Midnight Reign

by Chris Marie Green

She wanted to believe that, because Breisi made it seem so possible with her rationality. But Dawn wanted to find him now. Wanted this all to be over, damn it, so she could know her dad was okay, so she could go back to normal. Whatever that was.

  Still, she followed Breisi’s advice, taking in a lungful of oxygen and allowing it to pacify her, to temper last night’s visit to Jessica Reese.

  “There you go.” The other woman smiled as they stopped at a red light.

  “It amazes me,” Dawn said.

  Breisi raised a brow in question.

  “Your faith.” Dawn shook her head. “For a woman with such a scientific bent, you’ve got a lot of it. Way more than I do, even if I’m always telling you that we really are going to find Frank.”

  “Faith is what has always kept me going.” The light turned green, and Breisi urged the vehicle forward. “Faith in my ability to defend my mother when my father would go on a bender and threaten us. Faith in my studies, because that was what would get me out of that house and into a better life at college. Faith in the church.”

  Dawn wondered if Breisi’s crucifixes might work better than her own in a vamp fight. Did believing in what they stood for matter? If so, she was in trouble. Having a mother taken away from you so violently and needlessly kind of helped with the whole lack-of-faith thing.

  “So…” She couldn’t say what she wanted to without choking a little, so she took another sip of water, coating her dry mouth. “I know you think I haven’t cared that much over the years, but there’s a lot between me and Frank that—”

  “That’s between the two of you, Dawn.”

  She shut up at that. Really, truly shut up. Breisi was right. Dawn couldn’t make anything up to Frank by apologizing to his girlfriend.

  In a smaller voice, one that sounded like the little girl who only wanted her daddy to be sober or to stop locking himself in his room at night and crying over Eva, Dawn asked, “You really believe we’ll find him?”

  With no hesitation, Breisi nodded. “Even if I don’t seem sure, I always believe it, deep down. I keep thinking that God would not have made me feel the way I do about Frank if I wasn’t meant to play a more important part in his life.”

  A more important part. Oddly enough, Dawn didn’t chafe at that. She imagined Breisi might’ve made aimless Frank pretty happy, balanced him out so he could function better. And, evidently, that’s exactly what had happened in the time before he’d gone missing. He hadn’t been Frank the screwup anymore; he’d held down a job, paid his bills. Unbelievable.

  From the back, Kiko breathed deeply, so relaxed that he was snoozing. It gave Dawn some courage to finally go where she never thought she wanted to before.

  “Were you the one helping him get his act together, Breez?”

  The other woman hesitated, then shrugged. “I suppose. But it was his choice to begin the process.”

  “Maybe you were the reason he did it.” She couldn’t believe she’d admitted that, but it felt decent, as if she’d finally caught on to something else she’d packed away inside of herself. Something she hadn’t dared open for fear of how much it’d destroy her.

  Breisi seemed to savvy how hard this was for Dawn. She flashed an easy smile. “You’d be happy to know that he was even starting to drink less. I made him smoothies, hoping that would fulfill some sort of craving, and he gulped them down without complaint. Blueberry.” She laughed softly. “That is his favorite.”

  A lump tightened Dawn’s throat. “Is. Is his favorite.”

  “Yes, is.”

  As another stoplight halted them, loud rap music from the Buick next door thudded through the floorboards. They took off at the green signal, leaving the clamor behind.

  “Did you guys…?” Dawn stopped. Then started. “Did you ever talk about marriage?”

  “We talked, yes.”

  Something snapped inside, a final link Dawn had been maintaining, one that joined Eva and Frank in all their romantic, whirlwind-marriage snapshots.

  “But,” Breisi added, “we had that big fight about Eva. I thought he still wasn’t letting go enough and he disagreed.” She bit her lip, then pressed both of them together before speaking again. “Now that I look back, he was right. I’m the one who wasn’t letting go of her.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Because she, herself, was holding on to Eva through Jac now, and it was time to claw herself out of this hole of bitterness and one-sided competition between a goddess mother and her mortal daughter. Time to just leave the hard feelings behind.

