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

by Alexandra Sokoloff

  “Don’t be an idiot,” he said roughly, and then he was kissing her, and she forgot all about anyone else coming. She only wanted him to keep holding her, to feel the rightness of being against him, feeling the beat of his heart in her own pulse....

  He pulled back from her and shook her. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  When she could focus enough to breathe again, she answered meekly, “I’m sorry. I should have waited. I won’t do it again.” She found herself suddenly shaking all over. “It’s horrible. I never want to see anything like that again, ever.”

  He looked down at her with a mixture of anger and relief, and then he shook his head. “Show me.”

  She took him through the garden, into the house, up the steep and dark stairs, and then they stood at the entrance of the living room with the ocean beyond and the bloody werewolf hanging on the stone wall.

  Mick stared for the longest time in silence. He seemed even more stunned than she had been. “Exactly like the film,” he finally said. “It’s a warning.”

  “It worked.” Barrie looked around the blue moonlit room and shivered. “We should get out of here and wait for everyone outside. Brodie’s mad enough at me already.” She winced, remembering his voice on the phone.

  “Brodie McKay? The Elven cop?” Mick sounded tense.

  “Yes, he’s—well, he’s family now. He tends to be protective. He’s coming with Tony Brandt. They’re going to camouflage the murder.”

  “A cleanup crew. That’s convenient,” Mick said, as if from far away.

  “Come on.” She tugged at his arm, and he finally turned from the dead werewolf and left with her.

  * * *

  Rhiannon’s Volvo and Brodie’s ATV were just pulling up as Mick and Barrie came out through the gate onto the street. Barrie’s cousins piled out of the Volvo; Brodie and Brandt got out of the Explorer.

  Rhiannon and Sailor rushed forward, whether to hug Barrie or kill her was not entirely clear, but Brodie said sharply and quietly, “Save it. Everyone inside the gate. We can’t be attracting any attention.”

  In the garden, after Barrie had endured the requisite hugging and reprimanding, she introduced Mick to Brodie, and they looked each other over with alpha-male wariness, then to Brandt, who also looked at Mick sharply and thoughtfully. She found herself feeling defensive, as if Mick was somehow being judged and found wanting. She reached for his hand, and he closed his fingers over hers absently.

  “Let’s take a look,” Brodie said to Brandt, and then glanced at the cousins and Mick. “The rest of you stay here inside the gate.”

  Brodie and Brandt disappeared into the house.

  “It’s awful. Staged,” Barrie said to her cousins, as they all took seats on the planters around the fountain. “Like the killer was sending a warning.”

  “It’s more than that,” Mick said, slipping an arm around Barrie as he looked up at the house. She leaned into him as he spoke. “In the film that scene was about the were being made an example of for trying to break the Code of Silence.”

  Barrie glanced up at him, frowning.

  He elaborated. “The vampires talked about it in the scene before the murder.”

  Barrie’s mind was racing as she scrambled to remember. “I don’t think that was in the scene.”

  She could see Rhiannon and Sailor thinking, too.

  “No,” Sailor said. “We just saw the movie. That wasn’t in the scene.”

  An odd look flashed across Mick’s face in the dark. Then he shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. I could be wrong.”

  Barrie bit her nails as she looked up at the house. The bloody scene inside was imprinted in her mind, probably forever. The sweet fragrances of jasmine and lemon blossoms that surrounded them just seemed painful in the circumstances.

  “I don’t see how we’re going to be able to keep things under wraps anymore,” she said aloud. “Two Hollywood players on that level dying so close together?”

  “And both connected to Otherworld,” Rhiannon brooded.

  “People aren’t necessarily going to see it that way,” Sailor pointed out. “They’ve both worked on so many other films, Mayo especially. He’s green-lit dozens of movies just at WIP. We’re seeing it as related to Otherworld because Barrie made the connection. And you know how everyone in town expects people to die in threes. No one ever thinks that the deaths are related, they just know that death comes in threes.”

