For the Good of All

by Nicky Charles

  “That’s correct.”

  Sister Denise looked incredulous. “You realize the opportunity you’re turning down? What kind of a life do the children have here? No education, no healthcare, no future.” She ended her statement with a derisive glance around the room. Tina ducked out of sight just in time.

  “I do my best to ensure their needs are met.” There was definitely a pissed off tone to Sister Bernita’s voice now.

  “No offence was intended.”

  Yes, it was. Tina mouthed the words, her dislike of Sister Denise growing.

  The annoying nun spoke again. “We’ve been providing you with extensive support for quite some time now.”

  “And your efforts on behalf of these children are appreciated.”

  “Do you know where the money comes from?” Sister Denise ignored Sister Bernita’s comment. “Wealthy families. Families who love children. Families who have money to spend and want to give some lucky child an amazing life.”

  “Their generosity is commendable, however—”

  “If they find out their generosity isn’t going to be rewarded, they could very well pull their funding, not only from you but from the other orphanages we support. Would you want to be responsible for that?” Sister Denise’s tone had grown sharper, more accusing.

  Tina frowned not liking the pressure tactics being used. She eased forward so she could see inside again.

  “That would be—”

  “Need I remind you, this is the first request we’ve made of you?”

  “I know, however I still want—”

  “Sister Bernita, the other orphanages I work with have gladly handed children over to me. I fail to see your problem. We are on a tight schedule. What you want isn’t what matters. I have families waiting for children. Now bring me Juanita, Gabriella and Mateo. They meet all the requirements.” Sister Denise stood up. “I’ll be waiting by my vehicle and, if need be, I’ll find the children myself.”

  Tina didn’t wait to hear Sister Bernita’s response to the ultimatum. Her heart was pounding; a sick, worried feeling was filling her stomach. She hurried towards where Sister Denise’s vehicle was parked. It was doubtful the nasty nun would be able take the children from the compound unchallenged, or so she kept telling herself. The feeling of impending doom building inside her wasn’t listening though. The other day she’d had a vision of someone trying to take the children. Should she get the guards or…? The sight of the Hummer had her skidding to a halt. There was one way to ensure the children couldn’t be taken, or at least not right away.

  Standing near the edge of the building, Tina concentrated her powers on the Hummer’s wheels as she murmured a spell she hadn’t attempted since high school. All those years ago she’d only succeeded in bursting the marching band’s drums. Hopefully this time... She crossed her fingers, furrowed her brows and… A loud bang reverberated through the compound followed by another and another. Success!

  Tina ducked around the corner, beaming over her accomplishment. There was no way three spare tires could be found before nightfall. Just wait until she told Stone what she’d done. She was sure he’d approve. And Gwyneth would be incredulous.

  Loud voices drew her attention.

  “This is impossible. There is no way this is an accident.” Sister Denise was not happy. That fact made Tina grin even wider.

  “Are you accusing one of my staff of vandalism?” Sister Bernita was her usual calm self.

  “Yes, I am. This didn’t happen on its own. And how am I supposed to get back to town now?”

  “I’m quite sure no one here wants you to stay,” Sister Bernita paused before continuing, “against your will, that is. Unfortunately, there is no other option this late in the day. Tomorrow morning I can send someone into town to acquire spare tires. In the meantime, you can use my quarters tonight.”

  Sister Denise didn’t answer immediately and Tina wondered if she was trying to control her temper or was angry beyond words. When she finally replied, her voice sounded tight and strained. “Fine. I’m going for a walk.”

  “Stay within the compound, please. The gate is locked at dusk.”

  Tina decided she’d better head back to the infirmary. Anna would be sending out a search party soon thinking she’d drowned in the shower or some such ridiculous thing. The girl was sweet but… Her thoughts were interrupted by someone stepping directly in her path.

  It was Sister Denise. She made no attempts at the usual greeting one might make to a stranger. “Who are you? More importantly, what are you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The nun’s effrontery had her taking half a step back.

