by J. R. Rain
But not in this life. No. And if my immortality held up, perhaps never again.
As Allison swooped mentally through the room, I followed her thoughts as best as I could, her path, as if I was swooping right there with her. It was thrilling and bizarre, but I didn’t think much of any of that. This was, after all, a recon mission. Meaning, we were here to gather information—anything that would help me save Mary Lou and, yes, Danny, and help get us all out alive.
“There,” I said. I directed her thoughts toward a dark opening in the far wall.
Allison oriented on that and we swooped down through the cavern and into the opening and into yet another cavern, this one smaller, and this one occupied by more people.
I saw them through Allison’s perception. Unfortunately, this cavern was mostly dark...and Allison could not see through the dark. Or, perhaps, her distance sight could not see through the dark. But there were a few touches on the wall, and enough to see a handful of people I didn’t recognize.
The cavern, I saw, was something out of The Lost Boys...filled with old and new furniture, haphazardly arranged, tapestries and paintings on the walls, statues and trinkets. Most of it looked old, and some of it even looked valuable. Mostly, the room looked like a big hangout.
“It’s a sort of safe house,” said Allison. I knew she could read deeper into what she was seeing than I could; feel deeper, too. “It’s where vampires go when on the run, or when they are new.”
“A training facility,” I said.
“Something like that. But it’s also more. There are old vampires who dominate here. Powerful vampires. They kill here, too. They plot and plan and kill and train.”
“A sort of supernatural headquarters,” I said.
“Yes,” said Allison faintly. She was scanning the room, searching for what we had yet to find.
“Can you hear anything?” I asked.
Allison shook her head. “I can only see...and feel.”
“Do you see my sister?”
“Not yet, Sam.”
I was still seeing what Allison saw, as she swooped through the room. “Can they see you?” I asked.
I sensed Allison almost smile...then again, it was hard to smile when you were holding a severed finger. “No, Sam. They are unaware of our snooping.”
“You’re a good sidekick to have around,” I said.
“Partner,” she said.
“We’ll see,” I said.
“There!” said Allison suddenly. I saw it, too. Three figures emerged into the room. Detective Hanner, my sister and Fang.
My sister was blindfolded, and plastic ties held her hands together. She was sobbing and stumbling as Hanner pulled her along.
They were met by someone I had seen before.
Someone I had fought before.
Someone—or something—that had nearly killed me, if not for Kingsley’s help.
It was, quite possibly, the oldest vampire in the world. The same vampire who had kidnapped a boy he had thought was my son, a vampire I had fought under the Mission Inn Dome.
It was Dominique.
“Okay,” I said, reaching out and touching Allison’s arm. “I’ve seen enough.”
Chapter Thirty-six
I was pacing.
The finger was back in the napkin and on ice in Allison’s freezer, although she didn’t seem too thrilled about that.
“Because there’s a severed finger with my green peas, Sam. You wouldn’t be too thrilled either,” she said defensively.
But I wasn’t paying her much attention. My thoughts were focused on the caverns beneath the Los Angeles River. Most importantly, on how to get my sister and my rat bastard of an ex-husband out alive.
“And Fang,” said Allison suddenly.
I paused and looked at her. “What?”
“It’s there in your thoughts, Sam, although you haven’t acknowledged it. You also want to get Fang out. To save him.”
“I...” But I didn’t know what to say. So, I closed my mouth.
“He’s one of them, Sam. A kidnapper and a killer.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, either, except that I didn’t share Allison’s convictions. I knew Fang, perhaps better than anyone. He was not a psychopathic killer.
As I thought those words, I picked up Allison’s thought: Once a killer, Sam, always a killer.
I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair and thought about what I had to do. They took my sister. They took my ex-husband. My God, they cut off his finger. They were going to kill him, I was sure of it. They were going to kill me, too. The evil bitch inside me was getting impatient, growing weary of my resistance. Well, fuck her. And fuck them, too.
Poor Mary Lou. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She had been heading out to get, what, tacos for the family? And that piece of shit Hanner had been waiting for her? Waiting because Sanchez had reported my activities to her. Sanchez was a good cop who had been compelled to do a traitorous thing. My guess was that he wouldn’t remember calling her.
“It’s a trap, Samantha,” said Allison. “It’s been a trap all along.”
I didn’t say anything, but kept pacing. I knew that, of course.
“Sam, when I was in those caverns, I sensed something else, something that I think you might not have picked up on, something that occurred when Fang, Hanner and your sister appeared.”
I stopped in front of my friend, who, only now, was getting some of the color back to her cheeks since dealing with the finger. “What?” I asked.
“They’re getting rid of you for another reason.”
“What reason?”
She swallowed, looked at me. “I mean, they are going to try to get rid of you.”
“I know what you meant, dammit. What’s the other reason?”
“It’s Fang,” she said. “They sense great potential in him. Great potential to kill. I felt it from Hanner and the other vampire.”
“You can read other vampires?”
“Only immortals can’t read each other, Sam. I’m not immortal and I’m growing stronger, thanks to you.”
