The Music of Sound

by Ian Jarvis

  ‘Rex,’ he yelled. The aircraft was turning some thirty feet away and he shouted above the noise of the twin propeller engines. ‘Listen to me. Your eyes have changed and you need to calm down.’

  Rex reared on his hind legs, drooling and glowering at the new arrival. Vague recognition registered, but the beast had taken over and this was just another wolf - another threat that needed to be disposed of.

  The Colonel had lost all control and lashed out at Quist, tearing open the side of his neck in four deep gouges and splattering Rex’s face in hot arterial gore. It wasn’t the wisest move she’d ever made. Rex howled with fury, the tiny part of his mind that was still human recognising that his friend had been hurt. He leapt upon Adler, raking his talons through her face and ripping out her single red eye. The blinded she wolf screamed and, grabbing an arm and leg, Rex lifted her from the ground, swinging her furry bulk in circles before launching her into the closest aircraft propeller. The whirling blades chopped into the screeching creature and catapulted it into the dock.

  Clutching his torn neck, Quist watched Adler hit the water in several pieces followed by a string of intestine and bowel. ‘Goodbye, Colonel,’ he growled.

  Oblivious to the dismembered werewolf, the pilot briefly debated the shudder on his starboard engine, then completed his turn and sped away down the runway to take off into the night sky.

  ‘Rex...’ croaked Quist, grasping his wound. ‘Calm yourself and listen to my voice...’

  Turning to him, Rex saw the hot blood pumping over Quist’s fingers and licked his lips, his eyes blazing scarlet. One adversary was dead and here was another invading his personal space. He had to tear this wolf apart and then kill something else. He had to kill and continue killing.

  ‘Rex, I know part of you can hear me. You have to fight the dark urges and come back to me.’

  The wolves circled each other, the sleeker one snarling and salivating. Quist still felt weak from the silver bullets and was all too aware that when Rex attacked, it would be impossible to wrestle him off. There was a good chance his head would be torn from his body. Clearing his throat quietly, he began to sing.

  ‘By the light, of the silvery moon...’

  Rex stopped abruptly, but continued his loud snarling.

  ‘I want to spoon. To my honey I’ll croon love’s tune...’

  Furry pointed ears pricked up and Rex cocked his head to one side.

  ‘Honeymoon keep a shining in June...’

  Unable to help himself, Rex joined in, growling the lyrics through razor fangs. ‘Your silvery beams will bring love dreams, we’ll be cuddling soon...’

  ‘By the light of the moon,’ warbled Quist, moving towards him.

  The wolves sang in unison. ‘By the light of the silvery moon...’

  Rex began to calm down, his eyes changing from bright red to dull red, then to glowing amber. Quist released his healing neck to take hold of his friend’s muscular arms, slowly dancing as he sang. The younger wolf trembled and began to transform back into human shape.

  ‘Keep singing,’ murmured Quist, transforming too. ‘It’s working. By the light of the silvery moon, I want to spoon, to my honey I’ll croon love’s tune...’

  Watson arrived on the electronic buggy with Ligeia and Elva to find the two naked men dancing and singing to each other.

  ‘Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,’ he said. ‘Hey, nice song, Guv.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Quist. ‘An odd choice, as I mentioned, but rather appropriate, wouldn’t you say?’

  Chapter 40

  Adler’s Gulfstream jet stood near the terminal buildings with the pilot making his final instrument checks. He looked around as Quist opened the cabin door. Like Rex, the detective wore a baggage handler’s outfit found in one of the airfield storerooms.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded the pilot. ‘Where’s the Colonel? Where are the team?’

  Quist realised this must be the last of Adler’s men. His military piloting skills meant he’d been posted here, a fortunate turn of fate which had saved him from a nasty sonic death in the London Dome. Speaking of which, he’d doubtless be protected from Ligeia’s voice.

  ‘Last minute change of plan,’ said Quist, his features transforming and muzzle extending. ‘You’re wearing ear implants. Remove them NOW.’

  The whimpering man did as ordered, frantically digging out the tiny devices with his fingernails. A difficult task, Quist decided, when your hands are shaking and you’re attempting to get as far back as possible by climbing onto the aircraft instrument panel. The audio implants were tossed onto the carpet and, returning his face to normal, the detective brought Ligeia to the cockpit doorway.

