by Lisa Edmonds
I was doubled over in the passenger seat, coughing, when Sean pulled his door open.
“Do you need the tank?” he asked.
I shook my head. He climbed into the SUV, shut his door, and waited while I coughed.
When I was able to get a breath, I said hoarsely, “You can head out. You don’t have to wait.”
“I’m going to wait until I know that you don’t need the tank or other medical attention. I don’t want to be in the middle of traffic when you need help.”
It took a while for the coughing to subside. Finally, I huddled in my seat, exhausted and short of breath.
Sean took my hand. “I heard you coughing in the shower earlier, too. You should be in bed, recovering.”
“I can’t do that,” I rasped. “We’re close, Sean; I can feel it. If we can find Travers or Andrews, we’ll get information about the blue van. Brody is working for the harnad, or they’ve got their hooks in him somehow. We get to them through him, or through West directly.” Magic sparked on my fingers. “We’re going to make them pay for what they’ve done.”
“Yes, we will. And then we’ll take a good, long vacation on a beach somewhere and leave all this behind for a while.”
I blinked at him. “You want to take a vacation with me?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” He waved his free hand in front of us. “Picture it: a whole week in a hut on the beach, no one else in sight. Gentle ocean breezes, blue sky, palm trees, and perfect sand. And you in a bikini…” His eyes went gold.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, sure. As soon as this is over, we’ll go.”
“I’m serious.”
I stared at him. “No, you aren’t. You’re just trying to distract me from coughing.”
“I am completely serious. Five days on a beach of your choice.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t take that kind of time off.”
“I haven’t had a vacation in years. My business partner is practically begging me to take one.”
“Well, I can’t. I’ve got bills to pay and I don’t have a company full of people to cover for me while I’m gone. I’m a one-woman show.”
“Your paycheck from the Court will more than cover your expenses for a little while,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have a pretty good idea what the vamps pay. So what’s the real reason you don’t want to go on vacation with me?”
“Sean, we really don’t have time to talk about this right now. We’ve got a case to solve and people to save.”
“We’ve got a half-hour drive to the office. Why not plan a vacation?”
“Because I want to plan how we’re going to find that warehouse and get those people out and make sure everyone in the harnad gets what they deserve.”
“Fine, but when this case is in the books, I am going to ask you again.” He headed down the driveway. “I bet you look pretty fantastic in a bikini. Or out of a bikini.” He grinned. “We could get a private beach. Swimsuits would be optional.”
Despite myself, I smiled. Then I pictured Sean walking out of the water sans swim trunks, swallowed wrong, and started coughing again.
Sean started to pull to the side of the driveway, but I got the coughing under control and waved him on. “I’m good,” I croaked. “I could use some water.”
“On the floor behind you,” he said.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and got on my knees on the seat, bending over to reach into the cooler. The SUV hit a big bump. When I glanced over my shoulder, Sean was checking out my ass. “Hey! Eyes on the road!”
I grabbed two bottles of water, reseated myself, and gave him a dirty look. He grinned unrepentantly as I buckled my seatbelt and passed him a water.
“So, how are we going to find the warehouse where they’re keeping the survivors?” Sean asked as we turned out onto the main road.
“We’ve got some options. We can try to shake it out of Brody, we can hope West’s tagged car leads us there, or we can ask Malcolm to look for it.”
“How could Malcolm find it?”
“It’s got some very distinctive wards around it. It’s a big area to search, but he can move pretty fast.”
“Plus, it would keep him busy and away from you in case that demon comes back.”
I went silent.
“That wasn’t judgment,” Sean said, turning onto the highway on-ramp and accelerating. “I understand why you want to keep him safe.”
“But you don’t agree.”
“If you’re asking me if you should tell Malcolm about your demon problem, then my answer is yes.”
“There are still surviving victims who need rescuing. I think Malcolm’s help is better utilized looking for that warehouse.”
“You could explain the situation and let him choose. You said you don’t give him orders, that he has choices, despite being a bound ghost.”
I bristled. “I don’t give him orders.”
“If you don’t tell him about the demon and you just tell him about the warehouse, you aren’t giving him a choice, and that’s no better than giving an order.”
I crossed my arms and stared out the window.
“Am I right?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
“So are you going to tell him about the demon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he’ll stay with you if you do, or go look for the warehouse?”
“I don’t know.”
A pause. “Do you want more coffee?”
“What do you think?”
“I think we’re gonna need a bigger mug.”
When we arrived at Maclin Security, Sean parked the SUV and turned to me. “You want to come in, get the fifty-cent tour?”
I shook my head. I disliked being the center of attention under the best of circumstances, and the thought of being shown around by the owner and introduced to his business partner and employees made me queasy. “You go on. I’m going to catch up on some texts.”
“I’ll be back in a minute, then.” Sean left the engine running and got out.
When he was out of sight in the building, I coughed for a few minutes, then drank some water and checked my text messages. I deleted the ones from Lake and set it up so any future calls from him went straight to voice mail.
