Urban Witch

by R. L. Giddings

  My view of the ward was severely limited by the narrowness of the doorway and it was tempting to think that I was now safe; that the threat had passed. But I recognised that for the lie it was.

  I just had to stay where I was and let my quarry come to me. Hopefully, it would give me enough time to set up my shot and focus on what I was doing. The problem was that all the adrenalin pumping through my system was making me jittery and giving me other ideas. Dangerous ideas.

  I used my foot to ease the door open a little wider.

  And what I saw froze my blood.

  There was something moving in the shadows of the nurse’s station but it wasn’t what I’d been expecting. It wasn’t a werewolf for a start: of that, I was pretty certain. For one thing, it appeared to be almost pure white. It was difficult to estimate its size, I think because it was so unexpected seeing a vibrant animal like that in such a sterile environment.

  The creature moved forward underneath one of the emergency lights, its leg brushing against the wall, anchoring it to the real world.

  That was when I realised I could hear its breathing. Harsh and urgent.

  Then my view was obscured by a woman trailing her drip.

  Who she was and how Liv and her team had failed to lock her in were questions which would have to wait to be answered. All I knew was that by walking right into the path of this creature she was ruining my shot. I found the safety and eased it back.

  The smell of the beast was the first thing that hit me upon stepping through the door. It had a sharp, unpleasant edge to it which reminded me of fertiliser. This thing was real then and not just some clever illusion. A creature of flesh and blood.

  I kept low, using the woman’s profile to hide my movements. But the creature itself was no longer still, it was edging around the woman now, hugging the ground, eager to engage. And, it would seem, she was just as keen, leaning towards it making contented baby noises. I wondered what it was that she thought she saw?

  This wasn’t how I’d envisaged things going, with me totally exposed, putting all my faith in the stopping power of six silver bullets. All I needed was one good, clean shot. A head shot was unlikely to prove fatal from my angle and - because of the way that the creature was crouching - I doubted that I had much chance of hitting any of the vital organs.

  I crept forward tentatively, the woman was chuckling to herself now, the sound of her clanking drip causing enough of a distraction to allow me to risk peaking over her shoulder. The animal appeared to have stopped moving and was crouching, less than three metres away, its breath catching in its throat. For a moment I wondered if there was something about the woman’s shambling procession that had unsettled the creature but then I realised the truth. It was bunching its muscles, gathering itself, preparing to spring.

  And that was the point at which I realised what we were dealing with. This was no wolf. This was different. This thing moved with all the loose limbed grace of a big cat.

  It was waiting for the woman to come into range, so as not to expend any unnecessary effort; just as I had been attempting to do earlier. Let your prey come to you.

  The sound of the creature’s breathing, low and rhythmic, unnerved me now to the point where I struggled to hold my gun steady. I had serious doubts about whether I’d have the resolve to pull the trigger when the time came.

  I was trying to calm myself when the old woman stumbled. She would have fallen if I hadn’t instinctively grabbed the back of her surgical gown. She muttered something under her breath as we both staggered forwards. I managed to get my free arm around her waist, there really was hardly anything of her. Like a fledgling bird fallen from its nest, you could calculate her survival time in minutes. She wheeled around and, with my other hand clutching the gun, I struggled to keep her upright. During our struggle her drip had been torn from her arm. The dressing where the drip had been attached hung loose and a thin welt of blood marked the crease of her elbow.

  Then there was movement. The creature, alerted to my presence, was rising to something approximating its full height. The stalking process was over, whatever advantage I might have garnered had suddenly evaporated.

  It took every ounce of will power not to look up at that moment - not to look into the creature’s eyes - because I knew that if I did that I wouldn’t be able to look away. The creature was holding its breath but, then again, so was I. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.

  Over to my left was an empty room. The door was half open - offering a sanctuary of sorts. It seemed like a very long way away.

  I needed a distraction.

  The creature’s shoulders rolled forwards as it started to inhale. It was getting ready to strike. It loomed over me now, its shoulders a good two metres above the ground, almost brushing the ceiling. Time to act.

  I braced my foot against the drip and pushed hard.

  There was no real weight to it but the effect was enhanced by the drip cord whipping round, scything through the air, at the same level as the creature’s eyes. It pulled back reflexively and, as it did so, I grabbed the woman under the arms and launched the pair of us towards the door. I took the full impact on my left side, staggered and dropped the woman. She let out a startled cry of pain but I didn’t have time for niceties. I stepped over her, steadied myself against the door jam, raised my pistol and fired.

  In the tight confines of the ward, the sound of the gun shot was brutal. The muzzle flash illuminated the creature as it reared up, highlighting its fur in an iridescent halo.

  The first bullet had gone wide but that didn’t feel important. After the first shot the tension left my body and instinct took over. Squeezing the trigger once, twice, three times.

  And that’s the last thing I remember.

  •

  The next morning I woke up to find bright sun-light filling the ward. A nurse stood at the bottom of the bed consulting my chart. It was a glorious morning but when I tried to sit up a spasm of pain coursed down my side.

