by Amy Cross
Everything looks perfectly normal.
No-one notices the man in the denim jacket as he enters the square from the northern steps. He wanders alone through the crowd, looking like just another tourist. He stops to buy an ice cream, and then he eats it as he wanders past the fountain towards the base of Nelson's Column itself. Finishing his ice cream, he carefully puts the wrapper into a bin, even taking the trouble to pick up someone else's wrapper that has fallen nearby. A model citizen. A good guy.
The two security guards wander past and one of them glances at the man, but only for a second. He doesn't notice anything unusual. There isn't anything unusual to notice. As the guards wander off, their machine guns hanging from straps over their shoulders, the man glances in their direction, making sure that they're not suspicious.
The man smiles. Just a little. Just for a moment. Then he casually reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid. He rolls it between his fingers for a moment and thinks of the power that he has. Just the slightest pressure and the glass would break, and... For a moment, he wonders if he has the right to do this. Why should he be the one to decide that so many people have to die? The responsibility weight heavily on him for a moment, but then he remembers why he's here. The greater good. The greater purpose. The need to deliver the strongest possible message.
So he drops the vial.
He immediately starts to walk away, not waiting to listen for the sound of the glass smashing. But he knows it has already smashed, and it's already doing its work. As he hurries across the square, the man finds it hard to stop smiling. His heart is racing, and he knows it will only be a couple of seconds before...
The explosion is huge. A massive fireball rips across the square, blowing people apart and sending blood and body parts flying through the air. Several statues are destroyed, toppling over and crushing people. The flames cover everything, but despite the force of the explosion it's all over in less than a couple of seconds. Now all that remains is a moment of brief silence before the screaming and crying starts. People run. In order to look like them, the man runs too. It's chaos. Hundreds of people are stampeding away from where the explosion happened.
The man turns and looks back. He sees smoke filling the square, and he sees that many of the people running away are covered in blood. The man smiles again. His job is done, and the flames are raging, the blood is flowing. But those aren't the real threat. The real threat is carried on the wind, being breathed in by people far beyond Trafalgar Square.
The war has begun. The war that has been coming for centuries between humans and werewolves.
Book 7:
Ecotone
Prologue
- and running with the sound of the explosion still ringing in my ears and I look back but I can't see my mother anywhere and there are sirens and alarms ringing everywhere and then a man runs straight into me and knocks me to the ground and he doesn't stop and I feel something wet in my ear and I put my hand there and then I find there's blood on my hand and I'm bleeding and I get to my feet and start to run but then there's another explosion in the building right next to me and the big shop window shatters and the glass flies at me and cuts me all over and I fall to the ground again and then -
Prologue 2
My name is Darla.
Today, I found my entire family dead. Slaughtered. Murdered. Ripped to pieces and burnt, then ground into the dust. Their bones have been left scattered around the field. their flesh is long gone. There is nothing left but ash.
There are signs that they were tortured first. There is blood on the walls of some of the tents, and most of the bodies seem to have been tied up. They were probably tortured by people who were looking for me. So in a way, it's my fault that they're dead. If I'd just been here... Well, they'd still be dead, but at least they wouldn't have been tortured. At least they wouldn't have died screaming.
This was once a happy place. A carnival. Even when Vigrous Grinde was running it for the benefit of his evil little friend, there were good times to be had. I'd never had a family before, but people like Stephen and Allegra and, yes, even Vigrous Grinde himself, became more of a family than most people ever get. I felt I belonged here. Even when I went to London with Jess, I always felt I was being called back here to the carnival. And now it's gone.
I head to Mena's tent. Although she and I were never close, I came to understand her. Climbing the steps to the top of her water tank, I prepare myself for the worst. And when I get up there and look into the water, it's so much more horrible than I could have ever imagined. There's just blood, everywhere. So much blood, it's almost impossible to believe it all came from one mermaid.
"Hey," says a weak voice. I look down and see Mena looking up at me. She's ripped to shreds, most of her flesh gone, her face carved away to reveal just the skull. But she's still alive. Somehow. Even though her beauty is gone.
"What happened?" I ask, kneeling by the side of the tank. I feel numb. Completely unable to take anything in. Even the horror of Mena's injuries can't break me down, can't make me cry.
"Men came," she says, her voice rasping. "Soldiers. They killed everyone, and they burned them".
"Everyone?" I ask.
"Everyone," she says. "Stephen. Vigrous. Allegra. The Tenderlings and their children. Everyone. I heard their screams for three days and nights".
"They were looking for me," I whisper.
"It doesn't matter," Mena says. "I knew you'd come back eventually. I waited for you, so I could tell you. And now..." She takes a deep, rasping breath.
"Don't!" I say, reaching out to her, but she recoils. "Don't die," I say, almost pleading with her. "Please don't die".
"Sorry," she says. "I have no choice. But hey -" She lifts the bodies of two soldiers out of the pool of blood. Their faces are frozen in terror, their bodies are slashed and drained of blood. "At least I took two of them with me". She drops the bodies and they sink. "Is Jess okay?" she asks.
I nod. "She's fine," I say.
"Did she find her friend?"
