Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V

by Buffi BeCraft

  Her cheeks heated at the teasing. She fidgeted, itching to pace the confined space. Suddenly, she realized that felt better than she had in a long time. Some of that, she supposed, could be due to Dr. Drake’s methods. She still wasn’t sure why the strange scientist would help them heal when the experiments were designed to kill. It was something to think about, later, while she was still clear-headed.

  For now, she leaned forward, intent on her conversation. Naomi wished she could see the were-panther face while they talked and she hadn’t touched another person in so long… Nathan made her feel like a person again, like an embarrassed girl. “No,” she corrected, “I mean secure in your faith. That there is a purpose to what we’ve suffered.” The sudden silence made Naomi dig her fingers into the thin mat. Goodness, she hoped she hadn’t offended him. Morrow the tiger’s soft snore told just how much the interaction had worn him out.

  Small sounds came from Nathan’s side. Unseen, she could only attribute them to his settling in. Perhaps some dissatisfaction with her line of questioning? She should have shut up while she was ahead. “I’m sorry.” It was just that it had been so long since she’d really talked to anyone. Around them the rest of the lab was silent, a testament the efficiency of the nightly sedative given to the rest of the prisoners. Before Dr. Drake, she too had been comatose in the prime talking and planning hours.

  “Wait a moment.” The panther’s soft answer came back. “I’m trying to figure out how to answer without sounding insane or like an ass.” Nathan’s earnestness made her smile. He growled a little, his impatience evident to her ears. He sighed. “I’ll probably come off sounding like a traitor too. It’s not like that, but bear with me.”

  “Okay.” She had time.

  “Ever since I was a small kit, I’ve had dreams.” Nathan’s low voice was unsure, a testament to how personal his revelation was. “Leopard-kin know our duties. We haven’t forgotten our life-tasks. We roam in the belief that the goddess directs our paths to where we are needed. We settle and breed when the time is right and prepare the kits to do the same.

  “In my dreams, the Bastet is every cat, even the mundane ones, like the Leo. From the clans, the magical temple cats, all the way down to a mangy stray housecat, they are all a part of Her. And she weeps for us.”

  He paused, as if waiting for Naomi to scoff. She couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the werepanther’s concept of the elusive vengeful cat god. Most preferred to worship the goddess at respectful distance. See no evil, speak no evil, and maybe she will leave you alone. “A loving goddess. That’s different.” He laughed again. The self-depreciating chuckle made her smile. She wanted to reciprocate his gesture, her voice lowering as she revealed her innermost fear of being crazy. “I have dreams too.”

  The whispered confession brought her dreams back as clear as a movie. Both Mathais and the other man’s dark hair and eyes saw clear to her soul. Neither was handsome in the traditional way; they were rough men. When she slept, man—definitely from this age— and the ancient Leo were the same. His power, the power of their people, made her blood sing and the birthmark on her breast burn with acknowledgement.

  Every time Naomi dreamed about him, she wanted more. Sometimes forgot that she wasn’t Naomam and missed the queen’s life. Waking didn’t dispel her feeling. No, in fact, just the opposite. She needed him more each time she woke. Shaking her head to dispel the disturbing needs and images, she tried to focus on the panther’s words. “What do you dream of?”

  “Lately?” the significant pause told much. “Lately, I dream of running with the wolves.” When she didn’t answer. The sheer shock of such a thought, even in a dream, held her tongue while Nathan tried to sully her view of him. “See, my Lia? I told you I have traitorous dreams.”

  “Maybe not. Why do you dream of running with the wolves? They’re more than just anti-social. The wolven think they’re better than the rest of us.” She wasn’t bitter, but well-versed in the ways of how the different supernatural groups interacted. “They kill any other supernatural predator they find in their territory. A few of the less crazy Packs just escort undesirables over their borders. Those megalomaniacs would come out of the supernatural closet if they could, just to make their territory claims legal in human courts.”

  “How long have you been here, Lia?” Nathan’s soft question made the hackles on the back of her neck prickle. She shifted, sensing the importance of the question.

  “More than a year. Why?”

  “Because we aren’t a secret anymore. Seven months ago, the vampires released footage to a major news station of a mixed group of supernaturals fighting a terrorist religious cult.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Naomi gasped.

