Wild (15 page)

Cold panic gripped her at the thought. Sleep in that house? Eat there? No, no, she couldn’t. “I can’t stay there, Nick. What if someone comes looking for Harris?” Vic could show up any time. She’d never think of a convincing enough lie for Vic; he and Harris were old mates, thick as thieves. Vic would know something was wrong.

“So don’t,” Nick said. “Stay with me. Grab some clothes and stay with me til you feel ready to go back.”

He made it sound so simple. So tempting. She could just hole up with him, stuff herself full of drugs and let the world slide by. “Okay.” She allowed herself to relax. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Nick.”

“Great.” He sat back. “Problem solved. You’ll be alright, Lizzie. Harris won’t be a problem, it’s just the Kurtadam you need to avoid. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble, and you’ll be fine.”

She wondered how chasing ghouls up and down Bold Street tied in with keeping your head down, but didn’t ask him. Instead she drank her drink and listened to him ramble on about his band, her mind drifting. She thought about the Kurtadam wolf from last night, who’d licked her muzzle so delicately. He hadn’t seemed dangerous. If anything he’d seemed friendly.

But Nick knew better than her, didn’t he? He’d been doing this werewolf shit longer. She had to trust him.

“Might be better all round to stay away from your place for a bit,” Nick said suddenly. “If the Kurtadam from last night start sniffing around and get hold of you, you’re likely to end up as one of their experiments.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, chilled by the thought but not quite sure she did. “You really think they snatch Vargulfs to experiment on?” Visions of mad scientists in lightning-lit labs flashed past her eyes. She couldn’t buy into it, not seriously.

He shrugged. “People like you and me are ideal, aren’t we? We’re on the edges of society, not playing along to everyone else’s rules and expectations. Who’s going to miss us if we disappear?”

He made their lives sound impossibly bleak, depressing her thoroughly. He seemed to realise and slipped her a pill under the table. “Cheer up. I’ve got your back – they won’t get you while I’m with you.”

She smiled, trying to put thoughts of bad science and werewolves out of her mind. They whiled away the afternoon, drinking and eating. The Pilgrim’s all day breakfast took the edge off her hunger, and Nick’s sleight-of-hand supply of pills kept her too high to worry about the Kurtadam or Harris too much.

As the sky outside darkened and the Pilgrim filled up, Nick became visibly edgy and impatient. “We should get out of here,” he told her. “Go find something to do.”

“Like what?” She contemplated her empty glass and decided it probably was time to go, before their money – well, Nick’s money – ran out.

He shrugged, tapping his own empty glass. “I dunno. I just want to be outside.” He grinned at her. “I love the night. I love being able to change shape and just go crazy, do whatever I want. It’s so fucking liberating.”

He did make it sound tempting. The Other was waking up inside her, roused by the approaching darkness maybe. The wolf wanted liberation, wanted to be running wild somewhere, away from the noise and chaos of the city. Lizzie nodded. “Let’s go.”

They slipped out of the Pilgrim and walked through the city centre, heading nowhere particularly, which suited Lizzie’s mood. She kept one eye out for Harris, but when they made it past Lime Street without seeing him, she let that go and relaxed. Everything was fine. No ghouls, no sign of the Kurtadam. Okay. She could enjoy herself without feeling paranoid or guilty now, right?

“Hey, let’s go to Calderstones Park,” Nick suggested, grabbing her hand. “I fancy a swim.”

“That’s all the way in Allerton,” she protested.

Nick shrugged. “We’re more or less at the bus station. We’ll hop on bus to Allerton and have some fun at the park. We can crash at your place or something, then you won’t have to worry about clean clothes in the morning,” he added with a grin.

She let him tug her towards the bus stop, a little reluctant. Had he forgotten already? “I thought we were staying at yours,” she said. “Heads down, out of trouble, all that?”

Nick appeared to give this some consideration, then shrugged it off. “Whatever. We’ll be fine. Stop worrying!”

She let it go. He was her only ally; she didn’t want to upset him or piss him off.

