by Daley, Lysa
I reread it. “Nope. No crossbows.”
While he rang everything up, I explained the situation to Mr. Macklemore. I hinted at my reluctance to do any actual killing, without going into too many specific details.
“Tell you what,” Mr. Mackelmore said, pulling a sleek metal crossbow down from a rack of larger weapons. “I’m going to personally lend this weapon to you. State of the art. Made of titanium. Very light and easy to use. If you end up using it and liking it, then we’ll work out some sort of payment plan. If you don’t like it — or you decide to let that sniveling, blood-thirsty vampire continue to roam the streets of our fair city and prey upon its citizens — then you bring this beauty back, no questions asked.”
“I’m not sure that—”
“Take a look at it.” He held it out, and I reluctantly took it in my hands. It felt lighter than I expected. “Just borrow it for a few days.”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
Mr. Macklemore finished tallying up everything. The total came to a few dollars under $1000.
I knew there was no way Stryker had given me that much money. I had less than $750. I pulled out the bills and coins and spread them on the table, wondering if I had miscounted.
Nope. I quickly realized I only had a little over $700. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I have enough.”
But Mr. Mackelmore plucked a single coppery coin out of the pile that I hadn’t noticed. It was roughly the size of a dime but even thinner.
He rubbed it and held it up to the light. Now the little coin sparkled. “Charon’s coin. Very nice. This should cover everything.”
“Wait?” I’d never seen a coin like that before. I knew Charon was the ferryman who carried passengers in his boat to the underworld. It was said you had to pay him with a coin. “That one little coin covers all this?”
“Okay, fine.” He sighed as the corners of his mouth turned down. “I’ll give you $100 in US currency back. Does that sound fair?”
He was giving me change back? That tiny little coin was worth more than a thousand bucks?
I nodded, and slipped the rest of the money back in my wallet. “Thank you for all of your help.”
“Good luck.”
“Mr. Mackelmore, can I ask you one more thing?”
“Of course.”
I pulled out the small, tarnished coin my father had given. I’d stashed it in a hidden, zippered pocket on the inside of my messenger bag for safe keeping. I showed it to him. “Do you know what this is?”
At first, he looked unimpressed. He took it between his fingers and lifted it to the light to get a better look. His face instantly changed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He held the coin over a steaming mug of coffee on the counter, then dropped it in the brown liquid. The coffee instantly froze.
“Whoa!” I took a step back.
“Child, where did you get this? This single coin can get you killed.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Where did this coin come from?” he asked.
“I…I can’t tell you that. But you know what it is?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “This is faerie’s gold. No Earthly creature should be in possession of it. Faeries never let it out of their possession. They will kill you without blinking an eye to get a single coin back.”
“The faeries will kill you over a piece of gold?”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “I know everyone thinks faeries are pretty little delicate creatures that flit gently from flower to flower, but believe me, if you cross them, they can become as vicious and deadly as a demon. And nothing upsets the queens of faerieland more than someone taking their gold.”
“Who would steal a fortune in faerie gold?”
“A fool,” he said with a rough laugh. Then he paused, seemingly thinking it through. “Or, some crazy criminal genius who plans to use the gold for their own dark purposes.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head, sliding the coin back to me. “Be careful, very careful.”
Mr. Macklemore helped me carry the supplies out to my car. He suggested that it would be smart to store everything in my trunk. In case I got pulled over. Apparently, the police got jumpy about wooden stakes and brimstone-tipped arrows sitting out in the open in the backseat.
“In the off chance you get stopped by a cop and they search your car, say that you’re going bear hunting,” he offered.
No one was going to believe I was going bear hunting. I rolled my eyes. “Should I say black bear and brown bear?”
He seemed incredulous. “Well, I doubt they’ll believe you’re hunting polar bears in California.”
Hard to argue with that.
I thanked him, got in my car, and pulled into the traffic of Hollywood Blvd. I hadn’t gone more than two blocks when I heard a police siren behind me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” I said aloud.
The swirling blue and red bubble gum lights of the LAPD grew closer in my rearview mirror. I hadn’t even been driving for a full minute, and I was getting pulled over by the police.
But then I noticed that it was a police motorcycle, not a squad car, and I immediately knew who it was.
I turned into the parking lot of a local burger place and stopped. Rolling down my window, I watched the officer, still wearing his helmet, approach my driver’s side window. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I said, “Are you following me, Sam?”
He took off his helmet, freeing his soft brown curls. “No, I am not following you, Miss McCray.”
“I’ve run into you three times this week,” I argued. “It’s feeling a little stalker-esque, if you ask me.”
“You just keep showing up in places that I happen to have under surveillance.”
“Under surveillance?” I raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you surveilling?”
“That shop back there, the one you came out of, is bad news.”
“Mr. Mackelmore’s store? Have you even been inside?”
He hesitated. “No. Not exactly.”
