Night Chills (Be Careful What You Follow): Hayteswood: Supernatural Pulps

By Scott E. Douglas

As a screen writer, Jackson Byrd knew what the death of a wife should mean. It should motivate the husband to go on a heroic quest for vengeance. Problem was, when Jackson's wife, Sally Byrd, was murdered, actually torn to pieces, all it motivated him to do was drink tequila, and mouth off in bars where it's dangerous to mouth off in.

 

Sally's best friend, Judy Phelps, had known Jackson since they were in second school and was honour girl at Jackson and Sally's wedding. Now she spends too many nights trying to keep Jackson out of trouble.

 

Well, one night, Jackson went too far in the Brown Dragon Inn and used the w-word where a lycanthrope could hear, get offended, and follow them to Warnton Park. The Park where Sally was murdered, and so many other women were murdered in recent months.

 

What happened? Something unexpected which propelled Jackson and Judy and the offended lycanthrope to a strange place and time. Brisbane, Queensland, September 1988.

 

And Hayteswood wasn't the only place where women were being murdered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott E. Douglas
• Release date: Jul 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201856526

Book preview

Dedication

In keeping with the themes of Hayteswood dedications, this book is dedicated to you, my readers, without whom I wouldn’t bother.

Thanks.

Acknowledgements

There were so many people I asked about what they’d do if they found out the man they loved was a werewolf, and I want to thank you all. It’s an interesting question, and if you feel you want to answer it further for me, feel free to connect on Facebook and let me know. In fact, if you want to let me know how you’d feel if the woman you loved was a werewolf, I’d be equally interested.

Also special shout-out to Lauren Garvey who kindly allowed herself to be subjected to the early version of this work.

Do you like the cover? So do I. The illustration was from an incredibly talented guy who goes by the handle of Artie_Navarre at Pixabay. Click the link to see more of this guy’s work.

Chapter 1: Brown Dragon Inn

STUPID FUCKING BEGINNINGS, Jackson Byrd declared to the nearly empty bar as he tossed his newspaper beside his drink. How the fuck are they meant to go? That’s right. It was night and it was dark, and no woman is meant to fucking die because that’d be bridging her according to these fuckers!

Jackson, stop it, Judy Phelps warned. Darkly beautiful with deep black hair covering a too-pale complexion with piercing blue eyes, Judy had known Jackson since they were in first-school. Although she looked younger than Jackson, she always considered herself his older sister, which was nearly correct. She was eight weeks older than him.

Well that’s a stupid bloody beginning for you, Jackson said. Of course it’s dark if it’s night.

Depends where you are, said Danny Brown, the only bartender at the Brown Dragon who was nearly always there when Jackson was drinking. He was always there because he owned the place, a fact he especially liked reminding Jackson.

I guess there are places where the sun still shines at night. Jackson pushed his empty glass along the bar to Danny and looked at Judy. Can you believe the bastard said he didn’t like that a female character was bridged at the start of the movie?

I think the term is fridged, Judy said patiently. It means a character exists only to die to motivate another character.

I know what that term means, Jackson said. I said bridged and I meant bridged because that character was tossed off a bridge to drown in the murky waters beneath. If I was writing it, I’d kill the bitch, but it won’t motivate my hero to become heroic. That’s not how life works.

And how does life work? Danny asked.

Jackson looked at his empty glass on the bar and raised his eyebrows at Danny.

Danny huffed and poured another shot of tequila.

You kill the woman a man loves, and it motivates him, Jackson said. It motivates him real good. It motivates him to find a nightly bottle of love. I hate the bastard who wrote the review because I agree with him. Yeah, bridge the character. But then be realistic about the fool who loved her.

It doesn’t have to be like that, Judy said.

Fucking werewolves.

Don’t do that again, Judy warned.

Do what? Declare my disdain for werewolves?

Don’t use that word. She looked around the bar.

I’m not afraid, and you shouldn’t be either.

My charms will protect me, but I doubt I can protect you if one comes after you.

Safe as Sally? Do you reckon there’s a little silver coin she could have carried around with her to keep herself safe from that hairy fuck?

That was a year ago.

If I knew who-done-it, do you know what I’d do? Jackson asked her.

