L.A., however, was a haven for Others. Because it was a movie town, monsters and strange creatures abounded on-screen and, frankly, offscreen, given how many...unique individuals tended to migrate there. As a place to “hide in plain sight,” nothing filled the bill like Hollywood. That meant that the area was densely populated by Others, so there had to be a commensurately large number of Keepers.
Elven, like Alessande, were fairly recent arrivals in the New World; they were creatures of the earth. Ocean voyages—that much time away from trees, from the rich soil—would have killed them. Alessande had only left the Old World herself when transatlantic flight started to become commonplace.
She was an ancient, one hundred six years old, though she knew she appeared—in the human world—to be about thirty. She’d seen a great deal of the wickedness the world had to offer—wickedness dealt out by both human beings and Others.
Despite everything she’d encountered, everything she had lived through, she had chosen to heal, to advise.
But, damn it, she was an ancient! She should have been able to overcome whatever drug had been given to her.
She’d been aware of everything as it had been going on, and to some degree she had been able to fight the drug, though she had feigned complete passivity.
But...they had drugged her, and it had definitely affected her. Would she have been able to escape at the last second?
Now she was at the Gryffald family estate, a small collection of historic homes on a nice little hill in Laurel Canyon, collectively named the House of the Rising Sun. Sailor’s home was the main residence, and it was called Castle House, while on either side were the guesthouses: Gwydion’s Cave, where Barrie lived, and Pandora’s Box, where Rhiannon made her home. When their fathers, Keepers all, had been called away on international business, the cousins—Sailor, Rhiannon and Barrie—had been thrown into a game that was ages old, though mostly new to them, since they hadn’t expected to take their places as Keepers for years to come, yet the land had been deemed for Keepers for decades. The property had originally belonged to a magician billed as “Merlin,” real name Ivan Schwartz, who had been helped by the Gryffald cousins’ grandfather. Schwartz had added the guesthouses to his estate so that the Keepers could live on his property if they chose. Before he died, Ivan had sold the estate to the Gryffald family for such a pittance that for all intents and purposes it had actually been a gift.
Of course, it came with a catch. Merlin was still around, haunting whichever house he chose. He was a very polite ghost, often extremely helpful, and totally respectful of the inhabitants’ privacy, so in actuality he was a perfect tenant.
At the moment, though, Alessande was glad he wasn’t haunting Castle House.
Keepers had watched over various communities of Others at least since the ancient days, before accepted magic had ended and the world had become a place where the unusual was feared and anyone different, even if they were human, was considered an enemy to be burned at the stake or otherwise destroyed. Because the cousins’ fathers had been considered some of the wisest and most effective Keepers in the world, they had been called up to help form a council so that Others around the world would have guidance—and laws—to help them all live productive lives without attracting the kind of notice that would lead to a return of the bad old days.
Every Other—from the gnomes and leprechauns to the were-folk, vampires and shapeshifters—lived by the Code of Silence, keeping the very existence of the Otherworld secret from humanity. The Code was broken only occasionally and for very special human beings. Even the rashest Others, those with little respect for laws of any kind, upheld the Code, because the Code meant survival. Without it, they could all be doomed. While many in the Other community had powers that made them far stronger and far more lethal than human beings, the human population of the world was larger by perhaps 99 percent, and therefore the Others were vulnerable to persecution and death should their existence ever come to light.
Jonquil, Sailor’s big ragamuffin of a mutt, whined softly and licked Alessande’s fingers. She smiled and scratched the dog’s head. If only the world were made up of such creatures as this. Jonquil seemed to instinctively know kind people from the cruel ones.
Sailor was doing very well as an Elven Keeper now, though when Alessande had first known her, she hadn’t taken her position seriously at all. But that current knowledge gave Alessande a measure of confidence when she was speaking with her Keeper.
“I was always aware of what was going on,” she said. “I know that I appeared to be unconscious, but there was a part of me that was there. I believe I could have teleported when the right moment came.” Elven were strong, even if not as strong as vampires, and while they couldn’t give the illusion of being someone—or something—different, as shapeshifters could, they were able to teleport, moving through space, very handy in escaping dangerous situations. No one yet knew the science of it, but being an Other often meant that there just weren’t logical answers. No one really understood how shapeshifters managed to appear to be birds—and then fly away.
“Believe isn’t good enough when your life depends on it,” Sailor said sternly. She looked at Alessande. “Don’t get me wrong. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today, knowing what I know and doing my job with my mind focused on my responsibilities, if not for you. But, Alessande, I have to agree with Brodie and his vampire partner—you were risking your life, and you almost lost it.”
Alessande smiled; she loved Sailor, and knew her Keeper was being completely sincere. Alessande had been both healer and coavenger when Sailor had fallen ill to the Celebrity Virus, then had brought justice to its perpetrator—since the plague’s spread had been intentional. Alessande knew what she was doing when it came to dealing with the world’s—and the Otherworld’s—evils.
So she really didn’t understand why Brodie was so upset with her. Brodie knew her, knew she was capable of handling herself when the going got tough. As for the vampire cop—well, he was a vampire, and she didn’t expect a hell of a lot out of any vampire.
