Page 167 of Golden Eagle

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Will and Much were already waiting for them at their usual booth at the Lion’s Den. Much had his laptop open, its blue glow lighting his face up, showing a lower lip chewed ragged with thought.

“We’ve found a list of the participants in the trial,” Will said in lieu of greeting as Trina and Lanny slid into the big, circular booth.

“I’vefound it,” Much corrected, without looking up from the screen.

Will grinned. “Excuse me.Muchfound it. Can they see?” he asked his packmate.

Much slid the laptop along wordlessly, and Will set it in front of Trina. She heard a server arrive, and heard Lanny order them both coffee – he could be damn practical, when he made an effort in that direction – but her gaze lasered in on the computer.

Had the Institute been a regular medical research center, and not some secret, government-backed supernatural lab, they would have been sued six ways to Sunday if the participants knew their personal info was being scrolled through in a bar. She was looking at a list of everyone who’d signed up for the trial, sheet after sheet of detailed questionnaires, medical histories, tour information, and all with headshots attached in the upper corners.

There were over a hundred.

“This could take a while,” she said, scrolling slowly, frowning.

“That’s our Rooster,” Will said, gesturing to the screen, and she paused.

Palmer, Roger; USMC, Sgt. In the photo, his hair was long, far too long for military regulation, and tied back in a low, sloppy ponytail. He was probably handsome, with his broad, square face, and blue eyes, very Nordic tough-guy, but his expression was a combination of fury and utter hopelessness. It tugged at her heartstrings, and that was before she read the extent of his injuries.

“Jesus,” she murmured.

Lanny leaned in to read, and gave a low whistle. “IED?”

“Yes,” Will said gravely. “He would be in constant pain if it weren’t for Red’s intervention.”

She sent him a questioning look.

“She can heal fresh wounds – even severe ones. Something in her magic allows her to reknit flesh and ease pain. But so far, she’s been unable to fully heal the old damage in Rooster. She helps with the pain; enables him to live a mostly normal life. But I know she wishes she could do more.”

Trina thought of the big, broad-shouldered man she’d glimpsed briefly outside of the manor house in Virginia, the way he’d walked effortlessly up the hill, cradling a redhaired girl in his arms. “I’d say what she does is pretty miraculous,” she said, and went back to scrolling.

The coffee came, and Lanny ordered them both sandwiches. It wasn’t until he was nudging the basket toward her that her stomach growled and she realized she was starving.

“Hey, don’t get mustard on my keyboard,” Much said.

“Wouldn’t be any worse than the Cheeto dust,” she shot back, but was careful not to hold her food over it.

Finally, she found them. “Here we go.”

The others leaned in close, crowding over either shoulder to see. Will smelled faintly of the woods in autumn, the tang of fallen leaves, the way Sasha had always reminded her of snow.

The two ferals had files listed one after the other: Todd Blevins and Eric Shaw. Both Army, both from the same unit. They’d served together in Iraq and both suffered partial hearing loss and, according to the files, “significant brain trauma.”

“Oh my God,” Trina said, setting her sandwich down, stomach clenching. “They were already suffering brain damagebeforethey turned them.”

“No wonder they didn’t blend properly with the wolves,” Will said, grimly.

Trina sat back, pulse pounding dully. Every time she started to think that the Institute was – maybe – a necessary evil if this oncoming war was going to be as bad as Will and his pack thought, she found out something even more unsavory. “Were they even competent enough to seek treatment on their own?”

“Probably not,” Lanny said, shaking his head.

“A powerful, but inexperienced mage without a shred of agency, and two subjects incapable of making the decision for themselves,” Will said. “There was no chance of it going well.”

Trina looked at their photos, their gazes frightened – but still human. They’d had no idea what was about to happen to them. Not just a drug, but a knife through the heart, and an incantation, and sharing their already-wounded brains with another entity, one that hadn’t fused properly.

She scrolled again. “I need to look for our vics.”

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