The Shifter's Choice

by Jenna Kernan

  Johnny shifted in a nervous gesture as if trying to get comfortable on the stainless-steel surface.

  “Do you have any questions?” the doctor asked.

  Johnny shook his head and retracted his gums, silently asking for the injection. He had already signed the releases holding the U.S. Marines blameless if anything happened.

  Captain MacConnelly stepped forward. “I’m right here, Johnny. Don’t worry.”

  Johnny nodded.

  Zharov drew a long breath and lifted the needle. The fluid inside looked like blood. Sonia felt her entire body tense. Would it hurt him?

  “Private, please step out,” said Zharov.

  Johnny grasped her hand and then signed.

  “‘My translator. She’ll report what I feel,’” Sonia said.

  Zharov grimaced. “This won’t be pleasant, Lam. Just bringing this to your attention.”

  Johnny held his hand palm up and bent his fingers.

  “He’s ready,” she said, finding her voice as harsh as coarse sandpaper on metal.

  The doctor told Johnny to open his mouth and then he stuck the needle into the pink flesh between the upper and lower jaw as if Johnny were a dental patient being prepped for a root canal.

  Sonia felt a hysterical bubble of laughter rising inside her. Johnny lifted his hand toward her and she took it gladly. She had the irrational thought that if she just held him tightly enough, it would keep him safe. He squeezed her hand and winked. She squeezed back looking at his familiar yellow eyes as her heart thumped in her throat so hard that it hurt to breathe.

  She signed with one hand. So afraid to lose you.

  I am right here.

  What happens next? Do you feel anything?

  Johnny’s eyes fluttered closed. He drew a long sharp breath. His eyes popped open and Sonia stared. They were no longer yellow, but brown. Deep as dark chocolate, so dark that she could not see his irises.

  “Johnny?”

  His fingers went slack but she held on. Then his body slumped. His mouth gaped and he gasped as if suddenly struck in the stomach. His back arched.

  “Step away.” Zharov pushed her aside. Johnny’s hand slipped from hers. “The transformation takes several minutes,” the doctor said to her.

  Sonia was breathing so fast she felt dizzy. But she refused to faint. Johnny’s eyes rolled back so she could see only white and his muscles spasmed into one long rigor followed by a seizure.

  “Normal,” said the doctor staring at the monitor on the EKG. Johnny’s heart rate was fast and the usual up and down of the heart monitor’s moving line seemed to be flattening out. Sonia looked back to Johnny to see the fur on his arms dropping away in great hairy clumps leaving patches of perfect smooth skin.

  “That doesn’t happen when I change,” said MacConnelly to the doctor.

  “Normal,” he repeated. “Just like the subjects we studied.”

  “Not normal,” said MacConnelly. “I don’t lose my coat. It just changes with the rest of me.”

  “You and Johnny are different. You make the necessary protein to allow you to change back and forth.”

  Johnny’s teeth receded into his bleeding gums as his jaw bone retracted with a cracking sound that turned Sonia’s stomach. Johnny arched and the leads attached to his head fell away with the ones on his chest. The straps were now too big as his entire body contracted. Muscles corded. She could see his muscles.

  Johnny cried out once and she realized it was a sound she had never heard. A sound of agony but the sound made by a man with the vocal cords of a human being.

  She couldn’t watch him writhe, so she threw herself across his body, gripping him tight as he bucked beneath her.

  “Oh, God, make it stop.”

  “Get her out of here,” ordered Zharov.

  Sonia was bustled from the room. The door clicked shut behind her. She stood gasping and panting as she stared through the small window. They surrounded him. Fur fell from the table in black clumps landing at their feet like hair on the floor of a beauty salon.

  She could see only the men’s backs and the jumping line of the EKG. It was spiking impossibly fast. Her knees gave way. Someone caught her.

  “Hold on, Touma.” That sounded like the captain’s voice, but it was so far away. Why couldn’t she see anything?

