Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  Her advice given, the old doe deftly wrapped the snowdrops in paper and passed them to her customer, whilst at the same time proffering a withered paw for payment. Despite much humble protestation and shawl-fussing on the florist’s part, Linus endowed her with a hefty tip of twenty lupas. She had been very helpful and deserved every penny, he insisted, as she bowed and thanked him multiple times.

  “Briar go with you, Howler,” she said, invoking the old god of rabbits.

  Crossing the street, Linus could almost hear Uther’s gruff voice now. ‘Puh! Whatcha do that fer? You get suckered in every time, mate, every time!’

  Mounting his mono and tucking the flowers between his legs, Linus rode slowly along the road so as to not damage the doe’s beautiful blooms. The modest flats and shops either side gave way to finer establishments as the Howler neared the rich district surrounding the Ark and his destination.

  Heath’s flat swung into view. Parking outside, Linus’s heart began to pound and flutter with trepidation. Don’t be stupid, Howler, he told himself, it’s not like that.

  Before he knew it, Linus was up the dingy stairwell.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  “Coming!” Heath cooed, as brightly as his big bear voice allowed. Whilst tying his bow tie he crossed his flat and opened the front door. The professor was surprised to discover a Howler on the landing rather than the postbeast. “Linus,” he said, recognising that stocky frame despite the helmet, “what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Good morning, Professor Heath,” Linus replied, paws and snowdrops behind back. “How are you?”

  “Fine, Howler. And you?”

  “As well as can be expected, sir, all things considered.”

  “Indeed. I know the feeling.”

  Clearing his throat, Linus asked, “Is Sara around?”

  “Sara?” Heath woofed. “Yes yes, but you’ve only just caught her, we’re off to the Petra Square Science Exhibition in a minute.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m accompanying her.”

  Heath nearly went cross-eyed, “You are?”

  Linus emitted an awkward guffaw, “I hope so. Unless she’s changed her mind?”

  “No no, I’m sure she hasn’t, but she never told me,” the baffled Professor chuckled, scratching a hefty eyebrow. “Uh, come in, come in.”

  Linus wiped his armoured feet and stepped inside.

  “Make yourself at home,” Heath insisted, gesturing to the sofa in passing, the one Linus had slept on before. “I’ll go let Sara know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Heath disappeared into the depths of his flat.

  Sitting on the sofa, Linus rolled the snowdrops over in his blonde paws. He could taste the adrenaline on his breath. Is this the right thing to do, or am I about to make an utter fool of myself? Why do I get so nervous over such silly things? I’m a Howler, I fight terrorists, criminals and mad bugs every week and yet a little wolfess frightens me to death.

  I bet Uther doesn’t feel like this.

  He stood up again. Arms swinging aimlessly, he wandered around Heath’s living room taking in all the marvellous photos and trinkets once again. As he passed by the dark hall leading to the bedrooms and bathroom, Linus caught wind of a hushed conversation.

  “Have you seen him since the symposium, then?” Heath grumbled.

  “Aye,” Sara said, none too quiet. “Ah bumped into him down the Common Ground. We had a coffee.”

  “Saraaa.”

  “What?”

  “It could be dangerous, associating with a Bloodfang.”

  “How is he any different tae Rufus?” Sara huffed.

  “We don’t know him,” Heath argued, “That’s how.”

  “Aye, and that’s why Ah’ve invited him along. He’s a good ‘un Professor, Ah can tell.”

  “Well, so’s Tristan. Why didn’t you invite him?”

  Sara tutted, “He’s nae into science.”

  “He’s at least an Eisbrand of high rank. He can protect you, more than some… some Bloodfang Trooper.”

  “Professor, Ah love you, but you’re nae mah dad. Ah get enough stick from mah mother without you trying tae tell me what Ah can and can’t do.”

  “It’s precisely because of who you are you need to take care. Beasts could use you against Hummel.”

  “And you think Linus would hurt me?”

  “No, but….”

  “Well then!”

  Linus shuffled away from the corridor and across the room, not because he didn’t want to hear, but because he didn’t want Heath and Sara to know he had. It didn’t surprise him to learn that even the great Professor Heath, scholarly and open-minded though he was, harboured certain negative preconceptions regards Howlers and their packs.

