The Hybrid Series | Book 1 | Hybrid

  Copyright

  A TWISTED FATE PUBLISHING BOOK

  First Published in 2015 by Wild Wolf Publishing

  Revised edition published 2020 by Twisted Fate Publishing

  Copyright © 2015 Nick Stead

  Copyright © 2020 Nick Stead

  The right of Nick Stead to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and scenarios are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Second print

  Twisted Fate Publishing Ltd

  115A Armitage Road

  Milnsbridge

  Huddersfield

  HD3 4JR

  United Kingdom

  www.twistedfatepublishing.com

  Dedications

  I would like to dedicate this book to my amazing family for their support and belief in me over the years, especially my mum for encouraging my love of stories from a young age and my cousin, ‘Lady’ Sarah, for getting me started on Hybrid all those years ago.

  Also to my friends who I’m lucky enough to be able to say are too many to name, but you guys know who you are. Special mention goes to Charlie for really boosting my confidence with all the positive feedback and helping with the original book launch, Sarah for helping me survive through school, college and more recently LARP, and Lauren for all those horror movie nights which helped keep me inspired to work on my own stories.

  I would also like to thank my fellow writers and friends at Huddersfield Author’s Circle and Write Club for all their support and feedback on my work, particularly Owen for the intensive read through of this second edition in the build up to the release!

  Thanks also goes to Alex and Squeaky for pointing me in the direction of my first publisher, Wild Wolf Publishing, and to the team at Wild Wolf, without whom I’d never have got this far.

  And finally, thanks to the other two founding fathers at Twisted Fate Publishing, Chris whose idea it was in the first place and Gareth – thank you for all your hard work on the cover design and for putting up with my fussiness over the imagery!

  Nick

  Author’s Note

  In the words of the great Terry Pratchett, this book had two authors, and they were both the same person.

  Actually, you could argue it’s had three or four authors. The first was of course me at fifteen, when I first started drafting it. Then I got caught up in the fun of being a student and it sat on my computer for a few years, until I got serious about my writing career again after college.

  The manuscript then went through some rigorous editing before being sent out to agencies and publishers, but it was Wild Wolf Publishing who helped me to see it still needed work. So at twenty seven I put it through some more redrafting and then the first edition was published by Wild Wolf, July 2015.

  The first Hybrid will always have a special place in my heart but there’s a lot about the original release that makes present day me cringe. I’ve grown so much as a writer since then and there was a lot about it I knew I could do better.

  Moving publishers gave me the perfect excuse to revisit it, and so here we are with this revised and extended edition. There’s some scenes my younger selves didn’t have the skill or knowledge to do justice to (younger me had not yet discovered the importance of thorough research!) which have now been properly fleshed out, and the characters should feel a little more developed. It’s also been given a really good polish and there’s less of those horrible adverbs and things I used to be so fond of!

  I’m not sure my younger selves would approve of all the changes I’ve made, but I’m sure even fifteen year old me would admit this new version is a much better read than the original. I hope you’ll think so too!

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Last Day of Freedom

  CHAPTER TWO

  My Entrance into Lycanthropy

  CHAPTER THREE

  I Was a Teenage Werewolf

  CHAPTER FOUR

  New Friend in All the Madness

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Back to School

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nightmares Awaken

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Blood Moon Rises

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  All Hallows’ Eve

  CHAPTER NINE

  A Monster is Born

  CHAPTER TEN

  Born of Death

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dark Revelations

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Horrors Relived

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hybrid

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Guilty

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Unholy Night

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Descent into Madness

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Mating Season

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A New Crisis

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Baptised in Blood

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  School’s Out

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Darkness Eternal

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Prom Date with Death

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Victim of War

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Prepare to Battle

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Heed This Warning

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The Beast Breaks Loose

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Escape

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Betrayal

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Death

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Love Lost

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Beyond the Grave

  EPILOGUE

  Dear Readers

  HUNTED (Sample)

  About the Author

  Also By Twisted Fate Publishing

  THE CROWMAN (Sample)

  PROLOGUE

  The late autumn sun glares down upon the land, creating pools of light and shadow. A chill wind whispers through the trees, a hint of what is soon to come in the winter months. Shivering, you quicken your pace, eager for the comfort of home.

