WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos)

by Gwendolyn Druyor

  Trask didn’t look up. “That’s as I requested. Which is why I’m looking for the number to dial on the office phone.”

  “What office phone?”

  She looked again at the desk and then turned to look beside the door where the phones were hung in the laboratories and exam rooms. No phone. She pulled out a leather bound notepad and added to a growing to do list.

  “Dr. Trask, I presume.”

  She looked sharply in his direction. “Do not call me doctor.”

  The man smiled. He wore jeans with a vest but no suit coat. His tie hung loose but his gray hair was more or less neatly pulled back in a queue. “You needn’t call me doctor either. Although I am a doctor. PhD. My mother called me Boy and my friends have called me trouble. But you can just call me Walter, Trask. I’m the head of--”

  “Our assignment together has nothing to do with your division’s,” she took a breath and spit out the word, “experiments. We are to establish superior surveillance and tracking systems throughout the Americas. And that is all I am required to do with you.”

  “And in exchange you get this state of the art facility, your pick of experiment materials, and Consortium support of your search for Gamma Subject.” Walter strode over and perched on the edge of her desk. “I hear you haven’t had much luck in tracking that lost experiment since he blew up your headquarters along with three other Biotech Research divisions eight years ago immolating your records as well as your genius lead researcher.”

  Trask set her notebook sharply down on the table. “And the Director, bless his heart, has sent you to me so that I can help you track down your personal research assistant who absconded with all of your experiment subjects, essentially shutting down your entire department.”

  Walter took the smoked glass desk nameplate from one of her file boxes, a smile playing across his eyes. “Tsk tsk tsk. Control yourself, Trask. Your Georgia upbringing shows when you’re being a bitch.”

  Trask turned to leave. “I’ll have my things transferred when I find my office.”

  “They want us together, Trask,” Walter said. “And as I’m sure you’ve heard, I quite like bitches. I do think that my division can benefit from yours, Ms.,” he read off the nameplate, “Supervisor of Biotech Division, Homo Sapiens Operations. And I know that I can help you find the fellow who destroyed your face.”

  Trask stopped with her hand on the doorknob.

  Walter continued. “We have different styles, yes. But we each want to catch someone quite badly. The Consortium Director is willing to give us the resources to do so as long as we work together.”

  She turned. Her eyes briefly met his. Then she walked over to his side of the desk. She picked up his buffalo and raised her eyebrows quizzically.

  “There is a Navajo legend of—”

  A wave of her hand cut him off. She crossed to the window, taking the curtains in one hand. After several deep breaths, she shook her head at the view and tossed away the grey and white damask material. She stalked back to Walter and set the buffalo exactly where it had been.

  “I can see the benefits of having help in my search. And I can even see the benefits of having a team of . . . biologists from a different discipline influence my work. But there must be some decorative changes. And I must insist upon the strictest of privacy in this office. You will take no meetings in here. You will most definitely not allow your research assistants in here. I will allow no recording of any kind in this room. You must disable the camera on your laptop before I will agree to this arrangement.”

  “Oh, I entirely agree to all of your stipulations. I have already disabled the laptop’s eye. I plan to personally install an additional lock on the door with a code known only to you and I. And we should have maintenance install a privacy curtain around the door as we have in some of the exam rooms. But I see nothing amiss with the decorations.”

  “There are birds on the curtains.”

  “I rather like birds.”

  While his new Biotech Research team continued negotiations, the Director smoothed the perfect crease of his slacks and lowered the volume on the audio of Trask and Walter’s monitor. He had other more promising projects to look in on. He turned from the display of the many feeds from their office to the single view he had so far been successful at implanting in Chief Morioka’s office at the Homicide Unit headquarters in Chicago. Morioka was speaking with a female the facial recognition software identified onscreen as Officer Deirdre Morton, nobody the Consortium was concerned with. He moved on to glance at another of the hundred monitors in his viewing garden.

  Chapter Three

  “How’s it going, Michelle?” Sher set her clipboard on the reception counter to fix the collar of her lab coat. “You figuring everything out okay?”

