Kris slid toward the outer door. She’d fling it open, call the police. They’d come running and take care of everything. If there was anything to take care of.
And if there wasn’t?
The idea of those officers looking at her with the same expression that had been on Alan Mac’s face when he believed she’d imagined the man in Urquhart Castle had her rethinking her plan. Death or embarrassment? Maybe she could compromise.
Kris opened the outer door, just in case she wasn’t crazy and she did need to shout for help; then she marched to her room, peered in the closet and under the bed, with a side trip to the bathroom, where she peeked behind the shower curtain.
She felt very foolish when she found nothing. Although not half as foolish as she’d have felt if she’d had the constables in here doing the same thing.
Kris shut the door, then sat on the couch. She had to admit, she was spooked.
But maybe that was okay. Better to be overcautious than floating at the bottom of the loch.
Kris glanced at the computer.
Then she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking.
CHAPTER 11
“What have you discovered?” Edward Mandenauer asked.
Kris scrambled over the back of the couch. “How did you get in there?”
“Irrelevant.” He waved the question away as if it were a pesky fly, the movement of his monkey’s paw hand causing Kris’s head to shift back and forth as though she were watching a tennis match. Right now, she really wished she were watching a tennis match.
In Prague.
“No, really,” she said. “How are you doing that?”
He could have hacked her Skype. But the old man’s image wasn’t in a Skype window. He filled the entire screen like wallpaper. Not to mention that up here Skype didn’t work.
Mandenauer squinted at her from wherever the hell he was. Where she stood, it looked like an abandoned bunker.
“I told you before. The Jäger-Suchers are well funded,” Mandenauer answered. “We can get ‘in’ wherever we like.”
Kris felt a trickle of unease. An all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful agency? Usually meant trouble.
“I have connections,” the old man continued. “The tools necessary to do all sorts of things are made available to me and my people first. We try them in the field. If we live, we get to keep them.”
Kris frowned. If they lived?
“Now.” He brushed his hands together. “Your turn.”
She told him about the missing girls.
“Strange,” Edward murmured, his frown causing his already-creased face to crease further.
“How so?”
“You do not think it’s strange there are nearly half a dozen women missing from such a small area?”
“Freaky, yes. Strange? Sadly no. Once a killer gets a taste, they keep on tasting.”
“Exactly. Monsters by their very nature are evil. They like to kill, and they do not stop until we make them.”
Kris opened her mouth to mention yet again that there was no monster, then decided why?
“How do we make them?”
“By discovering what type of monster it is. Once we know that, we will know how to kill the beast. I must check a few books, ask a few questions. I will get back to you. In the meantime, be careful. If he, or she…” He paused. “Well, for the sake of expediency we will use ‘he.’ If he discovers you are on to him, he will—”
Kris straightened, her fingers going to the knot on her temple concealed by her hair. “Bonk me over the head and try to drown me?”
“Yes.” Mandenauer’s lips tightened as Kris continued to rub her head. “Let me guess. He already did?”
She’d figured the local killer had been behind the attack last night. What she hadn’t figured was that she was anything more than a random target, and thus the culprit probably wouldn’t be back, since she was now on the alert. However, if he’d been after her to begin with that put a whole new twist on things.
“Shyte,” she muttered. “I’m gonna need a gun.”
“There’s a drawer in that table.”
Kris tilted her head, narrowing her gaze before opening the drawer. She wasn’t surprised to see just what she’d asked for—a bright and shiny new gun.
“I suppose this was beamed from there to here with some sort of Star Trek technology.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the thing. “Or maybe there’s a wormhole.” She snapped her fingers. “A hologram?”
“Are you through?” Edward asked.
“How’d it get here?”
“I put it there,” he said.
“Time travel,” she muttered.
He peered down his nose at her. “Now you are just being silly.”
Kris reached for the gun.
“It is loaded with silver.”
She pulled back as if burned. “Are you serious?”
“When discussing silver, always.”
“Why silver?” she asked, even though she just knew the answer would reignite her headache.
“When in doubt,” Mandenauer murmured, “silver wins out.”
“Put it on a T-shirt, old man. Why is this gun loaded with silver bullets?”
“Because any other type would be the same as none at all.”
Yep, her headache came roaring back.
Mandenauer must have seen she’d reached the end of what had been, until she’d met him, a much longer rope. “Silver works on most shape-shifters.”
“Shape…,” Kris began, and then: “What?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Than shape-shifter? Damn straight. Se-ri-al kill-er,” she said, enunciating every syllable.
“You say serial killer. I say shape-shifter. Tomato. Tomahto,” he replied.
“You’re crazy.”
“You won’t be saying that when you shoot your attacker with silver and flames burst from the wound.”
Kris blinked. Then she blinked again. Then she glanced at the gun in the drawer and back at Mandenauer. “Seriously?”
“When am I ever not serious?”
Kris shut the drawer. The gun slid across the bottom and smacked against the rear. She winced, hoping it wouldn’t go off and kill her. A silver bullet was still a bullet and, she assumed, worked pretty much the same way as lead.
