“Poor Agrippa almost lost her mind thinking you might die. She quit eating and sleeping.” He pointed to an empty chair. “Your father ordered her to lead a hunt to occupy her thoughts rather than furthering her depression.”
Odd. Several female aromas lingered, but not the sweet scent he recalled. He scanned the room. “I can’t smell her.”
“Sterile technique.” He laughed. “We are so meticulous we clean off all but the most recent of scents.”
“Are we in Alaska?”
“No. Our pack moved after your change to Patagonia, to your father’s castle.”
“Patagonia?” What the hell were they doing on the opposite pole?
“Can you stand?”
He nodded and stood. “What now?”
“Dress and we’ll go down for a bite to eat. You will stay here for another day and then return home to Wolf Lair Castle. I’ll let your father know you’re awake. He’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Thank you.”
Cricket lay on a bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. She sighed. Back at headquarters in her cozy apartment, snuggling with Slade. She blinked. Shit. Cold reality bit her in the ass. Still with the evil cannibalistic oath breakers. Locked in a cage with a queen size bed and a large doggie bed on the floor. She stared at the cushion, her fur shed on it. She’d survived their bioweapon.
Cricket shuddered as she recalled her last memory; dying in wolf form. Alone. Whimpering for Slade. Had they made him forget and brainwashed him? Would he end up like the other kidnapped weres, laughing in the beer hall and munching on human flesh?
Her body ached. How long had she been bedridden? Vague memories of the medical staff coming in and out to check on her tickled her brain. They kept her hydrated with an IV drip bag. The staff talked. An urgency. The humans had to leave the facility. The launch of stage one. Oh, shit. Were they talking about releasing Variant Midgard? Here? Or nearby.
They had already killed hundreds of humans. Now they would kill millions. Not on my watch. Weak, but fully awake, Cricket removed the IV and stood on shaky legs. She grabbed a robe and glanced at the small bathroom. Looks like I am still housebroken.
As she shuffled to pee, the wall camera followed her. Great. No door. Oh well. Enjoy the show. She gave the camera the middle finger and relieved herself.
Cricket washed her face and stared in the mirror. Gaunt, pale with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her frizzed hair screamed for a shampoo. I look awful. A shower would have been helpful, but why keep a guinea pig clean?
Wolfstrom and an assistant entered. “Feeling better?” He gestured for her to sit on the bed.
“I will after a stack of pancakes and a ticket for the next plane out of here.” His assistant took her vitals, and she only wished she had the strength to bite his probing fingers.
Wolfstrom smiled. “Breakfast will be brought in. As far as a plane ticket, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“No problem, a bike will do.”
Wolfstrom snorted. “I’m happy you are well enough to be disrespectful.”
You ain’t seen nothing yet. “Hard to be a polite guinea pig after surviving Variant Midgard.”
His eyes lit up, and he nodded. “If you had not shifted, you would have ended up like the traitor. He melted into a puddle of toxic waste.”
“Accurate description.” She had to stop the mad wolf before he unleashed the virus on the human population. Cricket furrowed her brow. “So my wolf kept me alive?” When she began to burn with fever, she shifted. “I imagine you tested other omegas. They too must have shifted.”
“We experimented on omegas, but even in human form, none developed the infection. But you, being so human, did. And the news is better.”
“Better for you.”
“I made a new discovery.”
“Good, I hope you write a good article about my suffering in the Journal of Werewolf Medicine.”
“You, my dear, are the antidote to Variant Midgard. We have your blood serum and are already synthesizing the cure. Worth millions of bars of gold.”
“Besides the profit, why bother developing a cure?”