Awakening the Red Claws, Page 2

  She scowled.

  “I’ll spit on your toast.”

  “You don’t have spit, you’re a mephit.” I said.

  “Racist pig.” she said heading for the door.

  “Fern.”

  “I’m not interested Eddie, I’m not, you can lie all you like but I know, I see.” she said, sounding worried, almost a little upset.

  “I am not used to having people around me. I’m not, this is all new to me and it’s taking some adjustment. My nice house is still nice but other people are around. Things get moved, my privacy is invaded.” I said realising I had long since given up covering my manhood. Inwardly I cursed then put the small towel over my stuff.

  Fern smiled a little, seeing me realise my stupidity.

  “I am trying Fern, I am.” I pleaded.

  “Eddie, you are a lying piece of shit. You are not trying, not at all.”

  “Argh!” I raged. “Ok, that’s it I’ll tell you why.” I seethed. “If she fucks up or I do she could kill us both, she could call on her dead parents and wouldn’t that be good. That would be fucking great wouldn’t it.” I said as I threw the pathetic towel down on the floor. “This life as you should or had better know is a game of cat and mouse. Some days you are the cat – great but sometimes you are the fucking mouse Fern. A fucking mouse!” I roared.

  “The mouse wins in the cartoon though and in life.” she shouted back.

  That’s it I thought. “Get out.” I shouted tiredly, “Get the fuck out you witless cloud of fog!”

  The look on her face was incredulous as she snarled at me. Then, she could have walked out through the door without touching it but for effect she opened the door and slammed it hard. So hard it rattled in the door frame.

  I sat down and ran my fingers through my hair. “For fuck sake Eddie, get a grip.”

  I’d had a few run-ins with Fern of late, it was getting to be an every three or four-day thing now. Usually about Tabitha, my house or something trivial. To be honest, she was becoming a real thorn in my side and close to be ordering out. As much help as she may be for Tabitha all she was doing now was pissing me off.

  I then laid down on my bed on my side and pulled the duvet over me in modesty and frustration. Silly bloody mephit - I thought.

  ****

  I had eventually calmed down. A good bit of meditation had helped, and Tabitha had brought me up a cup of tea half an hour ago. I preferred my ultra-hot black coffee, but she had asked for me to get some Honey tea and she had made me some. It’s great and helps to calm you she would say. Well it feels like it does, but I think this is mostly psychosomatic. Still, I needed something to further settle my patience.

  I had not long finished the tea and I was thinking a lot about what Fern had said earlier. I should really teach the kid something meaningful, even if it’s only a base shielding spell or something to serve as a distraction. Teaching though, it both feels beneath me and beyond me it’s not my thing.

  I mean I can remember bits of my own tuition but as you become more knowledgeable you start to divert away from how you were shown things. Like a river, you find your own path. The way I teach her would most likely get her if not both of us killed. I do show restraint and I can be subtle when needed but it’s the patience. The attention to detail and remember to tell her small things which I do automatically and don’t think about. Also, in my mind was the feeling of better teachers than me having been killed due to sloppy students. Students trying something different before they were ready and then getting themselves both killed. Two people I knew not more than ten years ago made this mistake Ruand and Alberto Betts, good people lost too early.

  It was something I’ll need to look at though, that I knew. I had to give the girl a chance, give her as much of a future as I could. The question was how?

  Thankfully though my darker thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. A call on my mobile and it was a number I didn’t recognise which WAS interesting. Not many had this number, so I readied myself for someone from India’s tech support asking for my login details and email password or a PPI caller as this was all I ever got on this number.

  “Hello.” was all I said.

  “Hello.” replied a strong deep voice. “Is this Eddie Holt, I’m looking for Mr Eddie Holt?”

  “Yeah, you’ve found him.” I answered curious now to find out who the male caller was. It didn’t sound like anyone I knew and it didn’t have the annoyingly keen tone of your average call centre person.

  “Hi Eddie, I’m from the Order. Is it ok to speak?”

