by H. D. Gordon
Remy pointed down the beach to where a man was stumbling to his feet under the moonlight, looking around as if he didn’t know where he was. I nodded, relieved to see that he was all right.
Remy and I stood in silence a moment, regarding each other. When it became apparent that there was nothing else to say, I told him good night and began to head back up the beach. I’d surely been gone too long, and I didn’t want Sam and the others to worry.
“Where are you going?” Remy asked, jogging up beside me.
“I’m supposed to be on vacation. There are people waiting for me.”
“Oh… All right, then. Let’s go.”
“Um.”
“Um, what?” Remy said. “I’ve just thought of a way you can repay me for saving your life.”
I paused, casting him a sideways glance. “Choose your next words carefully, Night Rider.”
Remy laughed. “She’s feisty! I like it, but I’m also a gentleman, so give me a little credit. What I was thinking is that we could team up and you could help me catch a bad guy.”
You promised, nagged that little voice in my head. What happened the last time you broke your promise? That’s right, you almost drowned!
Against my better judgment, I asked, “What’d you have in mind?”
The grin that lit up his face was contagious. “There’s a serial killer on the loose in Seaside and the neighboring towns. I could use your help. You in?”
I looked up at the night sky, where the stars hung over the water and the moon reflected silver. “Okay, I’ll help… but you can fly, right?”
Remy nodded. “Yes, tiger, I can fly.”
I grinned and held out my arms, and without a word, Remy hugged me to him and shot up vertically toward the stars.
CHAPTER 5
My clothes had dried by the time we landed on the deck of the beach house, and my breath was coming in excited little gasps.
“Again!” I shouted as we touched down, and Remy laughed heartily at this.
“It must be difficult,” he said.
“What?”
“Being Fae and not having wings.”
I swallowed, my mood plummeting at this observation. “Uh, yeah. It kind of sucks.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’re badass anyway. Took down that Blue Beast like a boss.”
“And who is this?” asked Raven as she slid open the door that let onto the deck and took in Remy from head-to-toe.
“This is Remy,” I said. “Remy, this is Raven.”
I didn’t need to be able to read auras to see that the two of them had each other’s immediate and full attention. Remy stepped forward with all the confidence of a rock star, took Raven’s hand into his, and kissed the back of it.
“Raven the Beautiful,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I watched like a third wheel as Raven’s aura responded with flashes of hot pink.
“Remy the Handsome,” she replied with a small purse of her full red lips. She flicked some of her long black hair off her shoulder and the two of them stared at each other like Romeo and Juliet.
“Cool,” I said. “So before you two very attractive people start making out, I’m going inside to tell Sam and Matt I’m back.”
Raven flicked her wrist at me, shooing me away, and I slid through the glass door that led into the beach house to find Sam and Matt in the living room.
“Oh,” Sam said, looking up from the book she’d been reading while curled up on the couch. “There you are. I was starting to get—Wait, why is your hair damp? And why are you just wearing a sports bra?”
I laughed because I’d been so eager to escape Remy and Raven’s unexpected love fest and hadn’t considered how odd I’d look walking in like this.
“I jumped into the ocean to save a guy, almost drowned, and met another superhero,” I said, plopping down in the armchair beside her.
Sam’s mouth fell open while Matt looked up from his own reading material. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Seriously, and he asked for my help with a case.”
Sam was sitting up straighter now. She folded her book shut and placed it on the coffee table. “But you promised no crime-fighting,” she said.
Matt held up a hand. “What a second? Who is this other superhero? Who did you meet? Is he here?”
Sam rolled her eyes at this. “Matt, your fanboy is showing.”
Matt ignored this, already over by the window and peering out onto the patio. “Who is he?”
“He’s the Night Rider,” I said, hoping belatedly that Remy would not mind my sharing of this information. I trusted Sam and Matt wholeheartedly, but that hadn’t really been my secret to tell.
“Holy cannoli!” Matt exclaimed, and he was sliding open the patio door and stepping out to greet Remy before anything else could be said.
“What kind of case?” Sam asked. “It’s about that serial killer, isn’t it?”
I grinned at her, knowing that she wasn’t pleased with this turn of events and trying to lighten the mood. “You’re one smart cookie, Samantha Shy.”
She sighed and stood, pushing her glasses up her nose and moving toward the patio doors. “I guess I should’ve known we couldn’t make it three whole days. Since we began this little crusade, it’s like trouble knows our names.”
I placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Dude, seriously, say the word and I’ll tell him I can’t help. He’s the friggin’ Night Rider. I’m sure he can handle this without the Maiden’s help. I promised you three days, and I’ll keep my promise.”
I could see the indecision playing in her aura, but at last, Sam shook her head. “No,” she sighed. “If he asked for your help it’s because he needs it.” She grabbed her iPad from the end table and began clicking through it. “Also, whoever is killing these women needs to be stopped. He’s a bad apple.”
She handed me the iPad, and I read the headline Seaside Surgeon Leaves Another Body.
“He’s killed five women in the past six months,” Sam said. “Bodies have been washing up in the bay. He dismembers them first. His cuts are so clean that the police started calling him the Surgeon.” She shivered. “The way he does it—it’s so precise. He must really take his time.”
