The Children of Black Annis

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The Children of Black Annis Page 15

by Amy Cross


  Jess

  As the smell of bacon and eggs starts to waft up from downstairs, I stare at the photo. Duncan looks the same as he does now, not a day younger. Of course I know that he's been around for a while, and I've always meant to ask him about his earlier life, but somehow those conversations have never really happened. What bothers me, though, is this Anna woman. Twice in recent weeks, I've heard her mentioned as if she was once very important in Duncan's life, yet he's always - somewhat characteristically - side-stepped any discussion of her.

  What really shocks me about the photo, though, is Anna's face. The thing is: she looks like me. Not exactly like me, but enough for it to be a little bit weird. We have the same eyes and the same bone structure, and similar hair. As she stares out at me from the photo, I can't help but wonder if Duncan likes me because I remind him of this woman from his past. And if that's the case, then there's another rather obvious question: what happened to Anna? If she's so important and so great, where is she now? Is she a werewolf? Is she still alive?

  Staring at the photo, I try to imagine what it was like for Anna. Did Duncan drag her around, the way he drags me around? Or were things different back then? I look at Duncan's face in the photo and I try to find some kind of clue, anything that suggests he was calmer or more open. But it's just the same old Duncan staring at the camera, looking as if he's about to do something insanely stupid. More and more, though, I'm starting to feel like Duncan's personality is a reaction to something. It's as if something happened in the past that made him the way he is, and I want to know what the 'something' might have been. If only I could ask him, but I can't. I need to find people who knew Duncan back then, and who can tell me what he was really like.

  I look through the folder some more, but unfortunately I don't find any further mentions of Anna. There are a few notes about Duncan, detailing his occasional visits to Herne, but nothing about Anna at all. However, in a note from 1975 Brian writes that he finds Duncan to be sadder than before. If Anna isn't mentioned, does that mean that she was gone by then? And if she was gone, then where was she? There's always been a hint of sadness about Duncan, and although he's tried to keep it hidden, it's never been far from the surface. But if Duncan's engaged in some kind of werewolf Vertigo trip, hanging out with me because I remind him of this Anna woman, then I'm not sure I want any part of it.

  "Breakfast's ready!" Meredith calls out.

  "Coming!" I shout back.

  I take another look at the photo, and then - without really thinking - I fold it up and put it in my pocket before closing the file. Damn it, I know I shouldn't do that, and I have no idea what I'm going to do with the photo. Simply confronting Duncan about it would never work, that's for sure. He's terrible at answering direct questions, and he'd just find a way to say lots of words without actually saying anything meaningful. So I've got to be a little smarter here and dig away at the truth some other way. It'll take time, but I'll probably get a much better idea of the truth if I do it that way.

  Heading downstairs, I find that Meredith is serving breakfast. It smells great, and I'm starving.

  "Duncan was worried about you this morning," she says as I start eating.

  "He was?" I ask with my mouth full. I'm not really in the mood for small talk, but she's made me a good breakfast so I guess I should at least be polite. "He has a funny way of showing it."

  "Maybe he doesn't want you to see him like that," she replies, "but he was pacing around the room, looking out the window all the time. I could tell, he was really worried."

  It only takes me a minute or so to finish the food. "Good," I say. "It's good for him to be worried sometimes."

  "I know what you are," she says suddenly. "Both of you. I know what you are."

  "What are we?" I reply, feeling a little worried. After all, my conversation with Dr. Cope at the hospital hasn't exactly put me in the mood to share life stories.

  "You're werewolves," she replies. "I laughed at a lot of my father's work. He was far too easily led astray. But I've read the files he wrote about Duncan, and it's pretty obvious that you're like Duncan." She pauses. "I don't expect you to admit it, but I dare you to tell me I'm wrong."

  I don't say anything. Instead, I look down at my plate, wishing there was more food.

  "Funny," she says, getting up and fetching the frying pan. She adds more eggs and bacon to my plate. "The way you responded to my question is exactly the same as the way Duncan responded earlier. You two are very similar."

