The Children Of The Mist

by Jenny Brigalow

  And he would not blame her. Given the same opportunity, Zest could not be sure that he would choose a different path. Morven had Become. She was Vampyre.

  And he was Werewolf.

  And history had a horrible way of repeating itself.

  Chapter 29

  As the world flashed by Morven’s emotions seesawed uncomfortably. It was as if she were struggling to reconcile two different people. Two different sets of needs and wants. Two entirely opposite sets of standards.

  She was not sorry she had Become. How could she be? It was like she’d finally grown into a pair of poorly-fitting pants. And it felt great. Like she was reborn and just starting to evolve. There was this amazing sense of anticipation. The world shimmered before her, filled with a tantalising promise of things yet to come. It was like she’d joined the ranks of the superheroes. Who, in their right mind, could diss that? Not Morven Smith, Batgirl.

  But Batgirl was still Morven Smith. And Morven couldn’t easily dismiss sixteen years of loving and living. Despite her high, a shadow lay across her heart. Soon she must leave. And there was the problem. Why couldn’t she be Batgirl Down-Under? Get a night job. Skate. Hunt with Zest and Dog. And really get into Halloween. It wasn’t fair.

  Suddenly the landscape felt dear to her. She could even squeeze out a few atoms of fondness for school. Even The Midget. And then there was home. She’d never really thought about it before, but the high-rise apartment was neat with its modern lines and the constantly changing view of the river. And what about the skate park? Really cool. Bet they didn’t have anything as great in Scotland. She’d seen it on TV. It was a dreary, crowded, grotty kind of place. Lots of murder, too. The soft scent of gum blossom drifted on the wind. No gum trees in Glasgow. Probably no trees at all. And they spoke a foreign language.

  Foreign. That was the word for it alright. Except, of course, so was she, really. A kind of cuckoo. Dumped in someone else’s nest. What kind of crap parents did that anyway? Vampyre parents, that’s who. And there was the snag. Despite it all, she was filled with an irresistible urge to find them. Her living DNA. Did she have brothers and sisters? Aunts and uncles? Cousins and grandparents? Maybe she had a whole family forest out there. Somewhere. Anyway, if she tracked them down they’d be in for a thorough interrogation. She’d probably demand compensation. Why not? It was the thing to do these days.

  But still. Her mum and dad were waiting out there, fighting the forces of evil and plotting to smuggle her out of harm’s way. And she wondered how the hell she’d manage without them. Her sweet, kind, generous parents. Fear gripped her then. Were they alright? Maybe she should phone. But what if she did and their phones were all bugged. It wasn’t impossible. No, she’d just have to be patient. They were smart. And resourceful. They’d be okay. They had to be.

  And deep, deep in her brain, something primeval reared its head and hissed. It was impossible to suppress the burst of sheer, unadulterated fury triggered by the threat to her family. She’d killed once for someone she loved. Second time round it would be easier than licking the icing off a cake.

  So, inevitably, she came full circle. Someone she loved. She glanced at Zest. He was standing almost on the edge of the carriage. The wind rippled through his hair and worried at his shirt, but otherwise he was still. Morven’s heart melted like warm molasses. He was gorgeous. Even in the dark, cloudy night, Morven could see perfectly. The generous mouth, the strong neck and broad back. He looked like an ad for healthy living. She guessed it was the muted effect of the moon. She glanced up, half hoping to see the cloud thinning, but the sky remained pregnant with the promise of rain. In his full wolf form, Zest was awesome. Seven feet of black, furry bad ass. She sure was glad he was on her side.

  She ran the words through her brain once more. On her side. Inside, she glowed. She knew for sure that he had strong feelings for her. You didn’t need to be a vampyre to figure that one out. But the knowledge was stained with unhappiness. Just when it seemed that things were miraculously about to happen, fate conspired against her. It seemed wrong to pursue her natural inclinations when life was so uncertain. She had to go away. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen. Where she’d be in a day or a week. When she’d be back. Indeed — if she’d be back. While she knew Zest would come with her in a heartbeat of her asking, she couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fair. And she knew she’d never leave if her parents were without his protection.

