Werewolves of Soho

by Amy Cross

  After heading down to the restaurant and eating so much that I feel I'm actually fit to burst, I eventually head out and down to the pub where I said I'd meet Matt DiMera. It feels strange, walking along the street and not feeling like everyone is looking down on me. I guess Matt has helped me in some ways. And although I don't trust him, I have to admit that so far he's been pretty helpful and I should at least hear him out. If it turns out that he's crazy, at least I'll be in a public place. It's not like he can pull a knife of anything; and if he does, I should be able to scream before he gets close to my throat.

  He's there before me, of course, sitting in the corner. As soon as I walk through the door, he comes over and offers to buy me a drink. Once we're sitting down, he asks about the hotel but finally he gets down to business.

  “As I said before, my name is Matt DiMera”. He takes a deep breath. “I'm with an agency that deals with certain types of problem in London, and one of these problems currently is werewolves. And... I think you might be able to help me. Am I right?”

  I stare at him for a moment. “I don't know,” I say. “What's your agency called?”

  He smiles. “I'm from Greystone. But I can't really tell you very much about that. What I can tell you is that I have the power to make it very much worth your while to help me with a particular problem that we're having”.

  I look across the room. There are a few customers sitting around, staring into their beers. This certainly doesn't seem like the kind of place where top secret operations would be discussed.

  “How do I know you're not bullshitting me?” I ask.

  He nods, as if he's been expecting this question. The faintest of smiles crosses his lips, just enough to tell me that he knows he can prove his credentials. “What time is it?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I don't know,” I say.

  He checks his watch, and shows me. “Five to seven, right?”

  I nod.

  “Good. Now look out the window”.

  I look out the window, but all I see are a few buildings and, in the distance, Big Ben.

  “Give me a number between one and ten,” he says.

  I think about it for a moment. “Five,” I say.

  He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number. “It's me,” he says. “She says five”.

  I frown as he puts the phone away, and then suddenly Big Ben's bell rings. Then it rings again. Then again. And again. And then a fifth time. And then it falls silent.

  “Impressive,” I say. “Obviously you have connections in the bell industry”.

  “What I don't have,” he says cautiously, “is an established relationship with Duncan. I know you've met him. And I need your help to capture him”.

  I look down at my drink for a moment. “To be honest,” I say, “you're not the first person who's wanted my help to capture a werewolf. And -”

  “Frank Marshall was an idiot,” Matt says. “I knew him. The guy was a fucking moron. But people are dying here. Five, six people a week. And Duncan's responsible. You might think that's cute, but I can't have him running around slaughtering people. The press already think there's a serial killer on the loose, can you imagine their reaction if they found out that their serial killer is actually a werewolf?”

  “Duncan doesn't kill people,” I say, realizing instantly that I've just accidentally admitted that I know what Matt's talking about. I take a deep breath. “He only kills weak and ill people who are in pain. He does them a favor”.

  “Really?” Matt says. He stares at me for a moment, then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a photo, which he passes to me. “Is that what he told me?”

  I stare at the image for a moment, not sure what it shows, and then suddenly I realize: it's a dead baby with horrific injuries to one side of its face. I quickly pass the photo back to him. “What the fuck is that?” I ask.

  “Charles Denver Rotherham,” Matt says. “Four days old. Snatched from a children's hospital nearby, witnesses reported a wolf seen in the building. The baby was found two streets away, mauled to death”. He puts the photo away. “His parents are inconsolable, and they want answers. I have a dozen more like this, ranging in age from four days to eighty years old. All connected by one thing: mauled to death by a werewolf”.

  “You don't know it was Duncan,” I say. I can't believe Duncan would do this. Although I only met Duncan a couple of times, he was clearly not a ruthless killer. Something about Matt's story doesn't add up, even if I'm not quite sure yet what's wrong.

  “I do know it was Duncan,” he replies. “Categorically, yes I do. I have definitive proof that a werewolf was responsible for these deaths, and I have definitive proof that there is only one werewolf in London”. He fixes me with a determined, firm stare. “I have to take him out. This kind of shit can't be allowed to go down here, do you understand? We can't have a rogue werewolf loose in the city?”

  My feet are starting to itch; I need to get out of here. I remember the last time someone wanted my help to capture Duncan, and that didn't end well at all.

  “I promise I won't kill him,” Matt says. “I just need to get him out of London and return him to his ancestral home in Scotland. After that, the rest of his pack can take care of him. It's not really any of my business once I've got Duncan out of the city”. He stares at me. “I understand that this is just his natural behavior. It's his instinct. But it can't be allowed to happen in London. I've already got reports of a wolf being seen. Two days ago, on the Underground, a wolf jumped up onto a platform in full view of more than a hundred passengers. You think that's a coincidence?”

  “I can't help you,” I say, swallowing hard.

  “You can,” he replies. “But I can't force you to do it. Please consider it, though. You'd undoubtedly be saving many lives, and like I said, I won't kill him, I'll merely return him to his pack”. He flashes the photo of the dead child at me again. “Werewolves aren't supposed to do things like this. Duncan isn't stable. He's losing his mind, because werewolves were never supposed to live in big cities. We need to get him back to where he belongs. It would be kinder to him if you help me. He doesn't belong here. He shouldn't be in London, the city is driving him mad”.

