“An antidote?” the doctor replied in confusion. “For what?”
“For the pheromones!” When he reached the doctor, he clasped the neck of the doctor’s dressing gown in his fist. “Say you don’t know what I’m talking about and I’ll smash your face.”
“Shall I call the police, sir?” Maxwell asked.
“No, Maxwell, they are law enforcement. If you’ll release me, Agent Connors, we can discuss this in my library.” He stared at Winston as he stepped out of the shadows. “I suppose you might as well come in too.”
Dr. Taylor glared at Jason and then led them into the library. Once the door was closed behind them, he turned to Jason. “Before we discuss the antidote, I would like to know why you have brought the CIA into this. I did not approve their involvement.”
Jason approached him. “I don’t give a damn what you do and don’t approve. Now I’ll ask you again. Do you have an antidote?”
Dr. Taylor sighed. “Of course, I do. You can’t think around her without it. I would have continued to be her mindless acolyte if I hadn’t discovered how to block the pheromones.”
Jason shoved him against the wall. “You bastard. You sent me in knowing what would happen. Is this all part of your plan? Did you want me to be some mindless dick with legs?”
“Of course not! But if you had returned her to me when I asked, you would have been safe. She can’t manipulate humans in her animal state.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What animal state? I’m talking about Catina Nelson.”
The doctor was stunned. “The woman? How can that be? She’s human.”
“She’s also pregnant with his child and according to my field agent all of the women pregnant with Tiburon’s offspring seem to exude high levels of pheromones.”
Dr. Taylor collapsed in a chair and rubbed his shoulder. “Offspring. My God! He has successfully mated with humans?”
Jason poured the doctor a glass of water and handed it to him. He was afraid the one hundred and thirty-eight-year old doctor might be having a heart attack. “Ginkabo has uncovered twelve pregnancies, none of which resulted in a live offspring.”
Dr. Taylor’s face visibly relaxed. “Thank God! For a moment, I feared all my work these years had been in vain.” He held his hand out. “Help me up.”
“You should rest,” Jason replied.
“I can rest later. I need to show you my laboratory while I still can. I wish your Agent Ginkabo was with you. Then I could feel confident nothing I said would be forgotten. An amazing woman. She could do anything in the world, and all she wants to do is research work for the FBI. She’d be so much better suited for the sciences. What I could have done if I had a mind like hers.” The doctor typed a code into his computer and a section of the library wall slid open, allowing entry into a hidden room.
Once they had all entered, the door slid closed. The doctor went to a cabinet and retrieved a small vial. “This is the antidote. Place one drop in the back of your throat every thirty minutes you are in contact with the woman. It tastes quite hideous, but that’s how you know it’s working. When it stops making you want to vomit, you’ll know it is time for another dose. You’ll have to reapply if you drink any fluids. Also, if you take more than two drops in an hour you can expect to suffer severe stomach cramps and diarrhea.”
“Sounds like a great antidote,” Winston said with clear sarcasm.
“It took me years to develop it. I wouldn’t have been able to do so if Morta didn’t prefer her cat state to human. While she remained a cat, her pheromones didn’t affect me.”
“Wait a minute,” Winston interrupted. “Are you saying Mrs. Nelson becomes a cat?”
“No. Mrs. Nelson is human. I’m saying Tiburon and his sister, Morta, are able to take the form of humans, but their natural shape is of a creature that resembles a very large black panther.”
Winston shook his head. “Has the entire world gone crazy?”
Dr. Taylor made his way to the lab chair and sat down. It seemed to Jason that his age was catching up to him. He looked much older now.
“Do you know how I knew you were CIA?”
“I wondered why you thought that,” Winston admitted.
“You were a finalist for this job. You have a lot of good qualities, but Agent Connors had one quality you lacked.”
Winston’s eyes twinkled. “What might that be?”
“An open mind. Agent Connors has the ability to accept facts that fly in the face of what we believe is real. You do not.”
“I’m wounded by your harsh evaluation of me but fear not. I’ll get over it.” Looking at Jason, he asked, “Are we done here?”
Jason remained focused on the doctor. “Exactly what do you expect me to do?”
Dr. Taylor shrugged. “Whatever you deem necessary to protect the human race.”
“And that would be?”
“Whatever is necessary,” the doctor reiterated. “To date I have prevented Morta from successfully breeding offspring. But now, Tiburon has regained his sister. If they breed, it will only be a matter of time before their offspring becomes the dominant species on earth.”
“Then why didn’t you kill his sister when you had her?” Winston asked.
“Because first, I was enthralled and later I was a fool. I was enraptured with the ability of their blood to prolong life. For years, I have been trying to analyze it and create a synthetic version.”
“All the while taking blood from Morta to remain alive,” Jason said.
The doctor looked angry. “Of course. I had to. Their blood, once you’ve become accustomed to it, is highly addictive. Your body craves it. Your mind can think of nothing else. She first shared her blood while I was enthralled. Later, when she had lost power over me, she attempted to deny me, so I kept her in a weakened state and took daily transfusions, some for my study and some for myself. I had no choice. I was the only one who knew what they were. If I died of old age, there would be no one left to protect mankind.”