“Honestly, I knew what I was doing,” Alessande insisted.
Jonquil barked as if in agreement.
“This is the kind of situation the police need to handle,” Sailor said.
“The police? Oh, Sailor, come on. We both know that, in situations where Others are involved, the police are all but helpless.”
“That’s why Others are encouraged to join law enforcement,” Sailor said. “Whether you want to believe it or not, Brodie and Mark were anything but helpless at the cemetery.”
“I don’t care,” Alessande said. “We have to be involved when it comes to our world, Sailor. You know that. And even if they did manage to arrest a number of cult members, we still don’t know who’s behind it all. Someone is at work out there doing something far more vicious than merely creating a cult, and they have to be an Other. I believe it’s either a shapeshifter or a vampire, which is why it’s not such a great thing for a vampire to be working on this. I mean, seriously, a vampire policeman is really something of an oxymoron!”
“Oh, Alessande, honestly, that isn’t true,” Sailor said. Her eyes were wide as she stared past Alessande, who swung around quickly in her seat to find Rhiannon Gryffald had arrived, standing with her hands on her hips, watching Alessande.
She winced.
No, of course it wasn’t true, and she knew it. She didn’t understand her own behavior right now—she was usually cool, collected and serene.
It was the situation.
And maybe even the fact that she had almost died, but she had to remain in denial or give up on her ultimate goal.
And now, just as she had spoken carelessly, Rhiannon had walked in.
Rhiannon Gryffald was the oldest of the three cousins, and though she had not particularly wanted to come to L.A. when her father had headed off to form the international council, she had been the first to embrace her life as a Keeper—the vampire Keeper for the Valley. And
she was very much in love with Brodie.
Thankfully, Brodie was an Other—Alessande’s kind, Elven—so there was no awkwardness in trying to explain the Otherworld and Rhiannon’s role in it to him. He was a great guy and a good cop, and Alessande was fond of him—just as she was fond of the entire Gryffald family. But Rhiannon was quick, maybe too quick, to defend the basic decency of the Valley’s vampire population—and quick to take offense if they were accused of misdeeds with no proof.
“I’m sorry,” Alessande murmured.
“Vampires get a bad rap,” Rhiannon said. She tossed back a length of auburn hair. “I knocked,” she told her cousin. “I guess you didn’t hear me—over the rant.”
“Rhiannon,” Alessande said, “really, I’m sorry. It’s just that Brodie’s partner behaved as if I was some kind of idiot with no idea what I was doing.”
Rhiannon arched a brow. “You were about to be a sacrifice—if I heard correctly.”
“I would have teleported at the right time,” Alessande insisted stubbornly. “But first I would have figured out who’s behind the cult and the killings. Never mind. I’m not trying to be argumentative or cast aspersions on anyone. But this is ridiculous. When we left the police station, I agreed to come here to talk with Sailor, as my Keeper, but if no one’s going to take me seriously, then forgive me, but I really should be leaving.”
She’d come straight here—from seemingly endless hours of police paperwork. From questions that she answered as best she could when there was no true answer to some of them, or no answer she could give in the world of men. She’d been very careful, trying to be forthright without giving away any information that would make the human employees of the police department suspicious.
And worse, her car was at the impound lot. She’d had to ride with Brodie and Mark, and she was stuck here until she could ease her way out of the conversation and get someone to drive her home.
She spoke in an even tone to Rhiannon. “Forgive me. This— It’s senseless,” she said quietly. “The fact that you’re Keepers makes you responsible for dangerous situations, but it doesn’t preclude the rest of us from acting when those we care about are threatened. I really would like to just go home now, if you don’t mind.”
“Alessande,” Sailor protested gently. “We’re not attacking you—really.”
“No, I don’t mean to attack,” Rhiannon said softly. “If it seems like we are, it’s because we’re frightened—frightened for you.”
At that moment Barrie Gryffald, Keeper of the Valley shapeshifters, burst into the house. “I heard what happened! Oh, my God! Alessande—you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Barrie, thank you,” Alessande said.
“But you set yourself up—were you able to find out anything about Regina?”
“Regina?” Rhiannon asked.
Alessande lowered her head for a moment. She looked up at Barrie and shook her head slowly. “No. I’d hoped I’d be taken wherever she might be and that...”
“And that you could save her,” Barrie finished.
“She’s innocent and young and...she disappeared two nights ago now. I’m afraid. The longer she’s missing...”
Regina Johnson was eighteen and on her own. She’d come to L.A. straight out of a foster home in San Francisco. Alessande had met her when Regina had agreed to play a minor role in a fantasy movie being filmed at a small studio run by one of Alessande’s friends. That was a negative about being Elven, at least in Alessande’s mind. Many in the Elven community flocked to L.A. because they had excellent prospects for success in the movies. Elven tended to be blond, blue-eyed, statuesque and filled with a natural charm that the camera seemed to love. Elven who didn’t work in the movies tended to work on them.
