Werewolves: The Gravediggers pt. 6

This story features Dena's father, Jaci, and takes place several years before the events of 'Werewolves: Haven Rising.' 

[If you haven't yet read parts 1-5, click on the Collections tab and select 'Werewolves' to find the previous installments of this story.]

Jaci leaned back against the medical building's wall and watched Delsin get into the transport with his military escort. He had reverted to human form and his face was well hidden in the shadows of his camo-patterned poncho. The weather hadn't quite decided yet if it wanted to have pity on the soldiers laboring beneath its downpour, and while it showed signs of abating, there was still more than enough rain to explain his lack of a proper uniform if he were seen and interrogated.

 He breathed a sigh of relief once Delsin was away. The wolf was his friend, yes, but lately he'd seen less and less of the packmate he'd known for so many years. He could still taste the lingering bitterness from the shell of the pill Nurse Shaw had given him. It was easy enough to wedge it between his muzzle's back teeth until he had an opportunity to palm it and hide it away deep in his coat pocket. Unfortunately by that point a portion of it had dissolved and been washed down by his wolf form's saliva, but the effect was minimal and his mind still felt sharp, his vision clear. He had a mission and he needed to be in his right mind if he wanted to be successful.

 Delsin knew what happened to Sahale; Jaci was sure of that much. His friend was lying to him, but no matter what tack he used to probe for weakness in the wolf's story, he couldn't quite budge the walls built up to spare himself from the truth. The mere fact that Delsin was doping up his inner beast to numb the pain was more than enough proof for him that whatever happened to their companion had been too horrible for him to deal with in any other way. The wolf that Jaci knew before their imprisonment would never have indulged in mind-altering substances so recklessly. The abuse was so egregious that for a while he'd believed it was an unspoken message meant for him to unravel. Today's conversation had proved otherwise—Delsin's true self was gone, replaced by something alien that knew it was angry but couldn't seem to put the pieces together as to why. There were glimmers of his fiery personality still in there—no pills could suppress the inner beast's rage for long—but his moments of lucidity were fleeting at best. His wife always managed to bring out the best in him, so Jaci decided to let him get home to Tama and go about this thing he needed to do alone.

 He peeked out again from beneath his hood. No soldiers in sight. Good. He started walking, just fast enough to get where he needed to be quickly while avoiding the overt appearance of haste. He only encountered one other person before he reached the administration wing, and the man was dressed much the same as he was. The soldier offered a cursory nod before scurrying on to reach his destination, more interested in avoiding a thorough soaking than he was in idle conversation that might have revealed Jaci's true identity.

 The lanyard he'd lifted from the nurse's desk drawer felt like it was burning a hole through his palm when he pulled it out and swiped the card clipped to it against a black plastic pad beside the entry door. The panel issued a beep and the small light beside it turned green. A second later he heard a sharp click as the door unlocked. He opened it and stepped hurriedly into the entryway beyond before anyone else could notice him.

 The administration wing wasn't an area of the base that Jaci was intimately familiar with like the medical building or the waste disposal facility, but he'd been sent here on errands often enough to know the basic layout. He slipped through the main hall and into the smaller corridor leading to the IT department. He paused for a moment before opening the door to the server room. At this late hour it was unlikely that the area would be staffed, but after coming this far there was no sense in abandoning caution entirely. A deep breath filled his lungs and he held it there while he closed his eyes and focused on listening. The sound of soft-soled steps were barely discernable followed by a sigh as whoever was walking settled into a chair that creaked under their weight. Moments later he caught the clatter of a keyboard. These sounds would have been impossible for human ears to detect from behind the tightly closed security door—it wasn't only the werewolves' strength and healing capabilities that the humans coveted after all, his pack's senses were second to none and that always gave him the advantage over all but the most adept humans.

 Jaci opened his eyes, remaining still as he focused on the sound of the human working into the night on what he assumed must be an important or overdue project. That could work out to his advantage—someone with their eyes focused on a computer screen was easy enough for him to avoid, the tricky part would be getting through the door without making too much noise. He gave a preemptive wince as he held the key card against the reader panel next to the doorknob. Much like the outside door, this lock gave a gentle beep and the LED turned green as the lock clicked open. He twisted the knob and froze as he heard a creak of the chair through the door.

 "I'm almost done," a thin female voice dripping with barely-concealed irritation called through the crack in the door. "You don't need to check in on me every few minutes; I told you I was taking the situation seriously. I'm clipping the footage and sharing it with DC right now. There's nothing to worry about. I'll keep working 'till it's done."

 The tech sounded exhausted and frustrated beyond belief, and Jaci had no inclination to reply. With luck, she'd assume that the lack of response meant that her overbearing supervisor had decided to let her work in peace. Instead, Jaci pushed the door open ever-so-slightly and peered through the crack into the server room. He was just able to make out a desk on the left-hand side of the room where the industrious IT worker was busy editing a video. She grumbled to herself but didn't look back over her shoulder. He decided to push his luck and open the door just wide enough for him to slip through. Success! He eased the door closed behind him as quickly as he dared before ducking down and creeping between two tall racks of servers.

 What to do now, though? Accessing the information he needed would almost certainly draw attention—the room was dead quiet aside from the clattering keyboard and the clicks and whirs of server fans. He slinked through tight spaces between dozens of rack-mounted computers until he was on the other side of the room, far closer to the worker than he felt comfortable with. As far as he could tell, all of the workstations were in that area and it would be impossible for him to get there without being discovered. He ground his teeth as he resolved himself to wait patiently for the woman to finish her work and leave for the night. In the meantime, he focused his attention on her video editing.

 Jaci could see the computer screen clearly from where he was crouched, only partially obscured by the back of the human's head and tightly pulled back ponytail. She was wearing light blue button-down shirt that was obviously not any form of military uniform. Probably a civilian contractor, then. That was good to know. He resisted the urge to lean too far to the side while remaining hidden behind the servers. At first he wasn't sure exactly what he was looking at. The screen showed a security cam feed depicting a white room that could have been any one of two dozen generic accommodations in the medical wing. The woman dragged the bar at the bottom of the video to the right, fast-forwarding through the clip until several figures walked in, wheeling a gurney bearing a distressingly familiar corpse into the room. Sahale. A click of the mouse paused the frame and left Jaci's friend's dead eyes staring directly at him through the screen.

 Before he realized what he was doing, a rumble of anger formed in the back of his throat. The inner beast churned in his guts, making him feel sick. For once he was thankful for Delsin's drugs; without that small dosage he'd swallowed, he might have inadvertently attacked the woman sitting with her back to him, unaware of the danger. Well, unaware until he blew his cover with a growl. Crap. He wanted to swear at himself for allowing the vision of his dead friend to rattle him so badly, but in truth there was still a part of him that wanted to believe the body bag he buried had contained someone else—some other unidentified corpse. The humans had made mistakes before. But not this time. The woman began to turn in her chair.

Sahale was dead and Jaci was in deep shit.