Werewolves of the Other London

by Amy Cross

  "There's no-one here," Azael says as we move softly through the darkness. "No Flesh Weaver, and no Loom People."

  "That's good, right?" I say.

  "It depends," Azael says. "It means he didn't bring her back here to start work on her straight away, but it also means we have no idea where your friend is."

  "But he will bring her back, won't he?" I ask. "I mean, at some point, he's going to bring her back to his cave."

  Azael nods. "Was your friend like you?" she asks. I nod. "He'll definitely bring her back," Azael continues. "Your friend is a great prize. She'll be very useful to the Flesh Weaver, and there's no way he'll let her get away from him."

  We eventually reach a deeper part of the cave where there's some light from the moss on the ceiling. Finally, I can see that all around us the walls of the cave are covered in large sheets, beautifully woven expanses in colors and patterns I never could have imagined before. The threads run into one another in such detail, it's hard to believe that something so complex could even exist. I reach a hand up to touch one of the pieces of fabric, and it feels so soft and delicate, I don't think I've ever encountered something so stunning before.

  "I've never seen anything like this," I say, awed by the beauty of the fabrics.

  "Every Flesh Weaver has his own distinctive style," Azael says. "This one seems to be particularly skilled, I'm not sure I've ever seen such beautiful work."

  I think back to the attack earlier, to the moment when the Flesh Weaver lashed out at Darla after smashing its way through the building. "They're such huge, ugly creatures," I say. "How can they be like that, but also be like this?"

  Azael smiles. "Don't judge a book by its cover," she says.

  "I don't!" I shoot back. "People keep saying that to me. But I don't!"

  "No," says Azael, "but you still find it hard to believe that a creature as hideous and violent as a Flesh Weaver could make things that are so beautiful. Would you be surprised to learn that Wormwood's pet worm is a master violinist?"

  I turn to her, an incredulous look on my face.

  "Okay," she says, "that's not true. But you get the idea. You won't get very far down here if you assume that everyone is the same on the inside as they are on the outside."

  "I know," I say. I pause. "It just takes some getting used to," I add feeling the smooth fabric between my fingers.

  "You know what you're touching, right?" Azael asks.

  I pause, then I remember that the Flesh Weavers use skin to work their looms. I pull my hand away, but it's still hard to not look at the beautiful patterns before me.

  "Those creatures..." I say, stunned. "They made these?"

  Azael nods. "It's what they do. It's why they kill. They're vicious only in their pursuit of beauty. They might look ugly, and they might become violent when they're hunting new sources of skin, but everything they do is so that they can bring victims back to places like this, cut them up and use them to create these fabrics."

  "They're beautiful..." I say, "and horrible at the same time."

  "Most things are," Azael says. "But the good news is that these are all fairly old. He hasn't brought your friend back here yet, which means she's still alive, somewhere."

  "Are you sure?" I ask.

  "Pretty sure," she replies. "The Flesh Weaver would only want to work on her while she's still alive, so he must be still out there, waiting to bring her back and use her."

  I look up at the fabrics. "Use her to make one of these," I say quietly, marveling at the idea that something so beautiful could be created by such a hideous creature, and with such violent methods.

  "Quick!" hisses Azael, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the shadows. Before I can ask what's wrong, I hear the sound of knives being sharpened and, moments later, figures appear at the entrance to the cave. There are four of them, and they're carrying something large, which they put on the ground once they're inside. The creatures themselves are pale humanoids. "Loom People," Azael whispers to me.

  I try to get a better view of the thing that they have carried in, but at first I can't make it out. Suddenly, I realize with horror that it's a body... the body of the Flesh Weaver from earlier.

  "What the hell?" Azael whispers, then suddenly she pushes past me and walks straight over to where the Loom People are standing around the Flesh Weaver's corpse. "Don't worry," Azael calls out to me, "they're harmless now. Their master is dead. They'll just stand around until they die."

