Werewolf Parallel (4 page)

Ok
, thought Cameron,
a stone lion has stone drool. That makes a mad sort of sense
.

Morgan tensed. He was checking out the exits, gauging whether they could make it past the lion and
onto the train, or off the platform and along the rails, or back through the station. With a slight shake of his head, he indicated now was not the time to run. Cameron silently agreed; they had no idea of the speed and agility of the creature. If its temperament was anything like that of a domestic cat, a sudden move might even cause it to pounce…

Better try and bluff it out.

“We’re here to see Janus. You’ve got to let us on the train.” Cameron spoke with a conviction he didn’t really possess. “We need to get a new ward to protect our house –”

“And the girl-woman needs a heart, and your dog-friend could use a brain. Tell someone who cares.” The lion yawned, letting more pebble-drool hail down. “Janus won’t see just anyone. I can’t let every random board the January Express.” Its chest puffed importantly. “There’s got to be a limiting factor – and that’s me.”

“The Limiting Lion?” Morgan gave a crooked grin. “Catchy name.”

“It’s not my name, it’s a job description!”
the lion roared. A fresh torrent of stone drool cascaded from its jaws, rolling like marbles across the ground. “And it’s better than my sister got, abandoned underwater for 2000 years, so have a care! I’m a creature of importance!”

Cameron swiftly drew from his pocket the cracked disc they’d found in the attic. He held it up, acutely aware his reach extended only to the base of the lion’s chest. “Look – Janus’s token. This is his magic, his name – that must give me some rights?”

“This is his sigil, certainly. But are you the ‘Isobel Ives’ named?” The lion lowered its muzzle and peered.
The close scrutiny of its eyes was unnerving – Cameron could hear the tiny grinding sounds they made as they shifted about in their marble sockets. “You look like a man cub to me. Perhaps I should eat you anyway, and be done.”

“I’m her grandson,” Cameron said forcefully. “Her only living relative. That means the token rightfully passes to me. You’ve got to respect that!”

The lion’s paw lifted and Cameron instinctively ducked, but it was reaching for its nose. After what felt like an eternity – in which its claws made a horrendous scraping sound – the lion straightened.

“You can board.” Its attention shifted to Morgan and Eve. “I’ll eat these two instead.”

“Make that starters only.” Morgan snaked a hand down his neck, snagging a leather cord, and pulled up a yellowed ivory disc. “You see this? It’s a bone-debt, yeah? Between Janus and my pack.” He spun the disc, dangling it in front of the lion. Scratched crudely on one side was a crescent shape; the reverse had the now-familiar two-faced silhouette. “Debts have to be paid.” He cast a sympathetic glance at Eve. “Sorry, no sense us both ending up lion-chow, is there?”

“Thanks so
much
,” said Eve.

The lion emitted a drawn-out gravelly sound that might’ve been a sigh. “Yes. This is valid. It dates from the Old Time, the glory days of Rome; I can scent it. You may pass.”

Morgan edged around the lion and joined Cameron in the doorway of the train.

“What about Eve?” Cameron hissed.

“I don’t know, do I?”

There was a whistle scream, a
shush
of steam, and the engine began to send up fresh clouds of smoke.

“Two aboard, and the train’s about to go. That leaves you.” The lion eyed Eve. “Barely a snack.”

“So why bother?” Eve’s chin stuck out, although the tremor in her voice betrayed her anxiety. “You shouldn’t eat between meals, that’s what I’ve heard –”

“Thanks for the advice, but I think I will. You looked the most delicious anyway.” With the casual grace of a predator, the lion began to amble towards her.

“Do something!” Cameron shouted.

“Like what, exactly?” Morgan shrugged wildly. “I don’t want her to get munched any more than you, but right now I’m out of plans!”

“We’ve got to try!” Cameron dashed toward the cat, charging at its flank, trying to shove it off course. Smashing into its stone bulk felt exactly like running into a wall. The creature didn’t shift at all.

“Mmm, satisfying,” said the lion. “Perhaps your friend could scritch my other side, even me out?” Another whistle-blast sounded and, with a groan of metal, the steam engine began to pull out from the station.

Eve was backing away as fast as she could. Her feet skittered on a patch of drool-marbles, and for a moment she seemed to moonwalk, then she toppled backwards onto the platform. The lion was almost on top of her.

Cameron’s eyes widened. An image had shot into his head, of a vast wardrobe his dad once moved. It had seemed unshiftable, wedged into the corner of a room, but his dad had tipped the wardrobe back on one edge and handed Cameron some ball-bearings to slide underneath. Once in place, they’d been able to
roll
it…

“With me! Morgan!”

