“Kahale,” said Helmuth to one of the guards near the door.
The man stepped out, his long, dark, curly hair pulled up and back from his face. He wore a dress shirt with the sleeves cuffed much like Helmuth’s. The way he moved was fluid, silent almost, making him the perfect assassin when the need arose, which was more often than one would think. “Boss?”
Helmuth motioned to his den window. “Bring me the results of the testing on the scientist.”
Kahale nodded and headed inside, reappearing shortly thereafter with a computer tablet. He handed it to Helmuth and took a step back.
“Stay,” barked Helmuth, pulling up the file he wanted to look at, yet again. When the DNA results were on the screen, he held it up for the guard to see. “Work of art, don’t you agree?”
Kahale showed no fear of Helmuth. He never did. He looked over the tablet at Helmuth. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not sure what I’m looking at, boss.”
Helmuth touched an area of the report. “Look here. It says she has some of your kind in her.”
“Shifter?” asked Kahale with a slight nod, seeming unimpressed, as was often the case with the man. There was a certain lack of emotion that even Helmuth found off-putting, which was saying something.
“Orca,” corrected Helmuth. “And see here, this says she has traces of three different types of sharks in her, as well as dolphin—and this is the best part.”
Kahale bent to look closer at the tablet. “Still don’t know what I’m looking at, boss.”
Annoyed, Helmuth grunted. “This is the marker for a succubus. They’re in the Fae family, you know.”
He nodded. “That much I do know. Nothing like a good romp between the sheets with one.”
Helmuth grinned. “Tell me about it.”
“This scientist, she the one coming today to meet with you?” asked Kahale.
“One of them, yes.”
“And the other?” questioned Kahale.
“Is more than she appears to be as well,” replied Helmuth. “But not a candidate for what I have planned. That one has ties to the Para-Regs so while they’re here, do nothing to tip our hand. I do not want another organization crawling up our asses, got it?”
“Got it.” Kahale was quiet a moment. “These results have something to do with the freighter and the overhaul you had done on it recently?”
“They do,” replied Helmuth. “How is everything? Does Dr. Roberts have everything in place that I told him to have prepared? Remind him again that I want both subjects kept alive. I know how much he likes to kill things—especially women. The moment my need of him is done, feel free to dispose of him any way you see fit. Do me a favor, make it painful.”
“With pleasure. And as far as I know it’s all set. I can take a boat out to check if you want.”
“Can’t you just swim out or something?” asked Helmuth snidely. “Isn’t that what your kind do? Swim?”
Kahale never batted an eye at the comment. The way he looked at Helmuth said he’d kill him too if provoked.
“Why is it you’re the only guard I have who doesn’t fear me?” asked Helmuth.
“I fear you,” said Kahale. “I’d be stupid not to. But I figure there is no real point in getting worked up about it. If you want me dead, I’m dead. But I’m guessing it would be one hell of a battle before I ended up dead, and who knows, I could get lucky and take you with me. Want to see if my theory on mutually assured destruction holds water?”
“No.” Helmuth admired the man’s honesty. “Get on the radio and check on the ship’s progress. I want to be sure everything is in order for our guests.”
“You still sure that wereshark you’ve had your eye on is going to come to you?” asked Kahale.
“I am,” replied Helmuth, his finger sliding over the screen on the tablet. “I’m told I’ll have something he desires very soon.”
Kahale stood there, blocking some of the sun with his massive frame. “The woman. You think he’ll have an interest in her? Didn’t I hear some of the guys who were with Krauss and his men over in Egypt say that this wereshark you’re so wrapped up with was held there after being held by you. They said he escaped about five years ago. That right?”
“It is. It is where he managed to escape from,” said Helmuth, still bitter about the matter. Had Krauss and those he did business with been better about screening their employees, two undercover agents with PSI would not have managed to make it through, posing as guards. Many a good test subject was lost that day, and the mad dash to recover them all had begun.
Unfortunately, only a select few had been recovered. Most scattered to the winds and were still out there, still being hunted. A small number had only just resurfaced after five years of staying hidden. With them was the wereshark Helmuth wanted back so desperately.
Soon, Helmuth would have the wereshark back in his grasp. And this time the bastard would not escape.
“Boss, the guys who worked details at the holding facility over there said the wereshark didn’t take an interest in any of the women they tried to force on him. Guess they tried breeding him or something while he was held. From what I’m hearing, he was protective of the females, but had no real romantic or sexual interest in any of them. What makes you think this one will prove different? That he’ll want to fuck this woman?”
“What makes you think his interest will be sexual?” questioned Helmuth, having never mentioned anything of the sort to the guard.
Kahale shrugged. “Just assumed that was what you were hinting at. Was I wrong?”
“No, according to Cal, you’re not wrong.”
At the mention of Cal, Kahale tensed.
“I know your thoughts on Cal,” said Helmuth.
Kahale stiffened. “He’s bad news.”
“Yes, but he gets results,” stated Helmuth. “And he’s sure this woman will draw the wereshark back into the fold and that she could be someone special to me.”
“Your mate?” asked Kahale. “Really?”
