The Werewolf of Marines Trilogy

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  He was watching Judge Judy, waiting for Claire to come home, when the phone rang, the caller ID showing an 858 number. He flipped the mute on the TV and stared at the number for a moment before taking a deep breath and hitting accept.

  “Yes?” he simply said.

  “Mr. Kaas, this is Dr. Lopez. We’ve got back some preliminary results, and I needed to ask you a few more questions,” the doctor said without preamble.

  “Yes, sir. Whatever you need to know.”

  This was the first time Aiden had actually spoken with Dr. Lopez. The “interview” he undertaken after returning to Fort Bragg had been done online and with a few telephone follow-up questions by someone else in the lab.

  “When Dr. Tong asked you about your father, you indicated that you knew nothing about him. Is that true?”

  “Uh, yes, sir,” Aiden asked, a bit puzzled.

  What does my father have to do with this?

  “Are you sure? You know nothing about him?”

  “Yes, sir. Nothing. Only that he was abusive and left us when I was young.”

  “Do you remember anything about him? Can you describe him?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I mean, he was kind of tall, I think. And he was always angry. Oh, he drank a lot. I remember that.”

  “And was he always drunk?”

  “I don’t know. Yes? Maybe no. I couldn’t say.”

  “What about your mother? Does she remember anything?”

  What the fuck? No shit, Sherlock, of course, she remembers. She was married to him. What’s the big deal?

  “I’d say so,” he said instead. “She was married to him, but we never talk about him.

  “Uh, why is this important? It’s me you’re testing, not him.”

  “Because, Mr. Kaas, something interesting has popped up in your markers. And that is why I’m calling you instead of one of my staff. There’s no question but that your father was of the Tribe.”

  Chapter 34

  Aiden pulled down the phone and stared at it as if it could explain what the doctor had just said.

  He slowly brought it back up and stupidly asked “What?”

  “Your father, Mr. Kaas. He was of the Tribe.”

  “My father? My biological father? What . . . how do you know that?”

  “My dear boy, what do you think we’re doing in this lab? Of course, we know that. Your DNA reveals all, as it does for every living thing on the planet.”

  “My father? Are you sure? Who is he?”

  “That, Mr. Kaas, is still a mystery. I’ve run your results up against the tribal data base, and there isn’t a match.”

  “But you said the DNA tells all. Why can’t it tell me?”

  “The DNA does tell all,” Dr. Lopez said in a condescending tone, “but we have to have the data with which to compare the findings. Your father is of the Tribe, but not a member of the Tribe.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t get it.”

  “He’s a feral, a lone wolf with no contact with us.”

  “You mean a rogue? Like Colonel Tarnition?”

  “That’s the name of the human you turned? No, not like him. We sometimes are a little inexact in our terminology. In this case, ‘feral’ simply means someone outside of the Tribe. They still have to be hunted down, and if they refuse to abide by our rules, be exterminated, but they are not necessarily rogues running amok and killing humans indiscriminately.

  “‘Kaas’ is of German and Dutch origin, and your DNA markers does indicate a lineage that falls in line with our people from that region. I’ve done a preliminary search of the name in the United States. There are a number of Kaas families in Wisconsin and New York and a handful of families scattered across the rest of the country. No one, though, is an obvious hit. As soon as I forward my findings, however, I am sure the Council will want to track your father down.”

  So they can kill him, Aiden thought with distaste.

  Aiden harbored very ill feelings for his father, but he didn’t want the man who had given him life hunted down and slaughtered.

  “I’d like you to contact your mother and get any information on your father that you can. Photos would be beneficial. We need to find him.”

  “Yes, sir, I will,” Aiden said, doubting that he would follow through.

  “But where does that leave me?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you were testing me because I’ve turned a human.”

  “That should be obvious, Mr. Kaas.”

  “But it isn’t. I don’t have much of a background in this stuff.”

  “I don’t think you need much of a background on the science,” Dr. Lopez said with emphasis on the word “science,” “but I’ll humor you. Your father is of the Tribe. So you are not a kreuzung. You are a seminal construct, or as we say, a blood.”

