The Way You Bite(60)

A werewolf with dark, short-cut hair and the essence of an ancient sat in an antique wood recliner, which was simple, but looked dreadfully uncomfortable. The wolf put down his book. “Ah, Lexan. Thank you for…answering my request. You must be Velvet, Blay’s little girl.” He smiled. “I’m Jacob. This must all seem a lot to take in.”

“Good to meet you,” she said distractedly as she stared at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves housing hundreds of cloth and leather-bound books.

Jacob waved at shelves. “Borrow whatever you wish. You look like your mother, whom I had the honor of meeting once. Such a wonderful female. I wanted to meet you before I die. It’s a selfish request, but I haven’t got long now, at least that’s what they tell me. Kidneys are at the end and all.”

“This is your uncle,” Lexan said softly.

Her gaze bounced off an antique copy of The First Book of Urizen, which looked original and had to be worth thousands of dollars. She had an uncle in this bizarre world where her father was an ancient werewolf. “What do you mean you don’t have long? You’re a werewolf. How in the world can a species capable of immense regeneration have an incurable disease?”

Jacob shot a confused glance at Lexan.

“She doesn’t know,” Lexan said. “About six years ago, our people started getting sick. Not many, but about one in a hundred or so. It’s not overtly contagious. Seemed to hit at random. Human medicine couldn’t figure it out and labeled it some sort of autoimmune condition. We started doing research. Blay’s scientists have had the most success in figuring out the specifics. It’s a virus designed to attack our species. Those who get sick were exposed to it, but they can’t pass it on.”

“Designed? As in a virus modified in a lab to target you? A biological weapon?”

“Yes. It causes a degenerative process where the body puts down deposits in all organs, but the body doesn’t recognize the deposits as abnormal. When there are too many deposits, the organ shuts down. Magical healers can’t seem to counter it.”

“Like Feline Infectious Peritonitis in cats?”

“I don’t know this disease.” Lexan glanced to Jacob.

“Yes,” said Jacob. “It’s a mutated corona virus like FIP, which leaves immune complex depositions. Once I found out I was sick from the virus, I built this facility and studied with one of the best virologists in Canada. We continue to search for a cure. I have hope even if I may not be around to benefit from it.”

“But FIP is incurable in cats. It’s a slow death.”

Lexan said, “Recent information has surfaced that the virus was released by authorization of the Italian DiFalcos.”

“Why would they want to kill you? I thought they wanted you as slaves again?”

“I think we’ve progressed far beyond enslavement. When we fight this time in the open, it’s to the death. They hope to weaken us by eliminating all our ancient ones, the ones who remember how to fight.”

“Except you.” He was at risk. She already knew he was at risk from assassination, but maybe this was part of the reason for his seclusion.

“I’ve been exposed, but I didn’t get sick. All of my boys have been exposed, but for some reason we didn’t get ill. To expose us they must have a werewolf working for them who knows where we live.”

“A traitor.” Her mind whirled. Unable to do much with a traitor scenario, she focused on the science. That was something she understood and could dissect. “It’s like FIP, then. The mutated virus doesn’t have virulence for all cats, although veterinarians aren’t sure why.” She wanted to figure out the mystery. Her mind bounced between human medicine and veterinary.

“I won’t let you get involved,” Lexan said.

She scowled.

He held up his hand. “The ones at most risk are the demisangs, like you. They all die, and more rapidly than any pureblood wolf.”

“We’re in the safest end of the facility. It’s not an aerosolized contagion that we know of, but precaution is important.” Jacob waved at her mask. “I wanted to meet you. Blay told me about you and Lexan. It’s a gift to have each other.”

“We shall leave you, then.” Lexan nodded his head and moved to exit.

Jacob grabbed her arm as she turned to go. His grip hurt. She tugged to release.

He whispered. “You have to finish my work, Vee. You have to. The only one who can understand this is you.” He thrust a flash drive into her palm. “I’ll be dead within the next day or two. It’s up to you now to help them and carry on my research.”

She yanked her arm away and followed Lexan out of the facility, fingering the flash drive.

The sun had set, the air crisping without daylight. A blue hue from a full moon on its rise bathed the trees. It lured her with the freedom to run and feel the wind on his face.

She hugged her arms.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit. Where exactly are we?”

“Quebec. One of Blay’s estates.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body. She relaxed into him. “He’s got thousands of acres here. Lots of space to be free. He’s owned it for decades. Like many of us, he collects properties across the globe.”

She gazed up at the two-story antebellum house with a wrap-around porch. It was out of place and time in Canada. It should be a house on the coast of the southern United States, somewhere with water and mosquitoes. Somewhere with plantation fields, huge wicker fans, and everyone wearing white.