by Sarah Noffke
Mika balled up his fists and then slammed them on his desk. Everything Olento was working on could wait. Catching the werewolves was his top priority. He’d finally done it. Finally created the perfect assassins. Well, they’d be perfect once their rebellious spirit was stripped out of them. He had finally created the ancient mythological werewolf. Mika was so close. And he wouldn’t stop until every single experiment was returned to him. He’d kill anyone who got in his way.
Chapter Eleven
“All Olento departments are subject to an impromptu evaluation and all budgets will be audited biannually.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
The rumbling sound seemed to echo off the stone walls of Connor’s cell. He was pretty certain he was starting to hallucinate from hunger pains. His stomach couldn’t be as loud as he thought it was. But the incessant aching in his being wouldn’t be ignored. One meal a day wasn’t enough anymore. He eyed his wrist, which was bony now where it used to have meat around it. And although it was dark, his night vision made it so he could see how skinny he’d become. His pants were now rolled over three times at the waist. Had it been a month? Two months? He had tried to count at first but lost track, usually because he’d sleep through the day. When he awoke he didn’t know if a day had passed or an hour.
In the corner three lonely MREs sat. The stack, which used to tower beside the wall, was now just a few inches high. The discarded MRE containers sat outside his cell, where he’d discarded them after licking every morsel of food from the tray. And what was the point of trying to preserve himself at this point? No one was coming back. There was little hope for Connor. He’d wished that whatever had happened to the werewolves who broke out of this place would happen to him. Had they mutated even more than before? From studying the lab, it appeared one or more of them had been strong enough to tear their cage doors from their cells. Maybe Connor was too weak, or maybe he didn’t have a special power, because he’d been unsuccessful with trying to pry his cage door off. He was fast, strong, and agile, but it wasn’t enough to free him.
Connor settled himself on his bed, trying to ignore the putrid smell radiating from the corner. The toilet had stopped up a few weeks ago, and he had few ways to remedy the situation. Things were just about as bad as they could be for the lone wolf. Connor closed his eyes, wishing he was at a Brazilian buffet, the kind with endless rows of meat. Skewed steaks, cooked to the perfect temperature. Dripping with juices and still bloody in the center. And then, in an instant he was racing through the silver tunnel.
The experience between waking and sleeping was always the same now. For the longest time the process of dreaming had been preempted by a delivery device of sorts. A metallic tunnel. It deposited him in the exact place he’d wished to go. The dreams were always like this. He’d just make an intention and then he’d be in Honolulu or back home in Portland. Connor had heard of lucid dreaming, but this was more than that. What he did with his dreams felt real. The destinations seemed real. The people in the steakhouse now appeared real. They didn’t pay attention to him, didn’t seem to register that he was there. The patrons just spoke happily and cut into their steaks, not realizing all they were taking for granted.
Connor peered over a stocky gentleman’s shoulder, wishing he could smell the chunk of porterhouse the man was about to dunk in garlic butter. And then his stomach rumbled so violently that it tore him out of his dream. He jerked up from the bed, clutching his stomach which felt like it was tearing itself in two.
It was too soon to eat again. He was trying to stretch it to every other day, but this pain couldn’t be ignored any longer. Connor pushed up from his bed and with an agile grace he’d only recently inherited he picked up the MRE on the top of the small stack. And then his mind was assaulted by a stream of information. He knew where this meal had been packed, who had touched it, and had an instant vision of where it had been before it came to his cell. Somehow just by touching the object, he knew everything about its life. What a strange thing to know, he thought.
Chapter Twelve
“Instinct is one of our greatest assets and all employees are encouraged to use theirs when making department decisions.”
- Lucidite Employee Manual
Rox pulled the pastel pink tank top away from her midsection, trying and failing to cool down. Why the fuck was it one hundred degrees in Phoenix? It was September. What was wrong with this city? She watched from a rooftop of a dry cleaner’s shop as Zephyr scrutinized a woman getting into her car. This block was deserted at the current moment, since it was getting on to sunset and the businesses in this district closed promptly at five o’clock. Rox didn’t understand people who worked eight-to-five jobs. She also didn’t understand people who couldn’t wait to get off work. What was the point in living a life where one hated their job? The twenty-five-year-old FBI agent had worked sixteen-hour days for as long as she could remember. Usually she spent her dream travel time working as well, sometimes putting in a twenty-hour day.
Rox knew that Zephyr, who stood in the dark alleyway below her, was watching the woman. His stance had sharpened when the woman with dark brown hair, pulled up in a high bun, had left the ballet studio. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she locked the front door and carried her bags, probably containing her leotard and tights, to her car.
It hadn’t been hard to find Zephyr. Rox knew from Adelaide’s notes that the man had been dating a Ms. Stephanie Karen. First of all, girls named Stephanie were never likable by Rox’s standards. They usually had high-pitched voices and had never read a book before. And secondly, when people had first names as last names it was just annoying.
