Blood Moon (4 page)

“Please. William, Sonja. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s too dangerous. You have to see sense. The news is filled with reports of Connie’s betrayal, and another incident in Scotland.” Her Uncle’s voice had an edge to it that Sophie hadn’t heard before. “They’re talking about extra security measures at the airports being used. And Connie said she’d sent the authorities a list of families…”

“Dmitri,” her father answered, “I know what you’re saying, but honestly, the best thing we can do is keep our heads down and wait for this to blow over. You, Kasha and Adam are more than welcome to stay here with us if it would make you feel better.”

“Bah, this won’t blow over and you know it. You weren’t there in ‘95. You and Sonja were out hunting Moonstruck when they came for us. Krysztof says that…”

Her mother’s voice cut Dmitri off mid-sentence. “Krysztof says? Since when have you given a shit about what Krysztof says? The man’s a fool. A dangerous fool. From what Kasha told me, he wanted to fight men with tanks and helicopters back in ‘95. In the open, for the world to see. Don’t talk to me about Krysztof. If you do as he says, then you’re as big of an idiot as he is. Krysztof can rot in hell for all I care. Are you so eager to betray Michael?”

“And if they come for you?” her Aunt Kasha replied. “What then? If they come through that door in the middle of the night with machine guns, what will you do?”

Her mother’s voice dropped an octave, into a deep, threatening and unfamiliar tone. “Then I’ll tear their fucking throats out where they stand. I’ll…”

The door burst open, and Sophie looked up into the enraged eyes of her mother. “Sophie, I told you to play in your room with your cousin.”

“But he won’t let me play. He’s shooting zombies on my Xbox and I want to play something else.”

“I don’t care, young lady. You
will
do as you are told. Go to your room.
NOW!
And don’t let me catch you down here again. This doesn’t concern you.”

“But, Mum, he’s horrible. He farted and tried to make me smell it, and he keeps punching my teddy bear. Can I go and play at Karen’s house instead?”

Her mother stood with her hands on her hips, lips pursed. Sophie worried that she’d be sent back upstairs to sit with her stinky cousin, but after a moment, her mother’s posture relaxed. “Alright, but you’re to be back here for dinner at five on the dot. Not a second later or there’ll be hell to pay. Okay?”

Sophie’s face burst into a huge smile and she gave her mother a brief, fierce hug before grabbing her jacket and heading for the front door. “Thanks, Mum. I’ll be back in time for dinner. I promise.” Then, before her mother could change her mind, she ran out of the front door and along the street to Karen’s house.

A freezing wind whipped along the street as Sophie rapped on Karen’s front door. After a few moments, Karen’s mother answered the door with a smile. “Come on in, Sophie, before you catch your death of cold. Karen’s upstairs in her room. Would you like a drink of anything?”

Sophie smiled. “No thank you, Mrs Davies.” Then she removed her shoes and scampered up the stairs to Karen’s room. She pushed open the door to absolute carnage. Karen’s room was normally spotless, with dolls and stuffed toys neatly arranged on her bed. Now the toys were in disarray. One doll’s head and arm were missing, and a cuddly penguin had its stuffing pulled out through a ragged tear on its stomach. Karen sat on the floor holding a naked Barbie that seemed to have strands of Karen’s hair stuck all over it with PVA glue. Puzzled, Sophie gave a polite cough. “Hey, Karen. What’cha doing?”

Karen smiled at her friend. Her fringe was a ragged mess where she’d cut into it with a pair of craft scissors. “Hiya, Sophie. Malibu Barbie turned into a werewolf, and she’s on a killing spree. Wanna play?”

Sophie closed the door behind her and sat down on the bed. “Werewolves don’t
all
go on killing sprees, you know. Some of them are quite nice.”

Werewolf Barbie ripped another chunk of stuffing out of Mr Pingu. “Yeah, they do. That’s what the man said on the news. Who made you the expert on werewolves all of a sudden, anyway?”

Sophie grinned. “I know
loads
about werewolves. More than some stupid fat bloke on the news. Sit down and I’ll tell you, and later I might even show you something cool.”