  ‘Tell this man to calm himself,’ he said. ‘Tell him no one else is coming and he’s to do everything you say.’

  ‘Calm down,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘No one else is coming and you’ll do everything I tell you.’

  The pilot relaxed and nodded.

  ‘Thank you’ said Quist. ‘Now please repeat the following. He’ll take off shortly with you and Elva. His flight plan is for Miami, but he’ll bypass Florida and land in Cuba instead. He’ll tell the Cuban air traffic control that he has engine trouble and he has to make an emergency landing there. He’ll also forget that you’re a famous singer, everything about you and everything about his time with Colonel Adler.’

  Ligeia began speaking to the pilot and Quist turned to Elva who stood in the cabin with Rex and Watson. ‘You seem to be more... mature,’ he said. ‘Mature isn’t the correct word, but I believe you understand things better than Ligeia does. The pair of you were under Adler’s influence, but now you’re both free to live your lives. You need to take care of her, but you have to go somewhere where no one knows her. She’s probably never had anyone like you to help her before.’

  Elva signed to Watson.

  ‘She’ll look after her,’ said the youth. ‘She’ll make sure no one exploits her again.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Quist. ‘Remember you have to be anonymous. You have no passports or paperwork, but if you get Ligeia to speak to the right people in the Cuban airport, her voice will get you through. It will also secure you a boat passage from Cuba to the South American coast. There are many beautiful places there where you can live happily in obscurity.’

  ‘This might help,’ said Rex. ‘Look what I’ve found.’ He’d been searching Adler’s luggage and twisted one of the open cases around to show it was filled with American dollars and gold Krugerrand coins.

  ‘Excellent.’ Quist turned back to Ligeia. ‘Tell the pilot to make his final checks and let the tower know he’s ready to take off.’ He waited until she’d finished speaking. ‘Everyone knows the name Ligeia, so you can’t call yourself that anymore. Do you recall Lenny Logan’s name for you - Sally? Why not adopt that instead? You can say Elva is your sister, Elva Logan.’

  ‘I like that,’ said Ligeia. ‘Yes, Sally and Elva Logan.’

  ‘By the way, before you reach your destination, tell the pilot to stop working as a mercenary soldier and to find alternative employment, maybe in a bar. It will be far healthier for him.’ He picked up the pilot’s phone from the seat beside him. ‘Ask him to be a good chap and to unlock this, would you?’

  He watched as Ligeia’s instructions were followed and he took the man’s cigarettes and lighter from the seat. ‘Tell him to stop smoking too. It’s bad for him.’

  ‘Thinking about his health?’ said Watson. ‘Hey, you’re all heart, Guv.’

  A radio voice from the control tower informed the jet that it was clear to begin taxiing to the runway for take-off.

  ‘Well, it looks like this is goodbye,’ said Rex, sighing. ‘You have to leave now or they’ll want to know what the delay is.’

  ‘Come with us,’ said Ligeia, wrapping her arm
s around him and nuzzling her face into his neck. ‘You’re like us and we’ll have such fun together. The three of us could have sex every day by the ocean.’

  Watson swallowed uncomfortably, wondering if he’d get the same offer and how he’d explain it to his mum.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Rex. ‘It would be nice, but I really can’t. We might meet again one day, but my life is here and, believe me, you’re going to be okay with Elva.’

  Elva nodded vigorously.

  Siling sadly, Ligeia embraced Quist. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, a tear rolling down her face. ‘I’m so grateful for this and for how you helped me all those years ago.’ She kissed him and turned to hug Watson. ‘Thank you.’

  The teenager stiffened as both Ligeia and Elva kissed him long and hard.

  ‘Wow!’ He raised his eyebrows and grinned at Rex. ‘Tongue.’

  ***

  The three men watched the small jet take off and climb above East London, its twinkling lights eventually vanishing amongst the stars. Quist turned from the night sky to peer at the dark expanse of water beyond the airport runway.

  ‘I wonder...’ he murmured, staring thoughtfully at the Royal Albert Dock. ‘Did that propeller kill Adler? She was chopped into pieces and almost certainly decapitated, but the speed made it impossible to say for sure.’

