by Cat Adams
I sighed and turned the key in the ignition to start the car to a quiet purr. “A girl from the school—you probably remember her as the younger sister of the girl who blew the horn with me at the rift—has a painful bruise on her arm.” I paused. “She’s eight, Rizzoli.”
“Oh, hell.” His voice sounded pained. “Take her in. I’ll bring your car and meet you at the hospital.”
“It’s okay?” It brightened my mood immensely. I was surprised just how nervous I’d been.
“Yeah, it’s been defused. There was a rather nasty little spell attached to your ignition. It would have made you really aggressive … the bomb squad actually went to blows like an NHL Stanley Cup game.”
All the better to have me picked up and put away forever. Or worse, staked on the spot. I frowned and felt the bruise on my forehead twinge. It reminded me of my own Stanley Cup bout. “Oh, and before I forget … the witch was at the bar I just left, down on Eighteenth. Just now. I got a good look at her face and I recognize her, Rizzoli. I have no idea why she would be involved, but it’s the new owner of MagnaChem. G. Linda Thompson. She’s been trying to hire me as a bodyguard for over a week now. I’ve been refusing, but someone called me yesterday and told me to take the job, so I looked her up. She seriously put the hurt on me today with some powerful magic. I’ve got bruises from head to foot from flying pool balls, bottles, and cues.”
“Bruises that … wait. Hell. I’ll call you right back—” He hung up so abruptly I thought the connection had dropped.
I was halfway to the hospital when the phone rang again. It was Rizzoli and he sounded angry, horrified, and relieved. “I just got off the phone with my wife. Mikey told her about a bruise on his hip yesterday. She mentioned it in passing at dinner last night. Today it’s bigger and it hurts. She’s on her way to the ER with him right now. I gave her Dr. Gaetano’s number.” He paused. “Thank you. Without you telling me about that—” He paused again and didn’t finish. After a deep breath he changed the subject. “It’s probably too late, but I have a couple of people going down to the bar you just left to see if we can do a magical trace. I’m going to need to get tested. I’ve hugged and kissed the kid. So has my wife.”
Oh. He heard the first part and panicked. Which was good. But … “Did you hear the second part of what I said?”
“The witch was there. Right. Got it.”
“And the witch is G. Linda Thompson. Owner of MagnaChem? Did you catch that part?”
Now there was a long pause. “Thompson? You mean Jamisyn.”
My brows furrowed. “No, Thompson. She bought stock in MagnaChem when her dad died and then took over controlling interest. I read an article in the New York Post online.”
Rizzoli’s voice was patient. “And Linda Thompson married one Richard Jamisyn last fall. Does that name ring a bell?”
R. Jamisyn. “So that’s the connection! But why would the millionaire owner of a drug company marry a security guard?”
The deep male laugh on the phone startled me a little. “Normally, I’d say you’re too cynical and anyone can fall in love with anyone. But in this case, I’m starting to think it was because he was the right person at the right location. The person with the ‘in’ at the schools. Officer Jamisyn had a side career as a security guard trainer during the summer. He had a very interesting list of cities on his itinerary this past year.”
I’ll bet they included Denver, Chicago, and L.A. Hell. Nice to have the resources of the FBI to search a person’s past. “But why would a drug company want to blow up bombs in schools?”
The answer he gave chilled my blood. “They have the patent on the antibiotic. How many doses do you imagine will be ordered by the nation’s school system once this comes to a head?”
Holy evil plot, Batman. “So now what? I still need to call Julie’s folks and wait with her at the hospital. Well, Julie’s mother, anyway.” Mick Murphy was in Arkansas, wrapping up the old life that Vicki’s millions had changed forever. A vision had compelled her to leave part of her fortune to a total stranger. But it wound up being for a good reason. Her foresight had managed to give us the tools to close the demonic rift. Molly had moved the girls into Gran’s old house so Beverly could be close to the ocean and get training on the Isle of Serenity.
There was another pause. “Right now you sit tight and stay with the girl. We’re about to try to turn the MagnaChem corporate jet around in midair before it reaches Brazilian sovereign airspace. We just found out she boarded the jet and took off without clearance.”