What? Judy closed her eyes and shook her head.

This. Jackson drained his tequila and put the glass back on the bar. So tell me Danny-my-boy. Do you like the way I would start that screenplay?

Stick with... Danny sighed. Jackson, you’re bloody good at this. I know you are. Don’t you think it’s about time to start working at it again? Danny nodded to the empty glass

Too busy with the other jobs. Jackson smiled and shook his head.

Well writing a screenplay’s going to be a whole lot safer than them other jobs. Danny took the glass.

Don’t do that on my account, Judy said.

I got another job tomorrow night, Jackson said. Can’t have this interfering with my head.

I think it’s too late for that, Judy muttered.

And you had a job tonight? Danny asked.

Jackson shrugged. Maybe tomorrow’s job was tonight’s.

If it was the same one then you didn’t finish it, and you wouldn’t be in here.

Not safe to think you know me that well, Jackson told him.

You know that’s not true. Danny looked at Judy. See you tomorrow night?

You know you will, Judy said.

Jackson pulled on his black trench coat, went to the door, stepped into the street, and glanced about. Streetlights inadequately lit the night. It was dark, but bright enough to know the street was empty.

You going straight home? Judy asked him.

Jackson nodded.

I’ll walk with you.

You sense something?

Might do. Judy started up the street.

Not that way, Jackson called.

Don’t... Judy huffed. You got a rapier hidden in that ugly black coat of yours?

They never leave me, Jackson said. Coat or no coat. You know that.

No I don’t, Judy said. You got caught without them once before.

Not this time.

Chapter 2: Offense Taken

WHO’S THE ARSEHOLE with the mouth? Luther Davenport placed his empty beer glass on the bar opposite Danny Brown.

Nobody you need to bother with, Danny said and took the glass. Same again?

Luther sniffed and then nodded. Half this time, he said.

Danny put the glass with the other empties and took a half-pint glass to the beer taps.

Must be pretty special if he’s not afraid of offending Lycanthropes, Lucas called.

Nah, he’s just fucking stupid, Danny answered. His wife was killed by one in Warnton Park earlier this year. He’s not over it yet.

How does he know it was a Lycanthrope?

Danny brought the half-pint over to Luther. He doesn’t. Not officially. But he knows some people who do.

Like the girl he’s now fucking?

Danny laughed. Judy? No. She’s not fucking him. They’ve been friends since... he shook his head. ...since as long as I’ve known her. No. She keeps him safe.

So she’s got something special about her?

She keeps him from doing stupid things.

Like using the W-word in a crowded bar? He’s going to get her killed.

Not everybody’s offended by that word, Danny said coldly. Some of us aren’t ashamed of what we are.

You’re one? Luther asked.

Not what I said.

Luther drank his beer and placed the empty glass on the bar. He took a crown token from his pocket and pushed it toward Danny.

I’ll get you change, Danny said.

Don’t bother, Luther said. Put it toward... he looked around at the other patrons in the bar. He pointed to a young red-haired woman sitting with a slightly older, pimply young man. Send her another whatever she’s drinking.

That’ll cause some trouble.

Then keep the money for yourself.

I can’t do that.

Then give the girl a drink. Luther spun around and left the Brown Dragon Inn.

Outside, he sniffed at the air again. So there was a woman with some special skill protecting some bigoted arsehole who wanted to die.

There was growling from inside. The red-head must have been given her drink. The pimply kid wasn’t what he thought he was.

Luther sniffed again. They went in the direction of Warnton Park. How sweet. Just the park to get the woman killed. He strode down the road after them.

WARNTON PARK WAS EVERYTHING Luther loved in a park late at night. It had poorly-lit paths that wound through trees. Not a lot of trees, but enough to hide somebody who might be looking to make some quick money from unsuspecting marks on their way home from the Brown Dragon Inn or the Yellow Partridge Bar or any of the other places that idiots go to drink and stagger into trouble.

Luther liked the park for the sport. Sometimes it was an ambitious ganger who wanted a small windfall from a drunk. They were the game Luther enjoyed. Though outwardly tough guys, they were such pussies.