  Clouds drift across the sky and the land darkens. The woods suddenly seem a hostile place, as if something is lurking in the undergrowth, something that doesn’t belong, something deadly. You can’t shake the feeling you’re being watched. Eyes seem to be following you as you walk, eyes you’re convinced do not belong to any known creature on the planet. That notion gives rise to fear, slowly tightening its grip upon your heart and squeezing until it becomes painful, until you feel your heart will stop. But what is it you fear the most? Is it the death you’re sure awaits you, the pain, the unseen creature itself?

  Movement alarms you and you begin to run. All those horror movies you’ve seen, the stories of man-eating animals you’ve heard. Will it be your own lifeless body they find lying broken and bloody on the ground? The thought spurs you on to greater speeds.

  Something is definitely following; you can hear it behind you. But what is it? Through the panic, you’re dimly aware that it doesn’t make any noise as it runs across the blanket of dead leaves covering the woodland floor. How is that possible? Even the nimblest of animals should be crunching some of t
he vegetation underfoot, surely?

  A creature darts in front, causing you to cry out. The bird quickly seeks refuge in a nearby tree, followed by others of its kind. You stop running and double up with laughter. Birds. It was only birds.

  You start to walk again, still laughing and shaking your head at your own foolishness. Your imagination got the better of you, that’s all, the sounds you heard no more than the flap of wings. But something still isn’t quite right and you pause again. The world is still and silent. Shouldn’t those birds be singing now? With a shrug, you continue walking. Who knows what goes on in the minds of animals? Perhaps they’re keeping quiet after you startled them.

  More clouds are massing overhead, black and threatening. There’s no denying the hostility of your surroundings this time. Maybe there is something other than birds here after all.

  Leaves crunch from behind. Not your imagination anymore, you are definitely being followed. But is it human or animal? Both seem equally as frightening.

  Your head whips round in an attempt to spy the stalker, but only plant life meets your eyes. Another sound – it’s in front of you now. And gone when your head spins back round to meet it. A human couldn’t move that fast… The thought isn’t very comforting. Can you outsmart the creature in its own habitat?

  Running again, you see movement in the gloom: a darker shadow than those cast by the trees, weaving between trunks, matching your pace. Definitely an animal of some description but not one belonging to Britain. A quick glance is enough to tell you it’s bigger than any fox or badger, but then you lose sight of it, the creature seemingly melting into its surroundings. You keep running, knowing it could be moving in for the kill.

  Precious time trickles by but the creature is gone. Just as you think you’re safe and begin to slow, a shape steps out from between the trees. But it isn’t an animal this time. Shock and confusion brings you to a standstill and you face the stranger, chest heaving as your body craves more oxygen.

  A man stands before you. There is a feral look about him, his skin mostly bare and covered in filth. What rags remain around his legs are torn and equally stained. You really hope those reddish brown streaks and blotches are not blood.

  Tangles and braids knotted together by more filth hang long and unkempt from his scalp. His face is no less hairy, but it’s his wild hazel eyes which really hold your attention – the eyes of a madman.

  No, not a madman. You can see the predator in them, cold and merciless – the eyes of a killer. But then they seem to grow warmer, more human perhaps. And yet you still feel a great hunger burning in them, and your gaze slides to the side of him, your hands held up with palms facing outwards. You don’t want any trouble.

  You’re still aware of the way the man’s eyes are narrowed and the slight curl to his top lip, revealing the sharp yellow fangs hiding behind it. Stringy pieces of his last meal can be seen caught between those teeth. It’s a snarl any stray dog would be proud of, and you can’t keep the noticeable tremble from your hands as you begin to back away, slow and steady.

  I look at you and I smell your fear. It calls to me through the sweat trickling down your skin. It sings to me in the rapid beat of your heart and the prolonged shortness of your breath. And it waves for my attention as all colour drains from your face.

  The urge to hunt burns stronger than ever. So hungry. It would be nothing to crush the life from your body as I have with countless others before, to wrap my jaws around your limbs and tear the meat from your bones. And yet, something holds me back this time. Memories rise from the murky depths of my mind, corpses rising up from their watery grave. Memories of the human world. How long has it been now? Weeks? Months? Years? I don’t know, but I remember… And I want to be part of that world again.

  I advance. You’re on the verge of turning and running when you find yourself backed up against a tree, and before you know it, I’m close enough for you to smell the stench of all that dried blood. You’re praying it’s the blood of animals, yet deep down you know it is not.

