Nobility

by Dana Lyons

  Rhys had moved closer and sat on the corner of the desk. His devilish expression reminded her of the night they broke into Senator Stanton’s home. Quinn winked and cocked one hip in his I’m-ready stance.

  Simon’s eyes were filled with pride. “Damn, but I like the way she moves. Remind me to never play poker with her,” he announced, chuckling.

  Her desk phone buzzed and she picked it up. She scribbled down a number, “Thanks. Yeah, I’ll let you know what happens.”

  * * *

  Day 2 Evening Prospect Island

  “What do you mean the numbers are down?” the senator asked.

  Richard peered at him. Between the vodka and the pool party, the old reprobate was half-baked and sunburned. “The numbers we had come from models which were programed based on certain conditions.

  “As you know, all conditions can’t be pre-determined in such a public place as an international airport. But we are seeing deaths and panic. Already the travel industry has been knocked down, supply hoarding has begun, and hospitals are being crushed. Operation Patience is performing within metrics.”

  His best I’m-in-control gaze remained fixed even though his heart pounded with trepidation. Under the desk where no one could see, he wiped a sweaty palm on his pants leg. With more assurance than he possessed, he announced, “The CDC tells me they’re ready to order everything shut down. Global quarantine is about to happen.”

  He rose and guided the senator and the others out into the sunshine. “Come now, enjoy the afternoon, you only have a few more days here before we move forward with testing. Keep your eye on the markets. I think they’re about to collapse.”

  With a few half-hearted grumbles, they left him alone and he returned to his office to ponder what was wrecking his plan.

  * * *

  “What is this miracle drug?” Dr. Hastings asked. “I’ve never seen anything turn a sick patient around like this.” He held up a rubber-topped vial of Nobility.

  Lazar couldn’t resist a small measure of pride. His life’s goal had been achieved and his life’s dream had been provided a venue for distribution. “Not a miracle, but an experimental drug. I’m just grateful that No—, ah, the drug was able to help.”

  He collected his coat and valise. “I’m off to London. You’ll send your recommendations on ahead of me?”

  Dr. Hastings took Lazar’s hand as if they were old friends. “Of course. You’ve saved many lives here today and prevented many more deaths going forward. I’ll make sure they know you’re coming.”

  10

  Day 2 Evening Washington DC

  As soon as Rhys drove through the compound’s massive security gates, Dreya took a deep breath of relief. Not that she felt at risk from Getz, but at least once behind the gates she knew there were no eyes watching, no cameras hunting for her ready to cause a spectacle.

  And Getz? She sneered.

  He threw his best at me and I walked away.

  They entered the house and Rhys began taking his clothes off immediately. “I need to get outside and stretch my wings.”

  Quinn followed, removing his clothes. “Yeah, a nice run around the compound.”

  Then Simon declared, “I think I’ll stay here and order dinner.”

  She chuckled. A pack in motion protecting their alpha. Their actions settled around her heart, leaving her warm within their love and protection. As long as she lived, she couldn’t thank Lazar enough … or perhaps Gideon Smith for trying to kill them with Nobility.

  After giving Rhys and Quinn time to transition and take to the grounds and the sky, she walked to the window and searched for them. With her vision, she could see Rhys way up in the thermals.

  How’s the weather up there?”

  All clear.

  Simon came and wrapped his arms around her. He propped his chin on her shoulder. “Have you seen Quinn, yet?”

  “Yeah, a couple times. The silver fur gives him away. He moves terribly fast, though, for an animal of his size.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t want him bearing down on me. Honestly, he’s one scary dude, wolf or human.”

  They stayed like that while the sky darkened. As light gave way to night, the specter of eugenics shadowed her thoughts. “I’ll never understand how a person can believe they have the authority to decide who deserves to live or die.”

