Shrill Dusk (City of Magic Book 1)

by Helen Harper

  ‘In return,’ Monroe continued, ‘if I win, you’ll agree to follow my lead. In everything, not just in name. I’m far better suited to dealing with situations like this than you’ll ever be.’

  ‘How many apocalypses have you dealt with then?’

  He rolled his eyes.

  The man with the shotgun reached us. ‘You here for the supply drop?’ he asked gruffly.

  We both nodded. ‘Why are you still here?’ I said. ‘Why haven’t you evacuated?’

  ‘I’m no coward. No freaky shit is going to force me out of my home.’ He waved the gun and my stomach tightened. ‘’Sides, I’m prepared for anything.’

  ‘Indeed,’ I murmured. I gestured ahead. ‘After you.’

  The man jumped over the turnstile and was quickly swallowed up by the tunnel ahead. ‘You shouldn’t have let him go first,’ Monroe snapped. ‘He might take everything we want.’

  ‘I’m sure there will be enough to go round. Besides, we can be polite. We’re not animals, Monroe,’ I told him. Not yet anyway.

  He laughed shortly. ‘Speak for yourself.’ He turned and leapt neatly over the turnstile, following the man inside the stadium. I sighed, hoping we’d be able to get in and out without too much bother, then I went in after him.

  For a brief moment when I emerged onto the football pitch I forgot about checking how many people were present. Walking out onto the grass at Old Trafford felt almost spiritual. I wasn’t much of a football fan, although I frequently bet on matches. But you didn’t have to be a fan to appreciate walking across such hallowed ground with so many empty plastic seats staring down at you from the tiers above.

  Unfortunately, the gigantic oak tree sprouting from the goal posts at the far end of the pitch, and the massive scorch marks trailing across the arena, somewhat ruined the overall effect. All the same, the experience was incredibly cool.

  Monroe didn’t appear to notice. He was standing a few metres away, his arms folded across his chest and his expression grim. I followed his gaze, watching the people up and down the pitch ripping open the tightly bundled packages.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ I asked innocently. ‘Three hundred or so?’

  He tutted. I punched the air and did a little dance round him. It wasn’t my typical winning behaviour but nothing about today was typical.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You win. Let’s pick up what we can and get out of here.’ He shot me a look. ‘Is your Max here?’

  ‘He’s not my Max. But no.’ I nibbled my bottom lip. Frankly, I’d have preferred it if he were; having Max here would mean that he wasn’t causing problems with Lizzy, Julie and Jodie.

  Given the scuffles that were breaking out over various boxes, Max’s presence wasn’t needed to start a fight. I considered breaking up one of the arguments before it escalated into violence. Before I could make up my mind, the assailants walked away, clutching their supplies to their bodies. There was still enough to go round so disaster had been averted. For now.

  Monroe had been watching the same show play itself out. ‘We need to grab what we can and get out of here.’

  I nodded. In this, at least, he was probably right. I scanned round, spotting several boxes that had tumbled to the side and were currently unattended. ‘There,’ I said. ‘Let’s grab those.’

  We walked over, beating an older woman who was walking with the aid of a cane. She scowled at Monroe as he gave her a pointed look. ‘These are ours,’ he growled.

  The man was an idiot. ‘There’s more than enough for all of us,’ I said. ‘We can easily share.’

  Monroe glared at me. ‘We cannot share. We did not come here to share.’

  ‘There’s plenty! We can split the stuff in half.’

  ‘And give her a lift back home in the process?’ he enquired.

  I tilted up my chin. ‘Good idea. We can put her supplies away for her too. Then we can check up and make sure she’s alright in the future and—’

  ‘I’ve got my bicycle,’ the old woman informed us icily. ‘And I don’t need your help. I shall take this box,’ she said, swiping the nearest one, ‘and leave you two in peace.’ She tucked it under her arm and hobbled off.

  ‘You scared her off!’ I said accusingly.

  ‘You can’t give away our stuff to any random stranger who happens by,’ Monroe said.

  ‘It’s not our stuff. It’s everyone’s stuff. Besides, she’s a little old lady. She might need our help.’

