Hybrid

by Wild Wolf Publishing

  “Slowly over the years men forgot why they feared the night. They forgot the nature of the predators that stalked the long hours of darkness. Man turned to science, and the undead became no more than myth and legend to them. Only the Slayers remembered, and in the shadows the bitter struggle rages on, except now it is we who are on the verge of extinction, while the Slayers’ numbers continue to rise.”

  She fell silent and looked at me expectantly for the questions she knew I still had. There was a lot of information to take in from her tale, but the first thing my brain had excitedly latched onto was what she’d said about the werewolves learning to transform voluntarily.

  “So if those first werewolves could learn to transform at will, does that mean I have the power to transform whenever I want as well?” I asked her.

  “You do, but it is something you will also have to learn for yourself, as they did. I can help teach you but not now. However, the full moon will always hold power over you, and there are other things that can bring on the transformation as well. Strong emotions can induce it, for example, and things that call to the wolf’s mind, such as blood, so you will need to be careful.”

  “You keep mentioning the wolf’s mind, what does that mean?”

  “When the wolf was awoken in you it was not just the ability to change form you gained. You also have a wolf’s instincts, but the brain’s way of coping with this is to separate the two personalities of human and wolf. Your inner wolf is a part of you, yet separate, for the time being at least.”

  “Okay, and what did you mean about humans who are descended from apes being safe from turning into werewolves but not those ‘born of wolf’?”

  “Some humans evolved from wolves rather than apes, despite what science would have you believe. Only those with wolf blood in their veins can become werewolves, and it has to be a high enough percentage at that. Also, those who can become wolves do not always do so from one bite, though I do not know why. If it was as easy as biting everyone you want to turn into werewolves, your race would not be on the brink of extinction.”

  I considered that and thought over what other information had been in her tale. “You said something about me being hunted while I was turned. So that was the Demon Slayers?”

  “Yes, and they would have killed you had I not been there. We can only hope they do not know who you are and where you live, for if they do then all hope is lost.

  “As it is, I had thought your kind were already extinct, for it is years since I have heard the howling of your brethren beneath a full moon, years since I have seen you hunting in the great packs that once roamed the forests... I fear you may be the last werewolf and the one who turned you did it as a last desperate act; for there are few lupine descendants capable of becoming werewolves left now, the Slayers saw to that. A pity he perished on the same night he made you. You are either the last, or one of the last, of a dying race. Perhaps there are a few remnants of the great packs that still haunt sacred places, though even if there are I fear for you all...”

  “Well that’s comforting,” I said, but she didn’t seem to hear me, seemingly lost in thought. I wanted to ask more about werewolves and the Slayers, but I had no way of telling the time and I knew I couldn’t linger too long in the graveyard if I wanted to sneak back home before my parents could notice I was missing. So I settled for two final questions, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention again.

  “And the Greek gods, are they real too?” I asked, out of curiosity more than anything. “Was it really Zeus who created werewolves?”

  “I cannot say for certain whether any gods or deities truly exist, but I believe it was more likely to have been a witch who cursed Lycaon. There have been witches who wielded that kind of power over the centuries, though they too are in decline in this modern world.”

  I nodded and asked my second question, to confirm my suspicions about who this strange woman was. “And you’re a vampire bard or storyteller or something, then?”

  “Nothing so common,” she hissed. “A vampire yes, but royalty as a human.”

  I realised I should have known that from her title but before I could apologise she had already begun the tale of her own transformation into one of the undead.

  "It happened in 1356 on All Hallow’s Eve, which you now call Halloween. I was born into monarchy, a princess to one day rule as queen. I had just lit a jacko lantern and was preparing to go to my father's banquet when a window came open. A gust of wind blew out all the candles and as I went to shut the window, I noticed a full moon outside. I gazed at it for a minute, before sitting back down on my bed. Then I saw the shadow of someone behind me and I spun around, but he grabbed my mouth so I could not scream. His eyes were hypnotising and as soon as I stared into them I fell in love with him, becoming spell bound. He was so handsome, even when his canines grew longer. He gently turned my head to the side, baring my neck, and sunk his canines into my jugular vein, drinking every drop of blood in my body. And as I died in his arms he bit his finger and let one drop of his blood drip into me. I felt younger, stronger and fresher than I had felt for a long time.

  "There was a knock on the door and I fell to the ground as he made a quick exit out of the window. I never knew his name.

