Thyla. Part 16

I call them 'men', but it was obvious immediately that they were not ordinary men. Their faces were pale and almost metallic-looking, with a sheen that glimmered in the moonlight. When they opened their mouths, instead of teeth, they had fangs, as we did.

But their fangs were as silver as polished knives. In their hands they carried daggers, long swords, axes. And guns.

'No!' Rhiannah cried. 'Ms Hindmarsh! No!'

'They're here! Lord, they're here!' Ms Hindmarsh repeated, calling the men forward.

And they came. So quickly, they came. There must have been at least fifty of them, moving through the bush in a way that was not walking, nor floating, but something in between. At their head was a man in his forties, dressed in a suit of darkest indigo blue. His hair was pale as frost, his eyes like a frozen river. He looked exactly like Charlotte Lord.

And he looked like Sir Edward Cha.s.sebury.

'Come, men!' he called, and his voice was like the quiet loading of a hunter's gun. And I knew as soon as he spoke that he did not simply look look like Cha.s.sebury. He like Cha.s.sebury. He was was Cha.s.sebury. Cha.s.sebury.

The man who killed my mother.

My blood flowed hot. Claws sc.r.a.ped my palms as I made my hands into fists.

'Perrin?' Rhiannah cried, her voice strangled and trembling. 'Perrin, there's so many of them. What do I do?'

'Take your cuff off,' Perrin hissed. 'Then just do what comes naturally.'

Four copper bangles fell to the ground.

And though I should have gasped at what I saw in front of me my roommate and cla.s.smates becoming animal it was when they found their true forms that I felt I knew them best.

The Sarcos stripped their blouses and shirts, leaving their torsos naked.

I watched, holding my breath. Perrin in his Sarco form was very different from Perrin in his human form. He seemed even bigger and stronger. His broad chest was now part white, part black, and its muscles were taut and ... delicious. delicious.

I forced myself to look away from him. I looked instead at the others.

Their skin was now black, mottled with white. Their noses were longer almost like snouts and their ears were higher and larger. Their eyes were narrower and further forward. Their hands grew sharp claws. Their legs bent back inside their trousers. They were Sarco.

I found them awesome and terrifying all at once.

And then it began.

Perrin's roar was like a war cry. The four Sarcos leapt forward, covering the s.p.a.ce between them and Lord's men in a fraction of a second and enveloping them in a haze of claws, teeth and fists. Guns fell to the ground as the men struggled against the brutish power of the beasts. I could barely make sense of what I was seeing. Though my Thyla senses made it easier to distinguish body from body, the frenzied rhythms of the fight still blurred the images in my head. There were no gunshots, but I could hear the sickening raking of sword against flesh. I could hear screams of pain. I could see bodies dropping to the ground, then struggling to stand again and continue fighting. It was difficult to see who was winning. It seemed, for now, that the two sides were evenly matched. But for how long?

My heart thudding, I squinted and craned, certain that one body at least had not moved since falling.

It was certainly a Sarco. And female.

One of my friends was dead.

The Sarcos were fighting well, and I couldn't just watch them struggle and fall. I needed to help.

But I didn't know if I had ever fought before. I could not remember.

'For pity's sake!' I growled at myself. 'Just remember remember!'

And then it came back. Shadows into light. Memories of fighting. Of me me fighting. Of me punching and biting. Biting men. Biting humans. Of me roaring, fighting. Of me punching and biting. Biting men. Biting humans. Of me roaring, 'Stay away from her! Leave her alone! She's not yours to take!' 'Stay away from her! Leave her alone! She's not yours to take!'

Of the cold, metallic voice of Lord saying, 'They're all mine. When will you vermin understand that? They are worth nothing to anyone except to me. They are all mine!'

And then flying fists, gouging claws: his hands; my claws.

Edward 'Ted' Lord. Sir Edward Cha.s.sebury. I had fought Lord Cha.s.sebury before.

I could do it again.

I poised to pounce.

The arm that wrapped around my throat was like a vice heavy, painful, unyielding.

