Keeper of the Night (The Keepers: L.A.)

by Heather Graham

  “Merlin!” Brodie was startled by Rhiannon’s sharp tone as he turned to look up the stairs. She’d been true to her word. Less than ten minutes had gone by, and she was transformed. Her hair looked like pure floating fire, and she had donned a short, sleek blue dress and matching high heels with lacy ribbons that tied around her ankles and drew attention to her long legs. The effect was truly wicked in the sexiest possible way.

  “Hello, my dear. I was just introducing myself to your young gentleman here,” he told her.

  “He knows I’m a cop,” Brodie said.

  “And an Elven,” Merlin added, looking at Rhiannon. His tone indicated that as far as he was concerned, Elven meant beware.

  Rhiannon’s attitude had shifted to one of amusement. She walked over to the ghost, and Brodie almost laughed at the way she seemed to take the older man by his nonexistent shoulders and bend to give him a kiss on the cheek. In her heels she was over six feet, and Merlin...wasn’t.

  “Thanks for worrying about me, Merlin. We’re heading out to the Snake Pit to see if we can pick up any information—and so I can see where I’ll be working,” Rhiannon said.

  “Just be careful,” Merlin said. He turned and studied Brodie again. “Vampires...they’re cagey, and they’re powerful. If your killer really is a vampire...”

  Brodie smiled. “Elven aren’t weaklings, you know.”

  Merlin nodded. “All right, then. My dear,” he said to Rhiannon, “my apologies, but I feel it’s my duty to your dear parents to look out for your welfare.”

  Rhiannon smiled. “You’re a sweetheart, Merlin. But you don’t need to worry when you see Brodie in the future, okay?”

  Merlin nodded, though he still looked doubtful. “I’ll be returning to the main house,” he told her. “But remember, I’m very close, if you ever need me.”

  “Thank you, Merlin,” she said with a smile.

  Brodie kept an eye on the ghost as he led Rhiannon to his car. When Merlin rounded the pool, he seemed to vanish into thin air.

  “You did say you wanted to meet him,” Rhiannon reminded him.

  “Yes, my first ghost,” he told her as he opened the passenger door for her. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he added, “Actually, it’s good that you have a watchdog.”

  “I suppose. Though, come to think of it, I’ve always wanted a real dog. Something huge, like a Saint Bernard.”

  “Scottish deerhound,” Brodie suggested. “Or a good old German shepherd would be good, too. They make great guard dogs. They aren’t vicious, but they’re loyal, and they know who belongs and who doesn’t. And—”

  “And like all dogs, they have extra senses that we don’t have,” Rhiannon said.

  No, he thought, because neither of us is a werewolf. Then again...compared to the human population, he did have extra powers. And once Rhiannon had enough experience that she could take on some of the abilities of her charges, she would have extra senses, too.

  He realized that he was afraid she wouldn’t know in time when she needed to use all her innate abilities. He didn’t have the right to dictate to her, he thought. And yet...

  This situation had given him the feeling, even if he didn’t have the right.

  “Now that I know I’m going to be living here, I think I will look for a dog,” she said.

  He nodded. “I don’t have a pet. I keep lousy hours. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  She smiled. “When I get my pup, you can borrow him. How’s that?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said, trying to speak lightly. He felt a catch in his throat. This was getting ridiculous. It was one thing to feel a strong sexual attraction. He was what he was—and she was a stunning woman. It was even all right to feel a little protective, whether she felt it was an insult or not. It was quite another to feel things that went beyond that.

  A few minutes later he pulled off the freeway and was pleased to pull right up to the valet.

  The attendant was one of the extremely tall leprechauns living in the L.A. area. The doorman was a shapeshifter. It was only natural that Declan Wainwright would employ so many of the city’s Others.

  As the valet took the car, Brodie stepped onto the sidewalk, where Rhiannon was waiting. He thought again that she looked absolutely breathtaking, and he wondered how the hell he had gone so quickly from finding her an annoying interruption in the functioning of his beloved city to seeing her as an exotic and nearly irresistible beauty.

