The cool glow bathed her face gently, like a healing balm. Up there, in the heavens, all was at peace. As Liz watched, she felt some of that tranquillity permeate her own thoughts. Unlike the lights that had dazzled her these past days, the cool moonbeams soothed her eyes. The gash on her forehead tingled under the frosty rays, almost as if the moon were healing her wound. A feeling of calm began to fill her, as if she were floating free. Her head slowly cleared and her senses came back into focus. She brushed her forehead and found that the cut had stopped bleeding. She touched her hand to her side, expecting to feel a sharp jarring. Instead, when she removed her hand, her palm was clean. The wound bled no more.
Liz stood up, tentatively at first, using the wall for balance. But she didn’t need it. Strength returned to her limbs; not just normal strength, but a superhuman power. She felt it pulsing through her veins like pure energy. She wiped the yellow film from her eyes and surveyed the scene. Whether because of the light of the moon, or a surge of adrenaline, or some other power, her vision had reached a new level. Every detail was picked out in high relief. Every move and sound came to her amplified.
Two of the thugs lay writhing on the ground, their hands over their faces, the after-effects of the tear gas rendering them immobile for now. The two others were assaulting one of the girls – one holding her from behind, the other tearing her dress.
They moved so slowly, the man’s hand reaching out and grasping the dress in his fingers, closing his hand around the material and pulling down, inch by inch, all so slow. He stood back to admire his work, and the girl’s face drooped in shame and dismay. So slowly they moved, like a series of freeze frames, every moment dragged out for her to inspect.
Had time slowed, or had Liz speeded up? She moved before she even knew it, rushing the nearest of the thugs, the one who had torn the dress, a growl rising in her throat unbidden, her fingers reaching out like weapons.
She slashed at the so-called vigilante, grabbing his thick neck from behind, spinning him round to face her, and tearing the smirk from his face with her fingernails. His eyes widened slowly in shock, the blood spurting in dark droplets from his cheeks, the insolent mouth opening and closing in dumb astonishment. She struck him again so hard he dropped straight to the ground. It was like swatting a fly. He lay there, groaning and clutching his head. The girl in the torn dress looked at Liz in awe.
The last of the youths stayed frozen, the metal bar pressed to Aasha’s throat, his hands gripping the weapon so tightly his knuckles stood out ice-white, just like the cold light of the moon. His face was inscrutable behind the visor of his helmet, but Liz smelled fear leaking from his pores like sweat.
She wrenched the metal bar from his fingers before he could use it, simultaneously raking his exposed neck with her nails. She watched as the metal pole fell spinning harmlessly to the ground, the man also twisting away and stumbling as a fine spray of blood splattered from her nails. She spun on the ball of her foot and kicked him in the chest, sending him reeling backward the entire width of the alleyway. He struck the ground with a satisfying thud.
The girl stood inert, awe turned to terror now.
Liz stopped. The reckless force that had animated her ebbed away as quickly as it had come. Her arms went limp. The march of time caught up with her again as her sight and hearing returned to normal. She gasped for breath and dropped her hands to her hips, suddenly desperate for air, as if she had emerged from beneath the ocean and almost drowned. She panted heavily through her mouth until the urgency for oxygen abated.
The girl she had saved still watched her, but her terror had faded to mere fear. For a moment she’d been more afraid of Liz than of her attackers. ‘It’s okay,’ Liz told her breathlessly. ‘Everything’s going to be all right now.’
The girl nodded, folding her arms across her chest in modesty. The tattered dress hung in ruins. One of her friends stepped up and helped her to sit down on the pavement.
Liz looked around. There were more bodies on the ground than people still standing. Drake and Vijay were both hurt. Dean and the injured driver were unconscious, or worse. The four rioters were all subdued, either from tear gas or Liz’s own work. They needed urgent medical attention, but that meant going for help. ‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘I’m going to fetch an ambulance. I’ll be back soon.’
