by Helen Harper
After a month or two, the werewolves on our side were bored silly because no one was leaving and no one was entering; not a thing happened near the new wall and guarding the door was a fruitless, time-consuming task. We had more important things to worry about than a damned door. The guard post was abandoned and, as far as I was aware, few people inside Manchester gave the door another thought.
As a result, when I finally careened round to the door after cycling like my life depended on it, there wasn’t another living soul in sight. Not only that but the nearby trees, which had enjoyed magical growth spurts, seemed to have taken over the entire area. I cursed as I saw the gnarled tree roots and low-lying branches that now blocked the door. No-one was coming in or out – at least until the way was cleared.
‘Hang onto your hat, Lucy,’ I muttered.
The little shadow beast stirred behind me. I lifted off my backpack and placed it, and Lucy, some distance away for safety. I couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the wall. It had to be nearly six o’clock by now; if Fabian Barrett genuinely was coming in, I’d have to do something about those trees otherwise he wouldn’t be able to wedge open the door and wave in a hand.
I licked my lips and concentrated. In theory, I didn’t need much magic to obliterate the trees and clear a path; a few short sharp bursts would be enough. I was still breathing hard from my bike ride, however, and my body was trembling all over. I don’t know if that was from excitement or fear, or just because I needed a snack, but it was enough to put me off my game. When my fingertips prickled and I loosed the magic inside me, rather than a controlled trickle I sent out a wavering explosion.
The ground rocked. Lucy emitted a terrified squeak and wiggled out of the backpack before bounding to the bushes behind us for cover.
It didn’t help that it hadn’t rained for three weeks and the wood and surrounding undergrowth were bone dry. Within moments, the entire area was ablaze with green fire.
‘Shit.’ I glared at the scene as if I could alter what was happening merely through dirty looks. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ If I let things continue, it wouldn’t be long before the nondescript door itself would be aflame.
Jade-green tinged smoke was spiralling upwards into the sky. If Fabian Barrett – and anyone else – was standing on the other side of the wall, surely they’d decide to abandon their entry plans. Instead of improving the situation, I’d made it a hundred times worse. Go me.
The magical fire burned with such an intensity that it felt like my eyelashes were being singed off. Leaves crackled as the fire reached them. Tongues of flame leapt in all directions, licking towards me, towards the wall, towards anything in their path.
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, counting the seconds and forcing myself to stay calm. I could only bring the situation back under control if I were under control too. The trouble was that the more I tried to calm myself, the more anxious I became.
In the end I did the only thing I could do. I closed my eyes and imagined Monroe standing beside my shoulder. Instead of burning trees and the faintly sulphurous reek of magic, I imagined his pine-fresh scent. He leaned towards my ear, his Scottish brogue bringing sense to my world. I fancied I could feel his warm breath on my skin.
‘Stop fucking this up, sunshine,’ he said. ‘You’re better than this. You’re the enchantress. Even better, you’re my enchantress.’
I sucked in air one final time and opened my eyes, then I waved my hands in a cutting motion through the air, focusing on the green flames and the now-skeletal trees. Cease. You will cease.
There was a sizzle. Just as the door to the outside world opened and a figure appeared, the magic blew itself out, leaving piles of smouldering ash and only the odd surviving tree root for fifty yards on either side.
The effort had been immense. With the same swiftness as the fire was extinguished, the energy flooded out of my body. My knees gave way and I sank to the ground, relief and exhaustion mingling with trepidation. Then arms were picking me up and moving me away, dragging me from the site of devastation to a safer spot.
I lifted my head and stared at the five white figures around me. My vision was blurred and I gasped and shuddered. I shook off the hands that were gripping me and staggered to my feet. This wasn’t the time to show weakness.
I rubbed my eyes, blinked and managed to smile. ‘Fabian Barrett, I presume?’
The figure in front of me shook his head. As my bleary eyes righted themselves, I realised that the five people were all wearing head-to-toe hazmat suits. I snorted. Did they believe that clothing that was inspired, created and produced by technology was any match for magic?
Then I saw that three of the figures were carrying massive guns, holding them in such a manner that suggested they were poised to shoot. Not at me, I hoped. Not at anything.
I cleared my throat. ‘You don’t need those weapons here,’ I said. Using them might piss off a few of the shadow beasts or hell hounds but I doubted they’d do much harm. The monsters were too fast and too canny – and too damned magical – for guns to cause them a problem. Assuming those fancy-looking guns worked here.
From behind the transparent visor, a square-jawed face with features that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Action Man fixed on me. ‘Was the fire a warning or a welcome?’ he asked.
‘Neither,’ I said. ‘I was trying to clear a path so the door could open. I only just read your message. There wasn’t much time to prepare.’
He frowned at me, apparently trying to assess whether I was telling the truth. His companions ignored me and gazed out at the city. I couldn’t see their faces but, from their posture and their formation, they were searching for threats. Unfortunately, they didn’t have to search very hard.
There was a rustle from the bushes. A moment later Lucy came rushing out, her teeth bared. She’d puffed herself up so much that she was about twice her normal size. That didn’t mean much; she was now the size of a miniature schnauzer instead of a Yorkshire terrier. But that didn’t stop the white-suited bastards from raising their guns and shooting.
