by Sarah Noffke
Overhead a loud piercing sound rang through the air and suddenly all three werewolves dropped to the ground, covering their ears. It was a high-pitched sound, one that paralyzed Zephyr’s mind, making him unable to act. He pulled his head up briefly to see a police officer blowing a dog whistle into a bullhorn. The noise had at first broken the werewolves into submission, but the longer it went on, the more Zephyr only found it incredibly annoying. He held up his hand and projected it at the officer, who stood a safe distance away, by the catwalk. However, he wasn’t safe from wind. An icy gale effortlessly shot from Zephyr’s palm and sailed until it pushed the officer backward, the bullhorn and whistle flying from his hand and away.
“Dumbass,” Zephyr said, turning in the direction of the fight. Rio had pushed up to a standing position, faster than Wolf X, and ran at him, kicking him in the face like his head was a football that needed to be launched across the field. Rio’s super strength nearly severed the strange-shaped head from the body. The beast howled as he flipped over, his face tearing with a large gash from the assault. Zephyr quickly crouched and then sprung in the air, landing on Wolf X. As though injected with a mega dose of adrenaline, Zephyr rammed his fist again and again into the head of the beast, pummeling it until it was unrecognizable. His bloody fist didn’t stop until Rio placed a clawed hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Zephyr’s vision cleared from the blurred movement and he looked down on what he’d done, his stomach instantly tightening with disgust.
“Let’s get him out of here,” Rio said.
Zephyr agreed with a nod. He stepped back as Rio moved forward, easily picking up the massive werewolf. Yes, leaving a werewolf’s body wouldn’t be good. And then in a matter of moments Wolf X transformed, sinking into the image of a man, his body bare and skin pale. Zephyr shook his head. They were only men. All of them were only men, who had been made into something else. They were pawns made into werewolves.
Chapter Forty
“Cole Cosgrove – Age: Twenty-six. Height: Six foot, two inches. Weight: Two hundred and ten pounds. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Brown. Ethnicity: White. Employment: Nurse. Skill: Unclassified. Rank: Unknown.”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Mika turned away from the mirrored window where the scientist and the subject sat. Another waste of money, he thought, dismissing the image behind him. His attempts to create eidetic memory had failed. Project Muisti was just another one he’d file away. However, Mika was a success because he didn’t bow to defeat, but rather used it to create further opportunities for him. Through the speaker on the wall he heard the scientist ask the man with the bandaged head another series of questions.
“Do you recall anything from the pages of the book?” the scientist said.
“You flipped through them so quickly. How was I supposed to?” the homeless man said.
“Just try and recall if any images or words stuck out,” the scientist said. They’d been through these questions already, but the protocol stated that the questions are asked three separate ways before the project is deemed unsuccessful.
“I want my money that was promised to me. You sawed into my brain. Now I want to go,” the ungrateful man said. He wasn’t going anywhere. Instead he’d be offered another sum of money if they could try something else on him. Mika turned his sharp eyes on the bum. The man had a preponderance of wrinkles due to many days sitting on a sun-drenched sidewalk panhandling. But he also had wise eyes, and they were a bright shade of blue. Mika pictured that he’d look less incompetent and more holistic if he could turn the man into a wise clairvoyant. The Lucidites were always a step ahead of him and that was apparently because they had news reporters. It was time that Mika had a clairvoyant that could tell him where to find the werewolves or how to get ahead. This man would work perfectly for that experiment.
Drake swept into the room, breathless as usual. If he didn’t eat greasy food and exercised he wouldn’t be so out of shape, but the scientist was lazy in that regard.
“I have news,” he said, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose beaded with sweat.
“I want you to use this subject for Project Nakija,” Mika said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder at the man in the other room.
Drake paused, regarded the man and then Mika. “The clairvoyant project? But I didn’t think we were quite ready for that one yet,” he said.
“We will never be ready if we don’t start somewhere,” Mika said, walking for the door.
“So Project Muisti wasn’t successful, then?” Drake said.
“Of course it wasn’t successful and I don’t want to lose a perfectly good subject. Prepare him for the experiment,” Mika said, his hand on the door.
“But sir, he just had brain surgery. I’m not sure it’s wise to operate on him again so quickly,” Drake said.
“If he dies, then he dies. We will get another subject. Stop wasting my time with these frivolous concerns,” Mika said, pulling the door back.
“Of course. But sir, I have news,” Drake said.
Mika let out an impatient sigh. “What is it?” he said, turning back around.
“It’s Grant…” Drake said.
“Is he back? Does he have Hugo?” Mika said.
“No, and that’s the thing. He’s not coming back. His tracking device just went offline,” Drake said.
“What does that mean?” Mika said, narrowing his eyes at the old scientist.
“It means he’s dead.”
