by Stephen Cole
Kate shot Tom a despairing glance. ‘So, Ramone, you were going to tell us—’
‘I told you the ’wolves were recruiting,’ he announced abruptly. ‘Takapa. His people are taking the street-kids, the gangs, the hobos – all the pissed-off poor people in this city – and turning them ’wolf.’
‘Turning them against each other,’ Jasmine added quietly, slipping a handful of ice cubes into a bowl. ‘Breaking old ties, old loyalties.’
Kate looked at her. ‘And these people agree to being … recruited?’
‘A lot of them do. Ain’t no one else offering them nothing.’ Jasmine smiled sarcastically, showing the gap in her front teeth. ‘Guess a pretty white girl like you don’t know what it’s like to be invisible. To spend whole days begging for quarters while people step over you on the sidewalk like you’re just trash.’
‘You don’t know anything about me and my life,’ Kate said icily, her green eyes flashing.
‘Reckon I know enough just by looking.’ Jasmine turned and disappeared through the green curtain. She came back holding a battered square tin, and took out some band-aids, cotton wool and bandages. ‘What’re you two even doing here, slumming it with us?’
‘Lay off,’ Ramone told her. ‘They running from the howlers like we are.’
‘Takapa had captured us both, but we got away,’ Tom explained. ‘He wants us. Bad.’
Jasmine fell quiet. Her wide brown eyes seemed just a touch wider.
Tom found himself grimly satisfied at a point scored.
‘What’d you do to piss off Takapa?’ she demanded.
‘Oh … stuff …’ Kate said levelly. ‘Probably safer for you if you don’t know.’
Suddenly Tom sensed movement behind him. Cicero pushed past him to grab a beer off the table. He twisted off the cap with his bare hand, then took a long swig and strutted back out, winking at Kate as he did so.
‘Looks like it ain’t just Takapa who might want you, girl,’ Jasmine murmured.
‘So these kids that Takapa’s agents are approaching,’ Kate said, swiftly changing the subject, ‘they actually want to be ’wolf?’
Ramone shrugged. ‘They don’t got much choice.’
‘You seem to have made your choice,’ Tom said. ‘And screw Takapa.’
‘There’s nine of us here. Nine kids.’ Ramone was looking at Tom like he knew nothing. ‘We used to be a gang of almost thirty. This whole building used to be ours, not just one lousy storey.’
Jasmine wrapped the ice in a cloth and passed it over to Ramone. ‘Some moved away when Swagger came calling the first time. And some ran out on us to take up with him and the howlers.’
Kate frowned. ‘Swagger?’
‘He’s running things till Takapa moves back for good,’ said Ramone, grimacing as he held the ice to his swollen ankle. ‘So he says.’
‘Swagger couldn’t care less about us at first,’ Jasmine went on. ‘We weren’t a threat. Weren’t nothing. Then Ramone started stirring. Tried to get some of the gangs together to stand up to Swagger.’
Tom nodded grimly. ‘And so suddenly you became a threat. And I guess you can’t go to the police, get their protection?’
‘Nah. Just like you can’t.’ Ramone looked at him pointedly. ‘’S’why so many are getting turned now. These kids know they’ll get it worse from the cops than they will from the ’wolves. They running from home, they running from this and from that … nowhere to go.’
‘And no one to turn to,’ Kate murmured. ‘So they just give up and take that bite.’
Jasmine shook her head. ‘These people, they’ve felt weak all their lives. If they choose Takapa, they get strong overnight. Then they’re not victims no more. They’re the hunters.’
Tom shuddered.
Kate was baffled. ‘What is Takapa doing?’ she questioned. ‘Traditionally, the lupine community has always been careful about who it turns; who is chosen to continue family lines. If numbers swell indiscriminately, the community risks drawing attention to itself. But Takapa doesn’t seem to care about any of that.’
‘Maybe he knows he’s not going to get the traditional lupines behind him,’ Tom suggested.
‘So he’s building his own power base here – however he can?’ Kate nodded. ‘Maybe. But Jasmine, you said he was turning the ’wolves against each other?’
‘That’s the word out there,’ Jasmine replied. ‘I’ve heard that sometimes, they all get together and fight. A fight to the death.’