  Aiden sat there in stunned silence for a moment before saying, “But my mother, she’s human, right?”

  “Yes, of course, she is. If she wasn’t, you would have accomplished your first shift long ago and without a goad. But our laws are firm in that a child of a human and one of the Tribe is of the Tribe upon his first shift. This has stood the test of time.”

  “But Omar Muhmood turned me, not any genes my father gave me.”

  “No, he didn’t, which is why the test of your DNA failed to show the connection we expected. What Muhmood did was trigger the existing transformation that has been in you all along. Since you never made the transformation after puberty, it is doubtful that you would ever have made it on your own. It took Muhmood’s trigger. Regardless, you are now a blood.”

  “So that explains how I could turn the oth—turn the other person. Colonel Tarnition,” he hurriedly switched what he almost blurted out.

  “Of course. You are a blood not a kreuzung, so you would be like anyone else.”

  “Even if I am only half-werewolf?”

  “Your Tribe genes might have been recessive,” the doctor said, “but just as with anything else in life, recessive does not negate the ‘ownership,’ if I can use a layman’s term, of those genes. You are what you are, and once the initial transformation was triggered, your genetic inheritance took over.”

  “So I can do everything that a full-blooded were—I mean Tribe member can do,” Aiden asked, catching what he’d thought was a slight bit of disdain from the doctor when he’d used the “werewolf” term a moment ago.

  “Well, yes and no. Anything is possible, but normally, those like you with a human parent generally can only shift to the varg form, and if they do turn a human, that human usually doesn’t survive the transformation. But it does happen, as to which your own experience attests.

  “And with that, I need to get back to my work. It has been a pleasure, Mr. Kaas, and as usual, science has solved the little conundrum your appearance on the scene had created. But now we realize that there was nothing extraordinary going on.

  “I do want that information on your father, however, at your earliest convenience. I will need to forward that to the Council along with my full report.”

  “Uh, sure. And thank you—” Aiden started before realizing the phone was already dead. The doctor had hung up.

  Aiden’s thoughts were whirling like a tornado in his head. He started to dial his mother, but he wasn’t sure he knew what to ask just yet. Instead, he dialed Keenan. The four of them needed to get together ASAP to figure out what to do.

  Chapter 35

  The Cabal of Four, as Claire had started calling themselves, were back in Hozan’s apartment. As usual, Claire and Aiden were on the couch, the other two on the dining room chairs they’d pulled over to face them.

  Aiden was still in a state of shock about what he’d learned, but Hozan was all smiles as if he was vindicated of something. He’d mentioned more than once that his proclamations on how a kreuzung could not turn humans who survived had been true all along.

  Keenan, on the other hand, was more interested
in what the revelation meant for Aiden and his situation vis-à-vis the Council.

  “If Aiden’s a blood, then can they still simply put out a hit on them?” Keenan asked.

  “Well, no, not exactly. Not for being an unauthorized turning. Omar Muhmood never turned him.”

  “So Aiden is in the clear?” Claire asked.

  “Once again, I must say not exactly. There is your colonel. Aiden turned him without authorization.”

  “But that wasn’t his fault!” Claire said.

  “And what are you and Keenan?” Hozan asked.

  That silenced the room. If news of Keenan and Claire leaked out, Aiden’s position might become untenable. Ever since coming back from Emerald Isle, Claire had refused to shift, saying that the Council might have eyes on Aiden, and they’d detect it if she did.

  “And there is more,” Hozan said.

  “What now?” Aiden asked in a subdued voice.

  “You’re protector in the Council, Nemir Muhmood, what will he do now that he knows you are not of his son’s line?”

  “Mother fuck!” Keenan said to no one in particular as what Hozan said sunk in.

  “Has he said anything?” Aiden asked.

  “Not yet, and I would expect him to act with honor and tell me first if he decides to withdraw his protection. It would be his way to do so,” Hozan responded.

