Lion And The Falcon (Furry United Coalition) (5 page)

“Well, we didn’t.”

“A pity. It would have made my job easier.
Back to the psychos on the loose. What kind of mutations are we talking about? Extra teeth? Hulklike shifting? Super strength?”

“Despite the energy it requires, yes
, size is one of the most common things we’ve noted they have in common. Expect them in shifted mode to have a body mass two to five times denser than normal, if not more.”

The estimate made her
brows arch. “How is that possible?”

He shrugged. “How can any of us shift in the first place? There’s obviously more at work than just simple genetics. The kind of weight we’d be talking about otherwise condensed when they’re in human form would make it impossible for any organs to function. Much as I hate to use the word magic or inexplicable, something makes it possible.
You should see Renee when she turns into her fox. She’s the size of a minivan.”

“No way.”

“Oh yes, and if you even think of looking at her croc, she’s liable to eat you. Good thing she’s on our side.”

“Wait a second.
Isn’t she one of the people you rescued? How come she’s allowed to roam free?”

“Renee was
a patient of Mastermind’s, but as a study subject. Her special ability stems from a childhood incident involving a radioactive vat. Something about her mutation makes her resistant to drugs so Mastermind’s experiments didn’t work on her. But you needn’t worry about Renee. She’s quite docile, unless like I mentioned, you threaten those she loves.”

Clarice rubbed at her forehead. “
Why does this mission keep getting more and more complicated?”

“It’s only because you’re new to FUC. Once you get used to
our methods and the staff, you’ll find it much easier to follow. Heck, you might even fall in love with FUC and never want to leave.”

“I prefer ASS.”

“Excuse me?”

“You might like FUC
, but I’m an ASS girl, as in Avian Soaring Security. No mutant birds or mad scientists in our outfit.”

“
Wrong. Apparently, you didn’t read the whole file. We’ve got a bird on the loose. From the reports, we think it’s an ostrich mixed with pterodactyl.”

Clarice
blinked, but he remained dead serious. “Okay. I see I’m going to need to do some serious reading tonight. In the meantime, let’s go back to physical changes that seem universal among the changed patients. Let’s start with their muscles.”

“Overly developed. It’s like each and every one gets pumped up
, whether needed or not. Instant twelve packs, and quads, and pecs. It’s quite disconcerting.”

Having seen enough body builders on steroids to know, she couldn’t help but agree.
“Teeth and claws are elongated?”

“Think saber
-toothed and add a few inches in some cases. I know Mastermind thought she’d found the switch to spring us forward evolution wise, but if you ask me, the switch she turned on in the DNA strands was a step back into the past. I mean, the dentition we’ve estimated on some of the mutations is ridiculous.”

“Dinosaur
-sized in other words.”

“Yes.”

“So where does the violence stem from? You said something about increased testosterone and decreased mental capacity. But that doesn’t explain the rage. I’ve heard the recordings of that night. They all seem so…angry.” Beyond angry, bloodthirsty. Or as one of the psychos said, “hungry.”

“
I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of the change or just an enhancement of their issues stemming from captivity. Don’t forget, these people were victims kept in horrifying conditions. Many of them hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Some, like Renee, were captive so long she didn’t even recall what the sky or sun looked like. Add in a heavy dose of hormones, a primitive urge for survival, and they did what any animal who feels hunted or in danger would do. They lashed out.”

“Now you’re stretching.
These aren’t teenagers rebelling. These are full-grown people. Adults. They know right from wrong.”

“But they had their brains tampered with. Are they really responsible for their actions?”

“They ate your staff.”

He winced. “Only some of them.”

“Raw.” Her nose wrinkled as she said it.

“Yeah.” He slumped.

“So, they suffer from ‘roid rage times a hundred. What else?”

“
According to my testing, their healing ability is compromised mostly because of the energy they expend while in shift mode. They require large quantities of vitamins and nutrients to replenish themselves and have to rest after every change.”

“So lots of food and sleep. Gotcha. If we can mobilize quick enough after an attack then we might be able to catch them while they’re recuperating.”

“I thought the plan was to catch them before they hurt anyone.”

“In a perfect Pollyana world, we would. However, do I need to remind you of how well that hasn’t been working for you? If we knew where they were
, you wouldn’t need me. Correction, you would still need me, but I wouldn’t be wasting my time talking to you instead of being out there hunting them down.”

“Rescuing.”

“Whatever, Sylvester.”

“Nolan.”

“I told you I was bad with names. So how many animals we talking about on the loose? And what kind?”

“Again, it’s in the files.
”

Ugh, again with the reading. “
Humor me.”

“A dozen
are still roaming, if they survived. Amphibian, ostrich, chimp, two from the squirrel family, a do
e—
”

“A deer?”

“A female deer.”

Okay, she wasn’t going to start humming that stupid song she learned in school. No. No. Too late. The next verse started in her head as he went on reciting the animals.

“A domestic cat, a gecko, and four unknowns.”

“Unknown?”

“They couldn’t recall their shifter animal and their records were missing. One has the appearance of a melted candle mixed with slime, but the other three, even though we put them through DNA testing, came out undetermined.”

“So we’ve got a full menu of shifters, each with different abilities running free. Lovely.
Well, thanks for answering my questions.”

“
That’s it?”

“For now. I might have more
questions later. If you could show me to that room you promised me for interviews and send in the staff who treated them, then I get can started.”

