by Sarah Noffke
With a clawed hand it ripped the rest of the frayed shirt from its body. Now torn fabric sat in a puddle next to the werewolf. When Frankenstein’s werewolf grabbed at its blistering boot, Connor made his move, diving at the monster. His claws slammed into the beast’s shoulders, but it didn’t tumble down, even being on one foot. Like meeting a wall, Connor was the one who was pushed back from the unsuccessful assault. Unflustered by the attempt, the animal simply raised its head and stared at Connor, its obsidian eyes glowing across the dark space.
Overhead a spotlight flipped on, making both werewolves narrow their eyes. A crew of police officers in the terminal stood, facing out of the blanket of windows. The spotlight they’d turned on shone from above, attached to the outside of the airport terminal. They were watching, but unprepared for how to deal with two werewolves fighting on the tarmac. Good, Connor thought, whipping around and throwing a fist at the werewolf’s chin. This time Wolf X’s face swung to the right from the force, and it stumbled backward. Again Connor, who had never really been in a fight, swung his foot around, knocking across Wolf X’s body. But the animal didn’t budge. He was steady as a rock on his feet, which made no sense to Connor. Undeterred, Connor ripped forward, his clawed hand dragging across Wolf X’s face. And even though its black fur protected his skin, Connor still felt his reddish claws pierce skin and rip through flesh. The animal howled its complaint, retreating back a step.
Interesting, Connor thought, bouncing on his toes. Adrenaline felt like heroin, making him want more. Making him feel invincible.
The door to the jet closed suddenly, catching Connor’s attention. The pilot and flight attendant were locking themselves in the jet away from the deranged werewolves. Smart move, Connor thought and then from his peripheral he caught the movement too late. Wolf X’s claws shot forward in an uppercut, catching Connor under the rib. The knife-like claw stabbed into Connor’s torso, blinding him with pain. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. The act of drawing in a breath almost ended him right then. Wolf X seemed to almost smile as he lifted his hand in the air, lifting Connor on it, like he was pinned to a spike. Again Connor opened his mouth, but only blood spilled out, dripping down to his chin.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Connor Luce has twice run away from the Institute, which the Head Official deems as unstable and unreliable behavior. The presiding agent in the case has deemed him ‘dead meat.’”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Escorting two werewolves through DFW airport was by far one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of Rox’s life. But FBI badges did wonders for curious TSA agents. They knew better than to question her when she flashed the badge and said she didn’t have time to answer questions. “Dangerous prisoners,” she said, motioning to Zephyr and Rio. They both had their hooded heads down, and their hands pinned behind them, making them appear handcuffed. Hopefully only Rox could hear their ragged breaths and slight growls under their black hoods. She knew it wasn’t easy for either man to remain in control when the wolf probably wanted to feast on travelers hurrying by. The good news was that the Olento Research jet was parked in a private terminal where there were fewer people and minimal security.
Rox spied Rio pull his hands in front of him. She shot forward, pressing the Taser close to his hip. “Don’t you think about it, Rover,” she said in close to his head. He stiffened, repinning his hands behind his back. She’d electrocuted him a total of three times since they’d generated their bodies at the GAD-C. Like a dog, these werewolves were easily trainable. “I promised you flesh, but we’re not there yet. I’ll unleash you in a moment. Only a bit farther,” she said, pointing to a door. “Just up ahead there, and you’re free. Do what you want, but only to the big bad wolf. Don’t hurt Connor.”
Rio nodded under his hood, making a grunting sound.
The smells were the hardest part for Zephyr. He could smell Rox, and it was more than alluring. He desperately needed to sink his teeth into her, to slice her open and lick at the flesh. However, that would never work for Rox and so the smells of the people in the area were now the tempting aroma pulling at his restraints. But Rox had already tased him once and he knew that she was leading them to a bigger and better feast and she had promised a fight. The werewolf could hardly control its excitement. A fight and feast. It was the best possible combination.
