Great, now I had two missing kids to deal with, unless… “Were you thinking about her son when you died?”
“Fuck yes, bitch was screaming about him. You should have seen the holy terror in her eyes.” He laughed, probably not realizing that terror had killed him. I wasn’t going to risk telling him that until I had more information. The dead didn’t stick around much past sunrise. They almost never lasted once you told them they were dead.
“Where can I find her to deliver your message?”
“I told you she took my job, didn’t I? So look there, out at the studios, where she thinks they give a fuck if you treat the animals all nice like. Bet her little boy isn’t getting treated nice. The people Hank sells to, they don’t just hunt them, they fu—”
“You’re dead.” It was the meanest thing I could think to tell him.
“What?”
“You’re a corpse rotting somewhere. She killed you.”
“She…” His mouth started to work, but no sound came out. Then he started a high-pitched wailing as his body bled and shook with pain. His image rewound, looked whole, but an attack started, claws going into his belly, something tearing at his throat. The damage happened in real time. Less than a minute of destruction until he looked like he had when he first arrived. He cried and begged for her to stop, reliving the attack.
Outside, the California sun kissed the earth. I got out of bed and opened the blinds. Normally the dead look at the sunlight and gently fade into it. Not him, he screamed as if the sun added to his wounds. Everywhere the light hit him he disappeared, leaving his soul punched out like someone dropped bleach on a drawing. As more light came into the room, the Swiss cheese of his spirit finally vanished completely.
“Well, that was new,” Ted said from the bed.
“Yeah, they don’t usually do that.” I pondered it for a second. “Maybe he’s the first really evil one?
“Maybe if your soul has enough holes in it you don’t go gently into the light?”
Before I could think of some deeper philosophical contribution, the baby cried in the living room.
“Aw, crap, Leo,” I moaned, not ready for the one-two punch of the visiting dead guy and crying baby.
“He has a name?” Ted asked, getting out of bed.
“Douglas named him. Please tell me you’re going to get coffee.”
“I’m going for the baby. Get a shower. I’ll have the coffee ready by the time you come out.”
I thanked him with as much love as I could muster on my way out of the room.
My shower was fast, but Ted was faster. Using the baby care package Mom had sent home with me he’d dressed, fed, and was now smiling at the perfectly content child.
“You’re pretty good at that.” I made a beeline for the steaming mug of coffee on the counter.
“I used to play with the babies at the refugee camps. Their mothers needed a break and I needed the happy time.”
I nodded. He looked satisfied to sit on my couch and make funny faces at the little guy.
“Hey Leo.” The baby didn’t turn. “Nala.” He turned, his big green eyes locked on me. “Uh-huh, Nala Renji.” The baby giggled. “Thought so. I just found your mom little guy.”
“Fascinating,” Ted decided.
“Not really, just logical. Slimeball died thinking about the kid, so his spirit came here, to the kid.”
“And we got treated to the most disgusting morning show ever.”
“I still wonder why you can see them when no one else does.”
“Because I’m in the same room? Usually touching you? It’s not like I can hear them.”
I thought about mentioning his mom’s psychic ability, and how I bet she could see them and hear them if she was with me. The smile on his face stopped me. It was too early to bring his mother up.
“Well, you didn’t miss much. Just the dead guy being evil and telling me how he stole Nala Renji’s son from her. Gave the kid to someone named Hank, and now she’ll never get him back.”
“He’s wrong on that last one.”
“Very wrong.”
“Did he give you any way to find her?”
“He said something about a studio. I’m hoping Jeremy can help.”
“Go call him, I’ll keep the kid busy.”
“We’ve got breakfast,” I reminded him as gently as I could.
“Right, breakfast.” He shook his head. “Why don’t you call me with whatever time we’re supposed to meet them, and I’ll go home to get changed.”
“And I’ll drop the baby off on my way to pick you up.”
“Sounds good,” he said, but tight lines of tension had formed around his eyes. For a second, I hoped his mom did pull something, so we could all be done with this.
My mother’s house felt like home, even though I didn’t live there anymore. I never knocked, and I always expected to find things exactly as they were. This morning I didn’t. Instead of Mom in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast, she was with Gina in the living room. Slick-looking dresses spread out over every square-inch of furniture.
“Don’t let that baby spit up on anything,” Gina hissed.
“Gina!” Mom practically shouted. “Tell your sister good morning.”
“Good morning, don’t let the baby spit up on anything.”
“No problem.” I swallowed at least two acerbic comments for my mother’s sake. “Good morning, Ma.” I kissed her on the cheek, enjoying the brush of contact. Mom felt safe, like comfort and warm cocoa on rainy days. “What’s going on?”
“We’re picking bridesmaid dresses,” she explained.
“Shouldn’t one of the bridesmaids be here?”
“But I’m the bride,” Gina sang.
“And that means what?” The tension between us made the baby start to fuss. In another minute he might just spit up on one of the slippery light purple dresses. “Damn, I’m sorry, Mom, could you?”
She did, immediately quieting the baby.
“Actually, I was hoping you could take him again today.”
