She chewed her gum loudly, popping it between her jaws as she spun in slow circles. “So this is where you film your movies?”
“It sure is,” Marco replied as he shut her door. “It doesn’t look like much, but trust me, hang a few drapes, set up some false walls, some furniture, you can’t tell it from a real house. One soundstage is as good as any other.”
“Fuckin’ sweet.” She pranced around the front of the truck, swaying her hips in an exaggerated manner as she walked. Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor, and Paul noted the large hoop earrings dangling from the sides of her face. She glanced back to Marco and smiled, “So it’s a grand to do the porno then what’s my cut of the sales?”
“One percent,” Marco answered as he walked her closer to the office. “That may not sound like much, but when you consider that most of our movies gross over a million a month, that’s ten grand for each actor. You don’t see a lot up front, but it really pays off in the end.” He stopped and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. “And that’s counting our internet sales, our over-the-counter DVD sales, pay-per-view, satellite, cable...it all adds up.”
She snapped her gum again and smiled up at him. “There must be a ton of perverts out there.”
“Sugar, you have no idea.” He continued walking her toward the office. “We have to wait for the guys to show up with the lights and cameras. Our interior decorators are on their way and some of the other actors should be here any minute.”
She stepped into the office and saw Rufus lying on the desk. “He looks like somebody already rode him silly.” Paul raised a brow at her then shot a questioning look to Marco.
“Mr. Foster here is our producer. Mr. Foster, meet Judy. She’s going to be our next star.”
“Is that so?” Paul sat upright and looked at the skinny blonde haired girl with too much makeup. “What makes her so special?”
“I got no gag reflex,” she bragged, still popping her gum. “Want me to demonstrate?” She walked up to Paul and dropped to her knees, reaching for his crotch as she did so.
He grabbed her wrists and held them. “Thank you, no.”
She glared at him and spat her gum to the floor. “What’s your problem? I ain’t got no diseases.”
“No worries,” Marco interrupted, reaching over her shoulder and taking her hands from Paul. “Mr. Foster prefers…older women.”
“Yeah, right.” She smirked at Foster. “I bet he prefers boys. What are you?”
Paul smiled sweetly and stood, his hand slowly reaching for the young woman. “My dear, sweet, young lady.” His hand stroked the side of her face, and her eyes showed fear for just a moment. “I’m your worst nightmare.” He flashed his fangs at her just before he launched himself at her throat.
5
Mark groaned in the narrow bed, his IV swinging slightly as he moved with the pain. Images flashed through his mind that he couldn’t begin to explain as he fought to wake. He could feel hands on him, holding him down. He struggled to push the blankets off…the heat…the cold…he could feel himself dying.
His eyes fluttered open and it took a moment for him to realize where he was. He saw Tracy sitting beside him, squeezing a rag out into a bowl of water then reaching to wipe at his brow again. “Am I dead?” he croaked.
Her face tightened and she tried to smile, but it looked more like a sob. Her eyes were red and swollen, obviously from crying. “No, you’re not.” She sniffled and reached for his face with the rag again. “But you are feverish.”
“So I wasn’t attacked by a werewolf? I’m just delusional. Good.”
“No, sweetheart, you were…” she choked on the words for a moment and had to take a deep breath before continuing. “You were attacked. And now you’re fighting a fever. I think you have some kind of infection.”
“Fuck me,” Mark groaned and turned toward the wall. “I’m infected, aren’t I?”
“No.” She was emphatic and for a slight moment, he believed her. “Doctor Peters assured me that there were no bites. Just tears and cuts from claws. You aren’t infected.”
Mark’s hand shot up and caught Tracy by the wrist. “I don’t want to be one of them.” His eyes were wild, and he shook with the chills from his fever. “Don’t let me become one of them.”
