Chris Quinton Fox Hunt

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.But repeated phone calls failed to raise a response from Mike, while Lisa's voicemail informed me she was in London with Simon and Beth, catching a matinee of The Lion King.Fox slept.Like the dead.At three o'clock in the afternoon I gave up trying to track Mike down and crawled off to bed, trying not to worry about him.Needless to say, though I was exhausted, I could not get to sleep.Wendlow might have already grabbed him for insurance before Fox and I broke out of there - but no, if he had, he would have used him as well as Fox to pressure me.Fox.My brain just would not switch off.Without people around me, things to do, there were no distractions.So the thoughts were able to scurry round inside my skull like demented mice trapped in a wheel, trying to make some kind of sense out of the impossible.For instance, creatures like Adam Courtney did not exist.They were figments of a writer's overheated imagination.But Fox was real, even if he hadn't so much as twitched a muscle since he'd dropped onto my bed.The only thing that told me he was more or less alive was that rigor mortis hadn't set in.Yet I had seen him shot to death and buried.Seen him lunge for Wendlow's throat with the speed and ferocity of a hunting leopard.That wasn't nightmare or dark fantasy.It was as real as the smell of earth in his hair, real as the shuddering tension in his body as I'd held him.As real as the splinters of bloodied bone I'd picked from his wounds.That thought was the last straw.I got up, pulled on my bath robe and went downstairs.The clocks struck four.In the living room, Uncle Joe's snores supplied bizarre grace-notes to the chimes, while I slumped at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in my hands and wondered what I was going to do about Fox.In the space of seven days my world had been turned upside down and inside out, and most of the chaos had been caused by a redhead with too much charm and a very strange diet.How did I really feel about him? That was easily answered.I knew I'd still be drawn to him even if he was in truth just another of Mike's pals.That smile, the way his eyes lit up, his personality and sense of humour - the way he moved, for God's sake - and underneath it all was an odd kind of vulnerability that twisted my heart a little.He must have lost so much over the years.Was that why he clung to bits of the past with such single-minded stubbornness? He, more than most, must surely feel the need for roots, for at least one constant in his long life.A home base.The house he'd been born in, had somehow kept his own against all the odds, only to have it invaded and raided to feed a Hoarder's greed.That would be enough to turn a meek and mild Mr Average into a homicidal maniac.Fox's moral code, let's face it, had been bred into him in the sixteenth century.Modern though he seemed on the outside, I knew the invasion of his home would have triggered reactions dating back to his early years.In spite of all that, I had fallen for him.Me, ordinary Lose-Me-in-a-Crowd Rob Rees.God, I was a fool.But what about Wendlow's code? The man was obsessed with Fox's era.Would that obsession counteract the mental blocks and suggestions Fox had fed him? Once the fuss had died down about the body and the dogs, he'd turn his attention back to collecting.If the cover story Fox had planted in his mind fell under the pressure of Wendlow's lifelong habits and behaviours, the game would be right back at square one, with added complications.Everyone in my family, and others like Baverstock and Ann, would be in the firing line.Again, my first instinct was to phone the police.Then I remembered all the reasons why that would be a monumentally bad idea, and I swore.Uncle Joe would have been proud of my vocabulary.I swore again a few minutes later when a motorcycle roared up the lane and turned into the back yard.Mike didn't come in immediately.He'd probably discovered the wreck of the Beast and would be examining her -"Rob!" The back door crashed open and my brother made an entrance an avenging angel would have envied."Where the hell have you been? I've been scouring half Wiltshire for you! What happened to Fox's bike? Was he hurt? Did you know the panel's disappeared? Are you all right?""Busy." I answered the questions in order."A tree and a river.Yes, but not much.I know, we brought it back.I'm fine.Pour yourself some tea.""What was that note all about?" he demanded, ignoring the teapot and helping himself to biscuits instead."It didn't make any sense.What job?""I'll tell you later," I said."All of it." Well, most of it, anyhow, and only when Fox was around to control the inevitable reaction.There was no way he would believe me if I told him what Fox was, and as far as the Wendlow situation was concerned, the wrath of God has nothing on a Rees or a Wells declaring a vendetta."How's Dad? You haven't said anything that'll start him off, have you?""It was Wendlow, wasn't it?" Mike exploded."What the hell did he do? Where were you? What - ""I'm not telling you anything until you've calmed down and stopped shouting," I interrupted."The panels," Fox said from the doorway, making us both jump like startled rabbits."They were stolen from me.""I know, Rob said," Mike began, and I remembered I hadn't got round to letting Fox know I'd brought most of my family into the tangle."Well, his grandfather, actually," I put in, "but it's the same thing." Fox's eyes met mine and his smile was warm with appreciation and thanks.And something more than just affection? Or was I kidding myself?"Exactly," he agreed solemnly.Casually he strolled into the kitchen, looking sort of rumpled, half-asleep and completely harmless.He stopped beside Mike and equally casually he dropped his arm across my brother's shoulders, hooking a chair out from under the table with his foot as he did so."Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?" he suggested.Mike nodded and slumped into the chair.Then he shook his head."Can't," he mumbled."Rob's in danger…""He'll be fine.I'll make sure of that." I bristled.I didn't need a bloody knight in shining armour!Mike struggled half-heartedly against the compulsion, then he folded his arms on the table, rested his head on them and closed his eyes.In seconds his breathing was slow and even."Very impressive," I said warily and shot out of my chair as Fox started towards me."But keep your distance, Fox.You're not putting me under!""Don't be difficult, Rob.It's for your own good."A fuzzy kind of sleepiness began to fold over me and I fought it off with grim determination."No," I said and he frowned quizzically."You can't get to Baverstock without me.""Wrong," he smiled."I know where he lives, that's all I need.The Rees clan is best out of this now.Stop fighting me, Rob.You won't win.""Ah, but you can't influence his security cameras, can you?" I pointed out [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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