by Helen Harper
He folded his arms but thankfully he refrained from saying anything else.
Finally. ‘Much appreciated,’ I said. ‘Now, here’s the plan.’
Chapter Fourteen
If circumstances had been different, I’d have divided us up in a different way. I worried about sending Jodie and Lizzy out with Julie, and I wasn’t happy leaving Cath on her own at home. However, Monroe had been huddled as a wolf in the corner of one of the spare bedrooms less than an hour ago and his ongoing grief made him unpredictable, so it made sense to keep him with me. Cath’s vulnerability – and her recent past with Max that she still wouldn’t talk about – meant it was safer for her to stay put, despite her protests to the contrary. And I couldn’t leave anyone alone with Julie. At least Jodie and Lizzy together would have a better chance if the vampire turned rogue.
Even so, I felt nervous when the three women turned left and jogged down the street to look for a suitable vehicle and Monroe and I turned right. I had covered most eventualities, but I still had the queasy sensation that I was sending my friends, old and new, into serious danger. I wasn’t going to admit that to Monroe, though.
We jogged in silence, each of us scanning our own side of the street for any vehicle that might be suitable. Unfortunately, in this part of Manchester the majority of the cars tended to be large, glamorous penis extensions rather than ones that would help us navigate torn-up streets. It was only when I spotted an old Jeep with a handy trailer attached parked in front of an evacuee’s abandoned house that we hit pay dirt.
Monroe broke into the house, using his elbow to smash a pane of glass. The departed owners had a white box installed outside their front door, indicating the presence of a burglar alarm. Either it was wired to the mains, and therefore no longer working, or it was for show because he emerged less than a minute later without setting off any ear-piercing screeching. He was also dangling the Jeep’s keys in his fingers.
‘Sorted,’ he said with a satisfied grin. ‘I am driving.’ He paused as if waiting for me to argue. I shrugged. If that was what it took to stop him complaining at every turn, it was fine with me.
He unlocked the Jeep and we both clambered in. I was very relieved when the rust-bucket actually started. ‘Down to the end of the street and turn right,’ I told him.
He grunted in assent and started driving, veering round a section of massive tree roots that had upturned most of the pavement and half of the road. ‘Now we’re on our way,’ he said, securing his seatbelt, ‘you have some questions to answer.’
I had a feeling I knew what he was going to ask, but I waited for him to proceed. Monroe had lost control of every facet of his life; he needed to feel like he was in charge in order to be comfortable. Besides, it would give him something to focus on other than his grief.
‘First of all, what did Jodie mean when she said you were an enchantress?’
So far, so expected. I had no reason to hide what had happened. ‘The magical doodah thing that Madrona planted on me,’ I said. ‘I fell asleep with it. Now I can do … stuff.’
‘What stuff?’
I gestured helplessly. ‘Magic stuff.’ I told him about the way I’d bowled over Max and his henchmen. ‘I feel different too,’ I said. ‘Like there’s an odd buzzing itch running underneath my skin.’ If I concentrated, I could also see an odd blue aura clinging to Monroe. I saw the same with Julie and with Lizzy. It was magic. I just knew it. They had it – and now I did too.
‘And you think it was the sphere that caused this?’
‘Unless you have any better ideas. I’m no werewolf.’
Monroe snorted. ‘I know that,’ he said derisively.
I drummed my fingers on the dashboard. ‘My turn to ask a question. You were half dead when I left for Castlefield. How did you recover so quickly?’
‘Shifting,’ he answered. ‘It helps speed up the healing process.’
‘So you don’t have to wait for the full moon or anything?’
He rolled his eyes.
‘What?’ I tutted. ‘It’s a reasonable question.’
‘It’s a stupid question. Only adolescents require the moon to shapeshift. The rest of us can do it at will.’
At my direction he turned left. ‘Who is Max?’ he asked.
