by Kathy Lyons
“Okay,” she said. “This way, gentlemen.” She started escorting them away but then paused long enough to wink at him. “Break a leg, Josh.”
He grinned at her. “Thanks.” He watched as she led them to seats in the front row, far left. They got there just in time, because a moment later the doors opened and people filed in. People, fairies and elves, heroes and heroines from a wide variety of literature, and a whole bunch of Star Wars and Star Trek characters. Not everyone was in costume, though. Some people didn’t bother until tomorrow, but the cool ones did. And Savannah was front and center in her Wednesday Addams outfit. Thank God he’d reserved her seat, because otherwise she’d have been stuck in the far back.
He wanted to wave to her but couldn’t step out from behind the curtain, so he distracted himself from his nerves by checking out costumes and hot guys. No one compared to the warrior who ought to have gone with the centurion costume, assuming his name really was Nero. It just made sense. What didn’t track was the way the guy was sitting mountain-still in his seat, his expression so tight it could have been carved.
What was up with that? It was just an opening ceremony show.
And even more bizarre was the Wiz next to him. The guy had his nose in a cheap three-ring binder, moving his lips as he read. No kidding. Josh could see it from the stage. The guy’s mouth was moving as he read whatever was in his hands.
Then the show started. David Jenkins, the president of MoreCon, stepped onto the stage and spoke into the microphone. The guy was in his late forties, gay, and had the most amazing anime collection Josh had ever seen. Josh had been to his house a few times for viewing parties that came complete with great nachos. David and his partner, Glen, were the living example of a healthy gay couple. They weren’t weird or cartoonish. Glen was an accountant, David owned a couple of Taco Bell franchises, and they loved each other, which was more than Josh could say about his own parents. It was what Josh aspired to have some day: quiet, suburban anime parties with his sweet husband. Though he wouldn’t be opposed to some hot flings with a mountainous guy in stripper pants along the way.
David finished the greeting, listed important changes to the programs, and introduced the fandom guest of honor. He was a minor character in a long-running TV show, but it was the most the con could afford, and two minutes into the guy’s self-important chatter, Josh got his cue.
He stumbled onto the stage as if he was drunk. He had his staff in one hand and an empty goblet, which he turned upside down so everyone could see it was empty.
“Get to the important stuff!” he cried. “Where can a humble wizard get a drink?”
Grinning, David went back to the mic. “Well, the bar is right through those doors—”
“Never mind. I’m a wizard, right? I can conjure my own drink!”
“Um… I don’t think you should be doing magic, sir. You’re clearly not fit—”
“Fit, Schmidt!” Josh pointed and winked at one of the con regulars, Tom Schmidt, who waved from the fourth row. “I’m as fit to cast magic as a Schmidt!” He really put some gusto into Tom’s last name, making sure to spit a bit as he slurred the name.
Everyone thought it was funny, Tom included, and so Josh got ready to detonate the least of his pyrotechnics: a small explosion from a lined pocket on the outside of his cape.
“Spirit of the grape,” he intoned as he held his goblet high, “the grain, and the hop.” He did a little hop at that. “Refill and renew my goblet, and not with pop!”
He pressed the detonation button, and sure enough, his pocket exploded with a shower of sparkles.
“Oops!” he said to everyone’s amusement. “That’s not what I meant at all.” He peered owlishly into his empty goblet, but as he did so, a strange heat began deep in his belly. It was a weird sensation, like inferno-sized acid reflux, only lower and with accompanying cramps. Was he getting sick? Had some of his more dangerous chemicals spilled out of an inside pocket?
It was alarming to be sure, but he was in the middle of his big moment. Although he felt like he was about to vomit, he locked it down and tried to go on with the show.
Just like they’d planned, David scrunched up his face in mock alarm. “I really don’t think you should be doing that—”
“Riddikiiiieeeee!”
