Rafe took her hand. “Ready?”
She had no flip response that usually rolled off her tongue without thought. She simply nodded, and they entered the coffeehouse.
Detective Nelson was sitting in the corner with another man, this one who also sat like a cop, but was rougher around the edges than the detective—dark hair, sloppy dress, tall and skinny. He looked about as happy to be here as Moira.
They sat at the table. Moira turned her chair so she could see the room better, knowing the cops wouldn’t give up their ideal vantage point. “What’s the scoop?” she asked.
“Rafe Cooper and Moira O’Donnell,” Grant said by way of introduction. “This is Detective Carter Woods with the Narcotics Task Force. He has some information about an underground club that might be exactly what we’re looking for. But first I have some disturbing news.” He slid over a file. “When I was looking into Amy Carney’s files, I came across another missing girl that normally wouldn’t have caught my attention. She’s from San Luis Obispo, which is several hours up the coast from Carney. They have different backgrounds, different religions, Amy’s white, Beth is half-Japanese. Beth is still missing, Amy was found within twenty-four hours of her murder.”
“So what do they have in common?” Moira asked.
“The both attended the same camp last summer. I followed up with both sets of parents, and the girls were at the camp the same week. None of the parents remember either girl talking about the other. I’m having Jeff follow-up with the local PDs involved, see if they have the girl’s social media pages, emails, and access to the computers.”
“And she’s still missing?”
Grant nodded. “I asked the SLO police department to re-prioritize her file and send her photo to all law enforcement and morgues in Southern California.”
“What’s this summer camp?” Rafe asked.
“His World Nature Camp.”
“Doesn’t sound like a coincidence,” Carter said.
Moira agreed, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t know how much Grant had told the detective about her and Rafe. She asked Carter, “And this club you know about has something to do with the two girls?”
He shrugged. “When Nelson mentioned the killer taking the girl’s blood and biting the neck of his victim, I immediately thought of Defiance.”
“Her victim,” Grant corrected. “The bite mark was made by a woman.”
“There was more than one person who killed Amy,” Rafe said.
“We can assume that, but we only have proof of one killer.”
Carter said, “Defiance opened last summer, just outside of Westwood in a mixed-use area. It’s an after hours club, sunset to four a.m. Not technically legal, but there’s a loophole in the zoning code that because they’re in a grandfathered area of the county that wasn’t included in the county ordinances—I won’t bore you with the specifics, but there’re only a handful of these places operating.”
“Why Defiance?” Rafe asked.
“Because a bunch of freaks hang out there,” Carter said.
Moira smiled. She decided she liked Carter Woods. “Freaky how?”
“I got nothing against Goth and Emo or whatever these people are into—to each his own, right? But these people are freaks. Wearing fangs so they look like Dracula. And they drink real blood.” He leaned forward and said in a low voice, “One of my informants said there are people who actually let them drink their blood. Voluntarily. Who does that shit?”
“Freaks,” Moira repeated with a half-smirk.
“Dangerous freaks,” Grant said. “Someone killed Amy Carney and drained half her blood. This club, Defiance, is our best lead at this point.”
“What do you know about the victim? Was she a voluntary donor?” Carter asked.
“No,” Rafe said.
Moira’s head snapped toward Rafe. How did he know Amy hadn’t voluntarily given the freaks her blood? But before she could ask him, Grant said, “Doubtful. There were no other signs of trauma, no other bite marks or needle marks. Other than bite on her neck and the large bore needle in her side. An employee at the Encino Reservoir found her the morning after she died.”
“How long between when she went missing and when she died?” Carter asked.
“Approximately twenty-four hours. She was killed on September twenty-third—”
Moira shot her head up. “The Autumn Equinox? Are you kidding me?”
Grant stared at her gravely. “Is there a significance to that date?”
“The four solstices are used in many Pagan rituals,” Rafe said. “Mostly harmless—”
Moira grunted.
“But in some black magic sects,” Rafe continued, “the day has added significance. Mostly as a symbol, and because magic has a lot to do with faith—”
Moira interrupted. “What is this, the politically correct version?” The three men stared at her. Her face heated but she stood her ground. She’d been ridiculed enough in her life she could take it. “This particular solstice there was also a full moon, and the Autumn Equinox is when the demon Baphomet is honored by Satanists. She’s also known as the Mother of Blood.”
Carter cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t know anything about Satanic activity or solstices or this woman—”
“Demon,” Moira corrected.
