Werewolf Parallel (12 page)

“And what of you, Cameron Duffy?” Grey’s voice boomed. “Will you follow your ruffian friend?”

“No.” Cameron looked down at his trainers. “I can’t.”

Grey laughed. “I see my trust in you was not misplaced. Why, with a few more years’ toil, I might consider moving you upwards. And if you keep going – and really apply yourself – one day you could be just like me. Another Mr Grey! How would you like that?”

“Just like you?” Cameron felt sick.

“Oh yes. I have a way of spotting talent, of
absorbing
the best… In the end, I always get what I want.”

A grey puffball grew and grew, drawing in the instruments that they desperately flung at it, forcing them back and out into the street, –

“I could
never
be like you,” Cameron shouted. He snatched up the discarded guitar, and ripped open its wrapping. Memories were flooding through him, of songs and freedom and music, of the person he was really meant to be. “This feeling I have that I don’t fit in… Maybe that
doesn’t
mean there’s something wrong with me. Maybe it just means I was meant to find somewhere better.”

Grey’s disembodied voice raged from the speakers. “I warn you, boy; if you touch that you will pay for it. You will never stop paying for it!”

Cameron ignored him. A tune was forming in his head, a song with a rocking, strolling rhythm that spoke to him of somewhere else, far away from his dull life here – a place filled with danger and monsters and excitement.

Maybe Morgan would let him play it at the Alhambra, with Werewolf Parallel…

His fingers formed a pattern on the fretboard. He lifted his other hand to strum the strings – and with that chord, the whole world changed…

“A good choice, playing the guitar.”

Cameron was sitting on a pile of skins at the back of a draughty cave, his hands clutching at midair. An old man with tufted white hair and intense blue eyes was watching him with an expression of wry amusement.

“Personally I favour the fiddle, but still…”

Cameron’s arms dropped to his sides. He opened his mouth but the old man lifted a bony finger and made a sibilant shushing sound. “Don’t go saying anything daft like ‘where am I?’ or ‘what’s going on?’ or ‘what sort of fur is this, because it’s awffy cosy?’ Those would count as
first questions
and that’s what I’m bound to answer. You’d be amazed how many folks waste their chance. You may only go through the ordeal once.”

“The warehouse… Eve and Morgan and the guitar,” said Cameron, as the meaning of the old man’s speech sunk in. “That was the tes–”

“For your sake, laddie, I’m going to assume that was a statement, not a question. Your last warning, mark you!” The old man grinned impishly, baring his few remaining teeth. “That was the test, yes, and I am Cutler, also known as the Augur of Calton Hill.”

Cameron rubbed his eyes, fighting the impulse to ask
how long he’d been imagining his other life. “It felt real, like I’d been there forever.”

“It was an ordeal, laddie. What were you expecting? High Tea with jam and scones?”

“No, but –”

“That comes after.” Cutler hobbled to a low table. “Well, it would if I had any. I have to rely on what my birds can forage.” He returned with a broken oatcake and a glass of something brown and brackish.

“It’ll do ye good,” he admonished, observing Cameron’s sceptical expression. “Now tell me, laddie – and never mind the year, because at my age they’re all much the same, just a wee bit chillier or warmer – what’s the date in the Human World outside?”

“January 27
^th
, I think,” said Cameron through a mouthful of stale oatcake. “Or it was when I came here.”

“Aye, that would figure. You’re deep in the wolf month now. That’s what they called it, when the cold is at its worst, and things grow desperate and dark, and you face the greatest chance of being consumed by a wolf…” The old man looked at Cameron shrewdly. “That holds true for the wolf inside too. Now ask your question.”

“I passed the…” Cameron bit his tongue and swiftly re-arranged his words. “I get a question,
because
I passed the test. That was definitely a statement, by the way.”

“Well caught,” said Cutler. “Yes. You faced your greatest fear.”

“So my fear is,” Cameron fought to keep all hint of questioning incredulity out his voice, “I end up working in a catalogue store.”

“No. You fear that you will lose all that makes you different, become an ordinary human again, and so be
forced to return to the world you left behind.”

“Oh.” Cameron considered the Augur’s words – and realised their truth.

