The Children Of The Mist (15 page)

He stilled his struggles. ‘Knife, jeans back pocket.'

For a moment Morven hesitated. It was silly, but she felt a bit…self-conscious. It didn't seem right to be putting hands in his pockets. It was uncomfortably close to his butt.

Zest growled softly. ‘Morven, hurry up.'

Grateful for the dark that covered her blushes, Morven wiggled a hand through the net and groped around Zest's thigh. The soft fur covered a limb that was hard as steel. She tried not to think as her hand slid over his buttock and into the pocket. Thankfully it was the right one. With a firm grip she pulled the blade out. It took several seconds of concerted effort but finally the nylon web fell away. Zest surged to his feet. Morven looked at him, strangely shy. For although he was Zest, he was also something else.

In the moonlight he was massive. His dark coat was glossy and sleek. But not long enough to cover the long, pointed ears, tipped with soft red fur, like a lynx. His green eyes glowed like two gems from the black furry face. Huge teeth gleamed softly. Powerful shoulders rippled beneath the ragged remains of his shirt. His fingernails were gone, replaced by claws that were seriously wicked.

And then his lips drew back in a snarl…no…no….it was a very toothsome smile. And then she could see him. Zest. Underneath that furry pelt he was just Zest.

She grinned back. ‘Woof? Woof?' she said

Deep in his chest a chuckle rumbled like thunder. He threw back his head and let out a blood-curdling howl. Dog, not to be outdone, joined in. The sound echoed back, as in the distance the wild dogs responded in kind. Silence descended, only broken by the rustle of gumleaves in the wind. A bat flittered by. Dog barked; two short, sharp exclamations.

Zest looked sharply to the south. ‘You're right, Dog, time to go,' he said in a voice several octaves deeper than normal. He leant over the dead soldier, confiscated his gun and slipped it into the waistband of his pants. ‘Morven, you alright?'

She opened her mouth to make an affirmative but was distracted as she felt an odd sensation in her abdomen. A tickly, fizzy kind of feeling. A little tentatively she lifted up the hem of her shirt. Something fell with a soft plink onto her bare foot. It was a bullet. There was a red, puckered wound almost at dead centre of her abdomen. It didn't hurt and it wasn't bleeding. Even as she watched, the flesh began to lose its angry appearance. Very handy. She picked up the bullet, looked at it and then at Zest. ‘I've never been better,' she said honestly.

And then, unable to find the right words, she walked swiftly up to him, put her arms around his neck and sprang up. He caught her and briefly pulled her to his chest. He smelled good. Like a forest. And aniseed. Without thinking she stretched up slightly and brushed the tip of her nose over his. He closed his eyes for a second and she could feel the muscles in his torso tense. Her arms tightened around his neck for a fraction of a second and then she pushed herself away and slid back to earth.

Embarrassed, but secretly delighted, she felt a burst of energy course through her body. Without a second glance she stepped over the dead soldier. The remorse she'd half anticipated failed to materialise. That'd teach the mortal to mess with her man. Voices rang out afresh. Sirens screamed. Dog was right. It was time to go.

As they sped westward and slipped thankfully into the shelter of the forest, Morven allowed herself to compute this latest and greatest shockwave. The incredible reality of Zest. Not like her. Not vampyre at all, but werewolf. Werewolf! Holy crap.

This, she thought happily, was really, truly, living in the fast lane. She was not bored at all.

They travelled swiftly through the bush. Dog bounded around playing and yipping at Zest's heels. Morven allowed Zest to take the lead. Screened by the leafy canopy above, the forest was dim but to her delight she could see as if it were full daylight. Maybe better. And she became aware that the landscape teemed with life, formerly invisible to her. She could hear an echidna digging up a rotten stump. Above, possums peered down, eyes wide with curiosity and fear. Tiny feet scampered in the bracken fern. An owl took off on whispering wings. Just in the periphery of her sight she caught the fleeting glance of a deer as it bounded for cover. Its scent made her nose quiver. And she felt alive.

When Zest finally came to a stop they were high on top of a flat tor of mountain. In the distance, lights dotted the dark landscape. Twin lights travelled fast along a road that threaded through the trees. For a long, drawn-out moment, neither of them spoke. Dog panted softly at Zest's heels. Morven watched one huge hand press briefly on the Belgian shepherd's head as she struggled to find something appropriate to say. It wasn't easy.