  But the thought of leaving him behind was like poking a finger into an open wound. Agony. But there didn’t seem to be any easy answers. In the end, she realised that she had to do this thing on her own. That it was only possible if Zest and Dog were on guard duty. When she came home, things would be different. Everything would just have to go on hold until that time. For a moment she felt a twinge of panic. What if Zest met someone else while she was away? What if she wasn’t the only one? It wasn’t impossible that in some other school, in some other ‘burb, another innocent was waking up. If she made it home and found some other bat-person with their hooks into Zest she’d be a tad pissed. To say the least. Still, it didn’t seem likely. But you never knew.

  Zest broke the silence. ‘Morven, this is our stop.’

  Morven realised he was right. Consumed with her mojo, she’d failed to keep tabs on the lay of the land. Close by, the lights of the city winked and blinked in the darkness. The express train slowed as it pulled into the railway yard. A labyrinth of metal tracks and idle engines. Dog leapt first, landing lightly on the roof of an old diesel locomotive. Zest followed a nano-second later. Without conscious effort, Morven followed. They stood silently until the train wound its way toward the station. Morven could hear the metallic voice-over of the stationmaster, and hear the soft sigh and shuffle of waiting passengers. The dank smell of the river wafted overhead, and far above bats flew softly into the night.

  Zest looked at his watch. ‘It’s eight. We’ve got an hour.’

  Morven patted Dog, who waited patiently, his brown eyes following this snippet of conversation. ‘What do you think we should do? Go to the park and stake it out?’

  Zest ran a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. ‘No, let’s go see Zach.’

  ‘Zach! Honestly, Zest, you’ve only just eaten. You can’t possibly be hungry already. This is not the time for a snack.’

  ‘I’m not hungry. I just think you should talk to him.’

  Morven was confused. She liked Zach and all, but she didn’t feel like burgers or conversation. ‘Zest, I’m not being rude, but I’m not in the mood.’

  Zest looked at her then, his green eyes strangely hard, like uncut gems. ‘You will be, when you hear what he’s got to say.’

  It was the first time that Morven could ever recall feeling uneasy in her friend’s company. There was something unfamiliar about him. Suddenly he seemed older, harder, more distant. There was a grim set to the lines of his face. Not a dimple in sight. Well, she didn’t like it. ‘I don’t want to see Zach.’

  ‘You have to.’ There was a rough edge to his voice. An underlying growl of something that suggested the beast.

  Morven’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to. You don’t scare me, Wolfie. I licked you arm-wrestling. You really wanna rumble?’

  Zest turned away, and his broad shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t wanna argue with you, Morven.’

  And then she understood. Zest wasn’t angry, he was upset. For a moment she wavered indecisively but then walked up behind him, slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back. ‘Zest, what’s wrong?’ The aroma of aniseed seeped out of one of his back pockets.

  He stiffened and she thought he was going to shrug her off and walk away. But he remained where he was. ‘Morven, you remember that I told you I don’t know anything much about your kin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t entirely truthful. Fact is, I do know a bit. Just didn’t want to tell you.’

  Morven was stumped. How strange. ‘Why?�
��

  He turned around then and looked down at her. ‘Because you think we’re the same. Well, we’re not.’

  ‘Zest, I know we’re not, like — twins. But you and me, we’re like — magic!’

  He closed his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you knew.’

  ‘Shit, Zest, knew what for God’s sake?’

  But he shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you. You gotta talk to Zach.’

  Morven was frustrated and hurt. ‘Who the hell is Zach, anyway?’

  ‘He’s the Mythmaker.’

  Well that was helpful — not. ‘What the hell is a Mythmaker?’

  But her words fell on air. Zest was on the move. Morven had no choice but to follow. Looked like she was going to have a chat with Zach after all.

  Chapter 30

  Zest gave Morven no opportunity to interrogate him further. He moved at a furious pace, Dog loping easily at his heels. Morven, consumed with both a vague, formless feeling of unease, and raw curiosity, followed.

