Chapter 3:

Finding a Family

Part 2

Ratchet sighed. Fang was going to kill him. First, he'd run out of the restaurant with no explanation, and then he'd finally called 12 hours later saying he wouldn't be back that night. Ratchet turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket.

He was standing outside of a fancy hotel. He had followed "old Fang" all over town. He had gone onto an official looking, three story building at one point and had stayed in there for about five to six hours. Ratchet hadn't moved until the man came out again. Two hours ago, the man had gone into the hotel.

Ratchet looked around for a somewhat comfortable place to sleep. He spotted an alley across the street with a perfect view of the hotel's front entrance. He crossed the street and situated himself so that he could see the entrance without anyone being able to see him.

Tomorrow, he would stop the man and have a little chat with him. If Ratchet's hunch was right, then he and Fang had more in common than just looks.

. . . .

"FANG! Would you please sit still for five minutes?" Maya yelled in agitation. I stopped fidgeting/tapping my finger on the table immediately. I may be team leader, but when Maya is pissed, she's a force to be reckoned with. Her temper was even more legendary than Max's. I really don't want to be around when she's pregnant. Who knows how much more demonic she'll be!

"Sorry," I said looking down at my food. I was on edge, we all were. I told everybody what Ratchet had said when he'd called. It was now 10 am, and we still hadn't heard anything from him since last night. We wouldn't really be worried; Ratchet can take care of himself. But the way he'd run out yesterday had not been within Ratchet's normal behavior. What in the world was going on? I wanted to beat Ratchet with a stick 'till he told me. Didn't he trust us? Didn't he know we would always be there for him? I sighed and started poking at my food with my fork. I wasn't really hungry, which doesn't happen often. But I couldn't shake the feeling that things were gonna start getting weird again.

. . . .

Tomas St. Cloud checked his phone for any messages when he heard the sound of running footfalls. "Excuse me! Sir!" Tomas turned around and looked at the rag-tag teen who was calling after him.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Can I ask you a few...personal... questions? I know it's weird- some kid you never seen before asking you this- but it's really important that I know."

Tomas gaped at the teen for a moment, completely taken aback. "I—uh—sure, I guess," he finally managed. He was curious to know what this was all about.

The boy sighed with relief. "Alright, first question: Do you have any kids?"

"No."

"Have you ever been married?"

"… Yes."

"Did you ever have kids with her?"

"…"

The boy gave a sad smile. "Some men in black suits came in and said the baby boy died in the night, and you never saw a body, right?"

Tomas froze. How does he know that? Nobody was supposed to know about that but the family! Who is this kid? "What do want, boy? Do you plan on blackmailing me if I don't give you money or whatever it is that you want?"

The kid smiled, obviously having heard what he wanted. "Actually, I thought a friend of mine might want to meet his father. And maybe you might want to meet your "dead" son."

. . . .

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I immediately grabbed and snapped it open. I didn't even look at the caller id.

"Ratchet!"

"Hey Fang, you wouldn't happen to be busy, would you?"

"Uh…no. Why?"

"Come meet me at that sushi place we were at the other day. It's important."

"O-kay." I said uncertainly.

"Oh, and come alone."

Great. Just what I need. More trouble. *le sigh*

"I'm going out!" I shouted as I walked out the door. "I'll be back later."

. . . .

Tomas sat in the far corner of the restaurant trying not to run out the door. He didn't know why, but he'd found himself believing the boy, Ratchet, when he said that the child his wife had born before she died, the child everyone told them had not made it through the night, was, in fact, still alive. Ratchet had also said that the men who had told him the boy had died, were mad scientists who had taken his new born son and used him as a lab rat. Tomas didn't know what to expect. Sure, he dealt with werewolves, necromancers, and other supernaturals almost on a daily basis, and he was a scientist himself, but genetic experiments. That was a different story. Ratchet had called his "son" about five minutes ago, and had gone outside to wait for him. Tomas had a clear view out of the front window from where he sat.

He glanced out the window and saw Ratchet suddenly wave to someone. The man froze as he saw a teen that looked like him when he was 18 walk over to Ratchet. He had black hair, olive skin and dark, bottomless eyes. From what he could see, he appeared to be completely normal, but that didn't really mean that he was.

Tomas sat up straight in his chair as the two boys entered the restaurant. Here we go he thought to himself.

. . . .

I was on guard as I entered the restaurant. What was Ratchet thinking? Yes, this man could very well be his biological father, but that didn't mean he wanted to meet him. For all he knew, he could be one of the crazies who used to experiment on him at the school. He could be using this opportunity to recapture all of them and ship them off to a lab somewhere for more testing or "extermination". I looked at the man we were approaching and almost slapped myself for thinking this man wanted to hurt us. He looked nervous, excited and terrified all at once. Yes, there was no denying that they were related. They looked like carbon copies of each other.

As we reached the table, the man stood up, and I eyed him warily. Ratchet cleared his throat and said, too cheerily, "Tomas, this is Fang. Fang, this is Tomas."

I shook his hand hesitantly and nodded, and he did the same. This time I really did mentally slap myself. Something about this guy struck a chord in me, and I took an immediate liking to him, though I didn't show it. This was going to be interesting.

. . . .

"So, what exactly do you do?" Ratchet asked.

"Actually, I'm a scientist."

I stiffened. Shit! I knew it, he was one of them.

"But not the kind that your thinking of," he went on, reading my mind. Yeah, right. "But very similar, I will admit. I've been researching genes for years, but I've never spliced anyone's genes. I'm looking at the genes of very special people. Supernaturals, to be specific." Oh, oops.

Ratchet leaned forward excitedly. "Supernaturals? Like vampires, witches, wizards, werewolves, that sort of thing?"

"Yes, exactly that sort of thing." Ok, either my dad is a quack, or my feeling that things are gonna get weird is about to come true. "Necromancers, werewolves, witches, wizards, half demons, shaman…almost every kind of supernatural that you can think of. Although, I still have yet to meet a vampire. They're not very social."

"Oh, really?" I asked skeptically. I had the feeling that he was telling the truth, but I wasn't too sure yet.

"So, what about you boys?" he asked hesitantly. This is going to be a long lunch…