Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V Read Online Free PDF Page A

been long. Just long enough for the
haze of drugs to fade.
    He consulted the clipboard in his hand. The
dark skinned scientist had a nice, deep voice. The sound might have
comforted her if she weren’t his prisoner. “Fifiteen-Leo, how are
you feeling today?”
    Naomi Lindi, she reminded herself
again. Sometimes, with the old doctor, she would forget and respond
to the cold designation. I am not a number. I am a person .
She rested her gaze on the white-coated scientist and waited. Naomi
could never seem to catch this one’s scent. Instead, she relied on
the tense set of his dark, autocratic features and the concern
hidden behind his black industrial-sized nerd glasses.
    He looked back down at the clipboard and
grabbing the attached pen, jotted down some notes with his latex
covered hands. “You are looking better. Backing off of that sample
that Dr. Corban was administering seems to bringing you back to a
baseline. Very good,” he muttered to himself.
    He wasn’t sadistic like the others, but that
did not make him a good guy. Not only that, he was the largest
non-specimen in the room. His coat strained at his shoulders, as
did glimpses of the padded shirt underneath. His dark skin and
strong jaw line practically glowed with health. The giant’s doughy
softness was all pretend.
    Irritation prickled along her nerves,
causing Naomi to growl faintly. She wasn’t fooled. She vowed that
the scientists were going to die. If not by her claws and teeth,
then he’d die by another’s.
    “Dr. Drake, you’re not supposed to talk to
them.” One the other four sadists walked into the narrow view of
her cell. She growled again at the small man, a low warning growl.
She knew him. The small one liked to inflict as much pain on his
charges as possible. “You’re just supposed to figure out what makes
them tick.” With malicious glee, the small scientist twirled his
long silver wand between his fingers, and then poked it through her
bars. “Then kill them.” Despite her swollen joints and hot skin,
Naomi shuffled back to the far edge of her cage.
    Dr. Drake snatched the silver wand away in
his gloved fingers. A trick of the light and his ugly black glasses
gave the illusion of feral anger in the scientist’s deep brown
eyes. “ Doctor Sanderson. Please refrain from antagonizing my
subjects.” The gleam was nothing more than the cold black stare of
an irritated scientist. Dr. Drake blocked the path between the
intruder and Naomi. “The added metabolic stress affects the test
and defeats my baseline analysis.”
    “Yeah, Sanderson,” one of the other
white-coats yelled. “Stop screwing around with our guinea pigs or
I’ll report you. Supernaturals are hard enough to come by.”
    Sanderson puffed up. His face turned an even
uglier splotchy red. “Up yours fatso. You think you’re so important
because you’ve something to work with. All Mr. Big-Wig, Faust
Kemlec, cares about is results for the Achilles project, not how
nice you treat the lab rats. And I get results.”
    “Right,” the other scientist sneered,
loudly. “What kind of results? The kind that infected and killed
Corban? Is that why you haven’t been able to get any more pets to
torture?”
    “That wasn’t my fault. I turned in a
requisition. I’ve talked to Kemlec and he promised me the
next werewolf.” Sanderson’s unsaid, so there , was plainly
understood.
    “Wasn’t your fault? You designed the virus
that killed him, you idiot.”
    “I said it wasn’t my fault!” Sanderson
yelled back then turned to glare at Drake as if his lack of
prisoners were the newcomer’s fault, then at Naomi through the
bars. She couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief as he
suddenly marched out of sight, mumbling at the unfairness of
laboratory politics and how that ass-kisser Drake got all the new
equipment.
    Undisturbed by the outburst, Dr. Drake
slipped a bottle of water into her cell. Unlike the late Dr.
Corban, this scientist didn’t seem concerned that