“I don’t care what you say, I’d feel a lot safer in a room full of dogs than in the woods with a pack of wolves. I still think they’re evil. It’s just an opinion, you can’t change it.”
I shrugged again. “If the world had an open mind, they might accept them. Instead we’ve hunted them to near extinction. Just don’t be so quick to judge, that’s all I’m saying.”
"Yeah well, you can't defend them after what the rogue wolf has done. Those bodies were horrible, don't tell me the victims died painlessly and their deaths weren't violent."
"That was no wolf," I said darkly.
"Oh, so you've seen the beast have you?" she asked disbelievingly.
"Yes, I've seen it," I said quietly. Every time I look in the mirror, I thought silently.
“So what is it then if it isn’t a wolf?”
“It’s not a wolf, it’s a monster.”
She searched my eyes to find whether it was true or not. “Have you been to the police?”
I hesitated, unsure what to say. “I’m not sure they’d believe me.”
“Nick, you have to go to the police! It could help them save lives. You have to go to them,” she urged me.
Someone called to her from across the room, saving me from answering. She looked at me again, probably unsure of whether to believe me herself, and then went over to her friend. I turned back round to face the table and jumped when I found David stood at the other side of me, a madness in his eyes. I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me, too focussed on the debate with Grace.
“You know what killed Fiona.” It wasn’t a question. “Tell me. Tell me how to kill the son of a bitch. Was it that same beast that attacked us that night after the film?”
I shook my head. “Don’t get messed up in this David. Or you’ll go the same way she did. She wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“I have to know what did it,” he said, breathing heavily, angrily. I knew he’d taken it badly but I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Had he really loved her that much? Guilt stirred within. What did I know about it anyway? I’d never understood romance.
“A monster, that’s all I can tell you. I don’t know what it was, but I tell you now it wasn’t a wolf. It’ll kill you if you go after it David. Please, forget about it. For me. We’re still mates aren’t we? Fiona’s death doesn’t change that. Leave it to the experts. They’ll already have people hunting it. It’ll die eventually,” I convinced him. The lies came so naturally, I almost convinced myself. For a second a different reality existed, one where I was human and I knew as little about it as David did. The fantasy faded as soon as it came. David believed it though.
“I can’t forget it man,” he told me with a shake of his head, and walked back to his seat just before Mr Enderson walked into the room and the lesson started. I soon forgot about him when I was faced with my own pain again. After all, he’d get over her death eventually. He didn’t have to deal with the knowledge that he was the one who’d killed her, and a whole lot of other people. He didn’t have to face an eternity of blood and death.
Chapter Fourteen
Unholy Night
Christmas came; my sixteenth birthday. It would have passed unnoticed if it hadn’t been for the wolf.
My family were trying to make it a festive time, but it was too soon after Mel’s disappearance. Her family wouldn’t be celebrating. Amy was still grieving. Everyone had given up what little hope there was to start with. Once the savaged bodies had turned up after Fiona’s death, there wasn’t much hope left for missing people. No one could know how long the beast had been stalking the streets. For that matter, I didn’t know myself. Who knew how many the werewolf before me had killed, and the rest of his pack mates when they’d been alive? They might even have enjoyed it. But they’d been better at hiding the bodies than me, otherwise I’d have heard about some kind of wild animal loose in the town, even if I didn’t pay attention to the news. People at school would have talked. Or maybe he just hadn’t been in the town long before he bit me, and there had been bodies elsewhere in the country. If that was the case I should probably be grateful he hadn’t turned up any sooner to pass on his wretched curse.
Mum and Dad weren’t too worried about Amy. She needed time to grieve. They were worried about me, and I couldn’t blame them. Mum had been really worried when I’d first become so gaunt you could see my skull. It seemed only a matter of time until I wasted away to the point where there was nothing left of me but skin stretched tightly across the bones. They kept threatening to take me to a doctor but so far I’d avoided it. I didn’t know how much longer I could go on avoiding it though. I’d worry about that when the time came.
They weren’t going to let me forget what day it was. We opened presents as usual and Mum cooked a turkey with all the trimmings. What little I ate I almost threw up again. Even Dad forced himself to stay in a good mood in an effort to try and cheer me up. And all I could think of was the bitter irony of it all for one of the Devil’s creatures to be born on the same day as the son of God. I’d never really been religious but I still couldn’t help thinking about that, and I was starting to accept the fact that God might exist. Satan did, I was convinced of it.
I was glad when evening came and I was able to escape from them. Even if I wasn’t depressed, it wouldn’t have felt right, the forced festivities. The day didn’t seem that special anymore, and I knew it would never be the same again.
Bidding my parents goodnight, I climbed into bed, but as soon as my head hit the pillow the images threatened to overpower me as usual and make me relive the horrors the wolf had shown me. It was enough to have me wandering the streets again.
