by Roy Gill
“Cameron, he looks just like the Other You,” said Eve.
Cameron moved toward the black furred shape. It seemed to be more shadow than wolf. In response it turned and darted away, quick as a thought.
“We’ve got to follow him,” said Cameron.
“Oh great. Must we?” Eve groaned and pulled cobwebs from her hair. “Because I’ve already had a trying day –”
But Cameron had started running, and Morgan was close behind.
Cameron powered through the streets. The wolf seemed to flicker as it ran, gaining solidity then fading back into night. There were moments when the track went cold, then he would catch a flash of green eyes – and that sudden stab of recognition. Contact re-established, the wolf would turn and run once more.
The crowds thickened as he neared the top of Leith Walk. The wolf raced across the busy road, weaving through four lanes of traffic.
A car slammed on its brakes.
“Control your dog!” someone shouted.
“Love to,” Cameron threw over his shoulder, and pressed on.
The wolf disappeared down a steep road by the side of the Playhouse Theatre. At the bottom, a neglected courtyard gave onto a drying green with bins and lines of frosted washing.
“Where’s he gone?” Eve searched, black hair flying out behind her.
“It’s ok, I’ve got the scent.” Morgan’s head was held high. “Nose is never wrong.” There was a hint of a movement at the corner of the green. “There!”
Cameron pounded onwards, trainers scrunching on cold gravel, following a winding path that led past an old church and up the side of Calton Hill. His heart thumped as the gradient increased, the wolf ahead loping between patches of darkness. All at once, the path levelled out. The city was revealed spread below them: all grey stone and bristling with wintery light.
“Lost him. Gah!” Morgan skidded to a halt and spat in disgust.
“So much for Super Nose.” Eve bent over, breathing heavily.
“He can’t have just vanished!”
“Why not? Ghost Wolf just appeared, after all.”
“Scent is historic, right? I can track across time as well as place. Even if he’d shifted to the Parallel there’d be something left behind.” Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. “Must’ve gone somewhere I can’t track.”
“Back to where he came from?” Eve huffed out chilly air and turned to Cameron. “Wherever that was. What do you reckon?”
“Not sure… I just knew he wanted me to follow him.” Cameron looked vague for a second. He rubbed the side of his head. “I think we’re here for a reason.”
Morgan exchanged glances with Eve. “Ok, mate. You’re in charge, because I haven’t got a clue right now. Where next?”
Cameron scanned his surroundings. The hilltop was a strange cold place, scattered with statues and old buildings. There was a tower shaped like an up-turned telescope, a huge domed monument sheltering an urn, and a green-roofed observatory. Further away, on a flattish plain, a row of giant stone columns was lit up against the night sky. Arranged around three sides of an otherwise empty space, they gave the startling impression someone had randomly dropped half a Greek temple onto the hill.
At the base of the columns, a group of men in tattered bird costumes seemed to be practising some sort of play. They moved back and forth in a ritualised dance, the feathers on their clothes fluttering in the wind.
After a year living in Edinburgh, Cameron was used to seeing performers in unusual outfits wandering the streets, promoting their shows. But this was months before the Festival started.
He beckoned his friends and pointed. “I’ve got a feeling we should start over there.”
They made their way across the grass. As they approached the performers, one of them broke away, walking with a stiff-legged gait. Shiny black and white feathers were stitched into the weave of his business suit and the top of his bowler hat. His face was lacquered with greasepaint and a pointed cardboard beak had been tied around his head with string.
“Looks like a magpie,” Eve said tentatively. “Is that what you are?”
The performer’s head jerked back in indignation. His gloved hand indicated the full length of his body from clawed boot to beak. His chest puffed out. He made no sound, but the meaning of his dumb show was obvious: Meant to be a magpie? I am a magpie.
“Ok, Magpie-Banker,” said Eve. “Maybe you can help. We’re looking for a wolf.”
The bird-man blinked for a second. He pointed at Morgan then Cameron and cocked his head. He covered his mouth and shook convulsively.
