by Foz Meadows
Solace was about to ask Jess if her brother's weirdness had manifested in childhood or if it was the product of later psychological issues when a sonorous booming started to issue from the kitchen. As neither Jess nor Electra was startled by this – and as, in fact, Electra promptly stood up and headed towards it – Solace concluded that the noise was both familiar and benign, if startling to the uninitiated. Puzzled, she turned to Jess. ‘What is that?’
‘Nobody told you? Evan found a baby dinosaur wandering the streets. We keep it chained under the sink as a garbage disposal unit. We haven't used it lately, though, so he must be getting hungry. His name's Dimitri.’
Caught off guard, Solace blinked. ‘Really?’
Jess frowned. ‘No, you moron – someone's at the door! Who is it, Lex?’ This last to Electra.
‘Me!’ sang out a familiar voice.
It was Paige. Waving, she followed Electra back through the kitchen and into the lounge, where she proceeded to drape herself comfortably over a broken-down armchair, flipping threads of purple hair out of her eyes.
‘Hey, Jess. Hey, Solace. Where're the guys? Out?’
‘Upstairs. Drawing on Glide.’
‘Cool.’ Paige stretched luxuriously, wiggling her fingers. She was wearing a pale yellow T-shirt bearing the legend dancing pandas! directly above a cavorting cartoon conga-line of the promised species. ‘They going to be long? Only we're having a kind of impromptu picnic-party-thing down in Hyde Park. You know: rugs, cheap wine, a little music, a little mockery of the corporate set trying to reconnect with nature during their half-hour lunch. Also, we're going to chip in five bucks apiece if Tryst can catch an ibis. Fun for the whole family.’
‘Ibis? We're catching an ibis?’ From upstairs, Evan poked his head over the banister nearest Glide's room. ‘Awesome!’
Despite having welcomed a nocturnal life with open arms, Solace was shocked to realise how little sunlight she'd seen in the past two weeks. Normally, her dizziness didn't kick in for at least forty minutes, but now the effect was like being hit with a sledgehammer, blurring her vision from almost the moment Paige led them outside. Her thoughts were veering in an uncomfortable direction: that if an aversion to daylight really was integral to her vampire nature, then being – for lack of a better term – less vampiric was something she'd have to work at. Actively. Assuming that's what you really want, muttered the Vampire Cynic, but for once Solace felt treacherously disinclined to agree. Bleached skin or not, she liked the sun – or, more importantly, the freedom to walk about under it without bursting into flames.
‘Note to self,’ she mumbled, ‘get more vitamin D.’
‘You okay?’ asked Evan with indecent cheerfulness. He was, it seemed, still flush with the novelty of having drawn on Glide, who had managed to remain asleep throughout the entire process and was subsequently now covered in intricate illustrations of pheasants, if Manx was to be believed. ‘You're swaying a bit.’
Solace shook her head. ‘I'm fine. It's just the sun. I get dizzy easily.’
‘Oh.’ He shrugged, accepting it, and changed the subject. ‘Nice outfit, by the way. My sister help?’
‘Yes,’ said Solace, blushing only a little. After her first night at the Gadfly, Electra and Jess had banded together to find her some new clothes amongst their old ones. With their help, she'd selected mostly blacks and reds, the kind of things Mrs Plumber and Miss Daisy would have frowned upon. She was hardly on par with Laine, but nonetheless secretly thrilled to be choosing her own things. Today, she'd dressed in her old boots, a reddish satin skirt fringed in burgundy lace and a fitted black singlet beneath an ageing leather jacket so large that her hands were lost in the sleeves. This last was merited despite the sun: for all the sky was periwinkle blue, the air was verging on chill, even more so in the shade.
‘Cool,’ said Evan. Then he paused, studying her with an expression of unusually appreciative clarity. ‘Anyway, it suits you.’ And before she could answer, he tipped her a wink and sauntered ahead again.
‘Flattering wretch,’ Solace muttered, but her eyes sparkled.