“Wait? You have the store under surveillance but have never been inside?”
His cheeks flushed. He wasn’t interested in the store. He was following me.
“Maybe you should go in,” I said. “I’ll go with you. The owner is a very nice man named John J. Macklemore. They have a lot of clocks.”
“Clocks?”
“Yes, clocks.”
“Do you mind if I search your vehicle?” he said, changing the subject.
I may not have been a lawyer, but I’d watched enough “Law and Order” to know that he probably couldn’t legally search my car.
“What? On what grounds?” I asked. “Do you have a warrant?”
“Come on, Lacey.” He slumped like a little boy whose bluff got called. “What was all that stuff that guy put in your trunk.”
So he had been watching me.
“It’s for my employer,” I replied. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more than that.”
“The same employer you were working for downtown? Because I’m pretty sure you told me you weren’t going to work for them anymore.”
“Look, I need the money for school. This is just a temporary thing.” I hesitated. “If you’re smart, Sam, you’d let this go.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I don’t know you, Lacey, but I think you’re going to get hurt. I think you’re involved with some very dangerous people. I think there’s a very bad group of people who may dabble in the supernatural and are involved in something big.”
“The supernatural?” I said, arching my eyebrows.
“Yes.” He paused. “I haven’t figured it all out yet.”
I felt bad making him feel like he was crazy, but it was dangerous for a regular to go sticking their nose in the supernatural world. But there was something in his voice that was so honest and noble, I heard myself say, “Fine. You can look in the trunk.”
&nbs
p; “Really?” He seemed shocked that I was actually consenting to his request. “Okay, great.”
He was nothing if not adorable. Super naive, but adorable all the same. Sam was obviously onto Mr. Stroud and the seekers, but he hadn’t figured out more. I wondered why he was so convinced that they were bad guys.
I got out of the car and slowly walked around to the trunk, pretending to fumble with my keys to buy a little time. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t believe anyone was going bear hunting.
My mind raced as I tried to remember a good cloaking spell. Cloaking spells were pretty basic, as incantations go, especially ones that only needed to last for a few minutes.
I pretended to look for something in my bag. “Hey, could you grab my keys? They’re on the dashboard.”
“Sure,” he said, moving back to the driver’s side of the car and leaning in the window while trying to keep an eye on me.
The keys weren’t in the car. Of course, Sam didn’t know that.
I popped the trunk, quietly speeding through the spell an instant before Sam returned to my side.
“Nevermind. I found them.”
“Where were…” His gaze turned to the boxes in my car. “Strawberries?”
“Yes.” I looked down at half a dozen big boxes, filled to the very top with strawberries. When I was a girl, I’d try to turn any fruit or vegetable I could into my favorite sweet red fruit instead.
“That’s an awful lot of strawberries.” He looked at me like I was a completely crazy person. “I thought you said that place back there was a clock shop?”
I reached in, pretending to root around for something behind the strawberry boxes while I quickly cloaked an old flashlight into a vintage alarm clock.
“Here’s the clock,” I said holding it up. “It’s a gift for my best friend, Ellie.”
“An alarm clock and twenty pounds of strawberries?” He was suspicious.
“I’m planning to make jam,” I said with an innocent twist of my hands. “I’ll save you a jar.”
He nodded, looked at the strawberries then back up at me. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or disappointed that he wasn’t finding some sort of illegal contraband. Finally, he let out a big sigh. “I would love some jam.”
“Can I go?”
“Sure.”
I got back into my car and started it up.
Standing at my window, he said, “Hey, I’m really sorry if I inconvenienced you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I cut him off, feeling a little guilty for tricking him. But I was happy to be back in my car because by now the strawberries had probably faded back into the boxes of vampire hunting gear. “Sam, I think maybe you need to go easy on the … surveillance stuff.”
His cheeks flushed. “You might be right… I think my mind is starting to play tricks on me. You stay safe out there.”
“I will.” I smiled, wondering if he was going to make me keep my word and give him some strawberry jam. I could probably buy some from the Westwood farmers market if I had to.
“But I’m still worried about you, Lacey. I can’t shake the feeling that I think you’re getting mixed up in something dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine, Sam.”
“I hope so. You still have my card if you ever need me.”
“Thanks.” I flashed him a grin and drove off.
I headed down Hollywood Blvd, cutting south on La Brea. My stomach growled as I passed the fleet of fast food chains along the way. I knew the fridge in my apartment was pretty bare, and I was running sadly short on cash for groceries.
But a girl’s got to eat, right?
Driven by hunger and the need for some decent Mexican food, I made a detour to Cactus Tacos over on Vine Blvd. It was a little walk-up taco shack with some of the best tacos in town. But even more importantly, they were cheap. For five bucks, I got two fish tacos and a horchata, a flavorful milky tea made from rice or almonds, to go.
While I waited for my order, I called Stryker on my cell.
