Dead Wolf

by Tim O'Rourke

Then, as if a whole new world was opening up before us, a huge square of light flickered onto the cave wall before us, and moving pictures started to play across it. From the moment Dorothy appeared onscreen and made her way up the dusty road to her aunt’s farmhouse, Pen was transfixed. Occasionally, I would glance sideways at Pen and watch her hand delve into the bowl of Bree seed. As if on autopilot, her hand would blindly find her mouth and she would sit and munch on the Bree seed with her mouth wide open, not daring to take her eyes off the moving pictures. During various parts of the film, Pen would sing along as she quickly learnt the words to the songs.

  “You’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz. You’ll find he is a whiz of wiz! If ever a wiz there was!” Pen sang with a wide grin on her face.

  I couldn’t recall a time I had seen Pen so enthralled by something. When the Scarecrow appeared, I began to sing along. “I could while away the hours, conferrin’ with the flowers, consulting with the rain. And my head I’d be scratchin’ while my thoughts were busy hatchin’, if I only had a brain…”

  Together we sat and held hands as we continued to burst into song throughout the length of the moving pictures. Pen’s eyes and whole being appeared to sparkle. It made me happy to see my friend enjoying herself so much. As Dorothy finally made her way home to Kansas and the moving pictures stopped moving, I turned to Pen and said, “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Did I enjoy it?” she gasped, her eyes bright and full of wonder. “Wouldn’t you just love to wake up one day and find yourself in a place like Oz?”

  “Well, yeah I suppose,” I replied thoughtfully.

  “Wouldn’t it be great to be able to leave your old life behind, to go on an adventure? The only difference between me and Dorothy is, I wouldn’t be rushing to get back home quite as quickly as she was,” she said, looking at me.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Then, jumping up so quickly that the bowl of Bree seed shot from her lap, Pen cried, “Oh no!

  I should be home already. I will be in trouble.”

  Turning on her heels, and knocking her chair flying, she raced from the cave.

  “Pen, wait!” I called after her. I raced towards the entrance to the caves, then stopped.

  Looking back over my shoulder and into the gloom, I said, “Thank you, Burton!”

  “You’re welcome,” his voice echoed back at me from out of the darkness.

  I caught up with Pen in the tunnels, and sensing her fear and dread, I took hold of her hand again as we raced up and out of The Hollows.

  Above ground it was night, although I didn’t know exactly how late. We raced through the fields and towards the forest. At the treeline, Pen stopped and let go of my hand.

  “Thank you, Jim,” she whispered, as if fearing she might be overheard by someone or something.

  “For what?” I whispered back.

  “For keeping your promise and showing me the magical moving pictures,” she smiled at me, but I could still see that fear in her eyes.

  “What are you scared of?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

  Then as if in answer to my question, I heard the sound of a deep booming howl coming from deep within the forest.

  “That’s what I’m scared of,” she said, looking into the slices of darkness which stood between each tree trunk.

  “Who is it?” I breathed, pulling her close.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my father,” she whispered, looking at me. “I have to go.”

  Then, without warning, she took my face in her hands, and kissed me. Her lips felt soft, and her tongue even softer as she slipped it into my mouth. Unable to resist the urge, I kissed her back, wrapping my arms around her. I pulled her so close it was like we had become one. My heart roared inside my chest, my legs felt weak, and my head spun. We kissed long and slowly, then fast and passionately, as she ran her fingers through my untidy hair. In truth we only stood by the edge of the forest and kissed for no more than mere moments, but to me it felt like forever.

  The sound of the howling and snarling came closer, and Pen slowly pulled away. She let go of my hand and stepped towards the treeline.

  “Go,” she said, looking back at me.

  “I can’t,” I told her with a dumb smile spread across my face, feeling as if I’d just woken from a dream.

  “It’s not safe for you. Now go!” she snapped.

  “I’ll meet you tomorrow then,” I said.

  “No,” she said.

