Author's Notes:

Century Traveler is a tale I've been waiting for the right moment to publish.

It's a modern day fantasy story of vampires, werewolves, and more, but with a different spin.

I hope you find as much enjoyment reading it as much as I did writing it.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

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Century Traveler

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Chapter 1

As John sailed over the expansive hood of the mint condition 1972 Cadillac Eldorado, time slipped into slow motion.

He'd been looking down at his bike's front wheel when the car lunged out in front of him, so as he passed over it, he was looking directly at its beautiful paint job, lit only by the late evening's streetlights. The owner had obviously paid top dollar for the deep clear coat. It was so lovingly hand-buffed and shiny that he got a good look at his reflection on the way by.

His expression wasn't one of surprise. There hadn't been time for that to register yet. He still had the grim, determined look he wore when he'd launched his bicycle across the intersection, out of the saddle and sprinting hard. The way was clear, the green was his with no sign of yellow, but he knew it would pop up momentarily.

Now here he was, airborne.

Well... shit.

He was a twenty-eight-year-old man with no girlfriend and no circle of close-knit life-long friends. The closest he came to that was his work friends... and his landlady. That's it. As an orphan, he had no family. So really, there wasn't a lot to leave behind. He wondered who would attend his funeral. Would there even be one? He hadn't made a will because... shit, he was only twenty-eight!

As he passed the far edge of the hood, he noticed that he was totally inverted, feet to the sky and head to the ground. Cartwheeling, he thought. Huh. He wondered which end was going to slap into the pavement first. He wondered if it would hurt before he died. He wondered--then nothing.

He woke to a steady beeping sound. He wished he was still asleep as he'd been having the nicest dream. He'd been floating up in the clouds, but the strange thing was, they were passing through him instead of the other way around. He had a faint memory of pain, a great deal of it, but that was lost now in the soothing waves of the clouds. Each time one traveled the length of his body from head to toe, he felt just a little bit better. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but the memory of the pain was so hazy now. He was sure he'd been in heaven and felt a pang of loss now that he woke up. The clouds were gone.

He cracked his eyes a little, and blurry shapes formed in his mind. Before him was a broad field of white with a dark object just beyond. His vision sharpened, and he was looking down at a bed, and someone was standing at the end, reading something. The face finally registered as his shaken grey matter finally came back online. It was Mr. Sass, the homeless guy he talked to outside of the bookstore. What was he doing reading his chart? Why did he look so serious?

"Mr. Sass?" he croaked out and immediately regretted it as his dry throat protested.

The man's expression froze in surprise, then a look of relief slipped over his features, and he quickly covered it up with his usual crooked smile. The old man put the chart back into the bed's holder.

"Hey! It's the man who thinks he can fly!" the old man snorted. He poured some water into a cup and helped John sip it from a bendy straw.

His parched throat immediately felt better. "Thank you," he sighed. He peered up at the old man again. Something was different about him. He saw Mr. Sass almost every morning outside the bookstore where he worked. He didn't know much about the black gentleman aside from the fact that his origin was likely Scotland based on the accent he sometimes let slip when excited. His mind was sharper than John could ever hope for. He wore a subtle cologne that smelled like spices which, for some odd reason, calmed John when he breathed it in.

Most mornings, the old man was sitting on the bench outside the store, and they always shared at least a greeting. Sometimes the man would spring a quiz on him, and John would have to answer correctly and quickly or face some good-natured ribbing delivered with the man's trademark smirk. Today that smirk was in place, but... he looked shaken. There was a tremble in his lips as though he was struggling with something.

"What's the prognosis, doc?" John asked with a slight smile, hoping to cheer him up.

The man looked at him, then away, and ran a hand through his short grey hair. "You'll live. You're good. Excuse me," he said, pushing open the curtain as he left.

John was stunned. He'd seen tears in the old man's eyes as he turned away. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he got a little worried. He finally looked down at himself, taking an inventory of all his extremities. He could see, feel, and gratefully move his fingers and toes, but his left hand was encased in plaster. Crap. He'd broken something. It didn't seem like something that would upset someone so greatly.

He looked to his right and saw the little button for summoning the nurse. He reached for it clumsily and managed to poke it sufficiently. A few moments later, the curtain opened, and a nurse entered.

"Ah! You're awake. Good. I'll let the doctor know. And how are we feeling today?" she asked.

"I feel good! I mean, aside from this," he responded, holding up his left hand. "Is... uh, my visitor still nearby?"

"What visitor would that be?" she asked.

"Uh, I actually don't know his real name. I've always called him Mr. Sass. He's an older black man with grey hair, tall and slim, wearing a black... trench coat..." he stopped when the nurse looked at him strangely. "What?"

"No one of that description has been in to see you, and it's well past visiting hours," she replied.

"But he was just here," John insisted.

"Let me contact the doctor," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She turned and left through the curtain.

John glanced to the table on his left, and there was the glass of water and bendy straw Mr. Sass had helped him drink from. Good! He wasn't hallucinating.

A few minutes later, a rather harried-looking doctor burst through the curtain, walked right up to John, and flashed a light in his eyes. He took his pulse and finally stopped to actually see his patient. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I told the nurse, I feel good. Not too comfortable with this cast, but..." John replied with a small shrug.

"You are incredibly lucky to be alive. It was your helmet that saved you from cracking your head wide open. The helmet was destroyed, and I understand your bicycle was too. You probably shouldn't be cycling for a while, so that's not an immediate concern. You've been here for a little under a week in a coma. As I said, you hit your head pretty hard, and you've broken your left wrist in three places. You've also got some general bruising and some--nasty scrapes... what?" he trailed off as he examined where the road rash had been.

John looked down and thought he saw a pink patch on his left hip but couldn't see more than that.

The doctor poked him in the side, and John yelped as it tickled. The man went to the end of the bed and picked up the chart. He scanned it with a frown, leaned out the curtain, and called for the nurse. John listened to the two having a terse conversation then the nurse came in to examine the spot the doctor had poked. "It must have originally looked worse than it was, doctor. The area looks like it's healing well. I see new skin coming in, and I don't see any scarring," she explained.

"I know what it looks like now, and I know what it looked like when he came in. I was the one who cleaned all the gravel from the shredded skin. That was only six days ago." He looked even more harried than he had when he arrived. Faint grey circles were forming under his eyes.

The doctor stared at John's cast and then turned to the nurse. "I want a new x-ray of that wrist." He spun and pushed his way through the curtain. She watched the doctor leave and raised her eyebrows at John.

"Never a please or thank you with that one," she grumped.

Two hours later, John was back in his bed and feeling antsy. He wanted out of the hospital. He felt fine.

The wait wasn't long until the doctor showed up again. He looked even worse than before. The grey under his eyes was much more pronounced. He didn't bother with any pleasantries this time. "The breaks we saw in the initial x-ray appear to be well on their way to healing in the new one. The two smaller fractures... seem almost completely healed. You're further along than I expected, but I'm going to ask you to keep the cast on for another week. Come back then, and we'll take another look. Quite frankly, you're healing everywhere faster than I was expecting. As you just came out of the coma, I'm going to keep you in tonight for observation, but if all goes well, I'm going to discharge you tomorrow morning."

"That's great!" John said with a smile, then looked closer at the doctor. "Are you okay? You really look like you could use some sleep!"

The doctor just stared at him, then flung back the curtain as he left. The nurse was right; he had an awful bedside manner. John wished he could go home right now as he felt fine, but better safe than sorry.

The next morning, the nurse arrived with some papers for him to sign, some slightly worn scrubs as his clothes had been cut away, and a large paper bag with his belongings. His small courier bag was in the paper bag, and it contained his cell phone with a dead battery, wallet, keys, and a paperback he'd been reading. His shoes were also in the paper bag, minus the laces, which had probably been cut off. He got dressed, and an orderly wheeled him to the door. It was nine AM Sunday morning, and he was free.

It sucked that his commuter bike was gone. It hadn't been anything fancy, but it had been a dependable means of transportation. Once he could afford to replace his helmet, he supposed he could ride his old beat-up mountain bike to work. It was heavy as an anchor, but it moved.

A quick look in his wallet confirmed that his funds were at an all-time low. If it hadn't been for his job's limited health plan, he would have been royally screwed by this recent visit to the hospital. This meant he was bussing it home wearing the drafty scrubs.

He walked down the lane towards the bus stop and was surprised to see a familiar face. Deron Clarke, his boss from the bookstore, was standing on the sidewalk, leaning against his minivan. The large man who obviously hit the gym frequently gave John an exasperated look as he shook his head, his mane of dreadlocks swinging gently.

"So, he's less dead than we all thought!" the big Jamaican growled with his thick accent as he took in the loose-fitting and insufficiently warm outfit that John was shivering in. He stepped aside and opened the passenger door of his ride.

"Deron, what are you doing here?" John said, surprised and pleased to see him. He hadn't realized just how cool the day was, and the warmth inside the van was truly welcome.

Deron got in his side and turned to glare at his employee. "Last night, Mr. Sass poked his head in the shop's door and told me where you were and when you'd be getting out. That's the first time he's ever spoken to me. You know, you're the only one he talks to? Now, can you explain why you disappeared for a week without a word, and I have to find out you're in a hospital from the old man who sleeps in the alley behind my shop?"

John blinked in surprise. Mr. Sass had gone above and beyond for him. He didn't know what to make of that. He didn't know what to make of the tears he'd seen either. He pulled his scattered thoughts together and addressed the man waiting for an answer.

"I'm really sorry about that. I was riding home from my shift last Saturday night when I was hit by a car. I went over the hood and, apparently, landed on my head. The doctor told me I was in a coma all week. I just woke up yesterday, and Mr. Sass was there. I have a broken wrist, but otherwise, I feel fine."

"Coma! Shit! Okay, that excuse just saved you from having your ass fired. Let's get you home," Deron said, starting the van.

"I really appreciate this! They cut my clothes off when they brought me in, including my leather jacket." He looked around the van and spotted the two baby seats in the back. "How are Jeannie and the twins?"

Deron burst into a wide smile as he always did when talking about the loves of his life. "They are wonderful! Jeannie made me my favorite breakfast this morning before I came to get you, and the girls gave me hugs and kisses on my way out the door. Family is everything! Oh, sorry." Deron's smile slipped away when he recalled John was an orphan.

"No, it's cool! I live vicariously through you, so please don't feel shy about telling me how blissful your life is," John grinned.

Deron smiled back. That was another reason he kept John on the payroll. The man could dish it out with the best of them. His frown came back. "You really had us worried this week. You never miss a shift, so we were all a little freaked out by the third day. You weren't answering your phone, your charming landlady said she hadn't seen you, and with your name, calling the police was a joke. You should seriously think about adding something to make it unique, like John Doe, Jr. Or John Doe, Esquire. And how did Mr. Sass find you? That hospital isn't exactly in the neighborhoods he typically haunts."

John smiled as he knew his name was an issue, but it was the only thing he had from his birth mother. There'd been a lovely hand-written note pinned to his baby blanket when he was left at the orphanage. "My son's name is John Doe. He is special. Protect him to the best of your abilities." He wasn't sure what the part about being special and needing protection was about. Likely just Mom stuff. He put that memory away and returned to the present.

"I'm not sure how he found me. I woke up, and he was just there. Past visiting hours too. Somehow, he got past the nurse's station without being seen. In and out. Strange old man but nice. Really nice of him to tell you where I was too. I'll have to thank him when I see him tomorrow."

"Did the doctor tell you it was okay to go back to work?" Deron asked.

"Yeah, I just have to go back in a week to get another wrist x-ray. Maybe they'll take the cast off then," he replied.

"Wishful thinking, my friend," Deron chuckled. He'd broken his arm in high school, and he knew how long he'd had to suffer with that damn itchy cast. He smiled to himself as he drove them into John's neighborhood.

John turned his head to look out the window, feeling the sun's warmth soaking into his skin. He watched the familiar houses and streets passing by, and with that recognition came the contentment of knowing he was going home. This feeling was particularly special to him.

When they stopped in front of the quaint bungalow, its main occupant, his landlady Anna Harrison, could be seen watching them from inside the big living room window. She stepped out onto the porch and gestured for them to come inside. John would have preferred to go straight into his basement apartment and put on some real clothes, but he knew better than refusing the woman's request.

Reading the hesitation in John's body, Deron grinned and, with a hand resting gently on his shoulder, guided him up the steps and followed him inside. They settled side by side on the couch in the immaculately decorated living room as she went off to the kitchen to get the tea service. The men shared a glance and a smile. Moments later, the tray was on the coffee table before them, and the delicious aroma of the tea and warm tea biscuits wafted up to their delighted noses.

John had been living in the basement apartment of Anna's bungalow for around four years, and the two of them had clicked right from the start. They'd learned some details of each other's lives during that time. She'd been married to a wonderful man for thirty-six years and spent each of them living in this house. They had no kids, so they took trips together and traveled to exotic places. Their love for each other had been deep, complete, and unshakable. Then cancer suddenly took her husband, and she was left alone with only his pension and the house.

At fifty-four years of age, she took her passion for yoga and landed her first job at a studio where she taught classes. She used some of that money to build an apartment in the basement of her house to help augment her income, and John was her first and only tenant.

She was a stickler for punctuality, order, and good manners, which fit him as he suffered from the same obsessions. From her years of study in Yoga, she was a deeply spiritual person, in tune with her place in the cosmos and open to things for which John's pragmatic attitude made his eyes roll. They'd had many friendly battles over his willful blindness and her naïve gullibility. This difference wasn't something that pushed them apart, however. Instead, it brought them closer together as each felt a need to protect the other from their weakness.

She wasn't one of those touchy-feely spiritualists. Hers was more of an intellectual openness. She wasn't a casual toucher, which matched John's attitude perfectly.

He knew the tea ritual his landlady preferred, so he carefully poured the hot beverage into the delicate cups and presented one to her and one to Deron before taking his own. They all took a few civilized sips then the statuesque, white-haired woman settled herself more comfortably in her overstuffed chair and addressed him.

"Mr. Clarke graciously called me last night to tell me he'd be bringing you home today. You've given us all a fright. What happened?" Her voice was warm and clear, but John heard a slight tremor. She normally kept her emotions to herself, but it was obvious to him that she was upset.

"I'm very sorry to have caused any distress. Last Saturday night, on my way home, I was hit by a car that ran a red light, and I landed on my head. My helmet took the brunt of the landing, but I was in a coma all week. I just woke up last night." Seeing the color drain from her face, he concluded quickly. "But the only damage I have now is this broken wrist, and it's really not too bad."

"You were hit by a car?" she gasped. Her pale blue eyes got a little glassy which prompted John to rush ahead to head off the tears.

"Actually, it was more that I ran into the car when it suddenly got in front of me. I flew over the hood and had a bit of a bumpy landing, but I'm fine now. The doctor said all is good, and he just wants me back in a week to check my wrist," he smiled at the woman reassuringly.

Visibly shaken and struggling to regain her composure, Mrs. Harrison picked up a biscuit, and the men followed suit. They were delicious, and they enjoyed the warm, softness of the baked treats. She made the best tea biscuits John had ever tasted. He complimented her baking prowess once more, and Deron agreed, taking the opportunity to boast of his wife's delicious meals. Once their cups were empty and the small talk was done, Deron thanked the woman for the tea and snack and indicated he had to head home as he'd promised to take his family to the park.

After Deron left, John carried the tea service into the kitchen and hand washed the delicate cups.

"Anna, I'm so sorry for causing you any worry. Thank you again for the tea and biscuit. I think I'm going to head downstairs and take a nap. I guess I'm still a little worn out from the past week."

She stood in the kitchen doorway, looking a little lost. "Would it be inappropriate to ask for a hug?"

John was surprised by the normally reserved woman's request but managed to keep it from his face. "Not at all, considering the circumstances. It'd be nice." He stepped up to the woman with open arms and suddenly found himself crushed against her chest. He'd forgotten how strong the six-foot yoga master was. His smaller five-foot-eight frame brought his face closer to her soft cleavage than he was comfortable with, but he did his best to return the hug until he felt her collect herself. They released mutually, and she did seem more at ease as she gave him a gentle smile.

"You'll be upstairs for dinner at six?" she asked.

"Yes, that would be great! Thank you," he smiled with a nod and went out the back door to reach the stairs down to his apartment.

Sunday dinners had become a tradition with John and Anna. He wasn't much of a socializer and typically stuck around his apartment on the weekends working on his writing. Anna missed making Sunday dinners for her husband and noticed John seemed to be available. The first invitation was a big success, so after a few more, they decided to make it a fixed calendar event. John missed the last one as he'd been in a coma, but he was sure she'd forgive him for that.

He smelled of her light, flowery perfume, and the scrubs he'd been given made him a little uncomfortable, so he took a quick shower, careful to keep his cast poked outside the curtain. Once he dried himself, another awkward task with the plaster on his arm, he pulled on some soft pajama bottoms. He set his alarm to give himself time to get properly dressed for dinner and dropped into bed. The bliss of being in his own bed helped him drift off almost immediately.

Chapter 2

Taking the bus felt... odd. John always cycled to work, but with no commuter bike, no helmet, and a cast on his left wrist, he'd have to ride public transit for a little while at least.

He carried a lunch of leftovers from the delicious meal Anna cooked for them last night. They slipped right back into the comfortable company they'd been for the past four years. He recalled their conversation with a grin as he'd tried to shock a smile out of her, but she'd immediately put him in his place.

"So, when will you get back out there and date?" he asked cheekily.

Anna's eyes snapped to his, and a small smile slipped onto her lips. "What makes you think I haven't already?"

"Really? That's good!" It was his turn to smile in surprise.

"Look at you! You're actually shocked!" Anna scolded him playfully.

"I'm just wondering where you fit that into your busy schedule," John said, just a little defensively.

Anna nodded as she gave him a knowing look showing him she wasn't buying it. "After work, the girls and I sometimes go out for a drink. Occasionally, men work up the nerve to ask if they can buy me one. I've gone on dates. I've even bedded a few." She smiled in delight when John's face blushed. Then she shook her head in bewilderment. "They're always so surprised to discover I'm sixty. They get so hung up on the numbers." She rolled her eyes, then smiled at him as she sighed. "Anyway, the dates are just for fun. I'm not looking for Mr. Right. I was already married to him."

John smiled at Anna. She was the most level-headed and centered person he knew, and she never failed to amaze him.

Anna's face became serious, and she glanced at him before continuing. "John, I-I just wanted you to know how greatly I value our friendship. Your near brush with death really shook me up. I want to apologize for my earlier outburst... if it made you uncomfortable."

John looked at the woman and saw she was still a little unsettled. He smiled at her and saw her relax a little. "I appreciate your friendship just as much, and in no way did you make me feel uncomfortable." She smiled in return.

He held her gaze. "I want you to know that I fully intend to keep cycling to work. When I can afford to replace my bike and helmet, that is. It's just part of who I am. I'll be a little more cautious in the future, but I can't make any guarantees that it won't happen again."

She nodded her acceptance, and they moved on to talk of other things as they enjoyed the delicious food she'd made.

Dinner lasted for three hours as they found topic after topic to discuss. But soon, they were both yawning. They cleared up the dishes together, bid each other good night, and went their separate ways to sleep off the wonderful meal.

As he had to take the bus, John left before Anna was even awake, so he didn't see her as he hustled off to get to the stop on time. Getting to work would take a little longer, but he did get a seat, at least.

Soon enough, he was exiting the bus and making his way up the street to Century Traveler, the bookstore he worked at. It was an older, two-story brick building, painted black and standing just slightly apart from the other shops on the street. On its roof was a large, dual billboard shaped like a V. It looked like a sail to him. He smiled as he liked to imagine the building was a sturdy ship, traveling the seas in its quest to collect rare items.

As he got closer, he spotted Mr. Sass sitting in his usual spot nursing a hot cup of coffee. He walked up and smiled at the man.

"Good morning, Mr. Sass," he said.

The old man took a sip from his coffee before replying. "Good morning to you, Mr. Doe." There was a slight stiffness to his voice this morning, and John recalled the tears he'd seen in the man's eyes when he'd left. It made him feel a little uncomfortable as he hadn't really opened up to that level with the gentleman. It usually took John a long time to get to know people. Especially those who weren't in his presence every day. Opening up was something he really wasn't good at. His landlady was a rare exception, though she was as reserved as he was, so he knew what to expect from her. She was almost a reflection of him in a sense.

"I wanted to thank you for letting my boss know where I was. And for looking in on me. I'm not sure how you found me... but I'm grateful."

"Hey, no big deal, right?" Mr. Sass responded, looking into his coffee.

It was the answer John was hoping for, but for some reason, it felt wrong. "Right... okay... well, have a good day," he finished, feeling awkward.

He pulled open the door and saw Deron starting up the systems at the cashier's station.

"Good morning, Deron. Sorry, I'm late. Taking the bus now," he said with a grin.

"I'm docking you for the four minutes, and if you give me any lip about it, I'll tack on the week you missed!" Deron scolded him with a twinkle in his eye.

"John! Where you been, man! Whoa, check out the cast! Were you in a fight? We should see the other guy, am-I-right? Wait! Did you kill someone and had to hide out? Are the Feds after you?" Franklin Cho peppered him with questions the moment he spotted him. The diminutive twenty-three-year-old Korean American had an ultra-fast mouth but very little control of what came out of it. Whatever popped into his overactive imagination just came gushing out with no filter. Much to the dismay of his co-workers.

"Nah, nothing that exciting. Just a little traffic accident," John replied. When he turned back to continue to the staff room, he had to stop suddenly as another co-worker was standing directly in front of him. Satomi Kimura was a recent transplant from Japan, and she was three years younger than John and three inches taller. So much for the stereotype of petite Japanese girls. She was tall and rail slim, but nature played a strange prank on her by overcompensating for her stature by giving her a chest of prodigious proportions. Franklin was in awe of the girl and, given the opportunity, would unleash terrible poetry singing her praises... but mostly about her breasts.

Satomi was currently barring his way to the staff room, and her face was a delightful shade of pink from embarrassment. She wasn't bold by nature, so there must have been something she wanted to say.

"Uh, good morning, Satomi," he began when he was engulfed in a sudden and fierce hug. He had to admit being crushed up against her felt very good, and her hair smelled terrific! Considering the long black tresses were now covering his face.

"Aww, you lucky bastard! I'm going to jump into traffic to get one of those too!" Franklin lamented.

Satomi pulled back as suddenly as she'd grabbed him, and he noticed her face had shifted from pink to deep red. "So pleased you are well." She spun and disappeared into the stacks before he could respond.

Confusion plain on his face, John glanced over to see Deron's smirk and ignored the jealous daggers from Franklin's eyes. He continued on into the staff room, where the second-to-last member of the staff was putting her lunch in the fridge. Melanie Singh, who everyone called Mel, looked up from the fridge door and smiled at him.

"Welcome back, John!" she said. Her Delhi roots were clear in the lilt of her voice, and John could listen to her speak all day. He'd often make excuses to swing by her desk just to make small talk and try to impress her with some bit of trivia he thought she might be interested in. She'd listen with a look of bemusement and casually dismiss him when he was done. He really did have a thing for accents.

"Good morning, Mel! Is everything okay with Satomi? She seems a little... uh, emotional this morning," he asked.

"Doy! How can someone so smart be so dumb?" she snapped.

"You think I'm smart?" he said with a grin.

"And you have selective hearing. Did you miss the part about being so dumb? Yes, of course, you did. Men. Hmmph!" the princess snorted as she walked out into the store with her nose in the air.

During their last team-building evening, they went to a Karaoke bar. Franklin drunkenly remarked that Deron was obviously hiring based on how closely the women resembled Disney princesses. He described to them which ones Satomi, Mel, and Kelly, their tech person, matched. Everyone argued that the resemblances were tenuous at best, but the term princess really did suit Mel, and it kind of stuck... not that they dared say it in her presence.

He put his lunch in the fridge and got to work.

Century Traveler was widely known as the place to go to get your hands on rare and difficult to obtain books. If it had been printed, they would find it and, if possible, broker a deal to get the item into the hands of their customers. They had a network of contacts and connections and kept abreast of the slow ebb and flow of rare books through the market.

They also had an awesome selection of independently published fiction. Most were digital, available only through their website, but some authors placed orders for printed copies to be created, and they had a service for that. This odd mix seemed to generate enough interest to allow them to thrive in a market slowly being devoured by the digital age.

To assist them in their efforts, Kelly was their technical guru. She was their New Media and IT Departments combined, maintaining their website, managing their self-publishing program, and ensuring they remained connected to the Internet to source the books their customers requested. Red hair tied back in a thick ponytail, glasses perched on the tip of her freckled nose, her green eyes peered into the depths of the code running their website. She would be found upstairs at this time of day, pouring over the logs of the overnight maintenance tasks or ensuring the incoming request were free of Viagra ads and other spam. She'd be down for Deron's review at ten, and John would say hello to her then.

Working with the cast proved to be difficult and tiring. The weight was aggravating, and his typing accuracy was totally messed up. Everything took longer. When ten rolled around, he was ready for the break. His left bicep was cramping, and he realized that he really should make an effort to put more muscle on his slim frame.

There was an area near the front of the store for the staff to gather for stand-up meetings while maintaining a watch on the customers. This morning was especially quiet, and they had the store to themselves.

By habit, everyone took their usual spots, Deron leaning back against the front of the cashier's desk, Franklin to his right, and Satomi to his left. John stood next to the digital upload workstation nearest the front door, and Mel stood opposite him, leaning against the end of the stacks. It was roughly a circle, and Kelly completed it as she came down the stairs to stand opposite Deron.

The redhead looked over at John and smiled. "Hey! Welcome back! How was the vacay?"

The rest of the team, aside from John, groaned.

"What? What did I miss?" she asked. Her ability to tightly focus on her work was as legendary as her inability to follow the day-to-day activities around her.

Deron raised his hands, and they settled down. "Kelly, we discussed this last week. John wasn't on vacation. I'm going to let him explain his foolish activities himself. John, the floor is yours."

"Uh, thanks. Okay, uh, while riding my bike home last Saturday night after my shift, I was hit by a car. For the past week, I was in a coma at the Oregon State Hospital, and I came out of it on Saturday evening." Smiles were instantly replaced with gasps and shocked expressions.

"Dude! What the fuck are you doing here today? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, resting or something?" Franklin exclaimed.

"Swear jar," Deron said. Growling under his breath, Franklin pulled a dollar out of his wallet and stuffed it into the half-full jar on the front counter labeled tips.

"The doctor said I was fine aside from my broken wrist," John said, glancing over at Satomi, who was seriously tearing up. "I'm fine, really!" He looked to Mel desperately for some guidance on what to say to calm the girl down, but she just glared at him for his apparent insensitivity.

Mel walked over to Satomi and handed her a tissue. She rubbed her shoulder and murmured something to the young woman, who nodded. Then she returned to her spot against the stacks, where she gave John a disdainful look and turned her face away. The term Princess never fit her as well as it did right then.

Deron took control of the meeting once more and ran through the routine question-and-answer period. The gathering dispersed quickly, and Satomi disappeared into the stacks before John could apologize for whatever he did to make her cry. Mel avoided him as well. He had no idea what he'd done wrong, and Franklin's commiseration by way of saying 'Chicks, man!' wasn't that helpful either. John went back to his desk and pulled up the requests Kelly had assigned to him. It felt good to busy himself with something he understood.

Once the day ended, he slipped out and headed to the bank. A quick look at his account confirmed he was broke. He wasn't desperate as he had funds for rent, food, and transit but replacing his commuter bike was looking like it was a long while off. Even affording a new helmet would take a few weeks, at minimum. Riding the old beater mountain bike he'd found and did his best to fix up was going to have to wait too.

He slipped into a routine of work-eat-sleep and the week went by relatively quickly. Mel and Satomi continued to give him the cold shoulder, so work wasn't as pleasant as it used to be, but he really didn't know what to do about that.

John visited the doctor with the bad bedside manner on Friday evening, and they determined he no longer needed the cast. He was delighted. While he wouldn't be riding his bike, he still planned to go for a hike this Sunday up in the woods. With the heavy cast gone, all the better!

He made one final attempt on his Saturday shift to make peace with the girls by inviting them to hike with him the next day, but neither showed any interest. Well, he'd tried.

The weather on Sunday was perfect for a walk through the woods. The air was crisp, the sky was cloudless, and John felt really good. He'd shaken off the effects of his brush with death and felt like a new man. While he was still a little upset by how uncomfortable his work situation had become, he vowed not to think about it this fine morning.

Anna had gotten up early as she was flying to Las Vegas for two days to attend a seminar. It was a break in their Sunday tradition, but they'd shared breakfast instead and then went their separate ways.

He took transit to the park entrance at the edge of town. A few joggers and mountain bikers were enjoying the beautiful weather, and he shared smiles with them as they passed. Everyone seemed to be feeling good.

A couple of miles into his hike, he noticed a little-used side trail he hadn't explored before. Checking his map, he saw that it ran along the ridgeline and was much longer than he'd planned for today's hike. Instead of turning back to the main trail, he found himself pushing through the overgrown brush at the side trail's entrance. Surprised by his own daring, he grinned and continued onward. As it was a less-traveled route, he got to enjoy the solitude.

He was slightly out of breath by the time he finished the climb to the top of the ridge. He paused, looking at the forest surrounding him and soaking in the solitude. It felt like he was completely immersed in nature, which was the feeling he was hoping today's hike would bring.

He was rewarding himself with a drink from his water bottle when he heard, or rather felt, an odd rumbling. He lowered the bottle, and standing in the woods to his right was a huge black wolf with gold eyes. John froze. The wolf's growling, which was so deep it barely registered as sound, was the vibration he'd felt. The beast's lower jaw slowly dropped, drool dripping from its huge teeth. There was something off about its eyes. Intelligence and madness were behind its stare, and a chill went through John's spine.

Before he could decide what to do next, the wolf suddenly surged forward, and John instinctively leaped backward, stepping completely off the ridge. His heels hit some branches, and he started tumbling down the steep hillside, picking up speed as he crashed through the small trees clinging to what had become a cliff face. He came to an abrupt stop when he slammed down onto something soft.

Completely dazed, he heard a savage growl and felt teeth rip into his right shoulder and shake him. He screamed in agony as the torn flesh of his shoulder felt like it burst into flames. The intense heat quickly flowed down into his chest as he yanked himself away, rolling to the left. He struggled to his feet, but his head swam, and he fell to his knees, retching onto the forest floor. He couldn't see the flames, but they seemed to lick at his nerves all over his body.

His mind kept screaming to pay attention to the wolf, but his body began shutting down. He collapsed back against the side of the pit he'd fallen into. The terrible heat that had started in his shoulder now raced throughout his entire body, and he gasped once more before passing out.

Sometime later, he awoke with a jolt and found himself leaning back against the steep-sided pit facing a big man lying on his back in the leaves. The man's face was grey, but he was still breathing. Then John noticed the handle of... some kind of knife sticking out of the man's side. Wincing in pain from the wound on his shoulder, John sat up and made his way over to him on his knees and one arm. His right arm hung useless and numb from the shoulder down. He worried about the damage the wolf had done to him, then nervously looked around, suddenly remembering it might still be there.

He realized he was in a roughly circular pit. There was no sign of the beast. The forest was quiet aside from the normal sounds of nature. Once he was sure the wolf was no longer around, he checked the man's pulse as he'd seen it done on TV. There was a faint and slow pulse under his fingertips. Really slow.

The man was big. Easily a couple of inches over six feet and really broad in the shoulders. Distinguished silver hair and strong chiseled jawline. He wore old-school hiking gear and a cable knit sweater that had visibly soaked up a lot of his blood around the knife wound. He might have been wealthy based on the chunky Rolex on his wrist and a few expensive-looking rings on his fingers.

The man's eyes fluttered open and peered up at his face. Then they dropped to John's ripped shoulder, and a strange look of anguish passed over his rugged features.

"Hey, hang in there! I'll call for help!" John said, struggling to get at his cellphone with his left hand.

"No! No time... left for me," the man said, and his voice was almost as deep as the wolf's low rumble.

"You're still alive! Hang in there," John argued.

"I said NO!" the injured man growled, and John froze again. He looked down at the struggling man.

"I'm so sorry. It was my intention to take... it with me. We were both... supposed to die here, but I should have known... it would find a way to live." The man struggled to speak as he looked deeply into John's eyes.

The fine hairs on the back of John's neck were all standing on end as there was something seriously off. "You probably shouldn't speak. You look like you've lost a lot of blood," John mumbled. He was distinctly uncomfortable by the intensity of the man's gaze, and he noticed the blood was still slowly seeping from the knife wound with each breath. There was dried blood on and around the man's mouth, and it stained his otherwise perfect teeth.

Something clicked in John's mind. A memory suddenly surfaced and became clearer. Falling, tumbling through the trees above, then a short time of freefall to land there on the leaves next to the man. Then the savage attack. He stole a look at his bloody shoulder.

"You... YOU DID THIS!" John shouted.

"Yes," the man admitted quietly, eyes downcast with shame.

"WHY DID YOU BITE ME?" John cried as he shook with rage. It felt like his emotions were beginning to slip out of his control.

The man looked up into his eyes again, and John felt the compassion pouring from them. "I'm so sorry, but the wolf wanted to live, and I'd lost too much blood to fight it off."

"Wolf!?" John was confused. His memory of the wolf on the ridgeline above was becoming hazy while the events of what happened in this pit were seared in his mind. He felt his face flushing with anger.

"Listen... I'm not going to last... much longer... You won't... be able to... control it. You have to take this." The dying man pulled a narrow but ornate ring from the ring finger on his right hand. "It will help. I freely... transfer it to... your keeping. May it bring... you peace." He suddenly grabbed John's numb right hand and pushed the ring onto his ring finger. John howled in agony when the movement yanked at his injured shoulder, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the ground, unconscious once more.

The haunting howl echoed throughout the woods.

Chapter 3

For the second time in two weeks, John woke to the sound of steady beeping.

On the edge of consciousness, his mind fled from the dream state, his short-term memory fading as he surfaced. Before he completely forgot, he caught a flash of a dream of the soothing clouds once more. Then it was gone.

John opened his eyes and looked down the bed, expecting to see Mr. Sass. Maybe the whole week had been a dream? Nobody was at the foot of his bed, and the curtain was drawn, so he couldn't see if he was in the same hospital or not.

He looked to his left, and sure enough, there was a glass of water with a bendy straw. He tried to reach for it with his left hand, but the arm only got so far before it stopped with a clattering noise. He looked down at his wrist and saw he was handcuffed to the bedrail. Handcuffs?

On his right side was the nurse's buzzer but his right arm was in some kind of sling, and he couldn't move it without a lot of pain. His only resort was to call out.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" he called out weakly. No one was going to hear that. He gathered his strength. "HEY!" He sagged back and wondered if the nurse's station was at the far end of the ward.

The curtain pulled back, and a police officer looked in on him. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi. Are these yours?" John asked, gently rattling the handcuffs.

The officer just nodded. John's eyebrows went up. "Any particular reason I'm wearing them?"

"I'll get Detective Molina," was the reply, and the officer closed the curtain.

John was truly confused. Hopefully, this detective would have some answers.

Twenty minutes later, John was coming to the end of his patience when the curtain was pulled back, and a short bear of a man pushed his way into the space. He was Hispanic and dark-skinned with short black hair in one of those no-nonsense, no-style cuts. He wasn't a particularly handsome man, but his eyes were keenly intelligent, and his movements suggested he had some serious muscles under that ugly brown suit. He pulled a chair behind him and walked right up to the left side of the bed.

"Hello, I'm Detective Luis Molina. I'm investigating the circumstances surrounding the death of Mr. Wallace Laroche. You are..." he looked at his notes, and his thick black brows went up. "John Doe? Seriously?"

John had been dealing with this particular harassment his entire life, so it didn't rile him anymore. "Yes, it's my legal name. No, I didn't change it. It was the name they registered for me at the orphanage. Who is Wallace Laroche?"

"So, you're saying you don't know Mr. Laroche?" the detective responded.

"I don't know a Wallace Laroche... wait, is that the big guy in the pit I fell into?"

"Was the guy. He's dead. Bled out from the knife wound. He died slowly, must've taken hours. When did you meet him?" Molina asked.

"This morning, probably around ten AM. Wait! What's the date?" John asked, recalling his week-long stay in the hospital the previous week.

"It's Sunday evening, the fourteenth," the detective said with a frown.

"Ah, good! Good," he sighed in relief, then continued. "Yeah, it was this morning when I went for a hike in the woods. I was walking along the ridgeline trail, and I stopped at the top for water. I saw this big freaking wolf on the trail next to me, and I jumped to get away, fell down the hillside, and landed in the pit next to a big man, and he bit me!" John tried pointing to his right shoulder with his cuffed left hand.

Molina shook his head. "The wolf bit you."

"That's what I thought, at first. When it happened, it was a terrible stabbing pain that burned like crazy. I guess I passed out. When I came to, I saw the big guy lying on his back with the knife's handle sticking up out of him. There was a lot of blood on his sweater, but he was breathing. When I checked his pulse, he woke up. He took one look at my shoulder and apologized for biting me. It was him! He bit me!" John asserted.

Luis Molina sat looking at John with a blank look on his face. "Did Mr. Laroche say anything else to you?"

John frowned and tried to remember. His memories felt so fragmented from the event. "Uh, I told him I would call for help, but when I tried to get my phone out, he got angry and told me there wasn't time. He told me he was sorry, that he had intended to take the wolf with him when he died. Did he have a pet wolf? I didn't understand anything he was saying at that point, but he had a knife in him, and he'd bitten me. I recall that. Then he grabbed my right arm, and the pain was excruciating. I guess I passed out again."

The curtain whipped open, and John's favorite doctor stepped in. He stopped to look at the detective and then stepped around to the opposite side of the bed to check the dressings on John's bandage.

"Hey, doc! Long time, no see!" John quipped, trying to get a response from the man.

Detective Molina looked at the doctor. "You know Mr. Doe?"

The doctor grimaced and turned to the detective. "Mr. Doe was admitted to the hospital two weeks ago after being involved in a hit-and-run. He had a badly broken left wrist, severe lacerations on his left hip, and a head trauma coma. After six days, he came out of the coma, his lacerations had healed, and he was released on the seventh. He just had the cast removed two days ago as there was no sign of the break in his x-rays. He heals very quickly."

He turned back to John and peeled the bandage on his shoulder back with quick, precise motions, which did nothing to alleviate the pain it caused. John hissed and felt a little woozy once the bandage was open.

Molina looked over and got a good look at the wound. "Geezus! That's a fucking mess! Mr. Doe just informed me that he was bitten by a man. Can you verify that by the wound?" he asked.

The doctor looked at John and frowned. "No human mouth made this wound. He was bitten, quite badly, by some form of large canine. See here." He pointed to two rows of puncture wounds, and the detective leaned in for a better look. "You can almost see the shape of the jaw by the spacing of the punctures. It was really big, and its teeth were very long and sharp. The ripping you see further up here-" he tugged the bandage a little higher, and John's eyes rolled back, and he began to growl deep in his chest. The men leaning over John froze instinctively, and the hairs on Molina's neck stood on end.

The doctor carefully eased the bandages back in place, and the growling stopped. John's eyes were closed, and he appeared to be unconscious. The two men looked at each other, and Molina grinned, embarrassed to have been intimidated by the small unconscious man. The doctor continued to frown.

"I'm going to have to keep him here for observation to ensure he hasn't gotten rabies. I would very much like to find the dog that did this."

"He said he saw a wolf," Molina said.

"A wolf? Yes, that makes sense. It would explain the pattern of the puncture marks and the severity of the damage done. His right shoulder was dislocated. I'll check the x-ray again for signs of fractures," the doctor concluded and left.

Detective Molina sat back in the chair and looked at the sleeping man before him. He rubbed his neck to get the hairs to settle down and relax.

So, Mr. Doe was having a run of bad luck. He'd look into the traffic accident to see if there was any connection to Wallace Laroche. If it had been Laroche driving the car that hit him, maybe Doe stabbed him for revenge?

Molina frowned.

Nah, even thinking about it, Molina felt the wrongness of the idea. Aside from the growl, he didn't pick up any dangerous vibes from the kid. He must have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that wouldn't stop Molina from confirming his story to rule him out as a suspect.

Chapter 4

In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, John woke from a blissfully soothing, deep sleep when he felt someone slip through the curtain next to his bed. He cracked his eyes open to see Mr. Sass settling into a chair next to his bed in the dim lights of the night ward.

"We're making a habit of meeting like this," he said quietly to the old man, who froze momentarily.

"If you could learn to avoid putting yourself in danger, we wouldn't have to," the man said in an equally quiet voice.

"I must have left my magic eight ball in my other hiking pants," John grumbled sarcastically.

"What happened this time?" Mr. Sass got right to the point.

John sighed and put his thoughts in order. "I was hiking in the forest. I saw a wolf. I fell down a steep ridge into a pit and almost landed on a dying man who had a knife stuck in him. I was savagely bitten on my right shoulder so badly that it became dislocated. The police are questioning me about the man's death, but I think they know I didn't do it. Though they left me this lovely bracelet while they confirm that." He lifted his left hand up a little and gently rattled the handcuff.

"Would you like out of those?" Mr. Sass asked casually.

John blinked at the old man. "No... it's cool. I think I'd prefer to play it straight this time. Thanks, though." He received a shrug in return.

"So, when do you get out of here?" the gentleman continued.

"Well, the doctor did some tests on me for rabies, but so far, I'm good. I think he might release me today or tomorrow. Hopefully, Detective Molina will have ruled me out as a suspect, so I can get on with my crazy life. Fingers crossed."

"Molina? He's a good man," Mr. Sass nodded.

"You know him?" John asked in surprise.

"By reputation only. Never met him," he answered quickly but looked away. John didn't press.

"You know, there hasn't been a wolf sighting in the woods near Portland in decades. Yet you find one to bite you," Mr. Sass said with evident skepticism.

"Yeah, so they tell me," John replied with a troubled expression.

"You don't think it was a wolf? Was it a big dog? A cougar?" Mr. Sass asked.

John was silent as he struggled with how to describe what he remembered and if he remembered it at all. Mr. Sass waited patiently.

John spoke slowly and kept tight control over his emotions. "What they tell me is that the bite on my shoulder came from a very large canine, most likely a wolf. I told them I saw a wolf, so they are going with that as it fits the evidence. Except, the more I think about what I saw and experienced that day, the more I start to question my grip on reality." He looked at Mr. Sass, but the man's expression was open and attentive as expected. John never felt like he was being judged when he spoke to the old man. It made conversations like this one possible. He'd never had anyone else in his life like him.

"When I recall the moments when I saw the wolf, they no longer feel... real. It's hard to describe exactly. It's like my brain is telling me it was a hoax, a fake, smoke and mirrors. At the time, up on that ridgeline, I was sure it was there. It felt so real I leaped away from it, right down the side of the cliff. But now..." John gritted his teeth and shook his head as he tried to rid himself of the image.

"When I landed in the pit, I was attacked. I remember the agony of teeth ripping into my shoulder, shaking me violently, and the shock of how strong my attacker was. I recall the crushing grip of hands on my arms. It was savage but quick, and when it was over, I passed out. I found the man was still alive when I came to, and I spoke with him. He saw the wound and apologized for biting me and... I remembered.

The doctor and the detective tell me I was attacked by a wolf, but my memories say it was the man. The evidence says it couldn't have been him, and he was almost dead. The bite on my shoulder shows it wasn't human teeth that bit me. But my mind won't stop telling me it was him." Tears were streaming down John's face as he struggled with the images in his head.

Tears were falling from the old man's eyes too. He pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket and used one to dry John's face. Then he used his handkerchief on his own.

"I've had my own battles with contradictory memories. I still have some I can't reconcile. But what's helped me is to accept them for what they are. Real or not, they're how your mind chose to preserve the moment. Fighting to change memories brings confusion and pain. I've learned to accept that some of my memories may be false. Move forward and don't dwell on the conflict. It may resolve one day. Or not. Either way, it doesn't have to define you." He reached out with both hands and took John's left hand as he put the pack of tissues in it.

"Listen, I have to leave before the police officer returns from the supply closet where he and the night duty nurse are having a little fun. I'll check in with you tomorrow if you're still here. Otherwise, I'll see you at the shop. Rest. Be well," Mr. Sass whispered as he slipped out through the curtain.

John was grateful for the old man's visit. He felt so much better for having spoken with him. Being able to tell someone what was eating at his sanity without worrying about being locked away in the psych ward was a tremendous relief. He saw the look in his doctor's eye when the detective told him about his claim that he'd been bitten by Laroche. He'd have to be careful about what he said from this point on.