But walking was more effort than she had anticipated. Her exertions had left her drained. Her boots felt like lead weights and every step took an enormous act of will. Soon she was shuffling instead of walking, her feet impossible to lift. Halfway back along the alleyway she stopped for breath and leaned against the wall for support. The bricks of the wall were cold, damp and rough, but as good as a feather bed. Liz closed her eyes. Just for a moment. She only wanted a little rest.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Vijay’s arm burned with pain. The baseball bat must have shattered every bone in his lower arm. He could no longer move it below the elbow, and each time he tried the pain shot through him like a jolt of lightning, bringing tears to his eyes. He feared he would pass out from the torment.
He’d lost his glasses when he fell down and couldn’t be certain what he’d seen. The guy with the baseball bat had torn Aasha’s dress, he had heard that loudly enough, but after that he couldn’t say for sure. The police woman, Liz, had become a blur. Without the help of his glasses, she’d already been hazy, but she had blurred more when she’d attacked the rioters, moving with blinding speed. Impossible speed. But what did Vijay really know? Liz was a trained police officer, and he could barely see past the end of his own nose without his glasses.
He groped around on the ground with his uninjured hand, his fingers seeking out his dropped glasses, but they were nowhere to be found. Without them he was useless. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, and hot pain shot through his injured arm as he fumbled along the cold, hard ground. Then Rose knelt beside him and lifted the glasses from the pavement. ‘Thanks,’ he said, as she slid them carefully back onto his face. The frame had twisted askew, but miraculously the lenses were intact.
Aasha and the other girls were huddling together under the streetlamp, her friends holding her for support. She looked shocked but safe.
The policeman had been hurt badly though, and lay motionless next to the other injured man.
He looked for Drake, and saw his friend struggling to his feet. Blood trickled from Drake’s lips and the skin around his mouth looked broken. Like Vijay, he’d taken a nasty blow from the baseball bat.
A look of cold determination filled Drake’s face. He limped to where the baseball bat had been abandoned and picked it up.
‘What are you doing, Drake?’ Vijay asked. ‘Liz said to wait here.’
His friend ignored him. Instead he walked slowly to the prone body of the thug in the ski mask, taking the bat with him. The guy lay in the street, clutching his face. Even without his glasses, Vijay had seen Liz rip into him with her fingernails, splattering blood as she slashed at his face. He was moaning quietly to himself and didn’t look like a threat anymore.
‘Drake?’ said Vijay nervously.
Drake’s attention was fixed on the injured youth. ‘Not so much fun when it happens to you, is it?’ he demanded.
The youth said nothing, just rolled over, his hands covering his bloodied face.
Drake stepped on him, pushing his shoe against the guy’s neck. ‘I’m talking to you,’ he said. ‘But I guess you ain’t got so much to say now.’
The guy moaned under the pressure of Drake’s shoe.
‘This is what happens when you pick on kids younger than yourself,’ continued Drake. ‘It’s what you get when you attack a defenceless girl. Maybe you’ve learned your lesson now.’ He turned to Aasha. ‘Do you reckon he’s learned his lesson?’
Vijay watched in alarm as his sister slowly shook her head from side to side.
‘Shall I teach him properly?’ asked Drake. He gripped the handle of the wooden bat firmly in both hands.
‘No,’ called Vijay. ‘Leave him, Drake.’
But Drake was waiting for Aasha. All the fear had gone from her now, replaced by a growing look of admiration toward Drake. She nodded silently but resolutely.
‘No!’ begged Vijay again, but it was no use.
Rose laid a freckled hand on his good arm, kindly but firmly. ‘Sometimes people deserve what they get,’ she said.
Drake lifted the baseball bat high and brought it down against the man’s right shoulder. It struck home with a loud crack and the guy screamed. ‘Bet that hurt,’ said Drake. ‘That’s for what you did to me.’ He cracked the bat against the side of a leg, producing another scream. ‘That’s for what you did to my friend.’ Drake nodded in Vijay’s direction. Vijay watched with horror.
