"I don't think Winkler would be happy if somebody foiled his plans," Ashe grinned.
"You have no idea," Wynter rolled her eyes in exasperation. "So I promised my dad I'd at least meet the guy and then tell him exactly what I thought of his choice."
"I got grounded the last time I talked back to my dad," Ashe muttered.
"I was seventeen when I told Dad that. I was grounded for a week." Wynter smiled.
"What about your grandparents? Are these your mother's folks or your dad's?"
"Mom's mother and her second husband. Davis is no relation, but he's the best grandfather. Dad's parents are both dead."
"That's too bad. I don't have any grandparents. I always wondered what it would be like to have some." As soon as Ashe made the statement, he remembered the email he'd gotten from the one claiming to be his grandfather. He wondered still whether he should believe what he'd received or if, as the message had indicated, he shouldn't trust it at all. Shaking himself a little, Ashe came back to the present. "I didn't see Trace when we came in last night."
"He didn't come in. Trace was visiting his friend Eric," Wynter said. "Eric came down for the weekend, so they rented a condo down the beach."
Ashe blinked for a few moments. "Trace is gay?"
"Yes. Does that bother you?"
"Does Eric treat him well?"
"Yes. He's werewolf, too. They're a small minority, but they do exist."
"As long as Eric cares about Trace, I have no problem with that. Trace is a good guy." Ashe nodded determinedly.
"Is it just Trace you don't have a problem with?" Wynter asked.
"Nope. People are people. They love other people. What difference does it make? Dad told me a few years back, when he explained about the birds and the bees, that everybody deserves love and respect. He says there are gay vampires and shapeshifters. He didn't know about the wolves, but he figured there had to be some."
"I might like to meet your dad sometime," Wynter said. "I've only met a few vampires—Anthony Hancock, now Anthony Rockland. Dalroy and Rhett."
"Yeah? Well, you'd probably like Nathan Anderson, too. He's more laid back than my dad, I think. If something makes my dad angry, he's angry right away. Nathan thinks about it for a little while before making a decision. Probably a good thing, since he's Cori and Dori's dad."
* * *
"So, Wynter let the cat out of the bag," Trace sat next to Ashe on the sofa after dinner.
"Is it supposed to make me feel different about you?" Ashe blinked at the taller werewolf.
"I hope not." Trace grinned and ruffled Ashe's hair.
"Did you have a hard time in school because of it?" Ashe asked.
"You have no idea," Trace nodded. "And then to find out I was werewolf on top of that? Trajan and my parents kept me from going crazy."
"Are your parents still alive?"
"Yeah. Still live between Waco and Fort Worth. Still grow peaches, pears and pecan trees, plus a few other things. I followed Jason around as soon as I could walk, I think. He's like my second dad."
"Discussing the joys of youth?" Tony Hancock walked in. Ashe stared at him for a moment before everything shifted. Just as before, when he'd seen Winkler and the woman, the air around Ashe seemed to shift and shimmer. He saw Tony with a blond man nearly the same height. The blond man appeared to be teaching Tony something, gesturing with his hands while they both sat in a study decorated in French period furniture. The desk was ornately carved and gilded. Louis XIV came to Ashe's mind as he stared at the image before him.
"Ashe—Ashe? Buddy, where are you?" Trace was shaking Ashe as he came back to the present.
"Wow." Ashe held his head in confusion.
"What happened? Did you have another vision?" Winkler was in the room quickly and kneeling next to Ashe.
"I saw Tony and a blond man. I think the blond man was telling Tony something." Ashe looked past Winkler at Tony Hancock. "I saw you in a room filled with French furniture. The blond man was sitting at a gilded, antique desk. I think it was Louis XIV or something."
"You saw that?" Tony had a cell phone in his hand faster than Ashe could follow the movement.
"Who was it?" Ashe asked as Tony dialed a number. Ashe heard it ringing. Someone picked up immediately.
"Honored One, Ashe Evans just had a vision of me—and René—in the past. He described René's study accurately."
"Has the boy had any other visions?" Ashe recognized that voice. Wlodek, Head of the Vampire Council, had come to Cloud Chief three years earlier to attend Old Harold's funeral. Ashe hadn't known who it was until the ancient vampire had driven away with his vampire chauffeur.
