Picture Source
I have not had much time for wargaming recently as I have been finishing a novel. It's an urban fantasy set in East London and is contracted to Baen Books. I am on the final edits. Below is a taster - The Prologue (titter ye not).
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Prologue
-The Wolf
Pools of light from irregularly spaced street lights
formed isolated spots of civilisation like imperial border forts strung along a
barbarian frontier. Rhian pulled her coat a little tighter and walked briskly,
heels clicking on the concrete paving stones.
An old hatchback pulled out of a
side street and accelerated aggressively. Its small high-revving engine
screamed in bursts as the driver worked it through the gears. The youth in the
front passenger seat lit a cigarette illuminating the vehicle’s interior in a
brief yellow flash that froze a moment of time. The driver stared intently
ahead focussing on extracting the last possible horse power out of the modest
motor. Two girls in crop tops displaying too much skin sat in the rear, large
hoop ear rings swaying as they bent forward over a mobile phone. They giggled
at something on the screen in the way of girls the world over.
Rhian watched, feeling envious. The car was a cosy
private bubble, separate from the dark cool street. She wondered whether the couples
were on their way home from a night out or maybe they were going on to a club.
The car disappeared leaving her an outsider, alone in the night.
She
walked on.
Something trotted out from under the
bars of a gate in the wall that enclosed Tower Hamlets cemetery. At first she
thought it was a small dog but it had a long snout, pointed ears and a full
tail.
The urban fox paused and looked at
her, its eyes shining green in the street lighting. That’s how the hill farmers hunted foxes at
night in her native Wales. They shone a spotlight across the fields and shoot
at green eyes hiding amongst the silver eyed sheep and lambs.
The fox was so close that she could smell the rancid
odour of its dank fur. The animal snarled, showing its teeth. Foxes had lost
their fear of people since the government had introduced the hunting bans. They
stood their ground when confronted by a human where once they would have fled.
They had even started to attack children and Rhian, petite and slim, was little
larger than a teenage girl.
She lifted her lips and growled, the
deep rumble belying her small frame. The fox put its ears and tail down and
slunk back into the cemetery, vanishing noiselessly into the dark.
Rhian
turned into a narrow alley that curved between two buildings. Her foot slipped
on something squishy on the paving but she didn’t care to speculate about the
nature of the squishiness.
She rounded a last corner onto the
main road and the London night assaulted her senses in all its glory. It was
like a stage musical revealed by the lifting of the theatre curtain. Brightly
coloured light spilled from all directions. Noise surrounded her, the hum of
car engines and the murmur of voices sliding over each other in layers. Burning
hydrocarbons stung acidly on her throat. People spilled out of a nearby tube
station from one of the last trains to run that night. Two men argued
listlessly as if neither really cared about the issue. Tyres squealed and horns
sounded as car drivers bickered over precedence.
She could not face running the gauntlet of the drunks
racing each other down the dual carriageway of the Mile End Road so she walked
on a short distance to where a ramp dropped down to a subway. The local
graffiti painters had been busy spraying tags on the white-tiled walls. Council workmen occasionally made a
half-hearted attempt to clean the mess off but they were only preparing an
empty canvas for the next street artist and, unfortunately they weren’t all
Banksys.
The
ramp was lit with white lights in strong plastic boxes placed high up on the
walls. Enthusiastic stone throwers had cracked much of the Perspex. When she
turned the right-angled bend down under the road, Rhian was dismayed to see
that long stretches of the subway were in darkness. The few lights working
seemed to be running on low voltage and, if anything, they added to the gloom.
She dithered about whether to go back up to the street
and take the long walk out of her way to an above-ground pedestrian
crossing. Muggers might lurk in the dark
and she was frightened of what might happen if she was attacked, but her feet
ached so she went ahead anyway.
Rhian strode quickly with the
determined air of someone going to the dentist. The sound of her heels on the
concrete preceded her up the tunnel, echoing off the tiled walls and ceiling.
She was halfway along when she saw movement at the far end.
The street lighting behind the
subway exit silhouetted two figures. Rhian paused, concealed in the dark, able
to back out before the newcomers even realised she was there. The silhouettes
moved slightly apart so that Rhian could see them more clearly. They were
holding hands and one had the unmistakable curves of a woman.
She relaxed and continued towards
the couple. The closer she got the more relaxed and happy she felt, and a part
of her mind was curious about that. Rhian was not normally a particularly
relaxed and happy person.
The subway lights illuminated the
tunnel in a friendly pale light that swirled around her. She could not imagine
why she had thought the tunnel dark and uninviting. She felt light-headed and
warm, the night chill entirely dispelled.
Each breath slid in and out of her
mouth like a strawberry-flavoured hallucinogenic drug, the air fizzing the way
a carbonated drink sparkles on the tongue. Tension drained from her body and
she felt truly content for the first time in, well, she couldn’t remember when. The wariness that was so
much a part of her character evaporated like overnight frost in the morning
sun.
