Werewolves of the Other London

by Amy Cross

  There was a part of me that had hoped the priest would prove me wrong. That he would summon up the faith from somewhere, that he would reach a moment of realization and that he would show me his pure and genuine heart. But no. He failed. His faith was a show, an act of obsessive tradition. I have met priests who had real faith. They are among the only humans I trust and respect. And it is this trust and respect that makes me hate the false priests all the more.

  I stand up. Still in my human form, I step into the patch of moonlight that lights up part of the room. On the floor before me, the remains of the priest are strewn about. I really ripped him apart, even though I chose not to eat him. I was fueled by pure rage, by pure anger... and by a desire to understand how it feels to kill an innocent. After all, if I am to take on the humans, I must learn to think like them. I must learn to know their experiences, to recognize what it is like to do the things that they do. They killed innocents, so I must kill innocents. Now that I have done so, I have begun to understand everything. I have peered into their dark hearts.

  It is time to leave this church. It is time to go to the heart of this city and rip apart every human I find. Only then, when the truth about this violent world is presented to them, will the humans understand how their civilization has been built upon the blood of the werewolves. And then they will face two choices : either they will accept their own evil and embrace their cruelty, or they will turn against their leaders and seek peace. Either way, their world is about to change forever.

  Standing there in the middle of the church, I raise my arms and look to the ceiling. I am going to save the world.

  Jess

  Duncan walks and walks through the dark, lonely streets of night-time Edinburgh, and I have no option but to follow at a discreet distance. I'm pretty sure that he hasn't realized I'm here. He probably thinks I'm sulking back at the hotel. But I can't let him be out here alone, and I won't let him force me to sit at home like a good little girl while he goes out to face danger. Also, I don't really trust him when he's in this frame of mind. I'm worried he might do something stupid that makes things worse.

  After a couple of hours, things seem desperate. Duncan cuts such a forlorn figure ahead of me, his silhouette moving from shadow to shadow. This seems like such a lonely, pointless quest. He's determined to prove that there's no werewolf terrorizing the people of Edinburgh, yet I can't help remembering what Alex said... What if there really is a werewolf doing all these things? I'm not sure Duncan can handle it if Alex turns out to be right.

  Suddenly there's a scream. Somewhere in the distance, but not too far. Duncan immediately starts running, and I run to keep up with him. Moments later there's another scream, a blood-curdling cry that seems to fill the night. Keeping track of Duncan, I follow him into a dark side-street where we find a shocking sight: a man has a woman forced against a wall, and he's ripping her clothes off while holding a knife to her neck.

  Duncan immediately races to the man and pulls him away, then slams his head directly into a wall. There's no struggle, no fight, just a sickening crunch as the man's skull collapses, and then Duncan lets him drop to the ground. Smooth, quick and clinical, it's a completely unequal fight, and it's over in seconds. Then, almost in slow motion, part of the man's head seems to fall off, and a pool of blood starts to gather across the dark ground.

  Duncan stands over him. He hasn't even broken a sweat.

  I run to try to help the woman, but she's already gathered her things and run off into the night. Chasing after her seems like a lost cause, especially now that Duncan is looking directly at me.

  "You followed me," he says.

  I nod. "I was worried about you."

  He sighs, then he looks down at the dead man at his feet. "This isn't the guy," he says eventually. "This isn't the one who's been faking the werewolf attacks. This is just..." He kicks the man's body. "This is just some opportunist who thought he'd take advantage of the quiet streets. Typical fucking violent human." He looks at me. "Go back to the hotel, Jess. This is -"

  "What?" I ask. "What is it about this that makes it so impossible for me to be involved? It's none of my business? Too dangerous?"

  "You're not a wolf yet," Duncan replies. "Not fully. You're still... halfway. I don't know if you can handle things like this yet, I don't know your limits. I can't ask you to risk your life like this, to -."

  "You're not asking me," I say. "I'm choosing to do what I think is right."

