by Sarah Noffke
“No, I’m busy,” the boy repeated.
“Yeah, me too,” Adelaide said, blinking, trying to clear her dry eyes. “I’ve got to head over to the strategic department. I’ll see you later, Pops.”
“But you just got back,” he said, hurt evident on his face.
“Yes, and that means I need to ensure the dogs haven’t peed all over the place. You know how untrained that bunch is,” she said, turning for the door. Adelaide couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in Pops’s eyes. He kept saying if she just tried she could bond with her son, but he didn’t know how many times she’d tried. Or maybe he did, and also knew how many times she’d quit. Loving someone is difficult. It’s harder than pushing them away, which is all Adelaide knew. She wasn’t a bad person, just an unlovable one.
Adelaide paused at the door, turning, but her gaze was on her black heels. Then she shook her head, unwilling to subject herself to that abuse any longer. She left the flat barefoot and with a heavy heart.
“There you are,” Trent said, rounding out of one of the smaller conference rooms in the strategic department. “Undercover seems to suit you.” Trent clapped his hands together as he and Adelaide walked farther into the department. “Get it? Suit you. You’re wearing a suit.” His laugh was loud and uninhibited.
“Wow, you’re so bloody hilarious. Quit your job and get on the American telly. Those buffoons love laughing at other monkeys,” Adelaide said dryly.
“You know in America we just call it regular television,” Trent said, his voice light.
“You know in Great Britain we just call you all ungrateful wankers who are undeserving of a soul,” Adelaide said, hiking up an eyebrow at him.
“No you don’t,” he said.
“No, that’s just me. It’s true though,” Adelaide said. “Give me a full update. How far have you allowed this department to slide into the pits of bloody hell in my absence?”
Trent tucked a dread behind his ear. “In your absence, there’s been no news reports on any werewolves,” he said.
“That’s because if you don’t pressure Roya to look for one of those bloody dogs then she just finds events related to natural disasters and mass murders. All unimportant shit,” Adelaide said.
Trent sighed, probably realizing that telling Adelaide not to influence the news reporters was never going to work. “And there has been another attack in Los Angeles. A librarian’s body was found, but we only know it’s hers based on forensics. She was unrecognizable,” he said, his voice dropping with seriousness.
“Damn, this rabid wolf has a bloody vendetta, doesn’t he?” Adelaide said, her eyes pulling to the side at a figure on the other side of the glass partition.
“We need to make catching him a top priority. I know you just got back but—”
“I’ll give it my entire attention through the weekend,” Adelaide said, cutting him off.
“Well, you should take some time to spend with your son,” Trent said.
“I think that as long as women are being maimed in the streets of Los Angeles my son can do without me. Kids don’t even remember the first five years anyway,” she said.
Trent nodded, but gave her an unconvinced look. “If anyone can figure out how to catch the rabid wolf, it will be you,” he said, turning and walking for the exit, leaving Adelaide staring at the figure on the other side of the glass wall.
With her head held high she cruised into the main conference room, her eyes on the file cabinet where she knew she’d find the latest reports on the werewolf case. She had the file pressed between her fingers and her focus on the exit when Connor cleared his throat.
“First you try and have me killed and now you’re ignoring me…” he said.
Adelaide paused. Blinked. Her eyes fell to the right of Connor. “Just imagine what I have in store for you next. It’s obviously going to include my full disdain and make you feel utterly worthless.”
“So the reversal conversion didn’t work the way you wanted it to,” Connor said dryly.
“Meaning that you’re still alive,” Adelaide said, knotting her hand into her hair and finally looking at Connor. He sat reclined in one of the leather seats at the conference table, his arms crossed.
“Yes, and also that I still have the werewolf in me. I changed last night,” he said.
Adelaide bit down on her bottom lip and nodded at the floor, her disappointment leaking to the surface. “Well, we will just have to keep testing on you until it works or it zaps the brain cells you didn’t kill with drugs,” she said.
Connor rolled his green eyes up to the ceiling. “Right, a drug joke. I guess I deserve to keep hearing those for at least a few more years,” he said.
A few more years? How long was Connor planning on hanging around the Institute? Actually, Adelaide hadn’t yet considered the long-term plan for the werewolves if the reversal conversion wasn’t successful. They’d have to stay at the Institute to protect society. She didn’t like the idea of boarding the mutts for eternity though. Maybe they could put them on an island.
Adelaide’s lips started to feel raw from the work her teeth were doing to them.
“I get that I’m not the strongest in the pack, but did you have to make it so blatantly obvious that I’m the most expendable?” Connor said, and now she spied the quiet anger in his eyes.
Adelaide released her lip when her mouth popped open and her eyes swiveled to Connor. She was having a hard time keeping her gaze on him, sitting relaxed and yet stress engraved on his face. “Expendable? You think I had you undergo reversal conversion testing because I thought you were expendable?” She nodded her head. “Yeah, I could see how hurtful the action could have appeared. I have no regrets.”
“Your capacity for consideration continues to blow me away,” Connor said, his voice monotone.
