And I knew I should be grateful that this was something I could handle over the phone. Calling for Silas to come drive me to Raoul Ortiz’s office at the civic center would have wasted far too much valuable time.
I wondered then if I should contact Silas after all, though. He’d told me to phone him if I had any more visions. So I had, but this one didn’t seem to have any connection to my family, or to Lucius Montfort and his local vampire gang. Instances like these were the only times I didn’t resent my gift — or curse — times when I could actually use it for something good.
If only they could all be like this. I didn’t want to think about a dim, hazy future that involved dodging vampires for the rest of my life. All I wanted was for these visions to help people, instead of making things somehow worse for me, turning me into a pawn to be manipulated by someone like Montfort.
In the end, I didn’t call Silas. I waited there on the couch, only paying partial attention to the television. One episode bled into another, and about two hours later, my phone rang.
The display told me it was Raoul Ortiz calling back. I grabbed the phone, heart pounding. The short time frame didn’t necessarily mean good news. I could only pray that it did.
“Serena.”
“Detective Ortiz.”
“We found her.”
I sagged against the sofa cushions, relief making me limp. “And she’s all right?”
“She’s safe. She’d been assaulted multiple times, and she’s on her way to the hospital for observation, but we got there in time.”
“Who…?”
“An ex-boyfriend. I can’t say anything more than that.”
“Of course.” I understood; just because I was in a unique position to provide him with these tips didn’t mean that I could be privy to sensitive information. As horrible as the ordeal that girl suffered had been, I couldn’t help being slightly relieved that at least this appeared to be a one-off crime. I didn’t have to worry about a serial killer working in the San Gabriel Valley, on top of everything else.
“Thank you, Serena.” Ortiz’s voice was calm, but I could hear the gratitude in it. “Because of you, that girl has a future. You keep calling me whenever you see something. Please.”
“I will. Trust me on that.”
“I do. You have a good afternoon.”
He hung up, but I held the phone in my hand for a moment longer, staring down at it until the screen began to grow dim and fade to black. I’d just helped to save a girl’s life. That had to give me some additional good karma, didn’t it?
I just wasn’t sure if it would be enough to help me prevail against Lucius Montfort and his minions.
Chapter Eleven
I slept well that night, better than I had in a long time. No dreams disturbed my slumber, nothing to prevent me from getting the rest I so desperately needed. And when I awoke, I also felt better than I had since that semivive had attacked me on Marengo Avenue. The future was still uncertain, but I didn’t feel quite so hopeless. I’d saved someone else’s life.
Maybe I’d be able to save mine, too.
Or my sister’s.
The worry about Vanessa returned, although I did my best to push it aside as I made my morning coffee and some toast. I’d done everything I could to remind myself she wasn’t in any immediate danger, but how could I know that for sure? Yes, she was well-known in fashion circles and had kind of a cult following amongst the fashionistas, but I honestly had no idea whether that minor level of fame was sufficient to make her immune to an assault by Lucius Montfort.
To reassure myself, I opened up my MacBook and went back to the blog where I’d first read about the connection between the vampire and my sister. Yes, I could have simply called or texted her to make sure she was still among the living, but I knew Vanessa. She was probably still angry over what I’d said about Lucius Montfort, and there was a high likelihood that she wouldn’t respond to a phone call or a text, would want me to stew a good long while before she got back to me. Anyway, I supposed it was too much to ask for her to be featured two days in a row on the same blog, because I didn’t see anything else mentioned there. Fine, well, Google was my friend. So I typed in “Vanessa Quinn” and “Montfort,” just to see what would pop up. Yes, there was the original article I’d found, but I also saw a mention of the financing deal on another industry blog, along with the projected date for the launch of her spring line. Both entries had today’s date on them.
As far as I could tell, things seemed to be humming right along. All that could change on a dime, of course, but I figured I had enough time to shower and get ready for my day, and decide what I needed to do next. The impulse that had kept me from speaking with Silas seemed childish now, and I resolved to call him as soon as I was done with my morning prep.
I didn’t rush, though, but took a leisurely shower, and spent more time than I normally would on my makeup and hair. Why, I couldn’t exactly say, only that the last time Silas had seen me, I’d still been sporting an expertly styled coif, courtesy of the hair magicians who worked for my sister. I wanted to do what I could to measure up to that standard.
It was almost as if I considered it a given that Silas would come over once I had called him.
Which, as it turned out, wasn’t completely ridiculous, because after I did make the phone call, letting him know about what was going on with my sister, and also about the vision I’d had, he immediately said that he wanted to come over and discuss matters with me. While I was starting to get used to the way he never wanted to talk about anything important over the phone, I couldn’t help being a little startled.
“You’re sure?” I asked. “I mean, it’s all’s well that ends well in terms of the vision, and my sister seems to be okay — ”
“For now,” he responded, his tone grim.
What in the world was I supposed to say to that? Since I knew he didn’t want to get into any detail over the phone, there wasn’t much I could say. “All right,” I told him, then added, sparked by a sudden impulse, “But let’s go out for lunch. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m getting stir-crazy.”