  “Great. So I’ll know when to expect a hunter team to come break down our door,” Aiden said sourly. “Be sure to tell him thanks.”

  Hozan turned on Aiden and barked out, “Nemir Muhmood is an honorable man, and he has kept you alive so far when all others wanted you dead. You will not speak as such about him!”

  Aiden looked up in surprise at Hozan’s reaction.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I appreciate what he’s done, even if he thought I was turned by Omar,” he stumbled out.

  Hozan looked closely into his eyes as if to weight Aiden’s sincerity.

  “If I had to guess, I do not believe Nemir Muhmood will abandon you. I only mention it as a possibility.

  “There are three factions in the Council. Mario Sepulveda, the Prime Alpha, leads one. Nemir Muhmood is part of that faction. Günter Wais leads another, and he has been consolidating his power base. And then there are the neutrals, those who do not wish to get involved with the struggles for power. This third faction considers themselves the keepers of the Tribe. They are not an organization, but those who do bother to take action tend to react in similar ways to keep the Tribe safe.”

  “And how does this center group feel about Aiden?” Claire asked.

  “I have not heard. I have only communicated with Nemir Muhmood on this. But they tend to be conservative to any threat to the Tribe.”

  “Shit,” Claire said.

  Shit is right, Aiden thought. So what do I do now?

  Chapter 36

  Nikolai Borisov tried to hide a smile as he walked the dark halls of Reichstein Castle, the 800-year edifice overlooking the Rhine. The castle has served as the de facto headquarters of the Tribe for over 200 years now. Nikolai thought the location in the middle of modern Germany was a mistake. His native Uzbekistan, with its isolated mountain valleys and ignorant and easy-to-cow humans would offer better protection, but the rest of the Tribe had softened over the years, and the allure of the trappings of human civilization was something no one wanted to give up. Claiming “tradition,” the castle on the Rhine and some depressingly bland office buildings further north in Langerich had become the focal point and center of tribal life.

  Nikolai had a low opinion of the “civilized” bloods who huddled together in an attempt to control the Tribe, something no real blood would allow. Yet, after avoiding anything to do with the Council unless absolutely necessary, he’d come to embrace the intrigue and plans-within-plans that went on in the castle or in Langerich. Günter Wais was a cretin, but a wily cretin, and Nikolai was drawn to the man. He would assist the man in his Machiavellian quest for power because it interested him. How long he’d stick around, Nikolai wasn’t sure, but for the moment, it was fun.

  And now, he had a job to do. Wais was ready to move, and he’d asked Nikolai for help. There was little risk of downside, so Nikolai had readily agreed, pleased to have a front-row seat.

  And there was his target, standing in an alcove, talking on his cell. Nemir Muhmood was a gadfly, one of Mario Sepulveda’s loyal supporters. He’d pissed off Wais to no end by interfering and protecting that unauthorized kreuzung, the American Kaas, from being exterminated. Nikolai had his own bone to pick with Kaas, who had broken up one of his profitable smuggling operations in the Hindu Kush, but from a tribal perspective, Kaas was nothing, not even a blip on the radar. Wais, though, had managed to elevate the situation until it had caused a crisis amongst the Council. Kaas had proven to be a lycan, not a kruezung, to Nikolai’s amazement (and doubt—anyone, even a scientist, can be bribed to create a desired result), and that had interjected a roadblock for Wais. So Wais had decided to act, to take the bull by the horns. Nikolai had to respect him for that. Maybe Wais deserved to be the Prime Alpha.

  Deserved or not, things were going to happen as fate would take them. And Nikolai’s job was to keep Muhmood from interfering.

  It had taken Nikolai over an hour to track down the illusive Iraqi lycan. He didn’t glance at his watch, but he knew that Wais would move soon, and once the challenge was issued, everyone in the castle would know what was happening. Nikolai was not worried for his own safety but rather about losing Muhmood in the rush to the arena once the challenge had been issued.

