The Wereling 3: Resurrection

by Stephen Cole

  But then a surge of panic seemed to go through the crowd around him. The codechanters were speaking, all three as one, Liebermann leading them in a booming, guttural concerto.

  Stubbe took full advantage of the distraction, lunging for Tom’s throat, jaws wide and gaping. Tom barely dodged in time, colliding with a couple who fell stiffly like mannequins. Like they were unable to move. He glanced around, and saw that every pureblood in the place seemed rooted to the spot.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he heard Marcie shout, frozen in her crouching position. ‘You old fools, release us!’

  ‘The Great Wolf hunts!’ shouted Liebermann, briefly breaking from the chant. ‘And he commanded that no one intrude. So be still, Folan!’

  Tom skittered back towards the stage, barking and growling at Stubbe, trying to lead him away from Jicaque. He knocked against Marcie, who bellowed with impotent anger as she toppled forwards on her face. Then the shout died away, and with it the anguished screams of everyone else in the room. Tom supposed that the sound of fifty people screaming for help would hurt the codechanters’ ears. Better to silence them right away with a few chanted words.

  ‘Release the purebloods, Liebermann!’ stormed Takapa. ‘They are our allies.’

  ‘And the Great Wolf is our Master,’ said Liebermann reverently. ‘You heard the orders he gave.’

  ‘I command here!’ shouted Takapa desperately. ‘I brought Stubbe back from the dead!’

  ‘No.’ Liebermann shook his head and smiled. ‘We did.’

  Then Tom heard Liebermann lead his brothers in the chant of the code once more.

  ‘Let me go!’ screamed Takapa. ‘Release me at once! I reclaimed you from the wilderness. I—’

  His voice choked off. Tom spun around to find Takapa, too, was powerless and frozen as stiff as a statue. Tom leaped up on to the stage in front of him.

  Stubbe bellowed, reared up and swiped at Tom with his deadly claws.

  Mustering all his strength, Tom leaped clear at the last moment. He heard Takapa shriek.

  Then the shriek stopped. There was a thud as something heavy hit the stage and rolled off and on to the floor.

  Tom turned. Stubbe’s claws were bright with blood.

  Takapa’s pink eyes stared out from his severed head, fixed on Tom in hatred.

  Before Tom could even react, Stubbe was charging for him again, filling his ears with a deafening roar. The purebloods looked on helplessly in panicked silence.

  Tom skittered aside, dodged nimbly past the Great Wolf. But he was tiring. His body ached and throbbed. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer. The acrid smell of smoke caught in his nostrils. There was no time to work out where it was coming from. Stubbe was coming for him again.

  And then he saw Kate and Blood running out from the wings and on to the blood-soaked stage.

  g

  The fire was taking too long to get going, even with the extra rags they’d taken from the cleaner’s closet. It wasn’t about to distract anyone, and Tom was in trouble. So Kate and Blood had come running out here to try Plan B; or as Blood put it, Plan God-knows-what-that-might-B.

  But they both skidded to a halt in shock at the sight of the giant, misshapen ’wolf tearing through the silent gallery.

  ‘It’s Godzilla’s hairy cousin,’ said Blood faintly.

  Through the smoke, Kate took in the horror of the scene in snatches. She saw Tom, his dark skin lacerated and bloody, darting away from the monster like a frightened cub, but hemmed in by the crowds cringing in silent horror. She saw Takapa’s headless body standing to attention, his smart suit soaked in blood; Jicaque, seemingly heedless of the carnage around him; her mother, paralysed on the floor, lips unmoving but eyes wide and frightened …

  Kate tore her eyes away, turned to Blood. ‘Tom’s trying to buy Jicaque time, but with all the people in here, he’s got no room to manoeuvre!’

  ‘Ach, the tiresome Folan girl again.’ Liebermann came shuffling out of the smoke, leering at her. ‘I think now we must stop you for good.’

  ‘Hear, hear to that,’ said Anton, stifling a cough.

  ‘Uh-uh.’ Blood kicked Liebermann in the crotch and shoved him back into Anton, who toppled and fell. ‘I think you’ve hurt the people I care about quite enough already.’

  ‘He’s stronger than he looks!’ Kate shouted. ‘Watch out!’

  Even as she spoke, Liebermann lashed out with his fist with the same frightening force that had crushed Mike’s throat. But Blood dived aside – just as Friedrich shuffled forward to come to the aid of his master.

