Lupine Howl: The Complete First Series (All 8 books)

by Amy Cross

  Mena smiles. "He's all around," she says.

  I suddenly notice that I'm swimming in a sea of blood. "You work fast," I say, slightly disgusted.

  Mena shrugs. "There wasn't very much of him. And he didn't put up much of a struggle".

  Treading water, I stare at her. "Did you know all along that he wasn't dangerous?"

  Grinning, Mena swims closer to me. "I had my suspicions. But without this carnival, what am I supposed to do? The audience kept the illusion going because it meant he would be entertained every night, and because he could occasionally choose to feed off one of the creatures. I played along because I'm quite happy here in my little tank". She looks sad for a moment. "Though it gets very lonely".

  "You and the audience are quite similar," I say. "You both had fearsome reputations that weren't quite accurate".

  "Vigrous Grinde is the real fool in all of this," Mena says. "He was tricked by the audience, and he created this monstrous place".

  I suddenly remember Darla. The last time I saw her, she was in agony with her mutilated hand. "I have to go and check on someone," I say. "I'll be back soon". I turn and swim to the edge, but suddenly I feel Mena's tail wrap around me and pull me back. She's strong, and although I struggle, I can't break loose.

  "I'm sorry," she says, putting her arms around me. "I like you too much, Jessica. I can't possibly let you leave. I don't want to be alone".

  A chill runs through me. I manage to turn around so that I'm facing Mena. "You have to let me go," I say. "I can help you. I can get you to the ocean again, you can be free".

  "I don't want to be free," she says. "I like it here. I just don't want to be lonely". She smiles. "Don't you like me, Jess? Don't you think I'm beautiful?" She stares at me, and I stare back at her. With her dark eyes, beautiful smile and large, round breasts, she's stunning. "I understand," she says. "Like you said to the audience, I'm just a big fish".

  "I didn't mean that," I say.

  Without warning, Mena leans closer and kisses me, right on the lips. It's only a brief kiss, but when it's over there seems to be some extra connection between us. And then, suddenly, she tightens her tail's grip around me, and then she pulls me underwater, dragging me down to the bottom of the tank. I struggle, trying to get loose, but her tails just wraps even tighter. I look over and see her staring impassively, watching me die. Every time I try to pull free, it seems like she just squeezes me tighter and tighter. Finally I start to loose the strength to keep pushing, and I feel water rushing into my lungs. I look up at the top of the tank, at the faint light, and then everything goes black.

  20

  "Any last words?" he asks.

  21

  "I'm sorry," says Mena as I open my eyes. "I just..." She looks away, and she seems sad. "It gets lonely here sometimes, and I wanted you to stay".

  I sit up slowly. My lungs ache, my whole body feels as if I've just been through a meat-grinder. Suddenly I cough up a mouthful of water, spewing it onto the ground. I'm by the side of the tank, with Mena watching me from the water.

  "I thought I was going to die," I say, my voice rasping.

  "You almost did," she says. "Please accept my apologies. I realised at the last minute that I was wrong, and... I hope there's no lasting damage".

  "I think I'm okay," I say.

  "If you were human," she replies, "you would most certainly have died. Fortunately werewolves are a little tougher".

  "Apparently," I say, and then I remember something. "Darla!" I get to my feet. "I have to go and check on her".

  "Of course," says Mena, looking sad. "But please remember that if you ever want to come back in the water with me, voluntarily, I would..." She smiles sadly, and blushes a little. "I would like that. I like you very much".

  "I..." I start to say, but I'm not sure how to react. "I'll come back and see you," I blurt out, rushing down the steps and out of the tent.

  When I find Darla, she's sitting with the other werewolves. Stephen is bandaging her hand, which looks red and raw still. But despite the obvious trauma, Darla herself is smiling and seems happy to see me.

  "Hey, darling," she says as I enter the tent.

  "Hey," I say. "How's the hand?"

  "Still got it," she says. "Barely".

  "But you're a werewolf," I say. "We're tough. Your hand'll be fine, right?"