  The city driving someone mad? Hah! I know the feeling! I stand up, leaving my drink half-finished. “I have to get to work,” I say.

  “Think about it,” he replies.

  “I've thought about it,” I say. “The answer is no, and I have to get to work. I won't help you”.

  “I'll get him anyway,” Matt says.

  I turn and walk away, heading out of the pub. I have no doubt that Matt DiMera will go after Duncan, but I also know that Duncan is more than a match for most people. As for me, I have more important things to do. I don't want to become involved in some stupid war with a werewolf. Walking into the sex club for another 14 hour shift, I feel like I just want to forget that werewolves even exist. I want to lose myself in a seedy world with its own rules. Down here, in the club, all that crap about werewolves is something completely forgettable. Tonight, I'm not even me.

  Duncan

  My wounds still healing, I drag my body slowly through the early morning streets of London. I have been in many fights in my lifetime, but never any as damaging as this. It feels as if my body has almost been torn to pieces, as if I have passed the point of mere injury and have come close to death. At least I am alive. I breathe slowly, and with a little pain, but the fact that I breathe at all is something of a miracle. I have never before valued my life so clearly.

  Although I stick to back alleys and quiet roads, I still run into the occasional human. Fearful of wolves, they stay back and just let me pass. Good choice. I'm in so much pain right now, I feel sure I would snap at them if they came close. The wounds are not fatal, but they are slowing me down. I just have to hope I have time to recover before I am found again. And the last thing I need is to have to deal with humans.

  It's rare for me to be out during the daylight. I usually stick to t
he shadows, or I assume my human form. But becoming human right now would be a terrible choice, because people would see my injuries and they'd rush to help me. I can't handle that attention, so I'd rather stay in my wolf form. At least this way I can hopefully stagger to safety with the minimal level of fuss.

  Eventually I reach a derelict office building by the river, a place I have used before. Since the economic crisis hit, there have been plenty of these abandoned buildings, and I've made full use of them. Heading up to the top floor, I collapse and finally allow myself to shift into my human form. Now I can truly inspect the damage, and it seems it is worse than I thought: my right hip area is torn and twisted, and my right foot is broken in multiple places. It's a miracle I was able to walk at all; must have been the adrenaline, which is starting to wear off. The pain is becoming more intense.

  I lay on the floor, struggling to breathe. There must be some way for me to recover faster than usual, but for now I feel as though I am trapped in a damaged body that will not support me. And I'm so tired. Sleeping is the best way to heal, so I close my eyes and feel my drained body start to ebb away. I know that when I wake up, I will be better. Not fully healed, but better. And then I will have to start dealing with the problem, because I can't take this level of punishment again. I have to find a solution.

  When I first came to London, I thought I could leave all my problems behind. I never believed other werewolves would follow me here, or that they would be so determined to kill me. I thought I could escape the constant battles and territorial fights, but they just come to me stronger than ever. By trying to distance myself from the rest of the pack, I have made myself something of a target.

  Calm now, I can feel my bones already starting to knit back together. The healing process has begun, and within a few hours I should be back to normal. Nevertheless, I can't remember the last time someone damaged me so badly. Living in London, away from other werewolves, I very rarely encounter someone who is strong enough to cause me problems. I usually just brush them aside, but this time I am faced with someone whose strength is greater even than my own. How do I deal with such a danger?

  I should keep away from humans, but this time there is one person who might be able to help me.

  Jess

  I finish my second shift at the club and emerge once more at around 10am. I'm so tired, I feel I could break, and I only have 10 hours before I have to be back for yet another shift. I look down at the £50 in my hand. It's not much money to show for an entire night's work plus a cleaning job in the morning. Still, it's more than I could make anywhere else at the moment. Pocketing the money, I head down the street toward the hotel, grateful that I don't really have to worry about what to do all day. I just need to sleep.

  I've missed breakfast, so I head straight up to the room. I half expect to find that the key-card no longer works, that my refusal to help Matt means that I've lost the room. But the door opens and I find that everything is as I left it, and a maid has even been in to clean up. I guess Matt has left the room for me to use for the whole week, as he promised, in an attempt to try to change my mind. Damn, I'm going to miss this hotel when the time comes to move out. It's certainly tempting to try to help Matt, to see if he'll give me a few more days' help, but that would only be a quick fix. What I really need is some money, so that I can get back on my feet. Maybe if Matt had offered cash for helping him, I'd have been more willing to try.

  Then again, I sold out Duncan once before, and that didn't go too well. As hard as it might be, I feel like this time I have to hold firm and stick to my principles.

  As soon as the door is locked, I get undressed, grab some crisps from the mini-bar and go to bed. I'm exhausted and I quickly fall asleep, dreaming of Duncan. At first in the dream, we're walking through London and talking, but later he throws me down onto a bed and climbs on top of me. Half human, half wolf, he holds me down and we kiss as he slowly runs his fingers all over my body, finally entering me, and I gasp as it goes deeper than any man has ever gone before. Then he starts to fuck me, thrusting slowly but rhythmically as I wrap my legs around him. Finally I feel him finish inside me.

