Cloak (YA Fantasy)

by James Gough

  When the workers cleared, Will gaped at the empty seat where the yak-man had been sitting. At the foot of the chair, the shoeshine boy turned and focused on Will, but he wasn’t a boy at all. A small man with a ferret’s face stared at him from under the shoe-shiner’s hat. Will backed away as the rodent-man moved toward him.

  In a flash, people in hats and hoods turned and began to close in on Will from every direction. A glint of a tusk from under a baseball cap, a glistening black nose surrounded by whiskers hidden by a raincoat—it was like his nightmares had taken shape and were bearing down on him.

  Ducking low, Will used the bustling commuters as cover until he reached the long, narrow hallway that formed Grand Central Market. As he rushed past the counters of eclectic foods, his senses were bombarded with exotic smells and spices that began triggering allergies in rapid-fire succession. His entire body itched, then went numb. He sneezed. Hot flashes flared. His vision blurred. Breathing became labored. Dry-mouth. Light-headedness.

  Will pushed through the allergy war zone until he stumbled out onto Lexington Avenue, and into a downpour. The sidewalk was a stream of black umbrellas.

  He couldn’t see anyone’s face.

  Somebody bumped into him and grunted.

  An umbrella jabbed his shoulder from the other direction.

  Was he still being followed? Had he ever been followed, or was it all in his mind? As Will stood in the rain, one of the umbrellas tipped back and he saw a beak where a mouth should have been.

  A new wave of panic surged.

  He ran.

  After four blocks, his lungs felt ready to explode. Will stopped to grasp his knees. Turning around, he expected to see a mob of half-human creatures on his trail. But nobody was there except a few random pedestrians and a man in a black hooded jacket walking a block behind. Something about him made Will uneasy.

  At 50th Street he turned and headed west. So did the man in the hood. Will zigged and zagged through the streets, and each time the man stayed a block behind.

  As he passed a group of businessmen hiding under umbrellas, Will looked over his shoulder again. The hooded follower was gone. Breathing easier, he slowed his pace. His legs and chest burned. Walking so far so fast was a new experience. It’s hard to stay in shape in a bubble.

  Will splashed across the intersection at 59th and Fifth Avenue and paused under the entrance to Central Park next to a line of wet horses waiting to pull carriages. He looked behind him one more time. The sidewalks were empty.

  Using a dripping latex finger, Will checked his watch—6:08 a.m. His plan had been to tour the city, to see the sights. He had studied the maps and memorized his routes. But now as he stood shivering in the rain, he felt lost.

  The horses whinnied. Someone in a dark trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat had spooked them. Will turned to run, but another figure in a gray cloak blocked his path. Across the street, the man in the black hood was back.

  Will was surrounded, his only escape through Central Park. The storm intensified. He lowered his shoulder against the downpour and sprinted into the empty park.

  In the rain, the leafless trees were ominous talons reaching over the slippery path. Running past the pond, he lost his footing and slid toward the black water. A low branch caught his fall. Trembling with fear, Will moved away from the pond. He had never learned to swim. Water terrified him.

  A twig snapped in the trees.

  Will ran again.

  He passed the ball fields and the deserted ice rink. His clothes were drenched. Icy water seeped into his shoes. Will skirted the carousel, using its eaves as cover. The sidewalk led to a tunnel. His knees buckled. There was no easy way around—a marsh stretched to one side and a rock face to the other.

  Footsteps sounded behind him.

  Holding his breath, he dashed underground.

  In the dark, a homeless woman against the wall shifted in her sleep, nearly giving Will a heart attack. He stumbled toward the light. Four long strides and he was out.

  A new sound caught his attention—traffic. Yes. He could find help. The other side of the park was close, just one more wall of trees near a rocky outcropping, then he’d be on the street. His feet pounded hard, keeping pace with his pulse. Will sped through a stand of trees. A dense canopy of limbs prevented light from reaching the ground. Branches cracked overhead.

  A heavy thump of feet struck pavement.