  He gritted his teeth. ‘She chose to stay in Manchester when she could have left. It’s survival of the fittest. This is how Nature intended it to be. If you help every poor soul who comes along, you’ll be dead before the end of the week.’

  ‘At least I won’t be dead inside,’ I sniped, before forgetting that Monroe probably did feel dead inside after what had happened to his pack.

  I hastily regrouped. ‘And I don’t think that Nature ever intended…’ I reached into the nearest box and pulled out a silver package ‘…chicken tikka masala to drop out of the sky. We’ve got plenty of tinned food. We don’t need all of this.’

  ‘This will last longer. All of this has been carefully selected to provide maximum calories to an army on the move and in battle.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been in battle and I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up that way again before too long.’ He pointed at another squabble that had started up. ‘This is what is happening now, when we’re surrounded by supplies and no one is going short. Think about what will happen when supplies start to run out.’

  ‘That’s why we’re here,’ I reminded him. ‘This is my plan, after all.’

  He leaned down towards me, his nostrils flaring. ‘Then stick to the plan and stop giving away our supplies.’ He turned and started scooping up boxes.

  I glared at his back. Infuriating man. This was about far more than survival of the fittest; it was about pulling together as a team and creating a new community of Mancunian survivors. No one was dying yet – in fact no one would die at all, not if I had anything to say about it.

  ‘I know you’re making faces at me,’ Monroe muttered. ‘It’s incredibly childish and a complete waste of energy.’

  ‘I don’t have to make faces at you behind your back,’ I told him. I moved round so I was facing him and stuck my tongue out. Unfortunately that made it rather difficult to speak. ‘I an ake aces ile i am acing oo.’

  He straightened up and gazed at me implacably. ‘Am I supposed to understand what you’re saying?’

  I blew out my cheeks and pulled on my ears. Then, for added effect, I scrunched up my face. The tiniest corner of Monroe’s mouth tugged up. Ah ha! I had him.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘You’re the one who was concerned about time. Stop messing around.’

  I started hopping from foot to foot, still pulling the same face. I’d have continued that way too if I hadn’t slipped on a patch of slimy ash and lost my footing. I landed flat on my back with a surprised oomph. Monroe suddenly laughed. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a slapstick kind of guy, but I guess it takes all sorts.

  He placed his piled-up boxes down on the ground before extending a hand to pull me up. ‘Never let it be said that I’m not a gentleman,’ he murmured in my ear.

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  He smiled, then he inhaled and his expression went curiously blank. ‘You still smell of sunshine,’ he said quietly, before releasing me and returning his attention to the boxes.

  I sucked in a breath and stared at him. Surreptitiously, I sniffed my armpits. As far as I could tell, I smelled like I needed a good hot shower. What the hell did sunshine smell like anyway?

  I shrugged awkwardly. Boxes, Charley, I reminded myself. Focus on the boxes.

  ***

  In the end, we managed to fill most of the Jeep. When we left the football ground, there were still boxes upon boxes remaining. I had the desperate notion that the government really wasn’t planning on any more supply drops, otherwise they wouldn’t have dropped so much this time ar
ound. Of course, if anyone else had spotted Liung flapping around last night, it wasn’t surprising that aircraft wanted to keep a wide berth if they could. Neither would thick swarms of locusts be good for rotating helicopter blades.

  I balanced five of the boxes on my knee, my vision wholly obscured. That was fine until Monroe slammed on the brakes when we’d barely driven fifty metres away from the stadium. ‘What the fuck?’ I spluttered, squashed against the boxes that were now squashed against the windscreen.

  ‘Wait here,’ Monroe said. I heard rather than saw him unclip his seatbelt and climb out of the car.

  I hastily extricated myself and half fell out of the car after him. As soon as I did, I regretted it. We had only made it to the first bridge over the canal; thrashing around in the murky water was some sort of gigantic creature. When I blinked and looked more closely, it appeared to have a human being in its saw-toothed mouth. It was difficult to tell for sure because the monster wouldn’t stay still for more than a heartbeat at a time.

