Fratricide, Werewolf Wars, and the Many Lies of Andrea Paddington

By Stephen Bills

Apocalypse: keep it in the family...

It's been three years since Chief Constable Paddington became a werewolf and thwarted the family of vampires who tried to fulfil an ancient prophecy and destroy the world. Three years of peace. Paddington was almost starting to believe that the hard times were over. That he could settle down with his wife. Think about starting a family.
Unfortunately, family and Paddington don't go well together. His father died of a heart attack a few days after Paddington's birth. His mother's dying words still haunt him.
Yeah, family's never been his strong suit, but Paddington is about to become a dad himself. Happy day.
Except now the vampires have disappeared and the Supernatural Help and Investigation Team are demanding Paddington help bring them back. The werewolf pack, though, are howling for bloody revenge. So to speak.
Oh, and there's some question about Paddington's father's death. Specifically, whether it actually... happened.
Just like old times, then. Still, at least there isn't a prophecy foretelling the end of the world...
Right?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Bills
• Release date: Apr 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301640027

Stephen Bills

Born in South Australia in 1984, Stephen Bills is a kilt-wearing Adelaidean with a B.A. in Philosophy, a Graduate Diploma in Library and Information Management, and an M.A. in Creative Writing. When he is not writing, he catalogues books for several interstate libraries, drinks wine (not at the same time), and referees mixed-gender roller derby. All these things leave him less time for writing than he’d like, but he’s getting to it as quick as he can. His Dewey number is A823.4. What’s yours?He writes comedy novels. Specifically, ones that deal with the supernatural and paranormal in some way: ancient prophecies about armageddon, telepathy, indestructable briefcases that alter the fate of the world. That kind of thing.

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Fratricide, Werewolf Wars, and the Many Lies of Andrea Paddington

By Stephen Bills

Copyright 2013 Stephen Bills

Smashwords Edition

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Prologue: Departure

James Paddington opened his eyes, opened his maw, and yawned. Then, since that hadn’t eliminated the night’s torpor, he stretched out from nose to tail. Something didn’t smell right.

He sat up on the bed, ready to bolt or fight, and spotted the intruder: Lisa, curled up on her side of the bed. She’d turned back into a human during the night.

Pity. James always enjoyed when Lisa was a wolf; it was like a holiday from the world. Two werewolves together with the whole island to play on. Now it was over; back to the drudgery of the everyday.

Lisa’s face scrunched in the half-sneeze she always did when she’d changed in her sleep. She woke expecting a long snout and instead had a short nose. Everything was out of shape and size and it took a moment for the brain to fit inside the body.

She blinked away the sensation. You’re awake, then? Lisa ran a hand through his fur then picked her wedding ring off the bedside table and slipped it on. Come on, Jim. Big day.

James closed his eyes and focussed on the dark place inside him and felt himself shift. Not twist or distort. Just… change. His hands and feet extended, shoulders widened, snout receded, fur retracted until all that was left was a two-week growth of beard. One of the odd side-effects of being a werewolf: even if he’d been clean-shaven beforehand, he always had a full beard when he turned back. Once he’d tried changing just for a few seconds: instant beard.

Half an hour later, dressed in his best uniform and bereft of beard, Paddington drove them to the cemetery and stood with the officials before the thousand-strong crowd of mourners.

Today we remember the events of two years ago, Mayor Quentin Appleby said. We remember the zombie horde and the fight at the Tree. We remember those we lost and what it cost us.

There was an understatement. Nearly half of the island had become zombies. Everyone else had helped contain the horde, which in most cases had meant putting an axe into a neighbour or childhood friend.

We pray that the Three-God keep us safe, Quentin continued. May Idryo warm our lives, Enanti grant us community, and Tipote watch over us.

That… that Paddington had a problem with. After all, it was to fulfil a prophecy of the Three-God that the Duke of Archi had created the zombie horde in the first place. It was only because Paddington had called outsiders from off the island that they’d been able to stop it.

And may we always remember our loved ones the way they would want us to remember them, Quentin finished.

Speeches over, the crowd moved away, most to the pubs to spend a raucous morning honouring the fallen. A few drifted into the graveyard to spend time in silent remembrance. Lisa and Paddington walked to his parents’ graves: two grey marble tombstones side by side.