  Liebermann’s fist was flying too fast to stop. The blow pulverised his acolyte’s chin, sent Friedrich flying back into one of the screens at the rear of the stage.

  Slowly it toppled over backwards and crashed into the fire Kate and Blood had started. And Friedrich’s limp body, swamped by his dark robes, slid into the flames.

  ‘No!’ shouted Liebermann. He lunged towards the fire but Kate kicked his feet out from under him and he fell.

  Anton, flat on his back on the stage, started to chant at her, the same harsh sounds and syllables he’d used in the penthouse earlier that day. But as the smoke grew thicker, he choked on the words, couldn’t get them out, couldn’t seem to draw breath.

  Liebermann was coughing too, trying to scrabble back up and reach his friend on the fire.

  Kate knelt down on the small of his back to stop him from rising. ‘Help me, Blood!’ she shouted, her eyes starting to stream.

  He knelt on one of Liebermann’s arms and held down the other with both hands.

  ‘Release me!’ Liebermann rasped. ‘I must see to Friedrich!’

  ‘As soon as you release the people in this room,’ Kate hissed in his ear. She coughed painfully, held the dagger to his throat. ‘And don’t even think about turning ’wolf. I’ll slit your throat before you’ve sprouted your first hair.’

  Liebermann nodded. He started to shout out the sinister words between hacking coughs, the strangulated sounds ringing out through the smoky room. He looked to Anton as if hoping for help; but Anton now seemed just a tubby old man, flat on his back and struggling feebly for breath.

  Gradually, like marionettes twitching on unseen strings, the purebloods in the audience came back to life at the sound of the code. They stared around, bewildered and frightened, their movements slow and awkward as feeling returned.

  Liebermann’s booming voice dried as the smoke got thicker. But he’d done enough.

  ‘Get out of here!’ Kate yelled at the purebloods. ‘Go on, now, while you’ve got the chance!’

  They didn’t need much encouragement from her. The ones least affected were already making for the doors. Kate took the knife away from Liebermann’s neck and immediately he slithered across the stage to reach Friedrich. But the old acolyte’s brittle body was now consumed in the flames.

  Liebermann reached in, determined to haul him out. ‘I do not feel the flames,’ he boasted, gripping hold of Friedrich’s burning body. ‘I can block pain. I can—’

  But he stopped his bragging as the sleeves of his fine old robes quickly caught fire. He tried to beat out the flames, but stumbled and fell on to Friedrich’s blazing corpse. Liebermann screamed as the flames spread to consume him too. Anton did not react. His chest had stopped moving, his eyes were closed.

  Kate tore her eyes away from the horrific scene and looked back at Blood. ‘At least Tom’s got room to move now.’

  ‘Too late,’ said Blood.

  g

  Tom had backed into a corner and now he was trapped there. Stubbe was bearing down on him with one massive, bloodied paw raised, ready to strike.

  Tom stared up, exhausted but defiant as the Great Wolf towered over him. He had done all he could. But now it was finally over.

  Then, as Stubbe’s scarlet paw swung down to smear Tom over the floor, a dreadful clanging alarm rang out. Stubbe roared in anger, staring around wildly, fear in his huge dark eyes.

  With a thrill o
f hope, Tom realised Stubbe would never have heard a fire alarm before.

  He saw Stacy and Sunday standing by the alarm button the other side of the smoky hall, gesturing frantically that he should get out of there while he had the chance. He took that chance, and bolted past his bewildered foe.

  As he did so, he took in the crowds of purebloods making sluggishly for the exit, some on foot, some stumbling on all fours, in sleek lupine form. Marcie’s face was screwed up in concentration as she walked. Suddenly Tom saw her eyes glow green-gold, her features warp and shift. She bared her teeth as she freed the ’wolf inside her.

  She was making straight for Jicaque.

  g

  Kate grabbed hold of Blood’s arm in excitement as the fire alarm clanged on. ‘Look!’ she yelled in his ear. ‘Stacy and Sunday must’ve doubled back around and set it off. Tom got away in the distraction. Way to go, girls!’

  But Blood wasn’t listening. ‘Jicaque!’ he bellowed. ‘Tom, quick!’

