Changeling (24 page)

He turned round, leaning his back against the edge of the metal sink, enjoying the sensation of the cold water on his mouth and throat as he drank greedily from the tumbler. He took in the
immaculately clean and tidy room. It was open plan – the living area, dining area and kitchen all housed in the same space. Only two doors came off the room, both set into the same wall to
his right, and he guessed that these must be the bedroom and bathroom.

A large stone fireplace and chimney dominated the wall opposite him and two high-backed armchairs were arranged facing each other on either side of it. There was a small table between the
chairs, and the half-empty cup of coffee that was left next to a face-down paperback book were the only clues that anyone had been in the room that day. Every item was tidied away, and there
didn’t appear to be a sign of dirt or dust in the place. It seemed that everything Ella owned was allocated a space, and everything was arranged with an eye to order and organization.
She’d manufactured a series of long shelves against one wall, and these were filled with books. Hardbacks filled the uppermost shelf, displayed in size, from the tallest on the left to the
smallest on the right. The other shelves were filled with paperback novels, and Trey knew without looking that these would be organized in some equally anal-retentive manner; probably alphabetized
by author name, or something. He smiled to himself and finished his drink, turning to refill the glass from the tap and using the cloth he found neatly folded on the draining board to wipe away the
splashes that he’d made.

He glanced at the clock on the wooden mantelpiece, wondering how long he might have to wait for Ella to return. The temperature inside the cabin had fallen to a more bearable level now; cool air
coming in through the door from across the lake and bringing with it the smell of the forest and the water. He crossed the room, pushed the door shut with his heel and wandered over to the
bookshelf. He smiled again when his suspicion about the arrangement of the books was confirmed. Spotting one of his childhood favourites,
Treasure Island
by Stevenson, he knelt down and
eased it free of its companions. He took the book and settled down in the nearest armchair. If he was going to have to wait, he might as well make himself comfortable.

Jurgen emerged at the edge of the trees, no more than a stone’s throw from where Trey had recently stood, and looked down towards the cabins. He wasted no time in
scrambling down the slope, taking none of the precautions that his predecessor had in tackling the treacherous gradient, and hurtling headlong down the hill in great, bounding leaps. He heard a
shout from behind him as Luke fell but he ignored the boy’s cries, intent as he was on getting to the bottom of the slope as quickly as possible. The hill levelled out, and he’d started
to make his way across the grassy open land that led up to the lake when Luke called out to him again.

‘Jurgen, help me. My ankle. I think I’ve broken it.’

Jurgen paused and slowed to a stop but didn’t turn round to see what had become of the boy. He clenched his fists and swore beneath his breath. He’d leave the boy there; move on
ahead to see what the newcomer, Trey, was doing in his camp. Luke would have to make his own way back as best he could – there was no time for him to play nurse right now. He started off,
ignoring the cries behind him, and scanning the area around the cabins for any sign of the four-by-four vehicle that Marcus had driven off in. He slowed when he saw that the car was not there. If
Marcus wasn’t around it might be difficult for him to do what he planned . . .

He stopped, turning to look back at Luke. The boy had slid feet first into a long-dead tree stump sticking up out of the ground like a gnarled old hand. He had both hands clenched around his
ankle, and his eyes were screwed shut. A hissing sound came from between clenched teeth as he struggled not to shout out with the pain. Jurgen took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger at the
boy’s foolishness in check.

‘Wait a moment,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll be right up.’

The trip across the field took an age. They started out with Luke on his feet with his arm over Jurgen’s shoulder, but the high grass kept snagging on the boy’s
injured foot, and he begged him to go and get the car.

‘There isn’t any car,’ Jurgen said, taking a grip on the other’s belt and pulling him along with him again. ‘Marcus has not returned with it.’

‘How am I going to get to a hospital? How am I going to get this ankle looked at?’

‘We’ll find Marcus and the car and then we’ll drive you to a hospital. But not right away. We’ve other fish to fry before we can worry about that. I need you back at camp
with me right now.’ He moved forward again, pulling Luke along with him.

