by Amy Star
Sarah’s mind was still on Connor, and she desperately wanted to see him, to verify for herself that he was okay. She couldn’t escape the feeling of guilt. It should have been me, she said. Even though she knew that if she’d tried, he’d probably have knocked her out, slung her on his back, and things would have turned out the same way. Or worse.
You stupid unselfish bastard, she thought to herself and tightened her hands into fists to keep from crying in front of the Coyote woman across the table. They had taken a gamble, and it had failed. Now they were alone again, with no backup. Carefully she unzipped her leather jacket and slid the USB drive across the table. Laura’s eyes grew visibly wider and she reluctantly reached out and took it.
“What is this?”
“It’s most of one of their servers,” Sarah said very softly, putting her hands in her lap, “we managed to download it, before….”
Laura nodded. “You’re still our best hope of figuring out what’s going on with Golding and bringing him down. Will you help us?”
Sarah looked back at Laura and saw the young woman’s face grow stern with an honesty and gravity that reminded her of Connor. She knew that the eyes could always judge a person’s character, even though she suspected hers were probably filled with more terrible things. As she looked at Laura and Laura looked back, there was a kind of mutual respect, born out of necessity.
No doubt, Laura and her group had been fighting Dr. Golding for a long time. It showed in the creases of her face, even though her eyes were set and alert, like daggers, ready to thrust. She reached out and clasped the hand that was waiting for her over the table.
“It seems,” Sarah replied, “that I have a score to settle. For now, we’re on the same side.”
CHAPTER 12
In the infirmary, Sarah did her best to keep her cool again. It was a typical low-budget medical facility. With limited funds and having to work below the radar, Laura’s group had made do the best way they could. The renovated old apartment building had a number of different rooms, each floor dedicated to a different task in their revolutionary fight. One floor was a kitchen and storage area, another floor was for their firearms, a third dedicated to surveillance and tech. In the basement, their makeshift hospital had managed to acquire a number of expensive supplies.
There was a bustle of activity. She saw men and women of all ages, some as young as sixteen, going to and fro. It was like everyone had a job to accomplish and knew exactly where and when they needed to do it. Like clockwork, she thought to herself. The winding tunnels and alleys and rooms themselves, seemed like a labyrinth, and she had to keep close to Laura as the woman weaved in and out.
Connor opened his eyes slowly when he saw the two women enter. The walls were made of reinforced cement with bulging circular ribs that reminded Sarah of the inside of a ship. The doctor on hand was a young kid with big eyes who couldn’t figure out how to hold his clipboard, and gave her an awkward handshake. His accent was Scottish, and had a pleasing lilt to it.
“Mum,” he said, giving a polite salute to Laura who waved it off, “and... uh, mum.”
“How’s our patient doing, Raz?” Laura said, her hands on her hips.
“We got him put together,” the doctor replied, “had to dose him up pretty high with morphine though. He might not be making the most of sense. Funny bugger though. I like him.”
“Fraternizing with patients isn’t very professional,” Laura observed, and even though it was a joke, Raz stiffened. “How were the wounds?”
“Clean,” Raz said, “No sign of infection or poison. He was lucky. It looks like the Wolves didn’t have time to inject anything into him.”
“Inject?” Sarah said, a concerned look spreading over her face as she took a seat beside Connor on the stool.
“Hey, beautiful,” he wheezed.
“Whatever Golding did to the Wolves, he appears to have amped them up genetically,” Laura said and motioned to Raz to continue. “Yes, yes. It appears he’s introduced something into their genome, well, a number of things. Advanced healing rates, advanced strength. He’s managed to destabilize the hormone in the body that keeps muscles in check. Almost like a cancer… the muscles keep developing and growing, becoming double-layered.”
“They looked ripped alright,” Sarah said in her American accent.
“But they’ve also got some weird hijinks in their DNA. Including venom, apparently. Luckily, your mate looks unfazed. It probably didn’t have enough time to activate its venom glands.”
