The Abused Werewolf Rescue Group (30 page)

‘Forrest Darwell.’

‘Him. Right.’

‘Wait – wait just a minute,’ Mum broke in, urgently flapping her hands to slow us down. She was being bombarded by too many unwelcome chunks of information. ‘Toby, listen to yourself. Do you realise what you’re saying? You’re saying that your paediatrician is involved in some kind of
international conspiracy.
Doesn’t that seem a little farfetched to you?’

‘Nope,’ Reuben said bluntly, before I could speak. ‘Illegal werewolf fighting is a global industry worth millions of dollars. As long as it exists, your son is in danger.’ He narrowed his eyes as Mum pursed her lips. ‘Whaddaya think we’re doing here, for God’s sake?’ he exploded. ‘We’re trying to stop all the abuse and the exploitation!’

‘All right, all right . . .’ Mum wasn’t about to start throwing punches. She tried to calm things down a bit. ‘Let’s say that’s true—’

‘It
is
true!’ Reuben spat.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Then why don’t you just go to the police?’

There was a momentary pause. Everyone else exchanged longsuffering glances. Then we all began talking at once.

‘We can’t go to the police,’ I told her.

‘People
hate
werewolves,’ Sergio insisted.

‘You want Toby on some official werewolf register? How safe would he be then?’ asked Reuben. ‘D’you think your neighbours would want a werewolf living down the street?’

‘He’d never be able to get any kind of insurance, love,’ was Estelle’s contribution. ‘And he’d spend the rest of his life on rental blacklists.’

‘People would try to kill him.’ (That was Reuben, again.) ‘Or do medical research on him.’

‘And if the police find out about Toby, then they’ll find out about Nina,’ Estelle concluded. ‘Which would be a nightmare, believe me. When it comes to bad press, vampires are even worse off than werewolves.’

Poor old Mum. This furious barrage left her reeling; she just sat there for a moment with a stunned expression on her face. Perhaps she would have recovered, eventually. Perhaps she would have thought of something clever to say, if we hadn’t suddenly heard Gary’s bedroom door creak open.

Listening hard, I could make out a cough, a sniff, a grunt, and the scrape of dragging footsteps. But Gary’s strangled gasps were no longer audible.

‘Sanford?’ Reuben said sharply. ‘Are you there?’

‘Don’t come out,’ Dr Plackett warned, in a weak little voice. ‘Just stay where you are.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ Dr Plackett heaved a sigh. ‘It’s done.’

Reuben caught his breath. Everyone else in the bathroom stiffened.

‘Did it work?’ Reuben asked. ‘Is he any better?’

‘I don’t know. It’s too early to tell.’ After a moment, the doctor admitted, ‘His breathing has improved.’

‘Okay. Well . . . good.’ Reuben seemed more amazed than pleased. ‘So what happens now?’

‘Now we’ll take Barry back downstairs,’ said Dr Plackett. At which point Barry himself spoke up, loudly and aggressively.

‘I don’t wanna go downstairs! I’m fine! I promise!’

‘No, you aren’t,’ Dr Plackett replied.

‘I won’t
do
anything!’

‘Sorry. We can’t take the risk.’ After another short silence, the doctor said, ‘Go on. Move.’

‘No,’ snarled Barry.

Reuben grimaced. He adjusted his grip on the rifle; I think he wanted to rush out and stick it in Barry’s face. Before he could even reach for the doorknob, however, Dr Plackett wearily remarked, ‘If you don’t move right now, Barry, I’ll stick you so full of drugs that you won’t be
able
to move. Not for a week at least.’ And this threat must have done the trick, because Dr Plackett aimed his next set of instructions straight at the bathroom door. ‘I’ll be back directly, all right? Reuben? Don’t come out till I secure Gary. He’s been infected, so he’s not safe. You’d be risking an attack.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Reuben’s tone was bored and impatient. ‘Like he’ll really leap out of bed and fang someone.’ When the doctor said nothing, Reuben squashed himself against the door. ‘Hello? Are you there? Sanford?’

