Free The Mountain's Shadow by Cecilia Dominic

expression reminded me of a begging puppy.
    “No, no, I’m fine. What did you want to talk to me about?”
    “You’re Doctor Joanna Fisher?”
    “Yes. I thought we’d already established that.”
    “Of Cabal Laboratories?”
    “ Formerly of Cabal Laboratories.”
    “What happened?”
    “A fire. An affair. All my data was burned, and so was I.”
    “I read your work on cultural patterns and CLS when I was in medical school. At that point, it was all theory, not something I planned on dealing with.”
    The waiter arrived. Ted, Manager, was nowhere in sight. “Are you ready, Doctor Bowman, Doctor Fisher?”
    Leonard raised his eyebrow. “Word gets around.”
    “Apparently.”
    We ordered, and after the waiter brought our drinks—sweet tea for me—I asked, “Wait a second, so you didn’t have CLS from childhood?”
    “No. I would be much better able to control it, I think.”
    “When did you get it?”
    “The second year of residency at UAMS.”
    The door opened, and a shadow flickered over Leonard’s face. I turned to face the door, but at first I couldn’t make out the features of the couple who had just entered. The host greeted them, and once the door closed against the bright light of outside, I saw Lonna and Peter Bowman. He had his hand on her elbow. Leonard sank down in his seat.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I’m supposed to be at home watching Peter’s wife. He thinks she’s having an affair.”
    “Looks like projection to me.” Already there was too much eye contact, too many casual touches.
    Leonard smiled his half smile again. “She’s too busy with their kid to think about an affair. He’s two.”
    “And a terror from what I hear.”
    “He’s not that bad, just a lot of energy.”
    “Not that you’re biased.”
    Leonard’s face lit with a true smile. “When I come home in the evening, he’ll run full tilt down the hall and jump into my arms.” He frowned and lowered his voice. “He doesn’t care about what happens after he goes to bed.”
    “What does happen?” I leaned forward on my arms.  
    “You should know.” Leonard’s black eyes met mine. “But then again, you can’t. I don’t even know if I do.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s a different state of mind. And what happens feels like dreams.” A line appeared between his eyebrows as he frowned. “I try to remember them in the morning.”
    “But you can’t.” I let my breath out slowly. I had read interviews of CLS kids who had originally been diagnosed with sleepwalking, but their EEG tracings had indicated a state closer to Rapid Eye Movement sleep than to the Stage 3 sleep associated with sleepwalking. When questioned the next morning, they claimed to have no idea how they got where they did or why. It was a different state of mind.
    So those creatures I had seen on the lawn last night had been CLS sufferers hunting—true werewolves. Gabriel had hinted, but now it made sense.
    Our food came, and I continued to glance over Leonard’s shoulder at the table where Peter sat with Lonna. They had their drinks, and it seemed as though Peter liked a civilized cocktail at lunch. There was also one in front of Lonna, which surprised me because she never mixed business and alcohol. Apparently this was a little something more than business.
    “What are they doing?” Leonard still slouched in the booth so as to be out of sight.
    “Talking. Drinking. Why?”
    “I can’t leave until they do. He might see me.”
    I tried not to smile at the irony of the situation. “What are you so worried about? What will he do to you if you’re not there?”
    “Peter is mercurial. I think that’s the right word. He likes to hold our dependence on him, especially our financial dependence, over our heads.”
    “Wait a second, ‘our’?”
    “My cousin Ron also has CLS and lives with Peter.”
    “Both of you?”
    “And we both got it last winter while we were in residency at UAMS.”
    “Before that, nothing?”
    “Nothing. We