  “I picked up a scent a few minutes ago. A confusing scent. Not quite Lycan, not quite jaguar. I followed it to you.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you have to say? I asked for an explanation.”

  Tina wasn’t sure how to reply. Something about the woman didn’t inspire the sharing of confidences.

  “You’re a witch, too, aren’t you? There’s purple in your eyes.” The nun glared at her. “You’re the one who ruined my tires.”

  It was a statement, not a question and Tina felt her cheeks growing warm. Why couldn’t she be a better liar? Maybe a half-truth would suffice? “My hexes always go wrong.”

  “You’re that incompetent?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She shrugged, thankful she hadn’t been asked who the hex was supposed to be directed at.

  A growl arose from the nun’s throat and Tina gulped. She’d heard that sound before. Sister Denise was a Lycan!

  The dinner bell rang and Tina grabbed onto it like a lifeline. “It’s almost time to eat. I have to go.” She hurried away, well aware the woman was staring at her suspiciously.

  Stone slowly broke through the drugged-induced fog that had enveloped him. The surface under him was gently rolling. The rhythmic slapping of waves sounded near his head and the cry of gulls filled the air. Right. He was on a yacht headed for some human meat factory.

  Only this was no yacht. There were no leather chairs, polished wood panels, brass fixtures or other signs of wealth. Instead, he saw peeling white paint, rust and portholes with cracked, dirty glass. Wrappers from takeout food were crumpled on a table in the corner and an empty soda can rolled back and forth with the movement of the boat. Definitely not high-class transportation.

  The cabin appeared empty, no one was guarding him, so he swung his legs over the edge of the berth and sat up. He was still bound, the ropes chafing his skin. Unfortunately, he’d have to endure it a while longer. If he broke free, Saul would know something was wrong and the whole mission would be a wash.

  At least the filthy gag was gone. It had been replaced by tape for some reason. He wiggled his mouth experimentally. Yep, it would hurt like a bitch when the tape was ripped off. There were worse things though, like the stench that surrounded him.

  Fish. His wolf wrinkled its nose.

  The smell of it permeated every inch of the cabin. If anyone was following Saul in his yacht, they’d never catch the doctor with one of the kidnapped donors. Apparently that part of the job was carried out by someone else. It made sense; hire some poor fisherman to transport people, no questions asked. The locals were desperately poor and many would be willing to turn a blind eye in exchange for cash.

  There was a porthole near the bunk and Stone craned his neck so he could see out. They were already approaching land. How long had they been travelling? He couldn’t see his watch but a clock on the wall showed the time. It was almost mid-afternoon. Given that he’d waited in the back of Dante’s jeep for quite a while, his best guess was that it was a little over an hour since he’d been loaded onto the boat.

  Stone pulled up a mental map of the area, trying to decide which ports were approximately an hour away from Cantala. The island of Santa Marietta or the neighbouring country of Mercosta were the most likely candidates. He searched the approaching coastline for something to help him verify his guess. It didn’t t
ake long. The Santa Marietta flag was waving from a flagpole. Ironic. He’d just left a private clinic on the island a few days ago, now he was returning to one. At least if he needed backup, there was a skeleton team of Lycans on the island.

  The sound of the engines changed as they slowed. Stone imagined the boat approaching the dock, the deckhand hailing someone to catch the rope that would be thrown, cutting back on the throttle… The noise of the motor ended abruptly allowing him to hear indistinct voices and rumbling sounds like a cart being pulled along a dock. He lay down again before someone came to check on him.

  Footsteps came closer. Stone closed his eyes and regulated his breathing. The door opened and, after a moment, shut followed by retreating steps. They must have decided he was still unconscious. What now? How would they smuggle his body off the boat? Wait until nightfall or brazenly do it in broad daylight, assuming no one would question what was happening?

  Two sets of footsteps now. Voices. More distinct.

  “The cart’s ready. No one’s around.”

  “Good. Let’s drag him up on deck.”

