by Mac Flynn
"And what proof do you propose to show that this human's mind has been erased?" Smith asked us.
Mark and I glanced at each other, and I could see the deer-in-headlights look in his eyes that I felt in mine. "I'm afraid we haven't quite figured that part out," Mark admitted.
Smith rolled his eyes. "Very well, I will also handle such proof, but you two must distract the werewolf security. They will only hamper my efforts," he commanded us.
"How are we supposed to do that?" I questioned him.
"We will do our best," Mark interrupted the response. "How much time do you need?"
"Where is this human held?"
"Probably at the top office rooms near Morgan's office," Mark told him.
"Then ten minutes will do," he replied.
"What if he isn't in Morgan's office? How are you going to find him?" I asked Smith.
Smith's lips curled back in a wide grin that showed off his sharp teeth. "The same way I knew you were a new werewolf," he commented.
I clapped my hands together and secretly giggled when the two men jumped. "Well, it kind of looks like we have a plan. When do we start?" I piped up.
Chapter 16
At that moment there came a rap on the door. "Mark?" Mrs. Fuller called from the other side.
"Come in, Mother," he replied.
Mrs. Fuller stepped into the room and, seeing the dark-clothed guest, quickly shut the door behind her. She bowed her head to Smith. "Good morning," she greeted him.
He bowed his head in return. "Good morning," was his stiff reply. The words were cordial, but the tones were strained.
Mrs. Fuller walked over to Mark. "Morgan's men were here earlier wishing to speak with you," she informed him.
"Did they say about what?" he asked her.
"No, but they wished also to see Danica," she added.
"And you disappointed them?" Mark guessed.
Her impish grin slipped onto her face. "Yes, and nearly had to throw them out. They were very persistent in trying to wait in the parlor for your return, and even went so far as to sit in there. I ordered a bouquet of wolf's bane to be placed as a centerpiece on the table and they were very quick to leave," his mom told us.
Mark smiled and gave him mom a quick hug. "What would I do without you?" he wondered.
She laughed and pushed him away. "No doubt get yourself into worse trouble, but this time I'm not so sure you can get into worse trouble," she commented as her eyes fell on Smith. "However did they convince you to come out in the daylight, Mr. Smith?" she asked him.
"Morgan," was his reply.
The corners of Mrs. Fuller's lips turned down. "I see. Don't allow revenge to hamper your ability to help my son," she commanded him. Smith bowed his head, but said nothing.
I glanced back and forth between the Fullers and Smith. I was missing something, some tantalizing back-story no doubt filled with intrigue, drama, and possibly murder. Then my stomach ruined the mood by growling like a hungry timber wolf. All eyes fell on me and I tried to shrink inside my fur coat.
"Sorry," I squeaked.
"No apology necessary. I'm sure the stress of enlisting Mr. Smith's help has made you quite hungry," Mrs. Fuller commented. "I expected that, and have prepared an early lunch."
"A moment, Mother. Did Morgan's men say if they would return?" Mark asked her.
"No, but from their general threats I would guess Morgan expects you no later than tonight," she replied.
"That will work fine for our plans. Now we need only wait for nightfall," Mark mused.
It was a long wait. Our undead friend sat in the library as quiet as a church-mouse, minus the ability to actually attend church, and Mark and I amused ourselves with food, idle chatter, and watching the hands on every clock face tick away the hours. We did have one interesting conversation concerning the pale Smith.
"So what's the story about Smith and Morgan?" I asked Mark when we were alone in our room snuggling. He liked the closeness of our bodies and I liked the feel of his body heat against me. Damn coldness without my fur.
"Morgan's father was an acquaintance of my father long before we were born. They-they were not fond of each other," Mark explained.
"Uh-huh, but how does a vampire come into the mix?" I wondered.
"About twenty years ago the elder Morgan, suspecting my father was keeping secrets from the Foundation, followed him to Smith's keep. He later confronted my father about Smith and threatened to tell the whole Foundation if my father didn't relinquish his control and refrain from interfering with Morgan's plans to rule the Foundation."
"So blackmail?" I guessed.
"Exactly. My father refused saying he had no proof. Morgan warned him he would capture his proof, and stormed from the house. My father guessed what Morgan intended and hurried to Smith's home. There he found Morgan and a few of his men removing Smith's coffin from the shed. When they saw my father they dropped the coffin, breaking the bottom. You noticed how Smith limped?" I nodded. "The sun bunrt his foot and the wound has yet to heal. Smith awoke and clawed hs way back into the shed while my father dealth with Morgan's men. Morgan himself followed Smith into the shed with a stake and was about to destroy him when my father, finished with killing Morgan's men, came up behind Morgan and killed him as he had the others, by knocking off his head."
I cringed. "That's a little nasty," I commented.
"Yes, but necessary. He couldn't risk a prolonged fight with any of them because he would have left more of his scent than he could wash off," Mark pointed out.
"So your dad killed Morgan's dad because he tried to use Smith to bring your dad down?" I summarized.
"Yes. When night fell Smith helped my father dispose of the bodies in the river to wash off the scents and they left Morgan's car nearby. When my mother learned to what risk my father had gone to protect Smith she blamed Smith for bringing the trouble, and I believe she still does hate him for being such a risk to our family," Mark finished.
"Wow, talk about a complicated web," I commented. "So Morgan hates us because he thinks your dad killed his dad?"
Mark snorted. "I don't believe Morgan ever had affection for his father. He dispises us because even though he is the leader our family still has more weight in the Foundation."
"Like father, like son,"I muttered.
"Yes, the apple doesn't drop far from the tree," Mark agreed.
"Like two peas in a pod."
Mark smiled. "How long can you manage this?" he wondered.
"Um, I'm kind of out of sayings," I admitted.
"Good, because we have work to do." As Mark finished his words he pointed at the window. The sun was low in the sky and warned us night was just a half hour away. Mark led me to the library and we opened it to find Smith just on the other side. "Ready?" Mark asked him.
"Yes," Smith replied.
"I'm not. I don't exactly know what the plan is or how I come in," I spoke up.
"Morgan is expecting us, but he doesn't know at what hour. We must hope that your friend is being kept in a room by himself in which Smith can enter and perform the mind-trick," Mark explained. "We will distract Morgan ourselves by speaking with him, and Roger will provide a distraction for the security which will hopefully help Smith through the building, and cut short our unpleasant conversation with Morgan."
"Roger? What's he going to do?" I wondered.
Mark grinned. "You'll see, but let's hurry. We mustn't keep Morgan waiting."
Chapter 17
We stepped outside the house just after sunset and found Roger waiting not in his taxi but in a black sedan with license plates that were difficult to see in the dark. Roger wore a matching dark suit with a cap that obscured most of his face.
I stepped near the vehicle, took a whiff of something strong, and wrinkled my nose. "What is that smell?" I asked Mark. I glanced over to him and noticed he had his nose covered by his shirt.
"Wolf's bane. The trunk is full of it," came his muffled reply. "Roger is to get it inside th
e building and spread its chaos smell on every floor."
"How's he going to sneak that much into the building?" I pointed out.
"By elevator, but let's hurry. I can't stand the smell for long," Mark told me. He turned to Smith. "You should transform before we arrive. There are cameras everywhere in the building, including in the garage."
"He can hide in my coat again. That should get him pretty far into the building," I suggested.
Mark looked to me with admiration. "A brilliant idea. If you would oblige, Mr. Smith," he requested of the vampire.
Smith transformed into his batty self and I opened my coat to let him swoop inside to hang at his usual pocket. We piled into the sedan and Roger drove us downtown to the Foundation building. It loomed over us as we drove into the all-too-familiar underground garage. There were only a few random cars since everyone had gone home after a long day of managing werewolf affairs. I expected us to park near the stairwell, but Roger quickly drove us to the far side of the garage behind one of the supporting pillars.
"Wanting some exercise?" I wondered.
"This parking spot is a blind spot for the cameras," Mark explained to me. "That way when Roger performs his part he won't easily be spotted hauling the goods into the building."
