Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(27)

Dr. Farrell took a step toward Val, his face dark with anger. Val rose from his seat before becoming nearly nine feet tall and blue-skinned. Farrell stopped in his tracks. Not because he wanted to, but because Val used his power to prevent Farrell's approach. A long, blue finger snaked out and tapped Farrell lightly on the forehead. Farrell's body dropped gently to the floor as he lost consciousness.

"I'll call Winkler," Opal said and pulled out her cell phone.

*

Corinne

William Winkler, werewolf and Dallas Packmaster, arrived in an hour, accompanied by his son, Wayne. "If anybody except Opal had called, I'd be calling them delusional," Winkler said shortly after his arrival. "Now, what's this about a drug and replication?"

"Tied up with national security," Matt Michaels wandered in. I gave him a look—one that said he'd never fool me for a minute. He pointedly ignored my look and paid attention to Winkler instead.

"Want chicken and dumplings?" I went right over Matt's head and employed what would interest any werewolf—the promise of food.

"I smelled it the minute I got here," Wayne declared.

"Then come have some," I invited. "The others are already eating."

That's how Val and I came to know the Dallas Packmaster and his son, who acted as his Second. Richard Farrell, who was now awake again, functioned in a better, more civilized manner as he ate. I suppose he realized that nobody should ever pick a fight with a Larentii.

"Larentii," I pointed to Val and myself when Winkler asked.

"I've only had dealings with one Larentii before," Winkler said.

"Pheligar," Val said.

"How did you know?" Winkler's interest was piqued.

"He is my uncle, as well as the Liaison for the Saa Thalarr, who in turn had dealings with Lissa."

Honey, you're treading shaky ground, I warned.

"You know about Lissa." Winkler's words were flat, his depression immediate.

"We didn't intend to open old wounds," I apologized to Winkler.

"It's all right," he held up a hand. I knew he was lying; I just didn't want to make things worse for him. And it would be interfering to tell him that in the future, Lissa was just fine, thanks. The thing was, someone had already alluded to that fact; Winkler just didn't know what to make of it.

We all had many paths to walk before the future arrived. I wanted to sigh. I forced myself not to do so.

*

"Will I turn into something?" Jennifer now stood beside me as I stared out the plate-glass windows at the gulf, lit only by a waxing moon. Somewhere out there, Winkler and his son were attempting to teach Brett what it meant to be werewolf.

"No, hon," I draped an arm about her shoulders. "You weren't meant to turn. What you'll do eventually is tap into others' thoughts. You'll know who has murder on their minds, or sometimes, who's committed it, if they're thinking about it."

"That's frightening," she shivered.

"I know." I hugged her tighter. When Maye was turned, she'd been a volunteer, fully advised on the potential effects of the drug. Jennifer hadn't had a choice. I understood what that felt like, although I'd gotten the drug directly, instead of a survivor's blood after the fact.

Maye hadn't fought PTSD, either. Jen struggled with it, just as she struggled with emerging memories that weren't her own. I wasn't sure Richard would have a chance with her—she was beginning to realize how detrimental the drug actually was.

"Rinnelar," Rafe's voice interrupted my thoughts. Jen and I turned at the same time to see what he wanted.

"There's something on the news I think you should see," he said. Jen and I followed him toward the media room.

*

The devastation in Star Cove, Texas, not far from where we were, looked as if someone had set off a bomb, there.

"Twenty-eight years ago, Star Cove was destroyed. Since then it has been rebuilt, only to suffer nearly the same fate," the journalist declared. "While some homes still stand, most along the main canal have been obliterated. Authorities are attempting to search through debris for survivors and bodies, but in places, it is still too hot to make the attempt. A cause for this explosion and fire is still under investigation."

"Those f*cking Elemaiya," I snapped. "I knew they were trouble the minute I saw them."

*

"How did they get here?" Winkler was exhausted when dawn arrived; still, he wanted to hear about Star Cove. He'd built the small town initially, before its first destruction, then rebuilt it afterward and sold the property. "I thought Ashe got rid of the f*ckers."

"He did, and prevented them from gating in again," Val explained. He, Winkler and I were having a private meeting on the beach house's deck while the others stayed inside the house. As a precaution, Val placed a soundproof shield about us, so nobody else would hear our conversation.

"Then how?" Winkler buried his face in his hands.

"They arrived by more conventional means, courtesy of the ASD," I said. "That's Alliance Security Detail, in case you haven't heard of it before. They arrived by ship, then by anti-grav transport to the planet. They were sent to hunt the remnants of drug survivors, clones and any remaining drug. You see how quickly they became distracted."