Wild (13 page)

Lizzie wasn’t so sure. As annoying as the troupe of students was, she couldn’t help envy them their obvious warmth and closeness. It was just another reminder of her loneliness.

No, not alone, she reminded herself. She had Nick, right? He was taking care of her, making sure everything was okay. She shook off her maudlin thoughts and swigged her vodka. The alcohol burned down her throat, taking away some of her doubt. The pill would take away the rest. “So what else is so great about drugs when you’re a werewolf?” she asked. “What makes it so much better?”

“Besides being able to handle so much more? It’s just another world, Lizzie, really. It’s amazing. All your senses are heightened, everything’s sharper and brighter. It’s just beautiful. And it makes shape-changing easier too.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, an almost fanatical look on his face as he leaned in to her. “God, yeah. Because all your inhibitions are gone, right? All your mental defences, all the stuff that keeps the wolf part of you locked up, that’s gone. Listen, how many pills would you usually take a night? For a good night, I mean?”

She thought back to some of her best nights, like last summer’s all-nighter at the Krazy House, when she and Hannah had danced away from dusk til dawn, stopping only for water and more pills. Now that had been amazing and beautiful. The club a riot of colour and noise, a symphony of unadulterated joy. “I don’t know, maybe six or seven?”

“Right, you’ll be able to handle double that now, easily. Maybe even more.” Nick leaned back with a smirk. “You’ll see. You haven’t been really high until you’ve been high as a werewolf.”

****

Lizzie didn’t have enough money to get into the band room and watch Good Thinking Batman, so she nursed her drink and people-watched while Nick’s band played their set. Django’s filled up as the evening wore on, and the paranoia that had gripped her earlier returned full-force as she scrutinized every person who walked through the door. Was he a ghoul, that pale-faced emo boy in the corner? Was that broad-shouldered lad in an Everton shirt a werewolf? A Kurtadam, come to hunt her down and rip her apart for Harris? What if Harris himself walked in? What would she do then?

She concentrated on smells, searching for that woodsy, wild scent Nick said all werewolves had. Mostly all she could pick out was perfume and aftershave, mingled with alcohol and sweat, but that didn’t stop her from freaking out every time the front door opened.

By the time Nick emerged from the band room, carried on a blast of speaker static and girly squeals, she was jittery with nerves and desperate for a pill. Or two. Or ten. She leapt up as he approached. “Are you done? Can we go?”

His face was flushed with heat and excitement. “We’re done,” he confirmed, handing her a bottle of water. “Check this out.” He grabbed her hand and slid it into his jeans pocket. Taken back, it took her a second to realise what her fingers were brushing – a small plastic bag, filled with pills from the feel of it. She pulled her hand loose, feeling an answering flush heat up her own cheeks.

“Are they all for us?” she exclaimed.

“They’ll see us through the night. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Entwining his fingers with hers, Nick led her outside. Cool night air caressed her too-hot skin like a balm, easing some of the tension knotting her stomach. Music pulsed up and down Wood Street, a manic mix of metal and hip-hop. People drifted up and down the street, and once again Lizzie found herself scanning every face for some sign of werewolfism or ghoulness.

Nick wrapped his arm round her shoulder, guiding her off the street and down a side alley between Django’s and the Chinese restaurant next door. “Relax,” he told her. “You’re so twitchy.”

“Can you blame me?” She followed him to the fire escape behind the Chinese restaurant. The smell of sweet and sour sauce and cooking duck made her stomach growl, but she ignored it. She was far more interested in pills than food right now. She craved the floating, blissful release. Nick leaned against the fire escape and tugged the bag of pills from his pocket.

“How many do you want?” he asked.

Feeling reckless, she held her hand out. “Let’s start with five and take it from there.”

He shook them into her hand with a laugh. “That’s my girl.”

She knocked back the pills, chasing them down with a gulp of cool water. Moaning, she closed her eyes, lost for a second in the anticipation of the drugs kicking in. When she opened them again, Nick was downing his own.

“Right,” he said, snatching the water from her. “Time for a laugh.”

