The Wereling 3: Resurrection

by Stephen Cole

  Chung shook his head. ‘The word’s been put out – no one shows until Christmas Eve, and catering’s being provided.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Tom muttered darkly.

  ‘Besides,’ said Fayn, ‘a lot of those pureblood families have their own Dark Chapters, in Philadelphia, Texas, Colorado …’

  ‘The guy’s a harmless crank, if you ask me,’ Mike put in.

  ‘You,’ Tom said, ‘have got a shock coming.’

  ‘And you,’ said Chung, straightening up, ‘have got five kills per calendar year, if you’re planning to stay in town. Visitors of under a month get just the one.’ He smiled coolly. ‘Don’t make out you’re so shocked, wereling. We saw you chasing out there …’ He jerked a thumb at the girl in the corner.

  In the next flash of sordid orange light Tom saw that the girl had opened her eyes. He stared at Chung, appalled. ‘What?’

  ‘You were chasing her. You wanted to make her your kill.’ Chung said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  Fayn smirked. ‘She’s not bad. Nice bit of flesh on her bones.’

  ‘She was about to be knifed!’ Tom snapped. ‘I was trying to save her, not eat her.’

  ‘You’re something else, man,’ said Zac. ‘What are you, vegetarian or something?’

  ‘Let her go,’ Tom said simply.

  ‘No,’ Fayn objected. ‘She knows all about us. She might talk to the cops, make trouble.’

  Chung shook his head. ‘We’ve got enough friends on the force. She wouldn’t get anywhere.’

  ‘I won’t talk,’ said the girl. She sat up, smoothing back her hair from her forehead. ‘Takapa is holding my father somewhere. He’d kill him if I talked to anyone, I know it.’

  Tom felt a tingle of realisation down his spine. ‘Wait a second … are you—?’

  ‘My name’s Sunday,’ said the girl. ‘Sunday Walker.’

  g

  As the heels tapped their way closer, Blood pulled Kate behind the screen that hid the grisly gallery exhibit from view.

  Now some heavier footsteps could also be heard.

  ‘Any sign of them?’ A woman’s voice close by, authoritative and clear.

  ‘Uh, not yet.’

  Kate recognised the security guard’s voice.

  ‘But they’ve gotta be around here somewhere, Miss Black.’

  ‘We can’t afford snoopers,’ said the woman. ‘Not when we’re so close …’

  ‘They can’t be snoopers,’ said the guard defensively. ‘The guy had a business card and everything. And they were English!’

  ‘Just find them!’ Miss Black snapped impatiently.

  Kate heard the guard hurry away.

  The door opened, and the heels tapped into the room. Kate held her breath, expecting them to make their way straight over to the screen. Then a cell phone trilled. For a terrible moment Kate thought it was Blood’s, but it was Miss Black’s.

  ‘Araminta Black,’ she answered crisply.

  Peeping around the screen, Kate saw a reed-thin woman, businesslike in a well-cut black suit and red shirt. The heels were Manolo Blahniks. Her straight dark hair was cut into a severe jaw-skimming bob. She was maybe Blood’s age, and her features were sharp and angular, save for her round, rather prominent brown eyes.

  There was a light pause. ‘Takapa? It’s … it’s good to hear from you. Is everything all right?’

  Kate’s heart thudded as she heard Takapa’s name. And from the look on Araminta Black’s face, everything clearly wasn’t all right.

  ‘An intruder? Was he apprehended?’

  Kate looked at Blood. Were they talking about Tom?

  ‘Well, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,’ said Miss Black.

  Blood gave Kate a reassuring wink.

  ‘No, everything’s well in hand over here.’ Miss Black’s brown eyes glanced shiftily about, and Kate shrank back behind the screen. ‘Are your white wolves all set to leave the zoo tonight?’ the woman asked. Then she gave a forced, tinkling laugh, like someone pouring beads into a glass. ‘Very well. Goodbye.’

  Heels tapped closer and closer to the screen. They’d be discovered any moment.

  Suddenly Blood nudged Kate, pointing to a stack of chairs to the side of the screen. Kate nodded.

  She reached over and shoved the pile with all her strength. It toppled towards Araminta Black, who gave an almighty shriek and threw herself clear. The chairs crashed against the wooden floor with the noise of a small bomb blast.