  * * *

  Dora Morton huddled in the filthy packing crate. Shouting did not bring help. Banging on the solid padded walls brought no rescue. Soundproof they had said and so it was. Dora shifted her weight and groaned. Even her remarkable ability to heal did not bring her full recovery from her capture by the male vampires.

  She thought of their pitiless leader. He had malevolent cloudy eyes and freakish white skin that looked waxy as a beluga whale’s. Her shoulders shook as she wept. They had taken her in Hawaii. The miles of ocean water had not protected her after all. Her mother had been wrong about that, but not wrong when she had told her daughter that vampires were ugly, but, oh, even her terrible descriptions had not done them justice.

  Her poor mother had done nothing but try to protect her child and their terrible secret. And for that, they had attacked her. Had her mother survived?

  Dora’s clothing still stank of them. But that was better than what awaited her. She’d met a female years ago, one who had been through it. She had explained it to Dora’s mother. The ones who hunted her were vampires. Her daughter was a vampire, too, with the power to self-heal and to inspire greatness in mortal men. And she was fast as the wind. But not, she now knew, faster than the males.

  Dora shifted in the foam padding and tried again to claw through the steel beneath. The metal burned her skin, forcing her to retreat again to the protection of the foam. Even through the padding, the metal made her head pound and her stomach heave. It was like being buried alive in a crypt. The long rectangular box was large from the outside. She had seen it. But inside it was a steel coffin. They shipped her as a dead body. She wasn’t dead. No vampire was. Just other than human. If they went underground, it was only to hide from mortal eyes. That’s what the woman had told them. A different species. A parasite. A predator. The bile rose in her throat and she went still.

  “Please don’t be sick.” There was no telling how long she would be in this box. Would the air last? If she survived this trip, when they took her out she knew what would be waiting. The vampire woman had told them.

  Ten years in their underground hive. Ten years of indoctrination, bearing children and then, finally, if she learned her lessons well, she might be set out on mortal men as an elite assassin, able to kill merely by spending a night with a man. Ten years without the sun. She’d be twenty-five then.

  God help her and God help any female they captured.

  * * *

  Sonia came around to find herself stretched out on an orange vinyl couch. The ceiling tiles and lights shone relentlessly down on her and she blinked as she glanced about. She seemed to be in a waiting room of some kind. What was she doing here?

  The answer swept down on her with such a rush that she felt as if she were under attack.

  “Johnny!”

  Sonia pushed herself up to a seated position and her head swam again. Had she fainted? Heat flooded her face with the shame. She was a marine, for God sakes, but a poor one. Johnny asked her to stay with him and she had fainted like a little girl who was afraid of blood.

  But she wasn’t afraid of blood. She was afraid of that heart monitor and those electrodes. She scanned the room, surprised to find herself alone. Well, they had more important things to deal with than her. A moment later a marine stepped into the room chewing on a chocolate bar. His eyes snapped to hers as he froze and then glanced behind him. He definitely looked as if she had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Was he told to watch her?

  “You’re awake,” he said, trying for a friendly smile, but the lump of candy bar in his cheek ruined the effect. He quickly choked it down and stowed the rest, torn wrapper and all, in his
pants pocket. “I’m Corporal Gail. How are you feeling?”

  She’d lost her hat, she realized and her neat bun had come loose. Where were her hair ties? Sonia pushed herself to a stand and then grasped the couch back for a moment as she swayed.

  Gail came forward reaching. “Take it easy now.”

  She lifted a hand to stop him. “Where is Lam?”

  “Moved to Recovery.”

  “Alive?” She held her breath.

  He nodded. “Last I knew.”

  “Where?”

  “They told me to send word to the captain when you were awake.”

  “You do that, Corporal. I’m going to Recovery.” She walked past him and she saw his hand snake out. She glared at him. He changed his mind and motioned down the hall. “This way.”

  He stopped at the recovery room door before the large sign that read Authorized Personnel Only. Do Not Enter.

