12: The Chase
“Hell’s teeth!” Moody’s quiet exclamation in accompaniment to the now-too familiar thwack of bramble against skin made Rey grin in spite of himself. “They couldn’t have holed up in a nice suburb somewhere?”
“We should probably be thankful they didn’t.” The low voice that responded from Moody’s other side belonged to Orestes Bevan, a tall, irritatingly good-looking young Auror in his late twenties with whom Rey had often worked before; the two fathers had spent several enjoyable hours in the farmhouse exchanging toddler horror stories earlier in the evening. His startlingly blond hair was dishevelled now, and a large scratch across his face implied that in spite of his words, he was not enjoying the terrain any more than his more senior partner.
“You could have taken a broomstick,” Rey inserted diffidently, gingerly pushing back a wall of thorns with his mercifully gloved palm. “Greenwood did offer…”
“Broomstick!” Moody snorted disdainfully. “Do you see the ferals sprouting wings? No. I’m not going to hide on some floating twig. I’m staying where the action is!”
Bevan grinned. “Then I think you’ll have to forgo your right to complain, Alastor.”
Moody made a disdainful sound. “Bugger that!” He said with feeling. “A man’s right to complain is a civic necessity!”
“I still don’t see why we couldn’t just have apparated.” The slightly sulky baritone belonged to the hulking form of Rudolf Bolt, who was following a few steps behind and grasping a Muggle handgun and a wicked-looking crossbow almost possessively.
Moody paused, wearily rolling his eyes. “For the fifteenth time, Bolt, apparation is noisy and disorientating and ferals are bloody quick off the mark. We want to catch them by surprise not the other way around. I thought you were supposed to be an expert.” He glanced at the gun. “And don’t go firing that blasted thing off around my men! I wouldn’t trust you to hit the broad side of a Norwegian Ridgeback!”
Vaguely aware that he’d been insulted, Bolt hunched his shoulders and glared. Moody sighed substantially and resumed his battle with undergrowth.
“Talking of noisy,” Rey dropped his voice to a whisper. “We need to be careful and keep it down. Ferals have annoyingly good hearing and we can’t be far from this ruin of Greenwood’s.”
Moody nodded curtly and glanced at Bevan. The younger man nodded in response and raised his hand over his head in a series of sharp gestures. Other hands appeared in the undergrowth around them as the message was passed along to the surrounding teams.
“What about my men?” Bolt’s voice was a petulant and carrying hiss as he fiddled loudly with the catch on his handgun.
Moody looked a few steps away from murder and the look on Bevan’s face implied he would quite happily give him an alibi. “My team will pass the call for silence on,” he breathed sharply and almost soundlessly but with astonishing restraint. “That’s why we assigned mixed teams in the first place. Now if you don’t shut your bloody mouth and stop fiddling that Muggle piece of troll-dung, all those ferals will find of you is an interesting stain on the grass and a very unpleasant smell. Okay?”
Rey bit his lip to prevent a highly inappropriate chuckle at the look on Bolt’s face. The Werewolf Capture Unit, frequent destination of those without the grades or brains to be Aurors, was yet again living up to its reputation. If it weren’t for the fact that this case fell nominally under their jurisdiction, Rey would have happily seen them left at home. No wonder the likes of Isaacs and these ferals could get away with murder with these prize idiots as their adversaries. And Bolt was one of the bright ones….
The team now moved in silence, easing their way through the painful undergrowth with care, avoiding the snap of twigs and casting silencing spells under their breath on the clutter of leaf litter before them. The wind whispered through the loosened riot of autumn leaves leeched black by night-time’s falling, the already cold air chilling their sweat soaked backs and casting their breath as mist that they were hastily forced to regulate. The jarring alarm call of a Tawny owl rose in the trees above them.
