by Sharon Joss
Surprise, surprise. Dixon had a soft spot for weres. Maybe a brother or buddy. For all the cement and bars, the kennels had been immaculate. Cleaner than the holding cell at the 104. “Message received. Can I go now?”
“Let me clarify a couple of things for you, Bane. Whenever a citizen is attacked by a werewolf, it’s bad news. When people hear about werewolf problems in this part of the state, it’s bad for the tourist business, which means it’s bad for the fine citizens who live here. Incidentally, it’s also bad for the law-abiding lycans who have enough problems already. This county, in fact the entire region, has more than its fair share of families affected by ALVS. We don’t need the kind of outside attention and violence you’re bringing into this community. Nobody wants you here. I think you should find yourself another place to live.”
“I was minding my own business. That is not a crime. Would you be saying this to me if I worked at Mythica?”
Dixon frowned. “Mythica is a private estate in another county owned by the Van Cleve family. They are well-respected members of the community, and one of the original founding families in the region.” Dixon rubbed his fingers together in the universal ‘they got lotsa bucks’ sign. “They’re not my concern.”
“They’re vampires.”
Dixon’s jaw twitched. “Old news, kitty-cat. They negotiated the first territorial boundaries with the High Tor Fae and established the first vineyard in the region. They’re the largest single employer of werewolves in the state, they pay their taxes, and I’ve never heard even a whisper of a problem happening out there. Their private amusement park is only open four days a week, but visitors bring a ton of out-of-town money into this area every summer. On the other hand, the only thing you’ve brought is trouble.”
“From what I hear, they have a lot of lycans go missing out there.”
Dixon’s face colored. “Vince Dazak is the Security Chief for the estate, and an Alpha wolf to boot. His Beta lived here in Ontario County, and when the officer went missing, Vince brought me the surveillance records himself, without being asked. Everything checked out. Mythica microchips their employees, and has just about every square inch of the premises covered with surveillance cameras.”
“Look Bane, Mythica is one of the few places in the state that actively recruits people with ALVS. They even offer medical benefits. Vince told me his Beta’s attitude had changed recently. He’d become alienated from the pack. The Van Cleves became so concerned, they even hired a therapist to talk to him.”
Mike shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Must’ve hit a nerve.
Dixon counted off his actions on his fingers. “I checked phone records, credit cards, bank transactions. Even fishing charters and boat rentals to see if he might have gone fishing out on the lake and capsized. We got nothing.”
“Why are you telling me this?” We’re wasting time.
Dixon paused, his face a mask. “He had a gun registered in his name, and we couldn’t find it or his cell phone. Wherever he is, he’s off the grid. He’s a grown man with no family or support system, afflicted with an incurable, isolating disease. I don’t know about the others, but we won’t be finding this guy. That’s how most of ‘em go, you know.”
“I thought wolves in packs fared better than lone wolves.”
“Lycanthropy isn’t about wolves, Bane. I would think you, of all people, would understand that.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. I’m not like them. “I need to get to the hospital.”
Dixon sighed. “Listen, we try to treat the local weres just like anybody else around here, and that’s a damn sight better than they can expect from law enforcement up in the city. I know you’re worried about your godfather, but you have to understand my position. We’ve got a one strike tolerance for werewolves in this town. Your continued presence represents a real threat to the citizens I am sworn to protect. What happened to Tom is your fault.”
Dixon jerked his head in the direction of the Kennel Room. “I’ll have the writ of execution for your two buddies in there by the end of the day. They’ll be out of their misery by midnight. This is the only warning I’m going to give you, Bane. Get out of town.”
CHAPTER 8 : BITE INSURANCE
It was past nightfall when the doctors came out of surgery to talk to him.
“His wounds are extensive, Mr. Bane. Your godfather is stable, but not out of danger yet. There was severe crushing damage to the throat and right carotid artery, but we’ve been able to partially repair the damage. There may be some nerve damage as well, but we won’t know for quite some time. He won’t be conscious until sometime tomorrow.” The surgeon’s nametag said Dr. Jalil Singh.
The doctor’s gown bore traces of blood spatter. Tom’s blood. Mike was no wimp, but looking at it made him nauseous. “Is he going to make it?”
“He was bleeding out when he was brought in, but the infection from the wolf bite is just as worrisome as the wound itself. He’s very sick.”
Every word the doctor said felt like a physical blow. Mike fought to maintain a neutral expression.
“The likelihood of lycanthropy transmission in a case like this is extremely high, but not guaranteed. We have had some small successes in early intervention by diluting the patient’s blood with transfusions.”
“Does Mr. Jolley have any other family?” The woman’s nametag indicated she was a doctor, too. Sarah Powers.
The name rang a bell. “I’m all he’s got. I’m responsible for him. This is all my fault.” Lieutenant Dixon’s condemnation still rang in his ears. In more ways than one. “Is he going to live?”
“I’m sorry to put this so bluntly,” Dr. Singh said, “but the only way to be sure is to perform surgery. Typically, the lycanthropy virus heals the body with no further treatment. However, if he has not contracted the virus, he will certainly die without extensive surgical intervention and reconstruction. The costs associated with this kind of specialized surgery are quite substantial and not covered by ordinary health insurance. Do you have access to the kind financial resources required to cover the costs of his care?”
