Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood

by Morris, Steve

  James nodded. The same police woman who had come to interview him yesterday. Liz, her name was.

  ‘After that, an infection set in. We had to pump you with some pretty heavy-duty antibiotics. Even so, it was touch-and-go for a while. You don’t remember any of this?’

  James shook his head again.

  ‘At one point you woke up and became violent. The nurses had to strap you down with restraints. Your temperature went so high I worried it would cause permanent damage, but you seem to have pulled through all right.’ The doctor moved closer and drew an instrument from his pocket. ‘Let’s just have a quick look at your eyes. Can you look into this for me?’

  James stared at the light in the doctor’s device. The bright light hurt his eyes. He could smell the doctor’s hot breath on his face. For some reason it made him feel hungry.

  ‘Your pupils are still dilated,’ said Doctor Kapoor. ‘And your eyes have a yellow tint. There’s a kind of mucous covering that must be a residual infection. I’ve prescribed you some eye drops, and hopefully that will clear up in a day or two. Do you feel any discomfort from the lights?’

  James nodded. ‘They seem very bright.’

  ‘Let’s keep that under review,’ said the doctor. ‘But all things being well, I think you ought to be ready to go home in a few days. Let’s just see if we can persuade you to eat something before you go, okay?’

  James thought of asking for some raw meat again, but thought better of it. It wasn’t really the doctor’s job to bring him food.

  The doctor flashed James a quick smile. ‘By the way, I’ve told the police it will be all right for them to interview you now. Do you feel up to it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good,’ said the doctor, and he moved on to his next patient, an elderly man with both legs in plaster.

  James lay in bed on his own for a while. His parents had been to see him earlier, and had left him some books and his iPod, but he didn’t feel like reading or listening to music. He couldn’t concentrate on anything like that. He had too much energy. He really wanted to get up and run around, but that didn’t seem what other people expected from him.

  He wasn’t sure about speaking to the police though. He had stabbed that man. Killed him. Would he be arrested for murder? He didn’t think he deserved to go to prison. After all, he had just been trying to protect the children. He’d been so scared, he hadn’t been thinking straight. Perhaps they would make allowances for that.

  After a while the police woman who had interviewed him the day before came back. She was short and stocky, and waddled a little when she walked. Her skin was freckled and fair, and her button nose and chubby cheeks gave her the appearance of a cute kid. She looked slightly comical in her police uniform, as if she were just wearing a costume. But James remembered how she had dragged him away from that lunatic with her strong arms. She was a lot tougher than her baby face suggested, and her mousy brown hair looked ready to pick a fight with someone. ‘Remember me?’ she enquired, her mouth a tentative half-smile.

  ‘Sure,’ said James nervously. ‘Liz. PC Liz Bailey. You came to see me yesterday.’ He pushed himself upright in the bed, taking care not to knock the needle that still connected the IV to his arm.

  Liz looked concerned. ‘Hey, steady. Are you sure you should be sitting up? You were barely able to talk to me yesterday.’

  ‘I’m feeling much better today.’ In fact his strength was returning almost minute by minute, despite the lack of food. He felt like superman. He hoped he wasn’t heading for some kind of relapse.

  ‘Well, just take it easy,’ said Liz. She sat down in a chair next to the bed. ‘The doctor told me it would be all right for me to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Yes,’ said James. ‘I’m sure there are lots of things you need to ask me. I’ve got some questions for you too. That is, if you don’t mind me asking,’ he added. There was something reassuring about the police woman. Even though she seemed quite gruff, James felt that he could tell that baby face anything. And it would be a relief to talk to someone about what had happened.

  ‘Of course,’ said Liz. ‘You can ask me anything. But first, I need to run through my questions. Is that okay?’

  James nodded.

  ‘I already know a lot about the sequence of events. I was first on the scene, along with my colleague. A neighbour reported a disturbance and we broke into the house. Do you remember that?’

  ‘Yes. I remember someone shouting and the door breaking down, and feeling glad that the children would be rescued at last. I wasn’t really worried about myself. I think I’d been so frightened that I just wasn’t able to feel scared any more. I didn’t care about the man either. I didn’t feel anything. I just kept twisting the knife. You had to wrench it from my fingers to make me stop. Does that make me a bad person?’

