“They studied our abilities before they doped us with whatever that black shit was,” added the older werebear, a heavyset teenager with black bangs masking his eyes and nose. “How strong we were, what kind of stimulus triggered our change, whether or not wounds suffered in one form carried over to the other. They do, by the way.”

“They were looking for potential soldiers.” That was the fellow with the scales. “They kept talking about different functions we could perform. Infiltration. Reconnaissance. Infantry. Assassination.”

“If the fuckers had offered a decent paycheck, I’d have enlisted,” muttered the werebear.

“That would require them to treat us like people.” Deb emerged from the store carrying several gallon jugs of milk. “We’re weapons. Tools. They want to use what we can do, but only if they can control us.”

She handed out all the jugs save one. That one, she twisted off the top and poured the milk directly over her eyes and face. “It helps neutralize the tear gas.” She blinked and looked around. “Who’s next?”

I waited for the others, then used what was left in one of the jugs to bathe my eyes. The milk helped more than I thought, and the burning eased. I dribbled a bit over Smudge as well. He jumped back and scowled at me, then went back to grooming himself with his forelegs. From the smoke rising off his body, he’d burnt off the worst of the tear gas residue once we escaped the prison.

Deb wiped her face and turned to me. “So you can carve curses into people’s heads now? Giving Franklin a hungry leech-dick is hard core. Where’d you learn that bit of nastiness?”

“I didn’t. But Franklin didn’t know that.”

Her face hardened. “You mean you just let him go?”

“What did you want me to do?” I snapped. “Castrate him on the spot? Execute him?”

“Both. Both is good.”

“You saw how his partner reacted. If Franklin doesn’t turn himself in, Johnson will do it for him. He’s finished.”

“You should have done more.”

“I know that.” I was so burned out I could hardly see straight.

“He said something to you before we left,” Deb pressed. “Is that why you brought us to D.C.?”

“That’s right.” I took out a book at random and fanned the pages. It stunk of tear gas.

“You’re not going to tell me.”

“Right again.”

A short time later, a gold full-sized van pulled into the parking lot.

“That’s our ride.” Deb waved to the driver and opened the sliding door.

I wasn’t convinced everyone would fit, but we managed. Former prisoners balanced two or three to a seat, with others hunched and packed together on the floors. I sat with Lena in the back, wedged between a werebear and the zombie. Thankfully, the zombie was in good shape, with only the faintest smell of rot.