Chapter 17
Megan was disappointed when the ride was almost over but she soon forgot in the anticipation of her first venture into the unknown. The Jackal and Hide was on the seedy side of the city. Megan looked with covetous eyes at the rows of bikes glittering beneath the street lamps. Black and chrome, burgundy and gold, green, pink, orange and black, blue. A rainbow of bikes. Some were choppers with low seats; many were old and others brand new. All were clearly loved.
Douglas cruised slowly down the narrow, bitumen street until he found a space. Seconds later Megan hopped off and pulled her helmet off her head. She felt a pang of anxiety and pushed an impatient hand through her hair. She hid a grin as she caught Douglas doing the same. He caught her eye and smiled.
‘You look fine,’ he reassured her kindly.
‘You too,’ she said.
‘Ready?’
Megan nodded and followed him back up the road, her eyes trying to see everything at the same time. Many of the buildings were old and in danger of falling down. Some were more cared for and lights burned behind curtains. There were a few businesses barred and locked up for the night.
A group of young people huddled together beside a warehouse. As Megan followed Douglas towards them, they all turned and stared with hostile expressions. Then a tall, whip-thin young woman with vivid, kohl-rimmed green eyes nodded in their direction.
‘Watcha Candy,’ she said.
Douglas smiled at the girl. ‘How’s it hanging, Mulberry?’
She shrugged her leather-clad shoulders. ‘All right. Same shit reheated, you know?’ She paused and pirouetted gracefully on one Doc Marten. ‘Who’s she?’
Megan bristled. How freakin’ rude. ‘She’s the cat’s mother,’ she said succinctly.
The Mulberry girl raised a black painted eyebrow. ‘Chill, sister.’
Douglas stepped up. ‘This here is Megan.’
The rest of the motley crew all eyeballed her like she was a pickled head in a jar. Megan eyeballed them back. Actually, she was glad to have the excuse to check them out. They looked like they’d escaped from Halloween. Despite it all, she was captivated by their costumes. A carnival collection ranging from tutu to top hat. Cool. She felt drab by comparison in jeans, tee-shirt and old anorak.
A young man in a white tutu and outsized ballet shoes curtsied. ‘Pleased to meet you, Megan. I’m Spam.’
Megan giggled. He looked ridiculous. The atmosphere lightened perceptibly.
Douglas grinned. ‘Catch you later,’ he said.
The group nodded and returned to their huddle.
Megan was brimming with curiosity, and hurried after Douglas. ‘Why do they call you Candy?’
Douglas ran a hand through his hair. ‘’Cause my hair looks like candy floss,’ he explained.
‘Is Spam’s real name Spam?’
Douglas shrugged. ‘Who knows?’ He pointed up the street. ‘Nearly there.’
Megan looked ahead eagerly but couldn’t see the nightclub. In fact, he seemed to be pointing to a vacant block. She hurried up the street after Douglas.
When they reached the block she looked around and tried to dampen down a wave of disappointment. There was no sign of a club, just piles of rubble, squashed coke cans, plastic bags, and what looked suspiciously like several limp condoms curled up like shed snakeskins. Gross.
There was an old grate sunk halfway into the gritty grass. And, to Megan’s surprise, Douglas headed towards it. He stopped, reached down and grasped the rusty bars, and with one fluid jerk lifted up the grating. He looked over his shoulder. ‘Ladies first!’
After a brief hesitation Megan slid past him and dropped down into the musty space. Seconds later the grate clunked shut and Douglas stood beside her. She looked up and around. It took a moment to work it out but she got there. ‘Why,’ she said, ‘it’s an old railway tunnel!’
Douglas nodded. ‘Sure is. Follow me.’
Despite the inky darkness Megan followed with ease along the old track, her eyes swam around the curved brick ceiling. It was damp and water dripped onto her head making her shiver.
After several minutes the muffled sound of music hummed in her ears.
Douglas stopped at an old metal door fitted flush in the curved tunnel wall. He hit the door thrice. A small round hole appeared and an eye looked at them. And the door swung fluidly open.
Megan stepped back in shock as a wall of noise accosted her eardrums.
