Kylian and Brett

by Edward Kendrick

  “Like the Justice League or S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

  Kylian chuckled. “A comic book fan, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Are you?”

  Waggling his hand, Kylian replied, “Sort of, although none of us are superheroes.”

  “Cool.”

  Emile returned, telling them he’d talked with his captain. “It took a bit of convincing, but he agreed that getting Jamie out of town for the time being might not be a bad idea.” ::And then you and I will find Arden and deal with him:: he added, mind speaking to Kylian.

  Kylian gave a sharp nod in reply to Emile’s private comment before saying, “Good. Todd, Ronnie, get him on the next flight out to Atlanta—well, all of you—and set him up there.”

  “Will do,” Todd replied, taking out his phone. When he was finished, he told them, “We leave at five-fifteen, so we’d better get a move on.” With that said, he, Jamie, and Ronnie took off.

  “We should get out of here too, so you can finish your report and go home,” Kylian said to his brother, adding ::I’ll meet you at your house:: He turned to Brett, asking, “Do you need a ride?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind. I could walk, but right now I’m dead on my feet.”

  “I think we all are.” With a salute to Emile, Kylian led the way out of the squad room. When they were at the car, he asked Brett where he lived.

  Chapter 3

  “I live in Marigny,” Brett replied to Kylian’s question, giving him the address.

  After Kylian pulled the car out into what was now early morning traffic, Brett studied him. Then he blurted out what had been at the top of his mind since he’d overheard Kylian’s mental conversation with Emile. “What are you? What is Emile?”

  Kylian looked at him with apparent surprise. “What do you mean?”

  Brett barely smiled. “You and your brother…I heard what you said to him.” He tapped his forehead. “I guess you forgot to block. Or maybe you couldn’t when you were talking to him?”

  “Forgot,” Kylian admitted wryly, keeping his eyes on the road. “So I can mentally talk to my brother. Why is that so surprising?”

  “It’s not that you can. It’s what you said to him. To the best of my knowledge, and I’ll admit it comes from watching werewolf movies and TV shows, a shifter is someone who can, well, shift from human to animal and back. I’ve always thought they were the product of someone’s overactive imagination—” Brett looked hard at Kylian, “—until tonight.”

  Kylian sucked in a breath. “I wish I could tell you that is all they are.”

  “But you can’t. So—”

  “Let’s put this on hold until we get to your place.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting your brother at his house?”

  “Damn, you overheard everything. Kind of nosy of you.”

  “It’s not my fault you were broadcasting loud and clear.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you that,” Kylian replied. “I’ll call him to let him know I’m going to be late.” He glanced at Brett. “You seem to be awfully calm about all this.”

  “I guess I’m still taking it in.” Brett grinned. “I’ll panic later.”

  Kylian nodded as he pulled up in front of the building where Brett lived and turned the car off. After they were on the sidewalk, Brett took out his keys to unlock the front door. “I’m on the second floor,” he told Kylian, leading him up the flight of stairs at one side of the lobby.

  When they were inside Brett’s place, Kylian commented, “I’d say you have the whole second floor, from the look of it.”

  “I do,” Brett agreed.

  The space was broken into three areas by partitions that stopped a foot and a half from the ceiling. One area contained the living room and kitchen. The second was Brett’s studio and the third, his bedroom. “Have a seat,” he said, waving to the sofa and chairs in front of a fireplace. “I’d offer you coffee but this isn’t a social situation.”

  Kylian chuckled, taking one of the chairs. Brett sat on the sofa, unsure how to proceed. Finally he said, “Am I right in thinking you’re…maybe a shifter?”

  “No,” Kylian replied succinctly.

  “But you’re not human.”

  “No.”

  “Quit playing games,” Brett retorted, wondering if he was going insane, or if Kylian was the crazy one—which for some reason he doubted.

  “Sorry,” Kylian replied, sounding as if he meant it. “I’m an elf.”

