by Stephen Cole
Stacy opened the lid of the case they’d taken from Woollard’s and produced one of the test tubes filled with crimson liquid. ‘You’ve heard of certain synthetic drugs being used to treat heroin addiction?’ she asked him. ‘This stuff’s kind of similar. It’s just blood, but with a special hormone mixed in – a hormone that simulates the kick lupines get from the ’wolf-change and all it leads to.’
‘So … a consequence-free high?’ Tom regarded the phial doubtfully. ‘They sip that and the ’wolf cravings are satisfied? They lose their bloodlust?’
‘I’ve tried it out on a number of willing subjects,’ she said. ‘The hospital’s linked with a program run for homeless kids. Out on the streets, no place to go, they’re easy pickings for the ’wolves. A lot of them were turned against their will and hate what they’ve become. So I put out the word – Stacy Serum might just help them.’
‘And it really works?’
‘It must be effective. According to my ’wolf informants on the program, the number of turns on the street has gone way down.’
‘Down?’ Tom frowned. ‘But Ramone – Rico’s brother – was saying there are more ’wolves on the streets now than ever.’
‘Maybe it just seems that way to him,’ suggested Stacy. ‘I’m talking about the citywide picture. The evidence suggests there are fewer reports of fresh turnings and a greater number of newbloods coming back for more serum.’ She grinned at him. ‘Don’t you get it? The serum fixes the newbloods’ cravings without them having to go out and bite someone. And because fewer people are being bitten, the ’wolf population explosion has slowed right down. The results add up.’
‘OK,’ Tom said guardedly. ‘But if you can’t make the stuff here, how are you meeting all this demand?’
‘This is my starter pack for the latest brand of serum,’ Stacy explained. ‘It works like a vaccine. Just a few drops added to a beaker of blood plasma “infects” it, turns it into more Stacy Serum.’
‘And you have access to tons of plasma, ’cause this is a hospital,’ Tom reasoned.
Stacy grinned. ‘Neat, huh?’
‘And are there any side-effects?’
‘Nothing much has been reported, but I can’t be completely sure. It’s still work in progress, not perfected yet,’ she said a touch irritably. ‘But it’s working all right for now. It’s all we have, and it’s offering the newbloods hope. Hope enough to hang on until I can perfect a cure.’
‘But, Stacy – Kate saw Swagger take some of your serum and it didn’t exactly calm him down.’
‘Its actual effectiveness may vary in degree from case to case,’ Stacy said defensively. ‘I’m working on that. Perhaps that’s why he made sure the rest of the shipment got back to me,’ she suggested. ‘Perhaps he wants a serum that will work for him. He must realise he can’t go out hunting the whole time without winding up in trouble eventually.’
‘I guess,’ Tom said, unconvinced.
She sighed. ‘You hate the ’wolves, Tom, I can understand that. But isn’t it possible that’s colouring your judgement? Making you over-suspicious?’
Tom smiled, he didn’t want to push the point and risk pissing her off. ‘I want to believe you.’ He paused. ‘And I want to try some of the serum.’
‘I haven’t checked your blood yet,’ said Stacy. ‘If there’s less lupine in you than in the regular newbloods, the serum may be less effective.’
‘Consider me a guinea-pig,’ Tom said. ‘I feel the blood cravings, doctor, believe me. If there’s a way to suppress that, I’ll take it.’
Stacy looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded. ‘Why don’t you try to get some rest first, huh? You look dead on your feet, and it’s going to take a while to do these tests on Rico.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll fix you a dose of serum for when you wake up.’
Tom yawned and nodded. ‘I guess it has been a long night.’
g
Kate was catnapping on a hospital trolley that seemed skinnier than she was; she was afraid even to turn over in case she fell out. Her head rustled every time she moved, since her hair was covered by a plastic bag. The henna stank, and she was dreading seeing what she might see in the mirror when she was done.
Whatever, it had to be better than the stuff she was seeing in her restless dreams. Stacy had cordoned off a section in one of the wards so she could get a few hours’ rest in private. But each time she dozed she found herself back at the arena, Swagger’s big, sweaty body beside her, the violence in the rink being re-enacted again and again.
