Werewolf Parallel (16 page)

“Eek,” said Cameron. “How did you escape?”

“I said I was Black’s sister and I made pottery owls for a living and he harrumphed and let me go… But I got the impression they all think his ideas are pretty controversial.”

“Pottery owls!” Cameron gave a half-smile. “What about Dr Black and Mr Grey? Any sign?”

“Not yet. I think Black’s planning to make his big entrance later…”

“It’s spooky down here,” said Cameron, glancing round the basement gallery at the carved stones, broken helmets, skulls and bones.

“It’s full of old dead things… What did you expect?” Morgan pushed his nose against the glass of a display case. Lying on a backdrop of roots was a thin female wooden figure with beaded eyes. “Most of this stuff must date back to before the Parallel was even formed…”

“Don’t!” Eve caught his arm and pulled him away.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“It may be old, but I don’t think it’s all dead.” She lowered her eyes for a second. “I had a quick look about on the Parallel while I was waiting, just in case I could see Black’s World Engine… and that thing spoke. It said in a high reedy voice, ‘Are you the girl who brings me leaves and flowers? Is it time to rise?’ I told her it was night and she should go back to sleep.” Eve shivered. “I think we should tread carefully. Be respectful. We don’t know what we might wake up.”

“She’s right. Doesn’t that look familiar?” Cameron paused to examine a Roman statue of a lioness that had been dredged up from under the water. Centuries of erosion had eaten away its features, but it reminded him uncomfortably of Janus’s feline stationmaster. “Let sleeping relics lie, I reckon. Do you know where Black’s giving his speech?”

“In the science galleries. I’ll show you.”

Eve led the way up the stairs that rose into the main section of the museum. The light levels increased as they approached the central hall, as did the hubbub of voices. They passed into a large gallery with two balconies ringed around a central space filled with icons
of innovation and engineering.

Cameron found himself lingering, staring up at a majestic metal rocket that towered above him, nearly reaching the roof. Almost as tall was the giant cogged wheels and tilting wooden beam of the early industrial-age pumping mechanism next to it. At ground level, the conical shape of a NASA space capsule glinted beside a case in which the glassy-eyed remains of Dolly – the world’s first cloned sheep – rotated. An open doorway gave onto the area holding the evening reception, which was thronged with people in smart clothes, all milling and chatting.

“Baa,” Morgan said solemnly to the stuffed sheep.

“No, Morgan. Just no,” said Eve. “That isn’t helping.”

“What? You said we had to be respectful.”

“I didn’t mean to –” She broke off as a bald-headed man in a dinner jacket left the party and came bustling up to her.

“Ah, there you are, my dear. I was wondering if you’d got lost? This is an unusual conference venue, but not without its amusements.”

“Hello Professor Babbage. How… nice to see you again.” Eve made frantic flicking motions behind her back, indicating Cameron and Morgan should take cover, but it was too late.

The Professor frowned. “Who are your friends?”

“Students,” said Eve.

“Remarkably scruffy, even for our lot.” Professor Babbage scrutinised Cameron’s muddy trainers and Morgan’s leather jacket. “And surprisingly young?”

“We’re boy geniuses,” said Morgan.

“Genii,” corrected Cameron, shooting his friend a
stare. “Dr Morgan here got his PhD in, uh, moon studies when he was just fifteen. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh yeah. Know everything about Her Fat
Moonness
. You could say I’m a fan.” Morgan grinned.

“Is that so?” The Professor raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps then your combined intellect could help me solve a little mystery? You see, I was speaking with the esteemed Dr Black, and I mentioned I’d had the pleasure earlier of conversing with his sister – and do you know what he said?”

“It wasn’t a pleasure?” said Eve brightly.

“He tells me he’s an only child. He was quite insistent on the point. I can only conclude therefore that you’re here without permission.” Professor Babbage’s eyes became small and weasely. “What are you – Press? Industry? Some interloper from an upstart university? I might forgive that, under some circumstances… or I might just call security.”

“Security at a boffin conference…” Morgan looked bored. “How scary can that be? C’mon Eve, never mind this creep.”

“You’re no students.” The Professor flushed red. “And you’ll find museum security is quite adept at tackling louts.” He raised his voice. “In here! Intruders! Trying to damage the collection! Come quickly!”

“World-shift!” yelled Cameron. “Slip to the Parallel!”

“Oh, what a good idea,” said Eve.

“Works for me,” added Morgan.

The Professor faded. Cameron had time to see his expression change from outrage to bemusement before the Human World was lost from view. He wouldn’t normally have advocated a world-shift when it could be
observed, but, thought Cameron, the old man deserved it…

He took in his new surroundings.

