"I remember—I was there when the army of Dark Elemaiya vampires tried to kill all of us," Winkler huffed. "I know all about the misters, the mindspeakers and the shapeshifter vampires, all bent on destruction. Where we differ is how they were destroyed."
"I know what's in the official records the Council keeps," Tony slapped Winkler on the back. "We don't deal in fantasy, like you do."
"Tony, if it makes you feel better, then believe anything you like." Winkler stalked from the room.
"Come on, wimp. Get those weights up," Trajan grinned as he put Wayne through his paces on the weight bench. "Your dad can do twice that—easy."
"Seriously? Dad can do six hundred?" Wayne hissed out a breath. Ashe watched, leaning against the wall of the weight room. Marco was spotting Wayne—it wouldn't do to let the boss's son get smacked by three hundred pounds. Ashe had worked his way up to one-seventy-five. Now he was determined to do better than that.
"Yep. Your old man can do six hundred, easy," Winkler stalked into the room, acting like a caged wolf. "Come on, get off that bench. I need to work off a little steam."
Trajan put more weight on the bar; Winkler stretched first and then got on the bench. Ashe was completely impressed when Winkler did four hundred to start, and then Trajan added more weight until the six-hundred mark was reached. Ashe reminded himself that this was the Dallas Packmaster, with one of the largest Packs in the U.S. The Grand Master depended upon him just as much as his official Second; his son, Daryl Harper.
"Okay, I'll work harder," Wayne grumbled when Winkler rose from the weight bench.
"Good. I'm going into town for a Dilly Bar. Anybody want to come?" Winkler grinned. Ashe, Trajan, Trace and Marco loaded into Winkler's SUV. Winkler drove, which was unusual. Trajan or one of the others usually did. Ashe loaded into the back seat with Trace and Marco; Trajan sat in the front with Winkler. Gene, Gabe and Tony stayed behind with Wynter and Wayne.
Winkler pulled into the parking lot of the Port Aransas Dairy Queen minutes later. Only six cars were in the parking lot. Ashe smelled the familiar scent of hamburgers, fries and other fast food when they walked inside the small eatery. Before making his selection, Ashe examined the freezer filled with frozen treats, deciding he wanted a soft-serve cone after all.
"What made you want a Dilly Bar, boss?" Trajan grinned as they loaded into the SUV again. Winkler was munching on his ice-cream bar, so Trajan was driving. He'd settled for a limeade drink.
"Because Ashe is too young to go to a bar," Winkler said. "Take us to the beach. We'll drive on the sand for a while."
"Charles, did you find anything?" Wlodek eyed his vampire assistant. Charles had several aliases, but in each of them, the first name was always Charles. He'd been Wlodek's personal secretary/assistant for three hundred years. As a vampire, and even as a human before that, Charles was eternally curious. He was also discretion itself and capable of doing at least five things at once. Plus, since the invention of typewriters and then computers, Charles was most likely the fastest typist anyone had ever seen.
"I did, Honored One." Charles stood before Wlodek's antique desk. It wasn't Louis XIV—it was older, heavier and made of darker wood. Rumor had it that this was the fifth antique desk that Wlodek had used since becoming Head of the Council—he'd destroyed the other four in fits of anger.
"And what does it say?" Wlodek lifted an eyebrow at Charles.
"You should read this for yourself, Honored One. I need to sit down, I think."
"Feeling faint, Charles?"
"No, Honored One. Feeling frightened."
"Anthony is already in the states, Honored One," Gavin Montegue wasn't expecting a call from Wlodek so close to dawn. He was in Barcelona, tracking a rogue vampire.
"But your vampire child is on another assignment. I want you to bring this Dark Elemaiya to me. I wish to question him before he dies. He is already causing havoc among humans, werewolves and shapeshifters. I can trust you with this. Tape his mouth shut if you have to. Select two others to go with you; I want this done within the week, quickly and efficiently. No trail. Understand?"
"Of course, Honored One. Russell and Will are available, and Dmitri can take over this assignment."
"Good. Keep me advised." Wlodek terminated the call abruptly.
"You wanted to come along, you get to change the tire." Ezekiel didn't have much patience with Jack Howard. The former congressman thought of himself as an outdoorsman and hunter. He was soft in Zeke's estimation. When a tire had blown on one of the trucks, Ezekiel ordered Jack Howard and two others to change it. Howard grumbled about it the whole time. Sweat dripped off the end of Howard's nose as he rolled the replacement tire toward the front of the transport vehicle. It resembled those the army used to haul troops, with canvas covering the back portion. The canvas sides had been rolled up to provide airflow for those riding inside. Now, all the passengers stood on the side of a dirt track in jungle conditions, while Jack Howard and two others worked to change the heavy tire. Insects buzzed around Jack Howard's sweaty face, making the situation worse.
"How long will we be at sea?" Jack huffed as he and a werewolf positioned the tire on the wheel bolts.
"Three days," Ezekiel said, watching as the other werewolf placed lug nuts on the bolts and screwed them on. The truck was let down after the bolts were tightened, then checked one last time before everyone loaded up and resumed their journey.
"I don't know which direction Pruitt went—he won't answer calls from his Second, but I've ordered him to keep trying," Weldon Harper, Werewolf Grand Master, informed Winkler over the phone. Winkler had walked down the beach a little way so the others wouldn't be privy to the conversation. Winkler could see Ashe wading in the surf near the SUV while the others watched nearby. A half-moon hung low over the water, lighting a pale path toward the east. It would become full in five nights. Every werewolf felt it—it pulled at them the entire week.
"I don't want to send my trackers across the border after him if I don't have a specific location to send them," Weldon added. "If we catch scent of him, we'll go after him for the murders he's ordered."
"I may have some ideas on that," Winkler said. "What are you planning to do about the Phoenix Pack in the meantime? It's obvious Pruitt has abandoned them. If he sticks his nose back in the U.S. now, he knows we'll be all over him."