Looking down at the packet of tissues in his left hand made him chuckle softly. How did the old man expect him to use it when he was... shackled.

He lifted his left hand to his face and then glanced down.

The open handcuff rested on the mattress.

Chapter 5

Luis Molina sipped his bitter coffee as he walked through the hospital hallways. He'd had a productive morning. Firstly, he'd spoken with the forensic team, who informed him that the only prints on the wickedly sharp ceremonial dagger they found embedded in Wallace Laroche's lower abdomen belonged to Mr. Laroche. The weapon also apparently belonged to him. The team who examined the man's luxury condo in Seattle discovered the mate of the dagger in a display case next to an empty holder. Additionally, a luxury sedan registered to the deceased was found in a lot near one of the park's entrances. So far, the evidence was pointing to suicide but how Mr. Laroche chose to end his life left too many questions. The investigation would continue.

Second, he got the report on the hit and run. They got a shot of the car's plates from a red-light camera a block away from the accident scene. The vehicle had been stolen from a collector in northern California, and the thieves had been caught trying to cross the border into Canada. Apparently, they thought they'd killed the cyclist they hit and were making a run for it. So, no connection to Mr. Laroche.

Finally, he visited John Doe's landlady, who'd just returned from out of town this morning. She verified John's whereabouts from Saturday evening when he got home from work until Sunday morning and his timeline for leaving for his hike. She was a very nice lady, and he quite enjoyed the tea biscuit but passed on the tea.

Molina was satisfied that John Doe wasn't involved in the rich guy's death. He'd let the kid off the hook and send the officer back to regular duty.

As he turned the corner, he spotted his officer standing by the duty station chatting up the pretty nurse sitting there. While they didn't really need to sit by John's bedside since he was wearing the cuff, the officer should have been stationed by the ward entrance.

The scowl on Molina's face was warning enough. The duty nurse spotted it first as he approached and must have said something because the officer pivoted and began to fast talk excuses. Molina just held up his hand and pointed towards the wardroom. The officer fell in behind him as he walked down the aisle towards bed number eight.

Molina pulled open the curtain and was confronted with an empty bed. There, on the mattress, was the open cuff. The other end was still secured to the rail. He turned and glared at the officer, who seemed to be turning purple. Molina started back to the duty station to see if they could pull up any security footage of the room. Just then, the washroom door opened, and John Doe stepped out.

"Ah, good morning, detective!" the young man smiled. "No one came when I called out, I couldn't reach the call button, and I really had to use the bathroom. Sorry." He walked slowly back to his bed, obviously nursing his right arm in its sling.

"Shoulder still giving you trouble?" Molina asked.

"Yes, it still hurts like hell, but feeling is coming back into my arm, so I hope that's a good sign."

John carefully settled himself on the bed and tried to get comfortable. As he reached for the handcuff, Molina shook his head, unfastened the other end from the rail, and passed it to the red-faced officer.

"So, I've been cleared?" John asked.

"So far, yes. We'd like you to stay in the city until we've closed the investigation, but yeah," Molina said.

"That's great! Now all I have to do is get Doctor Smiley to sign off on releasing me," John said.

"That's Doctor Giamatto," grumped the doctor as he stepped in the curtain. "The handcuffs are gone, so I assume you won't be cluttering up my ward with your officers anymore?"

"Yes, doctor. We're done here for now," Molina said.

"Do you recall what the wound looked like when I pulled the bandage back the first time?" the doctor asked the detective.

"Yeah, it was a fucking mess," he replied, curious.

The doctor peeled back the gauze and looked back at Molina, who leaned forward in surprise.

Where the flesh had been shredded and raw, he now saw red, angry-looking skin. New skin where there had been rips and tears before. The punctures from the fangs were now white dots in different sizes.

"Holy shit!" Molina breathed.

"As I said, he heals faster than anyone I've ever seen. I'm glad I had someone else witness this. Mr. Doe, I would seriously like to study how your body recuperates from injuries," Giamatto said.

"So, I don't have rabies? I'm healing and healthy?" John asked.

"Rabies? No, I cleared you of that yesterday. You are remarkably healthy!" the doctor said.

"So... there's no reason to keep me here?" John pressed.

"Mr. Doe, I don't believe you understand how important this research could be," Giamatto frowned.

"Look, that's all well and good, but I have no interest in being a lab rat for medical experiments. Please sign my discharge papers." John turned to the detective. "I'm also glad you were here to witness this. I'd hate to disappear into the system, just another anonymous John Doe."

"I think you watch too many thrillers, Mr. Doe," the detective said with a tired smile.

"Maybe so, but my name does tend to make me think about those kinds of possibilities. Having no family also doesn't help," he replied with a grin of his own.

The doctor's frown deepened, and he ripped the curtain open as he left.

"Was that the equivalent of slamming a door?" John asked.

"Not a smart move to make your doctor unhappy," the detective suggested.

"Hmmm... probably wasn't. Let's see when he discharges me," he replied.

The detective and the officer left, and John sat back and waited.

-=-

The following morning John was standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital in worn scrubs again. Apparently, this time it was the police who had his clothes and his backpack. He didn't even have shoes to wear and was left with the stupid hospital slippers. He'd have to contact Detective Molina to get all his stuff back.

He'd had another nocturnal visit from Mr. Sass and had explained his current predicament. The old man assured him all would be well. And here he was. He didn't know what Mr. Sass had done, but John was sure he'd done something to expedite his release.

As he walked around the corner, he spotted a cab with a large sign in the side window with his name written on it. He tapped on the window, and it went down.

"Hi, I'm John Doe. Are you waiting to pick me up?"

The man looked at him cautiously, then shrugged. "Yes, I have a prepaid fare to take a John Doe to this address." He held up a small card with John's apartment address on it.

"Yeah, that's my place," John confirmed.

The cabbie gestured for him to get in the back.

Anna looked out the living room window when they pulled up to the house. She opened the front door as John climbed up the steps and entered. As he passed, she pulled her face away.

"Did they not wash you at the hospital?" she asked.

"What? Oh! I'm sorry. It must be my right arm. It's been in the sling for too long. The doctor and I had a little disagreement, and service kinda went downhill after that," John said.

"March yourself right into the kitchen, young man," she said with a firm, motherly tone.

He grinned and did as he was told. She sat him down at the kitchen table. Then she gathered a large bowl which she filled with warm water. Setting the bowl on the kitchen table next to him, she left the room for a minute and returned with a facecloth, towel, and a bar of soap. Anna undid the buckle on the sling's strap, and he rested his arm on the table while she peeled back the device. Next, she gently lifted his hospital scrub top upwards, pulled his left arm out, then his head, and slid the top down his right arm, doing her best to avoid bumping it.

John realized his arm wasn't as painful to move as it had been, and he definitely had way more sensation in his hand than he did even a day before.

Anna unwrapped a bit of gauze on his right hand and paused. "Oh John, that's a lovely ring! Where did you get that?"

Puzzled, he looked at his right hand and saw the ring. The memory of Laroche grabbing his right hand surged back into his mind. Suddenly, he was reliving the moment, complete with the pain. John leaped to his feet, knocking the chair over. He stumbled back until his back hit the door jamb. He held his right arm straight out from his body, and his wide eyes stared at the ring like it was attacking him. His breaths came in big gulps as he hissed between his clenched teeth. Distantly, he heard his name being called.

"John! What's wrong?" Anna had never seen him act like this, and she was afraid he would hurt himself. He seemed to be terrified of the ring. On impulse, she reached out and pulled the ring off his outstretched finger. Instantly John's eyes rolled up, and he dropped to his hands and knees, his head hanging down. His sandy blond hair started to darken as Anna watched in shock. Even the fine blond hairs on his arms shifted to black. He was breathing like a bellows, and when his hair went entirely black, she heard a low rumbling. It was coming from John. He was growling, and it was getting louder.

"John?" she gasped.

His head whipped up, and his eyes were gold! Worse, a stranger was behind them. His eyes were having difficulty tracking, but she prickled with fear when they locked on her. The look was completely feral. For the first time since she met him, she was afraid of the young man. She glanced at the ring in her hand and saw he was looking at it too. Maybe he wanted it back. She attempted to hand it back, but John snarled and swatted at her arm wildly, causing her to drop the ring. He tried to jump at her, but his limbs locked up, and he flopped down onto his face on the floor, where he twitched.

The twitching became thrashing, and she heard John's weak voice begging, "Please, the ring... put it... back on... can't hold it...." She heard the terror in his voice.

She looked for the ring desperately and saw it under the kitchen table. She crawled under and grabbed the jewelry when she felt his hand land on and grip her ankle. She screamed and spun around. The feral look was back, but he still didn't have much control over his limbs. With terrible strength, he started to pull her closer. The grip of his left hand was becoming painful, so she kicked back with her other foot, and her heel connected with his forehead. That seemed to daze him, and she broke his grip. Anna scrambled over his body, pinning him down, and grabbed his right hand, which she pulled up behind his back. The growl turned into a roar as he thrashed under her body. Anna wasn't a light woman, but he came close to tossing her from his back. She clung to him with her thighs and legs, using everything she had. The moment she got the ring over the first knuckle, the steam seemed to go out of John's body, and he relaxed under her. She pushed the ring all the way on. She watched in amazement as his hair faded from pitch black to his usual sandy blond.

She heard a new sound from the young man whose face was pressed against the tile floor under her body. He was crying. Soon it turned into big anguished sobs. Anna slid off his body and sat up. She pulled the limp man's head onto her lap. She stroked his hair as he cried, his body shaking with grief. When he finally quieted down, he was still shivering.

"John, what happened to you?" she asked gently.

"Oh god! It's inside me!" he gasped, and the tears returned.

"What is, John? What's inside you?"

"Wolf," was all he was able to get out before his teeth started chattering.

"You're not making sense. What do you mean? What happened to you on Sunday?" she asked.

Her words seemed to bring him around, and he struggled to regain his composure. She saw him clench his jaw, and he pushed himself to a seated position. He glanced down at his right shoulder in surprise as he could move it freely with no pain. The bandage was partially torn off from their wrestling on the kitchen floor, and she saw the red marks under its edge. He reached over with his left hand and pulled the bandage completely away. Anna saw the extent of the damage to his shoulder. The skin still looked red and purple from bruising, but it didn't look too bad. Then she noticed the rows of puncture scars and realized the size of the bite on his shoulder.

"What did that?" she gasped.

"I'm told it was a wolf," he said weakly. He looked up at her, and she saw the anguish in his eyes. "I'm so sorry!" he said.

"Tell me what happened!" she said firmly.

He blinked at her tone, then looked away as he tried to calm himself. He finally had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths before opening them again and beginning.

"I went for a hike in the forest. I took a side trail, and when I was at the top of the ridgeline, I saw a wolf. Or I think I saw a wolf." He shook his head to clear it. "I jumped to avoid it and fell down the steep side of the ridge until I fell into a pit filled with leaves. There was a dying man in the pit. He may or may not have bitten me too. Or it might have just been him and not the wolf. I can't trust my memory about that. In either case, he did apologize for biting me, and before he died, he grabbed my right hand, and I think he forced the ring on my finger. I don't know why I didn't notice it before." He stared at the ring. "I can't even tell I'm wearing it. I can't feel it!" He shook his head in disbelief. "The man's hands were so much larger than mine--how does the ring even fit?" He touched his finger with his thumb, and he could feel that but not the ring. Weird!

"What did you mean by it's inside you? What happened when I took the ring off? How did you make your hair and eyes change color?" Anna asked.

John leaned back against the door jamb and looked inwards. He didn't know how he missed it before. There was a... presence in his mind, deep inside but distinct from... him. He saw now that he'd been unconsciously keeping it in a... kind of mental blind spot to avoid acknowledging it. Now that it had forced its way to the surface, he could no longer do that. A shiver went through his frame.

"I can feel it now. It's resting, but it's there. I think that's what the ring does. It keeps it calm. Shit... I have no idea how it works." He looked bleakly over at Anna. "Did I hurt you? When you pulled the ring off, I felt it rise up over me, and I couldn't see or feel anything for a bit. Then I heard your voice, and I knew you were in danger. I clawed my way back up out of the darkness and held it for as long as possible. It's terrifyingly strong!" Another shiver shook him. "The wolf I saw on the ridge was huge with black fur and gold eyes. What color did I turn?"

"John, what you're saying makes no sense!" she argued. He looked at her and realized that Anna was taking the scientific, analytic side, and he was taking the metaphysical side for the first time. He felt his mooring slip.

He hung his head and fought back the tears. "I know," he said faintly. "I'd think I was insane if you hadn't confirmed there was a physical change as well." He pushed himself to his feet and turned to the door leading to his apartment. "I'm going to take a shower since my wounds seem to have healed enough. I think we need to talk afterward. I don't think you're safe around me anymore."

She gasped as he turned and walked away. Was he leaving home?

Chapter 6

All John could think of on his way to work the next morning was he needed to speak with Mr. Sass. So much had happened to him, and none of it made sense. He was also worried about the old man's reaction when he told him about the ring and the close call he'd had with Anna. John was confused by how strongly he needed the man's approval and support. He'd only known him for a few years, and they didn't talk that much. He was more of a familiar stranger, truth be told. But they... clicked.

His mind went back to the conversation he'd had with Anna the night before. It hadn't gone as he'd intended. After he'd washed the funk from his body and put on some real clothes, he'd gone back upstairs to tell her he would find another place to live. Somewhere he wouldn't be putting her or anyone else at risk from whatever was happening to him. While he really enjoyed living in her home, he'd been on his own for most of his life, and he could go back to that.

When he walked into the kitchen, Anna held up her hand. "Before you say anything, please know I will not accept any plan involving you running away when you obviously need help. I don't know exactly what kind of help you need yet, but I know you won't be better off alone or with strangers who won't be watching out for your well-being."

John blinked in surprise. "I-I'm not safe to be around. It's too dangerous--"

"I'm not a frail little old lady. I can take care of myself, as I've just proven! You need me, and I'm going to be here for you. End of conversation!"

John was stunned. He didn't know how to react to the fierce tenacity of her friendship.

She saw his confusion and smiled gently at him. She knew his origins and understood how this affected how he related to others. She gave him a hug. "Don't worry. We'll get through this together." He found himself crying in her arms.

The bus's brakes squealed, pulling John back from his thoughts, and he saw it was his stop. He leaped to his feet and pushed his way through the bus doors as they closed. As he stood on the sidewalk watching the bus pull away, he realized he was too early for the bookstore to be open. He'd been restless all night and finally just gave up and went to work. He walked over to the coffee shop, ordered a large coffee, and dumped the contents of seven sugar packets into it. He stirred it, then carefully sipped the hot and now very sweet beverage. Usually he drank it black, but for some reason this morning, he was craving the sweetness. There was an open table by the window with two vintage overstuffed, high-back chairs. He settled himself into one, luxuriated in the plush comfort, and watched the early morning pedestrian traffic.

A few minutes later, his peaceful quiet was broken. "Are you going to bless us with your presence again?" came a voice from behind him. The lovely accent gave her away, and normally John would have spun around to see the princess looking down on him, but he was in a rare mood this morning. Suddenly, chasing the elusive Melanie Singh seemed like a boy's game.

"Maybe," he grunted and took another sip while his eyes tracked a female form across the street with casual interest. She stepped around his chair and caught the motion of his eyes.

"Do you have some exciting story for why you were away this time?" she persisted, her tone hinting at being annoyed by his lack of attention to her.

"Excitement is subjective. What excites you?" he replied casually, still watching the scenery, his tone hinting that he'd just asked to be polite.

Mel was not used to being ignored. Especially by John. Normally he showed a puppy-like adoration around her. Today there was something different about him. She wasn't sure she liked it, but she couldn't leave it alone.

"Lots of things excite me. None of them I'd discuss with you," she said with perhaps a little too much venom. His attitude was really starting to bug her.

"Then I guess we have nothing to discuss," he said with a sigh and took another sip. The dismissal was clear. Mel had planned on spending the next thirty minutes before the shop opened basking in John's attention, but now she didn't know what to do.

He finally looked up and saw the upset on her face. He nudged the chair across from him out a little with his foot and said, "Sit. Please."

She hesitated, then sank into the cushions and watched him over her own tall cup of steaming hot coffee.

He took another sip and enjoyed the warmth moving down through his chest. He saw she was beginning to fidget. "Mel, I've had a couple of bad weeks, and this past one was especially rotten. They've had a significant impact. I'm not who I was."

He suddenly began to chuckle, but he quickly clamped down on it before it could become hysterical. He frowned deeply, then eased his expression back to a neutral state. He took another sip of his coffee with a hand that was just a little shaky. She caught the tremble and frowned with concern.

He saw her puzzled look, so he set his drink down on the small table between them and sat back. He unzipped his jacket and pulled it off his shoulders. Then he unbuttoned the top five buttons of his shirt, and Mel's eyes widened with each button he opened. Instead of what she expected, he pulled the shirt to the side, exposing his right shoulder. The skin was red and raw, and the puncture scars showed clearly. He waited as Mel's expression passed through confusion, recognition, and finally, horror.

"My god! What did that? When did it happen?" she gasped.

"A wolf. On Sunday, when I was hiking. It looked like hamburger three days ago. My doctor tells me I heal faster than normal. Oh, and after I was bitten, I met a guy dying from a knife sticking out of him. The rescue workers apparently found us an hour after he died. Me with my chewed shoulder and him dead by his knife wound. The police had me handcuffed to my hospital bed for a couple of days as they thought I'd had something to do with his death and wanted me to stay put. I've been cleared of that, of course.

"So, all of that after being hit by a car, spending a week in a coma, and enduring a week of being treated like a pariah by people I thought were my friends. The experience has left me a little out of sorts. I don't think I can go back to what I was."

The chuckles suddenly started again, and he throttled them down savagely. He buttoned his shirt closed and pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. He picked up his coffee once more and settled back to take a soothing sip while his hands trembled. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself, feeling a stirring deep within.

The touch on his knee surprised him, and his eyes snapped open. He saw it was just Mel trying to give him a little compassionate comfort. She squeaked and pulled back.

"John! Your eyes!" she gasped.

"What?" he said, blinking.

"They were gold!" she leaned forward, but his eyes were once again hazel.

"Are they?" he said, not wanting to explain.

"What? No, I mean they were gold, bright gold, but they aren't now," she struggled to explain.

"Probably just a reflection on my glasses," he replied.

"You aren't wearing your glasses. Are you wearing contacts?" she asked.

He suddenly realized he wasn't wearing his glasses, but he could see perfectly. He took his glasses for granted, and since he could see clearly, he assumed he had them on. He didn't own contacts, but that sounded like a good excuse. "Yes, sorry, I meant my contacts."

"Listen, I'm sorry Satomi and I treated you the way we did last week, but you needed to be punished for hurting her feelings," Mel said.

"And you're qualified to be my judge?" he asked brusquely, pinning her to her chair with a fierce look.

Mel opened her mouth, but all she made were some unintelligible squeaks, so John pressed on.

"Mel, you've told us you come from a very large family. You have your grandparents and parents and sisters and brothers and cousins and aunts and uncles and have years of interacting with them very closely, intellectually and emotionally. How can you relate to someone who was an orphan? Who spent his time in multiple foster homes? Someone who had very little continuous interaction with other people? Who had no one to form those close emotional bonds with? Can you truthfully say you understand how such a person would react to emotional cues they've never been exposed to? Please don't get me wrong. I'm not looking for pity. Just a little consideration. I'm doing my best. If I hurt Satomi's feelings, I'm deeply sorry. She's a beautiful and sweet young woman, and I wish her all the love and happiness life can bring. She certainly deserves it. But I don't think I'm the one to bring her that when I can't even recognize the signs."

Mel was staring over his head, and he realized that Satomi and Mel shared coffee in this shop every morning.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Satomi standing two feet away.

"How do you know if you do not try?" she said before she turned and left the shop.

"How long was she there?" he asked tiredly.

"She arrived when you started talking about my family," she said with a wince. "Sorry. I should go after her."

After she left, John put his face in his hands and leaned back into the cushions. The day was going from bad to worse. He finished his coffee, then headed across the street. There was no sign of Mr. Sass, so he walked around to the alley behind the store, but he wasn't there either. Of course.

John walked back to the front and went inside. Deron was standing at the cashier's desk, looking stern. John really didn't feel like repeating the story again, but this was his boss. So, he gave him the short version, and from the shocked look on the man's face, he guessed it was enough. John went back to his desk and tried to fill his day with work.

Deron didn't ask him to share his story when they had their usual group meeting, and John kept his eyes down throughout it so he wouldn't have to immediately deal with questions. Even Kelly, the Queen of the Oblivious, understood that John was off-limits today.

He called Detective Molina, who chuckled when he heard how long the doctor had made him wait to be discharged. John didn't clue him in with his suspicions that Mr. Sass had somehow expedited the process. The detective said that he'd have John's stuff dropped off at the store later that afternoon. He wished John well, and they hung up. Sure enough, a large paper bag arrived three hours later, and John had his wallet, phone, keys, clothes, and hiking gear back.

He worked through lunch and left an hour earlier than usual. Still no sign of Mr. Sass, but then again, he wasn't there every day. Just most days. John missed his bus, so he started to jog to the next bus stop, then the one after that. He had all this pent-up energy, and the jog turned into running, which felt good, so he just kept going. He was amazed when he finally ran up the street to his door. He used his keys to let himself into his apartment, immediately shed his sweaty clothes, and jumped into the shower. He felt amazing! He'd really needed that run and was seriously considering making it a full-time thing. He couldn't run to work as there were no shower facilities there. But if he brought running gear, he could run home, saving him half of his bus fare. He couldn't wait to get a new commuter bike.

"John? Are you home?"

He heard Anna calling him, so he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. He called out that he was just freshening up and dried himself off. Then he realized he hadn't brought any clothes with him into the bathroom. She normally stayed out of his space, as she called it. He listened but couldn't hear anything. To be on the safe side, he wrapped his towel around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom. Anna was sitting on his couch, but she was facing the other way, so he was good.

"Just a minute, stay there. I'm getting dressed." He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a t-shirt, jeans, and some underwear. He dropped the towel and tugged the underwear on. As he struggled to get the jeans on, he saw Anna's face in the full-length mirror on the far wall. She was in full blush mode.

"Sorry, I'll wait upstairs," she said as she quickly left the apartment.

He thought of where he'd been standing when he dropped the towel and realized she'd gotten the full Monty. Great.

He picked up his towel and dropped it in the laundry bin with the sweaty clothes he'd run home in. He'd have to do a wash tonight.

He walked upstairs and found Anna sitting in the kitchen drinking tea.

"Hi," he said.

"I'm sorry for intruding like that. I never meant to invade your privacy," Anna said, getting right to the point as she always did.

John sat down across from her at the small table. He looked at her blush and tried to think of a way to get past this. He didn't want any awkwardness between them, but this wasn't exactly an area of strength for him. He knew she preferred directness, so he went with that.

"You don't normally come downstairs looking for me. I wasn't expecting you to be there, or I would have brought some clothes into the bathroom. Why the change in your pattern?" he asked.

"You left very early this morning. I was worried that you had decided to move out, after all," she replied.

"No, not yet. I'm still not convinced that it's a good idea for me to be here, putting you at risk. I don't know what's happening to me except that it terrifies me. What's most terrifying is that I might hurt you or one of my co-workers. I can't go to my doctor because he already wants to lock me in a lab to study why I'm a fast healer. I'm not ready to surrender to imprisonment. I have no idea who I can safely talk to about this," he said.

"Did anything happen to you today? Did you have another episode?" she asked.

"No, except for a momentary flash of gold eyes when I was upset and Mel surprised me. I managed to convince her it was just a reflection in my contacts," he explained.

"You have contact lenses?" she asked.

"No, but Mel doesn't know that. But there's something else I learned about myself today. I no longer need glasses. My eyesight has never been sharper. How did that happen? No idea. Oh yeah! I can also run across town without my heart bursting out of my chest. I couldn't run more than a few blocks before without puking. I was never much of a runner, but now I can't get enough. That kind of improvement can't happen in one day!"

"None of these things sound the least bit dangerous, and truthfully, they sound good!" she chuckled.

"Do you not recall the little wrestling match we had in this very room?" he reminded her incredulously.

"Which I won!" she protested.

"With my help!" he rejoined.

Anna sat facing him, her eyes searching his face for something. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision. "I'm not ready to be alone," she said quietly.

"What?" John froze, thrown by what she'd said.

"I lost my husband too soon. We had no children. You know I'm pretty self-sufficient, but I've realized in the four years you've been my tenant that I need companionship. Please don't be offended, but I've come to think of you as the son Ron and I could have had. I know you'll leave one day. You'll meet someone and start a family of your own. I know it's terribly selfish of me to say this but... until that time, until there's a real reason to compel you to leave, could you please stay?" Her voice was almost a whisper when she finished.

John reached out and took her hands in his. He knew how hard it must have been for her to say that. She looked up hopefully. He just smiled at her as he couldn't trust himself to speak. He was touched beyond words, and he didn't know how to deal with the emotions he was experiencing.

It took a moment, but he got himself under control. "I don't have many good examples in my life, but I know you would have been an awesome mother," he said with a smile. "I'll stay, but you have to promise me that I have to go at the first sign I've become dangerous to anyone. I'd never forgive myself if I hurt you."

She nodded, tears in her eyes, and stood up with her arms open for a hug. He stood up and walked into her embrace. He'd never had a mom who hugged him, and he really liked it. It felt... like home.

Chapter 7

The next few mornings, Mr. Sass was in front of the shop but never stuck around for more than a friendly hello. John tried to catch him at the end of each day to find out if something was wrong, but the old man proved to be as elusive as ever. It left John with the feeling that he'd somehow wronged the man, but he couldn't figure out what he'd done for the life of him.

Avoiding his other passenger, he poured himself into his work and managed to broker a very sweet deal for three rare cookbooks for one of their better customers and an Egyptian scroll for a new customer in Seattle. The scroll was a bit out of the normal realm of their business, but Deron was very pleased with the commission John brought in, and the customer promised more business.

Satomi stayed away from John, and he only caught her watching him once or twice before she'd dart away. He would have to talk with her at some point, but he didn't feel up to it just yet.

Melanie started dropping by his desk more frequently. It was a definite role reversal, and she was well aware of it. She wasn't pleased that she was no longer the focus of his attention and wasn't sure why that bothered her. John was friendly and polite, which was more than she'd been. However, she could tell he wouldn't regress to his previous behavior of not-so-secret adoration. If she wanted his attention, she would have to earn it. Mel really didn't understand why she couldn't just let it go.

For his part, John was seeing the world from a new perspective. Perhaps it was due to his near-death experience, but the little things didn't seem to bother him anymore. His self-confidence got a boost, which helped develop his negotiation skills in his job. He seemed to be able to sense when a seller was reaching his actual bottom limit. He read their voices to know when to stop and never took them completely down to the minimum as that would put him at risk of souring future transactions. In the process, he got better prices for their customers. He threw himself into his work to take his mind off the changes he experienced.

He ran home every night. He'd never really been heavy. Soft was a better term to describe his previous condition. Now, his muscles were gaining definition and hardening. He'd started doing upper body workouts, too, and was surprised at how quickly he lost the softness. He didn't bulk up much, but he was beginning to get that ripped look. He just had so much extra energy these days.

Anna insisted he start taking yoga with her at night and was delighted that he took to it so readily. The biggest satisfaction was how tranquil his mind felt after a good session. During those moments of mind and body unity, he began to come to terms with the wolf inside. There was a mutual circling at first, each unsure of the other. In those initial days after he first discovered the beast, the wolf had been in a rage, lashing out. It seemed terribly agitated, but day after day of the stress management yoga, John felt that the wolf was getting as much out of the sessions as he was. It also LOVED to run!

What John was most grateful for was being able to describe this to Anna and not be judged. She was delighted that her yoga treatments were having such a beneficial impact. She was a little disappointed she couldn't speak with the wolf inside him. However, she let John know that this was proof to support her convictions of spiritual connectivity and said his pragmatism would have to take its licks this time. He had to gracefully accept this evidence but insisted this wasn't proof for the other odd phenomenon she'd mentioned over the years. That earned him a grin.

They ate their meals together when neither worked a late shift. They shared their news of the day, and home life was good. Anna relaxed about John's threat of departing, and John grew more comfortable that he wasn't as dangerous as he'd first thought. He started to appreciate the benefits the wolf appeared to be having on his life. That appreciation seemed to get through to the beast as it became comfortable with him.

John noticed the wolf was becoming edgier as the days went by. Not angry, not violent, just... restless. John's running seemed to help, but the wolf always seemed to want more. He wished he could speak with it, but that level of communication seemed beyond its ability.

The next morning, when John walked in the shop door, Deron let him know he had a special request in his inbox from a new buyer. It was a referral from the buyer who bought the Egyptian scroll. He was all grins, and John walked to his desk. He opened his terminal and read the request. It seemed straightforward enough, and the budget for this particular item was really high. He'd never brokered a deal for something this expensive. The commission for the store was going to be sweet indeed. No wonder Deron had such a big grin and was practically drooling.

Before he started, he suddenly craved a sweet coffee from across the street, so he put his jacket back on and strolled past the cashier's desk.

"What? You already fulfilled the request?" Deron sputtered.

"Nah, I'm not feeling it today. I think I'll just call it a day," he said casually, glancing over at Deron. The man's eyes widened, and he started to build up a head of steam before John's wide grin let him know he was just teasing him. "Oh, you nasty man!"

John laughed and offered to pick him up something from the coffee shop, but Deron refused to be bribed. He said he would have his revenge and grinned maniacally.

Once John returned with his coffee, he settled in and began his research. This time it was a small tablet from Ethiopia. He reached out to a few of his more obscure connections and asked them to connect to their contacts. He delved into every public online resource he could access for hints regarding the item and found very little information. He still had a private access account to the university he attended in Boston, and through that, he was able to connect to a few professors who had knowledge of these kinds of antiquities. By the end of the day, he'd picked a few brains, generated a few new requests for the shop at discount prices as favors to the professors, and had what he felt were very promising leads to follow up on tomorrow.

As he left, Deron was eyeing him with suspicion. "Well?"

John smiled. "I made good progress and sent an update to the buyer that I'll have news in the next day or so."

"That's wonderful! Who knew you'd be so versatile? Books, scrolls, tablets, the next item will be the Ark of the Covenant!" he playfully gasped at John.

"You want that? Cuz, I know a guy...." John replied with a wink. He threw a salute to his boss and stepped out into the night. Hoisting his small backpack onto his shoulders, he snugged down the straps and began to jog down the street. He noticed the night seemed brighter, and as he passed the intersection, he looked up and saw the moon glowing intensely. It was a perfect disc of silver, lighting the land around him. It drew his eyes, and he felt the soothing silver light expanding into every corner of his mind.

-=-

The trees swayed in the breeze, and city lights glittered in the far distance. His nose picked up the cool, wet scents of life and decay in the forest around him and a... metallic tang he couldn't place. His breathing came in deep gulps, and he realized his backpack straps were cutting into his shoulders and chest. He shook his head to clear the slight daze as he loosened the straps. It became easier to breathe, and he looked around.

"What the hell..." he sighed quietly, blinking in confusion.

He had no idea how he'd gotten so far into the forest, and he wasn't sure how to get back. He pulled his phone out and saw he was barely getting a signal. Then he noticed the time. Two AM. He'd left work at nine.

"WHAT. THE. HELL?" he growled.

He carefully felt for the wolf, and it was resting. For once, fully satisfied after a run. John looked at his shoes, and they were a mess. Torn uppers, lace eyelets ripped, and the bottom rubber layer of the sole of one shoe was peeled back halfway. His running shorts looked torn as well, like he'd been charging through the brush. That's when he noticed the entrails of a rabbit near his feet. He touched his mouth and felt the fur stuck to his bloody face. The metallic tang. Blood.

"Fuck me, I ate a rabbit!" he cursed quietly in shock. He glared inwardly, but the wolf was satisfied, and he felt its pleasure.

The cell signal was so weak he couldn't get a map application to work, so he put his phone away and looked around. From his vantage point at the top of the clearing, he saw a slight glow far below. He set his direction and started walking. Forty-five minutes later, he stepped out of the forest onto the side of a two-lane highway. The glow he'd seen was a gas station, but it was closed at this time of night. He saw a garden hose on the side of the building, and having no other recourse, he used that to wash his face and hands. The gore was pretty sticky, and he had nothing to scrub with, so it took quite some time to clean his face. He was looking down at the mess on his jacket and shirt when a police cruiser swung into the parking lot and pointed its headlights at him. Immediately the two officers stepped out and addressed him.

"FREEZE!" yelled the cop on the passenger side.

"Sir, please turn and put your hands against the wall," the one on the driver's side said.

"What?" John exclaimed, confused.

"Put your hands on the wall!" Angry Cop yelled.

John did as he was told, and soon he felt big hands patting him down. They took his backpack and searched it. Angry Cop got the wallet.

"John Doe? You got something to hide, Mr. John Doe? Something in your history you don't want people to know?" he growled.

"Sorry, should I answer, or was that rhetorical?" he asked calmly.

Before Angry Cop could pop his lid, Quiet Cop spoke up. "You can answer the questions."

"Yes, it's my legal name. No, I didn't change it. It was the name they registered for me at the orphanage." He rolled out his usual answer. "I'm not hiding anything."

"What's all that blood on your shirt, then?" Angry Cop burst in again.

"I was running in the woods. I got hungry. I managed to catch a rabbit... and I ate it," he replied. Would the truth set him free?

"Raw?" Angry Cop blurted belligerently.

"Raw. More nutritious that way, so I'm told," he said matter-of-factly.

"You normally go running at three in the morning?" Quiet Cop asked.

"No, I left work at nine and started running. I must have gotten into the zone. Kind of like a runner's trance. The miles just disappear when that happens," John explained. He was making this shit up as he went, so he really hoped the cops were buying it.

"And where do you work?" Quiet Cop asked.

"Century Traveler. It's a bookstore on the northern edge of downtown Portland," he answered.

"Are you trying to tell us you ran from downtown Portland to Castle Rock in five and a half hours? That's bullshit!" Angry Cop growled.

"Castle Rock?!? Crap! I had no idea," he replied, shaken that he was so far from home. Stupid wolf!

"I think we're going to have to ask you to accompany us back to the station," Quiet Cop said.

"On what charge?" John asked.

"Public nuisance for starters," Angry Cop growled as he slapped the cuffs on John's wrists a little too snugly. He also pulled him with a bit too much force and launched him into the back of the cruiser.

"Harry," Quiet Cop hissed to his partner. He knew the man was getting a little too worked up. Harry frowned back and got into the passenger seat to sulk. The driver went to the front of the building, where a door opened, and a man in a tattered dressing gown stepped out. He spoke to the officer and looked around but didn't look too upset when they parted. The Quiet Cop got into the driver's seat and made some notes with the computer between the seats. Then he buckled in. He looked in the mirror at John.

"Sir, did you ingest any drugs last night?" he asked.

The question surprised John. "No! I don't do drugs."

"Let me rephrase the question then. Are you on any medication, or have you ingested any natural, organic supplements that may have altered your brain chemistry in any way?" he asked patiently.

"No, sir," John replied.

"You're sticking with your story of running all the way from Portland then?" the officer said in a weary tone.

"Uh, I don't have another story. I remember beginning to run after I left work at nine last night, and my boss saw me leave. The next thing I remember, I was standing in a clearing up on that hillside about a mile or two away. My shoes are destroyed, my clothes are ripped, and I have rabbit fur and blood on me. Not my usual nightly activities. I'm sorry if I disturbed the people who owned the gas station. I just wanted to get cleaned up a little," he said contritely.

"We're going to take you to the hospital in Longview to have you checked out. Your eyes are looking a little glassy," the officer said as the cruiser pulled away.

John was worried his eyes were showing gold, so he tried to see himself in the mirror. Harry threw a threatening look over his shoulder, so he sat back. As it took a little while to get to the hospital, John practiced some relaxation techniques Anna taught him. When they got to the hospital, the Angry Cop had settled down and treated John cold but civilly. They took him into the emergency room, where they seemed acquainted with the night shift. John was plunked into a small space to wait on the doctor. They took the cuffs off when he indicated his hands were losing feeling. He spotted some sanitary wipes, so he used the time to clean the blood from his face and did his best to tidy his jacket and shirt.

After about an hour, a tired-looking doctor pushed open the curtain and did a quick check on John's pupils.

"I'm Doctor Emery, and you are... John Doe?"

"Yes, that's my legal name."

"Are you on any medications or recreational drugs?"

"No."

"Any history of mental illness in your family?"

"No idea. I'm an orphan, and I don't feel crazy," John said with a smile for the doctor.

The doctor turned to the officers and sighed tiredly. "Okay, this is wasting my valuable time. Why am I here?"

Harry began to growl, but the Quiet Cop put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the cruiser. He turned to the doctor.

"Mr. Doe was found just outside of Castle Rock at a gas station, washing blood and fur from his face. He explained that the blood and fur came from a rabbit he caught and ate raw. He claims to have run from Portland to just outside of Castle Rock in five and a half hours, but he doesn't remember the run. When we first encountered Mr. Doe, his eyes reflected oddly in the cruiser's headlights."

The doctor turned to look at John and took in the condition of his running shoes and shorts, the disarray of his hair, and the mess on his shirt.

"Have you previously experienced blackouts?" he asked.

"No," John answered.

"Do you know where you are now?" the doctor asked.

"In a hospital in Longview," he replied.

"You claim to have run over fifty-five miles in five-and-a-half hours. You understand that would require you to run ten miles per hour for that entire period. I run almost every day. I'm in the best shape of my life, and I come from a family of runners, yet none of us could sustain that speed for that long. Even ultramarathon runners can't do that. It just can't be done," the doctor said with finality.

John looked at him. "Okay."

"Okay? As in, okay, I didn't run that distance. I actually drove and hid my car somewhere back in Castle Rock?" the doctor smiled, believing he'd caught John in a lie.

"I don't own a car, and I don't drive," John said.

"So maybe okay, one of my friends drove me to Castle Rock?" the doctor frowned.

"Only two of my friends have a car, and I wasn't with either of them last night after work," John replied calmly.

"Then what do you mean by okay?" the doctor asked in frustration.

"Nothing. You say running that distance in that time can't be done. You seem to be more of an expert than me on running, so I say okay, I believe you. But I have nothing else to offer in explaining how I managed to get from Portland to Castle Rock in that time on foot. All I have is some physical evidence that indicates I did a lot of running. More to the point, though, have I done anything to indicate I'm a danger to myself or others?"

"Well... the blackout period is concerning. I'd like to run some tests on you to ensure you haven't experienced a seizure," the doctor said.

John shook his head. "While that sounds like fun, I have a really busy day ahead of me, what with dealing with the charge of... what was it again? Oh yeah, public nuisance. I've apologized for using the garden hose to clean my face. I have a job in Portland I've missed too many days recently, and I have a really big contract to complete today. I feel fine. Actually, I feel better than I have in some time. So, if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to skip the medical tests and get back to my life, if possible."

The doctor looked at him with a squint, then just shrugged, signed the chart, and moved on to see his next patient.

John looked at the remaining officer. "I'm all yours. Is there any chance I could just apologize to the gas station owner for disturbing his sleep, and we could all be on our way?

"He's not pressing charges. I'm going to let you off with a warning this time, but I think the doctor was right. You shouldn't ignore a blackout. Especially one of that duration," the officer said.

"Thank you very much, Officer...?" John asked.

"Watts."

"Thank you, Officer Watts. I'll let my primary healthcare provider know exactly what happened to me tonight," John said, intending to tell Anna all about his evening run.

They walked back out to the cruiser, and Watts handed him the backpack from the trunk. Harry looked like he wanted to argue but stayed in the cruiser to sulk. Watts pointed out where the Greyhound bus would pick him up to get back to Portland, and there was one early bus that he could make if he hustled. They both smiled a little about that.

John waved and headed off for the bus, his shoe flopping as he jogged.

Chapter 8

John pushed through the door to the store a few minutes after ten. He'd called Deron when he got home and explained that he'd be a little late due to unforeseen issues. He'd caught a quick nap on the bus ride back to Portland and on the transit back to his neighborhood, but he was still a little worn out from the night before. He left a note for Anna to let her know he was fine and wanted to talk with her tonight about the little journey the wolf took him on. He opened his fridge, ate everything still edible within it, then grabbed a quick shower, dressed (damn, were his shirts shrinking?), and raced out the door to work. He made it in record time.

As he briskly made his way to his desk, he congratulated himself on being just an hour late after the drama of the evening before. He rounded the end of the bookshelves and collided with Satomi. They tangled and toppled over with John on top. As they fell, John slipped his right arm under her arm, behind her back, and cupped the back of her head with his palm. His left hand went out behind her to catch their fall, and he spread his feet to balance himself. It all happened instinctively and automatically. He supported her weight on the way down, and she grabbed his shirt as they sank to the floor smoothly. Seeing the wide-eyed, breathless woman under him, John felt a rush of lust from deep within, and it was a struggle to keep himself from kissing those pink, delicious-looking lips. She must have caught the heat in his eyes as she leaned up quickly and planted a kiss before he could react.

John felt his self-control crumbling under the combined intensity of her soft lips, insistent tongue, and the wolf's carnal drive. He kissed Satomi back hard, and she moaned in reaction and softened in his grip. He felt a deep rush of pleasure course through his body, and Satomi clutched at him as she wrestled his tongue with hers.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

At Deron's yell, John turned his face in his direction and growled menacingly, the sound raising the hairs on the necks of those within earshot.

"JOHN!"

Deron's yell was a slap of reality. John was finally able to push the wolf down, and his face fell when he saw what he was doing.

The others had come running to see what Deron was yelling about. They froze in surprise when they spotted John doing a one-arm push-up while cradling Satomi in his other arm under his body. Satomi was still reeling with the intensity of their kiss, her breath coming in gasps. John moved his left leg up under his body to lift them up, and he set them both back on their feet in one graceful sweeping motion. He had to keep a hold of Satomi, who was still not steady. John's face went beet red with embarrassment.

"Satomi, please forgive my... momentary loss of control," he said. "You deserve better."

"I-I deserve more," she moaned, unable to look away from his mouth.

"Enough! John, my office, now!" Deron said and stormed away.

John took his hands from Satomi, who leaned towards him until Mel and Kelly stepped in with wide eyes to pull her hands away from his shirt. They braced her as he left to follow Deron.

He stepped into his boss' small office and shut the door behind him.

Deron glared at him from his chair for a few seconds. John stood there with his red face.

"What has gotten into you?" Deron asked, and John couldn't stop the snort from bursting forth. Deron's eyes widened as he saw John desperately trying to keep from laughing. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Deron's voice got louder as he watched John crumble into a chair. The man wasn't laughing now. He seemed to be crying, then he shook his head and clenched his jaw to get his control back.

Deron leaned back. He'd seen this kind of loss of emotional control and hyper aggressiveness. Some of the guys in his gym took steroids to gain muscle mass quickly, and they'd become belligerent tyrants. They'd been kicked out of the gym. He eyed John and noticed that he did look like he was bulking up. His biceps looked like they wanted to split the sleeves of his shirt. He'd been such a desk jockey, and now even his face looked leaner. Deron wouldn't allow one of his staff to go down that road.

"You've been juicing, haven't you? You're building up muscle and taking steroids to speed it along," he asserted.

"What?" John looked up at his boss, confused and wiping his eyes.

"I've seen this aggressive behavior before. You lose the baby fat, your muscles start getting bigger, and your confidence increases. It all seems good. Then you start losing your temper at little things, and your control erodes. Pretty soon, you start doing crazy shit like we just saw out there. Dragging Satomi onto the floor to kiss her, then fucking growling at me! I won't tolerate this shit, you understand me?"

John sat there listening to his boss. He wanted to deny taking steroids, and he knew the real cause, but there was no way he would drag Deron and his co-workers into this nightmare. But he wasn't going to leave Deron thinking he had assaulted Satomi.

"That's not what happened with Satomi. I swear it's not! We ran into each other as I was rushing to my desk and we fell. I caught her on the way down so she wouldn't get hurt. Then she kissed me. I'll admit once she did that, I lost control and kissed her back. I shouldn't have done that. And... I can't explain why I growled like that."

"She kissed you? Are you seriously trying to blame that sweet young girl for your sexual predation?" Deron yelled, incredulous.

"Sexual predation? I've never forced myself on anyone! Ask Satomi what happened. Speak with Mel," John barked back.

"You went after Mel too?" Deron yelled. He couldn't believe his ears.

