Imperium Lupi Read online

  Olivia had an idea. “I know,” she said, “let’s go to the pictures tonight. It might be mentioned on the news reels.”

  Bruno was eager, “Yeah, all right. What time?”

  “Olivia!” Sara growled out the side of her mouth, “We’ve got our presentations tae prepare fer.”

  “Prepare what?” Olivia replied airily. “All we have to do is a drawing, the rest is easy. You know bees and I know spiders. We could talk the legs off a millipede.”

  Sara said nothing, but smiled at Bruno.

  “Seven o’ clock then?” Olivia asked, looking hopefully across to Bruno.

  “Sure. I’ll meet you there,” he said. “Usual place, yeah?”

  Olivia nodded.

  Bruno cast his fiery gaze down at Sara. “You coming?” he urged, smiling toothily at her – the rogue.

  Sara couldn’t help but give in, “Aye. All right.”

  Once all arrangements had been made, and the silver balloon had circled out of sight, the girls invited Bruno to join them under the cloisters. Sara offered him half her honey sandwich.

  “No thanks, I snuck a waffle earlier,” Bruno declined, removing his coat and laying it over the low cloister wall.

  “Oh aye, the famous three-season waffle,” Sara said, sitting on the cloister wall. “You should go one better and make a four-season waffle.”

  Bruno sat beside her, a giant. “That’s a season too far, Sara, it’d spoil it,” he said.

  “Aye, well, you know me and mah cooking.”

  “Could burn a salad, you.”

  As Sara went to hit him in rebuke, a sniggering Bruno deflected her paw deftly aside – Dad had taught him well.

  “Too slow.”

  “Where’ve you been, Bruno?” Olivia asked, her chin cupped in her paws, her drawing quite forgotten in favour of Bruno’s rippling muscles. “Moved again?”

  “Yeah, and Dad wants to move again.”

  Sara nearly choked on her dwindling sandwich, “Again? Didn’t you just move into that new place last month?”

  “Yup.”

  “What’s wrong this time? Is the spot nae good fer business?”

  “No, it’s great for business, but Dad says it’s too dangerous, like he always does,” Bruno explained, in a huffy voice. He hiked his shoulders as he filled the girls in on the morning’s happenings, “See, there’s this one Howler who keeps coming in and he’s gotten really friendly. He’s really nice, shells out massive tips. Dad was well-pleased.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Olivia chirped.

  Bruno spread his big paws. “Well, we got a big bay window in this new place and this Howler likes to sit there every time he comes in. Someone obviously knew his routine, ‘cause they lobbed a bomb right on his lap nearly! It blew up and took out half the café. Almost killed me, it did!”

  Sara’s puny paws clapped to her petite muzzle.

  Seeing the look on her little face, Bruno hurriedly toned things down, “Oh, it’s not that bad. Just a few windows knocked out, really.”

  Slowly, Sara lowered her paws, “Is your dad all right?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “And you?”

  Bruno jokingly checked his body for holes, “Yeah.”

  Olivia and Sara exchanged looks, “Well, thank Ulf for that,” said the former.

  Bruno rubbed the back of his neck, “The Howler’s in a bad way though. We took him to his Den. I dunno if he’s even still alive. I don’t suppose we’ll be told anything.”

  “What Den?” Olivia asked, trying, failing, to sketch some more.

  “Riddle.”

  “Riddle? But that’s Bloodfang territory.”

  “Yeah, so?” Bruno queried.

  Olivia tutted at him, “Brutal bunch they are. You should move into Greystone territory. It’s much safer there. My family is close to the Greystones, they’d look after you if I asked.”

  “Their turf’s too ashy for my lungs; too many furnaces and factories.”

  Sara threw her paws up, “Ah dunno why you don’t just leave Lupa altogether instead of going from one district tae the next. They’re all the same. Doesn’t matter which crooked pack runs them.”

  “What about yours, Sara Hummel?” Olivia chirped cheekily.

  “Mah pack’s nae perfect either, but at least over in Everdor there’s fresh air and sunshine,” Sara Hummel defended. “And life, Bruno, trees and bugs and crops and… and hardly any ash that does your lungs nae good at all!”

  “We can’t run a business out in the sticks, Sara.”

  “For the hundredth time, you can set up in Hummelton; plenty of tourists there. Or better yet work on a farm, caring for the land, keeping livestock. Och, you’d love it!”

