by D. R. Perry
Something coppery caught my eye—Margot’s hair. She held a legal pad and pen like a shield and sword, jaw clenched with determination as though she were prepared for some necessary but undesirable task. I understood. She’d come to interview Jack. Of course, she wouldn’t just be interviewing my underdogs and me at one of the biggest musical events of the summer. The Journal would pay better money for a bigger scoop. At least she didn’t look particularly excited to be meeting Jack Steele. That made the way she’d shrugged me off the night before sting less.
Pete and Dave strode out on stage to scattered cheers. When Matt ran out, the crowd’s energy and volume increased, with a number of wolf-whistles soaring above the lower-pitched hum and rumble. He was pretty enough to get mistaken for Lenny Kravitz back in the day. I could tell this was the biggest crowd we’d played to date. All the same, I wasn’t ready for the wall of sound that greeted me when I sprinted out and across to my place at the front.
That was my natural element, so I stuck by the mic stand like a kid with his security blanket. A crowd that size required an attitude adjustment. The noise I smiled and waved into was like nothing I’d had directed at me in my entire existence. “Excitement” was too weak a word for the crowd’s vibe, but “rabid” was too strong.
Inspiration hit me in the face like a bucket of water. I could have sat down and written an entire album about that feeling—the precipice at the edge of the chasm between small fry and big-time—but I couldn’t write just then. I couldn’t even improvise on a three-song set of covers. The trouble with being a creative and performing artist at the same time was that sometimes, you have to cut off your muse to please your audience.
So, I dropped my arm in the Night Creatures universal Start Playing hand signal. Dave responded by kicking in the bassline so Pete and Matt could layer the rhythm and melody over it. I strummed my chords and leaned in, ready to start the lyrics after the intro.
The crowd loved the raunchy funk song. One of the reasons we all knew Love Rollercoaster was the level of innuendo in those lyrics. The other was that we all grew up idolizing the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and they’d covered it. By the time we heard that song, the rumors behind that mysterious scream in the original version had been debunked.
Matt made the changeover from The Ohio Players to James Brown’s sound look easy. It wasn’t, but soon enough, I belted out the lyrics to Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag. I wish I could have done the tune justice, but there was just no way a scrub like me could match the Godfather of Soul. The whole experience was humbling, especially when the crowd’s noise morphed from roars to meows. I swallowed, remembering Olivia’s warning about Tony.
And at first, when Pete and I laid off our instruments in order to let Dave and Matt carry us into the one ballad in the set, the audience went nearly silent. To this night, I still have no idea whether that came from boredom or anticipation. All I know is, after I set my guitar on the stand to my left and Pete finessed some percussion out of his high hat, the crowd had changed its mind.
It started with a whistle off to my right someplace, not in the front, but close enough for me to make out Blaine and Josh flanking Bobby, with Lynn perched on his shoulders. My less-than-stellar rendition of ABBA’s The Winner Takes It All didn’t flop, all thanks to the Tinfoil Hat pack.
But the assorted gaggle of extrahumans had nothing to do with the slow roar that started on the other side of the crowd. That was all Matt and me. When I got to the chorus and I sang about the loser standing small beside the victory that’s her destiny, emotion charged our performance to high-voltage levels. I still wasn’t sure what was going on with my guitarist, or why he’d come to practice most nights looking like something the cat dragged in. Whatever it was had to be hitting him harder than any physical blow that ripped his shirts and tore his jeans, though.
As we wrapped the song and the set, I knew we’d done better than I expected with what we’d been given. If it didn’t turn out to be enough points to win, I had no idea what I’d do.
I also didn’t know how to process the scene that met my eyes when we came down the steps backstage. Jack passed Margot a business card while Della pouted. Steele Ego and his band headed up to do their set. Della paced toward a corner and opened her handbag, refreshing her makeup and other girly activities I didn’t care to watch.