‘A nasty bastard. He has his fingers in a lot of pies and he likes nothing better than to intimidate people. I spend a lot of time gambling and he’s one of the more infamous members of the underground scene. He doesn’t bet much himself, but he takes on others’ debts and terrifies them when they can’t pay up immediately. I owe him money.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’ Monroe muttered. ‘Getting into debt with a dangerous loan shark seems like the sort of stupid thing you would do.’
I bristled. ‘First of all, Maximillian Stone is far more than a mere loan shark. Second of all, it’s not my debt. An acquaintance of mine got into trouble and I took on his debts to help him out. He was never going to manage on his own, and Max was quite prepared to hurt him very badly in return.’
‘Are you fucking him?’
I made a face. ‘Max? Eeew. No way. I have standards.’
‘That I very much doubt. But I meant the acquaintance.’
‘No. He’s just someone who needed help.’
Monroe sniffed. ‘Then you’re even more stupid than I thought. Family matters. Blood matters. My pack mattered. Mere acquaintances who can’t look after themselves are not worth risking yourself for.’
My shoulders tightened. ‘Why not?’
‘Because there’s a line. You can’t mess up your own life for the sake of others who are weaker than yourself and who you owe no loyalty to. What did you have to gain from helping this acquaintance, beyond a sense of moral sanctity?’
‘The knowledge that I was doing the right thing,’ I said shortly.
‘The right thing is looking after you and yours.’ A muscle jerked in Monroe’s jaw. ‘Although I can’t seem to manage that either,’ he half spat.
I bit my lip. ‘It’s not your fault that your pack died.’
‘It’s all my fault.’ He lapsed into brooding silence, which wouldn’t help his psyche or my plans.
‘Cath was with Max,’ I said, unwilling to allow Monroe to feel sorry for himself when there were plenty of other things to worry about. ‘You saw the bruise across her face – well, that’s where it came from. Max. He has a bunch of teenagers and henchmen, and he’s running around the city grabbing all the supplies he can.’
Monroe shook himself. ‘So he’s banking on the British government abandoning the city for good. He wants to control the food and water. When he can do that, he can control everything else.’
I wasn’t surprised that Monroe had come to the same conclusion that I had so quickly. ‘That’s what I figure,’ I said. ‘And that’s why we need to act fast. That,’ I added, ‘and the fact that we’re about to be shut off from the world. It might not be for a long time but if it is…’
‘Manchester is doomed,’ he broke in.
I started. ‘That’s a bit extreme.’
He waved a hand and swerved, narrowly avoiding a large crater that had opened in the road. ‘Magic is still here. I can feel it. You can bet your blue hair that the vampire can feel it. All the faeries have gone, and I seriously doubt they’ll come back. Humans don’t know how to cope with the supernatural. They’re a technology-based society. This whole area is about to become like Chernobyl.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Apart from the likes of you and me, that is.’ He shot me a sidelong glance. ‘Because if you really are some sort of enchantress, you belong here now. Not out there in the land of broadband speeds and satellite television.’ He paused. ‘What is this Max?’
‘Human,’ I answered. ‘I think.’
Monroe snorted. ‘Then I’ll track him down and snap his neck. Job done.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘And someone else will take his place. Besides, killing people willy-nilly is wrong.’
‘Willy-nilly? What kind of wo
rd is that? Stop being so prissy.’ He leaned towards me, taking his eyes off the road. ‘The world you knew no longer exists. Get with the programme.’
I reminded myself that he was a man in pain and hurting a wounded animal would be cruel. ‘There will be no killing,’ I said stiffly. ‘Not unless it’s completely warranted.’
‘And,’ Monroe answered softly, ‘you don’t think that purple bruises across a teenage girl’s face warrant it?’
I folded my arms and looked out of the window. ‘It’s not a proportional response.’
‘I haven’t even met this Max and I have his measure. Either stop him now or reap the consequences later.’ His lip curled. ‘But if he’s human, he’s not my concern. There’s no place in this city for the likes of him. Not any more.’
‘You seem very sure about what’s going to happen. This situation is unprecedented. I don’t believe for a second that the British government will simply abandon one of its largest cities because of a few days’ craziness. Give it a couple of weeks and things will go back to normal.’
