Marking Territory: An Awakened Novel (The Rising Storm Book 1)

by N. L. Paradox

  Still… “Mr. Earnest, I’m not a teacher,” I protested. “I wouldn’t have a clue how to teach them how to be a wolf, err dog. Besides, if Eddie’s any indication, they’ll all still be functionally human when it comes to thought and reason. Wolf and dog instincts aren’t something that can really be taught to humans.”

  “Fair enough,” the biology teacher said with a nod, “Let’s do this then. Instead of doing a formal report in my class this year, you’ll work with the other students in the shifter class on how to better function like the animals they shift into. Even if none of them finish the year with a better understanding of their animal forms, as long as you make an honest effort to teach them you’ll receive an A. If not, you get an F. Either way, I think it will go a long way to also helping you to better understand your own ability as a werewolf.”

  My first instinct was to snap at him that I wasn’t a teacher, that it wasn’t my responsibility to do his job for him. I had no idea how to even try and go about teaching anyone what it meant to have the instincts of a wolf. Sure I could say that I had the urge to hunt and that my sense of smell and hearing guided my actions when racing through the woods as opposed to my vision. Beyond that, I really didn’t know how I could explain wolf instincts to someone who, even though they might have the form of a dog, still retained the mind of a human. Then again, if what Mr. Earnest said was true and I just made a serious effort to do it, it was an easy A for a pretty big part of my biology grade.

  I’d be a moron to pass up a gift like this, wouldn’t I?

  Tearmann Institute, Newfoundland, Hazel Dorm

  “So you’re really going to try and teach a bunch shifters how to be a wolf huh?” Kitty asked with a cheeky grin as she lounged on the couch.

  “Not necessarily a wolf,” I corrected as I tore into the thick, juicy steak that Ashley had lovingly prepared so rare I could practically hear it moo. “More like how to act like a dog instead of a human wearing a dog suit.”

  “From what you’ve told us about your wolf,” Ashley said as she knelt down on the floor on the opposite side of the living room table, “are you sure that’s something that can be taught?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly, pausing in my feast to ponder not only that question, but the hundreds more rolling around in my head. “Basic things like hunting and using their senses to maximum benefit shouldn’t be too hard, but instinct isn’t really something you can teach. Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be able to communicate with them in wolf form. As best as I can tell, when the other three shift, their minds stay human.”

  “Which means they wouldn’t understand the verbal and non-verbal intricacies of canine communication,” Kitty surmised for me.

  “Not just canine,” Ashley put in, “but whatever communication that’s appropriate for whatever form they shift into.”

  “Exactly,” I pointed out with my fork, a dining tool I was only reluctantly using tonight. I still hadn’t been able to hunt yet and my wolf would have rather I just used my hands to tear into that yummy piece of meat. “Honestly, the best way for them to learn would be to stay in one form and go live with that particular species for a while.”

  “You’re talking about immersion therapy,” Kitty clarified as her eyes took on that slightly faraway look when she was working out a scientific problem in her head. “That actually would probably be very effective for them. You have the benefit of already possessing the very instincts and experiences that you’ve been asked to teach, but they’re so abstract it’s not like you can come up with a lesson plan or anything.”

  “Which is why I’m not all that hopeful about how successful I’m gonna be,” I sighed.

  “But by forcing them to live with the very animals they appear to be, it might either bring out or teach them those instincts. Sort of a variation on the survival instinct theme for humans.”

  “Maybe,” I mused quietly.

  “Just give it your best shot and get an easy A on your biology report,” Ashley told me, ever the optimist in our group.

  “Yeah,” I murmured distractedly. While my redheaded friend had been pointing out the positive side of my new assignment, I’d actually started thinking about a potential way that I could combine my assignment and Kitty’s suggestion of immersion therapy. There was potential there, but I’d have to get it cleared through probably both Mr. Earnest and Dr. Wellman. Any chance of that happening meant I needed my shit together when making the proposal, and that would take time. Still, I had all year, so time wasn’t really an issue.

  “Oh,” I yelped, yanking myself back into the present, “by the way, I got permission from Dr. Wellman to hunt.”

  “Really?” Ashley exclaimed with wide eyes and a happy smile.

  “Yeah,” I replied, a touch embarrassed. “After what happened today he figured it was in everyone’s best interest to forgo the whole license issue so I don’t lose control again, or worse.”

  “So how is that going to work?” Kitty asked, brushing back a length of her hair from her face.

  “Dr. Wellman’s going to talk to Canadian Wildlife Service tomorrow and explain the situation to them. I’ll be restricted to roughly a mile or two from the school’s perimeter and can only hunt small game like squirrels, rabbits, foxes, or coyotes. If I want to hunt moose, I need to apply for a license like everyone else.”

  “Will that be enough to satisfy your wolf?” Kitty inquired.

  “I think so,” I nodded. “The biggest issue hasn’t been the prey, but the fact that I haven’t been able to simply hunt. Sure want to go after big prey like a moose, but small prey will satisfy my wolf so she doesn’t rip control away from me like she did today. Next time it might not be my wolf form that I shift into.”

