Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(37)

*

"Those ass-wipes have struck again," Auggie huffed into his cell.

"Where this time?" I asked.

"Cordell, Oklahoma," he said. "Walked into a shop and ended up burning it to the ground. Three dead, this time—the owner and two customers."

"Dearest, they are hitting places where Ashe employed power," Val said softly beside me. We were lying together in bed after a long and exhausting day. Auggie's call interrupted our rest.

"How are they reading that?" I asked, turning to Val.

Auggie, who hadn't heard Val's comment, demanded to know what I meant.

"Auggie, hold on," I said. "I have to ask Val something."

"They may have a spelled artifact of some sort," Val said. "One that perceives spent power and works in a way similar to that of a radiation detection device. When Ashe was young, he hadn't learned to deactivate a site or shield its detection after employing his power."

"What about us?" I was worried immediately.

"Larentii power is natural and cannot be detected by any spell or artifact," he replied. "The gods and other powerful beings must shield or disguise their signature. Most already know this. The Mighty Hand was forced into his power much too soon, before he gained adulthood. Pockets of power residue are only to be expected. It should not matter, as the gates the Elemaiya use on Earth have been closed against them. These four, as you know, used conventional means to facilitate their arrival."

I blinked at Val for several seconds, wondering how to explain all that to Colonel August Hunter. "Auggie, we have problems," I said.

*

West Wing—Residence

He studied her. In all their time together, she'd never suspected a thing. He missed Hal's advice, but then that hadn't been Hal. He'd only known him as Hal.

"Dear, does this dress look appropriate for the OPEC meeting?" she asked.

Yes, he was Graye Sanders, the President's husband and First Gentleman—to everyone else. He knew the truth. She certainly didn't. It had taken careful maneuvering on his part, and on Hal's part while he still lived, to keep him away from that stupid bitch Corinne.

He'd shied away from the camera from the beginning, even telling journalists that he didn't want to distract anyone's attention away from his wife and her position at the White House. That had inadvertently been the best decision he and Hal had made.

It meant he was still operating in the shadows—there were goals to accomplish, after all. Now that Corinne was dead or at least gone—his wife hadn't indicated otherwise for more than a year—he felt it safe to come out of the shadows and implement the Backup Plan.

*

Corinne

I wished for Rafe while Val, Leo and I studied the burned ruin of a small business in Cordell, Oklahoma.

Sunset had come and gone, so emergency lights were employed as local authorities and the OSBI rummaged through the wreckage for clues. Val held a shield about us, preventing our detection while we watched.

"I'll get Auggie," I said. "He should see this."

"Shield yourself," Val instructed.

"On it, honey," I said and folded space.

Auggie didn't seem surprised to see me. Matt sat in his office, as if he were waiting for me, too. I gave him half a frown before transporting both to Cordell.

Auggie cursed when he saw the rubble. Matt's brows knitted together but he didn't say anything. "Where's Opal?" I asked.

"I sent her back to Dublin," Matt said, refusing to take his eyes off the scene. "She's attempting to track the Zoran clone, but isn't having much luck. Bekzi is guarding those left at the beach house. How's the weather in your part of Canada?"

"Not so hot," I replied.

"Hmmph." Matt refused to laugh.

"You know, maybe Brett or Mr. Winkler could help us out, here," I said. "What we need is someone who can scent where those f*ckers went, unless they skipped or relocated or whatever the hell they do. I understand doing it more than once or twice a day may be too much for some of them."

"Good point," Val turned in my direction. "If they relocated here, they may be saving energy before relocating to their next target."

"I'll call Winkler," Matt pulled out his cell phone. "Want to pick him up?" he turned to me and asked.

"I'll pick him up," I agreed. After all, a Sirenali couldn't hide mundane scents. They could only conceal themselves and those about them from detection by the powerful. Unless the Elemaiya thought to shield the ground they walked on, and it was my guess they didn't have the talent, then a good tracker could follow their trail.

"I'll be back," I said and disappeared.

*

I almost gasped when I saw Winkler. No, he looked exactly as he had when I'd seen him before. This time, what I read in his face wasn't pretty.

Yes, I researched his background when I read the history of Le-Ath Veronis. There was a gaping hole in that history, however, according to the Larentii account of things.

Somehow, Winkler had been saved from his own suicidal plan of handing his son the Dallas Pack by forcing him to make a challenge against his own father. Sadly, there was no record of who'd actually done the saving.

It had to be someone powerful enough to pull him back from the point of death, because his son had obeyed Winkler's wishes and torn out his throat.