  The new receptionist stood, using the low desk and higher reception counter for an assist. Her braids barely cleared the counter. “I was having some trouble with the billing software but Nick here noticed what I was doing wrong and he got me straightened out in a heartbeat.”

  The man in the corner with a gray muzzled golden retriever at his feet waved the ladies off when they looked at him. He reached down to clean some gunk from the corner of the dog’s eye.

  “Well, I’m crazy grateful, no matter what he says. He may have designed the system but that doesn’t mean he’d be a good teacher. He is though.” She raised her voice to Nick who had returned to reading his book. “He should never have left the school system. And not just anyone would adopt an older dog like that. Lucky Rufus. Your mother,” she noticed he was trying to pay her no mind, “his mother would be so proud if she’d just lasted another week.” Michelle waddled to the swinging door that led into the back rooms. “Can you watch the front for a moment, Dr. Hillen? This little guy has been kicking my bladder for ten minutes.”

  Sher turned to Nick as the barefoot little woman disappeared. “I didn’t know your mother just passed. I’m so sorry.”

  Nick shook his head. “It was not unexpected.”

  “I didn’t know you were a teacher.” Sher crouched down to massage the old dog’s hips.

  Laylea tripped out of the giant dog bed in the corner. She bounded over to the mom and stood on her knee. The golden poked his wet nose in her belly for a sniff.

  “That woman is, well,” Nick stumbled over his words, “she just asks questions.” He reached down and scooped Laylea into his lap since Sher was ignoring the puppy. “And she’s just so tiny and pregnant,” he added.

  Sher nodded, her focus more on the elder dog. “She’s harmless,” she said and then corrected herself, “she looks harmless. Interesting.”

  Sher pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and settled herself on the ground. She stuck the business end in an armpit while attaching the earpieces. “Mind if I examine Rufus right here? He’s comfy. I’m not expecting any more clients today.” She let Rufus sniff the shiny disc before she pressed it to his side.

  Nick nodded though Sher barely noticed. When she reached over to listen to the other side, Rufus bared his teeth at her. Nick saw and quickly reprimanded the dog.

  “Rufus.”

  The golden turned at the sound of his name.

  A treat hit Nick in the chest. With his hands busy scratching Laylea, he barely caught it. Sher gestured with her head so he tentatively reached out and offered the treat to his dog.

  Sher mouthed Good boy at him and Nick repeated, “Good boy.”

  Rufus took the liver treat and laid his head back down on the floor.

  Sher reached over again, this time scratching the nape of his neck with her other hand. “You want to reward him when he looks to you for direction. You want to schedule the positive reinforcement as quickly as possible, whether it’s a treat or a pat or a good boy, so he knows what he’s being rewarded for. Rufus is smart but he didn’t get a lot of training from his first family.”

  Michelle pushed through the swinging door. She stopped at the sight of her new boss sitting on the floor. “Dr
. Hillen, do you want me to get Chris to carry Rufus into an exam room?”

  Sher looked up and smiled widely at her new receptionist. “Thank you for asking Michelle. That’s a great idea. We’ll be okay here for now.”

  Nick chuckled. “Nice scheduling.”

  “What?” Sher asked. “I didn’t reward her.”

  “You thanked her, told her it was a great idea. And you smiled. You never smile, Dr. Sher.”

  The doctor looked away from Nick, acutely aware of her natural frown. She watched Michelle lower herself out of sight and then turned her eyes to Laylea when the four pound puppy yawned.

  This was Laylea’s third visit to the clinic, her third set of vaccinations. Sher had noticed the abandoned dog responded faster to conditioning techniques than any other animal she’d worked with in the six years since she’d shunned her human research. She’d also noticed how naturally Bailey applied operant conditioning in his interactions with the dog. He used verbal and kinesthetic cues, appropriate scheduling, and randomized reinforcement like he was born to it. Which really, he had been. She’d have to be more careful. Clark was never going to stop letting strangers into their lives so it was up to Sher to do a better job of covering her past. If this software designer could spot her behavioral manipulation, any high level biologist or psychiatrist would recognize her mastery of a technique which should only be of passing interest to a veterinarian.

