Wolf Island (The Demonata 8)

There’s plenty of food elsewhere, the voice says slyly, and sends an image of the compound flashing through my brain.

I grin wolfishly, then howl at the pack. They look dubious, so I howl again, fiercer than before, promising them the world, knowing they’ll turn on me if I fail to deliver. This time they roar excitedly in response. Those at the rear set off for the compound. Seconds later almost every werewolf on the cliff is streaking inland, eager to be among the first to the feast. Only several of the more advanced beasts hold their place at a commanding cry from me. These, the largest and smartest, will be my personal retinue. They’ll travel with me, to dispense my orders. In return, I’ll see that they enjoy the lion’s share of the spoils.

I face the confused humans and growl softly, trying to communicate. Their expressions are blank — they can’t understand. Frowning, I remould the cords of my throat, allowing my face to melt back to something more like its original shape. My teeth retract and my lips soften. I have total control over this body. I realize now that I always did. I could have manipulated myself this way since birth if I hadn’t been so afraid of what I might turn into. I’m more than flesh and bone. I’m a spirit, a force, a power. I’m not shackled to any single form.

“Grubbs?” Meera says, searching my eyes for traces of humanity.

“You came this close to being eaten,” I mumble, eyeing her darkly.

Meera’s face fills with relief. “You’re you!” she cries, throwing her arms around my broader, taller, twisted, hairier body.

“What happened?” Prae asks, studying me with a mix of fascination and horror. “Did the werewolf explode within you?”

“I unleashed it,” I explain shortly.

“Are you human or werewolf ?” Timas inquires politely.

“Both.” I take a step back from Meera. Her eyes flicker down to my lower body and she raises an eyebrow. I don’t blush — werewolves know no shame — but I pick up my discarded pants and tie them around my waist. “We don’t have much time,” I mutter. “We have to move fast.”

“I take it we’re not jumping off the cliff now,” Meera comments wryly.

“No.” I focus on Timas. “Can you get us back into the compound?”

“Yes,” he says. “It will take a while, but —”

“Work quickly,” I snap. “We’re hungry.” As the others stare at me, I turn from the sea and break into a trot, eager to feed.

I feel more alive than ever. I’m sure I look awful, no better than any of the mutated werewolves I now command. But I don’t care. Looks have never mattered to me less. After all the stress of recent years, the struggle between human, wolf, and Kah-Gash, I’ve finally found a happy balance. This is who I’m meant to be, not man, werewolf, or magician — but this. A mix of all three, uniquely disfigured and warped. For the first time in my life I feel complete.

Meera, Timas, and Prae are afraid of me, and rightly so. If I turned on them, as I’m tempted to, they wouldn’t stand a chance. But I choose not to attack. These are my allies, and while I don’t feel like I need them anymore — except Timas, to get into the compound — I honor our friendship. Besides, as the Kah-Gash pointed out, there are lots of others I can kill.

The humans struggle to keep up, but I don’t make allowances. If they fall behind, they’ll have to fend for themselves. I control the werewolves, but I know instinctively that my hold over them is fragile. If I don’t maintain complete dominance, I’ll lose them.

I can’t wait to get my teeth on Juni Swan’s throat. Revenge is what I’m focused on. I barely spare a thought for Dervish and the danger he might be in. All I care about is killing the she-fiend who betrayed us. When I’ve ripped her flesh from her bones and wallowed in her blood… then I can turn to other matters. Maybe. Unless I decide to stay here and become ruler of Wolf Island.

The compound. Timas is hard at work on a security access screen. I smell the fear of the soldiers inside. They know we’re out here. Several of their finest technicians are united against Timas, playing cat-and-mouse games with him as if locking horns over a chess board. But he’s stripping away their defenses, one by one. He’s better than they are. It’s just a matter of time before he outfoxes them.

By concentrating on my senses of smell and hearing, I follow the movements of those nearest us. They’re lining the tight corridors, checking weapons, preparing to blast wildly at anything that comes through. They’re frustrated. If the designers had built slots into these walls, as they did in those at the sides, they could have mowed us down. But an assault like this was never taken into account. The outer wall was meant to hold. The plan, if it fell, was to block off all other entrances to the compound, then escape by boats stored at the rear of the complex. After all, there

was no way brainless werewolves could short-circuit the security systems.

The soldiers could flee before we invade, and make a break for freedom. But they’ve been ordered to stand and fight. Juni doesn’t care about losses. It will probably amuse her to watch them die.

She’s still there. She has a distinctive, rotting stench. She’s waiting for us deep within the compound. I don’t know why. Perhaps she thinks she can get the better of me. She’s a fool if she does.

A couple of werewolves howl and others take up the cry. They’re growing impatient. They aren’t ready for mutiny yet, but they’re not far from it. Bending close to Timas, I growl, “A few more minutes. Then things get nasty.”

“You can’t rush a job like this,” Timas replies calmly. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Go faster,” I snarl. “When they turn, I won’t be able to hold them. I’ll be the first they attack, but you won’t be far behind.”

“Then we’d better hope time is on our side,” Timas chuckles, never looking up.

“Leave him alone,” Meera snaps. “You’re distracting him.”

“No, he isn’t,” Timas says. “I can multitask.”

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Prae asks, pressing an ear to the wall.