Dr. Lillian was a wererat and was small, a true petite, with shoulder length gray hair. The white turtleneck she wore was covered with a medium blue lab jacket, the kind health care workers wore. Her pants were beige and cotton. She carried an old-fashioned black medical bag. She ran a clinic for women and children and took care of the wereanimals in the city in her spare time. She had inspired Christa, one of the housemates, so much that she had decided to pursue medicine even though she was a werewolf and would be thrown out of the medical field if that was found out.

Lillian wasted no time in acknowledging the others in the room. She was used to immediately visually assessing a situation and did the same this time. She laid her bag on the dark cherry night stand beside the bed and began to check over her patient.

She asked for his name, seeing the odd angle his left arm was taking and gently rolled him onto his right side, thinking his shoulder was dislocated. Anita told her his name and what injuries Asher suspected he had while Lillian opened her bag. Lillian asked Anita and Angie to remove Jason’s blood soaked jacket and shirt while moving his left arm as little as possible. They managed to do so without having to cut the clothing off him, which is what they would have done at a hospital. That revealed his left side and left back, including his shoulder, were badly bruised from the impact with the tree. That also revealed the silver cross he was wearing on an eighteen inch silver chain about his neck. The chain was also covered with blood.

“We’d better get that off him before Jean-Claude or Asher come back,” Anita said, reaching down to unclasp it.

“He never takes it off,” Angie said. “He’s Catholic and goes to Church regularly. He doesn’t like vampires.”

“Jean-Claude didn’t have to agree to help with this,” Anita said as she unclasped it. She stretched her hand out towards the younger woman, the chain and cross in it. “He can have it back later. You might want to clean it up and hold it for him.” Angie nodded and took it from her, moving towards the bathroom.

“Jean-Claude said something about not being able to take him to a hospital because he witnessed your killing Taylor?” Lillian asked. She didn‘t wait for Anita‘s response. “I need some warm water, a few washcloths and towels,” she said.

Jason the werewolf was standing in the doorway, Tiko at his side. Anita looked his way and even before she could say anything, he said he’s get what Lillian needed.

The bedroom had it’s own private bathroom. Angie placed the blood soaked garments into the sink and started to run cold water over them, then washed off Jason‘s cross an chain, patting them dry with the oversized purple towel. As she did so, the sink quickly filled with pink water and she turned down the tap, not wanting it to overflow. She put the cross and chain into her right front jean pocket and came back out into the room. Tiko moved from the doorway to her side. He nudged her hand and she absently stroked his head.

Anita told the story of what had happened yet again. Lillian listened but didn’t wait for Jason the werewolf’s return to began her physical examination, asking how long he’d been unconscious, what had caused the head wound. They had kept the towel Angie had been using as a compress against the wound, not wanting to get any more blood on the bed than they had to.

“I don’t like his retinal response,” Lillian told them, gently probing Jason’s skull with her finger tips. She wasn’t sure about the area around the wound. “I can’t tell anything without an X-Ray, but he could have a skull fracture.” The Doctor’s look at Anita was reproachful. She could understand being called in to take care of an injured wereanimal, but a human?

“I told you, I killed Taylor without an Order.” Anita’s voice was high with growing exasperation. She wasn’t used to having to explain herself anymore. “It was pack business, but if the police find out, I’ll be arrested for murder and since I used my powers to track him, I’d get an instant death sentence.”

“The way he was bleeding, I’m assuming there’s a mess back at that tree. The police will be checking the hospitals and the hospital would be asking you too many questions.” Anita nodded. “They’ll also be checking the FBI DNA files.“

“That can’t be helped. I checked Taylor out and he has no records, so he shouldn’t be in it. I don’t know about him.“ Anita nodded her head towards Jason.

“But if he saw you--” Lillian started. Tiko was shaking his head and Angie knew why.

“Jason won’t tell,” she told the other two women. “He’s got his own strict code of conduct. He stands by his friends and you saved his life.”

“Do you know him well enough to be sure?” Anita asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Tiko nodded vigorously as Jason the werewolf returned with several small towels and washcloths under his arm and a bowl of water in his hands. He placed them where Lillian could get to them easily and handed Angie a large plastic bag.