  But…panic fluttered at the thought of deserting such a vital part of her existence. What would she be without Eva?

  Rather than face down that question, Dawn relaxed, dealing with more immediate menaces instead. The menaces she was getting to know real well.

  “It must’ve been crazy, dating a fellow investigator.” She played with the label of the water bottle, tearing at it. “I mean, it’s bad enough tapping a regular coworker, but at least in normal life you don’t have to worry about your boyfriend fighting monsters for his paycheck.”

  “Not the best of circumstances, I agree.”

  “But it’s natural, I think, to gravitate toward someone you spend so much time with. It happens on every nine-to-five job, and especially movie sets. Damn, if we could keep a tally of how many costars fall into bed, the numbers’d populate a small country.”

  “It might be even more natural with someone in our business.”

  Our business. Could that possibly include Matt Lonigan? And what about The Voice? Did that mean it was perfectly natural to be hitting that?

  Dawn turned her entire body toward Breisi now. “More natural?”

  “Yes.” Breisi smiled, but it wasn’t a happy gesture. “Who else could I ever date, assuming that I’d want to? What would I say to a regular man I just met in, for instance, the hardware store? ‘Hi, I’m Breisi. I like building my own computers, taking long walks on the beach, and killing vampires.’”

  Laughing at the other woman’s candor, Dawn took up where Breisi had left off. “Because I did terminate a vamp last night, you know. One with red eyes and iron fangs—”

  “And burning spit—”

  Laughing even louder at how ridiculous it sounded, Dawn embellished. “And a belly button that can suck you inside and put you right in the middle of a tea party with Bigfoot.”

  Breisi laughed, too. It was nice to see. She didn’t go there much at all.

  “Yeah.” Dawn sighed, leaning back in her seat again. “That would impress any candidate for romance, wouldn’t it? He’d probably jet away from me on a stream of piss and fear.”

  When Breisi laughed again, then reached over to do a fist bump with Dawn, it was a jolt. Whoa—the two of them actually fully understood each other for what had to be the first time. To make matters more shocking, Dawn realized that she hadn’t thought about the reality of life for a record ten seconds. She’d never, ever guessed that Breisi could be the one who would give her that relief.

  Still, Dawn cleared her throat, the awkwardness returning in a small, yet obvious, dose.

  “So basically,” she said, “the key is finding a fellow monster enthusiast who understands my work.”

  A man like Matt Lonigan or even The Voice, right? Could they anchor her in the same way Breisi and Frank had anchored each other?

  Dawn now understood how Frank had moved on from Eva and his old life, truly understood how someone who wanted to change might be able to do the same thing.

  If they really wanted to change.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Breisi said. “Perhaps life might be simpler than we imagine.”

  They’d entered the impeccable streets of Beverly Hills, passing clipped, lush median greenery, pristine sidewalks, chichi boutiques and restaurants.

  Breisi inserted her earpiece and instructed her phone to dial The Voice. He answered, and Breisi checked in with their location.

  “Good,” The Voice said. “Mr. Crockett
seems to be wrapping up lunch with a partner from his firm.” Somehow, his tone was less emphatic than it had been last night.

  But it always had the power to tear through Dawn.

  “Can we make it to Beverly Hills before he leaves?” she asked, ignoring her yearning for him. Too much work to do. At least, right now.

  “If we don’t intercept him before he leaves Beverly Hills,” Breisi said, “we can just tail Crockett to wherever he’s going next. Actually, maybe that’s even a fortunate turn of events. Mr. Crockett is a part of the community here while we’re not, and if our attempted reading becomes a confrontation, Dawn, the local cops could interfere. Beverly Hills police are known for responding to their calls within a couple of minutes, and we don’t want that sort of trouble.”

  Breisi had taken extra care to emphasize Dawn’s involvement because Dawn occasionally got a little persuasive with her hands when it came to interviewing difficult people. Lee Tomlinson could testify to that.

  “Boss,” Breisi added, “where is he parked?”

