Werewolf Parallel (3 page)

BY THE ORDER OF JANUS.”

“Janus!” Morgan whistled. “That’s a pretty classy ward. He’s
only
the Ancient Roman God of Entrances and Exits.”

“Do you know him?” said Cameron.

“By reputation. He’s got a bit of a connection to the pack. I might be able to lean on it. No promises.”

“Do we need to go to
Rome
to get the wards fixed, and make us safe?” Eve was full of enthusiasm. “The only thing I ever liked about Mrs Ferguson was she used to play opera. I’ve always wanted to see Italy…”

“Nah, you’re all right. No opera necessary,” said Morgan. “We can catch Janus here in Edinburgh. On the Parallel.”

“What’s he doing there?” Cameron laughed and
held up a hand. “No, don’t tell me. It wouldn’t be the strangest –”

“Oh, don’t be dull, Cameron,” Eve interjected. “The Romans got everywhere. It’ll make an interesting trip.”

“Hold up.” Morgan gave Eve a hard look. “Who said you get to come? There’s no guarantee Janus’ll help. He’s meant to be a right Roman pain in the –”

“I am
so
coming. You just try and stop me.” Eve’s eyes gleamed, and she took herself on a little dance, jumping from beam to beam. “And I know how to tackle the Court of the Parallel too – I’m the only one who does – but I’m not going to tell you how until
after
we’ve been.”

Cameron and Morgan exchanged looks.

“You’d better say yes, mate.” Morgan cast a wary glance at Eve’s clodhopping footsteps. “If she carries on like that she’ll have half the ceilings down.”

Cameron sighed. “You realise this is blackmail, right?”

“Is it?” said Eve. “How sweet of you to notice.”

The Parallel ran through the world like a geological seam – at least that’s how Cameron always imagined it – a deposit of myth and madness and monsters, drawn in from the bordering Human and Daemon realms.

He remembered the first time he’d heard about it, late one night in the kitchen on Observatory Row, not long after he’d moved in. The loss of his father had been recent, and he’d felt very raw and empty. His gran had seen that emptiness, and for reasons of her own, offered up the story of the Parallel.

She had told him about the mages Mitchell and Astredo, and their bold plan to separate the Human and Daemon worlds. She told him how the plan had gone wrong, creating an inter-world gap instead. In time, the gap became the Parallel, and the descendents of Mitchell and Astredo’s covens found themselves drawn back to it, and able to use it for their own ends. They alone could travel into the Parallel, and between the worlds.

“People like you and me, Cameron,” Gran had calmly revealed, changing his life forever.

He’d hardly dared believe her, but with typical ruthless efficiency she had soon found a way to catapult him in.
It wasn’t long before he was world-shifting: slipping from the Human world to the Parallel and back again, swift as a thought. All he had to do was concentrate on a certain tune – hear it in his mind – and reality about him would change.

Everyone with the Inheritance had their own way of finding and accessing the Parallel: it came from inside, from who they were. His gran had heard music too, although her tune had been as complicated and twisted as she was. Cameron’s song was direct: it strummed and surged its way forward, like a joyous riff on a guitar.

Basically, it
rocked
.

And now he was going to share the Parallel with Eve. He knew she had gone through a lot with Mrs Ferguson – things she wouldn’t talk about even now – but in an odd way, the evil old Weaver had protected her as well. None of the daemons that came seeking favours from her mistress would ever have dared harm Eve, for fear of reprisal. Out on the Parallel now, though, all bets would be off…

Cameron hoped she was ready.

“This used to be a railway. They shut it down, the weeds grew over the tracks and it went wild. Got turned into cycle paths eventually.” Cameron looked up from his map. “I
think
this is the right junction.”

“Foxes and badgers running along lines instead of trains… imagine that.” Eve seemed wistful for a second, then she shuffled her feet on the frosty ground.

They were in a raised-up area by a red sandstone wall. A line of benches was arranged around a dilapidated stone block salvaged from a fountain. An inscription
round its base read:

Below them, the cycle path ran in a straight line between high banks covered in grass and trees. Cradled in an enclosure of vegetation, they were just a short distance from the bustle of the city, but it felt like they were miles away.

“So why here for a God of Entrances and Exits?”

“Morgan said Janus was a God of Journeys too, so I guess an old railway line fits. There’s always some kind of link between the Human World and the Parallel.”

“Doors
and
journeys. Of course,” Eve said tartly. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You start a journey by going through a door, so it’s not totally mad.”

Eve pulled a face. “Anything else? God of Jam, perhaps? God of Thursdays? Or would that be too obvious?”

“He’s a God of January.”