Half an hour later they were in Calderstones Park. It was a place she’d never been. It was too family-friendly for Harris, who liked getting stoned without noisy kids running around everywhere. The Mansion House was a popular attraction for families, as were the playground and ornamental gardens. By day it was probably all very pretty and picturesque, somewhere Lizzie’s mum would have enjoyed. At night it seemed faintly sinister, the gardens kind of creepy, like triffids might be lurking amongst the rhododendrons and herbaceous borders.

“Smells like summer,” Nick remarked as they crept into the park, past the old stable block and into the gardens themselves. “Nice, right?”

She nodded, although actually the smells of all the flowers and herbs filling her nose just made her feel a little sick. The Other was overwhelmed and bursting to get out, and it was much easier just to sit back and let the wolf take the reigns.

Without even thinking, she tossed her clothes off and fell into the wolf shape. It was so seamless, so painless, she barely even noticed the transition. The wolf wanted to come out; human shape was boring and weak, and the Other was happy to be free of it. Just ahead, masked in the shadows of a box hedge, she watched Nick change too.

She could smell animals now, dusty and juicy. Pigs, hens, geese. She could hear them snorting and clucking behind the stables, rustling their feathers and snuffling in their straw. The Other’s mouth watered at the scent of fresh prey. Such fair game too, just waiting to be picked off. Not as much fun as a real hunt, but the Other didn’t care. With Nick leading the way, she sloped off towards the pen where the geese and hens slept.

Lizzie marvelled once more at how sharp and clear the world was, even in the thick of night. Maybe it was the drugs magnifying her wolf senses? But every shadow, every scent and sound had new dimensions of meaning to the Other. Lizzie could tell at a sniff that there were six hens in the henhouse, huddled together and clucking softly to themselves. She could tell that there were piglets as well as adults in the pigsty; they smelt cleaner and fresher than the adults. She imagined the taste of raw of meat exploding in her mouth, blood across her tongue, bones snapping, pigs squealing ... The Other liked the thought, and Lizzie was too strung out to resist.

She followed Nick as he slunk around a parked Landrover, keeping low to the ground. The chicken coop was a rustic wooden affair; big enough for a small dog to nip into, but nowhere near big enough for two wolves. She whined her disappointment as she sniffed around the little entrance way, and the hens inside, disturbed by the arrival of two big predators, clucked and rustled in alarm.

Nick growled at her, tugging lightly on her ruff and pulling her away from the coop. She went reluctantly, trotting behind him as he crept over to the pigsty. Ah. This was much better. No doors, no hiding, just a low wooden fence to keep the pigs in. Lizzie licked her chops in anticipation, waiting for Nick to make his move.

He skulked up to the fence, sniffing around it as if searching for a weak spot. Pointless when you could just hop over, Lizzie thought impatiently, joining him to paw at the wood. Inside the sty, the pigs grunted and the piglets squealed and she couldn’t help thinking of bacon sandwiches.

Appetite well and truly whetted by the image, she backed up and leapt over the low fence, landing paw-deep in mud and straw. She barked to Nick, who grinned at her, tongue lolling, and bounded over the fence to join her. The second his paws touched the ground, the pigs went crazy, squealing ear-splittingly loud. Lizzie flinched at the noise, suddenly reconsidering her plan. But the sound spurred Nick on. Barking, he dashed into the huddle of pigs, scattering them. They rushed around the pen clumsily. Big black animals, solid enough to knock Lizzie flying, she was sure.

She lingered by the fence, torn between the instinct to chase the pigs and worry that they might trample her. Nick leapt on one of the adults, rolling it over and sinking his teeth into its fleshy flank. It shrieked, and the metallic tang of blood roused Lizzie’s predator instincts once more. The Other demanded she join in the fun.

Giving in, she snapped at a piglet as it raced past her. Her jaws clapped down on the little creature’s spine, snapping it immediately. The piglet died in her mouth, blood flooding her tastebuds. After that, it was an orgy of violence, like the blood had unleashed a primitive, brutal part of her nature. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t see straight. All she could do was dance around with Nick, biting and tearing and howling her delight to the dark sky.