"For fuck's sake! You aren't listening to me. I said I've never done that. Ask Mel about how Satomi feels about me and how I dealt with that... Up until today, at least." John sank back into the chair.

"You know what? I don't think I want to see your face today. Call this a vacation day without pay. Get out of my office and call me before you come in tomorrow. I will be speaking with people here, and I will get to the bottom of this. You seriously need to re-examine your priorities. Take my advice. Get off the juice. It will fuck you up, more than you already are," Deron said, gesturing for him to leave.

"What about the custom request?" John asked in surprise.

"It'll wait. Get out!" Deron shouted.

John fought down the urge to drag Deron across the desk and shake him. To believe that John would ever force himself on a woman was so incredibly disgusting that he lost respect for the man. He was sure the feeling was mutual. He stood up and left with as much dignity as he could muster. When he was on the sidewalk, he looked for Mr. Sass as he really needed to talk with the man, but he was elusive again.

John walked. He stopped at the bank and saw he had enough to afford to replace his running shoes. While he walked home, he kept an eye out for a shop specializing in running. He found one and grilled the saleswoman on the best shoe for trail running. He wanted something more durable if he was going to do distances through the woods. This set him back a little further than he hoped, so he'd have to add another few weeks to the many weeks before he could afford to replace his bicycle.

He continued to walk and found himself outside the yoga studio Anna worked at. He hadn't realized he was walking there. He went in as it was close to lunch hour and a cute receptionist smiled at him.

"Hello!" the young woman greeted him with a cheery tone.

"Hi! Uh, is Mrs. Harrison currently in a session, or is she available to go to lunch?"

"I can check for you. Whom shall I say is asking?"

"John Doe."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth burst into a big smile. "Ah! You're John! Anna speaks very highly of you!" she gushed. She quickly got to her feet and raised a finger. "Just make yourself comfortable, and I'll go see if she's available." She promptly moved to the stairs and rushed up them.

John looked around the waiting area, then took a seat. A few minutes later, the receptionist returned. "John? She'll be right down."

"Thank you!" he returned with a smile. The woman nodded happily and returned to her seat behind the desk.

He caught her glancing over at him occasionally with a happy grin on her face, and he began to wonder just what Anna had been saying.

Five minutes later, Anna came down the stairs and walked briskly into the reception area with a concerned look.

"John, is everything all right?" he asked.

"What? Can't a guy take his favorite landlady to lunch?" he quipped for the benefit of the grinning receptionist.

Anna saw the stress in the corners of his eyes but played along. "Such a charmer! But your rent stays the same." She smiled as he faked an injured look. They smiled at the young woman behind the desk and headed out.

Two steps from the front door, Anna launched her interrogation. "Where were you last night?"

John looked around and saw he could speak with little worry of being overheard. He looked at Anna. "The wolf took me for a run. I left the store at nine and started running home. The next thing I can recall is standing in a clearing on a hillside at two in the morning just outside of Castle Rock. I ran approximately fifty-five miles in five and a half hours. Oh! And I seem to enjoy eating rabbits, raw."

Anna looked at him in dismay.

"Yeah, it gets better. I found a gas station that was closed and used their garden hose to wash some rabbit blood and fur from my face, and the owner of the gas station called the police. They picked me up and took me to Longview hospital because they thought I was on drugs. They let me off with a warning."

"Thank heavens!" Anna gasped. She looked at John, but his stress hadn't lessened. "There's more?"

"Yeah," John said uncomfortably, looking away.

"Talk to me, John," Anna said, placing her hand on his arm.

He struggled, trying to think how to say the next words without getting upset. Finally, he sighed and just started.

"When I got to work this morning, I wasn't watching where I was going as I rushed to my desk. I collided with Satomi, and we fell. I caught her on the way down and kept her from hurting herself when we landed... but when we were on the floor, she... kissed me, and I kissed her back. God, there was so much passion, and the wolf was such a driving force I couldn't withstand the combination. I got swept away. Deron saw us on the floor and assumed I'd attacked her. He yelled, and... the wolf growled at him before I could get my head back in the game. He chewed me out in his office and called me a sexual predator. He also accused me of taking steroids which explains my new muscles and aggression. Then he sent me home. He's investigating, and tomorrow I'll call in to find out if I still have a job. If Satomi or Mel get confused or decide to punish me, it could get really bad for me."

Anna's face had gone pink as he described kissing Satomi, but she lost all color when he mentioned his boss' accusations and the possible loss of his job. That kind of thing on your work record would poison a career for a long time, if not forever. They arrived at the restaurant Anna liked.

They found a table for two by the window. The restaurant was too busy to continue their conversation without being careful about what they said.

"Deron can be really stubborn once he gets an idea in his head. He's convinced I'm taking steroids, and compared to the truth, I'm not sure I can or should try to convince him otherwise. The problem will be ensuring I keep my aggression in check around him. No more growling," John said.

"But you can't let him think you're a danger to the women!" Anna said.

"No. That won't stand. He has to believe I was telling the truth about that, or I won't work for the man," John scowled. After brooding for a minute, he continued. "I'm not going to tell him I've taken steroids. But I'm not telling him the real reason either. Either he believes I have integrity and we're good, or he doesn't, and I start looking for a new job."

The waitress arrived and took their order. To keep things light as other diners had moved into nearby tables, Anna talked about the classes she had taught that morning until the food arrived.

Anna picked at her salad while John tucked into his plate of ribs. He'd told Anna that he assumed his hunger was due to the extra exercise he'd gotten the night before. She reached over and ran her finger over his bicep, and he looked down. There was a thin tear in the fabric of his shirt. His eyebrows went up, and he flexed the muscle. The material was beyond its capacity to stretch and suddenly split wide open with a loud rip.

"OOOooo!"

John and Anna looked over in surprise at the outburst from the table next to theirs. Two well-dressed men sat watching John's display of brute power. One was clearly flustered, while the other looked embarrassed by his partner's reaction. John and Anna smiled politely and turned back to the window.

"I liked this shirt," John grumbled.

"If you keep growing, you'll need a whole new wardrobe," Anna said.

"It's not like I'm trying to beef up," he said to her quietly. He absentmindedly pushed the picked clean bones on his plate, looking for something he missed. He couldn't believe he'd already finished the full rack.

Anna smiled as she watched him hunting for more food.

"Come back to the studio with me and sit in on my afternoon sessions. You need to relax, and a good stretching will do you wonders after your run," she suggested.

"I have no workout clothes with me," he said.

"We have plenty of spares at the studio."

John thought about it and realized he would rather be doing that than sulking at home. "Sure, if you don't think it will be any trouble."

"No trouble at all." She turned back to her salad while John looked out the window.

CRACK!

She looked up to see John sucking at the marrow of the rib he'd just cracked open with his teeth. She reached across and touched his arm. His eyes locked on hers and the gold glow in them let her know it was time to leave.

"John."

The sound of his name was enough to make him realize he'd been drifting. It seemed the wolf had taken over while he'd daydreamed. He put the broken rib down, then flagged the waitress to get the bill. He glanced over at the next table, and now both men were blatantly staring at him. "You mind?" he said curtly, and they looked away quickly.

The walk back to the studio was quiet as each was caught up in their own thoughts.

She took him into the backroom and selected a shirt and shorts for him. She also gave him a lock and key.

"Where is the rest of it?" he said, looking at the minimal fabric she'd handed him. The shorts were very short and made of black spandex, and the matching tank had gold trim at the neck.

"The studios are kept quite warm, so I suggest you dress light. We do more advanced techniques in the afternoon, and this outfit won't bind you up. Besides, it's your colors," she added with a cheeky grin. "Now go get changed and bring me back the key. I'll put it in my office. Hurry up. Class starts soon," she said, pushing him towards the change room. She took the bag containing his new running shoes and stowed it in her office while she waited.

Moments later, he trotted back to her with the key. She grabbed a couple of mats, and they made their way up to the classroom. She directed John to take his pad to the far end of the front row as it was the guest position, and no one typically took that spot. Most of the participants were professional women, so she told him to keep his eyes on her so the others wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

The others filed in, and some paused when they saw him, but he kept his eyes averted and ran through his warm-up stretches and breathing exercises. Soon the room was almost full. He had a few spaces between himself and the others on his left and behind him, but he was fine with that. He was feeling a little underdressed in the tight shorts and skin-tight top.

Soon they were into the program, and John was learning new things. He kept his mind focused on the transition movements and poses, and the wolf played along. It didn't take long for them to both feel at peace. Once in a while, he'd see someone watching him out of the corner of his eye. He followed Anna's advice, though, and kept his eyes on her or forward when she moved back through the group, helping others correct their poses.

Anna was very pleased that John was taking the class seriously, and she saw that he was beginning to relax. It was almost the end of the session, and she thought she'd throw him a more challenging pose. It might break the ice with her regulars if the noobie were to tumble out of a pose. She'd caught several of them keeping discreet surveillance on the man during her class, and she wanted to ensure they weren't feeling put out by his presence.

Anna asked John to come to the front of the class with his mat. He looked a little nervous, but a little gentle encouragement brought him up beside her. She explained to the class that in a few weeks, they would be ready to move into more advanced poses like the one she was about to have John try. She demonstrated the forearm stand first, and John was suitably impressed. He was also dubious that he was ready for it. He got into position, and sure enough, he overbalanced and went over. Anna was there to catch his legs and keep him from getting hurt, but he ended up on his mat, flat on his back. There were some gentle chuckles from the other students, and he sat up with a bashful grin on his face.

"Well, you can see we are a few weeks away from this level, but you are all well on your way. See you on Friday," Anna said to her class.

The group rolled up their mats and prepared to leave. Several of the female members cast appreciative looks at John. Seeing there might be competition, a petite woman with short black hair and a well-toned body boldly strolled up to speak with John as a pre-emptive strike. Anna caught the word drinks and nipped the conversation in the bud.

"Carol, you know the rule. The building is off-limits for that activity," she said firmly.

The woman's eyes flashed with defiance, but she couldn't fight a rule that protected everyone in the club, herself included. She nodded to Anna, then smiled at John seductively as she left. John looked questioningly at Anna.

"One of the principles Haven Studio was founded on is Sanctuary," she explained. "A place where its members can feel protected, comfortable, and at peace. A rule was implemented to ensure women, and men, could feel comfortable about coming here without the pressure associated with the social dating scene. No one is allowed to arrange a social connection while in the Studio or nearby. If we receive a complaint about a member breaking this rule, their membership is revoked.

"Carol has been around long enough to know and shouldn't have made such an attempt. But she's an up-and-coming new lawyer in Portland, and I've heard she just made partner at the firm she works at. She's used to getting what she wants. Very aggressive," Anna warned him. John glanced towards the doorway, but the rest had already left.

"We have one more class which focuses on meditation and relaxation, so I think you'll enjoy that. Then we head home. I've prepared paella for dinner tonight if you'd care to join me."

John smiled at the woman, who appeared to be taking the role of a protective mother very seriously. "Sounds good!" he replied with a smile.

Chapter 9

Deron's office was small, but this morning it felt positively claustrophobic. John sat in the guest chair and waited for his boss to join him. He'd called in as requested, and Deron had stiffly told him to come in at ten and sit in his office.

He heard footsteps then Deron walked in and sat his large body on the other side of the desk. He stared at John for an uncomfortable amount of time before he spoke.

"It seems I owe you an apology for my comments regarding your actions with Satomi. I called her in, and she told me what happened yesterday. That it was an accident that led to your both being on the floor and that she kissed you first. I also spoke with Melanie, and she confirmed that Satomi has been crushing on you for a few weeks. She told me you hadn't responded to her signals as you hadn't recognized them. Then Melanie told me that you pretty much turned Satomi down."

John nodded.

"My calling you a sexual predator was clearly unjustified, and I apologize. I was pretty upset and shot my mouth off pretty badly," Deron said with contrition.

"Thank you."

Deron's expression turned grim. "To the second matter of your use of steroids and how it has affected your behav--"

"I'm not taking steroids."

"Don't lie to me, John! I've seen exactly this behavior in the gym I go to," Deron barked.

"I'm not saying my behavior is different. I'm saying the source of it is. I don't take drugs. I've seen what drugs do. Some of the kids I went through the foster homes with chose drugs as their avenue of escape. I saw what it did to them. I won't let that happen to me. I. Don't. Take. Drugs," John said emphatically, staring down his boss.

Deron sat back and held John's stare. He blinked first. "Not drugs? Rapid muscle growth, increased aggression, and not steroids? What's the source then?"

"I've had a rough few weeks. First, the bike accident, the coma, and finally being bitten by a freaking wolf! Several potentially life terminating events happened to me in a short time. My life has been turned upside down, which really shook me up. It's affected me in ways I never expected. Not too surprisingly, my health has become a singular priority for me. Perhaps to the detriment of other aspects of my life. Have I become more fit? Yes! The other night I went running after work and didn't stop until two-thirty in the morning! I'm strength training at home. And to increase my flexibility and work on the spiritual side of my health, I'm taking yoga with my landlady. That has done wonders for my state of mind, but I still have a long way to go. Why did I growl at you? I'm sorry, I don't know. I'm still working on that," John said earnestly.

Deron still looked skeptical, but John could see he'd gotten through to the man. Now to sink the hook.

"I truly appreciate your keeping an eye on me. I'm doing my best, but obviously, I need a little help from my friends," John said.

"Shit, man, if you're going to start singing Beatles tunes to get me all teary-eyed, I will kick your ass," Deron said with mock fury.

John smiled and realized he really did appreciate his friend looking out for him. It was an odd feeling.

"Just so we are clear, I don't want to see any hoochie koochie with any of the ladies in the store," Deron added, this time seriously.

"Understood," John said, stifling a smile.

The smile still showed in his eyes, so Deron snorted. "Go make me some money!" Deron pointed to the door. Meeting over.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, John made his way to his desk and immediately started by catching up on his e-mail. There were several responses from his contacts saying they'd found nothing and good luck. He saw one from JerseyJihad482, who responded with a request from his contact for direct contact with the buyer. They indicated they had the tablet but weren't willing to go through a go-between. They wanted to deal directly with the buyer or no dice.

Shit.

He'd have to be careful about this. Buyers largely wanted to remain anonymous, and John knew from the file that this would be one of those circumstances. There was also a juicy commission at stake.

JerseyJihad482 had done something very much out of character for this long-time source. He'd sent the e-mail address of his contact to John along with an animated GIF. He watched the little movie, and it took a moment for John to recognize the scene was an actor playing Pontius Pilate washing his hands with Jesus in the background. Perhaps a little overdramatic, but that was typical for this guy. It was exceptionally rare for one of his sources to divulge such information.

He sent a quick thanks to JerseyJihad482 and wrote a very carefully constructed message to ArchAnon555. He outlined the importance of his role in facilitating these brokered deals to ensure both buyer and seller were treated fairly and that the transactions could be completed safely and securely. Finally, he stated that he was the direct contact for his buyer, who desired to remain anonymous, but perhaps something could be worked out. He included his telephone number and hoped for the best.

He'd also received a note from one of the profs. He reported that an esteemed and long-retired colleague of his had traveled to Ethiopia more than fifty-three years ago to meet up with a group of archeologists from Oxford working a dig near Gondar. They'd found evidence of an ancient settlement, and amongst the discoveries was a series of seven tablets, two of them larger than the others and stained a dark brown. The archeologists shipped one of the stained tablets to Oxford to confirm a suspicion that this discoloration was caused by blood. The second dark brown tablet was stolen from the dig, and the guards had been viciously murdered. The first tablet, which had been shipped to England, never arrived.

The prof warned him to be very careful if people were willing to kill for this particular piece.

He replied to the message with his thanks and assurance that he'd take every precaution. He needed to speak with Deron.

He walked down to his office and knocked on the door jamb. The boss looked up quizzically.

"I have a possible legal issue regarding the tablet that new buyer is after. I got some background on it from one of my contacts. It seems there were two tablets originally. One was stolen as it was shipped to Oxford University in England more than fifty years ago. The other was stolen directly from the dig site in Ethiopia, and guards were murdered in the process. I have a line on one of the tablets. I don't know which. Is there any legal issue with our being involved in brokering such items? It feels a little weird to think we might be dealing with an item involved in a murder."

Deron's face had that grumpy look he got when he saw details getting in the way of making a sale. "This happened more than fifty years ago, in Ethiopia?" John nodded. "All right, considering how much this will bring in, I'll call my lawyer and pass it by him. Close the door on your way out. I'll call you when I get an answer."

John nodded and quickly ducked across the street to pick up a sandwich and fruit juice. He returned to his desk and gobbled down a quick lunch. While he waited for Deron, he conducted other research and concluded the purchase of a book for the helpful professor in Boston. It would arrive in a week, and he'd send it off to the man. That felt good!

Late in the day, Deron finally got back to him and said that the company and its employees were not legally liable for any criminal activity as long as there was no way to determine which of the tablets they were dealing with. The statute of limitations on the one stolen during shipment had expired. If they did resolve the tablet they had was the one involved in the murders, they would have to turn it over to the authorities. Deron didn't sound happy about that outcome and made it clear that John shouldn't look too closely into the item's origin as that could cost them a sweet payday.

Feeling a little more comfortable with the deal, John sent a quick update to the buyer, saying he believed he had a solid lead, but he'd need to work on it for a couple of days to see if it panned out.

John checked the time, and his day was over. It felt satisfying to have made so much progress. He slipped on his running stuff and stepped out into the night. No sign of Mr. Sass once again. He looked up, and the skies were overcast, so as he began his run, he asked the wolf to behave and let him just run home. It seemed to be sleeping, so he wouldn't be taking the scenic route this evening.

The next morning John checked his e-mails and was disappointed there was nothing from ArchAnon555. He would have to give him a little time to adjust to the idea. It was too soon to send another response. There was nothing from the buyer either, so he assumed that was fine. John busied himself with other orders.

Mel popped her head around the wall when it was getting close to lunch.

"Good morning, John," she said.

"Hi, Mel."

"Lunch plans?" she asked.

John was a little surprised as she'd never asked before. "Uh, no, I'm open."

"Good. Would you care to join me? I was thinking of heading over to the market to pick up a fresh salad and some fruit." Mel was a vegetarian but thankfully not militant about it.

John's stomach took the opportunity to growl loudly, making them both chuckle. "I think I'll need something a little more substantial to appease that!" he said with mock fear.

"There's a pizza place next to the market," Mel suggested with a grin.

"Now you're talking!"

They made their way over to the local market place which was beginning to pick up with lunch traffic. He ducked into the pizza joint to place his order while Mel hit a few of the merchants to find a salad, some nuts, and some fruit.

John sat at a two-seater table outside the pizza place to wait for his order. Mel wandered back to him with her lunch in bags. She placed a napkin on the small table between them and arranged her lunch. John saw her brow furrow as she looked down at the small bag of nuts she'd purchased.

"Now, that wasn't very smart of me," she pouted.

"What?"

"I didn't bring a nutcracker for my macadamia nuts," she explained, pointing to the small bag of brown nuts.

John picked up the bag and looked at it. He put it between his palms at chest level and squeezed his hands together. He felt his shoulder and back muscles tightening, then a series of loud cracks came from the bag. He carefully opened his palms over the table and placed the bag in front of Mel, who was staring at him with wide eyes. He headed inside to see how his pizza was coming along.

His medium meat fanatic was ready. He carried the box outside and set it on the corner of the table with the large bottle of water he'd also bought.

Mel was still staring at him.

"Something wrong?" he asked, looking at her lunch.

"Since when did you become all...." Mel's voice ran out of steam as she got flustered.

"All...?" he asked curiously as he took a huge bite out of a slice of pizza. His eyes closed in bliss as the flavors of the pepperoni, ham, sausage, ground beef, and barbeque chicken blended with the mushrooms, hot peppers, and melted cheese.

"All this!" she finished pointing at him up and down.

He looked down at the tight black t-shirt he'd worn this morning. As Anna had warned, he would have to buy a new wardrobe. His shirts were now too tight around his arms and across his shoulders.

"Yeah, I've been working out, trying to get into shape. Having a couple of brushes with death kind of wakes you up to wanting to be healthier."

He tucked into his meal, and Mel picked at hers.

She worked up the courage to ask him a question. "John, I've wanted to ask, and actually, I promised Satomi I would. About that kiss?"

John froze, the last slice halfway to his mouth. He put it back down and carefully wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin.

"What about it?" he said calmly.

"I got there just as you appeared to be kissing her in return. There seemed to be some real fire there." Mel's complexion was getting darker, and she was having trouble meeting his eyes which remained on hers.

"Satomi caught me by surprise with her kiss. She was pretty aggressive, and trust me, I don't mind that at all, but it pushed me past my self-control for a minute. I'm only human--" He jolted a little when he heard himself say that but forced himself to continue. "I've explained why I think she deserves someone who can better relate and respond to her."

"John, the heart wants what it wants. It doesn't try to match a bunch of compatibility criteria," she said with exasperation. "You are setting yourself up for a very lonely life if you won't accept that."

As his appetite slipped away, John flipped the lid closed on the pizza box, the last slice uneaten.

Seeing his discomfort, Mel immediately felt sorry for having pressured him. "I didn't mean to hurt you, John. I'm sorry."

"Look, Mel, I'm sorry I'm not ready to return Satomi's feelings. I'm not ready to be someone's boyfriend. I'm certainly not going to begin a physical relationship with someone who has an emotional bond, as that wouldn't be fair to either of us. I really enjoyed the kiss, but you saw how that finished."

He saw Mel was fixating on his mouth as her mind was cast back to the event. He felt distinctly uncomfortable as he recalled the multiple times in the past when the circumstances were reversed. He'd been the one obsessing over Melanie's amazingly lush, soft, kissable lips. Longing to feel them against his, to feel her tongue slipping into his mouth, to slide his fingers into her long black tresses, the press of their bodies against each other...

John gasped and pulled back as he suddenly realized how close he'd come to kissing Mel. She was leaning forward, her eyes closed, those wonderful lips ready for the touch of his. He'd been halfway across the table himself.

"I'm sorry, Mel. I have to go," he said abruptly and left, walking in the direction he was facing. He wandered aimlessly, shaken to the core. "Was Deron right? What have I become?" he thought.

He found an empty bench in a park and sat with his head in his hand, elbows resting on his knees.

After a few minutes, he felt the bench settle under the weight of another occupant. His sense of smell detected the warm spice of a familiar cologne.

"Why have you been avoiding me, Mr. Sass?" John asked quietly, not moving from his position.

"Have I?" came the reply.

"I needed to speak with you. Crazy shit is happening in my life, and for some reason, I really need your input," John said calmly.

"What can an old fool like me possibly offer that's of value?" the man replied. John picked up something in the tone. Anger? Grief? Was it directed at him? Not for the first time, he wished he knew how to read people better.

"Guidance or just a non-judgemental ear. Sometimes that's all that's needed. Someone to listen," John said.

There was a pause as the old man digested this. "Okay, I'm listening."

John's mind immediately swam with the multitude of things he wanted to discuss with him. The enormity of what he wanted to tell him was daunting. John sat back and realized this park wasn't the best setting either. Too busy. He looked over at the man and was shocked to see he looked like he'd aged since he'd seen him in the hospital. Suddenly he felt terribly selfish for thinking of his own needs. The man slept on the streets, for Pete's sake!

"How have you been?" John asked.

The question caught Mr. Sass by surprise. He smiled, and his shoulders relaxed. "I've been worried about someone. Looks like it isn't all bad news."

John smiled, and his eyes filled with tears for some odd reason. He had to look away. He felt a hand on his shoulder, giving him a pat.

His cell began ringing insistently. He recognized the tone as Deron's. He smiled apologetically at Mr. Sass. "Sorry. That's my boss. Probably wondering why I didn't return to work after lunch. I'd better answer."

Mr. Sass just nodded.

"Hello. Yes, sorry I had to do something, but I'll be back shortly. No, everything is good. Thanks!"

He looked at the old man. "Could I speak with you after work tonight? Are you available? Maybe I could buy us dinner?"

Old but sharp eyes gauged him, and Mr. Sass smiled. "Sure. I'll be around. We can talk then."

John stood and shook the man's hand. Then he headed back to work. Knowing he'd be able to talk with Mr. Sass really helped, and by the time he reached the office, he was almost feeling normal.

He managed to avoid Mel and Satomi on his way in, and neither sought him out, so he buried himself in his work. He had some trouble with his e-mail in the afternoon, so he went up to speak with Kelly in her cluttered office/server room. The room was a little chilly for his tastes, but Kelly seemed to prefer it. She sat at her desk, eyes fixed on the weblogs scrolling up her screen. John smiled as he looked at the wall of pictures Kelly had taped up of her girlfriend. At least here, he didn't need to worry about being accused of trying to seduce this co-worker. Kelly was quite head over heels for Laura and had been for over a year. He thought they made a cute couple. Laura even looked like a blonde version of Kelly.

Kelly seemed to notice him standing there, which meant she wasn't completely absorbed in the web logs after all. She spun around in her chair and grinned up at him.

"Well, look who's here! Mr. Animal Magnetism himself."

"What?" John blurted, stunned. He was perhaps a little too sensitive to such comments.

"Sorry, but I call 'em like I see 'em. Satomi was absolutely enraptured by that kiss you gave her the other day, which was hella hot, by the way! God! I think we all creamed our jeans when you growled at Deron, all deep and throaty like that. Even Franklin."

John placed his right hand over his eyes and rubbed his temples, which were beginning to throb with a headache. "Kelly, please, I didn't come here to talk about this."

"Well, that's too bad, dude, cuz you're the reason Laura and I have had really hot sex the past couple of nights. When I described what happened in explicit detail, she went wild! That's right! You're our straight fantasy fuck!" She laughed at the embarrassed look on his face.

"Kelly! Geezus! Give it a rest! I just need you to look into why my e-mail account isn't responding!" John groaned.

"Oh, that! I took your account offline as someone outside was trying their best to hack into it. They were pretty sneaky, but I'm sneakier, or perhaps I should say, more paranoid because I had precautions in place to catch that kind of activity. I locked them in a loop where they would think they were getting deeper, but it just took them in circles. I kept them online for twenty minutes before they clued in and logged off. In that time, I tried every trick in my repertoire to trace them back, but it was a no-go. They covered their source really well. I'll put your account back online now."

"How often does that happen?" he asked, puzzled.

Kelly snorted as she shrugged. "Hackers show up randomly and test the limits of our site. It happens. Directed attacks on specific accounts are much less frequent here. I can't recall when the last one was... or if we've ever had one here," Kelly said, her eyes drawn back to the screen.

"Thanks," John said.

"No problem... lover!" she giggled.

He made his way back to his desk, feeling a little worse for wear. He hadn't expected Kelly to react like that. Oh, he knew she had a sailor's tongue, but she'd never directed it at him before.

He went back into his e-mail and followed up on a few items when his direct line rang.

"Hello, John speaking."

"Ah, yes, uh, is this John who was interested in the Ethiopian tablet?" said a voice. John picked up that the speaker was young, female, and nervous.

"Yes, is this ArchAnon555?" he asked.

"...Yes, I guess I am. Now," she said, her voice trembling.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Sorry, my uncle passed away a couple of days ago. I'm the executor of his will. I found he'd left his computer logged in to his e-mail, and I saw your message at the top of the stack. I'm definitely interested in selling it. It's been nothing but a burden to our family for years. He was obsessed with it, and it destroyed his marriage. The sooner it's gone, the better. You mentioned in the note that you'd help ensure the seller got a fair price. My uncle had a lot of debt when he died. Do you think I could get a good price for it?" she asked hopefully.

John cringed inwardly when ArchAnon555's niece and executor divulged how eager she was to sell the artifact. He definitely got the vibe that the young woman could easily be steamrolled into a bargain price. She was lucky that John took his commitment to being fair to both parties very seriously.

"Yes, I should be able to help you get a very fair price for it. To be a seller with us, you'll need to go to our website and set up an account - enter 'ArchAnon555' as the username. As you've informed me that the item belonged to your deceased uncle, you'll need to scan a copy of the document listing you as executor and legal representative and attach it to the account. I'll send you the link. Do you think you can do this?" he asked.

"Yes, I've had to send out that information more than once today, so I already have it scanned," she replied.

"I have to inform you that the tablets have some troublesome history. There were originally two. One was stolen in transit, and one was involved in a multiple homicide. I've been informed that my company does not wish to know the history of the item you have in your possession, so if you know which of the two it is, please do not share that information with me. This is the only way we can broker the deal. Is this understood?"

"Oh my God! I knew it was cursed!" the woman gasped.

"Did you understand what I just said?" John asked again, trying to remain calm with the stakes this high.

"Oh! Yes, I understand. Sorry!" she finally agreed.

"Is the item secure for shipping?" John asked.

"Yes, it's still in the original crate. There are old British Airways cargo stickers and an address label for Oxford University sealing the crate shut. Do you want me to open it to confirm the contents?" she asked.

"Ah, you just gave me the history of the item." The woman moaned unhappily. "However, we're in luck. It sounds like it's not the one involved in the homicides. I will proceed with that understanding, so we are good."

John exhaled with relief. "Normally, I'd have you confirm what's inside the box, but from what I understand, uncrating an artifact can be a delicate process and could damage the item if done incorrectly. As you've indicated that the crate appears to have remained unopened, I'd suggest that it might be safer to just have it shipped here. We'll have our expert confirm its authenticity and give an appraisal. The final say on making the sale is always yours. Please note that you'll need to pay for the initial shipping to us. The price for that is based on weight and the cost of insurance. I suggest you insure the package for as much as you feel comfortable spending. We have a courier for antiquities, and I'll send you their details. They're fully bonded and know how to deal with fragile items. I'd suggest you wrap the crate to obscure its original labeling. Maybe in layers of bubble wrap? You will also need to pay for the appraisal, and I can tell you that will run you roughly three-hundred-dollars."

"That's a lot of money to pay up front. What if the deal falls through?" she asked, worried.

"Well, I can tell you I have a very motivated buyer who's confirmed with us that they will buy the item if it's authenticated and you agree upon a price. For your peace of mind, you could find someone to authenticate it before you ship it here, but you'll still need to pay for our expert to authenticate it for us. That part is non-negotiable."

"What kind of price can I expect for it? How much is it worth?" she asked.

"These items are in an odd category. If you were to take it to a museum, they'd tell you it's priceless and ask you to donate it because that's how much they'd give you, nothing. Like a painting from one of the masters, the price largely depends on what collectors are willing to pay. That's what we'll learn from the appraisal. The buyer is also subject to the appraisal. The appraiser might determine that the collector market for obscure, ancient Ethiopian tablets is very small, limiting the value. Another option you have would be to take it to an auction house, but I should warn you that while Oxford's legal claim on this item may have expired, if they learn of the auction, they may still file a claim that would tie it up in the courts. That's just a possibility. I hope that helps."

John was sure Oxford wouldn't do anything of the sort or even be aware of such an auction until after the fact. While he felt a little bad doing it, he'd offered the auction route to make her feel at ease with him, then planted the seed of doubt to kill its appeal. He wanted her to continue to work through him. While it wasn't his intention to swindle her, he still needed to pull in the commission.

There was silence at the other end of the phone for a while, then he heard her sigh. "Okay, send me the details for the courier. I want this thing out of our lives. Please let me know when you've received the assessment. I'll send you a cheque for that. Let's hope for the best. As I said, my uncle left us with some debt. The money would really be welcome."

John did a silent victory punch, then quickly sent the courier details to the ArchAnon555 account. "Alright, I've sent you the information. I'll get the ball rolling on our side. Thank you very much. I'll inform the buyer that we've entered the next phase of the deal. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions."

"Thanks, John. Bye," she said and hung up.

John stood up and did a little dance at his desk, then walked to Deron's office.

The man was working on his PC with a pencil in his mouth.

"So, can you contact our assessor and ask if he's qualified to authenticate ancient Ethiopian tablets and give us an appraisal?"

The pencil dropped unnoticed to the floor as Deron's eyes lit up and his face split into a big grin. "You did it? He wants to sell, and he'll work through us?"

"Well, duh!" John teased.

"That's awesome!" Deron's grin was infectious.

"I'll ask Kelly to keep an eye out for her account," John said, turning away.

"ArchAnon55 is a she. Cool," Deron remarked.

"Actually, ArchAnon555 died a couple of days ago, and his executor is his niece. Not to worry, she will send us the confirmation documentation," he quickly added, seeing Deron's face fall. The grin sprang right back on his face.

"That's why I keep you around," Deron said.

"Oh, did I mention she told me the item's history?" John said, watching Deron's face fall again. Before the man could explode, John held up his hands reassuringly. "It's cool! It's the one that was shipped to Oxford. I didn't ask. She just blurted it out after I told her not to tell me."

"You're going to give me heart failure! Get out of my office before you do. Hey, take the rest of the day off!" Deron said magnanimously.

John glanced at the wall clock and saw it was past his quitting time. "Nice."

Deron laughed and waved him away in a shooing motion. As he bent to pick up the pencil, he clunked his head on the desk.

"Karma, man," John said and beat it before Deron could pitch the pencil at him.

John returned to his desk and fired off the note to the buyer, informing him the seller was interested and that they'd begun the next phase of the deal. That felt satisfying to write. He knew that the whole transaction could come crashing down if the item was a fake or if the seller decided the shipping costs were too much, or for a multitude of other reasons. But the ball was rolling for now.

He left Kelly a note regarding ArchAnon555's account, then signed off and packed up. Then he headed for the door. He spotted Mel coming out of the ladies' room, and he stopped to apologize to her, but she blushed and did an immediate turnaround and headed back inside. Satomi would have already left for the day, so he wouldn't be bumping into her tonight. He thought about dinner with Mr. Sass and wondered where he would take the man.

"John! Yo, dude!" Franklin called out somewhat frantically.

John turned around and saw the young man sitting at the checkout desk. "Oh! Goodnight, Franklin!"

"Yeah, goodnight. The scary old black dude poked his head inside and told me to tell you that something came up and he had to leave. He said he'd try again tomorrow night."

"Thanks for telling me," John said with disappointment.

"Are you kidding me? You have to tell him I gave you the message, or he'll cut me," Franklin moaned with fear.

"He's not going to do that," John replied.

"Just tell him."

"Goodnight, Franklin."

John really wanted to speak with Mr. Sass. He sighed and headed off to catch the bus instead.

Chapter 10

The courier company contacted John the following morning to inform him that the package had arrived at their office too late to be delivered until the next morning. He thanked them for the update, then called Deron.

"Hey, boss. The tablet won't be in until tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll let Jean-Francois know. He has someone in mind to do the authentication and assessment. It will probably take another day or so to arrange to have them come in. While I have you on the phone, I have a favor to ask," Deron began.

"Sure, what is it?" John asked.

"I got a call from a publisher who wants to come in for a tour this afternoon. I'd do it... but I'm the boss, and I don't want to, and you owe me for pranking me back when the tablet order first came in. See? I told you I'd get you back. Honestly, I don't know what she wants, and I'm not really interested in taking on any specific lines from a publishing house. I'd rather not burn any bridges hence getting you to do the tour and find out what she wants. Her name is Kate Darrows, and her publishing house is Seshat Publishing. Do a little research before she arrives, which should be around five. She's flying in from Seattle. Seriously, are you cool with this?" Deron asked.

"Sure, no problem," John said. He'd done similar tours in the past and knew the script to follow.

"You da man!" Deron cheered, then hung up.

John opened a browser and pulled up the Seshat Publishing website. A few minutes later, he was already bored. They specialized in republishing public domain ancient texts of the occult and spun them into fluff for the masses. It was probably very profitable, but their link to what Century Traveler did was very limited. Still, he'd listen to what the woman had to say.

Speaking of the woman, their website had no pictures of her at all. John had to do some serious Internet spelunking to find an old image of her on a fan site of a Seshat series. Apparently, Kate had attended a trade show twelve years ago in England to promote their books. This particular fan managed to sneak a picture of the otherwise photo-phobic woman. She wasn't looking directly at the camera, but she was a very attractive woman, from what he could see. At the time, she was maybe in her early forties, and had long red hair and hourglass curves. He couldn't get much more from the one image he found. As it was over a decade ago, he wondered if she'd kept her figure. Something to look forward to anyway.

It was approaching lunchtime, and John had a mission. He wanted to apologize to Satomi for kissing her and almost kissing Mel. Which one he spoke to first depended on which of them was least successful in avoiding him.

He headed over to Mel's desk and saw that she'd already left. Heading down to the floor, he discovered from Franklin that Satomi had gone to lunch with Mel after refusing his invitation yet again! The young man was quite outraged that his fantasy woman didn't want to even break bread with him. John asked if he knew where they were going and was told the sandwich shop the next street over. John recalled the place and suspected it was a favorite spot for sharing girl talk across the small cramped tables in the intimate seating area in the back.

John strolled over to the shop and bought a large roast beef sub. He carried it into the dark warren of the seating area and spotted his prey in the far corner. He saw that he'd be able to slip in a chair next to the small booth and get a captive audience and a good amount of privacy if he tucked in. He needed to clear the air, and he wanted them all to go back to being friends, but first, he needed to talk with them.

He snagged a chair and quietly slipped up the aisle until he was next to their table. He plopped himself down in the chair next to them, effectively trapping them at the table. He watched their expressions pass through surprise, shock, panic, and finally, fear. Well, that was Mel's reaction. Satomi went from surprise to shy longing in a flash.

"Hi, I won't stay long. I know I'm not welcome, but I really miss my friends, and I was hoping we could at least agree to work something out so we could stop avoiding each other," he began.

He looked over at Mel, and her eyes widened in fear. That hurt. He wasn't going to spill anything that might embarrass her in front of Satomi. "Mel, I hope we remain friends as I really enjoy our verbal sparring. It keeps me on my toes, thinking there might be someone almost as smart as me in the office." Mel couldn't stop her surprised snort when he said this, and he saw the fear in her eyes fade. "The awkwardness since the morning I bumped into Satomi really makes me sad. Please consider this my apology for whatever I did to offend you."

He turned to Satomi, whose expression had slipped from longing into hero worship. He wished he knew what he'd done to warrant such strong feelings from her. Maybe that was a good start. Finding out when this began.

"Satomi, can you tell me when you started to see me as someone you wanted... to get to know better? I remember us being friends, then to me, it felt like you suddenly saw me as boyfriend material," he said gently.

She looked at him from under her bangs and smiled. "Karaoke night, two months ago. You sang to me, and the song was Drive by The Cars. You sing so good! I think I fell a little in love with you that night." Her face was in full blush. "You told Melanie why you would be a bad boyfriend for me. But you never see what is good in you. You try to protect me even when it means you will be alone. Then you took my first kiss." She looked into John's eyes with lust flaring in hers.

Mel blushed at this as well as she remembered her own close call.

"Ah yes, the kiss," he said quietly and watched Mel squirm in her seat.

"I haven't been myself since the accident, then the attack in the woods. I'm finding myself to be... uh, more aggressive? No, that's not it. I'm more impulsive about acting on my emotions before thinking them through. I've never been like that before. My entire life has been spent protecting and reserving my emotions to the point where I don't react like I should. I don't get people a lot of the time. Then I don't understand why they're upset. That's a terrible miscommunication to deal with. In every relationship I've been in, and there have only been a few, I've hurt someone by being inconsiderate of their feelings. I really like you, Satomi. I'd hate to hurt you that way. Maybe someday I'll be ready to open up emotionally, but for now, I'm not ready."

Satomi watched his face, and her expression was sad. "You must learn to stop thinking all the time. Act with your heart."

"I'll try," he promised with a smile.

"And kiss me again," she said with an impish grin.

"What?" John and Mel yelped.

"I am willing to wait for the day you will be ready to love, but a woman has needs," Satomi said earnestly. She faced John more directly and slid partially out of the booth. She locked her legs around his and placed her arms over his shoulders as he sat frozen. "Remember, do not think, just feel," she instructed, her face dangerously close to his. He felt the wolf perk up. It certainly remembered the feel of her lips.

Before John could resist, Satomi leaned in and pressed her sweet mouth against his, her tongue bold and insistent as it explored his mouth. The wolf didn't wait for John to come to his senses and reject this wonderful experience. He kissed her back, and it was good. He felt Satomi whimper into his mouth as he caressed her soft lips with his and sucked on her tongue. Soon his hands were filled with her amazing breasts, and his kiss became more demanding. Satomi was constantly moaning now, completely overwhelmed with the sensations and indicating her excitement was well on its way to a release.

"JOHN!"

He blinked and shook his head, breathing deep and fast as a low rumble came from his chest. He looked over at Mel, and her expression slowly sunk into his brain. She was also breathing hard, and her eyes were wide. "You can't do this here!" she hissed quietly.

The wolf had one more move. John's hand reached forward under the table, pressing his right hand's heel between Satomi's legs hard, and rolled his wrist in a circular movement. The young woman's head sunk to his shoulders, and she bit down on his collar as she moaned and shook through her release. The entire time John's eyes were locked on Mel's. He wanted her, and she knew it. Sweat beaded on her upper lip, and she unconsciously licked it away with the pink tip of her tongue. His eyes flashed gold momentarily as he watched her mouth.

John closed his eyes hard and tried to get his breathing and body under control. When he opened them, he saw Mel was looking at him strangely. Then he noticed Satomi resting her cheek against his shoulder. He looked at her face to see if she was upset, but she just had this dreamy look. She opened her eyes and whispered. "Best lunch ever!" She pushed herself back into her seat and gave John a deeply satisfied smile.

"That was acting from your heart with no over-thinking!" she breathed. "So much fire! So much passion! You are very, very good, John! Melanie, you should try too." She closed her eyes to catch her breath, so she missed Mel's incredulous look.

"I'm sorry. When I came to speak with you two, this was not my intention," John gasped.

"No, John! You are thinking too much again. It was so good!" Satomi said as she opened her eyes and straightened her clothes.

"I think I'd better leave," he said.

"Then who is running away?" Satomi said, pinning him with a stern look. "Your mind has not accepted what your heart clearly has. You must begin to listen to your heart."

"But..."

Mel could no longer remain silent. "John, what happens to you when you kiss Satomi? It's like something is waking up inside you." She blinked a few times and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "It's primal."

"Yeah... it feels something like that," he admitted, distinctly uncomfortable with the accuracy of her perception.

"This hasn't happened to you before?" she asked.

"No, not before the attack in the woods. Like I said, that really shook me up," he said quietly.

"I think it is an improvement if it helps you get more in touch with your feelings," Satomi said as she packed up the rest of her lunch. Mel noticed this and packed up hers. John pushed back, and the three left the restaurant and headed back to the store.

On John's right, Satomi looped her arm through his and looked over at Mel with a grin. Mel glanced up at John's face, then looped her arm through his left. When they saw him blush, they both giggled.

John wasn't sure what to feel. He'd just wanted them to go back to being friends, and Satomi had pushed them a few notches past that. Even Mel was looking at him differently. He didn't know if that was an improvement, but at least they weren't avoiding him. As he held the door open for them, he caught Deron's stern expression from the cashier's station.

"Friends! We're all friends!" he exclaimed to his boss.

As Satomi passed the station, she spoke up. "With benefits!" She ran away giggling. Mel snuck away with a deep blush leaving John to face Deron's wrath.

"What did I tell you--" he began.

John had to nip this in the bud. "Hold up there, big man! We just had a conversation, trying to work out a way to get past the awkwardness. I wanted my friends back, and I think we're good... or at least on the road to getting there. Besides, we are all adults, ignoring Satomi's teasing, and we weren't in the store. Okay?"

The big Jamaican didn't look happy, but he couldn't argue with John's rational explanation. "See to it that it doesn't affect the shop."

John nodded and went back to his desk. He ate his almost forgotten sandwich quickly, then got back to work.

Hours later, his phone rang, and Franklin whispered that a stone-cold fox was waiting for him downstairs. His five o'clock tour! He shut down his station and went down to meet her.

As he approached the front desk, he got his first clear view of Kate Darrows. Franklin was right! She was stunning! Pale skin and flame-red hair hanging past her shoulders, high cheekbones, large green eyes, slim nose, and lush red lips. She wore a dark grey sheath dress that emphasized her luxurious curves and pointy red high-heel shoes to match her hair. The ensemble drew your eyes over her entire body, which was likely its goal. As John's eyes returned to her face, he caught her satisfied look, and her smile grew on those amazing lips.

"Hello, I'm John Doe," he said as he took her hand in his. Her skin was smooth, soft, and a little cool, but her handshake was firm.

"Kate Darrows. That's an interesting moniker you have. Has it presented you the bliss of anonymity it promises?" she said. She had a lovely smooth voice with a hint of an accent that he had trouble placing.