Margot’s actions were much more amusing anyway. She tucked the business card into a tissue and tossed it in a trashcan, then rubbed her palm on her skirt as though she’d touched something icky. That was fine and dandy with me. She gave me a full smile, fangs and all. If I’d been a creature of the breathing variety, I might have needed CPR. She opened her mouth to speak, but coincidence snatched whatever she’d been about to say away.
Chapter Six
Watching the Detectives
“Lane Meyer.” A woman’s voice, as dry and practical as a laundress’ hands, met my ears from someplace a little off to the right and behind me. “Can you tell me which of your bandmates was with you last night?”
“Um, sure.” I turned to see a woman in a suit and shoes that screamed Law Enforcement. Her hair was wound up in a tight bun and slicked back, emphasizing the silver streak near the middle of her forehead.
“Oh, come on, Detective Weaver. Loosen up. You’re backstage at a concert.” The guy who stepped out from behind her looked much less professional in his puffy orange vest, acid-wash jeans, and mullet. Still, I knew he was a vampire right away. Older than me, too, judging by the clothing from my mom’s early adulthood. “That’s got to be some kind of romance-novel fantasy right there, huh?”
“Can it, Klein.” Weaver snapped her fingers. “You know what we have to do here, and it’s got nothing to do with romance.”
“Yeah, doesn’t mean I have to like it, especially not after a performance like that.” Klein winked. Yeah, he was definitely the good cop. “That was freaking awesome. I always loved ABBA, and you guys killed it. I felt it right in here.” He tapped his fist on the left side of his chest. I had no idea whether the detective was serious or pulling my leg.
“You feel nothing in there, Klein.” Weaver rolled her eyes. “Detective business is serious business.”
I blinked at the snark, wondering for a moment whether someone with more sarcastic chops than I had would think Weaver was the good cop. Before my contemplations could get any more like Dorothy Gale learning about good witches and bad, Klein grinned.
“Well, Detective Weaver is right, you know.” Klein sighed. “We have some eyewitness accounts of you going into your room last night, but we don’t know which of your bandmates were in there with you.”
“Oh.” I almost blurted that all of them were there, but that wasn’t true. I didn’t want any trouble with the law at a time like this, but that was all the more reason not to lie. “Matt, you weren’t there. You left for a little while.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Matt nodded. “I went to take a walk and look at the water to clear my head.”
“About what time was that?” Klein nodded and smiled, taking the goofy retro 80s vampire bit further than I’d suspected he could.
“Like, about eleven. I got back before two.” Matt pulled out his phone and glove. “That’s when Dave texted me about getting back for more practice, see?” He showed Klein something on the screen. Dave nodded, mumbling his assent.
“Oh, boy.” Klein took a step back. “Well, Weaver. Looks like you’re up.”
“Matthew Gardner, you have the right to remain silent.” Detective Weaver stepped toward Matt, holding out a pair of handcuffs. Margot put one hand over her mouth while Della stared. Pete grumbled something under his breath. Dave sat down on the stage manager’s folding chair.
Jack Steele got back from his set just in time to see Weaver escorting Matt away. He blinked. After that, I thought I detected a small smirk on his face. I hung my head because we all knew the Night Creatures would never win this thing now. Matt was probably the only one of us with as much raw talent as Jac
k, and everyone knew it.
But then the corners of my own mouth twitched. They turned up right after, but I slapped my hand over my lips to hide it. Pete gasped, and Dave fell out of his chair.
Detective Klein was reading Jack his rights in a rote-memory almost-musical patois, snapping his own set of cuffs on my old mentor and new rival. Apparently, Newport’s Finest had evidence against Jack more damning than anything they had on Matt. Jack didn’t seem anywhere near as shocked and frustrated as Matt had, though.
I had no time to wonder why Jack’s arrest left him unfazed. All the same, I wasn’t sure what to do. But I knew full well who would. Tinfoil Hat.
“Come on, guys.” I dragged Dave off the ground and out of the backstage area. “We’ve got people to see and plans to make.”
