Landon shook his friend’s hand. Ryker pulled him in and embraced him. LillyAnna hugged the Dane, thanking him and his wife for their kindness. LillyAnna and Landon then ran outside to one of the parked cars and raced down the road.

  22

  Nicholas returned from the private jet’s restroom and sat across from Jamie. A flat screen TV hanging on the forward wall was tuned to a cable news station. Nicholas and Jamie had heard an hour earlier the news that had given them the information they needed to make their plan work. Two people in a Boston home attacked; suspect at large. The police were looking into a possible connection to the random killings that were taking place across the US.

  Then the news that changed everything—a survivor. The sister of the suspect had been taken to a local hospital in critical but stable condition with multiple stab wounds to the back. The plane headed for Boston.

  The younger passenger was looking out the window at the Atlantic below. He kept thinking about his mother and Sam, the man she loved. He thought about Landon, his father, his real father, and how that man made him what he was in more ways than one. He thought about LillyAnna and Serinda. Jamie noticed Nicholas staring at him.

  “What?” asked Jamie.

  “Nothing,” replied Nicholas. “Whatever you’re thinking, and I know what you’re thinking, I’m not going to stop it. I knew you were the one when I met you.”

  “The only thing I care about is making him hurt.”

  “Yes. And I’m not going to stop it. Now we will begin our own Reformation. A Restoration, if you will. You will lead our kind to a new dawn. Do you have the book?”

  “No, I forgot it.”

  “You what?” screamed Nicholas, his eyes blazing.

  “I forgot it. So what? I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care about your cause; I only care about what I can do to him.”

  “No matter,” said the elder werewolf, assuming a calming breathing technique. “In truth, we do not need the tangible word. We can make do without it. It is troublesome, however, that you’re not seeing the bigger picture. Which, most likely, is as it should be at this point. You see, what you don’t understand is that there is a consequence, be it positive or negative, for every action that takes place. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. You’ve heard that before. Well, you may think you’re only going to hurt him, but what you do to Landon will have other repercussions. There will be ripples in the pond. It will not end with him. Soon you will appreciate the vision that I have.”

  Jamie began to reach for Nicholas’s glass of whiskey on the rocks.

  “No,” said Nicholas, grabbing Jamie’s hand, holding it. “You cannot drink. You must be clear thinking—at all times. Besides, you don’t want to be like your father, do you? He drinks too much.”

  “Don’t call him that. He’s not my father. He only made me what I am.” He looked back out the window.

  The underground river of anger began bubbling to the surface. Nicholas needed only to tap into it. The master knew his puppet.

  “So what’s your story?” Jamie asked.

  “I’ve been around awhile,” said Nicholas, sipping his whiskey. “I was part of a group of werewolves who were hunted in the mid-eighteenth century. We lived in a town called Gevaudan, in south-central France. We lived in peace as farmers, hunting only animals at night. Then one unfortunate day, a teenage girl turned up dead. The wounds appeared to be similar to the bite of a wolf so, naturally, the citizens turned their anger toward the forest outside town in their search for the beast. In fact, that’s what they named it—the Beast of Gevaudan.

  “So my fellow shape shifters and I agreed to not change until the animal was caught and things calmed down. Unfortunately, one of our members, Luc, was unable to contain his hunger for the hunt, subsequently entering the forest on a moonlit night. He was seen by a different kind of hunting party, and the villagers figured out what he was. We can survive a lot of things, but multiple transformations does not extinguish fire. They cornered Luc in a small cave, deep in the woods, and burned him to death. The murderers knew who his kinsmen were and correctly deduced that the rest of us were creatures just as he was.

  “In the end, I was the only one to escape. Pierre and Francois suffered the same fate as our brother. The real beast was never found. Eventually, I made my way into Germany, where I was found and taken in by the Senate. They gave me a home and a purpose. Later, I was appointed the personal assistant to the Consuls. It was during my early years at Burghausen that I learned about the old way, the time of the Transfiguration. So I waited for the right person to appear, and here he sits, in front of me. That is my story.”

  “How did you become a werewolf?”

  “It happened so long ago, I do not remember. I do know that, like you, I was not given a choice. It was forced upon me. It was forced upon you, in a way, through Landon’s DNA. Fathers are like that.”

  Jamie’s eyes squinted hearing his father’s name.

  “How much farther?” he asked.

  “We’re about halfway to the US coast. We’re making a stop elsewhere, though, before going on to Boston.”

  Jamie continued staring out the window, but he wasn’t looking at the ocean anymore. Something else was brewing behind his eyes.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “Louisville.”

  “Louisville? Why? Landon’s probably on a plane somewhere over Spain by now.”

  “We need to pick up something, then we’ll get back on track. Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”

  “What’s so important in Louisville?” Jamie asked.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Approaching the Portuguese coast, Landon paced in the plane’s cabin. The ice in his rocks glass clinked with every step, but he never spilled a drop of his Irish whiskey.

  “That’s not helping anything,” LillyAnna said.

  “What isn’t?”

  “Your constant pacing,” she said, looking down at the floor.

  “Is that all?”

  “No. Your constant drinking, too,” she said with dedicated eye contact.