  Bruno guffawed and shook his head.

  “What’s wrong?” Sara mocked. “Farmer’s life too tough fer a soft city wolf?”

  “It’s not that. Hummelton just sounds….” Bruno hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Boring.”

  Bruno was right to hesitate.

  “Boring!” Sara piped, glancing at Olivia, who was laughing at them both. “Well it may not be as exciting as having your house blown up, but if it was nae fer Hummelton you’d all starve in Lupa. Nothing edible grows within a hundred miles o’ this dump!”

  Bruno raised his paws to calm her, “I know, I just... look, I dunno, Sara, I’m not like you. You’ve always known what you wanted to do. I’ve never known. I want to be useful. Do something with my life. You know?”

  Boooonnnng!

  The clock tower chimed for half past one and Olivia leapt to her feet, as if stung by a bee.

  “My next lesson!” she yelped, stuffing her satchel with her paper and lunchbox. “Oh by Ulf, I’ve got an imperiology exam! I should’ve been revising!”

  “Och! Olivia, you’re terrible!” Sara laughed.

  “I know, I know.”

  Bruno raised his chin at Olivia, “See you later, yeah?”

  “I’ll be there!” Olivia replied, hurrying down the cloister.

  Sara sighed fondly, “She’s such a scatter brain.”

  “Yeah,” Bruno agreed, looking all around. Once Olivia had gone, he began anew, “Oi, Sara, you’re an expert on imperium and stuff aren’t you?”

  “Ah would nae go that far,” Sara chuckled modestly.

  Bruno remained dead serious, and strangely subdued, “It’s part of your course though, ‘en it?”

  “Nae as much as Olivia’s. Why?”

  “Well, I… it’s just that… I’ve been told that….” Bruno trailed off and leant his paws on his thighs.

  “What?”

  “Saraaaa!”

  An old bear in a waistcoat ambled across the lawn, puffing clouds of imperium from a pipe like a train and looking a little bit lost as he searched the garden with his beady eyes.

  “Here, Professor!” Sara called, waving at him whilst simultaneously gesturing for Bruno to stand up.

  Upon arrival under the cloister, the Professor passed the slightly scruffy Bruno a look of near-disdain and addressed only his star pupil. “Had your lunch, Sara?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good, good.”

  The bear finally looked at Bruno, chin high, chest out, puffing on his pipe. “You are not a pupil, sir,” he said, with a suspicious and protective air.

  “No, sir,” Bruno admitted.

  “I’ve seen you lingering about before, who are you?”

  “I’m-”

  “Cousin Bruno,” Sara hastily interjected, locking arms with Bruno and pulling him close. “He’s down from Hummelton visiting Lupa... again. Ah said we could meet during lunch today. Ah forgot all about it on account of Toggle.”

  “You’ve got bees on the brain!” the Professor chuckled.

  Laughing, Sara made introductions, “Bruno Hummel this is mah biology teacher, Professor Heath.”

  “Oh aye, the famous Professor Heath!” Bruno ‘Hummel’ flattered, effortlessly adopting Sara’s distinct Hummel ac
cent. “Ah’m Bruno Hummel. Pleasure tae meet you, sir. Och, aye!”

  “Oh, uh… and you, young Bruno.”

  They shook paws. Heath, whilst small for his race, still dwarfed the giant Bruno. Still, the discrepancy between bears and wolves was never slimmer, by Sara’s estimation.

  Unable to excuse himself from Bruno’s company so soon without appearing quite rude, Professor Heath was impelled to ask, “Would you like to see our bee, young wolf?”

  “Bee?”

  Sara leapt on the premise, “Oh yes! Bruno you have tae come see her, she’s so beautiful. She crashed in the university the other day, didn’t she Professor?”

  “Yes. Got lost in the especially bad smog, we think.”

  “Me and Professor Heath managed tae catch her. We were running around all day with a big net. She’s got a broken wing you see, so we had tae save her.”

  Worried, Bruno accidentally reverted to his rough Lupan twang, “Yeah, but aren’t bees dangerous?”

  Sara laughed, “Och, Bruno!”

  “What?”

  Heath explained. “They’re only dangerous if you threaten the colony, my boy,” he dismissed airily, waving his pipe around. “On their own they’re relatively harmless. They only sting as a last resort since it often results in their death, of course.”