I screamed. The sound of gunfire echoed round us, filling the sky and causing birds to shriek and flap up in all directions. I tried to run forward but Action Man grabbed me and held me back. I wriggled against his grasp then magic burst forth from me yet again, shoving him backwards.
The shooting stopped only when I reached Lucy. I scooped her up into my arms and backed away, glaring at the group. Lucy was shaking with what felt like fury rather than fear. I’d been right – the bullets hadn’t damaged her at all – but it didn’t make the actions of those bastards any easier to swallow.
‘If that’s how this is going down,’ I yelled at them, clutching Lucy to my chest, ‘then the whole lot of you can turn round and leave the way you came. We don’t shoot first and ask questions later. You’re visitors in my land and you will respect my rules!’
My hair whipped from side to side as I shouted. I was well aware that I probably looked like a grubby wild thing but I didn’t care. Supplies or no supplies, I wasn’t having these pricks come here and ruin my peace. I’d fought too damn hard for it.
The door opened again and yet another hazmat-covered figure appeared. This one was white, like all the others, but orange tape round his head and his body marked him out from the rest. He wasn’t carrying a heavy backpack like his companions either. Ah-ha.
The other men sprang backwards, surrounding him in an instant.
‘It isn’t safe, sir!’ one of them barked. ‘You must return to the other side!’
‘What were you shooting at? What is the problem? Report!’
‘Some kind of monster. And a blue-haired female.’
‘Human?’
‘Undetermined.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh,’ I said sarcastically, ‘haven’t you heard? The blue-haired brigade have taken over Manchester. This city is ours now. We are one, yet we are legion.’
‘Move,’ muttered orange-tape
man from the back. The other figures parted and he stepped forward, maintaining a distance but staring closely at me. When I saw his face it confirmed what I already knew: here, finally, was Fabian Barrett himself.
I tilted my head. Huh. There was an odd aura clinging to him. Unlike the pure blue of magic which I normally saw, Fab Barrett had a definite tinge of dirty purple. My forehead creased and I glanced quickly at the other men. They didn’t appear to have any aura at all.
Before I could think any more of it, however, the billionaire opened his mouth to speak. ‘Who are you?’ he asked softly.
‘My name is Charley,’ I said. ‘Around here, I’m also known as an enchantress.’ And then, because I decided I wanted to be rude after what had just happened, I asked, ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Fab. I’m also known as a geek out there.’ He smiled, displaying expensive, even teeth that were so white they almost rivalled the hazmat suits. Geeks didn’t have teeth like those. Neither did they have nut-brown tanned skin and walk into apocalyptic cities with their own miniature armies. I would play along, however. At least for now.
‘I’ll tell you what I told them,’ I said. ‘Guns aren’t welcome here. Either lose the weapons or get lost yourselves.’
His sharp hazel eyes watched mine. Although his hazmat suit was no doubt top of the range and had a handy breathing filter, the visor already seemed to be fogging up. I imagined that he would get very tired very quickly. I’d bet that Fab was intending this to be a short visit. However, from the barely visible flicker on his face, it seemed that he enjoyed being challenged. I supposed you didn’t rise to the position of world-famous billionaire by shying away from difficult situations.
He raised his right hand. ‘Do it,’ he said.
‘Sir…’
‘Now.’
His gun-toting entourage glared at me in turn, as if this were all my fault. The one who’d grabbed me walked forward and collected the weapons. He carefully took them, walked to the door, opened it, laid them down and returned. I craned my neck, wondering what I’d see outside but there was nothing except a dark shadow. That figured.
Fabian Barrett clocked my attempt to peer outside. ‘Do you want to leave?’ he asked. ‘Because if you do, I can make that happen.’
I returned my gaze to his. Something about his self-importance irked me. If I wanted to leave, I’d make it happen myself. I didn’t need his help. ‘If I leave,’ I said shortly, ‘I can’t return.’ Then I remembered that right now I needed him more than he needed me and I softened my voice. He was only trying to be nice. ‘But I appreciate the thought.’ I squinted. ‘Just how long is the quarantine period these days? Assuming anyone leaves the city.’
His eyes shifted. ‘It’s under negotiation.’
I didn’t break eye contact. ‘How long?’
‘Thirty-six months,’ he admitted.
Huh. It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought – in fact, I now owed Carter, the vampire barman who ran the Blood and Bones, a hefty week’s rations. I’d reckoned it would be closer to ten years rather than three, and had bet him as such. Still, I felt vaguely pleased that the British government were only moderately terrified of the magic instead of completely petrified of it. Of course, I didn’t think that the prospect of three years in quarantine would encourage anyone to leave. Until our food ran out completely, not even a mere three days would achieve that.
Fab smiled, giving the impression that it was an artless and yet wholly genuine expression. I suspected he’d mastered it with the help of some sort of body-language coach. ‘It’s my turn to ask a question,’ he said. ‘How many people are here? How many have survived?’
