by Lexy Timms
Angelica had had enough of the dramatics. “Where is Charra?” she asked, coming all the way up to the glass, not caring anymore about her state of undress or anything else. “Tell me that much at least. What did you do with her?”
“Who?” Melinda’s face betrayed bewilderment at the question. She released her grip on her hair and looked at Angelica as if she’d started speaking a foreign language. “Who or what is a Charra?”
“The girl in the ER.” Angelica threw her hands up in frustration. “The one who came in with a plethora of broken bones that all went away because she’d changed.”
“The one you beat the hell out of,” Taylor growled.
Melinda shook her head. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not blaming that on me. That one was Batu. He did that. It was necessary, you see. If she was hurt enough, she would change. She managed to get away from me, though.” Melinda smiled and placed her hand on the heavy steel door. “I had these put in for future escape attempts. She was in no shape to break out, but her people got her free.”
“Her people?” Angelica shot a glance over to Taylor. A sudden hope clutched at her. Taylor shook his head slightly. Angelica bit her lip and clamped down on her excitement before Melinda noticed. Thankfully she was too caught up in herself.
“Yes. Sadly, none of the extractions or splices worked well at all. I had hoped that the females would carry the new gene into the reproductive organs, and thus breed a new species in which the lion was stronger and more feral.” She turned to Taylor. “No offense, but it’s the beast that holds the cure. The stronger the beast, the greater the healing.”
The door behind her opened suddenly. Angelica’s head came up. Someone was entering the room.
“Ah, Franco.” Melinda smiled. “Welcome back. I trust your report was a positive one?”
“My orders are to assist you in every way, Doctor,” Franco said, his voice flat and without emotion. “My superiors will be arriving in a day or two to evaluate your progress.”
“They’re coming here?” Melinda blinked in surprise. She turned to Angelica and studied her for a moment. Angelica had never felt so exposed in her life. The paper gown might as well have been see-through. “I see. I think, then, that we should be ready. If there is any success to be had, it should be within a few hours.”
“Melinda...” Angelica whispered, a sudden suspicion taking hold of her. “What did you do?”
“It occurred to me that I might have been doing this in a backward manner.” She walked over to Angelica’s wall and studied her through the glass. “I have been trying to separate the beast from the woman. It’s rather a primitive attempt, after all. But I have such lovely and so very expensive equipment, I wasn’t able to resist playing with it. Nor could you, I daresay. I’m still trying to isolate the sequence, but it’s time-consuming and so very hard to do when you’re also working a full-time job.”
“That’s why you’re tired all the time,” Angelica muttered. “Maybe you should try sleeping at night instead of...” She waved her hand to indicate the room, and the equipment beyond. “this.”
“Oh, please.” Melinda sighed. “I would kill for a good night’s sleep. Hell, I would take a good long nap at this point. It’s bad enough I’m going into surgery half-asleep, but then to have Manchester breathing down my neck...” She sighed, but a big smile creased her lips. “But one must make sacrifices for progress. Madame Curie gave her life for the discovery of radiation.” She paused a moment as she thought that through. “Though I’m sure she would have found another way if she’d known.”
Melinda took her coffee cup from the shelf and noted that it was empty. “I really do need to move that coffee pot in here, but I can’t stand it black and the refrigerator is in there.” She placed her hand on Franco’s arm. “Do you want anything?” she asked him, “There’s coffee and tea, since I’m going anyway.”
It was surreal, the polite civility when the woman was so obviously deranged. Angelica shook her head in disbelief and found it made her a little dizzy, so she steadied herself against the glass, her hand splayed open.
“No, thank you, Doctor.” Franco stood rigid, staring straight ahead.
“Keep an eye on her,” Melinda said, already halfway out the door. “Call me at once if there’s any change at all. I’m going to freshen up a little as well.”
“Change?” Taylor called. “What change? What are you talking about?” But Melinda was gone. “What is she talking about?” he demanded from Franco.
Franco calmly walked to his enclosure. “I don’t know,” Franco said, biting off each word. “I wanted you to kill Durand, yet you didn’t. You allowed him to live. Now, he’s gone. He escaped justice.” His face was a study in rage. “Now we cannot find him.” He shoved his hand into a pocket of his fatigues. “Had you killed him when you were supposed to, this could have been very different.” He pulled his hand free and held it, palm open to Taylor.
Taylor looked down at Franco’s hand. He started and looked back a Franco’s face. “Really? You think killing that fat pervert would have done shit? Fuck you!” Taylor shoved three fingers up in Franco’s face. Franco’s hand disappeared into his pocket.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Franco said, walking to Angelica’s enclosure. “But considering that your lives are in the balance, I suggest you cooperate. One does not always find a clean death here.” He turned to look at the unit the nurse had just left. “Sometimes it can be very unpleasant and very drawn out.” He shook his head and went to sit down at the desk. His hand disappeared under the counter.
“If she dies...” Taylor shouted.
