I pulled out a chair from his desk, swung it around, and straddled it. Camille and Delilah hung back. They really weren’t fond of Wilbur and usually let me do the talking when we had to approach him. He was more touchy-feely than any of us liked, but I was best at forcing his dick back in his pants. Metaphorically speaking. I hadn’t actually had to touch it. Yet. At least, so far.
Wilbur sounded grumpy, and as usual, he took the low road. “That chair ain’t all that comfortable, baby. You can straddle my cock instead.”
“Dredging the bottom of the barrel, Wilbur.” By now I was used to the come-ons, and I bundled them up and turned them right back on him. At first, I’d threatened to pulverize him, but now I realized they were just part of his nature and I let them pass.
“Can’t blame a man for being off his game some days.”
“Wilbur, you’re off your game every day. Anyway, so . . . Julian?”
“Alex Radcliffe, yeah . . . I know him. Good sort. Rebel spirit like me.”
I wanted to say that Wilbur’s spirit was well beyond the rebel stage. That he’d crossed the line into psycho, but I kept my mouth shut.
He frowned, thinking. “Julian? A vampire-sorcerer? I know there have been several, but most, I met them down in the jungles when I was in the service. They were a fucking scary bunch—you don’t want to go up against their type. Ruthless. You think I’m a pain in the ass, they’re far, far worse. Up here, though? Nope. If I’ve met him, it wasn’t under that name.”
“Okay. That takes care of that.” I stood. “We need to get a move on.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay? Jeopardy marathon on.” And then, a glint shimmered in Wilbur’s eye and it hit me. He professed to being a misanthrope, but the man was actually lonely. And he was too abrasive to make friends easily.
“Thanks,” I said softly. “But we have to get going. Maybe another time.” As we left the house, he turned the volume up and the last we heard was Alex Trebek saying, “The question is, What is premeditated murder?”
On that note, we headed back into the howling storm, hoping to find ourselves a dragon.
***
Shimmer had bought herself a house, stuck Earthside as she was for five years. She lived on the edge of the Greenbelt Park District, where you could buy houses for a song and a dance. Too many places stood empty there, due to the nose-dive the district had taken over the years. A lot of short sales, a lot of foreclosures. Economically depressed compared to the rest of the city, the Greenbelt Park District was a hard sell. A real buyer’s market as long as you didn’t mind ending up with a ghost or two in the mix.
The house Shimmer had purchased was a two-story bungalow. One wall was covered with ivy, and sheltered by a large fir tree. Two cedars towered from the backyard, and the front was an overgrown tangle of fern and moss roses. The house looked old, probably built in the thirties or forties, and while it had the same air of disrepair that the rest of the neighborhood had, there was a sense of emerging renewal to it. In some areas the garden had been driven back, entangled brambles hacked away to reveal mossy grass.
The vines over the trellised arch that ushered visitors onto the sidewalk to the house had been trimmed, and while there were still spiders aplenty in the jungle of leaves, only a few of the argiope orb weavers sprawled across the entrance. The striped garden spiders built intricate and beautiful webs, and weren’t poisonous, even though they struck terror into many an arachnophobe’s heart.
Alex and a man who looked to be in his late twenties were waiting by a dusty brown Ranger Rover held together by large patches of primer and rust. As we hauled ass out of my car, they walked over to us.
“This is Ralph. He’s my IT guy for the agency. As I told you, he’s a werewolf.” Alex clapped Ralph on the shoulder, which almost knocked the Were off balance.
Ralph ducked his head in what seemed to be a hello. He was lanky and wore dark glasses that were a John Lennon throwback. At five-seven or -eight, he wasn’t particularly tall, and he dressed in cargo pants, a Doctor Who T-shirt, and Doc Martens.
After a flurry of hellos, we turned to the house. There were no lights on inside, not that we could see. A dim streetlamp next to the curb gave us enough light to see our way through the gate. Alex went first, bringing down the spiders with a big-assed knife that he produced out of a sheath hanging on his belt.