  "That's not true," I say as I start eating again. "We're very different." As I finish the plate of food, I look up and realize she's watching me. It's a little creepy. "Let me guess," I say with a heavy heart. "You said the same thing to him, and he replied the same way I replied?"

  "No," she says, grinning. "But I might try that later." She puts the dirty dishes in the sink, and it's clear that she wants to ask me something else, but she's not sure how to get it out. "What's it like?" she says eventually, not looking over at me. "Being a werewolf, I mean. What's it like being stronger and better than normal people?"

  "I wouldn't know," I say.

  "I bet it feels good," she continues. "If I was a werewolf, I'd love it. I'd do all the things I can't do now."

  "Like what?" I ask.

  "Like live more than eighteen months," she says. She turns to me, a sad look in her eyes. "I've got metastatic brain cancer, stage two. I've got a year, year and a half left, but some of that's going to be..." She pauses. "Unpleasant."

  I'm not sure what to say. Somehow, I've gone my entire life without meeting anyone who's dying of cancer. I guess I've been lucky in that regard. Now, sitting in a little kitchen with a woman who's dying, I find that I have nothing to say. "Are you sure?" I manage to ask eventually, but I immediately realize with a sinking feeling that I just said something really dumb.

  "I'm sure," she says, a slight grin crossing her lips. "More importantly, my doctors are sure. It's okay, I've come to terms with it. And, hey, at least I don't have to worry about leaving anyone behind. They're all dead now." She takes a deep breath. "So come on, tell me. What's it like being a werewolf?"

  I stare at her, not sure whether I should admit anything. "It's not what you'd expect," I say eventually, and I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. I've barely been able to talk to anyone about my experiences, and Meredith seems like she actually wants to listen to me. "It's not all fun and games. It's not all exciting. There are still complications, they just take the place of other complications and you end up not knowing what to do."

  "Duncan seems insane," she says.

  I laugh. "I guess he is," I say. It feels good to be able to say these things. "He's hyper. A little bit manic sometimes. He acts like he doesn't care about most things, but deep down, I'm sure he cares more than he shows." I pause. "He's smart, I'll give him that. He's saved my skin on more than one occasion. But he also brings danger. He knows fucked up creatures and monsters and stuff like that, stuff that'd make your eyes pop out. He -"

  "Stop," Meredith says. She comes and sits opposite me. "I didn't ask what it's like to be Duncan. I asked what it's like to be a werewolf. From your point of view. Don't you miss your old life?"

  I shrug. "My old life was over before I met Duncan," I say. "If things hadn't worked out like this, I'd probably have stayed on the streets of London. Eventually I guess I'd have either found something to do, or I'd have died. Drugs, prostitution, stuff like that. I know enough about that kind of life to know that it's not so great."

  "So Duncan saved you?"

  "He helped me," I say. "I wouldn't say he saved me."

  We both look up as we hear the front door open and then close. Duncan's back, which means we're going to have to get going, which means we're going to have to go and find these black-eyed kids, which means... Well, it means things are probably going to get crazy and dangerous. Still, it was good to get a short rest, especially after what happened last night. The last thing I want to do right now is go back and
face those children, but I know Duncan won't rest until we've stopped them, and I know he's under-estimating how powerful their influence can be. Whatever we do, we have to make sure we don't just walk straight up to them. They're dangerous. I've experienced their power, and I need to think of some way to make sure they don't get inside my head again. I've survived it once, but I'm not sure I can go through it again without losing my mind.

  Jess

  About an hour later, I'm standing on the beach with Duncan and Meredith. I was pretty surprised when Meredith said she wanted to come with us, and I was even more surprised when Duncan agreed. After all, she's just human and her presence could slow us down. It's also pretty dangerous, given the way that these children seem to operate, and I can't help feeling that Duncan has exposed us to additional dangers that we could perhaps have avoided. Nevertheless, we're standing out here, in the light rain, a couple of miles out of town, and there's absolutely nothing to see.

