Blood Destiny: Blood Passage Part 17

"Yeah. Forget about that, Tony. My fiance doesn't take kindly to advances by others."

"How did you get engaged to him in the first place? I get the idea that this isn't a love match."

"Tony, stop digging. We get along okay. Forget it, all right?"

"Lissa, I had more fun with you on three dates than I've ever had with anyone before and we didn't even sleep together."

"And that's for the best, I a.s.sure you," I said. "There can't ever be a you and me, Tony. Not ever."

"Lissa, I'm not going to trace your phones. Not officially. But that doesn't mean I might not call you now and then."

"Then try not to call when my fiance is around. That could get me pounded."

"Now I'm worried about you."

"Don't be. I'm a lot tougher than I look. And tell those schmucks who were with you tonight to stop wearing sungla.s.ses inside a bookstore, for cripe's sake. That's not a giveaway or anything."

"More than likely they were blinded by the printed word. I don't think they read at all."

"Go out and hire somebody who reads, then. Are you the boss or not?"

"Lissa, you should know those aren't the questions we ask in interviews."

"Yeah? I can hear it now. When's the last time you maimed somebody? Yesterday? Good. How about breaking bones? What's the best way to crack a skull or bust a kneecap? The one who revealed his shoulder holster tonight? That was just showing off."

Tony laughed. "I haven't asked those questions yet but I'll consider it next time."

"See that you do. Otherwise you may get an inferior knee-cap buster."

"You still like me, admit it," Tony teased.

"Tony, part of me will always like you. I'll always have fond memories of those three dates. You made me laugh when I desperately needed to laugh. That's why I sent Winkler to you in the first place. I thought you'd be the one to take his software and treat him fairly over it. I thought you were a good guy, Tony. Don't make me revise that opinion."

"Lissa, I will work hard to keep that good opinion you have of me. I won't have your phones traced for the department. But like I said, that won't prevent me from trying to call you from time to time. You could call me, too, baby. And not just when you need help."

"Tony, no offense, but I hope I don't need your help again. Ever."

"Now, is that any way to be?"

"You weren't the one who had the gun in your face when the police came to make arrests."

"Someday, you're going to have to tell me how you got out of that."

"Fat chance. Go to bed, Tony. If you're lucky, you might still get a couple hours sleep."

"What if I have cracker crumbs in my bed?"

"Then you deserve to wake up with salty crumbs stuck to your skin," I huffed. "Didn't anybody teach you not to do that?"

"No, I was raised by wolves," he said. That hit me like a slap in the face. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Why? Werewolves had human mates at times and they produced human children. That didn't keep those human children from knowing what their werewolf parent was.

"You could have saved me a lot of worry if you'd mentioned that early on," I muttered.

"See, Lissa, we're not so far-fetched," he said. "That's how I knew about all those things. That's how I convinced the FBI to create an entire department for those races. We need them, Lissa. They can do things the other guys can't."

"That still doesn't mean we could have anything close to a relations.h.i.+p. I wish I could explain all this to you, Tony, but I can't. Suffice it to say I have a fiance, and he's not going to let me go. That's that. Good night, Tony."

"Lissa, I really won't have your phone traced."

"I'll think about keeping it, then."

"Good," he sighed. "Should I say pleasant dreams?"

"You'd be wasting your breath," I said and hung up.

Chapter 11.

The note I left for Winkler said not to bother with a new phone. He got me one anyway. "How was the sojourn in the pokey?" I asked, ruffling his hair a little after I woke. I handed over the second key to the cooler of blood as I sipped my dinner. I was heading into the bathroom to clean up when Winkler answered.

"It smelled awful," he said. "Too bad Kelvin's dead; I'd kill him all over again." That was all the local news was talking about-how the police had a standoff with the shooter and killed him.

"Kevin. Kevin Miller," I stuck my head out the bathroom door to remind him. "And this isn't over yet, I don't think." I wanted to call Merrill-ask him who Saxom was and why his children were going to be a problem. Merrill was as unhappy with that information as I'd ever known him to be. "Did Weldon get a copy of the names that Tony got from the kid?"

"We got it but it's pretty much the same list that Davis and Glen put together." That statement had me marching right back out of the bathroom.

"William Wayne Winkler, do you mean to sit there and tell me you guys were already suspecting this idiot and you didn't think to mention it to me?" I was shaking my toothbrush at him.

"We didn't know what he was doing," Winkler tried to pull me into his arms. He was sitting on the end of his bed, a sad puppy look on his face. "We knew his credentials were bogus but we were waiting to see what the reason was. Besides, you knew he was collecting fingerprints and you didn't tell us."

"If you'd let me know to begin with I would have, rather than waiting to see what the f.u.c.k his problem was." I tossed a hand in the air and headed back toward the bathroom.

"Lissa, baby, don't be upset." Winkler was in the bathroom right behind me and he managed to get his arms around me and kiss me on the shoulder before I could get away.

"Winkler, go put two socks on that match," I pointed to his feet. The white tile in the bathroom floor played up the one navy blue sock and one black sock.

"Well, will you look at that," Winkler grinned at me.

"Out," I pointed toward the door. "I have to clean up." He went reluctantly.

The confirmation later was uneventful. Weldon interviewed most of the Wichita Pack and all of them expressed dissatisfaction with Bart Orford; he'd had a heavy hand and didn't like it if anyone expressed an opinion that disagreed with his. He'd killed two Seconds who challenged him because they didn't like his beliefs. The new Packmaster seemed competent and he was nice on top of that. He had a human wife who really was excited to meet me. "I just never met somebody like you before," she gushed. "Don't worry; I know how to keep a secret."

