Anything but Ordinary

by Nicola Rhodes

  This was dangerous ground. ‘Maybe she has,’ he said glumly.

  ‘If she hadn’t in five thousand years,’ said Cindy. ‘What are the chances of it happening now?’

  * * *

  Tamar was sat in the commissary nursing a coffee of unparalleled toxicity, when a hand touched her lightly on the shoulder and a familiar voice said. ‘Hello gorgeous.’

  ‘Hello Slick,’ she turned with a mocking smile. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Dinner,’ he said promptly.

  Tamar laughed. ‘When you tell me your real name I’ll consider it,’ she told him. She was beginning to enjoy his company. She liked his refreshingly direct admiration. He found her beautiful and did not see any reason to pretend otherwise. It was nice to be appreciated. He would look at her at odd moments with undisguised and fervent desire. Denny had looked at her that way once. Of course, he was no Denny, but he was handsome and charming and he exerted that charm in her direction at every possible opportunity. Sometimes she would screw her eyes up to distort his image. With the floppy blonde hair and long lean physique, he looked a little like Denny, and he had the same hands, the same long sensitive fingers, artistic hands. Tamar had always appreciated Denny’s hands.

  She wondered idly what it would be like to let herself be tempted by this man. And would she be pretending all the time that he was Denny? The way Denny used to be …

  ‘Sorry,’ he was saying. ‘That’s the one thing I can’t do, even for you. It’s a secret.’ He put his fingers to his lips.

  ‘It can’t be that bad. I knew a guy called Eugene once, but I never thought less of him for that.’

  ‘It’s worse than that,’

  ‘Not Cyril?’

  ‘No, and I’m not telling you.’

  ‘So it could be Cyril.’

  ‘It could be, but it isn’t.’

  ‘Cecil?’ Torquil? Tarquin? Denzil? You know, I once knew a guy called Florid Underdrawers. Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than that!’

  ‘You made that up.’

  ‘I swear, although to be fair, he was a dwarf.’

  ‘Okay, it’s not worse than that, but I’m still not telling you.’

  ‘Okay, suit yourself,’ she turned back to the heinous coffee. ‘It’s your loss anyway,’ she added.

  ‘Believe me, I know,’ he said.

  They were interrupted by a wailing siren accompanied by a screeching voice announcing to the complex “INTRUDER ALERT, INTRUDER ALERT… TEAM ALPHA TO THE HOLDING ROOM.”

  ‘Intruder alert?’ said Tamar, getting off her seat. ‘How can there be an intruder alert? A mouse couldn’t break into this place.’

  ‘If we’re being called to the holding room, then it means they’ve caught someone,’ said Slick, ‘probably sneaking around outside. Usually they aren’t trying to get in at all. Why would they be? It’s not as if anyone knows this place is here.’

  Tamar found her heart sinking; although she had not even realised, until it did, that it had soared for a moment when the alert came through. She realised that she had irrationally hoped for one split second that the intruder might be Denny. Now, she realised, that it probably was not. Even if it was then, according to Slick, he had been captured, and that would not be a good thing.

  She knew where the holding room was and she was not looking forward to seeing it again under any circumstances.

  The rest of the team, along with The Director and a gaggle of scientists were crowded outside the holding room talking excitedly.

  ‘Oh, Tamar, there you are,’ said Melissa, her eyes shining. ‘It’s so exciting. We’ve caught a demon.’

  ‘Probable demon,’ corrected The Director.

  ‘A demon?’ said Tamar, her eyes narrowed. She thought it extremely unlikely that they had caught a demon. Many of the people here had bite and scratch marks on them, but, interestingly enough, there were no scorch or burn marks on anyone. Demon indeed?

  ‘What kind of demon?’ she asked.

  ‘We don’t know,’ said The Director. ‘We were hoping you might identify it.’

  ‘There are fourteen million demons in hell,’ said Tamar. ‘I’ve been there, but I didn’t meet them all personally. There wasn’t time.’

  This remark drew surprised gasps from the onlookers crowded around the door to the holding room.

  ‘I meant, identify the species,’ said The Director calmly. ‘Shall we go in?’