  Duncan's about to reply, when there's another scream nearby. A softer scream, more muffled, and male, but still a scream of pain and fear. Then another.

  We head along to the next street, trying to locate the source of the noise. Then we hear a third scream, but this one sounds more like a death rattle. We run to the next street corner, and that's when we see it: in the middle of a small street, a man is flat on his back in a patch of moonlight, his chest being ripped apart by a wolf.

  "It's him!" I shout, racing forwards.

  The wolf looks up at me. It's so dark in this street, I can't make out the wolf's features, but I can tell it's staring at me. It's a strange, eerie moment as I come face to face with something that is in the process of killing. The wolf turns its head slightly, and I see that pieces of the dead man's flesh are hanging from the creature's jaws. It's a horrific, but also kind of noble, sight.

  I suddenly realize Duncan isn't with me. I turn and see that he's rooted to the spot, just staring at the creature.

  "Come on!" I shout to him.

  He just stares. It's as if he can't believe what he's seeing. He was so sure that stories of a killer wolf were propaganda spread by humans, but Alex was right: it's a real wolf, killing indiscriminately on the streets of Edinburgh.

  I turn to look at the wolf. There's a moment when nothing happens, with the silhouette of the other wolf just staring at me. And then, with no warning, it turns and it runs away.

  "Duncan!" I shout, but Duncan still doesn't do anything.

  I shift into my wolf form and take off after the other wolf, following it through a series of dark streets. It's a fast creature and I can barely keep up as it leaps over walls and tries to lose me by bolting through dark alleys. But I stay on its tail, just about, even when we run past a pub with people outside and they shout at us, one of them even trying to grab me.

  We run and we run. Across the city, and then through the outskirts of the city. For miles and miles. It feels as if we'll never stop running. I glance back a couple of times, hoping to see Duncan right behind me. But he's not there. He froze in shock and now we've gone too far. I can sense his presence getting further and further away, as if he can't - or won't - try to follow us.

  Away from the city now, we're in an area of countryside, with the lights of the city shining in the distance. I glance over my shoulder for a moment, one last desperate chance to see if Duncan might be coming, but there's no sign of him. Looking ahead again, I suddenly realize that I can't see the other wolf. Frantically, I scan the horizon, hoping for some sign of it. I stop running and try to see where it is. I can't have lost it. It has to be -

  Suddenly I realize that there's something behind me. I turn to my left and see the other wolf standing there, watching me. I move to within a few meters of it. Slowly, the other wolf shifts into its human form, but with the light of the moon behind it, it's still hard to make out any features.

  I shift into my human form and wait for it to speak.

  "It's okay," I say. "I understand. But... you can't keep killing humans like this. You're giving them an excuse to hunt us all down. You're playing into their hands, don't you see that?"

  The dark silhouette just stares at me. There's something deeply unnerving about having this dark, unpredictable figure so close. If it can kill so many humans, who's to say it wouldn't also decide to turn on a fellow werewolf?

  "Please," I say, "try to understand. Try not to let anger consume you. I know what humans have been doing to werewolves, but this... killing humans doesn't help." />
  The silhouette takes a step toward me. Part of me thinks it might be wise to run, to get away from here. Perhaps this wolf is insane, perhaps it can't control its anger and its rage?

  "I'm like you," I say, careful to watch out for any sudden movements. "We're the same. We live in the same world, and we..." I pause for a moment, trying to work out what to say. "If you keep killing humans like this, you'll make it easier and easier for them to claim they have to kill us all. They've already started spreading a disease that can wipe us out. If you keep killing them, they'll attack us all. You're doing what they want. You're playing into their hands."

  "I know," says the silhouette, stepping toward me again, close enough that I can see its face.

  I step back in shock.

  "I'm so sorry," Darla says.

  Jess

  "Darla," I say. "What..." I step toward her, but there's a look in her eyes like... like it's not really her at all. She's staring at me as if I'm a stranger, as if any moment she might run at me and try to kill me, to add me to her list of victims. "Darla, why... Why are you doing this?" I ask.