I skimmed over the article and looked back up at my best friend. “You knew about this guy, and you planned a vacation here anyway?”
Sam smiled a little sheepishly. “In all honesty, the foremost reason I planned our trip here was because this awesome beach house was renting for dirt cheap. Besides, your apartment is in a more dangerous area than Seaside, even with a murderer on the loose.”
“But you knew there was a chance of encountering this?” I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer.
Sam shrugged. “Did I foresee you jumping into the ocean to save a guy and instead being saved by the Night Rider, who you’d then immediately reveal your secret identity to and in turn be asked to join the hunt for the Seaside Surgeon? No. No, I did not.”
I slung my arm around my best friend’s shoulder and ushered her outside with the others. “This whole crime-fighting thing is catching, isn’t it?”
Sam smirked at me from behind the thick lenses of her glasses. “You forget, Aria Fae, I’m the one who got us into this whole mess in the first place. You may be the girl behind the mask, but I’m the girl behind the girl in the mask.”
I laughed, sliding the door shut after us and placing a quick kiss on Sam’s cheek. “You’re one crafty little genius, Sam Shy.”
“Crafty enough to catch the Seaside Surgeon?” asked Remy, who held out his hand to Sam while simultaneously being stared at like a famous painting by Matt.
Sam took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “I guess we’ll see,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Night Rider.”
Remy flashed his handsome grin. “The pleasure is all mine apparent crew member of the Masked Maiden’s,” he said, and spread his hands. “Since we all seem to know each other’s secrets, you guys up fo
r helping me catch a killer?”
Raven sidled up beside him. “I’ll follow you anywhere,” she said.
Sam made a gagging gesture that only I saw, and I suppressed a chuckle. “You’ve got our attention,” I told him. “How can we help?”
Remy looked at me, pulling his eyes from Raven with what seemed considerable effort. “Actually, I was thinking maybe you wouldn’t mind being bait, since this guy only takes women, and because the Masked Maiden can surely handle herself against a lowly human.”
“First of all,” Sam said, “there are two ‘lowly humans’ right here, so don’t be so rude. Second, Aria is not bait. If anything, use Raven as bait. Less people will care if something happens to her.”
“Now who’s being rude?” Raven mumbled.
“Why are you sure the Surgeon is human?” Matt asked.
Remy’s head tilted as he considered this. “Actually, I’m not. Not entirely.”
Sam tossed up her hands and shook her head. “Find someone else to be your bait, buddy.”
I shrugged. “I don’t really have a problem with it,” I said.
Laughing without humor, Sam grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the sliding door that led inside the beach house. “Excuse us,” she mumbled.
When Sam shut the door behind us, I spoke quickly to avoid the ‘mom-talk’ I was about to get.
“All of you will be watching my back, right? You’ll have a tracker on me, live video feed… What could go wrong?”
“Aria, the answer to that question at all times, without fail, is literally everything,” Sam argued.
I placed a hand on my friend’s shoulder and gave a small squeeze. “All the more reason to do this thing, no? Isn’t it sort of what we came here for?”
After a moment, Sam sighed heavily. “Damn you, Aria Fae.”
I grinned, and with that, we were off to catch a killer.
***
The plan was simple. Remy had been tracking the Surgeon since the beginning, studying the case alongside the detectives in the three separate shore side towns where the bodies of various local women had been turning up in the bay.
Based on his research, the Surgeon worked in a sort of pattern. The women he took were all auburn-haired, and between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. The last place all of them had been seen was one of three bars that served the seaside communities. The timeframe of disappearance was somewhere between midnight and two a.m.
Remy believed that the Surgeon would strike again either this evening or the next, and felt that he’d narrowed down the probability of a location to give us reasonable shot at catching our guy. I would go to this bar, exit it alone at the appropriate time, and see if my bait caught a fish. Or maybe shark was a more apt word. I’d seen some of the crime scene photos on Sam’s computer as she hacked the Bay County Police files and confirmed Remy’s details of the case.
“Where’d you get her?” Remy asked me, as we’d stood behind Sam watching as she worked her magic. “I could sure use someone with her skills. Make my job a hell of a lot easier.”
I raised a brow and folded my arms over my chest. “Get your own computer genius, Night Rider,” I said, “because this one is mine.”
“I can hear you buttwipes,” Sam said, her eyes never leaving the screen. Her fingers continued to tap away at the keys. “But she’s right, Night Rider. You’ll have to find your own ‘lowly human’ computer genius.”
A half smile pulled up Remy’s lips. “I’m going to regret that slip of the tongue for as long as I live, aren’t I?”
I laughed. “I would wager yes.”
After this little meeting, we headed out to the determined location, and then it was time for me to work my Fae persuasion on the doorman at the bar to get him to let an underage person into the establishment.
“In that dress, you shouldn’t need too much of your fairy voodoo,” Raven said, eyeing me as if direct credit for my appearance was due to her, and really, since she was the only one of us who had a party dress and makeup fit for a night out, I guess she was sort of right.
