by Lee Hayton
Asha had been right about one thing. The news reporter was still banging on about the vampire escape and mass-turning. I shrank further into my oversize coat and pulled my cap down as he warned the viewers to remain extra-vigilant.
The changeover to rip control of the slaves away from the empire was in full-flight. I wondered how much the Pennyworth’s had paid to buy the news, night after night.
“Last up,” the reporter said, giving a small grin, “we now have a new report that vampires may actually be able to fly. At least, that’s what our man in the field—Bobby Newman—is telling us. Over to you, Bobby.”
The picture turned into one of a bat with most of its guts sprayed out across the grass. Miss Tiddles groaned and reached over for the remote, but I held it out of grasp.
“They’ve had it on for days,” she complained. “Stupid idiots now think vampires can turn into bats and fly.”
I looked on with renewed interest. Without having seen the men outside the shed in the hills, I couldn’t be sure it was them. The tiny tracker retrieved from the ‘vampire bat’ I did recognize, though.
When I laughed gleefully, the cat gave me a sour look. “What are you so happy about?”
“I did that,” I said, pointing the remote at the screen. “My friend stole a watch with a locating device on it. I stuck it on a bat and then threw it into the air to fly away.”
The look Miss Tiddles gave me didn’t indicate a comparable level of hilarity.
“You were hiding out from the empire soldiers, and you thought it was a good idea to steal some jewelry?”
“No, I didn’t. My friend did.”
“And where the hell is your friend?”
I opened my mouth to say ‘none of your business’ and the image of Jimmy burning to death in the sunlight filled up my brain. By the time I shook it clear, tears were running down my face.
“Why can’t you fly, anyway?”
I turned away from the cat and wiped at my cheeks, drying them on my ridiculously oversized coat sleeve. “What do you mean?” I asked when the spate of emotion seemed to be over.
“Well, you’ve got all those old legends about Dracula and his mates being able to turn into bats and fly away. Why can’t you?”
I stared at her, wondering if the alcohol had gone straight to Miss Tiddles’ head. “Because those are old children’s fables, not reality.” I shrugged. “Why the hell would you think any of that was real?”
“You’re real.” Miss Tiddles started to count off a list on her fingers. “You suck blood, you can’t go out in sunlight, you appear to be immortal. They’re all parts of the old legends, too. Don’t you ever feel that you have the ability to change?”
The cat crossed her hands over her belly and frowned down at them. “Isn’t there a sense inside you, of something that is clawing its way out?”
“The only thing I ever feel inside me is hunger,” I said. “I drink blood, it goes away.”
“It’s weird, that’s all.”
“Well,” I said, “what about you? How on earth did you get here? Does that meet up with all the legends?”
“My father was a cat, and he formed an unholy alliance with a human. How else?”
I stared at her, shocked. My eyes widened as I tried to think of an answer. Then I saw the curve of her lips—she was making fun of me.
“Just kidding. I was attacked by a werecat one night under a full moon, and he left me alive enough to transform into the beautiful beast you picked up outside the apartment.”
She tilted her head to one side. “So, yes. It does meet up with all the legends. The bit about the dog is a mistake, obviously. Foul creatures that wouldn’t have the right temperament for this gig at all, but the rest?”
“The wolf is a big part of it,” I pointed out. “Some would say the main bit.”
“Some people wouldn’t have a firm grasp on reality.” Miss Tiddles yawned, her jaw popping so wide open that I could see down her gullet, almost to her stomach. “But there are probably werewolves, too. I can’t imagine that just one species got all the transformative fun.”
“Well, once you find a werewolf who meets all the right qualifications, I’ll start trying to find out why I can’t turn into a bat. Deal?”
“Sure.”
I stood up and wandered over to the dart’s board. Behind my back, I could feel Mike’s eyes glaring at me. They burned small holes just between my shoulder blades. Leastways, that’s what I thought. When I turned around to check, he’d disappeared into a back room. Probably not to top up the supplies.
A man pushed open the door to the bar and the cat, Gwen, and I turned in unison. He looked up, clocked the curious stares, and slowly backed out again.
“Nice welcome you’ve got there,” I called out to Gwen. She gave me the finger and leaned back against the bar, staring intently at her nails.
“I’ll have another milk,” Miss Tiddles called out.
I caught the smirk on Gwen’s face and stomped over to pluck the glass from the cat’s hand. “No, you won’t.”
“But I—”
Miss Tiddles broke off as Asha came careening into the bar. Her face was flushed, and she was sweaty from running.
“Grab your things,” she yelled out, not bothering with a greeting. “We need to go!”
Chapter Eleven
Miss Tiddles stumbled as she tried to jump up. I caught her under the elbow as one of her legs tangled in the chair.
“Steady,” I said to her, then turned to Asha. “What’s the big hurry?”
“Just get a move on.” Asha turned and pushed the door back open, checking the street before waving us through. When Miss Tiddles stopped to blow a kiss to Gwen, I grabbed her by the shoulders and basically dragged her out of there.
“Where to?”
“Follow me,” Asha said, running again. “We need to get to the station. ASAP.”
“What about—?”
