The Wereling 1: Wounded

by Stephen Cole

  ‘Sure, Tom.’ Wesley’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘And guess what, there really is a Santa Claus.’ He laughed. ‘Full moon’s a big draw, true. But if you’re sharp you can bring on the change whenever.’

  Tom tried to shake his throbbing head like he didn’t believe it. ‘You really believe this crap, don’t you?’

  Wesley ignored him. ‘We mostly bite to kill. For the buzz, you know? Mom had her eye on you from the minute she saw you in the woods, playing happy campers with your folks. But Dad didn’t trust her not to eat you all up instead of just giving you the bite.’

  Tom screwed up his eyes. This isn’t real, isn’t real.

  ‘But you put up a fight. A regular silverblood.’

  ‘Silverblood?’ Tom echoed.

  ‘You wouldn’t turn. Wouldn’t give in to the infection. Your body kept resisting. We had to work you over with Mom’s potions and shit, keep you here till the moon was full again. And now … ’ Wesley smirked again. ‘Gotcha.’

  Tom took a step back. ‘You’ve lost it, Wesley,’ he said, wishing he could really believe it. ‘You’ve lost it, big time.’

  Wesley shook his head. ‘Uh uh … You’ve lost half your human side,’ he said softly, grey eyes gleaming. ‘You’re lupine now. Half wolf.’

  ‘No. This isn’t real.’ Tom stared around wildly, half-hoping for hidden cameras to come into the open, for some smart-ass TV host to appear from nowhere and have a good laugh at his expense. ‘This is bullshit, all of it.’

  ‘No,’ snapped Wesley. He wasn’t laughing now as he threw himself at Tom, grabbed hold of his neck and tried to wrestle him to the floorboards. ‘No, you’re the one full of bullshit. What’s your problem? We don’t make a habit of bestowing a wolf side on soft meat like you – it’s an honour!’

  Tom tried to fight him off. ‘Screw you and your sick stupid honour.’

  But Wesley pinned Tom’s arms behind his head with one hand, kept his grip on Tom’s neck with the other and leaned in close. ‘Wave bye-bye to your old life, Tommy. You’ve lost a family but gained a pack.’ He sniggered. ‘See, Mom’s decided you’re “the one” for Kate. That little snack party earlier this evening?’ Wesley squeezed Tom by the throat. ‘That was matchmaking.’

  ‘What? But why?’ Tom gasped, lying still, conserving his strength.

  ‘Kate’s pureblood female.’ Wesley shrugged, like this explained everything. ‘She won’t turn ’wolf till she mates with a ’wolf. And for the sake of the Folan family name, Mom wants her to be one of us – very badly.’

  Tom bucked his body like a thousand volts had been put through him. Twisting as he did so, he managed to throw Wesley clear. Then he got to his feet and backed away towards the kitchen. ‘I’m having no part in this,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘No way out, Tommy-boy,’ sneered Wesley, raising himself. ‘You’ve been chosen. Hell, even Kate’s said yes. To save you winding up like poor sweet Mark.’

  Tom rubbed his bruised neck. ‘You killed him?’

  ‘Mom did.’ Wesley grinned. ‘He was a real spurter.’

  ‘Murderers,’ Tom breathed.

  ‘You’ll understand. When the change comes.’

  ‘It’s never going to come.’ But Tom’s fingers rasped against inflamed skin near his jawbone.

  The bite mark. It itched now like someone had sewn up a live moth inside it.

  ‘Come on, Tom.’ Wesley tried to sound reasonable. ‘You’ve thrown your fit. Now let’s quit fooling around, and start to party.’

  Tom turned to the window and felt the moonlight on his skin. It wasn’t burning him now. It was soothing him. Taking away the confusion, the questions, even the pain. All he felt now was his loss and his anger, cold and clear as the dead reflected light from the moon’s barren surface.

  ‘Face it, Tom,’ Wes whispered. ‘You’re in this for keeps. Kate’s gonna marry you, so Mom can have some nice respectable ’wolf grandkids to keep up our nice respectable family line. She needs them, see? The time’s coming when werewolves won’t need to hide in the shadows.’

  Tom stared in horror. ‘There are more of you?’

