How The Wolf Lost Her Heart
By Sarah Brownlee
Copyright © 2014 Sarah Brownlee
Website: www.sarahbrownleeauthor.com
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/sarahbrownleeauthor
Cover Design by John Muriel: Facebook Fan Page for John Muriel Photography
All rights reserved. The book may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The events and characters portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter One
It began with The Experiment.
Professor Philopias Polgas had been his name. Two centuries ago, in the year 2012, he had invited forty-two people to drink the liquid that gave them the ability to transform into their spirit animal at will. In doing so, they changed the course of mankind forever.
What became of these people, no one knew. It is said that some were killed, hunted down by a secret service within the government, deemed as a threat to normal society. Others, it is rumoured, escaped. And there is truth in this. One of them was Blaise, a fourteen year-old girl at the time. She, along with her brother and her best friend, took part in the experiment. Her spirit animal was the wolf and it is with her that this tale, in essence, begins.
Nobody, not even Professor Philopias Polgas, could have foreseen what would happen years down the line. The ability to transform became embedded in the genes of the experimentees. This gene was passed down from generation to generation, sometimes skipping a few, but ultimately finding a bearer. Suddenly, a new breed of humans existed on the planet: Morphers. Direct descendants of the original forty-two that had taken part in the experiment, they were indistinguishable from normal people, except for that one defining factor that joined them all. The student in the hallway was no different from any other student, except when she transformed into an eagle at night. The manager at the local supermarket was no different to any other manager, apart from when he turned into a cat on his days off. They existed in all countries, all cities, from all walks of life. They were rare, but they were there.
Blaise's children, and grandchildren, all possessed the gene. Then it skipped a few generations – until it found a bearer once more. Two hundred years after the experiment, Skye Archer was born in the City of London, a city that had slowly declined both morally and physically over the course of two centuries. London had been suffering at the hands of an army of thugs for a number of decades now; a place that had once been a desirable destination for tourists was now a pitiful shadow of its former self. Times were tough and the once thriving metropolis was now a jungle where only the strong, smart and vicious survived, and the weak and timid were chewed up and spat out. Law and order had crumbled significantly in the city; decent citizens rarely went out at night and even during the day they weren’t safe. Lord Pearson, who unofficially ruled the majority of East London, was at the heart of the thuggish brutality, which spread far and wide over the city, his clan and family being the main perpetrators. Meanwhile, in West London, Lord Renzo was the only one who directly opposed the thugs and brutes, working in his calm, subtle way to restore what little hope he could for the city.
And smack-bang in the heart of it all was Skye Archer, Morpher and Customer Service employee of Trixaction Cinemas. Sick of her job, which bored and irritated her to no end, it was this thought that solely occupied her mind as she strolled down her local High Street one dismal, grey day in April. She never dreamed for one second that this day would bring a chance encounter with a man who would change her life in ways she didn't know possible ...
“Oi, give us your cash, love!”
Someone banged into her with such force that she almost went flying to the ground. Cursing, she bent over to retrieve her bag, which had flown out of her hands. But almost immediately a foot stamped on the strap.
“I hope you're picking that up to get your money out,” said the same mocking voice that had spoken before.
Skye looked up slowly. Dread set into her heart as she realized, without a doubt, that she was in danger. She gulped as she looked around at the five men who had surrounded her, all of them smiling in a nasty sort of way. The one who had his foot on her bag, and presumably the one who had almost knocked her over, grinned widely. He was rather rough and rugged-looking; Skye noted a nasty scar that ran down his left cheek.
“Well, come on. Hand it over.”
She rose very slowly, trying not to betray the fear she felt inside. She did not know these men, but she knew what they stood for and what they would try to do to her. Everyone in the city knew. Being a Morpher, however, Skye was at the advantage. She was not one who cowered easily and she knew that to show any sign of weakness during a moment like this was the worst possible course of action.
Regarding them in contempt, she spoke coolly.
“No, that’s not something I want to do. Excuse me, I need to get past.”
But they closed in on her and the one with the scar pushed his face into hers so that their noses were practically touching. Several shoppers who witnessed the confrontation hurried on as they walked past. Skye could not believe her bad luck, being targeted by these brutes. She cursed herself for not being more alert. Morphers traditionally had much stronger senses than ordinary people and she should have smelled the danger coming before it happened. She wondered if she ought to take the risk of transforming in public. That would show them, these nasty thugs …
“Well, I suggest you start to want to do it,” sneered the one with the scar. “Because we’re a bit broke right now and need a little help.”
“Well, I can’t help you!” Skye snapped and she forcibly yanked her bag out from under his feet. They reacted instantly, two of them pushing her back, blocking any escape.
She thought desperately. It was broad daylight and there were flurries of people bustling past. A long time ago, there might have been a couple of police officers wandering around to keep an eye on things, but not anymore. Skye tried to stay calm and compose herself. Anyone else in this situation would have been in fear of losing their life, but not her. No, what frightened her was what she would do to these men if she transformed.
