by AE Jones
I knelt down in front of Bobby Joe. He was trembling and mumbling to himself. I concentrated, changing his memory slightly. Instead of a glowing-eyed demon, a masked man grabbed him in a chokehold and tried to rob him. I pushed the image into his brain quickly, including me shooting at the perp and missing. When warmth bubbled along my forehead, I transferred the new memories, winding them into his jumbled energy threads. After a few seconds, his eyes refocused, and he stopped mumbling. He had absorbed the new memory.
A voice called out from the side of the building. “Kyle? Are you okay?”
“Manuel, back here. Someone tried to mug Bobby Joe.”
I leaned back on my haunches. I had never wanted to use my power to manipulate anyone’s memory again. I was sad to learn I hadn’t lost my touch.
Chapter 2
I plopped down on my bed, rubbing my eyes. Even though it was late, I was wide awake, my thoughts bouncing around like ping pong balls. I had spent four hours at the police station, weaving my own version of events, one which did not include demons. The detective I spoke with almost made me leave Stanley behind as evidence, but I convinced him to let me fire a couple of rounds for him to keep instead. It wasn’t as if they would find the bullet to match for ballistics anyway.
Dwight had been nice enough to let me live in a part of the hotel currently being remodeled. My room had seen better days. Faded geometric wallpaper with cheap, black, mid-century furniture…it was my home sweet home for the time being. I wasn’t sure yet if Mesquite was part of my long-term plans, so the hotel worked as temporary quarters.
The question of the hour was whether this newest memory-erasing experience would have a lasting effect on me. I longed for the days when all I experienced was a small headache after a mind sweep.
But last August it changed, after I erased Trina’s memory of her kidnapping. For the first time, I had not only absorbed memories, but her emotions as well. The bitch about it was the memories felt like they were my own.
And after I erased Dalton’s tortured memories, they invaded my thoughts, too. Plus the name Thomas Wilson kept popping into my head. I couldn’t shake the feeling this Wilson was related to something big—as in apocalyptic big. And that was when it got really scary. Had absorbing Dalton’s memories made me the new owner of the prophesied Key half the supe nation was fighting over?
I scooted back and leaned against the headboard. Reaching for my laptop from the bedside stand, I booted it up. Every night it was the same exercise. I researched Thomas Wilson. And there were a lot of Thomas Wilsons. Truthfully, I had no idea how to narrow it down. I wasn’t sure if he lived in the United States. Hell, I wasn’t sure he was still alive…or if he had ever existed, for that matter. With nothing to go on but the name, I couldn’t narrow my search. But I couldn’t let it go, either.
As usual, I didn’t find anything. Before I turned off my computer, I hesitated. Sighing at how predictable I was, I opened up a new search and typed in another name: Joe Dalton. Why did I keep doing this to myself? A number of news articles appeared. Most of them I had read so many times I had them memorized. Cop Single-Handedly Thwarts Serial Killer. In reality, the killer had been a power-hungry vampire and his sire who wanted to rule the world. So the events had been altered. Even Dalton believed this fabrication, thanks to my handy-dandy power.
Today, there was a new news blip on his name. My fingers shook as I clicked on the screen.
Lieutenant Joe Dalton of the Cleveland Police Department has been selected to join a special FBI task force. The task force was formed in response to the growing number of murders in the Midwest. The team will be headquartered in Chicago. According to Dalton, the assignment is a great opportunity, and he looks forward to working with his fellow law enforcement officers. Last August, Dalton was instrumental in solving a serial killer case…
I smacked the lid shut on my computer. I couldn’t read any more. He was doing well, which was what mattered. Without me. Which unfortunately also mattered—to me, at least.
A knock on my door interrupted my pity party. I frowned. I rarely had visitors, especially—I checked the clock—at midnight. I picked up Stanley and stood to the left of the door in case someone decided to go Serpico on me and kick it open. The knocking got a bit more insistent.
“Kyle McKinley?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Will Seaver. I work for Nicholas. Can I come in?”
“Sorry, Will, don’t know you from Adam, so no can do.”
“Talia’s also with me. She’s parking the van and should be here any second.”
Talia? As in Jean Luc’s ex? This should be interesting. “We’ll wait until she shows up, then.”
After a few more seconds, I heard mumbling outside, and then a rich alto voice resonated through the door. “Kyle, my name is Talia, and I work for Nicholas. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me in.”
I peered through the peephole. She was even more beautiful than Jean Luc had described. Her amazing mocha skin and super-short curly black hair belonged on a fashion runway.
I clicked the bolt lock and opened the door. “Hold on…” Before I got the rest of my sentence out, she blinked out of sight, and a rush of air blasted past me. I turned, and she was now standing in the middle of my hotel room. Damn vampire super speed.
Her dark brown eyes had flecks of gold that twinkled with mischief. “You know I could just bust the door down if I wanted to, right?”
I unclenched my hand from around my gun handle. “I would hope you’d have more tact.”
She inclined her head. “Nice to meet you, Kyle.”
“And you. So you’re on the Vegas squad. I bet it keeps you busy.”