He raced to the creature’s rear as the wolf-boy joined him. “When I say ‘now’, shove as hard as you can!”

“Wha–?”

“Don’t argue – just push!” Cameron shouted. “Eve – you’ve gotta roll
fast
, away from the platform’s edge!”

Tucking her arms in, the girl spun towards the station.

“NOW!”

Cameron and Morgan slammed their full weight into the creature’s rump.

With a crunching sound the huge beast slid, its flat stone feet rolling helplessly on its own patch of marble drool. Its blank eyes bulged as it slipped and skittered. Gaining pace, it trundled forward, crashing headfirst off the platform and onto the tracks with an almighty yowl.

“That – was – amazing!” Eve gasped. “You’re a genius!”

“Never mind that, come on!” Morgan gestured towards the engine that was now gathering speed, pulling away from the platform. “We’ve got a train to catch!”

They leapt aboard just as the train passed the far end of the platform, and collapsed into the carriage in a heap. Cameron struggled to his feet, took hold of a convenient railing, and leaned out into the rushing air to slam the door.

“Still glad you came?”

“Definitely.” Eve gave a small smile. “I’ve decided it’s invigorating, almost being eaten alive.”

“I’ll remember you said that.”

The inside of the carriage was unlike any Cameron had ever seen before. There were no rows of seats. Instead, the space had been decked out to look like the garden of a Mediterranean villa. Corinthian pillars stretched from mosaic floor to ceiling, marking out a courtyard that contained a pond and low marble benches. Grapevines straggled round the windows, beyond which the strange Human/Daemon mash-up of the Parallel rolled by with increasing speed. The air smelled of dry earth and honey.

A hard, abrasive sensation prompted Cameron to look down. A white kitten was winding its way round his legs. He touched its head, and found it was cold.

It stared up with empty eyes, and
miaowed
lustily.

“Great. Another stone moggie.” Morgan bared his
teeth. “Go away!”

“Pay no attention,” a voice said airily. “He’s on the mooch for peacock hearts again. He’s had plenty, the beastly little horror.”

“Although, what is it they say?” a second voice added in ominous tones. “A raw heart a day – keeps the physician away?”

“Oh shush. Stop trying to scare our guests,” continued the first. “They’ve had enough of an ordeal, poor dears, getting past that self-important guardian.”

“And yet that shall be as nothing,” said the sinister voice, “compared to the trials that are to come.”

A tapestry curtain parted. Standing in the doorway to the next carriage was a tall, muscular man dressed in a flowing toga. Curled dark hair framed broad shoulders and a most peculiar head: one set of eyes, nose and mouth pointed left, and a second, equally distinguished set of features pointed in the opposite direction.

“You’ve got two faces,” said Eve. She clapped a hand to her mouth.

Morgan raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”

“Well, I didn’t know, did I?” she hissed. “I thought the image on the ward was symbolic…”

“Yes, dear,” said the face on the left, not unkindly. “We do. It goes with the job –”

“With the Godhood of Portals, more accurately,” said the face on the right. “We see everything that comes and goes –”

“All life’s little entrances and exits!”

“For I look wearily to the past,” right sighed, “and am filled with regret.”

“Whereas I look to the future,” said left, “and am
delighted by possibility.”

There was a blur and Janus’s head spun: the curly hair somehow remaining static while the dual faces exchanged sides.

“Or is it,” said the face now on the left, “that I look to the past, with fond remembrance?”

“And I look to the future, with apprehension and terror?” said right. “We’re not going to tell! Believe me, darlings, we’ve tried prophecy. It doesn’t end well.”

“He’s like a double act,” Cameron muttered out the corner of his mouth, “but in one body.”

Morgan gave his head a tiny shake. “He’s no joker.”

The stone kitten mewed delightedly and ran over to Janus, who dug in a pouch hanging from his toga and produced a black, withered-looking object that he threw to the ground. The kitten seized it and slunk away under the benches.

“Monster!” said both faces together, with great affection. Their blue eyes turned back to the visitors. “And who has come to call on us today? Romulus and Remus, surely?”

Cameron looked blank and Morgan shrugged.

“Two wolf-boys at any rate, if my four eyes do not deceive. Whatever can they want with little old me?” Janus gestured to the marble benches, then turned to an alcove containing an amphora and some carved goblets. “You will join me in a libation?”