We reached the door and Ralph rang the bell. No answer. He rang again. No answer, again. Finally, after a third time, he produced the key and unlocked the door. A hush whispered as he pushed it open and slipped inside.
Alex followed, then my sisters, but I was stuck on the doorstep. Obviously, Alex had been invited inside before, but since I never had, and it was a private residence and not an apartment building or public shop or frat house, I couldn’t cross the threshold.
With a sheepish grin, Ralph turned to me. “Come in, please.”
Where the force fields emanated from, no vampire seemed to know, but they were there all right, until the invitation was given. Once the invite had been issued, however, the boundary vanished like smoke in the wind and I was able to move through the doorway.
Shimmer’s house was tidy. For someone thrown to the wolves, her world in complete upheaval, her home reflected a calmer nature than I would have given her credit for. Plants filled the room, nothing exotic, but full, vibrant twining ivies and philodendrons and potted violets.
A large aquarium covered two-thirds of one wall and it contained a rainbow wall of fish, some neon, others striped, still others shimmering and nearly translucent. The living room wasn’t spotless—books were scattered around on various tables. Shimmer liked mysteries, that much I could tell by the titles. She also seemed to like cookbooks. A bowl of half-eaten potato chips rested on the sofa, but the room felt comfortable and homey and welcoming.
I stopped to admire a large framed picture of ocean waves. They were cresting against a background of clouds and lightning, and while it was a stormy scene, it was also eerie and beautiful. The water was alive, and I could easily picture a dragon rising out of the roiling sea.
Ralph motioned toward the stairs. “Somebody check her bedroom? I’ll go check the kitchen.”
We spread out, Camille and I heading upstairs. Again, the bedroom was tidy but not spotless, but the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in. A filmy nightgown was tossed across one chair, and fuzzy slippers sat beside the bed. As we poked around the room, a shout from downstairs alerted us. I turned and headed for the stairs, Camille on my heels.
We hit the first floor to see Alex reeling, an arrow in his shoulder. Another arrow lay on the floor, surrounded by glass. Delilah was nowhere in sight, and Ralph was trying to drag the vampire away from the window, which was broken. With one glance to make sure Alex was okay and not turning into a pile of dust, I headed out the front door.
Delilah was already outside, searching in the general direction from which the arrows had come. I joined her, sweeping through the grass. If there were any sign of footprints, they were buried in the heavy vegetation.
I wandered into the street, looking in both directions, but there was no sign of any departing vehicle, nor could I hear anything. But the wind had picked up and we couldn’t hear much of anything except the howling through the trees.
Delilah made her way over to me. “I have no clue where our bowman went.”
“Or who he . . . she . . . is?” I glanced at the tangle of Shimmer’s yard. “And we still don’t know where Shimmer is. I doubt if she’d stand outside her own house to take a potshot at Alex.”
“He’s okay?” Delilah pulled her jacket tighter around her as we headed back to the house.
“Whoever it was missed his heart. The first arrow broke the window, the second must have been fired immediately afterward and hit Alex.” As we pushed through the front door, Camille was kneeling over him, holding an arrow, which was a bloody
mess. Her hands were stained with his blood, too, and Alex was eyeing her like a candy bar.
“Excuse me, what’s going on? Alex, my sister is not a snack.” I pushed between the two. “Where’s Ralph?”
Camille nodded to the sofa and I turned to see geek boy passed out on the cushions. “I asked him to help me pull the arrow out of Alex’s shoulder and he tried, I’ll give him that, but the second we started, he keeled over in a dead faint.”
“Ralph’s a sensitive type guy.” Alex grinned at me. “He can’t handle the sight of blood, at least while he’s in human form. Werewolf form? No problem. And I’ll have you know, your sister may have my blood on her, but I wasn’t going to bite her neck. I don’t drink from friends or coworkers. I’d have pulled the arrow out myself, but I can’t get the right angle to keep the barbs from catching in the flesh.”
