by Sarah Noffke
“Run, Veronica,” Orion said and stepped forward. “I’ll go,” he said to the animal, his insides feeling like they might crack into pieces from the fear. It had never been so overwhelming, stealing his breath to the point that he was gasping for breath. He went to take another step and felt fingers grip his wrist, tugging him back.
“No, Orion. Let’s run,” Veronica said.
He turned to look at her, relieved she wanted to help him. Torn on what to do, he sucked in a breath. Should he risk escaping or let the beast take him? The quick look at her told him instantly and he turned at once, pushing her in front of him. “Let’s go!” he yelled, racing in the opposite direction behind Veronica.
“We’ve got to get in there,” Zephyr said. “That werewolf is going to take Orion.”
“Maybe we can go in through the back,” Rio said.
“No, we need to take it out from behind,” Zephyr said, striding forward, watching the werewolf enter the office and stand in the doorway. Rio was at his side when a sharp slap to the back of his head made him turn around.
“You freaking idiot. You two can’t take down that abomination,” Rox said.
Zephyr looked at her with astonished offense. “We are werewolves, and there’s two of us and one of it.”
“And it’s in werewolf form,” Rox said, her eyes on the big picture window that showed the lobby where Orion was blocking a woman with his body. “You two aren’t changed, which means no claws or fangs, and I’m going to guess it’s a whole lot faster than you.”
“We can’t just leave Orion to fend for himself,” Zephyr said. Rox was right though. That werewolf would destroy Rio and him in no time. “Okay, new plan. We will distract him and you, Rox, go in and attack him from behind. His fangs and claws have no effect on you.”
She nodded. “Good plan. Once I’ve got him down then you two step in and help,” she said. Rox darted for the entrance of the psychiatrist’s office just as Orion turned, running down a hallway. Zephyr shot forward, employing his X-ray vision as he did so he didn’t miss anything. The werewolf kneeled down low and then sprung into the air like on a trampoline. He flew several yards, slamming down cleanly on Orion’s back. Instantly its giant fangs sliced into his neck, and then it stood up, carrying Orion with its teeth, its clawed hands around his body but only for ease since it seemed to have a sturdy grasp of Orion like a wolf does a rabbit. The werewolf shook his head, shaking Orion as it did, filling the air with the sound of cracking. Orion’s body instantly fell slack as his neck broke from the assault.
Zephyr discarded the plan, sprinting for the door behind Rox, Rio at his heels. As it often happens in battle, plans are altered in the moment, instinct leading the way. Rox had her knife out and charged for the beast. She might have stood a chance of getting in a few hits on it. Together they may take it out.
The animal turned at the sound of their approach, its black soulless eyes glowing back at them. Then it spun in the opposite direction, racing for the exit at the back, Orion in tow. The woman slid up against the wall, nearly being knocked over by the werewolf as it passed. And then it was gone and only a puddle of Orion’s blood on the floor remained.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“After the change, the men describe the wolf as being confused and not having a memory of the time when not in werewolf state. They appear to be able to communicate with the men.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
Loneliness was a ghost that followed Hugo Stetson, haunting his waking moments. When he slept he felt it like a poltergeist, threatening to end him. He always traveled in his dreams to wherever he thought about most. He always arrived exactly in the place he wanted to be and that almost made it worse. It was worse to look at his friends’ faces and talk to them only to have them ignore him. It was worse to look at Markie’s face and tell him that he loved him only to watch the guy look off to the sunset. It felt so real, like in that moment the guy Hugo loved was missing him, knowing he was lost and unable to return. But that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be seeing Markie as he was but rather as he hoped he’d be in that moment, longing for Hugo.
The animals always provided some comfort, their voices in Hugo’s head reminding him he wasn’t alone. But they weren’t enough. They couldn’t hold him, like Markie did. More importantly he couldn’t relate to them. He told his dog, Thomas, about the werewolf, about the change, confided his greatest miseries to the animal, but to his disappointment the dog didn’t seem to find much problem with Hugo’s situation.
So you turn into me every week. What’s the big deal? Thomas had said in Hugo’s mind. The sweet dog almost looked offended, like Hugo was complaining over nothing. And even as he tried to explain that it wasn’t normal and that he was a stranger canine capable of really hurting others, the dog still didn’t think it was a horrible fate.
Just relax and enjoy the life you’ve been given, the dog had said to Hugo. Just stop obsessing. I see how you fret all day. You’d be better off lounging than pacing. Or farming rather than reinforcing the doors. I don’t like being away from you when the change you talk about happens.
Thomas always spoke like this. He was Hugo’s best friend and yet understood none of his actual troubles. If men actually knew that their supposed best friends thought their real troubles were nothing, would they still be so close? For Hugo, Thomas was the best companion he had, even lacking empathy, so he was almost satisfied with the animal’s attention. Except at night, the sound of Markie’s voice in his head woke him up. He could hear his lover, reach out and almost touch him, but he was a world away. And he couldn’t go and find Markie because of the potential of hurting him. Markie would believe him. He’d know Hugo wasn’t lying. He’d make him stay with him. Then Hugo would change and maim the man he loved. There was no option for Hugo but to remain alone.
