by Мишель Роуэн
"Parker."
She froze, then twisted around to face the man who had the starring role in most of her nightmares. "Yes,
sir?"
"In case you were thinking about failing again, know that to do so would displease me greatly."
"I understand."
"Do you?" His right hand slipped down into the drawer again, and he pulled out a photo, then placed it on the top of his desk. "Your own life may mean little to you, but should you disappoint me again, there are other punishments I can think of."
She drew closer to the desk and looked down at the surveillance photo of a pretty redhead, and her heart nearly stopped. It was her younger sister, Angela, who had disappeared five years ago, just after her eighteenth birthday. Janie had searched nonstop for over a year but found no clues as to where she'd gone. After that, she'd convinced herself Angela was dead, just like the rest of her family.
Her eyes flicked up to meet the evil ones of her boss from hell.
"Where is she?" Her voice was barely a gasp.
He spread his hands. "Bring me the Eye and we will discuss the matter further. Fail me and she will take your punishment. And I promise you, I will not be merciful. Do you understand?"
Janie fought back the stinging tears that threatened to escape. Shit. She hadn't cried in years, and she wasn't going to start now. Her lips thinned, and she nodded at the bastard with one jerk of her head. "I understand."
"By Friday at midnight, or you will watch your sister die."
She grabbed the photo and jammed it into her pocket, then stormed past the expressionless drones and out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She turned and braced herself against the wall and tried to remain calm. She grabbed her necklace and twisted it. She might try to act all tough, but she wore a memento of what she'd lost at all times. She and Angela had bought matching necklaces—a knotted, natural fiber chain that bore a large oval turquoise—years ago on vacation in Mexico when their entire family had been together and happy. The necklace wasn't fancy, and it didn't exactly go with most of her wardrobe, but she wouldn't trade it for diamonds and gold. She never took it off.
Her little sister was alive. The idea thrilled her and filled her with so much dread she couldn't contain it.
Her parents had died when she was a teenager. Her brother had abandoned her to become a vampire hunter, until he'd gotten himself killed a couple months ago. She'd thought she was all alone in the world.
Sure as hell had felt like it. Maybe that's why she'd latched on to the loser who'd roped her into working for the Company to begin with—some misplaced need to belong somewhere.
The penalty for failure was huge. But the payoff was even bigger if she was successful. And how couldn't she be? It was just a regular retrieval. She was one of the best at that. She'd grab her current partner,
Lenny, and the two of them would leave immediately for Arizona .
She'd kill a hundred nasty vampires for the chance to find out where her sister was.
One little vampire wouldn't be any problem at all.
Chapter 2
As Quinn drove along the seemingly endless historic Route 66, he went over the plan in his mind. It wouldn't be simple, but it would work.
But first he had to take care of something.
He glanced at Barkley, who had rolled down the window all the way and was letting the wind whip through his shaggy black hair. His eyes were closed, and he had a look of complete bliss on his face.
First he'd unload the werewolf. Barkley would only slow him down.
Barkley thought Quinn's motives for agreeing to drive him across the country to rejoin his pack were completely altruistic. Barkley didn't have a driver's license. He was also deathly afraid of airplanes. He'd assumed that Quinn needed a change of scenery—to clear his head and get used to his new status as a reluctant vampire. And what better way than to take part in a road trip across the country?
Right.
But driving Barkley home was only part of the reason for his trip to Arizona . The letter in his pocket was the other reason.
The letter had been sent by his father's best friend and hunting buddy, Malcolm Price, eight years ago, and it arrived only days after Malcolm had been murdered. It contained information that pinpointed the location where the Eye was buried, right there in Arizona in a place called Goodlaw .
The Eye was a magical artifact. Legend told that it once belonged to a powerful demon who was vanquished a thousand years ago; the Eye itself was hidden away by those whose worship of the demon had turned to fear for their tribe's safety. Should the Eye be found, the legend continued, it would grant one wish to whoever possessed it. Roger Quinn had searched obsessively for the relic and met with only failure, and he had quit his search in frustration after many long years.
Malcolm, when alive, had surmised that the timing was off. That the Eye would reveal itself only after a thousand years. Before that time had transpired, it would be a waste of time to even attempt to find it.
But according to Malcolm's eight-year-old letter, it was the right time now .
"Almost there," he said, turning down the radio that was set to a seventies rock-and-roll station—Led
Zeppelin leading into early Van Halen .
Barkley pulled in the half of his body currently outside of the Ford rental and rolled up the window.
"Great." He didn't sound terribly enthusiastic.
Quinn eyed him. "What's wrong?"
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. It's all good." He let out a sigh that sounded very shuddery.
"I thought you wanted to go back to your pack."
"I do. Really. I do. Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? It's my duty."
"Right. Duty."
Barkley nodded. "I'm going to be Alpha."
"Yeah, so you were saying before. That's the leader, right?"
"Alpha wolf. Right. The leader."
"You know, I don't know all that much about werewolves." Quinn flicked his right turn signal on and exited the highway. "My specialty was vamps, of course. But I thought that you didn't simply become
Alpha—you had to fight your way to the top."