  I took the pain killers the nurse offered me without protest. My head throbbed with the threat of a headache to come and I was very careful about the next time I chose to sit up. It was the work of just a few seconds to check what I was wearing under the sheets. My own clothes had been removed and replaced with a surgical gown.

  The events of the previous night came back to me slowly and fitfully as if it had all occurred several weeks previously rather than a matter of only a few hours. I tentatively explored the side of my head. It was badly swollen with a fresh dressing running from the top of my head to just above my ear. There were stitches under there, coarse and gritty to the touch, the skin tight and tender. I wondered briefly whether they’d had to cut my hair.

  My throat was desperately dry and, after a little searching, I located a pitcher of water standing on my bedside locker. Pouring myself a glass proved an altogether more challenging proposal.

  The water was unbelievably refreshing and I would have happily drunk a second glass if I hadn’t felt so fatigued by the effort of pouring the first.

  I set my head back on the pillow for a moment intending just to catch my breath. I must have dosed off though because the next time I opened my eyes the lighting had changed for the worse. Much more over-cast.

  Also, I found that I had become the topic of conversation.

  “With respect, sir: it’s why we chose this ward in the first place.”

  “You were in charge. You shouldn’t have let yourself get compromised like that.”

  “We had to contain the threat on the stairwells.”

  “Only you didn’t. Whatever it was still managed to get through.”

  “My main aim was to protect the ward.”

  “Yes, and look at the bloody state of it!”

  The anger in Kinsella’s voice was clear and the focus of it was, for now, Marcus Rolfe

  He tried to defend himself. “We had things under control until the police took out the electrics.”

  Kinsella spoke matt
er-of-factly, “At which point you panicked…”

  “No, sir. I was concerned that Terence might have been injured.”

  “Let me get this straight. You split up in order to put a man on each stair-well only to then, at the first sign of trouble, abandon your position and go across to the other stairwell. In the meantime, the intruder slips past you both - completely unchallenged.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Marcus’ voice was starting to crack.

  “No, but it was hardly a brilliant success either, was it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Alright then,” Kinsella was suddenly calm. “How many casualties are we looking at?”

  “One police fatality. Two other officers badly injured. One’s in surgery right now.”

  “What about the other man on the door?”

  “We’re still searching for him, sir. But we’re not holding out much hope.”

  “Have you tried the bottom of the lift shaft?”

  Marcus looked up, “No, sir. We haven’t.”

  “Then I suggest you go and take a look.”

  It took a beat for Marcus to recognise this as the command it was. Once the penny had dropped he couldn’t move quickly enough.

  “And what about you?” Kinsella fixed me with his icy blue eyes. “How are you holding up?”

  “A few bumps and bruises but I’ll be alright, sir”

  “Good. I want you out of here as soon as possible. Doctor’s agreed that you can go home. Rest up there.”

  “Sir, you want me to go home?”

  “The whole thing’s a shambles. No reflection on you, of course. Seems you’re the only one to have come out of this with any credit.”

  After the roasting he’d just given Marcus that sounded like a five star endorsement, “What about Helena and the others?”

  “Still not sure about Helena and we won’t be until she regains consciousness. The others will be fine – just badly shaken up.”

  “Have any of them said anything?”

  “Millie’s with them now. She’s trying to convince them that they were the victims of a psychotropic gas leak.”

  “And they’re going with that?”

  “Makes more sense than the alternative. She can be quite persuasive when it gets down to it.”

  He sat on the bed then, made as though he were talking to himself. “What about you? Did you get a good look at it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And?”

  Tears threatened to come but I managed to hold them backs. “Shape-shifter. But not a wolf, that much I’m certain of. I’d say a cat, and a big one too.”

  “I’ve seen what it did to the door. Cat, you say? You did well to scare it off.”

  I was confused. “Did no one else see it? No CCTV?”

  “No. Fortunately, it came up against that lad, Terence. Quite the cool customer.”

  “You mean he killed it?”

  “Didn’t mess around,” he took his phone out of his jacket. “Of course, the thing doesn’t look so menacing once it’s transformed back.”

  He showed me the picture on his phone. A blonde woman, who would have been attractive in life, lying naked and broken at the bottom of a stairwell, half her torso burned black.

  “Could I take a closer look at her face?”

  Kinsella obliged giving me a good view of her face in profile. The image was grainy yet unmistakeable.

  “You know her?”

  “I think so. Helena and I spoke with her yesterday. She worked in Brodsky’s gallery.”

  Kinsella took the phone and looked at the image again. “I’ll get onto that right away. Did you get her name?”

  “Sorry,” I looked at the image again just to be sure. It was hard to take in. “And you’re saying that Terence did this?”

  “Looks like we underestimated him.”

  “I assume that you took the picture?”

  Kinsella nodded.

  “Can I ask: were there any gunshot wounds on the body?”

  “No, but don’t feel bad about it. In a situation like that you’d do well to hit anything. It was enough that you scared her off.”