“There’s always risks in this business. I knew that death or dismemberment was a potential, but we have to start somewhere. I thought you wanted to do something for the pack,” Adelaide said. Why did he have to look at her like that? Like he was both angry and soft. Like he was hurt and also relieved. Connor was the picture of dichotomy for Adelaide. Impassive and yet he had written all his emotions on his body with tattoos. Apathetic and yet in his eyes she saw a yearning, an unquenched desire.
“Risks,” he said, hissing on the word. “Is that why you’re putting yourself in danger infiltrating Parantaa Research?”
“Well, it is the Lucidites’ job to take down bad men. The only way I can do that is if I can find out more about Mika Lenna and Olento Research,” Adelaide said. “And why do you care if I’m putting myself in danger? If something happens to me, Trent will just assign you a new dog trainer.”
“Maybe I don’t want a new dog trainer,” he said simply, a slight smile on his mouth now.
She shook her head at him, shaking away the feeling his admission gave her. Adelaide’s eyes fell to the green salamander on his arm. “Does that represent fire for you?” she said, pointing at the lizard that took up most of his forearm. It wasn’t the perfect way to change the subject, but it was all she could come up with on the spot.
His eyes dropped to look at the tattoo and his smile widened. “Someone knows their folklore. I’m impressed,” he said.
“I know every bloody thing. Don’t you forget that,” she said, her chest suddenly humming for some odd reason.
He held up his hands like in surrender. “Right, the girl with the book of secrets. Of course you’d know symbolism and everything else.”
“Why fire? Does it have something to do with the fact that you’ll burn in hell one day? Or is it related to the drugs? Or were you just high when you got it?” she said.
“I’m sure if there was a hell then I’d burn in it. But actually this is just a reminder. All of my tattoos are reminders,” he said. “The salamander actually represents purgatory and how it’s where I perpetually find myself.”
“So you’re the punishing type. Self-loathing has always been one o
f my favorite qualities in a person. It just always leaves me warm and cozy after an interaction,” Adelaide said, hugging herself with mock doughy eyes.
“Oh, well if self-loathing is your thing then I’m your man,” Connor said, making Adelaide’s fake smile instantly drop.
“Anyway, I have to get to work on the werewolf stuff,” she said, worrying that soon she’d trip on her words or her feet. She walked barefoot for the exit.
“Why don’t I help you review the files? I could use a task. And as you said, you know I want to be more involved,” he said.
“How do I know that?” she said.
He smiled, uncrossing his feet and pulling them off the table. “You know that because you’re intuitive. And you just said that’s why you signed me up for the reversal conversion.”
Why was he messing with her? Was he even meaning to or was this their new normal, a cat and dog game? “Yeah, fine. Two sets of eyes are always good,” she said, dropping the file on the table. “And also, I wasn’t trying to have you killed by having the reversal conversion done on you.”
“You weren’t? That’s a relief,” Connor said.
“Yeah, I was actually trying to help you. I was trying to fix you,” Adelaide said, her voice suddenly quieter.
“I’m going to take the liberty of thinking that’s because you want to feel safer when you’re around me,” Connor said, his teeth showing when he smiled. She assumed he didn’t do that often.
“Dogs don’t have liberties. And honestly, I just don’t want to end up your evening meal,” Adelaide said.
Chapter Ten
“A gang is the same as a wolf pack; gang members do not use their energies in friendship with one another, for they do not know what friendship is. If they are united, it is by the common bond of a desire to attack their world.”
- Haniel Long
David had always been a good sitter. Most wouldn’t see that as a skill, but he commended himself for it. His sister, Anne, always had to be moving. She twiddled her hair or her fingers when she sat. However, David knew how to do nothing and he was actually good at it. The sofa, with its many lumps, was good evidence of this. Still, David was tired of sitting in the garage that had faint smells of gasoline. That couldn’t be good.
What he longed for was the movie theater. The night he’d been abducted he’d gone to a late show. David never had anyone to go to the movies with, but he didn’t mind going alone. That was because David didn’t mind being alone. Most people know they’ll grow up and get married. David knew he’d grow up and be alone. He just preferred it that way. People were wonderful, but he couldn’t be himself around them, although he didn’t really know who he was. Just a guy who was complex in how simplistic he could make his life, his thoughts.
Stretching out his long legs, he lay back on the sofa. A video game would be fantastic. Anything would be better than the local channels on the television and the stack of comics he’d read a hundred times.
His eyes slipped shut and his heart immediately went into overdrive. It was always his reaction to the potential of falling asleep. David’s eyes sprung open as his throat sought to close up. He pushed to a sitting position, trying to take in a steady inhale. Lately the idea of sleep was a nightmare. It wasn’t that he had bad dreams anymore that bothered him, but rather real ones. The other night he fell asleep and dreamed he was in his sister’s house. When they were kids he used to put everything up high so she couldn’t reach it. In the dream he did that, thinking it was a fond memory worth reliving. The next day she stormed into the garage and convicted him of leaving the space, which she’d forbidden. He shook his head, telling her that he had been asleep in the garage all day. She then asked him who was responsible for putting an assortment of objects up high in her house. David didn’t have an answer to that. There were so many things lately that he didn’t have an answer for.