Mark helped me out of the car and Smith uneasily shifted beneath the coat. "Watch it, bub," I hissed at him.
"Not yet, Smith. I'll tell you when it's safe," Mark whispered to him.
We strode over to the stairwell and were greeted by two rough-looking men with black glasses and sneers. Judging by their red noses I'd say they'd had a run-in with some nasty-smelling wolf's bane. "Master Morgan wants to speak with you," one of them snarled.
Mark smiled at them. "Very well, lead the way," he replied.
The two men flanked us, one in back and the other in front, and led us up the stairs to the lobby with Mark by my side. The lobby was as empty as the parking garage, and our feet echoed on linoleum floor. They guided us to the elevators at the rear of the lobby, and I suspected it would be a non-stop journey to the top floor. Mark suspected the same as I saw his eyes flit around the lobby. His gaze fell on some palm trees that stood near the elevators, and he glanced at me and my coat for a moment before staring straight ahead again. Grand, I needed to ditch the bat into the palms without the thugs noticing me. I decided against that, and for the more dramatic approach.
"Wow, this place is huge!" I blurted out. I strode past Mark and our lead goon and toward the elevators and the palms. My face was tilted up at the high ceiling above us, but my eyes flitted over to the palms.
"Hey, get back here!" the lead goon yelled.
I ignored him and walked closer and closer to the palms, seemingly unaware of the oncoming collision. "What's the electricity bill on this place? Do we have to pay dues? Why is the sky-"
That's when I walked into the palm. I wrapped my arms around the plant and screamed like it was assaulting me. Unbeknownst to the goons I was dancing an intricate step with the plant making sure I pressed it close to myself without tipping over it or its large pot. "Get in the palm," I whispered to Smith. The bat quickly slunk out of my coat and into the bushy leaves of the green plant.
Not a moment too soon because one of the men in black grabbed the back of my coat collar and yanked me off the plant. He held me so we were nearly face to ugly face, and I sheepishly grinned at him. "He he, guess you saved me," I giggled.
The werewolf guard tossed me over to Mark who caught me in his arms. I winked at him and he smiled. "You must forgive her. She isn't used to her werewolf eyes," Mark told our guards.
The guards sneered and herded us into the elevator. We were right about it being non-stop because the elevator climbed straight to the top floor and dinged our arrival. We were led out, down the long hall devoid of workers at this late hour, and into Morgan's dimly lit office. I was glad to see Johnny wasn't there waiting as bait for us. That meant Smith might have a chance alone with him to erase his mind.
The chair on the other side of the desk swiveled around to reveal Morgan. He had a smile on his face, but the edges were strained. "Good to see you again, my friends. I thought you were never coming," he commented.
"We had some research and visiting to do before coming here," Mark told him. Mark led me over to the chairs in front of the desk and we took our seats.
"Yes, my men told me you were out, but that your mother was a very thorough hostess," he quipped.
"Yes, she knows how to handle 'guests,' but we haven't come to discuss visits. Do you still insist on taking my mate from me?" Mark asked Morgan.
Morgan leaned back in his chair and glanced between us. "Unless you can tell me why I should not then for the good of the Foundation I must. My hands are tied."
"The Foundation rules state that any human invited to the 'party' and changed into a werewolf is not considered a ronin, but is now a member of the family of the person who bit her," Mark revealed.
Morgan chuckled. "Yes, I know that rule, but you could hardly say she was invited for the purpose of turning her," he pointed out.
"Perhaps not, but hse was invited, and I have accepted her into my family as my mate," Mark argued. "If you insist on pressing the point then I will request a full gathering of the Foundation to have their opinion on the matter."
"I'm sure things don't need ot escalate to such an extreme action," Morgan countered. He leaned over the desk and clasped his hands together. His eyes glowed softly in the dim light of the office. "After all, I'm sure she wouldn't want anything to happen to her human friend." I instincitvely pulled back my lips and snarled at him, but he chuckled. "Is that any way to thank me for keeping him safe? After all, his knowing about the Foundation means he must either be changed or killed."