Since his dad had died, he’d been thrown into a Parallel realm of mayhem and magic that was dangerous, but kind of wonderful as well. For the past year, running wild on wolf nights and taking over his gran’s old business with Eve and Morgan, he’d felt like he’d found his place at last. He had no wish to go back to his previous life at all.
What was there for him now?
Only his school friend Amy, and although he liked and cared for her, sometimes she reminded him a little too much of his old problems. The Augur’s ordeal – although it had been surreal and dreamlike – had also been the closest he had come to ‘real life’ in quite some time…

“To be fair,” Cameron said, “that
is
pretty scary.”

“Still… you triumphed. You gave them what for.”

“But all I did was pick up a guitar! It wasn’t anything special.”

“It was enough. The choice revealed your true nature.” The Augur’s finger prodded Cameron’s forehead. “Music runs through you as strongly as the wolf does, and it may outlast it – if the wolf has other plans.”

“Other plans!” Cameron swallowed. “That’s mad. You’re talking like it’s a separate thing. The wolf is me. It’s just me. It’s me when I change.”

“That was how it began, but that’s not all it is now.” The Augur’s eyes glittered. “Your Were-side comes not only from the wolf-boy who saved your life, but from the Parallel itself.” He waved his wrinkled claw of a hand. “
Remember
…”

A vision leapt into Cameron’s mind, of that last night
on Arthur’s Seat with his treacherous grandmother.

She’d opened a portal that led to the ancient heart of the Parallel. As the power coursed, he had grown weaker and she had grown stronger. Morgan had prowled and raged in wolf-form, unable to help, until at last a desperate solution presented itself
.

“No, Morgan, not her! Bite me, bite me!”

“The Parallel was part of the wolf’s birth, and its claim is very strong indeed. It has gifted you a champion. Why do you think your powers exceed that of other Weres?”

“No.” Cameron’s brow knitted. He didn’t want to hear this. “The shifts happen when I need them, that’s all. Like he’s watching out for me –”

“And who would ‘he’ be?”

“The wolf inside, of course. The other me…” Cameron tailed off.

The Augur nodded. “You’ve already sensed it. The wolf has woken. He knows who he must protect, and who he must fight. He has already started to slip free, and run by himself.”

“That’s not true! It can’t be.”

“He led you to me, did he not? You followed his shadow, all the way to Calton Hill, after he saved your friend.”

The stab of recognition that accompanied his every glance at the wolf…
It wasn’t just Cameron who’d thought it was familiar – Morgan had tracked the wolf’s scent and Eve had known him too. Cameron had felt its presence leave his mind when Eve was in danger, and return as he had world-shifted through to the Parallel, up by the monument on Calton Hill.

He had to face it.
The wolf was him – but it wasn’t
him as well
. Somehow his wolf-side was getting out of control.

“What’s going to happen to me?” he blurted – and clapped his hand over his mouth. “No, that’s not it! That’s not my question! I take it back!”

“You cannot. It’s been asked.”

The Augur turned and shuffled towards the mouth of the cave. Cameron hurried after, pulling himself up sharp as he realised the opening gave onto a sheer drop. Beneath a glowering dark green sky lay the Parallel version of the city: its teetering towers, domes and tenements a twisted, higgledy-piggeldy reflection of its Human World counterpart. He had never seen the Parallel from such a vantage point before, but any pleasure he might have felt was short-lived. A familiar low wolfish moan sounded in his ear as he realised, one by one, the city’s lights were fading out.

“The Greys approach,” said Cutler. “Daemonkind are fleeing the Parallel for the safety of their own world. Soon even the Augury will be under threat.”

“That makes it worse.” Cameron rubbed at his chest with his fist. “I meant to ask how to save the Parallel. That’s what I planned. I’ve let everyone down.”

It was all going to come true: the strange, bleak, magic-free existence he’d inhabited in his ordeal. Grey would empty the Parallel, Dr Black and Watt would run their Engine, and the worlds would be torn apart forever…

“Dinna fret, laddie.” The Augur patted vaguely at his arm. “What you asked and what you meant to ask may be closer than you think. My birds will know the truth of it.”

