He kept a Swiss Army knife in his back pocket and he drew it out, flipping one of the blades open. He tried the gag again, this time sawing at the cloth until it split. He folded the knife closed and pulled the material away from her head. The cloth wad was still in her mouth though. ‘Can you spit it out?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘I’m not going to put my hand in your mouth. You have to remove it yourself,’ he said. He was drunk now, but he wasn’t going to make a rookie mistake like that.
She threw her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the gag, but it seemed to be stuck fast. She may have partly swallowed it.
‘Use your tongue to push it out,’ he suggested.
He watched as she pushed the cloth slowly out of her mouth, saliva drooling from her lips as she regurgitated it out. Briefly he glimpsed the sharp canine teeth that had appeared during the past few days. Astonishing. How could such rapid transformation occur? There were precedents for it in other parts of the animal kingdom. Cats could extend and retract their claws at will; pufferfish and certain types of frogs could produce spikes on previously smooth skin. Octopi had the ability to change the hue and texture of their skin as camouflage, and cuttlefish could even change shape to evade predators or when hunting. He suspected that regenerative stem cells were at work – the same process that enabled crocodiles to quickly regrow lost teeth.
He wished he had more time to study the development of the condition, to track its progress, maybe even develop a cure. That was all a pipe dream now.
The last of the gag came away from her mouth and she licked her teeth slowly and smiled up at him. The smile was that of a beast. It chilled him as much as the yellow eyes that shone brightly in the semi-light.
The candle was burning low, but was still bright enough to light the room. He knew that electric lights would cause her pain, and in any case his own eyes had become accustomed to the dark. The moon had swung around slightly since he last checked and its light now crept to the edge of the bed. If it touched her skin, she would change. But he would remember to keep an eye on it. If the moonlight came too close to her, he needed only to close the door.
‘Professor Wiseman,’ she said, her voice hoarse, but still recognizably hers. They were the first words she had spoken in almost two weeks. Once he had thought he would never hear her speak again. ‘Thanks for coming to see me,’ she said. ‘I missed your company.’
He had attended to her almost constantly when the condition had first taken hold. He had nursed her, brought her water, mopped her brow when the fever began, administered painkillers and basic medication. He had tended to the other two just the same. But nothing he did slowed the onset of the condition. It always progressed in the same way. Flu symptoms at first, followed by fevers and uncontrolled shaking. The subject might well die without medical attention in those early days. But as the condition took hold, less could be done. The patients became disgusted by any food he offered, and eventually even water would cause them to vomit. At that point they became violent and had to be restrained, for their own safety as well as his. They looked close to death, but somehow they were actually gaining in strength, undergoing some kind of metamorphosis from man to beast. He couldn’t be certain when they ceased to be human, but Leanna had certainly passed that point.
The face regarding him now was no longer that of the girl he once knew. Still he found that he needed to talk to her. ‘I missed you too,’ he admitted. ‘It’s lonely in the cabin by myself.’
‘The others?’ she asked. ‘Adam and Samuel?’
He shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen them since they ran.’
‘How long ago was that?’ she asked. ‘I can’t remember how long I’ve been here.’
‘You’ve been in bed for two weeks. Tied up for most of that time. You know why I had to do that?’
‘Sure.’ She smiled as she said it. She was a trained scientist. She understood. ‘I’d have done the same thing if our roles were reversed.’
‘Of course.’
‘So how long have the other two been out there?’ she asked again.
He didn’t need to think about the answer to that. The full moon outside was all the reminder he needed. ‘One month exactly. Since the last full moon.’
‘Oh yes.’ She turned her head to look at the sliver of silver light coming through the half-open door. It was only a foot away from her now. ‘So when the moonlight reaches me, the transition will be complete?’
‘You know I can’t allow that to happen,’ he said. ‘I caused two of you to transform. I can’t be responsible for you as well.’
Her yellow eyes narrowed, the pupils black within them. ‘So what, then? You’ve come to kill me?’
He shook his head and lifted the whisky bottle off the floor. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘Not that. Never that.’ He took another slug of liquid from the bottle, swallowed and coughed.
When he finished coughing, she was staring at him intently. ‘You can’t leave me here like this,’ she told him. ‘The other two will tear me to pieces if they find me in this state.’
She didn’t mention what they would do to him. He was glad of that. She was right though. If she didn’t fully complete the transition, the other two would kill her when they came for him. He had seen it happen in other cases. The beasts showed no mercy for anyone but their own kind.
‘What then?’ he asked, although he already knew what she would say.
‘Untie me,’ she begged, and a light flickered in her eyes, whether wolf or human he couldn’t say. ‘Please. I won’t hurt you. Just untie me and I’ll go. Please, Professor,’ she added softly.
It had been a while since anyone had spoken to him like that. She knew it too. There was a wolf cunning about the way she looked at him. Just the right amount of helplessness. A good dose of logic and reason to persuade him. And an appeal to his better nature. Oh, she was cunning all right. Devious and manipulative. He could see that.
But she had a point. He wouldn’t survive beyond tonight whatever happened. Surely he owed her this last kindness. He had brought her to this place. He was responsible for all that had happened, even if it hadn’t been his fault.
