Harvest Hunting

by Galenorn, Yasmine

  She motioned to my laptop. “Let’s see what the pictures have to tell us.”

  I could tell the guys were dying to ask questions, but with Menolly and Camille at my back, they’d have to leave me alone for now. I smoothly slid into position at the computer and flipped the switch. The first picture Morio had taken came up on the wall screen. He grabbed one of the barbecue skewers to use as a pointer, forgoing the mouse that I offered him.

  “Thanks, but I’ll do it the old-fashioned way.”

  We were looking at a house that could have been any other suburban ranch house—huge rambler that stretched across a third of the lot. Two stone walls formed the fence, but it wasn’t gated. The house looked reasonably clean, the yard was tended, but there was something I couldn’t put my finger on that bothered me.

  “Do you realize that the picture was taken in broad daylight, but the curtains are tightly closed? Look at that—not a crack in them. Seems odd, especially since the house has quite a bit of privacy.” Iris wandered over to the picture and cocked her head. “Windows are barred if you look closely.”

  Morio nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that. I didn’t want to chance going in there in fox form, but I managed to get close enough to see the bars on the windows. And you’re right—I’m almost certain someone was back there, watching out. I doubt if they noticed us. The house is across from a corner store—one of those old mom-and-pop type outfits. We parked there, and I slipped around with the camera while Vanzir and Roz made pointed entrances and exits from the store.” He motioned for me to click to the next image.

  Morio had been hiding in a thicket, with ivy fronds and ferns thrusting their way into the picture. We could see a side yard to the right of the house. A gate cordoned off the front yard from the back, and enough of the backyard showed to indicate several sheds back there, as well as a dog kennel. What looked like a very large Rottweiler was chained next to the kennel.

  “Friendly or dangerous?” Rottweilers could be either—depending on their owners. Actually, I thought, most dogs were like that. While some breeds had a predisposition to aggressive behavior, it was all in the breeding and training whether a dog ended up a lover or a fighter.

  “Oh, I can tell you right now, that dog is not a playmate. He could sense me, I think, and barked the whole time. I got as close as I dared, but if I moved forward any farther, I would have been in their yard instead of the neighbor’s. By the way, the neighboring house is for sale, there’s no one there, and we can get into the backyard without too much trouble. A lot of cover until you hit the fence, which is stone covered with ivy.”

  Vanzir cleared his throat. “While Morio was taking pictures around back, we were hanging out by the car. Saw a couple of lean guys come out of the house and drive off in a beat-up VW van. They looked thin but wiry and tough. Don’t underestimate them—they can probably throw some nasty punches.”

  “Do you think they’d risk hiding Doug and Saz in the house? If the guys are still alive, that is? They had to store them somewhere to hype them up before they . . .” I stopped, thinking again about Paulo’s remains. “Before they murder them and rip them apart.”

  “And if they’re holding Amber, could she be there, too? Yes, it’s a large rambler, but my guess is that this is where they live, not where they stash the bodies, so to speak,” Menolly said.

  “Only one way to find out,” I said. “Any more pictures?”

  Morio ran through three more, giving us a little more information on the layout of the neighborhood. “What it comes down to, though, is when we go in, I have no doubt somebody will be there. I’m worried that we might put Amber, Doug, and Saz’s lives in danger if we don’t do this right. Which is why we followed the van.”

  “I could kiss you for that,” I said, beaming at him. “But why didn’t you say so before and save us time?”

  “Every piece of the puzzle counts—every piece could be important. Better to go through this step by step than overlook some information and have somebody pay the price. And from now on, I think we need to keep that in mind. With Stacia putting out bounties on your heads, we can’t afford to be lax or stupid or lazy. Because one of these days, somebody tough enough and bad enough is going to come along and take up her offer and manage to snare one of you in a trap. We don’t want that to happen.”

  He let out a long sigh. “I drove. I’ll let Roz take over as to what we found. That’s why there are still pictures to look at. We took them along the way and when we got there.”

