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

by Heather Graham

  Her eyes had closed again then, and he’d called 911, then sat by her, waiting. Soon he heard sirens, and in moments the medics were there.

  “She needs a transfusion—quickly,” Brodie told them.

  They were good at their jobs, and one of them was a vampire who opened his mind to Brodie.

  I’ll see that she gets blood, McKay. She’ll be okay.

  “I’m going to follow you guys,” he told them.

  He waited at the hospital. After forty-five minutes a doctor came out. “Miss Abelard is a lucky young woman. You found her in the nick of time. We’ve transfused her, and her condition is serious but stable.”

  “Is she conscious?” Brodie asked.

  “No, and I don’t expect she’ll come around for hours. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll have someone call you the moment she comes to,” the doctor promised.

  Brodie decided to read the man’s mind.

  It’s going to be days, at best, ’til that poor girl comes to.

  Brodie’s head ached; he was soaked, muddy and exhausted.

  “I’m calling for a uniformed officer to watch over her, and then I’m going to get some sleep, just as you suggested,” Brodie said. “I want to be informed the minute she wakes up.”

  He checked on Adam while he waited for the uniform to arrive, and he had better luck there. Adam was conscious, and the doctor told him he could have five minutes.

  The kid had a black eye and a bandaged head. He looked contrite and utterly dejected.

  “Who was it?” Brodie asked him.

  “Someone taller than me, that’s all I know. That girl—Penny—she got a call and nearly ran out of the place. That seemed weird to me, so I ran after her. I made it outside, I got hit and the next thing I remember, I’m here. I’m pretty sure it was a man who hit me, but that’s all I know. I’m sorry. I suck.”

  Brodie grimaced, shaking his head. “You’re all right, kid. But maybe you should stick to computers for a while.”

  “For the rest of my life,” Adam vowed.

  Brodie decided that he wanted someone watching Adam, too, and made another call. He waited until both uniformed officers arrived, and then he left, driving well over the limit to the Gryffald compound.

  Rhiannon must have been watching for him, because the gate swung open as he drove up. She was waiting for him in the driveway, and ran toward him the minute he parked. “Is she still...?”

  “Alive, yes,” he said. “But in a coma.”

  “Adam?”

  “Awake and aware, but he doesn’t know anything other than that his attacker was tall.”

  “I know who wasn’t involved,” Rhiannon said.

  “Who?”

  “Audrey. She was flirting with some guy at the bar the whole time. And Lena Ashbury was talking with Darius.”

  “What about Joe, Hunter and Kate?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No idea where they were. Which may not mean anything, but...”

  “It might mean everything.”

  “Oh, and you know who else was missing?” Rhiannon asked. “Bobby. You know—the security guy.”

  “Shapeshifter,” Brodie noted. “I get the feeling we’re being led in circles.”

  “Maybe. But we have to follow, don’t we? At least, I do.”

  “Rhiannon, I’m a cop and an Other. I have to solve this.”

  “We have to solve this. We.”

  He stroked her cheek gently. “We,” he agreed.

  She nodded, smiling at him sympathetically. “You look like hell. No insult intended.”

  “A shower would help a lot. May I?”

  “Of course. And how about some tea?”

  “So long as you lace it with whiskey.” He grinned.

  Twenty minutes later he collapsed on her bed. The tea had helped, the shower even more so. She lay by his side, just there, supportive. He felt so drained, so tired.

  She stroked his hair, then his cheek. He felt as if her energy was pouring into him, and he turned to her and smiled. “You can be a little more...energetic, if you want.”

  “You need to rest,” she told him.

  The scent of her seemed to invade his blood. The feel of her created life in limbs and loins. He pulled her to him. “Um, not so sure what I need right now is rest,” he said, his voice husky.

  She smiled, a beautiful slow smile that lit her eyes and seemed to brighten the night. The very air seemed alive with sensuality.

  She kissed his lips and drew her shirt over her head, baring the fullness and beauty of her breasts.

