NaNoWriMo 2012

So, working on my NaNoWriMo novel and thought I'd share it with my fans,mall two of you. Here's the first 12k words or so. Enjoy...



Ladybird, Ladybird

Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home,
Your house is on fire, your children all gone.

Chapter One
In which Buzzy gets a job


Let’s get it out of the way right from the start, I’m a Brown Cockchafer. It’s a fucking beetle, look it up, child! Have you finished sniggering yet? Yes? Ok, then let’s get on with this then. The name’s Buzz and I earn a crust as a detective. Ok, the crust I earn isn’t much but I was able to afford a small apartment and office in Lower Rosebush and that’s nothing to sneeze at in these dark financial times. Cheating grasshoppers, butterflies stealing from the boss, that was my kinda thing. Arson? Murder? That sort of stuff should be left up to the professionals in my opinion but sometimes the cops don’t care and these things end up in the laps of regular bugs like me and even if you think you’ve been hardened and you have seen everything, nothing can prepare you for what really happens when shit hits the fan.

Of course everyone had heard about the fire. I mean, it was several gardens away but the entire Rosebush was abuzz about it for days. It was a tragedy, all those poor larva dead, the poor mother was facing charges of criminal neglect and little Anne, the only survivor was still in hospital. Her cute little pupal face was in the papers for days while it felt like the entire insect world waited with baited breath to hear whether the doctors thought the young Ladybird would make it or not. The smell of smoke had hung in the air for several days afterwards but that was really the only effect I thought the fire would have on me. Boy was I wrong.

For me things started the day SHE flew into my office. Well, he flew in and almost took out my door. She glided in on wings of shimmering blue and even knowing what I know now I have to be honest, I wanted her in that moment. Her dark legs stretched up like four pillars of heaven and the sparkling blue pattern that trailed down from the tip of her wings to the base where it ended in four perfectly formed and jeweled crescents was dazzling. She was the perfect specimen of a blue triangle, a rare beauty down here in Lower Rosebush. I would come to learn that the bodyguard was named Griff, a giant black rhinoceros beetle who barely fit through my door after he crashed it open, causing me to spill my coffee all down my thorax. He took a look around the office, sneered at me and then stood aside for her to glide gracefully across my threshold, she took my breath away! Her feet seemed to glide across the wooden floor of my office as she crossed to take a seat in front of my desk, her stunning wings folded demurely behind her back, all four legs crossed and her hands clutching at each other.

It pulled on my heartstrings to see her like that and I’m sure that’s exactly what she wanted, turns out she was a great actress. Sera Bollero, that’s how this beauty introduced herself that fine morning as I used a napkin to try to sop up the coffee with one hand and offered her the other to shake. She didn’t take it. Cockchaser, she called me Mr Cockchaser and always did. At first I tried to correct her but once she pulled out that first check I found I didn’t care anymore.

“Mister Cockchaser, I need your help,” Sera said quietly, as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

“It’s CockchaFer, with an F,” I said patiently, I’d had this conversation more than once before, especially when I’d gotten that fancy writing on my sign outside on the branch. “But it’d be my pleasure to aid you Mrs Bollero.”

“Ms. Bollero, please,” she smiled at me and I may have swooned a little. “I need you to be discreet Mr Cockchaser, that’s why I’m here and not going to someone else. I need complete discretion, NO ONE else can know about this case, you will be adequately compensated.”

A click drew my attention away from her exquisite face to the door. Her guard had stepped outside, I could see his outline through the frosted glass panel with my name on it. I nodded understanding and stood from my desk, flicking the coffee machine on with one hand as I stepped over to the window. I drew the blinds and turned back to her, fixing her with what I’m confident was a steely gaze of reassurance.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Bollero, I am the very soul of discretion,” I said.

I stepped back to the table, throwing the sopping napkins in my litter basket and putting my coffee cup under the machine’s spout just as it started to pour. It was a timing I’d learnt over twelve years as my faithful old coffee machine had followed me through three offices and a couple of messy breakups. I knew it often impressed clients when I did this and I looked out of the corner of my eye at her to see if she’d noticed. She gently waved one hand in front of her face to keep cool, obviously bored and ready to get down to business. She waved me away when I offered her a coffee too and then I sat back down, a fresh coffee in my hand (no sugar, thanks to the latest diet the trainer at my gym has me on) and we got to business.

“I’m sure you heard about the Ladybird fire, Mr Cockchaser? What a silly question, everyone’s heard about it, unless they’ve been living under a rock. You haven’t been living under a rock, have you Mr Cockchaser?” she paused long enough for me nod and then continued. “I don’t believe the fire was an accident, Mr Cockchaser and I need you to prove it. I don’t just mean some vague suspicion, I need solid, tangible proof that I can take to someone in authority.”

I nodded slowly, my mind working as fast as it could, being asked to investigate the fire that had killed all those larvae was the last thing I’d ever expect to be asked to do. The thought that all of those deaths could have been caused by someone on purpose sickened me. I swallowed a lump in my throat and, ignoring a niggling doubt in the back of my mind I took the first step into this madness.

“I’m happy to see what I can find if you’re willing to pay for it, Ms Bollero,” I said. I was ready to launch into a list of prices I thought she’d be willing to pay for my time but she interrupted me with a check pulled from her small purse.

“I believe this should be sufficient as a retainer for the first week of investigation?” she asked, her voice was like silk sliding across smooth glass. I nodded weekly, agog at the number of zero’s. For a week she’d said? “And I believe this will cover the one days advance expenses your ad said you require for large cases.”

The envelope she handed me was stuffed with twenty dollar bills. There was at least two thousand dollars there. What had I got myself into? Before I could say anything she stood. I stood too and only barely managed to not wear my second coffee of the day.

“Discretion, Mr Cockchaser,” she said and spun to the door, sweeping it open and stepping through onto the branch in one almost ballet like motion. I followed, a little smitten and watched as she spread her wings and lifted off, hovering just off the ground. The rhinoceros beetle leaned towards me, his great horn a terrifying sight close up. He cleared his throat and whispered in my ear. What he said was just another piece of this bizarre puzzle that would come to be the bane of my existence. And then, with a great thrum and a rush of air that almost blew me off my feet he lifted off and the two flew away, up towards Rosebush Heights, or even beyond, out to another bush or another garden.

“Beware the mantis,” That’s what that great hulk said to me: “Beware the mantis.” If I’d had any sense I would’ve been more “Beware the mystery butterfly and her henchman bearing too much money.”

Chapter Two

In which things start to go hinkey and discoveries are made.

After they’d flown off to wherever they were going I realized she hadn’t given me any details on how to contact her. Even if I investigated and found something, who would I tell? Oh well, she’d paid a deposit, I’d put the check in my account and start investigating and give her the money’s worth. Maybe she’d come back sometime soon, either way the money was welcome. The rent was due, bills were piling up and I needed to eat. Buying some porn or a new TV would’ve been nice too. I went back into the office, flicking the sign outside to say ‘Closed’ and locking the door behind me. I strode across the office to the small door on the far side that let into my small, (barely) one bedroom apartment. A quick shower to get the coffee off, make a bite to eat and then sit down at the computer to see if there was any info I could find about the fire that I hadn’t already heard on the news.

The shower was easy. My bathroom consisted of a tiny closet by the bed that housed an even tinier shower and a toilet. It wasn’t easy for even a beetle like me to fit, I’d hate to imagine someone like the rhinoceros beetle trying to fit back here. Maybe I would’ve heard them had I just been showering but I have this habit, it helps me clear my mind you see. I like to, how do I put this delicately? I like to sing pop songs in the shower. Pretty loudly. So I’d stepped out of the shower, pulled all four of my legs into a pair of underwear and was coming out of the bathroom closet when I saw them. I think they’d have known I was coming out if I’d stopped singing but I didn’t. Not until I saw them anyway. Talk about a moment of awkward silence. Then all three of us were scrambling.

The trio of fleas leaped and bounded around my apartment, knocking furniture over as their small bodies careened around. With a push of my wings I swept forward, right into the path of one of them. His narrow body, less than half the length of mine, was reddish in colour and I could feel the heat of the blood through his chitin, he had recently fed. His tiny, tube-like mouth darted at my face like a living dagger but I pushed it away with one hand and tried to grasp his small body against me with the other, trying to smother his movements. I immediately regretted it, his body was covered in sharp spines and hairs. One of his powerful hind legs shot out and caught me low on my body, knocking my grip on him loose. With a quick twist the flea bunched his legs and pushed hard to jump again. I plunged my arm forward and managed to snag a piece of his neck chitin as he jumped. The power of his jump pulled him out of my hands but the damage was done, my weight had pulled him off course and I could hear the snap of his carapace as he smashed head-first into my bathroom closet. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be hearing from him again as his legs curled in and his limp body fell to the ground. I spun to see how the other two would react. They stared a moment and then one of them started chittering in a high pitched voice and pulled a tiny hand gun from from a pocket and started firing. The size of the gun would have made me laugh if the first shot hadn’t taken out the the vase my mother had given my as a housewarming present in an explosion of fake crystal.

