Werewolves of Soho

by Amy Cross

  I suddenly spot someone ahead of me. It's the man from last night, the one who was with the girl, the one with the dark stare. He's heading toward me, but I don't think he's seen me yet. I quickly turn and pretend to be looking at something in my pocket and after a minute I look up to find that he's gone past me. He must be heading to the locker. Time to get out of here.

  Jess

  The Bell and Lion pub is on the outskirts of Oxford. It's an old building, from the 17th or 18th century, and it models itself very much as Ye Olde Fashioned Pub. From the outside, it looks rather quaint and precious, to the extent that I'm almost reluctant to go inside. It's definitely not the kind of place I'd usually want to visit. Eventually, though, I decide it's my only choice. After spending most of the day on a train coming from London, I'm exhausted and I'm just ready to sleep. Besides, I don't have enough money to go anywhere else, and I need to make sure that Duncan can find me again.

  Entering the pub, I find that there's no-one about except for an old man polishing the pumps. I wander over to him.

  "What can I get you?" he asks, a friendly smile on his face. He seems like a jolly old man, with red cheeks and a big beer belly, a little bit like Santa doing his day job.

  "Nothing," I say, deciding to start by playing it cagey.

  "Nothing?" he asks, laughing. "Right, let me get this straight. You come to the pub with the best selection of real ales in the whole bloody country, and you want nothing?" He shakes his head. "Kids these days, got no bloody idea what's good."

  "Duncan sent me," I say.

  The man's smile vanishes. He glances around the room. "Come through to the back," he says, stepping to the main door and locking it, before leading me behind the bar.

  I follow him through to the back room, and he closes the door and checks the windows before turning to speak to me.

  "How do you know Duncan?" he asks. His tone is serious and straight-to-the-point.

  "We're friends," I say, although deep down I'm aware that this description doesn't really cover it.

  "Duncan doesn't have any friends," the man says, which is kind of believable based on what I know of Duncan so far.

  "We know each other," I insist.

  "Close enough," he says as he eyes me up cautiously. Clearly, he's suspicious, but I guess he wouldn't have invited me back here if he didn't think there was some chance that I could be genuine. Still, there's a big contrast between his earlier jolly appearance and his sudden seriousness. He's certainly not the kind of guy you'd mess around.

  "Where is Duncan, anyway?" he asks. "It's been years since I saw him."

  "He's on his way," I say. "He had something to do, but he told me to come here and wait for him. He said he'd be here in a couple of days."

  "He's still in London?" the man asks, seemingly surprised.

  I nod. "But he's on his way here. He said you'd let me stay until he arrives."

  The man nods. "Aye," he says. "I can do that. There's a spare room. But first, there's one thing I need to know." He stares at me, almost as if he's trying to see straight through me. "Are you one of them?"

  I pause. "Like Duncan?" I ask. "Yeah. He changed me recently."

  The man doesn't seem fazed by this at all. In fact, he seems to have been expecting me to say that.

  "Are you?" I ask.

  He laughs. "Me? Fuck, no. I'm no werewolf. Thank fuck." He reaches out a hand and we shake.

  "John Falstaff," he says. "Landlord of the Bell and Lion, and proud friend of the wolves. Well, some of 'em anyway. There's some that I wouldn't let through the door, but Duncan's welcome any time."

  "Thanks," I say. "It'll just be for a couple of days, until he gets here."

  "Aye," John says. "It'll be good to see him again."

  "My name's Jess," I say. "I can work for you, to pay for my room -"

  "No need for that," John replies. "If you've been spending time with Duncan, you could probably use a little rest right now. I'll sort out some food for you, you must be starving."

  I nod and, for the first time in days, I actually relax a little. It seems this John Falstaff guy has his heart in the right place, and I can handle a little rest before Duncan returns, which - let's face it - is probably going to bring a whole heap of new trouble.

