  Secure in the belief that the wolf – werewolf – had gone for now at least, I stepped away from the front door. Didn’t werewolves only come out at night? Or was that a vampire thing? Didn’t werewolves only wolf-out or whatever it was they did on a full moon? But it hadn’t been a full moon last night? The best I knew was that werewolves dodged silver bullets and vampires turned to dust at the sight of a crucifix. How I wished I’d paid more attention to those stories my uncle had written in his newspaper.

  Edging my way further down along the hallway and over the threadbare carpet that covered it, I reached for the door that was ajar. I pressed my face to it, peeking through the gap. The room on the other side of the door seemed to be cluttered with ancient-looking furniture.

  “Hello?” I said, easing the door open with my fingertips. Why I was calling out, I didn’t know. Hadn’t Rush told me that the cottage had stood empty for years?

  The room was small. But if cleaned, it would make a cosy sitting room during my stay in Shade. There was a two-seater sofa that looked as holey as the rug on the floor before the soot-ridden fireplace. The curtains that covered the lattice windows were slightly apart and it was through this gap that a strip of grey daylight fell. As I crossed, I pulled the rucksack from my back, dropping it into a nearby armchair. A plume of dust shot up into the air and I watched thousands of dust motes dance in the shaft of light. Coughing up a throat full of dust, I covered my nose and mouth with one hand and threw back the shutters with the other. Rain pelted the windows. I wiped away the grime with the back of my hand and peered out. From the window I could see the park that Rush had led me across the night before. I frowned, screwing up my eyes. There seemed to be someone in the park. Making a bigger circle in the grime and dirt that covered the window, I put one eye to it. There was someone – a little girl. She sat alone on the swing in the pouring rain. The girl held onto the metal chains attached to the swing, legs crossed at the ankles and slowly swung back and forth. Her feet were bare and she wore nothing more than what looked like a tissue-thin summer dress, even though it was winter. So there were children living in Shade just like Rush said there was. But what was the little girl – who couldn’t have been any older than ten years – doing sitting on the swing in the pouring rain? Then as if knowing that she was being watched, she slowly turned her head. Our eyes met as I stared at her from the window. From a distance her eyes looked so very black, like two dark holes in her white face. Rain ran down her cheeks like tears, her long, black hair plastered against her cheeks like lengths of matted seaweed. My lips twitched upwards into a smile. She didn’t smile back, she just continued to stare at me with those big, black eyes.

  There was a thumping sound behind me. Gasping with fright, I looked back over my shoulder to see what had made the noise. My rucksack lay on the floor. It must have toppled from the edge of the armchair. With my heart starting to slow and wishing I didn’t feel so nervous and on edge, I looked back out the window. The little girl had gone. She was nowhere to be seen. The only sign that she had ever been there was the swing, swaying back and forth in the wind.

  Chapter Nine

  Taking my rucksack with me, I left the living room and went back into the hall. Now that I had pushed back the shutters from over the window, more light fell over my shoulders, lighting up the hall. For the first time, I saw a wooden staircase leading up into a pool of gloominess. Fixed into the wall near to the stairs was another door. I went to it. This time I didn’t call out before taking hold of the door handle and pushing it open. The door was wedged tight in its warped-looking frame. With three quick shoves of my shoulder, the door flew open. I found myself looking into a kitchen. Just like the ot
her room, it was small. There was a table with two chairs, and an Aga stove that looked as if it would need a good clean before I dare cook anything in it. A sink with taps was fixed to the far wall. Above this there were three shelves. A row of dust-covered plates and cups lined them. Cobwebs hung in each corner like drapes. Turning my back on the kitchen, I went to the foot of the stairs. I looked up into the darkness. Taking hold of the bannister, I started to climb. The wooden stairs creaked with each step I took. At the top I found myself on a short landing. Three doors led from it. I went to the first, pushing the door open. Thank God! A bathroom with toilet, a small bath that was no bigger than a large bucket, and a shower. With my rucksack swung over one shoulder, I twisted the taps fixed into the cracked tiles in the shower. There was a hideous clanking sound as the pipes hidden behind the cracked walls began to shake and shudder. They made something close to a coughing sound as a thick, brown gunge spluttered from the showerhead.

  “Oh Christ,” I groaned, covering my nose and mouth again. The filthy water that chugged and spattered from the showerhead stank. This place really hadn’t been used in years. Standing back so as not to be splashed by the muck, I watched it run in thick streams into the foot of the shower. In a brown, gloopy stream it dribbled down the plughole. As I stood and watched, the pipes banging and rattling, the water eventually ran clear. I watched as the last of the dirty water swilled away. I then placed one hand under the clear running water. It was freezing cold – but it was better than nothing. At least I had a place to wash and Rush might be able to get the boiler working with a few bangs of his hammer, I smiled to myself.