| |
Matthews sat in the chair while Mordia removed the bandages from his face.
“I still think you should wait until tomorrow to have these removed,” she said.
“No,” he replied. “There’s too much I need to do. The bandages make people shy away from me. I need to find volunteers tonight. Walking around like the mummy isn’t a good first impression, now is it?”
“I suppose not. But volunteers? So soon?” Mordia carefully peeled away the lubricated cotton mask around his eyes. “What’s the hurry?”
Matthews smiled and winced. “Don’t worry about the details. I have an agenda to keep. My focus is on achieving it sooner than later.”
“You mind filling me in?”
“It’s a need-to-know basis, and at the moment, you don’t need to know.”
“I thought we are partners.”
“We are. Once these test subjects prove the serum is marketable, you’ll be the forerunner.”
Mordia frowned. “What do you mean? Forerunner?”
“Back to business for you. Not as a plastic surgeon, but a longevity expert. When word spreads about the miracles you can do, the media will get a hold of the story, and investors will be begging to cut into the market share. That’s when the money starts rolling in.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand?”
She shook her head. “No, I mean why would you want me as the person people see. Don’t you want the fame for your technology?”
“I wish to remain in the background for now. Besides you have a beautiful face and an exquisite smile. Much better than my own. Men and women will be drawn to you.”
Mordia blushed. “You flatter me, but you don’t need me. You changed your name when you came to me. Assume a new identity and accept the recognition for yourself.”
“Not interested in that right now. I have other people to tend to first.”
She frowned and gently lifted another corner of the mask. “Who?”
Someone knocked on the door.
“How close are you to having these bandages off my face?”
“Almost done.”
“Good. You mind getting that?” he asked.
“He’s already here?”
“Few people ever keep me waiting.”
Mordia set the loose bandage aside and went to the door. She opened it and a tall man stood before her with a leather laptop satchel slung over his shoulder. He was lean with a youthful face and blonde hair. She guessed he was about twenty years old.
“Am I at the right place?” he asked. “Is Steven Matthews here?”
“Yes,” Mordia replied. “Come in. He’s expecting you.”
Nervously, he stepped across the threshold. He lowered the satchel from his shoulder. “Where should I set this up?” he asked.
“Use this table, Jimmy.” Matthews pointed.
Jimmy stared questionably at Matthews and studied his face where the bandages had been removed. “Is that really you?”
Matthews nodded. “You like the disguise?”
Jimmy shrugged and set his satchel on the table and unzipped it. He removed his computer with shaking hands. “I remember you said that you’d be out of prison early. But—”
“You didn’t expect it so soon?” Matthews asked.
“No, sir.”
Matthews laughed. “I doubt anyone expected my freedom so early.”
“I can’t believe you’d have plastic surgery done.”
“Life is full of unexpected changes, Jimmy. Besides too many people want me dead or think I owe them something. A new look often changes one’s perspective, much like an ugly caterpillar can spend the remainder of its life flying with spectacular wings. Scientists call it metamorphosis, and I’ve passed to the next stage in mine.”
Mordia returned to Matthews and continued removing the bandage around his eyes.
Jimmy cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. “How did they treat you in prison?”
Matthews chuckled softly. “Solitary confinement. The guards and warden believed the general prison population was safer not gaining my trust. Money and fame does strange things, even behind bars. Muscled brutes can become the most devoted bodyguards a rich man can have in prison. Their loyalties are bought cheap, kind of like hiring someone in a third world country to work for a quarter of the money a qualified US citizen would earn.”
“What exactly are you wanting me to do?” Jimmy asked.
“Nothing yet. But in an hour or so, I’ll need you to run background checks on some people to make certain they’re not being looked for by family or the law.”
“I don’t understand.”
Mordia removed the last bandage from Matthews’ face.
“FBI records, criminal investigations, and missing person reports.”
“FBI? You want me to hack into their system?”
“If that becomes necessary, yes,” Matthews said. “You’ve done it for me before. Is that a problem?”
Jimmy looked at Matthews’ harsh glare and shook his head. “No, sir. Not a problem unless I get caught.”
“Caught? I thought you boasted that you’re a mastermind at hacking into any security system. Have you gotten so lazy during my absence?”
“No, but I’m on probation now.”
