The Wereling 1: Wounded Page 8

  But instead, Tom got up, grabbed hold of the man’s neck, and bared his teeth.

  Passengers yelled in alarm, and the man shrank back, shocked and frightened. ‘Whoa, mister,’ he gasped, trying to prise Tom’s fingers from his neck. ‘Get the hell off me!’

  Tom shook his head. He couldn’t stop. And he couldn’t speak. Every word he tried to form came out as a growl.

  Kate grabbed hold of him, pulling on his arm. The thief’s friend stood up on his seat, shouting out threats from a safe distance.

  The bus driver slammed on his brakes.

  The jolt seemed to bring Tom back to his senses. He slackened his grip and the thief staggered back to his friend, clutching his neck.

  ‘Next stop’s Caldwell, mister,’ the driver called to Tom along the aisle. ‘Will you return to your seat or do I dump you right here?’

  ‘He’s fine, and we’re sorry,’ Kate called as she guided Tom back to his seat. ‘All a big misunderstanding, everything’s cool.’ In his ear, she hissed angrily: ‘You’re acting like a total freak! What is it?’

  ‘He was going to steal her money,’ Tom muttered, pointing to the old woman. ‘I had to stop him … ’

  ‘I do believe you’re right, young man,’ the old woman said. The disturbance had woken her, and she was smiling gratefully at him. ‘I dozed off without shutting my bag. Again … ’ She sighed. ‘Crazy old fool, leaving my money in the open that way. If I’d lost it I couldn’t eat for a month.’ She placed a warm wrinkled hand on Tom’s leg. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Tom muttered.

  ‘I reckon that’s more than can be said for you.’ The old woman looked at him with some concern. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Tom hesitated, floundering for a plausible excuse for his feverish appearance. ‘Just over-tired, I guess,’ he said finally, forcing a smile.

  The woman nodded sympathetically. ‘My name’s Patience Stern,’ she introduced herself. ‘I used to be a midwife. Once a nurse, always a nurse, I guess.’ The laughter lines scrunched up around her warm brown eyes. ‘You kids got far to go? Where you going?’

  Tom opened his mouth to tell her, but Kate gave him a warning look.

  ‘What it is … ’ She laughed awkwardly and took Tom’s hand. ‘We’re actually eloping. Travelling around, seeing where life takes us … ’ she added vaguely.

  Tom’s mouth stayed open.

  ‘Our parents say we’re too young, but what do they know about it, huh?’ said Kate conspiratorially.

  What do I know about it? thought Tom, dazedly. He found he liked the feeling of Kate’s slim hand in his.

  Patience was lapping this up. ‘That is so adorable!’ she squealed, beaming with delight. There seemed little that was stern about Patience. ‘So, you got a place to stay tonight?’

  ‘Oh, we thought we’d just stay on the bus – keep going, y’ know,’ Kate told her.

  Patience clucked like a mother hen. Then she pursed her lips and nodded, like she’d come to a conclusion. ‘Look, you two. I get off at the next stop. And since my youngest moved out fifteen years back – I’ve been staying with him this week, you know – I can easily give two lovebirds a night’s lodgings.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘Oh, no, we couldn’t really— ’

  ‘Now, I insist!’ Patience folded her arms across her ample bosom. ‘After all, one good turn deserves another. I’ll fix you some chicken broth, give you a bed for the night and send you on your way with a good breakfast.’ She looked meaningfully at Tom. ‘Be a lot better for him than staying cooped up here on the bus all night.’

  Tom felt the itch tickling through his body again. The moon was still gloating at him through the window. ‘She’s right,’ he muttered.

  Kate looked at him, troubled, then back to Patience. ‘That’s kind of you, thanks. Would you mind if we talked about it?’

  ‘Sure, honey,’ Patience agreed, settling back in her seat. ‘You go right ahead and do your talking.’

  Straight away, Kate snatched her hand away from Tom’s and absently curled her long hair round her fingers. ‘Thanks but no thanks,’ she muttered.

  ‘Kate, I have to get out of here,’ Tom whispered. ‘What if I lose control again? Or worse this time?’

