She grimaced. ‘But don’t they see how pathetic he is?’
‘You’re an outsider, a traveller with more experience of the world, so you can smell the fakery. And I bet he doesn’t always appear like that. Remember your impression of him in case he pulls out one of his more impressive tricks. I wouldn’t want you falling for his lies.’
‘No chance of that. He’s a violent man, the opposite of everything I believe. He’s not offering a new religion; he’s offering an overinflated ego.’
Kel could hear the jingle of keys as a guard came down the stairs. ‘Hold onto that thought.’
‘Rested?’ sneered the gendarme, the same one who had been so insulting to Nixie the night before. Kel moved to stand in front of her.
‘Yes, thanks,’ Kel struck a purposely upbeat tone. ‘Time for Round Two, hey?’
‘Come on.’ The guard shoved him in the back but didn’t touch Nixie, repelled by her glare. They went back up to the reception room in which they had first been interrogated. The women from yesterday were there, but François now had a small party of officials gathered at the conference table. The remnants of a meal scattered the surface, croissants and coffee, jam, butter and baguettes. The mayor tore an end of the bread in half and threw it to the huskies. They really were magnificent beasts. Kel’s stomach rumbled. He might be fighting for his life in a moment but still appetite spoke up demanding it be satisfied. That was what had started this whole debacle: the need for supplies.
‘Nixie, grab the guitar if you can when we leave, OK?’ he whispered. They’d still need a way of earning their own bread if they survived this. ‘Only throw it down if you have to.’
‘Kel, what are you planning?’
‘To show the people that François isn’t someone to be feared.’
She groaned. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, like the child in the Emperor’s new clothes story, I’m going to tell them he’s a naked liar. It’s going to lead to a flight or fight follow-up so be prepared for either.’ He gave her a reckless grin. ‘Ready?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘These are the strangers who disrupted market day,’ said the mayor to his officials. ‘I’ve given them a night in the cells to consider my offer. The girl will be tested for collection. The boy here looks fit enough. He can serve on my guard if he swears loyalty to me.’
‘Jumping the gun, aren’t you? That’s being collected. So what’s being hunted?’ asked Kel. His own markings were prickling. Now wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth for the mayor if he was shown up to not be so special after all? He tried to soothe them. That was no longer part of his plan.
‘The right term of address is “sir”!’ hissed Paul, the man with the lists. He was almost incandescent with rage at the lack of respect being accorded his chosen one.
‘No need to call me that, Paul. I don’t have any inflated ideas of my own grandeur.’ Kel folded his arms.
François scratched the neck of the nearest husky. ‘It means, young idiot, submit or die.’
‘Rather melodramatic, wouldn’t you say, and not the law of France? I take it that’s your new religion?’
‘Not religion—it’s science,’ François shot back. ‘This is the natural order. Survival of the fittest. The strong protecting the pack, culling the unwanted.’
‘You don’t know much about Darwinism, do you?’ said Nixie, like she was lecturing a child who had failed to turn in an adequate homework. ‘You’re forgetting that cooperating to form a society is an important evolutionary advantage.’ She was spontaneously doing her part in the Denigrate François Plan. Good for the Danish education system. And she was right. That’s how the Perilous had survived and how the most successful nations had coped with the worst of the crises brought by climate change. Men like François were the evolutionary wrong turn.
The mayor, however, was blind to that fact. ‘I don’t see you being part of a society, mademoiselle. In fact, quite the opposite. And your companion, he shirked eco-service. He is alone—and lone wolves get hunted.’ François dismissed Kel and turned back to Nixie. ‘But, I would hate to see so much beauty go to waste. Would you like to take the test to see if you will fit in with my household?’
Nixie pressed her hand to her stomach as if she was about to be sick on the white rug. ‘Really no.’
‘Are you sure? This is about to get bloody.’
‘Um…’ Kel didn’t blame her for hesitating. She wasn’t being offered attractive choices. ‘I’m not very collectable and you just don’t float my boat. Sorry, no can do.’
