Dad Panther (Alien Guardians of Earth Book 3)

by Donna McDonald

  “Still the skeptical scientist, I see. In just a moment, I’ll happily explain the rest to you. Since what’s going to happen to you is beyond your control, I don’t see any benefit from not telling you the whole story.” Dr. Crane waved at the man assisting him. “Proceed with injecting the weeping one on the end. I cannot tolerate a weeping female. She is highly distracting. I can’t talk to Dr. Jones over her constant whining.”

  Ariel’s head whipped over, straining to see the gurney at the end. She saw the woman’s body arch when a plunger was placed at her neck directly on the carotid artery. Whatever was in the injection, they wanted it to hit all parts of her body quickly. To her surprise, the man rolled the woman’s head, and shot a second plunger directly into the woman’s brain stem. The woman seized, strained at her straps, and then fell silent. If the second injection didn’t paralyze her spine, its content would be in every brain cell in less than ten minutes.

  “Now administer the sedative and move Heidi to the last cage. Come straight back and process Brandi next. I’ll take care of Dr. Jones personally.”

  Ariel looked back at the man speaking so calmly. He looked at her and offered a shrug.

  “The sedative is to help keep you calm during the worst of your genetic transmutation. We’re not completely without conscience. I see no need for any of you to suffer more than necessary. Since you’re the first of your kind, we don’t exactly know how much the transpecies mutation process hurts. Our captive wolf shifter has been quite unwilling to share any information, assuming he can still speak in his wolf form. We haven’t been able to ascertain it one way or the other.”

  The woman directly beside her was still as quiet as ever. So far, she had not made a sound. Ariel listened to the gurney with the now unconscious Heidi being pushed to the far end of the room. She listened to a cage door being opened and straps being undone.

  “Please continue your explanation, Dr. Crane. Did I find something important this morning?”

  “Yes, you did. I applaud you for being as smart as your resume indicated. People usually lie on those you know. Somehow I knew right away when we met that you were being honest. It was quite the stroke of luck your blood also showed excellent—most excellent—counts of nearly everything required for the experiment. When I personally saw the metamorphosis strand in your DNA, I was literally as giddy as a schoolboy. The strand is missing from your fellow subjects.”

  “I did my doctoral thesis on the metamorphosis strand. Most in the scientific community don’t even think its real. But I’ve seen it. People who have it tend to die fairly young. It’s one of the reasons I left New England and came here. I wanted to explore the world a little before I came down with some disease I couldn’t survive.”

  “Yes. Human subjects with the strand do tend to die young. But extending your doctoral hypothesis, I also believe the strand has a higher purpose in those who possess it. So when I saw from the extensive health exams Feldspar required that you personally had the strand, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Roger, I said to myself, what would happen if someone extremely intelligent suddenly became a wild animal? Would the person be able to control their carnal nature enough to use their intelligence in their animal form? The chance to discover the truth was just too much to pass up. Now you get to benefit from the very discovery you made this morning, Dr. Jones. It’s too bad the global medical community will never know anything more about you except for the unfortunate accident which burnt your body to ashes today when you went into Anchorage for lunch. Alaskan winters can be terribly challenging on vehicles, as I’m sure your gurney mates can also attest to since they suffered the same fate.”

  Ariel flinched when she heard the woman beside her hiss and swear at the depression of the plunger at her neck. When her brain stem was shot, the woman shrieked loudly and nearly broke the straps with her arching. The sedative calmed the woman instantly, but it had the opposite effect on Ariel. Starting to panic at last, because she knew the same fate would be hers, Ariel renewed her efforts to escape and twisted against her restraints. Unfortunately, she lacked the strength to break them.

  She listened to the second gurney being wheeled down the hall. Again a cage door opened. Moments later, she heard it close and a key turning in a lock.

  “Who gave you the right to do this to us, Dr. Crane? I came to Feldspar to do research for you, not to be your research. What you are doing is illegal and immoral.”

