Coffee and red wine overlaid the multitude of perfumed scents from the
crowd of people. It was not quite elbow to elbow, and the throng was of an
elderly variety that had learned over the years to have consideration for
the movements of others, so we managed to move with some speed across the
floor of the refreshment area. I saw my aunt well before my mother did and
led the way past grey haired gentlemen and blue rinsed ladies to where she
stood with her friend at the top of a stairwell. Behind them the floor to
ceiling windows of the theatre looked out on to a glistening roadway and
the lights of shops. There were few people about this Saturday evening,
those I could see rushing through the alternating drizzle and downpour to
wherever their various destinations might be. It was not a night for dawdling.
I was introduced to the friend, Karen, a short woman of about 60 who was
looking tired around the eyes. It turned out she'd only recently returned
from a trip in Austria and was still catching up on her jetlag. With half
an ear listening to the conversation I let my gaze wander out beyond the
warm enclave and into the night again.
"You're still looking for work, then," said my aunt, including me in the
conversation rather than letting me stand sentinel as the three women
exchanged pleasantries. Her hair looked somewhere between ginger and blonde
this time, I noted. I didn't get to see her that often and it always seemed
to have a different tint whenever we met.
"Yes, it's slow and wearying progress, I'm afraid." I made a face of mildly
amused suffering that had become perfected over the past months of almost
everyone I met asking me variants on the same question, then nodded
politely to the usual condolences. The rich smell of Karen's wine wafted up
to me and I amused myself by sifting through the other odours swirling
around the large room and trying to identify or orient on them in the
window's overlaid reflections. In the past month or so my senses had grown
increasingly more acute, just as my energy levels overall had kept rising.
I was feeling more fit and strong than when I'd been cycling everywhere
down at uni; to the degree where it was almost a bit of a worry. Could it
be the new girlfriend? Nah.
Muted beeping sounded over the PA system and an indecipherable voice
mumbled its way through a warning on, presumably, the time to the second
half of the Philharmonia performance. No-one appeared overly worried by it,
so I assumed there was plenty of leeway still to go. Classical music is
something I enjoy, but the chance to listen to a live orchestra isn't
something I've gone out of my way to seek, and so the assorted schedules
and methods of conduct were still new to me. The last month's midwinter
showing had even more overrun with the grey brigade; it was good to see a
few others in their mid 20's dotted in amongst, along with a greater number
in their middle age. With the age range at least slightly more balanced it
put my previous wonderings as to the future of such institutions as the
Philharmonic if not to rest, at least a little bit closer to drowsy.
Out in the rain a car drove slowly by, headlights picking out the rain
droplets as they fell. Intermittent was now becoming heavier, and I could
see myself walking through quite a torrent to get to the side street where
I'd left the car. Perhaps I should have sprung for the parking fees in the
undercover set up adjacent to the theatre after all. For the moment it was
something to set aside as the second warning came through the speakers and
people started shuffling towards the doors.
Mendelssohn soon had me involved in far less mundane considerations as the
Puck danced freely from the music to my imagination. As well as excerpts
from A Midsummer Night's Dream there was some Bach, a very mood setting
collection of pieces involving violin, oboe and harpsichord. In comparison,
I found the finishing selection to be less flavourful, more like a warm
down after some decent exercise than much of an event in and of itself.
Still, my mood was bright and I'd definitely enjoyed myself. I paused as I
rose and looked over the other audience members, again getting an idea for
the cross section of people that had shared this experience with me. One
guy around my age must have been doing the same, as he caught my eye and
shared a grin and nod.
"Are we going or not," asked Mum, and I moved out into the steadily moving
line for the doors.
"I hope the weather has decided to have mercy on us," I mentioned as we
came out into the vestibule again.
"Doesn't look like it," she responded. "I told you to wear a jacket, didn't
I."
I let that go, despite the fact that in the downpour we could see through
the windows it wouldn't have made much difference. "I'll go get the car.
Meet you under the awning out front, okay?"
She nodded. "Watch out for those crazy drivers."
"Nearly full moon tonight, they're out in force." I winked and went into
the storm.
