Wolf Island

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, 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 begi

I leap at the werewolf. She lashes out. I let her fist co

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 ma

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

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 realise 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 enquires 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 trousers and tie them around my waist. “We don’t have much time,” I mutter. “We have to move fast.”