Wolf House (Potter's Story) Page 4

  “Who does the book belong to?” I asked. Both Madison and Drake shrugged.

  Turning away, I waved the lighter in front of me and saw a small, wooden chair sitting in the middle of the room. How had I missed it before? I wondered. As I inspected it, it was way too small to be a chair that an adult would be able to sit comfortably in. It looked like one of those chairs you see in toy stores – the ones that were made to look like a grown-up seat, but were sized especially for kids. Kneeling down, I held the Zippo towards the floor and could see an assortment of kid’s toys. There was a soft bear, a well-loved Barbie doll, whose hair stuck out like springs on either side of her head, a red fire truck, a yo-yo, a Nintendo DS with a cracked screen, and a whole bunch of other kids’ stuff.

  “Who do these toys belong to?” I asked, picking up the Barbie doll which had fallen over. I sat it back up against the leg of the tiny chair.

  “The children,” Madison whispered from behind me.

  “What children?” I asked, standing and turning to face her.

  “The children the wolf murdered,” she said, her eyes glowing yellow in the gloom.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Do you really think I’d joke about something like that?” she replied, sounding almost out of breath.

  “What the fuck are they doing here?” I asked.

  Madison looked to Drake as if in search of the answer and he said, “The wolf leaves his victims – the dead children – sitting in that little chair, as if waiting to be found.”

  Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat and I took a step away from the chair. The thought of the Lycanthrope doing such a fucked-up thing made me feel angry and sick at the same time. I mean, what sort of animal would do such a thing? But then again, this killer was an animal. I felt angry at Madison and Drake and even more so at that smug son-of-a-bitch, Harker, who had failed to catch this wolf and put a stop to his killing.

  “I don’t believe this,” I said looking at them.

  “It’s true,” Drake said.

  “No, I don’t mean that,” I barked. “I mean you! You have the nerve to stand there and say ‘I thought all cops were issued with a flashlight!’ Fuck the flashlight, Drake. There’s more to policing than the fancy kit you get to carry around! It’s catching the scum that go and do crazy shit like this that matters! Look at you two standing there dressed up like a couple of James Bond wannabes – you’re pathetic. You haven’t got a clue. If this werewolf had been pulling this sort of shit where I come from, Murphy, Luke, and I would’ve ripped his freaking throat out by now!”

  “It’s not that easy!” Madison came back at me, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you think we’ve tried, Potter? You’ve got no idea what we’re dealing with here!”

  “Well I know exactly what we’re dealing with,” I growled. “Some bastard werewolf that thinks he can get away with killing kids. Well, I’ll tell you something for nothing. I’m glad you shot Murphy, I’m glad that you think you’re gonna frame me and Luke for murder, because it will all be so worth it to catch this animal, and nothing will give me greater satisfaction in showing you how the Vampyrus deal with murdering scum like you two!”

  At first, neither of them said anything. Then, as if waiting for me to catch my breath, Drake smiled. “If you’ve finished, I think we’d better show you around the rest of the house. Time is against us.”

  Before I’d had the chance to say anything back, Drake marched away towards a set of stairs that led up into the dark. Scowling at his back, I lit a cigarette and followed Drake and Madison up the stairs.

  At the top of the staircase there was a small landing. It was narrow and ran the length of the tiny house. Off of it led four doors. Pushing open the first, Drake said, “The bathroom, but if I were you, I’d go against a tree in the woods.”

  Peering over his shoulder, I followed the light from his flashlight as he waved it back and forth. There was a bath that was cracked and home to an infestation of spiders that scuttled in and out of the plug-hole. I could see a hand basin, and one of the taps dripped water, with an annoying plink-plink-plink sound. Above the basin was a mirror that was cracked in one corner. I looked at the toilet and could see what Drake meant when he suggested I take a whiz outside in the woods. The toilet lent to one side, and it was caked in streaks of brown gunge that had spilled out onto the wooden floorboards of the bathroom.

  “Nice,” I said, stepping back onto the landing.

