by Nem Rowan
I could see Pete now, sitting in that scuzzy armchair surrounded by empty beer cans and stinking takeaway packaging, his fat gut peeking out from under his stained vest as he complained about something on the television.
"You ain't going out dressed like that," he mooed at me like a bloated cow as he blocked the narrow hallway of the flat. "What would yer mum think if she saw you dressed like a girl?"
I was startled from the horrid memory by Ceri calling my name, and I banished the vision immediately whilst restraining my gag reflex. I could even taste the memory on my tongue, the distinct flavour of Pete's foul body odour.
"Leon, come yere," Ceri waved to me, and I turned to look over my shoulder. He was approaching along the lawn, and one of the boys was walking beside him.
"What is it? You ain't adopted him, have you?" I smirked, looking down at the rather timid boy, who was scuttling along with his goalie gloves held in both hands. Like most of the kids that lived here, he was clearly dressed in hand-me-downs as the coat he wore was at least two sizes too big for him, and the football shoes on his feet were badly scuffed.
"Leon, this is Darren. Darren, I'd like you to meet my friend, Leon," he introduced us as they came to a standstill before me.
I drew in a puff of smoke and had to immediately turn my head so as not to blow it straight in the boy's face. He was staring at me warily.
"Nice to meet you, Darren," I answered hesitantly, before offering him the cigarette.
"Don't give him that!" Ceri pushed my arm away just as Darren reached to accept the cigarette from me and I glared at him.
"What! He probably smokes already! Can tell you ain't from around here!" I turned my nose up at him and returned the cigarette to my own lips.
"I do smoke already." The boy looked to Ceri with a stubborn expression.
"I don't care, you can't go around giving cigarettes to children. Now come on, enough of that. Darren, you said to me that your sister was friends with Wallace Reed, isn't that right?" the Welshman changed the subject, and Darren nodded slowly. "Where is your sister now? Can we speak with her?"
"You can't, she's...been missing for a couple of weeks now." he shook his head.
Ceri caught my eye as I glanced at him quickly, both of us becoming suddenly alert. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and patted it.
"Can we speak to your mammy? Is that okay?" he asked gently, and Darren shrugged.
"I guess. Come with me." he gestured towards the entrance, and so we followed.
We stood side by side in the enclosed space of the lift, Darren in front of us fiddling with his football gloves and the smoke from my nostrils blowing out to form a haze that dimmed the light above us. Every corner reeked of stale urine and the metal walls were plastered in spray paint and marker pen. It was just like being home again. The lift took us to the fifth floor, and we followed Darren along the hallway, the sounds of loud televisions and crying babies reaching my ears through the thin walls. As we reached his flat, I chucked my cigarette down and stubbed it out under my trainer before coming to a halt at Ceri's shoulder, both of us waiting patiently while Darren took out his house key and unlocked the door.
"Mum! There's some people here who wanna talk to you!" he called into the flat before a voice called back.
"Who is it!"
"Two men wanna speak to you!" he called back, and there was the sound of a television being put on mute. "It's about Christine!"
"Well let 'em in then! They better not be coppers!" His mother's shrill voice shouted back.
"You ain't coppers, are you?" The boy turned to question us, and we both shook our heads. "No, they ain't coppers!"
"So let 'em in then!"
Darren pushed the door wider and gestured we should go in. The hallway was rammed with junk, socks and muddy shoes lined up against the skirting board and a mountain of coats hanging on the wall hooks, making it difficult to squeeze past without knocking them off. I almost took an ornament off the shelf when I passed as my empty sleeve trailed over it and I had to quickly turn and put it back or risk smashing it on the floor. The carpet was in dire need of a good vacuuming and I could feel stuff crunching under my trainers as I shouldered along the short hall towards the living room door. Darren shoved it ajar and went in towards the light. Ceri paused, leaning down to my eye level and whispering to me.
"Like last time, all right? Let me do the talking," he reminded me with a wink and I stuck my index finger into his ribs, making him jerk sideways.