  She smiled; he took her arm. He felt magic in the air—unbelievable for an Elven who spent his days—and nights—dealing with the seamiest sides of the world, human and Other.

  And then the moment was completely blown as a flash went off.

  He turned to see Jake Reynolds, one of the paparazzi—and a gnome—snapping pictures from behind one of the ivied trellises that protected the front of the Snake Pit and added to its air of exclusivity.

  Damn it! Jake knew exactly who and what he was.

  He swore softly beneath his breath, ready to rip into Jake. Rhiannon set a calming hand on his arm.

  “Let me,” she told him softly.

  He watched as she hurried over to the photographer. By then a small crowd was watching with interest. But, to her credit, Rhiannon seemed to be completely in control, smiling and laughing with Jake. But when she returned, she didn’t have the photographer’s memory card or camera.

  “That damn gnome is going to blow my cover,” Brodie told her.

  She shook her head. “Smile over at the gnome. He’s going to use your stage name. He wants a picture, so let him have one. He’ll list Mac Brodie and Rhiannon Gryffald under the shot and sell it on the web. Everything’s fine, and it will be great PR for the show.”

  “I don’t trust gnomes,” he said.

  “We don’t have a choice—unless you want to cause the kind of scene that will definitely create the wrong kind of publicity, not to mention give you away,” she said.

  “I still think he’s going to out me as a cop,” Brodie said, and he knew that his voice sounded like a growl.

  “What if he does? All you have to do is say that you’ve always wanted to be an actor but didn’t want to resign from the department.” She touched his cheek as she spoke, and her fingers felt like silk against his skin.

  Control yourself, he thought. He needed to get over her. Maybe he should sleep with the oversexed Ms. Audrey Fleur and get this out of his system.

  “I’m all right,” he said. He bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin. “I’m smiling at the gnome. See?”

  “Good.” She gave the gnome a beautiful smile of her own, waved and then they went on into the club.

  Declan himself met them at the door.

  “Welcome,” he said, taking Rhiannon’s hands and kissing her cheek. “I saw what happened,” he said, and looked at Brodie. “Do you want me to do something about him?”

  “No! I already told Brodie not to strong-arm him. That would only cause a bigger problem,” Rhiannon said.

  Declan grinned. “I wasn’t going to strong-arm anyone. I was going to shift into cop form and demand he hand over his memory card.”

  “No need,” she said. “I asked him to post it using Brodie’s stage name, so it will only help with what he’s trying is to do.”

  Declan nodded and looked at Brodie. “Some of the other cast members are already here. Do you want to join them?”

  “Maybe later. I think we should make a point of being alone,” Brodie said. “As if we’re out for a romantic evening.”

  “Gotcha,” Declan said, grinning, as they entered the club. “By the way, Rhiannon, you’re going to be appearing in the Midnight Room. Shall I show you as soon as you’re inside?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said.

  “Brodie,” Declan told him, “your friends are in the Velvet Lounge. Tell Humphrey I said to give you a VIP table in the back.”

  “Thanks,” Brodie said. He kept Rhiannon’s arm through his as they made their entry into the club. As soon as t
hey had been noticed, he made a point of caressing her cheek, feeling her eyes burn across his skin as he touched her. Then, looking for all the world like reluctant lovers, they parted.

  He watched for a moment as Declan escorted Rhiannon up the stairs to show her the Midnight Room, which was only open on the weekends. He imagined he was going to be spending a lot of time at the Snake Pit now—so long as Rhiannon kept playing there.

  She might be a Keeper, with the potential to take on the abilities of her vampire charges. But she was still human—with all the weaknesses that went with that.

  Brodie approached the Velvet Lounge and found Humphrey, one of Declan’s werewolf maître d’s, at the door. He was a big guy, the kind that brooked no trouble. He greeted Brodie with a smile, listened as Brodie repeated Declan’s words and then led him to a table in the back.

  Everything was velvet and silk at the Snake Pit. The back tables were like intimate tents, surrounded by velvet curtains that could be drawn back for a view of the entertainment or pulled closed for privacy.

