"Those four guards have acquired the taste for human blood," Weldon growled after the last werewolf left the kitchen. I figured I knew what was coming, only this time I wasn't about to argue over it. Innocents had died. They weren't threatening a room full of old vampires who most likely had killed many times. These were humans who hadn't known werewolves existed until they'd been chosen by a handful and hunted down to die. And the sixteen-year-old? One of the werewolf women wept as she described his death, and went on to say that according to local media, he'd gotten a night job to help his parents pay bills during some difficult times. His car had broken down on the way home one evening. That information made me so angry my eyes were likely blood red.
Weldon walked back into the dining room after the last Pack member was questioned. "Avery, I had no idea I'd be doing anything other than officially confirming your status as Packmaster when I arrived," Weldon sighed. "As of this moment, I am revoking that status. You and those four over there will be executed. Tonight." He turned to the owner of the house. "I don't wish to do this in your home," Weldon said. "We'll go out back for this. Who wants to help hold them?"
Several male werewolves stood, including the property owner. There were only two female werewolves in the bunch to begin with, both of them mated. Weldon nodded at the Pack members who stood, Avery and the four were taken and we all trooped out to the back fence surrounding the house. Avery looked like a deer in the headlights by that time. I had no idea how he'd thought his four guards weren't up to something, and he'd hunted those humans right alongside them. Now, he was going to pay for that with his life.
Weldon turned and took Avery down himself. Winkler got three of the others. Simms was now the only one left; he'd been the one to haul in the boy. Weldon deliberately held him back until last. "Lissa, do you want this one?" Weldon asked me softly. I walked up to Simms, who'd watched all the others die in front of him. He swallowed hard when I approached.
"I don't know, Weldon," I said, turning around and forcing the claws out on my hand. My back was to Simms so he didn't see. Whirling so fast I was more than likely a blur, I sliced through his neck. The two who held him looked on in amazement as Simms toppled, his head never leaving his body until it was flat in the grass. It rolled away after that. "Yeah, I guess I did want that one," I said, retracting my claws.
I washed my hands inside the house while Weldon talked to the rest of the Pack, who decided in a democratic fashion which wolf they wanted as interim Packmaster. It ended up being the property owner, who seemed to have leadership qualities. I didn't think anybody was willing to challenge him, either. He chose his Second right away; Norwood had argued several times with Avery over what Simms and the others were doing. Weldon gave his blessing to the interim Packmaster, told him he'd be back in six months to see how things were going, thanked the man for the meal and we left. The Pack had some accidents to arrange to explain dead bodies.
"Some days I hate my job," Weldon shrugged out of his shirt first thing when we got back to the room. Avery may have gotten a bite or two in, but he wasn't much of a challenge for the Grand Master. Winkler, having done away with three of the others, also had a few bites but nothing that wouldn't heal quickly. At least they didn't seem to have the vampire's allergy to werewolf saliva like I did. I sat outside in Weldon's little sitting area, doing my duty as a bodyguard while he took a shower and cleaned up.
"Lissa, I hate to put you back in that bag, but I want to leave first thing in the morning," Weldon said when he walked out of the bathroom dressed in a towel. He called the pilot and co-pilot, had them bring the bag over and take the cooler and most of the other luggage back with them. We only kept what we'd need for the following day. I pulled out more fleece to dress in since I was going to be unconscious when they hauled me out of there in the morning.
* * *
"It's a good thing she's small and limber," Weldon mumbled to Winkler, who'd folded up the body bag that held Lissa's sleeping body. He had her not only folded up but hanging from a hook on the cart the bellboy was wheeling toward the cab. Winkler tossed the bag into the trunk on top of the other bags. Weldon gave him a hard look, Winkler shrugged and they climbed into the cab after tipping the bellboy.
The jet ran into a bit of turbulence over Lake Michigan on the way to Grand Rapids. "I think Lissa's lucky she's missing this," Weldon was bouncing around in his seat. Winkler was tapping away on his computer; Kelvin was humming The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
"Wrong lake," Winkler muttered in Kelvin's direction.
Once they left the lake behind, the turbulence cleared up and the jet landed in Grand Rapids without further incident. It was still early, nearing noon, so the three werewolves rented an SUV, loaded it up and drove toward a hotel. The local Packmaster wasn't expecting them until later that evening. Weldon wanted to leave the dust of Des Moines behind him as quickly as he could; the Pack there had mourning to do and needed time to regroup without his interference. Three rooms were booked at the Marriott downtown, which was also near the Grand River; Winkler preferred a water view whenever he could get it. Weldon made the call to the local Packmaster, letting him know they'd arrived early and where they'd booked rooms, assuring him that they just wanted to relax a little before going to dinner with the Packmaster, his wife and Second later on.
* * *
Sunset was a little after five that Thursday and we were one week away from Thanksgiving when my eyes popped open. Winkler had already pulled me from the bag and settled me on his bed, propped up with extra pillows. He had a bag of blood out for me too, handing it over the moment I realized he was sitting next to me. Kelvin, who walked in from the Grand Master's room through the connecting door, watched in fascination as I drank my meal. Winkler took the third of a bag that I couldn't finish and locked it inside the cooler. He still had the key with him for some reason and hadn't given it to me. He and I both knew that I could pop the lock off the cooler if it was necessary, but I still couldn't figure the whole thing out. Winkler wasn't taking any chances with my blood supply and that puzzled me a little.
I cleaned up and changed after my meal; Weldon called the Packmaster for the name of the restaurant where we were eating and said he'd meet him there. I think Weldon wanted as little small talk and chitchat as possible without appearing rude. The night before hadn't settled well with him, I could tell.
This Packmaster had a werewolf wife, and while she'd been informed that Weldon was bringing a female vampire as a bodyguard, I think she was expecting somebody dressed in a revealing black leather bustier and stiletto heels while showing fang to everybody. When I showed up in a nice charcoal gray suit with a black turtleneck under the jacket, I almost heard her sigh of relief. My short boots didn't have more than a two-inch heel.