  ‘Your body’s fighting the ’wolf infection. It’ll pass.’ She sighed. ‘And we don’t know Patience from Eve. Why should she want to help us?’

  Tom gave her a withering look. ‘Out in the real world it’s called returning a favour. I saved her pension money, now she’s offering us a bed for the night.’ He put a hand on her Kate’s leg as Patience had done to him and tried to smile. ‘Fiancée.’

  ‘You want to talk about favours?’ Kate said, ignoring him. ‘If she’s seen with us, we could be marking her out for death. Did you think about that?’

  ‘All right, whatever.’ Tom sighed. He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, his head starting to pound. ‘But I have to get off at Caldwell. Even if we just wait at the station for the next bus.’

  Kate nodded. ‘OK. I’ll tell Patience we’ll skip bed and breakfast.’ She rose up in her seat. Then she stopped, smiled and nudged Tom.

  Patience was asleep again, snoring quietly to herself, her bulging purse lying open again on her lap.

  When the bus pulled into Caldwell, Tom almost fell out of the doors. The rucksack seemed to weigh twice as much as it did before. And always, the itch was prickling through his veins, tickling the back of his mind until he wanted to scream.

  High above, the moon gleamed silver in the black sky. Tom gave it the finger and shuffled over to the sidewalk. ‘Wish I knew how long this was going to last,’ he croaked.

  ‘Me too, believe me,’ said Kate. Her manner was brusque, but he could see she was troubled. Afraid for him, or afraid for herself?

  Patience heaved herself off the bus and waved to them. She was the only other person alighting here. She hesitated as she turned to leave the terminal. ‘Sure there’s nothing I can do for you two?’

  Kate bit her lip, looking worriedly at Tom. ‘If anyone comes for us while you’re like this, we’ll be helpless.’

  Tom said nothing.

  Kate made a decision. ‘Uh, Patience?’ she called. ‘If the offer still stands … I guess chicken broth would be good right now.’

  Kate felt horribly exposed as they shuffled slowly through the dark streets. Patience must have been in her sixties but she was actually walking faster than Tom could manage. He had to keep asking them to stop and rest. It was driving Kate mad.

  And clichéd though she knew it was, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched.

  One time, while Tom rested against a lamppost, still shivering and sweating, Patience sidled over to Kate. ‘Listen, honey,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Your boy. He … He ain’t using, is he?’

  Kate blinked in surprise, and found herself smiling. ‘Tom? No way. He’s so straight he’d get flashbacks from a strong cup of coffee.’

  Patience looked relieved. ‘Only I don’t approve of that kind of thing. Drugs and all.’ She looked up at Kate uncertainly, her usual jollity replaced by something more vulnerable. ‘I can trust the pair of you, can’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Kate replied gently. ‘How about we pay you what we can for board? I’m sure Tom will feel better after some sleep. We’ll be out of your hair again first thing in the morning.’

  Patience beamed again. ‘No rush. And I’ll drive you back to the terminal in my old Chevy.’

  ‘Really, there’s no need—’

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ Patience declared brightly as they all shuffled off again. ‘Little spin’ll be good for it. Poor car’s shut away out of sight most of the time … ’

  While the old woman chattered on, Kate lost herself in her thoughts. She was acting so cool in front of Tom, playing it like she was some tough bitch who knew just what she was doing. Luckily, he didn’t seem to realise how terrified she really was.

  How many times had she lain al
one in her room imagining this kind of freedom? But could she hack it in the real world? She’d spent most of the last three years avoiding other people’s company, too scared to let anyone get too close to her, for fear of what her family might do to them. And Mark’s fate, after he’d slipped through her radar, had proved her right. Back in her room, when she’d got tired of someone she just said ‘Bye!’ and turned them off, disconnected. So clean and simple. Now, suddenly, here she was cooped up for days, with a guy she barely knew in her face the whole time.

  Not clean. Not simple. Sick Boy Tom was a mess – and so was she.

  She shot a glance at him, shuffling and shaking along the pavement beside her like he had Parkinson’s or something. Wereling or not, this wasn’t running away. It was wading through molasses. Kate felt a surge of panic, claustrophobia and agoraphobia all mixed up together.