Drake tossed the bat on the ground. ‘And this is for what you did to Aasha.’ He kicked hard, driving his shoe into the youth’s side. The dull thud that resulted was somehow worse than the crack of the bat against bone. There was no scream from the youth this time, just a grunt, and a sound like air being squeezed out. Drake kicked again, and again. When the guy stopped making a noise, Drake stopped kicking. He stood in the middle of the alleyway, his fists clenched into tight white balls.
‘I reckon that’s enough,’ said Drake. ‘Didn’t no one ever tell you? Bullies always get what they deserve.’ His shoulders slumped then and the anger seemed to drain away. Suddenly he was just a skinny kid again. He slipped his small pale hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, and walked back toward Vijay, looking shamefaced and tired.
Vijay couldn’t look at his friend’s face. Instead he looked past him to where Liz had stopped. She was leaning against the wall and didn’t seem to have noticed what Drake had done. She was no longer moving. He didn’t think she would be able to fetch an ambulance.
He was wondering what to do about it when he saw something else. Just beyond Liz, at the end of the alleyway, a dog appeared and ran toward her. Not a dog though. It was too big to be a dog. The creature was as big as a large man, with thick black fur and a long snout. In the darkness of the alley, its yellow eyes glowed brightly. The beast ran fast, and as it drew near to Liz, Vijay’s attention shifted to the whiteness of its sharp teeth.
Chapter Eighty
Liz saw the creature as it rounded the corner and entered the alleyway. It bounded toward her on its four strong legs, closing the distance between them rapidly. She leaned against the wall, watching through heavily-lidded eyes as it drew nearer, readying itself to leap. She’d seen its kind before, that night at Ruskin Park when the Beast had attacked Dave Morgan.
This Beast looked different. The first had been smaller, with lighter fur, almost golden. This one had a pelt as black as coal and an enormous body, its huge head anchored by a thick neck, its muscles pumping like pistons as it ran. It was more like a bear than a wolf. And it carried a strange smell, of engine oil and petrol. Its jaws hung open, showing white teeth like daggers.
It slowed as it approached, trotting forward carefully, its hackles raised. It filled the dim alleyway with a deep throaty growl.
Liz pressed herself against the cold, rough wall, every muscle in her body twitching to escape. But she had no strength to run. She needed the wall’s help just to stand.
The wolf padded steadily toward her, sniffing the air. Closer it came, baring its teeth, its long pink tongue drooling saliva. Hot breath steamed before it and those yellow eyes glowed like torches. Liz looked on helplessly.
The creature stopped abruptly, sniffing the ground. Then it stepped forward uncertainly. It came right up to her, its long snout twitching. She waited for it to bite her. She was so tired, she could offer no resistance. But the beast paused, its yellow eyes filled with puzzlement. It stared at her face, measuring her, as the first Beast had done – an unsettlingly human gaze behind those alien eyes. Liz returned its stare calmly. Whatever happened now was up to the wolf.
The creature raised one huge black paw and licked it slowly, almost casually, not once taking its eyes from her face. Then it turned and ran. She watched it continue down the alleyway until it reached the others. Dean, Vijay, Drake, Rose, and the rest. She watched in horror as the monster drew closer to them. When it leaped, she cried out.
Chapter Eighty-One
The wolf ran closer and Vijay couldn’t take his eyes off those white teeth. He had never liked dogs. Their sharp canine teeth and loud aggressive barking made them monsters in his eyes, and he always avoided them. Now the Beast itself was coming for him, and there was no way he could avoid it.
The thug that Drake had beaten lay motionless on the ground, but two of the other vigilantes struggled back to their feet and turned to face the oncoming creature. One clutched a knife. The other brandished the long metal pole he had used to knock the policeman unconscious. He turned the iron bar toward the wolf, like a spear against a cavalry charge.
The wolf flew at him, soaring through the air, its tail outstretched. Its huge head seemed almost big enough to swallow the youth whole. It dodged the pole easily, sweeping past the vigilante’s outstretched arms, and brushed the bar aside.
