Destiny of the Last Wolf Page 15

  Finally I reach the tunnel and I switch back to my human form. Just hours ago, I was standing here with Duncan, and now I'm here alone. I was hoping against hope that perhaps when I arrived, I'd pick up some faint hint of Duncan's presence, just a flickering ember that would prove to me that he's still alive. But there's nothing. It's as if he's gone. Staring into the dark tunnel, it occurs to me that I could turn and run. Perhaps I should turn and run. After all, if Thomas Lumic has killed Duncan, he'd have no trouble killing me, and he'd probably enjoy the opportunity. All logic tells me I should turn and get out of here as fast as possible, but at the same time I feel that I have to go and find out what happened. I have to see if there's any way I can save Duncan.

  I start walking into the tunnel. It's so dark, an ordinary human wouldn't be able to see a thing. Fortunately, I'm not an ordinary human, and I can see faint outlines of shapes around me. It looks like this is some kind of access tunnel, maybe for the underground train network. After a few hundred meters of walking downhill, I suddenly feel the whole tunnel shake for a moment as a train passes below. Once it's gone, I'm left alone in the dark again, but now there's a different noise somewhere in the distance. I pause, trying to work out what it is that I'm hearing, and then I realize it's not an actual noise - it's more a sensation of a noise, as if something is reaching out to remind me that it exists. I'd love to think that it's Duncan, but it's not. It's something else. I can't help feeling that perhaps it's Lumic.

  As I keep walking, I have to admit that I'm scared. I don't know much about Lumic, but I know that he's one of the few people Duncan's scared of. I've seen Lumic die in the past, but somehow he seems to have been able to come back. And the last time I saw Duncan, I got the impression that he felt Lumic was somehow destined to be victorious. It was as if Duncan wanted to prolong his survival, but he felt that ultimately he would have to die at Lumic's hands. There was always so much chaos around Duncan, it was hard to know what he was really thinking, but I could always tell that there was a degree of fear in his personality. It was as if he was running from some kind of pain, as if he wanted to be constantly distracted from his own fears. Maybe those fears were about Lumic.

  As the tunnel continues to head deeper and deeper underground, I'm overcome by a new feeling. I stop, trying to work out what's happening, and finally I realize that I'm sensing something I've never really sensed before, at least not in such a pure form. I'm sensing death. Someone has died down here. Finally, up ahead, I can see that the tunnel opens out into some kind of room. And coming from the room, I can hear laughter.

  Duncan

  1980 - London.

  It took me a couple of years, but finally I've found her. There are so many questions in my mind, so many things I want to ask Anna, but essentially they all boil down to the same thing: I want to know why she left me. We traveled together for so long, and we had so much fun, and then suddenly one day she was gone, leaving nothing more than a note that said goodbye and told me not to come looking for her. But of course I came looking for her. She can't just slip out of my life like that, without a proper explanation. And now I've finally managed to track her down to a hospital in the north-east of London. Whatever she's doing here, it seems she's been a patient for at least six months.

  I wait until almost midnight before I slip into the building via a back door. I have no intention of visiting during the daytime, during regular visiting hours. I hate that kind of bureaucracy, and the idea that I should in some way be limited in terms of when I come to see Anna. I'm here when I want to be here, and I'm determined to uncover the truth. Although there's a part of me that's worried about her, there's also a part of me that's angry at the way she left me. I'm a werewolf, one of the noblest creatures on the planet. How the hell can a mere human think she has the right to just abandon me like that?

  She's on the eighth floor, in an oncology ward. There's just one nurse on duty, it seems, and she's run off her feet. I manage to slip past with relative ease, hurrying along the corridor until I find a door that has Anna's name written on it. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and find myself in a dark room. From over near the window, there's the sound of someone breathing heavily, as if they're struggling to stay alive.

  "You came," Anna says, her voice raspy and damaged.

  "I came," I say, shutting the door. I reach out for the light switch.