He cast his arms wide, muttering under his breath. There was the sound of beating wings, and the light filtering into the cave cut out. The rush of feathery motion passed, and Cameron’s eyes widened as he took in what was happening.

Hundreds of birds were rising from the trees, rooftops, nooks and crannies of the city, surging past the cave and soaring upwards in billowing plumes. For a moment, the black lines coalesced against the sky, and seemed to outline the face of a wolf. Then the pattern was broken.

“I’ve not seen this before. The fates are too finely balanced.” The Augur raised his arms further, the material of his monk’s habit hanging down like wings. In response, the birds rose again, spiralling faster and faster. No outline emerged this time – the pattern remained chaotic. As Cameron watched, some of the distant black dots started to rocket into each other and spiral downwards.

“They’re falling,” he said. “Falling out the sky.”

The Augur’s face rumpled. “The wolf will save you or destroy you, that’s all I can see. Perhaps it will be both all at once.”

“That’s no use! How can it be both?” Cameron yelled, barely containing the urge to shake the old man. “Which is it? Which’ll it be?”

Cutler’s eyes blazed, suddenly yellow-bright and owl-like. “You will only win by giving up that which you prize the most,” he cried, then his arms fell and his head bowed, and the visionary power seemed to leave him.

Cameron turned away, unable to look at him. He rubbed his face. “That’s it, then. I do lose the wolf. I go
back to being ordinary.”

“Cameron Duffy; born of clan Ives, bargainer with Portal deities, slayer of Mrs Ferguson and bearer of the Parallel Champion – you are strong.” The old man’s voice was hoarse. “And together with the Wolf-Boy, and the Young-Old Girl, ordinary is something you will never be.”

Below, the birds were settling, leaving the sky and returning to their numerous roosts and resting places.

“I still have to beat them,” said Cameron. “I have to stop Black and Grey and save the Parallel. Can’t you tell me what to do?”

“I’ve already said more than I should.” Cutler reached for a violin that lay propped against the cave wall and tucked it under his scrawny chin. “Grey will have a fight on his hands if he comes here. My birds will see to that.” He drew the bow across the strings and began to play a lament so high and keening that the glass of brackish liquid vibrated in Cameron’s hands.

He set it down. “Are you just going to fiddle while the Parallel fades?”

“You’d be amazed what the right notes can achieve, laddie,” said Cutler as the sound died away. “Think on that. Music may be the route to my salvation, as well as your own…”

His bare foot started to tap on the earth floor as he took up his bow again. The tempo of his fiddle increased, growing faster and faster, and breaking out into a reel. As he played, the Augur danced, jigging round the cave with surprising speed. He whirled past Cameron in a blur of robes, or was it the fluttering of wings, and –

Cameron blinked.

He was on the hillside. The National Monument stood three-sided and incomplete, the troupe of bird-men gone.

He’d been returned to the Human World. Resting with their backs against a pillar were two familiar figures.

Morgan gave him a brisk nod. “Did you pass?”

“Yup.”

“Good man.”

Morgan’s response was surprisingly subdued. Eve too looked pale and shaken.

“I have to tell you though,” Cameron said. “I asked the wrong question.”

“Oh
come on
.” Morgan rolled his eyes. “We had a plan. Am I the only one that remembered the plan?”

“Don’t be hard on him, Morgan. It’s not as easy as you think. I asked a different question too. I couldn’t help it.” Eve gave Cameron a curious look, the meaning of which he couldn’t discern. “His answer was about you and me both, Cam. And it changes everything.”

“So what’s your greatest fear?” said Cameron, trying to break Eve’s intense gaze. “Mine was pretty random.”

“There was only one thing it could be.” Eve sat down on the stone plinth below the pillars, drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them protectively. “I woke up in that same tiny camp bed in the kitchen I’d slept in for years, my arms and legs sticking out everywhere. Almost immediately, the curtain across the alcove twitched and moved, re-forming into that evil eight-legged face I hoped I’d never see again.

“‘Such a lazy slugabed,’ she growled at me. ‘Idle, idle. Get up, girl. There’s work to be done.’