  Stephen grunts. Is that his way of laughing? He looks at me. "The Criad's venom was strong. I don't think she'll get the flesh back on her hand, but she'll be able to use it still. And the pain should subside".

  "Where have you been?" Darla asks. "Where's the audience?"

  "He met Mena," I say, smiling. "There's not much left of him now".

  Darla smiles. "So he wasn't a little god after all?"

  I shake my head. "He was just a little creature who managed to trick everyone here into believing he was all-powerful". I sit next to Darla and take a close look at her hand. With no flesh, it's just a red mass of muscle, tendons and veins. It looks kind of gross, but I guess it works and that's all that really matters.

  "What you gonna do now, darling?" Darla asks.

  "I have to go to London," I say. "I have to find my friend".

  Darla nods. "We've been talking, and we've all decided to keep the carnival up and running".

  I frown at her. "Seriously?"

  "It's home," she says. "We belong here. We like each other".

  I nod, kind of understanding. I had a home once. I'd like one again. "Mena will probably remove the implants for you, if you ask nicely. She's really not so bad". I pause. "But hang on, what about Vigrous Grinde? Is he just going to hand over the whole carnival to you?"

  Stephen grunts again. I really think that's his way of laughing. Weird. "Look at this," he says, leading me over to the other side of the tent. To my shock, I see the large, fat form of Vigrous Grinde, curled up and squeezed into a little cage. He look out at me, with a helpless expression on his face.

  "What the hell?" I say.

  "There's only one freak in this freak show," Stephen says, smiling. "Don't worry, we'll let him out occasionally, so he can dance for us". He points to a piece of wood next to Grinde's cage. "Look," he says, grinning. "We even put a sign up".

  I smile as I read the sign next to Grinde's cage:

  CAUTION

  Do not enter the water

  Do not speak to the creature

  Do not obey the creature

  Do not touch the creature

  Do not believe the creature

  "Nice," I say. "Poetic".

  "We took it away from Mena's tank," Stephen says. "For now. We'll see how it goes". He smiles, and it's clear that he understands that Mena isn't so bad after all.

  "Where's the audience"? Grinde asks, a hint of terror in his voice. "Is he coming for me?"

  I open my mouth to tell him that the audience is dead.

  "He's gone," says Stephen, before I can say anything. "But he might come back, so you'd better behave, okay?"

  Grinde nods. "Just keep the audience away from me. Don't let him find me".

  Stephen and I turn and head back over to Darla and the others.

  "What about Mena?" I ask.

  "We'll sort something out," Stephen says. "I'm not convinced we can trust her, though. She's dangerous".

  "You've got to stop thinking like that," I say. "Grinde fooled you. He lied. Mena's..." I pause for a moment. "Mena's no more dangerous than any of the rest of us. You just have to treat her right". I look around the tent. It all seems so calm and ordered now. "I should get going," I say finally. "I need to get to London. I have to find out where Duncan is".

  "Good luck," says Stephen.

  I head out into the clearing, followed by Stephen and Darla. I look over at Mena's tent. "Do you promise," I say, turning to Darla, "that you'll treat her properly? You won't just leave her alone in that tank?"

  "I promise," says Darla.

  "Okay," I say. "Then... I hate long goodbyes. Tell her I'll come back and see her ag
ain some time okay?"

  I hug Darla, and then - to his obvious surprise - I hug Stephen. Then I turn and walk across the clearing and out through the main gate. Joe's old truck is still parked there, and when I look inside I find the keys are still in the ignition. Grasping the first bit of luck that's come my way in a while, I climb in and turn the key. The engine bursts into life, and the fuel gauge shows the tank's almost full. It won't get me to London, but it'll get me part of the way, and that's better than walking.

  I turn the truck around, but suddenly Darla appears at the window. I roll down the glass.

  "I'm coming with you," she says excitedly, running around and jumping in through the passenger door. "Is that okay?"

  "Sure," I say, "but I thought you wanted to stay here? You said the carnival was your home".

