Cloud Rebel: R-D 3

by Connie Suttle

  "Thank you for your support, dearest," he flashed a grin at me. "I believe that Captain Finch is-as a human might say-freezing his ass off right now."

  "Probably holed up in a tent," Brett said.

  "He is. I will provide much better housing when we arrive. He may stay in a tent if he wishes after that."

  "Doubt it," I muttered. Val laughed.

  * * *

  "From inside a warm house, the snow is incredible," Jen said. Outside, the snow was falling and blowing so hard you couldn't see more than two feet in front of you. Inside Val's Lodge, as we'd dubbed it, we were comfortable.

  Even Captain Finch held his questions back after seeing all nine blue feet of Val when he transported him and his team inside.

  After all, their tents had all but blown away in the blizzard. Nathan grinned and flung his arms about me when he arrived and that, I believe, also helped keep Finch at bay.

  His questions would come, though, when he imagined he wouldn't be killed outright by what was surely an alien working for the government.

  "We should go get Leo," I said. "He's stuck at the airport in Montreal."

  "Master wolf, do you think you might keep all here in line and refraining from harming one another?" Val lifted an eyebrow in Brett's direction.

  "Sure thing," Brett lifted his coffee cup in a salute.

  "Very well. We will return with Dr. Shaw shortly." Val took my hand and folded space.

  * * *

  Jennifer Troutman, 1st Lt, US Army

  "Master wolf, huh?" I wrinkled my nose at Brett.

  "It's my commanding presence," he teased. "Besides, Finch doesn't outrank me." Brett sipped more of his coffee.

  "Corinne says he's a jerk," I sighed. "I was hoping for something different."

  "Heroes are seldom what we build them up to be," Brett agreed. "The real heroes, though, are the ones who are even better in person."

  "I can't figure out who-or what Corinne is. Yes, I know they're Larentii, but there's something else there and you know it."

  "I was thinking that she's one of those heroes who are better in person, and we hadn't even heard of her, before."

  "You think she was part of the original Program-the one Dr. Shaw talks about?"

  "Possibly. Shaw is slowly giving us information-trying not to scare us, I guess. I think he's waiting to tell us what happened to the original members."

  "They have to be dead, or we'd have met them by now. Don't you think?" I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice.

  "Jen, don't worry about that, all right?" Brett rubbed my shoulders. I had to admit to myself that his touch felt really good.

  "What's going on?" Dr. Farrell interrupted our conversation.

  "Just need more coffee," Brett held up his cup and walked out of the room. Dr. Farrell wore a frown as he watched Brett leave. Somehow, I always got the feeling that Dr. Farrell was waiting for something-expecting something, in fact-from me. I had yet to determine what it was.

  She is mine filtered into my thoughts, causing me to gasp.

  * * *

  Corinne

  We found Leo standing at a window, gazing out at the occasional snowflake that blew past the Montreal airport. Miles to the north, that same storm system was dumping snow on the ground at an alarming rate.

  "Leo?" I said softly. After all, Val had shielded us from everyone else's sight-only Leo could see us and I didn't want his reaction at our arrival to draw attention.

  "Corinne?" He beamed at me when I stepped up beside him.

  "Val and I are here to take you to the location," I said.

  "I hope there's more than a tent waiting-I got the official weather report a few minutes ago," he held up his cell phone.

  "There is, thanks to Val. And we have coffee and food there, too," I said. "Uh, how's Rafe?"

  "Depressed."

  "That's not what I wanted to hear," I sighed.

  "I know. I wish there were a way to fix this," Leo nodded. "Come on, let's get out of here before I'm hauled in for a psych eval for talking to myself."

  * * *

  "So. Not dead after all," Finch groused as he took a seat at the kitchen island. Val had designed this one after what was at the beach house, so there was plenty of room for everyone.

  "Not dead," I poured a mug of coffee for myself. "Want some?" I held up the pot.

  "Sure. That blue guy-what's he to you?"

  "He's my Larentii mate," I said, turning tall and blue to drive my point home.