  "Don't," she says. "Leave the light off."

  I take a few steps forward. My vision is good in the dark, and I can just about make out Anna's shape over by the window. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

  "Having a whale of a time," she says, before breaking into a coughing fit.

  "Seriously," I say, "what's going on?"

  "I'm dying," she says.

  "No," I say, "you're not."

  "Yes," she replies firmly, "I am." She pauses. "I have leukemia, Duncan. I'm going to be dead in a few weeks. It's a fact of life."

  "You can't die," I say, wondering if I should just turn the light on anyway.

  "Yes," she says, "I can. And I will. They've given me so much chemotherapy and radiotherapy, and still it's getting worse. They say it's one of the most aggressive forms they've ever seen." She pauses. "I realized I was sick while I was with you. Remember that night in the hotel room in France? That's when I realized I got it checked out, and as soon as it was confirmed, I knew I had to get away from you."

  "I can save you," I say, stepping towards her. I kneel in front of her chair, and finally I see her face: she's lost so much weight, and she's bald, and her eyes have sunk deeper into her skull. She's still got her old smile, though. Beneath the illness, she's still Anna.

  "You can't," she says.

  "I can," I reply. "I can change you. I should have done it a long time ago."

  "No," she says. "You shouldn't. It was wrong then, and it's wrong now. I'm human. I've come to terms with death. I'm ready to face it, in my own way."

  "No!" I say firmly. "I won't let you do this. I can save you."

  "But I won't let you," she replies. "You were right all along, and I've... well, I've made peace with God. I've understood that he had a plan for me, and this is part of that plan. I have no choice but to wait and see what he, in all his wisdom, has chosen to do with me." She pauses, staring at me. "You understand that, don't you?"

  The truth is, I don't understand at all. I've always respected Anna's intelligence, so I don't understand why she would suddenly start believing in God. She's a much weaker human than I ever believed, and I'm overwhelmed for a moment by a feeling of complete pity. Part of me wants to find a way to show her how wrong she is, and to show her that ultimately she's in charge of her destiny. But I also know how stubborn she can be, and that there's no way I can persuade her to listen to me.

  "I don't blame you," she says suddenly. "This is my fate, and I accept it. This is what God had in mind for me." She pauses. "I'm not going to fight against my destiny, Duncan. If this is how the world is supposed to end for me, I'll accept that." She starts coughing again, putting a hand up in front of her mouth; moments later, there's blood on the hand.

  "You don't have to die," I insist. It's insane that while a few years ago I was refusing to change her into a werewolf, now we've switched positions. "Everything you said before -"

  "Everything I said before," she interrupts, "was based on fear. I was scared of dying. I'm not now." She pauses, then she leans forward and smiles. "But you are, aren't you?" she says quietly.

  "Me?" I ask. "I'm not scared of dying. I'm a werewolf, it's almost impossible to kill me."

  "Which makes it all the more terrifying. Humans know it's inevitable, but you can keep fighting and fighting, putting it off and hoping it never happens." She takes a deep breath. "And you have to watch it happen to other people."

  "I'm not scared of death," I say, starting to feel uncomfortable. Anna seems so sure of herself, so certain that she's not scared. It's hard not to come to the conclusion that she's fallen prey to some delusion. S
he's tricked herself into believing that she's not scared, because she assumed she had to face death. Now that I'm here, I have to make her see that there are other possibilities.

  "Then prove it," she says. "Stay with me until the end."

  "No," I say. "I'm not going to sit here and watch you die. I'm going to save you. It won't hurt. Not much, anyway. I just have to bite you."

  She shakes her head.

  "Don't be an idiot," I say, grabbing her arm and pulling it closer. I roll up the sleeve of her dressing gown and see how thin she is now. There's an IV line going into her wrist, but I pull it out. She won't need that any more.

  "I can't fight you off," she says. "I can't stop you. But please, Duncan. Don't do this to me. I don't want to be like you."

