Wolfsbane

By ANDREW GUNN

Things get strange when the full moon comes out...

William Jones thinks his life is a living hell now that hes moving to backwater Minden, Ontario a small little town community in Canada. His mother; broken hearted from her divorce and his father a complete and total ass for cheating. He doesnt think anything else could possibly go wrong...until he meets a mysterious girl named Sarah and her friends. At first he plays off the abnormalities as just him being paranoid but soon events transpire that drags him into a nightmarish world he never knew existed. Its a race against a psychotic being who wants nothing more than to kill Sarah. But how do you kill something thats faster, stronger and more intelligent than you?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491835821

ANDREW GUNN

A new author, Andrew Gunn has written only one book, Wolfsbane. Born in Scarborough, Ontario and raised in Whitby Ontario he is very close with his family and always puts them first and foremost. He enjoys writing and video games in his spare time and is an avid coffee drinker.

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© 2013 ANDREW GUNN. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/06/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-3583-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-3581-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-3582-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013921072

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

About The Author

Dedicated in loving remembrance of Marilyn Young. My Grandma.

I’d like to thank my friends and editors Rita and Amanda. Without their help, and their incredible amount of patience this would not have been possible. Thanks for listening to my constant rambling and reading this book again and again and again… !

I’d also like to thank my best friend and second mother Deirdre. Thank you for keeping me confident and always believing I could when I thought I couldn’t.

Thank you ever so much to Stephanie who created and colored the beautiful work of art seen on the front of this book.

Lastly I’d like to thank all my other friends and family who supported me. This is for all of you.

PROLOGUE

T he warm, August air was moist with humidity, the moisture clinging to the skin and clothing of the two men currently wandering through the forest trail. Crickets could be heard chirping their summer song in the evening air as the shrill call of an owl could be heard off in the distance.

Steven Phillips was not the kind of man who believed in fairy tales, superstitions or the supernatural. Ghosts were nothing but figments of the imagination; claims of UFO sightings were nothing more than a simple case of mistaken identity or someone’s idea of a practical joke. Steven lived very much in the here and now. What he did know was that it was uncommon to find such great game wandering around aimlessly and stupidly in the middle of a meadow. Usually the deer were a little more careful and elusive. Normally he had to work to catch his game. Apparently luck was on his side tonight.

He’s a beaut isn’t he? asked his childhood best friend, Connor Nolan. Must have gotten doped up on something to make him act this stupid.

Steven simply raised his gun and took aim at the animal in front of him. Part of him relished the challenge in hunting his prey; this one felt like such a disappointment but the buck was a fine animal and would make an excellent trophy.

A branch snapped behind the hunters and both men whirled around, guns raised to shoot whatever had taken the opportunity to sneak up on them. Whirling around again they found their buck taking off at high speeds into the forest.

Awe God-Damn it! cussed Connor.

Connor went off on a rant while Steven glanced around the area. Something felt… off; felt very wrong. The crickets who, moments ago, had been chirping had fallen silent. The forest was to quiet. Eerie.

Let’s get out of here Connor. We can just follow the tracks and see if we can get a second chance at it, he stated, suddenly wanting to put as much distance between himself and this place.

The two men took a step forward before both of them were shoved forward with such force they slammed into a couple trees. Both men got up as a figure zipped past and an eerie sounding laugh filled the woods. Grabbing their guns the two men began to run for their lives, Connor shouting something about a ghost.

At first Steven thought he was safe, having made it to the spot the deer had been and heading straight for the woods. Next thing he knew Connor grunted and fell to the ground. Turning he gasped as the figure grabbed him by the throat and hefted him into the air. Staring down he saw nothing but the eyes; deep crimson with veins as black as night. It opened its mouth and Steven screamed a blood curdling scream as it bit down. He fought with everything he had but he couldn’t break loose. He began to feel light headed and woozy; was it poisoning him? Or was it sucking his blood? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t focus his thoughts or try to concentrate; his vision got blurry and dark spots began to appear.

