by Dana Lyons
His tone was odd, the speculative look on his face scary; she ignored him. Rhys gave Ivanov a wrinkled look as dry as last week’s toast. Simon frowned and caught a snort before it broke out. She stepped through the door held by Stepan and gave the caution Remember, we don’t know Lazar.
Stepan keyed in the code to the second door and it slid open with a hiss. She spotted Lazar just as he rose from his desk in the corner. I forget how young he is!
He looks like a kid.
Simon complained. Damn, he looks younger than when I first met him on Draco; wonder what kind of formula he cooked up for himself. Ivanov’s watching us.
Ivanov said, “Special Agent Dreya Love, this is Dr. Anthony Lazar, I believe you’ve met.”
She failed to react but did give a polite smile. “No, we haven’t met, although I recently spoke with your father on unrelated business. Doctor, a pleasure to meet you.”
“Agent,” Lazar answered. “I’m sure I’d remember if we’d met.”
“Agents Morgan and Sinclair,” she added.
“By the way,” Ivanov said, “where is that third man?” He walked to the water cooler and filled a cup, drank and crushed the cup before dropping it in the basket.
As if dealing with a recalcitrant child, she shook her head. “The fourth person in the car with us at Dr. Lazar’s was our driver from the local office.”
Ivanov waved her off as if her words were inconsequential. “I brought you here because I’m interested in what Lazar can create. I know you deny seeing the drone, but my high definition camera shows shock and recognition on your face.
“I ask myself, how is such a thing possible? Given Doctor Lazar’s reputation and your appearance on the video, I began searching and discovered a string of anomalies.”
He paused to run a hand through his hair, then propped the hand on his hip. “I believe you and Dr. Lazar crossed paths somewhere so secret even I can’t ferret it out. So, I want to know, are you one of his genetically modified creations? Did he give you incredible vision with those eyes you need to hide behind glasses?”
She studied his face; his micro-reads said his question was genuine, no joke or test, but an earnest desire for the truth. Never going to happen dude. “No on all accounts,” she answered drily. “What I am is God made, and Dr. Lazar had nothing to do with it. If you’ve invited me here to fulfill some wild fantasy built on assumptions, then I’m sorry to disappoint.”
Ivanov’s expression didn’t change. She held his gaze, grateful to hide behind her sunglasses. “But if you want to know why I’m here, it’s because my boss wants to know what the two of you are doing together. Certainly, given your reputation, you expected some response when you deliberately shook hands with Dr. Lazar in a public place. You obligingly supplied the invite, so here we are.”
All through this exchange, Lazar maintained an amused facade on his face. Simon crossed his arms and glared at Ivanov, while Rhys kept his eyes on Lazar. Stepan’s forehead wrinkled in concentration as his eyes darted between speakers.
Ivanov smiled as though she had just made his point. “I produced that display because I wanted to see what would pop out of the doctor’s woodwork, as you Americans say. Interesting that you are what popped up.”
She wanted to move the topic along. Smoothly, she asked, “So, tell me, what are you two working on?”
A sudden and surprising wave of disinterest crossed through Ivanov’s micro-reads. He’s stalling for some reason.
Before answering, Ivanov filled a fresh paper cup, drank, and wiped his mouth. “We’re looking to make some modifications—the kind that benefit everyone involved.” He smashed the cup in his fist and dropped it in the basket.
Into the following stretch of silence, Lazar injected, “All perfectly legal, Agent Love. Consent forms and NDAs are on file. By the way, Sasha, I’m still waiting on those DNA samples.”
Ivanov cocked his head as though unsure what Lazar spoke of. Stepan cleared his throat. “We’re collecting them.”
As if coming from deep thought, Ivanov nodded in consent, his voice distracted. “Yes, Stepan is arranging the collection.” He waved his hand as though the matter was of no concern to him.
Dreya licked her lips. Ivanov’s micro-reads were on the fly; she processed the sudden change in his facial patterns. Something is happening here.
