Heather sat on a bench in front of her gym locker with ice on knee. ‘This day is going from bad to worse,’ she thought. She’d been distracted enough through her morning classes. Then came gym or, more specifically, her gym teacher, Ms. McDonald. Brenda McDonald was one of the school’s gym teachers, its cheerleading coach and, now Heather knew, a werewolf.
Heather had seen far more of her and her mother’s other friends than she’d ever wanted to see while watching her mother’s homemade video the past night. She had spent the morning tying to imagine which of her classmates’ had werewolves for parents. From what her mother had told her, only Dita and her were destined to become werewolves as well, but Heather tried to keep from thinking about that. Every time she did, she heard her mother’s words from the ride to school.
“It is going to happen to you. You will grow fur; you will grow fangs and a muzzle. You ARE going to turn into a wolf on the night of October seventh, and yes, you probably will remain a wolf for a few days.”
Heather shuddered as those words rang in her head again. Then she looked at her knee.
She cursed her stupidity. She had been jogging around the track above the gym floor, trying to keep her head together when Ms. McDonald walked over to the bleachers where Gabrielle Durand was sitting. Gabby was the daughter of the French woman, Solange, who Heather had also seen wolfing out on the video. Gabby was a cheerleader and Brenda’s daughter, Rachel, came over and joined the conversation. In her heart, Heather knew they were probably discussing mundane matters like cheerleading practice or schedules, but when she saw them together, a werewolf and the daughters of werewolves, Heather’s mind wandered.
Heather was staring at them and not on her path, so she stumbled into the group of girls who were walking around the track gossiping rather than really exercising. She tripped over a pair of them and they all fell in a heap.
“Get off of me, you bitch!” one of the girls shouted.
Ms. McDonald ran up the stairs, and Heather tried to get up and start to run again, but her knee was twisted and scraped.
“Rachel, get some ice,” Brenda shouted.
Brenda grabbed a clean towel and covered Heather’s knee. Rachel arrived seconds later with the ice pack.
Heather had been allowed to go to her locker and get dressed for her next period. As she pulled her clothes on, she noticed that her knee had stopped bleeding. She sat for a few moments with the ice bag in place. When she looked again, the scrapes were totally healed. There was no sign that she had been injured in the least! Her knee felt fine. The swelling was gone!
Heather thought of all the werewolf movies she’d watched and the legend of werewolves’ regenerative abilities and shuddered again.
She had lunch next period. Dita had promised to talk with her. This could be an interesting conversation.
Given her occupation as an undercover counter terrorist, Wendy’s cover was aptly suited for her current job. She was in her late 20’s and presented as a clerical worker in a non-descript government agency. When the club advertised for a receptionist, she was an ideal candidate. She told the office manager that she wanted to go back to school and needed a more flexible schedule with some evening hours. She was hired nearly on the spot. The job made it easy for her to watch the target and get to know the others in the club.
The door to the aerobics studio flew open and Wendy watched the participants file out. From the schedule, she knew it was an advanced class … and that the target was the instructor. One by one, the people who took the class staggered down the hall. Each of them was certainly fit, but each also looked thoroughly worn out by the rigorous regimen that Lisa had put them through. Every one of them was flushed and panting.
Every one except Lisa herself.
Wendy tried to look busy as Lisa walked down the hall toward her. Lisa reached up and pulled the tie out of her hair, letting her fiery red locks flow past her shoulders. Lisa was dressed in an exercise outfit that showed off most of her amazing body. She had on a halter style top that bared her firm abs and showed a fair amount of cleavage, leggings and thong. Wendy’s training told her to be objective as the subject approached, yet her heart began to pound in spite of herself. Wendy wasn’t sure if it was from fear based on what she knew this woman could become or from the excitement she felt from the attention of this vision of womanhood. Wendy had always been straight, but she felt a twinge of arousal as Lisa approached.
“Wendy, can I talk to you?”
“Sure, Ms. Deeter,” Wendy replied trying to hide the wavering in her voice.
“Call me Lisa, okay. Listen, I assume you’d heard that Rod left the club.”
Wendy feigned ignorance, but she had been thoroughly briefed about Rod. Given the surveillance the club was under, no one was hired, fired or left without coming under scrutiny. Wendy was, in fact, funneling the information on active club members to headquarters for a background check. Rod, however, was nothing to worry about. He had left to take a job in his old hometown.
“Well,” Lisa continued, “he’s left us short on instructors. I’ve seen you in some of the classes you’ve taken after your shift and you seem pretty good. Any interest in a promotion, so to speak?”
Wendy knew that a promotion might help with the investigation, but she needed to clear it with her superiors. “I’m not sure, can I have some time?” she asked.
“Wendy, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Join me for lunch and we’ll talk it over.”