Rough Sleepers

by Nem Rowan

  I sighed and closed my eyes.

  Somehow, I managed to drift off despite the noise in my head. It was a shallow sleep, though, so when I heard someone testing the handle of the car door, it roused me quickly, but apparently not quickly enough, because suddenly I felt the winter air blow in on my side before I had a chance to properly wake. In a flash, I grabbed onto the forearm of whoever was there and turned sharply, launching myself out of the doorway towards whoever was standing there, mainly with the intention of frightening the living daylights out of them. Instead, I was the one left feeling afraid when I found myself face to face with Darnel. In a swift turn, he spun and slammed me hard against the concrete wall we were parked alongside, thrusting his wrist under my chin as he pinned me to it. I wheezed, teeth clenched as I fought to breathe. The fact that he was so much younger than me did not mean he was weaker; quite the contrary, in fact. I tried to wrestle with him, but he held me there, steam puffing through his nostrils as he stared me down. I saw how they flared as he sucked in my scent, detecting my emotions and fears.

  "Let go of me!" I hissed through gritted teeth and tried to struggle free, but with my only hand preventing him from choking me completely, I had no other way of striking back.

  "Leon, innit?" he whispered, keeping his voice low. Ceri was still sleeping in the car, completely unaware of what was happening.

  "Yeah, so? What do you want?" I growled back. I was worried that if I woke Ceri and he got out of the car, Darnel would do something to hurt him.

  "I just wanna talk, yeah?" he replied. His voice had the smoothness of youth. Despite the glare in his eyes, I could imagine his kindness the way Chrissy had described to me. Being attacked by him felt so wrong.

  "Talk about what?"

  "You know what," he answered. "Do I have to spell it out for ya?"

  "Darnel, I don't wanna hurt ya, kid. You're gonna choke me to death, bleedin' heck," I complained, and he loosened his pressing on my throat, but he didn't release me.

  "Why won't ya come and be with me and Wallace?" he questioned, his fathomless brown eyes gazing into mine. The bruise he had suffered when we had last met was nowhere to be seen. I'd be fine so long as he didn't punch me like last time, too.

  "Are you kidding me? I'm sorry, I must be taking crazy pills or something. What on earth would make me want to go and be with Wallace?" I gasped, inching my fingers between his rock-solid forearm and the bulge of my Adam's apple. "Can't ya see what's wrong here?"

  "You're being ungrateful. He's giving us power, he wants us to be a family, and he wants us all to be stronger than before."

  "Oh yeah? Is that what he wanted for poor old Kelly Hayfield? Didn't seem like that to me." I turned my nose up at him.

  "What are you talking about?" he frowned, beginning to press harder on my throat again and causing me to wheeze loudly.

  "Kelly Hayfield...locked...in that shipping container..." I fought to get the air into my lungs, and I was relieved when he let the pressure off again.

  "What shipping container? I don't know what you're saying, don't be lyin' to me now." His frown soon turned into a scowl and I began to worry again.

  "You really don't know?" I questioned; I was genuinely surprised that he seemed to have no idea what I was saying. Perhaps I was wrong. It was possible that Wallace Reed had taken her on his own, and Darnel wasn't aware of what he was up to behind his back.

  "No, I don't. I think you're just saying shit to piss me off," he muttered.

  "Now, why would I do that, eh? Come on Darnel, you're a bright kid, you can figure it out. This ain't the right way to make a life for yerself, is it." I tried to reason with him this time. "What about Christine? You care about her, don't ya?"

  "Yeah I do." The aggression in his expression quickly faded, replaced instead with a sheepish adoration that he failed to mask from me.

  "She's worried about you. Just the other day, she was telling me what a nice guy you are. Nice guys don't take drag queens in chokeholds, do they? Come on, why don't you help us stop this. Wallace Reed is killing people. He's destroying people's lives, and the lives of their families," I pleaded with him, hoping that he would see sense. I could tell from his voice alone that he wasn't some gullible dunce, but then I didn't know how deep the brainwashing had gone.

