by L. E. Horn
The man bared his teeth after the plunger went in. “Always wanted to tap into my inner werewolf.”
I just about choked, and beside me, Danny froze. He knew it was no joke.
Danny was next. He closed his eyes as the needle when in, but his face remained stoic. By the time I stepped up to the plate, my heart hammered like a jackrabbit’s. I had no way of knowing if this extra exposure would push me over some kind of edge, and I hoped that my body would establish a new balance. Could be worse. I could be sitting in a cage right now. Or dead.
With a brief sting, the virus shot home. I stepped away, meeting Danny’s eyes. The kid’s were chaotic and his face stiff, so I granted him a broad grin before peeling my lips back in a parody of a snarl.
He tweaked an eyebrow at me, but his expression calmed a fraction.
Ace leaned against a wall. I hesitated, thinking this through. The safest course was for me to blend into the group, to do nothing that might draw attention. But, even as those thoughts passed through my mind, my feet took me toward the big wulfan. So much for common sense.
He watched me come with an impassive expression. “Something I can do for you?”
“These changes,” I began, waving a hand as though groping for the words. “You and Dr. Smith mentioned that we’ll learn to control them. Is there anything we can do to help with that?”
“What did you have in mind?” The gaze sharpened as he stared at me, and I practically heard him thinking.
I cleared my throat and shifted from foot to foot. “In my past life, I was an art and science teacher. I have a basic understanding of anatomy. Would visualization help when we change?”
I sensed Danny come up behind me. “If we understood how our body had to change, that might help.” He sounded eager, and I realized he felt responsible for leading many of the men into this mess.
Ace’s intense gaze bored holes in me as I waited for his reply. Finally, he pushed himself upright. “Worth a try,” he said.
“I can teach the others the basics of anatomy,” I suggested.
The wulfan nodded and shrugged. “You might as well make use of the time you have, while the serum works on you. If some here want to listen to you, that’s their choice.”
“Would you mind shifting form again for me? I need to see what’s possible so I can work them through the sequence.”
Ace snorted, but he stripped and went through the change. Silence fell in the room as the other men became aware of what he did.
I pretended to study Ace as he changed. I sensed the tension in the room. When he reverted to human, Danny said, “What happens if you get stuck partway through a change?”
Ace looked at him, and I braced myself.
“You’ll die.” The words fell into the silence, and spines stiffened throughout the room.
Ace sensed it too and paused, one hand on his shirt. “If you heard Picasso here, he’ll give you guys anatomy lessons that might help you with the changes. You might want to sit in on them. It will probably be a better use of your time than playing pool.”
“I’ve an idea where to start,” I told him as he dressed. “I’ll need a whiteboard and markers or some big sheets of paper. Something to draw on.”
The big wulfan’s hands hesitated as he tugged on his jeans. Then he shrugged. “I can get that for you.”
Danny stared at Ace, his expression worried. “Is there anything else you can tell us that might help?”
The wulfan shot the young man a look beneath heavy black brows but didn’t answer right away. Finally he said, “It’s important to control your emotions.”
Really? This is the best these guys can do? No wonder they have wulfleng going postal on them. Their strategy seemed to involve waiting to see who survived the transition, then taking it from there.
I supposed their success rate might not have been so dismal if they were dealing with the regular wulfan virus and not the more aggressive mutant strain. Or if they weren’t starting with traumatized humans who’d spent years on the streets. But put those two together and add a complete lack of support, and it amazed me that any recruits made it through the first stages of the infection.
How much of their attitude had to do with arrogance? These wulfan obviously viewed their recruits as human guinea pigs and didn’t seem to care how many died. Or maybe this was a test of sorts—those of us resilient enough to see this through without support were tough enough to work for them.
Chris’s methods stood in vivid contrast. I’d assumed that all enforcers employed those same techniques, but perhaps Chris was unique. If I can show these guys what Chris taught me, I might be able to save them.
Ace buttoned his shirt. “If you need to speak with me, there will be two men stationed at the elevator doors at all times. You can pass the message to them. The doctor is on call 24/7, and there’ll be a technician available to address any pain or discomfort you may have. I’ll return when you’ve made the transition to a better you.” He gave us a brief smile, then turned and left.
The shell-shocked bunch straggled down the hall, and Danny touched me on the arm. “I’m ready for my first anatomy lesson,” he said. “Lead on, Picasso.”
* * *
To my surprise, all twelve men sat in on the first session. I started by giving my name as Lee Hunt, and asking for names and something about each man, so that we all could get to know one another. Trust has to start somewhere, but even this small request was a struggle. Most mumbled their name, but some gave more information. I accepted whatever they were capable of offering and moved on.
One looked around the table with dark eyes. He was the broad young man who’d spoken during processing. Built like a barn, even his face was square. He reminded me a bit of a young Chris. Unlike most, he looked like he’d managed to keep himself well fed on the streets. Considering the volume of food I’d seen him put away in the cafeteria, it must have required diligence.
“I’m Travis Sanderson,” he said. “And this is my cousin, Lucas.” He hooked a thumb to the slight young man seated beside him. Lucas was half his cousin’s size, although there was a similarity to the shape of their foreheads and eyebrows.
