* * *
"She won't know, I promise." Rabis led a small group of Bright Elemaiya to a copse of trees. Two had come originally, worried that they and their children would become fodder for the Queen's army. She'd turned to conscripting artisans and weavers. "Jump from here," Rabis pointed to the ground, "to this spot and then to the gate." He tapped a dot on a human map. "Take this map with you. You should still have enough strength to get through the gate and to the place I described to you. Go there. The old Queen is waiting." He handed the paper map to his companions.
"Your daughter, if I remember correctly," the weaver said softly.
"Do not say that where anyone can hear. Friesianna thinks her dead. Go now or you will be taken on the morrow to serve in the army."
"We leave you with our thanks." The man bowed low to Rabis and he and his party disappeared.
Rabis sighed helplessly. "Only six that see sense," he muttered. "Friesianna will kill us all."
* * *
"This is one of three safe rooms," Winkler tapped the wall with a finger.
"How do you get in?" Ashe asked. He could see no evidence of a door, even a hidden one.
"I don't. You do. Go through the wall, Ashe. There's a room inside, with everything you might need. I count on you taking the rest of us with you if you go—and getting us out again when it's safe. But just in case, there's emergency equipment inside that’ll cut through the walls." Winkler's grin belied the seriousness of his voice. Ashe, Winkler and Trace were in the basement of the new beach house. Buck had studied the situation seriously, drawing up plans to keep the Dallas Packmaster safe from just about anything.
"Have you seen inside it?" Ashe asked.
"Not yet—I only have Buck's word that he furnished it comfortably and that it had a working bathroom and shower inside before he sealed it off. There are small air vents, but those are the only openings."
"Want to check on that?" Ashe asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Thought you'd never ask," Winkler laughed. Ashe gathered Winkler and Trace into his mist and went right through the wall.
"This is better than I thought," Trace sat down at the small table inside. The room was long and narrow, running the length of the beach house, with a full bath on one end, a small kitchen on the other. In between was a sitting area with a flat screen on the wall, a computer on a desk nearby, a telephone, printer and any other electronic gadget one might need to conduct business. The space was already carpeted, painted and had a hidden closet and laundry area behind the sofa in the center of the room.
"Buck did a great job," Winkler agreed, examining the walls, cabinets and office space. Ashe settled on the sofa and used the remote to turn on the television.
"I think I could live here," Ashe said, flipping through cable channels.
"You have a bedroom upstairs. It's a suite, actually. Trajan and Trace have one on either side—those take up the southern half of the second story. Mine takes up the northern half," Winkler said.
"Cause he's the boss," Trace agreed good-naturedly.
"Take us upstairs, Ashe, and you’ll see what you're getting." Ashe turned off the television, tossed the remote on the sofa and turned to mist a second time.
"Wow." Ashe looked around at the suite Winkler was building for him. Carpet had just been laid and the walls were ready to be painted, but windows were bare of blinds or curtains and light fixtures were missing. Nevertheless, the suite was large. The bedroom was separated from an adjoining media room, and a small study lined with bookshelves was just off the bedroom. A sink and space for a small refrigerator was located at the back of the media room, as were a few shelves and cabinets. "You can live here," Winkler pointed out. "The basement is for emergencies only."
"Keep it to yourself, but we may be able to move in next week," Trace whispered. "We don't want our enemies learning our movements ahead of time." Trace's words were humorous, but Ashe recognized the gravity underneath.
"We will," Winkler acknowledged. "And we’ll do it right after sunrise. Those vamps won't see a thing." Winkler found that more humorous than anything.
"Have you met them?" Ashe queried.
"Last night. Seem all right on the surface." Winkler turned away. He didn't tell Ashe what else he was planning. Not then, anyway. He had some calls to make and explanations to give beforehand. "Now, let's go pull Trajan away from our construction supervisor." Winkler jerked his head toward the door.
* * *
"Where are we going?" Ashe asked as Trace drove toward Corpus Christi.
"Men's clothing," Trajan heaved a patient sigh. Winkler, sitting in the passenger seat, grinned at Trajan over the back of his seat.
"I’m not getting more monkey clothes," Ashe insisted.