  ***

  One week later, standing in my room upstairs in the pub, looking out the window at the fields and the spires of the city in the distance, a heavy, terrible realization hits me. It has now been over a week since I last saw Duncan, and I can't ignore the final words he spoke to me:

  "If I'm not there in a week, you have assume that I'm dead... There's no way I wouldn't come to find you. There's so much I have to tell you, to teach you. I'll come and find you, but if I don't, you know it's because I couldn't. And there's only one reason for that."

  If I believe him, if I do what he says, then I have to assume that he's dead. Don't I? He said he was going somewhere first, but that he'd catch up with me. And then I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and no-one chased me. I guess they all went after Duncan, in which case...

  What do I do? Do I go back to London and try to find him? Do I wait here? Do I accept that he's gone and just give up? And whatever I do, how can I support myself? After all, my job at the club in London is clearly gone, and I can't count on John Falstaff helping me, even though he's been great so far.

  Heading downstairs, I find John sitting alone behind the bar. It's a quiet pub, with barely any visitors during the day and just a handful in the evening. But John seems to like it that way, even if it means there's little likelihood of him needing any help with the customers.

  "Still no sign, then," he says, glancing up from his paper.

  "No," I say. "He told me that if he didn't arrive in a week, I should assume he's dead. Do you believe that?"

  John stares at me for a moment. "I believe that Duncan is smart, and trustworthy, and he knows what he's doing. If he says something, it's probably true."

  I nod, not sure what to say.

  "You can stay here as long as you like," he says. "You never know, maybe Duncan just got held up."

  "Maybe," I say, though I don't believe it for a second. If he could get here, he'd be here. If he was breathing, he'd be here. The fact that he's not here is ominous, and I have to assume that it's bad news. The worst news.

  "Wait for him," John says. "Just give him a little while longer. Give him one more night."

  "I should leave," I say. "Whatever Duncan had planned, it's obviously not working."

  "Where will you go?"

  I shrug. "I have no idea. Not back to London, that's for sure."

  After staring into space for a moment, I realize that John is watching me.

  "Where are your family, Jess?" he asks. "If you don't mind me asking."

  "They're..." I think about it for a moment. What do I say? How do I end this conversation quickly? "They're dead," I say, deciding to lie. "Car crash."

  "I'm sorry," he says.

  "It's fine," I reply, feeling bad for lying to him. But the truth is, there's no way I want to talk to him about my family.

  "Listen," he says, getting to his feet and hauling his bulk over so he can put an arm around my shoulders. "You hang on for one more day, and I guarantee you that Duncan will come strolling through the door. On two legs or four, he'll be here."

  I take a deep breath. "Okay," I say. I suppose it makes sense, and it'll give me time to come up with some other plan. I decide to try changing the subject. "So how did you meet Duncan?" I ask.

  John smiles. "I've helped werewolves on and off all through my life. I'm kind of an expert on them. You could say I wrote the spotter's guide to the damn things."

  I smile, but it's a forced, fake smile.

  "He'll be okay," John says. "He's used to looking after himself. He'll come waltzing through that door any day, and everything'll be just fine. He's been in worse scrapes than this, I promise."

  I nod. "I think I'll go for a walk," I say, and I head out the door.<
br />
  When I arrived here in Oxford, it never occurred to me that Duncan wouldn't be right behind me. He always seemed so certain, so cool, so expert at everything. Now, though, it seems that he might have got something wrong. Very wrong. And he might have paid with his life.

  ***

  Later that night, I wake up suddenly. It's still dark, and a quick glance at my watch reveals that it's just after 3am. I roll onto my side, ready to go to sleep again, when I hear something in the distance. It's only a small noise, like the sound of a car door being closed gently, but it's enough to get my attention. I listen out for more, and I realize I can hear footsteps outside. My heart racing, I sit up in bed, then I get up, put some clothes on and go out my bedroom door.

  I can instantly hear that there are voices downstairs. Three or four people are talking quietly. None of them sound like Duncan, so I sneak toward the top of the stairs and try to listen.