"I don't think anyone has ever seen my name as a positive thing before. I get less junk mail than anyone I know, and telemarketers leave me alone," John said with a grin.

Her deep green eyes lit up, and she flashed her white teeth at him with a smile. He felt a distinct tug, but he looked away, embarrassed. He must have still been a little charged up from his rendezvous with Mel and Satomi earlier.

He got right into his tour script. "I understand you are the owner and publisher of Seshat Publishing. I visited your website earlier, so I got some background on the kinds of books you publish. I'm curious about where you see the fit between our two companies."

"You're a no-nonsense man. Straight to the point. I like that!" She gave him another of her dazzling megawatt smiles, and he felt that definite tug again, but he managed to ignore it and just smile back. Her smile wobbled a bit, and she moved on to keep the momentum going. "I understand you locate rare books and arrange these purchases for your customers." John nodded. "There are several books we are interested in obtaining that we've had very little success with. We would like to have your company find and acquire them for us to republish them under the Seshat label," she explained.

"That's certainly something we're set up to do," John said. "We have a very high success rate at finding and brokering deals on rare and hard-to-find books. Additionally, if your shop has the capability of scanning the contents of the books without altering their condition in any way, we might also be able to broker borrower deals with owners who are unwilling to sell their very rare books."

"That's wonderful! Now... some of the texts we'd like to reproduce are very ancient and may not be available in book format. They may be in scrolls, wood carvings, leather etchings... clay tablets. Is your company able to deal with such mediums? Do you... get requests like that?" she asked with a light tone.

John paused to try to read her expression. While he was a firm believer in coincidence, something felt... off. She had an open and curious expression, and John couldn't detect any subterfuge, but reading people really wasn't his strength. All the same, he decided to play it safe and not mention the current deals he had brokered for the scroll and tablet.

"We can deal with mediums other than books," was all he allowed.

"Good. Good." She sounded satisfied, but he thought he detected a tightening of her mouth like she was clenching her jaw.

John gave her a quick tour of the shop, which didn't take long at all. Along the way, he pointed out where Deron was busy working in his office in the far corner or looking busy at least, and where Franklin watched the cashier's desk or Kate in this instance. The young man looked like he was mesmerized by her. They walked past him into the stacks.

"What's back there?" Kate asked with interest evident in her voice as she pointed to the door at the back of the store. It could be seen at the end of the aisle they currently stood in.

"There? That's just a small stock room and the shipping area." She started to walk backward towards the door, all the while smiling and keeping her eyes on his. He was confused about why she was going back there, but her eyes were such an amazing shade of green, and her smile was so... inviting. He felt the tug once more, but now it felt like it was at full power. His focus seemed to be drawn to her eyes, becoming the only thing he ever wanted to see.

As they made their way slowly between the shelves of books towards the back door, Kate's soft voice kept up a gentle stream of conversation. "John, do you think I'm beautiful?"

He nodded.

"John, do you want me?"

He nodded again. Something moved on the other side of the bookshelf to the right, and John's attention almost swung in that direction, but Kate's gaze drew him back. He felt the pressure of her attention increase once more.

"John, would you like it if I said I wanted you too?"

A thrill ran up his spine, but it felt... wrong. The pressure increased, and his vision was starting to tunnel.

"John, you smell so good. I've never smelled anyone who scented quite like you. I want you so much."

Again, he was distracted by her odd choice of words which rubbed at his raw nerves. Each time she used his name, he felt his focus snap back to her.

They'd reached the back door and pushed into the small shipping area. There was a loading bay, a roll-up door with an old steel door next to it, and a work table that was largely empty at the moment. Kate made quick furtive glances around the room, always returning to look deeply into his eyes. Each glance away felt like a piece of his soul was being ripped from him only to be slammed back in place when she returned her attention to him once more.

Her voice continued to slip into his ears.

"John, do you believe in magic? In the expression of forces beyond the currently accepted physical laws?"

John felt himself shaking his head no.

"But John, I can tell you are carrying magic upon you. My locket is telling me you are wearing something magical." She paused as she ran her hands over his body. She stopped her hand over his and quickly glanced at his fingers. "Ah, that lovely ring!"

Kate slipped her body against John's, and he felt her soft curves pressing against his hard, trembling muscles. He felt her breath against his neck then her tongue was sliding up the side. The skin where her tongue touched went numb.

"Oh John, why am I behaving like this. So impulsive! But you're driving me to it. I can't think of anything other than tasting you!" she quivered in anticipation.

John's senses returned as the numbness spread down his shoulder. Alerts were going off in his sluggish brain, but he had trouble getting his body to cooperate. Something was wrong. He borrowed strength from the wolf who was there at his back but inexplicably fearful of the woman.

"STOP! Wait!" John pushed her away and blinked hard, shaking his head to clear away the wool.

"What? No, I'm hungry, and you smell sooo good!" she gushed as she grabbed his head and stared deeply into his eyes. When he felt the pressure returning, he closed his eyes and tried to pull her arms off of his head. Her strength was incredible. He couldn't pull them off or break her grip. In desperation, he pulled up his right leg between them and kicked her loose. Her nails raked across both sides of his face. She roared and came right back after him. She grabbed his shirt and threw him across the small space against the wall above the work table.

The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he lay on the hard surface, stunned. Kate stalked across the space and yanked his head to the side. She tried to bite down on his neck, but he wrenched his body to the side, and her teeth tore into his left shoulder instead. She latched on and sucked at the wound.

He screamed in agony and grabbed for something he could use as a weapon. He got his hands on the large scissors on the work table and swung them with all his strength. He felt them sink deeply into her side as she tore at his shoulder. She screamed and lurched away from him, yanking the scissors out and dragging him off the table onto the floor. She wobbled on her heels, and blood gushed from her side onto his back and over his injured shoulder. When her blood splashed into his wound, it felt like shards of ice stabbing into him, and he screamed again.

As his brain cleared, he felt the wolf crashing against his consciousness, demanding to be let out. He looked up from his position on the floor and froze in shock. Mel was standing at the door leading back into the store. He pushed himself to his feet and ran towards her. He saw Deron running towards them. Kate's angry scream behind him only gave him seconds to act.

He pushed Mel away from the door, back into the store towards Deron. "RUN!" he yelled.

He slammed the door closed and pulled a heavy shelving unit over in front of the door as he jumped back. He felt Kate's hand grab his injured shoulder, and her nails dug in as she threw him back across the room. He slammed into the push-bar on the back door and crashed through to fall into the alley. Agony racked his body. He felt broken bones grating in his back and chest. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the street light, but a head appeared to block his view.

"John? What happened to--"

"run," John wheezed as he tried to scream at Mr. Sass with his remaining strength.

Something dark came out of the back door, grabbed Mr. Sass by the throat, and lifted him in the air. John saw it was Kate Darrows, but she looked horrifying. Her jaws were extended, and her teeth were jagged fangs. Her green eyes had sunken into two black pits, and her hair was grey and stringy.

"John, you shouldn't have done that. Now I'll have to feed on this old man to fix the damage you've done. Then I'll get back to you." She bit into his neck, and Mr. Sass shook in her jaws. His hands went to his pockets, and shots suddenly went off in rapid succession.

Kate dropped Mr. Sass, but he kept firing on his way down. A lucky shot took the back of her head off when a bullet caught her under the chin.

John lay helpless on the laneway next to the crumpled body of Mr. Sass. Kate's body collapsed bonelessly on top of the old man, and her blood sprayed across both of them. Once more, John felt the icy sting biting into his shoulder, and he heard the old man hissing in pain as well.

"Mr. Sass! Hold on! Sirens. Help is on the way," John gasped weakly, looking at the old man's torn neck. Oh geezus, it didn't look good.

"I'm so sorry you got caught in this! I'm so sorry!" John cried as tears flowed down his face.

"No... John... Your mama... her note told me... watch over you...." The old man was struggling to suck in a breath, to keep talking, to confess something important to him. "She wrote... you were special. I'm glad... I could do this... for you... I'm done... It's up to you... from this point.... Take care, son."

And he was gone.

What was that about his mama? How could Mr. Sass know about his mother and the note? John's mind swam as he started to black out. He caught a glimpse of flashing lights moving up the alley, then welcoming darkness took him away from the pain.

Chapter 11

The steady beep was back, but it seemed slower than usual this time.

A vague memory of the blissful clouds faded as he surfaced.

He slowly opened his eyes, but no one was reading his chart at the end of the bed.

"Oh, that's right, Mr. Sass is dead," he thought. Tears burst from his eyes as he recalled the last words the old man had said to him.

Take care, son.

He cried long and hard, grieving the loss of a man he hardly knew but meant more to him than he realized. He wept until exhaustion took him back into its embrace.

When he woke again, he found he had a visitor this time. Detective Luis Molina was once again sitting in a chair beside his bed. John lifted both wrists and saw he was not handcuffed to the bed this time. The detective caught the motion and smiled.

"Since you got out of them last time, I figured, why bother?" he said.

John recalled how Mr. Sass took them off, and his face fell. He struggled to keep the tears at bay.

"Hey now, here, take a tissue," Molina said, handing him a box.

John grabbed a few and wiped his eyes. "Sorry."

"You've had a very rough time the last few weeks. Worst luck I've ever seen," the detective said, his eyes steady on John.

Even he could see that Molina was having doubts about his innocence again. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"How long have you known Michael Okorie?" the detective replied.

"Who?"

"The old man who died next to you in the alley three days ago," Molina stated.

"Three days!?!" John gasped.

"Yeah, you were pretty busted up and were unconscious for some time. Back to my question," he said bluntly.

"What? Uh, I didn't know his real name. I've always called him Mr. Sass," John said, shaken by yet another gap in time.

"S-A-S?" Molina asked, spelling it out.

"No, double-S. As in sass talk or being sassy." Molina continued to stare at him, so he went on. "I first met him four years ago outside the book store." His mind reeled at the time that had passed. He continued, speaking slowly to keep a lid on his tears.

"I said good morning, and he immediately sprung a pop history quiz on me. I got one of my answers wrong, and he made fun of my lack of smarts for not getting a perfect score. He had a sharp tongue, but he smiled as he said it, so you knew it was for fun." John rubbed his eyes again as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Once he had control again, he continued. "I-I said to him, who are you, Mr. Sass? After failing his test, this made me feel especially stupid, but he looked at me in surprise and started to laugh. He liked the name, so it stuck." God, he was going to miss the old man.

"So you met him four years ago. How well did you know him? Other than not knowing his real name?" the detective asked.

John winced. He wasn't the type of person who tried to get to know people. That was the truth of it. Keeping them at arm's length was safer. John looked up at Molina and saw he was getting impatient for an answer. "I hardly knew him at all. We greeted each other some mornings and said goodnight if he was there at night. He would be outside the store but off and on. When I was in the hospital the first time, I woke up, and he was reading my chart. He got past the nurse's station and sat with me awhile. He told my boss where I was so he could take me home when I got out. He also showed up the second time I was here. He was the one who undid the handcuff. I think he may also have been the one to get my release from the hospital expedited, contrary to Dr. Smiley's wishes. I don't know how, but it just feels like it was him."

"Seems like a pretty big effort for someone you hardly knew," the detective shot back.

Tears did come then as the guilt washed over him. The old man had been there for him, and he still kept him at a distance. Then John got him killed. Sobs racked his body, and his injuries complained, causing him to hiss and moan from the pain. His heart rate climbed, and the alarm went off. A nurse arrived and shooed the detective away. Dr. Giamatto burst through the curtain, and everything went black.

When John woke up again, he was in a private room. There was a window to his right, and he could see a grey overcast sky. He was a little worried about how his situation got bumped up to the lofty heights of a private room.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and a moment later, it opened to allow a stranger to enter. He was a tall man with neatly combed back grey hair and an impeccably tailored suit. He was carrying a black briefcase and had a professional smile.

"Mr. Doe? My name is Daniel Evans. I was the lawyer for the late Wallace Laroche and now handle his estate. I would have come to speak with you earlier, but I had difficulty locating you. Your name is very effective at blocking searches. I was contacted by Detective Molina, who informed me that you were back in the hospital, so I came straight away. I hope you don't mind, but I've upgraded your room so that we may have a private meeting. Do you have any questions so far?"

John blinked in surprise at the lawyer. "I didn't know Mr. Laroche. Our encounter only lasted a few minutes at most before he died. He didn't really say too much to me. I'm not sure why we are meeting."

The man sat beside the bed and opened his briefcase. He took out a small device and flipped it on. John winced as a high-pitched whine emanated from it.

"You can hear that?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes, you can't?" John asked, grimacing.

"Fascinating!" the older gentleman said. "Please bear with it as it eliminates electronic surveillance. I have a partner standing watch at the door, so we should be undisturbed for our meeting."

John just stared at the man in confusion.

"While this may seem like a breach of privacy, when I first found you in the hospital, you were unconscious, so I peeled back the tape on your finger to confirm you are indeed wearing the ring Wallace Laroche gave to you as he died. It was critically important that I confirmed that fact before I proceeded. Please forgive the intrusion."

John felt a little weird about the man looking at his finger while he slept. "Why did you need to see the ring?" he asked.

"Though I did confirm with Detective Molina that you were the first on the scene, that you had reportedly spoken to Mr. Laroche before he died, and that you had sustained injuries characteristic of a wolf bite, it is the fact that you can wear the ring, and it fits, which validates the contract Wallace made with you before he died. I will explain the contract momentarily, but please understand that my firm required this proof due to specific wording in Wallace's will before we could meet with you in this way. Is this clear?"

John kind of understood that last part, so he nodded.

"Excellent!" Daniel smiled. "While you didn't personally know Wallace Laroche, your life may have been touched by him in minor ways by using products from the companies he was responsible for creating and running for decades. He was an extremely successful businessman, and after many decades of being successful, he became extraordinarily wealthy. I don't have the current number with me, but his net worth at the time of his death was somewhere close to one hundred and fifty billion. He retired approximately 10 years ago when his wife suddenly passed away. Her loss was a devastating blow for the man, and without her, he was much like a boat without a rudder. He struggled to find a new purpose in his life, but when you found him, he'd given up. He mailed a letter to me the day before he took steps to end his life. In the letter, he explained his intentions and the steps he would follow. Part of his being a successful businessman was that he was a stickler for having contingency plans. He outlined what we were to do if he was not... completely successful. This is the contract I mentioned earlier."

John watched the man, but he hadn't said anything that connected him to this Wallace fellow yet, so he waited silently.

"This is where the sensitive information comes into play. You may find it difficult to understand or even believe, but as you are likely to have experienced unusual physical manifestations or uncharacteristic behaviors since the time you were bitten, what I tell you now explains why they are happening to you. You will need to open your mind to areas beyond your current knowledge base." He paused to see if he still had John's attention, which he did.

"Wallace Laroche had a unique symbiotic relationship with an ancient living entity which manifests as a large, black wolf. You reported seeing this to Detective Molina. When Wallace decided to end his life, he took himself to a secluded spot he had very good memories of and used an extremely sharp dagger to inflict a mortal wound with the least amount of violence he could. He did this to maintain a calm and comfortable situation that would not alert the entity. You see, Wallace intended to take it with him when he died. While he did not divulge his exact meaning, Wallace expressed that there was a great cost to being in a symbiotic relationship with this creature. He was unwilling to transfer that cost to another living soul. If he'd been successful, he would have slipped gently into death, and the entity would have died as well. You see, it needs a living host to survive. Apparently, the entity did take notice of Wallace's imminent death and found a way to draw you to the man's side. Then, as the wolf, it took over the weakened man to inflict a wound sufficiently grave to transfer itself to you. Wallace's contingency plan addressed that scenario. We were to look for an injured person found near him or someone reporting to have been the first on the scene. If that person could wear the ring, Wallace would have freely given the ring to them to assist with dealing with the entity. It has special properties--"

"Magic," John whispered, recalling what Kate Darrows told him before she turned into a monster and killed Mr. Sass.

The lawyer caught his expression and paused. "Yes, exactly. Apparently, magic does exist in some limited forms and can be found in rare items like the ring. When given freely, the ring resizes to the new host and prevents full physical manifestation of the entity. It won't block mental dominance, so you must exert your own will for that. Wallace explained that the entity is vastly ancient and has an extremely strong will. I hope you haven't encountered any serious hardships in your dealings with it so far."

John stared at the lawyer like a lifeline. Someone who knew what he was going through! "It took me for a fifty-five run one night at a world record pace and made me eat at least one rabbit, raw. It also likes kissing one of my female coworkers and has eyes for another. So, considering what it could be making me do... I guess I should consider myself lucky. I have so many questions--"

"Unfortunately, I'm not the one with the answers," the lawyer cautioned, holding up a hand. "Mr. Laroche did not divulge the inner workings of his symbiotic relationship. You will have to find answers elsewhere, I'm sorry. I suggest you be very discreet in your research. Wallace mentioned that he spent a great deal of time working on the wolf to get it to agree to let him bring my firm into his confidence. He personally told me that the entity will do its best to maintain its safety and anonymity. This means if you prove to be a poor host, it will find a way to replace you, which will be... fatal to you. I suggest that you find a way to come to terms with it. Communicate with it if you can. Find out what it wants and do your best to find a balance with it. Once you have done this, let it out in a safe environment. Wallace told me the ring is not meant to be a prison, just a temporary cease-fire until all parties are ready. Is that understood?"

John nodded, eyes wide with dismay at how little he knew about the entity living inside him.

"This brings me to the second point we need to discuss. The contingency plan Wallace set up had compensation for the new host for bearing the burden of the entity. If he could not prevent the entity from transferring to a new host, the host would become the sole inheritor of the Laroche estate. You can now afford to spend the time to find the answers you need."

"What? Wait a minute. What?" John was having trouble absorbing that last bit of information.

"You are the sole heir of the estate of Wallace Laroche. You are independently wealthy. Again, I pass along a little advice about how Wallace lived. Be discreet about your new wealth. Avoid fame and notoriety as this is likely to make the entity feel threatened. And... you don't want that."

"Additionally, I am your legal counsel as of this moment. My firm is on retainer for any and all legal matters you may have in the future. I need you to sign these papers confirming you accept the estate transfer terms." He pulled two neat sheets of paper from the case and a pen.

"This one indicates you willingly accept the ownership of all assets of the Laroche estate and none of the debts or outstanding litigation. Please note that Wallace had no debts, nor was he involved in any legal suits at the moment, but this text protects you from any just the same. Sign here."

In a daze, John signed.

"This one indicates you will continue to retain our firm for all legal matters for a period of ten years with annual increases in compensation of two point three percent. Our service contract will be renegotiated after that period. Sign here."

John signed.

"Thank you." Daniel tucked the papers back into his briefcase.

"As your legal representatives, we are already working on the case of Kate Darrows' attack on you in the book store. We were very fortunate your employer shared the video footage from the security camera in the shipping and receiving area. While the image quality isn't optimal, it's enough to clearly show the woman's violent attack on you.

"We also got a video statement from your co-worker Melanie Singh who stated that she heard Mrs. Darrows attempt to seduce you and saw her lead you into the back room. She followed and listened as you attempted to repel Mrs. Darrows' advances and were savagely attacked.

"Detective Molina wants to meet with you again. This time you will have legal representation at your side to prevent him from using heavy-handed techniques as he did the last time he met with you. That representation will come from our Portland office, so you will be able to receive local assistance. I will introduce you shortly. I work out of our office in Seattle. One of the assets you have assumed is Wallace's condo in Seattle. I would suggest you start there in your quest for answers. I have a bank card for you to pay for a flight to Seattle when you're ready. Its access code is currently five-six-four-six-three-six-three, which spells John Doe. Feel free to change it. I will leave it and directions to the condo with your lawyer here in Portland, and when you get there, you just need to speak with the concierge and show him your ID to get access." He smiled at the slightly dazed look on John's face.

"Do you have any questions?" the lawyer asked.

"Yeah, I'd like to arrange for a funeral for Mr. Sass... I mean Michael Okorie. He deserves that, at least. How do I go about that?" John asked.

"That was the older gentleman who died in the alley? I'll have the Portland office look into it for you," he replied. The high-pitched whine ceased as the lawyer turned off the device and placed it back into the briefcase. "Please give me a minute to bring in the lawyer overseeing your case locally." He stood and left the room for a minute. When he returned, he was followed by a petite woman with short black hair. She was dressed in an immaculate suit which showed off her well-toned physique.

John jolted with recognition. It was Carol from the yoga studio! He saw she recognized him as well, and her smile was wide and satisfied. "Hello, John," she said.

"Hi, Carol," he replied.

Daniel paused. "You two have met? Do you know each other? Is that going to be an issue?"

"Not for me," she said.

"No, it's fine. We met only once before in a class at my landlady's Yoga studio," John answered. Carol's smile got just a little broader at his acceptance of her.

"Good. Carol Lozinski was recently made a partner in the firm and has done some truly excellent work. She is fully aware of the special circumstances involved in representing you, and you can have the utmost confidence in her as you are in excellent hands. I must head back to Seattle to begin tackling the mountain of legal paperwork your signature has set into motion. If you need anything, please feel free to let me know or, of course, Carol. We are at your disposal. It was very nice to finally meet you, John. I look forward to working with you," Daniel said as he sealed his briefcase and nodded to them both as he left.

Soon, John and Carol were facing each other in the quiet private room. "Maybe now we can get that drink?" she said with a smile.

"Is that such a good idea considering you're my lawyer?" he asked.

"One thing lawyers are especially good at is separating business from pleasure. I am, at least," she said with a confident smile.

John felt just a little bit intimidated, so he changed the subject. "I mentioned to Mr. Evans that I want to have a funeral for Michael Okorie, the man who died in the alley that night. Can you make sure that happens? I want to attend it."

"Certainly, I'll make the arrangements directly after our interview with Detective Molina. Are you feeling up to seeing him now? I saw him in the hallway earlier," Carol said, easily switching roles from seductress to legal counsel.

"Uh, sure," he replied.

A few minutes later, Carol returned with the detective in tow. The scowl on his face let John know how thrilled he was with the new situation.

"Good morning, detective," John said.

Molina grunted and sat in the chair on the right side of the bed. Carol sat on the edge of the bed in front of the detective and crossed her arms. The message was clear. John wasn't on his own anymore. Molina glared briefly at the lawyer, then turned to John.

"Since when does a book store clerk's salary pay for a private hospital room and a lawyer from one of Portland's most prestigious law firms?" he growled.

John looked from the detective to Carol and raised his eyebrows. "It's official since you signed the paperwork, so you can tell him if you wish," she said sweetly.

John looked back at Detective Molina, and the enormity of what had just happened to him sank in. He opened his mouth to tell him but closed it again when nothing came out. He sat speechless for a few seconds, then looked back to his lawyer.

"Should I?" she asked, and he just nodded.

"My client was just informed that he's been named the sole inheritor of Wallace Laroche's estate. His portfolio was worth billions. Now that belongs to John. Our law firm is on retainer for all of John's legal needs. That is how he can afford the room upgrade and our legal representation."

John's face still betrayed his shock.

Detective Molina leaned back in his chair and stared hard at John. Unlucky bugger indeed.

"Will he be leaving shortly to begin counting his money, or does he have time to answer the questions of a lowly civil servant?"

John felt that verbal slap, and it immediately snapped him out of his daze. Before Carol could speak, John raised his hand. She sat back and waited for her client.

"Sorry for my strange behavior this morning, detective. As Ms. Lozinski just mentioned, I only found out a few minutes ago that Mr. Laroche had a rather strange and unique set of instructions in place in his will to reward the first on the scene with his estate. I'm still a little shell-shocked. Of course, I'll answer your questions. Please, go ahead."

"Thank you. When I spoke with you three days ago, we determined that you didn't know much about Michael Okorie, AKA Mr. Sass. Is this still your statement?" he asked.

"Another three days?" John asked, stunned.

"What? They didn't tell you? You've been out for three days since we last met," he said gruffly.

"Dammit! I keep losing days!" He sighed in frustration. "Whatever. Yes, that is the truth of the matter. For four years, we greeted each other and spoke trivialities once a day to every two days, but he never offered anything more personal, and I never asked him for anything more. He listened to me talk about my day and troubles, and there were no judgments. Now that he's dead, I feel like the inconsiderate shit I am for not paying more attention to him. He was pretty private, but maybe I should have tried harder to draw more out of him, but it's just not in my nature to open up to people. I never understood how important he'd become to me. So... no, I didn't know him, and now I never will," John said bitterly.

Molina nodded and looked at his notes. "You said you gave him the name Mr. Sass. Were you aware that his last occupation was that of a soldier in the British Special Air Service, S.A.S.?"

John snorted in surprise. "Son-of-a-bitch! No wonder he thought it was so funny!"

"I'll take that as a no," Molina said. "While he was in the S.A.S., he had a long career doing black ops for the British government. After a considerable number of years, he washed out because he'd begun to suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, went a little loopy, and disappeared underground. I think he was worried about being silenced by his own government to keep their secrets, but that's just my read on the situation. He vanished and didn't resurface until he showed up dead in our morgue. How did he happen to be in that alley at that time, John?"

"I'd asked him to dinner two nights earlier, but he put me off, saying something had come up. I assume he was in the alley that night because he was going to take me up on my offer to go out to dinner," John replied.

"You were going to take him to dinner?" Molina asked, surprised.

"Yes, I wanted to talk with him. Maybe ask questions like, what's your name? How are you doing living on the street? Is there anything I can do to make your situation better? He told me in the hospital that he understood some of my issues, coming to terms with being attacked. He told me he could help me with that. Frankly, just his listening was enough," John said.

"Okay, let's move on to the night of the altercation in the book store. Please describe the events as you remember them," the detective asked.

"Franklin called me down to the cashier's desk at five," John recalled. "After the usual greetings, I asked Kate Darrows what Century Traveler could do for her. She thought our companies could do business, maybe find some texts for them. Then I gave her a tour of the store. We ended up in front of the aisle that leads to the backroom. She wanted to see what was back there, it's off-limits to anyone but staff, but she just kept walking back towards the door. She was talking to me, but I can't recall the exact words she said. Then we were in the shipping room, and she was pressing herself against me. I remember pushing her away and telling her to stop, but she got angry and threw me up against the wall above the work table. That knocked me silly, and she walked over and tried to bite me on my neck but got me on the shoulder instead. The pain was excruciating, and I hit her with something... no, stabbed her with the scissors to get away. I rolled off the table and saw Mel. I pushed her back into the store and blocked the door. Kate threw me out the back door into the alley. I broke some bones on the way out and couldn't move. Mr. Sass--uh, Michael Okorie was there, but before I could tell him to run, Kate grabbed him and bit him very badly on the neck. That's when he shot her. He blew her head off, and blood was everywhere. He died from his wounds, and I passed out."

Carol leaned forward and looked directly into the eyes of the detective. "We have the security camera footage and a video statement from John's co-worker Melanie Singh, corroborating John's statement. I'll have these files sent to your precinct."

"The first time we met, you told me that Wallace Laroche, a complete stranger to you, bit you while you were out hiking. Now you say you were bitten by another complete stranger, this time at your place of work. The doctor clearly indicated that the bite wounds could not have been made by human teeth in both events. Care to explain that?" Molina asked.

"My perception of what happened to me in the first attack was obviously messed up by being terrified by the wolf and the injuries I got from falling down that cliff. As for Kate Darrows, you'll have to watch the video. I know she bit me then Mr. Sass. If the bite marks don't line up with human teeth, I can't explain that except to say she wasn't biting to leave clear dental impressions. She was chewing and ripping to make as nasty a wound as possible. She was scary strong, so maybe she was on something? Have you examined her teeth? Maybe she was wearing some kind of weird dentures?" John suggested.

"We've examined what's left of Mrs. Darrows' head, and no, there were no indications of weird dentures. As for testing her blood for drugs, I've been told she's completely dry. She bled out more completely than we've encountered before. There was more of her blood on you and Michael Okorie than inside her. The forensic techs told me there wasn't enough viable blood left to run any tests. Like you said, weird."

The detective pushed back and gave John a long hard look. "I don't like cases with weird twists, and it feels like that's all I'm going to find around you."

John just looked back at Molina and gestured helplessly.

The detective grunted, then got up to leave and spat the standard line. "Don't leave town."

"My client has estate business in Seattle, which he will need to attend to once he's healed enough to travel. If you still have questions for him at that time, you can reach him through me," Carol said.

Molina scowled and left.

Carol turned to John with a big smile. "You handled yourself quite well."

"I definitely got the impression that he was handling me with kid gloves compared to last time. I think I have you to thank for that," John replied.

"You can show me your thanks by taking me up on my offer for a drink," she said with a wink.

John smiled back. "Deal."

"Excellent! You just rest and get better. Get your strength back. I think this partnership is going to work out very well." Her smile got a little more seductive. "I'll leave you my card. You can call that number day or night for my immediate attention. I'm going to contact a funeral home to begin preparations for Mr. Okorie's funeral."

"Thank you. Could I also ask you to call Anna and let her know I'm okay?"

"I'm sorry, I should have told you. I called her the moment we found you in the hospital, and I've kept her in the loop regarding your condition. She won't come to the hospital, but she's waiting for you at your home, and she's glad you're okay," Carol said.

After she left the room, John leaned back and let the latest news sink in. It was still a little too much to absorb. He'd think about it later.

For now, he wanted to follow his lawyer's advice and try to communicate with the wolf, or the symbiotic entity, as Mr. Evans called it. So far, he just thought of it as the wolf, and he'd felt no resistance to that, so wolf it was. John closed his eyes and looked inwards, for the first time consciously seeking out the presence he'd struggled against so often recently. Usually, it was close beneath the surface, but this time John had to make an effort to find it as it seemed to be... hiding?

Before he could reach the wolf, he felt... something else. The hint of a presence. John felt an ephemeral skittering across his mind as if it was trying to hide from his perception. It was... frightened? He pictured himself standing still in his mind holding out his hand. Slowly, the edges of this picture got darker as he felt it begin to reach back to him. There was darkness and cold, and it suddenly rushed down from all sides to envelop him. John wasn't frightened as he knew its intent. Such an intimate contact left nothing hidden. It wasn't attacking. It was looking for a connection. It was lost and... old. The impression of age was beyond John's comprehension. It must have been ancient. John couldn't sense an intellect behind its formidable will. It was incomplete and seemed to be instinctively looking for its missing self.

John wasn't sure what to do. How could he help it? While it surprised him, his first instinct was to help... but how? Not knowing what else to do, John visualized gathering in the shapeless darkness into a hug. He embraced it to him, and taking a lesson from Mr. Sass, he just tried to accept it. He didn't know if he was doing it right, but something seemed to click, and in his visualization, the darkness was absorbed into his body and settled into the back of his mind, waiting. He felt its... gratitude? Acceptance? No, less of an emotional connection than a purely intellectual one.

Tranquility, at least. It was content.

He had no idea what it was. It certainly wasn't the wolf. It felt completely different. Cool. Instinctive. Old and powerful but incomplete. God, it was getting crowded in his head.

Now that the coast was clear, John found himself nose to snout with the wolf, sitting before him in his mind. While the image of the beast still triggered some nervousness, he could do no less for it than he'd just done for... the darkness. John opened his arms, and the wolf was immediately there. He wrapped it in a hug, and suddenly, he smelled damp earth, dew-covered grass, cool winds with a hint of rain coming, a forest of new growth, and the decay of the fallen. While he was a great lover of nature and took as many opportunities as he could to be out in it, he'd never before felt this attuned to it, and he felt grateful for the small taste the wolf had given him. Pushing aside instincts built from his years of being alone, John opened his heart to the wolf. The response was immediate and overwhelming. Where the darkness had been an intellectual bonding, the wolf was raw emotion, and a flood of it poured over him! The wolf was lonely! It needed companionship. John couldn't speak with the beast verbally as it was a primal force, but its emotions, needs, and desires flowed through him. The intensity of these was profound, now that he'd fully opened himself to it. John struggled to moderate the incoming torrent from the wolf. Seeming to understand, the wolf retreated into the back of his mind but left him with a definite sense of gratitude, acceptance, and... joy. John's eyes popped open, and he found his doctor standing at the edge of his bed with his usual grim look on his face.

"Oh, Doctor Giamatto! How are you?" John said, struggling to get his breathing back to normal. His encounter with the wolf was still echoing through his mind. He became aware that he was trembling, and tears ran down his cheeks, so he reached for some tissue.

"I'm fine, Mr. Doe. I'm more concerned about you. I just came in to see how you were doing, and I find you growling, barking, shivering, and now weeping."

"Just a bad dream. I get them more often these days. May have something to do with my being attacked... twice," he answered.

"A dream. So you say you were sleeping just then," the doctor said skeptically.

"Yes," John replied, staring the doctor in the eye. He felt the wolf behind him, lending him strength.

The doctor blinked first. "Right. Here you are back in my hospital, and this time you were the victim of a savage beating and, apparently, another bite wound, this time on the opposite shoulder. You lost a lot of blood and broke bones in your back and chest. Of course, all of which are well on their way to being healed."

"So when do I get to leave?" John asked.

The doctor's grimace increased. He seemed about to say something but swallowed it back down like a bitter pill. "A few more days should see you back on your feet." He turned and left without another word. John felt a little sorry for the doctor. The man was right, but John couldn't help him as that might risk exposing the wolf, something he wouldn't do.

There was a gentle knock at the door. John looked over as the door opened, and he saw Mel's nervous face peeking in.

"Come in, I'm decent," he joked.

Mel's face split into a shy smile, and she entered the room to walk up to the bed.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I feel surprisingly good for someone who got used as a crash test dummy!" he said.

"Well, they picked the right guy for the role of the dummy," she chuckled.

"ZING! Ouch! I guess I set myself up for that one! I must have hit my head when I was thrown out the door, dropped my IQ down to yours," he grinned.

She tried to smile, but it broke as her lips trembled. Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" John reached with his left arm for the box of tissues, but Mel was suddenly leaning over the bed to cry on his chest. Small sharp pains shot through his front and back from her weight resting on him.

"Mel! Broken ribs!" he gasped.

"OH! I'm so sorry! Oh my god! I'm sorry," she cried as she suddenly realized what she was doing and made to rush from the room, but John snagged her arm before she could leave his side.

"Mel! Talk to me! It's okay!" he said gently.

"We thought... we thought you had died, again!" she managed to stutter through her tears.

"You can see that rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated." He gestured across his body. "I understand you gave a statement to my lawyer. I wanted to thank you for that. I'm also sorry if I hurt you when I pushed you away from the door."

"John!" she looked at him in disbelief. "You saved us! You were being beaten and torn apart, yet you got off the floor, all bloody, and rushed to the door. You somehow threw me from the door to halfway down the aisle into Deron's arms, and I don't have so much as a bruise. We heard the crash of the shelving when you blocked the door. Deron pulled Franklin and me out the front door and called the police. We heard the terrible screams and crashing. Then we heard gunshots. It took almost a full day before they'd tell us that you were still alive. I'm so sorry to hear about Mr. Sass. I know you liked him a lot."

Pain of another sort went through John's chest. "Yeah, I'm going to give him a funeral. I'm going to ask everyone at the shop if they'd like to join me," he said.

"Funerals are so expensive, John! Maybe we could have a memorial service or something." Mel knew John was perpetually watching his budget, and unlike her, he didn't have a big family trust fund to pay for all of his expenses.

"It's okay, Mel. I, uh... came into some money, a reward really, for finding that man in the woods. I can afford the funeral," he assured her.

Mel was quiet for a few moments, then dropped her eyes to look at the bed. "I saw it," she whispered.

"Saw what?" he asked.

"The monster attacking you," her voice barely a whisper now. He could see she was trembling. The mental image was extremely painful to her.

"Come here." Without thinking, John pulled Mel up onto the bed next to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She was still trembling. The pressure on his shoulder was painful, but John just gritted his teeth as Mel needed this. He wanted to make her pain and fear go away. She didn't need to be carrying that terrible image in her mind.

"Kate Darrows was pretty messed up. I think she was taking some serious drugs to make her so strong. But the side effect really screwed up her head. At first, she was very pretty, but she got ugly when she didn't get her way. The shock of her sudden behavior change and how brutally violent she became made me see her as a monster too. She was just a woman, though. The mind can do some weird things when it's in shock. The main thing to remember is that we survived and can move on with our lives. She's gone, and she's never coming back," he assured her as he soothingly rubbed her head. The scalp massage did the trick. He could feel her relaxing.

Soon Mel's breathing was deep and even. He looked down and caught the last impression of a soft white light radiating from his hand through her ebony hair. He jolted and pulled his hand away, and the light trailed after it like a wispy fog before it faded. He looked at his hand, but it looked normal to him. He looked inward to the wolf, but it felt confused too. The darkness just squeezed itself deeper into the depths of his mind, clearly unsettled by the white light.

He heard a sound, and Deron pushed into the room. The big man frowned when he saw Melanie on the bed, but his expression softened when he got closer and saw her peacefully sleeping. John watched his shoulders drop with relief. Finally, he smiled at John, who reached out with his left hand, and they shook awkwardly.

"The girl hasn't slept since that night. Says she has nightmares," Deron whispered to John, who nodded with a grim frown.

Satomi slipped into the room and stood next to Mel, smiling with relief at her friend. She took John's hand and kissed its palm, causing him to blush. She burst into a bright smile and left with a wave. Deron shook his head, and John just nodded. Deron headed back to the door and grabbed Franklin, who was just opening his mouth to bellow something obnoxious at the sight of Mel in John's bed. All Franklin managed was a squeak before he was dragged out into the hall again.

The day's events caught up to John, and he let his eyes close. He was gone.

Chapter 12

True to his word, Dr. Giamatto released John from the hospital three days later.

Mel hadn't returned for another visit after falling asleep on his bed. She'd been gone when he awoke later that night. The following day, he'd called the store, and Deron told him Mel looked well rested and was back to her usual cheeky self. He asked when John would be back. The tablet had come in, and the authentication and assessment were underway. Deron checked and said there hadn't been any further communication from the buyer, but the seller was anxious to hear some news. He promised to send a note to the seller letting her know the assessment was being done.

John took a cab back to Anna's house, and she welcomed him in with a careful hug that still threatened to suffocate the healing man. Not that he complained. It really felt like he was coming home.

As they sat in the living room drinking tea and eating biscuits, John filled her in on what had happened to him. He felt no unease from the wolf, so he knew Anna was considered a safe confidante.

He explained how he and the wolf had bonded and how good that had been. Then he mentioned the other. Anna was dismayed to hear that he seemed to be the host for yet another entity. He told her it seemed content to just be and hadn't manifested any behaviors of its own... yet.

This brought him to his other news, which he wasn't sure how to broach as it potentially impacted his staying with her. He still hadn't really grasped how much this would change his life. Before he could mention anything, his cellphone rang. He apologized to Anna but said it was his lawyer, so he had to take it.

He walked into the kitchen and answered.

"Hi Carol, what's up?"

"Hi John, listen, I have some bad news. I just heard back from the funeral home. They went to the morgue to pick up Michael Okorie's body, but it wasn't there. The medical examiner reported it missing the night after the attack, but it's probably due to a clerical error. It's very likely that, as he was one of Portland's transient population, his body was fast-tracked to cremation to make room at the morgue. As harsh as it sounds, very few people come to claim the bodies of street people. I'm very sorry."

John stood frozen in the kitchen, guilt pounding on him for not moving quicker. Even in this, he failed his friend. He sunk to the floor and began to cry. Anna stepped in and took the phone from his limp hand. She murmured something into it, listened, then she hung up. Then she gathered John's head in her lap, gently stroked his hair, and made soothing sounds as the sobs racked through him.

When they finally ran their course and John came back to himself, he looked up, and she smiled down at him.

"We're making a habit of this. Thank you." It was all he could say.

"You are most welcome. Now go wash that hospital stink off of you," Anna said with a gentle smile.

"Right." He pushed himself to his feet as she did the same. She patted the back of his head as he made his way to the back door, so he turned and gave her a big hug. Then he stepped outside and trotted down the stairs to get cleaned up. He missed the tears in her eyes and the smile on her face, followed by her noticing the hospital stink was now on her. She grimaced and made her way to her own shower.

-=-

The next morning when he left the house to go to work, a black luxury sports car was parked out in front of the house. As he walked down the lane towards the sidewalk, the car door opened, and Carol stepped out. When he was close enough for them to speak, she stepped forward.

"I just wanted to apologize for the insensitive way I gave you the news yesterday. I'm very sorry for your loss," she said.

"Thank you, but you don't need to apologize. It wasn't your fault," John said.

"No, I should have realized he was someone important to you and showed more respect when I told you," she replied contritely.

"Carol, it's fine. Let's move on," he said, a little annoyed by her subservient attitude, which felt... wrong. Something clicked. "Are you worried you've offended one of the firm's biggest clients just after you made partner?" From the way her expression locked, he saw he'd guessed correctly. John sighed as he watched her expression flit from nervousness to defiance and back. "Like I said, it's fine. You haven't jeopardized anything... yet. But hear me now, I can smell a lie. Above all else, be honest with me... even at the expense of my feelings."

She nodded, and he saw the relief on her face. It must have been a tough night for her. Worrying that she'd done something to screw up her carefully planned rise to power. He made another intuitive leap. "Tell me something. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the biggest, most important client your firm works for, how do I stack up?"

"Eleven," she said immediately.

"Really?" he said and read the truth in her stance. She was damn proud of her accomplishment. "Well, good for you," he said.

She smiled, and the seductive look was back. "Can I give you a lift somewhere?" she said.

"Sure, you can take me to the book store," he said and made his way to the passenger side.

"Saying your goodbyes?" she asked.

"What? No, I'm going to work," he responded.

"What? Did you miss the part about the billions?" she asked, incredulous.

"They weren't enough to keep Mr. Laroche alive. He'd lost his purpose when his wife died, and all that money was a poor substitute for a life partner." He got in and fastened his seatbelt.

Carol slipped behind the wheel and buckled in. She had that troubled look on her face again.

He knew she was holding something back. Something bad. "Talk to me, Carol," he said.

"If you were considering one of your co-workers to fill that role, you might wish to reconsider. When I'd proved myself enough to be made partner, I was fully briefed on the uniqueness of our primary client. One fact above all others sunk into my mind. Longevity, John. Wallace was six-hundred-and-sixty-eight years old. His wife was like him, a symbiote carrier. She was six-hundred-and-fifty-one years old when she died in a fiery car crash. Both she and her symbiotic entity perished."

John stared at Carol's earnest expression, then leaned back in his seat. She started the car and drove while this new factoid circled around in his brain. He looked inside and found the wolf. He supposed it had lost its mate when Wallace's wife perished. His heart went out to it, and he felt another quick brush with nature as it accepted his sympathy. The complexities of dealing with finding a compatible mate for both of them seemed daunting at the moment, so he parked that. As he returned from his thoughts, he noticed Carol biting her lip as she drove up the street to the store. He would have found that very sexy if it weren't combined with the worried glances she was occasionally casting his way.

"Could you drop me off here? I'd like to walk the last few blocks. Get some air," he said.

"Sure!" She swooped into a parking spot by the curb and turned to him.

"Carol, what you told me about Wallace is exactly the kind of honest answer I need from you. I can't do anything until I know more about my new situation, and you were very helpful. Thank you."

Her sultry smile returned full force, and John thought back to that lip bite. The wolf decided he'd waited long enough. John slowly leaned across the seat, and Carol met him halfway. Their lips met, and John tasted Carol's tongue as it slid into his mouth. Her lips were fastened around his own tongue, and she was doing her best to dominate their kiss. John let the wolf loose a little, and his right hand slipped up to grip the hair on the back of her head. He growled deep in his chest, and his eyes flashed gold as he slid his lips down her exposed throat. The vibrations of his growl sank through her tender flesh, and he felt her shiver deeply. He could tell she was both frightened and incredibly turned on. Her breath was coming in deep gasps, and her hand was frantically grabbing at his belt.

"No time for that," he rumbled, and she moaned. He gave her another deep kiss, keeping his gold eyes open and looking deeply into the dark brown depths of hers. When they began to flutter, he pulled back from the kiss. The gold faded back to his normal hazel. He ran his eyes over her moist and swollen lips and down to her breasts which strained against the fabric of her white silk blouse. He really wished he had time to explore, but they were sitting in a car on a public road. He released her hair and combed his fingers through it to return it to its neat order. She leaned back against his fingers as they raked the back of her neck.

Carol smiled dreamily at John, who was feeling pretty steamed up himself. "Business before pleasure, right?" she breathed.

He sighed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Call me later. We can get that drink you promised and maybe finish off what we started here?" she asked, her tone almost making it a command. The wolf wanted to respond to her challenge, but John dragged himself out of the car as she chuckled. She'd read him pretty well.