Conner… Con… ner… run! he managed to gasp.

Steven Phillips eyes closed as his life ended. His now lifeless body dropped to the ground as Conner looked up at the figure looming over him. It sauntered towards him, a giggle escaping its throat. Locks of golden blonde hair glistened in the moonlight and finally Conner Nolan saw his attacker for the first time.

Oh god! he cried in horror. No! Don’t touch me.

I have a message to send, it responded, giggling again as it reached for him.

GET AWAY FROM ME! he screamed. PLEASE. PLEASE DON’T. NO!

The night was still as Connor Nolan screamed and begged for help that would not come. As quickly as they had begun his screams abruptly ended and within moments the crickets began to sing once again

CHAPTER ONE

W ow… a tree. Oh hey look… another tree. Oh wow I must be the luckiest boy in the world; we just passed an authentic Canadian rock. This is the best day of my life!

This would be the scenery of my new home that my mother and I were currently driving through. The morning was heavy with a thin, mist like fog covering the ground and off in the distance of the forest I swore I could hear the low, solemn howl of a wolf. I can assure you I was being far from serious when I stated how lucky I was.

This was hell on earth.

You know, William, you could at least make an effort to look happy, my mother noted, from the driver’s seat.

I turned away from the boring scenery outside my window now focusing my attention on her. Thankfully my eyes were hidden behind a pair of shades; otherwise I’d probably get in trouble for the glowering look I was giving her.

Why?

My voice was devoid of emotion. Of course I already knew the answer I was going to get. It was the same answer I’d been getting every time I asked for the last three and a half months; ever since the divorce and the custody battle had been finalized.

The answer? Because it was a fresh start.

Well, it’s a fresh start in a brand new place, she answered, her voice way too cheerful. She sounded almost desperate to make me happy with this new living arrangement. Think of all the new experiences you’ll have.

I rolled my eyes and turned away from her. I didn’t want or need to hear anymore of her senseless babbling. Turning to look out the window again I saw nothing but the same scenery I’d been watching now for the last hour. I didn’t really want to leave my home in London, and I definitely didn’t want to move into this backwater town in Canada.

Minden. A small town in Ontario where cell phone reception sucks and three quarters of the people were elderly or retired. The population? Five thousand, five hundred and fifty six people… five freaking thousand people. That’s it! Where I came from there was over seven and a half million people. Minden was made up mostly of cottages for a weeklong getaway; to escape the everyday life of the big city and come slum out in the middle of the forest for a week. Sit by the lake, go fishing, watch a sunset and while you’re out here you realize how stupid it was to come out here in the first place!

When we’d landed at Pearson International Airport in Mississauga, I assumed we were moving to Toronto. Just over two and a half million people lived there. I wasn’t happy about the move but maybe, just maybe I would have been less of an ass about it.

Maybe.

For me, please?

You know those people who can ask you for anything? You want to say no; in fact you would say no right away except they give you the sad puppy dog face? The look with the perfect pout, and just the right amount of sadness in their eyes; the look that is so hard to resist that you just can’t say no? My mother has perfected that look; it also happens to be her favourite way of getting me to agree to whatever she asks of me.

I bloody well hate it with a passion!

Whatever, I answered, not even bothering to look at her. Despite my best attempts to stay angry I can’t help it. I end up smiling.

I couldn’t see her but I knew she was grinning triumphantly. As angry as I am about this I still love my erratic and ambitious mother more than anything. I got most of my features from her, my golden blonde hair, the shape of my nose and my skin complexion. I also inherited her inability to be wrong and most importantly her ability to hold a grudge.

Katherine Brooks, my mother, is a born and raised Canadian from the small town of Minden, Ontario; the place where I’m being exiled to for a year. My mother loves Canada; the sense of unity, the mindset of peace before violence and the unique ethnicities that come together to make up the country. She’d moved to Toronto, when she was eighteen, to attend culinary school hoping to become a chef in a five star restaurant. She studied for two years before meeting my father.