He’d meant to say, “Riddikulus!” but the word burned like fire in his throat and became a scream of agony. That killer heartburn exploded through his body, setting his nerves on fire. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of his head, and his gaze shot to Savannah’s. Her mouth was open and she looked worried, but everyone else around her was grinning. He was about to vomit his lunch all over the stage, and they thought it was part of the show.
At least David knew this wasn’t planned. He stepped forward, a look of concern on his face. “Josh—”
Lightning struck him. It wasn’t real lightning, but that’s what it felt like. Electricity shot through his body, making every muscle tighten unbearably. His head flew back, and he screamed as his bones snapped from the strain. Spine, hips, legs. Crackle, crackle, pop.
He collapsed to the floor, the pain making his vision burst with stars. His cape fluttered down across his back, but it didn’t fit right and slid to the side of his body. His mind was white with agony, and he tried to cry out, but no sound emerged.
He felt his jaw unhinge, his mouth and face burst apart. He could hear the audience gasping, but he couldn’t see. Damn it, he couldn’t see! And then he completely dissolved. As if he melted into air while his body shifted horribly, and everything felt wrong, wrong, wrong. It wasn’t pain so much, but his hands, legs, face all stretched or compressed or just plain broke. At least that’s what his mind was telling him, while everything also felt completely incorporeal. Like he was energy soup and not form at all, except suddenly, he coalesced. He had a body and it was hunched on all fours. Well, that was good, right? He tried to straighten up, but he couldn’t stand.
Then the audience burst into thunderous applause.
What. The. Fuck? He was dying, and they applauded?
He turned his head, and now that his vision was clearing, he could see everything. People clapping, elves laughing, movement everywhere, but where the hell was Savannah? He found her eventually, though all the standing and clapping was blinding him. She was there, right where she’d been, with her mouth ajar and her eyes huge.
Savannah!
He screamed out her name. She needed to call 911. He needed a doctor. But what happened shocked him to his bones.
He heard a howl instead of her name. And he felt the noise come from his own throat.
He skittered backward, startled and confused. And as he moved, he saw paws. Big, thick dog paws where his hands should be. And his footing was fouled in clothing and shoes that fell off him. The audience was starting to whistle their approval. Fucking idiots!
He glared at them, trying to speak. He had to make them understand!
He heard a growl and felt his lips pull back. The clapping faltered, and no wonder. The sound was rabid.
He felt his body tense and his ears flatten. He stepped free of the fabric around his feet and howled again. He was already salivating from the hunger that churned through his stomach.
Then something tightened around his neck and jerked him back. The feeling was abrupt, it choked him, and he wheeled around at the thing that held his neck.
It was a leash… held by Doctor Strange. And in front of him, smiling at the crowd, was the warrior.
“That was impressive, wasn’t it?” Nero said to the crowd. “But now we have to get the wolf back to the zoo. Can’t believe he escaped like that. Ha. Ha.” He waved and started backing away.
Doctor Strange hauled on the collar and dragged him backward as if he was a dog. A fucking dog!
Josh leaped, teeth bared. He was going to bite off the damned hand holding—
Electrical shock jolted through him. Real electricity exploding out from his neck and frying his neurons. And whil
e he was twitching from the torture device, Nero squatted down. Josh saw the hypodermic a split second before Nero shoved it into his side.
He growled when it went in, but what he heard was more of a whine.
Fogginess came quickly after that, a numbing weakness that softened his mind and made his whole body go limp. But he was still awake enough to feel Nero lift him up and carry him off stage.
Help me! Savannah!
He listened from a distant place as Nero’s heavy tread made it through the hotel lobby. He smelled the man’s scent and felt the muscles strain under Josh’s weight. But most of all he heard the bastard’s words as he walked.
“You’re going to be okay, Josh. There’s no easy way to say this, but you’re a werewolf. It’s a grand thing, really, and now you work for Wulf, Inc. See? I told you we were here to give you a job offer. Congratulations. You’re going to love it.”
With the last of his fading strength, Josh opened his mouth and bit straight through the bastard’s throat. Then the world went dark.
