“What does that mean?” asked Oksa.
“Stop interrupting him the whole time and let him speak,” grunted Gus.
“The love hunt,” continued Naftali, “was simply the means by which these males, who were incapable of experiencing love themselves, stole other people’s passionate feelings. For this, they’d travel in the utmost secrecy to Green-Mantle, Peak Ridge or Thousandeye City, where they’d seek out men and women of all ages who were in love. They would then hypnotize them and take possession of their feelings by inhaling them, which earned them the name of Snufflers. For many years, no one was able to explain this strange phenomenon. It was called Beloved Detachment because suddenly, overnight, people stopped loving the man or woman they’d been madly in love with the night before. And no wonder: their capacity for passion and love had been stolen from them for all eternity! In the years before the Ageless Ones stepped in, Edefia was held in the grip of an obsessive fear. No one knew exactly what was going on, so people spoke of a Love Plague and the leading Granokologists tried to invent substances to combat this terrible affliction. However, they met with no success. One day Coxo, the most ravenous of the Snufflers, was caught red-handed: he’d just seized the love of the Young Gracious who was due to be married a few days later. The game was up for them and the Diaphans were for ever banished to Retinburn.”
“That’s sickening,” grimaced Oksa.
“Diabolical,” added Tugdual.
“Coming back to the Werewalls: everything began with Temistocles,” explained Naftali.
“Temistocles was a Firmhand who was born in 1516 and died a violent death in 1648, as you’ll find out. He was a dedicated scientist, who focused his research on the properties of rocks and minerals. His work led to great advances in medicine using stones, but his research didn’t stop there. He soon moved on from chemistry to alchemy, particularly transmutatory alchemy.”
“What’s that?” asked Marie in a small voice.
“Simply put, transmutatory alchemy is the transformation of one material into another. The Outsiders were of course passionately interested in the transformation of base metal into gold. However, in Edefia, the Firmhands could already perform that kind of miraculous feat, because they possessed the ability to transform certain rocks into diamonds. Temistocles wasn’t particularly interested in immortality, which was also one of the great utopian dreams for alchemists. What fascinated him was our frontier, that mantle of light which no one had ever managed to cross. This was his ultimate dream, his life’s work: to pass through that frontier. His constant search for new materials led him to take an interest in the shining rock of Retinburn. A Diaphan, seeing that he was struggling to get near the rock because it was so bright, made contact with him. It was over 400 years since the Diaphans had seen a living soul! This Diaphan provided his providential visitor with fragments of the blindingly bright rock. Temistocles called it the Luminescent Stone and researched it endlessly, convinced that he had an exceptional material in his hands. And he was right. Shortly afterwards, the Diaphan, aware that Temistocles represented an unexpected opportunity, offered him a deal he couldn’t turn down: he would tell him a secret about the transmutation of matter in exchange for a young person’s feelings of love. When he heard this, Temistocles rushed to Peak Ridge, drugged a young man who was about to be betrothed and brought him back to Retinburn. The Snuffler went about his awful business, forever depriving the boy of passion, and, in exchange, revealed the secret of the Diaphans: Coxo, the ancestral Snuffler, had developed a fabulous formula which made it possible to transform matter into particles! You can imagine Temistocles’ delight—after years of research, his work had just taken a gigantic leap forward.”
“You mean he wasn’t bluffing?” asked Oksa in amazement. “The formula really existed?”
“Yes, Oksa,” replied Naftali simply.
“You… you wouldn’t happen to know the ingredients, would you?” asked the Young Gracious.
“Actually, yes I do.”
Dragomira couldn’t help crying out in surprise. Around her, the Runaways shifted uneasily on their seats, taken aback by these revelations and yet impatient to know more.
“The formula given to Temistocles that day by the Diaphan was incomplete; the centuries had taken their toll on memory. The Diaphan was in no doubt about the first two ingredients: a cube of Luminescent Stone measuring one and a quarter inches across plus 4.2 fluid ounces, or 125 millilitres, of the blood of the person concerned. The third ingredient was much less exact: it was a plant whose roots, stems and leaves had to be crushed and which acted as a catalyst for the previous two ingredients. Then the Diaphan decided to present Temistocles with the fourth ingredient: a small phial of inestimable value.”
