Jordan went to the living room to listen to music and write in his journal. A few hours later, he ventured into the kitchen and found Carl by the back door, putting his coat on. Diana had gone upstairs earlier, and it bothered him that he hadn’t been between the two. He grabbed Carl’s arm and pulled him around to look him in the eye. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"What's it to you?" Carl said twisting out of Jordan's grasp.
"I know that look. You're about to do something stupid, or desperate, most likely both."
Carl straightened the cuffs of his coat sleeves. "I need another sample."
Jordan fought the urge to clutch his arms.
"Not you," Carl stated, noting the response, "the wolf."
"Are you insane? You're going to go out there and try to find a wild creature in miles of mountainous terrain, get close enough to stick a needle in it, and then you think you're just going to walk away?" Jordan grabbed both of Carl's arms and held them firmly this time. "Remember what happened last time you cornered a wolf?"
Carl tried to squeeze out of Jordan's grip again. "This is a different wolf."
"You don’t know that!” Jordan gave him a light shake. "Use your brain. The only way you're getting a sample off that wolf is if you kill it first."
Carl flinched, then looked Jordan straight in the eyes and spoke quietly. "I need that sample. There’s something about that wolf, or she wouldn’t be hanging around me when I wake up. If there’s even a snowball in hell’s chance she’s my connection to other werewolves, I’ve got to know. We’ve been assuming what happens to me is representative of normal lycanthropy, but we don’t know that. I’m working in a vacuum and I haven’t got enough data points."
Jordan stared at him a moment, then released his grip and turned around to get his double coat, putting it on before grabbing the gun that was tucked into the corner of the shelf above. "Well, hell. What is there to lose but life itself?" he said, slipping the gun inside the belt around his waist.
"Where's Diana?" Carl asked as he wrapped an orange scarf around his neck and handed an orange stocking cap to Jordan. During hunting season, wearing orange in the mountains was just common sense.
Jordan’s lip curled, but he pulled the cap securely onto his head. "In her room with one of your books."
Carl turned around and grabbed the door handle with the towel that hung from a metal loop on the wall. "If I find those strange yellow cells in the wolf’s blood we’ll have to find a way to track it to its den. I have no idea how to do that."
Jordan stepped through the doorway after Carl and closed the door quietly behind them. “One step at a time. We don’t know what you’ll find. If you pull this stunt off, my guess is it’ll be normal blood and we won’t have to worry about it.”
They went down to the stream where they'd found smaller wolf tracks on the hike home two days ago. Carl was acting a great deal braver than he felt but he was running out of time to find a cure, and this was one test he hadn't run. Jordan found the log he had placed at the ford, they crossed the stream and hiked up a small hill to a tiny clearing. They waited for an hour or so, while the waning moon disappeared then re-emerged from behind clouds. Carl hoped the wolf hadn't come by while it was too dark to see – even now it would be difficult. He folded his hands in his armpits to keep them warm and tried to shift his weight. They both sat crouched on their heels so they could rise to their feet without making noise, but his legs kept trying to fall asleep.
Jordan looked back at the house and thought he saw a shadow moving near the front door, but by the time he pointed it out to Carl, it was gone. They continued to wait. Carl was getting discouraged. He knew wolves didn't necessarily return to the same place every night, but he hoped that this one sought him out more often than he already knew of. A thought dawned on him, and he gestured at Jordan. Jordan nodded and covered his ears. Carl leaned back against a tree trunk, cupped his hands and threw out a long wolf's howl. He had developed a knack for it since the first transformation.
They waited for another twenty minutes, or maybe it was an hour, before seeing a gray shape by the edge of the stream. As it stepped out from the cover of bushes, they could see the wolf clearly. Jordan pulled out the gun and motioned to Carl to stay to the left. They crept forward, Carl in the lead and Jordan silent behind him. Once Carl got close, he growled and the female lowered her tail and crouched, sniffing the air. He jumped on her and wrestled her to the ground, taking her ruff in his hands. It shouldn't have been easy, which supported the theory he was developing. He hoped she wasn't simply ill. She yelped when he cut her, and tried to jump up, but he was straddled across her belly-up form, and she was trying to prostrate and protect her neck at the same time, confused. He hoped her wriggling didn't hopelessly contaminate the sample. Unable to get the needle in, he swiped a slide across the cut as a last resort, knowing it would be dirty, then released her before she bit him. She lay there for a moment before jumping up and bounding away. He watched her go, sadly. If he was wrong, he may have ruined his relationship with her. Wolves did not hurt other wolves in their own pack without good reason, and this violent interaction had to seem totally random to her. He had just given her a clear signal that she was not accepted in his pack.
Carl and Jordan walked back toward the house without looking back.
* * *
Jordan slipped in the back door quietly with Carl, and Carl put the slide into the microscope. His eyes swept up to Jordan, who was watching him. "They're identical."
