Predator

by Janice Gable Bashman

  “Yes.”

  “So, we’re not looking to preserve the flesh. We need to transform it into something else, so we can permanently repair it.”

  “Okay…”

  “So what if that hand’s really from a lycanthrope?”

  “I’m not getting where you’re going with this, Bree.”

  “Lycanthropes transform, right? Maybe there are some clues in there.”

  He stared at her but said nothing. Bree tried to get a feel for what he was thinking, but couldn’t; his face was as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. Then he smiled and said, “You might be onto something. If that hand’s from a lycanthrope, we could try adding the transformative properties in the DNA from the hand to the wound repair serum. That just might stop the healing process from reversing.”

  She lit up when she saw the spark of innovation return to her dad’s eyes. “But we’d have to figure out how to make the transformation process only go one way.”

  “But it could work.”

  “Are you going to tell General Maberry?” she asked.

  “Not yet. I don’t want to give him any false hope. But when I do, I wish I could tell him it was your idea.”

  Bree smiled. “I still have plenty of time to make my mark on the world. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to tell me about the wound repair serum.”

  “You didn’t leave me much choice.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.” She thought back to that spring day when she’d confronted her dad, screaming and yelling at him like crazy. She’d cornered him in his home office and demanded to know what was so important at work that he was barely home anymore. He’d refused to tell her at first, said it was classified. But when she threatened to run away and never come back, Bree witnessed something she had never hoped to see: she watched her dad break. He curled forward as if slowly deflating until his shoulders started to shake. When he finally could speak, he confessed for the first time how much Troy’s death had hurt him and how he was working so hard to save other severely injured soldiers.

  She said, “We can still save Andy—and countless other soldiers with him.”

  Her dad touched her arm gently and nodded. “We need sleep. And tomorrow, we need to find out more about the hand.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Doolin’s Pub, Largheal, Ireland

  Inside Doolin’s, a former pub on the edge of town that now catered to the underage crowd, Bree spied Liam sitting at a table in the far corner with his hands wrapped around a glass. He waved Bree over. As she crossed the room, she took in everything: the long, carved wooden bar topped with huge jars of candy, the clusters of oak whiskey cask tables and stools, the concert posters covering the walls, and the Galway GAA sports memorabilia. Groups of teens huddled together at the tables, talking and drinking and dancing to the music coming from speakers above the bar.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?” Bree said as she pulled out a chair and sat. She leaned in closer so she could hear him better over the music.

  “I’m surprised your da didn’t mind you going out at this hour.”

  “I didn’t exactly tell him.”

  “Your text said it was important. What’s up?”

  “So…um…back there in the lab,” Bree said, “when we were talking about the hand and the whole Kelsi and the flashlight thing you…you seemed upset when I told you I almost bashed her head with the flashlight. Then you turned your back to me and sounded kind of angry when you said I wasn’t a murderer.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Bree nodded. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. And believe me, I tried. It was like someone turned on a motor in my head and revved it up to high.”

  “I didn’t mean it. It’s just that…” Liam sighed and cast his eyes around the room.

  Bree shifted in her seat, puzzled. “What?” she said. “What is it?”

  Liam hesitated and then slid his chair closer to hers. He fiddled with his straw before continuing. “I guess I’ll just say it and get it over with. When I was two my biological parents were murdered.” His voice broke on the final word.

  “Liam,” Bree said, unable to say more. She reached under the table and touched his knee; his leg was shaking like crazy.

  Liam stared off into the distance. “Some guy killed them trying to rob their jewelry store.” He swallowed hard and shuddered.

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  Liam crossed his arms and shifted so he faced her. “It’s okay. Just forget it.”

  “Forget it?”

  “It was a long time ago and it’s behind me. I barely remember them.” He broke eye contact with her as if he was ashamed, and so very sad, to admit it.

  “But you said you used to go fishing a lot with your dad.”

  Liam nodded. “There’s a bunch of pictures of us fishing and at my birthday parties and playing in the park but, like I said, I don’t remember any of it. I can’t even remember what my ma smelled like or my da’s voice. I wish I did.” He paused and took a deep breath. “My aunt and uncle and Finn are my family now. I just wanted you to know why I reacted like I did. I hope you didn’t think I was mad at you or anything.”

  “Liam,” Bree said, wanting to tell him so much. About her own loneliness and feelings of loss, and missing her mom and Troy.

  It never left her.

  She tried to smile, even though she was filled with sadness. “I didn’t think that, not for a second.”

  “Good because I wouldn’t want it to change anything between us.”

  “It doesn’t. We’re good. But are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  Liam shook his head. “I’m fine.” He pushed back his chair abruptly and stood. “It’s late and I’m beat, and you must be too. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

  “Wait. I want to talk to you about the hand.”