“Mine? No. Not to start with,” said Helmuth. “But from what Cal has told me and with these test results, she has every ingredient I’ll require in her genetic makeup already to be compatible with me. The rest can be altered and forced.”
Kahale said nothing more on the matter. He seemed almost bored with the conversation.
Helmuth tapped the tablet front. “Call out and check with Cal’s right-hand man. Ask Taggert if Cal has had any more visions about me and my future.”
“Will do,” said Kahale, heading into the house.
If Caladrius was correct, one of Helmuth’s pets who had managed to escape would be back in his clutches, assisting in holding off Helmuth’s darkness—even if unwillingly. Oh, how Helmuth missed having the wereshark under his thumb. And the samples he’d been able to have constant access to while holding the wereshark captive had proven to be helpful in holding back the tidal wave of change happening to Helmuth.
At least to some degree.
Yes, they’d stopped working toward the end, but that had been years ago now. If memory served, just over four years. And in that time, advances had occurred in leaps and bounds in the black-market science area. So much so that Helmuth firmly believed that between the wereshark’s DNA and the introduction of the new female, he could beat the curse once and for all.
Since Caladrius had a knack for simply knowing things that would come to pass, Helmuth had no reason to doubt the man. It took all of Helmuth’s patience, which wasn’t in abundance, to bide his time and get everything in order as it should be.
Looking back on the events that had left him sweltering in the southern heat, he realized he’d been impulsive and launched his attack plan too early the last time with the succu-bitch. Without adequately understanding all the players in the game. But that had been because desperation clung to him daily. He didn’t want to succumb to his curse. He didn’t want to become a monster for good, and then turn to stone close thereafter.
This time would be dif
ferent. He’d do things the right way. He’d make sure all his proverbial ducks were in a row. That was what he was doing now—sweating his balls off in the southern heat.
Things had been different from the mistakes he’d made in the past. At least so far. Unlike Seattle and what had happened there, he’d kept his true nature a secret here. Those in the area thought he was just a wealthy venture capitalist. Not one of the principal heads of the paranormal underground, as was the case.
Caladrius had helped set up the false identity and paper trail as well, having owed Helmuth for gifting the man a never-ending supply of alpha males to draw power from before killing.
Supernaturals were something Helmuth had in excess. His underground fight clubs were notorious. If he wasn’t pitting the males his people captured against one another, he was loaning them out for testing or to fill other needs of his business associates. And there were plenty of times he merely sold them to the highest bidder. The black market for special-order supernaturals was hot and extremely lucrative.
If everything went according to plan, the well-constructed trap would yield far more fruit than merely a wereshark and the female he sought. It would bring him additional alpha males to infuse into his fight club scene. They would fetch a pretty penny too when others heard they were captives and being forced to fight.
Nothing brought out paying customers more than the knowledge one or more of the men in the ring were special operatives of the enemy. Yes. The money would keep flooding in when that happened.
He could hardly wait.
Everything was lining up perfectly, and soon, all his hard work, all his struggles with remaining patient would be worth it. Hell, even being seriously injured and hunted would be worth it. He’d regain his position of respect within The Corporation and have his cure. The battle would be a hard one, but he was ready. So were his men.
Others might crumble from the pressure, but not him. No, Helmuth welcomed the challenge, finding sick pleasure in knowing precious man-hours and resources were being expended by the other side in an attempt to capture him.
The men hunting him were a tenacious bunch. The kind that championed causes. Those types were always the worst. So full of themselves as they sat upon their high horses, sneering down their noses at those they deemed beneath them.
As if any of the men currently searching for him were his betters or even his equals. They were not.
Very few were.
The heathens were simply coming in numbers greater than he could handle in his current state. But he wouldn’t be this way forever. He’d regain his full strength, and they would regret making a play for him. Of that, he was sure.
It didn’t help matters any that the men coming for him had started to set aside old differences to work together. He missed the days when they’d kept each of their divisions relatively separate, each dealing with their own set of issues.
More than once, he’d heard rumors that the vampires and shifters within the PSI organization had been doing more joint missions than ever. It was far easier to skate by undetected in the world of crime when one hand didn’t know what the other was doing.
They were no doubt responding to the fact the side Helmuth played for—which was often referred to as bad, but he didn’t exactly see it that way—had been pulling ahead in the larger war, while still losing some battles.
Labels were pointless.
No one person was merely black or white. They were all fifty shades of who the fuck knew what.
Helmuth didn’t view his actions as evil. He was merely doing as he’d been born to do: be more than human.
He didn’t see the point in forcing supernaturals to deny their nature, to forego hunting or hurting humans. They were a food source to many types of supernaturals, but the side that heralded themselves as good forced their own kind to live a lie. To deny their inner beasts and demons. Witches and Fae were obligated to hide their magiks from the watchful eyes of the humans, while the race as a whole acted as if supernaturals didn’t exist.
Helmuth had seen the lengths PSI was going to in an attempt to walk back classified information that had been leaked to the public. He had to give credit where it was due: their public relations department had a true gift for spinning the truth to seem like nothing more than fiction, the rantings of a few crazed souls.