  “What cult?” Morrow the tiger asked.

  “I thought you were sleeping, Tigre.” Nathan didn’t sound as if he believed that.

  “Only for a moment. What cult?”

  “The Church of the Clean.” Nathan could have been talking about aliens from outer space for all she knew. “The first clips were of Changed wolven rescuing the church’s prisoners. The vampires decided to use the opportunity to come out of the closet and drag the rest of us with them.”

  “You said they showed clips of a mixed group of supernaturals.” The idea of the mundane world knowing her true nature scared the living daylights out of Naomi.

  “Yeah. It was a mess. Still is.” Tension and worry laced Nathan’s voice. She’d probably smell it in the air, but the presence of so much cleaner from his cell kept a lot of his scent markers disguised. “Later, after the vampires came out and shouts of computer graphics tampering started getting tossed around, the vampires ran some of the clips of those who assisted the wolven in the fight.

  “The vampires picked a spokesman to let the government question and run tests on. The Wolven Council picked their own lamb to slaughter a couple of weeks later and shipped that poor schmuck to Washington. So far, the vampires and the wolven are the law-abiding, civilized face of the supernatural.”

  “Why call the Church of the Clean a terrorist cult?” Morrow’s tiredness turned into an angry energy that she easily picked up on as they discussed what every supernatural feared. Exposure and persecution.

  “Because that’s what they are,” Disgust filled Nathan’s words; his scent was hot and angry. “They came with missiles and automatic weapons to kill a group of people who are different. The Church of the Clean tortured an innocent schoolteacher to death because he was wolven. That kid had never done anything in his life to merit that. They killed a werecheetah who’d showed up at their so-called church revival to pray for her dead grand-kits. How else would you describe a terrorist?”

  A thought came to Naomi. Her very faint hope crumbled to ash. Dreams did not come true. “You were there,” she accused. Cats did not fight alongside wolves! Their people co-existed with others as needed, but the wolven didn’t coexist with anyone. “How could you fight with them? Why?” She knew she sounded angry and narrow-minded.

  “Because if any of us are to survive this new age, we are going to have to form new alliances.” Nathan said. “We have to have a voice. Some kind of leadership. Or the human government is going to exploit us.”

  “I know you’re lying now.” Naomi spat. “Leadership. Ha! We do not look to the wolves or vampires for a leader. The cats bow to no one.” Her anger at being duped spilled over. “Humans are too mired in their technology to believe in magic. They explain away any hint of the supernatural. The psychics are just humans who can’t handle their own evolution. They kill because they can’t not believe they are one of us.”

  Naomi stopped her tirade as noise caught her attention. Neither of the males said a word as their focus centered on the entrance to the lab. “Do you hear that?” she whispered. The three of them stayed silent, pretending sleep, as the automatic laboratory doors swooshed open. Dr. Drake paused in the doorway, slumping and taking a huff of air as if trying to catch his breath. The second man made her hair stand
on end. She lowered her head. Had she been in her lioness form, she’d have arched her back and hissed like a common cat. The enemy had arrived.

  Faust Kemlec, immaculate in his tailored suit walked by each of the cells. His hands behind his back, he peered in at each subject as if he were taking a holiday at the zoo.

  “You’ve had a chance to evaluate every cell and lab on this level. So, tell me, Drake. What is the problem with project Achilles? Why are the werewolf subjects more tolerant of my virus than the other shape shifters?” The scent of psychic rolled off Kemlec. The smell made her stomach lurch, like that of someone that had overindulged on a good thing. At one time, the scent would have made her feel more protective towards the man, but his kind had done too much. The psychics had taken their phobia too far. “Well?” Kemlec’s muddy hazel eyes fixed on the scientist’s impassive countenance.

  Dr. Drake picked up his clipboard from his station, his attention fixed on the notes there. “Inconclusive. Vampires do not contract the virus. You have not been able to obtain a dragon for—.”

  “Enough!” Kemlec shouted. He swept a tray of medical paraphernalia to the floor. His face mottled red with his tantrum. He pointed one finger at Drake. “You are supposed to be the premier authority on the supernatural biology. Find out why my super-flu virus doesn’t work. Develop one that does work,” his finger swung around to point at Naomi huddled in the back of her cell. “Or join them.”