"He's had one—of me around twenty-four years ago. It was nothing, just something I was thinking about at the time. Someone's memories must trigger it." Winkler stood up, nodding at Tony. He knew Wlodek could hear his words easily.
"Take the boy from the room," Wlodek ordered.
"But," Ashe looked from Winkler to Tony.
"Come on, let's go find Trajan and Marco," Trace pulled Ashe off the sofa and led him from the room.
* * *
"He's out of hearing range," Winkler nodded to Tony.
"What else has the boy been doing that I should know about?" Wlodek sounded angry.
"Honored One, that child probably wouldn't tell anyone—he's very tight-lipped. At his father's insistence, of course," Winkler said.
"Of course. Aedan is the same way."
"Honored One, I understand that there is more information to be had than what was handed to the boy," Winkler went on.
"Yes." Wlodek's voice was guarded.
"Then I think you should search through the rest of it, to see if there is anything there regarding something—or someone—called Ir'Indicti."
"Will you spell that for me, please? And how did you learn of this?"
"The information came from a quarter-blood Elemaiya who Matt Michaels picked up at Tanner's game preserve. The man seems insane, but he can predict things better than anyone I've ever seen. Matt let me talk to him earlier today. He gave me the spelling of the term, but he wouldn't tell me anything else."
"And where is this person now? What is his name?" Wlodek asked calmly. Winkler knew enough of Wlodek to know he was more dangerous this way.
"His name is Wildrif and he's in the federal maximum security facility in Colorado."
"Ah. Well. Do you know if he is Dark or Bright Elemaiya?"
"He says Dark."
"I see. I will research this, as you ask. If I find anything useful, I will let you know." Wlodek ended the call.
"Wildrif will be dead in a week, won't he?" Winkler watched Tony pocket his cell phone.
"Most likely. Don't try to stop it," Tony said. "If the enemies of the Council learn of his existence, they'll get him out of prison and make him vampire. We had a hard time cleaning out their nest of Dark Elemaiya-turned-vampires the last time. We only turn the Bright Ones. At least they're not homicidal when they wake as vampire."
"I remember—I was there when the army of Dark Elemaiya vampires tried to kill all of us," Winkler huffed. "I know all about the misters, the mindspeakers and the shapeshifter vampires, all bent on destruction. Where we differ is how they were destroyed."
"I know what's in the official records the Council keeps," Tony slapped Winkler on the back. "We don't deal in fantasy, like you do."
"Tony, if it makes you feel better, then believe anything you like." Winkler stalked from the room.
* * *
"Come on, wimp. Get those weights up," Trajan grinned as he put Wayne through his paces on the weight bench. "Your dad can do twice that—easy."
"Seriously? Dad can do six hundred?" Wayne hissed out a breath. Ashe watched, leaning against the wall of the weight room. Marco was spotting Wayne—it wouldn't do to let the boss's son get smacked by three hundred pounds. Ashe had worked his way up to one-seventy-five. Now he was determined to do better than that.
"Yep. Your old man can do s
ix hundred, easy," Winkler stalked into the room, acting like a caged wolf. "Come on, get off that bench. I need to work off a little steam."
Trajan put more weight on the bar; Winkler stretched first and then got on the bench. Ashe was completely impressed when Winkler did four hundred to start, and then Trajan added more weight until the six-hundred mark was reached. Ashe reminded himself that this was the Dallas Packmaster, with one of the largest Packs in the U.S. The Grand Master depended upon him just as much as his official Second; his son, Daryl Harper.
"Okay, I'll work harder," Wayne grumbled when Winkler rose from the weight bench.
"Good. I'm going into town for a Dilly Bar. Anybody want to come?" Winkler grinned. Ashe, Trajan, Trace and Marco loaded into Winkler's SUV. Winkler drove, which was unusual. Trajan or one of the others usually did. Ashe loaded into the back seat with Trace and Marco; Trajan sat in the front with Winkler. Gene, Gabe and Tony stayed behind with Wynter and Wayne.
