Shrill Dusk (City of Magic Book 1)

by Helen Harper

  Even with my stern instruction, he seemed unable to prise his fingers away and drop. He was virtually frozen to the post itself – no mean feat, given its slender, smooth nature and the fact that he was several feet up it. I supposed that near-death experiences encouraged physical feats of all sorts, then I quashed that thought before it destroyed my psyche.

  ‘You…’ I began, as a sudden vicious gust of wind sprang out of nowhere followed by shouts from the police station behind me.

  As if someone had flicked on a switch, the bleak sky lightened and the sun poked through. There was a tremendous screech, as if all the rats had joined in deafening chorus. Like magic, the brown mass seemed to dissipate, the creatures disappearing into drains and holes and into side streets. In moments there were only a few left. Perhaps these leftovers were less geographically inclined rodents because they clawed at the ground, as if confused by their cronies’ vanishing act.

  A moment later, a crowd of police officers came running out waving sticks and chairs and bellowing at the remaining rats until they also scattered back to whichever hole they’d sprung from.

  The boy still didn’t move.

  ‘You can definitely come down now,’ I said drily. ‘There’s not an animal in sight.’

  He blinked rapidly and dropped, landing in a crouch. He stood up and brushed himself off, looking round as if embarrassed to have been so frightened.

  I pointed at the various members of Manchester’s finest, who were scowling up and down the street. Maybe they thought evil looks would be enough to stave off another storm of vermin. ‘They wouldn’t even leave the building,’ I said softly. ‘You did well to shimmy up that lamppost and keep yourself safe.’

  The boy ran a shaky hand through his hair and nodded, although I wasn’t sure he’d heard what I’d said.

  DI Mulroney, one of the older policemen, shambled over and clapped an arm round his shoulder. ‘Come on, laddie,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you inside and make you a good cup of tea, shall we?’ He threw me a meaningful look to suggest that I should join them, to what end I wasn’t entirely sure. I was hardly the only witness to the strangeness that had just occurred.

  As Mulroney and the kid vanished back into the station, Anna Jones strode up to me. ‘Can you explain any of that?’ she enquired. She looked as shaken as I felt but she was certainly putting a brave face on it, her mouth in a tight smile and her hair as perfectly coiffed as usual.

  I breathed out and looked round. Several of the cars around us had been all but stripped of their paintwork and a heavy, sulphurous reek clung to the air. ‘Some sort of natural phenomenon,’ I guessed. ‘An earthquake that caused all the rats in the sewers to swarm up – although that smell suggests volcanic activity.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Since when has there been a volcano underneath Britain? Besides,’ she continued, ‘that’s not what I meant. Can you explain why those … things wouldn’t go near you? It was as if you had some sort of force field holding them at bay. They weren’t acting like that around anyone else.’

  I sucked on my bottom lip for a moment before answering. ‘Residue cleaning chemicals, maybe? Frankly, Anna, I don’t have a scooby.’ I glanced at her. ‘You said there had been some sort of gang activity out here before it began. What was that about? Could it have been related in some way?’

  She snorted. ‘You mean have the locals found a way to harness the power of Mother Earth to attack us before we interfere in their business? I doubt it. They were as terrified as anyone else. They all scarpered before things got too bad. Although…’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘What?’ I prompted.

  She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’

  From the expression on her face, it didn’t look like nothing. Before I could prompt her to say more, another policewoman who I vaguely recognised came over. ‘There are problems over by the Arndale Centre and the paramedics and hospitals are already stretched dealing with rat bites and scratches. Nine-nine-nine calls are coming in all over place. We need to get over there and administer first aid.’

  Anna straightened her back and nodded, her professional demeanour shutting down whatever thoughts she might have been about to spill. Say what you like about her, when it came to her job she always did her best and gave her most. Not all of her colleagues were like that; I reckoned that to several of them dedication was some terrible disease that afflicted only the insane.

