by C. Gockel
Anti Monster League
David twitched the curtain aside enough to see the street outside. The two shadowy figures sitting in the car watching his house were still there, and he wondered whether it might be better to slip out the back. They were AML, but they hadn’t approached him. The first time he noticed them he’d gone out to talk, but when they saw him approaching, they drove off. Obviously, they were only here to watch him—a relief when he considered what AML was most known for.
He let the curtain fall and tried to get back into the book Alex had lent to him. He had a number of them that his friend said might help, but this one seemed more fiction than fact. He had to wonder if there were any books actually written by shifters—surely the only real authority on them. He would try to find out, but being a shifter wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone advertised.
He took a sip of his coffee and turned back a page trying to order his thoughts and be objective. He had just picked up the thread of what he’d been reading, when he heard another car pull up. He dropped the book on the couch beside him and rose to check the street again. He twitched the curtain aside and found Hoberman approaching his door.
“Finally,” he said and went to his desk.
He found his gun in the drawer where he always kept it, loaded it quickly, and dropped it into his jacket pocket. It was an old Model 83 revolver with two-inch barrel. No one but collectors owned such weapons anymore. He would have preferred something else, something more modern such as a police issue stunner, but such things were very hard to get without answering many questions. Gun registration was something he had always been very much in favour of, but it was working against him now. A stunner could be used on non-lethal settings, his gun could not. He was as likely to kill someone with it as wound them.
The bell rang and he went to answer it. Hoberman was waiting with two friends flanking his shoulders. “I’ve been expecting you, George.” Hoberman didn’t like anyone using his first name, that’s why he’d used it.
“May I come in?”
David shrugged and stepped back. “Why not?”
He led them into the sitting room. Hoberman’s eyes swept the space, maybe looking for witnesses, before settling back to David. His AML friends took position at his back their eyes never leaving David. Their dark jackets were unbuttoned and the tell-tale lumps under their arms told of concealed weapons. They had dead eyes, and David shivered. He might have made a mistake by allowing them in.
“This is Benjamin, and this Thomas. They are my—”
“Keepers?” David broke in.
“Bodyguards,” Hoberman said quickly. “May I sit?”
David indicated the couch and sat opposite. Hoberman’s goons did not sit. One moved to stand by the window, the other remained by the door. “You want something from me?”
“Straight to the point, we can do that. I can help you, David.”
“Help me? Help me how?”
“Don’t be naïve; you know what I’m talking about. We both know you’re looking for the animal that attacked you, and who could blame you? Really, who would blame anyone for wanting revenge?”
“I don’t want revenge, I want justice. The police—”
“The police won’t help you; you’re one of the shifters now, but you needn’t let your sacrifice be in vain. Work with me, work with us, and I promise we’ll find the one that did this to you.”
“And kill her?”
Hoberman nodded. “Or if you prefer, deliver her to you so you can do it. We can work out the details later.”
David stared, trying to see the man he had once respected. When he first joined the staff at Saint Bartholomew, he had looked upon George Hoberman as someone to emulate. He was famous in certain circles. Ian Goddard—Michelle’s father—knew him well, they had studied together. Both men were well respected members of the medical community. He couldn’t believe how naïve he had been to believe Hoberman’s reputation. It hadn’t taken him long to see the truth. The man was a dangerous bigot.
“How long?”
Hoberman frowned. “What?”
“How long have you been part of AML?”
“What has that to do with anything? You know my views, I’ve spoken of them often enough, and AML is an open book.”
David snorted. “Hardly that. Promoting peaceful protest in the media isn’t the same as practicing it. AML’s public and private faces are diametrically opposed. Your ideals aren’t consistent with what your members actually do in the dark of night, and you know it.”
“What of it? It’s not my place to police the league. That’s not my function. Listen, we’re not friends and we’re not going to be friends, but we don’t have to be to work together. I can help you get what you want. That’s what you need to concentrate on.”
“And what will it cost me?”
“Nothing onerous.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
He no longer had anything in common with Hoberman. He doubted they could agree on anything. He certainly didn’t agree with AML’s ideals and neither did he agree with Hoberman’s view regarding non-humans—a diverse group that now included him.
“What are you, George?”
“You already know who I am.”
David waved that away impatiently. “Not who, what. I know you’re a member of AML, but what are you to them? You’re nobody’s toady, so that makes you, hmmm… political spokesman?” In a burst of clarity, he knew. “Running for election are you, Mayor Hoberman?”
Hoberman’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you—what I am is someone trying to help you.”
“What you are is someone trying to help himself! You want to use me, and we both know it. As it happens, I might be willing to let you, so spit it out.”
“Very well. My campaign manager tells me I’m going to need what he calls the sympathy vote.”
“And I’m to supply this sympathy? I can see the headlines now: Shifter attack victim joins AML in ridding the streets of monsters. Am I right?”
“Yes, that’s really very good. I’ll have to remember that line. Maybe Max can use it.”
“Max?”
“Max Farland,” Hoberman said smugly.