Skye had never killed anyone. And she intended to keep it that way.
“I’m warning you,” she growled at the men, while four arms kept her pinned back. The men, however, just yelled with laughter.
“Really?” said the scarred one, an amused glint in his eye. He raised his hand and ran a finger down her cheek; Skye flinched, revolted. “What you going to do?” he whispered.
I’ll show you! Skye thought, enraged.
“OI!”
At the sound of the sudden exclamation, the gang of men and Skye whipped their heads round to see where it had come from. A young man, probably in his early 20s, was charging towards them. He had wide, almond-shaped green eyes, shoulder-length jet-black hair and a strong frame beneath his white shirt.
The stranger stormed aggressively towards the gang, his face menacing.
“Nice one, Pearson. Picking on girls again because you’re too much of a coward to take on anyone your own size?”
The gang’s demeanour shifted from cocky and derisive to cold and rigid. Whoever this man was, Skye noted, he was clearly no friend of theirs and not someone they would take lightly. The sadistic smiles that had been plastered on their faces quickly vanished; it wasn’t long before teeth were bared towards the unwelcome newcomer.
“Move on, Renzo,” glared the scarred one.
But ‘Renzo’ stepped forward.
�
�I don’t think so,” he snarled, pushing his nose right up to the ringleader’s.
“Put it this way, if you and those other fools don’t take your hands off her, I’ll make sure you’ve got no hands left.”
Pearson, though his whole sturdy frame was visibly icy, laughed out loud in contempt.
“You sure you want to be doing that, Renzo? We’ve got a mutual agreement with your lot. Any dumb act you do now would completely destroy that. And it’d be your fault, trust me.”
“So be it.”
To Skye’s shock, Renzo’s piercing green eyes switched colour and flashed bright orange. He shoved the scarred man’s shoulder so hard that the man’s hand almost knocked Skye round the face.
Skye, her heart still thudding uncontrollably, fully expected all hell to break loose; she braced herself. However, much to her surprise, the gang did not fight back. The hands released her from their grip and all five men backed away like hissing hyenas, glaring in sheer hatred at the one man who stood before them, whose eyes still blazed a brilliant orange.
“You might be a Morpher, Renzo, but that don’t mean we won’t creep up behind you one day and set fire to your little tail. Watch your back, kitty cat. We’ll be seeing you, that’s a promise.”
He’s a Morpher! thought Skye, amazed, thinking she should have realized it straight-away as soon as his eyes switched colour.
The one with the scar gestured to his gang and they stormed off down the road, bashing into people as they went. Skye was left alone with the man, who turned to her with an apologetic, anxious look on his face, his eyes now a sparkling green, his pupils back to their regular size.
“Are you OK?” he said, moving towards her with a concerned, out-stretched hand.
But Skye, who was slightly shaken by the ordeal and not one who was particularly friendly when she was afraid, rejected his hand and shook herself.
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
Taken aback by her abruptness, the man said,
“You know who those guys are, right?”
“Some random thugs?”
“Not just any thugs. Pearson, the ugly one with the scar, well, his dad pretty much runs the whole of East London. They’re notorious for the stunts they pull on people. They could have done you some serious damage …”
“Doubt it. But thanks, you’re my hero.”
The sarcasm in her voice did not go unnoticed by Renzo. The concern left his face and was replaced with an affronted expression.
“Doubt it? Seriously? A girl like you … They would have done a lot worse than take a bit of cash off you. It’s lucky I was passing through the area.”
There was a definite tone of resentment in his voice now, but Skye didn’t care. She was not one to glorify knights in shining armour, especially not ones who were on speaking terms with those thugs; and besides, despite the fear she’d felt, which always came automatically to her whenever she found herself mixed up in confrontation, she really would have been able to look after herself.
“Like I said, you’re my hero.”
“You know, a simple thank you would do.” The man frowned.
“I said thanks, remember? What do you want, a medal?”
Renzo stared at her in astonishment.
“Is there a reason why you’re being so rude?”
“Erm, well, let’s see. I just got cornered by a bunch of guys who wanted to steal my money and then, according to you, would have probably dragged me to a back alley and had their wicked way with me. Then the hero of the day strolls in and saves me from a fate worse than death. It’s been a bit of a nasty experience; I think I’m entitled to a little rudeness, don’t you?”
“Not to the one who actually saved your pretty little behind from being ravaged by those scum.”
Skye felt herself flare up and before she could stop herself, she snapped,
“Let’s get this straight – you did not save me!”
“Thought you just said I was your hero?” smiled the young man; whether he was riled or amused was unclear.
“Yes – in the most sarcastic way possible, I said you were my hero. You’re not the only one who’s special,” she blurted out, immediately regretting it.
Renzo’s bright green eyes widened.