"I ain't stupid. Come on, let's go and see the lady in her chamber." I nodded towards the open door with my chin.
The living room, like the hallway, was equally overcrowded with furniture and stuff, and was about as tastefully decorated as the Trotter family's flat had been. Bright orange carpet did very little to complement the salmon wallpaper and lilac sofas, or the mismatched cabinets and shelving units that were packed full of ornaments, DVD cases, photo frames and other crap. Darren was standing on the rug in front of the silent television, and his mother was ensconced in the armchair by the window, her spherical body clad in a floral dressing gown. She looked as though she was in the process of dying her hair as it was all folded into bits of tinfoil and neatly tucked under a shower cap, and there was the distinct chemical smell in the air that was burning my nostrils and making it hard to really smell anything else. She regarded me and Ceri through her large spectacles, carefully placing the telly remote on the sofa beside her before pushing her glasses further up her nose.
"So what are you two doing here? Who are you?" she prompted.
"My name is Ceri, and this is my friend, Leon. We're looking for a man named Wallace Reed," Ceri began slowly, and like before, he put on his most articulate voice that almost had me fooled into thinking he was much more than a jobless bum.
"Don't talk to me about Wallace Reed!" the woman suddenly shrieked. "If I find that bastard, I'll wring his fucking neck!"
"You know him?" Ceri assumed, and she slammed her hand on the arm of the chair.
"Ooh don't you even get me started on that bloody paedophile." She quietened her voice, but she still sounded enraged. Her cheeks had instantly flushed at the sound of his name. "Hanging round my daughter, getting after my daughter. She's fifteen years old! She's a baby! It's been three weeks, and she hasn't come home. Are you policemen?"
I went to open my mouth and say no, but Ceri quickly responded with a cool, "Yes." I shot a glare at him. He was lying to this woman to get information from her, and that made me feel uncomfortable. How she believed we were policemen, I really don't know, because a paperboy probably looked ten times more professional than we did in our scruffy clothes.
"Then why haven't you bastards found my daughter yet?" she began to weep, and Ceri moved towards her, perching on the sofa at her side.
"Ma'am, I need you tell me everything you know about Wallace Reed, and it may lead to the discovery of your daughter," he told her gently. I saw that he was breathing deeply, and he was getting that weird look in his eye that he had got at the apartment complex before. His scent began to change, and I found myself sniffing deeply, picking up hints of iron and sulphur.
The woman sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with her dressing gown as she nodded.
"Can you tell me what your name is, and what your daughter's name is?" he patted her on the arm reassuringly.
"My name is Sandra, my daughter's name is Christine, Christine Duncock." She sniffled. "She's only fifteen years old, she's still at school. But she went missing three weeks ago. There's been no sign of her, nothing. But that Wallace Reed, he was the one what took her."
I noticed Darren shuffling out of the room and I turned back to Ceri and the woman as he closed the living room door behind him, leaving us alone. I shuffled over to the sofa and sat there, listening to the conversation intently.
"Why do you believe that Wallace Reed is responsible for her disappearance?"
"Well, it was all what happened before that. All the trouble before th
at. She kept going to his flat, and he was kissing my baby girl! She's only fifteen! But that fucking bastard Wallace Reed, I warned him that if I caught him putting his hands on her, I'd cut his fucking throat," she growled, becoming angry again. Tears were making her eyes twinkle. "And Christine wouldn't listen to me, she kept saying he was a nice man, he was just her friend. I told her to stay away from him. Her dad went round his flat and punched him square in the nose, and the bastard seemed to stay away for a while. Then he moved out and someone else took his flat, and not long after, my Christine has gone missing."
"Is there anything else? Did Wallace Reed ever speak to you? Did he have any friends in the tower?" Ceri pressed further.
"No, no friends. He was always on his own, hanging around, saying hello to people. Nobody liked him. He was weird. Something weird about him, dunno what." She shrugged, her anger dying back and leaving only her tears.