  Bruno held his breath as noxious fumes from the Professor’s ember pipe wafted his way; but in the end he still wound up coughing.

  “Professor, Bruno’s allergic tae ash!” Sara tutted, as if Heath ought to know.

  “Oh! I do apologise.”

  “It’s nae problem,” Bruno spluttered, remembering to pick up the accent again. “You weren’t tae know.”

  Heath cleared his throat, “In any case, I’d better go empty this out. Shameful habit really.”

  “You’ll catch the rot, Professor,” Sara chided.

  “Oh, at my age bits of me are falling off regardless.”

  Bruno felt his heart ice-over upon hearing that dreaded word, rot, but it was too awkward to bring it up now.

  Maybe later, after the pictures. There’s no rush.

  “I’ll meet you in the glass house,” Heath said, adding, “I’m going to give my associate a call whilst I’m about this pipe. I’ve been expecting him to ring all morning about his meeting. Something’s obviously kept him – Howlers for you. Don’t do anything with the bee until I get there, all right?”

  “Aye, Professor,” Sara replied, tugging Bruno’s paw. “Come along, cousin.”

  “Oh aye, cousin.”

  Sara sniggered at some joke that Professor Heath wasn’t privy to. The bear watched her and Bruno depart, unable to cast that wolf’s fiery eyes from his mind.

  *

  Sara opened the hefty wrought-iron and glass door amidst a delightfully rusty squeak.

  “Age before beauty,” she said.

  “I’m younger than you,” Bruno tutted, “I think.”

  Warm, humid air billowed into him like the breath of an imperium train, only without the subsequent watery eyes and sneezing. The young wolf found himself amidst a veritable jungle of plants and small trees, flowers and fruits, all enclosed by a delicate-looking web of glass and black-painted iron. It was like a cathedral of crystal made by a parish of plants to please the sky god.

  “Phew!” Bruno puffed, writing his name in the nearest pane of steamed-up glass. “Warm ‘en it?”

  “It’s a glass house,” Sara tutted, shutting the door. “It’s supposed tae be.”

  “I’m not moaning. It’s lovely!”

  Shedding her green coat, Sara rolled it up and stuffed it inside her satchel; Bruno had slung his over one shoulder in a rather dapper fashion.

  “And I thought you said nothing grows around Lupa,” he said, flicking a big, waxy leaf.

  “The ash doesn’t get in here.”

  “What about the tree on the green, though, and the grass. How comes they don’t die?”

  Sara couldn’t tell if Bruno was being daft to wind her up or genuinely ignorant. He had lived his whole life in Lupa and dropped out of school by twelve to work for a living and sometimes his lack of formal education showed.

  “It’s a cedar,” Sara explained, “it’s as tough as old boots, as is the grass. Some plants can tolerate ash, others even use imperium, just like the Howlers do. Anyway, the Eisbrand territory’s cleaner than most. You should move here really.”

  Bruno shot that idea down in flames. “It’s too expensive, we can’t afford Eisbrand rent.”

  “Aye,” Sara sighed, “Ah can just about afford mah tiny flat.”

  “Can’t yer mum help you out?”

  “Ah don’t want her to.”

  A grimace, a nod.

  Ducking and weaving to see through the knotted leaves and stems, Bruno chirped afresh, “Where’s the bee then?”

  “This way, silly,” Sara said, grasping Bruno’s arm – her little black paw barely encompassed half his enormous bicep. “Would ye look at those muscles!” she tutted. “You get bigger by the week, ye great lump.”

  “Maybe you’re just getting smaller.”

  Sara pinched Bruno’s arm, “Ah’m serious. Must be all the waffle batter you mix.”

  “Yeah, or maaaybe it’s the gym, Sara.”

  “Is there one near the new place?”

  “Dunno, I haven’t had a chance to look yet. Won’t bother now.”

  Navigating the miniature jungle, Sara and Bruno emerged into a clear space, whereupon the massive Bruno stopped dead, tugging puny Sara to a halt.

  Before him sat a large iron cage, as big as Dad’s truck, and behind its rusty bars lay a quivering bundle of striped black and yellow hair with six splayed legs and shiny, tear-shaped compound eyes. Two transparent, yet iridescent wings protruded from its back, criss-crossed by a network of dark veins, like a leaf – a bee all right, about the size of Sara!

  “Come on, she can’t get out,” the wolfess laughed. “She’s called Toggle.”