  "Christ," Finch lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Were you this-before?"

  "Yep."

  "How can you-just change like that?"

  "Larentii can command atoms," I shrugged. "Hell, we can command the smaller particles, too."

  "That must be handy," Finch raised his eyes and looked around the kitchen. "I guess that explains our new quarters, then."

  "That explains it," I nodded.

  "That guy you were with last time-he still alive?"

  "Yes."

  "Where?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say."

  "Ah. Do you know whether I could beat him in a fight?"

  "You would be pulped and on your way to paper if you threw a punch in his direction," I snapped. "You have no idea who you were rude to the last time we saw one another."

  "Yeah. I'm beginning to see that. What about the two who came in with you? They don't recognize me for some reason."

  "Long story," I said for the second time that day. "Try to be nice, okay? Jen idolizes you-as a hero. Try to hold onto that image, all right?"

  "Wow," Finch whispered. I set his coffee on the island in front of him.

  "How is this place powered?" Leo walked into the kitchen. Automatically, I poured coffee for him.

  "Solar power, sent from sensor to sensor from above the atmosphere to the ground," Val appeared.

  "Somebody is way, way more efficient than Earth," I smiled at Val.

  "It is common in both the Reth and Campiaan Alliances," he shrugged. "Worlds that failed to harness wind, solar and water power often drained and destroyed themselves," he added. "We Larentii developed this practice before anyone else."

  "The original hippies," Finch said before sipping his coffee.

  "You just can't help yourself, can you?" I snapped at him.

  Val didn't do anything to Finch. He did do something to Finch's coffee cup-the one he still held aloft.

  Its particles separated in a flash of sparks and disappeared while Finch stared at his now-empty hand in shock.

  "He can do that with your body, too," I said. "Sometimes, it doesn't take stripes on a uniform to understand who's in charge."

  "Show some respect," Leo barked at Finch. Well, Leo did outrank him. I wanted to laugh. Leo seldom got his underwear in a twist, but Finch had tied it in several knots, by the look on Leo's face.

  "In trouble, are we?" Brett stood in the doorway. He'd heard the conversation from a hallway away, just as any werewolf could.

  "Shut it," Finch snarled and stalked out of the kitchen.

  "I see why he hasn't been promoted recently," Brett shook his head. "Poor attitude."

  "I think the term poor is understating it," I said. Brett laughed.

  * * *

  "Those ass-wipes have struck again," Auggie huffed into his cell.

  "Where this time?" I asked.

  "Cordell, Oklahoma," he said. "Walked into a shop and ended up burning it to the ground. Three dead, this time-the owner and two customers."

  "Dearest, they are hitting places where Ashe employed power," Val said softly beside me. We were lying together in bed after a long and exhausting day. Auggie's call interrupted our rest.

  "How are they reading that?" I asked, turning to Val.

  Auggie, who hadn't heard Val's comment, demanded to know what I meant.

  "Auggie, hold on," I said. "I have to ask Val something."

  "They may have a spelled artifact of some sort," Val said. "One that perceives spent power and works i
n a way similar to that of a radiation detection device. When Ashe was young, he hadn't learned to deactivate a site or shield its detection after employing his power."

  "What about us?" I was worried immediately.

  "Larentii power is natural and cannot be detected by any spell or artifact," he replied. "The gods and other powerful beings must shield or disguise their signature. Most already know this. The Mighty Hand was forced into his power much too soon, before he gained adulthood. Pockets of power residue are only to be expected. It should not matter, as the gates the Elemaiya use on Earth have been closed against them. These four, as you know, used conventional means to facilitate their arrival."

  I blinked at Val for several seconds, wondering how to explain all that to Colonel August Hunter. "Auggie, we have problems," I said.

  * * *

  West Wing-Residence

  He studied her. In all their time together, she'd never suspected a thing. He missed Hal's advice, but then that hadn't been Hal. He'd only known him as Hal.

  "Dear, does this dress look appropriate for the OPEC meeting?" she asked.

