(At least two more chapters until Ashley gets turned back into a cat.)

CHAPTER 60-The Big Bad Wolf

My bare feet thudded lightly against the silver concrete in an uptight rhythm, resonating the wild beating of my heart. I didn't know where I was going, actually. I was only running, sprinting, in search of Heath, and deep in the back of my mind, I knew that as long as I kept looking, I would eventually bump into him sooner or later. The city wasn't as big as it seemed.

In the silence of the night, it looked almost like a ghost town. My feet echoed in the quiet air. My breath was raspy.

"Hey."

My shoulders tensed up and my heart gave a startled leap, and I screeched to a halt and turned around to face the voice.

There were two of them, two boys, both of them taller and slightly older than me. They were twins. From the smudges and patches on their faces and clothes, I could tell that in some ways, we were alike. We were both a long way from home.

They moved menacingly, their gazes icy and expressionless. When they were only a few feet away from me, I shrank back and squeaked, "Um, hold on! Are you with Heath?"

They blinked and faltered. "Heath?" they echoed. "What business would you have with him?" Their voices were crisp and clean, like the crunching of snow underfoot, and it crackled like frost. Cold and glittering with a quiet malice, cutting sharply across the air, making me suck in a quick breath.

"Um." My eyes flickered from one kid to the next. "Well, I just need to talk to him. So if you know where he is, could you...?"

I retreated back into my shell like a turtle, a bit fearful, when they leaned closely and eyed me. It was a bit too close for comfort. I could practically see every detail of their pale skin and count every freckle.

"Who are you?" they inquired, their faces still emotionless, although I thought I caught a glimpse of curiosity. "No one's dared to confront Heath before. You don't look like anyone special. Who are you, stranger?"

Weird. These two were definitely weird in a way I couldn't name.

I shook my head impatiently and said, "I just need to see him. Can't you just point me to where he is?"

"And why should we?"

I bit my bottom lip and almost screamed in frustration, but of course, I held it in. I took a deep breath, closed and then opened my eyes again, and I was a lot calmer.

I smiled as sweetly as I could. "You look like nice people. I'd be much obliged if you would be so kind as to do me this one, tiny, little, small favor. Please?"

They glanced at each other, shrugged, and then pointed their fingers to the distance. "Over there," they said.

They were aiming at something, but I couldn't tell what. All I could see were the streets and the roads. Nothing looked particularly out of place.

I turned again to ask, but the twins were already walking away, none of them sparing a single glance back. Confronting them again wouldn't be a safe idea, so I sprinted off in the direction where they had pointed. I stared at the ground, poking at it, prodding it, wondering if I had somehow missed something important.

There was nothing here but the tar-paved streets and a few spots of shrubbery. With my hopes crushed, I glanced up, and saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was a bright twinkle of something, a sharply lit glimmer, as if a star had gotten caught in the branches.

I skidded past the bushes, ignoring the stings that the nettles grazed into me, and came across a manhole cover, gridded like a map and glinting lightly like a huge silver dollar. It was perfectly round and perfectly silver, crafted out of a thick sheet of metal. Now that I had studied it, I realized that it was slightly ajar, as if someone had pried it open and climbed down beneath it. I gripped the cover in my hands, gasping at how the cold of the metal nipped my fingers, and heaved it to the side with some difficulty. It slipped at the last second and clattered onto the sidewalk, sounding like an iron pan that had skidded off the countertop, loud enough to wake the dead. It rattled in my ears and I held my breath, pausing. The streets breathed louder at night, but not one thing stirred in the shadows.

I peered down at the hole, inhaling sharply as the putrid smell of rotten eggs intruded my lungs. Holding my breath, I looked deeper down. Darkness, blacker than any night, loomed up at me, staring me full in the face. I couldn't see anything down there.

I wondered if I should back away and leave, but this was what the twins had been pointing at. Heath was down there. It was a pretty nasty place to call home in my opinion, with the stench of week-old milk and gym socks, but I had heard of mole people before. They lived underneath the traffic in the sewer system, safe from the prying eyes of pedestrians. Heath was somewhere down there.