  Pointing to the three other doors, Madison said, “And these are the bedrooms. Which one do you want?”

  “What do you mean which one do I want?” I asked, blowing smoke through my nostrils. “What are you trying to say, that one of them is the penthouse?” Pushing open the first door that I came to, I added, “This will do.”

  “Your choice,” Madison said. “Make yourself at home if you can, we have three nights here.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” I grumbled. But she had gone and so had Drake as they disappeared behind the doors of the other two bedrooms on the landing. The door to my room swung closed behind me, and flicking on the Zippo with my thumb, I peered about the room. It was small and the ceiling angled down by the window, mimicking the shape of the dilapidated roof above me. The room was cold, so I pulled my coat about me. Grinding out my cigarette with the heel of my boot against the rough, wooden floorboards, I noticed a bed in the far corner. I say a bed, but it was more like a camp bed – something you would use on a hunting trip. It was one of those aluminium foldaway things and I guessed it had been brought here by one of the Lycanthrope on one of their many failed stakeouts. There was a paper-thin mattress and a sleeping bag and both stank of mildew and damp. It was better than nothing, and after all, I didn’t plan on sleeping much.

  There was a small wardrobe, which I opened only to find some old clothes hanging from a small rail. There was an ancient-looking suit jacket that was threadbare around the cuffs and collar. I patted the pockets but they appeared to be empty. There was also a pair of trousers, which didn’t match the jacket. On the floor of the wardrobe sat a pair of scuffed, brown shoes. The clothing and the shoes, like the rest of the house, smelled old and ancient. With clothes that were that old, I doubted even Murphy would have worn them.

  Closing the wardrobe, I went to the window and peered out into the night. Wiping away a kaleidoscope of cobwebs, I looked down and could see a clear view of the overgrown path that led from the woods up to the front door. The windows were filthy, so, gritting my teeth, I twisted the rusty catch and opened the window to let in some fresh air.

  Leaning against the window ledge, I sucked in mouthfuls of the cold night air. Then, looking down at the overgrown front garden, I blew out that lungful of fresh air and said, “What in the name of God is going on here?”

  Standing amongst the brambles and weeds was the little chair I had seen in the room downstairs. And propped against it was that tatty-looking Barbie doll.

  9

  I raced from my room, clambered downstairs and out into the front garden. With plumes of breath escaping from my open mouth, disappearing up into the night, I looked at the chair. It looked eerily out of place alone amongst the overgrown grass. The thought of what had previously been left sitting in that chair caused me to shiver. But there was something else. The long grass surrounding it had been bent over, as if it had been trampled on. Of course it would have been. Whoever had taken the chair from the house and placed it here would have left footprints.

  I crouched down with my heart thumping excitedly in my chest and looked for my first clue. Brushing my large hands over the bent plaids of grass and broken thorns, I could clearly see track marks. But they were too big to be footprints; they were huge and pointed. They were giant paw marks. The wolf had been here, but how? Had it crept into the house and taken the chair during the short time we had all been upstairs?

  I could see the huge paw prints led away from the tiny chair and into the woods. Then, just as I was about to
turn away and go back into the house to get Drake and Madison, I saw movement in the trees at the edge of the tree line. Without hesitating, I began to loosen my coat as my back began to twitch beneath it, my wings instinctively wanting to be free. Flexing my fingers, they stretched and lengthened until the long, black fingernails brushed against my knees. That taste of copper, which I always got when my fangs came through, flooded my mouth and I swallowed it.

  Speeding forward, I stared into the darkness between the trees, and shouted, “Who’s there?”

  My question was answered with a rustling of leaves and undergrowth ahead. Raising my claws and brandishing my fangs, I shot forward, every one of my instincts alive and on fire. Reaching the tree line, the movement came again – but this time towards me. Crouching with one of my claws in the ground and the other high above my head, I waited to attack.

  Rolling back my lips, my fangs almost touching my chin, I locked my calf muscles like a sprinter on the blocks, ready to launch myself forward, when Drake appeared from the darkness between the trees.