A cellphone rang close by and she sat up bolt upright. When the tinny melody clicked off she heard Jasmine’s voice answer, sleepy and irritable. She must’ve been getting some rest here too.
‘Polar? Jesus, it’s a miracle! He has a voice!’
Kate felt her stomach twist. Polar had been monitoring the radio, was he calling with news of Tom’s parents?
‘A guy? What guy? Say his name again? Zhee-khaki? Hey, I heard of him …’
Kate was wide-awake now. She jumped off her narrow bunk, tried to follow Jasmine’s voice. ‘Did he say Jicaque? Keep him on the line.’ She yanked aside a curtain and exposed some grouchy old woman getting a shot in the ass from a nervous-looking medic. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she muttered, pulling it straight back across and moving on. ‘Jasmine! Keep him on the line, let me talk to him.’
She found the girl at last, a few cubicles down. As Kate watched, Jasmine killed the call with a precise press of her finger.
‘Well, look at the state of you,’ smirked Jasmine. ‘Bag on your head’s a nice touch. No cop’s ever gonna recognise you now.’
‘Why d’you ring off?’ Kate demanded, ignoring her. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
‘Polar don’t like talking to people he don’t know,’ Jasmine said, putting away the phone. ‘Fact is, Polar don’t like to talk, period. His daddy beat him every time he opened his mouth, so pretty soon he learned – keep quiet and you keep out of trouble.’ She gave Kate a look. ‘He’s choosy about who he talks to. So I took a message.’
Kate crossed her arms. ‘Well?’
‘Some old guy came around the hangout. The guy Tom’s been looking for. Zhi …’
‘Jicaque. Go on.’
‘He wanted to see Tom. Left instructions to meet on Gun Hill bridge out in Baychester. Nine o’clock tonight.’
‘That’s it? Nothing else?’
Jasmine went sour-faced and shook her head. ‘Ain’t that enough? What more do you want, faxed confirmation and a map?’
Kate was seething with anger. ‘I just would’ve liked to talk with him about this, OK? You don’t have to be such a bitch.’
The girl’s eyes widened in outrage. ‘Me, the bitch?’
‘Look, could you just call him back please?’ Kate took a deep breath. ‘You’re right, Jicaque is the man Tom and I came to New York to see, but the ’wolves know that too. They could be using him to trap us or …’
Jasmine was shaking her head, looking around like she was bored.
Kate bunched her fists, feeling suddenly helpless. ‘What is your problem?’
‘I’ll tell you about my problem.’ Jasmine stood up and jabbed a finger into Kate’s chest. ‘I don’t want you talking to my friends, OK? We got enough sweat on. Something must’ve freaked Polar pretty bad to get him talking – and I don’t want the people I care about mixed up in your shit the same way Tom is.’
Kate knocked Jasmine’s hand away, suddenly furious. ‘It wasn’t me who got Tom involved in all—’
‘Save it, honey. Not interested.’ Jasmine’s dark eyes blazed into Kate’s. ‘However you dress it up, it seems to me that boy was turned ’wolf because of you. You’re trouble. Stuck up, skinny-assed trouble, whatever dumb colour you put in your hair.’
Before Kate could open her mouth to utter another word, a nurse poked his tired head around the curtain. ‘You two – take any fights outside, please. You’re disturbing the patients.’
‘We’re done,’ said Jasmine. Wit
h a last filthy look at Kate, she stalked away, pushing past the nurse.
Kate listened to the click of her neat little footsteps dwindle down the corridor.
Only when the noise had stopped altogether and the nurse gone back about his business did Kate allow the tears to fall.
g
Tom awoke from a familiar nightmare, sweating and itching inside. He’d been running in his lupine form, chasing after something that was always just out of view; never allowed to quit, his hunger building and building.
Groggily he sat up, his throat thick and filled with the iron tang of blood, like he’d had a nosebleed or something. It was his imagination, he knew, but the taste of it was maddening. On the table beside him was a little paper cup with a viscous red fluid inside. Stacy Serum, he supposed. There was a note scrawled beside it: drink me if you need me.
Tom drained the sticky mixture in one gulp, his head still spinning. It tasted like aniseed but scalded his throat like brandy. ‘Half-boy, half-wolf, half-guinea-pig,’ he muttered.