  She looks down at the ground for a moment. It's hard to tell if this is really Darla, or if the Darla that I know has somehow been taken over by a new personality. I can't believe that the real Darla - my Darla - would ever do these things, would ever kill people in cold blood like this.

  "Darla -" I say.

  "I know," she replies, and I can tell from the sound of her voice that this is still the Darla that I know, that she's still the same person. The only difference is that she's done these things, she's killed these people and... The last time I saw her, she was going home, back to the carnival.

  "What happened?" I ask.

  "I'm..." She paused again. "I went home," she says, her voice stuttering. "Back to the carnival, and... When I got there, they were all dead."

  My heart sinks. "All of them?" I ask.

  "All of them," she replies. "Killed by humans."

  "You don't know that for sure," I say.

  "Yes, I do," she continues. "There was one survivor, at least for a short time." She takes a breath. "Mena was still alive when I got there. Injured, but alive. She told me what happened. And then..."

  "What?" I ask. "Is Mena okay?"

  Darla shakes her head. "She's dead," she says. "And Stephen. And Allegra. And... even Vigrous Grinde himself. All dead. All slaughtered by the humans like... like common animals. Left to rot in their own blood. Ground up so that they couldn't recover. Crushed like vermin."

  I don't know what to say to her. The thought that all those people, all those good people, have been killed... It's almost impossible to believe. How can such a thing happen? How can humans kill so many people? And Mena... I planned to go back and see her some day, to spend time with her, to get to know her. Part of me even thought that one day I'd find a way to get her back to the ocean, so that she could be free again. And now... they're all dead.

  "The humans killed my new family," Darla says slowly. "Just like they killed my first family."

  "What happened?" I ask.

  She smiles weakly. "It was many years ago," she says. "The humans attacked out pack because we refused to go to the Scottish estate. We wanted to stay where we were. So they stormed in and killed everyone. I was just a child, but I managed to escape. I don't know how, but I slipped away. The whole of my family were killed. It took years before I was able to find anyone else, when the carnival took me in." She's close to tears now, and for a moment it seems as if she's lost in her own world, a world filled with dark memories. "I finally found a second family," she says quietly, "and what happened? The humans took them as well. They couldn't let me be happy."

  "Like Duncan," I say quietly.

  "What?" she asks.

  "Duncan's family were killed by humans as well," I say. "Where was your family?"

  "Kent," she says.

  "Not the same pack as Duncan's, then," I say.

  Darla shakes her head. "There were so many packs, spread across the country. They destroyed them all. They said we had to go to the Scottish estate, or we'd have to take the consequences. A lot of the packs agreed. They moved north and went to live on the estate. But my father insisted that he had to stay, he said that there was no way the humans would kill so many of us. He seemed so sure. I always believed my father, about everything. But this time, he was wrong. Very wrong."

  I try to assimilate all of this, to understand how this tragedy from years ago, coupled with another tragedy more recently, could have pushed my friend so far over the edge. It's as if the scar runs so deep in her soul, there's nothing she can do to get rid of it. She was able to hide it, perhaps, until the carnival was attacked. But now she's unable to do anything other than let her past create dark, bitter currents in her heart. There's a real danger that she's becoming lost to this nightmare, a real danger that the old Darla, the Darla that I knew and who traveled to the Underworld with me, is being destroyed by this new Darla who wants to do nothing but take revenge for past tragedies.

  "You killed people, Darla," I say. "You killed innocent humans. A baby -"

  "The baby's still alive," Darla says. There's suddenly passion in her eyes, as if she's angry at me. "Do you think I'd kill a baby? Seriously, darling, come on. I'm not that bad. I... I didn't mean to take the baby, I just panicked. He's safe."

  "Are you going to give him back?" I ask.

  She doesn't say anything for a moment. "I'm still working out what to do," she says. "I don't really have a plan. I have to think and come up with something."