Camille held up the weapon. “He’s right, it’s barbed. And I’ll tell you something else, it’s got one hell of a spell cast on it. It has a message embedded in it. Give me a moment and I should be able to trigger the magic so we can find out what the hell is going on.”
As she fiddled with it, Delilah knelt by Ralph, who groaned as she slapped him lightly on the face. A moment later, he shook his head and slowly began to sit up. Alex was back on his feet, the wound on his shoulder closing as quickly as it had formed. But his jacket had taken a nasty tear and I had the feeling he was more upset about that than he was about being attacked.
“Fuck!” Camille jumped back as a flash sparked against her arm. “That hurt! Damn sparks.” A moment later, a layer of paper, previously unseen, unfurled from the shaft of the arrow. She gingerly removed it and opened the scroll. “It’s our message, all right.”
“Read it.” I shook my head at Alex, who reached for it. “You just lean back and finish healing, dude.”
He snorted, but obeyed.
“Hmm, it’s written in a rather ornate script. Let’s see what it says.” Camille frowned as she skimmed through the message. “Lovely. Just lovely.”
“What? Read it.” Alex leaned forward, frowning now.
With a long sigh, Camille sat down at the desk. “Okay, here we go. But you aren’t going to like it.”
She cleared her throat and began to read from the scroll.
“Alex, I imagine you didn’t expect to hear from me after all these years. In fact, my guess is that you thought I’d forget all about what you did to Glory and, by default, to me. But unlike you, I have a long memory. And I intend to make you pay for every insult you sent my way, from fucking my wife to being responsible for my death.
“To wit: I have kidnapped your lovely protégée. If you do not deliver yourself over to me by midnight tomorrow night—November fourth—I will turn the dragon into a vampire and send her after you and everyone you know. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, you don’t like blood on your hands. Not my kind of blood. Directions will follow tomorrow evening. Obey them. You know I’m not joking. ~J.”
***
Alex hung his head. “He’s really here, and he has Shimmer. We have to find her. I’ve done some reckless and stupid things in my life, and will probably do so again, but one thing I won’t abide is innocents being hurt because of my actions.” He glanced at us. “Will you help me, girls?”
Without a word, we nodded. Shimmer was in the hands of a ruthless vampire, who was also making himself anathema in the vampire community. We had ample reason to go after him. And only one night in which to discover his whereabouts. The thought of what a dragon-vamp could do in Seattle was terrifying. Shimmer could, even with limited powers, wreak havoc that we might not be able to counter.
“Okay then,” I said. “Let’s activate that homing device. And we’d better hope we get to Julian before he gets to us.”
Chapter 5
First things first. Alex needed to return to his office to retrieve the sensor that would indicate when we were near Shimmer. “It’s not precisely the same as a GPS—it won’t tell us exactly where she is, but when we’re within a mile, it will begin to flicker with a blue light. A steady light means we’re within a thousand yards, and the brighter it gets, the closer we are.”
“What good did the Wing Liege think that would be? It’s not much more than a glorified Trace spell.” Camille shook her head.
“I don’t know. It’s better than nothing, I guess. And since she can’t return to the Dragon Reaches, she’s soil–bound and can’t plane shift. Thank gods for small favors, right?”
I let out a little growl. “We also need to find out where Julian’s hiding his vampire club. He’s behind both of these problems, and finding him means putting a stop to the rogue attacks going on. At least we know who’s behind them now. Small favors, I guess.”
I didn’t feel comfortable staying in Shimmer’s house even one more minute, but considering that Bette had said Shimmer talked about meeting Julian online, the next step was to search her laptop. Ralph had set it up for her, so he knew her password and was able to log in without a problem. He pulled up her e-mail and, with me watching over his shoulder, began to sift through the letters.
Apparently Shimmer had taken to shopping online, that much was apparent, and she also subscribed to several Supe e-letters. There wasn’t much else there, except one folder labeled JE.
Alex let out a muttered curse. “That’s got to be him. Julian Eichmann. His last name was Eichmann.”
