* * *
"Charles, I believe a rogue may be behind these murders," Wlodek slid a folder across his desk.
"Austin, Texas, in the U.S.?" Charles flipped the folder open.
"Yes. These murders are very similar to those in San Francisco and Washington, D.C. Rogues were certainly behind those killings—we have confirmation. Who might be available to go? I realize Director Jennings has a team on this already, but I wish to get to the bottom of this quickly. You understand why, of course."
"Of course. Radomir is on his way back from France," Charles offered, his hazel eyes taking in Wlodek's dark, unreadable gaze before dropping to the paperwork again.
"Then arrange for a flight to the U.S. for my youngest," Wlodek sighed. "Perhaps he can rest during the trip."
"I will, Honored One."
* * *
"Mom knows." Jayson phoned Hank the moment he left the hospital.
"I kept telling you to say something."
"I know. She seems more okay with it than I might have guessed. She says I'm pretending with Bree, and she wants to keep Bree as a friend."
"Well?"
"I—look, I don't know about this. Breanne has something that pulls at me, but," Jayson said.
"Get your shit straight, then, before you talk to her again."
"What are you planning to do? Since we've figured out she's involved in these investigations, somehow?"
"No idea. I want to talk to her and get her to tell me what's going on. Maybe I can figure out what to do if she admits the truth."
"It may be one of those situations where she can't tell us."
"Did your dad say where he was when you and your brother couldn't find him?"
"Says he was doing research. Just walked into the hospital and started yelling at doctors and nurses. Everybody ran after that. Sometimes he's a bastard. They saved Mom and he wants to yell like it's all somebody else's fault."
"People handle stress and anger in different ways."
"Yeah. I understand that, all right."
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"The good news, I guess, is that most of the kids have gone home for Christmas already," Bill grumped over dinner. "There's not many left on campus, and security is warning all of them," he added.
"Do they not have somewhere else to go?" Opal asked. Bill had taken us to a restaurant about a mile from our hotel for dinner at seven. He'd kept his word, calling us at six and telling Opal and me to stop working.
"Most are grad students writing papers. They're using the free time to get extra work done."
"Even with the threat and dead bodies showing up regularly? I could find another place else to write," Opal snorted.
"I'm with you," I nodded at Opal. "Some people just think they're bullet-proof, I guess. With these killers, I think all they need is a victim and opportunity. There's no real motive, other than making some girl dead." That was true—so far, college girls had been targeted, and it didn't seem to matter what they looked like. The youngest had been eighteen—the oldest, twenty-four.
"What kind of warning are they getting?" Opal asked Bill. "Is it to stay indoors after dark, or just practice caution or some other, worthless jargon?"
"I can find out," Bill shook his head. "It would be a good idea to tell them not to go out at night, but they'll likely interpret that as 'don't go out alone at night,' or something else that they'll rationalize away."
"It won't matter if they go out in a crowd. That won't protect them from a determined vamp," I pointed out. "What about campus bars or hotspots? Is there a regular hangout that gets crowded, no matter what?"
Bill hauled out his cellphone and made a call to campus police. He had the chief on the line pretty quick. Of course I listened in.
"It's called The Beer Barrel," I heard the chief's answer clearly. "Some go there to do homework. They have free Wi-Fi, but there's always music playing and I have no idea how they can even think with that going on."
Bill thanked the chief and hung up before getting an address for Opal and me. Looked like the bar would be on our list of places to visit the following day.
* * *
"Baby, what are you doing?" Hank called right after I reached my room. Opal and I had met in her hotel room after dinner, worked out our list of stops for the following day and then I'd left to get an early appointment with my bed. Hank had invaded my thoughts during the day—when I wasn't yawning, anyway.
"Going to bed. Last night was a write-off," I said, pulling the usual duvet down and folding it across the bottom of my bed.
"When were you planning to tell me you're helping with those investigations?" Surprisingly enough, there was only a hint of accusation in Hank's voice.
"Hank, you're ex-military. I hope you understand the sensitivity of the situation," I grumped. Yeah, I knew I hadn't been honest with him. He'd had one big secret. I had lots of them, some big, some small. Again, I found myself wishing I could just pour it all out for him and that he'd understand completely. That wasn't going to happen. I stared at the usual, white sheets covering my bed. At least Bill got us a nice hotel, and the mattress was definitely softer than a two-by-four.
"I want to sit and have a talk when you come home," Hank said. "It bothers me more than I like to admit, when I know you're not safe."
"Hank, that's really nice of you to say. Not many feel that way," I said. "I've taken care of myself until now. That's not likely to change."
"Bree, you're not letting me be the man."
"I didn't know that was up for debate. You appear to have all the right equipment."
"You're misinterpreting this intentionally."
"You're saying you get to be in charge?"
"I'd like to be, where your safety is concerned."
"Hank, nobody can protect someone from everything. You have to admit that."
"I might be a little better at it than you think."
"You know, I get that about you. Up to a point."
"I want to know about your disappearing trick."
Well, there it was. I was waiting for—and dreading—that question.
"It's called misting," I said, deciding on the truth. Really, how else could I explain it, without claiming to be Houdini?
