by Stephen Cole
Sickened with himself, fighting against every instinct his ’wolf possessed, Tom backed away from her, threw back his head and roared in angry frustration.
She recoiled from him, then scrabbled to her feet. Her movements were jerky, like she didn’t have full control of her body. Tom knew the feeling. Then she turned and fled through the open door.
Tom turned back to the old man, who had shaken off his protectors and was signalling to them to stay back. There was no fear in his stern, lined face, just as there was no colour in his rheumy old eyes. Tom’s animal instincts sensed in him that same great, unsettling power he’d felt up on the roof.
He turned and bolted from the room, ignoring the dull throb from his injured ankle, and followed the ripe, delicious smell of the girl.
It led him to a heavy door at the end of an empty, blank-walled corridor marked ‘Emergency Exit’. He slammed the door open and bounded into a dark stairwell. He didn’t need to scent the air to know the girl had fled straight down the concrete steps.
He was about to follow when he heard a door being flung open on the next floor down. A clatter of running footsteps rose to an echoing crescendo. The sentries he’d scented earlier, coming for him, getting closer. He sensed their eagerness. They were ready to turn ’wolf themselves.
As the guards turned the corner of the stairwell, Tom pounced from the top step, claws bared, snarling out a terrifying warning.
He landed in their midst, taking them by surprise and sending them scattering. One of them pulled a gun on him. Tom swiped the weapon aside with his raking claws. Two more tried to grip hold of Tom’s neck, but he shook himself free, slamming his attackers back against the damp walls.
Then he was away, bounding off down the steps four at a time, gathering speed and meeting no more opposition all the way down to the ground-floor stairwell. The fire door stood open, and a shrill alarm was ringing idiotically, pounding into Tom’s sensitive lupine ears.
He shot out of the building into the overgrown yard. There was the tall chain-link fence ahead; but a rusted corner of the mesh had torn loose from one of the concrete posts, enough for someone to slip through. The girl’s scent led here; she’d got away, then, into the cold, quiet street.
Tom pushed through the gap and set off in pursuit.
He tried to force himself to change back into his human shape, but the lupine in him resisted – wanted to hunt down the girl and tear her sweet, delicious flesh into bloody chunks. Struggling so hard against the bloodlust that threatened to overwhelm him, Tom didn’t notice someone jump out from the parked van until it was too late. He didn’t see the hypodermic needle that was plunged down hard into his neck. He barely even felt the cold spill of its contents seeping through his powerful muscles, before a numbing red darkness smothered his senses.
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Kate held her breath as Blood rapped smartly on the locked glass entrance doors of the Bane Gallery. She could see a security guard slumped behind the reception desk, shaking his head at them.
But Blood was not to be deterred, and kept up his banging with an occasional ‘Hello there!’
Playing the uncomprehending Englishman in Armani finally got results. The guard, an enormous middle-aged man with thinning ginger hair and a collection of chins, lumbered over with a curious look in his eye. ‘We’re closed!’ he called out through the glass.
‘We have an appointment,’ Blood called back cheerily. ‘I’m from the realtors – we’re here about the survey.’ He showed the guard one of his Blood Lettings business cards, but Kate noticed he carefully covered the New Orleans address with his thumb. ‘If you could just let us in?’
‘Miss Black didn’t say anything about appointments today,’ the guard reported, shaking his head dubiously and setting his chins wobbling.
‘An oversight, I’m sure,’ Blood told the man confidently. ‘I arranged the appointment with Miss Black myself. Look, do you think you could let us in while we sort this out? Dash it all, it really is parky out here.’
The guard’s eyes glimmered with amusement at his exotic visitor. He turned to Kate. ‘You English too?’
‘Er – rather,’ she said in a sort of high-pitched squawk.
Her answer seemed to please the guard. He unlocked the door and showed them inside. ‘Where are you guys from? London?’
‘That’s very astute of you!’ beamed Blood. ‘Yes, indeed we are.’
‘I love your accents,’ said the guard, locking up behind them then turning to Kate. ‘Say something! Anything!’
She blushed. ‘Er … one loves to play … croquet!’ To her own ears, her strangulated screech sounded like she’d just sat down on a cactus in polite company.
The guard frowned.
‘My assistant has a cold,’ said Blood, shooting her a daggered look.
The guard, who seemed a little uncertain now, glanced back at his desk. ‘Miss Black’s up on the third floor – I’ll go call her. Why’d you say you were here?’
‘Valuation, old chap. The place needs a market value for the insurers, I don’t doubt.’ Blood grinned at the guard, eyes bright and twinkling. ‘Tell you what, we’ll head up to meet her while you tip her the wink we’re coming. All right?’
‘Well,’ said the guard, ‘I don’t know if—’
‘Jolly good!’ called Blood, already heading for the stairs. ‘See you later, then.’
Kate followed close behind him before the guard could say another word – and more importantly, before she had to.
‘Nice going, Trolly,’ muttered Blood in his more usual tones. ‘You sounded like an Australian spinster on helium.’
‘I never said I could do accents!’ Kate protested.
‘Just come on. If the mysterious Miss Black’s on the third floor, let’s check out the first and see how far we get.’
‘And when that security guard finds out you’re full of crap?’
‘I play the stupid Englishman and tell him I thought this was the Spain Gallery on West Erie Street.’
Kate grimaced. ‘And if Miss Black is a lupine and realises who we are?’
Blood shrugged. ‘We run like bloody hell.’
At the top of the stairs they pushed through some teak double doors and found themselves in a spacious gallery area, all white walls and parquet flooring. Lengths of timber planking were piled in one corner, along with a collection of well-used carpentry tools. A few planks had already been laid out in a wide rectangle at the far end of the hall.
‘Looks like they’re building a stage,’ Kate observed.
Blood mused on this. ‘Maybe we’ve figured Takapa all wrong. Perhaps all he ever wanted to do was tap dance.’
Kate held up her hand. ‘Shh …’ She shivered as the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up.
Blood frowned. ‘You all right?’
‘I don’t know …’ Kate replied. ‘It’s just – just this weird feeling that there’s something in here with us.’
‘From that bulldog-licking-dung-off-a-nettle expression, I take it not a very nice something,’ said Blood, looking around with studied cool. ‘I don’t see—’
‘Through here,’ Kate said, swallowing hard. She felt weirdly drawn to a matt white door set discreetly into one wall. Silently, she led the way over. Her hand froze as she reached for the door handle. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She was suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea.
‘Trolly?’
‘It’s in there,’ she whispered.
Blood sounded concerned now. ‘Are you seriously telling me you’re suddenly psychic?’
Kate pushed open the door. It opened on to a near-identical gallery, just a little smaller – and far chillier. Dozens of modern, uncomfortable-looking chairs were stacked in the centre in teetering piles. Towards the back of the room stood a screen fashioned from black, lacquered wood.
Blood surveyed the scene with a jaded eye. ‘Well, either you were picking up the presence of a really rubbish art installation, or this is just a storage
area.’
‘What’s behind the screen?’ Kate asked nervously.
Blood crept stealthily over to the black screen then peeped behind it. Slowly, he straightened. ‘You recall the invitation? Centuries-old König Man, dug up from a peat bog in Germany?’
‘You thought it might be some kind of code,’ Kate replied.
Blood turned back to Kate, his face grave. ‘I’m afraid I was talking bollocks. He’s right here.’
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CHAPTER FIVE
Kate joined Blood by the screen to see for herself, and a frisson of deep, instinctive fear scratched down her spine.
The body, laid out on royal purple padding inside a glass casket, was a murky brown colour. Its form had been warped and twisted by the preserving sediment. The nose was little more than two holes poked into the ancient face; eyes were half-melted crusts, mouth fused into a barely discernible line. The arms were folded over the mutilated chest and stomach, and legs had shrivelled into awkward angles.
The thing was horrible, and to Kate it exuded evil. She shuddered, pushing her hands deep into her new coat’s pockets, grateful for its warmth.