Chapter Forty-One
“Derek Chang – Age: Twenty-eight. Height: Five foot, five inches, Weight: One hundred fifty pounds. Hair: Dark brown. Eyes: Brown. Ethnicity: Asian/White. Employment: Construction. Skill: Unclassified. Rank: Unknown.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
Throughout the night, Zephyr and Rio ran, fueling the wolves with the multiple sights and smells. The terrain stretched out under their feet, snaking a path that led to further thrills. After disposing of Wolf X, the two men spilled out into a ranch on the west side of the city. The animals stirred with apprehension as soon as the werewolves ran onto the property, but their endings were all swift. The farmhouse’s lights never even switched on, but in the morning the family would find that all of their livestock was dead and their yard was flecked with blood.
Rox didn’t even grant Zephyr a smile when he strolled into the strategic department the next morning, showered and freshly shaved.
“There’s my partner in crime,” Rio said, throwing a fist up high for Zephyr to bump with his own. He did so as he took the seat between Rio and Rox.
“If by crime you mean when you massacred a herd of cattle, bravo, fuck-faces,” Adelaide said, her head down, her red hair partially covering her face.
“We had to eat,” Rio said, with a loud laugh.
“A herd of cattle?” Adelaide said, flipping her head up, her face creased on the side, probably from where it had been resting on her hand.
“We were hungry from battle,” Rio said.
“Yeah, and I’m still working to cover up that epic battle at the airport. You know how many minds we’ve had to erase and phones we had to confiscate?” Adelaide said.
“Mind erasing? You all have that technology?” Zephyr said, leaning forward suddenly.
“Damn, the Lucidites are pretty badass,” Rox said through a whistle.
“We make the FBI look like a fucking preschool,” Adelaide said.
“That you do,” Rox said, not looking deterred.
Adelaide placed her hand on the table, and realized at once that she was looking for her book. That’s where she always rested her hand during these meetings, like it was loaning her strength. But still there hadn’t been a sign of it anywhere. Soon she’d have to start killing Lucidites just to deal with the strain of the loss, although her father said that kind of thing never worked to quiet the monster. Still, she’d try. He was never wrong, but there was always a first.
“How is he?” Zephyr said, allow
ing the generic “he” to hang in the air. They all knew who he meant, but saying his name was difficult after everything that “he” had been through.
“He’s out of surgery and currently has a fleet of healers working on him,” Adelaide said.
“Will he pull through?” Zephyr said.
“Probably. As much as I keep hoping he will die,” Adelaide said.
“He must be a cat rather than a dumb dog, based on his number of lives,” Rox said.
“Out there, you all… well, you got the job done,” Adelaide said. Her father had told her that a leader doesn’t offer compliments but rather makes agents beg for it, dangling the idea like a carrot. The surefire way to encourage complacency was apparently by offering positive feedback.
“I think she’s saying we’re awesome,” Rox said, slapping Zephyr’s bicep.
“You have a faulty understanding of the English language. No shocker there, American idiot,” Adelaide said. “You got the job done. That’s all. You didn’t exceed standards. You don’t get a raise. Actually, you just get to stick around until an STD disables you.”
“I think we proved that working together is the key,” Zephyr said, turning and facing Rio. “You were great in the field. And without Connor’s input, we might have worn ourselves out or gotten seriously hurt before we realized Wolf X’s weakness.”
“What about me and my amazingness?” Rox said.
“I didn’t even notice you were there,” Zephyr said with a slight smile and a wink. Adelaide knew from the debriefing that Rox had been useful at getting the werewolves into the airport, keeping them under control, and then also getting Connor out. She was like an adopted member of the pack and unfortunately that was exactly what Adelaide needed from her.
“All right, you three rest up. I’m going to go use my brain to determine our next steps,” Adelaide said, rising from her seat. “I realize that none of you know what a brain is or how to bloody use it, but I’ll be working with Aiden to see about inventing something to make you all less daft.”
“I think she secretly likes us,” Zephyr said, when Adelaide left the room.
Rio slapped him on the shoulder on his way out of the room. “I think she’s soulless, but I also kind of think she’s cute, like a menacing little leprechaun girl,” he said.
“So thanks for getting Connor out of there so efficiently,” Zephyr said, turning toward Rox.
“It appears my job is mostly to drag werewolves out of places so you can kick ass,” Rox said, her tone serious. She hadn’t felt the same since returning to the Institute, but didn’t really know why. Something had shifted in her when at the airport.
“Your job is to have my back, which you’ve done each time we’ve been out there,” Zephyr said, pointing at the wall, but meaning the world.
Was he being nice to her? He always seemed more endeared to her immediately after a battle, but otherwise he was mostly ambivalent to her presence. Maybe that’s what had Rox down. She knew that she and Zephyr were a good match, but was getting tired of playing his game. He was so distant and yet, his looks at her seemed to be begging for attention. She pulled her gaze down to her paisley fingernails, freshly covered in a wrap.
“My job is working for the Institute,” she said. “Don’t confuse this as a buddy operation.”
He tilted his chin to the side. “I wouldn’t call you my buddy.”