  Blood charged over to the door and flung it open. ‘Come on, Trolly!’ he yelled.

  Kate was beside him in a flash. He led the way through the next gallery and back to the stairs – then skidded to a halt as he found the corpulent frame of the guard blocking their way. He was holding a policeman’s baton like a club in both sweaty hands.

  ‘Thank God you’re here,’ gasped Blood. ‘There’s been a terrible accident!’

  The guard frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘You just fell over,’ said Blood, shoulder-charging the man aside.

  They didn’t wait to see him crash to the floor, but the echoes of the impact were still resounding as they cleared the bottom of the stairs, slammed open the doors and fled back outside.

  g

  ‘You’re Sunday …’ Tom stared at the girl in the slow orange strobe of the flashing emergency lantern. ‘When you kept standing us up, we thought you were just some hoaxer, who—’

  Chung placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Look, wereling, you know the score now. Get out of here and take your pet girl with you. If she makes trouble for us – you’re dead. We’ll see to that.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re very efficient,’ Tom replied coldly.

  ‘Got to be,’ said Chung.

  Zac threw a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt at Tom’s feet. Tom hastily turned his back to Sunday and pulled them on, then draped the blanket around his shoulders.

  When he turned, Chung pressed a five-dollar bill into his hand. ‘Nearest El stop’s three blocks west,’ he said. ‘Racine. Catch you later – if we have to.’ Then he opened the back doors of the van.

  Tom’s eyes were stung by the cold blue daylight waiting outside to surprise him as he stared out on to a deserted, snowy street.

  Once he and Sunday were out of the van, the doors slammed closed. The vehicle started up and pulled smoothly away, leaving them shivering in the street, barefoot.

  ‘Great,’ Tom muttered. ‘Our feet will have frozen off by the time we’ve found our way back.’

  ‘Back where?’ Sunday said bitterly. ‘I’ve got nowhere to go. If I go back home, Takapa’s ’wolves will be waiting for me.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ Tom told her. ‘Me and Kate – Troll Lover to you – are staying with a friend at the Drake Hotel. Come back with us.’

  Sunday looked away and began to arrange her crimson blanket into a kind of toga.

  Tom couldn’t help but stare at the collection of fine brown freckles littering the white skin of her arms. She still shivered so he passed her his blanket.

  She took it gratefully and draped it around her shoulders. When she’d finished arranging her makeshift outfit, she looked at him in silence, clearly deliberating. ‘Can I trust you?’ she asked finally. ‘Even though you’re … you know …’

  ‘I hope so,’ he told her honestly.

  Her face was grave. ‘And … and can you help me get my father back?’

  ‘Why don’t we talk about it on the El?’ Tom suggested. ‘If we freeze to death we’ll be no good to anyone.’

  Together, looking around nervously for any sign they were being followed, they began to walk quickly through the freezing slush.

  g

  g

  CHAPTER SIX

  It turned out people were so caught up in their panic of last-minute Christmas shopping that, beyond a few odd glances at two crazy kids going barefoot in this weather, no one paid Tom and Sunday much attention.

  Amid the bustle, bags and chatter on
the train, Tom quietly told Sunday a little of his and Kate’s experiences, then listened carefully as she told her story.

  ‘My dad’s a geneticist,’ she explained. ‘You know the deal. Punching out defective genes in embryos, gene therapies …’

  Tom whistled. ‘Clever stuff … but kind of scary.’

  ‘Not if you know what you’re doing,’ countered Sunday. ‘And Dad does. Anyway, a year ago he started work at this new set-up – United Laboratories.’

  Tom nodded grimly. ‘Nice place. Shame about the owners.’

  ‘He loved the work – loved the funding even more. Loads of theoretical stuff, a lot of it really wild …’ Anticipating Tom’s next question, Sunday held up her hand. ‘I don’t know the details, but it floated Dad’s boat,’ she said. ‘Then a few months ago, things began to change. He started looking tired. Getting jumpy. Bawling me out for nothing … I snooped in his diary and found mentions of something called “Project Resurrection”. Anyway, his moods got worse and worse. Then, one night – December 2nd – he never came home …’

  Tom saw tears well up in her wide eyes. ‘And you haven’t heard from him since?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Nothing,’ Sunday said hoarsely. ‘I went to United Laboratories – but I didn’t get past the security guard. He said he’d never heard of a Dr John Walker, and wouldn’t let me in. So I went to the police and reported Dad as missing, but no one seemed too worried. A grown man, a doctor, not been seen for a few days? Probably just gone out of town with his colleagues for a conference or something, and forgotten to tell his daughter. I guess Dad’s no kind of priority when there are young kids missing, out there all alone.’