  “On the plus side,” Ashley giggled, “you’ve got a pretty good rep now as someone not to mess with. That’s a bonus.”

  “Enough to get us on the second floor of Fhlea?” Kitty wondered.

  “It’s probably a bad idea to throw my weight around so soon after what happened,” I said, putting the brakes on whatever our genius sexpot friend was plotting. “I came out looking like an angel this time, but I don’t want to push it.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she replied with a pout. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she wanted to get onto that second floor more than Ashley did. Now why would that be?

  “Anyway,” I said, redirecting our conversation towards our sweet, diminutive friend, “I heard through the grapevine that you had some kind of a breakthrough today in your power class.”

  Though she initially blushed in embarrassment at suddenly being the focus of our attention, that quickly went away as her exuberance burst forth. “I was able to heal someone without passing out!” she cried excitedly.

  That caused Kitty and I to frown slightly. “Umm, Ashley, you’ve done that before,” the brunette pointed out, “when you healed my ankle, remember? It just made you pretty weak for a while.”

  Shaking her head, her eyes practically sparkled like gemstones with excitement. “I’m not talking about pulsing my healing energy like that; I’m talking about healing someone without any weakness whatsoever.”

  This, more than anything we’d talked about over the last few days, was easily enough to have both Kitty and I gaping at Ashley in stunned astonishment. While it took me a minute or so of just opening and closing my mouth like a fish to find my voice, Kitty managed to recover a little quicker. “How?” she cried.

  “Well,” Ashley explained as she leapt up and took our empty places into the kitchen, “it turns out I’ve been using my power all wrong. Ever since I Awakened, I’ve healed people by pushing my power into them. Apparently, that’s been a very wrong and stupid thing to do.”

  “Why is that?” Kitty asked, clearly with a scientist’s curiosity.

  “From what Dr. Howard told me, my power naturally wants to flow out of me and heal pretty much anyone in my immediate vicinity. I’m actually blocking it from doing that on a subconscious leve
l all the time, so all I need to do is just remove that block and let my power do its thing.”

  “So, does that make it more effective?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied with a disappointed sigh, “it actually slows down the healing effects quite a bit. See, when I was pushing my power into people, I was pretty much shoving every bit of healing energy I possessed into them all at once. Since healers only have a finite amount energy available to them at one time, I was putting a ton of stress on my body by doing that which made me pass out. By using this new technique, I’m probably only using a fraction of my healing energy so there’s almost no strain on my body.”

  “Interesting,” Kitty mused as she accepted one of the steaming mugs of tea Ashley had prepared for us. “The problem with that is by your own account the effect of your healing when you do it this way is much slower. In an emergency situation, that might be too slow to help your patient.”

  “Dr. Howard said the same thing,” Ashley agreed with a nod, “that’s why once I get really good at releasing my power so it flows naturally, she’s going to teach me how to modulate my control. That way I can push more of my energy into a patient as needed without putting undue stress on my body.”

  “Well,” I said with a smile as I sipped from my own mug of tea, “this sure has been a banner fucking day, huh?”

  “And to think,” Ashley agreed with a grin, “it’s only day two of the school year.”

  Raising her mug, Kitty looked at the two of us and smiled. “Welcome to Tearmann; hope you survive the experience.”

  With a laugh, we clinked our mugs together and took solace in the knowledge that despite what was happening out in the world, regardless of the troubles that were on the horizon, we had each other and we could do anything.

  Westlake Industries, Reading, Pennsylvania

  “Sir, we have some updated numbers.”

  Not bothering to look up from the data on his computer, Harold Westlake simply waved at the voice he recognized as being one of the people assigned to be a runner for his campaign. There was a sound of rapidly approaching footsteps before a strong, elegant, female voice stopped them dead.

  “I’ll take those.”

  “B-but,” the young runner stammered, “I was told I should bring these directly to Mr. Westlake.”

  “And you have,” the woman said, a faint trace of steel threading through the professional demeanor, “now kindly leave.”

  “Ummm, yes ma’am,” the runner said quickly before Westlake heard those feet beating a rapid, muffled retreat to the door it closed with a quiet click.

  After a full count of five, still without taking his eyes and focus from the rather large string of a mathematical formula on the screen, he distractedly ordered, “Well?”

  “Based upon our ongoing research,” Mallory Thompson said as she slid herself up onto the CEO’s large desk and crossed her legs, “it would appear that we are seeing an increase in internet traffic promoting your candidacy and the anti-fey message you are running on.”

  “I hope that’s not the issue that is being focused upon,” Westlake said, taking his eyes off the screen and leaning back in his chair. “Running on a strictly anti-fey platform won’t get me even close to winning the primaries.”

  “No sir,” Mallory assured him with a secret smile that held all sorts of delicious promises only the businessman could appreciate. “Your comments regarding the government only taking care of the wealthy struck a rather significant chord with the blue collar demographic, as did the infrastructure issue. What really seemed to spark interest was your statements regarding health care.”

