“Are you going to stand there with your mouth open like that all day?” she laughed softly at me.

“Huh?” I asked.

“You’re getting wet,” she smiled, and it lit up her whole face. Then holding out her hand, she said, “Let me help you.”

With my heart racing so fast now, I thought it might just go bang, I reached out and took her hand in mine. Her pale white fingers felt soft, yet brittle, as she closed them around my hand and gently helped me from the water.

“Come over here and sit in the sun,” she said, guiding me gently towards a sandy patch of shore. “Your clothes will soon dry out.”

I sat down beside the girl, not once taking my eyes off her.

“Are you okay?” she smiled.

“Sure,” I said back. “Why?”

“It’s just that you’re staring at me,” she giggled and looked away, out across the lake.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered, my cheeks beginning to feel hot. “It’s just that...” I trailed off.

“Just what?” she asked, glancing at me again.

“It’s just that...” I paused, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve never seen a wolf before...what I mean is, I’ve never seen a real Lycanthrope before. You are a Lycanthrope, right?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod of her head.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” I said. “Why should I?”

“Because you’re a Vampyrus, aren’t you?” she asked me.

I nodded and wondered how she knew. I had yet to reach the equivalent of human puberty and I was yet to shed my wings, fangs, and claws.

I looked just like a human. “How do you know?”

“Your smell,” she explained, twitching her nose at me with a mischievous smile.

“Thanks,” I sighed.

“It’s not a bad smell,” she said. “But I’ve smelt it before.”

“When?” I was curious to know.

“Once or twice, Vampyrus cops have come to the caves and snatched wolves they suspected of killing humans,” she said, looking down at her hands as she passed a smooth-looking pebble between her fingers. “I recognised their smell on you.”

“Oh?” I said, surprised. I’d heard the stories of the Lycanthrope killing humans, but I didn’t know that there were Vampyrus cops who hunted them down.

“We shouldn’t even be sitting here together,” she said in a low voice. “Our two species aren’t meant to mix.”

“Why not?” I asked her, confused.

“I’m not sure why,” she said thoughtfully.

“I just know it isn’t allowed. We could be punished.”

I thought about this for a moment, then looking sideways at her, I said, “You haven’t killed any humans, have you?”

“No, never,” she said, sounding a little shocked.

“And I’m not a Vampyrus cop,” I said.

“So I don’t see the harm in us sitting here together, do you?”

“I guess not,” she smiled at me.

I smiled back at her, relieved that she didn’t want to leave – not just yet anyhow. A silence fell between us. The girl looked back down at the pebble she passed between her hands, and I looked out across the lake. Feeling nervous and the heavy silence only making me feel more anxious, I finally said, “My name is James Murphy. What’s yours?”

“I’m Penelope Flack, but everyone just calls me Pen,” she said, looking at me again.

“Jim,” I said back.

“No, not Jim, Pen, silly,” she smiled.

“No, everyone just calls me, Jim,” I laughed.

“Oh,” she giggled, and the sound was so sweet. But it was her face – she was so goddamn pretty – especially when she smiled. Her nose sort of screwed up and her eyes sparkled like two twinkling suns. I thought she was the most perfect thing I had ever seen. How anyone could accuse the Lycanthrope of being a race of killers, I didn’t know. The gentle-looking girl sitting before me looked like an angel, not a monster. The stories I had heard ever since I could remember about the wolves surely had to be wrong, I thought, as I sat and looked into her mesmerizing stare. But I was just a boy and I had a lot to learn – and that lesson would cost me more than I could have ever imagined.

Chapter Eight

Murphy

Pen and I became good friends, and if I were to be honest, my young heart felt more than that for her. It wasn’t just because she was beautiful; my heart raced like an out-of-control steam engine every time I saw her – but it was her personality, too. Pen had a kind of innocence about her, and although she lived on the other side of the fountains, it didn’t appear that she had ever ventured out into the human world. It was like something was holding her back. I often told her about what my home was like beneath, in The Hollows, the great canyons and the Light House which created the light and the darkness so we had something close to night and day. As we sat in the forest surrounding the lake, her mouth and eyes would be wide open as I told her about the vast tunnels, the seething volcanoes, and the great willow trees in the whispering woods. But what grabbed her attention most was the magical moving pictures the Vampyrus Burton had brought back below ground from the human world. At first she thought I was just messing with her.

