The green eyes peeled away and looked skyward at the moon. ‘I am werewolf,’ he said. And then he threw back his head and let out a deep howl. He stopped and looked at her. He grinned that toothy grin. ‘I am werewolf,’ he said. ‘And loving it.’
And she knew he spoke the truth. For she could sense in him something akin to the incredulous, effervescent joy that gripped her. She shook her head in wonder. ‘Oh my God! We are soooo bad ass. We’re, like — Batgirl and Wolfboy!’
The green eyes darkened for a moment as Zest snarled.
She jumped in alarm and took a hasty step back.
‘Wolf MAN!’ he rumbled.
She glared at him. ‘Jeez, Zest, keep your hair on. No need to get all…fired up.’ She looked away for a moment to hide a sly smile. ‘You know, I’d hate to have to put you in your place and kick your butt.’
It took a moment before she realised that the choking sound emitting from his mouth was just indignation. Finally he managed to formulate his thoughts into actual words. He licked his lips. His tongue was very pink. ‘Kick my butt! Kick Wolfman’s butt. You! Battygirl. Oh, please.’
The play on words really ticked Morven off. It was just so typically male to assume that he was stronger, tougher, better. Just typical. ‘I could so kick your butt.’
‘Hah! Fat chance.’ To reinforce the fact he flexed one huge hairy bicep.
She was really pissed now. ‘Arm wrestle,’ she said through tight lips.
Zest made a small yip of laughter. ‘Delighted.’
They settled down onto the soft, short grass. Face to face. Morven flexed her hands and leaned in.
Zest met her half way. ‘Elbows on the ground at all times. No pinching.’ His paw closed around her hand, which looked miniscule by comparison.
Morven nodded and settled her elbow into the earth.
‘Count of three?’ said Zest.
Again she nodded.
‘One…two…three.’
Morven gasped at the phenomenal strength pitted against her. But she gritted her teeth and halted the assault. She wasn’t absolutely sure, but she thought she saw a flicker of unease on her furry friend’s face. Either way, she gained confidence. It wasn’t over yet. This one was for girls and vampyres everywhere. Losing was not an option. She decided that the best bet was just to go for it. One mighty effort. She sensed that while they may be evenly matched in strength, she would tire more quickly.
Even as the thoughts formed in her head, Zest came back for a second try. His hand gripped tighter and he growled softly. Morven took in a deep breath and countered the offence. This time he wasn’t so quick to back off. She could feel one cold bead of sweat tickle as it trickled down her back. But she was holding her own. After 30 seconds Zest shifted his weight a fraction and she felt a buzz of excitement. Not so tough after all! Time to go in for the kill.
She visualised it in her head. A great surge of energy rushing to her arm muscles and tendons. One great push. And victory. Her body obeyed, pumping out its uniquely coded chemical cocktail. Confident now, she gave it all she had. She opened her mouth in a silent scream of determination and pushed. Zest gasped and bent into the weight. The muscles beneath his black pelt swelled and strained. Her breath came fast and furious. And then he gave. Not much. A millimetre. No more. A flame of triumph shot through Morven. More, she demanded. Another rush surged through. With eyes locked on his, she pressed harder. And harder.
And then Zest chuckled. ‘Is this going to take long?’
Her eyes narrowed as she glared over at him. She didn’t have the energy to comment. And then her heart missed a beat. Slowly, irrevocably, her arm rotated back. Centimetre by centimetre Zest beat her down and she realised he’d just been playing with her. Furiously she struggled to hold off the inevitable. It was nearly over. The back of her hand a whisker away from defeat. Still she fought on. And then the landscape dimmed as the moon sailed behind a heavy black cloud. It was Morven’s turn to smile as she felt Zest falter. The grip of his giant paw relaxed as he looked skyward. Morven seized the moment. In one smooth arcing action she reversed the situation and pinned Zests arm to the ground. ‘I win! I win!’ she shouted gleefully.