  I open my eyes, and it's late afternoon. Rich, low sunlight is streaming through the curtains and the clock by the bed tells me it's 16:20. I guess I've been asleep for about six hours, dreaming about making love to Duncan. After staring at the ceiling for a moment, I decide I still have a couple of hours before I have to get up so I slowly reach my hand inside my underwear and start to touch myself.

  “Bad dream?” asks a voice in the room.

  I sit bolt upright, and see Duncan standing near the foot of the bed, smiling slightly.

  “You were tossing and turning,” he says. “It looked like you were having a nightmare. I didn't want to interrupt, 'cause it kind of looked like you were enjoying it”.

  I look around the room. “How did you get in here?” I ask.

  “I'm a werewolf,” he says. “I don't respect physical boundaries. I travel with the light and I arrive on the breeze”. He laughs. “That, and I used an old credit card to force your door open”.

  I sit there staring at him, the bed-sheet pulled up around me. “What do you want?” I ask, worried that Matt DiMera could come storming in at any moment. That, and being around Duncan in general tends to be a dangerous past-time.

  “First, I wanted to apologize,” he says. “Last time I saw you, I was a little quick to leave. I had things to do, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry”.

  “It's okay,” I say. “I'm fine”.

  “I can see that,” he replies, looking around the room. “Nice place you've got here. You're obviously doing okay for yourself”.

  I pause, not sure what to say. “I'm doing okay,” I say.

  He stares at me for a moment. “I need you to do me a favor,” he says eventually. “I wouldn't ask, but it's kind of important. I'm not... I've never really asked anyone for a favor before, so I'm not sure how to do it”.

  “Okay,” I reply. “Just tell me what you want”.

  “You saw Matt DiMera yesterday,” he says. “You talked to him, about me. I suppose he probably put you up in this hotel, and he probably told you things about me, and asked about me. Is that right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He tracked me down”.

  “He told you that I'm dangerous,” Duncan says.

  I nod. “He said you killed children and...” My voice trails off. “He made you sound like a monster. He had a photo of this kid...”

  “Did you believe him?” Duncan asks, his eyes fixed on me.

  “No,” I say, surprising myself by how quickly I respond. “I mean, he didn't show me any proof or anything”. I think back to that photo. “Sure, there was a photo, but there was nothing to link it to you”.

  “You trust me, then,” Duncan says. “Thank you”.

  I shrug, not really sure what to say.

  Duncan looks away for a moment. “That child probably was killed by a werewolf, but I had nothing to do with it. There's something else in London,” he says finally, turning back to me. “There's another werewolf. A very big and nasty one, completely insane. I need you to go to this Matt DiMera person and tell him, because I don't think he's going to work it out by himself. I need you to tell him that he has to look elsewhere. If he focuses on me, he'll miss the real problem. Matt thinks he can handle me, which is possible, but he can't handle this other creature. It's... I don't quite know, but I'm not sure it's quite normal”.

  “Well... no,” I say, “it can't be normal, can it? It's a fucking werewolf”.

  “Werewolves are normal to me,” Duncan says. “It's humans who are weird”. He smiles. “But no, this werewolf is something else. I can't explain it, I don't really understand it, but he's filled with such rage, and he's so strong”.

  “Stronger than you?” I ask.

  Duncan sighs. “He's not just a werewolf. He has some other strength, and it's too much for me to deal with alone. So you have to persuade Matt DiMera that he h
as to help”.

  “How can I do that?” I ask.

  “I don't know,” Duncan says. “I guess we just have to hope that he's reasonable and that he's willing to consider things from a different angle”.

  “And if he's not?”

  Duncan sighs. “I certainly won't leave London,” he says. “I can't. My master would never allow it, even if it might save my life”.

  “You keep talking about this master of yours,” I say. “Who is he? Why is he your master, what power does he have over you?”

  “You wouldn't understand,” Duncan snaps back.

  “Try me”.

  “No”.

  “Can I meet him?”

  Duncan shakes his head. “It's not possible”. He stares at me with an intense look in his eyes.

  “I don't want to get caught up in your battles,” I say firmly. “You and Matt DiMera, whatever your problem is, it's not my problem. Okay?”

  Duncan smiles faintly. “Just deliver this message to him. Tell him that there's another werewolf in London. Tell him to look in Whitechapel, I think that's where the other wolf spends most of its time. That's all I ask of you”.

  “Okay,” I say slowly. “But after this, I'm done. No more involvement, do you understand? I'm not your fucking messenger pigeon, got it?”

  Duncan nods, then he turns to walk away and I notice that he's limping badly. I get out of bed, still holding the sheet around myself. “What happened to you?” I ask.

  He reaches the door, opens it and looks back. “I got in a fight,” he says. “But you should see the other guy”. He pauses. “Actually, no. Don't do that. The other guy was bigger and stronger, and didn't get hurt at all. Don't see him, it'd make me look bad”. He coughs heavily, like he's sick.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He nods. “I need to go and wash myself. I stink of human, it's disgusting. No offense”.