My grandad used to come to my room at night wearing a mask. Now I know why. Part 2.

Part One
***
"Don?t let me catch you talking about werewolves." Grandad sat down on the edge of my bed. The mattress sagged beneath his weight. "This isn?t a bloody storybook."
It?d been several hours since dad had left with mum. I?d been sat up in my bed, watching the sky outside my window fade to black. Watching as the glow from the moon grew brighter. When grandad finally arrived half an hour ago, the headlights from his Land Rover spilling into our driveway, I felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The same way I?d felt when I was speaking to dad earlier.
In the time grandad had been in my room, I?d already asked him what felt like a hundred different questions. And we?d barely even scratched the surface.
"So... you?re not a werewolf, then?" I forced myself to meet grandad?s gaze. His blue eyes stared back at me, bright and unblinking. After a moment he looked away and sighed.
"It?s not a word anyone uses," he muttered. "I suppose there are similarities to what you?re thinking of, but it?s different, too. Not like in films."
"But... you... we... whatever happens to us... it happens when the moon?s full, right?"
"Well, yes and no. Not exactly. It?s..." Grandad frowned and paused for a moment. He stared down at my duvet, as if he could find an answer in it. Then he let out a sudden, throaty chuckle. Grinned and shook his head. "I went though all this with your mother, but I?m still no good at explaining it. It?s like... it?s like falling asleep, in a way. Moving between awake and sleeping. Between different states. You can do it anytime you want, but it?ll happen quicker if you?re already tired. And if you?re really tired, it?s hard to avoid."
I stared at grandad. Tried to understand what he meant. He must have seen the confusion in my face.
"Sorry lad, I?m not explaining myself well at all. What I mean is, we can... change... any time we want. Older ones who?ve lived with it for years can change in a matter of minutes. But there are times of the month ? when the moon?s at its fullest, I mean ? when changing is a lot easier. Like how sleep comes easier when you?re tired. And on the night it?s completely full the change can be... well, it can be almost impossible to control. Even when you?re as old as I am."
He smiled at me, but I didn?t smile back. I was trying to concentrate on everything he?d been saying. Trying to take it all in. Questions were building in my head, and I didn?t know which to ask first.
"So when you do change..." I said after a moment. "When we change... what do we change into? What does it look like?"
Grandad stared back at me. He was silent for a few moments before he opened his mouth to speak.
"Well, you?ll?"
His sentence was cut off by the sound of a car passing on the road outside. Headlights flared in the darkness outside my window, then faded again. The noise of an engine briefly filled the room, dwindling as the car drove off into the distance. When I looked back at grandad, I saw he was on his feet. He marched over to the window and frowned out into the darkness.
"I knew we should have done this at the cottage." He muttered the words under his breath, but they were just loud enough for me to hear. "Stupid of me, coming here."
"Grandad?"
"Eh?"
"What do you mean, stupid? Why is it stupid?"
Grandad glanced back at me. Thick frown lines traced his forehead. "It?s nothing you need to worry about. I wanted your dad to bring you to my cottage, that's all, but the stubborn ******* wouldn?t do it. Said you were too ill."
"What?s wrong with you coming here?"
"It?s risky, that?s what." Any trace of a smile had gone from grandad?s face. "If you?re going to learn about all this, you might as well learn that first. It?s a risk. All of it. A constant struggle to stay hidden. And you don?t get to be my age without making a few enemies, I?ll tell you that."
I stared past grandad, at the darkness beyond my bedroom window. Stared at the light of the moon. My body still ached, but for now a spike of adrenalin had made me forget the worst of it. I suddenly realised I?d never seen grandad outside his cottage before.
"What enemies?" I said after a moment. "Are you... are there people after you?"
Grandad let out another low chuckle. This time there was no humour in it. "Not just me," he said. "The whole clan. There?s always someone. Hunters out for a trophy. Big companies. People wanting your skin. The government. We try our best to keep everything secret, but it?s no good. People see things, and people talk. It always gets out."