  ‘Thousands of us,’ smiled Wesley. ‘All over the world. When Wolf Time comes it’ll be humans hiding out in the dark, not us. That’s when the Old Names are gonna count, see? When it comes to thrashing out the biting order in our new world.’ Saliva frothed at the corners of Wesley’s mouth. ‘You’re damned lucky I bit you, Tom. Now you’ve got a big stake in this family. Come Wolf Time, you and me are gonna lord it over the rest.’

  ‘You did this to me,’ Tom whispered.

  ‘What are friends for?’ Wesley smiled smugly. ‘Now how about we go on the hunt, huh?’

  Tom stared down at his feet. He could feel his heart start to pound. ‘Hunt?’

  ‘Sure. We’re supposed to stay in, but screw that. Mom and Dad are out on the hunt, they’ll be gone till dawn. So what say we—’

  Tom lashed out. His fist smashed into Wesley’s jaw, sending him sprawling over the kitchen table.

  ‘So you wanna play it this way, huh?’ Wesley growled.

  ‘Turn me back.’

  ‘No can do.’ Wesley wiped blood from his mouth and sucked it back off his knuckles. ‘And even if I could, why the hell— ’

  ‘Turn me back!’ Tom yelled. He hefted a vase from the fireplace and threw it at Wesley’s head.

  Wesley threw himself aside and the vase shattered on the floorboards beside him. ‘It’s started,’ he said in a hushed voice. He looked at Tom almost reverently, like he was seeing a baby take its first steps. ‘Man, I envy you, feeling all that shit for the first time.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Tom shouted. His breathing was getting ragged, his clothes were drenched with sweat.

  Wesley was nodding, totally focused, like he was suddenly Tom’s personal trainer or something. ‘That’s it. Keep your anger, that helps push it on.’ He paused, smiling craftily. ‘Y’ know, just to make things final, maybe we should go kill your family.’

  Tom felt like he was burning. ‘I’m warning you … ’

  ‘Yeah, it’d be real easy,’ Wesley smirked. ‘Once we offed your parents, we could, like, string up your brother and take turns to bite chunks outta him.’

  As Wesley laughed, Tom rushed for him wildly. But Wesley sidestepped him and punched him in the stomach. Tom doubled over, winded, then gasped as Wesley twisted his arm behind his back.

  The moon burned like a spotlight through the window. It seemed to shine on Tom as Wesley threw him across the room, lighting every move.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Wesley cooed. He kicked Tom in the head. ‘Gonna cry, were-pussy? Come on! I wanna see it happen!’ Wesley kicked him again.

  Tom’s body smashed against the display case, and its glass front cracked in two under the impact. Tom saw duplicate moons reflected there, white eyes staring him out. He tried to speak, but only guttural grunts came. His body twisted in pain. He couldn’t breathe. Vivid colours broke across his vision.

  ‘Come on!’ screamed Wesley. He sounded desperate, like he was the one running out of time.

  Tom felt like every bone in his body was starting to crack and splinter, like some invisible vice was crushing them from the inside.

  Then something broke inside his head, and the pain fell away, replaced with a warm, reckless ecstasy. A part of him knew instinctively that it was wrong to feel this way. That feeling so good could only come with some terrible price attached.

  It was like all his life he’d been peering out at the world through dirty glass, and only now could he see it clearly – be fully a part of it. Sounds and scents sharpened and spun dizzily through his senses. Every nerve in his body seemed to buzz with a life of its own. He heard a strange sound, half-laughing, half-roaring. Then realised he was making the noise himself.

  Wesley had fallen away. Tom rose to his knees, and saw his opponent slumped in a corner, shaking like he was having some kind of fit. Tom tried to rise further from the floor to see more, but his
body didn’t want to turn that way.

  It wanted to stay on all fours.

  Tom stared as the hideous creature, half-man, half-wolf, kicked itself free from the remains of Wesley’s clothing. And then some dwindling, terrified part of Tom truly took the situation in.

  ‘You think you’re all wolf people or something,’ he had said. At the time he’d believed the Folans deluded. But not now. The werewolf staring him down from across the room, yellow eyes flaring with malice, sinewy body tensed to attack, was no mythical beast.

  Wesley Folan was a werewolf.

  And Tom was one too.

  The old Tom Anderson was dead, washed away by the rapids all those weeks ago, to some lonely burial far out at sea. A new creature that wore his skin had crept in to replace him; something from the dark pits of a nightmare, a bestial force of hideous strength.

