Wild (10 page)

“Why do you care?” She didn’t mean it to come out so whiny, so needy, but she couldn’t stop herself. “What’s it all to you anyway?”

He appeared to give the question some serious consideration, finishing his fag as he thought it over. He tossed the dog end in the gutter and smiled at her. “I was all alone when I first changed. It was horrible, it was … just horrible.” He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone should go through that alone.”

That was pretty weak. He had to want something in return, didn’t he? People never did anything for free, not in Lizzie’s experience. There was always a trade-off.

Still, she felt pathetically grateful nonetheless. It was a massive relief just to feel she wasn’t alone, that Nick didn’t think she was crazy. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll meet tomorrow.”

eleven

S
HE DROVE HOME
to find the house blissfully empty. Harris had probably gone to the Krazy House. Probably found himself a new impressionable posh girl and was shagging her brains out in a toilet somewhere. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, sweet and sour, and told herself she didn’t care. She was leaving him anyway, wasn’t she? They’d pretty much broken up this afternoon, hadn’t they?

Yes, she was. They had.

She fell asleep on the sofa to the sounds of an old spaghetti western, and woke up to the sound of stuttering engines as her neighbours went about their regular, drug-free, wolf-free mornings. She sat up, muscles cramping, and glanced out the window. Harris’s motorbike was still gone. She could leave today, while he was out.

Hot, electric energy thrummed through her at the thought of actually doing it, actually leaving Harris for good. Quitting drugs for good. Optimism bubbled in her like champagne, leaving her giddy and excited. She could do it. Pack her bags and drive off into the sunset. Away from Harris, drugs, and werewolves.

The filthy state of the house killed her buzz completely, wiping away the bright hope she’d felt upon waking. The stench of body odour, beer, and rubbish made her gag and she knew that, even if this was her last day here, she couldn’t leave it like this.

It would be the start of her new life, she decided as she rooted around the kitchen for cleaning supplies. Cleaning the house would be symbolic, the start of her own personal cleansing. The thought cheered her again, filling her with an almost manic energy that she channelled into scrubbing the house from top to bottom.

It took hours to restore order to the place, and she was dusty and exhausted when she was done. But God, it had been worth it! Golden sunlight streamed through the freshly cleaned living room windows onto the newly polished furniture. The stink of garbage and sweat had been replaced with the fake rose fragrance of air freshener. Lizzie stood in the centre of the living room, hands on hips, glowing with satisfaction. Standing in a pool of sunlight, feeling invigorated and content, she couldn’t believe she’d fallen for Nick’s bollocks last night. Werewolves? People would know! If a bloody great pack of wolves was running around Liverpool, people would know. The man was clearly even more fucked up than she was.

Shaking her head at her own gullibility, she showered and changed into freshly laundered black jeans and a close-fitting Misfits t-shirt. She tied back her damp curls and set to work packing her belongings with the same vigour she’d attacked the cleaning.

Clothes, CDs, books, and DVDs all went into one battered suitcase. She threw out anything Harris had given her, a surprising amount of things really, when she looked at it all. Jewellery and perfume mostly, all of it knock-off stuff. But still, it was a reminder that he’d cared about her once. This was another thought she dismissed as weak.

The afternoon was drawing to a close when she was finally finished and ready to go. The full moon was already a shadow against the darkening sky, and it turned her vibrant energy into a nervous buzz. What if she was making a mistake? What if she couldn’t do it, couldn’t live without the drugs? What if she ended up crawling back to Harris?

She paced the living room, tapping her fingernails on her arms, trying to talk herself down. She was strong. Hadn’t she felt stronger recently than ever before? She was capable and she’d cope. Swallow her pride and go back to London, back to her mum.

Man, that was going to hurt.

The sound of a key in the lock sent her heart rattling crazily around her chest. Pressing her hand to her throat, she turned to face the door as it opened, taking deep even breaths to keep herself calm.

Harris sauntered in, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. She felt a spurt of disgust at the sight of him. He looked dirty, tawdry and sleazy. What had a sharp girl like Lizzie Creighton ever seen in him?

Vic was in tow, reeking of cider, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Alright, Lizzie. Feeling a bit better today, are we?” He wandered into the kitchen before she could tell him to drop dead.

“Oh, you’re home,” Harris said, eyes skidding around the living room. “And you cleaned up. Nice one, babe.” He flung himself onto the sofa. “I don’t suppose you cooked too? I’ve proper got the munchies.”

“I’m leaving,” she announced before her courage could desert her. The words felt like glass, jagged against her lips.

“Yeah?” He sat up and shot her a glare. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t get it, didn’t realise she meant leaving for good. “Does it matter? I’m leaving and I’m not coming back. Ever.” She gestured to the suitcase in the hall. “I’m leaving you.”

Harris stood and she tensed, seeing the flare of anger in his eyes. “What the fuck are you going on about now?” He rubbed his nose, a reflexive motion. “Don’t start talking shit. You’ve been acting really mad the past few weeks, you know that?”

“I’m not talking shit. I’m deadly serious,” she snapped. “I want out, Harris. I’m sick of living like this.”

“Like what?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “You’ve got everything you want. You’ve got a good life, Lizzie. You’re never short of pills or meth or coke, you’ve got me …”

“I don’t
want
you!” she cried, digging her nails into her palms in frustration. They felt unnaturally sharp, cutting into her skin, and the pain fired her on. “I don’t want the drugs anymore.”

“Oh I see what this is.” He sat down again, relaxing visibly. “You’ve been on the phone to your mum. She been filling your head with rehab bollocks again, has she? Fucking hell, Lizzie –”

“Let her go, mate,” Vic advised from the kitchen. “You’re better off without her anyway.”