“Yes. Nicholas added two extra teams here in the past few years. Vegas has become a large vacation draw for supernaturals.”
“And they get into trouble while they’re here.”
“Yes they do. This is my partner, Will.”
I gave him a once-over. He was Caucasian, with a shaved head and green eyes. He appeared to be in his forties, but with supes you could easily be off a century or two.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” he said.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“You’re somewhat of a legend in the network. The only norm—I mean, normal—member of the supe squad.”
“I’m not offended if you call me a norm, and I’m a former member. So what’s with the social call?”
Talia spoke up. “We got an anonymous tip saying you had a rumble with a Haltrap tonight.”
“Word travels fast. He tried to outsmart one of our big players in Texas Hold ’Em, and when it didn’t work, he got nasty.”
“And how did you handle it?” Talia continued.
“I shot him.”
Will chuckled. “Had a hunch I’d like you.”
“It wasn’t my first choice, but he was choking the guy, and he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“What happened to the Haltrap after that?”
“Not sure. He ran off, and I erased the norm’s memory.”
“We’ve been having a lot of problems with Haltraps lately.” Talia walked slowly around the room. “Are you working a case we need to know about?”
Where had that come from? “No. I’m not in the business anymore.”
She turned to me. “Do I need to call Cleveland to confirm it?”
I grinned. She was a spitfire. No wonder Jean Luc had fallen for her. “Sure. I can give you Jean Luc’s number if you want to call him. Or not.”
Will perked up. “Jean Luc? Talia used to work with him and Misha. She doesn’t talk about them at all, though. I’d love to hear what you know.”
Talia glanced at the minute scar on my wrist. I tucked my hand into my pocket. Did she know it was Jean Luc who had bitten me? The gold in her eyes sparked before she narrowed them on my face. That would be an affirmative, and she wasn’t too happy about it.
I turned to Will. “Yep, I worked with both Jean Luc and Misha for abou
t ten years, but I won’t fill you in on anything. You’re awfully nosy for a shifter.”
“How did you know I’m a shifter?”
I shrugged. “You’re too animated for a vamp. And you have a ‘cocky shifter vibe’ rolling off you.”
He glared at me. “I’m not cocky!”
Talia chuckled. “Right. Why don’t you show Kyle those mug shots of Haltraps, so she can maybe ID the demon and we can let her get some sleep.”
We sat down, and my phone rang, vibrating on the Formica table. I was suddenly very popular. I looked at the name on the screen. I hit reject.
Will looked up from the screen, and his eyes widened. “Was that Griffin, as in the head of the shifter packs Griffin, you just hung up on?”
“Yes, I don’t feel like talking to your leader right now. Can I see those pics?”
Fifteen minutes later, after an unsuccessful mug shot search, I walked out to the parking lot with Talia and Will. Talia climbed into the driver’s seat of a black van and screeched out of the parking lot. Good Lord, she drove like Jean Luc. Was every vamp a closet NASCAR driver?
I got into my own car and went trolling for Doyle.
It didn’t take long. Mesquite has three main casinos, so the odds were good he would be in one of them. I found him in the second one. He was perched on a stool, paper umbrellas littering the bar. If the number was any indication, he had been there for a while. Demons have a high tolerance for alcohol, so I couldn’t tell if Doyle was drunk or not.
I sat next to him and ordered a beer. He scowled at me but didn’t try to run. The bartender set my beer down, and I took a swallow before speaking. “You been making phone calls tonight?”
“What are you talking about?” His eye twitched.
“Wow, Doyle, you are such a bad liar. I don’t know why you ever thought you could be a con man.”
He snarled, “Shut up, Kyle.”
I leaned toward him and regretted it immediately. Pungent alcohol fumes surrounded him like a cloud. “Why did you make an anonymous call to the supe squad tonight?”
He shrugged. “I was afraid you would go off half-cocked and get yourself killed.”
“It almost sounds like you care,” I said.
“I just didn’t want Jean Luc and Misha coming after me if something happened to you.”
“So what was the scam tonight?”
He sighed. “The Haltrap has empathic ability, and he was sensing the human’s emotions to see if he was bluffing or not.”
“How did you play into this?”
“His empathic ability works better if other demons are around. He uses us to increase his powers by feeding on our energy.”
“So he’s the equivalent of a power leech? What’re you doing getting mixed up with a Haltrap? They’re bad news, even for you.”
He glowered morosely into his fluorescent blue drink, and his defiant posture deflated so much I almost thought he would slide off of the stool. “It’s Coleen.”
This couldn’t be good if it was about his wife. “Did she throw you out?”
“No.”
“Is she sick?” I persisted.
“She’s due for her next Kevlick cycle in March. She wants to have a child.”
I choked on my beer and coughed for a good minute. It was uncomfortable gasping for air, but it gave me time to think about what the hell I was going to say. Demons can only procreate during fertility cycles, which decreased the chance of unwanted pregnancies. Since Dalmot demons’ females were more powerful than the males, they had control over their cycles.
“That’s great. Unless you don’t want a kid?” I asked cautiously.
“Sure I do.”
