by Stephen Cole
Incongruous on one of the benches was a gleaming new computer with printer, scanner and web-cam.
Tulung could see Tom was intrigued. ‘Technology is a tool, like any other,’ he said in his halting accent.
‘I guess we all have to move with the times,’ Tom said politely, but he could barely hide his impatience. ‘Where is Jicaque?’
‘I am here.’
The voice was weak and weary with age. Tom spun around to find the blue door had opened soundlessly. A wizened old man stood glowering in the doorway, his puny frame swamped by heavy, elaborately embroidered robes in blue and gold. His eyes were rheumy, and grey as the wisps of hair that hung down to his hunched shoulders. He looked down the end of his hooked nose at Tom, and seemed to be in a bad temper.
‘You have risked my life and yours by searching me out,’ the old man rasped. ‘And in vain.’
Tom stared. ‘You’re Jicaque?’
The old man nodded, then shook his head. ‘I will not minister to you. I dare not.’
‘Please, at least hear me out.’ Tom realised he was almost shouting. Disappointment was already clawing at his hopes. He’d imagined Jicaque in his mind to be some great, powerful magical figure, a storybook magician, striking and inspiring – not some shrivelled-up old man who could barely keep upright under the weight of his gown.
‘Very well,’ said the old man at length. He hobbled over to his red rug and sank stiffly into a cross-legged position.
Tulung ushered Tom forward to sit before Jicaque.
‘I’ve been turned ’wolf,’ said Tom briefly, bitterly. ‘Against my will. I fought against it. My friend, she says I’m a silverblood, or a wereling, or—’
Jicaque waved him silent. His eyes were shut tight. ‘I feel the force you harbour inside, its energies break the air around us.’ He cocked his head. ‘I can hear it howling within you. Gathering its strength. And yet I must not interfere. They would kill me if—’
‘The wolf’s getting stronger?’ Tom stared at him in horror. ‘Please, you must help me!’
‘Even I can feel the strength of it,’ said Tulung, anxiously studying his master’s face. ‘Should that power fall into Takapa’s hands … ’
Jicaque’s eyes snapped open, and they betrayed his fear. ‘You’re right, Tulung. Yes, you’re right. We must act at once to exorcise this spirit.’
‘An exorcism?’ Tom looked confused. ‘You can really just … talk it out of me?’
‘We must bind him, Tulung,’ announced Jicaque, rising up with some effort.
‘Bind me?’ Tom echoed. ‘Now, wait just a—’
‘It is one of the seven Rituals of the Troubled Wolf,’ said Tulung, softly. ‘Words alone will not free you. Your spirit is entwined with the wolf spirit. The two must be unravelled with charms and incantations, so that each may be given voice. Then, each shall argue for the governing of your body and soul.’
‘What if I lose?’ Tom whispered.
‘With Jicaque chanting on your behalf, your voice will be the louder, the stronger. The wolf will flee your soul.’
Tom turned back to Jicaque. Draped over the old man’s arms was a wolf pelt, larger by far than the one that had been stretched over his mattress at the Folans’ house. It smelt musky and old.
‘No,’ Tom said. ‘You can’t make me wear that, please.’
‘It will give the wolf voice without changing your form,’ said Jicaque.
‘I need time to think this through.’ Tom backed away. ‘My friend, she—’
‘You dare not delay,’ Jicaque bellowed. Tom could hardly credit that such a voice could come from so small a frame.
Tulung placed his hand comfortingly on Tom’s shoulder. ‘You see. With Jicaque’s voice joined to your own, the wolf’s loudest howls shall be as the whimpers of the damned.’
Tom gasped as the Native American’s hand scratched against his shoulder. He turned round, and saw the man was holding a thorn with a glutinous tip.
‘It will help you relax, ready you for the struggle ahead,’ said Jicaque. ‘There’s so little time.’
Tom’s vision began to blur as the old man advanced with the wolf pelt.
Kate was being herded somewhere.
She knew it wasn’t just coincidence that the same men in dark business suits kept appearing in her path, forcing her to take another turn. And there was a woman behind her, nondescript in black jeans and a sweater, who stopped when she stopped, who matched her pace when she walked on.