“What do you mean?”
“Urgh – look, I have to get going. Seriously – thanks for wading in and saving me. It means a lot. Bye.”
She hurried off down the road, cursing herself for her big mouth. If there was one thing she tried to keep secret at all times it was the fact that she had the ability to morph into an animal.
From a young age, Skye had been able to transform into a wolf at will. Her spirit animal was the same as her ancestor's, the first one to possess the power to morph. However, Morphers such as herself were rare. And they were born, not made. Their presence was accepted in society, with some even revering them for their ability, but the stigma attached to being a Morpher sometimes affected people’s immediate impressions of them. Skye learned a long time ago that advertising it was a bad idea; there were many who feared Morphers and cast automatic judgements on them. Skye liked to believe that she didn’t care what the majority of people thought, but she still preferred not to suffer the hurt when others discovered she was a Morpher and immediately started gossiping and whispering about her.
To meet another Morpher was quite a significant event as they rarely came across one another. But Skye had no interest in acquainting herself with a fellow Morpher, no matter how unusual it was to stumble upon one.
“Hey! Hey, wait!”
Great, he’s following me, Skye thought with a groan.
“I really am in a rush,” she said hurriedly, speeding up as the young man fell in line beside her.
“Yeah? Where you off to in such a hurry?”
“Got to, erm, buy a present for my mum. It’s her birthday – today – no time to waste.”
“Think I might join you. It’s my dad’s birthday – today – no time to waste either.” He grinned down at her, showing pearly white teeth, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I’m Raphael, by the way.”
Skye sighed.
“Thought your name was Renzo.”
“That’s my last name. You should know the thugs all call each other by their surnames.”
“So you are a thug then?”
Raphael frowned.
“No … not like them. So, you got a name?”
“Skye.”
“Nice name. You fancy grabbing a coffee after we’ve brought the presents for our parents?”
Skye stopped in her tracks and turned warily to face him. She had a strong suspicion he was coming onto her.
“Look,” she said, “I’m really flattered you want to take me out. But the truth is, I’m not really interested in guys right now, I have so many important things I need to think about –”
She was cut off by Raphael’s roar of laughter.
“I’m not interested in dating you, sweetheart, believe me!”
Skye blushed a deep crimson, feeling hugely embarrassed and realizing her assumptions had got the better of her. Obviously, she scolded herself, he had only been following her because of what she had revealed with her big fat mouth! She wasn’t sure why she thought he had been attracted to her, especially as (she had to admit) he was actually very good-looking when she got a good look at him. His eyes were a remarkable shape and deep green; he had a straight nose, strong jaw and his body was toned and sculpted. His jet black hair hung carelessly about his shoulders. He was definitely out of her league in terms of appearance and her own presumption caused her to feel rather mortified. Skye had always considered herself to be rather average-looking, not really the type of girl that guys like him went for. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest girl out there, but did he have to be so abrasive about it?
Still, she thought, it’s your own fault for jumping to that conclusion!
“Well,” she said stiffly, trying to hide her humiliation as he continued to chor
tle, “the feeling’s mutual. Now, if you don’t mind, I have some shopping to do.”
“Hey – come on! I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”
He reached out to her and clasped her hand in his. Shocked by his forwardness, still embarrassed by her own postulations and yet (surprisingly) strangely endeared to his touch, Skye didn’t move or speak, but stared into his piercing green eyes in an almost mutinous manner.
“Look, I’d like to get to know you. Just to chat. It’s what you said back there … Are you a Morpher? I had a weird feeling about you as soon as I saw you ...”
“Alright, yes,” hissed Skye, “I am a Morpher. But keep your voice down!”
“Wow! I’ve never met another one before. I’d be thrilled – honoured even – if you’d think about being friends?”
Skye removed her hand from his grip, composing her dignity and clearing her throat.
“Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure you and me would make good friends to be honest.”
Raphael grinned.
“Come on – you were rude to me, I was rude to you. We’re even.”
“Oh, whatever; you want to be friends, we’ll be friends.”
“Unless you’re hoping for something more?” said the young man, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“I assure you I’m not,” Skye snapped, glowering at him.
“So how about that coffee?”
“Yes … well, I prefer tea, but coffee will do. But not today, I honestly can’t. I have to get home. It’ll have to be another time. Plus, I was thinking of getting my mum’s present from this little shop near my house, it’ll be less hectic than shopping in the town centre …”
The disappointment showed plainly on Raphael’s finely-carved features, but he eventually resigned himself.
“OK fine. This means you at least have to give me your tag number so I can contact you again.”
Reluctantly, Skye informed Raphael of her tag number. Tag devices had replaced the ancient mobile phones from years back; each individual was assigned a tag number and whenever someone wanted to contact another, they simply said their name aloud into the tag device. A holograph of the person’s face would also pop up in the air once they answered so that it was as though the conversationalists were speaking face to face.
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