  Dr. Drake stilled, his face expressionless. His fingers flexed on his clipboard. “Sir, I am not—.”

  Kemlec snorted, not a pretty sight for the balding round faced man. “Don’t try telling me you’re not one of us Drake. I know your family. And I can sense psychic power.”

  Dr. Drake bowed his head. The odd neutrality of his scent masked what he felt from Naomi, but she imagined he wasn’t happy about the threat. “Of course, Mr. Kemlec.”

  The standard ring of a cell phone erupted from Kemlec’s breast pocket. Snatching the phone out, he pressed the device to one ear. “What is it Marie?”

  The woman’s voice on the other end was crisp and professional, and clear as a bell with the advantage of supernatural hearing. “Sorry to bother you sir, but the accountant that came to our attention yesterday has made progress in uncovering the various accounts used to fund project Achilles.”

  Kemlec’s beady eyes squinted. With his heavy jowls, he looked like a TV mob boss getting ready to order a hit. “Yeah? How much progress?”

  “I believe he just left the underground lab levels, sir.” The assistant replied.

  “Well, hell.” Kemlec paused, moving the phone to his chest. “From auditing to snooping in seventy-two hours. That is progress. Damn, I hate killing good accountants.” He stared hard at Dr. Drake, making good on that mob boss analogy in Naomi’s head. “Remember what I said, Doctor Drake. I want a way to kill off the werewolves by the end of the week. Then see how to replicate it for the other species.”

  “The feline studies are close to completion, sir.” The huge scientist’s sir seemed forced. His unaffected attitude cracked just a bit as his fingers flexed against the clipboard. “I have been reviewing Dr. Corban’s research. Not all of his notes were entered into the computer.”

  Kemlec cut a hand through the air. “No. Corban was useless. I don’t care why cats can interbreed and get purebred litters. I don’t care why they can’t infect us. That’s a bonus in my book. If they can contract the Achilles virus, they will die just fine.” Putting the phone back to his ear, he turned to leave the laboratory. “Get rid of the cats, Drake, and commission some werewolves. I want results.”

  The doors swished open as Kemlec returned to his phone conversation. “Marie? About that accountant. Is he human or psychic?” Naomi didn’t need to hear Marie’s answer. Kemlec huffed a put out sigh. “Damn, woman. Lay off hiring the humans. How am I supposed to get werewolves for the lab if you keep hiring nulls?”

  * * * *

  Dr. Drake watched the doors close behind Kemlec. Turning, he made his way back to his station and carefully set his clipboard down on his desk. Even now, at night in an emergency meeting with his boss, he wore latex gloves and a lab coat. Naomi wondered if the scientist was phobic or just using good sense in the workplace. Without hurrying, he bent to open the small refrigeration unit that held his vast collection of samples.

  “Nice disguise doc.” The difference in Nathan’s voice almost made Naomi wonder if someone else was awake. Sarcasm replaced the deference he’d given her and Morrow. “I almost didn’t recognize you in the new getup. Though I’ve got to admit, the glasses add a nice touch. Very Clark Kent.”

  Dr. Drake straightened, his dark impassive gaze taking in the bay of cells he was responsible for. Naomi could almost see a smile ghost at the corners of the scientist’s mouth before he moved out of sight. The clank of the cage opening slapped her as hard as Nathan’s obvious defection. “Nathan. How do you feel?”

  “I’ve felt worse,” the panther told him. “Thanks, but we’re not leaving. You’ve got the same look in your eyes that your real boss gets when he’s about lock down the home front and send out the troops.”

  “I’ll go if you’re offering.” Morrow said.

  “No,” Nathan insisted. “It’s not time. We’re waiting.”

  “Oh, what now?” Naomi abandoned her spot at the back of her cage. She pressed as close to the bars as she could, without touching the vicious silver. She wanted to taste freedom again. “You run with the psychics too?”

  “Nathan, if I do not remove you and the others in my care immediately, then Faust Kemlec will kill you himself. He is not only a brilliant businessman, but an extremely prejudiced supernatural-phobe.”

