by Sarah Noffke
The running feet at Adelaide’s back could only belong to one person. High heels made a dragging sound when one ran in them. She stood at once and spun to find Rox racing around the glass partition.
“Well?” Adelaide said, trying to sound cold, professional, like a boss expecting a report, appearing not worried that Connor could be dead.
“Connor is on his way back via the submarine,” Rox said, taking in a few quick breaths. “Dr. Parker will be on it to treat him. I just made the arrangements.”
“Treat him? Is he okay?” Adelaide said.
Rox now regarded Adelaide with a sideways, skeptical expression. “Your news reporter saw Connor and his location, but did she by chance see his condition, because you didn’t mention anything?”
“I didn’t find it necessary,” Adelaide said, wondering if that was true. Her agents needed pertinent information when in the field, but she’d withheld it and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe denial…
“Right, well then you know that he’s overdosed,” Rox said.
Adelaide bent her head down so she was regarding the carpet, which didn’t seem to mind her look of fury. “No, I didn’t know the extent of his condition.”
“Well, then you’ll want to know that he’s locked in a coma, it appears anyway, but I’m no doctor,” Rox said.
“What can I do?” Kaleb said, standing at once, his eyes buzzing with adrenaline.
“Not a damn thing. Connor got himself into this mess and if he dies, it’s his own bloody fault,” Adelaide said, angling around Rox and marching away. She couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid to go back to drugs. His files from rehab had reported that he had developed the mental and emotional intelligence to cope with the cravings. However, something had made him regress and she was pretty sure she was to blame for it. He’d wanted her forgiveness after he attacked her in werewolf form. Connor had come to her and apologized and she’d rejected him, turned her cold eyes away, only offering words of disappointment. Telling him she wished he wasn’t who he was. And he had obviously agreed and tried to end his own suffering. Maybe he’d been successful. Maybe he’d die on the submarine, or never wake up. She banished the thoughts and the aching feeling that accompanied that idea.
Kris had a brilliant idea, just as she noticed Zephyr carrying a passed out man out of a black SUV. It was Connor, but he didn’t look like how she remembered him when she abducted him. That one hadn’t been hard because he was passed out in an alley, shivering from cold and probably hunger. Mika had given her the easy men to abduct and Morgan the harder ones like Rio and Zephyr. Just once she wanted to prove that she was as good as her brother, maybe better since he was so impulsive and hyped up on testosterone.
That’s why she was about to call Mika and suggest that he send guards to the dry dock. Now that she realized some of the werewolves were being transported that way, it was an easy way to catch them. There was a ton of security, though, and bloody fights would probably be the result, but still it was a viable strategy. However, she couldn’t risk a call right then with Zephyr hurrying to the submarine entrance. She had to get on there with him, and that was going to take some stealthy moves, since a rush of people, who she supposed were Lucidites, were waiting for him and the passed out Connor. The entrance was clustered with personnel.
“Heart rate is sixty-five and dropping,” Dr. Parker said, eyeing the cuff on Connor’s arm. “Blood pressure is low.”
A nurse had prepared an IV and inserted an oral airway while the doctor assessed him.
Zephyr watched from the side as the doctor, a healer and a nurse, took various diagnostics. “Can you heal him?” he asked, looking at the woman in white scrubs.
She shook her head. “Not until the doctor makes a full assessment and even then I’m not sure. My powers don’t work well against drugs. They take over and control the body in a way that I can’t undo. Once the drug passes though I might be able to reverse the damage it’s caused on organs and the central nervous system,” she said.
Zephyr shook his head, but none of that really made much sense to him. He was used to doctors and medicine and not a metaphysical world where everything was joined. The discharged Special Forces captain let out a long breath that did nothing to loosen his chest. First he’d left Connor behind and now he’d let him get away and do this to himself. Why did the Lucidites even dare to call him the alpha wolf? He was failing his men, just as he always feared he’d do in the Special Forces. Can you really lead people when you yourself are lost?