  Westlake smiled to himself, being careful not to allow an overabundance of pride into it. Out of all of the issues he’d address, including the issue regarding fey, he knew health care would be a particular item of interest to people. “Is it generating good numbers?” he inquired.

  “Yes sir. Proposing a universal healthcare system funded by the government is one of the biggest trending topics on social and commercial media.”

  “Excellent,” the large man said, allowing a hint of wickedness into his smile as he opened one of the drawers in his desk and extracted a cell phone, “then it’s time we moved forward.”

  After dialing a number and only one ring sounding through the earpiece, a formal, yet non-descript male voice asked, “Yes sir, what can I do for you?”

  “Make contact with the appropriate individuals and initiate phase two of the operation.”

  “Right away sir,” the voice said a moment before the line disconnected.

  Slipping the phone back into his desk, Westlake looked over at the beautiful, elegant woman perched atop his desk and displaying her long, crossed, gorgeous legs for maximum visual benefit. “Later my pet,” he said with a knowing grin and receiving one full of the promise of carnal delights in return. “Right now we need to go over the infrastructure and tax proposals in Congress for the last ten years.”

  The change to quite a mundane subject matter caused the woman to lose a bit of her composure and blink in surprise. “Ummm, yes sir,” she said in confusion, slipping down off his desk and working on drawing up the information on her tablet. “May I ask; why are we going to be reviewing those instead of other issues?”

  “My dear Mallory,” Harold said, his tone pitched deliberately to make the woman feel as though she had missed something so obvious a dullard would have caught it, “the number of citizens in the United States who actually vote in an election has decreased by a factor of twenty-five in the last eight years. Why? Because more and more people do not feel like their vote counts for anything. Thus, they feel like those in government do not care about the issues that are meaningful to them.”

  “But wouldn’t that be health care?” Mallory queried. “I would think obtaining free healthcare for the nation would be a top priority for most people.”

  “Only for people who are sick or have loved ones dealing with a major injury or illness,” the CEO said as he looked to the woman and then flicked his gaze to the coffee maker at the far wall. “The majority of the population,” he continued as the assistant immediately left to fetch him the desired beverage, “are not afflicted by such an issue, and thus, it isn’t one of their primary focuses. What is, is the crumbling roads and bridges they drive over every day, and the amount of taxes that they are forced to pay to keep what they perceive as a corrupt government functioning. Wages have not met the increase in living costs for the last twenty years. Combine that fact with wealthy individuals and corporations having effectively taken over the country is what drives people to vote in certain ways.”

  “If I want to secure the vote of the blue-collar population,” he continued as the woman returned with a steaming mug of coffee, “then I need to address those issues since they are far more meaningful to them.”

  Slithering sensually to her knees at his feet, her body subtly writhing as a reminder of the delicious curves she possessed, Mallory lifted the proffered beverage within easy reach of her master. “So you wish to familiarize yourself with what hasn’t worked so far?” she asked once the mug was taken from her hands.

  “That,” he said as the woman once again gained her feet and resumed her position on the desk that displayed her body exquisitely, “and to allow me to formulate a plan on how to correct the matter.”

  While she attempted to control it, the assistant was unable to keep the look of disbelief from distorting her elegant features. “Sir, I don’t mean any insult, but do you really believe you alone are capable of solving the country’s infrastructure and financial crisis?”

  Lifting a hand, he lightly traced a finger over one shapely calf, sending a delicious shiver through the woman’s body. “No, I don’t have that much of an overblown ego,” he said with a chuckle. “However, I can bring in some of the greatest financial and engineering minds in the country to work on this issue with me.”

  “And how can you be so sure they will?” Mallory asked with a tilt of her
head that did delightful things to her hair.

  To that question, Westlake only smiled, his hand sliding further up the statuesque woman’s leg and slipping beneath her brief, leg-baring skirt. When she gasped in both surprise and pleasure at the light, teasing manipulation of her tender flesh, the large man spoke as though he were bringing up a financial report on his computer. “How quickly you forget yourself my dear,” he mused as the woman writhed against his touch. “It would be disgustingly simple to get them here. Once that happens… well, I believe you might have an idea of what comes next.”

  Mallory Johnson might have answered, except the skillful manipulations of her master set her core ablaze with liquid heat that, within moments, had her crying out with uncontrollable bliss.

  New York City, New York, Ho-Jung Restaurant

  When Jeremiah Zucker entered the restaurant and proceeded towards the back, he fully expected to see a table nearly full of various other law enforcement officials such as himself.

  It was quite a surprise that, instead, only one shadowy figure was seated at their typical booth. When Zucker slid onto the well-worn vinyl and the lovely hostess pulled the privacy curtain closed, the FBI agent lifted a suspicious brow at the table’s other occupant. “Am I early?”

  “Not at all Agent Zucker,” the man replied, “you were the only one contacted for this meeting, and no, it was not for some nefarious purpose,” he assured the agent as the other’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and his hand subtly dipped nearer to the grip of his sidearm. “You were the only one asked to this meeting because it is only your particular law enforcement branch that is to be involved in this particular task.”