Bernie Klein walked over to the chair where the Man of Steel sat, draped over it as limp as a wet dishrag. His breathing was shallower and more rapid than normal, too. The superhero was kneading his hands together as if trying to wring quantum energy from the atmosphere.
Bernie put his hand on Superman’s shoulder. “Just a half-hour or a little less, then we’ll be done.” Superman didn’t lift his head. “Honest. Just two more exposures of the mutating cells to your aura and I’ll have all the data I need.”
He still didn’t look up. “And then you’ll be able to cure Lois?”
Bernie sighed and removed his hand. “I won’t know that for certain until I analyze the results, but the preliminary data looks very promising. I believe we’ll be able to reverse her condition without permanent harm.”
“You’re sure?”
Bernie hesitated, then said, “No, I’m not sure. I am quite hopeful, though.”
Superman’s hunched his shoulders and leaned forward. “I just hope we’re in time.”
“What? Why would you say something like that?”
Superman leaned back in the chair and lifted teary eyes to his scientist friend. “You knew about our mental link, didn’t you?”
Bernie nodded. “I know it’s not like an on-demand telephone hookup, but you can send little snippets of information back and forth.”
The hero’s hands lifted to his eyes and traveled down his face to his chin. “For the last two hours or so, I’ve been getting some ‘little snippets’ from her. Mostly it’s about her emotional state.”
Puzzled, Bernie said, “You say that as if it were a bad thing.”
He stood and faced the wall, away from Bernie. “Right now, she’s both excited and a little scared, about like she is when she’s getting close to cracking a dangerous case or catching a crook in the act. There’s also little hints of something more, something I’ve never gotten from her before. It’s almost as if – as if she’s hungry for something, and it’s not food.”
“You told me she was in the hotel room and that she’d promised to stay there until you went back.”
He spluttered a sardonic raspberry. “With Lois, any promise to stay out of trouble automatically comes with the attached qualification that it won’t apply if there’s a really big story out there to be written up. That’s how she’s gotten a lot of her banners.” His face hardened. “That’s also why I’ve had to swoop in and rescue her so many times.”
Bernie inhaled deeply through his nose and stepped into Superman’s line of sight. “Then let’s finish these tests so you can go back to New Orleans and rescue her.” Bernie took the hero’s arm and dragged him over to the desk on which his notes and preliminary results rested. “I don’t want to be the reason you think you’re late for a rescue.”
Clark looked at his friend and smiled slightly. “Thank you, Bernie. Thank you very much.” Then he gestured at the desktop. “Come on, these results won’t record themselves.”
*****
Lois turned and smiled to the big man ten feet from her. She took in his regal bearing, his flat-rimmed black hat, his long duster, and decided this escapee from the Western movie villain factory needed to be deflated a little. “Hi. You must be the one they call the Patriarch. You mind if I just call you Pat? The other’s kinda archaic nowadays and pretty clumsy, too, don’t you think?”
Two other men stepped to the Patriarch’s side. The older one seemed just to watch her. “My lord,” the younger one snarled, “allow me to eliminate this – this irritant!”
“Hey! That could hurt a girl’s feelings! Be nice, buster!”
He took a step toward her. “Andre!” snapped the Patriarch. “Hold your place!” The younger man ground his teeth, but stepped back. “Now, young lady,” the Patriarch purred, “would you please explain yourself?”
Lois walked almost within his reach and stopped with her hands on her bare hips. “Sure. My name is Lois Lane. I’m a reporter with the Daily Planet. I’m here on assignment with my husband. We’re looking for werewolves, and surprise!” She waved her hands around, then put them back on her hips. “I think I’ve found the mother lode. So to speak, of course.”
The big man inhaled through his nose. After a moment, his eyes widened. “You are a member of Arthur’s pack?”
“Nope. I just came into these talents a few days ago. They’re turning out to be very useful. For instance, I followed you here.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Why?”
She frowned at him and said, “I just told you. I was looking for werewolves.”
The young man who’d begged to eliminate her slid to one side, obviously trying to sneak up on her. The Patriarch nodded. “I see. Do you believe that you will be able to write your story?”