  “His silver Ferrari is in an underground valet area on Two Rodeo. Before lunch, our Friends report that he was shopping for a bracelet at Harry Winston. He told the sales clerk it was for his wife. Then he took a leisurely stroll to The Grill from there. Our Friends will track him until you’ve made actual contact, just in case you should lose him.”

  “Got it, Boss.”

  “Harry Winston,” Dawn said. “Crockett bought a guilt present, I’ll bet. The wives score every time. Man, I wish we were detectives on a cheating husband case instead of…well, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.” The Voice’s volume had diminished even more, as if he really might have feelings—like regret—after all. “I—one moment.” He paused, then came back online. “Milton Crockett is exiting the restaurant and heading toward Rodeo. Godspeed.”

  And he clicked off.

  From the backseat, Kiko sat forward, rubbing his eyes. “Did he say a silver Ferrari? Imagine that in Beverly Hills. It should be really easy to spot.”

  They all chuffed, knowing a facetious comment when they heard one.

  They drove past The Grill, discovering Milton Crockett strolling toward the valet garage with the sun glinting off his graying hair and lawyerly glasses. Then they turned around, taking care not to look like they were casing any of the snooty stores. By the time he exited the garage in his Ferrari, they were in position to follow.

  Backtracking onto Santa Monica Boulevard while staying a respectable distance behind the possible Servant, Breisi attempted to avoid being obvious. Soon, they trailed him onto Fuller Avenue, which led to him turning into a condominium complex that wasn’t too fancy, but not downscale, either. The buildings were all two-story white adobe creations, resembling a nondescript pueblo village where the neighbors probably didn’t take pains to know each other, even if they shared common walls.

  “From Beverly Hills to this,” Dawn said. “What’s Crockett up to?”

  Kiko was leaning forward against the back of her seat, so his voice was almost in her ear. “The Winston bracelet, that’s what.” He didn’t sound as alert as usual, but it wasn’t bad enough for her to remark on it. “I’m thinking it’s not the wife who’s going to get it, if you know what I mean.”

  There wasn’t a security stop, so the team easily caught up to Crockett just as he was getting out of his car and heading toward a condo. Beyond the modest wooden gate, on the door, a golden kitty spread its paws, spelling out “Welcome” with childlike letter blocks.

  As Breisi cruised past, Dawn slid on a pair of oversized sunglasses that her coworker had brought for her.

  Veering around the corner and coming to a stop, Breisi kept the engine running.

  “Go,” she said.

  Dawn and Kiko wasted no time, leaving the SUV calmly enough not to scare off Crockett yet quickly enough to make sure he didn’t get away. Kiko circled around so he would be approaching the lawyer from the back. He stumbled once, and Dawn’s adrenaline ratcheted up a notch.

  But she didn’t have an opportunity to worry about him.

  “Excuse me, sir?” she said.

  Hand raised to open the wooden gate, the lawyer turned around, just as Kiko came into view behind him, advancing on quiet feet.

  Milton Crockett ran a gaze over Dawn, seeming to appreciate her bared legs most of all. He was shorter than he looked on TV, but he was still imposing, with his smooth suit and intellectual glasses. Even garbed in layers of silk, he seemed as cool as autumn. His expression was politely inquisitive, well suited to greet a female stranger who was dressed for a lovely lunch.

  Good. At least this asinine dress hid her real identity, one he’d probably be familiar with if he actually was a Servant.

  Dawn rushed to speak, gesturing behind her just to divert Crockett from the advancing Kiko for one more second. “I’m sorry to bother you, but is that building nineteen over there?” She smiled winningly—or the closest she could come to it.

  Acting!

  Crockett followed her pointing finger, and that was all the distraction they needed. From behind, Kiko grabbed the man’s hand, immediately closing his eyes in concentration.

  Startled, the lawyer jumped back, just as Breisi joined them. In spite of Crockett’s movement, Kiko still had a firm hold, his whole body clenched as he got a reading.

  “Robby Pennybaker,” Breisi said.

  She was using a phrase that would hopefully force Crockett’s mind where Kiko—and The Voice—needed it. On the Underground, not necessarily the murder. They weren’t giving anything away by saying Robby’s name, either, since it’d been public knowledge that they were investigating him.

