by Jenn Burke
His eyes popped open, super wide, and he frantically waved for me to enter. A bandage covered his throat, and there were tubes and wires everywhere. A machine beeped incessantly in the corner.
As I approached, he inclined the head of the bed, and then scribbled across a small white board on his lap. Right—no talking for Isk. I wondered if that was temporary or permanent. I also wondered if it would be rude to ask.
Iskander held up the white board. Are you okay?
“Am I okay?” I blinked at him in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Isk.”
He erased the words and wrote more. I’ve been worried. I didn’t know if they got you too.
“No, they didn’t get me.” I sat in the chair beside his bed. “Isk, this is my friend Evan Fournier.”
Iskander nodded at Evan, who remained standing but leaned against the foot of the bed, and turned his attention back to me. He tapped the white board.
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders at my apology and he nodded.
“How are you doing?”
With a grimace, he indicated the bandage around his throat.
“Well, yeah. Do they think you’ll be able to talk again?” So much for tact.
He held out his hand and angled it back and forth.
“Maybe, maybe not, huh. That sucks.”
Iskander shrugged. Then he pointed to his eyes and made an open gesture with his hand.
“But at least you’re alive,” I interpreted. Yeah, I guess that would put shit in perspective. “Do you remember anything?”
He gave me a quick nod and pulled up the white board again. Vampire.
Okay, I’d known that, but how did Iskander? And—shit, what were we going to do if he decided to tell everyone?
“But... Isk...” I coughed. “Vampires, uh—”
He pointed a finger at me and shook it back and forth. I got that message loud and clear. Shut up and no.
“I think he knows what he saw,” Evan whispered.
Iskander pointed at Evan, then tapped his finger on the whiteboard. I read the rest of his message.
Crazy but true. Bit me, then covered it up with a knife.
Well, shit. If he knew...he knew. It wasn’t my place to be the paranormal police or...whatever. “Can you describe him?” I asked.
Iskander erased his message and wrote some more. Big, over six feet. Broad shoulders. Blunt features, nose broken in the past. Brown hair, short. Mean looking.
That definitely sounded like the leader of the vampires who’d attacked us at Cyril’s, and it confirmed my memory of his voice matching the one on the phone. Shit. Okay. This was hitting me hard, even though I’d already suspected. But I didn’t want Iskander to be sucked into the paranormal world against his will like this. It wasn’t fair.
Iskander erased the white board again and wrote something else, something long. I waited patiently until he finished and held it up.
Investigated missing meeting. Video footage from front entrance. Matched face to name. Vampire = Frank Girard.
And now we had a name. Finally.
Trailed him. More I saw, more I remembered. He was damned focused on getting to you.
But I still didn’t know why. Or if Frank was working independently of Marcello and the unknown monster. My gut said he was working with somebody.
Didn’t know what he was until the attack. Thank you, btw. I remember you found me.
“Yeah, well. You’re my friend.”
For the first time since we entered the room, Iskander smiled. He erased the board and wrote, Happy to be your friend, Wes.
“Of course you know my name.”
Wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I didn’t.
“Fair enough. Did you find out why he wanted to get to me?”
Iskander rolled one shoulder—a small motion, like his nods.
Even though I suspected I already knew the answer, I asked, “Ever hear of the Crown of Osiris?”
Iskander’s eyes fell to half-mast as he considered the name, and then he shook his head. Sorry, he mouthed. His eyes started to droop, and I took that as our cue.
“Let me give you my new number,” I said, since Lexi had replaced my phone at some point while I was out of it. I entered it into Iskander’s cell and texted myself, so I’d have his. “I’m out of the business, by the way.”
His brows rose at that and he gave me an inquisitive look.
“It was time,” I said with a shrug. “But I want to keep in touch with you, okay? Text me.”
He nodded.
“Hang in there, buddy.”
He gave me a thumbs-up even as his eyes slid closed.
* * *
I waited until we got back out to the car before I called Hudson and put him on speakerphone.
“Rojas.”
“Frank Girard.”
Hudson paused. “No, you’re Wes Cooper.”
“Ha. No, that’s the name of our vampire.” I relayed what Iskander had shared, and then laid out the timeline as I understood it. “Frank the vampire kills Meredith and sees me in the otherplane. He does some research—”
“What, on the site Ghosts R Us?”
He had a point, but who the hell knew what was in the depths of the forums on the TechnoWitchWeb Lexi was constantly exploring? I could be mentioned. Maybe. Whatever. “He finds out about me, but only in vague terms, so he has to find a way to make contact.”
“Through Iskander.”
“Right.”
“But the memory wipe thing?”
“I don’t know.” I chewed on my lip for a second. “Vampire mojo?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“But you didn’t know vampires over a hundred could be mobile during daylight hours.”
“Point.”
“Could be magic, if Frank is working with the Timuritans,” Evan pointed out.
“A possibility,” I said, then continued with the timeline. “He gets a referral code from Iskander and contacts me with a stupid-ass, awkward email to hire me. I turn him down and phone Isk to find out what the hell. Iskander doesn’t remember the meeting, but because of my call, he starts digging into the mystery meeting and tracks down the guy. Something tips Frank off—who knows what—and he decides to ambush Iskander before he can meet with me and tell me...what?”
