Imperium Lupi Page 17

  Bruno said nothing. He just stared; scared.

  The Howler laughed, “It’s all right, mate, I won’t rat!”

  He removed his helmet, revealing a friendly wolfen face, brown-furred like Bruno, but a shade lighter. His eyes were pale yellow, almost translucent, like slices of glistening lemon set on the side of a glass.

  Bruno frowned. “Gunnar?” he hazarded.

  “Yeah, now you’re getting it!” Gunnar laughed. “Six, seven years is it? Mate, my dad used to pop in for breakfast every day on his rounds. Remember that?”

  “Yeah! Hah!”

  “Ah, small town is Lupa,” Gunnar cackled, even though Lupa was a megapolis that sprawled for tens of miles in all directions.

  Hoping to keep things friendly, if only so he could get through this territorial checkpoint, Bruno made small talk with this long-forgotten friend, “How’s your brother?”

  “Going up in the world,” Gunnar claimed, “Captain Bodvar now.”

  “Howler then?”

  “Yeah, rot got both of us, well, all three of us including you eh?”

  Bruno didn’t know what to say.

  Gunnar stood back and marvelled, “Mate, I could feel you from across the street. I thought you were some idiot smuggling a load of stingers in that coat, but it’s just you under there, ‘en it? By Ulf, that wily rabbit must’ve greased paws left right and centre to keep you out of the Howlers this long!”

  Bruno dipped his chin. His mind raced. All these years he had ridden the trains and walked the streets and nobody, not one Howler, had stopped him or said anything remotely like this. Now three of them had accosted him in one day, speaking of crackling bones and coronas, and all the strange talk they came out with, which Bruno for the life of him had never once felt. Why now? What’s changed? Is it because I’ve been ill? Is that how the rot starts?

  Dad, is Tristan right? Have you been hiding it from me? Do you know? Did you always?

  “What’re you on?” Gunnar said.

  “Eh?” Bruno replied, in something of a daze.

  “Venom. What’re you taking to, you know, keep yerself going? White I hope.”

  Bruno scoffed, “I… I don’t take anything. I’m allergic to imperium; doctor said so.”

  Gunnar stared awhile, then snorted and tapped his nose. “Aye, aye, nudge nudge, wink wink.” He glanced around the arch and then took Bruno aside, “Seriously mate, if you need a fix you can drop by any time. I skim a bit of scum off the top of my broth, if you know what I’m saying.”

  Bruno didn’t really, but nodded anyway.

  Gunnar spoke under his breath, “White-imperium, mate, pure venom, properly packed and sealed. It’ll make you feel like a new wolf, not like the watered-down krap they peddle on the streets. For you, I can do a very reasonable price. Favour, for an old mate.”

  Heart pounding, Bruno decided to nod, and nod some more, judging it to be the fastest way to get out of here. “Sounds good, Gunnar,” he said, smiling.

  “All right then,” Gunnar replied, slapping Bruno on the arm.

  “Yeah. Look, I’d better go.”

  “Sure, sure. Don’t be a stranger; I’m on duty here most days.”

  With a forced friendly wave, Bruno took his leave and passed through the arch, thankfully unmolested by the Redcloak, into Bloodfang territory.

  He didn’t feel any healthier for it, nor safer.

  *

  Brrrri-!

  Janoah snatched the phone.

  “Yes?” she demanded, rocking to and fro in her office chair, before sitting up straight. “What do you mean you’ve lost him? He’s the size of a house, how could you lose him?”

  She waited through the fumbled explanation.

  “I see, Tristan’s meddling again. That wolf is fast becoming a bore with all his spies. Riddle District must be swarming with Eisbrand informants. If he wasn’t Ivan’s cousin and Den Father Thorvald’s darling I’d do something about him, as it is he’s untouchable.”

  Janoah paused for a thought and an ember.

  “Put out a notice to all the border guards to arrest our cook,” she puffed. “I’ll check the café. Werner should be there to pick him up, but I fancy a boxing wolf with a nascent corona might be beyond Politzi expertise. At least I rather hope he is.”

  Hanging up, Janoah grabbed her silver Howler helmet from her armour stand and a matching silver pistol from her drawer and left her office.

  “All right, boy, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Chapter 9

  “Drink up, Linuuus!” Uther woofed.