  “That’s odd.” I replied standing up and pacing. “This line isn’t known to many, even among friends.” Friends was a term most used to talk about people in the Order when in public. It wasn’t very high brow but it worked, we knew what we meant and by standers just thought we were talking about normal friends. Not that wizards have many of them.

  “Enid gave me your number, hope you don’t mind?” said the southern sounding man.

  I paused for a second. Paranoid, I checked through the window of my room as I headed into my Watching Room to check out of the tower windows. This room gave me a great viewing point from most directions and it was a great Victorian feature in the house. All was clear.

  “Er…yeah it’s ok if Enid put you in touch.” Enid Rivers is essentially who I report into. She is a powerful spellcaster. Quite possibly the most powerful illusionist I know if not one of the most powerful wizards I know. I’d met her a few times and she has quite a presence to her and her subtlety with magic is something else. “How can I help and who are you?” I asked.

  The other man chuckled. “She said you were not the most welcoming of people.”

  “Then she knows me well indeed” I replied gingerly. “I don’t want to come across rude but it’s been a rough day. So, mystery caller, who are you?”

  “Oh sorry, I’m Malcolm Kelly, I am the Sentinel for Kent but you know that already I guess?”

  I didn’t, I knew the sentinel was Malcolm something or other but he was just a name to me. Not anyone I had met as I didn’t venture to Kent much. He though, like me would be under Enid Rivers so he could be trusted to a point. “Sure Malcolm, it’s nice to hear from you. So, what can I do to help?” I asked hoping he didn’t want much from me.

  “I’ve got a problem here which is spilling over to your neck of the woods?” he said with rich deep tones in his voice.

  “Really, something from Kent bleeding into Suffolk?” I asked a tinge of doubt in my voice.

  “No, into Essex, you’re still covering Essex as well right?”

  I took a deep inhale of breath which he would have heard. “Yes, I still am.” I said, before letting it out none too subtly either.

  “I’m guessing the TOWIE crowd is getting you down then?”

  “TOWIE, what’s that?” I said quickly scanning my brain for any mystical reference to the acronym.

  “The TV show TOWIE, you’ve not seen it?”

  “No,” I relied, “sorry to be so blunt but I need to get to the point of your call, it’s been a trying day. What’s Kent’s patch got to do with Essex?”

  “Werewolves, a few are causing problems in Essex.”

  “Essex why would they be doing that? We’ve got a few independents running about the same as with Suffolk but nothing to rival the bigger packs of Kent. We mostly only have outcast lycans, ones pushed from a pack or on the run. What’s Essex’s little wolves got to do with Kent’s big dogs?”

  Malcolm laughed a little at my unintentional pun.

  “Normally nothing, except someone has reinstated Verekama.”

  “What is that. Is it the old Lycan manhood test?” I asked, recalling bits about it that I had read.

  “Sure is.” replied the man. “Someone has started it off and it’s not gone well for the Lycans.”

  I thought for a second, not overly sure on what the terms of the Verekama were as I’m not that big on Lycan traditions. From memory a young unbloodied lycan tries
to kill a supernatural creature different to themselves as a test of manhood. “Surely, if someone has set this up and failed then he was most likely killed, so, case closed. Lycans I can’t imagine will take kindly to something coming into their territory and attacking one of their own – they are not the parlaying kind?”

  “Look, this is a long and delicate matter to discuss over the phone. Can I come meet with you?” asked Malcolm.

  I pulled a few faces looking into the mirror at my tired look and thinking on his request…“Sure but does this really affect Essex?”

  “It will do when you hear what I’ve got to share with you, I’ll meet you halfway. Say Chelmsford, the McDonalds at the services?”

  “No problem, how quickly do you need me there?”

  “Well,” he replied with more than a touch of sarcasm in his deep voice. “if you don’t have anything more pressing to do then now would be good. If not, then one of the biggest packs of Lycans is gearing up to head over to Essex and they are after blood.”

  I nearly dropped the phone at that. “Really, it’s that bad is it?” I asked, feeling the tiredness starting to bite and then suddenly abate at what he had just said.