A pause. For a few seconds, I wondered if he was going to refuse, but then he said, “Of course. I’ll be there in a half hour.”
He ended the call then. I stared at my phone’s screen for a moment, then shrugged and put it in my purse. It didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out he wasn’t thrilled about the lunch thing. Why, I wasn’t sure. Because he didn’t think it was a good idea for me to go out any more than I absolutely had to, or because he felt that going out for lunch veered a little too close to “date” territory for his liking?
I couldn’t know. Actually, I wasn’t even sure what whim had driven me to make the suggestion, except that I really was starting to have a bad case of cabin fever. It was one thing to stay inside for days when doing so was my own choice. Being driven to do the same because of trying to avoid vampires and their slaves? That was something else entirely.
Because I didn’t have anything better to do, I went in the bathroom and fussed with my hair a bit more, then scrutinized my appearance in the mirror. I’d put on one of my long skirts and a fitted tee with a denim jacket over it. Ballerina flats because it wasn’t quite warm enough to go around in sandals…at least not for me. My feet tended to get cold easily, residual circulatory damage from the accident. Anyway, the whole ensemble was fairly casual, but not as casual as jeans. Would Silas think I was trying too hard? That my styled hair and light makeup and silver hoop earrings meant I’d dolled myself up for our “date”?
I really didn’t know. True, if I knew I wasn’t going to be leaving the house, then I’d gladly flop around in yoga pants, my hair pulled back in a ponytail and no makeup on at all, unless you could count lip balm. But my mother had trained me far too well — I didn’t dare go outside without being “done.” After all, roaming around town looking like a complete slob would reflect badly on her, on the family. And it would only get worse if — when
— Jackson formally announced his candidacy. I could only imagine paparazzi lurking outside Whole Foods, trying to get a snap of the candidate’s sister with a bare face and wearing a tank top or something.
The doorbell rang, and I hurried out of the bathroom so I could answer it. Silas stood outside, once again in one of his inevitable dark T-shirts and a pair of jeans. Since I’d seen him in a dress shirt the other night, I knew that he must have other items of clothing in his wardrobe, but sometimes I still couldn’t help wondering. Maybe all he had was that single button-down shirt.
Luckily, Southern California was casual pretty much all the time, unless you were trying to eat at a five-star restaurant or something. I certainly didn’t have designs in that direction; I figured we could go up to Slater’s 50/50 — I was hungry, and one of their burgers sounded great right about then — or maybe over to Green Street if Silas wanted something a little more refined.
As soon as I shut the door, he said, “Tell me about your vision.”
“I thought I did.”
“You said it wasn’t important.”
That sounded awful. “What I meant was, it wasn’t important in terms of being connected to Lucius Montfort, or my family. Obviously, it was hugely important to the girl who was rescued.”
Silas nodded. “Perhaps, but I’d still like to hear it.”
It would take more time to keep protesting than it would to simply tell him the story. So I did, doing my best to include every detail, even the ones that didn’t seem significant. He listened, expression grave, but he didn’t try to interject. At the end of my recitation, though, he asked, “How many visions like this do you have in relation to the ones that seem to be hinting at some sort of possible future?”
I’d never really analyzed my visions in that way. A shrug, and then I replied, “I’m not sure. Maybe…twenty percent? I haven’t kept count. I’d have to go through my journal and try to crunch some numbers.”
“But you also keep a record through your drawings.”
“A partial record,” I allowed. “Some visions lend themselves better to that kind of recollection than others. The other ones I try to write down, because they don’t always stay with me for very long. This one was very sharp and brief and vivid…and urgent. I knew in this instance, it was more important for me to contact Detective Ortiz right away rather than try to commit any of it to paper. The same with the other visions I’ve had where I knew immediate action was needed.”
“And you can always tell the difference?”
“So far.”
Silas was quiet then, one hand absently rubbing his chin, which as usual was covered in a few days’ worth of scruff. “Well, that’s a good thing, clearly.”
“I think so.” I went to retrieve my purse from where I’d dropped it on the dining room table. “So…are you more in the mood for burgers or something a little lighter?”
“Whatever you want,” he replied, which I supposed I should have expected.
I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. Yes, the burgers at Slater’s were awesome, but at Green Street we could sit outside on the patio and enjoy the bright day. I was starting to feel like a cave-dweller. “Have you ever been to Green Street?”
“I’ve driven down it,” Silas said, looking slightly mystified by my question.
“Not the road, the restaurant. They have a salad that’s truly divine. And we can eat outside.”
“Well, then.”
That seemed to settle it. Luckily, no one was around when we emerged from my condo. I knew Brian was on some kind of deadline, and his partner Lewis worked in downtown L.A. and wouldn’t be home for hours, so I avoided having to make any awkward introductions. Not that I thought they would be awkward, exactly, because of Lewis and Brian’s overwhelming cheerfulness, only that I really had no idea how to even explain Silas to them. It seemed better to avoid the meet-and-greet until it was truly inevitable.
The big black Dodge truck waited for us in the visitor parking area. I thought about asking Silas how he always managed to get one of those premium spots, no matter what time of day it was, then decided maybe I didn’t want to know.