This was working out better than she’d hoped. “As long as this guy—” she lifted her left hand and pointed at Andre “—doesn’t ‘eliminate’ me.” Her arm fell to her side. “And if he tries, I’ll have to hurt him.”
“As you did to Bernice and Nathan?”
“That’s on you, Pat. You sent them after—”
She broke off, spun away from Andre’s wild attack, then punched him in the kidney. He grunted hard and turned, his arms spread and his hands curled like claws.
Lois assumed a front stance, left leg forward and right fist back, her left hand extended, open and ready. He bluffed a charge and she shuffled to her left, then he approached again and she shuffled to the right. Andre smiled, showing his teeth, and charged directly at her.
Instead of dodging again, Lois met his attack with a straight right to the face and a left-hand knife strike to the throat, delivered at lightning speed and in bang-bang sequence. Andre stumbled past her and went to his knees, coughing and holding his neck with one hand. Lois stepped quickly to him and gave him a side heel kick to the back of the neck.
Andre flopped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
*****
Melody Brennan looked at Robert Gautreaux and shook her head as Lois jumped down from the second floor balcony. “That is one crazy lady, don’t you think? She must have bought those – clothes – before we rendezvoused. That had to be what she was carrying in that little bag.” Melody blew air between her teeth and almost smiled. “She sure has their attention now.”
He leaned back to make sure they were still in the shadowed area of the apartment. “I am not happy about this, Officer Brennan. Actions such as the ones Madame Lane has undertaken make it impossible for me to – for us to control the situation. We must now wait for her to do whatever it is she plans to do.”
Melody looked around her rifle’s sights at Lois’s taunting of the Patriarch. “I think she plans to commit suicide in a very bloody manner.”
Robert gritted his teeth. “If that occurs, we must make certain that her sacrifice is not in vain. Pass the word to lock and load quietly, and to pick a target but keep the index finger away from the trigger. No one is to shoot before I give the word.” He held her gaze for a moment, then took her hand in his. “If for some reason I am unable to give that word, I am counting on you to give it in my stead.”
Her eyes wanted to leak and her mouth wanted to voice a laugh of joy. She forced herself to maintain discipline and remain professional. He cared for her! He trusted her to watch his back! And he’d made her his second-in-command!
Somehow she tore he eyes away from his face and slipped backward to pass the word to the other groups of officers in the second floor apartments. No one objected to her delivering the message. Every man and woman simply nodded and checked weapons. A few pulled extra magazines from their cartridge belts and place them within easy reach.
She slipped back to Robert. “Have I missed anything?”
He pointed to the ground on either side of Lois. “She has defeated two werewolves from the Patriarch’s pack already. I believe – yes, a third now challenges her.” Melody watched, amazed, as Lois quickly dispatched the bigger and stronger man with moves a normal human could not duplicate.
Melody breathed a short prayer of thankfulness that Lois was already married. Melody could not stand fifteen seconds against one as skilled as she.
*****
Lois watched the man she’d just put down for a long moment, then turned to face her main opponent. “Okay, Pat, let’s get something straight, all right? You keep sending them at me one at a time and I’ll keep knocking them down. Nobody’s dead yet, but if your guys don’t give me time to control my strikes, that might change.”
“Enough!” roared the Patriarch. “Troublesome female! I will defeat you myself!”
Lancelot called out, “As human or wolf?”
The Patriarch turned and glared at him for a long moment. Roger crossed his arms and said, “Does it really make a difference, Lancelot? My lord the Patriarch cannot be defeated by either a small woman or a small wolf. He might not need to shift form to slay her.”
“You’re on, bigmouth!” Lois yelled. “Fifty bucks says he can’t beat me no matter what form he takes!” She looked at the Patriarch and smiled. “What’cha waitin’ for, bud, a in-graved invitation?”
The huge man swung a massive fist at her head, one Lois would later insist whistled through the air. She ducked and rolled to her right, away from his follow-up stomp. Her own foot lashed out before she stood up and struck him on the outer edge of his left kneecap.
The Patriarch stumbled slightly and bit off a cry of surprise. He straightened and glared, then gathered himself and leaped at the smaller woman.
Lois, who had assumed a ready stance as she’d withdrawn the kick, jumped to her left and kicked the big man in the floating ribs as she passed him. He crashed to the grass and bounced, then with an angry growl he leaped to his feet and roared at her like the Predator had roared at Arnold.