  “I haven’t had that many.”

  “You’re on your fifth. Do you think now is a good time for that?”

  “Lately, any time is a good time,” he said, taking a drink.

  “It’s not helping. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “No, but you heard the news. There’s a possible link in Boston, with a survivor, which is where I have to go. Meanwhile, my son is out there somewhere with Nicholas for God knows what reason.” Landon paused, collecting his thoughts. “My son. Now you add all that up, and I say it’s drinking time.”

  “Look, we don’t know what Nicholas’s plan is,” she said in a reassuring tone.

  “They take off together, heading for the United States, and don’t tell anyone. No, he’s up to something, and now my son is involved. We’ll go to Boston, we’ll find this killer, then we’re gonna find my son.” He refocused. “So what do we know about the situation in Boston?”

  “The survivor’s name is Jenny McClursky,” said LillyAnna, reading from a notebook. “She was admitted in critical care, but has since been upgraded to serious condition. She’s expected to survive, though there will be many months of physical and psychological therapy. The poor girl. Her brother, Jerry Wayne McClursky, is the alleged attacker and murderer, since he also stabbed his mother, dead at the scene. They’ve released a sketch of Jerry, but no photo. Apparently he doesn’t like to have his picture taken. That’s all the details they’re making public at this time due to the ongoing investigation. They’ve not yet said why they think there may be a connection.”

  Landon walked over and picked up the police sketch of the suspect. He tried to focus on the mission at hand, hoping it would take his mind off his son. He surveyed the drawing, taking in all of the intricacies such as the dark curly hair, the eyeglasses, and the round, fatty face. Mostly he looked into Jerry McClursky’s eyes. He always tried to see the little boy inside the eyes, the child the adult perpetrator used to be. Landon wanted to find some semblance of humanity. Typically, there was none to be found. Such was the case with Jerry.

  Jamie closed the door to the sleeping quarters at the rear of the plane behind him, making his way back to his seat. He looked out the window at the Louisville skyline trailing off in the distance. Next stop, Boston.

  “Well?” asked Nicholas.

  “Sleeping,” answered Jamie. “If Landon gets to Boston first—”

  “He won’t,” Nicholas interrupted. “We’ll get there first, question the girl, then move on to the next phase of the plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “More collecting,” Nicholas said, coldly. “This, my dear boy, is why information is power. Thanks to you and what you knew about certain people, we will have more tricks up our sleeves than they will be able to deal with. You see, the devil truly is in the details. With everything you’ve told me about Landon and LillyAnna, this is going to be so much bigger than I could have imagined. After Boston, we’re going to New York. We must get far away from the Senate to destroy our enemy. The trap is being set. Tonight is for you, as you exact your revenge, kill Landon, and become the true, powerful werewolf you were meant to be. He will experience suffering as he never has before. Tomorrow is for our species.”

  Touching down in Boston, the plane taxied to a private hangar where a black sedan was waiting. Following the GPS, they pulled into the hospital parking garage in fifteen minutes.

  Most normal people would have to stop by the information desk for directions, but with their heightened sense of hearing, it wasn’t difficult for Nicholas and Jamie to find the floor with the most commotion. They stopped on the seventh floor when they heard what sounded like the incessant chatter of a high-society cocktail party.

  The elevator door opened, and there stood a crowd of cameramen, reporters, police, FBI agents, hospital personnel, friends, and extended family members of the victim. There were so many people that no one noticed the two men get off the elevator and head toward Jenny’s room. No officer was posted at the door.

  “You take this,” said Nicholas. Jamie smiled, quietly slipping inside while Nicholas waited in the hall.

  Jenny had the usual tubes and machines plugged into her worn body. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell. Though the major wounds were covered by bandages and blankets, the bruising that colored her face and arms told the story all the same. The heart monitor’s beeping indicated a weak but steady rhythm. Flowers, get-well cards, and stuffed animals filled the room. Many of the cards were handmade by children. Jamie guessed they were probably young elementary kids, based on much of the spelling. Jenny was a teacher, he figured.

  The biggest bouquet of flowers, red and yellow roses, sat on her nightstand. By the window was a chair with a man’s jacket wrapped around the back; a Bible sat on the floor. A boyfriend who had momentarily stepped out of the room, no doubt.

  Walking to the side of the bed, Jamie whispered in her ear.

  “Jenny.”

  No response.

  “Jeennnyyyy,” he said, his eyebrows rising slightly, drawing out her name.

  She made a slight moan, turning her head slowly toward the sweet voice calling her name. It took a minute for her to open her eyes and focus on the stranger standing in front of her. Her mouth was too dry to speak. Lacking the strength to lift her arm, she glanced back and forth at Jamie and the counter behind him in an effort to communicate. He turned, seeing a cup and a plastic pitcher of ice chips. Scooping a few ice chips into the cup, he placed it to her lips, tipping it slightly.

  “I know you don’t know who I am. My name is Jamie. I’m a friend.”

  Jenny nodded to show she understood.

  “I know who did this, and I want to help catch him. Is there anything you can tell me that you might have told the police regarding Jerry’s whereabouts?”

