Cat Scratch Fever; Blue-Collar Werewolves V by Buffi BeCraft Page A

steps and break his neck
like Hambly. “Now tell me, Mr. Ridley, why would you mislead me all
this time?”
    “I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Kemlec.” Yes, Matthew thought, let’s go about this whole murder
scene in a civilized manner. “I was perfectly honest on my
resume.”
    Kemlec smiled, cold and a bit lizard-like.
“You’re either at very good shielding or a very late bloomer. Which
is it Mr. Ridley?”
    “I think it’s time for me to resign.”
Matthew had one chance. Gathering his strength, he focused his
telekinetic power and visualized grabbing the goon’s leg. He jerked
the limb forward. Goon fell backwards, huge arms wind-milling on
the crowded landing. The second goon covered his boss.
    Pain and exhaustion slammed into Matthew as
he wrestled with his ability. His vision dimmed, but he hung on to
the rail, sliding and throwing his body in the direction he needed.
Dodging to the side, a dart hit the wall; he cursed himself for an
idiot. Damn Milton Hambly and his penny-pinching audit. Matthew
could be at home, watching cable TV and trying to get rid of
Grumpy.
    Matthew wrestled the ground emergency exit
door open and nearly fell inside. His bottom jaw followed the
movement. Inside, Armageddon had arrived.
    Colorful flyers lay scattered around the
floor. A trail of red followed the path one man, make that body , had made skidding across the lobby. Sightless eyes
stared into oblivion as he lay crumpled against the bottom of one
of the interactive tour stations. Crimson blood spattered the
backlit display of a happy white-coated veterinarian and his yellow
lab. Hints of things in the blood soaked ruin of the guard’s
stomach were best not investigated too closely. Matthew looked
away. His gaze snagged on the widening puddle of blood flowing from
another ragdoll of a man laying face down on the marbled
carpet.
    Looking up reinforced the surreal feeling of
being in a horror movie. As if in slow motion, the werewolf
crouched on the roof of the information desk looked from the trio
of guards training tranq guns on him to Matthew. What got Matthew,
was that he knew the hairy creature was Brandon Weis up
there. Red and white tranq darts stuck all over walls of the
information gazebo. The darts pierced his brother-in-law’s faded
jeans, arms, and neck. A lot of darts.
    The werewolf dodged gracefully between the
top BioPet signs. Weis’ hands were extra, extra large and tipped
with long wicked claws that could tear a man into ribbons. Fangs,
both upper and lower canines, filled his mouth with sharp
animalistic teeth that had no place on a human being.
    The horror movie feeling returned as Matthew
slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. All in all,
he figured that less than a minute had passed. The goon in the
stairwell hit the door, forcing it open a few inches, which the
goon put to good use. He stuck his hand in it. Unwilling to let go
of the door to grapple, Matthew bit the back of the hand. The goon
yelled and jerked his hand back inside. “He bit me! Shit!
The bastard bit me!”
    “Shut up, you fool. You can’t catch anything
from a psychic. Now get that door open,” Kemlec ordered. The door
shuddered and opened with the force of the goon’s body. Spots
floated in front of Matthew’s eyes as he found and flipped the lock
on the door. He slumped in relief.
    The thud of a dart in the wall next to him
made Matthew jump. His eyes darted back to the guards harassing
Brandon. One was reloading from a bandolier slung across his
shoulders. Number two aimed for Matthew while number three kept
Brandon pinned down behind signs. Smart man, thing, er…werewolf,
Matthew corrected as he half dove and half fast-crawled behind a
scrawny potted plant.
    Noting that the guns held two darts at a
time, Matthew scurried as fast as he could to the nearest downed
guard, the one smashed against the tour station. Dragging the
potted plant slowed him down, but was worth it, considering a
missile caught in the