  The two of them would run like the wind together. They would hunt and they would kill, side by side, like his dreams had been trying to tell him these last weeks. That was the way it was meant to be …

  Screw that.

  Anger surging through him, jaws snapping, Tom threw himself towards the slavering creature that had once been a boy like him.

  g

  g

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kate crouched, petrified, at the top of the stairs. She’d waited in her room after taking her fake shower, waiting for Tom to come looking for answers. She hadn’t banked on Wesley confronting him first.

  So she’d stayed out of sight, eavesdropping on the pair of them, willing Wesley away so she could get to Tom, try to help him out of here.

  These last weeks she’d hoped against hope that her father would make her mother see sense. After all, Tom was a silverblood – hard to turn. A natural resister. Anyone sane would’ve just given up on him and set him free.

  But her mom wasn’t sane, not any longer. What she’d done to Mark, and what she’d been doing to Tom this last month had made Kate certain of that – just as she was certain now, looking at the nightmare creatures biting and snapping at each other in the room below, that she would rather die than go along with her mother’s wishes. The wolf that slept deep inside her must stay sleeping forever. She would never submit to its rule.

  Tom’s wolf had now fully taken him over. Kate had wanted to save his life, convinced herself she could play along. And so she’d done nothing to save him from becoming a monster.

  She watched him wriggle free of the last of his clothes. His loose-limbed, rangy frame had become that of a sleek, deep-chested, wolf-creature, covered in smooth, dark lustrous fur. He was awesome. Terrifying. In his now-lupine face, brutish and feral jaws opened wide as a mantrap. Kate shuddered as Tom roared, his dark lips shrinking back to show off rows of dagger-sharp ivory teeth.

  As she inched unnoticed down the stairs, Kate caught a glimpse of Tom’s eyes. She gasped. They hadn’t turned a sickly luminous yellow like Wesley’s always did. Or a greenish gold like Marcie’s. They had retained their deep brown, almost black colour.

  Still Tom’s own. Still human. Kate had never seen a lupine with human eyes before. What did it mean?

  The two creatures circled each other slowly. Wesley, more used to his ’wolf-form, kept rearing up on his hind legs, trying to intimidate Tom. Kate watched the muscles ripple across Tom’s flank as he leaped at Wesley, snarling with rage. But her brother was too quick; he darted aside. Tom crashed down into a table, splintering it like matchwood. While he was recovering, Wesley came up behind him and sank his jaws into Tom’s back. His howl of agony as he tore himself free went right through Kate.

  She’d assumed they were only play-fighting, fooling around; that Tom was enjoying his new-found power just as Wesley had prophesied. That any moment they’d break it up, piss up the wall to mark their territory and then chase down some mule deer in the forests outside.

  But there was familiar bloodlust in Wesley’s eyes.

  Tom’s ’wolf-form looked to be more powerful, but he was hesitant, unsure of what his new body could do. And, Kate could tell, Tom lacked the resolve to kill an opponent.

  If Wesley didn’t back down, the fight wouldn’t go on much longer.

  And wasn’t that what she wanted? If Tom were to die, Kate’s problems would be over for now. It would be Wesley’s fault, not hers. And with campers in the area more vigilant since Tom’s disappearance, suitable candidates would be less easy for Marcie to find. Maybe Dad would even convince her to give up, to let Kate move away and have a normal life …

  Kate sighed, closing her eyes. She believed in werewolves because she had to. She didn’t believe in any other fairy stories.

  As the sounds of battle raged on, Kate knew she had to do something.

  Maybe it was time to believe in herself.

  Tom’s senses raced at dizzying speed. He felt immensely strong and yet weak as a kitten. It was a bit like going from a bicycle to driving a racing car – he had all this speed and power but he lacked the experience to handle it. Just finding himself behind the wheel was awesome. And while his mind kept taking time out to marvel at the thrill and the fear of having so much bestial muscle at his command, Wesley was well used to his wolf-form. And in the heat of their fighting, all that bull about the two of them being brothers seemed shot to hell.

  Wesley was out for the kill.