‘Nina?’ Estelle butted in, raising her voice. ‘
Are you all right, Nina?
’

‘I’m fine,’ Nina affirmed, from somewhere out in the hallway. She didn’t sound fine, though. She sounded as if she were going to be sick. ‘We’re both fine. Don’t worry.’

‘Nina—’

‘I’ll be back in a second, Mum.’

And that was that. Inside the bathroom, everyone listened to three sets of feet slowly moving out of earshot. At last Estelle said glumly, ‘Another bloody vampire.’

‘Another bloody
dickhead
vampire,’ Reuben amended. ‘Like we don’t have enough in the group already.’ He squinted at me through a curtain of tangled hair and said, ‘Do you actually know anything about this guy? Like where he lives, or if he’s got family . . .?’

‘Gary, you mean?’ When Reuben nodded, I shrugged. ‘He’s a bastard.’

‘Yeah, but apart from that.’

‘He hates his ex-wife,’ Sergio piped up. ‘He wants to kill her.’

Estelle gave a snort. ‘That figures,’ she rasped.

‘He knows people in Melbourne,’ Sergio continued. ‘And he used to sell drugs. I heard him telling Lincoln about it.’

‘A real thug, in other words.’ Estelle shook her head. ‘God knows, the McKinnons are bad enough. Nina’s always complaining about the way they carry on at group meetings. But now she’ll have to put up with
this
nasty piece of work . . .’

Estelle trailed off, still shaking her head. I couldn’t help it; I had to ask.

‘There are meetings?’ I said. ‘What kind of meetings?’

‘Oh, you know. Group therapy sessions. That kind of thing.’

‘For
vampires?
’

My tone made her cross. ‘It’s not easy being a vampire,’ she snapped. ‘
You
try living with a chronic illness forever and ever.’

‘Vampires have a harder time than we do,’ Reuben was forced to concede. ‘But now that we’ve got the numbers, we could probably start our own group. For werewolves only. That’s if Father Ramon wants to pitch in and help—’

‘
I
think he should start a second Reformed Vampire Support Group,’ Estelle interrupted. ‘Just for the hardcore villains. So decent types like Nina and Dave don’t have to put up with people who ought to be in gaol.’

Reuben sniffed. Mum said softly, ‘
You’re
the ones who ought to be in gaol.’ I flashed her a disapproving look while Sergio shifted uncomfortably in the bath.

‘When’s that doctor gunna come back and fix me up?’ he whined. ‘Me and Toby, we’ve been waiting for
hours.
It won’t be much longer, will it?’

If he was trying to make everyone feel guilty, he certainly succeeded. Mum bit her lip. Estelle hunched her shoulders. Reuben took a deep breath and pushed his hair out of his eyes, like someone about to make an apology.

But he never got to speak. Because at that very instant, we heard the muffled sound of gunshots.

bang! bang!

There was a short break, then another three shots:
bang! bang! bang!

By the time the sixth (and last) shot was fired, Reuben had already yanked open the bathroom door.

M
y injured ankle
slowed me down. By the time I reached the kitchen door, everyone else was way ahead of me. Reuben and Sergio had already plunged into the basement. Even Estelle had arrived at the top of the stairs.

‘
Nina!
’ she squawked. ‘
What happened? Nina?
’

She was barely audible above all the shouts and screams and thumps. Someone was bellowing like an animal below us. Nina was squealing. Reuben was firing off orders; I couldn’t quite hear what they were. A hoarse voice was begging, ‘Get him off! Get him off!’

Estelle began to clump downstairs. Mum hovered behind her, ducking and weaving in an effort to see was going on. ‘
Stay back!
’ cried Dr Plackett. He must have been yelling at Estelle, because she stopped suddenly, her chin level with the kitchen floor.

‘What happened to you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Where’s Nina?’

No one replied. But in the clamour that followed I could just make out Nina’s frantic pleading, which was muffled and indistinct.

Mum clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes widening.