Now Kate wished she’d kept running at random through this warren of vast, mouldering brick warehouses instead of stopping to try and get her bearings. She’d given them time to track her. And now they were forcing her to some unknown destination. Every time she tried to take an unexpected path, a figure would stand at the end of the pathway, and shake its head.
Her plan was to contact Adam Blood somehow, to see if Tom had been in touch. She clung to the forlorn hope that the note she’d stuffed in Tom’s jeans pocket was still there, and that Tom had actually seen it. But Kate knew that if the ’wolves were back on to her, she didn’t stand a chance. And there weren’t enough people around these crumbling fringes of the old Warehouse District to offer any sort of protection. No crowds in which to lose herself.
No witnesses.
She wondered if these were ’wolves or wannabes on her tail. The knuckle-duster still hung loosely around her fingers, but the thought of using it again made her feel sick. Besides, she doubted her pursuers would patiently form a line for her to punch them all out.
Suddenly, as if at some secret signal, the woman trailing Kate broke into a run, coming for her.
Kate ran too, veering off down a side street. Two drunks slumped against a wall watched her pelting approach without surprise or concern.
Then one of them stuck out his leg and tripped her.
Kate fell sprawling on to the hard pavement. Her palms stung with the impact. She heard the two drunks laughing, and the sound of the woman’s footsteps getting louder. Kate hurried up and off again, convinced that any second now a man in a dark business suit would appear as if by magic to block her way at the end of the street.
But it was actually two men that strode calmly into view.
Kate spun around. The woman, seeing the way ahead was blocked, had slowed her pace to a fast walk. She was flanked either side by the drunks, who now walked with a menacing sense of purpose. All three were smiling.
Kate turned back to the men barring her way. ‘I’ve got money,’ she said desperately. ‘Please, don’t let them hurt me!’
The men looked at each other, amused. In that second of distraction, Kate delivered a kick in the groin to the man nearest her. As he doubled up in pain she leapfrogged over him and into the busier street beyond. But the other man had grabbed hold of her arm, and was pulling her back into the side street.
‘Fire!’ Kate yelled to some people walking on the other side of the street. ‘Help me, there’s a fire!’ She knew people would be more up for tackling a blaze than five aggressors in a dark alley. But still no one took notice. They probably thought she was nuts, or fooling around, and being restrained by her nice, respectable-looking father.
Kate saw her captor’s eyes flash yellow through the shades he wore as he tightened his grip on her wrist.
Then suddenly she heard a car braking hard. It whistled to a stop alongside her, and a handsome man with clear blue eyes and wildly waving hair leapt out.
‘Do you need assistance?’ he asked, in a precise, British accent. But Kate realised with a shock he was asking the man who held her prisoner.
‘Everything’s cool,’ the man assured him.
‘Please, I insist. Let me give you a hand,’ the smooth guy said. Then he hit Kate’s captor full in the face. ‘Ow!’ he bellowed as the man went down. ‘You could’ve taken your sunglasses off!’ He turned to Kate, rubbing his fist, and gave her a rueful smile. ‘Troll Lover, I presume?’
Kate grinned so wide her lips cracked. �
�Adam Blood?’
‘The same.’ He gestured to his car. ‘You’d better jump in.’
The woman in black jeans peered out from the side-street, presumably wondering what was taking her accomplice so long to haul Kate back out of sight. In seconds, she and the two fake drunks were running for Blood’s car.
Kate threw herself in the back. Blood pulled away with a screech of tyres before she could even close her door properly. It flew back open into one of the drunks and sent him reeling into the woman. Then Blood swung the car round the corner and her pursuers were lost from view.
‘Adam, for God’s sake!’ came an aggrieved voice from the front of the car.
For the first time Kate noticed the elegant well-dressed blonde in the passenger seat.
‘Why did you punch Leon?’ the woman demanded.
‘You said he was a dreadful bore!’ protested Blood.
She gave him a tight smile. ‘It’s no joke. He follows Takapa!’ She turned to look at Kate with piercing pale blue eyes. ‘Chances are he wanted the girl for a good reason.’
