by Craig Zerf
After an hour of searching Troy stopped and held up his hand. ‘No sign of them. What about you?’ He asked the Bloodborn.
Sylvian shook his head. ‘Can’t feel anything. They must be taking the night off.’
‘I agree,’ confirmed Troy. ‘But why? And what is going on? Why the sudden rash of murders? Every night for three nights and then stop? This is not good, I feel like we are running from behind on this one. And let’s face it; the fact of the matter is that if the gargoyle guardians don’t see them, then there is little chance that we can intervene. We’ll have to talk to William. This sort of open murder has never happened before; normally the bloodsuckers are a little more discreet. Let’s head back to the house and talk to the Omega.’
***
Troy and Sylvian stood in the kitchen while Tag made a pot of tea and Emily fried a few rare steaks for the young werewolf and the Bloodborn. The two of them had gone through the comings and goings in London and now both William and Merlin were sitting quietly and thinking.
As Tag poured the tea, there was a shimmer of blue light in the room and the Morrigan appeared, morphing from crow to beautiful women as she did so.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Enquired Merlin snappily.
The Morrigan shrugged, which did all sorts of interesting things to the front of her tight dress.
‘Hoo, mama,’ said Tag with feeling. ‘That be some fine looking body language you expressing there, miss Morrigan.’
The goddess smiled. ‘Why, thank you, Tag. As for you, Merlin,’ she continued. ‘I have been here, there. Nowhere, everywhere. Why? Are you now my keeper?’
‘I called for you,’ said Merlin. ‘Needed advice.’
‘I know,’ admitted the goddess. ‘I heard. But I am not at your beck and call, Merlin, however important you may think that you are.’
‘Pah!’ Exclaimed the magician. ‘You come when you are not needed and hide when you are.’
The Morrigan smiled again. ‘Come, come now, my dear,’ she said. ‘Be nice. Anyhow, I come with news. Not good news, I hasten to say, but news none-the-less.’
‘Well, spit it out, woman,’ snapped Merlin. ‘Before it becomes so out of date that its worth is nullified.’
‘Word amongst the gods is that your Nathan Tremblay has deposed the old Capo and is now the new leader of the Nosferatu. Apparently he has decided that the brethren will now take their rightful place at the top of the food-chain and, as such, he has advocated a more aggressive stance. It seems as if he has adopted the Law of Thelema for his followers.’
‘The Law of Thelema?’ Asked Troy.
‘The Law of Thelema was developed in the early 1900s by Aleister Crowley, an English writer and magician,’ answered Merlin. ‘Met him a couple of times, complete loon. Anyway, he said, Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Great way to start total anarchy.’
‘So you think that this spate of killings in London could be Nathan’s way of making his mark?’ Asked William.
‘Nor sure,’ admitted Merlin. ‘Seems pretty random. Kill a few street thugs and a tourist and then stop. Must be some sort of plan, we just aren’t seeing it.’
‘There’s more,’ said the Morrigan.
‘What?’
She grinned. ‘Seems as though our young Capo failed to mention to his brethren that his Do as thou will thing didn’t stretch to cover Chinatown. In all fairness, he probably didn’t even know about the treaty. Word is that three of his brethren ventured into Chinatown in an attempt to feed. Ended up being barbequed.’
Merlin shook his head. ‘Idiots. I hadn’t heard. They must have run into Tengshe. What were they thinking? Maybe this is a good thing,’ continued Merlin. ‘Maybe this time the Chinese will help us in our fight.’
The Morrigan shook her head. ‘No way. There are so few dragons left. They will protect their own, no more, no less. And now my news has been delivered I shall leave.’ She bowed to all, shimmered into her crow guise and disappeared.
Everyone started talking at once, discussing Nathan and his new position and arguing as to what he might be planning.
‘Look, one thing is for certain,’ said William. ‘Nathan is not going to stop now. It sounds as if he has declared open season on humans and there is no way that we will be able to keep on this. Not by ourselves at any rate. I think that we shall need help.’
‘From who?’ Asked Troy.