By the time they reached Hyde Park, she was finding it difficult to put one foot in front of the other, despite having shrugged off further offers of help from both Manx and Electra. Just as she was on the brink of giving in, she spotted Harper waving them over to the shade of a particularly large and ancient tree. Calling a quick hello, she made a beeline for the tree trunk, and with a sigh, slumped heavily down against it. With pleased relief, she surveyed the spread. As advertised, there were picnic rugs (helpfully weighed down against the breeze by several wine casks, and to one side, a portable stereo playing the Dandy Warhols), several barbecue chickens, a bowl of potato salad, plastic cups and people, all of whom, Solace was delighted to realise, she knew. Helping herself to a drumstick, she took a bite and waved the remainder at Tryst, catching his attention rather successfully.
‘So. Caught the ibis yet?’
Tryst laughed. He was a sociable type: tall, brown-haired and brown-eyed, with an infectious sense of humour. From where he was crouched, he tucked his fists against his chest and made his elbows flap, all the while making a disconsolate ibis-honk.
‘That means no,’ he called out. Solace giggled.
Once she'd recovered from her time in the sun, the afternoon proved exceptionally pleasant. For the first time since seeing her at the Gadfly, she managed a proper chat with Laine, who, it turned out, was both softly wry and fiercely intelligent – or at least, that was the impression she made on Solace. Jess, Electra, a blonde called Claire and a brunette called Phoebe plaited long blades of grass into one another's hair, then fell, shrieking with laughter, into a short-lived game that consisted of trying to wipe as much sap and chlorophyll residue as possible onto each others’ faces. Tryst almost caught an ibis, but was thwarted at the last moment by a flying tackle from Evan. In an almost preternatural display of nimbleness and dexterity, Paige stole Harper's wine, clamped the edge of the plastic cup between her teeth and shimmied up the ancient tree without spilling so much as a drop, whereupon she clambered out onto a prominent branch and downed the lot. It was, in short, a glorious, silly, wonderful afternoon, and as the setting sun threw bright gold ribbons glancing through the foliage, Solace felt something in her heart twist. She'd done nothing more spectacular than play tag, climb trees, roll down the grassy slope with Jess and Paige, laze in the sun, drink alcohol, laugh, talk, eat; and yet it was beautiful, the best day she'd ever had. No matter what happened, the memory of it would be hers, forever. She felt her throat tighten.
‘More wine?’
It was Manx. Obligingly, Solace made room for him to sit – which he did – but shook her head at the cask, which dangled loosely from an outstretched hand.
‘Maybe later.’
Shrugging amiably in the manner of your loss, my gain, Manx poured himself a generous cupful and took a long draught, studying Solace's face sidelong as she, oblivious, watched the city. Her fingers twitched on the picnic blanket. Hesitantly, Manx reached over and squeezed her hand. Startled at the sudden contact, Solace jerked her head around before meeting Manx's mismatched eyes. He smiled crookedly and winked at her. Solace laughed and squeezed back self-consciously. For a while, the two of them sat like that, content on the edge of a tartan rug as Sydney moved around them. Eventually, however, Manx broke the contact, leaning back on his arms to speak.
‘Those surveys we did today,’ he said, carefully. ‘We both took a while to finish.’
‘Yeah. They were pretty crazy. Fun, though.’
‘Mm.’ He seemed to be considering something, mulling it over. Solace waited. Since moving into the warehouse, she'd spent most nights in Manx's bed, mostly because his was the most comfortable mattress. They weren't lovers, or partners, or people who technically were one or the other but claimed to be just friends – they genuinely were friends, and slept side by side as innocently as kittens, with only marginally less kicking, biting and affectionate swiping a
t around 4 am. Even without a sexual aspect, being so close to another person was a new experience for Solace, heady and scary and wonderful all at once. And yet, for all that, she knew very little about Manx; as little, in fact, as he really knew about her. Until today, their understanding had been silent, intuitive, unaided by explanation.
Biting ruefully at the inside of his cheek, Manx exhaled sharply and tilted his head back, so that he was watching the sky. The corner of one eye flickered.
‘Solace,’ he said, ‘I can turn into a cat. A big cat. Not a panther or a lion or anything. Just a big. Damn. Cat.’ He straightened his neck again, facing her. ‘I'm told it's very intimidating, if you're drunk.’
‘That's… weird,’ said Solace, trying to imagine the sight and failing quite spectacularly. She'd braced herself for a revelation, but whatever she'd been expecting, this wasn't it.
