Young Writers Society

Chapter Three

The sun had risen by the time Seb rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. He held his hands up in front of his face and smiled sleepily at them, quietly thrilled that they were no longer paws - as cool as being granted a wolf's body was, it was nice to have thumbs again. He rolled onto his other side, stretching in the warmth of weak autumn sunlight.

His eyes opened properly this time, glazed over and hazy but open nonetheless. He yelped and scrambled under the duvet as soon as his gaze fell onto the stranger - and he quickly tore it away again, heat rising in his face -, reaching for the pile of clothes on the floor.

The stranger was curled up tightly on the pillow as if he were still a wolf, with his back to Seb and the rest of the world. His ribs jutted sickeningly with every breath, each individual bone horrifyingly visible under a thin canvas of tanned, scarred skin. His spine looked as if it were about to burst from his back. His arms and legs were sticks, made only of wasting muscle and skin and covered in a dark, malnourished fuzz.

Now that Seb was wearing something at least - yesterday’s too-big T-shirt, and an old pair of tracksuit trousers -, he grabbed his blanket, the chewed up rag that lay on his bed and had an cheery embroidered kitten on it. He didn’t want to hazard a guess as to how old it was, or how many diseases it probably carried.

The wood groaned in protest as he began to push his full weight against the floor. His heart leapt in his chest like a skittish horse as he edged closer to the stranger, the floorboards creaking louder with every step closer. And of course every joint in his stiff feet started to pop and crackle while he went. Each inch was agonizingly slow progress, almost unnoticeable, until he was within an arm’s length of the slumbering beast. 

Beast? That’s a bit mean.

Seb leaned forward, positioning the blanket in the air before he dared to drop it. Come on, Sebastian. You can do this. Channel your inner alpha male. C’mon! He screwed his eyes shut, listened for a moment solely to the pounding of blood in his ears, and then let go of the blanket. It flopped in the air, coming to rest over the stranger’s hips.

He cringed backwards and froze.

Nothing.

The stranger didn’t even stir. A rather dark part of Seb wondered, almost unconcerned, if he was dead.

“’Bastian!” The door swung open, and Seb leaped away from the stranger. Juana toddled in like she did most mornings, claws hanging from her half-shifted hands. Rough wolf-fuzz muddied her face, and her fangs had grown in her mouth and poked out over her lips.

The stranger murmured something inaudible and turned over to face Seb and Juana, eyes half-open and staring dully. He jolted awake, scrambling up against the wall with a blood-curdling cry that died halfway through its arc.

Seb pushed Juana away gently. She was tense and unable to take her eyes away from the stranger. “Later, ‘kay Juana?”

She nodded faintly as Seb pushed the door shut and turned to the stranger. He’d since composed himself and grabbed a hoodie to cover his chest with, but not before Seb had spotted the spider’s web of scars that criss-crossed themselves across his body. They were bites, scratches, things that resembled bullet wounds. Some half-healed, some scars from years ago - and some looked as if they could've been delivered yesterday.

Seb tried not to recoil. “Um... Good morning?”

The stranger looked up at him unblinkingly, almost expressionless apart from what Seb could have sworn was the slight raising of an eyebrow.

“Okay, then... You can wear whatever you like,” he gestured to the wardrobe, “and come down for breakfast whenever you’d like... I mean, sooner rather than later, right? And then...” Seb trailed off when he got no kind of response.

He tried again. “Do... Do you even have a name?”

Nothing.

“Okay. I’ll, uh, be downstairs...” Seb sidled from the room like an awkward fourteen-year-old, taking the stairs three steps at a time. He passed through the crowded second floor, where Juana’s clothes and toys lay strewn over the carpet, and then down to the cool, cramped kitchen. Riley, Tiffany, and Juana were already eating.

“’Bastian!” Juana squealed, throwing milk and sodden grain over the table in some strange expression of glee.

“Good morning, Juana,” he smiled, before he turned on Riley and Tiffany.

“What the hell were you thinking? He’s a... He doesn’t talk. He just sits there and stares at you! And he’s just covered in scars, I bet he’s some weirdo who picks fights or something... And you just invited him in and gave him my room!”

Riley looked up from toast, her hair wild and sticking up in all directions like dry straw. “He was hurt and alone. You know the full moon does funny things to our heads. He could’ve gotten himself killed,”

“I have bite marks on my tailbone because of him!”

“You scared him.” Tiffany said, “good lord, Seb. Give him a chance.”

“Hmph,” he huffed and snatched a piece of bread from the loaf in the middle of the table. He sunk down into a chair and laid his head in his arms, praying for God to smite him where he sat. No-one spoke.

Creaking on the stairs caught his attention. The stranger made his way down, the wood bending under the weight of a skeleton ghost as he drifted down. He’d chosen a t-shirt, a hoodie around his waist, and some loose jeans. His face was thin and wolfish, pale but olive-toned at the same time. Dark circles smudged under his eyes and accented his glare. He was a demon, a dark-eyed demon, that no-one had the sense to exorcise.

“Okay, well, I’m going out with Tanvi today, so...”

“You can take this young man with you,” Riley said, smiling at the stranger, “good morning. Feel free to eat whatever you like.”

He nodded without a smile and kept his demon-glare over them, gingerly reaching for a slice of bread. Seb turned his gaze away, pushing his chair away from the table and making for the front door.

“I’m going to meet Tanvi now, so if you want to come...” Seb grumbled, motioning to the front door. The stranger nodded and took one more piece of bread, chewing noisily on the bread as he followed.

Seb’s street was full of houses made of crumbling bricks, mismatched and off-kilter like crooked teeth in a broken jaw. The houses were all the same, like useless clones all the way up until the canal. On the other side of the canal were disused factories and tenacious weeds growing in the cracks in the concrete.

It was their favourite meeting place.

Tanvi sat on the grafittied wall, the stained one that stood between the canal and the path. She wore her favourite hoodie and leggings. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose plait and tucked over one shoulder.

“Hey, Seb.” there was no trace of India in her voice. She’d picked up a perfect British accent over the years. “Who’s this?”

The stranger gave his perfect, undisturbed demon-stare.

“This is the latest adoption. He doesn't say much...”

“Huh.” Tanvi smiled a little uncomfortably under the stare, “I’m Tanvi, and I’m Seb’s friend. I hope I can be yours too. What’s your name?”

Nothing. Seb had expected as much. The stranger turned away, leaning over the filthy water and gazing into it.

Seb looked from Tanvi to the stranger and sighed. He and Tanvi had been spending weekends together like this for years. They didn’t have to hide their wolves from each other - Seb didn’t have to fake humanity.

She gestured toward the derelict warehouses on the other side of the canal, less enthusiastically than usual.

“Shall we?”