His father’s was old; moss explored its face and the letters were worn by the weather. He’d died just after Paddington’s birth. His mother’s tombstone looked fresh and new by comparison, the embossed letters still black.

Greg and Andrea Paddington. Both gone now. James and Lisa were the only Paddingtons alive on Archi.

Little did they know that in six months, there would only be one Paddington left to stand and mourn three graves.

Chapter One: The Last Supper

Archi had a lot of stupid traditions. You couldn’t see the mayor during the daytime. You never spoke to the duke. You couldn’t access media broadcasts from outside the island. You needed a special licence just to own a computer. Stupid traditions that Lisa hadn’t understood until she’d met the Andrastes and realised that having an ignorant populace was the best defence a vampire could have.

And, after a while, the Archians had embraced it. Why should they need anything that the Mainland had to offer? Why bother with culture, or technology, or knowledge? The whole thing was laughable. Not that James laughed at it. No… hubby dearest could be great fun and he looked for the adventure in everything, but when it came to the Andrastes it was all life-and-death.

Which was why they were back here again. Every month, regular as clockwork. In the sitting room of the Andraste mansion awaiting dinner with the vampires.

You okay? James asked her.

Fine.

You look tense.

The portraits on the walls were staring at her again. I don’t like being here.

Do you want to go? There was the slightest emphasis on the second word. Even if she left, he would stay. She tried telling herself that that didn’t mean he considered her less important than the Andrastes.

It’s fine, Lisa said. It’s safer for me to stay. The last time I left you alone with them, you poisoned them.

With aspirin! James said. And they deserved it.

Chief, said the smoothest voice she’d ever heard. It rumbled in her bones, like the low thum of a bass speaker. Missus Paddington.

And there was Adonis Andraste, Duke of Archi and head of the vampire family. Tall and thin, pale skinned, with an elegant silver moustache. Vertical slitted pupils like a cat’s stared at them with mock warmth as he reached out a dry hand with a strong grip. He looked about sixty, but what did that mean for a vampire?

All is prepared. Please. Adonis indicated to the dining room. The vampires were always very gracious. Perhaps that was supposed to put her at ease, but she’d seen too many bad horror films where the villain pretended to be all silk and sugar but turned vicious the moment the hero’s back was turned.

Hah. Not that James was a hero.

They took their usual places side by side at the table as the rest of the Andrastes filed in: Adonis’s wife Lilith; their sons Leander and Melanthios; and their daughters Niamh, Erato, Guenevere, Clytemnestra, Themis, Phaedra, and Ianthe – all dressed in their fancy old finery.

It made Lisa feel somewhat inadequate. Oh, she’d never been unattractive. Actually, by Archians standards she was – she didn’t look like a monkey and smell like horse shit – but by the standards of the Mainland she was perky and curvy in all the right places. And according to James she was an attractive wolf, too, when he was one too. So that was nice.

But before the Andrastes… It was like their every action put her down. The surety and smoothness of their steps made her feel like a toddler stomping along. There was no way she could compete on their level.

James was either unaware of this difference or ignored it, chatting away with them on the state of the island.

And how are you, Missus Paddington? asked Adonis, snapping her back to the present. How goes your plant business?

Fine, Lisa said.

You continue to breach the Embargo? asked Leander, the eldest Andraste child and a hulking figure of a man.

The Embargo prohibits moving people, not plants, Lisa said, so until you redraft it, I’ll keep shipping off your precious island one plant at a time.

Very entrepreneurial of you, Adonis said before Leander could respond. Are sales improving?

Steadily.

I am pleased to hear that.

Why? Lisa asked. She couldn’t help herself.

Lisa… James said.

Why should you be pleased at my success? she asked Adonis.

Conversely, why should I wish you ill? asked Adonis.

My husband ruined your plan to end the world—

Remake.

—but every month we come to dinner like nothing happened. We swap war stories as if no one remembers we were on opposite sides of the war.

Adonis placed his silver knife on his bone china plate and smiled, a hint of tooth dripping onto his lower lip. We had a difference of opinion, and have been entirely compliant since then. The military specialists you brought onto my island – illegally – I returned home without punishment. I allow you unrestricted internet access, with which you contact said military friends weekly to forestall their coming here to exterminate my family and ruin the life of every Archian. So tell me, Missus Paddington… who holds the power here? Who is the true source of this enmity between us?