Mike felt the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean, they’re not covered?”
“Lycanthrope-caused injuries of this nature are specifically excluded from standard policies. The mere presence of a lycanthrope contaminant in this hospital represents a substantial threat. In order to limit financial exposure and risk in cases like this, the hospital has implemented a policy of requiring evidence of ability to pay prior to further treatment.”
“Are you saying you don’t treat lycans?” The bitter words stuck in his throat. This is my responsibility. His mind raced as he estimated how much money he could come up with. Nowhere near enough. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders.
Dr. Singh shook his head. “You don’t understand. The arguably miraculous benefit of the lycanthropy virus is that the patient’s altered DNA allows the body to heal itself from even the most devastating injuries. Even severed limbs can be re-grown. ALVS sufferers never require medical care unless the wounds are contaminated with silver.”
“I get it. So is he infected or not?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Jolley’s exposure to the virus occurred at the same time as his injuries. The antibodies, if they are present in his bloodstream, take time to build up in his system. Our tests cannot detect the presence of the disease until after the onset of the first event.”
“You mean the full moon.”
Both physicians nodded.
He raked his hand through his scalp. This is a frickin’ nightmare. “But that’s weeks away.”
“Precisely my point,” agreed Dr. Singh. “If Mr. Jolley has been infected, he will heal on his own, even though we cannot detect the presence of the disease. If he has not been infected, he will die without the surgery.”
“Do the surgery.”
Both doctors looked relieved. “We’ll need you to sign the necessary papers before we can proceed. The finance office is on
the first floor, there is always someone on duty.”
I’ll bet there is. He wondered how much the operation would cost. It didn’t matter; not really. Whatever it took, whatever the cost, he’d make it right for Pops. He’d put the cottage up for collateral. He’d figure something out. He had to. Tom’s future depended on it. He’d already ruined Farley’s life. He couldn’t wait for virus to maybe kick in, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to walk away. Not again. “How soon can you operate?”
“Let’s wait and see how he makes it through the night. If he does well over the next few hours, I can rearrange the OR schedule.”
He released a long breath. “Thanks, Doc.”
Dr. Sigh excused himself, leaving him alone with Dr. Powers.
“I can see this comes as a shock for you, Mr. Bane. But your godfather is quite fortunate he was brought here to Thompson Hospital. Most emergency rooms won’t accept ALVS patients; they’re referred to local veterinarians.”
“I can’t accept that.” Not my Pops. Selling the cottage was a no-brainer. He’d move in with Tom and take care of him and run the shop while he recovered. He’d leave as soon as Tom was back on his feet—
“Mr. Bane? Are you all right?” Dr. Powers touched his arm.
“Yeah, sorry. Could you repeat what you said?”
“I said the initial onset of lycanthropy does not need to be traumatic. Our understanding of transmorphic physiology and modern hypnotherapy techniques have given those burdened with ALVS a much higher quality of life than in the recent past. It’s no longer quite the burden it once was.”
She was just a tiny thing, really. Couldn’t have been a stitch over five foot nothing. Her most arresting feature, aside from the thick mop of blond hair, was her expressive, aquamarine-colored eyes.
“Science is just beginning to recognize ALVS as a possible genetic schism rather than a disease. We are seeing newly-afflicted lycanthropes demonstrate acquisition of a common telepathic ability and cultural knowledge of previously undocumented legends. There is even growing evidence to support that lycan pack members acquire a shared consciousness and belief system.”
“Could you repeat that in English?”
“Try not to worry.” She took his hand. “I don’t often get a chance to work with patients from the first day of infection. I plan to retrain his subconscious to accept the inevitable changes at the genetic level before the onset of his symptoms. It will reduce the trauma to his psyche and give him better coping tools.”
“If he does have it.” Mike paused, unable to continue.
“I’m one of the few certified ALVS therapists in the country, Mr. Bane. We’ve pioneered techniques here that are now used worldwide. He’ll be fine.” She smiled encouragingly.
But not even her kind words could lift the weight of guilt off his shoulders. “I wish to god I had never come back. I’ll never forgive myself for this.”
“That kind of talk has never helped anyone.” She tilted her head, as if to study him. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
She didn’t wait for his answer.
“The news reports said you were a were-cat. I’ve never met a were-cat before, but I confess you don’t feel anything like a lycanthrope. What are you?”
He jerked his hand away, angrily. Canandaigua was a small town. He’d never considered that his encounter with Randall would end up in the local news, but of course it would. This was the Queens catastrophe all over again.
“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I have a sixth sense about these things. It’s one of the reasons I made working with lycanthropes my life’s work. I can feel your beast, Mr. Bane, but it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever felt before.”
Mike stepped back. “I better go. I’ve gotta get down to the finance office and fill out that paperwork.”
“I feel your pain, Mike. You’re at war with your inner beast. I’d like to help you.”
Nobody can help me. And right now, she was the least of his problems. “Save it, Doc. Save it for Tom.” A defenseless little thing like her wouldn’t last two minutes in Tehuantl’s hands. “It was nice to meet you. I appreciate anything you can do for him.” He edged toward the stairwell.
