by Sarah Noffke
“It’s slow. The samples I’ve taken from the alien haven’t been receptive to my testing,” Drake said.
“Yes, I figured this would be one of the more difficult projects. Still, if we can accomplish this then we will have reached the biggest goal Olento Research has ever experienced,” Mika said, rounding into the lab room lined with cells. Haiku came to attention at once, having spied Mika approaching from the corner of his vision.
He saluted and then stepped to the side, where Malcolm could be seen holding plank in his cell.
“How is his training?” Mika asked, watching as Malcolm shook slightly from the exercise of holding himself up on his forearms.
“It’s been remarkably successful,” Haiku said, holding out a presenting arm at the man sweating in the middle of the cell. “As you can see, he’s not at risk of escaping and has been extremely compliant to all my demands.”
Mika pulled up the corner of one side of his mouth. “Yes, I see that. Conditioning and behavior modification are powerful tools.”
“You’re right and this approach was brilliant,” Haiku said, an astonished look on his face. Yes, often employees were amazed at how incredibly intelligent Mika was.
“I’m sending you and Malcolm on a mission. You’ll need to take him there and stake it out. Hunter Smith will be there at some point in the future, but we don’t know when,” Mika said, handing over the piece of paper.
Haiku looked it over with a nod. “I’ll have my men stationed around the trailer park. We will do everything we can to return with Hunter.”
“I do realize that Hunter is one of the more dangerous werewolves, but under no circumstances should he be harmed. Ensure that Malcolm is aware of this. He needs to use force, but nothing deadly,” Mika said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel.”
- Margaret Atwood
Bonnie loved to play with her new camera. It wasn’t really new. The camera was just a function on the old phone her mother had given her when she got a new one. The phone didn’t call or message, but it took photos and that was pretty neat still. The eleven-year-old scrolled through the photos as the breeze blew through her hair on the back patio of her trailer. She was supposed to be at school, but she’d missed the bus and her mom’s car hadn’t run in a while. Maybe she should have gotten it fixed instead of upgrading her phone. Didn’t really matter to Bonnie. She got to stay home and pretend to be a photographer for the day.
Seeing the goings-on of the neighborhood when she was usually at school was a real treat. Not much happened. People came. People went. And there was no one around to control the radio station. She reached over and turned up the little boom box. It was older than her, according to her mother, but it got good enough reception. Her new favorite song came to a close and the news followed it. News was so boring, the girl often thought. However, lately there was talk of werewolves. They couldn’t really be real, her mother had told her. Still, there was that lady on the television who was always red-faced and talking about how the devil had made these monsters and they were going to attack society. And then there had been those murders all over Los Angeles. The police called the killer the rabid wolf.
Bonnie shivered at the idea of a werewolf. A half man and half wolf. That didn’t seem possible, but it would be way cool if they existed. And it would be ultra-scary.
Hunter caught his reflection in the window of the SUV. He resembled the wolf when not even changed with his pointy ears and long nose. He combed his hand over the stubble on his boxy jaw and smiled at himself. “Showtime,” he said, and gradually his features shifted, his ears drawing up higher on his head and the scruff on his chin overshadowed by the black fur that grew. He fisted his hands in front of his chest, enjoying the pain when his claws drew into place and pierced into the palms of his hands. Adrenaline spiked when he looked back at his reflection to see the werewolf in all its glory.
Over the hood of the SUV he spied the telltale signs that his mother was awake. She’d opened the blinds, one window at a time. Usually the whore walked around with little to nothing on, hoping she’d entice the neighborhood boys to visit her. Sometimes they had when he was younger. It wasn’t something that a boy should have to listen to from the other room. But soon her cries for help would pay the penance for her misdeeds.
The sun overhead made Hunter’s eyes squint. He’d never attacked someone during the day, and never in such a public place. But now, if he got caught, he didn’t care. Actually, prison was probably the right place for him. It was the only place he ever had any consistency. He didn’t have to worry when in prison. Everything was done for him.
Hunter prowled around to the corner of the house. Soon his mother would exit, smelling of stale whiskey and cigarette smoke. And he’d be ready. Hopefully she gave him a chase. It would be more fun that way, more frightening for her.
“That’s the house,” Zephyr said, pointing at the oxidized trailer with peeling paint.
“And that’s got to be Hunter,” Rio said, as a man exited an SUV parked in front of the trailer. Zephyr had thought it would be Hunter since the shiny brand new SUV stuck out in the rusty rundown neighborhood.
“Could it be Malcolm?” Connor said. “I expect this will be a formal reunion.”
“I suspect you’re right. But no, that’s Hunter. I can feel the hostility in him,” Zephyr said.
“And Malcolm is African American,” Rio supplied.
“Whoa,” Connor said, when Hunter shifted from man to werewolf.
“He’s not even trying to hide like before,” Zephyr said, scanning the neighborhood. No one was out except a little girl sitting on a patio across the street, but she was busy on her phone. “Rox, I want you to go in and get the victim. Guys, you’re with me. Let’s intervene.”
