Warg Daddy rubbed his head with his thumb. Life as a werewolf was proving to be tougher than he could have imagined. At first it had been a childhood dream fulfilled. He’d gained strength, agility and a range of fantastic superpowers. Becoming a werewolf had been even better than being the leader of a biker gang. In fact, he’d become the leader of a werewolf biker gang. Nothing could be better than that.
But then the shadows had begun to creep in. He hadn’t noticed at first, he’d been so hyped, but they were growing day by day. The shadows had begun to darken his vision. Brooding forms lurked at the periphery of his eyesight. Dancing figures, dark spots, sometimes even total blackouts. He couldn’t bear any kind of bright light and had taken to wearing dark glasses indoors, even at night. Headaches gripped him, but not normal headaches. These were wild and fierce, like demons stomping inside his skull. Some days his head felt like it was being slowly crushed in a vice.
There was no one he could talk to about it. Leanna was no help. She’d been the perfect girlfriend at the beginning, beautiful and sexy, but he never knew if she was going to suddenly flip into evil harpy mode. She could be a cold bitch if the mood took her. Some days she treated him like he was less than dirt. The cruel scars on her face didn’t do anything for her looks either. Warg Daddy wondered if she was worth the continued effort.
And now Snakebite was acting weird, like he knew all the answers. Snakebite had always had the slowest wit amongst the Brothers. Warg Daddy hadn’t kept him for his brains, but because he was seven feet tall and mean as hell. Now that dumb fucker had started telling Warg Daddy what to do. He ought to smack Snakebite back into place, except that with his crippling headaches, he needed Snakebite more than ever. When thinking was just too hard, Snakebite did the thinking for him. One day Warg Daddy would put him back where he belonged, but for now, he depended on him.
Leanna had flipped into bitch mode again by the looks of it. She turned her wrath on Warg Daddy. ‘The test subjects keep dying!’ she screeched. ‘Almost every single one! Do you know why they keep dying?’
Warg Daddy shrugged. Leanna’s words were true. Most of the victims the Brothers brought back to the house had died, despite Adam’s attention. But how was Warg Daddy supposed to know why?
‘They’re too weak!’ screamed Leanna. ‘Drunks, drug addicts, alcoholics, low-life scum. Useless, the lot of them. Bring me young, healthy subjects instead!’
He was beginning to tire of this. The work was tricky, and dangerous. Armed police and soldiers were everywhere, and few people roamed the streets at night these days. Tracking down victims and bringing them back unharmed and undetected wasn’t half as easy as Leanna seemed to think. ‘It’s not so easy,’ he said. ‘We need to find people who won’t be missed. The kind that wander around in the dark. On their own, in unsafe places.’
‘Bring me people who take good care of themselves. The kind that will be missed. Young, fit, healthy, beautiful ones. Humans that are worth changing into werewolves. Ones that may actually survive the change!’
‘We’ll try harder next time,’ he said, lamely. What Warg Daddy really wanted was action. Not all this sack-over-the-head business in back alleyways. Not fumbling in the dark for unwary victims. Not dragging them back to Leanna’s lair for her to work her dark magic. Proper action, that’s what he needed. The Brothers craved it too. They were restless. Sooner or later, they needed to rumble.
‘Maybe there’s a better way,’ suggested Snakebite.
‘Tell me,’ demanded Leanna.
‘Well,’ said Snakebite. ‘What about the hospital?’
‘What about it?’
‘We could attack it.’
Warg Daddy leaned forward, his interest roused. ‘What for, Snake? Which hospital?’
‘The one where the army are keeping the bite victims. There’s a whole new generation of werewolves there. Why don’t we break them out?’
Warg Daddy looked hopefully at Leanna. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s guarded by the army,’ said Leanna.
‘We can handle it,’ said Warg Daddy.