  Linus humoured his partner with a gulp of his beer.

  Satisfied, for now, Uther leant back into the plush green bench and took a huge draught of his beer and then another of his ember. Puffing blueberry vapours from his nostrils, he said knowingly, “You don’t get out much, do yer Woodlouse?”

  The stocky Linus shrugged his shoulders. “Not as often as I’d like,” he admitted.

  Uther’s white face cracked a wry smile.

  Linus cast an umpteenth eye around the interior of The Beehive Saloon, at the beasts of every sort laughing and chatting, drinking and smouldering. The air was thick with multicoloured vapours and lounge music; the walls hung with fashionable, imprecise ‘new art’; the chairs and tables of good quality, yet a minimalist design. The huge bear bouncers at the doors kept any real hard nuts at bay, Howlers notwithstanding. This was a safe, classy establishment; it didn’t feel like somewhere a tough street-wise wolf like Uther would go for raucous fun. Linus supposed he had Penny and Monty in mind, or even his new partner.

  “I’m sorry,” Linus sighed, shaking his head.

  “Eh?” Uther urged over the hubbub.

  “I’m not m-mmm-much fun I’m afraid.”

  Before Uther could mount a reply, an attractive golden-furred wolfess in a frilly red and white dress and matching hat sat down beside him without invitation.

  “Why if it ain’t Uther Bloodfang,” she said, in a lazy drawl. She stroked Uther’s chin with a finger and teased, “Whatcha doin’, yah no-good Howler scum?”

  “Getting merry, Lorna,” replied he.

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Aye, but not too much; I got special guests tonight.”

  Lorna plucked Uther’s ember from his lips and had a puff for herself. “Special guests, huh?” she chirped, blowing vapours over his ears. “Does that mean I ain’t wanted, Sugar?”

  Uther cast his eye over Lorna, “Depends if you behave.”

  With a dry chuckle, the wolfess looked across the table at Linus, who immediately buried his nose in his beer to avoid eye-contact with her.

  “Who’s yer friend?” Lorna asked Uther, giving Linus the once-over with those lovely blue eyes.

  “That’s my mate Linus.”

  “Cute.”

  “‘En he!” Uther agreed, with a rough cackle.

  Lorna raised her chin, “You a Rostsonner, sonny?”

  Upon realising Uther’s lady friend was addressing him, Linus looked up from his beer, “Who m-mmm-me?”

  “Uh huh. You look like a fellow southerner.”

  “I-I-I was born there, marm, beyond the canyons, but I hardly remember it now. I-I-I’ve lived in Lupa since I was a cub.”

  “So I can hear. You ain’t got no hint of our fine frontier accent, have you?”

  “I lost it I’m afraid; provided I ever had it. I don’t recall.”

  Lorna purred, “Trust me, the new you’s just fine. Nothing more attractive than an educated-sounding wolf, Linus.”

  The educated-sounding Linus felt his heart flutter, which wasn’t so bad, except as he gulped his beer it sloshed down the wrong hole and he spent the next half a minute coughing his guts out, much to the general amusement of Uther.

  Mercifully, someone patted Linus on the back and offered him a hanky, which he took and coughed into. Linus looked up to thank whoever it was who had done him such a courtesy, but was struck dumb.

  Another wolfess, lig
ht brown, in a similar getup as Lorna, but green and black. She was shorter, with a rounded muzzle, button features and grey eyes.

  “You awright?” she said, in a harsh and squeaky rendition of a Greystone accent.

  With some difficulty Linus articulated a response, “Yes. Thank you, miss.”

  For a while nothing was said.

  “That’s Linus,” Uther told the newcomer; breaking the end off another ember, strawberry this time. “Linus, meet Rosalina.”

  Linus nodded, “Pleasure, miss.”

  Rosalina curtsied, “Pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Linus.”

  “Scoot over then!” Uther tutted at ‘Mr. Linus’.

  “Oh. Yes, of course.”

  Linus did as he was told and shuffled along the bench, allowing Rosalina to sit beside him, just as Lorna had sat beside Uther, making two pairs on opposite sides of the waxy table.

  “He your new partner?” Lorna asked Uther quietly, though Linus could still hear.

  “Yup,” Uther replied under his fruity breath.

  “But he’s too… plump-lookin’ to be a Howler,” Lorna almost whispered.

