by Stephen Cole
‘My friends,’ Takapa implored his audience from the stage, ‘soon you shall witness the Great Wolf’s inauguration as our one true leader.’ He raised his voice. ‘Who in this room will not swear loyalty to him?’
More mutters of concern. It didn’t take a genius to figure that by doing so, the purebloods would be committing themselves to Takapa’s vision as well. He’d given them the sales pitch, and the biggest publicity stunt imaginable. Would they go along with him now?
Araminta tilted Kate’s chair back on two legs and heaved her away, out of Stubbe’s sight. He was still staring after her. His pained expression stayed with Kate as she was dragged backstage behind the screens.
Then Araminta looked down, and saw the frayed ropes, and the dagger in Kate’s raw and bleeding hands. ‘You little bitch,’ she breathed. ‘Thought you could escape, did you?’ She snatched the slippery knife away and held it to Kate’s throat. ‘You need to learn some respect.’
Kate closed her eyes. There was a dull thud and a short gasp of pain.
‘And you need to learn to lock your stage door,’ said Chung, lowering his fist.
Kate stared first at Araminta’s crumpled body, then up at her rescuer. He looked pale and tired through the bruising on his face, but he still made a pretty fine white knight. He yanked the gag down over her chin and she gulped down air. ‘Thank God you found me,’ she gasped.
‘Never mind that,’ he said, taking the fallen dagger and cutting roughly through her ropes. ‘Is Stubbe out there?’
She shuddered, nodded her head.
Chung studied the small dagger. ‘I could use this on him … but the codechanters would heal him in a moment.’
‘And you’d be dead just as fast,’ Kate pointed out.
He handed her back the dagger. ‘So I guess I’m sticking to Plan A.’
‘You’re seriously going out there?’
Chung’s answer was to march out of the wings and on to the stage. Gingerly rubbing some feeling into her bloody wrists, Kate crept forwards to see.
‘Great Wolf!’ Chung cried, pressing a chaste kiss against the startled man’s hand before sinking to his knees. ‘My master, my saviour!’
From her vantage point, peering around from behind one of the screens, Kate could see the audience now. They were a mixed crowd, all adults and dressed smartly like they’d come out to the theatre. And they were sure being treated to a show.
But Kate’s eyes were on her mother in the front row, on the way her gaunt face was streaked with tears. For a second Kate wished she could reach out to her, share the pain she felt at Hal’s passing. But Marcie’s face was already twisting with rage. She was looking at Takapa expectantly, but he shook his head a fraction. Kate guessed he didn’t want things to get messy at this crucial point.
‘Perhaps some of you know me,’ Chung yelled on his knees, his voice hoarse. ‘I am Ryan Chung, a pureblood as you are. I recognise the Great Wolf as my absolute master.’
The audience were nodding and whispering, clearly impressed. Stubbe just stared at his worshipper, bewildered, but Kate saw something small in Chung’s hand catch the light.
‘You see,’ Takapa shouted. ‘The worthy Ryan Chung, proud torch-bearer for the ’wolves of this city, is here to pay homage.’
Chung smiled. ‘And I trust every pureblood here will follow my example.’
Stubbe gave a sudden bark of pain and surprise. Chung moved his hand away from his master’s ankle, and Kate saw he’d stuck the fastening pin of his silver wolf’s head brooch into the soft pink skin.
Takapa lashed out with his foot, kicked Chung under the chin and sent him sprawling off the stage. Many in the audience cried out or jumped up in shock. As Chung fell heavily to the floor, Marcie pounced on him.
‘Nein,’ thundered Stubbe.
The room fell silent.
Marcie scuttled meekly back to her seat.
Takapa stood staring down at Chung’s unconscious body, seething with rage but suddenly impotent.
Kate, too, could only watch helplessly. She was free now, but just as powerless. Her mind raced; there had to be something she could do …
Stubbe stooped to pluck the brooch from his ankle, pressed his finger to the bead of blood that had welled there. Slowly he rose and smeared the blood over his tongue. ‘Blut …’ He shuddered, his dark eyes wide and gleaming as he seemed to take in his surroundings properly for the first time.
When he spoke again it was in halting, heavily accented English. ‘This is … a place of devilment. There is light … without fire. Your garments … are alien to me. A stink, unnatural … is on the air.’