“Mark, you’re going to be fine. They’re giving you antibiotics and you’re going to be just fine.” She grimaced slightly at the grip he held her with. “Please, honey, let go…”
He shook with rage for just a moment before releasing her. As he collapsed back onto his sweat-soaked pillow he stared at the ceiling. “When I first came back I thought…I thought I wanted to be like them.” He slowly turned his head and faced her. He saw what he expected. Shock. Denial. “I feared getting older. Weaker. Feeling my body break down and betray me with age.” He shook his head slightly and turned his eyes back to the ceiling. “But after seeing the true cost…being cut off from family…I knew. I couldn’t do that. Ever.”
“You’re not infected.” She wiped at his forehead again then soaked the rag once more. “You need to quit dwelling on the thought. You’re not helping yourself by thinking negative thoughts.”
“Trace…I can feel it. It’s in me.”
She stiffened and held the soaked towel in her hand. “You can’t be.”
He finally turned and stared at her. “Are you wearing the crucifix I gave you?”
Her hand went instinctively to her neck. “Why?”
“It’s silver. If I’m not infected, then it won’t do anything.” He held his hand out to her and she saw his fingers shaking. She didn’t know if they shook from weakness or from fear of the possibility that…
She placed the towel into the bowl and unclasped the chain. “Okay, but once you’ve proven that you aren’t infected, will you try to rest and get better?”
His eyes relaxed as she slipped the cross into his hand. “Yes.” He closed his hand on the silver crucifix and waited. Nothing happened. Slowly she smiled at him when she realized that he wasn’t going to burst into flame. He opened his hand, and she reached for the chain but he pulled it away. With a grunt he pushed the tape and bandages down from his chest. When he saw the first line of the stitches that crisscrossed his chest, he took one end of the crucifix and inserted it into his broken skin.
His eyes widened and he bit back a scream as a small wisp of smoke rose from the wound.
*****
Lieutenant Daniels stuck his head into the OPCOM and motioned to Colonel Mitchell. “Sir, can I have a word?”
“We’re about to start another mission, Lieutenant. Can it wait?” Mitchell signed off on the logbook and was just sitting in his chair when Daniels interrupted.
“Negative, sir. This is priority.” Mitchell turned and saw the look on the man’s face. “Jones, you have the OPCOM. Get me if any intel changes.”
“Roger that, sir.”
Mitchell stepped outside the OPCOM and shut the door, turning on the young junior officer. “This had better be good, Daniels, or so help me…”
“Sir, Ms. Youngblood called in. She asked for you or the XO. I gave her as much of an update as I could. She asked for Doctor Peters and—”
“Spill it, Daniels.” Mitchell’s patience had worn too thin to listen to much more rambling.
“Sir, we found the Doc in his quarters. It looked like a slaughterhouse in there. Blood…everywhere. He was unconscious on the floor. It took quite a bit to revive him.”
Mitchell’s concern instantly shifted. “Where is he now?”
“We have him in his lab and we’re pumping him full of blood.”
“Full of…are you kidding me? He must have sucked down five units from the XO during surgery.” Mitchell’s mind spun as he tried to piece together the different puzzle pieces.
“Sir, he claims that the XO is…” Daniels checked over both shoulders to ensure nobody was within hearing range. “That the XO is infected. That’s the only thing that could have caused the reaction he had. It
took longer to affect him because it had just happened. But he’s certain that the major has the wolf virus.”
Mitchell felt his legs go weak under him. He considered the possibilities then stood upright. He squared his shoulders and placed a hand on Daniels’ arm. “Does Major Tufo or his wife know yet?”
“Negative, sir. I came here first thing.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Mitchell glanced back through the OPCOM door and checked the red dot on the screen indicating how far out Team Two was from the mission. “Go inform Doc to keep this under his hat. I’ll inform the XO and his wife.”
“Sir? Is there any way to counter the virus?” Daniels asked.
Mitchell shook his head. “No, Lieutenant, there isn’t. Nothing short of a silver bullet. The upside is the virus will help him heal faster. And he’ll heal completely.”
