by Kelly Meding
“Maybe he didn’t know,” Mom said. “Maybe he rented it for someone and he didn’t know.”
I snorted. “That’s lame.”
“You’d rather believe Julius capable of conspiring with a necromancer?”
“No, but Julius wasn’t an idiot, Mom. He wouldn’t blindly rent a storage unit for someone else, and then not know what was going on with it. He just wouldn’t.”
“How were his financial circumstances?” Tennyson asked.
“He never complained about money,” I replied, certain of where his train of thought was leading. “We all get salaries. If he needed money, he could have asked any of us.”
“A man who leads a team of warriors,” Tennyson said. “A man who came up through the military ranks and understands country above self. Do you truly see this man asking charity of anyone?”
“Before he sides with this kind of evil? Yes.”
“And if the debt was larger than money? Of a grander scale?”
I slammed my palm against the dashboard. Little lights winked behind my eyes. “Bless it, I don’t need conspiracy theories, I need answers.”
“So ask him.”
Three simple words. They didn’t compute. Not at first. Then I remembered how Julius had screamed when he saw the crime scene. Those agonized shrieks still echoed in my mind. Had he screamed like that while being tortured to death? Did he walk down those steps on his own steam? Could he have possibly known his fate?
“Not here,” I said. “Not in the car. We need to go back to headquarters and regroup. I have to call Novak and tell him what’s happened.”
“Can you not use my phone?”
I forced a breath through clenched teeth. “No, because I’m such a friggin’ techno-brat that I can’t remember any of their actual phone numbers.”
“Techno-brat?”
I almost told him to bite me, then thought better of it. “Switch with me.”
We ended up playing musical chairs, with me landing in the driver’s seat, Mom up next to me, and Tennyson back in the rear. My entire skull hurt—I swore my hair even hurt—but with the sun touching on the horizon, he’d need the extra protection. We had a little over an hour’s drive ahead of us.
Tennyson’s phone rang forty minutes into the return trip.
“Drayden,” he said, before answering. “Yes?”
Habit had me checking his nonexistent reflection in the rearview. Mom stared straight ahead, lost in her own thoughts. If her sense of betrayal was half of my own, then she was in some serious emotional pain.
“Of course,” Tennyson said. “Thank you, Drayden.” He shifted forward and held his phone out to me. “It seems your incubus is quite clever. He hasn’t been able to reach you, so he sent a police officer to track down one of my people in order to seek me out. He now has this number and will be calling momentarily.”
“Thank Iblis,” I said, and took the phone. Sure enough, it rang again less than a minute later. “Harrison.”
“There you are,” Kathleen said. “Where have you been, between dimensions again?” That was as close to a joke as I’d ever heard from her.
“I fell down some stairs and broke my Raspberry.”
Pause. “To someone else that might sound strange.”
“Oh, no, that’s not the worst part of my night, trust me.” I didn’t want to elaborate over Tennyson’s phone, though. Not about this. “Look, where are you?”
“San Diego. We’re meeting the Homme Alpha in the morning.”
It is morning perched on the tip of my tongue, until I remembered the time difference. “Look, I have a lot to tell you, but it needs to wait until I’m at HQ and back on a secure line. Can I call you guys back in about an hour and a half?”
“Yeah, the three of us are resting at a hotel until our eight o’clock appointment. The Homme Alpha is much stricter about schedules than the Dame Alpha.”
“Well, even werewolves need their beauty sleep, I guess.”
Behind me, Tennyson snickered.
“But you’re all right?” Kathleen asked. “Jaxon wants to know.”
No. “Yeah, I’m fine. Any other reports of massive vampire activity?”
“K.I.M. has collated contact information on over a thousand known vampire employees who failed to show up for their legitimate employment yesterday. Since they cannot be identified on sight by their lineage, she cannot tell which vamps belong to which Masters.”
Getting together in large groups was worrisome, but given the circumstances, not altogether unexpected. The good news? No more blatant displays of aggression. “Thanks, Kathleen. I’ll call you soon.”
She said good-bye. I handed the phone over my shoulder. Tennyson slipped it from my fingers with a gentle brush of cool skin. I was grateful for the call. I felt less isolated from my friends, less like I was floundering alone in the dark.
It wasn’t until I had turned down the road of our cul-de-sac that I realized I was about to commit a serious breach of security by taking a vampire into our headquarters. Something I’d have never considered doing twenty-four hours ago. Funny how your perspective can change so radically in a day.
I entered my security code at the outer gate—a twelve-foot-tall, iron job that ran the perimeter of our ten acres of land, all the way to the back of the helicopter pad. Heat sensors scanned the Element and verified two hot spots (me and Mom) and one cool spot (Tennyson). The revenant didn’t even register on the scan. I tucked that information away, then accepted the scan as correct. The outer gate swung inward. I drove through and it closed automatically behind us.
The second gate was fifteen feet inside the first, only this was one was invisible. Like those underground dog fences, the interior perimeter was set to electrify if anyone or anything got through the first gate without the correct authorization codes. The setting was high enough to knock even the strongest vampire for a serious loop.