The
scent from the twisted posy in her buttonhole smelled of a summer’s herb
garden. She hadn’t noticed that before. Enticing snatches of different perfumes
intermingled but the aroma grew stronger and more alkaloid until it irritated
her nostrils. She shook her head and pulled at the posy but it was stuck fast.
Another wave of warmth flowed over her and she forgot the minor annoyance, her
fingers and toes tingling as if she was pleasantly drunk.
The couple walked towards her. She
had almost forgotten them so distracted was she by the waves of pleasure
curling gently backwards and forwards through her body but now she could see
them clearly. They glowed with vitality, tall, slim and achingly beautiful. The
man wore a dark tailored suit set off by a striking cream shirt and pink tie.
The woman was draped in a long blue gown that clung tightly to her body in all
the places a gown should cling. They were more than just beautiful; they were
elegant, sophisticated.
A small, still rational part of her mind wondered why a
man and woman dressed for the opera or a club Up West should be walking under a
road in East London but euphoria submerged the thought.
Something stirred deep inside her,
something uneasy at events, something immune to the enchantment of beauty,
something indifferent to charisma, something predatory.
The woman was raven-haired with
astonishing purple-tinged eyes that shone in the gloom. Her face was perfectly
symmetrical, her skin flawless, her teeth as even and white as a Californian
game-show hostess. Her companion was also dark with knowing grey eyes. These
people were so perfect, so metropolitan, that Rhian felt unfit to share the
same world. She felt cheap, dingy and malformed in comparison. Rhian knew she
was was spoiled goods, shop-worn and stained.
The man beckoned her so she focused
on him, drinking in his masculinity. He summoned her into his glowing presence,
a prince showing kindness to the scullery maid. They understood, these
beautiful people, and accepted her despite the grossness of her imperfections.
She stretched out her arms walking into their embrace.
The posy in her coat lapel caught fire,
burning with a fierce green intensity that flung stinging vapour into her face.
She inhaled in surprise and fumes seared her lungs. Rhian turned away, coughing
fiercely, unable to catch her breath. The burning sensation spread through her
body like nerve toxin - and the world twisted and changed around her.
The man and woman were still
beautiful but their beauty was terrible. They no longer looked entirely human. Their
bodies were too thin, too tall, like cocaine-fuelled supermodels. Their arms
and legs were too long, their skin impossibly white and the woman’s eyes shone with a lilac intensity that
could not possibly be natural. They gazed at her hungrily without a trace of
human compassion or sympathy.
Alarmed, she backed away. The man’s face twisted. He made a curious gesture
with his left hand and Rhian froze like a bug in amber, her mind disconnected
from her body. In her head she struggled, but her limbs refused to obey. The
couple smiled cruelly and moved ever so slowly towards her, the woman reaching
out to touch.
A wolf howl rang in Rhian's head,
reverberating through her mind, drowning out the world. Brutal power welled
from within, freeing her. She slapped the woman’s hand away and aimed a kick at her knee. The woman grimaced angrily
and made a twisting motion with her hand. Something invisible, something magic,
picked Rhian up, slamming her against the wall and knocking the breath from her
body.
The
woman laughed viciously. “This one is strong. Can you imagine how well she will
taste?”
“After you, my love,” the man said.
The woman leaned towards Rhian with
a wide smile of anticipation. Rhian gasped for air, trying to fend her off with
an outstretched arm.
There was a flash. The air in the
tunnel thumped against Rhian’s chest like a car tyre had exploded. Rhian swallowed, trying to clear
her ears. She smelt fireworks and an irrelevant thought curled around the edge
of her mind that someone had let off a Guy Fawkes’ banger.
The woman looked puzzled and
uncertain, like the rules had changed halfway through the game. A trickle of
blood welled out of the side of her mouth and ran slowly down her chin. To
Rhian everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. There was another loud
bang and the woman’s body jerked.
A man in a long dark overcoat stood
behind the glowing couple, right arm extended like an Olympic pistol shooter.
Rhian could not work out where he had sprung from. He materialised out of thin
air. The gun in his hand fired again and again. Rhian saw flesh torn from the
woman by the light of the flashes from the discharging weapon. She pushed the
injured woman away sending her spinning towards the shooter.
The gunman was so fast that Rhian barely saw him move. He
caught the woman’s hair and forced her head down, lowering his head over the
back of her neck like a lover. Rhian caught a glimpse of canine teeth and heard
bones crack. Her head lolled back and the gunman tore at her throat with long
fangs before dropping the twitching body to the floor.
The woman’s companion screamed in fury. He punched towards
the gunman, not even trying to touch him. Nonetheless the gunman reeled back as
if he had been hit by an invisible magical fist. His body spread-eagled against
the wall tiles. His gun struck the floor with a metallic clang. The magician
snarled and raised his hand while making a complex pattern with his fingers.
