Wild (21 page)

“God,” Seth whispered to Lizzie as they seated themselves. “They have this argument every time. Des gets a few drinks in him and starts ranting about the future of the species.”

“And he’s paranoid and melodramatic,” Nuala said, overhearing Seth. “Lizzie, sit here and talk sense to this man.” She patted the seat next to her and Lizzie obediently moved next to her. Someone pushed a glass of wine in front of her, and she ran her fingertip round the rim nervously.

“Tell him,” Nuala said. “The world won’t fall apart because of a few wolves.”

Des snorted. “You’re a new wolf, Lizzie, aren’t you?” he asked. “How did you feel when you found out you were surrounded by werewolves and never even knew it?”

Lizzie rolled her answer around her mind, cautious. This could be a defining moment. She could alienate herself if she answered wrong. But then, there was no sense being less than honest either, was there? “Terrified,” she said finally. “Confused, freaked out.” She shrugged apologetically at Nuala. “Sorry. Werewolves are scary.”

“Exactly!” Des said. “The world sees werewolves as Hollywood monsters and kiddies’ nightmares. You start jumping out on people, and it’ll be World War Three in no time. And the way things stand now, we’d lose.”

Nuala yawned pointedly. “Nobody’s going to be jumping out on anyone. Really, Des, you can be such an old fusspot.”

Des turned red. “You and Tai are going to have us plastered all over the tabloids,” he grumbled. “Seth, tell your grandmother –”

Seth held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not getting involved.” He moved Lizzie’s wine glass away from her and took her hand, stilling her nervous fingers. “If you just dragged me in here to rehash this old argument, forget it.”

Nuala winked at her grandson. “Traitor,” she muttered. “Make yourself useful and mix your old gran a proper drink then, will you?”

He went to one of the cupboards, pulling out a few bottles and a cocktail shaker. Lizzie watched, impressed, as he spun and juggled the bottled around while he made Nuala’s drink. He caught her eye and winked at her. “This is what I do instead of playing pool and poker,” he said. “Give me a few apples and oranges, and I’ll put on a show.”

She laughed. “Try it with a flaming chainsaw and a kitten. Now that’s a
real
show.”

The night wore on like that, lots of talking, lots of drinking, lots of sly caresses and subtle smiles between Lizzie and Seth that made her eager to get back outside so they could be alone again. But Des kept them pinned to the table, waxing lyrical on how defenceless werewolves were against human police and soldiers, even the average human thug on the street. Tai joined them for a while to unleash her counter-argument: modern science and an increase in the number of Vargulfs meant it was only a matter of time, so the Kurtadam had to seize control of the situation. By midnight, Lizzie was firmly on Des’s side. If only because agreeing with him was the quickest way to shut him up.

By midnight she was also ready to leave. On a normal night out – no, on a past night out, a night out for the old Lizzie, she corrected herself – she would have had two or three pills and a few drinks by now, and would be shimmering with energy and ready to move onto a few lines or coke and go dance up a storm somewhere.

Tonight, the new, clean Lizzie was sober and drug-free and exhausted. This cold turkey thing was harder than she’d expected. It would be so easy to pop a pill and wait for it to kick in, give her that extra boost of energy and enthusiasm, make her that little bit more alive and vibrant.

But no, no, that was the old Lizzie, right? New Lizzie was doing fine without drugs. Seth certainly found her attractive enough without them, and she’d had a fun night, hadn’t she? Maybe not her usual – old – kind of fun, but still fun. But now she was done. Her eyes ached and it was getting harder to concentrate on what people were saying.

She yawned, slumping down in her seat a little. Seth rested his hand on the small of her back. “Time to go home?” he asked her.

She struggled to sit up. “I can get a taxi,” she said. “I don’t want to be a pain…”

“I’ll drive you,” he said firmly. “It’s no trouble.”

