Chapter five

Dr. Scott kept his promise. A half-hour later, an orderly arrived with a wheelchair, and we were going. As the elevator doors closed and we descended to the below-ground laboratory, I felt a shiver go down my spine. Part of me worried whether I'd ever be able to come back up.

The tests were not painful. An X-ray, a CAT scan, blood samples, and an MRI were all procedures I'd had before. When they returned me to my room and I crawled into bed, something inside of me calmed. I nearly sobbed with delight when Derek arrived a few hours later. He was holding a huge pizza with cheese and pepperoni! I grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him down for a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek as he placed it down on the bedside table.

"Sir, you've made my week. Thank you very much!"

He laughed and made a courtly bow that, in his jeans and t-shirt, should have looked ridiculous, but he did it with grace. "I am just yours to command, whatever the Lady wants."

I laughed and grabbed a lovely piece. It smelled amazing. Dr. Scott had placed me on ordinary food the night before, but hospital cuisine, even in a posh, private institution, left a lot to be desired. As I took my first mouthful, a faint sigh of ecstasy escaped me.

"I'm not sure how you sneaked this in, but I'd like to thank you again."

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, making me realize how ridiculous it sounded. Would you want some pizza?" His only response was a wicked smile as he reached inside the box and selected a slice for himself. We ate in blissful solitude (mainly. I still grumbled here and there) until the majority of the pizza was gone. When I realized I'd eaten around five pieces, I was startled.

Derek spotted my frown and guessed the reason, "You'll have a stronger appetite now. You've also done a lot of healing recently, which consumes fuel. Don't be startled; you're not eating like a wolf."

"She isn't, and she should have another piece." Dr. Scott entered the room and grabbed a slice of pizza, "but not this one."

He sat in the chair on the other side of my bed, grinning as he ate. "Have you informed him about this afternoon?" he said in between bites.

My head trembled. Derek was gazing at each of us with interest.

"She had a brief flashback. It wasn't anything serious, and I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she's freed." He turned his gaze to me, and it was evident that he was instructing me to remain quiet about what had transpired for the time being.

"We ran a slew of tests to assess how she was doing, and I'm happy to report that the findings were excellent. The stitches on her neck will need to be removed in three days, but you can do it on your own. I'll release you for processing tomorrow."

He got up to depart "Derek will go through what to anticipate during the processing procedure. I'll meet you in the morning to sign your paperwork. Thank you for bringing the pizza." He smiled at us and walked away.

I ate another slice of pizza carefully, wondering why I had to wait so long to tell Derek about the memory. Dr. Scott had to have a cause and didn't want to discuss it. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, but I wasn't going to disobey his requests either. Derek was upset and wanted to know more.

"You're okay, though?"

I shook my head, "I'm fine. So tell me about this processing tomorrow. Should I be worried?"

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "No, it's not a big deal. Are you familiar with the Witness Protection Program?"

I nodded, "Vaguely. They relocate people and give them new identities."

"Yes, in a nutshell. We'll meet with a government agent tomorrow who works for a similar program. The Federal Department of Justice and the United States Marshals Service conduct Witness Protection to safeguard witnesses in instances involving organized crime. That isn't redirecting here."

"Tomorrow's agent will be from a special relocation unit. I'm not sure what agency they're linked with, and I wouldn't ask. It was quite simple for a werewolf to restart his or her life before computers were commonplace. He or she relocated to a different part of the nation, purchased some documents, and settled down. It's practically hard to accomplish so in this day and age, with Social Security numbers, digital data, and breakthroughs in detecting counterfeit papers. The government, or at least some of it, has known about our presence for some time."

"Yes," I said, interrupting. "This afternoon, Dr. Scott told me some of it. How they aid in keeping us hidden to avert public hysteria."

He gave a nod. "Exactly. So the agent will offer you a new identification tomorrow. You will also be given some money to start anew. But there will be restrictions, and you must follow their regulations. If you don't, and they discover it, the repercussions might be fatal. Do you follow what I'm saying?"