Douglas grinned. ‘Welcome to the Jackal and Hide!’ he yelled. Megan slapped her hands over her ears and followed him inside.
Chapter 18
Sean didn’t consider himself a judgemental man, but he felt justified in gawping. Both women were attired in long white nightgowns of an old-fashioned design. Cotton, full-length with lace at the collar. Draped over their shoulders, presumably to keep out the night chill, were long, deep red cloaks. And, to top it all, they both sported large black pointy witch’s hats. Seriously? Was it Halloween?
The women were close enough now for him to make out their age. The elder was probably high fifties and the younger mid-twenties. The elder spotted Salem, put down an old-fashioned carpetbag and let out a small squeak of excitement. ‘Look, Lydia, it’s Salem!’
Lydia smiled. ‘I told you he’d remember.’
Sean’s heart missed a beat. Oh dear, they were obviously a pair of escaped lunatics. Maybe he should nip home and call the cops.
But he forgot his good intentions as the younger, Lydia, finished patting Salem and stood up and shrugged off her cloak. The breeze moulded the gown against her body and, even in the moonlight, Sean could see the slenderness of her waist and the supple proportions of her arms.
She turned and looked at her companion with an expression that was both pleading and frustrated. ‘Your turn, Nancy.’
But Nancy just giggled and pulled her cloak around her ample figure. ‘Oh Lydia, I can’t. I feel such a fool.’
‘Nancy, don’t be ridiculous, it’s perfectly natural.’
Lydia shook her head. ‘That’s easy to say, but I’m too old to start cavorting naked in the middle of the night. I’ll get bronchitis.’
Sean clapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle the roar of laughter that threatened to escape at any moment. He’d always liked mad people.
Lydia pulled off her hat and revealed a long, pale face framed by soft black curls. ‘Well, take off the cloak at least. That can’t hurt, can it?’
Nancy giggled once more, despite the scowl offered by her companion, but complied. Her red cloak collapsed at her feet in a dark puddle revealing her face, short greying hair and big wide eyes.
‘Let’s do the circle then,’ said the younger, Lydia.
Sean watched in fascination as the elder woman untied a bag from around her neck and walked a circle, leaving a shining snail trail in her wake. Chalk or possibly salt, he decided. Soon she paused and inspected the work. She must have been satisfied for she beckoned to the younger woman and they both went to the edge of the trees and picked up dead wood and pine cones. In the centre of the circle they built a fire. Salem entered the circle, slumped down, licked his paws and wiped his face clean.
Once more Lydia attacked her companion verbally. ‘Nancy, we are going to give thanks to the Goddess. It has to be naked. Sarah already told you that.’
Nancy’s sweet face suddenly looked sad. ‘But Sarah’s not here, is she? And we are only two. Sarah said we had to be three. And I don’t think that Salem counts, do you?’
Lydia was silent for a moment. Crickets chirruped in the long meadow grass and the water burbled merrily along its path. She turned around and looked up at the woods. ‘No,’ she said clearly, ‘Salem doesn’t count. But I think the young man spying on us over there might.’
Sean was dumbfounded. How the hell did she know he was there? The obvious answer was that he wasn’t as well hidden as he’d thought. Embarrassed, he ducked down. But, after an awkward moment, he was forced to admit that he was sprung.
&
nbsp; He slipped out of his witless hiding place and moved out into the damp meadow. ‘Hi!’ he said. After all, they were the ones trespassing, not him.
Nancy and Lydia looked at him and then at each other. Lydia smiled. ‘Hello Sean, we’ve been expecting you.’
Sean was lost for words. Which in itself must have been a first. How did they know his name, and how could they possibly be expecting him?
Nancy ran her eyes over him. ‘Better get naked, Sean.’
Sean glared at her. Like hell. ‘What for?’
Lydia moved barefoot across the damp ground, her nightgown clinging to her admirable breasts. ‘Sean, we must worship the Goddess. We three must become one.’
Sean stared at her stupidly. ‘Sorry?’ He swung around to find Nancy behind him, her blue eyes wide with mischief.
‘An orgy, Sean!’ she whispered. ‘We are going to have an orgy.’
Sean stepped back in shock. Holy crap. They were going to rape him.