On those nights faceted with memories of Markie, Hugo always awoke with a brutal force. One that made him think he’d crawl outside himself if he didn’t get away, away from Thomas and his passive insensitivities. Away from the bed that sought to entomb him in a prison of loneliness.
Hugo ran out of his cabin, not shutting the door behind him, not caring if the dog ran after him. On a night like this there was no danger, except for Hugo who thought he might go crazy from the fear that forever he’d live like this. Live in a world of one, with only the animals who didn’t understand and failed to comfort him. Still in his thermal socks, he ran until he was at the top of the hill, the one with a single tree, and a view of the surrounding pastures. There, in man form, he let out a sound that was the most natural one for him, and also felt primitive and strange at the same time.
To the night, Hugo sang a song of his loneliness one howl at a time. Each one more piercing than the last. The night seemed to understand his plight. The surrounding distance knew of Hugo’s isolation. The open sky reverberated his calls for companionship with echoes of silence. And it only made Hugo feel marginally better to receive this consolation but it was enough, enough to bring him back to the cabin, where he’d continue his sentence for yet another day.
Chapter Thirty
“The men have reported experiencing an impulse toward gratifying behaviors. It is believed that in some of the men, this impulse is uncontrollable, at least at times.”
- Lucidite Institute, Werewolf Project File
Pressing his long fingers into his closed eyes, Mika breathed in deep, counting back from ten. When he opened his eyes the world was full of dark spots. He didn’t bring his eyes over to Grant until his vision returned. “You were supposed to bring Orion in alive,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.
“I realize that, sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him. The werewolf just got excited and took control. Honestly, I didn’t know it was going to break his neck,” Grant said, his usual face full of color, a flush spreading its way down his neck.
“You picked him up with your mouth,” Mika said, trying to control the rage wanting to race ou
t of him. “What did you think would come out of that?”
“It happened so fast. And once I got my teeth in him then I was gone and the wolf took over,” he said.
“Damn it, this is unacceptable!” Mika roared so loudly that the birds in the lab cage scattered, most having trouble with it due to whatever mutation had been done to them. “You have to be able to control the wolf.”
“I know. I can do it. Now that I’ve had experience with it, I’ll do better next time,” Grant said.
Mika threw a finger in the opposite direction, where Orion’s broken body lay on an examine table. “You returned a werewolf to me, but he’s dead. Do you know how much went into creating him and you just snapped his neck because you got excited?”
“I understand, sir,” Grant said, his hands straight by his side.
Mika covered his brow with his hand. Now he’d have to tell the investors that they’d permanently lost a werewolf. Granted that Orion was created for reconnaissance missions due to his innate nature but still, Project Canis Lupus was not at all going to plan. He’d stalled giving the investors for any information. Soon he’d have to sell a share of Parantaa just to buy them out of the project. He’d created the werewolves for mostly his own amusement anyway, but to have a team of werewolves with specific abilities and roles was the ultimate goal. They could be employed to do anything separately or as a pack.
“I’m going to assign you a new case but you better, and I mean it, you better not mess it up,” Mika said.
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” Grant said.
“Some farmers in a small town in Oklahoma have reported hearing a wolf even though they were hunted to extinction in that area fifty years ago. The town is close to where Hugo Stetson lived. Furthermore, when I sent Morgan out there to spy he found a deer carcass that had been mauled. The terrain in this area is considerably dense and overgrown but I’ve taken aerial footage and there’s a small cabin on the edge of Hugo’s family’s property,” Mika said.
“My team, we missed this when investigating,” Grant said, his face suddenly pale.
“Indeed, you did. Your list of incompetence keeps growing. But you can make up for it now if you go out there and capture him. Hugo is considered a strong man but in werewolf form you should be able to overpower him. Knock him out and bring him in. Got it?” Mika said.
“Yes sir. You can count on me,” Grant said, saluting.
Chapter Thirty-One
“The men are not able to fully communicate and therefore supply necessary answers for the experiment or upcoming phases. It’s been decided their sedatives will be cut back.”
- Olento Research, Canis Lupus Project File
He didn’t look like himself, Adelaide thought as she watched Connor sleep in his bed in the infirmary. However, that was an absurd thought. How did she suppose she knew what Connor looked like? She hardly knew him. She’d seen him when he was malnourished and also in werewolf form. Now he was fresh from a bloody coma. She knew the faces of Connor but that didn’t mean she really knew him.
Connor’s eyes fluttered a bit before slowly opening, a groan falling out of his cracked lips. Blinking several times, his eyes seemed to try to adjust before finding her, perched on the bed beside his in the infirmary, the werewolf case in her lap. She wasn’t sure why she’d had the horrible idea to work here so she could insult him upon first waking up. It had sounded like a devilish plan in her head but now it seemed sentimental, like she’d been waiting for him to rouse, longing for it.