  Anna gave me a perfunctory nod and walked away briskly. I watched her go before setting off in the opposite direction. There didn’t appear to be any point in hanging around here. What had happened might have been one of the strangest moments of my life but all I could do was hope that it had been a freak occurrence.

  In any given scenario there are always anomalies that might cause a gambler to win – or lose – big. No doubt what had occurred was one such scenario and there was a perfectly sensible scientific explanation. Anything else simply wasn’t possible.

  Chapter Three

  I was bone-tired by the time I got home. All public transport appeared to have been shut down. I would have sprung for a taxi or an Uber but there were none to be had for love or money. Given I had more love than money to dole out, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. All the same, I was so weary by the time I dragged myself through the front door that I could barely lift my feet.

  ‘Charley!’ Lizzy, my Australian housemate ran towards me before I could even close the door. ‘Are you alright? I’ve been watching the news. It’s bloody madness out there! Did you see what was going on?’

  I gave her a tired nod. ‘Most of it.’

  She wagged a finger in front of my face. ‘I told you – it’s climate change. We’ve spent generations messing up this planet and now it’s fighting back. This is the beginning of the end.’

  Lizzy always had a penchant for the melodramatic. She reminded me of a character out of a soap like Neighbours or Prisoner Cell Block H – and not because she was Australian. Her sense of drama and her grand proclamations often seemed as if they should be accompanied by a drum roll or thudding suspense music. Not that I could explain what in hell had happened either. For all I knew, it was a result of climate change.

  I yawned loudly, which had nothing to do with her questions or my rat-infested worries and everything to do with the fact that I hadn’t slept for almost forty hours.

  Lizzy peered at me. ‘You didn’t come home last night. Did you get lucky?’

  Her idea of lucky had nothing to do with gambling and it was pointless reminding her that luck only existed where preparation met opportunity; it wasn’t the result of some charm or aura over which I had no control. I’d been through this many times, but most normal people don’t get it. Hell, most gamblers don’t get it either.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘And before you ask, I didn’t get lucky in any sense of the word.’

  ‘Ah.’ She appeared deflated, her mouth turning down at the edges. Then she immediately brightened. ‘Don’t worry about it, mate. Chris is here to see you. I’m sure he’ll be able to scratch that particular itch.’

  I grimaced. ‘We don’t have that kind of relationship. As you well know.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s the end of the world, Charley. You don’t have time to be picky.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘The end of the world seems like the best time to be picky. Besides, everything seems fine now. I walked all the way home and I didn’t see a thing.’

  ‘You’ve not been seeing what we’ve been seeing,’ she said darkly, propelling me towards the large living room. I sent a longing glance at the staircase that led up to my bedroom and my comfy bed and let her lead me through.

  Christopher was slumped in a deckchair, staring at the old television set. Although the house itself was grand the furniture, alas, was not. I’d won the place in a poker match a couple of years earlier and somehow hadn’t yet managed to gain the funds to furnish it properly. There were too many plumbing and heating disasters to sort out first, not to mention the need to
afford to eat from time to time. It didn’t bother me much; I loved the place with its cobwebbed corners and large, empty spaces. And deckchairs can be very comfortable.

  ‘They keep playing the same footage over and over again,’ Christopher said, waving a hand at the television.

  I glanced at it, noting the sea of running rats, and winced. ‘How are you doing?’ I asked Christopher.

  He swivelled his head round and jumped up. ‘Charley!’ he exclaimed. It was rather nice to be greeted with such repeated enthusiasm. ‘Are you okay? Did you get caught up in all that craziness?’

  ‘I’m fine. But yes, I saw some of it. Dark skies, funny smells. Lots of rats.’

  ‘Pink elephant.’

  I started. ‘Pardon?’

  He pointed over at the screen again. ‘There.’

  I followed his finger. There was indeed camera footage of a pink elephant bursting through the window of a terraced house. Rats were one thing; that was something else altogether.

  My jaw worked uselessly for a moment before I found my voice. ‘Did it escape from the zoo?’

