One more breath exercise and Matthew felt his worry fall away. He focused on the bit of blue paper, imagining his fingers on the outside. His eyelids dropped halfway. He didn’t feel the slide of sweat as he consciously focused his telekinetic power. The blueprint shifted, then crept upward in tiny jerks.
Matthew rose, sliding his hand upward along the cool cabinet. This shouldn’t be hard; he moved things unintentionally all the time while welding. In his mind, he held the blueprint between two fingers, slowly drawing it upward. Up and over the top of the cabinet. Then the long tube brushed his shaking fingers and he clutched it. Part of him felt powerful. Triumphant. He felt like the caveman that invented fire. Rah!
Matthew pushed the elation aside. Instead of embracing the surge of power inside him, he struggled to put it back inside the box that kept it contained. On the outside, he unrolled the blueprints on top of the mess on the desk.
He could read them well enough, having taken some formal drafting courses back in his college days. It had been his way of flirting with the idea of making everything up to his mother. Her husband, Adam Weis, was a respected builder. Matthew had thought he could have it both ways until his father informed him differently. It was either Richard or Diana. At the time, Matthew picked college. God, he’d been stupid.
The energy still moved inside him, unwilling to be shut away. The power wouldn’t settle, making him more edgy as his senses picked up on pockets of supernatural energy in the vicinity. As Matthew glanced over the building specs, he became aware of several things at once.
One, why would anyone use that much silver plating? Some of it wasn’t even designed to see the light of day. You don’t reinforce with silver. Steel, yes. There were two more labs in the below levels, both with a lot of silver in the design. He shuffled the prints, peering closer at detailed drawings of holding areas, cages, and notes about the security system…which all happened to be where the majority of the supernatural energy was registering. He closed his eyes, briefly focused on a bright spot of energy below, not as far as the lower levels…in the lobby.
More uneasiness slithered along his spine as he rolled the blueprints back up. His subconscious finally spit out what was bothering him. Blueprints. Silver. Palestine. The gate guard. Werewolves.
Fuck! The connection slid into place. It was a big leap of intuition, far-fetched maybe, but Matthew was openly looking for another job when the vampires outed everyone. Then, suddenly he got a promotion and a decent raise? He had a bad feeling about how his brother-in-law fell into this mix. God, Matthew felt used.
He turned and darted for the elevator. He punched the elevator button three times before yanking out his cell phone. Scrolling down through the received numbers, he found the listing he’d lifted from the phone book a while back.
“Hello?’ A child’s voice answered only to be replaced by a grown man’s.
“Yeah. I need Brandon Weis’ number.” Matthew only prayed that he didn’t get hung up on.
“Who is this?” The man on the other end sounded suspicious.
“Uh.” The damn elevator door seemed to be going through every floor. To hell with it. Matthew ran for the stairs. “My name is Matthew. Do you have the number?”
“Hey, Bradley! Some guy named Matt is wanting Brandon’s number. Should I give it? Sounds like a weirdo. Lotta heavy breathing.” He’d never let anyone call him Matt a day in his life. He hit the door at a dead run. Please God let his brother-in-law be okay.
“No.” The other voice yelled back.
Now what, Brainiac? Jesus! He could not catch a break here. “Fine.” Matthew grunted, pounding down the fifth flight of stairs. One more flight left. “Can you call him — ” Matthew rounded the corner and came feet to feet with a body stretched across the landing. “Uhhh!” sliding down, he threw his hands out for balance and landed on top.
It was Hambly. A very dead Hambly. Worse, he’d just touched the body. Trying to overcome the squeamish impulse to wipe his hands and yelp, he scrambled away. He had no idea where his cell phone had gone. Probably, long gone down the steps in tiny pieces. The blueprints were wedged in Hambly’s armpit.
The landing door opened, admitting a well-dressed BioPet executive. “Mr. Ridley. So good of you to drop by.” Matthew paused, like a mouse trapped in a snake’s hypnotic spell. Two goons with military buzz cuts slid in behind him. Huge no-necked muscle-bound goons. They stared at him, anticipation lighting their eyes. One of them actually cracked his knuckles and snarled. Great, he was about to be killed by wrestler wanna-bees.