“You don’t understand, Taylor Mann. It is not death Dr. Truman needs to fear. It’s being forced to continue living that should scare her and you also. There are connections here you do not understand. This place, this hospital, it’s owned and run by a private investor.”
“Are you serious?” Angelica asked. “That would take millions! Who?”
“I do not know. But my superiors are very interested in the outcome of the doctor’s work. My country is almost all jungle and savannah. If there is a way for a soldier to transform when injured, a way to heal instantly, or a way to stalk an enemy as...” He glanced at Taylor. “I found Batu.”
“Franco,” Taylor said, and Angelica could see the effort it took him to speak calmly. His face was flushed, pupils dilated. The man was furious and something had him scared “Why are you doing this?”
“I have my orders,” he said succinctly and shrugged. “I did not know that there was a trafficking ring surrounding these experiments. I did not know that the subjects were being tortured, but it would not have changed my actions. I am a soldier. I had my orders.”
“And you’re a damn good one,” Melinda said, reentering the room, coffee cup in hand. “Thank you, Franco.” Melinda took a sip. “Ah. Much better. Mr. Mann...” she said with a grin. “Ironic that name, isn’t it? I mean, since you technically aren’t human.” She went over to the bottle of gas and examined it. “I am sorry, I was told that you existed, but I’ve never had the opportunity to dissect a tiger. I’ve exclusively had lions. However, you seem to be responding to my bleach toxin.”
“Bleach?” Angelica echoed.
“Sure you’ve figured it out by now,” Melinda said, “pheromones from the lion shifters, added to the bleach. It’s a trigger warning, a way to spot possible shifters. If I can wave a white... well, anything, under their nose and see their reaction, it flags them as a possible match.”
“Then you beat the hell out of them, forcing them to confirm your suspicions.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary in your case, though, Mr. Mann. A reporter of your experience, I’m sure, you’ve managed to gain control over the change quite handily. However, I am curious...” She placed a wrench on the top of the bottle and twisted it, opening it. Angelica could hear the hissing of escaping gas.
“This is a concentrated, aerated form of the pheromones. For ou
r lion subjects, most of whom were quite inexperienced, it induced the change nearly instantaneously. It should be interesting to note if it takes longer with you. Would you say that was due more to experience or to a distinct species?”
But Taylor wasn’t listening. His body twisted, and he grabbed his head and bent over, screaming. He hit the floor hard enough that Angelica could feel the shock through her feet.
“TAYLOR!” Angelica threw herself at the glass. But no matter how much she pounded, it didn’t break.
Chapter 17
The other memory came back. It was here. The body was ill-shaped, the pain incredible. Absolutely incredible. The cat roared and lashed out, but the man only screamed and spasmed. The cat needed to tear, to feel the warm gush of blood that would stop the pain, but the body changed and changed back, and the agony of breaking bones drove the cat to madness.
He heard his mate.
She was screaming, calling to the other memory. He understood it somewhat, partly through the other. Despite the pain, the cat paused. It understood. Though he could always access the other and get the gist of things, he understood the words themselves now. The sharing with the other was direct.
“Don’t fight?” What kind of thing was that to say? He was in pain, great waves of it. His body pulled and tore and reformed again and again; of course he had to fight. He had to fight to...
She means we don’t fight each other.
The cat rolled and screamed as the arm/leg/hand/claw ground under his weight. He heard the other memory. Not a memory now, not a vague sense that he had to follow, but actual thoughts.
Please, the other said quietly. The cat could feel hands on him though no one was near. It was the other, he was holding... soothing... Please. Accept me.
The cat screamed, the man screamed with him. One voice, one heart, and the change began. This time when the bones cracked and ground and shattered and reformed, they didn’t crack and shatter again. When the face moved and molded, it settled into a face and not a moving nightmare of cartilage.
The cat stepped clear of the ripped gown and looked at the woman who was watching him. He knew her. The other knew her and so he knew her. The cat blinked and turned to his mate. He’d known her in the other jungle... the Amazon... and he’d walked with her here in this new place, but it was like seeing her for the first time. He saw through the filter of the other and understood the deepness of the feelings for her, the passion and need he had for her.
He took an involuntary step back. The other was strong, maybe stronger than he was, and he thought that he would die, be swallowed by the other so he would no longer exist. The other was strong enough to subsume him, to bury him forever and destroy the cat.
I need you.
He licked his lips.
Don’t fight me. Don’t fear me.
Yet the other feared the cat. Feared what the cat would do, what he could do. He fought becoming, spent years of his life avoiding the change, keeping him put away, buried until he changed.
I had no right.
Waking up in strange places, surrounded by strangers, unknowing, unaware of who gathered around him, why they all had fear in their smell, and were always running and fighting.
You enjoy that part.
The cat sat on his haunches. That was true. The running, the fighting, the hunting. That was the best part. But to accept the other now? After all these years?
The woman was saying something, but neither he nor the other cared much. The mate was calling his name but the other... if the other had been there in flesh he would be down on one knee, hand out, inviting the cat’s friendship.