Leanna’s eyes had narrowed. She was thinking hard. ‘The authorities have collected together all the Stage One and Stage Two cases in one place. How convenient. The doctors and nurses are doing our job for us, caring for the infected. For the moment that suits our purposes.’
‘But if we can get the patients out, then our numbers will increase,’ said Warg Daddy.
‘The time to do it will be the next full moon,’ said Snakebite. ‘The patients will change as soon as we free them. The advantage will lie with us.’
‘The next full moon,’ echoed Leanna. ‘The wolf moon.’
Wolf Moon was the name given to the first full moon of the new year, the first full moon in January. Warg Daddy knew all about it. In some ancient cultures it was called the Snow Moon or Ice Moon. It was the time when the wolves gathered, when hunger made them forget their usual caution, and they were at their most dangerous.
‘We’ll do it,’ said Leanna.
‘We’ll have to be careful,’ cautioned Adam. ‘There’s no need to take risks.’
But there was a need to take risks. Without risks, Warg Daddy could hardly bear to live.
Chapter Fifty
Upper Terrace, Richmond upon Thames, West London, new moon
It was time for James to go out. Grocery supplies in the house were running low, and even if James didn’t need food, the others did. Melanie was still too weak to venture out of the house, and Sarah couldn’t. It had become too dangerous for them in any case.
Before James set out he lit a candle and prayed, kneeling beneath the simple wooden crucifix he had hung on the wall of his room. ‘Dear God, please guide me and help me find food for the people of this house. Help me to keep them safe from harm.’
He wanted to add, not like the way you allowed Samuel to die, but he resisted the urge. It was not for him to question why God had permitted that to happen.
As ever these days, the voice of God remained silent in his mind, but James was used to that now. God would speak to him when it was time. Until then, it was enough for James to speak to God. ‘I know that you will guide me and help me to do what’s right,’ he said. He finished by making the sign of the cross.
‘I heard you praying,’ said Sarah when he came downstairs. ‘Does it help to talk?’
James nodded. ‘Sometimes I talk to God, and sometimes I talk to Samuel.’
‘Your friend? I can tell that you miss him terribly.’
‘I do. He was so full of life. And now he’s gone. I still can’t believe it. Sometimes I forget he’s dead and I think of something to say to him, and then I remember all over again that he’s dead. It doesn’t seem possible. I feel like he must still be here with me. I really do. Do you think that sounds crazy?’
Sarah rested her hand on his. ‘No, not at all. When Melanie and I were young our parents died, and I felt exactly like that. For a long time I couldn’t accept it. I thought they must be hiding from us somewhere and would return one day.’
‘But it’s not like that,’ said James. ‘I know Samuel is dead. I held his body in my arms and watched the life leave him. And yet it still feels like he’s here with me. I see his face sometimes, and I talk to him. Is it madness to speak out loud to the dead?’
‘No. It’s not madness. It’s grief. It’s the sanest response to a cruel world.’
‘I talk to Samuel because I’m so confused about everything,’ continued James. ‘I used to think that life was simple. Be good. Don’t sin. Do what God wants us to do. But now I can’t be certain what God truly wants. I’m not even certain what being good means. I need God more than ever, yet God is silent. I can’t hear his voice anymore, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’
‘After all that’s happened, can you still be certain that God really exists?’ asked Sarah gently.
‘He has to,’ said James fiercely. ‘Otherwise what purpose do we have? There’s no meanin
g to anything. We’re all just surviving, like animals.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like that,’ said Sarah. ‘We can find our own meaning.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, what would Samuel have wanted you to do?’
James didn’t need to think before answering. ‘He’d have wanted me to be brave and always do the right thing,’ he told Sarah. ‘But how can I know what the right thing is?’
‘Just follow your heart, James. Always listen to your heart.’
He shook his head. ‘I was following my heart when I killed Father Mulcahy in the church. And when I killed all those people at the railway station, I didn’t even think about my actions, I just did what seemed natural. But that was wrong. I can’t trust my heart. I have the heart of a wolf now.’
