by M. V. Stott
Carlisle walked the streets until he found a place that felt right. He reached into his coat and pulled out a piece of white chalk. He stepped towards a red brick wall—the outside of an ordinary building—and drew the outline of a door. Having done that, he placed the chalk back into his coat and placed the palm of one pale hand against the rough brick at the centre of the pretend door.
‘I request access,’ he said, and forced magic into the door’s chalk outline. Satisfied, Carlisle lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. For twelve hours he sat, he waited, he did not open his eyes. Even when people began to drop change at his feet, taking him for a beggar, Carlisle remained perfectly still, eyes shut, and concentrated on the rhythm of his breathing.
His chest expanded as he inhaled, and lowered as he exhaled, and that’s all he thought about for twelve hours. Just the simple act of inhaling and exhaling. Of his lungs inflating and deflating. A hypnotic cycle that rolled on and on and on.
Finally, his concentration was broken by a polite cough.
Carlisle opened his eyes and spun on his rear end to face the source of the cough.
He was stood in a doorway. A doorway that had not existed before Carlisle drew it. He was a monk, dressed in billowing, brown sackcloth, a large stick—taller than the monk himself—gripped in one hand. Dangling from the stick were tiny bones, hanging from pieces of string. Carlisle recognised the bones as finger and toe bones. Human finger and toe bones.
Carlisle hopped up gracefully on to his feet and bowed. ‘Delighted to meet you,’ he said.
The Monk frowned, then sighed. ‘Come on then, if you’re coming.’ He turned and walked back into the doorway. Carlisle smiled and followed, the doorway disappearing as he did so, now just the side of a building with chalk lines drawn on it once more.
Derek Nolan’s eviscerated body had been found on Blackpool beach, his blood soaking into the sand, turning it a dark red. He had been murdered, according the records Rita snooped at, after she had met and taken Ben Turner into her own protective custody. Thanks to this forethought, and much to his relief, Ben did not have another death to add to his tally.
‘He wasn’t killed here,’ said Rita, as she made her way back to Ben from the taped-off area of the beach where Derek had been found.
‘How do you know that?’ asked Ben.
‘The way he was posed, looked like he’d been laid out to be found. And he was killed in the day, so if that amount of damage had happened to him on the beach, with the sun up, there’s a good chance someone would have spotted that, don’t you think?’
‘Right. Good point.’
They climbed into Rita’s car and set off for Derek’s house. Rita had been there once before, just a few days earlier, with Carlisle, whereupon they had discovered he was a wizard.
‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Ben, who had taken over driving duties.
‘Hm?’ replied Rita, glancing at him.
‘I haven’t known you long, but you always seem to be talking.’
‘Oi, are you calling me gobby?’
‘No. Well, a bit.’
Rita laughed. ‘Fair play, I do have a mouth on me. I was just thinking about a friend of mine called Carlisle. Well, not a friend exactly. Maybe an enemy, in a way. I dunno.’
‘Okay. Sounds… complicated.’
‘Hm. He did for me what I’m doing for you. He broke me into the Uncanny world, held my hand as I took my first few steps. And now he’s off God knows where looking for a way to kill an angel.’
Ben nodded thoughtfully. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Long story. Basically I’m hexed and there’s an evil angel trapped under the sea that we have to stop to, well, un-hex me. Carlisle is trying to sort that out. I think. Hopefully.’
‘So, you want to go back?’ asked Ben. ‘To your normal life?’
‘Of course. I mean, I think so, anyway. Don’t you?’
‘Yeah. But my situation is a bit different. I turn into a monster and kill people with my teeth.’
‘That is true, you definitely have it worse.’
Ben laughed, but it quickly passed. ‘He called me vermin, that monster back at Big Pins.’
‘Did you see the state of him? If anyone’s vermin…’
‘They were scared of me. Even that big bloke behind the bar. Scared of what I become. I don’t want to carry on if I have to stay like this.’