  Tamar shrugged. All this excitement over a demon, what was the big deal?’

  As she entered the room, she almost laughed out loud. Of course, she could see where they might have been confused. The horns, the cloven feet, the tail. However, she suppressed her amusement. To laugh now would be to escalate what was already shaping up to be a diplomatic incident. She just hoped she could sort this out.

  She bowed low before the figure on the chair. ‘Your Highness.’ she said to astonished gasps from behind her. She ignored these.

  ‘It’s your Majesty now,’ said the figure on the chair in a high squeaky voice. ‘The old one passed away in the fight against the Sidhe. Is that Tamar Black?’

  ‘It is your Majesty,’ said Tamar keeping her voice carefully respectful. ‘Please allow me to apologise for this terrible misunderstanding …’

  ‘They called me a demon,’ said the figure indignantly.’

  Tamar whirled. ‘You called him a demon?’ she asked in horrified tones. ‘To his face? This, as any person might know, is Slev, Prince …’

  ‘King!’

  ‘King of the Satyrs.’ she turned to King Slev. ‘Please forgive the ignorati over there,’ she said. ‘They didn’t know any better.

  Slev twisted his face into what might have been a smile. Ignorati! That was typical Tamar.

  Tamar turned round to the Director. ‘I suggest you let him go immediately, unless you want a diplomatic incident that I doubt very much you are equipped to handle.’ she leaned in a whispered. ‘Let me talk to him alone, they’re very touchy, and calling him a demon was the worst thing you could have done. But I think I can handle it.’

  The Director nodded in a bemused fashion. ‘Whatever you think,’ he said. Clearly, this had got beyond him. He signalled a guard to release the Satyr King and said loudly. ‘Everybody out,’

  ‘What are you doing here, Tamar Black?’ said Slev when they were alone.

  ‘Long story,’ said Tamar. ‘And I might ask you the same thing.’

  ‘I was captured,’ said Slev.

  ‘There’s a lot of it about,’ said Tamar vaguely.

  ‘Not you too?’Slev was astonished.

  ‘Were you hanging around outside the complex?’ said Tamar, who did not believe it for a second.

  ‘I don’t think so. I was in my forest when suddenly … ‘D’you know, I’m not sure …’

  ‘Hmm,’ was Tamar’s only response.

  ‘Is that how they got you too?’ asked Slev shrewdly. ‘Are they going to let me go?’ he asked when she did not answer this.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tamar.

  ‘I think you should get out of here too,’ he said. ‘This is not a good place Tamar Black. And that Director man, I know a wolf in an alpaca wool suit when I see one, or rather smell one.’

  ‘Wolf?’ snapped Tamar. ‘As in …?’

  ‘As in a wolf, Tamar Black. As I think you know.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ said Tamar. ‘You don’t mean a werewolf do you?’

  ‘No I do not. I mean a wolf disguised as a human, a very dangerous creature.’

  ‘Yes I thought that’s what you meant. Oh shit,’ she repeated.

  She did not ask him if he was certain. Satyrs do not make mistakes about things like that. It explained her current obsession with wolves too. She must have sensed it on some level.

  ‘Thanks for the heads up Slev,’ she said. ‘Now, let’s get you out of here.’

  ‘You aren’t leaving too?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Tamar. ‘I have some things to do here, before I go.’


  ‘Be careful Tamar Black. Wolves are dangerous creatures when backed into a corner, but they are also seductive. And this place too is seductive. Make certain you understand your own motives in deciding to stay.’

  * * *

  After Denny had finished grilling the Agency man, and was certain that he had got as much out of him as possible, he let him go and get some food and sat alone in the vast, empty study pondering on what he had heard.

  There was a lot to assimilate, but first up and most bewildering was the fact that Tamar had apparently chosen to stay and work for the Agency. He had cross-examined poor Dawber on this point extensively but had been reluctantly forced to accept that, unless there were things about the situation that Dawber had never known, she had indeed made that choice. It was almost funny.