Back at the hotel, I told everyone what had happened, and I mean everyone. Margot had followed us. Along with the wolves and other shifters were Albert the Sidhe knight and a particular Psychic violinist. Irina tapped furiously on her phone screen, and when I gave her a puzzled glance, she mouthed the word “Tony” over Blaine’s head. I thought that was a good thing. Friendly neighborhood cat-man might have information we didn't.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” Kimiko grabbed a tablet and started up LORA, the analytical app she’d designed to track local history and coincidence. She entered data as she spoke, making Lynn blink as she scribbled her own ideas on paper. “I’m handing LORA off to the other two brains here and heading down to Newport PD. Weaver and Klein wrote me some recommendations that got me into PPC the last time we dealt with them, so I’m going to offer them some help.”
“Won’t they think there’s a conflict of interest, though?” Blaine puffed a smoke ring out of his nose. “It’s no secret in local circles that I’m footing the bill for you guys.” He gestured at me, Pete, and Dave. “And every society paper’s been announcing our engagement for the last three months.”
“That’s why I’m going to help Klein with Jack Steele.” Kimiko dropped a wink at Blaine, then leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Weaver’s on her own, but Klein loves talking about his partner’s exploits when he’s playing teacher.”
“You’re brilliant.” Blaine took the tablet his mate offered him.
“I know.” The Tanuki shifter slung her handbag across her body. “I’ll be in touch. Expect at least one data sync over LORA from my phone during the next few hours.”
“Wait for me.” I hadn’t noticed Olivia grabbing her own bag. “I want to be in the right place for Matt’s bail hearing in the morning.” The owl shifter turned around, then grabbed an amber bottle that rattled in her hand out of the nightstand drawer. “I’ll need these.”
“Oh, that sucks.” Nox shook her head. “Thought staying in town for the summer would give you a little time off the diurnal meds.”
“Who else can do this lawyer-lite stuff on such short notice?” Olivia tapped Blaine on the shoulder. “We need Al in case of faerie problems. And Blaine, how much bail can you afford?”
“Not much, unfortunately.” More smoke trailed from Blaine’s nose. “My dividend check’s almost gone, and last time I talked to Mother, she said she wasn’t helping me until I apologized for disrespecting her about Wilfred.”
“What?” Lynn’s notebook and pen clattered to the coffee table. “Bobby and I’ll march over there and give her hell for you, Blaine.” She stood up, and Bobby stepped up beside her as he cracked his knuckles.
“No way.” Blaine’s nose stopped its smokestack imitation. “No one deals with Mother but me.”
“When the time comes, though,” Bobby narrowed his eyes, “you won’t have to deal with the dragon lady alone.”
“I know.” Blaine replied to Bobby, but he looked past him at Kimiko. It struck me that Tinfoil Hat was a formidable pack, mixed and misfit bag or not. I could barely believe they all were on my side. “What about you guys?” Blaine glanced at Josh and Beth.
“Yeah, I’ve got a similar issue.” Josh wrinkled his nose. I’d almost forgotten that their family was more than just respectably well-off. “My grades dipped last semester, so my folks cut me off until I show some academic improvement.”
“And with me going back to finish school this fall, I’m tapped out.” Beth sighed. “Sorry.”
“Look, worst-case scenario, if there’s not enough to bail him out before the next set, I’ll fill in for Matt.” Irina patted her violin case. “I know they have a magic and psychic dampener onstage, but that degree from The Boston Conservatory has to count for something.”
My shoulders came down from my earlobes. Well, not literally, but the tension in them sure did ease. We wouldn’t have to forfeit the Battle of the Bands if they held Matt during the next part of the contest.
“I’m loving this pack solidarity and everything,” Josh said, holding up his phone, “but we have new information.” He nodded at Kimiko and Olivia, who stood near the door to the hall. “It’ll all go into LORA, I promise. You two go and do your thing.”
“New information?” Lynn ducked past Bobby to peer at the phone in Josh’s hand. “From Henry?”
“Yeah.” Josh tilted the phone so Lynn could see. Her face flushed a shade of crimson I mistook for embarrassment. “I’ll share with the room, but it might be better to do this first. Hold on a sec.”