Give or take a few natural deaths, some unfortunate accidents, three incidents involving the Canal Monster and the killings caused by Albert, the manipulative bastard who’d posed as a therapist, everyone had survived. I estimated that our attrition rate wasn’t any better or worse than on the outside. ‘Just under twenty thousand souls,’ I told him.
‘Bullshit,’ one of his men muttered.
Fab looked irritated and waved a hand at the man to tell him to shut up. ‘Are the other twenty thousand nearby?’ he asked.
Unlikely. I smiled back at him. ‘Nope.’ I tickled Lucy under the chin and she purred. ‘Why are you here?’ I enquired. I tried to make my tone light but there was a lot riding on his answer.
He hesitated. ‘Plenty of people have asked me that question over the last few days and I haven’t answered them honestly. You, however, deserve better than a lie.’ His jaw tightened. ‘The truth is that I have a lot of money and a lot of power. What I don’t have is a legacy. I want to be remembered – and not just through charitable donations or for starting the most profitable company the world has ever seen.’
‘You want to go down in history as the person who saved a city,’ I said.
‘I do.’
I examined his face. As far as I could tell through his somewhat obscured hazmat visor, he was telling the truth. He was effectively admitting the size of his ego as well. I could admire that.
I chewed the inside of my cheek and considered the options. I could tell him to turn round, leave and to return only when he brought the supplies that we needed. Then I’d make him the damn Mayor of Manchester, if that’s what he wanted. But we needed to think long term. There were smarter ways to play this and I wasn’t about to trust Fabian Barrett just yet.
Besides, this wasn’t about me. There were thousands of us in the city and I had to think about everyone. The one thing I couldn’t do was to antagonise the billionaire. If we were both going to get what we wanted, we’d both have to play nice. He was doing a good job of that so far. I could do better.
‘I’m sorry I shouted at your guys,’ I said. I looked beyond Fab to the surly group. ‘I’m sorry,’ I told them. ‘The guns scared me. Such violence is unnecessary.’ I held up Lucy so that Fab could get a better look at her. ‘This is Lucy,’ I said. ‘She’s a baby. She might well grow up to be a thing of horror. Her mother was certainly … problematic. But right now there’s no reason to be afraid of her.’
Lucy opened her mouth. I was afraid that she would hiss or spit or, worse, lunge at the billionaire and tear the hazmat suit that he seemed so fond of. I should have given her more credit. Instead of appearing threatening, she let out a delicate yawn and blinked lazily. Even the gunless goons seemed cowed by her cuteness and their stern expressions behind their visors softened a little.
‘What is she?’ Fab asked, fascinated.
‘We call them shadow beasts.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know what they really are. They arrived here not long after the magic did.’
He dragged his gaze away from Lucy back towards me. ‘That’s what you call it then?’ he asked. ‘Magic?’
I moved Lucy under my arm and raised my free hand up towards the sky then I released another quick jet of magical fire. I was more controlled this time – and I was most definitely showing off. All six men leapt backwards and gaped. I grinned. ‘What would you call it?’
Fab didn’t answer for a long moment. At first I thought it was because he was stunned by my little show. It wasn’t until he spoke that I realised there was another reason.
‘Out there,’ he said, pointing towards the door, ‘we call it the Plague.’
Chapter Ten
I only had the one bicycle. I wheeled it along the road while we walked, a pre-arranged formation developing around Fab in order to keep him safe. It was remarkably slow going due to their cumbersome hazmat suits but I knew better than to suggest they take them off. Not now I’d been told that this city – my city – was plague-ridden.
I felt an almost overwhelming desire to strip off and point out to each and every one of these bastards that I wasn’t covered in suppurating boils and that I wasn’t disease-ridden. Except they already knew that. And they weren’t bastards, they just didn’t live in Manchester. They didn’t know the whole truth.
I decided grimly that I would show them what things
were really like, that they should want to be here rather than running away to safety beyond the wall.
Unfortunately, walking through the empty streets with strangers in tow made me see what I’d become immune to. It was a long time since I’d paid attention to the burnt husks of old cars or to the skeleton-like buildings with their shattered windows.
Fabian Barrett might have given the impression that he was interested but relaxed, but his men looked horrified. It didn’t help that they jumped at every shadow and paused every few minutes to tap in annoyance at their expensive equipment that was no longer working in this new, magical atmosphere. They were particularly disturbed by the fact that their radios wouldn’t emit a single, garbled crackle. It seemed odd to me that they kept trying; there was something mechanically rote about their actions.
‘Two cups and a piece of string will do you more good,’ I said, in a bid to be cheerful when one of them cursed at his walkie-talkie for the twentieth time.
Fab glanced at me. ‘So anything technological doesn’t work then?’ he guessed.
I shrugged. ‘Anything that doesn’t rely on computers or signals from outside is generally okay. Older cars sometimes work, although we’re running out of petrol. Battery-operated equipment works, so we have torches that we can use at night time. We’ve been developing generators so we can have some electrical power. They’re temperamental and don’t tend to stay on for long, but we’re learning and getting better. We’re also adapting. We don’t really need the internet or mobile phones or Netflix after all.’
‘All the same,’ he said, ‘it must be hard to suddenly live without the technology you’ve always relied on.’ What was left unspoken was that a lot of that technology was developed by his company.
