Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(53)
"I'd like to speak with him," Norian began.
"He's mute and only communicates through mindspeech," I said. "Cori and Val talk to him all the time, and he's become friends with Bekzi," I stated.
"Bekzi?" Norian's interest was piqued.
"Cori says he's a reptanoid."
"What's that?"
"Ask Cori—or Bekzi. He's heard of you before," I said. "He wasn't complimentary." Lendill turned away to hide a smile.
"Where is he now?"
"In Canada, helping to keep things on an even keel," I said.
"What does a boat hull have to do with," Norian began. "Never mind. I'll save that discussion for later."
*
Corinne
"We have to make plans to attend Amelia's funeral," President Granville stated as two other staffers and I stood before his desk. The Chief of Staff sat in a chair beside me, nodding at the President's words.
Things had happened so quickly after her death that I hadn't had time to mourn for her or consider the inevitable—the elaborate service expected for a President of the United States.
I'm sure that the real Phillips and the real Askins would have been doing a jig about her demise, but I took satisfaction in the fact that they'd died before she did. I was now worried about their clones, wherever and however many of those there were.
I'd like to see her body first, before it's placed on display in the capitol rotunda, I sent to the President.
A slight shake of his head negated my request.
All of us were invited to sit while the plans for a state funeral were made.
*
Personal Record
Lendill Schaff
"Why do they call this the ugly building in Arlington?" Norian asked after our introduction to Justin Griffin. He was tall—taller than Norian, with dusty-blond hair, blue eyes and a ready smile.
"I didn't name it," Justin flashed a grin. "Want coffee?"
Mack, the werewolf who'd transported us to and from the facility in Nevada, snickered as he helped himself to a cup of the dark brew.
"Do you have tea?" I asked.
"We do." Justin turned to retrieve a cup from the cabinet behind him. In seconds, a cup of fragrant tea was brewing in front of me while Norian accepted a cup of coffee.
"We've been reassigned as your transportation crew," Justin said. "Gavin thinks the enemy may be planning an attack from multiple fronts."
"Gavin?"
"You haven't met him," Mack said, his dark eyes glinting with humor. "Old. Vampire. Grumpy. Need I say more?"
"No, thank you," I pulled the small tea bag from my cup and sipped. "Good," I nodded. I only knew about vampires because my father had taught me about them. Werewolves, too. I felt comfortable with the young werewolf who stood nearby. A vampire could be another story.
"My dad's a vampire," Justin grinned, causing me to choke on my tea.
Rather than ask how it was possible for a creature that was sterile by nature to have fathered anyone, I apologized for coughing and went back to my tea.
"Did the vampire happen to say where these multiple fronts could originate?" Norian tasted the coffee and stopped for a moment to determine whether he liked it or not. "This is good," he acknowledged.
"I put cream and sugar in it," Justin said. "It's how I started drinking it years ago. Now I just avoid wasting time and take it black."
"Gavin doesn't know exactly where the attacks will originate, he just expects them to come from multiple directions," Mack shrugged. "It's what he would do, if he were in charge. Divide the enemy—that's what he said."
"The first attack could be the weakest," Justin nodded as he lifted his coffee cup. "It will draw our attention while they plan to hit us harder elsewhere, in more strategic and vulnerable spots."
"What does a vampire know about strategy?" Norian played the skeptic.
"Well, he was in the Roman army back in the day, if you're familiar with this planet's history. Then, he was the Vampire Council's elite assassin for a long time before he became what he is now."
"An assassin?" I lifted an eyebrow at Justin's remark.
"The best they had," Justin grinned again.
"Perhaps he will consider working for the ASD after this," Norian suggested.
Mack and Justin burst out laughing. While I failed to understand exactly what they found so humorous, I couldn't help but smile.
*
Captain Brett Walker
Jen and I had gone out with Captain Finch the day before. We examined the Snow Cat used to launch the missiles responsible for the blast site in Quebec.
The vehicle was a burned ruin, now.
The identification numbers had been destroyed before the vehicle was used for its final purpose, although we did find wires and a metal box, which didn't belong. "That remote controlled," Bekzi nodded toward the remains of the box I'd set on the kitchen island. My job was to look through it for any type of identifying markers, which could lead us to its maker or seller.
"Yeah," I shook my head. "I'm looking for something that could tell us where it originated."
"Look for reason these so intent to catch Sergei. Katya. Friends of Sergei and Katya," he responded.