Simon Green - The Spy Who Haunted Me

There didn’t seem much to say about that, so I turned to the Blue Fairy. “When you were a major player, who did you work for, apart from my family?”

He shrugged. “Anyone who could meet my price or had an intriguing case. I always was a sucker for a pretty face with a sob story . . . I was a regular at the Hiring Hall for many years. Had my own stall for a while. Go anywhere, do anyone . . . But nothing lasts, particularly not in this business. Soon enough they want to be rescued by a younger agent with less mileage on the clock; someone whose glamour isn’t quite so faded.”

And then he broke off and sat up straight. He cocked his head slightly to one side, as though listening to something only he could hear.

“It’s out there,” the Blue Fairy said quietly. “In the dark. Watching us.”

We all looked around us, trying not to be too obvious about it, but the dark held its secrets to itself. But gradually, bit by bit, the shrieking and shouting from the local wildlife died away, birds and beasts going to ground in the presence of something more dangerous than themselves. The night seemed suddenly larger and more threatening. A tense, brittle silence, as though everything in the world was holding its breath to see what would happen next. The only sound left was the quiet crackling of the fire. Almost without realising it, the five of us stood up and formed a circle around the fire, standing shoulder to shoulder staring out into the night so nothing could come at us undetected. The Blue Fairy stood to my left, almost quivering with eagerness.

“Are you sure about this?” said Peter. “I can’t see a damned thing.”

“Oh, sure,” said Honey. “The whole forest has fallen quiet just because it can’t wait to hear your next story.”

“It’s out there,” said Blue. “I can feel its presence like a weight on the world, a disturbance in the night. But . . . I can’t tell what it is. It’s natural and unnatural, both at the same time. Strange . . .”

“Is it human or animal?” said Walker, practical as ever.

“It has elements of both,” said Blue. “But if I was pressed, I think I’d say neither . . .”

“Is it dangerous?” said Honey.

“Oh, yes,” said Blue. “I can smell fresh blood on it.”

“As long as it doesn’t turn out to be some kind of ape or missing link,” said Peter, his voice just a little too loud and carrying for my liking. “Probably end up throwing its poop at us.”

“It’s not an ape!” Blue snapped, not looking around. “Nothing so ordinary . . . Something about this creature puts my teeth on edge. Just making mental contact with it makes me want to wash my soul out with soap.”

“But all the descriptions of Sasquatch agree on a large, hairy, manlike figure,” said Honey. “If not actually an ape, at least some kind of protohuman.”

“No,” the Blue Fairy said flatly. “Not an ape. Not human. Nothing like that. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if this is a Sasquatch at all. Perhaps this is something else, something different . . . and that’s why Alexander King sent us here instead of to the more usual Bigfoot locations.”

“Okay,” I said. “No one make any sudden moves. We don’t want to frighten it off after waiting so long for it to put in an appearance. If it retreats into the dark, we might never find it again.”

“Quite,” said Walker. “Last thing we want is to go rushing off into the dark after it. Only too easy to split us up and pick us off one at a time.”

“Are you worried about the Sasquatch, or one of us?” said Peter.

“Come on, Blue,” I said. “We need information. What can you tell us about this creature?”

“It’s not natural,” the Blue Fairy said doggedly. “I can feel the wrongness in it, like teeth gnawing on my instincts. There’s a basic wrongness to it, an instability . . . Yes! That’s it! The damn thing’s a shape-shifter. Sometimes one thing, sometimes another. Sometimes human, sometimes something else.”

“You mean it’s a werewolf?” said Walker.

“Damn,” said Honey. “And me without my silver bullets. Did any of you ever wonder why the Lone Ranger only ever used silver bullets? I always felt Tonto knew more than he was telling . . .”

“If we could stick to the point, please,” said Walker.

“It’s not a werewolf,” said Blue. “I know what they feel like. This isn’t any kind of were.”

“If it is a shape-shifter,” Walker said thoughtfully, “that might explain why it’s never been successfully tracked or identified. At the end of its . . . hunt, it would just turn back into a man again and disappear back into its community with no one the wiser.”

“No . . . no!” said the Blue Fairy, practically talking over Walker in his excitement. “I’ve had this feeling before! I know what this is. That thing out there is a Hyde! Not some poor sad bastard bitten or cursed to be were, but a man chemically changed, transformed into something more and less than a man. I can almost smell the chemicals in him this close.”

“Rather you than me,” said Peter.

“I shall slap you in a minute,” said Walker. “And it will hurt. Pay attention.”

“What’s so impressive about a Hyde?” I said. “I’ve seen dozens of them working as bodyguards or thugs for hire. Oversized muscle freaks usually, and drama queens to a man.”

“The diluted serums that Harry Fabulous and his kind hawk around the Wulfshead Club aren’t a patch on the real thing,” said Blue. “The effects from those potions are as much psychological as physical. No one’s ever been able to duplicate Henry Jekyll’s original formula. The one to let loose all the evil in a man. Some mysterious impurity in the original salts . . .”

“Yes,” said Walker. “Even Jekyll couldn’t re-create his original dose. That was why he lost control over the change and Hyde kept reemerging even without the formula. Perhaps . . . there’s some plant or flower or vegetable growing naturally here that contains the original impurity. Local people would eat it, unknowing, and then succumb to its effects. Then either the affected ones go off into the woods on their own, to make sure they won’t hurt anyone . . . or more likely the community recognises the signs and drives the afflicted one out into the wilderness until it’s safe for them to return.”

“That’s why Grandfather sent us here,” said Peter. “The mystery of this creature solved; not a Bigfoot but a Hyde. Of course, we’ve still got to catch the thing on camera as proof.”

All our heads swivelled around as we heard something moving out in the dark. It was circling us, slowly and unhurriedly, making no effort to conceal its movements now. It wanted us to know it was there. It moved around us in a complete circle, always careful to stay just out of the firelight, as though it had already taken our measure and decided we were no threat to it. And then it stopped, and the heavy silence of the night returned. What could be so scary that every single beast and bird in the wood was afraid to draw its attention?

“It’s right in front of me,” the Blue Fairy said quietly. “Watching me.”

I strained my ears against the quiet, and gradually I made out a low, harsh breathing, more beast than man.

“This can’t be a Hyde,” I said. “Not the real thing. Jekyll was quite clear in his diaries. Edward Hyde was all the evil in a man, made physically manifest. Driven by instinct, ruled by his id, unconcerned with consequences or conscience. A thing of wants and needs and no self-control. A man with the mark of the beast upon him. Nothing but rage and lust and hate and the need to kill.”

“Like your tulpa?” said Peter.

“Worse,” said Blue. “Much worse.”