Werewolf Stories to Tell in the Dark (2 page)

‘That's no ordinary wolf,' whispered Richard urgently. ‘And those aren't teeth – they're fangs.'

The wolf crouched in front of the cage, its eyes staring into those of Fergus Armstrong, who began to retreat as far back as he could.

A crunching sound broke the silence as Richard carelessly leant on an empty cage behind him, splintering the rotten wood.

‘Now you've done it,' hissed Neil. ‘Keep absolutely still.'

‘We've got to run,' whispered Richard in panic.

But the wolf was already padding towards them.

‘Don't
move
,' Neil insisted. ‘Just don't …'

But Richard was off; as he streaked away from the shadows of the cage the monkeys set up a hysterical chatter.

‘That's the wrong way,' yelled Neil, racing after him.

As they ran, Richard and Neil could hear the wolf
panting and growling behind them. Neither of the boys had the slightest idea where they were going and soon they found themselves facing a high and unscalable-looking brick wall. They darted a backward glance and saw the thing standing a few metres away, salivating, playing with them.

Richard leapt at the wall and with surprising tenacity managed to get a foothold, but his grip soon loosened and he fell to the ground on top of Neil. As they disentangled themselves, the wolf just stood there in the brilliant light of the full moon and watched them. Once again the eyes almost looked human, and Neil thought he could detect a strange yearning in them.

Then without warning the creature began to change: Neil and Richard stared in horror as the fur started to recede, to reveal flesh beneath, flesh that was young and strong and completely unmarked. To their amazement, in a few minutes the creature was standing on two legs instead of crouching on four.

The boy was about their age, and as he stared at them in silence the yearning in his eyes seemed to intensify. He tried to speak, but equally abruptly the fur was growing again and he was down on four legs, padding away from them, a horrible whining sound coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

‘He needs help,' said Neil. He was shaking. The sight of wolf to boy and boy to wolf had been appalling. How
could
such a change take place?

‘We've got to follow him back.' Richard was as shocked as Neil, but they both knew they couldn't just walk away from the horror of it all.

They ran back the way they had come, but although the wolf was nowhere to be seen, Fergus Armstrong
was still in the cage, clearly terrified, unable to emerge.

‘What are you two doing here?' he whispered.

‘We heard such a noise, we thought we'd better come and investigate,' said Neil quickly.

‘Keep your voice down. The wolf will be back soon. Come in here. It's safe and we'll be able to get out when the staff come on in the morning.'

‘No way,' said Neil.

‘Not a chance.' Richard was determined he wasn't going to be shut up in a cage all night, no matter what the dangers outside.

‘You
must
,' said Armstrong. ‘Don't be such –' But it was too late; the werewolf emerged from the darkness, his eyes blazing with rage.

Instinctively the boys melted into the shadows, all thought of helping Armstrong swallowed up by their fear.

‘Run,' hissed Richard. ‘We've got to run.'

‘We'll never outpace him,' whispered Neil. ‘You know that.'

‘Look –' Richard's voice was suddenly full of relief.

The wolf was padding purposefully towards the cage. He sat down and began to howl. But the howl was no longer despairing; instead it was full of triumph.

Crouched behind a straw bale, the boys watched. For a long time nothing happened. Then the wolf suddenly stopped howling and rose up on its hind legs. Once again the fur faded, but this time only to reveal the hand of a boy that reached inside the bars and lifted the catch while Armstrong watched in terror.

As the wolf loped into the cage, Fergus Armstrong began to scream. Knowing they were powerless to help him, Richard and Neil crept away before the werewolf took its revenge, and as they pushed their way back
through the rotting fence, the screams rose to a crescendo, ceased and the whimpering began. Then, finally, that too came to an abrupt halt.

‘
I'm not going to sleep after that,' said Alice. ‘I'll keep thinking of the wolf out there
.'

They all nodded, looking into the flames, conscious of the snow building up around the cabin outside. Colin's voice broke the silence. ‘I'm going to tell you about Tina,' he said. ‘Tina's problem was that she kept having this awful dream
.'