  It didn’t take long before they’d crossed the river and entered into the heart of the city. Surrounded by a surging torrent of humanity, it took Morven a few moments to adapt to the overload of sensory information that rushed to her brain. She wasn’t utterly comfortable. For now she could tell stuff about people that ordinarily would be hidden. For instance, she knew that the smart, dark-haired woman in the suit was practically pickled in alcohol. And that the young boy holding his mother’s hand was sick. Very sick. And she knew that one of the young women they passed was checking out Zest, and that her intentions were not honourable. Not that she planned to tell Zest, of course.

  So absorbed was she that Morven barely registered her surrounds, except on a subliminal level. Until a flush of cold air surged out of the automatic doors of a big hotel. Morven stopped, although she wasn’t quite sure why. She looked into the great marble and glass foyer. What? What had snagged at her subconscious? Vaguely she heard Zest call her name, but she just couldn’t prise herself away. And then she had it. To the left of the lobby was a black grand piano. A glossy, flash affair. But that was not what excited her. Settled on a plush red rug, just to the right of the piano, was a harp. Something shifted and softly subsided in Morven’s chest.

  Like an arrow released she walked through the doors, across the lobby and looked up at the harp. Almost as tall as her, the long timber structure was elaborately carved with cherubs and angels. With a soft sigh she settled down upon a small stool. Her hands reached out and caressed one long taut string. A single note resonated through the room. And Morven began to play. It was a melody from the past, sad but beautiful, that filled her head with a wilderness of trees and high, mist-wreathed mountains. It was a place that seemed familiar, although reason told her that her feet had never traversed the rugged tors and leafy glades.

  Her eyes snapped open and icy rage engulfed her. She eyed the sweaty hand clamped around her wrist with cold contempt. ‘Get your grubby paws off me,’ she hissed.

  The concierge leant down into her face. He smelled like gherkins. His hand tightened. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out, you scruffy little dirtbag.’

  Morven’s eyes narrowed. A dirtbag? How rude. ‘Or what?’ she said disdainfully.

  ‘I’ll call the police and have you arrested.’

  Morven laughed. ‘What for, you stupid little man? Playing a harp without a licence?’

  The concierge’s mouth flapped a couple of times. ‘For…trespass.’

  Morven stood up slowly. Oh, this was just priceless. Someone was way too big for his shiny shoes. Definitely needed a lesson in common courtesy. Oh boy, she’d enjoy putting him in his place. She turned and looked thoughtfully at the piano. It’d be a tight squeeze, but she thought she could fold him up enough to make him fit.

  ‘Morven!’ In the doorway with Dog stood Zest. And he didn’t look happy. ‘Morven, come on. We gotta go.’

  Damn, but he was right. She shouldn’t have come in. And making a scene was not an option. They’d got enough trouble as it was. Reluctantly she turned and retraced her footsteps. Zest said not a word, turned and pushed on through the crowd. Morven felt bad and wished she could explain the impulse that had driven her to such a bizarre act. When they got to Zach’s, she’d make him listen. The burger stand wasn’t far.

  When they finally turned down the road to the park, Morven wasn’t sure whether she should be pleased or not. But it didn’t matter. They were there. Outwardly the place looked the same. People walking idly down the avenue, chatting, laughing or holding hands. Others sat at tables eating, while a small queue waited patiently at the van’s front. The aroma of frying onion and sizzling steak wafted on the breeze. A solitary drop of rain plopped like a sliver of ice onto Morven’s bare arm.

  Dog barked and took off. People paused and looked around. Some smiled as the big, black dog raced to the van and jumped up to peer over the counter. A second later, Zach’s face appeared and looked at them. And then disappeared out of view. Dog dropped back to the ground and trotted around the side. Morven followed Zest to the small rear door.

  Zach had the door open before Zest could knock. ‘Just give me a minute,’ he said.