“All right, yes, I did—do—want to save her. But that’s simply part of it. Okay, most of it,” Alessande said in a rush. “But it’s not only Regina. She was just the last to disappear, so there’s still hope for her. And I feel so bad for her. Growing up, she didn’t even know that she was Elven, didn’t know that there was a whole community of Others just like her, that she was normal...and she comes here, settles in, starts to work—and disappears.”
“You felt bad for an orphan because you were orphaned, weren’t you?” Sailor said.
“Yes,” Alessande admitted. Her situation hadn’t been quite as bad. She had never known her own father, but she had a brother two years younger from her mother’s second marriage; his father and their mother had been with them until dying in an accident when Alessande was seven and Conner five. After that they had been adopted by Elven parents and had grown up in a family where they were loved and understood. That had been back in Northern Scotland, many years ago. Her brother was still dear to her, but he’d remained behind in the Old World when she’d left in the middle of World War II, unable to stay behind after the love of her life had been killed during the invasion of Normandy. She loved her brother dearly, and one of them traveled back and forth every few years to visit. Her adoptive parents were still overseas as well, having chosen to retire to Cork, in Ireland. She saw them as often as she could.
Regina had not had the benefit of a brother or loving adoptive parents. She’d thought there was something seriously wrong with her for most of her life. Alessande had met her soon after she’d discovered what she was and had wanted to make the world right for her.
Then...
Then she’d been kidnapped—right when being kidnapped seemed to mean showing up dead just a few weeks later.
“The point is,” Alessande said, “Regina was the third young woman to disappear—and the other two were apparently held somewhere for weeks before they were dumped.”
“We all understand trying to save a friend,” Barrie said. She walked over to the sofa in front of the fire and took a seat, looking around Castle House as if she were assessing it—as if she’d never been in it before. Like the guest cottages, Castle House was eclectic, filled with old charm and curios.
The houses seemed to suit the unique personalities of the three women. Castle House boasted carved-wood details, and Alessande loved it. Her own cabin was built of wood, which was always comforting to her, and from it, she drew her strength.
Barrie was apparently trying to figure out where to start. A reporter, she was up on the news almost as it happened. “It’s true,” she said now, looking over at Rhiannon. “Leesa Adair disappeared six weeks ago. Her body was found two weeks later and—” she paused, wincing “—and the medical examiner said that she’d only been dead a day or two. Judith Belgrave disappeared four weeks ago, and her body was found just two days ago. Whoever is kidnapping these women is holding them for weeks before they wind up dead.”
Rhiannon had taken a seat on one of the overstuffed armchairs by the sofa, and now she looked from Alessande to Barrie. “But though they bled out, they were not truly drained. If a vampire were behind this, I guarantee you—a rogue vampire wouldn’t waste a murder. Those girls would have not had one drop in their bodies.”
Alessande winced. “I hate to say this, but usually when something involves magic and illusion—like this Sebastian Hildegard cult—shapeshifters are involved.”
“Naturally I’ve thought about that,” Barrie said quietly.
“Let’s back up a minute,” Rhiannon said, turning to Alessande. “Exactly how did you almost become a sacrifice to Sebastian Hildegard? Brodie and Mark were out at the cemetery earlier because an anonymous tipster had called and said that they suspected a ‘cult meeting with murderous intent’ would occur there at midnight. But what made you think that the cult was connected to the dead women and Regina’s disappearance?”
“And how on earth did you arrange to get yourself taken?” Sailor demanded.
“And why, if they were holding the other women before killing them, did they decide to sacrifice you so quickly?” Barrie asked.
Alessande looked from one cousin to another.
“I read the news stories about the other women
who were kidnapped and traced their routes—and I knew where Regina had gone the day she disappeared,” Alessande explained. “She had just gotten a job at the House of Illusion when—”
Sailor interrupted her with a tone of anger and impatience. “There’s been trouble there before,” she said. “But you know I work there, right?”
“Yes, I know that,” Alessande said.
“Between waitressing and performing there, I would have known if the House of Illusion was the last place those women were seen,” Sailor said.
“It wasn’t the last place they were seen,” Alessande continued. “But both dead women and Regina were there within two days of their disappearances. Nearby is an old studio—”
“I know it!” Sailor said, her voice growing anxious. “It was owned by the Hildegard family. It closed down thirty years ago and the land has been the center of a legal dispute between the city and the heirs for years now.”
“I know,” Alessande said.
“That studio is surrounded by a seven-foot wall,” Rhiannon said.
“And it’s right by a coffee shop and a gas station and a convenience store,” Alessande pointed out. “Regina called me the afternoon she disappeared. She was going to stop to get gas on her way home from the House of Illusion. And both of the other women had bought gas the day they went missing, too. Their cars were found with the tanks full.”
“How do you know that?” Sailor asked her.
“I went by the police impound,” Alessande said.
“And they just told you that?” Rhiannon asked.
“You found an officer, flirted with him—and read his mind, didn’t you?” Barrie said.
Alessande flushed; as long as the Elven could get a person to look them straight in the eyes, yes. Teleporting and mind reading were their talents. It had been an easy matter for Alessande to learn everything she had wanted to know from the officer who had been on duty at the impound. He had been human—and blithely unaware of the Others around him.
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