"You're not, Trajan is," Winkler was still grinning at Trajan.
"But you had a nice suit on the other day," Ashe stated the obvious.
"I need a new one, apparently." Trajan sounded somewhat bewildered. "Boss, this can wait, you know."
"No, I want to do it now. Before school starts at the end of the month. We’ll get together the day we move into the new beach house. That's a good beginning, don't you think?"
"What? What's going on?" Ashe felt just as bewildered as Trajan.
"Trajan's getting engaged, that's what," Trace chortled.
"Bro, if I have to come up there," Trajan gripped the back of Trace's seat with a very large hand. Large enough to palm basketballs, Ashe noticed.
"You'd think they were six and eight, instead of fifty-six and fifty-eight," Winkler laughed.
"That's funny now. You have to tell my mother." Trajan poked a finger at Winkler.
"Yes, I suppose I do." Winkler was still grinning when he turned around in his seat.
"Dude, you're that old? I thought you were twenty-five or something," Ashe whispered to Trajan. Trajan and Trace burst out laughing.
* * *
"I like this one best," Trace looked his brother over with a critical eye. The suit—a dark-gray pinstripe, looked good on Trajan, although it needed alterations. The tall werewolf was broad across the shoulders, narrow at the waist and his legs—any basketball player would want those. Lean and powerful, Ashe thought as he watched Trajan turn this way and that for the store clerk to make small chalk markings on the coat and pants. Winkler was looking through expensive shirts and tossing several to Trace, who caught them expertly and placed them in a pile. Ties came next—Winkler pulled out six and handed those to Trace, who placed them in the growing pile. Shoes, socks and a few other items came after that.
"Your feet are almost too long for me to fit," the clerk grimaced, using a shoehorn to get dress shoes onto Trajan's feet. Ashe grinned helplessly—Trajan had mocked him when he'd tried on shoes only days ago. Now Ashe was getting payback.
"Dude, your pinkie toe is as big as someone else's foot," Ashe teased.
"Are you mocking me?" Trajan lifted an eyebrow at Ashe.
"Yep."
"Just checking," Trajan grunted as the second shoe went on.
"We’ll special order the next ones," Winkler promised as two pairs of shoes were boxed up and added to the waiting pile.
"When's the wedding?" Ashe asked.
"Not for another two years—it’ll be a long engagement," Trace murmured as he and Ashe watched Winkler pay nearly six thousand dollars for what they'd purchased. "This will give Trajan enough time to get to know his intended. And vice-versa."
"An arranged marriage."
"Yeah. Seconds are good marriage material. As are Packmasters, but most of those are married already. There are three hundred twelve Packs, so that means over three hundred Packmasters and more than three hundred Seconds. That's leaving room for the female Packmasters, who don't have any trouble finding a male. Females aren't common among the werewolves. Not anymore."
"What happened?" Ashe asked, his curiosity forcing the question.
"The race war," Trace said softly as he ushered Ashe through the door, following
Winkler and Trajan who were loaded down with bags and boxes. The suit would be ready in two days, or so the clerk promised. "The vamps targeted the weakest among us, and those were often the females. Fewer females mean fewer births. The vamps regulate how many of them get turned, so when the wolves took down a vamp, it decimated their numbers as well."
"Trace, decimate by definition means one in ten. I think those numbers would have to be elevated to account for actual losses," Ashe pointed out as he climbed inside the van.
"Okay, on both sides, the deaths accounted for around two-thirds of both races."
"Holy cow," Ashe hissed.
"That's the bigger picture," Winkler had listened to both sides of the conversation. "We don't know how many shifters died—the vamps, some of them anyway, didn't like them either."
"Have they stopped killing shifters?"
"That was the agreement when they married some of them to the vamps. Shifters aren't organized, but a few are powerful enough and have enough connections throughout the race that they can bargain at times with Wlodek. Wlodek wanted shifters to marry vamps and see if they could have kids, substituting DNA into the egg. In exchange for the vampires leaving shifters alone. You're a result of that, Ashe."
"But Mom and Dad met in a bar in London. That wasn't arranged."