“What did you have in mind?” She could dance. She was up for dancing, throwing herself around in the Krazy House to harsh guitars and frantic drumbeats. Or even venturing to somewhere like Flares or the Reflex and strutting around to disco and jive like an idiot. Yeah, dancing. Movement. Action, that was what she wanted. To burn off all the stress and fear and nerves balling in her brain and stomach.

“Something a bit … ghoulish,” Nick said, dashing her hopes for a mad dancing session.

Her heart tripped and fluttered with doubt. “What?”

“It’s fun! Come on.” He grabbed her hand and led her back onto the street. She followed helplessly, as if caught in a riptide. The pills were already kicking in, making her lightheaded and giddy, but a trickle of uncertainty tainted her rising high. Whatever Nick had in mind, she wasn’t sure she wanted in.

He led her into Concert Square, pushing through the crowds of smokers and revellers queuing outside the clubs ringing the Square. For a moment, she wished she was queuing with them.

Off Concert Square, and onto Bold Street, where bookshops and coffee houses stood dark and silent. Lizzie caught a glimpse of herself in a window as they passed, saw a wild-eyed, haunted-looking girl look back, and it was almost enough to stop her. Almost enough to make her wrench free of Nick’s grip. She wanted to banish her own reflection, chase away that scared, drowning vision of herself and replace her with the Lizzie she had been before … all this.

But then a group of men and women rounded the corner ahead of them, all laughing and shouting, and she turned away from her reflection to avoid banging into one of them. The girl, a tall blonde who stank of peaches and flowers, glowered at Lizzie. “Watch it!” she snapped.

“Leave it, Ingrid.” The boy next to her pulled the blonde out of Lizzie’s way and flashed her a sympathetic smile. She couldn’t see much of his face – it was hidden under his oversized hoodie – but his hazel eyes softened when Lizzie smiled back.

“Lizzie, come on,” Nick growled, tugging her through the group. He picked up his pace, almost dragging her along behind him. Surprised, she quickened her own step to keep up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him once they were clear of the group.

“Didn’t you smell them? Kurtadam.” Nick spat on the pavement, lips twisted in disgust.

She glanced back over her shoulder to stare at the group, only to find the hazel-eyed lad staring back at her. Flushing, she quickly turned back to Nick. “I don’t think they noticed us,” she said.

“Probably too high on their own fucking self-importance to notice,” he agreed. “Fucking – hey! Here we go.”

They’d stopped outside a second-hand record shop at the top of Bold Street, just around the corner from the bombed-out church and the Chinese district. Once again the smell of Chinese spices and cooking meat assaulted Lizzie’s senses, and she was suddenly desperate for food. A good chicken satay or shredded beef … yeah.

The pills had fully taken hold now, but rather than the bubbly joy she usually experienced, she just felt edgy and jittery. The world blurred at the edge of her vision, colours running together, sounds too loud. Her senses were on overdrive, every sensation magnified. Her stomach churned with hunger and nausea. “What are we doing?” she asked Nick, trying to distract herself. She was giving herself a bad trip, that was all. She just needed to refocus and happiness would come.

“Over there.” He nodded. Across the street a homeless woman huddled in the doorway of an arts supplies shop. The sharp glow of a streetlight overhead showed a filthy, threadbare tartan blanket bunched up over the woman’s legs, and gleamed off the small bottle she clutched. From here, with her senses all crazy, Lizzie could smell the gin and decay emanating from the woman. She could see the pallid skin and rheumy eyes. A ghoul.

“Watch this,” Nick said. He bent down and scooped up a half-brick, discarded from the building site a few streets away probably. He lobbed it at the ghoul, sending it crashing into the door frame over her head. The brick crumbled, chunks of stone raining down on the ghoul’s head. One larger chunk struck her bottle, knocking it from her hands. The ghoul shrieked as the bottle shattered on the pavement, spilling gin everywhere.

Lizzie watched in mute horror as the ghoul scrambled to her feet, screaming obscenities at Nick. He laughed, searching for another brick and pressing it into Lizzie’s numb hands. “Go on,” he encouraged. “Let’s see how mad we can get her! Make her run.”

