Keeper of the Dawn tkl-4

by Heather Graham

  “There’s a girl still in the hospital who took some earlier today,” Brodie said.

  “And a kid in jail swearing that he thought they were just doing some new form of Ecstasy,” Mark said.

  “I can’t believe they’re selling it on the streets now.” Alessande felt cold. The idea of it becoming widely disseminated was really scary.

  “Alessande,” Brodie said slowly. “Can you...can you do anything about that?”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “The poor girl remains unconscious. The hospital is struggling, because they haven’t got the chemical breakdown of the drug, so they don’t know how to counter it. Could you come up with an antidote?”

  “I...I don’t know. I’ve never tried to make one. Transymil’s always been kept among Others, and they usually make it back all right from a trip,” she said.

  “But you could try, right?” Mark asked.

  She nodded. “I’d have to get to my house, though.”

  “Tomorrow,” Brodie said.

  “I have an audition tomorrow,” she said. Mark was staring at her. “We have to follow the screenplay. I know it’s important. I can feel it in my gut.”

  “Right after the audition,” Mark said firmly.

  “All right,” she agreed.

  They drove up to the sweeping entrance of the Snake Pit. A tall, striking leprechaun named Barney came right over to the car, but he was more than a valet, Alessande knew. He was Declan’s eyes and ears, as well.

  “Declan just went in. He got here ahead of you, with Sailor and Rhiannon Gryffald,” the leprechaun said.

  “Thanks, Barney.” Brodie tossed him the keys. “Can you keep the car where—”

  “You have easy access,” Barney said gravely. “Yes, I’ll put you at the end of the row.”

  “Great. I have keyless entry, so just throw the keys under the passenger’s seat, will you?”

  Barney nodded. They exited the car and headed for the door, where Mark abruptly turned away. “I’ll take the street,” he told Brodie.

  “I’ll get Rhiannon and keep her with me. Whoever’s selling the stuff, he’s going after men who have women with them.”

  Mark looked at Alessande skeptically. “She can come with me.”

  “I’m not she. You know my name,” Alessande said.

  “Sorry,” Mark said, clearly aggravated. “She is better than that vampire cop, though.”

  Brodie laughed suddenly. “You two go on. Anyone watching will definitely think you need help if you’re trying to get into bed with Alessande.”

  “Let’s head out, shall we?” Alessande asked. She started down the sidewalk without waiting to see if Mark was following her.

  A moment later she felt his hand on her shoulder and turned around. He dusted her off, as if there had been something there.

  “What was that for?” she asked him.

  “Just trying to knock off the chip,” he said.

  “Shall I return the favor?”

  He didn’t reply, only walked silently at her side.

  There was so much tension between them, she wanted to apologize; she didn’t know why he made her so defensive all the time. This was probably her fault. He’d thought he’d saved her life, and he saw that as his job, because he was a cop. But she... She had been hostile, because he seemed to think that she was...

  Incompetent.

  She stopped and turned and looked at him. She managed a smile. “I guess I’d better at least walk with you. I have to make it look like there’s some hope, right?”

  He grinned and slid an arm around her shoulders. The warmth, the weight of it, felt good.

  “We’re turning the corner, and once we do...we’ll be in a far shadier part of the city.”

  “Los Angeles is that way, isn’t it?” Alessande said. “Multimillion-dollar mansions just down the block from crack houses.”

  He nodded. “The dream—and then the fulfillment of the dream. Or not.”

  It was so true. The Snake Pit was splendor personified, but now, right around the corner, they saw those who spent their hours on doorsteps and leaning against buildings. Some had cigarettes they barely managed to smoke; some were drinking alcohol out of containers hidden by brown paper bags.

  There were a few lit storefronts, and people who were making a legitimate living at something were buying groceries, their children holding tightly to their hands.

  “Down one more street—and then we need to argue about where we are,” Mark said.

  “Okay,” Alessande agreed.

