Inspector Hobbes and the Curse - a fast-paced comedy crime fantasy (unhuman) (42 page)

Something
rustled.

‘Mr
Bullimore?’

There
was no reply.

I
was trying to convince myself it had only been a rabbit or something, when I
received a tremendous blow between the shoulder blades. Falling forward, my
torch flew from my hand like a rocket, clattering into a tree, the light going
out.

I
came to, sprawled on my front, wondering if I’d gone blind. My head was
throbbing, my back sore, and I could taste blood. Noticing a familiar,
unwelcome smell, I groaned.

‘Welcome
back,’ said a cold voice.

‘Felix?’

His
laugh made me shiver.

‘Where
are you?’

‘Over
here.’

Though
I couldn’t see him, as I pushed myself into a sitting position, it sounded like
he was in front of me. I didn’t feel too scared, being oddly reassured that I
wasn’t alone, not really believing he’d do anything too serious. I hoped Mrs G
had already taken care of his henchmen.

‘I
think something hit me,’ I said.

‘Like
this?’ he said, from behind, as something thumped into my back, knocking me
face first into the pine needles. I sat up rubbing my neck.

‘Pain
in the neck?’ said Felix, which sounded more like an accusation than a
question.

‘That
hurt.’

‘It
was meant to.’

‘Why
did you hit me?’

‘Why
do you think
I
did it?’ His voice now came from my left side.

‘Because
there’s only you here with me.’

‘Are
you sure?’ he asked, now on my right.

‘Where
are you?’

‘Here.’

A
blow to my chest sending me crashing onto my back, I gasped with the shock and
moaned.

‘Shut
your mouth! You’re pathetic, and the fun’s hardly started.’

As
I rolled over and got to my knees, a stunning blow to the back of my neck sent
me sprawling, a galaxy of spinning stars filling my head. Hot blood pumped from
my nose, pooling in my mouth, and my only consolation was that I couldn’t see
it, as I attempted to staunch the flow.

I
couldn’t even try to fight if I couldn’t see him. Screaming for help was an
option but, before I could give it a go, a clout to my ear knocked me against
the rough bark of a tree, leaving me dazed. By then I was filled with cold,
hard fear.

‘I
thought I told you to shut your mouth? Did I tell you to shut your mouth?’

‘Yes,’
I said, spitting blood.

‘So
shut it before you make me angry.’

Something
growled behind me. My heart was thumping, my breathing was too rapid, I felt
sick and everything seemed distant. A cuff across the back of my head made
pretty lights dance to the throbbing pulse of pain and all I could do was curl
up into a ball like a hedgehog, wishing I had a hedgehog’s sharp spines.

As
I lay there stunned, my mind fogged with fear, a memory resurfaced of a holiday
long ago. I was barefoot, playing in a sunlit garden, blotched with the long,
dark shadows of enormous trees, a big, old house in front of me, with a patio
on which my father, sitting on a stripy deckchair, was reading a newspaper. I
must have been about six or seven, because my sister was there in her
pushchair. A shiny blue and red ball lay in the long grass at the edge of the
lawn and, as I ran to kick it, my sister’s unexpected scream distracting me, I
missed and felt a sudden pain. I fell down crying, blood oozing from several
little holes in my foot, my father hurrying to see what was wrong. He picked me
up, laughing, and pointed out the small, spiny creature curled up next to my
ball.

‘You
know something, Andy?’ Felix hissed, ‘I don’t like you.’

I’d
already guessed as much.

‘You
won’t do as you’re told. I say, leave Violet alone and what do you do? You get
her into a car crash, wait until she’s recovered and try it on again. I might
have respected you a little if you’d had the balls to stand up to me, or even
if you’d visited her in hospital, but you haven’t.’

‘I
would have visited if I could.’

‘Shut
up. What’s more, you hang around with that freak Hobbes, which is not right.
You should not associate with his sort. Even worse, you keep company with the
vermin from the farmhouse down there and it makes me sick to the stomach to
think someone like you has been with my sister, has touched her and shaken my
hand.’