Because of my mother I speak a little funny. My accent was positively British though I spoke some words differently. I went through life knowing how she pronounced them and it just seemed to stick with me.

Malcolm Jones, my father, is an Englishman; born and raised in the upper class life of London. His father owned a large insurance company or something like that, I was never interested enough to actually find out just what it was. Originally he had been hoping to become an architect and the few pieces that my mother had saved from his frequent purges of the house were very good. They were really good actually. I never really understood just how my father changed so drastically.

My parents met in Toronto in some sports bar. My mother was with some friends watching the hockey game and my father was on a business trip with his father, learning the roles for when he took over; something I’m told he was never too fond of doing. From stories and old pictures I was told that my mother was very… attracted to him. He had a charm and, despite being forced into a life he didn’t want, seemed to have such a zest for life… an appreciation for it. My parents kept in touch for over a year through letters (I know it’s the dinosaur of instant messenger and texting!) until finally my mother dropped out of school and left Canada to be with my father. The two of them began dating, much to the displeasure of my father’s parents, and a year later he asked her to marry him.

Things were good for them for a few months after the marriage. The only persistent problem was his parents. Both of them felt my mother was not the proper type woman for their family and continuously reminded her of just that. Eventually it got so bad that they cut them out of their lives for good.

About a month after that they found out they were expecting. My parents had defied my father’s parents and were barely making ends meet. Neither of them wanted to have a child yet; they were unable to support themselves let alone a baby. My father gave up his dream and begged his father to let him work for the company. He agreed.

My father lost his dream, lost his zest for life; he became cold, cruel and money hungry just like his own father. As a result he became the CEO within the year after his father stepped down… and in the end he lost his wife and child.

My father spent sixteen years thinking that his money could replace the time and attention I wanted and needed from him. The only time we seemed to have any closeness, and it was very brief, was when I reached sexual maturity and needed some johnnies (condoms for North Americans) to satiate my needs.

I was given the best of everything. I went to the best schools, wore designer, top of the line clothing, I had the most expensive cars… anything and everything I could want I had. Despite all this I was never greedy, I wasn’t stuck up or arrogant. My mother made damn sure of that.

A few weeks before Halloween night my father was caught cheating on my mother in their bed. My forty two year old father was in the middle of screwing his twenty two year old secretary. The affair had been going on for almost a year before he got caught.

I’m fiercely protective of my mother. She’s my best friend, my soul confidant and the one person who dropped everything she was doing to help and listen to me whenever I needed it. My discovery of what my father had done, the way my mother’s heart was forever shattered made me so angry I actually stole his car and crashed it on purpose. I’ve never hated someone quite as much as I hate him and I doubt my feelings for him will ever change.

How much longer till this scenery starts to get interesting? I asked, eyes glancing back to my mother.

You’d better get used to the trees and rocks, she replied in a rather chipper tone. You’re going to see a lot of them from here on out.

Oh you have got to bloody well be kidding me, I mumbled low enough so she couldn’t hear.

Finally turning off the back roads we entered the town. For the first time since getting off that damn plane I actually felt a little happy about living here. The town was separated by a long, winding river and every building had a sort of rustic, old time look to it. They weren’t the generic buildings you saw in the big cities. These were hand crafted and built with craftsmanship and creativity in mind. My mother drove over one of the bridges over the water before turning onto another street and heading up the long, narrow dirt road for quite some time. The closest houses were literally a five minute walk away from each other.

Eventually she turned into a driveway and pulled up in front of the ugliest garage known to man. She cut the engine and looked at me. I scrunched my nose up a bit as I tried to figure out how you got the car through that tiny little door. Then I realized this wasn’t a garage. This was the house!

The paneling that made up the house was a terribly faded aqua blue, so faded in fact that it looked almost like it had a greyish tint to it. The windows and the front door were made of what used to be white wood but the years of neglect had worn the white to an unnatural off white color. The lawn was dead, filled with weeds and, in a few places that actually grew, untamed. Surprisingly the roof looked like it was in really good shape… in fact looking at it now, the roof looked new.