“Well, that at least figures.” Eve banged her hands together against the cold. “Whoever he is, I hope he can fix the wards so we can get through a night without unexpected daemons popping in…”

“Worried about missing your beauty sleep?”

“Hardly. I think that’s more your concern.” Eve arched an eyebrow. “Your need is greater.”

“You wound me,” said Cameron, patting his chest. “Wards first, so we’ve got a secure base to work from, yeah? Then we can see about tackling Grey and keeping hold of the shop… Any chance you might share your
cunning plan for the Court?

“I’m a Girl of Mystery. I shall choose the right moment. Which is not yet.”

He stole a glance at her. Even after a year, her ‘new’ appearance sometimes surprised him: a tall, slender woman with long black hair, not exactly pretty, but with a strong, animated face. She looked like she was in her late teens or maybe early twenties, even though he knew the spiky personality inside was a good deal younger. When she had first come to stay at Observatory Row she’d had almost nothing, and had been forced to rummage about in Grandma Ives’ stuff for things to wear. She’d looked kind of mad, dressed up in a ragbag of clothes…
but maybe not so much now
.

He frowned. Actually, she looked all right. When had that happened?

“Nice, um, jacket,” he said cautiously. “It suits you.”

“Thanks. I’ve had it for months.” She sighed. “You really are a
boy
, aren’t you?”

Cameron blinked. “Last time I checked. I was only trying to be nice.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Where’s Morgan got to?”

“He had to fetch something. Something he said might be useful. He said he’d meet us by the fountain.”

“Well, you may have to use a pick and chip me from the ground, for I shall shortly become a block of ice.”

“Nah. I thought I’d leave you here, to puzzle future archaeologists.” He studied her face for a hint of a smile. “You can always go back to the shop.”

“With that grey lump stuck to the counter? No fear.” Eve grimaced. “I said I wanted to come, didn’t I?”

“You made a strong case for it.” A thought struck Cameron. “Eve, are you ok? About world-shifting, I mean? It’s just if you need –”

“Look out!”
Her arm snaked out and shoved him into a bush, just as a motorcycle roared from the path in a blur of chrome. It sped past, circled twice around the fountain, and came skidding to a halt.

“Woo-hoo!” A familiar long-haired figure staggered off the rear of the passenger seat, shook out his greatcoat and gave the driver a hearty slap on the back. “That bike is
made
of win.”

Cameron pulled himself to his feet, spitting dried leaves from his mouth. “Yes, thanks for almost squashing us.”

“People should watch where they’re going.” The driver flipped his visor, revealing a hard, blunt-featured face that glared a challenge. “Little wolf cubs should too.”

Cameron bristled, and the muscles in his chest tightened. “Oh yeah? You shouldn’t even be riding that thing. This isn’t a road.”

There was a moment of silence broken only by the purr of the bike’s engine. Morgan shot a glance from his friend to the biker and back again.

“Cycle path, isn’t it?” the biker said. “This is a cycle. So it’s allowed.”

“But strangely it doesn’t say ‘idiot path’, does it?” Eve crossed her arms and stepped neatly between the biker and Cameron. “And yet here you are.”

Within his helmet slit, the biker’s eyes narrowed, as if he suspected he’d been insulted but couldn’t quite work out how.

“Anyway…” said Morgan in a placatory tone, “Ta for the lift, Grant. It’s appreciated.”

There was another pause and Grant the biker grunted. He pointed a leather-gauntleted finger at Morgan. “I know my duty. You should think about yours, once in a while. And you–” The finger swung to target Cameron. “I reckon I’ll be seeing you around, cub.”

The visor snapped down, the engine revved and the bike sped off, heading away from the path and into town.

Eve waved a hand in front of her face, clearing away the exhaust fumes. She coughed. “Who is your delightful friend?”

“Why? Fancy a date?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Nah, didn’t think so.” Morgan gave Eve his broadest grin. “He’s just a dog from the pack. No one special.”

Cameron had so far had little to do with other werewolves, apart from Morgan. While his friend was 100 per cent pure Were, born to the pack, Cameron’s own wolf-side was the result of a desperate gamble. In the life or death struggle that had dispatched his gran he had survived only by begging Morgan to bite him, and so pass the wolf-power on. Cameron knew the pack took a dim view of humans who were recruited this way, believing they were a liability because they so rarely managed to master their baser wolfish urges. In fact, the pack didn’t approve of
anything
that might call attention to the existence of Were-kind in the human world.

For the past year, while coming to terms with his new powers, his strategy had been to keep his head down and try to avoid being noticed. But Grant the biker dog had seen through that – he’d sensed what Cameron was
at once.

