She could feel the intensity of his thoughts, his love for his brother mixed in with terror over their near escape. There was something else, a distant memory of believing that Ramon was going to die, and the furious frustration of being able to do nothing to stop it. She saw herself through his eyes, a fear of losing something of value, something that he desperately needed. Not a person, but a thing, something to be guarded and used carefully.
Kayla tried to push it all away, not wanting to know any more, but she could still sense Carlos, the heat of his thoughts only a few feet away. And Roberta, a seething pool of different emotions: love, hatred, fear, and even concern for the girl lying on the bed in front of her.
And beyond both of them, a sensation of a dark pool, a place of warm emotion that lifted her up and sang within the confusion of her mind. She saw herself through Ramon’s eyes, a beautiful girl with bright green eyes and the magic coiling and dancing around her hands.
No, I don’t want this, she thought fuzzily, trying to focus on Ramon’s face, which was too blurry for her to see. I don’t want you to care about me, I want to hate you, I just want to get away, run a thousand miles from here.
Somebody, please, get me out of here!
Elizabet blinked, trying to keep her eyes open. She’d been at the police station for too many hours, waiting to hear the lab reports from what they’d found at her house. Too many hours without sleep, ever since she’d come home and found the pool of wet blood on her living room floor… .
Searching with the police, they’d found some physical evidence, but there was no way to know anything until the lab reports returned. Searching magically, she had found nothing. Kayla had vanished into the city without a trace.
Something brushed against her thoughts, a distant sense of magic. Then she heard the echo of a young girl’s voice, a cry of desperation and pain: “Somebody, please, get me out of here!”
Kayla!
She closed her eyes, hoping that no one else in the police station would notice her odd behavior, and cast her mind out in widening circles, searching.
There! She found it almost immediately, the residue of major magic, somewhere in the San Fernando Valley; traces of magic fading away even as she reached out to track it, disappearing into the eddying, drifting thoughts of one million Valley residents. Damn!
“Elizabet?”
She opened to her eyes, startled out of her near-trance. Nichelle Cable was standing by her desk, a folder tucked under her arm. “Are you okay?”
Elizabet nodded. “Just … just very tired. Do you have anything new?”
Nichelle shook her head. “Fibers and prints came up negative, except for that print on the broken dolphin which is, unfortunately, a match to your left thumb. I’m sorry, Elizabet.”
“Anything new on a connection between the double homicide and this kidnaping?” Elizabet asked.
“William Kennison III is a nutcase. Long history of mental instability. He was fired from his job earlier that day, apparently went home and loaded his assault rifle, then went hunting for his boss. Couldn’t find the boss, so he went after those people in the convenience store. He doesn’t have any connection to the kidnaping that we can find; he’s just a dead end.” The homicide detective smiled grimly. “At least we got a full confession out of him this morning, so even if your missing kid never turns up, we have this guy nailed down tight.”
“But he has no connection to Kayla’s kidnaping.” Elizabet clenched her fists in her lap.
“Maybe your kid will turn up on her own,” Nichelle said. “I mean, we don’t have much evidence that this was a kidnaping, except for the fact that there was blood on your living room floor. Maybe the blood was from an accident of some kind, and she called her friends to help her out. Maybe she just went off with friends. If she ends up back on the street, we’ll find her again eventually.”
I know that Kayla was taken against her will, Nichelle, but if I tell you how I know that, you’ll think I’m insane. Elizabet unclenched her fists and said, “Thank you for your help on this, Nichelle. I appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry it turned out this way,” Nichelle said. “I’ll let you know if anything else turns up. Here’s the lab folder, by the way. If any of this gives you ideas, let me know. The rest of us are drawing a blank right now.”
Elizabet opened the folder and leafed through the printed pages. The blood was Type A Positive, which matched Kayla’s medical records. No sign of the weapon that had caused the wounds; the perpetrators must have taken it with them. Some mud on the floor corresponded to a partial footprint in the flowerbed beside Elizabet’s front door. Not enough to make any identification, though, or even a guess as to shoe size. Some hairs that were identified as Elizabet’s.
