The Ghoul Vendetta

by Lisa Shearin

  Rake said he would meet me in one hour at the midtown marina where he kept his boat. That gave me a little time for an interoffice detour.

  Jenny Greene worked in SPI’s HR department, though technically it was HSR (Human and Supernatural Resources). Jenny looked human to everyone else, but I knew she was a river hag, though “water spirit” was the more politically correct term. River hags looked almost human anyway—that is if you took a human, made her skin the color of the Wicked Witch of the West, and exchanged dental work with a piranha. I always thought they had to live in a body of water. Turned out any size body would do, and I’d been told that SPI had a pool in the basement for its water-dwelling employees to use during breaks.

  Jenny had relatives that lived on the Hudson River, north of Yonkers. Water spirits were seriously family oriented, almost as much as dryads. When your primary habitat was one river or one forest, you tended to be pretty tight with your relatives. If her family had seen anything out of the ordinary, like a kraken or hydras, Jenny would know about it. Rule number one in solving a case and getting a good story—talk to the locals.

  Jenny met me at the door to the HSR department with a big hug and tears in her river green eyes. So much for if she’d heard what had happened to Ian.

  “Oh, Makenna, I am so sorry to hear what happened to Ian. We’ll get him back.”

  “Yes, we most certainly will. In fact, you just might be able to help.”

  “I’ll do anything I can.”

  “Where exactly does your family live on the Hudson?”

  “Near Croton Point Park.”

  “How far north of Yonkers is that?”

  “About twenty-five miles. Why?”

  “Upriver from Yonkers is where the Fomorians have been taking their prisoners.”

  Jenny blanched. “Fomorians?”

  “You’ve heard of them?”

  “My people came from the River Shannon in Ireland. I know the stories. That’s what took Ian?”

  “We’re almost certain.”

  She flashed a fierce smile full of dainty fangs that’d always reminded me of pushpins. Teeth that were at odds with her perpetual uniform of sweater set, skirt, and pearls.

  “I’ll call my aunt Shirley. She’s the family busybody. She’s also a troll.”

  I blinked.

  “Related by marriage, dear. My uncle Pat has always been the adventuresome sort. No one was shocked in the least when he brought a troll home to dinner. He and Shirley moved to Bear Mountain to be near her people. That’s about forty miles up the Hudson from Yonkers. Her family has lived under the Bear Mountain Bridge for close to two hundred and fifty years. No one gets past without being noticed.”

  21

  I had good irons in the fire. Yasha was going to check in with Vlad for an update. Jenny was tapping her family network. I was about to try to get an audience with the local merqueen.

  But first, I needed to tell Rake that Ian had been kidnapped, and I was going to do it without crying. I hadn’t cried yet, and I didn’t have time to do it now. You cried at funerals, not search and rescues—and that’s what this was going to be. I was going to find my partner and bring him home—alive and whole. For now, Ian was still both. I just had a feeling in my gut that didn’t have a thing to do with either wishful thinking or the cheeseburger I’d made myself eat before leaving headquarters. Like Kitty had said, I had to keep my strength up. Not eating was not an option.

  Yasha was driving me to the marina. He did not like the fact that I’d be going out on the river alone with Rake. Apparently it didn’t matter that I’d been seeing Rake for months without a chaperone, let alone a bodyguard. But I knew what Yasha was feeling. When it came to Rake, Ian was the self-appointed big brother. With Ian gone . . . no, with Ian not here right now, Yasha was taking on that responsibility. Fortunately, he realized how important touching base again with Vlad was, or I’d have had one heck of an argument on my hands.

  I was riding shotgun—Ian’s usual spot in the front seat. I glanced over at Yasha’s big hands on the wheel, hands that were now hairier than they should have been for this time of the month. The full moon wasn’t for another two days, but as we’d discovered last year when we were racing the clock to keep the supernatural community in the tristate area alive—including Yasha—our werewolf friend had started going wolf a wee bit earlier than scheduled. Normal people broke out in hives when they got nervous; werewolves broke out in fur and fangs. That night, we’d all had to depend on Rake and his boat to get us to our destination to save our little corner of the world. Rake hadn’t liked having a changing werewolf on his boat. I couldn’t really blame him, especially since Yasha didn’t like Rake.

  We arrived at the marina. Rake was waiting, and I knew Yasha was going to stay right where he was until we were safely in the boat—though “safe” and “in the boat” was an oxymoron right now with a kraken lurking somewhere in the Hudson River. I didn’t try to dissuade him; I understood and appreciated it.

  “I’ve got my phone,” I assured my big, and really hairy now, Russian friend. “And it’s in a waterproof pouch. I promise I’ll call if we’re attacked.”

  “Have you—”

  “Yes, I’ve taken my Dramamine.”

  We sat there in silence, looking at each other.

  “Yasha?”

  “Da?”

  “We’re going to get him back.”

  His big shoulders sagged a little. “Da.” He took a breath, let it out, and set his jaw. “Da, and we will make those who took him pay.”