  ‘No, James. It’s perfectly understandable. What you describe is a common reaction to severe trauma.’

  ‘And are the children all right?’

  ‘They’re safe now. And maybe I can anticipate your next question and put you at ease a little. I want to let you know that you aren’t going to be prosecuted for killing Mr Leigh.’

  Not prosecuted. It took a moment to fully sink in. He wasn’t going to prison after all. He didn’t think he would have been able to handle that. But something Liz had said wasn’t right. It took a while before he worked it out. ‘Mr Leigh. That was his name?’ The man had behaved so badly it hardly seemed right he should have a name. He had been more like a beast.

  ‘That’s right. And it’s clear that there’s no case for you to answer. We’ve already established from speaking to the other children exactly what happened. From what they’ve told us, Mr Leigh was responsible for the incident, and you were simply protecting them and yourself.’

  ‘Are they really okay?’ James asked. He didn’t think the man had hurt them, but they must have been traumatized by what happened.

  ‘They’re completely unhurt,’ Liz reassured him. ‘Shaken, but children that age recover quickly.’

  ‘Sure.’ He hoped it was true. He wasn’t certain he would ever recover from the events of that evening. How could you kill a man and not be deeply affected? ‘Do you know why he did it?’ asked James. ‘Mr Leigh, I mean. Was he just some kind of madman?’

  ‘There’ll be an inquest into the death at some point, and the coroner will try to establish the cause of death and the sequence of events leading up to the incident.’

  ‘The cause of death won’t be too hard to work out,’ said James. A bread knife through the heart, with James’ fingerprints all over it. That would be a pretty good clue.

  ‘Right,’ agreed Liz. ‘So the inquest will focus more on the events that led up to his death. It seems that Mr Leigh had been ill for some time before the incident. He hadn’t been to work for several weeks. He’d visited a doctor who told him he could take time off school until he recovered.’

  James frowned. ‘School?’

  ‘Mr Leigh taught Geography at Manor Road Secondary School.’

  ‘What?’ James couldn’t process the new information. ‘I thought he was some unemployed drug addict or something.’ The idea that he’d killed a teacher seemed so much worse. But that kind of thinking made him feel shame. He had killed a man. What right did he have to judge him too?

  Liz was consulting her notes. ‘We took statements from each of the children, and from neighbours, but I just wanted to check some details with you. Did Mr Leigh at any point indicate why he wanted to harm you and the children?’

  ‘He said he wanted to eat us.’

  Now it was Liz’s turn to look shocked. ‘I wasn’t aware of that,’ she half-whispered. ‘The children didn’t say anything about it, just that he had frightened them.’

  James carried on. ‘He told me he hadn’t eaten for days and he wanted to eat us up.’ He noticed Liz glance at the bandages that covered the bite wound on his shoulder. ‘I guess he decided to start on me.’ For some reason,
James no longer felt any shock or even disgust at the idea of eating another human being. He could almost begin to understand what had driven Mr Leigh to do it. After two weeks without food, James felt ever more ravenous himself. He wondered what it had tasted like, and whether Mr Leigh had enjoyed it.

  ‘I see.’ Liz looked ill.

  ‘Anything else you want to know?’ asked James.

  ‘Not for the moment. There will be a report after the post-mortem examination to try to shed some light on the nature of Mr Leigh’s illness, and then the coroner’s court will be in touch when it’s time for you to attend the inquest. You won’t be on trial at the inquest. The purpose will be simply to establish the cause of death.’

  ‘I understand,’ said James.

  ‘So is there anything else you’d like to tell me?’

  ‘Just one more thing. Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For saving my life. Doctor Kapoor said that if you hadn’t arrived when you did and given me first aid, I’d be dead.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Manor Road Secondary School, South London, new moon

  Vijay Singh hurried along the shabby school corridor, worried he’d be late for his Year 10 Geography class. His heavy bag bounced on his shoulders, stuffed with books. Geography was his favourite class. Or at least it had been, before everything had gone wrong.