"They'll murder me," I said quietly. "They'll murder me if I don't obey the rules."

Derek's face was solemn "They will, indeed. Their mission is to defend the United States of America. Werewolves being widely known would spark frenzy, rioting, and bloodshed. They're not going to let it happen." "You have to follow their guidelines," he said earnestly.

No, I would never see or speak to Samuel again. I couldn't bear the pain, so I buried it inside myself and began to construct a solid wall around it. I was terrified of becoming a werewolf, but I was much more terrified of dying. I'm afraid of killing my closest buddy due to my flaws. I'd do as the agency said, which meant letting Samuel go for good.

"So, where am I going? I have absolutely no idea." I pondered hard, but all I could think of was my typical fantasy, "I guess I could travel to the Bahamas."

Derek laughed "You could, but you wouldn't like it. Wolves dislike tropical regions because they are much too hot when you only wear fur once a month. You'll be accompanying me home. Not forever, but for a time. You can go someplace else if you've got your wolf under control and proved that you're obeying the rules. Consider it a halfway house where you will learn all you need to know for your new life. Of course, if you desire to remain and join my pack permanently, you are free to do so."

I wasn't entirely sure I liked that idea. I barely knew this man. Granted, he'd saved my life. And he was still here. He'd stayed with me in the hospital long after David had gone back home. We seemed to get along okay, even if he was so attractive that it made my belly jumpy. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible starting over in a new place if I knew (sort of) at least one person. "And where is home, exactly?"

"I live on the west coast in Oregon. There are a couple of big national forests in the area that give the packed room to run and I own quite a few acres of my own. It's pretty rural, but there are small towns nearby and it's only a few hours to Portland if you need to go shopping or something."

I sighed, "Given that I don't own a single thing right now, I would say that I need to do some shopping. I don't suppose I could ask you for a favor. Is there any way you could pick me up some clothes for tomorrow? I don't want to leave here in a stolen hospital gown."

An amused grin slid over his face, "I'll see what I can do. What size shoes do you wear?"

I kicked off my blankets and swung my feet off the bed. "Well, I used to wear a ten, but they don't look quite as big as they used to."

Derek nodded, "The wolf makes a lot of changes. Your whole genetic makeup is different now. Why don't we take that pad you've got and I'll get an outline of your foot? It won't be exact, but it should let me get you a pair of sneakers that will be close."

I tore a sheet of paper out of the pad and handed it to him. It tickled when he drew around my foot, but I managed not to giggle.

"Is that why my hair changed color, too? Because of the wolf?"

"Yes. When you change for the first time, the wolf settles in. When you changed back to human, the magic of that first shift allowed the changes of the wolf to manifest in your human form. Most of us turned in our twenties and there's not very much difference before and after. Your hair color reflects the color of your wolf. As a wolf, you are silvery white with a darker gray strip along your spine. White wolves are a rarity among us. You were going gray when you were attacked, right?"

I nodded, "The women in my family start at sixteen. I had a solid fringe in my bangs and I had silver streaks at the temples."

"I thought so. I think that's why your wolf is silver. You were already on your way; the wolf just finished the job." He grinned at me and I couldn't help but smile back.

"It looks a little odd with my young face."

"No, it doesn't." I raised one eyebrow at him; he had to be kidding. "It looks stunning. You're beautiful, Elizabeth. You were beautiful that night, covered in blood and dying in my arms. You're more so now."

That knocked the air out of me. I could tell from the way he was looking at me with his serious, intent gaze that he meant every word he said. I'd never thought of myself as beautiful. That he found me so, both before and after, was a revelation.

"I'm going to head out so I can pick up some clothes for you. Do you need anything else before I go?"

"Not immediately, no. They gave me a toothbrush, a comb, that sort of stuff. It should hold me until I get out of here. Thank you for the clothes, I'll find a way to pay you back someday."

Derek smiled and dropped a light kiss on my temple. "Don't even worry about it. As a new wolf, you're going to be fine. You don't owe me anything, now or ever. Got it?" I nodded and with another smile, he was gone.