François frowned at the rejection. ‘No accounting for taste. Shame. But on your head be it. Paul, set it up.’
And here they went: straight into the François world of crazy.
‘Set what up?’ asked Nixie.
‘The hunt. The rules are you get a five minute head-start before I unleash the pack. I wouldn’t like you to think I’m not sporting.’ François flashed her a toothy smile.
‘Oh no, we wouldn’t think that,’ murmured Kel. Just insane. Kel rubbed his hands together. ‘Yes, Paul, you run along and do that. Nixie and I will meet you all on the steps of the castle. Make sure you get a good hunting party together. We love parties.’
‘I’m not sure I like this kind,’ she said in a small voice.
‘Trust me. I know what’s going on.’ Kel hoped that he was right but there was no point showing doubt to Nixie. Worst case scenario, they’d have to dump the guitar and run; but, as they were both young and fit, they should still get away. ‘Make sure you’ve got your shoelaces tied.’
‘I wouldn’t be so eager for the hunt,’ said François. ‘My people have developed quite a taste for blood.’
‘So did the Roman crowd at the colosseum. Way to go, Frank, undoing centuries of human progress.’
‘You think this is progress?’ François waved a big hand at the window. ‘Climate catastrophe, governments teetering on the edge, half-hearted solutions?’
He might have a point but he couldn’t claim to be making a positive contribution with his retrograde philosophy. ‘And you’re helping how?’ asked Kel.
‘By establishing order. Giving them something to believe in.’ He patted the knee of the woman on his left. ‘Isn’t that right, ma petite?’
‘Yes, François,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It is such an honour to be one of those who inspire you.’
That was just plain old Perilous lust, but Kel didn’t want to burst the woman’s bubble just yet.
‘Some of us have been marked out by evolution as superior beings,’ continued François. ‘We are leaders and only those who agree to be part of our pack can be allowed to survive. Others just steal our resources, take the bread from our children’s mouths.’
‘I don't know if you’ve noticed, Frank, but we all share the same world and the same rights to live.’
‘Then stay in your own home—don’t come where you’re not wanted.’
‘And if home is gone—underwater, destroyed by desert, or ripped apart by war? Talk to No-Homers and you’ll realize any of us can become one.’
‘Then I suppose that’s just bad luck.’ François finished the dregs in his cup of coffee. ‘Enough. Let’s get rid of these invaders. I’ve got a busy day.’
‘So you’re struggling to fit in hunting a couple of people just passing through between gorging on croissants and putting more gold leaf on your bathroom taps?’
François snapped his fingers at his women. ‘Get your coats. I want everyone to participate when this pair is taken down. It’s good for pack discipline. No holds barred. Bonus to the one who “accidentally” maims the boy.’ His offer was scattered to the listeners in the room, council officials and guards alike.
‘Kel!’ whispered Nixie.
Kel held her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘I can’t say “don’t worry”, but I’ve got a plan.’
‘I hope it includes getting out alive?’
‘Yeah, I hope so too.’
12
>
Paul had done his work: a large crowd had gathered at the foot of the steps of the castle. Kel had a flashback to watching the film of Beauty and the Beast with his sister when they were younger, nestled on the sofa of one of Osun’s London homes. It felt uncomfortably like the scene at the end when the villagers come to kill the beast, just without the nighttime and flaming torches. François sat in a stone seat that occupied the centre of the top flight, his court ranged around him. Kel and Nixie stood to one side. She had the guitar clutched in one hand. François clicked his fingers and Paul read out the proclamation authorizing the hunt. The people were eerily silent like a crowd at a public execution listening to the sentence. When Paul finished, he turned to Kel and Nixie.
‘Strangers, you have a five minute head-start, beginning now!’ He started the countdown in his watch.
Nixie tensed like a runner on the starting line, expecting Kel to run immediately. He had other plans, though.
‘Give me a moment, Nixie.’
‘You’re wasting your time,’ growled François. ‘Get running.’