‘Woah now, less of that sort of talk.’
‘Rita, I won’t be a monster, okay? I won’t kill anyone else.’
Rita went to argue again, then caught sight of Ben’s eyes. He was right. She wouldn’t want to live a monster either. She patted him on the leg and turned the radio on. Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran was playing. Ben had to pull over as he and Rita burst into a hysterical fit of laughter that only passed after about five, tear-streaked, belly-aching minutes.
Rita had not known Derek Nolan well, and what’s more she hadn’t liked him at all, but he was still a person she knew who had been murdered. A face she recognised, a name she knew, a voice she could hear clearly in her head. Which brought the case closer to home. Made it feel more personal. She had only been rattling his cage the day before, and part of her wondered at that coincidence. Could her visit have prompted his murder somehow? Did this Magda Ben mentioned have eyes on her?
They drove past Derek’s house and found two police cars parked up outside, and several officers and forensics marching in and out of the place. They parked up on the next street so as not to arouse suspicion.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Ben.
‘I’m going to do my Miss Invisible bit and have a nose around. Those bods in the blue boiler suits tells me this is the murder scene.’
Rita went to step out of the car, then stopped. ‘You know, funny thing.’
‘What?’
‘So far, the only dead people are wizards.’
‘Well, Alan, the security guard, he wasn’t a wizard. Was he?’
‘No, but she didn’t kill him, you did.’
‘Thanks for the reminder.’
‘Let’s assume this woman, this Magda, killed the first wizard, and killed Derek, too. Well, she didn’t kill you. She turned you.’
‘So?’
‘And you’re not a wizard. Three attacks from her that we know of, and the two that were on wizards are fatal. You, she didn’t want to kill. You she wanted to turn. Maybe there’s a reason for that.’
‘Maybe she has something against wizards.’
‘We think so,’ said a third voice.
Rita and Ben turned to see a man leaning down to look in the car at them. He wore a snug, dark blue suit and had a pinched face.
‘Uh, who are you?’ asked Rita.
‘I’m Ulner, I’ve been looking for you,’ he replied, and then he clicked his fingers.
Rita blinked and found she was no longer sat in the passenger seat of her car, parked a street away from Derek Nolan’s house. Ulner had used magic to move her. She turned to find a bewildered Ben Turner still at her side.
‘What just happened?’ he asked.
Rita looked around and found she recognised where they had been taken. They were inside of a cave. There were no windows, no tunnels in or out, no entrances or exits of any kind, and gathered around the edges of the space were a variety of men, some dressed normally, some dressed in robes and other strange outfits. Wizards. It was the gathering spot for local wizards that she had visited once before, with Carlisle.
Ulner waved at her from his place amongst the gathered wizards.
‘You know this is an abduction?’ said Rita. ‘And the abduction of a police officer at that. Serious business, boys.’ Rita opened her coat and rested a hand on her magic axe.
‘You wanted to speak with us,’ said Ulner.
‘Yeah, about that. See, a normal person approaches another person and they agree to go somewhere together. That’s how it usually works, but I suppose you fellers aren’t
used to asking for permission, are you?’
The gathered wizards grumbled quietly to each other.
‘Sorry,’ said Ben, ‘but what’s happening now? I know everything is generally insane, but it would be nice to know.’
‘That was a wizard, and these are more wizards. The first wizard magicked us to this place, where all the local wizards meet up for a natter.’
‘Right.’
‘Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be scared about. That is correct, right?’ she asked the gathered crowd.
‘Of course,’ replied a wizard no taller than four feet, dressed in a robe with a collar that stood almost half his height.
‘I suppose you’ve heard about Derek Nolan, then?’ Rita asked.
‘We have,’ replied Ulner. ‘We believe that something impossible is happening.’
‘That more or less seems to be the case every hour these days,’ said Rita.
‘Do you know what a master werewolf is?’ asked Ulner.