The next day did not go well.

Derek arrived fairly early and dropped a Wal-Mart bag on the bed. Inside was a pair of sweats, underwear, socks, and a pair of sneakers. No bra. "I know it's not much, but I figured even if I guessed wrong that sweats would still fit. We can go shopping later to get you real clothes."

I wasn't about to complain. If the price of freedom was wearing baggy blue sweats, so be it. I scooped the clothes off the bed, grabbed my plastic tub of hygiene supplies from the hospital, and locked myself in the bathroom. Twenty minutes later I was clean, my hair was dry, and I was dressed in street clothes. The sneakers fit pretty well, which surprised me. When I was done, Dr. Scott was in my room with Derek.

"Ah, look at you! Ready to get out of here?"

"Yes, please."

He looked at my neck and gave Derek instructions on how to pull the stitches out in a few days. After Dr. Scott took care of signing my release papers, he told us where to go for processing and gave me a brief hug goodbye.

"You take care, now. I don't ever want to see you back in here again."

I grinned at him, "I'll do my best."

As we made our way to the main entrance, I worried about what would happen next. Derek must have been able to tell I was anxious because he touched my shoulder and told me to relax. There were two armed guards at the main entrance. After examining my release papers and looking through the bag Derek carried, one of the guards led us into a room. Once inside, he had me stand in front of a white screen and took a standard headshot photo. Then he fingerprinted me, recorded my hair and eye color, measured my height, and had me stand on a scale for my weight. I boggled a little when he told me my weight. I still couldn't get used to being so much lighter.

When he was done, the guard led us into a second room and told us the agent would be with us shortly. The room he left us in was a pretty standard conference room. There was a large table in the center of the room with a dozen or so chairs around it. It wasn't long before a door on the opposite side of the room opened and an older man joined us.

"I'm Special Agent Stanton and I'll be processing you today. Please have a seat."

He was brusque and very efficient as he unloaded a laptop computer, a portable printer, and a rather large file folder from his briefcase. It was evident that he wasn't a wolf because he was clearly in his mid-fifties. He wore a stuffy three-piece suit and his shoes were polished mirror bright.

"May I see your release papers, please?"

I handed them over and he flipped through them. He made me verify my basic data such as my name, age, date, place of birth, and social security number. It matched the display on his computer because he opened the file folder and handed me a bunch of documents.

"This is the document that explains the conditions of your release, your new identity, and what the United States government expects of you as a beneficiary of the relocation program. When you leave this room, Elizabeth Anne Summers will be dead. You will never use that name again, do I make myself clear?"

Agent Stanton was all but glaring at me, "You will not contact anyone who knew you as Elizabeth Anne Summers, nor will you ever return to any city in which you have lived. You will not frequent any of the places you used to shop, socialize, or congregate. Is that understood? The agency went to a great deal of trouble to help convince everyone Elizabeth Summers died on November 23, 2010. If we ever find any evidence that you have disobeyed these directives, you will be arrested and put on trial for breach of contract. If you are found guilty, the punishment is severe. Please read those documents carefully and then sign your name where indicated."

I took my time reading. I knew I didn't have any choice, but I wanted to be clear about exactly what I was agreeing to. In addition to supplying me with a new name, I would receive a new social security number, birth certificate, passport, driver's license, credit, and medical history, as well as a small personal biography that would serve as a basic background.

I would also be given a resettlement check to help cover the costs of starting over. The government was giving me $200,000. Roughly, four years of my former salary to replace everything I owned and get me started someplace new. However; I was forbidden to practice my former profession. Interesting, how in the hell was I supposed to earn a living? I guess that was my problem.

It wasn't until I got to the last page that things started to go bad. On the last document was my new identity. I read it three times to make sure I saw it correctly. It was hideous.

"It says here my new name is going to be Dolores Roberta Higgins. That's not a name I can see myself using. Would it be possible to pick something different?"

Agent Stanton grabbed the pages I had signed out of my hand, slitting my hand open with the edge of the papers. Like all paper cuts, it burned like a bitch. My temper started to simmer.

