The BeAst Of Me (The Beast And Me Book 5) Read online

  …but that would mean he might be the key to create an antivirus?

  “What about your assignment?” Peter ripped me from my tail spinning thoughts.

  “Executed as ordered,” I simply stated, because that was the truth.

  I had to kill a guy, so I killed a guy. There was nothing to talk about.

  Peter’s glance moved from me to his tablet PC and he scribbled something. I knew from other times that he probably was checking a box, putting down that the task I had been assigned with had been executed.

  “How do you feel about that?” He suddenly asked me, not looking up.

  His question took me off guard, and I didn’t get it.

  “About what?” I asked him, not being able to control my voice and prevent myself from sounding annoyed.

  He could mean so many different things with his vague question: the kill, that I was sitting there with him, that I wouldn’t become a father. Or all of it.

  “About killing people without questioning it,” Peter explained, staying calm.

  There wasn’t a hint of a grin on his face and it seemed as if he was honestly interested in my answer. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer it, just to humor him.

  He tapped onto the screen of his tablet PC as I stayed silent: “I’m supposed to ask you that. Isn’t that part of the normal routine?”

  “No, it’s not,” I gave back, trying to calm myself down.

  “Listen,” Peter explained. “This is my new job. My new assignment. It’s not coming from my brother. I’m just the only human here that might stand a chance against you should you choose to lose it. That’s all. Simply answer the questions and you can leave.”

  “I don’t get it,” I admitted, obviously confusing Peter.

  “Get what?” He gave back, almost sounding hurt.

  “You are enhanced, too,” I pointed at him. “You are stronger and faster than normal humans, you are not prone to lose control over yourself and shift into some dangerous, animal like creature. And they assign you to become my shrink? Aren’t you exactly the thing they were looking for? That’s what I don’t get, Peter.”

  “I’m everything like you, just less. Less strong, less fast, a lower regeneration rate. When you ‘shift’ as you call it, you can jump higher, run faster… and so much more, Jay. They don’t want me,” he shook his head. “Because if a camera records me on tape I can be identified. Because an eyewitness might be able to describe what I look like. When a civilian sees you, all they can tell the police, or any other investigator, is that they’ve seen a werewolf, a monster, a demon. And that’s what they want.”

  Maybe he did stop the treatment himself. Maybe Peter showed his brother the results, or whomever hired Doctor Clay Severin, believing that he had reached the goal they had aimed for, just to be taught the opposite. And now he didn’t have a chance to continue the treatment. There are so many reasons why it’s not possible anymore. He might have even tried and nothing happened, because his genes already had been altered.

  I stopped myself from asking him how he felt about that, because he already was punished. Punished with not being enough. The irony in that was almost too much to bare.

  “So, how do you feel about your last assignment?” He repeated and rephrased his question, and made me think about it; really think about it.

  “What choice did I have?” I asked him, trying to sort out my feelings about the kill-order. “None, if you ask me. Why should I allow myself to feel something about it if I didn’t have a choice? It was either him or me. Or rather him or seeing Meghan again.”

  There was an undeniable reaction to my words, to me saying her name. Meghan. Peter flinched, despite his self-control, I could see it.

  “And I guess, I hate that,” I added, to my own surprise.

  Peter didn’t say anything. All he did was put the stick aside which was his pen for writing on his tablet PC. I don’t know why I said that, all I know is that it changed my opinion of him. I always saw Peter as his big brother’s little brother, always forgetting that they aren’t full siblings and that they had a different upbringing. I despised him for trying to get his big brother’s approval, but honestly, I was the same when it came to my elder siblings. I wanted them to be proud of me. They were the reason I quit med school and joined the army, trying to make an even bigger difference than I would have made as a doctor.

  “What do you hate about it?” Peter asked, directing my thoughts back to the here and now.

  “All I wanted was to help people, protect them, keep them safe. I never signed up for killing people, and breaking their necks like twigs,” I answered, rather listening to myself than consciously saying them. “I used to care, I used to hate killing, and when I did have to, I shot people, I never... I never laid hands on them and felt life seeping out of their bodies. And now I do. I hate it. I do it nonetheless. I accept my assignments and I execute them. I’ve become a killer, an assassin. So, how should I feel about that?”

  Peter just looked at me, surprisingly unfazed. I wanted to see some emotion on his face, but there was none. And because of that I regretted even saying anything.

  “You’re doing it for her,” Peter said, quite plainly and, of course, he was right. “You’re doing it to see her again, to get a chance of being close to her again, aren’t you?”

  “That’s the only reason,” I gave back with realization dawning on me that I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “Is it?” Peter asked and I felt anger, I don’t know why, but I felt it as hot as a searing blade to my skin.

  “It is!” I hissed, instantly fighting to keep that cage’s door shut behind which my beast started raging. “All I do, is so that I get to see her again,” I continued. “To make sure that she is somewhat safe and unharmed, untouched.”

  “So, if she wasn’t here, you wouldn’t move an inch for the board?” Peter asked, his eyes darting back and forth between me and his tablet PC.

