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fine.
    "We have a delicious roast beef with —"
    "Then bring me that," Cedric said before she could recite every item on the menu.
    When she hurried away to do his bidding, he put away the report and pulled a small, worn book from his pocket.
    The smell of graphite and musty paper scratched his nose as he opened the book. The decade since the book came to be in his possession had almost made the crooked handwriting fade, but Cedric knew nearly every page by heart and could still read the words. He carried the little book with him on every assignment as a silent reminder of how dangerous humans could be and as a memorial of his duty.
    He thumbed through the book, searching for the most interesting entries.
    All of them held meaning. They recorded the dreams and visions of a dream seer.
    Past generations of maharsi had never been allowed to write down their dreams. The dangers of having such a dream diary detected by humans were too great, as was the risk of the dreams being misinterpreted by Wrasa who weren't as skilled at dream interpretation as a maharsi.
    But then one line of dream seers after the other had become extinct until just one last maharsi had been left — Cullen Remick, Griffin's grandfather. When none of his grandchildren had inherited his gift, he had known that his death would leave his people without guidance. He had started to write down his dreams, hoping to at least give them something to help them understand and shape the future. Only half a dozen copies of his diaries existed. They had been handed out to council members and a few selected high-ranking officers of the Saru. The rest remained in possession of Cullen's family.
    Not this diary. This one belonged solely to Cedric. Except for the author who had penned these entries, no one but Cedric had ever held the book in his hands. He planned on keeping it that way.
    When the flight attendant returned with his roast beef, he turned the diary upside down on his knees until she was gone. Hunger raged through his stomach as the scent of the meat hit his nose. He wolfed down the first two bites without really chewing or tasting it, then slowed down and read the entry he had chosen.
     
She's dangerous. A lethal danger, not just to me. To all of us. Her kind doesn't have the respect for life that we do. It's up to me to stop her and to warn my people of others like her. I'm the only one in a position to do it. Others don't seem to see this danger and probably never will until it's too late. It's up to me. This is what I was meant to do, why I was born with the skills I possess. This is my duty. My fate.
     
    Cedric bared his teeth. How ironic. The lines fit his current situation perfectly as if the dream seer had talked about J.W. Price and him. He couldn't be sure yet, but if the writer really was the threat he thought she might be, it was his duty and his fate to stop her too.
    When the pilot announced they would be reaching Los Angeles soon, he put the diary back into the inside pocket of his jacket, right over his heart.
    *  *  *
     
    Allison DeLuca whirled her desk chair around and jumped up.
    Dizziness threatened, and it had nothing to do with the speed of her movements. The walls of her small apartment seemed to close in on her. Her skin itched with the urge to shift, to leave the apartment and everything in it behind, and to lose herself in the simpler existence of being a wolf. Things were so much easier when she was running with the pack in her animal form. If she shifted, she wouldn't just strip off her human skin but also the guilt and betrayal that were now weighing her down. Wolves didn't evaluate their actions by human standards and morality. In animal form, things were clear and simple: her loyalty was to her pack, and she had done what was necessary to ensure the survival of their species. In human form, things were not so black-and-white.
    With a sigh, she sat back down at the desk. Wishful thinking. Running away wouldn't solve the