BH Fanfic: And Then What? Ch 16-20 (rated 18+)

[Melissa Kane]

And Then What? Chapter Sixteen

Annie stood bathed in blue flashing lights – it was probably two hours since they saw the news and called Nina about it. Though it as dark, the police were still searching the woods for clues and working at keeping the public well away from the scene.

Right now, Mitchell and Nina were trying to negotiate a way into the forest with a policeman at the edge of the cordon. Everyone, human and non-human alike were miserably drenched with the light but persistent drizzle. It hadn't been hard to find the area where the body had been found in Cheddar Gorge – Annie followed the sound of the tormented soul. She was getting quite good at narrowing the field of her senses and tracing individual ghosts. And it seemed that it wasn't only the victims of vampire attacks who lingered after death. From her standpoint, she could hear Nina's desperate pleas as to whether this was the body of her missing boyfriend as Mitchell stood stoically beside her. The raw emotion in her voice was genuine and brought standing tears to Annie's eyes. The officer was meanwhile patiently telling her the body had been taken to the mortuary and had not yet been identified.

Annie caught Mitchell's eye, waiting long enough to wave and point before she turned from the scene. She still wasn't sure if she had willed herself to be invisible or whether she was again suffering a loss of solidity but the police hadn't challenged her or even acknowledged her presence. She wanted to think it was intentional and not part of that scary thing that happened the other night. She walked plainly into the forest, following the soft sound of the dead – a sound which she was unhappily becoming quite used to now. She hadn't walked far when her eyes lighted on him, a spirit curled up against a tree looking confused, lost and bloodied even in death.

“Hello?” She enquired, not wanting to startle him. The dead man looked up slowly. He was a craggy faced older man, probably in his late fifties. He would have been greying at the temples if they weren't so red right now. The suit he wore was torn in dozens of places – George had really done a number on this guy. “I'm sorry.” She wasn't sure what she was apologising for more, her interruption or the manner of his death. He stared, perhaps thinking she couldn't see him. “Mister? Can you hear me?” She asked.

He looked surprised. “Me?” He asked in a gravelly voice.

Annie smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, hi, I'm Annie. I'm a friend.”

The man looked her over as he stood up. “How did... what am I doing here? I was with my granddaughter at the hospital – she had an asthma attack you see – and then I...” His eyes widened. “That thing...” He gasped. Annie flinched as if hit. The wide eyes sought out hers. “What was that thing?!” He asked, deathly afraid.

Annie approached him. Gently, she put her hands on one of his arms. “You were,” She took a deep breath trying to find a delicate way of telling him, “I'm sorry, there's not an easy way to say this. You were killed by a werewolf.”

Two things happened. The ghost, overcome by the shock, sat down heavily, pulling Annie down beside him. As he did, he began shaking his head, denying what she told him. In his denial, he began to babble and grumble. “You're lying. That's impossible. There's no such thing. No such thing. Who are you? No, you're wrong I'm not dead. They just didn't see me, they just, they just, they...” His protestations faded as the knowledge that he really was dead sank in. Annie bit her lip as she remembered that it took her a while to realise she was in fact dead. “They really couldn't see me, could they?” He asked, that gravelly, manly voice now sounding so small and helpless.

Annie shook her head sympathetically. “No, no they couldn't. The living don't normally see us.”

“Us? So you're dead too?”

“Yeah. Three years ago, now. But its not the end, you know. Its just – different.” She tried to be encouraging. “So, what's your name?”

He thought for a moment, still contemplating his death. “Clive.” He replied at length. “Was it really a... a werewolf?” Clive asked.

“I'm afraid so.” She pointed to the long and clean and slightly uneven three and four-clawed wounds covering his chest and stomach. It was with a measure of disgust she could see some internal organs protruding. There was also a single, short set of claw marks around the side of his head, starting behind one ear and ending along his cheek bone. She didn't see any bites, though the sight of the other wounds was already making her feel nauseous. She had come to the conclusion in that moment that the spirits of those who were killed by supernatural means still kept their death wounds, unlike those who died in more human circumstances. She'd seen it in Billy and now here in Clive. “See? He did this.” She added softly, stopping short of actually touching the wounds.

The older man looked up, his bottom lip trembling but an ingrained maxim that men do not cry preventing him from showing the full emotion. “What did I do to deserve it?”

Annie rubbed his arm comfortingly – that arm was the only uninjured part of him. “Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong, Clive. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, like he was.” She glanced over at the torches which drew closer.

There was a horrified and accusing look on the old man's face. “You talk like you know the thing that did this.”

Ah, Annie thought. Maybe that choice of words wasn't the best after all. “I know who did it. Me and my friends, we need to find him and stop him before he does this again.” She half-lied, feeling bad for the lie but knowing it was the only way to bring this man on board. “And we need your help to do it.” Clive's rheumy eyes met hers and she found that something glittered there among the devastation. What it was, Annie couldn't be sure, but she hoped it was consent. “Will you help us, my friends and I?”

“What can I do?” He asked.

Annie offered her hand. “Come with me. We need to know what you can remember. Do you think you can do that?” She added upon seeing the dubious expression on Clive's face.

*****

Dark clouds scudded across the bright crescent hanging high above as the cry came. “HEY!” The wind blew a little harder. The rain fell a little colder. Lightening suddenly flashed bisecting the sky. “I THINK WE FOUND THEM, BOSS!” The vampire above, Jonas, looked across as the rain began to fall harder still.

Another pair of shoes appeared at the edge of the ditch and beyond it George could see the face of the vampire who had taken him to Crowley's examination room. “WHERE?” Li shouted back, obviously focussing off somewhere in the distance on the other side of their hiding place. Blinking and squinting by turns, George realised neither vampire had seen them yet. How the hell they hadn't, George had no clue, but they hadn't. That didn't solve the sliding problem, mind you, though the canvas bag he had secreted on his back seemed to be slowing the descent. However, the rain lashing down was only making the mud slicker by the second.

“Right under our noses.” The voice was closer, almost at the bank on the other side, a vantage point from which George and Aleks simply could not hide. Even as he wondered whether maybe it was Daniel or Luke who had been spotted, George sort of knew it wasn't. “Found traces, back there.” The figure was presumably pointing back the way he and Aleks had come from because Li and Jonas both looked that way. “Duncan spotted the tracks and followed them until they entered this ditch. There's no sign of them leavin' it, sir, so they've gotta be somewhere along here. Its at least one adult and that kid he reckons from the tracks.”

George felt Aleks shiver against him. Thunder rumbled angrily off in the distance. George hadn't been counting but he reckoned the heart of the storm had to be a good few miles away. The clouds overhead blotted out the moon completely now, hurrying along as they were with their rapidly lessening lode of rain.

“Did you search the entire length?” Li asked.

“Yeah, it ends about a mile down, leads to a valley with a stream at the bottom.” The third, unnamed vampire said.

Li mumbled this over for a moment. “They could have climbed out near the stream. Take three men and search there. Get the rest deployed along this ditch to catch up with them. Station one at that end,” Li indicated toward the starting point of their night's journey, “in case they double back.”

“Sir!” George could almost hear the vampire salute then he sounded to leave as quickly as he arrived. Seconds later, lightening flashed menacingly close to their location.

“Not the best place to be in a lightening storm, boss.” Jonas murmured, looking up nervously.

“That's single trees, moron.” Li, however, was looking down into the ditch – unfortunately at just the point when the lightening flashed. His and George's eyes met. Li began to chuckle though that was swallowed by the throaty grumble of the storm, only about three seconds away. “Well, well. Look here. This is my lucky day.” He crouched as George stopped fighting the slide and allowed himself and Aleks to come to rest in the bottom of the muddy hollow. “Hello, hounds.” George released his grip on Aleksandr, setting the child on his feet even as he himself turned, scrambling upright and putting himself between the vampires up above and the boy. “Fancy meeting you here.”

George knew he should have been scared. Should've been terrified, but the fact was, he wasn't. Part of him was relieved and even thankful that these life-and-death decisions had been taken out of his hands. And inevitably he had that ever-present twinge of guilt that he hadn't been able to keep his promise and keep Aleks safe. Yet there was still the antagonistic little sod inside him who wasn't going to let him back down and give in. Whether it was part of him as a man or an aspect of his lupine self, he couldn't say, but it was there and keen to get out. Aleks peered from behind him and let out a low whimper. George laid a hand on the kid's head instinctively but never took his eyes from Li.

Jonas, too, had now caught up on current events and with a wordless nod from Li, slid down the seven foot side into the ditch. In all honesty, the trench itself wasn't that wide, so George, who now had to break eye contact with one vampire to face the other, and Jonas were nearly enough chest to chest while ankle deep in sludge. It impaired movement quite successfully and would continue to do so as the rain kept on falling. George ignored the churning of his stomach and his acute distaste as best he could as the slick, cold mud rolled over the sides and filled his trainers.

