No Such Thing As Werewolves (31 page)

“Then fucking aid me. Give me an alternative. I’m not killing these people,” he barked, catching a wide-eyed look from a chubby ten year old with a chocolate stain on his shirt. Blair glared at the boy, who spun back to face a mother with enough arm hair to be mistaken for a werewolf herself.

There is another path, a foolhardy path. If you refuse to feed, then you must deplete your reserves of energy. Burn it away and so, too, will the hunger burn away. I must counsel against this course. It will leave you vulnerable, weak before the coming storm. You will need your strength.

“I’m not killing them. How do I burn it away?” he asked, forcing another step. Deceptively small and just inches away, Liz stood ready to catch him.

Use your higher abilities. Touch the minds around you. Or shift into a beast. Your instincts will guide you. Trust them.

Blair turned to Liz, meeting her gaze with a steadiness he’d lacked just moments ago. Touch others’ minds. It sounded so sci-fi, but wasn’t that exactly what the old man had done to him back on the beach in Peru? He’d seen a wolf miles away, a wolf he’d known was a man. That man had reached into his mind across an incredible distance. So why couldn’t he?

Liz, can you hear me?
Blair thought, somehow
pushing
toward her. Something electric crackled between them as her eyes widened.
 

“Did you just?” she asked, releasing him as she clutched both hands at her chest. It was a defensive gesture, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d told her about his experience with Ahiga, and she’d felt the old man’s power back in Acapulco. She was putting the pieces together with dizzying speed. “Can you do it at will? What am I thinking now?”

Blair concentrated, staring deep into her eyes. What had it felt like when Ahiga entered his mind? How could he duplicate such a bizarre feat? At first he felt foolish, so close that Liz’s heady scent was almost overpowering. It was awkward and intimate, but he forced himself not to break eye contact. This release of energy was vital. If he failed, if the voice could be believed, he might fly into a rage and kill everyone around them. Blair pushed, straining against
something
. It was like trying to move a car up a hill by himself, and he began to pant despite the fact that he hadn’t moved or physically exerted himself in any way.

Females possess an implacable will. They cannot utilize shaping, but piercing their minds is extremely difficult. Your will must be honed, a slender dagger to pierce her psyche.

He suppressed the questions that bubbled up. Exactly what was shaping? Why couldn’t females do it? That didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was finding a way inside Liz’s mind. It wasn’t a
should
or a
maybe
. It was a
must
. So he pushed. And pushed. He gathered his will, trying to focus it into a slender dagger as the voice had suggested. It felt like molding putty, especially since he was so unsure of what he was doing. He pictured a steak knife, pouring all his will, his need into it. Then he thrust, shoving with all his might. Liz gasped, eyes widening. The world vanished.

Blair was lost in a sea of darkness, unsure of where or why. Then he became aware of something twinkling in the distance, a tiny pinprick of golden light. Others joined it, a sea of stars all around him. It was if he lay at the center of a hollow globe, looking out into space. Was this the inside of Liz’s mind? One cluster of lights was much closer than the rest, so Blair moved toward it. The sensation felt like swimming, or perhaps this was what flying was like. As he neared the golden cluster, each dot resolved into a separate globe with images dancing within. He saw people and places he was unfamiliar with, and he sifted through them until he finally found one he recognized. It was him, wearing the same clothing he’d purchased at the airport. Standing in the same crowded walkway. He was seeing himself through Liz’s eyes.
 

A shadow loomed behind him, and Blair spun to face it. There, in the distance, stood an impossibly tall monster. The auburn werewolf he was coming to know so well. Its hackles were raised, teeth bared. Its gaze had settled on him. She was coming for him. Blair panicked, unsure of what might happen if he stayed. So he fled, far and fast, away from the lights. There was a sudden shock, and he staggered backward, suddenly in his own body again. Liz darted forward, catching him before he collapsed into the chipped stone wall to his right.
 

