by Sarah Noffke
Neanderthal balled up his fist and pulled it around in Rox’s direction just as Rio blocked it with his forearm. “Haven’t you heard it’s rude to hit a lady?” Rio said, stopping the caveman’s progress and then launching his own arm back the opposite way, knocking them both sideways.
Again the caveman pumped his fist in the air, but Rio blocked it with his palm. Still the force was so great it pushed Rio back farther into the parking lot. Rox flew forward and jumped on the caveman’s back, her arms around his neck. He flailed his arms behind him, trying to swat at the girl wrapped around him. Several times his hand bashed into Rox, but to no effect.
“Now I can say I’ve ridden a caveman,” Rox said, between dodging the harder assaults. They didn’t hurt, but she was afraid they might mess up her makeup. She’d just had this new set of eyelashes put on that morning.
Rio dived at the caveman’s, waist knocking him on his back with his super strength. The Neanderthal flew back on the concrete, Rox under him. Unharmed by having such a great weight on her, she tightened her arm around his neck, pressing down hard on his throat. The caveman’s arms were now restrained by Rio, who was sitting on top of his waist and pressing both wrists down with his meaty hands. When the caveman stopped moving, Rox let out a giant breath of relief.
“He’s out?” she said, over the caveman’s shoulder, looking up at Rio.
“I think you’re responsible for killing the last Neanderthal. I always knew women were the death of men,” he said, standing up and towing the gigantic man away from Rox.
She brushed herself off as she popped into a standing position. “That gorilla smells like he hasn’t taken a shower since the stone ages,” Rox said, and then her eyes suddenly darted back to the sidewalk. A white van had pulled up next to Malcolm, and a man whose black uniform she recognized was dragging the drunk into the back of the van.
“Hey! No!” she yelled, bolting forward.
The guy raced to get in the van as the passenger window rolled down and another guard saluted in their direction. “Thanks for the lift before. We’ll take this one this time,” he said as the van sped away down the busy street.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“She slept with wolves without fear, for the wolves knew a lion was among them.”
- R.M. Drake
The third Sunday of the month was Mrs. Magner’s day on the church flower committee. She’d been arranging the flowers for those services since Kaleb could remember. He used to play in the back rooms of the church while she trimmed flowers on Saturday evening, taking care as she arranged them in large vases. Other than when Kaleb was a young child and his mother’s constant companion, she always arranged the flowers alone, once remarking that it was a meditative process.
The church was empty aside from Mrs. Magner when Kaleb slid in through the back exit. He could hear her humming down the hall, although the music she made wasn’t loud; it was just that his werewolf ears made it possible for him to hear that which most didn’t notice. He flexed his fingers, gauging how normal his hands looked when not changed. No one would believe that he grew claws, fangs, and hair when changed. Well, Mrs. Magner would. She’d seen it with Zephyr.
Not making a noise, Kaleb paused in the doorway to the kitchen. Mrs. Magner was bent over a table, roses and carnations laid out in front of her. She snipped an end of greenery and then slid it into the vase.
“Mother,” he said in a whisper.
The older woman spun around, horror already written across it. In her hand she held the shears and a red carnation. “Kaleb,” the woman said, her face turning into one of shock and then shifting to relief. Dropping the things in her hands, she rushed forward, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, son, where have you been?” she asked, pulling him in to her tightly. He heard the tears in her voice and released one of his own that rolled down his cheek and landed on her shoulder.
Pulling back, the woman looked Kaleb over. “Are you all right? For God sake, I’ve been so worried. I thought you were dead and then…” She trailed away, biting down on her bottom lip and shaking her head as more tears spilled over her smooth cheeks. “Oh, Kaleb, the worst thing has happened.”
“I know, Mother,” Kaleb said, holding her hands in front of them. It felt so good to see her and then also so wrong. This was the woman he’d loved unconditionally and yet, there were so many things unsaid between them. So many things he could never say, afraid to lose her favor. Was that unconditional love or was it censorship? “Father is dead. I know. I was there when it happened.”