I reached out my hand into the black nothingness and felt my nails scrape against something rusty and metal. A dull, grimy ladder was nailed down to the wall of the sewer, offering a path down, beckoning me to enter. I hesitated.

This was madness, sheer idiocy. If Brandon and Harry hadn't exaggerated, if what they had said was true, then I was walking right into the clutches of a crazy murderer. And yet, after all I had went through, how could I tell what was cracked up and what was not? Talking weasels, singing stars, intelligent cats that lived in highly organized colonies. I was part of a fantasy storybook, whether I liked it or not.

And Alexa needed me. She was the first human who had asked me my name. She had squeezed my hand when I needed comfort.

And I realized that I wasn't just doing this for Alexa. I was doing it for my new friends, for the heartbroken Jackie who had no one left, for Harry's sake, and for Brandon. Especially for Brandon, I suddenly realized.

Taking a deep breath, I filled my lungs with the odor of rats. Gripping the ladder firmly with both hands, I swung my body over and carefully climbed down, descending into darkness.

Ashley, down the rabbit hole. The blackness swallowed me up. As I scaled down carefully, one foot at a time down the ladder, I couldn't see a single thing. There was simply murkiness surrounding me on all sides, like I had stepped into the beginning of the universe where nothing existed. It was as if I had gone blind. The only light came from a faint, thin beam from the exposed opening from the manhole cover. I wished for the flashlight that I didn't have.

My hands squelched against the cold, slimy rungs and I had the strong urge to let go and wipe them with my shirt, but I didn't dare. It took all my effort not to slip off.

Have you ever climbed down a ladder coated with something slippery like Vaseline, gripping it with hands slick with sweat? It's almost impossible to hang on.

At one point, I almost did fall off. My hands were suddenly groping on nothing but thin air and I instinctively jerked back, my arms waving frantically in front of me. Wild panic turned my spine into jelly. My heart almost shot out of my chest when I realized that there was nothing down there to catch me, and I didn't even know how far I would fall. In a stroke of sheer luck, my hands found the ladder again and I leaned forward toward it, clutching it tightly, practically hugging it, waiting for the pounding to subside and the fear to ebb away.

I continued the rest of the way down. Something liquid and icy pooled around my feet and I jerked back in surprise. It felt like thin water. The smell of rotten fish made me light-headed and I staggered a bit. The water sloshed around and made a smooth, tinkling noise, like coins clinking together. In the movies that I faintly remembered, they showed underground sewage tunnels that were heavy with green slime, churned thickly like butter. This water just felt like...nothing but water. It was shallow and reached only to the top of my ankles, dampening the hems of my trousers, and I imagined little brown swirls floating at the surface from the quantity of filth and mud. I waded around, hearing it splash, making little waves, feeling the relief of it cool my scratched and dirty soles.

Right. Which way do I go? I couldn't even see my hand if I waved it in front of my face. All I saw here was darkness.

Extending my arm, I brushed against the wall of the tunnel, yelping in alarm when my fingers brushed against something clammy and damp and slightly greasy, as if I had put it in someone's mouth. I needed to feel the wall to navigate, so I steeled myself and drew out my hand again. It was slimy and sticky to the touch, and I couldn't help but shudder.

As my feet sloshed against the water, the shadows loomed up around me. I was all alone down here. What if I got lost, like Fallen Leaves? Would I be doomed to wander these tunnels for the rest of eternity? I swallowed, my heart beginning to thump harder in slight panic. I thought I heard whispers, but realized it was only the sound of the sloshing from my feet.

An orb of orange light glowed at the end of one of the channels. It gradually got brighter, like a candle flickering and dancing, driving away the inky night. It was only a pinprick, like a tiny star that was barely there, and I quickly hurried toward it.

The water grew thinner and shallower until the concrete underneath my feet was only slightly damp, like the sidewalk after a morning mist. The light was emanating from a lamp. Good, that meant that people were nearby.

From the brightened area, I saw tiny shapes slink here and there, watching me, observing me, knowing that I was there.

I swallowed nervously, my throat suddenly dry, and ran a tongue over my chapped lips.

"Hello?" I called.

My voice echoed and bounced off the lonely walls.