  "What's wrong with being like me?" I ask.

  "Everything," she replies. "You're constantly on-edge, constantly worried and trying to keep yourself busy. I could never live the way you live. We're opposites. For me, my own life is fragile but the world around me will live on. That's beautiful. It's comforting. But for you? Your own life is so strong, but the world around you will always be dying."

  I stare at her arm. All I have to do is bite her, and then mix some of my blood in with hers.

  "You think you'll never die, Duncan," Anna continues, "but what happens to you when everything else dies? What happens to you when the world dies? Will you be left sitting on a dead, lifeless world, waiting for even that to be destroyed? And then what? You think I should want to be like you. I think you should want to be like me."

  "I never want to be like you," I say. "Weak and... able to fool myself like this. You can live forever, but you won't because you're scared. You're obsessed with being human." Suddenly, her arm disgusts me and I push it away. "You see this weakness as beautiful, because you have no choice. You're locked into thinking that you have to find some kind of comfort from the fact that you're dying."

  "It's a comfort you'll never have," she replies.

  "And what if I won't let you die?" I ask. "What if I cut through all your bullshit and make you live?"

  "You can't," she says, "because I reject you."

  I stand up. It's time to leave.

  "I love you," she continues, "but I reject your way of life. I reject your refusal to face death. I reject your desire to live a life that has any meaning." She pauses. "But if you can, I'd like you to stay with me. I don't have long left, just a few days at most. Stay with me. Be with me when I die. I don't have anyone else, apart from my grand-father, and he lives too far away. So I need you, Duncan. This is the last thing I'll ever ask of you." She takes a deep breath, and I can hear that she has fluid on her lungs. "Stay with me." She coughs. "Duncan. Please. Stay with me until the end."

  Jess

  Tonight.

  I edge closer to the entrance, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Assuming that it's Thomas Lumic who's laughing, I have no doubt that he must have already sensed my presence, but I'm not sure that I'm ready to go storming in just yet. That's what Duncan would do: he'd go marching into the room, talking crap, and hoping to distract Lumic long enough to set some insane plan in motion; hell, that's probably what Duncan did do, a few hours ago. As for me, I'm a little more cautious, probably because I don't have a plan at all. I keep telling myself that I shouldn't even be down here, that Lumic can kill me without any effort. But I have to come and find out what happened for myself, and I just have to hope that I can find a way to stop Lumic. If there's even the slightest chance that Duncan is still alive, I have to take that chance and...

  Suddenly there's a huge wave of heat, blasting me back from the door and slamming me down hard against the floor. With the wind knocked out of me, it takes a moment before I can sit up and see a wall of flame blasting all around me. With my eyes open wide in shock, I feel my eyeballs start to burn, so I turn my back on the fire and try to roll out of the way. Even at the side of the tunnel, though, the heat is intense, and I can barely get to my feet. My eyes are already healing, and all around there's an incredibly loud roaring sounds as the flames rip through the space. I try to see into the room, and finally I spot a figure stumbling slowly towards me. For a moment, I assume it must be Lumic, but then I see that it's not. It's Duncan!

  "Over here!" I shout, reaching out a hand to try to connect with him.

  He looks across at me, but he looks dazed, as if he doesn't really understand what's happening. The flames are burning his flesh, turning him cinder-black, and the same thing is happening to me. Finally, realizing he can't make his own way to me, I run straight into the inferno and grab him, pulling him along the tunnel. I can feel my bones starting to burn as the flames go through my flesh, and it gets harder and harder to walk. Eventually, though, we stumble out into the clear night air and fall to the ground. I look back to see a column of fire roaring out of the tunnel, but then the pain overtakes me. I look at my burnt, charred hands, with white bones sticking out from beneath jet-black crispy flesh, and I pass out.

  Duncan

  1980 - London.

