"Hancock left a message—said he picked up Kelvin's female collaborator in Dallas for questioning," Winkler said. "Funny, don't you think, that he was working on parts of this from the opposite end?"
"I think he has information he's not handing over, that's what I think," Weldon grumped.
"Possible," Winkler agreed. He and Weldon drove through pouring rain in silence for a while afterward.
Rain was still coming down when Winkler's watch went off and he traded driving duty with Weldon, who would finish the drive into Tillamook. Winkler pulled Lissa's bag into the back seat and sat there with her, waiting for the sun to go down completely before getting her out.
* * *
"Is it still raining?" I stretched and yawned a little.
"At least you haven't been driving through it," Winkler grumbled at my side. He handed me a unit of blood so I nipped the top off and drank.
"Did Mr. Fuzzy get wet?" I gave him a smile.
"Mr. Fuzzy has been dry for a while." Winkler was still grumbling. Okay, he and I weren't talking about the same thing.
We were driving westward on the Wilson River Highway, and when we caught glimpses of the river, it was easy to see that it was overflowing its banks. Not a good sign by my way of thinking and the werewolves would be running in the wet during full moon the following evening. I'd never seen them go on a hunt in the rain. This was going to be interesting and possibly not in a good way. We arrived in Tillamook without incident (other than the pouring rain), and then headed north on the Oregon Coast Highway, where we ran into trouble. Not only was the road flooded at one point—we couldn't go any farther north—but there were two cars nearly covered in water ahead of us. Three other cars were there; two of the drivers had already called the police but the water was rising too rapidly. The driver of one flooded car was already on top of his vehicle; the other driver was climbing out, a baby in her arms.
"Holy fuck," I muttered. "We have to do something."
Weldon was nodding and taking his shirt off when I grabbed his arm. "No, let me take care of this," I said. "You and Winkler be ready on the sidelines." My change to mist that night broke all records. Less than two minutes it took, even as the water was rising faster. The other spectators were screaming; they didn't have ropes or anything else to facilitate a rescue. Winkler was trying to keep them calmed down and prevent them from jumping into the water. Weldon was the one blocking me from their view so I could change.
I have no idea what those people were going through, other than feeling the stark terror of impending drowning when they all turned to mist after I touched them. I learned that I could carry multiple people that way, picking up the woman and her baby first and then heading toward the man who was just about to be swept off the roof of his car. They became solid again the moment they were dropped on the very edge of the water, where it was lapping the tires of Winkler's SUV. Now I had to turn back to myself and lay compulsion.
"The man saved the woman and her baby," I told the three watchers who nodded obediently. Then I went to the man and the woman both and told them the same thing—that the man had leapt into the water and let the current carry him to the woman's car where he managed to rescue her and her baby. He'd gotten them to the edge of the water where Winkler and Weldon managed to pull them to safety. That was good enough.
The police had arrived by then and wrapped all three of them tightly in blankets before handing them over to a waiting ambulance. The hospital would check them over and make sure everything was all right. They also took witness statements. The compulsion worked without a hitch, with input from Winkler and Weldon, of course. I was more than thankful that none of the witnesses had a recording of the event on their cell phones or anything, or pictures even. That would have required even more compulsion, along with Winkler's skills. My phone had a camera but I'd never learned to use it. Winkler was the gadget-oriented one.
We were forced to find another hotel since the highway leading to ours was flooded. It might not have been as nice as the one we'd originally booked but it was dry inside and away from the river, which was fine. My fear, the entire time I'd been going after those people, was that the woman and her child would be swept away before I could get to them. The water was nearly up to the woman's waist when I arrived and I had no idea what would happen to my mist if I actually dived into water myself.
Winkler was waving a newspaper in my face when I woke the following evening; it held an account of the incident—modified of course—and everyone was calling the rescued man a hero. He was also interviewed by several nationwide television crews. Fuck. I hoped the compulsion held since he was going to be recounting that story for a while, it seemed. Winkler and Weldon were mentioned as two travelers who'd happened by and helped pull victims the final feet to safety. Good. We didn't need Winkler's name in the news one week for getting arrested on a bogus murder charge and then called a hero the next for saving flood victims.