She said nothing, just looked up at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘Okay.’ He would do it before he had time to reconsider. Don’t think, just do it. He grabbed at the bottle again and opened his mouth wide for a last mouthful. He was surprised to find the bottle empty. It had been a good malt, one of the best. He let the bottle fall to the wooden floor.
He reached around to his back pocket and took out the knife again. His movements were becoming clumsy. He guessed he was properly drunk at last. He’d need to be careful with the knife. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she’d already been hurt.
‘Thanks, Professor,’ she said, as he cut away the rope that bound her ankles. ‘You won’t regret this, I promise.’
The knife was short and the blade wasn’t particularly sharp. He wasn’t at his best either, but steadily he cut through the ties that held her. Her legs were free now. She lay still, just as she had promised.
She eyed her right arm, where the rope wrapped around her bloodied wrist. He inserted the blade carefully, trying not to cut her skin. He wriggled the knife back and forth, but the knot stayed firm. God, he had tied it tight. Eventually it came away, leaving one last rope to cut. The moon had nearly reached her fingers. She would turn then, and no rope would be strong enough to hold her.
‘You know you were always my favourite student,’ he told her. ‘Not just because you were so bright, but because …’
‘I know,’ she said.
‘A Professor shouldn’t have such thoughts, but I’m only human.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Only human.’ She licked her lips eagerly, revealing a flash of white teeth.
He could add his inappropriate feelings toward a female student to his list of personal faults. Along with his drinking … his failure to pr
otect his students from harm … perhaps his colleagues had been right to dismiss his work out of hand. But no, the proof of his studies was right here before his eyes.
‘Hurry, now,’ she said.
From outside the wolves howled again. They were very close now, much closer than before.
He cut at the final rope as fast as he could, nicking his hand with the blade as he did. A drop of blood ran down his ring finger. Leanna jerked her head forward and licked the blood away with her long tongue.
Tears stung his eyes as he sliced through the last cords that held her. What had he done? He should have plunged the knife through her heart when he had the chance. But he could never have done that. Never that.
Leanna bounded off the bed when the rope came away and rushed to the door. She moved faster than any human had ever moved. But then, she was no longer human. She flung the door wide open and stood in the glare of the full moon’s rays. Bathed in its cold light, her body began to change.
From the side of the bed, Wiseman watched in horrified fascination. He had not seen the transformation this close before. He knew he should run, but he could not.
Over the past days, Leanna had already changed in many subtle ways. Her skin had paled and grown thin, but her hair and nails had become strong and long. Her teeth, her eyes, and her nose had become wolf-like, and her muscles had not wasted from lack of food, but instead had grown lean and taut. Now, with the bright light of the full moon as a catalyst, her final transition to Stage Three began.
At first he thought she was shrivelling up, but rather, her skin was changing. Fine pale hairs sprouted from the back of her hands, her neck, and even her ears. They grew longer and thicker until they completely covered her skin. She kept her face turned away from him but he imagined the hair slowly covering her once beautiful features. She moaned as the golden hair thickened into fur.
Where the ropes had cut her skin, the wounds were healing rapidly, the scratches fading, scabs forming over damaged tissue, shrinking and falling away to the floor, as if in a time-lapse video.
She appeared to be getting shorter, but then he realized she was stooping forward to stand on all fours. Her shoulders broadened and thickened, tight muscle bulging beneath the coat of fur that now covered her entire body. Her clothes tore as she changed, and she ripped them away in shreds, revealing golden fur, not skin, beneath. She paced the small floor of the room impatiently. Her arms and legs had changed, balancing the move from two legs to four, and her feet had transformed into paws, her fingernails into sharpened claws. The transition was complete.
When she turned her head to look back at him, he cried out in fear. A wolf stared at him now, fiery yellow eyes deep-set in a fur-covered face. Her nose had become a snout, and when she parted her lips, a long pink tongue drooled saliva over rows of sharp incisors and carnassial teeth. Perhaps most terrifying of all were the enlarged canines that protruded more than an inch from her upper jaw like fangs. They were the mark of a predator. They were the mark of a beast.
The wolf snarled and paced toward him.
Wiseman backed up against the wall, holding the tiny knife as the beast advanced, trying to keep the bed between himself and the creature. His knife hand trembled violently.
The wolf padded closer, fearlessly. He was shocked when the creature spoke. ‘I’m hungry,’ it rasped huskily.
Wiseman stared incredulously at the wolf. He had no idea they could speak once changed. The voice was Leanna’s, but deeper, throatier. ‘You p-promised you wouldn’t hurt me,’ he stuttered. The old Leanna would never have hurt anyone. He couldn’t have imagined a kinder person.
‘No,’ growled the wolf angrily. ‘Leanna the woman promised that. She is gone. I am Leanna the wolf.’
He realized at that moment that Leanna was no more. No humanity remained, only cruelty. He curled up on the bed, the blade falling from his grasp. His fingers shook uncontrollably.
‘But I won’t hurt you,’ said the wolf slyly. ‘Not unless I catch you.’
‘What?’ Just one word, but what else could he say?