***

It was dark as Sophie hurried along the street to her home. Spider-fingers of frost had begun to form on the windscreens of the parked cars, and Christmas lights twinkled from every window. She couldn’t wait. Only a few more days to go until Santa came, although the missing presents from Uncle Dmitri and Auntie Kasha still bothered her. Perhaps they would be under the tree when she got back. She stuffed her mitten-clad hands into her pockets and made her way along the street, careful not to slip on the newly formed patches of ice that covered the pavement.

As she got closer to her house, she saw Uncle Dmitri, Aunt Kasha and Adam coming out of her front door. Uncle Dmitri wasn’t wearing his false leg, and he negotiated the slippery driveway on his crutches while Aunt Kasha bundled a complaining Adam into the rear seat of their car. That was strange. She thought they’d be staying for dinner. At least she’d get her Xbox back and wouldn’t have Adam stinking her room up anymore.

Her parents stood at the doorway, grim expressions on their faces. Dmitri reached the passenger side door of the car and turned to them. “I wish you’d reconsider. It’s not too late. We can go online, book your flights and you can come with us.”

Her father shook his head. “We’ve made up our minds, Dmitri. We think its better that we stay where we are. Please be careful, and phone us when you get to Salzburg so we know you got there okay.”

Dmitri nodded. Kasha hugged both her father and mother, then, spotting Sophie on the road, hurried over and held her tight. “Be safe, little one. We love you,” she whispered. Then she got into the driver’s seat and closed the car door.

Sophie stood next to her mother and father, watching as the car started, backed out of the driveway and drove away. They stayed until after the car had disappeared around the corner of their cul-de-sac. Her mother had tears in her eyes. Sophie gripped her mother’s hand, looked up to her and said, “Did Uncle Dmitri and Auntie Kasha remember to leave my Christmas presents?”

22nd December 2008. Exeter Airport, Devon. 17:58

Dmitri gazed out of the car windscreen and sighed. Banks of freezing fog had begun to drift in from the moors, billowing beneath the glare of the security lights. Ice crystals glimmered on the other parked cars like diamond dust, and the grass verges were already white with frost. He turned to Kasha, whose beautiful face had creased into a harsh mask of worry. He forced a smile and squeezed her knee. “Don’t worry, Kasha. Yes, they have security in the big airports, but you know what this country is like. They could not have gotten around to the smaller places like this in such a short time.” As he said the words, Dmitri was only too aware that he was trying to convince himself as much as his wife.

Adam shifted in his seat, a sour expression on his face. “I don’t want to go away. It’s a week before Christmas. And I don’t know why you made me leave my things behind, either. I’ve hardly got any clothes and I’ve got nothing to do. I’m bored already.”

Dmitri’s head snapped round. “Listen to me, Adam. The things that have happened in the last week have put us all in danger. You’ve had a soft, easy life up until now. That life is over. It’s time for you to become a man.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. When you were a boy you and mum lived in a log cabin, with no electricity, no phone, and no internet. You ate what you grew yourself or what you killed. Am I missing anything?”

Dmitri struck Adam across the face, leaving a red palm print on his son’s cheek. Adam recoiled in shock, his mouth hanging open and his eyes welling up with tears. Dmitri felt a swell of shame for striking his son, but realised he still hadn’t got the message through. He grabbed Adam by the front of his shirt and pulled him close, until they were almost nose to nose. “You listen, boy, and you listen well. We are not fleeing this country because we want to. We are leaving because once they tighten the noose, there will be nowhere to hide. On mainland Europe, we can go anywhere, cross borders undetected, live in the forests if need be. This is hard enough on us all without your selfish whining. Now, pull yourself together, hold your tongue and try to pretend we are going on a family skiing holiday.”

Adam looked at his feet and nodded. “I’m sorry. I know this is serious, and I won’t let you down. I’ll do as you say.”

Satisfied with his son’s response, he turned in his seat until he faced his wife. “Are you ready?”

Kasha took a deep breath and exhaled a plume of warm vapour into the cold night air. She managed to force a wan smile. “Yes. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this. Adam, get the cases out of the boot while I help your father.”

