Russell and Will volunteered for my group. Brock and Radomir would go with Dragon, as would Merrill, Karzac and Daniel. Merrill offered to send Kyle with my group. I accepted. If she returned, I wanted Kiarra in my group, too. Who knew if that might happen?
* * *
"That's damn handy," Russell swore in his best Texas accent. I'd misted Will, Merrill and him into the Corpus Christi safe house. Nothing had changed, and there was no evidence that Saxom's rogues had returned. I'd set my passengers down in the kitchen the moment I determined we were alone.
"It is damn handy," I agreed. "I wish I could have misted this quickly in the past."
"It certainly would have saved time," Merrill said. "Did you make these improvements?" He studied the floor and countertops.
"Yes. It's a hobby. Something I wanted to do in my early life, but I can only do this in my spare time, now."
"Excellent work." He ran fingers over the granite countertop.
"Thank you. The Council will knock this down, now," I sighed.
"A craftsman's efforts are never wasted," Merrill said. "If there is even one person who appreciates them. Shall we go to the house where the woman was killed?"
"Yes." I gathered my passengers into my mist again and left the safe house behind for good.
* * *
"Packaging for microwave mac and cheese, plus candy wrappers and soda bottles," Daniel said. "That's what they found at the refinery early this morning."
We had two days before the meeting on the ship channel, and had gathered for another planning session at the beach house. "We found nothing at the safe house or the other location," I said. "The scents were old—they haven't bothered to check whether we'd been there. So far, everything still points to the refinery as the primary target."
"Police reported ten more people missing as of last night," Dragon growled. "Probably a food source for vampires and who knows what else. One of those missing is a police officer, and I worry about the investigation leading them near the refinery. More may die if that happens, and they'll move the hostages, forcing us to hunt them again."
"The Mayors of Port Aransas and Corpus Christi are announcing plans for evacuation of the area," Lion said. "Quite a few have left already, since the hurricane is a category four and heading right in this direction. Weather experts are predicting landfall roughly four hours after you're scheduled to meet on the ship channel." He blinked dark eyes in my direction, letting me know that Kiarra still seemed to be in control.
I wanted to sag in relief. I didn't. We had one more day to watch the storm and refine our assault on two locations. So much could go wrong in the interim.
* * *
"I can't get through to her. I've sent mindspeech," Pheligar said.
"Sit down," Nefrigar Pulled in a comfortable chair for his brother. "Have you fed? I can open the skylight for you."
"I can't remember," Pheligar rumbled. Nefrigar moved the tinted glass ceiling back with a thought, allowing bright sunlight to enter. "Will you delight in the knowledge that you were right and I admit it?"
"Brother, why would I delight in what has brought you misery? Have you approached the Wise Ones recently to learn of any new information?"
"No. I worry that she will spend herself completely so there will be nothing left. The enemy will devour her if that happens."
"I understand," Nefrigar nodded. He seldom employed human gestures, but this one fit the occasion.
"If I had acted in the past, I could step in to protect my mate. As I did not," Pheligar left the sentence hanging.
"You can do nothing, now, except wait."
"You do not understand the consequences, should she survive, brother. If I tell her I muted our M'Fiyah, she will be angry. If I tell her that the Wise Ones once saw our son, she will be angry. How can this be rectified at such a late moment?"
"If she survives, I suggest moving slowly toward a mutually acceptable conclusion. Allow your feelings to show in small increments. She will become used to it. When the time comes, it will readily be accepted."
"You do not know Kiarra," Pheligar huffed and disappeared.
"You have not fed sufficiently," Nefrigar spoke into the air about him.
* * *
"This one?" I held up a shell for Joey to see.
"Turkey wing—in local lingo. It's more commonly known as a zebra ark."
"Fascinating." I studied the shell in the morning light, cupping it in my hand so as not to damage it. Reddish-brown lines ran in a pattern across a rectangular half shell. It did resemble a turkey's wing, and I understood why it might be named as such.