John walked the remaining blocks to work and thought about Carol. He knew she was not the kind of person who valued romantic love. For her, he was a trophy marking the next achievement in her life plan. He was just a quick thrill. He understood that. He certainly wasn't falling in love with her. The wolf definitely wanted to play her game, and if he was being honest with himself, so did he. She was exciting, and for once, he didn't have to worry about reading the emotional cues and hurting her feelings. There was a kind of freedom in that kind of relationship, but ultimately, he knew he wanted to find someone to love.

He thought about what Carol had disclosed to him regarding longevity. If the side effect of being linked to an entity like the wolf extended a normal human lifespan into hundreds of years, he'd be forced to watch anyone he fell in love with grow old and die as he remained unchanged. That would be torture. His only real option was to find someone else who was in the same state. That meant he'd have to begin researching what he was. The lawyer from Seattle was right. His first step would be going to Wallace Laroche's condo to look for clues there. He wasn't expecting to find the man's diary with a guide to everything-you-wanted-to-know-about-living-with-an-ancient-symbiote, but it was a place to start. Wallace's contact list might help, but it wasn't like he could just call people and ask if they hosted an entity too. Maybe the wolf could point him in the right direction when he got there.

John looked to the place where Mr. Sass would sit in the morning, and a fresh stab of guilt went through him. He pushed through the door into the book store, and Deron looked up from the cashier's desk and extended his arms dramatically.

"The prodigal son returns... again!" the big man boomed.

John grinned. "I'm not sure that analogy really fits this situation."

"Hey! I may not be known for my witty repartee, but my dashing good looks got me this job!" Deron laughed. He was in a rare good mood.

"Let me guess, the girls gave you extra hugs on their way to school?" John asked.

"And they painted pictures of me which they presented to me this morning! They have a real talent, you know!" he gushed.

John just smiled and headed for his desk.

He met Mel in the hall and was greeted with her usual barb. She glanced at her watch. "Did you forget how to cross the street again?" The smirk was firmly in place. Then she got a good look at his face. Looking at him like he was a messy child, she stepped closer. "Really, John, if you eat chocolate in the morning, try to get it in your mouth, not on your mouth."

Without a second thought, she reached up and wiped her thumb across his lower lip, smearing the remnants of Carol's lipstick more evenly over the soft skin.

"Lipstick?" she asked in a squeak, her thumb still resting on his lip as if frozen there.

"Lipstick," he confirmed around her thumb.

John pulled a tissue from his pocket and gently removed her digit from his mouth. He wiped her thumb clean, then wiped the evidence of this morning's kiss from his lips. Mel was still frozen in place, staring at his mouth.

"Satomi?" she asked.

"No," John replied.

Mel's dark complexion went a few shades redder, and her eyes flashed. "Can you not control your animal impulses?" she hissed.

He could see she was conflicted, so he couldn't help himself. He leaned in and let the wolf out just a little. His eyes sparkled with gold highlights, and he filled his chest with a deep rumble that carried up into his voice. "What fun would that be?" he said with a wolfish grin.

Mel's eyes went wide, she spun in place, and with her back stiffly upright, she fast-walked to her desk, a steady stream of Hindi coming from her.

John's grin faded as he thought about how she was no longer someone he could spend the rest of his life with. The rest of hers certainly, but it would be slow torture to watch her slip away from him. His mood plummeted.

He sat at his desk and checked his incoming mail. A few new inquiries, a thank-you note from the professor in Boston, an update request from the tablet seller, and no messages from the buyer. John checked the file and saw the tablet had been authenticated, and its appraisal was bang on what the buyer said he'd be willing to pay. That was an odd coincidence. John crafted a message to the buyer attesting to the item's authenticity according to their expert and provided his credentials. He also indicated the appraisal price. He asked what price the buyer would like to present to the seller.

Once that was out of the way, he wrote an update note to the seller, including most of what he'd said to the buyer except for the question of price. Instead, he informed her that the buyer would need to respond with their bid.

He made quick work of the new requests. Some were immediately declared impossible to meet due to previous attempts to procure them. He sent out some feelers for the others.

Soon it was ten, and the staff all headed downstairs for the daily review meeting. By habit, everyone took their places. John smiled at the sunny expression on Satomi's face, and she beamed back. Franklin looked grumpy and sleepy, so no doubt he'd been hitting the clubs the night before. Deron was waiting patiently for Kelly to arrive. He was always careful to treat her well, considering how much the store relied on her skills.

Mel was late as well. She did her best to ignore John when she descended the stairs though she was a little more fidgety than normal. He looked over at Satomi, who had also noticed, and they shared a brief smile.

Finally, Kelly arrived, and she had a troubled look on her brow.

Deron noticed his star employee wasn't happy. "Kelly, what's wrong?"

The woman looked over at John. "The hacker who was trying to crack John's e-mail is back, but now he's trying very hard to break into our network. Dude has some skills!" She sounded seriously impressed.

"Do you need to skip the meeting to deal with him?" Deron asked.

"I didn't say his skills topped mine. I'm tracking his attempts on my tablet. We're good. He keeps this up, though, and I'll have him," she smiled smugly.

With a nod, Deron began his review and then asked everyone to say their piece. When it was John's turn, he asked if he could go last. Finally, everyone had reported on their business, and it was John's turn once more.

"First off, I'd like to thank you all for coming to see me in the hospital. That meant a great deal to me. My life has gotten a little crazy recently, and I can't tell you how much it means to me to have such a great group of friends." He paused as they smiled at him, and he felt a knot in his chest. "That just makes it harder to say I'm going to need to take a leave of absence to take care of some personal matters." He said this facing Deron, who looked stunned. "I'll complete my pending orders, but I won't be taking on any new ones for the immediate future." He said that part to Kelly, who just nodded. "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like this, but you are in good hands because Mel is almost as good a researcher as me." He glanced over at her to see if she'd taken the bait but was caught off guard by her look of open dismay. He looked to Satomi, but she had the same expression.

The front door chime rang announcing a customer entering, and John turned in relief at the distraction. Except it was Detective Molina walking towards the group and his face looked as grim as it had when they'd last met.

"Detective? What are you doing here?" John asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing, but it looks like you're giving them your good news from their expressions. Did you use the hardcore take this job and shove it line, or was it more of a powder puff you'll always be in my heart approach?" he growled.

"I'm not quitting my job, and I'd never hurt my friends!" he snapped back.

"Not quitting your job?" the detective barked. He looked incredulously at John, then at the others in the room. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

"Didn't tell us what?" Deron asked.

The detective continued crashing the meeting. "Your boy here is worth billions. The stiff he found in the woods had a finders keepers clause in his will, and as first on the scene, John inherited the billionaire's entire estate."

John saw the shock in the eyes of most of his friends. Franklin had a seriously pissed look in his. The boy was jealous in the extreme, but there was little John could do for that right now.

He looked over at the detective, but the man was glaring at Kelly for some reason. "Did you come here just to poison my relationships with my friends?"

Molina gave him a frustrated look. "No, that's just a fringe benefit. I examined the security footage from the morgue for the night Michael Okorie's body went missing, and there's clear evidence the footage was tampered with by an expert but again, I don't know why. There are too many unanswered questions in this case. Who killed Wallace Laroche? The man was big and apparently something of a martial arts expert. Someone with the training of an S.A.S. commando could do it. Someone like Michael Okorie." Seeing the puzzled looks, he opened his notepad. "Mr. Sass."

That elicited a strong response from the group ranging from gasps to Franklin's, "I knew that guy was a badass killer!"

"Why would he kill Wallace Laroche?" John asked, puzzled by Molina's leap of logic.

"Because you asked him to so you'd be able to get the inheritance," the detective said.

"But... how could I have known about the will?" John asked, not tracking the detective's reasoning at all.

"You'd need someone with serious hacking skills and a history of electronic espionage. Handy skills for hacking into the law firm's servers to read wills looking for a target. Lucky for you, someone like that works in your office." He was looking directly at Kelly when he said that. Her face was getting very red.

"Wow! That's really creative thinking, Detective Molina. Terribly flawed and willfully cruel, but very creative. Please feel free to press charges if you have any evidence to back up those claims. Otherwise, speak with my lawyer the next time you feel like harassing my friends."

"I'll be in touch," Molina said with a final glare and left.

"Wow! That got ugly, quick," John said.

"Seriously, what the fuck, John?" Deron said.

"Which part?" he responded.

"Start at the beginning!"

"First thing first. Kelly and I have never conspired to steal inheritances. Can we all just accept that basic truth?" He looked around, and Franklin was the only one who didn't immediately acknowledge that, but the young man was nursing some serious jealousy.

"My discovery of Wallace Laroche was a fluke. If the wolf hadn't appeared when it did, I never would have fallen down that cliff and almost landed on the man. It wasn't until I was back in the hospital after Kate Darrows' attack that Laroche's lawyer found me and informed me of the will."

"Second, I had no idea that Mr. Sass' real name was Michael Okorie or that he was in the S.A.S. until Molina told me, and that was after the man died."

"The way Molina put together the little bits of information he collected makes for an interesting theory, but the truth, while unsatisfying for the detective, is far more mundane and boring. Aside from Kate Darrows killing Mr. Sass, there's been no murder. There was no conspiracy."

"Are you really that loaded?" Franklin said.

"According to the lawyers, yes. No one's said a definitive number yet, but I've never had more than a couple thousand in my bank account before. The number feels unreal to me when it's in the billions."

"If it's so unreal, throw a few billion my way. I'll show you how to spend it!" Franklin said excitedly. "I'd have bitches all over me!"

"Franklin, you'd have women all over you if you'd just treat them with respect and thoughtfulness. You're a handsome guy, yet you open your mouth and drive them away with phrases like I'd have bitches all over me."

"Says the man with billions and bitches all over him," Franklin said, pointing at Satomi and Melanie.

"Apologize to them, now!" John growled, and everyone froze.

The menace pouring off John was tangible. Franklin looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He gulped and whispered an apology.

"We can't hear you," rumbled from John's chest.

"I'm sorry for calling you bitches," Franklin gasped out, and John pinned him with his eyes which were beginning to show gold highlights. "I'm sorry! You are wonderful ladies!" the young man yelped, truly frightened.

John closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath as he reined his aggression in. When he opened them again, he looked sadly at Deron. "Too much has happened to me in too short a time. I need some time off to get my shit together. I'm not sure how much time I'll need, so I understand if you need to fill my position."

John looked at the small group of people he'd spent so much time with and eventually called his friends. "Working here has been an awesome experience. I hope I'm able to return a more whole and collected person." He felt tears coming, so he tipped his head down to stare at the floor as he stepped back into his customary position.

The room was quiet, then he saw feet in front of him, joined by others. He looked up and saw Deron, Mel, Satomi, and Kelly gathered in front of him. Franklin hung back, looking awkward. The rest stepped forward and gave John a group hug. His tears came then, and he couldn't stop them. He saw Franklin's eyes tearing, so he gestured for the man to join. Soon they were all collected into a firm and comforting embrace. John kept an eye on Franklin to ensure the man wasn't abusing his closeness to the ladies.

They pulled back, and each went their own way. Before Deron left, John asked if he could speak with him privately. They went to his office and shut the door.

"There was something I wanted to let you know about the tablet sale. I haven't mentioned anything to the police as I'm not sure it means anything, but when Kate Darrows came in, she asked if we handled other media other than books such as scrolls and tablets. It's probably nothing, but the way she asked the question made warning bells go off in my head for some reason. Felt like too much of a coincidence. I know I don't have access to the confidential identities of the accounts, but if the buyer for the tablet was actually Kate Darrows, that might explain why she wanted to get into our stock room. There hasn't been any further response from the buyer since before her visit, and there was almost daily correspondence before then. Again, it could be a coincidence, but my gut tells me it's not. I just wanted you to know. I sent the buyer the first bidding request message. If there isn't a response tomorrow, my suspicions may be confirmed," John said.

Deron nodded with resignation. He wasn't about to breach client confidentiality on suspicion, but he appreciated John's letting him know.

"Listen, I'm going to head over to Seattle tomorrow to do some estate stuff, whatever that is. The lawyer there wants me to sign some things. I'll have my cellphone with me in case you need me. I'll probably have the rest of my orders closed by the end-of-day today, so it's just the tablet that needs to be dealt with."

Deron leaned back and looked at the man he'd worked with for the past four years. "You do what you need to do, and you come back, okay? I'll hold off on hiring until we need to."

"Thanks, Deron."

John returned to his desk. He looked at his e-mail again and saw a few replies to the recent requests he'd sent out. It looked like he'd be able to finish up earlier than he expected. He processed the orders and passed along his thanks.

Then he wrote a short note for his contacts, letting them know he'd be taking a hiatus for an undetermined time. He thanked them for their help and said he looked forward to working with them in the future.

Before he shut down, he checked once more for a response to the tablet order. Nothing. His bad feeling hadn't gone away. He felt sorry for the seller as he'd convinced her to spend money she didn't have. He suddenly recalled he was sitting on billions. He brought up the file and saw the amounts she'd paid so far. He added credit to her account to cover her current expenses. He also added additional funds into the shop's account with a note to Deron indicating it would cover the courier fees to return the tablet to her should the deal fall through. He used his new bank card to pay for all this. Then he added a note for the seller informing her she'd been reimbursed so she wouldn't be out of pocket while they waited for the seller. She'd see all this when she next logged in. She could request the funds with an online transaction back into her bank account from the site.

That little bit of good karma taken care of, he decided to go speak with Kelly to see if the hacker was still after him. He found her peering at two separate screens, both of which were being updated at an alarming rate, but he could make no sense of either. Kelly glanced at him, then back to the screens. She occasionally made minor entries into a keyboard, but he still couldn't tell what difference it made.

"You really attracted someone's attention," Kelly murmured as she kept her eyes on the screens.

"How do you know it's about me?" he asked.

"Because while he's distracting me with this multi-protocol attack, he's back to attempting to tap into your e-mail account," she gestured over her shoulder with a thumb. John looked at a third monitor, and characters were scrolling over that one as well.

"What the hell is he trying to find in my e-mail?" John asked.

"Not sure, but my friends at the FBI are interested in him. That's them on the left screen tracking his location and logging his transmissions. We think he's aboard a private jet based on the satellite connections he's making. We might have our man if we can correlate it to a flight plan."

"That doesn't sound like a pimply-faced hacker in his mom's basement," John remarked.

"That's why the FBI is so interested. They've been trying to find this guy for years, and I brought them an active connection and the fact that he wasn't using the usual protocols for maintaining his communications. This guy has some serious back door access to telecom satellites! That means he has either infiltrated the firms that built the satellite systems or has friends on the inside. We can track these hidden messages now, so their network is busted! The FBI would never have found him without my help. I'm a white hat hacker and have been for years!" she said defiantly.

John understood that last part was in reference to Molina's accusation from earlier in the day. "I never doubted it," was his reply. "I just wanted to say goodbye. I'm heading out now."

Kelly stood up and crushed him in a fierce hug. "You come back to us if you can, okay? Satomi and Mel are not going to take you leaving well."

After his initial shock, John hugged her back. "I'll do my best. They're both amazing women. They will find far better mates than I could ever be. They deserve better."

Kelly held him out at arm's length. "And there's the reason they pine for you. Now get out of here before I join their team!" she grinned.

John smiled in return and went back downstairs. He found Mel in her office, and it looked like she'd been crying. "Mel?"

She started in surprise at his calling out to her. Then she turned in anger. "Have you not learned how to knock in all these years?"

"Your door was open," he said.

"Does that matter? A door sill is equally useful for knocking! How simple-minded can you be?" she blustered.

"You're right. I'm a total dough head. I'm sorry. I'll just leave." John thought it might be easier for her if they parted this way, so he headed down the hall.

"WAIT!"

John just had time to turn before she crashed into his chest. She clung to him tightly and buried her face in his neck to avoid looking into his eyes.

"Don't go," she whispered against his skin.

Shivers ran up and down John's spine. He'd been dreaming of this since they'd met, yet now he saw he could never have it. The cruelty of fate was almost overwhelming. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.

"If staying could help me straighten out my head, you know I would. But I'm no good to anyone in this state. I have to go," he whispered back to the woman in his arms.

"It's not fair, John. Just when you stop acting like such a jerk, you leave," she mumbled into his chest.

He grinned, seeing how she saw their friendship had developed and changed. If it was easier for her to think that way, he wouldn't argue.

"Men, hmmph!" he joked, using her favorite phrase.

Mel suddenly looked up in his eyes desperately. "Kiss me!"

He pulled back as far as her clinging arms allowed. "What?"

"I will never forgive myself if I don't kiss you at least once before you leave," she insisted, staring deep into his eyes.

John was torn. He wanted to kiss her so badly and had wanted to for years. But now, knowing he couldn't have her, it felt like unspeakable cruelty to--

His eyes flared gold, and he captured her lips between his. They were softer and plumper than he expected. He felt them part, and her tongue tentatively slipped in to meet his more aggressive thrust. He gently sucked her tongue into his mouth and caressed it with his. Mel gasped and crushed her soft frame against his hard muscles. It was the purest bliss! He slid his right hand through her hair as his left hand slid down her back to rest at the base of her spine. The heat between them grew exponentially, and their physical need was going out of control.

With everything he had, John slowly pulled back from the kiss, preventing it from becoming far more physical than it should. His muscles shook in protest as his passions, led by the wolf, struggled to continue while his heart, led by John, pulled back from the edge to spare them both the pain. As their lips parted, Mel opened her eyes, and he saw the conflict in them had just grown worse. Her eyes widened alarmingly.

CRACK!

Her open palm caught him across his right cheek and dazed him. She ran back into her office and slammed the door. John stood there staring at the barrier. He heard sobs on the other side, but there was nothing he could do to ease that pain, so he went down to the main floor. Deron took one look at the bright red hand print on his cheek and the defeated look on his face and looked away sadly.

Satomi was nowhere in sight, but Franklin walked up to him and examined his cheek. "You'll want to put ice on that, or it might swell up. I have some expertise with that kind of injury."

John smiled down at the young man, then gently tapped Franklin's heart. "But only when the pain comes from here can you call yourself a master."

Franklin grinned and bowed. Seconds later, the message sunk in, and his expression turned thoughtful. It looked like he might have learned something. John hoped so.

He walked out the door and didn't look back.

Chapter 13

John didn't fly very often. On a whim, when he was finishing university, he'd gotten himself a passport, thinking he'd set off to Europe to see the world's great libraries. Instead, he'd taken the job in Portland immediately after he graduated, so that was the last time he'd used it for ID. It had been an ordeal getting the damn thing due to his name and people's resistance to believing it was real.

The flight to Seattle was only an hour, but as John didn't drive and wasn't fond of the bus, he opted to splurge and fly. As he sat in the waiting area, he went over the conversation he'd had with Anna the previous night. He told her he had to find out more about what he had become, and the starting point for that was in Seattle. He didn't know where that search would take him, but he promised to touch base with her at night a few times a week and visit as often as possible. She said that she understood, but he could see the pain in her eyes. John worried that one of the aspects of hosting the wolf would mean seeing that look in the eyes of those he cared for again and again. He was beginning to understand the price Mr. Laroche described to his lawyer.

They announced boarding for his flight, and he got in the queue, which shuffled along through the checking of boarding passes and down the tunnel to the plane's door.

Then his muscles locked up.

He looked in the doorway of the small plane, and he couldn't get his legs to move. John felt the wolf's panic at the thought of being in the small enclosed space of bad smells, terrible noise, and the reek of fear. John had no problems stepping away from the door, making room for the grumpy passengers behind him and leaning back against the tunnel wall. His breath was coming in gulps, and his eyes widened. John struggled with the wolf, trying to get it to calm down. The flight attendant stepped off of the plane and walked next to him.

"Sir, are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes, sorry. The plane is smaller than expected," John replied, regaining control.

"Is this your first time on a plane?" she asked sympathetically.

"No, I flew from Boston to Portland four years ago, but that plane was much larger. I don't recall it being this loud either. I have very sensitive hearing," he said with an apologetic smile.

The woman looked up the tunnel and then pulled something out of her pocket. John saw they were foam ear plugs. She handed them to him, held a finger to her lips, and winked.

John smiled gratefully and stuffed the plugs into his ears. The effect was immediate. Sounds softened, and the wolf's panic dropped to mere anxiety. John envisioned the wolf sitting quietly and being rewarded with a run. The beast seemed to get the idea as his muscles loosened up.

"Thank you very much," John said to the woman. She smiled and gestured for him to board. He'd splurged and paid for the more expensive first-row seat. There was no first class on this flight, but the first row somehow warranted a premium price. As it meant he'd get off the small plane first, he now saw the value.

The flight itself was uneventful, and soon he was sitting in a cab on his way to the law firm. He'd never been to Seattle, so he quite enjoyed the tour and the cabbie, Jerry, was more than pleased to offer his tales. They drove into the city's heart to a tall, modern-looking building that appeared to be constructed entirely of glass. John gave Jerry an extra tip for the tour and left the man grinning at his luck for catching such a generous passenger. John stopped at the concierge and was directed to the bank of elevators to take to the top floor. He stepped off of the elevator into a bright and airy reception area. The receptionist took his name and immediately left her desk to escort him through the beautifully appointed halls to the door of a corner office. She quickly rapped on the door and opened it to allow John to enter. Daniel Evans sat behind a beautiful antique desk. He rose and walked around it to shake John's hand.

"John! Delighted to see you up and on your feet again." He paused as he realized how brief the time had been. "Wait, it's only been a week since we met. Should you be out of your hospital bed? You had broken bones!"

"I heal very quickly, it seems," John shrugged.

"Wallace broke his leg skiing one winter, and it took eight weeks for him to heal," Daniel said.

"Yeah, I discovered my healing quirk before I was introduced to the wolf," John explained.

"That is tremendously fortuitous! Please, have a seat. I have many things we need to go through so let's begin," he pointed to a plush leather chair in front of his desk.

Once they were both seated, Daniel pulled out some sheets of paper. "We need to go over some of the assets you now own and discuss what each represents in terms of the estate and how you might like to deal with them. The first document is a listing of a dozen or so addresses. These are homes in different countries which the estate is maintaining. There are ongoing expenses from these like property taxes, utilities, but mostly the salaries of the staff who maintained the homes." Daniel handed the paper to John, and he quickly scanned the addresses and recognized country names, if not the cities or towns they were located in. Apparently, Wallace wasn't a fan of large cities. London, Paris, New York, and Berlin were all missing from the paper though there were properties in the countries of these cities. With the wolf, he supposed that made sense.

"I own a chalet in France?" John said quietly, looking at Daniel. The man smiled and nodded.

"Perhaps you might like to visit the properties before deciding if you want to sell them off," the lawyer suggested. John nodded and handed the paper back.

They went through other documents relating to companies Wallace had been overseeing as hobbies in his retirement, charities he headed up, eco-conservationism projects he supported, and each required John to indicate his preference to continue investing or not. Daniel wove into this discussion related personal questions about his background, education, and hobbies. Soon they were done with the documents, and Daniel packed them away with a relieved look on his face.

"This was a personal assessment meeting, wasn't it?" John said.

Daniel smiled and nodded. "I'm glad to see you are as perceptive as I suspected you'd be. Yes, we needed to determine how our most important client handled the transition you recently underwent. There is a great deal invested in our business relationship, and the new host the symbiote chose could seriously jeopardize that. Wallace set up contingency plans a long time ago for the firm, but truthfully, they were all a shot in the dark as we had no idea if the next host the entity chose would be compatible with what Wallace built.

"Did I pass?" John asked.

"With flying colors, rest assured!" Daniel smiled then his expression turned more earnest. "Did you have a chance to think about what I said about coming to terms with the entity?"

"Actually, the day you came to visit me, the wolf and I came to an understanding, and I can honestly say that we've bonded quite well. I promised him we'd go running while we're here in Seattle. I understand there is a lot of secluded and public wooded parkland nearby. While I'm still nervous about what will happen, I think it's time to let him run free for a bit." John felt the wolf get a little restless as he envisioned removing the ring in the forest. It was definitely eager.

"Yes, there are extensive tracts of forest nearby. The further out you go, the more secluded it gets," Daniel said.

"One final item of business, then I'll let you go. I need to ask you how your Portland legal representation is working out."

"Carol? She's been really helpful. I haven't asked too much of her so far, but I'm going to ask her to run interference with Detective Molina. The man has gotten it into his head that a woman I work with conspired with me to hack into your network and read Mr. Laroche's will...after which I got my friend Michael Okorie, who turned out to be an ex-S.A.S. commando, to kill Mr. Laroche so I could be first on scene and inherit the estate. I can't explain to Molina that Mr. Laroche committed suicide and that it was the fact that he gave me a magic ring that proved to you I was the legitimate heir. That sounds nuts even to me, and I'm living the lunacy. Molina is a good detective and a good man, but he doesn't accept unexplainable circumstances. He needs a mundane answer to the weird gaps in this story."

Daniel frowned. "Oh my. That sounds like trouble. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. We will coordinate with Ms. Lozinski to provide what information we can safely share with the detective. What he's suggesting about our being hacked is technically impossible, which is all I can say without disclosing security details."

"Anything you can do to safely clear up the issues for Molina and take the pressure off my friends would be greatly appreciated," John said.

"Not to worry, we're on it," the senior partner said.

They shook hands, and when the office door opened, the receptionist was there to escort him back to the elevators. John had to admit that it made him feel a little special but a little silly to have this much attention.

Back on the street, he saw Jerry leaning back against his car at the curb with a big smile which he couldn't help but return. The man took him to the address of his condo, and on the way, John made arrangements to be picked up the following morning at ten to be driven to a park John would research tonight and get a pick-up from that location the next morning to go home. John added the cabbie's number to his phone. The man had a permanent smile on his face as he drove away.

John walked into the airy lobby and made his way to the security desk. He asked for the concierge, and a brief time later, a short, slim man with a pencil-thin mustache approached him.

"I'm Mr. Stills. How may I help you, sir?" he asked.

"Hi, my name is John Doe. My lawyer, Mr. Evans, informed me that I should speak with you about a condo I've inherited."

"Yes, sir. May I see some identification?"

John handed over his passport. The man scanned the photo page, likely memorizing all of the information, and glanced at John to confirm the photo. Then he handed it back. "Very good, sir. Please follow me."

He led John to his office, where he collected a small key fob. He handed the fob to John. "This will get you access to any of the building's secure areas, including the garage, elevators, roof terrace, and of course, your unit. You merely have to have it on your person, and the building's sensors will detect it and give you access. It also works as a panic alarm. If you twist it ninety degrees and press down on the center for three seconds, building security will be alerted, and the police will be called. All of the features of the building can be found on the interactive program on channel five on your TV. Would you like me to take you to your penthouse unit?"

"No, I think I can take it from here," John replied.

"Very good, sir. Just dial pound-one-hundred on your house phone if there is anything you need," the small man advised.

"Thanks."

John walked over to the elevator bank and the door opened before he could press a button. He stepped in and pushed the PH button. When the elevator arrived, he was in a room facing double doors. There was only one set of doors, so he suddenly realized that the condo encompassed the entire floor!

He walked forward, and as he gripped the handle, he heard the lock click open. Stepping into the condo's foyer for the first time, he was awestruck by the grandeur of the living room. Comfortable-looking couches and chairs made of rich leathers and dark wood circled a large coffee table made from a single carved and polished piece of fine-grained wood. But what drew his attention were the floor-to-ceiling windows commanding a view of the water and the islands in the distance. Breathtaking! He saw the entrance to what looked like the kitchen on the far side of the room, and looking in the other direction, he saw a hallway leading to... well, he'd have to go see where that led.

Crossing the living room, he dropped his backpack and jacket on the couch, ran his fingertips along its back, and found the leather to be as soft as it looked. The moment he stepped into the wide hallway, he picked up an odd sound. Halfway between a high-pitched whine and a hiccup, the sound was whisper quiet, but his keen ears detected the out-of-place sound over the soothing background whisper of the air conditioning. Considering the security measures in place, there shouldn't have been anyone else in the condo. John stepped forward quietly and listened. He passed a large bathroom, then what looked like an office (he'd have to return to explore that room), and three guest bedrooms before he found double doors leading to the room where the noise was coming from. He put his ear to the door, and the sound was much louder. Now that he was closer, he could make out that it sounded like... crying? He quietly opened one of the doors and stepped inside. Dominating the room was a king-sized four-poster bed. The posts were ornately carved to look like vine-covered tree trunks. It was a truly beautiful piece of furniture, but the naked woman with platinum blonde hair crying in its middle captured John's attention. She was curled up in a fetal position with her back to the door, but he could tell she was quite naked. What the hell? Daniel made NO mention that Wallace was seeing anyone, but then, do you tell your lawyer stuff like that? Probably not.

Feeling a little creepy, John looked away and cleared his throat loud enough for her to hear.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" she screamed as she flipped herself over the far side of the bed. Her clothes were in a pile closer to John's side, so he saw an immediate issue.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here! Get out! Get out!" she screamed.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't expecting anyone to be here," John sputtered.

The woman suddenly stood up on the other side of the bed and stepped quickly across the room towards him. John couldn't help but watch as she moved with a kind of hypnotic grace. She was very tall and athletically built except for her generous breasts, which might have been really good implants as they didn't match her lean, toned--

SLAP!

John reeled back from the blow and slammed into the doorway. His head spun from the power of the hit, and the wolf finally took notice. The second strike was coming in, and John wasn't prepared, so it struck the other side of his face knocking him into the hall and down onto his knees. Instead of slamming the door closed in his face, she continued to stalk forward, preparing another blow.

The wolf had definitely had enough and took over as John was too stunned from the blows he'd taken. Eyes flashing gold, he leaped forward and slammed his shoulder into her midsection, throwing them both back into the bedroom. She slammed her fists down on his back, and he rolled away. She followed up with punches and kicks in quick succession, and somehow the wolf was able to dodge most of them and deflect the others. John had recovered from the slaps but let the wolf take the wheel as there was no way he'd be able to defend himself against her fierce attack. He noticed she was growling in frustration from not being able to land another solid hit. She bared her white teeth at him. The wolf matched her growl with his own when her attack turned deadly.

Her eyes flashed silver, and her fingers suddenly became claws. They raked across his chest as he leaped back, shredding his shirt and leaving him with four parallel scratches. The pain pushed the wolf over the edge, but the ring prevented him from responding in kind. His moves had been largely defensive, but now the wolf was in full rage. He roared and flashed forward with a rain of lightning-fast strikes that caught the woman off guard. Stunned, she glanced her head off one of the bedposts and tumbled to the floor. She hit the carpeted floor face first, and he was immediately on her, right hand around her throat, about to crush her windpipe.

John regained control before the wolf could deliver the coup de grace, and they struggled as they pinned the woman to the floor beneath John's body. He felt her tensing her muscles to throw him off, and John moved his mouth right down beside her ear and let the wolf's growl sink into her skin.

"Don't move," he rumbled, menace dripping from his words. She gasped and froze in place.

"Wallace?" she whispered.

"No, Wallace died," he responded gently.

"But... you have his wolf?" she asked, trembling.

The shock of her acknowledging the beast made John realize he was lying on top of the naked woman, pinning her to the floor. He also noticed that his body responded to her grinding her ass against his groin. Her breathing was becoming louder, and the wolf scented her excitement. It was definitely interested, but John was not! He rolled himself off of her and sat with his back to the wall looking at her, wide-eyed with shock.

She remained where she was and looked at him with a hurt and confused expression.

"Lady, who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my condo?" John growled between his clenched teeth.

"I am Sasha," she said, continuing to look at him with hurt in her eyes.

John could feel rising anger, then realized it mostly came from the wolf. He turned the conversation internally with an image of Sasha and felt the wolf's distaste/disgust/dislike... it was hard to distinguish the actual emotion. John got the impression that the wolf knew Sasha and did not care for her. He returned his attention back to Sasha. "You haven't answered my question."

"Why did you not take me?" she asked.

"What?" John was jolted off topic again.

"You won. You wanted me. I could feel your hardness. Why did you not take me?" She was almost defiant.

"That's... that would be rape! I'm not a rapist!" John tried to make sense of what she was saying, but his mind kept shying away.

"When male wolf defeats female wolf in fight, he takes female! It is right, is not rape!" she explained as she would to a child.

"Wait..." John recalled the flash of silver in her eyes. "You're hosting an entity too?"

"What this means, hosting entity?" she asked, confused.

"You have a wolf in you?" he asked.

"Yes, of course! Idiot!" she said and looked at him like he'd gone simple in the head.

John was beginning to see why the wolf disliked Sasha. She was rude and pushy even if she was lying naked on the floor in front of him, her long smooth legs parted and all sexy and willing...

Sasha sniffed and smiled as she raised her ass a few inches off the floor. God, she was so freaking sexy! John wrenched his thoughts back under control. Everything was moving WAY too fast! Seconds ago, they were fighting to the death, and now she wanted to have sex!?!? He stood up and looked down at the naked woman.

"Get dressed and come out to the living room," he commanded. His voice was gravelly with his need, but he would not be controlled by his hormones. She scuttled across the floor to her clothes and started to put them on hurriedly, all the time glancing at him with worried and confused looks. He turned and walked briskly out to the living room, stopping briefly in the bathroom to get a wet face cloth to wipe the blood from his chest. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he felt the wolf's disapproval. That surprised him. He wondered what the wolf thought he'd done wrong. Images of Sasha's dead body at his feet quickly followed by her sweating, heaving naked body under his flashed by like a snuff porno film in his mind. The wolf wanted him to either kill her or fuck her. He was stunned. The image of her confused face popped into his mind again, and the wolf once more directed a feeling of disapproval at him. John was getting it. The wolf thought he was being cruel to the woman or, more likely, her wolf. The feeling of disapproval immediately disappeared. He wasn't about to kill her! The wolf got excited once more at the thought of having sex, but John reined that in as well. He needed some time. He was just going to have to be cruel for a little while longer.

He walked out into the living room, where Sasha sat on the couch with his backpack contents dumped out next to her. She cast him a guilty look, but there were still signs of fear and defiance in her eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he roared.

She jumped off the couch and stood trembling.

John once more got the images of her dead or having sex flash through his mind. The wolf was insistent, almost to the point of attempting to take control. It was trying to teach him something about dealing with his kind that John's civilized mind was having trouble coping with.

Sasha's wolf didn't wait any longer. She attacked, claws outstretched. John's wolf pushed him aside and grappled with the larger woman. She had at least four inches on him in height and was in peak physical condition while he'd just got out of the hospital. In an even fight, John would be dead. But John's wolf was older and far more willing to fight dirty to quickly subdue his opponent with minimal damage. It conceded to John's will not to kill her, but that's where the human sentiment ended. The wolf slammed his forehead into the bridge of Sasha's nose and followed up with a lightning-fast punch to her jaw. She hit the floor, and he was on her in an instant. Once more, his right hand was around her throat, and his mouth was down by her ear, growling. She made a whining sound before they mutually yanked down their pants to their knees and proceeded to mate. There was nothing brutal or violent about it. It was just sex. Almost a spectator, John was stunned but couldn't fault the wolf for dealing with a situation he could not. Besides, he was being flooded with endorphins from the energetic sex, and pleasure was getting in the way of thinking. He felt the wolf's amusement at his inability to process. In his fleeting moment of lucidity, he flashed the wolf an image of a very pregnant Sasha, but the wolf just slapped him down with an assurance that it couldn't happen.

Sasha cried out and crushed back against John as her body went through quakes of pleasure. This was too much for John, and he crested as well.

Once they were done, they pulled away from each other, got dressed, and sat on the floor, leaning back against the furniture as they watched each other warily and caught their breath.

"You know nothing of dealing with wolf," Sasha said as she eyed him critically.

"It's new to me, but my wolf is a good teacher. Thankfully, a patient teacher," John said and felt the wolf's satisfaction. He turned his attention back to the woman. "Again, who are you, and why are you in my condo?"

"My name is Sasha Leonov. I live on tenth floor. I teach martial arts. I trained Wallace. I taught your wolf moves it used. Except for head butt." Sasha squeezed the bridge of her nose, and John heard the crack of the broken nose resetting. John snagged a t-shirt she had dumped from his backpack onto the couch and threw it to her to stanch the blood trickling from her nose.

"Thanks. I was sometimes Wallace's lover. He gave me access to condo. I miss him," she said with a frown. She looked up at him again. "I suppose I should thank you."

John was confused, and it must have shown on his face.

She rolled her eyes. "Not for sex. You are stupid. For keeping wolf from killing me. It does not like my wolf or me."

"Other than your rude, abrasive personality, is there any reason my wolf would have for disliking you?" John growled.

"Ask wolf," she shrugged noncommittally, but John saw the corner of her mouth twitch with a suppressed grin. She knew he couldn't communicate at that level.

"Okay, I think it's time for you to leave now," he said, nodding toward the door.

A look of panic flashed across her face. "No! Please! I'm sorry. I do not want to be alone!"

"Then perhaps you should work on your people skills. Don't you have anyone else you could please with your presence?" John asked, exasperated.

Sasha's blue eyes welled up with tears, and she looked at him from under her bangs. "I had Wallace."

John immediately felt bad for being tough with her, but the wolf once more disapproved, and he paid attention to the wolf this time. He took a critical look at Sasha. Sure enough, with the wolf's assistance, he picked up on her body language that she was trying to work him.

"Rude and emotionally manipulative. Excellent. Leave. Now," he said firmly.

This time she really did look shaken. They got to their feet, and he followed her to the door. She paused on the other side and looked back uncertainly.

"I'm not cutting you loose. I want to get to know you, but we will start from scratch. You will learn to treat me with respect, and you are going to work to earn my trust. I want a couple of days to get settled in. Then I will contact you. I'm revoking your access to the condo until you've earned that trust. Is this understood?" he asked.

Sasha nodded as she looked at him hopefully. Those blue eyes were her killer feature, and unfortunately, she knew it.

He sighed, and she wiggled her ass at him as she got in the elevator. As the door closed, she flashed a dazzling smile at him, and he couldn't stop himself from returning the smile.

"God! She's a handful. And maybe just a little crazy," he said aloud and felt the wolf respond with an internal growl.

He walked back into his unit and found a phone. He called Mr. Stills and got instructions on revoking access to the condo. He explained that he found Ms. Leonov in the unit, but it was fine, they'd spoken, and she'd left.

John had to hunt for the entertainment room, which had a large projection screen and a rather daunting remote. He managed to turn it on, switched it to TV, and set it to the building's security channel. He punched in the code Mr. Stills gave him, and he saw the settings for his unit. There was only one entry on the access screen, one-thousand-and-one, which must be Sasha. He highlighted the record and deleted it. The screen refreshed, and it was done.

Now that he felt a little more secure, he explored his new home. This room was a movie lover's wet dream. Big screen, state-of-the-art projection system, surround sound, satellite, and some kind of digital media server; the works. He wasn't familiar with these kinds of toys, but he was sure Wallace had paid serious money to get the best experience out of them. Far more impressive than his little 21-inch department store TV.

There were big overstuffed leather chairs for seating but only two of them. This room was more for Wallace and his wife or a single guest.

The furniture in the living room was set up to entertain multiple people. He wondered how many social events the man threw in his home. He owned companies, so maybe he invited the executives over at Christmas? He snorted to himself.

The kitchen was enormous with all the toys. John wasn't much of a cook, but he might develop the interest considering the time he had ahead of him. The thought was a little unsettling.

He made his way to the office and looked around. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. He sat in the comfortable leather chair and ran his hands over the surface of the solid wood desk. It felt smooth and heavy and expensive, and he started to feel lost. He was surrounded by luxury, but it all felt empty as he had no real connection to any of it. It wasn't his... yet. He hadn't earned any of it. Wallace may have felt leaving all of this for the next host was some kind of compensation, but to John, it just felt like stepping into another man's life. He wished he could speak with him.

Instead, he went back out into the living room and collected the stuff Sasha had dumped out of his backpack. He carried it back to the master bedroom and put it on the dresser. If this place was going to be his home for the next little while, he had some chores to do. He pulled the sheets from the bed and looked for the washing machine and the linen closet.

He spent the afternoon doing simple domestic things, and gradually he learned where things were and what things he wanted to change to make them more comfortable for him. He'd thought about just selling the place, but he found himself getting more and more relaxed in the space after just a few hours. He thought it might have had something to do with the condo's view of the surrounding forested lands. The wolf seemed to really appreciate it. He wondered how much his comfort level was bleeding over from the wolf's familiarity with it.

He realized one critical thing the home needed.

Picking up the phone, he dialed a number.

Chapter 14

"Anna! Welcome to Seattle!"

The woman standing in his doorway had agreed to drop everything and fly to Seattle that very day. Granted, he had to resort to begging. She had vacation days available and got someone to cover her shifts at work. While she made those arrangements, he'd booked a ticket for her, and she caught the afternoon flight. He'd also called his favorite cabbie to pick her up and bring her to the condo.

"How could I refuse such a heartfelt request? Oh, John! This is lovely!" Anna gasped as she walked into the living room and saw the panorama of the city lights spread out before her. John took her on a tour of the home, and she agreed with each revision he wanted to make and suggested a few he immediately connected with.

He offered her the choice of any of the guest rooms. Each had its own private and complete bathroom, but the one in the middle had a slightly more feminine feel, so she chose that one. Assured that he had changed and washed the sheets that afternoon, she dropped her bags on the bed.

John's stomach took that moment to remind them that it was past dinner time. They shared a chuckle and decided to go out for dinner. Anna insisted on cooking a meal for him in that wonderful kitchen when he returned from taking the wolf for a run.

As they rode the elevator to the lobby with her arm through his, he caught her reflection in the elevator's mirrored door. She had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. He was so happy he could make her smile like that. The descending elevator slowed and stopped at ten. The wolf immediately became alert, and John's focus snapped to the door as well. It opened, and Sasha was standing there wearing a shimmering and daring party dress and silver stiletto heels, clutching a tiny silver purse. She took one look at Anna's possessive hand on John's arm, and her eyes flashed silver. John's neck hair stood on end, and a deep growl rumbled from his chest. Anna looked between the woman and John, then addressed the woman.

"I'm his mother."

As simple as that, Sasha's eyes cleared, and she became immediately submissive, slinking into the far side of the elevator. Her relief was obvious.

"How did..." John began, his hackles relaxing as well.

"Oh please, dear. That's basic as nature. It's time you started paying attention to how people interact," Anna chided him.

Sasha snorted.

He turned to the hot blonde standing opposite them. "You will treat this woman with utmost respect and civility," John warned her.

Sasha peered at him from under her bangs, then looked at Anna. She nodded to the woman, who returned the gesture.

"Would you like to go dancing? It will be fun!" Sasha asked.

"No, thank you. We're just going to get dinner. Have a good time!" John said.

"I intend to. Some lucky man is going to have the best night of his life!" Sasha said over her shoulder as the door opened in the lobby. Anna and John followed her out, and after they parted ways, Anna looked at John.

He spoke with the concierge to get directions to a nice restaurant nearby before rejoining Anna, and they headed out.

"Did you have sex with that girl?" she asked once they were alone on the street.

John blushed. "Moooom!"

Anna laughed. "Seriously, did you?"

"Yes, but not like you think. It wasn't play sex but more like ... wolf-to-wolf dominance sex," he said.

"I thought I caught a flash in her eyes. I wondered if she was like you," Anna said. His wolf didn't like the comparison.

"She is, but it's like... it's like her wolf is the dominant partner in their relationship and her human side isn't... complete or completely civilized. She can be dangerous, so please be careful around her. I don't know enough about her yet. The wolf has been trying to teach me how to deal with her. It was either death or... dominance sex. The wolf would have preferred killing her. He doesn't care for her at all," John explained.

"Then maybe your wolf has more sense than you. The girl is crazy," Anna said, shocking John and greatly amusing the wolf.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence! She's the only other one like me that I'm aware of, so I need her to help me learn more about it. Or to introduce me to others if she knows any. I don't think I can afford to burn any bridges right now."

They walked down the street, and John realized he'd missed a turn in the concierge's instructions. They stopped and looked back in the direction they'd come.

"Did we miss the restaurant?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, I missed a--"

John stopped talking as he watched two street kids walking towards them about a block away. They weren't talking. They were staring at Anna as they got closer. Something... something felt familiar. John felt the darkness in the back of his mind begin to stir. The two kids started to move faster until they were running full out.

Then they became shadows and disappeared.