He jogged up the road to get to the park in time to see the arsehole and his woman on the path, as well as something else. Whatever it was, it was clouding Luther’s senses. It was something that smelled feminine, probably the woman with the bigot, but it was the reason he was there. Something said the woman was in danger, or perhaps the woman was the danger.

He looked for the moon. It was full, but he didn’t need it to be. Not anymore. He could shift without it, and the shift didn’t need to be complete.

Something was wrong.

He ran, yelling at the man and the woman on the path. LOOK OUT! IT’S COMING FOR YOU!

The man turned and flicked his hands downward. Two sabres appeared.

The arsehole was a Night-shade. There wasn’t time to fully transform and protect himself. He looked at the woman. Whatever it was, it was after her. Too many other women died here this year. Luther bolted for the woman.

NO! the woman screamed and fumbled for something in her pocket.

The man with the sabres ran toward him. This was stupid.

NO! the woman screamed again. A bright flash temporarily blinded Luther.

The couple disappeared and Luther fell. He was no longer in Warnton Park. It was a park, that much was true, but it was on a hill. Warnton Park had no hills. Nothing around him was familiar. There was a road behind him with a café that could be anywhere in downtown Ustrurg. Problem was, there was a tall concrete lighthouse to his right and above the trees in front of him was a skyline of buildings of an unfamiliar city.

What was familiar was the sound of a woman crying for help down the hill. He regained his feet and ran toward the sound.

Chapter 3: Albert Street

IT WASN’T EVEN LATE. Constable Georgia Aspen and Senior Constable Martin Daniels had finished walking their usual route about the Roma Street train station. They were just back at the Roma Street cop shop when they were sent to the amphitheatre near the station. Somebody had complained about being harassed by druggies, so someone had to go and ‘demonstrate a presence’. In other words, show their faces, look around, tell the druggies to move on if they saw them, and come back for dreadful coffee.

Well that wasn’t what happened. There was nobody there, but a scream came from Wickham Park, just across Albert Street. It sounded like a woman. Georgia and Martin ran to it.

Although Georgia was just over six inches shorter than Martin, she reached the disturbance first. It was a woman. She’d been pulled away from the road by two men who were dragging her up the old stone stairs that led to the park.

Leave her alone! Georgia yelled.

One of the men pushed the woman. She fell up the stairs.

Fuck off bitch! the other attacker yelled.

Police! Georgia yelled as she crossed the road.

Get fucked! the man yelled.

If she doesn’t frighten you, I’m here! Martin called. He was just behind her. We both got guns, so let the woman—

Martin fell to the ground.

Georgia turned. The world went into slow motion for the next few seconds. A man was beside her swinging a heavy lump of something. She’d barely touched her pistol before another man in a black trench coat ran at them.

No you fucking don’t! Trench coat man caught the other man’s wrist. It was a piece of timber being swung. Trench coat man’s other hand took timber man’s elbow and with a quick flick timber man’s elbow flew upwards as his hand flew downward and he fell backward.

As if he could see what was behind him, trench coat man spun and caught the arm of a man who was mid roundhouse. Roundhouse man’s shoulder was hit so hard Georgia heard it pop, then, like it was the same move, the side of roundhouse man’s head was hit with trench coat man’s elbow. Trench coat man’s arm flew out and roundhouse man fell.

The woman who screamed was no longer there. Two others ran toward Georgia from the stairs, but trench coat man stood in front of her and flicked his arms. It looked like he produced two swords. The other two ran downhill toward the city, followed by their injured friends.

Are you alright? A dark-haired woman put her arm around her.

What? Georgia asked.

Are you alright? the woman asked.

Martin! Georgia bent to her fallen companion.

He’s dead, trench coat man said. I’m sorry. The bastard with the plank just missed his head and smashed the top of his neck.

Georgia bent to feel for a pulse. There wasn’t one.

It was the last thing she remembered clearly. She remembered hearing the sirens. She remembered wanting to vomit, and Alison putting her arm around her and telling her they got the bastard. She remembered hearing a scuffle, a woman screaming, doors slamming, sitting in the station waiting for her husband to pick her up, but it was all blurred. Martin had died beside her.