“I’ve never used a gun,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I can.”
“What is so hard?” Mandenauer lifted one bony shoulder. “You point the long end at what you want to shoot and pull the trigger.”
Something she’d already thought for herself. But that had been before she’d actually had a gun. Now that she’d held the weapon in her hand she wasn’t sure it was all that easy.
Mandenauer must have seen the indecision on her face, because he continued. “Usually these things get very close, and when there are teeth, and claws, and death snapping at you, you will shoot.”
Maybe she would, but— “I can’t carry a gun everywhere.”
“I do.”
“How do you get away with that?” she asked. “The whole world isn’t Texas.”
“More’s the pity,” Edward murmured. “But I have—”
“Connections,” she finished.
“If you are uncomfortable with the gun, there is a silver knife, too.” Edward pointed downward at the drawer.
Kris jerked on the handle again. The gun slid forward.
So did a knife.
She scowled at Mandenauer. “That was not there before.”
“Listen to what you are saying.”
She did, and she had to agree. She’d hopped the express train to Crazyville. Where they loaded their guns with silver bullets and went hunting for serial-killing shape-shifters.
Was that redundant? Kris shut the drawer.
“Start with the village,” Mandenauer said. “A monster could not exist undetected this long without someone, or several someones, protecting it.”
“You think Nessie is the killer?” Kris couldn�
��t believe those words had actually left her mouth.
“So far we have two deaths by drowning in a loch where the most famous lake monster in the world lives. What is it that you youngsters like to say?” He put a finger to his temple, then flicked it away. “Ah, yes. You do the math.”
“I don’t believe Nessie exists. Which really screws up your equation.”
“Here is the truth: Either Nessie is killing people or someone wants us to think that she is and then kill her.”
“Why?”
“Discover that and you will discover all you need to know.”
Mandenaeur was probably right. Just because Kris didn’t think the culprit in this case was an ancient waterlogged dinosaur didn’t mean there wasn’t something—someone—else out there behaving like a monster and laying the blame on the shores of Loch Ness. If she discovered who was behind the new hoax, she’d have either the perpetrator of the whole hoax or someone who could possibly lead Kris to him.
“Why would Nessie suddenly start to kill people?” Kris asked.
Mandenauer’s lips twitched. “I thought you did not believe in Nessie.”
“I don’t. But won’t those who do believe, like you, wonder what the hell?”
“My dear,” he murmured, “I always wonder ‘what the hell?’”
“It just makes no sense for a lake monster that has, up until now, never hurt anyone—”
“That is not true.”
Kris tensed. “What do you mean?”
“The first sighting of the Loch Ness Monster was by Saint Columba, who came along the river Ness and spied a funeral. He was told that the man being buried had been mauled by the water beast. The good Irish priest then sent one of his underlings into the water, where he was promptly attacked by said beast.”
“Nice guy.”
“He proved his point.”
“Which was?”
“God is great. Columba called upon God to banish the beast, and the beast was banished.”
“You believe a mere man could call off a monster?”
“He was not a mere man but a saint.”
“Not then.”
“Men, and women, become saints because of what they do when they are not saints.”
“Is there a point in this?” Kris asked.
“The point is that Nessie has attacked before.”
“Fifteen hundred years ago!”
“Perhaps being seen that one time was enough to make her more careful in the future.”
“And perhaps this is all hooey,” Kris muttered.
“Perhaps,” Mandenauer agreed.
“If she’s been drowning people for centuries without anyone the wiser, why is everything falling apart now?”
“Yes, why?”
Kris’s eye began to throb, and she lifted her hand to rub at the ache. “Just tell me what you think.”
“Either someone’s been protecting her—”
Kris dropped her arm. “While she murders people?”
“You would not believe what some will do because of a tradition, a vow, or for money.”
Actually, she would.
“Perhaps she has killed someone recently,” Mandenauer continued, “or done something else, that has made someone very angry. And while he, or she, cannot throw Nessie to the wolves—us—outright for reasons we do not know yet, this person plans to make sure she is blamed for whatever is rotten in Loch Ness.”
“She,” Kris repeated. “When we talk about Nessie, we automatically use the feminine pronoun. But when we’re talking about the killer, we slip into ‘he.’”
“And?”
“Are we looking for a woman or a man?”
“Traditionally serial killers are men.”
“Middle-aged white men who are the best damn neighbors in the whole world,” Kris muttered, and caught the twitch of Mandenauer’s mouth once more before he controlled it.
“In the realm of the supernatural most beings kill without compunction. Male. Female. Something in between.”
“In between?” Kris’s lip curled.
“We are talking monsters, beasts, things that go bump in the night and the day. Many are not bound by gender. Some have none; some have both.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Shape-shifters shift shape.” Mandenauer spread his hands. “They could be anything.”
“Fabulous,” Kris muttered. “How is it that you’ve been coming here for years and you still haven’t caught the culprit?”
