I couldn't see Winkler's children from where I sat, though I craned my neck to find them. Someone played somber organ music and it made me wonder what Winkler might have thought about that. He liked jazz and classic rock and roll. He'd been one hundred forty-two when he'd died. Still young for a werewolf, if you weren't Packmaster. Winkler was gone fifty-three years after I'd seen him last.
The church was packed with werewolves, local celebrities, media and the curious. It made me wonder how many of those present had truly loved him. Winkler had been a powerful man—and an important one. Now he was gone. He'd given his position as Dallas Packmaster to one of his children in the only way he could.
The service was long, flowery and boring. Winkler would have hated it. Hated it with a capital H. The burial was supposed to be private, with only family and close friends. My interpretation of that was werewolves only. That's why I rode with the casket as mist.
A separate service was held graveside and I recognized the place when we arrived. Wilburn Ranch had changed little since I'd seen it last. Randall Wilburn was there but his human wife had died years earlier. Daryl Harper had come, as the current Grand Master instead of Weldon's Second. Weldon had disappeared to join the Saa Thalarr, leaving Daryl to fight for his right to hold the Grand Master's position.
I stood back from the others at the gravesite, shielding myself to keep them from seeing or scenting me. Several werewolves spoke, standing behind the casket—it sat next to the open grave, which lay near two tombstones. Winkler's parents were buried there. Daryl, as the highest-ranking werewolf present, spoke last. He talked about Winkler's life and his contributions to both humans and werewolves. And then he talked about Winkler's exploits. Then the weirdest thing of all happened.
"Winkler once hired a vampire to work for him," Daryl began, as if pulling up a favorite memory. "A female vampire, and those are extremely rare. I won't go into the reasons why he hired her, but he did. She worked as a bodyguard for him and he even loaned her to my father once, to protect him during a spring summit. That vampire saved my father's life and held the peace between vampires and werewolves. You can thank William Winkler, now, for helping to preserve the peace you have with the vampires. The little vampire died, I'm sad to say. But my father made her a member of the Pack and that stands to this day. If she were here, I think she'd tell you that she loved Winkler.
"She is here and she did love Winkler." I walked through rows of standing werewolves as fast as I could. Daryl was shocked, I could tell, when I stood across from Winkler's grave, gazing steadily at him.
"Lissa?" That's all he managed to say.
Chapter 11
"You knew my dad." It was a statement and not a question. William Winkler Junior stood beside me as we stared at the wolf inside the open casket. Daryl managed to get all the others away for a private moment. Winkler's daughter was still having a hard time with all this and hated her brother at the moment. She'd left with the others—they'd gone to Randall Wilburn's home to sit down and cool off. It was June in Texas and hot outside.
"I knew your dad." I reached out to stroke the fur around Winkler's ears. He'd died in wolf form—he wouldn't change back. "I've seen him fight. He was something to see." I struggled to come to grips with the fact that a few of the wolves remembered me when the vampires didn't. Maybe it didn't matter with them while it did with the vamps.
"I hope he didn't suffer," Winkler Jr. brushed tears away as he stared at his father's wolf.
"Honey, look at me." He looked a little like his father. Same dark eyes and black hair. Nearly as tall as his daddy, too. He turned those familiar, dark eyes to my face. "Your dad struggled with this, too," I told him. "It ate at him the whole time—his father made him do the same thing so the Pack would come to him instead of going to the Second. Trust me, I knew Phil. Phil didn't need to be in charge of the Pack and he didn't need to be mated to your Aunt Whitney. Phil wasn't the best person in the world. Your Grandfather forced Winkler to challenge and then pretty much threw the fight. Your dad gave this as a gift to you and as a gift to his Pack. Don't sully that gift by carrying this load of guilt around with you your whole life, like he did."
"I understand your words and I hope I can see things that way someday," he told me. "Right now, I feel like shit."