  Humans are so strange. For some reason, when one of them dies, the others wrap the dead body up in a wooden box and deliver it to the soil so that worms can feast on the flesh. It's as if the worms are gods, and the humans are offering their dead as a sacrifice. I don't think that's actually what happens; it's more the case that the humans like to perform a neat little ceremony around the grave, and then consign the coffin to the darkness so that they no longer have to think about what will happen next. The humans hurry off to persuade one another that death isn't so terrifying, while the worms get to work devouring the corpse. It's so strange. So weird. So insane. So... human.

  It takes me a while to find Anna's grave, because at first I think they've made a mistake. I watch the funeral service from afar, and I see her family - her parents, her siblings, her friends - crying as her coffin is lowered into the ground. I watch as the priest speaks; I'm too far away to hear what he says, but I doubt he knows much about her. He probably doesn't know she spent time hanging around with a werewolf, that's for sure, and that means he doesn't really know her, not like I knew her. It's all just another layer of artifice to add to an already unreal occasion.

  Finally, though, when the service is over and the humans have all left, I hurry over to the grave. I don't know why I'm here, except that I feel some kind of strong desire to come and stand before Anna's grave. The problem, though, is that the grave stone seems to contain a glaring mistake. It reads:

  Annamaria Bruni

  1948 to 1980

  Now, call me Ishmael, but I'm pretty sure that they've got her name wrong. Annamaria? Her name was Anna! And if they've got her name wrong, how much else have they probably got wrong? Damn it, these people didn't know Anna at all! They all thought they knew her, but their version of Anna was just a fantasy in their minds. No, I was the only one who knew the real Anna, and for that - at least - I'm grateful.

  "Did you know my grand-daughter?" asks a voice suddenly from behind me.

  I turn to find an old man standing a few feet away. "Anna?" I ask, surprised to be interrupted like this. "I knew Anna."

  He smiles as he walks over to join me by the grave. "She was a good girl," he says.

  "They got her name wrong," I say, pointing at the gravestone. "She wasn't called Annamaria. She was called Anna."

  "Her family were from the old Czechoslovakia," he replies. "They came here after the war. They named her Annamaria, though she preferred Anna. She would get so angry if anyone called her Annamaria. She said it was a little girl's name, and she didn't want to be a little girl." He pauses. "For a few weeks, after her fifteenth birthday, she insisted that we all call her Maria. Then she changed her mind and said it must be Anna. That name stuck, but her real name was Annamaria."

  "Huh," I say, surprised to find that I was wrong about something as simple as her name. "She never told me that."

  "She never told anyone," he replies. "She simply wanted to be called Anna for t
he rest of her life."

  "She should have told me," I say, stunned that it turns out I didn't even have her name right. If she couldn't bring herself to admit that her full name was Annamaria, what else was she keeping from me? Suddenly I feel as if she was keeping me at a distance, avoiding revealing the truth about her past. I didn't even know that her family came from Czechoslovakia. What else didn't she tell me?

  "She was a complicated girl," says the old man. "She was like her mother."

  "What was her mother like?" I ask. I never met Anna's mother; I saw her body in the wreckage of the car, but I never met her. I don't even remember what she looked like.

  "Stubborn," he says. "Passionate. Right about most things, but wrong about others. She died a few years ago. There was an awful car crash. Anna was the only survivor. Now even she is gone."

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  "I'm an old man," he continues. "I've buried my only child, and her family, and now my grand-daughter. Suddenly I'm the only one left. It shouldn't be this way. No-one should have to bury those who are younger. Why God allows this, I can't understand."

  "She shouldn't be dead," I say. "I should have... She should have lived forever."

  "No-one can live forever," the old man replies.

  "Some people can," I say. "It's what she wanted, but I wouldn't give it to her. I refused to change my moral viewpoint, and now look at how things have worked out. She's gone. I could have saved her."

  "No-one could have saved her," the old man continues. "She had leukemia. The doctors did their best, but they're not miracle workers."