‘I mean,’ he continued, ‘what would be so wrong with a leopard? Even an ocelot – I know they're small, but at least they look, you know, respectable. But a big house cat? That's just cruel and unusual.’ He glanced at her. ‘I think I understand why I don't shrink – distribution of mass, or whatever – but that doesn't explain why I'm just a bigger version of something small.’
Solace blinked. ‘Manx. You're trying to rationalise shape-shifting, a supposedly mythical process wherein you change species. If there's an explanation for what any of us can do, you and I included, then I doubt it has anything to do with commonsense, let alone the laws of physics. Or at least, the laws of physics as currently understood by normal people.’
He sighed. ‘I know. I just wish I was fierce.’
Solace smiled, toying with the empty cup in her hand. ‘So that's why you're called Manx - after a cat breed.’
‘Pretty much. I mean, I have a tail when I change, I'm not an actual manx. I just like the sound of it. It's more interesting than Matthew.’
Silence flickered between them. For a moment, Solace worried he'd change the subject, but after some moments had ticked by, he began talking again, more slowly than before.
‘It's… uncomfortable to change, less so to change back. The longer I stay a cat, the more I start to think like one. I don't know why. Even when I'm human, my hearing and eyesight are sharper than normal. I can –’ he grinned, briefly, ‘– talk to cats, and you'd be surprised by how interesting that really is. I mean, it is interesting. Cats get around. They see lots of things that people think nobody knows.’ He dropped his gaze and when he looked back again, his voice had quietened. ‘I found out when I was seven. The first time I changed, I almost couldn't come back. My parents are old-school Catholic. They thought I was possessed, tried to have me exorcised.’ He laughed, softly and without humour. ‘Eventually, I ran away. Found Electra when I was sixteen. Or maybe she called me. Jess told you about her Trick?’
Solace nodded, hardly daring to move, lest he change the subject. Around them, twilight flickered like a fading candle, sputtering sparks as the streetlights switched on. Manx plucked idly at a blade of grass, twirling it as he spoke.
‘She was twelve. I found her in an alley. Some people were attacking her, saying she'd stolen their things. Well, what she does isn't stealing, not really. We've figured out now that it needs to be lost, but it used to just arrive. She'd want, and the thing would come. And this one time, she'd wanted something pretty. Her family was poor, she was young. It was wishful thinking. Sure enough, a gorgeous necklace arrives, all silver and sapphires. It looked – it was – valuable. She almost got rid of it on the spot.’ He sighed. ‘The first day she wore it, a man claiming to be the original owner saw her, said she must've stolen it. He was a neighbour. Well-known. When Electra didn't give it back, he started spreading lies at the local pub, saying she was a burglar. People believed him.’
‘Why didn't she just hand it over?’
Manx shook his head. ‘Fear, I guess. She still didn't understand what she was doing, how she was doing it. Giving the necklace back would've been like confessing to being something she wasn't. Even the man admitted the necklace had been lost for years; it was just pure bad luck that he recognised it. It wasn't even as if he could prove it was his, you know?’ He laughed, angry.
‘One day, he and some other idiots cornered her. He'd got them liquored up, convinced that she'd been robbing them for years. She was poor, he was older and his mob was drunk. They were shouting, waving stuff at her. Like a witch hunt. I was a couple of streets over when I heard the yelling. Didn't even think; just changed shape and charged, fur up, claws out. Everyone screamed and ran off, thank God. Electra was pretty shaken up by it all – me, as well as them. Once they'd gone, I changed back, tried to calm her down. We both explained what had happened; we left together. Ended up here a few years back. There were others at first, but they wandered away. We probably freaked them out. Ran into Jess and Evan at the Gadfly; don't remember when, but a while ago. And here we all are.’
‘And Glide? Where'd he come from?’
Manx scratched the side of his nose and shrugged.
‘Glide just… turned up. One day we had a spare room – several, actually – and the next minute, Glide was living in one of them, mattress, crud and all. I'm still not sure what his deal is. I'm fairly certain he knows what we are, and as far as anyone can make out, he's like us, too. To be honest, I've never really asked. But I do know his dreams are vivid.’
Solace frowned. ‘How?’