  She again nodded. Her throat less dry, she spoke.

  “New York,” she whispered in a light breath.

  “New York City?”

  Another nod.

  Does Nicholas know something I don’t, he thought. “Do you know where in New York?”

  She swallowed, wincing in pain, her eyes closing tightly. After a few seconds, they opened again.

  “He likes the…” She stopped to catch her breath. “…underground scene. Dark clubs.”

  “You mean underground clubs, places like that?”

  She nodded, this time with less energy. She began to nod off. Jamie watched her, thinking about Landon and how he was on his way to the hospital for the same information. The memory of what he did to his mother during his first transformation kept coming back. The transformation that took place because of Landon. The very thought of Landon only exacerbated his emotional instability. Bending down, he whispered a final time in Jenny’s ear.

  “You did great, Jenny. Now it’s time for you to get some rest.”

  The fingernails on his right hand extended. He put his claw through her left side. Her head oscillated left and right, back and forth as Jamie ripped through her open flesh, blood collecting in a pool on the floor. She let out a whispering scream that no one other than Nicholas, still in the hallway, could hear. Jamie heard Nicholas casually walk back down the hall and get on the elevator. He heard the alarm at the nurse’s station call the staff to Jenny’s room. By the time help rushed through the door, Jenny was already dead, her window open. An officer rushed to look outside and saw no one.

  “Whoever it was didn’t go out this way,” Jamie, standing around the corner, and listening with his heightened hearing, heard the man say. “They wouldn’t have gotten back up after jumping from the seventh floor.”

  Moments later, the teen and Nicholas met back at the black sedan.

  “Thanks for teaching me the partial change on the plane,” said Jamie, placing his hand on the roof of the car, swaying back and forth.

  “You don’t look well,” said Nicholas.

  “I really don’t feel well.”

  Suddenly, Jamie bent forward and vomited, spewing two days’ worth of food all over the pavement and the front passenger wheel.

  “What was that all about?” asked Nicholas. “Ah, yes.

  Your first conscious kill—and not as a werewolf. It’ll pass. Or, maybe you’re not ready for this, yet. We shall see. Where’s Jerry?”

  Jamie wiped his mouth with his hand and composed himself.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m fine. You’re not going to believe the break we just got. He’s in New York. We need to go to his house to get the scent.”

  Nicholas smiled, seeing that it took only a slight nudge to get Jamie to do what he wanted.

  An hour later, Landon and LillyAnna arrived at the hospital and got on the elevator.

  “I’ll be quick,” he said. “She’s not going to have much energy, and she’ll be on a lot of drugs. I may not be able to get anything at all.”

  “If she’s having too much of a hard time, don’t push her. We’ll find him,” said LillyAnna.

  Stepping off the elevator, there was a flurry of activity, police questioning nurses, reporters questioning police. Unlike before, the two new individuals at the scene were stopped immediately.

  “Can I help you?” asked a cop.

  “We’re looking for Jenny McClursky,” said Landon.

  “And you are?”

  “A friend,” he replied.

  “Well, I’m sorry to be the one tell you this, but Ms. McClursky passed a little over an hour ago.”

  “Passed?” asked LillyAnna, shocked. “I thought she had been upgraded. What happened?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she was upgraded to serious, but stable condition. Since that time, however, a medical situation arose. I’m afraid I can’t give you any more details at this time. Which family member did you say you were?”

  “A distant one. Thank you anyway, officer,” said Landon, grabbing LillyAnna’s arm and pulling her back on to the elevator. As the doors slid closed, he smelled the air, and his eyes burned red.

  “Jamie,” he said.

  23

  “You sure this is the one?” asked Nicholas.

  “Yeah, this is it. This is the one he talked about.”

  “Wait here. Stay focused on the scent from the house. We’ll track down Jerry after the next pick-up.”

  Nicholas exited the car and walked to the little diner across the street. The place was busy. All of the booths were full, as were most of the seats at the counter. Waitresses whizzed by carrying trays full of food and stacked, empty dishes. The smell of grease filled the air. Unless one were a werewolf, it would be impossible to distinguish the conversations taking place amidst all the order-giving, order-repeating, and ringing bells as the cooks let the waitresses know there was an order up. Behind the counter, a middle-aged waitress with long red hair tied up in a bun watched him to see where he would sit. Nicholas took the first red stool he could find.

  “Hi, hun, what can I get ya?” asked Carol, the waitress.

  “Coffee. Black,” said Nicholas, smiling.

  “That it?”

  “Yeah, from the menu. I’m also looking for someone. An old friend, and I was told she works here.”

  “Really? What’s her name?” she asked, pouring his coffee.

  “Paige.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. “Sweet girl. She used to work here. Quit a few years back. She went back to school; works as a paralegal now. She comes back in from time to time to visit. Says she’s thinking about trying for a law degree. She’s real smart. Real pretty, too.”

  “Wow, that’s great to hear,” said Nicholas, feigning excitement. “Do you know where I can find her?”

  “Well, I don’t have her address. I have her phone number, though I shouldn’t give that out,” said Carol. “But you look harmless.”

  “No wolf in sheep’s clothing here.”

 

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