“Lizzie, you know this is dangerous—” Mom started.
Gina cut her off. “And we’re going wedding favor shopping!”
Mom looked a little pained, maybe all the wedding stuff had finally gotten to her.
“I found out his mother’s name. Now it’s just a matter of tracking her down.” I turned from Mom to Gina. “But I need Jeremy’s help for that. Why don’t you come into LA with me, and we can meet up with him. You two can go shopping and he can bring you home.”
Gina’s look softened as she considered it.
“It’s Jeremy’s wedding, too,” Mom put in.
“I can’t. I’ve got to work,” she groaned.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask when the shopping event I had ruined was going to happen if she had to work but Mom stopped me with a look.
“I’m sure Lizzie will be home by the time you’re done with work. We can still go shopping, and I can help your sister out.”
“She’d better be because—”
“Gina! We talked about this. Now put these dresses away. You know I don’t like any of them. And bring me down some wedding magazines so I can look at the favors in there.” Having given orders in her mom-voice-that-must-be-obeyed, she turned to me. “Kitchen, now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the swinging door from the living room shut, I faced my mother, her blue eyes looking like chips of gray steel above Leo’s sunny blond hair.
“Your sister is going overboard with the wedding. I won’t deny it, but don’t you goad her.”
“Mom, I didn’t—”
“Lizzie.”
I nodded meekly, feeling very wronged.
“And this baby needs his mother, not tomorrow or the next day, today.”
“I know, I…” I stopped myself, no time for explanations. The werewolf breakfast meeting needed to start soon. “Mom, I agree with you. I’m going to go out right now and find his mom. I’ll call
you as soon as I have her, okay?”
“Okay.” She put the baby down in the playpen. “This is too dangerous. If you can’t find his mother soon, you need to take him to the police. Elisabeth, women do crazy things when their babies are in trouble.”
I called the hotel where Vincent and Susan were staying from the road. I expected them to have separate rooms but when Vincent picked up, I heard her in the background. Maybe they were sleeping together. Did that mean Amy got her own room? Of course, the whole pack might be lovers, I had no way to know. Ted might, but he wasn’t going to have time to fill me in. They wanted to meet us at Don’s Diner in just ten minutes.
Thankfully Ted hopped into my car fully dressed for work, with his hair gelled just so and wearing a cheerful Serenity polo.
His smile wasn’t so cheerful. “You’re armed, right?”
“Of course.”
“With silver bullets?”
“Wouldn’t bring any other kind,” I assured him.
“We want a table, not a booth. I want to be able to move backwards if I need to, not be trapped by furniture.”
“Fair enough.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I.” And that ended our conversation until we got to the front door of the diner.
“Sure you want to do this?” I asked.
“No.” He waited a second. “But I’m going to.”
Don’s main room held fifteen booths and about half as many tables, with a long counter stretched the length of the back wall. It was nine, so the morning rush had slowed to a crawl. A few of the town’s finest senior citizens ate grapefruit at tables. At the counter, old codgers I’d seen at the VFW sipped coffee and rehashed the morning news. In the back of the room, in the most hidden booth of all Susan looked stunning and Vincent read the newspaper.
“You two grabbing breakfast?” The hostess smiled at us but Ted didn’t smile back.
“We’re meeting a couple of friends. They’re in the back booth but we’d rather have a table, can you set one up for us?”
She nodded, and went off to fix it. Ted followed her, leaving me to be an emissary to the werewolf table. Maybe he expected us to sit down and force them to come over but I didn’t want to be openly hostile, not right off the bat. I was saving that for when things got bad.
“Good morning,” I said when I got to their booth. I put on my best great-to-see-you smile and arranged my thoughts to match it.
“Good morning, Elisabeth,” Vincent offered.
“She’d rather you call her Hicks,” Susan commented sullenly.
“A little, but not enough to correct people.” I gave her my second-best smile, and turned my first-best back on for him. “It must be murder having someone guess every thought just as you have it.”
He chuckled, and I suspected he would have said more if she wasn’t there.
“So Edward wants a table, not a booth?” she asked, but didn’t wait for me to answer. “He liked booths better when he was younger.”
I shrugged. If she was going to read my thoughts before I said them I might as well not say anything. Instead, I led everyone over to the table.
“Mornin’ Ted, ‘Lisabeth.” Our usual waitress, one of only two in the place, waved to us. This was the part where a decent small-town citizen introduced their guests. Ted kept his mouth closed.
“What’s the special, Candi?”
“Huevos rancheros, and for you I’ll have Don make it extra spicy.”
“We’ll take two.” Ted passed her the plastic-covered menus.
“No meat, right?” Candi checked. Ted’s lack of affection for bacon always threw Candi for a loop.
He nodded and added, “With the usual drinks.”
Candi raised a heavily-tweezed eyebrow at him, but Ted didn’t catch it. His mother ordered a steak and eggs, both rare. Vincent ordered ham and eggs with sausage on the side.
“Don’t you like sausage anymore?” his mother asked.
“I don’t eat red meat. Ever.” Ted didn’t bother to hide the hostility in his voice.
