CHAPTER Three
It took me an hour or two to travel across the city via the Underground to where Wold’s shop was located. I garnered more than a few odd looks, no doubt as a direct result of the large bruise that was beginning to throb across my cheek. My eye was continuing to swell up to the point where my vision was becoming limited. I’d have to hope that the loss of my periphery focus wouldn’t allow anyone – or anything – untoward get the jump on me. At one point, a kindly looking woman, with laughter lines at the edges of her eyes which masked a deep pain from within, handed me a card for a women’s shelter.
“It’s never too late to ask for help,” she said softly.
I just smiled slightly and said thank you. Getting into an explanation with a complete stranger about how I really had walked into a door seemed far too ridiculous, even for me. I hoped the bruising would subside enough before I had to venture back to Alcazon to meet the council again, or indeed any other Otherworlders. The last thing I needed was for my badass reputation to become even more inflated. I was aware the result would probably just be a bunch of irritating challengers trying to take me on to prove their own prowess. That was indeed a hassle I could do without.
I did need to contact the council about the money to procure enough palladium to create an arsenal of devastating weaponry, however. A carefully worded email would probably do the trick. That way I wouldn’t have to bother talking to any of them. I didn’t think my head could cope with the onslaught of their complaints again today. Deciding that I’d sort out that little problem once I finally got home again, I focused on the matter in hand: getting the Batibat onside to help me with locating Endor. The success Alex had had with her the previous week seemed to suggest that he would be a good person to include so, as soon as I’d hopped off the train, I cast around for a phone. I really needed to get myself a bloody mobile.
Eventually finding a familiarly red phone box just outside the station gates, I dug inside my pocket for some change and inserted it into the machine. The customary beat of the Beach Boys thrummed from across the line, then the phone clicked into voicemail.
“Hey dude. I’m not available to take your call right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you before the surf is up.”
Rolling my eyes, I left a quick message. “Alex, it’s Mack. I need you to meet me at the Batibat’s shop as soon as you can. Definitely sooner rather than later. I need to talk to her again about Endor and your expertise would be appreciated.”
I hung up. It was less his expertise than the fact he was an apparently virile young man that had probably made the Batibat spill her secrets to him. It didn’t really matter though. Anything extra I could glean from her about how to track down Endor would be good. And, let’s face it, the faster I found the freaky necromancing serial killer, the faster I could get my life back on track. Or rather get Corrigan to forgive me so we could pick up from where we left off.
I set off in the direction of the shop. Fortunately, the flyer that Balud had waved so unceremoniously in front of my face had included an address, and the borough of London had thought to helpfully provide maps next to the station entrances to help lost souls like me find our way around. Wold’s little empire was, naturally, down a quiet side street off the main tree-lined thoroughfare. The kind of quiet side street where creepy Otherworld nasties could hang around without fear of being bothered by pesky humans. As soon as I turned down into it, the distinct smell of rotting meat reached my nostrils and the shadows abruptly deepened. Jeez. It even appeared as if the sky had dramatically darkened, although I was sure that was just my own fanciful imagination.
“Bad guys ‘r’ us,” I muttered to myself, then halted suddenly in my steps as I caught sight of a figure leaning up against a wall further along. Interesting. Was this a waiting customer or a guard? Carefully, I reached behind me and pulled out my daggers from my back sheath, before concealing them in the folds of my sleeves. It didn’t hurt to be prepared.
I’d barely gone three more steps when the figure pushed off from the wall. The shadows still concealed their identity, but it was definitely someone male and large.
“Don’t come any closer,” a gruff voice called out.
The corners of my mouth lifted up. Excellent. Not a customer then, but someone who I could pump for information once I’d beaten the shit out of them. I’d been needing to release some tension all day long. It might even help get rid of my headache. Things were starting to look up.
I continued forward.
“You heard me,” growled the voice again. “Turn around and go back the way you came.”
Ooooh, scary. I tightened my grip on the daggers and shifted my weight as I carried on, my eyes gradually starting to adjust to the dim light. I wondered whether to see who it was first or just to let my silver fly and ask questions later. Prickles of heat danced merrily up and down my veins. It occurred to me that there was probably something wrong with me for being excited to see a bit of action. I shrugged inwardly. No-one’s perfect.
Unfortunately, at that moment, the figure took a step forward into a patch of dull sunlight and I registered who it was. It was just a f*cking shifter. Corrigan had probably sent him here to keep an eye on the shop. My good eye squinted at him. He looked like a wolf, all lean and muscly, but with a shaggy mane of hair on top of his head. I relaxed, although I was cursing slightly inside.
“It’s alright,” I shouted out, starting to re-sheathe my weapons. “It’s me. Er, Mack. Mack Smith. I’m here on official business.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you again. Turn around and go back. This area is off limits.”
My eyes narrowed. What the f*ck? I was the head of the sodding council investigating the Batibat’s boss. No, this area most definitely was not off limits. And I was certainly not a ‘ma’am’.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time,” I commented, aware that there was an edge of hot fury to my tone, “I’m Mack Smith. I have every right to be here. If you don’t believe me then call your f*cking boss and check.”
“I know who you are, Ms. Smith, and I have strict instructions not to let you come any closer.”