  “I know. I do feel a little bad about hiring you under false pretenses, but your discovery this morning stacked the odds in favor of your participation. My benefactor is most anxious to see some evidence that the transpecies mutation process can work. If even one of you survives the change, he will fund me for at least another two years.”

  “You’re the sickest, sorriest excuse for a scientist I’ve ever met,” Ariel declared.

  Dr. Crane nodded as he lifted the first injection into the air above her. “Not anymore. Now I’m the scientist who has figured out how to make werewolves. As far as I know, I’m the only one like me on Earth. My services will be highly sought after when I show them a brilliant scientist in her wolf form.”

  Ariel called out and felt fire crawl under her skin as sizzling hot liquid entered her bloodstream. “Nanos? You injected me with nanos? It feels like a billion ants crawling on the inside of my skin.” She saw Crane lift an eyebrow at her knowledge, but then so did she. She wasn’t even sure how she knew what they were giving her.

  “You’re very sharp, Dr. Jones, much too sharp to spend your life doing research. I picked women as initial test subjects because they could be physically restrained the easiest. I did not plan on using a woman who would be able to figure out what was going on. But that’s what makes life interesting. Now the next injection has to go directly into the brain steam for best results. I’m sorry for the extreme pain it causes. Judging from your fellow test subjects, the pain won’t last more than a few moments.”

  Ariel fought as the assistant turned her head and held it still while Dr. Crane positioned the plunger. The depression happened quickly. Pain more intense than anything she’d ever known shot through her head and had her calling out. Before her consciousness faded, her last thought was that Dr. Crane had lied to her. She had been spared nothing. Her head exploding from the inside was what dropped the eventual black veil over her thoughts.

  She never felt the sedative working at all.

  —Click Here For More Info—

  Excerpt: Matchmaker Abduction

  Aliens In Kilts, Abduction 1

  Spoofy, Silly, Science Fiction Fun!

  Book Description

  True love is said to defy time, but can it survive space, aliens, and being abducted? Angus MacNamara and Erin O’Shea are about to find out.

  The big blue planet that most call Earth desperately needs matchmakers. There is only one small—okay, BIG—problem. No one wants the alien dating service job… No one. The original matchmakers are dead, and much worse, their DNA is no longer viable for cloning.

  Solution? Go back in time to some of Earth’s other—thankfully slower spinning—versions, and retrieve the alternates of the one couple in any universe who seems able to do the job.

  Far easier said than done though, especially when the alternates are anything but a loving couple, and both are none too pleased to be thrown into the future.

  What does oil and water create? Salad dressing or a real fecking mess of aliens, humans, and matchmaking fun!

  1

  Universe 6, May 15, 1958, on a hill outside Lisdoonvarna, Ireland…

  Angus MacNamara pulled the pistol from the holster on his kilt belt. He checked the chamber, made sure his shot was loaded, then looked down at the grave and glared.

  Love and hate had always been intertwined in his life. The nagging harpy he’d married over forty years ago had been his greatest pleasure and his darkest curse. Loving so hard made a man weak. There was no doubting that for him. But losing that love could destroy a
man and often did.

  “Alright, woman. It’s been nine fecking years, but I finally kept my entire promise to yer dying soul. Yer children are married well, even the stubborn ones. Ya have two grandchildren remembering yer name already, five still on the tit, and a few more on the fecking way because our sons and daughter are as lusty as we were in creating them.”

  Angus huffed. “Wait… what’s that ya say? Yes, I can hear ya fussing, even from six foot under. ‘Why did it take so long, Angus? What have ya been doing all this time?’ Well, this isn’t the 1800s, you crazed old crone. I couldn’t make them hardheads you bore do what they didn’t want to. In fact, I had to fecking bribe most of their intendeds to take them on. Without yer guidance, the last four never got their edges rounded off as well as the first three.”

  Angus stomped his polished brogue on the mounded dirt. The tassels of his father’s clan flapped from the top of his pristine white stockings every time his foot landed. His kilt lifted with his actions, bringing a welcome breeze to cool everything under it. Wearing wool in the early summer was never a good idea for a man his size, but he’d wanted to look his best today. He’d wanted closure to come in style and for it to happen while he was wearing the plaid of his clan.