Haiku pulled the new van up to the corner and threw it into park. “The house is down that street. Stake out in front of it and wait for Hunter to show up,” he said, pointing to Malcolm in the passenger seat. “As soon as he does, cut him off and knock him out. When I get your signal over the wire then I’ll pull up and take over. Clear?”
Malcolm nodded his head, his eyes staring blankly out the windshield. “Yes, master.”
“Follow the plan. Don’t stray,” Haiku said, tapping his finger to the radio in his ear. “I’ll be listening in case you need backup.”
The vehicle’s door slamming shut grabbed Hunter’s attention at once. He jerked his eyes to the three men and woman approaching from across the street. The woman was wearing too much makeup and looked like the tramp that she no doubt was. He ran his eyes over the men and knew at once who they were and why they were there. They’d wasted their time and they were going to pay.
Hunter, with his heightened hearing, heard keys clang inside the trailer. His mother was leaving. “Damn it,” he growled as the first man stopped a few yards away.
“Don’t do this,” Zephyr said, his chest high and his voice commanding. “We can help you. Help you to stop.”
Hunter rocked back and then forward until he was perched on his hands. It was how the wolf felt more comfortable. It was how he could spring into action. He bared his teeth and growled fiercely at the pack.
Before he could launch himself forward, a screen door on the porch creaked when it opened. Distracted by tucking a tight tank top into a miniskirt, the woman exiting didn’t notice the people in her front yard.
The werewolf pulled his head toward his mom and then back at the pack. His almost black eyes glowed before he sprung in the opposite direction, racing for the woman on the porch. No matter what, he had to do what he came here for.
“No!” Zephyr said, holding up his hand and blasting a gale force wind at the werewolf, knocking him off his path and straight into the side of the trailer.
The woman jerked her head up, shielding her face from the residual wind. Her eyes enlarged with horror at the sight of the werewolf pi
nned to the trailer. A hoarse scream soared from her mouth. However, Hunter was strong and pushed past the strength of the wind seeking to keep him pinned. His claws pierced the trailer, stabilizing him, and then he pushed forward. Zephyr was using most of his strength to create the strongest wind he’d ever conjured. It made Hunter look like he was being blasted by the exhaust of a 747. Still, he was making progress toward the woman, who was frozen, staring at the beast inching his way to her.
“We have company,” Connor said at Zephyr’s back. “Malcolm is approaching.”
“Take care of him, Rio, but don’t hurt him,” Zephyr said just as his power diminished significantly, granting Hunter the relief he needed to leap forward. It was time for step two of the plan.
The werewolf launched himself at the woman, knocking her to the porch floor, his claws sinking into her shoulders. Knowing that his fur was sharp, Zephyr motioned to Rox to take over.
She looked all too happy to participate, lunging forward. The werewolf revolved his head around to her, a growl ripping from his mouth. His mother under him was locked in shock, her eyes seeming to vibrate from the events unfolding in front of her, on top of her.
“Bad dog,” Rox said, barreling her right shoulder into the werewolf, knocking him almost off the woman. The fibers didn’t faze Rox like they would have anybody else and now the werewolf was angry, his eyes shining with an orange glow. He shot to his feet and brought his clawed hand around. Rox swung back, but still caught the tips of the claws across her face, sweeping her jaw to the side. She smiled at him when he paused, unsure how her skin was unharmed.
Hunter could keep assaulting her, but she wasn’t going to be what brought the rabid wolf down. It couldn’t be her. “Now,” Zephyr bellowed.
Simultaneously, Rox darted to the side, grabbing the woman’s arm and hauling her away as Connor shot a ray of fire in between the werewolf and his prey, blocking him. Hunter backed up, snarling in the direction of the two other men.
“Stay out of this,” Hunter said, his voice gravelly and raw.
“Not a chance,” Zephyr said. “Step down and I won’t have to hurt you.”
The werewolf gave a short laugh, his eyes glowing orange as he did. “You’re a man. I’m a werewolf. You don’t stand a chance,” it said.
Zephyr realized that Hunter may never cooperate. And he could have Connor shoot his fire at him, burning him like he did Morgan. But again, it couldn’t be him. Inside, Zephyr knew what had to happen. It was like an instinct etched into his DNA. The alpha wolf stepped to the side and Hunter copied him. Again he stepped, his fists flexing open and closed, Hunter mirroring his movements. They sidestepped until they had made a complete circle on the porch, sizing each other up as they did. Zephyr stared at the werewolf, with teeth as sharp as knives and claws that could easily end him. He couldn’t make Hunter stop or stand down, but there was something else he could do.
The werewolf launched himself at Zephyr, who rolled to the side with a burst of speed, causing Hunter to ram into one of the posts of the porch. It cracked in two and the center of the roof caved in, pinning Hunter for a moment under the broken boards. He pressed his claws over his shoulder and pushed the roof off of him with an angry growl. Zephyr reached for a broken part of the post and brought it across the werewolf’s face as he launched himself at him a second time. Hunter shrunk back with a low yelp of ache, a grimace so heavy it pained Zephyr at his core. He didn’t want to do this, but he hadn’t been given a choice. Hunter had to be stopped. He felt Connor at his back, ready to intervene if needed.