In build, George noticed he was actually slightly broader shouldered though not as tall as Jonas. Something Mitchell had once said, teasingly, came back to him. “You're stocky. You know in cartoons when a safe falls on someone...” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and a snort of a laugh escaped. That was minutes before they met Annie, back when it was just him and Mitchell hiding from the world in that cosy little house. He'd hated Annie only for the fact that she brought him crashing back to reality and he had to think about what he was instead of enjoying a retreat from all the madness. But that, that was then. Now he hated the idea of being in a world without either of them.

“What's so funny?” Li asked with a slight quizzical furrowing of his brow.

George let out a light, satisfied sigh and didn't bother to look up, instead regarding Jonas curiously. “Nothing, really. Just a thing a friend said to me once. That's something you wouldn't understand. You know. Friends. Having a life.” He looked around at Aleks who clung to his leg and put his hand on the small shoulder. “Having a family. People to love, to care for and trust in.”

Another of Mitchell's comments hit him, this one from very recently. “You thought there would be nothing but there was this.” That was the evening he left the house with no doubt in his mind that he was going to do his best for them, no matter what the cost to himself. Memories hit him thick and fast, each as dear to him as the last. Some were funny, some warmed him in spite of the chill in his very bones, some were sickening, some were just plain tragic but all were sacred to him. All of them showed him Mitchell's words were true. As he recalled their last movie night, enjoying the companionship, he laughed again at the playful three-way pillow fight Annie had initiated.

“Just get hold of it, Jonas. Bloody thing's gone mad.” This one was crazy. That happened sometimes, apparently. Something to do with the chemical imbalance inside all of them, Crowley had said once. Some of them failed to cope with it and went... well, they became lunatics. Jonas complied, getting his hands on George's upper arms.

At that moment, a bolt of lightening hit a nearby oak tree whose branches hung over the edge of the ditch. The rain conducted the electricity to the base of a hefty and oddly exposed branch where the limb itself almost exploded from its housing. It dropped, swinging down like it was on a hinge with its base and the trunk it had previously been held fast to aflame. It swung and the very tips of the branch, those clustered with leaves, connected with Li who was thrown into the ditch. His heels clipped the back of Jonas' head as he fell and the second vampire let go of George, how had already begun twisting away. Meanwhile, the branch, its natural swing arrested by the contact and weakened by the already rampant fire, shuddered and dropped with a loud crash, landing in the mud above. The whole bank groaned. George had time to drag Aleks a little way along the ditch, away from the two dazed vampires, before the entire side of the ditch collapsed, burying Li and Jonas under a ton of sludge. He curled himself over Aleks as the branch followed the mudslide down and landed at a diagonal across the ditch. The burning end was covered and therefore quenched by the sloppy mud bank above and the leaves buried themselves in the bottom of the trench. It was already sliding and unstable as the rain redoubled its fall rate.

Wasting no time, George lifted Aleks onto the branch and the boy began to climb – expertly as children tended to be able to do without thinking. The branch creaked and the small fire in the tree crackled quietly in its rain-induced death throes. It would soon be extinguished. Once Aleks had deftly alighted at the top, George followed. His ascent was nowhere near as quick or simple as Aleks' but then again, he was a good deal larger than the boy. The branch grumbled under the extra weight and slid to the left. George froze aboard it, frozen trainer-clad toes and icy-cold fingers gripping the rough bark as hard as he was able.

“Giorgi!” Aleks called out panicky and loud as he stood watching the events unfold from above. George was probably halfway up the branch. The short fall wouldn't be exactly life threatening unless the branch turns and fell on top of him, but it would end up leaving him trapped down there with the vampires. That wasn't a prospect he relished any more than being crushed. Besides, he wasn't sure how far away those other vampires were and how well they would be able to hear over the storm. The noise might be already drawing them to the scene or perhaps the nature he felt so contemptuously about much of the time was protecting them for the time being.

“Aleks, hide!” He ordered, just to be on the safe side, as the branch settled, still pressing into the mud at the top but barely. Carefully, George dug in again and inched himself higher, closer to his goal. The unconventional ladder he was using complained but thankfully didn't continue moving too far. He reached the top a few minutes later and with a wary glance at the rough, broken end of the branch, he crouched, balancing himself. He pushed off from the branch, launching himself hard enough to land awkwardly on fairly solid ground a few feet away. Behind him, the branch, having had far too much abuse for one night, let go and with a muted, sodden thud landed lengthwise in the ditch.

George lay panting on his side, looking around. Nothing was moving around him save the foliage being battered by the rain. No vampires were hurrying to the scene just now to apprehend the escapees. He dropped onto all fours and closed his eyes in the small clearing he found himself in. The cold rain hammering down on him was actually a relief right now. Had God really listened to the prayer of one of his most hated and despised children, he wondered disjointedly, or was it a coincidence? Thunder rumbled again overhead, immensely loud. He knelt up abruptly and his head snapped around when he heard a whimper nearby even over the storm. “Aleks?” He whispered.

A small blonde head poked out from behind a nearby bush on the edge of the clearing. The poor kid looked so utterly terrified it broke George's heart. He half-crawled and half-stumbled, too knackered to be bothered getting completely to his feet, and got around into the bushes and moved to the little child's side though not among the leaves. Aleksandr's bottom lip was quivering but he sucked it into his mouth bravely as George came closer. “Hey you.” George smiled, sitting down heavily and putting a hand on the lad's arm. “How's my brave little soldier, eh?” Aleks, who had admitted to wanting to join the army in one of their short conversations and was so happy his new friend had remembered, nodded and smiled a little in return. “Are you okay?”

Already the little boy was recovering his wits and had wiped the scared tears from his eyes. “Yes.” He answered in heavily accented English. “Sticky...” He added, raising both his arms and wrinkling his nose.

George copied the move. “Yeah, me too. See?” He sighed, knowing despite their fatigue, they couldn't just stay here. “Come on then. Lets find somewhere safe and dry, eh?” He offered, standing up

“Somewhere have no...?” He made a 'schoom' noise then a phlegmy little grumble, mimicking the storm as he shook his hands back and forth, pretending to make the world rattle.

“You don't like the thunder and lightening, eh?” Aleks understood George's words and shook his head, covering his ears with a distasteful look. “Me either. But it won't hurt you. I won't let it.” He crooked a filthy finger and rubbed it down the kid's cheek fondly.

Aleks now smiled properly and said in a trusting voice. “I know, Giorgi.”

“Okay, so lets go and find ourselves a hiding place.”

[Melissa Kane]

And Then What? Chapter Seventeen

Annie walked back toward the others with Clive following along behind her. She had explained that her friends would be able to see him, a fact which surprised him. As they emerged from the forest onto the road, some distance from where Annie had actually entered, she noticed that Mitchell and Nina were no longer at the barrier. Then again, neither were the police. The blue lights were gone. They had, it seemed, abandoned the search for clues for tonight – the loss of light and bad weather hampering them too much.

A little undecided at first, Annie chose to return to the car which was parked some way from where they had briefly parted company. Away in the distance she saw lightening flash and it was accompanied by a dull roar, like a small explosion. It wasn't too long after that thunder grumbled along behind. Clive was looking around, as if the forest road were completely new to him, and the loud sounds made him jump nervously. “Its alright. Things like that can't hurt you now.”

As it happened, both Mitchell and Nina were in the car, sheltering from the storm, when they arrived. Mitchell offered his friendliest smile as he got out and folded the seat forward so Annie and the new ghost could get in the back. He hunched his shoulders against the rain as the new ghost gave Annie an unsure look – she had to nod her encouragement before he would enter. The two finally got in and sat down and Mitchell put the seat right. “Hi.” Nina greeted softly, turning in the passenger seat and giving the new ghost a small wave. Her blonde hair had come loose and now hung down in wet ribbons about her face though she pushed them back numerous times. The drivers door slammed shut as Mitchell got in.

“Hello.” Clive responded cautiously, staring at Nina then Mitchell in turn.

“Hey. Good to meet you.” Mitchell turned in his seat and held out a hand clad in a scruffy, green, woollen fingerless glove. His hand hovered there for a moment, unshaken, then he withdrew it slowly with a resigned look.

“These are your friends?” Clive asked Annie pointedly.

Annie nodded, not quite understanding. “Clive, this is Nina, and this is Mitchell.”

“But they're monsters.” Clive hissed vehemently. This observation surprised Annie – she didn't think such a new ghost, a ghost who had only just realised he was dead, would have known how to recognise other supernaturals.

“No. No, they're good people. We're all just different.” Annie tried to explain.

“She's one of them.” Clive accused, waving a finger in Nina's direction and pressing himself back against the seat to get as far from her as possible. Nina waited for a moment, her expression almost unreadable. “You said you wanted to stop the monster but you're friends with one?!” Clive blurted, angry and obviously scared. “You said you wanted my help.”