I blew out a slow breath. I hoped he found her and brought her back. The scared little girl in the seat next to me deserved answers.
And justice.
18
I was still looking for a place to park when the radio announcer came on with a “special bulletin.” They announced that there appeared to be an unconfirmed case of M. necrose right here in Santa Maria de Luna. Not only did they use the actual name of the condition, they even had a sound bite with the bartender.
Crap, crap, crap. Were they trying to start a panic?
I pulled into the nearest parking spot and sprinted for the emergency room. If the bartender gave the press names, and he would, they’d be descending on Molly right here in the ER, which was just exactly what she didn’t need.
I found her in one of the smaller ER waiting areas, sitting on one of those hard, plastic chairs. The girls ran to their mother and Molly began rocking Julie in her lap. Her eyes were dry, but haunted, and I would swear she didn’t see any of the people milling around her.
I went up to the reception desk and tried to explain my problem. She didn’t swear … but she wanted to. “Come on. There’s an empty room just outside the isolation area. She can wait in there. I’ll have a tech take samples and let Dr. Gaetano know where to find her.”
So while Molly and the girls hid in a quiet room with a single bed, I went to move the bikes from Rizzoli’s car to Molly’s. I came back upstairs and heard the nearly silent sobbing before I saw Molly Murphy’s face. There was such warmth there, in the cold, quiet, sterile place. The remote for the television sat on one of those rolling tables that fit over the bed, but we didn’t turn on the set. Neither of us wanted to see the news.
Brad of the blue scrubs came in moments later, looking grim. It was one thing to banter with a half-vampire woman who had seen weird stuff. It was another thing entirely to see the bruise on a little girl and know what it meant. He was very nice and kind and I appreciated it.
It took a while for the doctor to get back to us. Not long really, according to the clock. It felt like hours … even days. Julie dozed in her mother’s lap while Beverly paced like a caged animal. I perched on a straight-backed chair covered in cold vinyl.
When the doctor finally did come in, it was Thomas Gaetano, wearing blue scrubs, his hair still damp from a recent shower. His professional demeanor didn’t waver, but I could tell he was weary, and worried.
“We have a positive culture.”
Molly’s body reacted as if to a physical blow. But she was tough. Her voice was steady, her eyes dry, as she asked the inevitable. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture of frustration. “It shouldn’t have grown enough to identify that fast. We’ll start her on the antibiotic, and we’ll need samples from you and your other daughter. In the meantime, we need more tests. I’ll speed up the check-in process for her and she’ll have a roommate from her same school.”
My heart sank. “Who?”
Gaetano looked sad, and angry. “A little first grader named Willow. She’s pretty and very sweet.”
“Do whatever you have to do to make her well.” Molly spoke softly. She petted Julie’s hair and her lip quivered. Beverly watched her mother with growing concern even though she was old enough to know there was nothing she could do. She stood in the corner with thin arms wrapped around her body. I went to her and put an arm around her. She didn’t hug me
, but I think it helped.
Gaetano noticed the interaction between the four of us. “We’ll do our best.”
“I know you will.”
There wasn’t much else he could say to her, and she wasn’t asking questions—probably didn’t even know what questions to ask. I didn’t want to alarm her. There was no way I was going to describe what had happened to Principal Sanchez. No doubt she’d met the woman recently. I followed Gaetano into the hallway.
“How bad is it?”
“I won’t lie to you. It’s bad. And she doesn’t have vampire and siren healing abilities. Willow is worse still. I normally wouldn’t put them together, but I’m afraid I’m going to run out of beds really quickly. The Atlanta office is trying to have the affected areas stay isolated, so other hospitals will refer suspected people here. It’s going to get busy fast.”
“Can you have someone do for her antibiotics what Bruno did for mine?”
He shook his head sadly. “We were only able to do that for you because of your special nature. Julie’s not strong enough to survive it.”
Damn. “So, what do we do?”
“I get to work. You wait. And pray.”
