Werewolf Phenomenon

by Claudia Silva

  All three human agents who worked at the agency occupied a chair, as well. The witch, Victoria, who had been there to certify that William was, in fact, telling the truth, sat with a different companion by her side. Instead of the younger teleporter, a much more experienced and older witch waited next to her wearing a strange set of a blouse and long skirt that didn’t really go together. Like it seemed to be with all witches, the dark fabric revealed too much of her aging chest. Rebecca thought it peculiar that witches dressed the part, as if they were starring in a fantasy story, and wondered if being a witch was a full-time profession for them.

  William looked around like a lost puppy in a den of monsters. Without thinking, he reached out to the collar that was still attached to his neck as if it were keeping him from swallowing. He was wearing the same shirt and pants they had lent him the day before, and his bare feet still touched what Rebecca knew was a cold floor. Just like she was, Will was in dire need of a shower. Between the mud and the scent of his stench, she couldn’t begin to imagine what the rest of the vampire community was thinking.

  They wouldn’t kill him with the director present, she thought to herself while taking a quick glance around the hallway behind her where the entire population of werewolf hunters waited quietly.

  “Hello, sir,” she heard William say in the most confident tone he could muster, making her turn around to see the back of his head as he sat on the long table. While William had been dragged into the conference room, Rebecca had been made to wait outside with the others; clearly, she wasn’t that important in the scheme of things. Not even after having spent an entire night with him. William continued, “I’m glad you’re all unharmed.”

  Rebecca realized the werewolf had no idea of what had happened back at The Pecan. The director offered a short clearing of his throat, “For the most part.”

  “Dr. Grant,” William acknowledged the presence of the scientist he knew, then to the others by saying, “everyone, nice to meet your acquaintance.”

  “It’s been twelve hours since the rest of your brethren,” the director spoke again without wasting time in cordialities, “have not only confirmed they know of your betrayal, but have torn one of our most used safe houses to pieces.”

  His silence meant it had finally dawned on him. “I-I’m sorry… sir,” William muttered. “I didn’t-”

  “My priority right now is the information you offer,” said Lucius, “I feel we are running out of time. Do you still mean to use it to make a deal with us?”

  There was a brief pause, Rebecca wondered what made William hesitate. “I am not a spy, director,” William told the room. “I honestly had no idea they had put so many trackers in me. I-I have no idea… I can’t even begin to imagine how they managed to do it without my knowledge. You have to believe me. I had no idea and I’m sorry.”

  The director must’ve signaled him because he said, “Do you have the information?”

  Once more, William hesitated. Rebecca could feel his anxiety from where she was standing, the sounds his body made, the scents he released. “I do.” Then, “if you still have the key. You don’t even need me, all you need is the key.”

  “I have it.” Dylan, who had been allowed to enter the room, said. “Where in Chicago is the security box?”

  This time, there was no hesitation when the werewolf answered. “It’s in a small bank called Trust Bank.”

  “Never heard of it,” that had been Jake, speaking for the first time. Rebecca wondered how the three of them had managed to get off a flying airplane after fighting dozens of werewolves and yet be here, sitting down like nothing had happened while she looked like she had been run over by a train.

  “Victoria,” the director addressed the head witch, “I need a witch to teleport William to Chicago in order to retrieve the box and then bring him and the information back to us.”

  Before the witch could answer, she was interrupted. “I’m sorry, sir… but, I can’t do it,” William’s voice was quick, trembling. “I… they know I betrayed them. They must’ve suspected what I’ve been doing all this time. They must’ve known I was in contact with the FBI and you. Those trackers I had? Well, I think those have been inside me for a while now. They knew. I think they know about my plan. They must have a plan.”

  Silence. The room went completely quiet.

  “What do you suggest we do, then, Mr. Woods?” Lucius spoke calmly. “Have you memorized this information you offered?”

  “No, but I can tell you a few thin-”

  Lucius wouldn’t hear it, “You promised information and yet you can’t retrieve it. You can’t make it available to us. So far we have only held losses since we met you.”

  “You have the key,” William said, agitated. “You can send someone. Send Dylan there and he can get it.”

  “If what you say is true and they know we’re coming,” Dylan spoke, “then they will smell my blood before I even reach the building.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not easy to kill you,” William snorted, “It’s a piece of cake to kill me!”

  Lucius said, “And yet, here you are, Mr. Woods. Very much alive.”

  “I’ve been lucky,” William retorted, “I’ve been careful. Going willfully into a trap is suicide.”

  “I will not sacrifice any more of my agents unless I don’t have any other choice,” Lucius said, calmly.

  There was another silence, Rebecca heard the room shift uncomfortably as it waited to hear what the werewolf had to say.

  “Please,” his voice breaking, pleading: “please, take me into your agency. Don’t throw me back out to those beasts. I’ve risked everything for this.”

  Hearing the director take a deep breath in before continuing, “Mr. Woods,” his voice solemn, “I lost an agent today. I lost an agent because I agreed to give you a chance. I imagine what would have happened if I had brought you here instead.”

