Barking

by Tom Holt

  ‘No.’

  Not the answer he’d expected, he realised; then he remembered that she was a lawyer too. ‘Is it, like, compulsory? At Crosswoods, I mean.’

  Crooked smile. What great big teeth, grandma. ‘You didn’t do Latin at your school.’

  ‘Well, no.’

  ‘Trans, meaning across. Sylvania, the woodlands.’ Sally clicked her tongue. ‘Or so they tell me. They did teach Latin at my school, but I did biology instead. There’s a deep irony in there somewhere, probably. Meaning yes,’ she went on. ‘The entire fee-earning staff at Crosswoods are evolved, if that’s what you were trying to ask. I gather it’s the same at that outfit you’re with now.’

  He nodded. ‘You remember me telling you about Luke Ferris, the guy I was at school with? Well, it’s him and his old gang, which I used to belong to.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She frowned. ‘You said you never wanted to see any of them ever again, as long as you lived.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And now you’re in partnership with them.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  She sighed. ‘You’re going to tell me that that’s a classic example of stuff happening.’

  ‘I didn’t want—’ Duncan shrugged. ‘I got fired from Craven Ettins, and there was Luke offering me this job. I said yes, and next thing I knew, I’d been - well, you know.’

  ‘Roughly similar story in my case,’ Sally said, gently massaging her jaw. ‘Except they hired me thinking I’d be, let’s say a suitable case for conversion. Then they weren’t sure, and it took them a while to make up their minds. Soon as they’d decided I was their sort of girl, that was it. I was in. I guess it’d have been nice if they’d asked first, or filled me in on the background, but what the hell. On balance, it’s been a good thing for me. There are certain advantages.’

  A faint click in the back of his mind. ‘You really got in through the kitchen window?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘You didn’t climb up the drainpipe, though.’

  ‘No.’

  He had to nerve himself to say: ‘You can fly?’

  Sally nodded. ‘Goes with the territory. Not particularly well,’ she added. ‘I mean, at one end of the scale you’ve got Concorde, at the other end a chicken. I’m more in the poultry class. I can do vertical lifts and short bursts, fifty yards or so on a good day. But if I wanted to go to New York, I’d have to spend three hours hanging round at Heathrow like everybody else.’

  ‘Even so.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s amazing. How do you—?’

  ‘Search me. It’s like wiggling your toes. You decide to do it, and it happens. Show you if you like.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She nodded again and rose abruptly into the air, stopping just short of nutting herself on the ceiling. She hung there for about ten seconds, then drifted gradually down. ‘Landing’s the tricky part, of course,’ she said. ‘Specially in heels. Either you go flat on your face or you nail yourself to the floor. Still, it comes in handy.’

  Pause. Duncan knew he had to ask, but he really didn’t want to.

  ‘And the other stuff—’ he mumbled.

  ‘Yes.’ She looked away. ‘Mostly we get it from Eastern Europe these days, black-market medical supplies. There’s a sort of running joke in the office. Group O is Ordinaire, A is Appellation Contrôlée . . . You think wine snobs are a pain in the arse, you wait till you hear blood snobs.’

  Duncan breathed out slowly. ‘And sunlight?’

  Sally shook her head. ‘Not so much of a problem these days, thanks to the advances in barrier-cream technology. A good all-over daub with factor thirty and a pair of wraparound shades, and we’re practically normal. Practically,’ she repeated, a little wryly. ‘I mean, beach holidays aren’t a good idea. But so what, we’re lawyers. We know that the secret of attaining happiness lies in starting off with a realistically achievable definition. Only want what you know you can get.’ She grinned. ‘OK, as universal truths go, it’s pretty banal. I mean, it’s a bit like discovering the Holy Grail and finding it’s got 33cl please dispose of tidily written on the side.’

  Whatever, Duncan thought. ‘Can I ask you something,’ he said. ‘Well, two things, actually.’

  ‘You can ask.’

  ‘All right, thanks.’ He took another deep breath. ‘First, why did you dump me like that? Second, what was that phone message all about? I’ve been worried sick.’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, that. Sorry. The truth is, I got absolutely pissed out of my skull.’