The truth was so much more interesting.
Humans’ simple little minds couldn’t possibly comprehend all that was really around them in the world. Just thinking about humans made his blood pressure increase. He had a great dislike of them.
Why should they bow down to a species that was lesser than them? A species they were born to rule?
The answer was simple.
They shouldn’t.
At least not in his mind. Doing so made them look weak. They were anything but. They could rule the world with ease. If only I-Ops got out of their own way. Why they ever thought kowtowing to a bunch of ignorant humans was a smart idea was beyond him. They’d never taken a vote. If so, he’d have cast his in favor of making humans their pets. But no, the side of good had just up and decided the way of things, and all were expected to obey or risk their wrath.
Fuck them.
Helmuth’s fingernails began to lengthen as his temper flared. It was a side effect of the control issues he’d been suffering from for decades. A sign that he was on borrowed time before he lost his human side totally to that of his supernatural one.
Chapter Six
“We’re here,” said Bonnie, causing Gena to jerk awake in the passenger side of the white SUV.
Gena blinked several times, disoriented before she realized she must have dozed off during the drive to Hilton Head. It wasn’t much of a shock, considering how elusive sleep had been for her as of late. But falling asleep on her way to a work meeting with her boss wasn’t exactly how she’d wanted her day to go. It was a good thing Bonnie was more than just her boss; she was her friend as well.
“Sorry. I’m not getting anywhere close to enough sleep lately.”
“Hard to do when your nights are being rocked by a hunky shark guy,” said Bonnie with a playful expression as she killed the engine. “Wish I had that issue.”
“You want to dream about drowning and a shark shifting into a man?” asked Gena.
Bonnie glanced at her. “You left out the part about you drowning. The only bits you mentioned to me were the racy ones. And no, what would I do with a male shark-shifter? I prefer my racy dreams to be about women. But I won’t lie, I’m not opposed to looking my fill of a hunky man. But looking is as far as I go. Men are so full of drama and kind of pointless for pleasure. Nothing I can’t handle myself. No thanks.”
Gena ran her hands over her face to wake herself up fully as she laughed softly under her breath at her friend. “When I grow up, I want to be like you.”
Bonnie blew on her knuckles and winked. “It’s a gift.”
Gena faced forward in the SUV and did a double take as she found herself staring at a twelve-foot-high ornate white gate with an intercom system and a keypad. Landscaping was done in a way to lessen the harshness of it all, but even the foliage couldn’t totally take from the slight prison feel the entrance let off.
When Gena noticed several mounted cameras, all facing the SUV, she nodded to them. “Who is this guy again, and why does he need all of this?”
“Guess when you’re loaded, you have a new set of problems to worry about beyond how to keep the lights on,” answered Bonnie. “For the record, I’d rather have the need for security measures than a shut-off notice, but that might just be me. Plus, if I was independently wealthy, I’d make sure we had all the funding we needed at the center.”
“Nope. Not just you. I’d pick security over shut-off notices too, and I’d help the center as well. I’m not rolling in money though. Probably why I live on the world’s oldest boat. Have I thanked you again for letting me dock at the research center’s marina?” asked Gena. Bonnie had taken pity on Gena, letting h
er use an empty slip the facility had.
It saved Gena a lot of money that she didn’t really have. And while her parents had offered to help her out while she was getting started on her own, she wanted to do it herself, no matter how hard it was. Her boat, while old, was still seaworthy, and she tended to it with a loving hand. It would last many more years if she continued to take care of it.
Which was the plan.
Bonnie winked. “No need to thank me. I like having an ice-cream binging spot close to work. After dealing with Ray again last week, I nearly showed up and asked to come aboard for another night of eating nothing but sweets.”
Gena tipped her head slightly. “Ray was back last week? Why?”
“I don’t know,” said Bonnie, looking forward a moment. “I came into the facility earlier than normal and I found him in my office. He says he left some personal effects in the storage closet in there.”
“Uh, shouldn’t he have waited until we were open to come and ask for them? And how did he get in?” asked Gena before gasping. “He has a key still? I thought you got the keys back from him.”
“I did,” said Bonnie. “Apparently, he’d had another made. I have a call in to a locksmith who has yet to call me back. Gotta love the South and laid-back Southern time.”
Unease settled over Gena quickly. Unsure why she suddenly felt as if she wanted to have Bonnie turn the SUV around and leave, Gena ran her hand up and over the back of her neck as she attempted to wipe away the worry.
“You okay?” asked Bonnie.
Gena shivered slightly, and Bonnie was quick to turn down the air conditioning. Whenever they went anywhere, Bonnie tended to turn the air on to a setting that could keep food from spoiling. At least it felt that way to Gena, who preferred warmer temperatures than freezing.
“Sorry, I’m fairly certain I’ve started the dreaded change,” said Bonnie. “I’m hotter than Hades at random anymore.”
“Dreaded change?” echoed Gena. “Weren’t you telling me how much you hated your period and wanted to donate your uterus to science and that you wished menopause would hurry up and get to you?”
Wrecked Intel (Immortal Outcasts®): An Immortal Ops® World Novel Page 9