So distracted by the smells and the many things vying for Zephyr’s attention, he didn’t realize they’d gone through a door until the icy wind hit him. It was a welcome sensation since the hood was hot and blocking his face and had caused his brow to sweat. The wind howled through the hood, seeming to call Zephyr’s name. It fed him in a way that meat never could. It spoke to his spirit, telling him he was unstoppable. He was the wind.
His head drew back suddenly when Rox pulled down his hood and then Rio’s beside him.
“All right, you puppies. Fetch,” she said, and pointed in the distance where two werewolves stood. One was massive, strange with his lopsided head. The other was without a doubt Connor. A desire to protect, to guard, raced through him. Zephyr took a step forward just as Wolf X’s claws ripped forward and he thrust them straight into Connor’s stomach, pulling him up off his feet as he did.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Hunter Smith, the werewolf supposedly responsible for the attacks in Los Angeles, was released from prison through a special request by Parantaa Research. His aggressive tendencies were a variable for testing and now appear to prove are increased exponentially due to the wolf DNA.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
Connor struggled to bring oxygen into his lungs. The claws were in him, seeking to meet his spine. Now he didn’t feel anything but the panic. The panic that this moment was his last. He gurgled on a breath as he stared down at Wolf X, who brought him in closer to his face. Its long snout caressed Connor’s face as it sniffed him, seeming to drink in his smell. Revulsion so deep churned inside of Connor, but any attempt to free himself was futile. He had come all this way for nothing. Only to die. He’d run away again, disappointing Adelaide. And now she’d hate him forever. Connor closed his eyes, feeling his life slip away. At least it wasn’t drugs that killed me, he thought, sipping on a breath, which he believed would be his last.
Zephyr bolted forward, feeling the increased speed the wolf lent him. It was as if he was moving like the wind, graceful and quick. Rio’s footsteps were in rhythm with his own.
“Plan, boss?” Rio said. They were roughly fifteen yards from Wolf X.
“You take out his legs and I’ll follow up with an assault. Then you take over and I’m on Connor,” Zephyr said as they ran. And then they were on the scene in that same moment.
Wolf X rotated his head over his shoulder just as Rio slid forward, knocking his feet into the strong legs of the beast. To Zephyr’s surprise, the monster didn’t budge, but rather merely stepped back, releasing Connor from his claw. His limp body toppled to the ground, where he changed back into a man almost immediately. Was he dead? Or just too depleted to fuel the werewolf? Zephyr didn’t have another moment to think on it. With the werewolf not put off balance, it was Zephyr’s turn to assault him. He shot his fist at Wolf X’s chest, able to get a solid shot, since the thing was swatting its bloody claws at Rio, who was stumbling to a standing position. However, again the assault to the werewolf’s chest had little effect. Instead of tumbling backward, he turned his black eyes in Zephyr’s direction and rammed his ugly head into Zephyr’s, sending him backward. But to his surprise he noticed that Wolf X also fell backward from the act. Rio tagged Zephyr out, lunging at the werewolf while he was momentarily stunned.
Zephyr shook his head, noticing that Rox had Connor’s arm around her shoulder. She easily pulled him up, pinning his weight on her side. Rox dragged him a couple of feet before speaking. “I’ll get him back. I want you two back too as soon as you’re done with Sergeant Ugly,” she said, heaving Con
nor another step.
Then Connor’s eyes fluttered a bit, blood dripping from his mouth. And through a gurgle Zephyr heard him say, “His head. That’s his weak spot.” With his eyes still closed, Connor’s head lulled back, as he completely passed out.
“You heard him, Z,” Rox said, hiking the guy up higher on her. “Take out his head.”