‘I know many people,’ answered William. ‘And it’s time to visit a couple of them and get real.’
While the Omega was talking, Merlin stood up and left, headed for the Prof’s room. He opened the door, walked in and nodded his greeting.
‘Just had a visitor,’ he informed the Prof. ‘And there’s something that we need to talk about. It’s the Morrigan. I think that we might have a problem.’
Chapter 20
William looked out of the window at the iconic revolving sign below. New Scotland Yard. He had gone over the speech in his mind many times but whatever way that he said it…well, it sounded insane.
So he has made his appointment with his old friend, Sir Jasper, Met Police Commissioner and head of Scotland Yard, taken Emily with him and then simply came out with it.
The dialog had not gone down well.
Sir Jasper tapped his pen on the desk, his usually expressionless face set in a deep frown. ‘Quite frankly, William,’ he said. ‘I have no idea how to react. If this is a joke of some sort, then it is in very poor taste. God knows that I don’t see enough of you but to take my time up with some nonsensical story about witches and vampires and werewolves is discourteous in the extreme. I might assume that this was part of some elaborate joke, apart from the fact that it’s not even vaguely funny.’ He shook his head. ‘I mean, if you’re in some sort of trouble then out with it. We’ve been friends long enough that you can come clean. Whatever it is, I shall do my best to help.’
William turned from the window. ‘Werewolves and vampires,’ he said. ‘I made no mention of witches, Jasper.’
‘Makes no difference,’ snapped the chief. ‘It’s all bloody Harry Potter nonsense and you know it. Gangs of blood sucking fiends roaming the streets of London, packs of werewolves fighting against them. Everybody knows that there is no such thing as a vampire let alone a human being that changes into a wolf. It’s beyond ludicrous.’
‘You’ll have to show him,’ said Emily.
‘Show me what?’ Asked Jasper.
‘I was trying to avoid that, if at all possible.’
‘Avoid what,’ asked Jasper again. ‘Stop being so cryptic.’
‘Let’s face it,’ said Em. ‘The time has come. I think that it’s the only way to convince him.’
William nodded and then started to strip, removing his shirt first and then his boots. As he started to unbuckle his belt, Jasper stood up. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing? Stop it. Good God, man. This is the headquarters of Scotland Yard, not some sort of strip joint. Put your clothes back on this instant.’
Sir Jasper shot out of his seat and strode towards William.
‘Stop,’ commanded Emily as she brought the power of her coercion into play.
The Chief jerked to a halt immediately as his need to obey overcame his desire to stop his friend stripping off in his office.
‘Go back,’ instructed Em.
Jasper lurched back to his seat like a marionette, his face a picture of strain as he vainly attempted to resist the overwhelming power of Em’s compulsion.
‘Sit.’
Like an errant dog the chief of Scotland Yard slammed back down into his chair.
‘Now stay still and watch,’ finished Emily.
Jasper stared at William, his face set, his eyes wide open and unblinking.
And William changed, morphing slowly into a wolf the size of a horse. Teeth like sabers, muscles like slabs of concrete and eyes that looked into your very soul.
Then he growled.
***
The chief’s trembling hand sp
illed some of his tea into his saucer as he tried to convey some of the liquid to his mouth.
After another attempt he simply gave up and replaced the cup and saucer on his desk. ‘How long?’ He asked. ‘I mean, how long have you been afflicted?’
William smiled. ‘Some would object to you using the word affliction. But in answer to your question, many hundreds of years.’
‘Good lord. Both World Wars?’
William nodded. ‘One and Two. Agincourt and the hundred year war. The crusades, both Boer wars. Actually, looking back over time it seems that mostly mankind has simply been kicking the crap out of themselves.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘What a stupid race we are.’
‘And you?’ Enquired the chief of Emily. ‘It was you that turned me into a puppet, was it?’
Emily nodded. ‘Sorry about that but we needed you to see.’
