Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V (6 page)

The woman’s voice on the other end was crisp
and professional, and clear as a bell with the advantage of
supernatural hearing. “Sorry to bother you sir, but the accountant
that came to our attention yesterday has made progress in
uncovering the various accounts used to fund project Achilles.”

Kemlec’s beady eyes squinted. With his heavy
jowls, he looked like a TV mob boss getting ready to order a hit.
“Yeah? How much progress?”

“I believe he just left the underground lab
levels, sir.” The assistant replied.

“Well, hell.” Kemlec paused, moving the
phone to his chest. “From auditing to snooping in seventy-two
hours. That is progress. Damn, I hate killing good accountants.” He
stared hard at Dr. Drake, making good on that mob boss analogy in
Naomi’s head. “Remember what I said,
Doctor
Drake. I want a
way to kill off the werewolves by the end of the week. Then see how
to replicate it for the other species.”

“The feline studies are close to completion,
sir.” The huge scientist’s
sir
seemed forced. His unaffected
attitude cracked just a bit as his fingers flexed against the
clipboard. “I have been reviewing Dr. Corban’s research. Not all of
his notes were entered into the computer.”

Kemlec cut a hand through the air. “No.
Corban was useless. I don’t care why cats can interbreed and get
purebred litters. I don’t care why they can’t infect us. That’s a
bonus in my book. If they can contract the Achilles virus, they
will die just fine.” Putting the phone back to his ear, he turned
to leave the laboratory. “Get rid of the cats, Drake, and
commission some werewolves. I want results.”

The doors swished open as Kemlec returned to
his phone conversation. “Marie? About that accountant. Is he human
or psychic?” Naomi didn’t need to hear Marie’s answer. Kemlec
huffed a put out sigh. “Damn, woman. Lay off hiring the humans. How
am I supposed to get werewolves for the lab if you keep hiring
nulls?”

* * * *

Dr. Drake watched the doors close behind
Kemlec. Turning, he made his way back to his station and carefully
set his clipboard down on his desk. Even now, at night in an
emergency meeting with his boss, he wore latex gloves and a lab
coat. Naomi wondered if the scientist was phobic or just using good
sense in the workplace. Without hurrying, he bent to open the small
refrigeration unit that held his vast collection of samples.

“Nice disguise doc.” The difference in
Nathan’s voice almost made Naomi wonder if someone else was awake.
Sarcasm replaced the deference he’d given her and Morrow. “I almost
didn’t recognize you in the new getup. Though I’ve got to admit,
the glasses add a nice touch. Very Clark Kent.”

Dr. Drake straightened, his dark impassive
gaze taking in the bay of cells he was responsible for. Naomi could
almost see a smile ghost at the corners of the scientist’s mouth
before he moved out of sight. The clank of the cage opening slapped
her as hard as Nathan’s obvious defection. “Nathan. How do you
feel?”

“I’ve felt worse,” the panther told him.
“Thanks, but we’re not leaving. You’ve got the same look in your
eyes that your real boss gets when he’s about lock down the home
front and send out the troops.”

“I’ll go if you’re offering.” Morrow
said.

“No,” Nathan insisted. “It’s not time. We’re
waiting.”

“Oh, what now?” Naomi abandoned her spot at
the back of her cage. She pressed as close to the bars as she
could, without touching the vicious silver. She wanted to taste
freedom again. “You run with the psychics too?”

“Nathan, if I do not remove you and the
others in my care immediately, then Faust Kemlec will kill you
himself. He is not only a brilliant businessman, but an extremely
prejudiced supernatural-phobe.”

“Supernatural-phobe?” Nathan laughed. “I
know you talk in gibberish most of the time, Doc. But you’re making
this up as you go along, right?”

“You do not want to stay for Kemlec’s big
unveiling.” Now it was Dr. Drake’s turn to lower his voice. The
perfectly reasonable, logical turn took on a darker urgent quality.
“You heard him. He desires a virus that will infect every
supernatural, ultimately killing off anything with any magical
ability. Go
home
, Nathan. Take them with you.”

“I take it that Kemlec isn’t lumping himself
into that group.” Naomi ventured. She could see the ramifications
of a virus like that. Many psychics had such minor abilities that
they were considered human, but they weren’t. They used small
magics without realizing it. How many humans had a bit of untapped
fairy or other supernatural blood running through their veins?

“No. He is not,” Dr. Drake answered her, but
his attention apparently stayed with the werepanther. “Nathan, I
never intended for the cats to stay past their recovery.”

“Where did you plan to send them, doc?” he
taunted. “Palestine? Think the wolven will allow everyone to hang
out at their place? Or has the local fairy lord opened a
supernatural animal sanctuary?”

“I…” Drake faltered. “Packhome is the only
safe place. The wolven Pack is fairly lenient in that regard.”

Nathan snorted. “Haven’t you heard? Packhome
is gone, wolf. Geesh, you people need to watch the news. The church
burned it down to the ground.” He waited while the revelation sunk
in. “Those of us who helped evict the Church of the Clean from your
territory didn’t get any special treatment. We got drafted into
your damned Pack, then the alpha told us we weren’t good enough to
hang with them. Don’t get me wrong, some like the protection that
living on the fringes of your Pack’s territory gives. But that’s
not acceptance. It’s barely tolerance.”

“Nope.” The panther paused, his tone hard.
“I am needed
here
, and by whatever you hold holy, I am
staying here until I do what has to be done.” Nathan’s words
brought a flash of Naomi’s dream back. Her all-powerful dream man
curled up on himself in horrible pain while she was helpless to do
anything for him. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to
make sense of the situation. What was the truth?

Dr. Drake stepped back. Naomi could see the
wolf in the scientist’s eyes now, though his scent still lied. His
dark skin took on an ashen quality, obviously taking an emotional
hit from the panther’s revelations. “Fine. Stay.” He clipped his
words as he moved to open his station, taking out the trays and
setting them on the counter. From her place in her cell, she
watched him sort through his cabinets. “I have transportation for
the lioness and the tiger waiting.”

“I’m staying,” Naomi said,
feeling,
the need to stick close. Cats stuck together, though Nathan sounded
a bit touched in the head. Cats running with the wolves. Delusional
panthers following Bastet. Good grief, what next? She hoped she
wasn’t sorry about passing up this chance to escape. “I’ll leave
when Nathan leaves.”

“Me too,” growled Morrow.

Chapter Three

With a last glance inside the room and down
the hallway for hidden monsters, Matthew stepped into the room. He
walked around the desk, half expecting to find the accountant laid
out on the floor from a heart attack. Reports and scribbled sticky
notes littered the floor. Milton Hambly was a neat freak.
Uneasiness crawled up his back. Matthew hoped he wasn’t looking at
a crime scene.

Completing his circuit around the desk, he
considered the perfectly spaced filing cabinets, filing up the
entire wall. Almost two inches separated each of the six cabinets.
Hambly’s degrees displayed above the filing cabinets. Educational
penis envy ran rampant at BioPet.

Bending down, Matthew studied the bit of
blue that caught his eye behind the filing cabinets. Squinting, he
decided that the roll looked a lot like blueprints. But with the
files spaced so close, he’d never reach them. Matthew glanced
around to find anything long enough that he could slide the tube of
paper upward with. Finding nothing off hand, he shoved the books
aside and attempted to wrestle the cabinet. He frowned when the
thing wouldn’t budge. What was locked inside? Bricks?

After one more glance at the blueprint,
Matthew sighed. He wanted them. They could be nothing. Or they
could be something pretty important. The ‘feeling’ that had been
bothering him all night screamed the latter, and was getting
louder. Crouching back down, he let out a breath. Slipping a hand
between the cabinets, he let the cool metal seep into his palm. He
could do this. Using his ability did not make him a freak.

One more breath exercise and Matthew felt
his worry fall away. He focused on the bit of blue paper, imagining
his fingers on the outside. His eyelids dropped halfway. He didn’t
feel the slide of sweat as he consciously focused his telekinetic
power. The blueprint shifted, then crept upward in tiny jerks.

Matthew rose, sliding his hand upward along
the cool cabinet. This shouldn’t be hard; he moved things
unintentionally all the time while welding. In his mind, he held
the blueprint between two fingers, slowly drawing it upward. Up and
over the top of the cabinet. Then the long tube brushed his shaking
fingers and he clutched it. Part of him felt powerful. Triumphant.
He felt like the caveman that invented fire.
Rah!

Matthew pushed the elation aside. Instead of
embracing the surge of power inside him, he struggled to put it
back inside the box that kept it contained. On the outside, he
unrolled the blueprints on top of the mess on the desk.

He could read them well enough, having taken
some formal drafting courses back in his college days. It had been
his way of flirting with the idea of making everything up to his
mother. Her husband, Adam Weis, was a respected builder. Matthew
had thought he could have it both ways until his father informed
him differently. It was either Richard or Diana. At the time,
Matthew picked college. God, he’d been stupid.

The energy still moved inside him, unwilling
to be shut away. The power wouldn’t settle, making him more edgy as
his senses picked up on pockets of supernatural energy in the
vicinity. As Matthew glanced over the building specs, he became
aware of several things at once.

One, why would anyone use that much silver
plating? Some of it wasn’t even designed to see the light of day.
You don’t reinforce with silver. Steel, yes. There were two more
labs in the below levels, both with a lot of silver in the design.
He shuffled the prints, peering closer at detailed drawings of
holding areas,
cages
, and notes about the security
system…which all happened to be where the majority of the
supernatural energy was registering. He closed his eyes, briefly
focused on a bright spot of energy below, not as far as the lower
levels…in the
lobby.

More uneasiness slithered along his spine as
he rolled the blueprints back up. His subconscious finally spit out
what was bothering him.
Blueprints. Silver
.
Palestine.
The gate guard. Werewolves.

Fuck!
The connection slid into place.
It was a big leap of intuition, far-fetched maybe, but Matthew was
openly looking for another job when the vampires outed everyone.
Then, suddenly he got a promotion and a decent raise? He had a bad
feeling about how his brother-in-law fell into this mix. God,
Matthew felt used.

He turned and darted for the elevator. He
punched the elevator button three times before yanking out his cell
phone. Scrolling down through the received numbers, he found the
listing he’d lifted from the phone book a while back.

“Hello?’ A child’s voice answered only to be
replaced by a grown man’s.

“Yeah. I need Brandon Weis’ number.” Matthew
only prayed that he didn’t get hung up on.

“Who is this?” The man on the other end
sounded suspicious.

“Uh.” The damn elevator door seemed to be
going through every floor. To hell with it. Matthew ran for the
stairs. “My name is Matthew. Do you have the number?”

“Hey, Bradley! Some guy named Matt is
wanting Brandon’s number. Should I give it? Sounds like a weirdo.
Lotta heavy breathing.” He’d never let anyone call him Matt a day
in his life. He hit the door at a dead run. Please God let his
brother-in-law be okay.

“No.” The other voice yelled back.

Now what, Brainiac? Jesus!
He could
not catch a break here. “Fine.” Matthew grunted, pounding down the
fifth flight of stairs. One more flight left. “Can you call him — ”
Matthew rounded the corner and came feet to feet with a body
stretched across the landing. “Uhhh!” sliding down, he threw his
hands out for balance and landed on top.

It was Hambly. A very dead Hambly. Worse,
he’d just touched the body. Trying to overcome the squeamish
impulse to wipe his hands and yelp, he scrambled away. He had no
idea where his cell phone had gone. Probably, long gone down the
steps in tiny pieces. The blueprints were wedged in Hambly’s
armpit.

The landing door opened, admitting a
well-dressed BioPet executive. “Mr. Ridley. So good of you to drop
by.” Matthew paused, like a mouse trapped in a snake’s hypnotic
spell. Two goons with military buzz cuts slid in behind him. Huge
no-necked muscle-bound goons. They stared at him, anticipation
lighting their eyes. One of them actually cracked his knuckles and
snarled. Great, he was about to be killed by wrestler
wanna-bees.

“Mr. Kemlec.” Matthew looked at Hambly then
at the CEO of BioPet, Faust Kemlec. The executive didn’t give the
body an eyelash flicker.
Well then, it was good to know who
offed Hambly.
Matthew swallowed. He had only one short run of
steps down to the ground floor exit.

“Don’t try it Mr. Ridley. This will be so
much easier if you surrender.” A goon stepped to the side with a
weird hand gun. It looked a hell of a lot like the XLM Big Game
Tranq—Matthew recognized it from the product roll out last month.
The specs said that the XLM darts could take down an elephant in
less than two minutes. Kemlec smiled. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dream of
using another business’s product when we have plenty of our own to
spare. I’m sure you saw the XLM’s introduction seminar; attendance
was
mandatory. Just imagine it designed for creatures with a
supernatural metabolism.”