“I mean it’s not that easy. I need special equipment.”
“Why? Can’t you just cut my head off or something?”
“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my father killed a werewolf once.”
Arnold didn’t need to know that the werewolf that his friend’s father had killed was Trevor’s own mother. He was in enough trouble with Tracey already. Giving Arnold unnecessary information wouldn’t help anybody.
“But can’t you do it now?”
“It has to be when you’ve just turned back from the wolf state.”
“I’ve just turned back from being the wolf now, haven’t I? Why can’t you kill me now?”
“You’ve been back from the wolf too long already. We have to wait for the next full moon. We have no choice.”
There was no point in arguing. He’d have to trust that Trevor knew what he was doing.
“So what now?”
Trevor sighed.
“We need to try and persuade Tracey to let us back in the house.”
“Us?”
“She’s thrown me out. But, hopefully, if she’ll give me a chance to explain our plan, she’ll relent and let me back in the house – and let you stay until next full moon.”
“And then you’ll kill me.”
“And then I’ll kill you.”
21
Trevor shouldn’t have felt nervous walking up his own garden path but he’d never seen Tracey in such a bad mood. They’d had disagreements in the past, like all married couples, but nothing on this scale. This would probably be a ten on the Richter scale, topped only if he had cheated on her, though not telling your wife that your mother was a werewolf is pretty bad. He toyed with the idea of using his own key to open the front door but decided against it; she might see it as a dismissive gesture. He rang the doorbell instead.
The door didn’t open but he knew she’d looked through the spyhole. Her voice didn’t seem any calmer.
“What do you want? I told you I don’t want to see you – not yet anyway.”
“I want to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Come back in a couple of days and I may consider speaking to you again. No promises though.”
“I need to talk.”
“Why?”
“The situation’s changed.”
“How? Is it dead?”
“No. He’s not dead. It’s not that simple.”
“Why not? Cut its head off. Sorted. What’s not simple about that?”
“Let me in and I’ll explain.”
Tracey wasn’t going to fall for that one. She turned and leaned against the inside of the door.
“You can tell me from there. I can hear you perfectly well.”
Trevor knew he had no other choice.
“He can only be killed just after he’s turned back from being a wolf.”
“So you’re telling me you can’t kill it for another month?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
Trevor knew his request was probably going to go down like a lead balloon, but he asked anyway.
“Can he stay with us? Until it’s time?”
“Us? There is no us at the moment, Trev. Go live in the woods with your friend.”
“But he’ll need to feed.”
“I don’t care. Do you think anyone’s going to let it feed after what it did to Adrienne.”
“How will they know? I’ve only just told you.”
“Do you seriously think I’m going to keep this to myself? Our friends have looked after us for decades and I’m not going to betray their trust by not warning them that there’s a werewolf in our midst. It could attack any one of them next.”
Trevor knew it would be difficult to get a donor for Arnold, but he had to try.
“If he doesn’t feed with us, he’ll hunt. He won’t be able to help himself. And you know what that means.”
Tracey knew very well what that would mean. Randomly selected innocents would be preyed upon. She didn’t want that on her conscience.
“Find someone who’s willing to donate blood to it and I’ll think about letting it in. Just for the month though. If you don’t kill it next full moon, you’ll both be out on your ears – with no coming back.”
Back in the car, Trevor brought Arnold up to speed. The zombie wasn’t very optimistic.
“Who’s going to want to donate for me after what I did to Adrienne? Nobody will. And I wouldn’t blame them.”
“Somebody will, I’m sure. I’ll explain to them what will happen if they don’t.”
“What will happen if nobody volunteers?”
“The craving for blood will become unbearable and you’ll go out looking for prey. It’s what we used to do in the old days. You won’t care about what happens to your victims – whether they turn or even die.”
Arnold’s good eye looked down.
“I really am a monster.”
There was no way that Trevor could disagree.
“I’m sorry, Arnold. I didn’t realise that I was a carrier of the werewolf gene. I’ve never even felt a hint of werewolfism about me.”
Trever didn’t know if the word werewolfism was a thing or not, but it seemed to portray what he wanted to say. Arnold felt like his world was collapsing.
“So you not only made me a vampire but a werewolf too. Thanks a bunch.”
Trevor knew that he was the cause of most of Arnold’s problems, but he wasn’t responsible for all of them.
“To be fair, Arnold. You were dead before I even met you.”
Arnold couldn’t argue with that.
“So what now?”
“Now we – I – try to sweet talk one of our donors into allowing you to feed when the time comes.”
22
Just as Trevor had expected, it wasn’t an easy task finding someone willing to let Arnold feed. Adrienne had been a well-loved member of the group and nobody was in the mood to forgive Arnold for killing her. That was fine by Arnold – he couldn’t forgive himself and didn’t expect forgiveness from anyone else, but to deny him the two feeds needed before the next full moon would put everybody in the village at risk.
Trevor’s first port of call was Tom and Edna’s house. He’d hoped that being medical professionals, they’d be able to see the bigger picture and help Arnold out, but they had always thought of Adrienne as the daughter they never had and couldn’t bear the thought of letting her killer feed on their blood.
Jared, the professional skateboarder, refused point-blank. He’d always fancied Adrienne but each time he’d asked her out she bounced him right back into the friend zone – he just wasn’t her type. And now he’d never be rejected by her again.
Miss Filchett, the librarian, had never been able to look Arnold in the face even before he had become a werewolf, so it seemed pretty pointless to ask her. But he did. And she said no.
Father Pickles, the Catholic Priest, said that Arnold was an abomination and he would not suckle the evil demon. Trevor wondered what that made him and Tracey then – the priest seemed to have no problem accepting their stipend every month.
Trevor was feeling less than confident when he knocked on the next door. The door opened quickly and Howard and Hilda stood side by side. They spoke in unison, as they often did.
“Where is he?”
Trevor knew who they were referring to, but pretended he didn’t.
“Where’s who?”
The couple answered.
“The werewolf.”
Trevor looked back to where his car was parked on the road.
“He’s in the car.”
Howard spoke on his own.
“We know why you’re here. The others phoned and told us.”