In short, nothing.
She left the folder on Nichelle’s desk and slowly walked out to her car. There was nothing in that folder that the police could use to track down the kidnapers. If anyone was going to find Kayla, it would be by luck or magic.
I’ll keep trying, Elizabet thought. Every time she uses magic, it leaves a trace that I can follow. I’ll keep searching until I find her.
She’s out there somewhere … I know she is… .
An awful thought occurred to her then, chilling her blood: I can sense her, know what she’s doing, that she’s out there somewhere …
What if someone else is tracking her?
Chapter Six
“Are you certain of it?” Nataniel asked.
The dark-haired young woman, dressed in a black mini-skirt and silk blouse, who looked to be maybe twenty years old but was closer to two hundred, nodded seriously. “As certain as I can be. There’s a new magic in Los Angeles. I felt it two days ago, and again, yesterday afternoon. It’s young, strong, and glows like the lights on the Strip.”
“Are you sure it’s not one of the local elves?”
“They’re all dead or Dreaming, even Prince Terenil. No, this one’s human. Not a Bard, but still dangerous. I say we kill it before it becomes a genuine danger to us.”
“You would say that, Shari.” Nataniel turned away from her, looking out of the window at the lights below, at the brightness that turned night into day on the Las Vegas Strip. Even here, in his office on the top floor of the hotel, he could feel the vibrancy of life from the street below, the heat of human emotions. He savored the taste of it; this was his realm, this high tower and all within it. But it was not enough, it would never be enough. He always wanted more, always. “No. You won’t kill it, Shari. You’ll track it, report what you find, and then we’ll make arrangements to capture it and bring it here.”
“Why?” Sharanya’s fine, dark eyebrows drew together in puzzlement.
He kept the hint of irritation out of his voice. “Because it could be useful to us, Shari. Because I want it. Isn’t that enough?”
“Of course, my lord.” She bowed elegantly, but not before he saw the anger in her blue eyes. Have I deprived you of a choice Hunt, my dear? he wondered. Is that what you wanted, to hunt down this human mage and kill it?
“What of Perenor, the Seelie Lord? If he finds it first, you know he’ll kill it.”
A good question. He considered it thoughtfully. “Perenor is not of our Court, but he has been a valuable ally to us. I would dislike seeing our business relationship damaged because of this. Does he know of this new source of magic?”
Shari shrugged. “He’s not blind or stupid. This one burns like a flare in the sky. He’s probably hunting for it already. He might kill it before we can track it down.”
Nataniel steepled his fingers together. “That would be unfortunate. So … we’ll recruit him to our side. I have other coin to pay him with, other than a human mage’s blood. Do you think he’ll be able to track it that quickly?”
She shook her head. “It will take him some time. A human Bard, as you know, is obvious all of the time. This talent, however, seems to come and go. I can only follow the human when it is using magic, which makes findi
ng it a rather difficult proposition.”
“Then you’d best get started. You still have time to catch the 2:15 flight to Los Angeles … call me tonight with your report.” He smiled slightly as he saw her face go pale; flying in a jet aircraft, while not physically dangerous to their kind, was close enough proximity to a great deal of Cold Iron to make for a very uncomfortable trip. From the look on Shari’s face, Nataniel could see she knew this was her punishment, but also that she wouldn’t dare to defy him on this. At least, not yet.
She bowed again and left the office. Nataniel sat back in his leather chair, propping his feet on his desk. This was an unexpected but marvelous opportunity. He’d had a notion for some time about using a human mage for an unusual experiment. A young, untrained mage would be perfect. It was not that he needed any more magical power … after all, he was already the most talented mage he knew, short of that drunken and Dreaming wreck of a Prince, Terenil, in Los Angeles. He suspected that he could take even Lord Perenor in a fight, though that opportunity had never presented itself. But eventually, when Perenor was no longer useful to him …
You could never have too much, that was Nataniel’s philosophy. True, he was the Prince of this Unseelie Court, as well as a very rich owner of some of the best businesses and property in Las Vegas. Not to mention a powerful mage and skilled swordsman, with more human money and political influence than he could spend. But you could always want more. Always.