Your pretty speech would be more effective if the rest of your family weren’t glaring at me through their slitted eyes.

Lisa, James said. He could be intense when he was excited or annoyed or focussed. Now he was two of the three. Stop.

She should. She knew she should. She shouldn’t have started.

Please, chief, her concerns are valid, said Adonis. As I have told you before, the acquisition of knowledge is everyone’s business.

The sentence hung in the candlelit air as cutlery clacked on crockery and the Andrastes chewed their meat.

Then tell me what she meant, James said.

Adonis didn’t need to ask who she was. She was James’s mother, whose dying words had been Tell Adonis I was right. James still had no idea what she meant and it drove him mad.

Ah, this again, said Adonis with good humour.

Yes, James said, without it, this again, and don’t tell me you don’t know anything.

Adonis eyed James longer than usual. Gods he could be still. Like a statue. Or a predator before the pounce. I can’t propose to know your mother’s thoughts—

Those were her final words. She staved off death to—

"—but I assume it was foolish sentiment, finished Adonis. She was speaking about you."

James’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and back down. Me?

Your mother believed in you. I did not.

Lisa could see the thoughts colliding in her husband’s head. Andrea had always told James that he wasn’t the man he should be. She’d never shown him much affection, never told him she loved him or trusted his judgement.

James hadn’t helped matters. Maintaining – however rightly – that everything on Archi was stupid was the best way to offend a proud Archian like his mother.

And now Adonis was saying she believed in him? Where was the proof?

You didn’t know her, James said.

You did? asked Adonis. The rest of the table had long since vanished from the conversation. James and Adonis might as well have been alone in the room.

At the end, James said.

Then what is your assessment?

Once I’d stopped the prophecy – stopped you – then maybe. James dumped his napkin on his plate. "But by that stage she was dying; all she could do was wish me well."

Adonis frowned. You think she used her final days to placate and lie rather than reveal the truth? asked Adonis.

I think she knew that she could no longer influence me. She could give me hollow reassurances or useless criticism and for once she chose the kinder path.

Adonis shook his head. How fascinating. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin, then rose and rang the bell at the side of the room. The butler emerged and cleared the plates.

When did you discuss her faith in me? James asked.

Adonis sighed as if this were an annoyance, but his eyes were steady on James. Watching. Reading. Analysing. Often.

Then since you’re in such a chatty mood tonight, James said, leaning his elbows on the table and clasping his hands, perhaps you can answer some more questions about the zombies.

A shrug. I am at your disposal.

The first zombie, Marion Valdis. How did she traverse the miles between where she was murdered and Samuel Winslow’s house without being seen?

I haven’t the least idea, said Adonis.

Really? You and your family did everything you could to make that prophecy come true.

"And you did everything you could to prevent it; what of it?" said Adonis.

I’m just wondering whether someone at this table escorted Marion to Samuel Winslow’s house… Whether someone here started the whole zombie horde.

Silence fell. The butler had disappeared with the last of the plates. Each Andraste watched either their father or James. No one moved.

Why couldn’t James just leave well enough alone?

Probably because he was a cop. This was what he did. No loose ends, ever. He had to know everything, no matter what enemies it made him.

Chief, I cannot answer questions to which I do not know the answers.

You’re saying you had no hand in creating the zombie horde?

I am saying exactly that.

The butler re-entered. Telephone for you, detective chief constable.

Guenevere, said Adonis, without looking away, please show the chief to my study.

Constable Clarkson and Mayor Appleby were the only people who knew where they were tonight, making the call both official and important. James broke eye contact and followed the vampire out of the dining room.

Leaving Lisa alone with the whole Andraste family. Great. Another chance for them to call her a trollop. Or worse…

James was alone with one as well. Was this an attack? Guenevere could probably take James in a fight. Well, if she got him before he changed. As a wolf he’d give her a run for her money.

The instant the door shut behind Guenevere, Adonis leaned forward. We haven’t much time, Missus Paddington, so attend closely: is your husband the man you thought he would be when you married him?