  “Toggle?” Bruno said, with a gulp.

  With a shake of the head at Bruno’s predictable trepidation, Sara dragged him closer. ‘Typical city beast, afraid of a wee bumblebee,’ she thought.

  Leaving Bruno standing, Sara knelt down beside the cage and reached through the bars.

  “Oi, careful!” Bruno yelped.

  “It’s all right, silly,” Sara scoffed, patting the bee on its shiny brow. Apart from the way the creature was continuously trembling, like a motor car left ticking over by the side of the road, it didn’t move.

  “Why’s it shaking?” Bruno asked. “Is it scared?”

  “No, they’re always like that,” Sara replied with a shrug. “It’s just the way they are.”

  “Oh.”

  “Want tae stroke her?”

  Bruno waved a paw, “I’m all right, thanks.”

  “Och, come on,” Sara tutted, beckoning him down.

  “Your teacher said not to do anything.”

  “He was talking about feeding her. Now come on, don’t be such a wimp. You’re a boxer, ye cannae be scared of a fluffy great bumblebee.”

  Unable to back out after that slight, Bruno put his coat aside and crouched beside Sara.

  “Just pat her head,” she told him, shuffling to one side.

  Against his better judgement, Bruno reached through the bars, his paw reflecting in the bee’s shiny eyes. He made contact. The insect’s skin, if one could call it that, was rock-hard and dimpled, like an orange made of marble.

  Bruno let out a tiny guffaw of surprise.

  “See?” Sara said, with that ‘I told you so’ look in her big yellow eyes, or rather ‘Och! Ah told yer so’.

  Bruno shuffled a little closer, “All right, Toggle?”

  Bvvvvvvvvvvvv!

  Wings fluttering like a propeller, Toggle suddenly took off amidst a blast of wind and slammed into the roof of her cage, before falling flat on her back.

  Bruno also fell on his back, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.
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  “Woaagh!”

  Sara knelt, her sides splitting at her friend’s expense. “Hahahaaaa! Och, Bruno, ye so daft!”

  Toggle lay on her back awhile, six segmented legs kicking, before she fluttered her wings again and flipped upright. Her furry abdomen was pumping in and out like a bellows after that brief flurry of effort, as was Bruno’s for that matter.

  “She gave me a heart attack!” he said, grasping at his thumping chest. “Ulf almighty.”

  Stifling her giggles, Sara replied, “She keeps trying tae fly away, but one of her wings is broken, so she just flips over.”

  Gathering up what scraps of dignity he could, Bruno crawled over for a closer look. Sure enough a fair section of iridescent film was missing from Toggle’s right wing.

  “It’ll grow back, won’t it?” Bruno said expectantly.

  Sara grimaced, “Their wings don’t grow back.”

  “Ahw, no.”

  “Aye, isn’t it terrible? So sad.”

  Bruno leant forward, paws on knees, “What’ll happen to her then? You can’t keep her locked up forever.”

  Before Sara could summon a reply, Professor Heath pushed his way through the glass house jungle like an explorer, his mighty bulk rustling more than enough leaves to advertise his presence to the young wolves well in advance.

  “Sorry, you two, I got waylaid,” the bear excused. “Some Bloodfang oaf was loitering around campus.”

  “Bloodfang?” Bruno said.

  “Some rat; a plain-clothes Politzi agent. He denied it of course, but I recognised him. I’ve a memory for faces.”

  “But this is Eisbrand territory. What’s a Bloodfang Politzi doing all the way over here?”

  “That’s what I said! The rascal claimed he was tailing a suspect. He couldn’t produce an Eisbrand warrant so I escorted him off campus.”

  Sara was more interested in Toggle. “She tried to fly again, Professor!” she squeaked, hopping to her feet.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes yes, she will for a long time,” Heath maintained, cleaning his little spectacles. “I don’t suppose she’s really aware of what’s wrong with her.”

  Bruno looked to Toggle’s frayed wing. “What?” he said, before remembering to adopt the correct Hummel dialect. “Och! She must be able tae feel it.”

  Professor Heath gave Bruno a sideways look. “On the contrary, uh… Bruno, her wings are made of dead material. It’s like our fur, or claws, it’s not living tissue; you can clip your claws and not feel a thing. It’s the same for her wings. In fact a bug’s whole exoskeleton is like that; an armoured shell. Some say they don’t feel pain.”