“‘Yes, Mrs Ferguson,’ I said. It was like I’d never left.

“The day started like so many others.

“I scrubbed the steps. I took delivery of the raw meat that she liked to feast on. I cleaned the kitchen. I dusted and polished all her nasty little ornaments and knick knacks. And everywhere I went, she watched. From the curtains in the living room and kitchen, to the tapestry in the hall, she was always present.

“‘Quite good,’ she said. ‘And now you will see to me. I need to be ready for my visitors.’

“‘Oh no, Mrs Ferguson,’ I begged. ‘Must I?’

“‘But of course. I must look my best. Go to the bedroom.’

“She was lying there in state, her arms folded across her chest. The old woman that I had to call my ‘auntie’, but was really just an empty vessel: Mrs Ferguson’s human body, cold and stiff, waiting for the spider daemon to animate it.

“She was like a miser with that avatar, hoarding her minutes and hours. She knew that every time she inhabited it, it would age a little further and come closer to death.

“It always seemed to me like it was dead already.

“‘Must I, must I?’ I said, as I brushed its hair and looked out its clothes.

“‘Pretend it’s a doll, dear,’ Mrs Ferguson’s daemon aspect hissed from the curtains. ‘Little girls like playing with dolls. Well, good little girls do, don’t they? And you are good, aren’t you?’

“‘Yes, Mrs Ferguson.’

“‘That’s what I hoped. Now dress me in my finest. Style my hair. Primp me and preen me! Make me beautiful for those who come to call.’ Her spidery legs jittered with excitement…”

“I can’t believe he made you go back there…” Cameron shivered. He’d first met Eve at Mrs Ferguson’s flat and the horror of that place lived with him still. “Did you get any clue it wasn’t real, that it was still the Augur’s trial? I had these memories breaking through in mine, hints of the real world…”

“Not at first. But when I saw her avatar lying there, I started to remember. You see, it hadn’t always been that old. It aged and changed while I lived with Mrs
Ferguson. And eventually, it got too old altogether…

“‘Mrs Ferguson,’ I said, confused. ‘This isn’t your avatar. You wore this one out.’ I struggled with the effort of recollection. ‘I remember… You bid me wrap it up, and put it down in the cellar with the others.’

“The face in the curtains froze – exactly like those huge house-spiders do when they catch you looking at them out the corner of your eye.

“‘Well spotted, dear. I have a replacement, don’t I?’ she crooned. ‘Much fresher and younger than this one. Would you like to see it?’

“I nodded, thinking it couldn’t be much worse than what I already had to deal with.

“‘Very well, dear. Go to the kitchen. And take a look in the larder.’

“It was cold in there, in among the jams and cakes she had me bake for her respectable visitors, with the dripping joints of meat hanging from the roof. Propped against the wall, like a spare floor-mop, was a young woman in her late teens or early twenties.

“Not exactly pretty, I thought, but striking, with an intelligent face and long dark hair.

“In the corner of the larder, a commemorative royal tea-towel had been tacked across the ventilator that gave onto the yard, preventing prying eyes from looking in. The cloth bulged and morphed, the Queen’s eyes turning red as Mrs Ferguson took it over and made it spider.

“‘All that she carried with her,’ she said as she materialised – apropos of nothing as far as I could tell.

“I knew better than to idly question her.

“I stared at the young woman. She seemed familiar,
and I liked her – not in so much as I wanted to be her friend, but in some strange way I wished to
be
her, when I grew up.

“‘She’s lovely,’ I said. ‘So much nicer than your old face.’

“‘Would you like to know how I came by her? It’s an amusing story. Do you recall that awful Ms Ives and her tedious grandson?’

“‘Yes, Mrs Ferguson.’

“‘Seven years ago, Isobel Ives came to me with a problem. Her daughter-in-law was returning from Canada. Now, this was the last thing old Ives wanted. I knew all about her squalid plans to eek out her wretched life, and who they were focussed on. If Elaine returned, there was a good chance she would persuade Ms Ives’ son, Malcolm, to come away with her this time, taking both him and Cameron far from Ives’ reach.

