Michael had been listening to our conversation and couldn't hold back any longer. "Is the Director looking for recruits? Man, I'd love to work for the FBI and not have to hide what I am from my coworkers."
"Bill will come by tomorrow afternoon," Winkler said. "He's tying up loose ends in Chicago right now."
"In on that terrorist thing?" Jerry asked.
"We were all in on that terrorist thing," Winkler chuckled. "We just got back yesterday. Bill's department is taking all the credit for capturing Rahim Alif—we just can't announce on the nightly news that four vampires and a werewolf handled the whole thing, now can we?"
"That's all the news is about right now—the capture of a terrorist on U.S. soil," Michael snorted. "They're saying the Vice President may have been the target."
* * *
Xenides considered tossing the television across the room, but the hotel staff would receive complaints if he made too much noise so late at night. Rahim had allowed himself to be captured by U.S. authorities. Rahim had slipped up one time too many and Xenides hadn't been close enough to pick up the pieces. The fool. Xenides' human snipers were dead—two had been killed on-site and the third died on the way to the hospital. Nobody would get information from them. Director Bill Jennings had accomplished what Anthony Hancock had failed to do, however, capturing Rahim. Jennings was becoming a bigger problem than Hancock. Xenides growled—Jennings had the little princess, still, and that angered the ancient vampire greatly.
The news was now reporting that Seraphim had been captured, but she knew next to nothing—Richter made sure of that. Xenides hadn't been able to reach Richter, so he was likely dead or captured. Xenides had placed compulsion, however, for Rahim and Richter not to reveal anything about him or his plans. He was safe. He'd just have to go looking for other human scum to do his bidding; Xenides had already gathered as many rogue vampires as he could. An idea occurred to him, however, and he smiled before lifting his cell and dialing a number.
* * *
"He's not responding to the medication as well as we'd hoped."
The physician's words dealt a blow to Franklin, who'd spent yet another night at the hospital. He was exhausted and Merrill had gone off to check on the reported sighting of a vampire the Council was tracking. Greg hadn't wakened and Franklin was worried that he'd slipped into a coma. He didn't ask the question however; he was too afraid to learn the answer.
"Is there anything else to try?" Franklin rubbed his eyes.
"I'm ordering new antibiotics; we'll see how that goes," the doctor replied.
Franklin watched as the physician walked down the hospital corridor, away from Greg's room. He considered calling Merrill and then thought better of it. His fingers itched to call Lissa too, only Merrill had forbidden it. Franklin walked inside Greg's room instead, prepared to sit at his bedside again. Sliding into a chair, Franklin leaned his head against the edge of the hospital bed, near Greg's hand and closed his eyes.
* * *
Monday, September sixth came along, as did Director Bill Jennings. Michael Robinson, our new werewolf guard, was doing his best to work up the courage to ask Bill for a job. I intervened and sent Bill mindspeech. Bill's eyebrows lifted slightly and he nodded. I realized background checks and things would have to be done, but Bill would consider it now. Some people were just too shy to ask for something they wanted for themselves. I had no doubts that Michael would be a good hire—I got good vibes off him all around.
"I spoke with the President," Bill said aloud. Everybody turned to listen. I was sitting at the kitchen island having a glass of water; Roff was sitting next to me having a sandwich after fixing one for Winkler and Chris. Tony, René and Gavin were off doing training again, from which I had been excluded. Roff's sandwich actually smelled good; it was roast beef, thin-sliced with tomato, cheese and lettuce. I got up and made one for myself, asking Bill if he wanted something while I worked. He smiled and nodded, so I put two sandwiches together and then settled on my barstool to eat while we listened to Bill.
"The president wants to give you another commendation," Bill took a bite of his sandwich.
"Ummm," I was busy chewing a mouthful of roast-beef sandwich and it tasted like heaven. I closed my eyes and sighed in pleasure. I could taste it! That was amazing. Winkler was watching me, a look of fascination crossing his features. When I swallowed, I said, "Bill, I haven't looked at the last one. Or the Medal of Freedom." I felt embarrassed over that, but so many things had happened at that time, including Tony's little betrayal, that I'd handed it back to Merrill and refused to read the letter or open the medal case.
"How are you eating that?" Winkler interrupted. He was shaking his head in confusion. I was enjoying my food.
"Honey," I turned to study his handsome face, "I feel a lot more like I do now than I did a while ago." That wasn't mine—I was quoting an old friend, Bill Scholes, who'd lived close to Don and me. He'd moved away when he retired and we didn't get to see him after that. I missed his philosophical musings. I smiled at Winkler and took another bite of my sandwich.
"Raona, I hope you do not have to be sick later," Roff was concerned, too; I could tell.
"We'll see. I haven't coughed up any wine or water lately, and I always had to before."
"Lissa, I have a confession to make." Griffin was there in the kitchen, scaring Bill, Winkler and Michael half to death. Well, Kifirin and the Larentii weren't the only ones with Nexus Echo. Winkler looked as if he were about to pull me to safety and start fighting with Griffin. I patted his arm.
"Winkler, this is my father," I said, nodding in Griffin's direction.
"You're the werewolf?" Griffin held his hand out to Winkler. Winkler took it, still eyeing my natural father with distrust. I knew what that look on his face meant; he couldn't scent Griffin any better than I could and the news that I had a father was shocking. I'm sure Winkler had all the old records on me, just as the vampires did. More than likely, he knew all about Howard Graham. Griffin was reading Winkler's mind, too.
"That man was never Lissa's father," Griffin huffed. He turned back to me, then. "Lissa, sweetheart, I gave my blood to you after you were wounded on Refizan. It was during the day and you were nearly asleep. That's why you don't remember, baby. My blood will allow you to walk in daylight and eat normal food if you want. You can still live on blood, but you don't have to. I also removed the shield disc on the back of your neck. You don't need it, now."