“I never said monster. Werewolves aren't monsters... its not their fault.” Annie interrupted, talking over him and trying to save the situation which had already gone wrong. “And we do need your help...”

Nina sighed. “I think this is my cue to leave.” She replied softly, her uneven and tremulous voice the only indicator of her true emotional state. She was barely 6 weeks a werewolf and was now all alone in her affliction after constantly having another werewolf nearby for support. Add to that the fact that she was still getting used to the whole world of supernatural beings she had already encountered and which had made themselves unwelcomely known to her. She was already unwillingly cutting her family and friends out of many aspects of her life, afraid of them being hurt, which was making her feel more lonely and afraid of her curse, as George called it. She was far too new to everything to be able to grasp of the full implications of her condition and scared out of her wits with this whole new world within the world she knew. So to then have this dead man, a man her normally gentle boyfriend had killed, accuse her of being a monster was just one thing too much. She cracked open the door, gathered her fawn jacket about her as an icy gust of wind blew rain inside the car and stepped out into the rain even as Mitchell called out for her to wait. She shut the door firmly, just shy of a slam, and disappeared into the raging storm. Firing a dark, annoyed look in Clive's direction, Mitchell got out and followed her leaving Annie alone with him.

“Nina. Nina stop. Wait a minute. Come on. Nina!” Mitchell caught her up quite a way down the road. She had her hands thrust into her pockets and head bowed against the weather. She hadn't slowed her pace but Mitchell was in no doubt she'd heard him. He managed to catch her elbow and turn her, bringing her to one side just in case a car came along though he suspected none would on such a dreary, dank night as this.

“What?!” She demanded, throwing his loose grip off her arm with a savage movement. She held herself in a proud and defiant stance, a high colour in her cheeks, but he could see she was hurting. She gamely hid her emotions. “What?” She repeated, less harshly.

“Look, what he said...”

Nina shook her head, stopping Mitchell before he could begin. “It wasn't what he said. I know what I am.” She interrupted. “Did you see him?”

“He's a mess.” Mitchell conceded, frowning as the rain beat his hair down and forward onto his face.

She pointed back toward the car which was little more than a shimmery silhouette as the rain lashed down harder. Her blonde locks were beginning to curl and frizz. “He was torn apart. George did that. My - our George. And it could just as easily have been me.” She shivered and the unsteadiness of her voice increased. “It could've been me doing that to someone. Maybe to a stranger. Or maybe to someone I know and love.” Strong yet vulnerable, Nina stood a little back from Mitchell. “Christ on a bike.” She spat viciously at nothing or no-one in particular. Right now, more than anything, she wanted a cigarette. Something normal. Something of her old life. Anything little to make this nightmare seem a million miles away, if only for a minute.

Mitchell heard everything. He understood. He wanted to help but he had to be honest in saying this was something he couldn't help her with. She was in turmoil. “Its my fault.” He said, breaking into Nina's reverie almost unnoticed, like a feather sinking into water. “If I'd been there, keeping watch like I was going to then maybe I could have gotten the hospital evacuated sooner. Or maybe I could have, I dunno, wedged the door to the isolation room closed. Something. I might have been able to do something.” An icy-cold tendril of water that had been clinging to his hair let loose and trickled down the back of his collar, making him shiver. “But we can't change what's happened. All we can do is try to make amends, to make it right.” He found Nina was looking at him and nodding contemplatively.

“So how do we do that? Make amends? We can't bring him back.” Quite which 'him' she meant was unclear to Mitchell at that moment. “He's dead now.” She said, gesturing toward the car where they could vaguely see two figures moving in the back seat.

“Him, there's nothing we can really do for him but help him adjust to his new... state. But we can stop it happening to others. I dunno, maybe we could, maybe work out a better, safer way of containing you on the full moon.” At his words, she shivered again and Mitchell noticed her quick, nervous glance at the sky that had little to do with the weather. He put an arm about her shoulder. “Come on. You'll catch your death out here.”

“I can't get in the car with him, can I?” She protested. “You saw how he reacted. Not that I blame him – he must be terrified of people like me now.”

“And you have more right to be there than he does. Okay, yeah, we could use his information, but you're more important to us than he is. Face it, Nursey. You're stuck with us.” Mitchell grinned.

“Nursey?!” Nina fixed Mitchell with a stern look but he could see the humour in her eyes. She needed to feel like part of the group and not just “the girlfriend” and if Mitchell had to tease her into the group, thats what he'd do. “Nursey... even George isn't brave enough to call me that.” She paused and a frown creased her forehead as the mobile in her pocket began to vibrate. She took a look at the screen and pushed the receive button with a deeper frown. “Hi Nick? Okay.” She nodded even though she knew this Nick couldn't see her then fell silent, listening. She began to look confused then interested. “I see. Thanks for this, I owe you. Thanks Nick. Yeah, bye. Bye.”

*****

Time passed a little strangely for ghosts, probably in the same way that it passed for vampires. Time was never keenly felt unless there was something happening around you and for the dead, very little usually happened. Maybe that was why of all of them, George had been the most aware and apparently afraid of the passage of time. Perhaps that was one of Mitchell's reasons for first becoming friends – to lend some balance to his own monotonous existence. Vampires and ghosts might linger forever, but werewolves and, it had to be said most humans, had time marked at regular intervals, reminding them of the passing of yet another month, or week, or year.

And so it was for Clive, this odd loss of time. He wasn't aware that it had been nearly three weeks since he died. He was firmly convinced it was only a few days, much less than a week, in fact. Annie, upset by his reaction to her friends, plunged on with her fact finding a little less warmly than before. However, he'd calmed down significantly almost as soon as the others had left. He even seemed somewhat apologetic at having reacted as he did. “Please, I don't understand. Are you really trying to find the, the thing that kil- that did this?”

“Yes, we are.” Annie replied emphatically. “We all need to know what you remember. It might help us find him.” Part of her realised what a dangerous game this could be, considering how hard learning of the manner of her own death had hit her. But Clive was already aware of just how he'd died so perhaps it would help him recall the circumstances surrounding it.

“Three weeks, you say? How can I help after three weeks?” Clive asked, his rheumy gaze snapping to the unoccupied front seats as if he expected Mitchell and Nina to suddenly materialise there.

“It might tell us which way he went, or who has... someone who has seen him since.”

Clive went quiet. He was now staring at his hands which were curled and bloody on his lap. Annie felt a twinge of guilt as the thought rose that she was so glad she had died the way she had and hadn't been shredded and left as a terrifying spectre like this poor man. She knew he was scared and this softened her toward him once more. “You were in accident and emergency with your grand-daughter, right? What's her name?”

“Larissa.” Clive replied, filling her name with all the pride of a loving grandfather.

“Thats a lovely name. I bet she's a pretty little girl.”

Clive was looking inward, a faint twitch of a smile on his lips. “She's beautiful, and so gentle and sweet, just like her mother.”

Annie felt a pang as she watched his expression soften. “How old is she?”

“Eleven. She's eleven, going on 40.” He added fondly.

“They're all older than they seem now, aren't they?” She asked, trying to keep him calm. “So you took her to the A&E, right? What was wrong with her?” Annie remembered well enough that Clive said she'd had an asthma attack, but it might help him to inch his way through the story.

“She wasn't breathing well. She'd been playing with her brother, chasing him around the house. We warned her to be careful, but she's so much like her dad, doesn't listen. Then she couldn't breathe so I left Luke with Mary and took her to hospital in the car. She's a good girl, but never listens.” Clive was belabouring the point here, almost like he was trying to put off the inevitable of remembering what came next.

“Did the nurses start treating her straight away?” Annie prompted.

Clive sighed. “Yes, they made her a priority. They took her in, put her on a nebuliser and made her comfortable. Then said she had to rest and they'd keep her in over night. The, the porter took her to another ward and when she was settled, I went outside A&E to phone Mary on my mobile. She worries, my wife. She always thinks something bad will happen when I'm away from her for too long.”

Annie licked her lips. Something bad did happen this time. His poor wife was right. She didn't speak. Clive was on a roll. “I was on the phone in the waiting room when... I heard something. A growl or something. Mary was saying something on the other end of the phone. I couldn't hear her. There was something there. I.. I heard screams. People started screaming and the people in the waiting room, they, they... they started to panic. People came running out.” Clive was looking completely inward now, lost in the horror of the moment he was reliving. She'd seen the look before. “I started back inside. I didn't know if Lari was safe. I had to get to her. But, God help me, I hesitated. There were... I mean, people were... And there was so much blood. I saw a woman with no... head. And, and, an...” He stopped, running a shaking hand across his forehead. “It hurts. God, it hurts!” He whimpered, so buried in the moment that he was no longer telling a story but reliving it. “No, please. I only want to see my granddaughter. No!”