He dashed off to find his car keys. Lizzie looked around, trying one more time to commit some names to memory. The crowd in the kitchen had thinned out though, with just Nuala, Tai, Des, and a handful more still hanging around. Tai and Des were still arguing, while Nuala watched with a knowing smile. Lizzie wondered if Ingrid was still here, or if she’d taken her broom and pissed off home.

Nuala turned to Lizzie, keen eyes scanning her thoughtfully. “Have you had a good night?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lizzie said immediately. “Thank you for inviting me. I mean, I know it must be a bit… like…” She trailed off, realising she wasn’t sure what it must be a bit like, except she guessed Ingrid wasn’t the only one who thought Vargulfs shouldn’t be swanning around with the Kurtadam.

Nuala smiled, crinkling up her face. “Seth doesn’t bring home many girls, Lizzie. You’re always welcome here.”

Lizzie flushed. “Thank you,” she muttered again, suddenly not knowing where to look. She stared at the table top, drumming her fingernails on it until Seth reappeared. She was surprised when Nuala rose with her to give her a quick, tight hug and a peck on the cheek.

“We’ll see you again soon,” she said, making it less of an invitation and more of a decree. Nuala spoke and the world fell into line accordingly. Lizzie nodded.

“Looking forward to it,” she replied, a warm glow filling her as Seth offered her his hand once more.

****

They drive back to Smithdown Road in companionable, sleepy silence. When Seth pulled up outside her house, she felt the first pangs of uncertainty in her stomach. Here she was again, afraid to go into her own house, haunted by all the crap that had happened there. Not just recently, but all of it, from her first fight with Harris to her very last.

Alright Lizzie, man up and say goodnight, she ordered herself, unfastening her seatbelt. The worst has already happened in there, hasn’t it?

She turned to Seth. “Thanks,” she said. “I had a good night. Really good.”

“Me too.” He cupped the back of her neck, moving her in for a kiss. She sank into it, all too happy to kiss back. “I’m working tomorrow,” he said when they broke apart. “But maybe in the evening we could do something?”

“Chase rabbits?” she suggested. “Or postmen?”

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll think of something more fun,” he promised.

“Sounds good. Give me a call, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

One more kiss, slow and sweet, putting off the inevitable moment when she had to leave him. But of course, the kiss had to end eventually, and she was bone-tired, too weary to play silly games with herself. So she said goodnight, watched his car drive away, just like last night, and went inside.

She knew something was wrong the minute she closed the front door. It was an instinct that was nothing to do with being a werewolf, and all about knowing her home, her space, intimately. Something was off, something was strange. Strange but familiar… The Other rose up in her, peeping out through her tired eyes and giving her an extra edge of awareness.

“Nick?” she called out, flicking the living room light on. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He slunk out of the kitchen, looking sheepish – too bloody right! – and smelling sweet, like he’d been smoking rock. His body language was wary and edgy, like he was waiting for her to start throwing abuse – or punches.

She was tempted. God, she was tempted. All the contentment and peace she’d found with Seth was burned away in a flash fire of outrage. “What?” she demanded, stalking towards him. “Turning me into a monster wasn’t enough? Now you have to break into my house too? What are you doing here? What do you want?”

He held up his hands, darting back when she got within hitting distance. “Don’t start yelling, Lizzie. I don’t want any trouble, okay? I’ve been worried about you – you weren’t answering my calls, I –”

“Why the hell would I?” she fumed. “After you killed my best friend, messed up my life, and lied to me about it! I don’t want to see you ever again! How did you get in?”

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair greasy. His skin was sallow – he looked awful, she thought with a flicker of satisfaction. Good.

“The back door was unlocked,” he said.

“No it wasn’t.” She shoved past him into the kitchen, desperate to do something that would stop her from throttling him. The back door was never unlocked. The back garden was a tiny, grotty slab of concrete filled with split rubbish bags and soggy pizza boxes. Lizzie never went out there except to add more rubbish to the pile. He’d broken in, plain and simple.

