Some Were In Time (27 page)

"I didn't want to like you, Dima," I said honestly.

"But you do," she said with a smirk. "And I like you even though I wanted to hate your lupine guts."

"I suppose we're no better than the dummies we just duped."

"I don't know," she said quietly. "The simple fact we're capable of seeing we were wrong and changing goes a long way to our credit."

"I'm wrong about a lot of things," I muttered as I glanced over at the dorks trying to prove they had known all along Jesus's middle name was Hesus. "I couldn't have been more wrong about the Cows."

"The ones who pooped my paper out?" Dima asked.

"Nope. The sexually ambiguous ones with the awful haircuts and hearts bigger than anyone I've ever met who are feeding my granny," I stated, then slapped my hand over my mouth.

"Guessing that was a secret two seconds ago," Dima said with a grin.

"Um… yep," I replied.

"Well, I do believe this car ride is the setting for trading secrets. You went first—now it's my turn. The Dragons trained and house the feral Wolves."

I was stunned to silence. How was that possible? Did the Dragons practice the witchcraft that trapped the Wolves in their animal form?

"Why would you assume I know about the feral Wolves?" I asked her coldly.

"I never assume—makes an ass out of you and me," she replied smoothly, using one of my own lines. "One—it was on top of the pile of poop paper on Angela's desk. I would guess she might think you would come to her office so she left something to entice you on top. Two—on the car ride back to your Vampyre friend's house from the zoo, I heard feral Wolves mentioned as I came around."

"Did the Dragons trap the Wolves in their animal form?" I asked.

She'd been around for several hundred years… surely she knew some of what went on with the Dragons.

"That's a question for my father," she replied with barely contained hatred. "You may ask him before I rip his head from his body."

"You've got some big daddy issues," I said as I clicked my seatbelt and mulled over what I had learned so far.

"Don't you?" she asked.

"Nope," I said with conviction. "Never knew my dad. He was a WTF agent with my mom and they were both taken out when I was a baby."

"Did they find their killer?" she asked as she laid her head back on her headrest and shut her eyes.

"Nope," I said tersely. "Case was dropped—considered unsolved."

"Dude… um," Dima said slowly.

"Yes?"

"That's the strangest thing I've ever heard. No paranormal case is ever closed before it's solved. It's how we stay secret from the humans. We deal with everything in-house. Who closed the case?" she asked, now sitting forward in her seat.

"The Council closed the case," I said tightly.

"How much are you sharing?" Hank asked as he pulled back onto the highway.

"I don't know," I mumbled as I let my head drop into my hands. Decisions were getting harder and harder to make—at least good ones were.

Was Dima what she seemed to be? Was she going to turn around and kill us dead while we slept? Worse… if she knew about Granny, would she tell? There wasn't a species around who would be okay with a Vampyre-Werewolf hybrid. I didn't even know if that was what she would turn out to be. Hell, I didn't know if she would ever wake up again.

"
We can tell her some, but nothing about Granny being turned,
" I told Hank.

"
Affirmative. Careful about the Cows too. It was the Dragons who took them out all those years ago,
" he reminded me.

"I know you guys are talking," Dima said with a snort of frustration. "Look, trust me or don't—I don't care. I'm not sure how much I trust you either. Just tell me enough so that I'm not walking in blind. I don’t want to get killed in the first five minutes."

"Fair enough," I said. "We're headed to my best friend Dwayne's home. He has a lot of them. He's a three hundred year old Vampyre. He's very recently adopted eight Were Cows and they are being courted by the Vampyres who are protecting Dwayne's property. Dwayne is going to have a gladiator-type competition to marry off his daughters to the bloodsuckers. Also, just as a heads up, Dwayne's mind meld is what killed a few of your less than stellar Dragon kinsmen. It's very messy and smells like hell. I'll make sure he knows you're on our side unless you do something shitty and then he has full permission to blow you to smithereens. I have no mother-humpin idea why the Council is headed to Michigan and I don't like it. I would assume they know we're headed there and are going to use Angela as bait."

"I'm kind of lost and grossed out here, so I'm just going to stick to the part which made a modicum of sense. Why would they use Angela as bait and for whom?" Dima asked as she massaged her temples in confusion.

"For Essie," Hank answered stiffly. "Some of the Council want her dead."

"Oooookay," Dima said. "I can see how some might find her annoying and want to slap her around a little, but wanting her dead? Don't get it."

"You do realize we can still put you out of the car," I snapped.

"P.S.," she whispered loudly. "I can fly."

"Whatever," I muttered. "If I tried hard enough I could fly too."

The silence was loud and Hank shot me a look of displeasure.

Crapcrapdamndamn. Me and my big braggy mouth.

"Werewolves can't fly," Dima said evenly as she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for more of an explanation.

She wasn't going to get one… at least not an accurate one.

"Just wishful thinking," I told her with a laugh that I prayed didn't sound as fake to her as it did to my own ears.

"Hmmm," she said. "Anything you want to share on why you're able to kill Dragons when very few others can?"

"Um… nope," I said with certainty.

"Of course not," she muttered with annoyance. "Anything else?"

"Let me synopsize… do not kill the Vamps or the Cows. Dwayne will be furious if any of them die—well, maybe not the Vamps, but don't kill them. The Cows are sacred. Pretend we're in India. There are feral Wolves hanging out on the perimeter of the property and apparently some Dragons skulking around."

"That would be because of the Wolves," Dima guessed.