Both Grant and Carter looked uncomfortable, but Moira stood her ground. Grant of all people should understand what they faced. “It’s not so important what we call it,” Grant said, trying to smooth over the difficult conversation, “but if these people are worshipping some dark lord or just killing teenage girls for kicks, we need to stop them.”
“When did Beth go missing?” Rafe asked.
“December twenty-first. Is there a significance to that date as well?”
“Winter Solstice,” Rafe and Moira said simultaneously. “And,” Moira added, “there was a full moon then, too.”
“Why does that matter?” Grant asked.
“It only matters in that the practitioners believe they have more power. It’s more about theatrics and presentation. They risk far more because they think they have a stronger protection from whatever entity they worship.” Moira frowned. “The Spring equinox is in two days.”
“You think another girl is going to go missing?”
“If you mean, do I think another girl is going to be drained of her blood?” Moira said. “Yes. If this club Defiance is involved, I’ll know. Let’s go.”
“Hold it,” Carter said. “It’s invitation only, and the doors don’t open until sunset.”
“How do I get one?”
Carter frowned.
“You know someone?” Grant asked.
“Me.”
Moira eyed the cop suspiciously. “You hang out at a club for wannabe vampires?”
“I’ve been in a couple times. Comes with the territory—I need to know who goes where, where I might be able to recruit a CI, if they’re heavy hitters. If there’re drugs going in and out of Defiance, it’s way under the table. But I have a CI who can get us invites.”
Grant warned, “This might get weird—and dangerous.”
Carter laughed. “Dangerous? You haven’t done undercover work. Shit, Grant, I can handle a bunch of fake-fanged freaks.”
“All I ask,” Moira said, “is keep an open mind.”
“Open mind. Check.” He wasn’t taking her seriously, but Moira couldn’t be responsible for Carter.
Except that she was. If they brought him in, she’d have to find a way to protect him.
The weight on her shoulders grew heavier.
“And listen to us,” Rafe said. “If things go south, you have to do what we say.”
Carter bristled and lost his good humor. “I’ve been a cop for twelve years, the last seven in narcotics. I know how to do a job.”
Grant intervened. “I’m the only back-up you’ll have. I can’t get a warrant for a fishing expedition. I need something solid to take to the D.A.”
“I
don’t care about warrants,” Moira said, “I want to stop another sacrifice. If you’re right and there have been two already, they’re not going to stop.”
“Now you sound like a cop,” Grant said.
“Oh, joy, just what I always wanted to be when I grew up.”
Carter assessed Rafe and Moira critically. “You know you can’t go in like that,” he said. “Do you have anything else?”
“I know how to dress,” Moira said. “Where should we meet?”
Grant said, “I’ll pick you up at your hotel at ten. We’ll put together a plan driving over there. Where are you staying?”
Rafe said, “Same place as last time.”
Chapter Three
His World Nature Camp spread across more than one hundred acres above Placerita Canyon. Early spring had brought forth new growth on the evergreens, but the Angeles National Forest was nothing like the Montana wilderness where Moira had trained as a demon hunter.
While Rafe drove from Westwood in the heart of L.A. toward the mountains, Moira sat in the passenger seat and surfed the Internet for information about the camp. It operated year-round with a small full-time staff and larger seasonal staff. The core purpose was to teach stewardship of the earth through learning about nature. Campers were encouraged to pursue their own spirituality, go on nature walks, learn about the ecosystem, and live, in part, off the land. While the bulk of the weeklong camping experiences were through small private schools and churches, any non-profit youth group could participate.
“On the surface it looks normal,” Moira said. “Though the gardening part sounds tedious.”
“You don’t have much patience,” Rafe said.
“To watch my food grow? No, I don’t.”
“I had a garden at the mission, before the attack.”
Moira reached for Rafe’s hand. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad. Maybe if you found a hobby you wouldn’t spend so much time thinking about demons and all that is wrong in the world.”
“Maybe. But not playing in dirt.”
Rafe brought her hand to his upturned lips. “I don’t really see you wearing a sun hat and tilling the soil.”
Moira thought back to their game plan, but she still had questions. “How did Amy’s killer know she was a virgin?” Moira glanced at Rafe. “And how you knew.”
He didn’t say anything. Moira sensed he was debating whether to lie, and she prayed he didn’t.
“She told me,” he said simply.
She couldn’t have heard right. “Told you.”
“At the morgue. I saw her ghost.”
“Seeing a ghost and having a friggin’ conversation with a ghost are two entirely different things.” Moira didn’t know what disturbed her more—that Rafe had a conversation with a ghost, or that he had waited hours before telling her. “Did you ask her who killed her? What ritual they used? What they did with her blood?”