She stared at the brick. It expanded and shrank in her hands, one second too heavy to hold, the next so light she thought it might float away. She glanced at the ghoul, still spitting curses at them. The smell of rot and meat stirred the Other in Lizzie, whetting her senses. This creature was an abomination, the Other told her, shouldn’t exist. They should drive it away, get rid of it. Lightning flashed through her head, scrambling the separation of human and wolf. Lizzie hefted the brick.

The ghoul dodged to avoid it this time, and the motion triggered a wildfire reaction in Lizzie. She wanted to chase it. The urge to run, to hunt, consumed her. She could feel the Other taking over, pushing its way through her body to take control, and it felt good. Right. She looked to Nick for confirmation that this was okay.

His eyes glowed ruby red and he threw his head back to howl at the inky sky. Lizzie did the same without thinking, giving herself over to the stronger, wilder entity inside. Nick launched himself at the ghoul, darting across the road to slash and swipe at her, forcing her to run to avoid him. Lizzie followed, mindless with excitement and high as she’d ever been.

They chased the ghoul up Bold Street, howling and barking and laughing as the pathetic creature crashing into bollards and bins trying to escape them. Lizzie kept the pace Nick set, fast enough to keep up with the ghoul, but never quite fast enough to catch her. He was electric in motion, leaping onto car hoods hard enough to dent them, and bouncing off again to land just in front of the ghoul and send her careening off in another direction.

When she slipped down a side street, screaming terror, Nick grabbed Lizzie’s arm to stop her following. “Wait,” he said, chest heaving with exertion, eyes on fire with joy. “How about a real chase?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The Other filled her to bursting, crying for freedom, and Lizzie wanted to let it out. Wanted the exhilaration of the hunt. Needed it. Craved it.

Nick stripped off quickly, and she did the same, too high to be shy. He fell to his knees as the change came over him, black fur flowing over his pale skin. Jaw lengthening, claws springing from his fingers, body throwing off the human shape and sliding easily, painlessly into wolf shape.

For a second, Lizzie hesitated, shivering and scared, as he rose on all fours, utterly animal. What if she couldn’t do it? What if her body didn’t remember how to do it?

Then Nick barked at her, urging her on, and the Other needed no further instructions. The world turned sepia, the night came alive with sounds and scents her human senses were too weak to notice. Lizzie lurched forwards, her whole body constricting and contracting as the wolf remade her. For a split second, the pain was torture and she was sure her heart would explode from the pressure.

And then it was over, and the Other was in charge. Through the wolf’s eyes, Nick was big and lean, an imposing male, but not a threat. Human memory tripped in her head, and for an instant panic flared through her at the sight of him and she didn’t know why.

Then she caught the scent of the ghoul, cowering down the alley in a puddle of its own urine, and she forgot her strange fear of Nick. He howled, full-throated and rich, and they bounded down the alley together to flush the ghoul from her hiding place.

There was no challenge to it; they simply chased her out from behind the skip and back onto Bold Street, where they harried her back down the way they’d come, snapping at her heels. Lizzie took a mean-spirited joy in imagining it was Harris they tormented. Maybe they’d go find him later, chase him round Lime Street Station until he pissed himself and begged them to stop. If he was still capable of begging.

The ghoul picked up speed as they reached the bottom of Bold Street, as if her terror had been renewed. It didn’t take Lizzie long to figure out why – the musky smell of another wolf flooded her nostrils, and she pulled up with a yelp. Nick did the same, dropping low to the pavement, a snarl curling his lips as he cast around for the other wolf. The ghoul took advantage of their distracting, darting away towards the Chinese district.

Annoyed by the escape of her quarry, Lizzie started after the ghoul, but Nick stopped her with a sharp, angry bark. She whimpered and slunk behind him, waiting for the new wolf to show itself.

He emerged from between two parked vans, a massive, sleek brute with coal black fur and eyes like glowing embers. Lizzie watched him approach with a mixture of awe and dread. This was a Kurtadam wolf, there was no doubt in her mind. This was it. This was death.