Blood Moon by Jackie French

of your family ever come in late and bloodstained?—was impossible.
    Great Uncle Rex sat curled into the largest of the sofas in the living room. The dog smell seemed fainter now, or perhaps I was getting used to it.
    ‘Er…hope I didn’t…er…offend you,’ he said. ‘Last night…’
    ‘No, of course not,’ I said sincerely. There was a thin layer of hair on my cushion. I hunted for words then decided to take a leaf out of Eleanor’s book. Probably Chapter 8 of Neo-authoritarianism was titled ‘How to Win Friends and Influence Elderly Werewolves’. ‘I was flattered,’ I said finally.
    ‘You really were?’ Great Uncle Rex brightened.
    ‘Look, I’d really value your experience on this. I mean, you know the people in this valley better than anyone.’
    Great Uncle Rex brightened even further. ‘Well, yes. The old dog’s day isn’t done yet, eh?’
    ‘Who do you think is responsible for the murders?’
    Suddenly the facade of harmless old gentleman was gone. Great Uncle Rex looked serious, and now I could see the protective uncle he had once been. ‘Been thinking about that a lot,’ he said. ‘Two murders, blood on the doorstep both times. Obvious solution, one murderer.’
    ‘Well, yes,’ I said.
    ‘Not necessarily,’ said Great Uncle Rex crisply. ‘First murder, the Patriarch—well, lots who’d like to get rid of him. See what I mean?’
    ‘I think so,’ I said.
    ‘So, someone thinks, werewolf pack up on the hill. Tear the old man’s throat out, everyone will think it’s them.’
    ‘But surely they wouldn’t want you to get the blame!’
    Great Uncle Rex wrinkled his too-broad nose. ‘Hate anyone different, werewolves even more different. See what I mean?’
    I nodded.
    ‘Besides, Patriarch a bastard. Public service really.’
    ‘What about Brother Perry?’
    ‘All right, Brother Perry. Who hates Brother Perry? Too many to count. Someone thinks: right, there’s a werewolf murderer about. Let’s bump off Brother Perry, people will think it’s the same wolf who killed the first one. Don’t feel guilty about wolf getting the blame, as they think wolf has already killed once.’
    ‘But it wasn’t one of you?’
    Great Uncle Rex met my eyes. ‘Not one of us,’ he said, and suddenly his speech was slower and more distinct. ‘I never ruled this clan, but have been part of it all my life. Eleanor, she tries to make us human. We look human, most of us, most of the time, but underneath we are wolf. And wolves do not kill,’ he said, even more slowly, ‘except for food or to protect our own.’
    ‘Uncle Rex, what happened to your brother and sister?’ I asked frankly, ‘the ones that Eleanor and Rusty defeated to become the leaders of the family?’
    Great Uncle Rex was silent for a moment. ‘Dead,’ he said at last. ‘Not what you are thinking. Own choice. A wolf thing. When you are leader, you lead. When defeated, you lose heart.’
    ‘I see,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Uncle Rex.’Great Aunt Lexie was tiny and furry in her great soft bed, in her room without a door, in the first branch. The face was human—almost—but the limbs beneath the sheets looked awkward. I was reminded of the wolf in Red Riding Hood, dressed in the grandmother’s clothes in her bed. His shape would have looked a bit like this…
    ‘She was such a pretty girl,’ said Great Aunt Lexie. She was talking about Eleanor as a child. ‘I could see she’d be a good leader even then. But it takes more than leadership you know. Oh, much more.’
    ‘Does it?’ The room smelt of fur and talcum powder.
    ‘Oh, yes. It’s the fight, you know. That’s how you get to be leader. You have to be strong. She was such a pretty little thing. I thought, she’ll never make it. She’ll challenge and she’ll lose, and being Eleanor she wouldn’t have coped with losing. I thought, Emerald will be the one to make it. Emerald was a such sturdy child.’
    ‘But Eleanor won,’ I said.
    ‘Oh, yes, Eleanor won. It was