by Sarah Noffke
Mika simply shook his head, looking at the massive beast at his feet. “Grant, you know I’ll allow you free, but first we need to talk and acting like an animal won’t get you anywhere,” he said and stepped back. “Now stand up.”
The werewolf gauged his arms, like the fear of them vibrating with electricity again was a real possibility. A hunger burned in his eyes, but still he pushed up to all fours and regarded Mika with a strange look of curiosity.
“Stand up!” Mika said, pointing up to the ceiling.
At once the beast pushed with its claws off the tile floor until it was towering a foot over Mika. He only smiled up at the werewolf, satisfaction on his face. And then the werewolf sniffed the air, a growl following the act. There was a rattling followed by the convulsing that brought the gigantic werewolf down on the ground, where it lost control of its movements. Mika regarded the vibrating thing by his feet with quiet disapproval and then again shook his head.
“I’m not dinner. I’m not someone you charge. I’m not anyone you abuse. I am your alpha and you will listen to me, do I make myself clear?” Mika said, holding out the buzzer, his finger ready on the button.
Grant pushed back on the floor, gaining a distance from Mika, and then stood again up to full height, nodding his head as he did.
“Now, I want you to change back to a man,” Mika said and lifted his chin and regarded the animal with a cold stare.
The werewolf dropped its snout, his eyes wandering over the floor in front of him, confusion evident in his gaze.
Mika let out a loud sigh. “Grant, you were wired to be able to change at will. You just have to summon that part of you. You are the wolf and the wolf is you. There is no taking over. Instead you two work together. Now, I want you to come forward, taking back your role,” he said.
Grant lifted his face, which looked like his with the black hair and high cheekbones, but also didn’t look like him at all. Just a shell of what he was underneath. He shook, but this time of his own free will and all over, like a dog does after a bath. And as he shook he began to change, to minimize in size. The black hair was erased and replaced by pale white skin and it was everywhere. So much so that Mika turned to the door when Grant was a man again, all exposed skin and fearful eyes.
When Mika turned back, Grant had pulled the sheet from his bed and wrapped it around his body, which appeared to be shaking slightly, maybe from the adrenaline of the change or the frigid temperature in the sterile room.
“Good, you’ve mastered changing. Now just remember that you’re in control and can always make the werewolf retreat. When in that form, you’re not fully in control, which is why I had to shock you,” Mika said.
“Yes, I understood that, sir. It was quite all right,” Grant said, his eyes expectant on Mika. He was looking for praise. It was so evident in his gaze, but what would that do except tarnish the likelihood that he would try his best on his first case?
“Orion Murray has been checked into a hospital in San Francisco, but ran out,” Mika said.
“One of the werewolves,” Grant said.
“Yes, and San Francisco is his hometown, so this makes logical sense. He apparently was treated for an injury to his hand. His therapist later filed a report that she thought he mutilated himself and needed psychiatric treatment,” Mika said, pinning his hands behind his back and drawing in a long inhale.
“You want me to go to San Francisco, is that right?” Grant said.
“Yes, and although we don’t know where Orion is, we know that he’s weak and vulnerable. I want you to use the tracking we had hardwired into you to sniff him out. Find a werewolf in your pack using your instinct. And stick close to the places that Orion liked to frequent. You’re bound to find him, if you listen to the wolf in your head,” Mika said, opening the door and leaving at once, not even waiting for Grant’s reply.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Zephyr Flournoy displays the gift of X-ray vision and ability to control the wind. This is the first time in recorded history that X-ray vision has been classified as a known talent.”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Were the lights extra bright in the Institute corridor today? Adelaide wondered as she trudged through the hallway. She’d been up most of the night with Lucien, who apparently had eaten the world’s largest ice cream sundae and decided to project it all over his room at three in the morning. Pops, for as amazing a support to Adelaide as he was as Lucien’s fulltime caregiver, had his shortcomings; namely, he didn’t wake easily in the middle of the night. But he was in his nineties. He needed as much sleep as Lucien. So the responsibility of cleaning up her son and his room and putting him back to bed fell on her. She hadn’t been a parent to him in many months, so to dash in at the hardest possible parenting moment was horrible irony. God thought this shit was hilarious and loved torturing the girl, or so she thought. She pictured that he went to great lengths to orchestrate scenarios that would kill her spirit. However, at four in the morning when she had finally rocked Lucien to sleep, she had found a certain peace in the situation. The boy was too tired to push his mum away, as he did so many times lately. And she knew he needed her too much for her to push him away, as she had for months.
Adelaide was grateful for the soft lights of the strategic department when she entered the space. What she wasn’t grateful for was the dumb giggling emitting from the main conference space. She’d called an early morning meeting and knew exactly who was producing the revolting sound.
Rox had her hands combing through the front of Zephyr’s hair, Adelaide could see through the glass partition. It looked like she was trying to retrieve a flea from his fur or something. He narrowed his eyes at the girl, not a look of lust, but rather one of uncertainty. Then he knocked Rox’s hands away, casting a glance over his shoulder as Adelaide entered the room. Rox didn’t turn to look at her, but rather leaned back from the table and crossed her long legs, showing her joke of a pleated skirt. It appeared to be made to fit a Barbie doll.