  “Damn straight.” I leaned across the console and gave him a big hug and a kiss on his hairy cheek. I got out of the Suburban, closed the door, then turned back to Yasha and bared my teeth in a fierce grin. “And when we find out where he is, sharpen your claws, darlin’, cause we’re goin’ huntin’.”

  • • •

  “I would ask what was that all about,” Rake began, “but I heard some of it. However, lacking context, I’m confused.”

  “You eavesdropped.”

  “I’m a goblin, it’s instinct; and these ears aren’t here just to look good.”

  I kept walking past him down the dock to where the sleek, black speedboat was tied. Rake had to jog a little to catch up. He knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to tell him until we were out on the water—or at least until Yasha was gone.

  “We’re burning daylight,” I said. “I don’t want to be out there after dark if I can help it.”

  “Understood.” His tone told me that was all he understood, but he knew me well enough to know when to push it and when to back off. This was the latter.

  • • •

  What I’d rehearsed in the Suburban on the way here had sounded so good in my head: calm, professional, and it even included questions for Rake that might point us in the right direction. Now, motoring slowly out of the slip and into the river with the sun casting a glow over the water, my head emptied and my eyes filled.

  Aw jeez. Not now. I don’t want to do this.

  I was sitting in my favorite seat near the bow. Rake was at the wheel several feet behind me. The motor provided just enough noise to block any sound. I could cry quietly, get it out, get it over with, and then the wind would dry my eyes and face, or I could blame my red eyes on the wind and pollen.

  It could work.

  My tear ducts didn’t care whether it would work or not, they were going into full production, and they were going to do it now.

  I bit my bottom lip, and let it go.

  I tried to be quiet, and I tried harder to stay perfectly still, but apparently trying and succeeding were two entirely different things.

  The boat settled in the water as the engine was cut, and I heard the rattle of the anchor going over the side as Rake took me in his arms and held me.

  I needed that, but I did not need that
.

  Crying turned into racking sobs.

  Rake simply held me tighter.

  Just when I thought I was finished . . . I wasn’t. I had no clue where my tear ducts were getting all that water from. Apparently I had a lot of pent-up emotion. I finally had to quit crying because I couldn’t breathe.

  Oh no, my nose was running. I wasn’t letting Rake see that.

  I frantically dug in my purse and came out with one of those little purse pack thingies of tissues. There were only two left. That wasn’t even going to get me started.

  “Please tell me you have Kleenex.” I barely got the words out through my stuffy nose.

  Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, Rake produced a full box. He hadn’t even moved. Dating a mage had its advantages.

  “Thank you.” I turned away from him and blew my nose. Eww. “Do you have a trash bag?”

  Rake instantly produced one of those, too.

  “High maintenance, aren’t I?”

  “I can manage.”

  Remaining turned into the glorious sunset, I blew my nose until it wouldn’t blow anymore. Then I dried my hands, and as an afterthought, dug my little bottle of hand sanitizer out of the bottom of my purse. That I half turned and let Rake see me do.

  I turned toward him with a sniff and apologetic smile. “The mystery’s gone, huh?”

  “Mystery is overrated,” Rake said, pulling me back against his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. I took a breath, my first good one since however long it’d been since the dam had broken.

  Rake pulled back just enough to look down at my face. “Alain called earlier and told me about Ian. You don’t need to tell me a thing.”

  And cue the waterworks, though thankfully, it was now only two tears. Probably the last two I had left. It was a wonder I hadn’t shriveled up from dehydration. I tried to swallow, but even my spit was gone. All that water had to come from somewhere.

  “I’ve got drinks,” Rake said. “Though I will have to get up to get them.”

  I gave a single, raspy laugh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good.”

  Rake went to the bench seat at the rear of the boat, lifted up a portion of it and pulled a plastic bottle and a can out of the built-in cooler. “Water or ginger ale?”

  “Yes.”

  “As my lady wants.”

  I popped the top on the ginger ale and went to take a big swig. I stopped myself just before I did.

  “Go easy on that stuff,” said Ian’s voice in my head. “You’re gonna give yourself the hiccups.”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together.

  “Are you—”

  I raised my hand against Rake finishing that sentence. Those four little words were guaranteed to send any woman on the verge of tears right over the edge: “Are you all right?” I had work to do, a partner to save. My crying was done.

  “I’m fine. Better than fine. Good.” I looked up at Rake. “Thank you. I needed that. I didn’t want to do it, but I needed it.”

  Normally, Rake would have done a mocking half bow and said something like: “Always a pleasure to be of service, my dearest Makenna” with a sly emphasis on “pleasure” and “service.”

  Not this time.

  “I’m glad I was here to help,” he said, his voice low and soft. “And I’m even more grateful and honored that you let me. It is I who should be thanking you.”

  That nearly made me misty again, but not in a bad way. I gave him a shaky smile. “You mean that.”

  “Every last word. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

  I was vulnerable; in fact, I don’t think I’d ever been more vulnerable in my life. Rake had given me what I’d desperately needed, but he hadn’t pushed, he hadn’t done or said anything to take advantage of the situation. He’d simply been honest. For the first time since I’d met him, I believed what Rake had said, no questions, no doubts. It was a new feeling for me, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  Rake was standing at the wheel; I was still sitting on the other side. Only the console was between us.