  Liam sat and Bree continued. “There are some links here that just don’t make sense. Everything’s not adding up. I need to figure out how the marks on the body, the monstrous hand, and the item from under the knee are all connected. My dad’s not really focused on the big picture. He’s just interested in his research and how my discoveries can help further it, but there’s more to it than that.”

  “Maybe you need to research some more, find some clues. I know a guy who might be able to help us. If he doesn’t have some answers, no one will. I’ll make plans for us to meet up with him tomorrow night.”

  “That’d be great.”

  They left Doolin’s and headed down the street. Liam laced his soft and gentle fingers through Bree’s. As warmth spread into her hand, she felt stronger and more beautiful.

  A few minutes later, they reached a narrow alley sandwiched between two shops. Bree heard a noise and peered into the dark space. A scrawny dog was scavenging for food in trash cans.

  But Bree couldn’t shake off the feeling that they might be in danger. It stuck with her just like it did when she was home alone at night and the house creaked.

  She looked all around. No one appeared to be following them. But that didn’t mean someone wasn’t there. Could it be that guy in the gray sweatshirt? Or the woman in the red jacket? Or the old man swinging the unopened umbrella?

  “What’s wrong?” Liam asked.

  “I think someone’s following us.”

  Liam scoured the area behind him. “I don’t see anyone suspicious.”

  “Neither do I. But the feeling’s so strong.”

  “There’s a cinema up ahead,” Liam said. “We can duck in there.”

  Picking up the pace, they made their way to the end of the block and stopped at the intersection to allow a car to pass. Bree saw a flash of green disappear into a store’s entranceway. “There. Did you see that?”

  “What?” Liam spun around.

  “Three stores down. Someone in green.”

  “No, but let’s move it just in case.
”

  The box office was dark, but they pushed their way into the lit lobby. From behind the concession counter, an elderly woman shot them a puzzled look and said, “Last film’s almost over. You should come back tomorrow.”

  “We’re good,” Liam said. “I just wanted to show her all the old posters.” He gestured to the wall but kept his eye on the door.

  The woman wiped down the counter with a rag.

  “You see anyone?” Liam asked Bree.

  She looked around. “No, you?”

  He shook his head. “No one’s gonna bother us in here. Let’s just wait till the movie lets out and head back to the hotel. The streets will be crowded and we’ll be fine.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Exhaling loudly, she stepped closer to the wall and checked the door again before focusing on the posters. Some were in black and white; others were in color. The posters were old, and she hadn’t seen most of the movies, but she was drawn to the illustrations.

  “My mom and I watched that movie dozens of times,” Bree said, pointing to a My Fair Lady poster. “We’d send my dad out for the day, and we’d drink tea out of black and white cups and sing along so loudly I’d get hoarse by the end of the movie. It was so much fun.” She paused, briefly overcome with grief. “I’d give anything to watch it again with her.”

  “I know what you mean,” Liam said. “What you and your ma had…it was something really special. Don’t ever forget that.”

  People spilled out of the movie theater and flooded the lobby—their excited voices echoed off the walls in the small space—and Bree welcomed the noise and the movement. “Let’s go,” she said. “We can get lost in the crowd.”

  Moving as fast as they could without separating from the others, Bree and Liam headed back to the hotel. Bree kept checking behind her expecting to see the person in green but didn’t. And what would she do anyway if she saw him? Run? Scream? Punch him in the face?

  The foot traffic decreased the closer they got to the hotel as people headed off in different directions. A car zipped down the street. Music blared from an open window above a dry cleaner. They reached the end of the block, crossed the intersection, and approached the hotel.

  The petite doorwoman smiled and said, “Good evening” as she heaved open the door for them.

  After Liam assured Bree he’d take a taxi instead of walking home, they said good night. Bree rode the elevator to the eighth floor, walked straight to her room, dug the key card out of her pocket, and opened the door. The elevator dinged down the hall and someone stepped off, but Bree didn’t dare look. Heart pounding, she rushed inside and closed the door quickly behind her. She tried to be quiet, but the knob slipped from her hand and the door slammed shut.

  Loud enough to wake her dad.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mashey Hotel, Largheal, Ireland

  Bree’s dad caught her with one arm still in her jacket.

  He stood with his eyebrows raised and his hands on his hips.

  Bree wanted to run into his arms so he could hold her tight, make her feel safe again like he did when she was little, but she couldn’t. If she told him how she felt, how scared she was, he’d never let her go out on her own again.

  “You snuck out” was his simple accusation. Without waiting for a rebuttal he added, “What in the world possessed you to do such a thing? It’s after midnight, and God knows who’s walking the streets at this hour. You could have been mugged or worse.”

  Bree’s hands trembled. She knew all too well that he was right. If someone had followed her and Liam it wasn’t for a good reason. And what if that person had decided to hurt her? What then?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” She pulled her arm out of the jacket and flung the jacket onto a chair.

  “By yourself, this late at night? Come on, Bree. You know better than that.”