“Happy fucking birthday, asshole,” she said.
He cracked a small smile but quickly let it drop. “Oh, you remembered. Did you get me anything?” he said.
“Your birthdate is in your file, which I have memorized for every one of the dumb mutts,” she said. “And yes, for your birthday, I got you twelve sessions with the Lucidite’s therapist and a lifelong supply of my disappointment and disdain.”
“Sounds great. I hope you gift-wrapped it, or it doesn’t feel as personal of a gift,” Connor said.
“I bet you wished you’d never been born,” she said, closing the file in her lap. Honestly, Adelaide hadn’t really been studying it, mostly just watching Connor breathe, watching his face twitch from dreams, or probably nightmares were more likely.
“Get out of my head,” he said, running his fingers through his hair which was matted to his head from sleep. “I mostly wish now that I didn’t wake up.”
Adelaide knew what he meant and strangely she knew how he felt. Dumb regret prickled her insides at the thought of Connor not waking from his coma. That day when he stayed locked away in his head still plagued her. She supposed it was because he was important to the case. Just that morning she’d read in Ren’s book a strange passage that had eerie timing, which was typical of her father’s book. She had read:
The loner is a powerful person because they rely on little. They are governed by a higher power. A more dividing force than most. And although not adequate for leadership due to their preference to do it alone, they are ideal for creating a lasting change. Loners take the risks that leaders can never afford.
“Well, now you’re a resident of the Lucidite’s mental ward, so welcome to the waking world,” Adelaide said.
“Thanks,” Connor said, throwing the covers off his lap and pulling his legs to the side of the bed.
“Why did you do it? Why did you run away and relapse?” Adelaide said, watching Connor pin his hands beside him.
“Because I wanted to kill the wolf,” he said.
“Even if it killed you?” she said
“I actually just found that as an added perk,” he said with a morbid laugh.
The space was silent for a moment and then Connor cleared his throat. “You ever wanted to run away from your problems? I know it’s impossible, but still, have you ever had that urge?” he said and then after another long stint of silence he shook his head. “Of course not. Never mind. You’re a badass agent for the Lucidites and the daughter of Ren Lewis. I bet all your answers are in that book,” he said, pointing to the leather-bound book beside Adelaide.
Connor was the only one on the werewolf case who knew Ren was Adelaide’s father and the only person alive who knew the book she carried was his, and full of his secrets and specialized knowledge.
“Strangely, this book does probably have all the answers in it, however finding them and using them isn’t straightforward,” she said, picking up the book and eyeing it with a bit of annoyance. “Ren employed a bit of sorcery, it appears, when creating it.” Adelaide couldn’t believe she’d just spoken so matter-of-factly about her father to someone. That hadn’t happened since before his death.
“Well, if you read anything about how to cage a beast, will you pass it on?” Connor said, and his voice sounded more natural now, not so rough from sleep. He looked more like himself now too, and Adelaide again admonished herself for that. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“So that’s the real reason behind all this, isn’t it? You’re afraid that the werewolf is going to come out again and make you do something you’ll regret,” she said.
“Adelaide, I almost killed you and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I’m a drug addict for a reason. I can’t control myself. How is there any hope that I’ll be able to stop the wolf if he wants to tear your throat out?” he said.
“The others werewolves struggle with this too. It’s not like it’s just you,” she said
“Well, the others are stronger than me. I’m a deserter. It’s what I do. I run away from my problems. Physically or chemically,” Connor said.
Yet again the room grew quiet with only the sound of the ticking clock. Adelaide knew what she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure she could. And she despised that the impulse was so strong in her. Shaking it off, she pinned her lips together, unwilling to allow her admission to spill to the surface. Finally she stood, collecting the file and book as she did.
“I expect you to stick around. We might need your
help in the werewolf case and also I can’t have you prowling the streets or getting picked up by Olento Research,” she said, all the prior warmth in her voice replaced with a professional tone.
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” Connor said, his careful eyes on her.
“Don’t be offended when I say a promise from a drug addict is pretty unreliable in my book. Or hey, do be offended. I don’t bloody care,” Adelaide said, wishing he’d look away from her, look down at the ground with shame.
“Well, I’ll just prove it to you by actually sticking around,” Connor said. “I want to help now, so let me know how I can.”
“I will, when you’re strong enough,” Adelaide said and turned to leave. But then something stopped her; something in her made her turn back to Connor. And the impulse was so strong, like a river rushing through a dam. She opened her mouth and the words fell out. “I’ve run away from my problems before. I abandoned my son and tried to escape using drugs and alcohol. So I get it.”
“You did?” Connor said, standing suddenly, walking closer to Adelaide. “Why?”
Her eyes pulled to the side, unable to look at him. “I ran away because I didn’t know how to control the monster inside of me. I was afraid of what it would make me do. I truly believed it was a curse,” she said, remembering over a year ago when her father tracked her down. He told her, “We always have tomorrow to change. To evolve. But you have to come back for that to work. You have to give yourself a second chance.”