Enchanted (Torn Book 1) Read online

  “I do. They said they’d call round today. I need to stay in.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Mark said. “I loved her.”

  I look up at him, and he nods.

  “Yes, that’s what I mean. I’ve been in love with her for years.”

  “You never said anything…”

  “You know how she felt, she says it … said it … all the time … known each other so long … too long to fancy each other. Not true for me.”

  “But … you have liked other people – that girl last night?”

  “Self preservation.”

  I nod. I guess a part of me knew.

  “I can’t go with you. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. But … I have to go. I can’t stay here. I can’t go back to our Halls and be there. And her not be there.”

  He picks up his coffee and drains it, then stands and puts on his jacket.

  “I’ll see you soon…” I say, hoping that it is true.

  “Will you come home too?” he asks. “Later, after you’ve talked to the police?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to. Being at home won’t make me feel better. I’m going to see Alfie still as he knows more about this. I’m going to find out more and see if I can do something.”

  He nods. “Be careful, won’t you?”

  I nod too, although I’m not sure this is a situation where I’ll be able to be careful. It is amazing how quickly life can fall apart.

  He leaves.

  I am alone.

  I sit on the sofa doing nothing; too numb to formulate thoughts. Eventually the police woman from last night is at my door. We sit at the table. She asks me question after question. She asks about the guy Trish was dancing with last night, and more about my attack too. She asks more details about what I can remember about the guy’s face. Both guys’ faces.

  She goes.

  I am alone again.

  I do nothing all day.

  I sit and sit and eventually I start to think again. I think about Trish and her life which has now ended; I remember playing in the playground as kids, starting big school together, our hugs and fall outs. She always wanted to do stuff, never could sit still for long. She loved dancing. She loved guys. She was always excited about something, psyching me up for some event; it could be anything, she always made things seem like they would be great. And with her they were. She was such a good friend. And Mark was in love with her. Poor Mark. He looked so vulnerable. Broken.

  We are both broken.

  I get up and walk to the mirror. I peel back the bandage from my neck and look at the injury there. It is healing now, but I can still clearly see where he sank his teeth into my neck. Could it have been the same guy who bit Trish? Or are there more like him? Could the guy she was dancing with have done it? And I left her alone with him…

  I leave my bandage off and chuck it in the bin. If Trish was here now we’d be talking about vampires … more about whether they could be real … whether it could really be possible.

  What did you see, Trish? Was it just like it was with me? Did you know what was going on? Did you realise … you were going to … die?

  What was your last thought?

  I wonder what Alfie really knows about this. He did fight that guy off, so he probably does know something. I wish he had been there with us last night, then maybe he would have saved Trish.

  Suddenly the guy from last night enters my mind; I can’t believe I’d forgotten about him and … that kiss. Our lips just touched … but the way he made me feel…. I don’t even know his name. I was kissing him when Trish died. If I hadn’t been … if I had kept looking for her instead of dancing … things may have been different. It wasn’t my fault though, I know this. It was whoever did it. Whatever did it: A vampire? A vampire wannabe?

  Time passes very slowly. I feel incapable of any action and like my brain is not functioning properly. I pass the day watching TV, although not really concentrating on it. At night I can’t sleep, and when I do I wake in a cold sweat with my heart pounding, flashes of vampires and Trish lying there on the ground, her neck covered in blood.

  In the morning I get up, get ready, trying to keep things normal again, but I can’t bring myself to do any work. I feel a weight on my shoulders, like I should be getting on with it, and I don’t want to let my client down, yet I need longer to get my head straight.

  Alfie turns up in the afternoon. I plod to the door, expecting him, but I can’t summon any excitement for his visit. If he’s playing a joke on me … if he’s not a werewolf … if he can’t do anything…. Although he did save me when I was attacked. Maybe he could do something anyway and help me catch whoever did this. To stop it happening to anyone else.

  I open the door and he’s standing there with a wide smile. It falls off his face when he meets my eyes.

  “What’s happened?” he asks.

  I shake my head, not knowing how to say it, and wave him inside. I show him an article online; a picture of Trish, a description of what happened.

  “My friend,” I say, as explanation, tears leaking down my cheeks.

  Alfie’s jaw clenches and he takes me in his arms, holding my head against his chest, stroking my hair. He feels very solid and radiates warmth.

  I calm down eventually and he lets me go.

  “I hate vampires,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “So … are you really planning on showing me you turning into a werewolf? Or is it a joke? Because I really can’t handle that as a joke right now,” I say.

  “Nope, I’m deadly serious.”

  I study his face through my puffed up eyes. His eyes with those amber rings certainly look serious.

  “What’s the plan then? Can we just sit here until you change?” I say, hoping that is the case. My motivation levels are at an all time low.

  “Nope again, sorry! When I turn into a wolf I need to be able to run around, and I can’t do that here in the city. We’re going to the woods.”

  “Err … great. What time will you change?” I try not to sound sarcastic, but I know I fail. My despair and the ridiculousness of this situation are combining to make me not the best of company.

  “Look. This isn’t just a whim, me showing you this. I want to show you – I think it will help you understand all of this. Make it real. I promise you I am a werewolf, and that I will turn. It will happen when the moon rises, which is soon after it gets dark, so we better get a move on.”

