by Stead, Nick
Not ageing was going to be hard to explain over the coming years, and I didn’t really want to spend an eternity trapped inside a teenage body. For one thing, it’d mean I’d never be able to drink legally, something I’d been looking forward to. And I’d never be able to see eighteens at the cinema. But maybe there was some way round that. Maybe I’d find a way to age myself or Lady Sarah would know someone who had the power to make me a few years older, just so I could finish puberty and reach adulthood. Maybe I was just being optimistic.
Still, the enhanced senses and greater agility, strength and speed would make me unbeatable in any sport, something I would enjoy, and no doubt it would have its advantages in the world of video games as well. I was going to enjoy thrashing David next time we met up after school, both on the PlayStation and in the real world when he wanted a kick about with the football. I’d already noticed a difference; I could clearly hear everything that was going on in the world outside, even snatches of conversation from neighbouring houses, but unused to my new powers at that time it was just a confusion of noise.
Even stranger was the sharp sense of smell. It was weird after years of relying on sight and sound as the primary senses. Mostly it was just a jumble of scents like the overwhelming wave of noise, but I could pick out a trail left by one of Amy’s friends a few days ago. At least, I assumed it was her friend. I couldn’t really understand what my nose was telling me yet – I needed the wolf’s mind to help me out there. All I knew was the scent didn’t belong to my parents or my sister. And was it my imagination or was my eyesight better than a human’s? Things were definitely clearer than when I’d worn glasses, but maybe I’d just been due for a new, stronger pair. With the enhanced hearing and smell, it all added up to a sensory overload, leaving me feeling like I’d woken on a different planet, everything alien and unnatural. It would be a while before I became accustomed to the changes.
As for the wolf’s mind, I could feel it somewhere within my subconscious, watching and waiting. And learning. I got the impression it was trying to learn more about humans from me. It was unlike anything I’d ever known before – I could feel the two parts of my mind and yet they were both separate: one animal, the other human, and yet both me. A reminder that I was no longer human, but neither was I wolf; I was something else, something in between, a hybrid of the two perhaps. I didn’t want to dwell too much on that. I hoped somehow I could still live among humans, if I could just learn to control the lupine side of me. What was the point in being a hybrid if you couldn’t have the best of both worlds?
I spent longer than usual brushing my teeth, trying to free all the bits of the wolf’s last meal caught between them. Showering also took a lot longer that morning. I’d never really liked washing but for once I found myself glad of this part of modern hygiene, feeling more comfortable for cleansing myself of the dirt caked on my skin and the death smell clinging to my body, unpleasant to my human self. There was still dried blood under my fingernails when I was done.
It was hard to believe just how much my life had changed in such little time, though for better or worse I didn’t know. With the threat of these Demon Slayers it seemed it wasn’t just my life at risk if they ever found out who I was – my family and friends could well be in the firing line too. I was going to have to be very careful with my new powers, something that reckless side to my teenage self would have trouble adjusting to.
Lady Sarah’s reference to a werewolf’s greater healing abilities seemed to be another truth. I was somewhat pissed to find my toenail had grown back on my big right toe. I’d gone through a lot of pain to have that damn thing removed when it was ingrowing, more than once, and every time it had promptly grown back and inwards like before, until I’d finally had the roots killed. It had caused me that many problems, I’d always said it would be easier to cut the whole damn toe off and even then it would probably find a way to grow back, with the nail on, ingrowing. So I wasn’t too happy to find my lycanthropy had restored it, as if I’d never had the surgery. I could only hope the curse would keep those problems at bay or I was in for an eternity of pain.
Back in my room, I found the torn clothes I’d been wearing when I’d transformed. I’d never even thought about them and I swore, wondering how the hell I was going to hide them and whether Mum would notice they were missing. Dad wouldn’t, since he took little interest in my shirt designs and he never did the washing, but Mum would most likely realise I was a pair of jeans down, if nothing else. Explaining how they’d come to be ripped apart would be even more difficult though.
If my school bag had been in my room I would have just stashed them in there until I had chance to throw them in a bin, but it was downstairs in the study. The best I could think of was to hide them under my bed for the time being. Once I’d been down for breakfast, I could take my bag up and stuff them in.
Next I placed the ornaments the wolf had knocked off back on the windowsill. It was easy to see where each one went from the circles in the dust, thanks to my laziness when it came to cleaning.
My glasses presented more of a problem. Damaged beyond repair, I couldn’t have carried on wearing them even if I’d still needed them to see. It was too much to hope no one would notice the fact I didn’t have them, and I was forced to rack my brains for yet another believable story to explain all these little details. But whilst I was usually good at that sort of thing, this was one situation where my mind was frustratingly blank.
Donning my school uniform, I was back to looking like my regular teenage self. It was time to face my family so I headed down to the kitchen, jumping the last two steps and landing in a cat-like crouch with my knees bent beneath me, left hand splayed on the floor, the other resting on my thigh, and my fingers bent into imaginary claws. It was a quirk I’d developed over more years than I cared to count, just as going up the stairs I had the tendency to either run up on all fours, or crawl at a leisurely pace, imagining I was something stronger and more powerful than a human. I think these habits started as things I imagined real werewolves would do, when I used to think behaving monstrous was as close as I’d ever get to living my fantasies. Oh how wrong I’d been.