She followed him. “I mean it. Fighting only makes things worse. Believe me, I know what you’re going through.”
“No you don’t.” You have absolutely no idea, lady. It didn’t matter how attractive she was. “Good night, Doctor.”
CHAPTER 9 : TEHUANTL AWAKE
She is very attractive, no? Tehuantl's voice echoed in his head. He stumbled and nearly tripped as he trotted down the stairs.
Panic shot through him. Shut up. She’s not for us. I mean, you. Ever.
And perceptive. She’s smart, that one.
Don’t even think about it. I am not letting that woman anywhere near us. No doctors. Especially no head doctors.
You disappoint me yet again. How long has it been since you’ve known the flesh of a woman? Do you even remember? I do. I remember it very well.
His heart pounded. I said shut up. Oh god, he would give anything to get rid of Tehuantl’s voice inside his head. The sound of the smarmy sadist’s voice grated inaudibly in his brain.
You do realize I can hear your thoughts.
Not all of them. Not when you’re asleep.
I’m not sleeping now. Besides, the First Jaguar tells me everything I wish to know.
Mike paused on the stairs, hunched over the railing, and clenched his mind against the intruder. Go back to sleep Tehuantl. The shaman’s eerie laugh echoed in his mind. Mike reached out tentatively, but the spirit was gone. Good. He’d discovered that if he used Tehuantl’s name as part of a command, the priest usually obeyed. As long as there was nothing else of any interest going on.
He drew a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. He knew the cat and the priest communicated directly, but he had no access to their conversations. His own communications with the cat were completely nonverbal. He could send it soothing thoughts, or try to pressure it in one direction or another, but the jaguar made its own choices and never acknowledged Mike’s presence directly.
Tehuantl, on the other hand, after years of relative quiet had become a much stronger presence lately. Ever since the episode with Hector Clemente. Every time Tehuantl popped up with one of his little comments, it was like a waking nightmare. Tehuantl seemed to relish making him uncomfortable.
Mike felt like he was losing control over the whole situation. Coming home had been a huge mistake. If it weren’t for Pops, he’d have left town as soon as Dixon released him, but running away was not an option.
Tehuantl’s attraction to Dr. Powers was a pattern he’d come to recognize. No good could come of it. He’d have steer clear of her, but that might be difficult. He shook his head in frustration.
Not only that, but the cat was starting to resist him. Tom had been right. Trying to keep the cat stuffed with fish wasn’t going to satisfy him much longer. Sooner or later, the cat would decide to head out to the Tor and bring down some real meat. Better to keep the cat happy than risk losing control over Tehuantl. The cat had already decided he preferred to sleep with the dog on the big king-sized bed. He wouldn’t even go near the cage any more. That cat was no fool.
CHAPTER 10 : SON OF A BITCH
“What’s the news,” Taffy asked him. He had the local paper spread open on the bar in front of him. Mike could see a photo of himself sitting in the back seat of the sheriff’s car, although he didn’t recall seeing anyone on the scene with a camera.
“He’s alive. Unconscious still.” Mike settled onto a stool. “They don’t know. The doctors think he’s been infected, but can’t be absolutely certain. They had to give him a lot of blood, which could dilute the risk of virus transfer, but there’s no way to know until the full moon. If he’s not infected, he’ll die without major surgery. I told them to go ahead with the operation. I won’t take that chance. They’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Who’s the su
rgeon?”
“Dr. Singh.”
Taffy nodded. “Good man,”
“Hope so.” He hunched over his beer. “You should go visit him.”
“You’ll never see me inside a hospital again.” Taffy tapped the newspaper in front of him. “Says here you ripped the head off one of ‘em.”
“You can’t believe any of that shit. They were legally executed about an hour ago.” He glanced into the corner, but the dog’s rug was empty. His heart skipped a beat. “Where’s Farley?”
“Haven’t seen him all day. I figured he was with you.”
A heavy sense of foreboding washed over him. “No, he took off running with the third wolf after him.” His jaw clenched rhythmically. Not Farley too. He pushed the beer away and stood to leave. “Maybe he’s at home.”
“Paper says only two were arrested.” Taffy’s eyes narrowed as he focused his attention behind Mike’s shoulder. The jukebox had gone silent.
Mike felt the soft slap of a rolled-up newspaper across the back of his head and the heavy pressure in the air around him increased.
It was one of the toughs from Silas’ pack. “Bad kitty. This is a wolf bar, not a litter box. You don’t belong here.”
The guy was big. Behind him, four of his pals watched expectantly.
“This is neutral ground, Trick,” Taffy warned. “Take a step back and turn down the heat, lad.”
The pressure around Mike increased to a stifling level; the urge to kneel was nearly overwhelming. He’d heard of lycan pheromones of course, but never experienced anything like this. His skin itched with it. Silas was right. Alphas were different. In his head, the cat laid its ears back.
“Take chill pill, Taff. I’m talking to the pussy cat.” The only sound in the bar was that of the newspaper slapping against the side of Trick’s massive leg. “Scram, pussy.”