The Parallel version of the room retained the same arched roof and circling balconies, but was free of all the exhibits – apart from one. The vintage Industrial Age pumping mechanism had grown, its interlocking wheels and pistons spreading to cover one side of the hall. A railing surrounded the bulky contraption, below which its lower parts vanished into the ground. From the machine’s centre, two huge cantilevered arms projected in both directions, a globe mounted at each extremity. On the left-hand sphere, tiny white clouds on wires hovered over a blue sea, and Cameron recognised the familiar continents of Earth. By contrast, its counterpart on the right was predominantly red, its landmasses dark and ragged. It, he deduced, must represent Daemonic.

“The World Engine,” he breathed. “It’s got to be.”

Beneath the projecting arms – and connected to them by cogs – a vertical screw ran to the top plate of an open cylindrical space. Inside the tall chamber, a scrap of something black shifted: an empty void that made his eyes ache.

He moved closer. The darkness twisted and turned. Every time it approached the limits of the chamber an arc of brilliant blue light flashed, forcing it back to the centre. Somehow, it made him think of a wild animal in a trap – caught by its leg and trying desperately to escape.

How-ooooo-ooooooo-ooooooooo-l!

He cried out, fingers digging into his temples. The wolf howl had never sounded louder or more urgent in
his head. Eve and Morgan rushed to his side.

“I’m ok,” he managed to say as the howl died away. “The Engine’s been anchored to the heart of the Parallel, I can feel it. It knows it’s gonna be torn apart. I can’t let that happen.” His face crumpled. “What do I do?”

“You know.” Eve’s voice was quiet. “You’ve already been told. You give up the wolf. You have to let it go.”

“
What does that even mean?
” Cameron yelled, turning on her. “I wouldn’t know how to. I don’t know what to do!”

“Hush up, you two,” Morgan frowned, his head cocked. “There’s one thing I don’t understand –”

“Only one thing? Are you sure?” Eve snapped. She put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry. Nervous again, would you believe?”

“You’re forgiven. I was gonna say – that lump of metal’s not moving. So why the noise? Where’s the steam coming from?”

Cameron’s eyes met Morgan’s. A wheeze haunted the room, like the breath of a sleeping giant. He reached out, fingers spread to touch the blackened metal of the machine’s main wheel. “He’s right. It’s cold… There’s no vibration.”

Morgan moved to the railings and peered over. A fug of smoke nestled thick around the engine’s foundations. “Seems to be coming from below.” He ducked down, stuck his head through the bottom rungs and waved his arms, trying to clear the steam. “There’s definitely something moving down there…”

“That would be me.” A metal hand telescoped out of the smog and anchored itself around Morgan’s neck. The boy retched and kicked, his face turning red. He clawed
at the pincers. Cameron and Eve rushed forward, trying to prise the hand away, but it held fast.

“Grab his legs, Eve! Don’t let it drag him through!”

Without stopping to think, Cameron vaulted over the edge at the unseen assailant. His feet hit ground – just a couple of metres down – and he choked as the foul air entered his lungs. A single orange eye glowed malevolently at him through the fog.

As his vision adjusted to the smoke, he realised he was staring at the cannibalised remains of Watt… The mechanical man was in a sorry state compared to his appearance back in Hogg’s chambers. His body parts and innards were dispersed, a latticework of wires and spot-welds connecting them in to the Engine. His chest inspection-port hung wide, exposing his padlock-shaped heart valve.

“I’ve waited years for this. I’ve sacrificed everything.” Tiny intricate gears spun and bellows pumped, visible within the stripped-down robot’s skull. “I –
WE
will not be stopped.”

The pistons in Watt’s one remaining arm hissed. Methodically, his metallic fingers began to squeeze the life out of Morgan.

Cameron roared. Instinctively, his hands became wolf paws and he swiped at Watt’s chest, trying to claw apart the mechanism that powered the robot. Sparks flew as nails struck metal.

Watt’s disembodied head ratcheted round. “The wolf is strong,” he observed impassively, continuing to throttle Morgan. “Machinery is stronger.”

“Can’t – breathe!” Morgan gasped, tearing at the pincers.

“Cameron, he’s slipping through! I can’t hold him,” Eve shouted. “Do something!”

The robot’s telescoping arm contracted, pulling Morgan closer. The boy’s arms jerked, becoming progressively more uncoordinated, then he fell limp, as if he had no more fight left. As Cameron watched, helpless, something small and brassy slipped from inside Morgan’s shirt and swung down, clanking against hard metal.