  ‘What about your mom?’ Tom asked.

  ‘There’s just me and Dad,’ said Sunday quietly. ‘Was just me and Dad. Anyway, since the cops wouldn’t investigate, I thought I’d play detective myself. I checked through Dad’s Internet history, called up all the web pages he’d viewed, to see if I could find some clue. And that’s how I found out he’d done all this research into werewolves ...’

  ‘Guess that was kind of a shock, huh?’ Tom murmured.

  ‘Oh, it gets better,’ Sunday assured him. ‘The next day I got an anonymous note. It warned that if I made trouble trying to find my dad they’d find me, kill my dad in front of me and then tear me apart.’ She paused, eyes glistening, too choked to continue for a while. ‘I kind of figured they meant it. I couldn’t be home alone so I stayed with friends … and started posting to that newsgroup for any info. I mean, what do I know about werewolves … in the 21st century!’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it either at first,’ Tom said. ‘Now I don’t have much choice.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you like we planned online,’ said Sunday. ‘Each time I went out it felt like someone was watching me. I got scared, backed out, didn’t know who I could trust … Then one day, I guess I flipped. I was so sick of doing nothing … I tried breaking into United Laboratories to see if I could find out anything. I was caught, in like ten seconds – and that was that. I was so stupid …’

  ‘Just what the hell were they doing to you in that room?’ Tom asked quietly.

  ‘From what I could gather, it was some kind of experiment – using a whole load of weird voodoo magic crap,’ Sunday replied. ‘I’d been there for four days. At least, I think that’s how long. That guy … the creepy old blind guy … he kept coming to see me. Spoke stuff to me, weird words. Like a spell or something. They held me frozen, I couldn’t move. He would bring in others, explain to them what he was doing like they were students, tell them how the words could control my body.’

  ‘Words? You’re sure they didn’t give you drugs or something?’

  ‘I swear. He paralysed different parts of me; stopped me speaking, stopped me swallowing – even slowed down my heart … like hypnosis or something.’ She plucked distractedly at her crimson blanket. ‘And then, when he and the others put on their creepy robes and all started chanting together, I’m telling you, Tom, it was like I was coming apart. Like the whole of me was … unravelling.’

  Tom shivered, remembering now how he’d felt as he’d observed the ritual through the skylight. ‘How could anyone have that sort of control over someone just by speaking?’ he asked.

  Sunday shook her head. ‘I didn’t recognise the words. They were in some strange language,’ she said quietly. ‘But he told his students what some of them stood for. Chemical bases – thymine, guanine, cytosine and adenine.’

  ‘And an order of fries to go,’ Tom quipped, baffled.

  Sunday glared at him. ‘I know what those chemical bases are. Dad’s worked with them throughout his career. They’re the building blocks of DNA – and that old blind guy can build ’em up and knock ’em down just by opening his mouth.’

  g

  Kate got quite a shock when Tom let himself into Blood’s suite at the Drake, a little before two p.m. Dressed in someone else’s jeans and top, he was shivering with cold, and his feet had gone an awful blotchy blue colour. The curvy girl he’d brought back with him wasn’t wearing a whole lot more …

  ‘What the hell happened to you, Tom?’ Kate asked. She flashed a tight smile at the girl. ‘And who is this?’

  Tom waved his arms like a stage magician presenting his glamorous assistant to the audience. ‘This … is Sunday.’

  Kate stared in amazement.

  ‘Damn,’ said Blood. ‘I was hoping she was a perk that came with the room.’ He winked at Sunday and strode off to the bathroom. ‘I’ll fill the tub. A couple of hot baths are in order. Time for explanations later.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Sunday gratefully. She looked at Kate. ‘So you’re Troll Lover?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Kate shook the girl’s icy hand. ‘And Sunday’s your real name?’