  ‘Plump?’ Linus thought despairingly.

  “Aww, he’s just a cub, fresh out of the academy,” was Uther’s nigh on inaudible response. “You two be gentle with him, yeah? I’ll make it worth your while.” He leant over and whispered in Lorna’s ear; this time Linus couldn’t hear.

  “Uther Wild-heart, I do declare,” Lorna said, playing with her pearl necklace of many colours. “Why, you’re just a regular softy under all that muscle n’ gristle, ain’t yah?”

  She ran a paw over Uther’s chest, her fingers slipping between the brass buttons and inside his shirt. She pecked him sweetly on the neck and he returned her affections with gusto.

  Linus reached for his beer and took a substantial swig to calm his nerves. This was escalating quickly.

  “So,” Rosalina blurted, “you a Howler too then?”

  Linus nearly choked a second time, but luckily avoided the indignity. “Yes,” he said, nodding.

  “You don’t much look it, if I may say.”

  “Thanks,” Linus beamed, “I think.”

  “It’s a compliment,” Rosalina insisted. “You dun half get some clapped-out droolers in my line of work.”

  The next Linus knew, Rosalina had placed a delicate paw on his thigh. The only barrier remaining between her and Linus was the fabric of his breeches.

  “Me father was a Howler,” she said.

  “Really?” Linus all but squeaked. “How nice.”

  “No, it weren’t,” Rosalina sighed. “It were horrible. His fur fell out and everythin’. He were so young too.”

  “No, of course, I… uhm… I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s how it goes. I’m lucky he never passed on the rot to me. Me mother was healthy, so fingers crossed I’ll be all right. Us girls usually get away with it, but you never know.”

  Nodding, Linus supped some beer.

  Suddenly he felt Rosalina’s muzzle on his neck, her moist little nose nuzzling into his fur and down to his skin. Spitting beer, Linus pushed a paw up between him and Rosalina and levered the wolfess aside.

  “What’s the matter?” she squeaked, looking him up and down. “Don’t you like me?”

  Linus looked across at Uther and Lorna, who disengaged to check what the problem was.

  “Uhm… w-www-would you ladies like to go to the p-ppp-p-p-pictures?” Linus stuttered in desperation.

  “What?” Lorna sounded across the table. “The pictures?”

  “Yes. We’re going there, r-rrr-right Uther?”

  “Well… we were,” he replied with intent.

  Rosalina contemplated the proposition. “You mean, go there first, before getting down to business?”

  Linus leapt on the premise, “Yes! A-a-and maybe join us for dinner too?” he stammered further.

  Rosalina looked to Lorna, “Ooh, he’s posh, ‘en he?”

  And Lorna looked to Uther, observing, “Yeah, your friend’s a regular gentlebeast. How comes you’ve never offered to take us to the pictures, Uther, or dinner?”

  “‘Cause I ain’t a gentlebeast?” he suggested, with a puff of vapour.

  Lorna slapped him on the shoulder.

  “What? You actually wanna go?” Uther cackled.

  The girls nodded eagerly – Linus too.

  “All right, you’re on. We got plenny of time to kill.”

  Reaching into his breeches, Uther produced some money from his wallet. Lorna tried to snatch it, but Uther was too quick by half. He did, however, count out what Linus estimated to be a few hundred lupas and give them up to Lorna, who stuffed the cash inside the neck of her bodice.

  “Half now, half later,” Uther stipulated. “Now, let me pay my tab before I’m barred,” he grumbled, extracting himself from under the table.

  Warning sirens screaming between his ears, Linus was quick to excuse himself from Lorna and Rosalina and follow his partner across the saloon to the bar.

  “Uther!” he seethed through his teeth.

  “Leaving two vulnerable ladies alone, Woodlouse?” Uther tutted, hailing the black cat bartender in a smart red waistcoat. “Oi, Leroy!” Then finishing, “Not the done thing for a gentlebeast.”

  “They’re hardly ladies,” Linus scoffed, “let alone vulnerable-”

  “Well listen to you!” Uther growled. “Lah di dah!”

  Leroy arrived, his feline eyes alight, “What can I get you, Wild-heart?”

  “The bill, mate.”

  “It’s a hundred and sixteen lupas, forty-five pence.”