  “It is, sorry. It’s big Eddie, so much so that I can’t quell the storm brewing here in Kent on my own and it’s due to hit you in Essex.”

  “Ok, you’ve got my attention. I’ll head there now and see you when I see you. I’ll be alone, will you?”

  “I will.” replied Malcolm. “I’ll call you as soon as I am parked.”

  “Sure.” I replied and hung up.

  Great, I thought, just great. Another big issue to sort and above all else I hate Lycans. They are bloody dangerous and Kent has some of the biggest around!

  ****

  It wasn’t much longer and I was back on the perpetual slow road into Essex, the A12. Traffic was bad as it can be this time of year. Slushy roads, yes we had snow in places and the usual heavy flow of drivers coming home from work and shoppers heading out to get their festive bargains meant I wasn’t going anywhere quickly.

  I humbly sat in the car listening to the radio as the presenter interviewed two guests about Brexit. I didn’t know who they were and I soon become bored with it before putting on my Queen CD.

  Eventually the Beast got me up to Chelmsford and towards the services. It was at this point I started to remember all the bad things about Lycans and how dangerous most of them are. Some are fine, they have control of the beast within. Some though, some are full of teeth, claws and rage. I’ve met the odd Lycan and so far, almost always on good terms.

  I pulled in and parked up before heading into the fast food chain. It hadn’t changed much as in the past I had met Wilf, the previous Essex Sentinel here once before.

  I walked to the doors of the food hall I tapped the knife hidden inside my coat. The silver blade of the Turkish Bicaq was hidden from view. Chiefly because carrying a blade isn’t legal in the UK, also because it’s a bit of a weird looking weapon and the talk of Lycans had me on edge.

  I walked in and looked around. The good thing about people of the order is you can typically spot them from afar. They are often seen with one of a number of items or trinkets which help to mark them out more. Either a cane or walking stick which is magically empowered, or they have a lapel pin. The pin is an iron triangle with a brass scrolling effect and a tree in the middle of the triangle with its roots showing. The idea is the tree symbolises growth, strong roots and all but it’s more a symbolic identifying mark than anything else. Some time back I guess it had some genuine meaning but now it’s a means to identify each other. The funny thing is we actually have better ways of doing this but some traditions die hard, like the Verekama.

  In theory, when anyone from the order enters the space of a Sentinel it is good etiquette to contact them beforehand, as early as possible – unless you have a warrant and you are out to bring them in. As I rarely venture out of Suffolk and my seconded domain of Essex I am usually good on this front.

  I look outside and see if I can see my counterpart whom I am supposed to meet. Malcolm, true to form for most of the Order was dressed with typical eccentricity. It seems to be something many of the men in the Order do but few of the women oddly.

  Well I wouldn’t easily miss him. He was sitting down at one of the tables near the entrance, a couple of empty burger wrappers on his tray and a maximum size coke in his big looking hands.

  I went in and seeing Malcolm clock me I nodded. He nodded back and I motioned to him to see if he wanted anything. He didn’t, so I joined the queue and ordered myself large black coffee.

  Then, with a steaming hot drink I walked over to him. Malcolm wasn’t entirely different to how suspected. He had the same quirky dress sense, but he had something of the rugby player look to him and for a member of the Order he was a big son of a gun.

  As I approached the brown-haired man stood up. Flecks of grey and occasional red showed in a thick beard which ran down about eight inches from his chin. It aged him a bit but this was countered by a younger man’s hair style. Shaved high on the right-hand side and bushed neatly over. It made him look around late thirties as it progressed down towards his thick beard of browns and coppers and a touch of grey.

  Malcolm’s build was like a bus. He stood around six foot four or five tall, shoulders thick and knotted with natural bulk and power. He did work out I guessed but he wasn’t a towering athlete like a modern-day boxer or runner. No Malcolm’s was all power and lumberjack like, which fitted well with his lumberjack patterned shirt. With his huge frame he looked as though if he got hold of someone he wouldn’t be letting go.