  The man in the black hood landed in front of Will, his hands splayed on the ground. Instead of fingers, he had black cloven hooves that made a slight clicking sound as he pushed himself upright.

  Will backed away, but the man in the hood was fast. His hooves were around the strap of Will’s backpack before he could take another step. Up close, the stalker’s face was visible in the shadows of his hood. Bristly hair ran up his neck and along his chin where it tufted into a goatee. His nose was flat with wide slits up each side, and his chiseled jaw jutted into a muzzle. Intelligent, wide-set eyes peered out, their blackened pupils slightly horizontal. The guy was a ram! Will saw a horn curving beneath the surface of his hood.

  “Sorry, kid,” the ram-man said in a thick Jersey accent. “I gotta borrow this.”

  In one swift move he swiped Will’s bag and sprinted up the sheer rock face with blazing speed.

  For a second, Will stood frozen in the rain, the lingering smell of wet fur causing his throat to tighten. Even with an allergic reaction constricting his airways, adrenaline shot through his legs. He ran for his life, determined not to stop until he found help.

  From his perch atop the carousel, the ram-man watched the teenager sprint out of the park. He turned his attention to the backpack. As he rummaged through old bottles of pills and a tattered yellow book, his cloven fingers wrapped around a set of dog tags on a chain. He scanned the metal tags and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

  “Bingo.”

  He pulled a box of tooth floss from his pocket and pressed a button hidden on the side, speaking into the waxed strings. “G-man to Cat-nip, come in Cat-nip.”

  “Did you get it?” a smooth, female voice answered in his earpiece.

  “Of course I did.”

  “And?”

  The ram-man leaned close to the floss, the grin now curling across his lips. “Our target’s name is Wilhelm Tuttle.”

  5

  Dangerous Help

  “Help me. Something is after me,” Will pleaded with a woman walking her poodle.

  She eyed his old, muddy clothes and medical mask then hurried away, dragging the dog behind her.

  “Wait,” called Will.

  The woman was the fourth New Yorker to ignore his pleas.

  Across Central Park West, the Museum of Natural History loomed in the downpour. Will crossed the avenue without looking. He paused by the raised statue of Theodore Roosevelt on a horse. Up the front steps near the entrance, a uniformed security guard stood at attention.

  “Help!”

  The rain smothered his voice. Waving his arms, Will mounted the steps, but stopped cold.

  The figure in a trench coat and wide-brimmed hat slid from behind the statue, blocking his path.

  Will fled, his feet carrying him down West 77th. Cab drivers pounded their horns as he sprinted through traffic on Broadway. The streets started to blur. At West End Avenue, the gray-cloaked pursuer was waiting.

  Will ran north.

  The figure followed.

  Two blocks later, the man in wide-brimmed hat forced Will to cross the street.

  Both assailants tailed him down an empty tree-lined street. Will took the sidewalk, keeping the parked cars between him and the threat. Ahead, a large bread truck provided cover. Will barreled past it.

  There was a scream and a collision.

  Will lay on the wet sidewalk, his head throbbing. A tall woman lay next to him, her umbrella and bags scattered across the pavement.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I think so,” she mumbled under the scarf that covered
most of her face.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it was my fault. I was hurrying, late for work. Oh, what a mess.” She tried to stand but winced and collapsed. “Ouch.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Will.

  “My ankle. I think it’s broken.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. I’m a nurse. I work for a group of doctors right there.” She motioned to the closest brownstone.

  “Did you say doctors?” Will felt a twinge of hope.

  The woman nodded and tried to stand again. “Can you help me inside?”

  Will glanced over his shoulder. No sign of his pursuers. “Okay.”

  He gathered her bags and umbrella and helped the woman up. She was taller than he was, but very light on her feet. As she wrapped her arm around him, Will’s heart skipped. He’d never been touched outside the bubble.

  With Will’s help, she limped up the stairs to an oak door with a plaque that read: ‘West Side Pediatrics, Jonathan Beck, M.D., Levi Mendelson, M.D., Katherine Levitt, M.D., Hours Mon-Fri 9:00 a.m – 4:00 p.m.’