  "No, you don't get it. You're the stupid one for not figuring it out already. We're Wallace Reed's family. He picked us because he said we deserve power. I deserve power," he told me, the determination in his words matching the sternness in his eyes. "For the first time in my whole life, I can do anything, be anything. No one can hurt me. I used to be so scared all the time and now I'm scared of nothin'. Don't you get it now?"

  "Sweetie, the only thing I was ever scared of happened to me when Wallace gave me this curse. My whole family is dead. Ya hear me? Dead. Because of what he's done to me. I don't want this power. Nothing good can come of it." I breathed, unable to stop myself from swallowing as I fought back my emotions.

  Darnel's resolve seemed to fail right in front of me. He let go of me, his arm slipping from my neck and falling to his side. "I'm sorry, man."

  I rubbed at my throat and pushed away from the wall so that I could stand properly, relieved that he had let go of me at last.

  "Yeah, well, now you see why we're trying to stop this. Won't ya come and help us? Don't you wanna go back to your family?" I held out my hand to him, but he ignored it.

  "I can't. I want to be a werewolf. I don't want to go back to being...weak. People respect me now, see? I don't want to lose that."

  "You can get people to respect you without tearing their spinal cords out. I know we come from different communities, but damn do I know how it feels to be treated like garbage by people, and let me tell you, being cursed like this only made it worse. I'm lucky I've got the friends I have." I began to feel exasperated as I watched all the feelings of inadequacy and self-deprecation accumulate behind his eyes. "If you wanna be able to take care of Christine, you're gonna have to let go of this crazy idea Wallace has put into your head."

  "No. He'll provide for us, he's our dad now. He'll make sure we're all right." he began to shake his head at me and I felt I was losing him fast. He started to step away from me and I found myself following instinctively.

  "Darnel! Come on, kid, listen to me!" I reached for his arm, but the movement was a trigger to set him to running and he turned swiftly, starting to hurry away along the edge of the pavement.

  "He's gonna get you! He's gonna come and get you when the moon comes!" he shouted over his shoulder as he fled, before breaking into a run and darting off under the orange circles of light that lined the frozen pavement.

  I clambered into the car and grabbed Ceri by his shoulders, unceremoniously shaking him awake until he groaned and wriggled under my hands.

  "...What! What is it!" he protested, his eyes opening to find me kneeling there.

  "Darnel's getting away!" I shouted into his face. It only took him a few seconds to register what I was saying as I pointed down the long stretch of road where in the distance a dark silhouette was escaping.

  It took a moment to get the engine running, and I barely had time to shut the door before he slammed the pedal down, the tyres screeching as the car roared forward across the black ice.

  "Why didn't you wake me!" Ceri exclaimed over the bellow of the engine.

  "I didn't think he was gonna run! I thought I could persuade him!" I cried as I bit at my fingernails. I had no idea what we intended to do when we caught up. We couldn't stop him in the car unless we mounted the pavement and ran the poor bugger over.

  Just as we got close, Darnel turned abruptly and took a narrow footpath between two buildings, forcing us to pass by towards a lit junction, but there was no traffic and we charged through, Ceri turning the car so sharply that it shrieked as if it was being tortured. It was only once we had passed onto the road on the other side of the block that we realised Ceri had made an illegal manoeuvre but fortunately there were no polic
e around to witness it. Darnel saw us coming when he hit the kerb and instead of crossing, he started running towards us, forcing Ceri to slam on the brakes and throwing me forward in my seat. My head hit the windscreen with a thud and I was tossed back down where I had been sitting, Ceri gasping as his seatbelt cut into his collar bone and cracked whiplash across his torso. Darnel leapt over the car bonnet and darted off down the desolate street, rapidly disappearing from view. I ignored the throbbing pain in my forehead, instead reaching for Ceri who was wheezing and sagging in his seat, only the tight band of his seatbelt holding him upright as he clutched at his chest.

  "Are you alright!" I practically screamed at him.

  "Bloody hell, a bell in every tooth, you have!" he waved me away lethargically.

  Embarrassed by how loudly I had reacted, I sank back in my seat and covered my fresh bump with my palm.

  "What was he doing by yere? Did you speak to him?" Ceri asked after a momentary pause. Headlights shined through the rear window suddenly, so I remained silent, waiting until he had pulled the car up on the kerb to let another pass by.