  “Ok then … if you’re sure.” If he really is a werewolf I will be asking a thousand questions, but in this state of unknowing I decide I’m just going to have to go with the plan. I have a sudden thought. “But … if you really do turn into a werewolf … err … how will I get home?”

  “I have it all set up – you’ll soon see,” he says, and gives me a playful wink. “Wrap up warm.”

  WOLF

  I do as Alfie says; what have I to lose right now? I follow him out to a motorbike; he has a spare helmet which he puts on my head, and then tells me to get on behind him. I climb on and wrap my arms around his waist, scared I will fall off as soon as he pulls away.

  “I’ve never been on a motorbike before,” I admit.

  “Don’t worry, just hold on tight,” he says, and even though I cannot see his face I can tell he is smiling. His tone does not increase my confidence, and I wonder what kind of night I have let myself in for.

  Alfie opens up the throttle and we’re off up the hill towards the main road. My heart is in my throat, and I clutch onto him as tightly as I can. I close my eyes as we join the traffic and he winds his way about, and I hold my breath as he goes onto the other side of the road to overtake something. I feel him chuckle.

  Soon we are out of the city and Alfie turns off onto country lanes; I relax against his back and start to enjoy the ride, my emotions lifting a tad. He turns off-road into a field where there is an open gate, and drives to its far reaches – it’s very bumpy, and I again clutch onto Alfie’s clothes. We come
to a stop next to another gate.

  “From here we walk,” he explains.

  I follow him over the gate and around the edge of the field where the grass is shorter. Up ahead I spot a tent.

  “That’s our destination,” Alfie says.

  When we get there I can see how much thought he has put into this – the tent, a campfire, all already prepared. I suddenly worry about what he’s planning – what he’s expecting. I’m in the middle of nowhere here; I can’t just go home if I’m in trouble.

  He spots the concern on my face.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “You are quite safe. The tent is for you, not us. Have a look.”

  It is a little dark-blue dome tent. I get down on my hands and knees and unzip the front. Inside there’s one thick sleeping bag on a camp bed, a big pile of blankets, a six-pack of beer and a bag filled with snacks. Looks like I’m really going to be camping in November. Great.

  I hear movement outside, and turn around. Alfie is lighting the camp fire. It’s about five metres from the tent, and near it there’s a large log to sit on. I go over and sit on it, watching Alfie as he pushes a lit match against some kindling. It’s quite a cosy spot he’s chosen, in a slight hollow near a hedge. The tree line is about twenty metres away. It would be perfect if it was summer and Trish and Mark were here. If Trish wasn’t … dead.

  “There’s a pile of wood just there,” Alfie says, pointing. “Put more on when it starts to die down.”

  The fire suddenly blazes with light, and then starts smoking, and then the smaller twigs catch. I watch as the flames lick at the larger logs, and then I look up at the darkening sky. At least it’s not raining, although it’s good the sky is overcast, otherwise it would be icy.

  Alfie comes and sits right next to me on the log, his arm touching mine.

  “Not long now, ’bout half an hour to go. You want a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  He hands me one and sits down, opening his own. It’s a can this time so I manage to open it without the aid of his teeth.

  “Are you ready?” he says. He talks quickly, excited I guess.

  I look at him, really look at him, again. His eyes are all sparkly and he’s smiling at me, but not in a joking way; he really seems to believe this is going to happen.

  “If you … err … change … what will happen?”

  “When,” he says, emphasising the word strongly, “I change, you will be jaw-droppingly amazed. I’m not going to explain what it will look like, soon you will see. You will probably be scared, but I promise you don’t need to be. Not of me, or of anything else. When I’ve changed my smell sense is enhanced and I can smell vampires – not that they leave the city anyway. You will see me run around, and I will run into the woods to hunt, but I will always stay close enough that I would smell if there was any threat to you.”

  “And you won’t be a threat?”

  “No way! I’m fully in control as a wolf, have been changing for years. I would never hurt you. I can come right up to you and all will be fine.”

  “How long will you be a wolf for?” I say, hardly believing I’m in this situation, having this conversation. Life has certainly taken a strange turn.

  “Most of the night. Should change back just before five a.m.”

  He chugs back the rest of his drink and stands up, a near silhouette now as darkness is quickly descending, and then starts taking off his clothes. I watch him, shocked.

  “What, you expect me to let my clothes rip as I change?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Still don’t think I believe you,” I say.

  He laughs. “It will happen in a minute. You’ll believe me soon and then your whole world will change,” he says, his eyes dancing.

  He whips off his t-shirt while I’m still looking into his eyes – exposing his bare chest. I don’t have a chance to look away, and I know my eyes visibly widen as I take him in. I was right about him being muscly – his body looks rock solid and he even has a six pack. He is lightly tanned and his chest hair-free.

  I glance away, then back at his face, and he’s smiling at me in a, ‘I saw you looking,’ kind of way.

  I grin and shrug, “Hey, if you don’t want me to look don’t strip in front of me!”

  He kicks off his boots and then unbuttons his jeans, and this time I do have time to avert my gaze, but I can’t for long.

