“That’s an understatement.” Cheney lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t get a good look at what was in those jars, but from what I did see—well, no human being could have created those things. Not one with a soul, anyway.”
Karl sipped his beer. “Things like the Svengali Project take on a life of their own.” He sighed. “There will always be those who think it’s all about research for research’s sake and be damned to those who pay the price.”
They all absorbed the wisdom of that comment. Then Buck shrugged. “That sucks.”
“A surprisingly succinct comment, my friend.” Karl chuckled. “It does indeed suck.”
“So what happens now?” Lian leaned forward. “Can you establish a cross link to the basilisk killer based on what it told Pandora? Is there enough evidence left to tell us any more about the Larson creature?”
Buck blinked at his wife. “You want to know more?”
“Sure. It’s a fascinating case study. Something we’ve never run across before.” Lian met his look squarely. “Of course I’m interested.”
“You rock, babe.” Karl grinned at her. “How much evidence we’ll have, I don’t know. Your guys…” He waved his bottle at Buck and Cheney. “The forensics dudes…well, they’ll have plenty to play with for some time to come. I gotta thank you both for what you brought me, since I reckon I’ll have some playtime too. On a different level, of course.” He looked smug.
Pandora smiled at him. “And you’ll keep us informed of what you find, won’t you?”
“Sheesh. You have to ask?”
“I’m a lawyer, Karl. I know when someone’s lying.”
“I object.” Karl opened his eyes wide.
“Overruled.” She flashed back. “You promise to let us know what you find, okay?”
“Inasmuch as I think you’ll be able to understand, yeah.” He smirked. “Not that I want to imply you’re all dumb, but when it comes to recombinant genetic models, DNA mutation characteristics as referenced by single strand manipulations…well, hands up all those who’d know one if they found it in their breakfast cereal?”
There was laughter and not a single raised hand.
“Okay, dude. You made your point.” Cheney’s chuckle spoke for all of them.
Pandora yawned. “It’s hard to believe it’s done. And that it links back to a previous case involving the two of you. Odd kind of karmic circle.”
Lian nudged Buck and looked pointedly at Karl. “Time we got out of here, guys. These folks need some serious down time. And I want a word or two with you…” she nudged Buck, “…about this bad habit of yours. The one where I don’t get filled in on all the pertinent details.”
Buck stood and slipped on his jacket. “Yes, dear.”
Pandora wondered why Cheney made a whip-like noise and Buck flipped him the finger. Men. Strange creatures.
But at least Cheney was her strange creature. As he proved when the door closed behind their guests.
“Come here. There’s something I really need to do.”
She walked to him, only to find herself grabbed and pulled hard against his chest. She lifted her face, seeing his serious expression staring down at her. “I meant it, you know. I love you.”
He kissed her then, a long slow meeting of their lips and their tongues. She lifted her arms to tangle them around his neck, tugging him closer, moaning a little in the back of her throat as he sucked the breath from her body. Finally she peeled their mouths apart.
“I meant it too. I love you, Cheney Fisher.” She rested her head on his chest, listening to the regular thud of his heartbeat. “You heard me, didn’t you? Heard me scream in that place?”
“Yes.” He nodded, brushing the top of her head with his chin. “It wasn’t like hearing a noise. More like feeling the terror inside me. Inside that special AG spot, you know?”
“Strange stuff.” She snuggled closer.
“No kidding.” He sighed. “Come to bed with me, Pandora. I’m not sure if either of us are up to anything athletic, but I know I won’t get a wink of sleep unless you’re there beside me.” He switched out the lights as he pulled her toward the stairs. “Besides, I might have nightmares.”
She laughed. “More likely me when it comes to nightmares.” It was a casual comment, but Pandora had a sneaking feeling that she wouldn’t have too many nightmares if Cheney’s arms were around her, or his warm body comforting her as it spooned against her spine.
In no time at all they were naked and snuggled beneath the covers. In the darkness and comfortable silence, Pandora spoke.
“I nearly lost myself, Cheney.”
He was quiet for a moment, stroking his fingertips over her arm where it lay across his chest. “You scared me. Not just growing into that massive tree, but I could feel your—joy. Your pleasure in it. I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back to me.”
“It was hard. An experience like that…well, it defies description. Maybe it was because I’d held it all back for so long. Ignored it, suppressed it, whatever you want to call it. I’d turned my back on half of myself. If you hadn’t called me when you did, well who knows what might have happened. But I do know one thing.” She tapped his chest. “You helped me take the first steps toward understanding what I am, Cheney. If not for that, for you, I might not have been able to let go and become the one thing that saved us.”
“We’re both going to have to work on that.” Cheney’s voice was sober and thoughtful. “I’ve done the same thing, Pandora. I haven’t turned away from my gift, but I rarely use it in a way that could give me the kind of joy I felt from you.”
“I guess it’s all about coming to terms with who we are. Accepting it. Using our abilities to improve our lives, rather than sticking them in a box in the back of our closets.”
“Think we can do that?” He rested his cheek against her head.