It was Zest who broke the silence. ‘So…' he said.

Morven looked up into his face, her eyes transfixed by his altered appearance. She felt that even if she looked at him for hours, she would never get enough. She smiled. ‘So…you're a werewolf.'

The green eyes peeled away and looked skyward at the moon. ‘I am werewolf,' he said. And then he threw back his head and let out a deep howl. He stopped and looked at her. He grinned that toothy grin. ‘I am werewolf,' he said. ‘And loving it.'

And she knew he spoke the truth. For she could sense in him something akin to the incredulous, effervescent joy that gripped her. She shook her head in wonder. ‘Oh my God! We are soooo bad ass. We're, like — Batgirl and Wolfboy!'

The green eyes darkened for a moment as Zest snarled.

She jumped in alarm and took a hasty step back.

‘Wolf MAN!' he rumbled.

She glared at him. ‘Jeez, Zest, keep your hair on. No need to get all…fired up.' She looked away for a moment to hide a sly smile. ‘You know, I'd hate to have to put you in your place and kick your butt.'

It took a moment before she realised that the choking sound emitting from his mouth was just indignation. Finally he managed to formulate his thoughts into actual words. He licked his lips. His tongue was very pink. ‘Kick my butt! Kick Wolfman's butt. You! Battygirl. Oh,
please
.'

The play on words really ticked Morven off. It was just so typically male to assume that he was stronger, tougher, better. Just typical. ‘I could so kick your butt.'

‘Hah! Fat chance.' To reinforce the fact he flexed one huge hairy bicep.

She was really pissed now. ‘Arm wrestle,' she said through tight lips.

Zest made a small yip of laughter. ‘Delighted.'

They settled down onto the soft, short grass. Face to face. Morven flexed her hands and leaned in.

Zest met her half way. ‘Elbows on the ground at all times. No pinching.' His paw closed around her hand, which looked miniscule by comparison.

Morven nodded and settled her elbow into the earth.

‘Count of three?' said Zest.

Again she nodded.

‘One…two…three.'

Morven gasped at the phenomenal strength pitted against her. But she gritted her teeth and halted the assault. She wasn't absolutely sure, but she thought she saw a flicker of unease on her furry friend's face. Either way, she gained confidence. It wasn't over yet. This one was for girls and vampyres everywhere. Losing was not an option. She decided that the best bet was just to go for it. One mighty effort. She sensed that while they may be evenly matched in strength, she would tire more quickly.

Even as the thoughts formed in her head, Zest came back for a second try. His hand gripped tighter and he growled softly. Morven took in a deep breath and countered the offence. This time he wasn't so quick to back off. She could feel one cold bead of sweat tickle as it trickled down her back. But she was holding her own. After 30 seconds Zest shifted his weight a fraction and she felt a buzz of excitement. Not so tough after all! Time to go in for the kill.

She visualised it in her head. A great surge of energy rushing to her arm muscles and tendons. One great push. And victory. Her body obeyed, pumping out its uniquely coded chemical cocktail. Confident now, she gave it all she had. She opened her mouth in a silent scream of determination and pushed. Zest gasped and bent into the weight. The muscles beneath his black pelt swelled and strained. Her breath came fast and furious. And then he gave. Not much. A millimetre. No more. A flame of triumph shot through Morven. More, she demanded. Another rush surged through. With eyes locked on his, she pressed harder. And harder.

And then Zest chuckled. ‘Is this going to take long?'

Her eyes narrowed as she glared over at him. She didn't have the energy to comment. And then her heart missed a beat. Slowly, irrevocably, her arm rotated back. Centimetre by centimetre Zest beat her down and she realised he'd just been playing with her. Furiously she struggled to hold off the inevitable. It was nearly over. The back of her hand a whisker away from defeat. Still she fought on. And then the landscape dimmed as the moon sailed behind a heavy black cloud. It was Morven's turn to smile as she felt Zest falter. The grip of his giant paw relaxed as he looked skyward. Morven seized the moment. In one smooth arcing action she reversed the situation and pinned Zests arm to the ground. ‘I win! I win!' she shouted gleefully.