The jaws of the monster locked around the man’s throat, white teeth slicing savagely. The wolf continued its arc as if nothing had happened, landing gracefully on all fours as the body of the man collapsed to the ground, his neck punctured, head dangling at an impossible angle, blood pumping from severed arteries.
The wolf turned and flew again in a single movement, this time taking the knife wielder. The man barely had enough time to turn his knife arm before he was dead.
The wolf stopped, panting for breath beside its two victims, surveying the survivors with its cold yellow eyes. It circled around them, padding closer and sniffing the ground.
Still Vijay stood mesmerized by its teeth.
‘Vijay!’ Aasha and her friends huddled together beneath the streetlamp. Drake stood next to them, but a hollow look filled his eyes and he seemed incapable of action. He had no weapon but his clenched fists. Rose stood to one side, her pale beauty like a beacon in the darkness. The sight of her made Vijay suddenly brave, and he turned back to look at the Beast.
Cruel golden eyes returned his gaze. He saw no pity in those eyes, only hunger. Yet Vijay stood his ground. Only he stood between the monster and Rose, and he was going nowhere.
The creature’s jaws parted again, and it prepared to leap.
Chapter Eighty-Two
James followed Samuel round a street corner just as another hail of bullets flew past. Brick dust pricked his eyes as the bullets ricocheted off the surrounding buildings and embedded themselves in the brickwork. The armed police followed them relentlessly, their masks and helmets covering their faces, guns in their hands, letting off rounds as they ran. He and Samuel had run all the way from the river seeking to evade their pursuers, but the police came from all directions, more joining from side streets as they ran. Whichever way they turned their path seemed blocked.
‘This way,’ called Samuel. He turned down a small side alley off the main shopping street, James following close behind. As soon as they turned, James smelled wolf.
Samuel stopped abruptly and James ran past him, desperate to escape the rain of bullets. The alleyway smelled strongly of wolf and a second later James saw why. Another werewolf stood in the middle of the dim lane, poised to attack a teenage boy. Behind them huddled a group of girls and another boy. There were bodies strewn along the alleyway, and to his left, a police woman, leaning against a wall. A high brick wall stood at the end of the alleyway, but it was no barrier to a wolf. James could bound it in one leap.
He slowed down and sniffed. The police woman had a strange scent, half-human, half-wolf. She had been bitten or scratched, but had not changed despite the light from the full moon.
He had seen her before. Liz. She had saved his life on Halloween night and been kind to him in the hospital. He padded to her and licked her face, but she didn’t react. Whatever had happened to her, she was totally exhausted.
Instead he turned his attention to the big black wolf. A familiar smell rushed over him. Even in wolf form, Warg Daddy stank of engine oil and leather. James padded forward, Samuel following closely.
Warg Daddy paused in his attack and turned to look at the new arrivals. The teenage boy continued to stand stock still in the middle of the alleyway, his face a mask of terror. James walked up to Warg Daddy and stood before him. The big wolf growled at him, a warning snarl.
In his ear, Samuel hissed. ‘James, we have to run.’
The huge wolf glared at him angrily and gave another warning growl. ‘This prey is mine,’ declared Warg Daddy. ‘Go!’
One of the teenagers gasped when the wolf spoke. A girl, his own age. Long black hair fell in thick curls around her face. She wore a torn black dress, revealing smooth brown skin that glowed like honey under the streetlamp.
Warg Daddy snarled a third time.
James studied his huge head, jaws parted to reveal white teeth and pink tongue. Yellow eyes shone brightly in black fur. Warg Daddy was a wolf now, like James. He should have felt a bond. They were brothers in blood – he, James and Samuel. So why did James feel connected to the kids instead?
Can we count on you, James?
These children were human, not werewolf. But they were teenagers, just like him. How could he hurt them without hurting himself?
He thought of the young woman he had just killed. She had been beautiful. Her beauty had drawn him to her. Her skin so rosy, so pure. He had violated that purity. He had destroyed her innocent beauty.
Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood Page 30