“Jimmy? Probation, really?” Matthews shook his head with a disappointed expression. “I thought you were more careful.”
Jimmy’s face reddened. He shrugged.
Matthews stood and looked into the large mirror on the wall behind his leather couch. He turned his head slightly both directions, admiring his side profile.
“You do such marvelous work, Dr. Mordia,” he said. “Such a shame that more folks can no longer benefit from your miracle touch.”
She blushed again. “Thanks. After the healing completes, it will become even less noticeable in a day or so.”
Matthews nodded. “I imagine it will, my dear. I have no doubts your work.”
Mordia smiled modestly.
Matthews gave Jimmy a side-glance. “So you put your hands into the wrong cookie jar and got caught?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Well, that wasn’t on my watch. You know I protect my own.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mordia looked at Jimmy and then to Matthews. “How do you know him?”
“Jimmy worked with me when I was at Grayson Enterprises. Pretended to run errands for me while creatively getting inside information on Boyd Grayson.”
“I see.”
Matthews extended his hand toward the door. “Now, shall we get started, my dear lady?”
He headed to the door, and she followed.
“Shouldn’t take us a couple of hours, Jimmy.” Matthews said. He handed Jimmy several twenties. “Order several pizzas and make yourself at home. There are drinks in the kitchen cabinets. Get whatever you need. You’ll be staying here a while.”
Jimmy took the money and glanced nervously around the apartment.
***
Sheba ran through the dark tunnel with the three catlike creatures pursuing her. They were fast, but she was quicker and knew the tunnel better. However, being cats, their hearing was keener and their agility swifter.
She had never seen these beasts before and had no clue anything like them existed. Perhaps one-on-one she could stand her ground and win a confrontation. But against three? No. Even she had her limitations. Their sharp claws could gut her in minutes. Although she could heal from near fatal wounds, some injuries were impossible to recover from. And after the sickle to the chest, she remained weak.
Sheba wished she had approached the situation with Mitch differently. She had bullied him unnecessarily when she should have taken his offer of friendship. But she had refused to accept his kindness because she had been betrayed too many times. Mitch’s demeanor had been quite forthcoming and caring. Had she trusted him, he probably could have helped free Gloria. Instead, she remained a slave to the man who kept Gloria locked away.
Sheba rushed through the door, turned down the narrow corridor past the room where she had tied Mitch, and ran into the room of caskets. She hurried to the polished mahogany coffin in the center, lifted the lid, dove inside, and slammed the lid shut. She twisted the latch and locked the lid. She was safe for the moment. Even if the catlike creatures tracked her scent to the casket, which she was certain they would do, they weren’t able to get inside.
She panted, trying to calm herself. Her fear lengthened her claws. She tasted blood because her teeth were expanding, making her gums bleed. She fought the urge to change. Turning into a wolf lessened her ability to think rationally. Foolishly, she might open the lid and try to kill her aggressors. That outcome wasn’t in her best interest.
What appeared to be a casket on the outside actually camouflaged a passageway entrance. The lid and sides had been reinforced with steel plates. The inside polyester lining and one-half of the casket bottom had been removed. Only a small portion of the bottom remained. Where the other half had been, a ladder had been constructed and led downward into an underground corridor, which tunneled beneath the cemetery. Following it, she’d exit through a trapdoor into an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town. But the path Mitch and the woman traveled was in the opposite direction, so she’d need to figure out a way to find them later.
Officer Parker had informed her about the passageway so she could wander at night as a wolf and not be seen in public. After last week’s murders, she used the tunnel more frequently. She wondered if the cats had killed the people but feared she may have killed them.
Claws scratched the casket lid. The beasts huffed, sniffing the dirt and growling as they paced around the coffin.
Sheba slid to the open end of the casket, placed her feet onto a ladder rung, and slowly made her way to the earthen floor below. She wondered how long the cats would linger near the coffin, waiting for her to emerge.
She walked along the damp corridor with water sloshing beneath her feet. Again she thought of Mitch. A bit of her ached that she had betrayed his trust because he had been the first person she’d ever told about Gloria. After sharing her tragic story she had felt relief, like a huge weight had been lifted, her haunted soul lightened, but by the time they entered the cemetery that relief turned to regret and fear. Somehow she felt like her creator would learn she had given away too much information. His punishment would be severe.