Monroe slammed on the brakes. I was yanked forward, the seatbelt pressing sharply against my chest. A heartbeat later, a gigantic beast passed in front of us without giving our vehicle, which was tiny in comparison, a second glance. It was more than a pink elephant; it was closer to some kind of mammoth, with lethal-looking tusks and legs as wide as tree trunks. The pink colour didn’t make it less imposing; if anything, it made the beast all the more terrifying.
‘Sure,’ Monroe murmured as it thundered past us. ‘Things are definitely going back to normal any day now.’
My mouth felt painfully dry. I licked my lips and swallowed. ‘That was on television. That – pink thing. If it was the same one, it used to be a hell of a lot smaller.’
‘I told you.’ There was grim satisfaction in his voice. ‘The magic is still here, and you know it. Come midnight tonight, Manchester will be left to us ghouls. The only thing left to expect is the unexpected.’
He changed gears and moved the Jeep forward again. The elephant, if that’s what it was, had vanished again but there were cracks in the tarmac indicating its trail.
I pressed the palms of my hands against my temples. Yeah. Maybe Monroe was right about Manchester’s future.
We continued in silence until we reached a large supermarket on the very fringes of the city. Both of us were absorbed in our own thoughts. It wasn’t until Monroe came to a halt and turned off the engine that he spoke again. ‘One final question before we do this,’ he said.
‘Mmm?’
He was silent for a moment. ‘You said you knew grief. That you understood what it was like to be responsible for the death of another person.’ His voice was almost a whisper. ‘What happened?’
I looked away. Out of the window, the blue hue, which apparently only I could see, was still covering the horizon. ‘My brother,’ I answered eventually. ‘He died and it was my fault. I could have saved him but I didn’t.’ I paused, my voice dropping to a whisper. ‘His name was Joshua.’
The old, familiar pain wrenched deep within my heart. Monroe reached over and took my hand, squeezing it tightly. For a few seconds we sat there in silence, lost in the swirl of our own hurt.
Finally he released his grip. ‘Let’s get a move on.’
***
The plan was simple. There were too few of us to make much of a dent in the vast supplies that lay in the supermarkets and shops across the city. Even if we’d had the wherewithal to transport what we might need for the weeks, months and possibly years ahead, we had nowhere to store it. Neither could we deny the other brave souls who remained in Manchester the chance to get hold of their own rations.
So, for the time being we were going to be like squirrels. We’d create our own special stashes, locking away as much as we could so that the likes of Max couldn’t get their grubby mitts on it. We wouldn’t be greedy; this was about survival more than anything else.
By starting at the outskirts of the city and working inwards, we’d be able to create drop points that could be used in the future. We couldn’t count on every stash surviving or the situation returning to some kind of normality, not if Monroe was right and Manchester was going to become the lost city of England with no more of a future than Chernobyl.
We worked quickly and quietly. We hadn’t chosen this supermarket at random; it was first on the list for one reason only – its location. It was the furthest away from home, we were working our way back inwards, and it was right next to a large removal company. We’d never manage to drive a lorry through the streets of Manchester, not now, but we could drive one a short distance from the removal company. Then we could fill it up with what we needed, lock it securely and leave it in a quiet spot where it would hopefully remain undisturbed until we needed what was inside.
In less than forty minutes, we’d done that. I pretended not to notice Monroe grabbing a bottle of whisky as we moved to the next location, though he didn’t exactly try to hide it. He alternated veering round massive tree roots and smaller sinkholes with swigging at the bottle.
We weren’t the only ones on the streets. Some people skulked round corners, skittering away when they heard us coming. Others were carrying boxes of supplies, returning to their own hidey-holes wherever they might be. We also passed several vehicles making a beeline for the edge of the city filled with people who had clung on until the last minute before deciding to leave. I gestured calmly at each person we saw, a shared acknowledgment of our predicament. Monroe grunted at them.