  I could work with that.

  I turned toward him, brought my legs up on the cushion, and rose up on my knees . . .

  . . . and kissed Rake Danescu.

  It was tentative, it was soft, and with the boat rolling beneath us, it was also kinda dangerous to our noses.

  I felt like living dangerously.

  Moments later, the rolling turned to pitching with the wake of a passing tour boat, and sure enough, I whapped my nose on Rake’s chin.

  “Ow.”

  “I’ve had better reactions,” Rake said as I held my nose and hoped it wasn’t bleeding. “Though all things considered, I’ll take it.”

  I looked up to a big, and actually goofy, grin on Rake’s face.

  I felt a smile coming on. “Maybe we should put this off until there’s terra firma under our feet.”

  “Not fun, but probably wise.” His dark eyes twinkled. “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

  I met his gaze. “I know. And like yourself, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

  The wind had a chill, and I glanced to the horizon. The sun was farther down than was comfortable, considering what had happened the last time Rake and I were out on the Hudson after dark.

  “We better get a move on,” I said.

  “Agreed.”

  Rake reeled in the anchor and got the boat back under way.

  “I also talked to Alain about helping to find Ian,” he said as we passed the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum. “I have contacts that SPI does not.”

  He didn’t need to elaborate on that. I knew what he meant. Being a goblin and a dark mage, and doing business outside of what mortal and supernatural law allowed, Rake knew a whole other world existed within our own, with its own rules and justice. In his work for goblin intelligence, Rake spent a lot of time there with the locals. If the Fomorians were working with Janus, some of Rake’s contacts had to know about it, maybe even know where they were and what they were up to. To do business there and make deals required a willingness to break the rules or at least bend them until they squealed.

  It wasn’t how SPI or Alain Moreau did business—at least until now.

  “What did Moreau say?”

  Rake grinned crookedly. “He is willing to accept any information that I might procure.”

  Late last year, Vivienne Sagadraco read Rake the riot act about keeping secrets that would get her people killed. Rake had been more forthcoming since then, though he still had plenty of secrets. Goblins hoarded them like gold, and Rake was a billionaire in more ways than one.

  “Sounds like Moreau.” I paused. “What have you found out?”

  “The heads of the vampire families who have been robbed are raising the drawbridges, so to speak. They’re not venturing out, and if you’re not among their most trusted, you’re being kicked outside the gates.”

  Crap. I wanted Ambrus Báthory to trust Vlad enough to keep him inside with him; but at the same time, if he was inside he might not be able to get information outside. Yasha would find out one way or the other.

  “At the same time, they’re mobilizing the troops, and it’s not to protect the heads of the Houses. It looks more like they’re forming retrieval teams. They’re determined to get back what’s theirs.”

  I nodded grimly. “Sounds like a plan I can get behind. I take it they don’t have a target location yet?”

  “No, but they’ve got every ear to the ground. If one family finds out, they all will, and when they do, that target is going to get crowded.”

  “Crowds are fine, just as long as we’re part of it and get back what’s ours, too.”

  22

  THEY say there’s nothing like a good cry. I say the
re’s nothing like a good cry followed by a better kiss. I didn’t know who “they” were, or if they’d ever had their partner stolen by an obsessive and sadistic ghoul and his sea monster allies, but my head was clear, I could think, and I was ready to do whatever was necessary to get Ian back. Not that I hadn’t been ready before, but I now had an almost calm determination, and it felt good.

  Our destination was the spot where Ian had contacted the merfolk two nights before. I was sitting next to Rake as he steered the boat upriver. The streets weren’t Manhattan’s only high-traffic area. On a warm evening, the Hudson had more than its fair share. So while Rake’s boat had the speed to get us to the northernmost tip of Manhattan quickly, traffic slowed us down. On the upside, we could hear well enough to talk.

  Now that my head was clear, I could think, and with thinking came questions. While very little about anything that had happened made sense, one thing made even less sense than the others.

  “Why wait until now to take Ian?” I asked Rake. “It’s been years since that night in the jewelry shop. If this thing is as old and as powerful as we believe, then why wait this long to finish what he started with Ian?”

  “I don’t mean to trivialize this, darling, but I have encountered more than my share of evil individuals, both mortal and immortal. Their schedules are usually quite full. Apparently villainy—when you truly commit to it—is time consuming.”

  “Okay, I can see where all that plotting, and scheming, and betraying could fill up your day, but the Fomorians in that vault took orders from him, meaning he also had more than a minor role in kidnapping Bela Báthory. He’s already busy. To risk coming back to that bank, through the steel, concrete, and bespelled wall of a vault . . .” I let that hang there for a few seconds. “Kitty said it took some major league effort to open a portal there. And then he lured Ian in, even knowing that he’d likely arrive with plenty of backup. I’m just saying that if I were carrying out some evil master plan that was hundreds, maybe thousands of years in the making, I’d hold off on any personal vendetta until I’d taken care of the official business.”