Rough Sleepers

by Nem Rowan

  "Whoa, hang on there, sister. Didn't mean anything by it," he stuttered when he saw the glare in my eyes. I realised I was squeezing his forearm so hard that if I wasn't careful, I'd end up shattering bone. I felt Ceri's hand on my shoulder, distracting me.

  "Leave it, Leona," he urged, speaking loudly near my ear as he no doubt forgot my hearing was much more sensitive than his.

  I gave the man one last contemptuous glance and released his limb from my vise-like grip; he looked genuinely shocked at my strength as his mouth had fallen open and he said nothing as I turned and followed Ceri through the crowd.

  "I wasn't gonna start a fight if that's what you think! That asshole touched my butt!" I told the back of Ceri's head as we squeezed between a group of shrieking women that were hanging around a slot machine. Ceri seemed not to hear me because he didn't turn to look at me, but then I wondered if he was ignoring me. In the car on the way here, he had been so nervous that I hadn't been able to get him to talk to me at all; instead he sat there chewing at his lip and tapping his fingertips on the steering wheel every time we stopped at the lights.

  "Well, I'll tell you 'ow. You got a Bible? Yeah? Well, it says there that King David's Triumph could be heard throughout the land." The musician's voice through the speakers managed to make itself heard over the din, which soon grew louder as so many dozens of alcohol-sodden men and women fell about laughing.

  "'Ow many of you 'ere Deep Purple fans?" the man questioned.

  The crowd erupted into a clamour of whistles and hoots while the guitarist picked at several strings and adjusted her stance, her piercing eyes gazing upwards aloofly as the fair-haired woman hidden behind the drum set suddenly hammered out a rampant drumbeat.

  Ceri took me towards the bar, which was no easy feat with so many people in the way, and so I hung back behind him, waiting at his shoulder as he managed to get his elbow onto the counter and lean through the bustle of drinkers ordering booze. Raw guitar started to thunder through the chatter, completely drowning out any of the coherent voices within earshot, followed by the pounding of drums and thudding of many feet on the ground. Ceri was near enough shouting at the barman, who came closer to lean his ear towards him, his eyes squinting and his hands fidgeting as he wiped them in his beer-stained apron. I turned to look around, beginning to feel rather claustrophobic and gagging for some fresh air, even if it meant standing outside in the bitter cold.

  "The psychic! Is he yere tonight!" I caught Ceri's words as he repeated himself to the barman, a big, bearded man with a torso shaped like a barrel. He seemed to get it this time and nodded, gesturing that Ceri lean over the bar so he could tell him. Ceri then turned to me and patted me on the shoulder, nodding his head towards a side door next to the bar, which the barman had unlocked for us and was holding ajar.

  The door lead behind the bar where, hidden behind it, there was a dark stairway leading upwards. Ceri went up first, his boots clumping on the metal-rimmed steps and my heels clopping behind him. At the top of the stairs were two more doors; one said STAFF ONLY, and the other had a sign screwed onto it that read 'Gabriel Blake: Psychic Medium & Tarot Reader'. I wasn't entirely sure what we were walking into; if anything, I was curious, as I had never been to see a psychic before.

  "I just wanna warn you." Ceri stopped outside the door. He reached for my hand, taking hold of it and lifting it so that he could kiss my knuckles. "There's another werewolf in yere, but don't worry, he's not dangerous."

  "Now you're telling me?" I was aghast that he hadn't clued me in on this sooner.

  "I've known him a long time. He ain't like you, he's a different kind of werewolf," he whispered. Fortunately the noise from the pub below was dampened by the walls that now separated us so we no longer had to shout at each other to communicate.

  "What do ya mean, a different kind?"

  "There are other kinds. Look, I'll explain later, all right? I just wanted you to know, is all. Now try and, y'know, behave yourself," he requested, an awkward look in his eye as he glanced down at the floor. "It's not that I think you'll embarrass me. I just wanna handle this, okay?"

  "Okay. I'll be a good girl," I promised, figuring it would be best if I just kept my mouth shut on this one.

  He eyed me for a moment, both of us gazing at each other.

  "Thanks." He eventually nodded, and I smiled fondly as he leaned closer and gave me a kiss on my freshly shaved cheek. He continued to gaze at me for reassurance as he knocked on the door, and we waited silently for a response.