"Misting. Huh."
"Yes. I turn to invisible mist. It's something only a very few people can do, and I only came by the talent recently."
"How recently?"
"For me, a little more than two years."
"We'll talk about that, too, when you get home."
"Hank, some of this stuff—you'll have me committed."
"No, baby. Try me. You may be surprised."
"Uh-huh. Jayson Rome will have me committed, then. He'll be all over that."
"Jayson will behave. I'll see to it."
"Maybe I'll hand him a few swats. See how he likes it," I muttered. Yeah, I was still upset over that.
"I didn't call to upset you, or keep you from sleeping another night."
"I think that's a given," I stifled a yawn anyway. "How is Kathleen? Have you heard anything?"
"Mrs. Rome is doing well. Jayson's father came home and started ordering the hospital staff around. I have a feeling they're all running scared and cursing him behind his back."
"You think that's why Jayson?" I didn't finish my question.
"I do think that, most of the time. People react to all sorts of things in their lives. Jayson likes to be in charge."
"In a big way, by his own admission," I said.
"That bothers you, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. I think he wants to tell me what to do. I don't want somebody ordering me around. I know what needs doing and that's what I do. Frankly, for somebody to come along who thinks he knows better than I do, well, that's just an insult."
"I understand that. On the other hand, you need to listen, too. Nobody's right all the time, nobody's wrong all the time. For the people who care, some of the things you do are downright frightening, baby."
"Breanne, you're doing nothing to calm my fears for you."
"Just settle down, okay? I've made it this far."
"That's not—that's not it, baby. Weird shit is going on, and somehow, there you are, right in the middle of all of it. I don't like it. Not even a little."
"Look, people are dying. I have to do something about it if I can."
"And you may be making a target of yourself. Don't you realize that?"
"Yeah. I've had somebody say that to me already."
"Who?"
"Somebody tall and blue. See—I told you this is weird, unbelievable and you'd have me committed over it."
"Bree, I think you need to come home. Right now."
"So you can admit me to the nearest psych ward?"
"No. So I can protect you. There are plenty of things out there, and they're not nice. They're gunning for you, I feel it. Tell whoever you're working for that you have to leave."
"I can't tell Bill Jennings that—that's ridiculous," I snapped before I thought.
"Bill Jennings. Director Bill Jennings? This is worse than I thought," Hank muttered. Did he think I wouldn't hear?
"Hank, there are things about me you don't know. Lots of things. They sound crazy. I have to deal with this. Really. You have to let this go and allow me to do what I can."
"Baby, Christmas is five days away. Do they have any plans to shut down the investigation, or let you come home for the holiday, at least?"
"I don't think this killer is planning to stop for a holiday," I said. "He's been killing every other day, and we don't have many leads."
"When is the next date?"
"Tonight," I muttered angrily. "And I'm too tired to go do anything about it."
"Where were you—when you went missing at the dealership?"
"Tulgalan. I'll give you a thousand dollars if that makes any sense at all to you," I huffed. "Good night, Hank. I'm going to bed. I'll probably have nightmares about a killer stalking college girls." I hit the end button on my cellphone before he could make a response.
* * *
"Honored One, I have arrived at the Austin safe house," Radomir informed Wlodek over his cellphone.
"Good. If the vampire follows his usual pattern, tonight is a killing night. Charles has gone through the records, and no extra orders for blood have arrived from the area. Unless the rogue has built up a supply of frozen blood, he is drinking from the population every other night. Find him for me, child. You know how I hate being indebted to humans or shapeshifters."
"I understand that, Father."
"Good. Do you have the information Charles sent?"
"Yes. I am studying it now."
"Do this quickly."
"I will."
* * *
Breanne's Journal
Who needs sleep? Hank's call served to ensure hours of sleeplessness, when he likely intended the opposite. It didn't matter now—I was wide awake. Misting out of my hotel room, I headed for The Beer Barrel.
* * *
"Here, try this."
"What is it?" Willem lifted an eyebrow at Shane. Willem had shown up at NorthStar days earlier. Shane, Tomas and Franklin had taken one look at him, the M'Fiyah asserted itself and now things were going well. Shane had made barbecue for dinner, and Willem, elf that he was, had never heard of it.
"Come on, taste it. Trace loves it."
"Where is he?" Willem cared very much for the tall werewolf, although he'd only seen him a few times.
"Working at SouthStar. It's the off-season, and he and Trajan are doing the pruning, fertilizing and other stuff that has to be done in the groves."
"Where are Galaxsan and Celestan?"
"Guarding Teeg."
"Ah."
"Come on, you're just stalling. Take a bite of this or we'll hold you down," Shane grinned.
"Really?" Willem looked hopefully at Shane.
"You're taking all the fun out of this," Shane chuckled.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
I smelled vampire the moment I misted inside The Beer Barrel. It wasn't our murderer, though. This vampire I knew—from the future. Radomir had come; the Vampire Council had sent an Enforcer. Radomir had the same idea I did—hit the college hotspot to see if the rogue showed up to pick a target.