  ‘Don’t ask me.’ Rex shrugged. ‘I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.’

  ‘I got a kiss from Ligeia,’ said Watson, still lightheaded from the earlier embrace. ‘An amazing kiss.’

  Quist held up the pilot’s phone. ‘We need to alert the police to Charlington Hall and the bizarre kidnapping by Alistair Ramson. Rex is in the clear, but we’ll have to work on our stories before we’re interviewed.’

  ‘A kiss from Ligeia,’ repeated Watson. ‘She actually licked my tonsils.’

  ‘You don’t say?’ Rex gave him a smug look. ‘I got a little more than a kiss in Scotland.’

  ‘Oh, lucky you.’ The youth grinned sarcastically. ‘Yeah, you probably do a little better than me with the girls, but I can stroke dogs and cats without them shitting themselves in terror.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘By the light of the silvery moon?’ snorted Watson. ‘You’re a werewolf and out of all the songs you could pick to calm yourself down, you chose that?’

  ‘It works for me,’ said Rex, defensively. ‘My grandmother has an old music box that plays it. I used to listen to it with her when I was a little kid.’

  ‘If you’re going to dance naked with men, maybe a nice Barbara Streisand song or something by Abba would be more appropriate?’

  ‘Yeah? Maybe go fuck yourself would be more appropriate?’

  ‘The song by Shaggy? Yes, wolves are shaggy, so that would work too.’

  Quist lit two of the pilot’s cigarettes and handed one to Rex. ‘Ah, my two best friends are bickering like childish idiots.’ He gave a lopsided smile. ‘It’s good to have a happy ending with everything back to normal.’

  ***

  It was three in the morning and the dark quayside along the northern edge of the Royal Albert Dock was deserted. The full moon reflected on the black surface as Irana Adler emerged from the depths and slowly hauled herself onto the side. She vomited water before sprawling naked on her back, trembling and groaning.

  ‘Fuck,’ she hissed, sputtering up more fluid.

  The aircraft hadn’t sliced off her head, the profanity was proof of that, but her left arm was missing and most of her right leg. Incredibly, both appeared to be slowly growing back and the propeller gouges had virtually vanished. By dawn, the unbelievable regenerative process would be complete. Her stomach was healing too, which was fairly surprising as she’d been agonisingly disembowelled.

  This was astounding, but she had to learn more about her lycanthropy. The wolf had taken over earlier and she needed to master discipline and control before transforming again - before making people pay for crossing her. With her martial arts and combat skills, no one could ever hope to best her once she was in control.

  The majority of her blood must have drained away in the dock, but like her limbs, it was renewing itself. The lack of blood was probably behind this overpowering compulsion to eat meat.; her body obviously required iron. Surely there couldn’t be any other reason? A rare steak would feed the cravings, but any meat would suffice and the rarer the better.

  Adler let out a manic laugh. ‘Meat,’ she growled. ‘Where can a girl find meat at this time in the morning?’

  Also from Ian Jarvis

  A contemporary Sherlock Holmes, the eccentric Bernie Quist is a consultant detective in the city of York. Christmas is days away and once again the reclusive sleuth will be quietly celebrating alone. His assistant Watson, a teenager from the Grimpen housing estate, has other ideas, mostly involving parties, girls and beer. Yuletide plans are halted when three chemists die and the fiancé of one hires them to look into her apparent suicide. After discovering the chemist wasn’t engaged, they’re drawn into the mystery when their employer is killed.

  About the Author

  Ian was born in the north of England, where he worked for three hectic decades as a firefighter with West Yorkshire Fire and Rescue. He lives in a village near Selby, where he writes humorous detective novels chronicling the exploits of private investigator Bernie Quist. Ian travels regularly, usually through Asia and the Americas. His interests include walking the North York Moors and Yorkshire Dales, natural history with an emphasis on birds, real ale, and ridding the world of all known evils. He also feels decidedly peculiar speaking in the third person and may have to do this in the future using a sinister ventriloquist’s doll.

  You can visit a digital Ian at ianjarviswriter.com

  Or lurking on Facebook at facebook.com/ian.jarvis.165

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