  Just tell him, Bree said to herself. Just tell him you went to meet Liam. But she couldn’t. It would just lead to questions she didn’t want to answer. Instead she said, “Stop treating me like I’m a baby. If I’m old enough to drive then what’s the problem?”

  Her dad placed his hand on her shoulder, but Bree jerked away. With compassion in his voice, he said, “I’m sorry you’re upset, Bree. I am. But just like at home there are rules here. You may not like them, but they’re there for a reason.”

  “I need a life too, Dad.”

  “Look, I know you miss your friends, and you’re stuck with me most of the time. But, in comparison to all we’ve been through lately, I thought we were having a great summer. You learned a lot, you made an incredible discovery—maybe two—and you met Liam. Doesn’t that count for something?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Come on, Bree. I know you hear me.”

  Her dad looked down, smoothed his rumpled pajamas. “I don’t want to lose you too, Bree. You’re all I have left. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

  His sorrow stirred her own feelings, and Bree struggled to keep from crying. She turned her head away to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

  “All I’m asking is that you use some common sense about these things,” he said. “You’re going off to college soon and you’ll be on your own. If you’re out late at night, make sure someone’s with you. There are all kinds of crazy people in this world.” His voice quieted until he said nothing more.

  Sensing he was waiting for her to do or say something, Bree wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and faced him. He smiled softly and watched her as if considering her anew. After a long moment, he said, “I love you, Bree, more than you ever can imagine.” He reached out for her and drew her against him, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

  And she let him.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bree said against his chest. He smelled like soap and sweat and laundry detergent.

  “I know. Me too.”

  They stood together in silence for what felt like forever. In the cocoon of his protection it seemed like everything was right in her world again somehow, and that the pain she had tried so hard to bury couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  But from now on she’d have to be on the lookout. Even if someone wasn’t following her—and that was a big if—Kelsi was still out there, and who knew what danger she posed in her effort to protect the hand.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ireland Archeology Institute, Largheal, Ireland

  The lab buzzed with activity. Paleoethnobotanists and entomologists examined plants and insects collected near the bog body, soil specialists analyzed the peat samples Conor had collected, and a forensic odontologist checked the bog body’s remaining teeth for dental wear and disease. A radiologist skimmed through a magazine while waiting off to the side for the go ahead to transport the body down the hall to the diagnostics area, where x-rays and a CT scan would enable him to explore the inside of the bog body without damaging delicate tissues.

  Bree couldn’t wait to hear what all the experts found; and if she wasn’t working with her dad and Conor on the hand she had discovered at the second site, she’d be right in there with them. Turning away from the glass wall that separated her from the main lab, she examined the hair on the hand more closely. It looked nothing like the solid strand of color she’d seen under the site work lights. At the tip it was dark brown, but as it neared the skin it turned lighter, changing shades at least twice. To get a good representation, she inspected hairs near the thumb, the wrist, the index finger, and a half dozen other spots, jotting down her observations on the clipboard by her side.

  After a while, her dad spoke. “This hand really looks odd. And the measurements and the tissue samples don’t add up.” He massaged the back of his neck as if increased circulation there would help him think.

  “I think this hand might be the one that’s missing from the bog body,” Bree said.

  Her dad took a step back. “You’re kidding, right? It’s at least three times the siz
e of the other hand. You’re going to have to explain that leap.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” Bree said. She glanced at Liam—he’d heard her pronouncement from across the room and joined them—but Bree turned her attention back to her dad. “Take a look at the marks on the wrist. They’re similar to the ones on the bog body, only much larger. If the shapes match up, which I bet they do, then this could be the missing hand.”

  “It still doesn’t make any sense,” Liam said. “How do you explain the size difference?”

  “And how do you know it’s not a completely different hand severed in the same manner?” Conor added.

  “I don’t,” Bree said. “Not yet anyway. Help me analyze the marks on the hand. Dad, go take a look at the ones on the bog body.”

  “I’m still not getting where you’re going with this,” Liam said. “If the hand’s from the same body, how can it be so much larger than the other one? It would have to be the same size.”

  “Not if the hand was severed right before death,” Bree said. “The lycanthrope could have transformed back into human form before it died, which would explain the difference in size. The lycanthrope hand couldn’t transform once it was severed from the body.”

  “That’s assuming it’s from a lycanthrope,” her dad said.

  “But the theory fits—”

  “We need to study the DNA to be certain. But let’s take this one step at a time.” He and Conor left the room and entered the main lab. As they approached the body, the experts cleared the way.

  Bree watched them for a moment longer and then began measuring the marks on the hand. Liam took notes. When her dad returned, they compared their findings.

  “In extrapolating the data,” her dad said, “it seems like they’re a match.”

  “See?” Bree said. “I was right. And whatever killed this lycanthrope had to be strong. I bet there are more bodies or body parts out there.”

  “No more assumptions,” her dad said. “For definitive answers, we need to look at the DNA.”