  Brodie sat. Several tables away, toward a magician who was performing the usual hat tricks, he could see Hunter Jackson sipping champagne and enjoying the company of Audrey Fleur and Kate Delaney. Both women were beautifully dressed and didn’t seem to mind sharing his attention. Bobby Conche was with them, sitting back and enjoying a drink, clearly enjoying the reflected glory that came with sharing a table with the cast. Strange, Brodie thought. In essence, shapeshifters were actors, capable of taking on any role. But this shapeshifter didn’t want to be anyone else—he just wanted to be around those who did.

  At another table he saw Darius Simonides, accompanied by Sailor Gryffald. She seemed to be in seventh heaven. Of course, she wanted to act, and Darius was a major player.

  A moment later Rhiannon returned and slid onto the chair next to him. She noticed her cousin, and she didn’t seem happy. “I can’t believe Sailor’s here with him again. I know he’s her godfather, but...”

  “He is giving her a part in a major movie,” Brodie offered.

  “And I still don’t trust him,” she said.

  “He’s one of yours,” he said, then leaned forward and spoke softly. “Let’s keep an open mind and look at tonight as a fact-finding mission. We could be going in the wrong direction entirely, thinking everything’s connected to the play. Maybe you’ll know more after the council meeting tomorrow night.”

  She nodded but looked unhappy. Before he could say more, a waitress came by. Elven. She was tall, striking and sensual.

  “May I take your order?” she asked sweetly.

  “Rhiannon?” he asked.

  “Do you carry Harp?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. What about you, sir?” the waitress asked Brodie.

  “The same, thanks.”

  As soon as their waitress left, Rhiannon rose.

  “Where are you going?” he asked her.

  “I can’t just pretend that I don’t see them,” she said. “That would be rude.”

  “Rhiannon, we’re observing—” he began.

  But she was already gone. He rose quickly to follow her. She headed first to the table where Hunter Jackson was holding court, sweeping over as if she were just saying hello, and she played the scene perfectly, stopping to speak for just a moment, then moving on. Then she moved on to the table where her cousin was sitting. Brodie noted the way Jackson’s eyes followed her.

  And he saw that Audrey noticed, too.

  Darius rose when Rhiannon reached the table, and they traded air kisses. Sailor rose, too, and gave her a hug, but she didn’t look happy to see Rhiannon.

  He decided to join them. Sailor stared at him in surprise, and then looked from him to her cousin. “So you two really are a couple.”

  “Would you like to sit down?” Darius asked.

  Brodie suddenly regretted joining them. He had only met the man that one time at his office, when he’d invited himself along with Jackson and Declan, supposedly to talk about the filming but really because he wanted to meet everyone who had any connection to the show. He’d been Mac Brodie, actor, then. He hoped Sailor knew only his cover story, or that, if she knew the truth, she would remember that he was undercover. She should. She was the Elven Keeper, so she must have some sense.

  “For a moment, sure, thanks,” Brodie said, sliding in by Sailor.

  “Out with your godfather—how nice,” Rhiannon told Sailor.

  “We were having a lovely discussion about my future,” Sailor said. “It was all about me,” she said with a rueful laugh.

  Rhiannon grinned at that. “I came to see where I was going to be working.”

  “You know, Rhiannon, there might be a place for you when we record the soundtrack,” Darius said.

  “That would be great—especially if it pays well,” Rhiannon said.

  Darius laughed. “Honesty. I like that in women. How about you...Mr. Brodie? How do you feel about not being asked to be in the film?”

  Sailor turned to him. “Seriously, Mr. Brodie, how do you feel about knowing someone else will play your role on the big screen?” She sounded genuinely curious. Maybe she’d forgotten what he did for a living, or maybe she really didn’t know.

  “I’m just happy to be working,” he told her. “I don’t have any problem with not being in the movie. Hunter Jackson won’t be in it, either, and the whole project is his baby. Even the writer is stepping aside. He has consultation on the script, but that’s it.”

  Sailor lowered her voice. “I feel a little awkward. I’m going to be playing Audrey Fleur’s role in the movie, and I’m not sure she feels the way you do. We stopped by to say hello, and she was outright rude to me.”