“You can change when we get there,” Asha said, cutting off my query. “I’ll take the cat in under my arm, and I’ve already ordered up a suitcase for you.”
Stupidly, I felt a jolt of sadness that I wouldn’t be able to travel in my usual case. Considering the stink I’d raised every time I had to clamber into the tight confines, there should have been no love lost. At least that case had been picked with care to fit my dimensions. I’d lined it with padding so if I was dropped—and Asha wasn’t as careful as she liked to think—then there’d be cushioning to stave off the worst of the impact.
“Can’t we just swing by the apartment?” I asked, already knowing that we couldn’t. “I don’t know what the big rush is.”
At that, Asha turned, so I ran straight into her titanium frame. It hurt. “The hurry is that we need to get on the train tonight. It’s the last one out of the city and if we miss it, then your chance is blown.”
“Can’t we just get one tomorrow?” I asked as she took off again, easily outpacing me. “Surely, you can change the ticket over at the office if you ask nicely.”
“The trains won’t be running again for a while,” Asha said. She didn’t explain further, and given the pace she was setting, I didn’t have the energy to ask.
If the trains weren’t running, that pretty much meant the city was on lockdown for real. Most people couldn’t afford cars, self-driving or otherwise. The cost of a taxi fare kept soaring as the damage to the vehicles grew on track with the inequality between rich and poor in the city.
If the residents were forced to stay in place, the anger might soon rise until the whole area was in revolt.
Either that or the poor citizens who could barely afford to get to the train station let alone snag a ride, wouldn’t notice. The rich would be the ones curtailed. They were also the ones with the funds to ensure the rules didn’t apply to them.
“How long until it leaves?”
Asha ignored my question, putting an extra burst of speed into her step. Even after drinking her laced beverages, the cat easily stayed a
breast of her pace. I was the one lagging. The oversized coat was heavy and dragged at my body, the cap obscured my vision, so I had to weave at the last minute to avoid obstacles along the way.
“Nearly there,” Asha observed as the station neon glowed out a welcome above our heads. “We’ll pop into the first bathroom we come across. If they’ve got a family changing area, get into the booth and lock it. I’ll be along later with a case.”
I nodded and kept my head down as we burst through the entrance doors. Even with the disguise, I was aware that my differences were easily spotted if anyone was looking. Especially in the climate of hysteria that the constant bombardment of inaccurate news reports had generated. With half my vision at floor level, I hoped like hell that the architects had seen fit to place bathrooms near the exit.
They had.
Asha ducked into one and shoved me bodily into the changing room with the cat. Once the door slammed behind her, I clicked on the lock and stared at Miss Tiddles through wide eyes.
“Well?” I said after a moment. “Aren’t you going to change?”
“Turn around,” she said, sighing. “I don’t like it when people are looking at me.”
She also turned her back, something I could see freely in the mirror mounted on the wall before me. As Miss Tiddles’ size dropped to a foot off the floor, her clothes disappeared into fur.
“How the hell do you do that?” I asked in wonder.
She meowed back and tilted her head to one side. Good point. I was an idiot.
A frantic knock came on the door, and I moved forward to flick open the lock when Miss Tiddles yowled at me. I stared down at her, freezing in shock at the sound.
“Um, full up,” I shouted at the door. “We’ll be a while. The baby made a big mess.”
I expected Asha to yell back through the door that I was a fool, but instead there was an angry thump on the door and then footsteps moving off.
Shit! Too close. I don’t know why I kept believing I was smart when first Jimmy and now a cat were outperforming me in the mental stakes.
After a moment of thought, I moved to the hinge side of the door. At least that way, if someone panicked enough to bust through the lock and entered, I could possibly overpower them and shove them out before they saw me.
Better late with the quick-thinking than never.
When the next rap at the door came, I tensed and opened my mouth to repeat the parody.
“It’s me,” Asha called through the door before I had the chance. “I’ve got the case and the nappies. Let me in.”
I twisted the lock open, and she slipped through the door, closing it with her elbow while I locked it in place again.
Asha tore the tags off the suitcase and opened it on the floor. The cat hopped in and out of it, playing. I gave it a resentful glare as I knelt inside, then pulled myself into as small a circle as I could manage. The world flipped out of sight as Asha closed the lid, shutting it.
When she tipped it upright, my weight transferred onto my back, crushing my spine against the hard floor.
What fun. I don’t recall Dracula having to put up with the fantastic suitcase trick. If Hollywood ever got around to producing a movie about vampires again—the first since the ban—then it would hold an embarrassment of… Well, just an embarrassment.
Asha lifted the case up and walked us out of the room. With the cat under one arm and me on the other hand, hopefully she wouldn’t look too different from any other traveler.
“Tickets!”
I couldn’t tell through the muffling of the case if that was a person or a machine. The latter would be reasonable in the ordinary course of business. If what Asha said was correct, and the lines were closing, then the first was more likely.
It didn’t matter how long humans had machines working by their sides, outperforming them, they still thought that when things went down to the wire, they did a better job.
Considering that Asha could hack either, I didn’t worry about it too much.