  Brett almost laughed. “Uh-huh. Where’s your cute little hat and pointed shoes? And speaking of points, what about your ears?” He realized as he said that, he hadn’t actually seen Kylian’s ears. They were always hidden under his long, black hair.

  With a smile, Kylian pushed his hair back. While his ears didn’t look like those depicted in books and movies about elves, they were definitely much more pointed than a human’s.

  Brett hissed in a breath. “They’re real? I mean, not the result of some sort of strange plastic surgery.”

  “Quite real.”

  “So both you and your brother are elves? What about Todd and Ronnie?”

  “Emile is half elf, half human, since his mother was human. Todd’s a wolf shifter and Ronnie’s a fox.”

  Brett snorted, saying, “She’s definitely foxy,” even though what they were discussing wasn’t funny. “I think I’m glad you’re an elf. I don’t know if I could handle watching someone turn into an animal in front of my eyes.”

  “It can certainly weird you out the first time it happens.”

  Brett nodded, trying to absorb everything. Is he really telling me the truth, or is this some sort of sadistic game?

  “It’s the truth, Brett. I swear it is.”

  “Damn. How do I learn to block my thoughts from you?”

  Kylian laughed. “Practice. Lots and lots of practice. Maybe sometime we can work on that.”

  “I’d appreciate…What do you mean sometime? Do you really plan on keeping in touch after tonight—or I guess morning, now.”

  “Perhaps. I’ll have to think about it. Of course, you might wish I wouldn’t.”

  “Why? As you said, I’m nosy. I’d like to find out more about you. Umm, about elves.” Brett glanced toward his studio, and grinned. “I could come up with a whole new series of paintings—fantasy ones. But I’d need to pick your brain, first.”

  As Kylian stood, he said, “If you’re thinking we live like something out of Lord of the Rings or what have you, you’re sadly mistaken. Other than the fact we’re a different species, we exist the way anyone else does. The only time I’ve used a bow and arrows was when a friend of mine decided to take up bow hunting and dragged me along. Back when I was born, they were rarely used to fight battles, due to the evolution of guns.”

  “How long ago was that?” Brett asked, curious to know exactly how old Kylian was. If he’s not gaming me.

  “In the fifteen-hundreds,” Kylian replied as he started toward the door. “We can discuss this again tomorrow, if you wish. Right now, Emile and I have a Slayer to take care of.”

  “If you can find him,” Brett pointed out. “So far, he’s been very elusive.”

  “True. But now we know who he is, which gives us an edge. I’ll call you tonight, maybe, if that’s all right with you.”

  “I’m good with that. Be careful. Okay?”

  Kylian nodded. “Planning on it.”

  After Kylian had left, a wave of exhaustion washed over Brett. This has been one hell of a night. Even though I didn’t do anything terribly physical, I still feel like I’ve run a marathon.

  He undressed quickly and fell into bed, opting not to shower until he got up. He was asleep moments later, only to dream of elves, and men turning into wolves, all dressed in medieval clothing, but using modern weapons as they fought one another. In one particularly vivid dream, Kylian was doing battle with a half-wolf half-man with huge claws and long fangs. Brett woke in a sweat just as the wolf-man leapt, going for Kylian’s throat. He prayed his dre
am wasn’t prophetic.

  * * * *

  “If you were Arden, where would you go to ground?” Kylian asked soon after arriving at Emile’s house.

  “He’s got a whole damned city to hide in,” Emile replied. “Or anywhere else in the country when it comes down to it. It would be nothing for him to live in the northwest and teleport down here when the killing rage took over.”

  “The question is, why here?” Kylian murmured as he paced the living room in Emile’s house.

  “Our bad luck?” Emile smiled dryly before returning his attention to the map on his computer. “There has to be a pattern. The problem is, we haven’t found it yet.”

  “Show me,” Kylian said, coming over to look at the map. “What order did he hit them?”

  “Lafayette Two, St. Louis Two, and St. Mary. Then Lafayette One and now St. Louis One.”