The rain was lighter at least when we headed toward the forested area where the local Pack was meeting to run. Both Winkler and Weldon were itching to get started; I could see that while we drove. I thought Winkler was going to start yipping and howling before we could park the SUV in a muddy field where several other vehicles were already sitting.
Most of the werewolves were already turned; they were only waiting for the Grand Master and his temporary Second. Clothes were flung aside and Weldon and Winkler both changed on the run, almost. I gathered up the clothing, placed it on the hood of the truck and turned to mist as fast as I could, satisfied with the knowledge that the more I turned, the faster I was getting. It might become something of a weapon after all.
I misted over the Pack as they ran. The wolves scared up two deer and gave chase. Nothing on four legs gets away from werewolves, I discovered. They ran those deer into exhaustion before they felled them and all twenty-six werewolves fed. I held back from that, watching from a distance in case Weldon or Winkler needed me. They did a little more hunting, bringing down one more deer before the wee hours. Weldon, Winkler and the others wandered back to their vehicles afterward and I waited while they dressed. What surprised me, however, was the female that followed along behind Winkler.
"Here, drive her car back," Winkler plucked the woman's car keys from her hand and tossed them to me. Okay, at least this wasn't a bar. That didn’t keep her from being a floozie in my eyes. Yeah, I shouldn't be judgmental, I know. Maybe this was the One. How was I to know? Also, I should know better than to feel jealous. That didn't keep me from feeling a slight twinge, anyway. Winkler wasn't for me. Wasn't ever meant to be. I knew that. That didn't keep me from feeling like crap as I drove her little import to the hotel, trailing behind Winkler and the Grand Master.
The connecting door was closed between the rooms afterward, but Weldon and I were chased out of his room because we could hear every bit of what was going on. And she wasn't quiet, let me tell you. Weldon got an early cup of coffee and we talked for about forty minutes before I had to go back upstairs to sleep—in Weldon's room this time.
"So, what happened to Daryl's mother?" I asked.
"She moved on after Daryl was born," he said. "Female werewolves back then weren't obligated to give their mates two children. She married somebody from one of the Chicago area Packs. Daryl has two step-brothers."
"Has he met them?"
"Hell, I've met them," Weldon grumbled. "I'm the Grand Master, remember?"
"Yeah. So, did you change the rule or whatever about having two?"
"Yes I did, at one of the meetings. The females, if they go to a male, have to produce two children from that union before they can go to someone else. As you've likely noticed, most werewolf matches are arranged and love isn't involved all that much until those first two kids are produced."
"Yeah. I figured that out with Whitney and Daryl," I said. "I took three bullets over that one."
"And Daryl and Whitney are both grateful, as are their mates," Weldon nodded.
"So
, what about you?" I asked. "Surely there's a female out there for you."
"I have one, only she's not Pack," he said. "She doesn't know what I am and is quite surprised that I care for her," Weldon went on. "She's in her early forties, still looks pretty good, isn't as thin as a stick, puts up with me in the sack and I love her as much as I can love anybody."
"Looks like you're happy with that," I said. "Does she live in Grand Forks, or something?"
"Just outside town. Owns a ranch there. We see each other two or three times a month if I'm lucky. She's busy, I'm busy. I'll be glad to get back, though."
"Yeah," I said. The trip was beginning to wear on me, too. "I have to go to bed soon and if I don't go now, I won't have time to get my bath or brush my teeth."
"At least you won't have to listen to Winkler having a good time," Weldon grumbled. His empty paper coffee cup was tossed into the trash and we went back upstairs.
There was still noise going on, making me wonder how long Winkler could go on before reaching exhaustion. Well, none of my business. I was clean and my teeth brushed when Weldon covered me up on one side of the bed. He crawled in on the other side and I briefly thought it awkward that I was to sleep with the Grand Master before my eyes shut with the dawn and it didn't matter anyway.
