Chapter 1

In the Basement of a haunted old mansion, Spice is born…

His naked body writhed frantically against the cold stone wall, the iron shackles that circled his wrists wet with his own blood. His terrified eyes darted around the damp space, settling on a woman who lurked silently at the head of the dark cellar stairs. Her slim, delicate body carefully crept toward him, fear and concern etching her face as she guardedly watched him thrash about within the deep shadow that enshrouded him.

His eyes anchored on her, refusing to release her from his narrowed gaze. He silently urged her to move into the light, but she continued to stay safely hidden within the maze of murky light and deep shadow.

Who was she?

I must know her,he reasoned with himself, but he couldn’t seem to remember. He shook his head to clear his mind, the haziness making it difficult for him to think.

The hell he was cursed with was already upon him.

“Whoever you are,” he rasped as he spoke to her, “why am I here? Why are you holding me captive? Release me, please.”

She did nothing, said nothing, only stood watching him with stark fear shining in her eyes. Suddenly pain shot through him, a tormented yell ripped from his throat. Sweat streamed down his face, and blood oozed from the scratches and cuts where the rough rock tore at his flesh. His chest heaved as his eyes shifted toward the high window that framed the wretched moon. He watched with trembling breath as the devilish rays slowly crept along the rough wall toward him.

He turned his head away, refusing to look, but it did no good. He struggled to escape it, to fight against it, but knew even if he ran and hid in the darkest corner of the cellar, he still wouldn’t be safe. Within seconds he felt the waves of evil touch his body with fire, and he could do nothing but let their stinging rays surround him, swallow him like a hungry beast of prey.

The relentless agony!

He longed for death.

And then, like a scalpel in the hands of a demon surgeon, his face slowly mutated into beastly proportions. With each subtle change, the evil inside him grew to savage hunger, a hunger that raged inside his stomach. As it increased, his mouth stretched little by little over teeth that had become long and razor sharp. Saliva oozed from between his animal fangs, his ears coming to a deep point, his forehead steadily protruding while the hairline at the back of his neck lowered and disappeared into swelling muscles that knotted on his back. His hair grew down his body, thick and bristly. His lower form took on an animalistic look as his thighs curved, forcing him to crouch, his feet fast becoming clawed and distorted.

His suffering stretched into infinity, torturing him with pain so stark and raw that he felt as if he were going to die. When he knew he could stand no more, the mutation became complete.

Now black evil heaved inside him, his form no longer that of a man, but an untamed beast of the wild. Slowly he opened eyes he knew to be red-rimmed and looked out of a different face, a face that was deformed and ugly. His body had grown to mountainous proportions, and his hunger for the blood and flesh of a human body insatiable. His actions were frenzied, his senses hyper. His persona had painfully entered a realm of the paranormal where few men were allowed to travel.

The very air he breathed was flavored with blood, calling to him, making him strain and writhe at the bonds in desperation. No matter how violently he struggled, the steel cords were embedded so deeply into the stone even his massive strength couldn’t budge them. A growl, tormented and angry, pushed its way up into his throat while saliva continued to gather in his mouth, then drip from between his sharp teeth. His hunger had grown so intense, he continued to fight against the shackles, his thirst for blood growing with each second that passed.

He had to get loose.

The minutes that crawled by were agonizingly slow, as slow as the bugs that inched across the stone floor. He watched them for a moment, his eyes shifting to the mice that darted here and there, unafraid while nipping at his hideously mutated feet. He couldn’t move, couldn’t lean down and grab their squirming bodies, to savor their rodent blood as it filled his mouth. The thought of their torn flesh, their red blood streaming from his wolf-like mouth, excited him. No, it might not be human blood, but he was desperate. Desperate to drink blood, any blood!

Hunger tormented him.