I dived behind the sofa as more bullets whizzed around me. These guys wanted to play rough, hey? I’d show them what rough was. I waited until I could hear him reloading before I stood and pushed with my feet, unfurling my wings to fly over my bed, crashing into the small bedside table there and knocking it to the floor behind the bed with me as the hail of bullets resumed. The drawer from the night table had spilled open as it had fallen and I scooped up a handful of the bullets that were now strewn across my floor. I scanned the floor for my revolver that should have been in the drawer with the bullets but it was nowhere to be seen. Fluff from my mattress flew around me as more bullets hit my bed. I ducked my head to the floor and that’s when I saw it, my revolver had somehow tumbled under the bed. Another brief halt came in the firing and I heard noises I didn’t like. The one with the gun was coming towards me. I couldn’t tell what the other one was doing. I frantically scuttled under the bed on all fours, grabbing at my gun.

I cursed under my breath as I hastily fumbled bullets into it. Why didn’t I keep this thing loaded? I heard the distinct twang as the flea’s legs pushed out in another great leap and then it landed on the bed above me, I have to admit, I may have screamed a little. I could still hear it chittering and a bullet slammed through the mattress to bury itself in the floor, meer inches from my head. With a primal scream that I hoped sounded more like an action movie star than a damsel in distress I opened fire, unloading every bullet I’d managed to push into my revolver into the mattress above me, praying for a miracle. Three shots rang out and then there was silence for a moment. Then a dull thud above me as the fleas body slumped to the mattress and it’s full blood sack, pierced by my bullets, started to empty onto my four thousand dollar bed. Of course, with the holes we’d shot in it, plenty of it flowed straight through onto me too.

I knew I couldn’t think about the blood that covered my or the two bodies in my apartment, the third flea was still here somewhere. I managed to cram one bullet into my revolver as I roleld out from under the bed, one bullet would have to do. I jumped to my feet with a cry, spinning hastily, trying to take in every corner of my apartment at once. He was crouched on my table, going through the pile I generally left my mail in unless I had money to pay bills. Was there something there the trio had been after? The deaths of his two compatriots hadn’t even distracted him from his task, whatever it was had to be important.

The flea looked up as I levelled my gun at him. The frustration was plain on his face, whatever he had been looking for it wasn’t in the pile of envelopes on my table. Envelopes? It dawned on me what they were after and my eyes flicked to the kitchen bench where I’d thrown the money Ms. Bollero had given me. The fleas eyes followed mine and he knew where his target was. I fired my last bullet but the legendary legs of fleas are faster than my old reflexes. He had managed to hop away in time and the bullet instead thumped a hole into the plaster of my wall. I lunged towards the kitchen, hoping to intercept his second hop but he was ahead of me there too, his spindly fingers wrapping themselves around the envelope full of my newfound money. The flea bunched his legs for one last leap and I desperately clawed at his hands. My fingers managed to find the corner of the envelope just as he pushed off. There was a tearing sound and the air was filled with money as it poured freely from the envelope while the fleas shot headfirst through my kitchen window, out into the daylight where life seemed to be going on normally for everyone else.

I dashed to the window but he was gone, with whatever money he’d managed to hang onto. I looked at the notes that were strewn across my kitchen, there were many of them still there. Two of his friends had died for him to get away with maybe a few hundred dollars at the most, were their lives really worth that little? Junkies was my first thought. That’s when I saw it, the torn piece of the envelope, a bloody fingerprint from where I’d grabbed it standing out against the white. What also stood out was the ink on the inside, the symbol that I recognized immediately. Was it a message from Ms. Bollero? Could those fleas have been more than just a few strung out druggies who’d seen the rich lady come in and hoped she’d left me some cash?

Breath rushed back into my lungs with a shock when I heard my office doorbell ring.

“Who is it?” I called, opening the door that adjoined the office to the apartment just a crack.

“It’s Mr Santini from down the twig,” this was just what I needed. “I heard some noises, what’s going on?”

“Sorry Mr. Santini,” I called, breathing a little easier and wiping at the blood on my face. “I got a new stereo and didn’t realize it was set so loud by default.”

“I thought I heard gunshots! You know what happened last time you caused trouble with your detectoring?” I remembered well, I’d come close to being evicted. No one could know about these fleas, not only would I be out on my ass but if that symbol meant what I think it meant, I was in a deep dung-ball.

“I’m really, really sorry Mr. Santini, I’m going to take it back, I really didn’t expect it to be so loud. The sales people should’ve warned me, right?” I knew I’d get him with that.

“Oh, them damn salesgirls, Buzzy!” I knew he believed me now, he only called me Buzzy when I was “on his side”. That’s what everyone was to Mr. Santini, “On his side” or not.

“You remember that time they sold me that massaging recliner?” Oh god, not this story.

“Yeah, Mr. Santini, I remember,” I interrupted. “But I gotta go clean up, I spilt my coffee when the sound started that loud.”

“You’re always spilling your coffee...” I could hear Mr. Santini’s chatter fade away as he talked to himself on his way back down the twig. Phew, now I need to clean up and get rid of these bodies. First thing was first though...

I had some old boxes that held some old case files in the office, some quick work with a knife and some tape and I had a decent cover for the window. It would at least keep prying eyes out if anyone happened to be flying by. Cleaning myself was pretty easy, another hot shower and a REALLY good scrub and I was ready to face the world again. Cleaning up the apartment was another story, two fully gorged fleas had left the place looking like a bloodbath. I considered torching the place for a few minutes but remembered Mr. Santini downtwig and the family of aphids uptwig. THey didn’t deserve to lose their homes because I was too lazy to clean up some blood. Later, when I’d wrapped the two flea bodies up and pushed them under the desk in my office and cleaned up the blood from the floor as best I could I wished I’d waited to have my shower.

After my third shower of the day (and I hadn’t even eaten lunch yet) all I wanted to do was fall on my bed and sleep but the mattress was a bloody mess, that wasn’t really an option. Wearily I dressed and tried to think what my next step was. I needed to get rid of the bodies and the mattress. Then I needed to find out who Ms. Bollero really was, I was beginning to doubt she’d been honest with me about her identity. All I had to go on was her name, the fact she wanted me to investigate the fire and that damn symbol. Someone had drawn it in black ink on the inside of the envelope that Ms. Bollero had given me, the one symbol almost any little nymph or pupae would know, the symbol of the Mantis Brotherhood.

Chapter Three

In which Buzzy has a visitor (and lunch).

I was still sitting at my desk, my computer on but unused in front of me, looking at the bloody scrap I held in my hand with that damnable symbol on it when the pounding at the door started. I must’ve jumped ten feet. My first thought was “I just bounded like a flea” but the smile died on my face before it had formed. I doubted that phrase would ever be the same for me.

“We’re closed,” I called to the shaped I could see through the frosted glass, my hand closing on the now fully loaded revolver I had placed carefully in my top draw, ready at hand.

“I can see you’re closed idiot,” it was The Brute, just what I needed. “Now open up before I kick it in.”

“I’m coming Officer Fish,” I called. Quickly I pushed the drawer mostly closed while I stuffed the scrap of paper into my pocket and hurried across to the door. I’d barely inched it open a fraction when The Brute pushed it in and strode through like he owned the place. His three long tails swished from side to side as he walked, one sticking out straight behind him, the other two at right angles on either side. The sunlight played on his head and his silvery grey scales shimmered.

He’d been known as The Brute around Lower Rosebush and the surrounding garden bed since I’d been a grub, not because of his size, even for a Silverfish he was small, but for his sheer viciousness. When I was just a new beetle, not long grown from a larva I heard he beat a cricket to death with its own leg for being too loud when The Brute had a hangover. I hoped he wasn’t in a bad mood today. If you’re ever in Lower Rosebush and need to go to the cops (god help you) then at least make sure it isn’t The Brute, you might stand a chance.

“What can I do for you today, Officer Fish?” I asked as I slowly walked back behind my desk and lowered myself into my leather chair. The Brute didn’t sit, I took that as a bad sound and swallowed. Then my foot kicked something in the footwell of the desk and I remembered where I’d stashed the bodies.

“I hear there was a bit of a ruckus here earlier,” The Brute said as his beady eyes darted around my office, looking for something out of place. “You weren’t disturbing the peace were you, Cockchaser?” Goddamn that sign, I’d never hear the end of it, would I?

“I had some problems with my new stereo, maybe that’s what you heard about?” as long as The Brute stayed on that side of the desk maybe I’d be ok. As soon as the thought entered my head it was like a light turned on and The Brute started coming around the desk towards me. I darted up and across to the coffee machine, cutting The Brute off. Casually I leaned against the machine as if waiting for my coffee with not a care in the world.

“So it wasn’t gunshots that were heard here earlier today, Cockchaser? Just after that lovely lady and her tank of a friend were here?” The Brute had eyes everywhere. “We don’t want any more trouble after what happened with those white ants last year do we? You almost did jail time for that didn’t you?”

“Look, I told you, I had issues with my new stereo. Now if you don’t mind it’s been a long day, Officer Fish,” I did something I never thought I’d do in my life, I took a step TOWARDS The Brute and as my rant continued he actually started to back up! “Some crazy lady comes in wanting dirt on her cheating husband. Then she decided she didn’t want to go through with it after all, but only after we go through the rigmarole of setting everything up. Then my new stereo goes haywire and I have my neighbours up here having a go at me for something that’s not my fault. Then I have to deal with what’s feeling like police harassment, Officer! That’s how shitty my day has been and don’t even get me started on fleas!”

“Fleas?” The Brute had backed across almost to the door but I sensed my ground faltering as he now took a step back towards me. “What about fleas?”

“Am I under arrest?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “Because unless you’re going to arrest me I think I’m done with you for now, Officer Fish.”

Oh dear lord, did I just say that? To The Brute? I couldn’t believe that I wasn’t already a dead man. Or maybe he did kill me right there and then and every moment since has been the true hell. If I didn’t end up in the emergency room I was done in Lower Rosebush at the very least. This is the kind of crazy thing that stress can cause you to do. I used to meditate to relieve stress but who has time to meditate when a psychotic cop is only metres away from the bodies of the fleas you killed earlier? Not me, that’s for sure!

“Now you look here, Cockchaser,” The Brute sneered at me. “Little nymphs like you don’t get to talk to people like me and get away with it. I don’t care who you’ve got ties to, I’ve got powerful friends too and I promise you, they’ll make sure slights against me don’t go unpunished. Tell HER that.”

With that Fish spun and slithered through the doorway like the snake he was. Who did he think I was working for? Did he know who Ms. Bollero really was? Did he know what I was investigating or that it had anything to do with the Mantis Brotherhood? As the day wore on every moment seemed to bring with it more questions. Questions upon questions and so far I had no answers. Where was I to begin? I needed to get rid of the bodies but first, lunch, a brown cockchafer can only do so much in a day before he needs a good meal.

Failing a good meal, a couple of sandwiches can do wonders and since I’m no cook that was what I had. After the sandwiches I moved the bodies, it had been stupid to hide them under my desk but it had been convenient while I’d been cleaning the apartment. Now I wrapped them in the remains of my blankets and moved them to my bathroom closet. Tonight I would take them out through the back window and down the twig. Two bodies dumped on the ground at night would be gone by morning, some predator was sure to take the easy pickings. The mattress was a different story, it really needed to be burned but I didn’t have anywhere to burn it. There was no way I could carry it any great distance by myself, this clearly needed time to think about. While I contemplated getting rid of the evidence that would connect me to murder I sat at my desk, trying to find information on the fire. There wasn’t really anything that I hadn’t already heard on the news or read in the papers. The father had died young, leaving the mother with dozens of mouths to feed and while she’d been out trying to make ends meet, trusting the older kids to look after the younger ones, the fire had taken all of them away. Well, all but one anyway. The official reports said that the fire was caused by a problem with the wiring, something that could have happened whether the mother was home or not. There was nothing here to indicate foul play that I could see, obviously I’d need to dig deeper if I was going to find out how the fire was connected to the Mantis Brotherhood. If it was at all. I needed to get out, get a breath of fresh air and give my mind a chance to clear itself. Between butterflies, fleas, mantises and silverfish my brain was too full for me to fit in there.


Chapter Four
In which Buzzy takes a trip and makes a purchase.

Ok, so I guess going out for a while when you’ve got two dead bodies crammed in your shower isn’t the wisest idea but I figured I’d already been broken into once today, what was the likelihood it would happen again? Besides, if anyone broke in and found the bodies what were they going to do? Report the bodies they’d found while being in my house illegally? That settled I gathered up what I’d need and headed out into the daylight. The sun was starting to get lower in the sky to the west, in the next couple of hours it would come to touch the mountains off in the distance as it set. Before I left my branch I knocked on Mr. Santini’s door to ask him to keep an eye on my house while i was out. I only managed to get away when I told him my errand was to take my new stereo back. That settled I walked down the end of the branch and jumped out into the blue, spreading my wings with the surge of adrenalin you get every time you take off, it always makes me feel sorry for the ground-bound. I once met an old fly who’d lost both his wings. He told me he’d found peace on the ground but I couldn’t reconcile that with the way it feels to fly.

Quickly I shot up through the air, leaving Lower Rosebush behind, past Upper Rosebush and then even past the exclusive Rosebush Heights where the ultra rich of the Rosebush lived among the blossoms. I flew north, over the Lavender, where I knew I’d be headed that night. Down on the far side of the garden, back behind the Lemon Tree stood the Lantana, the last major vegetation before the next garden, a hard flight away. I set down on a branch in Lantana East, outside the bank. Well not THE bank like “the only one” but THE bank as in the one that Ms. Bollero banked with. It had been easy to track down that one, the branch number of her bank had been on the check, it wasn’t hard to look that number up online. Score one for the “Detectoring”.

Inside the bank I was taken from one teller to another until finally a manager was able to understand that I thought the check might be fake and wanted assurance it wasn’t before I banked it with my own bank. Ms. Bollero was a real customer, I was assured, with more than enough money in her accounts to honor any check she made out to me. When I tried to push further I was told I could leave or I could be escorted out. Whoever Bollero really was she had protected herself well. From Lantana I flew back down to the Lavender. Down there, in amongst the roots, alongside the pawn shops and fast food joints was my bank. Service there wasn’t like you’d find at a bank in Lantana but they didn’t rip you off and your money was always there when you needed it. Well, except when they overcharged you for something, which happens enough so that you have to wonder what they’re trying to pull sometimes.

With the check deposited I felt more confident. Maybe I had pissed off The Brute, maybe I was in something deep but my heart was racing like it hadn’t in a long time, something big was happening and I was excited to be a part of it. So it was with a bit a jaunt to my step that I left my bank and, instead of flying straight home I stopped by a newsstand to buy myself a pack of honey drops. It was a treat I’d been denying myself on my diet but felt I deserved with some cash coming to me. I placed the pack of honey drops on the small counter and was counting coins out into the hand of the waiting cashier when I saw the magazine. It was one of those trashy magazines that fills it’s pages with photos of celebrities and stories about celebrities houses or weddings or other things that celebrities have. It wasn’t the gaudy headline that caught my attention but something in the background of the main picture. It was some kind of red carpet event, Antelina Jolie posing in some designer dress for the packs of paparazzi. Back behind her other celebrities waved at fans that lined the barriers with camera’s and autograph books. There, standing off to the side with the other minders was a hulking frame I recognized, Bollero’s bodyguard! I quickly added the magazine to my purchase, paid the weevil behind the counter and took off, knocking over a stack of magazines in my rush. I waved an apology back down at him as I headed home. I may not have a break on the case but at least I had a lead to one of the mysteries in my life!

Back in my office (which, thankfully hadn’t been broken into) finding out who Bollero’s bodyguard was didn’t prove to be difficult at all. His name was Griff. That was it, just Griff, no last name, nothing. He’d been a bodyguard to the stars for years but no where could I find any connection to the stunning beauty who’d hired me. Currently he was reported to work for the Lemon Tree Swallowtails, a family that was rumoured to have ties to the criminal underworld. There too I came to a dead end. Even a family as high in society as the Lemon Tree Swallowtails were nothing compared to the beauty that had come into my office that day, she demanded respect in a way that not even a Swallowtail did. My last thought was that maybe she’d married into the Swallowtail family but once again, nothing. I was about to close my laptop when I spotted those eyes. They were unmistakable, multi-faceted jewels that I knew at once. The face they sat in however was not the one I would have expected.