Listening to his story, curiosity overcame their fear
.

She was running over the moors, the terrible craving driving her on. Tina covered the ground in great leaps, aware of the need inside her, the thumping of her heart, the panting of her breath, the hunger …

Then she woke, sweating, and switched on the TV, terrified of the news item that always followed her dream.

‘And now, back to the Mailsham Monster. New sightings have been made in the small rural village of Mailsham of the large, unidentified animal that has been terrorizing the neighbourhood. Local residents are being attacked and several people have received bites that have needed medical attention. The creature is described as bigger than a wolf and covered in dark shaggy hair. Police are now making detailed searches of the area.'

The TV screen showed the moor. It was autumn and the camera was picking out remote dew ponds and occasional clumps of small trees.

Tina sat on the edge of her bed, crying, not wanting to go to school. She was dreading the thought of looking at her trainers, for each morning for the last week, ever since the dream had begun, she had found that they were covered in mud – and her tracksuit was sweaty and mud-covered too. But how could she tell
her parents that she was afraid – desperately afraid – that the dream was no dream at all and that she had actually been running on the moor, attacking people, hungry for flesh. Once again, Tina tried to reason away her fears. It was ludicrous – Tina Browning, twelve-year-old school-girl, her mother the local postmistress and her father a farm manager. All her friends would laugh their heads off. But the terror in her mind refused to go away.

Somehow Tina managed to get through school, but she seemed so exhausted that one of her teachers said, ‘I don't know what's the matter with you, Tina. You look as if you've been up all night,' and her closest friend, Liz, simply said, ‘Something wrong at home?'

She could have replied, ‘No – wrong with me,' but she couldn't bring the words out. The only person she could possibly confide in was Ben, her cousin, who was a couple of years older. They were very close, but Tina still hung back from talking to him. Maybe the terrible nightmare would go away.

It didn't – and when she experienced the dream again, it had another dimension. Still she pounded over the moor, still the all-consuming hunger for flesh urged her on, but this time her path was blocked in the moonlight by someone she recognized – an elderly Eastern European man who lived alone on the other side of the village. His name was Jureg Kalinsky and he was holding a rifle.

‘Silver bullets, my child,' he said, and took aim. ‘It is the only way.'

Tina snarled and leapt as Kalinsky fired, and she felt a searing pain in her right paw. But it was not bad enough to bring her down, and it soon faded as she raced on over the moor.

*

When she awoke next morning, Tina found dried blood on her duvet cover and a graze on her hand. She stared at it in horror, remembering the searing sensation she had felt. The silver bullet. What had silver to do with it? And why had the old man fired it at her? She had to find out. For a moment she hesitated, then quickly went to the end of her bed. Sure enough, the muddy tracksuit and trainers were there. A shuddering fear and revulsion filled her. What was she going to do? What
could
she do?

After school, Tina was so anxious that she decided to summon up the courage to go and see Jureg Kalinsky. His cottage was on the outskirts of the village, on the very edge of the moor, built on rising ground with a dry stone wall surround which gave the building a fortress-like appearance.

Tina knocked fearfully at the door. Supposing Jureg Kalinsky got his gun out again and shot her dead? She almost turned to run away, but Tina knew that somewhere on the night moor she changed, and she wondered if this elderly man could help her to understand – could even help her find a solution.

When Mr Kalinsky opened the door, Tina was immediately reassured: he was completely unarmed and his hands were shaking nervously.

‘You've come at last,' he said softly.

‘I had to see you.'

‘And I know why,' the old man replied.

‘Sit down,' he said. ‘I won't harm you.'

‘You tried to kill me.'

His room was small and each wall was lined with shelves on which hundreds of books, mainly in foreign languages, were stacked untidily.

‘You are suffering from an affliction,' he replied slowly. ‘An affliction that is the result of a curse that must be in your family.'

‘A curse?' Tina stared at Jureg Kalinsky in horror.