  “No?” I asked curiously. “But we’ve just kiss...”

  “That must never happen again,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” I said, still feeling delirious.

  Then, looking back at me from the darkness, her eyes bright, Pen said, “We can never be together, Jim.”

  “Because I’m a Vampyrus and you’re a Lycanthrope?” I asked, what she was saying now slowly starting to slice through the euphoria I felt from being kissed by her.

  “Yes,” she said, with a slow nod of her head.

  “But we could run away,” I said, stepping towards her and reaching for her hand again.

  “No,” she hissed, looking back over her shoulder at the sound of the howling that was growing ever nearer.

  “Why not?” I almost pleaded, taking hold of her hand and never wanting to let go.

  “Because my father would kill me,” she whispered, slipping her hand from mine. Then Pen was gone, disappearing into the darkness and out of sight.

  “But I love you,” I whispered.

  “I know,” I heard her whisper, which was drowned out by the sound of snarling and barking.

  I screwed up my eyes, desperate to get another glimpse of her, my heart aching. But I couldn’t see Pen however much I tried, and I didn’t see or hear from her again for another seven years.

  Chapter Ten

  Murphy

  Over the following seven years, I heard and saw nothing of Pen. During that time, my mother fell ever deeper into her catatonic state and reluctantly, Paul and I had agreed to place her into the care of the Black Coats who carried out charitable work within and above The Hollows.

  Here, our mother would be cared for full-time. As my brother spent more and more of his time preaching the word of the Elders, he got to see my mother often. Paul explained to me that he wanted to spend his life dedicated to the teachings of the Elders and he finally became a Black Coat himself, taking a ministry above ground in the human world. Paul would spend his time relocating the Lycanthrope who were trying to beat their curse. It was during this time, while listening to Paul talk of his work, I came to understand the conflict the Lycanthrope fought with inside of themselves. I became aware of the murderous acts that they carried out against the humans and their children. Like my brother, I too wanted to help if I could, but not by devoting my life to a bunch of ghosts like he had. I’d often heard about the Vampyrus who had infiltrated the human police and then gone on to hunt down and capture the Lycanthrope who gave into their curses and murdered the humans. I thought that I would be doing some good if I did that. Like Paul, I had a deep sense of what was right and wrong, but I just wanted to express it in another way - I wanted some excitement and an adventure, too.

  Although I had ventured above ground many times, I still knew very little about the humans and the way they lived. If I was going to police them, I would have to understand them better. So on my eighteenth birthday, I left The Hollows, only returning when the thirst was upon me, and made my way in the human world. I floated from job to job and from town to town, watching and learning from the humans. If I fucked up and feared that they had become suspicious of me, I would move on. After a year of living something close to a nomadic existence, I found myself a job in a small record store. It was while working here that I met Chloe. She was a human and I learnt a lot from her – but more than that, she helped me forget Pen.

  How to describe Chloe? She was beautiful. Not like Pen – completely different – and not just because she was hum
an. She was gentle and kind and so much fun to be with. Chloe saw the fun in everything, and although we were two different species, I could almost be myself with her. She had no idea what I truly was, and when I did have to return to The Hollows to rid myself of those cravings, I told her I was visiting my sick mother – which wasn’t a complete lie.

  Every time I went home I would go to mother, brush her hair, sit by her feet, and hold her hand while she sat and stared blankly at the wall. I would talk to her about Pen, but gradually the conversations became less about her and more about Chloe.

  By the age of twenty-one, I finally felt confident enough in the human world to fulfil my ambition of joining the police force. With the extra money, Chloe and I made enough to rent a small house together on the edge of town. We were more than just friends by that time, we had become lovers, and Pen and that kiss we had shared together was nothing more than a distant memory – or so I thought.