“Got you, Ms. Bollero,” I muttered under my breath in disgust. It looked like the next day would be busy. Not only did I need to pay a trip to the site of the Ladybird residence and the hospital to see what I could learn about Anne’s condition but now I would need to pay a visit to the Lemon Tree and see my new employer, William Swallowtail Jr.


Chapter Five

In which Buzzy takes out the trash and goes visiting.

I woke up with a start, I’d set my alarm for one in the morning, why hadn’t it gone off? I checked my watch and saw it was twelve fifty-nine. That’s when my alarm went off. I was dressed and ready relatively quickly, having laid out what I needed the previous night, before I’d bedded down on the couch. My revolver was tucked into a holster under my right arm, hidden away under my jacket. It was loaded and I had some spare bullets but I hoped I wouldn’t need it.

I had bundled the bodies of the two fleas into some garbage bags. Then I’d double and triple bagged them, those spiky little legs kept poking holes through it. Then I’d wrapped the bags in the ruined bedspread and sheets and bagged them again, wishing I’d had the smarts to do it that way in the first place. Now I slung them up over my shoulders, one bag in each hand. They were surprisingly light when they were drained of blood. I walked out of the office, using one of my right legs to pull the door behind me, ducking through quickly so it closed and clicked locked. I couldn’t fly with these two bags, the weight wasn’t too bad but they were unwieldy and I wouldn’t have been able to get my balance. I strolled down the twig, past Mr. Santini’s window, from which i could hear the theme to CSI: Bromeliad, the old repeats lulled him to sleep he’d once told me. On the main branch I kept my head low, sticking to the darker side as I hurried down to the secondary trunk and my ultimate target, the Ground.

A few times I saw other beetles and spiders but mostly this part of the garden was dead this time of night. If you wanted action at night you had to leave the garden and head over to Street Light. The clubs there raged all night until dawn. I could see the light from it filtering through the Hedge. If the Hedge wasn’t there, Rosebush would’ve been lit up twenty-four hours a day. I made it to the dirt without a hitch and breathed a sigh of relief, from here I should have it easy. It wasn’t far from the base of the Rosebush to the small patch of tomato’s that grew wild there. Here the shadows were darker and the noises more ominous. I quickened my pace and wound my way amongst the leaves. I was starting to run short of breath when I reached Moe’s place. The entryway was little more than a hole in the ground that I could barely fit into to knock. I left the bags outside while i waited for Moe to answer.

I could see the surprise on Moe’s face when he opened the door. His broad, well armored skull blocked most of the doorframe and his small eyes pulled wider than I’d ever seen them go.

“Buzzy, holy crap, boy! What’s got you down here with us groundbound?” he motioned me inside with his stubby little arm. Despite being able to fly like most other mole crickets Moe insisted on being groundbound. Most people thought it was because of his wife but I’d known Moe for many years, long before Diamma had come along and he’d always insisted on being groundbound. I think maybe he had a fear of heights, he’d never even come up to where the Secondary Trunk left the Main Trunk in Rosebush. I could hear Diamma in the next room as we walked down his hall, here I could easily stand, it was only the door that Moe liked small, he could block it with his head and defend it easily if needed. Before we entered the room I hurriedly thrust the bags into Moe’s little shovel-like arms.

“I brought you guys a gift, for the kids,” I said hurriedly, hoping if he lead with that I’d be able to avoid putting Diamma in a bad mood, I didn’t particularly feel like being stung tonight.

“Di, look what Buzzy brought us for the babies!” Moe boomed as we entered the room. Diamma looked up, even in her old dressing gown and slippers Diamma was a captivating sight. Her bright red legs and arms stood out in stark contrast to the metallic blue and green of her body. Blue ants like Diamma aren’t really ants, they’re wasps and most other insects avoid wasps, they can be a little unpredictable. When Diamma had first caught Moe she’d dug up his living room, looking for a mole cricket like him for her to lay her eggs in. Somehow in the ensuing struggle there was some sort of freakish love-at-first-sight thing going on, despite their vasts differences. Within months Diamma had a divorce from her first husband and was moving into the new burrow with Moe. It hadn’t taken long for Diamma’s eggs to be ready to hatch but without the body of Moe to feed them they would starve. Diamma and Moe had spent most nights the last few weeks out hunting for something for when the hatching began. My need to cover up two deaths couldn’t have come at a better time for these two and their new family.

Diamma opened the bags suspiciously but her face lit up when she saw what was inside. I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy with anyone except Moe. Her movement was so sudden and swift that I barely knew she’d moved before I was swept up in her strong arms, my heart beating wildly as I expected her paralyzing sting to stab into me any moment. After a second I realized she was hugging me. I barely had time to let that sink in before she’d let me go and was darting out of the room, sweeping up the bags into her arms as she went.

“You’ve just made our day, Buzzy, there’s no way we can ever repay you,” Moe said as I turned to him. “But where did you get those bodies, Buzzy? Are you ok?”

For a long moment I stood there, wishing I could pour out what had happened to me that day but I knew it was too dangerous for Moe to know anymore than he needed to.

“You don’t want to know, Moe,” I said, sliding down into a chair in his breakfast nook. “The less you know the better you’ll be. I just need a moment to get my breath then I’ll fly off home, just forget I was even here.”

“We’ll do nothing of the sort,” Diamma said as she came back into the main living area. “You can’t go flying at this time of night, Buzzy, the spiders around here would’ve set up their webs already and we don’t have the Rosebush Council to go around tearing down webs to keep the branches safe. We’ve turned the guest room into the nursery so it’ll have to be the couch for you.”

I tried to protest but Di said I’d be doing them a favour, taking care of the house so they could head out for the night to get some errands run. I couldn’t have been nocturnal if I tried. It didn’t take much arm twisting and soon I was bedded down as Di and Moe headed out into the night. I slept like a baby. When I woke up sun was filtering through a skylight in the kitchen into the kiving area. Di came in a set down a plate of food that smelled delicious.

“Moe’s sleeping and I’m off to bed,” she whispered hoarsely. “Eat and let yourself out, just make sure to lock the door on your way?” With that she left, heading further into the burrow where the main bedroom was situated. The breakfast was delicious, the first cooked breakfast I’d had since my last girlfriend had left me, in the middle of a breakfast she’d cooked me.

I was well rested as I left Moe’s burrow. Around me, clinging to leaves and branches were the remnants of webs, glistening with dew in the early morning light. Di had been right not to let me fly home the night before. I looked down at my shirt and pants. Despite having slept in them my clothes didn’t look too crushed, I could easily go about my errands without heading home and getting changed first. I launched myself into the air, easily avoiding the few remaining webs as I sped up, away from the Tomato and towards the Hedge. I thought I might have to fly around for a while before I found the site of the Ladybird ruin but it stood out from the green of the Hedge like a sore thumb. The branch around it was stripped of leaves and the twig where the home had been situated was a tortured, blackened stump that stretched up towards the sky as if begging to be put down. I set down on the branch and looked up at the black wood, the acrid smell of smoke still hung in the air here. None of the other twigs along the branch had been touched by the fire, it was as if lightning had struck the twig and insta-fried it.

“Tourist or pilgrim?” the voice came from beside me and made me jump. The little, pale green aphid looked up at me with big eyes.

“Huh?” I grunted.

“Tourist or Pilgrim?” the aphid boy repeated. “You come to take some photos and gawk or pray like the others?”

“Pray?” had the Mantis Brotherhood been here?

“Yeah, Mantises, hoppers, ladybirds, a handful of bees, even a full family of Ladybirds that flew in from so far south I hadn’t even heard of the bush they were from!” The aphid’s eyes swelled even bigger with wonder. “They all come to pray for Anne. Usually at sunset if you want to come back for it.”

It was possible that the Mantis Brotherhood coming here was about more than prayer but it did stand to reason with such a famous case that many people would come here to pray. Maybe a kid like this wasn’t a great source of information, I started to turn away when it clicked... a kid?

“Say, kid,” I turned back to him. “Do you pray for Anne? You’re about her age, right, you guys friends?”

The colour drained from the kids face and I could see his lower lip trembling, did I just traumatise a kid by talking about his best friend who was stuck in a coma?

“I hope she never wakes up,” it was little more than a whisper. “She scares me. She scares everyone.” The kid darted across the branch before I could say any more, ducking through a door in the twig there, slamming it behind him. Well, looks like I hadn’t traumatised him at least but something had. That something was a little girl, still a larva, how was that possible?



