Werewolves are nocturnal - just like the wolves they resemble. Even underground, beneath fluorescent lights, they continue to behave like the animals they are. Therefore, at this time of the day, the majority of my guests were sleeping.
I hurried down the corridor. While most rooms held a hint of light, the better to simulate the muted rays of the sun, the last was completely dark.
As dark as Billy Bailey's soul would be, if he had one.
In front of each cell stood a table with equipment appropriate for that subject's experiment.
I checked the slides I'd made with Billy's blood. I wasn't sure what I was looking for; I only hoped that when I saw it something would click. But after years of searching, I wasn't sure I'd ever find the answer.
A body slammed against the wall with enough force to shake the barrier. Calmly I lifted my gaze from the microscope to the naked man plastered against the see-through sector of his prison.
"Billy." I made a notation on his chart.
"She-bitch," he said in a conversational tone.
"Redundant," I murmured, and he slammed his fist into the glass.
He wanted me to shriek, to gasp, at least to jump. But I rarely did. Why give him any more satisfaction than he'd already had in this lifetime?
Out of the corner of my eye I watched Billy slither back into the gloom. Only then did I release the breath I'd been holding.
Billy Bailey scared the living hell out of me. I never should have asked that he be brought here, but I was desperate.
I'd tried everything I could think of to devise an antidote that would put people back the way they'd been before they were bitten. I kept coming up empty.
I had invented a serum that eased a werewolf's craving for human blood on the night of a full moon. As well as a counteragent that eradicated the virus if the victim was injected before their first change. Sadly, the remedy didn't work on the already furry.
I glanced into the darkness where Billy hovered, waiting for me to make a mistake.
"You need more blood," he said.
His voice slid out of shadows, and I stifled a shiver. Billy was always watching me. He knew I was something, but he wasn't sure what. Because I was like him, and then again I wasn't.
As in the legends, most werewolves are created by being bitten. There are other ways for humans to become furry, of course. The list is as endless as the monsters.
I was a perfect example. I'd spent the first twenty-plus years of my life blissfully unaware of werewolves.
Then one night I had just... become.
I was a werewolf, but I didn't have the demon - shorthand in the J-S society for the psychotic joy in murdering anyone who crossed our path.
Killing sickened me. Nevertheless, I was still possessed every month by the lust for blood. Hence my first invention.
Yet even when I took my medicine, I continued to change whenever the moon was full. I had little choice. However, no one but myself and Edward were aware of my secret. Which was why my very existence was driving Billy more insane than he already was.
I glanced up as he materialized again from the darkness. Billy refused to wear clothes. I'm sure he sensed that his nudity disturbed me, though not because of any sexual interest.
His extreme height, incredible breadth, and large... feet would disturb anyone, even without the crisscross of scars that peppered his chest and back.
Since any scars received before a person became a werewolf remained, I'd come to the conclusion that in his previous life, Billy had been a very bad boy.
"Your arm, please."
Billy's lips tightened. Despite the bulletproof glass, I felt the fury pulsing from him like a flame. Yet his gray eyes were the coldest I'd ever known. Just looking into them for an instant could make me nauseous for an hour.
"What if I don't want to give you my arm?"
With Billy everything was a struggle.
"You know I can make you."
He ran forward, banging against the clear wall again. Sometimes I thought Billy wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. How many times did he have to test the glass before he believed it was impenetrable?
"It's no use, Billy."
Billy had been a trigger away from oblivion when I'd requested his presence in my compound. After chasing him for decades, Edward hadn't wanted to let Billy live.
He was a very old werewolf. No one knew how old, and Billy wasn't saying.
He'd been very difficult to apprehend since he didn't play well with others. Wolves are social animals, werewolves, too. Very few live their lifetimes alone. They seek out those like themselves and create a pack.
A lone wolf is not only a dangerous animal, but mighty hard to find running loose in the forests and large cities of the world. A needle in a haystack had nothing on Billy.
His size made me think Viking, except he was as swarthy as a Hun. The shape of his face recalled Cro-Magnon man, accented by his shaggy black hair.
No matter when Billy had been born, no matter when he was made, the fact remained, he was ancient, deadly, and he'd had practice being crazy for longer than I'd had practice at anything.
"When I get out of here I'm going to fuck you. First in this form and then the other." He lowered his hand and began to massage himself. "I'm going to screw you until you scream. I'm going to fuck you until you die."
Though my hands were trembling, I lifted my gaze and met his without flinching. "You're never going to get out of here, Billy. Never."
He recited his fantasies of rape, bondage, and torture every time I came near him. They did wonders for my guilt over keeping men and women in cages. They weren't human.
Not really. Not anymore.
I snapped on a pair of gloves, lifted a syringe, and pushed a button on the wall of the cell. A whirring noise preceded the presentation of the contraption for Billy's arm. He was supposed to place his forearm in an indentation. Manacles would clamp down, and I could draw blood without risk of injury.
Instead of following procedure, Billy ripped the device from the wall. Sighing, I tossed the gloves and syringe onto the table, as a steel door slid over the hole in the glass.
I'd wanted Billy for this very reason. He was the oldest living werewolf on record. He couldn't have existed for the centuries I suspected without incredible strength. I was hoping powerful blood would allow me to cure a powerful virus.
I considered my options, which were few. I'd tested the other werewolves throughout the cycle of the moon. None of them had been any help. I needed to test Billy's blood tonight, and every night for the next week. I couldn't drug him; that would throw off the results. I'd have to restrain him, which was as frightening as it was difficult.
Billy smirked. He knew what I was thinking, planning, and he couldn't wait.
A frantic howling erupted from the speaker on the wall. The real wolves, which I kept outside.
Glancing at the clock, I bit my lip. Not even close to their usual feeding time. Perhaps a raccoon had trotted past the outdoor run. Done a little "na, na, na, na, na" dance on the other side of the fence. That always set them off.
The howls turned into yips, then lowered to whimpers. Something wasn't right.
"They sound upset." Billy bared his teeth in a grin that was more of a snarl.
The wolves erupted again, and the hair on my arms tingled.
"You'd better check on them." He tilted his head. "But that isn't your job, is it?"