"Look—a banded tulip." Joey held up another shell, perhaps two inches long, that bore a spire, a tail of sorts and a round body in between. As he'd said, it did have lines banding the surface.
"The storm is causing things to wash ashore that normally wouldn't," Lion joined us in the early-morning light. Joey was barefoot, his pants rolled above his ankles as he walked the soft sand on the beach, while I wore dress shoes and pants. Joey left neat footprints behind while the sand sucked at my shoes.
If I survived the upcoming ordeal, I was resolved to invest in a good pair of trainers and casual pants or button-up jeans.
"I haven't found a whole sand dollar yet," Joey pointed out. "They're all washing up in pieces."
"I worry that Kiarra may return to us the same way," Lion shook his head as he gazed eastward. We could see the clouds approaching with the storm; just that morning, the local news was filled with images of the traffic tie-ups as residents fled the coastal areas.
Local police had knocked on our door shortly after daybreak, informing us of the mandatory evacuation. Merrill placed compulsion and they left us behind, believing the house to be empty.
"Dragon says the hurricane has been upgraded to a category five," Lion said, handing a tiny, white shell to me. "Called a baby ear moon snail," he said and turned toward the house.
The shell was ear-shaped, pale and delicate. "How does anything live in this?" I wondered aloud.
"I'm amazed at how beautiful they are," Joey said, lifting a tiny, whole sand dollar from the surf. "It's as if an artist designed them, instead of nature."
"Perhaps nature is an artist, and goes by another name," I replied.
"Do you think she's okay?"
"I don't know. I hope so. That's what we have left, now. Hope."
* * *
"You think we will trouble ourselves over a storm?" Calhoun laughed. "You know we have the ability to weather the winds or leave in a fraction of a second. You have what you want in your sights. We shall have what we want as well."
Saxom frowned at the rogue godling. Calhoun had never said what he wanted. Moxas set up the meeting through the Ra'Ak somehow, and Saxom had grasped at the chance to take what he desired.
If the Saa Thalarr were destroyed in the process, all the better. "I'll make her pay for allowing that filth to touch her," Saxom hissed.
"That is your business," Calhoun waved away Saxom's words. "We want the planet; we have plans for it. It was classified as not worth saving, yet here they are, intending to rescue it."
"They will fail," Saxom muttered. "I'll see to it myself."
"Grand words," Calhoun replied with a sneer. "Prove them."
* * *
"Sixty miles an hour," Lion said as we watched short, squatty palms growing outside the media room whip and twist in rising winds. "Don't wear anything tonight that will blow about and obscure your vision."
"Understood. I'll let the others know when they rise."
"Inconvenient—that vampire habit of sleeping through the day."
"Speaking from experience, it's decidedly inconvenient."
"At least we never worried about getting enough sleep before," Joey yawned beside me. I draped an arm over his shoulders and hugged him. We'd slept badly since Kiarra left us behind.
"Tomorrow at this time, it'll be over," Lion said. "One way or another."
"That's what con
cerns me," I said.
* * *
"Child, I do not want news of your death," Wlodek said, his voice gruff.
"Father, I have no desire for that news to reach you," Merrill responded.
"Then make sure that you and Radomir return to me."
"Of course. Anything else?"
"I greatly desire Saxom's death. And Xavier's. For their betrayal and the assault on the Council."
"I will do my best to see that happens. Have you chosen new members for the Council, to replace Saxom and fill Maurizio's empty chair?"
"Ilaisaane and Nestor are being considered."
"Father, I dislike both choices."
"It cannot be helped; they have a majority of support from the others, and I cannot exert my influence in this matter."
"I understand. We will work around this somehow, should it come to pass."
"If it comes to pass. Be well, my son."
"And you, Father."
* * *
"Adam, I'd like to speak with you."
Griffin found me on the top level of the beach house, in a room the former owner had used as a study. It overlooked the gulf and offered a bit of quiet time so I could sort things through in my mind.