“The Max Farland?”
“Yes.”
David whistled soundlessly. Maximilian Farland was the most sought after media consultant this side of the Atlantic. “If you have him, you don’t need me.”
“He says different.”
He shook his head. “You and me just won’t work. I didn’t like you before my mishap, and now,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want what happened to me to happen, but nothing can change it now. I have to live with myself as I am. I wouldn’t have helped AML as a human—I’m certainly not going to help as what I am now.”
Hoberman glanced at Thomas and David tensed. He slid his hand down into his jacket pocket, but all the man did was hand Hoberman an envelope. He passed it across.
“What’s this?”
“Open it,” Hoberman said.
David did and frowned at the single sheet of paper inside. It was a letter from Hoberman to the governor. “You bastard!” He snarled and leapt to his feet. “You really are a piece of shit aren’t you?”
“Calm down, David,” Hoberman said edging away toward his goons.
Both men had weapons drawn. He wasn’t surprised to see police issue stunners in their hands. AML had more than enough resources to arm its people with the best. They probably even had the correct permits. He didn’t doubt they were set to kill. He threw the letter in Hoberman’s face.
“Get out.”
“That letter hasn’t been sent yet, but it will be the moment I leave without your agreement.”
“I said get out.”
“You don’t really want that—”
David’s hand dived into his pocket and out again with the gun cocked. “Oh, I don’t?” He aimed directly between Hoberman’s eyes. David advanced in step as the frightened man backed toward the door.
“Sir?” Benjamin said. Both bodyguards had their weapons out and levelled. “Do we fire?”
“No!”
David kept his eyes firmly on Hoberman. “Tell them to drop their guns, George.”
“They won’t do that.”
“Tell them!”
“They won’t do it! For goddess’ sake, you’re a shifter! They won’t disarm for me or anyone! We’ll leave. Benjamin, Thomas, meet me at the car.”
“We can take him down, sir.”
“I have him, dead on. No way he’s walking,” Thomas said with a feral grin.
“You were assigned to me. Follow my orders and meet me at the car!”
The one named Benjamin made a patting gesture in the air as if to calm David, and raised his gun until he was aiming at the ceiling. The strange thing, David thought, was that he was already calm. Here he was threatening to shoot a man, yet he felt completely calm and hyper alert.
Benjamin backed through the door first followed by Thomas. Hoberman edged into the hall and out the front door.
“You’re making a mistake, David.”
He kept his gun aimed but he stayed inside. He didn’t want to be seen. “Maybe, but it’s mine to make.”
“Alex Brauer won’t stand by you. He can’t, not if he wants to remain at Mercy.”
“Let me tell you something about Alex Brauer; he’s a better man and a better doctor than you’ll ever be. If you do anything to hurt him or his work, I swear I’ll come for you.” Whatever Hoberman saw in his eyes had the man backing hard and running for the car.
He slammed his door and sighed. “Damn the man.” He carefully released the hammer on his gun and dropped it back into his pocket. “That didn’t go well.”
We don’t like him.
David snorted. “Nothing to like there and that’s certain.”
Back in the lounge, he found himself unable to sit still. Hoberman’s letter had unsettled him and it had created another dimension to his fear; fear of his new nature, fear of what it meant, fear of Georgie, and now the fear that his career in medicine was indeed over just as Jan had guessed would happen. Hoberman’s letter hadn’t pulled any punches. If he sent it to the Governor as he had threatened to do, and David didn’t doubt that he would, the Governor would act. He wouldn’t have a choice. No politician could afford to risk the fallout that would rain on him when AML’s Doctor Shifter story went public.
“Sedona’s tits!” he snarled not even wincing at the blasphemy.
He hadn’t hidden his new status as a shifter, but Hoberman’s letter made it seem that he had done just that and was doing so for some nefarious purpose. He had no idea what that purpose might be, and Hoberman hadn’t bothered to make one up, but the media wouldn’t care about that. When the story came out, all hell would break loose and he wasn’t the only one liable to get hurt. There was Alex and Jan to consider.
“Damn,” he said realising what he had to do. He felt like howling, it hurt that much, but he wouldn’t let Hoberman and AML win. There was only one way to prevent it, and that was to resign his position at Mercy.
He crossed the room to his link trying to suppress the grief his decision caused him. He was choked up and very near tears when Alex answered.
“Brauer,” Alex said sounding harried.
“Alex, its David.”
“David! How’s the diet working out?”
“Fine—a little too much meat if you ask me, but fine. My weight has stopped dropping.”
“That’s good. Anaemia among new shifters is darn common, David. They don’t realise how important meat can be to their iron intake, not to mention the increase in selenium. Meat is best for that, and then there’s your new nature to consider. You’ll find yourself becoming more and more reluctant to eat vegetables, but you should make yourself eat at least some. Fruit as well. Apples are good, and most shifters I know seem to like them; not oranges for some reason. I know it’s not a very satisfying explanation, but you need to eat larger portions and more regularly.”