The werewolf howled and leapt off the crumbling patio, into the yard. Standing on the dead grass, Hunter stared up at Zephyr, his eyes almost seeming to be begging suddenly. “I was punishing them. They had done bad things,” he said.
“That’s not your call,” Zephyr said, from his higher place.
“But they—”
“I said no,” Zephyr said, backing up a few steps before running and flying off the porch sideways, his leg extended in front of him. It rammed into Hunter’s chest, knocking him down as Zephyr rolled over and popped up to a standing position. The werewolf didn’t know how to fight. He’d only ever attacked small women. He was a coward, afraid of men. Afraid of Zephyr, who had asserted himself as the alpha. Looking down at him again, Zephyr’s gray eyes glowed bright. “Change back into a man,” he said.
The werewolf blinked up at him, confusion making him look like a scared little boy. Hunter pushed up to his feet but didn’t attack. He looked lost, like he wasn’t sure who he was anymore.
“Change back now!” Zephyr said, and for a moment his voice felt laced with a brand new skill. Something he’d never used before, but now knew he owned.
Hunter’s eyes dulled first as he seemed to shrink inside himself, and then his hair retracted. His claws and fangs withdrew. Regret filled his face as his features were made visible. He didn’t want to be hurt. He didn’t know how to stand up to Zephyr. The man had to bow to his alpha, such was the power Zephyr wielded.
“Hunter, you’re going to come with us, but you will never be free. You must be punished for the crimes you did,” Zephyr said, feeling Connor at his side.
Hunter nodded, looking so much smaller than he was. Before Zephyr he looked like a boy, an incredibly damaged boy, incapable of standing up for himself.
“I’m taking him to the car,” Zephyr said over his shoulder to Connor. “Go back up Rio.”
Connor had thought that Zephyr was going to have to kill Hunter, but that’s what he would have done. Zephyr was better than the others. He used solutions that favored the man, not the wolf. Watching him exert his power had been like reading poetry; there was a magic to it.
As Connor came around the SUV Hunter had been driving, Rio and Malcolm were brought into view. In the middle of the gravel road the two stood, facing off. Connor was reminded of the fight Zephyr just had when he and Hunter sidestepped in a circle measuring each other up. A cut ran down the side of Malcolm’s cheek and his eye already looked to be swelling. Rio wasn’t using his full power, Connor knew. He was just trying to get the advantage. Mika had done something to Malcolm if he was fighting Rio, but Adelaide had already suspected that and prepared the pack for the inevitability.
Connor stalled, watching the men crouch low into fighting stances. Rio could handle this. Rio could handle fighting ten men. Swiveling his head back to the trailer, Connor noticed Rox escorting the woman into her house. She was safe now. Turning back to the fight, Connor spied a van behind the men drive up. His eyes blinked as he tried to assimilate when he’d seen a similar van before. A similar driver. The guy in the passenger seat. And that guy was now leaning out the window, a gun in his hand. He fired once, twice, three times. The darts stuck into the ground around Rio. And then the fourth met its target.
“No!” Connor said, sprinting forward as Rio sank to the ground like a pillar falling. The van revved its engine as Malcolm picked up Rio, another man running out of the vehicle, helping him at once. Connor was too far away. He wasn’t going to make it. He held up his hand, feeling irrational fear and considered blasting the van, but he couldn’t get a clear shot on it. It was too likely he’d hit Malcolm and Rio. And then the men disappeared behind the van and it sped forward, straight at Connor. He dived to the side of the road just as the van passed, kicking up dust into a storm.
The van disappeared around a corner when he rose to a standing position. They were gone and they’d taken Rio. However, on the ground lay a single item. A handkerchief that must have fallen out of the guard’s pocket.
Zephyr’s jaw flexed when Connor told him what had happened. Then he slammed his fist into the steering wheel. In the backseat Rox was reading Hunter his rights, which were a bit different for the Lucidites. And on the broken porch a woman stood, her eyes cold and distant on the vehicle where they sat. It had been a successful mission, but losing Rio would definitely haunt Zephyr. He wasn’t going to stop until he’d found him, and Connor knew that completel
y.
“We’ll get him back,” Connor said to Zephyr.
“I know. And then we’re taking Olento Research down,” the alpha wolf said, total conviction in his voice.
The phone shook in Bonnie’s tiny hand. She couldn’t believe anything that just happened in old Miss Smith’s yard was real. Werewolves were real. She’d see one. The eleven-year-old girl had watched the werewolf fight with the man with silver and black hair. He’d taken control, making the werewolf change back into a man—a man who looked a lot like Hunter Smith. Then they’d all loaded up and gotten into the SUV and drove off. And although they were gone, she had all the proof she needed that what she saw was actually real. The girl looked down at the phone and stared at the picture of the werewolf. It wasn’t a crisp image, but it was clear what it was. The lady who ran the protests against werewolves would be interested in seeing this.
