Page 108 of White Wolf
“Agreed. I don’t intend for any of Ingraham’s samples to survive, in the long run. We’re humoring him for now. Can you do that, Captain?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Ingraham’s likely only the first of many. There have always been members of the scientific community who want to study the occult, trying to merge the two. Someone almost always ends up dead, in those instances.”
“Comforting.”
The click of canine toenails on cement floor heralded the arrival of Sasha and his wolves; Sasha had learned how to walk silently; it was probably second nature by now.
Nikita glanced back over his shoulder and saw the whole pack was following them, Sasha seemingly unbothered by the bandage around his elbow.
The big female came right up to Nikita and ducked her head into his palm, demanding a head scratch. He obliged and felt his blood pressure ease instantly. They were good for that, if nothing else.
Sasha seemed to know what he wanted to ask. He unrolled his sleeve, covering up the gauze, and shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“You’ll mind when they lock you up in a cage,” Nikita huffed, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He didn’t want to worry the boy – but his own worry proved hard to contain.
Sasha gave him a smile that was so cocky and familiar it was obvious he’d adopted it from Ivan. “That’s not going to happen. And if it does, well.” He curled his hand into a fist and examined it, thoughtful. “I don’t think a cage would hold me at this point anyway.”
Nikita had to smile back, a little, though he knew it was touched with concern. “Not all cages are made of bars, Sashka.”
It was the first time he’d used the affectionate nickname, and Sasha noticed, gaze lifting, face splitting in a wider, truer grin, one that was sweet and excited, and all him.
“Still,” he said. “I think I’ll be alright.”
“I hope so.”Please God, let it be so.I can’t lose any more of them.
~*~
“Just humor him,” Monsieur Philippe said of Dr. Ingraham. “The tests are harmless, and then we can be on our way. We need his help with Our Friend Grigory.”
So Sasha humored the good doctor – he was a kind, if terribly nervous man, so it was no hardship. And none of the tests were painful or embarrassing. Sasha gave blood, and saliva, and urine samples. He lifted barbells loaded with impossible weights to test his strength – he hefted five-hundred pounds overhead with only a little effort, and Dr. Ingraham swore under his breath, astounded. He ran around the base’s yard, lapping the young private sent to represent the experiment’s constant, only stopping because Dr. Ingraham said that was enough, but not because he was tired.
None of the wolves would allow themselves to be touched by the doctor or any of his staff, and Sasha wasn’t going to force them. They were real, biological wolves, after all; Sasha was the anomaly in want of studying.
Finally, Dr. Ingraham nursing his fourth cup of tea, – grimacing at the taste, claiming he’d much prefer American coffee – the long day of tests ended, and Sasha realized he was famished and dying to breathe the clean, cool air of the outdoors.
“You’re sure we’re done?” he asked, hopping down off the table and swinging his wolf-skin cloak over his shoulders. He left the hood down between his shoulders, thinking Dr. Ingraham might faint with shock if he met the alpha’s snarling upper jaw face-to-face.
“Quite.” Dr. Ingraham produced a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket – the label read “Marlboro” – and shook one out, eyelids flagging with exhaustion. “Oh, sorry. Do you want one?” He tipped the pack in offering.
“No. Thanks. I haven’t been able to stomach them since the turning.”
“Really? Fascinating.” Dr. Ingraham glanced at his discarded clipboard longingly, like he wanted to write that tidbit down. But ultimately gave in to fatigue, shrugging and lighting his smoke. “Thank you, Sasha, you’ve been a big help.”
He didn’t see how, but oh well. “Sure,” he said, and ducked out of the lab, his wolves at his heels, before the doctor could decide to ask him anything else.
They passed two soldiers on their way up the stairs to the main floor, both of whom flattened themselves against the far wall, scared as schoolchildren. Sasha didn’t guess he blamed them, but he wondered what they’d been told. No one had tried to stop him from bringing his four-legged pack into the base, so he guessed there must have been some sort of announcement.Don’t mind the wolves, boys, they won’t bite. Much.
He didn’t take a deep breath until they were outside, crushing the early shoots of spring grass underfoot, and then he couldn’t stop breathing, sucking in great lungfuls of air. He was surprised to note that it was evening, the sun going down with one last matchstick flare above the tree tops, smeared orange and taking the last of the day’s warmth with it.
He stood for a long moment, head tipped back, enjoying the feel of the breeze through his hair, feeling the warmth of his wolves around him, tasting a hundred nameless scents on his tongue. Smells could betastednow, in a way they never had been before the turning. The copper of spilled blood when he took down game, the ash of a smothered fire, the musk of unwashed humans, all of it delicious in its own way because it was alive and vital and real.
Finally, he sighed out a breath and reached to pet his alpha girl on top of the head. “Well, silly us, we came out here without food.”
In response, she looked toward the open gates and whined, a soft question.
Sasha grinned. “I don’t see what a little hunt would hurt, do you?”