I didn’t hold back this time. Ripping my shades off my face I glared at my mother something fierce. I wasn’t arrogant or stuck up but I still had a standard of living and this was certainly not it. I’ve been told that I can get terrifying when I get angry, apparently I’d inherited my father’s teper; so my mother recoiling away from me told me I was scaring her.

Good. Let her be scared.

What is this bloody disaster? I asked. You don’t seriously expect me to live in this… this… this piece of filth do you?

Well it needs a little fixing up but it’s our new home.

My blood boiled in rage. I got pulled out of my country, away from all my friends and everything I knew, away from the mansion I lived in back in London to live in this piece of shit! And she thought that I would be okay with that?

Home? I asked, scoffing at the notion. You really think I’m going to accept this piece of crap as my home? The stables where I had my horses looked better than this! In fact a bloody pigpen would be more suitable, mud included!

I know it will be hard to adjust honey but for me…

Don’t! Don’t even go there! I hissed at her, getting out of the moving van we’d been driving in for the last three hours.

I slammed the door shut, taking another look at the house. What had possessed my mother to buy this house? She had to have known I wouldn’t accept this. Was she really that clueless?

Sweetheart I know it looks bad but I got a really good deal on it, I heard her say. I already have people coming next week to fix the siding on the house. I thought it would be good for us to work on it together. Make it a home for just you and me.

She was trying. I knew that. But I was just too angry. She was giving me that look again, but my anger won this time around. I’d regret it later but it felt so right at the time.

I hate you.

Leaving my stunned mother behind, I walked into the house, waiting for the horrors inside. I released the breath I wasn’t aware I had been holding. Inside was much better than outside. The walls were all a cream color with a wooden base that ran along the top and bottom. The hardwood flooring looked new; it still had that fresh wood smell to it.

My mother came in behind me, quietly. I knew she was hurt by my comment earlier. After all, that sentence is one of the few things a parent doesn’t want to hear.

I’ll start unloading the van, she said.

I didn’t look at her; I just put my headphones in, placed my shades over my eyes again and walked out. I walked past the van and down the driveway, leaving my mother behind to do whatever she wanted. I could feel her eyes watching me as I left; she knew she’d hurt me.

Let her unload the van. Let her pretend everything is okay. I’m never going to forgive her for this, I thought bitterly, as I walked down the very long dirt road my mother had just driven us through.

Finally making it into town the first thing I took notice of was the Beer Store, and the LCBO right beside it, bringing a smile to my face. Now if that wasn’t a convenience I don’t know what is. Then I remembered you had to be nineteen to drink here and my frown came back. I let out another sigh and continue on my way.

The next thing I noticed was that most of the people I did end up seeing out and about were retired or up there in their years. This place was exactly what I thought it was… a place to retire and live the rest of your life in peace and quiet.

Just peachy, I thought. I’m going to die of boredom before I get through the year.

That’s when I saw them. The only one I really got a good look at was the girl. Her hair was a reddish-blonde color that caught the sunlight just perfectly, accenting the red in her hair. Her skin looked very smooth and just lightly tanned. It wasn’t the skin of a Californian or someone with mixed parents… no she had a tan that would fade during the winter. She had a pair of black hip hugger jeans on that sat perfectly against her hips and a black shirt that looked thin but fell and draped over her curves perfectly. She was surrounded by a group of five boys, all of whom looked well built… which seemed kind of odd. Why would all of them be that muscular and good looking yet live in this terrible place?

Another male came out of the LCBO, this one older than the rest of them though not by much. The boys all cheered as they made their way towards a large black SUV. That was when the girl looked over at me. She smiled and gave me a wave, making me realize I was staring at her.

I returned the wave, slightly embarrassed. She got into the SUV and I watched them drive away, once again left with my own thoughts. I began walking around the town, learning the paths and routes of my new home. It would take some getting used to but, in time, I was sure I could do it.