Kate shivered. Was English something else the codechanters had passed on to Stubbe? Or had the understanding been taken from her father?
Now Stubbe looked at Takapa. His grasp of the language seemed to be improving. ‘You … brought me here?’
‘You owe your rebirth to me,’ proclaimed Takapa vaingloriously. ‘Hundreds of years have passed since you were taken from us. Now your presence is restored, our plans can—’
‘Your plans?’ Stubbe snorted scornfully. The grief Kate had seen in his face had hardened, and he stood imperial, regal. She knew without a doubt that the true Stubbe was now before them, the indomitable Great Wolf of legend. ‘Your plans smell as bad as the air, little man,’ he went on. ‘Just as there is no meat on your bones, there is no bite in your prophecy.’
Takapa gave a little strangled gasp as excited whispers and mutterings again rose from the audience. He glared at Liebermann. ‘I am confident that when I have made clear to you my ambition—’
‘I care more for the boy’s ire and action than for your words, whey-face.’ Stubbe licked his finger again and smiled down at Chung’s unmoving body. ‘You fawn like a child and show me only smiles. The boy has shown me … even here in your bad-tasting world … that blood is still blood.’
‘Yes!’ Takapa seized on the phrase, turned and addressed the audience once more. ‘You have all heard the Great Wolf speak. Blood is still blood, and we shall make oaths in it. We shall proceed as planned with the crowning ceremony.’
‘Wait!’ Someone else had entered the gallery. The deep, commanding voice echoed through the room. Even Stubbe looked perturbed.
Takapa’s face had turned close to the colour of his eyes at this latest disruption to his plans. ‘Jicaque?’ he hissed in disbelief.
‘Oh, sweet Jesus,’ Kate breathed.
Then she felt a hand come down hard on her shoulder.
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Tom stood just outside the main gallery, pressed up against the wall out of sight, cursing that he hadn’t gotten here just a few moments earlier. Jicaque had gone inside, alone – and now Tom didn’t have the first idea of what he could do.
‘Yes, my name is Jicaque,’ he heard the old Native American announce, to fresh hubbub from the pureblood mob. ‘Some of you may know my name, and that I am descended from the Shipapi – the people who long ago sought to destroy the man who stands before you now.’
Tom closed his eyes. Nice going, Jicaque. Gatecrash someone else’s party, then switch off the music and turn all the lights on. How to make yourself real popular.
He crouched down and peered around the side of the door – then swallowed hard as he saw the place was packed with people who would gladly kill him the moment he stepped inside.
There had to be fifty people seated or standing in the gallery, their attention divided between Jicaque – a scruffy, diminutive figure in the middle of the gangway – and some dark-haired guy in a black gown. It could only be Stubbe. Chung’s body lay spread-eagled on the floor, but at this distance, Tom couldn’t tell if he was dead or just sleeping. The codechanters and Takapa stood watching intently from the stage. Marcie stood before the stage, angling for a better view.
Tom saw Takapa gesture to two heavy-set men in the front row and heard him hiss, ‘Seize the old fool. Get him out of here.’
‘No!’ boomed Stubbe. He held up a hand to Tak
apa, clearly warning him to stay out of this fight. ‘I shall hear his words.’
‘You are a man out of time, Stubbe,’ pronounced Jicaque. ‘I come here now to finish the Shipapi’s task.’
‘You pit your strength against mine, old man?’ Stubbe smiled, showing a set of crooked teeth.
‘Next to you, I am a stripling in the full flush of youth,’ countered Jicaque.
‘I remember … when they came for me,’ said Stubbe, walking to the edge of the stage. ‘Yes … I was tortured … my legs and arms beaten till they broke, as they sought to cripple the ’wolf inside me. I saw … your face … watching on.’
‘You saw the face of my ancestor,’ said Jicaque gravely. ‘It was his mistake not to extinguish your evil will for ever.’
‘Evil?’ Stubbe shook his head. ‘Noble. The heritage of man is false and flat. The bloodline of the ’wolf is vibrant and strong.’
‘As it shall be again,’ added Takapa.