“I think—I think that together we can do anything.” She smiled contentedly.
“I think you’re right.” He moved down a little, his arms sliding over her skin in a gentle sensuous caress. “Counselor?”
“Hmm?”
“I’d like to make a motion.” His hands wandered to deliciously sensitive places.
She moaned with delight. “Motion granted.”
Epilogue
The moon shyly peeked from behind its veil of clouds, illuminating a small figure who mounted the steps at the rear of an unobtrusive building in Chinatown. It patted the head of one of the two small Foo dog statues bracketing the entrance.
“Hey, Wilfred. Did I miss anything?”
The stone eyes lit up with a cheerful green glow as a hand rested, palm down, between the ears.
“Good to know. Keep up the good work.” Karl passed through the door, which had opened in response to his palm identification system. No need to jangle keys and wake anyone. He liked his privacy and wasn’t shy about using technology to serve his own needs as much as anyone else’s.
Making his way to the lab, his mind dwelt on the questions of the hour. How that monster had created a chimera that had survived for longer than five minutes. Then there was the question of how it had been controlled—how a mind-link could be established with a thing like that.
Karl was no Svengali. He asked for and received volunteers willing to spend an hour or so being poked and prodded or filling out surveys. Some were even hooked up to various calibration devices.
But no one was ever hurt, Karl paid them by the hour, and the results were always kept confidential.
It wasn’t so much the genetic component that fascinated him. Genetics seemed little more than elaborate mechanics and he had no desire to crossbreed a vampire with a unicorn or do anything else uselessly outrageous.
But the idea of telepathy, true telepathy between AGs? Well, now that was fascinating. Tracing the source of the ability, identifying which AG mutation possessed it, and figuring out how to make use out of it—all these things were of interest to Karl.
He was turning concepts over i
n his mind as he walked to some of his equipment and took a quick look at the data they were generating. Nothing there really surprised him. The numbers simply confirmed that Victoria Larson was part human female and part ghoul. Physically. There was a third source of DNA in what was left of its brain that shared enough genetic markers to be positively identified as blood kin—probably her grandfather.
Of course there were irregularities, but these would be followed up on by his equipment, not Karl himself. Once again he blessed his great-grandparents for amassing a fortune and his grandparents for enlarging it.
And once again he permitted himself a moment of self-disgust. For it was unknown to everyone except Karl that in his family tree was one relative who had worked for Prendergast Industries. A great-uncle who had seen the writing on the wall and managed to get out before the shit hit the proverbial fan. None of which was terrible.
But it was what he’d done afterward that made Karl sick. This man had sold some of the Prendergast experimental techniques for a considerably huge sum of money. Then vanished off the face of the earth without revealing the name of the buyer.
At the back of Karl’s mind was always the possibility that when irregularities occurred, like the basilisk killer and the ghoul-chimera, one of his relatives was to blame. That such an event signaled the use of that stolen Prendergast information. And that perhaps this would be his chance to trace the source and uncover the name of the buyer, which would lead him to whoever might be using it today.
He sighed. Didn’t look like it was going to happen this time around. But there was always tomorrow.
He glanced at the clock. He was restless, hungry, ready for company. And the night was young.
There was a neat apartment at the rear of the lab and as Karl reached his bedroom, he heaved a sigh and slipped from his small clothes. It wasn’t bad being a little person. Women were fascinated and men amused, but not threatened. All of which worked well for Karl in his professional life.
His personal life? Well that was something else. Like him, it was very private.
Nude, he stood before his mirror and closed his eyes, relieved that he could at last let go of this current body and shift back to his original shape.
The warmth of the change flooded his veins and he grunted as muscles stretched, connective tissue re-linked with itself and bones strengthened.
Mere moments passed before he opened his eyes—and looked at himself.
“Better.” He grinned.
The tall handsome man in the mirror grinned back. There was much to be said in favor of shape shifting. The biggest advantage? None of the women he slept with would ever find him the next day—unless he wanted them to.
Slipping into his jeans and black shirt, Karl left the trappings of science behind him and headed cheerfully out for his favorite club, secure in the knowledge that even his oldest friend Lian wouldn’t know him if she met him now.
His little alter ego was partly a joke Karl played on the world, partly a psychological experiment and partly a desire to keep his real identity close to his vest. He could get laid and produce elegant scientific data without any overlap between the two. It was just about perfect.
With a whistle on his lips and a carefree attitude, Karl strolled in to the Den of Iniquity, fielding greetings from friends, warm smiles from more than a few women and heading for the bar.
The music was good, the micro-brewed house beer excellent and for the moment all the baddies Karl knew had been vanquished. Couldn’t ask for more than that.
Fate, always on the alert for thoughts of that nature, snickered.
Karl didn’t know that, of course. He merely sat comfortably on his barstool as a stranger walked through the door…
About the Author
Sometimes dreams do come true. Wynne Hayworth’s dream has always been to write good books that people will enjoy. Stories that make them smile, even if there’s blood spatter tossed into a few of ’em. Humor is, to Wynne, a vital part of life. Without a laugh or two now and again, things can get horribly depressing, thus there’s always going to be a strong dash of fun in everything Wynne writes. That’s her promise to herself—and her readers.
