Wild (30 page)

The feeling lasted right up until Good Thinking Batman came on stage to set up. Then her stomach flipped and twisted, and the Other whined, anxiety shredding her up. She couldn’t help it. The sight of Nick on stage, plucking his guitar strings with studied moodiness, just ripped at her.

He glanced at the crowd and their eyes met. His widened in surprise, Lizzie knew hers narrowed and sparked red as the wolf peeked out at its creator. Her presence seemed to unbalance Nick; he took a step back as if in retreat, and collided with the drummer, who shoved him half-heartedly and spat something at him. Nick flipped his fingers at the drummer, then set his guitar down on the stage and hopped off, pushing through the crowd to Lizzie.

Fire and ice seared through her, a potent cocktail of anger and dread. What was he going to say? What could he possibly
want
to say now? Behind her, Seth slid his arms round her waist, tugging her back against him in a silent show of support as Nick approached. She felt Seth’s chest vibrate as a soft growl rumbled through him. It occurred to her she might not be the only one who wanted to punch Nick in the face, and the thought made her smile a little.

“What’s this then?” Nick asked when he reached them. “You and your new mates here to gang up on me?”

“Bit paranoid?” Lizzie mocked.

He tapped his foot and rubbed his nose, eyes darting around the room. “What are you doing here then?”

“Can’t we just be having a night out?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were going to be playing, Nick.”

She was aware of other people drifting over to watch the confrontation, strangers as well as other Kurtadam. She stiffened, unsure how they’d react to the Vargulf squaring up to her and Seth, then reminded herself they were in a public place. Human first, wolf second. That was the rule, and that meant nobody was going to get hurt. She hoped.

Ingrid elbowed her way through the press of people to stand next to Lizzie, looking Nick over with cool interest. Her nostrils flared as she took in his scent. “Old friend, Lizzie?” she asked. “Visiting from the gutter, is he?”

Nick shifted his attention to Ingrid and smiled, slow and easy. It chilled Lizzie, because she recognised it. It was wolfish, predatory, and she’d seen it first the night Hannah OD’d. A premonitory shudder ran through her.

“Aren’t you a bit too classy for this?” Nick asked Ingrid, encompassing the whole room with a brief flick of his fingers. “I didn’t think the Kurtadam stooped to mixing with us mongrels.” He glanced at Lizzie. “Although I guess you can be tempted.”

Lizzie scowled, sure she’d been insulted but not quite sure how. “We don’t want to start anything, Nick,” she said.

“I might,” Ingrid cut in, looking from Nick to Seth with a curious expression.

“Ingrid, don’t.” Seth loosened his grip in Lizzie slightly. “This is just supposed to be a night out, okay? No dramatics.”

She tossed her hair and glared at Seth. “Oh, so it’s fine for you to parade your new girlfriend around, but if I like the look of someone, I’m forbidden to do anything about it?”

Nick’s smile grew and he moved closer to Ingrid. Uneasy at this sudden, strange alliance, Lizzie tugged at Seth’s sleeve. “Let them get on with it,” she said. “She can look after herself.”

Seth ran his hands through his hair, looking troubled, but then nodded and moved away, letting Lizzie pull him across the room. The crowd swept in to fill the space as if nothing had happened, and Nick and Ingrid were all but hidden from view.

“Do you think she’s alright?” Seth asked her, like Ingrid was some fragile flower in need of protection.

“What can he do, here?” Lizzie asked, but doubt nibbled at her. Not so much because she thought Ingrid couldn’t look after herself, but because that icy sense of premonition was still with her. She couldn’t shake it, and the Other shared it. Animal instinct, maybe? She stood on tiptoe to spy Ingrid and Nick, heads bowed together. “We’ll keep an eye on them,” she said.

A few minutes later, Nick was back on stage tuning up his guitar, and Ingrid was back at the wall with a couple of the Kurtadam. No danger there. Lizzie relaxed, and she felt Seth do the same. Good Thinking Batman played the same set they had the first time she’d seen them, although she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the music as much. The first time she’d seen them, Nick had been her saviour, her friend and ally in a world gone crazy. Now he was the reason it had gone crazy, and it tainted the music.