“You’re doing a lot more than remote viewing,” I pointed out.
“I think of it as remote sensing.” She shrugged. “It’s a growing ability.”
Like me, Allison’s abilities seemed to be progressing rapidly. Unlike me, her abilities were tied to my drinking of her blood.
“Not just blood,” she corrected. “Blood isn’t the only source of my power. I’m developing my abilities in other ways now.”
“Witchcraft,” I said.
“Of course,” she said.
“Fine,” I said. “What about the other vampires? What else is going on?”
“Like I said, Sam. They sense great potential in him.”
“Potential to do what?”
“To kill, to supply and perhaps someday to lead. Mostly, they sense in him a willingness to go along with the program.”
“To give himself up to them,” I said. Or, put another way, to allow himself to be controlled, possessed and perhaps taken over by the evil within him, too.
“Yes, Sam, except for one problem, which is where you come in.”
I stopped pacing and stood before her. I was surprised to discover that my heart had suddenly started beating faster than normal. Hell, faster than it had in some time.
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
“His love for you,” said Allison. “It’s posing a problem, a hindrance.”
My heart continued pounding, and knowing that Fang still felt something for me—anything for me—was a gift I wasn’t entirely prepared for. I would have felt excitement—and hope—if not for the fact that he and the others had my sister.
“They need you dead, Sam, so that they can properly cultivate him for greater things.”
“I have to leave,” I said, grabbing my keys and opening the front door.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“S
am, you need me.”
“No, I don’t—”
I hadn’t quite finished my sentence when the front door suddenly slammed shut again. I jumped, startled. I was about to ask what the holy hell had happened when I turned and saw Allison holding out her right hand, her eyelids half closed.
“Jesus. Was that you?” I asked.
“Like I told you, Sam, my powers are growing.” She lowered her hand and opened her eyes.
“Well, it’s a nice trick, dear,” I said, opening the door again, “but I’m still not bringing—”
She turned, raising her hand. The comfy overstuffed chair and a half, where I had sat many times before, lifted off the floor and hurled through the apartment. Pillows and Allison’s purse, which had all been on the chair, went flying in different directions. Unfortunately, the chair was heading for the sliding glass door, which led to her patio and a nice third-story view of the other Beverly Hills apartments. I braced for the coming crash when the chair—sweet Jesus—stopped in mid-air. Stopped just before the glass door. The chair rotated slowly...and settled carefully onto the floor.
“Holy hell,” I said.
“Now, can I come with you, Sam?” she asked, opening her eyes and lowering her arm.
“Sweet mama,” I said.
“I second that,” said a deep voice behind me. A voice I recognized.
I turned to find Kingsley standing in the doorway, filling it completely, wearing jeans and a black tee shirt and hair down to his shoulders. Good cologne wafted from him as if the stuff flowed from his veins.
Allison said, “Oh, did I forget to mention that I called Kingsley, too?”
Chapter Thirty-seven
We were in my minivan.
It wasn’t exactly the Batmobile, or something cooked up by Iron Man’s Richard Stark. It was just an older minivan—the same minivan I used to pick my kids up from school, to buy groceries and to run errands. Just last week, I’d backed into a pole at my kids’ school, putting a good-sized dent in the bumper that was going to cost me more money to fix than I wanted to spend.
And here we were, charging through the night. Three freaks to battle a cavern full of freaks.
Yeah, my life is weird.
“You shouldn’t have called him,” I said to Allison for the tenth time.
“Hey,” said Kingsley, “you say that enough times and I might start getting offended.”
“Well, she shouldn’t have called you.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that. Except I’m not going to let you walk alone into a vampire nest.”
“Is that a politically correct thing to say?” asked Allison from the backseat.
“You keep quiet,” I said to her, aiming the minivan down Sunset Boulevard. I kept the car at well over the speed limit, not giving a damn about a ticket. Hell, I would compel the fucking cop to forget what he saw and to crave a pink donut instead.
And, yes, I thought of Sherbet, and, yes, I wished he was here, too. Same with my other detective friends: Knighthorse, Spinoza and Aaron King, who may or may not be Elvis.
No, I thought, shaking my head again. I can’t put them—or anyone—in jeopardy.
“You also can’t do this alone,” said Allison, reading my mind.
“Huh?” said Kingsley. “Oh, I see. You two are doing your mind-reading thing.”
I was fairly certain the minivan was listing to his side. I swear to God, Kingsley was bigger than the last time I’d seen him. Kingsley would, in fact, keep growing, minutely, with each transformation.
So weird, I thought.
Earlier, I’d made a number of my own calls. First up, I had called Mary Lou’s husband. I had told him I was with Mary Lou and something important had come up that we couldn’t talk about. I suggested very strongly that he should stay indoors and make dinner there. He agreed. A little too quickly.
Yes, I had used some of my own compulsion on him. No, I didn’t have any clue that it would actually go through the call. But it had.
