Sins of Long Ago

by Naomi Bellina

  Which he wasn’t. Not yet. Not with all this shit going down with predators after his pack. No way would he put Gen in danger, no matter how much his body and soul longed for the woman. Get this business with Ethan Kern out of the way; then he’d determine what to do next.

  Vincent rolled his neck, wincing as it snapped and popped. His body had just started making those sounds in the last year or so. Though weres lived longer than humans and were ten times as sturdy, they weren’t indestructible. Time took its toll on their bodies. He wasn’t getting any younger either.

  Six o’clock. Getting dark. Enough surveillance for the day. He’d take another drive around the roads in The Woods, and then call it a night and attempt to find a room. As he put his fingers on the key to start the ignition, a tingle coursed through his body, like a woman’s fingernail trailing up his spine. He dropped his hand to his pistol and turned around, fully expecting to see a person sitting in the seat behind him.

  No one. A check in the rearview mirrors revealed only the scenery he’d viewed all day. He rolled down the window and listened. Silence, broken only by the sound of a faraway dog barking. Opening the door slowly, he stepped out of the Jeep and crept to the back. Few people could move absolutely soundlessly in the woods. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and with his acute hearing, if someone were to sneak up on him, he’d know it. Nothing. After a few moments he got back in the truck and started it up.

  Someone—or something—lurked nearby. Years in the security business had given him a fine sixth sense, and he paid attention to it. His extra-sharp werewolf senses seldom failed him either. Could someone in the house be looking out at him? It hadn’t felt like being observed from the front, more like a person or persons coming from behind. Almost as though they looked out of his eyes. He sat for ten minutes more, but the feeling did not repeat.

  Keeping a close watch all around, Vincent headed out.

  * * * *

  Thursday.

  Road trip! What a great way to spend Thanksgiving. Gen turned up the heat and opened her window. She hadn’t hopped in a car and sped down the highway for a long time. The rental car ran smoothly, and she drove it like she stole it. Fast and hard. Even though the circumstances for this trip were not ideal, it was fun to get out of her normal routine and do something wild. She pushed the button on the radio and cranked it up, letting the cool wind take her hair and blow it into a huge mess. A quick look in the rearview mirror caught her by surprise and she laughed.

  Sally’s magic had done the trick. Her features looked slightly different, just enough to make her unrecognizable. Sally had explained it was best to do only a little alteration, easier on the body. If severe modifications were made, the recipient tended to feel sluggish and ill after they reverted back.

  Glamour magic. How cool was that? Another witchy person living in Nocturne. Gen had to learn more. And who knew how many other interesting folks lived right in her own town? A town I could be leaving soon. Determined not to think about the job offer, Gen practiced what she’d say to Vincent, after she’d been invited inside.

  “Pizza’s good and hot. Like me.” Stupid. “After you eat this, you can eat…” Nope. “So, you got a girlfriend back at your house?” Oh, hell no. What she’d do, wait to see how he looked. Relaxed, uptight, covered in blood from hunting…Shit. What if savage, werewolf rampaging was why he came to this area? She’d thought of hunting with a gun, but maybe he wanted to run around the woods and kill animals. Well, she had to accept him as he was. If that’s how he liked to spend his holidays, she’d have to deal with it. No more thinking. Gen cranked up the radio, letting the music take her mind away.

  Once in town, she located Celestial Subs and Pizza easily with the GPS, one more device she’d love to have but couldn’t afford. The small shop occupied a strip mall, and she hurried inside, ready for lunch herself.

  “Have you seen a guy, nice-looking, jeans, long-sleeved shirt; he came in yesterday and got a sub sandwich?”

  The girl behind the counter frowned. “That’s like, most of the guys that come in here.”

  Gen put her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers. “I’m looking for my husband. I want to surprise him. It’s a little game we play every year. He picks out a romantic spot, then I have to find him in a certain amount of time, with clues. He’s made it really tricky this year. I know he’s around here someplace. Can you help me out?”

  The girl smiled. “Sure. Sounds like fun. You got a picture of him, or anything?”

