Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(38)

I'd never wanted to give someone a lecture so badly in my life as I contemplated the aging werewolf. Gray was showing at his temples and there were lines in his face that wouldn't be seen in the future.

Winkler was tired. Tired of the everyday problems that demanded his attention. Tired of seeing his contemporaries fall. Tired of living without the woman he loved. Tired of waiting for another wolf to challenge him for the Dallas Pack.

Therefore, he intended to do what his father had done before him—demand that his son take his place in the tradition of any Pack—by killing the Packmaster in a challenge.

Come the full moon in two months, Winkler intended to die.

"Does your nose still work?" I asked, ignoring the vision of a large wolf with his throat ripped apart.

"It works fine. If Lissa were here, she'd be better, but she's not here." He tossed out a hand.

Lissa. Queen Lissa—of Le-Ath Veronis. He had no idea. I was still working on the conundrum of who'd been there to bring Winkler back, leave a doppelg?nger in his place and haul him into the future before handing him over to the Saa Thalarr.

Damn.

"Well, I'll buy the chicken-fried steak if you'll do some tracking for us," I said.

"At Don's Restaurant in Del City?"

"If that's what you want."

"I'm ready," he said, shoving his chair back and standing. Dressed in black jeans, boots and a polo, he was still handsome enough for the cover of a men's magazine. I didn't tell him that. Instead, I transported him to Cordell, where the others waited.

*

"Here's where the trail ends," Winkler sighed as we stood outside a local restaurant, which was now closed for the evening. Even the sign that spelled out Betsy's in green neon was dark in the window.

"You think they relocated from inside?" Matt asked.

"I can get us inside to check," I offered.

"Do it," Matt jerked his head toward the door.

It was—and wasn't—a mistake.

*

Captain Brett Walker

I'd learned plenty about scents in my brief association with the Dallas Packmaster. He'd told me to follow my gut, which in wolf terms meant instinct. Something about Dr. Farrell smelled off to me. I realized it when he took a barstool two down from mine—and next to Jen's.

What I didn't know how to do was confront him about it—or whether that was even wise. After all, how do you tell the man who saved your life that something doesn't feel right with him?

No, it wasn't a physical illness—as far as I could tell, he was in good health. Something whispered that it was mental or emotional, but I couldn't fathom the truth or the reason behind that notion.

Whatever it was, it made my gut churn. I didn't like it.

My wolf liked it even less. I realized I was growling softly when Dr. Farrell patted Jen's shoulder. They were human and didn't hear. For that, I was glad. I was determined to watch closely, however.

From now on.

*

Corinne

Dead customers were piled in a corner, with the wait staff and cooks piled atop them. If Val hadn't shielded us, we'd have been hit by the first blast leveled by one of the Dark Elemaiya.

Winkler was already wolf by the time the second blast came, which knocked out the window behind us and rattled chunks of tempered glass onto the sidewalk outside.

I cannot get a location on them—there must be a Sirenali here, Val informed me.

Matt was realizing the same thing—somewhere, at the back of this small restaurant, four Elemaiya and at least one Sirenali hid themselves from us while one leveled power blasts in our direction.

I'm getting behind them, I told Val, then folded space before he could protest. I found them in the kitchen, all facing the front where the others were—except one.

The Sirenali.

Before any of them realized I was there, I extended power and Pulled the Sirenali away, then folded space to the beach house in Port Aransas.

It was then, after I put my hands on him, that I realized the damage that had been done to him at a very young age.

*

Matt Michaels, Director

Joint NSA-Homeland Security Department

Something changed. Valegar and I knew it the moment it happened. Suddenly, all four Elemaiya were visible to our power searches.

Did Corinne destroy the Sirenali? I asked Val mentally as I leveled a blast of my own toward the kitchen area where the four were hiding.

Winkler, in wolf form and released from Val's shield, leapt toward the kitchen. I barely had time to throw a shield around him before he had one Elemaiya by the throat, neatly biting his head off with one vicious jerk.

Val took a more direct approach, by eliminating the wall between the kitchen and dining area, revealing the other three to us. Winkler savaged a second one while Val separated the particles of the other two.

"Where's Corinne and the Sirenali?" I asked as Winkler regained his human form. He was naked and bloody, didn't give a damn that he was and spit on the bodies of the two he'd killed.

"She's at the beach house," Val turned bright blue eyes on me. "With the Sirenali. She says if we want to kill him, we have to, in her words, go through her, first."

"Damn," I grumbled before turning to the pile of bodies in a front corner of the restaurant. There had to be at least fifteen people in that pile.