by T C Shelley
Hazel, twin-souled again, looked around, her eyes glowed, and then she remembered where she was. She dashed back to the corner.
‘Help me, Sam,’ she yapped.
Sam knew where Hazel was; now he had to find the imp.
Don’t rush, he told himself. Think. His body was all monster, all imp, with enough fairy to confuse everything. But this past day had taught him that fairies, while not precisely bad, were inclined to look after fairies. It would be looking after its own skin.
He flew over Woermann, who paced the corridor, pushing doors open. From the back, the great cat’s hair had thickened and sprouted. He was shirtless now, black fur rippling and shining in the swinging hall light. Woermann was turning into one healthy cat. His ears stretched to inky points, his hands swung at his sides, each great finger ending in a sharp talon. Every time his right arm swung, it brushed over the clutch of keys hanging from his belt. They jangled. He stank of fairy dust.
Woermann seemed less in control than ever.
His ability to speak was disappearing. ‘Imp?’ he called. ‘Moon. Here. Now.’
Sam guessed his meaning. The moon was coming and Woermann needed the imp to help him with something. He was a huge brute and terrifying; the imp was staying out his way. If Woermann had been searching for Sam, he would have avoided him too.
Where hadn’t he looked? The imp wasn’t in the kitchen, not in the bedrooms, not in the drawing room.
He drifted ghostlike through the door and watched Woermann, more were-cat than man, sniffing the air. ‘Imp! Imp!’ the ’thrope called, and then roared. He was using all his animal senses to find Sam’s body, and surely with such strong scenting abilities it could find one stinky monster.
How do you hide smell?
Sam grinned; he knew where the imp was hiding.
He zipped into the pool room and hovered over the water. He’d guessed right, his body had sunk like a stone gargoyle, and like a gargoyle, the imp had no problem with the lack of air. You can’t drown a gargoyle. The little beast sat at the bottom of the pool, legs spread and head hunched, hiding from Woermann as the cat man roared about the house. Sam had seen boggarts and brownies cringe in the same way when Thunderguts had commanded them, and he was their king. The imp didn’t have the same duty to Woermann. It stared around the water, looked at its fingers, counted its toes and blew the occasional bubble.
It looked up at Sam. Its face was so lost and miserable, Sam might have felt sorry for it, if he hadn’t remembered what it had done to Bladder and Hazel.
Outside, Woermann screamed, high and hysterical. ‘Help!’
Sam ploughed head first through the water and into the imp’s body. He had a moment of confusion, floating upside down. He could see through eyes, feel his soul inside himself. His fingers tingled, his toes twitched. A barrage of horrible noises hit his sensitive imp ears, despite being water-muffled.
Woermann’s screams were far worse on his gargoyle ears.
Sam slipped and slid as he moved towards the side of the pool. His limbs were heavy and uncoordinated. A body was a weighty thing. He pushed himself up to grab the ladder, hitting his knuckles on the metal. Pain! Real pain shot up his arm. He hoped he didn’t take long to get used to his body again. When he finally burst free of the surface, his ears filled with the great cat’s roar, and the baying blood barks from a pack of hounds beating against the insides of the truck. He flopped on the edge of the pool, sopping and lumpish.
He needed help. He could let the shifters out, but Woermann was searching for the imp, and likely to stop Sam if he saw him. This was a two-person task. One to release the dogs, one to help Hazel. He needed Bladder.
Sam heard the great beast lope back into the drawing room and collapse on to a sofa. ‘Imp!’ he called.
Sam breathed in. He only had a little time before Woermann’s final transformation.
He raced towards the kitchen, the cellar door a black throat down which he fled.
He fell down the stairs and found Bladder still in four pieces. The break at the neck revealed his dark, hollow stomach.
Empty.
For a moment, Sam worried that Woermann had stolen his friend’s heart, but it glowed next to a blanket. He picked it up in his hand, feeling its comfortable weight. One crack had completely healed, and it warmed his palm.
Heart in, and then pushing. Bladder’s body weighed half a tonne and the winged lion’s head was big. He’d moved Bladder’s head before, and he’d been in a much weaker condition. Also, he’d seen what the imp had done with his muscles. He was stronger than he knew. Still, the lion’s bottom was heavier than his head.