  “I’ll sleep...soon,” he whispered as he reached for her.

  In the end, it wasn’t really all that soon. But with her in his arms, when he slept, he slept deeply, and when he woke it was to find himself feeling fully restored.

  * * *

  Rhiannon managed to get out of running with her cousins, because Brodie needed to get to the hospital, and she wanted to be with him.

  He didn’t want Sailor and Barrie running around the Canyon alone, though, so he arranged for a couple of officers-in-training to go with them. Both women were more amused than upset. After the events of the previous night, it seemed no one wanted to take any chances.

  Rhiannon and Brodie visited Adam, who was still feeling down and looking forward to getting back to the safety of his computer.

  Penny Abelard was still unconscious, though the doctor on duty told them that he believed she would recover. Her vital signs were growing stronger, but he couldn’t predict when she would wake up.

  Brodie seemed uncharacteristically depressed, and it hurt Rhiannon to see him so down, but even the reminder that he’d saved Penny’s life didn’t seem to help. “Brodie, we’re close, so close, to figuring this thing out,” she said.

  “Joe Carrie, Kate Delaney and Hunter Jackson,” he said. “They’re my friends, Can it really be one of them?”

  “I think that has to be the answer,” she said. “I don’t understand, though—why? Joe’s a vampire, but this play, the film, the video game...they’re going to make him rich. And Hunter Jackson, he’s already famous and he’s only going to get more so. Kate Delaney...she’s human, like Jackson, but this play is going to open doors for her. And there’s Bobby, too. One of them must be involved, because they were all missing in action when Adam and Penny were attacked, and the circle always comes back to the theater and the play.”

  “Or the movie,” Brodie said.

  “Jerry Oglethorpe is convinced we can learn something tonight at the House of Illusion. Who the hell else is involved in this?”

  “It could be a trap,” Brodie pointed out. “Maybe I should go and the three of you should stay home. It’s as if your arrival, in particular, has been some kind of catalyst.”

  “The murders started before I took over,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, but your father’s...promotion was already in the works, and the bodies were pretty well hidden, as if the killer knew they wouldn’t resurface—literally—until your father was gone.”

  “A vampire is involved somehow, maybe more than one, but I don’t think a vampire is pulling the strings. We’ll find out something at the House of Illusion, Brodie. I know it.”

  “Then we’ll go early, for dinner,” he said. “But we have to be prepared for anything—including the possibility that you’re wrong and it really is a trap. Call Sailor and Barrie, tell them we want to get there by six.” He looked at her consideringly. “Three,” he said. “Why three? Why did the killer wait until each victim had seen the show three times?”

  Rhiannon shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “What about Jerry Oglethorpe?” he asked.

  “Jerry is a vampire, but he has nothing to do with the show. And the first magician who said we should go to the House of Illusion, the Count de Soir, is Elven, and he has nothing to do with the play, either. Getting back to vampires, though, the House of Illusion is where they meet, so maybe that’s the connection to tonight. Have you ever b
een through the entire mansion?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Brodie said. “I’ve been to shows there, but that’s it.”

  “There are bedrooms in the basement for guest performers to use. And the beds are all coffins. I know it’s a cliché, but a lot of vampires like that kind of thing.”

  “Interesting. We really need to be on the alert tonight, especially you, because I think the killer would like nothing better than to make you the next victim. Rhiannon—”

  “Oh, Brodie, I love that you want to protect us—protect me—but it’s our job to fight when there’s trouble among our charges. You know that. I have to face this.”

  He drew her close to him and he held her for a moment, then kissed her tenderly. “I know you do,” he said at last.

  “Everything was peaceful out here for so long. But now, when we—when I—have just arrived, all hell had to break loose.”

  “And that’s exactly why it did.”

  “And why we have to prove ourselves,” Rhiannon said.

  * * *

  At six o’clock, they arrived at the House of Illusion.