  Laylea yawned again.

  “I’m hearing more occlusion in the lungs. Did you bring Rufus in for breathing issues, Nick?”

  “He’s tired,” Nick said. “And agitated. This is the calmest he’s been.”

  Sher pulled an otoscope from her pocket and looked into the dog’s ears. She examined the membrane around his eyes and along his gum line. She pet the dog’s fur in the wrong direction to see his reaction. When she smoothed it back down, the dog relaxed.

  “You just relax, Rufus. I know you miss your old dad but Nick is gonna take care of you.” While she talked to the old golden, she tapped a dot of lavender oil under each of his paws and rubbed the rest of it into his fur. Then she stood and brushed herself off.

  Nick stood with her, juggling Laylea and the book in his arms. Laylea started wriggling, her tail thumping between Nick’s book and his belly. A second later, the bells on the clinic door jangled.

  “Hi Clark.”

  “Hey Nick. Let me take her for you.” Clark ducked around Rufus and Sher to catch Laylea before she wriggled herself right into a fall.

  Bailey followed his dad in. He backed up to Rufus to let the old dog smell him. He whispered, “Hi Mom,” before turning to scratch behind Rufus’s ears. When the dog dropped his jaw, Bailey reached back to push on his hips just as Sher had earlier. The dog looked up at Nick.

  Nick said, “good boy,” just a second after Bailey did.

  “Good job, mister.” The kid smiled widely at Nick and handed the man a treat.

  Sher covered her face with her hand as Nick laughed out loud. She put a hand on Bailey’s head and directed him over to the reception counter.

  “Give me a minute, guys.”

  Clark took Bailey in hand as Sher reached around him to get her clipboard before returning to Nick.

  “It sounds like he has a bit of a cold.”

  Clark chatted with Michelle about how she was liking the new job. Michelle tried to include Bailey in the conversation but even though Laylea was straining to lick his face, Bailey’s full attention was focused on his mother’s conversation.

  “He’s six years old?” Michelle asked.

  Clark was startled, “Who told you that?

  The woman pulled a stack of sheets from the printer. “Oh nobody. I’m guessing.” She stapled the papers and struggled out of her seat to swap the bundle with the sign-in sheets on the counter. “I’m going to have one you see. And forewarned is forearmed as they say. Will mine be that,” she searched for the right word, “focused?”

  Clark looked to see if Bailey was paying them any attention although you really never could tell with Bailey. He seemed to have ears all over. Much like his mother. “He’s pretty smart.”

  Michelle reached up to scratch Laylea’s ears. Her dark fingers riffled the puppy’s pale fur like a storm racing through a field of wheat. “Were you like that at his age?”

  Clark doubted it. “I have no idea. Can’t remember.”

  “Oh of course not. You wouldn’t remember being six years old.” Michelle laughed. “Although, that’s the year I learned to tie my shoe. I remember that. Does your mother ever talk about you being a gifted child, like Bailey?”

  “Alas, Michelle,” Clark shrugged, “I’m an orphan and an only child, before you ask.”

  “Oh, how awful. How did your parents pass?”

  Before Clark could address the question, Sher interrupted. “Excuse me, Michelle, Nick is ready to check out now. I’ll have Chris bring up his meds if you can just take care of the billing.”

  “Oh certainly, Dr. Sher. And if I have problems with the billing, Nick can help.” Michelle laughed a bright little chuckle.

  “Mom? Lavender, Mom?”

  Nick answered, “We’re going to get a plant from the nursery on Canal St.”

  “Not the oil?” Bailey asked Nick directly.

  “Bailiff.” Each parent put a hand out to touch the kid.

  But Nick wasn’t bothered. “We’ll try the plant. See how it goes.”

  Bailey nodded and bent down to answer Rufus’ requests for attention.

  “Bailiff.” Michelle picked up the phone and hit the button for the back room as she laughed. “That’s perfect with your name being Sheriff.”

  “Your name is Sheriff?” Nick asked.

  “Michelle,” Sher began.

