Pain Cages

by Kane, Paul

  “It wasn’t a story, look––”

  “I’ve had it with all of this. I’m going away for a bit, Neil.”

  “Good, that’s good.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He meant it was good because it was dangerous to be around him right now, but he couldn’t explain that to her.

  “Good? You think it’s good I’m leaving you?” Now not even dogs… and people like Neil… could hear her, she was so shrill. And without being there, he had no way of talking to her (influencing her?), calming her down. “Fuck you, Neil.” She hung up the phone with a click.

  He tried ringing her back, but she’d left it off the hook––and her mobile was turned off. “Shit!” he repeated. In spite of how dangerous it was, he had to go back now. Neil crossed the road to flag down a taxi when his phone rang. He answered it quickly, not even looking at the ID.

  “Julie?”

  “Neil… Neil, you have to come, right now!” It was Luke, and he sounded terrified.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the hotel. There’s someone. Neil… Neil you have to––” The connection fizzled out, and Neil had no more luck getting back in touch with Luke than he had with Julie.

  When the taxi pulled up and he got inside, the driver asked: “Where to, mate?”

  Neil thought for a moment, then said: “Wanderer’s Lodge, Oakley Street.”

  * * *

  Though Luke hadn’t mentioned the room number he was staying in, and Neil knew that reception would never tell him, he was easily able to track his friend’s scent. The corridors were relatively free of people, and those who were staying there had locked themselves away in their rooms, watching TV, screwing, or getting ready to head off for a Saturday night out. Again, that would have been Neil so long ago––not in a hotel room, but preparing to hit the clubs, on the prowl with his mates (who were all but dead now, and in the space of the last month). Plus which, with every hour that passed, Neil’s senses were growing keener. By tomorrow night, they’d be at their sharpest.

  Room 320, on the third floor. That’s where Luke’s scent led him. He was about to knock on the door, when he saw it was already open a crack. Neil contemplated running away, but after what he’d thought of Luke for doing the same, it seemed more than a little hypocritical. He toed open the door, then scanned the small room. There was nobody inside, but he could still smell Luke’s scent. That stopped once he made it into the room itself.

  The light was on in the bathroom, so Neil followed it, still poised to tackle anyone who might leap out at him. He could smell the coppery aroma of blood, but diluted somehow. Making his way inside the bathroom, he saw the tub there filled with red water. Luke was in that water, stripped to his boxers, staring up at Neil with glassy eyes. His veins had been opened, the razor used still on the side of the bath. Neil didn’t need to examine it to know that this, too, was made from silver. Once more, whoever had done this had covered themselves––another ‘suicide’. There was no way anyone, apart from him, would think otherwise.

  Shaking his head, Neil backed out of the bathroom, knowing that the sight of Luke like this would follow him to the grave. How long he’d have until he faced that scenario was another matter.

  He exited the room, left the hotel––looking over his shoulder the whole time. Luke had had the right idea: get out, run before the hunters could kill them. Only he’d been too late, the pursuers too clever.

  Just as their enemy was being clever right now. A car waiting, crawling down the street. Lights coming on when the driver saw Neil, dazzling him. His only warning was the revving of a powerful engine, and then it was after him. Neil ran, very aware now of his belly and how much faster he would have been if he’d kept in Luke’s shape (though it hadn’t really helped Luke much, had it?). He needed to get to a more densely populated place, the nightlife area for example. But the driver of the car had other ideas, blocking off the way Neil was going to go and more or less forcing him down a side street.

  Was this how Ryan had felt when he was mown down? Neil wondered. Had he even had this much time before the car rammed into him? The car, Neil saw as he looked back, that did indeed have a silver bumper––with rough edges that, if they caught him, would definitely tear into his legs. Neil skidded round another corner, praying to see some signs of life: someone, anyone out on the streets. But they were all gravitating to the more exciting parts of town right now, which left the way clear for the hunters to run Neil to ground. The car was gaining on him again, but Neil did at least have one advantage. Though it had been a long time since he’d been out this far, the town hadn’t changed that much, and there had been a time of day when he’d known these streets blindfolded. Better than whoever was chasing him, certainly, because there was a shortcut this way to the old canal.

  Neil ran down one deserted street and up another, the car still behind but having to go slowly in unfamiliar territory.

  Nearly there, nearly there, he was telling himself, puffing out breath as he went. What he would do when he actually got there, Neil hadn’t really figured out. He just knew that cars couldn’t drive on water, so that’s where he should be heading. The car sped up when that water came into view, obviously realizing what Neil had in mind.

  Neil was running towards the railing which stopped people from falling into the canal, maybe thinking he could leap that and climb down the side. But he didn’t get a chance; the car pulled up alongside and clipped Neil. He was pitched over the railings, and suddenly was falling. It seemed to take a long time to finally hit the water, and when he did, it felt like it was hitting him back. He might have banged his head on something, but Neil definitely blacked out, letting both the darkness and the water take him.

  * * *

  When he woke, he ached all over.

  He’d been pitched up on the bank some way down the canal, and it was light again. Neil blinked, coughed, and experimentally raised his head. That had been a bad idea. He looked at his watch, but it had stopped when he fell––was forced––into the dirty water.

