by Jan McDonald
“That could also be a side effect of PTSD,” replied Beckett. “It could be the result of a hallucinogen. It’s way out of civilisation up here, there could be any number of things growing out there to cause this.” He turned to Jude, “I don’t believe you’ve taken anything deliberately?”
Jude was on his feet and slavering and snarling at Beckett, his hands curled into a parody of claws. “I don’t do drugs, if that’s what you mean. Now get out. Get out, both of you.” Suddenly he threw his head back and as rage and pain overwhelmed him he bent over clutching his stomach and screamed, although Beckett would remember it as a howl. As quickly as it had overtaken him, the spasm seemed to leave him and he pushed Lane violently to one side and ran out of the door. Beckett went to follow him, but Lane grabbed his arm and shook her head.
“This is his territory, Handsome. It won’t do any good chasing him over the hills. He’ll come back. He has to.”
Beckett looked puzzled. “Lycanthropy? I take it you mean the psychological disorder that leaves the victim believing that he has the ability to turn into a wolf and makes him behave accordingly?”
She shook her head. “No, Beckett. I mean that he actually does become wolf. I think we both know what I’m talking about.”
Beckett laughed aloud. “Jesus Lane, can you hear what you’re suggesting?”
“It’s not a suggestion, Handsome. If I’m not mistaken this is the real thing.”
“You can’t mean it. It’s not possible.”
“Oh really? May I remind you of what you …”
“No,” he snapped, “You don’t need to remind me of what I am. Thank you.”
“And how is that different? Isn’t it just another condition brought about by an irreversible change in DNA? A mutation? I’ll bet my house on it, Handsome, he’s Lycan.”
“Lycan? You mean he’s …”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “Jude Mason is a werewolf.”
CHAPTER TEN: SOMETHING WILD
“A werewolf. A man who turns into a wolf on the full moon and runs around on all fours, naked and hairy, ripping people apart. I’ve seen Lon Chaney Junior, and I have to say I have doubts about what you are saying here, Lane.”
She narrowed her eyes and reached into him. “I’ve seen Bela Lugosi, and Christopher Lee, but you know what, we don’t sleep in coffins filled with our native soil, we don’t burn up to dust in sunlight, and a crucifix won’t kill us. But we exist, Beckett. Don’t confuse fiction with fact, Handsome. You should know better.”
“So, a werewolf who doesn’t turn into a wolf? But you said he became wolf, what else could you mean by that?”
“I mean the essence of the wolf overrides the human in him and his DNA is radically changed. Maybe the full moon has an effect, maybe it doesn’t. In my reckoning the moon began its cycle of full last night and he was obviously out on the rampage then. Honestly? I have no idea about this, but I know someone who does.”
“Of course you do”, he said dryly. “No … I’m sorry. I know that the vampire condition is caused by the virus and who knows what else is possible. I didn’t mean to be arrogant; it’s just that it’s taken me ten years to comprehend what I have now become, what you are. Mihai, the Council, it’s huge. But I understand that. Talk to me. Mickey Mouse version.”
“No. Not yet. I need to understand more myself. I need to talk to the one guy who can help us to understand and maybe even help Jude. Let’s go.”
“Go? Just like that? Leaving him in that state, wandering around doing God knows what?”
“Do you have a better idea? He’s your patient Beckett, what would you do if he presented with any condition you didn’t have a handle on?”
“Research. Take advice.”
“So we’re agreed. Let’s go. We know where to find him. He hasn’t taken a human life yet, I would know it. We have time.”
“Lane, he threatened to kill himself.”
“He won’t. He would have done that instead of chaining himself up last night if he was really going to do it. Are you coming or not?”
He nodded at her and moved towards the door, glancing around him, taking it in.
They travelled thirty miles in silence when Lane suddenly said, “So are you going to acknowledge what happened to you back there?”
“Sorry?”
“The way you moved, Handsome. You accessed your vampire skills and speed. You were reading me until I closed you out, though it took an effort from me. It’s progressing, Beckett.”