  Sonia pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was activity at only one of the curtained cubbies. She headed for the sound of the beeping heart monitor. Her steady, hurried step slowed as she crossed the large white floor tiles. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears as she saw Zharov standing at the foot of a bed beside the captain and Major Scofield. All three stood grave and silent. But the monitor beeped so Johnny’s heart was beating. Wasn’t it?

  But what if he was on life support? She imagined the machines keeping him alive and listened for the hiss of a respirator. Please, God, don’t let him be brain-dead.

  Scofield saw her first and offered her a smile, looking both tired and worried. She came to stand beside the major forgetting to salute in her hurry to see Johnny.

  Zharov spoke. “None of the test subjects lost consciousness.”

  She glanced at the bed, her eyes moving up the white sheets that covered him from his feet to his waist. His arms rested still beside his hips, as if placed there. Human arms, arms that were well muscled and had just a dusting of black hair on the forearms. There was a monitor on his index finger and an IV taped to the back of both hands. His broad, muscular chest looked like a circuit box with all the electrodes running every which way. The sight of him so still and helpless made her throat go tight and her breath catch.

  They’d managed to put a needle into him, so his skin was normal again. That was good, wasn’t it? And Johnny was very definitely a man. He wore no hospital gown and so she noted the clean line of his collar bones as it swept from his muscular shoulders to the V below his Adam’s apple. She inhaled quick and sharp as her body reacted to the sight of him. His skin was smooth and slightly lighter than her own light brown Latina coloring. And then she looked at his face, first taking in the dark shock of straight chin length black hair that fell back to the snowy pillows. Her fingers itched to rake through that thick hair. Johnny no longer had a G.I. haircut. She next studied his face. He had a strong jawline, broad forehead and thick arched brows. His eyelashes were full and feathery against his cheeks. His face was square with a long nose and a wide generous mouth. It was a striking face. A stranger’s face. Sonia frowned. She knew Johnny well, but she did not know this man.

  “It worked,” she whispered.

  MacConnelly glanced at her and then back at his comrade. “They don’t know why he won’t wake up.”

  Zharov tapped the tip of his pen to his lower lip as he stared at his patient as if he were some puzzle. “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s perfect.”

  The captain motioned toward the bed. “He’s out.”

  “Brain activity normal, everything normal.”

  “Except his eyes are closed,” reminded the captain.

  Sonia inched past the men.

  Scofield rested a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you speak to him, Touma. Let him know you’re here.”

  She wanted to say that she didn’t know this man. That she wanted Johnny back. But that notion was so completely ridiculous she merely nodded and leaned forward.

  “Johnny? You in there? It’s time for your lesson.”

  Johnny did not move but his heart rate increased. She lifted his slack hand and turned it palm up. Then she began to finger spell into his palm as she spoke.

  “Come on now. Lesson then swimming.”

  His eyeballs moved beneath his closed lids and then he went slack again.

  “Say something else,” ordered Zharov, his body tense, his gaze alert.

  Sonia gripped Johnny’s hand and leaned forward whispering into his normal, well-shaped ear as she signed into his palm. “Johnny, wake up. You promised to take me dancing.”

  His fingers threaded with hers. She drew back enough to see his eyes snap open. Brown eyes, she realized, deep, dark, lovely eyes. Where were the yellow ones she had grown so accustomed to?

  He seemed to be struggling to focus but at last he flicked from her to the men behind her and then back to rest on her face. The corner of his mouth twitched and her stomach fluttered. Her visceral reaction to him so startled her that she had to press a hand to her chest in a vain attempt to slow her racing heart. She reminded herself that this was Johnny.

  Johnny’s voice came as a hoarse whisper, his vocal cords likely weak from disuse. “Is it done? Am I human?”

  “Yes. And as soon as you are up to it, you are taking me out on a date.”

  He lifted their clasped hands and stared at his own. “That’s my hand.” He pressed his free hand to his chest and then glanced up to see the three sentinels at his foot rail.

  “Welcome back, son,” said Major Scofield.

  “I told you I could do it,” said Zharov.