  Uh-oh. What kind of lousy wife didn’t carry a photo of her husband? Gen pondered a moment, then snapped her fingers. His website. Granted, he’d spiffed up a little for the professional photo, but it still looked like him. She pulled it up on her phone.

  “Oh yeah, I remember him. He came in again today. He’s got a great ass. I mean…” the girl covered her mouth.

  “It’s okay; he does have a great ass, I know. Do you remember anything else about him? Did he say anything about a hunting lodge?”

  “He talked on the phone, said something about The Woods. It’s not really a hunting lodge, more like a resort, but there’s trees and stuff around. You know, woods. I guess guys go looking for squirrels and rabbits. I hear gunshots sometimes from the area. But you’re not really supposed to hunt.”

  “Any idea where he might be in there?”

  “No, but it’s not a real big place. There’s only eight big old cabins. You could drive around it, probably see his car pretty easy. What do you get if you find him in time?”

  Make-up sex. “He has to cook for me for a week. If I lose, I have to detail his Jeep. Hey, thanks for the info. Let me get a large pepperoni to go, please.”

  Munching on a slice of pizza and still in love with the GPS, Genevieve found The Woods easily and wandered around the property. The Celestial girl was right; not a huge property, and she could see each driveway if she drove around. They were tucked away, so if a person wanted to hide a vehicle here, he could. Hoping Vincent didn’t want to, she scanned three of the cabins before she found his Jeep. What looked like his Jeep. Gen idled the car for a minute at the end of the driveway, gathering her nerve.

  She’d head up to the door, ring the bell, and check him out while she delivered the pizza. He would have no idea it was her. If Vincent didn’t answer, if she’d come to the wrong place, the worst that would happen would be the occupants would tell her to leave. She’d have a pizza to eat and still have to locate her fake husband.

  Her scalp prickled like tiny spiders crawled along it. Some instinct warned her not to pull right up to the front door. She’d leave her car down the road, approach the house from the back, quietly, and if nothing seemed amiss, just knock on the front door. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she told herself the butterflies in her stomach were only from nerves. Part of her knew better. Something odd lurked in the air here, and if she were smart, she would leave immediately.

  Stubbornness won over smart today. She’d come this far and had no intention of turning back.

  * * * *

  Thanksgiving morning. Vincent rolled out of the hotel bed. Mattress kind of lumpy but not too bad. He’d been tired enough to sleep soundly. How many holidays had he spent on the road? Too many to count. Not like it was any big deal. Some stores closed, lots of restaurants, but he could always find a place to get gas, food, whatever he needed. He tried to call his family and talk for a few minutes at least on the major holidays and today he decided to make the call early, after his run and breakfast. No telling what would happen the rest of the day.

  An hour later he sat in his Jeep, soaking up the sunshine and eating a banana and bagel he’d grabbed from the hotel’s breakfast bar. “Hey, Mom, how’s it going?” The basic question was all he had to input; she’d go on for twenty minutes filling him in all the minutia of the day. He listened with half his attention, the other portion on his laptop, catching up on business.

  “Did you hear me? Isn’t that great news?”

  Shit, his min
d had wandered too far. “You cut out for a second. Tell me again, what’s great news?”

  “I said, your sister is pregnant. Totally unexpected. She couldn’t be happier and her kids, you should see them. They think it’s the best thing in the world. When are you coming to visit us?”

  A sudden image flashed into his mind. His family, sitting around a table, laughing. They’d just finished the meal, and his dad had told one of his corny jokes. He was young enough to find it funny, and his sister was trying to act all cool and not laugh, but having a hard time keeping a straight face. They were all going out to see a movie, he remembered. Some science fiction film. Before his life became stranger than sci-fi.

  An ache tugged at his heart and he cleared his throat. “I’ll try to find some time in the next couple of months to get out there. Listen, I’ve got to go now. Tell everybody hi.”