‘Oh I saw, alright,’ concurred Jasper. ‘And a right scary thing it was. But not as terrifying as what you did. You took away all my free will. If you had told me to pour gasoline over myself and light it, I would have obeyed. Bloody painful as well. Like someone was trying to smash my brain out of my head with a hammer. Still, needs must, I suppose. No harm done.’ He turned back to William. ‘What do you suggest that we do now? I mean, we can’t exactly wheel you in to parliament and have your scare the bejesus out of everyone, simply wouldn’t do us any good. Half of that lot have got dodgy tickers to start with. You’d probably end up killing most of them and the other half would simply refuse to believe what they’d seen. They’d call it mass hypnosis or some such rubbish. Bloody politicians. I suppose that we could get the PM involved but I’d rather not. She’d listen but then she’d simply spend half a day talking at me and by the end she’d have said nothing and we’d be back at square one.’
‘We cannot tell the truth,’ said Williams. ‘Obviously. What we need to do is think of a way to prepare the public and the police force for what seems to be happening and then take it from there.’
‘A cover up, you mean?’ Questioned Jasper.
William nodded.
‘No problem. Us Brits are top notch at that sort of thing. We’ll put it about that a bunch of foreigners, probably Russian or Ukrainian, have come over here illegally and are engaged in some sort of turf war. Old Eastern European gang custom that involves the ritual killing of your foe. Vlad the Impaler type of thing. I’ll make sure that we find enough evidence to support the facts. You know, tattoos, pendants with bat wings on, that sort of crap. Actually, I’ll also get some trusted chaps from MI5 and MI6 onto this. Spooks are good at this disinformation game. They’ll fit right in. Won’t even need to tell them the truth, simply tell them what end result I want and Bob’s your uncle.’
‘Good,’ affirmed William. ‘Look, we should have more info for you in the very near future. I’m sure that this isn’t simply some random increase in public killing just because Nathan wants to flex a few muscles. No, there’s more to this and until we know exactly what it is, we’re still whistling in the dark. However, let’s do what we can to ready the troops.’ He stood up and held out his hand. The chief stood and shook it. ‘Thanks awfully, Jasper, old chum,’ said William. ‘And sorry about the whole, wolf thing.’
‘No worries,’ asserted the chief. ‘Anyway, as I said, the worst part of the ordeal was the mind control thingy that your girl did. Most disconcerting.’
‘Well, she’s not, my girl, as you put it, but glad there’s no hard feelings.’
Jasper shook Emily’s hand and then watched as the two of them left the building.
Moments later he was on the phone to someone he knew in MI5.
***
‘Most of the victims were criminals,’ noted Troy.
‘So?’ Shrugged Emily. ‘London is full of criminals.’
‘No,’ denied Troy. ‘Not like, ninety percent of Londoners and tourists. But pretty much ninety percent of the dead had form. Mugging, GBH, larceny. That can’t be a coincidence.’
‘True,’ admitted Em. ‘So what are you saying?’
‘Obviously Nathan hasn’t decided to become a force for good and he’s sending his Nosferatu out into the streets to defend the innocent and kill the evil. Like some sort of Spiderman on steroids.’
‘Well, obviously,’ concurred Em. ‘Because he killed a couple of innocents and snacked on them.’
‘So what the hell are they doing?’
‘They’re taking over,’ said Tag.
‘What?’ Asked Troy and Em together.
‘Back in the day,’ answered Tag. ‘When I was still a drug dealer, if we wanted to take over a certain area then we would start by leaning on the soldiers. The low ranking dudes in that area. You control them first and then you move your way up. Starve the head for a while by cutting off the tail. Spread discourse and fear, make everything harder for the existing bosses to control. Then after you’ve softened them up, whittled away at their base for a while, you strike. Take out the head. Put yourself in charge.’
‘So you’re saying that Nathan is setting himself up to be the king of London’s criminal underworld?’ Confirmed Emily.
Tag nodded. ‘It’s a classic takeover bid. I reckon that he be starting with the higher-ups soon. Next couple of days or so. You’ll see, we’ll get news of some mid-level gangster type found torn to pieces. Or sucked dry like a prune.’
‘Maybe he’ll turn them.’ Added Troy.