Tom stared at her. ‘But why?’
‘Hey!’ shouted Rico from the next room. ‘The pretty white girl’s on TV!’
Tom and Kate stared at each other.
‘Come see, come see!’ yelled Rico.
They went through to the smoky fug of the TV room. Someone had flicked channels to the news. The mute symbol shone bright and blocky in the top right of the screen, obscuring Kate’s picture.
Tom felt the blood drain from his head. He stumbled forward, stepping over people and pillows to get closer to the TV. Now his parents’ faces were filling the screen. The camera pulled back to reveal they were seated on a rostrum at what looked like a press conference or something.
Beside them sat Hal and Marcie Folan, Kate’s parents.
He heard Kate swear. ‘Jesus, what is this?’
‘Puff, hit the volume,’ Ramone snapped.
‘… Anderson, originally believed to have drowned near Seattle in mid-August in a tragic accident, and Seattle resident Kate Folan are both wanted for questioning in connection with a double homicide in New Orleans.’
Two faces were flashed up, a broad-faced Inuit type and a shrivelled old man. Tom felt his world tilt. Both men were in the pay of Takapa. Together, they’d nearly killed Tom. But Kate’s mother had arrived on the scene just as Tom had started to fight back. She’d killed both men so she could have Tom herself – and he’d only escaped with his life thanks to Adam Blood joining the fight.
But clearly Marcie was now putting her murders to further use.
The TV cameras came in for a close-up on Marcie and Hal. Flash bulbs popped and glared from the front rows of the conference.
‘Whatever you’ve done, whatever drove you to do it,’ Marcie said, her voice studiedly weak with false emotion, ‘Tom, Kate, we ask that you give yourselves up now …’
Hal nodded. The grief on his face looked real enough.
As Marcie looked straight into the camera, Tom felt like she was staring directly into his own eyes. ‘The consequences, should you not, will be so much worse,’ she continued. Another flash went off, but Tom knew that wasn’t the cause of the unmistakable spark of gold that spun through Marcie’s eyes. ‘And you have to know your parents need you here.’
A different camera, placed more to the side of the rostrum, zoomed in on Carrie Anderson, Tom’s mom. He hadn’t seen her for three months but she seemed to have aged about ten years. She looked grey and haggard.
‘Tom,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know how we can survive this unless you come back to us soon, baby.’
Marcie moved into the shot, placed a comforting hand on Carrie’s shoulder.
And with a casual glance at the camera, she licked her lips.
g
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CHAPTER THREE
The news anchorman rounded things up by announcing the pair were rumoured to be in New York City.
‘That was cool!’ whooped Rico. ‘You’re, like, famous!’
Tom turned to Kate. ‘Jesus! What the hell do we do now?’
Deathly pale, Kate looked at him. Her eyes were glassy with tears. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied, her voice coming out brittle and high. ‘I don’t know what we do now.’
‘Mom and Dad thinking I was dead was bad enough, but – a murderer …?’ Tom paused, too choked up to continue.
Ramone looked at him hard. ‘Did you really waste those guys?’
‘No!’ Tom shouted. ‘They were trying to kill me! One was a ’wolf, the other was some maniac trying
to cut me open—’
Kate crossed over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down. ‘It’s OK, Tom. It’s OK. We have to think why she’s done this.’
‘She’s gonna kill my family,’ Tom whispered. He felt like he might puke. ‘It’s a revenge thing, it must be.’
Kate tried to lose the tremor from her voice. ‘She won’t kill them. Not yet. She’s using them, trying to scare you into coming out in the open.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Mom must’ve gotten tired of chasing us. Why waste time tracking us down when she can bring us scurrying out?’
‘She wants you to go running to the cops?’ Jasmine clearly didn’t buy it. ‘Why? How would she get you then?’
‘The cops don’t just know about the ’wolves,’ Kate told her sharply, ‘some of them are ’wolves. The lupine community can only survive if blind eyes are turned in some pretty high places – so a whole lot of ’wolves make it their duty to climb to the top of the career ladder of all the useful professions. Police, politics, medicine …’
Jasmine nodded slowly. ‘So if you give yourselves up to the cops, what happens?’