“‘Ives couldn’t permit this to happen, and so she came to me, bearing gifts and promises. I could do whatever I wanted to divert Elaine, anything at all. She must simply never arrive.

“‘I agreed. And in exchange I asked for “all that the woman carried with her.”

“‘Ives knew it was a suspiciously small price to pay for a banishment, so I made her bring me some pointless token as well. But she never knew the truth.’

“The spider daemon cackled. ‘All that she carried with her! As if I cared for suitcases and airport novels. But the obstinate three year old, wriggling under her arm… Elaine Duffy was bringing home her infant daughter, and that daughter would be mine. Wasn’t I clever?’”

“Hold on,” Cameron leapt up, interrupting Eve’s
narrative. “Is this for real? This isn’t a messed-up alternate world thing? You’re telling me I’ve got a sister? A baby sister I never knew about?”

Again Eve gave him that strange far-away look. “I don’t know how much of the ordeal was true – but I do know the truth of this.”

“Don’t tell me she’s still hidden away somewhere. I’ve got to go look for her –”

Eve smiled. “No, she’s safe. I’m certain of it. Let me tell you the rest of my story, then you’ll understand…

“I listened to Mrs Ferguson gloating, going on and on about how clever she was to capture this poor child. And this time I didn’t agree with her. I didn’t meekly say, ‘Yes, Mrs Ferguson.’ Instead I told her what she’d done was wrong and evil. It took all my courage to stand up to her, but the daemon just shrugged it off.

“‘Do you think so, dear? How delightful.’ Her fiery eyes swept over the black-haired girl in the larder. ‘Here she is. The child – all grown up.’

“‘Seven years ago…’ I frowned. ‘How can that be? She’s nearly twenty.’

“‘Every day ages her,’ said Mrs Ferguson, ‘
when I step inside her head
.’

“And that’s when I realised: the girl was me. I was staring at myself!

“The black-haired girl vanished – or perhaps I swapped places with her, I’m not certain. All I know is my memories of the real world were coming back with a rush. The dream-ordeal was starting to break down and fall apart. I knew I was no longer the same scared little girl Mrs Ferguson had been able to bully and push about.

“‘You wicked old spider,’ I yelled. ‘How can you still be haunting me? Morgan and Cameron dealt with you. They burnt you – they tore you down and burnt your curtain and that was the end of you.’

“‘You think it’s so easy to vanquish a Weaver Daemon?’ she shrieked delightedly. ‘You foolish child. We knit and weave our material bodies on the human plane, while our inviolable hearts remain deep in the Daemonic realm. Those boys destroyed only my earthly body.
And I have made another…
’

“She came lurching towards me, her legs skittering furiously as she tore herself free from the cloth…

“But she’d got it wrong.

“The body she’d woven from the tea-towel was small by her usual standards, and I wasn’t a little girl any more.

“I was grown up.

“
Proper me
.

“Eve. As I am now.

“I grabbed the tea-towel by its corners, ripped it down, and rushed into the kitchen. It squirmed and scrabbled beneath my hands, but I ignored it. I flung the oven doors open, threw out the pastries that were cooking for Mrs Ferguson’s respectable visitors.

“‘Stop!’ the spider-daemon screamed. ‘If you burn me, you’ll never know the truth. I’ll take it back with me to Daemonic, hide it in my hiding place. You’ll never know who you really are –’

“‘To be rid of you, it’ll be worth it.’

“I slammed the oven door shut.

“And I woke up in the Augur’s cave. I asked him who I really was. I couldn’t help it, even though I think by then I already knew the answer.”

Eve jumped up and put her hands on Cameron’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t you see, you idiot boy? There’s a reason I look like you, and your horrid grandma. There’s a reason that vampire judge believed our blood was connected. There’s even a reason we both hear music when we world-shift. It’s because you’re my brother. My little big brother.”

She pulled him close to her, and for a moment neither of them spoke.

Then Cameron murmured, “If I’m going to suddenly acquire a baby sister, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Even though I’m grumpy and bad tempered?”

“Especially because you’re grumpy and bad tempered. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They stepped back, and studied each other like they’d newly met, then both broke into simultaneous smiles.

