Wolf Trap

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  “Was this doctor, Parker, trying to help you by bringing you here?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes.” As though a dark cloud had lifted, her avenging angel’s beautiful face filled her memory, replacing the other, darker thing, bringing back a longing for him that was so strong, it produced a noticeable moistness between her legs. With Parker Madison’s scent in her lungs, she awaited the doctor’s next question.

  “All right, Chloe. We can try this again later. You’re tired.”

  Yet another pause from the doctor. More ticking sounds.

  “I’m going to count from three to one,” Dr. James eventually said. “When I get to the number one you will wake up. Are you ready, Chloe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Three…”

  The ticking started to fade, as if it were attached to a dimmer switch.

  “Two…”

  Chloe felt herself sinking downward, and feared she was going in the wrong direction.

  “One.”

  The betraying body parts began their polka of twitching and shaking all over again before the word one had stopped resonating inside Chloe’s head. Her shout of defiance, loud and pathetically shrill, escaped from between her teeth without any conscious help from thought processes.

  “He will be back! He promised!”

  They ran side by side, Parker and the brown werewolf, their strides equal, covering ground as if they had been created to be running machines.

  Parker didn’t stop to consider why he had followed this beast. The echo of the gun’s retort drew them forward, the sound hanging in the air like a loud shout, easy for his inner navigation system to lock on to.

  East. Trouble to the east.

  His blood pumped through his veins. He felt excited, wild, wary, different in an altogether new way. He decided that looking too closely at the creature running alongside him probably wouldn’t be a good thing. Parker’s own beast had taken over this chase, instinct fueling the fires that drove him on. Obviously, somebody else’s beast had done the same thing.

  Bodies in sync, he and the other wolf passed through the shadows of overarching trees, scarcely sucking air. Quickly, they covered acres of grass, until they neared the stone wall that now seemed to Parker like a magnet for adversity. Sure enough, the trouble was there.

  He felt so stunned when he saw what had transpired in this place that he stopped, backpedaled and howled with his head thrown back. The brown wolf rammed him hard to direct his focus. He circled Parker, growling, then repeated Parker’s hollow cry.

  Two bodies lay on the ground beside the wall. Human bodies. Buck naked. Faceup. Each of them shot once through the heart. Bull’s-eye.

  Parker gaped. What kind of monster would do a thing like this?

  The brown wolf yowled again, this time with a baying sound that tore right through Parker like a sonic boom. He’d heard that before, near a wounded body. The last time, he had been approaching a wounded female, and the howl had come from the mouth of a pale, half-morphed Were.

  Even more disturbing to Parker, the brown werewolf’s baying was echoed by a replacement, originating on the other side of the stone wall beside them.

  Parker felt otherness coming on—that sensation he was unable to pinpoint, and dreaded as much as he wanted it. Chills arrived, cooling his overheated skin to lukewarm. He turned his head warily, watched as another beast appeared atop that cursed wall. A beast who leaped nimbly to the ground not three feet away.

  It was another large brute—larger that himself and the brown, very obviously male, with a rust-colored, furred back.

  The world turned upside down. Parker felt himself tilt, and shuffled back a pace as a second new werewolf jumped down off that wall on the heels of the first. This one was even more impressive, frighteningly so. Thick silver streaks, glistening like sterling in the moonlight, ran through a black pelt as fine as ermine. This huge creature beat out the rust-colored wolf in size, and was older; Parker knew it intuitively. The Were radiated grace and attitude, and his very presence reeked of danger.

  Parker fell to a crouch, teeth again bared, not quite sure how to handle this situation, refusing to believe his eyes. He spun around, more chills raising the hair on his neck as a third wolf landed next to him, with a pelt almost as dark as the last one, minus the streaks. Though smaller, this wolf was wiry, lithe and not one iota less impressive than the rest.

  Whipping his head to take them all in, Parker caught a whiff of fragrance rising above the other smells vying for his attention in a this-can’t-be-happening sort of way. The smell emanated from the closest werewolf, the smaller one. Musk, damp fur, and…gardenias. An all-too-familiar concoction.

  Where had he smelled those things before?

  Apprehension gripped him tightly. Parker let loose a baying shout that severed the night as completely as lightning when the answer to his own query came. A ridiculous answer. Totally unfeasible. Yet he was suddenly sure he was right.

  The small beast next to him was one of Miami’s finest. None other than the dark-haired female cop he had spoken with over coffee at the hospital. Detective Wilson’s ally in the department. The bite-savvy cop who had asked probing questions about Jane Doe’s wound.

  His mouth gaping, Parker fixed his eyes on her in disbelief. This was Officer Delmonico. Dana Delmonico.

  Was he mad to think so?

  Showing very sharp white teeth that real wolves used for tearing flesh and God knew what else, and aware of his scrutiny, the she-wolf growled back, as if to warn him to stick to the situation at hand. The others, four not counting himself, were nosing around the dead bodies, their great shapes livid with anger. Not one could say anything or voice his distress, because none of them could speak. Yet they were formidable, drenched in moonlight as they were. Their eyes all flashed with the same glint of gold, as if that color somehow connected them.