The woman was still there in Winkler's room when I rose, only she'd gone out to pick up some clothing from somewhere. "I'm Kellee, with two E's," she informed me perkily. Well, I was dumbfounded, with three D's. I shook her hand when she held it out, informing me she was there for the wedding, acting as bridesmaid to the bride. Whether I wanted to know or not, Kellee told me all about the dresses, flowers and every tiny detail of the wedding. I wanted to yawn in her face.
We went to dinner later with the new Packmaster and his Second, along with Kellee, of course. I was getting pretty good at gauging werewolf ages, too. Since I'd known Daryl and Winkler's ages, plus Whitney's, I knew Kellee was in her early twenties.
My mother would have described her as not having a lick of sense. She was giving Winkler an ego boost, though, making him out to be the big, tough werewolf and he was eating it up. More power to her, I guess. I wondered why she hadn't been forced to mate or marry or whatever they called it, but learned that her father was a Packmaster and whatever his little girl wanted, she got. It looked like she wanted Winkler. She was also doing a lot of talking during the meal. I just sat on Weldon's other side so Kellee wouldn't get upset if Winkler was sitting between two females.
More noise came from Winkler's room that night. I don't know how Weldon managed to sleep during the whole thing—he must have been really tired. The wedding and confirmation took place the following evening and Kellee was turning and smiling at Winkler the whole time she stood up with her friend. Weldon performed the ceremony, accepting the girl from her former Pack and turning her over to her new husband's Pack. I had to put all of it out of my mind and play nice with the two older werewolf women who sat beside me and asked personal questions. Eventually I told them I wasn't allowed to say how vampires had sex, just because I don't like answering those kinds of questions and the whole thing pissed me off.
Gavin called later, too, wanting to talk. I took my conversation outside Weldon's room so he wouldn't be disturbed. I also sent out emails to Merrill, Franklin and Charles and even checked in with Dalroy and Rhett, just to say hello.
"Is Kellee going to be traveling with us?" I asked Weldon the following night as I tossed clothing into my suitcase. We were driving back to Portland and would be flying to California the next day. I don't think Winkler and I had spoken two words to each other since Kellee had come along.
"She'll be with us for the rest of the trip," Weldon grumbled. He wasn't getting Winkler's attention, either.
"Maybe you should send him to Dallas and ask Davis to replace him," I said, zipping my bag.
"That's not a bad idea," Weldon considered the suggestion. "Davis certainly helped us out with the arrests and such. He got Winkler's attorneys out in force and sniffed out Kelvin so he could be picked up."
"Yeah." I'd called Davis to start with to get the ball rolling but I was used to not getting credit for anything.
Weldon presented the idea to Winkler later, and to say Winkler and Kellee didn't like the idea would have been an understatement. "I'll send for Glen; Kellee wants to see California and New Mexico," Winkler grumbled, pulling out his cell to make the call. I wanted to mimic that statement behind his back but I didn't. I went to the roof of the hotel for the first time in a long time instead. Glen met up with us in San Francisco; Kellee and Winkler left the Grand Master with Glen and went shopping. If Winkler ended up with Kellee, Whitney was going to have a shopping buddy, at least. Glen had caught the first flight out of Dallas and took over what Winkler had been doing up until that time. I made sure I got the key to my cooler back from Winkler and kept both of them.
Weldon had a dinner meeting with the San Francisco Packmaster while we were there. He wasn't new; he was a good friend of Weldon's and a big supporter. He was also one of the few gay Packmasters. There were other gays in the werewolf world, male and female I learned, but they seldom went after the Packmaster position. Glen went with Weldon and that allowed me to explore San Francisco on my own. It felt like freedom to me as I wandered along Fisherman's Wharf, rode a cable car and generally had a good time. It was foggy, so I didn't get to see the Golden Gate or Alcatraz through the mist, which was a shame. I'd never been to the city before and might not get to come back for a while, if ever.
A man tried to pick me up while I sipped a glass of wine in a bar along the wharf. He wasn't going to give up easily, so an apology and a little compulsion turned his attention elsewhere. Tony called me while I was sitting there, finishing my wine. He'd tracked me on my new phone. Big surprise.
"So, how's San Francisco?" he asked.
"It's fine," I said. "A little foggy so I can't see the bridge, but it's nice otherwise. How did you know where I am?"
"Winkler's pilots have to file a flight plan," I could hear the grin in his voice. Yeah, the man knew too much for his own good and I told him that. He laughed.
"So, what's up?" I asked.
"I got some info on that Saxom guy." That made me stop for a minute. Merrill had evaded the question every time I asked and I discovered quickly that the topic wasn't up for discussion. Nobody wanted me to know. I'd even asked Gavin about it. At first, he'd ignored my email questions but finally told me that it was confidential information and he wasn't allowed to give it out. But here Tony was, calling with information. I wanted to hear this. "What did you find out?" I asked, my voice nearly breathless.
"He was a member of the Vampire Council who went bad," he said. "The information I got says the whole thing was hushed up, somehow. They didn't know about the children thing until that Kevin Miller kid spilled the beans."
"Just lovely," I said. "So they're hiding this. Why?"
"Don't know. Didn't get any information on what the guy did or anything that would cause the Council to declare him rogue. Or what happened to him. Obviously he's dead; that's what the kid said."
"Yeah. But if he was bad, how bad are his kids?" We were talking in generalities in case anyone was listening in. Another thought hit me. The vampire laws said you could turn up to ten. But if Saxom ignored that law like the two who'd turned me, how many could be out there now? They weren't registered with the Council; they'd have been aware of them if they were. "Did your source say how old he was?"
"Didn't get that info," Tony said. "They guard that closer than they guard the crown jewels."
I had a story about some of those crown jewels and I could never tell it. Too bad, Tony might find most of it amusing. "So, save the country and all that lately?" I asked instead.
"Every day," he teased.
"Man, you must be exhausted," I said. "What does your dry cleaner say when you take that super hero outfit in to get washed?"
"The last time they yelled because I got mustard on it,"
he replied.
"Yeah, save the world with one hand, eat a hotdog with the other," I teased.
"Exactly. We have to eat on the fly, you know."
"Very funny, mustard boy," I taunted.
"Damn, now my alter ego is out of the closet."
"I'm gonna post it on the internet," I said. "Along with one of those police artist sketches. That way they'll never be able to tell who it is."
"Hey, now, are you knocking police artists?"
"Yes."
"Just so I know where we stand."
"I'm standing in San Francisco. You're standing in your bedroom dressed in your mustard man costume that still has a stain on it that won't come out," I laughed.
"I wish I was there," he said.
"You know, I wish you were, too." I ended the call.
* * *
Our caravan stopped next in San Jose and did a confirmation with no problems. That one wasn't one of Lester's screw-ups. Our next stop was Sacramento, where Thomas Williams Jr. was waiting to be confirmed. I wanted to meet him. I'd watched his father die, helping to protect the Grand Master when Lester Briggs and his cronies attempted their coup. I'd sent him a note about it and he'd replied. His name was also signed on the bottom of the certificate naming me Pack. He had other family and I wondered if I'd get to meet them.
Kellee and Winkler were the first ones to meet Thomas and his brother and sister at dinner, but Thomas gave them the barest of civilities and came straight to me. He even kissed my hand and no other Packmaster had done that, outside Martin Walters.
"I can't tell you how glad I am to meet you," I said, smiling at him. He was handsome—around six feet tall as was his brother who was his twin. I wondered how often twin werewolves occurred but didn't ask. His brother, born a few minutes after Thomas, was named Theodore but he went by Teddy. Their sister, Leigh, gave me a hug. I was happy to hug her back. Thomas Williams Sr. had died with honor and courage and I told them that.
Blood Passage (Blood Destiny #2) Page 21