"You don't know that, Ashe. What if somebody knew your mother was going to be where she was? And conveniently sent in a vampire?"
"Trace, I have a headache." Ashe didn't want to continue the discussion. Too many ugly possibilities crowded his brain.
"Trace, enough." Winkler nodded to Trace, who settled into the driver's seat and started the van. "Ashe, we only speculate. We don't know truth. It won't ever change who your parents are. Remember that. And if things were normal, you wouldn't be having this conversation or worrying about it. Trace, drive." Trace put the van in gear and drove.
Chapter 13
"You're kidding?" Dawn sat at Denise's table on the deck, while she and Randy sipped iced tea in the Texas summer heat. "He just up and left her behind?" Denise had explained Aedan's recall by the Council.
"Unfortunately, yes. Now we have three new vampires guarding at night. Marcus met them, I haven't."
"How dangerous do you think they are? Will they come after wolves again?"
"The Council sent them, so I assume they're safe enough."
"How did Adele and Ashe react to the whole thing?"
"Adele barely remembers she had a vampire husband, or a child with him. Compulsion, more than likely. I thought he loved her more than anything, so this has me completely confused." Denise poured more iced tea and pushed a plate of finger sandwiches toward Randy, who was eating and content to listen. He wasn't about to tell anyone that Ashe appeared and disappeared from his tiny Chicago apartment not long ago. Randy had made the move, too, and gone out on a date with veterinarian Sara Dillon shortly before his move to Texas. Sara knew about the move and promised to keep in touch. He hadn't told his mother yet, but Sara and he—well, Randy wanted to marry Sara, after only one date.
* * *
"My King, my spies report that our encampment may be attacked soon." Beldris informed his brother. He'd made the trek from Canada to speak with Baltis regarding the impending attack.
"Friesianna thinks to do this when I am not present to help protect our own," Baltis paced restlessly. The painting that hung on his brick wall was getting old. Perhaps he would ask his guards to change it.
"I believe that as well," Beldris agreed.
"Then we will exchange places. You know of the plan for London. Execute that for me, brother, and we will give the Bright Queen a surprise she will not soon forget."
"That is the brother I admire," Beldris smiled.
* * *
"Gather as many as we can send, and station them here," Friesianna tapped appropriate locations on a map laid out atop a makeshift table.
"My Queen, I counsel against this," Rabis said softly as Friesianna spoke with Parlethis, who was now captain of her guards.
"You will not interfere with this. We have not had such an opportunity in many years. This is our chance to take our Dark cousins by surprise and eliminate many of them, including the Prince. We will cripple them in one blow and they will be forced to admit defeat. Perhaps I will allow Baltis to live, after he offers his crown to me."
"My Queen, you may not wield the Dark Crown," Rabis interjected. "It is forbidden."
"You think that Baltis will hesitate to take mine and use it?" Friesianna snapped. "Go. I do not have any questions for you concerning this."
"As you will it, my Queen."
"Yes, I will it. Take yourself from my sight." Rabis was more than happy to do as the Queen dictated.
* * *
"Ashe, we're going to a movie." Ashe looked up from his study guide to find Cori and Marco standing before him. It was Sunday afternoon and he'd taken (and passed) three sample tests since breakfast.
"So the reconciliation is complete and you want my blessing?" Ashe asked, setting his book aside. Cori's hand was firmly held in Marco's. Her expression was hopeful as she smiled at Ashe.
"No, we're asking you to come with us."
"Dude, that's just—I'd be an extra," Ashe admitted lamely.
"Sali and Dori are coming," Cori said, trying to coax Ashe.
"Cori, that's not—it doesn't feel cool," Ashe said. "You're dating. I’m not." And thanks for making it so obvious, he added silently. He wanted to sit in a dark theater with his arm around a girl. Perhaps steal a kiss now and then. Ashe had no girl, hence none of the other things as well.
"Wynn's coming," Cori said brightly.