As soon as I opened the window I felt the bitter cold invading the warmth of my room. For most of the day it had snowed, and as it grew dark temperatures reached below freezing. I shivered and had second thoughts about the wisdom in venturing out into the cold, but I knew I would rather face the cold than the nightmares, so, after quickly changing back into the clothes I had worn that day and pulling on my trainers, I sprang out of the window and landed on the snow covered ground.
I began walking down the street, the fairy lights on Christmas trees twinkling at me from behind almost every window. The elements seemed set on driving me away again; the howling wind raged against me, driving snow into my eyes and face which felt so cold it stung my bare flesh. Ice lay across the pavements and road where a few people had walked that day, causing me to skid a few times. The snow on the ground was deep enough to slow me down as well, and consequently every part of my body was soon chilled to the bone. My fingers were the first part to become so numb as to be practically useless, and the numbness spread up my hand. If the cold continued to creep up my limbs and into the rest of my body, by the end of the night I would freeze to death. I welcomed the thought of that and pressed onwards.
I had not gone far when a strong scent was carried to me by the wind. I froze as the smell entered my nostrils and travelled directly to my brain, awakening the beast that lurked therein. I was too weak from the cold and weariness to fight back and all I could do was stand there as the inevitable transformation began...
Blood. It called to me on the wind and gave me the power to take control for a while. I tore off the last of the human clothing and stood on the blanket of snow. The toughened flesh of my pads was not particularly sensitive, and the cold didn’t bother me as I prowled down the wintry streets.
The hunger was more powerful than usual. It didn’t help that the human was not eating. And it made our wolf form gaunter. Fewer muscles rippled across my body and my ribs poked out on either side from beneath my skin.
The scent of blood came again, stronger this time. I bounded forward to explore and soon found the thing that had called me into consciousness.
A newborn baby lay in the snow, frozen over, its skin tinged with blue. There was a deep gash in the side of its head, and, looking closer, I found its skull was smashed open. What I could see of the tiny form was b
athed in its own blood, and nuzzling the snow away that had settled on it I learnt that its killer had not been content with merely killing it; it had been tortured first. One arm was broken and cuts covered its body. Its mouth was twisted into an everlasting scream of agony. My hatred for humans grew. They dared to call us evil when they could take an innocent life so cruelly. I touched the small body with a paw as big as its head.
"May you find peace, little one," I said quietly.
I took my leave and went in search of food, but as I did so I vowed never to forget so pointless and brutal an act. I could honour the life that was over before it begun by remembering it. I could do that much at least.
Hunger gnawed at me as I roamed the streets, driving me onwards. Of course, I could have eaten the baby, if it hadn’t been for the fact it was frozen over. Besides, even if it hadn't been frozen it would not have filled the gaping pit in my stomach. So I searched for more appetising prey. But there were no humans outside, not on Christmas night, and their pets were inside with them. I wandered every street, snowmen glaring at me from each garden, cold, silent guardians over the households, but my search was in vain. Even the centre of the town was devoid of life, the nightclubs and fast food restaurants shut.
Giving up hope of eating that night, I turned away from the town centre and made my way back home. There weren't even any cars about, just the stench of their foul fumes which clung to my nostrils and lingered there.
Wandering up a street where there was a vets to which the human had once taken its snake, I noticed part of one of the buildings was boarded up. Had it not been for a hole in the wood through which a scent came to me, I would have continued walking without giving it a second glance. But the unmistakeable smell brought me to a standstill, nose twitching.
The floor inside was littered with beer bottles and the smell of the alcohol was almost overwhelming, but just underlying that was the faint smell of prey: a human, male, and very young. My senses told me he was a child, no more than eight years of age.
I could see him curled up in the corner with an old blanket wrapped around him. I didn't know what he was doing there but at that moment I didn't care – the hunger consumed me. However, the hole was too small for me to fit in. I snarled angrily and the boy looked up, suddenly afraid. I could see the terror in his face as he beheld the fearsome sight I presented. My gaping jaws were probably all that was visible to him, drool dripping from between the fangs as my breath steamed out, like a scene out of one of the movies I had watched as a human.
I ripped through the wood to reach him. It didn't take long to make the hole wide enough for me to squeeze into, and I did so eagerly.
The boy screamed and tried to crawl away as I advanced, hoping to slip past me and make it back through the hole and escape, but he stood no chance. I was on him in seconds.
I killed the child by ripping out his throat, and then ripped open his chest, hungrily devouring the flesh and his heart, still warm. I dragged him outside, feeling claustrophobic in the small, enclosed space that had been his home, and continued to feed.
Blood on the snow, staining it red. Other fluids mixed with the blood until the pure white was stained almost black. Humans considered it as some kind of holy day. I knew it would have caused an outrage if they knew what I’d done. Would it anger the Slayers, spur them on to greater efforts to hunt me down? I was lucky not to have come across anymore since the first night I’d transformed. Perhaps Lady Sarah had scared them off for the time being when she killed so many of them at once.
My meal finished, I slunk away. My hunger was not satisfied, but I’d taken the edge off it, and the moon was not full; I was not bound to it. I didn’t want to change back so soon, knowing I would face near oblivion until the moon called me back weeks later, but it was safer to be human.