“The four-legged kind,” Morgan growled. “You bird-brained –”
“Morgan! Be nice. I’m sure Mr Magpie would help if he could. Perhaps if we traded something?” Eve reached to her wrist and unclasped a shiny bracelet. She dangled it in the air. “Bet you’d like this?”
The performer opened his mouth and let loose a deafening, rattling squawk right in Eve’s face. Startled, she dropped the bracelet. He snatched it and strutted away.
“Now hold on…” Morgan was instantly on the warpath. His chest swelled belligerently and he stalked after the thief.
The magpie-man’s eyes went wide. He gestured towards the three-sided monument and squawked again. His hand foraged inside his suit and he produced a business card, which he handed to Eve with a flourish. The typewritten message said:
COME TO THE AUGURY
Diverse Questions Answered via The Medium of Birds
AAARK!
“I’ve heard of the Augur of Calton Hill,” said Cameron. “Gran told me about him once. It’s how she discovered where to go for her resurrection magic.”
The bird-man made a rolling gesture with his glove. Eve turned the card and read the reverse. In smaller type it said:
Terms and Conditions Apply:
1. The Augur will Answer Strictly the First Question put to Him.
2. Only One Question per Applicant.
3. Entry is by Ordeal – You Shall Confront That Which you Fear the Most.
And then, in a smaller font still:
The Calton Hill Auguries accept no liability for death, disaster or insanity experienced by applicants. Let Courage be your Watchword & Knowledge your True Reward!
Eve sighed. “Oh brilliant. Why couldn’t it be an ordeal by hot chocolate? Or puppies?”
“It augurs well for your future,” Morgan said slowly. Cameron and Eve looked at him. “That two-faced god must’ve known we’d come here… That’s what he said when he gave us the Omniclavis. It got stuck inside my head.”
“Where it no doubt had loads of space to roam about freely,” Eve said brightly. She bit her lip. “Sorry, I joke when I’m nervous. Haven’t you noticed?”
“We don’t have to go,” said Cameron, watching her with concern. “They can’t make us. We can head back down the hill and go home –”
“To the shop filled with Grey, or the house with no wards? Great options, mate. And with the Parallel shutting up, my favourite bolt-holes are all out of commission.”
“Morgan –” said Cameron warningly.
“No, he’s right,” said Eve. “We’ve got loads of questions, like how do we beat Grey and Black, and stop them destroying the Parallel? And what’s up with you changing into a wolf all the time?” She took a deep breath. “We’ve got to go through with it.”
“Ordeal of fear it is, then.” Cameron gave a determined grin. “Let’s world-shift and get on with it.” He closed his eyes and let the song of the Parallel wash over him.
On the hillside, the monument began to grow. Pillar after pillar sprouted, rising up from the earth like colossal stone palm trees. Laurel-decorated lintels faded into being, joining together with the building’s fast-emerging fourth side. The newly formed quadrangle was open to the sky and every surface teemed with avian life. On the ground, small birds like starlings, pigeons and robins congregated, while high on the tops of the columns owls hooted, gulls screeched and sharp-beaked raptor
s scanned for prey with robotic precision.
As the Parallel settled and stabilised, Cameron once more heard the low call of a wolf – so close it was as if a whiskery muzzle was pressed tight to his face, a cold nose touching his cheek. This time he had no doubt where the howl was coming from: the wolf presence that had vanished earlier had returned.
So you’re back with me, are you? he whispered, feeling strangely reassured. Good. Let’s see what trouble you’ve got us into.
Morgan was studying the many-pillared monument. He whistled. “Bit squawky now it’s gone auto-complete, but standing strong. You’ve got to respect that. No Greys here!”
“No,” said Cameron. “Not yet.”
The magpie-daemon had transformed too, becoming more bird than costumed man. His feathers protruded directly from his skin, their lustrous sheen glinting in the torchlight that burned at the corners of the Parthenon-style temple. He clacked his beak. “Travellers three, if you wish to enter the Augur’s cave, you must show me some spine.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Morgan gave him a baleful look. “Trial by fear. We get it. When do we start?”
