Jory Strong: Healer's Choice

Another strain of coyote song pierced the evening air. Radek shivered before he could stop himself. “What is it?” he snapped, irritated at having shown any reaction.

Captain Orst’s expression remained flawlessly neutral. A feat in itself , Radek thought sourly, considering the pole that must be rammed up the man’s ass .

“The prostitutes tell me one of them has been missing for over a day. Apparently she was called from their quarters to service a convict yesterday morning and didn’t return. The man in question is also absent. His foreman says he reported it to you. Under the terms of the conscription contract you were supposed to inform the guard immediately.”

“It slipped my mind. Consider yourself notified. The workers and prostitutes were warned not to leave the encampment. The fate of those who do is not my concern. One might even consider it a validation of Darwin’s principles. Now if that’s all, I have work waiting for me.”

“I will return to Oakland within the next day or so and file the necessary paperwork.”

Orst turned away, heading in the direction of the building housing the guardsmen. At the sight of the man’s straight back in its neatly pressed uniform, Radek allowed himself the small fantasy of the captain encountering a pack of coyotes in the woods and being ripped to shreds as a reward for conscientious duty. Sanctimonious prick.

Irritation flashed to anger in Radek. If his father had been willing to give him more money instead of calling this venture a pipe dream and turning over what little was officially Radek’s inheritance, then he wouldn’t have needed to supplement his workforce with criminals. He wouldn’t need to tolerate the guard’s presence and, worse, pay for it as insurance that the conscripted men were treated fairly and not thrown to the Weres as the situation warranted it.

Radek snorted at the ludicrousness of it all. Civil rights for criminals. Concern for whores and the worthless poor. Ridiculous. If there’d been enough of his brother-in-law left to bury then Felipe would have spun in his grave at the direction the guard was taking as the various factions, including the Iberás, fought for control of it.

Radek paused long enough to turn on his personal generator before entering his quarters. He double-checked the locks on the windows then took a seat at his desk, turning on the computer so he could resume his study of the files.

It was a tedious, mind-numbing process.

Open the file.

Read through pages filled with complex words and ideas.

Decide whether any of it needed further study or not.

His alertness faded quickly, though it returned for an instant when he stumbled upon mention of a top secret government-sponsored project being worked on elsewhere in the laboratory complex currently being excavated.

Radek’s eyes grew gritty, the lids heavy. The drone of the generator outside and the increasing stuffiness inside made it difficult for him to stay awake.

He succumbed to sleep, to a favored dream.

In it he smiled as he surveyed the reclaimed valley that was his domain. Where there was now rubble and ruin, much of it covered in tangled vines and rot-created dirt, a city stood.

Its entrance and the roads leading to it were controlled by him. And like the city itself, they were patrolled not by guardsmen or the private militia answering to his father and Viktor, but by men who owed their allegiance to him and wore a crest of his own design rather than the one created by an Ivanov ancestor.

His wealth surpassed that of all the Founding Families of Oakland combined. It rivaled that of the Tassone vampire family who ruled San Francisco.

In his sleep Radek smiled as he stood at the entrance of a grand estate and watched the motorcade containing his father arrive.

A chauffeur emerged from a sleek black limousine to open the back door. His father exited, pride wreathing his face as his gaze encompassed the city and the mansion behind Radek. “You’ve done well, son. Better than your brother, Viktor.”

There was a short, pain-filled hesitation. “And God rest her soul, your sister, who was taken from us too soon.”

Radek aped his father’s sadness over Ilka’s death even as he pressed his lips together tightly to keep from pointing out she’d brought her fate on herself. Death made saints of grasping bitches and sinners alike, and his sister was both.

He escorted his father along a hallway filled with priceless artwork and into his study. Poured two glasses of expensive, imported brandy as his father claimed a plush chair covered in jaguar hide so black there was only a hint of the rosette pattern present in the fur.

The sleeping Radek frowned, recognizing a deviation in the recurrent fantasy. But the thread of concern dropped away when his father said, “I’ve arranged a parade through Oakland celebrating your achievement.”

His father lifted his glass in salute, pulling Radek more firmly into the altered dream. “To your vision. And to your courage for pursuing it when few would have dared.”

Radek touched his glass to his father’s and the scene changed, veering into new territory but making his chest swell with pleasure. He was riding in an open-topped jeep through the wealthiest section of Oakland.

Flags bearing his standard fluttered on the vehicles in front of him, as well as the one he was in. Men and women and children, all of them members of the elite, waved from their balconies while their servants lined the street. Even his sour-faced brother tipped his head as the motorcade passed, while at his side, Viktor’s tight-lipped wife regretted turning Radek down when he had expressed an interest in her first.

Oh how sweet it is , Radek thought, accepting his due as he reflected on the long nights he’d spent locked in the tiny quarters of the original encampment, the generator droning as he painstakingly went over the items salvaged by a crew made up of society’s dregs.

The computer screen he’d been staring at before falling asleep slipped into the dream, a sinuous thread working its way into his consciousness.

Numbers and letters rearranged themselves like a divine gift for the worthy, giving up the details of the government-sponsored project being conducted in a separate lab.

A thrill swept through Radek, followed by a chill. The scientists had known about the existence of Weres. They’d anticipated their emergence and thought they would one day attempt to rule over humans. They’d made plans for that day, to wipe them out using viruses tailored to individual species and tied to nanites.

Fear nearly woke Radek. He’d grown up viewing the stark images of plague and anarchy, the nightmare masterpieces hanging on the walls of every Founding Family to glorify their part in restoring order to Oakland and reclaiming it for mankind.

Before icy horror could force him from the dream, the dark, hungry place in his soul pulled at him, and he was once again in the jeep. Next to him, his father murmured, “Nothing can bring your sister back, but by freeing us forever from the threat the Weres present, you’re a hero to the human race.”

It was a golden dream of power and wealth and glory, a temptation so sublime there was no turning away from it. “I did what needed to be done,” Radek said, drinking in the sound of the crowds calling his name.

REBEKKA climbed the brothel staircase. There was nothing she could do but wait, and hope Levi remained safe. Even with her gift she wouldn’t be welcomed in Were territory. No humans were.

Levi would be accepted only long enough to tell his pride family what happened to his brother and to him in Oakland; then he would be forced to leave. Or he would die there. Trapped in a man’s form, he was viewed as outcast.