  As Vijay entered the classroom, Drake Cooper jumped out at him from behind the door. ‘Gonna eat you, gonna gobble you up!’ shouted Drake. The other kids in the class burst into hysterical laughter. ‘Mm, tasty kiddy,’ said Drake, pretending to chew on a bone. ‘Me very hungry.’ He rubbed his stomach and patted it with both hands.

  Ever since Mr Leigh had attacked those little kids on Halloween, the idea of a teacher eating his class had been all anyone wanted to talk about at school. Vijay didn’t think it was funny. He couldn’t think of anything less funny.

  Mr Leigh had been Vijay’s favourite teacher. Vijay had always liked Geography, but the way Mr Leigh taught it really brought the subject to life. Now he was gone and one of the sports teachers, Mr Johnson, had stepped in temporarily. Vijay probably already knew more about Geography than Mr Johnson ever would.

  Mr Leigh had been off sick for several weeks before he’d attacked those little kids on Halloween night. No one knew why he’d been sick, or why he’d done what he did. The other teachers refused to talk about it, but that had only fuelled the wildest speculation. Anything from a rare tropical disease to alien mind control had been proposed, but Drake Cooper’s theory was probably the most popular. ‘Guy just went mental. Ape-shit crazy. So would you if you had to teach at this crap school.’

  Vijay couldn’t come up with a better explanation himself. Nothing else could explain how a kind and sensitive man could have turned that way. Perhaps teaching at Manor Road School really had pushed him over the edge. Drake was certainly right that the school was crap. Half the kids here didn’t want to be taught, and Vijay had the feeling that the teachers didn’t want to teach them either. Mr Leigh had been one of the few who seemed to care, but perhaps something had just made him flip. Then again, it might have been some kind of fever that made Mr Leigh act crazy. Vijay guessed he would never find out the truth. All that really mattered was that the best teacher ever was dead, and school would never be the same again.

  The other kids in the classroom were still laughing at Vijay. Drake Cooper lunged forward again. ‘Gonna bite your head off!’ he cried, opening his mouth wide and rolling his eyes.

  Drake’s sidekick Ash Brown appeared and grabbed hold of Vijay’s arm. ‘You’ll have to pull his turban off first,’ he said.

  Vijay raised a hand instinctively to his head, shielding the cloth windings that covered his uncut hair. As a Sikh, it was unthinkable that Ash or Drake might pull the turban from his head. He shoved the two boys away from him. ‘Get off me, that’s sick.’

  Mr Johnson, the substitute teacher, sauntered into the classroom with a newspaper tucked under his arm. He glared at the boys. ‘Is there a problem, Vijay?’ he demanded.

  Vijay felt his cheeks flush with shame. ‘No, Mr Johnson.’

  ‘Good.’

  Everyone scrambled to find a seat.

  Mr Johnson started to wipe the whiteboard clean, then thought better of it, clearing just enough space to scrawl the words, Rainfall Patterns in Western Europe. ‘Okay. Everyone turn to page 52 of your textbook and start reading.’ He sat down at his desk and began to read his newspaper from the back.

  Vijay heard a loud whisper from his left. ‘Hey, Singh, look at this.’ He turned to look. Drake flicked a wad of paper straight at him, using his plastic ruler as a catapult. The missile hit him right in the middle of his face, knocking his glasses askew. ‘Ow!’ he cried.

  ‘Quiet in class,’ droned Mr Johnson from behind his newspaper.

  Drake and Ash sniggered loudly, but the teacher paid them no attention.

  Vijay rubbed his nose where the paper had struck. Sikh scriptures taught that tolerance of adversity was a divine quality, but Vijay had his doubts. At times like this he felt as if the world had no meaning. Nice guys like Mr Leigh lost their mind and tried to eat small children before getting killed themselves. Meanwhile, morons like Drake Cooper and Ash Brown carried on regardless. If there really was a God, he wasn’t taking his job very seriously. Rather like Mr Johnson, in fact. Vijay sighed and opened his textbook at page 52. They had already done this chapter with Mr Leigh, but there was no point telling that to Mr Johnson. Instead, he started to read.