Her hands flew to her mouth. “You were? Why? That was at our house,” she said.
“I know. I was coming home to see you. To say goodbye,” he said.
“You saw it?” she asked, wrinkles springing up around her eyes as she squinted with shock. “Then you know what attacked him. Oh, my poor dear. I’m so sorry you saw that. No wonder you ran away,” she said, and stepped forward to hug him again.
Kaleb shook his head and stepped back, holding up his hands. “A werewolf didn’t kill Father. It was a man. Not a normal man, but it wasn’t a werewolf,” he said. He was going to fix this. Adelaide had trusted him and he knew how to make his mother stop.
She was already shaking her head before he was done speaking. “Maybe you didn’t see it. I was there watching through the window. I saw the werewolf and the horrible things it did,” she said with a shiver, like the event was playing before her eyes again.
“No, Mother. I know for a fact it wasn’t a werewolf who killed Father,” Kaleb said. “I swear to God.”
Mrs. Magner opened her mouth to say something, but shut it, pursing her lips. “Now you know better than to—”
“Mother, I’m a werewolf. That’s how I know. The one you saw isn’t bad. He was protecting me. Saving me,” Kaleb said, flipping his head over his shoulder. Upstairs someone had entered the church. He needed to be fast.
Tears choked out of Mrs. Magner at once. “Oh dear Lord. Say it isn’t so. That’s where you’ve been? That’s what you’ve become? One of those awful beasts?” she said.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, on the verge of yelling. Why couldn’t she just this once listen to him without judgment? Without presuming she knew everything?
“What happened, Kaleb? Tell me now,” she said, that firmness that he associated with his mother returning at once.
Kaleb’s gaze flew up at the ceiling. The people upstairs were moving around. They could be headed down here. He couldn’t be seen. Caught. “Look, I don’t have time to go into this. I just came to tell you that you need to stop this campaign against werewolves. You’re putting too much attention on us. You’re making it harder.”
“Kaleb, if you’re truly a werewolf then you need to be taken into custody. I’m calling someone. We’ve got to have you restrain—”
Kaleb paused time just as Mrs. Magner slid her hand into her pants to probably retrieve her cell phone.
“Mother,” Kaleb said, shaking his head with heavy disappointment. He studied her frozen face, feeling the lump in his throat rise up. “I’ve never been good enough for you. I was never smart enough. Devoted enough. Well-mannered enough. My sisters were good and I was flawed. Father and you never, not once, told me I met your expectations. Instead, you two told me to go to church more. Study harder. Love God better. Well, that’s not who I am. I’m a werewolf. I’m an awesome werewolf who can stop time and save people. I’m not what you wanted, but that doesn’t make me not good enough.” Kaleb stepped back, studying his mother’s face, her eyes glassed over. “I love you, Mother. Please stop protesting that which I am. Just this once accept me and my people. And leave us alone.”
With a weight in his heart he’d have to come to terms with, Kaleb spun around and raced for the exit, knowing he only had a few seconds before time resumed again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“The modern wolves were the offspring of ancestors that had survived because they had learned that human meat ha
d sharp edges.”
- Terry Pratchett
Rox’s face said it all. It said that she had bad news. She didn’t wear the defeated look too well because the girl hardly ever had the experience. Zephyr dropped his chin, clapping his hand to his forehead as Rox and Rio trotted down the corridor of the strategic department. Adelaide and Zephyr had been reviewing the newest reports on the werewolf protests. Things had gone from bad to fucking horrible and now it appeared more bad news was on the way.
“Why don’t you have a new mutt on a leash?” Adelaide said, folding up the LA Times newspaper.
“They weren’t successful,” Zephyr said, answering her question.
“Bloody great! Send a slut and a meat head to do a job and of course they aren’t successful,” Adelaide said, looking at Zephyr. “I blame you for this. You should have gone on the mission.”
