Cursed fs-1

by S. J. Harper

  “Could be two and a half years. I’m telling you, he’ll be right where we left him.”

  “Unless someone showed up at Green Leaf and freed him. Alan’s recollection won’t corroborate our story. We need a vampire to wipe his memory, and I’d much rather ask Evan to do it than try to reach Kallistos.”

  “We are not asking Kallistos,” Zack says, his tone and expression thunderous. “He’s helped us enough for one day. If we can’t get Evan, I’ll make a call or two.”

  He helps me to my feet. A couple of Bureau representatives are already on the scene and taking charge of the joint investigation with SDPD, freeing us to take our leave and return to headquarters. One of the Suburbans they arrived in is at our disposal, and we head for it now.

  Only we’re going to make a quick stop before reporting in.

  A fifteen-minute drive never seemed so long.

  When we finally arrive at Green Leaf, I have to climb carefully out of the SUV. I stretch to loosen the knots, slowly, and take a deep breath.

  “Emma?”

  Zack’s pointing to the front gate. It’s open. His gun is already out.

  “You’re still feeling the effects of the explosion,” he says. “You should stay here.”

  Like hell. “Yeah, yeah.” I pull my gun, look around. There are no cars parked in front except ours. Nerves tingling, I walk through the gate, then quickly move up the steps to approach the front entrance. My back is flat against the front of the house. Zack’s is, too. We form mirror images on each side of the door, which is ajar. It’s cracked just enough to give me a glimpse of inside.

  Zack points to his ear, shakes his head, then tilts it toward the door. He’s not hearing anything inside.

  I give the door a push, calling out, “Hello? Agent Monroe here.”

  No answer.

  I slip inside the entryway, leading with my gun to sweep the area.

  It’s so quiet I hear the beat of my heart.

  “Alan?”

  No answer. No noise at all.

  Zack comes in, gun at the ready. He moves past me, through the waiting room. I see his shoulders relax. He lowers his weapon.

  “Damn it!”

  “What?”

  I take a step closer, then see what he does. Across the way the door to Alan’s office is standing wide open.

  Zack’s cuffs are still attached to the radiator.

  But Alan is gone.

  “Shit.” I holster my gun. He couldn’t have left of his own accord.

  A kernel of suspicion takes root in my stomach. But someone could have taken him. I don’t like what I’m thinking.

  I release a breath, holster the Glock. “Fucker.”

  “Sums it up nicely.” I watch as he walks to the radiator, unhooks his cuffs, and pockets them. He turns and frowns. “This has Kallistos written all over it.”

  He begins rummaging around on Alan’s desk. The spreadsheets have been disturbed, and a file that wasn’t here earlier is thrown haphazardly on top of them. He picks up the folder, opens it. Without a word, he pulls out a sheet of paper and after perusing it, hands it to me. It’s a computer printout, a list of surgeries Dr. Pierce performed in her hidden clinic.

  “Why would Alan have this?” I ask.

  “He shouldn’t have it,” is Zack’s curt reply. “It’s Pierce’s personal log, a record of the illegal organ transplants. She names Mager as her accomplice. The names of their human victims are listed, too, as well as the names of the organ recipients. She even notes dates, how much they paid for the surgery, and how much she earned from each.” He looks up at me. “It’s all here. Up to a point.”

  I release a breath. “Up to the point where she started using vampires. Either those surgeries weren’t logged—”

  “Or Kallistos omitted those pages in order to protect his own.”

  “Still, he’s given us evidence,” I say. “Evidence we can use against Mager.”

  Zack’s expression doesn’t soften. “Frankly, I’d rather he’d left Alan.” He holds another scrap of paper out to me. “Besides, he has an ulterior motive—you. This was clipped to the spreadsheet.”

  It’s a note addressed to me. Precise, old-world cursive. Emma. You owe me. If you don’t get Mager, I will. Until next time. Kallistos.

  I scrunch the paper up into a tiny little ball. “Is this a game to him?” I feel as if my head’s about to explode. I pull my phone out and start to dial once more. “I’m calling Liz. She’ll know how to reach Kallistos. Ask him if he took Alan.”

  “If?” Zack stays my hand. “Wait. How did Kallistos know about Alan?”

  “Maybe he was following us earlier? Or had someone else following us? He knew about the investigation. About the missing vampires.”

  Zack thinks about the possibility for a moment, then rejects it. “I don’t think anyone’s been following us. Checking for tails? It’s a hard habit to break.”

  I have another idea. This one chills my blood.

  How did he know about Alan? Maybe he divined it from my head when I was so cleverly testing him. Or when he was kissing me.

  “You think maybe he just wiped Alan’s memory and sent him home?”

  Zack gives me a look that tells me I don’t want to know what he’s thinking.

  “Spit it out,” I say.

  “I don’t think Kallistos is that forgiving. He didn’t bat cleanup to help us. He did it to make sure we didn’t get our hands on evidence involving his vamps.” He points to the spreadsheet in my hand. “He left what he wanted us to have. If we don’t move quickly to see that Mager is brought in, that note says he’ll exact his own brand of justice.” He jabs at the spreadsheet. “He played us.”

  “He played me, you mean.” I stuff the note he left for me in my pocket. When I do, my fingers brush against the object Zack placed in my hand earlier. I pull it out. It’s a smooth, polished stone the size of a quarter. “What is this?”

  Zack plucks it from my outstretched palm. “No, I mean he played us.” He palms the stone. “It’s an old talisman. It’s supposed to offer protection. It didn’t. Kallistos used thrall. Either he’s exceptionally strong or the power’s faded.” He slips it into his pocket.

  “Well, my power is perfectly intact. In thousands of years I’ve never been wrong when reading someone. Whatever he’s done with Alan, he decided to do it after we left him. I’m sure of it. Unless . . .”

  “Unless?”

  “Unless I didn’t probe deep enough, push hard enough.” Unless I was as caught up in Kallistos’ spell as he was in mine. I find myself thinking of his kiss, the heat that infused my body, the same heat sending color to my cheeks now. I give myself a mental shake. Concentrate on what is real. Tally up what we were able to accomplish. We saved Isabella, Amy, Evan, and Owen. We lost two other vampires, possibly more, depending on how long Pierce has been running her clinic from hell. Possibly one human—Alan. Shit. I look hard at Zack. “Well, at least we have something to give Johnson. With the spreadsheet we can link Mager to Pierce.”

  “We can tell him Pierce gave it to us.” Zack looks around the office once more. “I don’t see anything else here that’s out of place. Do you?”

  Before I have a chance to reply, my cell phone rings. I turn to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Agent Monroe?”

  It’s Michael Dexter. He sounds almost euphoric.

  “Yes, Michael. How are you?”

  “Never been better. You aren’t going to believe this. Isabella is home!”

  “Wait a minute, Michael. Zack is here. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  We listen as Michael explains how Isabella had fallen off the wagon and fed from a human. The shame drove her into isolation. “She just needed to get her head on straight. Do some soul searching.”

  “That’s wonderful.” I pause. “How are you feeling?”

  I can hear his breathing through the phone. “Better, now. But we had a bit of a scare last night. You know I’d been working really hard on tha
t piece so it would be ready for the auction? I guess it all finally caught up with me. Alan says I literally passed out on him once we got home. I scared you to death, didn’t I?”

  There’s a murmur of response in the background.

  I look up at Zack. Alan’s with Dexter?

  Zack moves closer, listening.

  “I remember him pouring us both a nightcap,” he continues. “I must have gone out like a light. But damned if I don’t feel better than I have in weeks. I slept for an unbelievably long time. I feel like a new man.”

  Thanks to Kallistos.

  I feel a hitch in my chest. Alan is alive. I take a breath. “I’m so glad Isabella is home safe and sound. Take care of each other.”

  “We will. Thank you. For everything.”

  We say good-bye and disconnect. I look up at Zack. His mouth is pressed in a thin, hard line. “What’s wrong? Alan is home and evidently none the worse for wear. Michael doesn’t even remember how sick he was. I’d say that’s some good news at least.”

