Fated

Chapter 26

The Earth had her own presence underneath the ground where she hummed and echoed all round, vibrating with ancient wisdom and purpose. Still in the Washington state facility, Cara sat back in the chair and surveyed the small conference room, her belly happy and full. Dage might be the King of the Realm, an ancient vampire, but the guy made a mean omelet. Breakfast had been delicious.

They’d spent the night and awaited the test results on Katie and Maggie. Cara had been relieved to find an e-mail from Emma saying she was just fine, reaching the end of her research, and that they’d be together soon. Cara had also spoken with Janie—she missed her child and needed to feel the little girl in her arms.

Her gaze landed on Maggie, who sat pale and quiet across the marble conference table. The speckled beige rock surrounding them on all sides cast a sandy pall over her face. Less than fifteen hours had passed since Talen spirited Cara out of the meeting room when Maggie had started to shift. “How are you?” Cara asked.

Maggie shrugged, her deep brown eyes showing a weariness that matched her slumping shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, the wolf form felt right, it felt natural. Though I couldn’t shift back until dawn broke, and that felt weird.”

Jordan and Katie flanked Maggie at the table while Dage sat at the head.

Talen shifted his weight in his chair next to Cara, his hand warming hers under the table. He leaned forward. “So, let me get this straight. She changed into a wolf, into a were, and then back into a wolf?”

Jordan nodded. “Yeah, almost like the two forms fought each other to come out.”

The door opened, and they all turned as a short man with bushy white hair stumbled inside, his hands full of papers. The scent of rubbing alcohol filled the air. Glancing around, he gave a nod and sat at the foot of the table.

Dage cleared this throat. “This is Dr. Miller, our chief scientist.” Another human. Interesting that all three doctors were human.

The doctor nodded, spreading his papers on the hard surface. “Hi, er, yes hi.” Pushing black-rimmed glasses up his bulbous nose, he took a deep breath. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Miss, ah, Miss Maggie is a wolf-shifter with the requisite twenty-eight chromosomes. However, she apparently was infected with a virus that attacked the shifting chromosome.”

“Shifting chromosome?” Maggie asked, clasping her hands together on the table until they turned white.

“Er, yes. The twenty-seventh chromosomal pair marks shifters as type—canine, feline, or multi—much like the chromosome that determines eye color, you know, blue or brown,” the doctor said. “Oddly enough, we believe the twenty-seventh chromosome of vampire mates holds the key to the so-called mating allergy.” He yanked a handkerchief out of a breast pocket and blew loudly. “Some chromosomes are more powerful than others, and apparently the twenty-seventh is a doosie.”

A doosie? Cara’s mind reeled with the new information—man she wished Emma was here. “I see. And Maggie’s chromosomes?”

The doctor tucked the hankie back in his jacket, facing Maggie. “You’re a wolf shifter by nature, which is why the wolf came out last night.”

Jordan sat back in his chair. “That’s not all that came out last night.”

“Yes, yes, well.” The doctor’s thick glasses enlarged his grey eyes until he almost appeared to be a cartoon character. “Isn’t there a plant biologist here?”

Cara nodded. “I’m a plant physiologist.”

“Er, good. Well, you know how your people are injecting viruses into plants, into crops for better yield?”

“Sure.”

“Well, this is similar. The virus attacks the genetics of the shifter and mutates it.” He pulled a paper off the bottom of the pile. “Into a werewolf.”

Katie gasped and reached out to pat Maggie’s hand. “It’s okay, Maggie. We’ll figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” Maggie asked, tears filling her eyes. “It’s obvious. I was a wolf-shifter, and now I’m turning into a werewolf. For some reason I can’t remember, that’s a bad thing.”

Katie straightened. “You are a wolf-shifter. I saw your wolf form with my own eyes last night.”

Cara cleared her throat. “What’s the difference? I mean, between a wolf and a werewolf.”

Releasing her hand, Talen brushed her hair off one shoulder. “Werewolves are pure animal, no reason, no intelligence. They’re enslaved to a master with a simple spell, a master who has complete control over them.”

That sucked. Cara’s interest grew with the science involved. “But nobody triggered the change last night.”

Jordan nodded. “True. But there was a full moon, and all weres change during the full phase—whether they want to or not.”

This was unbelievable. “And when they’re in human form? Do they live normal lives?” She again wished Emma was here—her sister would understand the genetics involved much better.

“No. The human becomes scattered, confused. Then after the third full moon, or the third change, the were form is permanent,” Jordan said.

Wow. Urban legend was so wrong. “How does one normally become a were?”

Talen wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “The movies have that one right, mainly. If a human is either bitten or scratched by a werewolf, they’ll change—then the spell, or curse, binds the beast to a master.”

