Lycanthropic (Book 2): Wolf Moon (The Rise of the Werewolves)

by Morris, Steve

  ‘You just don’t have the numbers, or the capability,’ said Adam. ‘Listen, the spread of the disease is a mathematical certainty. We don’t need to do anything stupid and reckless.’

  ‘So we do nothing?’ growled Warg Daddy.

  ‘We let the condition spread naturally. Lycanthropy is like any communicable disease – once it reaches a critical point, it spreads through the population exponentially. No one can do anything to stop it. We’re probably already past the tipping point already.’

  ‘No,’ said Leanna. ‘The tipping point is some way off. The balance of power still lies with the humans. And now that the authorities finally understand the threat we pose, we are at our most vulnerable. This is the moment of greatest risk.’

  ‘Right,’ agreed Warg Daddy, thumping the table with his fist. ‘We need to attack, now.’

  ‘No,’ said Adam in frustration. ‘The police and the army already have their hands full dealing with the vigilantes and rioters. People are taking to the streets, demanding that the government does more to stop the violence. More vigilantes will come out tonight, and looters and gangs too. The authorities will crack down hard. We just need to lie low for a while and let them do our work for us.’

  Leanna nodded. ‘You think that civilization will begin to crumble by itself?’

  ‘The cracks are already showing. Let’s see how wide they grow.’

  Warg Daddy rubbed his head. ‘I think …’

  Leanna cut him off abruptly. ‘Don’t think.’ She smiled at him then, to soften the blow. White teeth between red lips. ‘Leave the thinking to others.’

  Snakebite had been listening in silence. Now he said, ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand.’

  ‘Not now, Snake,’ said Warg Daddy. ‘I’ll explain it to you later.’

  Leanna ignored Warg Daddy’s comment. ‘What is it you’d like to know?’ she asked Snakebite.

  The big man leaned forward, spreading his huge hands over the marble table. ‘What causes the condition to spread? Why has it never happened before?’

  ‘Don’t ask stupid questions,’ grumbled Warg Daddy. ‘That’s obvious.’

  Leanna smiled sweetly at him. ‘Perhaps you’d like to explain it then, Warg Daddy?’

  He flashed an irritable look in her direction. ‘It’s like any disease, isn’t it? Like the Black Death. It just comes from nowhere and infects everyone.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Snakebite. ‘But why? Why does that happen? Why now, and not before?’

  Adam stared at the red-bearded man opposite him. It was a very good question. Simple, yet profound at the same time. And Warg Daddy clearly had no idea how epidemics worked. ‘It’s like this,’ said Adam, finding himself eager to explain, despite his earlier misgivings about Snakebite. ‘To become an epidemic, a disease has to spread easily from one person to another. Lycanthropy doesn’t spread very easily at all, compared with diseases like smallpox or malaria. The genetic mutations that cause lycanthropy are carried by a virus. And that virus can only be passed on via a bite or a scratch or a blood transfusion. It can’t spread through casual contact, so it’s not highly contagious. That’s why it’s hard for a lone werewolf living in an isolated community to spread the disease without being discovered and killed. So historically all outbreaks of lycanthropy have been very limited. That’s why people speak of it as a legend, rather than a known disease.’

  Snakebite nodded in understanding. ‘But in a big city like London …’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Adam. ‘In an urban setting where the population density is high and carriers of the condition can attack victims without being discovered, the condition can begin to spread. That’s what’s happening now, and it’s why no one can stop it.’

  ‘What about a cure?’ asked Snakebite. ‘Or a vaccine?’

  ‘No vaccine or cure exists,’ said Adam. ‘The condition is so different from any previously known disease it will be impossible to find any effective medical intervention in a useful timeframe.’

  Snakebite nodded. ‘I get it now.’

  Warg Daddy rubbed his bald head with his thumb. This discussion seemed to be making his head hurt. ‘So what do we do?’ he asked.

  Leanna gave Snakebite an encouraging smile. ‘I invited you to this meeting to hear your opinion,’ she said.