  “St. Mary is the odd man out,” Kylian commented. “You have two number twos, and two number ones. What are the chances there’s a second St. Mary Cemetery?”

  Emile Googled it then shook his head. “There isn’t.”

  “Okay.” Kylian resumed pacing. “Here’s a thought,” he said a few moments later. “See if there’s another, maybe older name for this St. Mary.”

  “Damn,” Emile said after checking. “It’s also called Carrollton Two, and there’s a Carrollton One which used to be, well still is, Green Street Cemetery. The designations have to do with the fact the city took over St. Mary and incorporated it into what was then Carrollton Cemetery.” He shook his head. “Confusing as hell, but there you have it.”

  “Then Green Street may be his next kill site. Are these the only cemeteries that are numbered?”

  “There’s also St. Louis three. And two St. Roch cemeteries, but he didn’t leave a body at number two, so I’d say he’s not using them.”

  Kylian nodded slowly. “Arden always got off on solving the more puzzling aspects of a crime when he was working for me.” He sighed. “Before he went off the deep end after he lost his wife and blamed me for what happened.”

  “Then went rogue.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Did he know I was on the force down here?” When Kylian nodded, Emile said, “That answers the question of why he picked New Orleans. He probably figured I’d bring you in on this, the son of a bitch.”

  “He is that,” Kylian agreed. “Literally as well as figuratively.”

  “Smartass,” Emile muttered.

  Kylian chuckled, then said, “That means he’s creating this puzzle, for lack of a better word, to pique my interest. Since he’s timed his kills three days apart, that doesn’t give us much time. They’ve always been prostitutes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where does he find them?”

  “The clubs along Bourbon.”

  “And they were all redheads, you said.”

  Emile nodded. “Not necessarily naturally red hair, but yeah.”

  Kylian finally settled on the sofa, ideas whirling through his mind. “I could cast a glamour to look like one, but it’s a crap shoot that he’d pick me for his next victim.”

  “Definitely,” Emile agreed. “And being a shifter, he can grab whoever he wants and be gone before anyone realizes what’s happened. At least we know Green Street will undoubtedly be the next place he’ll leave a body.”

  “True. And, he knows we’ll figure that out. It’s why he laying down a trail, so to speak, in this game he’s playing, including not killing the latest victim until he had her in the cemetery. He wants me there, and may have purposely let Jamie see him.”

  “Possible,” Emile agreed. “You’re not going to be there without backup,” he said firmly. “I’ll have my men staking out the cemetery.”

  “Of course, since he’d smell a set-up if you didn’t. Can you get me a street view of the cemetery?”

  Emile did, commenting, “There aren’t that many places where I could put men inside without his seeing them.”

  “Seeing? Hell, he’d sense them. Don’t forget, he’s a shifter. On the other hand…Yeah, that could work. Do you think I’d make a good angel?”

  Emile laughed. “Maybe. But where?”

  “Here,” Kylian replied, tapping one of the few large family vaults in the cemetery. “A couple of the others are topped with angels. If I was on top of this one, using a glamour to make me look like just another piece of statuary, I’d see him as soon as he landed.”

  “And deal with him before he knows your there.” Emile frowned. “If he can sense my people, are you sure he won’t know you’re there?”

  “I’m old enough I can maintain a glamour and mask my physical presence at the same time. As soon as he teleports in, I’ll see him and cast a hold spell to start with. Then paralyze and cloaking ones so I can get him, and his victim, away without your men being aware he was even there. After that, it’s just a case of eliminating him.”

  “How?”

  “I think—drowning. Quick and relatively painless, even though he deserves much worse. Do it in the river, and sooner or later his body will surface.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Emile shut down the computer then suggested they both get some sleep. “I’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours. If I don’t sleep, I’ll be a basket case.”

  Kylian laughed. “Like you aren’t one already?”

  Emile flipped him off as they went upstairs, Emile to his bedroom, Kylian to the guest room he was using while he was in the city.