  Then, he patted my calf through the covers. “Glad you’re alright though.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  As he left the room, Millie appeared as if by some pre-arranged signal.

  She stood there looking awkward.

  “How’s the head?”

  “Hurts,” I said.

  “I was worried. Thought the worst.”

  “So did I.”

  “Sorry about… last night. What I said.”

  “Me too. It was all a bit intense.”

  Millie nodded solemnly. “Still friends?”

  “Friends.”

  Chapter 14

  It took nearly an hour to track down my clothes. I never did find my shoe so I was forced to borrow a pair of plimsolls. I decided not to ask anyone what had happened to the gun. When I finally got my watch back it said that it was two in the afternoon. That was all morning gone and still, before they’d discharge me, the ward sister insisted that a doctor check me over. He gave me a prescription for pain killers and asked if there was anyone at home who could keep an eye on me. I told him there was and for once didn’t need to lie about it.

  I wanted to say goodbye to Millie but was told that she was busy talking with journalists so I rang for a taxi.

  Terence was sitting in the hospital lobby when I got down there. He seemed like a sad character; nothing like the all-conquering hero. He had his arm in a sling and some nasty burn marks on the right hand side of his face.

  “Are they shipping you off home as well?” I asked.

  He nodded sadly and indicated for me to sit with h. His left eye was watering and he kept wiping at it with his sleeve. I hesitated but then realised I’d have to wait for my taxi whether or not.

  “My hearing’s not so good on this side,” he indicated the livid burn marks on his cheek. “The explosion burst my ear-drum.”

  “That’s not permanent though, is it?”

  “No. Takes about six weeks to grow back. I was lucky.”

  “What about the arm?”

  “It’s my shoulder. I fell down some steps.”

  The main doors opened and Marcus strode in. He didn’t acknowledge me but spoke directly to Terence. There was a new level of respect there.

  “I’ve rung the taxi company. They say they did send a car but the police turned it away. They’re sending another one. About ten minutes.”

  “Are you not talking to me,” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow as if an irritating noise had started up again.

  He said to Terence, “Perhaps we should go out to the main road?”

  “Good idea.”

  Marcus started collecting his things.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “I’ve felt better,” he obviously blamed himself for a lot of what had gone on. The fact that Kinsella apparently agreed with him only made matters worse.

  “It was my fault the thing got up the stairs.”

  Terence climbed to his feet. “You don’t know that. There’s lots of other ways it could have gotten up there.”

  “I nearly got both of you killed,” Marcus scowled. “And, if it hadn’t been for Terence’s quick thinking things could have been even worse.”

  “You saw it?” I spoke directly to Terence this time. “What did you think? I thought that it was some kind of big cat.”

  Terence shook his head, “I was thinking that it was more wolf-like.”

  “A female wolf! Operating alone?” I couldn’t keep the scepticism out of my voice.

  “Heay!” Marcus said. “After last night I’d say anything’s possible.”

  Terence raised his hand. “I admit it. I didn’t get a very good look. I panicked when I heard it coming down the stairs…”

  “He threw a fireball at it!” Marcus explained. “I wasn’t even sure that was possible. A fireba
ll!”

  I looked across at Terence who just shrugged. He wasn’t being modest he was just tired. We really had under-estimated him if all this were true. Fire is one of the most difficult, not to mention dangerous, elements to work with. Casting fireballs was a sign of a really adept practitioner. No wonder Kinsella was so pleased.

  Terence was having none of it. “I panicked. I needed time to build the spell but, when I saw the shadow on the stairs … I cast too early.”

  “At least you hit it,” I said. “Four times I fired. Missed every time.”

  “But you frightened her off,” Marcus said. “I just wished whatever it was had come down my stairwell. I’d have had a surprise for it.”

  I pulled a sympathetic face as we walked out the front of the building but, really, I didn’t believe a word of it.

  When I got back home I wearily mounted the stairs to my flat. My shoulder ached just raising my arm to open my front door. I was exhausted, eagerly anticipating climbing into my own bed but instead of turning right into the bedroom I turned left towards the kitchen. I’d had nothing to eat since the previous night and was struck by how hungry I felt. A pile of fresh towels which had been stacked outside the bathroom had fallen over so I stooped to pick them up.

  I carried them through into the bathroom and laid them inside the wicker basket I’d bought for the purpose. At least the bathroom was looking tidy. I went back out into the living room to find Silas sitting on the sofa.

  “Jesus!” I exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Sorry,” he put down the newspaper he’d been reading and swivelled around in my direction. “I thought I’d sit and wait for you rather than chasing about the place”

  “How the hell did you get in? How do you even know where I live?”

  “I told the woman downstairs that I was your boyfriend. She seemed happy enough with that. Secondly, you’re on my radar now, Bronte. If you weren’t on it before you certainly are now after what happened to Helena.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that but it did relax me a little. He’d made no mention of meeting my dad and I intended on keeping it that way.

  “What do you want?”