  The lock on the door was damaged, the wood splintered around the latch.

  “We had a break in last week,” explained the woman. “It’s being fixed today.”

  The lobby was simple. Leather couches and leafy plants lined the room. Paintings of flowers hung from the warm yellow walls. Will helped the woman to the door next to a glass reception window.

  “Thank you. I think I can manage now. Wait here, I’ll get you a towel.” She disappeared behind the door.

  Wet and shivering, Will stood in the middle of the lobby. Dark rings of moisture formed as his shoes drained onto the rug. He caught his reflection in a large mirror across the room. With his curtain of jet-black hair, gray eyes, and colorless complexion, the image in the glass could have been a black and white photo.

  His face and coat were spattered with mud. With gloved knuckles, Will rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. The chase had exhausted him. His knees were rubber. His lungs throbbed. Looking toward the window, he tried not to think about what could have happened if his attackers had caught up with him. He’d been mugged and chased by hallucinations, but at least he was safe.

  “Here you go,” a female voice purred, making Will jump.

  When he looked back to the reception window, Will’s stomach did a complete flip, and his tongue went dry. An indescribably gorgeous woman stood behind the nurse’s desk, holding out a towel. Without her scarf, she was simply the most goddess-like woman Will had ever seen. Even in a loose-fitting nurse’s smock, she could have given every supermodel an inferiority complex. Large, emerald eyes flecked with gold and surrounded by thick lashes dominated her sculpted face. Her bronzed skin was flawless. It glowed with white highlights that accentuated her exotic features. Below her long, regal nose, full, wide lips curled up slightly at the corners. She had silky, copper hair streaked with black that cascaded down the sides of her neck and over her shoulders.

  The woman looked even taller now, her movie-star posture and lean, muscular physique making her larger than life. It was hard to guess her age. She was timeless. When she spoke again, Will noticed a subtle accent he couldn’t place. India, maybe?

  “You can take it.” She flashed a sparkling set of teeth and shook the towel she’d been holding out. “I won’t bite.”

  Will stammered something unintelligible as he took the towel.

  “Thank you again for helping me,” said the nurse with a sultry tone, as she dabbed her neck with a towel. “What is your name?”

  Will blushed. “Um…Will.”

  “Well, Um Will, do you have a last name?” she teased.

  “Will Tuttle.”

  “Will? Short for Wilhelm?”

  “Yeah.” Will blanched, hearing his real name. “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess. I’m Kaya.” The nurse smiled. “So, Will-short-for-Wilhelm Tuttle, why were you in such a hurry?”

  “Um.” Will thought about how crazy the truth would sound. “The rain. I was just trying to…uh…get to a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Oh?” Kaya’s emerald eyes widened. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Um, no.” Will shrugged and swallowed. “Just some allergies.”

  “What a coincidence. I work for an allergist here. Dr. Noctua. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

  Will shook his head.

  Kaya flipped her copper hair and batted her lashes. “Are you sure? He’s very well known in some circles.”

  Will’s mouth went dry. He’d never been flirted with before, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Nope. Sorry, never heard of him.”

  The nurse leaned forward. “He’ll be here soon. Maybe you should let him examine you. You know a fall like you took on the sidewalk can produce hidden injuries.”

  Will was fine. His wrist was a little sore and his knees were scraped up, but the more time he could hide from whatever or whoever was following him the better. “Yeah. Maybe I should see a doctor.”

  “Well, then, let’s take down some information, shall we?”

  Will nodded.

  Kaya picked up a clipboard. “We’ll need to check with your parents or guardian.”

  “Um, my parents are in the Mediterranean. I…uh…take care of myself.” Will tried to speak as confidently as he could. “I’m pretty independent.”

  “Yes. I can see that, Wilhelm.”

  “Will.” His voice cracked. “Call me Will.”