  “Got where?” Camille asked.

  “To a very unlikely compound,” Rozurial said as he took the pointer from Morio. “First, these dudes are good at hiding in plain sight. They aren’t coyote for nothing, I’ll tell you that.”

  The picture that flashed on the screen showed what looked like a warehouse down by the docks. Small, freestanding, but definitely a warehouse. The sign over the door read EMPORIUM MEATS, and a very realistic-looking delivery truck sat by the side.

  “Oh, please tell me they aren’t really selling meat. I’d hate to think where they got it and what they put in their hamburger,” Camille said.

  “Thank you so much for the visual, and no—they aren’t,” Roz countered. “My guess is that if you look in that truck, you’re going to find restraints and whatever else they need to transport very angry, very drugged male beta werewolves turned alpha.”

  “Perfect.” I stood, staring at the image. “They really have cloaked themselves in the middle of the city. What about the warehouse?”

  “Several entrances—standard front door. Big loading dock in back with doors on both sides. Morio scanned magically for traps, but we were too far away, and we couldn’t very well walk up there and ask. The parking lot in back is big enough for about twenty cars—we did some checking and found out that at one time this building did, indeed, house a slaughterhouse. So it’s got plenty of good setups inside for torture and tearing things apart.”

  “Then why would Van and Jaycee need to dissect the Weres at their house, if the warehouse had everything necessary?”

  “I can answer that,” Camille said. “Two reasons. One—magic. Pure and simple. Or rather, not so pure. Think of it as territory. Sorcerers—even witches and mages—all have personal magical signatures. Each of us radiates a unique footprint on the magical realm, and my guess is that the coyote energy may interfere with Van and Jaycee’s sorcery.”

  “And the second reason?”

  “From what we can tell, for some reason, they kept it from the shifters that they’re Demonkin. But the basement reeked of energy that—had I been a little more perceptive—would have told me just that fact. They wanted their privacy, and they didn’t want to be recognized. And that fact may have saved our butts, since their unwillingness to use the warehouse also seems to have been the one factor that prevented them from finding out about Amber and the spirit seal.”

  “So what next?” I asked.

  “As usual. Go in swinging and do our best not to get killed. There’s no way to know what’s going on in there without just charging in. Somehow I don’t think applying for a job at Emporium Meats is going to net us an invitation into their so-called factory.” Menolly rubbed her hands on the legs of her jeans. “I guess that’s all she wrote, ladies and gentleman. Shall we hit the streets?”

  “Wait a minute. Morio and Camille, you’ll both have to be very careful. Chances are they’ve got a nice little stash of Wolf Briar in there. And all bets are on that they’ll use it if they see us coming, in hopes of knocking at least a couple of us out. You two better go in on the tail end and wear masks. That won’t interfere with your spell casting, will it?” I frowned, hoping they’d say no.

  They didn’t make it easy.

  “Yeah, actually, it might,” Camille said. “The best we can do is go in at the back and run like hell if they let loose with that crap.”

  “Everybody get your weapons. We have to move, because if they haven’t killed Doug and Saz yet, you know they’re plannin
g to. And Amber—it’s anybody’s guess why—and for how long—they plan on keeping her alive.” I stood and stretched. We were headed into battle again, and each time, I always wondered if we’d all make it out alive.

  CHAPTER 19

  The Emporium Meats warehouse was down past the docks, in the Industrial District of Seattle. The warehouse sat smack in the middle of the wasteland existing past the ferry terminals, a mile or so north of Georgetown. Over the years, Georgetown and the surrounding area had taken on an almost schizophrenic quality. On one hand, charming, neo-bohemian shops and houses were scattershot through the district. On the other, gangs wandered the area, poverty seemed all too abundant, and the grittiness of the industry warehouses and factories, along with the train yard and tracks belonging to the BNSF Railway, lent an air of danger to the streets.

  As usual, we were taking two cars: my Jeep and Morio’s SUV. Menolly, Vanzir, and Roz were riding with me, while Trillian, Smoky, and Camille rode with Morio. I put in a call to Chase to meet us there.