‘We’ll meet with some kind of accident,’ Tom assured her. ‘Or maybe we’ll “escape” and never be found again. Get my drift?’
‘Well, whatever,’ said Ramone. ‘You two are trouble. And we got enough crap going down here without you two bringing your own.’
Kate glared at him. ‘This is the thanks we get for saving your life?’
‘It’s OK, Kate,’ Tom said quietly. ‘They’re just scared. We can’t blame them for that.’
‘Yo, Ramone,’ drawled Cicero, from where he lay stretched out on the floor. ‘Seems to me we’re missin’ a trick. We could buy us some favours – let Takapa have ’em if the howlers want them so bad.’
There was a heavy pause. Tom glanced around the room, steeling himself for fight or flight. All eyes were on him and Kate.
But Ramone shook his head. ‘Takapa don’t do deals, Ciss. Even if he did, we don’t trade with no howlers.’ He turned to Jasmine. ‘Here’s the deal. Rico needs them bandages changin’, it’s time he got his ass around to Woollard’s place. Jasmine, baby, you’ll take him in the morning, huh?’
Jasmine nodded. ‘Sure.’
Ramone turned back to Tom and Kate. ‘Woollard used to be a doctor once,’ he explained. ‘He helps us out. We help him out. And he knows about the ’wolves and shit, even treats some of their victims. Maybe he knows the dude you came here to find. Jasmine, take them with you, baby?’
Jasmine was about to open her mouth as if to argue when several loud thumps at the door rumbled through the room. Jasmine took a couple of nimble steps back in alarm. Rico hit the mute on the TV then jumped for cover behind one of the couches. The others held themselves still as statues except for Polar, who rose automatically – ready to take a snap of their mystery visitors.
Ramone blocked his way. ‘Sit down. You think that’s the mailman out there or something? It’s almost four a.m.’
Kate edged closer to Tom. He felt her icy fingers coil into his own, and squeezed her hand tightly.
There were two more loud knocks, then nothing. The silence continued for what must have been a full minute. People began to breathe again.
Then, with a hideous splintering noise, the front door was smashed in.
The room erupted into movement as people scrabbled up from the floor or their couches, swearing and yelling. Tom and Kate backed away involuntarily, knocking against one of the lamps.
Ramone turned to Jasmine. ‘Get the gun,’ he told her, but she was already running for the other room. He pulled a switchblade from his jacket pocket just as a giant in biker’s leathers burst into their hideout, wielding a sledgehammer. He had a pale, dangerous-looking face. His hair was a greasy crown of thick blond spikes. His heavy-lidded grey eyes sparked with reckless aggression, and his teeth were bared in a wild grin. Scores of tiny zits festered in the chapped, red skin around his mouth.
‘Hey, kids!’ The man gave a crazed laugh. ‘Ain’tcha got no milk and cookies for Swagger?’
Before anyone could react, Swagger brought the hammer’s heavy wooden handle up under Ramone’s chin. There was a loud crack and the boy reeled backwards. Puff lumbered towards their uninvited guest, fists raised, but Swagger shoved him aside, sending him sprawling over the couch to land heavily in front of the TV.
Tom tried to help Ramone get back up, but the big man turned, grabbed a fistful of Tom’s dark hair and threw him aside.
Tom landed in a heap at Kate’s feet, gasping as he banged his head on the sharp plastic corner of a plug socket.
Swagger took two long steps into the room. Two big guys – one black, one white, both dressed in ragged denim over black leather, biker-style – followed him inside, armed with baseball bats.
‘Anyone else here want to play the hero?’ Swagger enquired.
Jasmine burst out from the other room. Both her hands were clamped hard around a gun. ‘Don’t make me use this,’ she said carefully, no trace of tremor in her voice.
A slow grin spread over Swagger’s face. ‘Gee, is the little girl gonna pop us?’
Ramone reached up from where he lay and wrangled the gun from Jasmine’s stiff grip.
Swagger took a step forward, but Ramone quickly fired over his head. The noise was deafening, and plaster rained down like confetti over Swagger and his sidekicks. The smug expression turned sour on his big ugly face.
Struggling to his feet, Ramone held his gun arm rigid and pointed at Swagger’s head. ‘Take off.’