Kim Dade texted me addresses for Jake’s sister Hailey and John’s girlfriend Amy, and said she was working on compiling a dossier on Brody. I thanked her and asked her to send the information when it was ready.
Sean still wasn’t back, so I went online to check the news. The bombing of Hawthorne’s was the big headline, but it was only one of numerous attacks on vamp-owned businesses overnight. A few arrests had been made, but the protests continued across the city and up at Northbourne. I watched news footage of what was happening at the headquarters of the Vampire Court. Security had activated the retractable barriers in front of the entrance after someone tried to smash through the gate with a delivery truck.
When Sean got back, he was carrying a small black case. “Is that the tracker?” I asked.
He got in, put the case under his seat, and shut the door. “Two of them, in case we need to tag Brody’s car too. Where to first?”
“Let’s go see Malcolm.”
Our drive to West’s office building took us through downtown, where we got to see the protests in front of city hall and the main police building. The gathering in front of the latter was the larger of the two. One man carried a large sign with a photo of a vamp who had been burned alive. The caption read Burn Em All. I felt sick.
When we got to West’s building, I had Sean park in the lot, away from West’s car. I closed my eyes and summoned Malcolm. It was far less difficult after I’d had a decent amount of sleep and actual food.
The ghost entered the SUV a few seconds later. “Hey, Alice. Hey, Sean. Long time no see,” he greeted us, his voice coming from the back seat.
“What’s up, Malcolm?” Sean asked.
“Just another day of doing ghost stuff,” he sa
id cheerily. “Hey, you guys finally hooked up again. Good for you.”
I sputtered. Sean grinned.
“You’ve got shifter trace in your aura, Alice,” Malcolm pointed out. “Only one way that happens.”
Sean looked smug, for some reason. Magic sparked on my fingertips.
“I guess before Alice fries both of us, I should probably ask why you’re here,” Malcolm said.
“We’re adjusting our surveillance strategy,” Sean told him. “We’re putting a tracker on West’s car and offering you a different job.”
A pause. When Malcolm spoke again, his voice had lost its levity. “Why did you need vamp blood, Alice?” He must have sensed its trace. “And what’s up with this oxygen tank back here?”
As Sean got the trackers out and synced them to his phone, I told Malcolm about the anti-vamp protests and the bombing at Hawthorne’s.
The ghost was quiet for a long time.
“Malcolm?” I prompted.
“Give me a minute,” was the caustic reply. “I’m processing the fact my best friend almost died last night and I’m just now hearing about it.”
I was too stunned to respond at first. I thought about protesting that I hadn’t had a chance to let him know what had happened before now, but then realized that not only was that not true, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I needed to tell him, until it was part of explaining why we were changing the way we were tailing West.
Yes, this whole caring-about-people thing was new to me, and I’d spent the first twenty-four years of my life learning the hard way not to volunteer information about myself, but that wasn’t an excuse and I knew it.
And he’d called me his best friend. My eyes stung. “I am an asshole,” I said.
“Your words.” He sounded pissed.
I glanced at Sean. He was looking studiously at the tracker app on his phone, so no help there.
“And why am I sensing two different vamp traces?” the ghost demanded. “I sense Charlie’s blood and someone else’s, someone older.”
“Please don’t call Charles ‘Charlie,’” I said.
“Alice.”
I rubbed my face. “There was an incident the day before yesterday. You remember what I told you about Adam’s visions of the warehouse where they’re keeping the survivors?”
“Yes.”
“I saw them too. He grabbed my arm. I needed healing after and a vamp named Niara provided it.”
Silence.
I threw up my hands. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I am terrible about telling people things. I lie, and I keep secrets. You’re right to be mad. In fact, you two can start a club for people who are mad at me. Having friends and telling people things is new for me. I’m working on getting better at it.”
“She has made some strides in that area,” Sean said. “It’s baby steps, but it’s something. Today I asked if she was okay and she said no.”
“You’re kidding,” Malcolm said incredulously. “That’s not a baby step; that’s a giant freakin’ leap.”
“You guys are funny,” I said wearily. “Totally hilari—” I started coughing and then suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
Sean swore. He unbuckled his seatbelt, twisted around in his seat, and grabbed the oxygen mask. I took it and put it over my nose and mouth as oxygen hissed. I forced myself to breathe slowly and the coughing eased.
I lowered the mask to my lap, rested my head against the seat, and closed my eyes. Sean turned off the machine and took the mask from me.
“Well, now I feel like the asshole,” Malcolm said, breaking the silence.
Sean’s fingers brushed my cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m—”
“—Fine,” both men said together.
I sighed. “I was going to say ‘thirsty.’”
As Sean handed me a bottle of water, Malcolm said, “So, since it’s obvious you aren’t going home to rest like any sane person would do in this situation, what’s my new assignment?”
“You have a choice,” Sean said. “You can go look for this warded warehouse where they’re keeping the survivors, or you can stick around and maybe help Alice with her demon problem.”