He answered with, “You got everything on the list?”
Hello to you too.
“Yes. Everything and more.”
“Great. I’ll text you my address. Bring it over,” he instructed me. “And don’t forget my change.”
“Right,” I said as they called my number from behind the counter.
“Where are you?” he asked, overhearing the loud speaker.
“Cactus Tacos on Vine,” I said.
“Awesome. Get me a steak burrito with a side of rice and beans.”
He hung up before I could reply.
The bill for Stryker’s food was $8.42. I made an executive decision and handed the girl behind the counter $20 from the money he’d given me. “Keep the change.”
Stryker could afford a nice tip.
“Thanks.” The cashier smiled.
I sat at one of the outdoor tables in the shade, sipping the sweet rice horchata tea and eating my lunch. It felt nice to relax for a quiet moment, away from all my troubles.
Stryker texted me the address of his apartment in Santa Monica. The good news was traffic shouldn’t be too terrible over to the west side at this time of day. I took side streets to the 10 Freeway then found my way to his swanky garden apartment off of 6th Street in fifteen minutes.
I parked across the street from his building, casting a quick locking spell on my car just in case someone wanted to break in to steal the cache of weapons and supplies in the trunk.
I took the elevator up to the fourth floor, holding the bag with the burrito. Walking down the open air hallway, I could see the blue Pacific, a half a dozen blocks away, in the distance.
Pretty nice digs.
This apartment most certainly cost a pretty penny. A Range Rover and a luxe apartment. Maybe there was something to this bounty hunting gig, after all.
I knocked on the door to apartment #404 and waited. No one answered. I checked my phone to make sure I was at the right apartment. Stryker’s text confirmed that he lived in #404.
I knocked again. Louder this time.
Stryker’s voice finally called out, “Hang on.” Ten seconds later, the door opened and he stuck his head out. “Oh good. My lunch.” He snatched the bag out of my hand.
I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The sweet smell of cloves drifted out. This was the second time I’d smelled the cloves around Stryker.
“What do you want me to do with all the stuff in my car?” I asked.
A pair of female voices called out from inside the apartment. “Stryker, baby, we’re waiting.”
“What’s taking so long?” cooed a second voice.
He, at least, had the decency to look a tiny bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m having my aura cleansed by a pair of faeries.”
“Oh-kay,” I replied.
“You know how faeries are.” He winked. “Hang on for a second. I’ll be out in a few.”
“You take all the time you need,” I said as he shut the door. Then I quietly added, “Because it seems like your aura could use a good cleaning.”
A distinguished, older African American couple, who lived across the hall, opened their door and stepped out. They looked startled to see me standing there. I smiled and nodded, trying to look harmless. They gave me a tight-lipped grin and hurried toward the elevator.
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. After a moment, the hairs on the back on my neck stood up.
Someone was watching me.
I looked around and saw no one. Then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see a large tabby cat slinking out from behind a potted plant. It turned its big green eyes up to me and gracefully swished closer, tail held high.
“Hello there.” I knelt down to pet the cat.
Then, before my eyes, it shifted into a man, leaving me staring at a pair of well-shined black wingtip shoes and the cuff of grey flannel suit pants.
I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“Lysandra, I don’t have much time,” he said in hushed tones. “Did you find out anything about the coin?”
“It’s faerie gold,” I said, matching his quiet tones.
His eyes went wide for a second, then he scowled. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Dad, please tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t,” he said, nervously glancing over his shoulder. “Not yet. Soon, it will all be clear.”
Before I could reply, Stryker’s door opened. He came striding out, wearing his familiar uniform of black combat pants, boots, and his leather jacket.
“Stryker, this is my….” I went to introduce my dad. But when I turned my head, my father was gone.
All I saw were the shining black tail feathers of a large raven as it disappeared over the roofline.
Stryker looked at me cockeyed. “Your what?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Are you ready to go?”
He strode past me snapping his finger. “Baby, I was born ready.”
“And where exactly are we going?”
“We’re going to empty your car,” he said. “And then you’re off again.”
“Where am I going this time?”
“Beverly Hills.” He glanced at his Rolex. “Excellent. You have just enough time.”
“Enough time for what?”
“Enough time to get there and back before it gets dark.”
Chapter Eighteen
“What’s this?” Stryker turned the sleek modern crossbow Mr. Mackelmore had given me over in his hands. “I don’t use a crossbow.”
We stood on the street, unloading everything from the trunk of my car.
“That’s, uh, for me…” A wave of heat flushed my cheeks. “But I’m not using it.”
“Then why do you have it?” He tossed it back into my trunk.
“The guy at the shop lent it to me. It’s no big thing,” I blurted, then I changed the subject. “So where am I going now?”
“The vampire we’re after goes by the named Bernardo. I need you to go talk to an old associate of his who may know where he’s been hanging out.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