  “Alright, Will,” she purred. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “Okay.” He stepped closer to the counter.

  Kaya gripped a pencil with her long painted nails. “You have allergies?”

  Will held back a smile. “Yeah. Some.”

  “I see.” Kaya flipped to another page of the clipboard. “And, have you ever had a severe reaction?”

  He almost laughed. “A few.”

  “Do you take any medication?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Any special needs?”

  “A couple.” This was fun.

  “Have you ever had any hallucinations, delusions, or visions?”

  He tensed. “What?”

  “It’s a simple question. Have you ever had unexplained hallucinations?” She studied his reaction.

  “No,” Will gulped, trying to shrug. “Nothing like that.”

  “I see.” The nurse seemed unconvinced. “I just have one more question for you. Have you seen a giant yak lately?”

  “What?”

  Kaya’s green eyes glowed against her bronzy skin. “Or maybe a ram? Have you seen anything like that today?”

  Something was very wrong. Kaya watched him, still smiling. Only now the smile seemed more dangerous. As she leaned forward, Will glanced down at the nametag pinned to her uniform. Roxanne. But she said her name was Kaya. Will’s eyes dropped to the list of doctors on the desk. Dr. Noctua wasn’t one of them. He peeked at his watch—6:27 a.m. Kaya had said she was late for work, but the office didn’t open until nine.

  “You know what? I just remembered I forgot something,” Will backed away toward the door on the other side of the lobby. “I’ll be right back.” As he turned to grab the door handle, somehow Kaya was already there.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to insist that you see the doctor before you leave.” She was blocking the exit, the flirtatious purr gone from her voice. As she crouched in front of the door, something behind the nurse moved.

  Will’s eyes widened in disbelief. From Kaya’s back curled a long striped tail, flicking at the tip.

  Kaya followed his gaze to her tail. Instantly, her green eyes flared and her pupils contracted, forming vertical slivers in the center of each iris.

  Will recoiled, stumbling backwards across the room.

  Kaya lunged, extending five painted claws, and caught him by the shoulder. “Who are you, and who do you work for?” she growled, her face inches from his. Up close, Will could see the highlights on Kaya’s face were
actually white stripes of fur that ran around the edges of her cheeks and up to pointed feline ears that poked up through her hair. She snarled, flashing two sharp canine teeth. Kaya was a cat?

  “Tell me who trained you, Spy!” Kaya tightened her grip until her claws broke skin.

  Will tried to yell for help but nothing came out. He tried to inhale—nothing. His throat was closed. Staring into the cat woman’s face, he wheezed pathetically, gasping for air.

  After a moment, Kaya’s expression changed from rage to confusion, and then to concern. Will felt the cement filling his head. Kaya said something, but the thundering pulse buzzing in his ears drowned out her words. He reached for his backpack, a syringe. Then he remembered—stolen.

  Little lights popped in front of Will’s eyes as he struggled for oxygen. Kaya laid him on the floor. She turned and leaped to the reception window, yelling something incomprehensible.

  His skin tingled.

  Kaya was back.

  Will tried to move away. His body wouldn’t respond.

  The cat woman motioned for someone else to come closer.

  The first thing Will saw were two giant, yellow eyes with pupils like deep pools of ink. As the face came closer, a new explosion of horror smothered him. Blackness crept around the corners of his vision, then closed in, blocking out the room, the lights and Kaya, until all Will could see was the approaching face of an enormous gray owl. Will felt a mass of thick feathers wrap around his neck. The owl leaned closer and opened its beak. Darkness gathered around the huge yellow eyes.

  Will’s pulse thundered and everything went black.

  6

  An Interrupted Meal

  A bitter wind stirred the leaves across Central Park’s Sheep Meadow, barely visible in the struggling moonlight. Against the skeletal trees a huge cloaked figure crept, moving smoothly through the darkness. His fluid motion halted for a moment, every muscle on a spring. He leapt, swiping the ground twice. Two plump rats wriggled from the ends of his claws before he gulped them down. He was still hungry.