‘He talks, sometimes. In his sleep. Different languages. Some I can recognise, some I can't. Truth be told, I've listened in more than once. He even muttered a bit today, when Evan and I were drawing on him. He's normal otherwise. For a given value of normal.’
He fell silent. Solace sat for a moment, taking everything in. Despite having come to terms with her own weirdness, Manx's unexpected honesty had both touched and confronted her. As he watched from the corner of one eye, she realised that it was her turn to speak, and that, what's more, she'd known all along what she was going to say.
‘I'm a vampire,’ she announced bluntly. ‘Or the nearest practical equivalent.’ Haltingly, she told him about her abilities, about finding the Gadfly, even recounting the story of Kelly and the table. She did not, however, mention the faceless man in the alley, whose presence had so unnerved her. Throughout her rambling narrative, Manx listened attentively, letting Solace speak on uninterrupted until, quite suddenly, there was nothing left to say, and night had fallen. Behind them, the opening chords of ‘Bohemian Like You’ filled the air, accompanied by plastic crackles as Tryst and Claire discreetly cleared away rubbish. Sensing a Deep and Meaningful in progress, the others had let Manx and Solace talk in relative privacy – relative, in that Evan and Jess had both strolled slowly past, grinning in their direction, while Paige had speculated loudly as to their reasons for sitting alone; private, in that no one had actually overheard anything. It was an occasionally frustrating compromise, but workable.
‘You know,’ said Manx, when Solace was done, ‘I wish I knew why people like us existed. I mean, I get why we stay secret – that's only commonsense – but there's got to be some, some reason for everything.’
‘You mean, like… God?’
‘Maybe.’ Manx shrugged, suddenly awkward. ‘Just because my parents were wrong about me, that doesn't mean they're wrong about everything else, you know?’
Solace opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it. What do I believe in? It was strange to realise she didn't know. Instead, she reached across and tentatively took Manx's hand. Flashing a grateful half-smile, he squeezed her palm again, leaving Solace wondering how physical contact could so simply convey so much.
‘Hey!’ called Evan, finally breaking the moment. ‘We still on for tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow? What's on tomorrow?’ asked Paige, before Solace could answer. Evan poked out his tongue at her.
‘Secret warehouse business! Only those in the know may know, you know?’
‘Pssht!’ Paige waved a dismissive hand and
turned back to Harper. As Evan was still waiting, Manx flipped him a thumbs-up. Evan grinned, nodded and went back to rubbish duty.
‘Guess we're going ahead with it, then.’ Manx exhaled. ‘You never know. Something interesting might happen.’
‘Maybe,’ said Solace, but inside, the Vampire Cynic was oddly cautious.
Interesting isn't the same as safe.
Solace dreamed. Around her was darkness – not the black of a night sky, which has an open clarity, but the obfuscating, cobweb-oppression of shadow. Uncertainly, she walked forward. Her feet were bare, and the dream was sensory: asphalt pinched the soles of her feet, sometimes crumbling into the sharp asymmetry of individual rocks. A road, then. Momentarily, something grey flickered alongside her vision, there and gone like a wisp of smoke. The cause of it wasn't clear, but something in the action jogged her recent memory.
The alleyway. As if the act of naming were an invocation, parts of the surrounding dark resolved themselves into lighter shadows – walls, bins, guttering – until her observation was made fact. The nape of her neck tingled. Solace felt her breath catch. She was too close, she realised – the faceless man was here, and she was too close. Unable to turn, she tried to walk backwards, but each step was like trying to free a gumboot stuck knee-deep in mud, slow and ineffectual.
From farther up the alley came the sound of dry laughter, like a skitter of autumn leaves. Solace felt the pulse leap in her throat. It was the faceless man, but this time, even his silhouette was invisible, so that all she knew of his presence was a measured, steady footfall and his rasping mirth. She struggled anew to free herself, but the faceless man came on, closer and closer, until it seemed that any moment he would step free of whatever force shrouded him, whole and terrible.
But the revelation never came. Instead, he stopped what felt like a scant metre from Solace, near enough that the sound of his breathing skirled around her in a rank breeze. She'd never been so terrified, but now her legs wouldn't even twitch, remaining as motionless as if she'd turned to marble from the heart down.