“His name?”
“Eh, maybe.” It didn’t feel quite right, like I was missing something, but most of the pieces fit.
Evan cut in, “I don’t understand his motivation. Why so intent on you, Wes?”
“Because he wanted something stolen.” I held Evan’s gaze for a second, and then turned my attention back to the phone. “Shit. They wanted me to steal the pieces of the crown.”
Hudson let out a whistle. “You know...that makes sense.”
“But I’m thinking our buddy Frank isn’t the one running the show,” I said.
Not with the mystery monster, with his overwhelming otherplane presence and his ability to reach through the planes. Someone with that much power wouldn’t be happy to play second fiddle to Frank. Besides, Frank’s actions so far struck me as more of a blunt object than a precision sort of machine. He was the mastermind’s tool, not the mastermind himself.
“Agreed,” Hudson said.
“Any luck with the shipping information or mugshots?”
“Shipping was a dead end—I confirmed that Meredith, Shawn, Cyril and Marcello all brought something in from overseas, but there was no other relevant information on the manifests. And if you’re confident in the ID of the vampire—”
“I trust Isk.”
“Then I’ll concentrate on interviewing Julia. She’s making time for me after a late dinner.”
“Have fun.”
“O
h yeah, it’ll be a blast.”
“Is that sarcasm I sense, Detective Rojas?”
“Wow. Your intuition is something else. I’m in awe.”
I chuckled. “Okay. Be careful. Love you.” I clicked off, smiling like a goof.
And froze.
Evan was grinning at me, his mouth stretched from ear to ear.
I stared at him in horror. “I didn’t.”
“Aw, yeah. You totally did.”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh fuck.” I folded forward and put my face in my hands.
Evan rubbed my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sure Hudson will understand that you didn’t mean to tell him you loved him.”
I sat up. “It was—was—habit!”
“Text that to him. Right now. I dare you.”
“Fuck off.”
“‘Sorry I said I loved you, Hud. I mean, I did. Back in the dark ages.’”
“You want to walk home?”
“‘And a habit I had thirty-three years ago took over my brain for an instant. But I want to clarify, I’m only after you for your hot bod. Sorry again.’”
I smacked Evan’s arm as he broke down laughing and made only a cursory effort to fend me off. “That’s not even true.”
“What, that you’re not after him only for his hot bod?”
“Stop saying hot bod. Please. I will pay you to erase that phrase from your vocabulary.” I blew out a breath. “And no, I’m not.”
“Oh, Wes,” Evan said with another laugh, this one smaller and gentler than the others. “As if we all don’t already know that.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I sort of expected to hear back from Hudson after his interview with Meredith’s ex, but when I didn’t get a call or a text, I wasn’t all that surprised. He was nothing if not focused, and hopefully she’d given him some good information to chase. I texted Lexi to fill her in on what we’d learned from Iskander—the Coles Notes version—but I didn’t get much of a response beyond “k” and “sounds good.” As usual, in-depth research had turned her into a distracto-bot. I hoped she would remember to sleep at some point—she had to go back to work tomorrow.
Evan and I were kind of in a holding pattern until Hudson and Lexi could add new information to our pile of facts. We spent the rest of the night watching a reality TV marathon and talking. I really liked the kid, and I hoped he was on an upswing of his depression. He certainly seemed energetic, which was promising, but I wondered if there was a paranormal doctor out there he could talk to. Would anti-depressants work on vampires?
Evan retired around three thirty. I stayed up, wanting to talk to Hudson as soon as he walked through the door. At some point, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, a sharp honk on the street outside woke me. I grimaced, rubbed my face, stretched—and froze.
What time was it?
A quick glance at my phone told me it was after eight, which was further supported by the strength of the morning sun. Had Hudson come in and not woken me? I made my way down the hall to the guest room and carefully opened the door. I was so caught up in the idea of crawling into bed with Hudson—cuddling up with him, enjoying his warm-but-not-too-warm body—that it took me a minute to realize what I was seeing.
The bed was empty.
My stomach did a weird jumpy thing and I backed out into the hall. Why would he have gone downstairs to Evan’s room? It made no sense—but that had to be what he’d done. Right?
Had to be.
I trotted down the stairs into the basement and keyed in the combination to get into the bedroom. Again, I opened the door slowly, and my breath hitched as my eyes swept over the lone occupant of the bed.
Only Evan. No Hudson.
I closed the door and leaned my forehead against it, trying to keep my breathing calm and steady. Freaking out wouldn’t help anyone. There had to be a logical, normal reason for Hudson not to be home yet. Maybe his investigation needed overtime. Or maybe he got caught in traffic. It wasn’t like he’d burst into flames at the first touch of the sun—it just made him ill and lethargic. So being out and about at this time of the morning wouldn’t be pleasant, but it wouldn’t be fatal.
Not immediately, anyway.
My brain needed to shut up.