  As we headed south on First Avenue, the streets were fairly clear. A few gangbangers—probably the Zeets—were hanging around, but the night was too wet and chilly for much outdoor activity. We passed the piers to the ferries on our right, and the back side of Pike Place Market on our left, and continued along past the Seahawks Stadium and Safeco Field, also on our left.

  As the streets wore along, the charm vanished, and the darker, seedier aspect set in. We zoomed along on the overpass leading over the BNSF train yard—a maze of tracks and boxcars in weathered pinks, greens, whites—all colors from so many different companies and places. The thought of being stuck down there, on foot, gave me the creeps.

  We weren’t just near gang territory but also vampire territory—and not vampires like Menolly, who did their best to keep themselves in check, but vampires like Dominick and Terrance, who led the cry for vamps to quit trying to assimilate and to create their own culture that didn’t try to mimic human culture.

  Menolly had been tossed out of Vampires Anonymous, the one group where she might have done some good against the fanged dangers, because Wade—the leader of the vampire self-help group—was afraid she’d spoil his bid on becoming regent over the Northwest Vampire Dominion. We hadn’t heard lately how his campaign was going, but I had the feeling next time they met, there would be hell to pay on his part.

  As the overpass glided back to street level, I pulled into a side parking lot shortly after we passed South Dawson Street. We were parked right next to the Emporium Meats warehouse.

  “Here we are. And it looks like we’re going to have company.” I nodded to the parking lot. There were at least five cars that we could reasonably assume belonged to the shifters.

  “Camille and crew are here,” Menolly said, as Morio’s SUV parked alongside my Jeep. “We’re too near Dominick’s for comfort.”

  “Not only that, but take a look across the street—there appears to be a new club in town,” Roz said.

  We glanced across the darkened road to the neon sign that glowed green. THE ENERGY EXCHANGE. Somehow, I didn’t think it was a pay station for Puget Sound Power and Light. No, with a name like that, the joint could dabble in several things, none of them registering good on my internal danger meter.

  “I don’t like the feel of that,” Menolly said. “But I don’t think it’s vampire.”

  “No, it’s not.” I slid out of the driver’s seat and stood there, staring at the glowing neon tubes. “There’s something . . .”

  Just then Morio and Camille wandered over, gazing at the club’s sign. “Sorcery. I can feel it.”

  “You think Van and Jaycee run that joint, too?” Seattle was becoming a scary place to live. Even as more and more Fae were drawn here, so it seemed were the lowlifes of the Supe world.

  “I doubt it, since they’re Tregart. But I bet they frequent it.” Camille glanced over her shoulder at the warehouse. “We’ll have to worry about this place later. We need to get into the warehouse and see if they’ve got Amber and the men.”

  “How we going to do this?” I considered the building. Morio was right—there was an entrance to either side, and the dock had its own door—as big as the entire loading bay. It operated like a garage door, and I wondered if there was a mechanism on the outer wall to open it.

  “My guess is they keep that locked from the inside,” Vanzir said, following my gaze. “But the side doors shouldn’t be hard to break through. The locks look old, and I doubt if they’ve bothered to buy new ones. After all, who would ever suspect them?”

  “Wilbur told me, when I escorted him home, that coyote shifters are arrogant. They never think anybody’s going to be able to keep up with their tricks. So let’s give the side door a try.” Roz gave me a little push and, in a bad Humphrey Bogart impression, said, “This is your department, doll. How’s about you go first?”

  I motioned Camille and Morio to the rear. “You two stay back there. We fight better without men down, and Camille sure doesn’t need to be caught by a flurry of Wolf Briar again. Menolly, you and Smoky up front with me. Vanzir and Roz, bring up the middle.”

  Grateful to the moody October night for the rich darkness that surrounded us, I led the way across the parking lot to the concrete steps, up to the walkway that ran the length of the warehouse. Briefly, I wondered if it curved around to the sides, but we didn’t have time to check it out. Not right now. I headed over to the left-side door and knelt beside it, flashing a penlight on the lock. It was old and looked like it hadn’t been used for some time.