  I try to speak but after all this time, all I manage is a grunt. Frowning, I embrace the memories, searching for the forgotten knowledge, trying to find the secret to forming the words to this forgotten language, the key to this forgotten world. It’s been so long, but I remember a time when I was a part of that world, and finally my tongue forms words I thought I’d buried along with my past.

  So many things I tried to forget, but I will never be free of those memories. I even tried turning to nature for a time, but I do not belong there. Your world fears me, my world turned their back on me, and I am alone. I long to be part of humanity’s world again, to see my family if they are still alive. Maybe it’s too late for that now. Have I outlived them all, everyone I knew in my former life?

  I’ve kept these memories locked inside my skull for what seems an eternity, but they yearn for release. I have to share them with someone – I cannot go on any longer like this.

  It starts to rain. Thunder rumbles across the sky and lightning streaks through the clouds. Come, I will take you to shelter where you can listen to my tale while the storm rages. Please? I don’t want to be alone any longer.

  Withdrawing, I see the way you look at me, the distrust evident in your eyes. But pity stirs your heart and, though you should know better, you follow me to a cave, carved long ago into a rocky outcrop somewhere near the heart of the woods. Together we start a fire and you sit opposite me, with only the dancing flames between us. Now, where to begin? I search for the right place to start.

  Everything is so confused, but thinking is slowly becoming easier. You act as a catalyst, reminding me of the life I once had, and slowly the memories begin to make more sense, form some kind of order. Yes, the tale, or at least the part of which I will tell this day, began in a small northern town in Yorkshire, here in Britain.

  I must warn you that my story is not for the faint of heart or those with a weak stomach. I will make your skin crawl and your blood curdle, and I swear to you it is all true. So long have I lived in secrecy, but a new era is dawning, I feel it, and the age of the undead is almost upon us. For it is their world to which I should belong. Most men are ignorant of our existence, yet exist we do.

  So then, now you are sitting comfortably, it began in my hometown at the beginning of September, in the year 2003. I was still at school then, and we must start with the last day of the summer holidays, just before I was about to enter my final year at high school, preparing to take my GCSE exams. Little did I know exams would prove to be the least of my problems.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Last Day of Freedom

  The lights were still on red but the green man had just disappeared and they would change in a matter of minutes. I’d never had much patience, and I certainly wasn’t going to wait for them to change again, so I sprinted across the road before the traffic started moving. A car had already been creeping forward, and just as I ran out the driver decided to put his foot down. I sprinted onwards, feeling my glasses slide down my nose and my bag of shopping swinging wildly in my hand. The driver beeped his horn but didn’t bother to slam on the brakes, and I barely made it across. I gave him the finger as he drove away in disgust.

  Pushing my glasses back into place, I walked away, calm despite the fact I could have been in the back of an ambulance by then, staring Death in the face. As I walked, I entertained thoughts of the alternate realities theory, thinking if it were true, I was probably long dead in at least a hundred of them already. I was somewhat reckless in my teens and often took stupid risks, and somewhere I was sure I’d paid the price. The thought didn’t trouble me, mortal as I once was, since we were all headed for the grave eventually. I knew my time would come and it didn’t matter to my younger self whether that was in hours or years.

  Most of the girls at school were obsessed with eating healthy and their figure. I used to think, why bother? I saw no point in being so careful to avoid Death all your life when he would catch every one of us even
tually. People talked of uncertain futures and being unsure of where they were going in life. As a human, I knew where I was going. I knew where we were all going. I just didn’t know how any of us were getting there or how long it would take. But regardless of how often I contemplated my mortality, I don’t think I truly believed my life would end anytime soon. I didn’t fear Death, and I didn’t expect him to catch up with me for many years to come. Not while I was still young and care-free, and so very much alive. My dark thoughts turned to those more typical of a teenage boy as my feet automatically carried me towards home, which was just as well, since I hadn’t really been paying attention to the route I was taking.

  Before I knew it, I was walking down the drive to our house, and only then did I notice both cars were missing. Dad was probably at the gym, but I had no idea where Mum could be. She wasn’t shopping, since she’d been the one to send me out for more supplies, and she wasn’t working, as she worked in the same school my sister and I went to. So where was she?

  Not that it really mattered. Having the house to myself for the afternoon was all that was important to me back then, since it meant I could watch my secret stash of eighteen-rated DVDs or play online games without being interrupted. Dad didn’t like me watching horror movies as it was; he thought they were morbid and had once said they were poisoning my mind. But I was fascinated with the horror genre and I wasn’t going to miss out just because he couldn’t understand it.