  They must’ve all felt realization in William’s heart, “This-this is the agency?”

  After another deep breath, the director said, “At this point, you either give me hard proof that you mean us no harm and that you, in fact, aim to help our endeavor, or I will be rid of you as s-“

  There was a loud pound on the table, the wood cracking. “No!” Will shouted.

  What happened next was faster than the blink of an eye. Rebecca heard the weapon come out of its holster and knew she had to do something before it even happened. Since she had lost her own weapon, she instinctively reached under the jacket of the werewolf hunter standing next to her. With a borrowed gun and taking the safety off, she forced herself into the conference room before anyone could stop her; the gun aiming at the one pointing a gun at William.

  Inside, she saw Will, standing up, his fists buried on the cracked conference table, the chair pushed behind him, his yellow werewolf eyes and teeth out for the world to behold. The director of the agency sat calmly in front of him. To his left, Dylan stood, his arm outstretched holding his gun firmly as he pointed it at the boy decisively. Rebecca knew her partner would not hesitate to kill the werewolf who had been allowed to trespass in his territory; his home.

  Dylan continued pointing at Will just as he turned to look at Rebecca pointing her gun at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Ms. Sawyer,” Lucius said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t easy to get any feelings out of Lucius and yet Rebecca seemed to have managed to make him angry, “Put your weapon down. Now.”

  “Sir,” she knew it wasn’t her place, except lately she was beginning to feel she could do anything she felt was right, regardless of what other people thought or said. “Don’t kill him.”

  She felt William’s eyes on her. She felt everyone’s eyes on her. Not that she cared, she knew what she had to do and that was saving an innocent soul from slaughter.

  “Put. Your. Gun. Down,” repeated the director. “You too, agent Torrence.” Seeing as they both hesitated, the director added, “That’s an order.”

  Finally, they did as instruct
ed. Behind her, the owner of the gun, a werewolf hunter she knew only as Isaac, snatched his gun out of her hand. Rebecca let him, feeling his rage after what she had done. An agent’s weapon wasn’t something to be taken lightly and she had defiled that fact.

  “Mr. Woods,” Lucius addressed the werewolf first, “I will confer with my colleagues,” he nodded to Victoria, “to see if you can be teleported to Chicago. There’s still a possibility no one is expecting you at the bank and-“

  Will was not done interrupting, “They will be-“

  Lucius raised one hand signaling William to be quiet. “If the witches agree, they will escort you there, you will take the contents out of your security box and walk right out. You will be teleported back here where we will make the proper arrangements to have you join our agency.”

  There was an immediate murmur of disapproval from the crowd waiting outside the conference room.

  “Sir,” William’s voice was now calm, “It won’t be that easy.”

  Lucius continued, “Should you encounter any difficulty, your escort will teleport back here. Immediately, she will return to you with a team we will have ready to assist you.”

  Victoria, the head witch, interrupted the director, “I’m not sure I agree with your plans director. Jasmin, as you know, still hasn’t awakened from her coma. She is still in delicate condition and we don’t know when or if she will recover from the events we survived yesterday.”

  “We will talk,” he acknowledged her concerns. “I may still persuade you.”

  “The safety of my coven is my first priority,” Victoria said with superiority, “I will not compromise their safety.”

  Her companion, a witch Rebecca had never seen before, suddenly spoke: “I can do this, mistress.”

  “We will talk, Oralia,” Victoria stopped her before she could say anything; her hand filled with rings as she held it up to her face.

  “And I will be on that team,” Rebecca said out loud.

  Lucius seemed to be losing his patience with her. Closing his eyes, she could tell he was trying to contain his anger before addressing her once more. “Ms. Sawyer,” he said in a calm, almost eerie voice, “I think you need to go downstairs and freshen up.” Rebecca glanced at Dylan, who couldn’t erase a smile off his face, “You are in dire need of a change of clothes.”

  “Sir, I-“

  “You are dismissed, agent Sawyer,” he looked at her with his red eyes, a color she had never seen in him before.

  Perhaps she now viewed things differently and she may feel strongly about the meeting taking place, but Rebecca had not forgotten when it was pertinent to follow instructions, especially when coming from the director of the North American Vampire Secret Agency himself.

  “Yes, sir.” It had been hard to agree, yet it was what needed to be done. Turning on her heels, she began walking to the elevator while pushing her way through the werewolf hunters.

  As upset as she was, Rebecca couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to be out of the bloody clothes and jump into a hot shower. Feeling the water fall on her skin was just what she needed. It was almost enough to make her forget she was angry at Lucius in the first place. With her hands, she gently rubbed on her skin feeling the dried werewolf blood slowly dissolve in her hands and into the drain. It was amazing how the air around her began to clear up as the stench of werewolf left with the running water.