Zephyr turned for the dark alley just as the Toyota Corolla switched on its lights and began backing out of the parking space. Rox took off at a sprint and leapt over the side of the building and fell straight to the concrete of the alley. As she had intended, she landed in a crouched position, just in front of Zephyr, not a single muscle or bone broken. Having super resistance made it so she could always make an awesome entrance.
At Rox’s sudden appearance, Zephyr bolted into a fighting stance, his eyes suddenly glowing in the dark of the alley. He could have run, but he wasn’t the flight kind of guy, Rox knew from studying his file. Zephyr Flournoy was a fighter. However, he also measured up his opponent before throwing a haphazard punch. It’s what had made him one of the best in the Special Forces.
Rox rose to a standing position, mimicking Zephyr’s fighting stance. He could probably give her a pretty good fight, but even in his werewolf state he couldn’t pierce her skin with his fangs. However, she was absolutely looking forward to finding out what the alpha wolf looked like when he changed.
Rox wanted Zephyr to know from the beginning that she was here to put a collar on him and that she was in charge. That was why she stepped forward on her front foot and then swung her back leg around at his head. Zephyr ducked before the assault connected with him and launched at the girl, throwing a closed fist straight at her torso. Rox, who had been trained in multiple martial arts and had been sparring since she could walk, allowed the punch to connect. This was how she was going to prove she was in charge. The assault pushed her back a foot, but didn’t create a look of pain on her face. She hadn’t even felt it. It was then that she realized he wasn’t really fighting her. Rox knew this man had the strength to truly push her back and yet, he was taking it easy on her. That wasn’t going to work.
Zephyr, looking momentarily shocked that the girl was unaffected by his blow, stepped back, striking a fighting stance again. With his fist up in front of his face, he said, “What do you want?”
Rox smiled, enjoying the curious tension laced into his tone. He had a gruff voice that she instantly liked. Instead of giving him a proper answer she threw her own punch at his face, not returning the favor and taking it easy on him. With a quick reflex, Zephyr blocked the oncoming assault, pushing her hand to the side and then in a blur of movements he seized her other wrist. With a
force that made Rox hold her breath he spun her around, his arms around her neck, his body pressed to her back. She could drop to her knees and sling him over her back, but instead she just smiled.
“I know what you are,” she said through a few steadying breaths.
Zephyr peered at the girl from the side, his face arranging into a look of confusion. “You don’t know anything,” he said to the stranger he still had in a lock.
“Oh, Wolfy, I know all about you,” Rox said with a laugh.
“Then why would you provoke me?” Zephyr said, his eyes astonished that this was even happening. There was a true offense in his voice, like Rox had in a suicide attempt stepped in front of him while he was driving.
“I’m here to help you,” Rox said, loosening her hands from his grasp. He allowed it and Zephyr released her at once. It was the casual note to Rox’s voice that probably made him untense and step back.
“Do you always jump people you’re trying to help?” he said as she turned around to face him.
Rox brushed off her skinny jeans and rearranged her tank top so her bra wasn’t showing anymore. The altercation had nearly messed up her appearance. She might even have sweat on her brow line, she thought, wiping her palm across her forehead. However, the whole thing had gone easier than she thought and now Zephyr was staring at her with only slight trepidation. This was a man who was looking for help. He was desperate for it.
“Well, since I was considering knocking you out and taking you in, I think I’ve shown great kindness by simply having a friendly fight with you,” Rox said, now really studying Zephyr since he was up close. It was hard to make out the details of his features in the dark, but she did notice that his lips were full and nicely framed by the short beard and mustache he wore. Usually she thought men with beards looked old, but despite the silver threads in his beard and hair he still looked young. And he wore the beard well, almost like it accented his face.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Zephyr said, stepping back, taking in the girl in front of him.
“I work for the FBI and the Lucidites and I’m here to help you. Something has been done to you and many other men. If you come with me then I can take you to people who will give you answers and protect you,” Rox said, pulling her FBI badge from her back pocket and flashing it at Zephyr.
In a blur of movement he grabbed the badge, studying it easily with his night vision. “Who are the Lucidites?” he said, handing the badge back.
She shook her head at him, rolled her eyes. “You’re a monster, who from everything I can ascertain is pretty confused about what you’ve become. You’ve abandoned your life and even though you’re a medaled captain in Special Forces you’re working security at a shady pharmacy in the ghetto. Really? You’re asking dumb questions instead of immediately taking me up on my offer of help,” Rox said, clicking her tongue at him. “What a dumb dog,” she added.
“Well, as you obviously know, since you’ve obviously been watching me, I’m not really in a position to trust people,” he said. “Not even people sporting FBI badges.”
“Look, I get that you were abducted, although we don’t know by whom. I’m guessing they experimented on you. We have reports of multiple werewolf sightings. So connecting the dots, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s happened to you,” Rox said.
Zephyr tossed his hand though his silver and black mane, which did little to corral the hair that was gelled up high. “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” he said.