  “Not an inch,” I said, before I could stop myself, but in the end, I think, my admission was a good thing, because it would keep Meghan safe; at least for as long as they had use of me.

  Peter stayed silent. I honestly expected him to add or say something about my statement, but he didn’t. If that’s a good thing? I don’t know.

  Day 148

  Getting up the next day was rather strange. I had this strong sensation that something was off. That’s not a normal thing, you know. Being a beast doesn’t really separate you from being human. I just woke up with the feeling that something wasn’t as it should have been.

  Since I wasn’t on another assignment for me it meant that I would have to go out there and ‘train’ the few soldiers that somehow had managed to keep their humanity. It was quite an irony that I – who had once lost all my humanity and only just got it back, because they brought someone from my past to aid me in the most primal way – was tasked to train beasts who had more self-control to begin with. Especially when I suspect them to know, because why else would that always challenge me?

  But, then again, everything was better than being sent out to kill someone. Or maybe… not.

  However, it’s not the same. Just because you can train and disciple people doesn’t mean you can do the same with beasts. It’s such a difference.

  With people, you can appeal to their common sense, you tell them the rules, you show how it works and they repeat after you. And then you can adjust them.

  With beasts you must appeal to their instincts. I hate to compare it to dogs but beasts are like them. You need to show them or explain to them what’s the benefit of doing things the way I tell them to, otherwise they just do as they think is right. None of us was prepared for becoming what we became and that’s the whole problem. We all woke up one day and we were different. Every one of us had to find our own way of dealing with it, our own way of controlling it. Why should they learn a different way if they already know a way?

  As a beast, you don’t have morals, your motivation is prima
l, not idealistic, and that’s the big difference. Love, hate, need, despair, rage, suffering. All this the beast understands, but support, religion, ideals, philosophy, that’s all just a waste to them. So, how do you motivate a beast to do something for you, without appealing to ideals? That’s not something I’m good at, because I’m idealistic. An idealist without hope. I’m the worst first officer they could choose for this task. And they all know it.

  I must adjust, I know that. Just like I have learned to accept that I have to kill people, I must find a way to become the leader they need, and that means I must find a different approach. I must become more like Meghan.

  X X X

  So, my meetings with Peter aren’t just after assignments, great. It’s not like I don’t like having a conversation and be treated like a human, but why Peter? Yes, he told me the reason, but I’m not out of control… most of the time.

  After I reported to him as I would have to my superior, all I wanted was to leave and go see Meghan, but Peter didn’t relief me, so I sat in my chair and tapped my right foot on the ground, waiting for what might come.

  “You’re not seeing her today,” he suddenly told me and I knew that he was talking about Meghan; who else could he have meant?

  Learning the news, I felt anger swelling inside of me. My beast was stirring. It makes me remember that it was Meghan who tamed my beast, not me.

  “Is there a specific reason?” I somehow managed to speak without anger in my voice, but I am sure Peter still saw it on my face, even though he acted as if he didn’t.

  “Doctor Winters is absent, which is why we don’t have access,” Peter explained coolly, but it was confusing why he didn’t call Valerie by her first name even though we all once had been on a first name basis; even Meghan called her by her first name.

  I wanted to ask Peter what was wrong, but caught him pointing upward, where the camera was. So, this room has mics, too.

  “I understand,” I said instead.

  Peter’s phrasing made me wonder for how long Valerie wouldn’t be around, or if I should be worried about her. That’s just typical. I care about people who wouldn’t do the same for me. I know, I care too much. I think that’s the core problem when it comes to me. I should try and change that. Maybe I should get some advice.

  “When can I expect to see the others at my sessions?” I changed the topic, taking Peter off guard.

  “You have all the soldiers that were deemed usable in your current team,” Peter explained. “All the others aren’t … in the right state of mind.”

  “Torres?” I inquired.

  Peter shook his head. “She seems to have the same problems you had.”

  For a moment, I stared at him in disbelief. Nina not being able to claw her way back to the surface was the last thing I expected. She was a levelheaded, rational woman and in complete control over her body and mind, she usually beat me in hand-to-hand combat.

  “Believe me, everyone is surprised about that. As far as I know it was planned for her to train the first team and get you some time to settle into your new form,” Peter shrugged, and I couldn’t help but try and understand what had happened so that he was promoted from a guard to whatever this position was called.

  “Wheeler?” I asked.

  “That’s a whole different story,” Peter shook his head and I disliked the fact that he knew so much about people I used to know everything about. “He is coping very well and he is able to shift, but … he just doesn’t do it.” Peter continued and seemed to be fascinated by what he was telling me; he eerily reminded me of his half-brother when he was fascinated. “He just stays in beast-form and doesn’t care, and no one knows why. Maybe he wants his own Meghan.” Peter mused, making me tense.

  “I want to talk to them,” I demanded and carefully loosened finger for finger from my clenched fists, trying not to hiss as my claws retracted from my bleeding hands.

