Wolf Island (The Demonata 8)

Sight returns. Colors are different, not as keenly defined, but my field of vision has expanded and I can see more sharply, as if viewing the world through a magnifying glass. I spot Timas and Meera struggling. Prae Athim is gaping at me. The werewolves have stopped and are staring. Some paw the ground, eager to sink their fangs into us, but held in place out of fear of the dominant pack.

Something howls, a cry of jubilation, triumph, and violence. As the muscles in my throat constrict, I realize the howling comes from me. As that understanding sinks in, I get to my feet, arms flexing, and gaze down at my new body.

My clothes are ripped and falling off my limbs. I’m naked, but I’m not bothered. What need have animals of clothes?

I howl again with savage exultation. Then I look for the group leader. Finding him, I chuckle throatily and step forward. With a challenging grunt, I beckon him on.

The werewolf snarls. I can smell his uncertainty. He’s not sure if I’m human or wolfen. I howl again, clearing matters up. His eyes narrow and, with a howl of his own, he charges. He’s huge, arms like trunks, but only slightly bigger than me. I plant my feet, twist, and drive my shoulder into the werewolf’s chest.

He’s knocked to the floor. Around him, the creatures wail and screech. As he rises, furious, I kick him hard in the side of his head. He falls again. I’m on him before he can rise a second time. Setting my teeth on his throat, I bite. Blood fills my mouth and I drink greedily. This is what the werewolf within me has been waiting for all its life. I could squat here and sup until the sun sets.

But the other dominant werewolves have different ideas. Seeing its chance for glory, one darts forward and latches on to my arm. Sinks its fangs deep into my flesh. I break free of the dead werewolf with a muffled cry of pain, then wrench my arm away and head-butt the challenger. Its skull cracks and it drops.

Another attacks, gibbering madly. I grab it by its crotch and throat, lift it up, hold it over my head, then toss it into the pack. Those it lands on go wild and tear it to pieces.

A fourth werewolf steps forward, the largest yet, with the widest shoulders and longest fangs. A female. She looks edgy. If she was a true leader, she would have led from the beginning. I think she’s the strongest creature on the island, but she lacks courage. She’s only challenging me now because she thinks she has to, that I’ll work my way through the dominant members of the pack, one by one, to ensure complete command.

I leap at the werewolf. She lashes out. I let her fist connect with the side of my head, then laugh. I throw a few punches, gnarled hands flying faster than they did when I was human. The challenger stumbles away from me, dazed. I grab her head, jerk it back, fasten my teeth on her throat?

? then growl.

The werewolf whimpers. I growl again and the whimpering stops. I release her and shove her away — alive. The beast stands, head lowered, subjugated. I glare at the others in the dominant pack, then sweep my gaze over those they command. I roar a question, but not a single one answers.

Returning to the body of the original leader, I lower my head and chew at his throat, leaving myself open to attack. When the werewolves hold their ground, I know there will be no more challenges. Standing again, I look around victoriously, taking it all in… the cowed werewolves, those I’ve killed, the shocked faces of the three humans. I fill with a sense of power and joy. Raising my head to the sky, I howl long and loud, and all around me the werewolves howl back in obedient, respectful response.

They’re my pack now.

THE TURNED WORM

GRUBBS?” one of the women gasps, eyes filled with horror. “Is that you?”

I crook my neck and stare at her. There’s no Grubbs here. Werewolves don’t need names. Tags like that are a human weakness. I think about killing her for daring to address me that way.

“Grubbs?” she says again, taking a hesitant step towards me.

A werewolf howls, warning her off. I roar at it angrily — I can protect myself. It lowers its head and whines. I fix my eyes on the woman. My stomach rumbles. The blood of the previous leader is like honey on my lips. But how much sweeter would the blood of a soft human be?

“Meera!” the other woman snaps. “Don’t get too close. He might —”

“Grubbs won’t hurt me,” the one called Meera says confidently.

I snarl at her arrogance and raise a claw to rip off her face. No one has the right to make decisions for me. This woman’s made her last mistake. If I let her get away with it, the others will think they have leeway too. I have to kill her, for the good of the pack, to maintain order.

“Don’t be silly,” Meera says, smiling weakly at my upraised hand. “You won’t hurt me. What would Dervish say if you did? You remember Dervish, don’t you?”

I growl uncertainly, hand held above me like a hammer. Dervish. The one who guarded me when I needed guarding. Even the wildest beasts have respect for those who rear them. But Dervish isn’t here. He’s in trouble. He needs help. He’s…

“Put down your guns,” Meera says, dropping hers and crossing her arms.

“Are you sure about this?” the tall man asks.

“What have we got to lose?”

He shrugs and carefully lays down his weapon. The other woman gulps, but follows suit. All three stand shivering, unarmed, at my mercy. I feel the eyes of the pack on me. They have the scent of humans in their nostrils. Their mouths are wet with lust, as is mine. If I deny them their feed, my hold over them will crumble. A leader must do what’s right. Part of me wants to spare this trio, but mercy is a luxury I can’t afford. It’s time to block out the memories of my human past and…

Don’t be an idiot, a voice says. My eyes flick around with fury, looking for the one who dares speak to me in such a manner. But then I realize the voice is coming from within. You’re a mix of human and werewolf, cemented by magic. You can make new rules.

“But they’re hungry,” I reply silently. “I am too. We have to eat.”