  He answered, his voice rumbling into her shoulder. “I’ve found excessive wealth does create a mindset. My Dad used to say, ‘He who pays the bill decides who eats and who doesn’t eat.” She shivered, and he squeezed her tighter. “I’m glad we’re all together now,” he said. “People with money—they scare me.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. But then, I bet if they saw you or Quinn in animal form, they’d be scared of you.”

  Dinner was robust in appetites, if subdued in attitudes.

  “What are you going to say to Getz?” Simon asked.

  “I don't know yet. But I want to see his face.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to see yours?” Quinn said.

  “He will. The more he’s involved, the more he’ll want to promote the optics of being helpful to the investigation. What he doesn’t know is, once I see his face, I’ll know whether he’s lying.”

  “I’ll be back,” Simon said as he slipped from the table. By the time dinner had been cleared away, he returned and announced, “I’ve drawn you a bath.”

  “Really?” she blurted. She glanced from one to the other of her mates; all shrugged as if equally baffled. A giddy rush of excitement shot through her belly. Feeling the need to be pampered, she let him lead her to her bathroom.

  The tub was filled with steaming water and bubbles. A dozen flickering candles littered the room and a glass of red wine rested on a small table by the tub.

  Tears filled her eyes. Rhys and Quinn came to her side; Rhys put his arm around her shoulder while Quinn picked up her hand and kissed her palm.

  Simon poured bath oil into the tub. “We know you never get any alone time, so we wanted to give you a moment’s peace and quiet.”

  “And we want you to know how much we love you,” Rhys said.

  “How important you are,” Quinn added.

  “And how incredible we think you are,” Simon finished.

  Their love and admiration filled her heart and mind. She hugged each one, whispering, “I love you.”

  Rhys pulled her hair into a high knot while Quinn set a towel on the stand. She dropped her clothes and stepped into the tub, easing into the hot water.

  “Now, enjoy your bath. If you need anything, just call us,” Simon said as they filed out and shut the door.

  She rested her head against the little pillow and sighed. Never had she dreamed such a wonderful life would be hers. Nobility made them practically ageless, fast healing, and supercharged. Now, it seemed they were immune to disease.

  The wine dusted her palette with cherry and chocolate notes with a hint of berry. Her sense of taste had become acute as was her hearing. She picked up the faintest sounds, especially the rapid heartbeat of someone lying. Her intuition and her perception of emotion from others had become more accurate and consistent. And no surprise, orgasms were off the scale as the bond between her, Rhys, Quinn, and now Simon deepened with each encounter.

  Is this what Lazar and Nobility have for the human race?

  She raised her glass in a toast.

  I certainly hope so.

  After her bath, she dried and put on a sleep shirt that Rhys had left on the vanity. As she padded into her room, she spied three animal forms in her bed.

  We wanted to be with you tonight!

  Rhys rested at the head of the bed near her pillow, Quinn on the right, and—

  Simon, why aren’t you in the middle?

  We’re putting you in the middle for a while.

  She crawled in and took Simon’s spot. Rhys climbed onto the edge of her pillow, taking a place behind her head. Quinn rolled onto his back and settled his heavy haunches against her thighs, the
silky feel of his fur tickling her legs. Simon jumped onto the bed and lay on his side, his long legs stretched out so his back feet wove into hers. Soon his purr started, sending the vibration through the bed and everyone in it.

  She drifted into sleep, wrapped in their bodies, hearts and minds. Dreams danced in her head. Dark images flitted, coalescing in a bizarre landscape of dead bodies littered all over the ground. They began to pile up, soon blocking her way then towering over her, threatening to topple—

  She sat upright. The throbbing silence of night engulfed her but for her pounding heart. Sweat soaked her brow. Simon and Quinn were gone. She nudged Rhys. Where are they?

  He gave a soft squawk. They’re outside. Two on patrol and one with you at all times. For now.

  Do you really think I’m under threat?

  Doesn’t matter. This way, we know you’re safe. The prime directive—protect you. That’s what we do.

