Winkler muttered under his breath for a moment. "Ashe, I have it on pretty good authority that the half-children of the Elemaiya are immortal, just as the full bloods are. The quarter children aren't and that causes problems at times. I don't know why he chose to appear and tell you that, but it's true. If the Vampire Council says they can give you immortality by making you vampire, that won't be the whole truth. You already have that." Winkler sat in the same chair the other man had occupied.
"But who was he?" Ashe persisted.
"Ashe, how old did he look to you?" Winkler said.
"Maybe thirty. Might be a little younger. Why?"
"He's more than a hundred thousand years old," Winkler said. "And he can cause more trouble than you can possibly imagine."
Chapter 6
Josiah Dunnigan watched his crew unload boxes of electronics. He had another truck waiting and it was nearing time to quit for the day. He didn't want to be kept late, just because his crew couldn't move a little faster. He didn't need the overtime, after all. Obediah Tanner had paid him well over the years—for information in addition to the occasional capture of a hapless shapeshifter for one of Obediah's lucrative hunts. Josiah was a member in good standing of the Amarillo Pack and he wanted to keep it that way.
He'd gotten away from the game preserve long before Obediah's bunch had been attacked and taken down that fateful night. He was now passing information to Zeke Tanner, Obediah's older brother. He didn't come by the information himself—he had several carefully placed informants, willing to help for a fee or the promise of revenge. They all fed him information and Zeke was perfectly happy to pay for what he received. In fact, if Josiah could manage to do this latest thing Zeke asked, he'd never have to work again and he'd be away from Ezekiel's demands. A ranch in Wyoming sounded very good and he could afford that, along with spending the rest of his life in leisure if he pulled this off.
"Bring William Winkler's head to me and you'll have ten million, free and clear," Zeke had said over the phone. Josiah intended to do just that. Only he was planning to have one of his sources do it. He could blackmail them, after all. Threaten to go straight to the Grand Master with what he knew. They'd cooperate, all right. Piece of cake.
"Hurry it up," Josiah shouted at his forklift driver. "We don't have all day, here."
* * *
"Keep it quiet—it's not something your father or Nathan can do anything about," Winkler advised Ashe regarding the unexpected visit.
"But what can you tell me about him?" Ashe asked.
"Kid, this is going to sound really strange, but knowledge of that race protects itself," Winkler sighed. "So I couldn't tell you much at all, other than what I've already told you."
"That's messed up," Ashe stared at Winkler. "Are you saying that even if I knew anything, I couldn't repeat it?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Winkler agreed. "They may tell you all sorts of things about themselves, but there's no way you can tell anyone else unless that person knows what you know already."
"Is there anything else you can say about them? Since there's not just the one? You said them."
"I did, didn't I?" Winkler's mouth tugged into a half-frown. "I think I can tell you they don't lie. Ever. But they word things carefully at times, so you have to pick through whatever they say."
"Are they dangerous?" Ashe searched Winkler's face for clues.
"Yes and no," Winkler said and left it at that. "Come on; let's go meet the candidates for Principal. You can tell me what you think."
* * *
Ashe shook hands with Catherine Copeland and her husband, Barton, from the Louisville Pack, learning that Catherine had been Vice-Principal at one of the school districts there. "I've already examined the test scores," Catherine said to Winkler as they settled in the DeLuca's family room. "They're all right but I think they can be better." Ashe disliked her immediately.
"Which scores?" Ashe asked. "There aren't very many students. Which scores are you talking about?"
"That's to which scores are you referring?" Catherine corrected his English. Ashe mentally intensified his desire to pass the GED.
"My apologies, ma'am," Ashe nodded politely. "To which scores are you referring? And how will your feelings toward shapeshifters affect your ability to run a school such as Star Cove Combined?"
"I will only answer those questions for the interviewing panel," Catherine replied haughtily.
"What if I want to know?" Winkler lifted an eyebrow. Catherine Copeland's head swiveled toward the Dallas Packmaster. She'd been courting him the entire time, Ashe knew. It was Mr. Winkler this and Mr. Winkler that, but when a prospective student opened his mouth, she became cold and arrogant.
"Children will be treated the same in my school," Catherine insisted. Ashe wanted to point out the lie, but held his tongue. He imagined that Winkler could smell a lie just as easily as he could.
"Of the seventy-eight students here, how many are werewolf and how many are shapeshifters?" Winkler asked innocently.
"Fifty-six werewolves and twenty-two shapeshifters," Catherine replied promptly. Winkler had asked that question for a reason, Ashe knew. If the race truly didn't matter, then she would have pointed that out. It was obvious that she'd studied this—had looked through the records already and knew which students were werewolf and which were shapeshifter. Ashe didn't want another bigot in the Principal's office. He'd seen enough of that already.
"How do you feel about moving to Texas?" Winkler turned his attention to Barton, Catherine's husband.
"Not a problem. I've been promised a position by the Grand Master if Catherine gets the job."
"What position do you think that might be?" Winkler straightened the crease in his black jeans. Ashe wanted to smile. Winkler dressed casually unless he had a business meeting, but he always looked tailored and well-dressed anyway. Ashe figured the jeans alone had cost quite a bit. The snakeskin boots? Probably made to order for the werewolf Packmaster.
"Some sort of administrative position, I think," Barton replied coolly. "Perhaps assisting Catherine in her work. I ran an insurance office in Louisville."
"Did you like selling insurance?" Winkler asked.
"Of course. I still do that part-time. If you have any insurance needs, I can give you one of my cards."
"I'll consider it," Winkler inclined his head. Ashe knew what that meant—Winkler was dismissing Barton Copeland politely. He was seeing a bit of the Winkler who sat in boardrooms and important meetings. This was a colder, more calculating Winkler. The Dallas Packmaster had already assessed Catherine and Barton Copeland, finding them shallow and inadequate.