  Tom caught her eyes on him. He straightened a little, forced a smile.

  Kate looked away guiltily. Back when she’d thought he was leaving her all alone at the edge of the forest, in the aftermath of that awful, sickening violence, she’d wanted to scream for him to come back. Now she felt like screaming at him to leave her the hell alone. It wasn’t fair and she knew it; just like all the horrible things he’d gone through weren’t fair. But behind the tough bitch was a frightened little girl who felt like she was suffocating.

  Ditch him, that part of her urged. Sneak out tonight while he’s sleeping and disappear. Hide away, where they’ll never find you.

  ‘I said, we’re here, honey.’ Patience looked at her oddly, then smiled. ‘You seemed miles away.’

  Kate gave Patience a weak smile back. I wish, she thought.

  They were standing outside a dilapidated clapboard bungalow. Home sweet home. Tom clung on to the porch rail like he’d fall if he let go. Patience unlocked the door and gestured them inside. Tom muttered thank-yous as he went inside, but Kate paused on the threshold.

  ‘You two had a fight?’ Patience queried. ‘You ain’t hardly said a word all the way back.’

  ‘It’s nothing, really,’ said Kate, suddenly exhausted.

  ‘Then I’d kiss and make up if I were you,’ Patience advised sympathetically. ‘Looks to me like that boy needs you right now, honey.’

  Kate sighed. ‘I guess maybe he does.’

  Patience fed them and then went off to prepare her spare room.

  Poor old Patience – well-named, Tom observed. She’d made some game stabs at conversation while they were eating, but with him shivering on the couch and Kate quiet and withdrawn in a chair, it was pretty hopeless.

  After a few minutes, Patience had called them in, bid them sweet dreams, then retired to her own room.

  Tom gratefully tugged the heavy drapes across the window, shutting out the moon’s bald glare, and then surveyed their digs for the night.

  He and Kate faced each other awkwardly over the single bed.

  ‘I know we’re almost married, but … ’ Tom blushed. ‘How about we go top to tail?’

  ‘You have it,’ Kate told him. ‘I’ll take the floor.’

  ‘Doesn’t seem very gallant of me,’ Tom observed.

  ‘It isn’t.’ She took a blanket from the bed. ‘But you’re sick and I’m saintly.’

  ‘Too sick to argue, that’s for sure.’ He tugged absently at his shirt. ‘I don’t even have the strength to get changed for sleep.’

  He waited for a smart remark or jokey put-down, but Kate stayed silent. She just kicked off her boots and flopped down on the blanket fully-clothed.

  Tom was uneasy as he lay back on the bed. He knew Kate coped with the world by keeping it at arm’s length and throwing sarcasm at it, but there was something kind of restless in her manner now. She couldn’t look him in the eye.

  He was still puzzling as sleep broke over him silently, like a black wave.

  Tom woke with a spasm of cramp in his legs. It was still dark. He rubbed at his calf muscles, swung them over the side of the bed. And froze.

  His fever seemed to have gone. But so had Kate. If she were still lying down his feet would be in her face right now.

  He switched on the bedside light, and his uneasy feeling grew stronger. Kate’s rucksack had vanished with her.

  Suddenly wide-awake, the cramp in his legs forgotten, Tom pulled on his shoes and opened the door a crack. It gave on to the little living room. The clutter and bric- a-brac made strange shapes and shadows in the orange gloom spilled by the streetlamps outside. ‘Kate?’ he whispered.

  Nothing.

  ‘Kate!’

  The toilet flushed. Tom relaxed a little and waited for her to return. But it was Patience who shuffled into the living-room through the other door, wrapped up in a robe, her feet buried in fluffy slippers.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked, turning on a side lamp. ‘Thought I heard you call for Kate. Well, she ain’t out here. Managed to lose your bride-to-be in that itty-bitty room?’

  Tom guessed he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. ‘Uh, no, I just – that is … ’ Tom smiled awkwardly, unsure quite what to say and not wanting to alarm her any further. ‘Sorry, I was just, uh … trying to wake her. But she’s flat out.’ Or out, anyway, he thought worriedly.

  ‘You’re all dressed. Not planning on shooting through without saying goodbye I hope?’

