The Children Of The Mist (19 page)

He looked at Morven. ‘Can you hear it?'

She nodded. ‘It's the express.' She looked around. ‘What are we doing here? Why have we stopped?'

‘We're gonna catch the train.'

Morven looked back up the track, her head tilted slightly, and Zest guessed she was judging just how far and how fast the train was coming. She looked back at him. ‘What, you going to hijack it? Or do a Superman and bring it to a grinding halt?'

Zest laughed. ‘Nothing so crude.'

Morven's mouth opened again but Zest ignored her. No time for polite conversation. The train was nearly on them. A second later its bullet-shaped nose cruised around the corner. ‘Come on!' He broke into a run, sprinting parallel to the track. Behind him the shrill whine of the wheels drowned out everything else. Chemicals poured through his system and his heart went into overdrive. And he felt that indescribable high build up in his brain. Light flickered as the metal speed demon roared past. Then, with deadly accuracy he jumped, and landed, lighter than a cat on the roof of the last carriage. A nano-second later, Dog skidded to a halt beside him. Zest peered down expectantly.

But Morven was still running, her pale face lifted up to his. Zest felt a wave of anxiety. Dammit, she wasn't going to make it. He'd have to abort the mission. A second later Morven began to lose ground. The train pulled away. A metre. Two. Ten. Dog whined. Zest knew just how he felt. He put a hand on Dog's black head. ‘Better get — ‘

But the sentence shrivelled and died like a dehydrated date as Morven suddenly took off. Quite literally. One moment she was land-locked, the next airborne. Zest's heart beat like a psychotic alarm clock as she landed at the rear of the carriage, crashed, and slid like a crash test dummy toward him. He reached out and caught at the waistband of her jeans and frantically tried to slow her momentum. Finally she came to a stop, her head and shoulders hanging precariously over the edge. Zest carefully reeled her in.

Morven recovered almost immediately, flipped herself over and jumped to her feet. She was grinning hugely. ‘Oh my God. You see that? I can fly! I mean, I can really freakin' fly!' She lifted her hands skyward. ‘I am Batgirl!'

Zest grinned, infected by her high. ‘Shame about the landing though.'

Morven glared at him. ‘Oooh, that's so unfair.'

Zest ran a hand through his hair. ‘It is,' he conceded, ‘maybe I'm just a touch jealous.'

Morven seemed mollified and patted Dog. For a while she was quiet, and he could see her looking out into the dark landscape. He let her be. On his first ride, he'd been pretty much overwhelmed. As Zest had anticipated, she was a natural. He'd always thought that hitching a ride on a train was like riding the world's fastest skateboard. Man, he'd love to go to Japan and ride the real deal. Maybe one day.

‘Zest,' said Morven, ‘this is ultra cool. The ultimate way to travel. How long you been doing this? It's just…mad-doggish.'

‘I took my first ride about two years ago. I'd missed the train by seconds. I could still hear it, so I just raced down the track. When I caught up I just, you know — went for it. Nearly scared myself to death, but I made it. Just.' He didn't tell her that on that night his
loneliness had burned despair deep into his soul. When he had made that leap, he'd half hoped that he wouldn't make it.

Morven's black eyes sparkled like wet jet, her hair whipped behind her, and her torso undulated gently to compensate for the movement of the train. She took Zest's breath away. There was something elemental about her, as if she were a new compound of earth, wind and fire. A daughter of the storm. All that he had dreamed of, and more. But his joy was bittersweet. For deep down he feared that, despite all her heartfelt sentiments, Morven would leave and never return. He feared that in Scotland she would discover her true heritage. And renounce the past and all who belonged there.

And he would not blame her. Given the same opportunity, Zest could not be sure that he would choose a different path. Morven had Become. She was Vampyre.

And he was Werewolf.

And history had a horrible way of repeating itself.

As the world flashed by Morven's emotions seesawed uncomfortably. It was as if she were struggling to reconcile two different people. Two different sets of needs and wants. Two entirely opposite sets of standards.

She was not sorry she had Become. How could she be? It was like she'd finally grown into a pair of poorly-fitting pants. And it felt great. Like she was reborn and just starting to evolve. There was this amazing sense of anticipation. The world shimmered before her, filled with a tantalising promise of things yet to come. It was like she'd joined the ranks of the superheroes. Who, in their right mind, could diss that? Not Morven Smith, Batgirl.