A large, dry hand clamped my mouth shut as another arm wound its way around my neck, pressing me back against someone's broad chest. I was too surprised to scream and only stood there stiffly, feeling his harsh breathing against the back of my neck that made the hairs prickle. Oddly enough, the hand around my mouth didn't smell anything like sewers or sun-bleached fish. It smelled clean, maybe even slightly like soap. The arm around my neck was hairy and as thick as an elephant's trunk. It prevented me from moving and crushed me faintly, but it didn't choke. I could still breathe as easily as before, even if at a quicker pace.

"What do we have here?" the voice said, and I could detect a smile in there.

I shivered, not from the cold. I recognized this voice, this taunting, rasping, booming voice.

He spun me around, as lightly as a glass over a tabletop, and I stood there, facing him, staring up at that brutal face. From the light of the pale lamp, I saw Heath's short blond hair curled slightly on top of his ears, his piercing blue eyes narrowed and calculating, the cheekbones amplified sharper by the shade. This guy was a giant, easily dwarfing Bigfoot. Even if I stood on tiptoe and craned my chin upward, I wouldn't make it past his shoulders. He would be able to pound me into the cement with a single fist. I thought back to the day when we first met, when he dealt blows and blows onto my face, and I suddenly realized with a start if he had actually been holding back. He could have easily snapped my matchstick neck in half just as easily as punching me.

He was grinning, but it was hollow and without joy. I recognized the emotion in the depths of those blue eyes, as I had often felt that way myself, sitting in an empty house while watching the rain pelt the windowpane.

I stood on the balls of my feet, ready to flee in case he decided to attack me again.

"What do you want, girl?" he asked, gruffly, somehow tired. "In six cruel, long years, no one's ever dared to set foot down here. They all know that this is my territory," he grinned smugly, as if he were proud of his reputation. "This place is nothing but an empty closet. Haven't I seen you before?" He seized me roughly by the chin and forced me to look into his eyes.

I forced myself to stare back. Bullies thrived off fear. As long as I wasn't afraid, he can't hurt me, I told myself.

"Brandon told me something about you," I said slowly, watching his head turn slightly at my words. "He said that you're a murderer. Is that true?"

He laughed harshly in a crow's voice and let me go. Heath went and turned on another lamp that brightened the tunnel so that my eyes could see more clearly.

I saw stuff strewn about on the damp floor: a sleeping bag, rags, blankets, bags of food.

Wiping his hands on a handkerchief, he scowled. "Brandon, eh?" he spat, as if the name was venom. "That lousy mutt. What's he been teaching ya? I've never killed anyone in my life, save for a fly. The police would be on my tail if I ever slaughtered a single soul."

I couldn't suppress a disbelieving glare. He must have seen the look on my face and I squared my shoulders, bracing myself for a blow to the guts.

He didn't strike. It seemed to me that he was just glad to have someone to talk to.

Heath continued, "Ah yes, that doesn't mean that I've never gotten blood on my hands. Sometimes you have to teach the little kiddies a lesson and break a few of their bones, show them who's at the top. It puts them in their place in a snap."

I cringed, imagining those big, fleshy hands of his crunching the ribs of young children. He might not be a killer, but that didn't mean he was safe.

With the two lamps glowing and shedding their warm light, the tunnels didn't seem so threatening anymore. It almost gave this place a homely look, like a warm kitchen with a buttery yellow atmosphere.

I asked, "Are you the only one down here? What happened to the rest of your friends?"

He sniffed and kicked the sleeping bag off to the side. "Girl, you don't know me. What, you really think someone like me oughta have roommates? They're only cronies. They know what's best for them so they keep away. They only hang around me in the daytime 'cause they need someone to protect them. Other than you and me and the rats, there's no one else down here."

"So in other words, you're lonely," I said quietly.

There was no room to breathe, to think, before he violently spun around and gripped my shoulders, effectively keeping me in place.

He was close enough for me to hear his harsh wheezing and the smell of his breath.

"Who are you?" he seethed. "Here you are, a little girl wandering all alone, straight into my home. You knew I was down here. Why did you come? Did Brandon send you down here as a joke, 'cause I ain't laughing." He shook me a little, making my vision bounce up and down. "Now talk," he said. My hands grew clammy again and I suppressed a little tremor of fear.