Once they were finished, the whole band disappeared backstage, and didn’t return. Lizzie waited expectantly for her stabbing sense of doom to disperse, but it didn’t. She tapped her feet restlessly in time to the thump of her heart, torn between putting it down to paranoia and sharing her bad feeling with Seth.

Around them, people ebbed and flowed, moving between rooms to collect drinks, go for fags or queue for the toilets. She couldn’t see Tai or anyone else they’d come with anymore. She couldn’t see Ingrid either, and that bothered her more than she liked. The constant motion made Lizzie feel like a storm-tossed pebble, helpless and lost, and all her earlier happiness was leaking away, leaving her nervous and sick to her stomach with no idea why.

Did the Other know something she didn’t? Was she tapping into some wolfy knowledge, sensing undercurrents and tensions only a wolf would notice?

“I think we should find everyone else,” she told Seth.

He nodded. “I’ve got a bad feeling. Does that sound really stupid?”

“No. I’ve got the same feeling.” She looked up at him, biting her lip. “Is this the werewolf version of Spidey-sense?”

He laughed, short and without humour. “I think it must be. Come on.” He took her hand and they weaved their way out of the band room into the dim light of the main bar.

She spotted Tai and Nell over at the bar, deep in conversation with a couple of lads, and a few other members of the group were scattered around here and there. No Ingrid though, no Nick.

“Maybe she’s just in the toilets,” she suggested.

“Yeah, I suppose.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking unconvinced.

“Are you more worried about him or her?” she couldn’t help asking, and hated herself for it. Petty, so petty. She couldn’t stop the train of thought though. Was Seth jealous? Did a tiny part of him just hate the idea of Ingrid with someone else? Oh no, that was stupid, she scolded herself. She was not going to be
that
girlfriend. She quashed her jealousy hard and fast.

“I’m just worried,” Seth said. “It’s not like Ingrid can’t take care of herself or anything, but ...”

But, yeah. Lizzie understood without needing more explanation. Nick was trouble, Ingrid was out to wind up Seth, and putting the pair of them together could only end badly.

They went to the bar to ask Tai if she’d seen Ingrid, but Tai shook her head. “Not for a while. She disappeared after the last band. Probably gone to powder her nose.”

Lizzie had a sudden vivid flashback to Hannah convulsing on the floor in the Krazy House toilets, cocaine dusting her nose and mouth, while Nick wrung his hands and Lizzie shouted for help. “What about Nick?” she asked Tai, gripping the other girl’s wrist to impress the seriousness of it all on her. “The bassist from Good Thinking Batman,” she added when Tai looked blank.

“Oh, they’re all about somewhere,” she said, waving around at the Barfly. “I saw the singer over at the pool table.”

Not helpful. Lizzie sighed, trying to tune into that wolf-sense for a clue. The Other wasn’t helpful either though, just as edgy and frustrated as Lizzie. Maybe they were all just overreacting. Seth said it: Ingrid could look after herself. They ought to just get back to enjoying the night and leave her to do whatever she was doing.

Seth seemed to reach the same conclusion, shoulders slumping. “We’re wasting our time.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Lizzie said, rubbing his arm in a vague attempt to be soothing. “I don’t think Nick’s actually dangerous, he’s just a wanker.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He shrugged like he was throwing off a physical weight and turned back to the bar. “Another apple juice?”

She nodded, secretly wishing for something stronger. A good vodka and orange would settle her nerves. And probably crack open all her defences and pave the way for another drink, and then a cigarette, and then what the hell, may as well try for a spliff too, why not?

Just thinking it called the smell of weed to her, soft and heady, and she pushed the sense-memory away with an effort. She’d been having a brilliant night without any drugs until Ingrid and Nick spoiled it.

Then she realised the smell wasn’t a memory, but an actual smell in the room right now. She looked around, wondering who’d managed to sneak their weed past the bouncers, and her gaze fell on the members of Good Thinking Batman, minus Nick. They were huddled in a booth in the far corner, all looking so dodgy and furtive that there was no mistaking the joint they were passing around as anything else.

