Dark of the Moon (11 page)

Monique brought us breakfast. Funny thing was, she appeared really nervous doing it and wouldn’t even look at us directly.

“I’ll see if I can find you some blankets for tonight,” she said quietly before leaving.

“What was that about?” I asked as I ate the sausage and biscuit. “Do you think watching us last night embarrassed them?”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t see how. I mean, yeah, we got a little carried away with the kissing, but we didn’t go nearly as far as I wanted.”

I felt my cheeks warm, broke off a bit of biscuit, and
tossed it at him. “Bad boy.”

“I’m gonna be if we don’t get out of here.” Finished with his meal, he brushed off his hands and began walking slowly around the perimeter of the cage. “There has to be a way out.”

“Once we get out of the cage, we have to get through a locked door.”

He winked at me. “One prison at a time.”

The door opened and Mason strode in with his familiar entourage and two guys I didn’t know. They were beefier than the lab guys, but not quite as buff as the ones holding guns.

“Ah, company,” Connor said. “And here I am not yet dressed.”

I was still wearing his sweatshirt.

“That’s okay,” Mason said. “So what’s the ink on your back mean? I know Lucas and Rafe have one.”

“Fraternity initiation.”

Which was what Rafe had told Mason earlier in the summer when he’d asked.

“See, I don’t believe it. However, that’s okay. Studying the samples you provided yesterday has proved very enlightening. But what I really want is to see you transform into a wolf.”

“Afraid you’re just going to have to be disappointed, because I can’t transform.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mason asked.

“Don’t you think if I had the ability to change into a wolf, I’d have done it when you captured me before? You know, when I was escaping?”

“Wolves invaded our camp. Are you saying you’re a wolf whisperer?”

“I’m saying I’m not a werewolf.”

Mason grinned. “One way to find out for sure.”

I heard clanking and glanced over to where Ethan, Tyler, and the two new guys were building what looked like a metal tunnel. I was dying to ask Mason what was going on, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Connor must have realized that Mason had something unpleasant planned, because he moved over, wrapped his hand around mine, and squeezed. I squeezed back.

“What do you think he has planned?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

They shoved the tunnel over until one open end covered the doorway of our cage. I heard the squeaking of wheels and watched as a cage was rolled in—a cage housing a cougar.

“Damn,” Connor muttered.

“Is he a Shifter?” I whispered. Some of our kind shifted into other animal forms.

Connor shook his head. “No, he’s the real deal.”

I was grateful that he didn’t question why I couldn’t
sense the truth about the cougar. I figured he was too busy thinking strategy. Unfortunately, if what I thought was about to happen happened—he had only one option.

They set the cage in front of the other end of the tunnel and secured it.

Connor glared at Mason. “Mason.”

The threat in his voice was unmistakable.

“It’s for the good of mankind.”

“That’s bullshit. All you want is to be something you’re not. You want it so much you’re willing to believe something this crazy, go this far, to get it.”

“If I don’t personally benefit, then it doesn’t make me the bad guy.”

What a lie! We already knew he had plans to personally benefit.

“Read my lips,” Connor said. “Look into my eyes. I’m not a werewolf. If you let that cougar in here, he’s going to kill us.”

For a split second, a single heartbeat, Mason seemed unsure. Then he shook his head, nodded as though he’d been arguing with himself. “I know what I know,” he said sternly.

“At least take Brittany out of here, so you don’t have two deaths on your hands.”

“She’s my guarantee you’ll fight and not surrender,”
Mason said, and at that moment I hated him with every fiber of my being.

“Oh God,” I whispered as Mason pointed the remote and our door slowly opened.

Connor released a harsh curse, and I knew he’d been bluffing, that he wouldn’t willingly accept death on Mason’s terms. Still, I was terrified at the thought of what was about to happen.

Connor jerked off a boot and threw it at the bars. He did the same with the other.

I moved back, leaving him room to maneuver. His socks came off next and then he was reaching for his belt.

The door to the other cage began opening. The cougar snarled, the catlike sound grating on my ears, setting my teeth on edge. My back hit the corner, rattling the cage.

Connor jerked his attention over to me. “Brittany, get ready to shift.”