  Seeing me, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”

  “That’s just what I was gonna ask you,” I growled, still holding my attack stance.

  “Taking a whiz,” he said, yanking up his zipper. “Jeez, what’s with the fangs?”

  Relaxing just a little, I stood up and looked at him. “Did you bring the chair outside?”

  “What chair?” he asked, looking puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “The chair!” I barked, pointing back over my shoulder.

  I watched Drake peer over my shoulder, screw up his eyes, then open them wide. “How did that get out here?”

  “You tell me, wolf man!” I said, not withdrawing my claws, just in case. I didn’t know this Drake guy and I now had reason not to trust him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, brushing past me and heading towards the chair.

  I followed him, and as I did, Madison appeared in the doorway. “What’s all the fuss about?” she asked us. Then looking at me with my giant claws swinging below my knees and my fangs hanging down over my bottom lip, she added, “You look scary.”

  Ignoring her, I pointed to the chair and said, “Who brought the chair out here?”

  Seeing it for the first time, Madison looked quickly from left to right. “Who put that there?” she asked, sensing that she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

  “A Lycanthrope,” I sneered, looking at them.

  “How can you be so sure?” Drake asked.

  Pointing at the giant footprints, I said “What else do you think made them, some freaking mutant squirrel? There’s werewolf prints all over this area, and look, they lead from the chair back into the woods, where you just happened to be taking a piss,” I said.

  “They’re not the only prints,” Drake said, staring at me. “Your footprints are here too, and they lead away into the woods.”

  “Are you trying to be funny?” I snapped, turning on him.

  “Are they your footprints?” Madison asked, stepping away from the doorway.

  “Of course they’re my footprints,” I barked. “What do you think, I magically appeared out here?”

  Looking at the chair and then back at me, she whispered, “Drake’s right though, it could have been you who brought the chair out here.”

  Shocked by what I was hearing, I looked at her, opened mouthed and said, “Are you for freaking real? Why would I bring the chair out here?”

  “You tell us,” Drake said. “We don’t know you, Potter.”

  “Listen to me, Flake, or whatever your name is,” I hissed, “I found that chair exactly where it is now. So if I was you, I’d be careful what you go around saying, because I might just take you back into that wood and stick that chair where the sun don’t shine!”

  “I was taking a leak,” Drake said, looking at me. “What were you doing out here?”

  “You don’t hear real good, do you?” I said, snatching up the chair. “I saw it sitting out here and I came out…what am I doing? I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Then, taking the chair, I went back into the house.

  “Where are you going?” Madison called after me.

  “To do what you seem so incapable of doing!” I roared over my shoulder.

  “And what’s that?” she yelled.

  “Catch the Lycanthrope scum that moved this chair!” I shouted, entering the house.

  I took the chair and placed it back in the middle of the room where I had first seen it. The toys lay on the floor and I pushed the fire truck gently with the tip of my boot. The lights on top of it flashed momentarily red, then faded as if the batteries had just run out. Slumping down into one of the arm chairs, I positioned myself so that I was looking directly at the chair.

  Drake and Madison came inside and closed the door behind them. Without saying a word, Drake stomped up the stairs and disappeared. Thank fuck for that – I couldn’t care if I never laid eyes on that turd again. Madison, however, walked silently into the room and I could see she had the Barbie doll in her hand. Reaching the chair, she stopped in front of it. Then, with the tips of her slender fingers, she straightened out the doll’s hair and propped it against the leg of the chair.

  With her head hung low and her yellow eyes cast to the floor, she walked past me, and as she did, I shot my hand out and grabbed her wrist. Madison gasped, and looked down at me.

  “What?” she breathed.

  “Do you really think I was the one who put that chair out there?” I asked her.

  With her eyes glinting in the darkness, she looked at me and said, “Does it really matter what I think, Potter?”

  Pulling her arm free, she looked away and headed for the stairs. “There are some old clothes in the wardrobe in my room,” I said into the darkness. “Who do they belong to?”

  I heard her feet stop momentarily as she simply said, “I don’t know.” Then she was gone, the sound of the staircase creaking beneath her boots.