He frowned at her. “I know. I feel it. I feel more alive than ever before, stronger, and more alert. It’s kinda scary.”
She laughed aloud at him. “You’ve been up against the most dangerous and savage of our kind and you find yourself scary. You’re priceless.”
He ignored her laughter. “Just supposing I go along with your werewolf theory, I’m not saying I don’t still believe its psychological, a side effect of PTSD, I mean the poor guy has been to hell and back in Afghanistan. Twice. Some of the things he saw and did are enough to send anyone round the bend.”
“Round the bend? Very professional label. I do know some of the things, Beckett. I was inside his head as far as I dare, but there’s something locked away behind a wall of pain that will need more time. Something that even he daren’t remember.”
“So, PTSD in fact.”
She sighed. “Have it your way for now. But I warn you, Handsome, there’s something wild in him. Something that will only be contained for a certain time. Who knows if the full moon will unlock it and who knows why it hasn’t appeared until now. Like I said, I know someone who understands these things better than I do.”
He studied her closely, trying to read her and she laughed at him as she closed him out.
Further discussion was interrupted by the instant cacophony of Lane’s pager demanding her attention and a second later her cell phone and Beckett’s simultaneously loudly announcing text messages. Beckett gave a ‘what the hell’ look as he grabbed his phone and Lane pulled the car over. She was seconds behind him in retrieving their messages. They had all originated from the same source – Helena Bancroft. And they all said the same thing. ’Come back. Now. Urgent. HB’
“Curiouser and curiouser said Alice,” murmured Beckett. “The good doctor seems a might agitated.”
Lane glanced down at the antique pocket watch which she wore on a chain around her neck. Beckett had commented on it when she had first worn it in his presence. It had been created by Thomas Harland for Catherine the Great in 1750 who had presented it to Lane as a Thank You. She had always refused to tell him what she had done to deserve her thanks and Beckett had decided that it was probably best if he didn’t know.
“Send her a text and tell her we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Beckett made a deliberate parody of tightening his seat belt before keying in the message.
“Do you think she’ll manage it? I mean, she was Greg Randall’s assistant.”
Lane nodded at him. “It’s my belief that she’s got what it takes. He kept her down because of his ego. She took the post with him when her own research grant ran out. Her speciality is actually genetics and I understand she’s quite brilliant.”
Beckett fell silent, contemplating just how much her brilliance would impact on him and hoping Lane hadn’t overstated it.
Several minutes later they pulled up outside the Sanctuary and Lane was swiping her entry card into the digital lock on the lab, both sensing the agitation coming from Helena.
“Thank God,” she exclaimed as they entered the room.
“Where’s the fire, Doc?” said Beckett in an effort to diffuse the anxiety in the atmosphere.
Helena ignored his effort. “It’s not a virus!”
“What do you mean?” demanded Lane.
“It isn’t a virus. It looks like a virus, it behaves like a virus but it isn’t a virus. And before you ask me what the hell it is, I have no idea. Yet. And Beckett, I need you over here, now.
I need blood.”
Beckett laughed harshly at the irony of her words. “So what’s the panic? It sounds as if we’ve taken a step backwards.”
Helena shook her head, “That’s not it. There’s something alarming happening to the blood samples. At first it seemed as though the vampire cells were causing damaged human cells to regenerate, but now … now it seems as though the vampire cells are actually killing off the human cells. Right now, I have no idea what that means. But …”
“But that’s not good, right Doc?” said Beckett.
Helena was already drawing blood from Beckett’s arm. “It seems to be a geometric progression. Honestly? I have no idea how fast this thing will take over every cell in your body, there is some reason why you’re different Beckett and it has to do with the anti bodies from Randall’s treatment. I’ll call you as soon as I have a better idea.”
Effectively dismissed, as Helena already had one eye glued to her microscope and was already oblivious to their presence, they left. Lane put a hand on Beckett’s arm. “It may not be as bad as she made it sound.”