  “Pay attention to me, woman. Stop rolling over down there and laughing at my misery. Do ya think it’s been easy on me all these years without ya? Well, it hasn’t, ya cruel creature. I told ya not to die, but no… ya never did listen to me.”

  Wanting to make sure her spirit understood his frustration, Angus stomped on her grave again just for good fecking measure.

  Her feet made no sound as walked, but Erin muttered quiet oaths as she moved across the grass. “Goddess, what is the eegit up to now?” She swore even more fiercely when she got closer and saw how dressed up Angus was.

  Though a tall woman who dwarfed most men in height, Erin felt short next to the nearly two meters tall Angus MacNamara. That was especially true when he was looking every bit of his proper Scots-Irish self in his best Prince Charlie outfit. It irritated her to no end how the man’s long, sculpted legs seemed meant for wearing his stupid, fecking kilt that she’d have given anything to get under.

  “I know ya lost most of yer flipping mind years ago, but did ya have to call me out here to watch ya lose the rest, Angus? Goddess knows, I’d just as soon not be a part of yer descent into madness. Plus, I have to tell ya true—Mary MacNamara will come back and haunt ya good if ya keep stomping on her grave like that.”

  Angus jumped back from the grave and raised his pistol to point at the mounded dirt on the ground. Most of him was sure it wasn’t Mary speaking to him from beyond the veil. He wasn’t that many sheets in the wind… or at least he hoped he wasn’t.

  Just as he was wondering about the voice, a green-eyed glaring angel with shiny brown hair and enormous breasts appeared in his line of vision. Instead of a robe of white though, she was wearing some unfortunate man’s fecking pants as she stepped up to face him.

  Sweet God in Heaven. Had he shot himself already and forgotten about it in his dying state? That would just be his fecking luck.

  The angel glared at him over Mary’s grave until she held up her hands because the pistol now pointed at her. She wisely backed up a few steps which clued him in about what he was doing. One set of the angel’s fingers gripped a note which she shook at him furiously. If it was a page from the great Book Of Life, his angel was sure fecking mad about what was written on it.

  Lowering the pistol, Angus wavered on unsteady legs, wishing now he hadn’t downed so many pints of Guinness. He’d thought it’d be easier to shoot himself if he was drunk. It never occurred to him that both heaven and hell would gang up and send a foul-mouthed angel his way as a final torment. He honestly thought ya got to settle yer accounts with St. Peter after ya passed on, not before ya ended things.

  He looked down at the grave again and glared. “Ya could have fecking warned about the avenging angel coming for me, Mary. What good is being dead if ya can’t help those left behind? She looks mad as the devil ever could look and now I have to deal with her all by my fecking self. I’ll not be forgetting this betrayal, ya wicked harpy.”

  Erin didn’t know whether to be more worried for Angus’s sanity or for her life. Angus was a known horse’s arse when he was drinking, but he usually had the sense not to pack a fecking gun around while in such a condition.

  “Did ya call me out here to kill me, Angus? Is that what this shit is? I always knew ya were a competitive sort, but ya could at least try to force me to move first. Yer meddling has nearly ruined my business reputation in this town anyway. Fact is, I’ve been thinking about leaving Lisdoonvarna, if ya want the whole truth. No one believes me when I say ya have been buying off the suitors when I know fecking well it’s the only way ya could ever make a real match.”

  “Erin? Erin O’Shea? Feck—I thought ya were an avenging angel come to torment me.”

  Angus stumbled and had to plant his feet firm to stay standing. He put a hand on his head, but it just wouldn’t stop spinning. Worse, Erin’s complaining always got through even the finest of liquors.

  “Och… are ya daft, woman? Our relationship isn’t that twisted. I would never call ya to Mary’s graveside.”

  Erin reached out her hand and shook the paper in it. “Yer a drunken liar, Angus MacNamara. This is yer handwriting asking me to meet ya here, or I’m as dead in the head as yer Mary down there.”