She ignored his tone. “There’s something you need to know.”
“Really?” Now he sounded sarcastic.
“You’re keeping me out of your head.”
“You shouldn’t be there anyway,” he waved it off. “I worked with psychics, lots of them. Most of them think it’s incredibly rude to eavesdrop the way you do.”
“Well, they aren’t Pack.”
“Neither am I.”
“But someone else is, someone you risked a lot for.” She pushed her chin up and toward the door of the diner. Amy walked in as if they’d rehearsed it. She was pretty in the morning light, her long brown hair braided into a thick plait hanging down her back. She had wide brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose. I suspected Ted had a crush on her as a kid, and looking at her I could see why.
“Hi Teddy bear,” Amy greeted him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Relaxing. Walking down the street without worrying someone will grab me and kill me. I haven’t been able to do that for a while.”
“So you’re with the Pack?” he asked for his mother’s benefit.
“For a few years now. I help people the way you helped me. Well, I’m really not that heroic, but close.” Around Susan her smile was guarded, her shoulders hunched. “You don’t know most of the Pack now. They’re all new. The bastards—” She stopped mid-sentence with a gasp.
I looked over at Susan. She was probably doing some psychic thing. I almost reached out with magic to check, but it seemed too risky.
After a second, Amy started like she’d never stopped. “The people that hurt me are dead. The only folks left from the camp are the ones on the fringes. The good people.” She glanced at Susan like a dog that finished doing a trick.
Ted’s mother took it from there. “Good people who want to make a life for themselves and their children. I knew I couldn’t convince you on my own, so I brought Vincent and Amy to help. The Pack is a family. You were part of it once, and now it needs you.”
A cold silence fell over the table. I studied the tile floor, its black and white checkerboard pattern pebbled with crumbs. My eyes moved to the white counter, looking a little gray now with age, then to the cheerful yellow tables. I was about to study the coffee cups when Candi came back over and rescued me.
“Someone new? Let me put down the coffee pot and get’cha a menu.”
“I’m fine, thanks, just coffee,” Amy answered softly.
Candi swiped a cup from a nearby table without missing a beat. She pried as she poured coffee for all of us. “Are you all visiting?”
“Just for the day,” Ted answered for them.
“Oh I don’t know. I could stay a little longer or even come back,” his mother needled him. Whatever dig or remark came next, I didn’t want Candi to hear it.
“Hey Candi, did Don make any of his famous muffins this morning?”
“Sure, it’s Wednesday, so they’re blueberry.”
“Would you grab me one?” She scooted away and I tried to start a real conversation. “So Vincent, tell me about where you live now?”
“A few years back it was a small hotel, but then it was empty. We’re slowly turning it into everything we need.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, there’s a classroom downstairs, rooms that connect for families upstairs. We’ve got a dining room with an industrial kitchen. Next, I want a computer lab for the kids.”
“How many kids?”
“Seven in grade school with me. The older kids go to public school.”
“There’s a public school that takes werewolves?” Ted asked, sounding surprised.
“We don’t change anyone until they’re eighteen now,” his mother answered.
“How very progressive of you,” he told her. “It’s practically legal.”
“Why are you behaving this way?” she demanded, her voice quiet but angry. Amy squirmed in
her seat, looking as uncomfortable as the rest of us felt. Vincent sipped coffee quietly. Before Ted answered, Candi arrived with our meals. She passed them out with her usual commentary.
“Don said to remind Gina to call him about the rehearsal dinner.” As usual Candi remembered the gossip but forgot the food. I wasn’t going to get my muffin.
“And Don made yours with those little white peppers Mrs. Kim brought in. He knows how you like it spicy.” Ted’s plate landed on the table. “And two more for our first timers. What brings you to Osceola?”
“Thanks, Candi, that’s all we need.” Ted shut her down with a phrase that might have passed in the city but counted as rudeness in our small town. My coffee would be good and cold before it got any refills.
“Tell me more about the disappearances,” I tried to bring the conversation back to neutral ground.
“They always happen around the full moon, and it’s always someone from the old days, even if they haven’t been around for a while,” Amy explained. “That’s why we came now, if someone’s going to disappear it’ll be soon.”
“Wait, I thought last night was the full moon?”
“Did you notice me barking?” Susan asked me dryly.
“No, but I’m babysitting a werelion and he’s changed every night.”
“Babies and the newly turned change just about every night. As you get older and stronger, you can control it. That’s another reason we don’t turn kids until they’re eighteen. We don’t want them to shift over a bad grade on a history test or something.”
“That’s noble of you,” Ted said, but his mother ignored him.
“How many of your people can control the change?”
“Me, Vincent, maybe five others.”
Vincent corrected her, “Just two, the others have disappeared.”
“You’re losing the older wolves with better control?”
“Not always,” she took over again. “The more time you spend shifted the less you think like a person, the less you want to control it. A few of the ones we’ve lost, they spent almost all their time as a wolf.”
“Nothing in common,” I thought out loud.
Missing, Suspected Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective Page 12