John felt the darkness within him surge up and outwards to envelop Anna. She gave a brief cry as the street lights around her suddenly vanished. She was standing in complete darkness, and panic gripped her throat. The blackness chilled her to the bone, and she was about to call out to John when she became aware of his presence next to her. She felt his finger touching her lips, urging her to be quiet. She pulled back from his touch as it was so cold, but she remained silent.

From just inside the envelope of darkness, John watched the shadows in the alley and began to recognize the ripple of the hunters moving ever closer. They cast from side to side, looking for their prey which had been so tantalizingly close just seconds before. The feeling of familiarity in John was growing. The two shadows slipped right up to the edge of the alley next to where John was standing between them and Anna. They seemed to be confused by the darkness before them.

The shadows stabbed forward, and John felt the cold digging deeply into his body. He felt their surprise and excitement as they began to feed on his energy. He tried to pull away, but their hooks were in too deep. His darkness ran along the surface of these barbs, and recognition crystalized. The shadows were once part of his darkness, just splinters but pieces that it wanted back. It sunk its own hooks into the shadows and consumed them far more rapidly, pulling their energy back into him. There was a ripping sensation as the last of the darkness was torn from the two kids, and John felt a deep satisfaction course through his dark entity. John willed it to return within himself once more, and it obediently took its place deep in the recesses of his mind.

Anna could suddenly see again as the blackness quickly disappeared back within John. He fell to his knees and shook violently from the deep chill he still felt from the shadow's feeding. Anna lunged forward and caught his shoulders as he started toppling forward on his face. She felt his trembling and saw the bodies of the two street kids just in front of John.

"What happened to you? Are they dead?" Once she was sure John wouldn't collapse, she bent down and felt for a pulse on each of them.

John saw her relax. She looked at him. "Strong pulses."

She touched his face and gasped. "You're freezing! We have to get you warm! Can you stand?" She put her arm around his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. They shuffled back along the road until they reached the corner. Down the cross street, there was the restaurant they'd searched for. They staggered along until they made it inside the front door. The hostess looked up and gasped.

"D-d-d-do y-y-y-ou h-have a f-f-f-firep-p-place?" John chattered. The young woman and Anna dragged him into the bar and sat him directly in front of a roaring fire. A waitress came over, and Anna ordered tea for both of them. A minute later, she was holding John's cup steady in his hands so he could take sips without splashing the hot sugary liquid over his face. The waitress returned, and John croaked about needing food. At John's instruction, Anna ordered him the biggest steak they had, rare. They drank the tea by the fireplace, and John's trembling began to subside. Once the food arrived, John attacked the steak until he had devoured it. He gobbled down the baked potato, grilled vegetables, and the entire loaf of bread. Anna nibbled at her chicken and rice, a look of concern on her face the whole time.

Finally, John sat back and rested in the chair. He felt better, not fully restored but better. Energy was returning to his body, and now all he wanted to do was sleep. The wolf was especially lethargic, and he sent it a feeling of concern. He felt its gratitude, like a warm, fresh spring breeze, and it went to sleep.

Anna looked around and confirmed they could speak without being overheard. The bar area was almost deserted at this hour. She leaned in and put her hand on John's forehead. He felt much warmer.

"John, what happened back there?" she asked quietly.

"What did you see?" he whispered.

"You were talking to me, then I saw you looking at the kids running towards us. They ducked into an alley, and I was suddenly standing in complete darkness. It was so cold. I tried to call out to you, but I felt you standing right next to me, and you touched my lips to keep me quiet. I calmed down, but I still couldn't see anything. When the light suddenly came back, I saw you ready to tip over."

John glanced around before he answered. "Remember the woman who attacked me at work? The one who infected me with the second entity? The darkness you were standing in was that entity. The kids were like her. Hunters. They targeted you and didn't even seem to see me. When you saw them duck into the alley, they actually became shadows and disappeared, moving from darkness to darkness." He stopped as the waitress came by to remove the plates. After she left to get the bill, he continued. "They stabbed me with their shadows and began feeding on my life. So freaking cold! Here is where things get really weird." He stopped to think about what he'd just said and burst out laughing.

When he couldn't stop, Anna got worried. She gripped his chin and made him face her. Her look of concern seemed to snap him out of his hysterics. He struggled to pull himself together and was reasonably collected when the waitress arrived. He paid for the meal, and the woman left.

"Sorry about that. It's all so freaking weird, and I'm starting to get used to it, which terrifies me," he told Anna. She just nodded.

"The... let's call them shadows. They were fragments or splinters of the darkness inside of me. They came from the entity I'm hosting. When it recognized them as part of itself, it wanted them back and ate them. It ripped them from the two kids. I don't know what it left behind. You said they were alive. That's good! I just hope their minds were undamaged."

"Was the woman from Seattle?" Anna asked.

John recalled Kate Darrows ran a publishing company in Seattle. This was her 'hood. He felt much less safe if she'd left pieces of her entity to roam the street hunting people. The darkness within him stirred at the thought of getting more of itself back. John flashed it an image of himself being speared by the two shadows, and he got the immediate impression of it acknowledging the danger of not protecting him. John would have preferred a little remorse, but he thought that particular emotion wasn't part of its vocabulary. He wondered if it was capable of relating to any emotion.

John looked at Anna. "Yes, she lived and worked here. I get the impression that she hunted here too. If she left more like those two, this city isn't as safe as I'd hoped." He yawned mightily. "I need to sleep. I promised the wolf a run tomorrow. Let's head back."

Anna still had to lend John a hand as he was still feeling a little shaky. She got him back to the condo and tucked him into bed. Then she went about making preparations for the following day.

Chapter 15

When John woke up the following morning, he did so with the sensation of having his face licked. His eyes popped open in surprise, but he was alone in the room. He felt the restlessness of the wolf roaming in the back of his mind. He assumed it was eager to get moving on its play day. He mentally shook his finger at the wolf for the virtual face licking and felt its amusement. He quickly showered and pulled on his running gear. Then he stopped. With the eventful night he'd had, he'd forgotten to research a place to run, and he wasn't sure if he would remain in human form when he let the wolf out. What happens to his clothes? GAH! He needed information! There was only one person he knew he could call to find out, and the wolf wasn't happy about that.

He picked up the phone and dialed pound-one-thousand-and-one. It rang five times, and he was just hanging up when he heard a grumpy "What!" He returned the handset to his ear.

"Sasha, sorry to disturb you so early, but I'm going to take him for a run, and I needed to ask you about..." he stopped, afraid to say anything incriminating over the phone.

"Ugh! Noobies are so stupid. I will be right up," she grumbled and hung up.

He looked at the phone in annoyance, then hung up.

John walked out towards the kitchen and heard the sounds of activity. He also heard singing! He walked in with a smile and saw Anna busy at work preparing a huge breakfast. She looked up and beamed at him.

"Oh, John, this kitchen is wonderful! Everything you need is at your fingertips with just the minimal effort needed. So much workspace too! I've made you a good breakfast as you probably still need to recharge from last night, and you'll need energy for your run today. I'm also baking a tourtiere for when you return tomorrow," she gushed.

He grinned widely and gave her a big hug. She laughed and hugged him back.

John looked at all the grocery bags on the counter and raised his eyebrows. "Where did all this come from?"

"Your fridge was empty, and the cupboards were bare. Last night I called that wonderful man Mr. Stills who told me how to order groceries on the TV, and they delivered them this morning. It went on your account. I hope you don't mind," she said with a concerned look.

"Anna! Please! You bought me groceries! Why would I mind? Thank you so much!" He gave her another hug, and she returned it happily.

He walked back to the kitchen entrance and turned back to Anna. "I hope you don't mind, but we will have company in a minute. I need to speak to Sasha about running as a wolf. She sounded pretty grumpy when I woke her up," he explained. John was still concerned about Anna's safety around Sasha. He looked at the ring on his finger. He sent the wolf an image of him removing the ring and the wolf waiting until they were in the woods. He felt acceptance in return. Then he sent an impression of Sasha attacking Anna and the wolf protecting her. He suddenly felt the wolf's approval like he'd gotten something right. He felt embarrassingly warmed by its praise.

"This is just in case," he said to Anna and slipped the ring off his finger. Anna gasped, but he just smiled at her. She relaxed and smiled back. He felt no different. Magic is weird, he thought.

The doorbell chimed, and he walked over and looked through the peephole. Sasha stood on the other side with a frown flipping him the bird. The wolf bristled, so John let it deal with the woman. He flung the door open, reached out and grabbed the upraised wrist, and yanked her forward and down into the condo. Sasha gave a surprised squeal and tripped forward. John was right there in front of her and dropped to one knee with Sasha over the other. His left hand gripped the hair on the back of her head, keeping her in place over his knee. Her tiny silk bathrobe flipped up, and he tugged it the rest of the way with his right hand. He gave her no time to prepare before his palm came down on her completely exposed ass with a cracking slap. She squealed again, loudly.

Two more rapid, powerful slaps rained down, one for each cheek, followed by a squeal from Sasha. Only then did she begin to growl. He pulled her head back until she could see his right hand held out before her face. The growls slipped into whines when she realized he was no longer wearing the ring. He leaned down to put his mouth next to her ear.

"My wolf would be content to see you dead just because of your bad attitude and behavior. If you can learn to show the proper respect to his new host, I might be able to save you, and you just might become someone worth saving." John's right hand settled on the tender flesh of her ass, and she hissed through her teeth as he gently rubbed her skin. Quickly her hisses became moans.

Before she could really begin to enjoy his touch, he pulled her upright and straightened out her silk kimono, tying it neatly closed. "Now, we must be respectful of my company. Anna has prepared a wonderful breakfast. Let's go eat." He led the way back into the kitchen and to a lovely table with plenty of morning sunlight pouring in the large window. Anna stood by the stove, her face flushed with embarrassment from the sounds she'd overheard. She said good morning to Sasha, who returned the greeting respectfully.

"How do you like your eggs, Sasha?" Anna asked.

"No eggs, coffee..." She sniffed. "...and bacon. Maybe some toast?" At John's glare, she added, "Please!"

Sasha sat gingerly on her chair with a little wince.

John went directly to the coffee machine and poured two cups. He checked the tea and asked Anna if she was ready for a cup. He set the coffees on the table, one in front of Sasha and one for himself, then poured some tea for Anna and placed it in her spot. She brought plates over to the table, and they all dug in.

The food was wonderful, and Anna made sure John had a double serving to bring his energy levels up. When he pushed himself back from the table, he felt pleasantly full. He smiled at Anna.

"Thank you very much for a delicious breakfast!" John said.

"You are most welcome, sir. When are you leaving?" she asked.

John looked at the wall clock and saw he had an hour before the cabbie would pick him up. "My ride will be here at ten. Sasha, where should I go to take him for a run? Do you know where Wallace went? I assume that's where my wolf prefers."

The blonde looked at him from under her straight white bangs and seemed to be cautiously gauging his mood. He let his eyes flicker with gold, and her blue eyes widened. "Wallace took me once. Is beautiful. I don't remember name, but I remember how to get there. You should bring me. Change first time... is difficult."

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea...." John said hesitantly and looked to the wolf to confirm what she was saying. The impression he got back was a kind of reluctant uneasiness about the change. The wolf really wanted to run, but it acknowledged that it wasn't going to be all fun for John. He sent a feeling of gratitude to the wolf and acceptance that it was necessary. A burst of fresh mountain air and mists dripping through pine needles rushed through his senses. The closest the wolf got to hugging him. He smiled and looked back at Sasha, who was watching him curiously.

"You... speak with wolf?" she said quietly.

"Not so much speak as we share visuals and impressions. The wolf is really amazing! Like a force of nature itself, with attitude! I've never felt so in touch with the life of the planet." He saw an odd look in her eyes. "How do you communicate with yours?"

Sasha looked down, her face pinking up. "Is not important. So you take me?"

He regarded her and read her body language. She was almost trembling with her need for him to accept her. He was aware of the wolf's opinion of the woman and Anna's, for that matter. But something in him believed she could be a valuable friend. She just needed a chance. He did a quick check with the wolf, and it wasn't going to fight him on it. He felt its pleasure in being considered, though. He smiled again.

"All right," John agreed.

Her smile exploded across her face, and even Anna was dazzled.

"I'm curious about the change. What about our clothes?" he asked.

"Wallace keeps running pack in master bedroom closet! I get!" Sasha said, leaping to her feet and dashing off to the bedroom.

"She's a beautiful woman, John. Will you be safe in the woods with her, or do you plan on spanking her some more?" Anna said, a slight edge in her tone.

John blushed but defended his actions. "Sasha is very in tune with her wolf side. Perhaps more than her human one. I let my wolf speak a language she understands, but I filter it with my compassion. She has tremendous potential if she is willing to work at it."

"I am good worker. You will see," Sasha said from the doorway.

"She's also very fast," Anna smirked.

Sasha entered with a camouflage backpack and set it on her chair. She opened it and pulled out the contents. There was a small camouflage tent, a sturdy camping shovel, a lightweight sleeping bag, a small first aid kit, and waterproof bags.

"That's it?" John asked, surprised.

"When I went with Wallace, we drove to trailhead... why are we not driving?" she paused, puzzled.

"I don't know how to drive," John replied.

Sasha blinked at him, obviously suppressing her natural reaction to make a rude comment. She continued. "That time, we ran as humans until we decided to leave trail. We crossed country until we make a safe distance. We set up tent near stream and put clothes in bags. We bury clothes away from tent and hide shovel. Then we change. We ran for rest of day. We move fast and ran far. We hunted and ate that night, making our way back to clothes. When at clothes we changed back. We dug up clothes and slept in tent until morning. Then as humans, we pack up and run back to car."

"Sounds like a good plan," John said. Then he noticed how small the tent was. "Uh, will you bring your own tent and sleeping bag?"

"It gets very cold in mountains. Is safer to share to stay warm," she said with a straight face, but she couldn't hide the twinkle in her eye.

Anna snorted and stood up to begin clearing away the plates.

John felt nervous about sleeping in such close quarters with the blond vixen. He was even more worried about not sleeping in such close quarters with her. But he needed her help on this, so he'd take it one step at a time. Sasha went home to get changed into her running clothes. He'd told her to meet him downstairs at ten.

When he and Anna were alone, he asked her what she had planned for the day. She said that she was thinking of looking for a home furnishings store to pick up the items they'd discussed for the condo. He smiled at that.

"Mr. Stills can probably point me in the right direction. I can put it on my credit card, and you can reimburse me," Anna said.

"That would be great! Thanks! You'll be back before dark, though, right? I'm nervous about there being more of those shadow hunters."

"Yes, John, I'll be back before dark."

"Oh! I'll need to get you a spare key fob as I will be out," John remembered. He picked up the phone and contacted Mr. Stills, who promised to have a fob waiting for Anna at the security desk when she headed out.

He looked at the clock and saw it was time to head downstairs. He grabbed the running pack, his wallet, keys, and phone. He'd have to turn his phone off when it was buried with his clothes, and he wasn't likely to have any reception out there. He started to worry about Anna, but she caught the expression and shooed him out, saying he was cramping her style.

"Go run! And keep an eye on Sasha. See if you can keep it to just your eye," she teased.

He smiled and headed downstairs. He met Sasha in the lobby and had to struggle not to stare. God! Her running tights were so form fitting, and her form was so... He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. It was too late, though. He saw her flare her nostrils and smile with satisfaction as she read his mounting excitement.

They walked outside, and Jerry was waiting at the curb with a big smile. That smile threatened to split his face in two once he saw John's partner. He opened the back door of the cab, and Sasha entered, John following her in. They pulled away from the curb, and Sasha gave the driver instructions as they drove; north of Seattle on highway four-oh-five to highway five-twenty-two over to highway two. John began to suspect Sasha had been less than truthful to him again. Another lie to get her way.

The third set of instructions she gave Jerry was for their final destination; highway two to Skykomish where the trailhead began. This let slip the fact that she'd known the name of their destination all along. John's wolf reacted excitedly when it heard it, confirming it for John. Sasha smiled back at John and saw his glare. She suddenly realized her error, and he saw fear in her eyes. Not fear of pain but fear of rejection.

Slowly he reached over and gathered the fabric of her collar by her throat in his hand. He pulled her gently but steadily towards him, glaring into her eyes the entire time. Her big blue eyes began to well up with tears. He put his forehead against hers and whispered fiercely to her. "No. More. Lies. If you continue to lie to me, we are done. Is this understood?"

She nodded silently, and he moved his hands up to wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. She pressed her cheek against his palm.

John turned inwards to communicate with the wolf. He pictured a wolf pack with a stray wolf on the outskirts, desperately trying to be admitted to the group but getting rejected because of its odd behavior. John felt that rush of fresh air again, and he knew he'd hit the nail on the head. Next, he pictured a wolf pack with just one lonely black wolf in it and the odd stray still trying to join. John left the wolf contemplating that image. He came back, and Sasha rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing her body tight up against his. It wasn't sexual. It was just a need for contact.

They rode on in silence, and Sasha fell asleep. As she'd already mentioned their destination, that wasn't an issue. Traffic was fairly light once they'd finally gotten away from the city, but it took almost two hours to reach Skykomish. John had the cab drop them off at a small roadside restaurant and paid him double the fare as a tip, and received a promise that he'd pick them up in twenty-four hours and wait, with the meter running, if they were late. The happy man drove away while Sasha blinked sleep from her eyes. The air was definitely cooler here, so he was glad to be wearing full-leg running tights. He glanced once more at Sasha's sleek curves and unsuccessfully looked away before she noticed. She led him into the restaurant with a satisfied grin, swinging her hips just a little more than necessary.

After they had topped up their energy stores, they made their way to the trailhead. John secured the backpack comfortably on his back, and they set off up the trail, Sasha in the lead. John's wolf bristled, but he vetoed changing their position as he was enjoying the view of her ass and legs in her tights. They walked at a brisk pace until they could no longer feel their lunch in their stomachs. Then they picked up their speed and kicked it up again until they were running up the trail. They passed a couple of other groups of hikers who watched them in amazement at the pace they were setting. More than once, John heard comments about how they'd burn out when the trail turned into the steep switchbacks.

They were well up the trail and hadn't seen anyone for over thirty minutes when Sasha pointed to an opening in the woods to the side of the path. Truthfully, it was no more than a deer passage, but she darted off to the left, and he followed. While the quality of the trail definitely diminished, their pace increased, and John felt the wolf really beginning to enjoy itself. He was certainly enjoying the chase. After another thirty minutes, they arrived at a small glade in the woods with a stream running along its edge.

Panting from their effort, Sasha pointed to where the tent should be set up, and John dropped the pack to pull the tent out. In short order, they had a small shelter resting on the soft floor of the forest. John peered inside and realized it really was a one, maybe a one-and-a-half-man tent. Cozy indeed. He glanced up at Sasha, and she unsuccessfully tried to look away before he caught her grin. John tossed in the sleeping bag, first aid kit, and the empty backpack. He picked up the shovel and the water-tight bags and followed Sasha further uphill. She found a spot where the ground was soft and relatively free of tree roots. He dug a shallow pit, and they took off their clothes, folded them neatly, and slipped them into the bags. He shut off his phone, which had no signal anyway, and put his small running pouch in with his clothes. They sealed the bags and placed them in the pit. He covered the bags and replaced the moss.

"Now piss on it," Sasha said with a straight face.

"What?" he yelped.

"You must mark it to keep others away," she looked at his groin expectantly.

John immediately had shy bladder issues and blushed. Sasha burst into giggles at his expression.

"I just tease. No one will disturb. I will find by scent," she remarked with a wicked grin.

He shook his head and grinned back at her. "Bitch!"

"Now you are learning," she said with a smile. She took the shovel and buried it a few hundred yards away under some leaves. When she returned, she noticed he had an erection and a fierce blush. She smiled, but there was a stiffness to that as well.

"I am flattered, but we must change now. First times are not fun. You will fight it. My advice is do not fight. Is hard, but you must give in. Surrender." Her eyes were full of concern at this point, and John was getting seriously spooked. His wolf was picking up on his anxiety, and he felt it pacing, fearing he would change his mind. John sat on the forest floor and used his yoga breathing exercises to steady himself. The wolf paused, then sat beside him in his mind. He reached out and hugged the wolf and whispered in its ear.

"Go."

Pure joy splashed back on him from the wolf, and his heart filled with it.

Then the pain started. The wolf spread from his mind to the outer edges of his body, and the burning began. Instinctively, he pulled back from the pain, but he felt it sharpen to sanity breaking levels when he did, so he kept up the yoga meditation in his mind while he opened himself to change. The burning got worse and worse, and it took everything he had to not react but instead just accept as Sasha advised.

Then it was suddenly over, and he opened his eyes. His senses exploded! Colors beyond the spectrum he'd known before. The richest tones from sounds he couldn't possibly have noticed. Nature was a symphony! Scents were a completely new experience! So many layers! It was as though the world had just grown a thousand times bigger and more interesting! The texture of the forest floor under his massive paws... He looked down and felt the wolf's amusement at his shock from being in the wolf's body.

He picked up the scent of fear and need and swung his nose in their direction. A big silver wolf was groveling and rolling on its back. It wet itself in fear, and its eyes seemed slightly crazed. His wolf's first instinct was to kill the weakened creature, but John knew it was Sasha and knew he needed her. He envisioned the pack of one again, and his wolf huffed a breath of annoyance.

It walked over to the trembling beast, which began to whine as it winced its eyes closed. His wolf bent down and gently put its massive jaws around the throat of the submissive wolf, then pulled back and licked its nose. It moved further away and watched the silver wolf freeze. Then it was under the maw of his wolf, frantically licking at his jaw and yipping. He growled, and the silver wolf shot forward and began to run in circles around and in front of his wolf. John was happy Sasha's wolf was so excited to be accepted, but his wolf was less impressed.

Instead, it lifted its nose and caught the wind's direction. It set its course for the nearby mountain and began to lope towards the dense forest on its lower slopes.

Sasha came close to barrelling into him in her excitement several times, but after a quick growl and a nip, she settled down and fell in line.

They ran for hours, and John marveled at the land's beauty and how much more real and immediate it felt as a wolf. He sent the wolf an apology for keeping it confined to his comparatively blind human form and felt a lick on his face.

The sun was going down, and it was time to hunt.

Working as a team, John and Sasha's wolves tracked a herd of deer over one of the mountains as they made their way back towards the tent.

John's wolf took a scent, and he noticed something off. Sasha's wolf picked up on it, and the wolves shared a look. There was a connection, a unity of purpose. They moved as one over the ridgeline and spotted their target. It was an old buck with an injury to its hind quarters. Infection had set in. The nerves of the buck's leg were ruined with the rot, and its haunch twitched uncontrollably.

It hadn't scented them, so they remained downwind. John's wolf found an ambush point behind a rock outcropping next to the trail the buck was standing on but downwind. Without a second glance, the silver wolf moved up the hill to get behind the injured deer. A light breeze came over the ridge, and so did the silver beast, slowly pacing down the trail. The buck lifted its weakened neck and picked up the new scent in the air. It knew a predator was closing in. Favoring its injured leg, it set off briskly down the trail. Sasha's wolf began to run, and the buck accelerated directly through the rocks and into the trap of the huge black wolf. A snap from its powerful jaws, and it was over. Sasha caught up, and the two wolves dragged the buck a short distance from the trail.

John returned to his mental yoga relaxation exercises as the two wolves ate their fill from the buck. The savagery was distasteful for the man inside the wolf, but it didn't seem offended in the slightest. It was delighting in gobbling down mouthful after mouthful of deer meat and paid him no mind. Sasha's wolf finished and watched nervously as John's continued to gorge itself on the heavy meal. Finally, the big wolf licked its chops and turned from the carcass.

They set course for the tent, chasing each other through the woods playfully. It took roughly ninety minutes until they were back on the hillside where they'd buried their clothes. Sasha's wolf trotted up with the shovel in its mouth and dropped it at his paws. Then she began to change. John thought the process was fascinating until his wolf indicated it was his turn. The fire he'd felt entering his limbs when he became the wolf was twice as painful when it was leaving his cells. John hadn't mentally prepared himself, so it hit him hard. He shook and screamed silently as the streaks of fire pealed themselves out of his limbs and sunk into his mind.

John felt his consciousness slipping away from him as his body twisted and warped. There was a sensation of intense heat in his belly, and his body felt heavy and shot full of sparks at the same time. He clamped down on his mind and tried to just let the change happen, not to fight it. It got easier, then there was a huge flash of energy, and he whited out.

John found himself sprawled out on the forest floor face down. Everything hurt, and everything trembled. He sensed his wolf poking him with its cold nose, trying to see if he was dead or worth reviving. He surprised it by visualizing giving its nose a lick. He sensed amusement and relief.

He gathered his arms under himself and shakily pushed himself up to his knees. He looked up and saw Sasha sitting cross-legged, watching him with huge eyes.

"What?" he wheezed.

"First change can leave permanent alterations," she whispered. "I was brunette."

John glanced at her beautiful white locks and fair eyebrows, trying to imagine them brown or black. He couldn't. He looked down at himself in the dim light of the partial moon and couldn't see any difference until he touched his chest and slid his hands down his torso.

Since he'd first been bitten, he worked out and hardened his muscles. He'd lost his softness over the intervening weeks, but he hadn't added any real mass. His fingers moved over slabs of hardened pectorals and over the new ridges of his stomach. He touched his thighs and felt ropes of muscles that weren't there before. He wasn't huge and bulky, but he certainly wasn't the slim and trim hard body he'd been before.

"Shit!" he yelped and jumped to his feet.

Sasha stood up quickly and clutched his arm as he wobbled, suddenly dizzy. Something was off. He couldn't place it, but something else had changed. Sasha stood directly in front of him, and he looked into her eyes, puzzled. The angle was wrong. She was four inches taller than him when they'd met, and he recalled almost craning his neck to look at her. Now it was... much... less.

Sasha was admiring his new musculature. She ran her hands over his arms and squeezed his thick biceps. She slid her fingertips over his chest and down over his six pack. She looked further down and saw he was responding to her touch.

"Oh! You have been gifted here too!" she said as she took him in her hands.

"Sasha!" he yelled, pulling away.

"Sorry, just warming hands," she smiled wickedly.

"Speaking of warm, it's freezing out here. Let's get our clothes on and get to the tent." He bent down and grabbed the shovel. He was still a little wobbly. He looked around. "Where did we bury it?"

"Use nose. Scent of plastic," Sasha suggested.

He raised his eyebrows, thinking she was teasing him again but gave it a try anyway. He did smell something that didn't belong. He walked a short way, following his nose, and felt the slight rise in the moss. He pulled it aside and carefully scraped the top soil off until he hit plastic. He looked back at Sasha with a grin. He pulled the bags up and went to open them.

"Not yet. Run to tent to warm up," Sasha said seriously. She snatched a bag and began to lope away barefoot. He had no choice but to follow as she had the bag with his clothes. He somehow managed not to step on anything sharp as he ran. He caught up to the woman at the entrance to the tent. She was wiping her feet on some moss, then she knelt and went into the tent feet first. She must have thrown his clothes into the tent first as he couldn't see the bag. He mimicked her actions and crawled into the small tent after her.

It was absolute darkness inside the tent. Sasha must have opened the sleeping bag before she got in as he felt it covering the tent's floor and run up each side slightly. He thought he might try to pull the bag over them, but with her body squeezed against his, the small tent was actually beginning to feel comfortable.

"How are we supposed to get dressed in here?" he asked.

"We don't. Skin to skin is warmer," she said simply.

He was aware of her soft skin and her firm breasts pressing against his chest. Her scent of sweet flowers and earth was maddeningly enticing. Her breath was on his face, and his face leaned forward automatically until his lips encountered the softness of her mouth. He pulled back, surprised at himself. When her lips found his in the dark, he didn't pull away. The tip of her tongue slid across his lower lip, and he touched it with his. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he gently sucked it. Her breathing sped up, and he felt her hands running over his body. His hands craved touching her skin, so he gave in to the urge, and his right hand found and cupped a breast. He gently squeezed and pulled the nipple, and Sasha sighed into his mouth and clung to him tighter.

John gasped when her hand slid around his erection. She gently stroked it up and down until his breathing was filled with gasps.

His hand slid down to her ass, and he began to knead the firm flesh. Sasha gasped and rocked forward against his groin. He felt himself sliding up and down her wet opening. She began to position herself to take him inside, but he froze.

"I don't have a condom!" he gasped.

"Is fine. I'm not in heat," she explained.

"What? What does that mean?" he asked, confused.

"I cannot get pregnant at this time," she stressed and tried to mount him again.

John took her chin firmly in his hand and put his forehead against hers. "Truth?" he growled.

She held very still and whispered, "Yes."

He pulled her under himself and took her lips in a deep kiss, and she clung to him. He found her entrance and began to slide himself slowly inside her. She gasped and whimpered joyfully. Her kiss became almost frantic as he reversed direction and slid outwards. When he started to push back in, she arched up to meet him, plunging him all the way to her depths. She sighed deeply and reached down to hold his ass as he began to pick up the pace. Her whimpers were becoming frantic, and she pulled his ass with every thrust until he was pounding into her like a hammer. Her tongue explored John's mouth until she suddenly threw her head back and wailed loudly. Her muscles locked up and twitched as she rode wave after wave of her orgasm. Her squeezing contractions were enough to push John over the edge as well.

Sasha moaned again as she felt his orgasm surge inside her.

They rode their crests down into a blissful state of satisfaction. John rolled them onto their sides but remained deep inside her. They rested in silence for a while.

"Thank you," she said in the comfortable silence.

John was taken by surprise. "You're... welcome?"

"Not for sex. You are stupid." Her familiar words were harsh, but he heard the affection in her tone this time. "For convincing wolf to accept me. I cannot say how much it means."

"A pack of one is no pack," John said.

He felt her tremble, intimately and all over. "I am pack!" she squealed with joy.

John grinned in the dark and felt his wolf huff with resignation in his mind. He sent it his heartfelt gratitude.

"I'm new to this too, so I listen carefully to everything my wolf tells me. We expect you to do the same. He doesn't suffer fools. Well, not for long," John cautioned.

He felt her nodding.

"We'd better get some rest." John rolled onto his back, slipping free from the warmth of Sasha's body. She immediately snuggled in under his arm and threw a leg over his. Sated, they both fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 16

The next morning John crawled from the tent and opened his bag of clothes. Dancing in the chilly air, he quickly pulled on the tights and wicking shirt. He immediately had a problem. They didn't fit. His legs strained against the stretchy leggings, and his shirt was so tight across his shoulders that he felt the seams pulling when he reached his arms forward. The worst news was that his shoes no longer fit. He'd gone up at least a full shoe size, probably two. He undid the laces as far as he could and jammed them on his feet before re-lacing them closed.

It wouldn't be comfortable, but he'd be protected on the run back, at least.

He reached into the tent and ran his thumb across Sasha's full lower lip. She smiled and opened her eyes. "Come on, sunshine, we have to get moving. My clothes no longer fit, so I'm freezing. We need to start running," he said.

She pulled herself out of the tent and stretched luxuriously, knowing full well the effect it had on him. Then she squealed at the cold and grabbed her clothing bag. She pulled on her running gear and helped him pack up their sleeping bag and tent. Once everything was secured in the backpack, they set off to make their way back to the trail and kept their pace up to stay warm. Once on the trail, they opened up their speed, only slowing when they got closer to Skykomish, where they might be spotted.

They reached the little restaurant thirty minutes before noon, and their ride hadn't arrived yet. They found a table by the window and relaxed while they drank their hot chocolate and munched on huge homemade muffins. John finally remembered to turn his phone back on. Once it got a fix on a carrier, it chirped to indicate he had voicemail. He flipped his phone to speaker and set it on the table top.

The first message played.

Detective Molina's gruff voice came through slightly distorted as he was evidently talking on his cell outside in traffic.

"Mr. Doe, this is Detective Molina of the Portland Police Department. There was a break-in at Century Traveler earlier this evening. Your employer, Deron Clarke, confronted an unknown assailant and is now in critical condition in the hospital. The store was torched, and it's completely gutted. Please call me at the station at your earliest convenience."

John went white, and he doubled over like he'd received a body blow.

The second message started. Sasha was looking at him with concern.

"John, this is Carol Lozinski. I just got off the phone with Detective Molina. He's rather insistent that he speak with you immediately. Please give me a call when you get this message."

The phone beeped, and the third call began.

"Mr. Doe, this is Detective Molina again. I need you to call me right now. Your landlady's house has been torched. The structure hasn't cooled enough to do a search for her remains. I hope to God she wasn't in there. Call me."

John immediately grabbed the phone, hung up, then dialed his condo. It rang four times, and his heart felt like it would burst out of his chest.

"Hello?"

"Anna!" he gasped into the phone with relief.

"John? Is that you? What's wrong? What happened?" she cried.

"I'm fine. I was just checking on you. Thank God you're okay," he sagged with relief.

"Of course, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, flustered by his frightened tone.

"I just got back from the woods and turned on my phone. There were voicemails from Detective Molina. Someone broke into Century Traveler, assaulted Deron then torched the shop. He's in critical condition in the hospital," he explained.

"Oh my! The poor man!" Anna gasped.

"There's more... I'm so sorry, Anna, but the detective called again to tell me someone torched your home. It's gone. They thought you might've been home at the time." John felt like he was dying inside. That home had been hers and Ron's and had so many memories, and now it was ashes.

"Oh my! I should contact him," Anna said in a daze.

"No, please let my lawyer do it. I don't want anyone knowing where you are until they can find the guy who's burning down buildings. I'll be home in a couple of hours. Please wait for me. All right?"

"Yes, okay. I-I think I'm going to go sit down now and have a little cry," Anna said.

"Anna, I'm so sorry. I'll be home soon," he said but heard a click. He immediately dialed Carol.

"John! Where are you? The police are practically beating down the door to find you!" Carol blurted.

"I just got my messages. I've been deep in the woods north of Seattle with no phone access. I'm waiting for my lift, and it'll take me about two hours to get to the condo, then another two and a half at best to get back to Portland. I'll call you when I land, and we can go directly to Molina if you want. Please let him know. Also, please let him know that Anna Harrison is on vacation and is safe. She wasn't home when her house was torched."

"What? Her house was burned too?" Carol yelped.

"Someone, probably the same guy who destroyed the bookstore, burnt Anna's home to the ground. The cops thought she might have been inside. She's staying with me in Seattle, but I don't want anyone else to know until they get the guy," he explained.

"Okay, I'll call Molina now."

"Can you also make sure Deron Clarke is given the absolute best care in the hospital? Any expert they need, any equipment they need, they got it. Okay?"

"Got it. Call me when you land." She hung up.

John sat back and fought back tears. They weren't going to help. He needed to get back to Portland. He opened up the app on his phone to book a flight when he saw the cab pull into the lot. He grabbed Sasha's hand, and she snagged their pack as they ran for the car. Jerry was all smiles until he saw the grim looks on their faces. He jumped back in, and as soon as they were buckled in, he spun the wheel and peeled back onto the highway headed to Seattle, no questions asked.

"How quickly can we get back to the condo without losing your license?" John asked.

Jerry pulled a laser jammer from the glove box and plugged it in. "I can get you back in an hour and fifteen, traffic permitting," Jerry replied.

"Thanks! I'll need a lift to the airport, so keep the meter running," John said. Jerry nodded.

John bought tickets for two separate flights in case he missed the first.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Sasha held his hand.

When they got to the condo, he gave her a kiss in the elevator, and she exited on her floor, then he went up to his. He rushed into the unit and saw Anna sitting on a couch looking out over the city, used tissues piled up in a little trash can by her feet. He rushed to her and gave her a hug.

"John? What happened to you?" Anna gasped. "You're... bigger!"

"Damn! I was hoping it wasn't so noticeable. Apparently, the first time you transform, there can be... alterations when you change back. Sasha failed to mention it to me because it was just her hair color in her case. I got ... this!" he gestured to his new physique. "I'm taller, and my feet don't fit my shoes. How am I supposed to explain that to Molina? If you spotted the difference so quickly, he'll flip out. He hates the unexplainable."

Anna shook her head.

John took her hands in his. "Anna, I'm so sorry for your home being destroyed. You know you will always have a home with me. Before this happened, I was going to ask you if you would consider moving in permanently. This condo is nice, but it isn't home without you."

"But I have a job in Portland!"

"And you could set up a new branch of Haven Yoga center here in Seattle. It's a good investment for me if I can have you close by. Please think about it. I have to catch a flight now." He leaned in and gave Anna a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug. "Please stay."

He dashed to his bedroom to pack some clothes but realized nothing would fit. Anna's warning about needing a new wardrobe had come true with a vengeance.

He rushed back into the living room, gave Anna another quick peck on the temple then rushed to the cab. Jerry set a new cross-city speed record and got him to the airport in time for the first flight. He paid the cabbie four times the meter's huge fee, and his eyes bugged out. John promised to call the man when he returned.

As he ran for the gate, he called Carol.

"John? Are you in Portland already?" she asked, surprised.

"No, I'm just boarding the plane. I need you to pick me up some things before I get there." He gave her a list and hung up as he boarded the plane.

He was leaving the Portland terminal a little over an hour later when he heard Carol calling out to him from the curb.

"John? John! Oh my God! What happened to you?" Carol gasped.

"Shit! This is going to go so badly when we meet Molina!" John growled.

"Uh, I got the stuff you asked for. Now I understand why. Get in before they tow my car," she said, her eyes drinking in her client's new buff body, tightly stretching his running clothes. The parking official was also enjoying the view and licked her lips aggressively. He felt a little over-exposed in the overstressed spandex.

John slid into the passenger seat and slid it all the way back. He reached for the shopping bag in the backseat.

Carol pulled away from the curb and headed for the police precinct. She glanced over and saw John straining to remove his too-small running shoes. Next, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of the running tights and peeled them down his legs. Then he was sitting naked on the seat. Carol swerved back into her lane.

"Eyes on the road, Carol!" John growled, the wolf assisting.

She gasped as a shiver ran down her spine.

John tried to pull the shirt over his head, but in the tight confines of the car, he just managed to rip the shirt into shreds. Now he was completely naked and not happy about it.

"Oh my, John! You're beautiful!"

"Eyes forward!" he barked.

He pulled the new, white button-down shirt from the bag and managed to get it on with a great deal of contortions and without tearing it. The soft grey slacks slipped on next, and while they were still a little tight across his thighs, they at least weren't threatening to split down the seam.

The socks and boots would have to wait. There just wasn't room to put them on while seated in the car. He also spotted the trench coat, which might hide enough of his new body to keep the detective off the trail... but he doubted it. In their short acquaintance, Molina didn't strike him as easily distracted.

They pulled into the lot across the street from the precinct. He swung the car door open, then tugged on the socks and boots, which felt so much better than the cramped runners. Standing up, he pulled on the trench coat and found it wasn't as baggy as he'd hoped.

"Damn! Are you going to be a male model in your new life?" Carol grinned. "You look delicious!"

He blushed furiously and gestured for them to hurry. He was filled with dread.

They asked for the detective and were asked to wait in a conference room.

A few minutes later, a very exhausted Molina walked in and sat in the chair across from John. He rubbed his eyes and then took a long swig from his paper cup of coffee. Grimacing from the cool bitter liquid, he looked across the table at John. He went still.

"Fuck me," he said incredulously. He studied the man squirming in his seat, then sighed. "Do I even want to know?" he groaned tiredly.

John stared him in the eye and shook his head slowly.

The detective scowled. "Yeah, I do... but not today."

John could accept that. He nodded.

Having pushed that aside, the detective got right to it. "Mr. Doe, where were you yesterday between the hours of eight PM and midnight."

"I was camping in the woods north of a small town in Washington State called Skykomish. I was well up in the mountains and had no cell coverage. My phone was off until this morning at eleven-thirty. That's when I picked up my messages."

"Can anyone corroborate this, or were you alone?" he asked with an edge to his tone.

"I was with a friend, Sasha Leonov. She was a friend of Wallace Laroche and lives in the same building. I met her, and she took me to a spot that Wallace liked to camp."

"You met her when?" Molina asked.

"Two days ago."

"And she takes you camping? Really friendly people up there in Seattle," Molina said sarcastically.

John let it go as the man was obviously tired.

Molina scowled at him again, then rubbed his face. "I'll need a phone number to call her." John pulled it up on his phone and showed it to him. Molina tapped out a quick e-mail and sent the number to one of his junior officers to follow up on while he was questioning his suspect.

"Okay, let's move on. The attack on Mr. Clarke. Do you have any ideas who might hold a grudge against the man, anyone who might get violent with him?"

John's face paled. "What happened to him?"

"Please answer the question."

"No, no one hated Deron. He was a sweet man! Strong moral principles and a doting father. No enemies at all," John said, struggling to keep it together.

There was a knock at the door. Molina looked over his shoulder and saw one of the officers he'd left back at the bookstore. The man was gesturing with a folder, and his face was grim.

"Gimme a minute," the detective said, pushing himself to his feet. He stepped outside and closed the door.

"What's that about?" John asked.

"We'll find out. You're doing very well, John," Carol said, patting his arm. She had to pull her hand away as she wanted to slide it up and squeeze his bicep.

Molina nodded to the other officer. He opened the door, stepped in, and closed it behind him. He took a moment before turning back to the table to sit down. He looked John right in the eyes, assessing the man across the table.

"The case has just been upgraded from assault and arson to include murder," he said, watching carefully for John's reaction.

John froze. "Deron's dead?" His face went white with shock.

Molina grimaced. "No, who worked on the top floor?"

"Kelly? Kelly's dead?" his voice barely a whisper.

"We believe so, but the remains have yet to be identified. What do you make of this?" the detective slid a photo across the table toward John.

Frightened to look, he averted his face and watched Carol. He saw her brow furrow in confusion as she looked at the image. He turned back and saw it was a view of Kelly's computer lab. All the photos Kelly had pinned to the wall were gone, and in their place were three large letters smeared across the surface in something red.

D O E

Kelly was dead, and the killer was looking for him.

"Oh my god. It's him," John whispered.

"Who?" Molina leaned forward, his eyes sharpening.

"Kelly told me someone was trying to hack my e-mail account. Had been trying for a few days. Kelly played him, and he left. He came back later and tried taking our whole network down as a distraction while they continued to try hacking into my account. She said he was really good and persistent but not as good as her. She was working with the FBI to track this guy as they've been trying to get him for years. She said she was close to getting him."

"Why was he after your account?" Molina asked.

"I don't kno--"

"DON'T YOU BULLSHIT ME!" Molina yelled and slammed his hands on the table.

John recoiled. He barely heard Carol jumping to his defense. The loud slap on the table after the multiple hits of emotional trauma after weeks and weeks of odd shit was enough to push him into a dissociative state. He sunk into his mind and found himself sitting in a lovely meadow on the side of a mountain. Blue skies arched over him, white clouds majestically gliding by and sunlight dappling the valley floor below. A fresh breeze blew across his face, and he smiled.

"Hello, Wolf," he said as he turned his face to the right. The huge black wolf sat next to John, contemplating him silently.

"It's nice. I can see why you come here." John wasn't sure how he knew, but this place was important to the wolf.

John jumped to his feet when the wolf gave him a nip.

"What the fuck!" he yelled, holding the painful spot where the wolf bit him. It tilted its head and continued to look at him.

John looked around for another spot to sit down but yelped with pain instead from a stronger nip. He hadn't seen the wolf move, but it was definitely responsible for the bites. John looked at the wolf and understood. The wolf needed him to leave. To re-enter the world.

"People die out there. People you care about die," he whispered, his voice shaking.

He saw an image of Anna, Melanie, Satomi, and even Sasha and felt almost overwhelmed by the sensations of cool winds, damp earth, and spring flowers. He caught the message. Life was out there. Life that was still important to him. He hugged the wolf and felt soft hands on his face.

"John!"

He distantly heard her voice then the room snapped back into focus.

"Clay tablet," John whispered.

"What did he say?" Molina's gruff voice said.

John turned his head towards the detective's voice. He saw the man leaning forward on the desk. "Was anything stolen? Like a large crate containing a clay tablet?"

"They're still picking through the rubble. Some rooms took far more damage than others. The stock room was badly scorched. What was so special about the tablet?" the cop asked.

"The buyer I had lined up was willing to spend close to half a million for it. I was brokering the deal. It was in the stockroom when I left. It was one of two, and the other one was involved in a... murder," he explained, feeling ill.

"How does that connect to this hacker?" Molina asked.

"The hacking began shortly after I began working on the deal. Kate Darrows..." his mind drifted off and ran away ahead of him, connecting the dots.

"What about her?

"She visited the shop the day the tablet was supposed to be delivered. It was delayed by a day. Out of the blue, she asked if we could find her ancient texts on scrolls and tablets, and she forced her way into the stockroom before she lost her shit and attacked me. After the attack and her death, the buyer's e-mails dried up. I told Deron of my suspicions that Kate might have been the buyer."

