Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V (7 page)

He tsked as Matthew edged toward the next
step. He had a mental image of the goon shooting him in the back.
Then he would fall face first down the steps and break his neck
like Hambly. “Now tell me, Mr. Ridley, why would you mislead me all
this time?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Kemlec.”
Yes,
Matthew thought,
let’s go about this whole murder
scene in a civilized manner.
“I was perfectly honest on my
resume.”

Kemlec smiled, cold and a bit lizard-like.
“You’re either at very good shielding or a very late bloomer. Which
is it Mr. Ridley?”

“I think it’s time for me to resign.”
Matthew had one chance. Gathering his strength, he focused his
telekinetic power and visualized grabbing the goon’s leg. He jerked
the limb forward. Goon fell backwards, huge arms wind-milling on
the crowded landing. The second goon covered his boss.

Pain and exhaustion slammed into Matthew as
he wrestled with his ability. His vision dimmed, but he hung on to
the rail, sliding and throwing his body in the direction he needed.
Dodging to the side, a dart hit the wall; he cursed himself for an
idiot. Damn Milton Hambly and his penny-pinching audit. Matthew
could be at home, watching cable TV and trying to get rid of
Grumpy.

Matthew wrestled the ground emergency exit
door open and nearly fell inside. His bottom jaw followed the
movement. Inside, Armageddon had arrived.

Colorful flyers lay scattered around the
floor. A trail of red followed the path one man, make that
body
, had made skidding across the lobby. Sightless eyes
stared into oblivion as he lay crumpled against the bottom of one
of the interactive tour stations. Crimson blood spattered the
backlit display of a happy white-coated veterinarian and his yellow
lab. Hints of things in the blood soaked ruin of the guard’s
stomach were best not investigated too closely. Matthew looked
away. His gaze snagged on the widening puddle of blood flowing from
another ragdoll of a man laying face down on the marbled
carpet.

Looking up reinforced the surreal feeling of
being in a horror movie. As if in slow motion, the werewolf
crouched on the roof of the information desk looked from the trio
of guards training tranq guns on him to Matthew. What got Matthew,
was that he
knew
the hairy creature was Brandon Weis up
there. Red and white tranq darts stuck all over walls of the
information gazebo. The darts pierced his brother-in-law’s faded
jeans, arms, and neck. A lot of darts.

The werewolf dodged gracefully between the
top BioPet signs. Weis’ hands were extra, extra large and tipped
with long wicked claws that could tear a man into ribbons. Fangs,
both upper and lower canines, filled his mouth with sharp
animalistic teeth that had no place on a human being.

The horror movie feeling returned as Matthew
slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. All in all,
he figured that less than a minute had passed. The goon in the
stairwell hit the door, forcing it open a few inches, which the
goon put to good use. He stuck his hand in it. Unwilling to let go
of the door to grapple, Matthew bit the back of the hand. The goon
yelled and jerked his hand back inside. “He
bit
me! Shit!
The bastard bit me!”

“Shut up, you fool. You can’t catch anything
from a psychic. Now get that door open,” Kemlec ordered. The door
shuddered and opened with the force of the goon’s body. Spots
floated in front of Matthew’s eyes as he found and flipped the lock
on the door. He slumped in relief.

The thud of a dart in the wall next to him
made Matthew jump. His eyes darted back to the guards harassing
Brandon. One was reloading from a bandolier slung across his
shoulders. Number two aimed for Matthew while number three kept
Brandon pinned down behind signs. Smart man, thing, er…werewolf,
Matthew corrected as he half dove and half fast-crawled behind a
scrawny potted plant.

Noting that the guns held two darts at a
time, Matthew scurried as fast as he could to the nearest downed
guard, the one smashed against the tour station. Dragging the
potted plant slowed him down, but was worth it, considering a
missile caught in the branches and fell useless to the ground.

“Go after him. He’s not a werewolf.” Ordered
the guard trained on Brandon. Matthew scrambled faster as hot
nausea ran through him. He wasn’t going to make it. If he could use
his power to grab all of the darts and aim them at the guards,
they’d be home free. He cursed himself for being too chicken-shit
to learn how to use his own abilities effectively.