“Although I’d love to coddle you through this introduction with trust exercises, I don’t think we have the time for that. My organization has had an eye on this case. We’re here to intervene and stop whoever did this to you—”
“I don’t know who did this to me,” Zephyr said, cutting her off, his voice reeking with pent-up frustration.
“Well, that’s why I need you to come with me. We can’t help you and the other men unless you fill in some blanks. And we’re not going to be able to catch these people who did this to you unless we get out of this damn alley,” Rox said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She was growing tired of this conversation and hoping to soon leave this place that smelled like a rotten tuna sandwich.
“You want me to go with you where? To the FBI?” Zephyr said.
“Fuck no. This case is way beyond their capabilities. I’m going to take you to the Lucidite Institute. The Lucidites are your only hope right now,” Rox said.
Chapter Thirteen
“Experimentation is synonymous with evolution. We only progress by experimenting.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
Defeated. That one word perfectly described Adelaide. In life, at work, at home. She felt utterly defeated by all aspects of her life. The redhead closed her eyes again. Focused. “Everything is energy,” she whispered to herself. “I can do this.” However, when Adelaide opened her eyes she was still standing physically in the same place in her room where she’d been, not where she’d intended to teleport, three feet away.
“Damn it to hell,” she said, grabbing her father’s book off the desk and flipping to the section on teleporting. Ren Lewis wasn’t badass enough with controlling minds, having powers to hypnotize, and telepathy linked to touch. During his forty-plus years on the Earth he’d also learned how to teleport and create illusions in the physical realm. Why a man like that would kill himself was unfathomable to most, but Adelaide knew the truth. He did it for love. And if her father’s plan to break into the Land of Souls worked, then he’d already broken back out and he and his soul mate were living in the dreamscape somewhere. That was the dimension where Dream Travelers took their consciousness when they dream traveled. It was identical to the physical realm, but had a different set of laws. For months Adelaide had wished she could find her father in the dreamscape since those dream traveling can interact there, but covering the vast earth in a single night trying to run into a specific person was hopeless. Her father was lost to her. Whereas Ren was dead to the world at large, to Adelaide he was a ghost she could not find. She just knew he had to be out there.
Adelaide’s eyes scanned the text that she thought she should have memorized by now; however, deciphering her father’s words was like reading a different language:
“Teleporting works similarly to the technique used for creating illusions. You’re pulling from already present energy to manifest something that doesn’t really exist. In some ways you’ll find that illusions are harder because you’re creating that which isn’t real. With teleporting you’re only pulling your already existing energy to a new location using the fabric of consciousness.”
Well, that doesn’t sound complicated, Adelaide thought. She wasn’t sure why she was even starting with teleporting. It was considered incredibly dangerous. Deep down she knew she should start with something that didn’t have the possibility of severing her body from her consciousness. Or mangling her physical body if she made a mistake. Or making her disappear altogether, never to be seen again, stuck forever in the cosmos. Her father had also detailed how to hypnotize and create illusions; however, her constant feelings of defeat made it so she wanted to score a big win. Rox had come up with a viable strategy for working the werewolf case. She needed to create more advantages for herself. When they traveled to Phoenix tomorrow it would be badass if she could teleport there instead of dream traveling to a GAD-C and generating her body, the common method that the Lucidites employed for travel. Rox probably doesn’t even know about that option since she’s a dumb FBI agent.
However, Adelaide had been trying and failing to successfully teleport all evening. She wasn’t sure why this act of defeat surprised her so much. Again her eyes scanned the pages of the book.
“Belief. It’s the major prevention to a successful teleportation. You first learn the science behind teleporting and then you believe you can.”
So did Adelaide really believe she could teleport? Was her doubt the problem? She thumped herself on her
bed, making a pillow fumble over the edge and fall on the ground. Of course she didn’t think she was prepared or ready for teleporting. It had probably been why she started with it, because she was obviously looking for further self-loathing opportunities.
With a tired sigh she made for the door to her room. The little redheaded boy’s eyes widened as soon as he set them on her. Lucien had been standing in the middle of the living room, but ran for the man putting linens away in the front closet.
“NO! Mummy’s here!” the two year old child said, wrapping his arms around the older man’s leg.
“Oh, Lucien,” Pops said, reaching down and picking up the boy.
It had been like this ever since Ren died. Adelaide’s child was scared of her. Yes, she’d gone into a major depression after her father died. Yes, she refused to hold Lucien when he ran to her, often pushing him away, unable to bear comfort. And yes, she’d even yelled at him on occasion. But she had just lost her father and in the worst way. Ren Lewis had chosen to die. He in effect committed suicide and his conversation with Adelaide had been his last. How was she supposed to open her heart to anyone after experiencing that kind of trauma? And now Lucien, her own son, ran when he saw her. Maybe he, like her, was afraid of being rejected again. Afraid to get close to a woman who would only hurt him with neglect.
Adelaide forced a smile. “Hey, Pops. Do you need help with chores?” she said, pointing at the towels neatly folded and sitting on the arm of a plaid chair.