  Yes, he was Graye Sanders, the President's husband and First Gentleman-to everyone else. He knew the truth. She certainly didn't. It had taken careful maneuvering on his part, and on Hal's part while he still lived, to keep him away from that stupid bitch Corinne.

  He'd shied away from the camera from the beginning, even telling journalists that he didn't want to distract anyone's attention away from his wife and her position at the White House. That had inadvertently been the best decision he and Hal had made.

  It meant he was still operating in the shadows-there were goals to accomplish, after all. Now that Corinne was dead or at least gone-his wife hadn't indicated otherwise for more than a year-he felt it safe to come out of the shadows and implement the Backup Plan.

  * * *

  Corinne

  I wished for Rafe while Val, Leo and I studied the burned ruin of a small business in Cordell, Oklahoma.

  Sunset had come and gone, so emergency lights were employed as local authorities and the OSBI rummaged through the wreckage for clues. Val held a shield about us, preventing our detection while we watched.

  "I'll get Auggie," I said. "He should see this."

  "Shield yourself," Val instructed.

  "On it, honey," I said and folded space.

  Auggie didn't seem surprised to see me. Matt sat in his office, as if he were waiting for me, too. I gave him half a frown before transporting both to Cordell.

  Auggie cursed when he saw the rubble. Matt's brows knitted together but he didn't say anything. "Where's Opal?" I asked.

  "I sent her back to Dublin," Matt said, refusing to take his eyes off the scene. "She's attempting to track the Zoran clone, but isn't having much luck. Bekzi is guarding those left at the beach house. How's the weather in your part of Canada?"

  "Not so hot," I replied.

  "Hmmph." Matt refused to laugh.

  "You know, maybe Brett or Mr. Winkler could help us out, here," I said. "What we need is someone who can scent where those fuckers went, unless they skipped or relocated or whatever the hell they do. I understand doing it more than once or twice a day may be too much for some of them."

  "Good point," Val turned in my direction. "If they relocated here, they may be saving energy before relocating to their next target."

  "I'll call Winkler," Matt pulled out his cell phone. "Want to pick him up?" he turned to me and asked.

  "I'll pick him up," I agreed. After all, a Sirenali couldn't hide mundane scents. They could only conceal themselves and those about them from detection by the powerful. Unless the Elemaiya thought to shield the ground they walked on, and it was my guess they didn't have the talent, then a good tracker could follow their trail.

  "I'll be back," I said and disappeared.

  * * *

  I almost gasped when I saw Winkler. No, he looked exactly as he had when I'd seen him before. This time, what I read in his face wasn't pretty.

  Yes, I researched his background when I read the history of Le-Ath Veronis. There was a gaping hole in that history, however, according to the Larentii account of things.

  Somehow, Winkler had been saved from his own suicidal plan of handing his son the Dallas Pack by forcing him to make a challenge against his own father. Sadly, there was no record of who'd actually done the saving.

  It had to be someone powerful enough to pull him back from the point of death, because his son had obeyed Winkler's wishes and torn out his throat.

  I'd never wanted to give someone a lecture so badly in my life as I contemplated the aging werewolf. Gray was showing at his temples and there were lines in his face that wouldn't be seen in the future.

  Winkler was tired. Tired of the everyday problems that demanded his attention. Tired of seeing his contemporaries fall. Tired of living without the woman he loved. Tired of waiting for another wolf to challenge him for the Dallas Pack.

  Therefore, he intended to do what his father had done before him-demand that his son take his place in the tradition of any Pack-by killing the Packmaster in a challenge.

  Come the full moon in two months, Winkler intended to die.

  "Does your nose still work?" I asked, ignoring the vision of a large wolf with his throat ripped apart.

  "It works fine. If Lissa were here, she'd be better, but she's not here." He tossed out a hand.

  Lissa. Queen Lissa-of Le-Ath Veronis. He had no idea. I was still working on the conundrum of who'd been there to bring Winkler back, leave a doppelgänger in his place and haul him into the future before handing him over to the Saa Thalarr.

  Damn.

  "Well, I'll buy the chicken-fried steak if you'll do some tracking for us," I said.