  Chapter 4

  Brett woke a few minutes before noon, wondering if Kylian would call as he’d promised.

  Probably not. He’s got a killer to catch. Once that’s over, twenty-to-one he goes back to Denver, since that’s where he said his headquarters are. He might call to say goodbye, and maybe thank me for my help, but that’s it.

  He got dressed, ate lunch, then went into his studio to resume work on a commissioned painting he was doing for a client—a portrait of her husband for his birthday.

  Maybe I’ll forego going to the Quarter tonight. I’m not sure I’m in the mood for people, and right now I really don’t need the money.

  He’d only been there the previous night because he’d wanted to take a break from painting and, as far as he was concerned, it didn’t hurt his bottom line to make a few extra dollars doing his sketches. They were something he enjoyed, and creating them entertained people, as well as making the recipients happy.

  Then I get pulled into a murder case. He still couldn’t believe it, or what happened next. I never thought Santa was real when I was a kid. Yet here I am, accepting that Kylian’s an elf. Un-be-lie-vable.

  It was close to six when he decided to call it quits on the painting. It was almost finished but he’d run out of the energy to do it justice. He cleaned his brushes, turned off the studio lights and went to make supper. Again, he wondered if Kylian was going to call.

  He’d just put a frozen dinner in the microwave when his phone rang. The number was out-of-state, and he didn’t recognize the name, so he almost didn’t answer—until it occurred to him he had no idea what Kylian’s last name was.

  “Wescott here,” Brett said.

  “Kylian here,” Kylian replied with a laugh. “Are you doing anything you can’t put on hold?”

  “I was going to nuke dinner, but I haven’t pushed the buttons yet. Why?”

  “I could use your help. I need to check something out, and I’d like a second pair of eyes, if you’re willing.”

  “Sure. Why not? When?”

  “Go ahead and eat. It’ll be half an hour before I can pick you up.”

  “Will do.” After hanging up, Brett heated his meal and ate. While he did, he wondered what he was getting himself into.

  Fifty minutes later he found out. But not until after Kylian parked his car a block from what he said was Green Street Cemetery and they were in the cemetery. During the ride over, Kylian had seemed reticent to talk about it, parrying Brett’s questions with ones of his own about h
ow Brett had become an artist.

  “It was the only thing in my life that gave me a sense of worth,” Brett replied, going on to explain that his father coached football at the local high school. “He wanted me on the team. Unfortunately, I may look like I should have been a linebacker, but I was more suited to being the water boy.” He smiled wryly. “That did not make my father happy, but he finally accepted sports were not my thing. I always liked to draw, so Mom suggested I take an art class. After that, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t easy, but I slowly began to make a name for myself. The portraits I do are…Well, as one critic put it, they’re a blend of realism and off-the-wall flashy. People like them, though, since I can capture the essence of the person I’m painting.”

  “By reading them?”

  “Yes. I know how they see themselves. What’s important to them—and what isn’t.”

  “Do your parents know you can read minds?”

  Brett snorted. “As I told you, my mother does. I’m not masochistic so no one else knows, because no one would believe it. Well, no one until I met you.”

  Kylian nodded. “Being different can be hard.”

  “Something you know first-hand.”

  “I do. Why did you start doing the sketches?”

  “I went through a dry spell,” Brett replied. “I needed money to pay the rent, so when a friend suggested I do the whole tourist thing in Jackson Square, I decided why not? A woman asked if I could do one of her son, from her description of him, I did, once I’d picked his image out of her mind. After that, I knew I had a good thing going when I needed extra cash. It’s a party trick, but, hell…” He spread his hands.

  Kylian nodded, glancing at him with an expression that made Brett wonder what he was thinking. He knew Kylian would be blocking his thoughts, so there was no sense in trying to read him.

  “I wasn’t being secretive when I didn’t answer your questions,” Kylian said a few minutes later, during the short walk from the car to the cemetery. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I didn’t want you to know what’s going on.”