Winkler pulled into the parking lot of the Port Aransas Dairy Queen minutes later. Only six cars were in the parking lot. Ashe smelled the familiar scent of hamburgers, fries and other fast food when they walked inside the small eatery. Before making his selection, Ashe examined the freezer filled with frozen treats, deciding he wanted a soft-serve cone after all.
"What made you want a Dilly Bar, boss?" Trajan grinned as they loaded into the SUV again. Winkler was munching on his ice-cream bar, so Trajan was driving. He'd settled for a limeade drink.
"Because Ashe is too young to go to a bar," Winkler said. "Take us to the beach. We'll drive on the sand for a while."
* * *
"Charles, did you find anything?" Wlodek eyed his vampire assistant. Charles had several aliases, but in each of them, the first name was always Charles. He'd been Wlodek's personal secretary/assistant for three hundred years. As a vampire, and even as a human before that, Charles was eternally curious. He was also discretion itself and capable of doing at least five things at once. Plus, since the invention of typewriters and then computers, Charles was most likely the fastest typist anyone had ever seen.
"I did, Honored One." Charles stood before Wlodek's antique desk. It wasn't Louis XIV—it was older, heavier and made of darker wood. Rumor had it that this was the fifth antique desk that Wlodek had used since becoming Head of the Council—he'd destroyed the other four in fits of anger.
"And what does it say?" Wlodek lifted an eyebrow at Charles.
"You should read this for yourself, Honored One. I need to sit down, I think."
"Feeling faint, Charles?"
"No, Honored One. Feeling frightened."
* * *
"Anthony is already in the states, Honored One," Gavin Montegue wasn't expecting a call from Wlodek so close to dawn. He was in Barcelona, tracking a rogue vampire.
"But your vampire child is on another assignment. I want you to bring this Dark Elemaiya to me. I wish to question him before he dies. He is already causing havoc among humans, werewolves and shapeshifters. I can trust you with this. Tape his mouth shut if you have to. Select two others to go with you; I want this done within the week, quickly and efficiently. No trail. Understand?"
"Of course, Honored One. Russell and Will are available, and Dmitri can take over this assignment."
"Good. Keep me advised." Wlodek terminated the call abruptly.
* * *
"You wanted to come along, you get to change the tire." Ezekiel didn't have much patience with Jack Howard. The former congressman thought of himself as an outdoorsman and hunter. He was soft in Zeke's estimation. When a tire had blown on one of the trucks, Ezekiel ordered Jack Howard and two others to change it. Howard grumbled about it the whole time. Sweat dripped off the end of Howard's nose as he rolled the replacement tire toward the front of the transport vehicle. It resembled those the army used to haul troops, with canvas covering the back portion. The canvas sides had been rolled up to provide airflow for those riding inside. Now, all the passengers stood on the side of a dirt track in jungle conditions, while Jack Howard and two others worked to change the heavy tire. Insects buzzed around Jack Howard's sweaty face, making the situation worse.
"How long will we be at sea?" Jack huffed as he and a werewolf positioned the tire on the wheel bolts.
"Three days," Ezekiel said, watching as the other werewolf placed lug nuts on the bolts and screwed them on. The truck was let down after the bolts were tightened, then checked one last time before everyone loaded up and resumed their journey.
* * *
"I don't know which direction Pruitt went—he won't answer calls from his Second, but I've ordered him to keep trying," Weldon Harper, Werewolf Grand Master, informed Winkler over the phone. Winkler had walked down the beach a little way so the others wouldn't be privy to the conversation. Winkler could see Ashe wading in the surf near the SUV while the others watched nearby. A half-moon hung low over the water, lighting a pale path toward the east. It would become full in five nights. Every werewolf felt it—it pulled at them the entire week.
"I don't want to send my trackers across the border after him if I don't have a specific location to send them," Weldon added. "If we catch scent of him, we'll go after him for the murders he's ordered."
"I may have some ideas on that," Winkler said. "What are you planning to do about the Phoenix Pack in the meantime? It's obvious Pruitt has abandoned them. If he sticks his nose back in the U.S. now, he knows we'll be all over him."
