Dead But Not Forgotten by Charlaine Harris Page A

essentially.”
    Quinn’s fingers opened and closed. He felt his skin bristle, felt his nails lengthen, and he snarled, thinking that he had begun to change. But when he ran his thick tongue over his teeth, vision blurry, he realized that he had not changed at all. Perhaps his teeth were a bit sharper, but he was still human. He could not focus enough to will himself to shift.
    Go to hell,
he thought, and tried to say. It came out a groan.
    â€œThere were two ways to go about it,” the man went on. “We could recruit existing weres or try to create our own. Recruitment bore some fruit initially, werewolves and a handful of panthers, even two bears, but few of those who willingly signed on to our program had any prior military experience. Not good with authority outside their own packs.
    â€œCreating our own two-natured has been more reliable in that we can draft volunteers from a pool of existing Special Forces military personnel, enlisting our recruited weres to bite the volunteers, passing on their nature. As you know, that process can be long and frustratingly unpredictable.”
    â€œMy mother,” Quinn managed, glaring at the man, thinking about the ways he might kill him if only he could clear his mind . . . and control his limbs.
    He blinked, realizing that he had begun thinking a bit more clearly, that Dr. Delisle must have cut back on the sedatives feeding into his system. Quinn bared his teeth but purposefully did not focus on his visitor, this military contractor. He didn’t want the man to know that he had begun to regain his focus.
    â€œIt might take being bitten three times for an ordinary human to become two-natured, or it might take considerably more,” the man said with a thin, humorless smile. “But then, I don’t have to tell you that, do I, Mr. Quinn?”
    The were population was hardly plentiful. Only the first child born of a coupling between two full-blooded shapeshifters would be two-natured and able to shift at will. Any further offspring would be human, with maybe a little enhancement. One could become a shapeshifter by being bitten, but the bitten weres could not manage the full transformation from human to animal, only something in between, and could only change during the three nights of the full moon.
    â€œSoldiers who’ve been bitten would be perfectly suitable for our needs,” the man went on, “if their ability to change form weren’t tied to the full moon. That’s a bit of a handicap, don’t you think? Yes, the bitten have their uses . . . but my employers are thinking more long term, planning for the next generation.”
    The man bent over and peered into Quinn’s face. The smell of garlic and onions on his breath was wretched.
    â€œIn the meantime, though,” the man said, “we’ll have to make do.”
    â€œI want to . . . see my mother,” he managed to rasp, his head lolling slightly. His heart thumped in his chest and he willed adrenaline to surge, anything to give him the power to kill this son of a bitch, but chemistry defeated him.
    â€œAnd you will!” the man pronounced. “All we ask is for a bit of indulgence from you in the meantime.”
    â€œYou want me to . . .” Quinn began, blinking and shaking his head, forcing his lips to form words. “Want me to go to
war
for you? Not a . . . not a chance.”
    Dr. Delisle tutted and came nearer to the bed. “We’ve done a thorough background on you, Mr. Quinn. We know you’d never be a willing recruit. But you’re a weretiger, sir. You and your mother are the only weretigers we’ve encountered.”
    â€œYou see,” the garlic-breathed man said, “a small squad of soldiers who could transform themselves into tiger-men—even if only one night a month—would be invaluable to a mercenary force. Our clients would pay millions for the efficiency