Jicaque ignored him and turned on Stubbe. ‘Was it noble to feast on children in their beds? To hunt and kill many under each full moon, or else to bite any drunk or harlot passing and so spread your curse?’ He shook his head. ‘You were never satisfied with the balance of man and wolf. Like this one’ – he pointed accusingly at Takapa – ‘you wished the lupine to usurp man.’
With sudden, surprising agility, Stubbe jumped down from the stage into the gangway. ‘And … should I not wish such a thing?’
There were a few ugly murmurs of support from the purebloods.
‘It seems we have some entertainment. Watch, my friends,’ said Takapa quickly, as if hoping to somehow convince his audience that he was still holding sway. ‘I trust you will find amusement in what follows.’
Tom bunched his fists, knew he had to help Jicaque. But how? Jicaque had turned his back on Stubbe now; he was facing the exit, facing Tom. But the old man’s eyes were closed, even while those of his enemies were fixed on him all around, willing his destruction.
Then Tom saw Jicaque’s lips were moving. He was mumbling something under his breath – a spell, a good luck charm?
It had better work fast, he thought.
‘Hear me!’ boomed Stubbe, glancing back at the codechanters on stage. He licked his lips, slowly and lasciviously. ‘My old appetite is keen. I shall taste meat in this bedevilled world – sate my hunger with the blood and flesh of this man. As his ancestor watched me die … so all of you here shall witness me slay him in turn.’ He glared around warningly at his audience. ‘Let neither tooth nor claw, nor modern magics distract me from my kill.’
Tom watched in horror as Stubbe’s form began to buckle and fold. The air was filled with a sudden reek of decay, and a great, dreadful hush fell upon all those present as his soft pink limbs twisted and tightened. Stubbe’s robes tore open along the razor-sharp length of his spine. White, lustrous fur quickly covered his body. Tom remembered the white wolves, magnificent creatures mauled to give this monster life. This Great Wolf was huge, by far the largest lupine he’d ever seen.
‘Magnificent!’ cried Marcie, sounding deeply moved. ‘Yes, the Great Wolf must sate his appetite – and have his revenge!’
Jicaque still had his eyes closed, like a child who thinks if he can’t see the monster in the dark, the monster can’t see him. But this monster was coming to eat him. Tom could only watch helplessly as the great ’wolf drew closer and closer, with black saucer-eyes and jaws like a ’gator’s. After laying dormant for almost four hundred years, Peter Stubbe was again showing the world his true, hideous form.
‘Now, how did that story about David and Goliath go?’ Tom muttered shakily.
He dug his nails hard into his palms. Bit down on his lip and scissored his teeth through the soft skin. Felt the delicious iron tang of hot blood in his mouth. Shut his eyes tight, willed his already racing heart to beat faster, faster … to beat so loud it would wake the ’wolf beneath his skin.
Bringing on the change for what he sensed would be the last time.
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CHAPTER TWENTY
Kate spun around and raised her fists, ready to strike out at her assailant.
But it was Blood. She struck him anyway, but lightly on the chest before giving him a brief hug. ‘Like I wasn’t frightened enough.’
‘Sorry if I seemed heavy-handed,’ said Blood, worriedly pulling her away from her hiding place and further back stage. ‘I tripped over Araminta.’ He indicated the skinny woman, still unconscious on the floor. ‘Your work?’
She shook her head. ‘It was Chung. Then he stabbed Stubbe’s foot with his brooch and got kicked off the stage.’
‘Strain must’ve got too much for him,’ Blood reflected. ‘Still, one bad guy mildly injured, only about sixty to polish off, right?’
‘I think we’re about to lose one of the good guys,’ Kate hissed. ‘Jicaque’s out there, taking on Stubbe. Where’s Tom?’
‘He went on ahead. I wound up being weighed down with Walker. He’s raving like a madman, but he did tell me about this back way on to the stage.’
‘Chung managed to find his way back here all by himself,’ Kate muttered. ‘I only wish Tom had. Where’s Walker now?’
‘I clonked him on the head. I’m getting quite good at it.’ Kate gave him an accusing look and he shrugged. ‘He was a liability. At least he’s safely out of it.’
They heard a sudden, chilling roar from the gallery.
‘Good gods, I wish we were,’ muttered Blood. ‘Sounds like the mother of all ’wolves.’
‘Or the father,’ Kate realised. ‘It’s Stubbe. Jicaque won’t stand a chance …’ She looked at Blood. ‘Do you have a match?’