  “Johnny.” The captain’s voice cracked as he moved up the opposite side of the bed. Sonia stepped back as the two men embraced. Johnny’s finger monitor slipped off and the machine shrieked. The two drew apart and Zharov replaced the monitor and reset the machine.

  Johnny turned to his doctor. “When can I get out of here?”

  Sonia laughed and brushed the tears from her face. Her captain’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Tomorrow,” said Zharov.

  “Tonight,” said Johnny.

  “It’s nearly midnight, son,” said the major. “You need sleep and look at Touma. She’s practically swaying on her feet.”

  Johnny looked at her, really looked. She pushed her hair back from her face and smiled.

  “You all right?” His voice was rich and low and did funny things to her insides.

  She nodded and dropped her gaze but her skin still tingled from that look.

  “Tired?”

  “We’re all tired, Johnny.” She signed, Stay the night. I’ll stay too.

  He pursed his lips and looked to Zharov. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I have a date.”

  Johnny grinned at Sonia and her stomach did a funny little quiver. She had been fond of the wolf. But what she was feeling for Sergeant John Lam was something else entirely. Something strong and exciting and scary stirred inside her. Funny to be more afraid of him now than when he was a werewolf.

  She’d failed to keep her distance from him then. What chance did she have now? But a promise was a promise and he was taking her out tomorrow night.

  She needed a dress.

  * * *

  Sonia startled awake at the alarm, confused by her surroundings and disoriented with fatigue. The barracks, she realized. Johnny insisted she find a bed and it didn’t seem right to sleep at his place any longer. He wasn’t there and when he returned, he’d be a man. That changed everything.

  He was a man again, and one that made her insides curl up like a ribbon on a birthday gift. She’d seen his photo, of course. The captain had showed it to her, but that photo wasn’t Johnny, or a least not this Johnny. The boy in the photo had been a young marine before he’d ever seen action. Then his face was more angular, his body more lithe. Now his mouth was pure sensuality. And his body had bulk, mass and a power that she suspected came from his werewolf side. And his hair, well instead of the short bristle of a man in uniform, he now had long sweeping straight bla
ck hair that reminded her of an Asian Antonio Banderas. It was long enough to draw back at the nape of his neck, a look that she found sexy as hell.

  But there was something else, something dark. His eyes reflected a palpable danger. Time, experience and his injuries had changed him. He had transformed to human form but held on to that sharp edge of the wolf.

  Sonia stretched and rose with the other women in her barracks. They went about their business casting her odd looks as if they’d found a toadstool growing in the center of the room. She had the fastest shower of her life and then reported to the medical facility, feeling oddly uncomfortable in her fatigues. But Johnny wasn’t there. They said they had him running some physical tests and she was not going to see him until they released him at seventeen hundred hours. She couldn’t believe they were releasing him at all. He’d left her a note that was written in a crisp, bold, unfamiliar hand. His transformation would change so many things between them. She felt lost and sick to her stomach as she read that he would pick her up for their date at eighteen hundred and to leave him a message as to where to find her. She scribbled her reply on the bottom of the page explaining that she would be at Brianna’s home, then returned the note with the messenger. Then she checked to see if there was anything she was supposed to be doing. No one knew.

  She was Johnny’s translator, only he didn’t need one any longer.

  Sonia recognized that she was about as necessary as a fur coat on a weasel. John Lam no longer needed a teacher or a companion. He no longer needed his private entourage and he no longer needed her. How long until they sent her packing? Suddenly the nervous excitement of their date was replaced with a twisting anxiety. She knew how things worked. She had top secret clearance for a job that had just disappeared. What would they do with her now?

  Sonia left the base and walked up the hill to the home of Brianna and Captain MacConnelly. Brianna greeted her warmly and asked for news of Johnny. Sonia told her what she could and right there in the middle of her description of Johnny’s transformation she began to cry. She sat on Brianna’s white couch beside the arrangement of birds of paradise as her shoulders jumped like a semiautomatic rifle, her breath coming in short uneven gasps. Brianna did not come to sit beside her or wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders.