by Sarah Noffke
Zephyr’s face was mushed into the couch, drool spilling out of it, when he finally was able to move his fingers a bit. And calling the thing he lay on a couch was a stretch. It had been a couch at one point, but now it was stained and ripped in too many places and was more closely related to junk. Zephyr had found it on the curb, thrown out and waiting for garbage day.
The discharged Special Forces captain couldn’t go back to his old life because he didn’t want anyone to know he was alive. His friends and family couldn’t know him while he had the wolf inside of him. And so he refused to use any of his old bank accounts, and the job working security provided a measly salary for someone starting over. The only thing he was grateful for was that his military experience had told him where to go to gain a fake identity. Now he was Bob Roberts. He laughed into the sofa at the name choice. Zephyr had always wanted to have a normal name, one that people could pronounce right away and spell easily. His parents, though, thought that normal names were overrated and the way to stick out was to have a bold name.
Sticking out had never been a problem for Zephyr, who graduated at the top of his class and went on to ace Special Forces training. He’d made captain in record time. And most people didn’t know because of his rank and hair whether he was young or old. His long face was smooth and absent of wrinkles. However, his hazel gray eyes seemed too old on his face. And to further confuse things, his black hair had prematurely started turning silver at age twenty. Now at twenty-five, silver streaks weaved through his wild black hair that stood in waves almost two inches tall on his head.
With a force that almost took the wind out of him he pushed up to a sitting position, his head woozy from the drug. He thought he was safe taking the drug a couple hours before work. Zephyr was wrong, though, and the effects were still making it difficult for him to move his limbs and he had to be at work in half an hour. It had been a long time since he moved without the super agility and speed that accompanied the resident’s presence inside of him. The wolf made his reflexes quick, his speed unbelievable, and his endurance unmatched. Still, even with the drug weighing him down, he was able to lumber to the front door and pull it open.
Outside, the sky in Phoenix was covered in mounds of rain clouds, which only made his shoulders sink further. Now he’d have to stagger to work in the rain. Although Zephyr had not returned to his old life, he had returned to his old city. It was the only thing that brought him comfort, which he needed since he was sinking deeper into a depression. That just meant that he’d need to steal antidepressants while at work that day. And he didn’t worry about running into his old friends and family, although he was in his old city. They would never happen through the rundown neighborhood where he lived and worked.
On Zephyr’s next step his leg muscles gave way and he had to steady himself on the doorframe to stay standing. Damn it, why couldn’t a haboob hit Phoenix right now, preventing him from being able to go to work? When these major dust catastrophes happened, caused by strange wind patterns hitting a storm, the upsurge of dust made it impossible to travel and staying inside was crucial.
Drawing in a steadying breath, Zephyr chanced another step, which brought him stumbling forward. He just caught the column at the front of his porch, which was covered in peeling paint. Damn it to hell. On his next breath he was accosted by the dust he inhaled suddenly, which coated his throat making him sputter out a cough. When he looked up, away from the hand now covering his mouth, he almost fell back—not from the drugs, but from the sight in front of him. The cloudy skies of Phoenix were now also draped with a mountain of brown dust. It was a wall of dirt and resembled smoke with its billowing shape. And it was headed straight for Zephyr’s neighborhood. But the strangest part was that it had appeared out of nowhere. A wind had seemingly been born from the still air and charged at the approaching storm to create this haboob. What were the odds that he’d wish for this windstorm and then it would magically materialize? Zephyr, wondering if the drug was making him hallucinate now, headed for his door, intent on occupying his rundown couch.
Chapter Eight
“Our efforts are founded in the efficiency of strategy, superior capabilities of technology, and most importantly in our individual unique abilities.”
- Lucidite Employee Manual
Kaleb Magner accepted the steaming bowl of mystery soup from the lady wearing a hairnet. She smiled at him, her face sympathetic.
“Come back for seconds if you’re still hungry, honey,” the woman said, her tone sincerely kind.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice low. He’d be back, probably for thirds. The soup kitchen that fed homeless rarely served meat. Usually it was just beans and vegetables in the soup. And although it muffled the physical hunger pangs, it never put the beast inside him to rest. Nothing really did. He had flesh before, but only the one time did he regret it. Now he ran deep into the forest two days before the change to ensure he was far from civilization by the time the wolf took over.
Usually Kaleb awoke the next morning with various animal bones scattered around him. He didn’t need the remnants of the dead animals to know what he’d done while a werewolf. The young guy always remembered. He used to think, from watching the movies about these creatures, that they had no memory of what happened when changed. That wasn’t the case for Kaleb. Although he wasn’t in control while a werewolf, he was still conscious, like he was watching from a dream.
And then there were the actual dreams. They had started while in the lab, but now they were stronger. It was his only escape, and yet they felt so much like a sincere reality. He’d just close his eyes and anywhere he intended to go, anyone he wished to see, he would. It was a full landscape, set up exactly as he remembered. And the people were as he remembered, although they never responded to him or acknowledged his presence. The best part was that unlike most dreams, he was conscious, making choices, not just witnessing a strange movie in his head.
Kaleb held the paper bowl in the palm of his hand and started for his usual table. It was in a dark back corner, away from the homeless men and women who knew each other well and congregated at the soup kitchen every afternoon. Sometimes the faces changed, but usually it was the same menagerie of wrinkled faces and tattered jackets.
A group of guys about his age always threw their chin up to him as if in salute when he walked by where they sat, but he never returned the gesture. There was a pure sense of respect for one another in the soup kitchen that he appreciated. It was one of the rules, set by the church that funded the organization. It was similar to one of the humanitarian efforts his mother had set up through her church on the other side of town. Kaleb’s entire family served Thanksgiving dinner there every year. They probably still did. He wasn’t going to ever find that out though.
The eighteen-year-old high school dropout didn’t know why he’d come back to his hometown of Salt Lake City after escaping from the labs. However, there was this unyielding desire to be close to his family. They were his pack, his first pack, anyway. He’d actually tried to stay with many of the men when they escaped the lab, but for as fast as he was, he couldn’t keep up with the other men. Maybe the lab hadn’t made him as strong as the other werewolves. Or maybe it was because he was shorter than the other men at only five foot eight inches. When he lost the pack and then also their scent, he hitchhiked his way up the coast and then to Salt Lake City.
For a full minute he stared at the soup in front of him, remembering when he was only a human and disliked soup. However, his parents always encouraged that he start with soup after the regular fastings. Maybe that’s the reason he didn’t like it so much. Ever since he’d left his family behind to backpack across the country, he’d revolted against much of his Mormon upbringing. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean that he didn’t now miss the people who had raised him, or his three sisters who were a part of his oldest memories. Kaleb pulled his gray hoodie over his dirty blond hair, which flipped out at the ends around his ears and forehead. No matter what, he cou
ldn’t go back. There was no family reunion for him. Not now that he was a monster.
Chapter Nine
“The horrible problems within beasts can be better studied within humans.”
- Olento Research Employee Manual
“Hey, Freckles,” Rox said, popping in to the conference room and slamming the werewolf case files down on the table.
“You value your life very little, don’t you?” Adelaide said, repeating the words her father often said to her when she provoked him. They had a cute little banter they often did that made people around them think they had a dysfunctional relationship. In truth, Adelaide’s relationship with Ren Lewis was the only one that had ever been wholesome. Her mum, a Middling, had been afraid of her from an early age because of her gifts. And since Adelaide hadn’t understood her gifts until she tracked down her father at age nineteen, she’d scared most people by unknowingly controlling them with her mind or stealing their thoughts when she touched them. And the strange dreams that seemed to follow her every wish and desire had confused her. They had started around puberty and it haunted the girl that anywhere she chose to go in her dreams, she’d find herself there. However, the people, in what she later learned was the dreamscape, never saw her. The rules for Dream Travelers and what they could do were so complex. It was after many years of trouble, heartache, and lawbreaking that Adelaide found her father, and suddenly everything made sense to her. He made sense to her.
Rox smiled at Adelaide, a pure disingenuous grin that she had practiced too often. “So I think I’ve cracked this case,” she said, tapping the file with her hot pink fingernail.
Adelaide corralled the flare of anger. Rox had to be lying. She shoved her father’s book to the side and reached for the file, but Rox pulled it closer to her, out of Adelaide’s reach.
“You know, lying may have gotten you into the FBI, but it’s not going to work here at the Lucidite Institute. Everyone here actually has real talent,” Adelaide said, studying the massive amount of eye shadow the other girl was wearing. She must have to get up at dawn to cake that much makeup on.
“Why do you think I’d lie about this?” Rox said, and her smile dropping into a look of offense. However, Adelaide spied the sudden lack of confidence. She had been right. Rox was lying.
“I’m a fucking human lie detector,” Adelaide said, and she wasn’t fibbing. Her father had taught her how to study microexpressions in people. It was how she was able to read people and manipulate them so easily, if necessary.
Rox released a sigh, her embarrassment only slightly showing for someone with keen eyes to spy. “Okay, maybe I exaggerated and I haven’t cracked the case, but I’ve got a good idea of where to start,” she said.
“With you quitting and removing your toxic-perfumed self out of the Institute?” Adelaide said, sincerely hoping that Rox didn’t really have a plan.
“No, we need to catch the werewolves,” Rox said.
“Well, no shit, Lip Gloss,” Adelaide said, relieved that Rox appeared to have no new strategy that she hadn’t thought of.
“And I know how to catch these little puppies,” Rox said, pulling the file snug to her tight pink cashmere blouse.
Adelaide pushed her ego out of the way. She needed to complete this case. Not just because people were going to get hurt, but for her father. He’d trusted her with it. He’d believed in her. “Fine, I’m listening,” she said.
“There are twelve wolves we need to catch and although we could hunt around the cities where we know some of the werewolves have been spotted, I think that’s an inefficient strategy,” Rox said.
“I’ve already come to that assumption,” Adelaide said through a fake yawn. She just hadn’t replaced the idea with a better one yet. That had been the problem.
“Right. So I’m pretty sure after studying wolves and their habits and tendencies I know how we catch all of them,” Rox said, and now she sounded confident.
“You are absolutely boring me to bloody death with this lead-up. Get to the point,” Adelaide said.
“To catch the pack, all we need to do is find the alpha wolf,” Rox said, leaning back in her chair, looking smug.
“Zephyr Flournoy,” Adelaide said, inclining forward now, pulling her father’s book to her for comfort. Rox’s approach was actually good and sadly, Adelaide had to admit it to herself. Of course, they had to start with the alpha wolf, but she’d considered he’d be the hardest to catch so hadn’t thought to go after him first. She’d actually thought that going after the runt, Kaleb Magner, was the best approach.
Rox arched a dark brown eyebrow at Adelaide; it was ten shades darker than her bright blonde hair. “So I see you’ve thoroughly studied the file if you’ve pinpointed Captain Flournoy as the alpha wolf,” she said.
“I’m kind of a fucking genius,” Adelaide said. “And yes, he was the highest-ranking professional of any of the men, but also has all the attributes that one would find in an alpha male. He has a clean record, shows persistence, was well respected by his men, and was described as stubborn, generous, and humble. Furthermore, he’s reserved and calculated, which makes him the right fit to lead men. Not your testosterone-driven military, often falsely associated with Special Forces. He’s the stoic leader.”
It had been Adelaide’s job to interview the family and friends of the twelve men, which was how she’d been able to determine the pack order.
“Yes, your notes and research were thorough enough that I was able to determine who the alpha was,” Rox said, her words nice, but her tone flat.
Adelaide only glared at the girl in response.
“So don’t you want to know how I think we can catch Zephyr?” Rox said.
“No, I’d like to remain in the fucking dark,” Adelaide said, extending a hand to the girl, snapping her fingers. But she didn’t really want the file. However, Rox complied and handed the folder over to Adelaide, her fingers brushing hers as she did.
As their hands touched Adelaide read the top thoughts sitting in Rox’s head. She then casually flipped the file open and pretended to study it. “Honestly, I think that your idea, whatever it is, will be a horrid one,” Adelaide said, pulling her chin up to regard Rox with a contemptuous glare. “I say we go to his hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, and stakeout in front of his family’s house. He was described as being ‘incredibly close to his parents’ and a man like that wouldn’t be able to keep himself away from them. He’s bound to return into their lives in some degree.”
Rox narrowed her blue eyes at Adelaide. “How strange. That’s almost verbatim what I was going to say,” she said.
“That’s what you’re saying after the fact. Don’t try and steal my awesome idea,” Adelaide said, feeling victorious. She’d always have the upper advantage on Rox as long as the other girl didn’t know she had telepathy linked to touch. And she had to admit that yet again, Rox’s idea of how to catch the alpha wolf was a good one.
“Whatever. Let’s plan to travel to Phoenix first thing in the morning,” Rox said, rising from her seat. “Right now I have things to do.”
“Yeah, it must be hard for you to juggle this job with hooking. Show those blokes a good time,” Adelaide called to Rox’s back as she trotted from the room.
Chapter Ten
“The Strategic Department serves the Lucidite Institute by creating solutions as a result of thinking from the end.”
- Lucidite Employee Manual
They were his property and he was going to get them back.
Mika Lenna drummed his fingers on his desk, his eyes resting on the ivory statue of a werewolf. It stood eighteen inches high and depicted the creature with his arms flexed in front of him, canines bared.
How dare Drake think that the Lucidites would be a problem, get in the way of him catching his werewolves. These men were the construction and now property of Olento Research. It still baffled Mika that the wolves were able to escape. They hadn’t demonstrated special Dream Travel abilities, but one of them had obviously in
herited a gift of super strength. It was Rio’s cell that had the wall battered. He knew the assault came from that cell based on forensics.
Project Canis Lupus had gone better than anyone could have expected. The men had all successfully been converted from Middlings to Dream Travelers, a key step that Mika learned the hard way with the first two trials. First he tried to experiment with turning Middlings to werewolves. They were the more ordinary race with a less complicated DNA structure. Their inability to use their consciousness to go anywhere during sleep and their lack of a psychic power was supposed to make them more moldable, unlike Dream Travelers. However, in the first experiment all the Middling men turned feral immediately. Then he tried to turn Dream Travelers to werewolves, but their DNA rejected the wolf genes immediately. So with Project Canis Lupus Mika abducted men who weren’t settled down and who he thought would have the right background and tendencies toward following unorthodox orders. They also shared the right physical and mental make-up, which was key for the experiment. Same blood type, health history, and high IQ scores. He had the science department follow the process through using CRISPR technology to splice wolf DNA in their genes. However, once that took, but before they turned feral, he had them converted to the race of Dream Traveler, which had proved to be the hardest part since it involved compliance. He had to sedate the men and use subliminal cues to get them to retrain their brain chemistry during biofeedback sessions. But the largest part of the process of Dream Traveler conversion involved activating the parietal lobe through drugs. He’d learned all this helpful information when he had Drake infiltrate the Lucidite Institute and steal their research. And now Drake seemed partial to this awful society of Dream Travelers. That would be a problem if it persisted.