We passed without incident. I parked on the street, at the top of the cul-de-sac. Each of us had something to carry. Mom took her overnight bag from the rear. I snatched her bread-and-water-bearing tote. Tennyson was stuck with the cake carrier. He tucked it beneath his cloak, which he’d pulled tight around his body. The hood was up, tugged low to protect his face.
He waited until we ladies were in the foyer and then made a dash from the car at the still-open door. He stopped at the threshold and gave me an expectant look.
Here we go. “Come in,” I said.
He did. I shut the door. The downstairs had quite a few windows, especially on the east side. Almost instinctively, I walked around pulling drapes and shutting blinds. They stared at me from the hall until I realized they were waiting to be told where to go. Neither of them had been here before. I could count on one hand the number of non-team members who had. Ever.
“Mom, there are some spare rooms upstairs if you want to put your bag down,” I said. “First on the left and second on the right. Don’t go into the one that smells like popcorn, that’s Jaxon’s room.”
To Tennyson: “Put the revenant, um . . .” I cast about for a good holding place, only it didn’t seem to matter much. Julius wasn’t walking off on his own, and when the hell had I started thinking of him as “the revenant?” “Put him anywhere. Just don’t go around messing with stuff, okay?”
“I will not meddle in your private affairs,” he replied stiffly. “I would not insult my host in such a manner.”
Had I just insulted him by insinuating he’d insulted me first? Or maybe that was a dig at how I’d acted at Brighid’s home. I had acted foolishly and lost my temper.
Mom had disappeared upstairs. I ached to follow her. I wanted a long shower, a good meal, and at least twelve hours of sleep. Instead, I had an unpleasant phone call to make.
Tennyson deposited the cake carrier on the kitchen counter—for some reason this made my sleep-deprived self snort giggles—and followed me into the conference room. I stalked over to K.I.M. and turned on the audio interface.
“R
ecognize Harrison, Shiloh,” I said.
“Recognized,” replied K.I.M.’s digital voice. Not unlike an automated telephone service line. “Query.”
She had a query? “Proceed.”
“Perimeter sensors indicated a cool source in an approaching vehicle. Source is likely vampire. Is a vampire on the premises?”
“Affirmative.”
“Security protocols restrict—”
“I know security protocols, but circumstances are a little abnormal right now.”
“Query. I did not understand. Please rephrase.”
I sighed. The audio interface with our supersmart and supercomplex computer system was pretty sweet—most of the time. K.I.M.’s programming required specific phrasing of questions and answers for her to process information and form coherent replies. “Disable security protocols surrounding vampires.” I gave the computer my code clearance.
“Processing,” K.I.M. said. “Security protocols disabled.”
Good. The last thing I needed was for one of K.I.M.’s sensors to decide Tennyson was a threat and spray him with silver dust—only one of many fun, built-in security features of the house, and why it was our safest location right now.
“Query,” I said.
“Proceed.”
“Display United States map overlaid with known addresses of all missing vampires.”
“Working.” Next to the audio gear, a twenty-four-inch computer monitor flashed to life. The map appeared first, with Hawaii and Alaska off-set on the left-hand side of the screen. Tiny red dots sprouted like fast-growing fungus all across the country. “Task complete.”
Kathleen was right—not much of a pattern.
“What does this tell you?” Tennyson asked.
“Nothing useful,” I replied. “Just that whoever was taking vampires did it from all over. I guess to try to hide what they were doing for as long as possible. Six vampires missing from one town is more suspicious than one from six towns.”
“Until Masters begin missing their children.”
“Right.”
K.I.M.’s desk was a huge old thing, strong enough to hold her massive setup, without losing its antique aesthetic. I tugged open the bottom drawer—it tends to stick—and retrieved a brand-new Raspberry. “Activate communication device A-S-54,” I said.
“Command accepted,” K.I.M. said. “Device activated.”
“Identification Harrison, Shiloh. Transfer all necessary data.”
Her system whirred. “Transfer complete.”
“Remarkable,” Tennyson said. “Your technological advancements are astonishing for a small group on the government’s payroll.”
“K.I.M. was a gift.”
“And the computer’s upkeep? These grounds? Your security measures?”
I knew what he was getting at, but I wasn’t in the right headspace to entertain the theory that maybe some of our fund came from less-than-savory sources. I powered up the new Raspberry while I stalked into the kitchen. Dialed Novak’s number. Hungry as I was, nothing in the fridge or cupboards was appealing. Maybe I’d hack off another hunk of zucchini bread.
“Novak,” he barked over the phone.
I set it to speaker, placed the phone on the counter, and hopped up onto a stool. “Hey, is everyone with you?” I asked.
“They’re here. What’s going on, Shi?”
I started with my mom and why I dragged her into things, detailed the magical snare and my tumble through an imaginary floor, the symbols we’d discovered in the pentagram room, and the cops kicking us off the premises. They let me talk for the better part of fifteen minutes without interruption, until I told them about the rental agreement.
We rehashed the same explanations I’d debated with Tennyson.
“He never talked about money problems with any of you?” I asked. “Mentioned it casually, commented on even having a storage unit?”