‘Of course,’ said Rita, as if Formby hadn’t given her the gist of it only a couple of hours earlier. ‘There’s werewolves, and there’s master werewolves. The masters can control their wolfy-changing thing, and can turn others with a bite. That about it?’
The gathered wizards burbled their agreement.
‘So what’s the impossible bit?’
‘Werewolves, master or not, do not have access to magic. Should not be able to take down a wizard. It appears, somehow, that this one does and can.’
‘Right, and you’re all shitting yourselves, eh?’
Ulner looked down to the little wizard with the high collar, then back to Rita. ‘More or less.’
‘Look, no need to worry, your girl Rita is on the case. I already have a name and a description, and an eaves keeping his eyes and pointy ears open for me. I’ll solve the case.’
‘But how many more will die before you do?’ asked Ulner.
‘Look, if you have any way of helping out, believe me, I’m open to suggestions.’
‘Rita,’ said Ben.
‘Yep?’
‘I don’t… I feel wrong…’
Rita looked at Ben. His skin had turned pale, waxy.
‘What is happening? What is he?’ asked Ulner.
‘No one. A friend. It’s fine,’ said Rita, flapping a dismissive hand in Ulner’s direction as she put a hand to Ben’s shoulder. He was trembling. ‘Ben, what’s wrong?’ she whispered.
Ben bent over, gripping his stomach, sweat breaking out across his brow. ’I remember this… I remember this pain… last night.’
Rita took a step back. Last night? Last night had been a full moon, but that was last night, the four day full moon cycle was over, it couldn’t be a full moon again, not so soon.
‘Ben, I think you’re just having some sort of panic attack.’
But it was no panic attack. Ben fell to his knees and screamed, throwing his head back, his mouth now full of large, sharp teeth.
‘Werewolf!’ cried Ulner. ‘You bring that beast here!’
‘But, it’s not a full moon!’ said Rita. ‘How can he be changing?’
The cave was in chaos, Ben screamed in agony as his body bucked and tore, and his bones cracked.
‘Ben, stop, please stop.’
His screams made Rita shake.
The gathered wizards did not stay to attack, they fled, disappearing one by one until the cave faded from view and Rita found herself in a back alley, alone with the rapidly transforming Ben Turner.
She looked up into the darkening sky. The moon looked back.
‘That’s not right,’ said Rita. ‘That can’t be right.’
The moon was full again, for a fifth consecutive night, and Ben Turner was now a beast.
20
Watching someone turn into a giant, hairy, wolf-beast was not something Detective Rita Hobbes was about to forget in a long time. That is, if she managed to get out of the situation she found herself in without being killed horribly.
‘Ben?’
The thing Ben Turner had turned into had its back to Rita. It was down on its haunches, the dark, coarse hair of its bulging body showing through torn rags of clothing. Rita slowly took the axe from her belt and flexed her fingers around its wooden handle, trying to fool herself into believing she wasn’t terrified.
‘Ben, can you hear me?’
Ben Turner threw his head back, let loose a piercing, bone-shaking howl, and bolted from the alley.
‘Shit!’
Rita ran in pursuit. She had to keep up with him, but he was already out of view by the time she ran out into the street. They’d been deposited in town, and the street was busy with people on their nights out, weaving from pub to pub. Although Ben had already run out of sight, it was pretty easy for Rita to work out which direction he was heading in. All she had to do was follow the screams.
Gasping for air as she pounded after him, Rita wondered exactly what her plan was going to be if she caught him. Would she be able to sweet-talk him into being a nice doggie? That seemed unlikely, which made her only other option the axe in her right hand, and she really didn’t want to hurt Ben, or perhaps, even kill him. No, she didn’t want that at all.
There was chaos everywhere as she ran, shocked people scattering and screaming in the wake of the nightmare beast that had rushed past their disbelieving eyes. Many of them were no doubt already trying to reconcile what they’d seen with a story that their mind could make sense of.