  Within seconds, the handle turned, and the door opened a fraction. I realised I was looking directly at someone's chest, and when I tilted my head up to look at his face, I found a rather handsome, ginger-haired man standing there. His eyes were the brightest turquoise I had ever seen, and his freckled face was narrow and angular with a large pointed nose and a thick smattering of stubble. His hair was long, hanging down over his shoulders, his ears poking through the curtained sides. I knew, as we gazed at each other, that he was a werewolf. It was perhaps a combination of his scent and the otherworldly glint in his vivid eyes that brought me to this conclusion.

  The glint was different though; different to what I saw in Mecky or Christine's eyes, or even my own, something softer, more natural, less abrasive. His appearance was remarkably similar to the man that had been on the stage; perhaps they were related, maybe even brothers. As he opened the door wider, I saw that he wore a tan nubuck jerkin embroidered with ivy and heavy, dark grey jeans that pooled over the laces of his brown hiking boots. Mottled, ancient tattoos created blotches of faded colour on his bare arms.

  "Dog-End, good to see you mate," Ceri greeted him, but I detected a small measure of hesitance in his voice as the stranger turned his head to look at him instead.

  "Issat you, Geraint?" Dog-End responded with a thick West Country burr.

  "Yeah—sorry, I know it's been awhile since I've been round yere," Ceri replied awkwardly. "Was wondering if Gabby might wanna, y'know, give us a hand with a problem we've got."

  "Well, I dun't see why not. Come in 'ere, he'll wanna see ya." He smiled suddenly, and I saw that he had several gold teeth. "Yer friend comin' in as well?"

  "Yeah, I'm his bodyguard, see," I said.

  "Eh, Geraint gettin' looked after by a woman?" Dog-End grinned amusedly as he moved aside to allow us through.

  I glanced at him through hooded eyes; unsure if I was meant to find that funny or not. Inside the room it was dimly lit by many candles and the air was hazy with incense smoke. I half-expected there to be whale song playing and for the floor to be covered in purple velvet cushions, but instead there was only the stifled din coming from downstairs and a lone table in the centre of the room, surrounded by some haphazardly positioned chairs. A man was sitting with his elbows on the table top; he was quite small in stature, perhaps around five and a half feet tall if he was to stand.

  "Well, what do we got 'ere den? If it ain't our ol' Geraint. Was wondrin' when you'd show up," he said, his accent equally as dense as his companion's. I figured they were more from Somerset way since it was a lot stronger than even some of the most local of locals.

  "Hello, Gabriel." Ceri bowed his head slightly in a gesture of respect.

  "Whacha comin' 'ere for den? Iss bin wha', over a decade now? Notta word, notta phone cawl, not even a Chris'mass card?" Gabriel leaned back in his seat and folded his arms.

  The candlelight finally cast a pale glow on his facial features. He was about the same age as Ceri, perhaps a little older. His crooked nose looked as though it had been broken once but hadn't been set back in position, so was bent at a slight angle, and his jaw jutted forward a tiny bit, giving him a moderate overbite. He was clean shaven, and his raven hair was combed and neatly slicked in a college contour style, several loose strands falling across his deeply lined forehead. He wore a black smoking jacket that looked as though it had been repaired at one shoulder with the wrong colour thread, and under that there was the collar of a white shirt and a l
oose hanging silk tie patterned with tiny, galloping horses.

  When he brought his hands together on the table, I saw that his thick sausage fingers were adorned with chunky gold rings and a chain linked watch strap was twisted on his wrist. The strangest thing was that his hands were green a shade away from black, as though they had been stained by ink, and his discoloured fingernails were similar in colour. He was the complete opposite of what I had expected; I thought there'd be a hippie guy in a gown but instead I got someone who looked like he was part of the Sicilian mafia. I could sense tension in the air between him and Ceri, and I instinctively reached out for Ceri's hand, clasping it in mine as I stood at his side.

  "Thiss yer girlfriend?" Gabriel assumed with a toss of his head.

  Ceri nodded. I had never seen him look so afraid; his face had gone white as a sheet.

  "Pretty one, aincha." The dark-haired man smiled at me this time and I glared back, unafraid despite the ticking sensation of static in the air. "Ya done good, Geraint. She's a real catch, jus' like Wenda. Come to fink of it, ain't heard from her in awhile neither."

  "I don't want to talk about Wenda." Ceri cleared his throat and lifted his chin, but he still seemed apprehensive. The static in the air was starting to catch on every hair on my body, causing the fabric of my clothing to cling, but it felt as if it was coming more from Ceri than from the stranger in front of me. I hoped he wouldn't do anything rash.