Grandad reached out suddenly and tugged the curtains across my window shut. Blocked out the moonlight. He stood at the end of my bed, staring down at me.
"If we?re going to talk, we?ll do it downstairs," he growled. "I?m not standing here like your bloody nursemaid."
He turned and left the room before I had a chance to respond.
*
We sat in the lounge, opposite one another. Grandad in an armchair near the front door, me on the sofa. Curtains drawn. Yellow light spilled down from the bulb overhead. A light rain had started outside, and it drummed against the window like a thousand soft fingers. Every now and then a car would pass by on the road, and each time grandad?s body would tense. Just a little. He?d try and hide it, but I saw.
I still felt ill. My body ached and my skin itched. I felt weak and tired. But for now, at least, I could almost forget about those things. Adrenalin, fear and excitement swirled in my stomach. I wanted to ask grandad about his mask, and why he wasn?t wearing it. But I was worried he?d get angry again, like he had in my room. I?d heard the temper in his voice then, and I didn?t want to be on the receiving end of it. So instead I asked a different question.
"Where does mum go?" I said. "When she?s away each month, I mean. Where is she?"
"She stays with a couple of friends of mine," said grandad. "Old friends. Part of the clan. They live in the New Forest, too, about five miles from me. They?ve... helped me with her. Helped me show her the ropes."
"But why does she have to stay away? Why can't she do what you do?"
Grandad fixed his blue eyes on mine. Ran a hand through his thick white beard, scratching the skin underneath. "It takes a long, long time to get used to the change," he said after a moment. "I?ve lived with it for years, and even then your dad still wanted me to put that chuffin? thing on my face when I was around you. Block out the smell on the worst nights." Grandad shook his head. "I didn?t need it, and it ****** me off that he thought I might. But I let it go. I let it go because he?s seen your mother when... when she?s in her other state. And he knows how bad it can get."
"How bad can it get?"
Grandad opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment another car engine sounded in the distance. He paused, listening. The engine grew louder. After a few moments I saw headlights illuminate the drawn curtains of the lounge window. The engine swelled as the car drove passed the house. I heard the splash of wheels on wet tarmac. The engine faded as the car continued down the road ? and then it suddenly cut off.
Grandad froze. His face was set in a mask of concentration. After a moment he cocked his head slightly to one side, presumably listening for the sound of the engine starting back up again. It didn?t come. I listened too, and I couldn?t hear a thing. Only the rain, growing steadily heavier outside. Pattering against the glass. Wind gusted around the house, causing the trees in our garden to rustle.
"It?s probably just one of our neighbours, grandad," I said. "I think the car?"
I stopped talking when grandad held up a hand. He shook his head. The frown lines on his forehead were so deep now they looked liked cuts. "No," he muttered after a moment. "Someone?s coming."
My skin suddenly felt cold. I had no reason to be afraid, but the tension on Grandad?s face was rubbing off on me. I strained my ears for a sound, but I still couldn?t hear anything. Only the rain.
"Grandad?s, it?s nothing," I whispered. "There?s nobody out?"
Our garden gate creaked open. The sound was soft, but clear. The familiar squeal of old hinges. It cut through the wind and rain. My skin prickled with an unpleasant heat and my heartbeat picked up in my chest. Grandad was on his feet. He crept over to the little front door in the corner of our lounge, moving without making a sound.
Our house is tidier than grandad?s cottage, but it?s still almost as old. The ceilings are low. Standing just to the left of the front door, in the shadowy entrance to our dining room, grandad had to crouch. Stood up straight, the top of his head would have touched the ceiling. The front door was smaller than he was. His blue eyes were fixed on the little square of frosted glass set in its centre. I started to get up from the sofa, but he held out his hand again. Motioned for me to stay where I was. A second later I heard footsteps crunching across our gravel drive.