  It still said 8:30.

  It had to be the next day, though. Sunday. Damn, he was lucky to still be alive. His head was sore, and when he touched the crown there was a lump where he must have knocked it on something before sinking.

  Probably looked like he was a goner. Probably also why the people or person after him didn’t come down to check, to finish the job properly. Neil lifted himself up, letting out a cry at the pain he was in. Luckily, that bumper hadn’t caught him or this would have been so much worse. He’d be okay in a couple of hours, three or four at most. And later on was a full moon, which would see him growing stronger and stronger…

  He was soaking, and he was hungry.

  It probably wasn’t the best idea, but Neil decided to head home.

  * * *

  He’d drawn some strange looks on the bus he’d caught, not least because of the smell, but Neil ignored them. It was late afternoon a church clock informed him, not long till evening. He’d made sure he wasn’t being followed––as best he could, anyway––and had watched his own house for about half an hour before entering, just to make sure it wasn’t being staked out.

  It wasn’t, he concluded, but entered through the back door anyway. At least Julie was away from all this. Had left hating him, but was safe.

  Or so he’d thought.

  The hunter(s) had been thorough as always, making it appear as if a burglar had broken in through the side window, that Julie had surprised the criminal and paid the price for it. Why hadn’t she gone like she said she was going to? If only she’d––

  Neil went to the body, face down on the living room rug amongst the books and DVDs thrown there to make it look like the place had been ransacked. He turned her over, but knew Julie was dead. Her neck had been snapped. Tears were welling in Neil’s eyes, and as he sniffed them up, he smelt something else.

  His wife hadn’t been the only one to die that day. It probably would have been
undetectable if he hadn’t been who he was, probably wouldn’t even have shown up on a test yet––but Neil knew. Not only that, he smelt what his son might have become had his life not been snuffed out before it really began: sensed all the triumphs and the losses he would have gone through; shared in the knowledge he would have learnt at school, then university; saw the job he would do, following his mother into teaching; saw the faces of all the girls he might have dated, before finally marrying one of them; saw the grandchildren Neil would now never have…

  All lost, all gone.

  He wouldn’t have carried Neil’s burden, either––having inherited more genes from Julie than him. His son would have led a normal life, free from being hunted like his father had been this weekend.

  Neil bared his teeth, then he growled. Then he began to howl.

  He sniffed again; this time he smelt the interloper.

  And now he had a trail to follow.

  * * *

  It ended in an alleyway, behind a row of nightclubs: the trail and that very long weekend.

  The place was familiar to Neil, one of his old stomping grounds. It made him wonder whether he’d been lured here, whether following the scent was just another trap. If it was, he didn’t care anymore. Didn’t care about much at all as he crouched on a fire escape, stripped, observing the man standing with his back to Neil in the shadows cast by the full moon above.

  The car––the one used to try and run Neil down––was at the head of the alley, abandoned, and the man who presumably owned it was just waiting out in the open. He looked to be alone, but might simply be the bait (others could have masked their scent somehow––they were sneaky bastards, he’d seen that). Neil might not care, but that didn’t mean he was mental.

  Now the man was crouching, too, just like Neil. He bent, the echo of his cracking knees reverberating throughout the alley, but was almost swallowed by the thumping techno beat from some of the clubs round the front.

  What the hell was he doing? Neil squinted, then looked around again for any sign of companions. Nothing.

  The man was rising again, preparing to walk back to his car. If Neil was going to strike, it had to be now.

  “Fuck it,” he whispered, then leapt down from the fire escape, transforming as he did so. (Getting back into shape.) He hadn’t done this at will for a long time, and the quickness of it took him by surprise. His whole body tingled as the new hairs appeared, his eyes taking on that yellow and scarlet cast that gave them almost infra-red capabilities, tongue growing as his teeth lengthened and became much more pointed.

  He landed awkwardly, not with the grace and skill he’d once been able to boast, and it alerted the man ahead of him, who opened his mouth in surprise. If he was shocked, then it was the first time since all this began that they––all right, Neil, because he was the only one left––had the upper hand. That didn’t last long.

  The man pulled something from his jacket and aimed it at Neil. There was no bang, as he might have expected, but Neil felt the impact of a projectile in his shoulder: hard and sharp. A bolt from a crossbow. A silver bolt that stung like someone had just rammed a red-hot poker into him.

  Neil howled again, this time in pain––but he had the presence of mind to dodge the next two bolts fired, one flying over his head, the other whizzing past his thigh.

  Clawing at the wound with nails that had matched his teeth in growth, Neil managed to rip out the bolt and tossed it aside. The wound still burned, but wouldn’t prove fatal.

  Neil lunged forwards, using his powerful back legs to propel himself. The man was trying to reload his handheld crossbow, but couldn’t do it in time and so abandoned that idea. Backing off to retreat to his car.

  Neil came bounding up behind, but if he thought it was going to be that easy, he was sadly mistaken. The man turned, suddenly, and lashed out with a chain. Slightly thicker than the one he must have used on Owen, this nevertheless had the same effect. It wound itself around Neil’s neck, half-choking him when the man tugged hard. That same burning sensation struck Neil, and if the hunter had his crossbow to hand he might have been able to finish the wolf off while in this weakened condition.