Kate felt a chill of fear. ‘What’s going on here?’
Blood ignored her. ‘It’s all right, Lydia,’ he assured his companion, ‘the girl’s a peace offering. Insurance, if you like.’ He looked in the rear-view at Kate and gave a rueful smile. ‘You see, she’s the one Takapa is after. Don’t you think he’ll forgive me my crimes if I deliver her direct to his door?’
Lydia considered for a moment, then settled contentedly in her seat. ‘You know, Adam,’ she said, ‘you might be right.’ She sounded amused. ‘And yes – Leon really is a crashing bore.’
Kate put her hands to her temples. ‘No, this isn’t happening.’
Lydia laughed. Then she turned to Blood. ‘OK, slow down. This is the place.’
‘The gathering’s here, is it?’ Blood pulled over to the side of the road. ‘No wonder they were catching up with our little runaway, if she was scurrying about on their doorstep.’
So that was where the ’wolves had been herding her: right back into Takapa’s arms. But now it seemed her long-distance pen pal was going to do the job himself. Kate lunged for the door.
Blood flicked the central locking. ‘Stay still,’ he commanded, turning in his seat to face her. ‘And lie down, out of sight. We wouldn’t want any peeping Toms looking in on you now, would we?’
Had his stress on the word been deliberate or … ? Kate opened her mouth to speak, but Blood shook his head just a fraction. Trembling, she obediently lay face-down on the leather seating.
Lydia looked at Blood. ‘The gathering’s due to start very soon. Are you coming up with her?’
‘Not just yet,’ said Blood smoothly. ‘I wouldn’t want to gatecrash your little lupine party. Besides, I want to get some answers out of the girl as to how she came to be loose on the streets. Why not call me when business is concluded and I’ll march her up?’ He leaned forward and kissed Lydia’s cheek. ‘Oh, and don’t tell a soul, will you? I want to make a big entrance.’
‘All right,’ Lydia agreed. ‘But you’d better park around the back. If Leon sees you here he’ll go nuts.’ Lydia pressed a perfectly made-up cheek against Blood’s clean-shaven one, gave Kate an amused look, then slid out of the car. ‘Don’t lose your little olive branch … I’d hate to see you lose anything else as a result.’
‘Bye, then!’ called Blood with mock jollity. Lydia slammed the car door shut behind her, and Blood drove away. ‘Great Gorgon knockers,’ he muttered, suddenly sounding a lot less refined. ‘I am such a bloody hero!’
‘Yeah, you’ve swept me off my feet.’ Kate felt sick with disappointment. She almost wished she was back in Takapa’s freezing storeroom. ‘I just don’t believe this. Are you ’wolf?’
‘No.’
‘That blonde bitch is. She’s your girlfriend?’
‘Used to knock about with her, yeah. Scrubs up well, doesn’t she?’ All his elegance and charm had apparently slipped out of the car with Lydia. ‘I’m hoping we can maybe work things out.’
Kate shook her head, feeling doubly betrayed. ‘You bastard. I’ve pictured us meeting up so many times over the last three years and I never once imagined – ’
‘Look, love, I think you’ll find I saved your life.’
She bristled. ‘Right. So you can save your own.’
‘Get down!’ hissed Blood, pulling in at the side of the road. ‘They’ll see you!’
Kate compromised on a half-crouch. ‘How did you recognise me, anyway?’
‘I didn’t. But Lydia recognised that bloke Leon chasing you. And since he was chasing you, and since Tom’s gassed on a bit about—’
‘Tom!’ Kate jerked her head up, her long black hair whipping round her face. ‘What have you done with him?’
‘I sent him to Jicaque, just as you asked,’ said Blood angrily, switching off the engine.
‘A trap, is it? And all thanks to me.’ Kate started kicking at the passenger door. ‘Let me out of here, you asshole.’
‘Just calm down and shut up a minute!’
‘Unlock this door!’ she shrieked, glaring wildly at him, tears of anger streaming down her face.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Blood yelled. Then something slammed down on the hood of the car, and his voice dropped in volume. ‘Er … but they might.’
Two large men had leaned in on the car. They blocked the way forward, peering in through the windshield.