Sam shoved the two pieces together.
Fizz.
‘You treacherous half-born son of a …’
‘Not now, Bladder, listen to me, I need your help to let the shifters out.’
‘Sam? You sound like you. Is that you all in one piece?’ The gargoyle’s face grimaced, then he decided to listen. ‘OK, what can I do?’
‘Let me put your legs on first.’
Shizzle. Hiss.
The gargoyle stretched each limb.
Sam said, ‘Woermann’s turning. You’ve got to let the shifters out of the truck outside and tell them Hazel’s in the ballroom.’
‘The pup? That beast will tear her to pieces. Let me do it, you go get the dogs.’
‘Woermann’s calling for me and he’ll pick up my scent soon. I might be able to use the fact he doesn’t know my soul’s back in my body. And you know I won’t break as easily as you.’ Sam tapped Bladder’s leg.
The lion’s face pulled down in a grimace. ‘Then let me come with you.’
‘We’ll do better if there’s more of us. D.I. Kintamani knows about ’thropes, and he knows ’Thrope Controllers. He may know what we need to do to stop Woermann.’
‘I don’t like this.’
‘No more talking, Bladder. We’re running out of time. He’s getting stronger and stronger. I’ve got no idea how long we’ve got, and the front door won’t hold him when he changes. Let the shifters out, maybe together you can come up with a plan.’
Bladder raced up the steps, his stone mane skimming both sides of the doorway. ‘What are you going to do?’
Sam dashed up behind him. ‘I’ve gotta get Woermann inside the ballroom, so he can’t hurt anyone, and get Hazel out.’
‘That doesn’t sound easy. I’d rather do it for you.’
Woermann’s bellow resumed, he was moving towards the kitchen. ‘Imp. Need help.’
Sam shuddered.
‘Imp!’ Woermann screamed.
Sam raced into the kitchen as Woermann stared into the yard, distracted by the smells from outside. The were-cat peered out the open door and yowled. ‘Imp!’
The truck sat in the yard. The dogs inside had ceased barking.
Woermann inhaled the smell of living animals floating in on the cold air.
‘I’ll get him out of the kitchen,’ Sam whispered to Bladder, then rushed up the stairs. ‘Here I am!’
Woermann, huge and wobbling on his hind legs, turned from the delightful scents coming in the door.
Woermann snarled. ‘Look. For you.’ He panted. ‘Need help.’
‘How can I help?’ Sam said. ‘Don’t you normally do this for yourself?’
‘Hands changed too fast. Fairy dust maybe. Can’t use keys. Get me in room,’ Woermann panted.
Sam rushed forward. Woermann lifted his arms, letting Sam unclip the keys from his belt.
That part was easy, Woermann wanted to give him the keys.
The cat purred.
‘Soon. Must.’ Woermann stopped, sniffed deep, finding the scent coming in the open kitchen door fascinating.
Woermann breathed in the outside world and purred.
It was going to be easy to get Woermann into the room, but he also had to free Hazel. Maybe if the cat was distracted.
Sam looked back at the cellar. Bladder’s grey eyes peered at him from the dark. Sam raced towa
rds the ballroom.
Woermann roared into the dark cool evening.
‘Hazel,’ Sam whispered through the ballroom door, ‘come for the door and turn left immediately.’
Hazel whined from inside, but he heard her pad towards the door.
The first key didn’t fit the lock, nor the second. Sam listened as the dogs rattled inside the truck, baying at the cat’s roar. Woermann, the little bit that was still human, chuckled at the reply.
Third, fourth, fifth key. There were twenty keys on the ring. Which one was it? Sam shook as the sixth key slid inside the lock. It turned.
He gave a silent cheer and opened the door.
Sam looked at Hazel. She peered left and put one paw out into the corridor, then stopped, staring behind Sam. Sam turned to see Woermann filling the corridor and glaring at him.
‘OK, maybe not out. In, Hazel!’ Sam yelled.
Hazel darted back into the ballroom, and Sam stepped inside too, as the cat man hurled four-legged down the corridor towards them.
