Wild (31 page)

No, Seth was right. Better to sneak away and leave them to it. She sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes to shut out Ingrid and Nick, ready to turn her back on them and go back into the sticky warmth of Barfly, watch the rest of the bands, dance with Seth, grab back that normalcy.

Too late though. Nick must have heard Seth, or smelt them both, because he broke away from Ingrid, turning to them with a snarl. “Fucking hell, what now?”

Ingrid looked up too, a sneer on her face. “Get a good look, did you, Seth?” In the light of the street lamp, her eyes looked too bright, too wide. High, Lizzie thought. Coked up. Lucky Ingrid.

“What’s he given you, Ingrid?” Seth released Lizzie’s hand, stepping forward. Ingrid drew back in response, into the circle of Nick’s arms.

“Fuck off, Seth. It’s nothing to do with you,” she snapped, tossing her hair. “
I’m
nothing to do with you, remember? You picked Little Miss Sunshine, didn’t you?”

Lizzie bristled, wanted to strike back, but the memory of Hannah convulsing on a dirty toilet floor stopped her. Ingrid was a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to die for it, did she? It wasn’t like Lizzie could claim any moral high ground. “Nick, what did you give her?” she asked. “If it’s the same shit you gave Hannah -”

His eyes flashed wolf-red and a spark of fear flashed through her. “It’s coke, alright? Regular coke. You want some?” The gleam in his eyes turned sly and knowing. “Plenty left, Lizzie.”

“Fuck off,” she spat. “Seth -”

He ignored her, catching Ingrid by the arm to pull her away from Nick. “What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“It’s nothing to do with you!” she screamed, tugging free of him and slapping him across the chest. “This is what I want, alright? I’m going to shift! Nick promised!”

God, was she that stupid? Lizzie’s sympathy for her faltered. The Other wanted to grab the other girl by the throat and shake some sense into her, stirred by the crush of emotion in the air. Not just the beating anger between Ingrid and Seth, but Lizzie’s own anger at Nick, her brewing jealousy and unease. It all fed the Other, roused her and called her, and Lizzie couldn’t imagine anything bloody worse than losing control here and now, so she bit her lip, bit back her frustration and tried to stay quiet.

“Ingrid, this is stupid,” Seth said with a touch of desperation. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

“Oh, piss off, boy scout.” Nick stepped up beside Ingrid, body taut like he might throw a punch. “Just leave it, alright? Nobody’s hurting you.”

“You stay out of it,” Seth snarled. His eyes glowed red, furious fires burning down deep, and Lizzie’s breath caught. Two angry wolves, both dominant in their own way, both determined to be in charge. In this tiny, filthy space, they were too close, and the air buzzed with the potential violence. The jagged bass music echoing inside the Barfly lent the a primal viciousness to it all. Lizzie shivered, hating it. The Other lapped it up, loving it.

“Make me.” Nick shoved Seth, a light touch but loaded with venom, promising more. “Come on, if you’re so fucking superior.”

“Nick, don’t.” Lizzie reached for him, not sure what she was going to do but unable to curb the impulse. He slapped her hand away.

Seth pushed him, sending him staggering back into the wall with a grunt of surprised pain. “Don’t touch her! You’ve done enough.”

“Me?” Nick threw his head back and laughed, eyes shining with gleeful spite. “I’m not the one tearing people apart, making ghouls, and leaving them to rot in the streets! How come
she
gets special treatment when the rest of us Vargulf are treated like fucking scum, like you wouldn’t piss on us if we were on fire?”

Lizzie’s cheeks burned and the Other howled inside her, clawing to get to Nick and knock that nasty smile from his face. She shoved past Seth, unable to hold her anger back anymore. She wanted to hurt Nick more than she’d ever wanted any drug, any fix in her life. “You made me like this!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare make like you’re some poor, abused victim, here!”

“You don’t deserve it!” Ingrid whispered, but there was hysteria in her voice threatening to explode. “Stupid little druggie whore, you don’t deserve it! Why should you get to change when I can’t? I’m Kurtadam, dammit!” Tears streamed down her flushed face, her voice rising until she was screaming, and Lizzie was sure someone on the street would hear and come looking, either to help or egg on the fight about to break out.