Clive almost jumped out of his ectoplasm when Annie took hold of his arm, the lacerated one. Ignoring the squidgy feeling of the torn skin beneath her hands and the disjointed shift as he moved. “Oh Jesus.” Clive moaned.

“Its alright. Its okay. Its over now.”

Clive was staring at her, his eyes large and unpleasantly fixed on her. He next spoke in a voice so eerily calm, it could only have been that of a man in shock. “No, but I didn't die there...” Annie was surprised. “Two ambulance men got me onto a stretcher. Strapped me down 'cause I was wriggling and one of them, a man in a boiler suit, put a hand right on my wounds as he leaned over and told the men to put me in ambulance 356.”

“356?”

“Yes. I'm sure it was that.”

Annie was intrigued. “What happened then?”

Clive shuddered. “The man who leaned on me - he, he pushed his fingers into my...” He touched the larger of his chest wounds gingerly. Though Annie didn't think they would have hurt him now, his imagination would make him feel something. “My chest and... licked my blood off them.” Clive curled his lip in disgust. He hurried along so as not to dwell on that. “They threw a blanket over me, cover, covered me up. They wheeled me out. I felt cold air on me then... I was lifted up, trolley and all. I heard doors shut near my head, really close.”

“You were in the ambulance?”

He nodded. “I think so. It started moving and... and I can't remember.”

“What's the next thing you do remember?” Annie prompted gently, still holding Clive's arm to steady his nerves. Given his outburst earlier, she was amazed he was holding it together so well.

“Trees. The forest. I was in the forest. I wasn't able to... I couldn't move very far from a mound of leaves. I'd get so far then something would start pulling me back.” Clive sighed. Annie recalled that same sensation when she'd tried to leave the house just after she'd died.

At first, she'd gotten as far as the next street over before she felt the inexorable pull of the house and had to return. That was, of course, before her “wake” where she had realised she was dead. She realised, now, that knowing she was dead broke that odd bungee-cord feeling. That was why, once he realised he was dead, Clive was able to move from the area where his body had been discovered. Annie moved her grip in order to hold Clive's hand. “Thankyou.” She whispered. “You've really helped.”

The moment ended almost as soon as it began when the car doors opened simultaneously. Nina and Mitchell dived in from the rain with a new sense of purpose about them. “Nick just phoned.” Mitchell gushed.

“Nick?” Annie repeated, mystified.

Nina joined the excited fray. “He's one of my exes, he's one of the policemen working on the “Beast Of Bristol” case.” She clarified, avoiding looking at Clive as she craned around to address Annie. Annie nodded for them to continue. Nina, however, faltered as she couldn't help but look at Clive's wounds.

Mitchell took up the tale, seeing her dismayed reaction. He addressed Clive directly. “He says the body they found, Sir, was a victim of the Beast but that someone else had a hand in, well, in your - disposal.” Clive's face hardened. “You were stripped naked and buried in a shallow grave.”

“So what does that prove?” Clive replied snippily.

Annie was putting two and two together based on what she had heard. “I think it means that you were taken by whoever took George. You'd be useful to them if you lived, but because you didn't, they just hastily got rid of you wherever they could.” Mitchell was nodding along with the theory – Annie would doubtless fill in the gaps later.

[Melissa Kane]

And Then What? Chapter Eighteen

The shelter the two werewolves found was neither as dry or warm as they needed, but it was as good a place as any to stay. They weren't all that far from the ditch but three things had made up George's mind. First, he strongly suspected that the vampires would assume they would flee as far from the gulley as possible and so wouldn't think to look so near for their quarry. And second, the events of the night had drained the little energy George had left even though Aleks seemed quite bright eyed and bushy tailed at this late hour. Thirdly, the storm was showing no sign of abating and this would probably work in their favour if it continued. The vampires might not hunt so keenly or see so well in this kind of tempestuous environment – the weather could be their camouflage as much as any shelter. It had been a gamble to come to this spot, but the gamble appeared to have paid off in spades. In a manner of speaking anyway.

The little box made of logs and with slits in the sides was something he had seen before, though he'd never used one. It was a hide, used by nature-lovers to sit in and watch life going on outside. This hide was leaning against a tree tiredly, its criss-crossed round logs in the process of being reclaimed by the forest. It'd clearly been there, unused, for a long time because the tree, having recovered itself from the apparent impact of the hide toppling sideways in the first place, had begun growing through it. As most of the body was covered in fallen, mouldering leaves, tendrils of questing vines and tenacious mosses had wrapped around it almost completely. Picking a small hole in the foliage, the two travellers crawled inside, after George first checked to see there was nothing dangerous hiding inside.

Sitting in the corner of the festering bench inside, listening to the rain thrumming mutedly on the roof above their heads and the hollow drips of the water that leaked through the holes at the far end, George slid the battered canvas bag from his back. He wrinkled his nose as he opened it, pulling out a glob of semi-dried mud which had somehow crept in during the evening. He flicked it across the room in disgust and wiped his hands on his shirt. The small, uncut loaf of bread that had been in the bag was soggy and filthy. He groaned frustratedly and muttered, “Oh, look at this now.” He looked apologetically across at the watching Aleks, perched nearby, cross-legged on the other end of the small bench. George rooted inside for the other morsels they had liberated. There wasn't a lot left of the supplies they'd stolen from the last place they'd encountered before the forest. Now there was even less. There was one withered, blackened banana and a half bag of peanuts which, like the bread, was now ruined by mud. Inside the bag, too, was a plastic, two-handled baby cup. Aleks had found it on a grass verge near a footpath somewhere in the forest. It was empty and chewed and the lid was gone, but it was likely to be useful.

“Aleks,” He whispered, handing the cup to the boy. “Carefully hold that out into the rain, clean it out and then let it fill with water, okay?” The child nodded, understanding George's spoken English and simple hand gestures better than anyone could have expected. With infinite care, he peeped out through the hole they'd made in the vines before sliding his hands out, holding the cup out into the deluge. He shook it around as it first filled then held it upright again and let it fill to the top with rain water.

While he was doing that, George dug his fingers in through the crust of the bread and peeled it away as thinly as he could. The white bread inside was damp, slightly unpleasant to touch, but not dirty. Aleks brought back the cup and placed it carefully on the bench between them. By this time, George had shelled half the loaf and the two of them picked out and ate pieces of damp bread while taking turns sipping some cold, fresh water which was filled twice more before they were done. When they reached the half way point of the bread, most of which had gone to Aleks, whom George felt needed it more - George reluctantly put a stop to their eating. Who knew if they would manage to get out of the forest tomorrow night. If they managed to avoid being recaptured, that is.

Leaving Aleks taking a long drink from the mug, George turned the canvas bag inside out and pushed it out through the hole, washing the mud off the inside. As he cleaned, he watched carefully outside, but could see very little. He paused in his cleaning. A soft, familiar whooshing sound drifted through the storm. But it was only there for a second before it was gone. He shook his head. It must have been the sounds from the river the vampires had mentioned. It would be quite swollen right about now, he guessed.

Their dinner done, the two began to feel a chill in their bones despite their well-wrapped surroundings. George sat, leaning against the wall with the bag, now only containing an overripe banana, a cup and half a loaf of bread inside at his side. Aleks lay down his head on George's lap, curling up along the bench with his hands gathered in front of him. George rested his hand gently on Aleks' shoulder. “Story, Giorgi?” Aleks asked, barely above a whisper as he twisted his head to regard to older werewolf.

A story? George couldn't think of any stories, not ones for children at any rate. Plus he wasn't good at telling them. “I don't think so, Aleks.”

The child sounded so desperately disappointed as he conceded with a very soft, “Okay”.

George looked at his little charge, already regretful at how harsh he must have sounded. It wouldn't hurt to try. Besides, George could feel morning coming – or at least a lessening of the pull from the moon – so a short story wouldn't harm things and certainly wouldn't give them away providing he was careful.

“It all happened a long, long time ago.” He began in the gentlest, softest tone he could. As he began, George felt Aleks smile against his leg. “There was a young... prince. He lived in a palace with his parents, the king and queen, and all his brothers and sisters.” George leaned his head back against the wall and idly stroked the hair from Aleks' forehead as he closed his eyes and continued. “He knew a beautiful princess from a nearby kingdom and the two were very much in love.” George smiled. “They'd spend as much time together as they could and the prince arranged for a long trip around the world. They would meet other people, learn their languages, taste the local foods and, most of all, enjoy long walks together. They enjoyed themselves so much that, on the last part of their long trip together, just before coming home to their kingdoms, the prince had resolved to propose marriage to the princess. He had bought the ring in secret in one of the towns they had visited.” Aleks made a short, snorting sound of disgust. He was clearly still at the age where “boys didn't like girls”. He'd learn, George chuckled to himself and continued.