To learn more about Wynne, please visit www.wynnehayworth.com. She loves to hear from readers and you can drop her a note at [email protected].
Look for these titles by Wynne Hayworth
Now Available:
Afterglow
Demons are Forever
Evolution got an astronomical kick in the pants. Now it’s kicking back…
Demons are Forever
© 2009 Wynne Hayworth
Afterglow. Our world is changed. Mutated. Now home to humans who possess DNA belonging to creatures once thought to be only the stuff of legends. So what if the neighbor howls at the moon every month? No big deal as long as he mows his lawn.
A savage killer munching on helpless victims, however, is a big deal to Detective Buck Shand.
Buck is thinking less legend and more nightmare as he surveys the most recent in a series of brutal slayings. It’s beyond even his special talents, and he’s going to need help with this one. It arrives in the shapely form of Dr. Lian Herrick, a woman with her own form of Afterglow mutation—a demon that will shake Buck’s everyday world to its foundations and turn his brain inside out.
Will their combined skills be enough to track and stop a savage killer? Possibly. If they can keep their minds on business and their hands off each other long enough to lure a beast who feeds on sex—then kills for pleasure.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Demons are Forever:
He was gentle, warm, touching her mouth at first then licking at the seam and urging her lips apart. His tongue slipped inside as she welcomed his intrusion, sucking on it, teasing it with her own then sliding past it to learn his contours, the hardness of his teeth, the softness of the skin around them.
Warmth blossomed between them, the warmth of lovers sated and the promise of passion to follow. Buck held her face cupped in one hand, not doing anything more than kissing her.
She lost herself in that moment, overwhelmed by the tenderness, the delightful knowledge that this might well be the first real kiss she’d ever experienced. The dark confines of the truck disappeared, leaving only Buck and his mouth. Her body still thrummed with the remembered pleasure of an orgasm that had shaken her world. But her mind and her heart relished the simple joy of a man’s mouth on hers, a man’s hand cradling her cheek and a man’s warmth enveloping her.
Finally they parted on a sigh.
“Mmm. Nice.” He whispered the words as he stroked her cheek then let her go. “I can’t let this stop here, Lian. I won’t.”
She gazed at him. “I don’t want it to either. But it’s complicated, Buck.”
“I know.” He seemed to pull himself together, shaking off the sensual tenderness and becoming once again the cop on the case. “First things first.” Reaching for the keys, he withdrew them from the ignition and nodded at her door. “If you’re ready, let’s go inside and deal with the case. For now we work. Later, we…” His lips turned up wickedly at the corners. “Later, we’ll play with that demon of yours.”
Unused to such blunt honesty, Lian could only follow his orders. “Okay.”
They walked quietly across the empty garage to the elevators. She couldn’t think of anything to say that hadn’t already been said and sensed Buck’s thoughts turning back to the murders. She simply took comfort from his presence at her side.
It wasn’t until they reached the squad room and found the captain frowning over the latest crime scene photos that he finally spoke.
“Cap, Herrick here thinks she may have picked up on something.”
“What?” The captain’s head snapped up.
Lian lifted her chin. “We both sensed much the same sort of thing that Detective Shand felt at the earlier scene. The lust, the hunger to feed, the overwhelming sexual urges.”
“So?”
Sh
e didn’t mistake the captain’s curtness for anything other than what it was, a man desperate to do his job and stop such senseless butchery. “I have some limited cognitive abilities of my own. What I felt was a creature driven by lust. The killing? That may not have come from him.”
The captain frowned and motioned to chairs. “Sit. Explain.”
Lian wearily took a seat and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not sure how to describe it. You’ve seen the photos. It was bad, as bad as it gets, I reckon.”
Buck nodded. “I’ve never seen worse, Cap.”
“You don’t have to tell me. In all my years, I’ve never seen worse either. Go on.”
She marshaled her thoughts. Neither man would appreciate a lengthy exposition. “It’s my opinion that this creature, whatever he—it—is, wants the sex. The urge to kill is coming from elsewhere, a direction to its mind, perhaps. An exploitation of its instincts. I don’t know. There’s a conflict I sensed, a confusion when the killing begins. Almost as if it’s being told what to do from that point on.”
The captain frowned. “How the hell is that possible?”
Buck shrugged. “Who knows? At this point, after seeing that slaughter, I’m ready to believe anything. To take a stab at any crazy notion if it gets us close to stopping these killings.”
“So we’ve got a creature that seems invisible and leaves no DNA or forensic evidence after having savage sex and then ripping girls to pieces. And now you’re telling me that the sex is one thing and the killing’s another?”
“Yes.” Lian stared at him. “As insane as it sounds, yes. I think this whatever it is is being controlled. Being forced to kill. The sexual urge is incredibly strong, and there’s violence mixed in to it, no question. But I doubt it would go as far as it has without a nudge from something or someone else.”
Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 Page 18