Ahead, the trees and bushes were thinning out as the slender valley drew to a head within the enclosing crescent embrace of the hillside. A narrow gorge cut sharply into the rock a few hundred yards ahead, spilling a pale moonstruck waterfall into a round, gleaming pool. To one side of the sparkling water, the battered stone-heaped roofless remains of an old cottage lay darkened and unmoving. Were it not for the difficult approach and the danger that lurked within, the spot would have been a paradise. But for the cry of the owl and rush of the wind, all was silent.
If the ferals truly were within the ruins as Greenwood had said then the capture team spread out across the slender approach had them cornered.
Reynard glanced at Moody “ the older man was staring at the darkened scene with narrowed eyes.
“I don’t like this.” The Auror’s words were all but inaudible but muttered with sincerity. “Something’s wrong.”
Rey felt inclined to agree. His instincts were screaming at him, roaring as loudly as they could that something was desperately amiss.
The Tawny owl’s screeching echoed overhead once more. The wind gusted and shivered down his back as he clutched his wand.
His back.
The wind was at his back.
They had approached upwind.
And ferals had a werewolf’s sense of smell.
The Tawny’s screeching rebounded off his own sudden sense of overwhelming stupidity. The owl was afraid of something.
He looked up into the tangled branches. And saw the shadow as it dropped.
“Look out!”
His warning saved Moody’s life. The slash of claws missed his throat as the Auror dived instinctively aside, ripping instead into his soft flesh of his ear. Alastor bellowed with pain as he stumbled back but the fact that he still had enough windpipe to do so was a stark reminder it could have been worse. Bolt charged into the fray with a cry, discharging his gun on impulse “ Bevan, who had just taken aim with his wand, was forced to duck out of the bullet’s path with a furious cry of frustration. Rey, knocked backwards by Moody’s dive to safety, caught a glimpse of a lithe figure, a flash of wild blonde hair and golden eyes before it hurled itself at Bolt with a screeching cry. The professional werewolf hunter stumbled back, dropping his weapons and clutching his face with a scream as claws raked down his skin; Bevan was back on his feet, a curse on his lips but the shadowed feral saw the danger and darted sharply back into the darkness, leaving only an echo of cold laughter.
Even as the four men froze, stunned, to catch their breath, Bolt on the ground and gasping in pain and Moody grasping his ear with a furious expression over the fact that the ferals had literally got the drop on them, the undergrowth to their right crashed apart as the nearest teams rushed to their aid. To their left, screams and bellows and the roar of spells told that both ferals had attacked simultaneously.
Ignoring the blood that now poured down the side of his face, Moody snapped back into action.
“Bevan!” he ordered sharply. “Take Team two after that bloody thing! Team three, you’re with me, we’re going to help the others. Lupin.” He forestalled Rey’s motion to follow with one hand. “You stay here with Bolt. No arguments.” His sharp gaze cut off the protest on the younger man’s lips. “You’re a damn fine exterminator but this is out of your league; Diana would never forgive me for making her a widow and neither would your lad. Keep your head down and watch your back. The rest of you, move!”
In a thunder of footsteps and crashing branches, they were gone. Rey and the still writhing Bolt were alone.
The worst of it was he could hear the battles, the tearing of undergrowth, the swearing, the screamed out spells and the desperate cries of pain. He could hear the echoing laughter, the shrieking howls of the two ferals as they attacked first to his left, then to his right, ahead, behind, all around him. He would catch glimpses of the Aurors and the hunters darting between the trees, occasionally charging through the small glade in which Bolt had fallen with barely a glance in their direction. He had never felt so helpless in his life. It was only Moody’s blunt words and the thought of Remus and Diana left alone that prevented him from charging to their aid.
He turned instead to Rudolf Bolt. The hunter’s whimpering appeared to be justified “ his face and chest were a scratched up mess and Rey didn’t fancy the chances of his left eye ever again being much use. He cleaned the man up as best he could, muttering a few basic healing charms that were compulsory in his line of work, but the groans and moans were starting to grate on his nerves. He was shamefully grateful when the WCU leader dropped unconscious.
A change in volume of the distant battle made him pause. Were those footsteps coming closer?