One year, I thought. Just one year and then I can leave this bloody place. I’ll never have to come back here ever again.

Little did I know what waited ahead. If I’d known I would have fought harder to leave right away.

Night comes quickly here and, with so little light, the dark creeps in fast. By the time I came home it was pitch black outside with only a few scattered street lamps as my guiding lights. I stood at the end of the driveway watching my mother, through the bay window, glance worriedly at her cell phone. She’d sent me seven texts and left five voicemails, none of which I responded to.

I walked into the house and slammed the door shut. Though I didn’t look at her I could tell she was relieved.

It’s eleven thirty, she said, a statement to my being out past the curfew she’d set after the divorce. I never used to have one.

So?

I was worried, she answered, her voice soft.

I couldn’t tell what her words meant. Was she worried that I’d been gone for so long or worried that she was going to piss me off now? Either way she was invoking my rage; poking a sleeping bear so to speak.

Oh, so now you’re worried? I asked, my voice rising. Now you care?

My temper flared. I knew she did this because being back in London just hurts her to much… but dragging me out of there hurt me more than she knows.

Will, I…

You didn’t care when you pulled me out of my home, away from my friends, away from my girlfriend, away from my life! I yelled, furious. You forced me to leave everything I knew, everything I was, behind. You didn’t care about me then; you don’t have the right to care now!

Without another word I turned around, headed into the hall, and took the first door on the left. Thankfully, I found my bedroom on the first try. I slammed the door shut and turned on the light. My mother must have been busy because my bed’s been built, and made up, along with my nightstands and a dresser. It’s not much of a room at the moment but the basics are all here. I began to wonder if she did my room first.

Growing up my mother and I had been very close. Where my father failed to be my mother was. She was the one person I could turn to for anything. She was more like a big sister or best friend more than my mother. I was always fiercely protective of my mother and anyone who tried to hurt or insult her was usually met with my wrath.

What hurt the most was the feeling of loss. Not only had I lost my mother but I lost my best friend to… the feeling really hurt.

I moved to the first of my suitcases and began rummaging through it, trying to find clothes for tomorrow. I still had a week before school started, the school I was going to was half an hour away from my house so I’d have to take a bus, unless my mother somehow surprised me with a car.

Pfft. Yeah… I doubt that to.

I set the clothes out on my dresser for tomorrow before unbuttoning my short sleeved shirt and letting it fall off my body and to the floor; seeing my reflection in the mirror. I’ve never been vain, but I knew I was good looking. I had played soccer back in my old school, and I had been part of the track team. I kept myself in the best shape I could and the result was my body. I grinned at myself before turning to the bed.

I pulled the covers down and reached for the light switch when I first heard it. Soft at first, so soft I thought it was the TV my mother was watching in the living room. I opened the door a little bit so I could hear better when I heard it again.

I walked out of my room and peeked around the wall trying to find out what my mother was watching when I noticed she was sitting on a chair, the television wasn’t even on. My mother was crying.

Oh just fan-bloody-tastic, I made her cry, I thought, mentally b-rating myself. Good going you ass.

I had two choices. I could go out there, pretend that everything was forgiven and suffer in silence just so she was slightly happier, or, I could let her cry herself to sleep, thinking her only child hated her, that her husband never loved her and that her life was slowly spiralling towards being meaningless. The second option was cold and heartless… the option my father would have chosen.

I sighed to myself and rounded the corner into the living room. My mother was sitting on a ratty looking chair, her hands covering her face. She was trying not to cry too loudly; I guess so she wouldn’t alert me. I sat down on the couch beside her chair, the sudden movement catching her attention.

Her eyes were puffy and red, tear marks flowing down her cheeks. She looked surprised to see me sitting there and I felt horribly guilty. I’d made my mother cry this badly? She quickly wiped the tears away, sniffling.

Why are you still up? she asked. I thought you were going to bed?