  Morven looked questioningly at Zest. But then she heard Zach making apologies, the chink and rustle of money and finally a loud bang as the window slammed shut. Zach had closed up shop.

  The old man was back in half a minute. ‘Come in,’ he said.

  Zest followed Dog, and Morven followed Zest into the van. It was a squeeze. Zest turned a milk crate over and perched on it, while Dog collapsed on the floor. Zach smiled at Morven, the furrows of his face deepening, and pulled a low stool out from the other side of the deep fryer. After a moment’s hesitation she settled herself down. It was so low, her knees were dangerously close to her eyes. Zach pulled a box out from beneath the counter and sat, too.

  Zach looked at them all silently. He had pale blue eyes. The colour of a dawn sky. Morven realised that he was tall. Taller even than Zest. But thin. Almost frail. In sharp contrast, his collar-length hair was thick and black, as were his eyebrows. As if all his energy had contrived to live on top of his head. His hands were slender and covered in blue veins that wiggled like snakes as his fingers tapped rapidly on his knees. No matter how hard she tried, Morven couldn’t begin to guess his age, other than to feel that he was old.

  Zach reached into the baggy pocket of his brown tweed jacket and drew out a pipe. With economical movement he lit it and puffed vigorously, sending sweet-smelling rings of smoke drifting into the air. His pale eyes settled on Morven and he smiled again. It was a kind smile and Morven couldn’t help but smile back.

  Zach pulled the stem of the pipe out of his mouth, let out a long sigh and looked at Zest. ‘Did you know?’

  Zach glanced at Morven and away again. ‘I suspected. Well, hoped, really. But I didn’t really know, not till she got sick.’

  Morven was transfixed.

  Zach took another long pull on his pipe. Morven watched as smoke came pouring out of his nose, and (she could have sworn) his ears. ‘What does she know?’

  Zest’s eyes followed the path of a particularly large smoke ring. ‘Not so much.’

  Zach sniffed. ‘And you want me to enlighten her?’

  Morven felt pissed about being talked over. Was she invisible? She stood up. ‘Well, someone had better enlighten me pretty damn quick, or I’m out of here.’

  Zach looked at her then. ‘Ah, forgive me, Morven. I forget my manners. But we have little time. Let me introduce myself. I am The Mythmaker.’

  Morven was sick of riddles. ‘Whatever.’ She looked at her watch. It was twenty past eight. ‘I hate to be rude, but I’m a bit pressed for time. Could you please come to the point?’

  Zach nodded. ‘I am what you could call a…literary agent. But mine is a very specialised clientele. A clientele that prefer to live in total privacy. Unseen, unheard, unrecorded. So, it is my job to ensure that any inklings of their existence a
re relegated to the annals of history as myth and legend. There, but not there, if you see what I mean.’

  Morven wasn’t quite sure she did see. Perhaps her confusion passed on, for the old man continued.

  ‘Take your own kind, for example. The Vampyrie. Think of Count Dracula. Such a story. So scary, so disturbing. But still, just a story, after all. Or so it is thought. But in reality, they exist, as you know only too well. Intelligent, resourceful, incredibly resilient, they have carved out a niche for themselves among the power brokers of this globe. In the shadows they thrive. Securely hidden between the pages of a book. Cleverly camouflaged generation after generation in myth and legend.’

  Morven was entranced. It was brilliant. ‘So, you mean, all the stories about vampyres exist for the sole purpose of, well…deleting them from reality?’

  Zach snapped his fingers and grinned at Zest. ‘She’s quick.’ He turned back to Morven. ‘Yes, precisely. Every vampyre book published is part of a carefully controlled program.’

  Morven glared at Zest. ‘Why couldn’t you tell me?’

  Zest shook his head. ‘Tell her the rest, Zach.’

  Dog lurched to his feet and paced toward the door, click, click, clicking on the lino. The black fur on his back stood up in a thick ridge. His lips curled back, showing pink gums and big white teeth. And he let out a low rumble of protest.

  Zach stood up. ‘Sounds like we’ve got company.’

  Chapter 31