The Wereling 1: Wounded

by Stephen Cole

  Tom offered little resistance as Tulung knelt on the back of his neck, forcing his face down against the floor. He felt a scratch on his cheek. One of the drug-tipped thorns fell to the floor beside him.

  Something sharp entered Tom’s back. He bucked, tried to lash out, but Tulung held his upper body fast. His front limbs were pinned to the floor, though he could barely move them anyway.

  You’re finished, he thought. This is how it ends. You die in some rented flat in New Orleans, a misshapen monster, cut apart by ’wolf maniacs.

  He growled, struggled to shift Tulung’s bulk, snapped his teeth.

  You lost Kate. You let her down when she needed you.

  ‘Don’t fight, my boy.’

  Now she’ll wind up raped or dead, and you did nothing. Nothing except get yourself killed.

  ‘It will only hurt more if you fight,’ insisted DeVries.

  But Tom couldn’t feel any more pain than he did thinking about Kate.

  With a roar so deep and loud it was almost deafening, he reared up and shook Tulung clear. The big man was hurled through the air, crashed heavily into one of the workbenches, and the camera he had placed there tumbled to the floor with him.

  The knife, or the needle, or whatever the hell it was pushed deeper into Tom’s back. He howled, but welcomed the pain. It was poking, pricking, stabbing his consciousness back to life.

  And giving it over to the wolf.

  ‘You’re our designated driver, Blood,’ Marcie snapped as she breezed out of the auditorium with Kate in tow. ‘Take us to the place you sent the boy.’

  Blood blinked in surprise and turned to the man guarding him, as if hoping for an explanation. ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You were given a fake address by Takapa,’ she snapped, ‘purporting to have come from one of your friends.’

  Blood stared at her and opened his mouth like he was about to swear loudly. Then he swept a hand over his face as if to wipe clean his expression, and was smiling, smooth and assured once more. ‘I knew it was fake. Blake’s out of town, out of contact. But I played along. Like I say, if I want to survive in this city I need protection.’

  ‘So you’ve sold your soul to Takapa,’ Kate said coldly.

  Blood looked at Marcie. ‘How did she wind up so melodramatic?’

  ‘Drive me to that address or you’re dead,’ Marcie hissed.

  ‘Ask a stupid question,’ Blood sighed.

  He allowed the guard to lead him outside to his car, and soon he, Kate, Marcie and her escort were underway.

  They drove in silence. On the back seat, Kate could feel her mother trembling in anticipation beside her.

  ‘What’s happening to the kid there, anyway?’ Blood wondered.

  ‘Like you care,’ said Kate sourly.

  ‘You can come up and see for yourself,’ Marcie told him. She lightly patted Kate’s leg and leaned in to her. ‘Remember poor Mark?’

  Kate said nothing.

  Marcie licked her lips. ‘This one’s going to be so much messier.’

  ‘Please, it’s not like it was with Mark.’ Hot tears forced themselves from Kate’s eyes. ‘I’ll let him turn me. I swear I won’t run away again. I’ll let you do what you want.’

  ‘That’s thoughtful of you, honey,’ Marcie said coldly. ‘But you should know I’ll do that anyway.’

  Kate clutched hold of her mother’s hand. ‘Please don’t kill him.’

  Marcie swatted her away. ‘You belong to Takapa, now.’

  Kate almost retched. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘He has no breeding, of course, but big ideas. And he’s not afraid to act, unlike so many of those weakling ’wolf fools.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps it is punishment enough to let him have you.’

  ‘Er, we’re here,’ Blood announced awkwardly, pulling in to the side of the road. ‘Top apartment.’

  Marcie turned to Kate. Her eyes flashed yellow. ‘After you.’

  The human part of Tom silently slipped away as the wolf overcame him. His twisted bones ground into true forms, strong and efficient. His trembling flesh became packed with muscle, and he groaned as warm, fresh strength poured through them. His snout grew longer, his teeth sharpened along with his vision. And he could smell another ’wolf close by.

  Not the man with the knife. He was backing away, terrified.

  It was Tulung. He’d shrugged off his human form like it was dirty laundry and now hunkered down, ready to spring. He made a massive ’wolf, barrel-chested, the hunched body rippling with powerful muscles and covered in rich, greying fur.