  Cautiously, I follow Azael over and take a look at the dead Flesh Weaver. Earlier, it seemed to be such a large and fearsome creature, but in death it looks so pathetic. The cloak that it used to wear has been ripped open. There are large chunks missing from its body, and it has clearly been in a massive fight. There's something pretty sad and pathetic about seeing such a huge, dangerous creature having been brought down low like this, especially now that I've seen the beautiful things that it could create.

  "I didn't hear a fight, did you?" Azael says, turning to me.

  I shake my head.

  "Which can only mean one thing," she continues. "This Flesh Weaver didn't die in a fight at all. It was basically just executed." There's a pause as we look at the sorry carcass of the beast, then Azael looks at me again. "Do you know who Thomas Lumic is?"

  "I've heard the name," I say. "But -"

  "He's your friend's master. Duncan. Thomas Lumic is Duncan's master. And he's down here, and I don't think it's a coincidence that this Flesh Weaver is dead. Lumic's a beast like you, but he's a savage creature. He kills to get what he wants, and he doesn't care who gets hurt. He's a monster." There's a pause, and then she turns to me with anger in her eyes. "Why did you lead him down here?"

  "Me?" I say. "This isn't my fault!"

  "Thomas Lumic being down here is your fault," Azael says. "You and Duncan and your other friend. If you three hadn't come down here, Lumic wouldn't have followed you. This Flesh Weaver wouldn't be dead. How many other creatures do you think are dead because of Lumic?" She walks over to me, a kind of rage in her eyes. "Let me guess. You heard that there are monsters down here in the Underworld, so you figured it wouldn't matter if you brought a few more down to join the party."

  "No," I say, stunned that she's blaming me.

  "Lumic isn't going to stop until he's killed Duncan and probably killed you too," Azael says. "Frankly, I can't help thinking it might be easier for everyone down here if we just turn you over to Lumic and help him find Duncan so he can get what he wants and leave." She leans close to me. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do that."

  "You can't!" I say. "I'm here to save Duncan. Help me do that, and then we'll leave, and then Lumic will follow us and everything can go back to normal for you down here. I promise."

  "Is that all you care about?" Azael asks. "Duncan? All you talk about is Duncan. What's so damned special about him? Why do all these people have to die just so you can save your precious Duncan?"

  I take a deep breath. "All I want is Duncan," I say. "I need to find him and get him out of here alive. Everything else is secondary. I just have to rescue Duncan." I stare at her. "Please. I just have to find him. You've got to help me. I swear, we'll leave as soon as I've found him."

  "What about me?" asks a voice.

  I turn to find Darla standing behind me. She has a few cuts and bruises, but otherwise she seems to have healed from her earlier encounter with the Flesh Weaver. She's looking at me with dark eyes, as if she doesn't really trust me.

  "And you," I say, correcting myself. "You know I meant you too." I rush over to her and put my arms around her. "I thought you were dead," I say.

  "The Loom People brought me here to wait for the Flesh Weaver to return," she says, her voice sounding somewhat cold. "But my guards just stopped moving. I guess they know he's not going to need me anymore."

  "You're fine," Azael says. I look over at her. "The Loom People obeyed their master. Now that their master is dead, they'll just fade away." She fixes me with a stare. "Everyone ne
eds a master."

  Darla gently pushes me away. "It's okay," she says. "Your priority is Duncan. That's fine. We should just get him and get out before..." She looks down at the Flesh Weaver's body. "Before anyone else has to die."

  "I'm really sorry," I say, but it's clear that I've hurt Darla. In everything that we've been through together, she's always been the energetic one, the one who pushes us onwards. Now she just seems to be tired and annoyed.

  "I need to talk to you," says Azael. "Alone, if that's okay."

  "Sure," I say, turning to her. "We'll -"

  "I mean Darla," Azael cuts in. "I need to talk to your friend. Just the two of us. Is that okay?"

  I look at her, then at Darla. "Is it something you can't say in front of me?" I ask.

  "Step outside for a moment, please, Jess," says Azael. "Darla and I have to talk about things, and we need to have a discussion without your input."