  So did Sara, Linus realised, collapsing on the sofa for the second time, it’s just that I’m different, I’m a ‘good ‘un’.

  “Hello, again.”

  Linus looked up to see the elegant Olivia breezing into the room in a pink blazer and white breeches.

  “Hello, miss,” Linus said, hopping to his feet.

  “For me?” Olivia gasped, looking at the snowdrops in Linus’s paws. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, uh… well….”

  “I’m only joking,” the tall wolfess laughed, “I know they’re for Sara.”

  Linus forced a chuckle.

  “Don’t mind Heath,” Olivia whispered, though hardly. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  Linus realised Olivia was referring to Heath’s furtive conversation with Sara. “It’s fine,” he said. “I suppose a criminal could use Sara’s background against Hummel, if they knew she was their Den Mother’s daughter.”

  “That’s why she keeps it to herself. Mind you if anyone did try anything funny Hummel would kick up billy-oh.”

  Linus chuckled, then asked, “Are you Hummel too?”

  “Nooo,” Olivia woofed, “I’m a Freiwolf; at least I was adopted by a couple of Freiwolves. They live on Greystone turf. My parents run Blake Eisenglanz Works.”

  “That’s a big concern.”

  “Yes.”

  “You live on Greystone territory as well?” Linus assumed.

  Olivia shook her head. “No, not for years. I... can’t. I’m allergic to ash, you see. I always suspected I was, but it’s been confirmed. The Greystone air would likely finish me off for good!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s all right. You’ve got things far worse, Linus.”

  “Maybe, but at least I enjoy the benefits of imperium as well as the inconveniences.”

  After some time Olivia said cryptically, “So I see.”

  She sat on the arm of Heath’s lovely sofa and crossed her long legs. Her violet eyes looked a little puffy and watery to Linus even though the air was clear today. Perhaps Heath’s flat was so impregnated with ash from his constant smouldering it affected her.

  “Must be very convenient, being able to blow a beast twice your size across the room,” Olivia marvelled.

  Linus snorted, “It has its uses.”

  Casting her eyes over Linus, Olivia smiled and said, “I am thinking of moving to Everdor, actually, with Sara.”

  “That’ll be good for your lungs.”

  “Yes, but I’ve decided to stay a while longer, at least until this until mess with Howler Rufus blows over,” Olivia went on. “It was very upsetting for the Professor, more than he shows. He has no family and we thought he could use the company.”

  Linus nodded, “That’s very kind,” before tacking on, “You think Rufus will be released then?”

  “Oh yes,” Olivia said, waving a paw. “They’ll have to let him out sooner or later. ALPHA’s overstepped the mark this time and the Den Fathers won’t stand for it. Thorvald’s already building a consensus to vote for his freedom. They’ll show ALPHA who’s boss.”

  Linus fought to disguise his joy, “I see.”

  Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re close t
o Rufus, aren’t you?”

  Memories of Vladimir’s advice reverberated thought Linus’s head – deny Rufus, forsake him.

  Linus gave in to cowardice, “He was just my superior.”

  Olivia winced. “It’s all right, you’re amongst fellow dissidents here,” she half-joked. Looking down the hall and then back to Linus, she said in a dulcet tone, “Piece of advice, don’t toe the official line in front of Sara or she’ll be through with you by midday. That is, if you want a proper wolfess instead of the Common Ground floosies you low-ranking Howlers usually have to settle for.”

  Linus stood speechless.

  “Here she comes,” Olivia whispered mischievously, standing up as if nothing had been said.

  Sara entered the living room in a green blazer and white breeches – she and Olivia made quite the matching pair as they stood together, Linus thought.

  “Hello, Linus,” Sara beamed, head cocked to one side.

  The Howler bashfully hid his snowdrops, “Hello, Sara.”

  “He’s brought you flowers, dear,” Olivia betrayed.

  “What? Don’t be daft, Olivia.”

  “He has, haven’t you Linus? What a gentlebeast.”