Barkley unrolled his window a few inches again. He was breathing unsteadily. "Yup, that's right."
"So you have to fight somebody?"
He nodded and cleared his throat. "To the death. A guy named Brutus. He's really big."
"You don't have to."
"Yeah, I do. In fact, I was set to fight him when I took off, turned wolf, and ran like hell."
"And you got stuck that way."
"Two long years." He scratched behind his ear. "Man, I think I still have a flea. Damn bloodsuckers. No offense."
"None taken." Quinn frowned. "I always thought turning into a werewolf had to do with the moon's cycle."
"Dude, I'm not a chick. I'm not on a monthly cycle.Weres normally can shift any time we want to, only it's true that during the full moon it becomes a little harder to resist. I don't know why I got stuck, but the moon didn't make any difference at all to me. Now, hopefully, I'm all back to my normal shifty self."
Quinn decided not to mention he used to hang out with a few guys who hunted werewolves. And they were very good at it.Weres could be an even bigger challenge than vamps. They ran faster, for one thing.
Also, they had a whole mouth of sharp teeth rather than just two fangs.
"When the fight's over," Barkley said, "and if I'm still breathing, I'm supposed to get hitched to the Alpha bitch."
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Alpha bitch?"
"A real ball buster . Name's Rosalyn." Another shudder went through him. "Gorgeous, but a real piece of work."
"And you're going back to the pack because ?"
"There comes a time in every man's life when he has to face his destiny." Barkley let out a long breath.
"This is my time."
"Well, that's good to hear."
"Why's that?"
"Because we're here."
He
could have sworn he heard a whimper.
It was a very small town named, perhaps not coincidentally,Wolfington . Surrounded by desert, with a few cactuses scattered here and there, it looked like a modern version of an Old West town. Quinn watched and waited for a tumbleweed to roll past the car and was a little disappointed when there was nothing.
Barkley cleared his throat. "Home sweet home. I guess you can drop me off up by that hardware store.
My father owned that."
"Was he Alpha, too?"
There was a long pause. "He tried. It didn't go too well."
Quinn cringed at that. "Why were you chosen to be next in line?"
"It was predicted. There are these old, hairy women whose job it is to predict things. I predicted it, too,
in a dream."
"The psychic thing." Quinn said blandly.
Barkley was convinced that he was a werewolf who possessed second sight. Quinn, while he'd seen many unusual things in his thirty years, did not fully believe in psychics. It wasn't tangible enough for him.
For something unusual, he had to see it with his own two eyes. And Barkley hadn't done anything yet to convince him otherwise.
"Yeah." Barkley turned to Quinn and frowned. "You know, I was never able to get a read on you.
Vampires are kind of like a psychic blank slate."
"Thanks."
"Trust me, it can come in handy."
"I'll remember that."
"You know, it's funny. I've been having this dream the past couple of days. I never even thought it might be precognitive."
"About me?"
"Not unless you're a gorgeous redhead in her early twenties who looks great in a black cocktail dress."
Quinn eyed him sideways. "No, that probably wouldn't be me."
"Didn't think so." He glanced out of the window. "Where are you off to now?"
Quinn shrugged and tried to appear at ease when he felt anything but. "I have an old friend around this area. I think I might look him up while I'm here."
It wasn'ttoo much of a lie. It was an old friend of his father's, currently deceased, and Quinn would follow the directions he'd written in the letter, because that's where the Eye allegedly could be found.
"Good luck to you." Barkley held out his hand, and Quinn shook it.
"You, too. You know, you don't have to fight. There are other options."
"Facing my destiny, man."
"I hope you find it."
Barkley got out of the car and grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat. Since he'd been stuck in werewolf form for so long, he didn't have many possessions. Some clothes he'd borrowed. A new toothbrush. A brand-new forged passport. But that was about it.
"Matthew Barkley? Is that really you?" a voice called from down the block.
Quinn nodded at Barkley and pulled away from the curb. He actually felt a lump in his throat, for some strange reason. They'd been traveling together for three days, and he had to admit that he actually enjoyed the guy's company. Somebody to talk to who was able to make him laugh, and who he was fairly assured wouldn't try to put a wooden stake through his chest at the earliest convenience.
No, Barkley belonged there. It was his home. His, as he'd said,destiny . Now Quinn had to go find his own.
He took a last glance in the rearview mirror to see a group of four men approaching Barkley. The Wolfington welcoming committee.
Barkley took a step forward and—Quinn frowned—he threw his duffel bag at the men. Then he turned and began running very fast after Quinn's car.
What the hell?
Quinn turned to look over his shoulder. Yes, Barkley was running after him and wildly flailing his arms with a distinctly panicked expression on his face. Two of the men who'd come out to greet him began to pursue the fleeing werewolf, and they didn't look friendly.
Some welcoming committee.
He applied pressure to the brakes and pressed the button to roll down the passenger window. Barkley thundered up beside the car after a moment, breathing hard.
"Problem?" Quinn asked.
