by Tim O'Rourke
Calix fired first. The sound of his guns thundering beside me snapped me out of the trance-like state I seemed to have fallen into as I’d watched Clarabelle walk toward her dead sister. But now I was gripped by fear as the wolf that was once Annabel lunged at Clarabelle. Pressing down on the triggers of both guns I fired at Annabel – I fired at the wolf. My bullets tore into the wolf’s maggot-infested flesh, sending the creature flying backwards and into the woods from where it had come.
“No!” Clarabelle screamed.
“She’s no longer your sister,” I hollered over the sound of gunfire. Then, as if to prove my point, the remaining wolves charged at us. The zombielike wolves sprang into the air, jagged claws out, bony tails whipping wildly from side to side. Flint shot forward, sword raised above his head, while Calix released another volley of bullets. I took aim, repeatedly pulling down on the triggers, flashes of bright white light exploding from the barrel of my gun. One of the wolves leapt at me, its ferocious jaws wide open, black gunge dripping from his lolling tongue. I threw myself to the ground as the wolf bounded just inches above me. Spinning round on my knees, I fired once more, burying a bullet into its misshapen skull. The creature’s head erupted in a mass of black and red lumps, which spattered the nearby headstones. Jumping to my feet, I looked up to see that both Calix and Flint were charging toward the wolves as they raced between the headstones toward us. With his sword raised high, Flint brought it down in a series of blinding strikes, dissecting the wolf closest to him. Entrails and fur sprayed up into the night sky, decorating the branches of the nearest trees like grotesque Christmas tree decorations.
With his mouth nothing more than a grim-looking slit beneath his nose, and black eyes narrowed, Calix took aim with his guns, sinking bullets into a wolf that lunged at him. Howling, the wolf flew backwards, crashing into a gravestone, which cracked in half, sending up a cloud of dust. Then as if from nowhere, Morten pounced out of the darkness. I’d never seen the old man move with such agility and speed. He gripped Calix around the throat, dragging him to the ground, where his guns flew free from his fists. With his bare hands, Calix took hold of Morten and wrestled with him. I raced across the graveyard, leaping through the air, knocking Morten free of Calix. Sitting astride Morten, I pinned him flat, pressing down on his chest with one knee. He looked up from beneath the rim of his bowler hat and along the length of the barrels that I had pointed at him. Morten glanced over my shoulder at Calix who was now back on his feet.
“Traitor!” Morten spat at him. “You’re a wolf just like me, and you choose to help a witch and a vampire. You’re one of us – you’re like me.”
“I might be a werewolf,” Calix said, pointing his guns down at Morten, “but I’m nothing like you.”
“It’s not too late, Calix, to save yourself,” Morten wheezed, as I pressed harder down on his chest with my knee. “Hand Mila over to Trent and Rea and I am sure they will make peace with you.”
Pressing his finger down on the trigger of his gun, Calix narrowed his eyes, and said, “You haven’t got the faintest idea what peace is. We could have had real peace nineteen years ago if you hadn’t killed Julia Miller.”
“You were there, too, that night,” Morten sneered up at him. “You could’ve saved Julia Miller if you’d really wanted to.”
“And who says I didn’t save her?” Calix said, pulling down on the trigger.
“No!” I shouted, knocking his arm, so the shot went wide and missed Morten. “We’re not going to kill him.”
“After what he did to your mother?” Calix scowled at me. “Why not?”
I stared up at him. “Because that makes us as bad as him.”
“You really are like your mother,” Calix said. “But unfortunately, I’m nothing like her.” Before I’d a chance to react and stop him, Calix released two shots from his guns, blowing away both of Morten’s kneecaps.
I sprang to my feet. “I thought I said not to shoot him!”
With a bitter smile, Calix said, “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. I thought you said not to kill him. I blew his fucking knees off, big deal. He’ll survive, unfortunately.” Calix darted away, reloading his guns with bullets that he plucked from his belt.