“What was that?” asked Oksa, holding her breath.
“After snuffling up the loving feelings of their poor innocent victims, the Diaphans experienced a period of euphoria. Strangely this state caused a black, viscous substance to flow from what remained of their noses. And the little phial which was given to Temistocles contained the vile tarry substance collected from the nostrils of Coxo in person, 400 years earlier.”
“That’s disgusting!” cried Oksa.
“Fascinating,” added Tugdual.
“Gross!” added Gus. “It makes me think of ‘the love hormone’.”
“What’s that?” asked Oksa, narrowing her eyes.
“Scientists are studying the phenomenon closely: apparently, when you fall in love, the body secretes a stimulating hormone, which is similar to certain hard drugs. People can even sometimes get totally hooked on it and that sounds like what happened with the Diaphans, doesn’t it? And the most amazing thing is that the body is capable of locating this hormone by smell.”
“That’s incredible,” remarked Oksa.
“You’ve hit the nail right on the head, Gus,” added Naftali. “The problem was that the Diaphans had become hooked on the human love hormone.”
“But why do you say that Coxo’s ‘substance’ was of inestimable value?” went on Oksa. “What made it more valuable than any produced by the other Diaphans?”
“Coxo was an inventor of genius,” replied Naftali.
“A crazy sorcerer, you mean—a psychopath!” broke in Dragomira. “I read a few articles about him in the Memorary. He was totally unscrupulous and capable of boundless cruelty.”
“That’s true,” continued Naftali, defensively. “When I say genius, it’s just because he succeeded where everyone else had failed. I’m not denying that he was a contemptible man, but he was the first person to master transmutation. When Temistocles continued his quest, 400 years later, it took him a few years of relentless hard work to reach his goal.”
“He discovered the missing ingredient in the end?” suggested Oksa. “It was a Goranov, wasn’t it?”
“How did you know that?” asked Gus.
“A plant which acts as a catalyst, Gus, remember…”
“Oh yes, of course!”
“You’re right, Oksa,” nodded Naftali, “it was a Goranov.”
“But that’s sacrifice!” cried Oksa indignantly. “That’s revolting… the poor Goranovs! Did Temistocles kill many?”
“You can be sure of it,” confirmed Naftali. “Until he finally mastered the composition of his elixir, called the Werewall, which reduced the body to particles so that it was permeable to solid materials like stone, wood, metal, etc.”
“You mean this Werewall allowed people to walk through walls?” asked Oksa, stunned.
“Exactly,” replied Naftali, as all his friends exclaimed in amazement.
“A way of walking through walls,” murmured Gus. “Can you imagine what an awesome ability that would be?”
“Yes, Gus, it’s an incredible gift,” agreed Naftali. “But Temistocles didn’t stop at that. After his great success in passing through stone walls, windows, sheets of metal and solid rock, he tried to cross Edefia’s mantle—which is what he’d wanted all along. But he struck a
wall, make no mistake. A wall of light against which his elixir, despite being ultra-powerful, was no more effective than a glass of water. The alchemist was bitterly disappointed at this, and the defeat almost destroyed him. But he hadn’t lost all hope, so he made the last-ditch attempt which ended up killing him: entering the Cloak Chamber to discover the solution to his problem. Of course, he didn’t know about the Secret-Never-To-Be-Told, but he instinctively knew he might find some interesting clues in there. One night he slipped inside the Glass Column, avoiding the guards by using his Werewall elixir, and entered the legendary Chamber. What did he find? No one knows, because what came out was a horribly deformed, mindless shell of a man: Temistocles was dead. A few months later his only son, who had helped his father in his research in the last years of his life, secretly founded the Secret Society of the Werewalls and the tradition was carried on. In the gloom of an underground passage in Retinburn, the Society brought together some of the leading chemists in Edefia. Dressed in long robes and masked by cowls, which showed only their eyes, these chemists became alchemists to advance their common cause, driven by a fierce desire to pass through the mantle of light. But, Oksa, to answer your question about the phial given to Temistocles, you should be aware that Coxo experimented on himself extensively, which ended up drastically altering his DNA. And if I tell you that he was the father of human shape-shifting, you’ll understand more easily why the small phial given by the Diaphan to Temistocles possessed such singular value.”
