“That’s ridiculous! Bobby was dead when Glen was called in.”
“I know, Fee. Something about a plot. It doesn’t make sense, but they’re scared. Particularly of humans. At the very least, they’re scared that with all his poking around, he’ll see something he shouldn’t and then decisions will have to be made.”
Decisions will have to be made. There were various ways, over the years, that the sept had dealt with humans discovering the truth about the Kahills, or learning something that might lead to such a discovery—none of them pleasant.
Again, Fia felt uneasy. Something just wasn’t right in the night air.
“That’s ridiculous.” She threw up her hand and then drew it over her hair, down the back of her head.
“It’s all got to be sorted out. For now, there’s no harm in watching him.”
She exhaled, looking back at the house. Trying not to be too pissed. “I guess not.”
“But they want him out of here. They’re pretty set on that. They’re going to talk about it tonight.”
“Great. Perfect,” she muttered and turned to go, again.
“Hey, Fee.”
“Yeah?” She didn’t look back.
“One more thing. Just so you know, going into it.”
She moaned. Halted. “Yeah?”
“They’re talking about sanctions.”
“Against me?” She turned to him, touching her breast bone. “For what? I’m doing everything I can to find this killer. We’re going back to the game preserve tomorrow. I think we might be onto something.”
“It’s not about the investigation. It’s him.” Arlan hooked his thumb in the direction of the house. At this distance, she could barely make out its outline. “You’re fraternizing with a human.”
“That a euphemism for screwing?” she demanded. “Why me? Don’t tell me you haven’t done it. Don’t tell me everyone in this town hasn’t done it at one point or another.”
He just looked at her.
“Ah,” she sighed, making no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice. “This is still about Ian.”
“Fee, you can’t blame them for being—”
“Arlan, please.” She held up her hand. “Don’t make excuses for them.” She walked away. “You better get back on watch. You don’t want the human outsmarting you.”
Fia felt Arlan’s gaze on her back as she went down the street, but he didn’t follow her. Eventually, she heard him walk back toward the B and B, remaining in human form.
She made a left at the stop sign, thinking she would take a shortcut through a yard. Just as she was opening a gate, she heard a twig snap and she turned in the direction of the sound.
Someone was sneaking through a yard across the street. Just passing through the opening between two ancient boxwood shrubs. Fia knew the silhouette. Tall, thin. Pink sweatshirt, hood pulled up and over her forehead to cover her acne-dotted face.
Kaleigh? What was she doing out in the middle of the night? Surely not meeting Derek. They’d broken up.
Or were they reconciling?
Fia felt a stab of bittersweet pain. First love. It was so hard. For a Kahill, even harder.
She stood at the gate in indecision. As a sept member, was it her duty to stop Kaleigh from making this mistake? There could, of course, be no future in the relationship. Even to consider it was dangerous, not just for the teenager, but for the whole sept.
So how was this different than what Fia was doing? How was her relationship with Glen any safer than Kaleigh’s with Derek?
Kaleigh was still just a kid.
Fia had the benefit of past experience and Kaleigh didn’t yet have that. Of course, one could make the argument that maturity was a good reason for Fia not to get involved with Glen. She, of all people, should have known better.
To Fia’s surprise, tears stung her eyes. Was her relationship with Glen doomed? Were all her relationships doomed? Was that Ian’s parting gift to her?
Fia saw Kaleigh stop, turn. The silhouettes of two more slender figures appeared in the darkness. Katy and Maria, no doubt.
Well, at least Kaleigh wasn’t going out into the woods alone. At least she was traveling in a group. There was safety in numbers. Power in numbers.
Power in numbers.
The hair suddenly rose on the back of Fia’s neck and she was instantly covered in gooseflesh.
Power in numbers.
Was it possible?
Against her will, memories of the past flashed through her head. Black-and-white images emblazoned in her mind burst suddenly into brilliant color. The flames. The blood that puddled in the grass. A sound script was added to the image in her mind. She heard the screams of those she loved. The clang of swords. The swoosh, the thud…the sound of a head rolling in the street.
Fia’s tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she opened them.
Power in numbers.
How had she missed it? She and Glen had been questioning how the killer was able to overpower his victims and so cleanly decapitate them. Fia, the entire town, had been trying to figure how one man could overpower a vampire, who had extraordinary strength. The answer was that it was not one killer.
And at that moment, Fia realized she had made a terrible decision a little over twelve hours ago when she made the decision to go to Philadelphia and meet Joseph. What she should have done was proceeded with the interviews. The interviews she lied to Glen about tonight.
Guilt washed over her. Heavy. Sour.
The girls moved up the street in a knot of quiet nervous energy.
Fia knew where they were going and a part of her wanted to call out to them. To warn them. It would be wrong to let them go. What if she was wrong?
She slipped her hand under her sweatshirt and unsnapped the leather strap that secured her firearm in its holster. She might be wrong.
But what if she was right?
Glen stepped into his wrinkled khaki pants and his belt buckle clacked so loudly that he thought for certain he had woken the entire house. He froze. Waited. He heard nothing but the usual night sounds of the old B and B. A ceiling fan clicking. A branch scraping an outside wall.