Get to the heart of the mystery
…

Cameron’s eyes sharpened. He grabbed the Omniclavis, snapping the cord from Morgan’s neck. It slipped from his grasp and clinked to the ground.

Hands!
he thought desperately.
Be human again!
I need accuracy now, not power.

Pink human fingers plucked the key from the oily floor. He turned and slammed it into the centre of Watt’s heart valve, twisting sharply. The valve popped open as the key morphed to fit, and a bright arc shot between the separate halves. Electrical crackles seethed, crawling like lightning bugs over the network of Watt’s interconnected body parts.

“Sparkles!” Cameron whooped. “At last!”

With a hiss of escaping pressure, Watt’s fingers sprang apart and his arm collapsed, falling in on itself, tier by tier. Cameron grabbed Morgan’s shoulders, catching him before he could topple headfirst into the pit. The wolf-boy’s eyelids fluttered weakly in response, and Cameron let out a long breath. “I’ve got you, mate – I’ve got you.” Suddenly, he found himself supporting the full load of a semi-conscious Morgan. “Why do you weigh so much?”

He shouted up to Eve, “He’s free! It’s ok! Watch out, I’m sending him back –” He pushed, propelling Morgan through the rungs, to the relative safety of the gallery floor.

“You – have – achieved – nothing.” Watt’s eye was dimming, his voice slurring and winding down.

“Oh yeah?” Cameron brushed his hands on his jeans. “I put a stop to you. That’s something.”

“In – destruction – I am – complete. As – my – motor – enters – its – last – cycle, the – engine –”

The rhythmic wheeze of Watt’s mechanism stuttered, and the smoke in the pit began to thin and clear. As his final gasp faded and his eye-light went dark, a deeper rumble was heard. Heavy bass notes vibrated the bones in Cameron’s chest, and the ground beneath him seemed to tremble in sympathy.

The World Engine was coming to life…

Hurriedly, Cameron leapt and grabbed the base of the railings, his trainers scuffing against the brick wall of the inspection pit as he scrambled his way out. “Watt’s been shut down – no reboot for him – but we’ve got bigger problems…”

Eve was strangely quiet, he thought, as he levered himself out between the rungs. He registered Morgan: propped up, back against a control panel, his eyes half-open and dazed. Eve stood by him, her arms pressed tight to her sides, her face an ashen white. Cameron started to ask if they were all right – then a sickly smell of sugary mushrooms flooded his senses, and a damp hand took hold of the scruff of his neck.

“How kind of you to help us. These ancient mechanisms can be so hard to get going, but you’ve given us a kick start.” Mr Grey hauled a struggling Cameron to his feet. “Now, be reasonable… Even a headstrong whelp like you must recognise when he is outnumbered.”

His podgy arm gestured to the hall. Lumbering out of the shadows came eight of Grey’s half-formed clones. At the head of the formation strode a smart-suited figure: Dr Black, a smile upon his thin face. The squad of Grey men took up positions around the engine. Two staggered over to guard Eve and Morgan, their distorted features leering.

“Any wolfish outbursts, and your friends will suffer,” Grey purred in Cameron’s ear. “I have merely to think the command, and they will be
ended
. Snuffed out! Do you understand?”

Cameron eyed the lurching, shambling blob-men with disgust. “Someone call Egyptology, I think there’s been a break out. It’s like Attack of the Zombie Mummies
in here.” He shot a look of pure hatred at Dr Black. “Complete with mad Professor.”

“It’s too late for jokes, Cam,” Eve whispered. She bit her lip.

“Don’t say that. It’s never too late to laugh at people like him –”

“I will have respect, sir!” Grey shook Cameron hard by the collar. Cameron aimed a retaliatory elbow at Grey’s ribs, but the momentum of the jab was lost within the folds of Grey’s skin. It was like trying to punch a sack of dough.

“The girl’s right. It’s time for this childish interference to end.” Dr Black moved to the control panel of the World Engine and studied the rows of twitching dials with
satisfaction
. “You caused Professor Babbage to have a seizure, did you know that?”

“Good,” said Eve. “Nasty old man.”

“I would worry how my reputation might be affected by your little vanishing act, but by the end of the evening I think the conference will have other concerns…” Black delivered a sharp rap to a gauge. The indicator needle within was progressing towards the end of a green zone. His look of satisfaction increased. “Pressure building nicely. Soon I’ll be able to engage the dimensional compressor.” He depressed a lever, and the twin globes at the ends of the World Engine’s arms began to revolve. The bass rumble increased in intensity.

“I don’t get why you’re doing this,” Cameron said through gritted teeth. “What’s the purpose? Why wipe out the Parallel?”