Swagger remained still, but gestured with his eyes first at Tom, then at Kate, who shifted uncomfortably under his stare. ‘So who you got here? Reinforcements?’
‘They’re nobody,’ said Ramone.
Swagger kept on staring at Kate. ‘Figures, if they hang with you, loser.’
Ramone jerked the gun. ‘What you come here for, Swagger?’
‘I’m giving you one last chance.’
‘One last chance to kiss howler butt?’ Ramone spat on the floor.
‘Uh-huh. And you better pucker up nice and sweet,’ Swagger told him quietly. ‘Takapa wants you all down at the arena, midnight Friday.’
‘Why?’
‘To show your allegiance, numbnuts.’
‘We don’t got no allegiance to shit like you,’ said Ramone. ‘Just to each other.’
‘’S’right,’ added Jasmine. ‘You think we’re stupid? We go down there, we’re dead.’
‘You got Papa Takapa all wrong, man,’ Swagger grinned. ‘He wants you to come and party on Friday. And he’s offering ’wolf protection. He wants to look out for you. Who else is gonna do that?’
Ramone got unsteadily up on his feet. ‘We got all we need right here.’
‘Yeah?’ Swagger smiled nastily. ‘Not for long.’
As if he’d been signalled, the big black guy hurled his baseball bat at Jasmine, who yelped and fell back. Ramone turned instinctively towards her, and Swagger kicked the gun from his hand. The other intruder brought his own bat down on Ramone’s head.
‘No!’ screamed Rico.
Then everything seemed to happen at once. The gorilla who’d brought down Ramone now waded into the middle of the room and swung his bat into the screen of the TV. Rico yelped as the glass shattered and white sparks spewed out.
Kate crouched down to help Tom up. ‘Come on, there must be a back way out of here,’ she hissed.
Tom was still dazed. He saw Cicero try to tackle the man with the bat, leaping on his back. But Swagger grabbed Cicero by the neck and threw him against the wall.
Two of Ramone’s friends had clearly decided not to stick around. They jumped over Cicero’s body and fled the same way Swagger had come in.
‘Fleet, China, get back here!’ yelled Jasmine. She had picked up the bat that had been thrown at her and was wielding it like she meant business. But the black guy had grabbed Ramone’s gun.
He brought it up ready to fire at her.
Kate swore, leaned past Tom and yanked the adaptor plug out of the wall.
The place was plunged into blackness.
All movement stopped. The only sound was a low, male voice, Cicero maybe: ‘Por favor, no me lastime. Don’t hurt me,’ again and again.
Before Tom’s eyes could even begin to adjust to the sudden dark, Kate was dragging him up to his feet. Her lips pressed up to his ear. ‘Move,’ she said fiercely. ‘Refrigerator room. Maybe there’s an exit behind that green curtain.’
Tom charged through into the room with the refrigerator but collided with the table. His hip cracked and felt red-hot. The sound of bottles and glasses toppling and crashing filled the air.
‘Stop them,’ Swagger ordered.
A shot was fired. Tom fell forward again, and he heard Kate yelp – in alarm, he hoped, not pain.
Footsteps were coming towards him. Tom was on all fours, disorientated now, groping for the green curtain. His mind was clouding, he could feel the ’wolf bucking inside his body. He struggled to hold on. If he lost control now, lashed out in the dark, how could he hope to tell friend from foe?
Someone knocked into him as they passed. ‘Kate?’ The curtain billowed out into his face as someone swept it aside. Tom grabbed a fistful of the fabric, got up and felt his way through into the space beyond.
He found himself in a filthy room lit by the sputtering flames of three stubby candles. Tom stared around trying to get his bearings. A pair of mouldering mattresses had been slung on the floor, rucked-up sleeping bags hunched beside them like great fat slugs. A closet door hung open on a single hinge. Perhaps he could hide there until—
Too late. One of Swagger’s heavies came charging inside, the black one with the gun. Tom tripped him up and the guy went crashing to the ground, snuffing out two of the candles as he fell.
Another shape stole into the room. Tom could just about make out that it was female. ‘Kate?’ he hissed, heart thumping wildly. ‘That you?’
‘Shut your stupid mouth and follow me,’ Jasmine hissed back, crossing to the closet.
