The Hybrid Series | Book 1 | Hybrid

by Stead, Nick

  Did anyone know I was missing yet? Were the police looking for me? Or did the Slayers have enough hold over them that there would be no search party, no rescue from the authorities? I wondered what they’d told my parents. Maybe my body would turn up days later from some tragic accident and no one would ever know the truth. The thought didn’t give me much confidence. I didn’t want to die there, at the mercy of the Slayers. They could just shoot me through the bars and there was nothing I could do about it. I hated that. If they killed me I wanted to go down fighting, not caged and helpless. Maybe it was years of bullying, but the thought of being at anyone’s mercy awoke the anger. And I knew if I was going to escape I needed that anger, but not yet. I had to save it, let it take over when the time was right – when the time came for a boost in strength and its ability to carry me beyond pain.

  Maybe the vampires would realise I was missing and help get me out, but until then I was on my own. If they came at all, which I knew I couldn’t rely on. Would they risk their lives to save mine? We were allies, yet we hardly knew each other. Both of them had been around for centuries and I’d barely scratched the surface. They’d told me a bit about themselves but I didn’t know enough about them to call them friends. I’d trusted them because I’d had to – there’d been no one else there for me once I’d become a werewolf – yet I still wasn’t sure whether I could count on them or not. Of the two, Vince was probably more likely to want to bail me out than Lady Sarah, I felt. And then I remembered Vince was dead. If I failed to get out on my own, Lady Sarah may be all that stood between life and death, my last hope. Another comforting thought. I was doomed.

  So, no food – that meant I was stuck in human form for the time being. I couldn’t waste energy transforming needlessly, and as I’d already accepted, I might not even be strong enough after a couple of days. There was no telling how quickly the hunger would weaken me. Perhaps the full moon had made it worse last time, I just didn’t know. Or maybe it was the fact I’d barely been eating in between the full moon nights whereas more recently I’d been feeding well. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became of how that must have something to do with it. It was only logical.

  Regardless, I didn’t completely understand the way my body worked. Biology had been hard enough to understand to begin with, thanks to Brewins, without the complication of lycanthropy adding to that. The transformation I underwent every month should have been physically impossible, so God only knew what was happening inside my body since I’d turned.

  Somehow I was betting I only had one chance at escape. If I failed they’d either kill me or they’d take greater security precautions until they’d learnt all they could, then no doubt they’d kill me anyway. Either way, it was just a matter of time. With that cheerful thought, I closed my eyes and let sleep wash over me, saving energy for when I would need it. I’d come up with a plan at some point, but until inspiration struck, I might as well get some rest. At least I tried to tell myself that. My mind was blank and I knew I was probably fucked.

  The first thing I was aware of when I awoke was the hunger. It had long since passed the point of becoming unbearable. The guards were no longer another obstacle to overcome – they smelled like dinner. I listened to their hearts beating and dreamed of their warm flesh between my teeth, their blood running down my jaws. My stomach gurgled and I tried to think of something other than food. After a while I slipped back into sleep.

  The next time I opened my eyes it was to find Aughtie watching me on the other side of the cage. I felt like a zoo animal. Actually, that wasn’t a bad analogy. Things were getting worse, now there wasn’t only the hunger to greet me when I awoke. I needed to pee. And there was nowhere to go, save a small drain in one corner of the cage, and no privacy. If I didn’t come up with an escape plan soon, I was starting to think that maybe I should just kill myself and save the Slayers the trouble. It’d be less painful and it’d take care of a few problems.

  I stood up, stiff from sleeping on the hard floor, and tried not to show any of my discomfort.

  Aughtie watched me with those cold eyes and finally she spoke. “You must be hungry. Tell me where your allies are and I’ll give you fresh meat. You can choose anyone within this base, and once you’ve eaten your fill, I’ll set you free.”

  “Yeah right, like you would sacrifice one of your people and then just let me walk out of here. I’m not that stupid.”

  “My people are nothing to me, just pawns to serve my greater purpose.”

  “Okay, so maybe you would feed me. But I know I’m not getting out of here alive.”

  She gave a small smile, one that didn’t meet her eyes. “Perhaps not. But I could make you more comfortable before the end.”

  I snorted with disbelief. “Next you’ll be trying to tell me you’ve found a cure again.”

  “Do you know what happens to a werewolf when they’re deprived of food? Have you ever wondered why you are always hungry after a transformation, or why you are left so weak if you do not feed, or how you can eat so much?”

  I frowned. It seemed she knew the answers to the questions, and I had to admit I was curious, but then, she always had that air to her that she knew everything. Haughty Aughtie my Mum called her, and it was true. She always made you feel like she knew some great universal secret, and that made her somehow better than you.

  “I still don’t know everything about the curse,” I admitted, careful not to reveal just how little I knew. What if my ignorance could give her some sort of advantage?

  “As technology evolved, so did we. Our methods have changed. Scientists are constantly searching for answers, and we are no different. It proved useful to learn about undead biology over the years, including werewolves.

  “Now we know that lycanthropy can only affect wolf descendants, and it’s not possible to transform until they’ve been bitten. And why do you think this is?”

  “What is this, a science lesson? We’re not in school anymore.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “And I thought I’d taught all my students to think for themselves. Very well – it is because the transformation relies on DNA. Direct descendants of wolves can revert to the form of their ancestors due to the small percentage of wolf DNA in their genetic makeup, unlike the descendants of apes who were never wolves to begin with.

  “We still don’t understand everything about how the bite works or why the full moon plays such a big role in transforming. We know more wolf DNA is somehow passed on, and our scientists have theorised that every cell in the body mutates and the DNA within the nucleus changes, until it becomes closer to that of a true wolf. Whatever may happen, the victim then has a higher percentage of wolf DNA which allows them to change form. Fascinating, don’t you think?”

  “Not really. Get to the bit about hunger before I die of boredom.”

  More irritation flashed across her face. I half expected her to stop there and leave my questions unanswered, but I guess she’d been teaching so long that she couldn’t help herself.

  “After a werewolf transforms, it must feed. The change itself requires energy, more than the body can cope with, and the werewolf has to eat much more than a mortal wolf could stomach to support the change back to human. If the werewolf fails to feed, transforming back to human leaves it weak. You would have been too weak to stand when you regained consciousness, if it hadn’t been for us.”

  Her eyes glittered with mad delight and she moved within touching distance, taunting me with the closeness of her succulent flesh. If only the bars hadn’t been electrified, I could have reached out and pulled a limb through before her guards had chance to stop me. But there was no getting past that current.

  “I had you hooked up to a drip so I could draw out your suffering until the end. How long can you survive without food? Months? Years? At least I can offer you a quick death if you tell me what I need to know.”

  “I’ll be just as dead, no matter what I tell you. What’s a bit of suffering before the end?
I’m used to it by now.”

  “Fine, have it your way.” Her voice was calm, but I could see a muscle twitching round her eyes. “We will speak again soon.”

  She turned her back on me and stalked out. I slumped against the wall, trying to ignore the discomfort of my full bladder and empty stomach as I mulled over what she’d said. Amongst all the science, there were some good explanations for what was happening to me. And believe me, that’s the simplified version. It explained a lot, and from what I understood, it was easy to see why there was no cure. How do you possibly reverse a mutation like that?

  Time passed. I slept a lot, the hunger seeming to increase with every return to the waking world, while I grew steadily weaker. And every time I opened my eyes Aughtie was waiting for me, growing a little more impatient, offering me food and freedom. I couldn’t be bothered talking to her anymore. I think my silence only angered her further.

  Water was pushed through the bars from time to time. It was in a plastic bowl to get past the electrified metal. But it was meat I really wanted.

  It got to the point where the hunger was taking over everything, sapping my strength. The same hunger that had almost driven me to dig up graves and snack on roadkill was taking control once more, and this time the only meat available was my own. I think it would have driven me to eat the flesh off my own limbs if I didn’t have the strength to fight it.

  It was beginning to feel like the hunger now defined me and I would be nothing without it. I could feel my sanity slipping away again, like when I’d gone through the mating season; instincts ravaged my brain until there was nothing left, except for a beast more primitive than even the rage driven monster. God only knew what I was becoming. It wasn’t wolf and it wasn’t human, that much I knew.

  More time passed. I was losing my humanity more and more by the day. I couldn’t even keep hold of my human shape anymore. Body parts were transforming, slowly because there wasn’t enough energy for it to happen and I was still trying to fight it, but it was happening all the same. Eventually I’d reach wolf form, and I didn’t think I’d have the energy or the sanity to change back. I’d spend the rest of eternity as an animal, or even worse as a monster, depending on how much of my brain survived. If I didn’t die first.

  One of my eyes was the first thing to go, the left one. It turned amber and there was nothing I could do about it. Then my right ear became pointed and furred and travelled up to the top of my head, and my teeth were starting to grow longer and sharper. My face turned into a mess, becoming more bestial, like a gargoyle. If it hadn’t been for the ear or the eye, there would have been nothing in my facial features to define what I was shifting into, but anyone looking at me would know it wasn’t human.

  I was growing hairier and I had a tail. My nails were more like claws. I needed help and fast, because I knew, if I completely lost my sanity, I’d lose any hope of escape.

  My eyes opened to find I wasn’t alone in my cage. I blinked in confusion, and reached out a hairy hand to the girl stood beside me, checking to see if she was real. It was Grace.

  Thinking had become difficult. There was no need for it anymore. The hunger truly was everything and instinct had almost completely taken over. But somewhere in the chaotic mess better known as my brain there was the realisation she shouldn’t be there. She couldn’t be there. Was I losing my sanity quicker than I thought?

  I opened my mouth to speak and frowned, trying to find the words. Finally I managed her name. “Grace?”

  She nodded.

  I tried again. With effort, I could reach beneath the instincts, and find the thoughts and knowledge that made up my humanity. Once I’d accessed that part of my mind, talking grew a little easier, though my speech was slurred, as if I’d been drinking. I felt drunk. Everything was confused. I couldn’t even remember what I was supposed to be; human or wolf or something else.

  “What you doing here?” I asked.

  “I came to keep you company and take your mind off the hunger.”

  “Help me,” I pleaded. “Need get out. Need food.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t help you. You have to do it yourself.”

  “Then kill me.”

  “You want to die here? Alone?” She looked shocked.

  I gave a mad laugh, fighting off the drunken feeling for the time being. “Alone, surrounded by people, what does it matter? We’re all alone in the end. It only takes seconds and then you pass away and there’s no one there for you. And anything’s better than this. Look at me. I’m a mess.”

  “You can’t lose hope. And when you die, you won’t be alone. God will be waiting,” she said with feeling.

  I growled. “No he won’t. God doesn’t give a damn about us.”

  That only seemed to give her belief more strength, her face the very definition of conviction. “You’re wrong. He waits for all of us on the other side, so that we may never be alone again.”

  “Oh yeah, like he’s here for us in life when we need him most? Like he’s here for me now?” I sneered. She’d touched a nerve and my instinct was to lash out in retaliation, fighting pain with pain. A year ago I would have kept my silence, regardless of my thoughts and feelings, but a year ago I wasn’t half wolf. “You can pray all you want in that empty building but he ain’t listening.”

  Tears filled her eyes and she turned away.

  “Why are you really here, Grace? I don’t want to listen to your religious crap.”

  “It is all I have to offer.”

  I frowned again and struggled to think. Understanding dawned. “I get it, you’re a hallucination. You’re me keeping me company. But why you? Why didn’t I hallucinate Mum or Amy, or a closer friend? Sure, we talked in school, but I barely know you.”

  “Your brain picked me for a reason, think on that. Perhaps you have more faith than you realised.”

  “Well thanks, brain, but I don’t need an imaginary friend.” I closed my eyes. Maybe this was my brain’s way of trying to keep me sane, a way to cling to my humanity, but I really didn’t want to discuss religion with Grace, real or imaginary. When I opened them again, she’d gone. I smiled and lay staring at the metal ceiling, ignoring the guards laughing at me. My smile widened as I began fantasising about escaping. Then we’d see who was laughing.

  Aughtie visited me a few more times. She seemed to find everything fascinating: the transformations, both mental and physical, my way of dealing with it, and my stubbornness, refusing to talk when there was a chance that would save me. I watched her with ever-growing hunger, and as my mind became more primitive, I even tried to lunge at her through the bars. Electricity travelled through my body and I fell back with a yelp, the smell of burning flesh and hair filling the room again. Aughtie just laughed. I licked the wounds but couldn’t transform to heal them that time. I was growing weak, and if I didn’t get out soon, I’d be in the same state as that winter morning. Then I’d be beyond escape.

  Eventually the transformation reached the same halfway point I’d been stuck in the night I’d killed Mel. It was roughly the same half man, half wolf form as before, though my hands were still basically hands, just furred and clawed. They definitely weren’t closer to being paws like they’d been that night – I’d retained my opposable thumbs. One eye was still human while the other was lupine, but the rest of my head had become a wolf’s.

  The primitive brain didn’t have much use for eyesight. It smelled the guards, heard their breathing and the beating of their hearts – different men to those who had been there last time I lay down to sleep. My mouth watered and I dreamt of the taste of raw meat, the smell of it. A growl escaped my throat. The guards raised their guns in alarm, the noise breaking the silence, the only sound I’d made in what must have been days. They relaxed when they saw I was still sitting hunched over, ape-like, in a corner of the stinking cell. The beast didn’t care about relieving itself in privacy.

  The room wasn’t as soundproof as I’d first thought. I cocked an ear at footsteps on the
corridor outside. More prey. The beast knew better than to lunge at the bars this time. It had learnt touching the bars meant pain, though I’d been wounded a few more times before the lesson stuck. Burns covered my arms and chest where I’d thrown myself against the cage door. I listened to the prey until the walls muffled the sound, and then licked those wounds. They were healing faster than if I’d been mortal, but the transformation hadn’t been quick enough or complete enough to completely repair them.

  There was nothing left of the human. All I had was the hunger and the pain. The beast had learnt to accept it. So I sat there, no thoughts running through my head except for instinct and a few vague images of blood and flesh.

  The lights overhead flickered and died, plunging us into darkness. I cocked my ears and scented the air, but there was nothing to hear or smell, though somehow I sensed something was different. Something had changed.

  One of the guards spoke and I smelt his fear. Panic spread to the others like wildfire, and then they all fell silent, breathing hard, hearts pounding when they heard my low growl.