Chapter One – On the Run
Chase crouched behind the bin, panting for breath. He clutched at a stitch in his side, heart pounding like a steel drum. Blood filled his mouth from a gash to his lip tasting coppery and thick, coating his teeth and tongue.
Rain dripped into his eyes and down the back of his collar from a broken drainpipe. He blinked the water from his lashes. His head was spinning sickeningly and he felt nauseous. He needed rest, and food, but there was no time for that. All he could do was run; run and hide and pray they never found him. He shifted awkwardly, trying to ease cramped muscles. The space between the wall and the bin was too small to accommodate his six-foot frame, and his shoulders were scraping against the brickwork.
The light from the streetlamp reached less than a foot into the alleyway, leaving the rest in darkness; Chase could only just make out the stack of crates a little further down, and rubbish spilled across the ground from a bin.
He sucked in another breath, feeling the cool air sting his throat and lungs and shuddered as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the alley.
“The kid came down here.”
Chase chanced a quick glance out from behind the bin. Two men stood silhouetted against the orange glow of the streetlamp. One was looking down the street, the other peering into the alleyway.
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t…but I’m not going to go down there and look. They’re vicious when they’re cornered.” The smaller of the two men glanced away from the street and then back again. He shifted from foot to foot.
“Do you want to get paid?” The taller man took two steps into the alley and Chase tensed. “We got a bounty. We don’t bring him in, we don’t get the money.” He took another two steps.
The smaller man clenched his fists at his sides, grimaced and reached into his jacket. The light glinted on the metal of a gun as he followed his companion into the alley. They were edging forward, watching every shadow for movement.
Chase took a deep breath and waited until they were only feet away from him before springing. He caught the larger man full in the chest, sending him reeling backwards into the brick wall. They both fell but Chase rolled away and scrambled upright. The man was still struggling to his feet as Chase whirled around – only to come face to face with the barrel of the gun. It didn’t look quite like a normal gun, but the dark hole of the barrel looked real enough. The gun lashed out and smashed into his temple. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he staggered backwards.
“Easy now boy,” the smaller man said softly as Chase regained his footing and lunged back towards him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I get paid more if I take you in alive…”
Chase took another step forward and snarled, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth, and eyes that for a moment seemed to glow yellow.
The man sighed, and pulled the trigger.
Staggering back with the impact Chase looked down, expecting to see blood, instead he saw a small feathered dart. Numbness spread across his chest and his vision blurred.
“What…what did you…”
“Don’t worry kid, you’ll be fine.” The man holstered his gun, watching as Chase stumbled back against the wall. The other man stepped forward and grabbed Chase before he fell, twisting his arms up behind him.
Chase fought the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision, and struggled against the fingers digging into his upper arms. But the darkness and numbness were winning.
“You might want to let him go…”
The voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. Chase blinked and tried to focus his blurred vision. Someone stood behind the smaller of the two men. A man with a pale face and frighteningly blue eyes.
It was the end of August and for once an English summer was living up to expectations. At eight in the evening, it was still light, and the warm air was stirred by the faintest of breezes.
The grass of the Common had turned slightly brown, but it still passed as a football, cricket and rugby field to the local kids. At the far end t-shirts and bottles of water were doubling as the markers for a try-line and a group of seventeen and eighteen year olds sweated and panted in just their shorts.
“Chase! Pass the bloody ball!”
Chase sidestepped one of the opposition as they tried to tackle him. “No chance. I’m scoring this one!”
The next flying tackle caught him round the knees and he stretched himself out to slam the ball down on the other side of the try-line markers.
He gasped for breath even as one of the others nudged him none too gently with one foot.
“Mike, I think you killed him.”
“Just winded!” Chase groaned and sat up with one hand still to his ribs. “I scored though.”
He was helped to his feet and his team mates slapped him on the back whilst the others roundly abused him.
He glanced at his watch as he grabbed the ball off the ground. “Now I’d love to give you lot the chance to equalise, but I’ve gotta get home. Mum wants me to have a family dinner before I head back to school.” He made a face as he dug his t-shirt out of the pile and pulled it over his head.
“Yeah right, you’re just worried we’ll kick your arse,” Mike said slapping him on the back. “Never mind, we’ll do it when you’re back for Christmas.”
He laughed. “In your dreams. See you later guys,” he waved one hand over his shoulder as he made his way out of the park and onto the main road. It was just getting dark as he crossed the road and cut down a back alley.. The sun was on the horizon, but overhead the full moon had already risen. Green wheelie bins stuck out of garden gates and a startled cat shot over a fence as he approached. Other than that the night was quiet and still.
Half way home the silence was broken by a growl from behind him. He paused and looked back. Nothing moved. He turned to keep walking when he heard the padding of paws on the tarmac behind him. He stopped again.
The deep throated growl started again, and grew louder. Padding out of the shadows came the biggest dog he had ever seen. In the moonlight he couldn’t work out what breed it was, all he saw were gleaming fangs.