  I turned back to face the chair. My body began to loosen, as if the armchair was sucking the tension from me. I felt myself begin to relax, as my claws withdrew back into my fingers, and my fangs slid back into my gums, taking that taste of bloody-copper with them. The little chair sat just across the room from me and I watched it. I was going to stare at it all night long. If Drake and Madison were right, the wolf would return tonight carrying a child in its giant jaws and I would be waiting for it. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  10

  She crawled up the bed towards me, the ends of her hair brushing against my chest. Her eyes sparkled and that smile of hers crept across her face. My heart raced and I breathed deeply. She brought her face over mine and I could feel her breath, warm against me. She lowered herself slowly and her lips caressed mine. She didn’t kiss me fully, but I wanted her to. It was as if she were teasing me. My heart beat louder and faster and I think she could sense it. Unable to resist her any longer, I buried my hands in her hair and pulled her down on top of me. We kissed at last, and her skin felt warm against mine. Entwining our bodies as if we were one, I rolled her over and pinned her to the bed. Arching my back, I kissed every part of her face, neck, and chest. She released a gentle moan, and this just made my heart race faster still.

  “I love you, Sophie,” I whispered in her ear, kissing her neck. Now I could feel her heart racing. I could feel the artery in her neck swelling with blood as it pulsed through her. I could smell her blood just millimetres beneath her soft skin and I wanted it. I had never smelled anything so good before.

  We had made love before, but never had it felt as intense as this. I hadn’t been back to The Hollows now for several weeks and that itch – the one that told me I wanted blood - had grown worse. It was agony. I had discovered that tobacco eased it slightly. The need for the tobacco was sometimes stronger then my lust for blood and it masked those cravings, but not tonight. I pressed her flat against the bed and she writhed beneath me and gasped, b
ut not out of fear. Not yet, anyhow.

  “I want you, Sophie,” I groaned. “I want all of you.”

  “Then take me,” she whispered against my chest, and I thought my heart was going to explode. But she didn’t realise how I wanted to take her. I wasn’t talking about making love to her, I wasn’t playing a role in some kinky love game, I was talking about ripping her throat out and gorging myself on her blood.

  My whole body shuddered and my back arched again, but not out of lust or desire, but because I could feel my spine stretching out of shape, making room for my wings that just wanted to be free. I felt my jaw lock tight as I fought to hide my fangs, and I gripped the bed sheets in an attempt to stop my fingers turning into claws.

  Why hadn’t I gone back to The Hollows? I knew why I hadn’t, because I’d met her – Sophie. I’d become besotted with her. She had become my new drug; she had become the thing that I couldn’t bear to live without. But it hadn’t just been me. Sophie had fallen in love with me too, except really she hadn’t. She had fallen in love with what she thought was the real me. Sophie believed she was in love with a human just like her – but I wasn’t human, I was a monster, a vampire bat – a Vampyrus.

  Over the last several weeks since meeting her, there had been so many times that our love for each other had deepened and I’d wanted to tell her about the real me and show her the real me. She loved me, right? Wouldn’t she, therefore, love me regardless? It was a decision that I’d put off for fear of being rejected. But tonight, as I wrestled with my lust for the red stuff, it was going to be a decision that was made for me.

  Throwing her arms around my neck and wrapping her legs about me, she pulled me close and I couldn’t fight it anymore. Crying out in pain, my back made a cracking sound as if every one of my ribs were breaking. I pulled myself from her, and kneeling, I threw my head back as my fangs shot from my gums and sprayed her with a jet of ice-cold blood. Clutching at the air with my hands, my fingers stretched as my curved, black claws appeared like a set of knives. With my heart pounding in my ears, I felt them twist as they grew into points. Then, the worst part: I could feel my nose changing shape, as if invisible fingers had been thrust up my nostrils and were yanking my head backwards. Wiry, black hair bristled from every part of my naked body and then the pain was gone. I only felt joy and pleasure as my true self was set free and my giant black wings beat behind me.