“So it’s a good thing?”
“Depends on who you ask, son. If you were to ask Major Tufo, the answer would be a definite ‘negative’ on that one.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Double time it soldier. Make sure nobody approaches the Tufos. They are not to hear about this until I can talk to them.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
*****
“So Matt is okay?” Jennifer asked again.
“Yes. He’s fine. They’re in the middle of a…” Laura sighed and rubbed her hands across her eyes. “Dammit.”
“What’s wrong? You said that he was okay.”
“It’s not that. It’s…” she paused and shook her head. How do you tell someone that you were scared for someone else’s life? Not because you seriously cared if he lived or died, but because you wanted out of a job so badly that you were scared to death that if he didn’t make it, you would be stuck with his job from then on? She knew how petty it sounded and it made her angry with herself. She should be feeling sad for Mark, but she really didn’t know him that well. He was a prankster pain in her ass.
“What’s wrong, Laura? You look like you’re about to cry.” Jennifer suddenly gasped. “Was your lover harmed in the attack?”
Laura snapped out of her pity party and gawked at the younger woman. “What? No. I just…one of the other officers in charge was hurt badly and might not make it. He was…a good man.”
“Was? Do you not expect him to live?”
Laura sat back in her chair and exhaled. “I honestly don’t know.” When Evan had called her back, he sounded sick and she could tell that he was exhausted, but just hearing his voice made her feel better. Until he told her just how badly Major Tufo was hurt. She could tell that there was something else he wanted to tell her but he held back.
“Where there is life, there is hope.” Jennifer’s eyes seemed to twinkle as she spoke and Laura couldn’t help but wonder if she actually believed such naïve things.
“Sure. If you say so.” She stood and stretched her shoulders. “I need to get some rest.”
“Very well.” Jennifer stood and looked out the window of the office. “Do they have designated areas for us to shift?”
Laura stiffened and shook her head. “Look, there’s something you need to know about the squads here. They may be infected with the wolf virus, but they aren’t aware of that. They take a mixture of wolf’s bane and some other things to prevent them from shifting. They…” she sighed and sat back down. “Look, if you need a place to shift, you’re going to have to find it on your own. They can’t know that you’re a wolf. Or that Mick is a cat. Otherwise…they’re liable to try something stupid.”
Jennifer’s face fell. “Seriously? You brought us to the den of hunters under the auspice that we would be safe.”
“And you are. As long as they don’t find out that you’re shifters.”
“Just before a full moon?” Jennifer’s eyes narrowed.
Laura threw her hands up, “I’m sorry, okay? I thought Matt would be here right away and…” She dropped her head into her hands and fought the urge to sob. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Jennifer closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know. Go for a stroll, find a place to shift. Shift in your room. Something. Nothing. I don’t know.”
“Was this a ploy to keep us moving until we were back at your base?” Jennifer’s tone was more than just accusatory.
Laura raised her head and stared at her. “No. Never.”
“Good. Because I’m never going back there.” She lifted her chin and thrust her jaw out slightly in defiance.
Laura snorted and leaned back in her chair. “Then you may as well go home to daddy now.” She watched as Jennifer’s face changed to near shock. “Because I can tell you this. Colonel Mitchell may be pulled by his wolf, but he is still in charge. He’ll never leave his men, so that means he won’t ever leave that base unless he’s dragged away kicking and screaming.” Laura stood and pointed a finger at the shorter woman. “So if you ever had a serious thought of hooking up with your ‘Fated Mate’ you’re going to have to go back to that base. Otherwise, all of this is for nothing. If you just wanted to meet the guy so you can tell him to piss off? I can relay that message for you.”
Laura pushed past the woman and pulled the door open. “If you decide that all of this was for nothing, you need to let me know so I can start planning my return trip home. Otherwise, I think you need to open your mind a little to other possibilities.”