  They turned the corner; the road sloped downward, echoing the trend in the lives of those who lived there.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous!” Alessande said, pulling away from his hold. “You don’t have the faintest idea where we are. We’re lost!”

  “I am not lost,” Mark protested. “I’m just getting my bearings.”

  “Well, get them quickly. You promised me dinner—a good dinner—and then a movie. Not a walk down a dark and...” She paused to look around and lowered her voice. “A dark and dangerous street.”

  “Hey, you two need some help?”

  She spun around. A man was approaching them from the rear. He was in jeans and a T-shirt that advertised a heavy-metal band. He looked fairly decent, except that his jeans hadn’t seen the inside of a washer for a long time. Alessande tried to catch his eyes as he approached them.

  Perfect targets.

  That was all she got, and then he looked at Mark.

  Mark towered above the man. “We’re fine,” he said sharply.

  “We’re lost,” Alessande said at the same time.

  “Well, not to worry. I can get you back to Sunset, and you should be fine after that,” the man said. “But...”

  “But what?” Mark asked him.

  “But...how did you manage to get yourselves here anyway? This area isn’t safe—not for someone who looks like her.”

  Alessande made a move toward Mark, who put his arm around her protectively.

  “Sweet. You two are a couple, right?” the man asked.

  “Who are you?” Mark asked sharply.

  “They call me Digger around here. I’m always digging for a way to make a living, you know?”

  “Um, nice to meet you, Digger,” Alessande said.

  “The pleasure is mine. So what were you doing in this area anyway? Were you by any chance looking for someone?” Digger said. “Or something?”

  “There’s a guy who was supposed to set me up,” Mark admitted.

  “Yeah, I figured. Well, who?”

  “I don’t know. He called himself Chameleon,” Mark said.

  “I don’t know this Chameleon, but maybe I could set you up.”

  “What have you got?” Mark asked.

  “Honey...” Alessande said nervously.

  “Don’t worry,” Digger said. “I promise you, I’ll give you good stuff. I make my living on return customers.”

  “He could be a cop,” Alessande whispered to Mark, but loud enough for Digger to hear.

  “Lady, do I look like a cop?” Digger demanded.

  “No, and that’s why you could be one.”

  “What do you have?” Mark asked.

  “All the usual stuff...”

  “We don’t want the usual,” Mark said. “We’re looking for something different.”

  “Well, I got a little pill I guarantee you’ve never had before.” Digger inclined his head toward Alessande, giving Mark a conspiratorial wink. “It could melt the polar ice caps.”

  “I’ll take two,” Mark said.

  “You just need one, but it never hurts to be ready for next time. And when you find out that you’ve gotten the next best thing to heaven, you know where to find me.”

  “Where do you get these from anyway?” Mark asked.

  “Oh, no, buddy. You don’t get my source.”

  “All right, that’s fair,” Mark said.

  Digger quoted a price, Mark came up with the money, a
nd Digger gave him the pills. “Excuse me, folks. I’ll be leaving now, just in case cops are hanging out around here. Have fun!”

  He took off down the street, then turned to watch them from behind the corner of a building.

  Mark pulled her close and pretended to slip a pill into her mouth.

  But the feel of his fingers as he’d looked into her eyes had been hypnotizing....

  Of course. He’s a vampire. Vampires use their eyes to...

  The brush of his fingers was followed by that of his lips. She was startled; she hadn’t expected him to take things so far.

  And then there was the feel of his lips. A pressure that was confident and seductive, tinged with the sweetness of liquid fire....

  She returned the kiss, accepting the warmth of his mouth, the sweep of his tongue. A heat seemed to grow in her, and she moved her fingers deftly through his hair.

  They were acting, of course. This was Hollywood. Everything was an act.

  And yet...