Kate lunged uselessly for the door again, but recoiled as a hand slapped up against the window. Long talons began to tap out a slow, melancholic rhythm.
Then a gaunt, pale face pressed up against the tinted glass, a malicious smile twisting the all-too-familiar features. ‘Don’t cry, little girl,’ said Marcie Folan. ‘Mommy’s here.’
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CHAPTER TWENTY
Tom was lying in the foetal position in the middle of Jicaque’s red carpet. Scented candles placed in and around the bronze statues cast a golden light throughout the entire room. The drug-tipped thorn had worked quickly, turning Tom’s bones to baby food.
He’d been stripped to the waist and gently wrapped up in the wolf-skin. It clung to his sweating body like a frightened child. Now, with every breath of drowsy air, his senses swam a little deeper into a cold night that came for him alone.
Tom heard the Native American, Tulung, speak as though from a hundred miles away. His accent seemed less pronounced now. ‘He is prepared, Professor. We can begin.’
Professor? Tom wondered vaguely.
‘Switch on the web-cam,’ said Jicaque. He paused. ‘And signal to Takapa that we’re ready when he is.’
Tom felt the world fall away beneath him.
Jicaque couldn’t have said that. No way.
The wolf pelt squeezed him still more tightly, like it was trying to drain the life from him. Tom wanted to scream out, but his tongue was like a fat slug leeching to his lips; he couldn’t even open his mouth. He heard the synthesised chime of a PC starting up, tried to roll over on to his back, but it was like every limb had been pulverised.
A distorted image of the old man loomed over him, a hundred miles high. ‘Jicaque?’ he croaked.
The old man shook his head. ‘My name is DeVries. I’m a professor.’ He smiled coldly. ‘And an enthusiast of amateur dramatics.’ He shrugged off his enormous wizard robes. Beneath them he was wearing the coveralls of a surgeon. A scalpel gleamed in one of his prune-skin hands.
Tulung pointed the web-cam down to where Tom lay, capturing everything for electronic posterity.
‘Don’t struggle, son,’ DeVries’s voice rumbled. ‘Hold still and you won’t feel a thing.’
Kate stared at her mother’s face, numb with shock. She jumped as a brief, sharp whizzing sound jolted through the car. ‘No, don’t unlock the door!’ she shrieked at Blood.
Too late.
Blood nodded to the men blocking their way and then jumped swiftly out of the car. Marcie Folan opened a rear
door and reached inside. Kate yelled, kicking out at her. But Blood had opened the other rear door. He hauled Kate out of the car backwards and twisted an arm behind her back.
She winced. ‘Let go of me!’
‘Mrs Folan, I presume?’ Blood had jumped back into smooth-talking mode, extending a hand to Marcie. She looked at it like she might bite it off. ‘I’m Adam Blood. I’ve recaptured your wayward daughter.’
‘Have you, indeed?’ Marcie replied frostily.
Blood nodded, watching warily as Marcie’s escorts slowly advanced on them. ‘As you can see, Katherine is not very happy about it.’
Kate felt as though her insides were full of broken glass. ‘How did you find me?’
Marcie shrugged. ‘I was assured by Mr Takapa that you’d be brought to me at the end of his gathering,’ she replied. ‘I’m his guest of honour, you know,’ she said proudly. ‘I certainly wasn’t expecting to find you out here.’ She looked pointedly at Blood.
‘As I said,’ Blood assured her, ‘she got away, but I caught her again.’
‘I’d advise you, Mr Blood,’ said Marcie quietly, her gaze fixed on Kate, ‘to hand my daughter over to me. I’ve come a very long way for her.’
Kate felt Blood squeeze her hand. ‘Ordinarily, I’d love to,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid I really must hand Katherine over to dear old Papa Takapa myself. I’m currently in his bad books, you see. And as he does seem extremely interested in your daughter, my delivery of her might win his favour.’
‘Of course he’s interested in my daughter,’ Marcie said haughtily. She took a step towards Kate, and Blood took one in retreat. ‘He seeks the endorsement of my family name. If the Folans support him and his schemes, others will follow. And I must say, his plans sound … exciting.’