  Thus revealed, Linus brought the snowdrops round front and passed them paw to paw, “I just… well… I was passing a stall and… uh… Well, there it is.”

  “Oooh, snowdrops!” Sara sighed, melting at a sight unseen in Lupa. Taking the delicate white blooms she gave them a hearty sniff. “Och! They’re mah favourite, Linus. How did ye know?”

  “I hear they carpet Everdor this time of year,” he said, with a modicum of confidence.

  “Aye, that they do.”

  Heath stood in the hall. “My my, snowdrops indeed. Have you been to Everdor then, Linus?” he asked.

  “Not yet, sir, but soon. I’m going to the Summit next week. It’s being held in Hummelton this year.”

  “Going as part of your Den Father’s escort?”

  “I suppose. I… I don’t really know what I’ll be doing, sir, just that I’m going.”

  Heath chuckled at the comment, “That’s life in general. We are but a penny set spinning on its edge.”

  There was a brief silence. Proudly nursing her flowers, Sara looked between all concerned, then said to Linus, “Are ye going to hide under that helmet all day, Howler?”

  “Sorry,” Linus replied, hurriedly undoing the strap and peeling back his helm to reveal his flaxen face. “I forget I’m wearing it sometimes.”

  To the surprise of all, Sara politely pecked Linus on the cheek, “Thank ye for the flowers,” and marched into the kitchen, shouting back, “Ah’ll just put them in water and we’ll go, all right gang?”

  Heath grabbed his keys and jacket. “Have you shut Toggle in, Olivia?”

  “Yes, Professor,” the wolfess replied.

  Giving Linus a knowing Charlie Cricket wink, Heath said humorously, “Good. We could do without a repeat of the great kitchen honey disaster, eh Linus?”

  “Oh yes, sir, absolutely.”

  *

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Nothing

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Tristan peered through the brass letter box into Professor’s Heath’s apparently deserted lounge. “Sara? Professor Heath? Anyone there?”

  Not a soul, just the ticking of a grandfather clock.

  Unsure how to proceed Tristan stepped back and looked around the hall, as if he might find the answers written on the light-faded walls.

  Am I too late? Have they all been arrested?

  Hurrying down the stairwell, Tristan got no further than the third floor before he bumped into a trio of black clothed beasts heading up – a grey cat in a black coat flanked by two grim-looking ALPHA Prefects.

  “Watch it, Howler!” one snarled.

  “Watch it yourself, Prefect!” the heavily armoured Tristan shot fearlessly back; he was bigger than either wolf, as usual, and this was Eisbrand land after all.

  The slim grey cat held up a paw to calm his muscular wolfen escorts. “Our apologies, Captain Tristan,” he said, adjusting his tinted specs.

  “Doctor Josef,” Tristan acknowledged. “What’re you doing here?” he demanded.

  The cat glanced upstairs. “Nobody in, I take it?”

  “What?”

  Josef Grau mewed knowingly, “Checking on Sara, as usual? I shouldn’t bother pursuing her if I were you. She’s a clever girl; she’s not going to be interested in a lumbering oaf of a wolf like you.”

  “And what would you know about her?”

  “I used to teach Sara. Didn’t she tell you? I thought you two were the best of friends.”

  Tristan growled, “I was charged with her protection by her mother, Cora Hummel. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She’s the Hummel Den Mother, so if I were you I’d leave Sara alone.”

  “I’m not interested in Sara,” Josef airily dismissed, turning the conversation on its head, “Though, I wonder what the Hummel Den Mother would make of your… advances towards her daughter.”

  “There have been no advances!” Tristan barked, looming over Josef. “Watch your lying tongue, cat, or I’ll have you and your Prefect jokers thrown off our land in disgrace!”

  Tristan and the Prefects and exchanged growls.

  Josef maintained order, raising a paw at his Prefects. “I am merely concerned for you, my friend.”

  “I’m sure,” Tristan scoffed.

  “I wouldn’t want to see you come to harm over some silly infatuation.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “So you will of course not obstruct me in my duties!” Josef continued loudly, over-talking Tristan. “I could have you arrested with a click of my fingers; I need only speak to Janoah. Were it not for your cousin being a valued member of her circle she’d have dealt with you years ago.”