  And yet she knew that she was really and truly—and possibly dangerously—attracted to him. She hadn’t let herself become involved with anyone in forever, but now she didn’t want to end the kiss or lose the feel of him, the pressure of his body, the strength of his hands...ever.

  His mouth lifted just an inch from hers. “All right, we’re good. We need to walk back toward the Snake Pit, convince him we’re gone.”

  “And then?” she asked. She looked into his eyes, which were a beautiful shade of gold, and then at his lips, which still seemed to whisper against her mouth and render her limbs weak and...

  And hungry.

  “Then we let him go tonight. We analyze the pill. You create the antidote.”

  He still held her. He hadn’t moved. His fingers slowly caressed her cheek.

  Acting.

  “But Digger will get away. We won’t get to his source.”

  “Digger has to trust us,” he whispered. “Then we’ll be able to find his source.”

  “Regina is still out there.”

  “I know—but we have to be patient and get the information we need.”

  “They could kill her anytime. She could be—”

  “She’s not dead. We will find her,” he vowed. “Now lean against me. Pretend you’re growing weak.”

  That was easy enough to do. She stumbled, and not on purpose.

  “Perfect,” he said softly.

  And it was. She leaned against him and suddenly began to wonder about the heat that radiated from him.

  He was a vampire....

  He should be cold.

  Instead he burned with a fire that could all too easily consume her.

  Chapter 6

  The Snake Pit was hopping. By the time Mark and Alessande returned, the others had taken a booth upstairs in the elegant room where snowy-white linen dressed the tables, the food was superbly prepared and the drinks were served in crystal.

  Rhiannon was already on stage, singing a soft ballad. She acknowledged them with a nod as they entered.

  Mark had his hand on Alessande’s back as they neared the booth. It was the kind of polite gesture any man might offer, and she seemed to take it as such. Her calm amazed him. He still felt as if he were twitching inside. Apparently their kiss—which he had initiated just to see how far she was willing to go to play their dangerous game—had disturbed him far more than it had her.

  Far more than he had ever expected.

  The woman’s an Elven, he told himself. What did you think you would feel?

  Not this.

  He’d known Elven all his life. They were exceptionally charismatic, the men handsome, the women beautiful. And Alessande was the epitome of Elven beauty: slender and fit, yet somehow voluptuous, as well. The feel of her in his arms was like a siren call.

  That was it, nothing more. He’d thought to throw her off balance. Well, tables turned. He should have known!

  His hostility toward her came from the moment when they had first met. She’d been angry, convinced she had had everything under control and that he’d ruined her grand plan.

  On top of it all, he couldn’t shake the strange daydream he’d experienced right before he had met her. If he closed his eyes now, he could still hear the music, see the beauty of the church arrayed for a wedding...see the river of blood that ran down the aisle.

  He could still see the crystalline beauty of her eyes, could still feel her body pressed to his, as if she had left an indelible impression on his flesh.

  “Well?” Brodie asked, breaking into Mark’s thoughts.

  “Success,” Mark said, sliding into the rich velvet-upholstered booth next to Alessande. “Any news here?”

  “Declan is working the crowd—easy for him to do, since he owns the place,” Mick told him. Like Barrie, Mick was a reporter. He was great at ferreting out whatever was going on beneath the surface in a city that offered magic along with the normal underhanded deals, scandal—and murder.

  Mark noticed that Barrie wasn’t with them, but before he could ask about her absence, Alessande spoke up.

  “Where’s Barrie?”

  “Interviewing Katrina Manville,” Mick said.

  “Why was she so interested in interviewing a costume designer tonight?” Alessande asked.

  “Because she’s doing costumes for Death in the Bowery,” Mick said.

  “Oh!” Alessande said. “I didn’t know.”

  “We didn’t, either—until Declan said something just a moment ago,” Sailor told them.

  Alessande suddenly turned to him. She was close enough that her shoulder brushed his. “Let’s dance,” she said.

  Mark looked at her with surprise. He felt a slight smile curve his lips. “You’re asking me to dance?”

