Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Thirteen

Officer Morris 1962'

My blood cooled, leaving me bewildered. The blazing stare vanished, replaced by a menacing pitch-black. He looked normal, tall and intimidating, but he had a normalcy.

"Who are you?" I summoned the courage, my voice echoing through the fading rage.

"I see you survived the night," he growls, each word sending shudders down my spine. Until recently, not much could scare me, but he and all of this did.

"Barely. But now, I don't know how to explain it. I feel broken, with an overwhelming urge to kill." Adrenaline coursed through my veins, replacing the fiery rage. My heart still raced.

"You've been lucky; very few humans can handle it. Embrace it. Surely, there are people you'd love to cut loose on, ripping them to shreds? Or are you the meek and mild type? If that's the case, don't panic. Changing will be as normal as putting on that ridiculous white coat."

His venomous words made my legs tremble. Yeah, some people blooming pissed me off, but I'd do nothing about it. Same for most, I expect. If we all got along, the world would be a boring place. As for changing, that comment had my head spinning.

"Changing? What the heck? You're kidding. To what? Are my family at risk?"

"Why spoil the surprise? Your family? They became collateral damage when you got hauled out carrying that boy." He displayed a stare that chilled me to the bone. Deep black eyes narrowed at the corners, bordered by a black-grey beard; his mouth formed a half-smile, exuding confident intent.

That terrifying confidence caused sweat to pool around my brow, and my feet shuffled backwards. I regretted changing my mind. I had to leave and get home to my family, meaning I had to abandon the unconscious boy to the menacing beast. He could've killed him already, yet he hadn't. He made a blood river across the floor, dangling the head in the air, showing off. Was I that obvious, or could he sense where I was? Did he stop my pain?

"What do you mean? I haven't spoken to them yet or anyone."

"That's why I despatched the doctor for you. No, your family will be leveraged. They can't get hold of the boy."

His words rocked me—the dangling of my family on a hook. The thought of my loved ones dragged into the mess made me feel sick. How could I be expected to put an unknown child above my family?

"I...I... I can't; I can't do that. I saved him already. That should be enough. My family needs me." I felt caught in a no-win situation.

"So what? You're going to up and leave? You know I could've killed you, right? I still might. Will you leave the kid at the mercy of those sick bastards? What's stopping me from tearing your throat out right now?"

He flew into a rage, leaning across the bed. His face moved within inches of mine. All I could smell was death. Every breath he made filled the air with searing heat and the sickeningly rancid smell of death. It took everything I had to stop from shitting myself there and then.

He could end me at any moment. If I hadn't realised that before, I sure did now. I was a pawn—a means to an end for him to get revenge on those who wronged me. Staring him in those dark black eyes, being that close, told me as much, not to mention the blood-red blaze.

"You're right; Nothing is stopping you, yet I'm still here. Perhaps you need me."

"Maybe your squirming amuses me. The lack of intelligence is surprising, considering your uniform symbolises hope and strength. All I saw last night was weakness and fear. Intoxicating fear of something you didn't understand."

"And still don't. In the same way, 'they' don't know what they've done. Some are already different, yet want more. Everything you people class as nightmares justifies what you all do and helps you feel better about it. I ask you, who is the real evil?"

He slid his body backwards, his temper easing. He had a point about what we would call and describe scary beasts. The same goes for what I've seen in combat. Who is the real evil? I couldn't answer. Not honestly.

"It's not every day I see something like that. I was expecting a house fire. The rest, I have no answer. Are you going to kill more?" Slowly I was freaking out.

"Who knows? Maybe I will like the chaos and watch you destroy yourselves. I'm here now and not going back. The boy needs to be safe now. He's made it this far," he let loose with a scary, gravel-laden chuckle.

"So, what does that mean? What now?"

"You watch over him. He's only a fledgling right now, but there will come a time, and a need greater than now that you will have to be by his side. There's something different about him."

"What do you mean?" Wondering if it could get any worse.

"You'll see. Do you think I was the first attempt at power? A first attempt at reshaping your world?" He looked at the boy, who seemed to breathe heavily and rapidly; his body glistened with sweat.

"Wouldn't it be easier to kill him?" I couldn't believe I was saying it, the words trickling out of my mouth, and I couldn't take them back. But if what he had said was true. Then, it may end up being safer for everyone.

"Typical human answer. No. Deep down, that fragile wreck is a child who knows no different and will be confused. Would you kill your child? No. So he's no different."

"So.. but...I... I am still trying to figure out what to do. Or who to trust, and now, this... this... thing is brewing inside me. I'm scared."

I knew how crazy I sounded. It felt like there were two of us vying for the same body. Anyone would be the same, going through what I was.

"It's not a bloody baby... You need to understand fear is an illusion of the unknown and the inevitable, designed to create excuses for the weak. But you're not weak. Otherwise, your body can't handle the change. So don't let fear control destiny; that thing inside is you, a version of you. Watch over that boy. Or else."

The smile disappeared, and the eyes suddenly burnt bright red. All I could do was nod and agree. I had no control over my body, leaving my mind a stranded passenger, letting his menacing words sink in. Fear was my companion, and no escaping it. The pale bald head clutched in claws had my eyes glued. I hadn't noticed until then. But he had long, thick brown-red claws, different from what I've produced. They were buried in the skull, using it as a bowling ball. Yet the only thing he would strike was fear deep into the far reaches of my soul.

The head gets tossed through the air with a quick, cartilage-crunching flick. Causing blood to spurt down the coat front. My natural reaction was to catch. Clutching the still warm and completely disgusting head, fighting the urge to be sick, before my hands flung it onto the bedside table.

Looking up, I expected the red eyes, but nothing. The boy seemed so peaceful and helpless. While inside, he is something else; if I were to believe what I heard, so was I. These were unimaginable thoughts, yet they were dancing around in my head. The days of going to a straightforward burglary or robbery could be a distant memory if what he said is true. The idea goes against my upbringing.

Since red eyes had done his vanishing act, leaving me in trouble, my options were limited: stay, get caught, and pretend I found the mess. That wouldn't work; they would look for the obvious target, especially if it's someone 'on the payroll'.

Or I could grab a wheelchair from the hallway and take the kid on a little ride. Maybe no one would bat an eyelid, thinking it's a genuine doctor pushing a patient. I was leaning towards this option being the safest, looking at his innocent face as I heard sirens squealing from outside the windows.

The sun was disappearing, making it easier to drift into the darkness once outside. Only where would I take him? I didn't want him around my family. Then the brain cells sprung into life, doing a little happy dance around the emptiness of my mind. There was one place that might help, an old flame that's still a friend.

She would throw me a bone. I've never spoken about her to anyone at work—life before my wife, so any connections there. An emergency foster carer, from time to time, didn't like the politics and red tape of it all, so she got out unless there was a desperate need. Miss Hannah McCormack. I was desperate.