Wolf House (Potter's Story) by Tim O'Rourke Read Free Book Online Page B

bat and came from a world that existed beneath hers?
    “I love you!” I said.
    Peering back at me over the top of the sheet, I could see the fear, revulsion, and hatred for me in her eyes. “Get away from me!” she screamed, kicking out with her feet again. “You freak – you animal! Get out!”
    “I love -” I begged.
    “GET OUT!”
    Jumping from the bed, where only moments before we had been making love, I went to the windows. Throwing them open, I climbed onto the ledge. I looked at her, two perfect blue eyes staring back at me, and to see such fear in them broke my heart.
    “I’m so sorry,” I growled.
    Leaping from the window, I spread my wings and shot into the night sky. I didn’t look back, not once. It would have hurt too much to do so.
    The night was cloudless and cold, but the strong wind did nothing to dry the…
     
    …tears that ran down my face. Sitting bolt upright, I brushed them away with the back of my hand. Cursing myself for falling asleep, I peered into the darkness and my heart almost stopped. Propped in that chair just feet away from me was a dead little boy.

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    He sat upright, his tiny frame dressed in blue and white striped pyjamas. He was no older than seven with white-blonde hair that fell across his pale brow. His eyes were closed and he strangely looked at peace, as if asleep. Perhaps he wasn’t dead? Maybe he was just sleeping, some sick trick played on me by this killer. Leaping from the armchair, I went to the boy. Taking hold of his shoulder in my hand, I gently tried to shake him awake. The boy fell forward into my arms and I could feel his cold body against me. Then, there came two noises in quick succession: One was the sound of something rolling across the floor beside me. Glancing down, I could see that a marble had fallen from the little boy’s dead hand and was now rolling away across the wooden floor. The second noise was the sound of crying – but it wasn’t the child in my arms who made it. I’d heard that sound before. Glancing around, I could see the front door slowly closing on its rusty hinges.
    Realising that it was the wolf making its escape, I swooped the little boy up into my arms, gently laid him on the sofa, and raced towards the door. I yanked it open and just caught sight of a silver, bushy tail disappearing into the darkness set amongst the trees. Tearing my coat free, I ran across the front garden and down the overgrown path towards the woods. The full moon was sinking low in the sky, and it looked mouldy-yellow, like cheese that had started to go bad.
    Even before I’d reached the tree line, with my coat laying somewhere behind me, my claws were working like pistons beside me, my wings pointed upwards so as not to slow me down, like two giant sails. Racing into the darkness, I paused and listened. I heard the sound of running ahead of me, so I tore off in that direction. With my legs just a blur below me, I ran as hard and as fast as I could after the wolf. He wasn’t going to get away from me. I couldn’t let him get away.
    Zipping between the trees, I caught sight of something large and silver ahead of me. It howled, the sound of it making the branches in the tree shake. Lowering my head, I propelled myself forward, gaining on the werewolf with every heartbeat. I could see it was huge, like a bear, but sleeker-looking. Its white fur glistened in the shafts of moonlight, which cut through the treetops as I darted towards it.
    Ahead was a fallen tree lying across my path. Diving towards it, I used it in the same way a gymnast would use a springboard, hurling myself through the air at the wolf, which was now only feet away. With claws out and fangs bared, I rocketed towards the retreating wolf. It looked back over its shoulder, and upon seeing me, spun round. Standing on its back legs, it swiped at me with one of its mighty paws. My chest exploded with pain as the wolf clawed at me. I spun backwards through the air under the force of the