“For the bloody clothes, unless you’re going to throw them away,” he told her.

Lillian began her work. She cleaned Jason’s head wound as well as possible, requesting scissors to trim at least a small amount of hair from around the wound to make it easier to sew. She knew how the wereanimals felt about their hair and didn’t want to do a clean shave. Jason didn’t budge.

She thought for sure he’d awaken when she popped his dislocated shoulder back into place, but he didn’t. She saw his left wrist sitting at an odd angle and started on it.

“I’m still worried about his head.” She removed the white bracelet from his wrist and handed it to Angie. “He should be awake by now or at least be reacting to what I’m doing.”

“What if he does have a skull fracture?” Angie’s worry was evident. She fingered the bracelet like a worry stone. “Are we endangering him by not taking him to the hospital?”

“Maybe.” Lillian wrapped the wrist and hand to immobilize it, not having casting material handy since wereanimals healed too fast to need casting. She strapped his arm across his chest to keep it immobile as well. “We’ll give it a few hours.”

Lillian finished and pulled the comforter up over him to keep him warm. She motioned for them all to leave the room. Angie rushed into the bathroom to turn off the water in the sink and retrieve the bloody clothes after wringing them out, but left the light on incase Jason woke before they noticed. They left the room.

Mark listened to his adopted siblings grouse about the late hour of their meeting as they sat around the conference table and stared at the door, waiting for the Chief to come in. He had told them to come to this conference room, the smaller one, so it wasn’t going to be a meeting with any other people.

He looked at his bracelet, pressing one of the side buttons to get the time as Tiny and Don began to argue about the upcoming NBA finals. Sometimes, Mark thought Don picked fights just for the sake of it.

It was eleven thirty, over half an hour since he had spoken to Jason. Princess noticed him looking at the time and leaned towards him.

“You told him we were having a meeting, right?” she asked. He nodded. “He’ll probably wait a while to call back.”

“Yeah. Knowing him, he‘ll wait until he’s sure I’m asleep just so he can wake me up.” That was possible. Jason did have a warped sense of humor.

Before they could talk more, the door opened and Security Chief Anderson entered the room, a pile of folders under his arm. He looked harried, which was unusual for a man who was always meticulous. He always wore a three piece suit when he worked. The vest was unbuttoned and his shirt rumpled.

“Chief, why did we have to do this now?” Keyop whined, regressing from his age of newly fifteen back to six.

“It’s not like you need a beauty sleep,” Don snapped at him, his own irritation evident, but instead of directing it at the Chief, as they rest of them would, he directed it at their youngest.

“I’m sorry for the hour, too, but I felt it necessary to pass this information on right away,” Anderson told them, laying the files down on the desk in front of his seat. The pile was so tall the top folders began to slide down across the table. He looked at each of them, knowing what their reaction was going to be to what he had to tell them, especially Keyop.

His tone of voice was all business. Mark frowned and sat up straighter, his heart suddenly speeding up.

“What’s up, Chief?” he asked, no longer tired.

Anderson opened his mouth, only to have his first words drowned out by five high pitched chirps. Everyone immediately raised their left arms to look at their bracelets and then looked at each other in confusion, except for Mark.

“That’s a Bird Scramble. Are we testing our bracelets?” Tiny asked, frowning at the G-Force symbol flashing on the faceplate of his bracelet.

“No, it’s Jason. Dammit! I knew something was wrong,” Mark said, getting to his feet, his eyes flashing. The Chief looked at him pointedly.

“Explain,” he ordered, his role as the Controller for G-Force taking over.

“I called him a little while ago and he had to cut off our conversation because he said he was being followed. He said he’d call back but he hasn’t,” he reported. “That was about forty-five minutes ago.”

“Have you tried calling him back?” Anderson asked. Mark shook his head.

“I thought for sure he‘d call back in a few minutes.”

“Jason would never hit his Bird Scramble unless he was in real trouble,” Princess said, her voice strained.

“And it takes a lot for him to be in real trouble,” Keyop added.