  Gesturing for the rest of them to stay there, I tugged on Menolly’s arm, and we bent low, crossing to the right-side door. The lock on this one was oiled and rust-free. Yep, this was the door they used to enter the building. I’d bet the bank on it. Once again, we crossed back to the left, and I hurriedly whispered my thoughts to the others.

  “If we go in here, they won’t necessarily be expecting us. If we take the lesser-used route, we may buy ourselves time to root around without being caught. And while I expect we’re going to have a fight on our hands, I’d prefer to get in, grab Amber and the guys, and get out again before anybody catches us.”

  It wasn’t entirely true—I really wanted to pound the crap out of them, but hey, the less stress, the better. Why make waves that might attract Stacia if we could be sneaky? Granted, we weren’t good at sneaky, but we’d give it the old college try once again. Why I thought this time would be any different than usual, I didn’t know, but then again, I was always being accused of being an optimist.

  Camille nodded. “Good thought. Spring the lock.”

  I pulled out my picks and began mucking around with the lock. It was simple, no big-assed deadbolt, and it looked like the original that had come with the building. I took out my tension wrench, inserted it in the lock, then slid in the pick as I pressed my ear to the door and began working the pins.

  Click. Click. Click. The pins fell into place.

  Yeah, I was good at this. It occurred to me that between my glamour and my ability to pick locks, I might do better as a thief rather than a private investigator. Gods knew, I had few enough cases lately. Of course, if I spent more time advertising and hunting for clients, I’d be pulling in more work. Then I’d have to find the time to do it. Content to leave matters as they were, I finished jimmying the lock, and the latch sprang.

  “We’re good to go,” I whispered. “Just try to keep the noise level down.” I turned off my penlight and sucked in a deep breath.

  And then we headed inside.

  The door opened into a long passage that was dimly lit by flickering florescent tubes that ran the length of the hallway. We wouldn’t be able to hide in this light, but considering that the corridor was empty, right now it wasn’t a worry. I edged through the door, looking for traps, but the place was deserted. Motioning the others in, I glanced down the hall to make sure that we wouldn’t be surprised if somebody came around the bend. The corridor ended, turning to the righ
t, but between the turn and us were three doors to worry about—two on the left side and one on the right.

  As Morio closed the door behind us, I sucked in a deep breath and did my best to softly creep along the tiled floor. The tile hadn’t seen the end of a mop in a long, long time, and the dirt was ground in, years old by the look of it.

  When we came to the first door, this one on the left, I pressed my ear against the wood and listened.

  Nothing.

  I tried the knob, but the door was locked. Thinking that maybe one of these might lead to our missing Weres, I pulled out my pick set again. Two minutes later, the door was open, and we were staring into a room that had a desk and not much else. Except for one hell of a dust bunny problem.

  We moved on to the middle door on the right. This one was unlocked, so we listened carefully again, then I cracked it, ever so slightly, and paused. Nothing. No sound, no indication there was anybody in there. I eased the door open another few inches and peeked around the corner. The room was dark but full. Motioning for everybody else to wait outside, I tapped Menolly on the shoulder to follow me.

  Deciding to chance it, I pulled out my penlight and sent the narrow beam around the room. It was jammed full of boxes and bags of all sizes. Hmm . . . stockroom? I slid through two stacks of boxes and stopped to examine the lettering on one. It was fully sealed and was marked as containing canned peaches.

  “Peaches?” A quick gander around showed the rest of the boxes to be filled with tinned fruits, vegetables, tuna, peanut butter, and a number of other goods. “What, are they planning on this becoming their fallout shelter?”

  Menolly poked me in the ribs. “Shush. Who knows what they’re up to? But seriously, there’s enough food in this room to feed a family of four for a year.” She frowned. “They believe in some post-apocalyptic future or something?”