  It was true. When a major celebrity died it always set the gossip mill speculating over who would be next.

  “That’s sort of brilliant, Sailor,” Rhiannon said. “Maybe we can even encourage that kind of talk.”

  “No,” Barrie said violently, startling the others, who looked at her in shock. “It’s too close to what might really happen.” The thought was actually terrifying, because she realized she was fully expecting more people—and Others—to die. But before she could say that, there was the sound of footsteps, and everyone turned toward the house as Brodie and Brandt came out into the garden. The cousins all stood, anxious to hear.

  “He died from blood loss, caused by a spear through the throat,” Brandt reported in a low voice. “Severed the carotid and jugular. Exsanguination was almost instantaneous, occurring within a minute. You can see the blood spray curtained all over the walls. Then the body was moved, but not far. He was speared through the throat and died in front of the fireplace, then hung up on the chimney soon after. Core body temperature indicates he’s been dead only a few hours.” He turned to Barrie. “You must have found him very shortly after the killer left.”

  Rhiannon and Sailor eyed Barrie with a combination of relief and accusation.

  “I know, I know,” she muttered.

  “The killer might have been right there in the house with you!” Rhiannon exploded.

  “I was invisible. And I’m fine,” Barrie defended herself.

  Before her cousins could jump on her, Brodie stepped forward to stop the onslaught. “You three can argue about it later.” That quiet tone of authority—coming from a six-foot-five-inch Elven homicide detective—silenced the cousins. “Right now we’re going to have to move the body again. We can restage the scene as a home invasion and process it that way for the official record, release it to the press. It will scare the hell out of Malibu residents, but it won’t hurt people to take a little more care with security, and it’s a story that fits the appearance of the scene.”

  “Can I help?” Mick asked tensely.

  Brodie turned to look at him, and again Barrie had the uneasy feeling that he was evaluating Mick, judging him. “We could use the help,” he admitted finally, but Barrie felt he wasn’t thrilled with the prospect. Then Brodie turned to the cousins. “And I want the three of you to go home,” he told them. “Take care of Barrie. Stay in each others’ sight. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

  After they’d all nodded, he stepped closer to Rhiannon, and they spoke together in low tones.

  At the same time Mick moved to Barrie’s side and took her hand as he leaned into her. “I’ll come over after we’ve finished here. If you want me to,” he said in a voice so low and hungry she could have fainted right there.

  “I want you to,” she said softly.

  He squeezed her hand hard and then stepped back from her. “Be careful,” he said, holding her eyes.

  “Be careful,” Rhiannon said to Brodie and Brandt.

  And they all parted uneasily.

  Chapter 16

  Sailor drove Barrie’s car home, claiming she shouldn’t drive “in her state,” and Rhiannon drove her own Volvo. They arrived at the House of the Rising Sun within seconds of each other and got out of the cars to stand in the drive, in the jasmine-scented moonlight beside the pool. The dogs, Sailor’s Jonquil and Rhiannon’s Wizard, bounded up joyfully to greet their mistresses.

  “Thank God that’s over,” Sailor said as she wrestled Jonquil onto the pavement.

  Barrie shook her hea
d. “It’s not over. It was a warning.”

  “But to whom?” Rhiannon asked, as she fended off her enormous Wizard. The three cousins and the dogs drifted toward the pool, which glowed aquamarine under the towering shadows of palm trees.

  Wired as she was, Barrie found her legs were shaky. All those adrenaline crashes tonight, it’s a wonder I’m still conscious. She sat on a poolside divan to think over Rhiannon’s question. “A warning to anyone connected to Otherworld,” she finally answered. “Anyone who may have been in a position to expose things that the killer didn’t want exposed. Or anyone nosing around about it,” she added reluctantly, realizing she was talking about herself.

  “That does it,” Rhiannon muttered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over.”

  Barrie kept going; she couldn’t help herself. “The question is, what did Branson know?”

  “To deserve to die like that...” Sailor shuddered.