  Snakebite stroked his fiery beard thoughtfully. ‘One day we will need to fight, like Warg Daddy says. But not yet.’ He looked at Adam. ‘But if we do nothing, the disease may not spread fast enough. There’s a tipping point when the disease can no longer be stopped, but we haven’t reached it yet. And so we need to spread the disease, spread it as widely and as quickly as we can.’

  Warg Daddy regarded Snakebite with a puzzled frown on his face. ‘How do we do that?’ he asked.

  Leanna twitched the corners of her mouth into a smile. Two rows of sharp white teeth poked between blood red lips. ‘The fun way,’ she said. Her blue eyes remained as cold as ice.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Upper Terrace, Richmond upon Thames, West London, waning moon

  Melanie lay in her bed, resting on her right side. Since the madman with the cricket bat had hit her and tied her up, she had grown very used to spending her days lying in bed. At least now she was back in her own bed and was no longer tied to it. Her left side was still too sore to put any weight on it however. She breathed shallowly, trying not to move her head. If she turned it more than a fraction, the pain struck her again like a bolt of lightning.

  She had slept fitfully since getting home. Sarah had given her painkillers but they only partially numbed the pain. Pale January light leaked through a gap between the curtains, and the light made her head throb. She was too weak to get out of bed and draw them closed. Even lying still doing nothing was a struggle. The pain was almost too great to master, but after a while she developed an uneasy truce. She could endure the pain, as long as she didn’t try to open her eyes. The pain and the sunlight together were a force too strong for her.

  She heard footsteps coming up the wooden stairs and tiptoeing across the landing. Someone stood outside her door. Sarah probably, come to feed her, or tend to her again. Melanie loved her sister dearly, but she hated being dependent on her. She would send Sarah away rather than admit to being helpless. She waited silently, hoping that her sister would go.

  A sudden knocking on the bedroom door sounded like thunder and set her head throbbing more than ever. ‘Go away,’ she said, not opening her eyes. ‘I don’t need anything.’ The knocking came again, loud and insistent. Melanie said nothing. Talking hurt too much.

  The door handle turned squeakily and she felt air move as the door opened. ‘Leave me alone, Sarah. I need to rest,’ she said, her eyes still closed.

  ‘It’s not Sarah,’ said a voice. ‘It’s me.’

  James. What was he doing here? ‘Go away,’ said Melanie. ‘I’m too tired to talk.’

  She heard the door close again, but James hadn’t left. The floorboards creaked as he came closer to her bed. ‘You’re hurt,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

  ‘No, I mean, you’re injured. You’re still bleeding.’

  She touched her hand to her left side, where blood still trickled from her skin if she shifted suddenly. ‘I’m okay. I’m healing. I just need rest.’

  James came closer until his presence blocked out the light from the window. ‘I can smell the blood,’ he said. ‘I could smell it from downstairs.’

  Melanie opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. ‘That’s a useful talent. Everyone should keep a tame werewolf around the home, don’t you think?’

  James looked hurt. ‘I only want to help,’ he said. ‘Shall I ask Sarah to come and change the dressing?’

  ‘No,’ said Melanie. ‘I can’t stand her fussing. She just wants to help me too. I hate it.’

  ‘She cares for you,’ said James. ‘She’s your sister.’

  ‘My wonderful selfless sister, always helping others. So much
nicer than selfish me, don’t you think?’

  James sat down in a chair at her bedside. ‘No, I don’t think that. Why would you think it?’

  ‘Because it’s what everybody always says,’ said Melanie. ‘We’re twins, so everyone’s always comparing us. I was always the pretty one, going out and having fun. So Sarah had to be the serious one, staying in and helping others. Don’t think I didn’t know what they said behind my back.’

  ‘What?’ said James.

  ‘That I’m a selfish bitch.’

  ‘Did you hear them say that?’ asked James.

  ‘I didn’t need to. I know it’s true.’

  ‘You can’t just hide away up here forever,’ said James.

  ‘Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do in my own house,’ she snapped. ‘You’re a guest here, remember.’ She could tell by his expression that she had stung him with her words, and that had never been her intention. The words just came out wrong sometimes. She softened her voice. ‘Look at my face,’ she said, holding her bruised and damaged skin up for inspection. ‘How can I go out like this? Who would want to look at me now?’