Abruptly, his attention returned. “Agent, if you’ll accept my accommodations, I’d like you to stay for a few days. Stepan and I will be gone this evening, but I’ll see you tomorrow. In the meantime, Dr. Lazar will answer your questions about what we’re doing.”
He gave a curt nod, putting Stepan into motion. They passed through the sliding door and exited with a whoosh of energy. As the pneumatic door sealed, the air in the lab grew heavy.
Dreya sensed everyone wanted to speak, but no one wanted to be first. In the distance, the helicopter fired up and soon they heard it lift and fly out of hearing range. She glanced around the windows before asking softly, “Can we talk here?”
Lazar rolled his eyes and put a finger to his lips. He opened a drawer and placed a sphere on the desk and pushed a button; the sphere began vibrating. “Now we can.”
He smiled and gazed over them. “You look good. I see Nobility is treating you well. I saw Quinn yesterday; he was beautiful. By the way, the code for the door is 425.”
Simon puffed up. “You were expecting us. Still manipulating people, I see.”
“All for a good reason,” Lazar protested. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in what I’m doing?” He winked.
Dreya bit back a smile.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Simon answered. “I hope I never imagine what that freak Ivanov would ask you to do.”
“Indeed,” Lazar ruminated. “His requests shocked even me.”
Their faces reflected various expressions of revulsion as imaginations inadvertently skipped over unnamed horrors.
Rhys’ voice broke the silence, rumbling from deep in his vocal chords. “So, tell us then, Doctor. What are you doing?”
11
In a gated estate far from the laboratory, Ivanov stretched his feet out from under the table after dinner. Sunset warmed all the windows, and an impromptu meal and an excellent bottle of wine left him satisfied.
Stepan removed the last plate to the kitchen and returned to set a bottle of brandy and a glass on the table. “Bring another glass. Drink with me, my friend,” Ivanov instructed. While he waited, he twitched one foot idly, contemplating the intricacies of genetic modification. He understood much about the world, but genetics left him baffled.
The woman must be one of Lazar’s creatures.
She didn’t come from a petri dish, so she must have been modified recently, if her and the doctor’s passports were any indication. The image of her spotting the drone filled his mind, an image that continued in spite of her denials.
If the doctor can do that, what else can he do?
“What do you think of her?” Since his latest encounter with her, something had changed, something he couldn’t explain. He wanted to hear Stepan’s simple but reliable reasoning.
Stepan sat next to him with a glass, bearing a frown and a stiff pair of lips. “I wouldn’t kill her.”
“Why not?”
He hemmed and stumbled, unable to find the words.
Ivanov pulled back in surprise. “What’s your problem? I thought she frightened you?”
“She did,” Stepan insisted. “She does, still. But there’s something else I can’t explain. Watching her speak with you, I had a compulsion.”
“Ah. You wanted to screw her? That’s understandable.”
“No, no, that’s not what I wanted to say.” He looked down as if embarrassed.
Ivanov nudged him in the ribs. He whispered because his words were ridiculous. “It’s like she’s the prettiest teacher at school, and you want to be her pet.”
Stepan’s eyebrows shot straight up; he blinked with surprise. “Yeah; I get that.
Her hair and her skin are perfect like no other woman I’ve ever seen. I just want her to take off those glasses so I can see her eyes. I want her to look at me. I want her to see me—I think. This desire makes me uncomfortable, yet I cannot stop it.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Ivanov announced. “She’s like no other woman you’ve ever seen. And we’ve seen quite a few.”
They murmured in agreement and tipped their glasses to history.
“She’s like something, maybe from Lazar,” Ivanov suggested. “This, Stepan, is the perfection I spoke of yesterday, which you denied. And yet today, you have another story. So, tell me, in the face of your attraction to her, why wouldn’t you want such perfection?”
“The fact that she’s so perfect is what frightens me.” Stepan put his arms on the table and leaned in. “You really want Lazar to make you a woman like her?”
“Better. I want to be like her.”
Stepan pulled in his chin with big-eyed alarm. “You want to be a woman?”