“Mr. Kemlec.” Matthew looked at Hambly then at the CEO of BioPet, Faust Kemlec. The executive didn’t give the body an eyelash flicker. Well then, it was good to know who offed Hambly. Matthew swallowed. He had only one short run of steps down to the ground floor exit.
“Don’t try it Mr. Ridley. This will be so much easier if you surrender.” A goon stepped to the side with a weird hand gun. It looked a hell of a lot like the XLM Big Game Tranq—Matthew recognized it from the product roll out last month. The specs said that the XLM darts could take down an elephant in less than two minutes. Kemlec smiled. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dream of using another business’s product when we have plenty of our own to spare. I’m sure you saw the XLM’s introduction seminar; attendance was mandatory. Just imagine it designed for creatures with a supernatural metabolism.”
He tsked as Matthew edged toward the next step. He had a mental image of the goon shooting him in the back. Then he would fall face first down the steps and break his neck like Hambly. “Now tell me, Mr. Ridley, why would you mislead me all this time?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Kemlec.” Yes, Matthew thought, let’s go about this whole murder scene in a civilized manner. “I was perfectly honest on my resume.”
Kemlec smiled, cold and a bit lizard-like. “You’re either at very good shielding or a very late bloomer. Which is it Mr. Ridley?”
“I think it’s time for me to resign.” Matthew had one chance. Gathering his strength, he focused his telekinetic power and visualized grabbing the goon’s leg. He jerked the limb forward. Goon fell backwards, huge arms wind-milling on the crowded landing. The second goon covered his boss.
Pain and exhaustion slammed into Matthew as he wrestled with his ability. His vision dimmed, but he hung on to the rail, sliding and throwing his body in the direction he needed. Dodging to the side, a dart hit the wall; he cursed himself for an idiot. Damn Milton Hambly and his penny-pinching audit. Matthew could be at home, watching cable TV and trying to get rid of Grumpy.
Matthew wrestled the ground emergency exit door open and nearly fell inside. His bottom jaw followed the movement. Inside, Armageddon had arrived.
Colorful flyers lay scattered around the floor. A trail of red followed the path one man, make that body, had made skidding across the lobby. Sightless eyes stared into oblivion as he lay crumpled against the bottom of one of the interactive tour stations. Crimson blood spattered the backlit display of a happy white-coated veterinarian and his yellow lab. Hints of things in the blood soaked ruin of the guard’s stomach were best not investigated too closely. Matthew looked away. His gaze snagged on the widening puddle of blood flowing from another ragdoll of a man laying face down on the marbled carpet.
Looking up reinforced the surreal feeling of being in a horror movie. As if in slow motion, the werewolf crouched on the roof of the information desk looked from the trio of guards training tranq guns on him to Matthew. What got Matthew, was that he knew the hairy creature was Brandon Weis up there. Red and white tranq darts stuck all over walls of the information gazebo. The darts pierced his brother-in-law’s faded jeans, arms, and neck. A lot of darts.
The werewolf dodged gracefully between the top BioPet signs. Weis’ hands were extra, extra large and tipped with long wicked claws that could tear a man into ribbons. Fangs, both upper and lower canines, filled his mouth with sharp animalistic teeth that had no place on a human being.
The horror movie
feeling returned as Matthew slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. All in all, he figured that less than a minute had passed. The goon in the stairwell hit the door, forcing it open a few inches, which the goon put to good use. He stuck his hand in it. Unwilling to let go of the door to grapple, Matthew bit the back of the hand. The goon yelled and jerked his hand back inside. “He bit me! Shit! The bastard bit me!”
“Shut up, you fool. You can’t catch anything from a psychic. Now get that door open,” Kemlec ordered. The door shuddered and opened with the force of the goon’s body. Spots floated in front of Matthew’s eyes as he found and flipped the lock on the door. He slumped in relief.