Minutes later I was back in my room, giving in to the transformation.
Chapter Fifteen
Descent Into Madness
People looked to the New Year with hope. Amy was slowly recovering from the loss of Mel. She was returning to her old self. Mum and Dad were hoping the holiday season would have the same effect on me. Pity the boy they knew was dead.
I was angry at the wolf for killing on Christmas night. It made it worse somehow. I might not have believed in the Christmas spirit anymore, but most other people did. I didn’t know who or what the wolf had killed that night, I only knew that it had and its prey had most likely been human. It had taken someone away from their family at the one time of year when families came together. If I’d known it had killed a homeless boy would that have made it better? I don’t know. I only know that I hated the wolf for making me kill on that holy night, when everyone should have been celebrating the birth of Christ, not mourning the death of a loved one.
Before I knew it, the next full moon was almost upon us. That night, I left the house, not wanting to risk the wolf killing family this time. If the wolf killed one of them the grief and the guilt I had known so far would be as nothing compared to what I would feel at their death.
The change was almost upon me. In despair and depression, I’d even tried turning to God for help, despite what I may have said about Him when I had been human. I’d tried praying to Him, asking for His forgiveness for my sins, asking Him to cure me of my curse and save me from my fate. If He heard, He didn’t bother to reply. I wondered if I was being punished for what I’d dared to say to Lizzy before all this had started.
“God!” I roared at the sky while I still had a human voice. “God, are you listening to me? Why have you forsaken me?”
I waited for an answer, but the world was quiet. The sky above was still, dead and empty, save for the moon glaring down at me, devoid of any Heavenly signs.
“God! Answer me! Why am I being punished? What did I ever do to deserve this? Why me? Why must I suffer?”
Still there was no answer.
“Fuck you then,” I snarled. “Don’t answer. I don’t care.”
But I did care about this, whatever I may have told myself. If the Devil really did exist, I assumed that meant God was for real too. What had I done to deserve this fate? Was I being punished for something in another life? Or was it that God really didn’t give a damn about what happened to us mortals? I didn’t know, and I didn’t know which I wanted to believe. Then the wolf took over and I embraced oblivion.
The next thing I knew I was lying face down in the snow, feeling the cold slowly creeping up my body, my mouth cold and dry. I could barely feel my fingers stretched out before me, but with effort I managed to flex them, and the movement brought some life back. I couldn’t say the same for my toes. I tried to move them but couldn’t feel anything. The gruesome thought crossed my mind that they may no longer be attached to my foot. Even more disturbing – or at least it should have been – was the fact that I found I didn’t care. They could have been lying by my body in the snow, frozen and dead, and I didn’t give a damn. I didn’t know how long I’d lain there, but I knew I had to move.
I was burning with hunger. Moving was hard, and not just because of the cold. I felt weak, so weak I could barely crawl over the snow. The wolf hadn’t fed that night. It had collapsed where I now lay and the transformation had left me feeling like I was dying of starvation. I hadn’t been eating much since Fiona’s death, but I’d never felt anything like this. Why had it left me so weak? It didn’t matter right then. What mattered was getting somewhere warm before I died of exposure, if that was possible for a werewolf. I already knew I couldn’t commit suicide, for my family’s sake, and letting myself die out there wasn’t much better. I had to at least try to save myself.
I forced my freezing, starved limbs into action. Weakly I managed to crawl down the street. I didn’t even know where I was going, I just knew I had to keep moving before the cold robbed me of what little strength I had left.
A car raced past, too fast to see either me or the luckless pigeon in the middle of the road. The front left wheel went straight over the bir
d just as it tried to fly away, and its life ended in a splatter of blood and feathers, flattened flesh and crushed bones. I stared at the roadkill, ravenous, and without thinking crawled over to it, the smell of fresh death spurring me on. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d pried the body from the tarmac where it had stuck like glue, the flesh almost one with the road. Blood dripped onto the ground as I raised the small chunk of squashed meat to my mouth and bit it in half.
The taste of raw meat brought me to my senses. I realised what I was doing and spat flesh and blood into the snow as if it was poison. I’d involuntarily swallowed some of it. My stomach heaved and I dropped the carcass, retching. The flesh looked worse now it was covered in bile. As soon as I was able, I crawled back over to the pavement and collapsed again, feeling weaker than before. The full realisation of the situation hit me. I was crawling through the streets naked, too weak to stand. How was I going to explain this to any passersby, or my parents if I made it that far? I was lucky it was a Sunday and the world was quiet so early in the morning. At least I knew where I was now. The bird had done one thing for me; it had awoken me to my senses and now I knew I was on my street. My house was just round the corner, though it felt like miles in my weakened state.
Finally I managed to pull my numb, freezing body, which was rapidly becoming no more than dead weight, to the side door so that I was out of sight of the neighbours. The last of my strength spent, I couldn’t even raise my fist to knock on the door. I closed my eyes and lay there in the snow, hoping someone found me soon before it was too late.
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