‘What is it?’ I demanded, limping towards her. Estelle wouldn’t budge. Reuben’s voice cut through all the commotion, strong and loud and urgent despite the fact that he was somewhere underground. ‘I’ve got ’im! Quick! Hurry! Move!’ The sound of moaning sent a chill down my spine.

‘Did – did somebody get shot?’ I asked. ‘Mum? What’s going on?’

‘He’s hurt,’ she whispered.

‘Who is?’

‘That doctor. He was holding his eye.’

‘Where?’ I couldn’t see. Estelle was blocking my view. All at once, however, she began to retreat, backing up the stairs as a small knot of people advanced towards us both.

I flinched when I realised that one of these people was Lincoln.

‘Oh my God,’ Mum quavered.

I’ll never forget what Lincoln looked like. He was hanging between Nina and Sergio, his legs dragging as he pressed a crumpled sheet to his bleeding neck. His white shirt was drenched in blood; his trousers were stained and dusty; his grey hair was like a dirty old mop above his drawn, yellowish face.

I’ve seen less mangled things peeled off the side of the road.

‘Who – how—?’ Mum stammered.

Sergio ignored her. ‘It was Danny,’ he told me, goggle-eyed.

‘Huh?’ I said.

‘Danny
bit
him! He tried to rip his throat out!’

‘Oh my God,’ Mum repeated. I didn’t say anything. My mouth was too dry.

Nina started to move again, lurching along under the weight of Lincoln’s right arm. She was ashen, dishevelled, and shaking like a leaf.

‘Are you all right?’ her mother wanted to know. ‘Nina? Are you hurt?’

Nina shook her head. As Sergio hauled Lincoln over to the nearest chair, she struggled to keep up. Lincoln was moaning again. The instant his butt hit the seat, Nina disentangled herself. She withdrew to the farthest corner of the kitchen.

‘Psychopath,’ Lincoln muttered thickly. ‘Oh, Christ . . .’

I was still trying to absorb Sergio’s announcement. It didn’t make sense to me.

‘
Danny
bit him?’ I’d been assuming that Barry was responsible. ‘But I thought Danny was out to lunch. Why would he suddenly go for Lincoln?’

When Nina answered, she spoke in the tight, rapid, creaky voice of someone who was trying not to breathe.

‘Because Lincoln shot Danny,’ she said.

Everyone froze. ‘He
what?
’ That was Estelle. Mum nearly fainted. I thought,
This can’t be happening.

Down in the basement, silence had fallen.

‘Is he – is he—?’ I couldn’t finish. Sergio gaped at Nina.

‘Danny was
shot
?’ he yelped. ‘But how could . . .? I mean, he wasn’t even . . .’

‘He didn’t seem to mind,’ Nina admitted brokenly. She was still holding her breath.

‘He was gnawing on Lincoln like a beaver,’ Sergio informed the rest of us, in amazement. ‘Reuben had to jump him from behind.’ Turning back to Nina, he said, ‘Are you
sure
Danny got shot? It didn’t look like he was even hurt. Maybe Lincoln missed him.’

‘I saw it,’ Nina replied, her face crumpling. Then she slapped a hand across her mouth. ‘I can’t stay in here,’ she bleated. ‘The blood – it’s too much for me . . .’

‘But what happened?’ Estelle asked the question before I could. ‘Where’s Barry?’

‘He’s locked up. We put him in Danny’s cell.’ Nina was edging towards the doorway as she mumbled into her hand. ‘We thought it would be safer, and it was. They didn’t go for each other. I don’t think Danny even knew what was happening.’

Estelle frowned. ‘Then—’

‘Then we took Danny and put him in Lincoln’s cell. I left Danny standing near the door. I was pointing the gun at Lincoln while he was being marched into the stairwell.’ Nina’s voice began to wobble. ‘He was passing me – Lincoln was – and he made a grab for the gun. I don’t know if he meant to pull the trigger, but he did. And when Sanford tried to stop him, he punched him in the eye . . .’

Lincoln groaned.