I held my breath. Every inch of my skin prickled and itched. I stared at the little window in our front door, waiting to see movement on the far side of it. Trying to tell myself I had nothing to be afraid of. It was probably just dad, that was all. Dad, coming back to pick something up. Maybe something he'd forgotten. It was a little strange that he hadn't parked the car right outside our house, but there had to be an explanation for that, didn't there? Who else would it be?
As these thoughts rushed through my head, a shadow appeared on the far side of the frosted glass. A shape in the darkness. I held my breath again, feeling my heart pound my rib cage like a fist. For a second nothing happened.
And then someone was rapping their fist against the front door over and over again.
"Hello? Is anyone home?" It was a man's voice. Not someone I recognised. "Hello? Can anyone help me please? I saw a light on."
Grandad stayed completely still. He stared at the door, his face unchanging. The knocking continued. After a moment the man spoke again. His voice sounded close to panic.
"Please, if someone?s there can I use your phone? Our car?s broken down and we don?t have any signal. Please, me wife isn?t very well."
Grandad hesitated for another second. Then he reached out and tugged the door open. From where I was sitting I couldn?t see the man in the porch, but I could hear everything he was saying clearly enough.
"Oh, thank you so much! I?m so sorry to trouble you, we?ve had an absolute nightmare. Our car?s broken down just a little way along the road, and my wife is unwell. She?s eight months pregnant, you see, and we?re on our way to Bournemouth to visit friends, but my phone lost signal and I was taking what I thought was a shortcut, stupid of me I know, and then we got this warning light on the dashboard a little while back and I..."
I watched Grandad?s face as the man babbled on and on. His expression was fixed and hard to read. But I thought at least some of the tension had gone out of it.
"... so if you have a mobile I could use or a landline," the man continued, "... then I can make a very quick call to the AA and I?ll be out of your hair, I?m so sorry again for the intrusion, I?"
"What?s that in your hand?" Grandad's gruff voice cut through the man?s rambling. I stared at his face, but his expression remained the same.
"Oh, this! This is a walkie talkie," said the man. "I may not be able to navigate to save my life, but I always worry about safety. Over-worry, actually. Paranoid, that?s what my wife calls me. We ran out of petrol in the middle of nowhere once and I?ve carried a pair of these in the car ever since, along with a first aid kit and some spare clothes. Just in case, you know? You never know when these things might come in handy. In fact, that reminds me..." He fell silent for a moment. A few seconds later I heard a soft beeping sound. "High sweetheart, it?s me," he said. "A nice gentleman down the road has just opened the door, so I?ll call the AA and be back as soon as possible, okay? Over."
There was a faint cracking noise. After a moment, I heard the tinny sound of a woman?s voice responding.
"Okay, be as quick as you can," she said. "I?m really not feeling good, Tim. Over."
"I will sweetheart, I promise. Over."
The crackling sound cut off. There was a moment of silence, and then grandad sighed. He looked weary, but any sign of the previous tension in his face had gone. "Right, come in then," he said. "You can use my phone, but you?d better make it quick. My grandson?s not well, either."
He edged back away from the door. A moment later, the man stepped into the lounge. Any residual fear I may have felt vanished the minute I saw him. He was about half the size of grandad. What was left of his thinning black hair was slicked down against his forehead from the rain. He wore glasses that were speckled with water drops. His raincoat dripped onto the carpet. As soon as he saw me he raised a nervous hand in greeting and started babbling again.
"Hi there, I?m Tim! So sorry to intrude, I just need to make a very quick call and I?ll be out of your way again, my wife and I have had a nightmare this evening, we?"
Grandad shoved his mobile phone into the man?s hand, cutting him off mid-flow. "There, you can use that."
"Oh perfect, thank you so much!" Tim looked up at my grandad with wide-eyed gratitude. "I'll be as quick as I can, I promise."
He tapped at the screen of grandad's phone, then raised it to his ear. Smiled across at me, and I smiled back. Grandad hovered near him, watching. He didn?t say anything else or look at me. After a few moments of waiting, Tim started babbling into the phone.
