Three days later Davis was there the moment I woke, asking me to cook dinner again. "Winkler wants to celebrate a little," he said, so I checked the fridge for something I could fix. Winkler had sent someone after cube steak, which meant he wanted a chicken fry. That's exactly what he got, with all the trimmings. He uncorked a couple bottles of wine, too, pouring out for everybody. "I have an announcement," he said, lifting his glass. "I finished the program, today. The preliminary tests are very good. I think we have a winner." Everybody clapped and Winkler even handed a glass of wine to me so I could toast with the others.
"Congratulations," I said, clinking my glass against his. He was nearly vibrating, he was so happy. He hugged me, too, and didn't stop there, kissing me a couple of times. I made the excuse that I had to go clean the kitchen, so his fellow werewolves expressed their appreciation and they all loaded into one of the SUVs and took off toward a bar.
They probably should have taken Gavin or me with them, as they were all plastered when they got back and I wondered how steady their driving had been on the road home. I also wondered what kind of shape Phil and Glen would be in to stand guard when morning came. That's why I went ahead and looked through Winkler's book that he kept on the bar with phone numbers in it.
"Sam, he's drunk and the others are, too. Do you think there's any way we can get somebody else up here to stay for a while until they sleep it off?"
"Sure. Todd and one of the other guys can come up," he said. "I'll get them on the road right away."
I was glad they arrived before dawn; I was beginning to worry a little. Todd seemed happy to see me and told me he was getting out of running the hay machine that afternoon. "Good for you," I said, patting him on the shoulder. Gavin and I went to bed shortly afterward and I was glad to lie down. The summer heat was a little wearing, even on a vampire.
It turned out to be a good thing that Todd and the other werewolf (he'd been introduced to me as Dennis) were still there when Phil got up before the others and went out for a while. He came back with two werewolves and six humans and all hell broke loose.
* * *
I knew something was wrong even before I woke; the noise was enough to wake the dead (no pun intended), and I had to command my sluggish body to rise, although the sun hadn't completely set that night. Gunshots were erupting from beyond the deck, with answering gunfire from inside the house. There was shouting, growling, howling. I think I was praying again, something I seldom do. Grabbing a bag of blood from the fridge, I was drinking it as quickly as I could but still felt like I was moving in slow motion. I finished my meal the moment the sun slipped below the horizon.
Phil and his army were lined up just off the deck leading to the French doors. The deck itself was built of heavy redwood planking and stood around four feet off the ground. Phil and his allies were ducking below the deck while intermittently firing at Winkler and the others inside the house. With the answering gunfire coming from the house, every window at the back was shattered and the French doors were hanging off their hinges. A bullet thunked into the frame while I watched and a chunk of wood flew off. Phil, for whatever reason, was making a challenge and not in the traditional werewolf fashion. If Winkler could only hang on for a few minutes, help was on the way. I intended to get the head of this snake right off the bat and see if the body fell apart. Turning to mist before I left the guesthouse, I floated out the door, slipping behind Phil and hovering there for a few seconds. He and his buddies were still taking pot shots into the house; I saw bags and containers of extra rounds lying at their feet. No doubt about it, these guys were prepared for a siege. I had no idea what kinds of weapons Winkler had inside the house since guns and ammunition weren't something I went snooping into closets for.
Backing up just a little, I got as low to the ground as I could. None of Phil's bunch were watching behind them, they were watching what was in front of them. It was almost peaceful there, the occasional bullet whizzing overhead notwithstanding, as I made my turn back to corporeality.
Phil's neck was broken when I tossed him aside before turning to the one next in line and smashing his face in with my fist. Now they were aiming guns at me, but just as I'd done with the bunch in Dallas, I snatched their guns away and whacked them in the head with the stock. I was moving too fast for them to get a good shot off and one of them blasted a companion in the face, trying to hit me. They would have done more damage—the werewolf members, anyway—if they'd turned and tried to bite me. Winkler, realizing that something was going on outside, came out with Davis and started helping me. It didn't take long after that. A bullet graze was all I had and I was brushing hair out of my face when Gavin finally made his appearance.
"You get to help clean up," I told him snippily, "since you weren't here for the work." He just raised an eyebrow at me and went to sling Phil over his shoulder.
Todd called Sam's dad, who was there in an hour with a box van. Phil and his bunch were unceremoniously loaded into it and Winkler growled while assailants' pockets were emptied. I got the idea that Phil had recruited from other Packs and Winkler was planning to hand information over to Weldon, who'd deliver the news (along with a reprimand) to waiting Packmasters. "I know somebody who has fishing boats," Sam Sr. informed Winkler, once the bodies were locked inside the van. "We'll weight the bodies and dump them about ten miles out in the gulf." Gavin went with Todd and Sam Sr. to do just that.
"You need a new Second," I told Winkler, who nodded. "Why the hell did he turn on you now?"
"The program," Winkler said. "I know you weren't awake for the argument we had before they all started shooting, but he'd pitched in with somebody who offered him ten million for the program if he'd deliver it and my head on a platter."
"I sort of like your head where it is," I said. "But you know this could happen again."
"I know." Winkler raked fingers through his hair. I think if I closed my eyes, I could see that gesture; it was so much a part of him.
"Well, come on," I took his elbow. "You probably need something to drink and I want to talk to you." This talk needed to be private, just between Winkler and me, so we shut ourselves inside the bedroom that Whitney and Sam used when they came to visit. I laid out what I thought was reality for Winkler. I gave him the best advice I could that night and he said he'd think about it. He thought about it for three days and then called a press conference. He'd gone to Dallas to hold the thing and every major network and most of the minor ones were there. I saw a sea of reporters in front of the Dallas house on television. Gavin and I had stayed behind at the beach house.