by L. E. Horn
The men approached as the fog closed in on me. Too tired to keep up the monologue, I sent Sam a final image: large metal building, off to one side.
Okay, I’ve got it, soldier. Distinctive infrastructure, I should be able to find it. Rest easy, now. A pulse of pure emotion wrapped around her words as the drug sank its fangs into me. I’ll be with you through this, and we will come for you.
Have to get what we need first.
“Christ, Bradford, couldn’t you have got him some clothes? You lot spend far too much time as animals.”
My eyes flickered open to see a stocky man standing in the helicopter’s landing lights as the wulfleng handed me over to two men who, from first sniff, were wulfan.
“Sorry to offend your sensibilities, sir.” Bradford didn’t sound sorry, but his tone contained a measure of respect.
“Not my sensibilities I’m worried about,” commented the newcomer.
“She’s here?” Bradford’s tone changed again, and I caught a hint of something unexpected: fear.
“Just arrived.”
“What brings her out of central?”
“She’s interested in your report.”
Bradford cleared his throat. “I have little time, we’re down a handler.”
“That’s something she wishes to hear about.” There was no mistaking the menace in the man’s voice. “Even if Ace slid off the rails, you weren’t authorized to finish him.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like on that island. If I don’t keep discipline, the entire place could explode.”
“You can explain that to her.”
Her?
Who are they talking about? I had to focus, even with mindspeak.
My question exactly, Sam said, but her voice and presence wavered. I wasn’t sure if it was the drug or if she’d overextended herself trying to keep me awake. My new holders dragged me across the grass, and I drifted, letting the sedative take hold.
If this mystery woman wanted to talk, she’d have to wait.
23
My first awareness was of aching shoulders. I tugged at wrists suspended over my head. Cold air made me shiver—at some point, the discussion to clothe me must have taken a hiatus.
I faded out, and then back in to the distinctive click of high heels on hard flooring. A spicy scent tickled my nose, then something sharp drifted along my naked thigh. My eyes snapped open to stare into icy blue orbs only inches from my own.
Apparently, The Lady was blonde. And gorgeous. Who knew? She smiled, and I’d never seen anything so predatory.
I was hanging naked from the ceiling by my arms, my wrists and ankles in metal manacles more suited to holding an elephant than a werewolf. My toes barely touched the floor, which explained the pain in my shoulders. A quick glance down showed that I was suspended above a narrow pit, with an ominous grating system for easy cleaning.
I glared at the woman standing inches away. The pit dropped me low enough that she could look me in the eye. She had a proprietary expression that made me uneasy.
“Hmm,” she purred. “Pretty, pretty.”
The words annoyed me. Why do people keep calling me pretty? I thought it fortunate that Sam wasn’t in my head at that moment. I likely wouldn’t survive a clash of female wulfan. As it was, I fought back the surge of humiliation as she slid her pointed nails along my body in an increasingly intimate fashion.
“Where’d you get such nasty scars, my pet?” she asked, her voice husky. “Did Ace put you through your paces on that island? Too bad he’s dead, I’d like to have a few words.”
“Doc Breyer sent his file.” Until he spoke, I hadn’t been aware of the other person in the room. With a sideways glance, I recognized the man from the front lawn, now dressed in a lab coat, eyes fixed on a computer monitor that sat on the counter running along one wall. “Lee Hunt. Noah’s last recruit from Winnipeg. Apparently, he was in a serious gas explosion. Sent him through a window.”
Doc Breyer? So much for “Smith.” And someone had been listening when I’d told Danny my story—obviously the showers at processing had been monitored. I experienced a surge of relief that I hadn’t stuck with the train accident wisecrack.
Any enforcer would recognize my scars for what they were. But this female wulfan had likely never seen any kind of combat. Her skin—and I could see quite a bit of it—was smooth and whole. No scars.
“What a shame to scar such a lovely body.” The Lady pursed her lips as she regarded me. “Good thing I like them.”
As her long, but human, fingers wrapped around some personal bits I would rather remain attached, my humiliation turned to anger. I snarled at her.
“What’s the matter, pet?” she smiled again, showing the tips of her fangs. “Don’t you like me?”
I thought of Sam. “I prefer redheads.”
So glad to hear that. I sensed the thunderstorm gathering within me and swallowed.
Easy. I need to get information from her before you make me slice her to bits.
She subsided with some effort, but she continued to growl at the back of my mind.
With a final tweak that made me wince and Sam snarl, the blonde clicked her way to the man at the counter.
“How long until we get the test results?” she asked him.
“Two days for preliminaries. I’m not sure they’ll give us any answers. His reaction to the virus is unexpected.”
The heels clicked my way again, and she tapped her chin with a finger as she regarded me as a cat regards a captured mouse. “So, my friend—Lee. How do you do those super-partials without killing yourself in the process?” She leaned close, running her fingers along my face and resting a nail against the corner of my eye. “I do so want to know.”
Sam’s presence was like fire in my brain, and I forced myself to focus. “Super-partials? What’s a partial?”
She pulled back, and I took a deep breath, as much due to the sudden release of Sam’s hostility as to The Lady’s withdrawal.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” I asked.
