Tales of Crow- The Complete series Box Set

by Chris Ward

  As he lapped at her like a dehydrated cow drinking from a trough, she closed her eyes, thought about some of her better lovers, and wondered how long it would be before he got tired and gave up trying to make her orgasm.

  Snow was dumping all around him as O-Remo tried to get a foothold on the slippery wall to push himself a few more inches up the drainpipe. The building was only two floors, so why did it look so damn high?

  He’d managed it once. The back wall of the building had several vestibules protruding from it, with drainpipes on each corner. He had managed to shimmy up one, but the light he had seen had turned out to be a standing lamp sitting alone in an empty room. The next room along, though, had a brighter light in it, and he was sure he had finally found her.

  O-Remo wished he had brought his stash with him. Just to smell it now, to hold it in his hand, would give him the comfort to push on, to see through the window above him and find out what Karin was doing here at British Heights.

  ‘Oh, shit!’

  His shoe slipped on a crust of ice and he fell backwards, landing in the snow that was now about fifteen centimetres deep. Relief that he didn’t have his stash washed over him, but he really felt like giving up on his detective mission and going back to his room.

  One more try, he promised himself.

  He rolled over, wiping snow out of his face, and climbed back to his feet. He glanced left and right along the gloomy back of the building, wondering if there was an easier way up, a ladder that just happened to be leaning against the wall nearby, or even just a coil of rope. But there was nothing, only a—

  O-Remo’s head jerked back around, his heart thundering.

  There, back in the trees, about twenty metres away, a bird thing was standing with its head cocked, watching him.

  The only light on the edge of the forest came from the windows above him, so his eyes could be mistaken. Then of course, there was the snow, which was falling so thickly that it would cover his eyes in a few seconds as he tried to look. But there was definitely something there, a strange, feathery creature that stood with its head cocked, beady eyes watching him above a long, curved beak.

  ‘Huh? What the hell?’

  It looked like a bird. It should have been a bird, but it couldn’t have been, because it wasn’t in a tree or even near a branch, it was standing in the middle of the path, watching him, its head about five feet off the ground. A thin, pinched face, small eyes that seemed to reflect the light from the window above him. Rather like a cat’s, he thought. Knowing, intelligent.

  Predatory.

  He blinked, and the bird thing had gone. The snowfall was getting heavier and heavier, bringing with it a dense fog, and O-Remo could barely see his hands in front of his face.

  Suddenly he really didn’t want to be out here anymore, in the twilight shadows behind the Grand Mansion, a long, long way from any way to get inside, with the snowfall getting worse.

  And something out here with him.

  He’d had hallucinations on smack before. They were more like strange, waking dreams, but he’d never really feared them. He gained a new perception on things, and the band, whether the others would admit it or not, had got some great material out of his drug binges. But this … this was different.

  The snowfall eased for a moment, and the trees reappeared, but the bird thing had gone. Perhaps he was just tired, or sick, or it was the drugs after all. He grimaced and turned away, glancing back up at the window one last time. If Karin was up there, she would have to wait.

  Time to get out of here.

  He looked down at his feet, and there it was crouched beneath him, spindly arms wrapped around its bony knees, its hideous half-human, half-crow face peering up at him. The mouth-beak opened as it cocked its head, and the beady eyes blinked.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts?’ it said, in a thin, reedy voice.

  O-Remo screamed and fell backwards in the snow, flapping at the cold, white drifts like a drowning man lost at sea. He rolled over and over across a gentle embankment, managed to get to his knees and began to crawl away around the back of the building, panting hard, gasping for breath. He didn’t dare look back, but he heard a high-pitched, cackling laugh.

  ‘Help me,’ he moaned, unable to find the strength to cry out. ‘Help me…!’

  It was coming after him, and he would die tonight, out here in the snow. There would be no more tours, no more gold records, no more drugs or sex with groupies, no reconciliation with Karin, the love of his life. It was over, he would die out here, very soon.