“And the Kurjans want to be the masters,” Cara said. “So, not only are they using science to venture into the sun and steal mates, they are trying to make a slave class of werewolves from shifters.” She drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, biting her lip. “But, I don’t understand. If the Kurjans want a huge slave class, why not infect a bunch of humans? Why go to all the trouble of creating a virus to change shifters into werewolves?”

Jordan sat forward. “Because human werewolves live at the most one year. They’re just too fragile to survive in animal form.”

Wow, that did make sense. “So, changing shifters into werewolves might lead to longevity for a slave class,” Cara mused.

Dage nodded. “It makes an odd sense and creates a twofold advantage. First, they end up with an immortal frontline army to do the dirty work, and second, they take out many of our allies. That is, if this virus actually works, and the Kurjans finds a way to mass contaminate.” His silver gaze deepened, and he focused on the doctor. “Does the virus work? I mean, Maggie fought the change and shifted into a natural wolf form instead.”

The doctor nodded, sniffing loudly. “Yes. Er, well, yes. I’ve never seen this before, and we don’t know if the Kurjans perfected the process.”

“So what happens now?” Maggie asked, her voice full of defeat.

The doctor shrugged bony shoulders. “I have no idea. Either the virus will run its course and you’ll return to normal, or the virus will run its course and you’ll end up a werewolf.”

Geez. He could’ve sugarcoated that a bit more. Cara pursed her lips. “The curse or spell—how is it done?”

Talen rubbed gentle circles on her shoulder as he answered. “It’s an incantation the master gives while the were is shackled in chains of silver before him.”

“So they have to be in the same room?” Cara asked.

“Yes,” Talen said.

Well, good. They’d keep Maggie safe until a cure or even treatment for the virus could be found. Cara smiled at her new friend, relieved when Maggie attempted a small smile in return.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I, er, ah, haven’t notified the Banes Council yet.”

Katie leapt to her feet, a red flush of fury sliding across her high cheekbones. “And you won’t, damn it. She’s not a werewolf.”

Jordan tugged Katie back into her chair and the young woman grudgingly retook her seat, her gaze hot on the doctor. Jordan’s eyes hardened to bronze as he focused on the man. “The statute dictates notification is only proper if a werewolf is found. Maggie is a wolf-shifter, not a werewolf.”

The doctor leaned forward. “Yes, er, but the statute requires notification if someone suspects the presence of a werewolf.” His eyes widened behind the ridiculous glasses, and his voice rose in pitch. “I suspect the presence of a were.”

Next to her Talen straightened into readiness. What was going on? “What’s the Banes Council?” Cara asked.

Turning beseeching eyes toward her, the doctor straightened his striped red bow tie. “The Council investigates, hunts, and terminates werewolves. We are bound by law to notify it.”

She turned toward Dage. “You’re the King of the Realm.” At his nod, she continued, “Then can’t you pardon a werewolf?”

Dage grinned, flashing even white teeth. “Pardon? No.” He rested his hands on the spotless table. “We’ve sent out requests for information leading to a missing wolf-shifter and expect results soon. Also, since there was a full moon last night and Maggie turned into a wolf and not a werewolf, I believe she’s not a werewolf.” He pinned the doctor with a sharp silver gaze. “And thus the Council need not be notified at this time.”

Man, Dage was smooth. A true diplomat who carried a big stick. Cara gave him a smile.

Jordan leaned forward and showed his own sharp teeth. “Maggie is under the protection of my Pride. Period.”

Not so smooth, but just as effective. And deadly.

The doctor swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple jogging up and down in his scrawny neck. “As you both wish.” He stood, shuffling toward the door. “For now.”

Several hours later, the earth pressed in and Cara pretended trees filled the room, their soft leaves cascading to fall around her as she lay in the huge bed. There was no real plant life in the Washington facility, damn it. She rolled onto her side, her imagination inhaling the fresh oxygen from the tall cottonwoods. Where was Talen? He said he’d be to bed soon.

They’d spent the day in the lab trying to decipher the lab results. No luck. Finally, after a late dinner of chicken casserole, she’d headed to bed while Talen remained to plot strategy with Dage. Several hours ago. He should be done by now.

She shifted onto her back. What the hell was going on? Now she needed him next to her in order to sleep? That wouldn’t do.

Yet she couldn’t prevent her sigh of relief when he finally stalked into their room, dropping his clothes on the way to the bed. Heat and spicy pine enveloped her a second before his hard body wrapped around her.

“Why are you still awake?” he mumbled into her hair.

She shrugged, her shoulders bouncing off his chest. “Dunno.” She yawned, her jaw cracking. “Maybe I’m worried about Maggie. What if she almost shifts into a were again tonight?” She hadn’t thought about Maggie all night—she knew better than to lie to herself.

