Ronne frowned. “About what?”
“About the virus. What Vincent and I saw with that last werewolf... the behavior was too weird. Like...” Sam trailed off, shaking her head. “Vincent can tell him the details, but I want to know how the research is going.” She winked at them. “I’ll expect a full report.” Ronne snorted at that.
“And what will you be doing, love?” Vincent asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, though Sam could feel his mind poking at hers in a kind of frenzy. She sighed, smiling tightly.
“I’m going to have a talk with Lenny.” Sam noted the concern on their faces, and it matched her own. Lenny’s involvement in all of this had been kept to the periphery, primarily for his own safety, and, while Lenny knew Ben in passing, they weren’t close. Sam needed to know how he found out that her best friend was missing, and when. The timeline needed to be set so that she had a point to start from in looking for Benny. The city was too full of people, and werewolves, for her to find him, even with the bond they had, even with how familiar his scent was. Sam knew something had to have happened... Ben would not have left the apartment behind without a good reason. There was too much of importance to Sam within these walls, and Ben knew that. It had been his refuge as a child, a place to escape the bullying and the beatings, a place to feel warm and safe. Sam glanced around the apartment, recalling how neat it was when she and Vincent arrived three weeks ago. Almost too neat. She hadn’t thought about it until now, but her instincts at the time to check on Ivan’s book, and a number of other personal and relevant items, to ensure they were still in place and undisturbed may have been more relevant than she thought.
Later that night, long after soup had been eaten and Ronne settled into Sam’s former room for observation, Sam lay awake in Vincent’s arms, listening to him breathe quietly as he slept, relishing his scent and warmth. Unfortunately, thoughts of Ben and werewolf shenanigans kept her from enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking. Ben’s disappearance bothered her, to be sure, but, strangely, it was the werewolf in the north that was niggling at her mind. She’d behaved like she’d been trained to obey, but Sam didn’t believe it was the words Vincent used that caused that effect. With the attention that the werewolf had focused on him, it was more like she was obeying him specifically. Sam shifted in the bed, nestling closer, and Vincent’s arm tightened around her. She hoped his and Ronne’s trip in the morning to visit Hudson would be enlightening. The talk with Lenny wasn’t something she was looking forward to, but she’d rather deal with him right now than with Hudson.
Jack Hudson was a doctor, but he was a scientist first, and his persistent requests for blood samples and examinations and genetic testing and whatnot were beyond irritating. Sure, Sam understood why... After all, there were very few people in the world with the unique genetic makeup and history to support the Lycanthropic Virus as she could. Vincent and his sister, Alice, also were unique, but their ability to support and utilize the virus was a mutation, and not inherited as hers and Ivan’s had been. She often wondered if Ivan, in his own research and travels, had ever discovered when their own unique family story had first started. There was nothing in the Book, the scrapbook-slash-journal that Ivan had kept and passed to her upon his death.
The sky was beginning to brighten when Sam finally left thoughts of werewolves, and books, and Ben behind her, and fell asleep.
4
JACK HUDSON TURNED another page of the binder lying open on his desk, adjusted the reading glasses perched on his nose, and leaned in to read the fine printing. He’d been poring over the pages of this book for several days now, looking for something, anything, that would give him the insight he needed, that would point him toward something else to try. His quest to create and refine a vaccine for Lycanthropic Virus had begun years ago... After all, you never weaponize a bacteria or virus without having some sort of countermeasure... Otherwise, what’s the point? Now, more than ever, Hudson knew he needed to get the vaccine made. He called it a vaccine, but it was really more of a treatment, a way to essentially render the LV inert, a lingering virus in the body like herpes that could be controlled and treated so it no longer affected the quality of life and function of the infected.