  ‘I knew that the next thing would be her getting herself a job,’ he thought. Well, he could not stop her; apparently, it was just something that she had to get out of her system. ‘She could have told me at least,’ he thought resentfully. But then again, given his recent attitude to her quest for all things ordinary, he could hardly blame her for not doing so. And after all, she had sent Dawber to him; that was a kind of message.

  He forced himself to put this issue to one side for now and thought about some of the other things that Dawber had told him.

  One thing he decided almost immediately was that he had to take a trip to Hank’s mythological forest and find out just how many creatures were missing and what, if anything, Hank was doing about it.

  He would take Agent Dawber with him – just let him try to argue about it.

  * * *

  Before he could go, Stiles appeared with the news that he had seen Tamar in Venezuela sorting out the Crettin problem. She seemed fine if a bit hot and bothered, Stiles reported.

  Denny told him about Tamar’s message through Agent Dawber. Stiles was sceptical as he always was, but had to admit that, for the moment, there did not seem to be a lot he could do about it.

  ‘And the wedding’s booked for two weeks on Saturday,’ said Denny mournfully.

  ‘Don’t cancel it,’ Stiles advised. ‘I reckon she’ll turn up if she can.’

  Denny’s face lit up for a moment. ‘D’you reckon?’ he said hopefully. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Stiles, with far more conviction than he actually felt.

  But Denny felt better immediately. If Jack thought so, then it was probably right. Stiles had an almost uncanny prescience when it came to people’s reactions and motives. That was why, deep down, he had serious misgivings about Dawber’s story.

  He offered to come to the forest with Denny and Denny accepted his offer with alacrity, he did not like Hank very much, and Dawber was a bit of an unknown quantity as yet. It would be good to have a friendly face along. This may have been Stiles’s motive for making the offer since, on a practical level, there was no reason to suppose he would be needed.

  * * *

  Dawber, already considerably unnerved by the teleporting and the strange method of entering the forest – which looked pretty intimidating to him in itself, was then made irremediably nervous by the appearance of Hank who greeted them heartily.

  ‘DERRY!’ he boomed cheerfully and gave him a slap on the back that would at one time have knocked Denny flat on his face.

  Denny raised an eyebrow but made no attempt to correct him, as Tamar would have done. He knew perfectly well that Hank knew his name and that this was a low attempt to hide his extreme jealousy over Tamar by pretending that Denny was of no account to him at all.

  ‘And who are these chaps?’ Hank asked. ‘Wait, I know this one,’ he indicated Stiles. ‘We’ve met before I’m sure, I never forget a face. Jake isn’t it?’

  ‘Jack,’ said Stiles.

  ‘Jack! Of course,’ he pumped his hand vigorously. ‘Nice to have you back, I take it all went well with the Hart’s Blood?’ Hank’s heartiness was threatening to go into overdrive, but both Stiles and Denny sensed a strain in his voice.

  ‘Fine,’ said Stiles laconically.

  ‘Good, good. And who is this fine fellow?’ He smiled widely at the cowering Dawber.

  ‘Missing any animals Hank?’ said Denny abruptly cutting off this line of dissembling.

  ‘How did you know?’ said Hank, too surprised to try a denial. His façade of heartiness crumbling like the walls of Jericho.

  ‘Because I know, or rather this man here knows where they are’ said Denny.

  ‘Does he, by god?’ said Hank peering closely at Dawber who shrank back. ‘What’s been going on then? I didn’t think too much about it at first. There are always a few who leave in the summer you know. They normally come back eventually, but there’s been an awful lot gone lately, more than usual. What’s been going on then?’ he reiterated. ‘You seem to know all about it.’

  ‘They’ve been taken,’ said Denny. ‘More than that, I can’t tell you. Tamar could probably tell you more.’

  ‘Where is the lovely one anyway?’ asked Hank.

  ‘Unavailable,’ said Denny shortly.

  ‘Trouble in paradise?’ asked Hank, looking absurdly pleased about it.

  ‘She’s with them,’ volunteered Dawber unexpectedly.

  Denny gave him a black look.

  ‘Ah, undercover,’ said Hank, looking slightly disappointed.

  ‘Well, if she’s on the case, what do you want from me?’ he spread his hands.’