‘No way,’ denied Tag. ‘Not at first. At first it all be about intimidation. Gaining fear and respect. He’ll kill a few more. Then he’ll consolidate with one gang and take out the others. He’d have to. There’s no way that he could control all the gangs. Even him. There be just too many thieves and cut throats and rapists that would want to take over. He’s gonna have to be real harsh to get them all to get in line.’
‘I think that you’re right,’ said Emily. ‘But why would he do it? I mean, the Nosferatu have countless wealth, so it’s not money.’
‘Power,’ said Troy. ‘He’s all about power. That’s why he turned. That’s why he does everything and anything. Control. Power.’
‘Maybe,’ conceded Em. ‘But I’m not one hundred percent convinced about that. He’s a schemer. Everything he does seems to have some ulterior motive. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.’
The kitchen door opened and William strode in. It had been two days since he and Em had visited Sir Jasper in London and the chief had asked to see William again that morning. The Omega had been at the Scotland Yard HQ for most of the day.
He placed a briefcase on the kitchen table.
‘Wassup, big wolf?’ Asked Tag.
William smiled. ‘Got a surprise for you, Tag,’ he said. ‘All of you, actually.’ He opened the briefcase and took out a wad of laminated cards. He flipped through them and passed one to the big man.
Tag looked at it and then his face spread into a massive grin. ‘Is this for real, man?’
William nodded. ‘Totally.’
Tag laughed out loud. ‘I can’ believe it. I’m a bloody superspy.’
He flipped the card over to Emily who picked it up and read it. About the size of a credit card. On the front a close up head and shoulders of Tag. On the top left the words MI7, a coat-of-arms and ‘The Security Service’. Under that, a signature next to the words, ‘Authorized Signature, Eliza Taylor, Director General MI5. At the very bottom of the card, ‘By Order of Her Majesty The Queen’ – Regnum Defende, In defense of the Realm.
William handed out some more of the cards. ‘We are now all secret agents,’ he informed them. ‘The Pack as well. Even the Prof and Muller. We are classed as designation MI7 and are now subject to the Official Secrets Act of 1989 section C 6. Don’t let it go to your heads, it’s simply so that we can refuse to cooperate with the police if need be. If they question you and you need to get out, simply flash your card and tell them that you are acting in Defense of the Realm under her majesty’s direct orders. That should do it.’
‘D
o I have a license to kill?’ Asked Tag.
‘Why? Would that make a difference?’ Retorted William.
Tag thought for a few seconds and then shook his head. ‘Suppose not, I tend to do it anyway. But still, this is awesome. Only a short while ago I was a dope dealer and now I’m friggin James Bond.’
William pushed the rest of the cards over to Troy. ‘There, you’re Alpha. Go tell your Pack.’
Troy nodded and left the room with the cards.
‘Hey, agent Tag,’ said William.
‘Yes, boss.’
‘How about you make us all some tea? Stirred, not shaken.’
Chapter 21
The white Ford Transit van was parked on the sidewalk outside the front of the King’s Cross Community Center. Two men sat in the front of the van. Both wore dark glasses despite the fact that the sun was down. The driver and extra muscle for just-in-case.
Next to the van stood a wiry teenager. Hood pulled up to cover his short hair, face awash with pimples and jeans that sat so low down on his hips that it was questionable whether it was a fashion statement or if he had simply lost his belt. His name was Jamie, and he was the official runner.
The side door of the van had been slid open in the back to reveal an interior that resembled a middle management office in an accounting firm. Solid wooden desk, beige carpets, wood paneling. A limited edition hunting print on the back wall. To the side a small drinks caddy and a filing cabinet.
Mister Stopes believed in giving the punters a bit of class. When you’re taking their money, he would always say, at least ensure that they think that you’re doing so with a bit of class, not some third rate fleecing. Think like an executive in an insurance company. A thief, make no mistake, but a thief in a suit. And that is the same as being a business man. And although people hate being robbed, they can live with doing a bit of business. Gives them an out. Makes them feel less like a bunch of cowards and more like they’re simply investing in their future.