  “Exactly,” Barrie said. “Someone really doesn’t want the movie made. Branson was killed after his anonymous financial backing was announced, just this afternoon. Now there’s no director. No director, no movie. At least for now.”

  “So, it’s a cursed movie again,” Rhiannon said.

  “It sure is looking that way,” Sailor said. And despite the warmth of the soft night breeze, all three of them shivered.

  Barrie stared into the depths of the pool. “It’s not a curse, it’s someone.” It was all too easy for her to call up the vision of the bloodbath inside the beach house, the director’s body, splayed and displayed. “Someone who has no fear, and no remorse, about killing...horribly.”

  “It’s also someone strong enough to overpower a were,” Rhiannon pointed out.

  “Or someone clever enough to take him by surprise,” Barrie said. “Whoever it was, there were no signs of forced entry, and no signs of a struggle on the first floor or the stairs. Which looks like Branson knew his killer, or felt safe with him or her. Enough to let them in, anyway.”

  “What in the world were you doing there, anyway?” Sailor demanded.

  “I got a text from DJ that Branson had agreed to see me and was at home tonight.”

  “So, it was a setup,” Rhiannon said, anger flaring.

  “No,” Barrie said. “I mean, I don’t think so. I mentioned to DJ earlier this evening that I wanted to talk to Branson about Otherworld. I think he was—well, it seemed like he was following up on that and had arranged an interview for me.” That was just a few hours ago, she marveled. It seemed like weeks. She added very reluctantly, “I guess I should tell you—I was attacked at DJ’s estate this evening.”

  “What?”

  “Attacked?”

  It was like having a stereophonic parental explosion. Her cousins’ voices ran together, topping each other in outrage.

  “You didn’t tell us?”

  “And you came here anyway?”

  “Was it DJ who attacked you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Barrie said in a small voice. “But...it was a vampire.”

  Rhiannon’s gasp chilled Barrie’s blood.

  “A vampire would have the strength to spear a were and lift him up to hang him on that fireplace,” Rhiannon said. “It makes sense.”

  “And he knows the scene from the movie. DJ, of all people,” Sailor said, incensed. “Did he seem guilty? When you saw him this afternoon?”

  Barrie paused to think about that. “He seemed like...not like anyone I’ve ever met. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking...or anything about him, really.”

  “Vampire,” Rhiannon said.

  “Actor,” Sailor said darkly.

  “Whatever this is, it’s gone far enough,” Rhiannon said. “Barrie, you can’t just go off investigating on your own like this. People and Others are being killed, and it looks to me as if you were meant to find Branson’s body the way you did. A warning.”

  “I agree,” Sailor said. “Someone knows you know things they don’t want you to know.”

  “But if I am being warned, then I’m getting close,” Barrie said. Her cousins drew themselves up as if they were about to kill her, and she added quickly, “Yes, all right. I’m not going to do anything alone again. But if that was a warning, then someone is going to a lot of trouble that they wouldn’t be going to unless I’m close to the truth.”

  “What truth is that?” Rhiannon asked.

  “That Johnny Love was murdered on the set of Otherworld, and the killer is willing to kill anyone who knows about it to keep that secret, and maybe other secrets, from coming out. Anyone, including Mayo and Tiger and Branson.”

  Her cousins were silent for a moment, processing that.

  “Well, what did DJ tell you?” Sailor demanded.

  Barrie paced in the moonlight, frustrated. “I don’t know, that’s the problem. He talks in more riddles than the Mad Hatter. Except that—he did say Johnny and Branson were talking about using the movie to break the silence and make the existence of Others generally known.”

  Her cousins stared at her. “That’s pretty big,” Sailor said.

  “You mean, you think Johnny’s death—and Branson’s—were political?” Rhiannon asked.

  Barrie considered this. Do I think it’s political?

  She was shaking her head before she even had a conscious thought. “No. I think it’s personal. It feels personal.”

  “Why?” Rhiannon said, and her voice was soft, supportive and encouraging.