  He shrugged, although there was a manic gleam in his eyes that had me worried. ‘No one is saying. None of this is happening anywhere else, though. It’s Manchester.’

  I couldn’t decide whether that was very good or very bad. Scratching my head, I sighed. ‘The world’s gone crazy.’ There wasn’t really much else to say.

  ‘Told ya,’ Lizzy said. ‘It’s the apocalypse.’

  ‘Well,’ Christopher demurred, ‘at least we won’t have to worry about paying Max back if it is.’

  I liked the way he always looked on the bright side; there is a lot to commend about shining optimism. He was a man after my own heart. Perhaps I should take Lizzy’s advice and consider him for a role other than that of friend in need.

  I grinned at him. He shifted uncomfortably and started to twiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt, unfastening it and fastening it over and over again. ‘Max came to see me.’

  Sudden anger zipped through me. So that was the real reason Christopher was here. I should have guessed. ‘He had no right to do that. I’ve taken on your debt.’ I grimaced. When Max had realised he couldn’t intimidate me, he would naturally have transferred his attentions to Christopher. For Max it wasn’t about the money, any more than it was for the likes of Valerie. In Max’s case, he enjoyed holding others’ debts because of the feeling of power it gave him. At heart he was nothing more than a schoolyard bully, albeit a schoolyard bully with the potential to do some serious, even life-threatening, damage.

  ‘I’m taking care of it,’ I said. ‘If he comes to you again, tell him he has to deal with me.’

  Christopher didn’t look up. ‘He might hurt you,’ he mumbled.

  ‘That’s my problem, not yours. Besides, I have a plan,’ I lied. ‘I’ll get the money he wants in a day or two.’ I smiled, projecting more confidence than I felt. ‘I’m that sort of gambler.’

  Christopher’s body sagged unhappily. ‘I don’t know why you’re helping me.’ He squinted up at me, afraid to meet my gaze full on.

  ‘I’m helping you,’ I said, ‘because wankers like Maximillian Stone don’t get to win.’ That was partly true. I generally tried not to examine my actions too closely because that way led to madness – and a spiralling pit of despair. I was good at locking away the darker parts of me. If I hadn’t been, I’d never have coped.

  Stifling another yawn, I stretched. ‘Please don’t think I’m being rude but I really have to go and get some sleep before my legs give out from underneath me. Christopher, you’re welcome to stay here if you don’t feel safe going home but there aren’t any spare beds. But I’m pretty certain Slimeball Max doesn’t know where I live so you’ll probably be safe from his attention.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m going to crash at my brother’s.’ He flushed. ‘And thank you, Charley. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  I offered him a small smile. ‘I’m here to help. Max will be nothing but a bad memory by the end of the week.’ Maybe.

  I shuffled over to the door. Sleep most definitely beckoned.

  ‘Rest up,’ Lizzy nodded, although she was obviously distracted. ‘Shall we wake you if the world ends?’

  I wrinkled my nose and considered. ‘Nah. If the end of the world means more rats, I’m happy for it to go ahead without me.’ I gestured at the TV screen. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to catch the highlights later.’ And then, without another thought, I headed upstairs to bed.

  ***

  To begin with, it was really nothing more than a jiggle. Alright, it was a jiggle that roused me from my slumber but it didn’t seem to be anything to worry about. I assumed that Lizzy had lost her keys again, or had found someone of her own to get lucky with and the house was shaking to the beat of their … good fortune. But when my bed began to shake violently from side to side, to the point where the heavy mahogany timber moved six inches across the bare floor, I opened my eyes and frowned.

  Earthquake. An honest-to-goodness earthquake. Yes, yes, you’ll know that they’re not unheard of in this part of the world, but they are still extraordinarily rare. And the most damage they cause is usually a few fallen roof tiles.