"Are they on the same team?" I asked.

"Nope. From what I understand the feral Wolves hate the Dragons and visa versa."

"Now there's an understatement," Hank said sarcastically.

"Meaning?" Dima asked.

"Meaning we had an unexplainable run in with the feral Wolves and Dragons and it wasn't exactly pleasant," I said.

"You lived through it?"

It was obvious by her tone that Dima was astounded by the news.

"Duh," I said with an eye roll. "Sitting in the car with you… which would lead me to deduce we're alive."

"You're an ass," Dima snapped.

"Occasionally," I agreed. "Tell me another secret."

Dima sat and deliberated what to tell me. I never should have let her eat the damn paper. I was driven by my juvenile need to tell her she'd eaten poop. What if she overlooked something important—or life threatening?

"There were dossiers," she said and then sat quietly.

"Cryptic much?" I huffed. "Who were the dossiers on?"

This was going to be a long car ride if we played the game like this. The only thing I had on her was helping with offing her dad.

"You, me, your grandmother, Hank, Dwayne and two who I assume are your parents."

"Assuming is dangerous…" Why in hell was Angela looking at my parent's dossiers?

"Annie and John McGee?"

I was silent. Those were my parent's names. Annie and John—the beautiful Annie and the handsome John. My dead parents.

Hank took my hand in his and squeezed. My emotions were riotous where my parents were concerned. Ever since I had learned their death had not been an accident it was hard to think about them without getting a feeling of panic. Granny had kept the truth from me and I honestly wished she hadn't.

"Okay," I said softly. "Go back to the feral Wolves being housed and trained by the Dragons. What else do you know about them?"

I needed to move on and get focused on what was going to be in front of me in the very near future.

"Are Annie and John your parents?" Dima asked.

I nodded and leveled her with a stare. She met it and gave me a small sad smile of condolence.

"Feral Wolves?" I reminded her, not wanting her sympathy.

I didn't know what to do with her sympathy because I didn't even know what to do with my own feelings about my parents.

"I don't know much about the Wolves directly," she said in a business-like tone. "I've lived on the fringes of my people for quite some time now so I could stay alive. That's neither here nor there," she said with a sigh I felt deep in my gut. "The Dragons often take over failed projects of other species… for money."

"Keep going," Hank said through clenched teeth.

"I'm guessing the Wolves were an experiment from within your own circles that went wrong," she said with a shrug.

"We did this to our own people?" I hissed. "We prohibited their shift back to human and left them stuck as animals? What kind of horrific
experiment
is that?"

"Can’t answer," Dima said. "Sounds like it might have been a punishment of sorts. There are about thirty feral wolves under my father's rule."

I mulled the information over and tried to stop myself from shredding the interior of the car. I was furious anyone could be so vile and inhumane. What the hell was wrong with people—my people?

"Were," I corrected her. "There are now twenty-three."

"Oh my God," Dima whispered. "You killed feral Wolves?"

"Um… yes. It was them or us at the time. I'm getting married in a few months and in no mood to die." I turned to Hank and made a momentous decision. "This clusterhump has given me the confidence to tell your mom I'm not wearing her poofy wedding dress."

"Really?" he asked, abject fear clearly written on his gorgeous face.

"Well, um… maybe not," I whispered.

The car was quiet as we all pondered if it was worth it to die over a wedding dress. A large part of me felt it was very worth it.

"Is it really heinous?" Dima asked with a half suppressed grin.

"From what I understand it's huge with a train and poofy sleeves," I said as I bent over in pain thinking about it.

"I'm so sorry," Dima said. "I hurt for you."

"Thank you. I plan to beat the shit out of whoever takes a picture of me in the dress."

"Could you stage a separate set of pictures with just you and Hank in a different dress?" she suggested.

"Like how?" I asked, intrigued.

"It's risky, especially if you want to display it. You'll have to remember to remove the picture any time Hank's mother is going to visit," Dima recommended.

"Sounds dangerous," Hank said with a shudder. "And potentially bloody or life ending."

"He's right," I said dejectedly. "She'll remove body parts if I don't wear the damn thing. It's all Dwayne's fault. He'll be in some fabulous bridesmaid gown while I'll be the billowy, inflated white poofy thing from hell."

"Dwayne's a guy, right?" Dima asked, a little confused.

"Yes. Drag queen," I explained. "He's my man of honor and really wants to wear a dress."

"Make him wear Hank's mom's dress," she suggested.

The car went silent. My eyes grew wide and I almost screamed with joy.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," I babbled and punched Hank in the shoulder. "Your mom likes Dwayne way better than she likes me… maybe she would be thrilled for Dwayne to wear her gown."

"Essie, I am so staying out of this," he said with a healthy fear of all women in his eyes.

"Probably smart," Dima chimed in. "Do you think she would go for it?"

"If Dwayne suggested it she would. She thinks he's the Second Coming," I said.

"Jesus Hesus number two?" Dima inquired with a silly grin.

"Yes," I said with a laugh. "Definitely Jesus Hesus number two."

With a hearty high five and a fit of giggles, Dima and I sat back in relief. Her being truly concerned that I didn't look like the Pillsbury Dough girl on my wedding day made me like her even more. It would be a challenge to get Dwayne to wear the fugly dress, but he loved me and I planned to beg… and beg… and beg… and beg.

"Are we there yet?" I asked an amused Hank.

"Are you serious?" he shot back with a raised brow.