The green eyes flew back to witness his defeat. ‘That’s not fair,’ he said. ‘You — ‘
But the sentence was never finished. Morven watched on, utterly absorbed as Zest snarled and snatched away his fist. He stood and howled, a long mournful cry that inexplicably filled Morven with sadness. He slowly curled over as if he were being bent by invisible arms. For a moment he was still. Then he rolled into a tight ball and jerked and spasmed with such violence that Morven feared for him. The black fur fell away and his body seemed to deflate. And then he was still again. Only the concertina of his ribs falling and rising indicated that he was still alive. A violent shiver ran down his body and he leapt abruptly to his feet. He shook himself like a wet dog and fur flew in every direction. And the Wolfman was gone.
Zest blew a fur ball out of his mouth and pointed at Morven. ‘You cheated!’
Morven bristled like a cross cat. ‘I did not.’
‘You only beat me because I transformed.’
Morven shook her head. ‘Elbows on the ground and no pinching. That’s the rules. The rules that you laid down. I don’t remember any mention about transforming.’
Zest looked nonplussed for a moment. ‘But you’d never have won if that hadn’t happened,’ he protested.
While his statement rang bells of truth in Morven’s head, she had no intention of conceding the fact. After all, his lack of self-control wasn’t her problem. And didn’t it just go to prove that, in the end, Vampyre was best? She lifted an eyebrow. ‘I guess you just have to accept that I was the better — ‘ She stopped. Momentarily stymied. The best what? Scary something? Monster? Supernatural thingy? ‘The better person on the day,’ she ended feebly.
Zest grinned. ‘Person?’
Morven sniffed. ‘Whatever.’
Zest covered the ground between them with silent, stealthy footsteps. Even though he had lost the wolf persona, he was still different. Bigger than normal. Ears still pointed and his teeth unnaturally large. But definitely more human.
Morven eyed off his ragged outfit. ‘Zest, you’re gonna need a change of clothes.’ He looked down at himself but made no comment. Morven sensed he was preoccupied. There was an air of worry about him. He lifted his arm and then dropped it. ‘Lost my watch. What time is it?’
Morven checked hers. ‘It’s almost four o’clock.’
The anxious expression on Zest’s face deepened. ‘Morven, we gotta get going.’
Morven frowned. ‘Why?’
‘It’s midsummer. The sun will soon be up.’
It took a second before she got it. What a doofus. Of course, she was Vampyre and she had to be in her bat cave before the sun broke the back of the mountain. Weird. Seriously sci-fi wack-a-doo. A cold ripple of apprehension shivered down her spine. Finally, it all sank in. And she realised then that nothing was ever going to be the same.
Chapter 23
Zest watched Morven tremble. She looked as fragile as a sapling in a storm. He knew that feeling only too well. For seventeen years life had shivered down his spine. He’d been haunted by uncertainty for so long that it had become a familiar. His heart squeezed in sympathy for her and he wished he could offer some comfort. But he could think of nothing that could bridge the gap that had opened up inside her. In the end he reached out and tentatively took one slender, pale hand.
‘Come on,’ he said.
She looked up at him then, her dark eyes swimming with unshed tears. ‘Why didn’t they tell me?’
He knew who she meant, of course. Her parents. ‘I don’t know. I’m sure they had good reason though. They really love you.’ Like I do, he thought.
She gave a watery smile and squeezed his fingers. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘We’d better go find out.’ Then she looked around the mountain top. ‘Where’s Dog?’
Zest p
ut two fingers to his lips and let out a long shrill whistle. Seconds later Dog came bounding out of the undergrowth. He trotted over and licked his hand.
Morven bent down and gave Dog a hug. She looked up, her expression questioning. ‘Zest, what’s with Dog?’ She ran a hand over Dog’s thick, black coat. ‘He’s…I don’t know…different.’
Zest grinned. ‘Well, if Dog’s gonna run with this pack, he’s got to keep up.’
Morven nodded. ‘So?’
‘Well, let’s just say I gave him an itsy blood transfusion.’
Morven’s mouth opened like a fly trap. ‘You didn’t!’
‘I did.’
‘So, what is he then?’
Zest looked at Dog. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought about it. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time. ‘What are you, Dog?’
Dog sank down, rolled onto his back and waved his long legs in the air.
Morven giggled. ‘Doesn’t look too dangerous.’
Zest was pleased to hear her sass reassert itself. ‘He’s a weredog,’ he stated firmly.
‘A weredog,’ said Morven. ‘Awesome.’