I rose to my full height, feeling more alive than I had in years, more alive even than after the film on the night I’d been bitten. It was as if the blood that had drained from my kill and stained my body had somehow added to my life force, the animal’s spirit transferring into my bloodstream, giving me more energy, more life. I found that ironic, since I was now classed as one of the undead.
My mood was unusually high for a school day as I walked into the kitchen. Dad liked me to make the tea and coffee as one of the little jobs he thought I should do to help out round the house, and to that end I headed for the fridge to grab the milk. Mum opened the door just as I stepped up behind her, and the scent of raw beef weaved its way into my nostrils.
Saliva pooled on my tongue, my gaze fixed on the tasty morsel while my nose quivered. Instinct bypassed thought and I snatched the meat from its shelf, lifting it to my mouth and preparing to rip into the plastic skin and unwrap the juicy prize within.
“Nick, what do you think you’re doing?” Mum asked, looking as stern as she could manage through the shock.
I looked at her, then glanced across at Dad and Amy – both staring at me with open mouthed surprise – then looked down at the meat in my hands. Fuck. What was I doing? I’d never fancied beef completely uncooked and straight from the fridge before. This could only be the wolf’s doing.
I laughed as though it were supposed to be a joke and placed the meat back in the fridge, trying to ignore the craving still screaming for satisfaction. Amy rolled her eyes and gave me a look that clearly said she was ashamed to be my sister. Mum shook her head as well and Dad looked like he was going to shout but in the end he, too, shook his head and turned away in disgust.
He’d never understood my need to pretend to be a werewolf, and it was something I could never explain to him. It was something I’d
never understood myself but I’d never questioned it. Why had I always wanted to be something else so much? I didn’t know. Maybe it was the fact I’d never been truly human to begin with, if it was true that some people had somehow evolved from wolves as Lady Sarah had said. I had to be one of those people or, according to her, it wouldn’t have been possible for me to become a werewolf, even after being bitten. Of course, that wasn’t something I could tell anyone else about, least of all Dad, but to me it seemed to make a lot of sense. It would go a long way to explaining some of the traits I’d always had and my obsession with werewolves to begin with. Maybe it even went some way to explaining why I’d been so tormented by bullies all my life, if on some level they’d sensed I was different from the rest of them. But even if I could have shared those ideas with Dad, he still wouldn’t have got it. He barely understood me as it was.
Physically my Dad and I shared a few things in common though. I got my dark hair from him and, at least when I’d been mostly human, we’d had similarly bad eyesight, though his eyes were dark brown, and I don’t think he hated wearing glasses like I had. He was always changing the frames to match the latest fashion, whereas I couldn’t have cared less what frames I’d had – I just didn’t want them in the first place.
It wasn’t only the frames of his glasses that he liked to change often: he was forever buying new clothes. I’d always found it a bit snobbish how he insisted on having the latest designer labels, and I knew it annoyed Mum as well. There’d been plenty of arguments when browsing the sales aisles in shopping centres, the kind that raised eyebrows and attracted stares.
His hair was shaved short like mine and he was always clean shaven. We were of a similar height and if I had another growth spurt I might end up taller than him. But he didn’t need physical height to tower over us.
“So what’s for breakfast?” I asked, changing the subject before anyone could say anything else.
“You are feeling better then,” Mum said. “You had us all worried yesterday – must have been that twenty four hour bug that’s going round. And you know what’s for breakfast, Nick – it’s just the usual.”
She sounded slightly exasperated when she told me it was just the usual. I asked the same question every day in the hope that there’d be something more exciting than cereal or toast, and every day I’d be disappointed. Or nearly every day. Occasionally we were treated to a cooked breakfast, when I’d devour a huge plateful as if I’d been fasting for months. But most of the time I went without eating till lunch. I didn’t think I could last so long that morning though.
I checked in the cupboards for new varieties of cereal, but none of them looked any more appetising than the last time I’d been in there. Maybe if I set off early for school they might have bacon or sausages in the canteen. I didn’t really want to spend any longer in the hated building than I had to, but I was going to have to do something to satisfy my hunger. There was no telling what else it would drive me to do if I didn’t eat something soon.
“Hey, how come you’re not wearing your glasses?” Amy asked while I silently cursed her. I thought I was going to get away without having to explain that one after all, and I still hadn’t come up with a good lie. What to tell them? I couldn’t say I’d got contacts, since that would have involved a visit to the optician and probably my parents’ permission for the prescription. It was a believable lie for my friends who wouldn’t know any different, but I needed another excuse to tell my family.
“I dropped them and they broke,” I said, choosing to give a partial truth.
“So what are you going to do now?” Dad’s anger needed but a spark to flare into life. His hands clenched into fists, and muscles thickened from years of golfing and the gym bunched with the need for action. “How are you going to manage at school? It’s your GCSE year – you can’t afford to mess it up!”