  The big man rose as I neared him and extended a big shovel like hand to me and smiled, a warm smile as he crushed my hand. Then, we felt the rare feeling, the feeling of energy passing between us. Almost like the wizard’s handshake, it’s annoying, not something we can really hide but it reinforces the identification between us that we are who we say we are. Or, at least we are both magic users.

  “Eddie, good to meet you.” said the deep voiced man as he towered over me.

  “Likewise.” I said still wanting to sound him out. We don’t seek out one another company often and it’s usually a cautious affair. The Order, doesn’t work in harmony with one another often. “Malcolm, I’m happy to help if I can.” I replied as sincerely as I knew how as we both took our seats.

  Then, Malcolm began. “I think this is an event severe enough that I will need your help Eddie. You see, this isn’t just a pack resurrecting some old tradition and it causing problems in your area. It’s not just a border conflict either.” he said shaking his head. “No, this is something serious which strikes at the heart of one of the most feared packs in England.”

  I raised an eyebrow, being honest this sounded bad. “Strikes at the heart in that the pack is under thread, if so, how?”

  Malcolm quickly glanced around as he leaned in. The other people around us were busy eating and not interested in what we were doing. To them, we were just another couple of diners enjoying a travel break and a drink. Just one big guy and one normal sized guy chatting in a tidy fast food chain.

  “The Red Claws, ring a bell?” he asked with a slightly hushed tone.

  “I’ve heard of the Red Claw pack, sure most around England will have. They are a big pack in your territory, possibly the biggest in the south of England last I heard?”

  Malcolm nodded.

  “You’re not wrong.” he continued, “But they are not under threat, it’s them becoming a threat to anything in their way.” he said seriously before running his hand through his beard before going into the whole story. “The Red Claw pack have sent Lycans into Essex to kill vampires. Apparently two were killed last night.”

  I frowned at this. “I’ve not had anything reach me.”

  “Typically, you won’t I doubt as the vamps will keep this in-house as much as they can. They are not ones for airing their dirty laundry. The problem is, it didn’t go off withou
t a hitch.”

  “Why, did the vamps get one of the wolves?”

  “They sure did. The relaunching of their stupid tradition is a problem in itself but the real issue is who the vamps ripped apart which is the problem.”

  I was about to say something when his hand indicated I stop. A member of staff wondered past us as Malcolm smiled warmly at her. Then he motioned for us to carry on.

  “Why, who was it?” I asked, thinking it can’t be that important if it’s a cub that got caught.

  “Two young Lycans got it into their heads to resurrect the traditional crossing from Kent over to Grays in Essex, they swam. They went there to complete their Verekama.”

  I nodded for him to continue.

  They managed to find two vampires. Now, from what little at the moment I know they destroyed them, one each and the tradition of the Verekama was upheld, that should have been case closed, a telling off and plenty of glory for them when they returned home. They even did it right and killed the vampires at night, in case you don’t know killing them during the day doesn’t count, it’s deemed embossing. A Verekama-katan is the insult given to one who lies and does this. It’s a stain on that lycan’s honour and a bad one.”

  Again, I nodded, this though was something new to me.

  Malcolm took a sip of the dregs of his fizzy drink. It was mostly at the ice stage, so he drew little fluid form and it made a lot of noise before the bearded man continued his tale. “Eddie, I was told only one of the Lycan actually made it back. Do you know a Demitris Larsen or a Merran Karl.”

  I didn’t so I shrugged. “No, they aren’t names I know but then again Kent is out of my area and Essex is only a short-term thing.”

  “You know of Leo though?”

  That name sunk into me like a stone. I slowly nodded, true enough, that was a name I knew. I then realised I had held my coffee cup for too long and it was getting too hot in my hand, the pain snapped my back… “I know of Leo, we all do. The leader of the Red Claws and by all accounts he was once a real terror.”

  Malcolm nodded. “The problem is Leo isn’t the sort of person to let things slide when they are personal and this now is.”