Connor who had been passed out, then began to jolt, like tremors were ripping through his body. “He’s starting to seize,” Dr. Parker said, turning for the nurse, who handed him a syringe.
The nurse placed a mask over Connor’s blue lips, while Dr. Parker inserted something to stop the seizing into the IV. Again and again the pair worked, trying to fix Connor, trying to undo what the drugs had done to him.
“Come on Connor! Don’t you quit on me!” Zephyr found himself yelling at the doctor’s back, who took no notice of him as he stuck a syringe into the IV, administering yet another drug, but this one meant to save him. “Come on! Don’t give up!”
Never, not once had Kris seen anything like what she was witnessing now with the Lucidites, back at Olento Research. Olento didn’t treat its people the way the Lucidites did. She’d prowled around Olento watching as subjects went through testing, many times not making it out. More than a few times she’d seen the sight presently before her as Drake tried to save a chimpanzee or a human or whatever it was. And it surprised her gross morbid side the first few times when the subject flat lined and the scientist simply covered it up and wheeled it away.
Mika never seemed to care that he lost a subject, but rather that his experiment failed and it would cost him excessive money. But to watch Zephyr become overwhelmed by panic that Connor was about to die, softened something in Kris that had lay dormant. Working at Olento Research, she’d forgotten that people often cared for each other’s wellbeing because it was the human thing to do. People didn’t have to love each other, to want their life preserved. That was innate in most humans, and it was a beautiful thing. The Lucidites weren’t exactly what she’d bargained for when taking on this mission. She hadn’t expected to spy on these people and see a part of her own heart.
“He stopped breathing,” the nurse in white scrubs said, leaning down low to Connor’s mouth.
Dr. Parker raced back over, intensity making his focused eyes buzz. “Bag him and get the AED!” he yelled. And the Korean doctor extended a hand that was immediately filled with a case. The nurse pulled the oxygen mask off and started ventilation with a bag and mask while the doctor charged the paddles.
“Everyone clear,” Dr. Parker said before shocking Connor’s chest in attempt to restart his heart. On the gurney, Connor jolted upwards, his chest heaving into the air. Zephyr had seen this before. It hadn’t ended well then, and he had little hope that it was going to end well now.
Again Dr. Parker waited while the paddles charged, making Zephyr think he’d go insane from watching one of his pack members simply lie helpless at the door of death. The nurse administered more drugs into the IV, while the healer checked his vitals. Everyone had a job but Zephyr. All he could do was watch. Wait.
The high-pitched whine of the AED was replaced by a buzzing sound. “Everyone clear,” Dr. Parker said, again shocking Connor’s chest. His back peeled off the gurney and a gasp shot out of his mouth.
“He’s back,” the nurse said. She stopped bagging as Connor pulled in a breath on his own, albeit shallow. Then his head lulled to the side, his eyelids rimmed with bluish veins. Dr. Parker relaxed, standing up tall.
“Now what happens?” Zephyr asked him.
He pulled off his glasses and wiped the rim of his nose, beaded with sweat. “We monitor him. Keep him hydrated and nourished the best way we can,” Dr. Parker said, a deep sadness in his dark eyes.
“But what else can we do?” Zephyr said, not looking at th
e doctor in front of him, but rather at the guy who looked too pale and too lifeless on the gurney.