  Sunday forced a smile. ‘My parents thought it was cute to name me after my birthday. But hey, I’m lucky. I could’ve been called Twelfth or March, right?’

  Tom insisted Sunday jump in the bath first, and he settled for diving into his bed and burying himself under thick blankets. Then he filled in Kate and Blood on what had happened and all he’d learned.

  Once Kate had heard what Sunday had been through, she decided to keep any future jealous twinges to herself. In turn, she and Blood told Tom about their findings at the Bane Gallery. ‘Oh, and hey, guess what,’ Kate added, ‘I had an email from Stacy.’

  Tom smiled. ‘Yeah?’ He and Kate had gotten to know Dr Stacy Stein while fighting the ’wolves in New York. She was a virologist in a Harlem hospital who’d developed what she’d thought was a serum to calm the bloodlust in lupines. But she hadn’t banked on Takapa’s agents perverting the formula so that the serum had stoked lupine aggression instead of soothing it. And the stuff had been made chronically addictive. Takapa had intended to use it to gain control over his lupine army. Luckily Jicaque, the old medicine man, was able to use his ancient wisdoms and powerful herbal techniques to swiftly break the addiction for most of the junkies, and then cure them of their lupine tendencies for good.

  ‘I checked my email on Blood’s laptop while I was waiting for you,’ Kate explained.

  ‘And on Blood’s bloody bill,’ added Blood pointedly.

  Kate ignored him. ‘Stacy’s email said she’s been keeping in touch with Jicaque, offering hospital beds for the homeless ones, helping them get into work programs, that kind of thing. And she said that Jicaque has learned something about what’s going on here in Chicago. She wouldn’t put it down in writing, but I’ve sent her Blood’s cellphone number and told her to call.’

  ‘Another sodding liberty,’ sighed Blood with mock annoyance. ‘There are some women who would kill for my private number, and you go handing it out to just anyone.’

  ‘Marcie Folan would kill for it, I’m sure,’ Tom said darkly.

  Blood mused thoughtfully. ‘Odd about her, isn’t it? Since the two of you started running she’s been proactive, to say the least, in hunting you down – or getting othe
rs to do so. And yet you’ve been in Chicago all this time and she hasn’t bothered you once.’

  Kate considered. ‘I guess she doesn’t know we’re here.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Blood concurred. ‘Or perhaps something else has been keeping her and her psychotic friends busy. Something important.’

  Tom looked uneasy. ‘The upcoming show-and-tell for the purebloods?’

  Blood nodded. ‘And it’s perfectly possible that it involves Sunday’s missing father.’

  ‘Do you think Sunday’s dad is being held at Takapa’s place?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Tom agreed.

  ‘Unless the ’wolves have killed him already, of course,’ said Blood quietly.

  The bathroom door opened and Sunday padded out wearing one of the hotel’s white towelling bathrobes. Kate found some clothes to lend to her while Tom took his turn to clean up.

  Sunday’s figure was fuller than Kate’s. When Kate’s spare pair of jeans wouldn’t pull over her hips, she just grinned and declared that a pair of track pants she’d spotted might suit her better. ‘So, you’re staying with two cute guys at the Drake, huh?’ she said lightly, brushing her hair in front of the mirror. ‘Lucky you.’

  Kate smiled. ‘It’s Adam Blood’s room, really. Tom and I are his guests.’

  ‘Are you two together?’ asked Sunday as she rose from the mirror.

  ‘We’re just friends,’ Kate replied, noting enviously the way her green sweater clung to Sunday’s curves. ‘That’s all we can be.’

  ‘Because he’s, like, a werewolf?’ asked Sunday. ‘Or because—’

  ‘Ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ Kate interrupted sharply.

  ‘Sorry.’ Sunday shrugged. ‘I guess I do. Dad always told me that asking questions was the only way to learn.’ She trailed off, looking down at her feet.

  Kate sighed. ‘Hey, I’m the one who’s sorry.’ She slipped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just kind of tense. Had a weird experience this morning.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Sunday with a shudder. ‘What was yours?’

  Kate found herself telling her tale for a second time. She was trying to overshadow the unsettling memories of the corpse in the case by giving a particularly vivid description of the guard’s fall on the polished parquet, when a shrill cellphone ring started tooting God Save the Queen in the next room.