Meet Amber, a teenage girl struggling with the death of her father, an overstressed mother- and lycanthropy. All she wants is for her life to go back to normal, but a magical corporation has lost a valuable test subject and they believe Amber will b...
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Chapter Eleven
"That took longer than was expected, Dexter."
The woman who had spoken was... well, I'm not sure if she was really a woman at all. She wore an expensive looking suit and skirt, but there wasn't an inch of skin anywhere on her body. I found my feet frozen to the floor as I stared into her empty eye sockets, while her ivory white skull gleamed in the overhead lights.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Shavver," Dex said, bowing. When he stood up straight again, he gave my shoulder a painful squeeze and whispered, "Stop staring!"
With some difficulty, I managed to take my eyes off of her eerie grinning face. The other directors weren't much better to look at, though. The room was long and narrow, with a table that stretched all the way across it. Four people sat at the table... and I use the term "people" lightly.
"We have wasted enough time as it is waiting for you," another man said, pointing a clawed finger at an empty chair in front of me. His ghostly white skin was offset by the dark rings around his eyes, and his long golden hair. And when I say golden, I mean literally golden, as if he had hundreds of thin gold chains sprouting from his head. I nodded to him wordlessly, and sat down. Dex remained standing beside me, his hand still on my shoulder.
"So, this is the Silverblood everyone is talking about," yet another director said. Compared to the first two, this man actually looked human. An eight foot tall human, but a human nonetheless. He was wearing a fur suit, the kind mountain men wore in old western movies, and his iron gray beard fell to his chest. After looking at me, he turned to Dex. "She is every bit as beautiful as you said."
I shot Dex an incredulous look, and saw his face turn red. "I didn't..." he said, but then caught himself. "Yes, Mr. Wrogan."
The big man chuckled good naturedly, and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Both of them were big enough to wrap around my entire head, and probably strong enough to pop it.
The man sitting to Mr. Wrogan's right was staring intently at me, and I couldn't help but shiver. While his right eye was focused unblinkingly on me, his left was pointed at his lap. When he saw me looking at him, he grinned. His thinning hair was as white as his lab coat, and stuck out in every conceivable direction.
"Dr. Lacken," the golden-haired director said, bringing the old man's attention back to him. His eye wobbled in its socket when he turned. "What do you think?"
Lacken!
Hearing his name, the red vision Victor had given me flashed before my eyes again. The shadowy man standing in the background, telling Victor to pump more silver into my veins.
"Oh, yes, she is a Silverblood," Dr. Lacken said, standing up. His voice matched the one I remembered, and I had to stop myself from growling. "My assistant, Victor, tested her earlier today. The silver gave her a rash, but caused no damage."