Barkley looked behind him, yelped, and then yanked open the door so he could throw himself inside the car. "Drive!" he yelled. "Just drive!"
Quinn slammed his foot down on the accelerator and drove. After a minute, the large men running after them became no more than pissed-off specks in the distance.
Quinn turned to Barkley and raised his eyebrow. "Facing your destiny not all it's cracked up to be?"
"They were going to kill me," Barkley panted. "Right there. They weren't even going to let me fight
Brutus."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I… I think they thought I was dead already. Maybe I should have called first and let them know I was coming back."
"But that doesn't explain why they want you dead."
He shook his head. "Dude, all I saw were silver knives and I ran. Those guys were Brutus's men. I'm not going back there." He let out a long breath. "I guess you're stuck with me for a while longer."
Quinn kept his eyes on the road. "So now what?"
Barkley leaned back in the seat until his breathing slowed down to normal. "Now I guess I'll come with you to see your friend. You don't mind my company for a bit longer, do you?"
"Uh. I don't think that's a very good idea."
"Sure it is. Listen, let's stop for something to eat first. Running for my life works up an appetite. If I remember correctly, there's a roadside diner about ten minutes west of here that serves the best hamburger in the state. You hungry?"
"I don't eat."
"Oh, yeah." He frowned. "You know, I haven't seen you drink any blood lately, either. Do you do it in private? Like a secret Twinkie obsession? You can drink in front of me if you want to. It doesn't gross me out."
Quinn glanced at him sideways. "I haven't… drunk anything for a few days. The thought of drinking blood makes me sick."
"I did think you were starting to look a little gaunt. So, what are you? Like, a vampire anorexic, or something?"
"I will drink when I have to, but not before."
"Okay, okay. You do what you have to do. But can we stop for lunch so I can eat something?"
Quinn clenched his jaw and stared at the road ahead. Fine. They'd stop at the diner, and as soon as he was sure that Barkley was safe from his old friends, he'd take off. He'd leave some money so the werewolf could get a lift with somebody else.
He felt a twist of guilt in his gut but knew he couldn't back down now. It had to be done, and the sooner the better.
The Stardust Diner, as the sign read when they arrived, would be the last stop on the Quinn and Barkley phase of his quest for the Eye.
"The Stardust Diner? You're sure this is the right place?"
Janie showed her partner, Lenny, the piece of paper the Boss had given her for, like, the eightieth time that day as they pulled up alongside the restaurant.
"Stardust," Lenny said it again. "Like the Frank Sinatra song. I love that song."
Lenny was six-foot-five and built like a linebacker. His hair was cut so short his scalp could be seen through the dark stubble, and he had a crooked nose that had been broken multiple times in his life. He wore a black leather jacket and Doc Marten boots, and he could scare little children with one look.
He also had the soul of a poet. A bad poet.
And unfortunately, he had a massive crush (unrequited) on Janie and wrote a great deal of that bad poetry about her.
They'd been working together for almost a year. She'd recently requested a change in partners, but the
Company took its own sweet time when it came to things like that.
She turned around in the black Mustang convertible to check the back seat.
Five wooden stakes. Check.
Two silver daggers. Check.
Stun gun. Check.
Gun with garlic darts that worked as a tranquilizer to temporarily knock out any unsuspecting vamps.
Check.
Her favorit
e gun—a sturdy and reliable Firestar with silver bullets for the werewolf companion. Check.
She decided to carry the gun with silver bullets. The bullets would work on vamp or werewolf. She turned around to grab it and put it in the shoulder holster under her new navy blue Anne Klein jacket and added two wooden stakes and the stun gun to her designer handbag arsenal, just in case. As a last thought, she added the gun withtranq darts. It would weigh her down a bit, but a girl could never be well armed enough when it came to fighting monsters.
"How will we know who they are?" Lenny asked, scanning the area of the diner.
It was a good question. The Stardust Diner was a busy location, right next to the heavily traveled highway. A good place to grab lunch or take a bathroom break while on the way to one's final destination. Vamps and weres could easily blend in with regular humans, and the Boss hadn't given her a heads-up on their appearance.
It was noon. She knew that sunlight didn't bother vamps, contrary to the popular myth. Most could go out at any time of the day or night. Usually they were a little weaker during daylight hours and also quite sun sensitive, so they could typically be spotted wearing sunglasses even on an overcast day. But today the sun was blazing bright in the sky and everyone in the area wore sunglasses. No help there.
Vampires definitely didn't have reflections. That might be a clue. The diner was surrounded by windows that reflected the surroundings.
She twisted her turquoise necklace until her fingers felt numb. "Just watch for anything out of the ordinary."
"So when we find them, you want me to beat any information out of them?"
She shook her head. "Too many witnesses. Let me handle it, and you be there for backup. The note said they'd be here by now, so keep your eyes peeled."
"While we're waiting, you want to hear my latest?" Lenny flipped through his ever-present notebook.
"Not particularly."
"Oh, come on."
She sighed. It's not as if he ever took no for an answer. Why did she even bother trying to resist?
He cleared his throat. "It's called 'Janie's Got a Gun':