  "At Don's Restaurant in Del City?"

  "If that's what you want."

  "I'm ready," he said, shoving his chair back and standing. Dressed in black jeans, boots and a polo, he was still handsome enough for the cover of a men's magazine. I didn't tell him that. Instead, I transported him to Cordell, where the others waited.

  * * *

  "Here's where the trail ends," Winkler sighed as we stood outside a local restaurant, which was now closed for the evening. Even the sign that spelled out Betsy's in green neon was dark in the window.

  "You think they relocated from inside?" Matt asked.

  "I can get us inside to check," I offered.

  "Do it," Matt jerked his head toward the door.

  It was-and wasn't-a mistake.

  * * *

  Captain Brett Walker

  I'd learned plenty about scents in my brief association with the Dallas Packmaster. He'd told me to follow my gut, which in wolf terms meant instinct. Something about Dr. Farrell smelled off to me. I realized it when he took a barstool two down from mine-and next to Jen's.

  What I didn't know how to do was confront him about it-or whether that was even wise. After all, how do you tell the man who saved your life that something doesn't feel right with him?

  No, it wasn't a physical illness-as far as I could tell, he was in good health. Something whispered that it was mental or emotional, but I couldn't fathom the truth or the reason behind that notion.

  Whatever it was, it made my gut churn. I didn't like it.

  My wolf liked it even less. I realized I was growling softly when Dr. Farrell patted Jen's shoulder. They were human and didn't hear. For that, I was glad. I was determined to watch closely, however.

  From now on.

  * * *

  Corinne

  Dead customers were piled in a corner, with the wait staff and cooks piled atop them. If Val hadn't shielded us, we'd have been hit by the first blast leveled by one of the Dark Elemaiya.

  Winkler was already wolf by the time the second blast came, which knocked out the window behind us and rattled chunks of tempered glass onto the sidewalk outside.

  I cannot get a location on them-there must be a Sirenali here, Val informed me.

 
; Matt was realizing the same thing-somewhere, at the back of this small restaurant, four Elemaiya and at least one Sirenali hid themselves from us while one leveled power blasts in our direction.

  I'm getting behind them, I told Val, then folded space before he could protest. I found them in the kitchen, all facing the front where the others were-except one.

  The Sirenali.

  Before any of them realized I was there, I extended power and Pulled the Sirenali away, then folded space to the beach house in Port Aransas.

  It was then, after I put my hands on him, that I realized the damage that had been done to him at a very young age.

  * * *

  Matt Michaels, Director

  Joint NSA-Homeland Security Department

  Something changed. Valegar and I knew it the moment it happened. Suddenly, all four Elemaiya were visible to our power searches.

  Did Corinne destroy the Sirenali? I asked Val mentally as I leveled a blast of my own toward the kitchen area where the four were hiding.

  Winkler, in wolf form and released from Val's shield, leapt toward the kitchen. I barely had time to throw a shield around him before he had one Elemaiya by the throat, neatly biting his head off with one vicious jerk.

  Val took a more direct approach, by eliminating the wall between the kitchen and dining area, revealing the other three to us. Winkler savaged a second one while Val separated the particles of the other two.

  "Where's Corinne and the Sirenali?" I asked as Winkler regained his human form. He was naked and bloody, didn't give a damn that he was and spit on the bodies of the two he'd killed.

  "She's at the beach house," Val turned bright blue eyes on me. "With the Sirenali. She says if we want to kill him, we have to, in her words, go through her, first."

  "Damn," I grumbled before turning to the pile of bodies in a front corner of the restaurant. There had to be at least fifteen people in that pile.

  "Ah. I see I have arrived too late," Belen said as he appeared nearby. Val held up a hand to prevent Winkler from growling at the new arrival.

  * * *

  Corinne

  His name was Gerrett. He told me so in mindspeech. His own mother had cut out his tongue at age five before selling him for a very high price.

  There are others like me, he said as I tended the burns that festered upon his body. Those four Elemaiyan assholes had tortured him; that was obvious.