  One morning, I picked up the letters from the doormat and carried them through to the kitchen. Chloe was still in bed, it was Saturday, and she wanted to lie in. As the kettle boiled away in the corner, I thumbed through the letters, most of which were nothing more than junk mail. Then, at the bottom of the pile, there was an off-white envelope. My name had been scribbled across the front, but there was no address or post stamp. I placed the other letters to one side, and sitting down at the kitchen table, I opened the envelope. I took out the letter, feeling as if I had been slapped across the face. The letter was from Pen, and this is what it said:

  Dear Jim,

  How are you? That’s a dumb question, right? But you have no idea how many times I have started this letter, then ripped it up and started all over again. So, I’m just going to write everything down. So here goes...

  ...Sorry it has taken me so long (seven years? Has it really been that long?)to get in touch but things haven’t been easy for me since we last saw each other that night.

  Firstly, I want you to know that I’m well, happy, and safe and I miss you – always have – how could I forget you? My father had somehow found out about my friendship with you. So he sent me away. Remember I told you about his brother – the one who was imprisoned by the Vampyrus for a crime he didn’t commit, well he got out and my father sent me to live with him. My father just dumped me on him. I don’t think he was expecting me.

  Uncle John was pretty cool about everything.

  He was a pretty cool guy all round, really, and I think that perhaps he was innocent. Whatever he might have or not done, he just took me in and gave me a home. I saw very little of my father, and like most Lycanthrope, he seemed to struggle with the curse. So John became more of a father to me than an uncle, and I loved him as one.

  However, two years ago John died. He came home late one night with a fatal injury. I don’t know what had happened – a fight perhaps? I never really knew what he got up to and there is a part of me that never wants to know. But he died in my arms in a pool of his own blood on the kitchen floor. It was a very difficult time for me as I had grown to love him very much. Although life has sometimes been tough, what so often got me through, was remembering that night we spent together in The Hollows. I often think back to that world you took me to – not just The Hollows – but Oz. Although I don’t think I could ever return to my world beyond the Fountain of Souls, I have created a little piece of Oz in the human world!

  My uncle left me a sum of money – I do not know how he came by it and I think it is best not to know. But with it I have invested the money and opened a little café and bar, which I have named the ‘Wizard of Ooze.’

  Why don’t you come and stay? I’m desperate to see you again. We could hang out like we did before. It’ll be just like the old times, me and you.

  Write back (the address is at the top of the letter) would love to hear from you!

  Miss you Jim!

  Your friend, Pen With my heart thumping in my chest, I read the letter over and over and was so pleased to know that Pen was safe and well. I then folded it, placed it back into the envelope, and tucked it into my trouser pocket. I couldn’t risk Chloe reading it. Not just because it was from another woman, but because it spoke of The Hollows, the Fountain of Souls, and what Pen and I really were – a Vampyrus and a Lycanthrope. I wrote back at once and told her everything. I explained how much I had missed her, and spent so much of the last seven years wondering what had happened to her. I wrote about my mother and brother, then told her I had joined the police force. With the pen poised over the paper, I looked up at where Chloe still lay asleep above me. Then, taking a deep breath, I wrote that I had met a girl called Chloe and how much I loved her. I hoped that Pen would understand and still want to see me. Once dressed, I left the tiny house I shared with Chloe, and posted the letter to Pen. As I walked back to the house, all of those feelings I had once felt for Pen came rushing back through me. I could vividly remember all those lazy afternoons we had spent together, the night we had spent in The Hollows, and that kiss we had shared. It was that kiss I kept playing over and over in my mind as I tried to crush the feelings it had woken inside of me.

  Back at the house, I found Chloe wearing her night dress and sitting at the kitchen table. She had a steaming mug of coffee in one hand.

  “Okay, honey?” she smiled. “You don’t look well – like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

  I sat down at the table across from her and told her all about Pen. Not everything, you understand. Not about The Hollows, the Fountain of Souls, the Vampyrus and the Lycanthrope – but just about a childhood friend who wanted me to go and visit. As I sat and spoke, that kiss came to the forefront of my mind again and whatever feelings that Pen’s letter had stirred inside of me, I knew that I had better get a grip of them real quick. Not just because it was unfair to Chloe to be harbouring such feelings for another – but I was a cop now and any mixing between the Lycanthrope and Vampyrus was forbidden.