‘That’s three halves,’ Kate said, pushing her head around the door.
‘Once again, I achieve the impossible.’ Tom looked up and did a double take. Kate’s hair was now a vibrant red. ‘Hey, you look great!’
Kate wrinkled her nose. ‘You think?’
‘I know,’ he grinned.
‘I’m not totally convinced.’ Kate pulled some strands round to scrutinise. ‘I guess I’ll get used to it …’
‘Sure you will.’ The burn in his throat was fading now, and he felt a lot brighter. ‘Anyway, aside from the hair, how’s it going?’
‘Don’t ask,’ she said lightly.
Was it his imagination or were Kate’s eyes looking a little red too, like she’d been crying?
‘As for where it’s going – that’s Baychester, Gun Hill bridge. Get yourself ready.’
Tom listened wide-eyed as Kate related what Jasmine had told her about Polar’s call. ‘It could be a trap,’ he said. ‘Scratch that. It’s bound to be a trap.’
‘I wanted to quiz Polar on the finer points,’ she said, ‘but Jasmine said no. Thinks I’m a bad influence on her friends.’
Tom frowned. ‘What?’
‘She’s such a bitch,’ Kate said venomously.
He didn’t say anything. But from the hurt way Kate looked at him Tom realised he’d been supposed to. Fell into that one, he thought, and tried to fumble a reply, much too late.
But Kate spoke over him. ‘You should try and call Polar,’ she suggested curtly. ‘Jasmine seems to like you a whole lot better.’
‘She does not,’ Tom protested.
‘Oh, please. Just go ask her for the number.’
‘Well, where is she?’
‘Losing your touch? Can’t you go sniff her out or something?’ Kate held up her hands even before he could register the hurt. ‘I’m sorry. Jesus, ignore me, OK? I’m just crabby, no sleep …’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘You understand … right?’
Tom was still mad, and let his face show it.
‘’Cause Tom, if you don’t understand me, I swear to God I don’t know who ever could.’
He looked at her for a few moments. Then he crossed the room and awkwardly held out his arms to her. She rose and held him, and he clutched her back tightly.
A woman cleared her throat softly behind them. They sprang apart.
‘Stacy,’ Tom said, a little flustered. ‘We were just—’
‘Hey, no need to explain,’ smiled Stacy. ‘The new red hair’s hot, right? I knew it was a good idea!’
Kate nodded awkwardly. ‘Yeah, I like it. Thanks, Stacy.’
Stacy crossed to the table and checked the cup. ‘You took the serum then, Tom. How’re you feeling?’
‘Fine.’ He blinked, considered for a moment. ‘Actually, I feel great. Better than I have for ages.’
Stacy gave them a mischievous smile. ‘Sure that’s not young love talking?’
‘Eeuw,’ shuddered Kate, and they all laughed. ‘What’s this about taking serum?’
‘Later,’ Tom told her. ‘Stacy, do you know where Jasmine and Rico are?’
‘They split,’ she said, ‘headed back home.’
‘Then we can’t get hold of Polar and check,’ Tom realised. ‘I don’t have Jasmine’s cellphone number.’
Kate smiled sweetly. ‘What, you mean she hasn’t given it to you already?’ she said.
g
They got directions from Stacy for riding the subway out to Baychester, as well as a twenty-dollar bill for expenses. ‘Pay me back in blood samples,’ she’d joked. Then they’d headed off.
Kate had never seen Tom in such high spirits, cracking jokes, babbling away about all kinds of nonsense, leapfrogging over trash cans … She guessed that he was excited at the thought of maybe meeting the man who could save his life – before the worst happened to his family. She waved her new hair in his face to remind him that as far as this whole city was concerned they were wanted criminals; they should keep their profiles low.
‘The cops’ll never take me alive!’ he shouted in some ridiculous gangster voice as he passed through the subway turnstile, drawing a gun from his fingers and pretending to shoot passers-by.
‘OK, the infantile jerk thing is wearing a little thin now,’ Kate remarked. She was apprehensive; not just about what might be waiting for them in Baychester, but because of this change in Tom’s behaviour. What was happening with him? She’d been looking forward to spending a peaceful few hours together, just the two of them, before facing whatever lay ahead. But the new, hyper Tom apparently had no conception of quiet time. It had to be down to that serum stuff; he’d told her about taking it, and she’d scolded him for it: ‘There’s no saying how it might affect someone like you.’