  ‘What the bejesus is that?’ I gasped.

  Monroe, whose body was ramrod straight, gave me an annoyed look. ‘I told you to stay in the Jeep. Come on, we’ve still got things to do. We’re not getting involved in this.’

  Like hell we weren’t. While he marched back and got into the driver’s seat, I turned away and jogged across the bridge, looking for a way to reach the water’s edge. If I really were some kind of enchantress, surely dealing with a slimy monster from the depths of Manchester’s canals would be a piece of cake.

  ‘Goddammit, Charlotte!’ Monroe exploded from behind me.

  I grimaced. I didn’t remember telling him what my full name was. ‘It’s Charley,’ I yelled over my shoulder.

  I picked up my pace and skidded down until water lapped at my toes and the Canal Beast was merely metres away. I hadn’t been wrong: there was definitely some poor, hapless person trapped in its jaws. At that point, it was difficult to tell whether they were still alive or not. I crossed my fingers and prayed for the former.

  I stilled my body, trying to think. When I’d rescued Cath, all I’d had to do was thrust my hands out and that had been enough. Now I held up both hands in the air. They looked normal but they felt … strange. It was as if the magic contained within me was straining to get out. If that were the case, I’d certainly let it. I drew in a deep breath and flicked my wrists.

  I felt it leaving my body. The magic surged from me like some strange, immutable force I was powerless to stop. It pulsated out, hitting the water and causing a sudden wave of tsunami-like proportions to rise up and cascade over the monster. It dropped the human, who crashed to the surface as my magical wave hit the bank on the other side and flooded the road opposite. It also submerged the bridge, the Jeep, Monroe and the other people who’d emerged from the stadium with their supplies and were staring downwards.

  There were several screams and cries, but I didn’t have time to worry about those people. They were simply wet; the guy – or gal – in the water might well be dead. And if they weren’t already, they soon would be.

  The canal subsided into smaller, tumescent waves. There was no sign of the monster but I thought I spotted a body in the bobbing detritus. I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my jacket and T-shirt.

  ‘Charley!’ Monroe yelled. ‘Don’t…’ Whatever he was about to say was swallowed up as I dived in.

  It might have only been September but the water was still an icy shock, penetrating my clothes and making my heart judder. I broke through to the surface, treading water and shaking droplets from my face. I scanned round. There. The person was there.

  I am no Olympic swimmer but I did my best. It helped that there was still a powerful undercurrent from my magical surge pulling me towards the floating body. As soon as I reached him, I hooked my arm round his neck and made sure he was on his back. His lips were blue, and I had no way of knowing whether he was breathing or not.

  I had to get him to shore but the current that had propelled me towards him was now working against me. I kicked my legs as hard as I could, but it felt like I was getting nowhere. Brackish, foul water washed over both our heads and panic wrapped its way around my brain, squeezing tight.

  ‘Come on, Charley,’ I muttered. ‘Come on.’

  Another surge of water heaved over us. My jeans were wet and heavy, pulling at my legs, and it felt like we were sinking. I heard a hoarse shout that sounded like it had come from Monroe but I couldn’t be sure.

  I wasn’t convinced I could make it back to safety without letting go of the man, but there was no way that I was going to leave him here to drown.

  Magic. If I could use magic to push the air away from me, I could use magic to pull me in, like I had with the trolleys earlier. I craned my neck round, catching a glimpse of the bank behind us before my vision blurred. There was a tree there, a thing of monstrous girth and snaking roots. Of course there was.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I envisaged the tree then I imagined an invisible rope connecting my body to it. Straining my mind, I tugged on the rope. Nothing happened. I tugged again, feeling something uncoil inside me. It was going to work. I knew it.

  Then an arm went around me.

  ‘Foolish woman,’ Monroe hissed in my ear. He yanked me backwards while I pulled the dead weight of the man. A moment later, we were all back on dry ground.

  I gasped, wheezed and wiped my eyes with the back of hand. I crawled to the man and tilted his head back to begin chest compressions. My lungs hurt, however, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the breath or the energy to revive him. I blinked away hot tears. Monroe pushed me out of the way.