  “This is Hollywood. People should be happy for whatever they get,” Brodie said.

  “But most of us aspire to be stars,” Sailor said. “And I’m sure she was hoping this would be her big break.”

  “Sailor, are you worried about her?” Rhiannon asked.

  “You may not believe this, but I honestly hate to hurt anyone,” Sailor said.

  “You’re perfect for this role, Sailor,” Darius said. “Stage and screen are different, and you shine on film. Besides, it was Hunter’s plan from the start to do it this way. Lord, if I had to take a bullet for every unhappy actor in Hollywood, I’d be so riddled with holes there would be nothing left.”

  “And now, a volunteer from our audience, please,” the magician called out, drawing their attention away from their conversation.

  Hands went up all through the room. Audrey was waving wildly, but the magician ignored her and walked into the audience saying, “Sometimes the best volunteers are those who must be coerced onstage.”

  He was coming straight for them, announcing, “Tonight my good friend Declan Wainwright has given me permission to invite you all to visit the House of Illusion, where my fellow illusionists and I practice real magic. If you come on Sunday night, I promise you’ll see the show of a lifetime.”

  When he stopped at their table, Brodie knew immediately that the tall, white-haired man was Elven. “I do hope you’ll join us on Sunday night,” he said directly to Brodie, who realized he’d seen the man at council meetings, though he didn’t even know his name.

  “My dear, you would make a wonderful assistant,” the magician said.

  He stretched out a hand, and Brodie thought he was reaching for Sailor, seeing as she was the new Elven Keeper.

  But he wasn’t offering his hand to Sailor. He was offering it to Rhiannon, who looked as if she wanted to crawl beneath the table.

  “My dear?” the magician said. She stood reluctantly, accepting his hand, and they walked to the stage. “Now all I need you to do is lie down in this box...and then I’ll cut you in half,” he said.

  Brodie had to stop himself from jumping to his feet and rushing to her side.

  Sailor was clearly unhappy, too. “What’s he doing?” she whispered. “I don’t see why—”

  “Just kidding!” the magician
said. “If you would just enter this glass dome...and then, when you hear a question, I swear you’ll know the answer.”

  He opened the door to the glass dome, and Rhiannon entered.

  “Beautiful, beautiful!” the magician said, then started soliciting questions from the audience and deferring to Rhiannon to provide the answers.

  At the beginning, all the answers were amusing. One girl asked if she would find her true love, and the answer was, “Many times.” That question segued into one from a pretty girl who asked if she would marry her boyfriend, and once again the answer was, “Many times.” Then a young man asked if the pilot he had just shot would make it as a series. The response was, “Not this one, but it will lead to a movie role.”

  The next few questions all concerned Hollywood and the movies. And then a young guy asked, “Will I find my friend Jordan?”

  The answer was, “He has already been found.”

  The man’s gasp was frightening. He started walking toward the stage, his hand at his throat and his expression so intense that Humphrey the werewolf started toward him.

  “Where? Where is he?” the man asked desperately. “I have to find him, I told him not to beat his head against the wall, but he loved that show, so he kept on trying...”

  He didn’t get any further, because Humphrey caught up to him. The magician seemed to realize that his session had veered from entertaining to all-too-real, and he helped Rhiannon from the answer box and asked that the audience give her a big hand.

  As soon as he saw that Rhiannon was safely off the stage, Brodie hurried after the young man—then being escorted out by Humphrey.

  He caught the two of them just outside the room. “Humphrey, may I?” he asked.

  The werewolf shrugged. Brodie took the young man’s arm and led him toward the door. “Who are you looking for? How long has he been missing?”

  Miserably, the man looked at Brodie. “Jordan Bellow. We’ve been together since high school. He’s an actor. A good actor. We’re from San Francisco, and he came down here to audition for some vampire play. He left me a message about some kind of a tour, but he didn’t say anything specific, and now he’s not answering emails and his cell goes straight to voice mail. I don’t know where to look or what to do.”