  Gasping in obvious shock, the lawyer raised his other hand to cuff Kiko away, but Dawn whipped off her glasses and sprang to her friend’s defense, bolting Crockett against the gate. Sucking in a breath—of pain, terror?—Kiko backed away, out of Dawn’s line of sight.

  “Don’t you touch him!” she grated.

  Crockett’s nostrils flared at her garlic scent, but he wasn’t repelled, and she could look into his eyes without consequence, proving he wasn’t a vamp. But, this close up, she could see some kind of recognition burst open in his pupils, expanding the darkness over the light brown of his irises.

  He knows who I am, she thought.

  Yet he covered that really well, his expression hardening into a mask of outraged cluelessness in the next instant.

  “Who are you? I’ll have you arrested—”

  “Let’s go!” Breisi yelled.

  Taking stock of her position, Dawn noticed Kiko wasn’t around; he must’ve gone to Breisi already. So she pushed away.

  Then, on second thought, she straightened Crockett’s fine collar, his tie, and looked into his eyes the entire time.

  God help him if he was a part of the vamp nation, because if they had Frank…

  “Sorry for the inconvenience,” she said.

  Letting go of Crockett, she held up her hands in mocking defiance, then walked backward as the growl of the SUV hit the air. Behind the outraged lawyer, the condo door began to open, and Dawn took off toward the sound of the engine.

  It was a bitch to run in heels, but she’d done it as part of one stunt gag before. As she got to the car, she saw that Breisi had already flipped the license plates to false numbers so they could avoid getting IDed. Once they were clear, the press of a button would change the plates back to normal.

  The moment she hopped inside, Breisi charged off, and Dawn fought to close the door.

  “He’s got to be one of them,” she said, turning toward the backseat so Kiko could hear her. “Right?”

  Back stiff, the psychic seemed to draw into himself, looking more fearful than Dawn had ever seen him.

  “I don’t know,” he said, voice shaking. “I didn’t get anything.” He closed his eyes. “Nothing at all.”

  SIX

  BELOW, ACT ONE

  LATER, just after the sun buried itself below the hori
zon, Milton Crockett bowed before a powerful Underground vampire in fearful respect and remorse.

  “You,” Sorin said through clenched teeth, “have been compromised.”

  Merely moments ago, after awakening, the vampire had been reclining near the clear-water lagoon of the emporium, enjoying the attentions of a Groupie. The sounds of the waterfall had sluiced over him as lovingly as his partner’s tongue, her fangs, her long body. This Persian female was his favorite pet, talented with her mouth. Though Sorin adored her, he had been slightly dismayed that she, along with three other male and female Groupies, had recently chosen to shave their heads in a fashion statement of modern chic. Certainly, as a whole, the fun-loving vampires were prone to the trends Above, but this time Vashti, who had so named herself upon taking her Underground vows, had displeased him. Her “punishment”—if their exotic activities could be termed so—was even now occurring, her lips worshipping him to arousal.

  Now, as the Servant Milton Crockett submitted himself before Sorin, the vampire eased Vashti’s smooth head away from his lap, his unfulfillment doubled by what the human had just revealed.

  A single bead of sweat dripped from the lawyer’s face to the lagoon sand. “Master, Dawn Madison and her friends can’t be certain of what I am. I’m confident they’re only following up on Robby Pennybaker’s case, nothing more than that.”

  Master. No one but the elite citizens knew that Sorin was merely a double, a bodyguard who took the place of the true leader for security reasons. That was how it had been these past fifty years, since this particular Underground had been established. However, these days, the real Master disguised himself and mingled among the populace more and more frequently.

  As he was doing now.

  While mist from the waterfall gathered on the air, one cloud remained more solid than the others. The wispy tendrils wove through each other, beautiful and deadly.

  The Master. Dr. Eternity, as the Elites had named him. The creator of this Underground paradise.

  Do you hear this Servant? Sorin thought to the Master, accessing the Awareness a vampire and its child could use to silently communicate. The threats Above are growing even stronger.