Dead Angels Read Free

screeched.
    Sam was kneeling on all fours on the bed. His arms and legs were locked rigid, his spine a series of white lumps glowing through the flesh that now seemed to stretch over his back. I took hold of Kayla’s arm and yanked her back, away from the bed.
    “We’ve got to help him, Isidor!” she screamed.
    “I don’t think we can,” I said, pulling her tight against me.
    Sam dropped onto the mattress, where he rolled onto his back. He opened his mouth and released a series of painful sounding howls. His cracked lips started to bleed as they began to tear. Then, throwing his arms up into the air, we stood and watched as Sam’s fingers began to stretch and elongate. Turning his head in our direction, Sam snapped open his eyes and looked at us. They shone a bright yellow, and lit up the room.
    “ Help me ,” he pleaded and clutched at the air with the claws that had now formed at the end of each of his wrists. It was the first time that I’d heard Sam speak since we had brought him to the manor, and his voice sounded deep, as if he were gargling on a throat full of gravel.
    “Does he always sound like that?” I asked Kayla.
    “No, Isidor,” she whispered, her own voice sounding confused and lost.
    Then, over the sound of the approaching thunder and the roar of the wind, Sam began to howl as his whole body seemed to stretch and twist out of shape. His feet began to grow, each toe capped with an ivory-looking nail. Sam’s pyjama bottoms began to tear as his calf and thigh muscles rippled beneath the material.
    A ‘V’ shape of fur broke out down the front of his chest and glistened in the glow of the lamp. Thick lengths of fur bristled down each of his meaty forearms, and thinned over the back of his new claws. Then, Sam’s face began to change shape. His nose grew longer taking on the shape of a snout. His ears stretched into points on either side of his face, and black hair grew from beneath his chin, giving him a beard that even I would have been proud of.
    Once the transformation had taken place, Sam collapsed onto his side and lay panting like a tired dog on a hot summer’s day. He looked at us, and Kayla began to sob. Sam didn’t look like a wolf, but then again, he didn’t look like a teenage boy anymore – he looked half and half. He looked half boy and half wolf – a half breed – and if he survived, I understood the torment that he would go through. Maybe that’s why Kayla stood sobbing in my arms. Not because she feared him, but because she knew that living the life of a half-breed was a hard one. It was a curse.
    Then, in a voice that sounded as if it was consumed with pain, Sam stared at us with his burning eyes and said, “Kayla, help me. Please.” 
    “How?” she whispered.
    “Take me to the Fountain of Souls,” he pleaded.

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Kiera
     
    Potter reached Sam’s bedroom just before me. With his long legs, he had climbed the stairs two at a time. As he charged at them, I saw his claws shoot from his fingertips. Halfway up the stairs, the sound of howling echoed around the upper reaches of the manor, and with a flick of my wrists, my own claws sprang out.
    Inside the room, Potter suddenly paused, and I had to pull up sharp to stop myself from clattering into him. He stood next to Kayla and Isidor who were rooted to the floor and staring down at the bed. I looked to see what had drawn their attention, and was shocked by what I saw peering up at us from the glow of the lamp. Sam lay on his side, but he didn’t exactly look like Sam anymore. He had grown in size and two giant fur-covered feet hung over the end of the bed. His hands were huge claws, and his fingernails looked as sharp as a set of dinner knives. But it was his face. He looked half wolf and half boy. His eyes burnt a fierce yellow and they reminded me of Jack Seth’s – they reminded me of the Skin-walkers.
    Part of me feared him, but another part of me pitied him, as he lay on his side panting