“But things didn't go according to plan. They were staying at a ho... a palace of a, a Scottish king when the princess fell ill from eating badly cooked food. The prince wanted to stay at her side but she was so kind and sweet, she told him not to miss the lovely scenery. I was... I mean the prince was never able to deny her anything and obeyed. He was going to venture into the forest and find the prettiest flower and bring it back to make her smile.” Aleks snorted again. “But, he got lost while exploring. He wandered and wandered until night began to fall. He was scared and upset and started calling for help.”

At this, little Aleks gasped, sat up on his knees and a small hand grasped George's little finger tightly, almost like he knew what was coming. George didn't resume for a moment, listening instead to the light whistle of wind through a crack in the timbers somewhere around them and letting his mind wander. It was only when Aleks, watching keenly, tugged on his finger that George remembered to continue. “The prince is lost...” The Russian werewolf prompted.

“Sorry.” He said as Aleks sat down properly and listened. “The prince was lost in the forest, calling for help. He could sense he was not alone. Scared, he ran and ran until he saw something that he remembered from an earlier walk. From here he could get back to his princess and be warm and safe again – but the thing in the woods wouldn't let him. It... it touched him and made him just like it was. Knowing he was different, the prince ran away. Over time, the prince wandered and he met two other lost souls. The three of them looked after each other. They became friends. They became family.”

“Pack?” Aleks asked excitedly.

“Shhhh...” George hushed him gently and nodded. “Yes, they became like a pack, all very different yet still the same. The prince even saw his princess, but she couldn't, she couldn't accept what he had become and left. It upset him but his friends helped him through it. And after some time, the prince let himself fall in love again.”

“She was lost of soul too?” Aleks whispered, very clearly having listened and understood most of the story.

“No. She wasn't a lost soul, at least not in the same way the prince and his, his pack, were. But she made the prince feel like he used to, alive, and this scared him. He knew how he had lost his soul and didn't want it to happen to her or anyone else.” Wide eyes stared, willing him to continue. George found that he couldn't bring himself to finish the story as it had happened. “But she learned what he was and she also... went away.”

Aleks looked so serious. “The prince was lonely?”

George smiled sadly. “Yes, the prince did start to feel lonely until he found others of his own kind but that made him realise all he ever needed was his friends. His pack. And he went back to them and, he lived happily ever after.”

“Happy in endings. I like them.” Aleks nodded, beaming as he slumped and curled up against George now that the story was finished.

“Everyone wants a happy ending.” George murmured, putting a protective arm about him and leaning his head back. “Lets both go to sleep and dream of them, eh?”

Aleks didn't answer. He was already fast asleep.

*****

The morning brought sunshine streaming in through the holes in the hide, dappling the weed-strewn dirt floor with bright patches. George had dozed for a couple of hours but no more. Something woke him and kept him awake. It wasn't deafening twittering of the birds greeting the sunrise, safe up there high in the trees, or the fact that the rain had stopped and now dripped languidly on the roof over their heads. It wasn't even Aleks' restless twitching as he dreamed and whimpered with a shudder. It was that noise. The one from the night before. He heard the watery swoosh, so quiet that it nearly blended with the rustle of the wet leaves above. It wasn't repeated straight away and because of that at first he thought he imagined it. Resting his head back, George closed his eyes, intending to have perhaps a few more minutes rest if he could.

SHOOM. A soft, sound which made George sit up and take notice. Carefully, George slid from beneath the sleeping child, sliding the bag of food under Aleks' head instead. As he crouched at the small hole, he heard it again. The noise, like a living thing, made a bee-line for George's ears, perhaps zeroing in on the one creature who would recognise its significance. You see, for a lifetime inhabitant of the urban jungle, the sound of birds and breeze were unfamiliar. But this, this was something he knew. He'd heard it every morning all through his childhood and for the better part of his adult life. Traffic! He was hearing the sound of cars on wet roads. The sound set his heart racing with something other than fear. George glanced over his shoulder to make sure Aleks was still slumbering, his fitful whimpers had faded as he fell deeper asleep. It wouldn't take long, just to see. It sounded so near. He quietly and cautiously slipped outside.

After the rain, everything was greener and more fragrant though the fallen leaves were slippery underfoot. Mist, brought about by the generous precipitation from the night before evaporating in patches thanks to the rising sun's heat, swirled delicately between the trees lending an unearthly air to the scene. It crept, in places, up as far as chest height. Listening and watching nervously in these muted environs, George picked his way through the thinning forest, straight toward where he had last heard the traffic noise. It was still very early morning, as evidenced by the watery autumn brightness laying low in the patches of sky that he could see. It had always been his favourite time of year, autumn. Leaves metamorphosing from greens to reds and golds and yellows, the quality of light was different, magical. The shortening of days, that bite in the air with the barest promise of winter.

It wasn't long, however, before trees gave way to open spaces and the mud and leaves revealed rocky ground. At this, George faltered. He crouched beside the last tree at the edge of the forest. He stopped, holding onto the rough bark and listening to his own breathing, looking out over a wide open space. No-one and nothing moved that he could see. A light breeze tousled his slightly grown hair and tickled the length of beard along his jawline. Looking right ahead, the rocks stretched out a short way, several feet, then seemed to dip before continuing toward another treeline in the distance. Well, that was the best George could judge. There! His head snapped to the left as the sound of a third, no a fourth car passed – the hum of the engine as big a lure to George as the flame was for the moth. He looked around again and took a deep, slow breath – letting it out in a rush. He moved forward, stones skittering under his filthy trainers, stumbling to a halt, and only just in time. The ground dropped away in a nearly sheer drop only inches from his toes. The cliff face dropped down, probably twenty, twenty-five feet at a gradual angle then levelled off to a grassy layer, then dropped away down to another larger but similar level at the opposite angle to the first, and another and another. Like giant see-sawing steps, leading down and down, like a, a direct path to a ribbon of tarmac way below. A beautiful, white-marked strip of civilisation, complete with parking spots. And where there was a potential for cars, there was a chance of getting home. George stared down then along the drop. The lay of the land was the similar in both directions, forested or grassy, steep and treacherous in all but a very few places. How the heck would he and Aleks manage to get down there in the dark?

“Aleks! Sh*t!” He cursed, He had no idea how long he'd been out here, the need for the road had momentarily blinded him to all other considerations, but the boy would probably be about ready to wake up soon if he hadn't already. He only slept for short periods, no matter how deeply, and if George wasn't there when he awoke, what would the poor little thing do?

Turning on his heel, having seen enough for now, George ran as hard and fast as he could, back into the forest. Hurrying back through the trees being nowhere near as careful as when he'd left yet more stealthily than he would have expected, George was hopping over bushes and batting overhanging branches out of the way, earning a number of shallow scratches to his face and arms in the process. He only slowed as he passed an unfamiliar curved tree, its trunk twisted down by the elements. He didn't recall passing that on the way out. This made him slow to a stop. Had he overshot the mark or missed it completely? He was breathing steadily and quietly, hardly out of breath despite his exertions. Leaning against a tree, he scanned the sun-dappled forest with his once-more achy eyes. The birdsong had gone now, but he suspected that was more because of his presence than anything else. He took a moment to collect himself. Okay, backtracking was the place to start. Go back to a point he remembered and try to find the hide from there – and never did a place ever live up to its name as that did. Why wasn't it nearer the full moon, he lamented, when he'd have the dubious advantage of a decent pair of eyes and some semblance of a good sense of smell? As soon as he formed the thought, he uttered a short, high, humourous snort. “Mitchell would be proud.” He thought to himself idly.

Retracing his steps for a few feet, George paused beside a crop of overgrown brush, all sharp twigs sticking out from a bundle of green. A low whimper, short but unmistakable, caught his attention. Squinting, George let out a sigh of relief as he spotted the hide, perfectly camouflaged among the scrub and lower tree branches. He crossed to it quickly and crawled inside.

“Th-though th-th-the prince ran a-away again.” Aleks murmured in a tiny voice while sitting on the bench looking miserable, scared, and perhaps more than a little groggy with sleep but otherwise fine.

George raised his eyebrows. This was one perceptive kid! “No, the prince was trying to make sure it was safe for his new friend to travel.” He replied, sitting on the bench beside the boy and putting a comforting hand on the back of Aleks' neck. “And it is. We'll have to travel by day though, for now. Are you okay with that?”

Aleks stood up nodding, wordlessly, the barest trace of a smile on his lips. He picked up the bag of supplies and handed it to George decisively. He was ready, and he was ready right now. The sun was still busily burning off the last of the mist as he and Aleks reached the end of the trees. “Far down.” Aleks commented, peeping over the edge.

“Yeah, it is a long way down. But look, see?” George pointed to the road below. “We can find people if we get down there. People who can help us.”

“No wamphyrs?”

“I hope not, no.” George replied with a hopeful air despite suddenly feeling quite exposed up here on the clifftop. They needed to get down as safely and as soon as they possibly could.