‘This is no time for a last cigarette,’ he chided, producing a matchbook.
‘We need a distraction, a smokescreen,’ Kate said, ignoring his puzzled look. ‘And there’s no smoke without fire.’
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As Tom bounded into the gallery, the sound of Stubbe’s terrifying roar rang in his ears. He crouched protectively in front of Jicaque, bared his teeth and roared defiance at the Great Wolf that towered over him.
Stubbe stared down curiously, saliva dripping from his jaws.
Tom dimly heard Marcie scream that the intruder should be stopped and killed, and a confused outbreak of babbling voices close by. But through it all his sensitive ears focused on Jicaque’s incantation, a rhythmic, soothing muttering in some strange language. Though Tom didn’t understand the story those words described, he knew it needed to have an ending. He would gain Jicaque time the only way he knew how.
With a bellowing roar he leaped for the tree-trunk thickness of Stubbe’s throat.
*
Backstage, Kate and Blood had set light to the crimson throw that had covered Stubbe’s casket, and were frantically fanning the flames. Oily smoke was rising up from it, drifting over the screens towards the high ceiling. The flames were licking against the chair she’d been strapped to.
‘We need more stuff to burn,’ Kate realised.
Blood pulled off Araminta’s jacket. ‘If this catches we’ll chuck the rest of her on,’ he whispered.
Kate wasn’t entirely convinced he was joking. ‘That cleaning cupboard I was locked up in – might be something flammable in there. Come on, quick.’
But as they shot out through the emergency exit and turned into the corridor, they ran into two people coming the other way.
‘Stacy! Sunday!’ Kate gasped.
There was a brief frenzy of hugs.
‘Jesus,’ said Blood, ‘can any old Tom, Dick or Harriet wander in here?’
Stacy tugged at her V-neck top suggestively. ‘Come on – two drunken party girls out late on Christmas Eve, looking for someone to kiss under the mistletoe? Those stinky guards never stood a chance.’
Sunday nodded enthusiastically. ‘Closed their eyes for a kiss, got a chloroformed pad over their noses.’
Blood looked at Stacy approvingly. ‘You’ve been busy.’
&
nbsp; ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Stacy. ‘Did Chung get in here OK? He ran off ahead of us …’
Kate nodded, jerked a thumb back at the fire door. ‘He got in through there and went stage diving.’
‘Did he prick Stubbe with the pin?’ asked Stacy eagerly.
Kate frowned. ‘How did you know?’
Sunday looked at Stacy. ‘Fingers crossed then.’
‘It has to work,’ muttered Stacy.
Kate looked questioningly at Stacy, but decided against asking more. ‘Stubbe’s turned ’wolf,’ she said.
Stacy beamed. ‘But that’s great news!’
Kate stared at her. ‘Not when Jicaque’s out there facing up to him!’
Sunday looked over Kate’s shoulder at where smoke was seeping out from under the door. ‘Uh, is something on fire in there?’
‘We’re looking for something to keep it stoked,’ said Blood.
Kate nodded. ‘We need anything flammable, guys. You try this way, we’ll go down here.’
Another mighty roar sounded from the gallery. Then a quieter, yet somehow angrier one rose in response.
‘Shit,’ Kate breathed. ‘That’s Tom. He’s in there too.’
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Tom twisted clear as one of the Great Wolf’s heavy paws rushed down to crush his ribs, smashing instead into a row of seats and sending purebloods screaming and tumbling. He struggled up. This was the third time he’d attacked Stubbe, only to be swatted away like an insect. His body was battered and bruised, and blood was spilling from claw marks in his back, but he couldn’t give up.
He had to keep Stubbe away from Jicaque.
The old man still just stood there, hunched up and defenceless as he chanted on. But the purebloods’ hungry stares were falling on his frail body, and Tom sensed that many of them were ready to change – the excitement, the ferocity of the struggle before them … Stubbe might’ve wanted to keep this fight for himself, but now blood had been spilled, how could a crowd like this help themselves?
Suddenly he caught Marcie’s cold funereal scent. From the corner of his eye he saw her creeping towards him, a green-gold gleam spiralling through her narrowed eyes as she readied herself to will on her lupine form.