"About what?" I turned to watch as he walked into the room. He was tall—taller than I by a few inches, with brown hair and hazel eyes.
"About you—and your family. And why you're vampire," he added.
"I'm vampire because I was attacked by six thugs on a street in London. I'm vampire because they robbed me and left me for dead. Xavier found and turned me before I died."
"So you've been told."
"Yes. Many times. Xavier always thinks I should be a more grateful child."
"You owe him nothing." Griffin said those words with a hiss, accompanied by a swift and violent sweep of his hand.
"What are you saying?" I gave him my full attention, then.
"Do you recall the stories of your uncle? The one who reportedly died at sea?"
"Yes. I never knew him—I was a baby when he disappeared. My father often spoke of his brother Gerald, but I only saw photographs of him. Why do you ask?" This seemed an odd conversation to have on the day my life might end, but I was intrigued, nonetheless.
"He wasn't lost at sea," Griffin said.
"The official reports say otherwise."
"Because the writers of the official reports were instructed to say otherwise. Your uncle was in port during that time. He was turned, Adam. Gerald Chessman was a vampire. He was killed shortly before your turning."
"What?" If Griffin's goal was to shock and infuriate me, then he'd accomplished both those things.
"Just as your great-great-great uncle was turned. That uncle—Maxwell—was a vampire, killed shortly before Gerald's turning. Gerald was chosen because your father was married and he wasn't. Gerald—and you—were targeted deliberately, because Maxwell was a mister. That talent runs in families, as you know. The Council considered whether to take you or your brother, Justin. When Justin's engagement was announced, that decision became easier for them to make. Xavier was instructed to take you. He hired those thugs, then watched and waited for the appropriate moment. All of it planned, to enrich the vampire race."
"That's why he was overjoyed when I became mist for the first time," I snarled. At that moment, I wanted to break things. More than anything, however, I wanted to kill Xavier. I'd always felt guilty—felt I owed him for saving me.
He'd killed me, instead. Yes, Griffin likely knew that I had thoughts of allowing Xavier to kill me after I attacked him and Saxom.
No longer. I wanted to kill both of them. Intended to kill both of them. Anger rose, bitter as the bile in my throat, against the Council as well. They'd toyed with my life. Arbitrarily chose me to make their lives easier. A mister, at the Council's beck and call. It made me wonder what Gerald and Maxwell had done for them—and in what capacity.
I'd never been given full access to Council records. Perhaps this was the reason—that I'd see my uncles' information and complete the puzzle of my life. I didn't know whether I should thank Griffin for this information or curse him.
"I'll settle for neither," he said softly and left the room. I sagged onto a chair and dropped my head into my hands. Had I ever expected such a dramatic turn in my life? No. I was determined, however, whereas before, I hadn't been. If I fell, I would fall fighting against what had taken me. Had used me. Expected me to be grateful for it. I dropped my hands and stared out the window as lashing winds and rain hit the window. My laugh, when it came, was harsh and filled with bitterness.
* * *
"It will be raining hard, Son. Dress accordingly." I tousled Joey's hair. Kiarra wasn't coming back. At least for this fight, if at all. Winds in excess of one hundred miles per hour screamed about the house and waves were lapping against tall dunes in front of it. I had no clue how high the storm surge might be, and the ship channel on the opposite side of the island was a poor place to make a final stand.
"This is grim," Joey mumbled. He and I—both afraid to feel. Both of us beyond numb. We had a job to do and we would do it, but we felt as if our hearts had been cut from our chests. The beating there? Merely reflex.
"Sunset," Merrill announced as he joined us. "Child are you prepared?" he placed a hand on Joey's shoulder.
"I guess. I wish we knew more about Kiarra," he said.
"As do I."
"We'll know eventually," I offered. "Joey, are you sure you won't be cold?" He wore a thin T-shirt with a rock band logo on the front over jeans and leather trainers.
"I'll be okay," he shrugged, stuffing hands in front jeans pockets.
"Get us through this, young Joey, and I'll allow you to buy khaki pants and trainers for me."