The magpie-daemon chittered and jabbed at Morgan.
“Hey, what’s that for?” Morgan took a step backwards, raising an arm to protect his face. No longer tawdry painted cardboard, the daemon’s bill was razor sharp.
Another bird-man left the group that had been dancing together. His feathers were thick and white, his eyes disturbingly large and gold. “Make a pen to unlock a mind,” it cawed at Cameron, “from a tool of flight left behind – what is it?”
“How do you mean?”
The owl-daemon hooted, and swiped at him. Cameron yelped and ducked.
“There’s more coming.” Eve pointed. “Look out!”
Obsidian-black crows the size of burly wrestlers strutted forward, chanting, “Sturdy stem and jagged edge, often lost behind the hedge; collect a set, put ’em by; pick the one that lets you fly.”
“It’s a riddle!” shouted Cameron. As the yammering, chattering crowd of bird-daemons clustered closer, pushing and shoving, he tried to remember everything that had been said. Spine… lost behind the hedge…a tool of flight that could be made into a pen… a quill! “Feathers! They’re all descriptions of feathers!”
“And?” a gull-daemon cawed. “And? And? And?”
“You want more?”
“Something that allows flight… escape… with stem and jagged edge.” Eve’s eyes lit up. “They’re talking about keys as well!”
The screeching frenzy of the bird-men slowed, but they continued to jab and jostle. “And? And? And?”
“We’re not there yet,” Cameron jumped up, trying to see Morgan and Eve over the scrum. “What can be a feather and a key? Gah! I hate cryptic crosswords. And you can just shove off.” He pushed at a long-legged heron-daemon. “Come on! When is a feather a key – or a key like a feather?”
“When it’s a mighty morphing super-key!” Morgan roared, tearing the Omniclavis out from round his neck. “Come on, you pecking horrors, see what you make of this!”
He held the Omniclavis aloft. It grew long and thin, its jagged metal tines becoming down-soft. For a moment, the outline of a feather was superimposed on top, then it blew up and into the air, leaving Morgan clutching just the ordinary key-shaped Omniclavis again.
The crowd of bird daemons froze.
“Strike two,” Cameron observed. “One left!”
“Still no sparkles.” Eve pulled herself out from under the wing of a greasy pigeon-daemon.
They watched as the feather blew over the monument. A skraarking cry echoed and three tall spaces in between the columns abruptly grew dark, the hillside beyond vanishing from view.
“Access to the Augury!” Cameron punched the air. “We did it!”
“Personally I’m impressed by my deductive brilliance,” said Morgan.
“Our deductive brilliance –” Cameron began, then he let loose an involuntary cry as a set of nail-sharp talons gripped him from behind, and pointed feet kicked his shins. He was being frogmarched towards the space between two pillars. To either side of him, crow-daemons were propelling a struggling Eve and Morgan forward as well.
“This’ll be the test!” he yelled. “Quick! We’ve got to decide what we’re asking. We can’t all say the same thing. Each choose a question, and stick to it, whatever happens.”
“The Greys. I wanna know how to get ’em. I’ll ask how to stop the Greys.” Morgan twisted sharply in the bird-man’s grip, tearing free. “Leave off, crow-breath! If I’m going in, it’s under my own power. See you on the other side!” With a raucous whoop, he ran towards the opening and vanished.
“Eve! What about you?”
“Dr Black,” Eve gasped. “I’ll find out how to stop Dr Black. He’s the smart one.” Her face contorted as she neared the portal between the pillars. “Cameron, I really am scared…”
“Don’t be. You’ll be great!”
“But it’s my greatest fear, Cam. I know what that is! I can’t –”
Her voice cut off abruptly.
“Guess it’s up to me to ask how to save the Parallel…” A claw shoved in Cameron’s back and he toppled headfirst through the opening. There was the sound of a thousand bird wings flapping, and everything went dark.