  He wasn’t taking anything for granted, though. There were rumors that Muhmood had taken down Losenko, Wais’ personal attentäter, one of the deadliest assassins in the Tribe. The officially accepted findings were that Kaas had killed Losenko instead, but not too many believed that. Kaas had been a new and relatively unimpressive kreuzung, while Muhmood had been a pretty imposing figure in his day.

  Still, Muhmood was old and complacent, and most of all, he undoubtedly felt safe in the castle.

  His mistake.

  Nikolai nonchalantly walked down the hallway, so old that the stone floor dipped in the center from thousands and thousands of lycan feet tramping over it. He carefully reached into his overcoat pocket and wrapped his hands around the thick wooden handle of the knife, making sure his hand was in back of the heavy copper quillon that would keep his hand from sliding up to the blade. Even with the wood and quillon, the silver tang inside the wood made his hand tingle with discomfort.

  Oneni ski,[118] I hate silver, he thought, withdrawing the knife from its lead sheathe, where the silver blade had been kept out of contact with his clothing and skin.

  Muhmood was facing three-quarters away from Nikolai, still intent on his cell. Nikolai shifted the knife to his left hand where Muhmood wouldn’t see it.

  As Nikolai reached Muhmood, he raised his right as if in greeting. Muhmood glanced up, still on his phone, and raised his own right hand in acknowledgement.

  With his left hand, Nikolai plunged the knife into Muhmood’s back, just below the rib cage, angling the blade up to catch the kidney. With a staccato series of thrusts, he withdrew and plunged the knife into Muhmood four or five times before the surprised target turned, his eyes wide as he dropped the phone where it clattered on the stone floor.

  “Why?” he started to say as he reached out to Nikolai’s throat.

  “Because of Kaas!” Nikolai told him, ignoring the hand on his throat to stab the man again and again.

  Kaas was not the real reason, Nikolai knew. It was Muhmood’s support of Sepulveda that had doomed him. But Nikolai was fond of torture, and this would surely hurt Muhmood more in the last few seconds of his life.

  He shouldn’t have ignored the hand on his throat, however, he realized as the hand gripped tighter, cutting off Nikolai’s air. Muhmood’s body started to shift, and Nikolai redoubled his stabbing, ripping open Muhmood’s belly with a torrent of blood, guts, and
liquids.

  Maybe he did kill Losenko, Nikolai thought as panic started to take over.

  He was getting weaker, and his thrusts into Muhmood were getting less frequent. He regretted leaving his home in Samarkand, knowing that no good came out of the Council.

  And then, the hand on his throat fell away. Muhmood, who had not been able to shift, slumped down on the ground, his head falling forward, chin to chest. Nikolai stood there for a good minute, gasping and catching his breath.

  Very carefully, he sheathed the knife. The silver had done its job, keeping Muhmood from shifting and not allowing him to recover. Muhmood was gone, dead as a result of his hubris.

  Nikolai allowed himself a moment of triumph. He’d done his duty, and now Wais would owe him. All thoughts of regret at being at the castle fled along with Muhmood’s death.

  An almost electrical wave swept over him, and Nikolai looked up, Muhmood forgotten. It had started.

  Nikolai was not sure exactly where he was, but he could sense the general direction. His throat still hurt, but already, his body was healing it. He stumbled towards the direction of the arena, gathering himself and gaining more control with each step. Still, with several wrong turns leading to dead ends, it took almost ten minutes to step through the doors to the stands around the arena. Twenty or thirty people were in the stands, most as humans, a few as vargs. Nikolai moved forward until he could see into the sand floor of the arena. A naked human body, bloody and limp, lay in the sand, a grey-toned lycan panting over it, snarling.

  Who is it? Nikolai wondered, suddenly realizing his predicament it things didn’t turn out as planned.

  He’d never seen Wais in his lycan form, so he didn’t recognize the wolf standing over the human body. Finally, the wolf lifted its muzzle in its victory howl. Before the echoes of that howl died away, the lycan began to shift, and within moments, Günter Wais, the new Prime Alpha stood in the middle of the arena floor.