Ivanov choked and laughed loudly. “No, my friend, you don’t have to worry about that.”
Stepan gasped with relief. “About the DNA. I’m still collecting names and samples from our volunteers. It’s taking longer than I expected.”
“There’s no rush for that. I have a better use for the doctor’s talents in mind.” Seeing the speculative look in Stepan’s eye, he clammed up. “I’ll know more after I talk to the doctor. But you can put the DNA collection on hold.”
The brandy was passed around, and the sun had set when Stepan mentioned, “The cameras are only half working, at best, but I found a wolf print out in the woods beyond the perimeter.”
“We can’t have wolves eating the doctor or the perfect Special Agent. Do you want to trap it or shoot it?” Ivanov asked.
“Probably easier to shoot it.”
* * *
Lazar had been waiting for them to ask. He wasn’t surprised when Rhys asked, “What are you doing?”
The words echoed off the hard surfaces of the lab. The loaded question reverberated in the air, challenging him to tell the truth. He responded instead with a question. “Did you see it today?”
Dreya glanced at Rhys, who glanced at Simon. “See what?”
“Eminence and its previously unperceived direct effects on evolution,” he declared. “We just witnessed the spread of eminence by social contact. More than I could have ever expected, this will destroy Galton’s theory of eminence in behavior genetics.”
She crossed her arms and waited. Rhys stuffed his hands in his pockets and pulled his lips into a smug expression. Simon’s eyebrows drew together with accusation. “You’re using us in an experiment?”
“Just your presence, that’s all,” he answered, waving his hand in dismissal. “But the rapid response from Ivanov was surprising.” He rushed to his laptop and tapped on the keyboard. “With this final correction, I’ll have the perfect formula.”
After he finished typing, he stuck a film up on the light board and pointed. “This is Ivanov’s karyotype—his chromosomes. See here, this short one. He has diabetes, he just doesn’t know it yet.”
Simon studied the film. “You plan on curing his diabetes in return for all his global good works?”
Dreya snickered. Simon’s humor had a razor edge to it.
“What you are witnessing is evolution taking not eons to happen, but occurring right before your eyes. A conscious desire to evolve beyond one’s state exhibited by a lower genetic form.”
“From the worst to the best?” Dreya asked.
“Precisely. You are my best; Ivanov, the absolute worst of natural selection.”
“So, you’re going to give him Nobility?” Rhys asked.
“Better,” she guessed.
“Much better,” Lazar said. “A formula made specifically for Ivanov.” Suddenly lost in thought, he pointed. “The kitchen is beyond the lab. Your living quarters are out the door and to the left. I’m going to be here all night to prepare for Ivanov’s return tomorrow, so don’t let me keep you.” He waved them off as he began a flurry of tasks.
Dreya drew Simon and Rhys aside. I guess that leaves us to our own entertainment. Let’s get settled and find Quinn.
She punched the code in the keypad. Before they got through the door, Lazar called out. “If you find a reasonably fresh cigarette butt out there, please bag it without touching it and bring it to me.” He rushed over and put a plastic bag in her hand. “Oh, and don’t drink from the paper cups tomorrow—very important—don’t drink from the paper cups.”
Simon cracked a grin. Someone else gonna get the Lazar treatment. I’d pay to see this.
They found the two housing trailers, each with two luxurious bedrooms and two bathrooms. “Better than we’ve had so far,” she mused as she unpacked what few items she brought. Three change of clothes, a hairbrush, toothbrush and very little else. “Getting down to a Spartan existence.”
Rhys waited by the door when she came out. “Simon already went over to the kitchen; he’s stirring up something to eat.”
When they arrived at the kitchen, they found Simon had been busy. Pots boiled, cut vegetables filled the board, the grill smoked, and two open bottles of wine stood by crystal glasses. As they walked in, he sipped at a glass of red and motioned them over.
“This kitchen is stocked for a chef.” He opened a pantry door then pointed to the double glass-door refrigerator. “Rhys, if you’ll make the salad, I’m making a pink sauce for the ravioli.” He poured cream in the pan and stirred, comfortable in his element.