  "So, what d'you wanna talk 'bout den? You don't jus' show up 'ere unannounced after 'ow many years wivout wantin' ta talk about summat. Why don't ya come an' sit down, yeah? Yer standin' there like yer gonna run out the door any second." Gabriel gestured to the chairs before us.

  We hesitated, and I glanced at Ceri for reassurance—more to reassure him than me—in the hopes that he would lead this meeting, and with a sigh and a slightly awkward smile, he urged me to go sit. Some of the tension that had been accumulating like a thunder cloud suddenly began to dissipate and I was unsure about what had been happening between him and Ceri. The strange static I had felt catching on my body hair started to fall away gradually. We moved forward tentatively, and Ceri pulled a chair out for me, waiting until I had seated myself gracefully before he sat down, too. The chair legs screeched on the floorboards as he shuffled it forward, close enough that he could rest his elbows on the table. A cluster of tea lights in the middle of the table flickered violently.

  "Well, umm—we've got this problem. We're hunting a werewolf, and...the trail's run cold. Was hoping you could, y'know, point us in the right direction," Ceri said after a moment of quiet. His legs were trembling under the table, so I gently put my hand on his knee to remind him I was here.

  Gabriel looked at him, his thick brows raising as he took in what had been said.

  "Well. Cassee thiss gonna be a long 'un. Yer Dog-End, ge' us a round." Gabriel sighed and reached into his jacket, taking out a battered wallet and fingering out a couple of notes.

  As Dog-End took the money from his outstretched hand, he turned and winked at me before heading out the door, closing it with a blunt slam behind himself.

  "Little problem, see. I ain't doin' Magick no more neither. Ya seen the sign on the door? Mediumship an' Tarot's my game now." He held out his hands, showing the paler green of his palms. "Ya see what I mean, eh? I ain't gonna end up livin' in a cave like Morcant. Gotta stop 'ere and now afore it gets too bad. Why can't ya do it yerself? Morcant's tole me woss been happ'nin' to ya. The stuff you was capable of."

  "I dunno what Morcant has said to you, but I've been trying to stay away from Magick for awhile. It's taken a lot of effort for me to come by yere. I can't do it; I can't seek it out through occult means. I hoped you could do it for me," Ceri said beseechingly.

  Gabriel hummed thoughtfully, procuring a tin from which he took a pre-clipped cigar and bit it between two rows of short, uniform teeth. He offered one to both of us, but we politely declined.

  "Violent 'un, issit?" he assumed as he used one of the tealights to set his cigar to smoking. "Yeah I seen the news a bit, weird shit goin' on."

  "Yeah, he's going about picking people off. I've found his other victims. There's five of them including Leona yere, and he's killed others. We gotta stop him otherwise he'll kill again," Ceri told him anxiously. "I'm only coming by yere for help because I've got nothing left. We gotta find him. But I can't do this alone now, I need your help."

  Gabriel blew a cloud of rich, fragrant smoke through his lips. "I can try. So woss 'appened 'tween you and yer ole goddess den? No good?"

  "No can do, not anymore. It's been too long without any tribute; she wouldn't give me the time of day," he confessed, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

  "Wiv or wivout Magick, ya can't abandon yer goddess," Gabriel remarked.

  "Well I got a new one, haven't I." Ceri made an apprehensive joke as he glanced at me, and I smiled back comfortingly, relieved that the tension that had been surrounding us minutes ago had reduced dramatically.

  Gabriel chuckled. "I can see dat." He blew out another plume of smoke and wiped his nose in the back of his hand. "Anyway, point is, I gotta treat ya like me other customers now, see. Ya got two options. I can ask one o' yer dead friends fer advice. Or I can ask me cards. Iss up t'you."

  "What about your god?"

  "Didn't fink ya were inta dat." Gabriel smirked, and when he glanced at me, he raised his eyebrows at me suggestively. I figured I probably didn't want to know what he was implying.

  "We all like a bit of that every now and again, but I don't think this is the right time for that sort of thing," Ceri murmured, his eyes half-closing as he looked across at the dribbling candles on the other side of the room.

  "What 'bout you, foxy lady?" Gabriel rested his chin in the palm of his stained hand as he gazed at me, causing me to wrinkle my nose.

  "Sorry, I'm taken," I glanced at him sideways, reluctant to look directly at him. Up close, his looks were softer, and he looked younger somehow. Even his churlish voice was starting to feel warm and inviting. I felt a faint blush creep into my cheeks.