  “Kallistos surprised me.” His tone is grudging. “I’m not easily surprised.”

  “Or often wrong?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Zack says. “Amy will be home shortly. In fact, she could already be there. Are you sure Dexter’s all right?”

  “Better than all right. He’ll get a surprise at his next checkup. Kallistos cured him. I’m certain of it.”

  “Be careful.” Zack’s expression hardens. “Don’t make Kallistos out to be a hero. He still blew up a building, almost killed that security guard, and endangered God knows how many others.” He passes a hand over his face, a gesture of resignation and weariness. “Enough about him. We’ve got a shitload of paperwork and Johnson waiting for us at headquarters.”

  He reaches into his pocket for his car keys. When he pulls them out, the talisman falls to the floor.

  “Still want to get it checked out?”

  He sticks it back into his pocket. “With you as my partner, I’d better.”

  I smile. “I’ll give you Liz’s number.”

  • • •

  Johnson is waiting for us when we get back to headquarters. He motions us into his office. He has a grin on his face and a note in his hand. “Message from the DA. Bernadette Haskell called him to say Amy Patterson is home. She’ll hold a press conference tomorrow in New York explaining her absence and apologizing for causing so much worry. Looks like case closed.”

  Zack and I exchange looks. Johnson thinks the case is over.

  He closes the door, then crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Now, what the hell were you doing in that building downtown?”

  Or maybe not.

  “We uncovered something unexpected there,” Zack begins. “It’s big.”

  Johnson motions for us to take seats. He walks around his desk and does the same. “I’m listening.”

  “A direct link between Dr. Barbara Pierce and the murder of several homeless people used as donors in a black market cash-for-organs scheme,” Zack explains, taking the lead. “She confessed it all to us before setting off the blast and committing suicide.”

  Johnson holds up a hand. “Stop. You’re telling me this Dr. Pierce died in the lab that blew up today?”

  I nod. “Yes. That’s where she’d been doing the transplants.”

  “Why confess and then destroy all of the evidence?” he asks.

  Zack blows out a breath. “She wasn’t doing the transplants voluntarily. She was being blackmailed. And she wasn’t the only one. These operations were far too complicated for her to do alone. There were other medical personnel, not to mention organ recipients who had no idea they were involved in anything illegal—some of them children. She was trying, in her own way, to minimize the damage.”

  “Christ.” Johnson leans back in his chair and waves encouragement. “Let’s hear all of it.”

  Zack relays the story—the concocted story. How, while we were following up on a lead for the Patterson case last night, Dr. Pierce approached us. She was nervous, seemed off. She knew we were from the FBI and insisted we come to her office today, that she had something important to tell us, to give to us. How when we tracked her down this morning she was waiting for us. Said she was tired of the deception. Ashamed of what she’d done. Couldn’t live with the guilt. How she took her own life and very nearly took ours.

  Finally he pauses.

  Johnson shakes his head. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

  “That wasn’t her intention,” I say. “She wanted to give us this.” I hand him the spreadsheet. “She slipped it under the door to the lab after locking herself inside.”

  He takes the sheet of paper in hand. “A list of the recipients and donors?”

  Zack leans forward. “More than that, sir. She also gave us a name, Davis Mager. The man supplying the organs. My guess is that Mager is just the beginning, a small cog in a very large illegal transplant scheme.”

  “A donated organ always reflects the DNA of the donor,” I add. “Pierce said most of Mager’s ‘donors’ were homeless. Forensics should be able to match up the transplanted organs to that string of missing homeless cases Garner’s been working on.”

  “Right,” Zack agrees, then connects the last dot. “Garner builds a case against Mager for the string of murders and exposes them as being part of a large operation that stretches who knows how far.”

  Johnson jumps up and makes a beeline for the door. “Garner?” he shouts.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Get your ass in here. Armstrong and Monroe are about to make your day.”