I tugged at the hem, trying to cover more of my thighs and failing, already wishing for my Vans or Converses despite only donning the high heels Raven lent me for about twenty minutes.
“I can’t fathom why you wear this stuff on purpose,” I replied. “My feet are already numb, and I could balance a beer on my boobies.”
This made Remy and Raven laugh, and though that had been the intent, I still felt highly out of my element all dolled up like this. Maybe it would have been better to have Raven as bait.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sam reminded me, her voice sounding in my ear over the communication device.
Sam and Matt were still at the beach house, watching through the live feed and tracking our every move. Remy, Raven, and I were sitting in Remy’s souped up El Camino.
Raven grinned, her red lips pulling up. “Well, those ‘boobies’ won’t be able to hold up beers forever,” she said, “so go get ‘em, tiger.”
With a deep breath, I pushed open the door of the Camino and hopped out, feeling nearly naked in the little black dress with the plunging neckline. The click of the agonizing four-inch heels on my feet followed me as I approached the front of Izzy’s, the pulsing music coming from inside pouring out to greet me.
It was a busy night, because it was the middle of summer and pleasantly warm. People with alcohol clouding their judgment stumbled from here to there, laughing raucously and heading off to more libations.
Izzy’s was overflowing with patrons, the two-story stone building backing right up to the bay and neighboring a little Italian joint that stayed open late to serve those tripping out of the bar next door. Beyond the wide wooden doors where two large bouncers waited to check I.D.s, multi-colored lights spilled out along with the music and sounds of a packed house.
My stomach twisted. Not only was this not my element, this was not even my periodic table.
I swallowed back this insecurity and approached the two beefy guys guarding the doors, resisting the urge to wrap my arms around myself when their eyes roamed over me.
“I. D.,” said the one with the dark sunglasses that I had to assume shielded his eyes from the harsh moonlight.
He held out his hand, but instead of placing identification into it, I took it into my own and gave a gentle squeeze.
“I’m old enough to come in,” I told him, using every bit of Fae persuasion I possessed. “I just forgot my I.D., but I’m obviously old enough.”
A tinge of guilt came over me as his face went slightly slack and confused. “You’re obviously old enough,” he repeated.
I nodded, smiling big and resisting the ever-present urge to turn away from this whole scene.
“Obviously,” I agreed.
The sensitive-eyed bouncer turned his large body to the side and waved an arm for me to pass. I slipped by, suppressing a sigh when the second doorman held up a hand. “Hold up,” he said, and turned toward the other guy. “Did she show I.D., Bernie?”
I placed a hand on his shoulder and repeated the persuasion process. “Obviously I’m old enough,” I said.
A pause. Then, “Right. Okay. Obviously.”
And, with that, I was in.
CHAPTER 6
It was never more abundantly clear to me that I would likely never be a “party girl” than it was as I entered the scene at Izzy’s. The feeling of claustrophobia was instant, the place packed to the point of brushing against people at the slightest movement. It took me ten minutes just to make my way over to the door that led to the deck, where the outside space was marginally less occupied.
Stepping out into the night air again felt like surfacing from some dark lake moments before lung capacity diminished. There was a bar out on the deck as well, but the music was a tad softer here and the smell of booze and body odor was not as strong. Now all there was to do was wait.
“I’m in,” I whispered, knowing Sam could hear me through the tiny communic
ation device tucked in the top of my dress between my pushed-up bosoms.
“Nice work,” Sam’s voice said through the piece in my ear.
While waiting, I studied the auras around me, trying to decide if any of them looked extra murder-y. Of course, this was not the easiest of tasks, as auras are as unique as snowflakes and as complex as decoding DNA.
Barely a minute passed before the first guy approached me. He was decent-looking with expensive shoes on his feet and too much gel in his hair. Also, he smelled of cologne and vodka. He sidled up to me with all the confidence of a king and a grin that was a touch too wolfish for my taste.
“Never seen you here before,” he said, leaning in so close that I had to rock back a little on my heels.
I nodded, the look on my face surely discouraging. “That’s because I’ve never been here before,” I answered.
“You don’t have a drink. Can I get you one?”
“Actually, I’m waiting for someone.”
It wasn’t a total lie. I was waiting for someone, that someone just happened to be a serial killer.
With this, he held up both hands and backed away, making me even more uncomfortable with the think-you’re-too-good-for-me look on his face.
Three more men approached me and were likewise declined before I pushed my way back inside and headed toward the ladies room. I checked my phone and saw that less than an hour had passed, and all I’d managed to do was stand awkwardly in a crowd of drunkards while fielding advancements from men who were too old for me.
I bit my lip as I thought about the fact that most of the men here were about Thomas’s age, 24-26, and how I’d never felt that he was too old for me.
This was not time for thoughts of Thomas Reid, however, so I refocused my attention while I waited in a line of scantily clad women for my chance to hit the head. Directly in front of me, and close enough to brush up against if I leaned forward on my toes a fraction, were two women of about 25, one a tall blond and the other a short redhead—the color dark enough to be considered auburn.
“That guy was such a creeper!” said the redhead, and she shivered a little, rubbing her hands up and down on her bare arms. “Did you see the way he was looking at me?”