Rage curdled inside her, threatening to spill out. The Other growled and snapped in her head, making her skull throb. To distract herself, she set about making herself a cup of tea. Nick loitered in the doorway; she could feel his eyes on her. She wanted to spin round and fly at him, force him out of the house, out of her life. But she didn’t trust herself – or the Other. She was scared she’d lose control and then… and then…

“You should go, Nick,” she said, keeping her voice low to hide the snarl in it. “I don’t want you here.”

“You smell strange,” he said. “You’ve been with the Kurtadam.” Disbelief and alarm coloured his voice. “Shit, Lizzie, what have you been doing?”

“None of your business!” She gripped the sideboard tight, fighting the force of the Other. The wolf wanted to take over, deal with Nick directly and violently. It would be so easy to give in and let tooth and claw get him out of her life.

But no, no, that wasn’t what Lizzie wanted. She closed her eyes, breathing deep and trying to calm herself. She wasn’t an animal, she was a human. She didn’t need to give the Other any say in her decisions, right?

“It is my business.” Nick came up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder and shattering her hard-won control. “Fuck, Lizzie, didn’t you listen to anything I said about them? They’ll rip us to pieces! They’ll cart you off and force-feed you drugs to see you shift.”

She spun round, grabbing his hand and shoving him off her. “Don’t touch me!”

His eyes flashed red, sending a tremor of fear through her. “You
stink
of them, Lizzie. What have you been doing?” There was a definite edge of wolf in his voice, a rumbling growl that made Lizzie feel trapped and vulnerable, made the kitchen feel too small, cage-like. “Made some new friends, did you?”

She curled her hands into fists, unable to resist the Other now. The wolf rose in her, bringing a crazy bravery with it. “Yes, I have!” she snapped, straightening up. “And I found out all your crap about the Kurtadam was lies, just like everything else you’ve ever told me! They’ve done a hell of a lot more for me than you have!”

“You idiot!” he said, throwing his hands up in despair. “You think they want to help you? You think they’re on your side? They’re not, Lizzie, they’re not. They’ll use you and when they’re done, they’ll kill you and bury your body.”

She hated the scorn, the derision in his voice. It was too much like Harris, too much like a thousand times they’d stood and screamed at each other over nothing, and resorted to violence. “Get away from me,” she warned. “I want you out of my house, Nick.”

He softened then, maybe sensing she was holding on by a thread, maybe just too stoned to stay loud and angry. “Lizzie, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for everything – how many times d’you want me to apologise? But you can’t get involved with the Kurtadam. They’re not your friends. I am – I looked after you, didn’t I? When you were going through the change, when all the cravings and shit were happening. I took care of you, didn’t I? When you killed Harris, I helped deal with it, didn’t I?”

He was cajoling now, trying to persuade to remember him kindly, but she couldn’t, because anything kind he’d done was eclipsed by one simple, forgettable fact.

“You did this to me,” she whispered. The world flashed sepia as the wolf grabbed hold of her, and she felt her nails grow thick and heavy. She raised her hand to display her claws to him, a fine tremble running through her. “You did this to me, Nick. Maybe my life wasn’t perfect before, but it was
my life.
And you changed it without asking, without thinking!”

Nick stumbled away from her, caution etching his face. Once again his hands came up, defensive, placating. “Lizzie. I couldn’t stand to watch him treating you that way, hitting you and hurting you. You don’t deserve it, you deserve better –”

She wished she could put this all down to a bad trip. The blazing memory of kissing Seth goodnight seemed faint and unreal compared to the immediacy of her fury with Nick. But her head was clear, her body alert, not a trace of drugs or alcohol to blame. The Other was coming out, refusing to be pushed back, and Lizzie wasn’t strong enough to hold her down.

It was as if the Other was clawing her way out from within, breaking through Lizzie’s skin and emerging piece by piece. And Nick saw it, it was reflected in his eyes. And it scared him. She liked that, liked the wicked power coursing through her.

“I don’t want us to fight, Lizzie,” he said carefully.

“We’re already fighting,” she growled, tensing her body, prepared to strike if he pushed her.