  Barrie frowned, and let herself answer again without thinking. “Because everything about Johnny Love was personal. I don’t know about Branson. But Johnny? People had personal reactions to him, not political ones. People got obsessed with him, for heaven’s sake. He made people feel, not think.” She pounded her fist on the pillar of a trellis. “Johnny is the key. He’s the one I need to talk to.”

  And then she lifted her head. “Johnny’s the one I need to talk to,” she repeated dazedly.

  She stood straight. “Merlin!”

  Chapter 17

  Barrie ran straight through the main house to Merlin’s room and skidded to a stop on the polished hardwood floor of the back hall, then reached out to pound on the door. It wasn’t very polite, but things had progressed far beyond polite. She was sure Merlin would understand.

  Sailor and Rhiannon were at her heels almost instantly, mystified.

  Merlin opened the door, and his kind face lit up when he saw the cousins gathered in the hall.

  “My, my, all three of you! To what do I owe this happy...” Then he frowned, looking more closely at them. “But you don’t look happy. Is something wrong?”

  Barrie could barely speak; her words were tripping over each other. “Merlin, I know you weren’t able to find Johnny Love in the afterworld. But is there any chance of reaching him if we tried to call him? Call him to come here?”

  “You mean a séance?” Sailor asked, startled.

  “A summoning,” Merlin corrected her gently.

  Barrie had never done either before, and she didn’t care what it was called as long as there was a chance it might work. “Either. Both. Whatever might get us in touch with Johnny. I think it’s the only way we’re ever going to get to the truth.”

  Merlin’s sky-blue eyes clouded as he considered. “Of course, my dear. It may not be the only way, but it is almost certainly the most direct way.” He paced, thinking. “For this, I think we need the library. But bring the oval mirror from your hallway, Barrie. I find that a particularly easy passageway myself.”

  * * *

  Barrie and Rhiannon ran and got the mirror, and Merlin directed them to set up the library of Castle House in a configuration that was remarkably like the kind of séance they’d all seen a hundred times in movies and on TV: a round table placed in the center with a cloth over it, candles lit in every corner of the room, the standing mirror set up near the table, a bell, a Bible and a candle placed on top of it.

  Merlin directed them, “Now, we all sit at the table and
join hands.”

  The cousins looked at him.

  “I feel like I’m in sixth grade again,” Sailor admitted, as they extended and clasped their hands.

  “You can’t argue with a thousand years of results, my dear,” Merlin told her.

  But once he began to speak, that grade school feeling disappeared entirely. It was partly his gravitas, the utter commitment he had to the mission and the ritual.

  Well, if anyone would know how ghosts like to be summoned... Barrie thought.

  “Now, you three must visualize this young man, as you most clearly remember him. Close your eyes....”

  They obeyed him, letting his voice guide them.

  “And now concentrate on his essence, the thing that made his soul most uniquely himself.” He let them sit for a while in the cool silence of the room.

  Barrie could see the flickering of the candles on her eyelids as she pictured Johnny, that beautiful, golden, mesmerizing star.

  And then Merlin’s voice spoke out, rich and strong. “We are gathered together in the name of the Unknowable Unknown, to request a communion with the departed. We seek the immortal soul of Johnny Love.”

  The candles wavered in the darkness.

  The antique clock began to strike, and Barrie nearly screamed aloud with the shock of it. She could feel her cousins jump in the chairs next to hers. The clock struck three times, and she shivered. The dead hour, it was called. 3:00 a.m. They had started just in time to catch that powerfully psychic time. From Rhiannon’s worried look Barrie knew that her cousin remembered the significance of the hour, as well.

  Suddenly all the candles except for one at the far end of the room were snuffed out. All three cousins gasped at the sudden blackness.

  Merlin said gently, “We welcome you. You are safe here. We welcome you.”

  They all sat in suspended silence, their anticipation vibrating in the darkness. Barrie stared toward the mirror. It was hard to make out, but she thought—thought—she could see something moving in the mirror, the outlines of a human form, lit by the reflection of the faraway candle.