Location, Location, Damnation

by Nick Moseley

  It was that moment, where he completely lost control of himself, that saved his life.

  Freed of the restraint his willpower had imposed on it, the power Trev had been accumulating in his hands escaped. It was unable to retreat back into his body because the flow of energy had been directed outward, toward the extremities, and couldn't back up on itself. So instead it took the line of least resistance and left the body altogether.

  Trev's hands had already been glowing with the gathered energy. As the scream erupted from his lungs, both hands flared with escaping power. They went off like a pair of the flash grenades used by special forces to blind and disorientate enemies. Jack, his eyes bulging as he went for Trev's neck, got the full force of it right in the face.

  The werewolf flung himself backwards, throwing his forepaws up in front of his face to shield his eyes, and howled in pain. Trev felt the weight lift off his arms and opened his own eyes to see Jack reeling on his haunches. Gritting his teeth, he raised his right foot and kicked the werewolf as hard as he could in the chest. Jack went sprawling to the floor, snapping his jaws at the empty air as he went.

  Trev scrambled away, crashing through the line of orange chairs. He reached the wall and dragged himself upright, snatching Caladbolg from the holster at his waist as he did so. He activated the lightning-blade, and immediately the panic subsided, replaced with the familiar feeling of relaxed composure he always experienced when using a vapour weapon. He turned his heightened senses to the room and took stock of his surroundings.

  There were six others in the room, including Jack. All of them had been caught by Trev's firework display and were rubbing at their eyes. There were three women. One was middle-aged and plump and wearing a billowing dress that looked very much like it had been made out of a set of 1970's curtains. Clinging to her was a tall, thin dark-haired girl in her late teens who appeared to have been assembled with too many knees and elbows. She wore ill-fitting jeans and a Marilyn Manson hoodie, and was whimpering softly.

  The third woman was in her mid-to-late twenties, with brown hair cut into a bob. She was wearing faded jeans and a thick blue woollen jumper that hung down to the tops of her thighs. It was loose enough to mostly hide her figure, while still allowing the suggestion of some pleasing curves. She had a pair of trendy, thin-framed glasses perched on top of her head.

  The two men were both middle-aged. One was a balding, paunchy bloke wearing a rumpled, cheap-looking business suit. His dark green tie dangled at half mast and there was some sort of food stain on his shirt. The other man was solidly built, his black hair hanging down to his unshaven jaw. The overalls and boots he wore suggested he was a tradesman of some sort. He was swearing loudly as he tried to clear his vision.

  Trev took no more than a couple of seconds to take this all in. A scrabbling sound drew his attention back to Jack, who had managed to get all four legs correctly aligned underneath him again. The werewolf's eyes were still unfocused, but he sniffed the air and turned toward Trev, the vicious low growl returning to his throat. Muscles tensed underneath his wiry fur as Jack circled to his left.

  'Oh for God's sake,' said Trev. He waggled Caladbolg in the werewolf's direction. 'Give it up, Fido. I'm armed.'

  Jack lowered his head and took a few steps in Trev's direction, the growl becoming a series of sharp, angry barks.

  First Shades, then vampires, then demon-thralls and now werewolves! exclaimed Caladbolg. It's a busy day you're having, laddie.

  'Tell me about it,' mumbled Trev.

  Jack moved closer again. His eyesight appeared to be returning, and he was clearly wary of the crackling weapon in Trev's hand. To reinforce the point, Trev drew Tyrfing as well. Black flames whooshed out from the sword's hilt.

  Look, lass! said Caladbolg. A werewolf. It's been a while, eh?

  You should try to cut off the head, said Tyrfing conversationally. They are most dangerous when they are wounded. A clean kill is better.

  'Bloody hell, I'm not here to kill anyone,' replied Trev.

  'Stop waving those swords around then,' snapped the large woman in the horrible dress. Unable to hear the two vapour weapons talking, she had assumed that Trev's comment was directed to the room.

  'I'd love to,' said Trev. 'The thing is that about half a second after I do, I'll have your friend Jack's teeth clamped around my bollocks. Can't you call him off?'

  'He's not a pet,' the woman replied crossly. 'You're the one that's agitating him. Get out of the way and let us try and calm him down.'