Next, I called both Anthony and Tammy in turn. Yes, they each had their own cell phones. And, yes, they each cost me an arm and a leg. But, dammit, I loved knowing I could get a hold of my kids at any time of the day. And, yes, they had strict orders to keep their cell phones with them at all times—and on. Anyway, I told them each to watch out for each other. Tammy, my telepathic daughter—yes, a family of freaks—picked up a stray thought of mine that her aunt was in trouble. I told her to keep that information to herself and that I was doing all I could to help her aunt.
Finally, as I had been heading out to Allison’s, I called Sherbet—and kept my mind closed in the process. I hadn’t wanted him to know where we were, or what we were up to. But I had asked him to keep an eye on my sister’s house. He had told me he would do it himself, with one of his officers. He had asked if everything was okay. I had told him no, everything was not okay. He said he wanted to help, and I had told him no. He didn’t like it and insisted and I told him no again. He still didn’t like it, but finally gave in, and told me to stay safe. I told him I would do my best, and, before we hung up, I told him to send a car out to Hanner’s. He asked why and I told him he wouldn’t believe me if I told him. He said try him, so I do, telling him about the newlyweds and the bleeder. Sherbet then said that I was right, he didn’t believe me, but he would send someone out right away.
As I drove, Allison caught Kingsley up on the layout of the caverns, as she had seen them remotely.
Kingsley shook his shaggy, blockish head. “Your powers have grown considerably since the last time I saw you.”
Which had, of course, been at Skull Island months, ago. Back then, Allison was just coming into her own, just exploring her increased powers.
“You could say I’ve had an epiphany,” she said from the backseat, sticking her head between us.
“What kind of epiphany?” he asked.
“I’m a witch.”
Kingsley glanced down at her, somehow managing to see through all his thick hair. “Witches scare the shit out of me.”
That was news to me. Truth was, I didn’t think anything scared the big oaf. “Why?” I asked.
“They’re unpredictable...and seem to have nature on their side. And after the demonstration I just saw at your house...well, remind me to stay on your good side.”
Allison beamed, but as she did so, I sensed her self-doubt. Yes, this was all new to her. Yes, she could perform some incredible tricks, but, no, she did not feel worthy of her newfound—and growing—powers.
Truth was, I didn’t know much about any of this stuff, either, let alone what a witch could and couldn’t do.
Not true, Samantha, came Allison’s thought, as she picked up on my own. You were once a witch, too. We both were.
Along with Millicent, I added, referring to the spirit that had first broken the news to Allison of her supernatural pedigree.
Yes, Millicent. And we were both supposed to be witches again, except you’ve taken a slightly different path.
A bloodsucking path, I thought grimly.
Well, we’re together again, said Allison, and that’s all that matters.
“Are you two quite done?” asked Kingsley.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your telepathy crap...it’s kind of rude.”
“How did you know we were doing telepathy?” I asked, genuinely intrigued.
“Because the two of you get all quiet at the exact same time, which is rare enough as it is. Were you two talking about me?”
“Maybe,” I said, and, despite the seriousness of our current situation, and despite knowing my sister was at the hands of forces that would love nothing more than to rip her life away from her, I giggled. So did Allison.
“C’mon. What were you two talking about?”
“Your hair,” said Allison, lying and giggling some more.
“What about my hair?” asked Kingsley defensively. For some reason, the big gorilla was always defensive about his thick locks.
“We think you need a haircut,” said Allison.
“We do?” I asked her.
“Yes, we do,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, laughing some more. “We do.”
“Well, I can’t cut it,” said Kingsley.
This was news to me. Despite having dated the big goof for a while, I hadn’t known this fact.
“Why not?” we both asked at once.
“It just grows right back, within days, and sometimes within hours. And, even worse, it always grows back a little longer.”
I think Kingsley was trying to get our sympathy, but he got the exact opposite reaction. Allison and I burst out laughing. I wasn’t expecting to laugh. I was pissed and ready to take on every fucking vampire in Los Angeles if I had to. But now, I found myself laughing, nearly uncontrollably. The van swerved. Kingsley gripped the dashboard, and I laughed even harder. Truth was, I think I needed to laugh. And hearing Allison’s snorting in the backseat made me totally lose it.
“Are you two quite done?” growled Kingsley, shaking his head.
“When he cuts his hair,” said Allison, sitting forward between us, gasping and wiping her eyes, her voice barely above a squeak, “it just keep growing out even longer...within days...hours...that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the funniest thing I’d ever heard, but it was definitely a tension breaker for me. And as I gasped and fought for my own breath, Kingsley mumbled, “I don’t know why I open up to you two.”
“And now we know why you don’t ask for a free haircut, either,” squealed Allison.
I reached back and put a hand on my friend’s forearm. “Let’s leave him alone,” I said. “We don’t want to piss him—or his hair—off.”
Allison giggled some more, while Kingsley shot me a grumpy look. “It’s really not funny,” he said.
“No,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “Excessive hair growth is never funny.”
Allison literally snorted in the back seat, which made Kingsley finally crack a smile. “You two are clowns,” he said. “I think we should get serious.”