Blood: The Third Course

Chapter Twenty-Two

The morning was wet and dreary. The rising sun had brought no warmth to the day, and the temperature continued to plummet daily. Carson fiddled with the knob of the heater in his car, but the windows misted with the cold until he had to give up, shivering in the front seat. He turned off the main road and into the small quiet street. Slowing right down, he peered along the street, trying to find a parking spot. He wished he could afford a place with private parking, but on his salary, it was a surprise enough that he'd been able to get a place by himself. In the past, Jemima had offered to help him out, the farm wasn't flourishing, but they got by alright. These days, he knew no such offer would come, even if he lost his job.

Finally finding a spot just big enough for his car down at the end of the road, Carson pulled carefully in and, once he was satisfied the car was straight, he turned off the engine and drew out the key. He didn't move, not yet. Resting his arms across the steering wheel, he rested his forehead on his arms, taking a couple of deep breaths as he stared at his thighs.

He had to think of something else, think of anything but the barn and Jack's death. He couldn't listen to the pleading in his head anymore, he couldn't hear Darren's sobs and apologies. Worst of all, he couldn't hear his nephew's smug voice anymore. He'd never even considered that Vince would be like this, but here they were.

His nephew had once been such a bright and bubbly little boy. He loved the farm, and the pack, chasing Priya around wherever she went after she arrived. He was attentive to the animals, and... well, no one's teenage years were great. Vince, however, had changed. He didn't know when it had happened, but he'd changed.

No, he couldn't think about this. He'd promised himself.

Closing his eyes, Carson tried to pull up an image of the station, of his colleagues going about their business. He imagined the case he'd been working, boring as hell. Being a hero in some big bust wasn't exactly as believable as handing out minor infraction tickets and maybe booking a couple of shoplifters.

Climbing from the car, Carson zipped up his jacket and locked the door before he made his way back along the road. He turned up the slim path to his building. It was a nice enough building, though old. The landlords had once done an alright job in switching it out to flats instead of a large tall building, but that had been a long time ago.

His key jammed in the lock again. Carson shoved his shoulder against the door, not using his full strength, which could possibly take the door off the hinges, but just enough to dislodge the latch from where it constantly caught. He stumbled through the doorway, watery footprints across the tiled hallway floor.

He took the steps slowly, repeating the mantra in his head. He was tired, which wasn't surprising having been up all night. At least that bit was honest.

Even so, he stood at the top of the stairs for a full thirty seconds before he crossed the first floor landing to his door.

Opening the door, Carson slid the key from the lock and tossed the small bunch of keys onto the side table. He closed the door behind him, and unzipped his jacket, shrugging it from his shoulders and hanging it on the hook. He kicked off his boots, the laces winding their way across the floor like snakes. When he turned around, she was in the doorway, watching him with pursed lips. He jerked in surprise.

"Christ," Carson said. "You scared me. You need a bell or something?"

"I thought wolves had good senses of smell," she said, regarding him. Her gaze travelled from his face and down his body before snapping back up.

"I do, but..." shaking his head, he sighed. "Sorry, long night. You alright?"

He wandered through the small living room and through the open doorway into the kitchen. Now he thought more, knowing she was close, he could taste her hair, the scent of her skin on the air. He could hear the way her trousers rustled as she walked, and feel the swish of long sleeves, pushing the dust motes around the room. She came closer, and though he didn't turn to look at her, he knew she had followed him to the kitchen doorway.