  Trying to oblige her Trev took a step backwards. Jack sprang after him, teeth bared, only to screech to a halt with the point of Caladbolg's blade an inch from his nose.

  'Go ahead, you furry bastard,' Trev snapped. 'Give me an excuse.'

  'Oh shut up, you prat,' said the woman in the blue jumper. Apparently unconcerned by Trev's weapons, she walked over to Jack, holding out her hand and making soothing noises.

  'Don't get too close,' said Trev, tensing himself to leap to her aid if the werewolf decided to go for her.

  'Go and stand in the bloody corner, will you?' she replied. Abashed, Trev backed off.

  Caladbolg sniggered. That's it, lad. Let the wee lass take care of the slavering beast for you.

  'Do you want to go back in your holster?' muttered Trev. The sword went silent. 'Right. Shut up, then.'

  Trev watched as the woman reached Jack. She gently put her hand on his neck and crouched down next to him, then began whispering into his ear while stroking his fur. Jack's eyes remained fixed on Trev, but after a short while the growling faded away and the tension drained from the werewolf's muscles. Finally he dropped his gaze and whimpered.

  'I know, I know,' said the woman, still stroking him. She looked up at the rest of her group, who'd all been standing quietly while she soothed Jack. 'Leon, Danny. Can you take Jack outside for a bit, please?'

  The two men nodded. They led the werewolf out of the door and closed it behind them.

  Relieved, Trev shut down his disappointed weapons and turned to face the large woman. 'Look, Miss Pine, I'm sorry about all that,' he began.

  'I'm Miss Pine,' snapped the woman in the blue jumper, 'and you are a complete pillock.'

  Trev grimaced. 'I'm doing well here, aren't I? Tell you what, I'll go back outside and we'll start again, shall we?'

  'Don't you dare,' replied Miss Pine. 'I don't want you setting Jack off again, so unfortunately you'll have to stay in here for now.' She shook her head. 'What the hell do you want, anyway?'

  'I'm Trev Irwin,' Trev began.

  'Yes, we know. You said at the door.' Miss Pine busied herself replacing the seats that Trev had scattered as he'd scrambled away from Jack. 'I saw you in the paper. You're the man who stopped that egomaniac Alastair Kolley from getting stabbed to death the other day, aren't you? Well done… I think.'

  'Thanks,' replied Trev. 'I think.'

  'You're welcome,' said Miss Pine flatly, arching an eyebrow. 'So, Mr. Irwin, back to my first question – what the hell do you want?'

  'I need your help,' said Trev.

  Miss Pine stared at him for a moment, then let out a sharp, humourless laugh. 'You're not serious, are you?' she asked. 'I heard Jack say he saw you getting out of the Colonel's car. I don't think anyone here is going to help someone who associates with that slimy bastard.'

  'Hang on, it's not like the Colonel and I are friends,' Trev protested. 'I only met him for the first time tonight.'

  'Oh, and he often lends his chauffeur-driven Range Rover to casual acquaintances, does he?'

  'I don't know, maybe he does,' replied Trev, trying not to lose his temper. 'Look, my Granddad is Brackenford's Custodian. Bernard Simms. Maybe that swung it for me. He offered me a lift and I said yes, I don't see why you're making a big thing of it.'

  'You're Bernard's grandson?' said Miss Pine, looking at Trev as if she was reassessing him. 'Well, that explains the vapour weapons, I suppose. I know him reasonably well, your grandfather. He's a good man, but he's
not the power in this town.' She shook her head. 'Why did you have to come bumbling in here, unannounced and armed to the teeth? You've probably set poor Jack back about eighteen months.'

  'Poor Jack?' said Trev, incredulous. 'Are we talking about the same bloke who just tried to kill me? While, I have to point out, you lot stood around watching? It might've been nice if you'd at least tried to pull him off me.'

  'We couldn't pull him off you once he started changing,' said the middle-aged woman, who'd settled herself onto one of the chairs. 'Werewolves' bones and flesh become soft and weak while they alter their shapes. If we'd tried picking him up, we'd have crushed his ribs and his internal organs.'

  'Alice is spot on,' agreed Miss Pine. 'It's your own fault for just turning up like that. If you'd let us know you were coming, we could've let Jack know not to attack you. He thought he was protecting us from a threat.'