Naftali broke off for a moment and a heavy silence descended over the group.
“That’s incredible,” spluttered Oksa, always the first to react. “So, if I understand correctly, the Werewalls used the Snufflers’ black mucus to walk through walls… but only Temistocles succeeded in shape-shifting, because of Coxo’s mucus, is that right?”
“Exactly, Oksa!” replied Naftali, looking stricken by the tense mood his story had created. “Temistocles and his descendants.”
“Naftali, some of us have a broad idea of the Werewalls’ history,” commented Abakum, looking serious. “But I don’t think this part of your story can be found in Edefia’s archives, or anywhere else for that matter. So, please don’t be offended, but how do you know all this?”
“I know there have been many rumours about the Werewalls and your reactions when I uttered that name a while ago confirmed that some of you knew more about them than you wanted to say. But it’s true that no one among you can know the details I’ve just given you, because I got them from my mother, who was a reformed Werewall.”
“You mean?…” said Dragomira disbelievingly, not daring to ask the fateful question.
Naftali fixed his green eyes on her and, in a dejected voice, replied:
“Yes, Dragomira. I hate to say it, but my mother was once a Werewall.”
Dragomira gave a cry and everyone looked at Naftali with a mixture of amazement and horror. The Swedish giant’s face darkened with deep sadness.
“My mother was a chemist,” he continued bravely. “One day, she was contacted by the Werewalls and she joined their Secret Society, seduced by the idea of leaving Edefia. She drank the elixir and, in company with the other members, continued the research carried out since Temistocles. But the Master of the Werewalls wanted to produce greater quantities of the elixir in anticipation of what he believed was their imminent success. This unfortunately meant that the Diaphans had to revive their ancestral vice to provide the legendary black mucus. The early part of the twentieth century was a fairly turbulent period: a growing number of Edefians suddenly stopped loving the objects of their affection and the whole nation was concerned. The terrible history of the Diaphan Snufflers had been forgotten a long time ago—remember, it had happened eight centuries before. But everyone was looking for explanations. Increasingly pessimistic theories gradually created an atmosphere of doubt and fear throughout Edefia. Some people thought our world was on the decline, others that it had been cursed by the Ageless Ones. My mother couldn’t tolerate the cruelty of the Werewalls and their alliance with the Diaphans. She left the Secret Society under threat of seeing her whole family massacred if she breathed a single word about them. Unfortunately, all this took place after my birth.”
“Why unfortunately?” asked Tugdual sharply.
“It’s because of the DNA, isn’t it?” broke in Oksa.
“Yes, because of the DNA,” confirmed Naftali sombrely. “Once the elixir is ingested, it’s passed down from generation to generation.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tugdual, interrupting him. “You’re telling us that you’re a Werewall?”
Everyone instantly looked dismayed. Abakum shut his eyes, as if wanting to be left alone with his own thoughts, and Dragomira immediately hid her face in her hands.
“The Werewall gene is in my blood,” continued Naftali. “And you can imagine how much I regret that.”
“So I’m a Werewall too then!” said Tugdual, sitting up straight in his armchair, his eyes shining. “That’s brilliant…”
“Yes,” admitted Naftali, looking demoralized. “Like the descendants of every member of the Secret Society, we possess the Werewall gene.”
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Dragomira. “But don’t worry, my friend, none of us can hold you responsible for mistakes made by your forebears. You’re first and foremost one of the Runaways, no one can dispute it. You’ve adequately proved your loyalty over the years.”
“Thanks, Dragomira,” murmured Naftali, touched by Baba Pollock’s words.
