by Roy Gill
The atmosphere in the room seemed to clear as Janus put the tray down on the bench, and handed out two further goblets. Morgan sniffed at his dubiously.
Cameron, who’d learned to be cautious accepting food and drink on the Parallel, waited a discrete interval before setting his down. “Janus, you seem to know exactly why we’re here –”
“Past. Future. Insight.” Janus waved a hand. “What part of that don’t you understand?”
“So I’m going to get straight to the point,” said Cameron. “Will you help?”
“Replace the ward? No.” Janus leaned forward and whipped the cloth from the tray. A stone dagger nestled on a satin cushion. “Not unless you pay.”
“Pay how?” said Cameron, acutely aware all eyes in the carriage were now fixed on the knife.
“Well… what do you think such powerful magic would be worth?” Janus ran his finger along the blade, while the tongue in his left mouth described an equally languid route along his teeth. His right face gave Cameron a direct look. “Come now… I am a Roman God after all. You can’t ask for help without a sacrifice.”
Cameron’s mouth twitched in disgust. “Me and Morgan – and Eve too – we’re good at finding things. Anything you want from the Human World or the Parallel, we’re the guys who could get it. But not that. I’d never hurt anyone.” He stood up and beckoned to his friends. “We shouldn’t have come.”
“Pity,” said Janus. “Your grandmother came better prepared.”
Cameron closed his eyes. “I’m not her.”
“You lack her courage.”
“He really doesn’t,” said Morgan, moving to stand by Cameron’s side. “He’s just not barking mad.”
“Where does the train stop?” Eve added brightly. “I think we should be going.”
For a long moment there was only the clack of wheels on rails, then Janus clapped his hands and laughed. “But my dears! The journey isn’t over! There’s still the matter of my debt to the wolves. I insist upon clearing it.”
Morgan hesitated, but Cameron nodded. “Go on. What’ve we got to lose?”
The larger boy dug out the bone medallion and handed it over.
“A long time since I gave this away! Granted to the Were-brothers who founded Ancient Rome, in exchange for Temple rights. No wonder I saw them in you.” Janus studied the disc, lost in remembrance. “Someone values you highly, wolf-boy, to entrust you with this.”
Cameron frowned, wondering how Morgan had managed to scavenge it from the pack, but Morgan just scratched his hair.
“What can I say? I’m lovable.”
“You will both follow me to the inner sanctum.” Janus held one hand aloft and processed in stately strides towards the doorway that led to the next carriage. “Eve may rest here and enjoy the delights of the garden. I grant her full use of it.” His second, snarkier voice filtered back through the tapestry curtain. “Don’t feed the cat!”
As the curtain fluttered closed, Eve let out a long breath. “Well… he was very predictable and reassuring, wasn’t he?”
“I revise my earlier description,” said Cameron. “He must be God of Mood Swings as well.”
“Not so loud, he might hear you.” She shot a glance at the tapestry, then turned her attention to the panelled doorway Janus had conjured up. “I wonder where he was going to banish me?”
“Thrown to the marble lions, I expect.” Morgan gave a mirthless grin. “You ok, kid?”
“Fine. You two better go, before he changes his mind.”
The junction between the carriages was open, exposed to the air. Cameron gingerly stepped over the swaying gangway. The room beyond was dim, lit by candles in ornate holders. The roof vanished into the distance, and the space seemed larger than could possibly fit inside a railway carriage. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw the faint outlines of doors floating in the murky atmosphere – doors of every imaginable shape, size and description.
“What is this place?” he said, watching the drifting shapes.
“The Temple of the Door, of course.” Janus threw himself onto a golden couch. “Or a portable version of it at least. The original is long lost.”
“It’s huge!”
“I borrow the space from human hallways. They’re another part of my domain: all those doors, you see. No one ever seems to notice, even when they start tripping over shoes and umbrellas…” One Janus face gave a self-satisfied grin. The other looked exasperated, and said, “To business. Though I won’t grant the ward, if you cancel my debt, I can give you something much more useful.”