‘No, you still have a good heart, a human heart. I know you do.’
James cocked his head to one side to think about it. ‘Samuel had a good heart, even after he’d become a werewolf. He wanted everyone to live together in peace – black and white, gay and straight, old and young, rich and poor. Becoming a werewolf didn’t ever change that desire in him, it made it stronger. I want to make his dream come true. And more than that, I want humans and werewolves to live together peacefully too.’
‘Make it happen, James. If anyone can do it, you can.’
‘I’ll try my best. And there’s one thing I know for certain.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve killed so many people. I’m never going to kill again.’
He left the house then, stepping foot outdoors for the first time in many days. It felt strange to be out again in the fresh air, all alone. He had grown used to having Samuel with him whenever he went out, and he felt the empty space at his side keenly.
The space had a shape, almost as if his friend walked with him still. Tentatively, James reached out a hand to hold Samuel’s. It closed on thin air but the feeling that Samuel was there didn’t leave him.
Perhaps Sarah had been right. Perhaps he could find meaning in an empty world. As long as it wasn’t entirely empty. As long as he could still cherish the memory of Samuel.
‘Stay with me,’ James whispered to his dead friend. ‘I can’t go on without you.’
The ghost of Samuel remained silent and invisible, but it gave James the comfort and strength that he needed to continue.
Sarah had given him a wad of money and a list of things they needed. She had told him where to go to find food shops and he headed in that direction now, walking casually, trying not to draw attention to himself. The streets were strangely empty, even though it was the middle of the day. He passed a few people, but they hardly looked at him. There was no reason to, he was just a boy. They didn’t know the beast that lived within him.
The house where Sarah and Melanie lived was on the edge of Richmond Park, and he had to walk a good way before he arrived at a more built-up commercial area. The first shop he reached was a burned-out shell. Virtually nothing remained of the building’s interior, and cold ash blew across the street, collecting in doorways like drifting snow. The fire must have taken place several days ago and there was nothing to be found here.
The second shop was boarded up with wooden panels across its windows and entrance. Yellow-and-black police crime tape sealed the building and a sign on the door read, Closed until further notice.
James trudged on, following the road that led away from Richmond and toward Clapham Common. He was only about a mile from his old home in Mayfield Avenue and he soon began to recognize buildings and landmarks along his route. A curiosity suddenly gripped him. He had not allowed himself to dwell on what had happened to his parents since he had left home. He had been too ashamed to imagine how his mother and father must have worried when he disappeared without trace. But now it was all too apparent. The grief he felt for Samuel must be exactly what his parents felt for him. And at least he had the advantage of knowing exactly what had happened to Samuel. His parents must be ravaged by the uncertainty of not knowing if James was still even alive.
He quickened his pace, following the road, knowing that it would lead him past the place where Samuel had died, but unable to stop. If he could just see the house he had lived in and know that his parents were still safe. If he could perhaps send them a sign that he was still alive …
‘Hey, you!’
He had been so caught up with his thoughts that he had forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings. A gang of four strangers blocked his way along the roadside. They were teenagers, about his own age, two white, two black, wearing baggy jeans and a mix of hoodies and leather jackets.
‘I’m talking to you, blud,’ said their leader, a black youth with his hair in braids. He shoved James roughly on the shoulder.
Samuel, thought James. The boy’s black face and hair reminded him keenly of his dead friend, but Samuel would never have behaved that way.
James stepped back and the gang closed in around him, blocking his escape.
‘Give us your phone,’ said the youth. ‘Come on, hand it over.’
‘I don’t have a phone,’ said James.
‘Everyone got a phone, innit?’ said one of the other kids, a heavily-built guy with a thick metal chain looped around his neck. A flick-knife appeared in his hand and he held it up so James could see. ‘Give it to us now, or I’ll cut yer face.’
‘I don’t have a phone,’ repeated James, trying to stay calm. ‘Please leave me alone.’