  "It'll be tax-free," I hear a male voice saying. "You don't need to worry about that."

  "And you won't kill her?" asks a male voice that I immediately recognize as John.

  "No," says the male voice. "Of course not."

  "And Duncan," says John. "What about him?"

  "I'm sorry," says the male voice. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that. Let's just say that the operation has been a complete success and Greystone is no more." There's a pause. "I imagine you're quite relieved about that," says the man eventually.

  "I don't give a shit anymore," John says. "I'm happy sitting here in my pub. Now go and do your dirty work so I can get back to bed."

  "You heard the man," says the male voice. "Go get her."

  "What do I do if she resists?" asks another male voice.

  "When she resists," says the first male voice, "you know exactly what to do."

  I suddenly hear several sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Running back to my room, I open the window and climb onto the ledge. I'm only on the second floor of the building, so the jump shouldn't be a problem - certainly nothing compared to the jump I made the other day...

  "Don't move a muscle," shouts a voice behind me.

  I turn to find three soldiers standing in the doorway, with their rifles pointed straight at me.

  For a moment, I try to think of a witty comeback, but I can't so I just let myself fall. As I drop, I hear a couple of shots being fired before I land hard on the ground. I can already feel my bones fixing themselves as I get to my feet and run around the side of the pub.

  "Stop!" shouts a voice in the darkness.

  It takes me a moment to work out where the person is, but then I spot a soldier running toward me from the pub's front door. With no time to think, no time to react, I grab him by the collar and throw him to one side. Not realizing my own strength, I end up throwing him a few meters, and he collapses to the ground.

  A few more shots ring out, and I run. I have no idea where I'm going, but I know I have to get away from here. Damn John Falstaff for betraying me, I swear to God if I ever get a chance to come back, I'll finish him off.

  Looking over my shoulder, I see the bright lights of an approaching vehicle. Fuck, they're chasing me. There's no way I can out-run them and -

  A shot rings out and a terrible pain rips through my shoulder. I stumble but I manage to keep running, and when I glance at the injury I see a red patch of blood forming. Realizing I've been shot, I run as hard as I can but I can hear the vehicle catching up to me. With no options left, I make a sharp left and head down a side road, but up ahead a couple more soldiers appear. I've already reached them, though, before they can raise their guns to fire, and to my surprise I find that I'm able to leap right over them.

  When I land, I find I can run even faster. I can no longer hear anyone chasing me, all that I'm focusing on is the fact that I can run and run and run. The adrenalin builds and builds, and I feel it coursing through my body. Soon I'm on the outskirts of town, running so fast it's impossible to believe it' still me, and I'm not even tired. But eventually I decide to slow down and I come to a halt in a small ditch by the side of the road, and that's when I realize...

  I'm not standing up normally.

  I'm on all fours.

  Panting, I look down at my hands, but all I see are two large gray paws. Is it possible? Somewhere in the chase, did I abandon my human form and become a wolf? After trying for so long, did I finally manage to achieve the transformation without thinking about it? And if I did, then how did it happen? How can I do it again? And how can I go back to being human? I look up at the moon and I feel... a connection, somehow. And I start to realize something... Duncan is alive. I don't know where, and I don't know what he's doing, but he's alive. I just have to find him.

  Feeling free for the first time in years, I walk away from the road and into a nearby field. I feel right at home here, and thanks to my thick layer of fur I'm not even cold. I walk through the field slowly, savoring every smell, until finally I find myself in the middle of the field, surrounded on all sides by tall wheat. My shoulder still hurts, so I sit down, and then I roll onto my side, and soon I'm asleep.

  Margaret

  I sit on the end of my bed, staring at the jewelery box. Is tonight the night?

  For two weeks now, I've kept the thing closed, terrified of what might be inside. I've been looking through the USB devices, but most of them seem to be full of dull technical reports. The jewelery box, on the other hand, seems to be something very different. Not only does it seem to contain some kind of light, but it also makes a buzzing sound and it feels... alive, almost.