The sound of something breaking and a yell
of “Watch out!” made Matthew look up. The guard shooting at the
werewolf didn’t move fast enough to dodge the big section of sign
pitched at him. Matthew narrowed his eyes on the tiny red dots
scattered over the walls. Desperate measures called for desperate
actions.

Clenching his fist, he clutched at them
mentally. More pieces of wood and plastic flew among the screams.
Matthew’s brain felt as if it were going to explode with the
nausea. He barely felt the bee sting in his shoulder before he
suffocated under an invisible weight on his chest. Darkness slid
over him like black water.

Chapter Four

Naomi woke to sirens and the flash of the
light from over the automatic double doors. Animal screams of anger
and rage echoed down the hall and into the soundproofed laboratory.
Whispers of surprise came from the handful of conscious subjects
around the lab as a gurney whisked through pushed by a blue shirted
security guard and muscle in a suit. She could recognize a high
paid bodyguard any day. They looked exactly what they were. Faust
Kemlec and another bodyguard followed on their heels.

The CEO looked ecstatic; he glanced proudly
behind him as two more guards used a motorized cart to haul in a
pissed off wolven contained in a silver cage. Casters allowed the
cage to roll without the guards actually getting close enough to
get their heads or limbs ripped from their bodies. The occupant was
certainly willing to do the deed.

In human form, the dark haired man howled
and threw himself against the silver bars in a manic fury. When
that didn’t garner his freedom, he backed up a step, and repeated
the gesture. At least his clothing afforded him some protection
from the silver. The cage rattled and groaned with the effort, the
bars were bent slightly, stressed from the wolven’s battering.

Kemlec practically beamed at Dr. Drake.
“Good! You’re in early.” What Kemlec didn’t know was that Drake had
stayed to try and convince Nathan, her, and Morrow the tiger to
leave. The assortment of vials that Drake wanted to take with him
sat on his desk in a small, portable tray. The entirety of her
people’s DNA, ready to grab and go. It was insulting.

With smooth practice, moved the vials back
to the small refrigerator. Drake straightened as he changed his
gloves, folding one in over the other as he pulled the second one
off. It was one of those moves that confirmed his familiarity with
the medical environment. Kemlec’s triumph soured as he glanced at
the cages. “I thought I told you to get rid of the cats.”

“I will when I’m done with them,” replied
Drake without looking at his boss. His attention was all for the
gurney. Frowning, he placed a hand on the man’s chest. The man
looked like someone—she glanced at the bodyguards rumpled suits—had
beat the living daylights out of their prisoner before bringing him
down. “What is this? This man is not a supernatural.” Drake’s
gently touched the ripped, bloody tatters of the prisoner’s
shirt.

“Oh, that.” Kemlec’s attention had turned to
the cage. He waved a hand at Drake. “Downsizing one of my
department heads. He knows too much. He got hit with one of the
werewolf tranqs and had to have his heart restarted.” With delight,
Kemlec watched the wolven’s attempts to break free. The guard
unhooked the cart and left as fast as possible without saying a
word. Naomi clutched the blanket in sympathy as the wolven took a
swipe at the CEO before worrying at the bars with his hands. The
bodyguards hovered on each side, but his interest was centered on
Faust Kemlec like everyone else’s. “Just shoot him up with some
werewolf saliva and you’ll have your second specimen.”

“I will have to wait for him to recover
enough to handle that kind of trauma.”

“You’re always stalling.” Kemlec moved away
from taunting the wolven to point a finger at Drake. A couple of
other arriving scientists stopped to gawk at the scene. “I want my
werewolf flu perfected.”

“And you will have it soon. That does not
change the fact that the subject needs to not be near death before
I administer the dose.” The scent of the lie wafted into Naomi’s
cage. It was his first real slip-up. The scientist was good. None
of the psychics had the ability to tell lie from truth, or someone
would have called him on it.

“What about the cats?” Kemlec looked a bit
suspicious, but seemed to be willing to be wavering. “Won’t they be
a distraction?”

With that question, Drake regained control.
He walked away to his desk to gather up his all-important
clipboard. “Mr. Kemlec. Are
you
questioning
my
abilities?” He sounded supremely offended.