Sam turned and swung the door.
Woermann’s roar shook the frame. Only the barest patch of skin on his chin suggested any leftover humanity.
Sam pushed the door to a close, but before he heard the lock click, the titanic weight of the cat man bundled into the wood, slammed the door open again then rolled on to the floor.
Sam skidded backwards across the rough wood.
Woermann trained his gaze on Sam and licked the back of his paw, extending his red tongue along to the end of his talons. He caught himself, and growled at Sam. ‘Close door,’ he said, his human voice almost gone.
Sam rushed for Hazel, who cowered in the dark. He had one chance to get her out. The door stood wide open. Before he reached the pup, Woermann leaped between them, swung a lithe paw and Sam flew backwards.
With still enough human in him, Woermann padded towards the door and smashed it shut.
‘Sam?’ Hazel said.
Sam got up, sidling past the cat. It stared at him with hungry golden eyes and sprang into him. The cat’s head collided with Sam and he thumped into the wall, which showered him with plaster.
Sam knew if he’d been truly human or a shifter, he’d have broken his back or his ribs. A gargoyle would have been shattered.
The were-cat padded up to him and pushed its enormous face up to Sam’s. Its sandpaper tongue flicked out and licked his cheek. It stepped back, nose lifting in a sneer. It didn’t like the taste of him. It turned its gaze to Hazel. The pup whimpered.
‘No!’ Sam said.
* * *
As soon as Woermann left the kitchen, Bladder raced for the open door, straight towards the truck.
The shifters barked from the back. Bladder jumped as the headlights went on, the truck driver peered around straight at Bladder sitting on the grass. The man didn’t flinch at all, as if he were used to seeing gargoyles running around. The engine purred awake.
Then Bladder heard a better noise, stone feet pelting along the gravel driveway. Wheedle and Spigot!
‘Hey!’ he yelled.
Wheedle and Spigot came flying at him. ‘You’re safe.’ Wheedle screwed up his eyes and beamed at Bladder.
‘We’ve got to stop that truck and open the back doors.’
‘If you like,’ Wheedle said. The truck reversed jerkily towards the driveway and the gargoyles ducked to avoid flying gravel. ‘Better move quick,’ Wheedle said.
Bladder launched himself at the bonnet and landed with an explosive thud. The shifters inside barked louder. The van continued reversing, but the driver’s mouth hung open. Bladder thought he could fit his whole paw inside it if he tried. Still, the van didn’t slow. ‘Stop, you dusted idiot,’ Bladder yelled.
The driver moved slowly, driving a few more feet before moving his hands to the gears.
The truck stopped.
‘Now, get out,’ Bladder instructed.
The nasty scrape of stone against metal came from the rear of the truck as Wheedle and Spigot undid the doors.
The barks rang out clear through open doors. ‘Bladder?’ someone asked.
‘Wheedle,’ Wheedle replied. Bladder harrumphed. They didn’t look anything alike.
‘Out you come,’ Wheedle said.
Padded paws hit the ground. ‘Everyone OK? Thanks. Thanks.’ Their voices collided with each other.
Bladder looked at the driver. ‘You can go now.’ He jumped off the truck and ran to the back of the truck. ‘Which of you is D.I. Kintamani?’
Sam jumped and climbed the wall as the werecat padded over, interested but calm. It had grown into a huge and glossy blank panther. As Sam clambered higher, it purred and turned its head.
Sam heard Hazel’s sharp gasp from the opposite corner of the room. The panther’s black head lifted, leered at Sam and showed sharp teeth. Drool dripped from its grin and the cat padded towards the noise.
Sam scrambled across the wallpaper. The panther glanced at him a couple of times, but its true focus remained on the exciting noise coming from the corner.
Hazel’s heart banged. She watched Sam scamper across the wallpaper. ‘Help!’
‘Coming!’
Sam jumped between Hazel and Woermann. The cat bared its teeth. It had a lot of teeth. Sam backed towards Hazel.
‘Run to the door, Hazel.’
Her eyes remained wide, fixed on the cat. She hadn’t heard him. The cat pushed back into its haunches and readied itself to spring at Sam. Sam backed against the wall and shifted over, giving Hazel a small corridor to run through. The cat looked at Hazel, licked its lips, but turned to Sam and purred deep in its throat. It was enjoying the game: kill the boy, eat the girl.