He leaped to the table and stood there, looking around at the cage he was in. The other briefly filled him in on what this place was and why it was here. Why they—he—both of him—were here.
He turned and looked at the woman.
“That seemed a great deal more painful than the others. I wonder, is it due to the genus? Is it harder to shift into a tiger than a lion? Or is it that I have only extracted lion pheromones and not tiger? Too many variables.” She shook her head sadly.
“Subject is considerably larger than most tigers, the weight is...” She leaned back to look behind the counter in the middle of the room. “...728 pounds. Adult male white tigers generally do not exceed 570 or so. Subject is also considerably taller/larger than a typical male white tiger.”
She turned to the mate and spoke to her. The cat settled in. Now that he understood what the words meant, he discovered that he was bored. The fascination of being able to understand the noises people had been squawking was severely diminished by the realization that none of it actually was worth hearing.
She’s analyzing us. Trying to figure out how this all works.
Stupid waste of time, really. It worked. It was. The other and the cat, as it had always been. Of course, now it was a little different. Now they were in the same place, together, sharing the body. Now they could think to each other. But that, too, just was.
In order to determine how we change and why, the other said, she may kill us and cut us apart.
The cat growled and licked his lips. She could certainly try. He would be glad to chew on her bones.
The other said nothing and the cat watched with lidded eyes and marked the places to attack the woman, and where to strike the man. It looked up and around the cell, searching for places that would yield, that might open to a well-placed claw.
“Unusual behavior.” The woman spoke into a recorder or something. “So far, all test subjects have shown signs of distress, anger, a dire need to escape. At this point, the subject should be throwing itself at the glass, clawing at the walls or doing something to attempt escape. This subject appears to be accepting of the exam room.” The woman turned to the mate. “Have you domesticated him, my dear?” she asked with a laugh. “Tell me, did you neuter him, too?”
The cat required a moment to understand what was said and roared when the other was done explaining. The woman turned and raised an eyebrow. “Is it possible that you’re able to understand me, even after the change?” She studied him for a moment. “Incredible. I actually believe that you can understand me, Mr. Mann.” She smiled and turned to the mate again. “Has he always been able to understand English when changed? None of the lions seemed to indicate that they were able to share consciousness; they were simply feral beasts.” She walked over to the mate’s cell. “Seriously, Doctor. How can you not want to explore this? How can you look at that and not want to know how it’s done, how it happens? What mechanics are involved? What sort of DNA fragments, what kind of life? What is the evolutionary need that would cause this?” She looked back at the cat and her eyes shone with madness. “This is the closest evidence I have ever seen that would make me believe in an intelligent creator; something like this evolving naturally is... so highly improbable. But, then, why would even God create something so...” She trailed off, as if she had given up finding the right word.
The cat lay on the table and set his head on his paws.
“The man weighed 268. Very impressive considering he had almost no body fat, but he’s a big guy, lots of muscles.” She winked at the mate. “I peeked.” The woman giggled. “Now he’s over 700; where does that extra mass come from? Where does it go? He’s actually creating and destroying mass. That’s not possible, but...” She waved at the cat.
It was dull. Dull was what humans did. It was time to return to the other, to let the other out and for the cat to sleep. It released the body to the other.
Nothing happened.
I don’t think we can change. Not until she allows it. There’s a gas... a smoke that can’t be seen, but you can smell it.
There was a smell. It was thick, heavy. It was a sex smell, a marking smell, a smell of available and territory.
That smell is keeping us in this form.
But the cat was bored. The woman never stopped talking. It sighed and closed its eyes, willing to wait as long as it needed.
/> “Mr. Mann? Mr. Mann? Are you able to understand me?” The cat opened one eye. “I think you can. Mr. Mann, please sit upright on the table and raise your front paws. Begging, that is, like a dog begs for scraps. That should prove you can understand me.”
The cat closed his eyes.
“Franco,” she said, “please go in and fracture Dr. Truman’s right hand.”
The cat’s head came up sharply. Franco was watching the doctor out of the corner of his eye. “Excuse me, Doctor?” he said slowly.
“Batu always did the dirty work, but since he had the audacity to get himself killed...” She shrugged.
“But...” Franco was clearly unhappy with this order.
“No buts,” Doctor Johns said harshly. “If Batu had killed her like he was supposed to, we wouldn’t be here right now.” She turned back to the mate. “Don’t worry, dear. Your boyfriend can save you; all he needs do is sit up and beg.”
The cat shifted to its haunches again. Franco hadn’t moved.
“Franco.” The woman’s eyes were still mad, but the hate directed at Franco was palpable. “You have your orders. You’re assigned to me. I am your superior in this. Do you need me to fetch the lieutenant?”
Franco shook a little. The cat couldn’t smell anything through the glass, but he could recognize rage when he saw it and Franco was like an unexploded bomb. But that wasn’t even the right way to put it. When the other allowed the cat to see bombs and explosions, the cat corrected him. Franco had already exploded, he was just using his shell to hold the explosion in.
The cat rose and sat up, relying on the other to show it how to “beg.”