"I came here on my own."

"What for?"

"Well...what if I asked you for help?"

His laughter boomed and bounced all around the walls. His great shoulders shook up and down like an earthquake of their own.

Wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, he chuckled, "Blimey, girl, you're rich."

I kept my face stone cold and impassive.

He stopped laughing. "You're serious."

I folded my arms and nodded. He leaned back and studied me. "Well then? What do you want from me?"

"It's about Alexa."

"Alexa. I know her. She's the little mutt that scampers around with Brandon."

"Except that she's gone now. Does a black van mean anything to you?"

He stiffened and sucked in a deep breath. Turning away, he muttered, "I'm sorry to say, but there's nothing anyone can do for her anymore. Once the black van catches you, it never lets you go."

"But surely, there's something we can do? If—"

Clenching his fists, he looked like a volcano about to blow. Hissing quietly, he said, "Where's the 'we' coming from? There never was a 'we'. You're on your own, kid. Get lost before I chuck you out."

My instincts were telling me to flee before he loses it completely, but there was no way I was turning back.

I said, "Wait. Just answer me this one question. Why are the people in the black van abducting children?"

"Human trafficking, idiot brat. Why else?"

Oh. An idea suddenly came into my head, something that would convince him to come with me.

He still had his back to me, but I said, "Living in the sewers. Lonely, isn't it? How did you manage to live down here, all by yourself, for years?" A spark of realization dawned on me. "Unless...you weren't alone. Unless you did have someone else with you. You used to."

He hesitated. "Yeah."

"What was her name?"

A pause. "Angela."

"And she's not here anymore?"

"No. They took her away. I never saw her again."

I knew I was treading on dangerous territory, but this was the only path to take. Slowly, carefully, I raised my arm and rested my hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He flinched and paused. I saw the flash in his eyes. He was wondering whether or not he should flatten me onto the ground like a pancake and leave me for the vultures. Or, he could let me live.

He shoved me away and I stumbled back, but his heart wasn't in it. He would have killed me by now if he wanted to.

"Come on," I said softly, extending my hand. His eyebrows raised.

I murmured, "I need you to stop the men in the black van. I need to get Alexa back."

He shrank back uncertainly, and for a split second, he seemed to look smaller. "I don't need to listen to you," he snarled, softly.

"Or you could stay down here, all on your own. I could leave you in peace. But don't you want to be something more? Don't you want to avenge Angela?"

He glared at me, but his chiseled face was much softer than before, like a jagged cliff worn smooth by the tide, and he didn't seem so scary anymore. "You have a point," he said, smiling slightly. "But why did you come here to see me? You are my first and only visitor. Why did you choose me?"

"Because you're not afraid to protest, to say 'no'. You're not afraid of anything, not really. And you're strong. All of those things are something I lack."

He grinned, a sad grin, and nudged me harshly in my ribs. "Idiot girl. You're blind, in a way."

He hesitated. "You know what the others call me? The Monster in the Sewers. The Undertaker. The Bad Wolf. And yet, here you are, trespassing in my den, putting your hand on my shoulder as if you've known me for quite a while. Have you already forgotten who gave you those bruises?"

I raised my hand to my face and traced my fingers around a bruise that was already beginning to fade. My eyes softened. Down here, in the pale half light, he didn't seem so brutal anymore. He only looked like a kid like me.

"I've seen monsters before," I said. "Real ones. Frightening ones. The kinds that watch you from behind and turn invisible when you glance back. You don't look anything like those monsters, Heath." I smiled. "It's just a bruise. I've been hurt worse than that."

"Blimey, girl," he said, and this time his voice was a lot different. "That's the first time anyone's ever told me that. You're strange, you know that?"

I held out my hand. "Help me?" I asked.

He took it in his huge bear paws in a firm hold and shook it, shaking my arm along with it. "Might as well," he grumbled.