‘I
haven’t “been with” her, whatever that means. I just want to be friends,’ I
said, sitting up, trying to get to my feet against the tree. Despite my fear,
my anger was rising, until a thump to my solar plexus folded me up like a
penknife.

‘Did
I give you permission to speak? No, I don’t believe I did.

‘What
sort of person are you? Do you actually enjoy mixing with vermin? It’s
disgusting and shows you’re no better than they are. If anything, you’re worse,
because that mongrel scum has no choice; they were born like it and they’ll die
like it, and the sooner the better.’

Spitting
out another mouthful of blood, I tried to catch my breath, hoping my head would
clear, groping for a stick, or anything to try defending myself, though, unless
I could see, I doubted it would be of any use. His ranting, seeming entirely
unhinged to me, was even more terrifying than the actual violence.

Although
I thought I couldn’t see a thing, I noticed there were two small, greenish
glints, apparently hovering close together in mid-air just about where I
guessed Felix might be. I stared at them, fascinated, while he continued his
insane, though precise and articulate, diatribe against Bashem, Bullimore and
Hobbes, until, when they blinked, I realised they were eyes, though human eyes wouldn’t
glint in the dark like that. Knowing Felix had a panther with him reduced me to
a quivering jelly of a man, for even a beating had to be better than being
mauled. I concentrated on being as still as I could, on keeping quiet and on
controlling my breathing.

Felix
stopped talking as distant shouts were followed by cheers. I guessed he was
listening.

I
tried to see things from his point of view: his not liking me was, perhaps,
understandable, his protectiveness towards Violet was admirable, in a way, and
I could see why anyone might regard Hobbes as a freak, since he often appeared
pretty freakish to me. However, I could see no reason for hating the Bashems so
much for, although they were undoubtedly werewolves, the mere fact making me
nervous, despite all Hobbes’s assurances, they’d done nothing, so far as I
knew, to deserve the loathing Felix had heaped on them. Yet, since he was no
longer spouting his nonsense, I hoped he might have calmed down, and risked
opening my mouth.

‘Why
do you hate the Bashem family so much?’ I asked, my voice sounding thin and
shrill.

‘Because,’
he said, apparently in the mood to talk, ‘those half-breed werewolves are
nothing more than vermin that pollute the good earth.’

‘But
they don’t … umm … cause any harm, do they?’

‘They
exist. What more harm can they do? Werewolves are an abomination and their
mongrel spawn are even worse. It was one of them that frightened Violet and
caused the crash. She might have been killed. Doesn’t that mean anything to
you?’

‘Yes
… but she didn’t have to drive like that.’

‘She
had to get away from the filth. She was disgusted and knew you’d be no defence.
You’re not on their side, are you?’

‘No
… of course not. I didn’t even know they were werewolves until Mr Bullimore
told me tonight.’

‘Yet
you still stayed with him? Did it not disgust you?’

‘I
wasn’t … umm … disgusted – not really. I don’t know much about them but Hobbes
says werewolves are shy and pretty harmless.’

‘And
you always believe what that hulking freak says?’

‘Well,
not necessarily,’ I answered truthfully, still finding the whole werewolf
concept deeply and fundamentally alarming. Yet it was the way Felix talked
about Hobbes that disturbed me most. I wasn’t sure why at first, since I’d
thought much the same often enough, though not in the same words. Anyone might
regard him as a freak – any police inspector who wasn’t human was certainly
abnormal. At length, I realised: most people just accepted him at face value,
as a police inspector. He might make them uncomfortable or scare them, but hardly
anyone recognised he wasn’t human, at least not until they knew him well, and
few knew him as well as I did.

I
risked another question. ‘Umm … why do you think Hobbes is a freak?’