“
Of course.” The doctor spun in his polished loafers and headed up the hall, the lack of a white coat leaving his butt on display. A fine display. Not that Clarice admired it. Okay, maybe she did. Blame her acute vision, which forced her to notice just how nicely he filled out his pants. Ugh.
There is something so wrong about a bird wondering what a cat’s butt would look like naked.

Dr. Manners
left her alone in a windowless, nondescript room after ascertaining she didn’t want his help. Clarice conducted her interviews with the staff who worked with the maniacs on the loose. None of them had much to add other than several of the patients really hated medical personnel, they feared for their safety, and Dr. Manners was just dreamy. It made Clarice wonder if it wasn’t just the patients they drugged around here.

Unlike the doctor
, though, the staff all seemed agreed on one point. The psychos on the loose should be stopped at all cost. Lucky for them, they had the best ASS agent on the job.

Ta
lking with Clarice left Nolan unsettled. Something about her roused his feline, and not in a hunt-the-bird-down-and-swallow-her-whole kind of way, but more like an I-want-to-lick-her-up-and-down fashion to see if he could ruffle her unflappable feathers. He blamed his inappropriate urge on fatigue because he refused to entertain the notion she attracted him. Dominant women were not his type, even if he could so easily picture Clarice in a skin tight, leather cat sui
t—
made of synthetic fiber, of cours
e—
wielding her sharp tongue in ways meant to pleasure a man. Drool.

No
and no.
He shoved the erotic image away. Hot or not, he didn’t date—willingly at any rate—strong-minded females. They reminded him too much of his mother and the rest of the females in his family. Shudder.

After he
checked on his comatose patient—no change—he ducked off to his office for a short nap. When he woke, Clarice had left, and his patient remained unresponsive. More discouraging, the test results had returned. Nothing he had attempted treatment wise showed any positive effect. The DNA changes remained locked.

Brainstorming in front of a whiteboard
, already scribbled with ideas, didn’t give him any fresh insights.
I don’t know what to do.
Depressed, he slouched in his leather seat.

What he needed to bring his spirits up
and get his creative mind flowing was to eat something rare, bloody, and juicy. His stomach rumbled in agreement. One last check on his patient, some instructions with the night staff, and umbrella in hand lest the light mist outside turn his blow-dried mane into a snarly mess, he headed off on foot for a nearby restaurant.

The motorcycle
he had spotted on security cameras, which he assumed belonged to Clarice, no longer sat parked in his spot, a spot he rarely used given its exposure to the elements. He wondered if she’d discovered anything during her interviews.
Can she find the patients and prevent more loss of life?
Would her skills make a difference in the hunt?

At times like these, he wondered at the life of an agent versus that of a healer.
Sure, they both had their versions of excitement, but while his kept him cooped up in one place solving medical mysteries, the other, field duty, meant getting out and about, having adventures instead of patching up the results. He couldn’t help but remember the fun he had when he went with Mason to track down Viktor and Renee. Sure, he went in the capacity of a doctor, equipped to mete out medical aid if required, but he also recalled the excitement of tracking through the woods, of being on the hunt, a real hunt. Doing something outside the sanitized world he usually played in. Oddly enough, he wouldn’t mind going on that kind of excursion again.

As if FUC would use him in a capacity other than that of a doctor.

As if his mother would let him.

As if he’d listen.

Maybe he should ask Kloe if any of the search teams would mind bringing him along. Despite his lack of field training, he did have a great nose. And given what they faced, his medical expertise, not to mention his giant kitty side, could come in handy. Something to ponder. After he ate, of course.

The barely singed, thirty
-two ounce porterhouse served with two baked potatoes, salad, bacon wrapped scallops, fried garlic mushrooms, and aged red wine lifted his spirits a little. The tiramisu, fluffy sweet perfection, brought a smile to his lips. Leaving a hefty tip, Nolan walked back to the safe house to pick up his car, and that was when the back of his neck started to itch. Either someone followed him or he’d caught fleas again. Given he’d just had his mane groomed and kept up to date on his shots, the latter seemed unlikely.

S
lowing his pace, he turned halfway as if to peer in a storefront window. In reality, he flicked a glance behind him. However, too many people milled on this stretch of sidewalk rife with fashionable boutiques and cafes for him to confirm his paranoia. Probably just a bunch of drunken secretaries again, trailing him at a distance, giggling. It happened more often than he wanted to admit.

Straightening his
already impeccable tie, he took off again, sauntering as if he didn’t have a care in the world, whistling a jaunty air, smiling at the ladies, and tipping an imaginary hat. As the traffic thinned near the brownstone and the buildings tapered from business to more residential, he gave no warning and darted into a shadowed space between two buildings, flattening himself against the wall.

Footsteps pounded on the pavement. He waited until the person, with no heed to stealth, flew around the edge into the alley
. Quickly, he grabbed his pursuer and slammed him up against the brick wall.

“Why are you following me?”
Nolan showed some teeth as he snarled in a most menacing fashion.

“Don’t eat me. I’m a FUC agent,” squeaked his follower.

“Eat?” Nolan wrinkled his nose. “That’s even more offensive than the cologne you’re wearing. Really, Old Spice? What are you, fifty?”

Actually
, the young fellow shadowing him probably wasn’t even legal to drink. “It’s my father’s, sir. I mean, doctor, um, sir.”

“Let’s stick with Dr. Manners and an explanation of why you’re following me
, and not very well, I might add.”

“It was the office’s idea.”

“Office, as in FUC?”