  The door opened. Someone grabbed his legs. Another person grabbed his arms.

  “Damn, he’s heavy. We should get paid extra for him.”

  A grunt was the only response.

  They weren’t being overly careful with him. Stone exercised all his self-control in order not to wince or groan as various parts of his body hit door jambs, walls and the edge of stairs.

  Soon a fresh breeze skimmed over him. The rays of the sun bathed his face.

  “We’re almost done. Are you ready?”

  They began to swing his body. Once. Twice. The third time he had the briefest sensation of flying through the air before landing hard on something solid. He cracked his eyes open to discover he was in some kind of white plastic cart. Before he could even begin to wonder why, the answer hit him in the face. Buckets of fish were being dumped on him.

  A deluge of curses sprang to his lips and he barely held them back. Next time he saw Dante he was going to kill the man, regardless of what Reno or anyone else said!

  Once he was covered in fish, the cart was rolled down a gangplank onto the dock. The sound of voices grew louder as the men pushing him chatted with passersby.

  “A good catch today?”

  “Very good. We have plenty to sell to the chefs at the resort.”

  “They like it fresh for the evening menu, don’t they?”

  “That they do.”

  Eventually, the sound of voices faded. The cart came to a stop. A door squeaked open. Metal scraped on metal. He could feel that he was being pushed up a ramp, likely into some kind of truck.

  “Make sure the cart is secure. We don’t want it rolling around back there.”

  “I’ve locked the wheels on the cart and attached bungee cords. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Good. We’re right on schedule for dumping this guy at the clinic.”

  “Ever wonder what goes on there?”

  “Nope and I don’t want to know. We get paid to make the delivery. That’s the end of it.”

  The door clanged shut blocking out the rest of the conversation. Soon the engine started and the cart began to joggle as the van made its way along the road.

  Stone shifted his position into a more comfortable one, or at least as comfortable as one could be when bound, gagged and covered in stinking fish. As soon as he was done with his part of this mission, he was taking a shower. Smelling the way he did, it wouldn’t matter that Christina wasn’t a Lycan, she’d pick up his scent a mile away.

  It seemed the clinic was only a short drive from the docks, for soon the van swayed as if turning into a driveway, the speed slowed and then they came to a halt. The doors opened, the cart was pushed down the ramp and, given how smooth the ride was, inside a building.

  “Delivery. Fresh fish for the kitchen.”

  “Sign here.” Stone speculated they were talking to a security guard. “Okay, looks like you’re expected. Kitchen is down the hall, to the left then turn right at the second set of doors.”

  “Thanks.”

  The cart started to move again. They turned left as directed but then left again rather than right. It would seem they weren’t going to the kitchen. A short distance later they turned yet again and came to a stop.

  “Perfect timing as always.” It was Saul. “Let’s get him out of there and then you can make your delivery to the kitchen.

  Stone kept himself limp as hands grabbed him and he was dragged from the cart and then set on what felt like a metal gurney. A sheet was draped over him.

  “Need anything else, Doc?”

  “That’s it for now. If I require your services again, you’ll be hearing from me.” A rustling sound followed, as if bank notes were being counted, and then Stone listened to the retreating sounds of two sets of footsteps and the faintly squeaky sound of the cart’s wheels.

  Stone lay on the gurney wondering what was going to happen next. He was tired of being treated like a sack of potatoes. Lying around doing nothing wasn’t his style and his wolf didn’t like it either. It was still muttering about the indignity of being buried under fish. A few minutes longer, or so he tried to tell himself. Dante needed as much information as possible before he made his move.

  Someone entered the room. “You buzzed for me, Doctor?”

  “Yes, we have another donor so prepare the guest rooms. With any luck, several people will be arriving for transplant vacations as soon as I get the blood work done on this fellow.”

  “I’ll get right on it. Anything else?”