  ‘Ah.’

  She nodded. ‘At my gran’s. It was her eightieth birthday party, and I had a small sherry. It’s a metabolism thing, when you’re evolved - something to do with blood sugar. Anyway, I got home, started feeling very sorry for myself, picked up the phone, and that’s all I can remember. I gather I must’ve said something annoying.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Go on, then. What did I say?’

  ‘Help.’

  ‘Oh.’ She pulled a face. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘It’s OK.’

  She clicked her tongue again. ‘About the other thing,’ she said.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It was—’ She looked away again, noticed a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, frowned. ‘Losses are a bit like diamonds. You’ve got to be very careful about cutting them, or you end up doing a lot of rather expensive damage. I should’ve been a bit more sensitive, maybe.’

  ‘Oh.’ But, Duncan thought, doing the mental arithmetic; in that case: ‘So why did you come over here and try to—?’

  Sigh. ‘Isn’t it obvious? You come round to our place asking questions; Imogen, bless her, was absolutely positive that you’d rumbled us, so we thought, there’s only two guaranteed ways of shutting you up, and really, we aren’t all that keen on cold-blooded murder. No pun intended,’ she added. ‘Of course, we didn’t know you’re one of them.’

  Something Micky had said: mixed up with those people. A good case could be made for saying that most of the unhappiness in the world comes from people thinking in italicised pronouns. ‘So,’ he said. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Don’t need to do anything. I mean, you may be an ambulance-chaser rather than a bloodsucker, but we’re all in the same profession. Nothing to worry about any more, we apologise for any inconvenience.’

  ‘Oh.’ He thought about that for a moment. ‘You’re sure that’s all there is to it?’

  ‘Hardly a grey area.’ Sally glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the wall clock. ‘Good heavens, is that the time? I must fly. So to speak. Got an early court appointment.’ She stood up straight, almost started to move. ‘So,’ she said, ‘is it fun, being one of your lot?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. I’m pleased for you. And it was sort of sweet of you to be worried, I guess.’

  ‘Right,’ Duncan said. ‘Why the pound of liver, by the way?’

  She blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘Your mate Ms Bick said you nipped out for a pound of liver, just before you went AWOL.’

  ‘Oh, right. Well, I could spell it out for you, but I seem to remember you’re a bit squeamish around words like dripping and oozing. Just think of it as the equivalent of a flask of coffee, all right?’

  ‘So who did you go to Buenos Aires with?’

  ‘Nobody. One of my aunts lives there, if you must know. I’ll see myself out.’

  A moment later, she’d gone. Through the door this time, like a human being.

  Luke was standing by the front desk when Duncan walked in next morning. Not, he decided, a chance meeting.

  ‘You look rough,’ Luke said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Trouble sleeping?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Luke nodded. ‘Figures,’ he said. ‘Maybe I should’ve mentioned it. Nothing to worry about, it’s quite normal.’

  Duncan looked at him. ‘What’s quite normal?’

  ‘Not being able to sleep the night before a ful
l moon,’ Luke replied. ‘It’s never bothered me, but I know Pete doesn’t even bother getting into bed, because he knows it’s a waste of time trying. Takes different people different ways. Clive reckons he sleeps like a log, but he always gets dreams about drowning in tapioca pudding.’

  The night before full moon; what with Sally disappearing and then materialising in his bedroom when least expected, Duncan had clean forgotten that he had that particular thrill to look forward to. Nonetheless, a side issue. He looked at Luke, braced himself and said, ‘Have you got a moment?’

  ‘Several.’

  ‘I need to ask you - well, tell you something, and then ask. If that’s all right.’

  Luke frowned. ‘Let me guess. Girl trouble.’

  He made it sound like something contagious and antisocial. ‘Sort of. You see, last—’

  ‘They can be a pain in the neck sometimes, can’t they?’

  Duncan nodded slowly. ‘You know about it.’

  ‘Follow me.’

  The small interview room was only small in comparison with the large interview room. You could have held a concert in there, or a slightly cramped football match. In the middle of all that empty space was a table and one chair. Duncan sat in it; Luke perched on the edge of the table.