  She stood there inside the tub, with the water falling on her hair, for what felt like forever. Her thoughts quickly began going over the events of the last twenty-four hours. A lot had happened since she had woken up finding herself in the middle of a battle with Dylan. Her life had changed more in one day than it had since she had turned into a vampire. From the way she looked at life, to her abilities, to her nature. She was a vampire, there was no question about that. No denying it. She was now more than she had ever been.

  The changes weren’t only physical, because apparently, her very core was changing, as well. Right now she felt like two very different people trapped inside one shell. One side of her was still her old self; someone who cared too much what other people thought, someone who judged and worried about consequences and sulked because things didn’t go her way. Her other self was quickly growing, perhaps even taking over. She wasn’t so scared all the time, so insecure. Instead, she was confident and didn’t waste her time thinking about trivialities. She had doubted the vampire blood running through her veins would change her like the others warned.

  She was beginning to believe she could do anything without stopping to think about the physical or emotional consequences. All actions became clearer and more defined in her mind in a logical way. Fear and regret slowly fading away.

  Was she going to become a monster, after all? Was she turning into Dylan? A detached being with no ties to humanity?

  No. She could still feel. She felt she loved Dylan, for one. She felt she cared for the vulnerable William. She felt compassion for the human race, threatened by a force they couldn’t possibly begin to understand. She felt important, like her existence finally mattered. She mattered. She had a purpose.

  If she had once doubted what she had done, leaving everything behind to become part of a different race, she was beginning to understand it had been the best decision she could have taken.

  Turning the water off, she took the towel hanging from the hook and stepped out. It was a towel she had brought from home - from the last place she had called home because the agency was her home now. It was nice to still have small mementos from her old life, even if they were as insignificant as a towel.

  Yet, she couldn’t linger. There were still things to do, people to persuade. Above her, there was a boy who wasn’t really a boy; a werewolf who wasn’t really a werewolf at all. He needed help and it seemed she was the only one who understood how to help him.

  Opening her closet she stared into the dozens of identical suits it now contained. At least that’s how they looked to her. Before, she had worn light dresses on top of her dance clothes or sweats during the winter. Her former profession as a ballet teacher wasn’t without a few perks. Now, she needed to look professional, non-threatening to humans. In every way, she had to become what she wore. She had to look like a government agent. From her closet she took a grey jacket and slacks very much like the ones she had worn the day before. She chose a light blue shirt to go with it. In a matter of minutes, she looked and felt like a competent secret agent again.

  Going back to the bathroom, she opened one of the drawers under the sink to pull out a pair of earplugs. She had stopped thinking about how the sound the hair dryer bothered her hearing. The earplugs had become part of her life.

  Even with her hearing begin impaired by the air blowing over the earplugs, she was able to hear the door to her apartment opening.

  Dylan.

  No one else had access to her private quarters.

  She pretended not to hear him. Instead, she finished drying and brushing her hair before joining him in her bedroom. Dylan waited on her bed, a bed they often shared; his legs open, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “Hi,” he said simply. He was a man of few words, but usually not with her. Raising his head, she could see his deep brown eyes staring back at her. There was so much she wanted to tell him and she felt he wanted to say some things himself. They both knew it wasn’t the time. “Feeling better?”

  “Where’s William?” she asked promptly.

  “Relax.” Dylan stood up, this time moving his hands inside his pockets. “He’s upstairs. We’re all getting ready.”

  “Ready?” she asked, “For what? For the bank? What did Lucius decide?”

  Only Dylan chose not to tell her right away. Rebecca thought he just wanted to enrage her, which was why she moved her head away when he tried to hold her cheek with one hand. “What’s wrong?”

  She took his arm away from her, “What’s going to happen, Dylan? Maybe you don’t care about some werewolf, but I do. I believe everything he says. I
was like him once, remember? Thirsty for a place where I belonged. You helped me find it. You brought me here. But now it’s my turn to help someone else find a home. I need to help him. I need to save him and bring him here where he belongs.”

  Dylan waited for her rant to be over. He did not interrupt her. She thought he would. “We’re not going to kill him,” he said.

  “Do you want to kill him?”

  Shrugging, he said, “No, I don’t want to kill him.”

  She had been about to protest. She had been certain his answer would be different. “Even though he’s a werewolf?”

  Dylan did not answer that question, “Whatever,” he said, “What’s important is we’re getting ready to raid that bank in Chicago and William has asked for you, specifically. Now, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I personally think you’ve been involved enough as it is and-”

  “I’ll go,” she frowned offended, “Of course, I’ll go.”

  Sighing, Dylan said, “Look, this is a dangerous mission. This could go in one of two ways: either the werewolves have no idea about what’s in that bank or they do and it’ll be a war zone. I, personally think they do. William will show up and all hell will break loose. That’s when you want to go in? You want to be surrounded by werewolves… again? Not killing them will not work this time.”

  This offended her, too. More proof that she could still feel, even if it was anger. “I did it at The Pecan and I’ll do it again.” She watched Dylan raise his eyebrows in amazement. “I’m not the same person I was yesterday, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ve noticed. And I understand. I do. I truly do. And I’m glad you finally see it my way.”