  "Why are we here again?" I ask.

  Duncan turns to me. "I mapped the suicides," he says. "Assuming that the children cause swift suicidal feelings, I worked out the times of the suicides that could be pinned down, and I noticed a pattern. The vast majority were within two miles of this stretch of beach, so I decided we should start here. If we're going to find these kids and help them, we have to try to think like them."

  "You still think we need to help them?" I ask as we walk across the pebbles. "They've killed so many people."

  "Not on purpose," he replies. "Not all monsters are monsters on purpose. Some of them - some of us - just don't understand what we're doing wrong. I doubt these children are setting out purely to kill people. I'd rather say that they have a power that they can't control. They probably don't understand what they're doing wrong."

  "You're being very generous," I say. "Wait until you meet them. They're creepy little fuckers."

  "What's the plan?" Meredith asks. "When we find them, I mean. What are we going to do?"

  "We're going to help them," Duncan says, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

  "How?" she continues.

  "Yeah, how?" I add.

  "We'll... work something out when we get there," he says.

  "But as soon as we get near them," I say, "we'll start to feel suicidal."

  "You might," Duncan says, "but I won't. I've learnt over the years how to keep my emotions in check. I'm fully under control. There's no way they can affect me. I'll be absolutely fine."

  I smile, and decide that there's no point arguing with him. He's supremely confident, which is always a worrying sign. I always prefer it when Duncan seems a little worried, because that's when he starts using his brain and coming up with plans. When he's confident, he has a bad habit of blundering right into the middle of extremely dangerous situations. I'm almost certain that he's under-estimating these creepy children, but hopefully the three of us can somehow manage to stay strong together.

  "Do you know how often I find myself facing the unknown?" Duncan says. "Almost never. I always have some idea what we're up against. This time, though, I'm completely at a loss. At first I thought they might be Criads, but the description doesn't match up. And finally I realized that they must be something completely new, something I've never even heard of before." He pauses. "It's very exciting," he adds.

  "Over there!" Meredith shouts suddenly, pointing towards the cliffs.

  "I don't see anything," I say.

  "I see them!" she says, hurrying ahead of us. Duncan and I exchange worried glances before running after her. I still can't see anything, but Meredith seems absolutely convinced that she's seen something. As we get closer to the cliffs, I start to see that there are various cracks and caves all over the place. Still, though, I can't see what Meredith has noticed, but finally we reach the cliff-face and Meredith comes to a halt. "There!" she says, pointing up at what seems to be a cave set a few meters off the ground.

  "There's nothing there," I say.

  "Yes there is," Duncan adds, stepping forward. He points. "Don't you see it?"

  I try to find whatever it is that they've both noticed, and juts when I'm about to give up, I spot a small form at the edge of the cave, crumpled on the ground.

  "Come on," Duncan says, starting to climb up. Meredith and I look at each other for a moment before we both follow him. As we get up onto a ledge by the entrance to the cave, I finally realize what we've found. I'm so shocked, I step backwards and Meredith has to reach out and stop me from falling back down onto the beach.

  "They're just children," Meredith says.

  She's right. It's the two creepy kids, the boy and the girl, and they're fast asleep. Curled up together, as if they're keeping one another warm, they're completely out of it.

  "They must have been up all night," Duncan says. "They really are just children, aren't they?" He steps a little closer, being careful not to make too much noise. "Whatever it is that makes them induce suicidal thoughts, it must be dormant while they're asleep."

  "We can kill them," I say. I know it sounds bad to suggest something so horrific, but despite appearances, they're certainly not just a pair of cute kids. They're evil. Duncan hasn't felt their influence, and neither has Meredith. I'm the only one who knows how these kids operate, and my first instinct is to grab a rock and smash their heads in. They've already killed so many people in Herne, it seems obvious that we should take this opportunity to get rid of them for good.