He only shook his head at the impossible girl. “What happened?” Zephyr said, when Rox and Rio stopped just in front of him.
“We killed a Neanderthal if that’s any consolation,” Rox said.
“It’s not. Why did you have to kill the Neanderthal?” Zephyr said.
“Beats me. Same reason that we have to take out invisible people and mega wolves on any of these rescue missions?” Rox said.
“Boss, I’m sorry,” Rio said, interjecting. “While we were defending ourselves against the Neanderthal, the damn rent-a-cops swooped in and picked up Malcolm, who, by the way, was shitfaced.”
“Need I remind you that you were inebriated when I brought you in as well?” Zephyr said.
“You don’t need to. Seems like the weres are some pretty big losers,” Rio said, tying his thick arms in front of his chest.
“That’s not true. It’s just a coping mechanism. We aren’t emotionally equipped to be out there away from the pack. That’s why we all went back to our hometowns,” Zephyr said.
“So now Mika has a werewolf. It’s official, Rox, you’re fired,” Adelaide said.
“Actually, I heard the rumors and think you could use some of my media contacts through the FBI to defuse the situation,” Rox said, bouncing her hip a bit, her hand resting on it. She already looked recovered from her loss.
“You mean the werewolf protests? What can you offer? I can delay your firing for a few days,” Adelaide said.
“You’re so kind, Freckles,” Rox said, not meaning it. “As an FBI agent, I can hold a press conference and deny any allegations regarding werewolves. I’ll calm fears with the rabid wolf case.”
“It’s about time you did something of use around here, Hooker Shoes,” Adelaide said.
Rox playfully kicked her black five-inch heel behind her, throwing back her head as she did. “Besides giving the boys something good to look at.”
“How are you going to address the newest allegation?” Zephyr said, redirecting the discussion back to the matter at hand. Rox just wasn’t satisfied unless she was the center of attention. Maybe it was because it was easy for her to get the attention or it was a deep-seated insecurity. He didn’t know since she never talked about anything other than sex and work.
“I’m going to state that Kaleb is still missing and that our last report showed he’d left the country for a backpacking expedition and hasn’t returned,” she said.
“That’s a good plan,” Zephyr said, picking the newspaper out of Adelaide’s hand. “We’re not calling Mrs. Magner a liar, but it negates her claims.”
“No, we have to figure out what to do with the runt. I say we kill him, but murder is frowned on by the Lucidites for some odd reason. Bloody goody-goods,” Adelaide said.
“I’ll have a talk with him. He definitely wasn’t thinking clearly. But that happens when emotions block reason,” Zephyr said, unfolding the newspaper. The headlines of the front page stared back at him, a string of words that only made the tension in his head worse. The article fueled the concerns regarding the deaths reportedly done by the rabid wolf. Zephyr reread the headline, his jaw clinching.
Woman Leading Werewolf Protests Claims Her Son Is One of Them
Chapter Thirty-Five
“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.”
- George Carlin
Malcolm was still asleep when Mika marched into the lab. He wasn’t smiling, but victory made his green eyes lighten, seeming to dance with a long-awaited delight. Finally. Finally he had recovered one of the pack members. For too many months he’d been holding off the investors’ inquiries. Now he’d have something positive to report. Yes, he’d lost Luolamies, but still Olento Research had the documentation. They’d successfully de-evolved a man. That was information that could be sold. Soon he’d sell the bulk of his experiments. That was his plan for securing the funding for the teleporting project.
The person who had helped him acquire the Arcturian had the procedure for teleporting. Charles Knight. It had been over a decade since Mika made contact with his old mentor. However, he’d come to Mika with a business proposition, which soon turned into a series of them. Mika had agreed to buy the alien, which allowed Knight to start a new venture where he manufactured Dream Traveler children and turned them into thieves. Knight was a man Mika could respect. The only true equal he’d ever met. And now, Mika was that much closer to gaining the information on teleporting. Everything was finally turning in his favor.