“By the way, I have a demon problem,” I said.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Malcolm said, exasperated.
In the end, after I’d explained the situation, Malcolm opted to go searching for the warehouse, as long as I promised to summon him to my side if I sensed the demon or one of his minions in my vicinity. I shared my memory of what the warehouse’s wards felt like and told him we thought it was on the south side of the city, and he zipped away.
I strongly suspected he’d said something to Sean as he was leaving; Sean jumped a little and got a faraway look like someone was talking in his head. I didn’t ask.
Sean stuck one of his new toys in the passenger-side wheel well of West’s Beemer and then we were off, headed for the apartment of Hailey Travers, Jake’s sister.
When Hailey opened the door, she took one look at us and started yelling. “I haven’t seen him! Why do you people keep bothering me? I told you earlier; I haven’t seen my idiot brother in months. He’s on drugs and I don’t want him around my kids.” She slammed the door.
Sean and I exchanged glances and headed back to the SUV. “How do we interpret that?” Sean asked. “Who’s been coming around looking for Jake?”
“If it’s the harnad looking, that means they don’t have him,” I said. “Or maybe it’s the cops looking for him, following up on their statements from the other night.”
“She said ‘you people,’” Sean pointed out as we got into the SUV. “Do we look like cops or like the sort of people who would be in a harnad?”
I shrugged and gave him the address for Amy Curry. It turned out to be a small single-family house in a working-class neighborhood, with an overgrown lawn and a two-tone pickup parked out front. We parked behind the truck and got out, picking our way cautiously up the cracked walkway toward the front porch.
Sean stopped so suddenly that I ran into him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I smell death,” he said grimly.
Stomach knotted, I followed him up to the porch. When we got to the door, Sean used his jacket sleeve to cover his hand and tried the doorknob. The door opened.
The smell hit me like a slap across the face. I took one last deep breath of fresh air and we slipped inside and closed the door.
The living room was the crime scene. Three people—two men and a woman—were lying face down where they’d fallen, their hands tied behind their backs with zip ties. They had each been shot in the back of the head, execution style. One or more of them had emptied their bowels, either in death or in terror.
I saw the girl’s face first. It was blotchy and distorted but I recognized her from the photo Kim Dade sent. “That’s Amy Curry.”
Sean walked around the bodies on the floor, stepping carefully. The coffee table was covered with drug paraphernalia, including a small scale, a box of little bags, and lighters.
“They made it look like a drug rip-off,” I said as he crouched to look at the dead men. “Anyone walking in here is going to think they got killed for drugs and money.”
“It’s Jake Travers and John Andrews,” Sean said as he rose. “We found them both.”
My instincts told me we needed to get the hell out of Dodge, but there was one thing I had to do first. I lowered my shields, searching with my senses, and felt a familiar trace of air magic coming from another room. With Sean trailing behind me, I went to a back bedroom, following the trace.
I found what I was looking for on top of a dresser: a plain gold band with a small white opal. I picked it up and closed my eyes, drinking in this last remaining trace of Mark’s familiar magic. They hadn’t had time to pawn Mark’s ring before the harnad got them. I supposed I should be thankful for that small favor. I stuck the ring in my pocket and we returned to the front room.
I looked at Amy Curry, a young woman who
was dead because her boyfriend saw two men dumping a body in an alley. “We need to leave,” I said softly.
We didn’t say another word until we were back in the SUV and well away from the house. Sean drove with the window down, making little chuffing noises to clear his nose of the stench of death.
“It must have been the cops coming to see Hailey,” I said. “Travers and Andrews looked like they’ve been dead since early yesterday morning.”
“Where are we on the Brody dossier?” Sean asked, closing his window.
“Waiting on Kim Dade. She said it would be later today before she had things put together on that. It’s after five now; I’ll check with her if we haven’t heard anything by six. Any motion from West?”
Sean checked his phone. “No, he’s still at his office.”
My phone rang. It was a local number. “Alice Worth.”
“Ms. Worth, this is Detective Ernesto Diaz.”
His tone was friendly and conversational, and it immediately put me on guard. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“We would appreciate it if you could come down to our office and give us a statement.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Would tomorrow work?”
“We would really like to talk to you this evening, if that’s possible.”
“I can be there in about ninety minutes, depending on traffic,” I said. “Can I get into the building without having to deal with the crowd out front?”
“There’s a visitors’ lot on the south side of the building. Call me when you arrive and I’ll come down and bring you in through the side entrance.” Diaz gave me his cell number and we disconnected.
Sean eyed me. “Going into the lion’s den?”
“Not much choice,” I said with a sigh. “They won’t stop hounding me until they get me in there, so I might as well get it over with.”
“We’re not that far away from the police building. Why did you say ninety minutes?”
“I need you to take me back to your house so I can get my car.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
“I might be there for a couple of hours. Plus, the building has surveillance, so they’d see your vehicle dropping me off. I don’t want you pulled into this if we can help it. I’ll drive myself there, then meet up with you later.”