It leaped forward and Sam leaped too, grabbing on to the wall. The cat’s head slammed into the plaster where Sam had just been.
That should keep it down, Sam thought.
Sam lowered his foot, and the cat sprang up and purred up at Sam. He was making the hunt too much fun.
Sam raced four-limbed along the longest wall towards the empty fireplace nestled at the end of the room, leaping ahead of the cat’s casual tread.
Hazel dashed along the other wall, towards the door, and the panther swung around, and with one paw hit her like a ping-pong ball across the room.
She huddled for a moment, dazed, but the cat seemed to have decided he wanted to play with the pup again. Her quietness, low breath and shrinking into the shadows gave her no cover. He strolled to where Hazel sat.
‘Come on, Hazel,’ Sam called.
The pup found her legs and skidded past the great cat. Sam expected Woermann to take off after her, but instead he turned with slippery, slow ease, purred again, and padded in the direction Hazel had taken.
Outside the door, dog barks resounded. Hazel barked back, running for the door, knowing there was no point in trying to camouflage herself any more. ‘Help! Help!’
‘Hazel, get to the door,’ Sam called.
‘I’m trying,’ she yapped back.
Hazel turned from the door, towards Sam, with Woermann between them.
Sam dropped to the floor right next to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of soot.
The cat peered at Sam, took a deep, satisfied sniff of him before stepping towards the Kokoni pup.
Hazel took off.
The hunt continued. Although Hazel ran with her haunches rolled forward and her tail between her legs, the great cat trotted after, following her darting with predatory ease. It batted her with a velvety paw, playing, and she rolled into the middle of the room.
The pup sat on the floor dazed for a second before registering the cat padding towards her.
‘Hazel, to me,’ Sam said.
She darted head first, the panther loping behind her, both racing in Sam’s direction. Woermann focused on the juicy pup tearing towards the fireplace. Hazel scooted by Sam.
Woermann ignored him, his large eyes following the pup’s path. His panther feet rumbled the floorboards as he sped up, enjoying a real hun
t.
Sam waited, three steps away, two steps, one, and threw the soot as straight as he could. The black muck hit Woermann in the eyes.
The cat roared.
Sam turned to see Hazel inside the fireplace. A good spot if she only had to worry about Woermann’s head. The cat would never get its huge noggin in the little space, but the panther had deft paws as well, and would be able to flick her out like a juicy nut.
Sam grabbed the pup and tried to run for the door.
The panther continued roaring, his sight gone for a short while but its hearing and smell still good. He backed to the door, putting his large body against the wood. Until he moved, no one was getting out of there.
The door handle jiggled. Someone outside was trying to get in. The panther roared when it heard D.I. Kintamani’s voice. ‘I have turned the key, it won’t open.’
‘Windows,’ yelled Bladder.
Sam wasn’t sure if he could climb one-armed, but he was about to find out.
The shifters’ barks came from outside the house now, as the panther used a paw to rub at its eyes.
Hazel shook in his arms. Her ears pricked, alert, questioning.
Woermann’s frustrated roars vibrated in Sam’s ears.
Sam used his feet to push himself as far up the wall as possible, limping up the wallpaper like a wounded spider.
Halfway up, he allowed himself time to look over his shoulder. Woermann blinked. There was still soot in its eyes, but Sam had no doubt the great cat could see enough. Woermann padded towards them, sniffing the air.
Sam climbed a few more paces. Next to his hand four deep claw marks wounded the plaster. Sam scaled higher.
‘It’s running,’ Hazel said.
‘Hush,’ Sam replied.
The dog stared over his shoulder. ‘Scoop my poop, ya mangy moggy.’
‘Hazel, didn’t I just say hush?’ Sam asked as the cat growled low. ‘Bad dog.’
The half-blinded cat hurled itself against the walls and windows. Glass broke, and Sam heard a security screen rattle near his head. Metal ached against metal as someone forced something into the security screens. Sam ignored it, his hands reaching higher. Hazel flinched.