“And exactly how have you protected mankind?” Winston asked. “According to you, the danger remains. All your years of study has resulted in nothing but your extended life.”
“That’s not true. I have learned a lot about them. For one thing, they are very difficult to kill.”
“Why’s that?”
“They heal remarkably fast. On several occasions, I attempted to perform surgery on Morta in her panther state. When I would attempt to slice into the skin, it would heal together minutes after my slice. The only way I could keep the skin open was to place a metal barrier between the flesh as I sliced. Also, X-rays indicated significant anatomical differences between a panther and Morta. I suspect the same holds true when they are in their human state.”
“So what are you saying? We need a silver bullet to kill them?” Winston asked.
“No. I don’t think you can kill them with a bullet or knife. I also haven’t found a poison that will work.”
“Then how do you kill them?”
“I don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “I’ve studied the problem for over fifty years, and I simply don’t know.”
Winston looked at Jason. “This is all bullshit. You have your magic potion. Can we go now?”
Jason studied the doctor for a moment and nodded. “Thanks for the antidote,” he said and left with Winston.
***
“Alien creatures that can’t be killed,” muttered Winston once they were in the car driving home.
“He’s lying about that, but I don’t know why. Ginkabo said the doctor killed the baby panther.”
Winston shook his head. “Not you too! This is all way too weird for me! I’ll stick with drug cartels and Eastern block assassins if you don’t mind.”
Chapter 21
Kyle noticed the light under Carmella’s door and lightly knocked. Upon no answer, he opened the door and looked in, expecting to find her asleep. He was wrong. She was wide-awake, crossed-legged in the bed, with her computer i
n her lap. Papers scattered around her like fallen leaves from a tree.
Kyle spoke her name, but she didn’t look up. Was she pissed? Now what had he done? He was about to leave her in her sulky solitude when he noticed the small earphones pressed in her ears. He walked over and pulled them out. She started at his touch and looked up at him with those round doe eyes.
“Don’t you sleep?” he asked.
“Not much.” She stopped the disc player.
He moved some papers from his way and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked concerned about the papers he now held in his hands. “I’ll just hold them in my lap, and when I get up to leave, I’ll put them right back where they were.”
She smiled. “Sorry, but there is an organization to the piles.”
“I never doubted that for a minute.” He leaned over to see what was on the computer that occupied her attention. “What’s that?” he asked as he saw the diagram of a male body. “Anatomy 101?”
She turned the screen, so he could see. “Anatomy Twilight Zone is more like it. Based on Dr. Branston’s autopsy of the cub, and the legends of various tribes who have encountered the Warrior, I’m trying to recreate the Warriors most probable anatomy.”
Kyle stared at the figure. “That’s a probable anatomy? You have the stomach where the heart should be. And where is the brain?”
Carmella pointed to the hands and feet.
“His brains are in his feet?”
“Dr. Branston’s autopsy of the cub discussed an unusual grey fatty matter in the palms of the cat paws.”
“And what was in the brain cavity?”
“Not much in brain matter. Most of the space held advanced mechanisms for hearing, seeing and biting. The cub had an inventory of teeth that would make the profession of dentistry obsolete. And while the doctor couldn’t identify the purpose of additional components, he speculated, and I agree, that they provided the creature with enhanced vision and smell.”
“But why would nature put the brain in the hands and feet. Wouldn’t that make the creature vulnerable to brain damage?”
“The doctor said the fatty mass in the hands was covered by a thick cartilage.”
“But four brains?”
“At least five, because there was a component of the same fatty mass in the head, which by the way, the skull was made of cartilage, not bone.”
“But how do you work with five brains?”
“I suspect the same way a computer does in a network. Destroying one brain will not kill the creature. You have to destroy at least four of them simultaneously.” She looked at Kyle. “That’s how the doctor killed the cub. He snared all the paws at once with the clamps. He was so terrified of the thing, I suspect he pinched the clamps tightly to prevent it from getting away…so tight, that he severed all four brain chords.”
“But the cub still had the brain in the head…”
“That was insufficient to keep the cub alive.”
Kyle pointed to the stomach near the neck. “The doctor found the cub’s stomach up there?”
“At least what he thought was the cub’s stomach…” Carmella replied. “And the heart is protected with a heavy rubbery cartilage between the hips.”
“Where’s the liver?”
“Doesn’t seem to have one. Nor a kidney. It’s possible that the stomach performs those functions. Hard to say.”
Kyle rubbed his eyes. This was Anatomy from the Twilight Zone. “Assuming the doctor was correct in his autopsy, what makes you think you can transfer the deformities of the cub onto the Warrior?”
Carmella rolled her neck to relieve the tenseness. Kyle massaged the tightness away. “Thanks.” She closed her eyes to the pleasure of his hands.
