The Hyde Effect by Steve Vance

Author:Steve Vance [Vance, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, werewolves
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2017-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

11

On Viewing the Subject

Loraine Powell was a confident woman in a world that was not nearly so antipathetic toward her sex as it had once been; or so she saw herself. She was rather openly proud of having made her place in the rough and tumble field of journalism before having a woman on the staff had become the chic thing to do. She was fond of pointing out that she had been born liberated. And she was a damned fine writer.

She had known Douglas Morgan for nearly a decade and held some affection for him. But she really viewed him as an excellent foil for her sharp wit and inbred skepticism because, no matter how hard he tried, he could never resist falling into a heated, if civilized, argument with her. Because she dealt with cold, documented facts and he with the wildest of speculation, she always won these arguments, at least in her opinion.

“Doug and Fergie,” she greeted them while the two slid into chairs at her side. “I was wondering if we’d have to send the Mounties after you, or if maybe this exhibition weren’t enthralling enough to draw you this far out in the country.”

“You jest, madam,” replied Brad in an exhalation of breath as he squeezed into the seat. “Morgan the Merciless would have committed suicide rather than miss this little party.”

“And yet you were late,” Loraine added in pained confusion.

“Blame him,” Morgan said, pointing to Ferguson. “It took me most of the day just to herd him into a box canyon.”

The photographer adopted a theatrically pained expression. “Would you chastise a person for taking pride in his personal appearance? I was experiencing a haircut.”

“The world forgives you,” she assured him. Turning to Doug, she asked, “So how’s the wife?”

“Fine, just fine. She wanted to come along and see this thing, but I couldn’t swing a pass for her, and being the incredible chauvinist I am, I didn’t try very hard. She says to invite you for dinner if you ever get off of that freaky macronutrient-seaweed diet of yours.”

Powell involuntarily glanced down at her trim body, proud of its tautness in spite of the forty-six years it carried. “Then you tell her that the macronutrient diet is what gives me my svelte figure and blushing good health—”

“Mine, too,” interrupted Ferguson, his fingers around a last cupcake.

“… but I’m allowed to backslide now and again, especially for some of her brilliant beef bourguignon.” She looked at the empty, heavily-constructed wooden chair on the lighted stage at the front of the auditorium. “I wish they’d bring that psycho out so we could be done with it all.”

“Maybe he’s not a psycho,” Morgan said.

Loraine smiled to herself; the bell had been rung. “No? What do you call a man who kills fifteen people with his hands and teeth?”

“A werewolf.”

She laughed aloud, drawing the attention of the Governor. “Oh, come on, Doug, we’re not talking comic books and ‘B’ movies here. Don’t even try to convince me that he’s going to fall on all fours and grow fur at midnight.

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