"Yours and the wolf's?"
"Yes."
Jordan went cold all over. "But how can that be?"
"She's not a wolf, she’s a werewolf." Carl looked back into the microscope.
"Can't be!" Jordan remembered aiming the gun at the wolf. "She’d be human…"
Carl shook his head. "All I can tell you is that the same bizarre cells in my new blood are present in the wolf's as well, and healthy looking. I've seen a lot of blood samples at the University, studied blood, and I've never seen or even heard of anything like this."
Jordan stepped closer. "What is it?"
Carl looked back into the eyepiece. "I have no idea, but it's quite obviously three dimensional." He ran a finger along a small dial to adjust the focus.
"But the wolf's blood is like that sample I saw of your new blood earlier? What do you think it is?" Jordan asked, watching him intently.
Carl leaned back for a moment. "I really don't know. Perhaps the question is: what do I think she is? Maybe I’m on the wrong track, and this isn’t lycanthropy at all, but something else, and it’s just gone horribly wrong in me for some reason that was corrected when I went to the hospital. At least – let me check again." He looked through the microscope and started muttering, “No, I don't think so. I think – wait. Hmmm… " Carl got up and turned around. "Look through the microscope, Jordan. Tell me what you see."
Jordan felt his skin crawl as he considered the implications of his own blood improving Carl’s health. He set his revulsion aside for now, though, and sat down at the microscope. It was nothing like what they had used in high school. This type he had only seen in pictures until now. "I don't know,” he answered, looking at Carl. “Where did you get this microscope?"
"From the hospital. It's on extended loan, I've been using it for a while now. Check her slide." Carl made an adjustment, and Jordan looked again.
"Umm… " He leaned back and Carl switched it back again. He looked at it and looked up again. "I don't know, Carl. I'm not trained—"
Carl put a third slide under the eyepiece, “I’m training you. Look again.”
Jordan placed an eye against the eyepiece and looked. "What's this?" he asked.
"That's yours, the plain stuff."
"Oh. Good looking blood, if I do say so myself."
"Yes – that's what the other two should look like." Carl switched back, giving Jordan a start. He'd still been looking in the eyepiece and the rapid rotation was disorienting.
"Hmmm. This has to be your old blood, with the broken cells, I assume.”
“Apparently you can be trained.”
Jordan gave a disgusted snort. “So, what's the deal, then? It all looks just like the pictures on the computer."
"But it shouldn't. I mean… my old blood… my new blood… the wolf's." Carl lifted his hands in the air, and huffed out a breath of exasperation.
"But you already knew it would, didn't you?"
Carl's folded his arms across his chest. "I don't know what I expected."
Jordan leaned over the microscope again. "What about this other kind in yours. This is yours?" he looked up.
Carl responded affirmative, walking over to Jordan.
"Well, this looks like a crossover sample. The new sample has the well-rounded yellow ones like the wolf's, but I also see broken cells."
"Let me see that!" Jordan moved aside as Carl leaned over the microscope. "Damn. You're right. When did that show up?"
Jordan was silent for a moment. "But then… "
Carl looked at the wall, lost in his thoughts. "Does it explain the rapid healing? Is it going away? How long have I got?"
Jordan's head whipped around abruptly. "Did you check your weight?"
"Not tonight, but the doc checked it this morning. I… I've gained a couple of pounds back… "
Jordan's eyes widened a fraction. "And you've been eating and working out all day, right? Mainly eating, I hope."
"Yes, I have. And I've been doubling my usual limits on the weights."
Jordan frowned. "You should have mentioned that earlier. Shit, yesterday you were hardly able to lift what I’d assigned you.”
Carl grimaced. "I’ve had a lot of information to sift through since we got back home, and this bloodwork has me totally baffled, questioning what I’m seeing even, which is why I need your eyes right now."
"Well, why don't we get back to the basics for a moment and check your weight?"
Carl allowed himself to be pulled down the hallway, and stepped onto the scales in the weight room gingerly. Jordan marked it down slowly and looked at the measuring tape.
Jordan checked and marked for the next several minutes. "You're up by five pounds compared to the same time yesterday. What the fuck?"
"And I've had tons of energy, all day long, like I used to have. Maybe I'm getting over it… "
"Think you'll stop turning into a wolf, then?"
"I guess we'll see in a few weeks."
Jordan was still thinking about the microscope. His curiosity fought with his pride, which lost. "Can I look at those slides again?"
"Sure." They went back to the lab, where Carl started pacing.
Jordan slid onto the stool, leaning over the microscope. He stared at the slide for a while, then looked up. Carl was still pacing, so Jordan picked up a slide sitting to the left of the microscope and slid it into position. "Wait! What's this?" He continued peering into the eyepiece.
Carl looked over at him. "What's what?"
"The slide to the left of the microscope."
"Oh, that. That's a slide I ruined, your blood and mine mixed."