  “What the! You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Uther made grumbling noises as he counted out a wad of lupas.

  Linus began afresh, “Uther I-”

  “What?” Uther snapped. “Look, I’m paying for everything, don’t worry. My treat.”

  Linus wasn’t sure if Uther was referring to the tab or the company. “I-I don’t want to appear… ungrateful-”

  “Then don’t!”

  Uther slammed the money down and returned to the table. Grabbing his coat, he offered Lorna his arm and escorted her through the busy saloon towards the door.

  Rosalina waited patiently for Linus.

  “You Uther’s new partner?” Leroy asked, his glittering eyes taking Linus all in.

  “Yes.”

  The cat laughed heartily and bid adieu with a shake of the head and the words, “Good luck.”

  *

  As late afternoon bowed to twilight, Bruno emerged from a tiny passage into the street he had called home for only a few weeks. He had taken the back alleys to avoid attention, but still found himself glancing nervously over his shoulder for the umpteenth occasion.

  Never before had big, confident Bruno been afraid to walk Lupa’s streets.

  As he approached The Warren, Bruno could see warm light playing on the glistening cobbles outside and hear drunken laughter reverberating within. Dad must have opened for the evening crowd after all!

  Spurred on by thoughts of Dad and safety, Bruno hurried to the café door and burst inside.

  “Dad!” he called.

  It wasn’t Casimir behind the bar, but a recognisably enormous hog in a Bloodfang-red Politzi getup. Three more Politzi lounged around the place, two rats and another more modestly-built hog. They all stopped laughing and drinking and stared at Bruno as one entity, jaws slightly agape.

  Bruno stared back in kind. “Werner?” he guffawed; he knew Dad’s crooked old friend anywhere.

  “Bruno,” Werner replied, wiping his snout and putting his beer down. “Good to see you, lad.”

  Bruno looked around, “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s gone to see about the windows,” Werner replied without pause, pronouncing ‘winders’.

  “Oh, right,” Bruno nodded – that made sense.

  Werner trotted out from behind the bar, pulling up his baggy breeches as he went. “I came b
y to take Casimir’s statement regarding this morning. I said I’d watch the place for him whilst he was gone.” He slapped Bruno on the back; Werner was one of the few beasts big and hefty enough to jolt the immovable Bruno. “Don’t mind if the lads have a few beers whilst we wait, do yer?”

  Dry-mouthed and dying for a pint of beer himself, Bruno cast his fiery eyes over the others. Had he been cleverer, he might’ve wondered why four Politzi were required to take a statement. As it was he replied, “‘Course not, mate.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Werner said, patting Bruno’s shoulder. “We’ll take your statement too. Just need to ask you a few questions. Nothing serious. Formalities, really.”

  “Fire away, Werner.”

  “Not here. We’ll do it over at Riddle Den.”

  Bruno glanced at the bay window; ordinarily he might’ve seen the spires of the local Bloodfang Den in the distance, but of course the broken glass was boarded up.

  “Why there?” he asked, a little worried.

  “It’s just easier to fill out all the paperwork,” Werner sniffed logically. He looked Bruno over, “You all right, though? I mean, not hurt or anything are yer?”

  “Nah,” Bruno dismissed, taking a moment to add, “Howler Rufus saved my life.”

  “Did he now?”

  “Yeah, I think so. He pushed me into the kitchen when the bomb went off. If he hadn’t I’d have been shredded.” Bruno scratched an ear, “You know about the bomb, yeah?”

  “I do; yellow-imperium, nasty stuff,” Werner snorted, shaking his head. “You know, most beasts would’ve just cowered whilst a Howler bled-out, or at best ran for help. It was a noble thing you did, Bruno Claybourne, very noble indeed.”

  The youth shrugged.

  Werner beamed amiably, “I reckon you’ll be handsomely rewarded.”

  For the first time all day, Bruno felt a pang of relief, “Rewarded?”

  “Of course! You’re a regular hero over at the Den.”

  “I am?”

  “Aye! I reckon they’ll strike you a medal and everything.”

  Bruno woofed with delight, “Cor! Really?”

  “Aye!” Werner threw an arm around the wolf and guided him to a bar stool. “Now come and have a beer with Uncle Werner. You’ve always been like a nephew to me, as Casimir is like my brother. You know that, don’t you?”