But Batgirl was still Morven Smith. And Morven couldn't easily dismiss sixteen years of loving and living. Despite her high, a shadow lay across her heart. Soon she must leave. And there was the problem. Why couldn't she be Batgirl Down-Under? Get a night job. Skate. Hunt with Zest and Dog. And really get into Halloween. It wasn't fair.

Suddenly the landscape felt dear to her. She could even squeeze out a few atoms of fondness for school. Even The Midget. And then there was home. She'd never really thought about it before, but the high-rise apartment was neat with its modern lines and the constantly changing view of the river. And what about the skate park? Really cool. Bet they didn't have anything as great in Scotland. She'd seen it on TV. It was a dreary, crowded, grotty kind of place. Lots of murder, too. The soft scent of gum blossom drifted on the wind. No gum trees in Glasgow. Probably no trees at all. And they spoke a foreign language.

Foreign. That was the word for it alright. Except, of course, so was she, really. A kind of cuckoo. Dumped in someone else's nest. What kind of crap parents did that anyway? Vampyre parents, that's who. And there was the snag. Despite it all, she was filled with an irresistible urge to find them. Her living DNA. Did she have brothers and sisters? Aunts and uncles? Cousins and grandparents? Maybe she had a whole family forest out there. Somewhere. Anyway, if she tracked them down they'd be in for a thorough interrogation. She'd probably demand compensation. Why not? It was the thing to do these days.

But still. Her mum and dad were waiting out there, fighting the forces of evil and plotting to smuggle her out of harm's way. And she wondered how the hell she'd manage without them. Her sweet, kind, generous parents. Fear gripped her then. Were they alright? Maybe she should phone. But what if she did and their phones were all bugged. It wasn't impossible. No, she'd just have to be patient. They were smart. And resourceful. They'd be okay. They had to be.

And deep, deep in her brain, something primeval reared its head and hissed. It was impossible to suppress the burst of sheer, unadulterated fury triggered by the threat to her family. She'd killed once for someone she loved. Second time round it would be easier than licking the icing off a cake.

So, inevitably, she came full circle
. Someone she loved
. She glanced at Zest. He was standing almost on the edge of the carriage. The wind rippled through his hair and worried at his shirt, but otherwise he was still. Morven's heart melted like warm molasses. He was gorgeous. Even in the dark, cloudy night, Morven could see perfectly. The generous mouth, the strong neck and broad back. He looked like an ad for healthy living. She guessed it was the muted effect of the moon. She glanced up, half hoping to see the cloud thinning, but the
sky remained pregnant with the promise of rain. In his full wolf form, Zest was awesome. Seven feet of black, furry bad ass. She sure was glad he was on her side.

She ran the words through her brain once more.
On her side
. Inside, she glowed. She knew for sure that he had strong feelings for her. You didn't need to be a vampyre to figure that one out. But the knowledge was stained with unhappiness. Just when it seemed that things were miraculously about to happen, fate conspired against her. It seemed wrong to pursue her natural inclinations when life was so uncertain. She had to go away. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen. Where she'd be in a day or a week. When she'd be back. Indeed — if she'd be back. While she knew Zest would come with her in a heartbeat of her asking, she couldn't do it. It wasn't fair. And she knew she'd never leave if her parents were without his protection.

But the thought of leaving him behind was like poking a finger into an open wound. Agony. But there didn't seem to be any easy answers. In the end, she realised that she had to do this thing on her own. That it was only possible if Zest and Dog were on guard duty. When she came home, things would be different. Everything would just have to go on hold until that time. For a moment she felt a twinge of panic. What if Zest met someone else while she was away? What if she wasn't the only one? It wasn't impossible that in some other school, in some other ‘burb, another innocent was waking up. If she made it home and found some other bat-person with their hooks into Zest she'd be a tad pissed. To say the least. Still, it didn't seem likely. But you never knew.

Zest broke the silence. ‘Morven, this is our stop.'