  He closed in on Tom once again, claws swiping at Tom’s throat. Tom retreated, backed up against the granite fireplace, feeling the heat of the dying fire on his hind legs. As Wesley lunged for him again, Tom dodged aside. Wesley’s huge paws sizzled as they struck the red-hot coals, and he howled with rage. The stink of burned hair and flesh caught in Tom’s nostrils. He bared his teeth. He should attack now, tear flesh and snap bone, before Wesley could hurt him again.

  No. No, that would hurt him worse than anything Wesley could do. Tom turned away, confused and frightened. He glanced at the pile of clothes he’d been wearing, now lying ripped and empty, as if the boy inside had melted away.

  Wesley reared up and smashed into his flank, pressing him down, teeth tearing at his face. Tom tried to roll free but he was trapped, pressed down hard against the floor. He closed his eyes, hoped that when death came for him it would be quick.

  He heard something heavy scythe the air, and the sickening impact of metal on bone.

  Tom opened his eyes to find Kate backing away, brandishing a metal poker grabbed from the fireplace. Wesley was still holding him down, but his jaws had sagged dumbly open. Blood was pouring from an ugly gash in his skull.

  With a low menacing growl Wesley turned from Tom to face his sister. She brandished the poker again, warningly, but Tom could see the fear on her face. Kate knew as well as he did that Wesley would never give her a chance to use it again.

  Wesley pounced at her. Kate shrieked. She went down under his weight, all but vanishing beneath him.

  Without thinking, Tom reared forward and seized Wesley by the neck, trying to drag him away, to give Kate a chance to run. Wesley twisted furiously in his grip, and Tom felt the hot tang of blood in his jaws as they broke skin. Rolling over, Wesley tried to break free. He took Tom with him, throwing him bodily through the air.

  As Tom hit the ground, the impact jarred through his body. His grip on Wesley’s throat tightened involuntarily. With a wet crunching sound, Wesley’s windpipe was crushed between Tom’s teeth like a drinking straw.

  Tom pushed himself free and backed away.

  Blood was frothing from Wesley’s sagging jaws as he clawed at his spurting throat. Kate was staring at him. She looked frightened, bewildered.

  Horrified.

  Unable to watch any longer, Tom slunk off to a corner of the living room. He lay down and curled his body into himself for comfort. Across the room, it sounded like Wes was snoring, just asleep. Gradually, the noise died away to a gentle rattle of breath. Then all he could hear was Kate’s quiet sobs.

  He couldn’t tell how long the calm lasted. Spots of colour started to speckle his vision.
His limbs cramped up and his body shook. It felt like he was being suffocated, smothered, like the power was draining away, leaving him weak and defenceless.

  Human again. Naked and bloody on a cold, wooden floor.

  Tom blinked, trying to clear his vision. He held up his hands, staring at the pink, hairless skin, flexing his wrists. Focusing past them he saw Kate standing over him with a bundle of clothes and towels in her arms. Her face was unreadable as she dumped them on his chest.

  ‘Clean yourself up and get dressed,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I changed back,’ Tom breathed. A tear escaped the corner of his eye. ‘Jesus, thank God, I changed back.’

  Kate began to fill an empty rucksack with clothing.

  ‘You’re leaving,’ Tom said dully. ‘Running away.’

  ‘We both are. Together. Tonight.’ Kate gestured at Wesley’s body, twisted and prone beside the fireplace. ‘Or would you rather wait for my parents to get back so you can explain that to them?’

  Tom stared at Wesley. ‘Is he … ?’

  ‘Dead?’ Kate nodded. ‘Very.’

  ‘I killed him,’ Tom whispered. ‘I’m a murderer.’

  ‘You didn’t mean to kill him,’ Kate muttered, not looking up from her rucksack. ‘Anyway, it was self-defence.’

  ‘He’s dead because of me,’ Tom said quietly.

  ‘And I’m alive because of you,’ Kate snapped back.

  Tom buried his face in his hands. ‘You should’ve let him kill me—’

  Kate looked up at him, green eyes flashing with anger. ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for you to wallow in despair right now, OK?’ she cut in. Then she pulled out a handful of wallets stuffed with cash from the zip flap of her rucksack. ‘Look – look at these! Wes took these from his victims. He was like my mother, out of control. He killed whenever he got the chance. These were his trophies.’ She zipped the wallets back inside the rucksack. ‘The world’s well rid of him.’