  "I then slept for a month as I was changed forever into some kind of monster, forced to walk the earth in darkness forever, drinking the blood of innocent people. At first life was easy as no one suspected anything was amiss. I was a princess, and nobody questioned why I had begun to sleep through the day and live through the night.

  “My first few victims were slaves in the castle, but I realised their deaths would not go unnoticed for my father would need to replace them, so I would feed on the peasants in nearby villages. I took my parent’s place on the throne and ruled over them for some time, until I was forced to fake my death to avoid suspicion.

  “After that I found ways to live as I had become accustomed to living among humans, not quite part of the mortal world but not completely isolated from it. Yet as technology became more advanced people were becoming suspicious, and the Slayers were ever adding to their ranks. I was driven into hiding, and now I must hide in such places as this graveyard and hide my victims. I don’t even have my own coffin.

  “But enough now, I must sleep as I did not feed tonight and I shall need all my strength for tomorrow when there will be more Slayers, always more of them and less of us... You should go home and rest as well."

  “Yeah okay, thanks for explaining stuff to me.”

  She didn’t reply, already lying back down on the coffin, so I left her to sleep in the mausoleum and made my way home as quick as I could, aware that the blood and dirt on my skin could lead to awkward questions. Fortunately, it was still too early to encounter anyone and I was able to climb back up to my bedroom window without being seen. I scrambled through and climbed into my bunk bed where I pretended to be asleep, knowing Mum would soon come in to get me up for school, my mind buzzing with all that had happened and all I had learned. But in spite of all the information Lady Sarah had given me, it would be some time yet before I fully understood the true nature of this curse. Perhaps deep down I already knew it was not merely the blood of animals staining my skin, with the reference to Lycaon’s own craving for human prey in the vampire’s tale. Or perhaps I really was too young and naïve to consider it could be anything else. Even if I suspected, it was a truth I did not want to face, so caught up in the excitement of my new powers as I was. So I returned home that morning with the innocence of my youth, such as it was, still in tact, while in an unmarked grave the body of the woman I had killed lay forgotten: she who was but the first of many in the months to follow.

  Chapter Four

  Back to School

  I had returned just in time, for no sooner had I climbed into bed than the door opened and my Mum called out "Come on! It's time for school, you'll be late!"

  The thought of going back to school wasn’t a happy one but I had little ch
oice, so I climbed down from my bunk bed to shower and get dressed, pausing to wait for my parents and sister to go downstairs. I couldn’t let them see me in my current state. How could I explain to them why I was covered in blood and dirt? Despite the clothes Lady Sarah had given me, it was still visible on my bare arms, feet, hands, and my face. There was no sane explanation. If I told them I was a werewolf I was looking at a one way trip to a padded cell, restrained in a straitjacket for all eternity. It wasn’t exactly what I planned to do with my newfound immortality. For immortal I had to assume I now was, from what the vampire had said about Lycaon.

  I’d had time to mull over what Lady Sarah had told me, and it seemed being a werewolf had both its advantages and disadvantages. It was hard to see why it was called a curse if I’d only killed animals, which seemed no worse than buying meat from the supermarket. Since I was already a carnivore it didn’t seem to make any difference who took the animal’s life. As long as it was only animals I could live with that, and despite the part of the tale about Lycaon’s craving for human prey more than any other, I had experienced no such feeling. The hunger was there again and I did crave meat, but it was just a feeling of being famished as if I’d not eaten in days, not a hunger for human flesh specifically. And meat had always been my favourite food, particularly beef, so that didn’t seem strange to me. The craving for meat might partly belong to my newly awoken lupine nature as well, but there still didn’t seem to be anything to suggest my tastes had changed.

  Not aging was going to be hard to explain to my parents 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. Maybe Lady Sarah would know someone who had the power to make me age a few years, 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. It was something else Lady Sarah had alluded to in her tale, and I’d already noticed the difference for myself; I could clearly hear everything that was going on in the world outside, even hear snatches of conversation from neighbouring houses, but unused to my new powers at that time it was just a confusion of sound.

  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 sound, but I could pick out a trail left by one of Amy’s friends who had come over 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, I couldn’t be sure. With the enhanced hearing and smell, it made everything strange and I knew it would be a while before I became accustomed to the changes. It was like I’d woken up and found myself on a different planet, everything alien and unnatural.