  A bell was ringing. It came from the door. But to Tom it served as a signal for the battle to begin.

  ‘No reply,’ shrugged Blood, taking his finger off the doorbell. ‘Maybe they went out for a pizza or something.’

  ‘Or they’re all dead,’ Kate murmured shakily.

  ‘Possibly,’ Blood conceded weakly, shrugging off his jacket.

  Kate saw his pale blue shirt was soaked with sweat.

  Marcie swore. ‘There must be a back way in.’

  The guard herded Kate and Blood after Marcie as she ventured down an alleyway.

  ‘Fire escape,’ Marcie observed. Then she smiled at Kate and corrected herself. ‘No escape.’

  The battle was brutal and dirty. The two ’wolves piled into each other, biting and clawing, anger and hate driving them on to greater and greater violence.

  Tom broke clear of Tulung, and strayed too close to the old man. A shrivelled hand darted out at him with a knife. Tom turned and snapped at the old man’s fingers, crunching through brittle bones. The sound of screaming rang in his ears, drove him away.

  Tom tasted blood in his mouth; what he craved. Why was it making him feel so sick? Suddenly he was being grappled to the ground, huge claws scraping at his chest. He sank his teeth into Tulung’s shoulder, tore ravenously at the thick flesh. But his opponent bit back, harder, sharper. Jagged teeth sliced into his neck. Dots of crimson misted his vision.

  ‘Lucifer’s arse,’ swore Blood, as Marcie threw open the back door of the apartment. ‘What the hell … ?’

  Kate took in the scene in frightened flashes. Splashes of blood on the wall. The old man wailing, clutching his hand. Tom, fully ’wolf now, all clothes torn away. His sleek body was locked in combat with a massive grey-black beast, rolling over and over through the trashed apartment.

  She ran forwards, but the guard yanked her back by her wrist. ‘Tom!’ she yelled.

  He turned to face her, his brown eyes wide and afraid.

  The other ’wolf, seeing Tom distracted, sank its jaws into his neck. Tom collapsed under its weight, howling.

  ‘Leave him, you idiot animal!’ Marcie shrieked. ‘He’s mine.’

  The attacking beast paid her no heed.

  Marcie seized a large curved dagger from a bench top, and in a moment slit the ’wolf’s throat wide open. The hulking creature spasmed, then fell heavily backwards, a bloody foam gushing from its wound.

  ‘Tulung,’ sobbed the old surgeon, reaching out, his ruined hand still leaking blood.

  Marcie kicked him hard in the face. He fell back, silenced.

  Kate saw Tom was still alive. He lay panting weakly, staring up at his saviour.

  She held her breath.

  ‘Now for you, you little bastard,’ Marcie spat.

  ‘Mom, no!’ Kate screamed, struggling against the guard holding her back.

  But her mother was already changing. Her hands curled into claws. Her spine was gnarling, hunching over. A terrible roar was building in her chest. Spittle splashed out of her open mouth.

  Kate shut her eyes, wished she could block her ears as the snarls grew louder and louder. Then stopped, with a loud, ringing thud.

  She opened her eyes to see Marcie lying face down on the floor, and Blood standing over her, wielding a heavy coal-scuttle.

  ‘Now just shut the bloody hell up!’ he told her lifeless body.

  Kate was thrown as
ide by the guard. She fell against the wall and banged her head. The guard pulled a gun from a shoulder holster hidden beneath his jacket and aimed it at Blood’s head.

  A cellphone started ringing, playing God Save the Queen at earth-shattering volume.

  On instinct, the guard looked behind him at the source of the sound.

  Blood swung the coal-scuttle up again in a wide arc. It connected with the underside of the guard’s jaw, knocking his head back. He went down like the proverbial ton of bricks. The gun fired, and a bronze statue rang with the bullet’s impact.

  Stunned, Kate pulled the cellphone from Blood’s abandoned jacket and hit ‘OK’. A woman’s voice whined out from the receiver.

  ‘Adam, are you there? It’s Lydia. This gathering is so over as far as I’m concerned. It’s not even a funny joke. Everyone’s leaving and … Adam? Hello?’

  ‘He’ll call you back,’ Kate said, and disconnected.