“It stands in my way. It was never meant to exist.”

“But what you’re attempting is crazy dangerous –
don’t you see? Even Mitchell and Astredo – two of the greatest mages ever – couldn’t entirely split the worlds. What makes you think this overgrown steam train can do it?”

Dr Black froze at the controls. His back twitched. “Did I hear you correctly? Is that what you believe is happening? That I’m attempting to complete the World Split?”

“Why do you think we’re fighting? If this heap of junk – this doomsday machine – goes wrong, who knows what’ll happen! The Parallel’s a fault line: damage it and you could destroy everything – the Human and the Daemon Worlds as well!”

Dr Black turned round and laughed. “‘Doomsday machine’ is apt, but the rest of what you say is quite wrong.” He gestured proudly to the Engine. “Do you realise who designed this?”

“The Makaris, but –”

“And who were they, and what happened to them? Come on, answer the question.” Dr Black’s tone was condescending, like a teacher who believed an otherwise bright pupil was somehow failing him.

“A clan of daemons that lived off human life energy.” Cameron glowered. “They died because the World Split locked them to Daemonic, and they couldn’t reach any more people to feed off, but –”

“Precisely.” Black held up a finger. “That was their doomsday – and this machine was the solution! The World Engine was a last desperate attempt to reverse the damage caused by Mitchell and Astredo’s failed experiment. The last Makaris starved before it could be completed. But I – Dr Black – have recovered it,
reconstructed it, and now it shall be set in motion…”

Black threw a series of switches with all the swagger of a concert pianist approaching the final triumphant moments of his performance. A thud shook the gallery, and the arms of the machine juddered. The giant wheel of the Engine began to rotate, spinning with increasing speed.

“In operation, the World Engine has an elegant simplicity.” Black spoke over the rising machine tone, gesturing to a point high above them on the ceiling. “As the twin globes rise and approach their apogee, Parallel matter is simultaneously compressed and destroyed. At the point when the two globes meet, the World Split will be over.”

“
Over?
Hold on… You’re telling me… We’ve got it backwards?” Cameron felt weak inside, as if he would’ve fallen had Grey’s clammy fingers not been holding him up. “You’re not trying to separate the worlds, to finish the World Split –
you’re bringing them back together?
”

“Of course.” Black was exultant. “After three hundred years, the natural order of things will be restored.”

“But you can’t! It’d be suicide!”

“It is science.”

“Don’t you realise what’ll happen? All the mythical creatures that used to cross over into the Human World – all the old daemons and monsters that once preyed on mankind – they’ll all come back! The bottleneck of the Parallel is all that’s holding them – and you’re destroying it.
You’re opening the floodgates
!”

“Not my concern,” said Black mildly.

“It’ll cause chaos!” said Cameron. “Human life as we know it will be over!”

“He’s right!” Eve interjected, wrestling with the Grey who restrained her. “The Human World isn’t ready for daemons any more.”

“I’m putting things back as they should be. I can’t help any minor supernatural side-effects.”

“But why?” Cameron yelled. Far above him, on the roof of the gallery, heavy raindrops began to batter at the panelling. The crash of an approaching storm joined in with the rising pitch of the World Engine.

“To prove myself right, of course! Why else?” Black snarled, throwing home the final lever on the control panel. Cogs meshed with a crunch, and the giant wheel’s motion was transferred to drive the mechanism. Creaking and groaning, the beams carrying the Human and Daemon globes began to rise, like hands of a clock slowly creeping to midnight. Simultaneously, the top plate of the central chamber began to descend, inch by inch, pressing down upon its dark contents.

As the Parallel matter inside thrashed and twisted, Cameron screamed – a hoarse yell of anger and pain. In his mind, his cry mingled with the howl of the wolf…

“Oh, and there was one more reason. A goal of mine. What was it, Mr Grey?” Black paused, looking momentarily confused. Then Grey’s voice spoke – as moist and sickening as an over-rich plum pudding – and Dr Black’s lips joined in, in perfect synchronisation: “Why, to
expand
…”

“He’s cracked,” Morgan said hoarsely. He groaned and rubbed his face, like he was coming back to his senses at last. He tried to drag himself to his feet, but a blob-man grabbed him and shoved him roughly back down. “No one sane could start this.”

“Funny you should say that, werewolf,” said Black. “Do you know what began my quest – the single event that set me on the path to greatness?”

“You were dropped on your head? Repeatedly?”

Dr Black hunkered down before Morgan. He held his face inches away from the teenager’s, meeting his defiant stare. “I saw a boy turn into a wolf-cub…”