Wolf Island

“What the hell,” Prae wheezes. “Let’s both do it… and die together.”

“As you wish.” We’re almost at the top. Timas slaps my back. “One last push and… you’re there. Don’t slow or look back. Run, jump, swim. Meera…” She looks around. “I’m sorry I won’t… be able to claim… that kiss you promised.”

“Don’t worry,” Meera says. “I lied. I wouldn’t have kissed you anyway.” The tall man’s face drops and Meera groans. “I’m joking!”

Timas’ smile lights up his face again. With a cheerful wave he stops, turns, swings his rifle round and opens fire. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Prae halt, drop to her knees, take aim. The werewolves are damn close, dozens of them, the larger, enhanced members to the front, leading the pack.

I mount the crest of the rise after Meera. The clifftop lies enticingly ahead of us, the sixty-odd metres away that Timas calculated. My heart leaps in my chest. I catch up with Meera. We’re going to make it! I don’t care if we perish when we dive, if the tide’s out, or if we’re driven under by vicious currents. At least we won’t die here on this cursed, savage island of…

Werewolves. Streaming towards the edge of the cliff from our left and right. They’ve split into two groups and flanked us. The smarter beasts must have guessed our plan. Rather than waste themselves on Timas and Prae, they branched around. As we watch in horror, they dart ahead of us and form a barrier across the top of the cliff, two or three bodies deep. Some remain to the sides, to ensure we don’t veer off.

We come to a stop. Meera points her gun at the creatures ahead of us, then does a quick headcount and lets it drop. She looks at me and shrugs. We share a bitter smile. I’d like to hug her, but I haven’t the energy. With incredible weariness we half-crouch and cross our arms on our knees. We’re panting like thirsty dogs, surrounded, trapped, waiting for the werewolves to close in and brutally finish us off.

THE BEAST WITHIN

One of the werewolves howls commandingly. A couple to his left and right return the cry, along with a few on the flanks and behind us. But when those howls die away, there’s silence, which is more unsettling than the noise. I’ve got used to the violent baying of these beasts. Silence seems creepier.

Scrabbling noises behind us. I cock my head and look back. Timas and Prae scramble over the rise, guns raised but not firing. They stop when they spot us and the ranks of werewolves beyond. Prae looks confused. She turns slowly in a circle, studying the ring of twisted creatures, then shuffles towards us. Timas advances beside her, walking backwards, rifle still aimed. Werewolves from the other side follow them as far as the top of the incline, then stop at a howl from the one near the cliff.

“This is amazing,” Prae says, joining Meera and me. “They have a group leader. Even those which haven’t been modified are obedient. There are other dominant members too.” She points out a few of the larger werewolves. She’s excited by the discovery, momentarily forgetting her fear. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. I doubt even Antoine knows about this. His experiments succeeded far beyond his aims. They’ve become a true pack.” There are tears of happiness in her eyes.

“What happens if we kill the leader?” I ask. “Will the rest split?”

“Of course not,” she snorts. “One of the other dominant members would replace him. Or her— maybe the females are superior.” She sighs. “I wish I had time to conduct a thorough study.”

At a howl from the group leader—one of the largest werewolves, with dark grey hair—the pack starts to close around us. A couple of the smaller werewolves dart forward, but are immediately dragged to the ground and beaten or killed by the dominant members. The rest obediently hold the line.

“We’ll hit those at the centre and try to squeeze through,” Timas says. He still hasn’t turned. “Concentrated fire. If we can make them part a few metres, we stand a chance.”

“I’m game,” Meera says, straightening and picking up her discarded weapon.

“It’s hopeless,” Prae mutters, but aims her gun too.

Tell them to stop, the Kah-Gash says abruptly.

“Stop!” I gasp. As they look at me questioningly, I hold up a hand for silence and concentrate on my mysterious inner voice.

If they fire now, there will be chaos and you’ll all die. These beasts have become an organised pack. You must use that against them.

“How?” I ask aloud.

Fight them on their own terms.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The voice sighs contemptuously. Do I have to do everything for you? Before I can answer, it says curtly, Unleash the wolf.

“Which one?” I frown.

The one inside you, fool!

“I don’t—”

We haven’t time to argue. I said you’d need to obey me without question. They’re closing in. Unleash the wolf. Give it free rein. Trust me.

I hesitate. The werewolf within my skin is something I fear completely. I’ve gone to great efforts to keep it imprisoned. In my nightmares it has often burst free and caused havoc, killing all around me. I’m determined not to let those dark dreams become reality. The Kah-Gash understands that. It helped me push the werewolf down deep when I didn’t know how to do it myself. So why is it telling me to release the beast now? Is this part of the Shadow’s plan? Will I play into the hands of the Demonata if I—

Last chance, the Kah-Gash warns as the werewolves creep to within six or seven metres of us.

Cursing silently, I reach inside with magic and tear at all the barriers which I’ve put in place over the last year, ripping them to shreds, pulling down the wall of safeguards which has protected me from my more beastly, bloodthirsty half. The wolf at my core is startled, suspecting a trap. Then, as I encourage it forward, it realises this is real and leaps to the surface, howling with delight.

My temperature shoots up, my skin tightens, my bones seem to crack, snapping away from each other, thrusting upwards and outwards.

I fall to the ground, crying out with pain. Vaguely aware of Meera shouting, trying to help, and Timas roaring, asking for orders to fire. I shake my head. My eyes are hardening. There’s blood in my mouth. I raise a trembling hand and stare at it. The nails lengthen while I watch, fingers curling inward, hairs sprouting from my knuckles. Then my sight flickers and blurs.

My gums split, my teeth grow, my lips extend. I cough, lungs altering, heart pounding faster than it ever did before. Muscles rip and strain, then knot again. White noise fills my ears, threatens to deafen me, then fades, leaving me with a better sense of hearing than ever.

“He’s turning into one of them!” Timas cries, open panic in his voice. I sense him levelling his gun at me.

“No!” Meera shouts, grabbing the barrel of his rifle, jerking it sideways.

Sight returns. Colours 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 gawping 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 realise 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,