It no longer mattered. Mitch had escaped with this woman. That alone would bring a harsh penalty. She hated to admit it, but Parker had been correct. She should have let Mitch take the bus and leave town.
When Mitch had asked, she had not lied. She didn’t remember exactly when she had gained the ability to shape-shift. She guessed that she had always had the ability. The night Gloria and the others came to the cemetery was the first time she remembered changing. Everything else was a blur. Her creator, who loved her like a daughter, had to clean up the mess after she revealed what she was, even though it had been accidental.
The boys disappeared.
Gloria was held in isolation.
Beverly was placed into a mental institution where no one believed anything she said. And because she truly had believed what she had seen, none of the staff ever questioned her insanity. Beverly would never recant the occurrences as a mad fictitious dream, so freedom from the ward was never coming. She was stuck there. Her heavy medication kept her mind in a constant veil of dullness and emptiness that prevented her from thinking and having uncontrolled outbursts. Seeing Beverly in a catatonic state pained Sheba. Her friend’s body was there, but her mind didn’t seem to exist. She worried she’d never see the real Beverly again.
Jill had been the weakest in her circle of friends and committed suicide before her parents had the opportunity to place her into the mental institution with Beverly. Sheba visited her grave every night, apologizing and begging for forgiveness, but without a verbal reply, she never accepted closure.
All these incidents were the nightmares Sheba lived with. That night in the cemetery haunted her. It always would. The guilt weighed upon her more and more each day. She was responsible and blamed herself for destroying their lives. It was why she couldn’t bear to trust others or even herself. It was also why she painted her face with morbidly dark colors to match her inward pain and regret. Piercings were self-inflicted pain to make her never forget.
The worst part of it all was that she understood none of her friends would have suffered such agonizing outcomes had she never agreed to be enrolled into the public school system. But her creator had demanded she do so and befriend others. He wanted to know how she’d interact with outsiders, with people who weren’t like her.
At first, Sheba had been hesitant, withdrawn, but soon enjoyed having friends her own age. She opened up and loved being in the high school clique where she discovered she could fit in. Tragically, they had come to know and love her and that amity succumbed to devastating outcomes.
The two people killed the week before were not her doing. At least she truly hoped she wasn’t the one who had killed them. She didn’t remember what or where she had been that night, so it left her to suspect herself as the guilty party.
Parker had never questioned her about it. He never even asked. The gruesome murders pressed on her and added another reason to continue doing her creator’s bidding. Although his love seemed genuine and fatherly compassionate, she didn’t doubt for a moment that her outcome might be like Gloria’s if she strayed too far. Or worse, she could become lost like Beverly where she never knew what went on around her.
Now, though, seeing the cats, she had to wonder if they had killed those people. It was worth investigating.
Regardless of what she discovered, Sheba’s one hope for redemption and freedom had left with Mitch. No matter how hard she tried to convince him that she needed his help, she didn’t believe he’d bother to listen.
She jogged slowly. Water sloshed down the tunnel. She thought about the catlike creatures. Nothing like them existed at her creator’s residence or in his labs. He favored canines, not felines. So where had they originated? Why were they roaming the area? And why had they not attacked Mitch and the woman? Instead, they were determined to pursue her.
She increased her pace. She needed some answers. Only one person could give her that information.
Her creator.
Alpha.
Sheba couldn’t ask him and instinct told her that she mustn’t seek him out. Not now. Not ever again.
As much as she wanted answers, she didn’t feel comfortable going to him. Once Parker discovered Mitch had escaped, she had no doubt he’d run and tell Alpha in an attempt to gain a higher status with her creator because he despised her strength and Alpha’s favoritism. Parker would do almost anything necessary to gain Alpha’s blessing and promotion. Even if that meant he must kill her in order to gain it.
Her mistakes and inadequacies placed a barrier in her relationship with Alpha. He wasn’t one to forgive or forget. She’d never known of one time he had given anyone a second chance. There was no redemption or pleading her side, her reasons. She was left with only one alternative. One that was destined to failure but she had to risk the attempt.
Sheba had to reach out one last time to Mitch’s sympathy and hope that he could have a change of heart and help her like he had promised to do. It was the only chance she had left for redemption. It was the only hope Gloria and Beverly had left.