[Melissa Kane]

And Then What? Chapter Nineteen

The descent was slow, not least because the sun shining in his eyes as it lingered low in the sky was an unwelcome addition to the aches and pains George already had. He could barely see – the decision to travel by night had gotten him used to the nocturnal lifestyle and now, well now daylight was probably only marginally less painful for him that it was for a vampire. His poor, abused eyes now felt like they were going to explode, a sentiment his thumping head echoed vehemently. Aleks, meanwhile, was less afflicted in all respects and had proved himself to be quite the good little mountaineer as he hopped lithely down the rocks like a mountain goat. Aleks explained, insofar as George's somewhat limited Russian could take him, that he had lived a lot of his life in the foothills of the Ural mountains near the banks of the Chusovaya river so he was probably used to terrain far more difficult to traverse than this.

The need to not be seen clearly, traversing the slick ground and their own lack of sleep made their landing at the tarmac happen at around midday – the sun was just at its highest, George guessed so presumed the time. They had seen cars coming past at intervals all morning, and two walkers had appeared on the horizon, high up the rocks above them at mid morning. They were too far away to hail and besides, the rockface on the other side of the road was far steeper and more treacherous than this one. Those other people disappeared after taking some photographs at any rate, long before they'd have come into vocal range.

George leaned on the fence near the empty car park and rested for a few moments while Aleks wandered a few feet away onto the grass to examine one of the few remaining flowers. This was a late bloomer. In truth, the rest was mostly an excuse for George to try to work out what needed to be done next.

He had concluded long ago that no-one would pick them up if they tried to hitch hike. The danger of possibly encountering the in-transit vampires hunting them notwithstanding, they were both filthy, disheveled and stunk to high Heaven in spite of their best attempts at washing. In fact, considering their shared cut and bruised states, the torn clothing on the boy and George's own Grizzly Adams-esque appearance, anyone they encountered would be more likely to phone the police. Being arrested again was something he could do without. Especially if those police turned out to be vampires... George weighed their other options. There were bound to be shops or houses somewhere along here – it was a road so there had to be something nearby somewhere. No-one made a big road like this through a forested gorge without there being some inhabitants. He had no money and precious little of anything else. Then again, his fears over their appearance would once more mean they couldn't use any amenities. Maybe they could wash in one of those public toilets that were usually found in nature reserves and country parks and those kinds of places.

The majority of cars had been moving from left to right, so there must have been something of note in that direction. The dubious decision made, George called Aleks over, grasped his hand and the two began trudging along, walking along the mostly there pavement while facing oncoming traffic.

It didn't take too long before they saw more parking spots set into half-moon shaped lay-by's which edged against the rocks and trees. There were cars here but a scant few. The storm had apparently put off the less hardy visitors to the area. Bypassing these, George found himself thinking a thought which was very unlike him. He found himself wondering if he could figure out how to hotwire a car and just drive until he and Aleks found signs for Bristol. Aleks, for his part, simply seemed both pleased and fascinated by these signs of life though he was wary of getting too close to the cars.

Only a few hundred feet further along the road, they found civilisation. And how beautiful it was! There were cars parked up, a few people milling around in a meandering, touristy kind of manner. The road curved sinuously and many of the shops and dwellings were on raised levels, just above the road. George even heard the quaint, soft jangle of an old fashioned bell as someone entered one of the shops. Sweet urban living! He stopped on the fringes of this Utopia, suddenly nervous again of rejoining the crowds.

Aleks stood beside him, gripping George's two smallest fingers in his own little hand as he looked between his protector and the unfamiliar sight before them curiously. He wasn't scared. His friend Giorgi would look after him.

*****

“Well, you can't go looking like that.” Annie remarked patiently. She and Mitchell had spent the hours since dropping a decidedly quiet Nina off at her friend's place last night trying to talk Clive around enough to find out why he was still in limbo. The exact circumstances of the moment of his death were still unremembered and probably would be for some time, though it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that being mauled by a frenzied werewolf was fairly detrimental to your health. She and Mitchell had tried prompting Clive into looking into why he'd not simply passed on. Was it that he'd been murdered, taken before his time? Was he still here because of his evident worry for his grandchild, daughter and wife? Had he done something he regretted and needed to set right before he was able to go to his final rest? Whatever the reason for him staying, Clive was being evasive when they posed questions of him and boorishly kept saying he just wanted to see Lari, Rose and Mary.

“Why not?” Clive asked, bristling.

Mitchell let out a low, harsh sigh, his own patience wearing decidedly thin. Yet, with a monumental effort, he kept his tone as even and soothing as he could. “Because if you turn up on your family's doorstep looking like that, you'll scare them to death. Do you want to do that?”

“Well of course I bloody don't!” The belligerant ghost replied. “But you say I'm trapped here and I say they're why.”

“But Clive, you don't know that.” Annie explained again. “I thought the resolution of my death would be straight forward, but it wasn't. And if I hadn't had help from my friends, I'd never have resolved it.”

“Aha!” Clive began. “But you didn't did you?” Annie frowned now, a little mystified. “You've not gone to a better place, have you? You're still trapped here, aren't you? So why should I listen to you? Or him? Eh? Eh?”

Mitchell looked at the digital clock, a new addition to their belongings and not an item Mitchell particularly trusted. Its red glowing figures told him that it was only just after 11.30am and his stomach began to growl, reminding him that he'd not actually eaten anything so far today. He stood up and went to the coat rack to fetch his jacket. As he slid it on, he turned to the others. “Look, lets forget this for now. We're getting nowhere fast. We're all getting ratty and that's not gonna help anyone. Besides, I'm getting hungry...”

Clive's eyes narrowed inside his craggy face as he watched from his place on the chair. “So you're off out in daylight to kill someone?” He wavered between defiance and fear.

Mitchell laughed, a tense one but a laugh nonetheless. “No, I'm off to the chippy before they close. I could murder a couple of battered fish right now.” He added with a rapacious look in his eye. He left as quickly as he could but not before casting a meaningful look in Annie's direction.

Annie watched him leave then turned back to their uncooperative guest. As patiently as she could, she phrased the question again. “Okay then, lets be logical. Why do you think that your family are the key to being able to, well, pass over? Is there something that happened that you regret?” As Clive carefully pondered this enquiry, Annie blinked and wondered at her own tone of voice. “I sound like that councellor my Nan went to after her accident.” She commented aloud, wandering into her meandering thoughts for a moment. Not that she'd been in on the sessions but she'd talked to the councellor afterwards. Surprisingly, talking didn't cure Nan's pygmy goat obsession.

“There's one thing.” Clive's gravelly voice cut into her thoughts. He spoke once more in a quiet and calm way proving, as if she needed to have it proven, that he was set on edge by other supernaturals.

“What's that?”

Clive hesitated, like he was ashamed. “Rosie and I... we, argued. As she was dropping the grand-kids off, I said something about Jeff, that's her boyfriend – Lari's dad, and we got into a row on the doorstep. Rose, she stormed off. Got a temper on her, she has. Gets it from me. Flies off the handle at things she don't like.”

“Whether she's right or wrong?” Annie supplied helpfully, raising her eyebrows as Clive shot her a look. Behind them, the house phone began to ring, making look over and break eye contact. Whoever it was would call back. This was important. “But you can see the point Mitchell was making, can't you? If this guilt over the argument is keeping you here, how much worse will you feel if you scare the daylights out of her by going and trying to apologise, hmm?”

The phone kept on ringing in the background, persistently bleeping until there came a loud whirring and the answerphone kicked in. George's voice came over the tape – this was an old, stained cassette tape model George had scrounged up in some old tat shop or other after he had transformed in the house a few months ago. He'd felt he had to almost single-handedly restock the house after that but they'd only used the old Binatone recorder a couple of times before Mitchell purchased a better, cordless phone and this item had been consigned to the extension in George's room.

“Hi, you've reached George” George said on the tape. “And Mitchell.” Mitchell's Irish brogue interrupted smoothly before continuing. “Wait for the beep and leave your number..” George cut back in “And we'll get back to you as soon as we can.” Quieter and in the background of the tape, she heard George whisper “Is that it?” before the loud beep kicked in. She'd quite forgotten they even had an answerphone until after George had disappeared and then Mitchell brought it down from their housemate's room and hooked it up to catch any calls their various enquiries might return, in case they were out searching.

Clive clamped his teeth together, though this spread the torn flesh at one side of his jaw just a little. Enough so Annie could see the gore and even his back teeth. “I suppose he's right. Wouldn't want to scare her. Rosie will be grieving now... like her mum. But I want to know if they're alright.”

“I know you do, but there are other ways. I don't exactly know what they are yet but...”

A harsh, whispery voice echoed from the machine. “Annie? Mitchell? Pick up. Please!” A soft sigh of exasperation. “Come on, someone's usually there. Annie? Annie, its me. George. Pick up...” The second sigh was more a whimper of either frustration or fear. Annie disappeared from the couch, reappearing at the answer machine. “Shhhhhhhit... they're here.”

