Chapter 3: Metamorphosis

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* * *

Micah stayed with Jael until her Aunt and Uncle returned, then started back home.

When he opened the door to his house his father and his brother were standing in the kitchen.

Micah eyed them suspiciously, "It's almost ten. Are you guys going to sleep?"

"Full moon tonight." Tyler replied.

"Oh." Micah bit his lip, "Goodnight then."

He started up the stairs.

"Won't you join us?" His father asked, his fur beginning to sprout.

Micah rolled his eyes, "Every full moon you ask the same question." Micah snapped, "And every full moon I give you the same answer. Not no, but hell no."

Mr. Smallwood growled, "You're really starting to bug me."

Micah turned to face him, "I would think you'd be used to it by now."

"That's fine, Micah. Keep pushing." Tyler replied.

"You guys are the one pushing. I'm not interested. What's so great about it anyway? Once a month you grow fur and head out to terrorize teenagers walking in the park at night."

"Powers the reason." Tyler smiled.

"Power, mower. Who cares?" Micah rolled his eyes.

He started up the steps for the second time.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this." he heard his father say, but before he could ponder the meaning of the words something hit him in the back of the head.

Micah hit the floor with a crack, then everything was black.

* * *

The feeling of warm liquid being forced past his lips woke him.

Micah's eyes focused on what was happening around him.

He saw his father standing over him. He saw his brother laughing and holding something to his mouth. Then the slightly familiar taste seemed to register in his mind.

Blood.

Micah pushed them both away and coughed. The coppery taste lingering in his mouth causing him to gag.

His father shoved the victims neck back into Micah's face. More slipped down his throat.

"Get away from me you son of a..." Micah lost his train of thought. His head hurt and he didn't know why. He couldn't remember.

Did he have a concussion?

Why was he here? What had they been doing to him. Finally a flicker of a memory came into focus. His heritage. They had forced him to claim his heritage.

Micah fought the pain and got to his feet.

His brother and father were in wolf form smiling, their canine tongues lolling.

"What have you done to me?" Micah asked, but his voice came out a feral choke.

"It was your destiny, son. We're so glad you could join us."

"Noooo!" Micah yelled, but the end came out a howl.

"Yes, I have given you power. Power greater than anything you've ever known. You should be grateful."

"Grateful?" Micah spat, "I didn't want this."

"Too bad. It's done. You're a werewolf, Micah. Get used to it." Tyler growled.

"No I won't." Micah could feel his body changing and he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of seeing it.

He darted deeper into the woods, not glancing back at his family. A family he wasn't sure he wanted any more.

* * *

The alarm clock went off the next morning.

Micah didn't even remember setting it.

He rolled out of bed and ran a hand through his hair.

What had happened later on in the night? After he had darted he had changed, but everything after that was a blur.

His muscles ached from running away. It had seemed like he had ran forever.

Micah ignored the aches and cramps and walked to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and turned to face the mirror.

His heart leaped into his throat.

"Oh my gosh." he gasped.

His entire body was caked in blood. It was under his nails and all over his arm and chest.

But who's blood? Not his own.

"Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh my gosh." Micah repeated sinking to the floor.

His hands were shaking.

So much red, his thoughts were jumbled.

He pulled himself to the shower and stepped inside.

But no matter how hard he scrubbed the blood still seemed to linger. And maybe others couldn't see it, but he knew where every drop had been.

* * *

Micah walked outside and slung his backpack into the back of the truck, just as Jael walked up.

"Morning." She smiled.

"Were you in trouble?" Micah asked.

"No, surprisingly Robert believed me."

They both got into the car, but the ride was silent.

When they got to school, a thick, almost unnerving presence hung in the air.

Everyone was talking loudly.

They pushed through the groups of kids and walked over to Sterling and Barry.

"What's up?" Micah asked.

"You don't know?" Barry asked.

"Know what?" Jael chimed.

"Melissa Forbes and Hugh McGregor were killed last night." Sterling replied, his voice not at all remorseful.

"Killed?" Jael asked, "How?"

"Not just killed." Barry said, "But mutilated. They were almost unidentifiable."

"Yeah, their insides were on the outside." Sterling laughed.

"That's terrible." Jael replied.

Micah stomach was sinking. He felt dizzy and his heart was pounding.

"Excuse me." he said and ran into the bathroom.

* * *

Micah had vomited for at least an hour it seemed.

He pulled himself from the floor and flushed the toilet.

He was sweating and shaking violently.

Could things possibly get worse?

"Micah, are you okay?" Sterling asked.

Micah sighed, and wiped away a few tears of frustration.

"Yeah."

He came out of the stall.

"What's the matter?" Sterling asked.

Micah toyed with his spiked hair nervously, "Sterling...last night, my father forced me to claim my heritage."

Sterling didn't seem to get it so Micah elaborated.

"This morning I woke up covered in blood and I don't remember where I went or what I did after I changed."

"You killed Hugh and Melissa." he replied, "Good job!"

"Why don't you say it louder so they can hear it in Canada?" Micah shouted.

"Sorry," Sterling regained his composure, "But seriously that's awesome."

"No it isn't. You've been living with this your whole life. I on the other hand don't have a clue as to how to deal with this." Micah leaned against the wall.

"It's simple. Don't kill humans." Sterling replied.

Micah narrowed his eyes, "I didn't intend to kill anyone. I just wanted to be normal and die normal."

"Being a werewolf isn't so bad. I've been one my whole life. It's sort of fun to be able to change." Sterling tried to show him the bright side.

"I just wanted to be normal." Micah emphasized the last word.

"Being normal is vastly overrated." Sterling crossed his arms.

"I don't care. This town is weird enough without adding extra crap to it." Micah stomped out of the bathroom.

* * *

Micah slammed the front door shut when he got home.

"Micah," his father smiled from the easy chair, "How was school?"

Micah growled low in his throat and was shocked by the noise he'd just made.

"Not good I take it." his father returned to his paper.

Micah marched over to him and yanked it from his hands, "Dad, two students from my school are dead. This morning I woke up covered in blood. There has to be some sort of connection. Thanks to you...I'm a fricken murderer."

"It's not that big of a deal." his father smiled.

"Killing someone is not a big deal?" Micah asked horrified.

"It's a fact of life. Werewolves hunt. When people bolt the impulse is set off in our brains to attack. If those people ran from a hunting animal it was their own stupidity that killed them."

"I can't believe you!" Micah resisted the impulse to swat him.

"I have given you power. I tried to make you a creature of legend. Be grateful." he picked up the paper again.

"No...you tried to make me a killer." Micah said calmly.

There was a long silence between them.

"I can't stay here." Micah said abruptly, and the words surprised even him.

His father looked up, shocked.

"And where do you plan to go?" he asked, "Every full moon you'll change. Killing is inevitable."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take to get away from you." Micah narrowed his ice blue eyes.

"Go ahead, but do not think you'll come crawling back to me. Take what you've paid for yourself, but the rest is mine."

Micah glared at his father, "Fine, I'll take my clothes and my truck and I'll be gone."