  “Supernatural-phobe?” Nathan laughed. “I know you talk in gibberish most of the time, Doc. But you’re making this up as you go along, right?”

  “You do not want to stay for Kemlec’s big unveiling.” Now it was Dr. Drake’s turn to lower his voice. The perfectly reasonable, logical turn took on a darker urgent quality. “You heard him. He desires a virus that will infect every supernatural, ultimately killing off anything with any magical ability. Go home, Nathan. Take them with you.”

  “I take it that Kemlec isn’t lumping himself into that group.” Naomi ventured. She could see the ramifications of a virus like that. Many psychics had such minor abilities that they were considered human, but they weren’t. They used small magics without realizing it. How many humans had a bit of untapped fairy or other supernatural blood running through their veins?

  “No. He is not,” Dr. Drake answered her, but his attention apparently stayed with the werepanther. “Nathan, I never intended for the cats to stay past their recovery.”

  “Where did you plan to send them, doc?” he taunted. “Palestine? Think the wolven will allow everyone to hang out at their place? Or has the local fairy lord opened a supernatural animal sanctuary?”

  “I…” Drake faltered. “Packhome is the only safe place. The wolven Pack is fairly lenient in that regard.”

  Nathan snorted. “Haven’t you heard? Packhome is gone, wolf. Geesh, you people need to watch the news. The church burned it down to the ground.” He waited while the revelation sunk in. “Those of us who helped evict the Church of the Clean from your territory didn’t get any special treatment. We got drafted into your damned Pack, then the alpha told us we weren’t good enough to hang with them. Don’t get me wrong, some like the protection that living on the fringes of your Pack’s territory gives. But that’s not acceptance. It’s barely tolerance.”

  “Nope.” The panther paused, his tone hard. “I am needed here, and by whatever you hold holy, I am staying here until I do what has to be done.” Nathan’s words brought a flash of Naomi’s dream back. Her all-powerful dream man curled up on himself in horrible pain while she was helpless to do anything for him. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to make sense of the situation. What was the truth?

  Dr. Drake stepped back. Naomi could see the w
olf in the scientist’s eyes now, though his scent still lied. His dark skin took on an ashen quality, obviously taking an emotional hit from the panther’s revelations. “Fine. Stay.” He clipped his words as he moved to open his station, taking out the trays and setting them on the counter. From her place in her cell, she watched him sort through his cabinets. “I have transportation for the lioness and the tiger waiting.”

  “I’m staying,” Naomi said, feeling, the need to stick close. Cats stuck together, though Nathan sounded a bit touched in the head. Cats running with the wolves. Delusional panthers following Bastet. Good grief, what next? She hoped she wasn’t sorry about passing up this chance to escape. “I’ll leave when Nathan leaves.”

  “Me too,” growled Morrow.

  Chapter Three

  With a last glance inside the room and down the hallway for hidden monsters, Matthew stepped into the room. He walked around the desk, half expecting to find the accountant laid out on the floor from a heart attack. Reports and scribbled sticky notes littered the floor. Milton Hambly was a neat freak. Uneasiness crawled up his back. Matthew hoped he wasn’t looking at a crime scene.

  Completing his circuit around the desk, he considered the perfectly spaced filing cabinets, filing up the entire wall. Almost two inches separated each of the six cabinets. Hambly’s degrees displayed above the filing cabinets. Educational penis envy ran rampant at BioPet.

  Bending down, Matthew studied the bit of blue that caught his eye behind the filing cabinets. Squinting, he decided that the roll looked a lot like blueprints. But with the files spaced so close, he’d never reach them. Matthew glanced around to find anything long enough that he could slide the tube of paper upward with. Finding nothing off hand, he shoved the books aside and attempted to wrestle the cabinet. He frowned when the thing wouldn’t budge. What was locked inside? Bricks?

  After one more glance at the blueprint, Matthew sighed. He wanted them. They could be nothing. Or they could be something pretty important. The ‘feeling’ that had been bothering him all night screamed the latter, and was getting louder. Crouching back down, he let out a breath. Slipping a hand between the cabinets, he let the cool metal seep into his palm. He could do this. Using his ability did not make him a freak.