  Once upon a time, based on her need to constantly prove herself, she would have resented such behavior from a man for being condescending. But now she understood the logic of the plan and recognized it as efficient based on the pack’s needs. Rhys nudged her with a wing.

  Go back to sleep. Pull me in.

  She lay back and drew him to her breast, his warmth comforting through her shirt. Knowing she was never alone, always protected and loved, her mind and body relaxed as she drifted into sleep.

  They woke before sunrise, all on the same time clock and waking together. Simon and Quinn had returned to bed earlier in the night, surrounding her. She liked to spend a few minutes with them like this in the morning as their minds slowly woke. A sense of building anticipation drifted up with their rising levels of consciousness.

  Today we’ll face Richard Getz. And I’ll see what kind of man he is.

  After quick showers and an abundance of coffee, they congregated in the office. Rhys’ emotions were held by a hair trigger. Quinn rested in pre-op calm, but was loaded and ready for battle. Simon simmered, primed for action.

  Her team was ready.

  She dialed Getz’s number.

  * * *

  Day 3 Sunrise Prospect Island

  Up long before dawn, Richard read the notes coming in from doctors in the hotspots. Shock spread through his body, leaving him rigid. “Upon administering .5 milligrams of the experimental drug, patient showed early signs of recovery.” He looked at others. “Patient developed antibodies within two hours.” And more. “Patient pulled from the brink of death.”

  How is this possible?

  A chill gripped his mind. His thoughts scrambled to conceive any possible explanation other than …

  Lazar!

  Shuffling through his notes, he searched for what he missed in his earlier haste. There, in the footnotes, drug source: Dr. Anthony Lazar.

  With a great exhalation, he shrank back in his chair. Adrenaline fired his heart and for a moment he felt vulnerable. His insides quaked with fear, and a cold sweat slid down his back.

  Operation Patience is in peril.

  A knot of defeat formed in his chest like a painful bubble of air under his sternum. He dropped his chin to his chest and exhaled, counting softly one, two, three as an impossibility rose in his mind.

  No one can connect this back to us.

  But his sympathetic nervous system had already sent out chemicals. A wave of nausea swept through his belly and he lurched for the trashcan. Gasping, stomach coiled, he panted as his mind spun with a million details.

  Not possible!

  He pushed back the panic, refused the nausea, and slowed his heart. Gradually, his stomach settled and he climbed into his chair. He put his head in his hands.

  No one can touch me. No one can touch us.

  When the mantra settled his mind, calm returned, and he considered Lazar’s ability to unravel the virus. “But how did he have an anti-viral for the virus on hand, ready to deploy?” He ground his teeth, making his jaws hurt. None of this should be happening.

  None of this could be predicted.

  “We stay the course,” he said, needing to announce his decision, needing the conviction of his words spoken aloud.

  This is just another problem to solve.

  He rose to join the others for breakfast on the patio as his phone rang with an unknown caller. He picked it up, frowning.

  No one should have this number but the people who are contacts.

  Figuring it to be a wrong number, he meant to put the phone down when the hairs on his nape rose. A rash of chill bumps flashed down his arm. Instead of setting the phone down, he accepted the call.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Getz?” a woman’s voice asked.

  “Who is this?” he demanded. “How did you get this number?”

  “Like you, I have contacts in high places.”

  “Look, whoever you are, I don’t have time for games. Never call me again—”

  “I’m FBI Special Agent Dreya Love. You’re aware of the pandemic, sir?”

  That woman from Dulles, the FBI agent. Not dead!

  Oddly, he wondered if her words were meant to be a trick question. Suddenly, he wanted to put the phone down. He didn’t want to speak with her. On a visceral level, she frightened him.

  He wanted to scream, ‘Leave me alone!’ but instead offered his criticism. “Don't be absurd, young woman. Of course, I’m aware of it. I—”

  “Then you know who I am,” she said, confidence ringing in her voice.