"Yeah. I know," I said. "But you have a Pack to run. Don't let this get in the way of doing your job. You're in charge, now. Your dad knew his job and he did it well. I hope he taught you what he knew." I brushed the fur on Winkler's face one last time before pulling my hand away.
"How are you here? Out in the sun, I mean," Winkler's son asked. "They call me Wayne, by the way, just so we wouldn't get confused." He closed the lid on the casket with a sigh.
"Strange things have happened since I was last here," I said. "And you wouldn't believe most of it if I told you."
Wayne raised his hand and two werewolves who'd waited patiently in the distance came forward. They'd be lowering the casket. Wayne took my arm and we walked toward the Wilburn's house on the hill.
"Lissa?" Whitney came forward when Wayne and I walked into the house. She was extremely pregnant, with Sam standing protectively beside her. I could see why she hadn't gone to the gravesite in the heat.
"Hi, baby. How are you?" I wasn't prepared for the crushing hug she gave me. She was wiping tears away when she let me go. Sam's hug wasn't quite so hard, but it was hard enough.
"Sam is Packmaster in Corpus, now," Whitney was proud of him, I could tell.
"From Shirley or somebody else?" I asked.
"Shirley," Sam nodded. Well, she'd always irritated me, when she hadn't lifted a finger to protect Weldon.
"I'm proud of you," I patted his shoulder.
"This is my twin sister, Wynter," Wayne brought his sister forward. She followed him reluctantly. "Will you tell her what you told me, earlier?"
I did. And I had a larger audience, before it was over. Daryl came to stand next to me as I explained the gift that Winkler had given to his children, and about their grandfather doing the same thing.
"Don't think to challenge Wayne, either. If he fights like his daddy, I don't have any hope for an opponent," I warned the others. Some of them laughed and nodded in agreement.
"Lissa, are you going to stay?" Daryl asked after a while. The guests had all gone and now it was just Daryl and Winkler's family.
"No, I've already stayed longer than I anticipated," I said. "It was good to see you, and even better that you remembered me."
"Lissa, tell me how you're here, now, instead of a pile of ash, somewhere," Daryl asked.
"That is a strange tale," I said, before changing the subject. "Have you ever heard of Harifa Edus?"
"No. What is that?"
"It was once the planet where the werewolves lived," I said. "All the werewolves. Harifa Edus means Hunter's Eyes. It had six moons, so the werewolves got to run six nights a month. And it wasn't far from Le-Ath Veronis, which means Heart of the Vampire."
"Are you making this up?" Daryl wore a crooked smile. He thought I was teasing him.
"Nope. On your father's furry ears I swear, I'm not making this up."
"That would be incredible—a planet with six moons. And only werewolves there, so we wouldn't have to hide."
"Yeah. A tale you can tell your grandkids," I said. "I have to go now. I'll tell your father hello." I turned to mist and folded away.
* * *
Everything crumbles to dust in a hundred thousand years. Stones still mapped out a few roads, but that was all. All was quiet on Harifa Edus—only plant life existed now, with a few insects and fish. Werewolves wouldn't be able to survive on fish. They needed game, not just to hunt but also to eat. I figured a few domesticated animals and fields of crops wouldn't go amiss, either. I'd seen Winkler eat vegetables and salad. He seemed to enjoy it, too. I intended to do something about Harifa Edus, but there were other things demanding my attention first. I went to energy to attend to those things.
* * *
Beliphar was about to fall. Those who'd been shipped in were infecting the population quickly—the ones enhanced with Ra'Ak DNA were spreading their poison across the planet. I ferreted out the plan—infect the planet and then send out those infected and transformed soldiers to infect others. Where was the end of all of this? Where had it started, even? I didn't have time to ponder that problem at the moment; if I were going to save any of these pitiful souls, it had to be now. As energy, I surrounded the planet and pulled away what I could. The children and their parents, mostly—the ones who hadn't mistreated others. I carried them to the High Demons' world and left them, frightened and weeping, on the streets of Veshtul. I'd turned every starship on Beliphar to dust, too, before I left.