A scream pierced the air, shockingly close by “ even as Rey darted to his feet, his wand clasped firmly in one hand, the shape of Arton, one of Bolt’s men came flying backwards out of the shadows just yards from where he crouched, arms flailing as he catapulted into a tree with shocking force and slumped into a bloody heap on the ground.
A pair of golden eyes glinted in the shadows. They fixed upon him, glowing like burning embers.
Oh Sweet Merlin. He was in trouble.
“Stupif…”
Too slow. A dark shape barrelled into him with a force that sent his wand flying and shot arrows of pain through his ribs and chest; his heels caught on the recumbent form of Bolt as he tumbled over backwards, crashing into the tangled leaf litter as the feral’s momentum sent him rolling overhead. He managed one solid kick to the chest of his attacker before the weight of this wolf in human shape slammed him back into the ground, straddling him as clawed fingers splayed above his face with intent to rip his eyes out.
And then paused.
It was the male, Kane, who had pounced him; his hair wild, his cheek scratched and bloodied, his weathered solid face far too old for his age. But it was his golden eyes that seemed to pin Rey down, narrowing sharply as they drank in his features then widening with sudden astonishment.
“You!” he hissed.
Rey had no time to ponder this hate-filled exclamation from a stranger. With all the force he could muster, he brought his knee up.
The instant of shocked pain on the feral’s face was distraction enough. Rey’s hand closed on Bolt’s fallen crossbow.
He didn’t bother to aim it. He simply swung the hefty weapon with all of his might into the side of Abraham Kane’s head. Kane crashed to the ground with a strangled cry as Rey scrambled clear of his grasp, wielding the crossbow like a club as he groped for his dropped wand. The feral’s furious eyes burned into him as he flipped to his feet, blood streaming from his temple and staining his face with darkness.
“They’re going to be finding pieces of you in Tibet, Lupin!” he snarled viciously.
Rey didn’t doubt it, his eyes wide and unashamedly terrified as the feral bared his teeth and charged. Oh Merlin, what would happen to Diana, to Remus? Wand, wand, where the hell was his wand…
“Impedimenta!”
With shocking force, Kane was flung to the ground, struggling and snarling against the force of the spell that had entangled him in invisible bonds. The tousled blond form of Orestes Bevan surged out of the trees.
“Bloody hellfire!” The Auror exclaimed, panting heavily. “That was close…”
Chaos erupted in the trees at Bevan’s back, cutting off his sentence at a strike.
“Bevan!” The bellow was Alastor Moody’s. “Behind you!”
It was too late. A blonde fury hurled herself spitting and screaming out of the trees, slamming into Bevan’s shocked and half-turned form as her claws ripped the skin from his arm. With astonishing composure considering the writhing ball of rage that had just latched herself to his chest, Bevan rolled backwards with the impact, grasping his attacker’s arms as he flung her over his head and away. Ducking out of her flight path as she hurtled into the undergrowth with an infuriated scream, Rey tumbled upon his elusive wand but before he could bring it to bear, the feral Hel was on her feet once more and diving for the still half-prone form of Bevan.
Rey didn’t think. He simply acted.
His hand closed around her ankle as he pulled with all his strength.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Half-distracted, off-balance, Hel did not have time to dodge. The green light of Bevan’s spell struck her squarely and threw her lifeless to the ground.
“Hel!”
With a shocking wrench fuelled by grief, Abraham Kane broke free of the fading spell that had bound his limbs. For an instant his fire-like eyes swept the tiny glade, drinking in the dead form of his companion, the motionless shapes of Bolt and Arton, Orestes Bevan still half-lain in leaf litter his wand extended before him from the spell that had sapped the feral female’s life, and Reynard Lupin, crouched, wand caught loosely in one hand, the other hovering over the now deceased form of the woman he had successfully distracted to her death.
And then with a furious snarl, he was gone.
Rey met Bevan’s eyes. Both were gasping for breath.
And then with a thunderous crash, Alastor Moody and the rag tag bloodied remains of his four teams hurtled into the glade.