I… What was that supposed to mean? And why were they asking? I don’t know wha—

"Please. There was real pain in Adonis’s eyes. His character is of the utmost importance."

I… It would be useless to lie to them, but Lisa wasn’t going to let that deter her.

Except… this was the first time anyone had really asked her about her marriage. Did it matter who was asking? She just wanted to voice the truth. No. He’s the same as before. Shut off.

James had told her why: it was for her own good. As a kid, he’d been peer pressured by one of the older boys into lifting her dress in front of the whole school. Instead of putting the incident down to a child’s poor judgement or a desire to be liked, James had taken it as evidence of some inherent darkness and a capacity to hurt those closest to him. He had therefore shut himself off, told himself that he was different from everyone else. Worse. Reprehensible. Detestable.

The problem was, Lisa could see the man he could be if he just let go of all that self-hate. That was the man she wanted to be with. She’d thought that after their wedding he’d… get better. Open up. Let her in.

Instead, he was the same. Isolated, by choice, from everyone. He was holding something back from her, something he was terribly afraid of.

It’s like he’s waiting, but… I don’t know what for.

I am truly sorry, said Adonis. He has more work to do, but once it is done, then… Adonis almost smiled, a kindly-old-man smile. …then you will be blessedly joined.

What the feck is that supposed to mean?

There is another prophecy concerning the demon.

Shit.

Lisa felt cold. She should have worn a longer dress. Autumn was nearly over; she needed the extra length. These old manors were so cold and draughty.

Why the hell were the Andrastes telling her all this? All their eyes were on her, but this time she felt nothing but pity and anxiety in their gazes. Gone was the usual derision at her class, her Scottish accent, or her werewolfism. Now they just looked… concerned.

Why were vampires concerned for her?

Please, Lisa, Adonis said, rushing through his words, for both of your sakes, let us help you. You needn’t witness what is to come. Let us protect you until… He glanced down at her body, then back to her eyes. …afterward. Then we will reunite you, you have my w—

Adonis stopped. Behind her, Lisa heard the door open.

Is all well, chief? Adonis asked it casually, but Lisa heard the shake in his voice. Was Adonis scared of James? And what had he meant by both of their sakes? If he wanted to help James, why wait until James was called away?

James stopped beside Lisa. We need to go.

Lisa stared at the Adonis Andraste, Duke of Archi. Yeah, we do.

Everything all right? James asked, a hard edge in his voice.

It’s fine, she said. I’ve just had enough Family Time for one night.

* * *

The Paddingtons drove away in their little yellow car, soon nothing more than two red dots disappearing into the trees. Adonis watched them go from the manor’s roof. If only they had had more time to talk with Missus Paddington, to convince her…

Father? said Leander, behind him. His eldest child had always been the most task-oriented. Short-sighted on occasion, but that was useful too, when Adonis over-thought matters.

We leave, said Adonis. Tonight.

And the bitch?

"Missus Paddington, corrected Adonis. Hopefully she will remember what we said. Perhaps she will even stay away. That is all we can do for her at present. See to our departure, Leander. I shall join you once I have said goodbye."

Goodbye, father?

Adonis looked over Archi. At the lights of houses: homes where families lived out their lives without the interference of the Mainland. A safe place. He had watched them live and grow, have families, die. He’d watched the cycle over and over, but it was always new, every time. Different people, different lives, but always special.

This is my home, he said. I might never see her again.

Chapter Two: The Thrill of the Chase

Clarkson was inside the jeweller’s when he heard the car pull up. He shoved the Nepeta Dynatos leaves into his pocket, wiped his nose to make sure no bits of broken leaf were stuck to it, took a final moment of dozy pleasure from the plant’s effects, then blinked to perk his eyes up and went to the front window. By that stage, Mrs Paddington was driving away; her husband was investigating the outside of the shop. Hey boss.

Should you be in there contaminating the crime scene? Paddington asked. Such a stickler for routine.

This is one of your rhetorical questions, isn’t it? Clarkson asked. I’m not in here for funsies, though. I’m checking what was taken.

Paddington stopped at the broken front window. And?

Only what was in the main window, even though the good stuff is further in.

He ignored the bigger payload. Why?