  Clark interrupted. “You seem to have this under control, Michelle. We’re gonna gather the doctor’s things and get out of your hair.”

  He set a hand firmly on Sher’s back and escorted her to the wide open back room with cages and the more complicated equipment of a veterinarian’s office. Bailey stayed in the front. Clark set Laylea on the enormous wheeled treatment table locked down in the middle of the room. He bent over to kiss her on the muzzle and Laylea licked him back. Sher watched for the swinging door to settle into the frame.

  She turned on her son’s father. “Clark, that is the nosiest woman I have ever met.”

  Clark spun. “Yes, she’s fabulous!” He slapped a hand on the exam table.

  It broke.

  Laylea yelped as the slick surface tilted beneath her dancing feet. She flew into the air, paws flailing. Miraculously Clark caught the dog before she hit the ground.

  “Sorry, Laylea, I forget my strength when I get excited,” he said as he peered at the table leg. “Looks like I bent the wheel again.” He stood to hand the puppy over to his wife. “The thing with Michelle is you’ll know,” Clark paused when an Hispanic twenty-something with colorful tattoos covering every inch of exposed flesh exited the storeroom closet. Looking over at the tech, Clark casually reached out to level the tilted table.

  “Hi, Clark.” The tech detoured to join them, a red pill bottle and bag of hip flex treats in his hands.

  “Hey, Chris.”

  “Is Bailey here?” He didn’t even pause for a breath. “You should get him Free Dragon. It’s totes creative and you actually gain health when you avoid fights. I can loan you my copy.”

  “Is that the medicine for Nick?” Sher cut in.

  “For Rufus, right?” Chris asked.

  “Yes.”

  Chris nodded, not moving, “Yeah.”

  “Bailey’s in the lobby, Chris,” Clark said.

  “Cool, I’ll grab the game from my locker.” Chris turned around and jogged out the door leading to exam room A.

  Clark turned back to Sher. “Michelle is going to find out everything there is to know about everyone who comes in this clinic.”

  “What if she’s here to get information on us?”

  “No,” C
lark shook his head. “Her pulse never changed. She’s not being deceptive. She’s just curious. I love her.”

  He bent to the foot of the table, giving Sher time to realize the benefits of having such a gatekeeper. With his bare hands, he straightened the steel stem attaching the caster. The lock down mechanism flipped open easily and the wheel spun. But he’d still have to replace that stem. When he stood, the shadow had cleared from Sher’s face.

  “Yeah,” Clark hopped over to the wooden pegs he’d installed by the back door. He lifted her packed messenger bag off with one hand. “And she never has to know who you are. You can train her not to ask us questions. She should be easy for you.”

  Sher directed the bag onto the repaired table when he approached. The wheel held. “It’s not easy to train someone to deny their natural inclinations. Look at you.” She pulled her new portable ultrasound from the bag and set it on the surface with a thump. “You loved movies. But they didn’t want you to sit still that long or, I’m guessing, to think creatively.” Glancing around the room for anything she needed to take home, she spotted her journal lying out on the cluttered desk in the corner. She collected it, snapping each of the three rubber bands in turn to be sure they hadn’t been moved from the grooves long worn into the leather binding. “But I couldn’t wipe that interest. So I redirected your need for stories into the way you delivered mission reports.” Sher tucked her journal into the front pocket of her messenger bag and tossedthe much lightened bag over her shoulder. “And that memory came back. It was the one thing I was able to retrieve.” Clark took the puppy from her arms, kissing it on the head. “I don’t know that I remember liking movies. I think maybe I learned to like them again because I got to sit in the dark with that beauty.” He held the puppy up to look at Sher. Laylea curled her tail into her belly until Sher pushed her back into the safety of Clark’s arms. “I guess I really hated writing.”

  Sher laughed. “Yeah. That was easy to condition out of you. I wish I knew why they’d want a soldier who can’t write.”

  Clark stepped over to Sher. He pulled her into his free arm and kissed her. Laylea whimpered, afraid of being crushed in the tight hug. Sher reached a hand up to support Laylea’s hindquarters and she let herself be kissed the way a woman ought to be kissed.