  “I don’t know…” Peter started but I cut him off, stating: “I want to talk to them. I can reach them.”

  Something in the way his facial expression changed, I knew that there was something Peter hadn’t told me and was probably not allowed to tell me, either. Or, he simply knew that whatever it was, it wouldn’t make me happy and that was nicely put.

  “I can pass on your request,” Peter eventually answered after a long time of deliberation. “But I can’t guarantee anything. Don’t forget that they already would have tasked you with talking to them, if that’s what they wanted.”

  I frowned, trying to understand what he was implying. They didn’t want me to influence Torres and Wheeler? Why was that? What plans do they have?

  “You’re relieved.” Peter tore me from my thoughts and I got up instantly, nodded and got out of the room.

  Day 151

  Not seeing Meghan makes me restless. And it just shows me how much I really need her, how much my beast needs her. It’s not healthy, it can’t be. Not for her and not for me. I can’t rely on her to always be there for me, to make sure that I don’t lose it

  I know… I know right now I am handling it. But for me it rather feels like I have an arrangement with my beast instead of controlling it. What keeps me calm is silently chanting that I am going to see her again, and all will be well. That’s the one thing that works. Most of the time. Telling myself that I will get my next fix, soon.

  Maybe that’s why they don’t want me to talk to Torres or Wheeler, so that they don’t get dependent on me. Or worse, they want them to be dependent on someone else. How sick is that? And it’s probably true.

  I’m only able to write because Peter just told me that I am going to see her again, today. I will not be able to visit her because nobody has clearance to allow that, but one of her guys can give me access to the monitoring room.

  X X X

  Meghan was pacing in her room. She looked as restless as I felt, but seeing her, mirrored window or not, helped me to calm down. I could just watch her for all eternity and that probably would be the best thing. I can’t get her pregnant again. I know that it’s what they want, but I can’t risk it. I can’t risk her health, I can’t risk that unborn life’s health, I cannot allow for this sick experiment to move on.

  Just a few moments after I had entered the room and started watching her, Meghan’s pacing slowed down and a smile appeared on her lips. A tiny hint of a smile, but it was there. Several times she stopped herself from turning towards the mirror, her hands flexing.

  I wanted to touch her so badly and I couldn’t stop myself from placing my hand against the window and imagine how her skin would feel beneath my fingertips. Suddenly, Meghan stopped altogether and then took deep breaths. The way her eyes were fixated on nothing, the way she stood there, it was as if she was focusing on something specific, as if could hear me, my heart beat. I know I could. And that only reminded me of the truth I just had learned about her, that she too now is becoming a beast. I don’t know how far the transition is, how much she has changed already, but it clearly has already affected her senses.

  As if to prove me right, Meghan turned towards the mirror and looked right through it, straight at me. But that wasn’t enough. She started to move, slowly. There was a difference to the way she walked and I looked at her for the first time, really looked at her, as she stalked towards me as if there was nothing separating us, almost as if I was her prey, the very thing she wanted.

  I am sure that the realization of much she already had changed physically would have struck harder if watching her moving towards me slowly hadn’t been that distracting. Although there was no chance that she could see me, she held me captive with her glance.

  I couldn’t move or look away, and still I knew that there was something off with her. And I’m not talking about that new allure, I’m talking about her. Maybe it’s just in my head because I can’t seem to forget about that ring of corroded copper around her pupils. I just know what it feels like to be in transition, and how much it hurts. It just… it doesn’t seem to affect her, o
r she is a way better actress than I give her credit for.

  I just hope that Meghan doesn’t feel the need to play pretend with me.

  Day 152

  I’m not sure if I really like looking forward to talking to Peter. I’m just not sure if I can really trust him, but then again, I don’t have to. All I must do is report to him if I have made any progress with my team or not. But I begin to enjoy talking to him because I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I don’t talk to Meghan. When I watch her, the mirror/window is separating us. I would hear her talk, and I’m sure that she would hear me, too, but how strange it would appear if anyone saw that? And maybe it will become handy one day.

  Just as my conversations with Peter. He doesn’t seem hostile towards me anymore. That’s why I feel as if talking to him has its benefits. He hasn’t brought up Meghan at all apart from letting me know that I can watch her again. And that’s it.

  Meghan used to be the elephant in the room neither of us wanted to talk about, but both of us were jealous of the time the other spent with her. And that seems to be gone. That is definitely a good thing.

  “And how do you feel today?” Peter asked me after I explained to him what I had the beasts do, today, which was explaining to the others how they would shift back, what helped them to turn back into human form and how they would control their beasts when it threatened to come out without them wanting it.

  Everyone had a different approach, but all of them seemed to work. Zane – or 26 – had a similar approach to me. He was thinking of his wife back home, the wife he would never meet again. Still, every single thought of her and his infant daughter helped to control his beast.

  Thinking about Zane made me feel guilty and sad, and that’s what I told Peter as an answer. I was curious what he might say and how he might react to my admission when I explained to him why.