  Tonight, the moon directed the game. The game that wasn’t a game anymore—a fact that had become all too clear.

  Parker didn’t have to worry about being an anomaly. What he did have to worry about were those two bodies on the ground, and not ending up like them. Violence had been done near this wall twice. It occurred to Parker that someone else knew about this barrier and about the genetically altered people behind it, and didn’t take to the idea. The girl might have been a mistake, but two dead souls in the same area made this look a little like target practice.

  Sharpshooting target practice, by the look of those perfect holes in the victims’ chests. Holes in skin tinted by the blue cast of death. With a shot to the heart, these guys would have died instantly.

  The wolves were offering up a series of whines. They probably knew these people, these two men who’d just happened to be out here, naked, near the Landau property. Two werewolves, reverted to their human shape in death?

  Had the killers used silver bullets, like in the horror novels, to keep them down?

  Was the Landau estate a vortex for the supernatural?

  The others seemed to be waiting for the silver Were to act. Leader of the pack, then? Easy guess. The call the silver creature made next hit Parker square in the forehead with the force of a slap, instantaneously translating into a single word: hunt.

  A chorus of howls went up from the gathered group. All the creatures surrounding Parker sprang into action at once, of one mind, moving as a pack of predators away from the scene of the crime and into the moonlit night. A dangerous, churning sea of muscle and madness that swept Parker along.

  Chapter 14

  The odor of their prey floated in the heavy humid air like summer heat shimmering off asphalt. At least two humans ran ahead, Parker knew, and they would have the guns that had brought the two werewolves down. Still, whether they were armed or not, it would take more than human legs to keep those killers distanced from an angry pack on the move.

  Parker clung hard to his humanity as he ran, needing to maintain the subtle hints of himself peeking out from inside his altered outline. Losing himse
lf completely seemed only a breath away. Madness felt closer than that.

  He had to drag his attention back to his she-wolf to keep everything from blurring into the beast’s excitement—the woman he’d kissed, then dropped off. If he let go of himself completely here, tonight, what would happen to her?

  Wildness filled his lungs. Humidity dampened his fur. The moon hung like a flare above the trees, and the park had grown quiet beyond the unique murmurings of the many morphed, fur-covered limbs doing what they were designed to do—a sound comparable to the rustle of wind in the treetops.

  The effects on Parker of running with this pack were substantial. The farther he went, the more feral he felt, the more the night suited him, the more he wanted to leave the old Parker and his reasoning behind. This group had not questioned his being among them. The brown wolf had led him to the wall, invited him along, and now ran at the black-and-silver-pelted wolf’s side.

  Did all werewolves stick together? Find each other eventually? Maintain their own secret cult? These wolves had all come from behind Judge Landau’s secluded gates. Certainly a piece of the puzzle of Parker’s own existence had been found.

  She wouldn’t have to worry now, he told himself. These other Weres were sure to know more about their species and would fill in the blanks. A cop ran with them, just as fierce as the rest. A female cop. Perhaps her presence made these Weres good guys by association. His she-wolf wouldn’t be the only one of her sex, that was for sure. His Jane Doe wouldn’t have to grope for enlightenment if Delmonico knew the ropes.

  The trees thinned on the eastern side of the park’s acreage. Buildings appeared in the distance, rising above streets teeming with civilization. If the killer reached those streets, this hairy group would be out of luck.

  It was a conclusion they obviously had all come to simultaneously, since their speed kicked up.

  Parker’s vision sharpened. Navigating through the dark at a full run was easy. Believing this to be real was the hard part.

  And then Parker saw them. Two men, ahead.

  What would happen now that his pack was closing in? What would his fellow wolves do in retaliation for the slaying of their kind, possibly their friends?

  The thought fled Parker’s mind when the silver-streaked wolf in the lead gave a sudden, bone-chilling command.

  “Chloe?”

  Again voices came from far off. From another planet, maybe. Chloe’s body was thrashing too hard, too violently, for her to pay attention. Trauma vibrated through her as one of her arms hit the wall, followed by her shoulder. She cried out in surprise over the return of a dagger-sharp pain.

  Her broken wrist burned. The room was so white, and seamless. If this was a hospital, where were the people who had been hired to help?

  “Chloe, we’d like to restrain you,” the voice announced calmly, sounding closer now than Mars. “I’d like your permission because it won’t feel very nice. It might even seem scary.”

  Yes. Do it. Do it, for God’s sake, before I kill myself!

  “Can you look at me, Chloe? I need to see that you understand.”

  A face swam into view. Recognition hit as Chloe waded through round fifty of the shakes. This was the female doctor. Dr. James.

  “Yes, that’s it,” she said with audible relief when Chloe faced her. “I’m sorry, Chloe. The sedation works for only fifteen minutes at most on you. You’ve had three injections already. I hesitate to give you more.”

  Chloe found herself standing on trembling legs. Well, almost standing. She leaned on the wall, with her head against it. The surface was padded and smelled like Lysol-coated vinyl. The white room was tiny, and the lights had been dimmed, probably in deference to her sensitive eyes.