  "It is," she says. "And I'll be coming back real soon. But everyone needs a holiday. I have some people I'd like to see in London, so I figured, if you want the company, I could head there with you. It'd be a kind of werewolf road trip".

  I smile. "Sounds like the title of a really cheesy movie".

  "Come on," Darla says, holding up her fleshless hand. "Don't make me claw you".

  I put the truck into gear and we head off down the bumpy dirt road. It's good to have Darla with me, at least for now. It'll make the journey more bearable. I have a feeling that when we get to London, and when I start looking for Duncan, I'm going to be getting myself into some serious trouble. I can't explain it, but somehow I can sense that he's still alive, but I can also sense that he's in pain. He needs me. He's rescued me in the past. Now I'm going to rescue him. Nothing can stop me. Nothing.

  Epilogue

  All is still.

  All is silent.

  I wait.

  Though it is ending violently, and painfully, my life has been good. There have been good times. I have run faster than most. I have experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows. I have loved, and lost, and loved again.

  From the highlands of Scotland to the bowels of London, I have escaped death many times. Perhaps I allowed myself to believe that my run of good luck would hold forever.

  I assumed that my master's threats were empty.

  I doubted his determination.

  I doubted his authority.

  I doubted his truth.

  I doubted all.

  I failed him.

  I fell hard.

  I lost.

  The last thing I hear is the swish of a blade as it flies through the air.

  The last thing I feel is the blade slicing straight through my chest, cutting me in half.

  The last thing I see, in my mind, is Jess's face.

  The last thing I know is love.

  Book 5:

  The Architect

  Prologue 1

  When I retired from the church, I believed my days of service to the community were over. For nearly half a century, I served St. Mary's Church dutifully. I officiated at weddings, funerals and christenings, and I gave sermons to packed congregations. But then, shortly before my 60th birthday, my eyesight began to fail. I struggled on for some time, hoping that God would spare my vision. But finally, as I turned 62, I found that even simple tasks such as reading were beyond me. I was forced to resign my position. By the time I turned 63, I had become completely blind. I do not know why God chose to let this happen to me, but I have accepted my blindness with humility.

  Then, a couple of days ago, I received a phone call from someone I had not heard from in many years. It was Thomas Lumic, an intermittent parishioner who wanted to know if I would be able to officiate at a funeral. I told him that I am blind now, that I am retired from the priesthood. But he was most insistent. He said that it was very important to him that I should be the one who should take charge of the funeral. No-one else, he said, would be right for the task. It had to be me. I protested, but eventually I was persuaded to come out of retirement for one final funeral.

  So here we are, in the cemetery of St. Mary's Church. I cannot see anything, of course, but I can hear a small gathering of people who have come to bid farewell to their loved one. And Thomas Lumic is here, holding my arm and guiding me through the gravestones until we reach the freshly-dug grave.

  "And what is the name of the deceased?" I ask him quietly.

  "Duncan," Lumic replies in his usual dark, hoarse voice. "He had no surname".

  Now that I am blind, I find that my hearing has improved a little. And standing at the graveside, I can hear whispered voices nearby, but also other sounds: strange, unearthly, ghostly sounds. I suppose I must be imagining things.

  "Dear friends," I say. "We are gathered here today to pay our last respects to Duncan. I am afraid that I know very little about Duncan, about his life, about the kind of man that he was. But the fact that we are here today to bid him farewell, is a sign that he touched our lives in some way. To have inspired us to come and bid him farewell, he must have done great things for each of us, and for that may we be thankful to the Lord, that he allowed us to know Duncan for as long as we did". I pause, not sure what to say next. Thomas Lumic has given me no information about Duncan, which really leaves me in a difficult position. Nevertheless, I must keep going. There are people here who mourn Duncan, and who are saddened by his passing. "We must each remember," I say, "and keep in our hearts, that which made Duncan special to us. I will now invite any of you gathered here today, to step forward and say a little about this man".