  As for the wolf’s mind, I could feel it somewhere within my subconscious, watching warily from the dark place it hid in, watching and waiting. And learning. I got the impression it was trying to learn more about humans from me. It was strange, I could feel both 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 in the world of humans, if I could just learn to control the lupine side of me. I wanted the best of both worlds.

  Still musing, I hurried into the bathroom when I was sure my family were out of the way downstairs, helping themselves to breakfast. I spent longer than usual brushing my teeth as they were still stained with blood, as was my body, and there was dried blood under my fingernails. Showering 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 I’d only been vaguely aware of, unpleasant to my human self.

  While I was getting ready for the day, I couldn't help running through in my mind all I could remember of the previous two nights, and contemplating how much my life had changed in such little time, though for better or worse I didn't know. As I had already decided for myself, it seemed there were advantages to my being a werewolf. But with the threat of the Demon Slayers not only my life, but the lives of my family, could be at risk if they ever found out who I was. I was going to have to be careful, something that reckless side to my teenage self would have trouble adjusting to.

  The reference to a werewolf’s greater healing abilities seemed to also be true. I was somewhat pissed off to find my toenail had grown back; I noticed it when I was showering. 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.

  After I’d cleansed myself of the blood and dirt, I returned to my room only to notice the torn clothes I’d been wearing the night before. 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 the shirts I wore and he never did the washing, but Mum would most likely realise I was a pair of jeans down. And she probably would notice the absence of one of my gothic shirts. I’d have to think up an excuse later, as long as she didn’t see that they’d been ripped apart which would be even harder to explain. 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 somewhere out of sight of prying eyes, but it was downstairs in the study. In the end the best I could think of was to hide them under my bed for the time being and hope Mum didn’t go under there for anything before I had chance to dispose of them.

  I also placed the ornaments that had been knocked off back in their places on the windowsill, thinking at least they hadn’t been broken. My room needed a good clean as usual (which was my own fault for being too lazy to keep it clean and tidy) and it was easy to see where each one went from the circles in the dust.

  My glasses presented more of a problem. I couldn’t have carried on wearing them even if I still needed them to see, as they were too cracked to do any good and the frame was also damaged from being stood on. It was too much to hope no one would notice the fact I wasn’t wearing them. As I dressed and ran downstairs I desperately tried to think of a believable story to explain the sudden absence of them, but whilst I was usually good at that sort of thing, this was one situation where my mind was frustratingly blank.

  I jumped the last two steps and landed as I always had done since an early age, cat-like at the bottom, crouched with my knees bent beneath me, back arched, one hand out to steady myself, the other resting on my knee, my long fingers bent into imaginary claws. And similarly, going up the stairs I had a tendency to either run up on all fours, or crawl at a leisurely pace, imagining I was something more powerful than a human. I think these habits started as something I imagined a werewolf would
do, when I used to think behaving in ways I thought a werewolf should behave was as close as I’d ever get to living my fantasies. How wrong I’d been.

  It was strange, but I felt more alive than I had in years, more alive even than after the film on the night I’d been bitten, as if the blood that had drained from my kill and stained my body had somehow added to my life force, the life draining out with that blood somehow transferring into my own bloodstream, giving me more energy, more life. I found that ironic, since I was now classed as one of the undead.

  I walked into the kitchen in high spirits, stomach gurgling and still craving flesh. 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 I could smell the enticing aroma of the beef joint. My mouth watered and without thinking, I practically dived at the raw meat, snatching my prize while my family watched, open mouthed with surprise. I was about to rip off the plastic skin when Mum recovered enough to ask me what I was doing. I looked at her, then I looked back at the meat in my hands. I’d reacted purely on instinct. If aspects of the lupine side of my personality were going to creep in to my everyday life I would have to be even more cautious than I’d first thought. And it was unmistakeably part of the wolfish side to me that had reacted, since I’d never even considered eating raw meat before. Perhaps my tastes had changed slightly, but I still wasn’t worried. It seemed I would enjoy my steak a little bloodier than before I’d been turned, nothing more.

  I laughed, making it out to be a joke, and carefully placed the beef back in the fridge, trying to ignore the craving. Amy rolled her eyes and gave me a look that clearly said she was ashamed to be my sister. Mum shook her head too and Dad looked like he was going to shout but in the end he, too, shook his head and turned away in disgust.