Before he went back to work, though, he gave me a quick once-over. I was still fine. No pain, at the moment, not even the headache. Although it had been so busy I hadn’t had a chance to think about it. He was pleased, but asked me to stay in touch with him for the next few days. In the meantime he’d be keeping my mom, Julie, Willow, and Rizzoli’s son, Mikey, in the isolation ward until he was confident that the vaccine was working. Bruno was apparently on his way to spend the night in the same ward. As far as anyone could tell, I had been Bruno’s only contact with the disease, so if he checked positive, it was a bad thing. Gaetano had left word for John, but thus far he hadn’t gotten a call back.
Dr. Gaetano also scheduled a time for me to come to the hospital’s lab on Wednesday to see if I’d be a good subject to pull antibodies from since they’d started to develop. I hadn’t been really thrilled with that idea, what with the siren and vampire blood. But if it became an issue of life and death for a bunch of kids … well, we’d have to see. Plus, I had no doubt Dr. Sloan would be fascinated with my blood tests.
Talking to Dr. Gaetano had reawakened my worries about John. Where was he? I went outside, turned on the cell phone, and dialed for messages. There was only one. It was from Rizzoli.
It didn’t take long for the team to figure out that one of the guards from Birchwoods had wired your car. Once we realized he’s threatened you before, we got a warrant to check out his place. We found all the ingredients for the aggression spell and a suitcase filled with unmarked bills, so I think we’ve got our hit man. He’s in custody and he’s already confessed he was hired by a witch to get you out of the way. I can get him on a charge of attempted murder of a federal contractor. The threat of life in a federal pen should loosen his tongue even more. We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some dinner and sleep. You’re probably going to need it. —Dom
So, it really was Gerry. Damn. I’d hoped he could get past irrational hate. But I suppose not. As for rest, I couldn’t disagree. But food first, because sunset was quickening my heart even more and making me want to pace … to hunt. The shield around the buildings radiated with magic I normally shouldn’t be able to see. The people in the building, behind the magic, glowed and pulsed, revealing the energy in their veins I craved. Crap. Even my headache wasn’t stopping my muscles from bunching up every time someone quickened their pace a little. The ER had affected me in ways I hadn’t expected.
I needed to get something to eat pretty damned fast if I had any hope of getting any sleep tonight.
19
My eyes opened in the early dawn, heart pounding with leg muscles twitching like I’d been running. I couldn’t remember being out of bed, but when I moved my legs under the covers, I felt sand on sheets I’d just changed that morning. It was frightening to have no memory of where I’d been or what I’d been doing. Once again I checked for blood. There was none, but I couldn’t remember whether I ate dinner before bed. Either I’d cleaned up the dishes or I hadn’t. But I felt full.
I shivered and huddled in a chair in the corner until it was light. Safety came with the sun.
It felt strange, planning normal things when so much of life was not normal. But I needed something to take my mind off of everything, and I’ve found that good old-fashioned exercise can help a lot. A jog was out of the question. I wasn’t sure what I would find out in the sand. This was something we could do inside the beach house. And I really had promised Dawna.
I looked from Dawna to the woman pushing a laden two-wheel dolly into my living room. Alex was petite and pretty. Normally she dressed very professionally. Today, in honor of our activity she was in worn sweats, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
“Thanks for doing this, Alex. I was afraid after that scene in the parking garage…”
She snorted. “That was just for show. One of your ‘buddies’ got a promotion. He’s my direct superior now. He’s been making my life hell.”
Ouch. “Sorry.”
“Not your problem. He’s an ass. But I wanted you to know it was a bad idea to come to the station, and you really did need to see Rizzoli.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Hey, Dawna.” Alex turned to the woman lounging on my couch. “Explain to me again why I’m doing this on my one day off for the past two weeks?”
“Boy,” I said while moving the couch and carpet to the side to give her more room to unload her cargo. “Your schedule sucks worse than mine. You need a better union rep.”
The dirty look she gave me said she was well aware of that. “You’ll need to clear out a bigger space.”
I raised my brows appreciatively and tugged at the couch to pull it farther away from the open space I’d cleared. I closed the drapes so I could take off the sunglasses. “You managed to get the deluxe dummy? Not just the piece of crap from the police storage basement?”