Annie snatched the archaic, blocky receiver up. “George!!” She shouted. “George!” There was only the harsh buzz of the dial tone. He was gone. If she'd been alive, her heart would have been trip hammering against her ribs as she replaced the receiver in its cradle. As it was, it was all she could do not to burst into tears of relief. He was alive. Wherever he'd been for the last three weeks, he was alive right now! Annie had never been so glad to be wrong in all her life – or death. She stopped the tape, rewound it – a process that was devastatingly slow to someone raised mainly in the digital era of instant everything – and replayed the message.

George's usually carefully structured speech was staccato, stressed. He was whispering, as if he were making a phone call from somewhere he shouldn't. In the background, as George begged her to pick up, Annie felt sure she heard a small, tinny bell ring. Then George cursed those chilling words and the line went dead. She rewound, turning the small volume wheel on the side of the phone to maximum. The cracking hum on the cassette playback masked some of sounds, but she definitely heard a bell ring just before George swore.

An idea hit her. She stopped the tape after the end of the message and dialled 1471. It was quite surprising to know this ancient phone could access the new “last call detail” service at all. She wrote down the number of the phone George had called from, and listened to the options and pressed five to ring back. The phone rung three times before someone picked up.

“Hullo. Fenton's Cheeses. How may I help you?”

This threw Annie, but not for long. Like a dead Nancy Drew, she was on the case of the missing Lyco once more. “Um, uh, hi! Hi there. Could, um, could I have your address there please?” Carefully she wrote down the address the cheese shop owner gave her and thanked him before hanging up. Spurred on by the urgency of George's hastily murmured curse, Annie tore the top sheet of paper from the pad. With the paper clutched in her hand she disappeared. In her excitement, she had completely forgotten about Clive and left him alone, stunned and sitting in the armchair in the living room of the House.

*****

Mitchell had just finished paying for his fish and chips when Annie suddenly materialised beside him. He looked at her, startled, though not enough to drop his lunch. The other person in the queue frowned in the middle of ordering his fish and looked from Annie to the door and back again. His lips formed the unuttered words “What the f*ck?”

Mitchell got hold of her arm and led her outside and then to one side of the doorway with a worried expression. “What's going on?” There was something different. Annie seemed to be almost glowing with pent up excitement yet tears stood in her eyes. “Annie? Annie, Whats wrong?”

“Its George. He phoned the house. Mitchell, he's alive.” She started talking and the words tumbled out over each other. She was close to babbling but not quite there. The fish wrapped in several sheets of plain white paper – God Mitchell missed the days when newspaper was good enough to wrap chips in – was getting hot to the touch so he shifted the meal to his other hand.

“Did... did you get to speak to him? Was he okay? Did he sound okay?” Mitchell asked, understanding her reaction now. Annie chose this moment to thrust a piece of paper into his newly free hand.

“I didn't get to the answer phone in time but he's here. I rang the place back and got the address.”

Mitchell stared at the paper, feeling real hope for the first time in days. “This is in the Cheddar area. George is kinda to the west, just like the note said!” He embraced her impulsively for a second before releasing.

“We need to get there fast. I think he's in trouble. I'd have have rung Nina but she said she was working today, didn't she?” Annie added urgently and more than a little contrite.

Mitchell put the paper in his pocket and swapped the piping hot fish back to his other hand before it began to burn too much. “I dunno. But we need to check this out right away. Come on.”

Mitchell set off running the few blocks back to the house. Meanwhile Annie teleported back to the House. She took up the keys for the car in one hand but only then noticed a note on the top sheet of the pad. It was written in scrawly and very light handwriting, almost like the author had minimal control over the pen. 'Thankyou. I know what to do now and how to do it.” Annie looked around, realising the note could only have been left by one person, but she already knew Clive was no longer there. The House told her so.

[Melissa Kane]

And Then What? Chapter Twenty

Mitchell leaned on the horn of the car. There wasn't time for this. Traffic had slowed to a crawl while leaving Bristol thanks to there being an accident but not on this side of Bridgwater Road, though. No, the people on this side had just slowed down to gawp at the accident where an ambulance had just appeared just as a precaution, Mitchell assumed. A car was half in and half out a a high hedge having, it seemed, lost control and a woman in an impossibly flowery dress was pacing up and down with a mobile phone jammed to her ear. Normally, such morbidity was interesting and even a little amusing to Mitchell but not today, not when he had somewhere to be. Similarly Annie, sitting in the passenger seat, was resolutely staring past Mitchell at the crashed car, as if she might move it with her mind and get this traffic moving again. Coming toward them on the other side of the road, a whooping siren screamed as a police car arrived in attendance of the scene. An ambulance had already arrived and Annie had made a careful note of the number. It wasn't the one they were seeking but, then again, she hadn't really expected it to be.

“What did he say again?” Mitchell asked, trying to keep everything in perspective as he tried not to think what could happen in the time they had already been delayed.

“He was almost begging someone to pick up the phone and then he said 'they're here' and hung up. Mitchell, he sounded so scared.” As did Annie.

“Its okay. We'll get there and he'll be fine.”

“Of course he will.” Annie replied, far more confidently than she really felt. “He's got through worse than this.” She added though most of what she had said was drowned out by the arrival of the police car, though this had a beneficial effect on the flow of traffic.

“Yeah.” Mitchell agreed as the line of cars eventually began to inch forward at a marginally faster pace than before.

*****

Aleks backed up against the dead end wall, huddled between the large round silver bins behind the building, his newly scrubbed hands cupping the sleeve of his filthy jumper over his nose and mouth while keenly watching Giorgi disappear through the unlocked back door of the building. He didn't know what the place was but he knew that didn't like the horrible smell coming off the rubbish. He could hear water swirling and chuckling on the other side of the stone wall behind him and shivered. He hoped his friend wouldn't be too long inside before they could move on.

They had been coming out of the small but clean public toilets where Giorgi had quickly tried to clean them both up, clearing away dirt and cleansing their as yet untended scratches with liquid soap and the noisy hand driers when his friend had told him to go back inside. Aleks did as he was told immediately. Giorgi wouldn't tell him to do something if it wasn't important and he cringed as he saw a dented yellow car drive past as he and his protector lurked just inside the doorway. Giorgi had made him run across the road and hide where he now was between the rubbish bins.

He reacted immediately as his friend emerged from the doorway, stopped with his back pressed to the wall beside it and held a finger to his lips. That meant he had to be quiet. Aleks knew this sign now. Giorgi had taught it to him. In fact, Giorgi had taught him lots of new and interesting things and Aleks felt safe with him. He liked feeling safe. Giorgi made him feel safe in the same way Papa had. In fact, he looked a little like Papa now, with the beard, but Papa used to wear spectacles too. Aleks remembered that from a long time ago, before... before it happened. He did not want to think about that. Ever. That was where the nightmares came from. Giorgi was beckoning him over now and Aleks obeyed, clutching at the older werewolf's offered hand and the two of them crept around the side of the building. Giorgi squeezed his eyes closed with a flinch, Aleks noticed, before opening them, blinking a few times then peering around the corner.

George wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he broke into the shop's back door. Well, perhaps “break-in” was too strong a term since he'd not pulled a Tully and picked the lock or anything. But the shop phone was just hanging there on the wall near the stockroom door and was too tempting to ignore. He'd quickly rung home for help but right now, he couldn't even think if he actually left a message or not. He remembered whispering, talking, but not exactly what he said. Probably nothing helpful. Maybe they'd think it was a prank call. Would they recognise his voice? Did he say his name at some point? He'd been too transfixed on the movements outside the shop window – he could see Li and a couple of other vampires in the streets. They weren't dead yet then... ironically speaking, since they were dead. “Get a grip, George.” He murmured harshly to himself.

His mind went back to the phone call. All the could be certain of was that no-one had picked up which was very strange. Usually there was someone home and that someone was generally Annie. But even his ghostly friend hadn't been there. Or had she? Could it be that they were angry with him for what he'd done to Nina? No, no they'd have to know it was an accident. Or maybe they were upset by thinking he'd finally run away and abandoned them? Surely they knew he'd never do that. But if it wasn't either of those, as he hoped, then what had happened? This uncertainty worried him far more than anything else and he frowned. What if his abduction wasn't the only thing to have gone on. What if someone had actually hurt his friends? He wasn't worried by this sudden notion, he was downright scared! Had these vampires done something to them while trying to apprehend him? Or was it Mitchell's acquaintances among the Bristol vampires – God knows they knew the truth of what happened so perhaps...

