Once that little task was taken care of, I made a beeline for Castlefield – or went as directly as I could considering the small fires, blocked streets and abandoned cars that were in my way.
It was already mid-morning by the time I reached the old Manchester suburb. Given the devastation I’d already seen, I thought I was prepared for whatever sights Castlefield would offer. What greeted my eyes was a scene far worse than my most vivid nightmares could have conjured up.
‘This can’t be happening,’ I whispered, gazing round in horror. The remnants of the old Roman fort that had stood here for centuries were still there – mostly. The usually perfectly manicured grass in front of them was blackened and scorched, with several large gouges scarring it as if Godzilla himself had indeed appeared and attacked the ground. A strange scent clung to the air, a mixture of blood and death and something indefinable that made my nostrils tickle.
At one side, lying belly up, was a naked male corpse.
With trepidation curling all the way down to my toes, I edged over to it. There was something strangely familiar about his slack face. I stared for a long moment, before realisation finally dawned.
It was the eyes that I recognised. They might have been glazed and fixed open but they were definitely the same ones, on a far smaller scale, that had gazed at me from the dragon. There was no doubt in my mind that this was Liung, but he was no longer a dragon. And he was definitely dead.
My stomach heaved and I only managed to turn away before I threw up.
I was backing away, still feeling horribly queasy, when a flicker of movement in the trees caught my eye. I stiffened. What fresh new hell was this going to be? I squared my shoulders. I wasn’t running. No chance. I swerved round Liung’s body and stomped forward.
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t two women carrying the limp body of a wolf. One of them, an older blonde lady who looked oddly familiar, was holding the wolf’s head while the other, a younger woman, held his legs. Both of them had blank, frozen features that twisted my heart.
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, the way they both stopped and stared when they caught sight of me would have been comical. When it became clear that neither of them was going to speak, I drew closer.
My eyes flicked down to the corpse of the wolf. It didn’t take a genius to work out that this one of Monroe’s werewolves. An odd, proprietary sensation came over me. I doubted Monroe would be happy at these two messing with the bodies of his men.
‘What are you doing with that wolf?’ I demanded.
‘Burying him,’ answered the younger woman, shooting an angry glance at her companion. ‘It’s the least we can do.’
Nobody would be out here digging a grave for a wild animal because they felt like it. There was no chance that these two weren’t mixed up in all this – whatever this was.
‘I think Monroe might take issue with that,’ I said, my voice ringing out with surprising clarity. ‘After all,’ I added, taking an educated gamble, ‘that is his werewolf.’
Neither woman masked their reaction. The older one, whose shock was visible in every line of her body, carefully laid down her end of the dead wolf and faced me. ‘You know Monroe? And his … wolves?’
‘Very well,’ I lied. I peered at her. Suddenly I realised why she looked so familiar. ‘You’re that actress,’ I said. ‘From the soap opera that’s filmed around here. You’re Julie Chivers.’
She raised her chin. ‘What if I am?’ she asked coolly.
I blinked, my mouth going dry as I got a better look at her face. It wasn’t that she was famous that held my attention – I’m not the starstruck kind. It was that her skin was ridiculously pale, her eyes were red and her teeth…
‘Say it,’ she said.
‘You’re a…’ The word wouldn’t come out. It seemed too crazy.
‘Vampire,’ finished the younger woman. ‘She’s a vampire.’ She sniffed. ‘Before you ask, I’m human.’
My gaze moved from one to the other. Both of them looked shell shocked and it didn’t appear that I was in any immediate danger from them, but that didn’t mean I was about to let my guard down. Especially given what Julie Chivers had revealed about herself. Under any other circumstances I’d have laughed in her face, but there was no humour in this situation.
I found my voice. ‘I suppose being a forever-young vampire is cheaper than Botox.’
The actress managed a weak smile. ‘Indeed.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘I don’t suppose you have any gin, darling?’
The younger woman rolled her eyes before dropping the werewolf’s body. She walked over to me. ‘I’m Jodie,’ she said. ‘How do you know Monroe? Have you seen him? Is he alright?’
Until I knew more about them, I wasn’t giving much away. ‘Oh,’ I drawled, ‘we’re old friends. In fact he was round at my house yesterday for tea with Madrona.’
Jodie’s head jerked. ‘You know Madrona too?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not a faery. If you were, you’d have disappeared with all the others.’ She snorted in derision. ‘Bloody typical. They show up, almost cause the end of the world and then vanish back to their homeland leaving us to clean up their mess.’
‘What