She stared at him for a long breath, then laughed.
Lois heard the muttering in the pack of Naturals, a few wondering why their lord had not already torn this fool stripper’s head from her body and feasted on her heart and liver. The Patriarch apparently heard it too – his head snapped in their direction and his eyes widened for a moment.
Then he turned back to Lois and gave her a cruel smile in return. “You had best come to some understanding with your maker, Lois Lane. You are about to die.”
She blew a raspberry at him and said, “Pictures or it didn’t happen!”
He didn’t answer. He just shifted form.
His clothes were either flung away or ripped apart as he transformed. In moments, the biggest wolf Lois had ever seen was drooling at her.
But he wasn’t looking at a human form. Lois had changed also.
His fur was jet black while hers was dark brown with silvery highlights. His tail might have knocked down a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, while hers might brush loose dirt off a stoop. His muscles rippled as he eased forward – hers bunched taut under her skin as she scampered back.
Even with her life on the line, Lois once again noticed the differences in her vision, her hearing, her sense of smell, her balance and perceived agility while in this form. She diverted some of her attention to her attire and found that the spandex shorts and elastic top had indeed stayed with her. True, they didn’t quite fit, and she might have a couple of embarrassing moments when she shifted back to human form, but it was better than being naked.
The huge wolf growled long and low at her, then lunged forward with his jaws open. She waited until the last nanosecond, then skipped to the side as his head tracked her movements and his teeth snapped together inches from her ear.
As he drew back to snap again, she lunged at him and gave him a bloody bite on his left side. He whirled and snarled and charged again, and she leaped aside again. She lunged at his near hind leg – the same one she’d kicked as a human – and bit the joint hard. The big wolf went to the ground with Lois on top, and he curled at his middle to rip out her entrails with his jaws.
She dodged away and howled at the big wolf. She hoped it sounded like she was mocking him.
Apparently it did. The larger pack gasped almost as one. Guess nobody ever dared to taunt him before, Lois mused.
She heard one of the two who’d flanked the Patriarch just moments ago call out, “My lord, allow me to assist!” The big wolf glanced to his right at the man and snarled, then turned back to Lois.
Who, once again, wasn’t there.
It seemed that when it came to fighting, these werewolves knew only face-to-face brute strength and ferocity. They didn’t appear to understand that a number of quick, sharp blows to a vulnerable spot were just as painful and debilitating as one hammer blow. This time she raked his left side with her rear claws while balancing on one forepaw. It was the same side she’d bitten earlier, and he jerked away with a roar of pain and anger. She took advantage of his loss of focus to bite that hind leg once again.
Before his jaws could close on her, she skipped away again. Her Tai Kwan-do and Yi Chi training was coming in very handy. True, due to her lack of thumbs she couldn’t use everything she knew, but she could adapt enough techniques to her wolf form to slowly win this fight. And the Patriarch knew it. She could see it in his beady eyes.
Then the moment she’d been waiting for came.
*****
The Patriarch had suffered enough. The bites on his leg and the bleeding tears against his ribs would heal in minutes – if only he could keep this insufferable upstart from repeating her blows against him. Or if he could close with her and rip her throat out.
But it didn’t appear that she would allow that to happen.
He paused for a moment and weighed his options. He could continue the wolf-on-wolf battle and eventually overpower her, but that would take too long and would exhaust him, leaving him vulnerable to an attack by another. He could already feel the strain on his body’s resources.
He could resume his human form, challenging her to do the same, but she had already proven that she could dish out punishment and evade his attacks in that shape also. His endurance in human guise was not superior to his wolf’s remaining strength, and he doubted he could defeat her quickly as a human. It was probably his worst option.
But he had to win, and it had to be done quickly. He didn’t want to reveal his beast form to his followers or to Arthur’s band at this time, but it seemed he had no choice. That form was his secret weapon, the ace up his sleeve, the dagger in his boot. He would assume it and rip her whining body apart with his jaws.
He backed up and shifted.
It hurt – it always had – but he persevered until he stood, towering over the other human shapes, ready to reach out and destroy this stinging gnat. He would—
There was no wolf before him. Nor any human.