Kel cleared his throat to make sure his voice rang out in the courtyard. ‘I want to challenge for the position of mayor.’ He must have succeeded in hitting top volume because it scared the flock of doves off their rooftop perches.
‘You want what?’ François repeated incredulously.
‘I think you heard me, Frank. Or are you too cowardly to accept?’
Paul rustled through pages of council rules. ‘This is most unorthodox. We elect mayors. You’re not even a citizen of France!’
That wasn’t how it had happened lately, surely? ‘And I suppose Frank stood in a free and fair election? Is he French, by the way? Did anyone check his papers? He didn’t just hunt down his rivals and take over as if he had the right, did he?’
With that hint, Paul felt as if he was back on more solid ground. ‘He does have the right—as the strongest!’
‘Then I challenge his position as the strongest.’ That was how one took down an alpha after all.
Nixie tugged his arm. ‘Kel, you’ll lose. We should run—not bother with this. What are you trying to achieve?’
This was why he hadn’t told her his plans. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’ He had years of bodyguard training to thank for that.
‘I don’t want you to risk hurting yourself for me and he’s…’ She didn’t complete the sentence, just nodded at the mayor who now lounged on his throne looking vaguely amused by the turn of events.
‘I know. All talk and no trousers.’
‘That wasn’t what I was going to say.’
‘All right.’ François surged to his feet. He had probably worked out that his authority would be dented if he refused and his vanity meant he was banking on an easy victory—that was what Kel relied on. ‘When you lose, I’ll still let you have your five minutes—to be fair to the girl. You, unfortunately, won’t be in any condition to make use of them.’
‘Fine.’ Kel made a beckoning gesture. ‘Come on then.’
François cracked his knuckles. ‘Where do you want to fight?’
‘Right here is good for me.’
‘I should warn you that I was a heavy weight champion before I retired.’
‘Good for you.’ Kel shook out his arms. He wasn’t planning to let him land a punch. As he had taught Meri, never let a stronger person get you within reach. If this misfired—which it absolutely could—then he wouldn’t do well against the bigger man’s weight advantage. Keeping his distance was the key.
François waited until Kel met his gaze. ‘I should also warn you that I’m not exactly human. I am the next step in human evolution.’ With a flourish that produced a gasp from all onlookers including Nixie, he ripped apart his shirt to reveal a blaze of claw marks up his arms and chest.
‘Nice party trick, Frank,’ said Kel loudly. His own markings were prickling but this wasn’t that kind of match. ‘I saw something like that recently,’ like in the mirror, ‘in a circus but that guy did it better. I bet the luminous paint is a pig to wash off.’
Fury creased François’ brow. ‘It isn’t paint.’ He rubbed at it as if to prove his assertion.
‘You had it tattooed? Bad idea. That shiny stuff causes cancer. Didn’t they tell you?’
François lunged, as Kel had hoped. He caught the mayor with a kick to the midriff but danced away before he could be caught.
‘Kick-boxing! That’s cheating!’ squawked Paul.
Kel shrugged. ‘Why? We just agreed to fight. I didn’t agree to a boxing match. I’m not stupid.’
‘You smug little git.’ François went for him again, this time keeping up his guard to block any kicks that Kel might send his way. Kel wouldn’t be able to catch out the experienced fighter again. He circled, ducking the probing punches.
‘Stop dancing around, you fairy!’ growled François. The crowd cheered as his fist grazed Kel’s ear. Kel had failed to see the feint with the left in time to block the right. His head rung. ‘You’re too stupid to let live!’
He knew better than to lose his cool though, letting François’ insults slide off him. ‘But dancing works so well for me. You aren’t as light on your feet as you once were, old man.’
‘I can still take down a wimp like you.’
‘Didn’t the legendary boxer, Mohammed Ali, say that the best float like a butterfly? He wasn’t thinking of you, that’s for sure.’
François grunted and made another connection, this time to Kel’s shoulder. Kel had been unable to move back because he was on the top of the stairs. Time to gain ground for himself and stop playing with the mayor. He’d planted his seed of doubt with his circus remark.