“Tickets! Young lady. Halt! You can’t take a live animal on the train.”
My stomach curled into as tight a ball as my body was in. What? When had that changed?
Stupid. If we’d known that, Miss Tiddles could be crammed in here with me.
Except she needed air, I reminded myself. Whereas some of us breathed it in and out with no regard for oxygen. It was merely a reflex that the body continued for no purpose, long after it should have ceased.
A synecdoche that. My entire body should long ago have ceased to be.
“Can’t I take her with me, just this once?” Asha’s voice was so full of pleading that the ticket collector would have to be made of stone to refuse her.
“It’s against the new travel guidelines, madam. You should have read the back of the ticket when it was issued to you. No live animals.” The voice paused for a long moment. “No dead animals, either.”
“It’s just a short trip. Only a hundred clicks, if that. My cat won’t hurt anybody. She’s all fed up. Please?”
Just mess him up, already. Time’s wasting.
“It’s not my decision to make. I’d lose my job if anybody found out and they’ll find out.”
“Could I perhaps offer some distraction that would have you look the other way?”
Oh, subtle. Nice one, Asha. Why don’t you just open your mouth and shout out, “Take my bribe?”
The guard's voice dropped lower. Even with my super hearing, I couldn’t make out the individual words. The tone was clear, however. No. No. No.
In case you misunderstood the first time—or the first dozen—no.
Miss Tiddles purr was thrumming against the top of my case. Asha must have put her down, and she’d be curled up purring, attempting to look cute. Good luck. The guard was definitely a human.
In some cases, it might appear they’d be a more natural target to talk around, but that wasn’t so. A machine didn’t have the brain capacity to dwell on its destruction. A human knew damn well the misery his or her life would be if they didn’t toe the party line.
Just switch around the chemicals. Get a move on.
As my case was moved forward a few inches, I realized that perhaps Asha wouldn’t be able to pull her magic trick here. Cameras would be peering into every nook and cranny of the station. That was why I’d pulled my cap down until I was half-blind after all. Nobody needed to be outed in this crowd.
If the guard started to act funny, Asha could wipe the memory of her visit from every CCTV camera in the station, it wouldn’t matter. The crowd of human flesh pressing in from all sides would remember. They’d describe her in detail, head to toe.
Why, yes. I do remember the appearance of a lady just before the ticket officer started waving everybody on board, willy-nilly. She looked like a five-foot-ten cyborg, and you just don’t see many of those.
Dammit. We were so close, and the whole plan was about to unravel because of Miss Tiddles. Frustration crowded up my throat, so thick I could taste it like cotton wool thrust into my mouth.
“Okay. But you need to take good care of her,” I heard Asha say. “She only likes people food. Give her something out of a tin, and she’ll turn up her nose at it. See you in a weeks’ time, kitty.”
My body froze in horror at the words. The revving engine sitting on top of the case, moved away, dulling to a faint roar.
She’d given away my bloody cat!
I tried to hit out at Asha’s leg through the suitcase, then bit my lips in exasperation. That wouldn’t help the situation any. If I drew attention at this late stage, there’d be more to mourn than a rehoused cat who was capable of looking after herself.
Still, I felt the dull anger of decisions being made without my input. I know that it didn’t make sense any longer to think of Miss Tiddles as my pet. From the moment she first changed—a secret I hid from Asha until the cat revealed it to her on her own terms—I’d known that I had no dominion over her. Still, the sense of connection was pure. The loss wa
s a keen blade slicing at the edge of my blackened heart.
“Miss! Excuse me, miss!”
Fuck me. What now?
Asha had only just moved us onto a train, and another voice of authority was chasing after her ass, bothering her.
“Let me check that ticket.”
“I’ve already shown it to the inspector outside. It’s all in order.”
Even I could tell from Asha’s voice that she was scared. I hoped that she was playing up on that emotion, using it to blend into the crush of people desperate to leave the vampire-infested city. If it wasn’t, then we were in big trouble. The only other time I’d heard Asha scared was when I threatened to leave her.
Yeah, I’m a prince.
“This isn’t for the right destination.”
“Yes, it is. It says right there.”
“This ticket is for a full-service train. This last ride is an express.”
“Does that matter? It still stops at the right destination.”
“No, it doesn’t. The train you want is going in the opposite direction.”
Wait. What?
Chapter Twelve
“When the bounty hunter’s institute issued me with this ticket,” Asha said, putting a note of steel in her voice where she’d expressed weakness just a minute before, “they told me that it was valid on any train out of the city. Are you saying that the head of the BHI is incorrect and that they’ve misled an agent of the cause?”
“Look. Ordinarily, the BHI info would be correct. We mix and match tickets all the time, but—”
“I don’t need to hear a ‘but’ from you,” Asha said. Her voice was so low that it crept along the floor at my height. “What I need is a reassurance that you’ll put your excuses away and let me get on with the business that the empire pays me to do. Obstruction is an offense whether you mean to do it, or not.”
The man fell back a step. Poor thing, I don’t blame him. When Asha became so angry that her baby-doll voice crept into an adult register, it wasn’t because you’d won her over.
“Do you want me to call back to head office?”