She had to act fast though. The darkness that possessed Alpha brought fear inside of her. She wouldn’t be able to hide long. He’d find her. She knew that. He perceived things in ways humans or animals couldn’t. He was the reason she had warned Mitch that if he didn’t believe in paranormal aspects, he’d die quickly. And foolishly, she had attacked the only man that might have had the ability to free her from her mental and physical bondage to her creator.
At least Alpha didn’t control her mind. Not yet. But he did have the ability to bend one’s will, to make them do things they’d otherwise never do. He had never forced her against her will, but she’d never given him a reason to. Until today.
When she didn’t report in within a few hours like he expected her to do each night, he would channel his search for her until he linked to her mind. When he did this, she didn’t have the mental strength to shield against such an invasion. He’d probe through her thoughts and isolate her location. Once Alpha learned about her plans to help Mitch and the woman, he’d unleash his psionic power and thwart a direct attack into her mind, perhaps crippling her and making her useless—or worse, hemorrhage her brain to put her into a coma. Forever.
Racing to the end of the tunnel, she hurried up the ladder to the trapdoor. She needed to find Mitch and the woman and warn them before it was too late. She shoved the door upward and emerged in the basement corner of the abandoned warehouse.
Sheba sniffed the air. Mingled with the dusty, mildewed smell was the scent of sharp cologne she knew all too well.
She turned. Parker stood with a smile on his lips. His dark eyes narrowed with malice. His muscled jaw tightened.
The gun in his hand was leveled right at her face.
***
Lucas and Owl-hunter hurried to where Joe stood in the center of a dry, rocky gulch. A small campfire crackled. Smoke rose into gentle puffs of gray.
Seated on the ground, tied back to back, were Curt and Reggie. Joe stood near them and said in a calm, almost prophetic tone, “Tonight is your rite to passage. Things will pass through this valley that you won’t understand. You’ll wonder which is real and which are from your worst dreams. But when the visions come, the spirits will wander past and assault you. Some attacks will be so harsh that you’ll beg to die.”
Joe walked to Lucas and Owl-hunter. He smiled.
“Shouldn’t you gag them?” Lucas asked.
Joe shook his head. “No. The louder they scream, the worse their visions become. For their evil, the reckoning will come.”
Joe stepped closer to Lucas and looked him in the eyes. “How are you, bro? You had me worried back there when they forced me to go with them.”
“I’m dizzy, but I think I’ll manage.”
Owl-hunter smiled. “You are a warrior in heart, but like all of us, you’re getting older. I think you should be examined at the emergency room.”
Joe nodded. “I agree.”
“I won’t argue with you.” Lucas limped and squinted from pain with each slow step he took. “The older I get, the longer it takes for my injuries to heal. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“These men,” Owl-hunter said to Joe, “Are they the ones who tried to kill you for the skull?”
Joe nodded. “But after tonight, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about it.”
“But you still have it?”
“It’s hidden.”
“You must get rid of it.”
“I will,” Joe said.
Lucas looked at the two men. In spite of their muscled size, their widened eyes made their faces resemble little children frightened by ghostly tales around a campfire on a late summer evening.
Lucas and Joe walked back toward the vehicle. “Are you really going to leave them out here to die, Joe?”
Joe chuckled. “You know me better than that, bro.”
“I thought so, but that was a pretty convincing speech. It was enough to make me weary of staying out here at night. Gave me chill bumps.”
“That’s the point. To heighten their anxiety. Every little sound they hear from this moment on will make them wonder what’s edging closer.”
Lucas shook his head. “I never pictured you being so shrewd.”
Joe grinned. “That’s just the half of it.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. Two of my brothers will stay behind and sneak out here later and really whoop up some strange sounds. By morning, they’ll be wanting to live a few states over.”
“You’re not going to let them go, are you?”
Joe’s face became solemn. He shook his head. “No. They killed Misty. The sheriff will get them, and they will face justice. But tonight, we give them our kind of justice. One that will haunt them forever.”
“I like it,” Lucas said with a chuckle. He took two quick steps and stumbled on the rocky path.
Joe grabbed Lucas’ elbow and kept him from falling.
“You okay?” Joe asked.
Lucas shook his head and squinted. “Not sure. I’m extremely dizzy.”
“Let’s get you to the hospital.”