Rita finally pulled to a stop, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. There was a low growl to her left. She stood up sharply and turned to the sound, axe gripped in both hands. It was an alleyway, its length shrouded in shadow.
‘Okay. Monster in a dark alley. Awesome.’
Rita took tentative steps into the alley.
‘Ben?’ said Rita, walking slowly down the alleyway, trying to will her eyes to pierce the dark that surrounded her and reveal the black bulk of the werewolf Ben had transformed into.
‘Here… boy…?’
Rita stopped as she reached the end of the alley. The dead end. There was nothing there but a brick wall blocking her way. No way out that end, so where was he?
A deep growl from above. Rita looked up to see two large, sodium-yellow eyes glowing in the dark. He’d clambered partway up a fire escape that clung to one side of the alleyway. To get back out of the alley, Rita would have to walk under and past him. Werewolf in front of her, solid wall behind her. Rita wasn’t in a great position, and her knees chose this moment to turn partially to jelly, just in case she was in any doubt as to how scary a situation she now found herself in. What had she been thinking, chasing after a murderous, mindless monster with giant claws and even bigger teeth? She’d been thinking of saving Ben. Of saving him from killing anyone.
Well, now it looked like he was going to kill her.
Ben dropped from the fire escape and rose up on his hind legs. He towered over Rita. Ben had been close to six foot before, but now, in his transformed state, he must have been closer to eight. Thick saliva hung in great strings from his hungry maw. Even in her terror, Rita found herself able to marvel at the creature looming before her.
‘Ben, it’s me. It’s Rita. You can hear me, can’t you? You recognise me.’
Ben took a step towards her, the claws on his feet scraping against the stone ground.
Rita stepped back, but she had nowhere to go, she was already almost pressed up against the dead end.
‘Ben, you’re not a monster. You don’t have to be. Fight it. Your name is Ben Turner. Ben Turner.’
There was no recognition in his eyes. Ben Turner wasn’t in there, only the beast.
He reached out a paw and Rita screamed, swatting it back with the axe, drawing blood with the blade. Ben growled and stepped back.
And then she felt it.
The axe, the one she’d taken after triggering the hex, it afforded her, its wielder, certain abilities. Each wielder got something different from the axe, fro
m the artefact. For Rita, it allowed her to rob some of the magic from anything Uncanny it touched. In this case, she’d drawn blood from a werewolf, and the axe had tasted Ben’s curse.
Normally, Rita could translate the magic that soaked into the axe. She could see it, taste it, smell it, understand it. She could conduct a conversation of sorts with it, and have it do as she demanded. But this magic, this was something different. Magic is there to be used, to be controlled, but not lycanthropy. Not the kind of changeling power that coursed through Ben Turner’s veins. That was a wild, dark, powerful magic with one purpose. To submerge. To control. It was not to be used, to be willed, to be given orders. No, this magic overwhelmed. Took over. Infected.
Rita fell to her knees, shaking, as the thing that Ben Turner had become stepped back, recognising instinctively what was happening. This was no longer food, this was a thing like him. This was family.
Rita fought. She wanted to drop the axe but her fingers wouldn’t let her, wouldn’t release. And even if they had, it was already too late. The magic was in her now. It was taking over. The full moon was high and it knew what it had to do.
Rita screamed and fell to one side, curling in a ball, shaking, sweating, her body in agony. It was tearing through her body, the magic, tearing through her mind. She could feel her sense of self, her thoughts, her memories, her desires being pushed away and away and new thoughts, new wants, blooming.
She looked at her hands, they sprouted thick hair before her eyes, her nails turning long and sharp and strong.
‘No!’
Ben threw his head back and howled with joy at the moon above.
Rita wanted to…
Wanted to run…
She just wanted to run.
She knew she could run forever and never get tired. She was so strong, so agile, so alive. The world around her was full of smells now, everything so potent, and she knew each smell.
Blood.
She could smell blood. It was close. Blood meant food meant flesh meant the kill.
She hopped up on to her feet. On her hind paws?