It wasn't a long walk and no-one else was fool enough to be out in the
weather at this time of night, so I jogged speedily along the footpath,
avoiding most of the larger puddles. With luck my one pair of tidy shoes
wouldn't we completely sodden by the time I got home; my clothing had no
real chance. Down the side street most of the cars had gone already, no
doubt evening shoppers who'd finished their business and wisely moved off
before the worst of the rain set in. My own red hatchback gleamed faintly
in the street lights and seemed to have avoided parking tickets or break
ins. The weather was good for something other than the plant life and ducks
after all. On the lawn of the house I was parked in front of a collection
of vehicles had been lined up. Someone was having a party and was going to
have a churned up lawn by morning as an added bonus, by the look of it.
From beneath a van a dog's eyes reflected light back at me in that luminous
manner they have.
"You poor bastard," I said as I got my keys out. "They could have let you
inside, or at least in the van." The eyes blinked out. Strange, I'm usually
pretty good with animals. Worked at a vet clinic and thought I wanted to be
one for a while, then figured out that I liked them too much to really make
it as a professional. The fact that I spent more time drinking than working
on the A- average I needed to get into the second year of the course had
nothing to do with this decision. Really. Having seen it before I wondered
if the dog had been beaten or hit by a car, its presence here nothing to do
with the people inside this house. Rain forgotten, I found myself compelled
to find out if it was all right and set a foot on the soggy lawn. "You
still there?"
Nothing. No growl, no whimper. Squatting down I grimaced as the water began
to seep into the front of my shoes and the bottom of my trousers. There was
an urgency to my actions that I didn't really understand, more than
misguided compassion where none might be needed or wanted. An odour of wet
fur filled my nostrils and a magnetic quality seemed in the air, the water
on my sleeves the only thing keeping the hairs on my arms from standing up.
Tension built rapidly and I couldn't pull away, the tingling beginning in
my palms and spreading outwards to rest of my body like a slow and
personalised electric current. I'd never felt anything like it before and
it began to scare me. I wondered if I was having some sort of seizure. One
hand went down into the muddy tracks beneath the van's overhang to steady
myself, then slipped forward, and I felt something move close by. There was
a brief twinge of pain as claws scrabbled for purchase, trying to get away
from the intrusion, and then a jolt that threw me off the lawn entirely,
smacking my head into the side of my own car. A dog howled in pain and then
choked off.
"What the hell?" I managed to gurgle, dazedly looking at my numb hand.
There was a new scar there which looked more like a burn mark than anything
else. Raising my head painfully to follow my course of flight to its
beginning I gaped at the sight of a blackened but very human hand
sticking out from the covering shadow of the van. It jerked spasmodically
and my mouth fell open further as I saw the fingers flex despite the damage
and then fill out slightly, healing before my eyes. Collecting the keys
from the verge grass beside me I fumbled with them and managed to get in my
car and away up the street before light from the door of the house spilled
out onto the front yard.
Breathing like I'd just run ten times the distance to the car I pulled out
on to the main road and had the presence of mind to put my headlights on. I
realised I was in a degree of shock, but whether from that weird jolt or
the realisation that there had been a shape shifter right next to me I
couldn't tell. Sure, you know they're out there, but it's entirely
different to come face to face, or hand to paw, with the reality rather
than hearing about it going on in America. Our supernatural component was
supposedly a lot less active in human terms - the Patu-paiarehe might dance
when the mists came in certain areas, and the occasional Taniwha sightings
were still reported, but things like werewolves weren't native. Like AIDS,
most New Zealanders figured that we'd gotten off lightly, even if the truth
wasn't that simple. The thought that vampires, werewolves and the rest of
the crazy stuff seen on news reports from the States could be happening
here, behind the scenes, filled me with dread. They weren't protected by
laws here, quite the opposite, so anything overt would be counter
productive in a big way. A fatal way. Not a good thing to be a witness to.
Mum's look of impatience quickly turned to one of bossy concern. "You're
soaked. And white as a sheet. Coming down with something if you're not
careful, I'll bet. You'd better have a shower after you get home."
This was more like it. Reality. "Yes Mum."
There was still a tingle at the back of my neck, reminiscent of that from
before, but I disregarded it. My imagination was bad enough at the best of
times and this was certainly not one of those. Throughout the drive I
wondered who the hell I could contact that would be of any use. Psychics
weren't exactly commonplace either, but they did tend to be registered and
might know something useful. I'd seen some do their thing in guest lectures
to the Science Faculty over the years. Creepy but cool. Yep, that seemed
the only option other than just pretending nothing had happened and taking
the chance that that houseful of whatever-they-might-bes would do the same.