“Am I just invisible or something?” Eve, who’d been looking increasingly irritable, coughed loudly. “Or is this another boys’ club I don’t get to join?”

Janus’s back stiffened. The lights flickered, and for a moment the
tackata-tackata
sound of the train’s progress
seemed to falter. The stone kitten yowled and darted to the far end of the carriage.

“Ah yes. The girl whose brain and body are different ages… even if her mind is fast catching up,” the first voice mused. The second continued in harsher tones, “She should take care her mouth doesn’t run away with her. We could so easily
show her the door
.”

One of the carriage windows faded, the glass being replaced by plain wooden boards and a dented brass handle. Its outline narrowed then stretched downwards until it reached the floor. The newly formed door creaked ajar, letting in cold damp-smelling air.

“An exit.” Janus poured dark red liquid into the goblets. “If you want.”

“Eve, be careful,” Cameron urged. He eyed the doorway, wondering which sinister daemonic dimension it might lead to. “Don’t annoy the, um, God. You don’t know what he can do…”

“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” She marched up to the tall figure in the toga and inclined her head. “Forgive me, Janus. I didn’t mean to be impatient –”

“But you are impatient, aren’t you?” The train shook as the wheels skipped another beat on the tracks. “Your friends carry the symbols of my wardship and my debt – they have rights. What about you?”

“Me? I’m just along for the ride… No, that’s not correct. I’m…” Eve’s brow furrowed. “I’m here because I chose to be. Because my home is in danger too. I wanted to come.”

“All journeys begin with a choice. Where you end up, what happens
en route
– that is less predictable. For you, at least.” Janus turned back to the room, a thin smile starting
on his left face and spreading rightwards. He handed Eve a goblet from a cloth-covered tray. “We forgive your impudence. We have a certain… sympathy for your nature.” His right face continued, more gently, “It’s not easy to be more than one thing at once, is it? But it’s more common than you might think.”

The atmosphere in the room seemed to clear as Janus put the tray down on the bench, and handed out two further goblets. Morgan sniffed at his dubiously.

Cameron, who’d learned to be cautious accepting food and drink on the Parallel, waited a discrete interval before setting his down. “Janus, you seem to know exactly why we’re here –”

“Past. Future. Insight.” Janus waved a hand. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

“So I’m going to get straight to the point,” said Cameron. “Will you help?”

“Replace the ward? No.” Janus leaned forward and whipped the cloth from the tray. A stone dagger nestled on a satin cushion. “Not unless you pay.”

“Pay how?” said Cameron, acutely aware all eyes in the carriage were now fixed on the knife.

“Well… what do you think such powerful magic would be worth?” Janus ran his finger along the blade, while the tongue in his left mouth described an equally languid route along his teeth. His right face gave Cameron a direct look. “Come now… I am a Roman God after all. You can’t ask for help without a sacrifice.”

Cameron’s mouth twitched in disgust. “Me and Morgan – and Eve too – we’re good at finding things. Anything you want from the Human World or the Parallel, we’re the guys who could get it. But not that. I’d
never hurt anyone.” He stood up and beckoned to his friends. “We shouldn’t have come.”

“Pity,” said Janus. “Your grandmother came better prepared.”

Cameron closed his eyes. “I’m not her.”

“You lack her courage.”

“He really doesn’t,” said Morgan, moving to stand by Cameron’s side. “He’s just not barking mad.”

“Where does the train stop?” Eve added brightly. “I think we should be going.”

For a long moment there was only the clack of wheels on rails, then Janus clapped his hands and laughed. “But my dears! The journey isn’t over! There’s still the matter of my debt to the wolves. I
insist
upon clearing it.”

Morgan hesitated, but Cameron nodded. “Go on. What’ve we got to lose?”

The larger boy dug out the bone medallion and handed it over.

“A long time since I gave this away! Granted to the Were-brothers who founded Ancient Rome, in exchange for Temple rights. No wonder I saw them in you.” Janus studied the disc, lost in remembrance. “Someone values you highly, wolf-boy, to entrust you with this.”

Cameron frowned, wondering how Morgan had managed to scavenge it from the pack, but Morgan just scratched his hair.

“What can I say? I’m lovable.”

“You will both follow me to the inner sanctum.” Janus held one hand aloft and processed in stately strides towards the doorway that led to the next carriage. “Eve may rest here and enjoy the delights of the garden. I grant her full use of it.” His second, snarkier voice
filtered back through the tapestry curtain.
“Don’t feed the cat!”

As the curtain fluttered closed, Eve let out a long breath. “Well… he was very predictable and reassuring, wasn’t he?”