  “I believe you’re the brave agent from Dulles.” The words swelled in his throat, blocking his breath. Desperate to get rid of her, he asked, “What can I do for you?” Immediately, he cringed, realizing he’d given her an open door.

  “Thank you for offering, sir. Actually, I’d like to ask you a few questions. With the worldwide lockdown, I assume you’ll be on your island. My team and I can be there by, oh, say late afternoon?”

  He scrambled for a means of putting her off. “You can’t travel. As you said there is a lockdown.”

  She gave him no answer, and he strained to hear her nervous heartbeat, her sweat, her hesitant breath indicative of a fishing expedition. But he detected none of that. As the seconds passed, his nerves stretched. When she finally spoke, he jumped.

  “We’ve been cleared. No trace of contagion.”

  “But you—”

  “As I said, we’ve been cleared.”

  His brain stalled.

  How could she be cleared of infection?

  He reached for an excuse. “I have many highly important guests on the island—I can’t risk them.”

  “I only need to see you. No risk to them. We’ll maintain an acceptable distance. This afternoon, then? I’ll text you our ETA when we get closer. Expect a helicopter.”

  She hung up on him.

  He stared at the phone as if a demon had popped out of it.

  Who the hell is this woman?

  Even more chilling, he wondered …

  How is she alive?

  * * *

  Dreya terminated the call. “Well, what do you think?”

  “He sounded rattled,” Rhys said.

  “I agree,” Quinn added. “People at his end of the food chain don’t like to be challenged. I think his plans are coming apart and he doesn’t know what to do.”

  “I want to see him squirm when you set your eyes on him,” Simon declared.

  She made the call to Jarvis. “I spoke to Getz. He was quite accommodating; we’re invited to a late lunch on his private island.”

  He chuckled. “Somehow I doubt that. I’ll make arrangements. Expect a helicopter within the hour.”

  The chopper came and whisked them out to the airport where a small jet flew down the coast. In Florida, they switched to a military helicopter out to the island. The noise and vibration drove all conversation internal.

  Quinn, when we arrive, I want you to stay in the helicopter and shift. Use your wolf’s nose. You’re the back-up intel for my reads.

  Got it
.

  Rhys and Simon will come with me. Rhys, you’re security. Simon, I want your doctor’s eyes on Getz.

  Down below, the clear Caribbean waters sped by as they bore down on Prospect Island. The pilot circled the island and settled on the helipad. While waiting for Getz to appear, Quinn closed the door between the pilot’s cabin and the cargo bay. He undressed, folded his clothes neatly, and shifted.

  “You’re in the dark with the sun behind you, so I don’t think he’ll see you.” She stroked the top of his head and scratched behind his ears. Soon, Rhys said, “Here he comes.”

  She jumped from the bay door with Rhys and Simon behind her. Getz had a barrier set up; they met him at a distance of ten feet.

  “Mr. Getz, thank you for meeting us. This won’t take long.”

  “I do this strictly as a courtesy, you understand. Since a biological event is happening, my time and energies are needed elsewhere.”

  She nodded. “I expect so.” She had the evidence bag containing Harper’s blister package marked 22-b in her pocket. She focused on his face, watching the tiny muscles fleeting through various reactions. “I have reason to think you know what 22-b is.”

  His pupils dilated with shock before a fixed expression took over his face. Still, quivering reactions surrounded the corners of his mouth.

  Quinn, what do you get?

  He stinks of fear and rage.

  “I’ve no idea what you’re speaking about,” Getz replied. “Now, if you don't have any pertinent business, I’m going to have to terminate this interview.”

  She extracted the evidence bag and held it up. “This is 22-b.”

  He squinted; recognition bloomed and worry drew wrinkles across his brow before he smoothly arranged his face into innocence. Next, he lied. “What’s that?”

  “A blister pack labeled 22-b.” His gaze remained cool, but one corner of his mouth broke into a microscopic quiver.

  I’ve got enough, she alerted the team. Are we ready to go?