  Jerry Oglethorpe had reserved a prime table for them, right in front, and they had plenty of time to eat before the featured performance started. In the meantime, while the audience waited for the main act—the Count de Soir—a series of young magicians took the stage.

  Rhiannon watched them, but mostly she tried to keep track of everything that was going on off the stage. All the while she could sense Brodie’s tension as he, too, made a point of watching everything while trying to appear not to.

  As soon as he finished his meal he leaned over and whispered to her that he wanted to take the tour and see the basement bedrooms, then excused himself and went in search of Jerry Oglethorpe.

  Thirty minutes later he was back, but before he had a chance to share his thoughts with her, the Count de Soir took the stage.

  He performed some rather ordinary tricks at first, using scarves, rabbits and doves. But then he built up to a major routine, the music growing louder and a bevy of beautiful assistants gesturing dramatically as a huge glass case, something like the water tanks Houdini used to perform his amazing escapes, was wheeled onto the stage.

  “First,” the Count announced, “I will turn a beast into a beauty!”

  And then, with great fanfare, he introduced a large wolf to the stage.

  Jerry Oglethorpe, who was standing near their table, bent down to whisper, “Don’t worry, it’s real. Not a werewolf. Actually, it’s a hybrid. Most magicians use dog/wolf crosses. They’re not as volatile.”

  The Count de Soir continued with his act, ushering the wolf into the glass case before covering it with a red velvet drape and tapping his wand lightly on the top. When he pulled away the drape, one of his assistants was inside the case.

  “But that was child’s play,” he said. “Watch.” A second glass enclosure was wheeled on. “Beauty to beauty. In the blink of an eye, one beauty will become another. I will need a volunteer. You!”

  This time he was looking at Sailor and not Rhiannon.

  “Don’t go,” Rhiannon whispered. “He could be using us for some reason—baiting us.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Rhiannon?” Sailor said. “You helped with one of his tricks.”

  “That was different. Something is happening here tonight, and we can’t take any foolish risks.”

  “Rhiannon, the man hasn’t done anything at all to make us suspicious.”

  “It’s just that we have to be very careful. It’s dangerous to trust anyone we don’t really know. He’s just...an unknown entity.”

  “I’ll be careful, Rhiannon, so stop talking to me like I’m an idiot. Besides, he’s the one who suggested we come here. Maybe he’s afraid of something. Maybe he’s trying to help us.”

  Without creating a massive scene—and perhaps sacrificing their chance to learn the truth—Rhiannon couldn’t stop her, so she exchanged a worried look with Barrie, and then, with her heart in her throat, she watched her cousin go up onstage.

  The three of them were ready. As ready as they could be.

  Three!

  The number three had to mean something. There were three new Keepers in the Canyon because three had been called to the council.

  “I don’t like this,” she whispered to Brodie. “He’s got her onstage, where there are all those trapdoors that lead down to the basement.”

  “I’ll go down there, just in case,” he said, but he looked worried.

  “Before you go,” she said, “I just thought of something. You said the victims all saw the play three times. And there are three of us. Sailor, Barrie and me. Three new Keepers.”

  “Interesting,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “But now I have to get down there. You need to watch up here.” Jerry Oglethorpe was still standing nearby, and Brodie beckoned him over. “I’m going downstairs, Jerry. I just want to make sure nothing is going on down there, in case the count sends her down there as part of the switch.”

  “Whatever you want. But I’m sure Sailor will be all right. The Count de Soir is an Elven, after all.”

  “I know. Still...”

  Jerry nodded, and Rhiannon watched as Brodie left, then returned her attention to the stage. The Count de Soir was escorting one of his assistants into one of the glass enclosures and Sailor into the other.

  He did his bit with the draperies, waved his wand and pulled off the draperies.

  The two women had changed places.

  “And now...”

  Once again Count de Soir covered the cubicles, but this time, when he whipped off the drapes, there were wolves in both cases.

  Her heart pounding, Rhiannon jumped to her feet.

  Barrie caught her hand and pulled her back down. “Wait—let’s just see what he’s doing,” she advised.