Her frustration boiled over and she lashed out, kicking over the small coffee table in front of the sofa. “This is nothing to do with my family!” she told Harris. “I’m leaving you because
I
want to! I’m quitting drugs because
I
want to!”

He leapt up again, face an ugly shade of purple, violence crowding the air around him. “Fine! Fuck off back to London then! Vic’s right - you’re a fucking nightmare anyway. Just don’t think you can change your mind and come back when you need your next fix!”

“I wouldn’t come back to you if my life depended on it!” she screamed. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction! I should go to the police!”

Her words stopped him for a split second. “You’re not going to, are you?” he asked quietly.

His change of tone shook her. She could handle him shouting at her, but this deadly quiet was a different matter. He hurt her when he spoke like this, really, physically hurt her. Vic poked his head through the kitchen door, face equally dark.

“She won’t,” Vic said. “She’s not that stupid, are you Lizzie?” The threat in his voice was frighteningly clear.

“I … No. Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.” Her own voice dropped in response.

“You say anything to the police about me and I’ll bloody kill you.” Harris lunged at her and she stepped back, dodging his grasping hands.

“I won’t say anything! I just want to go, Harris, I don’t want any trouble!” she cried, hating the way her voice wavered. “I just want to go.”

He lashed out at her again, his blow catching her jaw. Hard. She cried out and staggered backwards. Tears of pain and anger clouded her eyes. “You’d better keep your mouth shut,” he spat. “For a whole year I’ve put up with your whining, kept you high, and what do I get? Nothing but shit.” He swung at her again.

She brought her arm up and blocked the punch, but the blow sent jarring pain down her arm. “Don’t you dare hit me again!” She shoved him away, sending him tripping over the upturned coffee table. “Or I
will
go to the police!”

He picked himself up, murderous fury in his eyes. “Fine. Just fuck off then, Lizzie. Fuck off home and see how long you last. You’re a nasty little tart and you’ll always be a nasty little tart, no matter where you go!”

“As long as I’m away from you, I don’t care,” she snapped, regretting the words the second they left her mouth.

Harris lunged for her. She yelped and ducked away just in time to avoid another blow.

“Don’t, Harris,” Vic warned, stepping into the living room to grab Harris’s arm. “She’s not worth it, alright? Just let her fuck off. You hit her and she’s bound to go running to the police. Just let her go.”

Harris shook him off. “You wouldn’t dare, would you, Lizzie? She knows how much worse it’ll be if she does.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she spat at him.

“Alright, I’m going.” Vic threw his hands up, acting all defeated and exasperated, a saint who’d tried and been ignored. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned Harris once more.

The front door slammed behind him, leaving Lizzie and Harris staring each other down, all the anger and violence bubbling between them. It had to explode. She felt it, trembled with it. Harris burned with it. He stepped towards her. She stepped back.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered again.

He snatched a handful of her hair, yanking her towards him. She yelped and scratched at his chest, trying to free herself. He grabbed her throat with his free hand, shaking her as he pulled on her hair. “You fucking should be!” he told her. “If you know what’s good for you, you little slag!”

“Let me go!” She could barely get the words out. Red stars twinkled at the edge of her vision. He could throttle her until she passed out. He could choke her to death…

No! No, no, no! Not now, not when she’d decided to be strong! The red stars became a red veil, crashing down over her vision, filling her with a brutal strength. She felt it down to her core, hardening her, giving her the will to fight him off. The Other, that dark being, exploding with fury.

She clutched at Harris’s wrist, digging her nails into his skin and tightening her grip until he choked in surprised pain and released her. Gasping for air, she dropped to the floor. “Coward,” she panted. “You fucking coward, attacking a woman. Are you going to beat up the next girl you trick into shagging you too?”

Rendered speechless with rage, Harris just kicked at her. His foot hit her ribs, driving the air from her lungs again. She curled up, letting that crimson rush of fury take her over. I won’t give up, not now. I am strong. I am capable. I am strong, I am, I have to be.

The red mist blinded her and the world vanished in a rush of blood, echoing like the distant roar of the ocean. The sound drowned out the sound of fist hitting flesh, swallowed everything up but the harsh staccato rhythm of her heart against her ribs.

I am, I am, I am.

****

Strong, oh yes, she was strong. She was unstoppable. Her body was filled with raw power, ready to fight, ready to kill. The moon poured its magic through her, throwing her into a new body, remaking her into pure, quicksilver strength.

Her dreams came rushing back: the thrill of the hunt, the delicious smell of salty blood, the beautiful crack of breaking bones. She tore into her prey, revelling in their wails, relishing their futile attempts to fight her off.

She crunched her fangs around the tender throat of her prey, ripping through the meat and muscle. A fine spray of blood coated her muzzle and she licked it off with a toothy grin. Gurgling sounds rolled from her prey’s throat, faint and terrified. She wrinkled her nose as her prey emptied its bowels in fear. The smell was sharp and clogging, ruining the scent of fresh meat and blood, rendering it all inedible. But she kept clawing and biting until the prey fell silent.

Bathing in the cool moonlight, she paced around this tiny box, this prison, trying to find a way out. But all the doors were locked, the windows sealed. Snarling in frustration, she retreated to her den, all her magnificent strength and proud, fierce energy going to waste. There would be no running tonight, no proper hunting. All her instincts, newborn but well trained, told her that was what she should be doing.

Instead she was locked in this cage, surrounded by ugly smells, with barely enough room to stretch her legs. All this sparkling power inside her, waiting to be unleashed and nowhere to take it. She snapped at the soft lump before her, worrying at the fabric until she’d shredded it. The full moon splashed over the mess she’d made, calling to her. Whining in frustration, she curled up in a patch of moonlight and dreamed of a true hunt.