  “Liar? I’m no fecking liar,” Angus barked.

  He shoved the loaded gun back in its holster, fuming because a man couldn’t even kill himself in peace in this town. Stepping across Mary’s grave to get to the woman who’d both aided and hindered him in his matchmaking efforts, he yanked the paper from her steady fingers.

  Seeing them tremble a bit had him remembering them trembling on him that one night his weakness had decided to get the better of him. It had been so long since he’d had a woman, and the ale had gone to his head then too, and… well… feck it all. A living man had needs, didn’t he? It had only been the one time, but Erin O’Shea made it seem like he’d ruined her for forever.

  He looked at his writing on the note, bemused and befuddled by it. Even tipsy as he was, he had to admit it was a fine replication. “I can see why ya thought this was mine, but I swear on Mary’s grave, I didn’t write this. Tell me truthfully, Erin… ya had this faked to torment me, didn’t ya?”

  Erin fisted hands on her hips. “Why in the Goddess’s name would I bother faking a note from ya that had me traipsing out here to watch ya talk nonsense to a bag of bones in the ground? No one’s down there, Angus. Mary’s spirit left this world at her death. I’ve tried time and again to tell ya that.”

  Angus swung the letter around and shook it at her. “How should I know why yer would do something like this to torment me? Yer a woman, aren’t ya? That makes ya do things no man could ever understand.”

  “Listen here, you drunken arse…” Erin began.

  A throat clearing nearby interrupted her scolding and earned the interrupter a glare she usually reserved for her primary age students at the school where she taught part-time. The throat clearer was just one of a group of strange men staring hard at her and Angus.

  Strange men and strangely dressed too. They all looked like they were heading for a fancy French funeral. One hid a smile and coughed into his hand, but nodded when he saw he’d gotten their complete attention.

  “Hello. I’m Agent Black from Universe 1. And you are Angus MacNamara and Erin O’Shea from Universe 6. It’s a pleasure to see you both in person at last.”

  Angus pulled his pistol. He held it to the ready at his side and didn’t point it directly, but he wanted them to know he could… and would, if necessary.

  “Yes. Angus MacNamara would be me. Who’s doing the asking?”

  Angus watched as the one who’d asked turned to the nearest one behind him. Maybe it was the drink, but they all looked nearly the same to him. He could scarcely tell
them apart with their blackened glasses and blacker suits.

  “Are we prepared at this time to insert the U10 version?” Agent Black asked the one behind him.

  “Yes, sir,” his near twin replied.

  Angus cocked his weapon and pointed it at the one doing most of the talking. “I don’t think so, boy-o. None of ya will be doing any inserting on me or my lady friend here,” he warned.

  Erin put her hand on Angus’s arm. “Angus, they outnumber ya. And ya don’t even know what they’re meaning. Lower yer pistol before ya do something ya will regret.”

  “Get behind me, woman. I’ll take a few of them out before I go. Maybe they’ll change their mind about what they intend to do to ya.”

  Erin snorted and hung on to his arm. “If this is another of yer practical jokes just so ya can fart in my direction again, I’ll not be falling for it this time. Now I insist ya pull yerself out of yer Guinness haze. Lower yer gun before the fecking thing goes off.”

  “It’s alright, ma’am. I appreciate you trying to keep everyone safe, but it’s not necessary. The single bullet that was chambered has already been removed from Mr. MacNamara’s gun. He won’t be able to harm anyone,” Agent Black said quietly.

  Erin turned as Angus pointed the gun to the sky and shot. The trigger clicked, but nothing happened. He jerked from her grasp to examine his pistol.

  “What the feck? It can’t be empty. I just fecking chambered that round,” Angus declared.

  “Yes, sir. You did chamber a round. In the time just after you performed that action, and just before Ms. O’Shea arrived here, one of my men briefly inserted himself in a time stop and emptied the gun chamber while you were making your speech. You were so determined to end your life that we thought it best to intervene a bit earlier than originally planned.”