  “He’s got Sailor in the basement,” Rhiannon said. “Anyone could be doing anything to her down there.”

  “Just hang on.”

  The drapes went over the cubicles. The wolves turned back into the two women.

  “See?” Barrie said smugly.

  Rhiannon saw, but something wasn’t right. She didn’t know what, and she didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

  The count thanked his beautiful volunteer as he let Sailor out of her glass box. She walked down the steps from the stage, but instead of returning to the table she started to walk out of the room.

  “What the hell is she doing?” Barrie asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “I don’t know—yes, I do!” Rhiannon exclaimed, staring at Barrie. “That isn’t Sailor! Come on.”

  By then “Sailor” was heading out the back door, toward the outdoor stage—and the sheer drop-off into the canyon below. Rhiannon, with Barrie close behind, raced after the shifter impersonating their cousin.

  Outside, Rhiannon burst into motion and grabbed the faux Sailor, who turned to face her, looking startled.

  “Rhiannon!” the shifter said in Sailor’s voice. “Why do you look so worried? I just needed some air. Come on, let’s walk.”

  “You’re not Sailor,” Rhiannon said. “And I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Sailor” stared at her, trying to wrench free and hissing. And then...

  In seconds Sailor became Bobby Conche.

  She dropped her hold, and Bobby Conche swung a fist right at her head. She ducked just in time.

  She vaguely registered Barrie catching up to them as she felt adrenaline pulsing through her and her teeth...becoming fangs. She leapt on Bobby, slamming him to the ground and baring her teeth, ready to rip his throat to shreds.

  “Rhiannon, stop!” Barrie said. “He has to tell us where Sailor is.”

  Bobby began to laugh. “The Count? He’s an innocent pawn. He’s busy congratulating himself on a great show. We rigged the set-up. It’s so easy to manipulate people.”

  Rhiannon struck him—hard. “Keep it up and I just might kill you. You’re a shifter, Bobby.
And a vampire bite is pure poison to an Other. So tell me where my cousin is.”

  He started to shift again, squirming beneath her, thrusting her aside.

  Barrie pounced on him, holding him firm as he changed from form to form, until finally he was Bobby again, staring up at them.

  “He’ll kill me! Don’t you understand? He’ll kill me!”

  “Who?” Rhiannon demanded. “Bobby, damn you, who? I can stop this, but you have to tell me—who?”

  * * *

  Brodie reached the basement just as the last of the young magicians was leaving. He raced toward the guest rooms—and their coffins.

  The first yielded nothing.

  The second was the same.

  He could feel time ticking away.

  He threw open the door to the third room and stopped, stunned. There was Sailor, lying motionless, eyes closed, in a coffin, arms crossed over her chest as if she were...dead.

  Three. Three new Keepers. Destroy them one by one, and in the process destroy the entire system they represented and the laws that governed an Otherworld society whose members possessed legendary strengths.

  “Sailor!” he shouted, and hurried toward her. She was breathing; she had a pulse.

  He heard the sound of clapping and turned.

  Three people stood in the doorway: Kate Delaney, Joe Carrie—and Hunter Jackson. Hunter and Kate were armed, their guns pointed at him.

  Joe kept applauding as he walked toward Brodie. “We’ve got you just where we want you—cop.” He practically spat the last word.

  “Where? In a basement?” Brodie demanded.

  “That’s right. In a basement—where no one will ever think to look for you. As you’ve noticed, we already have Sailor here. And we’ll have the other two within minutes. You were a bit of a fly in the ointment, Elven, but we have you now, ready to be packed into a magician’s box, transported down to the port and sent on a long ocean voyage.”

  Brodie crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the three of them. Kate? Human. He could take her with one swipe of his hand. Hunter Jackson? Human—he wouldn’t take much more. The guns might pose a bit more of a problem, but still, he could teleport.

  Joe Carrie...

  Vampire. Taking him out might require a little more effort.