He glanced out the window beside his bed where the curtains had been left slightly parted. From there, he had just watched Fia disappear down the street. It was a dark night, no moon, and outside there was an eerie stillness. Though he had heard the branch and knew there had to be a slight breeze, nothing seemed to stir. Not the leaves on the silver maple tree outside the window, not a blade of grass.
Glen was not a touchy-feely guy. He didn’t rely on feelings. On hunches. He had no rational reason to believe anything was wrong. Except that he could feel it deep in his gut.
The streetlamp cast feeble light across the front lawn and part of the driveway. There, between the darkness and the shadows, Glen saw him. Watched him.
It was the good-looking guy, Arlan. The one who had the thing for Fia.
Fia had obviously left Arlan to keep an eye on the B and B while she was out.
It pissed him off that she had sneaked out of the house again. Left his bed to go do God knew what. See God knew who. Go God knew where. And it worried him. No, he was more than worried. Worried wasn’t a strong enough word for the fear he had carried in his chest these last couple of days.
All week, he’d told himself that Fia’s odd behavior had nothing to do with the cases. That she had nothing to do with the murders, and knew no more than he did. But he had wondered if his attraction to her…his lust for her…was preventing him from clearly seeing what was going on here. He knew Fia well enough to realize she had nothing to do with the deaths, but what if she was protecting someone who did? Anyone who could look past the weirdness of Clare Point could see how close these families were to each other. How devoted they were. How they protected each other and nurtured each other.
He pulled a T-shirt over his head, watching Arlan.
The man whose eyes seemed to glow in the weird light watched the house. But he didn
’t see Glen. Didn’t know Glen was awake. That Glen was watching the watcher.
That would make getting out of the house undetected a hell of a lot easier.
Still in a quandary, Fia followed the teenagers into the woods at the edge of the game preserve. She’d immediately put up a mental wall to prevent Maria or Katy from picking up any of her thoughts, and therefore her presence. But it quickly became evident that the girls wouldn’t have noticed if an entire pride of wild panthers were following them. The girls were completely, sweetly, oblivious to their surroundings. No one was thinking about Mahon, who had been decapitated on the path they were following. No one cared that Shannon had very likely been followed out of the same forest. All that mattered to them were the human boys they were going to meet.
As Fia followed Kaleigh and her friends, she caught snippets of their conversation and thoughts, mixed with mental images. With the mental wall raised to protect herself, Fia was unable to clearly read the girls’ thoughts. Unfortunately, at least in Fia’s case, the wall worked in both directions.
“So he called you?”
“Told you he was sorry he was an ass?”
You think he’s really willing to wait to fuck you, or is that just another line he’s feeding you?
“We’re just going to talk. That’s why I want you guys to come. To back me up.”
Why the middle of the night? Why here?
“Our parents will kill us, they find out we’re out here with that nut job wandering around hacking people’s heads off.”
My dad forbade me to see John again. Said he’d lock me in my room for the next century if he caught me sneaking out again.
The words and thoughts were jumbled. The girls and their feelings seemed so innocent. Their world so full of possibilities which they would all too soon realize were just dreams. Not realities. All too soon, they would realize the width and breadth of the mallachd. Cursed. Cursed for all of eternity.
“Now you guys have to stay here. He said come alone. He said I had to come by myself,” Kaleigh whispered.
The girls had halted on the deer path, not far from where Fia, Shannon, Sorcha, and Eva had found the teens that night at the campfire.
Fia halted, remaining off the path, standing behind a stunted wild pecan tree. She could smell burning wood in the cool night air.
So Derek had a cozy little campfire going. How romantic. Maybe Fia was wrong. Maybe this really was just a teenage midnight rendezvous.
Then she smelled the faintest scent of gasoline and she tensed, at once.
Who started campfires with gasoline on a game preserve? Only idiots, or someone who intended to burn something more than firewood.
Chapter 23
It was easier to get out of the house, past Arlan, than Glen had expected it would be. A window over the washing machine in the laundry room off the kitchen, a sprint across the backyard, then over a picket fence and he was on the street that ran behind the B and B. He went up two blocks, cut across a lawn and walked in the direction Fia had gone.
The street, the whole town, was eerily quiet. There were no characteristic sights or sounds associated with a small town in the middle of the night. No dogs barked. No cats prowled, knocking lids off garbage cans. No heat pumps hummed. Not a car to be seen.
There was no sign of life except the glow of dim interior light he spotted behind the drawn blinds of the town’s little rinky-dink museum, now closed for the season. And that was probably a light left on for security purposes. He hadn’t visited the museum, but he guessed it was important to the townspeople that they protect the broken pieces of china and chipped arrowheads Fia told him were contained in glass cases in the building.
Other than the glow from the museum, not a single window in the town shone with light. Not a single person was apparently in a bathroom, or watching late night TV. Even for this weird town, it was weird.
He kept walking. Hands in his pockets. Sidearm in the holster he wore under his jacket.
Glen didn’t know where Fia had gone, only what direction, but he followed his instinct. Gave in to his gut.