  Kate saw why he was shouting, saw the ’wolf racing for the old shaman, and her blood ran cold. ‘Mom,’ she whispered.

  g

  Tom quickened his pace, pushed his ’wolf body to the limit, his fear and loathing of Marcie lending him brute animal strength.

  He threw himself through the air, broadsided her, his teeth sinking deep into her neck. She squirmed and struggled but he held on. Her blood was bitter in his mouth, like bile. Her flesh was tough and sinewy.

  Rip at her flesh, a part of him screamed deep inside. Kill her, for all she’s done to you. For all she wants to do to Kate. End this.

  He felt her windpipe crushing in his jaws. But then through the screaming, through a blood-red haze, he heard Kate’s voice. Something she’d said to him months ago now.

  ‘Your ’wolf is not a cold-blooded killer – because Tom Anderson is not a cold-blooded killer.’

  He was better than the ’wolf.

  Tom opened his jaws, released her and backed away.

  Snarling, Marcie turned to face him, her jaws streaming thick bloody drool, eyes crazed with pain and rage. She tried weakly to scramble up, to continue the fight.

  But now she was in the path of a stampede of ’wolves. In their fear, their bodies sluggish and unresponsive, they made no attempt to avoid her. Heavy heels and paws stamped on her hide and her head as they stumbled and staggered for the exit, for escape. Tom crouched in front of Jicaque protectively, barking and snapping at anyone who strayed too near him.

  When the panicked crowd had passed, Marcie’s bloodied head was twisted at an unnatural angle. She didn’t get back up.

  The shrill clamour of the fire bell abruptly cut short. Tom saw Stubbe had knocked the alarm from the wall. He roared again, but weaker now …

  An eerie calm settled over the near-empty hall. Jicaque had stopped chanting. He opened his deep amber eyes, reached out his hand and placed it against Tom’s flank. ‘My thanks,’ he whispered. ‘Your ’wolf is no longer needed.’

  Stubbe’s bestial body seemed to shrink and snap in on itself. He shook and staggered as his human self pulled itself out from the body of the ’wolf.

  And Tom could see there was something wrong. Stubbe’s skin was blemished with red bumps. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his hair hung wet and lifeless around his swollen neck.

  Uncertainly, Stubbe advanced on Tom and Jicaque. ‘I … do not need the claws of the beast … to finish you.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what you need. You need a doctor, man.’

  Tom whirled around to find Chung was walking towards them. ‘Score settled,’ he said, as he pulled off his leather jacket and threw it to the floor. ‘The Chapter’s over.’

  Behind him, Tom saw Kate and Blood were clambering down from the stage.

  Then Stacy walked in through the main doors. Sunday ran to stand beside her. ‘Stay away from him,’ she warned Jicaque. ‘Don’t let him touch you.’

  Tom wasn’t sure Stubbe was going to make it across the room to touch any of them. The man looked really sick.

  Stubbe paused, staring at them, his expression shifting between rage and despair, lesions clinging like red leeches to his face. Then he spun to face the stage. ‘Hilfe!’ he shouted, his voice cracking, trying to discern the codechanters through the thick pall of smoke.

  No one answered his call for help.

  As Tom stared in disbelief, Stubbe sank to his knees, his breath rasping and ragged.

  Kate saw Blood run ahead to crouch beside Marcie’s body, human again, pale and naked and face down in a sticky pool of blood.

  He looked up at her, and shook his head. ‘I think she’s a goner,’ he said. ‘Neck’s broken.’

  Kate didn’t want to get any closer. She turned away, walked shakily over to her friends. Inside, she felt numb.

  Stubbe clutched his sides as she drew closer. She saw he was weeping.

  ‘Tochter?’

  Kate stared at him coldly.

  ‘Over now.’ He feebly gestured to where Marcie lay motionless on the floor. ‘Finished.’

  She looked deep into his watery eyes. The light in them was fading. A word formed in her throat but she was almost afraid to say it.

  ‘Dad?’

  Stubbe stared at her for some time, his eyes expressionless, like dark holes poked in his florid face. ‘Kate,’ he whispered.

  Then he fell forward and was still.

  Kate stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes, and took a step closer.

  ‘No, Kate,’ Stacy warned her. ‘You don’t want to catch what he’s got.’

  ‘What the hell happened?’ asked Tom. He was human again, wrapping Stacy’s scarf around his waist like a sarong. ‘Jicaque, did you do this?’