Morgan folded his arms. “Ward’s pretty useful. What’s better?”
In answer, Janus reached up, his hand cupped above his head. From every corner of the chamber the floating door outlines rushed and jostled towards him, clustering to touch his outstretched fingers. Suddenly he snatched, as if catching a moth, and the doors vanished into smoke. “I offer you this.” He lowered his fist and opened it, revealing something small and shiny on his palm.
“A key,” said Cameron. “An ordinary house key…”
“No. It’s every key, distilled from the essence of every door. The Omniclavis! There isn’t a lock it won’t open, not anywhere in the worlds.” Janus held out his hands, the Omniclavis in one, the bone debt in the other. “Well, what’s it to be?”
Morgan’s eyes shone green. “I reckon we take it. More use than a mouldy old bone…”
“Then the deal is done!” Janus cried before Cameron could speak, his fist clenching tight around the bone debt. Yellow dust ran through his fingers to the ground. He flung the key in Morgan’s direction, and stretched like a cat. “My debt is cleared. Now pay attention, wolf-boys: three times only the Omniclavis will work – and then it returns to me.”
“Hold on. You didn’t mention that!” said Cameron.
“No?” Janus lay back on the couch, affecting a look of innocence. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“That bone-thing was our bargaining tool.” Cameron turned to Morgan. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Reckon so. We’ve still got Grey, Black and their summons to deal with. Bet we can steal a march on them with this.”
“Oh, don’t bicker. This was meant to be.” Four eyes fixed Cameron with an ironic gaze. “It augurs well for your future.”
Cameron opened his mouth to ask the Roman God what he meant, but at that same moment an enormous shuddering thunk shook the carriage. The room swayed giddily from left to right as if the train was dancing on the rails. “What happened?”
Janus said nothing, but closed his eyes and started to hum a little tune.
There was metallic rending sound, like something being ripped open, and a cry rang out. Morgan’s head jerked in the direction of the other carriage. “That’s Eve! Come on!”
They darted for the gangway.
In the garden room, two huge blundering grey shapes were stumbling to their feet. Each resembled an over-inflated puffball parody of a man: the body and limbs bloated and swollen.
“They came through the roof! They just tore it open!” Eve ducked as one blob swung an arm at her. It missed, and connected wetly with a column. There was a strange, sickly sweet smell as it drew its arm back, and Cameron saw part of the stonework had vanished, leaving behind a gap as if it had been eaten away.
“Eve, get out!” he yelled.
“Oh thanks! I’d never have thought of that.”
She leapt over the marble benches, and darted round the pond to the other side of the carriage. Remorselessly, the blob men followed.
The stone kitten hissed, driven from its hiding place, and raced past Cameron to the gangway.
“I’m gonna get Janus. He’s got the power to stop this –” Morgan loped in the direction of the Temple of the Door. “Try and hold them off!” he called over his shoulder.
“With what, exactly?” Cameron seized a heavy amphora and flung it at the nearest blob. It squelched into the creature’s back, which puffed and abso
rbed the jug whole. The grey skin bubbled and flattened, and the creature seemed to grow…
Fragments of Morgan’s shouted conversation with the God of Doors echoed back along the gangway:
“Why won’t you help?”
“It’s not what I do.”
“What d’you mean – it’s not your style?”
“No, it’s not what I do. Past and future, remember?”
Eve was edging along the wall as the blob-creatures lumbered ever closer. Her back touched the wooden doorway Janus had summoned up. She seized the handle. “I’m gonna risk it, there’s no other way –”
“Eve, no! You don’t know where it goes!”
She yanked the door open. An expression of surprise ran over her face. “Cameron, it’s –
The blobs threw themselves forward. Eve stepped through, slamming the door behind her. It vanished instantly. With an aggrieved roar, the blobs turned to Cameron.