Chapter Eleven
“It is madness for sheep to talk peace with a wolf.”
- Thomas Fuller
“I’ll take a rum and a diet,” Malcolm Edwards said to the cocktail waitress, his eyes lingering on her cleavage perfectly nestled under the black and white ruffles of her shirt.
The waitress pursed her lips and nodded, taking the empty tumbler from in front of him. She was probably thinking that he’d already had too many, but the waitress didn’t look like the critical thinking type so what did he care. The woman did look like she worked out, though, he noticed when she turned to walk off. Heart-shaped asses were even better than a nice set of boobs.
The dealer spun the roulette wheel while bets continued to be placed. Malcolm was done betting. Now the fun began.
“No more bets,” the dealer announced.
That was Malcolm’s cue. He focused his attention on the little white ball rolling around the roulette wheel. With his intention it popped down, jumping over the numbers. He let the ball organically roll until the wheel slowed down enough so he could see the figures clearly. The ball popped into the one slot, then two, and then three, where it looked like it was going to settle. Malcolm narrowed his eyes at the ball and it jumped out of its resting place on the wheel, skimming over a few numbers before landing on thirteen.
“The guy in the blue shirt is our big winner,” the dealer said, raking all the chips forward, leaving Malcolm’s chips sitting on the number thirteen. He’d only put ten dollars on that bet but at thirty-five to one payout, it was still a great win.
Since utilizing his telekinesis to scam the roulette tables, he’d only betted conservatively. The last thing he needed was for the old goons to figure out he was back in the casinos. That’s why he wore the black fedora low over his head and kept his green eyes down. Thankfully, in Las Vegas, he blended in with the diverse crowds. Just another handsome black man, there to spend his hard-earned cash. He also stayed out of his old haunts, knowing the loan sharks still wanted to be paid back. They’d probably thought that he’d gone on the run after he’d been pressured to pay up his debt. He’d been “encouraged” by fists and a two-by-four. In actuality, Malcolm had stumbled out of the back of that casino and then everything went black. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or what when he woke up in that strange lab. But then the doctors did things to him, made him into a werewolf.
The only good thing that had come of the strange experiment was that Malcolm could now move things with his mind. He’d first done it sitting in the back of a semi that he’d stowed away on. This was after he and those other men escaped from the sinister lab. Malcolm hadn’t hesitated in finding transportation back home, knowing he needed to return to Las Vegas. It was something in his blood that brought him home. But that didn’t make sense because there wasn’t anything to come home to. Malcolm didn’t have a family or many friends. Gamblers weren’t really the kind for social networks. He knew loan sharks and the names of the dealers and the bartenders who gave generous pours. However, those acquaintances were all on the nice part of the strip where he used to gamble. Now he settled for the run-down casinos. But the money was the same and the gambling, thanks to his telekinesis, was easy. Malcolm Edwards was able to scam the one game that no one thought could be cheated. He was the king of the roulette table.
The waitress slid a cocktail napkin on the table along with Malcolm’s drink. He lifted it to his lips as the dealer raked the chips in his direction. Gambling used to be fun, an experience he could never get enough of. Now it was easy, one where he usually won. He turned to the blackjack table. What’s the point in an easy win on roulette without spending his winnings on a game that he couldn’t cheat?
Chapter Twelve
“The wolf, which hunts in a pack, has a greater chance of survival than the lion, which hunts alone.”
- Christian Lous Lange
“Hunter Smith,” Mika said, shaking his head. “He’s who they are calling the rabid wolf. The serial killer.”
“He did have a prison record. I’m not surprised that he’s turned rabid,” Drake said, rocking forward
on his heels and then back again.
“If we didn’t convert a diverse group of personalities then we wouldn’t understand how the wolf genes affected the men. Each had a purpose,” Mika said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Drake, even from across the room, smelled worse today.
“I think that Hunter’s proven he’d make the perfect assassin. He’s fulfilling that mission for you now,” Drake said with a slight laugh in his voice.
“I didn’t assign him to murder women all over Los Angeles,” Mika said, his voice bordering on yelling. The last thing he needed was for Hunter to get picked up. It would all lead back to Olento Research. The ex-convict would definitely talk to keep the fire off of him.
“Does Haiku have surveillance in Los Angeles? I’m certain the next attack will happen in a few days when the men shift into werewolves,” Drake said.
“I don’t believe your job includes security, Alexander,” Mika said.
At the mention of his first name the German scientist tensed, the crease between his eyes deepening. Alexander had been Drake’s father, a man he could not stand, which was why he went by his last name.
“You’re hardly adequate at the job you are assigned to, so if I were you then I’d direct my full focus to that and forget about things that are none of your business,” Mika said.
Due to his heightened senses Mika could hear Drake grind his teeth together. “Yes, sir,” Drake said, his eyes tapered behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Most might have found employees who were whole, but Mika preferred the important ones to be broken. That’s the way one controlled, they stabbed at the wounds. And he knew Drake could never live up to his father’s expectations, which was how Mika was able to push the scientist when his subordination flared.
“I need you to meet with an employee at Parantaa Research,” Mika said, rising from his leather office seat and striding for the exit, knowing Drake would follow.