“But you were telling us earlier that you had a revelation to make about Orthon-McGraw,” she continued apprehensively. “What’s his connection with this story?”
“The connection is, Dragomira, that the last Master Werewall was none other than Ocious. So Orthon is a Werewall—and, what’s more, he’s descended from the founder, Temistocles, the man who invented human shape-shifting.”
75
HEARTS AND CLUBS
OKSA AND GUS SLIPPED OUT A LITTLE LATER, LEAVING the adults to chat in the living room. Their heads were buzzing with all they’d seen and heard and they couldn’t stop talking about the day’s revelations.
“I don’t know what’s more amazing,” said Gus, lying stretched out on Oksa’s bed. “What with Memory-Swipe, Thought-Adder, Pearls of Longevity, Diaphan Snufflers and Werewalls—we’re spoilt for choice!”
Oksa, on the other hand, was performing a few kung-fu moves, pivoting her body and slowly moving her outstretched hands.
“You’re not kidding,” she murmured, narrowing her eyes.
“May I come in?”
Tugdual had just poked his head around the half-open door and was watching Oksa with an intrigued expression.
“What are you doing, venerable lil’ Gracious?” he asked, smiling.
Her only reply was to throw her leg out abruptly in his direction as if to kick him in the ribs. Tugdual sidestepped her attack and, to her surprise, winked at her. He then joined Gus on the bed.
“So what do you reckon about today?” he said. “Mind-blowing or what?”
Oksa flopped into her big beanbag and looked at the two boys, twisting the bottom of her T-shirt around her index finger. Gus, her lifelong friend with so many qualities and hang-ups, her faithful companion… and, beside him, Tugdual, a strange, gloomy and charismatic boy who made her heart leap every time she saw him.
“That’s just what we were saying before you showed up,” replied Gus in a dull voice, with just an undertone of aggression.
Oksa felt a surge of agitation at Gus’s reaction, as if a small acid bomb had exploded inside her and was eating its way through her heart. Tugdual propped himself up on one elbow and gazed at her with his steely blue eyes.
“I was totally blown away by the Lunatrix,” he said, without taking his eyes off Oksa. “To think he’s always known how to find Edefia! When it comes to discretion, he really takes the biscuit…”
“Your grandfather doesn’t do too badly in that respect eith
er,” said Gus disdainfully, staring at the ceiling. “Waiting more than fifty years before you talk about your origins is a little more than discretion, isn’t it?”
“Well, everyone protects what they have to protect,” replied Tugdual enigmatically.
“What are you getting at?” Gus asked immediately, with an edge to his voice.
“Do you think your parents would’ve told you about their past, if Oksa hadn’t borne the Mark?” replied the sombre young man coldly.
“Ouch! That will have hurt,” thought Oksa. Although it was hard to defend Gus when he’d definitely been asking for it. What had got into him? He was usually so friendly… Gus, who was still stretched out on the bed, lost no time in replying.
“Anyway, it’s no worse than having blood tainted by sacrificed Goranovs and hormones taken from loads of people who’ve had their lives ruined,” he muttered belligerently. “When it comes to family secrets, I think we’re just about quits, aren’t we?”
“I guess so,” sighed Tugdual. “I don’t think there’s anybody on this planet who can control their origins… what about you, lil’ Gracious? What do you think about all this?”
“Me?”
Oksa felt a hot wave of embarrassment flood her whole body, including her cheeks, which turned scarlet. She felt as stupid as she’d done the day she’d chatted to Tugdual in the cemetery. It was so pathetic! She had to get a grip.
“I think the Lunatrix knows much more than he’s letting on,” she said, sounding confident despite her agitation. “I trust him, though, because I think he’ll know better than anybody else when it’s the right time to divulge his secrets. And that’s borne out by the fact that he won’t tell us anything about Edefia’s location until we’re ready.”
“You’re not entirely wrong,” agreed Tugdual. “But what would happen if he died?”
Oksa couldn’t help giving a small nervous laugh.
“You’re unreal! Why would you want him to die?”
Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope Page 45