‘. . . and Sanford collapsed, and Lincoln tried to run, but Danny was in the way, and he – I mean Lincoln – he just – he just—’

Nina broke down.

‘Shot Danny?’ Sergio finished.

‘In the chest!’ Nina wailed. Then she bolted from the room.

Estelle sat down heavily. I could hear someone climbing the basement steps:
thump, thump, thump.
Lincoln looked as if he was going to pass out.

I reached for one of the empty chairs, just in case. Since there was no telling who might be trudging towards us, I needed
some
kind of weapon.

‘In the chest?’ Mum croaked. ‘God help us . . .’

‘Yeah, but that’s impossible,’ Sergio countered. ‘You don’t get shot in the chest and then power on like a steamroller.’

‘
Who’s that?
’ Estelle was loudly addressing the person on the stairs. ‘
Is that you, Sanford?
’

‘It’s me,’ said Reuben. His head suddenly appeared, closely followed by the rest of him. ‘Don’t worry. It’s only me.’

‘Where’s Sanford?’

‘He’s coming.’ Poor Reuben was so tired he could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Nevertheless, when his gaze fell on Lincoln, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. ‘We’ve gotta get
this
guy
under lock and key right now,’ he declared. ‘God knows what’ll happen otherwise.’

‘Did he really shoot Danny?’ Sergio asked.

Reuben swallowed. Then he nodded. Then he moved towards Lincoln.

‘But I
saw
Danny!’ Sergio protested. ‘He was on this guy like a dog on a bone! He was like a wild animal!’

‘Right. And now he’s standing there like he never got hurt.’ Reuben grasped Lincoln’s arm, still talking to Sergio. ‘Danny was fanged, okay? He’s a vampire now. You can’t kill a vampire with a bullet.’

‘Can’t you?’ This was news to me. After everything I’d been told by Estelle, I found it hard to believe that vampires had any kind of stamina at all. ‘You mean they really
are
invincible?’

‘Immortal. Not invincible,’ Estelle corrected. ‘If Nina got shot, she’d be on her back till the end of time. A bullet wouldn’t kill her, but it would do a lot of damage.’

‘Yeah,’ said Reuben, as he dragged Lincoln to his feet. ‘Christ, remember what happened when Barry tried to brush his teeth with toothpaste? How many teeth did he lose? Not to mention all those blisters . . .’

‘Auugh.’ Lincoln staggered. He dropped the sheet that he’d been using to staunch his own blood.

I stooped to pick it up again, grudgingly. No one, I felt sure, wanted to look at Lincoln’s ragged neck wound. I certainly didn’t.

‘So what’s the deal with Danny, then?’ Sergio wanted to know. ‘How come
he’s
so different?’

‘Beats me.’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Ask Sanford. He’s on his way up now.’

It was true. I could hear someone else slowly mounting the stairs. And I thought,
What about Danny?

‘I need to lock this one in the bathroom, quick smart,’ Reuben continued, steering Lincoln towards the corridor. It wasn’t easy, though. Lincoln was a dead weight; he could hardly walk. And Reuben had only one free hand, because the other was occupied with his rifle.

‘Nina’s in the bathroom,’ Estelle warned him. ‘She’s being sick.’

‘Then she’ll have to be sick somewhere else. This guy could get his second wind any minute, and I don’t want anyone else getting fanged.’

Estelle screwed up her nose.

‘You think
he’s
been infected?’ she queried, cocking her head at Lincoln.

Once again, Reuben shrugged. But he didn’t say a word.

‘Vampires
bite
people,’ Estelle pointed out. ‘They don’t tear chunks off ’em. This doesn’t seem right to me . . .’

‘It’s not,’ said Dr Plackett. He had finally emerged from the stairwell, tottering a little. His left eye-socket was already a strange, greenish-grey colour. ‘Something else is going on here. Something I haven’t encountered before.’

‘Like what?’ Reuben asked. Dr Plackett didn’t answer immediately. Instead he collapsed onto the nearest vacant chair, which I’d just put down. Then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

‘Sanford? Are you going to vomit?’ Estelle inquired.

