Free Changeling by Steve Feasey Page A

been sown within him. The Wolfan is the normal lycanthropic state.’
    ‘The other form,’ Alexa said, taking over from her father, ‘is known as bimorphism. This is when the lycanthrope changes into a half-man, half-wolf creature. He stands upright like a man, but his body is otherwise that of a wolf. He maintains his thought processes and intelligence, and wields a greater control over the more base urges within him. He will have superhuman strength as well as acute senses of hearing, sight and smell – which may take the form of synaesthesia . . .’
    ‘What on earth is that?’ asked Trey.
    ‘It’s a condition where smells are perceived as colours or sounds.’ Lucien explained, before allowing Alexa to continue.
    ‘He will have extraordinary powers of rejuvenation, making you – sorry, him – almost impossible to kill, and unlike those lycanthropes that have succumbed to the Wolfan, he will have the ability to change shape voluntarily, regardless of whether it is day or night, or indeed what phase the moon may be in.’
    Trey pictured the chaos that he had woken up to in his room that morning. It had occurred to him at the time how much force it must have taken to destroy his trainers so utterly. And then there were the gouges in the metal frame of the window and the plaster walls.
    A small icy shiver ran down his spine.
    ‘The amulet that I gave you was worn by your father.’ Lucien’s voice broke through his thoughts. ‘It is an ancient talisman that contains wolfsbane and can help the wearer control the transformation process. Moreover, its wearer will only ever transform into the bimorphic werewolf state that Alexa described, thus retaining his human faculties and intellect.’ He paused and held the teenager’s stare. ‘It cannot stop all involuntary changes that might occur when you feel extremely threatened or angry, but it allows you to control the condition that you have inherited from birth.’
    ‘I’ll get us some tea,’ said Tom, standing up and exiting the room.
    ‘Is there a . . . cure?’ Trey asked.
    ‘No. You don’t have a disease, Trey, although right now it must seem very much as if you do. But this is what you are. You’re a werewolf, and you will need to learn to cope with that.’
    Trey looked at the faces of the two people left in the room with him, searching for some tiny signal that this was some kind of joke.
    ‘A werewolf,’ he eventually said. ‘How . . . ? I mean, I can’t be . . . it’s not possible . . .’
    ‘Here,’ said Lucien, reaching forward and sliding the book on the table across towards him. Trey turned it over in his hands and read the faded lettering of the title: The Book of Werewolves by Sabine Baring-Gould.
    ‘That should tell you almost everything that you need to know about your “condition”. There are also other books here in the library for you to explore, should you wish, but none are as comprehensive as that tome. It is not a reference book, Trey, but it should give you some background history about your kind. You will have questions. Lots and lots of questions. Ask anything you want, and Alexa and I will try to answer.’
    Trey was numb. He realized how preposterous he must look, sitting there with his staring eyes and his mouth open. He tried to identify the emotion that filled him right now, struggling at first, until he realized that he had experienced it before. It was despair. It was the same feeling of soul-crushing despair that he had felt at the death of his grandmother, and now, as then, it seemed to have hollowed him out, leaving him completely numb.
    Tom came back into the room. Trey didn’t look up until the awkward silence that followed had stretched out for some time. The look on the Irishman’s face did nothing to alleviate the utter dismay he was feeling. ‘I just had a call. You might want to come and see what’s on the news,’ he said. And then, under his breath, added in a whisper, ‘Then again, you might