“God damn it,” he cursed, before turning back towards the stage.
If the group really were on the move, ready to make for pastures new, then he’d need to pursue them, but he couldn’t leave Neil, Gertie and Scylla behind. He forced his way through the ever-denser throng towards the stage, finally reaching the barrier. The same security guard sauntered up to him once more, shaking his head.
“Told you before, pal,” he began, placing his palm firmly against Brian’s chest, before Brian wrapped his slender fingers about the man’s wrist, summoned his chi, and squeezed.
The guard’s eyes widened in pain, his mouth opening and a pathetic squeal issuing forth as knuckles popped. His legs gave way and he fell to his knees in the mud.
“Sorry, mate. Don’t have time for your rules right now,” Brian told him, as he released the man to fall sideways onto the sodden earth, clutching his throbbing wrist.
Even before his friends could speak, he could tell from their dinner-plate pupils and ecstatic smiles that they’d be no use in the chase to come.
“Brian!” Scylla exclaimed, regarding him as though he were some glorious angel descended from on high. “We were wondering where you’d got to! Have you heard this music? It’s amazing. Come, dance with us.”
“We don’t have time,” he shouted over the music. “We’ve a situation afoot.”
“Yes,” Gertie giggled. “The situation is you’re a fucking bore. Get one of these down you and join us, man. Stop being an old fuddy duddy.”
Fuddy duddy? Brian didn’t even have time to retort, before the Master of Combat thrust a purple tablet into his hand. He glanced down at the trapezoid pill, stamped with a smiley face, before shaking his head.
“Listen to me, there’s no time. The werewolves…”
“God, you’re like a broken record,” Neil chastised him. “Werewolves this, vampires that. Loosen up, dude. Get that down your neck, stat.”
“If I do, will you stop being twats and listen to me for a moment?”
“Absolutely,” Scylla beamed.
“Fine.” He snatched a bottle of water from Gertie’s grasp and swallowed the pill, grimacing at the bitter taste, before sticking his tongue out. “See?”
Neil burst into laughter at the sight.
“Oh man, you’re in for a ride. These things are powerful.”
“Oh yes.” Gertie eyed him with amusement. “A wild ride indeed.”
Brian shuddered in apprehension at her words, before shaking his head.
“Now I’ve played your silly game, just listen for a moment. The werewolves have scarpered. Saw them heading back to the farm. I’m thinking they’ve caught wind of what we might have to do and they’re planning a runner. We need to get after them.”
“One more song,” Scylla pleaded with him.
“No.”
“Fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Come Gertie, let’s follow Mister Serious here and go track down some werewolves.”
“Yes, let’s,” the Master of Combat replied, linking her arm through Scylla’s as the two merrily skipped past Brian. “Sounds like fun.”
“Oh man,” Neil told Brian, still laughing as he passed by. “Give it twenty minutes and this is going to be the most fun hunt you’ve ever been on.”
Somehow, Brian sincerely doubted it.
Chapter Fourteen:
Chasing The Dragon, Erm, Wolf
Neil was right; this was fast turning into a very fun chase indeed. Brian should have been, at the very least, nervous, what with knowing they were chasing after a group of people who knew within a short space of time would be transforming into enormous, slavering monsters. But the staccato beat in his chest had little to do with adrenaline or apprehension and more to do with the euphoria surging through his veins. As they half-jogged, half-gambolled down the country lane in the direction of the farm, Brian couldn’t help but notice the subtle warmth of the setting spring sun, the colours of the hedgerows, the melodious calls of the birds as they sang to each other in the trees. And when he spoke, as he did more frequently than usual, there was no delay, no filter twixt brain and mouth, no self-doubt, no hesitation.
And it felt liberating.
“I still don’t know what to do with these werewolves when we find them,” he told everyone and no-one at once. “I mean, we can’t kill them, not whilst they’re human, at least. And we can’t just tie them up and shove them in a dark room, that’s called kidnapping. And that’s against the law. Then again, come to think of it, are Helsings above the law? What’s the deal with that? I mean, our benefactors are the government aren’t they?”
Gertie, strolling beside him, regarded him with eyes wide as saucers and a smile like the Cheshire cat’s.
“Never heard you talk so much, Helsing. Ecstasy suits you. Makes you less of a sullen twat.”
“You wait till the come down,” Neil chuckled, grinding his teeth. “You think he’s depressing normally? Just you wait, you’ve seen nothing yet.”
“I’m not depressing,” Brian laughed. “I’m what I like to call an ardent realist. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question, Gertie. Can I be arrested?”
Gertie shrugged.
“Dunno. Never happened before, but then all the previous Helsings were somewhat more covert in the way they operated than you are. The government turn a blind eye to goings on that are kept firmly in the shadows. And your predecessors were good at staying hidden. You, on the other hand; you’ve broken the mould, in many ways. But I’m sure if you ever did get thrown into the slammer, then Heimlich would be able to pull some strings with the powers that be. Then again, you could always just Blink out of prison. That’d probably be a bit quicker. Most likely less paperwork involved, too.”
“True that,” he agreed. “How you doing over there, Scylla?”