“Are you afraid your swimmers aren’t up to the task?”
“Of course they are!” he sputtered.
“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
Doyle reached for his drink and finished the last swallow of his fruity concoction before answering me. “I just thought I’d be in a better place by now. Coleen deserves more than a second-rate pawn shop owner. Now we’re throwing kids into the mix.”
I gaped at him. “Holy hell, Doyle, you’re having a mid-life crisis!”
“I’m not having a mid-life crisis. Buncha human psychobabble, anyway.”
I peeled the label off my beer before continuing. “I should have seen it coming, what with your comb-over. It’s a dead giveaway.”
His hand moved up to the top of his head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Face facts. A strong breeze and your top hair flaps like a sail. It’s time to cut it off.”
His mouth dropped open, and I braced myself for a heated response. Instead, he laughed—a high-pitched sound like a hyena, but it was the first time I had ever heard him laugh, and it was nice.
“Fine, I’ll get a haircut tomorrow.”
“And you’ll stop running away?” I added.
He snorted. “That’s pretty hypocritical, coming from you.”
My stomach tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If Nicholas didn’t fire you, then what the hell are you doing living in Mesquite, Nevada?”
“I needed some time to figure things out,” I growled.
“And have you?” he pushed.
“Wow, I think I should order whatever you’re drinking. Alcohol makes you philosophical.”
“Now you’re avoiding the question.”
“Fine. I don’t have any answers. Are you satisfied?”
“Go home, Kyle. If I can face Coleen, you can face your demons as well.” He chuckled at his own joke and stood up, wavering a bit.
I stood, too. “I’ll think about it.” Since when did I take advice from Doyle? He smiled sloppily at me. I liked this mellow version of him. “You’re not driving anywhere tonight, I hope.”
“Nope, I have a room here. I’ll leave for home tomorrow.”
“Just remember, Coleen must love you or she would have incinerated your ass a century ago.”
I watched his retreating form while I paid my bill. Maybe now I could crawl into bed and get some sleep. I unlocked my car door and settled into the leather seat. Turning on the ignition, I sat for a second, waiting for the heat to kick on.
Nights in the desert could be cold. Nothing like Cleveland cold, but I still relied on my heater to take the chill off. Tonight I had goose bumps running up and down my arms. I rubbed my sleeves, hoping to warm up, but tensed a second later. The shiver that ran along my spine had nothing to do with the cold. Someone was watching me.
I canvassed the parking lot but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Actually, I didn’t see anyone or anything at all. Was the Haltrap back for a little revenge?
After a second, the sensation passed. Lately I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling someone was watching me. Maybe I was getting paranoid. Although after the evening I’d had, a little paranoia might be in order.
Chapter 3
The next morning, I tucked Stanley into his holster and put on my jacket. I still had an hour before my shift, but I wasn’t one to sit around doing nothing. It wouldn’t take long to poke around and find out more about the Haltrap. If he was following me, I wanted to be at least one step ahead of him.
I stopped by the casino restaurant for a cup of coffee, since I hadn’t slept well after my discussion with Doyle the night before. My limbo existence didn’t sit well with me anymore, and Doyle’s comments brought the truth front and center. As I stood in line at the counter, a voice called my name, and I turned to see Running Wolf walking toward me.
“Hello, beautiful.”
I grinned. He was a charmer. He had to be close to eighty, and he wore his age like a badge of honor. With skin browned by decades of Nevada sun and long, white hair he wore in a braid, he was impressive. Although a member of the Southern Paiute tribe, he didn’t stay on the reservation, instead opting to live by himself in the desert. He was a frequent visitor to the casino and a friend of Dwight’s, and we had becom
e friends over the past six months.
“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He held out his hand, directing me to a booth where a coffee mug and a newspaper sat waiting for him. We settled on opposite benches, and he gazed at me for a moment before speaking. I always let him initiate our conversations.
“I understand you had a bit of a run-in last night.”
“The mugger? It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Word is you saved Bobby Joe’s life.”
I flipped over the empty mug on the table as the waitress hustled toward us. She filled my mug and topped off his before rushing away.
“I scared the guy off.”
“Well, it’s the most excitement Mesquite has had in a while.”
I smiled. “It’s the most excitement I’ve had in a while.”
He took a sip of coffee and gazed at me some more. “Why are you here, Kyle?”
“I wanted some coffee.”
He frowned.
“You mean, why am I in Mesquite?”
“We can start there, yes.”
I shrugged. “I needed a change. I got in my car, drove here, and stopped.”
“And what made you stop?”
For some reason, I was sure he didn’t want a flip answer. “I honestly don’t know. I stopped here after being in my car for two days, and it just felt right to stay.”
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Maybe you can’t move forward until you face your past.”
“You’re the second person who’s said that to me in the past twenty-four hours.”
He smiled. “Maybe it’s a sign. I follow signs.”
“Are you a shaman?”
“Nope, but I know when it’s time to stop running and face up to the truth.”
“You never mince words.”
“At my age, I don’t have time to hem and haw about things. Just tell it straight.”
“So you think it’s time for me to go home?” I asked.
“What do you think?”