Moira was shaking. Rafe didn’t answer her questions, and the silence made her angry. She’d much rather be mad than let the fear for Rafe’s soul consume her. She continued, her voice rising. “Do you know what happens when you start communicating with dead people? The line between the astral plane and our world thins. As if it wasn’t thin enough! It opens you up for possession. It’s because of Julie, isn’t it? Because you let her in! You’re risking your life, Rafe.”
Rafe pulled the truck over to the side of the mountain road, on a narrow turn-out. She opened the door, needing to walk it off. Her whole body was shaking.
Rafe grabbed her arm and pulled her back in. “What are—” then she saw that they were stopped on the edge of a drop-off. It wouldn’t kill her if she rolled down the hill, but it would be nearly impossible to get back up.
She closed the door. “Drive.”
“No.”
She faced him. His face was unreadable, and that bothered her, too. She was an open book, and he was keeping everything close to the vest. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“Moira, can I please explain?”
“Talk.” She crossed her arms and stared at him.
Don’t lie to me, Rafe. Just don’t lie to me.
Rafe knew that Moira was more scared about his safety than angry. He didn’t know how to make her understand, but he had to try.
He took her hands in his, even though she tried to pull back. Her muscles were tense, her fear and worries simmering. Communicating with spirits was extremely dangerous, and while not expressly forbidden if the person didn’t intentionally seek out the ghost, it was certainly frowned on.
He didn’t want to lie to her, but how could he lie if he didn’t even know what the truth was? He didn’t know why he could have a conversation with Amy Carney, or why Moira hadn’t been able to see her at all. Ever since he woke up from his coma nearly a month ago, he knew things he shouldn’t know. But he didn’t want to talk about that with Moira, not until he had more information about what exactly he did know and what happened to him while he was comatose.
But he didn’t have to tell her everything. He could be honest insofar as what had happened when they’d battled the demon Lust.
“I don’t know why I could talk to Amy’s ghost,” Rafe began. Moira tried to pull her hands back, but he held tight. “But I think I know when it started. Do you remember when Lust threw all the trapped souls at me?”
“Like I could forget,” she said. Her attempt at sarcasm was weak and her anger was fading. Rafe pushed on.
“What is a ghost except for a lost soul?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a vengeful spirit or a cursed soul or even a demon—”
“Or simply wandering. Confused. Not all spirits are out to destroy living souls.”
She turned her head and pulled her hands sharply away. “I can’t believe what you’re saying.”
He grabbed her face and turned her back to face him. Now she was mad. “The world isn’t black and white, Moira. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“We’re talking about risking your soul and your life!”
“They are at risk every day.” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, his fingers entwined in her hair. “I sent those souls in the direction they were supposed to go. But they all spoke to me, dumping their memories, confessing their sins. I couldn’t control it. I had to open myself up, I had to let them—”
“Stop!” Moira hit him squarely on his chest. “You nearly died. Lust planned to kill you with that attack.”
He grabbed her wrists. “But it didn’t kill me.”
“It could have! It should have. Anyone else would have died or lost their mind.” She looked down.
Rafe understood what Moira feared. He feared it himself. Was he to be trusted? Were his new abilities at the command of Heaven or Hell? Was he unwittingly using magic on a deep, subconscious level that would ultimately put them both in even more danger? Already there were whispers about him at St. Michael’s. His former trainer had wanted to send him back to Italy for observation. But it would have been prison, and he would not be a prisoner.
“I don’t know how I knew what to do when Lust turned the souls toward me, but I did,” Rafe said. “I managed it. And that’s why I thought Amy Carney could talk with me. I didn’t seek her out. I didn’t go looking for her. She was there. She wants answers—her soul needs us to help her.”
“We did. Or, rather, Grant did. He identified her. She’ll be buried properly.”
“Someone has to help her find the way to where she’s supposed to be now.”
“Not you. Geez, Rafe, people have been dying for millennia, it can’t be that hard to see the light!”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if when she was laid to rest if she would be able to do it on her own.
“Dammit!” Moira pounded the dashboard. “Damn, damn, damn!”
“Moira—”
“Don’t you realize that you’re now vulnerable on a whole other level? If your enemies get wind of this,
they can attack you from the astral plane and I won’t be able to stop it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. We need to turn off this...thing.”
Her lips quivered, her vibrant blue eyes were bright with emotion. She opened her mouth to continue the argument, but he kissed her instead. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him as close to her as possible, practically climbing over the center console of the truck. He had started the kiss, but she took over, her tongue moving with his, her hands twisting his hair where it curled as it touched his collar.
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