Chapter 19
Inside, the music seemed to be a tangible living thing. It filled Megan’s mind and pumped through her blood. She was in a huge arched space. Like the tunnel but three times wider and twice as high. It was lit by old-fashioned gas flames arrayed around the walls. Shadows boxed and danced around her like March hares.
A large metal stage filled the centre of the old railway yard. On its grey surface a myriad of dancers swayed and stamped. A band played manically at one end. Around the perimeter of the cavern were a number of old shipping containers, either singular or welded in higgledy-piggledy towers. The air was smoky and strongly scented with alcohol and hormones.
Douglas tapped her on the shoulder and Megan followed him to a single container with a wolf’s head painted on its faded green surface. The door was pinned back. Megan stepped inside and looked around, curious. The place was jam-packed with leather-clad men and women. Megan was stunned. The majority were her own kind! She’d never imagined there were so many living close by. It awed her, but scared her too. Did they not realise how dangerous it was to collect in such numbers?
Douglas pushed his way to the bar, a great slab of concrete resting on old steel girders, and looked at her enquiringly.
‘Whisky, please,’ she said, mainly because it was the only drink she knew.
The barman nodded and poured a couple of shots. Douglas handed her one. Megan thanked him, but felt uncomfortable as he handed over a wad of cash. For the first time in her life she felt a desire for money. A commodity she’d never needed before. As she followed Douglas across the wood shaving strewn floor, she wondered how she could acquire some.
They sat down on a squashy old sofa that threatened to swallow them whole. She took a sip and looked around. Everyone else was deep in conversation, but she noticed several pairs of eyes checking them out.
Finally, a handsome blond man broke away from his pack and came over. Megan was mesmerised. He might be pure human but he was gorgeous! Dressed in tight black leather pants and a leather vest his glorious physique was displayed with little left to the imagination. Indeed, Megan had to struggle to keep her eyes off his bulging crotch. Perhaps she was turning into a sex maniac.
Her level of excitement rocketed to ten on the Richter scale as he smiled lazily, showing perfect teeth and wicked blue eyes. His golden hair was held back in a perfect ponytail which emphasised his hawk-like nose and the arrogant jut of his chin.
‘May I?’ he asked politely.
Megan managed to nod, but to her surprise noticed that Douglas seemed uncomfortable. For a moment she wondered if she were wrong about Douglas. Maybe he did fancy her, after all.
The man settled down on the seat opposite and observed them both with unrepentant directness. But then he leaned forward a little and his eyes seemed to pin Douglas to his seat like a moth on a board.
‘It’s been a while, Candy,’ he said softly.
Douglas finally met his gaze. ‘Sure has, Dino.’
The man was still for a moment. ‘So…’
Candy chucked his whisky down his throat and slammed the glass down on the table so hard that Megan winced. ‘So…mine’ll be a double. And Megan will have the same.’
Dino grinned, leant over the table, reached out and gently ran a finger down Douglas’ cheek. ‘Don’t go away,’ he said softly.
When he’d gone there was an awkward silence as Megan struggled to absorb the situation. Finally she swallowed her drink and turned to Douglas. ‘So…you’re…gay?’
Douglas shrugged. ‘Guess so.’
Megan sat back. A gay werewolf? That was novel. At least it explained why Douglas didn’t fancy her. She looked at Douglas. ‘Does your father know?’
Douglas shook his head. ‘No.’ He observed her closely. ‘Will you tell him?’
Megan shook her head violently. ‘No! Why would I? None of my business.’
Douglas smiled. ‘Thanks, Megan. I’d like to tell him, but I don’t think he’d get it. You know?’
Megan glanced at the bar to the broad back of Dino. ‘No, perhaps not.’
‘What do you think of him?’
She grinned. ‘I was kind of hoping he swung both ways.’
Douglas laughed. ‘’Fraid not. Still, there’s plenty here who like the Eve. Do you want me to introduce you?’
And then she recalled the moment in the stable yard: the brilliant blue of his eyes, the thrust of his dimpled chin, and the mouth-watering proportions of his frame. And she decided that if Douglas could be gay, then she could be off the scale too. She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ she said.