"Add a few polo shirts and it's a deal," he nodded.
"I'll accept that," I agreed.
"Vampires are awake, get ready to go," Dragon announced behind us.
Chapter 16
"We'll drive as far as we can, then go in on foot, or in Adam's case, as mist," Dragon instructed. All of us, including Kyle and two werewolf drivers, had gathered in the foyer, preparing to leave. "We have four hours, before a category five hurricane hits the coast. This needs to be over by then."
"That's for damn sure," Lion agreed. "We'll have to employ power to get all of you out of here, and if we don't find the main enemy by that time, all hell will break loose."
"Let's go, the clock is ticking," Dragon said. He wore his blades strapped to his back over a sleeveless, laced-up black leather vest. The tattoos of red dragons rippled down his arms as he opened the door.
The werewolves had provided us with the best vehicles they could—armored Humvees with tall tires to drive through high water, if necessary.
It was necessary.
Highway 361 was covered by water. Joey's face and knuckles were white as he sat beside me, and I worried that the winds would sweep us off the highway before we reached the narrow road leading to the ship channel.
The road was little more than a path, actually, through a field that the fishermen used to get to prime fishing areas on the channel. The ground was soaked and flooded in places, rendering the road practically impassable. Tall grasses on either side had been beaten down by the rain and winds, and it was difficult to see past a rain curtain of grayness surrounding the vehicle.
We were forced to stop long before I was ready.
"When I drop you out of my mist," I said before we left the truck behind, "Wait for a minute or two and then walk in."
"Adam, what are you doing?" Joey asked.
"Planning a surprise," I growled. Before he could argue, I turned to mist and gathered my small army with me.
* * *
"This is impossible. We'll have to hop to a location near the refinery." Lion studied the low bridge leading into Corpus Christi. Covered in three feet of water, it was impassable.
"Do you want to come with us, or turn around and take your chances on the island?" Drag
on asked the werewolf driver.
"I'll come. It's suicide to stay on the island," the werewolf shook his head.
"Sam, if you don't want to fight, we can leave you in a sturdy building," Daniel offered.
"I'll fight. Might take my mind off this storm," Sam Sheridan replied.
"Your dad," Daniel began.
"My dad isn't here. I am. I volunteered to drive, and I drove as far as I could. Now it's time to see if I'm a werewolf or not."
Dragon blinked at the twenty-year-old werewolf before nodding in approval. "Then come with us. Do what you can. I don't suppose I have to warn you not to do anything foolish."
"I'll do my best, Mister Dragon."
"Lion, do you want to get us there?" Dragon asked, turning dark, unrevealing eyes toward his fellow Saa Thalarr.
"Oh, yeah. I know just the place," Lion purred.
* * *
I should have suspected something when I saw Saxom and Xavier waiting for me, an apparent bubble of calm about them. If I'd been thinking rationally, I might have noticed that their clothing was dry. Rain lashed and pounded everything else, but they were untouched by it.
I didn't notice. At least not then. My anger erupted and I saw both through red eyes as I stalked toward them, the rain and wind pushing me in their direction.
Only seconds behind were Joey, Russell, Will, Kyle and Bearcat. I wanted this finished before they arrived.
How foolish I was.
* * *
Half the building is already gone, Lion sent. He and the others walked through the abandoned administration building. The blank spot is persisting, even in such close proximity.
Understood, and this place wasn't built to take this kind of punishment, Dragon agreed. They may have taken the children away already. You know this is likely a trap. With one end of the building flattened by the storm, the rest of it looked to follow swiftly.
The offices are still intact, Merrill observed.
Let's go, then, Lion responded.
Wait, what's that sound? Karzac placed a hand on Dragon's arm.
"It's a child crying," Daniel snapped. "They're here. Let's go."
They ran down a hall toward Roy Cheek's office, when walls blew apart and disintegrated about them. A nine-foot kapirus would have been bad enough alone in such a storm—it unfolded from a crouch and roared into the wind and rain.
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