Imagining François as a series of targets, just like the lights on the training rig, U-Can, Kel moved up a gear and let out a flurry of kicks that hit home in three quick impacts, driving François back towards his chair. Kel blocked out the cries and shouts from the audience, ignored Nixie’s terrified exclamations, and focused on what he had to do. He had the mayor on the back foot and breathing hard.
‘Now he’s done it: the mayor will turn completely into a wolf!’ called one of the women. ‘We should run!’
Movement started at the top of the steps to dart back into the building as François let out a roar of frustration.
‘He’s going to change—I just know it!’ screamed another, pulling her companion with her.
Kel bobbed under another punch as the mayor staggered forward. Getting past him, he jumped up onto the stone chair.
‘He told you he was a werewolf, did he?’ Kel shouted.
‘Wolf-man hybrid—he’s the next step,’ confirmed Paul, gloating. ‘You’d better run or he’ll rip your throat out.’
Kel laughed. ‘Paul, Paul: he was lying.’
‘Get off my throne!’ howled François. The sound was exactly that of a wild animal in pain, but Kel knew that it was the suffering caused by having your bluff called.
He’d probably done enough for now to undermine François. ‘All right.’ Kel leapt and landed on the mayor’s back, impact collapsing him to the floor. He shifted to the restraint position he’d been taught, immobilizing the old boxer. ‘Had enough?’
The mayor cursed.
‘Just say “yes” before this gets anymore embarrassing.’
‘Yes,’ ground out the mayor.
Kel immediately sprang up. ‘He’s a fraud. Thought you should know. I don’t want to be mayor really. Go back to holding elections and don’t fall for any circus tricks. Nixie, time to go.’ He grabbed her hand and walked swiftly off through the crowd. He knew that running would trigger their hunting instincts, so he waited until they were out of sight of the crowd, before breaking into a jog.
Nixie hugged the guitar to her chest. ‘You think they’ll be after us?’
‘Oh yeah. When François gets over his embarrassment and reasserts himself.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘This time? Not long.’ A bell rang in th
e courtyard. ‘My hope was that I’d make a few cracks in his authority.’
‘I think you did that. He’s going to be really mad at you.’
‘And he wasn’t before?’
They picked up the pace, Kel taking his turn carrying the guitar. It was hard though: the fight had taken much of his energy and the punches that had connected were still aching. If they hadn’t needed the instrument to earn their bread, he would’ve dumped it.
Hoon and Bitna overtook them by the time they reached the town sign. Seeing them struggling, Hoon relieved Kel of the guitar, slinging it on his back with a scarf borrowed from Bitna.
‘You were…there?’ panted Kel.
‘Never leave a man behind. Thought we might be able to trip some up when the hunt began,’ said Hoon. ‘Try and lead others the wrong way. But we weren’t needed.’
‘Are they after us?’
‘Oh yes. But I don’t know if they want to kill or crown you.’
‘I have that effect on people. Thanks.’
‘What was that thing he did with his skin?’
‘Like I said, party trick.’
‘Pretty impressive.’
‘I’ve seen better.’
They circled round, hoping to lose any followers. They came up to Rashid’s band just as they were striking camp.
Hoon whistled. ‘There may be incoming!’ he announced.
‘From the town?’ asked Rashid.
‘Yes.’
Rashid cursed. ‘I hoped they’d be over that by now.’
His wife muttered something and produced an ancient road atlas, pointing out a route. ‘Good idea, Salima. We’ll head north-west, cross the river, and lose them that way. A couple of you can hang back and see if they go over the bridge but I’m thinking they won’t be bothered.’
With characteristic efficiency, the band abandoned what was unnecessary or would hamper them, and took to the road. Even the little kids played their part, carrying as many pillows and blankets as they could manage. No-Homers lived light because they often had to move on at short notice. No one complained. No one blamed Kel and Nixie for bringing trouble on their heels.