  “I’m trembling,” Tristan mocked effortlessly.

  Josef’s white whiskers twisted in frustration; he could not frighten this wolf.

  At length, Tristan asked, “State your business. I will be satisfied before you pass me, ALPHA or not.”

  Josef turned his back. “I’ve no need to pass, Howler. No doubt they’ve gone to the Science Exhibition.”

  “Science Exhibition?”

  Beckoning his Prefects to follow him, Doctor Josef took his leave without further ado.

  Kicking himself, Tristan also exited the flats, fighting to maintain outward calm and nonchalance. The Science Exhibition, of course they’re there!

  Thundering across the street, Tristan noticed a little Springtail in Bloodfang livery parked nearby, but thought no more of it as he leapt on his own meatier Giacomo Dragonfly and sped away.

  Josef observed all from the nearest alley. He turned to his Prefects, “Call Janoah; tell her if she wants to get some proper dirt on Tristan, now’s the time. He’s hiding dodgers and Heath’s flat must hold evidence. We’ll arrest them all; I’ll get my pure-blood, she’ll have her spy.”

  *

  Meryl Stroud gently excavated a hole in the soil with a small spade and placed the plant within. The little bush was a mass of silvery, blade-like leaves and smelt gorgeous – at least Rafe thought so, catching a whiff.

  “Smells like perfume,” the big wolf observed, crouching beside the tiny nurse, he in his breeches and black Prefect cloak, she her usual, almost clinical uniform. “Lavender, yeah?”

  “You remembered,” Meryl praised, glancing up at Rafe. “Do you know anything about gardening?”

  “Nah,” he guffawed freely.

  Meryl scooped soil over the lavender’s roots and pressed it firmly home. “You should learn,” she suggested, giving Rafe a coy sideways look. “It’d be good for you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s therapeutic.”

  After a while, Meryl cocked her head to one side and added, “Good morning, by the way.”

  “Yeah, morning.”

  “How’re your eyes today?”

  Rafe blinked, “M
uch better. Things are pretty sharp.”

  Dusting off her paws, Meryl cast her own healthy eyes around the modest courtyard of ALPHA HQ, with its brutal, simple architecture of brown concrete and metal, quite ugly in her opinion. Still, plants might do well in this sheltered position, though only hardy plants tolerant of imperium ash, as was explained to Rafe.

  “Lavender’s tough as old boots,” Meryl said, “and has medicinal properties. It’s a herb, really.”

  “Can you cook it, then?” Rafe asked.

  “My aunt says you can lace cakes with it, but to be honest that sounds revolting.”

  “Must taste like old wolfesses.”

  “Rafe!” Meryl chided, hiding a smirk. “Come on, have a go,” she instructed, grabbing another potted lavender, one of many lined up, and pushing in into Rafe’s mighty brown paws.

  “I don’t wanna break it,” he complained.

  “You won’t break it,” his nurse huffed, immediately taking it back. “Look, you just tap the bottom of the pot and pull,” she instructed, doing just that. The lavender popped from its pot amidst a shower of dirt. Meryl dug another hole in the flowerbed and placed the plant beside the first. “We need to make a row,” she explained. “Lavender looks best when planted in a row. The bees love it; you might get some little ones visiting.”

  That pleased Rafe. Meryl watched him take one of the lavenders and ease it from its terracotta pot. For all his strength, he was very careful, a little too careful, to the point of being painfully slow. He would learn.

  “Now dig a hole,” Meryl directed primly. “Make it the same depth as the original pot. You mustn’t cover the stem, you see, or it’ll rot the plant and kill it.”

  Rafe’s erect ears pricked still further, “Rot?”

  “Not the rot,” Meryl clarified, regretting her vocabulary choice. “The stem mustn’t stay damp, that’s all.”

  “Right.”

  Rafe didn’t take offence; he never did.

  Meryl watched him plant the lavender, scooping the soil around its root ball with great care and pressing it down with those big, scarred paws that could channel imperium enough to kill Meryl in a flash.

  “Like that?” he chirped like a proud son.