  I step toward her. "Listen, Darla. Duncan and I are going up to the Scottish estate. You have to come with us. We'll be safe there."

  "You believe that?" she spits back at me. "The humans promise not to attack. Again? And you actually believe that?"

  "Yes," I say. "The humans..." I pause. It feels so weird to be referring to 'the humans' as if I'm not one of them anymore. "The humans won't attack us on the estate."

  Darla stares at me. "You're so fucking naive, Jess," she says. "Of course they'll attack us on the estate. They'll attack us everywhere. Anywhere that suits them. They won't be happy until we've been wiped out. They're pushing us back, mile by mile, giving us smaller and smaller places to live, and then finally they'll just decide there's no point even pretending to care about us anymore. There's even a disease -"

  "I know," I say. "We met someone who died from it."

  "Who?" Darla asks.

  "His name was..." I try to remember. "Garvey," I say eventually.

  I can see, instantly, the sadness pass across Darla's face. "Garvey's dead?" she says, her voice shaking.

  "You knew him?" I ask.

  She doesn't reply.

  "I'm sorry, Darla," I say. I reach out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away. "Darla, listen to me. We have to be smart here. If you keep killing humans, they'll have an excuse to kill all of us. And if you stay around Edinburgh, they'll get you eventually. They'll kill you."

  "Garvey was a good wolf," Darla says, fighting back tears. "You see? Every time I think they've done their worst, the humans go and do something new. They won't stop. They'll never stop."

  "Listen -" I say, trying to put my hand on her shoulder. But she interrupts me, pushing me away.

  "Get back," she says. There's anger in her eyes, real rage. "If you try to stop me, I swear to God I'll kill you. This isn't a game. You've got the body of a werewolf, but you're still thinking like a human. You're not one of us. Not really. You never will be." She shifts into her wolf form, turns and runs.

  I shift and follow her, but she's running so fast, it's hard to keep up. We run and run, up hills and down into valleys, and eventually - perhaps for the first time since I became a werewolf - I find myself tiring. I'm not sure I can keep up with her. I push on, determined to keep going, determined not to let her escape, but eventually we start running down another valley and I trip, falling and landing against a rock. There's a brief, sharp pain in
my leg, and I worry that I'm injured, but I also know that my bones will mend easily and that it shouldn't be a problem.

  I get to my feet, but already Darla is long gone. I scan the valley ahead, but I can't see her at all. I failed. I lost her. There, that's the real problem here.

  "Are you okay?" asks a familiar voice behind me.

  I turn to find Duncan, in his human form, just a few feet away. He has a look of concern in his eyes.

  Shifting into my human form, I take a deep breath. "How did you find us?" I ask. I hadn't heard him coming up behind us, I had no idea he'd even managed to catch up with me after I left Edinburgh.

  "I followed your scent," he says. "Was that Darla?"

  I nod. "She's gone crazy. She's the wolf from the city, but -" I look out across the dark valley. "I lost her."

  Duncan stares into the darkness. "There's a church," he says. "It's the only building for miles."

  I follow his gaze, and finally I spot the little church nestled between some trees. "She said the baby is safe," I say. "She said she hadn't killed it."

  "Come on," Duncan says, and he starts walking toward the depths of the valley.

  I open my mouth to ask what we're going to do, but then I decide to just follow in silence. I'm pretty sure I know exactly what Duncan's planning. And the truth is, if I can't make Darla see reason, I don't see how we have any choice but to kill her. I guess I'm finally thinking more like a werewolf and less like a human after all.

  Jess

  The church is dark and seems totally abandoned. As Duncan and I walk through the cemetery, still in our human forms, it feels like we're the first people to come here in many years. The gravestones are crooked and in some cases cracked, and ivy has covered most of the church. When we get to the big oak front door, we find the list of sermon times is faded and almost impossible to read. The whole place just seems so run down, it's impossible to believe that anyone thought it could still be a functioning church. But the cemetery grass has been mowed, and it looks like the windows have been cleaned, so at least someone has been bothering with the place.