NERO REARED backward as far as he could go without dropping the unconscious wolf, who weighed a metric ton.
“Did he try to rip out my throat?” he gasped.
Wiz chuckled. “Serves you right for cradling him like a baby. I’d bite you too.”
“And get a mouthful of lycanthropy.” Not that it would matter, but still…. “Am I bleeding?”
“Nothing to worry about. Burn your shirt when you get back.”
He was going to do that anyway. God, he’d never live down wearing a kitschy fake leather vest, but it was the cheapest costume they could find on short notice. He knew Wiz had taken pictures. Fortunately the guy tended to short out modern electronics, and so it was even odds that the digital image would survive his wizardly aura.
“I can’t believe that spell worked,” he said as he looked at Wiz. “Can you activate anyone with the werewolf gene?”
Wiz shrugged as he opened the back of their van. Gelpack was in the driver’s seat looking like he was staring straight ahead, but Nero knew the alien saw and heard everything they did, no matter where his head was facing.
“According to Mr. See-Thru”—Wiz gestured at Gelpack—“I can turn anyone with the right energy signature.” That was vague, but pretty much what Nero had expected. He waited while Wiz opened the reinforced cage inside the van. As gingerly as he could, he set Josh down, mentally apologizing to the guy the whole time. It was bad enough to be surprise-converted into a wolf in front of all your friends, but to be caged afterward was rubbing salt into the wound. Sadly, it was the only way, and he had more wolves to collect this weekend.
From the front seat, Gelpack twisted his head—just his head—around to face them. Nero didn’t like having a gelatinous being as their driver, but he had too much to do to take the wheel as well. Especially since he was going to O’Hare airport and Gelpack was taking Josh to their facility in Michigan. “How long will he be unconscious?”
“About twenty hours,” said Wiz as he locked the cage and slammed the back door shut. “He’s going to wake up spitting mad and hungry. We’ll try to be back by then, but no promises.”
“I will talk to him when he wakes,” said Gelpack.
And wouldn’t that put the cap on poor Josh’s weekend? To wake in a cage and be “talked to” by a see-through guy. The brass claimed that this would be less traumatic than the usual wolf manifestation. They said it was better to change around people who knew how to keep you safe—and caged—than to unexpectedly transform and kill your nearest and dearest. They had a point, but it still sucked.
“Why are you looking so down in the mouth?” Wiz poked him as they settled into the back seat. “This went off without a hitch.”
“I doubt Josh will see it that way.”
“Josh will adjust. We all did.”
Yeah, but everyone else wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Josh. Nero had gone to the conference, expecting to meet a stammering guy with thick glasses and bad acne. Instead he’d met a funny guy with a flirtatious smile who wasn’t in the least bit fazed by two big costumed baddies trying to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Josh had laughed and let them sit in the front row. Nero had half hoped the guy would make good on his threat to kick them out. That would have delayed them, and Josh could have at least finished his act, but they had a timetable to keep and couldn’t wait.
“Cheer up,” Wiz said as he peered behind him. “He’s not dead yet. No signs of rejection or fever. With any luck he’ll wake up healthy and hale just in time for Gelpack to scare the shit out of him.” He turned to the alien with a grin. “Can you eat something especially bloody and forget to wear a shirt? That always makes an impression.”
Gelpack answered in an honest deadpan. “My digestive system is not up to meats yet. But I will try some red Jell-O.”
“Perfect,” Wiz said with a grin.
Great. If the werewolf curse didn’t kill Josh, his new teammates surely would.
Chapter 5
NERO FELT a weird kind of euphoria. It might have had something to do with being up for three days straight, but it was more likely because every single one of the new recruits had survived the transformation to wolf.