Rhian had no idea what was happening
but it was manifestly clear who was her enemy. She leapt on the magician's
back, grabbing at his hand to spoil whatever he was doing. The man responded by
flipping his other hand back towards her like he was dislodging a fly. Invisible
magic punched her hard in the face. She fell backwards, the cold unyielding
concrete jarring her spine. Pressure built on her mind, the wolf awake, the
wolf demanding to be set free.
The gunman scooped up his weapon and
pointed it at the man. Rhian saw him press the trigger but nothing happened.
The gunman pulled desperately at the rear of the gun as the magician made a
series of passes. The air flickered,
images forming like shadows from decayed films. Light gushed from the magician’s hands, streaming away in coils,
solidifying into a fluorescent purple cable.
The magician lashed at the gunman,
forcing him to roll over desperately to avoid the strike. Concrete exploded
into dust and steam where the whip scoured the ground. The gunman half rose to
his feet and leapt forward. He was inhumanly fast but the magician was faster,
his whip catching the gunman in mid-air.
Rhian realised with a cold clarity
that left no room for doubt that the magician would kill the gunman and then
her.
“All right, you bitch, do it,” Rhian said, folding her arms in across her breasts, fists clenched.
The magician turned his head, giving
her a curious look.
The wolf exploded from within, its
triumphant howl vibrating through her body. Rhian pulled off her coat, knowing
what was coming. Her muscles contracted into tetanus, twisting her back like a
strung bow. Her clothes ripped and shredded, corroded by the magic flowing over
her body. She dropped onto her hands screaming with pain. Her head rotated back
into her neck and an invisible hand pulled her face out by the jaw, the bones
and ligaments realigning. Something terrible was happening to her legs and her
skin writhed as if they were covered in burning napalm. She screamed and
screamed but the sound that came out of her throat was a howl that filled the
subway with throbbing sound.
Her sight failed.
When she could see, her world was
monochrome and flattened. The pools of bright light surrounded by darkness were
gone. Everything was at much the same level of illumination, as if she wasn’t seeing with light at all.
The world was alive with smells.
Human traces were everywhere in the subway but her nose told the wolf that no
people were near. The things in front of her were not people. Her hearing was
acute, detecting even the low rumble of the cars through the roof of the
subway.
Rhian orientated the wolf on the man
with the magic whip. The wolf did not intellectualise. To think was to act. She
bounded forward, growling.
The magician turned to her, grey
eyes widening in shock. He started to make a gesture with his free hand but the
wolf sprang. She clamped her teeth on the prey’s wrist biting down hard, her heavy body spinning him around until his
arm broke with a satisfying crack. Bones crunched in the wolf’s jaws and she heard the prey gasp.
The magician lashed the wolf with his
whip of light, scoring the animal’s fur and splashing blood from the hard-packed muscle underneath. The
wolf howled in anger, pain only spurring her on. Gathering her rear legs under
her body she pounced again, crashing into the prey’s chest, knocking him over backwards. The
whip lashed the subway ceiling, smashing a light cover in a spray of sparks
that cascaded over the combatants like wedding confetti.
The damaged light strobed, freezing
the wolf and the man in a series of stationary images like an old movie played
at the wrong speed. Flashes of light freeze-framed shadows on the subway wall
like echoes from another universe.
The
wolf chopped down on the prey’s throat. Strange, metallic-tasting blood sprayed
into her mouth matting the fur around her head. The prey struggled but the wolf
tightened her grip remorselessly, shutting off air and tearing flesh. The wolf worried
and shook the throat long after the prey stopped moving, long after the last
air gurgled from the bloody mess.
The wolf dropped the corpse and
stalked stiffly to where the downed gunman lay on the ground. He shuffled back
on his bottom and elbows until stopped by the subway wall, where he ejected the
clip from his pistol. Fumbling in his coat pocket he produced a replacement and
rammed it home, pulling back the slide to ready the weapon. The wolf watched
with interest, fascinated by the metallic clicks and machine-oil smell.
The gunman pointed the pistol
unwaveringly at the wolf. She ignored the weapon, moving closer to him,
growling deep in her belly.
“Good doggy,” said the man. “Sit!”
The wolf sniffed at the man’s wounds. They smelt healthy so he would
probably survive. The man held his hand out for her to scent. The wolf
considered killing him but he offered no provocation, sitting submissively like
a cub being held to account by an alpha female. The wolf was bored. She licked
the man’s hand, tasting him.
“That’s a good doggy,” he said, running his hand along her muzzle to scratch the fur behind
her ear.
The hand with the gun never wavered
in its aim but the wolf did not seem to understand the threat posed by the
weapon. Rhan pushed upwards like a swimmer surfacing from a dive into a dark
sea-pool. Changes coursed through her body and the pain began. She screamed
until merciful oblivion descended.