  ‘Well, actually,’ Denny admitted reluctantly. ‘We aren’t at all certain that she is on it.’

  Hank frowned. ‘Then what is she doing with the swine who are taking my creatures?’

  ‘She might not know … Look we are looking into this. What can you tell us?’

  ‘How many are missing?’ put in Stiles interrogatively. ‘When do they go, is it at night or what? Have you seen anything? Anyone?’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said Hank. ‘Give a chap a chance to think.’

  ‘They just seem to vanish,’ he said eventually. ‘Not at night especially I don’t think, I’ve never seen it happen. And I’ve never seen anyone here who doesn’t belong here, except you of course. There are about sixty missing creatures of all different species. That’s all I can tell you. Can you find them?’ he added anxiously.

  ‘We’ll damn well try,’ said Denny grimly looking at Dawber. ‘Can you get us inside?’

  ‘I-I suppose,’ said Dawber. ‘But it’s risky. They won’t just let me in now.’

  They turned to go when a thought struck Stiles; he turned back. ‘I don’t suppose any of them have ever come back have they?’ he asked.

  Hank looked surprised at the question. ‘No, not as far as I know,’ he said. ‘I mean, some of the Fons that went off returned recently, but they’re always disappearing and coming back again, you’d think this place had a revolving door on it the way they carry on. Anyway, no one’d be interested in Fons.’

  ‘They would,’ said Dawber darkly. ‘They’re interested in everything.’

  ‘You can’t question Fons, though,’ said Denny. ‘Too stupid.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Hank. ‘And they can’t talk anyway.’

  ‘It was a good idea, though,’ said Denny. ‘We’ll keep in touch Hank and let us know if any of them do come back, we might learn something.’

  Right ho,’ said Hank.

  * * *

  That night Denny dreamed about wolves. Snapping, snarling, growling wolves with foam flecked muzzles and mad fiery eyes. He woke up in a cold sweat. Denny was used to this sort of thing and usually dismissed it summarily. It was either a normal dream evoked by his unconscious mind or, if it wasn’t, then it had been planted there deliberately by someone who wanted to mislead him in some way. This time it felt different. Although Denny did not believe in precognisance of any sort, he felt as if he had just been given a glimpse of something like it. Someone, he thought, was trying to tell him something.

  He got up and went to the kitchen to get a drink an
d found Cindy there reading the paper.

  She looked up at him and grinned. ‘Is Denny Sanger the sexiest man in the world?’ she read out in a singsong voice.

  ‘Don’t’ he groaned putting his head in his hands. ‘I thought I got rid of that.’

  ‘It’s not a very good picture,’ said Cindy. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t swear to it being you at all.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Denny agreed. ‘Now can we talk about something else – anything else?’

  Cindy flipped the paper into the bin. ‘Such as?’ she queried.

  Denny shrugged.

  ‘What you are doing up in the middle of the night, for example.’ she said.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she told him. ‘You woke the whole house shouting and going on in your sleep. That’s why I’m up.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘Are the kiddies asleep now?’ he asked. ‘Did I wake them?’

  ‘They’re fine,’ Cindy waved a dismissive hand. ‘Kids can sleep through anything and Fin just turned back over and started snoring which pretty effectively “murdered sleep” for me, so I got up. And fascinating though all this must be, I want to know what’s bothering you.’

  ‘Nightmare, nothing serious.’

  ‘Balls,’ said Cindy. ‘You don’t get up and come downstairs over a nightmare.’

  ‘Don’t push it Cind,’ said Denny. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it right now.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Cindy a little snippily. ‘I think I’ll go and make up the sofa, there’s no point in me going back to bed now, with him snoring away like a road drill.’

  ‘You’ve had premonitions haven’t you?’ said Denny suddenly.

  Cindy started. The last premonition she had had, had involved Denny in a rather personal way but he didn’t know about that surely? He couldn’t.

  Then she realised what he was getting at. ‘Is that what you think it was?’ she asked, ‘your dream?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘How – how accurate are they?’

  ‘Depends,’ she said. ‘Mostly they’re allegorical or, at best, pretty vague. I shouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.’

  ‘But they are accurate sometimes?’ he persisted.