I ran back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. The kitchen felt like it was spinning around me and I forced myself to breathe deeply. Evenly. Panicking wouldn’t help. I needed to be calm. I needed to push my worry, my fear, everything aside so I could do what I needed to do.
I called Hudson. It went straight to voice mail, so I left a message that probably wasn’t very coherent, before pulling myself together long enough to demand he call me back immediately. I hung up and waited a minute. Two minutes. Three.
Nothing. If his phone was off, he might not know I called right away. But there was no legitimate reason for his cell to be off—he had to be reachable at all times for work.
My worry ratcheted up higher.
Katrina Li. She was Hudson’s superior, so she’d know where he was, right? I went through the switchboard and couldn’t help flashing back to the last time I’d done so and heard Hudson’s wide smile in his voice as he greeted me with surprise.
“Li,” she answered on a yawn.
“Detective Li, this is Wes Cooper. Hudson’s friend? We met in the diner.”
Her voice immediately softened. “Oh hi. How are you?”
I inhaled none too steadily. “Um, not great. Would you happen to know if Hudson was held up this morning?”
“Held up?” Her tone lost some of its friendliness.
“He’s—he’s not home yet.” I bit my lip. “I know overtime is a thing, but with his allergy—”
“Shit, yeah. Let me put you on hold, okay? I just came on shift but I’ll ask around.”
Before I could respond, awful, soulless instrumental music tinkled across the line. Normally I’d put the phone on the counter and wait for the person to come back, but I couldn’t pull the device away from my ear. I couldn’t risk missing anything.
What if there had been an accident? Or—fuck—a shooting? Vampires weren’t immortal. What if—oh god. What if the vampire Hudson had been hunting down—Raver, Pike’s second in command—had come looking for him?
“Wes?” My head jerked up at Kat’s breathless voice. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“But—”
“I don’t have anything to share yet. Okay? As soon as I know something, I’ll call. I promise.”
Oh god. I was going to be sick. “Is he—”
“We’re not sure where he is, and that’s all I can say.” She made a noise similar to Hudson’s breathy don’t react can’t react grunt. “Let me give you my direct line.”
I grabbed an envelope from Hudson’s kitchen table and wrote it down with Det. Li above it.
“If he shows up at home, call me,” she ordered.
“If—” No, I refused to say if. “When you find him, please do the same.”
“Absolutely, Wes. It’ll happen.”
She disconnected and my knees gave out like my strings were cut. I slammed to the kitchen floor, but I barely felt the landing.
Hudson was missing. Missing. What if we never found him? What if he was...was gone? What was I going to do without him? When we’d broken up, I’d gotten over him—mostly. I’d moved on. But he’d been alive, whole, safe, or at least as safe as a cop could be. He’d been in the world.
If he wasn’t in the world anymore...
“Fuck. No. No, Wes, you’re not going there.” I held my phone in front of my face and stared at the black screen, trying to get my brain back online.
I could haunt him...
My body—my magic—put up hell no signs at the thought. I wasn’t ready to tap into that power a
gain yet, but I had to try, didn’t I?
I closed my eyes and breathed, trying to find that deeper place of magic. It always took concentration and determination to find it, but no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t access it this time. I let out a ragged breath and opened my eyes. My body trembled—exertion, fear, and despair, as I realized my most powerful ability was off the table. Maybe for good.
But... Lexi might have some ideas. She’d be at work—she had the day shift today. I considered calling the nurse’s desk to leave a message for her, but there wasn’t anything she could do. In the eyes of the hospital, Hudson was no one to Lexi—though they’d bonded when I was out of it. An emergency involving her best friend’s maybe-boyfriend would get her sympathy and nothing more. So there was no point calling her, but I could text. I pulled up the messaging app with shaking hands and typed out a message.
Need you to call me asap.
I sent the message before I realized it looked weird. I hadn’t used “U” for you. Good clue that all was not right with me.
I pushed myself to my feet and proceeded to do things. I made coffee. I made toast and had a bite before abandoning it for more coffee. I sat at the kitchen table and stared at my phone, willing it to ring.
Instead, something popped into existence about half a foot off the table and fell to the wooden surface with a muffled clatter.
I surged up and back, knocking my chair to the floor and almost tripping over it. And okay, yeah, I screamed. Because what the fuck? A bundle of—of whatever was not supposed to appear out of thin air and drop to someone’s kitchen table. My back was pressed against the counter as I watched the thing, waiting for it to move...but it sat there, an orange glob of fabric—
Wait.
Carefully, I edged forward. I dared to grab a fold of fabric between my thumb and forefinger and flipped it up to reveal what was inside before pulling my hand back. In case the thing attempted to bite me. Except...that inkling I had when I realized the object was mostly fabric was right. It wasn’t just any fabric. It was the shirt I’d wrapped the piece of the crown in. Which meant...
Losing some of my fear, I gently pulled back the shirt to reveal the crown. It still vibrated oddly between planes, as though there was an echo across the otherplane on the limits of my hearing. The compulsion to stare at it, to touch it, was still there. I covered it with the shirt again, shuddering.