“It’s all right. I’ve got you,” she said, easing him back to his feet. Her hands were cool despite the heat. “What happened? Did you see something?”

“I saw inside your mind,” he replied, raising a trembling hand to his temple. His head throbbed, but the hunger had abated at least a little. “There were a million stars. Memories, I think. I was able to sift through them. To see things you’ve seen.”

“You went through my memories?” Liz asked, eyes turning dangerous. “Did you see anything I need to know about?”

“No. I saw…me. Me through your eyes,” he admitted, still feeling dizzy as they inched up the corridor with the rest of the cattle. “Then there was this giant werewolf. Your beast, maybe? It came after me, so I ran. The next thing I knew I was standing here.”

“I guess that’s what I get for asking you to read my mind,” Liz replied, gaze softening. She took another step forward. They were only a few people away from the uniformed immigration guards waving people past. “Remember, just let me do the talking and we’ll be fine.”

Blair wasn’t so sure. He was coated in sweat, weaving like a drunk.

Chapter 42- Bruce

Liz sucked in a deep breath as she stepped into the space vacated by a leathery-skinned man in a 49ers T-shirt, gagging from the stench of grease and beer he’d left in his wake. The overpowering sense of smell was one of the downsides of her newly acquired senses.
 

A bored-looking woman squatted in an uncomfortable metal chair at the head of the line, the sweat-stained fabric of her blue uniform straining to contain her bulk. It was a battle the garment threatened to lose at any moment. Pinned to the top of the uniform was a lopsided brass tag that read
Brenda
. Brenda’s gaze roamed up and down Liz, apparently classifying her as nothing worthy of attention. She accepted the passport Liz offered, flipping open the blue leather cover and inspecting the image inside.

“Welcome to the United States,” she said in the plodding way reserved for those doomed to repeat the same phrase thousands of times a week. She shifted her gaze to Blair. “Passport or driver’s license, please.”

“My boyfriend lost his wallet,” she interjected as Blair shot her a nervous glance. He was drenched in sweat, his Hawaiian shirt so sodden he looked to have been dunked in a pool. Perspiration plastered the garment to his chest, showing off the wall of muscle underneath. The blond stubble and mussed hair gave him a rumpled look, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary in the steady flow of hung-over tourists.

“No ID?” the woman asked, mouth tightening as she adjusted her bulk. The chair creaked alarmingly. “I’ll have to call over a supervisor. Step off to the right.” She gestured at a painted red square a little ways apart from the flow of tourists.

Blair shot her a look, every muscle tensing. He reeked of impending violence. She put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head.
Not right now
, she thought. Hopefully he could hear that. If so, he didn’t respond, though he did relax ever so slightly. They hurried over to the area the woman had indicated, standing alone as people threaded by.

Several moments later a tall black man with a shockingly pink scar on his chin approached. He wore the same uniform as the other bored workers, but his complemented broad shoulders and thick arms. Like those of a bird of prey, his clear brown eyes studied them as he approached. He was clearly used to every flavor of bullshit border crossing. His name tag read
Bruce
.

“I’m given to understand that one of you doesn’t have any form of identification. Is that correct?” he rumbled, voice like a landslide. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m also given to understand that one of you looks like death warmed over, but now I’m thinking that was an understatement.”

“That’s right,” Liz broke in before Blair could speak. She hoped he’d keep his mouth shut and over-zealous Bruce would just assume he was whipped. “My boyfriend lost his wallet on the beach, and to top it all off, he has food poisoning. Bad shrimp down in Ensenada. We just came down for a weekend vacation. That’s not a problem, is it?” She kept her tone light and shot the man her best smile. He wasn’t impressed.

“What’s your name, sir?” he asked, gaze fastening on Blair. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

“Blair Smith,” he finally said, scowl deepening. “Listen, I’m sicker than a dog. More than a little hung over. I’m tired, and I really want to lay down. You can tell I’m an American. People must lose their wallets all the time. Just let me by.”