  ‘What we need,’ Luke said, ‘is strong black coffee and some Viennese fingers.’ He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. A few seconds later, the little bald man who worked the front desk appeared, holding a tray.

  ‘Sugar?’ Luke asked.

  ‘Two.’

  Luke raised his eyebrows. ‘If you’re sure.’ It was, Duncan noticed, a very small teaspoon. ‘All right,’ Luke went on, gnawing the chocolate off the end of a biscuit, ‘let me save you the embarrassment. Last night your ex-wife came to see you.’

  ‘She flew in through the bathroom window.’

  Luke didn’t seem to find anything worthy of comment in that. ‘She tried to recruit you to their side. Didn’t work, of course. She gave you some sort of explanation, then went away. All right so far?’

  Duncan dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. ‘Is that what Micky meant yesterday, when he said I shouldn’t get mixed up with those people? He knew she’s a—’

  Luke laughed. ‘She works for Crosswoods, right? That’s all we needed to know.’ He leaned forward a little. ‘It’s my fault, I suppose. Me and the rest of us, we’ve been through this whole thing together, from the start. We found all the stuff out as we went along - there wasn’t any need for briefings and putting anybody in the picture. Now you’ve joined us, not having a clue about any of this. I guess I should’ve taken the trouble to fill you in.’

  Pause. If Luke was expecting him to say something, Duncan didn’t know what it was. ‘Maybe it would’ve been nice,’ he said.

  ‘Well, there you go,’ Luke said briskly. ‘Listen, there’s something you need to understand, about their lot and our lot. We don’t get on. I’m not saying we’re the good guys and they’re the baddies, it really isn’t like that. It’s more a case of cats and dogs. Bats and dogs would be more appropriate, but anyhow: it’s a feud, basically. I imagine that at some point, a long time ago, one of us pissed off one of them, or vice versa, God only knows what about. Ever since, there’s been bad blood, if you see what I mean. We don’t like them, they don’t like us. It’s not exactly open war - I mean, we don’t go looking for a fight, nor do they, mostly - but if the opportunity comes along, naturally we do what we can to screw them over, so long as it doesn’t lead to serious escalation.’ He sighed. ‘It’s stupid, really. It’d be much better if we could all just get along peacefully. I mean, all that hatred and intolerance stuff, it’s so human, we should be above that kind of thing. On the other hand,’ he added, with a trace of a grin, ‘when we do manage to get one over on them, it’s sort of fun.’

  ‘Fun,’ Duncan repeated.

  ‘Fun,’ Luke said firmly, in an and-that’s-an-order kind of a voice. ‘Relieves the boredom a bit, which is always welcome. Probably why we do it. Anyway, that’s beside the point. What you need to remember is, Romeo and Juliet and star-crossed lovers are all very well for teenagers, but we’re grown-ups now; so if you’re still carrying a torch, I suggest you switch it off and bury it somewhere. All right?’

  Not a good time to argue the toss with the alpha. ‘Sure,’ Duncan said. ‘It was all over a long time ago.’

  ‘Really. Which explains why you go off the rails as soon as she whistles for you.’ He twitched his nose. ‘You realise you were set up.’

  Duncan looked up sharply. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Use your intelligence. Come on, you’re one of us now. Or maybe you’re too close to it to see, I suppose that’d be understandable. All right, I’ll spell it out.’ Luke took another biscuit and ate it before continuing. ‘There you are at Craven Ettins, and in the ordinary course of business you get a call from some tart at Crosswoods. In conversation, you ask after your ex. Fair enough: you don’t know their dark secret. They don’t want humans taking an interest in them, also understandable. It’s obvious she left you because she was about to be recruited; even you can see that, I’m sure.’

  ‘She said that wasn’t the reason.’