  "He said he wanted to talk," I answered, before explaining to him what had gone on in our conversation. Ceri hummed and wiped at his eyes with his fingertips.

  "Okay. Right. Maybe it's best that Gabriel is visiting tomorrow. I know this doesn't give us long before the next full moon, but maybe if this bastard does come for you then we'll have a chance to kill him," he murmured, before coughing into the back of his hand. I could smell blood on his breath but there was none to be seen and I hoped he was fine, that I was only worrying needlessly.

  "What about Kelly?" I mumbled, unsure if I wanted to know the answer.

  "Well, if we can't sort this out before she changes then I guess we can only wait and see what happens," he sighed, tilting his head back against his seat. "I think Gabby will come through for us, though. I'm pinning all my hopes on him."

  Twenty-Eight

  We waited in the basement. As had been asked for, Mecky had brought a large box of candles down and arranged them along the walls, setting a few in the centre of the room so that Gabriel would have adequate light to work by since electric lighting was not favoured by him. We carried some folding chairs down there too, and a cushion for Gabriel to sit on as he intended to seat himself on the ground where there would be plenty of room for him to spread out his cards. I took a duster to the many cobwebs that clung to the ceiling, mainly because I had a horror story in mind of how they could catch fire in the candlelight, even though Mecky said I was being paranoid. I'd rather not burn alive, thank you very much.

  It was midday, yet downstairs under the shop, the lack of windows would have you believe otherwise. The pull of the full moon was pressuring all of us, the intensity of her presence a force we were unable to ignore, and the animal glints in Mecky and Christine's eyes were becoming more and more apparent. I could only assume that the same was for my own, too. We, Ceri in particular, had come to accept that the likelihood of us finding Wallace before the full moon was near enough zero, and that Kelly was going to change whether we liked it or not. Whatever deaths resulted were not really our fault; we were doing all we could. Death was what Wallace wanted from us; it would isolate us, separate us from human civilisation, force us to band together as wolves.

  "I don't have to do anything, do I?" Christine asked as she sat on one of the chairs in the basement, her arms hugging one of the cushions Mecky had brought downstairs.

  "Of course not, sweetie. Just gotta sit here, watch the nice man do his work," I told her as I draped a fleece blanket round her shoulders to keep her warm, since she was still in her pyjamas.

  "I am thinking this is everything." Mecky sighed as she stood with hands on hips to survey her work. As I had expected, she had even brought snacks. What was a psychic party without something to munch on while you had your fortunes told?

  "It's fine, Mecky. We've done more than enough down here. What time is it?" I inquired as I moved to sit on a seat beside Christine. Today I was dressed in male clothing; I wondered what Gabriel Blake would make of that.

  "It's time. He is late." She pouted. She turned to head for the stairs, and that was when we heard a knock on the back door, which caused her to break into a jog as she hurried up the steps.

  "I think he's here now," Christine commented, pulling the blanket round herself. "Can you pass me the bowl of crisps?"

  I heard Ceri and Mecky's voices in the stock room above, and then came Gabriel's voice. I picked up his scent, and Dog-End's, too, before they even made it to the hatch doorway, so I wasn't at all surprised to see them together as they began to descend the steps. The artificial lights were still on; Mecky had a big box of matches, and she went around and started to light all of the candles as Ceri pulled the hatch door shut and came down into the basement with us. Dog-End eyed me for a moment, lingering behind his master before making a muted smile at me. I felt comfortable enough to smile back, but I dared not look at Gabriel, worried that he would do to me what he had done the night before. They were both dressed the same as when I had last seen them, and I wondered if they had even changed their clothes. Gabriel was carrying a medium-sized leather hold-all, and he placed the brown case down near the unlit candles in the centre of the room.

  "Is this all o' ya?" he questioned, turning to look at Ceri who had come to sit beside me.