“Which way?” The senior Auror roared. “Where?”
“There!” Bevan pointed with his wand, gritting his teeth against the pain in his blood-streaked arm as he tried to rise.
Moody nodded sharply as he gestured to those members of his party still undamaged enough to run. “Bevan, Lupin, you’re in no fit state. Send up sparks to Greenwood to sort this mess out and get yourselves back to HQ. The rest of you with me!” His gaze lingered momentarily on the lifeless form of Hel. “At least we got one of the bastards.”
And then, limping heavily and still streaming blood from his ear, Moody vanished after his men.
A heavy silence descended over the glade. The sounds of pursuit faded down the defile to be swallowed by the night.
Bruised and aching, Rey forced himself wearily to his feet and stumbled over to where Bevan was crouched, cradling his savaged arm with a grimace. He smiled at the attaché’s approach.
“Good work there, Lupin,” he said, still gripping his wand painfully as he allowed Rey to steady his shoulders as he helped pull him to his feet. “Quick thinking. Thanks.”
Rey smiled unsteadily as he took the blond Auror’s weight. “You saved my life. It seemed only fair to repay the favour.”
Bevan grinned at that. Wincing slightly, he shifted his wand to his good hand and raised it over his head. Red sparks exploded in the air above them.
“There,” he said quietly. “That should get our flying squad’s attention.”
Rey stared at the spray of sparks as they scattered and died against the dark roof of the sky. His entire body ached with the residue of his fight with Kane, his mind still half-reeling from the feral’s strange recognition of him as he supported his bleeding colleague and awaited rescue. A thought struck him. “Bevan.”
“Yeah Lupin?”
“Do me a favour?”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“If I ever take a case with you again because I say I’m bored with Grindylow catching, please slap me across the head and tell me not to be so stupid.”
Bevan’s grin widened in spite of the pain in his features. “Will do, Lupin. Will do.”
* * *
Dawn had broken, the low glow of sunrise staining the eastern horizon before Moody and his weary band trudged back to the derelict farmhouse. One look at their disconsolate faces told Reynard that Kane had not been caught.
“Tricky git, that Kane.” Moody’s words were almost a snarl as he settled down reluctantly beside the mission Healer to allow his mangled and unmistakably beyond repair ear to be tended to. “Caught young Dawlish a right wallop “ knew I shouldn’t have brought that kid straight out of training but he was so keen to come.” He sighed.
“He gave us the slip in the woods about an hour ago. I sent Greenwood and the surveillance boys to see if they can pick up his trail but I don’t fancy their chances. He’ll be long gone. And he wasn’t happy either. Raved about us killing his mate whenever we got within ten yards. Kept going on about vengeance.”
Rey took a seat beside him, wincing at his bruised ribs; Bevan, his torn arm now in a sling, rested his free hand against the back of his chair and leaned forward.
“So what now?” The younger Auror asked the question that burned in the air between them. “We lost Arton and Burley. Bolt’s out for the count. All bar two members of the ground teams are sporting some manner of serious injury. We brought down Hel but there’s no sign of Kane. Do we keep looking or…”
“No.” Moody cut the sentence off. “We’re in no fit state for this. We need to regroup.”
“Agreed.” Bevan was nodding his head at once. “New intelligence, a new plan. And this time we go in better prepared.”
“And not upwind.” Reynard saw no point in covering his own mistake. When the two Aurors regarded him quizzically he added, “The wind was blowing straight up that defile. They must have smelled us. I should have realised sooner, I’m sorry.”
Moody waved a dismissive hand. “It wasn’t as though we could have approached them from any other direction. Not your fault, Rey; we’ll know next time. And you two got one of them. You’ll likely be getting commendations from the Ministry for that.”
Rey and Bevan exchanged glances of mild horror. “Do we have to?” Rey exclaimed.
Moody laughed out loud, only to be scolded by the Healer for moving. He scowled at her before turning back to his friends. “Don’t fancy being kissed by the Minister’s wife at the presentation, eh?”