As if propelled across the room, Lizzie headed for their booth, leaving Seth yelling at the barman, trying to make himself heard over the din in the room. When she reached their table, the band looked up as one. Kind of eerie, until her eyes adjusted to the low lighting in this corner and she saw their uniform looks of guilt.

“Alright,” Lizzie said brightly. “I love your band. I come to all your gigs! Where’s Nick?”

They all relaxed in unison. “Thanks,” the pink-haired guitarist, Daisy, Lizzie recalled, answered. “Always nice to meet a fan! Want a toke?” She offered Lizzie the spliff.

The Other liked the smell of weed. So did Lizzie. For a second she was tempted, but she gritted her teeth and shook her head. “No, I’m good, thanks. So… is Nick still here?”

“He went out back with some groupie,” one of the lads said dismissively. “I don’t know why the girls always go for him, he’s such a moody git.”

“Was the groupie tall and blonde?” Lizzie asked, jumping as someone came up behind her. Seth, so close to her she could feel his body heat like a line of fire down her spine.

“Yeah, she had really nice shoes,” Daisy said, eyes glazing over as if the memory of Ingrid’s shoes was just too much to take.

Lizzie looked over her shoulder at Seth. “Do you think we should go look for them?”

She could see him turning the decision over in his mind, perhaps deciding how much he really cared, wondering if maybe Nick and Ingrid were just sharing a quick, lusty snog in the dark. “We should check,” he said finally, reluctantly. “Then we can stop worrying about it.”

She nodded and they left the bar, slipping outside to look for Nick and Ingrid.

twenty five

W
AS IT
L
IZZIE’S
imagination, or did the night feel thick and threatening? Full of shadows and danger. The Other went on guard the second they stepped onto the street, bristling at every sound and movement. And there was a torrent of both; Seel Street was lined with people who’d braved the cold and wind for a cigarette. Further up from the Barfly, a few more clubs had opened, throwing neon light and drum n’ bass out into the night. There was no sign of Nick or Ingrid.

“I can smell him,” Seth said, inhaling deeply.

Lizzie did the same, and under the odour of beer and chips topped with curry sauce, she found Nick’s scent. Wolfy, weedy, unwashed. She grimaced and searched for Ingrid’s perfume, that sickly flowers-and-fruit scent. “I can smell Ingrid too.”

Seth wavered. “What if they’re just off having a quick grope somewhere?” he muttered. “She’s done this before – picked up some random guy to make me angry or get some attention.”

“Nick’s idea of fun is getting high and tormenting ghouls,” Lizzie pointed out, amazed to find herself in the position of the sensible, practical one. “Even if they have just gone off to make out, I think we should check. It’s a Friday night, town’s packed, and if Nick does something stupid, there’ll be plenty of people to see it.” She attempted a joke, sure it fell flat. “They might make Wolf Watch, and Ingrid would never live that down.”

He nodded. “Right.” He took her hand and they followed the trail of musk and perfume down a side alley, past a bin full of empty bottles and discarded kebabs, to the back of the Barfly. It was a small, bricked-off area, barely big enough for the fire exit and the thick black rubbish bags strewn around. Ingrid and Nick’s scents were almost lost in the stench of rotten food, sour beer, and cigarettes, but Lizzie didn’t need to smell them anymore anyway, because there they were, lit by the lights of the bars and takeaway shops surrounding them. Pressed up against the wall, Ingrid’s arms round Nick’s neck, his hands sliding up and down her back, kissing and nuzzling and laughing low and wicked.

Lizzie’s stomach clenched and relaxed. There, see, nothing to worry about. Just another random lad she’d picked up to make Seth angry. She glanced up at Seth to see if it had worked. Hard to tell. His face was shuttered, eyes dark. He squeezed her hand.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s leave them to it.” There was an edge in his voice. Disappointment, maybe, or anger. It made her uneasy, sent a spurt of anger through her, aimed mostly at Nick. Why him? Why tonight, when she was feeling good and life was normal, or something close anyway. She wanted to shout, let loose the frustration churning in her gut.