  'How could I have let you know I was coming?' asked Trev.

  Miss Pine sighed and walked over to the far wall. It had a pay-phone built into it. 'This,' she said lifting the receiver with a flourish, 'is called a telephone. It's a clever device that allows people to talk to each other over great distances.'

  Trev's face flushed. 'All right, all right,' he said, embarrassed. He was better at dishing out sarcasm than receiving it. 'I didn't have the number.'

  Miss Pine rolled her eyes. 'It's in the book,' she replied. 'I bet your friend the Colonel has it.'

  'I bet he does,' Trev muttered. 'OK, I'm sorry I didn't phone first. Don't you think, though, that Jack overreacted just a little bit?'

  'Jack's been through a lot in his life,' said Miss Pine, 'and most of it at the hands of vampires. He saw an armed man he didn't know, getting out of a powerful vampire's car. I think I can forgive him for jumping to the wrong conclusions.'

  'Easy for you to say, it wasn't your head he was going to bite off.'

  Miss Pine gave him a cold smile. 'No, but I'd have been the one lumbered with mopping the floor afterwards. The vicar will be in tomorrow morning. I wouldn't want to lose the use of this place on your account.'

  Trev looked around at the circle of chairs. 'What do you use this place for, anyway?'

  'I don't know how much you know about werewolves, Mr. Irwin. I'm going to guess that it's not a lot.' Miss Pine suddenly looked very tired. 'Once the lycanthropy shows itself – it usually happens in your late teens – you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to keep control of it. Sometimes it's not too difficult. At other times, though, your body is screaming at you to give in, to let it change, to go and run and chase and… and hunt.' She let out a long breath. Alice was nodding in agreement. The young girl in the hoodie looked like she was doing her best not to cry. 'To answer your question, Mr. Irwin, we meet here to help each other, to give each other strength. Who the hell else is going to understand but other werewolves?'

  'So this is some kind of self-help group?' asked Trev, frowning. 'Sort of a Werewolves Anonymous? "Hi everyone, I'm Bob and I'm a werewolf. It's been three weeks since I last tore someone's throat out", that sort of thing?'

  The reaction to this ill-judged attempt at humour was a frosty silence. Trev cleared his throat and glanced to the side, expecting a tumbleweed to go bouncing past.

  Miss Pine was glowering at him. 'I thought you wanted our help, Mr. Irwin. Or are you using some cunning new type of reverse psychology?'

  'Er,' said Trev. The teenager had given in and started crying. Alice put a beefy arm around her and reinforced Miss Pine's glower with one of her own. 'Sorry.'

  Miss Pine exhaled. 'Look, just make your request, will you? Then we can say "no", you can bugger off and we can try and salvage something from the evening, at least.'

  'I went to see the Colonel because I'm trying to track down another vampire called Corbyn,' explained Trev, 'but the old git wouldn't help me. So I came here in the hope that one of you'd be able to sniff Corbyn out for me.'

  'Corbyn?' hissed Miss Pine. 'What the hell do you want to find that scumbag for?'

  'You've heard of him, then.'

  'Of course. If there's something dodgy going on in Brackenford, the trail leads back to Corbyn more often than not. Not that anyone can ever prove it. He'll buy and sell pretty much anything – stolen goods, drugs, information… even people.' Her expression hardened. 'Last year one of our group disappeared, a girl called Vicki. I tried to find her, but all I turned up were rumours. The strongest of those rumours was that Corbyn had abducted her and sold her to an unidentified buyer. Could've been for slavery, a private zoo, or to some lab for experiments. Probably we'll never know for sure. What I do know is that Corbyn is an utter bastard.'

  Trev played his trump card. 'Well I need to find him and get some information out of him. That's probably going to involve roughing him up a bit. Maybe a big bit. Will you help me?'

  Miss Pine tried to keep a serious expression, but couldn't conceal a hint of a smirk. 'What's in it for me?'

  Trev grinned. 'You get to watch.'

  She laughed. 'Maybe you didn't have a wasted journey after all.'

  'Is that a "yes", then?'

  'Not necessarily. Corbyn's been around a long time and he's had a lot of people go after him over the years, yet he's still alive. That should tell you something.'