“Could Galactor have found him?“ Mark asked pointedly. The others frowned but the Chief had had the same thought on his mind. When he had brought Jason to live with him and Mark so many years ago, he had told Mark Jason’s parents were murdered and the people who had done it wanted Jason dead, too. That was why he had changed Jason‘s name and brought him to the United States from Italy. It wasn’t until years later that he had told Jason who he believed the murderers to be and Jason had revealed a short time later that he had shared the information with Mark.

Anderson reached for the phone on the table in front of him and dialed a number.

“Activate the Command Center. G-Force is on Red Alert,” he said into the receiver and quickly hung up. He looked at his children, seeing a mix of worry and anger in their faces. He could imagine the worried look was on his face, too. Princess and Keyop were right. Jason would never have activated his Bird Scramble call for help unless he had no other choice.

“G-Force, prepare for launch. Find Jason and find out what happened. If it is Galactor, you know what to do,” he ordered. All five snapped to attention from long practice and saluted, bringing their right arms up across their chests.

“Roger,” they chorused and then rushed from the room. He wasn’t far behind them.

**********

Anita heard numerous male voices and recognized the new ones as belonging to Richard and Jamil, one of Richard’s bodyguards. She walked down to the receiving room and found both men conversing with Jean-Claude and Asher.

Richard was six foot one and muscular. He had short brown hair and brown eyes. The hair used to be long and wavy, but he had cut it during an episode of severe depression. He had gotten over the depression and was allowing his hair to grow back out. It was long enough to curl at the ends again, framing his very masculine face. He enjoyed the outdoors and was tan from hours spent outside. He was in a rust colored button down shirt, black jeans, and worn brown cowboy boots.

Jamil was Richard’s height. He was in a white suit, a stark contract to his dark skin. A green shirt, white tie, and white patent leather shoes completed the outfit. His hair was in long cornrows to his waist with white and green beads weaved into it as decorations. He looked as though he had been going out, but Anita’s call had interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, Richard,” she said as she came to his side. He looked down at her, his eyes tired. “I wish it hadn’t been Taylor.”

“No, you did the right thing,” he told her, sighing as he said it. “He was killing people. He had to be stopped.”

“Where’s this guy he attacked?” Jamil asked, looking in the direction she and the others had come from. Both Tiko and Angie moved around to stand next to Richard. Tiko licked Richard’s hand and Angie lowered her head in submission. Richard acknowledged both if them with a nod of his head.

“He’s in Jason’s bed.”

“With at the very least, a severe concussion and broken wrist,” Lillian added, taking one of the white leather seats. “I didn’t see any sign Taylor had bitten or scratched him.”

“He didn’t,” Anita told them. “He didn’t get a chance.”

“That’s good,“ Richard said in relief. “I’d like to see Taylor’s body.” Jean-Claude inclined his head to the other third of his and Anita’s triumverate of power and guided them out of the room, back down the hall to the door at the end of it. It was a storage room. Laying in a corner was the blanket covered body.

Jamil bent and reached down, grasping the blanket to pull it off the body. Taylor was in his human form and nude. Whenever a wereanimal died, it returned to its human form. The body was riddled with bullet holes and there were nine feathers sticking out of his shoulders and neck.

“What the hell are those?” Richard asked, crouching down. He reached for the one that had a black tip and pulled it out of Taylor’s throat. They were all immediately assaulted with an almond smell.

“He used them on him. Tiko indicated he knew what they were, but he was already in wolf form. Do you know what they are?” she asked Jamil. He nodded, crouching down beside his Ulfric.

“They’re feather shuriken, a martial arts weapon. You don’t see them in the States often.” Richard cautiously brought the black tip towards his nose and sniffed, then recoiled.

“This is cyanide.” He turned to Jamil, frowning. “These things can be laced with poison?”

“I guess so. I’ve never seen them up close before.” Jamil pulled one out, lifted his head to look at Anita. “This guy could be military.” He saw Angie and Tiko shaking their heads.

“No way. Jason’s been our housemate for years and he’s about as anti-authority as people can get. He’s in college with us. He has shoulder length hair.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t military,” Jamil countered, but got more head shaking in response.

“He’s our age.”

“He could be lying. No human’s going to go up against one of us unless he thinks he can win.”

“We are not sure he is human,” Jean-Claude said, motioning with his head at Asher. The tall blonde took the hint.