‘For the attention of Araminta Black …’ Blood had picked up a hefty sheaf of papers that had been left on the glass case. ‘Aha. Maybe we’ll find some clues in here. This feller’s König Man, all right,’ he confirmed, flicking through the document. ‘And this would seem to be the babysitter’s handbook, prepared by the German labs – guidelines on proper storage, temperature requirements … and a summary of the body’s condition.’
‘Disgusting?’ Kate suggested.
‘Goes into a little more detail,’ said Blood, peering at the page. ‘This man did not die of natural causes. He was carefully tortured and executed.’
Blood read on, but Kate couldn’t concentrate on his words. The desiccated eyes seemed to burn out at her from the misshapen face, and something dark inside her seemed to shift and stir. She recognised the feelings from last night’s dreams – the feeling of the ’wolf in her blood, hungry for release. She bit her lip, backing away from the sinister exhibit.
‘We need to get out of here,’ she croaked. ‘Now. I can’t explain how I knew that body was here, but—’ Suddenly Blood lunged forwards and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened indignantly but he shook his head.
‘Heard something,’ he whispered.
Kate held still. There was a slow regular tapping noise coming from a distance away. But drawing closer. It sounded like it was being made by a formidable pair of heels.
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Tom’s senses drifted back to him one by one. It was dark; he could hear things shifting around him, whispers and scuffling sounds with a metallic edge. The ground was cold and hard against his back and butt, but perfectly smooth – he’d been propped up against something metal. His injured ankle felt a lot better – the faster metabolism of the ’wolf was a good healer.
An old blanket had been thrown over his naked body. Where was he? There was a nasty, chemical taste in the back of his mouth. He could smell the sweat of several men close by, and something sweeter – the girl he’d rescued. She was here too, somewhere in the darkness.
‘He’s coming round, Chung,’ someone said.
‘About time,’ replied another voice.
Tom recognised it: the Asian guy he’d encountered the night before. Chung. He tried to speak back. ‘You’re from the Dark Chapter …’
‘Wolf boy’s smarter than we thought,’ said the first voice.
Again, there was the close, metallic echo – Tom guessed he was shut in somewhere small and enclosed.
‘What did you do to me?’ he asked.
‘Knocked you out,’ said Chung. ‘Can’t have you getting past us again, showing the whole damn neighbourhood you’re a ’wolf. Chill out – the effects don’t last long.’
‘What do you want?’ Tom persisted. ‘Why did you come after me last night? Did Takapa send you?’
‘Takapa? Get real. We don’t take orders from him,’ Chung replied dismissively. ‘But now we know for sure you’re a ’wolf, you’re our business. We need to talk.’
Tom felt a brief wash of relief, but sensed he was still very much in danger. ‘I know your Chapter’s Dark and all, but can’t we talk with the lights on?’ He tried to sound nonchalant. ‘Or is that against your religion?’
‘Funny,’ said Chung.
An emergency lantern clicked on, the kind Tom’s dad carried in the car in case they broke down somewhere. Steady flashes of cold bright orange lit up Tom’s surroundings, and he saw he was in the back of a van.
Chung was holding the lantern. He was in his early twenties maybe, with close-cropped black hair and a smooth complexion. He was flanked by three sidekicks – one with a disconcerting squint, who stared at Tom with some hostility. Tom wondered if he was the guy he’d sent sprawling outside his old apartment. Behind them all, the girl from Takapa’s building was lying still in one corner, apparently asleep, winking in and out of existence with the flashing of the torch. She was still clutching the crimson blanket tight about her.
‘We don’t have religion,’ Chung said. ‘We have rules. And if you’re staying in our city, you’ll do well to follow them.’ He held out a hand. ‘I’m Ryan Chung.’ He gestured to the guy with the squint. ‘This is Russ Fayn, my deputy and right-hand man. These two are Zac and Mike. They’re my enforcers.’
Tom took the offered hand. Like Chung himself, Russ Fayn and the other two looked more like stockbrokers than hired muscle, despite the black leathers. Zac was a good-looking black guy with a carefully-crafted goatee. Mike was clean-shaven and prematurely bald.
‘That’s the thing with this city,’ said Mike. Tom recognised him as the first man who’d spoken. ‘Never know when you’re going find trouble.’ He dangled an empty hypodermic between finger and thumb.
