39
“There have always been groups like the Institute,” Rob said from the head of a conference table that looked very much like it had come from the Middle Ages. On the stone walls around them hung crimson banners stitched with golden, rampant lions. Rooster had a vague idea what they were all about, part of the business name no less, but he’d been lucky to figure out Robin Hood on his own. No doubt someone would fill him in at some point.
“But the Ingraham Institute,” Rob continued, “is the first one to have government funding and total protection from all the alphabet agencies.” He turned to his right. “Much?”
The kid, face invisible save for a narrow sliver of nose and a corner of an eye through his pale hair, tapped something on the laptop in front of him and an overhead projector whirred to life. An image appeared on the wall behind Rob’s chair: an old black-and-white photo of an utilitarian building in the snow, a smiling man in a lab coat standing in front of it.
“Dr. Charles Ingraham,” Rob said, gesturing behind him to the photo. “He was the first notable American to use medical science to try to explain supernatural phenomenon. Thousands had done it before him, all the way back to the beginning, but he had a grant from Harvard and was performing experiments on wolves in his school-provided labs.”
Much made a disgusted noise.
“Wolves?” Rooster asked.
Rob’s pleasant expression grew wry. “I’ll get to that. But be warned: you aren’t going to believe it. Okay, so, Ingraham. One of his lab rats was Russian, so he convinced the university, and eventually the damn president, to send him to Stalingrad as part of the Lend-Lease program the US had with the Soviets.”
Rooster nodded. That at least made some real-world sense.
“He’d been in contact with a man named Philippe being kept on retainer by Stalin. It was all very convoluted – a whole anti-Soviet White plot – and at the end of it, Dr. Ingraham was killed in a fire. But not before obtaining video and photo and biological evidence that werewolves exist, can be created, and can be used to wake and assist vampires.”
Rooster stared at him.
“I know,” Rob said, growing serious. He braced his elbows on the table, hands linked as he leaned toward Rooster imploringly. “It sounds completely crazy, no doubt to a military man like yourself. But here I sit. In the flesh. And Deshawn tells me your Red is a mage.”
Rooster swallowed three times, and finally picked up the water bottle that had been set in front of him before the meeting. “She,” he said, hesitant, after he’d had a sip. “She has…these powers.”
“When you came home from Iraq, you could barely move,” Deshawn said levelly from across the table. “Red put her hands on you, and look at you now; you’re bigger than you ever were on active duty.”
“I got better.” A weak protest. A false one, he knew.
Rooster gripped the water bottle hard in his left hand – his bad hand – and felt the plastic crumple. Water droplets spilled over his knuckles. The pain was only a low buzz. She hadn’t healed him in the traditional sense, but she’d pushed the pain back and let his body heal itself.
“The more magical technology becomes, the less humans are willing to believe in actual magic,” Rob said.
Rooster looked at him, chest tight. “What are you, then?”
Rob grinned, flashing those too-sharp teeth again. “ ‘Now this is the Law of the Jungle — as old and as true as the sky;
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die,’ ” he recited. “I always loved Kipling, and I don’t think that’s just my English bias talking. I am a wolf, friend.Richard’swolf, and this is my pack.”
Rooster looked at Deshawn, brows raised.
“No.” Deshawn shook his head.
“Only my Merry Men,” Rob explained. “The rest of our ranks are filled with highly capable humans.”
“This is bullshit,” Rooster said.
“Yeah,” Deshawn agreed. “But what’re you gonna do?”
“Ugh,” Much said. “Can we just get on with it?”
“Yes, yes,” Rob said, waving. “Next slide, please.”
~*~
“The Institute isn’t some kind of big evil government entity,” Rob explained. “Their heart’s in the right place. But their methods are questionable at best.
“Humans and immortals haven’t had much in the way of meaningful interaction in the last few centuries. The last, most notable instance was of Vlad Tepes leading his armies against the Ottoman Empire.”