  I fell backwards, watching him with my heart in my mouth. ‘You can do it,’ I whispered. ‘Breathe. breathe.’

  There was a spluttering wheeze before a considerable amount of water dribbled out of the man’s mouth. Relief washed over me. He was going to be alright. He was going to make it. He was…

  Something wrapped round my stomach and squeezed it tightly. I just had time to glance down and see the slimy tentacle with its massive suckers before I was hauled off my feet back into the water. Shit.

  I writhed and fought, pushing against the monster’s grip, doing everything I could to wiggle free. Its suckers were too powerful; however much I pushed and shoved, I couldn’t budge them. I raised my hands to try a burst of uncontrolled magic but, before I could, I was submerged back into the murky canal.

  I swallowed several mouthfuls of water. The tentacle lifted me upwards again, allowing me to heave in some much-needed oxygen, but my relief was short-lived. The creature transferred me from its snaking arm to its massive mouth. Sharp teeth pinched my torso. The worst thing was that I knew it wasn’t even biting down hard, not yet anyway. This bastard was enjoying playing with its food.

  Unwilling to wriggle too much and end up completely skewered, I forced myself to fall limp. Playing dead was the best strategy I could think of. It worked for possums; there was no reason why it couldn’t work for me, at least temporarily.

  I racked my brains for a sensible way out. There had to be some way to get the monster to release me.

  I squinted to my left and spotted the bridge up ahead while the slimy fucker tossed its head from side to side in predatorial triumph. Monroe was busy – or so I hoped – getting the poor victim on the bank to breathe. But there were other ways to encourage the beast to move to where I wanted. Whatever this thing was, it was new to the area. I had to gamble that it hadn’t yet learnt that cars weren’t for munching on.

  I’d almost managed it with the tree; if Monroe hadn’t interrupted, I might have succeeded. All I had to do was replicate the same manoeuvre – sort of – with the barely visible Jeep that was sitting on the bridge above us. I could the see the top of its roof from over the barrier.

  This would work, I decided. This would definitely work.

  Closing one eye, because for some reason that seemed to make sense, I honed in on the Jeep and willed it to move. Something tugge
d deep in my stomach and I thought I had it for sure – but then the bastard slime monster from the deep decided to toss me up in the air and catch me again in its foul mouth. It had rotten table manners and quite possibly the worst case of halitosis I’d ever come across. Bad breath appeared to be a common trait amongst magical beasts.

  I shook myself. Focus. I had to focus.

  I turned my head. The monster was positioned at a different angle, meaning that I was too. The Jeep had vanished from my vision, obscured by the barriers on the bridge. I hissed under my breath, causing the creature to tighten its grip on me as it realised I wasn’t dead after all.

  Deciding it hadn’t entirely finished with its fun, it threw me up in the air again. I spun, my limbs flailing as I sought to regain control. As I reached the apex of my unwilling journey upwards, I threw myself left. There: now I had a perfect view of the Jeep.

  Using every atom of energy I had left, I threw it at the vehicle. I couldn’t see whether my ploy had worked – I was already too far on my descent to manage that – but I heard the sound of crunching metal. Hopefully, the Jeep had smashed into the barrier.

  When I crashed down into water instead of a stinky mouth, I knew I’d achieved my goal. The monster was going for the Jeep as a far larger and, theoretically, more satisfying snack. It wouldn’t be long before it realised otherwise. I had to move.

  I ducked under the water, trying to conceal myself in case it made a snap decision to return for me, then I kicked with all my might. I had to reach the safety of the shore. Failure wasn’t an option. I ignored the mulch and branches and slimy gloop that kept attaching themselves to my body and swam.

  Suddenly strong arms were pulling me out. Monroe dragged me to the side, far away from the edge of the bank. He glared down at me furiously.

  ‘Did he make it?’ I gasped.

  ‘You fucking idiot.’

  I clutched at his arm. ‘Did the man make it, Monroe?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘He’s fine. You, however, almost killed yourself.’