Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(78)

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Larentii Archives

Private files of Nefrigar

Chief Archivist

"We knew this would happen," Kalenegar stood beside me as we gazed upon the construct Corinne had left in her place. The chip was even located properly in the wrist, just as Kalenegar had placed it.

"She will Change What Was as necessary, before returning to us," Kalenegar continued. "It will only require bringing Keef and Schaff back, and perhaps a few others," he shrugged.

"We have already decided that her other mate is irretrievable," Kalenegar added. "His death may be painful for her. If she is unable to bring it about, Matt Michaels is prepared to do this, after Ilya brings the deaths of a few others, you understand. When that occurs, then he will be hunted across the globe and Matt's agency will take credit for destroying the monster he has become."

"Do you think she knows that more deaths are coming at Ilya's hands? This could send her in a dangerous direction," I observed.

"It won't matter," Kalenegar gestured, dismissing the information. "She is Larentii. She will know when it is wrong to interfere."

I studied the Head of the Council for a moment before turning to my son. There was a hesitation in him as his eyes met mine. As if he considered speaking and then thought better of it.

As did I.

Corinne was the Vhanaraszh; her part no Larentii could predict. I refrained from pointing that out to Kalenegar. Things would go as they would, with no interference from me. I merely worried that my child—and his mate—could be harmed emotionally before this was over.

*

Captain Brett Walker

"I'm not the best cook," Colonel Hunter confessed. "I can do grilled cheese. Bacon and eggs. Nothing fancier than that, I'm afraid. Laci is an amazing cook, as is Corinne. Damn, I wish Cori were here."

I understood he didn't want her here to cook. He wanted her here because she spelled safety for both of us. After my brief stint in captivity, I'd never felt so unsettled and unsafe.

Control is something you never understand until you don't have it. That's when you realize that it was never really yours to begin with. It's an illusion, at the best of times. Colonel Hunter and I stood at the stove in the safe house's kitchen, studying the contraption in order to determine how to get it to work. At the moment, we didn't even have control over household appliances.

That's when the doorbell rang. We froze. I pulled the pistol I carried from my waistband and followed Colonel Hunter to the door. He peered through the peephole to see who it was.

"A kid selling cookies," he turned to me with a grin. I replaced the weapon in my back waistband while Hunter opened the door.

"Surprised?" The girl morphed into Rafe Black, whose grin was nasty as he fired three times at Colonel Hunter, the last shot hitting him in the forehead from close range. Rafe disappeared before I could fire my weapon.

*

Personal Diary—Laura Quimby

It was supposed to be an ordinary afternoon, which would be followed by an ordinary evening at the White House. President Granville was scheduled for meetings all afternoon, and I'd arranged his schedule to fit in a short break between his four and five o'clock.

Secret Service Agents began running into the Oval Office as the President sipped the soft drink I'd carried to him.

"Colonel Hunter is dead—shot by Rafe Black, sir," one of the agents reported. "We have to get you to the bunker. You're in danger."

I watched as the President stood—almost in slow motion. Two agents grabbed him and attempted to lead him toward the exit. The dark-haired man appeared with an assault rifle in his hands.

No matter how many times the agents surrounding the President fired at the intruder, their bullets bounced off some sort of invisible shield around him. One of those bullets ricocheted and hit me in the shoulder while I shouted into a phone that the Oval Office was under attack.

I barely remember falling afterward; I watched the President die as I bled onto the rug—the one that depicted the President's seal. My head lay on the eagle's breast, but it offered no protection or comfort.

The President fell beside me, his eyes already losing their light as I gazed into them.

*

Opal

By the eleven o'clock news, Rafe's photograph was splashed on every television screen across the globe. Images were shown from cameras placed in sensitive areas across the globe—including the U.S.

Colonel Hunter's safe house was equipped with a camera, and the footage showed a grinning Rafe pumping bullets into the Colonel before he disappeared from view.

Eyewitness accounts from the Oval Office said the same thing about President Granville's death—the assassin was identified as Rafe Black by a White House aide.

In all, Rafe had been directed to assassinate Granville, Hunter, the President of France, the Prime Minister of Great Britain and the leaders of sixteen other world countries, including Greece, Russia, Japan and Australia.

Matt, I sent. I think it's time you got the hell away. I figure I know what's coming next.

What about you? he returned.

I think Bree will want a first-hand account, I replied. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. Say hello to your mom for me, okay?

Will do. Call if you need me.

I will.

*

Corinne