the way most people
would be after an experience like that.
Her hair was platinum blond, as were her
eyebrows and it looked to be her natural color. Her face was
beautiful, with the smooth perfection of the young. I put her age
at seventeen or eighteen. Pixie-like features. Her body, well, her
body was a problem in and of itself.
Very few people should go naked. I'm sorry,
but that's just how it is. All that crap about the body is a
beautiful thing in all its shapes, forms and ages is just that –
crap! Now, of course, if you're gonna seek out people who look good
naked, girls in her age range are prime candidates. But this girl
was another level or three altogether. Let me put it this way: if
the United States had an Olympic naked team, this girl would be a
captain.
In addition to her naked beauty, she also had
a bleeding wound on her left calf, with a werewolf-sized tooth
puncture right in the middle. My focus, which had been decidedly
distracted, suddenly snapped back to a sharp point. I re-looked at
her wound with my Sight, and found it crawling with green. The LV
virus liked her, no, scratch that, it adored her.
Immediately, a dozen things ran through my
head. Primary was the image of this girl in a cage, deep in an
underground government lab, mad as a hatter. If Briana Duclair
discovered Miss Soon-to-be Teenaged Werewolf, the girl's life was
over.
I looked her in the eyes.
“What's your name?” I asked, softly.
She licked her lips to wet them, then
answered with only the slightest tremble in her voice.
“S-stacia. Stacia Reynolds,” she said.
“What's your's?”
She wasn't the stereotypical blond
cheerleader type; this girl had cojones.
“I'm Chris. Listen Stacia, we don't have a
whole lot of time before others arrive. I have a lot to tell you
and no time to be delicate about it,” I said. I took out my own
light and lit up the body of poor Mr. Lassiter, who was as he died,
still a werewolf.
“That is a werewolf. A rogue. It bit you and
in one month you'll be a werewolf too.”
“Like that! I'll be like that!” she hissed,
her eyes glistening with moisture and one little tear leaking down
her tan cheek.
I shook my head. “No, not like that. I
guarantee it. He didn’t have anyone to guide him. You will have the
best of help, you'll be guided through it and you'll be fine!”
I realized that I meant every word of it. If
I had to move the planet, I would get this girl the help of the
most powerful weres in this part of the world. And she would make a
great wolf, because the virus fit her like a glove. I had screwed
things up enough, this I would make this right.
I explained how I would get her help, and
what would happen when the feds arrived. That she couldn't let them
know she had been bit and not to trust them. As I spoke I looked at
her wound, almost in a panic about how to hide it, but then the
knowledge came to me. It was like something unfolded in my head,
sort of unpacked itself, and then I was reaching for her calf with
both hands. I put my right palm over her wound, my left at the
other side and I poured clean violet power through her leg, telling
her cells what I expected of them.
She jumped a little as I did it, and when I
pulled my hand away, the wound was gone, just pink skin. I wiped
off the blood, both hers and mine where it had dripped down my arms
from my own now healed wounds, using an antiseptic towelet from my
vest.
“Now, I need your help with two things,” I
said, swiping my hair with a shaky hand. “First, I need you to get
dressed, ‘cause you’re distracting as hell, and second, where are
those hot dogs I smell?”
* * *
The others arrived fifteen minutes later, the
result of my radio call to Gina. The Blackhawk swooped in low
overhead and five ropes dropped, followed by five bodies
fast-roping down. It would have been an impressive display, but
it's hard to be impressed when you, yourself can just jump the
twenty feet to the ground.
The five strike team
would be after an experience like that.
Her hair was platinum blond, as were her
eyebrows and it looked to be her natural color. Her face was
beautiful, with the smooth perfection of the young. I put her age
at seventeen or eighteen. Pixie-like features. Her body, well, her
body was a problem in and of itself.
Very few people should go naked. I'm sorry,
but that's just how it is. All that crap about the body is a
beautiful thing in all its shapes, forms and ages is just that –
crap! Now, of course, if you're gonna seek out people who look good
naked, girls in her age range are prime candidates. But this girl
was another level or three altogether. Let me put it this way: if
the United States had an Olympic naked team, this girl would be a
captain.
In addition to her naked beauty, she also had
a bleeding wound on her left calf, with a werewolf-sized tooth
puncture right in the middle. My focus, which had been decidedly
distracted, suddenly snapped back to a sharp point. I re-looked at
her wound with my Sight, and found it crawling with green. The LV
virus liked her, no, scratch that, it adored her.
Immediately, a dozen things ran through my
head. Primary was the image of this girl in a cage, deep in an
underground government lab, mad as a hatter. If Briana Duclair
discovered Miss Soon-to-be Teenaged Werewolf, the girl's life was
over.
I looked her in the eyes.
“What's your name?” I asked, softly.
She licked her lips to wet them, then
answered with only the slightest tremble in her voice.
“S-stacia. Stacia Reynolds,” she said.
“What's your's?”
She wasn't the stereotypical blond
cheerleader type; this girl had cojones.
“I'm Chris. Listen Stacia, we don't have a
whole lot of time before others arrive. I have a lot to tell you
and no time to be delicate about it,” I said. I took out my own
light and lit up the body of poor Mr. Lassiter, who was as he died,
still a werewolf.
“That is a werewolf. A rogue. It bit you and
in one month you'll be a werewolf too.”
“Like that! I'll be like that!” she hissed,
her eyes glistening with moisture and one little tear leaking down
her tan cheek.
I shook my head. “No, not like that. I
guarantee it. He didn’t have anyone to guide him. You will have the
best of help, you'll be guided through it and you'll be fine!”
I realized that I meant every word of it. If
I had to move the planet, I would get this girl the help of the
most powerful weres in this part of the world. And she would make a
great wolf, because the virus fit her like a glove. I had screwed
things up enough, this I would make this right.
I explained how I would get her help, and
what would happen when the feds arrived. That she couldn't let them
know she had been bit and not to trust them. As I spoke I looked at
her wound, almost in a panic about how to hide it, but then the
knowledge came to me. It was like something unfolded in my head,
sort of unpacked itself, and then I was reaching for her calf with
both hands. I put my right palm over her wound, my left at the
other side and I poured clean violet power through her leg, telling
her cells what I expected of them.
She jumped a little as I did it, and when I
pulled my hand away, the wound was gone, just pink skin. I wiped
off the blood, both hers and mine where it had dripped down my arms
from my own now healed wounds, using an antiseptic towelet from my
vest.
“Now, I need your help with two things,” I
said, swiping my hair with a shaky hand. “First, I need you to get
dressed, ‘cause you’re distracting as hell, and second, where are
those hot dogs I smell?”
* * *
The others arrived fifteen minutes later, the
result of my radio call to Gina. The Blackhawk swooped in low
overhead and five ropes dropped, followed by five bodies
fast-roping down. It would have been an impressive display, but
it's hard to be impressed when you, yourself can just jump the
twenty feet to the ground.
The five strike team
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