  He shook his head, smiled politely, his mind elsewhere.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep, huh?’ Patience sank down in an old armchair. ‘Well, I know sleepless. And restless.’ She chuckled softly. ‘Yeah, they’re both old friends of mine. I know how it feels to be cooped up with too little space and too much hunger … ’ Then her voice hardened. ‘And I know who you are, and what you’ve done. Both of you.’

  Tom’s face froze in shock. Gooseflesh rose along his arms and neck.

  ‘Just as I knew some crummy punk would try to steal my money on the bus if they thought I was asleep. And that a nice little boy like you would jump to my rescue without suspecting a thing.’

  Tom stared in horror at the dark shape in the chair as it started to shake.

  ‘Marcie’s put out the word on you two.’ Patience’s kind features gave way to something twisted and feral. Her eyes shone yellow-white like the moon through the gloom of the room. Her back arched and snapped, she fell forwards. The robe fell away to reveal a thick, silver-grey fur covering her skin like mould on a peach.

  ‘Payback time,’ she snarled. Then her face bent and cracked outwards into a snout, her jaws sagged to reveal long, yellowing teeth. All that had been human was consumed by ’wolf.

  g

  g

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tom backed away. He grabbed a throw from the old armchair and tossed it at the nightmare creature creeping towards him. She leaped easily to one side to dodge it. Tom’s heart sank further as he circled away from her – and away from both the front door and his stuff in the spare room. Despite her age, the werewolf that had been Patience Stern was fast. Tom debated whether or not he might reach the door that led through to the rest of the bungalow before she could stop him.

  It would be close.

  A desperate idea came to him. Tom looked past Patience to the doorway of the spare room. ‘Kate, get back, quick!’ he shouted.

  As the ’wolf spun round eagerly with a frightening roar, Tom darted for the internal door.

  Patience howled as she realised she had been tricked, and bounded after him. Tom slammed the door shut in her face. A second later he heard claws on the wood, heavy paws swiping at the handle.

  ‘Kate!’ he called, terrified, pushing back against the door with all his weight. ‘Kate, are you here?’ No answer, save the pounding on the door, which boomed and shook as Patience hurled her lupine bulk against it.

  She’s gone, he realised with a sick feeling. Isn’t it obvious? She ditched you the first chance she got.

  Tom stared round frantically at the small passageway that gave on to the only other rooms in the place: Patience’s bedroom, the bathroom an
d the kitchen.

  There was a back door in the kitchen.

  Tom grabbed a wooden chair from the kitchen and wedged it under the living-room door handle. Then he dashed to the back door.

  He caught a glimpse of yellow eyes through the grimy glass of the window. Crouched shapes slunk back into the shadows.

  Patience had called her friends … No escape that way, then.

  Tom ran over to the cluttered bathroom, yanking the frayed light cord as he entered. He stood panting under the half-hearted glow of the bare bulb. He knew Patience might break through any moment now. There was a black rectangle of frosted glass above the toilet. The window looked to be just big enough for him to squeeze through.

  He jumped back and swore as the window cracked dully under the weight of something heavy from outside. Something was trying to get inside, to get him. He backed away and caught his leg against the bathtub, overbalanced, and fell inside along with bottles of bath salts. Cursing, he scrambled back out and, out of options, dived straight inside Patience’s bedroom and slammed the door.

  Then he heard the low growl, and saw the old grey ’wolf rising from behind the sagging bed, jaws wet and open, beady eyes shining in triumph. She must’ve got through the living room door while he’d been clattering about in the tub. Crept in here and waited for him, playing with him, knowing that this was the only place he could go.

  But he guessed the fooling around was over. Now it was payback time.

  Tom’s heart beat hard enough to punch a hole in his ribs. He wondered if the wolf inside him, sensing death close at hand, would rise up and fight. He gritted his teeth, prayed it would stay hidden and die with him, alone in its own darkness.

  Patience’s powerful leg muscles tensed. She was about to jump when the whole of the far wall seemed to collapse in an explosion of brick and plasterboard.

  Tom threw his arms up over his face for protection and fell back against the door. The old ’wolf squealed as the debris piled down on her.