  Gabriel licked his lips, but he didn't seem put off by rejection. He sucked on his cigar, turning his head so that his chin swivelled in the palm of his hand, allowing him to focus on Ceri instead.

  "I can't 'elp ya fer free neither. Ya gotta do somethin' in return," he told Ceri, although his eyes gazed at me still. I felt a wave of prickling creeping up my spine, causing a flourish of goosebumps to spread from my shoulders to my arms and the back of my neck.

  "Like what? I haven't got any money, if that's what you're asking?" Ceri questioned with a frown. He took his tin out of his leather jacket pocket and with the lid off, started thumbing a fresh lump of chewing tobacco. I could tell he was stressed before we'd even got in the door, and now he was trying to distract himself with his old habit.

  "Go back an' see Morcant, alright? He's missin' ya. 'Ow can you go round now an' not visit yer ole man, eh?" he reasoned, watching as Ceri pushed the tobacco into his cheek and replaced the lid on his tin. "If I was yer da', I'd be real pissed if ya was ignorin' me the way ya bin ignorin' 'im."

  "That's all?" Ceri didn't sound convinced. "You don't want any payment?"

  "Thass all," Gabriel agreed with a brief nod. His cigar had burned down far enough that he probably needed to tap it in an ashtray; instead, he ignored it as a clump of ash broke off and landed on the table's surface. "Oh—maybe ya can bring us a big ole chunk o' tha' Welsh cheese on yer way 'ome."

  "It's a deal."

  Ceri's hand enclosed mine under the table but I didn't feel it. I was too busy stealing brief glimpses of candle glow flickering in Gabriel's dark green eyes, sensing the animal desire that was starting to emanate from him towards me, curling around me the way his cigar smoke was. My whole body tingled, and I began to feel a bit weird, but I wasn't sure why. I was starting to get the idea that Gabriel was something to do with it because that familiar, faint scent of iron and sulphur had seeped into the air, and when I breathed deep
ly, it made me a little dizzy. I wondered if he was doing something to me, trying to sweeten my attitude towards him. Luring me the way Ceri had said he would. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and focused on Ceri's hand on mine, using it to anchor myself in reality.

  The loudness of the door opening distracted me as Dog-End knocked it ajar with his elbow, kicking it closed again before approaching the table with a tray in hand. There were three pints of cider standing upon it, and to my surprise, a G&T with a slice of lemon and lime. I stared at it, assuming that it was for me, and then Gabriel's face came into focus over the tops of the glasses and he gave me a mischievous wink. I was unsettled that he had somehow known that that was the drink I would have ordered, and I began to wonder if he could read my thoughts; if he was, what else did he know about me? I watched the three men lift their glasses of frothing cider, Ceri taking a sip first and sighing with relief.

  "So, uh, can your cards help us? Can they tell us where the werewolf is hiding?" he inquired as he set the glass back down on the table.

  "Issa bit more cryptic than wha' ya'd be used to, but we can figure it out. Ideally, I'd like ta do it wiv as many folks present, folks linked to this werewolf," Gabriel replied as he licked some cider from the corner of his mouth. "Ya got anyfink I can use? Personal possessions, photos, a name?"

  "We've got a name, a bunch of keys. Not a lot to go on, really. But three of the victims can be present." Ceri nodded, a small rise of enthusiasm twinkling in his eyes.

  "Not gonna try yer drink, Leona?" Gabriel turned his attention to me as I sat there stiffly, my face visibly red.

  "Oh—yes, all right." I snapped myself out of it. The three of them chuckled at me, even Dog-End who was standing several feet away with his pint in his hand.

  I made eye contact with Gabriel as I lifted the small, clear glass and brought it to my lips; the gin was good quality, smooth and delicate in flavour, and I wondered what brand it was as it slid down my throat. Watching me drink it seemed to bring him great pleasure as he continued to smile at me with a dangerous mix of desire and curiosity long after I had put the glass back on the table. I wasn't sure what was happening, but he seemed much more attractive now than when I had first laid eyes on him. It couldn't have been that they had spiked the drink because I had noticed it happening minutes before Dog-End had even returned to the room. Instead, I was becoming starkly aware of the desire swelling inside me, the captivating attraction in his eyes and the purr in his voice that roused something I was holding in reserve only for Ceri. I felt a combination of shame and anger at myself, willing myself not to like him.