“Do you think you sort of knew, all that time ago, back at Mrs Ferguson’s?” said Eve. “And that’s why you helped me escape?”

Cameron snorted. “I thought you were a snotty little pain.”

“Oh, what a relief. I didn’t like you either.”

“I don’t feel like that now, obviously.”

“Obviously!”

Morgan made a not-too-subtle disgusted noise, and scuffed his boot on the ground. “It’s getting frosty round here. Or is it pure
slush
?”

“Morgan,” Cameron gave him a hard look. “You don’t exactly seem surprised?”

“That’s cos I’m not. It doesn’t take a genius, just a good nose. You both smell similar.”

“Oh, that’s gross,” said Eve. “Who’d houseshare with
werewolves?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” said Cameron.

Morgan shrugged. “Family’s tricky. And you two already look out for each other. Would knowing have helped?” He coughed and glowered. “Anyway, is no one going to ask about my ordeal?”

“Oh poor Morgan, lovely Morgan… Don’t sulk!” said Eve in an exaggerated fashion. “Tell us what happened. Where did the Augur send you? Back in time as well?”

“Nowhere.”

“How do you mean?”

“Just that. It was nowhere. Like I was in a huge white featureless room, but I could never reach the edge or touch the ceiling, and the floor felt like air beneath my feet. I couldn’t even tell if I was wolf or human. No sound. No smell. I tried to call out, to howl for someone, but my voice didn’t work.” Morgan scratched his neck. “You always need someone, when you’re a wolf. Probably comes from growing up in a pack. I could tell there was no one near me there. I was totally alone.”

Cameron exchanged glances with Eve. It was a long speech, by Morgan’s standards, and he could tell the wolf-boy had suffered.

“You must’ve been scared,” said Eve.

“Wasn’t my finest moment.”

“What did you do?” said Cameron.

“Nothing, for a really long time. I wore myself out, trying to out-run the white, searching for something to fight, to bite and claw against. In the end, I just sort of curled up and shut myself off. That’s when I started to remember… I remembered you.” Morgan’s head hung down, a curtain of tangled fair hair shielding his
eyes. “Both of you, I mean. I knew you’d come for me, somehow. I knew you wouldn’t leave me there. Even if I had to wait years and years, you’d find me. And that meant I wasn’t really alone.”

“Oh Morgan,” said Eve. “What a thing to go through.”

“Don’t be wet.” Morgan swept his hair back and glared defiantly. “Least I asked my question. Not like you dolts.”

“Yes, consider that point made,” said Cameron.

“Over-made, I’d say,” said Eve. “Positively repetitious.”

“Nah, I don’t mean it really. Maybe the ordeal was easier for me, cos I already know who I am – what I am – and what I want.” Morgan summoned a grin. “Right then I’d been pushed, shoved, squawked at, and shut up in an Infinite Room of Nothing, and I really, really wanted to get back at someone. I said to that scrawny wee Augur he’d better tell me how to stop the Greys, and tell me quickly or I’d see he ended up as millet for his stupid birds. Do you know what he said?”

Cameron and Eve shook their heads.

“‘There’s no such thing as the Greys.’

“I said, ‘That’s odd mate, cause I’ve been chased by them, and you’d better not be saying I’m lying.’

“He just waved a finger at me, and laughed. ‘The wolf month is come, right enough. Uncertain is the temper of the wolf!’ Then he did his mystic mojo with the birds.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said, ‘There’s no such thing as the Greys because the Greys are all one,’ – just one overgrown fungus daemon. That makes Grey strong, because he can mobilise, command and get intel from all his offshoot
blob men, but it’s his big weakness too. If we can destroy the root, get rid of Grey himself, all the rest will shrivel and wither up.”

“He keeps saying he wants to expand,” said Cameron thoughtfully. “We’ve gotta make him shrink somehow. Cut him back…”

“That’s not all,” said Morgan. “It’s the pack that’s the key to it somehow. We’re gonna need their help. That’s what Cutler the Augur told me, before scooting me back out onto the hill. You and me, mate, we’ve gotta go see them. We’re gonna have to take trip together – right into the heart of Daemonic.”