Zest nodded. It was, really. Anyway, they had to push on. He pointed to the north-west. ‘My place isn’t far. If we step on it, we’ll be home in 15 minutes.
Morven took off like a greyhound, her laughter floating behind. ‘Last one to the bottom of the mountain is a mere mortal.’
And it was on. They tore down the rugged hill, sometimes neck and neck, sometimes not. Branches snapped and lashed at their limbs. Stones rolled under their feet. Startled wildlife broke cover as they charged at breakneck speed downward. Dog followed.
They jogged the rest of the way to town. Like shadows they slipped past the sleeping houses. A few minutes later Morven followed Zest up the drive of the car yard. Relief spread through him when they turned past the office and saw lights blazing in his van. It seemed that Mr and Mrs Smith had arrived safely. At the van he paused and knocked, feeling a bit awkward about just barging in, even though this was his pad.
The door flew open and Zest was nearly crushed in the rush as Shelley Smith charged down the steps. ‘Morven!’ she gasped. ‘Oh my God, Morven. Are you alright?’ If Morven replied, the words were smothered in her mother’s arms. ‘I thought they’d got you,’ said Mrs Smith.
Morven managed to surface, gasping for air. ‘Mum, I’m fine,’ she said.
Mrs Smith took half a step back, clasped her daughter’s cheeks between her hands and peered into her face. ‘Are you sure? You look very pale.’
Morven blinked. ‘Yeah, well, that’s one of the things we need to talk about.’
Her mother frowned. ‘Is it? Why?’
Clifford Smith materialised in the door way. ‘Shelley, please, let them come in. They must be exhausted.’
Shelley Smith looked appalled at her gaff and backed up the steps and into the van. Zest waited until Morven and Dog were safely inside before entering and shutting the door behind him. Oblivious to the volley of questions that demanded his attention he raced around and shut all the curtains. Still not content, he dug around in a drawer and pulled out a handful of pegs. He then proceeded to apply them to the drapes, ensuring no sneaky ray of light could poke through. He ran his eyes around the small living space until he was satisfied he’d covered all the bases. Then he turned his attention to the Smith family who were all talking at each other at top volume.
‘How about a bit of hush?’ he said.
He may as well have talked to himself. ‘Cup of tea anybody?’
Silence. Followed by a round of subdued ‘yes, pleases.’ Keen to hold their attention, Zest applied himself to the kettle. ‘Okay. Now, one at a time.’
Morven chipped in first. ‘Mum, Dad,’ she said softly. ‘Why? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Morven’s parents looked at each other and then back to Morven.
Her mother looked at her carefully. ‘Morven, it’s not that we didn’t tell you. We couldn’t. You see, until these last few days, we didn’t have a clue.’
Morven’s face fell. She looked utterly woebegone. Zest bit his lip and busied himself with teabags.
‘But,’ said Morven slowly, ‘you must know. You adopted me.’
Clifford sighed. ‘Indeed we did. But…well….you see…’ He stopped and looked beseechingly at his wife. ‘Shelley, you tell her.’
Morven’s mother reached over to Morven and took her hand gently in her own. ‘Morven, it’s true that we adopted you. We’ve never lied to you but I guess we’ve never told you the whole truth either.’
Morven’s head snapped up and her dark eyes locked on her parent. ‘Well, Mum, I think it’s time to spill the beans. Don’t you?’
Shelley nodded. ‘Yes, of course. Well, you remember how we always joked about how we found you in the veggie patch in our garden in Scotland?’
Morven nodded. ‘Yes.’
Her mother took a quick intake of breath. ‘Well, you see, we weren’t entirely joking.’
Zest was silently fascinated. He forgot to stop pouring the milk into his mug and it spilled out and over the bench. He swore softly and grabbed a cloth.
Morven pulled her hand away from her mother’s and sat up a little straighter. ‘Mum, just tell me, please.’