As he led me out of the tunnels, wading through the water, our path illuminated by a matchstick, he spoke. "And you know somethin' else? It wasn't brave of you to talk to me. It wasn't brave because, well, you weren't scared. But coming down the manhole, groping through the darkness, staring into my eyes when you didn't know what you were getting yourself into, and every nerve telling your body to turn back and run for your life. Instead, you didn't run but kept on moving forward just to see a monster like me. Forcing yourself to do something even when you're frightened out of your mind. That's brave."

I grinned up at the giant. "You know what, Heath? The others were wrong. You're not half bad."

He smiled back, this time looking almost happy. "And you know what, girl? You're not half bad either."

He cracked his knuckles again, the sound resonating against the walls. "We've got a van to catch."

OOOooOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoooOOoOOOo

He led me out of the tunnels and I felt the sweet relief of fresh air cooling my skin. He kicked away some bushes and revealed a rusty, brown pick-up truck sagging behind a thick grove of trees. Its windows were cracked and the metal was bulky. It was practically a scrapyard on wheels. The vehicle had certainly seen better days when it had been younger.

Heath patted its hood affectionately. "Old Glory. Borrowed this girl a long time ago. She's running out of petrol, but it'll last us for the night."

I raised an eyebrow. "And by 'borrowed', you mean you stole it."

We couldn't help but grin at each other like idiots.

"Yup," he said. "Stolen goods are free."

Something blundered through the undergrowth, like an animal that had been disturbed from its burrow and had scattered, zigzagging, into the bushes.

Brandon, Harry, and Jackie came into view, panting, their chests heaving.

Their eyes widened when they saw Heath.

Harry slowly whispered, "Ashley, he's behind you. Don't look back and just walk here slowly."

I shrugged and gave him a reassuring smile. "No, it's fine. He's not dangerous. We came across an agreement, and he's on our side now."

Jackie sniffed, "Yeah, and maybe the moon is made out of cheddar cheese."

Brandon and Heath were glaring at each other, their eyes red and burning with flames licking and flickering over their shoulders. They looked like rhinos preparing to charge.

"Brandon," I said softly, gently pushing him away before Heath suddenly snapped and decided to claw his face off.

Harry sputtered, "Ashley, are you insane? That's Heath! And you trust him?!"

Heath scowled at Brandon. "I'm starting to change my mind about this. I'd rather skin you alive."

Brandon's eyes glittered coldly, but he didn't say anything.

I spun around to face Jackie and Harry, pleading them desperately with my eyes. Heath was the help that we needed, and he even had a pick-up truck.

They hesitated, blinked, and sucked in a deep breath. 'Please', I said silently.

Instead, their gazes locked on Brandon, and they were waiting for what his choice would be. He slowly glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes.

Come on. Please, just this once, just listen to me, I tried to tell him with my eyes. Couldn't he see that we had no choice?

He faltered, and I could tell how much effort he was, struggling with two waves crashing inside him.

He finally sighed, and nodded. I hugged him, then. It wasn't a great big bear hug, just a tiny squeeze around his shoulders.

Heath chose to ignore us and tried to start the car, failing a few times before the engine crackled to life, rumbling and purring like a cat.

He opened the front door and nestled in, the seats squeaking and hardly supporting his weight. Without looking at us, he jabbed a thumb at the truck. "Well? Get on already."

I was the first one in and took the spot in the middle.

OOOoOooOOooOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOO

The ride was far from comfortable, with Old Glory sputtering and shaking with old parts, but at least no one was bickering.

Brandon was seated next to me, staring out the tainted window.

"You don't know all the things that Heath's done," he said quietly, so I had to lean in to catch those words.

"I don't. But right now, all he's trying to do is help," I replied.

He sighed and sagged his shoulders, but he didn't say anything more about him.

To my surprise, he suddenly whispered, "I've never told you about Lilith."

The old truck sputtered and blew out fumes, and I braced myself as it rumbled over a pothole.

I whispered, "You don't have to tell me about her," knowing how much it would hurt.

"I'd like to. It would be an honor to introduce Lilith to you, Ashley."

His hazel eyes slid over until they rested on me. I blushed a little with embarrassment and something else.

He whispered, "She was my sister. My little sister. You would have loved her, Ashley. She was always so bubbly with a bright smile on her face, and she always searched for the good things in life." He swallowed.