  • • •

  It’s three hours before the paperwork is complete and we’ve finished briefing Johnson and Garner, who was more than happy to take over the investigation. A BOLO is issued for Davis Mager. Turns out he has a vast and colorful criminal record. The only thing Zack and I fear is that the weasel might try to cut himself a deal to get out of doing significant time. On the other hand, if he manages to elude the law, he certainly won’t elude Kallistos.

  “Are you ready to get out of here?” Zack asks once Johnson’s dismissed us.

  I nod, gathering my bag and jacket. “Hell of a first case, huh?”

  Zack smiles but doesn’t say anything until we’re outside and approaching his car. Then he reaches out. The back of his hand barely brushes mine, a feather touch. “Your place or mine?”

  “Yours. I could use a walk on the beach.” I climb inside and rest my head back on the seat. “But let’s swing by Evan’s first, so I can get my car.”

  He pulls out of the office parking lot and heads for the freeway. I close my eyes. I know Barbara Pierce’s death was justified. Thanks to her notes, Davis Mager will be made to answer for his crimes, too. And a dozen cold cases solved. But all the same, I don’t have the feeling of satisfaction I usually have at the end of a case. We’ve saved four kidnap victims whose stories will never be told. We lost two vampires whose names we never knew. Someone may be searching for them, too. And then there are the patients whose lives were saved by Pierce. Others, like Mager’s daughter and Michael Dexter, were likely unsuspecting and as much victims of Mager and Pierce as the homeless who lost their lives.

  I glance over at Zack. His expression is once again calm, composed. He’s a good partner. This was a bad case.

  “Sorry you transferred?” I ask.

  A smile tips the corners of his mouth. “Are you kidding? How could I be sorry? What kind of man would pass up the opportunity to work with a real honest-to-God Siren?”

  I turn away from him and stare out the side window. His attempt to bring some levity to the situation just makes my heart heavier. When he reaches over to take my hand, my stomach knots, my heart wrenches.

  What the hell am I doing? Why did I suggest going to his house?

  Zack and I both know we aren’t going there just to walk on the beach.

  Liz’s face is stark and rigid in my head. Disapproving. Her words of warning and wisdom ring in
my ear. I know she means well. I know she’s right. I know that if I really, truly care for Zack, I need to protect him.

  I need to end things with him.

  Soon.

  CHAPTER 24

  I’d hoped the walk on the beach would clear my head, and for a while it does. Zack and I stroll in silence, watching the water, listening to the pounding of the surf. Our pace is leisurely. Clouds are beginning to roll in from the horizon. A stiff breeze batters the waves.

  Explains why we have the beach to ourselves.

  Still, I don’t complain. The chill in the air is a balm to my troubled spirit.

  My head is spinning. There’s what to do about Zack, of course. But Sarah and Kallistos are also weighing on my mind.

  Kallistos. I led him to Alan. He read me during that kiss, when I thought I was reading him. I’m sure of it now. It’s the only explanation I can think of. The memory of his kiss lingers in my head. I keep replaying it over and over, trying to pinpoint the moment of my monumental failure. I’ve grown too out of touch with the supernatural community. I’m out of practice. It would be wise to reacquaint myself with those in control as well as their politics. There is a certain amount of safety in anonymity, but knowledge is power, and the lack of it I possessed today about Kallistos Kouros has cost others and me. I can’t let him take me by surprise again. I need to find out all I can about Kallistos, and I know where I’m going to start.

  Liz.

  Then there’s Sarah. Did she and Zack really sleep together the other night? Does it matter? Either way, I know I should tell him she confronted me. Why am I so hesitant? Because part of me is afraid. Not for myself, for Zack. I know about werewolves and pack dynamics. Politics and power in their community, unlike that of the vampires, is constantly shifting. Some pack leaders rule with an iron fist and they can be brutal in their dealings with those over whom they have authority. I don’t know if Zack’s told me everything about why he left South Carolina. I don’t know if his going back would place him in danger. I do know the way he feels about me would. It could be Sarah isn’t all that bad. Perhaps she’d even be good for Zack, make him happy. Maybe if she was to stick around, and I was out of the picture, whatever they had could be rekindled.