  After school had finished, Vijay made his way out of the school gates and along Manor Road. Some kids cycled home, and others travelled in their parents’ cars or took the bus, but Vijay lived close enough to walk. He hadn’t gone far when he heard the sound of footsteps running up behind him. He stepped to the side of the pavement to let the runners pass, but lurched as someone grabbed hold of his school bag and swung him round. Another hand reached out and tugged at the cloth that wrapped his hair. It was Drake and Ash, grinning like a couple of idiots.

  ‘Hey!’ he cried, raising his hands to stop them pulling at the turban. ‘Stop that!’

  ‘Yo, Vijay,’ said Ash. ‘Can you lend us some money?’

  ‘What for?’ asked Vijay. He knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately.

  ‘So you got some, then,’ said Drake. ‘Come on, hand it over.’

  Vijay shook his head and tried to press past, but Ash blocked his way.

  ‘We’ll pay you back next week,’ said Drake.

  ‘No,’ said Vijay. He looked around for help, but there were no teachers or adults within sight. He knew that none of the other children would help him.

  Ash grabbed hold of his school bag and dragged it out of his hands before he could react. ‘Is the money in here?’ he asked, unzipping the bag and rummaging inside.

  ‘Stop it!’ shouted Vijay. He grabbed for the bag, but Ash was bigger than him and held it out of reach.

  ‘Just give us the money, and there’ll be no hassle,’ said Drake. ‘Come on, don’t make things nasty.’

  Vijay knew they had him beaten. He was the smallest boy in the class. How could he hope to fight back when he was outnumbered two to one? He pulled five pounds out of his pocket and handed the note over to Drake.

  ‘That all you got?’ demanded Drake.

  Vijay nodded miserably.

  ‘It’ll do,’ said Ash, dumping the school bag onto the pavement. He and Drake ran off down the road, high-fiving each other as they went.

  Vijay picked up his bag and trudged on toward home. Tears pricked at his eyes. A good Sikh should be able to bear pain, suffering and insult without complaint, he reminded himself. But who was he trying to fool? The real reason he had to endure such treatment was because he was too afraid to fight back. Drake and Ash terrified him, and they knew it.

  He heard another person coming up behind him and turned sharply in alarm.

  It was Rose Hallibury, a girl from his cla
ss. Vijay looked away from her, hanging his head in shame. She had seen everything.

  Rose walked along beside him for a little while, then she said, ‘You live near here don’t you? I’ve seen you walking this way before.’

  Vijay was surprised that she had even noticed him. She was much too pretty to be interested in him. He glanced furtively at her, and caught her emerald green eyes watching him closely from beneath a crown of fiery red hair. Her skin was white and her tiny button nose was splashed with freckles. Looking at her face was like staring directly at the sun and he turned his head away, embarrassed. ‘West Field Gardens,’ he answered timidly. ‘You live on the Terrace. I knew the family who used to live in your house.’

  ‘We moved there in the summer,’ said Rose. She waited a while, then added, ‘I’m sorry about what happened to Mr Leigh.’

  Vijay turned his face back to hers in surprise. ‘Me too. But why are you telling me?’ Rose had never even spoken to him before.

  ‘Because I know he was your favourite teacher,’ she said

  How she knew that was a mystery to Vijay. ‘Yes, he was. I don’t think it’s funny that he attacked those children. I just thought it was very sad.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Me too. Take no notice of what Drake and Ash say.’

  ‘I’ll try not to.’

  They walked along in silence for a minute, then she said, ‘I saw what just happened.’

  Vijay felt his cheeks burn. ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘It wasn’t nothing. And it will get worse if you let it.’

  Vijay had no reply to that. She had said aloud what he dreaded himself.

  ‘They pick on you because you look different,’ continued Rose. ‘That’s all. I used to get bullied in my old school because I have red hair.’

  Vijay stopped and stared at her shiny copper curls. How could anyone bully a girl with such lovely hair? ‘That’s stupid,’ he said. ‘You have beautiful hair.’ His cheeks were turning the same shade.

  Rose shook her head, her hair flashing sparks of red as it swayed back and forth. ‘It doesn’t matter. That’s how bullying works. It’s not important why you’re different. It can be anything, something small or stupid. Like having red hair, or glasses, or wearing a turban.’ She nodded to indicate the cloth wrapped around his long hair. ‘But you have to show them that you’re strong, otherwise they’ll just get worse and worse.’