“No,” Kathleen said. “He rarely spoke of money in any capacity in my presence.” To which Jaxon added, “Ditto.”
“Putting aside the issue of money,” Novak said, “what other possible reason could Julius have had for cooperating?”
No one had an answer.
“Have you asked him?” Kathleen asked. “He is still with you?”
“He’s here,” I replied, eyeing the container on the counter less than an arm’s reach away. The screaming in my head began again, which only made my ebbing migraine roar back to colorful life. I’d told them about his reaction to the pentagram room, but had no words to truly describe those shrieks.
“Well?”
“All right, hold on.”
Tennyson handed the carrier over to me, and I smiled my thanks. He’d stayed silent throughout, well aware I hadn’t told my team he was inside. Novak was likely to blow his stack. I pulled the lid off and put it down on the counter.
Julius woke up immediately, his brown eyes rolling wildly, taking in his surroundings. He fixated on me, and I allowed him to focus. No screaming, thank Iblis. “Shiloh,” he wheezed. “I had the worst dream.”
“What did you dream about?” I asked.
“A star. Fire.”
My stomach twisted. “What do you remember about the star?”
“Fire.”
“Was the star on fire?”
“Yes.”
Okay, he could mean the five lamps lighting the room, or he could mean literal fire. I’d smelled charred wood, but saw no evidence of it. Metaphorical fire? “Julius, I need to ask you about something real, okay? Not about your nightmare.”
“Sure, kiddo. Why can’t I feel my legs?”
I closed my eyes briefly, drawing on every ounce of calm left in me before opening them again. “Do you remember renting a storage unit last winter, down south in Virginia?”
He stared at me like a stone drunk who’d just been asked to spell his entire name backward. “Last winter . . . I . . . no. Why did I rent a storage unit?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“Everything’s so fuzzy, Shi. Wasn’t your mom here?”
“She’s upstairs.” The lettuce around his head was wilting, giving the entire presentation a truly macabre look. If I didn’t quit having conversations like this, I was going to lose it. “He doesn’t remember.”
“Are you certain?” Novak asked.
“Yes, I’m certain.” I snapped without meaning to, and couldn’t bring myself to care. I needed answers, bless it. I replaced the lid and sealed it tight, then shoved the thing across the counter. Away from me.
Tennyson showed me the screen of his phone, where he’d been typing out a message: check his house for records.
I nodded. “Look, Novak, I’m going back to Julius’s house to look around. See if he keeps any financial records in his desk or in a safe somewhere. I’m not getting anything by sitting around questioning his head.”
“All right,” Novak replied. “Keep your eyes open—our enemies know where he lives.”
“I will.”
“Hey, Shiloh?” Jaxon spoke up. “Where’s the vampire?”
I flinched. Oh, well. No sense in lying now that he’d asked. “Sitting about three feet to my left, why?”
“You took him inside?” Novak roared, at the same time Jaxon said, “What?”
“What did you want me to do with him? Hand him an umbrella and leave him outside the gate to get third-degree burns while I regrouped?”
Novak growled softly—the only further disagreement we had on the matter.
“Look, call me when you’ve spoken to the Homme Alpha,” I said. “Or I’ll let you know if we find anything at Julius’s house.”
“Understood.”
I don’t set out to piss off our incubus. It just sort of happens. Occasionally, it seemed like taking orders from a female impugned on his manhood, which was a very serious thing for an incubus. Most demons, actually—a breed heavy on the male-side. Understood was his grumpy way of protesting my decision to allow Tennyson access.
“Shall I accompany you?” Tennyson asked.
“Huh?” I was staring at my phone and looked up at his question. “Where?”
He canted his head at the cake carrier. “His home.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell my mom where we’re going—”
K.I.M.’s perimeter alarm sounded. The squeal was constant, like a stuck microwave timer. Tennyson beat me back to the computer interface, a reminder of just how fast he was. K.I.M.’s main screen flashed to a shot of the outer gate. A single figure stood next to the code box.
“K.I.M., magnify central image.”
The security camera angled in on the figure. He or she wore a long trench coat that brushed the asphalt, buttoned all the way up to their throat. Gloves covered both hands. It looked like a scarf had been wound around the person’s neck and chest, and further protection came in the form of a floppy-brimmed hat.
“Vampire,” I said. No one else needed that much protection from the rising sun.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the vampire raised their right hand and waved at the camera.
“K.I.M., scan intruder.”
“Command accepted. Scanning.” The screen split in half. The left remained the recorded image, while the right shifted into a heat-signature scan. The image ran cool, just like Tennyson’s. “Nonhuman signature detected. No weaponry detected.”
“Open external audio.”
“Command accepted. Audio activated.”
I picked up a small microphone attached to one side of the computer system. “This is private property,” I said in my best who the hell do you think you are? voice. “State your business.”
The vampire angled their head toward the lockbox, attention never diverting from the camera. They had good enough eyesight to see the cameras we’d hidden around the property. “Is this Para-Marshal Shiloh Harrison?” he asked. His muddled accent, sharper on the S and growling the Rs, put a big sign on his head that said PIOTR.
Chapter 10