"I've left the Second in charge for the moment, but I've asked to borrow Dalroy and Rhett again—they're on standby in case we get a hit on Pruitt. We need to find out if anybody knows anything. I'm getting itchy about this, Winkler. You and I know that Ezekiel Tanner disappeared years ago. There was never any concrete evidence that he died in the attack against his father, Zachariah."
"I know," Winkler raked fingers through his hair, unsettling it. "And Obediah always insisted that Zeke was dead, but I never believed a word he said. And that was when he was still an official member of the community. I think Zeke and Pruitt are together and working that side of the drug and smuggling ring. Marcella said that Pruitt was going to Mexico at least once a month, remember?"
"That's what got me worried about this to start with. If I had my hands on Pruitt right this minute," the Grand Master growled.
"I'd like to hear a few answers myself," Winkler agreed. "We've gotten a couple of hits on one of his bank cards—he pulled cash from a machine in El Paso shortly after he disappeared," Winkler added. "That spells Juarez to me."
"Home of Drug Cartels R Us and anybody will take a bribe to do anything," Weldon sighed. "I'm afraid to send wolves down there, that's how violent it is."
"I wouldn't go unless it was night and I had vampires at my back," Winkler agreed. "I think Pruitt and Zeke Tanner have been partners for a while, even if Tanner didn't know about Pruitt's attempt to kill me. He could have gotten his son out and left me alone. Something about this bothers me, but I can't put a finger on it. Matt has people working out of El Paso, but if they haven't uncovered Obediah's supply trail before now, they're not likely to. If it's Zeke, he's way too smart for that. They're getting stuff inside the states and not using any conventional means to do it." Winkler toed bits of shell with his snakeskin boots.
"He may be running the risk of exposing all of us."
"Like I haven't thought of that?" Winkler bent to pick up a small bit of shell, tossing it far into the water. The half-moon was rising higher overhead. Ashe, as mist, hovered overhead as well, listening to Winkler's conversation with the Grand Master. The illusion he'd left behind of him wading in the water was working perfectly. Nobody suspected a thing.
Chapter 15
"If he can shapeshift and mist, then it is only logical that he has mindspeech." Rabis bowed before the Bright Queen. She thought herself beautiful, but the Queen before her had been more so. Friesianna was subtle and devious. She'd betrayed her way to the throne, courting those useful to her, casting away those weak and in
effective.
She was also gifted with Le'meruh, a particularly strong form of compulsion, which few could deny. Only a handful had known of her talent before she cast away the former Queen. Friesianna also wasn't above killing here and there, when it suited her purpose. Rabis had been away, tending to other matters when the former Queen fell, fleeing from Friesianna and her newly acquired Sentinels.
The Jewel brothers, who'd secretly supported her in her efforts to take over the Bright race, were hers to command. Now, under Friesianna's rule, the Noble Houses were nearly gone, the Middle Caste wasted in battle against the Dark Elemaiya and the Lower Castes viewed as nothing more than fodder in any skirmish. Children had become rare. Hilbah had suggested the fertility clinics, with unsuspecting human parents raising the half-Elemaiyan children until the Call went out. Then the Dark Elemaiya had uncovered the plot, with disastrous results.
Rabis sighed at the thought. So many innocents had died, thinking they were as human as their adoptive parents. Now, only one remained who had not been gathered or killed. One, who seemed to be particularly talented. Rabis was afraid to voice his fear—and his hope—where that one was concerned.
"So, mindspeech. That's logical," Friesianna struck a pose as she repeated Rabis' words. Rabis wondered whom she thought to impress. No Nobles were present and only Diamond stood in attendance. The other three Jewels were on some errand or other. "Which of the lower talents do you imagine he might possess?"
"That I cannot see, my Queen. You know I cannot see if there is a cloud of uncertainty about any of those I track with Foresight. We know the Dark Ones seek him out. Now we know that they may take him for their own purposes, since they have no living misters. The uncertainty surely comes from that—which side will end up with our quarry."
"Then we must ensure that he comes to us. Diamond, have you devised a plan to accomplish this?" Friesianna sounded bored as she addressed her oldest Sentinel.
"Yes, my Queen. My brothers are making preparations. Do not fear, we will have this one and he will serve you gladly. I will see to it personally."
"Very good. We haven't had a misting spy in a long while. This pleases me."
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