“I revise my earlier description,” said Cameron. “He must be God of Mood Swings as well.”

“Not so loud, he might hear you.” She shot a glance at the tapestry, then turned her attention to the panelled doorway Janus had conjured up. “I wonder where he was going to banish me?”

“Thrown to the marble lions, I expect.” Morgan gave a mirthless grin. “You ok, kid?”

“Fine. You two better go, before he changes his mind.”

The junction between the carriages was open, exposed to the air. Cameron gingerly stepped over the swaying gangway. The room beyond was dim, lit by candles in ornate holders. The roof vanished into the distance, and the space seemed larger than could possibly fit inside a railway carriage. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw the faint outlines of doors floating in the murky atmosphere – doors of every imaginable shape, size and description.

“What is this place?” he said, watching the drifting shapes.

“The Temple of the Door, of course.” Janus threw himself onto a golden couch. “Or a portable version of it at least. The original is long lost.”

“It’s huge!”

“I borrow the space from human hallways. They’re another part of my domain: all those doors, you see. No one ever seems to notice, even when they start tripping
over shoes and umbrellas…” One Janus face gave a self-satisfied grin. The other looked exasperated, and said, “To business. Though I won’t grant the ward, if you cancel my debt, I can give you something much more useful.”

Morgan folded his arms. “Ward’s pretty useful. What’s better?”

In answer, Janus reached up, his hand cupped above his head. From every corner of the chamber the floating door outlines rushed and jostled towards him, clustering to touch his outstretched fingers. Suddenly he snatched, as if catching a moth, and the doors vanished into smoke. “I offer you this.” He lowered his fist and opened it, revealing something small and shiny on his palm.

“A key,” said Cameron. “An ordinary house key…”

“No. It’s
every
key, distilled from the essence of every door. The Omniclavis! There isn’t a lock it won’t open, not anywhere in the worlds.” Janus held out his hands, the Omniclavis in one, the bone debt in the other. “Well, what’s it to be?”

Morgan’s eyes shone green. “I reckon we take it. More use than a mouldy old bone…”

“Then the deal is done!” Janus cried before Cameron could speak, his fist clenching tight around the bone debt. Yellow dust ran through his fingers to the ground. He flung the key in Morgan’s direction, and stretched like a cat. “My debt is cleared. Now pay attention, wolf-boys: three times only the Omniclavis will work – and then it returns to me.”

“Hold on. You didn’t mention that!” said Cameron.

“No?” Janus lay back on the couch, affecting a look of innocence. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“That bone-thing was our bargaining tool.” Cameron
turned to Morgan. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Reckon so. We’ve still got Grey, Black and their summons to deal with. Bet we can steal a march on them with this.”

“Oh, don’t bicker. This was meant to be.” Four eyes fixed Cameron with an ironic gaze. “It
augurs
well for your future.”

Cameron opened his mouth to ask the Roman God what he meant, but at that same moment an enormous shuddering
thunk
shook the carriage. The room swayed giddily from left to right as if the train was dancing on the rails. “What happened?”

Janus said nothing, but closed his eyes and started to hum a little tune.

There was metallic rending sound, like something being ripped open, and a cry rang out. Morgan’s head jerked in the direction of the other carriage.  “That’s Eve! Come on!”

They darted for the gangway.

In the garden room, two huge blundering grey shapes were stumbling to their feet. Each resembled an over-inflated puffball parody of a man: the body and limbs bloated and swollen.

“They came through the roof! They just tore it open!” Eve ducked as one blob swung an arm at her. It missed, and connected wetly with a column. There was a strange, sickly sweet smell as it drew its arm back, and Cameron saw part of the stonework had vanished, leaving behind a gap as if it had been eaten away.

“Eve, get out!” he yelled.

“Oh thanks! I’d never have thought of that.”

She leapt over the marble benches, and darted round
the pond to the other side of the carriage. Remorselessly, the blob men followed.

The stone kitten hissed, driven from its hiding place, and raced past Cameron to the gangway.

“I’m gonna get Janus. He’s got the power to stop this –” Morgan loped in the direction of the Temple of the Door. “Try and hold them off!” he called over his shoulder.

“With what, exactly?” Cameron seized a heavy amphora and flung it at the nearest blob. It squelched into the creature’s back, which puffed and absorbed the jug whole. The grey skin bubbled and flattened, and the creature seemed to grow…

Fragments of Morgan’s shouted conversation with the God of Doors echoed back along the gangway: