Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood

by Morris, Steve

  ‘Quickly, Wiseman,’ he muttered, his hands trembling and teeth chattering from the cold. Back in the warmth of the cabin, the alcohol had dulled his senses nicely, but the shock of the night air and the adrenaline rush of terror had brought him back to reality quick enough. ‘Don’t drop the key. Don’t drop the key,’ he chanted as he carefully inserted it into the ignition. He pulled the choke out to the max and twisted the key hard.

  The V8 turned over once, twice, three times and died. Damn. If he wasn’t careful, he would flood the engine or drain the battery. He let the choke out a little and tried again. The starter motor turned more strongly this time and after the longest ten seconds of his life, the elderly engine spluttered into life. He pressed his foot down, revving it hard, and put the car into gear. The snow lay thick on the windows, but he couldn’t get out to clear them. He tried the wipers and they cleared a small patch, just big enough for him to see the space between trees that indicated the direction of the track. He switched on the headlamps and watched their powerful beams cut through the night, turning the dark trunks of trees into pale ghostly fingers.

  He could see nothing through the rear or side windows, and his snow-covered mirrors were useless, but these were not his biggest concerns. As long as the wheels gripped the track and he could see the way ahead, he had a chance. He revved the engine once more, feeling emboldened by its throaty roar.

  Then another sound assaulted his ears. A third wolf, as distinct from the first two as one human voice from another. It howled as loudly as the other two combined, an eerie wail that carried through the crisp cold air of the clearing, even over the roar of the engine.

  Leanna. She had begun to hunt.

  Making the sign of the cross and saying a silent prayer, he let out the clutch and felt the Land Rover crawl slowly downhill, the wheels bumping as their chains bit into the powdered snow.

  Chapter Four

  Leanna leapt down the cabin steps in a single bound and landed in the snow. Wolf blood surged through her veins now. Her breath hung heavy in the air before her but she did not feel the cold. Her winter coat kept her warm and snug.

  She padded forward slowly at first, enjoying the feel of four-legged movement. How could she ever have walked on hind legs alone? She sped up, travelling with ease, loping forward through the snow, away from the cabin, toward the distant hulk of the Land Rover and its dim red lights. It moved slowly, and she was fast.

  What speed she possessed, what power, what grace. She felt strength running through her limbs, an untapped strength, whose full potential she had not yet tasted. Her senses were heightened like never before. She could see clearly by moonlight as if it were as bright as day. Her ears twitched to pick up the smallest sound. She had never guessed that such a rich symphony filled the silent night. But her sense of smell guided her most, giving her a vivid three-dimensional map of her surroundings. She smelled the dirty Land Rover and its nasty exhaust fumes. She smelled the distinct scents of the two other wolves, Samuel and Adam. And over the top of everything else, like a sweet, high note, she smelled man. She smelled her prey.

  Leanna’s limbs flowed with the pure and simple joy of hunting. She joined the other wolves, and the three of them fanned out in a natural hunting formation, guided by instinct. She howled again as she ran, feeling high with the thrill of the chase. Wiseman had been drunk, but Leanna was intoxicated with blood lust. She had never felt anything like it. She ran faster, moving ahead of the others, the three of them sprinting forward toward the lumbering vehicle. They gained on it quickly.

  Chapter Five

  Wiseman willed the Land Rover forward inch by inch. The forest track was thick with snow, its edges and the deep ditches to either side invisible beneath the driven white blanket that covered it. He felt the front wheel dip as it strayed from the track, and he turned the steering sharply to keep the vehicle from plunging off the road.

  The chains gripped well, but the track was rough with hollows and fallen logs, and the ancient vehicle showed its age with each unexpected lurch. Wiseman urged it onwards, but the track stretched through miles of deserted forest before there would be any hope of help. The engine strained with every new challenge, yet Wiseman kept it going, moving slowly but surely downhill and closer to civilization.

  The heater was beginning to pump out hot air now, helping to clear his forward view, but he could still see nothing of what lay behind. He could hear nothing either, save for the brutish roar of the engine as he shifted his foot almost continuously from accelerator to brake and back again. His left foot lingered permanently over the clutch pedal. He’d not yet shifted out of first gear. Eight miles at least to go, averaging five to ten miles per hour. Part of his mind began to calculate his journey time but he shut it off before it could complete its estimate.

  ‘Keep your focus, Wiseman,’ he told himself. ‘Stay on track.’

  He was glad he could see nothing of the road behind. Dread followed him, his mind’s eye conjuring clearly-imagined monsters. He didn’t need to see them for real.

  The Land Rover lurched suddenly as a great weight crashed into its side with a bang. He grappled with the steering wheel to keep the vehicle on the road. One wheel shot into space and spun wildly, but he pulled the car back from the brink just in time. He pushed his right foot hard to the floor.

  The car dashed ahead, picking up speed. He changed up a gear for the first time. The Land Rover struck a log and he felt the steel chassis scream in protest. The sudden jolt dashed his head against the roof of the vehicle, but he kept his foot to the floor, seeking to escape his hunters. They were on him now, trying to force him off the road.

  Another wolf slammed against the Land Rover. Again he struggled to keep it on the road. The car bounced into a pothole and tipped onto two wheels as a third beast crashed against the passenger door. Wiseman gripped the steering wheel with all his might, but he was losing control. The vehicle tipped further, teetering on two wheels. Instinctively he threw his hands over his face as the Land Rover crashed onto its side and slid toward the gully at the edge of the road.

  The car careened into the trees and hit a dark trunk. It came to an abrupt stop and the screen of glass before him caved in, showering him in frozen raindrops that cut his skin. The engine whined noisily as the wheels spun uselessly on their side.

  Wiseman tried to move, but his left leg was trapped. His right hand pricked sharply and dripped red with blood. He lay against the buckled metal of the door, his eyes closed in terror, too shocked even to unbuckle his seatbelt.

  He heard a grating noise and a scratching, followed by the crash of more glass breaking. He sensed a presence in front of him and opened his eyes to see the yellow glare of a wolf looking back, its long snout sniffing hungrily, its sharp teeth bared. Wolf breath steamed into his face.

  The wolf had distinctive golden fur and fine features. Close up to the creature, he saw something he had not noticed before. Where at first he had seen only cruelty, now he saw beauty too. The world was filled with beauty, if you only had eyes to see it.

  Wiseman tried to smile, although he feared it was more a grimace. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to the wolf. ‘Please forgive me.’

  The wolf moved closer, snarling angrily at his words.

  ‘I forgive you,’ continued Wiseman. ‘This was all my fault.’

  He screamed as the wolf’s jaws snapped at his face, rending and tearing. His vision turned red and he screamed again as teeth sunk deep into his throat. His second scream did not last long.

  Chapter Six

  Leanna hated Wiseman for his final words of conciliation. She didn’t want his forgiveness or his pity. Those were the weapons of the weak. She howled with rage and clamped her jaws around his neck, enjoying the iron-rich taste of the blood as it spurted into her mouth and down her throat. She shook her head sharply, shearing the man’s spinal column with her teeth. His head lolled loosely from side to side like a doll’s.

  She gripped his shoulders with her powerful j
aws, ripping him from the straps that bound him to his seat, as he had freed her from the ropes that bound her. He was heavier than her, but she was strong. She dragged his lifeless form from the Land Rover and let his limp body collapse onto the snowy ground next to the overturned vehicle, spilling hot red across the frozen white.

  The others approached to feed, but she snapped her jaws at them in anger. This was her kill. She stood over her prey, panting breathlessly, daring them to take it from her.

  Adam came closer, stepping cautiously through the snow, but she sprang at him, snapping wildly, nipping his flesh and drawing blood. He leapt back sharply, whimpering in pain. She ran to him and made him cower in submission. Samuel too cowered down before her, acknowledging her as leader of the pack. They were both males, but while she lacked their size and strength, she made up for it with ferocity.

  She paced around them slowly until satisfied of their acquiescence. Then she returned to her prey, crouching down on all fours to enjoy her spoils. She tore at the flesh greedily, ripping and shearing it with her carnassials, chewing the meat, enjoying the sensation of blood dripping from her long tongue. Not many students got to eat their professor, not even in medical school. Human flesh tasted even better than she had imagined, and she had been imagining little else for many days now. She devoured the meat hungrily, chewing right down to the sweet marrow of the bone. When she had taken her fill, she moved aside to let the others have the remains.

  The wolves were ravenous and they wasted nothing. Soon all that remained of Wiseman were bones and memories.

  As they feasted, Leanna paced around the clearing’s edge, thinking through her next steps. The moon had swung far across the sky now, and dawn could not be far away. The change would come again then, this time in reverse, and they would need to be back inside the warmth of the cabin to survive in human form.

  In the days to come they would have their work cut out, disposing of what remained of the corpse and any other evidence. Then they could resume their studies in the laboratory. They would stay here for the remaining winter months, completing their work and making plans. The melting snows of spring would help wash away the last remains of the professor.

  When that was done, they could return to London. From there, the whole world would be theirs for the taking.

  But before that, another hour remained to enjoy the thrill of being a wolf. When Adam and Samuel had finished eating, Leanna dashed away into the forest, leaping breathlessly around the columns of trees, her paws pounding lightly across the powdery snow. The others followed in her wake. When she reached a rocky outcrop that rose above the snow, she leaped up its craggy face. The tall trees parted around the rock, revealing a circle of dark sky and shining moon above. The moon was setting now, but still bright in the pre-dawn darkness. Leanna had never seen such a beautiful sight.

  The moon had given her this gift. From now on, she would worship it in the only way a wolf could. She rose to her hind legs once more and howled. Behind her, and below her, the male wolves lent their deeper voices to her hymn.

  Chapter Seven

  Battlefield Road, South London, Halloween, ten months later

  It was impossible for James to tell how old the man was. He gathered the little kids close around him, well away from the man, and counted them again to make sure they were all still present. Amy, Bethany, Matthew and Henry. Four kids, check.

  Aged seventeen, James was the oldest. He was responsible for them.

  He wished the man had never opened the door to his home. He looked like a vagrant. His clothes were creased and stained and a size too big. His hair hung lank to his shoulders, unwashed and overgrown. He had clearly not shaved in a week. And he looked sick too – his skin unnaturally pale, his eyes reddened with a yellow sheen to them. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he stooped forward, his back hunched as if in pain.

  The man sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling like an animal. ‘What do you want?’ he barked unpleasantly.

  ‘Trick or treat!’ chorused the kids. They all wore Halloween costumes – Amy a witch, Bethany a fairy, Matthew a skeleton, and Henry some kind of super-hero. James had stuck with black jeans and a sweater.

  He willed the little kids to shut up. Couldn’t they see what he saw? This was not a man to play trick or treat with. This was a man to keep at a distance.

  ‘Trick or what?’ asked the man suspiciously, like he had never heard of it before.

  ‘It’s Halloween!’ shouted little Amy excitedly. ‘Trick or treat!’

  The man seemed to understand then. His thin mouth drew slowly into a smile, then a toothy grin. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Halloween. I forgot. Silly me. Come on inside.’ He stood aside for the children to enter into his grimy home.

  ‘No!’ James put out a hand to restrain the children, but Amy and Bethany had already darted inside.

  The man leered at James, revealing a row of stained and crooked teeth. ‘You’d better all come in.’

  It was a ground-floor apartment in a converted Victorian house. James followed the children reluctantly into the narrow hallway. The kids had already run through it into the kitchen at the end. Other doors led off the hallway, but they were closed.

  ‘That’s right,’ called the man from over his shoulder. ‘You go straight through to the kitchen. I’m right behind you.’ He shut the front door of the house, sliding a security chain into place.

  James could smell him now. He reeked of sweat and urine and God knows what. This was such a bad idea, but how could he get the kids out? Better just to endure it, then leave as quickly as possible.

  The kitchen was a pigsty. Mounds of unwashed plates and dishes filled the sink and covered the worktops all around. Partly-eaten meals putrefied in them, days or even weeks old, crawling with flies and maggots. James put his hand to his mouth to block the smell. Even the little kids looked apprehensive now.

  The man pushed James roughly into the small kitchen and followed him inside, closing the door behind him. There was barely enough room for them all to fit.

  ‘It smells in here!’ said Amy.

  ‘Now, now,’ said the man. ‘That’s no way to talk when someone has invited you into their home, is it, little lady?’

  The little girl shook her head.

  ‘Now what’s this trick or treat you were telling me about? It sounds like fun.’ The man winked at James.

  James looked around the kitchen. It was cramped, with a small window above the sink, some countertops with storage units above and below, an old gas cooker, and a fridge at the far end. A microwave sat on the counter, its door open, an uneaten ready-meal inside, covered in a fuzzy white film of decay. He moved his gaze along the kitchen countertop, scattered with food debris and other clutter. A column of ants busied themselves in removing some of the smaller crumbs. His attention fixed on a knife. The knife was about a foot long with a wooden handle and a serrated edge for cutting bread. James moved closer to it and leaned back against the soiled worktop. He could have the knife in his hands in a second if he needed it.

  Bethany was telling the man all about trick or treat.

  ‘Is that right?’ asked the man. ‘So either I give you a treat or you play a trick on me?’ He looked gravely at each of the children in turn, tugging at his wispy beard with thin fingers. ‘What kind of trick?’ he demanded.

  The children bunched together, shaking their heads, silent.

  ‘Stop it!’ said James. ‘You’re frightening them. Come on kids, let’s get out of here.’

  The man leaned back against the closed door. ‘Hey, no need to run. I was just fooling around. Sorry if I scared you. Let me give you a real treat to make up for it. How does that sound?’

  The children nodded, still silent, not taking their eyes from the man.

  He chuckled. ‘Let me see what I’ve got for you. I’m sure there must be something nice in one of my cupboards. You know, I haven’t been very well for a couple of weeks. I haven’t eaten a thing in days, so I’m sure there must be pl
enty of food left over. You won’t mind if it’s a little past its use-by date will you?’

  The children looked uncertain. They still said nothing. Not even six-year-old Amy, who normally never stopped talking.

  James reached for the handle of the knife behind his back, hoping the man wouldn’t notice. He tried to look casual. His fingers found a plate of something soft and disgusting, and withdrew by reflex. He reached again tentatively, exploring the discarded plates and dishes on the work surface behind him. His fingers found a cup and saucer, and then a spoon, sticky with some nameless ooze. A little further and he found it. His fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the knife.

  The man seemed oblivious to James’ movements. He was looking in the cupboards now, making a big show of it. ‘Nothing in this one,’ he announced. ‘Silly me. Oh, what’s in here? Half a packet of biscuits. Does anyone like chocolate biscuits? What about mints? You like mints?’ He rummaged in some low-level units near the sink. ‘I’ve got a sponge cake here somewhere, I think. It might be a bit stale.’

  While the man searched for leftover food, James quietly moved over to the kitchen door, clutching the knife in his hand behind his back. His hands felt sweaty despite the cold air in the kitchen. He tried turning the handle of the door. It squeaked as he turned it, but the door swung open into the hallway that led back to the front door. ‘Come on kids,’ he whispered. They started to leave the kitchen one at a time.

  The man turned around and frowned at James. His eyes glowed fiercely yellow under the dim light of the single naked bulb overhead. ‘You can’t go yet,’ said the man. ‘You haven’t had your treat.’ He stood up.

  He seemed taller than before, and stronger. He was standing straight, no longer hunched. He was a good few inches taller than James.