"He wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't tried to use him," I shot back.
"You had run away from your new family. What was I to do but assume you would run into the arms of a friend from your former life?" Morgan wondered.
I opened my mouth, but Mark put a heavy hand on my shoulder. "None of this is getting us anywhere. Do you still insist on keeping her friend hostage?" he asked Morgan.
Morgan smiled and shrugged. "Unless you can erase his mind then I don't see as I have any choice."
As though on cue the dim lights completely shut off. There only remained small, flashing red lights above the door. Morgan jumped to his feet and whipped his head over to the two goons. "What the hell is going on?" he asked them.
"It's the security system. Somebody's put the building into lockdown from the control room," one of the guys replied.
"Then go see who it is!" Morgan ordered them. They sped out of the room.
Mark pulled me out of my chair. "You seem to be busy, so we'll let ourselves out," he told Morgan.
Morgan's glowing eyes turned to us and narrowed. "You did this. What are you-" His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He was frozen for only a second before he opened a top drawer in his desk, scooped out a walkie-talkie and pressed it against his face. "Get to the human's cell right-" Morgan pulled his face away as he heard cries of pain. "What the hell is going on?" Morgan screamed into the set.
"Wolf's bane-cough-in the-cough-main elevators!" a voice choked out.
Morgan growled and threw down the walkie-talkie. He turned to us and Mark pulled me behind him. "You're trying to steal the human away, but that won't work. Everyone will know he's a risk to us and can't be allowed to live. I might not have your mate, but I'll get some of my revenge for your killing my father by killing her friend," he snarled.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mark argued.
Morgan grinned. "My father wasn't a fool. He left a letter detailing your father's dealings with that vampire." Morgan tapped his desk to indicate the location of the letter.
"You've been driven mad by your greed and lust for power. We have nothing more to say to you and are leaving before we get caught up in your madness and these intruders," Mark replied. He pulled m
e toward the door, but Morgan rushed around his desk and blocked our way to the door.
Morgan hunkered down and snarled at us as his clothes began to split open. Fur sprouted from his arms and hands, and his teeth sharpened to points. "You're not leaving until I told you you can leave," Morgan growled.
Mark pushed me to the side as Morgan jumped him. My mate fell back onto the ground, grabbed Morgan's outstretched claws, and shoved his foot into Morgan's stomach. Mark rocked Morgan over himself and pushed him off with his foot. Morgan flew over his desk and crash-landed into his chair. Mark stood, grabbed my hand, and we raced into the hall. He led us past the empty desks and at the elevators I smelled the distinct, strong scent of wolf's bane waft from the shafts.
Mark turned left and pushed through a door that led to a stairwell. I looked back before the door closed behind us and glimpsed Morgan race around the corner. He was mostly transformed by now with shreds of clothing on his body and his form covered in thick bunches of fur. The corner was too sharp for his speed and he slammed into the elevator doors.
"Must go faster! Must go faster!" I yelled at Mark.
Mark pulled me into his arms and jumped onto the railing. I glanced down and saw the dozens of flights of stairs staring back at me. "Hold on!" Mark told me.
I clutched his shirt and glared up into his face. "Don't you-" Mark jumped.
We fell a dozen floors before Mark grabbed onto a railing. We stopped, but only for a moment before he let go again. I clung to him and glanced up at the retreating floors. Morgan's furry face appeared on the top flight and he roared in anger as he watched us, his prey, falling down the stairwell. He followed, but in his anger he had a lot less skill. Morgan bounced against railings and steps, and we made better speed as Mark dropped us a dozen floors at a time.
After an eternity we finally reached the bottom floor which lay in the parking garage. Mark rushed us out the door and Roger in his black sedan lay in wait only a few parking spots away. We hurried to the vehicle just as we heard a loud pound as something hit the ground inside the stairwell. The door flew off its hinges, but Roger opened the rear door to the car and we dove inside. He didn't wait for us to buckle up as he stepped on the gas and careened toward the exit.