"Do you know exactly when he moved out of his flat?" Ceri inquired as he took out his notepad and began to write this all down.
"Must have been about two months ago now," Sandra answered in a murmur. "No idea where he went. Not even you coppers seem to know that."
"Is there a photo of Christine we can take with us?" he asked her, and she nodded, both of us leaning back as she hauled herself out of her chair and went over to the cabinet opposite. She opened the cupboard and took out an album, flicking through the pages until she had picked one before she returned and offered it to Ceri.
"Please find my girl and put that evil son of a bitch behind bars," she spoke sternly as he accepted the photograph from her. "God only knows how many other innocent children he could hurt."
Even after we had left the tower block, an uneasy silence hung over us, preventing us from saying a word. I looked at the photo of Christine as she sat on the window sill, her long, dark brown hair blowing in the wind, her heart-shaped face lit up with a smile. She looked older than her years; with a bit of makeup, she could have easily passed for an adult. Ceri put it in his coat pocket and together we walked along the pavement, back towards the street where we had parked the car. It was only when we had climbed inside and shut the doors that I opened my mouth again.
"I don't think Wallace Reed is a paedophile," I spoke as Ceri motioned to put on his seatbelt, causing him to freeze mid-action.
"Huh?" he peered at me. "Are you saying the woman is wrong?"
"No, I'm not saying she's wrong. I'm saying I don't think the man is a paedophile. I think she's confused. I think there's more to this than an old man wanting to bonk young girls," I replied with a frown, and he smirked at me.
"Well you got that right, he wanted to bonk you, and you sure as hell aren't a young girl." He chuckled, and I smacked him on the arm.
"Yeah. Exactly. And neither is Mecky. So I don't think it boils down to that." I glanced at him sideways, my brows knitted in the middle.
"So your point is?"
"My point is, I don't know. I don't know what the fuck is going on here. Why is he going around and picking people off like this? It's not even like we've got a lot in common." I sighed and sank down in the passenger seat. "Maybe the only thing we've all got in common is our femininity but that's about it."
Ceri drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel thoughtfully. "Well, we could try and find out who the victim was back at Bath Road? See if it was a man or woman?"
"So, what difference would that make? Don't you think it's a bit odd that he keeps attacking people and not eating them? I don't even know if he would have killed me if I hadn't stabbed him. He might have killed Mecky too if you hadn't got there, and maybe he's already killed this Christine girl?" I reasoned, my eyebrows raised as I watched someone crossing the road in front of the car. "When I changed on the full moon, I ate my victims..."
That awkward silence came back and we both gazed out through the windscreen, Ceri no longer tapping the steering wheel as though to make a sound might dredge up all my horrific memories.
"Let's go home. I've got some more digging to do. Maybe you can help Mecky cook dinner or something," he spoke under his breath as he turned the engine on, the heaters coming on full blast and filling the space with warmth.
I grunted, not bothering to put my seatbelt on as he reversed out of the parking space.
Six
Dinner was a rather muted affair, with Ceri explaining to Mecky just what had happened and showing her the photograph, yet she seemed as baffled as we were. Unlike Ceri, Mecky didn't think aloud and so while we ate, she sat there silently, her eyes focused sharply on her food as she pondered on what had been said. Ceri, on the other hand, kept on throwing out the possibilities until all of us were thoroughly fed up and in need of a break, so Mecky banished him upstairs and asked me to help her clean up the kitchen. It was a welcome break from Ceri's speculating, but only having one arm made actually doing this activity rather difficult. I resorted to propping the clean cutlery on the freshly wiped counter top before rubbing it dry with a tea towel. Mecky watched me do this with curiosity, and even though I caught her staring at me quite a lot, I didn't feel freaky or disgusting under her eyes. The radio played quietly in the corner and for awhile we didn't talk, just focused on the task at hand, until finally she said something to me.