The sleek head tilted in a distinctly canine manner. “Well, I guess it’s only fair I offer my name since I have yours. You can call me Lily.” She paced in a small circle, one finger returning to tap her chin. “A partial is when you don’t change fully into a wulf but are more than a human. Wulfan can do easy ones—hands, teeth—but not what you do. Your changes are special. Our cameras caught you doing it twice—once with our special wulf trap and then when you fought our unfortunate handler, Ace.”
Interesting that they hadn’t recognized what I’d done with the bungee against the rock. Perhaps it had been in a camera-dead zone, like the pitfall trap.
“You knew Ace set those traps?”
“There are always traps along the routes for the war games,” she said with a shrug.
“Are they always lethal?”
She frowned at me. “The wulf trap is rarely lethal.”
“What about the pitfall trap with the spikes, and the bungee in the rocks?”
Lily glanced at the other man, then back. “We saw no such traps. Pitfalls are used all the time, but we don’t line them with spikes.” She pulled her lips from her fangs. “It sounds as though Ace crossed a line. Again, so sad he’s dead, I would have enjoyed enforcing some discipline.”
Her expression sent a chill through me—this was one seriously demented woman.
“I will also have a word with Bradford about the camera positions. I do so enjoy watching the minions—all that testosterone, heaving and clawing. But you, my pet—you have been exceptional. You have a brain and know how to use it.”
Her words sent my pulse racing. Lily was the face behind the camera, the one who’d been watching me from the beginning. Her possessive attitude suddenly made sense—she’d invested time in me.
Mine.
The word and the power of the emotion behind it, surprised me. Yes. I’m yours. Remember what you are, my feisty one. You can tear her to pieces after I get the info
we need.
Yes. I will. The imagery surrounding the words made me happy I wasn’t Lily.
The woman in question wheeled back toward me, and I fought a sudden surge of wulf and Sam-rage, a potent combination. Lily walked into my space, her blue gaze intent. “You have the most interesting eyes. They keep changing color, from human to emerald, and then they fade to silver. How interesting.”
Silver?
Lily breathed on me, then in a single fluid move, she kissed me. Before I reacted, her tongue darted into my mouth and then out as I snapped my jaws shut.
Sam raged as Lily pulled back to regard my eyes. “Hmm. Very pretty.”
“Stop calling me pretty.” The rage that crashed around inside me bled into the words, turning them more hostile than I intended.
Stop it, I told Sam.
She kissed you, damn it.
You’re making it impossible for me to do my job.
I got the mental image of Chris grabbing Sam’s arm, and then Sam faded. In a moment, she returned. Sorry. This is hard for me. Chris says keep going.
Well, think about this: Why isn’t she worried about contracting the virus?
I sensed shock from Sam as she digested that. Maybe she doesn’t care?
Maybe she wants to be able to do what I can do.
Sam didn’t reply at first. When she did, her attention had obviously diverted. Garrett thinks he’s found your location on satellite, so we’re checking it out now. Things look different in daylight.
Lily had raised one brow as she watched me. “So many thoughts beneath all that blond hair. What are you thinking, my wulfleng? How about you tell me how you manage the super-partials?”
My shrug sent jabs of agony through my shoulders. I shifted to take more weight on my feet, but with them stretched out, was only marginally successful.
“I could arrange for a more comfortable position,” she purred, “if you would only tell me what I want to know.” Her eyes trailed along my body, hesitating at a key spot that made my face burn. She raised her gaze to mine and grinned, noticing my flushed skin. “Blonds are so much fun.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I blurted. “I just think about it and it happens.”
Her manicured brows drew down as she considered what I’d said. “I watched you teach basic anatomy to your little group of wulves.” She turned to glance at the other man in the room. “Wallace here believes that might have contributed.”
Wallace nodded, but his quick glance to her and away showed me how nervous he was. I empathized with that sentiment for the woman was pure predator. “Visualization could be an important component to the partials,” he said. “They would require a concentrated focus and knowledge of what to change and when.”
The calculating eyes returned to mine. “Do one for me.”
I stared back at her and the wulf in me bristled at the command.
We think we’ve found you, Sam cut in. It’s an old resort along the lake. Sold three years ago. These shots show it surrounded by bush. The clearing is new. Have they been at this that long?
Three years ago? Didn’t that virus doc say that was when they’d found success modifying the wulfan virus?
My God. They’ve been at this since the beginning. Someone in that lab is in on this. I sensed her dismay and anger.
Lily held her hand up to me as she extended small sharp claws, then dropped it to curl around certain dangly bits. “Claws are about as much as I can do,” she said, wiggling them and making me flinch. “Show me how to do more, or you’ll be singing a higher note.”
Sam clued in to what was happening and her reaction didn’t help me maintain calm. For God’s sake, Liam, she already knows. Show her. We’re hours from getting to you, so you’ve got to stall for time.
You just have personal plans for those bits, admit it.
Liam!
I sighed and pushed back the anger, channeling the wulf into an alteration of my face, lengthening my jaws, letting the fangs drop, changing my ears.