Cameron’s eyes widened. Their faces resembled a crudely formed version of Mr Grey’s…
He backed away down the carriage, pushing through the tapestry that covered the link to the Temple of the Door.
Morgan was in the doorway of the next carriage, waving frantically. “Jump across!” he shouted. “That stone moggy’s only gone and pulled out the pin that holds –”
There was a sharp, scraping sound and suddenly Morgan was a lot further away.
The distance between the carriages was growing.
The gangway plank had gone – fallen away onto the track. Morgan’s temple carriage – still coupled to the driving steam engine – was fast gaining speed, getting further and further ahead. Cameron’s garden carriage meanwhile continued to travel at an incredible pace, carried forward by momentum alone. The wind whipped in his face, roaring in his ears like a howl…
“Jump!” yelled Morgan across the void.
“I can’t!” Cameron screamed back as the rails raced below. “It’s going too fast! I’ll fall under –”
“You’ve got to!”
Cameron turned back to the carriage – the grey blob men were almost upon him, their lumpen features contorted into angry leers.
He took a deep breath. There wasn’t anything else he could do –
He jumped.
CHAPTER 5
Abruptly Human
“Yeeaaaaaaa–
ooooooooooow!”
In midair, Cameron’s shout turned from a human cry of terror to something else entirely. The carriage in front was too far away, so he leapt at an angle, heading for the railway sidings instead. A steep bank covered with a tangle of grass, trees and bushes rushed towards him.
No clear place to fall.
This is gonna hurt.
His vision sharpened – like autofocus on a camera kicking in – and everything seemed to slow.
He would bend his legs and land on all fours, duck and roll –
An impact – hard earth, stones – a tumble – the world turned 360 degrees. The air was knocked out of him.
Cameron hit the ground in the shape of a wolf.
He had no time to take stock of his unexpected transformation. He bounded up, wolf claws fast finding purchase, and shook free the fragments of human clothing that still clung to his newly furred body. A sharp pain stabbed in his front shoulder. He ignored it, and zigzagged sure-footedly down the bank.
The pace of the engine-less carriage was only just beginning to falter. He darted past its side – running along the edge of the tracks – then back onto the line in front.
Cameron could call on a good turn of speed in wolf-form, but he was no match for Janus’s locomotive at full throttle. The front carriage continued to gain distance. He could see two grey men swarming up the end of the coach and onto the roof, pulling themselves forward, hand over puffy hand. They must’ve jumped the gap just after he leapt from the train.
They weren’t after him… Whatever they wanted was still onboard.
With a whistle-scream, the train snaked into a tunnel and Cameron followed. The light level fell away and his eyes narrowed instinctively. In the confined space, the steam from the engine billowed into a thick cloud. Only the greasy touch of the railway sleepers below his pads let him know he wasn’t drifting away into muggy darkness. Scent drew him on: the steam mingled with the sugary-sweet mushroom stink of the Greys.
Cameron’s lip curled, exposing his incisors. There was something subtly wrong about the Greys. They provoked him – and not just by threatening his friends. It was like they didn’t belong, like they had no right to be on the Parallel.
Like it was his duty to chase them down…
Daylight flared, and he was once again outside. The track banked sharply round a double bend, heading towards a second tunnel. Set into a high wall beneath the city streets, the entrance was low, with jagged flagstones projecting down like teeth. The opening burned with a rippling red light.
Cameron slowed. The Parallel song sounded a warning inside his mind: this tunnel wasn’t just another part of the Parallel landscape, but a portal leading on to the Daemon World itself…
The train hared into it and vanished, swallowed up by the stony maw.
A tearing sensation ran through his chest. His wolf-self desperately wanted to follow – to throw himself in and to hell with the consequences. But his human side urged caution. Morgan had warned him about Daemonic, told him most of the inhabitants hadn’t encountered a living human being in centuries. Even in wolf form, Cameron would be in danger…
Morgan.