Because it would, she felt it in her bones, in her blood. Too much rage, too much animal fury for a fight not to happen. Her Other begged for it, demanded that she answer the challenge both Nick and Ingrid threw at her. Next to her, Seth trembled, on a knife-edge between striking out and walking away. And part of her was scared he’d walk away. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to follow him.

And then it didn’t matter what she might have done because Ingrid screamed, shrill and ear-splitting, and collapsed. Seth cried her name and dropped to his knees beside her, clutching her shoulders and shaking her frantically. Bitterness warred with worry inside Lizzie, the memory of Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, consuming her. No, she didn’t want Ingrid to die like that, didn’t think anyone should die like that, and she dropped down too, rolling the girl onto her side, terrified she’d see froth and spittle round Ingrid’s mouth. Terrified Ingrid would die in her arms out here.

“Do something,” Seth shouted to Nick, frantic and panicked.

Nick stepped away, pale, shaking his head. “She’s changing. Look at her! Look at her eyes.”

Lizzie did. Ingrid’s eyes burned like hot coals, and black fur flowed up her twitching fingers. Lizzie released her, scooting back, heart in her throat. She met Seth’s eyes, shaken by the horror there.

“First shift,” he whispered.

Lizzie remembered – the lack of control, the lack of even remembering. The wildness, the blur of sensation and need, and the sight of Harris, bloodied and ruined but not dead, far from dead.

“We need to keep her here,” Seth said. He still had a death grip on Ingrid at his knees.

“Help,” Lizzie pleaded with Nick, rising to grab his arm. “You did this to her, you have to help!”

He tugged free and shoved her away. “She’s Kurtadam, isn’t she? Your new best friends – you take care of her!”

“You coward!” Lizzie shoved back and suddenly they were fighting, his fingers in her hair, her nails down his face, a rough, raw scramble of insults and mindless slaps, like every fight she’d ever had with Harris. Dimly she heard Seth yelling at them to stop and help, but she couldn’t stop. She knew this kind of fight; if she pulled back, she’d get knocked out. Harris taught her that.

Ingrid’s pained shrieks turned into howls, impacting Lizzie in a way Seth’s shouts couldn’t. She tore herself away from Nick in time to see a sleek black wolf wrestle free of Seth. There was scant space between Lizzie and Ingrid; they were close enough that Lizzie saw the confusion, the anger, the hunger in the wolf’s eyes, and her heart dropped into her stomach. Ingrid was still, unblinking, and Lizzie was at the edge of the abyss, one hot breath away from fangs and death.

“Lizzie,” Seth whispered. He was frozen behind Ingrid, face bleeding, the coppery scent so alluring. Ingrid must have scratched him during her change.

Her breath caught her in her lungs. Her head ached where Nick had pulled at her hair, and her instinct was to collapse, rest her burning face on the cold pavement and submit before Ingrid attacked. Because she would, any second now. It was inevitable, like taxes. That’s what they said right? Death and taxes. Inevitable. She bit her lip to keep crazed laughter bubbling out of her mouth.

But the Other didn’t want to submit. The Other wanted to fight back, smash this interloper to pieces for even daring to threaten her. And Lizzie, shaking and hurting, losing control, felt the wolf rise up inside her.

She fell back onto Nick as the change took her, lightning bolts of pain riding her as the Other took charge. It felt horrible. It felt amazing. It was too slow. While she writhed out of her skin and into her fur, Ingrid pounced.

Lizzie yowled as fangs tore into her back leg, crunching down through skin and muscle. She rolled, desperate to throw Ingrid off and free herself, but Ingrid held on, and while Lizzie was stuck between girl and wolf, she wasn’t strong enough to break free.

There was yelling all around her, hurting her too-sensitive ears, and a great wrenching stab of agony in her leg. She howled, twisting round to see Seth tear Ingrid away from her. The pain pushed the Other, pushed that final bit of change from girl to wolf, and suddenly Lizzie was strong and free and ready to tear Ingrid to pieces.

She hauled herself up, turned, limping, to face the other wolf. Seth’s arms were locked tight around Ingrid’s neck, holding her back with obvious strain. The tang of sweat mixed with the tang of blood, driving Lizzie into a frenzy. She launched herself at Ingrid, jaws snapping.