  Time to get in, get this job rolling. Mathew hadn’t called back, so on to plan B. Which would likely get him in trouble with the Regents, but fuck it. He would not sit around and wait while someone attacked his people and a man lay prisoner. He’d deal with the consequences later. Now, while he had the opportunity, he had to find out what was going on in that house.

  At noon, he stopped at the deli in town, bought a meal, and then headed to The Woods. Dressed in jeans, a plain black T-shirt shirt, and a baseball cap, he looked as nondescript as he could be. Years ago, he’d worked as a process server and also done undercover work for a private firm. He’d learned a lot from those days. Blend in, look sincere, get into the character you’re imitating. People believed what you projected. A to Z Security stayed mostly on the right side of the law, but Vincent had worked in other capacities in his past and still found use for those skills occasionally.

  A quick check through his binoculars showed the same security guard on duty today. In answer to his knock the guard opened the door to the house wide. Sloppy. The man should have used the security chain or at least required Vincent to identify himself.

  “Here’s the sandwich you ordered.” He shoved the bag at the guy.

  “I didn’t order no sandwich,” the guard said. The nametag on his shirt read Steve, and he worked for Standard Security.

  Vincent took a piece of paper from his pocket and studied it. “Says right here you did.” He pulled the sandwich container from the bag and cracked it open, letting the scent of the meatball sub waft out.

  “Well, I didn’t, and I don’t have any money to pay for it.” Steve licked his lips as the aroma reached him.

  “Man, this is my last stop. I don’t want to have to go back to the deli. I’m already late to my girlfriend’s house. Tell you what, give me three bucks, I’ll throw in the rest. You keep the sandwich.

  Steve pondered for just a moment. “Okay, come in. I’ll be right back.”

  Vincent rolled his eyes. Fail, fail, fail. What the hell were they teaching security guards these days? Steve gave him the money, took the sandwich, and Vincent settled into his vehicle to wait. In twenty minutes he went back to the front door of the house and knocked. No answer.

  A peek through the curtains of the kitchen showed exactly what he wanted to see. Steve, sprawled across the kitchen table. The sleeping powder worked fast. Vincent stepped to the back of the house, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and picked the lock, thankful for the isolation. The door opened smoothly, and Vincent stepped inside. No security cameras in place as far as he could see. Kern must be fairly confident he was operating undetected.

  Vincent checked the guard’s pulse, and once he determined the man was fine, began a search of the house. There were three bedrooms. A small suitcase sat on the floor of the master. The bathroom had a few toiletries and a towel hanging in the shower. Either Kern or the security guards were sleeping over, Vincent surmised. The locked room Vincent picked open easily. A desk with a computer and printer. Vincent turned it on to boot up. Another door, to the basement most likely, had a heavy-duty padlock. Nothing he couldn’t handle in under two minutes.

  Turning the basement doorknob slowly, he listened. Only the sound of the furnace kicking on. Drawing his gun, he pushed the door all the way open. Vincent paused, let his senses adjust, then took a few steps down. A dim light shone from a corner and the muted sound of a television turned low came from the direction of the light but otherwise, nothing. He took a deep sniff. The same odor he’d scented from outside. A human, not a very clean one. He turned the corner of the staircase and stopped.

  On a bed in the center of the room, a man lay, sprawled out. A bedside table and lamp, a television, and some kind of gaming equipment filled the area. Bags of food were strewn about and a glass of water sat on the table. The room was mostly unfinished. A large area rug under the bed covered the concrete floor. Dim light came from the small window high on the wall. Vincent crept closer. A shackle wrapped around the man’s ankle, attached to a heavy chain. It appeared the captive could move around the area and into another room off to the side that looked like a bathroom. Vincent moved even closer.

  The figured stirred slightly and turned his head, and now Vincent saw his features more clearly. Not fully human after all. Fur covered his face, and his arms and legs were elongated, with pointed nails on his fingers and toes. He stirred again, and Vincent stepped back into the shadows then climbed the staircase.