He read her, and saw past the guilt she was harbouring as it had been Lane that had pumped the anti virus into him.
“Don’t feel like that,” he said. “You saved my life or my human life anyway. You did what you did for me, and I appreciate it.”
Lane relaxed as she acknowledged his intrusion into her mind. “I told you that when the time came you’d find it easy.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN: OUTSIDE HELP
Lane sat deep in thought then suddenly lifted the telephone and dialled. It rang at the other end for several minutes and she was about to replace the receiver when a familiar voice at the other end stopped her.
“Hello. Jo speaking.”
“Hello Jo, it’s Lane Dearing. It’s been a long time,” said Lane fondly.
“Lane. It’s good to hear you. It’s been close to ten years. Is this a catch up call or is this more serious?”
Jo Timberwolf was nothing if not to the point. His craggy features broke into a smile at the thought of Lane, sending a sparkle into the silver grey eyes that were reflected in his long silver hair perpetually tied casually in a long pony tail at the nape of his neck with leather thongs and turquoise beads. His tanned and leathery face was ageless and contained deep wisdom in every wrinkle. She felt as though she had known him forever, his voice was soft and reassuring and Lane couldn’t remember a time when she had heard him raise his voice in anger. He was a fifth generation shaman living and working on a Navajo reservation in Arizona, loved by his people and respected by the elders of his own tribe and those of neighbouring reservations.
“You got me, Jo. I’m ashamed to say I’m calling because I need you. I’ll cut right to it. I believe we have a Skinwalker.” She told him all she knew about Jude Mason and her thoughts on what was happening to him. “Dare I hope you can come and help?”
Jo was silent for a moment then he said quietly, “If you are asking me to help it is because the Ancient Ones have spoken. Of course I will help. I can be there tomorrow morning.”
Lane breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you Jo. I’ll have someone meet you and bring you here. Of course I’ll reimburse you for your journey.”
“No need Lane. When the Ancient Ones task me, I have no need for payment. Besides, I’m overdue a vacation.”
“With all due respect to the Ancient Ones, Jo, there will be a ticket waiting for you at the desk at Sky Harbour International in Phoenix and my friend Darius will meet you at Heathrow. I’m grateful.”
“So long, Lane. See you tomorrow.”
She put down the telephone more hopeful than before the call. If Jude Mason was indeed Lycan then Jo Timberwolf was the only hope she had of the situation not ending badly. She had witnessed him performing several of the Navajo ceremonies including those dealing with Skinwalkers. She knew that the term Skinwalker had originally referred to Navajo witches that had broken taboo, usually by killing a family member before performing The Witchery Way ceremony, creating evil and wreaking havoc. They were associated with wearing the pelts of animals whose form they wished to take. More recently however, mainly due to popular fiction and the movie screen, Skinwalker was a term given to werewolves, or people that could shape shift into any animal they chose. If there was anyone that would be able to free Jude Mason it was Jo Timberwolf.
She was more relaxed when Darius stuck his head around her door. “Got a minute?”
“You’re here late, come on in. Drink?”
Darius shook his head, “No thanks. I just wanted a talk that’s all.” He still wore the Gothic frock coat and high necked, frilled dress shirt with black jeans and high black boots. His shoulder length hair was wavy and reflected the shades of a raven’s wing in the lamplight. Not for the first time, Lane acknowledged that he was beautiful. But he was clearly uneasy.
She frowned, entering his head and understanding his concerns immediately. She gave no sign of her intrusion to him. “Sounds serious,” she said. “Maybe I need a drink.”
She moved casually to the sideboard and poured whisky into a crystal glass that had once adorned the table of Louis the fourteenth. She held up the matching decanter. “Sure? You look like you need one.”
Darius caved, he could never refuse Lane anything. “A small one then, thanks.”