“We wait, that’s all we can do. We wait and hope that he wakes up,” Dr. Parker said, his voice flat, but his expression betraying his act of no emotions.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The werewolves are now changing on a seven-day rotation. There is no relation to moon, tides, or the calendar.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
From the other side of the mirrored wall Mika watched with large, proud eyes. It’s incredible, he thought as he observed the beast perched on the top of his bed. Grant’s shirt and pants had blistered into frayed threads when he transformed until they loosely hung from his body mostly hidden by short black hair. His actual muscles had grown, swelling to twice their normal size. And the feat of mutating had sounded like the nastiest possible experience judging by Grant’s curdled yells. That had been ten minutes ago and now the werewolf looked more at peace, crouched down low and staring at the window across from his bed. Did the beast know that Mika was watching him on the other side of the one-way window, or was it Grant who knew and was in control? Mika hadn’t had enough time to study the other batch of werewolves and was still unaware how their minds worked in conjunction with the wolf. However, he knew Grant and knew that there were controls he’d put into place in the man long ago.
“He is quite the specimen,” Drake said from his place beside Mika. He looked in awe of the sight before them as well, although Mika knew Drake didn’t have quite the same fascination with the paranormal as he did. Drake just liked science and doing that which was impossible, which was his biggest qualification.
“Yes, he’s like the mythical lore werewolf,” Mika said, tipping forward to gain an even closer look at the man mixed with a wolf. His fangs were thicker and longer than those of the werewolves that had escaped. And his black claws hung like daggers from his fingers. But better than any of that was that the werewolf sat low on the bed staring out with a look of hunger and instinct. This had not been the experiment he wanted to create. He’d wanted men who looked like wolves, rather than this wolf that resembled a man. Mika had sought to make werewolves classy and beautiful and something that could pass on a night street to those not paying attention. And he’d also striven for subtle aspects of the wolf, knowing that a werewolf like Grant wouldn’t last long and would be harder to control. However, Grant would prove useful for the short term. He’d return at least a few of his werewolves before his heart burst from the adrenaline.
Mika turned for the door, catching Drake’s quick jerk of his head as he did. “You aren’t going in there, are you?” Drake said, his eyes on Mika’s long-fingered hand resting on the metal door handle.
“Of course I am,” Mika said, a sadistic smile on his face.
“But—he’s changed,” Drake said, looking to the werewolf and then to Mika.
“Yes, and he’s Grant. He is and always has been under my control. That will overcome his werewolf tendencies. And also, when you installed the genetics for tracking, you installed the GPS and the conditioning device as well, correct?” Mika said.
“Yes, but the conditioning device is only for training. It can’t stop—”
“I’m well aware of its potentials and limitations,” Mika said, pushing the door handle down and entering the stark white room.
Grant launched off the bed as soon as the door opened, bolting for the exit, not exactly at Mika. However, the CEO of Olento Research was ready, and tapped the buzzer in his hand at once. Grant’s reflexes were strong, but they weren’t a total match for Mika’s. At once the werewolf convulsed with electric tremors, taking him down to the ground.
Mika simply shook his head, looking at the massive beast at his feet. “Grant, you know I’ll allow you free, but first we need to talk and acting like an animal won’t get you anywhere,” he said and stepped back. “Now stand up.”
The werewolf gauged his arms, like the fear of them vibrating with electricity again was a real possibility. A hunger burned in his eyes, but still he pushed up to all fours and regarded Mika with a strange look of curiosity.
“Stand up!” Mika said, pointing up to the ceiling.
At once the beast pushed with its claws off the tile floor until it was towering a foot over Mika. He only smiled up at the werewolf, satisfaction on his face. And then the werewolf sniffed the air, a growl following the act. There was a rattling followed by the convulsing that brought the gigantic werewolf down on the ground, where it lost control of its movements. Mika regarded the vibrating thing by his feet with quiet disapproval and then again shook his head.
“I’m not dinner. I’m not someone you charge. I’m not anyone you abuse. I am your alpha and you will listen to me, do I make myself clear?” Mika said, holding out the buzzer, his finger ready on the button.
Grant pushed back on the floor, gaining a distance from Mika, and then stood again up to full height, nodding his head as he did.
“Now, I want you to change back to a man,” Mika said and lifted his chin and regarded the animal with a cold stare.
The werewolf dropped its snout, his eyes wandering over the floor in front of him, confusion evident in his gaze.