“No, we’re not fuck buddies?” she said, saying the question that had been plaguing her. And what did she care if they were? Why did it matter? She was an FBI agent who would return to her role when this werewolf case was over. Everything would go back to how it was. She’d return to one-night stands and building her savings accounts so she could buy her cottage on the top of a mountain in Southern California, or maybe it would be some place more remote like Oregon.
“I don’t really like that term. I think that what we have going on deserves to be referred to more respectfully,” Zephyr said.
“When have you ever showed me much respect?” Rox said, pushing to a standing position. “Just let me do my job and I’ll leave you alone going forward.”
Zephyr reached out, using a speed that he owned due to the wolf. His fingers wrapped around Rox’s waist and he pulled her toward him. The smell unique to him swathed Rox and she knew she was a goner. It was always this way with Zephyr. It was the reason she was trying to push him away, to guard herself. His other hand came around her neck, encouraging her down, and he didn’t have to work hard. Automatically her mouth sank into his and she kissed him, hard at first, before the act turned into slow presses of her lips against his. Then his tongue caressed her bottom lip and she moaned softly against his mouth. It was then she realized that if this relationship progressed further, she’d be powerless to him. Her heart would finally be owned and that was absolutely the most horrendous thing she could consider and also the one thing she’d longed for all her life.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Clay Morris – Age: Thirty. Height: Five foot, nine inches. Weight: One hundred sixty-five pounds. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Green. Ethnicity: White. Employment: Government contractor. Skill: Unclassified. Rank: Unknown.”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Adelaide was tired of this shit. Most of the time that she visited, Connor was in the infirmary. He was either starving, recovering from an overdose, or healing after a surgery. He probably should be grateful that the Lucidite medical staff were the best in the world and had easily saved his life and repaired his organs damaged from the attack by Wolf X. He should hope that he was still sedated by drugs so he didn’t have to deal with her. However, she knew from talking to Dr. Parker that Connor was sitting up and taking liquids, even though it had only been a day since his surgery. He’d have scars, but that was something that Connor should be used to.
He pulled his head up with a slow grace, away from the book he’d been reading, when she entered. She’d had a bundle of books delivered to keep him company. Most would have seen that as a considerate act, but those idiots would be wrong.
“Oh look, it’s the girl who thoughtfully had every religious textbook delivered for my reading enjoyment,” he said, a smile in his voice. Connor picked up the book next to his legs covered in blankets. “The Koran, great choice.” Then he pointed to the stack beside his bed. “The Bible, Bhagavad Gita, and Tanakh. I never took you as the religious type.”
“I thought I’d offer you ways to save your soul,” Adelaide said, looking Connor over. He was full of color, probably due to the many vitamin boosts the healers had offered him. The Lucidites had medicines and supplements that could do astonishing things.
Connor released a small laugh, pressing his hand to his side as he did, probably to guard his injury. “That was kind of you, but I’m guessing that book of yours has more ways to save myself than any of these books,” he said, flicking his hand at the religious texts.
“You’re probably right. If my hunch is correct, my father died and figured out how to save his soul at the same time,” Adelaide said, biting down on her lip, her eyes suddenly distant.
“What is it?” Connor said.
Adelaide didn’t look at him, didn’t much think she could. “What do you mean?”
“You got this look on your face just now,” he said.
“Oh, do most people smile when they speak about their dead father?” she said, wishing the conversation didn’t always turn like this with Connor. He constantly seemed to have her talking about Ren or things that were too personal, like her own addictions and shortcomings.
“No, but most also don’t look as removed about the whole thing like you. It’s like it didn’t happen to you. Like you’re recalling someone else’s memory,” he said.
“That’s ridiculous and doesn’t sound as poetic as you’re trying to make it,” she said.
“But it sounds a little poetic,” he teased.
“You’re in high spirits for someone who was attacked by a super werewolf,” she said. “
I told them you shouldn’t get any painkillers or sedatives.”
“That was thoughtful of you. The pain after surgery was pretty horrific, but I’m pretending you did it out of love and the hope that I didn’t regress into addiction again,” he said.
“I did it because I wanted you to suffer,” Adelaide said. She paused, staring straight at him, angry and also strangely endeared to the guy before her. And she was only mad because he’d left when he said he wouldn’t. “You promised,” she said and then nothing else. He would know what she was referring to.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Connor said, leaning back, covering his forehead with the back of his arm. Now without the usual garment obscuring his neck she noticed the tattoo that was always hidden. It was a flower. A hibiscus. Red and green and quite beautiful. “I had to leave. I just had to do something. I needed to be a part of the change.”
“So you went and got yourself speared by a werewolf. Good call. Way to be a real change agent,” she said. But she understood. It was hard sitting on the sidelines. And she’d noticed that Connor had taken a more prideful stance since he returned from his drug vacation.
“I thought that since I didn’t have anything to lose, that I stood the best chance of taking Wolf X down. Even if I died doing it, what did it really matter?” he said, no pity in his voice.