‘You are a werewolf, my dear,' he said baldly.

‘I dream,' she said numbly, hardly registering what Mr Kalinsky had just said. ‘I dream of running over the moor. I'm so hungry.'

‘What are you hungry for? What is it that you crave?'

‘I don't know.' She turned away from him.

‘You're hungry for flesh, aren't you, Tina?'

‘Yes.'

‘I was wrong to try and kill you,' admitted Jureg Kalinsky. ‘In my country –' He paused. ‘But we are not in my country. So I shall try to help you, but 1 warn you – it might not work.' There was pity in the old man's face. ‘You know what I would have to do then …'

‘Would the silver bullets just kill the wolf in me?' she said hesitantly.

‘They would also kill you,' Mr Kalinsky replied bleakly.

A wave of panic swept over Tina, leaving her light-headed. ‘What
is
this other way?' she whispered.

‘If you bathe in moonlit water – then the hunger might go.'

‘Is it worth trying? Have people ever been cured?' she asked desperately.

‘Some,' he said, and then continued quickly, ‘Do you know the pool at Charlbury Ring?'

Tina nodded.

‘Go there tonight,' he said. ‘And God be with you.'

Tina slipped out of her house that night, wishing now that she
had
first confided in her cousin Ben. He would
have helped her, perhaps provided a more practical explanation than Jureg Kalinsky with his silver bullets and recommendations to bathe in moonlit water. But even if she had confided in Ben, how could her cousin, only two years older than she, have any knowledge of this terrifying situation that was now completely out of control?

Ridiculous though it seemed, Tina knew that she had to test out Mr Kalinsky's possible cure. After all, she had no other solution.

Eventually she reached Charlbury Ring and saw the pool glinting in the moonlight. She had her swimming costume on under her tracksuit, and it wasn't long before Tina was standing on the edge of the freezing cold water, shivering and not wanting to go in. But she knew she had to, knew that this might be her only chance.

Finally, making a supreme effort, Tina plunged in, gasping as the cold enclosed her, striking out for the opposite side of the pool as fast as she possibly could. Then she swam back, dragging herself out, physically exhausted.

As Tina ran home, she longed to snuggle down in bed and sleep. Perhaps the terrible dream would never reappear. Could the pool really have cured her? If it had, then she would be eternally grateful to Mr Kalinsky. For the first time, she felt more optimistic.

When she let herself into the house again, her parents were watching television. She called out goodnight and went upstairs to her room. Once she had undressed and rubbed herself dry, Tina got into bed, closed her eyes and immediately sank into a deep sleep.

The wolf was close behind her as Tina padded across the
moor; her wounded paw was sore and her breathing was ragged with tension. She knew she would have to turn and fight her pursuer eventually, but she was hoping against hope that she might outrun him.

The pain in her paw was increasing now, so much so that Tina was beginning to weaken, grimly realizing she would soon have to turn at bay. Then she trod on a sharp stone, the graze began to bleed again and she turned snarling to face him.

The two wolves sprang at each other, rolling, biting and slashing with tooth and claw. They fought until Tina managed to bite her enemy in the leg. With a squeal of pain, he threw her off and loped away, defeated. Now the territory was hers and the hunger began again.

Tina woke with a surge of raw panic. The bathe in the moonlit pool had been useless. Instead her predicament had been further complicated by the appearance of the other wolf and the fierce battle that had ensued.

Miserably, apprehensively, Tina turned on the breakfast television news. The dreaded item was not long in coming.

‘Last night the Mailsham Monster was seen again. Watching policemen saw it roaming the moors but they soon lost track of the wolf, so great was its pace. The hunt is being stepped up today.'

Tina buried her face in her pillow while her mother repeatedly called her down to breakfast. She knew she would be late for school but she had to decide what she was going to do. There was no doubt that Jureg Kalinsky's cure had failed and her dreams had returned, much worse than before.

Tina knew that the only person she could possibly
turn to now was her cousin, Ben. They had always been able to talk so openly, and she
had
to confide in him.