She told Alison what happened before Barry arrived to take her home. Barry was wonderful. He didn’t fuss too much, but he fussed enough. He gave her the room she needed without being distant and the support she needed without being smothering. It reminded Georgia why she’d married him. Whatever Martin had told her about Barry it couldn’t be...

Martin. That’s right.

Martin was dead and she wasn’t.

Chapter 4: Werewolf on The Stairs

THERE WERE OLD STONE stairs on the bottom of the hill, probably as old as the inland lighthouse on top of it. Luther arrived in time to see two arseholes dragging a young blonde a wearing drab blue shirt and pants.

Help! she pleaded.

Luther took a deep breath and felt the wolf beneath. He ordered the creature to show himself through his eyes and face. The tingle of the beast brushed him and tickled his face.

Let the woman go, he growled.

Who the fuck are— the man pushing the girl pissed himself. He pushed the woman toward the steps.

I’ll fucking kill— the other man didn’t urinate, but the smell of fear made it difficult to keep the wolf under control.

The look of the frightened woman tempted Luther to unleash the creature’s bloodlust, but he didn’t. That’d frighten the woman more.

The two arseholes ran.

Luther let the creature subside back into the darkness within him and he went to the woman.

Come on, he said. Let’s get you out of here in case there’s others around. He helped her to her feet and up the stairs.

There were sirens wailing when they reached the lighthouse on the top of the hill.

The police, the woman said. I should...

No. Luther sniffed at the air. You shouldn’t. There are at least two others and there’s the smell of death. More than two. Where can I get you, so you’ll be safe?

The woman shook her head.

If you need to get to a police station, I’ll get you to one, provided you know where it is, and it doesn’t involve going down there. He pointed to where they’d come from. There was something else in the energies. He didn’t often sense energies. Only when it was something strong, and it was. It also felt wrong.

I just want to go home, the woman said.

Where’s that? Luther asked.

Bulimba.

Where’s that?

South side of the river. My car’s at work.

Where’s that?

St Andrews Hospital.

Luther nodded. Where’s that?

The woman shook her head and pointed up the street. Just there.

Past the lighthouse?

Lighthouse? She looked at the old building. That’s the old windmill.

Windmill, Luther nodded. Makes sense now. It looks like a lighthouse.

I suppose it does.

Doesn’t make sense having an inland lighthouse, even if it is on top of a hill. But you’d expect it to be higher than the trees if it was.

Are you alright? the woman asked. I mean, I’m the one shaking because I was just attacked, but you sound...

I’ll be alright. Are you alright?

She nodded shakily. Better than I would have been if... Thank you, by the way.

That’s alright, Luther said. Can I walk you to your car?

Okay. Well, you can walk me to the carpark. She looked around. And to the car I suppose. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?

I like coffee, Luther said. I’m sorry. I get a little nervous speaking to... new people.

Chelsie, the woman extended her hand. Chelsie Crane.

I beg your pardon?

It’s my name. I’m Chelsie Crane and I’m a nurse at St Andrews.

Oh! Luther took her hand and shook it. I’m Luther Davenport and I’m a Werewolf at... Where are we?

Spring Hill. Did you just say you’re a Werewolf?

I’m an actor.

An actor with social anxiety?

Not when I’m in character.

And that character’s a Werewolf? Chelsie nodded. Where are you from? she asked.

A long way from here, Luther said.

And where are you staying?

Luther shook his head. Haven’t decided yet.

At eight o’clock on a Friday night, you haven’t decided? You don’t have anywhere, do you?

You saw right through me, Luther said. It’s true. I haven’t the slightest clue where I’m going to stay. I’ll probably curl up in a corner somewhere.

Like a Werewolf?

Lycanthrope, Luther said. It’s Lycanthrope where I’m from.

And they speak English there?

It’s not what we call it, but apparently we do.

And you’re in character now?

Yes.

I suppose that explains your accent, the woman said. I live with my parents, and my older brother. We have a spare room under the house. I’m sure my father will be happy to let you stay the night there, especially when he hears what you’ve done for me. Tomorrow’s Saturday and I’m not working. David and I’ll take you to see some people we know at the church. They might be able to help you find your feet again. We’ll get some Kentucky Duck on Wynnum Road on the way. You’re okay with that?