“Hmm?” The Nymph, all wide smile and wider pupils, glanced over at him as though she’d been in a daze as they’d been ambling along. “Oh, I’m fine and dandy,” she laughed. “Wasn’t sure whether this stuff would work on me, but by God was I wrong. I’m… what’s the expression? Flying?”
Brian chuckled, but then his smile flickered as Gertie raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Why’d you think it might not work on you?”
“Because she’s a seasoned raver,” Brian quickly interjected. The lie didn’t come as smoothly as he’d wanted it to. In fact, he could feel a huge, irrational compulsion to be open, honest and tell Gertie the truth. He could tell from the faces of Neil and Scylla that they felt it too. It was almost irresistible. Though thankfully, despite the immense power of the drug that coursed through their systems, they all still retained their faculties to some degree. “You know how it is with party drugs,” he told her. “Diminishing returns, and all that.”
“Oh aye, I know all about that,” she laughed. “I’m somewhat a veteran myself. But Neil was right, this is some powerful shit, no matter how seasoned you might be.”
“I know,” Neil chuckled. “It’s almost enough to make me forget we’re chasing after a pack of people who are going to turn into eight foot killers soon as the sun goes down.”
“Pfft, werewolves, schmerewolves,” Scylla remarked. “We’ve got Brian to protect us. And now Gertie too.”
“Damn straight you have.” Gertie drew two daggers from somewhere in her black leather jacket, spinning them with expert skill, before sheathing them again. “Any big furry fuckers that mess with us are gonna get the sharp end of my pig stickers. And no doubt Brian’s got a flaming sword to shove right up their full moon.”
“Well, err, no actually,” Brian admitted. “Kind of left everything in the car in the rush to get after them. Looks like I’ll be using fists.”
“Old school. Suicidal, but still, I’ll give you points for style.”
“Heads up,” Neil told them. “Farm up ahead.”
“Took us long enough,” Brian commented as they drew near the cluster of buildings. “Is it just me, or does this drug seem to drag everyt
hing out, make time seem to stretch on for longer?”
“I still don’t know why we didn’t take the car,” Scylla said.
Brian shrugged.
“Don’t think we’re thinking straight. Plus, between gurning and my eyes vibrating like angry bees, I’m pretty sure we’d be punching a Bertha-shaped hole through something or someone. At least it got us a nice walk out in the countryside. Fresh air, exercise.”
“True.”
They’d just reached the perimeter of the farm, when Gertie paused and raised her hand. The rest of the group had already continued several paces by the time she cleared her throat.
“What?” Brian asked.
“You were supposed to stop. That’s what that hand gesture means.”
“In the military, maybe. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not fucking Navy Seals.”
“You play Call of Duty, don’t you?”
“Yeah, and I focus on the shooting noobs side of it. Semaphore’s not really the core appeal of the game.”
“I think we’re getting distracted,” Scylla said, interrupting the pair. “Why did you want us to stop?”
“Oh yeah,” Gertie nodded. “Listen.”
They did as she asked, pausing and cocking their heads, listening for anything out of the ordinary. And there it was; a low, rattling cough, that of a diesel engine.
“What’s that?” Neil asked. “Tractor?”
“No,” Brian mused. “Didn’t see anything in the fields. And it sounds… muffled, almost. Like it’s inside a building.”
As one, the little group looked up towards the broad double doors of the barn before them. Just in time to see it explode outwards in a spray of splinters. The huge rusty mini-bus belched black smoke as it roared from the barn, a determined-looking Craig at the wheel, the seats behind him filled with various hippy shapes, each clinging on for dear life. Craig saw the group barring his way on the road and, for an instant, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. But only for an instant; reaching a decision, he slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator, the bus leaping forwards with renewed, if arthritic, vigour, powering towards them with all the urgency its coughing engine could muster. Perhaps the hippy had hoped that the four would leap out of the way at the last moment.
He hadn’t reckoned on their MDMA-addled minds.
Brian stood, with the others, simply staring at the approaching bus, the group unable to even think to move, enraptured as they were by the sights and sounds of the spectacle before them. The bus drew closer, closer still, the mask of determination on Craig’s face in the window beginning to crack and appear more like panic as they failed to move. Suddenly, a flash of heat from the ring on Brian’s finger, a sudden and momentary surge of clarity washing from it to flood his being.
“Oh shit,” he muttered.
Quick as a flash, he launched himself at his friends, grasping the three of them and bundling them together, but no time to concentrate on Blinking them to safety. Instead, he drew upon the nearest feeling to hand, focusing on the lightness and euphoria of the ecstasy in his mind, willing that sensation into his whole being and, by extension, his friends. The bus drew nearer, death by grisly squashing now an inevitability. Then suddenly, there was blackness. Then just as quickly, light. And the bus roared on its way behind them, off along the road and into the countryside beyond. He straightened himself with a long release of pent up breath that came out as a giggle.
“The actual fuck…?” Gertie exclaimed. “Did you just Shadow Form… the four of us?”
“It looks that way.”
“I thought that was a Helsing only thing. I didn’t know it was possible to share it with other people.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted. “I think the ring taught me to do it. And just in the nick of time.”