Lane smiled and poured another glass. She handed it to him. “Darius, for God’s sake sit down. You’re making me nervous. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s me. I’m doing nothing useful. I decided to stay here and work with you and Beckett but I’m doing nothing of any importance. You know I want to be out there, at the sharp end, no pun intended. I’m …”
Lane interrupted him. “You’re valuable, that’s what you are. I know it seems as though you’re doing the job of a glorified messenger and general help but the truth is sweetheart, none of us is at the sharp end as you put it, not at the moment, though that’s about to change. And pardon me for mentioning it, but I recall that if it wasn’t for you we’d be short one Beckett right now.”
Darius flushed, he knew Lane would have answers that would make him feel foolish without intending to.
“I just need to be out there, hunting them down and getting rid.”
Lane narrowed her eyes as she sipped the old whisky. “Sounds to me like you’re still angry, Darius. You wanted to be the one to put an end to Andrei and that opportunity presented itself to someone else. You can kill a thousand rogue vampires and you’ll still feel the same. You need to get over it if you are ever going to be detached enough to do the job without putting everyone else in jeopardy.”
He hadn’t expected her to turn his need into something that sounded selfish and yet at the core of her words he recognised a truth. He sighed.
“I didn’t mean to diminish what you did in Greece or subsequently, but you have major work to do in future. I know it. It just isn’t that time yet,” said Lane, her voice brimming with admiration and compassion.
“You just said that things were about to change, what do you know?”
“I had a call from Mihai. He said we might be needed soon, he was getting more information.” She was careful not to mention Greece in his already frustrated mood. “And we have someone close to home in deep trouble.”
“Oh. Who?”
“A patient of Beckett’s. Name’s Jude Mason and in the next few days he will live or die depending on the result of a visit from an old friend of mine, Joseph Timberwolf.” She continued to explain the situation. “He’s arriving tomorrow from Arizona and I want you go and meet him and bring him to the Sanctuary. Take great care of him, he’s very special.”
Darius nodded. “Consider it done. I hadn’t expected us to branch out into werewolves I have to admit.”
“Well, he’s Beckett’s patient. And if he’s not helped or at least controlled who knows what may happen. We’ve still to get to the bottom of how he came to be infected.
The word ‘infected’ trigg
ered his thought process and he said, “Maybe Dr Bancroft can help?”
“Yes, I’d thought of that but first of all his problem needs a more spiritual approach. Helena can take a look at him after Jo’s done his stuff. I don’t know where this may lead Darius, but I should warn you it could get ugly.”
“Is there any truth in the myths? You know, silver bullets? Full moon etcetera.”
“I think that silver may have an effect on him. Just like us. As for the full moon, Jo will be able to fill us in on the details of the condition. I do know that he doesn’t change body shape and run around on all fours. At least I don’t believe so. His facial hair and fingernails are subject to accelerated growth and his mouth and teeth undergo significant changes. He becomes a beast in every other sense of the word. Savage and hungry. At the moment he hasn’t taken a human life but if it isn’t dealt with, it will only be a matter of time.”
“Then you can count on me. Thanks, Lane. For listening.”
She smiled fondly at him. “My pleasure. Always. By the way, do you know where Beckett went? I didn’t see or feel him leave but he’s definitely not around. I could do with talking to him.”
Darius shook his head. “Can’t say. Though Angel did say she saw him leave and said cheerio but he didn’t answer her, she said he seemed preoccupied.”
Lane frowned. The last thing they needed right then was for Beckett to be off his game. Or worse.
CHAPTER TWELVE: LYCAN
Lane was concerned for Beckett. He was fragile and soon he would need to feed. It was against her ethics but she felt deep within her bones that she needed to find him. Overlooking a close friend was repugnant to her but needs must. More than her needing to find Beckett she sensed it was he that needed to find himself.
She closed her eyes and shut down her conscious mind, reaching out across the ether, searching.
Five miles away in the centre of Abergavenny she found him. His surroundings were steeped in sacred energy and Beckett was deep in a meditative state. She smiled. Beckett had gone to church.
