by Richard Amos
Chapter Six
It was two in the morning by the time we got home. The Christmas lights ceremony had gone down without any incident, finishing at eleven. But we’d stayed, making sure no one got picked off when heading home. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t a killing somewhere else in the city, of course, but we’d encountered no beast in our constant patrolling. Not everyone could be saved. I just hoped every single one of those attendees made it home safe to talk about how pretty the tree was, how excited they were about the big day in a couple of weeks, all while drinking some hot chocolate with their slippers on.
Idealistic thinking was hard to swallow.
I couldn’t sleep. The others had gone to bed, but I had too much energy buzzing through me, all of it of the pissed off variety. The white eye guy pushed my buttons over and over, a constant poke, poke, poke. I wanted him dead so fucking bad, to have my revenge, to slay him for Michael.
I pulled on a vest and some shorts and hit the gym that was once a ballroom.
After half an hour of frantically punching the hell out of the punch bag, I paused, drenched with sweat. It’d helped a little with the tension relieving.
“Thought I heard something,” Dean said behind me.
I turned to face him, pushing some of my damp hair from my forehead with a gloved hand. He was leaning against the door frame in pajama bottoms and an open coat that revealed his six-pack and sculpted chest beneath. I could smell the cold and the cigarettes on him.
“Bad habit, those ciggies,” I said.
He nodded. “Crap at quitting.”
“I miss it,” I said. “And that’s a terrible thing to say.”
“Gonna state the obvious, but I gather you can’t sleep?”
“Needed to blow off some steam,” I said.
“That white-eyed bastard will do that to you.”
“Every bloody time.”
His eyes roamed over me and a pulse of heat went through me. “You fancy a cuppa?”
He said it so seductively I had to lick my lips in order to respond. “Er, yeah … that’ll be great.”
“Unless you wanna keep working on your future boxing career?”
I chuffed. “I don’t think so.” I removed the gloves and followed him to the dining room.
“Take a seat,” he said. “I’ll stick the kettle on.”
He had the teas made in a matter of minutes.
We sat opposite one another. He slipped his coat off and sat there topless. The mansion was so quiet save for the sounds of the wind and sea outside and the ticking of clocks.
“How you doing?” he asked.
“Fine, I guess.”
“You must really miss your family.”
I hadn’t really talked about them before. “I guess.”
He sipped his tea.
“I don’t talk to my dad,” I said, letting the words flow without really knowing why. “We fell out big time. My mum passed away ten years ago when I was sixteen.”
“She missed the modelling stuff,” Dean said.
“She did. She would’ve loved it. My mum was majorly into fashion. Subscribed to many magazines. She did go to some fashion shows too.”
“You shared that fashion thing?”
“Yeah, we did. But I was more into appreciation and wearing clothes, she actually made them.”
“Cool. Did she have her own business?”
“Yeah, but it folded when she got cancer. Broke my dad, my sister, all of us. I really miss her.” I took a swig of my tea. “I miss all of them. If I could, I’d make it up with my dad right now. I don’t know if he’d listen, but I’d try. And my sister.”
“You don’t talk to her?”
“I do talk to her. We’ve always been close—must be the twin thing.”
He nodded.
“You see …” I sighed. “Shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“You can if you want, mate.”
“Hard.”
“Then just have some tea and chill out.”
For some reason, I wanted to talk. “When Michael died, I really hit rock bottom with the drugs and booze. I didn’t know I could sink deeper than I already had. It messed me up to no end, especially as he died just after we had a fight.” I drew a deep breath. “I tried to kill myself. I pumped cocaine, vodka and an overdose of sleeping pills into my system and got in the bath. Nearly did kill me. If it wasn’t for Jessica, my sister, I would’ve been brown bread.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Fucked up. My dad went mental at me once I’d recovered. And I ended up saying some terrible things to him about mum and …” My eyes burned. “Things I didn’t mean, but …” Some tears escaped.
“Ah, Jake. Maybe you should stop, yeah?”
“No, it’s fine.” I wiped my eyes.
He came around the table to sit next to me, putting an arm around me. Man, he was so warm. The smell of cigarettes was gone, his normal spicy aroma resuming.
“My sister was pretty traumatized by the whole thing and really got on my case about it. Good for her. Someone had to. But it wasn’t until I found out I could track down the white eye guy if I got my head together that I sorted myself out. I got clean, I got strong and let anger be my drug.”
“You’ve really been through some stuff.”
I wanted to lean into him, but resisted even though his shoulder would be nice and comfy.
Dean took his arm away. “But here you are,” he said.
“Here I am.”
“I think your dad would talk to you, mate. I really do. He’s your dad.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Will he ever remember me if the city gets saved? What’ll happen then? Will everyone get their memories back?”
Dean blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. “I wish I had an answer for you, Jake.”
“And what about your girlfriend?”
He shook his head. “Even if she does, there’s nothing there. We were at the end of whatever we had. I told you, our life together wasn’t great. In fact, I was gonna leave.”