Zephyr nodded, feeling the wolf in him sprint forward in his mind. It was getting easier to share his body with the beast. And the wolf was tamer now when necessary. It seemed to understand rules and reasons. Zephyr turned his attention back on the fight just in time to watch Rio fly backward several feet from a bitch slap to the face. This werewolf was incredibly strong and more deranged than them. He could read the aggression in the animal and it looked like it could tear him in two. A howl spilled out of Wolf X’s mouth and Zephyr launched a fist at his mouth, his knuckles cutting open from the impact. The fangs were impossibly sharp, sinking deep into his hand. But the assault hadn’t been without merit. Wolf X’s face swung to the side and right then Rio dived at his midsection, tackling the hideous beast to the ground.
Overhead a loud piercing sound rang through the air and suddenly all three werewolves dropped to the ground, covering their ears. It was a high-pitched sound, one that paralyzed Zephyr’s mind, making him unable to act. He pulled his head up briefly to see a police officer blowing a dog whistle into a bullhorn. The noise had at first broken the werewolves into submission, but the longer it went on, the more Zephyr only found it incredibly annoying. He held up his hand and projected it at the officer, who stood a safe distance away, by the catwalk. However, he wasn’t safe from wind. An icy gale effortlessly shot from Zephyr’s palm and sailed until it pushed the officer backward, the bullhorn and whistle flying from his hand and away.
“Dumbass,” Zephyr said, turning in the direction of the fight. Rio had pushed up to a standing position, faster than Wolf X, and ran at him, kicking him in the face like his head was a football that needed to be launched across the field. Rio’s super strength nearly severed the strange-shaped head from the body. The beast howled as he flipped over, his face tearing with a large gash from the assault. Zephyr quickly crouched and then sprung in the air, landing on Wolf X. As though injected with a mega dose of adrenaline, Zephyr rammed his fist again and again into the head of the beast, pummeling it until it was unrecognizable. His bloody fist didn’t stop until Rio placed a clawed hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Zephyr’s vision cleared from the blurred movement and he looked down on what he’d done, his stomach instantly tightening with disgust.
“Let’s get him out of here,” Rio said.
Zephyr agreed with a nod. He stepped back as Rio moved forward, easily picking up the massive werewolf. Yes, leaving a werewolf’s body wouldn’t be good. And then in a matter of moments Wolf X transformed, sinking into the image of a man, his body bare and skin pale. Zephyr shook his head. They were only men. All of them were only men, who had been made into something else. They were pawns made into werewolves.
Chapter Forty
“Cole Cosgrove – Age: Twenty-six. Height: Six foot, two inches. Weight: Two hundred and ten pounds. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Brown. Ethnicity: White. Employment: Nurse. Skill: Unclassified. Rank: Unknown.”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Mika turned away from the mirrored window where the scientist and the subject sat. Another waste of money, he thought, dismissing the image behind him. His attempts to create eidetic memory had failed. Project Muisti was just another one he’d file away. However, Mika was a success because he didn’t bow to defeat, but rather used it to create further opportunities for him. Through the speaker on the wall he heard the scientist ask the man with the bandaged head another series of questions.
“Do you recall anything from the pages of the book?” the scientist said.
“You flipped through them so quickly. How was I supposed to?” the homeless man said.
“Just try and recall if any images or words stuck out,” the scientist said. They’d been through these questions already, but the protocol stated that the questions are asked three separate ways before the project is deemed unsuccessful.
“I want my money that was promised to me. You sawed into my brain. Now I want to go,” the ungrateful man said. He wasn’t going anywhere. Instead he’d be offered another sum of money if they could try something else on him. Mika turned his sharp eyes on the bum. The man had a preponderance of wrinkles due to many days sitting on a sun-drenched sidewalk panhandling. But he also had wise eyes, and they were a bright shade of blue. Mika pictured that he’d look less incompetent and more holistic if he could turn the man into a wise clairvoyant. The Lucidites were always a step ahead of him and that was apparently because they had news reporters. It was time that Mika had a clairvoyant that could tell him where to find the werewolves or how to get ahead. This man would work perfectly for that experiment.
Drake swept into the room, breathless as usual. If he didn’t eat greasy food and exercised he wouldn’t be so out of shape, but the scientist was lazy in that regard.
“I have news,” he said, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose beaded with sweat.