I looked back down to where Morten lay, howling with pain. Staring up at me with his milky eyes, he screeched, “You won’t escape from Shade, Mila Watson. None of you will. They won’t let you.”
With nothing to say to him, I turned my back and walked away.
With guns blasting in his fists, Calix continued to stride amongst the headstones, picking off the wolves that came too close to him. One of them flew up into the air, spun around, and dropped to the earth like a lifeless stone. Hearing howling behind me, I spun around to see a wolf leaping from the top of a nearby gravestone. Raising my guns, I fired but there was no flash or bang – just a dry click-click sound as my guns were now both empty. As the wolf dropped out of the night sky at me, I threw my arms in front of my face in a desperate attempt to protect myself from the creature’s ferocious jaws. I heard a whooshing sound as something passed close to my face. Opening my eyes a fraction, I watched the wolf spinning away, half its jawbone hanging loose like a broken hinge.
“Are you okay?” Flint asked me, wiping the wolf’s blood from his sword.
“Yes,” I said. As fast as he had appeared, Flint dashed away once more, brandishing the sword above his head. Knowing how close I had come to death if it hadn’t been for Flint coming to my rescue, I whispered, “Thank you.”
I glanced right and saw Clarabelle trying to fight desperately with a wolf that had hold of her. The wolf’s eyes were the colour of a blood red sunset. It’s giant, foaming jaws opened and closed within inches of her face. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to fight it off with my bare hands, I turned and looked frantically for Calix. He was some feet away, taking aim at one of the last wolves.
“Calix, I’m out,” I shouted.
Without looking at me, he tossed one of his guns in my direction. Snatching it out of the air, I spun around and took aim at the wolf, which was now trying to eat Clarabelle’s face off. To my surprise there were now two wolves and no sign of Clarabelle. And as I stood agog and watched the two wolves claw at each other, I realised that one of them was Clarabelle. Both of them howled, lunged at each other, and for the first time, I could see how easily Clarabelle could have killed those children – the children that had been set free from their graves to stalk the land as wolves forevermore. As I inched closer, taking aim and trying to figure out which wolf was Clarabelle so as not to shoot and kill the wrong one, I could see that there was a difference between them. In the blinding flash of fur, teeth, and claws as they fought with each other, I could see that one of them didn’t look completely like a wolf. In the shafts of moonlight that cut diagonally through the nearby trees, I could see that one of them still looked vaguely human. One of them still looked like a young girl who was covered in fur, with pointed ears, a long snout and wore a white flowing dress.
Throwing back her head, Clarabelle howled in pain as the other wolf clawed at her. Taking aim at this wolf, I emptied the rest of the bullets from the gun Calix had thrown to me. The wolf dropped to the ground in a puff of dead leaves, where it lay panting. Scrambling forward on all fours, Clarabelle finished the wolf off, by burying her fingers – claws – into its throat. As the wolf took its last laboured breath, the graveyard fell silent. The silence that had now fallen over the graveyard was ear-splitting. I watched Clarabelle slide her claws from the dead wolf’s throat. Blood dripped from her fingertips as she came toward me. With each step Clarabelle took, she became more human-like until the part of her that was a wolf receded, and only the young girl remained.
“Are you hurt?” I asked her as she drew level with me.
“No,” she said, with a shake of her head. “Are you?”
“I’m fine,” I told her, looking over my shoulder for any sign of Flint and Calix. They stood some distance away, between the crooked headstones, their wea
pons still raised, even though the threat was over. “I think we’re safe now,” I called out to them.
“Do you really think so,” Calix said, looking in my direction. “Morten didn’t set these wolves free alone. Trent and the others won’t be far away.”
“Then we should get going,” Flint said, pulling up the hood of his robes so his face was hidden by shadow. “Let’s leave Shade right now.”
“You have a sword, we don’t,” Calix said, striding around the gravestones and taking his gun from me. “We have guns but they’re worthless without bullets and we’re out of them. We’ll have to go to the brickhouse – I have some there…”
“We don’t have time,” I said. “Flint is right, we need to leave Shade right now.”