  I wait. No-one speaks up. Instead, I just hear the same strange sounds as before. One of the sounds is snakelike, hissing with a faint rattle. Another sound is heavy and hard-breathing, and seems to be coming from many metres up in the air. If I didn't know better, I would say that an assortment of monsters had gathered around this grave. If only I could see...

  "We must all," I say finally, a little put off by the sounds around me, "remember Duncan in our own private way. Though his body is gone, his spirit remains with us, and we are all, I am sure, enriched by the time that we spent with him. Amen".

  "Amen," says Thomas Lumic from behind me, but his is still the only voice. Why do the others remain so silent?

  "I will now ask," I say, glad to be coming to the end of this unusual situation, "that the coffin be lowered into the grave".

  I hear some feet shuffle towards the grave, and then there is a sudden loud thud as something heavy lands in the grave. It doesn't sound like a coffin at all. It sounds like someone just tipped a body straight into the ground. And then, just as suddenly, there is a second thud, as if the body has been thrown down into the grave in two pieces.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. What have I got myself into? What kind of... I take a deep breath. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to bring this service to a close and then perhaps bid good-day to the mourners. Whatever is going on here, I would rather not be a part of it. It feels... strange and inhuman, and ungodly.

  "Lord our God," I say, raising my head as if to look heavenward. "We commend the body of Duncan to your service, and we ask that you bless him with your kind understanding of the difficulties of life on this Earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust".

  I wait. All around me, there are strange sounds: hissing, rattling, shuffling, growls, like a menagerie of the world's most fearsome creatures.

  "Thank you, father," says Thomas Lumic. He takes my arm and leads me away.

  "I must say," I whisper as we depart, "that was one of the more unusual funeral services that I have attended".

  Lumic laughs a little. "Be glad, father," he says eventually, "that you are blind".

  Prologue 2

  "Don't worry about her," shouts Darla, swigging from the bottle of vodka as the car bounces along the dirt road. "She's worried about a guy. Some guy. I can't remember his name". She turns to her friend, who is sitting in the back. "What's his name again, darling?"

  "Duncan," says Jess.

  It's been a couple of hours since I picked these two hitch-hikers up by the side of
the road, a couple of miles west of Exeter. I'll be honest and admit that since they're both pretty hot, I was hoping there might be some action. Unfortunately, it looks like things aren't heading that way at all, since Darla's clearly drunk out of her mind and Jess seems too broody and distracted to have any fun.

  "So where are you girls headed again?" I ask.

  "London town," Darla shouts excitedly. She raises a clenched, gloved fist and laughs. "We're gonna hit it hard".

  "Cool," I say as I turn the car onto the next road. There's a gas station up ahead. I glance at the meter on my dashboard. We're down to just under half a tank. I guess that's a good enough excuse. "Sorry, ladies," I say, pulling into the gas station. "Pit stop".

  The girls wait in the car as I fill up and pay. Then I return to the car and start the engine, but instead of going back to the road I drive around the side of the gas station and pull up again.

  "What are we doing here?" Jess asks from the back seat.

  "Nothing," I say. "Just... Don't take this the wrong way, but I just filled up a tank of gas, and it cost me quite a lot of money. Now -"

  "We told you we haven't got any money," Darla says, swaying a little.

  "I know," I say. "And that's fine. That's totally fine. I don't want money. But I was thinking maybe there's some other way you girls could repay me".

  They both stare at me.

  "You know," I continue, "for my generosity?"

  Darla looks at Jess, and Jess looks at Darla.

  "I mean, I'm not being mean or anything," I say, "but I've been on the road a while and I could use some stress relief. And..." I stare at them. The way they're looking at me is deeply, deeply unnerving. "Well," I say, "I didn't mean to embarrass you, ladies".

  "You want a handjob?" Darla asks, staring at me with an uncanny glint in her eye.

  Well, that's not what I was expecting. I was kind of hoping for some threeway action, but I suppose a handjob isn't the worst that could happen. And it might lead to something else. "Sure," I say, nodding. "Sure".