The place was nearly full, even with the warnings. Granted, most of the patrons were male, but several were there with girlfriends. Laptops were everywhere, with glasses of beer or other drinks sitting nearby on scarred tables. It looked exactly like I'd always imagined a college hangout would.
Those young men probably thought the same as Hank—that they could protect their women from any murderer. They had no idea what might be stalking their girlfriends, just as Hank had no inkling what might be hunting me.
Honestly, I wasn't sure who was hunting me, either, but I'd seen their handiwork. Destroying four million lives with a sandstorm in Targis, after wiping Beledweyne off the map? That was more than frightening, and I still wasn't recovered enough to repeat my trick if they decided to do that again. I might be able to do a little, but nothing on that scale until I was rested.
Misting behind Radomir, I followed him as his broad shoulders worked their way through a small crowd ordering at the bar. Likely, he wanted to ask the bartender questions. Strangely enough, if Radomir hadn't tried that tactic, I wouldn't have found him. He was human, there was no denying the scent. He also bore compulsion. For the moment, however, he was intent on ordering a beer.
I knew two things about Radomir. One, he would become a member of the Saa Thalarr in the future. Two, he would also protect Ashe Evan's secrets in the future. For as long as he could, anyway. Compulsion from a sire would always hold precedence, but Radomir was more than honorable.
Radomir, I spoke into his mind. Yes, he had latent talent, but it wasn't reliable. Somewhere in his past, he held a smidgen of Elemaiyan blood.
Is someone there? He wasn't expecting to hear mindspeech, or to be heard when he sent back. I heard him perfectly.
Yes, I replied. The young man to your left—the one in the red T-shirt holding out a five-dollar bill? He has had compulsion laid.
"Show yourself," Radomir growled low. Well, I'd started this, and he was right not to believe just anybody.
"I'm right here," I said, touching his shoulder lightly. I lowered my shield so he could smell what I was, too.
"What?" He turned swiftly and stared—an unusual reaction from any vampire older than four hundred, and he was certainly older than that.
"He's had compulsion laid," I nodded toward the young man, who was still waiting for his order to be taken by a very busy bartender.
"You're vampire," Radomir growled.
"Yeah. And your target might be getting away unless you do something."
"You're hunting the killer, too?"
"Oh, yeah," I huffed. "I killed the rogues in San Francisco and D.C. Now I want this fucker, too."
"Bill Jennings," Radomir began.
"I'm working part-time with him. You should keep that quiet, by the way," I added.
"The Council doesn't know you exist," Radomir muttered, beginning to take me seriously.
"I understand that. Right now, that doesn't matter. Lives are at stake, and I want to save them if I can," I pointed out.
"I will retrieve this young man. You will follow me," Radomir placed compulsion. Well, as usual, that didn't work, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I followed him quietly as he ordered the young man to come with us. The human trailed us right out of the bar.
"Tell me who he is," Radomir commanded, his voice dripping with intense compulsion. All three of us sat in the back of a rental van while Radomir questioned our prisoner. Still thinking I was under his compulsion as well (he'd told me to sit quietly while he worked), Radomir proceeded with the interrogation.
I'd already read the
young man before Radomir got started. He didn't know the vampire's name—he only had a location. He was supposed to pick up a girl at the bar and lead her in the vampire's direction. Likely, that's what the vampire's usual plan was, and he'd selected other young men to lure away his victims.
This one had been instructed to take the girl to another bar, pick a fight with her and then leave her there. The vampire would arrive, place compulsion, the girl would then leave by herself and meet with the vampire later—for blood drinking and murder. The whole thing chilled me.
What I did get from the young man was a clear picture of the vampire's face. Dithering for a few moments while Radomir received the same information I'd already gathered, I took a chance and inserted the vampire's image into Radomir's mind. He was an Enforcer—perhaps he'd recognize this one.
"Tanner Johns," Radomir growled before jerking his head in my direction. "You are quite talented. I will defend you before my father. Come, we will find this rogue and dispatch him, first."
More compulsion was laid on the young man—to go back to The Beer Barrel and forget he'd seen either of us. He climbed out of the van and wandered away.
We now had an address for another bar, and Radomir entered that on a GPS while driving. I didn't point out how dangerous that was—he was vampire and he hadn't said I could talk again. Let him keep thinking his compulsion worked. Things were much safer for both of us if he believed that.
The Coconut Lounge was a much classier bar than The Beer Barrel. By a long shot. Radomir never knew it, but I shielded both of us as he cleared a path for us inside the bar. He was tall, dark-haired and had a Middle Eastern ancestry, much like his older vampire sibling, Flavio.
Although he never scented us, Tanner Johns obviously recognized Radomir. He'd been sitting alone at a small table in a dark corner, watching everyone who walked into the bar. Radomir scented Tanner immediately. Tanner was up instantly and running for the door, Radomir flying after him.
* * *
"I have a location for the shapeshifter, my liege. Shall I eliminate?"
"As quickly as possible."
"Thank you, my liege."
* * *
James Rome, Sr. studied his chief staff attorney. He'd brought a galley of the book to Marshall Earls, because Ross Gideon had made a suggestion. James thought it a good idea, too, and wanted his attorney's opinion before proceeding.
Blood Trouble Page 23