It was a great mix of confrontation and entitlement, just the sort of thing an upper-middle-class tourist might say when returning to the states. Liz breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was playing along instead of giving in to the beast.

“I understand your discomfort, sir, but it’s my job to make sure we don’t allow terrorists into the country. Do you have any way to substantiate your identity?” he asked, unmoved by Blair’s apparent ire.
 

“I guess we could call the university I work at. You could talk to one of my coworkers,” he offered with a shrug. Liz could kick him. If the man obliged, Mohn would know about it within minutes.

“Is that really necessary? I can substantiate his identity. I’m his girlfriend,” she asked, leaning a bit closer and resting her hand on the officer’s forearm. “Listen, Bruce, I know you’re just doing your job, but we’re in kind of a hurry. We have to meet my brother for dinner, and we’re already two hours late. I don’t suppose you could just let us through? I know your time must be valuable.”

 
He gave her an appraising look, which darkened when he turned to Blair. “You’re lucky your girlfriend has some manners. I’m within my rights to detain you until your identity is ascertained. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

“Thank you,” Blair said, visibly relaxing. Liz seized his hand and dragged him past the man before anything else could happen.

They entered the second half of the bridge straddling the traffic-clogged freeway, picking their way past slower families as they made for the red spiral staircase leading down to the parking level. It was ringed by thick metal bars and made Liz uneasy, despite having made the crossing before. It reminded her too much of a cage.

“Looks like you were right,” Blair admitted once they were out of earshot. “Thank God that’s over. Now what? We meet your brother?”

“Yeah, we meet Trevor and head back to his place. I’ll tell him we need to do a blood test and we’ll see what he can arrange. Either we’ll have him bring a kit home, or maybe he’ll take us to SDSU where his office is,” she answered, squinting at the sudden brightness as she entered the stairwell.
 

“I’m hoping you come up with something,” Blair answered, following her down the concrete steps. They were black with grime, discarded gum, and other things she couldn’t identify. “I want to know how we’re able to change. And how I’m able to read minds. I don’t believe in magic. There’s got to be an explanation.”

“I
do
believe in magic, but even that has to be based on sound principles. I have a theory. We’re surrounded by signals everywhere these days, right?” she asked, pausing to slide around a mom leading her two year old down the wide stairs.

“Yeah, cell phones and Wi-Fi are everywhere now,” Blair said, following just a step behind.

“So one of the websites I spend some time on claims that these waves could be altering our behavior. I know, I know…It makes me sound like a conspiracy nut. But if you’d said the same thing about werewolves and ancient super powered civilizations a few weeks ago, how would people have reacted?” Liz asked, pausing to catch Blair’s gaze. People tended to react badly if she brought up some of the sites she frequented, especially people in academia. She’d never so much as mentioned them to her brother.
 

“So you think that I’m using a signal to establish some sort of link with someone’s brain? That could explain what Ahiga did to us. He sent out some sort of pulse that paralyzed us both,” Blair theorized, brow furrowed in thought. He was quick. “Wouldn’t that take some sort of power source?”

“The brain is just a complex electrical system. I don’t see any reason it couldn’t act like a receiver, picking up signals that you broadcast. Waves bounce, so the same waves would return back to you. I bet that’s what establishes the link,” she answered, growing more excited. The theory made sense. “That doesn’t explain the gender difference, though. How is it you can do this
shaping
thing the beast talked about, but I can’t?”

“That part is easier to get my head around,” Blair replied, dodging a puddle of something viscous as they neared the ground level. “We’re a sexually dimorphic species. Men are generally taller and stronger. Women are more resistant to pain, and in my opinion much better looking. We have different chromosomes and different hormones, like testosterone. It makes sense that whatever this virus is could affect us differently. What I’m wondering is if there’s a way to test our hypothetical signals? That might grant some insight about our abilities.”