“I want you to use this subject for Project Nakija,” Mika said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder at the man in the other room.
Drake paused, regarded the man and then Mika. “The clairvoyant project? But I didn’t think we were quite ready for that one yet,” he said.
“We will never be ready if we don’t start somewhere,” Mika said, walking for the door.
“So Project Muisti wasn’t successful, then?” Drake said.
“Of course it wasn’t successful and I don’t want to lose a perfectly good subject. Prepare him for the experiment,” Mika said, his hand on the door.
“But sir, he just had brain surgery. I’m not sure it’s wise to operate on him again so quickly,” Drake said.
“If he dies, then he dies. We will get another subject. Stop wasting my time with these frivolous concerns,” Mika said, pulling the door back.
“Of course. But sir, I have news,” Drake said.
Mika let out an impatient sigh. “What is it?” he said, turning back around.
“It’s Grant…” Drake said.
“Is he back? Does he have Hugo?” Mika said.
“No, and that’s the thing. He’s not coming back. His tracking device just went offline,” Drake said.
“What does that mean?” Mika said, narrowing his eyes at the old scientist.
“It means he’s dead.”
Chapter Forty-One
“Derek Chang – Age: Twenty-eight. Height: Five foot, five inches, Weight: One hundred fifty pounds. Hair: Dark brown. Eyes: Brown. Ethnicity: Asian/White. Employment: Construction. Skill: Unclassified. Rank: Unknown.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
Throughout the night, Zephyr and Rio ran, fueling the wolves with the multiple sights and smells. The terrain stretched out under their feet, snaking a path that led to further thrills. After disposing of Wolf X, the two men spilled out into a ranch on the west side of the city. The animals stirred with apprehension as soon as the werewolves ran onto the property, but their endings were all swift. The farmhouse’s lights never even switched on, but in the morning the family would find that all of their livestock was dead and their yard was flecked with blood.
Rox didn’t even grant Zephyr a smile when he strolled into the strategic department the next morning, showered and freshly shaved.
“There’s my partner in crime,” Rio said, throwing a fist up high for Zephyr to bump with his own. He did so as he took the seat between Rio and Rox.
“If by crime you mean when you massacred a herd of cattle, bravo, fuck-faces,” Adelaide said, her head down, her red hair partially covering her face.
“We had to eat,” Rio said, with a loud laugh.
“A herd of cattle?” Adelaid
e said, flipping her head up, her face creased on the side, probably from where it had been resting on her hand.
“We were hungry from battle,” Rio said.
“Yeah, and I’m still working to cover up that epic battle at the airport. You know how many minds we’ve had to erase and phones we had to confiscate?” Adelaide said.
“Mind erasing? You all have that technology?” Zephyr said, leaning forward suddenly.
“Damn, the Lucidites are pretty badass,” Rox said through a whistle.
“We make the FBI look like a fucking preschool,” Adelaide said.
“That you do,” Rox said, not looking deterred.
Adelaide placed her hand on the table, and realized at once that she was looking for her book. That’s where she always rested her hand during these meetings, like it was loaning her strength. But still there hadn’t been a sign of it anywhere. Soon she’d have to start killing Lucidites just to deal with the strain of the loss, although her father said that kind of thing never worked to quiet the monster. Still, she’d try. He was never wrong, but there was always a first.
“How is he?” Zephyr said, allowing the generic “he” to hang in the air. They all knew who he meant, but saying his name was difficult after everything that “he” had been through.
“He’s out of surgery and currently has a fleet of healers working on him,” Adelaide said.
“Will he pull through?” Zephyr said.
“Probably. As much as I keep hoping he will die,” Adelaide said.
“He must be a cat rather than a dumb dog, based on his number of lives,” Rox said.
“Out there, you all… well, you got the job done,” Adelaide said. Her father had told her that a leader doesn’t offer compliments but rather makes agents beg for it, dangling the idea like a carrot. The surefire way to encourage complacency was apparently by offering positive feedback.