  "I was right," Duncan says. "They're lost. Look at them. They've become separated from their parents. What did you say they asked you when you met them?"

  "They asked me to take them home," I say.

  Duncan shrugs. "They're just a pair of lost little children." He steps a little close and crouches down in front of them. They're still fast asleep. "They just want to go home," he continues.

  "Where's home?" Meredith asks, clearly a little nervous.

  "I don't know," Duncan says. "Let's ask them!" And without any further warning, he reaches out and gently shakes the shoulder of the little boy. There's no movement from either of the children, so Duncan shakes the girl. "Come on," he says. "Wakey wakey!"

  There's a moment during which I start to think that maybe they won't wake up. But no such luck: suddenly, at the same time, they both open their black eyes and stare at Duncan.

  "Hello!" Duncan says. "I'm Duncan, and these are my friends -"

  "Can you take us home?" the boy says, as they both get to their feet.

  "I suppose so," Duncan replies. "We'd be happy to..." He pauses. "Oh, that's interesting."

  "What's wrong?" Meredith asks.

  Duncan frowns, turning to me. "I see what you mean," he says. "It's as if every negative emotion from my entire life has been sucked out of my mind, squashed together to make a big ball, and then thrown through my thoughts. It's..." He pauses, clearly overwhelmed. I watch as his eyes widen. I remember what it was like when the children affected me, and I hate seeing the same thing happen to Duncan.

  "We should get out of here," I say, stepping forward to try to pull him away.

  "No!" he says, pushing my back. "Wait! I'm in control. I'm letting them explore my mind so that I can try to understand what they are and what they want."

  "It's too dangerous!" I say. I turn to Meredith. "Are you okay?" I ask.

  She nods.

  I take a deep breath, and I feel myself starting to panic. The thought of those two kids breaking into my mind again is almost too much to handle.

  "Relax," Duncan says, keeping his eyes fixed on the children. "They've given up on you, Jess. They know they've tried you before and it didn't work, so I think they'll ignore you." I can tell from the tone of his voice that he's struggling to contain his feelings. The confident, happy-go-lucky Duncan of late has been replaced by a more sombre version, clearly being affected by the children.

  "Can you take us home?" the little girl asks.

  "Yes," Duncan says. "We'll take you home. You'll have to show us the way, but we'
ll take you."

  "We don't know the way," the boy says.

  "You have to give us some kind of clue," Duncan says.

  "Can you take us home?" the little girl asks again.

  "If you help us," Duncan says. "We don't know where 'home' is for you. We need you to help us find the way for you, and then we'll take you. Do you understand?"

  "Can you take us home?" the little boy asks.

  "You have to help us!" Duncan insists, and I can see that he's starting to lose his cool. He seems more tense than I've ever seen him, as if he's desperately struggling to keep back a wave of negative emotions. I guess he's got more experience with this kind of thing, but even for him it's a struggle.

  "Can you take us home?" the little boy asks again.

  "Yes!" Meredith says, stepping forward. She looks scared, but she reaches out her hands to the two children. "Come on, you can show us the way."

  Slowly, with a little hesitation, the children take Meredith's hands and allow her to lead them to the edge of the cave. They climb down onto the beach and wait for Duncan and me to follow.

  "You okay?" I ask as Duncan struggles a little to make his way back down.

  "Fine," he says dismissively, but I know he's not fine. Those kids are having a serious effect on me, even if they seem - as Duncan suggested - to have left me alone. I don't know how Meredith is managing to keep going, but I guess the kids are focusing all their energy on Duncan.

  Once we're all down on the beach, we let the children lead us along the shore, getting further and further away from town. I can't help but notice that Duncan is really in trouble now, sweating profusely and almost stumbling.

  "Here," I say, trying to support him.

  "You need help," I say, forcing him to lean on me as we walk. "They're in your mind, aren't they?"

  "I can't explain it," he says quietly. "I've never felt anything so powerful."

 

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