After all, what harm could it do?
Chapter 20
For a moment Sean had to consider the possibility that this was all a dream. After all, it was highly unlikely that he’d really encounter a coven in the bottom paddock.
‘Stop it, Nancy!’ said Lydia, who turned to Sean. ‘Take no notice, Sean, she’s just winding you up.’
Sean looked from one to the other and let out a hoot of laughter. ‘What is it with you two? How do you know my name?’
Lydia bent down to stroke Salem. ‘Sarah told us all about you.’
All about him? Well, that would have been a short story. Still, he was curious. ‘What did Sarah tell you?’
Nancy came and stood beside Lydia, her expression sombre. ‘Sean, she told us that you had the gift.’
Sean was none the wiser. ‘Gift? What gift? Gift of the gab?’ he hazarded.
Nancy nodded. ‘In a way. You see, Sarah sensed that you are a…poet. Or, perhaps bard would be more accurate.’
Sean blew a raspberry of contempt. Poet! What a crock of crap. ‘Listen lady, no disrespect to Sarah, but you’ve got it all wrong. Look, I can read and write, but I’m kinda slow. Not so great with the whole book thing.’
Lydia leaned towards him, her dark eyes bright in the moonlight. ‘Sean, Sarah was quite sure. But she said it was all locked away. You just need to let in the light.’
Sean backed away. They were barmy. He’d best be off. ‘Well. Ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but I must be going. Don’t catch a chill now.’
And he turned and strode across the dewy meadow.
‘Sean, wait! What about the dreams? Do you think you can contain them with whisky forever?’
He stopped dead as a cold finger ran down his spine. How the hell could they know about the dreams? The whisky, he could understand. But not the dreams.
Slowly he stalled, stopped and turned around. ‘How do you know about the dreams?’
Nancy stepped forward. ‘Sarah heard you. She said that they were consuming you and that we must help you.’
Sean was flustered. Help him? He didn’t need help. Did he? The dreams faded in the waking hours and it was easy to forget. At least, it used to be easy. Now — not so much. ‘Help me how?’
‘We have a potion,’ said Nancy.
Sean was not inclined to laugh any more. There was a dignity in the woman’s words and honesty in her expression. ‘What, like a
magic potion?’ He couldn’t believe he’d asked that.
‘Yes,’ said Nancy. ‘It’s a hallucinogenic. It will open up the ancient pathways, if you are indeed one of the Olde.’
Sean was intrigued. ‘And if I’m not?’
Lydia and Nancy exchanged puzzled looks. ‘Mmm,’ said Lydia, ‘no idea, really. Probably won’t kill you though.’
Sean bristled. ‘Probably won’t kill me! Oh, thanks! That’s so reassuring. Maybe it will just reduce me to a babbling idiot,’ he said scathingly.
Lydia nodded. ‘Possible. But not probable.’
Sean glared at her. ‘You’re not really very good at the whole sales end of the scheme, are you?’
Nancy shook her head. ‘No, we’re not. But Sarah was. She sold you to us. We believe.’
And in that moment Sean felt his whole belief system waver and wobble. He was finally forced to face the truth he’d been running and hiding from forever. There was something strange about him. Something odd. Often he thought that he was mad, perhaps. A schizophrenic. Or something else equally scary. And he thought about his way with the horses. Some would say that it was a gift. A kind of magic. So why not something more?
He looked around the familiar landscape, at the silvery mist haze in the dell and the feathery fingers of the trees against the sky. The wind softly stroked his face and the water chattered cheerfully in his ears. He took in a deep breath of the mountain air.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll play along. But I’m not getting naked.’
The two women exchanged looks of relief and nodded.
‘Come into the circle,’ said Lydia.
Sean did as she bid. He waited as Nancy lit the fire. He expected them to put a cauldron on to boil, but instead Lydia pulled a flask out of the carpetbag.
‘What, no dancing and waving of wands?’ he said, only half-joking.
Nancy shook her head. ‘No, we have performed the rituals already. The circle and fire are for protection.’
Nancy held out the flask and offered it to Sean. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it, sniffed it and took a deep swallow.
The MacGregor Page 5