"Duncan? Yeah, she found him".
Mena sighs. "I'm sorry".
"Why?"
"If she hadn't found him, she'd still need you".
I pause, not sure what to say. "She loves him," I say finally.
"Everyone loves someone," Mena says. "Even if it's the wrong person".
"Yeah, well..." My voice tapers off. "We can't do much about that, can we?"
Although her face is hacked away, although she's little more than muscle and bone, Mena seems to almost smile. "Tell Jess I said goodbye," she says. "Tell her I missed her. And tell her to be careful".
"I will," I say, taking a deep breath. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here, Mena. Maybe I could have done something".
"You couldn't," she says. "There were so many of them. The humans are going to kill us all".
"We'll fight," I say.
Mena shakes her head. "You can't. They're too strong. There are too many of them. They have too many weapons, and they're too smart. Too cruel".
"We'll fucking fight," I say firmly. "They can't get away with just wiping out all the other species. We'll fight them".
"We fought them," Mena says. "When they came. We fought and fought, but we couldn't do anything. In the end, though we fought, we lost. We died".
"We have to keep fighting," I say.
"You'll waste your final days," she replies. "Better to stop fighting and -"
"And what?" I shout at her. "Lay down and die? Let them do to me what they've done to you? No fucking way! I'm gonna fight. Me, and Jess, and Duncan too, we're gonna fight. Okay?"
Mena stares at me for a moment. "Good luck," she says finally, sounding sad. "Maybe you'll find a way to stop them. Maybe not. Either way, it's too late for me. See you on the other side". And with that, she relaxes, lets out a slow death rattle, and the life fades from her eyes. Slowly, she sinks beneath the bloody water until finally there's no sign of her.
I si
t there, on the edge of this tank of blood, watching as the ripples of the water subside. Soon the surface is flat and calm, still red and bloody but otherwise undisturbed.
Staring into the depths, I have no idea what to do. Yes, I should go and find Jess. I need to warn her. But I have no idea where she is. And it might be too late anyway. Like Mena said, maybe we can't fight. Maybe the humans will just exterminate us all. That's what they've always wanted. Even while the truce was on, there was tension. And now the truce is over. The humans are on the rampage, and none of the other species are safe. Werewolves. Tenderlings. Golvs. Criads. Antipedes. Mermaids. The Blessed Ones. All just targets for the humans' guns. Even the Underworld, eventually, will be destroyed. This is the war that was always foretold. The war that was always coming. The war that can only end in death. But we're going to fight. People will die, but it won't be us. We're going to fight and we're going to show them that they can't just pick us off like this. No matter how bad things look right now, we're going to win this war.
Prologue 3
"Margaret!" I shout, banging on her door.
But, as has been the case for the past week or so, there's no answer. Still, I'm sure she's in there, I hear her breathing at night, she's just avoiding me. And now that the rent is long overdue, I have every right to enter the room and remove her belonging. I feel bad, being so harsh with an old woman, but it's quite clear that she's not going to talk to me properly so I have no other choice. I fumble about in my pocket for the key, eventually fishing it and putting it in the lock.
"Margaret!" I shout again, "I'm giving you one final chance to open this door and talk to me properly, or I'm coming in!"
Silence.
I hear someone behind me. Turning, I find that the man from apartment 4B has come out into the corridor.
"Everything alright?" he asks.
"Fine, Walter," I say.
"Something wrong with Margaret?" he asks.
"No, Walter," I say, trying not to sound impatient. Walter's a good tenant, always pays his rent on time. Then again, until recently I'd have said the same thing about Margaret. "You can go back inside, Walter," I add.
He frowns, clearly curious about what's going on.
"This is a private matter, Walter," I say.
He nods and reluctantly goes back into his room, shutting the door slowly. I know he's loitering in his hallway, listening out to hear what happens when I go into Margaret's room. But I can't help that. And I have nothing to hide, no reason to be embarrassed. It's Margaret who should be worried.
"Okay," I say firmly. "I'm coming in".
I push the door open, and I'm surprised to find Margaret sitting on the edge of her bed, fully dressed, looking across the room at a small box that sits on her night-stand. She seems totally transfixed, unable to take her eyes away from it.
"Margaret," I say calmly, "is everything okay?"
She doesn't answer, doesn't even look at me, doesn't even acknowledge my presence. In fact, she's not even blinking, even though I can tell that she's breathing. Something's definitely wrong. I'm not sure how old she is - fifties, maybe even sixties - but I can't help wondering if she's had a stroke, or if she's somehow got one of those diseases where worms get in your brain and start tunnelling. She just seems... blank and empty.
"Okay, Margaret," I say, kneeling in front of her. "Can you try to look at me? Can you tell me if you remember my name?"
I hear a noise nearby and look over to see Walter has come back out of his apartment. "Everything alright?" he asks.
I sigh, looking up at Margaret's blank eyes. "I don't think so, Walter," I say. "Can you do me a favour and call an ambulance?"
"Is she dead?" he asks.
"No," I say, putting one of my hands on her frail little hand. "But I think something's very wrong with her and she needs urgent medical attention. So can you please call an ambulance and ask them to hurry?"