I shook my head, tears burning my eyes. “I can’t.”

“What?” Connor took a step toward me, flinging his hand out to where Mason and the others stood. “Forget them, ignore them. This is our survival we’re talking about. I might be able to take him, but if he gets a shot at you, you’re in a better position to defend yourself as a wolf.”

I knew I had to kill any hope he had that we were in
this together. “I can’t shift. I’m so sorry, Connor, but I’m not a Shifter. I’m human.”

They were the hardest words I’d ever spoken. And judging by the stunned expression on Connor’s face they were the worst words he’d ever heard.

The cougar shrieked as it loped down the tunnel. Connor’s survival instincts kicked in. He backed into the far corner to give himself maneuverability and began to remove his jeans.

I turned away, wrapping my hands around the bars, because I couldn’t stand to watch the confrontation. The cage shook with the power of the cougar entering it and then I heard the howl of the wolf.

I spun around. The wolf and cougar were entangled in a deadly embrace, similar to what Connor and I had experienced when we’d wrestled. First one would be on top, then the other. Then they’d break apart and come at each other again. Teeth and claws were striking hard, making wounds, drawing blood that was beginning to leave trails on the floor.

My gaze drifted over to Mason once. He looked as though he was experiencing ecstasy. I could see the hunger, the yearning to possess the power that Connor now exhibited.

But mostly I watched Connor fighting for his life, knowing there was little I could do. I had no weapon.
I had no way to help him maneuver the cougar into a position that would allow him to sink his teeth into its throat. I jumped around the cage, trying not to get in the way, thinking that if I could get to the doorway, I could scamper into the tunnel and give Connor more room to fight without having to worry about me.

As though he was now worrying about me. He was probably wishing the cougar had taken me first as a snack.

Suddenly I was angrier than I’d ever been. Angry at my mother for leading me to believe that I was a Shifter. Angry at Mason for forcing me to reveal that I wasn’t. I wanted to take him on.

Then I thought to hell with him and his manipulations. Just because I wasn’t a Shifter, it didn’t mean that Connor had to fight alone. I had a mean roundhouse kick.

Making fists, bouncing on the balls of my feet, I concentrated on the battle playing out before me, waiting for the moment to make my strike. I knew Connor’s moves, had experienced them firsthand. His wolf maneuvers wouldn’t be that different, because even in wolf form he was still Connor. I watched, saw the opportunity, moved in, and kicked the cougar’s rump—hard.

Hard enough to make it screech. Hard enough to distract it.

I quickly backed off.

Connor had an advantage now and he took it. Went in for the kill, sank his teeth into the cougar’s jugular.

I knew, unlike Mason, Connor took no pleasure in ending any creature’s life. Shifters respected all aspects of nature. Even an enemy was killed with regret.

The cougar thrashed and stilled. Connor backed away, stumbled, and went down. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that he’d been seriously wounded.

I rushed over to him, knelt beside him, and gently lifted his head into my lap.

When Shifters transformed, hair turned into fur, hands and feet became paws, teeth sharpened and lengthen, noses turned into snouts—but the eyes, the eyes didn’t change. When someone looked into the eyes of a Shifter, he saw human eyes, not wolf eyes.

So now as I gazed at the wolf’s face, I was looking into Connor’s eyes. It was Connor I was seeing, Connor I was talking to. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you.” I combed my fingers through his fur. “I’m so, so sorry.” I knew I was repeating myself but I couldn’t think of any other words to express my sorrow and remorse. And my shame.

I’d let him down. Something I’d never expected to do. No matter the circumstances, I’d always thought I could protect our kind, I could uphold my end of any confrontation.

I heard movement and glanced up. Mason and Wilson were standing by the cage, Wilson pointing a dart gun. I held up my hand. “No, you have to give him time—”

Wilson fired. Connor jerked as the dart lodged home in his shoulder. He struggled to lift his head, but in his eyes I could see the drug taking effect. He collapsed in my lap.

“Damn you, Mason! You needed to give him time to heal.” I tore off the sweatshirt and by the time I draped it over Connor, he had returned to human form.

“Huh,” Mason said. “So they revert back when they’re unconscious?”