  He could hear a rustling at his shoulder, and was sure it was bearing down on him as he stumbled to his feet, staggering along the base of the Grand Mansion, one hand on the wall for support. He twisted his ankle in a snow-covered drain, fell and cracked his knee, and for a second thought about giving up. Then he took another step forward and stumbled against what looked like a fire door. It swung inwards, depositing him on a thin, worn carpet amidst a flurry of snow.

  O-Remo turned and shoved the door shut, not thinking about why it might have been open in the first place. There was no lock that he could see, but he pushed himself to his feet and staggered away from the little vestibule into a wider corridor. His hands left bloody prints on the wall, and though he couldn’t remember how he had hurt himself, the sight of his own blood finally found his voice.

  ‘Help me!’ he screamed at the top of his lungs. He’d rarely put on such a vocal performance at a show, but as he collapsed to the ground, he heard footsteps running towards him, and he prayed-prayed-prayed that it wasn’t the bird-man-thing come to drag him back into the snow and the dark woods beyond.

  The scream came from outside the window just as Forbes groaned and ejaculated inside her. Karin, her legs aching from his hollow, desperate thrusts but her body feeling no sense of pleasure at all, frowned.

  ‘Was I that good?’ Forbes gasped breathlessly in Japanese, slumping down on the bed beside her, his grey chest hair slicked against his saggy man-tits. His tiny penis popped out of her and flopped over on its side like a dying worm.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ Karin said, looking away from him. ‘It came from outside.’

  ‘Oh, really? Perhaps it’s those high school kids messing about in the snow.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they be having dinner around about now?’

  Forbes huffed. ‘I guess they might.’

  From somewhere below them on the second floor came the muffled clump of a door closing, followed a few seconds later by the sound of screams.

  Forbes sighed. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘Sounds like someone’s got themselves into a spot of bother that will no doubt require managerial attention. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you for a while, my love.’

  As Forbes climbed up from the bed and pulled his clothes on, Karin lay back on the bed, stunned.

  She knew that voice, of course she did. She’d heard those screams in dozens of arenas all across Japan, watching from the side of the stage as Plastic Black Butterfly tamed another rabid crowd of teenagers.

  It was O-Remo.

  9

  Bad turkey and a monster in the woods

  Nakamura coughed and dropped his plates on to the floor as a scream of ‘Help me!’ came from the hall outside the dining room.

  ‘You dumbass,’ Ogiwara said. ‘You got sauce on my trousers. I’ve got half a mind to make you eat a fistful of piss-stained snow for that.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear that?’ Nakamura said.

  ‘Some kid playing around,’ Ogiwara replied. ‘Who gives a crap?’

  ‘In case you haven’t noticed, we’re the only kids here. There are no other school groups. Just us and a bunch of staff.’

  ‘And that shit rock band.’

  ‘Yeah, and three of them.’

  ‘One of them’s getting up,’ Nakamura said, coughing again.

  ‘Stop your stupid coughing! If I get sick because of you, I’ll kick your ass.’

  ‘Sorry, I just feel kind of strange.’


  ‘Must be the air pressure. I’ve never seen so much snow.’

  Nakamura didn’t reply. He was watching the table where the big, muscular drummer and the weird bass player with the abnormally large eyes were sitting, as the good-looking one who played lead guitar went running out into the hall.

  ‘You don’t think that scream came from their singer? No one’s seen him here but there were four places set at the table. You know there were those rumours, don’t you? That he had a drug problem, which was why their last three albums failed. Perhaps this place is also a reform centre.’

  ‘Shut up, you idiot. I don’t care what some stupid rock band is doing. They suck. I might go over and tell them that right now.’

  He glanced back at the other students. Several of the girls, including Kaede, were staring at the band with obvious adulation. It made him sick. He spat on to the floor.

  ‘Ogiwara! You dirty boy!’

  Ogiwara grinned. ‘Sorry, Sensei. I had a frog in my throat.’

  ‘Clean that up! And help Nakamura pick up his broken dishes. The staff shouldn’t have to pick up your mess.’