*****
Rufus sat on the edge of the makeshift bed and assessed his wounds. He could still feel pains in his chest when he took a deep breath and knew that most of his ribs were either fractured or cracked. One leg ached with such ferocity that he feared it would never be right again. “I don’t remember what happened.”
“That shiny Doomsday gun of yours blew up in your face,” Paul said as he leaned back in the office chair, his feet propped up on the desk in the corner. “I don’t know who built it for you, but I think I’d demand my money back.”
Rufus looked up at him and Paul fought the urge to cringe. One of his eyes was still singed white and the side of his face bore the scars of the intense heat or radiation or whatever it was that caused the blast. “Your humor is less than amusing, mon ami.”
Paul watched as Rufus continued to take inventory of his aches, pains, and breakage. “I wasn’t joking. I think if I were you, I’d hunt down the bastards responsible for selling me that piece of junk and eat them.”
“Non! We do not eat…” Rufus paused and shook his head slightly. “How have I healed so quickly?”
Paul stopped rocking and purposely avoided his stare. “Yeah, about that.”
“Tell me you did not do what I think you have done.”
Paul sat upright and turned to face his brother. “It was the only way to save you.”
“Fool!” Rufus yelled as he tried to hop off the bed and to his feet. He collapsed in a heap, yelping in pain. Paul was there in an instant, scooping his brother up and placing him gently back on the mattress.
“Don’t try to move yet. You aren’t completely healed.”
“Obviously,” Rufus shot back through gritted teeth, his fangs extended from the pain.
“Look. You may not like it, but animal blood wasn’t going to save you. You were too far gone.”
Rufus lay back on the mattress and groaned. “I would rather have died than take the life of a human.”
“Who says you took their lives?” Paul lied. “You do realize that you can feed from a human without killing them?” Rufus turned his head and stared at his brother with his one good eye. “Yeah, just like you do with your precious animals. If it’s good enough for sheep and cattle, can’t it be good enough for people, too?”
“Non.” Rufus sighed and closed his eyes. “People become addicted to the bite. They want more and more until they are dead.”
“Some, maybe. Others donate their blood, and it’s stored in bags. Not the tastiest way to get human blood, but still better than goat blood,
wouldn’t you say?”
As if on cue, the roll away door opened and Marco drove into the warehouse again. Pulling up to the office he parked the SUV and stepped out, cooler in hand. He pushed open the door of the office and opened the cooler. “We have O positive and some AB negative for your dining pleasure.”
“Monsieur will have all of the above.” Paul waved him toward Rufus who lay still on the mattress.
Marco grabbed an IV stand and pulled it close to the bed. “Which arm should I put it in this time?” he asked Paul.
“Oh, he’s awake now. He can drink it straight from the juice box.” Paul stood up abruptly and walked toward the door. “Don’t forget the straw.”
Marco placed two bags of O positive on the mattress next to Rufus then helped him to a sitting position. “Hungry, boss?”
“Famished.” Rufus took the bag and sunk his fangs into the plastic bag. As he quickly drained the first one and handed the empty bag back to Marco he glanced out the office window to Paul who stood in the middle of the warehouse and stared at the ceiling. “Tell me, Marco, have I been feeding only from bagged blood?”
Marco tossed the empty bag into a trash can and handed him another full bag. “No, we gave you some of the mixed blood from the bar on the boat. It didn’t do anything for you. Mr. Foster knew then that you’d need human blood.” Marco didn’t exactly lie, but he omitted a lot of the truth. “As I drove the boat, Paul forced as much of the beast blood into you as he could to keep you alive.”
Rufus glanced at Paul again and noticed that his blind eye slowly began to focus once more. “So he truly does care?”
Marco gave him a puzzled look. “I would think so. He could have left you to die and inherited everything. As soon as he found out that the human hunters were searching for you…”
Rufus turned and gave him his full attention. “Why were they looking for me?”
Wayward Son Page 7