Jordan jumped up in horror. "That's my blood?" he cried.
"No. I told you, my blood's in there. Don't worry, you're not infected."
"No, that's not what it looks like. You look at it."
Puzzled, Carl walked over and looked into the eyepiece. It was several seconds before he said anything. "Are you sure this was the slide to the left of the microscope?"
"That's where I got it. Are you sure that's the slide with both our blood?" Jordan tried to control his lurching stomach as he realized that, even if only on the slide, his blood had mingled with Carl's.
"Yes." Carl looked around the edge of the eyepiece to check the end of the slide, where he had used a pencil to scrawl several letters. "I marked it C, then circled the C and crossed it out." He looked at the slides on the plate that the eyepiece sat over. "See, this one is the wolf's, this is yours, this is mine, and this is… ours." He looked up at Jordan.
"You're sure?" Jordan looked hopefully at him. Carl nodded, and Jordan chewed his thumbnail, still feeling rather ill. "But… "
"I know. It looks just like the wolf’s, and just like the new one used to. Not a single flat or broken cell to be found."
Jordan blew out the breath he discovered he'd been holding. He started chewing his nail again, and it got on Carl's nerves.
"Would you stop that?" Carl snapped irritably.
Jordan looked up innocently. "What?"
"Chewing your nails. It’s like scraping your fingernails on a blackboard."
Jordan put his hands on the counter behind him and leaned against them, crossing his ankles. "Well, you want to try and do that again?"
"Good idea." Carl retrieved the ampoule of Jordan's blood from the refrigerator and set it in a stand, then pulled out another slide from a drawer. He rinsed the slide and let it air dry in a slide rack while preparing his finger.
It gave Jordan the creeps to see his blood sitting on the counter and Carl preparing to bleed himself again, so he decided to go upstairs.
His voice trailed back down the stairway. "Want some coffee?"
Carl yawned. "Thanks for the reminder, mate. Now, you better get me some or I'll fall asleep."
"Right." Jordan was almost to the kitchen when a thought occurred to him. He turned around and went up the next set of stairs, then tapped quietly on Diana's door. There was no answer, so he tapped louder. Still no answer. He raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it and went downstairs to make some coffee.
For the next two hours Jordan made several large pots of coffee and Carl tried to reproduce the effect, but it didn't work. He looked up at Jordan finally. "No go. There's something different in this batch of blood."
Jordan scowled. "You're not gonna make me give blood again, are you?"
Carl had to stifle a grin. "Tell you what – let me re-puncture your finger and I'll give you an extra week off after this is over."
Jordan considered. "With or without the truck?"
"Christ. That truck is going to be the death of me." Carl moaned. "Okay, I'll throw in the truck."
Jordan felt better. It was as if things were going to be normal again someday, and considered visiting his mom again soon, and Kira. To avoid having Carl do it, he pricked his own finger and shed several drops of blood onto a slide. Carl added a few drops of his own blood after setting the computer up to record the results. Carl stared at the monitor for several minutes, but nothing happened.
“Let’s give it some time,” Carl said.
Jordan nodded, and went to the kitchen to get the coffee. When he came back, Carl played back a recording for him, and he watched as the flat yellow cells knit themselves back together and inflated to become fat yellow cells. Carl looked over at Jordan as he took a swig of coffee.
Jordan leaned back against the counter with trepidation. "What does that mean?"
Carl's face wore a troubled expression as he answered, "I need another sample."
"We are not poking my finger again, dammit!" Jordan swore. Every cut he had – every time he bled – brought him closer to contracting this bizarre curse that Carl had.
"No, I'm not," Carl answered steadily.
"Then what?"
"Your arm. The only other thing I can figure is the refrigeration. I need to get enough to do another one fresh, and a second refrigerated from the same blood, to see if that’s the difference."
Jordan looked sick. "So, refrigerate a slide… "
Carl shook his head. "The reaction has already occurred on the slide. I need your blood again."
"Why mine?" Jordan clutched his elbows.
"Because it works." Carl looked at Jordan's arms, considering where to place another needle.
Jordan shook his head. "Do you have any idea why it works?"
"Not yet. Give me your arm."
Jordan realized he'd just heard the front door open and close again. He used the excuse to go upstairs, his shoulders still shuddering at the thought of their mingling blood. Diana was taking tall leather boots off her bare legs, her cloak wound loosely around her.
He’d lost track of her, but he’d been with Carl, and now he knew right where she was, for the moment.
"Coffee?" He watched her eyes, carefully.
She nodded, and went upstairs. Jordan caught her putting contacts in the upstairs bathroom as he brought her a cup. He’d continue to find excuses to check on her until she slipped up. The door was open and she turned to him, one eye blue and one eye brown. It was eerie. Obviously, she used blue contact lenses; it made her very strikingly attractive, but it wasn’t real. The real Diana was the darker one, he thought.