  Across the space stood the auburn-haired doctor, alone now. Dragging her gaze over the woman’s face, Chloe saw worry etched there. Patients never wanted to see expressions like that cross their doctor’s face, she thought numbly.

  Why was she looking at Chloe in that way?

  In a low tone, Dr. James said, “I think the wound on your arm is infected.”

  “Great. That’s what’s wrong with me?” Talking was hard. Thinking was harder. Chloe didn’t know how she had gotten that much out past her chattering teeth.

  “You’ll need other medical help,” the doctor added soberly. “Antibiotics. Possibly more stitches. I can help with some of that if you can stay still. I’m not sure whether your head injury is causing the seizures, along with the possible hallucinations you’re experiencing, or if it’s something else altogether. I have to be sure before treating you further, and before calling someone else in.”

  The doctor’s voice lowered again. “Do you have family here, Chloe? Someone I can call? Would you like to be transferred to a facility better suited to help?”

  “No.” To all of those. The only person she had trusted had deposited her at this place, wherever the hell it was. Had it been for her own good? Her dark angel must have had a reason.

  “What is this place?” she asked, afraid of the answer, her body tipping toward the wall as her knees weakened drastically.

  “Fairview is a psychiatric hospital,” Dr. James replied.

  “What?” The question reverberated in Chloe’s throat.

  “And your story is that another doctor brought you here.”

  “Yes. I—” Chloe gave up what she had been about to say. She was trusting a man who thought himself a werewolf.

  “A doctor who didn’t check you in or leave a prescription. No paperwork. You do see why I’m puzzled?” Dr. James said. “We found you on the porch, under a blanket.”

  “He said…” What had he said? That they couldn’t allow a drop of moonlight to touch her. That she would hate what was happening to her at first. Did this make sense? Would Dr. James lock the door and toss away the key if she were to repeat those things?

  “I can’t legally keep you here longer than twenty-four hours, and then only on your own reconnaissance,” the doctor explained. “I’m taping this conversation to make sure we have that approval on record.”

  Chloe had to work harder than ever to keep from throwing herself across the room. The terrible energy gathering inside her made her want to ping off the padded walls, race through the hallways and get outside, into the open air. The only explanation for this behavior had to be that her head injury caused an affliction similar to Tourette’s syndrome.

  Maybe Parker had known she would have this reaction. Maybe that’s why he’d left her here. Didn’t his hospital now induce artificial comas to protect patients from suffering through hardships like hers?

  The pain in her head got sharper each time she thought of Parker Madison and his sickness-free bio. A perfect record of perfect health for a perfect doctor. Perfect. But what gave doctors a get-out-of-jail-free card against illness, when hospital personnel were exposed to every known virus in the city on a daily basis?

  Only a handful of people in the public domain could actually brag about their clean health records and immunity to bugs. These few were termed Super People in her research.

  Her research. Yes, she remembered that now, too. She’d been studying the Super People phenomenon at the cellular level, looking for reasons why some people got sick while others didn’t. Her job at the university was to seek answers for this phenomenon in test tubes, blood and DNA samples. She’d had to dig real deep, crack open at least a hundred computer systems, to come up with the handful of extraordinary subjects she’d found.

  That’s how the whole ordeal had started. She had been looking through police files for the possibility of coming up with a supercop, she remembered as she bounced off the wall for the tenth time before falling to her knees in front of Dr. James. But she was excited to remember those things.

  Instead of a supercop, what she had found was something stranger. A malfunctioning set of cells unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Those cells belonged to a female cop. Officer Dana Delmonico.

  Curious about Delmonico, she
had followed the cop to a meeting with Dylan Landau. She had watched them both disappear behind the gates in the stone walls, beyond the park—the ones she now knew to be owned by a Landau. She’d been positive there had to be more than a romantic link between Officer Delmonico and Dylan Landau. Links were how research worked, one thing leading to another. If Landau turned out to have a similar cell pattern to Delmonico’s, the next logical step would have been to check out his father and mother, her parents, and so on.

  And in tracking down those links, Chloe had ended up beaten there, by Landau’s wall. Her last thought before being struck down had been to wonder what might happen if whatever swam in Delmonico’s bloodstream were to contaminate those miraculous Landau genes—the ones determining the high cheekbones, chiseled physiques, intelligence and all that thick blond hair.

  If she could find a pattern, determine what it meant, and if it turned out to be a contagion…and if she could work up an antidote to reverse those effects…she’d have bagged a Nobel Prize.

  Trembling out of control, she clung to Dr. James’s white coat as the woman knelt beside her. Maybe, Chloe thought as the doctor took a firm grip on her shoulders, Parker had brought her here because he had once been a resident at Fairview himself—to get treatment for those werewolf hallucinations.

  “Sorry, Doc.”

  Assuming the apology was meant for her, Dr. James nodded.

  And just maybe, Chloe thought, her mind as tormented by thoughts as her body was with the tremors, she could look that up. Parker and Fairview. If she could manage to get to a computer and check Fairview’s files, that was.