  Blood was staring in a kind of distressed wonder at the bodies littering the floor. ‘Jesus, I am a hero,’ he muttered, incredulously.

  ‘I thought you were the biggest, most traitorous bastard ever in the whole world,’ Kate informed him.

  The coal-scuttle slipped from Blood’s hand and clattered to the floor. ‘If you had only shut up for a minute back in the car and let me explain, I’d have told you I was trying to rescue you. But I couldn’t let Lydia know that was the reason I’d clobbered her friend, could I?’

  Kate decided Blood’s real, rougher accent suited him better. ‘I guess not,’ she agreed, rubbing the back of her head. She pushed past him to get to Tom, who was just lying there, prone in his ’wolf state.

  ‘Still, it’s probably just as well,’ Blood decided wearily. ‘You having a tantrum like that in the car helped convince your old mum I was on her side. Or at least, looking out for myself.’

  ‘Enough about you,’ Kate grumbled, pressing her fingers against the dark fur on Tom’s neck, soaked with saliva.

  ‘Is he OK?’ Blood asked seriously.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ The warm pulse under Kate’s fingers was ragged and erratic.

  ‘He’s still breathing, I suppose that’s something,’ said Blood dubiously. ‘But so is your mum. I don’t think I hit her hard enough.’ He gestured to the gun on the floor. ‘We could always … ’

  Kate turned and shook her head fiercely. ‘No. We’re not like her.’

  ‘I’m only being practical—’ He took a sudden breath. ‘My God … ’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Kate sharply, scrambling to her feet.

  ‘Tom. He’s changing back.’

  She watched the werewolf body, slumped on its front, as it writhed and shrank back into hairless, human form. ‘He’s going to be all right,’ she whispered, clutching Blood’s arm in relief.

  Tom was covered in cuts and bruises, there was an evil gash above his left eye, and he looked dreadful. But he was, undeniably, alive. Kate grabbed a crumpled, colourful cloak from the floor and laid it over him.

  Tom rolled over and his eyes focused on her. ‘Kate … you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘Great, in fact.’ She gave him an exaggerated wink. ‘Semi-colon-dash-right bracket.’

  He smiled drowsily. ‘It’s all so hazy. What the hell happened here?’

  She crouched down beside him, and took his hand. ‘I think we won.’

  ‘Tom, you ungrateful sod!’ cried Blood, picking up a scrap of white leather with a look of horror. ‘That’s the last time I lend you a pair of my shoes!’ He grinned. ‘Now pick yourself up, sharpish. Am I the only person who could really use a group hug right now?’

  Kate fell into a clumsy embrace with the two of them for a few seconds, giggling and sobbing with the sudden rush of relief. As she pulled away, her fingers brushed over the smooth skin of Tom’s bare neck. For a second, everything else in the room fell away. Kate felt as if there was just the two of them.

  Before she could get to grips with how she really felt about that, her foot caught a wire and a furious voice screeched tinnily from the overturned PC.

  ‘DeVries! You’ve ruined everything, DeVries! Answer me, what’s happening there?’

  Takapa.

  While Blood helped Tom into the cloak properly, Kate scooped up the little microphone she’d seen the professor speak into. ‘The professor and his pal have met with a slight accident,’ she hissed. ‘So you can kiss your sick little experiment goodbye, you pink-eyed freak.’

  In the PC monitor, lying on its side, she saw the live streaming video of him, standing alone in the auditorium. The picture was grainy and low-res, but there was no mistaking the fury clouding his ugly white face. ‘So long, see ya, wouldn’t want to be ya,’ she said. Then she ripped the microphone lead from its socket, and switched off the monitor. Static crackled as a beady blackness closed its big square eye.

  In the distance, sirens were sounding. Coming their way.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Tom said.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Kate nodded. ‘And go where?’

  ‘Anywhere,’ said Tom, surveying the bloody carnage in the room. He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Anywhere but here.’

  g

  g

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  That evening, Kate and Tom waited together in Bloodlettings’ New Orleans office while the proprietor crashed about in a back room, apparently tidying up a few bits of outstanding business.

  Blood ran back into the main office. ‘You might find this interesting. One of my pals reckons he really has found Jicaque’s address.’

  Tom groaned, pulled his borrowed sweater up over his head.