Every single one, including a surprise recruit, thanks to Gelpack. Nero didn’t understand what the alien had done, but it had worked. Wiz said he made adjustments to the activation spell. Words, tones, something that seemed completely insignificant to Nero but apparently made a world of difference. He’d also insisted that the recruits be brought here to the cage room in the basement as soon as possible instead of closer interim facilities. Good thing too, because two of the recruits had spiked fevers and gone into seizures within an hour of getting to Michigan. Everyone had written off the wolves then, because once the seizures hit, there was nothing anyone could do. But Gelpack had stared at them for an hour and the wolves had eventually settled.
It was a flat-out miracle, and Nero would never again speak of the gelatinous alien as anything but a blessing, even if he was now sitting in board shorts and nothing else in front of Josh Collier’s cage. Worse, he had taken Wiz’s suggestion seriously and there was a bright red Jell-O smear where his stomach should be in his otherwise tannish-clear body.
Gross.
“I came as soon as I could,” Nero said as he walked into the huge concrete room of steel-reinforced cages. He noted with pleasure that four of the five wolves were sleeping deeply. That was the most healing thing for them. It was the fifth who had him concerned.
Josh Collier. The charming blond-haired geek boy was now a black timber wolf with white along his lips. That made his snarling, growling fury all the more frightening because the white made his teeth look bigger, sharper, and scarier. Nero had seen his fair share of furious wolves, so Josh shouldn’t scare him. He shouldn’t, but damn it, this wolf radiated rabid fury like he’d never seen. Hatred burned through his burnt orange eyes, and even the drool looked malevolent. Then he noticed that the steel bars of the cage were bent.
“Did he break his cage?” No wolf should have the strength to do that.
“No,” Gelpack answered. “He bent the bars. They should not break. He is too near exhaustion to finish the task.”
Really? Josh didn’t look exhausted. He looked tense, blindly furious, and—
Wham.
Nero flinched as Josh rammed the cage bars. He’d leaped straight into them with claws extended at Nero and jaws that latched on to the bars like they were a filet mignon. And when he couldn’t crush them, he shook his head, growling and pulling on the metal as if to tear them apart.
The sight was bad enough, but the sounds…. Guttural animal hatred formed into an endless roll of snarls and growls. Not a single bark or howl. That would be too polite. And Nero had no doubt that if the bars broke, Josh would make those same sounds while ripping out their throats.
“How long has he been like this?”
“Since he woke several hours ago.”
<
br /> Hours? Oh hell. He searched the creature’s eyes, hoping for a sign of sanity, some spark of human rationality beneath the animal hatred. He found nothing, which meant Josh’s mind was gone. The brilliant chemist was lost to the beast.
“What does Captain M say?”
“To euthanize him. No one has come back from this level of fury before.”
Even though he’d already guessed that, the words sank like a stone into his gut. He’d done this to Josh. He’d been the one to select him for the team, to stand by while Wiz activated his DNA, to plan every second of the operation that brought Josh to this rabid animal state.
His stomach cramped like a vise and he dry-swallowed to fight the pain. It didn’t help. Nothing would help, especially when he added the mental image of putting a couple of bullets into the wolf’s brain. God, he didn’t want to add one more death to his already black soul. Meanwhile Gelpack kept speaking, his voice the same monotonous underwater burble that he always had.
“Her orders are there.” Gelpack pointed to the clipboard attached to the misshapen cage. Nero didn’t have to read them to know they told him to end Josh’s life as quickly as possible. It did no good wasting resources on someone who would never come back, not to mention the danger to everyone in keeping Josh alive.
“Isn’t there something you can do?” he asked. It was a vain hope. Gelpack would already have done it if he could, but Nero was looking for any possibility, no matter how small. “You stabilized the other two.”
“Your minds are a mystery to me. That is why I am here.”
Nero pounced on the distraction. “You’re here to study our minds?”
“Thoughts and emotions are unknown to me. I studied for a hundred of your years to learn your language.”
“A hundred?” he said weakly. “How old are you?”
“Without bodies, we do not age. I am the only one of my kind to attempt a body, so perhaps I will age now too.”
Nero didn’t have a response to that and had nowhere to go except back to Josh. “Have you tried talking to him?”