  “You’re going to have to look at me again you know; you won’t be able not to look when I start to change,” he says.

  I look back at him and fortunately he has kept his boxers on. If he really changes into a wolf I suppose they’ll rip off him, but I guess losing a pair of boxers is worth it to maintain his modesty.

  He jigs up and down, looking off to the horizon.

  “I feel so psyched right before I change.”

  I laugh at him; his mood is infectious, but say, “I can’t believe I’m in this situation…”

  He laughs loudly. “I wonder what you’ll be saying in the morning.”

  He goes still and closes his eyes, then suddenly his back arches forwards, he bends his legs and his arms are supporting his weight on the floor, his muscles flexed. He tilts his head in my direction, opens his eyes and winks, then his eyes flash amber, then go back to normal again, then flash with warmth, then … things start to happen. Fur starts growing, at the same time as his form starts to change …

  He’s changing…

  Really…

  Actually changing…

  I don’t know where to look, it’s like ripples of movement are passing from his head, down his arms, towards his hands, and down his legs, towards his feet, and with each ripple his body flexes and changes, and grows. It’s mesmerising, my heart is hammering; I can’t believe what I’m seeing … his face is the weirdest thing, covered in brown fur, his eyes closed again, the lower region of his face growing, extending, ears sprouting from the top of his head. There’s a ripping noise as his boxers come apart at the seams – I was expecting it, but I was not expecting it. I look back to his hands and they are now paws. I glance to his feet: more paws.

  He sits back on his behind and he is no longer Alfie. Or he is. But Alfie the wolf. He’s a werewolf. Oh my God. He just turned into a wolf.

  What the hell?!!!

  What is going on in my life?

  He’s not just a wolf – but an enormous wolf. It’s awe-inspiring. He tilts his head back and howls. The sound echoes around the valley and through my heart. He gets up and shakes his whole body, all his lush, soft-looking, brown fur – the same colour as his hair – rustles with the movement. Then he goes still and opens his eyes, and they are a steady glowing amber. He looks right at me, his mouth open, a big red tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He squeezes both of his eyes shut, and then opens them again.

  “Hi,” I say, in a whispered voice.

  He lifts his right paw a little in response, and then takes a step towards me. My heart leaps, and I try to get back, but realise I’m sitting down as I nearly fall off the log. He stops and doesn’t come any closer. Instead he winks one of his glowing eyes, and then shoots off towards the treeline. I watch him go and disappear into the darkness of the woodland.

  I’m sitting on the log alone, the fire crackling and giving off warmth – I can feel it through my clothes. The wind is rustling through the tree tops. Birds are chirping.

  Alfie just turned into a wolf.

  He was right.

  He is a werewolf.

  Werewolves do exist.

  Oh my God.

  I realise my heart is racing, my hands sweaty. I’ve been clutching my drink in my hands so tightly the can is dented. I put it down on the floor and try to stand up, but my legs are shaking so much I sit back down. I take a deep breath.

  There’s a howl from the forest.

  I shiver, looking around. It’s the time of evening when shadows are haunting, and it is creepy enough without howling from the forest. But it’s Alfie. Alfie who saved my life. And he tu
rned into a werewolf right in front of me. He didn’t hurt me.

  I take another deep breath.

  And another.

  I see movement and it’s the wolf coming back.

  It’s Alfie, I tell myself. He won’t hurt me.

  Alfie the wolf slows as he approaches, and this time I make myself not flinch as he gets closer. I hold out my hand, and he walks towards me, on four legs, his coat gleaming in the fire light. My gaze is locked on his amber eyes. My breathing is fast, and my hand shaking, but I keep holding it out and he comes right up to me.

  He is so big that his eyes are level with mine. He is panting from running in the woods and I can feel his warm breath. His nose, cold and wet, brushes against my finger-tips, and then hesitantly I stroke the fur on the top of his nose. He stays very still – I’m guessing he’s trying not to scare me. I move my hand over the top of his head, between his large pointy ears. His fur is very thick. I reach out with my other hand and stroke the fur around his neck.

  Then he licks my cheek.

  “Ewe!!” I say, taking my hands away, and he winks at me again, his eyes laughing, then he trots away back towards the trees, as I wipe my face on my sleeve.

  I manage to get to my feet, keeping my eyes on the way he went, and then go to the tent to get out a blanket. I wrap it around myself, making myself feel not only warmer, but more secure. It’s really dark now, and I can’t see beyond the area of the camp that’s lit by the fire. I look to the sky, it is dark but I can still just about make out the horizon where sky meets trees.

  I go back and sit by the fire, pick up my drink and absentmindedly sip at it.

  Alfie turned into a wolf.

  Alfie turned into a wolf!

  It keeps repeating over and over in my head.

  I feel exhilarated. It’s unbelievable. This world exists, the world from movies and books. It’s not all fictional. It’s actually based on the truth. Werewolves exist. Which means … which means … Alfie was telling the truth. The guy that bit me … he really was a vampire. Trish … she was killed by a vampire. There are vampires in Exeter. There are werewolves… Not just one. Many. Many vampires. Many werewolves.