I stopped in mid-step, more out of shock than anything else. Seriously? I knew that Corrigan was beyond pissed off with me, but he couldn’t stop me from doing my job. Who the hell did he think he was? I’d thought many things of the Lord Alpha in the past, but never that he was petty. And did he really believe that one pathetic wolf was going to make me turn around with my invisible dragon tail tucked between my legs? It looked like I was going to end up having a little fun after all.
I pulled out my daggers again, and began to move forward. “You’re going to want to get out of my way.”
“Ma’am…”
“Don’t call me that.”
I let one dagger fly, striking him in his shin. The werewolf screamed in agony and yanked at it, scrabbling at the hilt to pull it away from where it had embedded itself in his skin. To be fair, I hadn’t put much force behind the throw, and it was really only the very tip of the weapon that he was howling about. I didn’t actually want to hurt him badly; after all, he was only following orders – and stupid orders at that – and I knew silver was excruciatingly painful for shifters, even just to touch. But I also had a point to make to His High and Mightiness. Don’t get in my f*cking way.
I gently pried the dagger from the shifter’s fingers, and stepped over his writhing body. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Take it up with your boss.”
Leaving him there, I returned both weapons to the halter at my back, and walked over to the shop’s entrance, trying to keep my senses as alert as possible. There was no way Corrigan was idiotic enough to think that one measly little teen wolf could stop me, whether he was a member of the big scary Brethren or not. There had to be more shifters around here somewhere, and I was damned if I was going to let any of them even begin to get the better of me. Studying the splintered wood where Wold’s front door had clearly been kicked in, I was starting to get an idea about where they actually were. And that made me royally pissed off.
I nudged the door open with the tip of my shoe, creating enough of a gap to slip through. Muffled angry voices floated over from deep within. Bingo. Taking care to stay as quiet as possible, so that I knew just exactly what I was dealing with, I edged forward. Despite the obvious signs of carnage that Corrigan’s minions had left in their wake, it was clear the Batibat kept a considerably tidier and cleaner shop than Balud. Of course, Balud didn’t live in daily fear of having his very life-force drained from him by a crazy necromancer. That in itself would probably provide incentive enough to do a daily dust.
The voices seemed to be coming from behind a half-open door at the far end of the corridor. I inched towards it, making sure I stayed planted against the far wall to avoid casting any telling shadows which might give my presence away before I wanted to advertise it. What I really wanted to know was what on earth Corrigan was actually up to. A few words were starting to drift over and it appeared that it was the shifters who were doing all the talking.
Moving close enough to catch more, I sidled up to the door, and cocked my head to the side to listen.
“You’re going to tell us everything you know sooner or later,” barked a steely voice.
Good grief. That line was straight out of a Hollywood movie. These guys weren’t exactly subtle.
“Except I don’t know anything.”
Figuring that had to be Wold herself, I twisted around to peer through the crack in the hinges. The Batibat was cowering in a chair, and there were three other figures – shifters – all standing around her. At that point one of them, who had his back to me, reached round and smacked her on the face.
“Listen up, you ugly bitch. You’re going to tell us where your slimy boss is cowering and you’re going to do it now.”
I recoiled. Brute sexist intimidation. Why they thought that would be successful in getting information, which the bloody Batibat probably didn’t know in the first place, was beyond me. A tendril of bloodfire reached up and squeezed its way round my heart. Maybe Corrigan wasn’t quite as nice and balanced as I’d come to think after all. Regardless, there was no way I was going to let this continue on any longer.
I thumped loudly on the wall, causing all four of them to jump, and then stepped out and slammed the door fully open with a sharp crack. The three shifters were already taking up attack positions, teeth bared. Wold, whose resemblance to the Haughmond Hill Batibat was really quite remarkable, was leaning back in her chair, eyes wide, as if in a bid to get herself as far away from this new threat as possible.
“He said she might show up,” growled the shifter to the right.
“Well, I guess he was f*cking right,” I responded, then leapt up and scissor-kicked the offending shifter in the chest, knocking him backwards and onto the floor. He groaned, tried once to get up, and then fell back down again, clutching his chest.
The familiar prickle across my fingertips alerted me to the return of my green fire. Smiling humourlessly, I shot out a stream to the one on the left who was already in mid-shift. It instantly lit up the fur that was beginning to appear across his skin, and he shrieked in horror, falling to the ground and twisting this way and that in a vain attempt to put out the flames. That just left the bully boy. He threw himself at me, apparently realising the space was too small, and the time too short, for him to shift into what would be his most effective attack form. It wouldn’t have mattered what he’d chosen to do, however. Using my energy in a manner that Thomas, my old teacher, would have been proud of, I simply pushed out my hand and grabbed him by the throat.
“That was almost disappointingly easy,” I commented, bringing his face close to mine. “Now tell me, what exactly are you trying to achieve by torturing one of Endor’s victims?”
He choked, eyes bulging. I shook him slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. You’ll need to speak up.”
A floorboard creaked behind me. Shit. There were more of them than I had thought. I was about to use my free hand to pull out one of the daggers again and throw it behind me when I heard a familiar, stomach churning voice speak up, dripping with hatred.
“Let go of my wolf, kitten.” There was a pause. “Now.”