The thud of a dart in the wall next to him made Matthew jump. His eyes darted back to the guards harassing Brandon. One was reloading from a bandolier slung across his shoulders. Number two aimed for Matthew while number three kept Brandon pinned down behind signs. Smart man, thing, er…werewolf, Matthew corrected as he half dove and half fast-crawled behind a scrawny potted plant.
Noting that the guns held two darts at a time, Matthew scurried as fast as he could to the nearest downed guard, the one smashed against the tour station. Dragging the potted plant slowed him down, but was worth it, considering a missile caught in the branches and fell useless to the ground.
“Go after him. He’s not a werewolf.” Ordered the guard trained on Brandon. Matthew scrambled faster as hot nausea ran through him. He wasn’t going to make it. If he could use his power to grab all of the darts and aim them at the guards, they’d be home free. He cursed himself for being too chicken-shit to learn how to use his own abilities effectively.
The sound of something breaking and a yell of “Watch out!” made Matthew look up. The guard shooting at the werewolf didn’t move fast enough to dodge the big section of sign pitched at him. Matthew narrowed his eyes on the tiny red dots scattered over the walls. Desperate measures called for desperate actions.
Clenching his fist, he clutched at them mentally. More pieces of wood and plastic flew among the screams. Matthew’s brain felt as if it were going to explode with the nausea. He barely felt the bee sting in his shoulder before he suffocated under an invisible weight on his chest. Darkness slid over him like black water.
Chapter Four
Naomi woke to sirens and the flash of the light from over the automatic double doors. Animal screams of anger and rage echoed down the hall and into the soundproofed laboratory. Whispers of surprise came from the handful of conscious subjects around the lab as a gurney whisked through pushed by a blue shirted security guard and muscle in a suit. She could recognize a high paid bodyguard any day. They looked exactly what they were. Faust Kemlec and another bodyguard followed on their heels.
The CEO looked ecstatic; he glanced proudly behind him as two more guards used a motorized cart to haul in a pissed off wolven contained in a silver cage. Casters allowed the cage to roll without the guards actually getting close enough to get their heads or limbs ripped from their bodies. The occupant was certainly willing to do the deed.
In human form, the dark haired man howled and threw himself against the silver bars in a manic fury. When that didn’t garner his freedom, he backed up a step, and repeated the gesture. At least his clothing afforded him some protection from the silver. The cage rattled and groaned with the effort, the bars were bent slightly, stressed from the wolven’s battering.
Kemlec practically beamed at Dr. Drake. “Good! You’re in early.” What Kemlec didn’t know was that Drake had stayed to try and convince Nathan, her, and Morrow the tiger to leave. The assortment of vials that Drake wanted to take with him sat on his desk in a small, portable tray. The entirety of her people’s DNA, ready to grab and go. It was insulting.
With smooth practice, moved the vials back to the small refrigerator. Drake straightened as he changed his gloves, folding one in over the other as he pulled the second one off. It was one of those moves that confirmed his familiarity with the medical environment. Kemlec’s triumph soured as he glanced at the cages. “I thought I told you to get rid of the cats.”
“I will when I’m done with them,” replied Drake without looking at his boss. His attention was all for the gurney. Frowning, he placed a hand on the man’s chest. The man looked like someone—she glanced at the bodyguards rumpled suits—had beat the living daylights out of their prisoner before bringing him down. “What is this? This man is not a supernatural.” Drake’s gently touched the ripped, bloody tatters of the prisoner’s shirt.
“Oh, that.” Kemlec’s attention had turned to the cage. He waved a hand at Drake. “Downsizing one of my department heads. He knows too much. He got hit with one of the werewolf tranqs and had to have his heart restarted.” With delight, Kemlec watched the wolven’s attempts to break free. The guard unhooked the cart and left as fast as possible without saying a word. Naomi clutched the blanket in sympathy as the wolven took a swipe at the CEO before worrying at the bars with his hands. The bodyguards hovered on each side, but his interest was centered on Faust Kemlec like everyone else’s. “Just shoot him up with some werewolf saliva and you’ll have your second specimen.”