“Wake him up,” Mika said to Drake when he halted in front of the bars to Malcolm’s cell.
“I have been trying,” the grumpy German said. He banged his clipboard against the metal bars, making a sharp sound. “Hey! Wake up!”
Mika’s eyes closed with annoyance as he shook his head. He held up his hand and pointed it at the body lying on the lumpy cot. From his hand water sprung, shooting through the gap in the bars and landing on the sleeping werewolf. One of the last skills he manufactured and had given himself before the werewolf project was the power to produce and harness water. That’s why it wasn’t a surprise that many of the werewolves could control the elements. They were, in essence, a part of him, as their creator.
Malcolm sputtered out a yell of surprise, pushing up and off the cot. He blinked, staring at Drake and Mika with a confused face. Creases from the cot lined his cheek, which was swollen due to the alcohol.
“Wh-wh-where am I?” Malcolm said, staring around the cell. Then he pressed both his hands to the side of his head. “No! Fucking no!” he said, everything seeming to piece together in his slowly sobering mind.
“Welcome back,” Mika said, no warmth in his voice. “Now, you will start training in one hour. Before that, I want to know what your Dream Travel gift is.”
“Dream Travel? Training? What? No, I want out of here,” Malcolm said, rushing forward and wrapping his dark hands around the bar.
“Of course you do. And you’re no doubt hungry,” Mika said casually, pulling a metal lid off of a plate sitting on the tray just far enough away from the cell bars. A porterhouse steak, almost raw, sat in its juices on a plate. “And you will be fed once you complete your first training. How does that sound?”
“Let me out of here, you fucking lunatic! I’m not doing anything you say!” Malcolm said, spit flying from his mouth.
“You’re going to remain in that cell and extremely hungry if you keep up that attitude,” Mika said. The best compliant device was depriving people of the basics. It was how he planned to brainwash Malcolm into being a devoted werewolf, completing “jobs” for him.
“You can’t do this! When I change into a werewolf I’m going to rip your throat out,” Malcolm said.
Mika released a proud smile. Yes, Malcolm was acting irrational now, but in a couple of days, he’d be the most loyal dog. “Now, go ahead and tell me, what’s your gift? What extra power do you have? Giving me that information is the first step to getting fed,” Mika said, looking down at the thick steak.
“Fuck you! Your shit won’t work on me,” Malcolm said. And then the porterhouse rose in the air, flying across the space an
d through the bars and into Malcolm’s outstretched hand. He caught it with a sly smile. “Try another tactic, Fucker.” With a wide mouth he sank his teeth into the meat, tearing it off like an animal.
Mika released an annoyed breath before turning to Drake. “Have his cell reinforced with plexiglass. We can’t have our guest telekinetically pulling things into his cage.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be—the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer—which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself.”
- Farley Mowat
The door to the liquor store buzzed every time a loser patron entered or exited. Most carried brown paper bags away, full of poison that they willingly bought and would consume. Hunter sat in the black SUV, watching the flow of traffic, when a beat-up sedan tore into the parking lot.
“Right on time,” he said, gripping his hands around the steering wheel. Some things never changed. Hunter had been watching his mom for months now and knew that just like when he was a child she dragged herself to the liquor store about the same time most days. Some days she didn’t make it but that was because she was too drunk from the day before. It had been like that ever since his stepfather left, which was a blessing and curse.
He used to wait in the backseat of her piece of shit car while she went into the liquor store for a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes. On hot LA days, she refused to roll down the windows more than a crack to grant him fresh air away from the smoke. She complained that she didn’t want the air conditioning escaping. He complained that he couldn’t breathe. Unable to control his temper, because he was never taught how, he’d kick the back of her seat, but that would only later earn him a beating. His mom was the worst human being. Of all women she was the most horrid. Lazier. Weaker. Meaner.