One of the other men spoke up. “You Métis?”
Lucas frowned, but Travis took the question in stride. “Cree. Full-blood.”
His cousin shot him a look. “We think,” Travis amended, as Lucas added something in Cree that made Travis grin.
The man, who hadn’t yet offered his name, sat back. The seat beside Lucas was empty, but in the next one over sat the redheaded mountain of a man. I noticed again how his trunk hung from his huge shoulders like clothing from a hanger, every bone showed. The first fuzz of reddish stubble showed on his scalp and his hazel eyes were bleary and feverish. Too soon for the virus, it must be a reaction to something else—likely drug withdrawal.
Our silence made him look up and he glanced around to realize we stared at him. Color suffused his face. “Nate,” he said in a hoarse voice.
When no other words materialized, I continued on down the table to the tall, thin man. His features, and particularly his eyes, possessed a hardness that made it impossible to judge his true age. The bones of his broad shoulders showed through the fabric of his hoodie. He met my eyes squarely, which proved disconcerting. I found my own alternated between his blue eye and the hazel one.
“Reese.” He raised his chin. “Not Cree. Maybe Métis. The Creator knows, but I don’t. I’m just Reese, apprentice werewolf.”
I regarded him with interest, and I noticed Danny did as well. Reese’s skin and the coloring of his narrow features made him appear Indigenous, but his eyes spoke of some other influence. His comments indicated a certain balanced perspective about life, which might come in handy over the next week.
One of Ace’s wulfleng arrived with a big whiteboard and some large sheets of paper. I started the lesson by comparing human anatomy to that of a dog. I sketched a dog on the board, then stood back and realized I’d drawn Keen. With
an internal sigh, I soldiered on.
Although some of the group listened with interest, a few looked bored about twenty minutes in, and one even got up and left. I wasn’t surprised that I was down to ten participants when we convened again the next morning.
I drew a dog skeleton this time. A dog’s knees are equivalent to human wrists, elbows up near the body, shoulders above that; hock joints are our ankles, knees up near the flank. Dogs stand on the human equivalent of curled fingers. Strip us all down to bones and the similarities became obvious.
Only nine showed up for the afternoon session. Nate was late getting there, but he showed, and sat down, eyes on the table. He didn’t speak a word. I guided them through the anatomical differences, and at the end, gave them homework.
“Ace mentioned that your emotions might be important for the changes. Before our next session, I want you guys to come up with a memory that evokes a response in you, something that made you angry or sad. You don’t have to share it if you don’t want to, but you might need to examine the reasons you feel the way you do.”
Frowns throughout. Chris would have them creating visualization boards, but I couldn’t go there, in case the technique was recognized. How else am I going to get this crew to examine their emotions?
Nate raised his eyes from the table and looked at me. The naked pain in them pierced me to the core. They dropped once again to the table, and I took a deep breath.
“That’s all until tomorrow. Let’s try again in the morning.”
They all stood and began shuffling down the hall to the leisure area. Nate was the last to rise. He kept his eyes averted as he slipped past me and out the door, surprisingly light on his feet for such a big dude.
Wow. The glimpse he’d given me had been straight from the soul. I moved him to the top of my priority list. If I don’t help him, he’s a goner.
The fever hit me that night. I’d hoped to escape it, having already been exposed, but by that evening my body ached, and by midnight I was drenched in sweat. By the moans echoing down the hall, the others felt the effects as well.
Wolves howled and raced through my dreams and clawed at my subconscious, dredging up long-forgotten memories I’d rather keep locked away. One nightmare jolted me awake, the content vaporizing but leaving me shaking in reaction. It wasn’t until I tried to roll over that I realized my left hand possessed claws. They pricked into my belly and made me wince. I almost pulled it from beneath the blanket, before remembering that even our cells had cameras, so I left it where it was and concentrated until the pointy bits removed themselves from my outer layer.
I cursed inwardly. My partials—more accurately, morphing at speed—over the rooftops had left the wulf drained, but it seemed the virus had activated an aggressive takeover, or maybe the fever had just given my shaggy an excuse to seize control. Two days of good food and rest, and it was raring to go. Too bad he had to stay hidden until the next full moon, still days away.
The fever dulled me mentally and made me slow to respond to his bids for power. After another nightmare caused my teeth to drop, I came up with a desperate plan to bury him, at least for a few days. Under the thin blanket, I called up a fast morph. It wasn’t easy without the impetus of an emergency, and the effort left me sweating and shaky. I changed my arms and legs beneath the blanket, held them for about twenty minutes, then reverted them to human. Controlling the wulf remained a challenge, but the alteration removed his compulsion to run as one. I slept like the dead for the rest of the night.
* * *
I lay on my cot as the lights brightened, indicating that somewhere above, daylight arrived. The artificial light kept pace with the natural cycle to give us all some concept of time.