“How are you feeling?” Sarah said, rubbing Connor’s head.
His whole torso was wrapped in white bandages, and had started to bleed through in places, but he gave her a very cheerful smile and a wink. Even in this condition, his strength was evident. His massive abs flexed as he leaned up to kiss her and winced, and Sarah gently placed her hands on him and pushed him back. He felt hot, even through the bandages, and she bit her lip again.
“Hey, don’t do that,” he said, “I’m fine.”
“I know,” she said. But you almost weren’t. “That’s the second time you’ve suffered because of me,” she continued and saw a pained look spread on his face.
It was hard to forget the run-in they had had with the Bloodwere Bears. In order for Sarah to enter their den unnoticed, he had turned into a Bear and lured the others away. He’d managed to take two of them with him in the fight, but in the end they’d pummeled him nearly to death. She could still see the scars from that torture, the small areas where the bone hadn’t healed properly, every time she hugged them or they made love.
“I’m okay,” he repeated. “These folks are taking care of me well. Proper.”
“I know. They want us to help them,” she said, as if hoping he would give her permission or tell her it was a bad idea. She was tired of having to make the hardest choices.
“What do you think?” he said.
“I think we might have no choice. They mean well. I just… don’t know.”
“It’s dangerous,” he said, “and I’ve been filled in a bit too. At least, I hope so. It was a pretty fantastic story… other kinds of creatures like us, Wolves, Foxes, Coyotes. I didn’t dream that, right? It’s not the morphine?”
She had to laugh at his coyness and kissed his forehead. “No, you didn’t dream that. It’s true.”
“The way I see it, we’re off the hook,” he announced, and she could feel Laura and Raz behind her, pretending not to listen, even though they were the only people in the small-closeted hospital. “But, this is still an issue concerning our kind. People that have used us… experimented on us. It’s not right. And I think you know, deep down, that we can’t just walk away from this.”
“We could try,” she said hopefully.
He shook his head at her thoughtfully. “As long as there is danger out there, we can’t just let it roam and spread. We’re supposed to protect Cora, remember? It doesn’t matter what kind of threat it is, or how far away it might be. You can’t rest while there’s something out there, something like us, on the hunt. You already know all this, I know you do… you just need me to say it out loud.”
“I do.”
“Then, let’s finish this. So when we return, we can tell our daughter that there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Connor said.
Sarah let out a long breath and placed her head on Connor’s chest. His chest hair tickled her face but she rubbed her cheek on him affectionately, hearing his heart-rate rise with the gesture, and he cupped her head in his palm.
You’re my compass when I’ve lost my way, she thought, suddenly thankful that Connor was here with her. She knew that she had a tendency to get lost, especially when it concerned the people closest to her. It was a balancing act, two opposing forces – when she felt threatened she either wanted to hold those closest to her tightly and run away, hide, vanish from sight. Or she wanted to fight back, sometimes without due cause, sometimes recklessly.
It wasn’t always easy to decide which method wa
s better. When she added her dreams into the mix, it became even worse. It felt like being alone in a dark room without any kind of light source. She had to stumble through it, knocking over furniture, stubbing her toe, until she finally found the handle of the door.
But ever since Connor, she hadn’t had to stumble on her own, or at least, not for long. She knew with almost lucid certainty, something she could only attribute to faith that the door would open for her. And on the other side, he would be smiling back, ushering her back into the sunlight and a clear and solid choice.
She lifted her head and tied her hair back again, its glossy sheen skidding like oil on water across the leather of her jacket and she stood up. With one finger, she pressed it to her lips and brought it back down against the full open mouth of Connor, who kissed it back.
“What exactly is your plan?” she said, turning to Laura.
Laura had been waiting patiently and pursed her lips, collecting her thoughts for a moment before she responded. “Ideally, we would have had the two of you sneak into the facility using the security badges. They’re still valid, and could still work.”