“It is not a ‘culprit.’” Mandenauer’s voice had gone soft, but his gaze bored into hers. “The word hints at choice, and a monster has none. It kills. Period. If the beast we are searching for is not in the loch, it is wandering these hills or those streets. You will need to end it before it ends you.”
“This is crazy.” Kris’s voice wavered. “I can’t just shoot someone because I think they’re a supernatural serial killer.”
Mandenauer shrugged. “So prove they are, then shoot them.”
“And how do I do that?”
“If silver will kill them, it will also burn them.”
“I should prick anyone I suspect with a knife just to see if they fry?” Kris shoved her hair out of her face. “I am so gonna wind up behind bars.”
“Not if you touch them with the Celtic cross instead of a knife.”
“Celtic cross?” she repeated.
“Since it is basically a type of crucifix, the Celtic cross will work on vampires, too.”
Kris let her head fall between her shoulders. “Go away,” she murmured. “Just … go away.”
When she looked up, the computer screen was blue. Kris glanced at the clock. Nearly noon. Though it had felt like a few minutes, over an hour had passed while she talked to him. Not that she had anywhere to go, but she hadn’t done much work since she’d arrived and she really needed to.
While earlier she had decided to stay out of the forest and hills surrounding the loch while the constables searched for Carrie, maybe now would be the perfect time to go into them. At least she wouldn’t be alone.
Kris retrieved her video camera, but as she headed for the door she glanced at the coffee table. Should she really go anywhere without the gun? Although taking a gun around a lot of cops … probably a bad idea.
“Ya think?” she muttered. “The knife isn’t the best choice, either.”
However, she might be able to talk her way out of jail if she was found in the woods with a knife. She could be using it to take samples of …
“Trees. Leaves. Branches.” Wow. She was lying like a pro these days.
Kris crossed the short distance and opened the drawer. Then she just stared at the items that slid into view.
A gun. A knife.
And a silver Celtic cross on a chain.
*
Liam watched Kris leave the cottage and head down the road at a brisk pace. She carried a small backpack and appeared like a woman on a mission.
He slid out of sight and made his way to where Alan Mac awaited.
The eastern shore saw far fewer people than the western. The terrain was rougher, the trees thicker, and therefore the loch not as easily seen or reached. It discouraged all but the most competent outdoorsmen.
“We’ve got trouble, ye ken?”
Liam didn’t answer what hadn’t really been a question. He knew they had trouble. What he didn’t know was what they were going to do about it.
“There are women disappearing all over the damn loch,” Alan Mac muttered. “We might have been able to keep this quiet a bit longer. But then that writer woman found a body.”
Liam thought that if it hadn’t been her, it would only have been someone else.
“Ye should stay away from her.”
Alan Mac was beginning to repeat himself.
“She might be a Jäger-Sucher.” Liam snorted, and the constable’s gaze flicked to his. “She’s up to something. And she’s too nosy by half.”
Liam lifted his hea
d; Alan Mac lifted his palm as if to halt any comment. “I know. She was attacked, has a big knot on the head, nearly wound up in the loch with—” Alan Mac’s gaze flicked to Liam’s, and he sighed. “If she were one of Mandenauer’s people, she’d be fine and whoever is doing this would be in pieces.”
Liam nodded thoughtfully. Alan Mac was right.
The man scrubbed at his fiery hair in frustration. “There’s just … something about her.”
Liam had to agree. He wished he knew what it was.
Suddenly Alan Mac cursed. Liam followed his gaze to where Kris Daniels had appeared, video camera in hand and trained on the water.
Both Alan and Liam slipped out of sight.
*
Kris had tossed the chain that held the Celtic cross over her neck, concealing the icon beneath her sweater. She wasn’t sure how much good it would do. Didn’t amulets and the like need a wearer’s belief in them to actually work?
Kris blew a derisive breath between her lips. Right. An amulet would keep her safe. Sure. Uh-huh.
She picked up the knife. She definitely knew this would work.
Kris headed south, past Urquhart Castle, following the path of A82, which skirted the loch on one side and brushed against trees on the other. She didn’t run into any of Alan Mac’s men. When she pulled out her binoculars and peered across the loch, she saw why.
They were all over there.
Well, if anyone had anything to hide, that’s where they’d hide it. In the wild, craggy, heavily wooded, mountainous expanse to the east.
However, Kris didn’t think they were going to find anything.
She turned her gaze to the murky, swirling waters of Loch Ness. Why leave a body over there when you could simply toss it in here? Some might wash up, but the majority did not.
Kris lifted her camera, filmed a bit of the far shore. It would make good background for the show. Much more foreboding than this side, which was full of tourists and restaurants and castles with cafés.
Something shimmied at the corner of her viewfinder, and Kris shifted the camera a bit. Then she lowered the thing just enough so she could see over the top.
Shadows capered at the edge of the forest and across the surface of the water, chasing one another to and fro. She glanced up. Clouds were moving in. She should probably head back before both she and her video camera got wet. Except—
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