  Back to the bedroom office. The computer had booted up, and Vincent sat down and got to work hacking in, using his Swiss friend’s program. Not much on the hard drive. He clicked on a folder named “Villano.” Morgan told him her ex-husband and Colin Sysco both worked for that company. Under “Villano,” he tried another folder called “Omega Experiment,” then clicked on a subfolder called “Photos.” This was it. Pictures popped up, the man in the basement, in various stages of transformation. The most recent picture looked similar to a fully changed werewolf. Another subfolder titled “Sysco” appeared to be pages and pages of scientific notes and drawings, none of which made any sense to Vincent.

  A knot formed in his stomach. The chained man, not a natural werewolf. Ethan Kern and associates must have found a way to force a wolf transformation in a human. Shit. Bad news. Men tampering with genetics was just wrong, and when the Regents found out Villano had created their very own brand of shifter, all hell would break loose.

  Pulling a flash drive from his pocket he started copying the folder. Next, he’d free the guy in the basement. Recon only! Gather information and turn it over to Mathew. Yeah, and wait who knew how long for him to take action while this dude suffered.

  As he headed down the stairs again, the house phone rang. Shit. Probably Kern, checking in with his guard. When he didn’t get an answer, he would more than likely come out or send someone else. Time for plan C.

  Vincent opened the refrigerator, but found no alcohol inside. Score one point to Steve for professionalism. He trotted to his truck and grabbed a can of beer. He poured a little on the guard’s shirt and most of the contents down the drain, and then set the empty can next to Steve’s hand. Gathering the remainder of the deli sandwich, he wrapped it back up, pulled the container from the trash and shoved it into the bag. He then cracked open the front door a bit to catch the crunching of the gravel when Kern came down the driveway. In human form, his senses were good but not as sharp as when he turned wolf.

  Returning to the office, Vincent checked the progress of the file transfer. Slow, too slow. The photos and drawings were large. He had to have these files. Continue the download or stop it? Could he keep the bastard out of this room? He could be very nearby. Knowing he might be too late to head off Kern if he went back down to the basement, Vincent refastened the padlock and took another quick search of the office and the house. Nothing else of interest. Locking the office and picking up the bag with the food, he peeled off the gloves and sat on the front step to wait.

  Just in time. Two minutes after he’d vacated the house, a car pulled up. The driver barely stopped before opening his door and barreling out.

  �
�What are you doing here?” the man yelled, reaching under his coat and pulling out a gun.

  Vincent dropped the bag and raised his hands.

  “Hey, hey, take it easy. I’m just delivering this order.”

  The man approached Vincent and narrowed his eyes.

  “Someone called to have a sandwich delivered here. I been ringing the bell but no one’s answering. I didn’t do anything.”

  Vincent kept the wide-eyed look of fear on his face while he studied Kern. Tall and thin, his mouth set in a hard line, cold eyes flashing anger. If it came to it, Vincent could take him down, gun or no gun.

  “Look, see?” Vincent pushed the buzzer again, then banged on the door. “I even tried to open it.” He jiggled the handle.

  Kern shoved the weapon back into his shoulder holster. “Get out of the way.” He pushed Vincent to one side and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.

  Vincent pulled his hat down lower, picked up the bag, and followed the man inside. Kern stood with his hands on his hips, looking at Steve.

  “I think he’s passed out,” Vincent said. “So, do you still want this?” He held out the bag.

  “Take it and get out of here,” Kern snarled.

  Vincent instead took a step closer to Steve. “He’s one of those Standard Security guards, isn’t he? My boss says they’re no good. I’m with Orion. Been with them a whole year now. You should have called us. You want their number?”

  Kern turned and studied Vincent. One of his best traits was the ability to look innocent and to adapt to any situation and play whatever part was needed. If he did his job right, this dude would play right along.

  Vincent snapped his fingers. “Oh wait, it’s Thanksgiving. I don’t know if anyone could get out here today. They’ll answer the phones and all, but most guys are out of town if they’re not already on a job. Hey, I don’t have anything to do tonight. My family is all out West and I can’t afford to fly out there. You know how much a ticket to Wyoming costs?”