“No one saw our faces,” Sarah confirmed.
“But in his condition, I’m afraid you’ll have to go alone,” Laura said leaning her head over so she could indicate that Connor needed rest. “I’ll have my people take a look at that data you managed to swipe. With any luck, we should be able to come up with a more fool-proof plan by tomorrow.”
“You’re still set on bringing down Golding?” Connor asked over them.
“Our first and imminent priority is to ensure that other theriomorphs stay safe. The more we lose to Golding, the more Golding’s army increases. But yes, I want to bring down Golding… from the inside, if possible.”
With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the hospital without looking back, and Raz fumbled nervously with his clipboard again, before checking on Connor’s vitals.
“She’s not all that bad,” the young doctor squeaked, “she’s just been at this too long. Seen too many friends killed. It gets to you after a while, you know?”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, I do.”
Raz’s voice softened. “She just wants this war to end.”
*
The next morning Laura had, in fact, developed a plan. According to the information they’d managed to get off the USB drive, there was some sort of chemical fixture that was being used to alter the genetic structure of theriomorphs. Combined with a regiment of classical conditioning and shock therapy, it was the perfect mixture of incentive and psychology to turn otherwise normal shape-shifters into trained killing machines.
According to Laura, there were several drugs. One, which was used to stimulate the adrenal gland and amp up the amygdala, increasing energy, strength and uncontrollable rage. A second chemical was used as a kind of downer, neutralizing these tendencies.
The first chemical composition was beyond anything Laura’s team had ever seen, and was mostly likely a by-product of Dr. Golding’s own personal biochemistry experiments. The second drug, Laudacite, was familiar to them as a kind of hyper-sedative. There was only one place in London that had access to the kind of quantity of Laudacite that Golding would require.
And he just so happened to be a Russian mobster.
“You know what you have to do?” Laura said, giving Sarah another breakdown of the plan.
“I think so. Get him alone, figure out a way to get information on who he’s supplying. I don’t suppose you have any practical ideas of how I should go about that?”
Laura looked Sarah over and winked. “You’ll think of something.”
She was wearing a dress that was too tight and hugged her body in all the wrong places. It was worse than being naked. Now it was like those aspects of her body reserved only for Connor were being emphasized, put on display for others. She pulled at the hem of the dress. She opened the door and stepped onto the curb.
The Russian, a man named Vladimir, frequented the club across the street. She had no problem getting in, and the bouncer almost gawked at her. In a black short dress and long hair, she was probably one of the more beautiful women he had ever seen. She didn’t know how to walk in heels, but she tried to act flirtatiously as she entered the club.
She was almost knocked unconscious by the blaring bass of techno music, and had to squint through the dark atmosphere, which was being radiated with flashing lights of all colors. She closed her eyes, focused on the image of Vladimir again, and wound her way through the crowd of dancing people. Men and women jostled her, and she felt another pang of claustrophobia threaten its way up her throat but choked it back and kept pushing through.
Vladimir was dressed in a blue suit, shiny in the light, with an open purple shirt half-buttoned. His chest hair squirmed grossly out, and he had a thin hawkish nose, but a full chin. Beside him, a bored looking girl who was probably too young for him sipped absently at a drink. Sarah gulped and approached, and stood for half a second, eyeing him down until he noticed her.
What am I doing, she wondered. She had been trained in survival techniques, the use of a bow. Not how to seduce men, and she suddenly felt very awkward. Nevertheless, she was beautiful and Vladimir knew it. He poked the arm of the girl beside him and made a gesture with his hand that said get out of here. The girl put on a hurt look and sneered at Sarah. Vladimir extended his hand, as if offering her the seat.
“I’ve never seen you around here before,” he said, leaning in and shouting into her ear. She winced. He smelled like too much gin, and his teeth had a yellow nicotine stain to them.
“I’m new,” she said, and repeated it louder, “I’m new!”