Chapter Six

In which Buzzy “plays it bold” and gains an ally.

A few door knocks around the neighbourhood proved fruitless. As soon as anyone realised I wanted to talk about the Ladybird fire they clammed up. Soon it seemed like phones were ringing off the hook, neighbours calling each other to warn them I was coming. When I was run out of one twig by an irate cicada I decided it was time to leave the Hedge for now. It was time to head to the Lemon Tree. The Swallowtail Estates took up an entire branch in Lemontreetop. Granted it wasn’t a main branch but it was an entire branch! There had to be at least fifteen to twenty twigs on the branch and plenty of leafy coverage. In the centre of the branch a huge clump of leaves had been drawn together, mandible-cut by ant workers and sewn expertly with silk to form a huge mansion. it was obvious where the estate began, where the branch met the supporting branch, or maybe it was a tertiary trunk, I couldn’t honestly say. Anyway, there was a fence across the branch, making sure anyone coming that way couldn’t get past unchecked but that was no hindrance for a flyer. I’d played it bold with The Brute, could the same thing work here, there was only one way to find out.

I flew straight down, making it obvious to anyone watching that I was heading to land in front of the big main doors of the mansion and boy, were they watching alright. My feet had barely had time to shuffle into a comfortable position so I could fold my wings and they had my surrounded. Two black and yellow banded wasps, European if I remembered some of what I’d learnt at school and obviously twins, a brown earwig, his menacing tail pincers turned to point directly at me and standing right in front of me a little black field cricket, his body shining like oil on water. A god awful groaning noise, like the shrieks of the dead made my skin crawl. I realised it was the cricket’s wings. Somehow, far in the past his right wing had obviously been broken and hadn’t healed well. Now, when the wings rubbed together to “sing” they produced an unearthly noise that no bug was meant to hear.

“Howdy fellas,” I tried to make my voice sound a lot more confident than I felt. “I’m here to see Ms. Bollero.”

“Ain’t no one here by dat name,” the earwig said, his pincers coming closer than I’d like as he stepped toward me.

“My mistake, I was thinking about tomorrows appointments,” I held up my hands a little, palms out, hoping they wouldn’t notice the bulge of my gun under my arm, that’d prove kinda fatal right now. “Today I’m supposed to see Mr. Swallowtail Jr. He’s expecting me, Buzzy Cockchafer.”

After an almost imperceptible nod from the cricket one of the wasps stepped away and spoke into a small headpiece he was wearing. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, just enough to let me know I’d been right, the accent was definitely european. The seconds seemed to drag by while we waited. Maybe being bold was the wrong option, maybe I needed a new plan. Unfortunately nothing I could come up with didn’t end up with my dead or permanently disabled. Then, eternities later, the silence was interrupted by the wasp.

“Mr. Cockchaser is expected, apparently,” he said to the cricket. The cricket glared at me for a moment and then nodded to his companions who all turned and walked away. The cricket stepped to one side and cocked his head, indicating I should walk with him. I scrambled to make sure I kept up with the fast little bug. We walked together up the small flight of stairs to the large doors that swung open as we approached. As we stepped across the threshold the cricket leaned in close and whispered to me.

“That little dung-stabber won’t last long in the family business, don’t get in bed with him, Cockchafer, you won’t live long enough to regret it,” He finished the whisper with another haunting chirp from his wings and then stopped in his tracks.

We had entered a grand foyer that easily would have housed the entire twig that I shared with Mr. Santini and the aphid’s upstairs. the walls were covered in tapestries of a delicately woven combination of richly coloured silks. A grand staircase rose from the middle of the foyer, leading up to a landing where William Swallowtail Jr. stood looking down at me, his face was pale and I couldn’t tell whether he was furious or petrified. Either could be used to my advantage, if I played things right.

Compared to when I last met him, Swallowtail Jr had changed drastically. If I didn’t already firmly believe it was true I would not have thought it was possible that he was the same person as Ms. Bollero. Where she had been statuesque and graceful, his stance was stooped and stiff. Gone were the beautiful black pointed wings with the shining blue flashes of colour. Here were brown, almost dirty looking wings with splashes of white on them. THe wings weren’t even the same shape, where Ms. Bollero had pointed forewings Swallowtail had blunt forewings and distinct lobes on his rear wings that Ms. Bollero hadn’t. Could I have made a mistake? My certainty was beginning to waiver.

“Mr Cockchaser,” Swallowtail Jr said and I knew it was her, the voice was different but it had that exact same inflection. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Jimmy, show Mr Cockchaser into the office, I will be down momentarily.”

With that he turned and walked through one of the doors on the landing. I turned to the cricket, Jimmy, Swallowtail Jr had called him. Jimmy the Cricket! My eyes must have widened in realisation and Jimmy grinned at me crookedly.

“Oh, figure out who I am hey?” he sneered “Heard the rumours, have you? Don’t believe everything you hear, Cockchaser, I ain’t that gentle.”

Jimmy led me to a door at the side of the foyer and into a lushly appointed office. Gentle? The rumours I’d heard about Jimmy the Cricket were the kind of things larva tell their friends at sleepovers to prove how tough they are and then have nightmares about for a week. GENTLE? Jesus, what had I gotten myself into?

The walls of the office were also decorated in rich draperies where they weren’t taken up by full bookshelves and an exquisite hand carved desk of a dark wood stood to one side. A large, comfortable leather chair sat behind the desk and two smaller versions sat opposite, for whoever was visiting I guess. Jimmy the Cricket motioned for me to take a seat. not wanting to disobey such a notorious figure I hastily sat, hoping I wouldn’t have to sit here, alone with this legendary psychopath, for too long.

“So, Cockchafer, what work are you going to be doing for the little-” Jimmy the Cricket cut off as the door behind him opened and Swallowtail Jr walked in, behind him lumbered the massive form of Griff.

“Would you like to finish that sentence, Jimmy?” Swallowtail Jr asked, drawing himself up to his full height. The cricket lowered his eyes and shook his head, as much as it obviously grated on him to have to do so to this butterfly who he obviously didn’t respect. “No? Well, let me answer your question. Mr Cockchaser here is a private detective who I have asked to come in and consult on some family business. Now, if you don’t mind, you can leave us now, I’m sure father can find some use for you.”

The dismissive tone was cutting and if looks could kill Swallowtail Jr would have died in a bloody mess. With a last creak from his damaged wings Jimmy swept from the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a bang that I could hear echoing across the foyer.

“Well, I’m not sure that was a smart move, that guy-” my words were cut off as Swallowtail Jr spun to face me, rage plain on his face, his eyes bulging.

“Are you fucking insane?” spittle flew from his mouth as he tried to keep his voice level. “I said discretion, what the hell is discreet about showing up on my doorstep? If any of the guards or father mention your visit to the mantises we’ll both end up dead!”

I moved to push Swallowtail Jr away but found my arm in the powerful and very tight grip of Griff. Not only did he have a monstrous bulk but he was fast too. No wonder he worked in the industry he did.

“You don’t touch Billy, ever,” Griff grunted at me and released my arm, stepping back once he was sure I got the message.

“Billy?” I laughed as Swallowtail Jr sat behind the desk. “Sera? Ms. Bollero? Which do you prefer?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Swallowtail hissed. “Those names don’t get used here.”

“Fine, Billy it is,” I said, loving the scowl that crossed his face. “So, Billy, mind telling me why you think the Mantis Brotherhood killed those kids?”

Billy’s eyes flicked between me and Griff a few times before he finally nodded and seemed to breath a little easier in his big leather chair, like a weight had been lifted from him. The words came tumbling from his mouth, not much more than a whisper but every one of them clear and precise, there was no confusion in my mind about what Billy was telling me.

“I’ve got my own reasons for wanting to bring down the Brotherhood, they don’t exactly approve of my lifestyle but it isn’t just that. They were interested in that family for years,” he said. “My father has always allied himself closely with the Mantis Brotherhood, everyone knows us Swallowtails are devoutly religious right? They’ve had us keep tabs on the Ladybird family since the parents first got married. Every time the Ladybirds would have a bunch of kids they’d get excited for a while, then when the kids got past the larval stage things would quiet down again. This kept going and then, when this latest batch of kids arrived they cut us out entirely. Told us we didn’t need to watch the family anymore. I thought it was me, I’d just been put in charge of some of father’s security details. I thought they knew about me and didn’t want to deal with me. So I thought I’d have to prove I was good enough. I kept two guys on the Ladybirds, paying them out of my own pocket. They started reporting strange things - weird noises coming from the house late at night. The Mantis Brotherhood moved a member into the house, and my men said that the mantises kept someone on the property at all times, it was NEVER left without a mantid. The mother was drinking more and more, going out and leaving the children under mantis supervision. Then my men started saying strange lights had been appearing over the house and the entire branch sometimes seemed to hum with static electricity. The night of the fire my men disappeared. I haven’t heard from them since and nowhere in the news were the Mantis Brotherhood mentioned. Something reeks and I need you to find out what it is. We could bring down the entire church!”