  ‘Yes, sir…’

  As Kirahara-sensei stalked off, Ogiwara turned back to Nakamura. ‘I don’t know about you, but there’s definitely something funny going on about this place. I think we should check it out.’

  Ken found O-Remo slumped in a leather armchair in the reception area, blood dribbling down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead, one leg hooked up over the thick armrest as if he’d been blown there by the wind. His chest rose and fell in great choking shudders, while his fingers played nervously with the metal studs along the chair’s seams. A pale-faced Japanese receptionist stood nearby, holding out a small towel, while behind her a tall foreign girl fumbled with a first aid kit.

  ‘What happened?’ Ken said, squatting down beside his singer.

  ‘Outside … outside, I saw this thing.’

  ‘What on earth were you doing outside?’

  ‘Walking.’

  Ken rolled his eyes. O-Remo had that look about him, that look that said he’d been using. ‘Are you sure you saw what you saw?’

  ‘It was this bird thing…’

  A chuckle came from behind them. Ken looked up to see Rutherford Forbes, the owner of British Heights, standing at the foot of the wide staircase leading up to the museum rooms on the upper level. Ken knew Forbes by reputation; he had his fingers in industries all across Japan, even a couple of record companies. He was the very definition of the “Man” their band had tried to stick it to. He found himself scowling.

  ‘What?’ he said, looking up at the billionaire just as the man zipped up his trousers. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘He saw our resident ghost,’ Forbes said in decent Japanese, a layer of mirth beneath his words. ‘Professor Crow, we call him. Something of a local legend, he is.’ He turned to O-Remo. ‘Looked a bit like a spindly man with a bird’s face, did he?’

  O-Remo nodded. ‘It was hideous.’

  Forbes gave a wide grin. ‘Been a while since the last sighting, so congratulations. You’ve joined an elite club.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘His visits are, of course, infrequent. Limited to those of a … certain disposition.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Ken said.

  Forbes gave him a wide, shit-eating grin. ‘Professor Crow tends to appear to people in bad weather, when the air pressure is heavy, and night has fallen. There have been four or five sightings over the last ten or twelve years. He’s quite a local celebrity. In the summer, teams of hikers go out looking for him.’

  ‘So he exists?’

  Forbes laughed. ‘As much as the abominable snowman exists. Or the Loch Ness Monster. But the existence of those are backed up by hard facts, don’t you know? Depending on whom you ask.’ He winked. Ken felt the urge to punch him.

  ‘He was right there!’ O-Remo shouted, holding his hands out in front of him. Squatted at my feet. He spoke to me … he said … he said…’

  ‘What did he say, young man?’

  O-Remo shook his head. ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘“A penny for your thoughts?”’

  O-Remo started screaming again. Forbes chuckled.

  ‘It was definitely him, then. Do you have a troubled mind, young man? The Professor always seems to appear to those with a few … issues … to contend with.’

  O-Remo was a weeping mess. Ken patted him on the shoulder. ‘Come on, bro. Take it easy.’

  Forbes looked at Ken. ‘I think your friend needs a good night’s sleep. We can take him back to his room.’

  O-Remo jumped up. ‘No! I’m not going back out there! That thing is still out there!’

  Forbes wore a pained expression on his flabby, rosy-cheeked face. ‘Look … okay. We can put him in the King’s Bedroom for tonight. That’s upstairs.’ He waved two of the receptionists forward, and in English told them: ‘Escort this young man up to the King’s Bedroom and make him comfortable. Give him these.’ He handed over two tablets. ‘And … lock him in. It’s for his own benefit.’

  As the two young ladies took one of O-Remo’s arms each and led him up the stairs, Ken wondered how much he was supposed to have understood. Forbes perhaps didn’t realise the amount of English music Plastic Black Butterfly listened to on the road while their crusty old van limped from one dive to another, and how it had made Ken’s listening comprehension in particular extremely good. Maybe I’m just paranoid, Ken thought. A couple of sleeping pills and a night away from the smack won’t do O-Remo any harm.