“Speaking of time,” Scylla told them, gazing up into the spring sky that even now was turning from bright blue to a light purple. “We’ve only a short while till the sun goes down. Somehow I doubt our lycan friends are going to find anywhere safe to hole up tonight. If we don’t find them soon, there’s gonna be a feeding frenzy. And never mind Cornish Pasties, it’ll be Cornish men on the menu.”
Brian nodded, face as serious as it could be whilst still being ravaged by the euphoric chemical- induced rush within.
“We need to get back to the car, and quickly.”
“It’s just taken us what seems like a lifetime to walk this far,” Neil commented. “By the time we get back there, they’ll be long gone and we won’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of finding them. And it’s not like we can go back to the Seal Sanctuary and ask our watery mates. By the time the hippies have Hulked out and turned pungent enough to track, it’ll be too late.”
“Watery mates?” Gertie’s gaze was curious.
“Don’t ask,” Brian told her. “But Neil’s right; we’ve screwed the pooch on this one. Unless…”
Scylla gazed up at him with her dark, wide eyes, rendered darker and wider still by drugs potent enough to affect even her supernatural constitution.
“Unless?”
“I’m gonna…” He wouldn’t have even ventured forth with the next words, were it not for the emboldening effects of the MDMA. So terrible might the consequences be should he fail. “I’m gonna try to Blink back to the Festival. To the car.”
“But that’s dangerous, aint it?” Neil asked. “You need to see where you’re going, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen Heimlich do it,” Brian replied.
“But Heimlich’s a master spellcaster,” Gertie told him, her face strangely empathetic, though whether that was because she truly cared for his well-being or whether it was the love-drug, he couldn’t be sure. “He’s got years of practice under his belt. And even he’s got it wrong at times. I mean, look at his arm…”
“I know,” Brian admitted. “But the Festival car park is an open field. There’s no walls.”
“Yes, Brian,” Scylla said, her expression worried, a strange look on a usually fearless nymph. “But there’s cars. If you appear in one of them, you might get your head chopped off. Or worse.”
“What’s worse than getting your head chopped off?”
“Dunno. But I’m sure you don’t want to find out.”
“I’ll be fine,” he told her, though he wasn’t quite sure whether the sentence was meant to reassure her or himself. “I can do it.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m never sure. But I’m gonna give it a go. Lives depend on us moving fast. Now quiet, all of you; I need to concentrate.”
The three backed away a couple of paces, leaving him some space to concentrate, glancing at each other sidelong with expressions as concerned as the intoxicating drug would allow. Brian closed his eyes, bringing to mind the car park as he’d remembered it; the Camaro, next to it, a Vauxhall Meriva, beside that, a tree. Hopefully the layout of the field hadn’t changed too much during the time since they’d parked up. Slowly, he built the picture up in his mind in as much detail as he possibly could. Then, finally, with a heart beating furiously in part chemical frenzy and part nerves, he called upon the power of the ring.
And Blinked.
He screwed his eyes tighter in apprehension, feeling that strange and indescribable sensation of being in two places at once, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t materialise halfway through a vehicle, or, worse still, a random person. The sensation passed almost as quickly as it had arrived, but it was long moments before he finally dared open his eyes. Smoke surrounded him, the dark cloying cloud of translocation, dissipating on the fresh coastal breeze. Cars dotted all about, the Camaro directly before him. He looked down at his limbs; all were present and correct, not even the soles of his trainers embedded in the sodden earth beneath his feet. His torso, thankfully, and almost miraculously, not protruding from the steel roof of a vehicle.
“Holy shit,” he half-gasped, half-giggled to himself in shock. “It only bloody worked.”
A gaggle of fe
stival-goers, all clearly the worse for wear, standing a few yards away, staring at him following his sudden and inexplicable appearance. One of them, a hipster, all huge lumberjack beard to hide a weak chin, with round glasses perched in front of eyes red-rimmed from weed, opened his mouth.
“How did you…?”
Brian spread his hands before him, mouthing an explosion.
“Magic!”
Leaving them with that truthful yet unsatisfying answer, he turned his attention to Bertha. If he hopped in now, he’d probably take ten minutes or so to reach his friends. Yet how far could the wolf pack travel in their mini-bus in that time? Too far, by his reckoning. Suddenly, he caught sight of a small, sleeker shape by the side of the Camaro; Gertie’s motorbike, a bright yellow Yamaha R1, all wasp-like, with an angry, scowling face and looking like it was doing a hundred miles per hour standing still. A smile slowly spread across his face; could he Blink it back with him? It meant only he and Gertie could pursue the beasts, but would that really be a bad thing? It would keep Scylla from revealing her true nature, should things come to a head. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the right thing to do. He popped the boot of the car, retrieving his sword and his sub-machinegun, slinging the former in its sheath about his back, the other dangling from its strap over his shoulders. When he slammed the boot-lid shut, he noticed the revellers still standing open-mouthed, gawking at him as though he had two heads.
“Ready for another magic trick?” he asked them, as he strode over to the motorcycle.
Brian Helsing: The World's Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter. Mission #3: Howlin' Mad Page 9