Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Seventeen

'Behind Closed Doors,'

'Brrrr, Brrrr, Brrrr, Brrrr - Click,'

"Hello. Angela? You there?"

"Tut Tut Tut. Mr Morris. Did you think it would be that simple? Well, you know what they say, an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, kid for a kid,"

A deep East London voice grated down the phone, taking the wind from my sails. I'd figured on someone going to my house, but only to check if I'd returned. Not hanging around, waiting for my call. Had they hurt my family? Tears were building with my worries.

I looked into the room; Hannah and her husband were relaxed with little worry aside from what I brought to their home. The boy was now tossing and turning, improving by the minute. Anyone else would see a helpless child. Yet, I faced an impossible choice: my helpless family or the helpless boy. The thing inside was waking; my muscles pulled tight. What if I let it come? See what happens, go home, and fight to save their lives.

"Please don't hurt my family."

"We haven't yet. What can I say? The night is young."

"Please leave them alone; I will do what you ask."

"We don't need you for anything. We have what we want; you can keep the reject; they'll die soon. The question is, can you make it home before your family joins them? Before they're skinned alive?" My legs turned to jelly, with my heart pounding through my ears.

"H...H... How do I know you haven't already?"

"Come here, bitch. 'Aaarrrrrggghhh heeelllppp, let me go.' See, she's still breathing for now. Let's see how much longer. TikTok."

Angela let loose a high-pitched throaty scream and squealed like a banshee down the phone, jarring my bones; I was helpless and quite far away, and the thought filled me with doom.

"Who are you? Why are you doing all of this?"

"We are the last people you ever wanted to cross paths with, and soon you will know."

'Click,'

The phone line went dead; my hand drifted the receiver back to the mount before facing the room. Hannah read my expression; my look of worry became hers. I brought the boy to her to be safe and out of reach. I didn't think about the risk to my family.

"What is it, Andy?" Hannah interrupts, topping up our glasses.

"S...s... someone's at my house. They have my family."

"Who are they? Andrew. Are we supposed to take you at your word?" Matthew threw his two penneth worth into the mix while keeping that slimy smile on show. I don't know what it is about him, but he was oozing nothing good, and that one comment was in my moment of pain. It made me want to rip his throat out. What did Hannah see in him?

"Matty, for Christ's sake, behave. I trust Andy, and if he says there's something wrong, there's something wrong."

Hannah had a fire in her tone. I knew that well. It hasn't mellowed since I felt her wrath. Only, in doing so, Matty's face changed. If looks could kill, there'd be a massacre in the sitting room. It was fleeting, but long enough for me to see Mathew drop the act. I've always thought, 'Never know what goes on behind closed doors.'

That is a statement so true, from what I saw. Their domestic bliss was the least of my worries; I had to get home. All because of what was lying on the sofa. His twitching had stopped, and the temperature looked to have eased. He was turning a corner. I was staring at a child who, on the face, seemed so innocent. Now, the lives of my family were on the line.

"I know nowt of who they are, only since the house fire, weird things have been happening and getting unwanted attention from people I'd least expect. Doctors make phone calls to people who have detectives on their payroll. All are suddenly wanting the boy. Now my family is in trouble."

Hearing my words out loud, you'd think I was making the shit up. Did I make the right choice by bringing the kid here? Or had we gone from one hellish situation to another?

"Leave him here; I'll drive you to yours. It sounds like you might need the backup, anyway. Hopefully, stop anyone from dying," Matthew offered to help, catching me off guard. Why did he assume someone would die?

"Why would you do that? Just now, you thought I might make shit up. So, why? I appreciate it. But why?"

I had to know; I had to push and see if there was a motive or a sudden self-righteous need to do good. Not that I would believe anything that came out of Mathew's mouth; hidden agendas of late had poisoned my mind; too much had gone on in a short time. And none of it has been good.

"I wouldn't hear the end if I didn't help. The boy is fine here until we know otherwise."

I looked at Hannah, who nodded in agreement as she moved to cover the boy with a cute, multicoloured knitted blanket. The kind my nan used to make, more crochet than the boring woolly jumper. It seems like a neat floral pattern and another string to Hannah's bow. I glanced at him next, noticing a wave of gooseflesh ripple, probably prompting Hannah's care. That's when I clocked his eyes. Flickers. The lids were letterbox flaps, open-shut - open-shut.

I don't know if he was dreaming or if any life was happening there. But when those lids flipped open, I saw a blackness that made me shit myself. A spooky midnight black with a dim moonlight glow around the edge. At first, I thought it was a pleasant change from the glowing red. Then I worried about Hannah and how it would affect her if the kid woke up and went psycho.

"Andy. It's fine. I haven't forgotten how to foster, you know. Besides, it could be a trial run. After all, that's what you'll need if your friends are few. It gives me an excuse to cut down my hours at Bryant and May. People keep getting sick,"

Hannah smiles, not fake or with any hidden malice. It was her same old genuine ways. I've kept tabs on her from afar. She'd started her application to foster years ago, and I knew of her on-off fostering through social workers I've met through the job. It's never seemed the right time to carve open old wounds. Until now, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Until now, it's been about safety. The boy will be traumatised and, more than likely, hard work. So, how long have you two been together and engaged? And what the hell is Bryant and May?" The subtle approach might work under the guise of security for the kid. There was more to Mathew than met the eye. And I wanted to know what.

"A little over a year now. A matchstick company in Bow," Hannah gave an awkward look to Mathew, who smiles back as he withdrew the glass from his lips.

"What engaged?"

"Both. A whirlwind that I didn't want to stop. And when you know, you know. Eh, sweetheart," Hannah pouted a loving smile towards Mathew, who looked awkward.

"Er... yeah... Absolutely. When the old pitchfork chooses its prey, there's no stopping it. You could say fate had set us on the same path. What would be the chances that we both go into 'the classic book emporium' for a copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' coincidence eh,"

Mathew gave a grin from the corner of his mouth. What would be the chances, indeed? Some would say fate; I would say a carefully concocted plan. I didn't have Mathew pegged as the classic book type. Whereas Hannah wouldn't go anywhere without one. Perhaps his intentions were genuine; having liked her, he did anything he could to find a common interest—a way to get her talking.

That's what I was hoping, not that she would be unlucky in love for a second time. Because I loved her back then, my life would be nowt without direction. Time will tell what Mathew's game is; for now, I needed his help and fast.

"Well, if the offer's there in that case, please. We must go now."

I fed Mathew's ego through gritted teeth, checking on the kid; his eyes continued to flick open. The black was still there, reminding me of the five-pointed star tattoo on Mathew. Could he be one of those fanatics?