Clarkson shrugged. Not because I interrupted him.

Paddington nodded. Right then, he said, and placed his jacket on the hood of the police car.

Really boss? Right out in the open?

Paddington had removed his shirt. What? It’s too dark for anyone to see anything.

Vampire, Clarkson said, pointing at himself. Impeccable night vision. And you’re— He broke off and as Paddington dropped his trousers, and only looked back when heavy sniffing indicated his boss was now in full beast mode. The big dark-grey wolf approached the shattered window and smelled around, then nodded further down the road and ran off. Clarkson tossed Paddington’s clothes in the car and drove after him.

It was half an hour before the wolf stopped running. Clarkson parked the squad car and a naked man popped up beside the passenger’s door and reached in for his clothes. Cold enough? Clarkson asked.

A bit nippy, Paddington said.

Whose house is this? Clarkson asked.

Max Redclaw.

Priors?

Clean slate. A month shy of adult, as well, so he’ll be tried as a juvenile.

Convenient.

Very. I’ll take the front, you cover the back.

Clarkson fired off a mock-salute and leapt onto the roof of the house as Paddington made his way to the front door. Max’s house backed onto a small lane, so Clarkson perched right above the door in case Max made a run for it.

Paddington dinged the doorbell.

Max made a run for it. Archians always ran. Clarkson liked that about them. There wasn’t a lot he liked about Archi, but he liked that the criminals always ran. Clarkson would complain more about being trapped on such a crap, backwards island, but it was hard to despise a place that housed seven hot female vampires with low low standards and criminals who were such good fun to chase.

Clarkson leapt from the roof onto the alley’s rock wall, but attacking now would be too soon, so he jumped into a nearby tree and stopped. Max heard the noise and looked up, but didn’t stop running.

Clarkson sprang to the ground, bounded onto the roof of a house and ran along its end, then leapt into and out of another tree. Again Max turned to the noise, but this time stopped. Clarkson pictured rumours running through his head: fearful images of things that went bump in the night.

The time was right. Clarkson dropped to the ground. For a moment the kid just watched him. As Clarkson sauntered toward him, a wide array of stupid expressions played themselves out on Max’s face.

Then he ran for his life.

Clarkson felt the chilly November air rush past him as he closed the distance, moving with easy glace, picking every twisting cobblestone in the moonlight as he sprang lightly on Max’s back.

Oh, Idryo! he shouted as Clarkson bore him to the ground and pinned his neck with one hand. Clarkson’s pointed teeth rested an inch from it, ready to bite into his spinal cord or crush his trachea or, if Clarkson was feeling predictable, go for the jugular.

You know, Clarkson said, as he hauled Max to his feet, I don’t know why people try this crap at night. Hasn’t word gotten around by now?

Honestly, what more could Clarkson do? It wasn’t like he was keeping himself a secret here; the problem was none of the locals knew what a vampire was. Clarkson could march past the council chambers – at night, obviously – in an evening suit shouting I vant to suck your blood! and no one would run at him with a stake or garlic.

Stupid duke and his stupid media blackout. How was Clarkson supposed to feel like a proper vampire if no one knew to fear and revere him?

Max stopped flinching long enough to actually look at Clarkson, then let out a relieved breath. Oh, thank the Three-God, it’s only you.

Only him? This was exactly what Clarkson was talking about. No one respected the proper horror of vampirism when it was dressed in a police constable’s uniform. How was he supposed to be dark and brooding when Paddington made him shine his buttons before every shift?

Who else would it be? Clarkson asked. You worried it would be Paddington? Meek little Paddington, with his fine suit and his sticky-uppy hair?

Max’s eyes bulged at the name.

"You’re actually more scared of him than me? Why?"

Because they… say things about him…

Clarkson released Max. What things?

That there was a whole zombie army, and he turned them away with a word. Then when everyone turned up, the Tree in the city garden was cracked from top to bottom and there was hundreds of dead zombies – like, ripped to pieces and stuff – and he was the only one there, and he was naked. Just him… alone, unarmed. He’d stopped them all. Just him.

Urgh. That was just so typical. Clarkson did more of the work than Paddington had, but where were his thanks? Paddington had only cut off Thomas Brown’s head; Clarkson had doused Harold in propane and set him on fire. And he’d done it with a witty one-liner. Where was Paddington’s witty one-liner?