  ‘Beauty isn’t just skin deep.’

  ‘Mine is,’ said Melanie stubbornly.

  ‘There’s beauty inside too. It’s inside everyone.’

  ‘No, only people like my sister have beauty on the inside. My inside is horrible and selfish. No one wants to see it. Not even me. Besides, how can I just go back to my old way of life? Look what’s happening out there. The world is ending. How many men would want to go on a date with me when the world is ending?’

  ‘Most of them, I imagine. But that isn’t the point. You don’t have to go back to your old way of life. You’re free to do whatever you want. It’s me who’s the real outcast,’ continued James. ‘I can’t ever go home, or even show my face outside. I’m a murderer. A monster. A beast. I even betrayed my own kind, so I can’t go back to the other werewolves. Not that I’d want to. They were all horrible. Apart from Samuel, you’re the only person who’s ever accepted me for what I am.’

  ‘And Sarah too. Never forget about good old Sarah.’

  ‘She doesn’t know I’m a werewolf.’

  ‘Don’t tell her. She’s scared enough of you already.’

  ‘I know. I’m trying to keep out of her way.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. Let’s all keep out of each other’s way. We’re all broken people in this house. A selfish bitch, a woman who’s terrified of strangers, a grieving werewolf, and an old man who can barely remember his own name. I would laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.’

  James ignored her. ‘You don’t have to stay broken,’ he said. ‘You made me a promise.’

  ‘A promise?’

  ‘When I rescued you from that madman, you promised to become a better person, to put other people first.’

  Melanie scowled at him for reminding her. ‘You tricked me into making that promise. I thought it was a dream. I thought I was talking to my own conscience.’

  ‘I didn’t trick you. You fooled yourself.’

  ‘I’d have said anything to stop a wolf from killing me.’

  James seemed hurt by the reminder that he had nearly killed her. ‘It was more than that,’ he insisted. ‘You meant something. And a promise is a promise.’

  ‘Words mean nothing,’ said Melanie. ‘They’re just hot air. Anyone can say them.’ But she was fooling herself again now. She had meant her promise, and they both knew it.

  James said nothing, but got up from the chair, letting the light from the window fall on her face again.

  She closed her eyes to block out the pain.

  James walked quietly to the bedroom door and opened it. Before the door closed, she heard him say, ‘You can change. You must. For your own sake. For all our sakes.’

  Chapter Thirty

  West Field Gardens, South London, waning moon

  ‘Do you like this dress best, or the other one?’ asked Aasha.

  ‘This one,’ said Drake. He lounged back on Aasha’s bed, his aching shoulder supported by pillows, enjoying the smell of her perfume, admiring the amount of smooth coffee-coloured skin her dress revealed. Drake’s knowledge of women’s fashion was close to zero, but that didn’t stop him having a strong opinion about which dress she should wear. The rule was simple. The more flesh on display, the better. He didn’t understand why girls had to think so hard about it.

  Aasha admired her looks in the mirror. She turned one way, then the other, then back again, flicking her glossy black hair over her bare shoulders. She seemed to enjoy looking at her body just as much as Drake did. ‘Why do you prefer this dress?’ she asked.

  There was a trap in the question, Drake could sense it. ‘It makes you look beautiful,’ he said.

  ‘And the other one doesn’t?’ she asked mischievously.

  ‘This one makes you look even more beautiful.’

  Aasha laughed. ‘You just like the way it shows off my cleavage.’

  ‘Yeah,’ admitted Drake. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘You’re a bad boy,’ teased Aasha. ‘And I’m a nice Sikh girl from a good family. I shouldn’t allow you into my bedroom. I’m afraid of what you might do to me.’

  ‘What would you like me to do?’

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ said Aasha, coming closer to the bed. She leaned over him, letting him see even more of her body. ‘I want you to take me out tonight.’

  ‘What?’ said Drake. That hadn’t been what he’d expected, but since he’d started to spend time in Aasha’s company he was learning to expect the unexpected.

  ‘I hate being cooped up in this house. I want to wear this dress somewhere fun. I want to go out and have a good time, not hang around here.’

  ‘I can show you a good time right here,’ said Drake, reaching out to touch her.