He was always shouting at me, usually for little reason, but I understood it that time. This was coming from a place of regret. It was no secret he hated his job in insurance. He didn’t want me to make the same mistakes.
“Well they were giving me headache anyway.” I fought to keep my voice calm. My own anger was stirring, demanding I do more than just stand there and take it. But if I argued back it’d only make matters worse, and I couldn’t afford to set him off that morning. Not when I’d come back so late from the cinema and was lucky they hadn’t grounded me already. And then there was the thing Lady Sarah had said about strong emotions bringing on the change. I was going to have to keep my anger in check. “I think my eyes are getting better. I’ll just have to sit near the front and ask my mates to read anything I can’t make out.”
It wasn’t the best lie I could have thought of, but it would have to do since I hadn’t had time to think it through. I decided that was a good time to grab my bag and return to the privacy of my room to pack for school, where I could avoid any further interrogation.
I shut the door behind me and leant against it with my eyes closed, wanting to block out the strange new world I’d found myself in. But the thin piece of wood wasn’t a strong enough barrier against the volley of sound pounding my sensitive eardrums. Moments later the argument started downstairs.
“What the hell was that all about? Did you see the way he was looking at that joint?” Dad said.
“I don’t know, John. Probably just his idea of a joke. I’m sure it was intended as a harmless bit of fun, that’s all,” Mum replied.
“Well I don’t like it. And you don’t help, Emma! Encouraging him all the time, letting him watch those bloody horror films! And what about his glasses? How’s he going to cope at school without them? He’s so bloody clumsy; he’s only had that pair for a few months!”
“Keep your voice down, John, he’ll hear you.” No mention of Amy so I guessed she’d retreated to her room too. They rarely argued in front of us, though we could often hear them shouting at each other anyway. It was usually Dad who started it.
“And it’s all right blaming me,” Mum continued. “If we banned him from watching that sort of thing he’d only go and watch more films round at his mates’. Be grateful he doesn’t watch eighteens yet! He’s nearly sixteen – we can’t stop him watching anything under an eighteen. Besides, it’s not real and he knows that. He was always into monsters, even before he was allowed to watch horror.”
“It’s about time he learnt to enjoy sports like a normal boy.”
“Not all men like sports! Why can’t you love your son for who he is instead of trying to force him to be something he’s not?”
There was no answer to that.
“As for his glasses, there’s no point staying angry over it. What’s done is done. We’ll just have to take him in for a new pair. If they were giving him a headache then he might need new ones anyway; we might as well get his eyes tested again while we’re there.”
Dad grunted with disbelief but let it drop for the time being. My stomach gave another growl and I hastened to pack my bag, retrieving the ripped clothes from under the bed and hiding them under my books while I was at it. Then I ran back downstairs and pulled on my shoes.
“How come you’re off to school so early? Keen aren’t you?” Dad asked, as if nothing had happened. He seemed to have his temper under control again and he sounded almost jovial, but it was strained slightly, as though he was forcing it.
I shrugged and told him I’d arranged to meet up with my mates before school started.
“See you tonight then,” he said, satisfied with my answer.
“Yeah, see you all later.”
I walked out before anyone could say anything else, feeling his eyes on me as I set off down the street, probably watching from the window. A sudden urge to run came over me, not for any particular reason, just because I could. But Dad would know something wasn’t right if he saw me running to school (running home sometimes maybe, but never to school, even if I was late), so I forced myself to keep walking at my normal pace. I was sure I’d read somewhere before
that wolves like to run. It reminded me nothing would ever be the same again. Was the wolf going to affect every aspect of my life? It seemed so.
Lost in thought once more, I hardly noticed where my feet were taking me. Suddenly I was in the canteen, surrounded by the smell of food, and was relieved to find they did indeed have bacon and sausages.
The dinner lady gave me a scathing look when I asked her to pile my plate high with the meat, as if to say there was no wonder our generation was growing fatter by the day, despite my skinny frame. But she didn’t comment as she served ten rashers of bacon and five sausages. Almost visibly drooling, I nearly forgot to pay in my eagerness to tuck in. Another dinner lady on one of the tills shouted out and before I knew it all my lunch money was gone. Double fuck.
I chose a table to myself and made quick work of my breakfast. School wasn’t due to start for another half hour, and the canteen was the quietest I’d ever seen it. No one really noticed the vulgar display I was putting on, shovelling the meat into my mouth quicker than I could swallow it all down, a coating of grease spreading from my lips to the surrounding skin. It was the most enjoyment I’d ever found in the school’s substandard cuisine.
The plateful of meat was gone within minutes, washed down with water from a nearby jug. I pulled a face at the near tasteless fluid but it was the only free drink available.
My hunger satisfied for the morning, I supposed I should head to Form. The bell would soon be ringing, the corridors due to become awash with a river of students, fighting and pushing against each other as they were channelled between the two walls. Better to go early and avoid the crush.