"Hi, yes, I?m Tim Farris... yes, I think we may need someone to come out and help us I'm afraid... yeah, we?ve had a bit of car trouble, we?re out near..." Tim?s voice droned on and on. After a minute of talking he got his AA card out of his wallet and began reciting numbers. I began to grow aware of just how much my body was aching again. The adrenalin I?d felt earlier was fading, and I now had a hollow feeling in my stomach, too. Like I needed to eat. My skin itched and I had to resist the urge to scratch my arms.
To distract myself, I watched grandad. He looked suddenly uncomfortable. He was standing in the same spot as before, staring at Tim, but now he was shuffling back and forth. Like he couldn?t keep still. He kept running a hand through his beard, his eyes never leaving Tim?s face.
When Tim finally hung up the phone and handed it back to grandad, I felt a hard-to-place sense off relief. "Great, they?re sending someone out now," Tim said. "They?re going to call back in five minutes with an eta. So sorry again about all this, but do you mind if I wait for their call?"
Grandad grunted in response. Tim turned to me and smiled. "And what did you say your name was, matey? You?re grandad told me you?re feeling a little bit under the weather?"
I nodded. "I?m James," I said. "I?ve just got the flu or something, I think."
Tim frowned and nodded his headed. "Nasty stuff, nasty stuff. Something going round at the moment. So, is it just the two of you here tonight, then? Mum and dad not about?"
I opened my mouth to reply, then paused. Tried to think what was best to say. I couldn't tell the man where mum and dad really were, but at the same time I couldn't just ignore the question. I glanced over at grandad, but he was frowning down at the phone in his hand. Not listening.
"They?re, uh, out tonight," I said after a moment. "They?ve gone out for a meal in town."
"Ah, very nice, very nice. Well hopefully their car?s a bit more reliable than mine, eh? Out for the whole night, are they?"
Tim smiled across the room at me. Outside the house, the wind gusted harder than ever. Rain drummed against the window in heavy sheets. I opened my mouth, unsure how best to respond. But before I had a chance, grandad spoke.
"Your call didn?t go through."
"Hm?" Tim turned away from me and looked at grandad.
"The call you made just now. It didn?t go through."
"Sorry, how do you mean?"
Grandad?s blue eyes were fixed on Tim. He stared at him without blinking. "What I mean is the call you just made only lasted three seconds. It?s right here in my log. You dialled a number, then ended the call almost straight away. Why?"
"Oh, sorry I don't..." Tim trailed off and looked at grandad. His eyes flicked from grandad's face to the mobile phone in his hand, then back again. "That's bizarre," he said after a moment. "There must be some kind of mistake. I definitely got through to someone. Maybe your phone didn't record it properly, or... well, are you sure you're looking at the right--"
"I know exactly what I'm looking at. The call didn't go through. Which means you were only pretending to speak on the phone just now. And I want you to tell me why."
Tim stared at my grandad. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Wind howled around the eaves of the house. Rain continued to drum down. There was a beat when everything inside was still, and the only noise I could hear was my own heartbeat. Then everything happened at once.
Tim raised the walkie talkie to his mouth and pushed the button. He backed away across the lounge towards the front door, bellowing into the mouthpiece as he moved.
"Now, go now, the kid?s here too and?"
It was as far as he for. Grandad?s hand shot out and swiped the walkie talkie from Tim?s grip. It smashed against the wall of the lounge and fell to the carpet, where it crackled and fell silent.
Grandad moved quicker than I thought was possible. He closed the distance between himself and Tim in one large step, gripping the man?s head in two large hands. Tim?s glasses went tumbling off his face. He screamed. The sound cut off as grandad jerked his hands sharply to the right, snapping Tim?s neck in one clean motion. He released his grip and Tim crumpled to the floor.
On the road outside, I heard the distant sound of a car engine starting. Grandad turned to stare at me, his blue eyes blazing.
"Get up," he said. "We have to get out of here, right now."


Source.