  "Yeah, but -"

  "But nothing," Azael says. "I know this place has a reputation. It's dangerous. It's filled with creatures that most people couldn't imagine in their worst nightmares. But you know what? We have the same stories about your world. Your world, up there, is full of... monsters. Different types of monsters, but still. And they're just as dangerous. You and your friends led Thomas Lumic down here and now he's killing us."

  I turn to Darla, hoping that she'll back me up.

  "She's kind of right," Darla says.

  My heart falls.

  "You know what I mean," Darla continues. "Matt DiMera filled our heads with stories about all the danger down here, we never stopped to think about the danger we were bringing with us. Duncan led this Thomas Lumic guy down to the Underworld. All we can do now is get Duncan out of here, and make sure that Lumic follows us back out, and then make sure that nothing like this ever happens again."

  Azael sighs. "Now can I please talk to your friend Darla alone for a moment?"

  I open my mouth to argue with them, but there's nothing to say so I turn and head out of the cave. Once I'm outside, I wander along the street a little, making sure to stay close to the part of this city that I know. The last thing I need is to get lost. But is it true? Did Duncan cause this problem for the Underworld, and have Darla and I just made it worse? When we first came down here, I saw it as a place full of monsters. But now I see it as something else. For all its bizarre inhabitants and its danger, it's a functioning world, and we've put it in danger.

  "You look sad," says a familiar voice nearby.

  I turn to find Wormwood sitting on the steps of a building.

  "Most people," he continues, "become sad after they've been spending time with Azael. Like I said earlier, you really should find yourself some better friends."

  "What have you got against her?" I ask.

  "Me?" he says, acting as if he's surprised. "Nothing. She's never done anything to me. But the people she's with tend to end up dead, or worse, and..." He smiles. "There are things about her that you don't know. Things you can't know. Things you'll find out one day, if you're unlucky."

  "I should get back to them," I say, feeling uneasy.

  "Of course," Wormwood says. "I need to get back to my Bertie, it's feeding time for him. But..." He seems to be uncomfortable for a moment. "Before I go, let me point something out to you. You initially thought the Flesh Weavers were cold, heartless creatures, and you were partly wrong. Meanwhile, you think Azael is a friend, a guide. Maybe you're wrong about that too. After all..." He leans in close for a moment. "Isn't she being just a little bit too helpful? What's really in it for her?"

  And with that, he strolls away, leaving me standing in the empty street. I turn to look back toward the cave. I don't know what Azael and Darla are talking about in there, but I feel like I need to get back to them and make sure we're all ready to go and find Duncan. He's close, I can sense it. We just have to...

  I pause.

  I'm doing it again.

  I'm focusing so much on Duncan, that I don't think about anyone else. I almost got Darla killed today, and between us Duncan and I have put the Underworld at the mercy of Thomas Lumic. Maybe I don't have a right to ask Darla and Azael to help me find Duncan? Maybe I don't have a right to draw them into a potential confrontation with Thomas Lumic. I look at the cave. They're safe there. Why should I drag them out to help me fight my battles? Slowly, I turn my back on the cave and start walking, following my sense of where I think Duncan is hiding. I'm going to do this by myself. I'm not going to put anyone else in danger.

  Lumic

  Finally a real challenge! I cling onto the beast as it bucks and tries to throw me off, but my teeth are sunk in its neck and I can feel its blood flowing down my throat. Although there is no danger that I will be unable to kill the giant worm, I at least feel adrenalin flowing through my body for the first time since I came down to the Underworld. A challenge is exactly what I required, something to hone my skills. But I must be careful not to be injured, so I bite harder and slowly the huge beast starts to weaken. Another few seconds and...

  It drops to the ground, dead. I fall from its back, and look into its face. This must be one of the largest antipedes I have ever encountered, and one cut from its razor sharp teeth could have filled me with enough poison to knock me out for many hours. So this was a real threat, a real challenge. No wonder my blood is pumping so fast through my body, no wonder my adrenalin level is so high, no wonder my heart is racing.