“It’s the warts.” Bevan’s tone was a shudder. “But the halitosis alone is enough…”
“Ah, the price of success.” Moody grinned. “Serves you right for doing your jobs properly.”
There was an exchange of rueful smiles.
“Well, if that’s all for now.” Reynard rose creakily to his feet. “I’d probably best be off. Diana is going to take Remus up to Hogwarts again today for the annual spoiling of our son by her former pupils. I promised her I’d let her know if I was alive or dead before she left. She does like to know, for some reason.”
Bevan nodded. “I think my Elise would appreciate the same favour, especially since it’s only a couple of miles walk home for me from here. I don’t like to worry her too often “ that couch is damned uncomfortable.”
Moody laughed again. “That would be why I’m still a bachelor. Go home, gentlemen. Get some rest. We’ll reconvene in two days at the Ministry. Hopefully we’ll have picked up Kane’s trail by then.”
Reynard nodded to the two Aurors as he turned and made his way towards the door.
“Oh! Lupin?”
It was Bevan calling; Rey glanced back over his shoulder at the tall blond. “Yes?”
Bevan was regarding him quizzically. “I meant to ask “ how did Kane know your name?”
Rey blinked. “Pardon?”
“In the glade,” Bevan persisted. “As I was running in to help you. Kane called you Lupin. How did he know that was your name?”
Rey stared in blank disbelief, his mouth working furiously as he tried to gather his tired and weary thoughts. He had acknowledged Kane’s odd hesitation and apparent recognition of him but this shocking familiarity had managed to escape his notice.
“I…” he stammered, facing the two Aurors with an expression of bewilderment. “I don’t know.”
Bevan and Moody exchanged uncertain glances. “Have you met him before?” Alastor asked sharply.
Rey struggled to engage his brain but after the long night in the woods, it really wasn’t in the mood to be woken. “Not that I know of,” he admitted. “As far as I know, I’ve never seen Abraham Kane before in my life. I have no idea why he’d know me.”
Bevan was frowning. “Could you have run across him before in your work?”
Rey exchanged a look with Moody. “I don’t work werewolf cases often. Unless I knew him before he was bitten, I don’t see how I could have.”
Moody regarded him thoughtfully. “What about these werewolf issues you mentioned? Could it be related to that?”
Rey grimaced. “The werewolf I had issues with is long dead. I can’t see how this would be related to him killing my sister.”
Both Bevan and Moody winced sharply. Moody swallowed hard at this abrupt revelation. “Here,” he said suddenly, holding out a round, blue disk that Rey accepted with bemusement. “It’s an emergency beacon. You get in trouble, you press in the middle from both sides and the one I keep on me will tell me you’re in trouble.”
Rey felt a cold chill as he tucked the little disk into the inside pocket of his cloak. “You think I’ll need this?”
Moody’s expression was grim. “We need to be constantly vigilant in this game. I’m not risking it. If Kane has you picked out somehow, for whatever reason, I don’t want to be called to your house sometime to identify your corpse. Send Diana and the kiddie up to stay with her folks for a bit, get them out of the way. There’s no point in risking innocents.”
The chill was spreading like icy fingers across his heart at the prospect of harm coming to his beloved wife and precious son. “I’ll speak to her tonight when she gets back, have them packed off tomorrow morning. Remus likes the farm and I’m sure Diana’ll understand.”
Moody nodded. “Good man. Don’t look so worried, Rey, it might be nothing. But better safe than sorry, eh?”
Rey nodded, trying to ignore the ice that threatened to paralyse him. “Better safe than sorry.”
He did not say what he was thinking, did not admit the fear that had plunged his heart so violently as the truth of his predicament sunk in. He did not confess to the hovering vision of Kane’s face lingering over him. Because to do so would have been to admit that the danger to himself and his family might be real.
But that did not change one simple dread, one horrible suspicion that he was unable to shake. He did not know why. He did not know from where. But he pictured the feral’s face and he felt it.
Abraham Kane was as familiar to him as he had seemed to Kane.
The question now was why.