The green eyes flew back to witness his defeat. ‘That's not fair,' he said. ‘You — ‘

But the sentence was never finished. Morven watched on, utterly absorbed as Zest snarled and snatched away his fist. He stood and howled, a long mournful cry that inexplicably filled Morven with sadness. He slowly curled over as if he were being bent by invisible arms. For a moment he was still. Then he rolled into a tight ball and jerked and spasmed with such violence that Morven feared for him. The black fur fell away and his body seemed to deflate. And then he was still again. Only the concertina of his ribs falling and rising indicated that he was still alive. A violent shiver ran down his body and he leapt abruptly to his feet. He shook himself like a wet dog and fur flew in every direction. And the Wolfman was gone.

Zest blew a fur ball out of his mouth and pointed at Morven. ‘You cheated!'

Morven bristled like a cross cat. ‘I did not.'

‘You only beat me because I transformed.'

Morven shook her head. ‘Elbows on the ground and no pinching. That's the rules. The rules that you laid down. I don't remember any mention about transforming.'

Zest looked nonplussed for a moment. ‘But you'd never have won if that hadn't happened,' he protested.

While his statement rang bells of truth in Morven's head, she had no intention of conceding the fact. After all, his lack of self-control wasn't her problem. And didn't it just go to prove that, in the end, Vampyre was best? She lifted an eyebrow. ‘I guess you just have to accept that I was the better — ‘ She stopped. Momentarily stymied. The best what? Scary something? Monster? Supernatural thingy? ‘The better person on the day,' she ended feebly.

Zest grinned. ‘Person?'

Morven sniffed. ‘Whatever.'

Zest covered the ground between them with silent, stealthy footsteps. Even though he had lost the wolf persona, he was still different. Bigger than normal. Ears still pointed and his teeth unnaturally large. But definitely more human.

Morven eyed off his ragged outfit. ‘Zest, you're gonna need a change of clothes.' He looked down at himself but made no comment. Morven sensed he was preoccupied. There was an air of worry about him. He lifted his arm and then dropped it. ‘Lost my watch. What time is it?'

Morven checked hers. ‘It's almost four o'clock.'

The anxious expression on Zest's face deepened. ‘Morven, we gotta get going.'

Morven frowned. ‘Why?'

‘It's midsummer. The sun will soon be up.'

It took a second before she got it. What a doofus. Of course, she was Vampyre and she had to be in her bat cave before the sun broke the back of the mountain. Weird. Seriously sci-fi wack-a-doo. A cold ripple of apprehension shivered down her spine. Finally, it all sank in. And she realised then that nothing was ever going to be the same.

Zest watched Morven tremble. She looked as fragile as a sapling in a storm. He knew that feeling only too well. For seventeen years life had shivered down his spine. He'd been haunted by uncertainty for so long that it had become a familiar. His heart squeezed in sympathy for her and he wished he could offer some comfort. But he could think of nothing that could bridge the gap that had opened up inside her. In the end he reached out and tentatively took one slender, pale hand.

‘Come on,' he said.

She looked up at him then, her dark eyes swimming with unshed tears. ‘Why didn't they tell me?'

He knew who she meant, of course. Her parents. ‘I don't know. I'm sure they had good reason though. They really love you.' Like I do, he thought.

She gave a watery smile and squeezed his fingers. ‘I know,' she said. ‘We'd better go find out.' Then she looked around the mountain top. ‘Where's Dog?'

Zest put two fingers to his lips and let out a long shrill whistle. Seconds later Dog came bounding out of the undergrowth. He trotted over and licked his hand.

Morven bent down and gave Dog a hug. She looked up, her expression questioning. ‘Zest, what's with Dog?' She ran a hand over Dog's thick, black coat. ‘He's…I don't know…different.'

Zest grinned. ‘Well, if Dog's gonna run with this pack, he's got to keep up.'

Morven nodded. ‘So?'

‘Well, let's just say I gave him an itsy blood transfusion.'

Morven's mouth opened like a fly trap. ‘You didn't!'

‘I did.'

‘So, what is he then?'

Zest looked at Dog. To be honest, he hadn't really thought about it. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time. ‘What are you, Dog?'

Dog sank down, rolled onto his back and waved his long legs in the air.