Hunting The Alpha Wolf (Dark Paranormal Romance (Erotic Horror, Erotika)) (3 page)

Gary looked nervous,
damn
it
Sara thought,
I don't want to scare him off, poor boy.

"Anyway," she
said, "down to business?"

"Now?" Gary
said, looking unsure, but smiling.

"Not that sort of
business matey boy," she said grinning. "Your lucks not that good,
not yet anyway. No I mean the story I came all this way for, what can you tell
me?"

Gary leaned forwards
and explained to her that he worked on a farm which bordered on to the grounds
of a huge local estate. An estate which was owned by one of the country’s
oldest and longest standing families.

They had for years been
part of the local foxhunting set. They had given and attended hunt balls, been
publicly against the hunting ban and had been integral in the local community.
When fox hunting had been banned they had taken to riding across the
countryside, chasing scent trails dragged by horses. It was clear that had not
enjoyed that half as much.

Then he said that about
three months ago, things had changed. The estate walls had been lined with
razor wire. The gates were changed to thick steel and were permanently locked.
Then a large  number of new, people, not locals, Gary had stressed, had started
arriving at weekends and at odd days of the week.

"Then," he
said, Sara was leaning forwards to catch every word, Gary was speaking quietly
so as not to attract attention from the people around the bar. "I heard
strange noises, weird animal noises from within the grounds. Horses, dogs and
sounds that seemed to be foxes, in pain. You know how a fox can sound when its
scared, almost like a child screaming, it was like that."

"Recently?"

"Every weekend for
the last six, and its at odd times, like now for example," he said.
"You don’t hunt foxes in winter, not really, nor do you do it at night.
They are usually too busy being holed up in their sets in winter, they don’t
cause any problems in winter."

"So what are they
hunting?"

"I don’t
know," he said, "but I think they have foxes on the grounds and hunt
them there. Possibly other things too, but I am not sure. It's private
property, and no one can even see in, so they are safe to do it, at least they
think so."

"Ok, so a wealthy
landowner secures his property and hunts foxes, or whatever, on it. He invites
the great and the good to share his little hobby." Sara was excited, this
was just the sort of story that she knew the magazine would lap up, her luck
was definitely turning. "It’s a good story, but do you have any
proof?"

"No," Gary
said, "but we can get some if you like."

"How?" she
asked.

"Well something is
going on tonight," he said. "I was working on one of the fences and a
convoy of Range Rovers and limos streamed past, right in through the main gate.
I would say that whatever they are doing they are doing tonight."

He sipped his pint,
"It's a good night for it, being a full moon I suppose."

"Were you
expecting company?" Gary asked as he slid into the passenger seat of her
car, looking over his shoulder at the backseat folded down and the sleeping bag
and blankets laid out across the boot.

"Do you
think?" she replied. "I’m not sure what sort of company would be
impressed by the back seat of my car. Except maybe for a hibernating badger or
perhaps a very un fussy tramp."

She put the key in,
waited for the lights to go out, and started the engine. As always the car
started first time. The throaty raw of the 2.0 litre diesel engine loud across
the otherwise silent car park. At 10.30 pm the pubs were still to let out and
the weather was keeping most people away from the town.

The car park was empty,
the full moon illuminating it with an almost ghostly glow.

Sara turned the heater
on full, and directed the airflow towards the windscreen. She smiled at Gary as
they waited for the car to warm up. When she thought it was ready she turned
the wipers on which swished across the windscreen with a harsh grinding noise.

"Sorry," she
said, apologising for her car to a man who drove a tractor,
what was she
doing?

"It's better than
my car," he assured her. "My Land-Rover stinks of oil and bounces
long like a clowns car."

Sara grinned, and
pulled slowly off the car park, the tyres made a crushing noise as they pressed
into the snow, leaving fresh tracks behind them.

She pulled around the
back of the pub and joined the main road.  Within minutes they were out of the
town,

"At least we are
in a Volvo," Gary said as Sara navigated slowly along the road, slowing down
for a set of traffic lights which were set on red.

"Because it snows
a lot in Sweden?" Sara asked.

"No," Gary
grinned, "if we run off the road at least we are surrounded by air
bags."

"Don't
worry," Sara said. "I’m a pretty good driver, my dad insisted on me
having loads of lessons."

"Your dad?"

"Yes," Sara
was suddenly self-conscious; she kept her family background secret. "He is
a very careful man, he insisted on lessons, advanced lessons and then even a
pursuit driving course with two ex-police men."

"Wow."

"Wow indeed,"
she turned right at his direction, the roads got steadily worse. At least the
snow had stopped, she thought and with the full moon the night was bright and
clear.

They fell silent as she
concentrated on steering the car around the increasingly poor roads.

The snow was thick and
they were the first car along the road, crushing down the virgin snow beneath the
tyres.

Sara felt confident, in
her experience it was other people on the road that caused the problems. They
tended to panic in the snow, and either drive too fast or too slow. She was
confident that she could keep the car moving through any conditions the English
winter could throw at her.

"Are we nearly
there?" she asked.

"Yes," he
said. "If you look left, carefully to the right," she did,
"that's the wall of estate."

Sara glanced over, the
wall was 8 feet high and she could see glinting in the moonlight rows of what
looked like razor wire across the top.

"Is that razor
wire?' she asked.