  “Ensure all the paperwork is ready; a death certificate, a police report—it should say he was drunk, fell off a boat and sustained a severe head injury causing brain death. Make sure the insurance coverage for our transplant patients is in order for their aftercare once they return home. You know the procedure as well as I do.”

  “The more layers of paperwork, the easier it is to launder the organs.” The person spoke in crisp efficient tones as if they’d done this numerous times. “As soon as you’ve completed your cross-matching let me know how many surgical staff will be required and I’ll make the necessary changes to the roster.”

  “I will. Oh, and there will be a supply of children’s organs soon. Pull up the waiting list if you have time so you’re familiar with the cases.

  The person left the room.

  Stone struggled to stay still as rage grew within him. Saul had to be referring to Sister Bernita’s orphans. His inner wolf snarled and a soft sound must have escaped him.

  “Waking up, are we.” Saul spoke conversationally to what he must assume was a slowly awakening victim. “I’ll give you another shot to keep you quiet. I must have greatly underestimated your weight if you’re waking up this soon. No worries. I’ll make this dose stronger.”

  Stone dared to crack one eye open. Saul was across the room, filling a needle. No way was he going to let the bastard sedate him again.

  “This should keep you sleeping around the clock.” Saul approached. Stone readied himself. The sheet over his arm was moved. His sleeve was pulled back.

  With a muffled roar, Stone swung his fists upward knocking the doctor backwards and then, with a flex of his muscles, burst free of the ropes around his wrists. The needle flew from Saul’s hand, skittered across the floor and landed in the corner.

  Stone swung his legs off the gurney, grasped the ropes around his ankles and tore them apart then ripped the tape from his mouth. Shit, that hurt!

  Saul was on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes. “Who? What?” The man sputtered and scrambled backwards as Stone approached at a slow, menacing pace.

  “I am a Shomer Virtus and I’m going to rip you limb from limb.”

  “A what? Why? I’m a doctor.” Saul retreated even more.

  “A doctor? More like a butcher.”

  “No, no. I save lives. I help—”

  “By stealing organs?”

  “The
y are compensated. I swear!”

  “Like I was going to be?” Stone narrowed his eyes. “Be careful how you answer. I can smell a lie.”

  “No.” Saul licked his lips nervously. “A favour. You were a favour for a friend.”

  “And how many ‘favours’ have you done? How many of your ‘donors’ have died?”

  “Not many.”

  Stone growled, his wolf coming to the fore, his fangs beginning to show.

  Now we can exact justice, the beast him inside declared.

  The man’s face was white now. “Okay, more than that. I don’t know; I don’t remember, I swear. There just aren’t enough to meet the demand. My patients are willing to pay anything for a second chance.” His back was pressed against the wall now, nowhere else to go. “It started as just one lung or one kidney, maybe part of a liver.”

  “And of course all those donors are willing, well-informed, well paid and given proper medical care afterwards.”

  “Some.” Sweat beaded on Saul’s brow.

  Stone snorted. “If they survive, most don’t have access to follow-up care and couldn’t afford it if they did. Any money you might pay them, if they survive, goes for food for their families.”

  “That’s their choice.”

  “Choice? Watching your family starve, or selling part of your body, risking death or disability, shouldn’t be a choice.”

  “It’s not my fault they’re poor. I give them an opportunity. My clients are important people.”

  Stone shook his head in disgust and reached down to grab Saul by the throat. He was tired of hearing the bastard trying to reason away his sins.

  At that moment, Saul swung his arm out, the needle in his hand again. It plunged into Stone’s forearm milliseconds before he grasped the man’s wrist and bent it back.

  Saul struggled against Stone’s grip, trying to push the plunger on the syringe. Stone tightened his grip, there was a crunching sound and Saul screamed, his hand going limp.

  “My wrist, you’ve crushed it!”

  Stone yanked the needle from his arm. It still had fluid in the barrel. “I’d love to kill you but I know someone who wants to beat every bit of information from your brain first.” He jabbed the needle into Saul. “This should make you easier to handle. Have a good rest.”