I wasn’t in the mood to answer his questions. Blood was soaking through the shirt. “He’s badly hurt. He needs a doctor.”

“You’re not a werewolf, but you know about werewolves.” He was stating not asking.

“Shifters. They refer to themselves as Shifters. Get him a doctor and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“No lies?”

“No lies.”

He nodded and glanced over his shoulder. “Ethan, go get my dad.”

I wouldn’t leave until Dr. Keane was finished treating Connor. Since I’d last seen him, his hair had gone com
pletely white. I imagined working with his out-of-control son could do that to a man.

“So I just stitch him up normally, as though he were human?” Dr. Keane asked.

I confirmed his question with a nod. Connor’s head was in my lap and I was combing my fingers through his hair. The cougar had gotten him in the shoulder, side, and thigh. “When he wakes up, he’ll heal himself.”

“So he can shift at will,” Mason said. “Not just when danger threatens. I mean, he doesn’t need an adrenaline rush to trigger the change?”

“He shifts at will,” I confirmed, feeling sick to my stomach with each fact I corroborated.

“When we shot Lucas with a tranq dart, he didn’t shift back.”

“Maybe he wasn’t completely unconscious.”

“So Lucas
is
the wolf with the multicolored coat.”

I hated that I’d unwittingly betrayed Lucas by not paying more attention to the questions. Yes, I’d promised to tell Mason everything, but I was only planning to tell him
everything
that wouldn’t give him any sort of advantage over the Shifters. I may not be one of them but my loyalty first and foremost was to them. “Yes.”

“So are only the male sherpas Shifters?” Mason asked.

I swallowed hard. “No, there are girls.”

“But not you?”

I shook my head.

“Our tests have already proven it’s genetic, and Connor thought you were a Shifter so what’s the story there?”

I didn’t figure I had anything to lose so I told him about my Shifter mother and human father.

“Then the Shifter gene is recessive,” he said.

I shrugged. “You’re the scientist, not me.”

“Has to be; otherwise there’d be more Shifters than humans.”

“Maybe you just don’t recognize a Shifter when you see him.” I couldn’t prevent the snide comment from slipping out but regretted it as soon as Mason said, “You know we can rip those stitches right out of Connor. We could even inflict some more wounds if we wanted, worse wounds.”

I gritted my teeth. “Humans outnumber Shifters.”

“Thank you. See how easy it is when we all cooperate?”

Thank God, he didn’t ask any more questions until I was satisfied with the work his dad had done on Connor. It wasn’t the prettiest stitching I’d ever seen, but it wasn’t as though I planned to frame it and hang it on the wall. It just needed to do its job—stop the bleeding until Connor woke up and could tend to his own wounds.

To my immense shock, Mason let me take a shower to wash off all the blood. Monique served as my bodyguard and stayed in the bathroom to make sure I didn’t try to make a run for it. But her presence was totally unnecessary. I wasn’t going to leave Connor.

“You know I never really believed it was possible,” Monique called through the shower curtain. “The ability to change into another shape. It just seemed so improbable, something better suited to the SciFi channel.”

Scrubbing my body hard, I didn’t answer.

“But the pay was so good, you know? I’m the oldest of seven. My parents aren’t well-off. I was trying to do what I could to help out.”

If she was seeking forgiveness for her part in this experiment, she was looking in the wrong place.

Monique was taller than I was but sweats are somewhat adjustable so she let me borrow a pair that she never used in public, but used solely for hanging around her house. She liked them large so she’d be comfy. What was loose on her was snug on me.

She also located some blankets and borrowed a sweatshirt from Johnson that I could take to Connor. Not that I thought he’d wear it. It had the Bio-Chrome logo imprinted above their slogan: “Studying chromosomes for a better tomorrow.”

“When you brought us breakfast this morning, you knew what they had planned,” I said.

She appeared remarkably sad when she nodded. “Yeah. For what it’s worth, we all thought it was a bad idea—but Mason is obsessed with the medical ramifications. Don’t you understand the lives that we could save?”

“The Shifters don’t hold the cure. Do you really believe you can transfer abilities that easily? There are creatures with the ability to regenerate missing limbs. Do you think they’d provide us with that capability if we sucked the life out of them and put them in a test tube?”