Dead Wolf

“Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Potter spluttered.



“Shut up! ” both Murphy and I roared at him at once.



I turned back to face Murphy.



“I could have left you to die,” Murphy continued. “But I didn’t. I took you in my arms and...”



“Let me live a lie,” I cut in.



“No! ” Murphy insisted. “I kept you away from that woman – that wolf – Kathy Seth.”



“My mother,” I shot back.



“She wouldn’t have been a mother to you, Kiera, not a good mother,” Murphy said. “She would have destroyed you just like she destroyed Jack. The woman was pure evil. You’ve got to understand that. She would have ruined your life.”



“My life has been ruined,” I told him.



“Has it?” Murphy asked me. “You grew up with your father – my brother. He was a good man and loved you more than anything.” He glanced over at the body on the floor, then back at me. “Jessica Hudson was a good woman, until Elias Munn destroyed her.”



“And what about my brother – Jack?” I sniped.



“Brother?” Potter cut in.



I shot him a hard look, and he closed his mouth before saying anything else. I turned back to face Murphy. “You helped to make Jack what he is today.”



“And don’t you think I feel guilty about that?” Murphy said. “But I had my brother to think of. I know Jack was only a boy, but I couldn’t risk him destroying the new life my brother had with you. But I tried to make amends.”



“How?” I snapped.



“Years later when I arrested him for killing those women,” Murphy started to explain.



“The moment I saw him, I knew who he was. The curse might have eaten him up, made him look older, but I recognised him at once. I felt as if I had his victims’ blood on my hands, too.”



“How come?” I asked.



“Because perhaps you are right,” he sighed deeply. “Perhaps I did help to make him the killer he is today. But that’s the real trick. That’s what the Lycanthrope are good at.”



“They’re good for something?” Potter groaned, collapsing into the seat where I had earlier chained Jack.



“Shut it, Potter,” Murphy said gruffly.



Then looking back at me, he added, “I did what I thought was best, Kiera. I did what I thought was best for you. But like I said, the wolves make you feel as if you have blood on your hands. The wolves have caused me nothing but heartache for as long as I can remember.”



“What do you mean?” I asked him.



“I lied to Jack because I thought I was protecting my brother from...” he trailed off as if remembering something that had hurt him very much.



“From what?” I pushed, desperate to understand why Murphy had tricked Jack and kept secrets from me for so long. I wanted to understand so I didn’t have to hate him.



“Although it pains me to say it, I do understand why Potter gave into those wolves like he did,” Murphy said. Then, looking at Potter he said, “And there is a reason I keep giving the wolves a second chance. I freed Jack from prison because I felt guilty for what I had done. That is the truth of the matter.” Murphy paused for a moment then swallowed hard. “To love a wolf is like no other love. They somehow take hold of you. You do stuff – take risks – give up everything you know to be right. I did what I did to try and save my younger brother.”



“Save him from what?” I whispered.



“The pain of falling in love with a wolf and having your heart broken," he whispered back at me, his face looking suddenly grey and old. “I was in love with a wolf once, but no good came of it. It ended in heartache and murder.”



Turning his back on us, Murphy went to the window. With one quick swipe of his claws, he pulled the curtains free. He crossed the room, and kneeling down, he covered his brother’s body with them. Murphy lowered himself onto the chair and took his pipe from his trouser pocket. I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the wall, drawing up my knees beneath my chin.



With the wind howling outside and snow pelting against the window, I watched a cloud of blue smoke drift from the end of Murphy’s pipe.



His usually bright blue eyes looked clouded over and dark. Not looking at either Potter or me, Murphy looked thoughtfully ahead as he sucked on his pipe. Then slowly, he started to talk. This is what he said.



Chapter Seven



Murphy



I lived in a small house, deep in The Hollows with my mother and younger brother, Paul. My father had been one of those who had decided to go exploring in the vast wastes of the Talles Varineris canyon and had never returned. It was believed he had been transfixed by its beauty and had wandered into the canyon’s great fissures and been lost forever. My mother had loved him deeply, and was never the same again. She suffered from melancholia and spent most of mine and my brother’s childhood staring at the wall, as if unable to move or function until our father’s return.