As he walked, he thought about his father. Wondered if it was a night like this, if it had been his gut that had driven him to that street corner the night he was shot down.
Glen wondered if he was making a mistake.
But something was pulling him. Someone needed him. His gut told him it was Fia. Or it was going to be.
Later, when Fia would recall the chain of events that followed, she would remember them in painstaking detail, played out in slow motion. She would remember the odor of the gasoline fumes, the crunch of the leaves, and Kaleigh’s muted cries. She would remember the overwhelming flood of guilt that washed over her, even as she flew through the forest, branches scraping her face, tearing at her hair.
But time seemed to speed up, almost to pass her, as the events actually unfolded.
Fia watched as Kaleigh left the path and her two friends behind. She saw the gangly young man in the hooded sweatshirt waiting beside the fire. Kaleigh threw herself into Derek’s arms, making apologies. Declarations of love. He wrapped her in his embrace and their mouths met, the two of them seeming to Fia to be all elbows and angles and inexperienced at lovemaking.
It wasn’t until the other two boys rushed out of the darkness and into the circle of firelight that Fia or Kaleigh realized something was wrong. It was a minute too late for both of them.
The hooded members of the high council stood around the ancient table, their daggers poised.
“These are unusual circumstances,” Gair intoned gravely. “Not normal procedure. I am hesitant to call for an aonta.”
“We can’t wait,” a young male, his face hidden by the hood of his robe, insisted.
“But Fia is not here. She should be included in such a—”
“She knew the general council was meeting tonight,” he interrupted. “She knows a high council meeting can be called at any time, as part of the general council’s decision. Once again, she’s straying. Once again, she’s not among us where she should be.”
“You should call for a vote,” an older woman argued softly. “He’s right. She had her chance. Too many chances, if you ask me.”
Gair studied the hooded figures around him. His lifetime task was to protect those around this table and those who slept in this town. He knew he could not show favoritism to any, not even to his dear granddaughter, who had always held a special place in his heart. It was also his responsibility to do what those who depended on him wanted him to do.
“Old man! Why do you hesitate?” the young man demanded. “Call for the aonta. If it is not meant to be, the daggers will not fall.”
“If it’s not meant to be,” chanted another. “It will not be.”
“We must strike before it’s too late. You heard our report. He knows more than he lets on. It’s not safe!”
“Not safe,” others echoed. “Not safe.”
Their fear was sharp in their voices.
“An aonta!”
“An aonta,” the council members demanded.
Gair lowered his head. Perhaps he was again getting too old to serve the sept as their chieftain. Too many years. Too much sadness. It was making him weak. “The aonta,” he said softly.
The ten council members present lifted their daggers, and the ship’s bell in the far corner of the room clanged angrily, seemingly of its own free will. At that moment, Gair knew he had made a mistake. He knew that he had allowed his people’s fears to prevail in a room where logic and fairness had always come first. In calling for this aonta, he had set aside the sept’s objective, which was to protect innocent humans.
But it was too late. He could not stop the daggers from falling. And at once, in unison, they all struck the scarred wooden table, tip down. Gair knew the count before he even gazed downward.
Unanimous. The human would have to die.
It happened sometimes. Not often, but sometimes it was the only way to protect the sep
t. In the end, they knew God would tally the hash marks on both sides, but for now, for tonight, it was so voted. It would be done.
“Now, when he has gone alone into the woods,” Regan cried, throwing back his hood, yanking the knife from the tabletop. He bared his canines. “Friends, come! We strike now!”
“Stop! FBI!” Fia cried out, lunging forward. At the same instant, Kaleigh realized she was in danger, and that Derek and his friends were not what they appeared to be.
Maria and Katy screamed as the boys grabbed Kaleigh by her shoulders and dragged her backwards, pulling her to the ground.
“Run!” Fia shouted to Kaleigh’s friends as she sprinted through the underbrush toward the clearing.
Fia couldn’t have been more than two hundred feet from Kaleigh and the boys, but as she ran toward them, the distance stretched into two miles. Fia slid her Glock from its holster.
“Derek! What are you doing?” Kaleigh cried, her voice high-pitched and filled with terror.
As Fia ran past the other two girls, frozen on the path, she gave them a shove. “Run!” she insisted. “Don’t stand there. Run!”
“But Kaleigh!” Katy protested as Fia shot into the darkness.
“I’ll get her!” Fia called over her shoulder. As she turned back, she saw Derek raise a long, slender stick and throw the full force of his body into it as he lunged forward.
To Fia’s disbelief, to her horror, the young man sank the stick into Kaleigh’s abdomen, impaling her on the ground. The young girl’s shriek rose up and rippled through the trees like the cry of a wounded animal.
“No! Stop!” Fia screamed, bursting into the clearing, her arms extended, her weapon drawn.
Derek turned to her, his fingers still wrapped around the stick. A pool cue. It was a pool cue.
“Back off, or I’ll do it. I swear I will.” He released his hold on the pool cue and drew an object from behind his back. The light of the fire reflected off the thin blade of the metal.
A sword? He had a damned sword?
“I’ll cut her head off. I swear to God, I will,” Derek threatened. “Put the gun down or I’ll do it. You know I will.”
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