  “I want to hear what Barrie’s saying,” she said. “And they’re sitting right beside the dance floor.”

  Barrie would report anything she learned, he knew, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to hold Alessande in his arms.

  Fool, he told himself.

  He led her out to the dance floor. Rhiannon had been joined by a couple backup musicians, and they were playing something that he was pretty sure was a rumba. Luckily he had learned the steps years ago on a trip to Miami.

  He danced Alessande over toward the two women. Thankfully, like most Others, his hearing was acute—and so was Alessande’s. They didn’t have to be right on top of Barrie to hear her conversation.

  As they swept by, he noticed that Katrina was tall. Just not quite as tall as Alessande. Her hair was blond...though not quite the spun blond of Alessande’s. And her eyes were blue, too. Though not quite the same clear blue-green of Alessande’s, a color that could make a man think of endless days spent floating between the heavens and the seas....

  Stop! he commanded himself. Honestly, he was going to make himself vomit if he didn’t curtail his ridiculous mooning over her. He forced himself to listen to what Katrina was saying.

  “They’re re-creating 1880s New York and the Five Points district. The costuming will be late Victorian, and range from extremely elegant to the rags worn by those who were just scratching to stay alive. In those days... Well, you really couldn’t blame a young woman coming from the gutters if she was willing to sleep her way up in society.”

  “How did you become involved in this particular project? Did you already know the screenwriter?”

  “No, I only met Greg Swayze recently. I was hooked up by a friend.”

  “Who?”

  Katrina sipped from a crystal champagne glass. “Brigitte Hildegard. Her brother’s production company had considered bidding on it, but it was too pricey for them. She loved the screenplay, though, and thought it needed the best.”

  As they whirled away, Alessande looked at Mark with her eyes sizzling. “See?” she said.

  “Barrie would have shared that information with us.”

  She ignored that and said, “I knew it. There’s something going on with the movie!”

  “Ale
ssande,” he murmured.

  She looked at him with a question in her eyes.

  He smiled. “I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said.

  She actually smiled back at him. “I don’t really want a role in it, you know.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  He was startled when she rose up slightly on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Please, don’t worry about me. I am Elven. And I’m destined to be a Keeper of shapeshifters—somewhere, sometime. Mick and Declan have both told me that my progress in dealing with my powers is amazing. I’m begging you, have some faith in me.”

  The music ended. For a moment they stood on the dance floor, just looking at one another. Then Declan came by and tapped him on the shoulder. “We’re going to call it a night. The Hildegards don’t seem to be coming out tonight and Barrie says she’s gotten some interesting information about—”

  “We know. We heard,” Mark said.

  “And tomorrow—” Declan began.

  “There’s a lot to do,” Mark finished.

  It still took them a few minutes to leave. Declan had to say his goodbyes to the staff and leave the place in the capable hands of his manager, a werewolf named Gregor.

  But soon enough they were on their way out the door. And even then, Mark discovered, he couldn’t keep his hands off Alessande. He touched her arm to guide her, the small of her back just to let her know he was there.

  It was all right, he told himself. He was simply behaving the way any polite escort would.

  Except, of course, any escort wouldn’t be imagining the perfection of the woman as she lay naked, eyes alight, on a bed of silk, waiting for him....

  He gave himself a shake.

  And when they reached the House of the Rising Sun, he told himself that he was grateful when she went to Castle House, while he was a guest at Pandora’s Box.

  He told himself—but he didn’t believe it.

  * * *

  She was dreaming again.

  Except this time, the dream was erotic. So erotic that she could feel herself blush in her sleep.

  And if a dream could have such a thing, it had foreplay.

  She wasn’t sure where she was. The room had a massive bed with blood red silk sheets. There were open doors that led to a balcony, and a breeze drifted in. Sheer white curtains fluttered in that breeze, and she felt the cooling air against the fire of her skin.