* * *
"They just showed up? With no word?" Jayd growled as smoke poured from his nostrils.
"Jayd, calm down—the current population is feeling sympathy for these people and are offering help. This helps them, too, you know—they've been in the same situation. They can prop each other up," Glinda reassured her High Demon mate. "You were saying yesterday that we needed to send people out to the other cities and towns, but we didn't have enough to send. Now we do."
"Fine. Where did they come from? How did they get here? Kyler and Kiarra said they didn't bring them."
"I think it might be Lissa," Glinda said quietly. She didn't want to say it too loudly; Garde had been like a Lion with a sore paw for the past five months, ever since Lissa's disappearance.
"If it was Lissa, then we're okay," Jayd sighed. "She wouldn't bring anyone that had a criminal background."
"You can count on that," Glinda agreed.
* * *
"Child, I will only allow you to go to the winery after we finish our lesson," Flavio informed Roff sternly.
"Father, this batch needs to be separated and bottled."
"I understand, but this is also important. I am going to teach you how to take blood properly. I have someone coming who will bite you so you will know how it is done. You may do this on your own afterward without harming your donor. A few comesuli have already approached me, offering their blood to the winged one."
"Who is coming to teach me, father? Do I know them?"
"You do not. You have not been introduced, child. That is why I asked him."
"What is his name?"
"Lucas."
"I do not recognize that name."
"As it should be. It is preferable that you do not know the one who bites you. This way, you have no expectations."
"He is here, father. I hear him at the door." Roff smiled. He enjoyed his enhanced abilities. His nose was so much better, now. Winemaking was easier, too—he could smell the stages of fermentation. Lucas was led into Flavio's private study.
"You must stand still, like so," Flavio placed Roff in the center of the floor. "Now, Lucas, take him through the steps."
"You must hold the back of the head or the neck, so that they cannot move—your fangs will damage fragile skin," Lucas wasn't as tall as Roff—Roff topped six feet after the turn. Lucas stood on tiptoe as he gripped the back of Roff's neck firmly. "Do not allow them to move, understand?" Roff attempted to nod—Lucas' grip on his neck prevented it. "See, no moving, no nodding. Hold their body against yours, in case they fall or twist in your hold," Lucas pulled Roff against him. "Now, you may give a kiss, if you are so inclined," Lucas kissed Roff, causing Roff to blink in confusion. "You may also place a kiss over the artery," Lucas leaned in and kissed Roff's neck, nuzzling it lightly. Roff whimpered faintly. "Then bite gently; your fangs are quite sharp and will pierce the skin easily," Lucas breathed on Roff's neck and then sank his fangs into the newly-turned vampire's throat. Roff was held tightly against Lucas as his body convulsed with the climax.
"What do you think of the bite?" Flavio asked after getting Roff settled into a chair and offering him a bottle of blood substitute. Lucas had left shortly after the lesson was over.
"The climax was pleasurable, the kiss was not." Roff drank from his bottle.
"I understand. You should have seen the one who bit me the first time," Flavio grimaced. "He was ancient and not so gentle. Father and I had an argument about it later, when I was older."
"May I go to the winery now?"
"I will come with you." Flavio smiled at his vampire child.
"But I was going to fly, Father, and you hate it when I take you flying."
"Child, it is frightening to be held aloft like that. I will take myself and meet you there."
"Good." Roff laughed at his sire and headed for the door.
* * *
"Little girl, what are you doing here instead of going home? They are worried sick about you."
I'd found Weldon sitting in front of the home he shared with Fox, Wlodek and Fox's other mates. Most of them were elsewhere, thankfully.
"I just wanted to see you, that's all," I said. "And ask you a question."
Weldon blinked at me for a moment and then sighed. "I may know what you're going to ask, but go ahead."
"Why did some of the werewolves remember me?"