“So you thought I could help? You’ve put me in-” I stopped, holding my finger to my lips. Did I just hear something or had it been my imagination? I turned my head and looked at Griff who was stationed by the door. He looked at me for a moment and then nodded, turning and opening the door just a crack. I could see his eyes widen a moment before he pulled back and clicked the door firmly shut again.

“They’re coming,” he said, hitting a button beside the door that I had assumed was a light switch. Four thick steel bars shot out from the wall, locking the door tight. “Time to cut and run, Billy.”

I turned back to find Billy already standing, his back to me as he opened a large safe that he’d revealed behind one of the tapestries. With a flick of his wrist he tossed something over his wing to me. It was a fat wad of money. There was more in this wad than I’d normally earn in a year!

“I’m hiring you as a consultant, Mr Cockchaser,” Billy said, pulling a large bag from the safe and then stuffing things from the safe into it. “Your first consultation will be an exercise. Get us out of here alive.”

A loud booming at the door pulled me back to my senses, away from the thoughts of what I could do with this money. I wasn’t willing to die for this butterfly, no matter what he thought he knew that could bring down the church. Yet he’d trapped me, he must have known from the moment I set foot on the grounds that there was no way out of this for him but escape and now he knew I needed him (or at least his brute of a loyal guard) to get out myself. I nodded at Billy as I stood, we were together in this now.

“Got an escape route in mind?” I asked him, pulling my gun free from my holster and facing the door. I crash rang out as part of the door was blown away by a shotgun blast from outside. Our time was up, we needed out.

“Behind you, Mr Cockchaser,” Billy sounded calm, like he’d been prepared for this eventuality. “Griff, time to go,”

With a nimbleness that wasn’t expected of his huge form, Griff spun on the spot and charged, his head down and his horn leading him outside, smashing through the glass of the window there and clearing a path for Billy to float behind him on spread wings. Another shotgun blast took out more of the door and, tucking the wad of cash into my jacket I unfurled my wings and jumped after this strange pair.



Chapter Seven

In which Buzzy picks some fruit.

I’d barely cleared the window when a bullet whizzed past my face, this one coming from outside. A powerful arm reached up and snatched my trailing leg, pulling me down amongst some leaves growing close to the house. Griff and Billy crouched here amongst the leaves. Billy’s eyes were on me and I could feel the weight of the money he’d given me, whether he’d tricked me into it or not, he was my responsibility now.

“East and upwards,” I whispered. “The branches there are tighter and leafier. Go fast and don’t look back. Griff, you are on point, wipe out anyone who prevents us from getting off this tree, I’ll cover our backs.”

Griff looked quickly at Billy, who nodded almost imperceptibly. In that look I realised I’d been mistaken before when I figured Griff’s bond to Billy his loyalty. It was obvious to me, seeing this unguarded and candid moment between them that Griff was in love with his charge. Leaves were swept aside as Griff’s powerful legs launched him upwards into the sky. Billy followed, his knuckles white in their grip of the bag he’d packed from the safe. With a quick prayer to whatever god might take care of foolish bugs like me I followed them, spinning in mid air so I was flying backwards, my little revolver pointed at the window we’d come from but no one was there.

The attack came from the side, I heard the thrum of wings and just managed to avoid the stinger that had been aimed at my chest. The european wasp twins were trying to pin me between them. I dodged and felt a sting scrape across one of my wing-cases. That was going to leave a scar, chicks dig scars, right? I spun, snapping of two shots with the revolver. the first sailed wide, nowhere near it’s intended target but the second was a direct hit, shattering the right wing of one of the wasps into a million brittle pieces. With a scream of pain and terror the wasp plummeted, spinning out of control towards the ground. I lost sight of him after he plunged through some leaves. A stabbing pain in one of my right legs brought my attention back to find the other wasp had buried it’s stinger into me. Now the wasp pulled me backwards, it’s wings out-powering mine as we struggled in a tug of war with my leg as the rope. Behind me, in the direction I was pulling, I could hear Griff fighting several other bugs while I struggled with one wasp.

I pulled my arm up to bring my gun to bear but the wasp grasped my arm, holding it at bay. With a grunt the wasp pulled me closer and pushed it’s sting in harder, I cried out in pain. I knew that now I was in close he could easily pull out and sting me multiple times if he wanted to. My death was in his hands. I took a gamble that he would be over confident and it paid off. With a moan at the ache it caused in my muscles I suddenly shifted my wings to fly in the same direction as the wasp was pulling. The wasp overbalanced and we flipped several times in mid air. Gritting my teeth against the pain I knew was about to come I twisted in the wasps grip. The hot pain in my leg intensified and just when I thought I could bear it no longer and would have to try changing tactics I heard the low ripping sound and suddenly I was free. The wasp howled in pain, holding it’s abdomen where it’s sting had been. I looked down at the sting still stuck in my leg and the breakfast Diamma had fed me lurched upwards, preparing for an emergency evacuation. I looked away, trying to think of something else, I needed to catch up to Billy and Griff. I flew hard, I could see them just reaching the cover of the branches I had recommended, neither seemed hurt.

The three new wasps blew past me, obviously I was the secondary target, they didn’t want Billy to make it to cover. These three were potters wasps, much larger than their european cousins and coloured in black and bright orange, signals to show you just how dangerous they were. Griff must have heard my warning shout, he twisted at the last minute, putting his large frame in the way, intercepting the bullet the wasps had meant for Billy with his own body, I watched the bullet hit Griff just as the leaves closed around them. My gun fired and one of the wasps fell from the sky. The second shot hit a second wasp a glancing blow and they broke sideways, seeking cover themselves. I plunged into the leafline, my heart racing. My eyes darted back and forth, looking for signs of life but there were none, even ordinary bugs had been scared off by the gunfire. I couldn’t risk calling out for Billy or Griff, those wasps were still out there and could be circling around at any moment. It was the groan that gave them away. Billy and Griff had landed on a small lemon that hung here, they sat on the top of it, Griff’s body leant up against the twig it hung from. I landed beside them. Griff was in a bad way, the bullet had hit him high on the back. If he had been grounded the bullet would have mostly been soaked by his wing-cases but they’d been spread wide in flight and the bullet had done him some real damage. Billy was holding some fabric against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and I looked down, over the side of the lemon to see we’d been found.

“Get him down away from the twig,” I muttered to Billy, not taking my eyes from the two potters wasps as they slowly ascended towards us. “Now!”

Billy didn’t protest, he just did as he was told for once, dragging Griff away from the twig that he’d been leaning against, the twig that connected the lemon we sat on to the rest of the tree. I was tempted to cry out “Hold on!” but was worried it wouldn’t work. I took one last look at the potters wasps and spun, leveling my little revolver at my target. The first shot hit the twig dead on but didn’t snap it. The second shot was the last one in my gun and thank all that is holy it worked, blasting away the last of the tiny twig and giving the lemon over to gravity.

“Ho-argh!” My warning came too late, we were plunging towards the ground. The lemon spun as it dropped and I fell to my knees, gripping tightly to the skin, hoping Billy was able to do the same for himself and Griff. One of the wasps managed to avoid the lemon but the other wasn’t as fast, it slammed into him and his broken body joined us in our mad, headlong race to the ground. The breath was knocked out of me as the lemon slammed into a branch then bounced away on it’s plummet. I heard screams fading away above us and I hoped the lemon hadn’t hurt any innocent bystanders. I gripped tighter, the impact from the branch had increased the spin of the lemon and it was taking all of my might not to be flung off into space. The world spun in a sickening jumble of blue, green and brown, the brown getting bigger and bigger all the time. The leg that had been stung by the wasp proved to be my undoing, it weakened and slipped. My other legs quickly followed, Within the blink of an eye I was only holding on by my hands, gripping the surface of the lemon for all I was worth. The air whipped past my face and I could feel it slicing in under my wing-casing, pulling at my wings, trying to force them open. I could feel pain lancing through my shoulders as I tried to keep my muscles tight and keep my casings closed. I guess I should have spent more time at the gym because my shoulders just weren’t up to it, with a painful snap my wing-casings cracked open, the new wind resistance too much for my poor arms I was dragged off the lemon and into the air, spinning uncontrollably off into th air. I hit something, hard. The ground from the taste of blood and dirt in my mouth. My ears rung and the world swam before my eyes. Black spots danced in my vision and long moments passed. Billy’s pale face swam into my sights but I could not process what he was yelling at me. Only one thought kept circling in my brain, we needed to get going, even here we weren’t safe. We needed sanctuary, we needed-

“The Hive,” I managed to sigh with my last breath before unconsciousness overtook me.