  Aasha slapped his hand away.

  ‘Ouch,’ cried Drake. Her slap had actually hurt him. ‘Mind my bad arm.’

  Aasha ignored his complaint. ‘It’s time we had a night out. Just you and me.’

  ‘You know what your mum said,’ said Drake warily. ‘You’re grounded. No way is she going to let you come out with me.’

  ‘I thought you were a bad boy,’ said Aasha. ‘Not a goody-goody like my little brother.’

  ‘I am,’ said Drake.

  ‘Well then,’ said Aasha, as if that settled things. ‘I’ll sneak out without my mum knowing. Vijay can cover for me if she asks. She always believes everything he says.’

  ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Somewhere I can wear this dress.’ She walked over to her dressing table and opened a box. Her slender fingers drew out a pair of gold earrings, and she put them on. ‘Do these go with the dress?’

  Drake shrugged. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said. ‘They’re nice.’

  ‘They aren’t really,’ said Aasha. ‘They’re just cheap junk. A real boyfriend would buy his girlfriend nice stuff. Expensive stuff.’

  Drake sighed. ‘You know I ain’t got much money.’

  ‘Not much of a boyfriend then, are you? A real boyfriend would get some money. From somewhere.’

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘From wherever he could grab it.’

  Drake turned away from her in dismay. Being with Aasha was the most exciting experience of his life, but she was always pushing him, pushing him further than he wanted to go. Sometimes he felt like he should turn his back on her and run far away. But how could he do that? How could he run away from such intoxicating beauty? This must be what the songs talked about when they said that love hurt. He had never really understood that before.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ demanded Aasha, her hands on her wide hips. ‘Not scared are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You are scared. You’re like my kid brother. He’s scared of everything.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are. You’re just a kid like him. I’m two years older than you, I should never have agreed to be your girlfriend.’r />
  Drake got to his feet, a mix of fear and anger animating him. He stood tall, towering several inches over Aasha, even though she wore heels. ‘I’m nothing like Vijay! I’m taller than you. And stronger too.’ He gripped her arms tightly with his hands, ignoring the pain in his injured shoulder. He had to suppress a strong desire to slap the stupid cow, to teach her a lesson.

  Aasha seemed to sense his desire. She raised her face to his. Her eyes shone. ‘Big strong boy. Are you gonna hit me then?’ She turned her cheek toward him. ‘Slap my face. Or are you too scared even to hit a girl?’

  Drake released her from his grip and stood confused. ‘I ain’t gonna hit you,’ he said, his hands by his side.

  ‘Then steal for me, instead. Prove you’re not afraid of anything. Show me how bad you can be, and I’ll show you just how good I can be.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  King’s College Hospital, Lambeth, South London, waning moon

  Chanita knocked nervously on the door of the Medical Director, Doctor Brookes. This was going to be a tough encounter, but she had never shied away from difficult conversations. Years spent working as a nurse in the hospital’s Emergency Department had given her plenty of practice at delivering unwanted messages.

  She had no doubt that Doctor Brookes would be reluctant to hear what she had to say. He would probably try to placate her with empty words, but Chanita was resolved to stay until he agreed to take action.

  She blamed the Medical Director for the death of Doctor Kapoor. She was missing Doctor Kapoor terribly. He had been a fine doctor and a man of great principle. The two of them had forged a strong bond. Now he was gone, and she felt that a part of her had been taken with him. If only Doctor Brookes had agreed to Doctor Kapoor’s request for additional resources, he might never have been attacked and killed by that patient.

  To his credit, the Medical Director had acted swiftly and decisively following Doctor Kapoor’s death. It was obvious that the Emergency Department had been operating well beyond its capacity. Doctor Brookes had brought in extra resources from other departments, cancelled non-urgent operations, and established a ward dedicated entirely to bite and scratch cases. Immediately after the New Year’s Eve chaos, he’d declared a Black Alert, meaning that no more emergency beds were available. Anything that wasn’t a Level 1 trauma – wolf bites, gunshot wounds, car crashes, and so on – was being rerouted to one of the city’s other hospitals, and that had taken some of the immediate pressure off the department.