In the Werewolf's Den by Rob Preece

According to Joe, they were working on it. And it couldn't happen soon enough.
    Danielle's distress over the crowd was made worse by Carl's attitude. He seemed totally unsurprised by the turnout. She'd always thought scientists were nerds with unrealistic views of any reality they couldn't see through a microscope. Carl had confounded that belief, just as he'd turned around so many of the other understandings that had been pounded into her head by years of government television, ignorant teachers, and even warder instructors who taught to kill first and think second.
    Her fingers itched to do something. It was illegal for impaired to gather in large groups like this. It could be dangerous. Hell, it was dangerous. If they decided to attack, they could swarm her under. All of her warder skills wouldn't keep her alive for more than a few seconds.
    Carl limped out to the landing in front of their building and began organizing the throngs into groups by job function, potential lab assistants on the right and potential field workers on the left.
    "How about you interview the field workers,” he suggested to Danielle. “I'll have my hands full with the technical folks for the lab."
    Just what she needed. Up-close contact with the impaired. She suppressed the shudder. “You haven't told me what sort of skills you're looking for."
    Carl shrugged his shoulders. “You know. The usual. Initiative, intelligence, a way with people, and enough physical strength and stamina to pull some long hours. Some medical training would be good, too. It doesn't take a genius to get a blood sample but I'd like to know that they won't faint at the sight of it."
    She nodded. She could do that. Those were the same abilities, or at least some of the same abilities, required for potential warders. Certainly no warder could let a little blood make them queasy.
    "Let's get to work, then,” Carl concluded. “See if you can hire me about five for a start. But get a list of any more that we might want to add later."
    Five was more than she'd thought, but she trusted Carl at least as long as his invention was involved. She turned to go, then stopped. “How much should I offer?"
    He didn't even pause. “Let's start them around eighty thousand."
    She felt her jaw drop, but couldn't help staring. “That's twice what I make. You can get one of them for about five thousand, tops."
    Carl glared at her. “Please don't forget that I am one of them. I'm going to put a lot of demands on these people and I want them to know that I appreciate their work."
    "But—"
    "And it isn't my responsibility that the government chooses to pay warders so little. Maybe it's because all of the warders’ expenses are picked up by their prisoners."
    Danielle's body shifted into blur mode without her conscious volition. Carl's last slam had been too close to an attack.
    He must have sensed the changes within her because he shifted his weight into a cat stance. Now that was interesting, a wolf imitating a cat. She hadn't known he'd studied the martial arts.
    She forced herself to back down. She could take Carl, whether in human or werewolf form. She'd done that before. But getting into a fight wouldn't prove anything. It certainly wasn't going to get her promoted into the hunters. Not that she'd have much of a chance for that if word ever got out that she was the reason for the latest Dallas riot.
    "Hey, it's your money,” she told him.
    "Yeah. For now."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"
    He closed the distance between them. “Read the tea-leaves, Danielle. The magical community is being systematically deprived of basic rights. Do you really think the government won't see whatever fortunes we've amassed as fair game? If I can't get to the bottom of this magic virus or mutation or whatever it is, I won't have anything anyway. I might as well spend it while I have it."
    She thought she should argue, but she couldn't really disagree. Even four years in the Academy hadn't prepared her