“Turns out I’m three hours short of required staking practice for this quarter. My lieutenant handed me the dolly personally. Hope you don’t mind if I log in my own time on it while I’m here … seeing as this is a big favor.” She untucked the padded mat from behind the dummy and rolled it out on my floor. “Nasty burn in the hardwood. Most people start campfires on the beach.”
At first I thought she was serious, but then I saw a tiny grin. I smiled in response because I knew she remembered just where the burn came from. “Tell that to Bruno. ‘Oh, it’s just a little chalk circle. No big deal.’ Sheesh. Mages and their spells.”
I rolled my eyes and she chuckled before she spoke. “C’mon. Give me a hand with the ballistic gel. It’s hard to get into the slots.”
I joined her at the dolly and lifted up the hunk of amber ballistic gel while she steadied the red plastic mannequin. The squishy cylinder was wobbly like Jell-O, but thicker and more dense. It was developed to mimic flesh for testing weapons involved in crimes, but the cops figured out it worked well for practicing driving stakes into flesh. I whispered to Alex when Dawna went to the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Dawna’s really going to appreciate this. She needs to start feeling more confident when she’s alone.”
Alex braced herself against the dummy while I shoved the gel into the round slots and pushed until it was firmly against the solid back of the dummy. “So you said in your voice mail. Is there a bat problem in her neighborhood? Should I get a squad out there?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know. It sounds like it might be specific against her—she survived when the master vampire who’d bitten her died. Apparently, some of the other bats seem to think it should have been the other way around. She thinks they might be targeting her.”
Alex nodded. “Reason enough to at least have some basic training and I’ll probably call it in just to be safe. Never hurts to be careful. Bats aren’t very careful about making sure they get the right target the first time,
so it’s not just her in danger.”
The staking dummy was loaded and braced, so all that was left was attaching the spelled computer chip. While Alex opened the padded box it was housed in, I tried to ask something casually. “So … about my voice mail. Anything on the other question?” I’d asked her when I called about the dummy if she could check to see if John had showed up on any police reports—good or bad.
She flicked her gaze up for a second. “Sort of. I found three people named John Creede in the Greater L.A. area. John Colton, John Henry, and Jonathan Thomas. Which one is missing?”
The problem was, I didn’t know. “Um. Good question. It’s the John who’s half of Miller and Creede. I don’t know his middle name.”
She looked up at me. “Really. So, John Colton Creede, then. Hmph. Wouldn’t have figured that.”
That made me frown. “Wouldn’t have figured what?”
A tiny snort that might have been a laugh, combined with an eye roll, was all she’d give me for a long moment. “Please. But there’s nothing. I checked out hospitals, morgues, and radio chatter for all three names. There’s no mention of anything involving him. What makes you think he’s missing?”
“No. Explain first. Please what?”
She rose easily to her feet from a crossed-leg position and attached the computer sensor to where a face would be on the mannequin. “Must we really go there?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my head. “Yeah. I guess we must.”
Alex sighed and stopped what she was doing to turn and mimic my stance. “Fine. John Colton Creede is the millionaire owner of a multinational company that provides protective services for everyone from movie stars to heads of state.” I nodded and she continued. “He’s a level-eight mage who personally protected a diplomatic envoy in the Middle East back in ’08, holding out alone against more than a dozen terrorist mages and witches for better than two days.” Okay, that was news to me, but it sounded like something he’d do. “He’s known to hop in a plane for jaunts to Monte Carlo or to sail down to Mexico for a weekend.” Wow. Didn’t know that at all. “He’s also well known for being late to meetings.” Well, yeah. “But—” She raised a finger significantly. “When he misses two meetings and a phone call in one day, what happens? His staff, his P.A., and even his family don’t call the police in Los Angeles, where he’s known to live—I checked. No. You call me.” She smiled and the calm intensity in her eyes sort of unnerved me. “Sort of odd, don’t you think? Frankly, Celia, if I didn’t know you better, I’d probably be casually searching this house right now while asking to use the restroom. More often than not, it’s the murderer who contacts the police first to establish innocence. And reporting it in an odd location is even more fishy.”