She was standing on a grassy hillside, seeing the stars above, the moonlight shining down upon her. Someone stood beside her, a guy with long dark hair and wild eyes. To her eyes, he glowed like a torch, bright with life and power. Around them swirled the creatures of night, living shadows that flickered and laughed silently. She held back a scream, feeling their hatred and their hunger. They wanted her, and the guy, in a way that chilled her blood. It took everything she had just to stand there, when she could feel them drifting closer and closer to her, reaching out to rip her apart …
She opened her eyes, sweating and shaking. It was too warm in the apartment, even though all she was wearing was a nightgown and sleeping under a single sheet. She remembered Roberta helping her change into the nightgown, after … after … She remembered Ramon carrying her up the stairs, and Roberta … Roberta sitting next to her. Vague images flitted through her mind: a damp washcloth on her sweating face, Roberta rinsing the washcloth in a bowl of water. The taste of warm soup in her mouth, as Roberta held another spoonful to Kayla’s lips, urging her to eat.
And the nightmares: dreams of awful shadowy winged monsters that chased her through a deserted city, a man with cold blue eyes who walked toward her with a glittering sword—a sword?—in his hands and raised the weapon to strike …
Maybe I’ve been a little sick, she thought, looking around the room. Someone had left a carved wooden cross on the table next to the bed, and there was an old black telephone next to it.
A telephone!
Kayla sat up too quickly; everything whirled around her, too bright and too fast. She fell back, closing her eyes and hoping that she wasn’t going to throw up.
After a few seconds, she tried sitting up again, this time very slowly. She picked up the phone receiver and dialed 411 for Information.
“What city, please?”
“I’d like a home phone number,” she said to the operator. “Elizabet Winters … she lives on Laurel Canyon, it’s either Hollywood or maybe Van Nuys, I don’t know… .”
“Please hold for the number.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Kayla listened to the mechanical voice reciting the phone number and repeated it to herself over and over as she dialed. Come on, Elizabet, answer the phone, answer the …
“Hello?”
Kayla wanted to cry with relief. “Oh God, Elizabet, it’s me, please, you have to help me …”
“Kayla!” Elizabet’s voice was sharp. “Tell me where you are. The street address, if you have it.”
“I don’t know, I’m somewhere in Van Nuys, an apartment building, maybe a couple miles from the courthouse. Wait, they wrote the phone number on the phone—it’s area code eight-one-eight, seven-six-one …”
A hand reached past her and pulled the plastic plug from the telephone, breaking the connection. Kayla looked up with a sick feeling in her stomach. It was one of the nameless guys in plaid shirts. He took the phone receiver from her nerveless hand and left the room with the telephone under his arm.
Kayla lay back on the bed, hot tears of frustration stinging at her eyes. She had to get out of here, somehow. Somehow …
* * *
She awakened again to darkness and the smell of smoke. A few feet away, she saw the glow of a burning cigarette, just bright enough to illuminate Carlos’ face. He was sitting on a folding chair and watching her.
She stared back at him as he slowly bent to crush the cigarette in a metal ashtray on the floor. “Are you well, girl?” he asked.
Kayla’s throat was too dry; her voice squeaked on her reply. “I’m okay.”
He shook his head. “You were very sick, and no one knew why. Do you know why you were sick?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Mmmm.” He gazed at her. “Why did you heal Jose?” he asked suddenly.
Kayla pulled the sheet tighter over her. “He was hurt. I didn’t want to see him hurting.”
“But he’s one of us. One of the people who are making you stay here.”
Kayla shook her head. “He was in pain. I couldn’t help but feel it. So I had to—had to—”
“Good.” Carlos smiled. “So you have to heal someone in pain, whether or not you like them? That’s good.” He stood up and walked to the door. “Get well, little bruja,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. “Already we need your help. Ramon was hurt last night in a fight. He’s out in the living room right now.”