Siren Song Preview One

So, here's a sneak peak of the very first draft of the prologue of Book 2, just for you guys who are actually paying attention.

WARNING! SPOILERS!  If you haven't finished Phoenix Fire you may want to wait until you have before you read this, it contains some spoilers!

Let me know what you think, what your predictions are, what you like and don't.

So, without further ado, here you go...

Prologue

Drew 

Drew looked up at the house looming out of the mist. The old walls were grey with flecks of peeling paint here and there. Most of the windows had long since been smashed to pieces and ragged tatters of what had once been drapes fluttered outwards briefly as a breeze seemed to swirl through the mist. From his vantage point on the pavement Drew could see the small set of stairs that led up to the front door, the railing rusty and leaning precariously. The path leading up to the stairs was overgrown with weeds and alongside the house the dead remains of rose bushes stuck up like claws. This three story monstrosity was the stuff haunted house stories were made of, Drew wanted to have nothing to do with it. Unfortunately the pull in his stomach didn't give him a choice and, unwillingly he took a step forward.

The numbers had long ago fallen off the crumbling brick letterbox but where they had sat mould now grew. Thirty-seven. The house is number thirty-seven. Drew thought as he reached out to push at the metal gate beside the letterbox. Drew flinched as his fingers touched the cold metal but did not pull away, he couldn't. He expected a screech as the gate twisted on it's ancient hinges but all that he could hear was a faint sigh from the mists and the gate swung wide. Drew glanced around, trying to find the person who had produced the sigh but the thick mist obscured his vision in every direction except straight ahead, towards the house. Vague shadows of the neighbouring houses seemed like wraiths in dense fog but they were not important, it was this house that pulled at him, this house he had dreamt of every night for the last week.

Stepping through the gateway Drew was shocked by the change in the air. Where on the pavement the air had been chilly here, inside the boundaries of the yard, it was hot and suddenly cloying. An unknown smell floated on the air and left him with a metallic tang in the back of his throat. Slowly, each step being dragged out of him despite his desire to flee, he approached the house. For a moment the smell was replaced by the scent of ghost roses as he passed one of the dead bushes but then the moment was over and the strange smell was back, stronger than before. Drew had reached the bottom of the small stairway and there he stopped. Run! His mind screamed. Don't go up there! For a moment it seemed like he had gained control and he started to turn but something forced him to stop.

There were only five stairs between the overgrown path and the large wooden door and against his most fervent wishes, Drew's feet mounted them. Up the first step, then the second and the third in quick succession. On the fourth step Drew lost his balance and flung out his hand to the railing to steady himself. Heat and pleasure ran through his hand from the rail, up his arm and into his body. He gasped at the sensations coursing through him from the rail. In his groin Drew could feel a stiffening and he looked down to see his erect nipples poking under his shirt. With a mighty effort and a cry of disgust Drew managed to let go of the rail. With a groan and a resounding crash the rail fell away from the steps, crushing some weeds and rose bushes.

Drew's stomach churned as he watched the rail smother the bushes. He knew that he was less than a metre from the ground but it seemed he was looking into a deep gorge and the ground was miles below him. Vertigo gripped him and the stair seemed to shift under his feet. Desperately Drew reached out his hand and found the door handle for support. Immediately the vertigo was gone, replaced by a feeling of welcome, the house was inviting him in. Taking a deep breath, Drew pushed open the door, somehow knowing it would be unlocked and stepped up the last step and into the dim interior.

Drew's boots clicked hollowly on the wooden floor as he took several steps inside the house. Behind him the door shut itself with a soft click. Grey light filtered into the large room he found himself in through the broken windows. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, swaying gently in the slight breeze. What had once been an expensive and ornate rug was now nothing but a misshapen rag at the foot of the grand staircase that faced the door. Drew could feel the cobwebs brushing against his face as he approached the staircase. He did not fear any spiders, he knew they were long since gone, nothing lived in this place anymore, it was barren. An intricately carved banister of a dark wood flanked the stairs. Drew's fingers traced the carvings as he lit the stairs, his footsteps now muffled by the worn carpeting that ran the length of the stairs. In places the carpet had worn through but Drew's feet carefully stayed on the carpet, he wanted to make as little noise as possible.

At the first landing long hallways, carpeted in wasted red and gold ran off on either side but Drew spared them only a glance. Despite the doors he could see in the gloom and the hidden treasures that may lay behind each one, only the top floor mattered, that was where he could feel the call coming from. Up the stairs he climbed, towards the peak of the house, where he knew he would find something (terrifying) marvellous! At the very top of the stairs stood a wooden door, it's facade carved to match the stairs bannisters. The wood was stained a deep red and the waves of the carving seemed to flow and move before Drew's eyes. Heat pulsed from the door as if he stood in front of the living heart of the house. Blood thrummed in Drew's temples in time with the pulse and he swayed backwards and forwards as if in a trance. Each time his body rocked forward his forehead would almost touch the door, stopping just millimetre's from the hot surface. Backwards, forwards, thrum, thrum. Neither speeding up or slowing, the rhythm kept it's pace for an eternity. After what seemed an eon in this pulsing Limbo Drew's forehead finally made contact with the door and the pulse ceased.

As if Drew's touch had been the key the door opened slightly, allowing just a sliver of the yellow light from inside to fall onto the top step where Drew stood. He glanced behind him and the stairs trailed of, miles upon miles into inky darkness below him. Despite his most fervent wishes to flee, Drew pushed open the door. In the large room beyond lit candles adorned every spare surface, filling the room with a flickering glow. The carpet here was a lush, thick burgundy with gold trimmings. A set of drawers made of mahogany was topped by a huge mirror, framed in golden filigree. In front of the mirror, amongst several candles, sat delicate figures carved in jade and ivory. Displayed on one wall, between matching ebony wardrobes, was a large portrait of a beautiful woman clothed like a noble from an age past.

The bed stood in the centre of the room, an astounding masterpiece. Silken drapes of pale pink and gold hung from the canopy, hiding whoever (whatever) slept there. Drew could hear a soft rustle as the bed's occupant stirred in it's sleep. Drew's feet pulled him closer to the bed, against his will, whatever dwelt inside made him want to flee but his own body was long past obeying him. Ever so tenderly, Drew's hand reached out to part the drapes of the bed.

She lay on the bed like a beautiful corpse, exquisite, pale, perfect. Her skin was white as pure snow, her lips full and blood red. Her hair lay on the pillow, cascading around her head like a golden aura. She was the most enticing thing Drew had ever seen and he could feel his body responding, blood was rushing to his groin and his breathing became faster as he stood and watched her. Gingerly he stretched a single finger to her face and traced the sharp line of her cheekbone. Drew's past life was forgotten, in this moment his entire being was entirely devoted to this woman.

Drew flinched as her eyes snapped open. Nowhere in the pale white orbs that confronted him was any sign of a life, only emptiness lived in this body. Her arm snapped up and Drew cried out as razor sharp nails pinched into his throat but still he did not pull away, being touched by this empty goddess was a blessing, even if it was painful. Her ruby lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing ancient and yellowed fangs. Her tongue flicked against one and Drew could see the cut the fang made. No blood seeped from the wound only the noxious smell of the long dead. Drew leaned forward, intent on kissing this precious and rare being.

Drew awoke with a start, unsure of where he was for a moment. Then the steady pressure of Simon's naked chest expanding and contracting against his back brought Drew the answers he needed. He and Simon were in their bed in this motel room. They'd been staying here for almost a month. On the other side of the wall above the bed head was Jack's room. No doubt Kim was in there, watching the love of her life sleep. The poor girl didn't sleep anymore now she was dead and spent most night just watching Jack. They couldn't touch or even communicate except through Drew, death kinda put a damper on a relationship.