Adelaide knew this Zephyr business was a power play on Rox’s part. She wanted to prove that she could skirt the rules and get away with it; otherwise, the FBI agent wouldn’t be so bold.
From behind Adelaide she heard racing feet and then a blur of a figure shot around her and popped into the seat at the head of the conference room table.
Adelaide regarded Kaleb as he leaned back in his seat, putting his sneakers on the table. “How is it that someone with the gift of stopping time is always so fucking late?” she said.
“It’s a part of my charm. I like to keep you all guessing,” Kaleb said.
Adelaide pointed to a seat opposite of Zephyr. “Move, Runt. That seat is for the person in charge,” she said. “Where’s Rio?”
“Probably eating his third breakfast,” Kaleb said, reluctantly moving to another seat.
Just then Rio strolled around the corner, talking loudly with Adelaide’s boss, Trent. The two seemed to have established an easy conversation, but that didn’t surprise her because both were social personalities. Trent had gone through a series of traumas that had made his usually jovial nature retreat, but with each passing month he seemed to return to his former self more. She was hoping the same would happen for her, or actually that she’d become something new. Plunking her leather-bound book on the table, she took the seat that Kaleb had been occupying, extending a hand to the seat beside her. “I saved you a seat, Trent,” she said.
“Thank you. I’m interested to hear what you’ve learned from the news reports,” Trent said, taking the seat, not seeming to care it wasn’t at the head of the table.
“I’ve learned where Orion Murray, one of the werewolves, is going to be this afternoon,” Adelaide said, resting her hands on the book in front of her. “He shows up to his previous psychiatrist’s office in San Francisco. Lucky for you three,” she said to Zephyr, Rio, and Rox, “there’s a GAD-C in that city, so the trip will be easy.” She then turned her focus to Rio. “You’ve l
earned how to generate your body using the GAD-C, correct?”
“Yeah, that shit will make your head spin,” Rio said with a laugh.
“Just imagine if you had an actual brain what it would do to you,” Adelaide said and then cast her glance at Zephyr. “Roya was able to see the location and time. However, the event turned blurry when an altercation happened. She couldn’t make out the details in her clairvoyant vision. I don’t know if Orion battles with one of Mika’s people or one of you. Visions of the future are tricky in this way and when we intervene there are many different complications that occur due to the space-time continuum.”
“Man, I didn’t understand half of what you just said,” Rio said, his dimple surfacing with his broad smile.
“That’s because you’re a git,” Adelaide said. “My point is that things we do in the future can affect the visions we see in the past of said event. That’s probably why they appear blurry, because they are shifting based on us learning the events and our meddling.”
“Well put, Adelaide,” Trent said, looking impressed. “That’s an astute observation and not something many of the agents consider when intervening. Your fath—”
“As I was saying,” she said, cutting him off before he could mention her father, thereby giving all the wankers in the room unnecessary information about her, “because of the nature of this vision, I want you three on the case.” She threw her hand at Rox, Zephyr, and Rio, who sat on one side of the table. “Go to—”
“What about me? Remember I’m not as worthless as you previously thought. I can use my gift to stop time and kill the bad guy,” Kaleb said.
“You are still worthless, especially since you don’t have any manners and interrupt those superior to you,” Adelaide said to him before turning her attention back on the others. “Go to San Francisco and retrieve Orion. I want a report as soon as you have him in custody. Zephyr and Rio, you two escort him to the Institute. Rox you return to your escort job, since I know you don’t want to lose that part of your income.” Adelaide didn’t like having Rox on the cases actually, but it was necessary. The men could change without much notice, she’d learned from her experience with Connor. She couldn’t have them in society unchaperoned. And Rox was strangely the perfect dog walker due to her skin resistance.
“Aye aye, Freckles,” Rox said, lazily saluting at her.
“Now, Runt,” Adelaide said, turning her attention on Kaleb, who was pouting like a puppy that had been tapped on the nose with a newspaper, “a report came in from another reporter while I was grabbing the one about Orion from Roya.”
Trent automatically leaned forward, his dark head creasing with wrinkles. “What?”
Adelaide waved Trent off without looking at him. “There’s a bomb set to detonate in the Pearson Federation,” she said and then opened the flap of her book and withdrew a piece of paper. “Here’s the exact location and time. I think this is a case for your lame time-stopping skill. Dream Travel to the closest GAD-C, generate, and a car will be ready to transport you to the site, which is heavily guarded and also prowling with terrorists ready to early detonate if there’s any sign of trouble. Once there—”
“Adelaide,” Trent said, leaning forward even more, trying to capture her attention. “This really should be my—”
She turned to Trent, giving him a look of offense. “Would you not cut me off? I’m trying to save the bloody world.” Turning back to Kaleb, Adelaide said, “Once you find the location for the bomb and stop time, retrieve it and cut the red and white wire. My sources tell me that’s the right one to defuse it.”