When the little boy pulled on his hand, the distracted George almost leapt out of his skin with a high gasp. His heart rate jumped and the thumping vibrations shaking his brain got a smidgin stronger, fuzzing up his already blurry vision even more. Aleks looked upset, letting go and withdrawing his hand so fast it was almost like he'd been burnt. Covering his eyes for a moment with the shielding hand, George sucked in his lower lip and slowed his breathing by degrees trying to lessen the intensity of his headache. It never worked, but it'd never stopped him from trying. He uncovered and opened his eyes after a moment, realising that his own surprise had inadvertently scared the kid too. George offered an encouraging smile and rubbed the back of the boy's neck gently. “Its okay.” He mouthed. “We're alright.” Aleks still looked a little shaken as he nodded his understanding though he didn't return the smile.

The vampires were, it seemed, still in the shop. If they could get across the front of the shop before they saw, he and Aleks would be able to find somewhere to hide. “Come on then. Lets find somewhere safer, eh?” George suggested, offering his hand once more to Aleks. The little boy was very obviously nervous but trustingly scurried along behind George as he made a break for the tree-lined building opposite which would, hopefully offer some cover.

*****

It took more than an hour for Mitchell to navigate their ageing Volvo to their destination, on the outskirts of Cheddar village. Along the way, they had been talking a little but more often than not, had been travelling in a pregnant silence. As they parked up, Annie had already spotted their destination. In her eagerness, she was almost out of the car before Mitchell had time to turn off the engine. He caught up to her as she was half way down the road and preparing to cross the street. As they came to the door, a man in a posh suit, quite out of place, was leaving. “That's the bell.” Annie reported excitedly as Mitchell caught the door, holding it open so Annie could enter first.

Inside was the usual kind of small business shop, a central aisle leading to the till and serving desk at the back with a couple of rows of short shelves to the left and right. On every shelf were small, plastic wrapped packages of various cheeses, creams and other dairy products. Some were wrapped for the consumption of tourists whereas full rounds of cheese were on higher places on the walls and intended, it seemed, for a more professional kind of clientele. Annie linked Mitchell's arm and held on as they walked together down the wide middle aisle. The middle-aged man with a severely receding hairline stood at the counter, cleaning his glasses on the edge of the pale green apron he wore which was emblazoned with the Fenton's Cheeses insignia, a rotund cheese with a cartoon face grinning out. As they reached the counter without looking at any of the wares, the man refitted his glasses and peered at them owlishly. “'Ello, can I help you?” He enquired politely in a soft, pure Bristollian patois.

“Hi, I phoned you about an hour ago asking for your address.” Annie began.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled warmly though clearly confused.

“Do you remember seeing anyone using that phone just before my friend rang you?” Mitchell asked, subtly.

The cheese clerk raised his eyebrows, pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Sorry, I was busy serving – lunchtime rush. Now, what about some cheese? We have some new and unusual blends made by our own expert cheesemaker...”

“Did you see anyone unusual?” Mitchell persisted, ignoring the enquiry. They couldn't get this close only to lose him again.

The man looked around the shop. “What's unusual? We get loads of people in 'ere, all different walks of life.” He leaned forward. “And between you and me, mate, some of them are right weirdos.” He moved back again with a glance at the back door to his right... a back door with a telephone situated right beside it. “So what can I interest you in? We have your basic cheddars as well as fruit varieties, some have nuts. Or for the more discerning customers, we do special alcoholic blends.” At this the man quirked an eyebrow and grinned impishly, as if this alcoholic blend of cheese was a kind of forbidden pleasure. There was an odd kind of timid tenacity amid this man's words.

Five minutes later Mitchell was £25 poorer and carrying seven small wedges of different types of strange and unusual cheeses. Annie was trotting alongside as they returned to the car. They passed a recessed area of rocks and trees and Annie happened to glance over – only to see a homeless man in a filthy, torn shirt sitting half hidden under the large bushes while rooting around in some kind of stained bag. She paused. “Mitchell, can I have one of those?” She asked, taking the top wedge of cheese from the pile.

“Where're you going?” Mitchell asked, desperately juggling the now unstable pile of dairy products as he tried to follow her along.

She headed toward the strangely out of place vagrant and stopped a short distance away. “Hello? Hey, are you hungry?” The vagrant froze and his head snapped around with a slight gasp. “I'm not going to hurt you. But you seem hungry. I've got some food if you'd like some.” She held out her hands non-threateningly with the cheese held between them. Warm blue eyes stared at her, not even considering the offering but looking her over intensely. She didn't feel threatened. They made her feel secure for no apparent reason. “Here.” She repeated as she crouched and held out the cheese now clutched in one hand.

“Annie?” The man looked up over her shoulder in a second as Mitchell came up behind her having only now gotten his miniature dairy mountain under control. He stopped.

The wanderer was staring at both of them with an amazed expression. “Annie. Mitchell. Y-you came..?”

“George?” Mitchell said in a hushed tone as Annie stood up in surprise.

“You came.” He repeated, a slight disbelief in his tone, a little softer as he let go of the bag and turned toward them. “You came.” He said a third time, this time his voice fractured with emotion as he stood up and lunged, embracing Annie. She put her arms around him comfortingly, feeling a vestige of George's body heat flowing through her and almost imaging she could feel those hard bristles which graced his cheeks and chin. Mitchell was at their side instantly and gripped George's upper arm with one hand. Their misplaced werewolf yelped and let go of Annie only to latch onto Mitchell who clamped his free arm around his best friend's back. “You're really real?” George whispered as if fearing a negative answer.

“We're real, George. We are. Its going to be okay.” This close, aside from sensing werewolf incredibly strongly, Mitchell found that his friend reeked of stale sweat, half-dried damp, fear and something distinctly more fecal, but as unpleasant as that was, Mitchell couldn't care less. He was alive. Mitchell held on a little tighter, dismayed to be able to feel George's spine and ribs prominently through the back of his shirt. He was definitely thinner than when Mitchell had last seen him and there wasn't as much power in the arms about him now as there usually was.

As if he realised how bad he smelt, George released and pulled out of Mitchell's grasp suddenly, withdrawing several steps. His eyes were watery as he struggled to contain his emotions by blinking harshly and threading his fingers together to cover his nose and mouth. This so very George-like movement brought tears to Mitchell's eyes. And Annie was openly sobbing with relief.

Only now could Annie and Mitchell take in his disheveled appearance. The jeans and shirt he wore were ill fitting and hideously damaged. They looked like something he would pick up on his way home after his time of the month except that there were blood stains in places. George's arms and face, the parts not covered by the substantial beard which made him barely recognisable even to those closest to him, were suspiciously clean and completely at odds with the clothing he wore. However, he had dozens upon dozens of bruises and shallow, half healed lesions. There were dark circles under his sunken eyes and a drawn aspect to the parts of his face they could see.

“Are you alright?” “Where have you been?” The questions asked by Annie and Mitchell overlapped as George looked between them both rapidly, still trying to convince the small voice in his head that he wasn't hallucinating.

George found that he couldn't answer either question. His mind wasn't really working right now so instead he sat down heavily in the mud and shut his eyes. “You really came... Aleks, come here. I want you to meet some people.”

Annie and Mitchell both looked surprised as a young child, no more than six years old, crawled out from deeper beneath the bushes. The little boy stood in the muddy ground a little behind George, very close to his back. He peered around to look at the new people with wide, fearful eyes. “Wamphyr!” He whispered urgently.

“Yes, he's a vampire. His name is Mitchell. And this is Annie, she's a ghost. You remember the story?” Aleks nodded, eyes fearfully rivetted on the wamphyr called Mitchell. “These are the friends who found and looked after the prince.” George whispered back, rotating himself to sit sideways, legs bent to the side.

Aleks licked his lips. “Pack?” George nodded with an encouraging grin.

“What did you say?” Annie asked, crouching down. George frowned, bemused, as he turned to face her. It was almost like he didn't understand how she didn't know what he'd said. But how could she. It was in some rolling foreign language she'd never heard.

“Thats Russian.” Mitchell observed, smiling disarmingly at the child who immediately shrank closer to George. “You were speaking Russian, I'm sure of it.”

“Was I?”

“Hi.” Mitchell greeted, holding out his free hand for the small boy to shake.

“He's a friend. He's safe.” George whispered, encouraging him to step forward and shake Mitchell's hand and only on George's say so did Aleks move and do just that. He darted back to the safety of George's side immediately though. “And Annie.” George urged. Annie held out her hand and Aleks shook hers too, less afraid. He even took the cheese she gave him with a small “spaseeba”. Annie knew that word. It was thankyou. She'd heard it in a James Bond film a few years ago.

“You're welcome.” She said in English.

Introductions done, Mitchell found himself taking charge. He put all those blasted cheeses into the bag George had, though Aleks flatly refused to give up the wedge Annie had given to him, even though it was meant to be champagne flavoured. He clutched it like a prize to his thin little chest. Then Mitchell quietly suggested they get to the car and go home – an idea which no-one disagreed with.