The monster sprang towards him and he tried to dodge out of the way. One great paw caught him on the shoulder and he stumbled and fell backwards. The creature was on him in seconds, its hot breath on his face. The next moment all he felt was excruciating pain.
It was like moving through thick fog. Chase’s entire body felt like lead, and his eyes wouldn’t open. He knew he was awake though. He could sense movement around him, and could hear the clinking of metal, the purring of a machine – and voices.
“They nearly got another one then?” A woman’s voice, low with a rich timbre. He felt fingers brush his forehead.
“Do they have to be so rough with them, Peter?” she spoke again.
They? A memory stirred in Chase’s sluggish mind. Two men. Guns. And blue eyes. He fought to wake up properly, but his body was unresponsive. There had been someone else in the alley…
The man called Peter spoke. “Sometimes they don’t have a choice.” Chase heard the clacking of keys. “Look.”
“Lycanthropy?” The woman asked.
“Almost definitely. It’s quite close to the full moon as well. They would have struggled to restrain him. You know how the wolf can take over.”
They knew; they knew what he was. Chase fought harder to wake up, and realised why he couldn’t move; he was strapped down. Leather straps bound his legs and arms to cold metal, and another crossed over his chest.
“He’s waking up!” The man had moved closer to Chase. “Quickly, Silver, fetch another dose of tranquilizer. He’ll hurt himself. He doesn’t know his own strength yet.”
With what felt like superhuman effort, Chase managed to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was an older man leaning over him. The man’s glasses were set so far down his nose that they were in danger of falling off, and his grey hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a month. He was smiling though. A reassuring, fatherly smile.
“Calm down. Relax, you’re safe.”
Chase struggled against his bonds, and managed to rip one arm out of the strap holding it. The woman approached with a syringe in her hand. He knocked it away.
“Who are you? What are you doing to me?” Chase wanted to shout and rage at them, but all he could manage was a whisper.
“We’re trying to help. Please calm down…!”
“No…you’re with them…those men!” He fought harder. “They tried to kill me…”
“No they didn’t. They darted you…to bring you in to the Department safely, but we got to you in time.”
“Who? What?” Chase fought to remember, and then he felt a sharp prick in his arm. He turned his head to see the silver haired woman stepping away, the syringe back in her hand. He looked at her in horror as the room began to spin around him.
“Why the hell didn’t he tell the boy he was there to help?” He heard Silver ask.
“The Department must have reached him first. He ran from them, and when Maladict turned up he must have assumed they were all on the same side.” Peter sounded old and tired.
Chase was losing consciousness again, but just before he completely passed out he was sure he heard Silver say something about a vampire. Just where in the world had he ended up?
The ceiling was so white that it hurt Chase’s eyes when he finally came to; a bright fluorescent light buzzed overhead. He winced and snapped them shut again; listening instead. Somewhere close by he could hear the soft purr of a machine, a gentle and regular beeping, and the sound of distant voices.
Then, very close at hand, he heard something else.
“I know you’re there,” he said, without opening his eyes. “I can hear you breathing.”
He heard a soft exclamation; female was Chase’s guess - a gentle hand covered his eyes.
“Open your eyes slowly. The sedative can make you a bit sensitive to light. Let me know when they stop hurting, and I’ll move my hand.” Her voice was soft, young, and more than a little timorous.
Chase slowly opened his eyes. At first he could see nothing, but then the girl lifted her hand slightly and light filtered in. He could make out the contours of her fingers, and the glint of a simple silver ring.
After a few minutes he nodded, and the hand lifted. He looked up into a pair of green eyes framed by dark lashes – and then she was gone.
“Who are you? Where am I? What happened?”
“One question at a time,” the girl said with a soft chuckle. She moved around just out of his line of vision and returned with a cup of water. She set it down on the table beside him and helped him to sit up. He winced as the movement sent sharp shooting pains across his chest, and made his head spin sickeningly. An IV line was attached to his arm and two small disks had been stuck to the bare skin of his chest, wre
He took a sip of water. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Sarah,” she moved away from him again; he craned his neck trying to keep her in sight. At first he’d thought she was quite young, but looking at her more closely, he guessed she was about the same age as him, just rather petite and fine boned. “Most people around here just call me Vixen.”
“Why are you here? Where is here?” He coughed as his throat protested its lack of use. He gulped down more water and twisted his neck to keep his eye on her as she moved around the room.
“You really don’t know?” she looked at him quizzically and sighed. “You’re in the Institute…”
“The Institute of what?”
“Nothing, just ‘The Institute’,” She reached out one hand to touch his face and he flinched away. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you’ve got a nasty gash on your head and I just need to check it…”
“What are you? Some kind of nurse?” He was still defensive, but let her touch his scalp with gentle fingers. He winced as she brushed the throbbing lump where the gun had caught him.
“I’m not a nurse, no. Peter often asks me to watch over the new arrivals…” she gave him a tiny smile. “He thinks I have a calming influence.”
“Who’s Peter?”
She chuckled, “You know, most new arrivals are so dazed they can barely string two words together when they first wake up. You on the other hand…”
“Hey, listen, the last thing I remember was being chased by two lunatics with guns…one of them shot me. Then I wake up here. I want to know what’s going on.”