Max wasn’t finished. And they say that he convinced the zombies to go back south and stay there. And he could walk safely among the zombies and bring out all the dead bodies.

Damn. That part was true. Only because zombies didn’t want werewolf brains, though; it was no reason to make a myth of the man. Hell, Clarkson had gone into the zombie zone just as easily and often because he was a vampire. Where was his terrified public?

Piece of crap island.

* * *

It only took Clarkson a couple of minutes to catch Max and bring him back to the house. Paddington was already sitting in the back room, a cup of tea in his hands and another on the coffee table.

Max Redclaw, isn’t it? Paddington waved him to the couch opposite. Clarkson went to slump against the wall, but he didn’t have the body for it. Too quick and light; like he weighed nothing. He could be completely at rest one second and pouncing the next.

Max sat. Paddington handed him a cup of tea.

Thank you, sir.

So… how was your evening? Paddington asked.

They’re all there! Max said, pointing at the backpack full of jewels on the kitchen counter.

I know.

For some reason, that seemed to scare Max.

What I don’t know is why. Paddington said. Not for the money; your parents’ estate will keep you for a few more years. Why steal jewellery you don’t need and know you can’t sell? Who put you up to this?

No one, sir.

Not that Paddington needed an answer. Only Quentin, Clarkson, and the Andrastes had known he was at dinner with the duke tonight. Of them, Quentin had no reason to commission a crime and Clarkson would see it as too much effort. That left Adonis.

Adonis had convinced this law-abiding kid to become a thief just to cut their dinner short.

That was the who. The why would be harder, no doubt.

You’ll pay for the repair of the window, Paddington said.

Max nodded but didn’t make eye contact.

And you won’t break the law again. He paused. Will you?

Max swallowed. No sir.

Paddington believed him. Something had Max Redclaw scared halfway out of his mind. Paddington suspected that the something was Clarkson, but he’d deal with that later. Right now he was more concerned with Adonis’s games. If he’d wanted to end the dinner, why not just ask them to leave? What else did this achieve? Defacing the shop? Destroying Max’s reputation?

Gah. Paddington didn’t understand vampires.

That was probably a good thing.

Paddington drained his tea, nodded Clarkson toward the front door, collected the stolen jewels, and left. At the gate, Clarkson slapped a palm against his head. Oh, wait, he said, we forgot to arrest the guy.

He’ll volunteer for community service, but I’m not hauling him to the station just for obeying Adonis. For one thing, that might be what Adonis wants.

Clarkson shrugged. You’re the boss.

Exactly. Now give the boss a ride home, then write this up.

The lights were still on at his house. It smelled, as always, of vanilla and dirt and fur. Lisa was curled up on the couch in the living room, staring at her laptop.

I caught the guy. Paddington sank into a recliner. It felt good to sit down and relax for a moment. I let him off with a warning, though. I think Adonis put him up to it, but I’m not sure w—

I’m pregnant. Lisa stopped staring into space and focussed on him.

Paddington wiped his mouth. Say again?

I think I’m pregnant, she said, that’s why I haven’t changed since September.

The change from human to wolf was triggered by hormones: testosterone in the males and oestrogen in females. Usually that meant Lisa’s changes were regular as clockwork; she’d missed her last two.

I started looking up oestrogen levels online, Lisa said. I found a graph.

She stopped. Paddington picked up the laptop. If he was reading the picture right, Lisa’s oestrogen would remain below the change threshold until the twelfth week of the pregnancy, after which…

After which it would stay well above it until after the birth.

He looked at her.

Yeah, she said, then went back to staring into space.

She would spend six months as a wolf? The three days each month that she usually spent were lonely times for her, cooped up in the house for fear that if someone saw her they’d consider her good sport and assemble a hunting party. She couldn’t even read or watch television because her wolf mind didn’t find them interesting.

How she would occupy six months was a problem for another time. Right now, Paddington couldn’t keep the smile off his face. You’re really pregnant, he said, so it might sink in. She kept staring vacantly, so he hugged her as well. It was awkward, because she was sitting and he was standing, but it snapped her out