  He shook his head, staring thoughtfully down at the body before them.

  ‘It was me,’ said Stacy. ‘And you, I guess, Tom. That joke you made at the lab about giving Stubbe the flu so he could sneeze himself to death? I got to thinking … Stubbe lived four hundred years ago, right? Long time before any kinds of inoculation. So I started mixing up those cold-store viruses into a cocktail …’

  ‘Kind of an ultravirus,’ chimed Sunday.

  ‘Of course,’ Tom murmured. ‘His body would have no defence against modern diseases.’

  ‘But how did it work so fast?’ asked Blood.

  ‘The rate his cells were reproducing themselves in that skin sample …’ Stacy whistled. ‘I took a chance that the same thing would happen once his whole body woke up – all those regenerated cells buzzing away inside him …’

  ‘So that’s why Chung stuck the pin in him,’ Kate said dully.

  Chung nodded. ‘Stacy said I had to get the ultravirus into his bloodstream.’

  She looked for the mark on Stubbe’s ankle, but it was lost in a mass of crimson lesions.

  ‘His metamorphosis into the ’wolf worked for us,’ said Stacy quietly.

  Tom half-laughed. ‘Not from where I was standing.’

  Stacy shook her head. ‘The ’wolf metabolism works faster and harder, remember? The virus was able to replicate itself through his body far more quickly.’

  ‘Then if Stacy’s ultravirus was wearing Stubbe down, killing him from inside …’ Blood looked hard at Jicaque. ‘What were you doing all that time? Counting sheep?’

  Jicaque’s leathery face crinkled in a smile. ‘I told you how in the Old Time the shaman of my people would heal the sick by going into a deep trance and travelling to the spirit world in search of a cure.’

  ‘You were trying to heal Stubbe?’ asked Tom disbelievingly.

  ‘Stubbe was not my patient. I was reaching out to the man who gave him life.’

  Sunday frowned. ‘Liebermann?’

  ‘No,’ Kate said. ‘My father.’

  ‘I sought to overcome Stubbe from within just as Stacy did,’ said Jicaque, ‘but by calling on the last and best of Hal Folan.’

  ‘And he heard you,’ Kate breathed.

  Jicaque smiled sadly. ‘Your father was a stro
ng and noble man. Even with all the magics at Liebermann’s command, his soul could not be stripped clean from the energies that sustained him in life.’

  Kate looked down. ‘Always was a stubborn son of a bitch,’ she whispered.

  ‘Maybe that’s how I kept ahead of Stubbe, Kate, even when I was exhausted,’ Tom murmured. ‘Your dad was there in him, holding him back, slowing him down.’

  She nodded, wiping her tears. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Sunday, peering through the smoke across to the stage. ‘What about the fire?’

  ‘Seems to have gone out,’ said Chung uneasily.

  They heard movement up on the stage.

  Araminta emerged, clutching a fire-extinguisher that was almost as big as she was. ‘They’re dead,’ she shouted, choking on smoke. ‘Liebermann and the others … burned or smothered, I can’t tell. And Takapa …’ She looked shattered, gazing around at the devastation, the bodies and blood in her once immaculate gallery. ‘All our dreams … our plans …’ She flung the extinguisher to the floor and screamed at them: ‘What am I supposed to do now?’

  ‘It’s your gallery,’ said Blood mildly. ‘You can sodding well clean it up by yourself.’

  Araminta stared at him, speechless, her bulging eyes ready to pop out of her head.

  ‘We’re letting that bitch off the hook?’ asked Chung in disbelief.

  ‘You want the cops to find all this?’ Blood shot back at him.

  Stacy gave Araminta a little wave. ‘Merry Christmas! And adios!’

  Then Blood started to usher everyone towards the exit. ‘Now, Sunday, I left your dad around the side of the building,’ he said apologetically. ‘He may have a lump on his head, but …’

  ‘I will cure him of his condition,’ said Jicaque. He placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. ‘Just as I will cure you of yours.’

  ‘It takes a lunar month,’ Tom said to Sunday.

  ‘And it works, too,’ said Stacy, sounding just a little surprised. ‘Even I have to admit that.’

  Kate felt Tom’s hand slide into hers and squeeze reassuringly.

  ‘It may not be all over yet,’ he said softly. ‘But it’s the beginning of the end.’