CHAPTER 13
Werewolf Parallel
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRK!
Cameron reached out and slammed down his palm, muffling the awful cry. A moment passed as he came properly to his senses, then he drew the hand holding his phone back under the covers and cancelled the hated alarm.
6.55 AM
Did he really have to get up? Already?
Yes. Yes, he did – if he was to stand any chance of making it down the road, onto the bus and across town in time for his shift at Odyssey.
As he soaped his hair in the shower – choosing to set the grubby dial to Too Hot (not Ice Cold) – an ooky sensation churned in his stomach. It was like there was something stressing him, something important he’d forgotten to do…
…some trial or ordeal he had to face up to…
Rent was due next week, and there was his share of the bills as well, but he’d have just enough to cover that, if he was careful… His horrible boss would tear a strip off him if he was late – he was always looking for an excuse to change Cameron, to squash him down and reshape him into someone more punctual and efficient – but that wasn’t any different to usual either… It was just another ordinary, boring day.
Like any other.
In the kitchen, Eve sat at the formica table, reading the Cauldlockheart Courier. She was staring at a ‘Whatever happened to…?’ article about people who’d been on talent shows on the telly.
“You remember Rhys Wright?” she said, not looking up.
“Vaguely.” Cameron hastily buttered some toast. “He was the one that looked like a duck, right?”
“I thought he was cute.” Eve pouted. “Anyway, he’s been chucked off that soap opera, Prophecies. The producers think no one’s interested in him any more. He’s back living with his mum, and stacking shelves in a supermarket. It’s terrible.”
“Eve,” he said. “You stack shelves. I stack shelves. It’s what people do.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like we’ve ever done anything different, is it?” She put her coffee mug down on Rhys Wright’s beaming duck-face. “Imagine having all that, and then going back to being normal.”
“Shocking.” Cameron brushed some crumbs off his work baseball cap. “At least he got a chance to try something else.”
How had he ended up flat-sharing with Eve again?
He remembered she’d been staying in some grim spider-infested place in a posh street in Edinburgh, but it all seemed a bit vague…
“See you later, eh?”
“Mmmm.” Eve flipped the page, the story forgotten. She lifted her hand and made an approximation of a tipping motion. “Maybe at Black’s, yeah?”
“I guess.
Not like there’s anywhere else, is there?”
Outside it was a nothing-sort-of day, the sky flat and white like someone had forgotten to add the colour. Seemed ages since he’d seen any different… The queasy sensation plucked at him again as he neared Odyssey. He pulled his greasy baseball cap straight on his head. He had to be wearing it in sight of the store, or Mr Grey would have a fit.
His boss was a stickler like that.
The front of the shop was bright and gleaming – all fresh carpets, scented plastic and glowing computer screens. The customers would come in, browse for their choice among thousands of goods, and order it up. A few minutes later, their shiny new microwave or hamster cage or set of earrings or whatever would come trundling down a conveyer belt – as if by magic – to be handed over by the smiling counter staff.
“There’s no magic of course. Just sweat and hard graft,” Mr Grey had said to Cameron on his first day, as he led him to the cavernous warehouse behind the scenes. “You backroom elves simply keep an eye on the display, and when a code number pops up, you go bounding off and find the product.” Grey massaged his chin and eyed Cameron doubtfully. “The first letter and number combination gives you the row, the second the aisle, and finally the appropriate bay. Do you think you can manage that?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid.”
“I hope not. Your CV was hardly sparkling. No qualifications at all, tut, tut. How do you account for that?”
Cameron gave his new boss his blankest look. He’d long since grown tired of explaining his circumstances. “My dad died. I ended up living with my gran, working for her. She didn’t care if I went back to school at all, so I never did. She went a bit mad in the end.”
“And now you’re on your own, trying to make it in the big bad world.” Grey placed a clammy hand on Cameron’s shoulder. His breath was awful, somehow sugary and mushroomy all at once, and Cameron fought the urge to choke.