“We’re not going to get very far without…” Calix started.
I cut in. “What about the boxes of bullets Morten keeps in that outhouse behind the church?”
“They’re not worth shit,” Calix groaned.
“They’ll have to do,” I said, brushing past him, heading back across the graveyard, Clarabelle right behind me. I hadn’t gone far, when I heard something moving close by. I could hear the sound of heavy breathing, weeping, and mewing. Taking Clarabelle by the hand, I positioned her behind me and peered over the nearest headstone. Morton was on the other side of it, dragging himself over the graves, trailing his spindly and broken legs behind him. How long it would take for his legs to recover fully before he could stand once more and head into town and raise the alarm, I did not know. But one thing I was sure of, if we didn’t get out of Shade soon, then we might never see the world beyond its walls ever again.
Gripping Clarabelle’s hand tighter still, I began to run in the direction of the church, Flint and Calix at our heels.
Chapter Ten
Mila Watson
The door to the outhouse at the rear of the church was locked fast. Telling the rest of us to stand clear, Calix brought the door down with one hard kick with his boot. The door flew inwards, taking some of the frame with it in a shower of splinters. In a pile, on the other side of the door, were the boxes that contained the bullets we had come in search of. I knew that they were old and unreliable but they would have to do. I just hoped that they didn’t explode in my face or blow my hand clean off. Bent at the waist, Calix began to dig through the boxes. He passed me handfuls of bullets, while Flint and Clarabelle kept watch. I placed these bullets about my gun belt, and when that was full, I filled the pockets of my jeans and sweater with them. Once Calix had refilled his belt, he then stuffed as many bullets as he could fit into the pockets of his jeans and long black coat.
“Are you done yet?” Clarabelle asked, sounding anxious as she peered off into the darkness looking for any sign of Trent and the others.
Ignoring her, Calix stood amongst the empty boxes and said, “Are you good to go?”
“I’m ready,” I said, gripping both guns in my fists.
Hidden by the shadows, so we were unseen by either Flint or Clarabelle, Calix leant forward and kissed me on the mouth. The kiss was quick, but tender.
“What was that for?” I breathed, slightly taken aback by his move on me.
“Just in case I never get another chance to kiss you,” he whispered.
“We will escape,” I said.
Glancing at where Flint stood just outside the splintered door with his back to us, then back at me, Calix said, “It’s not escaping I’m worried about.”
“Flint would never hurt me,” I whispered.
“I know that,” Calix said, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s in love with you and I can see that you’re in love with him – that’s what scares me.”
“I’m not in…” I started, but Calix cut over me.
“When you feel asleep in the cell, you were calling out his name.”
“So?” I shrugged. “I could’ve been having a nightmare.”
“You weren’t having no nightmare,” he said, letting his hand drop from the side of my face.
“How do you know?”
“Because you sounded like you were having a real good time,” he said, before brushing past me and out in the night. From where I stood alone in the outhouse, I heard him speak to Flint and Clarabelle and say, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Flint turned to look at me. “Are you coming, Mila?”
“I’m coming,” I whispered, unable to remember if I’d been dreaming about Flint like Calix said I had been. And if I had been, what had Flint and I been doing in that dream for Calix to believe that we had been having a good time? Perhaps I’d been dreaming about the life Flint and I had shared prior to me leaving Shade. And as I stood and now looked at him standing in the fractured doorway of the outhouse, moonlight spilling over his shoulders, blue eyes fixed on mine, I could clearly remember what good friends we had been and all the times we had made love. But had it really been love that we had once shared – or was it just friendship – on my part at least?
“What are you thinking about?” Flint asked, jarring me from my thoughts and memories.