I heard you crying, I answered.

Oh, she mumbled. I thought I wasn’t being too loud.

I let out another sigh and grabbed the blanket that hung on the back of the couch. My mother squeezed over so the two of us could get into the chair. Yeah, not one of my better ideas. I wrapped the blanket around the two of us and then laid my head on her shoulder, just like I used to do when I was little. We were cramped but I could tell my mother appreciated the gesture.

I’m angry mum. Really angry. I probably will be for quite some time, I said to her, softly. I’m sorry for taking this all out on you but, no matter what I say, no matter how I act I will always love you. You understand me? Always.

My mother nodded, fresh tears falling down again. She didn’t deserve this, to have her heart broken the way she did. I wasn’t helping the situation, being the ungrateful bastard I knew I was acting like, I knew that. I also knew in a roundabout way all of this was my father’s fault.

I know you’re angry about leaving everything behind honey but please, please give this place a chance, she said, moving a strand of hair out of my face. I promise you’ll love it here.

There was that damn puppy dog look again! I bloody well hate that look!

Fine, on one condition, I said, looking up at her. You stop bloody well looking at me like that.

Like what? my mother asked, feigning innocence, but starting to smile.

That sad puppy dog look, I answered. You know I can’t say no when you use it.

She smiled wickedly at me before throwing her head back, cackling.

Oh William, sweetheart, haven’t you ever considered that you’re just a big softy?

I narrowed my eyes; the smile that had been starting to show up on my face vanished. I got up off the chair and stormed away, slamming the door to her bedroom. I heard her sigh from the living room.

Aw, Will come on, she said. Don’t be like that.

Leaning against her door, I could hear her getting out of her seat. Perfect. I put on the best evil grin I could before opening the door. My mother looked up at me and smiled back when she saw the grin on my face.

What?

I simply shrugged and walked past her into my room. I looked over my shoulder, still grinning like an idiot before closing my door behind me. I leaned against it and counted down.

Three.

Two.

One.

William Taylor Jones what did you do?

I let out a loud laugh, knowing my mother would tear her room apart to find out what I’d done to it. The truth was I hadn’t done anything. No reason to tell her that though. It would be more amusing to let her figure that out for herself.

William! Get out here and tell me what you did right now!

Good night mum, I answered, locking my door.

Don’t you go to bed young man! she shouted. William!

I pressed my back against the door, my head turned so I could see the doorknob from the corner of my eyes. My mother was still standing there and I let out another laugh.

How’s that for being a softy mother dearest? I asked.

She let out an agitated groan before closing her bedroom door. I smiled to myself as I got ready for bed. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Shows how little I knew.

The week before school passed by in a blur of events and work that I didn’t realize that the dreaded starting of school was just around the corner.

While my mother and I repainted the inside of the house the men she’d hired to replace the paneling and the windows showed up. Naturally I ended up helping with that work as well spending most of my days outside sweating my ass off. In the very least it was an amazing workout and it was experience I wouldn’t get anywhere else, so that was a plus. The day after the paneling job had been started a flooring company arrived and began work on the bathroom, retiling the floor and painting the walls of both bathrooms. They were done in a few short hours. The day after that the plumber showed up to install the new toilets, showers and sinks in each bathroom.

To me it seemed a little suspicious that all this work was being done effectively and this quickly. By the end of the week the house was completely remodelled with new paint, bathroom necessities and bedroom needs. The only room in the house left to redesign was the kitchen, a room I refused point blank to help out with. To me it should have taken longer to finish; I wasn’t aware of how much my mother got in the divorce settlement but it had to be a lot. My mother must have called all this in weeks ago or she’d finally learned how to use money to get people to do what she wanted.

With everything in the house redone the only thing we had left to do was pick out new furniture. My mother drove hours out of town to places like Leon’s and The Brick to buy name brand furniture but she still wanted some unique pieces for the living room.

Thus I found myself spending the last Sunday of my summer holidays going through some out of