"I'm not sure, Lissa. But they remembered, even if the others didn't. Daryl and I mentioned you a time or two, but most had no recollection. Winkler was the one who argued your case hardest, but convincing the vampires was like talking to a block of concrete. He backed off after a while and never said your name again. The vamps thought you were dead in the beginning, and then the memories were stripped away. Come on, I have something to show you." Weldon heaved himself off the bench, the space between the bench and the table was a little tight for his large frame.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Probably right back where you came from," Weldon replied and folded me away.
"I didn't come here; I just went to Winkler's funeral." I was staring at Winkler's old mansion—it looked as if it had been rebuilt.
"I didn't bring you to see the house; I brought you to see what's next door." Weldon pointed me in the other direction.
"This is where the house was that Winkler bought for me," I whispered.
"Yes, and he razed it to the ground twenty-five years after he was told you were dead. He had this park put up instead." We walked through trees over the four-acre tract. I heard water splashing and when we walked past the outer ring of oaks and maples, I saw the fountain. Sitting in the center of the fountain, up high, with the water dripping off it, was something that looked like the peak of a roof with someone sitting on top of it.
"It's you," Weldon said softly and led me to the edge of the fountain. It was me; doing my best roof sitting, my knees drawn up to my chest. The fountain had been designed so the water would run down the slope of the roof and drop into the pool below.
"I understand Winkler built this for the neighborhood kids and they'd come and play while he'd sit on a bench and watch them, right over there." Weldon put an arm around my shoulders and led me to the bench. We sat down.
"I miss him," I said, trying not to cry.
"I know. It's not the same, is it?"
"No." I shook my head, willing the tears not to fall. "And now Roff doesn't remember me."
"How did you find out about that? Have you sneaked back and then left again?"
"No. I can know things, too, Weldon, if I want to." I wiped away the tear that fell.
"Kiarra says that we don't fully understand what you are, Lissa. That now you help balance the worlds of light with the worlds of the Dark Realm. That the mix that you are is bringing everything back to what it should be."
"And it's forever, Weldon. I had to make that agreement, to be able to do what I did on the High Demons' world. I can't walk away from it or sleep for a hundred thousand years. If Shala had succeeded in staking me, my physical body may have died but my energy existence would have survived. I don't know how long I can do this without going crazy."
"Lissa, we'll help you," Weldon put his arm around me.
"I know. Weldon, I miss my wolf. I never told h
im how much I really loved him, even if he did pick up strange women in bars or stupid Kellee on a night of the full moon. I was afraid to go to bed with him, because of Gavin. Now he's gone and I won't ever get him back."
"I know, baby," Weldon held me tighter.
"I'm thinking about going to look for a world where the conditions are primitive and there are plenty of werewolves," I attempted to straighten myself up. "I want to move them to Harifa Edus, if they want to go."
"Then I may have a suggestion," Weldon smiled at me.
* * *
"You know, I always wondered at your unnatural fondness for flannel," I teased Weldon. He wore a flannel shirt but it was open, and he had a white T-shirt on under it.
"Come on, we have to go talk to some werewolves. There's no time to discuss my clothing habits." Weldon was pulling me along.
We were in the middle of nowhere. Definitely in the middle of a forest, but then what did I know? I followed Weldon, getting slapped in the face more often than not with stray tree limbs and low-hanging branches. When we came out of the trees, we found a clearing with plenty of log homes spaced close together. I imagined that they'd all been hastily built, their residents clustered together for protection. The smell of werewolf was everywhere. "What is it with you guys and log homes?" I hissed at Weldon.
"Shhh," Weldon said and kept going.
"Weldon?" A werewolf stepped out of his log home. He was dressed worse than Weldon, I noticed—his shirt was homespun and dyed in gaudier colors. He wore rough boots that looked as if they'd been made centuries ago and his hair was long and unevenly cut—as if he'd done the cutting himself. Everything about him spoke of a hard life.
"Mace, this is Lissa," Weldon brought me forward.
Blood Rebellion (Blood Destiny #7) Page 18