Just like Michael was leaving you …
“Oh.” I dry swallowed.
“Or she was, one of us was. She wanted marriage and kids, I didn’t. She deserves better.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Bit like Greg and Crystal, right? Well, without the beast thing.”
“I guess.”
“Though Greg would’ve probably married her if it hadn’t been for Coldharbour’s curse or the fact that she was a crazy murdering beast.”
Poor Greg. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“What for?”
“Just that it was all fading away.”
“Happens, mate. She wasn’t the one. More of a friend I guess. Wouldn’t have been fair to drag it beyond where it was. I really hope she’s married some awesome bloke, or is off having the time of her life as a single woman, not settling for anything less than fun. And I mean that. If she does remember me, I’ll meet up with her and wish her well. Still might fight her Cuddles, though. Do miss that cat.”
I chuckled. “What about altering her mind?”
“Na, wouldn’t do that. Would rather make it end without putting the mojo on her.”
“Good,” I said. “I like that. But still kinda sad.”
“No, what would’ve been sad was for me to stay. I’d already stayed too long.”
She wasn’t the one …
Maybe the detective was the one or could be. I didn’t give voice to that.
I gulped down my tea. “I’m really sweaty. Need a shower and should probably try getting some sleep.”
“Good idea,” he said, standing up. “Was nice chatting with you.”
“Thanks for the tea, Dean.”
He nodded and left the room.
It took me a few minutes to get myself up and head upstairs.
She wasn’t the one …
Chapter Seven
“These are the best pancakes I’ve ever had,” I proclaimed, shoving another forkful
into my mouth.
“You are too kind, sir,” Mr. Douglas said, filling up a jug with orange juice.
Strawberries, blueberries and maple syrup danced in my mouth with the pancake, an explosion of sweet flavors and fluffiness. Man, they were some fluffy pancakes. The guy was a culinary wizard.
Mr. Douglas left the dining room, disappearing into the kitchen.
I swallowed my food. “Seriously,” I said, “these are bangin’.”
Greg nodded, stuffing some into his mouth.
Dean had already wolfed down three.
“Don’t like pancakes much,” Nay said, dipping her toast into the yolk of an egg.
“These ain’t no ordinary pancakes,” I said. “I reckon you’ll be converted with just one bite.”
“With that much syrup on them?”
“That is a lot, Jakey,” Greg said.
“I love me some syrup.”
Nay quirked an eyebrow. “There’s loving syrup and then there’s crossing over into obsession.”
“Can’t help my sweet tooth,” I said.
“Have you seen him with the chocolate biscuits?” Greg said.
Nay giggled. “He does love his choccie biccies.”
“He is sitting right here,” I said, piling up my fork.
“You see how big a bite that is?” Greg responded to Nay.
“I see it,” she replied. “You think he’ll get it all in?”
“Let’s see.”
“What the hell?”
“He’s thinking about it,” Nay said.
“Maybe it’s too much,” Greg offered. “But he looks like he’s up for the challenge.” He snorted.
“You’re a dirty bastard,” I barked.
“Tough one to call,” Nay added.
I rolled my eyes and stuffed the food in my mouth. Okay, so I’d overloaded the fork, and now my jaws were working overtime.
“A struggle,” Greg said. “But he did it. Told you he liked a challenge.”
I put my fork down and crossed my arms, frowning and chewing like a cow. It was then I noticed what was going on outside.
It was another gray morning, clouds all swollen with rain. However, it wasn’t rain. It was snow.
I nodded my head at the window and hummed what would have been ‘look outside’ if my teeth hadn’t been busy.
“Maybe we’ll get a white Christmas,” Nay said.
The flakes looked quite heavy, no gentle flurry.
“Good job I changed the Audi’s tires for this shit,” Greg said. “I hate the snow.”
His latest vehicle was a blue Audi hatchback he’d got his hands on from central Coldharbour.
“How come?” I asked.
“Causes so many bloody problems in this country.”
“Yeah, but it’s so pretty. We don’t get it much in London. If it does snow, it melts so fast.”
“Remind me to move to London,” he said.
“Scrooge,” I replied.
“Eat your pancakes, Jakey.”
I laughed and had another bite. Not because I was obeying my master, but because I needed more of it in my mouth.
“Good morning.” Karla came into the room and sat at the head of the table. Mr. Douglas returned with a pot of tea, a china cup and saucer, and a blueberry muffin.
“You made blueberry muffins?” I said.
“I did, sir. Would you like some?”
“I, er, maybe later. Definitely later.”
“Very well, sir.” He went off to the kitchen once more.
“I have been consulting with Floyd for most of the night,” she said, pouring herself some tea.
I hated that talking beast head!
“He still has no further information on the white-eyed gentleman, but does insist on repeating the fact that Jake is seen as a gift as well as a target. It has a connection to this beast priesthood.”
“When is he just gonna spill?” Greg said. “He knows more than he lets on.”
“He says he does not have enough blood,” Karla said. “Mice and rats are not enough to feed him.”