‘Please?’ goaded the kid with the knife. ‘Please leave you alone? We’ll leave yer bleeding in the gutter if yer don’t give us yer phone right now.’
‘Please,’ begged James. ‘I don’t have a phone, but I have money. I’ll give you half of my money if you leave me alone.’ He had promised Sarah he would do the right thing, that he would never harm anyone. But these people were making it so hard for him. The right thing was to use the money to buy food for his friends. The right thing was not to hurt these kids.
The leader laughed out loud. ‘Half your money?’ he said incredulously. ‘You having a laugh?’ He looked around at his friends to see if they believed what they’d just heard. ‘You’ll give us half your money?’ He turned back to James and this time his voice was filled with menace. ‘Give it all to us, now.’
The kid with the knife raised the weapon and one of the others grabbed hold of James’ arms, pulling them tightly behind his back. The knife waved in his face. ‘Gimme yer fucking phone too!’ screamed the knife-wielder.
‘I already told you. I don’t have one,’ snapped James angrily. The wolf blood was pumping in his veins and his heart hammered loudly in his chest, but he didn’t struggle as his arms were pinned back. He wouldn’t kill these kids, whatever they did to him. He refused to kill again.
The leader of the gang reached inside James’ back pocket and pulled out the wad of cash that Sarah had given him.
‘Please don’t take it,’ begged James. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. ‘I need that money to buy food.’
‘Yeah?’ said the gang leader. ‘Too bad. Looks like you gonna go hungry tonight.’ He took the money and stuffed it into his pocket.
‘Please,’ begged James desperately. ‘Don’t make me hurt you.’ Hot tears were streaming from his eyes now. They were giving him no choice. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he couldn’t return home empty-handed. He wouldn’t.
The gang leader laughed again. ‘You hurt us? That ain’t never gonna happen. You ain’t the one holding a knife, innit, blud?’
‘Hey,’ said the kid with the knife. ‘He still ain’t handed over his phone.’
Blood boiled in James’ veins. He longed to rip at their throats, to sink his teeth into their soft flesh. He had not eaten for days, and the hunger rose inside him, almost uncontrollably. But he had made a promise to Sarah, and to Samuel. He would not kill again.
‘I told you I don’t have a phone,’ he snarled. ‘Now give me back my money. This is your last chance.’
Crue
l laughter was his only reply.
James screwed up his eyes, struggling to control the rage inside.
These boys were no older than himself. They might have grown up just a few streets away from him. Perhaps if he hadn’t come from a good home he would be out on the streets just like them. That boy with the flick knife and the metal chain around his neck might be James. The black-skinned leader with the braided hair might be Samuel, the two of them together out on the streets. James knew how it felt to wield a knife. He had used one on Halloween night to protect himself and the children in his care.
But that had been in self-defence. James had acted to save the innocent. He had not used a knife like these boys, to steal. And Samuel had not ended up in a street gang despite growing up in a poor black neighbourhood. He had made choices. Good choices. At some point everyone had to take responsibility for their own actions.
James twisted in the grip of the boy who held him, moving quickly, wrenching his arms free and hurling his assailant back against the wall. The kid folded up, clutching his body where he had collided against the rough brickwork. James swung round and lashed out at the knife wielder, chopping at his elbow and knocking the knife from his grip. The kid cried out in pain and James brought his knee up into the boy’s stomach. He sprawled backward onto the pavement, moaning in agony.
The other two gang members regarded him warily. The leader grabbed hold of the fourth boy and pushed him forward. ‘Take him down,’ he ordered.
The boy approached hesitantly, his eyes never leaving James’ face. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out another knife, a larger one with a fierce blade, hugging it close to his chest. ‘Get away!’ he called. ‘Run!’
‘Not without my money,’ said James.
The boy came closer, the knife held firmly, ready to strike.
Lycanthropic (Book 2): Wolf Moon (The Rise of the Werewolves) Page 21