I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could a hand pressed hard against it. I struggled and writhed and jabbed at my attacker with my newly powerful limbs, but I could not shake them. They were stronger than I was.

They must be immortal, too, I thought. I thought.

I felt their breath against my ear, and then they were speaking.

And I knew this voice too.

'Ssshhh, Tessa. It's okay. It's only me. I need you to turn around very slowly. Don't make a sound. Please. Trust me.'

How could I trust him? After what I had heard?

'h.e.l.lo, Vinnie. I was hoping it would be you ...'

How could I trust him when I knew he was in league with her? With the one who had just invited a group of monsters to slaughter my friends?

It was as though he could read my thoughts. 'You think I'm one of them, don't you?' he whispered. 'Nothing could be further from the truth. Sometimes, Tessa, to destroy the thing you hate you must become it.'

Vinnie's breath was hot in my ear. I struggled less as I listened, wondering what his story really was; wondering if I should believe it. 'I left my home for a century,' he continued. 'I have had to work, as Vinnie, for many years to gain their trust and, without it, I would not have known about tonight's attack. Cynthia and Lord both think I am on their side. I am not. I will explain more, but turn around and you will see I am telling the truth. Can I trust you to do it silently?'

I nodded, my chin pressing into the palm of his hand. He let go and I turned around.

And it was all I could do not to fall to my knees.

In front of me was Vinnie. But not the same Vinnie I remembered from the hospital and the police station. Not the Vinnie in the worn suits with a cardboard cup of coffee permanently attached to his hand, and the bags upon bags beneath his eyes. Not the one who grunted and grouched and slouched about as if the weight of mountains pressed against his shoulders.

He was nothing like that that Vinnie, and yet I knew it was him. I could hear it in his voice and smell it on him. He did not smell like strong cologne any more. He smelled like ... like musk and sweat and blood. I recognised his scent. Vinnie, and yet I knew it was him. I could hear it in his voice and smell it on him. He did not smell like strong cologne any more. He smelled like ... like musk and sweat and blood. I recognised his scent.

This Vinnie had fire in his amber eyes they flickered and sparkled. This Vinnie stood tall, his muscles tensed.

This Vinnie had stripes.

And claws.

He was a Thyla. His eyes were larger, rounder, and the iris nearly eclipsed the white. His nose was broader and flatter, and his nostrils turned forwards, like a dog's. His ears were bigger too, and pointed. His teeth had been replaced by fangs. His body seemed more lithe, and his muscles were harder and more defined. He wore trousers still, like the Sarcos did (thankfully I think I may have fainted if he were wholly naked) and yet I could see his legs bent backwards. His torso was bare, and I could see stripes when he twisted away. He was still human in some ways and yet he was other other as well. He was as well. He was Thyla. Thyla. Like me. Like me.

'You're ...' I began.

'Since 1851,' he said, attempting a smile. 'Just like you. Isaac Livingston is my proper name.' He held out his broad, clawed hand, grabbed mine and shook it roughly. 'I don't think we have time for more niceties than that,' he whispered. He looked towards the clearing. 'The Sarcos are managing now, but they need to more than manage. I have reinforcements coming. As soon as they're here ...'

I tried to shake the shock out of me. 'Isaac Livingston!'

The prison guard from the Female Factory. The man who wrote the report about me. The man I remembered in the room when the overseer was talking to Cha.s.sebury. That was Vinnie Vinnie? And he was a Thyla Thyla?

I had so many questions.

He was right, though. We didn't have time. I just had one question I needed needed answered before I could truly trust him. I spoke quickly. 'How did you do it?' I asked. 'How did you hide what you are from Lord? If he knew you at the Factory, he must have wondered how you ...' answered before I could truly trust him. I spoke quickly. 'How did you do it?' I asked. 'How did you hide what you are from Lord? If he knew you at the Factory, he must have wondered how you ...'