When she came back to her senses, the pigs weren’t squealing anymore. The smell of blood was cloying and thick, and the taste of it was sour on her tongue. The night was silent. She couldn’t hear the hens or geese anymore. No more rustling feathers or soft, worried clucks. All she could hear was her own breathing, harsh and ragged. She looked around, turning her too-sharp wolf eyes on the carnage she and Nick had created, and suddenly the human part of her psyche was back in control and utterly sickened.

The straw was sticky with blood, and Nick’s muzzle shone dully with it. She licked her chops, tasted it on her fur, and was violently reminded of Harris. She hadn’t thought then either, hadn’t even realised what she was doing. God… this… this wasn’t right, this wasn’t okay. Panic seized her as Nick rushed past her, jumping over the fence. He stopped on the other side, whining at her with his head cocked to one side, an invitation to follow. She did, desperate to get away from the pigs and the smell of death.

Nick barked at her and danced around her, snapping playfully at her. Uneasy, Lizzie growled and snapped back less playfully. Nick whined and bounced off into the park. She followed, dragging her feet a little. Maybe the pills were starting to wear off? Maybe that was why she felt so sluggish and on edge all of a sudden. She should have popped another one before changing, or seen if Nick had any coke on him or anything.

Still, too late now. She could smell water up ahead, damp earth and reeds, and the idea of plunging in, washing the blood off, sounded like heaven. Before she reached the lake, she heard a splash and a joyous bark as Nick launched himself in. When she got to the bank, he was swimming around, tail wagging furiously and splashing water everywhere. He spun to face her, a pleading expression on his face, but Lizzie sat down at the edge of the lake, reluctant to join him. His enjoyment ruined it somehow. It shouldn’t be fun, not after the chaos they’d just created.

A dark mood settled over her, taking away any pleasure she’d had from the pills and the thrill of letting the Other take control.

She remembered feeling the same way right before Hannah had died, with Nick watching on. Uneasy, snappish, miserable. She wanted to be at home, curled up in bed with the world locked out. Out here, surrounded by shadows and filled with an odd disquiet, she felt trapped and unsafe. She chewed her paws miserably, watching Nick splash around like an idiot in the water, and wishing she could share in the fun. But she’d burned through her high and now she felt plain low, unable to fathom anything but her own sober guilt.

Eventually Nick got fed up of her refusal to play and swam back to the bank, leaping out of the water and shaking himself off on her. Yelping in annoyance, Lizzie backed away from him. Last threads of patience snapped, she changed back to human, damp and shivering. “Don’t be a prick, Nick…” she began.

And stopped, staring at Nick. Suddenly all her nerves and agitation made sense. Nasty, ugly sense.

He was still wolf-shaped and without the fog of drugs and wolf-thoughts clogging up her head, Lizzie saw him clearly for the first time. Lean and rangy, with dusty black fur and hot red eyes. She pictured him diving towards her, knocking her off her feet and sinking those heavy claws into her ribs.

Bile rose in her throat on a tide of anger and betrayal. She should have known. Why hadn’t she known? Why hadn’t she guessed before? Nick had attacked her. Nick had made her into a werewolf. Nick had fucked up her life with a single stroke of his wicked claws.

“You bastard,” she whispered. Nick whipped round to face her, lupine features radiating surprised. “You bastard,” she said louder, venom surging through her. “Why? Why did you do this to me?” Furious, she kicked out at him but he dodged out of the way.

With a bark, he fell back into human shape, fur melting away to leave him naked and vulnerable, but sadly out of kicking range. She advanced on him, rage steaming inside her, wanting to rip him apart, but he held up his hands, backing away from her with a desperate gleam in his eyes. “Lizzie, I can explain.”

“I’ve trusted you,” she said, hating the way her voice caught when she said it. She couldn’t cry, not over this. Not here. “I’ve trusted you, and all along it was you who did this to me. Fucked up my life.”

“Lizzie, wait, wait. Let me explain!”

“Explain?” she cried. “How can you possibly explain this?”

“I saved your life!” he shot back. “That night we met, at the Krazy House, you and your mate were just the same as I was, you see? Before I got changed. And then after your mate’s funeral , I followed you to the bombed-out church, I saw him hit you…I just wanted to help. To get you away from him. It’s a gift, Lizzie, a way out.”