Luke began to cry. The pain was horrendous, and he couldn’t keep his foot sufficiently high off the ground any longer – his thigh muscle was burning with the effort of it. After a
few more minutes he stopped, refusing to go on any further – the pain that he was suffering overcoming his fear of the pack leader.

‘Just leave me here,’ he said. ‘Leave me here until you can come back with help.’

‘You’re pathetic,’ Jurgen snarled, his face pressed close to Luke’s so that the other could see the fury that burned in his eyes. ‘You’re not fit to be part
of this pack.’ He pushed the boy away and watched as he sprawled to the ground, crying out in agony as his foot jarred beneath him. ‘I thought Lawrence was the weakest member of the
group. But I was wrong. You are a weakling. A pathetic weakling and I should never have let you join us.’

‘I’m sorry, Jurgen.’ The boy turned his face away.

Jurgen glanced across the remaining patch of land that they had to cross to get to the path around the lake and the cabins on the other side. He reached down and tugged on the boy’s
shoulder, forcing him to sit up. He might need him. He turned his back and crouched down. ‘Get on,’ he said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb towards his back.
‘I’ll carry you.’

Jurgen straightened up and tipped his shoulders back, sending Luke sprawling to the ground in front of Marcus’s cabin. He ignored the scream of pain and curses aimed in
his direction as he glanced about him. Opening the door, he looked inside, taking in the suitcase and empty drawers on the couch. He stepped back outside, pulling the door shut, his hand resting on
the handle as he stood stock still, trying to figure out what had happened.

He was too late. The impostor, Trey, had already convinced Marcus to join him. He must have found out about the argument Jurgen and Marcus had had at the old man’s house. They were forming
a new pack – a pack that he would lead and . . .

He looked over at Ella’s cabin. What if the boy had managed to sway her too? What if he’d used the same conniving, scheming ploy to lure her away? He roared in anger and ran towards
the cabin, shouting her name at the top of his voice.

At the sounds of his pack leader’s voice, Lawrence emerged from his cabin, looking about him to see what was going on. His was the cabin furthest from the others.
He’d taken it because he liked to be away from the rest of the pack, especially Luke who teased him constantly about his stature in the hierarchy of the group. The ginger-haired boy took one
look at his pack leader running in his direction and knew that something was terribly wrong. Jurgen had blood all over his hands and clothes. It had dried to a coppery colour, but it appeared to
Lawrence that his Alpha had been attacked by someone or something. He remembered the newcomer’s unexpected arrival earlier, and guessed that Jurgen’s agitated state was something to do
with the boy. He hesitated for a second then set off in Jurgen’s direction to see if he could help.

Jurgen looked up to see Lawrence running towards him. The boy was shouting something at him, waving his hands and pointing towards Ella’s cabin. But Jurgen was too consumed with anger to
hear him. The blood that rushed through his veins sounded like a torrential river in his own ears and he shouted out Ella’s name over and over to try and drown out the sound. Something
strange had happened to his vision – it had become blurred at the edges and a red veil had descended, as if there were blood in his eyes. He turned to look at Lawrence who had stopped in his
tracks, and was now slowly backing up, staring back at him in horror.

That was when Jurgen knew that he wouldn’t need the other two to force the Change. The anger that raged through him now was enough to bring the Change about. This had only happened to him
once before when he’d been on his own, deep in the woods. There had been a trespasser and . . . when he’d come round again the hunter was dead.

He threw back his head and roared at the sky, welcoming the metamorphosis that would turn him into the Wo lfan.

Trey stepped out of Ella’s cabin, wondering what on earth was going on outside. Someone had been screaming her name, bellowing it over and over again.

He threw the door open and stepped outside to see Jurgen, who was kneeling on the floor with his back arched painfully behind him, bellowing like some madman. It had been the Alpha that had been
roaring Ella’s name. Trey could see in an instant what was happening – it had happened to him once. But unlike Jurgen, he’d managed to control the change, using everything in his
power not to give in to it and succumb to the beast within.