"Alright," Walter says, and he disappears back into his apartment.
"Help's coming," I say to Margaret. "I don't know if you can hear me, but help is coming. Okay?" I stare at her, hoping for some sign of a response. "You'll be okay," I say, unconvincingly.
I look over at the night-stand, at the box that Margaret is staring at. I've been in her room a few times and never seen it before. I lean over and pick it up, looking at the unusual, elaborate design on the lid. It looks old, really old, maybe an antique or something. Might be worth a bit of money, and Margaret doesn't have any family that I know of. Worth keeping my eye on this box in case...
I suddenly realise that Margaret has moved a little. Looking up, I see that she has kept her eyes fixed on the box even while it's in my hands.
"Nice old box," I say to her, smiling. "Can you hear me, Margaret?" Nothing. She's still almost catatonic. I wave the box around, and she moves her eyes so that she's always looking at it. "You like this old box, eh?" I say.
Suddenly she moves her eyes to look directly at me. The effect is a little unnerving.
"Alright, Margaret," I say. "What's in the box?"
She stare at me for a moment. "Take a look," she says slowly, her voice hoarse. As she opens her mouth to speak, the skin on her lips cracks and peels as if her mouth has been shut for many days.
I look down at the box and open the clasp, lifting the lid.
"There's nothing in here, Margaret," I say, looking into the little wooden space.
"I let it out," she says slowly.
I nod, not really understanding. "Let what out, Margaret?"
She's still staring at me. It's almost a full minute before she speaks again, and when she does, it's just a single word.
"Ecotone".
1
I lower my mouth and drink from the river. It's cool, clean water, but I kind of miss the chemical taste of the tap water back in London. I guess that's just me, though. I'll have to learn to live without a lot of the things I had before, in my old life, when I was human, when I still spent most of my time walking about on two legs instead of four. Things are so different these days. I don't think I've walked on two legs in more than a week. Every day, I feel more and more comfortable in my wolf form, and I miss being human - looking human - less and less.
But there's still a human side inside me. A voice at the back of my mind that tells me I'm... not really a wolf. Though I walk on all fours, and though I try to behave like a wolf, I still feel like an imposter. Somehow, this all feels wrong. Of course, I could never tell Duncan that this is how I feel. I guess it'll just take time. After all, I've basically switched from one species to another. It'd bound to be a difficult process. I just have to stick with it. My human side will fade away soon rather than later. And that's what I want. I think...
After I've drunk enough, I walk along the side of the river for a while. All around me, there are smells I never would have noticed when I was human. Other animals, creatures, the weather, distant towns... everything has a distinct scent, and I can pick it all up, separate each scent out as if I'm unpicking strands from a ball of wool. I swear, I could close my eyes forever and still get about just fine. That's what has changed the most since I became a werewolf: I sense the world in so many different ways, it's hard to believe I was ever restricted to my old human perceptions. Being human is so... small, so... narrow, that I'm not sure there's any point in ever going back to that old life.
In fact, sometimes I forget that I have a human form at all. I spend day after day running and walking on four legs, and it doesn't occur to me to shift back into my human form, especially now that Duncan remains as a wolf all the time. We just spend our days and nights in the forest, and I suspect that Duncan is allowing me this time to get used to my new life. He seems protective, as if he wants me to have as much time and as much freedom as possible to learn to explore my new body. Sometimes I realise he's watching me. I don't know what he's thinking, but sometimes I get the sense that something is troubling him. There's a look in his eyes, as if he knows that this time of freedom won't la
st forever.
Today, I've been down at the river for hours, running and exploring. I used to hate being out in the woods when I was a human, but I love it now that I'm a wolf. Maybe it's because in my human form I felt ungainly and awkward, as if I didn't belong. Humans are made for cities, but wolves are made for the natural world. So I spend my time like this, and the old days - of London, and the Underworld, and the carnival and all of those things - seem so long ago that they might be someone else's dream. The only thing I miss from that time is Darla, but I know that she's happy back at the carnival.
Heading up from the river, I make my way back to the cave entrance where I usually find Duncan. But today he's not there, so I sniff around some more and wait for him. But after a moment, I become aware of a nearby sound... voices... human voices... My ears stand up as I listen, and for a moment I panic, but then I recognise one of the voices as Duncan. He must have turned back into his human form, but who's he talking to? Cautiously, I follow the sound of the voices and soon I find Duncan in a nearby clearing, kneeling over a man who is flat on his back.
"...it's just the blood," the other man is saying as I approach. "You have to key away from the blood". He sounds concerned and scared, and weak, and at first I assume he's injured. But as I get closer, I realise that he's not injured, he's just weak, as if he's ill. "Who's that?" he asks, looking over at me.
Duncan turns. It's so strange to see him in his human form again. "This is Jess," he says. "She's one of us. Jess, come and meet Garvey".
I step closer, sniffing the ground. Garvey smells different. He smells of London, of blood, and of adrenalin. For these reasons, something about him makes me nervous. It's as if he's a reminder of a world that I thought I'd left behind forever, even if I knew that some day my new world would be interrupted like this.