“Your sources?” Trent said through clenched teeth.
“I checked the whole thing through Aiden. He’s certain that’s the right one in this case,” Adelaide said, not even looking at her boss. “Okay, Runt, you ready to join the strategy department and do some real work?”
“Heck yeah!” Kaleb said, grabbing the paper and flipping it open. “This is going to be so freaking cool.”
“Now, your time stops have only worked for roughly two to three minutes thus far. You’re going to need to be quick. Once the job is done, release time, however you do, and get the bloody hell out of there,” Adelaide said, and then she actually smiled a little.
“You got it,” he said, still scanning the instructions.
“Although your plan sounds okay, I’m failing to understand where you thought you had the authority to take a news report that should have come to me first and assign it. I am the head of the strategy department,” Trent said, fully turned toward Adelaide.
Adelaide shrugged. “I was harassing Roya for news reports. I was in the right place when the report came in. I can’t help it that you loaf off and therefore I have to do your bloody job for you,” she said.
Trent dropped his head, his dreads covering his cheeks as he did. But when he brought his chin up he was actually smiling. “My God, you remind me so much of your father right now. He used to do the same thing to me after I took this position. But the funny thing is that you were never the head of the department and you still act like you run the place,” Trent said.
Adelaide shrunk back in her seat. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d taken over the way that Ren would have done. She’d only tried to be proactive and knew that her werewolf Kaleb was perfect for the case that happened to come in while she was in the news reporting department.
“Wait, who is your father?” Zephyr said. He’d been watching the whole exchange with mild interest, but now looked extremely attentive.
“He was a nobody,” Adelaide said, turning and giving Trent a look that hopefully communicated so much. “Just a regular person, am I right, Trenton?”
“Right,” he said, nodding his head, seeming to understand that Adelaide didn’t want the people working for her knowing that her father was the main author of the Dream Traveler Codex, which also highlighted him as one of the most powerful Dream Travelers to ever live. She knew that the newbies in the room had heard Ren Lewis’s name just walking around the Institute. He was a legend and constantly referenced in conversation. It was annoying.
“And I want to congratulate you, Kaleb,” Trent said to him, extending a hand. “I think that Adelaide’s instincts were correct and with talents like yours, you belong in the strategic department. Is that amenable to you? I think these three can track down werewolves for us so you can give your focus to worldly affairs.”
“Are you kidding me, Dreads? This is by far the very best thing that’s ever happened to me! I’m an agent for the Lucidite Institute,” Kaleb said, with a bright smile. He then looked up to the ceiling, his eyes glassing over. “That hopefully makes my father very happy, wherever he is.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The werewolves exhibit aggressive behavior when changed, but through behavior conditioning this tendency should be controlled and honed for beneficial reasons.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
On the eve of his birthday, Connor stirred from a sleep that seemed to want to imprison him. His head felt like it was full of paint when he tried to turn it to the side, like his brain had been liquefied. The dark sought to hide the room but his wolf vision could see clearly that he was in the infirmary at the Lucidite Institute.
Fuck, he thought. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful that they saved him or angry that they intervened in his attempt at suicide. He sighed, his throat feeling cracked and dry like it was a paper bag. Now that he was still alive and back at the Lucidite Institute there would be little way to run from his problems, from himself. These people seemed bent on saving him, on making him better. They reminded him of the strange man he met at Ferocity Carnival, and then the voice of the man with the top hat rang in his head: You could be great, my boy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“CRISPR technology, which was derived from the Lucidite Institute, is thought to be the method used for splicing wolf DNA into the abducted men.”
- Lucidite Inst
itute, Werewolf Project File
Through the window Orion watched Veronica as she grabbed her coat and scarf off the rack. Her receptionist had already gone home. The psychiatrist always worked late, tirelessly poring over her cases, thinking of ways to help her patients. Orion had watched her so many times through this window, believing that she spent more time reading through his file. More time wondering how she could make him happy. It had to be difficult for her to remain professional when they shared such intimate feelings for each other.
To his relief the receptionist hadn’t locked the entrance. Veronica looked up with surprise when the front door to her practice opened.
“Orion,” she said as she ducked her head, wrapping the blue scarf around her neck. “What are you doing here? Are you all right?” Her eyes fell to his bandaged hand. She was concerned for him. She wanted to make him better.
“I need you,” he said, his voice raw from the many tears he shed from the pain. The pain in his hand and in his heart.
“I can help you. We just need to set up an appointment,” she said, her eyes swiveling to the clock on the wall.
“No, I don’t want an appointment. I want you,” he said, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. He was finally doing it.
The realization of what he was saying dawned on the young doctor. She drew in a breath, her eyes widening as she did. “Orion, it’s common for patients to develop feelings for their therapist, but you must realize my job is to help you achieve a healthy mental state,” she said.
“I’m not sick,” Orion said, putting his unbandaged hand to his forehead. “They did something to me. They made me into a werewolf. They made me what I am.”