  But Neil gathered up enough strength to lash out with a claw, which only missed the hunter by millimeters. Closer now to the man, Neil was able to take in more of his features. He was older than Neil had expected. Older even than he was. The man’s silver-grey hair was still hanging on to the remnants of a darker color, but the lines criss-crossing his face gave him away completely. Though he’d obviously looked after himself better than Neil, this man had to be pushing sixty.

  The hunter let go of the chain and stumbled backwards again, breaking into a dash for the car. Neil dropped to his knees, tearing at the chain around his neck.

  She finally let you off the leash, then?

  Owen’s harsh words made him think of Julie, and then he thought of her laying on the living room floor, thought about both her and the baby dying at this man’s hands.

  And that just made Neil go wild.

  He shrugged off the chains and rose, roaring, into the night air. The thumping of the music from the clubs kept pace with the rhythm of his heart, accompanied the pumping of the blood around the hunter’s body which Neil could hear. He bounded after him, faster and faster.

  The hunter had made it to the vehicle, though, and was sliding inside, sliding the key into the ignition at the same time. He gunned the engine and began reversing at Neil.

  The wolf hadn’t been expecting that move, and when the car connected with him, it knocked him back into the alleyway. Luckily, the rear bumper wasn’t silver––there was no fire when the car hit Neil––so he rose, quickly, shaking his head and snarling. The hunter had braked after hitting the wolf, but now floored the accelerator again, clouds of smoke pluming from the tires. He was planning to finish off the job, but Neil had other ideas.

  Neil climbed onto the boot, claws digging into the metal so he could haul himself up. Then he was on the roof, ripping through it like paper, to get to the man inside––who braked again, attempting to throw Neil off. It only succeeded in swinging the wolf around, so that his legs hung over the front of the car and one knee cracked the windscreen.

  Snarling, Neil continued to pull away pieces of the roof, like a child tearing wrapping off a Christmas present. The man was trying to open his driver’s side door, but it was jammed, forcing him to go for the passenger side instead.

  He just about got out as Neil ploughed his way in, the man crawling away back into the alley. Neil clambered out again through the roof and waited for the hunter to get to his feet. The man half-turned as Neil leaped on him, pinning him to the ground. He let out a cry but refused to show any fear.

  “Go on!” he screamed into Neil’s face. “Do it, you monster!” It wasn’t the wisest thing to say when you had a werewolf towering over you. “Do it so I can be with Tammy again.”

  Neil was about to sink his teeth in when he paused…

  Tammy? What was the guy talking about? He sniffed at the man, sucking up who he was, why he was here. Neil looked around, seeing the flowers the man had left on the ground not far away, and everything slotted into place.

  That night, that last night he’d been out with the lads––the girls, the red-head, brunette and:

  Tammy.

  Tammy with her blonde hair, arms outstretched so Adrian and Owen could feast on her, then the rest could later. Tammy, who had lied about her age to get into those clubs in the first place. Tammy, who was only fifteen, but had always looked much older. And they’d taken her life away: she’d only led half of one anyway. Tammy, the (strawberry) blonde girl who’d had Julie’s face in that alley.

  Now Neil saw this man in front of him, really saw him. Her father, being given the news that she’d disappeared. He was the only parent she’d had, after her mother died of cancer when Tammy was just five. So he’d searched for her, all over the place––quitting his job and living on savings, picking up track
ing skills as he went. They’d created this hunter (you reap what you sow, right? reap what you…), and he’d finally stumbled on the truth years later. An ageing rocker who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, telling stories about wolves and killings to impress his druggie friends. They hadn’t believed a word, but––on hearing those rumors––the hunter had. He’d put two and two together, gone back and worked out that Jack had been around the same time Tammy––

  A bit more digging, and he had a few more names. He had Owen’s, a policeman (so no point going back to them). But what he could do was use the man to get the whole pack before the next full moon. Get them, and anyone else mixed up with them. Anyone like:

  Julie.

  A single tear ran from the wolf’s eye, and the father frowned. Neil morphed back into human form, his shoulder still a mess, neck still red-raw. “There was no need for any of… I ended all this a long time ago.”

  The man said nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” said Neil, letting the hunter drop and getting up. “But I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me who killed your daughter.” Though God knows, he’d killed enough of other people’s. Now this man had taken Neil’s friends from him (if he could still call them that), had taken Julie too, and his son––who hadn’t even been given half a chance at life.

  But they’d taken Tammy first, they’d taken the one thing that really mattered in this man’s life. In spite of everything, could Neil really kill him?

  “Go on, get out of here,” he snapped.

  As with most things in his life, though, the decision was taken out of Neil’s hands. Neil was ready to just let him go––regardless of the fact he might still come after him once this time of the month was over. Regardless of the hunger for blood this hunter had stirred up inside him.

  But the father got up and rushed Neil, drawing the knife that had probably done for Adrian when he was ‘mugged’. Neil acted instinctively as it arced down towards his back, twirling and transforming at the same time (it didn’t take him by surprise this time; he enjoyed it).