‘I’ll give you a chance,’ said the creature, grinning that hideous wolf grin again, showing him those fangs, those bright eyes shining yellow like torches. ‘I’ll only hurt you if I catch you. So run.’
He stayed motionless, stupid, rigid with fear.
‘Run!’ shrieked the wolf.
He stood to run, but where could he go? The cabin was miles from the nearest village, the temperature well below freezing. He wouldn’t survive an hour out there. In his condition he would barely make it out of the cabin. Terror made him mute. All he could say was, ‘Where?’
‘If you can get to the Land Rover, you can drive to the village and ask for help,’ said the wolf. ‘The snow chains should work, as long as the snow hasn’t drifted too deep. If it has, well …’
‘That’s crazy,’ said Wiseman. ‘Driving down the mountain in the dark … it’s suicide. You know what the road is like in December. I could drive down a gully, or get trapped under ice. It’s suicide. You know it is.’ He was blabbering now, he knew it.
The wolf snarled again. When it spoke its voice was like the ice that covered the dark ranks of trees outside. ‘I don’t care. Now run!’
This time Wiseman didn’t hesitate. There was no mistaking the tone of that voice. If he didn’t run immediately the wolf would kill him anyway. He lurched toward the open door. The wolf stepped aside to let him pass. It sniffed him as he went, as if he were mere food. That brought him to his senses. He grabbed at his coat, thrusting his arms through the sleeves but not stopping to pull up the zip. He squashed his thick winter hat on his head and pushed out into the freezing night.
Chapter Three
Cold air slapped Wiseman’s face as he emerged from the cabin, sobering him up sharply. He slammed the door closed behind him and stood panting on the wooden step, his breath condensing into clouds.
The night held deadly beauty. Snow had drifted up against the outside walls of the cabin, but the steps leading down from the cabin door were still largely clear. A smooth layer of white stretched away before him, untouched by man or beast. No bird moved in the forest, nor stag, nor rabbit, nor dormouse. Only him. And the wolves.
Beyond the clearing the pine trees stood like sentinels, so tall their tops vanished into the black sky above. The earlier wind had dropped, making the forest uncannily still and silent. The snow had stopped too, and the clouds had cleared, revealing a scattering of stars like diamonds against the black velvet of the sky. He wondered if he had dreamed or been overcome by a fit of madness. But no, the dreamlike beauty of the mountains contained a true nightmare. Leanna had turned and he was running for his life.
He looked around the clearing. The Land Rover was parked some way down the slope. It was covered by snow, just another white object amongst the white, but he could make out its mass against the background of dark pine trunks. He had left it some fifty feet away from the cabin. He hadn’t expected he would need to run to it in any hurry. If the snow had drifted too deep, he would die before he reached it.
Wiseman stepped out into the virgin snow and sank up to his knees. He waded in the direction of the vehicle, the snow deepening the further he moved from the cabin, slowing his pace to a crawl.
‘Don’t fall, Wiseman. Don’t fall,’ he panted to himself as he lifted first one heavy leg, then the other. ‘Don’t slip. Don’t make a single mistake.’
Clouds of billowing white escaped from his mouth as he dragged his legs through the white drifts, making his way toward the Land Rover. This far from the dimly-lit cabin, the only light was from the moon and its reflection off the smooth mirror of the snow. He could be thankful that the moon was full and bright tonight. He laughed mirthlessly at the irony of that. The moon had always been linked with madness. Now it watched over his own mad flight for life.
He reached the Land Rover after what seemed like an age. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, but Leanna had not yet emerged from
the cabin. She was giving him time to run. She must want the thrill of a chase. Well, he would give her that, if he could. The other two had still not shown themselves, although they must be almost here by now. They might even be waiting just beyond the clearing, ready to tear his throat. He could do nothing about that. Instead, he turned his attention to the vehicle.
It was an old model, the type that had served farmers and the military for thirty years or more, not one of those new ones that city types drove to the office. It had done a hundred and fifty thousand miles but was good for another hundred thousand at least. He made a point of keeping the vehicle well maintained. In these mountains, your life could depend on regular oil and filter changes. He just hoped it would start. He hadn’t driven it for almost a week, and it had been well below freezing every night, sometimes all day too.
The Land Rover was fitted with high-tensile steel snow chains with an automatic tensioning system. They were designed to operate in sub-zero temperatures and on the steepest slopes, and they had served him well in the two winters he had spent up here in the mountains. This would be their ultimate test.
He fitted the key into the door of the Land Rover and tried to turn it, but the lock was frozen solid. Dammit. He gripped the key with both hands and applied as much torque as his cold fingers allowed, but it wasn’t enough. Crouching down in the snow he cupped his palms together and breathed out through his mouth, forcing warm, moist air into the lock. Three long breaths and he tried again. This time the key turned.
He took hold of the door handle and pulled hard. The door had frozen too, but after using the key to scrape ice from around the edge, he managed to pull it open using both hands. He climbed inside. As he did so, he heard the sound of the two wolves howling. They had entered the clearing, just next to the log cabin. The sound of the beasts chilled him to the bone.
Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood Page 2