  I take a deep breath.

  Be brave, Margaret. Be brave.

  Would Martin have been too scared to open the box? Would he? No! He'd have opened it by now. After all, what's the worst that could happen? How bad could something be if it fits neatly into a jewelery box?

  Realizing how silly I've been, I take the box in my hands and stare at it for a moment.

  It's time.

  I take another deep breath. Gosh, I don't think I've been so nervous since... well, since forever!

  Slowly, I open the lid. Just a little. As happened last time, there's a light inside, and a loud buzz starts to come from the box. Fighting the urge to slam the lid shut and forget about it, I open the lid all the way. I have to look away, because the light is so powerful, and eventually the box becomes too hot to touch.

  Putting the box on the floor, I step away to the other side of the room. The light from the box is now so bright, I can barely see anything, and the buzzing sound is getting louder and louder. I need to close the lid, but there's so much heat I don't think I can get close enough.

  I put my hands to my ears as the buzzing suddenly changes, becoming much more high-pitched. It's almost painful to listen to it. I turn and try to go to the door, but the pain is becoming intense and I drop to my knees. I think I'm screaming, but it's hard to tell because I can't hear anything above the buzzing of the box.

  Finally, I turn my face toward the box and against all reason I open my eyes. And that's when I see it. Emerging slowly from the box, it looks at me, and I look back at it. So much light, so much heat, so much energy. Slowly, it smiles, and then it steps toward me.

  The light becomes even brighter, the heat even more intense. I feel as if my ears are bleeding. Unable to take it anymore, I collapse to the floor. Even with my eyes closed, the light is so intense I can see it through my eyelids. It's as if the sun itself was in the box. And then I feel the most intense pain, and suddenly it feels as if I'm watching my body from the outside, as the heat burns me up completely.

  Jess

  Bristol Temple Meads train station, 2 weeks later

  I take the newspaper off the stand and look closer at the story at the bottom of the front page:

  Oxford pub landlord death: robbery suspected.

  I feel a shudder run through my chest as I read on: "Police in Oxford say they believe a popular local pub landlord was shot dead by robbers. John Falstaff, 62, was found dead a
lmost two weeks ago in the bar area of the Bell and Lion pub in Winchester Road. An initial investigation has found that money was missing from the pub's cash register, leading to the suspicion that he was shot when he disturbed a robbery on the premises."

  I put the newspaper down for a moment. How convenient. John Falstaff, the man who seemed to know a hell of a lot about werewolves in general and Greystone in particular, dies in a robbery just a day or two after I escape from his pub. I'm sure there's nothing suspicious about that at all.

  "You gonna buy that?" asks the man behind the counter.

  I put the newspaper back on the stand and head out onto the platform. I'm waiting for the train to Cornwall. I figure I might as well hide out down in the wilds of the South West for a while. I have a friend down in Penzance who I can probably stay with for a few weeks while I work out what to do.

  Every so often, I get flashes of realization that Duncan is still alive. I really believe that he's out there somewhere. So why hasn't he come to find me yet? Why has he just abandoned me? I suppose he might have gone to the Bell and Lion in Oxford and found out what happened, in which case he might be wondering if I escaped. But he seems to have a very developed sense of other werewolves, so shouldn't he be able to sniff me out? In which case, I have to wonder if there's something holding him back. Is he being held captive? And what do I do? Should I try to find him, to rescue him? Or should I wait?

  I need time to think. Cornwall is a good opportunity to rest and work out my next move. I also need to practice certain things. After all, I've still only managed to change into a wolf once, so I need to practice my skills a little and get better at that. Plus, I got the feeling that Duncan was going to teach me some things, and now I have to discover them about myself. It's funny how my body is suddenly so hard to understand, how it's suddenly so alien. I really need to get to grips with it, to explore myself. Without Duncan's help, that's going to be difficult.