Page 107 of White Wolf

“That’s g-good to know.”

Sasha lifted his head, saw Nikita, and smiled so hard his eyes turned to bright blue slits, truly happy, just as Dmitri had always been. Nikita was the gloomy friend, of the two of them –had been; he had to remind himself constantly that that time was past. It was so easy to fall into the old thought patterns around Sasha.

“Nik,” he greeted.

The wolves turned to regard him, too, going from wary to welcoming – though he had no idea how he managed to read that in their faces. One of the betas let out a quiet woof of hello.

“Morning,” he said to everyone. Then let his gaze land on Monsieur Philippe. “What’s going on? Is he sick?” The thought set his pulse thumping.

“No,” the Frenchman assured. “Healthy as a horse. Or, well, as a wolf, I guess you’d say. Just some routine testing for Dr. Ingraham’s study.”

“His study?” He glanced at the other faces, saw that his men and Katya looked skeptical in the extreme. Katya tugged her lower lip between her teeth; she’d been chewing on it after all, then.

Dr. Ingraham pulled the vial and needle away from the crook of Sasha’s elbow in a practiced movement, replacing it with a wad of gauze that he pressed tight to the pricked vein. “Oh, yes.” He sounded eager for a chance to talk about his work, shooting Nikita an excited smile that went unreturned. “It’s a study I began in America – one that was, at the time, largely theoretical.” He gave a single bitter laugh. “My colleagues at Harvard told me I wasinsane. And I started to think maybe I was: believing that occult forces could be harnessed in some way to aid in the treatment of complex medical conditions. ‘Black magic,’ they called it. Said I was a Satanist. They didn’t believe that anyone with supernatural powers actually existed.”

He shook his head as he bandaged Sasha’s arm. “I knew I was right, though, IknewI was, and Iwas.”

Nikita was glad he hadn’t eaten yet, his stomach grabbing unhappily. “You’re using him, then.” Just like Monsieur Philippe was – hell, just like all of them were. Sasha had been nothing but a sweet pawn from the first.

Dr. Ingraham – bent over a rack of vials full of dark, viscous crimson liquid – jerked upright with an alarmed look. “I would never harm him – harm anyone! This is such a unique opportunity for me – for everyone!–”

“What Dr. Ingraham means to say is,” Philippe said, “is that prior to leaving America he obtained a sample of wolf blood.”

“Accidentally,” the doctor put in, recovering somewhat, nudging his glasses up his nose. “I didn’t even know what it was, at first, but then I put it under the microscope and discovered it had nearly triple the amount of white blood cells of a normal, healthy person.” He took a breath, settled a bit more, and continued, growing excited again. “Naturally I thought my test subject must be very ill – but somehow, miraculously, he wasn’t. He waswell. He was strong and fever-free. He was a wolf! Like Sasha. And he was willing to help me with my research. At least, he was…” His shoulders drooped. “Until he went missing.”

The doctor sighed. “I spent five years crafting a grant proposal. My thesis was that preternatural beings existed, and that, having once been human, an extensive study of their anatomy and physiognomy could potentially benefit the medical field.”

“Dr. Ingraham’s grant built this facility,” Philippe said, something in his look pointed.

Nikita wasn’t feeling cooperative. “So why not build it in America?”

Kolya rolled his eyes skyward.

Katya bit down hard on her lip.

Ivan coughed into his hand.

Flustered again, Dr. Ingraham said, “Well, after Monsieur Philippe’s invitation–”

“Captain Baskin,” Philippe said, stepping forward finally. “Can I talk to you in the hall a moment?”

“Smooth,” Feliks chuckled under his breath.

Nikita let the old man take his elbow and steer him out of the room, managing not to jerk away like a petulant child. It was a near thing, though.

“So you invited this idiot here,” he said once they were alone. “That sounds like a good way to further our cause: involve an American scientist who wants to study Sasha like a lab experiment.” His tone was cutting, but Philippe responded calmly.

“Tell me, Captain, do you think any of the secular leaders of this nation would have listened to a word I had to say if I phrased it as a matter of spells and spirits? No,” he said before Nikita could respond. They walked slowly down the hall, voices low. “They wanted facts, and science, and probabilities. That’s what I’ve given them with Dr. Ingraham.”

Nikita snorted, unconvinced. “Why an American?”

“He had the money. And the wolf he used to write his proposal? That was Mitya – an idiot Russian wolf I once met who ended up immigrating to Siberia, and then Alaska, and, apparently, Boston at some point. He’s a useless fool, but he is a wolf. I learned of his involvement with Dr. Ingraham through the underground gossip network, and let’s just say he’s the sort of man with more resources than good sense, and he knew too much to leave him in the wind.”

“You’re using him, then, and not the other way around.”

“Precisely.”

Nikita reached to rub a kink from his neck. Ten hours back in this place had left him sorer than all their traipsing through the countryside. “Sasha isn’t a lab rat to be studied,” he said, tiredly.

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