"You don't know who the buyers are?" the detective said, surprised.

"Confidentiality policy. Kelly probably knew, and Deron could get access, but no one other than them and our financial auditors have access to private records."

"Again, how does this connect to the hacker?" Molina said.

"After Kate Darrows died, the hacker got much more aggressive in trying to get into my account. But he had no idea how good Kelly was. She figured out how to track him and brought in her friends with the FBI... you should contact them. Maybe the hacker and Kate were working together. Did you get anything from Kelly's servers?" Each time John uttered his friend's name, he felt a deep painful pull in his chest.

"They were either destroyed or taken. We have nothing," the detective admitted.

John pulled up his e-mail on his phone. He scrolled through the messages. "I don't normally have work e-mail on here, strictly against office policy, but the first day my account went down at work due to hacking, I tried e-mailing a copy of the scroll request to my personal account. When the account came back up, the queued message went through. I never got around to deleting it. It's not much, but your guys may be able to get something from the header. This person recommended us to the tablet buyer." John found the message and forwarded it to Molina as an attachment, as Kelly had shown him, to preserve the security information in the original email. Molina did the same to his tech team.

"We'll look into it. Now, where is Mrs. Harrison?" the cop asked.

"Safe. I have her with me in Seattle. Please don't let that information out. Until the bastard who did this is caught, the fewer people who know where she is, the better." John had a frightening thought. "Have you spoken with Melanie, Satomi, or Franklin?"

"Mr. Cho and Ms. Kimura are in protective custody. We haven't been able to reach Ms. Singh yet," Molina said uneasily.

John leaped to his feet. "What? Did you go by her place? Did you contact her family?"

"Don't tell me how to do my fucking job! She's not home, and we've got units outside her condo and her parents' house. Outside of that, there isn't much we can do."

John felt incredibly powerless. He couldn't help anyone! Then he thought of his friend in the hospital. "I need to see Deron. Are we done here?" John asked.

"We're done when I fucking say we're done," Molina barked.

Carol had quite enough of that. "We're done here. Detective, get some rest. You're no help to anyone in this state."

John followed Carol out. He saw a surprised look, then a grim scowl on the detective's face as he got a better look at John's new body as they left the room. Carol led him out of the building, and they stood on the precinct's top step. Suddenly John couldn't get enough air in his lungs. He started to get dizzy, and Carol braced him against the stone railing leading down.

"She's dead. Oh god, Kelly's dead. And Melanie's missing!" he gasped as he doubled over with stomach cramps. Carol rubbed his back. John looked up, and across the street, in the entrance to the alley, he saw someone in a black leather duster watching him. He looked like Mr. Sass. John rubbed his face. When he looked back, there was no one there. The last thing he needed was to start hallucinating, but why not?

"Carol, could you take me to Deron's hospital?" he asked weakly.

"Of course, let's go," she said, leading the way back to the car.

John leaned back in the seat and kept his eyes closed. Before he knew it, they'd arrived. They found Deron's private room, which Carol had arranged for him. His wife Jeannie was sitting in a chair in the room.

"Mrs. Clarke? Hi, I'm John Doe, and this is my lawyer, Carol Lozinski."

"Are you the one who got us this room and the extra attention from the doctors?" Deron's wife Jeannie asked, tears in her eyes.

"Yes, the moment I heard he'd been attacked, I asked Carol to get him whatever he needed. Deron has always been so good to me. It was the least I could do."

Jeannie walked up and hugged John, and he returned it.

"What's his condition now?" he asked.

Jeannie started to cry against his chest. He looked at Carol for help, but she just shrugged. No maternal instinct there. John looked over at Deron and felt a definite tug from the darkness resting in his mind. It stirred as he looked at the injured man who was heavily bandaged, and John could see burns as well.

"Have you checked in with the girls recently? That will make you feel better. It always filled Deron with joy. I'll wait here with him. Carol, can you take Mrs. Clarke to a private phone?" Jeannie nodded, wanting to speak to her daughters since he'd planted the suggestion. Carol gave him a puzzled look but guided the woman from the room.

John stepped closer to the bed and felt his darkness rise up to the surface. A thin black mist formed before his eyes, and through it, he spotted three black spikes stabbing into Deron; one in his thigh, one on his arm, and one in the chest. His darkness wanted the spikes. They weren't parts of his entity, but they would replenish lost mass. Three black tendrils shot out of John's left hand and wrapped around the spikes. A single tug, and they were free and being consumed by his tendrils. John noted the strength of the energy in the dark spears. This was not like the energy he pulled from the street kids in Seattle. The creature that attacked Deron was of a kind to his darkness but far more concentrated and potent.

The black mist quickly retreated back into his body when it was done.

John looked up at the monitor and saw the numbers start to plummet. Deron was taking a turn for the worse now that the energy-draining spikes had been removed. It was like the holes left behind allowed his life force to drain away.

John panicked and cast his hands over his friends wanting to plug the holes with the shadow tendrils. He desperately wanted to heal his friend. Instead of the black entity, the white mist he saw with Melanie flowed from his hands. The darkness inside him recoiled from the light into the furthest corner of his mind. The white, smoky light spread all over his friend's body, coating every surface and sinking into the punctures where the spears had been lodged. Then the light faded. John wobbled on his feet and staggered back. The chair hit the back of his legs, and he slumped down into it, covering his face with his hands as the room spun.

Jeannie came in the door and saw John. Frightened, she rushed to her husband's side. Carol moved to John.

They heard a joyful sound from Jeannie and looked up. She was watching the monitor connected to her husband. His levels were returning to normal, and his breathing was no longer labored. His brow had relaxed as well. He really seemed to be just resting comfortably.

Jeannie rushed back to John, who was still trying to get his eyes to track properly. She knelt at his feet, grabbed his hands, and pressed her lips to them. "Thank you!" she cried.

"For what? I just told him to get off his ass because his wife and girls needed him," John said weakly.

She beamed a huge smile at him, then went back to Deron.

John staggered up, and Carol hooked her arm around his waist. They walked to the doorway, and John smiled back at the couple. They made it into the hall before Carol couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

John slumped back against the wall, and Carol braced him there with her hands on his chest. He closed his eyes as weariness swept over his body. "Whoever, or whatever, attacked him left something behind, like spikes. That's the only way I can describe it. It was draining his life away." He shrugged. "I took them out."

He didn't mention the white misty light as he still hadn't figured out what it was or where it came from. He rested for a minute, trying to regain his strength.

"Mr. Doe."

John's eyes opened to see Doctor Giamatto standing before them. Ol' Smiley wore his usual grim frown.

"I see you've miraculously recovered from your injuries.... you... look different..." the doctor said while eyeing him critically.

"Hi, Doc. Take good care of my friend, okay?" John said as Carol helped him straighten up.

"Good GOD! You're taller! Bigger!" Giamatto gasped. "Wait, you said this patient is your friend? Look, he's dying. We don't know why. If you care at all about him, you'd let me study your ability to heal so I could save him and others as well."

As they walked away, John looked over his shoulder with a weak smile. "Oh, I think he'll be fine now. I mean, he has you looking after him." John picked up his pace, sick of being in this building again.

Giamatto watched the greatest discovery of his career walking away. Something about what he said or how he said it... he suddenly turned and dashed into the room, startling Jeannie. He rushed up to the bed, looked at the monitor, and then down at the peacefully sleeping patient.

"What did he do?" he frantically asked Jeannie.

"I don't know! I was out of the room. But when I came back, John looked exhausted, and Deron was coming back to me." She started to cry tears of joy.

Giamatto peeled back one of the bandages over a burn on the patient's arm, but the skin underneath was no longer blistered and scorched! Fresh new skin was growing there.

The doctor ran to the door and looked down the hall, but they were gone.

Chapter 17

John woke up on silk sheets. He'd never experienced that sensation before, and he rather liked it. Then he stretched out and felt someone in the bed next to him. He raised his head and looked over. It was Carol! He pulled back before he woke her. He had no recollection of getting into the bed or getting out of her car, for that matter.

The evening before, John had barely managed to walk to the car after they'd left the hospital. He faded in and out of consciousness while Carol drove. She must have concluded that he needed food as he woke up once with a full bag of burgers on his lap. He ate them almost without chewing. After his eighth double burger, he leaned back and drifted off again. Now it was morning.

Gently pulling the sheets aside, he noticed that he was naked. Another gift from Carol. He slipped out of bed and looked for his clothes, but there was no sign of them. He quietly stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He hunted for his clothes throughout the condo until he found the laundry room, where he spotted them in the washing machine. He moved them over to the dryer and got it started.

Walking back out to the kitchen, he looked in the fridge as his stomach reminded him that it was time to eat. Carol was a confirmed bachelor. There was nothing edible in there, and the food in the pantry was ancient. They'd have to go out for breakfast. Wandering back into the living room, he found his wallet and phone, likely where Carol put them after stripping him naked. He checked for messages, but there was nothing. He tried dialing Melanie, but it went directly to voice mail.

Not knowing what else to do, he went into the guest bathroom and saw it had a large shower stall. He spotted the towels, so he stepped in to get cleaned up. His stomach reminded him again it was food time, but he just ignored its pitiful sounds.

The hot water felt wonderful, and the shampoo he found had a refreshing scent. It reminded him of the smell of Satomi's hair. Which reminded him of the bookstore and Kelly. A deep sadness filled him, and he leaned his head against the shower wall. It turned into frustration from his being so helpless to do anything. The frustration percolated into rage, and he didn't know what to do with that energy.

He felt a slight rush of cool air behind him, then soft hands sliding up his back. He wanted to tell Carol that his head wasn't really in that space, but she seemed aware of his mood. She picked up the soap and ran it over his back, building up a good lather. She moved this down his arms, then down his back, over his ass, and down his legs. Her hands were gentle but firm, and he took comfort in her touch.

She gently pulled him under the spray and rubbed the soap away, perhaps spending a little too much time ensuring his ass was rinsed off. She turned him around so his back was against the wall and repeated the process with his front. She avoided directly touching his groin and concentrated on simply cleaning him. Strangely, this had an inverse effect. The more she avoided touching his most intimate parts, the more they ached for her to handle them. Finally, she sighed dramatically like it was a major inconvenience and worked up a good amount of suds in her hands. She then cleaned his privates thoroughly until he was breathing hard. She suddenly stopped, pushed him gently under the spray, and rubbed the soap away. After she rinsed him clean, she surprised him by dipping down to one knee and taking him in her mouth down to the base in one move. He felt the back of her throat clamp down on his hardness. John's breath came out in a whoosh, and she bobbed her head quickly until he saw spots. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. Her smile was wicked as she saw the lust in his eyes. He surprised her by returning the favor. With his mouth pressed firmly to her sensitive flesh, his lips and tongue worked their magic, and she cried out in pleasure. Once he heard her breathing as heavily as he'd been, he stood up and lifted her into his arms. He positioned her over his stiff member and slammed her down on it. She screamed out her bliss and wrapped her legs around his hips.

There was nothing subtle about the sex. It was fast and hard and deep. With each thrust, Carol was losing her mind. She bit down on his shoulder and almost drew blood. He just moved faster, slamming their bodies together, and her cries grew frantic as she crested again and again. This was what she'd been craving since she laid eyes on him in the yoga club. Raw passion, but she hadn't expected it to be this good!

As John got closer to his own peak, he began to growl. Quietly at first, then more and more savagely. His movements became more brutal, and Carol held on with all of her strength though she felt like a leaf in a hurricane. His strength was overpowering. His snarls were ripping through her defenses, and she was delirious with a mix of atavistic fear and unbridled lust. Her eyes rolled back as her most intense orgasm yet tore through her core.

John erupted shortly after Carol, and he moved them under the needles of hot water. Just as Carol came down, he raised her and tugged one stiff nipple with his teeth while pinching the other. Not hard enough to do any damage but enough for her to definitely feel it. She squealed and began to shake through a surprise aftershock. She went limp in his arms.

John withdrew himself and held her up in one arm while he rinsed clean her delicate and abused flesh with his other hand. He shut the water off and carried her out. He sat on the toilet seat with her on his lap and used a towel to dry her off. She moaned softly, so he carried her back to her bed and threw the towel down before laying her upon it. He dabbed her dry, pulling more moans from her as he reached her chest and groin. He pulled the sheet over her and closed the door on the way out.

He felt terrible for releasing his frustration and rage in that way. He was far too rough on the woman and was mortified by his behavior.

John checked the dryer and his clothes were ready. He pulled the warm garments on. He needed more clothes. Walking back into the living room, he heard his phone chime. He rushed over and saw he'd received a text. He didn't recognize the number and was about to delete it when he noticed the message was simply the address to Anna's house and the word NOW.

John looked at the clock and saw it was only seven in the morning. He quickly wrote Carol a note explaining he was checking out a lead and would call her later. He wanted to apologize for being so rough with her, but it felt wrong not to do that in person. He pulled the door closed behind him and made his way to the street. He dipped into a donut shop and grabbed a half dozen bagels and a large coffee. He hailed a cabbie who looked like he'd just come off an all-nighter. He gave Anna's address, then sat back and devoured the warm bagels as the man drove him there.

Once they arrived, John paid the man, and he stepped out onto the front lawn. There was police tape up, and John was stunned to see the top half of the home was practically gone. He walked around the front of the house, feeling the quaint home's loss deep in his soul. There was where Anna would stand in the front window watching for him. There was where they would have tea and biscuits in the living room. He made his way around to the back, toward the kitchen where Anna made so many wonderful meals. The dining room where they shared Sunday dinners.

John saw the stairwell leading down to his apartment and stepped under the tape to descend the stairs to the basement. The police seal on the door had been torn, and the lock was broken. He pushed the door open with his elbow and peered into the dim interior. He took two steps inside and froze. His darkness shot outwards and caught the descending shadows that dropped on him from all sides. Cold claws scraped against his shield, and John recalled the spikes stabbed into Deron. This bastard hurt his friend and murdered Kelly! His rage burst forth, and he roared. He savagely slashed back but encountered only the shadow, not its source. Frustrated, John struck outwards with his shadow, stabbing into every dark corner, tossing burnt furniture aside, piercing the interior walls, trying to hit his attacker, all the while smashing back the shadows trying to get to him. Desperate, the enemy shadows turned to quick jabs against his darkness, attempting to consume its mass. John felt his entity's outrage at losing even the tiniest amounts of it. It returned the attack, ripping a strip of shadow from the enemy. John felt his darkness pause as it tasted its prize, and John had the oddest sense of déjà vu.

A scent came to him, the warm spice of cologne. John rocked back and staggered into the wall. His attacker stepped out from behind a wall and paused.

"Mr. Sass?" John croaked.

The man was standing before him. Impossibly real. He was a little younger, leaner, but it was definitely him. Something was flitting across his face. A struggle.

"How can you be here? You died?" John gasped.

"Yes, I did, didn't I? Except this bloody shadow keeps me moving. It's always hungry. Finish it so I can be at peace." John could hear the weariness in his voice though it was getting clearer.

"Wait, finish it? You mean kill it? What happens then? It might kill you!" John yelled.

"THAT'S THE POINT, BOY!" Michael boomed back. "Last night, I watched you through the window at the hospital. I saw you pull the claws from your boss and consume them. You have far better control over your demon than I do, so use it to kill mine. Let me die!"

"Don't ask me to kill you! I've missed you so much! I can't begin to tell you how important you are to me and... I don't even understand why you are. I only met you four years ago, yet you've become a compass for my life. You've been so good to me, and I never appreciated it. When you died, I finally saw how self-centered I'd been, and it tore me up inside that I hadn't told you how much I needed you. Now you're asking me to kill you?" John was outraged.

Mr. Sass was staring at John, and his mouth was moving, but there was no sound.

John reached inside himself and held the darkness. He felt it contemplating the piece it had taken from the enemy. It was familiar, more familiar than the splinters in the street kids had been. John sent it his understanding that both shadows came from Kate Darrows. He then asked the darkness to give the piece back to the other and some of itself so it would understand as well. His dark entity rebelled at the idea, but John held it close and assured it there would be time to regain it.

Turning outwards again, John saw his darkness reach out a tendril wrapped around the piece it had taken, and the other snatched it back and reabsorbed it. The end of the tendril broke off - not much, just enough to give the other a taste. The other approached the piece, grabbed it, and consumed it. It went still as the flavor struck home. It reached out, and both John and his darkness touched it. John immediately felt its fear and need.

"May I call you Michael since I now know that's your real name?" John asked.

The man twitched as John communed with his demon. He looked at John, then nodded.

"It's not a demon. It's just an entity, and yours is frightened. It's a fragment of what it was and has nothing to center itself on. It has no self, just like mine didn't. Mine was missing so much of itself. It needed me. I don't control it. I accepted it as part of me to give it stability and sanctuary," John explained. He held up his hands, and the shadow danced across his fingertips, then sank back into his hands.

Michael's eyes widened with John's display. He looked inside to his own darkness, and for the first time since he woke up in the morgue, he saw its fear. It was pressing back against his tight grip. He looked back at John. "How did you accept yours?"

John thought back to the day he'd discovered the entity within him. "I remember thinking about you. I was doing for it what you've always done for me. You never judged me, just accepted me for me. I pictured standing within the darkness' shadow and gently gathering it within me while I opened my heart to it. I dropped all barriers and just accepted it as an important part of me. It needed me, and I allowed it in."

"That isn't easy for me, John. I'm not proud of some of the stuff I've done. Letting anyone... or anything, in this case, see the evil in my heart is not an option," Michael said quietly.

"It won't judge, Michael. It's lost. Bring it home. Make it feel welcome. It just wants to feel safe just like you do." John reached out and took Michael's hands.

The man closed his eyes, and the darkness surrounding him began to slowly suck back inside of him. The smallest of smiles formed on his lips.

"Oh god! That is so much better! I feel it now. I'm sorry for how I treated it," the man sighed and seemed more present. Without the need to constantly guard against the invading sentience, he could be. "It's still hungry, though."

"Mine is hungry too. It wants to get back the mass it lost. That's certainly the impression mine gives me. I managed to feed it pieces of other shadows, and it's been satisfied with that," John explained.

"Where?" Michael asked quickly, with hunger in his voice.

"Seattle. Kate turned some street kids into shadows. My darkness ate the shadows but left the kids alive."

Michael dropped his eyes. "When I got out of the morgue, the... shadow entity was wild with hunger, and we... killed a pimp, and it fed on him. That fed me as well. It seems I live on a diet of life energy now. Before I could figure out what to do, the punk was dead. It was still hungry, but I was able to get some control. Now I see that was the wrong approach."

"It's not like you had any previous experience with this to guide you," John said softly.

Mr. Sass looked up at him with his trademark smirk. "Look who's all grown up!"

John smiled, then looked down as his cell rang. He picked it up and looked at the caller ID.

Melanie Singh!

He hit the answer button and practically yelled into the phone. "Melanie! Where are you? Are you all right?"

There was a deep chuckle on the other end of the line. Then a voice, deep and rich but trembling with suppressed violence. "Perfect, you almost sound like you care for the bitch."

"Who is this? What have you done with Melanie?" John growled.

"What I choose to do to her is for me to decide, don't you think? I mean, you're there... and we're here. There's really nothing you can do to stop me from doing ANYTHING I FUCKING PLEASE, is there?" the voice screamed into the phone.

John may not have been the best judge of people, but he was pretty sure this guy was riding the edge of madness.

"No, no, you're right. I'm powerless, and you have all the control. Please don't hurt her. She'd innocent--" John pleaded but was cut off by excessively loud laughter.

"Ahhh, that was funny! Oh, don't hurt her! She's so innocent! NOT FUCKING ANYMORE SHE ISN'T!" he screamed. "I showed her as much tender care as you showed my Katerina! But at least Ms. Singh is still alive..." the voice moved away, and John heard a high-pitched scream. "Yes, she's still alive. I had to check. She doesn't look too good, though."

"Please! Please don't hurt her anymore!" John cried into the phone.

"Well, that's going to depend on you, isn't it? Here's the tiny fragment of hope I'm willing to give you even though you don't deserve any consideration for your murderous ways. Are you... listening?" the voice asked.

"Yes!" John cried.

"I want you to join my little ceremony. You see, I picked up my little tablet after I snuffed out that FUCKING LESBIAN CUNT who thought she was smarter than me with her infantile hacker tricks! I guess she understands how incredibly stupid she was. But enough about her. The tablet, mmm! It's exactly what the doctor ordered! Truly a recipe for greatness, and I want you to be the main course! I'm willing to toss Melanie aside if you take her place."

"Of course, I'll take her place! Just tell me where you are!" John said. Michael started to say something, but John held up a hand to keep him quiet.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not just yet. I'll let you know where I am when I'm FUCKING READY!" the voice growled.

"I'm in Portland. Am I going to be able to get where you are when you need me to be?" John asked.

"John, John, John. I know exactly where you are, and I will give you exactly the amount of time you need to get where I want you to be. If you fail to arrive on time or you're not alone, Melanie will have a long life ahead of her filled with the most unimaginably painful days, and sweet Satomi will be my guest as well. And Deron's daughters looked especially delicious. Am I making myself perfectly clear, you insignificant scab?"

"Yes," John whispered.

"Delightful! I'll prepare for the ceremony and call when I want you. Be ready!" Click.

John looked down at the phone, his heart a heavy lump in his chest as he thought of how Melanie had suffered because of him.

"No! You can't go! I promised your mother I would protect you, not let you toss your life away on suicide!" Michael growled.

"What do you mean you promised my mother? That is the second time you said something like that--"

"FREEZE!"

John and Michael looked towards the door. Molina stood in the opening with his gun pointing at Michael Okorie, a man who should have been dead.

"WHAT. THE. FUCK!" the detective cried. His eyes were just a little wild. "Is this one of your S.A.S. tricks?"

"Hello, Detective Molina," Michael smiled.

"If I say, yes, he just faked his death to get away from the British secret service again, would you leave it at that? Trust me, that's the most satisfying answer you'll get," John asked hopefully.

"Nothing is that cut and dried around you, Doe!" Molina growled. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"

John looked at the detective. He couldn't think of any way to get away from the man, but Melanie and all of his friends were dead if he didn't. He was sure of it. Molina didn't have the skills to deal with something outside his fixed scope of reality. Maybe he could rush him and maybe get the gun without getting shot, and if he was shot, maybe he could heal enough. Too many maybes.

A movement distracted him. He saw his darkness sliding along the floor in the shadows creeping closer to the detective's feet. Smart little entity! He just needed to give it a little time and a distraction. In this case, the truth was very distracting.

"It was the guy who attacked Deron, killed Kelly, burned the store and this house, and has kidnapped and tortured Melanie. He also has the tablet, which I think he intends to use in some ancient blood... death... evil ceremony. He said he'd let Melanie go, then use my death in the ceremony if I go to him. He didn't say his name, but he did indicate that Kate Darrows was important to him. Maybe she was his wife. He blames me for her death. The man is certifiably insane!"

"You're not going to him," Molina said.

"Yes! Thank you," Michael agreed.

"But you can't deal with this guy," John said.

"What makes you so sure?" the detective said belligerently.

"Because you can't deal with... this." John's shadow shot up from Molina's feet to enclose him in a sheath of solid darkness, knocking his arms over his head. His wrists slammed into the door jamb, and the gun tumbled from his hand.

Michael leaped forward and caught the gun before it could land and accidentally shoot someone. He stood up and looked back at John with a wide smile. "Very impressive."

John pulled the detective into the room, and Michael closed the door behind him.

"Now, what are you going to do with him?" Michael asked.

John asked the darkness to show the detective's face. A section pulled aside, and the man began to gasp for air.

"Oh! Sorry, I thought you'd be able to breathe in there. My apologies!" John said contritely.

"Doe, what is this? What the fuck are you doing? Let me go!" the cop thrashed at his bindings.

"This is why you won't be able to stop the man who hurt my friends. He isn't just another bad guy. He's more. I saw what he did to Deron. I know what he is. Can you see this?" He formed a spike of the shadow substance, like he'd seen stabbed into Deron, and held it up for Molina.

"What? Your fingers?" the man said.

John blinked in frustration. "No! Geez, how do I explain this if you can't even see it? I'm holding a spike made of the same stuff you're tied up with, except it's hard like glass and, apparently, invisible to you. Three of these were jammed into Deron, and his life was bleeding away. I took them out, and now he'll live. The guy who put them in him is like me, only much more powerful. I could feel his power from the strength of the spikes I pulled out of Deron. I'm just learning how to work with my darkness. Hell, I just found out I had it what... a week ago? This guy, he may have decades or even centuries of experience. He said if I don't come, he'll fill Melanie's remaining days with torture. Then he'll take Satomi and Deron's daughters. We won't be able to protect them. That's why you can't deal with him."

The detective stopped struggling. John released him, absorbing the darkness within himself with a sense of gratitude. Michael made a sound of protest and held the gun on the detective. John held out his hand, and Michael scowled at him. He flipped the gun over and handed it to John, who just handed it back to the detective, who looked like he wanted to shoot them both.

"We're not bulletproof. Shoot us, and we die. We've proven that with Kate Darrows. But we're not the bad guys here. I have to go. I have to show up alone. That doesn't mean I don't want my friends at my back. I'm scared shitless! I'm not a fighter, but this monster has hurt and killed my friends and is threatening to kill more if I don't come when he calls."

"He calls and tells you where to go, and we send in the SWAT team. Surround the entire place. Bottle him in. They could go in quiet," Molina insisted.

"Michael, fade," John instructed while watching the detective.

One minute Okorie was standing next to them; the next, he was just a moving shadow, sliding along the wall like any other shadow.

"So the SWAT team goes in with their flashlights, and there are millions of shadows scattering everywhere. They're going to notice one moving towards the exit? Are you going to give the order to watch for moving shadows? You're a good detective, Molina. I'd hate to see you lose your badge over something like that," John said. "Before you ask, we're not going to do a demonstration for anyone else. Show's over." John's wolf took great comfort from that.

"That's right." Michael suddenly materialized beside Molina, who jumped in surprise.

When he recovered, he glowered at John. "What is your brilliant plan then?"

"Still working on it, but I don't know how much time I'll have. It's, what, eight now, and I'm assuming the fucking evil ceremony will need darkness, so we only have at most twelve hours. I need more information. This guy is supposed to be a genius-level hacker. Not as good as Kelly was, apparently. But he said he knows exactly where I was, which probably means he's tracking my cell location as he knows I can't turn it off. I need to know if that FBI friend of Kelly's got any information on him like a location before he killed Kelly."

Molina pulled out his notepad, flipped it open, and found a page. "Uh, she's been trying to reach me, but I put her off. Didn't need any interference from the Feds. I have her number. Agent Renée Bellerose." He began to search his pockets for this phone but then saw Michael dangling it in front of him with the battery removed.

"Can't risk the hacker tracking you to John. Use my phone. It's a burner," the ex-soldier said, handing him the phones. Molina scowled at Michael and dropped his phone in his pocket. He dialed the number using the burner.

"Hello, Agent Bellerose? This is Detective Molina of the Portland PD. Yes, sorry about not getting back to you earlier, but I just got a lead on the hacker Kelly Wilson was tracking for you. Yes. No, I'm not at the office. Do you know Rocky's Burger Joint? Can you meet me there in twenty minutes? What? No! Yes, this is legit! Just be there and swap out your phone for a burner. The hacker is tracking our locations by cell." He hung up with a blush.

John grinned. "She thought you were hitting on her?" At the terse nod he received, he stifled a chuckle. "Good idea about the restaurant, though. I'm famished."

Chapter 18

Rocky's was an ancient dive that used to have a lot more traffic before the neighborhood took a nose dive into poverty, drugs, prostitution, you name it. The owner was a violent nightmare if you came in looking for trouble or a gruff burger artiste if you were a paying customer. Cops frequented the place as the food was good and cheap, and sometimes they got a floor show when Rocky would bounce a drug-addled would-be thief from the building. That was always good for a laugh.

The restaurant was currently empty of customers except for the detective and Doe. Molina sat in a four-seat booth facing the door. He was silently cursing his luck to be involved in this case. This supernatural shit was a pain in the ass!

At his back in the next booth was Doe. Or what was once John Doe. He wasn't sure who or what the fuck he was now.

Somewhere outside, Michael Okorie was skulking around, looking for evidence of others like them. Shadow Hunters, he heard Doe call them. He'd told Okorie to look for shadow splinters in the street kids or homeless. Apparently, he could remove them without harming the human hosts. What the fuck. It was simpler when it was just cops, civs, and perps. Cops protecting civs from perps. Simple.

His food arrived. Rocky's waitress was as scary tough as the owner. There wasn't an inch of skin not covered with tattoos, right up to her neck. The only tattoos on her face were a couple of blue tears under her right eye. She'd done some hard time. He nodded to her as she placed the plate in front of him. She moved on to the next table with four burgers, and he heard Doe being all polite and the woman eating it up. How would she react to him if she knew he was carrying around some kind of monster inside. Fuck, she'd probably like him more.

The tiny bell at the door rang as a Fed entered. She didn't have to wave her badge around. It was written all over her finely tailored suit. She pulled off her shades and looked around. Molina lifted his hand from the table to signal her, and she moved to his booth and slid in across from him. Damn, she was a looker; light brown hair to her shoulders, light hazel eyes, fine features, and a nice physique. He pulled his mind back from that distraction.

"Detective Molina?" He nodded. "Agent Bellerose. You have some information for me?"

"Yeah, uh. Do you know the name John Doe?" he asked and felt immediately stupid for it. He picked up Doe's snort in the next booth and enjoyed hearing him choke on a mouthful of burger.

"Are you kidding me?" Bellerose asked, annoyed.

"I meant the John Doe who worked with Kelly Wilson," he hastily continued.

"She mentioned she worked with someone named John. His name really is John Doe?" she asked.

"Yeah, I know. An administrative nightmare, amongst other things. Anyway, Ms. Wilson was tracking a hacker you were also following?"

"That's right."

"Was she able to find any information on this guy, like an address perhaps?" he asked.

"It's an ongoing investigation. I can't give out that information. You know that." She was back to being annoyed.

"Were you aware that the hacker was actually targeting Mr. Doe?" he asked.

The Fed paused, and her eyes locked on his. "What do you mean? Kelly said he was attacking her business' servers," the agent confessed.

"As he was trying to get to Mr. Doe's e-mail. The only message we could retrieve was the one we believe the hacker was after. A message Mr. Doe supplied to us from his personal account. Our people are looking into it, but you probably have better resources. Can I forward the message to you?"

Anger flared in her lovely eyes. "Geezus, yes! Why didn't you send this to me immediately?" she handed him her card so he could have her e-mail address.

"Hey! It's not like we're sitting on our thumbs down at Portland PD," he growled as he sent her the e-mail. She used her phone to immediately forward it along to her techs as an urgent request.

"I have reason to believe the hacker was trying to delete all traces of that message as it may have accidentally linked back to him," he continued. "We think the original message was sent from Kate Darrows, who wasn't so careful with her digital trail, and we now believe was in a relationship with your hacker."

A frown appeared on her face. "Darrows... wasn't she the one who killed those people behind Kelly's book store?" Bellerose asked.

"Yeah, but she only killed one guy and badly injured the other, John Doe. She also died in the attack. Hence the violent retaliation from her... what? Boyfriend? Husband? Lover? The hacker. He killed Kelly. He assaulted Mr. Clarke. He torched the business and John Doe's home. And he's kidnapped and tortured Kelly's co-worker Melanie Singh, and we don't know how much longer she has to live. We need to know where he is," Molina reported.

Agent Bellerose frowned at the detective. "It's quite a leap from hacking to murder. Do you have any evidence it was the hacker?"

He sighed as he knew this part wouldn't be received well. "He contacted Mr. Doe this morning and confessed to him. I overheard the call. He informed Doe that he had Ms. Singh, and if he wanted her alive, he'd have to take her place. He's just waiting for the call. If we knew where he was, we could get there before he completes his preparations. Maybe even save the young woman."

"Send in the SWAT team, you mean."

Molina shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "How elusive has the hacker been? How long have you been hunting him? If you send in a big group, he'll vanish, and he'll kill again and again. You have no idea how good this guy can be at evading capture." The moment the words left his mouth, he saw the agent's eyes flare once more.

"Excuse me, I've been after this guy for years. I think I'm a better judge of how good he is at vanishing," Bellerose said with a raised voice.

"You've only been following his digital footprint. I've seen what his physical footprint can do. We won't catch him with a SWAT team," Molina muttered, having climbed out as far as he was willing to go on that branch.

"I'm sorry, I'm not about to jeopardize years of work on a third-hand confession. We've got evidence on him for espionage, theft, extortion, and a host of other crimes. Murder? Not yet." She looked above Molina's head as someone was peering over the top of the booth at her. "Sir, this is a private conversation. Sit down." She saw Molina rub his face in frustration.

"Actually, I'm part of the conversation. I'm John Doe."

Molina sighed. He'd done what he could. Now the freakshow would begin.

Renée's jaw dropped as she realized she'd been set up.

"What kind of amateur hour bullshit is this Molina?" she spat. She started to slide from the booth, but a black man was suddenly sitting next to her on the closed side of the booth where no one had been a second earlier. His hand was firmly latched on her arm. The shock of his sudden appearance was so intense she momentarily lost control, and her eyes flashed the palest blue.

She reached for her gun, but the new arrival already had it and slid it across the table to Molina. She looked at the discomfort on the detective's face as John joined him on the bench, bumping Molina into the corner.

She looked at John, unsettled by the intensity of his stare. Suddenly, his eyes flashed gold, and she almost lost control again. "You?" she gasped quietly.

"Yes. Me too," John said. His wolf was terribly excited. He scented her now that she'd been surprised into reacting, and she was carrying a wolf as well. From her behavior, she was far more stable than Sasha as well.

Molina looked between the two. "Do you know each other?" he said, surprised.

"No, we just have some... commonalities," John allowed. Molina grimaced.

Bellerose looked over at the man next to her, who looked questioningly at his hand holding her arm, and she nodded. He let go. "How did you do tha--" He vanished before her eyes.

The waitress showed up and smiled at John. "Are you joining this table?" she asked.

"Yes, put it all on my bill, please," he replied.

"Would you care for anything?" the waitress asked the agent.

"No. No, thank you," Bellerose replied, staring at the empty space on the seat, frightened to look away.

The waitress turned away, shaking her head at the agent's rude behavior.

Michael was suddenly in the seat again, and the agent yelped involuntarily.

John leaned across the table and spoke firmly. "The hacker can do that too and maybe a whole lot more. That's why you won't catch him with a big team. We need to know where he is before he calls, which could be soon."

Bellerose took a breath and tried to settle her nerves. "H-how many people are you taking in?" she asked quietly as she rolled over her options in her mind.

"So far? Myself, Michael Okorie beside you, and Detective Molina if he'll come. Much more than that, and we risk spooking him," John figured.

"I want in. I have an investment in this case, and Kelly was my friend," she said.

"As long as you understand, the odds of taking him alive are negligible, and I'm certainly not going to make any great attempt to try. I'm not much of a fighter. Surviving will be difficult enough. I need to get Melanie free, but if I get an opportunity to kill him, I will have to take it as he's threatened my other friends as well."

John glanced at Molina, whose face reddened, but he nodded. After a longer pause, Agent Bellerose nodded as well.

"Okay, do you know where--" John caught himself when his phone rang mid-sentence.

He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was Melanie's cell. He looked at Molina and Bellerose, then took the call.

"Hello?"

"How are the burgers at Rocky's?" a deep voice asked.

"Not bad for a last meal," John said quietly.

Loud gravelly laughter burst from the phone. "That's the right attitude, you pathetic little shit! Are you ready for some fun? I'll give you just enough time to get here if everything goes smoothly. Get here late, and, well, Melanie won't be wearing her skin anymore. You'd be amazed how long someone can remain alive in that condition though I'd hardly call it living."

"Please don't hurt her!" John begged.

"Ahhh, that's music to my ears, but you're wasting your precious little time. Step one: get to Seattle Airport by six. Quick now! Quick like a bunny! But don't forget to leave a tip. Leave a good impression for your eulogy." Then a click as he hung up.

John leaped to his feet and rushed over to pay the bill. The others were standing by the door when he returned to them.

"I'll go with Agent Bellerose. You two follow us to the Portland airport. I'm going to book some flights. I'll explain when we get there," John said and followed the agent to her car.

Molina scowled at Michael, who glared back as they rushed to the detective's car.

Chapter 19

John hustled out of the terminal and glanced at his phone. There was no signal during the flight, and he was having some trouble reconnecting now that he was back on the ground. The time read six-oh-three, and he was seriously sweating.

He prayed his hasty arrangements on the way to the Portland airport had worked out, and Molina and Michael hadn't killed each other.

His conversation with Bellerose had been brief but amazing. He'd traded his story for hers. She'd been a host for a wolf since a family vacation in France in her teens. It began at a family reunion. While staying at the family homestead high in the French Alps, one of her distant uncles got into a car accident just down the road from the chateau. She was the fastest runner in her family, so she was well ahead of the others and first on the scene. The desperate creature managed to bite her leg before her uncle's body expired. She had fallen unconscious across the wreckage and gashed her forehead and arm, so her family, arriving moments later, assumed the damage to her leg was just one of the injuries she sustained from tripping over the wreckage when she arrived. As she recovered in the hospital, she endured quite a bit of good-natured ribbing from her less athletic cousins, who she'd left in the dust.

By that point, her wolf had made its introductions and apologies. Always a bit awkward around other kids, Renée found an instant friend in the wolf. A secret friend.

She'd never met another wolf until John and had so many questions, but there was no time. They promised each other that they would make time to share if they survived.

He made it through the flight and security, but neither Molina nor Agent Bellerose were there to give him a gun he could use on the psycho who had Melanie. He couldn't wait!

His phone finally got a signal, and moments later, it rang.

"Tick Tock, Mr. Doe!" the voice taunted.

"I'm going as fast as I can. The cell network at the airport must be overloaded. It wouldn't connect me," he explained.

"Does it sound like I FUCKING CARE? You're getting very tedious. I wonder if I should just give up on you and enjoy Ms. Singh's oh-so-tender flesh." John heard another scream.

"PLEASE! PLEASE! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! PLEASE DON'T HURT HER!" John begged into the phone.

"Ahhhhhhhh, there's the salve to my wounded spirit. Your pathetic pleas are just what the doctor ordered," the deep voice giggled, which was more disturbing than his rants. "Okay, you need to listen carefully to these next instructions because I'm only saying it once. Jump into a cab and get them to tra-- so--....twenty min--... Issaq." The line went dead.

John stared in horror at his phone and almost dropped it when it rang again. "I couldn't hear--" he began desperately, but loud, grating laughter drowned him out.

"Your fear is delicious! Take a cab on ninety east to Issaquah and exit at Front Street North. Get the driver to drop you at the northwest corner of Front and Gilman. Leave your cell in the cab. You won't need it anymore but leave it on. On the northwest traffic island is a darling garden. Tucked under a bush is a green plastic bag with a cell in it. You'll know you found the bag when you open it. I'll call you on that cell in exactly forty minutes. I think you know what will happen if you don't answer. Off you go now! Quick!" The line went dead.

John rushed over to the cabs and found one willing to take him to Issaquah. He pulled Michael's burner cell out of his pocket and sent a quick text with the next location and time. He indicated his cell was going offline at that point. He got no response, so he stared out the window and felt his stomach tense. The timing was crucial, but the psycho was adding new elements. He might be under direct observation by Issaquah. He didn't know.

Michael's phone buzzed. He saw "Ten to fifteen min out." God dammit! They were late. Shit!

When the cab pulled off the highway, he directed it to the intersection, and the cabbie pulled over into a gas station where John paid him. Not knowing what else to do, he gave the cabbie money to deliver his phone to Jerry in Seattle and gave him his number.

As the cab drove away, John ran to the small traffic island, and in the waning twilight, he got on his hands and knees by the garden and looked for the bag. He heard a chirping sound behind him and saw a slight glow under a bush. He grabbed the bag and unrolled it. He turned the bag over in his hand, and the phone slid out with a rubber band attaching something to its back. It felt cold and clammy, so he flipped it over.

It took everything he had not to drop the child's severed hand. He didn't have time to remove it as the phone was on its sixth ring, so he pressed the answer button and held the gory thing to his ear.

"You sick fucker," John's voice came out as a croak.

Hysterical laughter blasted from the phone. It went on for some time. John loosened the rubber band and dropped the small pale hand back into the plastic bag while the laughter exhausted.

"That was truly lovely! But time is of the essence, and you still have a long way to go, John. On the far side of the intersection is a small grove of trees. There is a bicycle in the tall grass chained to a tree. The combination to the lock is six-six-six, as it just felt appropriate. Get on the bike and ride south on Front Street. Keep an eye on the little odometer as you only want to go exactly eight-point-three miles. There will be a road on the left called Tiger Mountain Road SE. Take that road two more miles, and on your right will be a gate and a buzzer. Drop the bike in the ditch. Ring the buzzer, and I will let you in. Run all the way up the driveway to the house and ring the bell. Then the real games can begin. You have twenty-five minutes starting... NOW." The phone went dead.

John hustled across the road to get to the southeast corner. A quick check in the tall grass next to the trees uncovered the bike. The gloom of dusk was so deep he had to use the light from Michael's phone to see the combination to open the lock. He hammered out the next instructions in a text and looked at the bike. It was an old beater mountain bike with no brakes and no seat. But the seat post stuck upwards and had been sharpened.

Sick fucker indeed.

John found a chunk of asphalt and hammered the seatpost backward so it wouldn't gore him. He'd lost precious minutes, so he jumped on the bike and started pedaling. As he feared, the gearing was stuck on a higher gear, so the effort to turn the pedals was brutal. At least the wheels rolled without a wobble. He was able to build up a good speed, and he ensured the odometer was ticking away the distance. John's legs were burning badly by the fifth mile, and they felt like lead by the eighth. By this point, he was well out of town, and the odometer was very difficult to read in the dark.

Finally, he saw the road he was to turn onto. He crossed the lane and discovered the next challenge was a steep uphill grade. His legs complained, but he pushed on. After a terrible climb, it leveled off, and he saw a tall fence across the ditch on his right and followed it until he saw a wide gate. The odometer reading seemed to match, so he rolled the bike into the ditch and staggered up to the entrance.

Breathing like a bellows be pushed the buzzer and waited.

"Hello?" a familiar voice asked innocently.

"I'm here," he gasped.

"And you are?" the voice toyed with him.

John's nerves were stretched thin. "You know damn well who this is!" he blurted, then immediately panicked.

"Oh, I don't think I like that attitude. I wouldn't welcome any visitor in who acted like that. I think I'll conclude my business here and visit some friends," the voice said with a miffed tone.

"No! Please! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, please," he begged.

"I don't know... look at the camera and show me how sorry you are," the voice purred.

John looked around and saw a camera up on the fence post. He put his hands together in a prayer gesture. "On the ground on your face like the pathetic worm you are!" the voice shouted.

His legs protesting all the way, John got down on his stomach and put his hands together again while he was lying face down. He was getting really tired of playing to this guy's ego, but he had to give his backup time to arrive... if they were coming at all.

"That's better! I'd have you crawl the rest of the way, but I don't have all night. Get up and run to the house." The intercom clicked off, and the gate began to open.

John forced himself back to his feet and struggled to run up the driveway. He wasn't moving very fast, but it was the best he could do. He felt the cell in his pocket vibrate with an incoming text, but he couldn't risk looking at it now. Cameras lined the driveway. He knew he was under surveillance now. He desperately wanted to know if the message was telling him they were right behind him or if they were asking him where he was. He pictured them in his mind, standing back at the intersection, wondering which way he'd gone. Maybe they didn't get his last text. Doubts raced through his mind as he hobbled the last few feet.

The mansion was huge. He could see it completely now that he was beyond the grove of trees concealing it from the road. It matched nothing else in the neighborhood. It looked much older than the neighboring houses as well. Maybe it had been the first in the area. It reminded John of a plantation house with huge columns and upper and lower decks. None of the lights were on except the one by the big front door. He climbed the steps and looked each way on the massive porch. He expected to see chairs, maybe even a swing, but it was barren, as though no one ever spent any time out here enjoying the view and late afternoon sun.

John reached forward and pressed the doorbell. He heard nothing inside the house, but the front doors popped open.

"Come into my parlor," the voice echoed in the vast foyer. John stepped in and immediately walked into the large room to the right of the door calling out Melanie's name loudly.

"What... where are you going?" the voice said angrily.