She got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, allowing Dmitri to steady himself against her as he tried to get his crutches in place. “I wish you’d reconsider wearing your leg.”

“You know I can’t. If things go badly and we need to turn, then I can’t do anything with that damned false leg flapping around behind me. It will just get in the way.”

“Then let us hope that everything goes to plan.”

They left the car behind them. Adam carried his own luggage over his shoulders in a rucksack and pulled Dmitri’s case behind him as they left the car park. The main terminal lay a few hundred yards along the road, although the fog obscured their view of the building. They made their way along the footpath towards the glowing lights, taking care not to slip on the icy pavement.

As they approached the terminal, Dmitri paused, beckoning Kasha and Adam close. “If I’m wrong and they’ve installed the security systems here, remember that they work on body temperature. Push your wolves down as far as you can. We can’t risk setting them off. Understand?”

Kasha and Adam nodded, then turned back towards the large glass entrance to the main terminal and walked inside.

The rush of warm air was a sharp contrast to the frigid temperatures outside, and Dmitri already felt a few pinpricks of sweat break out on his forehead. He balanced himself on a single crutch while he struggled out of his heavy winter coat, while Kasha and Adam did the same. Then they joined the check-in queue behind a group of young men carrying skis and snowboards.

The line seemed to take forever, and Dmitri couldn’t help but glance around the rest of the terminal building as he waited, looking for potential threats and escape routes. Old habits die hard, and even though he’d not been on a field team for almost twenty years, the training persisted. He noticed Kasha doing the same thing. Not that the threats were hard to find. Armed police officers brandishing submachine guns stood along the concourse, casting their eyes over the crowded check-in area. He counted three. No doubt there would be more by the security station and customs. The realisation that it was too late to back out struck him. It would arouse too much suspicion if they were to turn around and leave now. They were committed. No choice but to go through with the plan and hope for the best.

The check-in went smoothly, and he even managed to smile at the girl behind the desk when she asked if he’d packed his bags himself. Most of his luggage was filled with survival equipment, false passports from a number of different countries and several thousand Euros in cash. Kasha’s and Adam’s bags contained similar items. Clothes they could buy or steal anywhere. They’d packed what was important. Things that would help them survive the coming months. Clean clothes and Adam’s portable games console were luxuries they didn’t need.

Once they’d checked in their bags, they headed for the escalators to the air-side facilities. Dmitri could feel his hands sweating, slipping against the hard plastic handles of his crutches. He forced down the hard knot of fear forming in his stomach and wiped his hands against his trousers. Only one more obstacle remained. He took a deep breath, gave Kasha and Adam what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and then made his way towards the security station.

The airport was busier than he’d anticipated, filled mostly with young people on their way to skiing holidays. The group that had been ahead of them at the check-in desk were in front of them now, laughing and filming each other with their telephones. There were not many flights out of Exeter at this time of the night, and Dmitri groaned as he realised that they would probably have to share a plane with the loudmouthed youths. The stench of alcohol billowed from them like a cloud. Several of them appeared well on their way to being drunk already, and one was clearly suffering from the beginnings of a nasty case of influenza. Dmitri could smell the sickness on him beneath the stink of cheap whiskey.

The line wound its way along rows of fabric cordons, ending at a number of metal detectors and x-ray machines. Behind each gate stood another armed policeman. Dmitri wondered if those guns held silver bullets, then forced the idea away. It was too late to worry about such things, and the last thing they needed to do was look nervous as they passed through the barrier. Nothing appeared different from the last time he’d flown, so it was likely that the countermeasures had not yet been installed in this small, insignificant airport. There was nothing to worry about. Once they made it past the security check, they would be able to relax in one of the bars, have a drink and wait for their flight.

The group of young men reached the barriers and began emptying their pockets into black plastic trays that fed into the x-ray machines via conveyor belts. One of them tripped the alarm and was quickly searched by a security guard who’d been standing off to the side, while the armed police officer stood by, watching them closely. One by one they passed through. Dmitri and his family would be next, after the sick one made it through.

The sick one. The one who burned with the beginnings of a fever.