"No, it is not negotiable. You will use the name you are given whether you like it or not. I'm not here to negotiate, Ms. Higgins. I'm here to get your signature, now sign the form."

I looked at the small drops of blood oozing out of the paper cut on my hand. Between the blood and hearing him call me Ms. Higgins, my temper hit a flash point in one second flat. I stood up and slapped my bleeding hand down on top of his stupid form.

"Like hell, I will, Agent Stanton. It's going to be my name. It's going to be my life. And I'm going to damn well have a halfway decent name."

Agent Stanton stood up and leaned over the table to look me directly in the eyes. I could feel the low, rumbling growl beginning in my throat. That bastard was in my face and the wolf inside me didn't like it one bit.

"You will sign that paper or you will never leave here. Never!" Agent Stanton bit out the words furiously and I felt a jolt of the white-hot fury of my own. "Is that clear, Ms. Higgins? If Dolores was good enough for my mother, it is good enough for you!"

The world began to blur as a snarl ripped out of my throat. My vision fogged briefly and my body shifted. For an instant, I was in a soundless fog. Then it was over and I was standing on the table with scraps of shredded blue sweatsuit lying around me.

I lifted my lip and snarled at Agent Stanton. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I had changed into a wolf and she wanted Stanton's blood. I growled again and took a step toward Stanton. But it wasn't me, it was the wolf. She was stalking Stanton and I had to get control.

I used every bit of willpower I had to force her back. She fought me and I felt my lips lift in another snarl. Stanton stumbled backward and fell into his chair. The moment startled me and jerked me out of my battle of wills with my inner wolf.

The anger surged back in and had me snarling. My wolf was furious at him for hurting us and she wanted to retaliate. Ruthlessly, I forced her back and took control of my body. She continued to snarl in my head and I hung on to my control by the barest of threads.

Agent Stanton was cowering in the chair in front of me. My wolf wanted to attack, but I wouldn't let her. Still, I snapped my jaws at him a couple of times to let him know how pissed I was. Derek stood next to me, still in human form. He had a firm grip on my tail, trying to restrain me.

"I think everyone here needs to calm down." Derek's voice was firm but calm. "Elizabeth, you need to stop snarling and sit, please."

There was power in his words. My wolf settled down and I had myself more firmly in control, but I didn't sit.

"Elizabeth, sit," he commanded again. "Calm down."

I wasn't a damn dog but I couldn't ignore his command either. The power in his words forced me to obey. I shot him a look of disgust over my shoulder as I sat my butt down on the conference table.

Derek touched me on the shoulder and a feeling of peace rolled through me. My fury was gone and I was able to think clearly.

It was true. I was a werewolf.

One minute I was a pissed-off woman and the next I was a snarling, enraged wolf. I hadn't believed Derek when he told me I was a werewolf. Now, I had to admit it was true ... and it scared me. A lot. I was still trying to process it and I almost missed what Derek said next.

"Now, Agent Stanton, you are not normally the agent who handles this type of thing. I know, because the agent who does this is a personal friend of mine. What he, as a werewolf, grasps, that you do not is that werewolves don't like being challenged, nor do they like being injured."

Derek's face was cold and hard as he leaned over the table to speak to Agent Stanton. "Ms. Summers is showing remarkable restraint in not attacking you, but she has plenty of reason to do so."

He slid the blood-smeared page across the table to Stanton.

"You sliced her hand when you jerked those papers away from her, then you leaned over the table and got in her face. The regular agent would never have done either of those things."

"Given that you've made some very stupid mistakes and put yourself in danger, you have two options. You can rethink your stance on the name you've assigned and reach a compromise with Ms. Summers," Derek continued grimly, "or you can get another agent in here who understands what being a werewolf is like. That is if she lets you out of here alive. So what's it going to be?"

Stanton swallowed quickly and seemed to be doing some rapid thinking. After a moment he nodded his head, "I believe perhaps we can compromise and find a name she finds more acceptable."

