THE HUNT

CHAPTER-TWENTY THREE

Kate emerged an hour later in Murdock's office, her face pale, her eyes red. She said nothing, she just took a seat in one of the seasoned, ebony leather chairs across from her boss, and placed her purple tumbler down on his desk.

"I was told, you weren't feeling well this evening," Murdock said, shifting his hulk size body in his chair, then leaned his chest forward, "That you visited the infirmary." He picked up the coffee mug and gradually raised the chipped mug to his lips.

She leaned back against the cool leather and crossed her feet underneath her chair. "I wasn't feeling well when I woke up this afternoon." Her hand reached for the tumbler and grabbed it, cupping the stainless-steel cylinder in her hands to warm up.

In the summer her father had always kept the thermostat on sixty-eight. She'd carried a blanket around throughout her childhood, not for so much for the security, but for basic warmth. "I just wanted to make sure, that I wasn't coming down with the flu."

"You should eat more," Murdock said, setting a tin of Scottish butter cookies down in front of Kate. "That's probably one of my biggest failures as your fa--superior--making sure that you eat. You need to take better care of yourself, Kate, I need my agents strong."

Kate didn't want a cookie, but she took one anyway, just too please him. In a way, she felt a connection with the elder werewolf. A parental bond Kate hadn't felt since she was eight years old.

That was the year her mother had been mugged, beaten, and stabbed. Her mother had fought hard for days--Kate could still remember the astringent smell of her mother's hospital room--but the blade's jagged edge had executed to much damage.

Kate's mother had pulled her close and told her that she loved her, would always love her. Then she pressed something into Kate's hand--a gold chain with a beautiful red stone.

"Wear it," her mother said. "Wear it and both the angels in heaven and I will be watching over you."

She'd immediately put the necklace on, liking the way it made her feel closer to her mom, yet hating what it meant. Because even at eight, Kate understood what was coming.

Robert had ushered her back into the hallway and sat on the mobile wooden bench beside her, clasping her hand in his, telling her over and over that their mother would rise above this terrible evil that had been inflicted on her.

Kate had reached up and rubbed the stone between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a wishing stone from a magical land. She'd nodded, silent, and then pretended Robert's words had made her feel better.

Of course, they hadn't. The stone, though. . . That she'd clung to, fiercely wishing for something she knew wasn't going to come true.

She'd sat there, listening to Robert's hopeful words, until her farther emerged hours later, his face without color, his eyes bloodshot.

He said nothing, just walked passed her and her brother. Robert took Kate into his arms, and she'd cried and cried, trying to find comfort in the normal, familiar smell of laundry detergent that permeated her brother's shirt.

The memory was still there with her, as strong as ever. But while she'd always miss her mother, the pain had faded. The necklace had become her talisman, but whether she was looking to her mom or to heaven, she could never truly say.

"You're not failing as my superior," she said after she swallowed the bite of cookie.

"You're very kind." He mumbled.

"But. . ." She trailed off mischievously.

"Ah, and here it comes. The other shoe dropping."

"If you do, it wouldn't be that you don't encourage me to take care of myself, it would be, that you encourage me to eat junk food." She lifted the buttery cookie, half of it now gone. "Not one of the basic food groups, Sir."