I desperately hoped she could keep a secret, but I didn't tell her that. We just talked about this or that. She was the one who let it slip that werewolves were possessive in bed. Like I wanted to hear that. "They just wrap you up and if you move, they nip a little," she giggled. As information goes, that was something I could have done without.

Then, to make my evening complete, Gavin called. Of course, he was furious.

"Gavin, honey, please speak English," I said after a while. The English that came out of his mouth was still punctuated with cursing-in Italian, I think.

"Lissa, I truly want to take you over my knee," he shouted. I'd gone back into the hallway so Winkler couldn't hear but he may have heard some of Gavin's rant anyway, it was so loud. "Merrill said he gave you the message that I wanted to hear from you and what do you do? Of course you do not call!" That was followed by another spate of Italian. No, I hadn't called him. I'd sent him email with my new phone number and told him a little of what happened. Of course, that wasn't enough. Merrill and Franklin had both gotten emails, as had Charles. They weren't complaining or cursing in foreign languages.

The diatribe went on for twenty minutes, at least. I wanted to hang up on him again but thought better of it. When he started cursing in French, I did the next best thing. "Of course, honey," I said when he took a breath. "You're right, sweetie-pants," I said the next time. "Absolutely, b.o.o.by-kins," I agreed during the following minuscule pause.

"Lissa, what the h.e.l.l are you saying?" That was after the b.o.o.by-kins remark.

"I'd like to ask you the same thing," I said. "Except that you'd probably answer me in yet another foreign language. Do you know Swahili? Maybe Setswana? That's the language they speak in Botswana. At least that's what I hear."

"Lissa, why are you so far away from me right now?"

"I don't know, honey. Am I far away from you?"

"Yes. I am prevented from telling you where, but I am."

"Then be careful, all right?"

"I am always that," he sighed.

Oregon was beautiful. I only wished I could see it in daylight. Yes, I see very well at night but the moon doesn't sparkle on the water like the sun does and the sky looks a deep blue instead of the sunny blue I remembered. And it was raining when we landed, the water running across the tarmac as we taxied to a stop. The little rack squeaked a bit as I collected postcards at a twenty-four hour pharmacy in Portland while Winkler bought shaving cream and shampoo. Weldon was foraging through the snack aisle and loading up a hand basket. I thought about calling Tony and asking him if he was still sleeping in cracker crumbs but thought better of it. He'd take it the wrong way and all I wanted was a non-judgmental friend with whom I could laugh.

Daryl, Weldon's son was handling some of what Weldon would normally deal with while in North Dakota-disputes over running grounds and the like. Some of the larger cities had more than one Pack, Weldon informed me, and if your Pack was over forty members it was harder to control. Weldon had been on the phone most of the night, helping his real Second with problems that had cropped up. I couldn't blame the Grand Master for having the munchies now; worry always did that to me when I'd been human.

The cas.h.i.+er didn't bat an eyelash when I handed over at least twenty postcards, all with scenes photographed in daylight. I couldn't take the photographs myself so this was the next best option. We were spending the night in Portland, but the Pack Weldon was scheduled to visit was just outside Tillamook. We'd be driving there the following day with me in my body bag, of course. They were planning to start the drive in the afternoon. Winkler figured I'd wake up somewhere along the way.

There was a guest laundry inside the hotel after our trip to the pharmacy, although it consisted of two coin washers and dryers. I gathered up all the laundry and headed down to the second floor of the hotel to put it in. The pharmacy carried laundry soap and dryer sheets, thank goodness.

The window inside the tiny laundry room allowed me to watch the rain pound the parking lot outside; Winkler's pilots had a little trouble landing the jet at the airport earlier because of the storm. The local news was all about the record snowstorm only two weeks before and now the rains that were currently hitting the Oregon coast. Several rivers were swollen and flood and landslide warnings had been issued. Of course, Tillamook was right in the middle of all that.

The laundry was all done and nicely folded, waiting to be packed into suitcases when Winkler got up and I slipped into his bed. Winkler appreciates clean clothes as well as anyone-he just doesn't like the process of getting them clean. He gave me a warm kiss when I crawled in bed to lie down, and he covered me up before I pa.s.sed out with the sun's rising.

"They're evacuating parts of the area because of the flooding," the desk clerk informed Winkler later as he checked out. Weldon was outside, watching the bellman load up the luggage into the rented SUV, including Lissa's bag. Weldon just shook his head as the man tossed her bag right in on top of the other luggage.

"We may have to change hotels when we get there," Winkler grumbled, folding up the printed receipt the desk clerk had given him. "There's a lot of flooding in the area."

"No surprise," Weldon nodded, climbing in on the pa.s.senger side. Winkler was driving the first leg. "Is the rain supposed to let up at all?" Weldon leaned over so he could look out his window at the heavy gray clouds overhead.

"Doesn't look like it; the weather service says it may clear in a day or two."

"The run is going to be a wet one, then."

"Yeah."

The full moon would occur their second night in Tillamook, the dinner the third night and the confirmation would be held the fourth night. There was also a wedding scheduled and they'd waited until the Grand Master could perform the werewolf portion; a local clergyman had already done the normal ceremony. Weldon hoped the weather would clear up for that at least.

"Hanc.o.c.k 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 f.u.c.k," I muttered. "We have to do something."

Weldon was nodding and taking his s.h.i.+rt 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. f.u.c.k. 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 c.r.a.p 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."