  Chapter Eleven

  Murphy

  I received another letter from Pen about a week later, giving me the address of her café-bar.

  She said that she was happy for me that I had found love with Chloe and invited her along too for the grand opening of her café. Pen explained in her letter that we both had to come dressed as characters from the moving pictures, ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ I went dressed as a scarecrow and Chloe as the wicked witch.

  ‘The Ooze Bar’ was packed on its opening night. The place was full of Tin Men, Scarecrows and Lions. Holding Chloe’s hand at my side, I looked about the café in search of Pen.

  What would she look like now, seven years later?

  Would I recognise her? Was she in costume like the rest of us and would she recognise me? I felt nervous but excited all at the same time at the thought of seeing her again. I looked around the café and to see all of those tin men, lions, witches, and scarecrows reminded me of the night we sat and watched the magical moving pictures together. There was a real carnival type atmosphere in the place and it buzzed with pulsating music and energy. Then, without warning, a pair of hands slipped over my eyes from behind.

  “Guess who?” a voice whispered in my ear.

  I whirled quickly around and there she was, dressed like Dorothy from ‘The Wizard of Oz’. Despite the long platted pigtails, which I guessed was a wig, I recognised that smile pulled across her face, her bright hazel eyes. Pen looked older, but more beautiful than I had remembered.

  Her body had grown up, too, and filled out in all the right places.

  “Wow, you’ve grown up!” I said.

  “So have you! Filling out nicely I see,”

  Pen grinned, patting my stomach. “Good to see you again, Jim.”

  “You too,” I smiled, my heart leaping, as I hugged her tightly in my arms.

  Letting go of her, I turned to look at Chloe. “This is Chloe,” I told Pen.

  “Hello, Chloe,” Pen smiled.

  “Hi,” Chloe said back, and even beneath her bright green make-up I could see sh
e felt uncomfortable.

  If I were to be honest, I felt uncomfortable, too. I was unfamiliar with Pen’s new friends. As we sat and chatted at the end of the bar and watched the inhabitants of Oz jive around the small dance floor, Pen beckoned over one of her staff. I guessed she was in her early twenties, just like us, but it was hard to tell behind the heavy lion’s make-up that she was wearing.

  She had light blond hair which had been vigorously backcombed to resemble a lion’s mane.

  “This is Annie,” Pen shouted over the booming music.

  “Pleased to meet you, Annie. I’m Jim,” I said. “This is Chloe.”

  “Good to meet you both,” Annie said as Pen propped her arm around her shoulder.

  “Annie’s a real sweetheart, she keeps me out of trouble,” Pen said wistfully.

  “Pen’s told me all about you,” Annie said as if studying me. “She said you were like a brother and sister once.”

  “I guess we were,” I said, looking at Pen.

  “She doesn’t stop talking about you!”

  Annie smiled. “Jim, this and Jim that!”

  “I have the same problem,” Chloe chipped in, staring at me. “I’ve heard so much about Pen, I didn’t know what to expect!”

  “Am I a disappointment?” Pen asked, flamboyantly tossing her Dorothy style pigtails from side to side.

  “Mmm…let me think about that for a moment!” Chloe placed one hand to her chin and pondered.

  I couldn’t tell if Chloe was joking or not.

  “That witch’s costume suits you,” Pen suddenly teased Chloe. “I bet you didn’t have to borrow a broomstick, you brought your own!”

  Chloe looked at Pen, and with a wry smile on her green lips, she said, “I borrowed yours!”

  There was a moment’s silence between them and I wondered if they would get on or not.

  Then, both of them began to laugh. I hoped Pen and Chloe would grow to be friends.

  Annie said farewell and went back to serving the customers that were queuing at the bar.