I could tell how much it stung, how the aching in his heart wouldn't go away. So why was he still talking about her?

To comfort him, I reached gently for his hand. He tensed a little, but gradually relaxed, and I squeezed his fingers as Alexa did mine.

"If it hurts too much," I said. "You don't have to say anything about her."

Old Glory wheezed like a great beast.

He looked at me and studied me, and then his face softened. "Oh Ashley," he said quietly. "You're brave and you're smart and you're strong. I know you'll accomplish great things in life. But there's still one thing that you don't know. Lilith was a wonderful person. Everything she did and had done would all go to waste if I don't remember her and talk about her. She would linger in my heart with nowhere to go and nothing to be."

I understood. Many stormy nights, I would curl up around my moss nest, half full and yet half empty, and dream about my past and whisper their names over and over again, lest I forget.

"I had someone too," I said, very slowly and very quietly. "He was amazing. Absolutely amazing. He cherished and protected the things he loved with both arms." Brandon squeezed my hand, saying nothing, just listening.

"And," I said. "He loved me too."

Tears danced on the rim of my eyes and refused to fall, but I smiled.

The pick-up truck lurched and swung violently to the right, and my arm shot out to grab hold of the seat so I wouldn't go flying off.

"We're here," Heath barked, slamming the car door.

He had parked into some bushes, partly concealing the truck, and we were standing outside the House.

"Sometimes the van comes to the same places more than once," Jackie explained.

"I'll be the bait," Brandon said, starting up the steps. "You guys go hide. When the van comes, let them catch me, and then follow them. Make sure they don't see you."

I caught his shoulder and glared at him. "Wait, who said that you're going to be the bait? I already made up my mind that it should be me."

"Because I'm the leader. It's my duty."

I glared, but didn't say anything else. I couldn't have, because at that moment, headlights reared up and galloped out of the darkness like horses.

Heath leaped into the bushes, making them shudder, and Harry was tugging at Jackie's arm, hurrying her away.

"Ashley!" Harry called. "Get away from there!"

The black van started up the driveway, its great black paws crunching on the gravel.

I turned to flee, but stopped in my tracks when I realized that Brandon hadn't moved. He was standing there, his shoulders tense, his face grim, acting just like bait.

I clasped my hand with his and squeezed it tightly, causing a spark of surprise in his eyes. I wouldn't let the men take him. He could die trying to protect us, just like how Snowstorm had died for me.

His eyes flared up in alarm and he yelled, "Ashley! Get out of the way!"

Out of the bushes, I heard screams of shock. My mind whirled as I felt a large, firm hand cover my mouth with a cloth that smelled like a swimming pool, and the world danced before my eyes. I tried to shout, but my legs gave way underneath me and I couldn't stand back up again, my brain just wouldn't obey me, and a sweet, strange sensation fluttered into my skull until I could do nothing else but collapse into a pit of shadows.

OooOoooooOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOOooOOOoo

I woke up with a start. Everything was pitch black around me, and I couldn't see anything at all. I tried to reach out with my hands, and as my mind cleared, realized that they were tied behind my back. My feet were also bound together.

I tried to struggle but the ropes only bit deeper into my flesh. I stretched out my legs as far as they would go and felt the room I was in. The space was enormous. Where was I?

Something sounded outside, like tires screeching, and with a gasp, I was thrown from my little corner and collided on the opposite wall with enough force to stun a tiger.

I was in the black van. They took me. Clamping my jaws over a whimper, I tried to feel for an opening or a lock. I straightened up against the metal wall and ran my bound hands over it. I was definitely stuck inside the trunk of a van. An ugly blossom of fear bloomed up inside my chest and left me feeling hollow and anguished, and I couldn't suppress the whimper this time. I didn't want to die. I still had a prophecy to fulfill, didn't I? Unless Yellowfang was right, and my life with the warriors truly was over.

I tried to close my eyes, but it only made the blackness darker. My hands twitched behind my back as the van braked suddenly, sending me lurching backward. No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen. I was only fourteen, much too young to die. I still had so much to live for.

Please don't let me die.