The Devil's Hound

Part 24 - Wednesday 8th August continued

Renée padded forward with her quick efficient gait. Nigel tried to copy her, mirroring her movements, but he was a clumsy reflection threatening to trip over his own feet. She moved quickly between the barns stopping only at the edge of the wheat field. The waist high wheat, their ears full or ripping kernels, rustled in the breeze that played with Renée's long hair. In the moonlight the field looked like a sea of silver, the movements of the wind the shimmering waves. There was a clear path of trampled wheat heading into the field.

"The man they were hunting entered the wheat here," she said pointing to the path. Something caught her eye. She knelt down to examine the wheat on the edge of the field a few feet away from the trampled path. "The wolf entered here."

Looking over her shoulder he could see one bent steam, certainly not evidence that something had brushed through it.

"And we are going after them?" he asked

"You can turn back if you want."

He swallowed and shook his head. "I am coming too."

A loud howl filled the air. Without another word Renée set off into the wheat. Nigel hesitated at the edge of the field. Concealed in the waist high wheat, the monster could be anywhere. He cursed softly and ran after her. He held the rifle at chest height, his finger on the trigger ready to fire at the first sign of the beast. The wheat parted round his waist with a soft rustle as it brushed his clothes.

Ahead Renée stopped. She lifted her rifle to her shoulder and looked down the barrel. Nigel tensed. There were silhouettes of distant trees, the buildings of the perimeter wall of the workhouse to their left, the farm buildings behind them, but no sign of the wolf. Keeping her rifle at shoulder height she edged forward. He followed her into a trampled clearing in the middle of the field. What remained of the man that had been brought to the yard lay in the crumbled wheat. He had been mauled and partially devoured. Nigel's stomach churned at the sight and he turned away from the grisly remains feeling suddenly warm in the cool night air.

That was when he spotted it. Forty yards away a werewolf stood on its hind legs. Its long tongue dangled from its mouth. The fur around its jaws was mattered and dark with blood from its feast. It stared at him with blazing eyes.

", on our right!" Nigel yelled as he took aim. Renée pivoted as he fired. He knew as the werewolf dropped down into the wheat that he had missed.

"Where was it?" she asked.

"About forty yards over there," Nigel said pointing at the spot where the werewolf had been.

"Keep your eyes open."

The whole field seemed to be moving in the wind. The werewolf could be creeping closer and they would not be able to see it amongst the rustling wheat. He stole a quick glance at Renée. She was looking everywhere else but the direction his rifle was pointed. He turned back to where he had seen the werewolf. He wasn't completely certain he was looking in the right place.

The werewolf leapt out of the wheat to his left. Nigel stumbled backwards, tripped over the remains of the man and fell heavily on his side. Renée twisted bringing her rifle round but she was not quick enough. With a forehand armed with dagger like claws the werewolf swiped at her. She was thrown into a crumpled heap amongst the wheat. The werewolf lunged forward going for the kill. Nigel rolled on to his stomach and fired.

The werewolf yelped. It turned aside and vanished into the wheat leaving spots of blood on the wheat stalks.

Nigel jumped to his feet and hurried over to where Renée lay in the wheat. The front of her shirt was soaked with blood, the cloth torn to reveal four long gashes over her navel. She gingerly touched her wound and winced.

"Are you alright?" It was a stupid question but it was all he could think to say.

"I will live," she said. She thrust out her arm. "Help me to my feet."

He grabbed her hand. It was slippery and wet with blood. He pulled her to feet. She gritted her teeth and gave a soft groan. She pressed her hand against her stomach then realising she needed two hands to fire her rifle let go. The blood trickled down over her waist on to her trousers.

"The werewolf?" she gasped.

"I shot it," Nigel said pointing to the blood spotted stalks.

"Where did you hit it?"

"I don't know." He had taken the shot without aiming. He had fired in the creature's direction and been fortunate to hit it. Whether the bullet had just grazed it or had mortally wounded it he couldn't say.

"Then we have to assume you missed. We have to get out of this field. We can't see it in the wheat until its too late," she said. She took a step forward and grimaced. He took her step towards her. She shook her head. "Don't worry about me. Keep looking for it."

He scanned the wheat for a clue to the werewolf's whereabouts. It could be anywhere. He could no longer see the trail of blood on the stalks. Renée staggered on leaving her own trail of bloody wheat ears in the dark. They headed back towards the barns trampling a pair of trails of broken stalks in their wake. Leaving the field Renée collapsed to the floor. Her tanned skin was pasty in the moonlight. Strands of hair stuck to the perspiration on her forehead. Nigel feared her wounds were worse than she had said.

He pulled her to her feet and threw her arm over his shoulder. They hobbled towards the barns. He glanced back at the field. Twenty yards into the field the werewolf stood on its hind legs. Supporting Renée he couldn't lift his rifle to take aim. The werewolf snarled and dropped on to all fours disappearing amongst the wheat. Nigel pulled Renée forward. He kept glancing over his shoulder expecting to see the werewolf sprinting towards them, to hear the soft padding of its feet, to smell its rancid breath of rotting meat as it leapt for their throats. Yet for some reason it held back. They turned the corner, hobbled past the two dead bodies in the yard, and into the barn.

The giant of a werewolf was curled up at the foot of the ladder. Its tongue hung limply from the side of its mouth. He led Renée to the ladder. They stepped over the dead body. Nigel tensed ready to scream if it wrapped a furry paw around his ankle. He helped Renée climb the ladder pushing her from beneath as she clutched at her stomach with one hand. Eager to get away from the dead monster he climbed up after her then helped her over to the window. He sat her down in the moonlight. He took off his flat cap and passed it to her to press against the wound.

"I owe you one," she said. "I doubt I would have got out of the field without you."

"It was nothing."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You did good," she shifted position and winced.

He bit his bottom lip as he looked down at her. In the moonlight it was hard to tell just how bad her wounds were. His hat made a makeshift bandage to slow the bleeding, but she needed the wounds cleaned and dressed properly. He took her rifle and lay it on her lap.

She frowned. "Are you going somewhere?"

"To get help. You need to get to the infirmary."

"I will be alright until the dawn. There is still a werewolf out there."

"I know." Nigel swallowed his rising fear and headed for the ladder. "I won't be long."

"Nigel," she called. He stopped with just his head poking up through the hole in the floor. "If you get a chance, you do what it takes to kill that monster. Don't let any worry about me stop you from ending this. I will survive. Now promise me you will whatever it takes?"

He hesitated.

"Nigel, promise me."

"I will do whatever it takes."

She gave him a smile. "Good luck."

He had a feeling he was going to need it