His best friend.
Who he couldn’t leave to fight the Greys alone…
Head down, Cameron raced forward, only for the decision to be snatched away from him. With a guttural sound, the yawning tunnel mouth flexed and contracted. The flagstones bit down, clamping into the earth and sealing the entrance shut. Cameron skidded to a halt.
A dirt-flecked lightbulb pinged, calmly illuminating a sign:
PARALLEL LINE INTERCHANGE
* DAEMON WORLD TRANSFER IN PROGRESS *
ACCESS TO AUTHORISED VEHICLES ONLY
BY ORDER OF JANUS.
He reared up and howled. As he beat out his frustration on the stonework, his paws resolved into fists, and he found himself abruptly human once more.
One of the many difficult things about being a werewolf was sorting out the clothes. He’d said that to Eve once, and she’d almost died laughing.
“You’ve problems matching your t-shirt to your pointy ears and tail?”
That hadn’t been what he’d meant at all, clearly. He’d been talking about practicalities: the sort of things Morgan – who had a lifetime of Were experience – guided him on. You had to be ready to take on a distinctly different body shape for three Fat Moon nights a month. You needed clothes that would slip off easily when the change took over, and a stash for when you shifted back the next day. You needed food: plenty of it, both before and after, to fuel the complex process that re-knitted and reshaped bones and cartilage, and grew fur, teeth and claws.
If you didn’t prepare – as Cameron had explained to Eve – the consequences could be anything from hugely dangerous (turning into a large and extremely hungry predator) to a little embarrassing (transforming back into a naked human).
“So if you ever meet a big black wolf looking sheepish one morning –”
“I should search out a sweatshirt and some joggers, turn my back, and not ask any awkward questions?”
“That’s about right, yeah.”
He’d had no warning this time, Cameron reflected, as he tracked his way back along the rails, shivering. He would gladly have turned wolf again, donning his snug fur against the cold, but he didn’t know how. The wolf lay buried deep inside him most of the time, and he had no way to reach it.
Morgan had told him that down in the Daemon World, Weres could shapeshift whenever they chose. On the Parallel and in the Human World, however, the full moon would call you each month, triggering the change whether you wanted it or not.
Full-blooded Weres could – with proper training – resist the call, or at least lessen its effects, but even they could not summon it at will. And as for changing into a wolf outwith the nights of the Fat Moon? That was completely unheard of.
Twice now, the shift had happened of its own volition. First fighting off the Weaver Daemon, and again when he’d leapt from the train. He’d been frightened the first time, uncertain what was happening, but on this occasion his overwhelming emotion was one of relief. The wolf’s agility had allowed him to walk away from that jump with no worse injury than a staved shoulder. Would a human have survived? It seemed to Cameron the change had come exactly when he’d needed it most.
The wolf had saved him, and he was grateful.
Scanning the tracks around the point he’d jumped, he managed to find both his trainers and pulled them on. His jeans and jacket had fallen a little further away, and proved to be in worse condition: ripped apart as he’d transformed. He felt in his pockets to retrieve his keys and belongings, and drew out a silver packet: a foil blanket, like marathon runners wore, all neatly folded up. It was leftover from a trade with a wood spirit who’d exchanged knowledge of herbs for frost protection for her saplings. Shaking the blanket open, Cameron draped it over his shoulders and wrapped it tight around his body.
He’d pass for human now – at least for one daft enough to go running in January – and not draw many suspicious glances on his way back to the shop. He’d organised with Eve and Morgan to meet there if they ever got separated.
Shifting to the Human World, he walked along the cycle path, nodding to the occasional fellow runner. As he climbed the stairs that led up to Scotland Street in Edinburgh’s New Town, he spotted a semi-circular opening recessed into the wall. A well-used basketball hoop was attached to a row of steel bars blocking off the dank space beyond.