  But it's still not enough. I can feel all this rage inside me, but it's not quite at the level required for me to be able to take on Duncan with absolute certainty that I can destroy him.

  "Bertie!" says a voice from nearby. I turn to see a man standing, staring at the dead beast. He walks over and looks down at it, an expression of shock on his face. "Oh Bertie..." He turns to me, the shock replaced by anger. There seem to be tears in his eyes. "You did this?"

  "Do you want to be next?" I ask.

  He stares at me. It's curious, but this man - who looks so ordinary and so weak - seems to be completely unafraid of me. I can't remember the last time someone looked at me without fear in his eyes.

  I step toward him. I wasn't going to kill him, but his lack of fear interests me and suggests he perhaps would be a tougher challenge than I expected. So it might, after all, be worth taking him on and adding him to my list of conquests.

  "What is your name?" I ask.

  "Wormwood," he replies. "What's yours?"

  "Lumic," I reply.

  "I've heard of you," he says. "You should be very careful, Mr. Lumic. Evil begets evil. Evil shall be met with evil. And when evil falls, good men will delight in that defeat."

  "What are you?" I say, smiling, "a preacher?"

  He shakes his head. "I'm far more than a preacher. If you're smart, you'll step back right now."

  I take another step toward him. "The only reason I haven't already killed you," I say, "is that I'm worried your scrawny body might give me indigestion."

  "You killed my friend," he says.

  "You call this worm your friend?" I laugh. "That says a great deal about you."

  "This worm was more honorable than you'll ever be," Wormwood replies. "At least he wasn't evil."

  "There will always be evil," I say. "But why do you believe that I am evil?"

  "I've seen real evil," Wormwood says. "At Carthage. At Gothos. Even at Sangreth. I've seen evil in all its forms. And I've heard your name plenty of times, Mr. Lumic. A lot of bad things."

  "I'm glad my reputation goes ahead of me," I say. "At least you know the name and history of the man who is about to kill you." With that, I reach out to grab his neck, but I find that my hand goes straight through him. This man is not made of flesh and bone, but of light and air.

  He smiles. "What does a man like you do, Mr. Lumic, when he can no longer use his capacity for physical violence to cause pain to others? What other weapons do you have?"

  I step back. I will not let this fool see that I am angered by his incorporeal form. "I
do not need to kill you," I say firmly. "I have other things to be doing, other places to go. People of importance to kill. I'll leave you here to mourn your worm."

  I turn and start to walk away. This Wormwood creature is annoying, but this is a good thing. My anger at not being able to kill Wormwood is rising, and finally I feel the true rage that I need. I am ready to destroy Duncan, and I am close to him. He is just a couple of streets away. And what pleases me even more is the knowledge that just as I sense myself getting closer to him, he will be sensing my approach. And his heart will be filled with terror. But I also realize that he's pushing back against me. He's trying to block my ability to sense him. Slowing me down. But that's all he can do. Slow me down. He can't stop me.

  Jess

  I'm so close. I can sense Duncan nearby, though I'm not sure exactly where he is. After half an hour of walking alone, I feel that soon I will turn a street corner and find him. My best guess is that he is holed up in one of these buildings, hiding from everything, hoping to heal before his enemies arrive. I can help him, and take him out of the Underworld, away from everything that threatens him. It has been so long since I last saw him, and I've done so much, that I've almost forgotten what it's like to be around him, and what his face looks like. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and there's a part of me that knows I'm going to have to at some point address my feelings about him. Is he a friend? Is he more than a friend? Is he -

  There's a noise behind me. I spin around, half expecting to find Darla or Azael or Lumic following me, or even Duncan, but instead I find that a Flesh Weaver is coming toward me, shuffling forwards, its features covered by its black cloak. For a moment, I tense as I worry that it will attack me, but then I realize that it's injured. Like the other Flesh Weaver that died, this one has been badly wounded. And although it keeps its face hidden under the cloak, I can tell that it's seriously hurt, perhaps even dying. It limps to a halt in front of me.