“I will have to wait for him to recover enough to handle that kind of trauma.”
“You’re always stalling.” Kemlec moved away from taunting the wolven to point a finger at Drake. A couple of other arriving scientists stopped to gawk at the scene. “I want my werewolf flu perfected.”
“And you will have it soon. That does not change the fact that the subject needs to not be near death before I administer the dose.” The scent of the lie wafted into Naomi’s cage. It was his first real slip-up. The scientist was good. None of the psychics had the ability to tell lie from truth, or someone would have called him on it.
“What about the cats?” Kemlec looked a bit suspicious, but seemed to be willing to be wavering. “Won’t they be a distraction?”
With that question, Drake regained control. He walked away to his desk to gather up his all-important clipboard. “Mr. Kemlec. Are you questioning my abilities?” He sounded supremely offended.
“No. Of course not, doctor.” Kemlec was quick to reassure his suddenly prima donna scientist. He patted the air with his hands. “It was just a question. Perhaps, I’ll just leave you to it?”
“Yes. Do that,” answered Dr. Drake glowering through his glasses over the edge of the clipboard.
“No!” a late arriving scientist hurried in waving his hands. Sanderson, in all his pudgy balding glory, cut off Kemlec’s escape. “No, no, no. You said I would get the next ones. Me.” He pointed at the still angry wolven in the cage. “I’ve worked hard for new subjects. I’ve put in requisition after requisition. I have nothing. And the new guy gets them? That’s not fair!”
Kemlec stared him down, dismissing the scientist as if he were nothing. A irritating fly. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he pulled his cell phone out of one and placed it against his ear. The other hand jingled change. Dialing out, he gave the wolven a last look before strolling out of the room. “Marie. Cancel any tours for the month. Maintenance has to do a little remodeling in the lobby. Oh, yes. Set up some interviews and classes for night guardsmen. We have three openings. We should probably post internally first for the manager position, but I really would like another psychic hired…”
Chapter Five
As the day wore on, it was obvious to Naomi that Drake was staying as far away from the angry wolven as possible. She would have thought that he would want to help settle his fellow wolf. Instead, he busied himself with an IV for the unconscious psychic on the gurney while he let the prisoner bang at the cage until the poor creature was worn out. Occasionally he growled low; the sound vibrated in the air.
Her temples throbbed as she tried to process everything she’d learned. Would Drake go so far with his role as to actually turn the psychic? Because of the close confines on the work area he ended up pushing the gurney closer to the cages, right in front of her door. Naomi got her first clear l
ook at the injured man.
Shock hit her with the impact of a truck. She crept forward until she had a clear view. Unlike a lot of psychics, the unconscious man wasn’t a physical weakling. He looked like he worked out, but was still very lean. This close she could see that underneath the bruises and the oxygen mask Drake had affixed, he was a pleasant blend of strong, yet ordinary masculine features. His neatly trimmed dark hair was thick and mussed, inviting her fingers to smooth the locks into place. She knew if he opened his eyes and looked at her, they would be dark and serious.
The only thing keeping the overwhelming sense of déjà vu from sweeping her away in her dream memories was hum of his psychic gift charging the air. The particular aroma of psychic was cloying, drawing the attention of every supernatural in the room. The scent was almost enough to mask the underlying stench of drugs keeping him inert.
Her lioness sat up and took notice. The birthmark on Naomi’s breast heated. God, she wanted him. The cat inside her purred possessively, pressing her closer to the silver bars. Naomi jerked back, hissing at the burn and the stench of singed flesh. She shook her head, incredulous. They were good; she’d give them—all of them, that. She’d almost fallen for the insanity.
Naomi had to get her head screwed on straight. Dreams did not come true, despite what Nathan believed. The unfortunate soul on the gurney was not the cats’ version of ‘The Once and Future King’. Reincarnation was a religious fantasy. Besides, even if her dreams were true, there was no way for a psychic to become a cat. Her people, like most Were groups, lost the ability to transfer their nature through a bite around the same time as the last Leo died.
Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V Page 5