John looked around for the camera he knew had to be watching him. "You said to go into the parlor...."

"It's a poem, you idiot! The Spider and the Fly? Fuck, humans of this generation are illiterate fools!" the voice growled.

John hid his grin. He hadn't been able to suppress the urge to poke a hole in the pompous monster's little game. Besides, the distraction allowed him to leave the front door unlatched. He walked back into the foyer and immediately headed for the long curving stairs heading up to the second floor, still calling out Melanie's name.

"STOP! SHUT the FUCK UP and LISTEN for the FUCKING instructions!" the voice boomed into the room. "Go into the lower hallway and enter the door panel I'm opening now."

John stepped off the staircase and walked down the hall and a hidden door opened in the paneled wall. He frowned as there was no way he would have noticed it, and if his backup ever arrived, they wouldn't either. He was going to have to take a chance.

He stepped up to the edge of the door and looked inside. The lighting was extremely dim, but after about six feet, the floor dropped away, becoming a staircase that seemed to go down for quite a distance, deep underground. John showed the wolf what he intended to do and asked for its help. He got an amused feeling back. The wolf also seemed pissed and wanted some revenge on the monster. He had confidence in John, which warmed him more than he expected.

As John stepped into the small enclosed space, he quickly bent down and placed Michael's phone in the doorway to block it from closing. If the light was as dim for the camera as it was for him, maybe his watcher wouldn't see it. Now for the distraction.

Letting the wolf guide his feet, John ran down the dimly lit stairs bellowing Melanie's name like a crazed man.

"DON'T RUN ON THE FUCKING STAIRS! It will do her no good if you trip and die, and it would piss me off enough to hunt down and kill every last person you've ever known," the voice ranted. The stairs went on and on and turned at odd angles every now and then. John continued to rush downward, and the voice continued to yell at him until he burst out into a vast underground chamber.

John's breath came in deep gulps, and his legs burned fiercely from the effort of jumping down the stairs. His wolf was thrilled with the run.

The ceiling was natural rock and arched up into the darkness. A natural cave then, and a big one. Dangling from a pitch dark ceiling were two rows of light fixtures which shone reddish cones of light downwards to make a corridor of light. The ground was covered with a thin layer of sand over the pale stone, and the path went at least one-hundred-and-fifty yards before it reached a brightly lit raised dais. Sitting on what could only be called a throne was a man. A very angry man.

The cavern must have been set up with speakers connected to the intercom as the man's rants boomed and echoed discordantly. John set off down between the strips of light towards the dais at a slow jog, all his tired legs would give him. Three yards from the raised seat, he dropped to his knees and hung his head forward as he caught his breath.

The man finally stopped yelling as John knelt before him. He sat on his throne, breathing hard and glaring down at John. He seemed to appreciate the submissive posture John presented. He was still very angry, but now that his victim was present, he'd be able to quench his desire for John's death very soon.

"At last, we meet! Face to face. You are a difficult man to find, John. That ridiculous name of yours forced me to take steps Ms. Singh did not enjoy one bit, but you made necessary," he taunted. "Ah, but I'm being rude. I've always believed one should know the name of one's demise. Allow me to introduce myself... LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU, BOY!"

John lifted his head slowly, feigning exhaustion, his breathing almost back to normal. He looked up at the man seated on the throne. Distinguished silver hair with white patches at his temples. His face was long, and his jaw was square. Piercing blue eyes, a sharp blade of a nose, and thin, cruel lips curled into a superior sneer. John's wolf wanted to bite that look right off. He begged it for patience. He needed more time.

The man had broad shoulders but a narrow waist and slim legs. John couldn't tell how tall he was while seated, but he guessed he would be slightly more than six feet. He was dressed in a black silk shirt, slacks, and leather shoes. John wished he had come dressed completely in white just to complete the picture. As it was, his white shirt was stained with sweat, grass stains, blood, and who knows what else, and his grey slacks had bicycle chain ring tattoos on the right leg.

"You have the honor of meeting Kenneth Prescott. The name probably means nothing to you, as it shouldn't. I've spent a great deal of effort to remain in the shadows throughout my exceptionally long and prosperous life, and you and that cunt Kelly almost derailed all of my efforts."

John sat back on his heels. "I don't understand. What did I do to you?"

Kenneth's face froze, and John could see his jaw clenching. "What did you do?" the man forced out between his teeth. "Have you possibly forgotten how you MURDERED MY KATERINA?" he screamed, spittle flying from his lips.

"She attacked me, and I didn't kill her!" John yelled back.

Kenneth's eyes went black and cold. His voice became quiet and clipped. "You say you had nothing to do with her death? You say she just suddenly abandoned fifteen CENTURIES of discretion and controlled behavior and attacked you like an irrational animal? Like a human?"

"She lured me into the stockroom--" John began.

"To get the tablet!" Kenneth finished.

"...and she said I smelled good. She said she was acting impulsively, but she couldn't help it. She needed to taste me. When I pushed her away, she lost her shit and threw me across the room like I weighed nothing. I tried getting away, but she threw me into the alley, and I was busted up. She followed and attacked a friend of mine in the alley who pulled a gun and killed her. He died of his wounds."

Kenneth surged to his feet but stopped at the top step. "You lie!"

"There's video proof!" John yelled back. "The stockroom camera was running. The police have the footage. I swear I'm not making this up. If you hadn't tried hacking in, Kelly wouldn't have had to defend us and trace you."

Kenneth's face went still again, and the cold was back. "So, it was all a misunderstanding? I've done you a grave injustice. I did promise you that if you came to me, I would set Ms. Singh free, didn't I? That would be the least I could do to compensate you for this." He turned his head to look behind the throne.

John got a seriously bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Dear? Come out here, please. You have a friend who'd like to see you. You don't want me to come back there and get you, do you?" Kenneth said in a clear, calm voice.

John's unease grew as he heard whimpers from behind the throne. Then shuffling feet as a hunched figure lurched into view.

"That's it, dear. Pick up the pace, please. We don't have all night," Kenneth's smooth voice said.

Melanie came into view, and John gasped. There wasn't a surface that wasn't covered with bruises, scratches, blood, scabs, or dirt. She had obviously lost control of her bowels during her beating, which also clung to her. She tried covering her breasts with an arm, but the swollen elbow wouldn't bend that high, so she only hid one. The other breast was badly chewed. She had undoubtedly been raped. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and her wonderful lips were swollen and split. Through her good eye, she gazed at John, and tears flowed, but she made no sounds other than choked sobs.

John's heart went out to her, and he felt drawn to her, but it wasn't safe to move yet.

"Melanie, you are free to go. John has promised to stay in your place, but you have to go. It's been fun!" Kenneth gestured for her to descend from the dais.

Melanie shuffled forward in obvious pain and watched Kenneth the entire way to the top step when she looked at John. As she took her first step down, Kenneth surged forward and pushed her shoulders with a mighty shove. She crashed like a rag doll down the short flight of stairs to land in a broken lump at the bottom.

John screamed her name and tried to rush to her side, but Kenneth leaped from the top step and came crashing down on top of him. He was knocked onto his back with Kenneth kneeling over him, the man's hands wrapped around his throat.

"YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO BLAME ME FOR THIS?" Kenneth screamed in his face. John couldn't breathe, so he let his mind slip inside to speak with the wolf and the darkness. He showed the dark entity what he wanted it to do and asked the wolf to assist as it could. He resurfaced to see Kenneth's confused expression.

"What... what is that scent?" the man murmured into John's face as he inhaled deeply.

John tried to say something, and a distracted Kenneth lightened up on his grip.

Clearing his throat, John was able to speak. "Hungry? Me too!" he croaked, and his darkness erupted from his chest directly into Kenneth's. John threw all of his will behind the attack, and the wolf pushed as well. The shadow dug deeply into the man's torso, and John felt it ripping, tearing, and consuming Kenneth's darkness as quickly as it could. Kenneth thrashed in agony and tried to escape, but John tenaciously clung to his wrists. When John's darkness weakened from the effort of tearing the dense mass from Kenneth, the man finally managed to tug himself away to roll a distance from John. He screamed as he clutched at his chest.

"Now!" John summoned his wolf. Its moment had come as he ripped off his pants. John released his control over his body. The wolf's energy shot forth from his core to reach the outer edge, and he transformed. Maybe it was because it was only his second time, or perhaps it was because of the dangerous haste, but John's mind was battered by agony. Still, the wolf was there ten seconds after Kenneth pulled free. It growled deep in its throat and leaped at the prone man.

With superhuman speed, Kenneth wrenched away and tried to leap into the shadows above. His foot slipped on the sand, and the wolf took advantage, sinking its teeth into his trailing leg, dragging him back down to the cavern floor. The jaws clenched, and bone snapped. Kenneth screamed again, twisted, and flung his damaged darkness at the wolf, but it was already moving and lunging.

Kenneth barely got his arm up to protect his neck when the wolf's jaws snapped down, splintering his bones.

As Kenneth screamed once more, he slammed his other hand against the wolf's broad chest, launching a spike of darkness straight through the beast.

The wolf cried out and thrashed away from Kenneth, but the spike remained lodged in its body. As the wolf started to weaken, John surged up, and the wolf released his control in their desperate tag team.

The switch back was twice as painful, and John dragged his lethargic darkness along to consume the spike. Agony ripped through his torso as the invader broke free and John's body bent and twisted back into his human form. He lay panting naked on the ground as his muscles protested the efforts they'd been forced to do today. Shaky, he pushed himself to his knees and looked over at Kenneth, who was sitting up with a giddy grin on his face.

John watched as the protruding bones in the man's arm sank back into the flesh, and the wound closed. Kenneth hissed and jolted as the bones knit, but his joy was evident.

"Did I mention you missed the party by one night?" Kenneth gloated. "Oh yes, I had my little ceremony last night, followed the rituals described on the tablets, and voila! It seems to have worked quite nicely. I suppose I should thank you for helping me confirm it worked. I was rather hesitant to cause myself bodily harm. You get a little sensitive to putting yourself in harm's way once you've been around for fifteen centuries." He hissed especially loud as his tibia ground back together, but afterward, his wicked grin sent a chill down John's spine.

"You're full of surprises, John! A Sedu! I haven't seen one of those beasts in centuries. I thought they'd died out. And I'm not sure how you got a Shedimna, but it's taken something from me, John. I'm going to get it back." At John's uncomprehending look, the madman continued. "A Shedimna is an abomination... a blank. A soulless Shedim, a shadow hunter, that which hunts but has no spirit," he sneered.

Then his face went white. "Katerina," he whispered in shock, but his face quickly reddened with rage. "YOU TOOK MY BELOVED AND TURNED HER INTO A BLANK?" he bellowed.

Kenneth reached out with a huge hand composed of his Shedim and grabbed John. The cold bit into his naked flesh, and he hissed in agony. The pressure mounted as Kenneth reeled him in close, and John began to see spots in front of his eyes.

"I'm going to peel you like an onion John. I'm going to do it slowly, so I get to enjoy every morsel of your pain and despair." He slammed John against the ground and then picked him up again. John's head rocked back, and he spat blood in Kenneth's eye. Enraged, the man threw John against the steps of the dais.

John felt something pop in his back then he slid down the stairs to land next to Melanie.

"You're going to pay for that, John! You're going to pay for killing my Katerina!" Kenneth growled.

A bullet tore through his chest, and he spun around.

"Hey, asshole, I killed that skinny bitch, so maybe you'd like to talk to me?" Mr. Sass said and put two more slugs through Kenneth before the man roared and shot forward in a streak of black. Michael flew to the left and vanished into the shadows. Kenneth followed.

John felt a tingle on his spine, and sensation below his waist returned along with all the pain. He turned his head and saw Melanie was looking at him with her open eye. She blinked slowly, so he knew she was still alive.

"I'm so sorry, Melanie. This should never have happened to you!" he whispered. Tortuously, he pushed himself to a seated position next to her and reached out to brush her hair back from her eye.

It wasn't right. He should have protected her. He should protect her. It was something he was born to do. That felt... right. He gently reached down and collected her up against his chest. Then he reached for strength deep within himself. He felt the wolf watching him descend deeper than he'd gone before. The darkness, bloated with its stolen mass and lethargic with the effort to digest it, watched him sink deeper still. He reached into his very core and felt a warmth and light contained in his very center. He called upon it, asking for its help, not for himself but for the woman clutched against his chest.

It answered.

-=-

Michael was running out of dirty tricks. He was badly overmatched by Kenneth, but Michael sprung another surprise each time the man got a grip on him. The ground was littered with the debris of their battle; knives, spent magazines, shell casings, a wire garrotte, empty guns, and a broken bottle that contained acid. Kenneth's face was still recovering from that. Michael was getting desperate. He'd hit him with every lethal weapon he had, but his body just regenerated, again and again.

Michael saw Kenneth was protecting his chest and suspected John had sprung a snatch and grab with his own darkness to rip some mass from Kenneth's, but the madman had centuries of growth to build his density. He had energy to spare. Michael looked away.

That moment of distraction was all Kenneth needed, and he was on Michael. They tumbled together across the floor, a short distance from John, who was on his knees clutching Melanie to his chest. Michael grabbed a knife from the floor as they rolled, jammed it between Kenneth's ribs, and twisted it. As Kenneth slapped the knife and hand away, Michael sent his own darkness stabbing upwards at the now exposed chest. He ripped and tore at the shredded surface of Kenneth's darkness absorbing the chunks as quickly as he could. Kenneth roared in agony and repeatedly slammed Michael against the floor until Michael's chest collapsed.

Kenneth dripped blood from his lips onto Michael's face even as his knife wound sealed up and his punctured lung re-inflated. He grinned in victory as the man under his hands rolled his head up and to the right to look at John.

"That's my boy," he whispered proudly as tears spilled from his eyes.

Kenneth looked over just as there was a brilliant flash of white. He blinked away the afterimage and saw two huge wings of white light flowing out of John's back. The wings curled in and surrounded the man and woman completely.

"A Seraph? No... they're extinct. There are no more!" he whispered in wonder and fear, his darkness pulling back from the proximity to the white light.

Steeling himself for his last play, Michael jammed his right hand deep down the front of Kenneth's pants.

Kenneth yanked the arm up, dislocating the shoulder. Michael just chuckled. "Hold that for me, will ya?"

Kenneth's eyes widened as he suddenly felt something cold and metallic jammed in his pant leg next to his balls. He frantically rolled away onto his back to get his own hands down into his pants.

The mini-grenade ignited, shredding Kenneth's legs, the lower half of his right arm, and left hand. The blast wave tossed Michael's body off the side of a pillar to spin off into the darkness. It was only a mild ripple over the surface of the white glow.

Inside the cocoon of white light, John gently passed wave after wave of his light over Melanie's body. Bones knit, swollen tissues healed, swelling dissipated, hair and scalp regrew, bruises faded, torn ligaments, muscles, and tissues grew back together. Her splintered nails reformed and scar tissue dissolved with new growth. Melanie's skin smoothed out and shone with an inner glow. John purified her inside and out of all contaminates with one final pass, including Kenneth's attempts to impregnate her. He returned her to a state as close to physical perfection as her body could be.

He had no distinct awareness of how he was doing this. His consciousness of the... wrongness was vastly heightened, perhaps at the molecular level. It very much felt like the first time he gave himself over to the wolf's perceptions. The expansion of his ability to absorb the previously invisible information all around him exploded almost beyond comprehension. But it wasn't his intellect that processed the new input. He felt it. Fixing the wrong done to Melanie was more the perception of broken patterns needing to be reordered, a rebalancing of that which didn't belong to return balance, and a deep cleansing until every cell in her body was humming in beautiful harmony. Doing this brought him the most profound joy and a feeling of contentment like he'd never experienced before. This was... right.

His attention shifted once he felt her physical patterns reach their optimal states. Now came the more delicate work. He looked into her mind and saw her spirit was badly twisted in pain. He followed the pain gently into her memories to the terrible moment she met Kenneth. John plucked those images and those that followed, allowing this corner of her mind to become available for future, hopefully happy memories. When he was done, he pulled back and saw her spirit was settled except for one remaining pain. He dipped back inside one more time and traced the pain back to its source. He saw the hallway outside Melanie's office with her pressed against his chest. He knew where the pain came from. Though it hurt him deeply to do it, he gently removed the memory of their kiss. As he pulled away, Melanie's mind was serene and healthy. He gently kissed her cheek and willed her to sleep deeply.

John eased the wings open and felt them ripple back but remain stretched out. It felt good and right, but he was exhausted. Every cell in his being felt depleted, and he wanted to sleep for a decade at least. But Melanie wasn't safe yet. He looked around and saw no sign of Michael, but Kenneth was propped up against a pillar next to the dais, his dismembered limbs a short distance away.

He gently rested Melanie on the sand and pushed to his feet. He staggered over to Kenneth, who peered at him with a crazed look in his eye. The pain of rebuilding both legs and arms must have been overwhelming.

"You've wasted your energy healing the bitch. Now that she's back, I'll just do it all over again once I'm restored," Kenneth warned.

"No... no, you won't," John said with weariness.

"Do you even know what you are?" Kenneth laughed. "You're a fucking Seraph! You have to protect the sheep, I mean, the humans! You're driven to do it! It's what your kind do, or did, for as long as Seraphim have been around, which is as long as the Shedim, the dark spirits, and Sedu, the protective spirits."

"Thanks for the history lesson, but your time is done," John said, taking another step forward.

Kenneth was giggling now through the agony of his knitting flesh and bones. "DO you- haven't you guessed... where my healing comes from?" He grinned up at John. "The tablet was very specific about the need to have your enemies captured as slaves. Humanity has always been my enemy. Taking these sheep captive is simple. I've been doing it for centuries. The ritual connected me to my slaves intimately. Their life force for my health."

Kenneth's right arm was still rebuilding, but his left was almost complete. The outer two fingers were still re-growing. He used that hand to pull out a phone and clumsily punched in a code. One by one, rows of lights came on from the far corners of the vast chamber. Exposing the horror. Cages of humans. Hundreds and hundreds of them.

John dropped to his knees as the scope of Kenneth's evil struck home.

The regenerating man giggled in glee at John's distress. "Are you going to try to heal them all, John? I doubt you could. If you try to hurt me, you just kill them. Delightful conundrum, yes?" he said, grinning maniacally.

John looked to his wolf. The beast walked up to him, and he smelled the damp decay of a forest floor, fallen trees, and mushrooms. Then a cool spring breeze and new growth. It was a simple equation for the wolf. He reached out and touched the protective spirit as Kenneth called him. It was appropriate. John looked to his own Shedimna and called for its help. He showed them what needed to be done, and the darkness shrank back. It was afraid. He reached for it, held it close, and assured it.

When John resurfaced, Kenneth's expression was not as cocky as it had been. Perhaps because John's face was calm and at peace.

"Your simple mind does understand that as a Seraph, you can't kill them, and you can't kill me without killing them," Kenneth said belligerently, looking anxiously down at his rebuilding legs which were approaching the knees. His right arm was past the elbow, and his left hand was complete.

"My... protective spirit has reminded me of something you've forgotten. Dying is a natural part of living. Besides, I'm not going to kill you." He struggled to his feet before the man and took several steps back.

Kenneth giggled anxiously. "What? You're going to heal me?"

"Just the bad parts."

John's wings stretched out and solidified. He held his arms out, and they sunk into the light. He flexed his hand and made fists, and the ends of the wings followed suit.

Kenneth's eyes widened, and he threw up a shield of darkness as the huge white fists crashed down on him. The energy wall immediately began to dissolve, and he screamed with the effort to keep it in place. The white light ate into the darkness.

John steadily increased the pressure on Kenneth's shield. He had to get the white light into the man's body to cleanse the darkness from within him. The effort was incredible, and Kenneth was still very powerful. John pleaded with his dark entity to help, but it was so frightened of the light. The wolf got frustrated with the darkness and left John's side to communicate with its co-inhabitant.

Kenneth felt a drop in the pressure and began to giggle again as he knew John's strength had reached its end. Soon he would feel the man's death between his regrown hands.

The wolf nipped at the heels of the dark entity until they rejoined John, whose strength was flagging. They supported him from both sides and added their will to the fight. They leaned in.

Kenneth was preparing a spear to stab John when his shield suddenly evaporated. The white light slammed into his body and poured inside like a relentless tsunami. He screamed as it scoured the darkness from his core and flooded outwards to his extremities, washing him clean of its spoor. His mind filled with white light, blanking areas of his memory that once contained arcane knowledge, including the tablet ritual. He felt holes in his memory and slipped into unconsciousness, wondering what he'd lost.

Chapter 20

Kenneth Prescott woke up screaming. His legs and right arm were on fire from their exposed and damaged nerve endings. The ends of his stumps looked horribly burned but had healed sufficiently to stop the bleeding. The nerves, however... FUCK! The nerves were raw! He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ride out the pain, but it wouldn't lessen. Desperately he opened his eyes and looked around for something to ease his suffering. He was lying on the ground in the cave, which was deathly silent.

He spotted John lying on his chest a few yards away, unconscious. Uncontrolled rage burst from him, and he began to scream obscenities at the man. He'd ruined everything! He reached inside for his Shedim, willing it to drain the life of the fallen man.

Nothing was there. His Shedim was gone!

Then came the brutal and terrifying realization that for the first time in over fifteen hundred years, he was one of the sheep! A crippled one at that!

Kenneth saw a gun in the sand a few feet away and dragged himself with his barely functioning left arm over to the weapon. He had to stop and scream in agony a few times, but he made it. He grabbed the gun clumsily and pointed it at John's head. He steadied himself, then pulled the trigger. It clicked. He squeezed several more times, but the gun was empty.

In his rage, he threw the gun but missed. He saw a knife a little further away, and an evil gleam filled his eyes. He painfully dragged himself over to it and then began the torturous process of getting back to John. Spittle flew from his lips as he screamed from the agony of dragging his raw stumps across the hard surface.

Finally, he was within striking range. He got a good grip and lifted the knife high. He stabbed down once and hit bone. The blade didn't penetrate. With tears of frustration and madness in his eyes, he raised his hand high one more time.

It exploded in a red mist. The high-powered rifle bullet took it clean off his wrist.

He stared in disbelief at the stump of his left hand as strangers rushed into his cellar and grabbed him. He was picked up by three burly police officers and carried outside to an ambulance. They tied off his wrist to prevent further bleeding, then he was sedated and left strapped to the gurney, helpless.

Molina looked at Bellerose with new respect. "Hell of a shot! I would have gone for a body shot myself. Less chance of missing."

She smiled at the detective and flipped the rifle's safety back on. "I never miss." He rolled his eyes.

They hustled over to John and saw a fading light on his back as the stab wound resealed. They glanced at each other, and Molina's look turned sour. He took off his jacket, put it over Melanie's naked form, and checked her breathing. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He shook his head and called for ambulances for John and Melanie while Renée walked a little further on.

"Molina!" Bellerose cried in horror. He turned around and hustled over to her side to look over the series of cages that went on and on. They could see people in the pens, some dead, some living, possibly hundreds of them.

"Oh my god. We're going to need more ambulances."

Chapter 21

The steady beeping didn't bother John. He knew it meant life, and he thought that was a delightful thing. He opened his eyes in the dim light of his hospital room and saw someone at the end of his bed reading his chart.

"Hi, Mr. Sass," he croaked.

The man walked over and poured him a glass of water with a bendy straw. He smiled down at his friend as he took a drink. "I wondered how long it would take you to wake up this time."

John swallowed the cool water with relief. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Six days this time," came the reply.

"Ah. I thought I was getting better at it," he grinned.

"I'm glad you made it," Michael said.

"I'm glad you stuck around as well. You still have to explain what you said about my Mom," John said.

Michael smiled. "Looks like we'll have time to talk about that, after all."

John nodded then his thoughts returned to the deadly battle in the cavern. "Prescott said some things that lead me to believe he knew what I am. He called me a Seraph, which I believe is supposed to mean Angel." He looked at his friend. "I'm no angel. But you saw them, right?"

"Yes, I saw your wings," Michael said.

"People would see those and make assumptions. Superstitious assumptions," he continued.

"Yes, I supposed they would," Michael agreed.

"He said I had a Shedimna, which is an incomplete Shedim, a dark spirit. I guess yours is a Shedimna, too, as we got them when Kate Darrows died. He also said I had a Sedu, a protective spirit, my wolf. He had knowledge of these things. I need--we need that knowledge. It's out there. He might have had help." John hoped Michael understood his request.

Michael looked thoughtful. "I guess I could put out a few feelers, stick around to see how it all pans out." John smiled and relaxed a little.

"Hey, how is Melanie?" he asked, changing the subject.

Michael pursed his lips in thought. "Physically fine, but she hasn't woken up yet. She's in the next room. The doctors are stumped. Any ideas?"

"Damn! After I healed her, I told her to sleep. I bet she's just waiting to be told it's safe to wake up," John groaned.

"Like Sleeping Beauty," Michael smiled.

John yawned enormously. "Yup."

"Get some rest yourself and wake her in the morning," Michael suggested. "You'll have a very busy day when they see you're awake."

"Thank you, Mr. Sass."

The man grinned and vanished into the shadows. John chuckled. "You like that too much!" he called out.

The next morning John woke to the sound of humming. His nurse had come into the room to give him a sponge bath. He cracked an eyelid and looked at her. She was young with sandy blond hair tied back in a ponytail. John wasn't sure what tune she was humming, but she smiled, making her whole face light up. She began with his face and neck, and John struggled to not react. She moved to his arms, then exposed his chest and stomach.

That's when she paused.

"Ooo, you have a lovely body, Mr. Doe," she sighed quietly.

John barely managed to contain his snort of amusement.

Her hands went back to their professional precision as she washed his chest and moved down over his stomach, but he saw she was appreciating his muscles with her eyes.

It was becoming too difficult to remain quiet, so John let the wolf rumble a little growl deep in his belly.

"EEEP!" she squeaked, and John smiled as his eyes opened.

"Mr. Doe! You were awake?" She shook her finger at him and gave him a scowl. "I'll let the doctor know."

As she left, John noticed she was smiling.

Moments later, a tall, skinny, older doctor walked in, followed by the nurse. John's eyes were drawn to the man's obvious dye job. Fighting off the aging process. The man picked up the chart and gave it a quick review.

"Mr. Doe, good morning. I'm Dr. Jacobs. You've been with us for almost a week. It's good to see you're awake. We've run tests, and it seems you are quite healthy. I don't see anything that requires further attention, so I think it's time we discharged you."

"Would it be okay for me to visit my friend Melanie next door first? I think it's time she woke up," he said.

"How did you know she was next door and wouldn't wake up?" the young nurse asked with wide eyes.

"We're psychically connected," John said with a straight face and watched the woman's eyes widen further in awe. He grinned. "I must have overheard someone mention it. Seriously though, I can wake her."

"Nurse, get Mr. Doe a wheelchair," the doctor said with a scowl.

When she returned from the hall with the wheelchair, she helped John off the bed and into the chair. John was surprised at how weak he felt. He glanced at the doctor, but the man just stood there with his arms folded. Big help.

The nurse pushed him over to Melanie's room and up to the bed as the doctor followed. John pulled himself to his feet with the bed rail. His legs were a little wobbly but felt like they'd hold him. He saw a pitcher of water next to the bed on the little table, so he poured a cup of water and dropped in a bendy straw. Then he looked back at his audience of the skeptical doctor and the smiling nurse. He made a mystical gesture, then grinned at the two.

Looking back at Melanie's beautiful sleeping face, he felt a pang go through his heart.

"Hey dummy, don't you think it's time to wake up?" he said playfully, ignoring his breaking heart.

"Who's a dumm- ack!" Melanie's throat was too dry to finish her response, so he helped her take a drink of the cool water.

The nurse beamed a huge smile and clapped her hands, drawing a glare from the doctor, who stepped forward to check Melanie's pulse and pupil response. The nurse made a hasty exit with a final brilliant smile at John and a nervous glance at her boss.

Melanie looked around in confusion. "Why am I in a hospital?"

John smiled down at her. Melanie took in the matching gown he was wearing, and her eyebrows went up. "Uh, why are we in the hospital?"

The doctor leaned in, trying to get his patient's attention. "Ms. Singh, what's the last thing you remember?"

She furrowed her brow and said, "I went home after work, and I was walking up to my building... and I woke up here."

John's face showed relief, and the doctor's expression was more confused. She looked back at John. "Did something happen?" she asked.

"Yes, but it's all over now. You were kidnapped by the boyfriend of Kate Darrows. You remember her?" Melanie nodded, her eyes wide. "He blamed me for her death, but he couldn't find me, so he grabbed you to get to me. I think he drugged you and kept you unconscious. He called me with your phone and told me he'd do a swap, you for me. When I showed up at his house, you were still out. I brought along the Feds and the police, of course. I'm not stupid!" His smile dropped. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this! I understand if you don't want to see me again."

There were tears in her eyes. "You came for me?" she squeaked out.

John was confused. "What? Of course!"

Her lower lip, the one he dreamed of kissing, was trembling, and he was getting distracted.

"I mean, how many friends do you think I have that I'd be willing to lose even one?" he finished weakly.

Melanie sat up and hugged John fiercely. Due to their positions, her on the bed and him braced against its side, her arms slid around his back, and her hands went inside his gown and on his ass. With her face crushed up against his upper stomach, she didn't notice, at first.

"Uh, Mel? Melanie? That's my ass you're holding," he whispered.

"What?" The words didn't quite register with her.

"Your hands... are cupping... now squeezing my ass cheeks," he said slowly.

She yanked her hands back, throwing the gown's back wide open just as Molina and Bellerose walked in.

"Ah, Christ! Doe, don't make me arrest you for indecent exposure!" the detective growled.

John spun to face Molina and Bellerose, which flashed his now open robe at Melanie, who got an eyeful of John's naked back down past his exposed ass. She yelped but couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Sorry, Mel! Could you re-tie those bows, please?" he said over his shoulder. He felt her hands on his back as he returned his attention forwards.

"It seems Melanie has no memory between getting captured and waking up here. I was just telling her how she was kidnapped, drugged, and left unconscious until we arrived to rescue her." He cast meaningful glances at them to get them to understand.

"You just poisoned my witness!" Molina growled.

"Did you miss the part where she has no memory of the kidnapping?" John shot back.

Bellerose looked to the doctor, and he concurred. "Ms. Singh seems to be having some form of amnesia, either brought on by some drug we didn't detect when she was brought in or by the trauma of the kidnapping itself. It's unknown when or if she will regain those memories. If you'll excuse me." He left the room.

"Doe, you're such a pain in my ass!" Molina growled and followed the doctor. John was standing facing the door with his hands clasped tightly before his groin to prevent the result of Melanie's wandering hands from showing. She'd given up on tying his lowest bow and was instead sliding her hands over the taut muscles of his ass in a daze. John's face was hot from a blush, and his legs began to shake.

"Yeah, never mind that last bow, Mel. I think I'll just go back to my room. I'm a little tired." He pulled away, and her hands followed, then yanked back as she became aware of her actions once more.

As he sat back in the wheelchair, the other occupants in the room got a good view of the tent. He wheeled himself towards the door, and Bellerose went with him. She took pity on him in the hallway by pushing the chair so he could use his hands to cover himself. Once back beside his bed, he pulled himself up and got back into it and under the covers.

"Awkward!" Renée trilled with a smile.

"Uh yeah, Melanie and I have a complicated relationship. Or rather, we did until I learned about the longevity aspect of hosting a wolf, which is called a Sedu, by the way."

"What longevity issue?" the agent asked.

"Oh crap. I'm sorry." John watched the woman's curious expression and wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He saw she wasn't about to let it slide, so he continued. "I guess you didn't have anyone to tell you. I just found out myself." John fidgeted at having to deliver this uncomfortable news. Now he knew how Carol felt. "One of the side effects of living with the wolf is an extended lifespan. Aging stops at some point, and there you stay. While your wholly human loved ones age and die. You leave everyone behind. That's why my wolf's previous host lost interest in living when his spouse, who was also hosting, died in an accident. I was completely smitten by Melanie... still am a little, to tell the truth, but knowing I'll be leaving her behind is torture."

"God, I didn't know. I've got to... think about this. I-I'll talk to you later," Renée said distractedly as she left his room.

Feeling like a total jerk for hitting Renée with news like that, he sat staring out the window for a bit. It made him think of Carol again and how she'd delivered the information to him. He picked up the room's phone and dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring, and he could hear he was on the speaker phone in her car.

"Hello?"

"Hi Carol, it's John," he said, fearing she'd still be upset from their last... interaction.

"John! How are you?" she asked. Nothing in her tone hinted at her holding a grudge, but he remained cautious.

"I'm good. Almost healed. Listen, I wanted to speak with you about, uh, how aggressive I got when we..." his voice petered out as he tried to think of how to describe his actions that morning.

"God! Are you worried about that? Put that from your mind! Wait! On second thought, don't. I expect you to make it up to me. Dinner, drinks, then a repeat performance... only longer. I'll try to remain conscious this time so we can go for seconds and thirds if you are up to it!" she growled sexily.

He was a little shocked, but he should have expected this from Carol. "Uh, it's a date."

"Great! Is there anything else you need?" she said, back to business mode.

"No, I was just checking in."

"Well, call me if you need anything. And I mean anything!" she purred, then disconnected.

He sat looking at the phone. He thought of someone whose voice he really needed to hear. He dialed the number to his condo. It picked up after the second ring.

"Hello?" Anna's voice said.

"Hi Anna, it's me."

"John! You had me so worried! Are you okay?" she gushed.

"Yes, I'm good. I expect they'll let me out of the hospital in the next day or so. I-I was just wondering if you gave any more thought to my request for you to stay with me and set up a yoga studio in Seattle?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, John, of course I'll stay. I need to go back to Portland to make arrangements for the house and to speak with Frances about opening a second studio."

"Excellent! I'm so looking forward to coming home. I'm beat. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sleep well, dear," Anna said sweetly.

"Thanks, Mom!" he chuckled.

He put the phone down, leaned back, and allowed himself to doze off.

Two days later, John was sitting at his breakfast table with Anna and Sasha, who hadn't left his side since he'd arrived at the building. She'd been eagerly waiting for him on the sidewalk when Jerry dropped him off. He'd barely survived her leaping hug and put a dent in the cab's side panel. He promised Jerry he'd pay for the damages, then accepted his cell from the man. He rode the elevator up to his condo, pretending to read the messages on his phone, as Sasha clung to his side, trying to ride him. She finally caught on that he was teasing her, so he had to give her a big kiss before they entered the condo. Anna opened the front door before the kiss got out of hand. She had a big smirk on her face and announced breakfast was ready. Sasha had been playing footsie with him under the table ever since.

"It's horrible what that man was doing right under the noses of his neighbors! No one had a clue!" Anna was upset from watching the news, which continued to be a daily onslaught of grim and grotesque facts and speculation (mostly the latter due to it being early days of the investigation) regarding the secret Prescott Prison.

What had begun as a global effort to track a wanted master hacker had exploded into a sordid tale of slavery, murder, torture, black arts, and other unspeakable horrors. The FBI was riding a wave of popularity for cracking the case, and a little of that glory managed to splash on his favorite Portland detective though it did nothing for his surly attitude. If anything, he became a little grumpier.

John was going to have to testify but had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the press or publicity this case was generating. Once more working in his favor, the news media demanded the true name behind the star witness. They were entirely dismissing the name John Doe as an obvious ploy by the authorities to hide the victim's identity.

Kenneth Prescott was in a maximum-security lockdown with round-the-clock observation. No visitors and no access to phones or computers. Total isolation. Apparently, he was still a miserable prick.

Anna and John were going back to Portland tomorrow to meet with a contractor to have the house rebuilt. They both loved Portland too much to leave it permanently, and hell, John had billions of reasons to rebuild the first house he truly called home. Of course, they did plan on expanding it... just a little. As much as the neighborhood's building code would allow. Anna had always wanted an indoor pool off the back of the house, and John wanted a bedroom on the main floor. He was done with basements.

John would use the time to visit his friends and speak with Deron about rebuilding Century Traveler. He'd already put the idea in the man's head when he called him in the hospital. The man told him he was doing well but was having nightmares. John told him he had just the thing for that.

The house phone rang, and John got up to answer it. It was security asking permission to send up a visitor. John had been expecting this and said to send them up. He walked over to the door and opened it. Moments later, the elevator opened, and Renée stepped off... with a suitcase.

John's eyebrows went up. "Moving in?" he joked, then he noticed the puffiness around her eyes. "What happened?"

"I broke up with my boyfriend," she said quietly.

"And the suitcase?" John asked.

"It was his apartment. Agents tend to move around a lot. It didn't make sense to have my own place," she replied.

"Come in, please," he stepped aside to let her in. "You didn't leave him because of what I said about Melanie, did you?" he asked gently.

She stood looking across his living room at the view, but he could tell her eyes weren't soaking it in. "What you said changed my world, John. I can't lie and say it didn't. The man I was living with was a good man, and I thought I might have even loved him. But when I saw my life stretching out before me, I realized what I felt for him wasn't enough to survive."

Renée turned her face to look at John and smiled weakly. "As the lead investigator on the case, I've gained a little too much celebrity for my wolf's comfort. I asked to be taken off the case, which they refused, but they did make one of their pretty boys take the lead and be its face to drum up good PR while I do the actual work on the case. I tried checking into the hotel I made a reservation at, but the press was waiting for me, so I came here. Hopefully, they will give up, and I can go back tonight."

"Or you could stay here. I have an extra guest bed--" John began.

"NO!" Sasha yelled as she lunged around the corner from the kitchen where she'd been eavesdropping. Her eyes were a little wild, and she was baring her teeth at Renée in a snarl.

"Sasha!" John snapped.

She took a step back. Then with a snarl that was half rage and half panic, she leaped at her competition, but John was already moving. He caught Sasha in a tackle, and they went over the back of a sofa and tumbled off onto the floor. He immediately pinned her under him and kissed her deeply, catching her completely off guard. He felt her muscles relax and the tension melt away. He pulled back and stared into her eyes as they reopened.

"Who is pack?" he asked firmly.

"Sasha," she breathed.

"Who is leader?" he asked just as firmly.

"You are," she moaned in need as she pressed back against him.

"And do you trust me?" he growled.

"Yes, but she is wolf. She is like you. You won't need Sasha," she said and began to whine.

"Sasha! You are pack. I'm not giving you up. Do you understand? You will always be pack unless you prove that I can no longer trust you or if you cannot trust me to do the right thing for us. Do you understand?" he said sharply.

Sasha looked at him with her wide blue eyes and nodded as a small smile crept on her face.

"Now, you have embarrassed me. Agent Bellerose is my friend. A friend in need of sanctuary. Members of my pack will behave with good manners to guests. You will apologize to my friend," he said with finality. He pushed himself to his feet and helped Sasha up as well.

Renée was still standing at the entrance to the living room, watching the drama unfold on the floor. Her eyes were wide with surprise and embarrassment. Anna was standing next to her with her arms crossed and an annoyed expression.

John blushed strongly. "I'm terribly sorry for that. Have you met Anna Harrison? She was my landlady in Portland and is my honorary Mom. This is my good friend and the only other member of my pack, Sasha Leonov. She lives on the tenth floor and was friends with my wolf's previous host. Sasha, what have you got to say to Renée?"

Sasha looked at him, and he nodded, looking her in the eyes. She turned to Renée and bowed her head slightly. "I am sorry for my behavior. John is my first pack. I thought you would take him. You won't do this?"

"Sasha!" John growled.

She looked back at him with just the slightest bit of frightened defiance. "I trust you. Her, I don't know her."

"It's okay, John. Sasha, I promise not to take him from you. I doubt I could after that display," she smiled.

Sasha's face lit up with one of her thousand-watt smiles, and she squeezed up against John's side.

"I need to speak with Renée for a minute. Have you finished your breakfast?" he asked. She shook her head and gave him a peck on the cheek, and she pranced back into the kitchen. Anna followed, shaking her head.

Once they were alone again, Renée turned to John. "How old is Sasha?"

"I think the better question might be, how old was human Sasha when she took in her wolf. She seems to have very limited human interactive skills and is mostly wolf. That said, she needs me, and I need her. She is pack, and will remain so. I'm sorry for the surprise display of intimacy. I thought it might defuse her panic, and it did. My offer of a place to stay remains open."

"I don't have to be a member of your pack?" she asked uneasily.

John blushed again. "No. Again, I'm really sorry about all this," he said, gesturing to the little display he and Sasha had made. "I have to let my wolf guide me when interacting with Sasha. Sometimes it gets... physical. But she's happier, and that's what's important. Being part of the pack is completely voluntary. Sasha desperately needed it. My wolf remembered it, missed it, and now needs it."

"What does your pack... do?" Renée asked.

"Well, we've only managed to get out once so far, but we went up into the mountains. We ran together, and we hunted."

"We had beautiful sex!" Sasha yelled from the kitchen.

John dropped his face into his hands and sighed.

Renée smiled at his embarrassment. "The running and hunting sound good."

"John! Come quick! Look at this!" Anna yelled from the kitchen.

John ran in to see what Anna was yelling about, and there was a news alert playing on the TV. Anna turned up the volume.

"...--sive explosion in the maintenance wing of the new Tennison Maximum Security prison just outside of Seattle thirty minutes ago. Witnesses on the scene are describing the damage as catastrophic. An entire wing is on fire. It's responsible for the heating and cooling of the prison as well as its water and electrical systems. It's not yet known how many employees were in the wing when the explosion occurred and emergency crews are just now arriving on scene. With no power and smoke filling the prison, the rescue workers will have an extremely difficult task battling the blaze."

John looked at Renée. "Prescott," they whispered in unison.

Renée's cell rang. She answered. "Agent Bellerose. Yes, sir. I'm... interviewing Doe right now, sir. Yes, sir, he's standing right in front of me. What? In his condo in Seattle. Yes, we just saw it on TV." She went silent for a while as she listened, her eyes growing large. "That's impossible! What? Sorry, sir. Okay, we're coming in." She looked at her phone and hung up. Then she looked at John, worry in her eyes.

"What is it?" John asked.

"Prescott is dead," she said quietly.

"What? How? I was told he was in isolated lockdown!" John barked.

"The lights went off after the explosion. It took the backup generators ninety seconds to bring the emergency lights back on. Then the guards went in to inspect the isolation cells. Four dead prisoners and Prescott was torn to pieces. Your name, DOE, was written on a wall of his cell in blood. My boss wants me to bring you in for protective custody."

John laughed. A single barking exhalation that sounded frightened even to his own ears. "That's not going to happen. Your agency couldn't protect someone in the most secure building in the state. I think I'm far better off relying on discretion and anonymity than surrounding myself with a big federal bull's-eye. I think it's time for a vacation. I apparently have many vacation homes all over the world, thanks to Wallace. This seems like an opportune time to visit them." His expression froze. "Wait! Now that Prescott is dead, is there still a case? Am I still needed as a witness?"

Renée had a frown on her face, but she nodded.

"If you want to help, you could get me one of those witness protection passports with something other than John Doe on it. John Harrison has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Anna's worried look changed into a smile, and her eyes welled up. Sasha looked outright panicked.

"These ladies are coming with me. It's the only way I can ensure they're safe. Sasha, do you have a passport?" John asked.

She shook her head, her big blue eyes on him.

"We'll need one for her too. Can you do this?" he asked Renée.

"I- I'm going to need to speak with my boss. He's not going to be happy," she replied, moving to leave the room to make the call.

"Happy or not, I'm going. You're going to keep an eye on the star witness, though, right? Did I mention I have a chalet in the French Alps?" John asked.

Renée froze at the doorway and looked back with a surprised smile. She nodded and started to dial as she went into the living room.

"Sorry to make that unilateral decision for you both, but I've seen what we're up against. You can refuse to come, but I hope you won't," John pleaded.

"I haven't been to France in a long time, and I've never seen the Alps there. I think that would be nice," Anna agreed.

Sasha was still looking nervously at John as though he would change his mind and leave her behind. "Sasha, what did I say about trust?" he said firmly.

That seemed to comfort her, and her smile returned. He affectionately kissed her nose, and the smile became a grin.

Anna frowned with concern. "Are we going to run then? For how long?"

John looked at the two women. His family. He was stunned by the changes in his life, some good and some not so good. But having a family wasn't something he'd ever expected to have, and he would gladly endure all of the pain he'd experienced again to keep it. He was ready to fight for them.

"I don't intend on running for long. Just until we can get more information on who we're up against and how many of them there are. I have Mr. Sass' help with that."

Renée came back into the kitchen with a smile on her face. "As well as the resources of the FBI."

He looked at his family. "Once we know our enemy, I'll take the fight to them."