“So is Green Street actually on Green Street?” Silas asked as he pulled out of the parking space.
“Not exactly. I think it used to be, years ago. You can head east here on Cordova, then turn on Shoppers Lane. There’s a parking structure, and the restaurant is next to that.”
He nodded, and we drove along in silence. It really was a fairly short hop, one that might have been walkable…except for that old joke about how no one walks in L.A. Or Pasadena, for that matter. Anyway, I could see why staying safely inside a vehicle was probably a better idea. Although I couldn’t imagine a semivive being bold enough to jump both me and Silas in broad daylight, I also didn’t want to put that belief to the test.
By that point it was close to one-thirty, and the lunch crowds had begun to thin out. We didn’t have to wait long for an outdoor table, where the hostess took our orders for a couple of iced teas and told us our server would be along shortly.
Even as I sat down, I could feel myself begin to relax. Until that moment, with the warm sun just beginning to slip toward the west and a gentle breeze blowing across my face, I hadn’t realized how much I needed to get out of my condo. True, I’d gone to model in my sister’s show, but that wasn’t quite the same thing, since I’d first been cooped up in her workspace getting pins stuck in me, and then had been at the warehouse in Santa Monica working the show itself.
“Better?” Silas asked.
I blinked, and realized he’d been looking across the table at me, his gaze steady. Those dark eyes met mine for a moment, and then I lifted my shoulders and smiled, a smile that probably wasn’t terribly convincing. Oh, it wasn’t that I didn’t feel better. I did. But I realized it was getting more and more difficult to act normal around him, to pretend that his presence didn’t affect me in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible a few days earlier.
“Yes, better,” I replied. Because it was too awkward to maintain the eye contact, I turned away and made a show of rummaging in my purse for my sunglasses. I set them on my nose and added, “It’s bright out here. I’m not used to it.”
“I suppose it is.” Maybe that was the faintest suggestion of one eyebrow lifting, as if he wasn’t quite sure he believed my excuse, but he didn’t call me on it.
And in the next moment, we were interrupted by the waitress, who brought our iced teas and then asked if we knew what we wanted. I promptly ordered the Dianne salad, because it had been a while since I’d had one. Silas hadn’t even glanced at the menu, but he asked for the same thing, probably so he wouldn’t hold up the show.
After the waitress was gone, he picked up his iced tea and squeezed the lemon into the glass. A brief glance around, as if making sure that no one seated in the outdoor area could overhear what we were saying. Not much chance of that, as by that point only two couples remained sitting there, both of them on the far side of the area designated for al fresco dining.
“And your sister?”
“All quiet on the western front, as far as I can tell.” I sipped some iced tea through the straw provided. Even though I’d slept well, right then I thought I needed the extra boost of caffeine. “She was not happy when I told her my story about Lucius coming on to me before he ended up with her.”
“No, I suppose she wouldn’t be. That sort of thing must be a blow to the ego.” Silas straightened in his chair. The metal legs scraped against the concrete ground, and I tried to keep from cringing at the sound. “But the real question is, did she believe you?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. But it doesn’t really matter, because even if she did believe me, deep down, what I said didn’t deter her one bit. It sounds like she’s determined to work with Mr. Montfort. I hoped she’d get angry…which she did, only at me rather than him.” I didn’t quite sigh, but I did let out a small breath before I took another pull on my straw. “So I think that plan bac
kfired.”
“It’s all right. While I don’t think she’s in any immediate danger, I asked someone to watch over her.”
That news made me raise an eyebrow. “So now she has a guardian angel, too?”
“In a manner of speaking. That is, this is someone who will look out for her, but he won’t make himself known. There won’t be any direct interventions unless absolutely necessary.”
I thought of the way Silas had “directly intervened” to save me from that semivive, and tried to imagine my sister’s reaction if something so completely outside her experience happened to her. One might say I was already primed to be more accepting of the supernatural, simply because the experience of my visions had taught me that the world was a much stranger place than most people believed. But Vanessa was so down-to-earth, so hard-headed in her own way, that I really didn’t know what she would do.
It wouldn’t come to that, though. Whoever was looking after her, he was just a safeguard, “a break glass in case of emergency” sort of thing. What I sincerely hoped was that she’d gracefully move on from Lucius the same way she’d moved on from every other man in her life.
Except for the minor little detail of them all being men, not vampires. Not unnatural creatures intent on an end game I couldn’t begin to imagine.
A feeling of hopelessness began to rise in me, one I wished I could ignore. What happened to my expression because of it, I didn’t know, but Silas must have seen something in my face. He said, “It’s far too early to despair. Your sister is safe, and will remain that way. It’s entirely possible that Lucius will determine she has little worth as a point of leverage, and will give up that aspect of the game.”
“But not the game itself.”
“No,” Silas responded. His voice was calm, but I could see the way his jaw set slightly, the slightest furrowing of his forehead. The bright sunlight showed all too clearly the line between his brows. Not that I minded. I liked that he wasn’t some perfect pretty boy. I’d had enough of that with Travis. Voice lowering, Silas went on, “I fear he won’t give that up easily. Which is why I am here with you.”
Falling Dark Page 14