The Alpha wolf sauntered over to Blaine, then tapped his phone against the tablet. The latter device made a chime reminiscent of GLaDOS from Portal, giving me a better idea of Kimiko Ichiro’s nerdy sense of humor, and then LORA spoke. Well, kind of.
“Compiling data. Cross-referencing. Coincidence detected.” A red glow lit Blaine’s face from below, reminding me of kids telling ghost stories around a campfire. “Watkins brothers connected to Extramagus activity over four decades.”
“Tiamat’s scales!” Blaine jumped up off the sofa. “Do you know what this means?” I didn’t, but I was in the minority, along with Dave and Pete.
“Yeah.” Lynn leaned back against the cushions. “It means we’ve got nothing. Professor Watkins is in a vegetative state, and his brother’s been missing since the Reveal.”
“Well, we can still find at least one thing out about those guys.” Bianca Brighton stood in the doorway to one of the connecting rooms.
“How?” Josh shook his head. “We’ve had all our researchers on this, and there’s nothing in official records. If there’s anything else in Henry’s memory trinket box, it’ll take weeks for him to get. Even our man on the street hasn’t heard any rumors.”
“I can find out whether they’re dead or not.” Bianca sighed. “Even if they’ve moved on, I know plenty of ghosts who’ve been around long enough to remember seeing them before that happened.”
“Why do I get the idea there’s a catch here?” Josh put his hands on his hips.
“Because there is.” Bianca leaned her back against the door frame. “It’s not easy to contact that many unfamiliar ghosts. Takes a lot out of me.”
“Well, is there any other way?” Josh raised an eyebrow.
“Nope.” Blaine shook his head. “No other way to deal with ghosts than to get help from a medium. And you need a ghost who was a medium while alive, too.”
“Right. A ghostly medium. Your friend Horace is one of those, right, Bianca?” Nox rubbed the bridge of her nose. “At least, that’s what I remember from when he chatted with my dad and Wilfred.” I blinked, suddenly realizing why Blaine had been at the Nocturnal Lounge the night this all started. Bianca had been talking to his stepdad.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Bianca closed her eyes, then stood and stepped over to the mini-fridge. She opened it and took out a zippered case. “I’ll need about twenty-four hours and protection, though, because I’m going to be totally out of touch with the living world. Also, someone has to test my sugar and give me this if I need it.” She unzipped the case, revealing a glucometer, a collection of dainty syringes, and a vial with the word Humulin on the side.
“On it.” Lynn took the case from Bianca.
“And I’ll do the physical guarding in there.” Bobby followed the ladies back into the room Bianca had come from. “None of us will be in the crowd to cheer you guys on tomorrow, but this is important.”
“Thanks, guys.” Josh closed his eyes, then opened them again after the door between rooms shut. “Ren, get out in the hall and guard that door tonight.” Josh clapped the Selkie on the shoulder. “Nox, I want you out there during the day tomorrow.”
“I’ll make sure nothing gets vanished in except the food and drink they’ll need.” I looked down because the voice came from so close to the floor. A tiny, pot-bellied creature with what looked like dentures made of shark’s teeth smiled up at me.
“Thanks, Gee-Nome.” Josh nodded at the Gnome. “I appreciate your help, especially with Henry and Maddie up in Vermont all summer.”
“The Watkins brothers are my friends, too. How do you think I met Henry in the first place?” The Gnome winked at him, then vanished with a pop of displaced air. That made no sense to me. Everyone else looked confused, too, so I shrugged off Gee-Nome’s odd comment.
“Do you want a pure faerie guard with your magical shifters? I can send a Seelie for Ren and have one switch off with Gee for Nox.” I blinked at the sound of Margot’s voice.
“Why are you helping?” I’d figured her earlier anger was a matter of vampiric principle, but I had to wonder whether I should question her motives.
“Because I pissed off this Extramagus, too.” Margot put her hands on her hips. “And the whole blood-loss thing reeks of a frame job aimed at vampires. If I hadn’t had an alibi from interviewing Irina, I’d be in the slammer, too.”