He leaned closer and spoke in her ear. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“What? Right. What makes me think the Warrior has a similar anatomy? The Warrior didn’t get the reputation for immortality because he doesn’t age. He got it because he doesn’t die.” Carmella pointed to a pile on the left-hand corner of her bed. “Stories which tell of brave tribesmen who have thrown spears into his chest with no effect.” She pointed to another pile. “Ditto with head injuries. In fact, there’s one story in there that claims the Warrior’s head was completely severed, but he placed it back upon his shoulders, and within minutes, resumed fighting.”
“Right,” Kyle smirked.
“I know the stories sound absurd if you look at them through our anatomy. But if they happened to a man with this anatomy,” Carmella said tapping the screen, “then it’s all too possible.”
“Heads growing back on?” Kyle shook his head.
“It’s not a life critical appendage in this anatomy. Even our body regenerates itself. We can reconnect a severed finger with surgery. This would imply that the regenerative capabilities of the Warrior are more advanced than ours, but similar in nature.”
“And you believe this?”
Carmella saved the file and shut off the computer. She knew she’d be getting no more work done tonight. “I don’t have enough facts to make a conclusion yet. Which is why I must meet the Warrior first hand.”
Kyle hoped he had heard wrong. “Excuse me?”
“I’m going to go in the jungle…”
“No,” Kyle said firmly.
“…and locate the tribe.”
“No,” he repeated.
She sighed and looked at him. “You don’t have to go.”
“I’m not going.”
Carmella looked down at her hands and nodded.
“And neither are you,” he added.
She looked up in defiance. “You can’t stop me. I don’t report to you.”
Kyle grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “I don’t give a damn who you report to. I’m telling you that you aren’t going in the jungle. And I will stop you…even if I have to hog tie you and carry you home in my luggage.”
“You’ve no right.”
“I’ve got every right,” he replied. “I’ve got every right in the world.” He was about to explain his reason, to explain that he had fallen in love with her and would move heaven and hell to keep her safe. But the words could not be shared with the angry defiant face before him. She hadn’t asked for his love. She didn’t want it. Before he weakened his position with professions of love, his lips came down, hard upon hers, forcing her to yield to his physical demands.
He was oblivious to the scattering of the papers, even the computer he pushed from her lap. Her hands resisted, but the blows were like flaps of butterfly wings against him. And soon, they stopped as her passion took hold.
***
He woke, momentarily confused by his surroundings, smiling when he realized last night had not been a dream after all. He reached over to pull Carmella closer to him, but she was gone. Perhaps she was in the bathroom. As he surveyed the room, he knew she wasn’t. Her notes and computer were gone. He stared incomprehensibly at the spot of blood on the sheets. There was no way a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties could be a virgin, yet even as he concluded this, he felt a sickening lump grow in his stomach. He had thought her tight and small, but then she had opened to him.
“Idiot!” he cursed himself. He hadn’t realized. In all his experience with women, he had never once made love to a virgin. He hadn’t recognized the signs. How could she be a virgin? How could anyone so lovely, so utterly desirable be left untouched into her mid-twenties?
He returned to his room and dressed. If she were still here, he would no doubt run like hell away from her. However, she wasn’t here, and he knew where she had gone. His only question now was how long it would take him to gather a group of trackers and go after her.
Chapter 22
Catina woke to the musky cat odor she associated with Tiburon. She smiled and rolled over to face him. Her smile dissolved at the dark and sinister woman seated on the bed beside her. Evil did not even begin to express what Cat saw in those eyes. She knew this creature intended to kill
her. Adrenaline coursed through her body giving her the spurt of energy to catapult herself from the bed and into the bathroom, locking the door before the evil thing could reach her.
What the hell was that? she wondered, knowing the answer even as she formed the question. Tiburon’s sister. Evil incarnate. No wonder the natives named her Black Death. Catina pressed against the locked door, fearing the creature might have a key. Her heart beat a thousand times a second. God, this must be what a mouse feels like when sported by a cat. She sensed the creature directly outside the door. Every fiber in her body screamed “run.” She heard the low guttural growl of laughter and light scratching on the other side of the door. Terror welled inside her. Somebody help me! she silently cried. To her surprise, it was not Tiburon’s image which came to mind as she summoned help. It was the FBI agent, Jason Connors.
Why? She wondered. It was Tiburon she loved, Tiburon who had saved her from death. Her heart suddenly chilled. If Tiburon was the panther, then he had caused her near-death experience. He had only saved her when he realized she would be useful to him. He had needed her so he could retrieve his sister, the evil creature on the other side of the door. Now that he had freed the creature from hell, perhaps he saw her as disposable. Perhaps the she-devil was here to kill on his command and blessing.
She jammed the back of the dressing table chair under the doorknob and turned on the shower to hide the noise of her movements. She opened the window, hoping to see signs of any of the FBI agents that Tiburon claimed watched the place. She could see nothing. Jason help me, she silently pleaded. “Help me,” she whispered as she slid to the floor in helpless desperation.
The scratching on the door suddenly stopped. A few moments later the door handle turned. “Cat?” Tiburon called out from the other side. When she didn’t answer, he turned the knob several times in growing frustration. She had no doubt that in a few more seconds he would break it down.
“What?” She kept her voice calm and subdued.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a shower.”
“Why is the door locked?”
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”
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