  ‘And it’s not a trick?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I spoke with him myself.’ Blood replied. ‘It’s not Takapa hacking into his e-mail account like last time. I doubt that albino could hack his way out of a wet paper bag after his demonstration disaster. His name will be mud as far as the lupine community’s concerned. At least until he can come up with something a bit more convincing.’

  Tom looked dubious. ‘So this lead is on the level?’

  ‘I’ll drive you there myself,’ Blood offered. ‘Then I’m on my way.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Tom and Kate chorused together.

  Blood shrugged. ‘If Takapa’s name is mud, mine must be absolute shit. Not even Lydia’s talking to me. So I’m going away until things calm down around here.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Tom muttered. ‘If we’d never come here—’

  ‘Forget it,’ Blood assured him. ‘I’ve not had a holiday in three years, I’m looking forward to it. And thanks to you, I’ve actually cleaned up a bit of this city’s dirt, instead of just watching and whining on about how god-awful it all is.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe now I can move on. But first things first.’

  ‘Jicaque?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No,’ Blood replied. ‘I need to know: in your e-mails, why the hell did you call yourself “Troll Lover”?’

  She smiled. ‘First, because I am wholly indifferent to trolls, so no one would connect me with that name. Second, and more importantly, because the name suggests some kind of intriguing and titillating deviancy which makes weirdos like you more willing to help me out.’

  Blood looked at Tom. ‘Devious little cow, isn’t she?’

  Tom nodded. ‘But smart.’

  ‘Just get the car,’ said Kate with a smile.

  They drove to the address in the French Quarter. Dusk was starting to creep in on the city. Tom felt eyes were on them everywhere they turned.

  ‘It’s up on the next right,’ Blood announced.

  Kate looked at Tom and held up crossed fingers.

  ‘This neighbourhood looks familiar,’ Tom said, as they slowed to a halt. ‘I think I wandered through here after I—’ His guts twisted with sudden recognition. ‘Oh no. It’s that place there, isn’t it?’

  The car had parked outside an old, run-down movie theatre. A faded sign read: Cinema Medin.

  Blood checked a
piece of paper. ‘This is the place. But an old movie theatre? Medin, Medin … ’ He frowned. ‘Sounds like it’s French.’

  ‘But it’s not, it’s meaningless.’ Kate swore. ‘No, not meaningless. It’s a clue. Cinema Medin. An anagram of “Medicine Man”.’

  ‘No one likes a smart-ass, love,’ chided Blood. But he was smiling.

  ‘Look. Above the entrance.’ Tom pointed to a large, grimy window that overlooked the faded hoarding. A banner there advertised MANDRAKE’S, ALTERNATIVE DIET SPECIALISTS. ‘A health food store.’

  ‘Just like the rumours said,’ Kate breathed. ‘Then this is the place.’

  ‘I went inside that movie theatre,’ Tom muttered softly. ‘There was a weird old guy in there, Inuit or something.’

  Kate stared at him. ‘But that must’ve been him! Jicaque himself! What did you—’

  ‘How was I supposed to know!’ Tom yelled. ‘He freaked me out, I ran away! The place was full of rats!’

  ‘Maybe that’s his alternative diet,’ suggested Blood unhelpfully. ‘How about we go in? Maybe you can see him all over again.’

  Cautiously, they left the car and got in through the old movie theatre’s open fire door. Nothing stirred in the gloom. As they moved further into the building, Tom stepped on something.

  The bloated body of a decapitated rat.

  Kate screwed up her nose. ‘Someone’s been here before us.’

  ‘Your mom?’ Tom wondered.

  ‘My pal says she hasn’t left Takapa’s place since she got away from that apartment,’ Blood reminded him.

  Kate snorted. ‘She can still tell others what to do, can’t she?’

  They pressed on, though Tom had a fair idea of what they’d find when they reached the apartment above the cinema.

  Sure enough, the way through was well signposted by kicked-down doors. Mandrake’s was a shambles, turned over from top to bottom as thoroughly as Blood’s office.

  A message had been spelled out in rat entrails on a splintered teak table. A crude little stunt, but the hairs rose on the back of Tom’s neck just the same as his eyes flicked over it.

  YOU’RE DEAD – SOON

  ‘Jicaque,’ mused Blood, ‘or us?’