Dreya sat with a glass of wine and watched her men make dinner. She missed Quinn; he was usually Simon’s accomplice at the grill.
Soon, three enormous steaks hit the grill with a loud hiss and a burst of smoke. The ravioli went into the boiling water, and Simon tasted his sauce and turned down the fire under the pan. Rhys set down a large bowl of salad and grabbed a bottle of salad dressing from the vast pantry.
As the fest was presented, they collected at the long prep counter with Rhys on one side of her, Simon on the other. She lifted her glass. “To Lazar. May he fix the world.”
Simon burst with laughter but grudgingly raised his glass. Rhys had to think a moment, but he relented. He added his own toast. “To the madman.”
Conversation lagged as they started on the steaks. Dreya kept her mind open for contact from Quinn—he’d been silent all day. We miss you. Where are you? I want to see you tonight.
After a long moment, he answered.
In the woods at midnight, come alone.
She remembered her sense of dread when he disappeared into the forest. This had grown into a deep fear for him being alone for such an extended period of time in the wild. What’s happening to you?
Come see.
After the long day, Simon and Rhys were eager for bed. Listening to them from the bedroom, she wondered if Nobility was making them younger. She could hear them jostling for space while brushing their teeth in the bathroom—they sounded like teenagers.
She curled in the bed as they transitioned and joined her. Simon warmed her feet, and Rhys nestled on the bed above her pillow. Quinn’s absence ached all the way to her soul. She missed his warmth, his humor, his pretty eyes.
Rhys chirped. Don’t worry. He made his commitment to the pack.
She reached up to stroke his feathers, needing the comfort of his support. He always made her feel like she could face anything with him by her side. I know. But that was before he went into the forest.
It wasn’t long before Simon broke into his sleep purr, and Rhys twisted around with his head buried. She slipped from the bed and dressed. Soft as a whisper, she eased out the door.
She’d brought a flashlight, but the moon was bright, still waxing, and illuminated her way into the forest. She came upon a small animal track and followed it uphill to a stream that fed the nearby lake.
Bare human footprints exited the water. She stripped and stepped into the stream,
blowing through pursed lips at the cold shock, even as she relished the wild and unmitigated connection to nature she felt in the water. She dipped her head, came up with a gasp and exited, adding her footprints to Quinn’s at the stream’s edge.
“You’re so beautiful.”
His words came softly and he stepped into the moonlight, as naked as she was, his flesh hard and bobbing for her attention.
He is so wild, even as human.
In a rush of movement, he stepped over and took her in his arms. He kissed her roughly, demanding possession. Need and desperation for the human touch enveloped him. She rose up on her toes, held his erection to her opening, and slipped down on him.
He was burning hot against her cold skin, searing into her flesh. He filled her and grasped her buttocks, pushing into her. She bit him on the shoulder, sensing the animal within him seeking her, and marked his flesh to acknowledge him. She grunted and shoved her hips into his with all her might, asserting her power. Open your mind to me.
He gasped and his knees nearly buckled, but he let the wolf’s mind connect to hers. A shiver exploded through their bodies as the link gave them each other’s sensations. He shook and gripped her harder, a moan escaping from him.
An erotic motion began, as ancient as the tides; he almost comes free, she draws him back in. Hip bone to hip bone, taut belly to taut belly, they thrust against one another. Muscles pushed to the shaking point as they drew their passion to a pin point.
“Now,” she cried, and bucked faster against him. The beginnings of her orgasm flooded out from her belly to sweep through her body. She went rigid, still grinding into him as his tremors followed hers and rocked through her. She sagged against him; he staggered as he let her go, yet still held her in his embrace. They sank to the moss-covered ground.
He kissed her chin and her cheeks and her forehead, then back to her chin again. “I need you,” he sobbed.
A sense of desperation flowed with his words. “I know,” she whispered, caressing his shoulders and arms. “We miss you, too.” She pulled back to see his face. “Are you okay out here?”