‘There is no one like me,’ he’d said darkly. ‘Remember?’
But Tom calmed down a little once they got on the subway. There were about a million stops on the train. It was only five o’clock, but they’d figured if they got to the bridge early they might get the jump on anyone trying to spring a nasty surprise. Plus, looking at the map Stacy had loaned them, it might take that long to find a bus that would take them even close by.
Tom spent the rest of the journey catnapping, his newfound energy apparently spent. He woke up with a start every time the train lurched or screeched a little too loud, then sank back into a fitful slumber. Good, thought Kate. Sleep it off.
At last they arrived at their stop, deep in the Bronx. Neither of them said much while they waited for the bus to arrive, but it was a comfortable silence. As it turned out, they didn’t have long to wait. The sun was low and dusky pink as a bus took them through a clean, urban landscape of malls and parks and schools; it certainly didn’t look like the hotbed of crime and terror she’d heard about from films and TV. But, then, she had learned that few things were ever as they seemed.
Night had well and truly fallen by the time the bus dropped them off. With the time approaching seven-thirty, they crossed a cordoned-off stretch of parkland to reach Gun Hill bridge. It was a dark, ornate structure that hunched long and low over the river below; the water resembled a strip of tarnished silver in the moonlight. An angular mass of scaffolding and tarpaulins clung to one side of the bridge which was closed for repairs. Streetlamps stood flanking it like mute sentries, but they were broken and dark. Only one still shone, rooted in the middle of the bridge.
‘Let’s make straight for there,’ Tom said.
Kate agreed. ‘At least we’ll be able to see who’s coming.’
As they crossed the dark bridge, Kate felt unease tease and itch at the back of her mind. It was too quiet out here. The solitary streetlamp cast strange shadows as its light threaded the intricate ironwork of the balustrade below. Then, Kate felt a shiver run through her. A dark figure was crouched at the foot of the streetlamp.
It rose up as they approached. The light glinted off a square of plastic in front of the figure’s hooded face.
&nb
sp; ‘Polar?’ Kate shot a surprised glance at Tom. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Where’s Ramone?’ Tom added. ‘Is he with you?’
Slowly, Polar shook his head and lowered his camera. He pulled a photo from the pocket of his grey hooded top and passed it to Kate in silence.
She angled it in the dim light to see what it was. And swore. Bile rose in her chest. Tom snatched the photo away for a closer look. Then let it fall it to the floor.
‘Oh, my God,’ he said quietly.
It was a picture of Ramone, lying in a pool of blood, his throat slit open.
‘Why?’ Kate whispered shakily. ‘When did this …?’ She felt cut up inside. ‘Polar, for God’s sake, what happened?’
She looked imploringly at the silent hooded figure. And then she caught the yellow gleam in Polar’s eyes.
‘He’s ’wolf, Tom,’ she murmured, backing away, panic rising. ‘They turned him. He did it.’
‘No, Kate. I did.’
They spun around, though Kate knew who had spoken, knew who had crept up quietly behind them while they stood speechless in shock.
‘Mom,’ she whispered.
g
g
CHAPTER TEN
‘I guessed you would get here early,’ said Marcie Folan. Her smile was cold and bleak as the moon above as she looked at Kate. ‘Sweetie, what has Mommy told you about dyeing your hair? Am I going to have to punish you?’
Kate said nothing. Tom stared at the scrawny woman facing them; her face pale and gaunt, thin bloodless lips stretched tight over her teeth. The reek of death hung about her. Marcie Folan, the woman who had ripped his life apart, made him half-animal, driven him into the darkness. She had wanted him dead since he’d first crossed her by accidentally killing Wesley, her ’wolf son, in a life-or-death struggle. But Takapa had stayed Tom’s execution. He wanted Tom taken apart first. Cell by cell.
So what was Marcie’s agenda now?
Tom thought of his parents, thought of Ramone, of all the people this woman had tainted or killed. It was all he could do not to throw himself at her, let the wolf inside him tear into her desiccated hide. But Kate must’ve seen the way he was tensing because she grabbed hold of his arm, held him back.
