"I'd ask if you wanted a soda or something, but I know better," Trajan said.
"I'd just have to cough it up later. Discreetly, of course," Tony replied. "I've played this game," he added. "When my surrogate sire wasn't looking. He thinks it's a frivolous waste of time.
Ashe blinked at the former Director of the Joint NSA and Homeland Security Department, wondering what a surrogate sire was and why Tony had one. Figuring that he wasn't likely to get that question answered, he turned back to the video game. Tony Hancock had been vampire for twenty-two years. Ashe knew exactly what his date of death was in the official records. He'd died at age thirty-seven, so he'd be fifty-nine now and didn't look a day past twenty-six.
"Watch this, we're gonna save the universe," Trajan grinned, loading up the game. Trace did well enough against his brother, but Marco was working as hard as he could against Ashe. With Ashe, it was as if he always knew the enemy's moves before they were made. Trajan and Trace sat back and whistled as Ashe obliterated cyber creatures, one after another.
"Here, my arm's tired," Ashe handed the controller off to Trajan while his avatar died on screen.
"Holy crap, kid, did you even have your eyes open there at the end?"
"Don't know," Ashe shrugged. "Now you know why Sali won't play against me anymore. If he wants to play, he invites Larry, Jeff and Hayes over." Ashe named off the other male students in his and Sali's class. "I'm going to bed. If you want a rematch sometime, let me know." Ashe rose from his seat on the floor. He couldn't help himself as he walked out of the room. How much Elemaiya blood do you have? He sent to Tony Hancock.
I'm an eighth, Tony returned. Ashe was shocked that the vampire even answered.
Honored One, the child is more than talented. He seems intuitive, if that is the proper term. I'd say it borders on Foresight, actually. Is there more information available on the Elemaiya? I never received anything, as you know, and they do not bother with anything less than half-bloods. If there is anyone you know who might be able to provide information, I'd appreciate any assistance with this. It will help me determine what his full talents are, I think.
-Anthony.
Tony closed his laptop and sighed. The boy was only sixteen. He hoped Wlodek would give him more than two years before sending someone to collect him. The rule of conscription was at times a harsh one. If the vampire race found a human who would enrich their race, the normal rules of turning could be ignored. That's how brothers had been turned—mindspeech and misting ran in families. The Council's two misters were brothers, as were the two other mindspeakers. Tony had mindspeech but no blood siblings. They'd have been turned quickly if he'd had any. Tony had been adopted as a baby by his werewolf mother. He had a stepbrother—Deryn Alford, a werewolf in the Denver Pack. No werewolf had ever become vampire. They also didn't have the misting or mindspeech ability that a handful of vampires held over the centuries. Tony was surprised to get a return email so quickly from the Head of the Council, the message causing his cell to vibrate. Tony read it from his phone rather than opening his laptop again.
Will contact my eldest, the message read. He will know if anyone will—W.
"Yeah, he'd know, all right." Tony deleted the message and went to walk the beach.
"You promised to bring the boy," Obediah Tanner's brother stared at Dominic Pruitt.
"He took off with Dusty. I'll get him back. He'll learn what it's like from this end of things," Dom snorted.
"You know we need him and more like him to haul this stuff across the border," Ezekiel Tanner snapped. "All we have is older males, and half of those have bullets lodged in their bodies. They can't run as fast anymore."
Dom didn't want to point out that Obediah and Ezekiel had chased away or killed any females who'd associated with the rogue Pack, which was located just across the border in Mexico. It prevented any young wolves coming from that Pack. This was a lucrative business, but they worried about recruiting from any of the Grand Master's Packs. Somebody would surely pass the information along and the Grand Master would send his Trackers with an army of wolves and vampires at their backs.
Dom, Obediah and Ezekiel had smuggled drugs and contraband for years. Dom was searching for a good location to set up another game preserve—the one Obediah ran had brought in huge payoffs from wealthy clients, in addition to being the perfect place to hide smuggled drugs until they could be distributed throughout the United States.
Hunting on the preserve had been Obediah's idea—the shapeshifters had no form of government to protest against the practice, so it was easy to kidnap a rare one here and there. There was no shortage of well-paying hunters either, who jumped at the invitation to take them down. Dom and Ezekiel both realized that Obediah was likely dead now, after the raid on his game preserve—neither had heard from him since.
Dom hadn't heard from the two wolves he'd sent after Jackson either, and he was getting worried. Jackson hadn't turned yet, but that could happen anytime. He'd informed Jack of what he was shortly after his mother took off. The boy hadn't taken it very well, but he'd come to like it soon, Dom was sure of it. The boy would make a good runner, too, if they could get him back. He'd thought to recruit Dusty, but his oldest son had too much of his mother in him.
Dustin. Just the thought of him made Dominic growl. Dom had given up on his oldest son. Jackson liked the expensive cell phones, toys and the Corvette his father had bought for him recently. With the promise of wealth, Jackson could be convinced to run drugs as a wolf. All it took was a specially made harness, loaded with sealed bags of illegal substances. Money would replace the drugs in the bags, once the receivers on the U.S. side of the border were reached. Border guards were less likely to aim at what they saw as a wolf or coyote. It was easy for them to slip through. The bullet wounds came mostly from farmers and ranchers, worried about their livestock.
"I'll get the boy back," Dom promised. "Maybe we can hit that supernatural community, too. Should be enough young wolves to be had there, plus the kids who turn into larger shifters. They can carry as well as a wolf can."
"What?" Zeke stared at Dominic Pruitt for seconds before the idea took root. Dom recognized the light in Zeke's eyes as he weighed the merits of Dom's suggestion. "Do it," Zeke said, nodding curtly. "We can snatch those old enough. They'll learn quick enough what it's like to live on this side of the border."
"How are the plans coming along on taking William Winkler down?" Dom asked. He'd gotten wind from some of Zeke's rogues that something was in the works. Zeke hadn't shared anything, yet, though.