‘Because
he is.’ Felix laughed, though without any humour. ‘He’s degenerate, he stinks
like a bear, he sniffs like a dog and he looks more than half like an ape. I
don’t know what he is but he’s not human, though he seems to have you fooled.’

‘Oh,
no.’ I shook my head. ‘I worked that out long ago.’

‘Well,
then, since you’re so clever, perhaps you’d explain what he is?’

‘Umm
… I don’t really know. I just know he’s … umm … unhuman.’

‘And
yet, you continue to share a house with him and that crazy old woman. How do
you stand it? It makes me ill to think of it.’ The noise he made, indicative of
disgust, almost sounded like a growl.

‘I’ve
got used to it. He’s not so bad when you get to know him … umm … most of the
time he isn’t. Anyway, he’s nowhere near as strange as some of the other people
round here.’

‘There’s
truth in that,’ said Felix. ‘When I came to this backwater it was purely for
business reasons; there was money to be made in developing this place. Parts of
the town look like they haven’t changed for centuries. It needs modernising and
I’m the one going to do it.’

‘By
fair means or foul?’

That
produced a genuine laugh. ‘You’re right there, Andy. I might occasionally break
the rules, or someone’s legs, but you’ve got to be ruthless to get on in my
profession. I can’t afford to let niceties get in the way of progress.’

‘You
got an elephant to demolish the Greasy Pole.’

Another
laugh. ‘Sometimes a flamboyant gesture pays dividends. Eric and I have since
come to an arrangement that is mutually beneficial. I get his filthy café, for
which I should get a medal, and he gets to keep his looks, such as they are.’

‘And
what about Featherlight?’

‘That
fat, filthy bar keeper,’ said Felix, allowing a tone of grudging respect into
his voice, ‘is proving more difficult. He’s a stubborn man and as tough as his
steaks, though he’s got no brains; that runt who works for him does the
thinking.’

‘Billy?’

‘Yes,
but that drunken dwarf won’t be a problem much longer.’

‘Why?
What are you going to do to him?’

‘Me?
I’m not going to do anything but the poor little chap really should check his
brakes more often.’

‘That’s
despicable.’

‘Thank
you.’

A
thought occurred. ‘Umm … was it you killed Henry Bishop? And why?’

‘I’m
afraid the dear departed Henry got greedy and thought it might be a good idea
to blackmail me, since I’d employed his skills on a couple of little schemes.
He had to go.’

‘So
you set a panther on him?’

‘If
you like. I regret the incident spoiled Violet’s evening. It was sheer bad luck
you picked that place.’

‘It
was Hobbes’s idea. He told me it was a good restaurant.’

‘Hobbes,
eh? He’s behind all the problems round here.’

I
shook my head. ‘No, that’s not true. Whatever you think of him, he’s the one
doing most to keep the peace. If it wasn’t for him there’d be a lot more
trouble. In fact I know some people choose to live here precisely because they’ve
heard he’s fair and won’t let anything happen to them because of what they are.’

‘That’s
just my point. Don’t you see? If not for him, the weirdoes wouldn’t keep coming
here and, if any did, the decent folk could kick them out and good riddance.
But Hobbes’s days are numbered, like all the other freaks. After I’ve rid the
area of the filthy werewolves, I’m going to drive all the weirdoes and deviants
out, and make it a place fit for decent people.’

His
voice, determined and utterly terrifying, boomed through the woods as if he
were addressing a rally of his supporters. Furthermore, the pale eyes kept
staring at me, adding an even darker dimension to my fear, though I knew one
thing at least was good: so long as he was talking, he wasn’t hitting me or
setting his panther on me. It appeared that he appreciated a captive audience,
and I suddenly realised his words might be evidence, especially should a few
intelligent questions prompt him to reveal more than he should.

‘What
d’you mean drive them out?’ I asked.

‘I
intend to clean out the filth by whatever means necessary and if that means by
force and fire, so be it.’

‘And
if they still won’t go?’

‘They’ll
go. I have my removal men.’