  Or it might make him go cold turkey, but I guess we’ll worry about that if and when it happens. Out loud, he muttered, ‘At least someone gets some turkey. Bastard students.’

  He took one last look at O-Remo’s limping feet as the two receptionists helped him up the stairs, then he headed back to the dining hall. He hadn’t finished eating yet.

  Moving out of the way as the guitarist strode past them, Ogiwara pulled Nakamura close. ‘Did you hear that? There’s some fucking monster in the woods. Man, we have to go look for it. Perhaps we can catch it and sell it.’

  ‘You’re crazy. There must be two foot of snow outside. I’m not going out in that unless I have to. Let’s go and play some pool up in that common room on the second floor.’

  Ogiwara shrugged. ‘You’re a pussy, but all right. Let’s go see if some of the girls want to come.’ As Nakamura groaned and clutched at his stomach, Ogiwara added, ‘And just go and take a dump, for God’s sake.’

  Back in the dining room, Kirahara-sensei was telling the few remaining students who hadn’t disappeared in all the commotion that they could have some free time before bed. Jun glanced up at Akane, who had barely eaten anything while those around her had gorged themselves. He offered her a smile, but she just looked at him for a moment then looked down at her plate, at an assortment of leftover spaghetti, potato croquettes, lumps of teriyaki chicken, and a scattering of rice. She ran a finger up and down her fork as if it was an old friend, then put it down at the side of her plate.

  ‘Okay, so you know what you have to do for tomorrow, don’t you?’ Kirahara-sensei was saying while most of the remaining students ignored him. ‘I want one side of your notebooks written about the classes that you had today. You can hand them in to me before breakfast. Until tomorrow, you can have free time to do as you wish. There’s a pool and a gym on the first floor, and a recreation room on the second. You can also use the lounges in your dormitory buildings. The shop is open until eight, and you can buy soft drinks in the pub until nine. You may have noticed that it’s snowing quite a bit outside. Feel free to go and mess about in it, but dress warmly and don’t go away from the centre—’

  ‘Because there’s a monster in the woods!’ shouted Ogiwara, coming in through the door to the dining room and doing a crude Frankenstein impression before leaning in and pretending to bite Kirahara-sensei’s neck. The teacher flapped a hand
to shoo him away as Ogiwara danced out of range, grunting with laughter.

  Kirahara-sensei sighed as most of the students followed Ogiwara’s lead and burst out laughing. Even Akane offered a brief smile. Jun just rolled his eyes.

  ‘So, off you go,’ Kirahara-sensei said. ‘But, you know, watch out for Ogiwara’s monster.’

  More laughter, followed by a grinding of chairs as the rest of the students stood up. Jun scowled as a couple of coughing students pushed past him. He looked for Akane, but she had gone. He sighed and turned to leave, then felt a hand on his arm.

  ‘Hey.’

  Kaede pouted at him. ‘I heard you were telling Ogiwara about us.’

  ‘What? That clown. I didn’t say anything—’

  ‘You liar. You only went with me so you could tell your stupid friends about me. You’re a prick, Jun Matsumoto, and you’re dumped.’

  Jun stared at her. There was a hint of a smile on Kaede’s lips as she stalked off, almost as though she’d come to a natural conclusion about their relationship and had used the first excuse she could find. The result made him happy, but the delivery made him feel like a piece of crap. Shoulders slumped, he trailed after her, the last student to leave the dining hall. As he reached the door, he glanced back. The band had gone, and the only people left in the dining hall were the waiting staff as they cleared away the leftover food.

  ‘It’s going to be a bitch to get down the mountain in this snow,’ Janine said to Ron, as they stood around in the reception area, waiting for the staff bus. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t cancel it tonight.’

  Ron nodded. ‘What’s the plan?’ he asked.

  Janine grinned. ‘We’ll get hammered at an all-you-can-drink bar, then we’ll go to karaoke. Have you tried that yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’