Mika let out a loud sigh. “Grant, you were wired to be able to change at will. You just have to summon that part of you. You are the wolf and the wolf is you. There is no taking over. Instead you two work together. Now, I want you to come forward, taking back your role,” he said.
Grant lifted his face, which looked like his with the black hair and high cheekbones, but also didn’t look like him at all. Just a shell of what he was underneath. He shook, but this time of his own free will and all over, like a dog does after a bath. And as he shook he began to change, to minimize in size. The black hair was erased and replaced by pale white skin and it was everywhere. So much so that Mika turned to the door when Grant was a man again, all exposed skin and fearful eyes.
When Mika turned back, Grant had pulled the sheet from his bed and wrapped it around his body, which appeared to be shaking slightly, maybe from the adrenaline of the change or the frigid temperature in the sterile room.
“Good, you’ve mastered changing. Now just remember that you’re in control and can always make the werewolf retreat. When in that form, you’re not fully in control, which is why I had to shock you,” Mika said.
“Yes, I understood that, sir. It was quite all right,” Grant said, his eyes expectant on Mika. He was looking for praise. It was so evident in his gaze, but what would that do except tarnish the likelihood that he would try his best on his first case?
“Orion Murray has been checked into a hospital in San Francisco, but ran out,” Mika said.
“One of the werewolves,” Grant said.
“Yes, and San Francisco is his hometown, so this makes logical sense. He apparently was treated for an injury to his hand. His therapist later filed a report that she thought he mutilated himself and needed psychiatric treatment,” Mika said, pinning his hands behind his back and drawing in a long inhale.
“You want me to go to San Francisco, is that right?” Grant said.
“Yes, and although we don’t know where Orion is, we know that he’s weak and vulnerable. I want you to use the tracking we had hardwired into you to sniff him out. Find a werewolf in your pack using your instinct. And stick close to the places that Orion liked to frequent. You’re bound to find him, if you listen to the wolf in your head,” Mika said, opening the door and leaving at once, not even waiting for Grant’s reply.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Zephyr Flournoy displays the gift of X-ray vision and ability to control the wind. This is the first time in recorded history that X-ray vision has been classified as a known talent.”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Were the lights extra bright in the Institute corridor today? Adelaide wondered as she trudged through the hallway. She’d been up most of the night with Lucien, who apparen
tly had eaten the world’s largest ice cream sundae and decided to project it all over his room at three in the morning. Pops, for as amazing a support to Adelaide as he was as Lucien’s fulltime caregiver, had his shortcomings; namely, he didn’t wake easily in the middle of the night. But he was in his nineties. He needed as much sleep as Lucien. So the responsibility of cleaning up her son and his room and putting him back to bed fell on her. She hadn’t been a parent to him in many months, so to dash in at the hardest possible parenting moment was horrible irony. God thought this shit was hilarious and loved torturing the girl, or so she thought. She pictured that he went to great lengths to orchestrate scenarios that would kill her spirit. However, at four in the morning when she had finally rocked Lucien to sleep, she had found a certain peace in the situation. The boy was too tired to push his mum away, as he did so many times lately. And she knew he needed her too much for her to push him away, as she had for months.
Adelaide was grateful for the soft lights of the strategic department when she entered the space. What she wasn’t grateful for was the dumb giggling emitting from the main conference space. She’d called an early morning meeting and knew exactly who was producing the revolting sound.
Rox had her hands combing through the front of Zephyr’s hair, Adelaide could see through the glass partition. It looked like she was trying to retrieve a flea from his fur or something. He narrowed his eyes at the girl, not a look of lust, but rather one of uncertainty. Then he knocked Rox’s hands away, casting a glance over his shoulder as Adelaide entered the room. Rox didn’t turn to look at her, but rather leaned back from the table and crossed her long legs, showing her joke of a pleated skirt. It appeared to be made to fit a Barbie doll.