As I watched over Ralph’s shoulder, he flipped through the e-mails in the file. There were at least thirty of them, and we started with the oldest first, which was dated two weeks ago. One thing became clear in the first few letters—Julian was representing himself as a Were, not as a vampire.
The letters were mostly a batch of get-to-know-you notes, the usual favorite movies, colors, foods, conversations. But Julian quickly stepped up the pace and it became obvious that he’d done research on Shimmer. Either that or he truly was psychic—there were far too many coincidences in what they liked and believed.
“Normally, I’d look at these and say they were destined to find each other. But knowing what we do, it’s obvious the freak has been stalking her. He targeted her from the start. Is there any indication as to how they met?” I straightened my shoulders and folded my arms across my chest. Sick fuck, he was.
Ralph quickly sorted through the remaining mail. “Looks like he placed a personals ad in the Supe Community Action Council newsletter. Hey—look what I found!” He turned around so quickly his glasses almost flew off his face.
I leaned back in again. The e-mail was brief and it was dated a week ago.
Hey, Shimmer—what say we meet, finally? There’s a park close to your home, and it would be the perfect spot for a moonlit picnic—say 8:00 PM? I know you work nights but maybe you can go in a couple hours late? Please—I’d love to meet you and the idea of a blustery autumn picnic sounds so romantic.
Meet me at Severance Park. Don’t let the entrance to the park throw you off—it only looks like a tangle from the outside. Once you get near the center, there’s a lovely spot for a picnic, and a shelter that is protected from the rain. We can light a fire, have dinner. I’ll bring everything. You just have to show up. Please say yes!
***
“Apparently, she did. I just checked her sent e-mail and she told him she’d meet him. That’s the last note she received from him.” Ralph let out a long sigh. “I can’t believe she fell for that guy before she ever laid eyes on him.”
“It happens all the time.” Camille shook her head. “So, she went there, met him, and . . .”
“And he charmed her,” Alex said. “I doubt if he fed from her, though. I would have known. In fact, I know exactly when this happened. She came into work a few hours late—she’d asked for permission and I gave it to her. She told me she had to visit a sick friend. When I spoke to her on the phone, she was pleasant—well, as pleasant as our int
eractions ever get. But when she showed up for work later that night, she acted like a surly snot-nosed brat. Bette even mentioned that she must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, or that she had the dragon equivalent to PMS or some such comment.”
“So he’d managed to start working on her psyche.” I frowned. “Obviously, his goal was to use her to kill you, but that didn’t work, so he’s changed plans and now he’s using her to bring you to him.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t think of that in the first place.” Alex frowned. “Maybe he did. Maybe she missed me on purpose. She didn’t try again—and the woman is freakishly strong. Maybe we’re playing into his plans right now. Julian loves head games. Except he didn’t expect Carter to get involved. He probably expected Ralph and me to show up here in order to figure out what’s been going on.”
“We can speculate all we like, but the fact is: his plan might be any any permutation of the possible answers. Whatever the case, if we have any luck at all on our side, Julian won’t know that my sisters and I are helping you. He’ll be expecting you and Ralph to track him down without outside aid. Let’s see . . . he’ll be expecting you to investigate the park—which we’re going to do. But prepare for traps. Julian has played this out cunningly, from what I can tell.”
“Did you stop to think that he may have seen the rest of us here?” Delilah asked.
I thought about it, then shrugged. “Ten to one, whoever delivered the arrows wasn’t Julian himself. He’s bound to have lackeys, and he’s been siring off vamps right and left. Chances are he sent somebody to do his dirty work for him. But whether they’ve reported back to him or not? I don’t know.”
“What I want to know, is how did he know when we’d get here?” Alex asked.
That thought had also crossed my radar. But it seemed to me that Julian would have expected them to follow Shimmer home the night before, after her attack on Alex? So he should have had someone lying in wait here then if that was the case. I glanced around the room. Everything seemed in place, everything seemed normal.
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