Page 8 of Last Hope
“What do you propose we do, Sir?”
He sighed.Musthe do it all himself? Frankly, he was tired of being the master of fools.Damn you, Master,he cursed silently,damn you for leaving me with a bunch of idiots!
“The plan continues as I had ordered it before.” Azizi said simply. “Bring me her head. And if you can’t, well, I suppose I will have to do it myself. And when I’m finished with her…I will kill you for not being able to handle it on your own, understand?”
The supernatural gave him a stiff, nervous nod and exited the room.
Azizi turned back to his work and, with a gentle hand, stroked the side of the cold metal. “Oh, Isis,” he whispered, more to himself than to the machine. “If you saw me now, would you be proud of me?”
6
The room was cold, as it always was, but that hardly affected her, being a werewolf and all. Her body heat was usually always at an all-time high and she never felt more than a little draft of wind. The plain walls around her were surprisingly comforting and familiar, considering she looked at them practically every goddamn day on the job.
“Why did you go after Isis?” FBSI agent, Victoria Phillipe questioned the supernatural that sat behind a big metal desk in front of her. She stopped pacing a moment to study his behavior. That was her expertise: behavior.
The wolf’s lip quirked back into a sarcastic smile Victoria found quite irritating. If only she could grab him by the throat and pound his face into a wall to make the process go by faster, she’d be all for it.
She studied him closely. His hair was shaggy and very light brown, he appeared as though he hadn’t bathed for weeks and the odd twitch and his constant need to be in motion told Victoria all she needed to know about him.
He may have tried to give the air of superiority, but it was merely a façade. Well, hardly. He was the type of guy that liked to preach the word of his superior. So, superiority was something he wasn’t faking, although he bathed in it through another. No, this man was nothing but a follower, anobsessedfollower.
Judging by his looks, she had assumed he had probably been a raggedy teenager, living on the streets, dumping over trashcans to find a night’s meal and his next fix when this Caesareon guy had taken him in.
Now, the kid worshipped the lunatic, even in death. And she also knew that he would tell her everything she needed to know, because the praise and the plan were justtoo goodto be kept secret. He wanted to boast out his Master’s accomplishments to the world; she had met his type before.
“Because the bitch killed my Master!” he practically barked at Victoria and for a moment she thought of a puppy. “She deserves to die for it.”
See?Victoria thought to no one in particular. “Your master, meaning Caesareon?”
The wolf’s fingers twitched. He was dying to attack something. She had a feeling he would snap any time soon, and she’d be the one attacked, and when he made that mistake, she would be ready to snap his arm out of its socket.
“Master Caesareon,” the wolf whispered. “His death wasn’t planned. No one suspected he would die, not like that…”
“So there are more of you, aren’t there? More of his followers?” She knew the one’s they had captured at the mall couldn’t have been all of them. “So, what, are you guys just going to hunt down Isis for revenge?” She pulled out one of the metal chairs and sat down across from him, legs crossed, observing his every move.
“Well, of course that’s the plan, you stupid bitch!” he snapped at her.
She didn’t even bat an eye at his retort; there was no need, especially when she had been called far worse during her career. Instead, she ran a hand through her long blonde curls and sighed. “I’m assuming you formed an Isis hate group, correct?” It was so typical that it had begun to bore her, that attitude of the cubs.
At this, the wolf laughed, long and loud and it sounded more like a hyena’s howl than a wolf’s. By this point, all Victoria wanted to do was punch him in the throat.
“What’s so funny?” she asked in a bored tone.
“Our Master has ordered the destruction of Isis so that he may continue with the original plan!”
“Caesareon is dead, why are you talking about him as if he were still alive?”
“Yes,” the wolf said. “Caesareon is dead, but we have a new Master now, chosen as a second in command by the original Master himself!”
Victoria perked up. “Who’s your new master?”
His neck twitched to the side awkwardly. “You only want to know so you can kill him!”
And then he snapped.
It was like watching a metamorphosis. His nose extended three times in length, canines sprung from his gums, causing blood to spurt all over the metal table. What had once been words turned into guttural growls and barks, the clothes they had supplied him with ripped from his body as his skin peeled back and fell into puddles on the floor and grey hair sprouted like grass on his body.
Luckily, Victoria had predicted this. The wolf lunged across the table at her, his gaping jaws snapping like a mouse trap. Victoria hurtled herself backwards but didn’t need to change into her wolf form to stop him. She twirled as he lunged for her and she was suddenly behind him, gripping him by the back of the neck and pulling him towards her. She wrapped her forearm around the front of his neck and squeezed, cutting off his airway. She held on to him, tightly, until he could bear it no longer and shifted back into his human form.