  'He knows how to look after himself,' said Trev.

  'That's probably an understatement,' replied Miss Pine. 'You'd have to be a very competent fighter to go up against him. The way Jack blindsided you earlier doesn't really fill me with confidence in your combat skills.'

  'Check this out, then,' said Trev, stung. He activated his weapons and flowed through a succession of moves, spinning and flipping the two swords. Miss Pine watched him impassively. 'Does that reassure you?' he said when he'd finished.

  'Well your baton-twirling skills are second to none,' she replied. 'If I was auditioning majorettes for a marching band, your name would be at the top of my list.'

  Trev gritted his teeth. 'Any chance of a straight answer? Or are you just going to take the piss out of me all evening?'

  'Men and their easily-bruised egos,' said Miss Pine with a condescending expression. She turned to her companions. 'What do you think, Alice?'

  'I think he's an idiot, Louise,' the large woman replied. 'But if he's going to give Corbyn a thrashing, he gets my vote.'

  'Supportive, yet insulting,' said Trev. 'Nice.'

  Miss Pine looked to the skinny girl, who was sat with her hands in her lap. 'Steph?'

  'For Vicki,' the girl whispered, not lifting her gaze.

  Miss Pine nodded acknowledgement and gave Steph's shoulder a squeeze. That done, she faced Trev.

  'All right,' she said. 'But if Corbyn kills us both, I reserve the right to say "I told you so".'

  Thirty-Five

  Trev arranged to meet Miss Pine the following evening. He suspected that Granddad would've wanted to go after Corbyn the same night if possible, but Miss Pine didn't want to cut her meeting short. She felt it was unfair to leave before all the members of the group had had their chance to speak. Plus Alice had made a Dundee cake and some orange squash for refreshments, which she didn't want to go to waste.

  Trev was secretly pleased. He was tired. It was only when he'd left the church hall and trudged back to the road that he realised just how tired he was. It went past the kind of physical tiredness he was used to, although he could certainly feel the effects of the day's exertions in his muscles. There was something beyond that, something deeper. He felt diminished, as if he'd lost a sizeable chunk of himself somewhere along the line. A quick check confirmed that he hadn't left a limb lying around without realising it or anything, which meant he would have to look at the supernatural side of things for an explanation.

  He phoned for a taxi, then called Granddad's mobile.

  'Hello again, Trevor. Did you have any luck with the werewolves?'

  'Luck didn't come into it,' lied Trev. 'Miss Pine's agreed to help me find Corbyn tomorrow night. I tried to persu
ade her to make it tonight, but they were having a meeting.'

  'Ah yes, their meetings are very important to them,' said Granddad. He sighed. 'It can't be helped, I suppose. How did you get on with Louise?'

  'We really hit it off,' said Trev. 'I'll be honest – I think she likes me, if you know what I mean.'

  There was no reply for a moment, then Granddad said: 'There was some sort of incident, wasn't there? I can always tell when you're trying to hide something from me by failing to be funny.'

  'Ouch,' said Trev. He cleared his throat. 'Well, "incident" is maybe a too strong a word. Just a little, um, misunderstanding. One of them got the wrong end of the stick about me and tried to chew my head off, but once we got past that it was fine.'

  'Good lord, you're serious, aren't you?'

  'Yep, 'fraid so. But like I said, we sorted it out before it got messy.' Trev stifled a yawn. 'I'm hanging out of my arse now though. Is meeting all these supernatural crazies always this tiring?'

  'You're not used to tapping into your power, Trevor, that's what's wearing you out. Be careful how much you use The Twins. They're powerful weapons, and the drain on their wielder reflects that.'

  'How long does it take to recover the lost energy?' asked Trev. 'Agatha said something about having to, you know, recharge after she clobbered that Shade the other night, but she didn't say how long it took.'

  'It depends how much energy the individual has to tap into in the first place and how much of it has been used,' Granddad replied. 'You've got more in the tank than most, so I'd expect you to be feeling much better after a solid night's sleep.'

  'I'll bloody sleep for a week after this,' said Trev. 'I've got a cab coming to pick me up, so unless you need me I'm heading home for something to eat and an earlyish night. Are you still at the KolleyCo offices?'