  ‘I bet she did. The sad fact is, though, that sometimes people don’t tell the truth. Even lawyers.’ Luke grinned. ‘So,’ he went on, ‘they start figuring that if you’ve got it into your head that you wouldn’t mind giving it another go, and you start hanging round her, calling her, all that - needless to say, her bosses wouldn’t be happy. Fine; they tell you to piss off, they get her to tell you, in no uncertain terms. Problem solved. But then they find out you’ve left Craven’s and joined us. And they know what we are, goes without saying.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Luke smiled. ‘It’s a small community, we all know each other. So, it’s suddenly a different ball game. Now they do things a bit different, their lot. We recruit straight away - well, you know that, Day One and we go straight for the jugular, no messing about, it’s the canine way. Their lot like to take things a bit more slowly. You start off on probation: they let you in on the secret, and then you’ve got to prove you’re worthy for a week or so before they actually sink the teeth in. I’m assuming that Crosswoods assumed that we do something similar; in which case, there’d be a fair chance that we wouldn’t have bitten you yet. Hence their cunning plan: to piss us off by snatching you from under our noses, so to speak. Get you before we can, turn you into one of them. I don’t know if they just wanted to be annoying or whether they had something sneakier in mind - have you as some kind of undercover agent or whatever. It’s a bit technical, but basically, they don’t have the invulnerability thing that we do. It’s swings and roundabouts, because they’re completely immortal unless they get the old two-by-four through the heart or they go out in the sunlight without the special make-up. Anyway: if they’d recruited you first, I could still have bitten you without needing a trip to the dentist afterwards, but it wouldn’t have had any effect. Result: we’d have thought you were one of us, but you’d really have been one of them. Just a theory,’ Luke added, ‘and it’s entirely possible they weren’t planning anything so devious. But it’s what I’d have done in their shoes, if I’d thought of it. But there’re other explanations. Like I said, it could just be spite, or maybe the girl’s still fond of you and—’ He shrugged. ‘No matter. The phone call and the cry for help were just bait, of course. Probably she never went missing at all, that was just to snag your attention. Anyhow.’ Luke stood up, stretched his legs and appropriated the last Viennese finger. ‘Now you know the score, and the bottom line is, stay well clear. We may decide that honour calls for reprisals at some stage - I haven’t made my mind up yet - but as and when we do them over, it’s got to be a pack decision and organised entirely by me. It’s too complicated an issue for lone wolves. All right?’

  Even if he’d had the courage, Duncan wasn’t sure he’d have been physically capable of displaying dissent. A voice that, by
a process of elimination, had to have come from him said, ‘Understood.’ And that, apparently, was that.

  ‘Fine. Glad we’ve cleared that up, and like I said, maybe I should’ve put you in the picture right from the off. Anyway: serious talk now over, the rest of the day’s your own. Oh.’ Luke stopped, and frowned. ‘Nearly forgot. There’s a punter to see you. I parked her in the big interview room, you’d better get down there sharpish before she starts climbing the walls. Something to do with that funny estate of yours, the one where the accounts won’t balance.’ Grin. ‘In your shoes I’d be inclined to anticipate a bollocking, unless you’ve got the clients really well trained.’

  Shit, Duncan mused, as he darted back to his office for the files. He really wasn’t in the mood for anything to do with Bowden Allshapes deceased right then. Volcanoes had been erupting right across his world lately, heaving up new mountains and submerging the familiar, old continents under the sea, and all the maps he’d carefully drawn of his life over the years were now just so much waste paper. There were serious issues to be addressed urgently, matters of identity, self-image and quite possibly true love. He simply didn’t have the time or the energy to be bothered with silly old work.

  ‘Sorry you’ve been kept waiting, I was in a—’ Duncan’s words had preceded him into the room. But as soon as he saw the person sitting opposite the door, on the client’s side of the table, something seemed to happen to his mouth, or possibly his brain. He stood and gawped for a good five seconds.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Felicity Allshapes. Are you Duncan Hughes?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Great to meet you at last. I love being able to put a face to a name.’

  The Australian accent helped, a bit. Australia is a wonderful country, just coming into its glorious prime as a nation, but its inhabitants, when they speak, do tend to sound rather as though they’re chewing toffee. They don’t immediately put you in mind of goddesses or angels. To a certain extent, this helped break the spell. Duncan was just about able to speak.

  ‘Um,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry to barge in like this,’ she went on, ‘I know how really busy you are, and it’s so kind of you to spare me a few minutes. But I had to come to London on business at literally an hour’s notice, and I thought that while I was here—’