Robert Rankin - Retromancer

And so I dragged open the bolts on the steely coffin, swung wide the steely lid and cried, ‘Kill, boy! British soldier dressed as a dog! Kill, boy! Good boy! Kill!’

Well, there was always the chance that it understood English and I must say that considering the speed with which it left its metallic prison, it was certainly eager for freedom.

I now did duckings of my head as the fiends fell to hideous conflict.

The Hellish Hound and the Werewolf Monster tore at each other in fury. From what I could see of the maelstrom of violence, they appeared to be quite evenly matched.

I had never been a betting man. It was just one of those things that never had come into my life. And anyway I was too young to enter a bookies and really did not understand quite what went on within them. But if I had had to place a bet upon which monster was going to survive the fur-flying holocaust, I would have been really hard put to it to choose.

So I just slunk away, white-faced and trembling, and left them to sort it out for themselves. And I was halfway back along that narrow corridor when they came bucketing after me, bloody claws and teeth a-snapping and a-tearing. And I found some vigour in my legs now and so I took to my heels.

I made it up to a deck that I had not visited before. Perhaps it was one of those decks frequented by the lower classes, who like to dance jigs upon them, or sing Irish songs about sorrow and spuds. Or sorrow for lack of such spuds. But whatever the case, it was presently deserted and I burst onto it followed by two flailing monsters.

I tried hard to run, but tripped on my face and prepared to meet my maker. Howls and horror, growls and screams and moans and so much more.

Then nothing.

Then a kind of double splash.

And I raised my eyes and crawled to the side and peered down into the water. But the moonlight shone serenely upon the mirrored surface and all was once more calm and peaceful, pale and tranquil.

‘Well,’ I said, rising and dusting down my dining duds, ‘I think that went rather well. We can chalk that one up as a success, I think.’

Which of course was not the thing to say, because whenever you do get a bit smug and make a remark like that, something will always pop up, spoil the moment and smack you back down to the ground.

This of course was just such an occasion, and the voice that I heard chilled my heart.

‘You have murdered my sister,’ cried Esmerelle, and then she was upon me. She hauled me to my feet and swung me around and as I stared into her beautiful face it transformed right there before my very eyes.

‘Only me now!’ she cried and she howled like a wolf. ‘And so I must have revenge for the death of my sister. I’ll tear your throat but let you live, and you shall be like me.’ And so there was a terrible ripping and tearing of clothing and the beast rose up to gnaw at my throat and transform me into a werewolf.

And I prepared once more to meet my maker. Hopefully to meet my maker, for death would be better than the werewolf alternative.

And the terrible jaws with their terrible teeth came closer and closer and cl-

But then I saw that wolf face seem to fold, the jaws gaped wide but then dropped slack and I heard a swish and a swish and a swish and the monstrous beast fell past me.

It plunged over the rail and down and down and into the ocean below.

And I stared boggle-eyed into the face of my deliverer.

For Hugo Rune was wiping down the swordstick blade of his stout stick cane.

‘Well, Rizla,’ he said. ‘This is a sorry business. You look, I must say, just a little pale, caught there in the light of THE MOON.’

THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE

We sat at the bar upon chromium stools and I had an all-over shiver. Hugo Rune ordered me something strong and Fangio served it to me.

‘It was horrible,’ I told the Magus, as I poured out the details. ‘They were going to eat me. Horrible it was, just horrible. And Baron von Bacon’s Hell Hound was on board too. And that was really horrible and-’

Hugo Rune nodded in a manner suggestive of the fact that he knew just how horrible it all was. And then he did sniffings at me. ‘Pooh,’ he said. ‘You really pong. First it was of horses from the Tower of London, and now-’ and he sniffed and did noddings of the head ‘-a perfume created from the gonads of the white wolf. Such a scent would surely attract any wolf, were or otherwise.’

I drank some more and grew sulky. ‘And they all knew,’ I grumped. ‘These rich swine, when they sniffed me and turned away their heads, they knew I was marked for death.’

‘If this has, as I suspect, been going on for some time, then it would be a case of “rather him than me”.’

‘It has been going on since the start of the war,’ I said. ‘Those monsters have been living aboard this ship since then.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘I have not encountered one of their kind for more than fifty years. My blade, thrice-blessed for such business, has happily not lost its edge.’

‘And you have saved my life once more,’ said I, brightening. ‘And I am very grateful for that. Thank you so much, Mr Rune.’

‘I could not let my acolyte come to harm. Even if he did ignore my plea and swan off to dinner instead.’

‘Your plea?’ I said.

‘The message you received in the dining salon.’

‘So it was you who wrote the message. But-’

‘You fail to understand. Yes, I see. She slipped me a sleeping draught, Rizla, this Esmerelle of yours. A Mickey Finn, as it were. She arrived at my suite with a cocktail that I had not ordered and then waited while I drank it. I was tricked once more, Rizla. I really do feel that I am losing my edge.’

‘But the message?’

‘I felt the drug taking hold and I feigned unconsciousness. She left my quarters, then I hastily scribbled the note and rang for room service.’

‘It said you were dying,’ I said.

‘I might well have been.’

‘You just looked like you were sleeping peacefully when I saw you.’

‘A sleeping draught will create such an effect, Rizla. They wanted me out of the way while they dined upon you. They were no doubt thinking to reserve me for the next full moon. Had you taken my message at face value you would have sat with me in my bedchamber, and possibly remained safe until I regained consciousness. However, you-’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘All right. You just looked so peaceful and all those medics were there.’

‘In on the conspiracy,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘I can assure you, Rizla, they felt the wrath of my stout stick when I awoke.’

Fangio served us further drinks and these we downed in silence. Presently Fangio tired of this silence and took once more to the toot.

‘I was chatting,’ said he, ‘with the first mate. And the first mate says that this is the worst trip he’s ever been on. And he’s travelled on some stinkers – he was aboard the Sloop John B, you know.’

‘Really?’ I said. And I yawned.

‘And there’s three waiters working here who survived the Titanic.’

‘Really?’ I said. And I yawned while I said it.

‘And the captain fell overboard on our first night out and was drowned.’

‘Nobody mentioned that,’ said Hugo Rune.

‘The first mate said that they didn’t want to panic the passengers. Lots of posh Eastern European nannas and suchlike.’

‘Hm,’ I said, without a yawn. And then said, ‘Hm,’ again.

‘So, being a democratic crew, they drew lots to see who should captain the ship.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘I think I know what is coming. Break out the lifeboats, Mr Rune – Captain Fangio is steering us into an iceberg.’