In one of the supermarkets we almost collided with a group of people throwing tins and bottles into trolleys. Fortunately, they weren’t like Max. We nodded at each other and went our separate ways.
I was snapping a padlock on to a gardener’s shed in the city allotment next to our third darkened shop, while Monroe retrieved the Jeep, when loud plane engines roared overhead. I darted into the car park, my eyes tracking the sky. I could see three separate aircraft, each flying low to the ground. These were not passenger jets or stealth fighters. I nodded to myself, grimly satisfied.
A moment later, Monroe joined me. ‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured. ‘They’re keeping their promise.’
As we watched, large white bundles started to fall out of the planes. I shielded my eyes against the blue-tinged sun and watched the packages descend.
‘North-east,’ Monroe said. ‘And west. Several of the others are heading south.’
I swivelled, keeping my eyes trained on the south as those air drops seemed to be closest to our location. ‘Old Trafford,’ I told him. ‘It’s got to be.’
‘The football ground?’
I nodded.
‘How long will it take us to reach it?’
‘From here?’ I pursed my lips. ‘Maybe twenty minutes. It’s a good location for a drop – but we certainly won’t be the only ones there.’
We exchanged glances. Our plan was that, in the event that the army did indeed drop emergency supplies, we would only go and retrieve them if they were close by and we had a good chance of getting them. The army supplies would be high in nutritional content and would contain other necessities that might take us more time to find, such as water purification tablets and the like. We knew we were likely to have competition in getting them; we also knew that it was likely there wouldn’t be any more supply drops in the near future.
We’d chosen to stay behind despite all advice to the contrary; sooner or later the government would decide that we had to look out for ourselves. It wasn’t cynicism; it was simply being realistic. With all the evacuees outside the city, thousands of others needed help more than we did. Our experiences were probably calm compared to what was happening in the temporary camps and shelters that had been set up outside Manchester.
‘It’s worth it,’ we said simultaneously.
‘Jinx,’ I mumbled.
Monroe flashed me a sudden unexpected smile. It was the first one I’d seen from him since he’d shown up at my do
or with Madrona. That seemed an eternity ago. I smiled back at him, then we took off, running towards the Jeep and flinging ourselves inside.
With Monroe’s foot flat on the pedal, it was a far bumpier ride than before. I was forced to grip the door handle to avoid crashing into him every time we swerved round a corner. I didn’t complain; we wouldn’t be the only ones who’d seen the planes. Far from it. We had to get our arses in gear.
Grudgingly I admitted that Monroe was a good driver. We made it over the canal to the gates of the famous football ground in fifteen minutes flat. Now the fun would really begin.
Chapter Fifteen
We jogged up to the nearest turnstile leading into the stadium. ‘Twenty people, tops,’ Monroe said. ‘The humans will still be too afraid to come out in case more magic shit occurs.’
I shook my head. ‘There will be far more than that. The sort of people who’ve stayed behind can handle risk. There will be at least a couple of hundred. Lots will have seen the air drop and they’ll be heading here.’
As I spoke, another vehicle pulled up behind us. Monroe and I turned and watched as a thin man clambered out. Nerve-wrackingly, he was holding a shotgun tightly in both hands but when he spotted us he offered a small smile, rather than blasting away at us. That was good. Every day I didn’t get shot in the arse was good.
‘Fifty people, then. I bet there won’t be more,’ Monroe said.
It was like a balm to my ears. ‘I’ll take that bet.’ I mulled over appropriate terms. ‘If I win, you’ll teach me how to fight. I have a feeling there are gaps in my knowledge that could do with filling.’ It would keep his mind off his grief – and I’d seen him fight. I reckoned that, even without his wolf form, he could show me a lot.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one. ‘Done,’ he said, snapping his fingers. ‘You are a cleaner, after all. There’s a world of things you won’t know.’
He seemed to think I was an inferior being because of my day job. I didn’t rise to the bait; I’d heard it all before, and I wasn’t as sensitive – or as stupid – as he seemed to think.