“Huh?” I said. Gathering my thoughts and composure, I quickly added, “Oh, it was nothing. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Leaving the outhouse behind, I followed the others back across the graveyard. We passed through the gate set into the wall and out onto the road. Although it was still dark, the moon was beginning to dip in the sky and I knew that dawn wasn’t too far off. I wanted to have as much distance between Shade and us before sunrise. Walking single file, we followed the curve of the narrow road and headed back into Shade. At the edge of the park, Calix slowed upfront. Fearing that perhaps we had been discovered, I cocked the hammers on my guns and raised them. Flint had drawn his sword. Checking to make sure that Clarabelle was at my side, I drew level with Calix as he stood and peered out across the park.
“What can you see?” I whispered.
“Nothing,” he whispered back, “and that’s what scares me. The others would have heard all the gunfire up at the graveyard so why haven’t they come out to investigate? It’s too quiet for my liking.”
I looked out across the park – it was so quiet and still. Even the swing had stopped swaying back and forth.
“Perhaps Trent, Rea, and Rush are no longer in Shade,” I suggested, more out of hope than any real belief. “If Flint is right and they are planning to hand us over to the vampires tomorrow, perhaps they’ve gone to Maze to negotiate their new truce?”
“Maybe,” Calix said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Stay together,” he added, beginning to move slowly across the park.
Chapter Eleven
Mila Watson
Side-by-side, we made our way across the park. Each of us had our weapons drawn, apart from Clarabelle, who walked cautiously beside me, hands swinging at her sides. Unlike us, Clarabelle didn’t carry a weapon. I guess she was relying on the monster that lurked inside to protect her. I glanced left and right as we passed the old schoolhouse, the swing, and headed toward the path that would lead us through the winding network of the streets of Shade. The night was more silent and still than I’d ever known. The silence felt oppressive.
About halfway across the park, the silence was finally shattered by the sound of the school bell ringing. We turned around at once to face the old schoolhouse. There was no one there. The rope hanging from the bell swayed from side to side. Whoever had yanked on it had now disappeared. With every one of my nerve endings tingling, those wisps of energy – magic – started to ebb and flow through my veins and down into my arms. Seeing that there was no one standing by the bell rope, I turned around with the others. Clarabelle let out a cry, which sounded more like a squeak. The werewolves had crept up on us while our backs had been turned. Their approach had been stealth-like and silent as I’d not heard them at all. The wolves were gathered in a semicircle about us, cutting off our only exit out of Shade. Standing before them like leaders, was Trent, Rea, Rush, and the butcher �
� Clarabelle’s father. And just like us, they had their weapons drawn. The butcher was clutching the familiar meat clever I’d seen him holding so many times before. He stood, glaring at his daughter, but this time, Clarabelle stayed at my side and didn’t go to him. We stood in the silence of the night and faced each other off. If Trent, or any of the wolves, thought that we would perhaps back down, they were wrong. We had nothing more to lose. One way or another, I would be leaving Shade tonight – dead or alive. I sensed my friends felt the same because if they didn’t leave Shade, like me, what did they have to live for? All of us would end up dead anyway, once we had been handed over to the vampires. I knew I could save my own life, if I agreed to help the vampires, but I had no intention of doing that. Not ever. So whether I managed to fight my way out of Shade or not, my fate was already sealed.
Rea broke the deadlock and the silence first by saying, “It’s too late – we have already made a deal with the vampires.”
“It’s true, we’ve found another truce with the vampires,” Trent said, “but only if we hand you all over to the vampires.”
With his guns trained on those he once had called his friends and brother, Calix made one last-ditch attempt at trying to reason with them. “The vampires only want Mila back so she can lead an army against the werewolves. You might believe that you are finding another chance of peace by handing her over to the vampires but the peace will be short-lived.”
“Who told you that the vampires want Mila to lead an army?” Trent asked, pointing his gun directly at Calix.
“Flint, told me,” Calix said.
Rea began to chuckle. “If you believe a vampire, Calix, then you are even more stupid than I first thought.”
“It’s true,” Flint said, his pale hands gripping the hilt of his sword, which he held aloft before him. “For years, the vampires have been biding their time, waiting for Mila to develop her powers before they attack the wolves.”