"Yes, I think so;
it was put up last year. It’s on every inch of the wall, all 25 miles around
the estate. What’s that?" he leaned over and pointed, momentarily
obscuring her vision. Forced to look, she glanced over; something dark was
hanging on the wire.

She could not see what
it was, but it was the size of a large black dog. She saw it move, one leg
twitched in the light, it sent a shiver down her back.

"Jesus," she
said dragging her eyes away, back on the road. A huge black Range Rover was
bearing down on her. It had cut the corner she was approaching, was traveling
far too fast and holding its position right in the middle of the road.

"Shit," Sara
grunted, pulling the wheel hard to the left. She knew better than to apply the
brake, but still the car started to slide, the back swinging out, pulling the
car wildly off course. Sara corrected, flinging the wheel right and applying a
small amount of power to the accelerator.

The back of the Volvo
pulled in the opposite direction, Sara gunned the engine at just the right time
as the Range rover shot past them, missing them by inches.

"Shit, shit,
shit," she muttered, they had missed the Range Rover, which had not
stopped, but now the car was side on, sliding rapidly across the road.

Try as she might she
could not straighten it out.

At the last moment she
closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.

With a thump the car
went down into a drainage ditch, throwing snow and water over the window,
before it slammed into the estate wall.

All the air bags went
off, and Sara's face slammed into the bag on the steering wall and was thrown
to the side, hitting the curtain that inflated to cover the window.

Gary looked over at
her, he was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, but he was ok. Sara was dazed,
but after a few minutes she stuck her thumbs up at him.

"You were
right," he said, "you really can drive."

"Thanks," she
said, turning the key and killing the engine. Gary forced the door open and
climbed out into the snow. Sara's door was jammed against the wall, and so she
climbed over the handbrake and across his seat. The car was at a steep angle
and it was not easy, she had to push herself off from the handbrake, balancing
on one leg.

Gary held the door open
for her and she slid down the side and jumped down, away from the ditch. It was
damn cold, she felt the wind penetrate  to her bones as she stood up to her
knees in snow.

Sara looked over at the
car, it was dented, but she had not been traveling too fast. With any luck it
would still run, but there was no way that she would be able to pull it out of
the ditch.

"Damn," she
said, stretching her neck, and tweaking her back, her muscles popped in
objection.

"I can pull you
off in the morning." Gary said.

"Pull me out, you
mean," Sara said,
Freudian slip or what.

"Sorry, yes, pull
you out, my farm is about a mile from here. We can slap a towrope on it in the
morning, have you out in a jiffy. You have the key?"

"Yes, but I’m not
letting this stop me," she looked at the wall. "How were you planning
on getting over the wall?"

"There's a tree
growing over it, about half a mile down the road from here. There was a massive
lightning storm last week, and one of the branches has fallen over, it's draped
over the razor wire. I tried it last week, it’s pretty easy to climb over. And
I left a stepladder out of sight, to make it even easier."

"Ok," Sara
said, "I just need to get something from the boot." She walked around
to the back of the car, and unlocked the boot.

"Give me a hand
up," she said, and Gary lowered his hands and she stepped into them and he
boosted her up to the boot. He was far stronger than he looked, she realised.

Scrambling around in
the upturned detritus she grabbed her camera case, and let herself drop out of
the car. Sara stumbled slightly and Gary grabbed her around the waist.

He held her just longer
than was absolutely necessary, his hands cupping her waist.
I can't blame
him,
she thought,
still, he is a bit young for me.

Slinging the camera bag
over her shoulder she looked at him and said, "Lead on Macduff."

Twenty minutes later
they were at the tree. Gary was right, and with the aid of the stepladder it
was an easy climb. He made Sara go first, she was very aware of his eyes on her
bottom as she climbed the tree; she even succumbed to giving him a little
wiggle as she reached the branch. She pretended that it was just part of her
climbing, but she knew that he noticed it.

She grinned as he
joined her at the branch junction.

It looked like
lightning had stuck the tree and split it, the wood was black and charred. As a
result a huge branch had fallen over the wall.

It easily cleared the
razor wire and was resting on the ground below. Sara looked at Gary and raised
her fingers to her lips, he leaned forwards and she whispered in his ear.

"You can wait here
if you want, no point both of us trespassing."

Gary looked hurt,
"No way," he said, "you might need my help."

"O.k. then,"
she said, and impulsively gave him a kiss on the lips, it just a quick peck,
but the momentary warmth was lovely.

"For luck,"
she said and grinned at him. She noticed that he tasted slightly of cigarettes,
damn, she thought, one mark against him; I never enjoy kissing a smoker.

Oh well, she thought
and clambered down the branch. There was only one time she was worried, when
she was directly over the razor wire. One slip and she would have got a nasty
injury. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the idea that razor wire was
illegal on private properties, even if it wasn’t it was definitely well over
the top for protecting a county pile.

She made it the rest of
the way down and waited for Gary who joined her quickly and surefootedly. They
were at the edge of a forest, it was dark, despite the full moon shinning down.
Still with the white glistening snow and the white icy fingers of the frozen
branches it was still magical.

If it hadn’t been for
the razor wire and high wall behind her, this could have been Narnia, still,
she thought, if we come across a London street lamp then I will start to worry.

Gary touched her
shoulder and pointed, before starting to make his way through the forest. Sara
noticed how carefully he moved, putting his feet down slowly, and avoiding
brushing against the trees or treading on fallen branches. Unused to the forest
as she was, more at home on Carnaby Street, Sara struggled to move as silently.