Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Eighteen

"We'll take my car. They may have noticed that van you came in."

With his cockney bravado, Mathew was gearing up to go, wearing a white polo t-shirt, blue jeans, and a black leather waist-length jacket. I was mid-draining the dregs of my drink when he piped up, walking back into the sitting room.

What should have been an innocuous comment to Hannah's ears rocked mine. My mind raced. How did he know I drove a van? It wasn't even mine. So how could he possibly know how I arrived? If I wasn't on edge before, I sure as hell was now. I stood silent momentarily, digesting what he said and deciding how to react.

I could blow my sodding lid and throw around accusations, which would get me nowhere. Hannah would stick up for Mathew, as I'd expected, and Mathew would say he heard the squealing noise coming down the road, so he looked out the window to see me pull up.

Or I could play along; his car meant he would want to drive. Judging by the appearance, I guessed he took care of it and wouldn't want a Mr Nobody, who once dated his current wife, to get his hands on what is precious to him—the car. I would have a slight advantage; although he could crash us, he likely wouldn't. I had him down as an Audi Quattro man or a Sierra Cosworth, something sporty with some oomph.

I was a bit like Alice in Wonderland, falling down a hole and ending up in a strange new world where everyone hated me. Only now, I had a dinner party with the mysterious mad hatter to save my family. Did I have a plan? Did I Eck? Other than turning up and hoping, bullshit baffles brains. To do that, I kept quiet, pretending I didn't hear his comment. At least not that mattered.

No, I intended to go with the flow and what he suggested—praying that I had been overthinking the situation. Something that seems to happen far too often now. What I hadn't realised was how lousy my poker face was. I must've shown my hand as soon as he spoke. No sooner had I turned to check on the boy, and Hannah was still all right. My face met a look of surprise from Hannah.

Hannah was bright, on the ball, not one to let the world go by, and she didn't miss a trick, especially when her fiancé knew what I'd travelled in. It took a second for her to regain composure; I watched as she heavily cleared her throat. It was now that the gravity of my situation hit home, not least for Hannah. No words were uttered.

A look was good enough. Hannah stood, momentarily disappearing out of the room, leaving us in limbo. The fear of what we could face washed over me. I couldn't help but look Mathew up and down, trying to see what else I could glean from him other than right-handed... As that thought crossed my mind, Mathew changed stance, grabbing a pen and pad with his left hand before writing a note.

Even as he took a few steps, it was left-foot dominance. Was he ambidextrous? That couldn't be ruled out, but it was as if he'd switched the right side off as soon as Hannah left the room. What's his game? Because I've not known someone to turn like that.

They say the devil is in the details; if I weren't looking, it wouldn't have been noticed, much like the tattoo. Glancing towards the doorway, he came within breathing distance as the alcohol fumes singed my nostril hairs. The paper gets shoved in my hand.

'Keep Your mouth shut,'

That's what it read; Mathew stepped away in time for Hannah to walk back in, reverting to right-side dominance. Stunned, I quickly whipped the paper into my doctor's coat pocket before Hannah saw. She seemed a little on edge with a twitching smile. Then I noticed her right sleeve; she kept it pinched down to her palm, unlike the other.

"Right, when you get there, see what you see, then call the police for help. There's got to be some of your friends happy to help. Be safe."

Hannah brushed past me rather clumsily as she went to hug Mathew. I noticed the sleeve was no longer pinched as she reached her arms around his neck. My pocket felt heavier. I looked over my shoulder to check on the boy, only to see Hannah with an expression of worry, mouthing, 'Be careful.'