Morven realised he was right. Consumed with her mojo, she'd failed to keep tabs on the lay of the land. Close by, the lights of the city winked and blinked in the darkness. The express train slowed as it pulled into the railway yard. A labyrinth of metal tracks and idle engines. Dog leapt first, landing lightly on the roof of an old diesel locomotive. Zest followed a nano-second later. Without conscious effort, Morven followed. They stood silently until the train wound its way toward the station. Morven could hear the metallic voice-over of the stationmaster, and hear the soft sigh and shuffle of waiting passengers. The dank smell of the river wafted overhead, and far above bats flew softly into the night.

Zest looked at his watch. ‘It's eight. We've got an hour.'

Morven patted Dog, who waited patiently, his brown eyes following this snippet of conversation. ‘What do you think we should do? Go to the park and stake it out?'

Zest ran a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. ‘No, let's go see Zach.'

‘Zach! Honestly, Zest, you've only just eaten. You can't possibly be hungry already. This is not the time for a snack.'

‘I'm not hungry. I just think you should talk to him.'

Morven was confused. She liked Zach and all, but she didn't feel like burgers or conversation. ‘Zest, I'm not being rude, but I'm not in the mood.'

Zest looked at her then, his green eyes strangely hard, like uncut gems. ‘You will be, when you hear what he's got to say.'

It was the first time that Morven could ever recall feeling uneasy in her friend's company. There was something unfamiliar about him. Suddenly he seemed older, harder, more distant. There was a grim set to the lines of his face. Not a dimple in sight. Well, she didn't like it. ‘I don't want to see Zach.'

‘You have to.' There was a rough edge to his voice. An underlying growl of something that suggested the beast.

Morven's eyes narrowed. ‘I don't have to do anything I don't want to. You don't scare me, Wolfie. I licked you arm-wrestling. You really wanna rumble?'

Zest turned away, and his broad shoulders slumped. ‘I don't wanna argue with you, Morven.'

And then she understood. Zest wasn't angry, he was upset. For a moment she wavered indecisively but then walked up behind him, slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back. ‘Zest, what's wrong?' The aroma of aniseed seeped out of one of his back pockets.

He stiffened and she thought he was going to shrug her off and walk away. But he remained where he was. ‘Morven, you remember that I told you I don't know anything much about your kin?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, I wasn't entirely truthful. Fact is, I do know a bit. Just didn't want to tell you.'

Morven was stumped. How strange. ‘Why?'

He turned around then and looked down at her. ‘Because you think we're the same. Well, we're not.'

‘Zest, I know we're not, like — twins. But you and me, we're like — magic!'

He closed his eyes. ‘You wouldn't say that if you knew.'

‘Shit, Zest, knew
what
for God's sake?'

But he shook his head. ‘I can't tell you. You gotta talk to Zach.'

Morven was frustrated and hurt. ‘Who the hell is Zach, anyway?'

‘He's the Mythmaker.'

Well that was helpful — not. ‘What the hell is a Mythmaker?'

But her words fell on air. Zest was on the move. Morven had no choice but to follow. Looked like she was going to have a chat with Zach after all.

Zest gave Morven no opportunity to interrogate him further. He moved at a furious pace, Dog loping easily at his heels. Morven, consumed with both a vague, formless feeling of unease, and raw curiosity, followed.

It didn't take long before they'd crossed the river and entered into the heart of the city. Surrounded by a surging torrent of humanity, it took Morven a few moments to adapt to the overload of sensory information that rushed to her brain. She wasn't utterly comfortable. For now she could tell stuff about people that ordinarily would be hidden. For instance, she knew that the smart, dark-haired woman in the suit was practically pickled in alcohol. And that the young boy holding his mother's hand was sick. Very sick. And she knew that one of the young women they passed was checking out Zest, and that her intentions were not honourable. Not that she planned to tell Zest, of course.

So absorbed was she that Morven barely registered her surrounds, except on a subliminal level. Until a flush of cold air surged out of the automatic doors of a big hotel. Morven stopped, although she wasn't quite sure why. She looked into the great marble and glass foyer. What? What had snagged at her subconscious? Vaguely she heard Zest call her name, but she just couldn't prise herself away. And then she had it. To the left of the lobby was a black grand piano. A glossy, flash affair. But that was not what excited her. Settled on a plush red rug, just to the right of the piano, was a harp. Something shifted and softly subsided in Morven's chest.