by Stead, Nick
All the passion had gone from my argument, my voice bland and neutral. I’d wanted to work with wolves once, and I’d been determined to overcome the public’s negative views. But my heart wasn’t in it anymore.
“I don’t care what you say, I’d feel a lot safer in a room full of dogs than in the woods with a pack of wolves. I still think they’re evil. It’s just an opinion – you can’t change it.”
I shrugged again. “If the world had an open mind, they might accept them. Instead we’ve hunted them to near extinction. Just don’t be so quick to judge, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Yeah well, you can’t defend them after what the rogue wolf has done. Those bodies were horrible. Don’t tell me the victims died painlessly and their deaths weren’t violent.”
My face darkened. “That was no wolf.”
“Oh, so you’ve seen the beast have you?” Her words came out sarcastic and full of disbelief.
“Yes, I’ve seen it.” Every time I look in the mirror, I thought to myself.
“So what is it then, if it isn’t a wolf?”
“A monster.”
She searched my eyes for the truth of what I was saying and I guess she could see I was deadly serious. “Have you been to the police?”
I hesitated, unsure what to say. “I’m not sure they’d believe me.”
“Nick, you have to go to the police! It could help them save lives. You have to.”
Someone called to her from across the room, saving me from answering. She looked at me again, still a little uncertain, and then went over to her friend. I turned back to face the table and jumped when I found David standing on the other side, a madness in his eyes. I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me, too focused on the debate with Grace.
“You know what killed Fiona.” It wasn’t a question. “Tell me. Tell me how to kill the son of a bitch. Was it that same beast that attacked us that night after the film?”
I shook my head. “Don’t get mixed up in this, David, or you’ll go the same way she did. She wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“I have to know what did it,” he said, his breathing heavy with anger. I knew he’d taken it badly but I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Had he really loved her that much? My conscience squirmed. What did I know about it anyway? I’d never understood romance.
“A monster, that’s all I can tell you. I don’t know what it was, but I tell you now it wasn’t a wolf. It’ll kill you if you go after it, David. Please, forget about it. For me. We’re still mates, aren’t we? Fiona’s death doesn’t change that. Leave it to the experts. They’ll already have people hunting it. Someone will kill it eventually.” The lies came so naturally, I almost convinced myself. For a second a different reality existed, one where I was human and I knew as little about it as David did. The fantasy faded as soon as it came. He believed it though.
“I can’t forget it, man,” he said with a shake of his head, walking back to his seat just as Mr Enderson entered the room. I soon forgot about him when I was faced with my own pain again. After all, he’d get over her death eventually. He didn’t have to deal with the knowledge that he was the one who’d killed her, and a whole lot of other people. He didn’t have to face an eternity of blood and death.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Unholy Night
Christmas Day came; my sixteenth birthday. It would have passed unnoticed if it hadn’t been for the wolf.
Mum and Dad were trying to make it a festive time, but it was too soon after Mel’s disappearance. Her family wouldn’t be celebrating. I’d ruined their Christmas and my conscience wouldn’t let me forget it.
Amy was still grieving. Everyone had given up what little hope they’d had of finding Mel alive and she’d been presumed dead. There hadn’t been much hope left for missing people once the savaged bodies started turning up. No one could know how long the beast had been stalking the streets. For that matter, I didn’t know myself. Who knew how many the werewolf before me had killed, and the rest of his pack mates when they’d been alive? They might even have enjoyed it. But they’d obviously been better at hiding the bodies than me, otherwise I’d have heard about some kind of wild animal loose in the town, even if I didn’t pay attention to the news. People at school would have talked. Or maybe he just hadn’t been in the town long before he bit me, and there had been bodies elsewhere in the country. If that was the case I should probably be grateful he hadn’t turned up any sooner to pass on his wretched curse.
But despite all that, Mum was doing her best to make the seasonal holiday another happy one. We opened presents as usual and she cooked the traditional turkey with all the trimmings. What little I ate I almost threw up again. Even Dad forced himself to stay in a good mood in an effort to try and cheer me up. And all I could think of was the bitter irony of one of the Devil’s creatures being born on the same day as the son of God.
I was glad when evening came and I was able to escape from my family. Even if I hadn’t been depressed, it wouldn’t have felt right, the forced festivities. The day didn’t seem that special anymore, and I knew it would never be the same again.
Bidding my parents goodnight, I climbed into bed, but as soon as my head hit the pillow the usual nightmares threatened to take hold. It was enough to have me wandering the streets again.
We’d actually had a white Christmas. It was still snowing, and with the onset of night, temperatures had to be plunging below freezing. I could feel the bitter air the moment I opened my window and I shivered, but the cold was better than the nightmares so out I went.
I landed on the white blanket and began walking down the street, fairy lights twinkling at me from behind almost every window. The elements seemed set on driving me away again, the howling wind raging against me, driving icy flakes into my eyes and face, and making my bare flesh sting. On the ground, the deep snow was making walking difficult, and patches of ice had me slipping across the pavement. It was only minutes before every part of my body had chilled to the bone.
My fingers were the first part to become so numb they were practically useless. That numbness spread up my hand, and a similar sensation was taking hold of my feet. By the end of the night I may well freeze to death. I welcomed the thought and pressed onwards.
A strong scent carried to me on the wind. I froze as the smell entered my nostrils and called to the beast that lurked within, too weak from the cold and weariness to fight it. Pain seized my gut and there was nothing I could do.
Blood. It was summoning me to the hunt and I felt compelled to obey, tearing off the last of the human clothing and bounding towards it with fierce excitement.
The hunger was more powerful than usual. It didn’t help that the human wasn’t eating, making our wolf form gaunter. Fewer muscles rippled across my body and my ribs poked out on either side from beneath my skin. I desperately needed sustenance or I was going to waste away.
I soon found the thing that had called me into consciousness. So small and fragile, the newborn lay frozen in its wintry blanket, a far cry from the loving warmth it should have known. There was little wonder the scent of blood had been so strong, its skull smashed open and its skin shredded. One arm reached out at an unnatural angle and its mouth stretched in an everlasting scream of agony. My hatred for humans grew. They dared to call us evil when they could take an innocent life so cruelly?
I touched the small body with a paw as big as its head and gave a soft growl in the wolven tongue. “May you find peace, little one.”
Then I turned away. The tiny corpse was too frozen for me to eat, and I did not share the human’s need to bury the dead. But as I started in search of living prey, I vowed never to forget so pointless and brutal an act. By remembering what I’d seen, I would honour the life that was over before it had begun. I could do that much at least.
Snowmen stared as I prowled the streets, frozen guardians watching over their households with empty black eyes, silent and sinister in the darkness. They almost seemed to be daring me
to invade the homes of those who built them, but I wasn’t that desperate yet. Perhaps it was only a matter of time though, for the humans were all inside, their pets with them. Even the centre of the town was devoid of life, the nightclubs and fast food restaurants all shut.
I had all but given up any hope of finding the human flesh I craved when a fresh scent came to me, and I was sprinting again, following it to a damaged section of a building. Someone had boarded up the hole, but the plywood was already rotting away, revealing the perfect little den for any creature seeking shelter. I came to a standstill by that hole, nose twitching.
The floor inside was littered with beer bottles, and there was a strong smell of alcohol and mould drifting out. But there was no mistaking that other scent – prey, young and tender, and full of life.
I could see him curled up in the corner under a filthy blanket, shivering in the cold. My senses told me he was only a child, no more than eight years of age and in good health, despite the extreme conditions his little body found itself in. I didn’t know what he was doing in there but I wouldn’t waste time dwelling on it. My belly demanded food.
The hole was too small for me to crawl into and I snarled in frustration, grabbing the boy’s attention. I caught a glimpse of his pale face as his head shot up, his heart hammering and his eyes staring. My gaping jaws were probably all that was visible to him, drool dripping from between the fangs as my breath steamed out.
I started ripping my way through the wood. The boy screamed but he was trapped in there and he knew it. He pressed against the wall, a heartbreaking sight to any humans who might have been there to watch. But there were none to rescue him as I squeezed inside.
He tried to crawl round me but I was on him in seconds, ripping out his throat and then tearing into his chest and gulping down his heart. A sound made me pause, coming from somewhere outside. It seemed I wasn’t the only thing stalking the streets after all, but when I poked my head back through the hole it was to find nothing of concern. Still, it would not do to be caught in the den like the boy, so I dragged him out to finish my meal.
Pure white darkened to near black as blood splashed across the snow. Humans considered this some kind of holy day and I knew it would have caused an outrage if they knew what I’d done. Would it spur the Slayers on to greater efforts to hunt me down? I knew I was lucky no more had come for me since that first full moon. But how long would my luck hold?
I devoured my kill and slunk away, leaving little more than shredded clothes this time. My hunger was not satisfied, but I’d taken the edge off it at least. I didn’t want to change back so soon, knowing I would face near oblivion until the moon set me free once more, but it was safer to be human.
Minutes later I was back in my room, giving in to the transformation.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Descent into Madness
People looked to the New Year with hope. Amy was beginning to recover from the loss of Mel – it was slow and it would take time, but there were signs of her returning to her old self. Mum and Dad were hoping the holiday season would have the same effect on me. Pity the boy they knew was dead.
I was angry at the wolf for killing on Christmas night. It made it worse somehow. I might not have believed in the Christmas spirit anymore, but most other people did. The wolf had taken someone away from their family at the one time of year when families came together. If I’d known it had killed a homeless boy would that have made it better? I don’t know. I only know that I hated the wolf for making me kill on that holy night, when everyone should have been celebrating the birth of Christ, not mourning the death of a loved one.
Before I knew it, the next full moon was upon us. This time I decided to leave the house to transform, not wanting to risk the wolf killing in there again – not when it would be family becoming prey. The grief and the guilt I had known so far would be as nothing compared to what I would feel at one of their deaths.
So I headed out to the same fields as before, where I could shift in relative safety. Being near Mel’s unmarked grave did little for my mood though. The area was beginning to feel cursed, the soil tainted. I tried not to look at the ground where both Fiona’s and Mel’s corpses had lain, instead fixing my gaze on the heavens, and the beauty I should have found in the stars, had it not been sullied by the rise of the moon.
In my despair, I’d even tried turning to the Christian God for help. Did he exist? Satan did, I was convinced of it now. So there was a chance there was some kind of God up there. Yet if he heard, he didn’t bother to reply.
I tried again, roaring at the sky while I still had a human voice. “God! Are you listening to me?”
I waited for an answer, but the world was quiet. The sky above was dead and empty, devoid of any heavenly signs.
“God! Answer me! What did I ever do to deserve this? Why me? Why must I suffer?”
Still there was no answer.
“Fuck you then,” I snarled. “Don’t answer. I don’t care.”
But I did care about this, whatever I may have told myself. Why had he forsaken me? Was I being punished for something in another life? Or was it that God simply didn’t care? I didn’t know, and I didn’t know which I wanted to believe. Then the wolf took over and I embraced oblivion.
The next thing I knew, I was lying face down in the snow, feeling the cold creeping through my body, my mouth dry. I could barely feel my fingers stretched out before me, but with effort I managed to flex them, and the movement brought some life back. My toes were another matter. I tried to move them but there was only numbness. The gruesome thought crossed my mind that they may no longer be attached to my foot, and I found I didn’t give a damn. There should have been something disturbing about that.
I didn’t know how long I’d lain there, but I knew I had to move. That proved to be a challenge, and not just because of the cold. I felt weak, so weak I could barely crawl. The wolf hadn’t fed that night. It had collapsed where I now lay and the transformation had left me feeling like I was dying of starvation, my belly aching with hunger. I’d never felt anything like this. Why had it left me so weak? It didn’t matter right then. What mattered was getting somewhere warm before I died of exposure, if that was possible for a werewolf. I already knew I couldn’t commit suicide, for my family’s sake, and letting myself die out there wasn’t much better. I had to at least try to save myself.
Forcing my freezing, starved limbs into action, I tried again to crawl, every movement a struggle, every inch a fight to gain. It was slow and laborious. I didn’t even know where I was going, I just knew I had to keep moving before the cold robbed me of what little strength I had left.
A car raced past, too fast to see either me or the luckless pigeon in the middle of the road. The front right wheel went straight over the bird, and its life ended in a splatter of blood and feathers. My eyes fixed on the flattened flesh and crushed bones, and without even knowing what I was doing I was moving over to it and prying the body from the tarmac. I raised it to my mouth and bit it in half.
The taste of raw meat brought me to my senses. Disgusted, I dropped the carcass, spitting out the meat as if it were poison. Some of it had gone down my throat and my stomach heaved. The flesh looked worse with a glazing of bile.
As soon as I was able, I crawled back over to the pavement and collapsed again, feeling weaker than before. The full realisation of the situation hit me then. I was crawling through the streets naked, too weak to stand. How was I going to explain this to any passersby, or my parents if I made it that far? I was lucky it was another quiet Sunday morning. And at least I knew where I was now. The bird had done one thing for me; it had brought me back to my senses and I was able to recognise my street. Our house was just round the corner, though it felt like miles in my weakened state.
I made it to the side door, out of sight of the neighbours. The last of my strength spent, I couldn’t even raise my fist to knock. My eyes closed and I lay helpless, hoping someone found me before it was too late.
I opened my eyes with a groan, and my parent’s worried faces swam into view. Warmth was spreading through my veins, the feeling returning to my limbs. Everything ached, but the pain felt good. I was alive, and I was safe.
The hunger led a fresh onslaught against my stomach. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was still dry, coated in the foul taste of vomit and raw meat.
“Water,” I croaked. “Food.”
Mum hurried to fetch me a glass and some cereal. I accepted both without complaint. Right then I’d have eaten anything as long as it wasn’t meat, and for once the cereal didn’t taste so bad. Already I could feel my strength returning, and I looked around to find I was lying on the sofa in the dining room, with a blanket draped over me.
Mum’s face was uncertain and full of fear. “Are you okay, love? Can you tell us what happened?”
“Can’t remember,” I moaned.
Well it was half true. I knew why I was out there but I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d done whilst transformed.
“Where are your clothes?”
“Can’t remember.”
Dad looked at me with angry disbelief and I pulled the blanket over my head, thinking he might try to beat the truth out of me.
“Let him rest,” Mum said.
I heard them go to the lounge to talk. Mum was on the verge of ringing the hospital, insistent it was about time I was seen and tested for any serious health problems. Dad thought I needed a psychiatrist. Maybe I did, if only there was one who’d believe me, and who I could trust not to turn me over to the Slayers or even the police.