One look at Jurgen told him that he was too far gone to stop the transformation now. The Alpha had fallen forward on to the floor and his body was already horribly distorted. The bones made a
grinding noise as they broke, stretched and reset into a new skeleton on which the muscles were already growing and swelling. Trey stared in horror as the human body went through the grotesque
change. It was nothing like watching the pack transform together that first time; Jurgen’s body was twisting and contorting in agony, the screams coming from his mouth inhuman and sickening
to the ear. Jurgen’s face was already distending, the muzzle appearing to push its way out from the skull, the mouth stretched wide in agony as teeth erupted out of the jaws. Trey watched as
fingers disappeared into huge clawed paws that tore at the ground as the pain continued unabated.

Trey caught a flash of movement from the corner of his right eye, and glanced in that direction, registering the look of fear on Lawrence’s face as he sprinted back in the direction of his
cabin. Behind Jurgen, another member of the pack was lying face down on the ground, grimacing in pain and clutching at his foot. Trey’s heart hammered in his chest and he was torn between the
desire to go and see if he could help the injured man and the stronger desire to stay as far away from the creature – that was almost fully transformed now – as possible.

The Wolfan finally lifted its head, and looked up to see Trey standing there. As soon as the creature’s eyes fell on Trey, it let loose a roar that hurt his ears and echoed around the
lake, causing ducks and other creatures on its surface to take for the sky.

Something was wrong. Something about the way that the creature had looked at him sent a terrible cold shudder forking through him, and Trey knew that he was in danger. The creature was almost
fully Changed; the last vestiges of the human that it had once been all but gone. Trey stepped back into the cabin, slammed the door and threw the bolts into place to lock it.

The four-by-four easily negotiated the large depression in the track, bouncing up the other side and throwing the three occupants out of their seats for a moment. Frank reacted
with a low ‘Oof!’ and Ella apologized again for the uncomfortable ride. They’d taken the fastest route they could towards the lake, ignoring the main track, which was much
smoother but which looped around the forest and took considerably longer.

‘Please stop apologizing, Ella,’ Frank said. ‘You just concentrate on driving and leave me to worry about whether I’m ever going to walk again when I get out of this
thing.’

Marcus had accepted Ella’s offer to drive, taking up a seat in the back of the vehicle, where he’d sat silently throughout the journey. Ella had checked on him in the rear-view
mirror a few times during the trip, but he’d always been in the same position – sitting, staring at the floor between his feet, deep in thought. He spoke now, his voice low and
difficult to hear over the noise of the tyres on the track. ‘So what’s your plan, old man?’

‘Huh?’

‘Your plan. I assume that you have one, and one that involves the necklace that you were so keen to retrieve. I think that Ella and I have a right to hear what it is.’

Frank squeezed his fingers around the silver chain in his fist, but remained silent. Ella glanced across at him for a second, unwilling to take her eyes off the road for any more than that.

‘I’m going to do what I should have done from the start – I’m going to get my nephew out of this godforsaken place. I’m going to reunite him with this amulet and
send him back to England – to be with people that care for him and can look out for him. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting the lad stay here in the first place. This place has
always been bad news.’

‘And you think he’ll go?’ Ella said. ‘Just like that?’ She turned the wheel sharply to avoid a large hole in the road, throwing everyone about in the car like rag
dolls. ‘What makes you think you can persuade him to go?’

‘He’ll go when he’s heard what I have to say to him,’ Frank said in a voice so low that Ella had to strain to hear it.

‘He came out here to be with you, Frank. You’re the only family he’s got.’

‘Hungh,’ the old man grunted. ‘Some family I turned out to be.’ He tilted his head back to let it rest against the head support on the back of the seat.

‘What about the pack?’ Marcus asked.

Frank sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘To hell with the pack,’ he said. ‘It’s finished. You two are going to have to deal with that lunatic Jurgen.
If he goes quietly, I won’t press charges. If he kicks up a fuss, I’ll have the police here to arrest him on an attempted murder charge.’ He was silent for a second, before
adding, ‘If it was up to me, that son of a bitch would be made to pay for what he’s done. He killed Billy . . .’