Hudson sighed, and smirked. Some would have laughed at the nobility of what he was trying to do. After all, not that long ago, he’d been so engrossed in the actions of the virus in the werewolf’s body, he’d discounted the very real effects on the human being’s body and life. That’s Miss Karolyi’s doing, he thought to himself, and Hudson smiled at that. It was true... His interactions with the young detective, and with her grandfather, had a major effect on his previously cold, scientific heart. As a trauma surgeon in London, Dublin, and now New York, Jack Hudson was a legend, not only for his unparalleled skill, but for his toughness, some might even call it callousness. Really, it was self-preservation. When you saw death so much, held it in your hand, that power over others either made you an egotistical maniac, or it caused you to wall yourself off from others. Hudson had chosen the latter, focusing on the science and clinical, and leaving the emotion for the nurses and the green interns who hadn’t learned any better yet.
Hudson sighed again, and sat back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing his nose. It had been a long night, and with his shift on-call barely begun, looked to be an even longer day. He would need coffee... much coffee...
Abruptly, his door swung open and, before Hudson could say a word it closed again, and he was faced with two unexpected, and unwanted, guests. Hudson leaned forward, quickly closing the binder as Vincent Kremer and Frank Ronne took a seat in the consultation chairs on the other side of the desk. Ronne, at least, had the decency to look a bit uncomfortable as he sank into the chair. He looked as if he’d been in a fight of some kind, judging by the knot on his forehead and the significant bruise that was beginning to show. He also had dark circles under his eyes, and Hudson made a mental note to ask him later if he was having trouble sleeping again. Ronne had struggled the past few months with the consequences of being a Raven away from his Wolf, and, at times, Hudson had been forced to give him a tranquilizer or two to relax him and get him over the humps.
Vincent, on the other hand, was his usual cocky self, lounging back in the chair and smirking at Hudson. Hudson strained to keep his face as neutral as possible, but Vincent saw through him quickly.
“Aw, Jack! You don’t seem happy to see us. Did we interrupt something?”
“What do you want?” Hudson asked, deflecting the question with his own. “I’m on-call, and not interested in wasting my little free and quiet time being harassed.”
“Harassed? Really?” Vincent chuckled, and looked at Ronne. “He’s got a lot of nerve, doesn’t he?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to Hudson, and sighed. “Fine, Jack, we’ll keep it brief and to the point. Three weeks ago, a werewolf showed up just south of the Karolyi cabin.” Hudson sprang to attention at that, but Vincent quickly waved him off. “Sam is fine, and so am I, thanks for asking. That’s not the point. The werewolf...was a female, maybe two moons old... Thing is, when I told her to stop, to not attack Sam... She listened, and she obeyed.”
Hudson kept his eyes down as he listened. This was a disturbing development, to be sure. He certainly was not the only scientific researcher experimenting and studying this virus, and, after the incidents surrounding the conversion of Sam Karolyi and the death of Diane Weber, Hudson had been restricted from access to a great deal of the Pack’s activities. It had made his work exceedingly difficult, and the fact that he had made such strides, despite their restrictions and impositions, was a credit to his own genius and tenacity. One thing Jack Hudson never did is fail to give himself credit when he believed it due.
Hudson sighed, and raised his head to look at the pair across from him. “May I ask a question?” Vincent shrugged in response, and Hudson continued: “Where is Sam?” Vincent smirked at that, but it was Ronne who answered.
“She’s looking for Ben.” They both watched
Hudson’s face, checking for any sign of knowledge about the situation that they could extract from him. There was nothing, though, and Hudson seemed genuinely surprised at the news... Surprised, and worried.
“How long has he been missing?” His British accent strengthening as concern crept into his voice.
“About six weeks,” Ronne replied.
Hudson tossed his reading glasses on the desk, and sighed deeply, his hand rubbing the slight growth of stubble on his jaw and chin. “So, she’s gone on her own to look for him?”
“No.” Vincent glared, clearly annoyed by the intimation that he was not taking proper care of his mate. “She has gone to talk to her partner, Lenny, to see what he can tell her, and if he can help.”
“Former partner,” Ronne interjected, his own look of annoyance flashing at Vincent.
“Sorry. Former partner. Anyway...” Vincent threw a glare back at Ronne, then focused his attention on Hudson once more. “Sam is going to talk to him.”
“She thinks he’ll have information?”
“Lenny was the one that called us. We want to know how he knew when no one else did.”
Hudson chuckled. “Well, that answer I can give you. He likely found out from Prutzmann.” As he expected, the reaction from both men was immediate. Ronne’s eyes went wide, then narrowed as the wheels in his head clearly began to spin, analyzing this new tidbit of information and evaluating its significance. Vincent, on the other hand, frowned deeply, his jaw clenching at the mention of his long-term nemesis. The war between John Prutzmann and Vincent Kremer had been a lengthy one, beginning within days of Vincent’s conversion over ten years ago. Though they were in a tenuous truce currently, the animosity was still raw and ready.
“Why would he have been talking to Prutzmann?” Vincent asked through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know,” Hudson responded. “But perhaps it had something to do with the missing boy.” He shrugged. “I have not seen John Prutzmann for... at least six weeks. He isn’t well.”
“I could have told you that years ago.”
“No, Vincent, that’s not what I mean, and I think you know it.” Vincent’s smirk faded, and he averted his eyes. Yes, you know... Hudson thought, John told you, just as he told me... The virus is destabilizing, and every day the healing, the strength, the skill, are all slowing seeping away. “My time has been occupied with finding a vaccine and finding a way to stabilize the virus when conversion reverses. John is...old... for a werewolf... very old, as most burn out like fireworks on Bonfire Night. He’s held on for many, many years, and I hope I can find a way to keep him alive, even if only to find out why.”
“So, if you haven’t seen him, how do you know he met with Lenny?”
“He phoned. He told me that he would be going out of town, with Alice, and that he would be in touch when he could. And he mentioned that he had met with Detective Jackson, and that he felt I should be aware of the meeting so that, if Jackson chose to stop in here, I wouldn’t be caught unawares. He didn’t tell me what the conversation was about.” Hudson glanced at the clock on the wall. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I have to grab coffee and make rounds in emergency. I believe you can see yourselves out.” Without waiting for the pair to leave first, Hudson grabbed his lab coat from the back of his chair and proceeded to slip it on as he walked to the door.
“Jack?”
Hudson sighed wearily. “Yes, Vincent?”
“Thank you.” Hudson looked back, his own brown eyes meeting Vincent’s dark ones. They’d always had a kind of war of their own, perhaps because of the circumstances of Vincent’s infection, Hudson’s own role in it, and in the aftermath... it had been a hard decade for them, Raven and Wolf, constantly at odds... But there were brief moments, like this, when they seemed to finally understand each other, accept each other. It never lasted long, but it was worth enjoying when it happened.
Hudson smiled. “You’re welcome. Get out of my office.” The words were harsh, but the wink he gave them softened it. Hudson exited, leaving the door open behind him.
Vincent and Ronne sat still for a moment, before Ronne looked over at the Irishman. “What do you want to do?”
“About?”
“Sam... going to meet Lenny.”
Vincent stood up and started toward the door. “Nothing, why?”
Ronne bounced out of his chair, all six-foot-three of him, and hurried after Vincent. They eschewed the elevators, entering the stairwell instead.
“You think she’s going to be safe meeting with him?”
Vincent stopped on the landing, and Ronne nearly ran into him. “Yes, I think she will be safe. They’re meeting at a public place, and it’s Lenny, for fuck’s sake! He’s not going to hurt her.” Vincent started down the stairs, with Ronne steps behind.
“I’m not worried about Lenny hurting her.” Ronne said as they descended, turned, descended, on their way to the lobby. “But if he met with Prutzmann within the last few weeks, and anybody else saw it, they might be watching him.” Vincent slowed as they hit the last landing, and Ronne came around to face him. “They don’t know she’s back, do they?”
Vincent scowled. Fuck! Instinctively, Vincent felt for the H&Ks under his coat, and, when he spoke, his voice was deep and strained. “Where did she say they were meeting?”
“The Empire Diner, on 10th Avenue.”
Vincent exhaled with a whoosh and nodded his head. “Alright, let’s go.”
5
EMPIRE DINER
Detective Leonidas Jackson sipped his coffee, watching the door of the diner. He’d chosen the booth for its strategic position, giving him an unobstructed view of the door, the stairs outside, and even 10th Avenue. It gave him some confidence, though he still felt like everyone’s eyes were on him. He’d felt it when he was here before... The door breezed open, and Lenny looked up to see who had entered.
Sam Karolyi looked around the restaurant, her eyes finally settling on Lenny. She smiled brightly as she wove her way to the booth, sliding in across from him. They were quiet as the waitress brought Sam a cup of coffee and left menus for them.
“Well,” Sam began, fingering the handle of her coffee cup nervously. “It’s been... awhile... huh?”
Lenny smiled. “Yeah. You look good, Sammy.”
“You, too, Lenny. How’s the back?”
Lenny shrugged. “Some days better than others. It is what it is, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
An awkward silence descended, and both were visibly relieved when the waitress returned to take their orders. Lenny ordered light, the grilled cheese plate. Since last fall, and the physical ordeal he’d been through, he often had to force himself to eat. He listened with relish as Sam ordered the chili con carne along with her grilled cheese. He was tempted to get some himself, could almost taste it as he thought about it, but he knew if he did his ulcer would never forgive him.
The waitress left to put the orders in, and the awkward silence descended again. Sam fiddled with the paper ring that had been around the silverware, rolling it around on the table until it rolled into the moisture left over by the glass of ice water. It absorbed it quickly, collapsing into a wet pile. She sighed and looked up at him.
“Lenny... I need to know about Ben. I need to know what you know. And I need to know how you know.”
Lenny nodded somberly. “Alright. You’re probably not going to like it.”
Sam arched an eyebrow as she glared at him. “Okay, I realize we haven’t actually been working as partners for a while now, but you should know already that is the absolute worst way to begin a conversation with me.”
“Yeah, I should know better. What I do know is your temper. I don’t want you exploding and drawing any more attention to us than we already have.” He glanced around casually, then nodded at her. “So...”
“Grilled cheese with extra fries?” The waitress stepped up beside the table, and placed the dish in front of him, then set the chili bowl and grilled
cheese in front of Sam. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
As soon as the waitress had gone, Lenny leaned toward Sam. Sam leaned forward as well under the pretense of reaching for the hot sauce at the end of the table.
“I found out about Ben... from John Prutzmann.” Sam sat back, hot sauce in hand, resting bitch-face firmly in place. It wasn’t a great sign of things to come, but at least she hadn’t exploded. Lenny sat back, his eyes scanning the people around them briefly. The closest couple was two booths away, and the tables in the area were all empty.
“How did you end up meeting with him?” Sam asked, her voice strained as she mechanically shook hot sauce into her chili.
“Better ease up there before you burn yourself,” Lenny commented, gesturing to the bowl of chili. “The meeting? He called me, said he needed to talk, that he had information. Told me to choose the place and time, and he’d be there. So, we met... here, at the diner.” He chuckled. “I’ve gotta say, after all that time, it felt so... surreal seeing him... I remembered his voice, from the parking garage. I heard a lot that day, more than I ever wanted to. I heard him and your boy fighting... I heard Benny getting help for me... I heard...” He trailed off, his eyes shifting focus to his sandwich.
“You heard me.” Sam finished.
“Yeah.” Lenny cleared his throat, his hand smoothing his perfect cornrows. “Anyway... we met here. Sat right here, as a matter of fact. I wanted to have a clear view of the door, and of him when he came in.”
“What did he want, Lenny?”
“It was about Ben... and more...” Lenny trailed off, watching the bitchy look fade from Sam’s face, replaced by a look of concern mixed with curiosity. Lenny took a small sip of the ice water in front of him, then began...
THREE WEEKS EARLIER, Lenny had watched the large man shuffle into the diner, and towards the booth. Based on what he’d heard from Sam and Ben, he’d expected a big, strapping, bull of a man... not this stooped, somewhat emaciated figure that was carefully sliding into the booth across from him. He recalled seeing footage of AIDS victims before their deaths, and it looked a lot like this...
The Bloodline Series Box Set Page 48