For the first time in his long life, he faced another beast like himself.
*****
Lois saw the shock in the Patriarch’s eyes and lunged at him before he could shake out of his shocked stupor. Her left fist smashed into his torso, followed immediately by her right hand thrusting up at his lower jaw. The heel of her hand struck the underside of his mouth, and she both felt and heard the bone in his mandible crack.
He staggered back a step and Lois knelt to launch a spinning round kick at his calves. Her right heel impacted his right lower leg and tore his foot from the ground. Before he could regain his balance, she leaped up and kicked him in the same side she’d punched earlier, then came down and punched him twice more in the same place. She felt bones crack beneath the blows.
The back of his right hand swung and caught her skull just above where the temple would be on a human, barely in front of her ear. She went down, stunned, and rolled away, scattering Arthur’s band from the center of the clearing. By the time she regained her feet, the Patriarch was on one knee facing to her right, holding his side and visibly grimacing.
The fight wasn’t over and she knew it. She waited for him to make the next move, taking the chance that he wouldn’t allow himself to appear to be injured worse than he really was. And she needed the time to make both of her eyes focus on the same target.
He finally lurched to his feet and limped toward her, his right elbow held against his side as if protecting his ribs. She could use that.
She faked to his right, got him to turn that direction, and danced to his left. Before he could react she kicked the knee on that side, the one she’d bitten as a wolf. She felt the ligaments rip and tear, heard bones snap, saw his eyes roll up in his head with the pain.
He crashed to the earth with a groan and a grunt.
For a tiny moment – no longer than a few microseconds – she braced herself to leap on him and crush his throat with her jaws. It would be easy. He was badly bruised, had at least three cracked ribs, a broken jaw, deep bloody scratches on his left side, broken bones and torn ligaments in his knee. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself from an attack by a timid chihuahua puppy.
She could take the Patriarch’s throne from him. It would be easy.
And none of his pack would help him now. She’d kill him and assume her place as their pack leader and make them stop killing humans. The thought of ruling them all made her giddy. She swept her eyes across the werewolves in human form before her and bared her fangs. None of them would dare challenge her. None could defeat her.
All she’d have to do is change into the beast—
And with that thought, realization came as a wave crashing over her.
She couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t. It would solve nothing and present far more problems to her than she could handle. Not to mention how Clark would react when he learned that she’d taken the Patriarch’s life. No, killing this madman was not the answer for her.
She’d beaten him in combat, beaten him soundly, in each of his three forms. He wouldn’t dare offer to fight her again so soon. She’d offer her protection to Arthur’s band for however long it took to separate the two packs. And maybe Bernie would know how to free her from this – curse? Disease? Condition? Blessing?
If not, she knew she’d eventually have to change into the wolf again – she’d be forced to by her animal nature. She let herself consider how Bill Henderson would react when he found out that a werewolf was haunting the Metropolis night, protecting the innocent and challenging evildoers. Oh, yeah, the hilarity would last until somebody pulled out a pistol and shot her in the head. Then Clark would have to bury her in the local pet cemetery.
She sobered quickly. That thought was all it took for her to make the decision. If Bernie could remove this – whatever – that made it possible for her to change species, then she’d do whatever was necessary to make it happen.
She shifted back to her human form and stared at the fallen Patriarch. Suddenly Jane and Teresa appeared to either side of her, their hands tugging on her top to cover her breasts. She realized what they were doing and lifted her elbows until they finished.
“Thanks, ladies. I guess I got distracted.”
Jane grinned at her. “No problem, Lois. We’ve all had that problem. You should try distracting your husband that way when you see him again, though. That’s a pretty neat trick.”
“I’m not so sure he’d think it’s that neat. Maybe I’ll just stick to being a normal woman around him.”
“You wear that outfit and he’ll love it. Not sure I like the color combination, though.”
Lois chuckled briefly. “It was all I could find on short notice.”
“Miss Lane?” Teresa cleared her throat. “I – it appears that I owe you a most sincere apology.”
Lois frowned in confusion. “An apology? What for?”
Teresa tensed and said, “It appears that I spoke wrongly when I said that the – the creature form you took last was not possible to assume.”