"But does Wynn want to come with me?" That was the trouble. Ashe had seen the way Wynn looked at Ace. The way she'd gone out of her way to touch Ace. Somehow, he knew it was right, though Ace was likely much older than Wynn. He wondered if the werewolf had enough courage to approach the O’Neills with his request to date their daughter. Ashe might have leaped at the chance not long ago, but he had other things on his mind. Chasing after Wynn when she was destined to belong to another, well, that was an exercise in futility.
"Ask Ace if he wants to go," Ashe suggested. "I have studying to do." He deliberately raised the study guide and pretended to read.
"Ace is outside," Marco said, steering Cori out of Ashe's room. Ashe went to mist and followed behind them. "Ace, want to go to the movies with us? Wynn's going," Cori said. The werewolf was kneeling beside Winkler's van, checking tire pressure on a rear wheel. Lifting his head and grinning, Ace nodded. Ashe misted to his room again, sighing once he came back to himself. No doubt about it, Ace was smitten with Wynn syndrome. Ashe was surprised three hours later to get a call from Marco, saying they'd gone to a pizza restaurant in Port Aransas after the movie. Ashe was invited to come eat with the others.
"All right, I’ll come," Ashe dumped the study guide on his cot and stood to stretch. Pizza Neetsa was in a dome-shaped building on the outskirts of town, about three miles from Winkler's beach house. Ashe knew where it was—he'd seen it every time he'd passed through Port A. He hopped to a spot right over the building, turning to mist before he became visible. Dropping through the roof, he landed in an empty stall inside the restroom and walked out to find the others sitting at a long table. Sure enough, Wynn was leaning against Ace, who wore a bemused look on his face, as if someone had given him a winning lottery ticket. For a lot. Ashe scooted into the chair next to Cori, who didn't mind leaning into Marco to give Ashe room. Marco put his arm around Cori possessively.
"He’ll want sausage and mushroom," Sali said when Ashe was about to place his order. Dori slapped Sali's hand for being rude.
"It is what I want," Ashe handed his menu to the waitress. "With extra of both." He hadn't had lunch and it was nearly time for dinner. Winkler, Trajan and Ace had been absent most of the day, on business, Winkler said before they'd taken off in one of the two vans Winkler kept in Star Cove, leaving Ace and Andy there to stand guard.
"I never said you weren't," Ashe pointed out. "I just said I didn't trust you. That's all." Ashe wished he could take the words back as quickly as he'd said them. "Dude, I didn't mean it quite like it sounded," Ashe apologized as best he could.
"Let's leave that for now. We’ll agree to disagree," Ace said. "Salidar, sit up straight. You're mortifying your date." Dori was certainly staring at Sali.
Dude, I’m sorry. I think Dori wants you to put an arm around her or something. Ashe's silent sending had Sali straightening up and slipping an arm around Dori. He went one better and kissed Dori's temple. Dori leaned against Sali with a sigh of contentment. Sali gave a brief nod to Ashe and things were better after that.
"I can get myself home," Ashe said when they went to load into the van later.
"No, ride home with us," Cori held out a hand. Ashe squeezed in beside Cori, and that's how he ended up hopping Cori and Marco to London when he knew his father was in trouble.
* * *
"Winkler, I don't know what happened—Ashe yelled 'Dad' and he, Marco and Cori disappeared from the van. We're on the side of the road—I pulled over as soon as they were gone." Ace phoned Winkler after stopping the van.
"He's in London," Winkler's voice held little doubt. "I’ll get the Head of the Council on the phone right away." Winkler hung up, leaving a frustrated Ace kicking a tire he'd aired up earlier.
* * *
Marco and Cori had turned. Cori's panther yowled at the six Elemaiya who were threatening her and Marco, her tail flipping angrily at them. Ashe, as invisible mist, hovered over Marco and Cori's heads, sending mindspeech. Don't let them attack you—just look menacing, Ashe instructed.
His father's body was nearby—the Elemaiya had managed to drag it out of a nearby house, securely wrapped in a black cloth. Ashe figured they wanted to question Aedan as soon as he woke; that meant they were looking for him and they hadn't found him near his father. Sunset was close, too, and Ashe knew his father would wake fighting—Aedan always drew in a heavy breath when he woke. That would tell him he was outside and not inside—a vampire's nose was as sensitive as any wolf's.
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