Unhappily Ever After

Chapter 65 - Malcolm

I heard a twig snap. Then came the soft scuffling sounds of rubber against the dried leaves which littered the forest floor. Overhead, the birds sang a warning of people approaching, as if the wind wasn't already blowing the stench of sweaty, unwashed humans into my face. I rose onto my haunches to get a better look at the path.

Sure enough, there was Scott, sneaking through the undergrowth with a practised ease which had been missing five years ago. He was clean-shaven now, all the better to show off that pale, freckled skin and thin mouth. Another man walked a pace behind him. He was much taller than Scott and broader in the shoulders, and his hair was cropped very short.

"I don't think this is legal, Malcolm," the man said.

Malcolm? He was still using a fake name, then. I couldn't say I was surprised. The man's voice was deep and steady. He didn't sound like the kind of little prick who might hang around with Scott. Perhaps they weren't friends, after all.

"Oh, it's not, but what the police don't know won't hurt them," Scott laughed. He slowed and stopped, stooping to examine the mess of tracks. My prints must have been mixed with the false ones, and he didn't fail to notice them. Even as I watched, the corners of his lips twitched upwards into a smile.

Shit. He knew I'd been here. More than that — he knew I was still here. Somehow, I didn't think it was a coincidence that he'd arrived only a few minutes after we had.

Scott turned in a slow circle, his eyes searching every inch of the forest. I went still. Even wearing a pelt which had evolved to blend into the forest, I couldn't help wondering if those piercing brown eyes might pause where I was hidden. They didn't, of course, but the unease lingered. It was a horrible, sickly feeling of foreboding.

For the first time in my life, I felt more like the prey than the hunter.

"Want me to come up behind him?" Eira asked me through the link.

I didn't dare move a muscle while Scott was scouring the undergrowth. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his coat pocket, and I saw the muscles in his hand move in a very exact manner. He'd just taken the safety off a handgun.

I felt Eira's impatience. "Ric?"

"Stay put," I told her.

"But—"

"Stay put."

There was a time I'd have rushed him. To hell with the consequences, right? If he shot me, I would die, and that would be the end of it. Things were more complicated now, though. I couldn't do that to Jess. I had one kid at home and maybe another one on the way — I could hardly leave her to raise two little trouble-makers to adulthood all by herself, could I? It would be an impossible task.

By then, nearly a full minute had passed without me trying anything. Satisfied that I'd got the message, Scott crouched down to point at the ground. "You see the prints, don't you? Tell me, Mr Forster — what wild dog has paws of that size?"

The other man crouched and touched one of the imprints. It was one of mine, not one of the fakes, unfortunately. The way he was examining it made me think he had some background in tracking. Either he was a hobby hunter or he'd served somewhere.

"You make a good point. I've never seen tracks like these before. It doesn't make it any easier to believe any of this 'werewolf' business, though. You have to admit it's a little farfetched..."

"Only a little?" Scott laughed. "I'm surprised you're taking it so well, to be honest. But you've seen the videos, haven't you? And if that didn't convince you, I can take you to see a real, live shifter. I caught two only last week. Once you've seen the transformation with your own eyes ... there's no denying it."