The digital clock on the dresser flashed it's green numbers at Drew, four in the morning. Just like yesterday and the day before. For the last week he'd dreamed the same dream every night. The house, the woman. Every night he'd awakened from the dream at four. Surely there was some meaning to this. This could be some new aspect of the powers he'd taken from the Phoenix when he had defeated it those months ago. He should probably talk to Simon about it but Simon was having a tough enough time as it was. Without the guiding influence of his mother Simon had been having trouble using his own special abilities. These days Drew was far more accomplished than Simon at using his extra senses. Drew wondered if he should tell Simon that he could still occasionally see Bev. Something had happened to her during the fight with the Phoenix, it had severed her connection to Simon and the rest of the world. She seemed to be stuck somewhere with no control over when she'd pop back in and out. Drew got most of his information second hand, Bev had lost her ability to communicate with the living it seemed and the only person who could now talk to her was Kim.

This wasn't the life Drew had thought he would have at this stage in his life. In his thirties, on the run from the police after most of his closest friends had been killed by a being from another dimension. Struggling with extra sensory powers that he didn't know the extent of, his cousin a ghost that only he could see and his lover struggling to deal with the loss of his mother for a second time. Things could only get better. Right?

Casey

'Cas, I'm on late shifts this week, won't be off til 3am, hoping to get some overtime too. Money for pizza and lunches is on the tv. See you at the weekend. Dad.'

Casey scratched the bald side of her head as she read the note. If previous experience was anything to go by her father would have left several hundred dollars for her, expecting her to eat pizza and junk all week. She knew if she went shopping after school tomorrow she'd be able to feed herself for the week for cheap and be able to tuck the leftover money into the back of her underwear drawer, where she was keeping her savings. She and a few of her friends were hoping to treat themselves to a holiday after graduation. Casey wandered into the lounge and found she was right, her father had left almost $400 sitting on the small TV. She shook her head in wonder, he was so bad with money, no wonder he was always trying to get more overtime. Casey was smart though, she knew how to make things stretch, she'd vowed to never end up like her father. She loved him, a lot, but she didn't want to spend her life living paycheck to paycheck.

At seventeen Casey knew she wasn't your average girl and it wasn't just the jibes from the other girls at school about her style that reminded Casey she was different. Thick rimmed glasses sat low on Casey's pale, pointed nose. "A cute button nose" her father called it. Casey thought of it as too small and too pointy. Dark eyeliner ringed her blue eyes, making them look larger than they really were. Her cheeks were heavily rouged and her lips painted in a neon pink colour she had ordered from a catalogue. Combined with her pale skin it made every feature about her stand out and she loved it, despite the girls at school saying she looked like a clown hooker. Casey's hair was her favourite feature. When she had it cut her father had just shrugged, he was used to Casey. It was at school that she had the hardest time. It had taken three meetings with her principal, guidance counselor and even bringing in her father to finally make them see that there wasn't anything they could do now that she had made the change. Until recently her dark hair had flowed down her back almost to her waist, then Casey had decided she needed a change and she had her best friend, Nerida, shave half of her head. Half-head. That's what the other girls called her now, "Hey, Half-head, blown any clowns lately?", "Half-head, I heard your mum killed herself because she was ashamed of having a clown hooker kid", "Hey, Half-head, did you leave that hair there for your dyke girlfriends to hold onto while you're eating them out?". Casey had heard it all, it wasn't easy being strange but it was the cross she knew she had to bear to be true to herself. She couldn't wait til her bald half got used to the light and stopped being that awful grey of freshly exposed flesh. She examined it every few days when she gave it a fresh shave to try to detect any change in colour but so far it had stayed the same.

Casey counted out thirty dollars and put it by the phone in the hallway, she'd call for pizza later. The rest of the money she shoved to the bottom of the front pocket of her jeans. Down the hall, past the bathroom she walked, her school pack still slung over one slim shoulder. When she opened the door to her room she was reminded of the other reason she was different to the other kids she knew.

The dead boy sat on her bed, looking down at his feet. His skin was powdered to be pale, black eyeliner ringed his eyes and black lipstick covered his thin lips. He picked at the dark jeans he was wearing with fingernails that were also painted black. His shirt was a promo shirt for some band that Casey had never heard of. The boy's hair stuck out at different angles, it was dyed black but Casey could see the blonde regrowth that had started.

And will never grow out, she thought. Now he's stuck with that hairdo forever, poor kid.

“How do you people find me?” Casey asked exasperatedly as she threw her bag of books into the corner of the room.

“Huh?” The boy looked up startled as if noticing her for the first time. “How did I get here?”

Despite her resolve to keep her interactions with the dead as impersonal as possible Casey felt her heart soften for this kid, his face was round and boyish and she guessed he wasn’t much older than she was, what a crappy age to die.

“Don’t worry mate,” Casey smiled. “We’ll get your business sorted out and send you on your way as soon as we can.”

“Business?” the boy’s eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

“Yeah, you know, whatever brought you to me instead of where you’re supposed to go,” Casey waved her hands vaguely upwards. “Let’s start with your name, hey?”

“I’m Nicky and who are you? How did I get here? Did someone spike my drink? Last I remember is waiting for the band to start and then nothing. God, how long was I out? My parents are expecting me home in the morning, they’re going to kill me!” Nicky’s eyes widened as he spoke, Casey could see him approaching panic.

“It’s ok,” Casey’s reassuring smile faltered, something was really wrong here. Why wouldn’t he remember, she’d never met one that didn’t remember it vividly. “When was that?”

“Saturday night,” Nicky replied and then when Casey kept looking at him he continued. “The seventeenth... Of May?”

“I’m not sure how to tell you this, Nicky but that was four months ago,” Casey reached out to pat him on the leg and her hand passed straight through him. Nicky didn’t seem to notice.

“Four months!” Nicky sprawled back on the bed. “Holy crap! What the hell happened? have I been in hospital? Where are my parents?”

“Gee, this is kind of awkward, I’ve never really had to break this kind of news to anyone before,” Casey sat slowly on the bed beside Nicky and tried to steady her voice. “You’re dead, Nicky.”

I was thinking today about when I first fell in love with horror and I realized it wasn't when my mum made a seven year old me watch American Werewolf in London (telling me it was a comedy). It wasn't when my dad rented Critters on VHS for our family movie night. Those just gave an already frightened young boy night terrors. What really influenced me was my big brother. Just like it was his Fighting Fantasy collection that got me into role playing and his bookshelf that got me into fantasy and sci-fi (over the years I borrowed Lord of the Rings, Discworld books, Dragonlance books, so many things I came to love) it was his love of trashy horror that got me hooked.

I remember being 8 or so and I wasn't allowed to watch horror (because of the previously mentioned night terrors) so when my brother (who was 16 at the time) would bring home horror movies to watch I would have to go to my room or go play in the yard (the only tv in our house that had a VCR was the one in e living room). So I'd be a good kid and go play. Then I'd sneak up the stairs, under the window and sit just outside the door, watching these forbidden movies through the screen door, hoping I wouldn't get caught.

In that way I watched so many bad movies I can't even remember them all, Q the Winged Serpent, Terror Vision, Return of the Living Dead, Childs Play. I would love sitting there, often in the bright sunlight, and being scared out of my wits by what I was watching. I was only ever caught once and by god did I jump. I never did get to see the end of Terror Vision.

My sneaky love of horror continued over the next few years. Most of my family were big readers and loved Stephen King, Dean Koontz and others. I soon discovered as long as I kept their place marked and returned it exactly as I found it I could read a few pages here and there when the books were left in the lounge or on the bench in the dining room.

When I was twelve I managed to convince my mum to let me go see A Nightmare on Elm St 6 at the movies with some friends. It was in 3D! Or at least the final 30 minutes were. Soon after that I got my own library card for the local library and it seemed sneaking around to watch and read horror was over, I'd seen a horror movie, with permission and I could borrow as much horror as I wanted from the library. The fact that I didn't have to sneak around any more didn't change my love of horror, it stayed with me and leaked through into my writing more and more as my teachers at school let us explore more adult themes as we went along.

I still have a special place in my heart for many of those old trashy horror movies and I own a good chunk of them on DVD now. Maybe I'd have found my way to horror on my own eventually anyway but I think that my big brother helped my mind find a place where anything was possible and there were reasons to always be afraid of the dark. A place where the fears I'd had weren't just mine, everyone knew that the boogeyman hid under the bed, monsters would use the shower curtains to conceal themselves and sewer grates were doorways to a hellish dimension. A place my imagination was weirdly at home.