“I know, and I am. Listen Alex, Hoberman stopped by a while ago.”
“Oh?” Alex said in a deceptively mild voice. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to recruit me for AML.”
Silence.
“Alex? Are you still there?”
“I’m here. He came right out and said that’s what he wanted?”
“Well, he didn’t say he wanted to recruit me for AML, you’re right, but they do want to use me.”
Alex sighed tiredly. “That sounds more like them.”
“True. He wanted my support in the coming election and threatened me with dismissal from Mercy if I didn’t give it.”
“An empty threat,” Alex said angrily.
“Not so empty. He wrote to the Governor, even showed me the letter he plans to send. You’ll probably hear from him soon.”
“I see.”
“I’m going to resign, Alex. I would appreciate it if you could arrange the details for me. I don’t think I want to come in and see the others. I want you to say that I resigned immediately we knew I was infected. That might embarrass Hoberman and his friends. We can hope.”
A heavy sigh came down the line. “If I thought we could win by fighting this, I would not hesitate. You know that don’t you?”
“I know it. We would lose the moment the news broke.”
Another sigh. “What do you plan to do now?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I have a little money saved, and I can always cash in my investments. I don’t think I should worry about my retirement any more, you know? I guess I’ll be okay for a while. I can sell my car, and rent an apartment.”
“I meant about Hoberman. He won’t leave it; you have to know that. Even if he wanted to, his AML masters won’t let him.”
David shivered at the certainty in Alex’s voice. “There are two of them in a car outside. You don’t think they’ll come after me do you?”
“Those two? Probably not, someone might have noticed them watching your house, but they will send someone eventually, David. You watch the news. You know what goes on.”
He quickly crossed the room and peered outside. The car was still there, nothing had changed. “You’re right. I need to drop out of sight for a while.”
“You could use my spare room.”
“Thanks, but that will be one of the first places they’ll look.”
“Jan then?”
He shivered at the thought of putting his friend in the line of fire. “The same goes for her. She’s going to be upset when she hears about all this. She’ll want to help, but I can’t allow it. I’m not involving either of you. It’s too dangerous.”
“Who then?”
“I wish I knew. My sister lives in Baltimore, but I don’t intend leaving the city. I want… I need to find Georgie, and anyway, Hoberman knows about her. I’ll think of something, don’t worry.”
“Be careful, just be careful. Will you?”
“I’ll be careful,” he said, but really, how careful could he be when he planned on confronting a shifter and possibly killing her?
“Bye.”
“Goodbye Alex.”
6
On the Run
They came for him in a shower of breaking glass.
Four black clad and masked figures charged into David’s bedroom and fired their weapons. The bed was ripped and chewed as thousands of needle-like projectiles hissed across the room to tear into the motionless form in the bed.
“Check him,” one of them said when silence again fell.
“You check him!” another said, the voice was that of a woman.
The masked face turned slowly and his gun followed. “Check. Him.”
“Okay! No need to get nasty about it.” She edged carefully forward and yanked the covers off the bed to reveal more shredded pillows. “Oh crap,” she hissed and turned a full circle with her weapon ready.
“Where is he?” a third man sai
d pushing his back into the corner and looking fearfully around the room. He flicked his flashlight at the door and kept it there. “Downstairs?”
“How the bloody hell should I know, Brad?”
“No names!” the leader hissed sharply. He eyed the shredded pillows. “He could be waiting down there, and ready for us. Two, take Three and check out the bathroom across the hall. Four, you stick with me. Clear?”
The woman nodded and moved to shadow her leader.
David was running, his paws flew over the frozen snow barely touching down before lifting again. He dove through the undergrowth, his fur easily protecting him from the clawing branches.
Manthings come, brother.
The mountains called him home. He smelled a storm on the wind, saw it in the clouds, heard it in the quiet scurrying of life surrounding him. It was close now. He might not reach the den in time. The others would be there by now; he had to hurry to them. The pack needed him.
Manthings come, brother. We must leave this place.
The trees sped by in a blur. His breath smoked white as he panted into the wind of his passage. He grinned into the wind and his tongue lolled out. He was close to his limit, but he would not slow. Being caught in the white this far from his den would be death. He turned at almost full stretch, his tail held out behind him for balance, his body bending almost double in an effort to avoid the ravine. He made it by the narrowest of margins. He was almost there, almost—
“Home,” he gasped and spilled his coffee. “Shit…” he hissed mopping the stain on his pants.
He must have fallen asleep in the chair. He remembered packing an overnight bag and sitting down to watch his watchers. He had planned to slip away after dark leaving a little present in his bed upstairs.
Manthings come, we must leave!
“What?” He froze at the sound of someone upstairs. He leapt to his feet and looked toward the window. “They’re here?”
We must go!
He was across the room and holding his bag without conscious thought. He was already reaching for the door handle when he realised what had happened and he shivered in fright. He hadn’t been in control, someone else—something else had been. He fought the urge to open the door knowing if he did so he was dead. They were watching.