I closed my eyes and reached. I kept trying, but so far, experienced no success contacting Sam. Each failure strengthened the core of panic I struggled to contain. I thought I touched her—barely—enough to know she lived, but was I imagining it? Had the virus struck her down, so that even now, she lay unconscious in a cage? Not knowing made me crazy, and on previous mornings I’d risen and jogged up and down the aisles, attempting to run away from the fear threatening to consume me.
This morning, a brisk walk was the best I managed. My skin burned and my bones ached. It had been three days, and although previous exposure to the virus had not spared me from the fever, it was not as severe as the first time round. Others were not so fortunate. Danny hobbled to the anatomy session—his face flushed bright red as sweat poured from him.
When I dragged myself into the room where Ace had introduced us to our mission, only six men waited for me. Danny, eyes bleary and skin clammy, plus Keith, Travis, Lucas, Reese, and, to my relief, Nate. They formed a quiet, intense human herd, and now they were all sick, but regardless, they came to listen to what I had to say. Or at least, they had permitted Danny to entice them to my class.
I conducted the sessions, aware of the watchers behind the camera mounted in the corner. On the first two days, it had been oriented on me, and today it was canted away. Did anyone listen in?
I leaned on the desk at one end of the room. The walls surrounding us had large sheets of paper taped on them. Each sheet showed bits of human and the corresponding parts of wulf anatomy.
“Now that we’ve studied how they’re made, let’s observe another change.”
I walked to where our wulfleng guard leaned against a wall. “Would you mind changing for us?”
He snorted. “I’m not here to pose for you.”
“It would really help us out.”
He opened his mouth to refuse once more, but his phone rang. He answered, and before he could say anything, I heard Ace’s distinctive baritone. Without replying, he hung up. Glaring at me, he began to strip.
I had to stop my eyebrows from disappearing into my hairline. Ace wished to accommodate me. Either he was open-minded about changing the drill, or someone else was pulling his strings.
We all watched in silence as the wulfleng changed to a huge, muscled creature with impressive claws and teeth. A few men inhaled in surprise.
When the man reverted to human, Danny said, “You’re different from Ace.”
“New and improved model.” the man sneered as he pulled on his clothes. Then he turned away from us, took out his phone, and began tapping on it.
“Is that what we’ll end up looking like?” Reese asked. His eyebrows seemed parked high on his forehead.
I shrugged. “I suspect we’ll all look a little different, because we’re different as humans, too.”
Danny had turned his attention to the drawings. “So, what happens if we get partway through a change and decide to go back to what we were, instead of forward?”
As I did with each question, I hesitated before answering, hoping to look uncertain. “I don’t know. Maybe going back isn’t the greatest idea. You might be better to keep going until one change is complete and then go back if you need to.”
Travis left off chewing on a broad fingernail as square as the rest of him. “Might get messy. End up with a tail in the wrong spot.”
Keith didn’t usually say much, but I often found him glaring at me. I had no idea why, but I caught him glaring at Travis too. Maybe Keith was just angry at the world.
Now he looked at me and snickered. “You’ve talked about everything except our dicks. What happens when we change? Because dogs are different.”
“Keith!” Danny frowned at the smaller man. I wondered at their connection. Keith followed Danny like a shadow, but they seemed such opposites.
Movement from the end of the table—Nate, shooting Keith a dark look.
Undeterred by the mountain of menace, Keith persisted. “No, I wanna know. He knows so much, betcha he doesn’t know that.” He looked at me. “So, do you go dog or human?”
Reese, who always seemed to make a statement at a key moment, rescued us. He had the perfect deadpan expression for it too.
“That’s easy—whichever’s biggest.”
D
anny smiled and Travis threw back his head and bellowed a laugh that sounded like it came from the depths of the earth. He tossed his pencil at Reese, who snatched it out of the air in a lightning move that made my eyebrows climb.
The mood around the table lightened, although Keith resumed his glower.
They were doing well, but I had yet to teach them the most important thing—that strong emotion could be used as a tool to achieve goals. This was dangerously close to using it to trigger the changes—something I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for Chris and my experience with morphing. Experience that Ace and his cohorts knew nothing about.
I had to keep it that way.
16
Aware of the cameras overhead, I faced my semi-devoted cluster of six and prepared to embark on the trickiest part of controlling one’s wulf. Fortunately, Ace had mentioned controlling emotion, and this gave me the opportunity I needed. But I would have to proceed with care.
“Okay,” I said, and six pairs of fever-reddened eyes focused on me. “So we’ve gone over the basic anatomical changes that can occur, now we need to figure out how to control them. Does anyone have any ideas?”
Coming at it from this direction would be a frustrating combination of hit and miss, but it was the best way to keep my secret.
“Why do we have to learn all this?” Keith asked. “Can’t we just decide to change and then let it happen?”
Danny’s brows rose. “Maybe if you want to become an animal. But we’re human, and part of us needs to stay that way. Without the human brain in control, you’d turn into a monster.”
I would have kissed him if it hadn’t led to all kinds of misplaced assumptions. I looked at Keith, whose expression had turned sullen. “In what kind of situation might you need a change to happen?” I asked.
He frowned. “I dunno. Maybe if you’re in trouble?”
“So, you would change form in response to fear?”
He squirmed. “Or maybe I’m just pissed off.”