Derek nodded once, "An excellent choice. Would you mind turning your back for a moment please, Agent Stanton? She's going to need a moment of privacy when she returns to human form."

Stanton looked at me nervously, "She won't attack me, will she?"

"No, I won't let that happen. As her Alpha, I will keep her from attacking you." I turned my head and lifted my lip at Derek. His look was stern and serious. He wasn't playing around and I wondered just how much control he had over my wolf. He waited until Stanton turned his back and then rolled his eyes a little.

"Elizabeth, would you please shift back now?" There was no command in his words, just a polite request.

Uhm, I'd love to shift back to human, but how? I didn't have the first clue and a small whine escaped from me as I tried to figure it out.

Derek understood my dilemma, "Just relax, take a deep breath, and concentrate hard on being human. The magic should do it automatically."

I took a deep breath and tried to picture myself as I looked in the mirror. I put all my will into that thought and concentrated on becoming human. It took me a long moment, but I felt the world begin to melt and shimmer around me. I ended up crouched on the table completely naked.

My face felt hot and I was pretty sure it was bright red with embarrassment. I guess my clothes weren't going to magically reappear. That part of being a werewolf would take some getting used to. Derek stripped off his shirt and handed it to me. I hopped off the table and put it on as quickly as I could. He was a lot taller than me and broader in the shoulders, so the shirt was big. Even so, it just barely grazed the tops of my thighs.

Derek tossed me an extra pair of panties and a pair of socks out of the Wal-Mart bag and I slid them on. I sat down quickly and mourned the loss of my new sweatsuit and sneakers. They lasted all of an hour.

"You can turn around now, Agent Stanton."

As he turned around, Stanton shot me a fearful look and sat down. "I apologize for cutting you, Ms. Summers. It was an accident."

I didn't want to make it nice, but if it got me a better name then I'd do it. "Thank you. I'm sorry, too. I'm still very new to this and my control needs work."

"Yes, well," Stanton cleared his throat, "do you have a name in mind?"

I looked at Derek helplessly. I had no clue. Once again, he came to my rescue, "How about Kimberly? It's not quite as nice as Elizabeth, but I think it suits you."

Kimberly. Hmm. It wasn't bad. I could see myself using that name. But I needed a middle and last name, too. "May I keep Anne as my middle name? It's a very common name."

Stanton frowned, "It's not something we normally do, but if you changed the spelling to A-N-N, I think I could agree to that. And for the last name?"

Derek spoke, "Sparks. Kimberly Ann Sparks. After all, Elizabeth Summers died in a fire, right? A fire starts with sparks, and you're just getting started." Derek looked at me, "If you don't like it, you can pick something else. I just like the idea of it."

Kimberly Ann Sparks. "I do, too. I think that's a good name. Is it acceptable for your purposes, Agent Stanton?"

He nodded and typed it into his computer. His printer spits out a new form and I dutifully signed it. He took the bloodied one and tore it into two pieces. He stood and started packing up his computer. "Your documents will arrive at Mr. Michael's home in a few days. I have decided that you'll be staying with him for the time being so I listed that as your address. You can change it later if need be. I think that's all that's needed for today."

"Since Ms. Sparks is unable to fly commercially without identification, there will be a car waiting for you outside. Mr. Michael, if you'll give the driver your keys, he'll transfer your bags and return your rental later today. The car will take you to a small private airstrip and you'll be flown back to Portland. Ms. Sparks, we'll be keeping track of you for a while until we're sure you're keeping your end of the bargain. Have a safe journey." He nodded at us once and was gone.

I looked at Derek and huffed out a breath, "That could have gone better."

"It also could have gone much, much worse. That man is lucky to be alive. Come on, I want my shirt back so let's go find you a couple of hospital gowns to wear home."

God damn it. So much for not leaving in a stolen hospital gown. Still, I was treated to an excellent view of Derek's bare back and finely toned, jean-covered butt. I tugged his shirt down a little lower to hide my own and grinned as we went in search of a gown.