“I thought you didn’t bother with those losers anymore?” He shot Morgan an irritated glance. “Why were you hanging out with him? And how did he mean, ‘duty’?”

“Needs must. Got to show my muzzle now and again. Especially if I want a favour.” Morgan yanked up his socks and tightened his bootlaces. “Look at me! I’m all shook up, thanks to that bone-rattler.”

“Rattler! You said it was great a second ago.”

“Got me here quicker, didn’t it?” The wolf-boy straightened up. “Right, shall we do this?”

Cameron nodded. “I’m ready if you are.”

“I’ve been ready
ages
.” Eve closed her eyes, and tapped her foot, her lips moving slowly.

Interesting
, thought Cameron,
she hears music too
. His own hand was moving by his side, searching for chords on the fretboard of an imaginary guitar. The song of the Parallel rocked through his mind.

Morgan lifted his nose and scented. “Ah… can’t miss that Parallel smell of magic and monsters –”

Reality changed, as they shifted through.

The fountain swivelled, the crumbling sandstone blocks becoming whole as the missing sections corkscrewed out of the ground. The lettering on the side expanded, new words searing themselves into the stone with a flourish

as a jet of clear liquid spouted from the top.

On the path, the vegetation shrank back and the concrete vanished. The ground trembled and split as railway tracks rose out of it, like dinosaur ribs being pushed to the surface. A building assembled in a flurry of bricks: a stationhouse with a peaked roof and a sign that read:

Above the doorway, a disc-shaped logo showed a two-faced man in silhouette.

A railway on the Parallel!
Cameron grinned, unable to help himself. There was always something new and different to discover. That was why he loved being able to world-shift.

Eve looked pleased too, and ran over to investigate the station. He opened his mouth to call out, but as the Parallel stabilized and the song faded in his mind, he heard the eerie howl of a wolf.

He whipped round, scanning the landscape – the smart station, the gleaming tracks, the shrubs around the fountain. He could spot no one apart from his friends.

“What’s up, mate?” Morgan was alert and by his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you hear it? A wolf howl?”

Morgan shook his head. “Not a hoot.”

“But you must’ve! Have you gone deaf?”

Morgan studied Cameron with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Then he sighed. “You’re kind of snappy today, Shorty. You need to take a few deep breaths, get
a grip –”

“I’m fine, I’m in control –”

A vision flashed into his head, of a wolf-claw slicing across bedroom curtains
… Cameron glanced at his hands, but they were – of course – completely normal and human. His shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I’m imagining things. Must be. I’m probably still a bit worked-up after your biker friend –”

“Forget it. Grant’s a moron.”

“A big moron.”

“Alarmingly big. Like a mountain. You should pick your fights a bit better.” Morgan looked away, then added in an undertone, “Cool bike though.”

“
Knew
you liked it.”

“Bikes are boring!” Eve announced from the station entrance. “Come and look at this!”

The platform beyond was well kept, with a bench and row of plants. A steam engine in red and gold livery stood waiting, the logo of a two-faced man embossed upon its side, and the door to its rear carriage ajar.

Lying across the path to the train was a marble statue of a sleeping lion, its chipped muzzle pressed flat to the tops of its paws. A peaked stationmaster’s cap rested at a jaunty angle on its head.

“Daft place for a statue.” Eve reached for the cap. “I wonder who put it there?”

“I wouldn’t touch that,” Cameron cautioned, stepping over the paws of the beast. “Not until we know how this place works. We might have to barter for entrance or something –”

“Oh nonsense. It’s just a hat on a stone cat. There’s no one about.” She popped the cap on her head, crossed
to the open carriage door, and struck a pose. “Would you care to board? First, second and third class tickets are available…” She raised an eyebrow in Morgan’s direction. “Some of us may have to travel in the guard’s van.”

There was a grating sound like something heavy being dragged, and a smell of fresh chalk dust. Below Cameron’s feet, the shape of the shadows changed, as if a very large object was now blocking the light. He turned around.

The statue was standing up.

It shook its mane, with a noise like a load of paving slabs being crashed together. Even in motion its flesh had a marbled quality: muscles standing out in stony rivulets along its flanks.

“This is
my
station.” The creature prowled forward, its joints grinding, forcing the trio to scatter. “I decide who boards.”

Eve squeaked. “I didn’t realise you were alive! I meant no harm.” She snatched the hat off her head and held it out. “Nice… kitty?”

“
Lion
is the word you are searching for,” said the creature. Flecks of gold quartz flashed in its eyes. “And I’m not sure I am nice. Now, if you’d all be good enough to stand still, I can decide what order to eat you in.” Its jaws opened and a collection of tiny hard spherical objects rattled to the ground and rolled away across the platform.