"You like it being werewolf?" she asked cautiously, and when I glanced at her, she smiled at me. She had such a sweet, foxy face, it was hard to imagine her being spiteful.
"It's all right. There's a few perks I guess. What about you?" I smiled back.
"I like it all right. But I like it having husband and son much better." She sighed, lifting a plate out of the washing up bowl and placing it on the drying rack.
"Yeah, tell me about it..." I mumbled, my eyes half-closed and the cloth squeaking on the surface of the dish I was wiping.
"You have someone? You have wife or husband?" she inquired tentatively, and I shook my head quickly, unable to prevent myself from blushing slightly.
"Ohh, no, I don't, I'm not married. I had a boyfriend, but he cheated on me and, well... You know how it goes. But I had a daughter. I mean, she wasn't biologically... Or legally for that matter, but she was my daughter." I shrugged as I smiled to myself, remembering Amy's friendly face.
"Oh, what happen to her?" Mecky spoke before quickly pressing her lips together when she noticed the tears in my eyes. "She is gone now?"
I nodded.
"How you feel is like what I feel every day is hard, I know it." She leaned her shoulder against mine. "Not your fault."
"Yes, it is." I could feel the tears trying to force their way out. I turned away from her, leaning against the counter one-handed as I struggled to keep myself under control.
I heard her pulling off her rubber gloves, then the heat of her spidery hands falling upon my shoulders. She leaned close and I smelled her curious scent as she spoke against my ear.
"When it is the moon, the werewolf is not in control. Please don't hurt, Leon," she whispered.
I looked round at her, aware that my eyes had reddened considerably, and she gave me a sad smile. I hurriedly rubbed at my eyes and sighed.
"I guess so. I guess you understand as good as anyone. But I killed Amy myself. It was my fault. But it's in the past now," I mumbled, feeling suddenly and unbearably horrid. I don't know how she managed to bring this out of me so easily when it was a doddle keeping this clammed up around Ceri. Maybe it was her female intuition, or maybe it was because subconsciously, I sensed she was like me, one of my kind.
"We look only forward." Mecky pointed off into the distance.
I nodded again. She gestured that we got back to the washing up, and I watched as she pulled the gloves back on, dunking them into the frothy water.
"So what was your husband like?" I questioned, just as tentatively as she had earlier.
"Oh, his name Piotr. Very handsome. Very tall. Very big, you know, down there." She raised her brows at me and we both laughed. "We meet long time ago, he is owning his shop and I am working ther
e. I make eye at him and he like me, too. We are married soon. I like his uh, what is it? Like how he is make me laugh?"
"His sense of humour?"
"Yes, yes. Sense of humour. We are laughing all the time. Always smiling." She smiled too as she spoke, her eyes softening as she remembered her husband.
"You miss him?" I assumed, and she nodded, her smile saddening further.
"I have Ceri now. And you. Ceri and Leon are my family." She looked up at me then and I thought I saw hope in her eyes.
My instinct was to tell her that we barely knew each other, that we were barely even friends, let alone family, but I didn't. I always jumped to the negative answer instead of focusing on the positive. Mecky really was how Ceri had described; even in these dark circumstances, she was hanging onto happiness by a thread, and it would have just been cruel for me to ruin that. Besides, maybe I should have taken a page out of her book.
"Your hair, I like it very much," she told me as I reached to put another plate in the cupboard, and after she had removed the washing gloves, I felt her hands stroking my ponytail gently, just like she was comforting a tiny animal. I had noticed her staring at it before, only now she was touching it. She smiled at me when I turned to look round at her. "So grey, why this colour? You have dyed it?"
"No, it's natural. I was grey when I was a kid." I watched her hands carefully stroking the silvery strands between her fingertips.
"You have fright?" she asked with great curiosity. Her eyes had become large and inquisitive, rather like an owl.
"Huh? You mean like something scared me, and I turned grey? No, I don't think so." I started to laugh, and she grinned at me then.