Lily released me and watched me with an eager expression, frowning when I stopped. “More. Even I can do the teeth, although I like the jaw thing. Show me more.”
Wallace moved to stand beside her, his eyes intent as he studied me. I enlarged the muscles along my throat and neck, then the ones joining my neck to my shoulders, ceasing when the collarbones popped.
Lily’s eyes dropped to my hands. “I want to see those claws.”
And I’d like to show them to you—minus a few restraints.
Liam.
Okay, okay.
I left my human fingers intact but took my claws past the usual mutant armament. Her eyes widened and the tip of her tongue appeared through her lips as I extended the ten-inch razor claws. She touched one with a finger and observed the drop of blood that formed. “Have you ever seen claws like this?” she asked Wallace.
He shook his head. “I want a sample,” he said, hurrying to a cabinet and rustling around inside a drawer. He emerged with a scalpel and petri dish.
The scalpel didn’t even dent the claws.
“What happens to them when you revert? Do they shed like our hair?” Lily asked.
I nodded and reverted them to normal, hearing the claws drop to the floor with a clatter. Wallace wore a fascinated expression as he picked one up, then swore and dropped it when it cut him. He did more drawer-digging and returned with forceps, with which he moved each claw to the counter.
“I’ll examine these,” he told Lily. “It will tell me if they’re made of regular keratin like our fingernails, or if he’s somehow creating them from something else.”
Lily nodded, still watching me. Something buzzed from her waist, and my eyes dropped as she pulled a phone from a pocket. She strode a few paces away to answer.
“I’m here now. He’s shown us some of the enhanced partials.” A pause. “Wallace got samples, but the results will take time.” Another pause. “You’re coming now?” The male voice elevated on the other end. “We’ve still got three weeks. That’s enough time, if we can figure out what he’s doing. If it’s training . . .” Another pause. “We were going to use Gamma. Omega is still in Iraq. Beta might be better. They’ve just got back from Germany. Alpha team returned tonight, but you know they have issues. We might lose some.” The voice babbled something, and she glanced at her watch. “Very well. I’ll see you then.” She disconnected and turned to me.
“So sorry, my pretty one, I must leave you. Lots to do, so little time. I’m sure Wallace will keep you busy, although you may prefer my company to his.”
Wallace was busy arranging instruments on the counter, some of which appeared sharp.
At least he doesn’t call you pretty.
Yeah. Right. I had to appreciate the attempt at levity, but I swallowed as Lily stepped close and tapped her claws against my chest. “I look forward to learning all your secrets. Once Wallace is done with you, I’ll be back to play.”
I snarled at her.
Her smile showed extensive teeth, and she pivoted to walk through a door that slid into the wall. I glimpsed metal beyond, much like those of the processing facility.
We’re underground.
Satellite shows an extensive field in front of the resort. They might have quite a large complex under there.
What’s your plan?
We’re moving as close as we can by helicopter, but it only takes eight of us at a time. Jason wants to go in under cover of darkness, that means eleven hours before engagement. Can you hold on that long?
Sure, no problem. I eyed Wallace, who had arranged the pointy bits on a rolling cart and pushed it toward me. Did you catch the conversation about Iraq and Germany? They had teams there. And they seem to want this partial thing for something they’re doing in three weeks.
I sensed her unease. Chris believes this might be a lot bigger than we initially thought.
And the wulfan are in it up to their eyeballs. Watch your back. With that many enforcers, it’ll be hard to
hide your plans from the board.
Jason will keep this quiet for as long as he can, but once we shift people into position, they’ll put it together for themselves.
Wallace adjusted the cart next to me and then returned to the drawer for more supplies. You might want to tune out for a while. This won’t be a pleasant afternoon.
Forget it soldier. I sensed her resolve and saw her make herself comfortable on a couch, amid the organized confusion surrounding Chris and Jason in their small cabin. I’m with you every step of the way. Maybe I can distract you.
Wallace lifted a scalpel, set a petri dish on the cart close to my thigh, and began to cut.
I swore loudly and creatively, which he ignored. When the pain triggered my fangs and claws, however, he hesitated.
“Can’t you freeze that or something?” I demanded. “My new girlfriend won’t like it if you damage the merchandise. She likes me the way I am.”
“You dare call her yours?” Wallace’s face contorted with a rage worthy of a mutant. “She’s royalty, and you are not fit to lick her boots.”
He glowered at me, and for a moment I thought he’d stab me with the scalpel. But instead he slammed it down on the table, strode to another drawer, and pulled out a syringe. He then rummaged through the fridge, and emerged with a vial of fluid, from which he filled the syringe. “Wulfleng,” he spat. “Bunch of whiners. You haven’t got a fraction of the backbone of a wulfan.”
Wow. Didn’t expect that reaction.
Some wulfan feel all wulfleng should be put down, admitted Sam.
They created the wulfleng.
Yeah. I know. But discrimination exists even in wulfan.
My interactions with wulfan had shown me those with incredible courage and compassion—the enforcers—and those capable of sickening cruelty. Somehow, I’d missed that most possessed typical human traits. I had to ask.