“Pictures that move?” she breathed, one summer’s afternoon as we lay on our backs in the grass, looking up at the wisps of cloud floating lazily overhead.

“That’s right,” I told her. “The human world is far more magical than even I first imagined.”

“How come?” she asked, rolling onto her side and staring at me with her bright eyes, which were as yellow as the rapeseed which grew tall all around us.

“I saw these moving pictures once,” I said, looking at her. “This human girl and her dog discovered this other world, where there was a talking lion, scarecrow, and a man made of tin.

There was this evil witch, too...”

“How did this human girl find this world?”

Pen whispered as if in awe of what I was telling her. “Do you think we could go there and talk with this lion, scarecrow, and tin man?”

“There was this big storm and her house got sucked up into the sky,” I explained, not really understanding it myself. “It was like this world had always been there – just like The Hollows beneath us and your world on the other side of the fountain. The girl, Dorothy was her name, found herself to be in this other magical world...”

“What was it called?” Pen asked, sitting up and crossing her legs beneath her dress.

“Oz,” I told her.

“Oz,” she breathed dreamily, as if trying to imagine it in her mind. Then looking back at me, she said, “Jim, are you sure you’re not teasing me?”

“Honest,” I said. “It really does exist. The humans captured it all in their magical moving pictures.”

“I would love to see it one day,” Pen said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“One day I will show it to you,” I boasted.

“You promise?” she said, taking my hands in hers.

“I promise,” I said, and she leant close to me and kissed me softly on the cheek.

I would have loved to have shown her Oz, but how? Then, by chance or by fate, I can’t be sure, I heard that the Vampyrus Burton was coming back beneath ground for a short visit. Now Burton had become a bit of a celebrity in The Hollows, as every time he came home, he would have a whole new roll of moving pictures to show us. Vampyrus would come from every corner of The Hollows. This time, Burton returned with a stream of magical moving pictures that he had somehow captured. Just like the hundreds of other Vampyrus, I gathered in the great caves and Burton shone his moving pictures onto the rocky walls. There were cheers and gasps from the Vampyrus as we watched in wonder. Once the pictures stopped moving and the cave fell into semi darkness, I waited for the hordes of Vampyrus to leave as I hid in the shadows at the back of the caves. When Burton was alone, I crept from my hiding place.

“Who’s there?” Burton asked, knocking his untidy black fringe from his brow.

“I want to go to Oz,” I said, stepping into the light so he could see me.

With a smile on his lips, his wild, curly, black hair sticking out like springs all over his head, Burton looked at me and said, “And why would you want to go to Oz?”

“For the same reason that you did, I guess,” I said back. “It’s magical there, right?”

“Isn’t there enough magic in The Hollows?” he asked me. But before I’d the chance to say anything, he added, “Anyway, it’s impossible.”

“I promised someone I would show them that magical place,” I said, remembering the promise I had made to Pen.

“Who?” he asked, taking a step closer towards me.

“A friend,” I told him. “I can’t go back on my promise.”

“You shouldn’t promise something you don’t truly understand,” Burton said kindly.

“I can’t let her down,” I tried to explain.

“Her?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, my friend, Penelope.”

“Do you love this girl?!” He asked me, his eyes twinkling.

I looked at him, standing in the gloom, the drip-drip sound of water running down the cave walls. With my cheeks flushing red, I nodded and said, “Yes, I love her.”

Burton came closer still. He snatched a quick look back over his shoulder at the cave entrance, then back at me. With his voice no more than a faint whisper, he said, “Bring your friend Penelope to this cave tonight. It has to be tonight as I go back above ground when the Light House turns south towards us.”

“But I don’t know if she will be able to...”

I started.

“If you want to honour your promise, then be here tonight,” Burton said, then turned and walked back to the equipment which shone the moving pictures onto the cave wall.