“Well, new girl, do you have a name?”
“Lenore,” she said, fumbling for a convincing alias.
“Well, Lenore, this is my private place. So anything you want, anything… you tell me, da? Where are you from?”
“America. I came here,” she tried to remember her script, “to study English.”
“That’s great! London’s a good place to study,” he drawled, and she could tell he was slightly drunk, “but I’m glad you made it here. You’re very beautiful, you know that?”
She tried to force a blush, and bit her tongue as he reached out with a clammy hand and touched her cheek, his eyes sleepy and full of crude unspeakable thoughts.
“I’m not beautiful,” she said, trying to sound coy. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“That’s not my intention, babe,” he said. “Listen, why don’t we go somewhere more private? This place is noisy. I’ve got a nice suite upstairs. You’ll love it!”
He offered her his hand and she let him drag her to her feet. Instinctively she pulled down the dress again, though it did little to cover her broad smooth thighs, tanned evenly and dark from long hours running in the woods and laying on the grass.
Upstairs was much easier on her senses. She could smell cologne, and even as she walked hesitantly into his kitchen, she felt her desperation increase. Vladimir looked back at her and winked again. “I have to go to the washroom,” he said, “Help yourself to a drink. Pour me one, too.”
He disappeared in the back, and she heard a door shut. By a small bar, she poured two glasses of what looked like Scotch, and the smell almost mad her gag. Her keen observation skills moved across the room, and she noticed a flat art-deco desk against the window with a laptop.
She hesitated again for half a second and sped over. Not even a password, she remarked in disbelief and typed in search command. Over the top of the laptop she looked up nervously. Vladimir was pissing heavily into the toilet and she could hear the splashing. He was humming to himself, something in Russian she couldn’t translate.
Several windows popped up and she pulled the USB from between her breasts, hidden on a chain around her neck, and plugged it in. From a cursory look, it seemed like there was only one distributor that matched Laura’s criteria. She would have to let Laura’s people figure it out.
&n
bsp; “Hurry up,” she whispered, tapping her finger on the laptop.
Done. She pulled it out and looked up and gasped. Vladimir was snarling at her, a look of murderous intent on his face. She didn’t have time to duck as he slapped her across the face and she fell backward. Just pain, she snarled, kicking off the stilettos.
Vladimir took a step forward and saw the USB on the floor. One heavy foot came down, shattering it into pieces, and she swore to herself.
“Little bitch,” Vladimir said, “who are you? Who sent you?”
She stood up. He was blocking her path. She knew that she could probably make it past him, even render him unconscious, but there was something she needed from him and she wasn’t going to leave without it. She owed him one, too. He seemed taken aback as she unzipped the back of her dress and peeled the skin-tight dress off. Free of their constraints, her brown breasts pushed down, full and heavy. Vladimir’s attention seemed caught by the dark shadows where her breasts curved underneath themselves, literally spilling out from her.
“The fuck?” he said, watching as she pulled down the rest of the dress and stripped off her panties. She stood fully naked in front of him, and took a step forward, her pubic hair a triangular mound, thin and sharp as quills.
“I have one question,” she said, and took another step.
He reached out to hit her again, but she blocked him and spun around, roundhouse kicking him in the jaw. He fell and looked up, spat blood, and wiped his mouth.
“I’m going to kill you!”
She blocked another punch targeting her stomach, kicked him hard in the groin and leaned over him. “One question. Who is your biggest supplier of Laudacite?”
“Go to hell!” the Russian murmured.
“Do you know why I’m naked?” she asked with a grin, “It’s so I don’t ruin the dress for what I’m about to do.”
Ten minutes later, she walked out of the club with a laptop under one arm and a small silver briefcase in the other. Laura raised an eyebrow through the tinted window of the Cadillac and rolled it down. The woman was barefoot, and had a small bruise forming on her jawline, but she was smiling a killer smile.