My brother and I were, therefore, often left to do as we pleased. Paul was more studious than I was and often spent his time with his head in books which had been brought down into The Hollows from the world above. He was interested in the art and the films made by the Vampyrus named Burton. I on the other hand, was interested by the world above, but not by the books and works of art – but by the adventures I hoped to find there. With my mother pretty much comatose most of the time, it didn’t take much effort on my part to sneak away from home through the tunnels and the wells and out into the world above. I had found a tunnel which brought me out just on the outskirts of a great forest. You have to understand that for a boy of fourteen, this new world with its giant trees, lakes, and a sky that spread high overhead like a giant blue ocean was like climbing out of The Hollows into a fantasy land that promised adventure and excitement.



Like other young Vampyrus, I had heard the stories of the dangers that lie over our heads and how we should keep away from the humans because of their fear for anything different. I’d listened to the stories spread about by the Elders, that if the humans were to discover that a world of living, breathing winged creatures lived beneath them, they wouldn’t be able to help themselves from coming below and capturing us – experimenting on us – killing us. But just like any human teenager, I thought I was immortal and that I would live forever. I never for one moment thought that I would ever face any danger or threat that could frighten me, let alone kill me. I believed I could take on the world.



My first few excursions above ground lasted only minutes, as I dared out of the tunnel I had found, and ventured into the new world I had heard so much about and was so desperate to explore. But with every trip above ground, my stays got a little bit longer. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, a full hour, half a day, then a full day and night. I didn’t do much at first. I would tentatively wander into the forest, checking constantly back over my shoulder, checking that I could still see the hole that led back home should I need to head below ground quickly. As I grew more confident, I would sit and stare up at the sky and watch how the sun glinted and sparkled off the leaves of the trees which towered above. I could sit for hours on the forest floor, my back against the trunk of a tree and stare upwards, watching the clouds lumber lazily overhead. I’d sit there like that until my neck went stiff. As my confidence grew, I ventured further into the woods, until one day, I came across a vast lake. Its waters were red, almost black, and it seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. Never before had I seen such a thing. It was surrounded on all sides by fir trees and willow trees, which seemed to stoop over the lake as if taking a drink of water. I visited this lake every day for almost a year and never did I see anyone or anything other than my own reflection staring back at me from the dark red waters. Then one day, that all changed, and I spied the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.



The wolf came out from the shade of the trees, its paws gently trampling over the pebbles which covered the shore. Its long, sleek body was covered in fur so bright and golden, it looked like the wolf had somehow soaked up rays of the sun I had so often watched springing through the canopy of leaves in the forest. It came forward, sniffing the air as it approached me. Although my heart raced, it wasn’t through fear, but wonder and curiosity. Along with the stories about the humans, I had also heard the stories of the murderous race known as the Lycanthrope. Surely such a beautiful creature as the one which stood before me couldn’t be one of them. I had always imagined the Lycanthrope to be evil-looking monsters, with rows of jagged, flesh-infested teeth, and long, black, pointed tails and claws as ragged as a set of rusty nails. This creature looked nothing like those nightmarish images I had conjured. Its eyes shone as bright as its fur. The wolf circled me, making soft, short woofing sounds in the back of its throat. It’s long, silk-like tail brushed against my legs, and I felt a tingle of excitement travel through my body. As the wolf circled me, it continued to sniff the air.



Eventually the wolf stopped, resting on its hind quarters before me. The creature was as tall as me, even though it was seated, and it looked straight into my eyes. At once, I felt almost overcome by a sense of warmth, joy – love? I couldn’t be sure. I had never experienced such feelings before. My heart was beating so loud now, that it almost blocked out the sound of the lake lapping against the shore. Then the wolf spoke.



“You’re not human, are you?”



The wolf’s voice was soft, like that of a young girl. I was so surprised by it; I staggered backwards into the water.



“Be careful,” the wolf spoke in warning.



This time I landed on my arse in the water. I splashed about as I tried to stand. Some of the red water went into my eyes and I wiped it away with the tips of my fingers. When I opened them again, the wolf was gone. In its place stood a young girl, who was about the same age as me.



Just like the wolf had been the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, so was the girl now standing on the shore. Her feet were bare, but the skin looked soft and pearly white – something close to marble. The girl wore a pale blue dress which swished just above her knees. Thick golden locks of hair hung over her shoulders and her eyes shone a bright yellow. I had seen my fair share of pretty Vampyrus girls back home in The Hollows, and I had seen lovely-looking human girls in the picture books my brother often read – but I had never seen a girl as beautiful as the one who stood before me now.