  My tired brain strained, trying desperately to remember what you were supposed to do in such a situation. Stay away from the sea in case there was a tsunami. I didn’t think I had anything to worry about on that front. Stay out of lifts even if they contained swoon-worthy fire fighters. Gotcha. Avoid running outside in a panic where the threat of shards of falling glass from nearby windows could be greater than that of buildings collapsing on your head. Okay…

  When the walls around me seemed to groan louder than even my most desperate hunger pangs, the thought of a potential building collapse truly sank in. I sprang up. Load-bearing wall, that was what I needed.

  It was all very well knowing that I was supposed to find a load-bearing wall but quite another identifying which wall that might be. By the time I was halfway towards making an educated guess, the tremors seemed to have stopped. The house creaked once or twice in final protest and seemed to sag back on itself. Thankfully it appeared that the danger was over.

  I shook myself, belatedly realising that I’d collapsed into bed without so much as undressing. I unhooked my cleaning apron from my shoulders and balled it up, tossing it haphazardly onto the bed. I swivelled round to call out for Lizzy and make sure she was alright. As I did so, a dim orange glow from the gap in the moth-eaten curtains caught my eye. For a moment I thought that it was from one of the street lamps – until it occurred to me that it was still daylight.

  Trepidation shivered down my spine as I tiptoed forward, ignoring the creaky floorboards. I drew one of the curtains back and peered out then immediately wished I hadn’t. The sky itself was on fire. If you want to know what genuine terror feels like, imagine seeing what I was seeing. The end was truly nigh.

  Instantly forgetting every logical thought I’d had about earthquake safety, I sprinted for the door and pelted down the stairs. ‘Lizzy!’ I shrieked. I careened round the corner and into the living room but there was no sign of her or Christopher. ‘Lizzy!’ I tried again.

  ‘Over here, Charley. Oh my God. Are you seeing this?’

  I followed the sound of her voice. She was standing on the threshold of the house and staring out of the front door.

  I ran up and yanked her backwards. ‘Don’t stand so close! It’s dangerous!’ I could feel my heart thudding against my ribcage. Fire was the one thing that absolutely terrified me. You wouldn’t need to be a genius to work out why. Poetic justice, I thought dully. Maybe I deserved this.

  ‘It’s not coming near the house,’ Lizzy said. ‘We’re alright.’

  The sky was ablaze. How on earth could we possibly be alright? Then I looked out and realised what she had meant; it wasn’t so much that the sky was on fire but that it was raining fire. Great globules of flame were pelting down from above. I coul
d see scorch marks all over the place although none of them were near us. There was radius around the house of a good five metres that was entirely clear of the fiery deluge.

  Swallowing my rising nausea, I stepped outside. I could hear screams from up and down the street, as well as further away.

  ‘Bloody hell, Charley! At least I didn’t go outside! Get back in here!’ Lizzy shouted.

  I waved to her, indicating that I wasn’t going to venture far. I took another step. The fire might not be falling anywhere near me but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel its heat. What possible scientific explanation was there for this? Lizzy was right – this really was the end of the world.

  Using my hand to shield my eyes, I scanned upwards. The clouds, of which there were many, were blood red. My chest tightened. For the first time in a long time, I was fresh out of ideas of what to do. None of this made any sense.

  I dropped my gaze to check my street, half expecting the four horsemen to come cantering through with cheesy grins of triumph. One of the older houses a hundred metres away was on fire. I started forward, unsure what I could do. Part of me was expecting the fire, like the rats, to avoid me completely; after all, the splats of flame weren’t coming anywhere near my house. I hadn’t gone far, though, when Lizzy screamed and I felt searing heat on my shoulder as a fat glob of fire burned through my T-shirt. I hissed and drew back, frantically patting the spot to put out the tiny flames.

  I spotted various other people who were closer to the burning house emerging with pails of water and hosepipes. I breathed out. My thoughts coalesced into something more coherent and I turned back to Lizzy. ‘That old tray!’ I yelled. ‘The one in the kitchen that you used to sledge down the staircase that time. Get that!’

  Lizzy’s brow furrowed. ‘But…’