The doctor shook his head.

‘Are you sure? Because if you are, you should do it in the sink.’

‘I’m all right.’ He opened his eyes. ‘Just give me a minute. I’ll be fine in a minute.’

‘What about Danny?’ I couldn’t keep silent any longer. ‘Is
he
going to be all right?’

Dr Plackett’s gaze flicked towards me. After a brief pause, he muttered, ‘That’s a good question. I honestly don’t know. All I can do is monitor his condition.’

‘But he’s been
shot!
’ Mum exclaimed. ‘He needs surgery!’

Dr Plackett sighed. He began to massage the bridge of his nose. ‘Mrs Vandevelde,’ he said, with barely suppressed impatience, ‘surgery would be useless. You don’t perform surgery on a dead man.’ Before the rest of us could do more than gasp in horror, he added, ‘The fact that Danny’s still upright suggests that something is seriously amiss. Even a vampire wouldn’t be standing up after a shot through the heart, and I’m not even sure if Danny
is
a vampire.’

‘But he was fanged!’ Estelle cut in. ‘He’s got to be a vampire if he was fanged!’

‘Not necessarily.’ Seeing her open her mouth again, Dr Plackett lifted his hand. ‘So far, Danny hasn’t exhibited any of the normal transformation behaviours.’

‘Because he’s a werewolf?’ Sergio proposed.

‘It’s possible.’

Reuben frowned. ‘You think werewolves react differently when they’re infected?’ he asked, just as Nina appeared on the threshold. She was so weak that she had to lean against a doorjamb. Nevertheless, Dr Plackett said to her, ‘Ah. Good. You’re back.’ He nodded at Lincoln. ‘This fellow here has to be stitched up. In the bathroom. I’ll need your help.’

‘That’s okay,’ Reuben offered, when he saw Nina’s expression. ‘I’ll stand guard. Nina’s not well enough.’

‘No.’ The doctor was adamant. He stood up and shuffled over to his medical bag, which was sitting on the table. ‘I don’t want any uninfected people nearby. It’s too risky. After seeing what Danny did, I’m not about to stick a suture into this fellow here without taking precautions.’

‘But you just told us that Danny’s not a vampire,’ Estelle objected. ‘How could this bloke be infected if Danny’s not a vampire?’

‘Yeah,’ Reuben agreed, prodding Lincoln’s shoulder. ‘And he hasn’t been
acting
like someone who’s just been infected. He hasn’t puked. He hasn’t passed out . . .’

‘And he hasn’t been acting like Danny did, either,’ Sergio interposed. ‘I mean, he can still talk and everything.’

‘Look, I
don’t know
what’s going on!’ the doctor snapped. ‘And I won’t know until I’ve got more data! I’ll have to monitor Danny. I’ll have to monitor the other two. In the meantime, there are more urgent matters to address – like that neck wound, for instance.’ He gestured at Lincoln. ‘There’s also Sergio’s arm, and Toby’s foot . . . I might even give you a shot for that dog bite, Toby. Just in case.’

To be honest, I’d almost forgotten about the dog bite. It had merged into my general sense of misery. ‘Oh! Sure. Whatever,’ I said.

‘And when I’ve done all that,’ he went on, turning to my mum, ‘I’m going to ask if you’d take these two boys back to Cobar, Mrs Vandevelde. So you’ll be out of harm’s way.’ Glancing at his watch, he concluded, ‘It’s not even ten yet – with any luck some of the pubs will still be open, and you’ll be able to get a couple of rooms for the night.’

Mum stared at him. It was Reuben who said, ‘And then what?’

‘Then we’ll play it by ear. We might have to stay here another forty-eight hours or so, until our three casualties have stabilised.’

‘Not without guinea pigs,’ Estelle warned. ‘There are no more guinea pigs, remember?’

Dr Plackett gave a grunt. I thought I must have missed something. Or had I fallen asleep? Was this all a fragmented nightmare? Were the chairs about to grow wings and fly off?