Forever After - By David Jester Page 0,33

point at the tip of an alleyway across the street, Michael watched the man in the window blink away the sunshine, groan and then duck back behind the curtain.

Behind him James Waddington broke a silence that had only previously been punctuated by the catcalls of domestic violence and the urgency of police sirens in the adjoining streets.

“I feel exposed,” the recently dead man complained.

Chip looked him up and down. “You’re naked,” he noted.

“It's not that, it’s just--”

Michael turned his attention away from the bed & breakfast opposite, the small man operating reception, just visible through the main window, had now picked up a paper and was flicking through the Sports section.

“No one can see you,” he interrupted.

“No mortal anyway,” Naff corrected at the back of the group, hovering in a slight shadow provided by an overhanging drain pipe. “There are a few exceptions though.”

James was pacing back and forward. Trotting to and fro like an agitated horse in a stall. “Don’t I need to be somewhere else?” he wondered, not looking at anyone in particular. “I feel like I need to be somewhere else. Are we going soon?”

Chip watched his nervous movements with something resembling awe and amusement. “Is he mad?” he asked.

“I feel like I’m going that way,” James answered for him.

Chip turned to Michael, the beacon of knowledge in those situations. “I thought they needed to stay near their body,” he said. “Is that why he’s…” he glanced at James and then lowered his voice. “Losing it?”

Michael frowned at Chip. “He’s fine. And they can go where they want when they’re with me.”

Chip wasn’t convinced. “You think it’s safe to bring him here? They can see him and the last time they saw him they tried to kill him,” Chip looked confused, he scrunched up his ugly little face. “Again,” he finished meekly.

“I’m not going back to work until I catch these guys,” Michael told his friend. “Just go down there with him,” he gestured deep into the alleyway, which narrowed towards a rusted metal door beside two grey dustbins. “Stay low; keep him hidden.”

“Crawl into the alleyway with the naked man,” Chip said distastefully. “Sure, why not.”

Chip motioned for James to follow him. They walked to the end of the stretch of alley and ducked behind the bins, concealed but for a thin slice of naked flesh.

Michael watched the two go, turned back to the window of the bed & breakfast and then checked his timer.

“Five minutes,” he said.

Naff took a step forward, sliding up alongside his friend, his eyes also now on the window of the small establishment across the street.

“Why did you get an early warning on this guy and not the others?” He eyed up the man through the window. “Are you sure he’s a werewolf?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see him. I saw someone else, brief, but enough for me to get suspicious.”

“And if it’s not him, if it’s not them?”

Michael shrugged impassively.

Naff stuffed his hands into his pockets. He looked around with a casual boredom and then wondered. “You ever deal with so many deaths this close together before?”

Michael gave a brisk nod. “A few years ago a dodgy batch of pills was circulating the pubs and clubs. I took in six poisoned kids in one weekend. I’ve seen murders. Drug deals gone wrong. Escalated domestic violence. Had one fifteen year old kid kill his grandmother when she refused to lend him a tenner. Never anything like this.”

Naff nodded, looking slightly worried. “What are we going to do if they do show up?” he wanted to know.

Michael grinned from ear to ear. A telling grin that Naff didn’t appreciate. Don’t worry,” he said confidently. “I have a plan.”

“Great.”

****

When a sleek silver vehicle slowed to a stop in front of the bed and breakfast, Michael knew he was witnessing the arrival of his targets. The car was an immaculate, expensive machine; its tinted windows shaded the occupants within. It was out of place in a town like Brittleside. The tinted windows were a common theme with the town locals, but they were usually fitted on broken relics barely fit for scrap and came with crude paint jobs and sound systems more expensive than the car that contained them.

The two men in black suits slowed clambered out of the car, as if to further dispel any suspicions that Michael did not have. He watched them stand momentarily by the front door of the B&B. They checked their surroundings, failing to see Michael and Naff