Vinnie read my thoughts. 'Like I said, I disappeared. Fled to the bush. Became Thyla almost full-time and watched them. With you. You'll remember that, eventually. It was only a hundred years later, when I saw how they were becoming more ruthless in their actions, that I re-emerged. I dyed my hair to look older. I wore different clothes. Strong aftershave so he couldn't detect my Thyla scent. I was insignificant to Lord back in the day a mere lowly prison guard. He didn't remember me.'

Isaac looked up, past my shoulder.

'Ah, Beagle,' he said.

Beagle?

I swung around. Mr Beagle (well, a Thyla who looked and smelled something like Mr Beagle) crept stealthily through the forest. Behind him were another ten Thylas.

'Isaac,' said Mr Beagle, nodding. It was definitely him. The voice was the same. 'Tessa.'

'Hi, Mr Beagle,' I said meekly. I had a million questions for him, but the most pressing one was, Did you know? And if you Did you know? And if you did did know, why didn't you tell me? know, why didn't you tell me?

But my questions would have to wait. I stayed silent and listened.

'Are we ready?' asked Vinnie. Isaac. Isaac.

Mr Beagle nodded, and looked back over his shoulder at more Thylas, creeping out of the darkness. 'As we'll ever be,' he whispered.

'Then let's go,' said Isaac.

'Is she coming, too?' asked Beagle.

'Of course,' Isaac replied. 'She's done it a million times. A hundred and sixty years' worth.'

'But she's for'

'She'll remember. We need her out there. You know she's a pro at this. She'll remember.'

Beagle nodded. And so, I was in.

Isaac nodded back at Beagle and then, a sharp claw held to his lip, he nodded over Beagle's shoulder at the other Thylas.

This was really happening. It was about to begin.

We had surprise on our side, but that wasn't an advantage for long.

For the first few moments after we burst into the clearing where the battle was taking place, it seemed as though we were on top. We knocked men to the ground with our blows, stabbing at their chests with our claws, biting at their necks with our sword-sharp teeth. They fell like fish from a waterfall.

And I was in the middle of it. Isaac was right: I did did remember. remember.

It wasn't easy. I was scared. I wondered if I had always been scared of this: of fighting, of the Diemens. Because they were horribly scary. And evil. You could see it in their eyes; in the way they smiled as they killed. We did not smile as we killed. We winced and grimaced. But we had to do it. To protect my friends.

We Thylas called out warnings and instructions to each other in yips and cough-like barks that only we could understand; sounds that I remembered more easily than I remembered many human words. The noises were instinctive. They were part of me. The Sarcos communicated in their own secret language that sounded like growls and screams.

I had Diemen blood on my tongue. It tasted like poison. I spat it to the ground and it sizzled.

Their blood was black.

As I fought, I added what I learned in battle to the list of things I knew.

I am Tessa. I am strong. I do not cry. I am dead. I am a killer.

And though I felt remorse for it though the human inside me was ashamed of the pain I was causing I was certain that I was doing the right thing.

It was instinct.

And it was memory.

I knew that Lord's men were evil.

I remembered. remembered.

Lord and his followers came to Tasmania because this is where the convicts were. The convict girls and women. Before they killed them, they inhaled the last breath of their victims. And once they had killed them, they ate their heart and bathed in their blood. This was their bloodsport. They were hunters. This was also how they became immortal, a sort of vampire, except, like us, they could be fatally wounded.

The Diemens targeted the convict women because they thought n.o.body would miss them.

But somebody did did miss one of them. miss one of them.

I missed my mother.

And the Thylas, though many had no humans to miss any more, missed a time when everyone human and shapeshifter was free to roam the bushland as they wished and without fear. When everyone could truly be wild. They hated Lord's men for taking their freedom, and the freedom of the women they attacked.

I remembered them fighting beside me as though my battle was their own, and I fought as though theirs was mine.

And as I bit and punched and clawed, I remembered something else: 'There are not enough prisoner women now to sustain them. They have been forced to start hunting civilians.' 'There are not enough prisoner women now to sustain them. They have been forced to start hunting civilians.'