“Ramon? But—”
Carlos smiled at her, a flash of whiteness in the darkened room, and closed the bedroom door behind him. Kayla sat quietly for a long moment, then got out of the bed. Her legs wobbled slightly, and she grabbed the night table for support.
When her legs steadied, she began searching the room for something to wear. After a few minutes, she found the bag of clothes that Ramon had bought for her, lying on the floor near the foot of the bed. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and the white blouse, then left the bedroom.
In the living room, she saw Carlos and Ramon sitting on the couch, talking in Spanish. Ramon looked up as she walked into the room and smiled. “Good morning, querida.”
“Carlos said you were hurt,” she said. “What happened?”
Ramon shrugged. “I didn’t move fast enough, so one of those city boys cut my shoulder with a knife. It’s nothing.”
“Take off your shirt and I’ll see what I can do about it,” she said.
Carlos stood up and walked to the door. “I have to meet Roberta at the pharmacy,” he said with an odd little smile. “I will call you later, Ramon.”
Kayla helped Ramon remove his long-sleeved shirt, and winced at the sight of the long cut across his shoulder. She went to the bathroom to search for anything she could use, and returned a moment later with a plastic bottle and several washcloths in her hands.
“It’s nothing, querida, only a scratch …”
“Hold still, this won’t hurt,” she said, tilting the bottle of medicinal alcohol to dampen the wadded washcloth. She put the cap back on the bottle and set it to one side, looking thoughtfully at Ramon’s shoulder. Ramon watched her with a look of trepidation in his eyes, especially as she put on her best “soap opera physician” look and said, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
She wiped his bared shoulder, and the long, shallow cut, with the wet washcloth. It really wasn’t a bad cut, but it needed to be tended properly… .
“Madre de Dios!” Ramon leaped up, knocking her and the bottle of alcohol onto the floor. “That hurts!”
“Don’t do that, you’ll just make
it worse!” Kayla protested as he grabbed his shirt off the back of the couch and rubbed his shoulder with it.
“But it hurts!”
“Okay, I’ll just wash it with soap and water,” she said. She walked a little unsteadily to the sink and squeezed some dishwashing soap onto a washcloth, wetting it under the faucet.
“Are you okay, querida?” Ramon asked, a concerned look in his eyes.
“Just a little dizzy.” She leaned against the sink for a couple seconds, until her head cleared. “I’ve only been out of bed for less than ten minutes, so I’m doing okay, I guess.”
“You were very sick,” Ramon observed, as she walked back with the wet washcloth. “I wanted to take you to the hospital, but Carlos said that we couldn’t. I’m glad you’re okay now.”
She carefully dabbed at the wound with the corner of the soapy towel, then wiped it dry with another cloth. “There. It’s clean now. I’ll see if I can do anything more for it… .”
She had never called the magic to her before—it had always happened on its own, never by her will. She thought about how to do that now, imagining the hot fire running over her hands, the bright blue sparks dancing.
Nothing happened.
She concentrated then, focusing on the cut on Ramon’s muscular shoulder, marring his tanned skin. She could feel it, the dull ache of pain, and reached to it… .
Everything went white for a long moment, and she felt like she was falling, falling …
She blinked, looking up into Ramon’s eyes. He was holding her … how had she ended up half-sprawled across his lap? She blinked again.
“Are you okay?” Ramon asked, concerned. “I saw the magic fire in your hands, then it faded away and you fainted.”
“I feel awful,” Kayla said from her awkward position in his lap.
“Maybe it’s the magic? Maybe that’s what happened, the magic is making you sick?”
“Let me up,” Kayla said, trying to sit up and falling back onto his lap. She was acutely aware of his bare arms holding her. All she was wearing was a light cotton blouse and jeans, but it suddenly was too warm in the small living room.
Bedlam Boyz Page 8