She looked at him intently for a moment, and glanced towards the door at the end of the room. “Alright. Do you know why those men where chasing you?”
Chase looked away, his whole body stiffening. “Because…because I’m different.”
“Because you’re a werewolf,” Vixen corrected him.
There was no fear in her voice. No revulsion. For a moment Chase was so shocked that he simply stared at her.
“You’re not the only one.” Vixen said with a shrug.
“Are you a were-wolf?”
She rolled her eyes, “No, I’m a shape-shifter. I can take on the form of almost any animal I like. I prefer foxes. But we have all sorts here. Witches, psychics, werewolves, vampires…the list goes on.”
“Why are they all here though? What exactly is the Institute?” Her blasé answers were starting to irritate him.
“I suppose it’s a children’s home of sorts. Silver and Peter rescue kids from The Department all the time…”
“The Department…?”
“Those lovely gentlemen who smacked you over the back of the head and tranquilised you…”
The new voice spoke from the doorway and Chase turned to look. A young man lounged against the doorframe. He was tall, easily six foot or more, and almost too slim for his height. Dark hair was worn long to his shoulders and his eyes were such a light blue that they looked almost clear. There was something familiar about him.
As the man stepped into the room Chase felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a growl started low in his throat.
“Easy…good doggy…” the man said, approaching the bed.
Chase grimaced and flushed, embarrassed by the involuntary noise. “Sorry…”
“Don’t be. It’s a natural reaction to my kind.”
“Your kind?” Chase forced the words out between clenched teeth as he tried to keep the growl in.
“Vampire.” He smiled, revealing two perfect, elongated canines. “Maladict’s the name.”
Chase tried not to flinch when Maladict held out his hand to shake. It felt cold and his skin was dry as paper. “Chase.”
“Welcome to the Institute Chase…”
“Thanks…I think.” He frowned at the vampire. The word sounded strange even in his own head. A month ago if someone had calmly introduced themselves as a vampire he would have suggested that a stay in the loony bin was urgently required. But a month ago he had transformed in to a snarling beast, so he was about ready to accept anything. “Do I know you?”
Maladict shrugged, “We met. Very briefly. I just came by to make sure that you were still alive.” He glanced at the beeping machines and then back at Chase. “Which you are. I’ll leave you to Vixen.”
“Is he always like that?” Chase asked as the door swung shut behind him.
Vixen glanced towards the door. “What? You mean sarcastic, and just a little bit patronising?” She shrugged. “He’s a vampire, he can’t help it. I think it comes from having to keep up the whole tortured soul image.”
Chase held back a smile as he caught Vixen’s eye, but then he turned serious. This is crazy, this whole place is crazy. Vixen gave him a soft, gentle smile.
“You’ll get used to it round here…it’ll take a while, but…”
She stopped talking as the door opened again. An older man stepped into the room. He smiled when he saw Chase sitting up.
“How is our patient, Miss Metcalfe?” He asked Vixen as he inspected the monitors.
“The patient is fine,” Chase said, irritated at being talked about as though he wasn’t there. He tugged the two small rubber disks off his chest and swung his legs round off the bed. “Are you Peter? I get the impression that I’m going to be staying here a while. Am I some kind of prisoner?”
“No!” Peter turned, his eyes wide. “Of course you’re not a prisoner…”
Chase hesitated briefly and then stood up. “In that case, I want to get out of here.”
Vixen coughed loudly and studiously inspected the ceiling.
Chase glanced down. “Ok…what happened to my clothes? I want them back, and then I want to get out of here.”
“It’s not that simple, Mr Finn.” Peter handed him a pair of shorts and waved at him to sit down. “Do you know who informed the Department about you?”
Chase sat down slowly, “There were only two people who knew I’d been bitten…”
“Your mother and father…”
Chase nodded, “But surely…they wouldn’t…”
“It was my brother, in my case” Vixen said, “He saw me change once…next thing I knew, two agents from the Department were knocking on the front door.”
“It doesn’t make sense. What did they do? Look in the Yellow Pages for an ad…’Has your son just turned into a monster? We can help…’”
“Most of the charges I care for here were turned in by a family member Chase. People are scared of what they don’t understand…I imagine they called the police, or an ambulance. The Department has ways of tracking those kinds of calls.”
“My parents wouldn’t do that…they’d accept me…”
Peter sighed, “It’s a difficult thing to accept, Chase. You’re not the young man you were a month ago.”
Hands balled into fists at his sides, Chase forced his words out between clenched teeth. “I don’t care what you say. My parents would never do that to me. They’d try to help…
“And I’m sure they thought they were helping you. No doubt they assumed you needed medical attention.” Peter sighed and touched his shoulder. “Now why doesn’t Vixen show you around? Perhaps you can get some lunch.”
“I’m not really hungry…”
“Well,” Peter passed him a t-shirt and then patted him awkwardly on the arm. “I think it would be good for you to meet some of the other residents. You have a lot in common with most of them…”
Chase shook his head in disbelief and stormed out of the room.