“Ah.” Lois grinned. “Not a problem, Teresa. At least I didn’t lose all my self-control.”
She held Teresa’s startled expression with her eyes for a moment, then chuckled again. Teresa slowly smiled back and relaxed ever so slightly.
Lois wondered how long it had been since the woman had smiled at anyone or anything. Then she looked at the Patriarch again and met his pain-filled gaze. She took a step forward and resumed her hands-on-hips pose. “I think you owe me fifty bucks, pal. And I’m not taking your check.”
This time Teresa led the laughter.
*****
The Patriarch couldn’t believe what had happened to him.
He lay defeated, at his opponent’s mercy. And he knew that few, if any, werewolves understood the concept of mercy. Surely this one, so recently Turned, would not refrain from ending his life as he lay helpless before her.
He waited for her killing blow – a blow which did not land.
His gaze rose to view Lois Lane in human form again, laughing softly with two of the females in Arthur’s band. He heard her taunt concerning the wager she’d suggested and the louder laughter which ensued. None of that small group appeared ready to attack him in his defenseless state.
He still could not believe the fight’s outcome.
He managed to turn his head and saw Andre coughing and struggling to stand straight. The Lane woman’s blows had injured him also. He called to his lieutenant. “Andre?” he croaked. “Andre, I require your assistance.”
Instead of helping him, Andre gave him a look of pure hatred. From behind him, Roger said, “I do not believe that either of us will assist you in rising, my lord. You must stand on your own.”
The huge beast sank back to the ground and began shifting back to human form. Despite the pain, he forced himself to be silent. When he was almost finished changing, he growled, “Give me a few minutes to heal and I will continue the combat with this usurper.”
“Ah, but she is not intent on replacing you, my lord,” Roger said smoothly, “else you would now be carrion. If you were to battle a true usurper, that one would have to come from within your own pack.”
The Patriarch’s eyes widened of their own accord as the import of Roger’s words hit him. If he did not rise to defend himself against Roger, and possibly both Roger and Andre, he would not only lose his position in the pack, he would be killed where he lay.
It would not happen today!
With a massive force of will, he stumbled to his feet. His injuries had not yet healed, yet he would momentarily be forced to fight his lieutenants to the death. But he would face the challenge, not allow it to come to him as if he were helpless as a newborn cub. He would fight, and fight well.
He would not die quietly. In fact, he did not plan to die at all.
*****
Jane read the situation and realized they were too close. “Arthur!” she whispered fiercely. “Move everyone back!”
Arthur met her eyes and nodded, then carefully touched Lancelot, Guinevere, and Alphonse in turn. When he had their attention, he gestured with his head for them to follow him. He retreated at least twenty feet before he apparently judged the distance sufficient.
Jane, meanwhile, had gotten Teresa’s attention and started her to join the others. Lois, however, didn’t respond to Jane’s increasingly more intense tugs on her arm. “Lois!” she whispered in the other woman’s ear. “We need to get away from them before the fight starts!”
Lois turned and frowned. “What fight?”
“The fight to decide who leads this pack of Naturals!” She pulled Lois back two steps and continued at a lower volume. “Roger and Andre will probably attack the Patriarch together and try to kill him. If they succeed, they’ll either announce that they’ll be co-leaders of the pack or they’ll turn and fight each other to the death. If they fight each other, it’s likely that each one’s followers will start fighting too, and we don’t want to get caught up in the melee. Now come on!”
Lois stopped and twisted away from Jane’s grasp. “That’s not why I fought him! I wasn’t trying to kill him or have someone else do it! I fought him to keep everybody from getting alive!”
“You can’t stop what’s about to happen! Now get over her and help me protect Alphonse and Guinevere! I can’t do it alone!”
Lois finally allowed herself to be pulled the rest of the way, but she kept looking back over her shoulder at the big man standing erect, daring his challengers to advance as if he were the dominant male of a large pride of lions. Jane looked and wondered how long the wounded Patriarch would last. There was something leonine in his stance, his appearance, as he struggled to keep both challengers in view before him. Jane almost felt sorry for him.
Almost, but not quite. Somehow, some way, the Patriarch would pay his blood debt to her this day. Jane had sworn it would be so.
