Destroyer (Page 5)

* * *

"Mr. Tanner, we have to do it on the full moon. Our target is moving into the fortress today—two weeks ahead of schedule, according to my informant."

"Then I hope your informant is prepared to help," Zeke Tanner growled. Josiah hadn’t wanted to make the call; he knew Zeke would be more out of sorts than usual this close to the full moon. He just didn’t want his head snapped off by the rogue werewolf.

"My informant will most certainly be ready to go," Josiah did a bit of growling himself.

"Good. I want a call, first thing Monday," Zeke said and hung up. Josiah ended the call with a sigh; he had last minute plans to make.

* * *

Ashe eyed his new bedroom furniture critically, trying to decide if he liked everything where it was. "I want the bed here," he said, gesturing with his hands. "So I can see the water when I wake up in the morning."

The set was moved before the mattress and box spring were placed. Ashe gave a thumbs-up to the furniture delivery crew. The mattress was settled on the bed and Ashe pulled the new comforter and sheets from his closet to make it up. His clothes and other belongings had arrived an hour earlier. Lewis had gone home with Bear Wright to talk over his kidnapping with the Star Cove Principal. Ashe knew Bear also wanted to discuss organizing the shapeshifter community with the Arkansas deputy.

Ashe pulled his cell out the moment it rang. "Randy?"

"Ashe, meet us at Pasquale’s," Randy said. "About fifteen minutes. Can you make that?"

"Sure," Ashe replied.

* * *

"Mr. Winkler, Trajan, I’m meeting Randy at Pasquale’s," Ashe announced as he walked into the spacious kitchen. Winkler’s new cook, a werewolf named Craig, was busy preparing a meal for the others while familiarizing himself with the new kitchen. He looked up from his work when Ashe entered.

"Be home by eleven," Winkler said, sipping a mixed drink Craig handed to the Dallas Packmaster.

"Will do, boss," Ashe nodded and walked out, disappearing before he reached the front door.

* * *

"What’s up with the kid?" Craig asked as he handed a plate of appetizers to Trajan and Winkler.

"Don’t upset him; his parents have pretty much abandoned him," Winkler said. "I’m his legal guardian, so treat him just like one of my kids."

"He’s a talented shapeshifter," Trajan added, pulling two crab cakes onto a plate. "I wouldn’t get on his bad side, if I were you."

"Why? What can a shapeshifter do to a werewolf?" Craig asked, snorting derisively.

"Fry you, to start with," Trajan said.

"You’re such a kidder," Craig said and went back to his cooking.

* * *

"Ashe, this is Sara." Randy couldn’t stop the helpless grin from spreading across his face. Sara, perky and smiling, with short, red hair curling riotously due to the beach humidity, took Ashe’s hand when he held it out. Ashe stiffened and went completely still.

"Ashe? Ashe, what’s wrong?" It took Randy nearly a minute to get Ashe’s attention again. Sara had stared at Ashe, her smile disappearing the moment Ashe had taken her hand. Ashe blinked and let Sara’s hand go.

"I’m sorry about your dad," Ashe said. "Really sorry. Please, sit down. I’ll be all right in a minute." Randy watched, concerned, as both Sara and Ashe sat at the table, Ashe rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache. Sara appeared frightened.

"Sara, it’s nothing to worry about," Ashe’s blue eyes studied her face. "I just see things, now and then. It’s what I am. Randy, if you take her to your mother after this, you need to tell Sara that she’s a werewolf first."

"Ashe," Randy hissed. That was information he wasn’t prepared to give. Sara need never know.

"Dude, Sara’s a shifter. A small one. I’ve already dealt with one shifter today who might make a meal for the Pack. Sara’s another one of those."

Sara was now staring at Randy in shock. "Your mother’s a werewolf?" she squeaked. "You’re not a wolf, Randy, your scent is human. How did you know about my dad?" She turned to Ashe, her eyes troubled. "And we shouldn’t be talking about this in a public place!"

"I have us shielded, nobody will hear," Ashe muttered, knowing Sara was upset and Randy angry.

"Ashe, how in the name of hell?" Randy stared at Ashe.

"Dude, we’ll have a talk soon. You don’t remember a lot of things because the vampires don’t want it."

"There are vampires?" Sara hissed.

"My dad is a vampire," Ashe sighed. "At least the one I think of as my dad. I really don’t know who my real father is. Or my mother. The waiter’s coming," he added. Randy drew in a breath—the waiter was approaching from behind Ashe. How could he know?

"But," Sara began. She couldn’t decide whether to stay or get up and walk out. How did this sixteen-year-old know anything about her? How?

"Baby, don’t," Randy reached out a hand and covered hers with his. Sara sat back with a sigh, still trying to get her heart to beat normally again.

Don’t worry, I’m just different, Ashe sent mindspeech to Sara, who jerked in her seat while the waiter poured water into glasses and prepared to take drink orders.

* * *

"I’ve got eight coming in next weekend," Bear informed Lewis, passing a soft drink to the shifter. They sat in Bear’s makeshift office inside his Star Cove home. "Some of them are Old Ones."

"You managed to get them to agree to a meeting?" Lewis popped the tab on the soda can to drink.

"I know a couple of them really well. They convinced a third one to come with them," Bear nodded. "I’d like a representative from every faction, if I can get it."

"How old are the two that you know?" Lewis asked.

"One is nearly four hundred," Bear said. "The other is around three hundred, I think."

"My dad told me stories about the Old Ones when I was little," Lewis said. "He told me that a shapeshifter married a wizard and that’s where the Old Ones came from."

"I don’t know what happened, truthfully, and they won’t talk about it," Bear said. "But something happened to give them longer lives. What I do know in each case was they had shifters for mothers. No information at all on the fathers."

"And no way to find out," Lewis muttered. "I wish I could make it back for that meeting, though, but I’ve been away from work too long as it is. If Mr. Winkler hadn’t gotten Matt Michaels on the phone, I might have some tall explaining to do over this without letting anything slip."