A tear ran down her mother’s cheek. ‘Oh, Morven,’ she said, ‘we so desperately wanted to have a baby. We’d waited for years and wished and prayed. We’d just about given up all hope when I was transferred to Scotland. We decided that when we came back to Australia we’d look into adoption. We moved to Edinburgh in the December and tried to concentrate on our new lives. And then, one Saturday morning, your father went out early to break the ice on the bird table. It had snowed in the night. And there you were, nestled up against the trunk of the apple tree. Wrapped up like a bug in your rug. A tiny, perfect baby girl.’ Shelley looked up at the dingy roof of the caravan, and Zest knew she was far away. ‘When your dad brought you in, we could scarcely believe it. Of course, we planned to phone the police. But you looked so peaceful that we thought we’d have breakfast first. And then phone. But when you woke up, you smiled and gooed and waved your chubby baby legs in the air — and we fell in love with you.’ Shelley paused, took the handkerchief offered by her husband and blew her nose. ‘Oh, I know it was wicked. And we waited to hear something in the media. If there had been so much as a whisper about a lost or stolen baby, we’d have given you up straight away.’ She lifted her wet eyes to her daughter. ‘We really would have. But there was nothing. So we just told everyone that you were ours. We were brand new in the area. No one knew any different. I used my contacts to secure a birth certificate and then a passport when it was time to come home.’ Shelley covered her face with her hands. ‘I know it was bad, Morven. But I just couldn’t help it. We just loved you so much. I’m so sorry.’ And then she began to cry.
Zest looked at Morven out of the corner of his eye. Holy cow. How the hell was she going to digest that little lot?
Chapter 24
The sight of her distressed mum, who normally never cried, softened the hard nub of anger in Morven’s chest. Morven couldn’t bear to see her so distraught. She stood and then squatted down in front of her. ‘Mum, please don’t cry. It’s alright. Honestly. I’m not mad or anything. Please…don’t cry.’ But her mother just sobbed all the louder. Morven looked helplessly at her dad.
He smiled and reached out a hand and squeezed Morven’s shoulder gently. ‘She’ll be alright, don’t worry.’
To Morven’s relief her mum finally lifted a soggy face out of her hands and looked at her. ‘H…h…happy birthday, Morven,’ she hiccuped.
Morven looked at her father. He managed a small smile. ‘Hang on, we’ve got something for you.’ He turned around and picked up two parcels from the kitchen bench. He handed them to Morven. ‘We always planned to give these to you on your sixteenth. So, here you are — happy birthday.’
She’d forgotten. It was the 16th of January and she was
16 years old. Her birthday. Never had the terminology seemed so significant to Morven. Happy birthday. But not actually the day of her birth. Not the day that her biological mother brought her into the world. Her real mother, who must have been Vampyre. And her father, too. She took the two wrapped gifts and put them in her lap. Even without opening them she felt the weight of their importance. She looked at her parents. ‘What are they?’
Her mother had mopped up the excess tears and seemed relatively composed. ‘Open them, why don’t you.’
Morven picked up the bigger of the two. It was soft but surprisingly heavy. Carefully she lifted up the Sellotaped edges and pulled apart the bright gold paper. She reached out a hand to touch the woollen rug. It was soft. The tartan pattern was bright, a complex crisscross of black, green and blue. She picked it up and shook it out, holding it up to get the full effect. It was very striking. She looked at her mother. ‘It’s lovely, thank you.’
To her dismay her mother’s eyes flooded once more and she dived for her soggy hankie. Her father took his wife’s hand and patted it gently. ‘Morven,’ he said softly, ‘that’s the blanket that you were wrapped in when I found you.’
Morven couldn’t find anything to say. In her hands lay a link to her past. It was mad-doggish. She laid the blanket gently across her lap and picked up the other parcel, wrapped in the same gold paper. It was small, hard and square. He fingers trembled slightly as she tore it open, aware of the anxious eyes of her parents upon her. It was a box. A black, shiny jewellery box. The hinged lid opened easily to reveal a silver brooch. Closer inspection revealed that it was, in fact, a coat of arms. Above the shield was a crown. Within the crown was a bat, wings spread wide. In the right hand side of the shield was an engraving of a tower perched on a mountain. A round globe hung in the sky to the left of the tower. In the top, left hand corner was a double barred white line, and in this separate space were five red drops of what may have been rain. It was quite beautiful. Morven looked at it for a long moment. And then she looked around the room at the tense faces of her audience. ‘It’s…amazing,’ she said. But really, there were no words to sum up the tidal wave of emotion that swept through her.
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