But Nick caught her injured leg, pulling back. She yelped and tried to turn to bite him, failed when he released her with a push, sending her sprawling into the fire door of the club with a heavy thud. And Ingrid was on her again with a howl of victory, grabbing for Lizzie’s throat.

Lizzie collapsed as Ingrid collided with her, her claws raking Lizzie’s ribs. Panic seared her, she didn’t want to die, didn’t want to bleed out here, no, not after everything that had happened, not after how far she’d come. And the Other refused to stop fighting, couldn’t stand to lose to this bitch. She let the wolf’s hatred fire her, clawing and scratching and biting as she tore free with a splatter of blood and seized hold of Ingrid’s thick ruff, sinking her teeth down deep.

She was dimly aware of shouts behind her, vaguely aware of a dark blur flying at Nick, but it was minutiae. Another world away. Her world was just Ingrid. They grappled and rolled, Ingrid, bigger, uninjured, freed herself from Lizzie’s grip and cuffed her hard, rocking Lizzie and blurring her vision.

For a second the world was dark, filled with sparking white stars. When light returned, she saw Seth, wolf-shaped and glorious, looming over Ingrid, who cringed away from him in the corner, snarling half-heartedly at him.

Relief crashed through Lizzie. Seth would handle it. He’d make it okay. She picked herself up, wincing at the sting of cold air on her bleeding leg. She hitched it up, wriggled round to lick at the blood, and that’s when Nick rushed her.

Once again she thudded into the fire door. This time the impact of her body battered the door, leaving a rough wolf-shaped indent in the metal. Lizzie’s head rang and she was sure she was hearing things, because there were more yells now, human voices, and Nick was the only human here now, wasn’t he? But no, someone was running down the alley, heavy boots pounding on the pavement. Shouts, cries of shock.

She shook her head, looked up to see kids crowding around Nick. He sat on the floor, shoulders heaving, eyes glazed while they leaned over, shaking him. “Mate, you want to lock those things up! They eat babies, don’t they!” someone called.

Seth growled, attention shifting from Ingrid for a second. That was all she needed; she rushed past him, past Lizzie, scattering the gathered crowd and darting for the street. Seth barked and shot after her. Lizzie wavered; she couldn’t possibly keep up but she couldn’t stay either. On two legs she might be faster, but she could hardly shift back here, could she?

Nick stood, using the people around him to pull himself up. “Fucking dogs,” he muttered, elbowing his way out of the little crowd. “Rabid animals, don’t know who let them out.”

Lizzie growled, outraged all over again at what a fucking coward he was, trying to run away like that, just leave the mess he’d made. She hobbled after him, barking furiously. Nick spun, face red now, and kicked out at her. “Fuck off!” he bellowed. He missed her, hit one of the girls in the crowd, who squealed indignantly and slapped at him.

That was all it took for a fight to break out; fists and insults flying, the girls shrieking encouragement and snapping pictures with their phones, the boys slinging punches, and Nick in the middle of it, hopelessly outnumbered, and Lizzie could smell the desperation pouring off him. That and the powerful musk of a wolf.

He was going to shift.

Oh shit. Oh no. Lizzie whined, dropping away from the fight.

It happened so fast, like pressing fast forward on a DVD. He was a riot of twisting limbs, stretching skin, tearing clothes. The crowd fell away with fresh screams and cries, and the cameras snapped and flashed, dazzling Lizzie. And then Nick was a wolf in their midst, biting at them, sending them flying.

One lad, bigger and drunker than the rest, kicked Nick in the ribs hard enough to send him flying. He crashed into Lizzie. She fell back into a bin, knocking it over and spilling rank fast food remains and soggy cigarette ends over the pavement. She pulled herself up, shook herself off, just in time to see a beer bottle fly from the crowd and strike Nick in the face. He barked, more in surprise than pain, and crouched as if to leap.

Panic tripped through Lizzie. If he killed one of them ... God, he’d already bitten and scratched them – could have made them all into Vargulfs already. Her heart fluttered, creating a sick pit in her stomach. She launched herself at Nick just as he sprang, knocking into him and sending them both careening into the fire door once more. That third blow was enough to send the door flying open, and they tumbled into the Barfly’s band room. Screams and shouts drowned out the band on stage, who stopped mid-song at the sight of the pair of them anyway.