Talen placed a soft kiss on her ear. “No worries. Weres only shift on the one night of the full moon—the rest is urban legend.” His arm banded around Cara’s waist tugged her even closer. “Now go to sleep—you need rest.”

“Why are we underground?” she asked as her eyes fluttered shut.

“For safety.” His breath caressed her ear and she fought a shiver of awareness. Of need.

“But your sworn enemy can’t venture into the sunlight. I’d think you’d live in glass houses in Florida.” Geez—weren’t vampires rational, or what?

He chuckled. “That was one consideration. But most of our enemies have powers that aren’t obvious, teleporting, telekinesis, psychic abilities—the earth protects us from someone on the surface using those against us.”

“But you can use those skills once you’re underground against each other or anyone else down here.”

“Sure. Now go to sleep.”

She may have mumbled something, letting his warmth caress her into oblivion.

The dream claimed Cara easily after the exhausting day. Her father chased her throughout the forest near their home—he was really going to kill her this time. His large, stumbling footsteps hit the hard, packed earth on her trail, and even as drunk as he was, he would be able to catch her if he saw her.

“You little bitch,” he screamed as thick boots destroyed low-laying branches. Ten-year-old Cara’s scraped, dirty feet came to an abrupt stop as she turned to track his progress, hidden behind a thick blackberry bush as the full moon illuminated the brawny man coming after her. His buttoned shirt was torn across the big belly that had turned to fat, and his beefy hands clenched into hard fists as he scoured the trees with feverish eyes. His red bloated face contorted in rage. “I knew the devil had claimed you—just like your bitch of a sister.”

Cara cringed as his harsh voice rang through the forest, trying to keep from shivering from the bite of the cool fall night. The trees stood eerily silent around her, all wildlife knowing to keep still. She watched warily as he turned and headed down a worn path, all the while screaming for her to show herself before he had to go back and kill her sister. Even in her terror, Cara smiled. She had given Emma plenty of time to get out of their beaten down house and to safety for the rest of the night, if they could just make it until he passed out from the booze, they’d live another day. They’d repeated the mantra to each other more than once. Her brow furrowed as she prayed Mama had let Emma lead her away this time. Otherwise, if he was still alert enough when he returned, he’d take it out on Mama.

The trees formed a thick canopy over her, and the bushes shielded her from view. The forest and plant life provided shelter and safety.

She lost track of time sitting on the cold earth. Soon her knees trembled and an ache rose through her skin. Finally, the birds started to chirp around her, proving the threat had ended, at least for the night. With a cry, she stumbled over to a large tree trunk and sank down to the packed forest floor before burying her face in her knees and letting the sobs come. Guilt, maybe shame, hurt worse than the fear.

She hadn’t understood why Emma always seemed to make him mad. On purpose. She had thought he hit them because Emma made him angry. Tonight was the first time, with the wisdom of a ten-year-old, that she saw what Emma was doing. And why. Her older sister had been purposefully putting herself in the way of his beefy hands so he would hit her instead of Cara. Instead of Mama. She had cowered in the tiny kitchen corner as Daddy had advanced on Emma with a knife in his dangerous hand.

“If I kill you, little girl,” her father had hissed at Emma, “then who will protect these other two? Hmm? Do you think I don’t know why you’re the first to jump in my path? Do you think I’m stupid?” he screamed and a vein stood out on his neck, his face flushed full with booze and rage.

“I know you’re stupid,” twelve-year-old Emma yelled back, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth from his last hit as she steadied herself against the worn yellow cabinets. “And I also know the devil will be here for you soon.”

Cara had no defense against the wave of rage that crashed from her father—she tried so hard to block his feelings, his demons, but sometimes they were too strong. Maybe he was right. Maybe the devil had infected her with the ability. Her eyes widened as he lumbered across the plain dirt floor, so big, so strong toward her sister, who was so small. And brave.

Emma’s black hair curled disheveled around her pale face, a dark bruise already forming on her chin and deep blue eyes flashing with hate. And fear.

It was the fear that did it. Cara jumped from her crouch and collided with her father before sinking her teeth into the arm holding the knife. The knife clambered to the floor and with a bellow, he swung his arm, throwing her across the kitchen into the cabinets. Pain rocked through her shoulder up to her head, and she fought back a sob. She leapt to her feet. “She’s right, Daddy. I had a vision. You’re going to die and go to hell. Soon.” Then, she ran out the kitchen door for the forest as the closest thing to the devil imaginable chased after her.

Finally, leaning against the hard bark, she sobbed as she fought to get rid of his rage that had filled her. It wasn’t hers. She shouldn’t have to feel the black hatred, she shouldn’t have to feel the blinding urge to kill her own sister. It wasn’t fair. And she wouldn’t do it again. The sobs rose as her small shoulders shuddered with the pain.