“No. Of course not, doctor.” Kemlec was
quick to reassure his suddenly prima donna scientist. He patted the
air with his hands. “It was just a question. Perhaps, I’ll just
leave you to it?”

“Yes. Do that,” answered Dr. Drake glowering
through his glasses over the edge of the clipboard.

“No!” a late arriving scientist hurried in
waving his hands. Sanderson, in all his pudgy balding glory, cut
off Kemlec’s escape. “No, no, no. You said
I
would get the
next ones. Me.” He pointed at the still angry wolven in the cage.
“I’ve worked hard for new subjects. I’ve put in requisition after
requisition. I have nothing. And the new guy gets them? That’s not
fair!”

Kemlec stared him down, dismissing the
scientist as if he were nothing. A irritating fly. Sticking his
hands in his pockets, he pulled his cell phone out of one and
placed it against his ear. The other hand jingled change. Dialing
out, he gave the wolven a last look before strolling out of the
room. “Marie. Cancel any tours for the month. Maintenance has to do
a little remodeling in the lobby. Oh, yes. Set up some interviews
and classes for night guardsmen. We have three openings. We should
probably post internally first for the manager position, but I
really would like another psychic hired…”

Chapter Five

As the day wore on, it was obvious to Naomi
that Drake was staying as far away from the angry wolven as
possible. She would have thought that he would want to help settle
his fellow wolf. Instead, he busied himself with an IV for the
unconscious psychic on the gurney while he let the prisoner bang at
the cage until the poor creature was worn out. Occasionally he
growled low; the sound vibrated in the air.

Her temples throbbed as she tried to process
everything she’d learned. Would Drake go so far with his role as to
actually turn the psychic? Because of the close confines on the
work area he ended up pushing the gurney closer to the cages, right
in front of her door. Naomi got her first clear look at the injured
man.

Shock hit her with the impact of a truck.
She crept forward until she had a clear view. Unlike a lot of
psychics, the unconscious man wasn’t a physical weakling. He looked
like he worked out, but was still very lean. This close she could
see that underneath the bruises and the oxygen mask Drake had
affixed, he was a pleasant blend of strong, yet ordinary masculine
features. His neatly trimmed dark hair was thick and mussed,
inviting her fingers to smooth the locks into place. She knew if he
opened his eyes and looked at her, they would be dark and
serious.

The only thing keeping the overwhelming
sense of déjà vu from sweeping her away in her dream memories was
hum of his psychic gift charging the air. The particular aroma of
psychic was cloying, drawing the attention of every supernatural in
the room. The scent was almost enough to mask the underlying stench
of drugs keeping him inert.

Her lioness sat up and took notice. The
birthmark on Naomi’s breast heated. God, she wanted him. The cat
inside her purred possessively, pressing her closer to the silver
bars. Naomi jerked back, hissing at the burn and the stench of
singed flesh. She shook her head, incredulous. They were good;
she’d give them—all of them, that. She’d almost fallen for the
insanity.

Naomi had to get her head screwed on
straight. Dreams did not come true, despite what Nathan believed.
The unfortunate soul on the gurney was not the cats’ version of
‘The Once and Future King’. Reincarnation was a religious fantasy.
Besides, even if her dreams were true, there was no way for a
psychic to become a cat. Her people, like most Were groups, lost
the ability to transfer their nature through a bite around the same
time as the last Leo died.

Time dragged by while she wrestled the
irrational desire to touch him. Naomi took inventory of the lab.
With no clock visible, she could only guess by the clear shields
over the front of the cage cells on the opposite side of the lab,
that it was the afternoon break. Once again, Drake had ‘forgotten’
to lock them down before leaving them alone in the lab. She
supposed not taking any personal time away at all could be
considered suspicious behavior. Or not, considering Kemlec’s demand
to finish the super virus to kill off all of the supernaturals.
Naomi slumped down on the floor, resting her chin on her knees. Now
that she was thinking clearly, she was
over
thinking. One
could hardly expect a civilized human scientist to use the minimum
toilet facilities in the vacant cages.

In the portable cage, the wolven still
occasionally threw himself against the bars. He’d managed to roll
the portable cage almost out of her line of vision, against the
cleanup sink, now minus one faucet, which no one else seemed to
care that he’d wrenched free. The smell of blistered flesh lingered
in the air.