Arthur messed with his bright orange hair and checked his phone. The vampire was late. Again. A wind flew through the park, carrying cold and water droplets that made Arthur wish he’d changed out of his uniform. The things he did for his image.

Another few minutes passed, Arthur paced between the tree and the bench. One of the bolts on the bench was loose, he could probably pry it out, take it home. Lots of things to use it for, a necklace to give to Emma, melt it down into a ring. Course, that would mean getting a torch, an anvil. There was that new hobby shop that had opened up, maybe they’d have something. Problem was, torches were expensive. He could use his big coat, but there were still issues there, boxes were hard to hide, and he was starting to grow into his clothes. The Big Coat was just a slightly big coat now. If he started lifting more and buying less, saving where he could, he could save up for it.

Arthur had forgotten about the bolt when the next rush of wind came, carrying a different kind of cold. The kind Arthur didn’t need to turn to identify. He swung his backpack off his shoulder. “Caroline.”

“Arthur.”

Arthur pulled Excalibur from the loop he’d sewn into his backpack, it rang against the pennies he’d set in for effect and the sound hung in the air. Arthur turned around and put the sword between them, hilt gleaming in the light of the moon. “I’ve heard that some of your kind are in Tannedown. Get them out.” Caroline looked like a painting, every feature of the sixty or so years she presented was ethereal, impossible, warped. Arthur tried to avoid thinking of her as beautiful, but the word crept at the edges of his mind anyway.

“It’s done.”

It wasn’t.

“Although…”

Caroline was never done

“I think there’s something you might want to know, young king.” He hated when she called him that, and he knew that she knew that. “A few choice morsels of… vermin for you to vanquish.”

“Are you trying to get me to fight your battles for you?”

“Not at all, my liege” she faked offence, “I only wanted to warn you of some threats to your village. You’re aware of the disappearance?” Millicent Bradford, a woman long past her years, just disappeared one day. The official story was she’d left town to die, but Arthur had sources, she hadn’t left. And since there wasn’t a body, someone had plans. Arthur nodded. Trying to puzzle out what Caroline meant.

“Well, at around the same time that she went up in smoke, I received word of a creature. A creature not of this world.”

“One of yours, then.”

“Oh no, not at all.” the offence this time wasn’t faked, “a shifter. A beast. A werewolf.” So werewolves did exist. That confirmed some of Arthur’s suspicions.

“And you think that the werewolf killed Ms Bradford?” Arthur kept looking at her. She was dressed for the occasion, all in red. She’d either fed recently, or wore the brightest, bloodiest red lipstick known to man. Pinned to a shocking crimson cardigan was an old enamel pin, a set of teeth dripping with cartoonish blood. A joke, on her part. But useful, Emma liked pins. She had a jacket that was all and only pins. It was practically armour, plastic and enamel chainmail. Another thing he could make with a torch, Arthur needed to get that torch.

“All I know, young king, is that their kind are uncontrollable, feral. You think lowly of me, but We can have our conversation even when the full moon hits. Excalibur could not save you then.”

Arthur drove the tip of the sword a few inches into the ground without a flourish and pulled himself onto the back of the bench, sitting, as steadfast as he could manage. “How do you know about this?”

“I have my sources, they have theirs, they, in turn, have their eyes and ears open to any unnatural movements.” Every movement you make is unnatural, thought Arthur.

“And why do you hate these werewolves so much?” he asked. Caroline sneered.

“They besmirch our name. We were of the same stuff once, mixtures of human and not. Vampires became greater, higher, and werewolves…” she ran her tongue over her lips, it was too long, too thin, “They became an embarrassment.”

“So you want me to settle your grudge match.”

“I ask of my king to protect his loyal subjects. I’m bound to you by laws beyond us both, but those laws are not ineffable. You know your history, young king.”

“I do.” Arthur stood up on the bench and plucked excalibur from the ground. “I know what happens to people who disobey their kings.” Arthur was no king, he knew that, She knew that. But for some reason, after seeing him pull Excalibur from that stone six years ago, she couldn’t act against him. He had a vampire at his side. The last place you wanted a vampire, but Arthur made do.

“Go to these werewolves, and give them a message. Tell them I want to talk. Tomorrow morning, at the scrapyard.”

“Young-”

“Go.” Caroline pursed her lips and Arthur could only imagine the how she wanted to kill him, but wordlessly she turned.

“One more thing.” Arthur said, and she dutifully turned back. “Give me your pin.”

The werewolf was pregnant, and pointing a gun at Arthur. He’d tried to sneak up on her through the piles of old wood and tires, but a quick gust of wind carried his scent. She spun like a top and spotted him from a hundred feet away. “I’m a shit shot” she said, “So come out before I give up on the gun and tear you apart.” It was all for show, excalibur made it so that creatures of the night couldn’t harm him. He approached, holding excalibur in the sheath he’d made, unafraid, and the werewolf leapt twenty feet, landing at his side with one hand wrapped around his sword, and the other his neck. “No weapons.” She studied him, sniffing once, and let him go. “How are you controlling that vampire bitch?”

“I have my methods. Who are you?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“What are you doing in Tannedown?”

“Waiting for this tiny bastard to claw its way out of me.” She patted her belly, it was swollen. “I’d hoped to make it to Hartlepool but apparently we go through pregnancies fast.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Very.” she said, and sat down on a stack of wooden pallets. “Christ, you’re just a kid.”

“You’re not much better. How old are you?” She started to answer, but hesitated, then spoke anyway. “I’m seventeen. My name’s Amy.”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur with the sword. Cute.” she passed excalibur back. It was good to have it back, whatever control he had over Caroline didn’t extent to her distant cousin. Aside from being a magical artifact, excalibur did, in a pinch, double as a sword.

“You can stay here until you give birth, but you need to leave after that.” Arthur said. The werewolf was still a werewolf, he couldn’t afford to be soft.

“I’m not going to be able to leave.” She said, “Werewolf births are messy, or so I’ve heard. Not exactly anyone that can give you firsthand accounts.” The first thing Arthur thought about was the disposal. Could Caroline take the corpse? Probably not, she wouldn’t suffer the indignity. He would need a shovel, Matt had a shovel, and he owed arthur a favour. Burying someone was hardly a favour though. For now, he had to help the girl.

“What do you want done with the kid?”

“If it lives? I don’t know. Put it in the foster system, maybe it’ll grow up with a family, have a decent life.” Arthur didn’t think she believed herself. Despite himself, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for Amy.

“I’ll sort something for you. And then for the kid.” He said, and she nodded. Her face was stained with a grief that never showed in her words, but it was there.

Ten days later, he caled the kid Sabrina.