‘What exactly is it that you … enforce?’ Tom enquired.
‘We do what we have to,’ said Zac, his voice soft and clear, ‘to make sure no ’wolf in Chicago exceeds his kill quota.’
‘Kill quota?’ Tom echoed.
Chung nodded. ‘The Dark Chapter keeps tabs on every lupine in the city – and who they kill. We’ve got people watching all over Chicago.’
‘Doesn’t take us long to find out about the latest newbie in town,’ Fayn remarked. ‘You know how it is. ’Wolf can smell another ’wolf a mile away.’
‘But something doesn’t smell quite right about you,’ added Chung. ‘We needed to be sure.’
‘Hence the fun and games last night,’ Tom muttered.
‘So – you gone hunting since you got here?’ asked Mike. His voice was quiet but there was real menace there.
‘No,’ Tom said coldly.
Mike nodded. ‘We thought not.’ He clenched his fists. ‘Otherwise we’d be doing the talking with these.’
Tom looked doubtful. ‘I thought you tried to, last night.’
Chung crouched down in front of Tom, his almond eyes seeming to hold the amber light. ‘Like I said, we just want to talk – and you to listen. We’ll even overlook the trouble you’ve put us to in arranging this little get-together. It’s just logic,’ he said calmly. ‘We’re all ’wolves, right? We’ve all got to stay hidden. And if you want to live and hunt in Chicago …’
‘Five local humans each year,’ added Fayn. ‘That’s your kill quota.’
‘Exceed that,’ said Mike, ‘and we have to fillet you.’
Tom glared at Chung coldly. ‘Five human kills?’
He nodded. ‘We’ve calculated, any more than that, you risk exposing the ’wolf presence. We have an annual murder rate here of seven hundred. That can’t be allowed to spiral out of control.’
Tom shook his head in disbelief. ‘You’re talking about killing innocent people, not balancing books! What gives you the right to dish out life and death by numbers?’
‘My inheritance gives me the right!’ said Chung fiercely. ‘My pureblood ancestors
came to Chicago in 1875, with the first Chinese immigrants. They had nothing but dreams of a better life in the land of the free. They formed the Chapter to help make sure they got it.’
‘A better life for ’wolves in the land of the free takeout, you mean,’ Tom retorted bitterly.
‘The Chapter brought order,’ argued Fayn. ‘My family’s pureblood too, came across from Ireland in 1920—’
‘And why’d they come?’ Chung broke in. ‘Because they knew the Chapter was reining in those meat heads who figured they could just keep on killing and never get caught.’ He turned to Tom, seeming puzzled. ‘What gives with you, anyway? You sound like you’re down on the ’wolf – but we’ve seen you change.’
‘I’m a wereling,’ Tom admitted. From the sudden looks passed between Chung and his buddies, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
‘So … no wonder you don’t smell quite right.’ Chung’s thin lips twitched in a smile. ‘You’re that kid who’s been causing old pink-eyes so much trouble.’
‘I guess I am.’ Tom looked Chung in the eye. ‘Takapa’s evil. He tried to turn New York into a battleground. And whatever he’s up to here, you can bet it’s going to be big, and it’s going to be bad news – for ’wolves and humans alike.’
‘So that’s why you were spying on him, huh?’ Chung’s dark eyes held a trace of admiration. ‘We trailed you to his place … then we lost you for a while. What’d you find there? What’s he’s up to?’
‘I don’t know.’ Tom shook his head. ‘I got kind of distracted by the girl.’
Chung grinned as if in understanding. ‘Well, it doesn’t really matter anyhow; Takapa’s acting all cute and kiss-ass to us. Guess he reckons he can buy the support of a pureblood Chung that way.’
‘And a pureblood Fayn,’ added his deputy, almost petulantly.
Chung nodded. ‘In any case, so long as Takapa doesn’t cause trouble, we’ll leave him alone.’
‘But he’s invited a whole load of purebloods here,’ Tom argued. ‘What if they all fancy a little snack when they arrive, and go out on the hunt?’