  "Yeah, this is all of us. Those of us that are free to be present, anyway," he replied, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

  Gabriel nodded in acknowledgement. He looked down as Mecky lit his candles, smiling a thank you as she grinned up at him before standing and moving away. Dog-End had sat down on the floor a couple of metres away and was lighting a cigarette, the candlelight casting vivid orange highlights on his ginger hair. Mecky turned off the fluorescent lights, and the room grew dim, the shadows around us bobbing and jagged against the glow from the many flames. She hurried to sit down beside Ceri, the four of us in a row before Gabriel as he slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the ground. The fabric of his white shirt cleaved to his stocky, sturdy body, and when he rolled up his sleeves, I saw how hairy his forearms were and the way the green discolouration of his skin slowly dissolved towards his elbows. I caught him looking at me and he offered me a mischievous smile, but I turned my head away, choosing to ignore it. He sat down then beside his leather bag and crossed his legs, looking strangely out of place in his formal clothes.

  "I can't make no promises, alright? I'll see wha' I can do, but if nothin' 'appens, don't blame me," he remarked as he opened the hold-all and stuck his hand inside.

  "Not very reassuring for a psychic," Mecky answered with a smirk as she reached for the bowl of crisps that Christine was holding across us for her.

  "Well, thass the fing 'bout Magick. Sometimes it jus' don't werk. It ain't an exac' science. Sometimes it depends if the gods are smilin' on ya," he replied, but he didn't smile. He had taken a plain wooden box out of the bag and a sheet of purple silk, which he unfolded and spread out over the ground before him. "If I 'ad me athame and wazzup ta scratch, I'd show ya some fings that'd make yer skin crawl and the 'air on the back of yer neck stand on end, but those times're passed. So, you got some fings for me ta use then?"

  Ceri got up, stuffing his hand into the pocket of his jeans as he approached; he held out the bunch of keys, which Gabriel accepted carefully.

  "The man's name is Wallace Reed," he told him as he moved to sit back down. "Those are his keys; I pickpocketed them off him."

  "Nice one." Gabriel grinned, looking down at the cluster of twinkling metal in his palm. He placed them down beside the wooden box and rubbed his hands together, letting out a deep sigh as if to clear his throat. "All right. I'll need some quiet. Don't nobody int'rupt, all right?"

  There came a unanimous chorus of "Okay" followed by the sound of Mecky munching loudly. Gabriel looked at her briefly with an arch of one of his thick eyebrows before smiling to himself. He placed his hands
on his knees, sitting up with his back perfectly straight. For a moment, there was only silence; one of the candlewicks crackled and spluttered, the flame vibrating and giving off smoke before it cleared once more. I could feel electricity again, a spreading aura of prickling sensation rolling across the floor from where Gabriel was sitting, only it was different to last time. Much gentler, benevolent, platonic.

  "I fill this space wiv neutral energy. Let no spirits interfere. Let only those who wish ta aid me offer their guidance," Gabriel spoke, breaking the uneasy silence that had fallen over us.

  Another wick popped behind us, making Christine flinch and giggle as she shifted her chair closer to me, obviously feeling a bit spooked by what was happening.

  Gabriel's eyes opened, and he looked down at the bunch of keys before gently lifting them and holding them enclosed in his hands.

  "What's he doing?" Christine whispered to me and I hushed her by pressing my finger to my lips.

  The keys were placed at the top of the purple cloth, their metallic surfaces shimmering like a purse of silver coins. Gabriel reached for the box and flipped the hinged lid open so that he could lift out a silk-wrapped block from within, delicately unfolding the soft material to reveal a deck of rather worn-out looking cards. He put aside the cloth and held the deck in his palms as though warming it with his body heat, a contented smile on his face like he was meeting again with an old friend. We waited impatiently, urgent to see what was next.

  "I wish ta know who Wallace Reed is," he eventually said into the silence.

  Adjusting the position of the deck in his hands, he began to shuffle, the smooth scuffling of the cards loud over the murmur of the candle flames. Several seconds later, he stopped and split the deck open, selecting a card from the middle and snapping the two stacks together once more. He placed the card down on the cloth before him before turning it over.

  "The Chariot," he spoke as he looked up at us through his eyelashes, before focusing on the card once more. His eyes moved as he let them roam over the detailed illustration before him as though it held all the information he needed. "Wallace is a proud man, he's done a lot fer 'imself, undergone a lot o' self-transfermation to become who he wanted ta be. Pretty full o' 'imself, by all accounts, but tha' seems warranted considerin' 'ow well he's done fer 'imself. Lessee..."