I don’t mind duck, Luther shrugged.

Chelsie laughed. Kentucky Fried Chicken. You’re hungry, aren’t you?

Luther nodded. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he was hungry. I have money, he said and reached for his wallet. He opened it and showed Chelsie the notes it contained.

They’re not Australian dollars, she said.

Of course they weren’t. They were Crown Tokens, the currency of Svidvica, and practically everywhere else on Hayteswood. This place clearly wasn’t Hayteswood.

Chapter 5: Judy And Her Symbols

ALL JUDY KNEW WAS THEY were no longer in Warnton Park, a woman was in trouble and Jackson went to help her. It took a second or two to realise that Jackson had broken three of the attackers and had manifested both of his swords, which frightened another two attackers. It took some seconds more to realise the man on the ground beside the woman wasn’t one of the attackers and he hadn’t been broken by Jackson.

Next came the sirens, the cops, the arrest, the assault of Jackson by a big copper, and the brief trip to the police station. Sitting in a drab off-yellow room in the police station, she was trying to make sense of the past half hour, much to the consternation of the young constable who was trying to get sense of the past half hour from her.

Please help us understand, the poor guy was saying. What I need to know is your name and your address.

I told you. It’s Judy Phelps and it’s 154 Wayfarer’s Way, East Parkton.

Alright, except I don’t know where East Parkton is. The kid shook his head and wrote it down. I suppose it’s near Logan somewhere, he muttered. Now tell me, what happened? Why did the man you were with attack you?

Jackson? He didn’t attack me. It was... I wasn’t attacked. Well I saw him run at me, I saw Jackson step in to do something and... What are you trying to find out about? Was it the man who was on the ground?

Senior Constable Daniels was killed tonight, the constable said gravely. We need to know exactly what—

There was a rap on the door. An attractive brunette came in. She had the kind of face that belonged in a police uniform more than the slight blonde copper. The brunette’s face was hard, the blonde’s face was fresh. Although they both had dark eyes, Judy remembered the blonde’s eyes looked like they could still smile, even though a man had died beside her. The brunette’s eyes looked capable of raising a smile, but they also looked like it had been some time.

Gerry, the brunette said to the young constable. The boss wants you to help him finish up with what he has to do with the computer.

I got class tonight, he said. I was going to go early.

Tell your martial arts instructor you’re busy, because you are.

What about...? he nodded to Judy.

You got her details?

I got a name and address, but—

You’re free to go, the brunette said to Judy. We’ll be in contact in the morning.

What about my friend? Judy asked.

Do you need a lift home?

No, Judy said. But I—

Take her to Smithy to fetch her things. We’ve got too much other shit going tonight to deal with this.

Like what?

Expo problem. That’s all I know. Send her on her way and go help the boss with the computer. Georgia’s gone home and Chaney’s pulling his hair out at the terminal.

What do we need computers for anyway? the constable said.

Commissioner Lewis said we needed computers; so we need fucking computers. The brunette looked at Judy. Sorry for the language, miss. She left them.

He hasn’t been commissioner for months, the constable muttered.

JUDY HAD NO IDEA WHERE she should go once outside the police station. So much of her wanted to panic, but panic wasn’t an option. Where was she? Nothing was familiar. The uniforms the police wore were nothing like police uniforms at home. The brand names of everything were nothing like any of the brands of things at home. Even the cars in the street were nothing like any of the cars or the streets at home.

She wanted Jackson. He was at least familiar, but he was arrested and she... her stomach twisted. She’d get something to eat but she didn’t know what they used for money here. She’d seen some things in what she assumed were shops which had numbers with an S in front of them, but the S had a line through it. What even does that mean? Not silver?

She sighed and looked up the road. There were some lights from obviously some bigger buildings there. Perhaps... Why not? It had to be better than milling about where she was.

It was a business district for a city. There were traffic lights controlling the traffic like there were in Ustrurg. There were people walking around in the same kind of daze like they did in Ustrurg. The place even had parks and fountains like they had in Ustrurg. But nothing about this place felt like Ustrurg. The people spoke the same language, except with a twangy