“I could feel power from him. A cool power, like ours. He is not a wereanimal nor a vampire, but he felt…familiar.” He tilted his head in Anita’s direction. “He feels like Anita.”

“A human servant?” Richard mused, standing up with the shuriken still in his hand.

“That’s not possible,” Angie insisted, her face animated in disbelief. “He goes to the clubs, but he avoids vampires like the plague.”

“Do you spend twenty four hours a day with him?” Jamil asked, also standing up. Angie had to shake her head.

“Of course not.“

“Then how do you know for sure?“ Jamil wanted to know.

“What does he do?” Anita asked.

“He’s an Engineering student, like us. He’s in most of our classes. He spends his free time at the race track. He drives a race car on weekends. He’s good. He’s been approached by NASCAR three times this fall alone.“ At there disbelieving look, she huffed with growing anger. “I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s some vampire’s human servant! His adopted father is very anti-vampire and that’s rubbed off on him. I‘ve never even seen him talk to a vampire.”

“Does he have unusual visitors?” Angie shook her head.

“No. He hangs out with us. When he does go out, he usually isn’t out that late. And he suffers from knock down drag out migraines. Servants don’t suffer from normal human ailments, do they?”

Anita’s eyebrows rose as she looked at Jean-Claude. As far as she knew, that was correct. Servants could be injured but like wereanimals, were immune to illness. She hadn’t so much as suffered from a cold since becoming Jean-Claude’s servant. On the other hand, though, she couldn’t keep count the number of times she’d been injured. She thought.

“Does he have a girlfriend?” she asked.

“He’s been dating Kendra on and off since fall,” Angie told them.

“Kendra? Our Kendra?” Richard asked. Angie nodded. “She never said she was dating a human.” His disapproval rolled off him and Angie took an involuntary step back. He had enacted the policy that any of his wolves who were dating humans had to report it to him. Not all werewolves had enough control over their beasts to not loose control during sexual activity. It was the most common cause of were infections; a werewolf changing during intercourse and either infecting or killing their partner by accident. Richard wanted to avoid such problems and had named an Eros and Enos to teach new werewolves how to control their beasts during intimate encounters. He would have to have a little talk with Kendra.

“Is it possible he doesn’t know he’s been marked?” Anita asked towards the two vampires. Both gave her their meaningless shrugs that could mean anything. “You can tell if he’s been marked.” Jean-Claude nodded.

“Oui. I do know the names of most of the servants in the United States, as the other Masters of the City’s know you are my servant.”

“But any Master that is strong enough can have a servant. Does every Master of the City know if members of his or her kiss have servants?” Jean-Claude folded his arms over his chest.

“I know which of my kiss have servants, but that is my way. I cannot speak for the others. What is his name?” he inquired. Angie stepped forward again after looking at Richard first, but his attention wasn‘t on her.

“Jason Anderson,” she told them. “He’s from New York City. He told us he was adopted and his adopted father’s some big wig in the UN.”

Anita could see Jean-Claude stiffen and the mask she had seen rarely of late slip over his features. She moved to his side.

“You know who he is,” she stated. His sapphire blue eyes appeared unfocused as he stared at the door leading to the hallway. “Jean-Claude?” she prompted. He seemed to shake himself and blinked.

“Ma petite?” he asked back. She frowned, wariness filling her stomach.

“You reacted to the name. You know him?” she repeated.

“Non. He is not a human servant as far as I know.”

“Then why did you react?”

“I believe he may be the son of Dr. Matthew Anderson, the Director of the International Science Organization, a branch of the UN.” Angie’s eyes lit up and Tiko woofed.

“That’s his name,” Angie said.

Anita drew back and stared hard at her lover.

“Since when do you know anything about the UN, let alone anyone who works there?” she asked. Jean-Claude ignored her for a moment to watch Richard crouch back down to remove the remaining feather shuriken from Taylor’s body. They were hard and unyielding, but he managed to hold them in one hand. He kept the black one laced with poison in his other hand, holding it carefully.

“I suggest we return to the sitting area,“ Jean-Claude said, “if you are done for now?“ Richard stood and nodded as Jamil bent to cover the body with the blanket again. They left the storage room, closing and locking the door behind them.