I paused before taking another bite of my breakfast, a vision of Floyd’s black teeth tearing through rodent flesh was enough to do that.
“What does he want?” Nay asked.
“Bigger.”
“How bigger?”
Karla sighed. “He wants a pig.”
“What the hell?” I said.
“Apparently it was his favorite food when he was of full body and not our slave—his words, not mine.”
“We can’t give him a pig,” I said.
“Why not?” Dean asked. “What’s the difference between the rats and a pig?”
“A big difference.”
“He wants it to be alive as he feasts,” Karla said.
“But he’s only a head, that means—” I gagged.
“Someone will have to assist him,” Karla finished my sentence.
“I’ll do it,” Dean said.
“You do not need to,” Karla answered. “I can—”
“Really,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
“I’ll help,” Greg added.
The crazy gits!
“It gets the job done and maybe gets us some answers,” Dean said.
Karla fingered her teacup. “There is no guarantee he will give us anything. He is a slippery fellow.”
“But sometimes he does, right?” Dean said.
“Indeed.”
“Then we’ll help.”
“Thank you—both of you.” She sipped her tea.
“Where the hell are you gonna get a live pig from?” I wondered.
“Gross,” Nay said. “So, so gross.”
“Amen to that,” I said.
“The city farm,” Greg answered me. “Sits in the east side of Coldharbour, not too far from the leisure center.”
“There’s a city farm?” Just like in London.
“Yeah. Goblins look after it with the human owners—obviously without the humans knowing. Weave up the food and all the stuff to keep the animals going.”
“And some poor pig is gonna meet a really nasty end.” I shook my head. “That’s fucked up. Why can’t we just make it quick?”
“Floyd will not accept that,” Karla said.
“Fuck Floyd!” I really, really hated that talking head!
“There is no choice,” Karla added.
“I know that.” And I did. Of course, I did. We needed to know who the beast priesthood were. Floyd was the only one who had answers. Luke didn’t have a clue. Other than Floyd, there was the option of capturing another beast to grill. It wasn’t really an option, actually. The beast worked with blood magic which was super-rare and had the power to see and reveal, or even hide. He was probably doing all three just to play with us. I don’t know how Karla put up with him living in her study.
I sighed. “So, when do we get the pig?”
“You do not need to worry about any of this,” Karla said. “Only the results.”
“No, I can’t leave you guys to do the dirty work.”
“You must,” she said. “I would rather you not help with this one, Jake.”
“What if you need a beast put down or something?”
“Please, do not let it bother you. Focus on your training and your job.”
Her tone was a little condescending, but I let it go. “Fine.”
“I will make arrangements,” she said.
My appetite had left the building.
“Right,” Greg said. “We’d better be—”
His phone rang.
“Who is it?” Nay asked.
“Bliss,” he replied, taking the call. “Hi? What’s up?”
What did the werewolves want?
“Right … yeah. Oh, shit. Okay. Hang on … Karla?”
“What is it?” she said.
“There’s been an incident in Greenoaks. Five people killed, as well as a goblin, in a pharmacy.”
“Oh, no,” Nay said.
“There are three beasts trapped in the store and the police have been called.”
Dean was out of his seat. “Let’s go.”
“Karla?” Greg said.
“Dean and Jake will handle this,” she said. “I want you and Naomi to patrol Rainbow Mile as planned.”
Greg nodded. “Bliss?” he said into the phone. “We’re sending Jake and Dean over now. Hold tight.” He hung up. “Sounds real bad.”
“Must be,” Nay said.
“Wait,” Karla said. “You should all go.”
“What about the seafront?”
“The situation over there could escalate. It would be foolish to send Jake with only one guardian, werewolf presence or no. I want you all to stick together.” She pulled out her phone and spoke the name Sabrina West into it—the werewolf pack Alpha. “Good morning, Sabrina. Bliss has just informed me of the situation. I am sending everyone over. Yes, yes. I will you need to send two of your wolves to cover the patrols here. Yes. Yes, indeed. Three? That would be wonderful. Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Three wolves?” Nay said. “Wow, she must be feeling generous.”
“Now, now, she is willing to help when she can—though I know it irritates her deeply. After all, we are all in this together. Go, all of you. Enough time has been wasted already.”
Chapter Eight
The werewolves normally dealt with things themselves up in the northwest of the city—somewhere I hadn’t been yet. Sabrina West ran her pack from Ashwood Manor, a sprawling estate on the edge of Coldharbour that was apparently rather impressive on the eye.
If the wolves had a beast problem, they’d do the culprit some serious harm and get the facility involved—another place I hadn’t been nor wanted to visit where the now barebones staff would lock away a beast down in the dark. The wolves had only involved me once before.
I got out of the car, looking up at Greenoaks. It was a huge shopping center—a behemoth of a retail hub. There were police cars everywhere—armed police. The gray morning was given a burst of color by blue lights.
Oh, shit.
The snow was falling really heavy, like feathers from an exploded pillow. Greg’s snow tires had worked a dream getting us there quickly. Apparently they had a little help from one of Nay’s magical concoctions.