above ground: prologue

Prologue

There was no place for a wolf’s pride in this excuse for a theatre—in fact, there was no place for pride at all. What passed for a dressing room seemed more like a prison cell: the walls were bare, the furniture hard and uncomfortable, and all four occupants were poised on the verge of violence.

Silver leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the rickety wooden table, his expression carefully blank. Three out of the four corners of the room were taken up by his fellow actors, backs to the wall, muscles tensed, but even though they were all here for the same reason, Silver refused to stoop to their level. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and exhaled slowly. Only a couple more hours until show time.

There was a knock on the door. Silver let his cigarette hang from his lips, keeping his hands free. The door swung open slowly and an ewte stuck his head in, the pebbled skin on his face a little dry from overexposure. His large bulbous eyes wavered uncertainly between the four occupants of the dressing room. “Which of you is the werehorse?” he asked, as if it weren’t obvious.

Silver rolled his eyes, leaned further back in his chair as Thor, the werehorse, stood up. For all of Thor’s muscle and size, he smelled like prey, and the way he shifted back and forth on his feet only made the wolf in Silver all the hungrier. When Thor placed his back against the doorframe and kept his body half-turned to watch the room, the leopard in the corner smirked. Silver feigned disinterest. Why the theatre had thought it was acceptable to host different werekind together was beyond him.

“What do you want?” Thor’s voice was clipped, edgy with the knowledge that the two predators at his side could leap up at any point and attack—three, if you counted the weredog, but Silver didn’t.

The ewte fiddled with the pipes on his neck that connected his gills to a water tank strapped to his chest. Should’ve stayed underwater, Silver thought sourly. The ewte exhaled, the water tank gurgling. “You wanted news?”

Thor didn’t answer immediately. His eyes darted around the room, and he began to sweat even more—fear? guilt?—his hands digging into the already chipped wooden frame of the door. “Well?”

The ewte tapped his claws against the floor. “You should try to get advance payment.”

“Why?”

“The ‘pyres are on stage right after you.”

There was a long pause: too long. The news meant something to Thor. Silver focused his gaze on drawing a cigarette and lighting it, but his attention was fixed on the conversation at the doorway; he needed the money, and if the job went to pot he’d rather know sooner than later. Thor sighed heavily, then moved so that his back was to the room as if he could block out the conversation with his body. He kept his voice low. “How do you know?”

“I stole a copy of the programme.”

How typical. Ewtes were notorious thieves, but the stereotype didn’t deter them. Thor held out his hand, but before the ewte could pass him the programme, Silver raised his voice. “I want to see it.”

The ewte flinched. Good boy, Silver thought, keeping his face utterly blank. Thor scowled, but didn’t protest, so the ewte took a few cautious steps into the room and tossed the programme on to the table, before retreating back outside. Silver picked it up, felt the thick, glossy finish of the pages. No expenses spared on anything for the damn worms, and here they were in a bare room with flaking plaster walls and a poured concrete floor. Even the rickety table showed signs of abuse, its surface gouged by the claws of previous occupants.

Silver flicked through the programme leisurely, aware of the weighted stares upon him. He reached their page. There was only four rough sketches and a short caption outlining what werekind they were.  He sneered at the drawings; save for the clearly marked scar on his chest, his sketch was indistinguishable from the dog’s. He flipped to the next page. The ‘pyre act was indeed right after theirs.

The ewte shifted impatiently at the door. “I’ve told you what I know,” he said to the werehorse. “I’m heading back to my room before Angus gets here. His amateur attempts at telepathy are literally painful.” The ewte rubbed his head for good measure and scuttled off nervously.

Thor left the door half-open and returned to his seat in the corner of the room. He scowled when Silver passed the programme over to the leopard, but said nothing. The leopard shrugged, tossed her long, dark hair over one shoulder and handed the programme over to the dog, who grinned good-naturedly when he found their page. Finally Thor got hold of the programme and leafed hurriedly through it, his shoulders bunching together tighter and tighter as he flicked back and forth between two pages: theirs, and the ‘pyres.

“You gonna tell us what’s wrong?” the leopard said, arching her back. She tilted her head to one side and smiled toothily at Thor.

Thor stiffened. “I… I’m not sure.”

They had no time to question him: at that very moment the compère pushed their door wide open and placed himself just inside the threshold, thumbs hooked through his belt loops. He kept his head turned slightly to the left to highlight the two diamond tattoos—one an outline, one filled in—on his right cheekbone. “The humans are arriving soon. Better get changed.”

“Stupid worms,” the dog muttered darkly, and for a moment all four werekind were united in opinion.

“Angus,” Thor said, turning almost casually to the compère.  “When are we going to get paid?”

The compère looked surprised at the question.  “After closing, as always.”

“Yes, well, I was planning on leaving directly after our act.” He licked his lips, swallowed. “Can I maybe get paid beforehand?”

“I’m also leaving right afterwards,” Silver cut in. There was no way Silver was going to subject himself to the gaping of thousands of worms for free. He returned Thor’s startled glance with a challenging glare.

The leopard cracked her knuckles. “We all are.” She tilted her head to one side. “A friendly outing of sorts.”

Angus looked around the room suspiciously, probing their emotions. Silver mentally winced when Angus made eye contact with him but held firm, knowing his calm conviction would assure the man of his honesty.

“Very well. I will let the accountants know you’ll be dropping by immediately after your act.” Angus shook his finger at them. “No funny business or you’ll be in serious trouble with the Guild.”

Thor let out a whoosh of breath after the compère left. The leopard bared her teeth in an aggressive smile. “So, what’s going to happen?”

Thor shook his head, looked to the ground. “I’m only here because I need money for my daughter’s education, I don’t—”

“We all need money,” Silver interrupted. “Cut the bullshit.”

A beat of silence, then Thor sighed, seemed to go limp in his chair. “They’re going to attack the humans.”