by Tina Folsom
“I want to be part of Scanguards.”
“In what capacity?”
She laughed. “I’m not interested in being a grunt. As a Stealth Guardian I was a warrior for several centuries, before I became a member of the Council of Nine. I paid my dues. I’m not going to pay them a second time.”
“I’m afraid the top management positions are taken.” Besides, his rank at Scanguards wasn’t high enough to recommend anybody for a management position. Those were given out by merit, and by merit alone.
“You think I’m talking about being in management?” She shook her head vehemently. “How boring! Don’t you get it? I want to feel adrenaline charge through my veins again. I want to fight.”
He froze. “Fight?”
“Yes, I want you to get me a position at Scanguards that deals with the worst criminals, the most dangerous situations.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, not crazy. But I need a challenge. I need to prove that I can still do it.” She pounded her fist against her chest. “That what’s in here hasn’t changed just because my body has changed.”
“Is this about the actions that caused the Stealth Guardians to exile you? Because if it is, then I’m gonna tell you right now, you paid for that with your life. You paid for that on the battlefield when you took a dagger for Virginia.”
Virginia, a Stealth Guardian, who was now the wife of Scanguards’ resident witch, Wesley, had nearly lost her life in a battle with demons, had Deirdre not thrown herself into the path of the dagger meant for Virginia. Mortally wounded, Deirdre would have died, but Virginia had begged John to save her life by turning her into a vampire. Deirdre hadn’t had a choice in the matter, and John kept wondering whether he’d done the right thing, or whether it would have been more merciful letting Deirdre die on the battlefield. It would have been an honorable death in her eyes.
“You’ve redeemed yourself,” he added.
Deirdre shook her head. “Maybe in your eyes, maybe even in my brother’s eyes. My standards are higher.”
“Don’t you appreciate that you’ve been given a second chance? Why risk this new life you’ve been given?”
“That’s funny, coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t you do the same every day? Risk your life because you think you’ve got nothing worth living for anymore? You of all people should understand where I’m coming from.”
He’d never talked about his own heartbreak. There was no way Deirdre could know. “You don’t know anything.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t know what exactly it is that makes you think you’ve got nothing to live for, but every time I see you I can sense it. It’s all around you. So don’t deny me what you do every day. I need this.”
John took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air, and sighed. “Very well, if that’s what you want.”
“I do.”
“I’ll talk to Samson.”
“Thank you.”
7
Savannah thanked the Lyft driver and got out of the Prius. It was mid-morning, and she hadn’t actually wanted to come to the office, but she had responsibilities she’d been neglecting since Buffy’s disappearance. And a few of these things had to be taken care of. She would only stay for two or three hours, make sure Alexi and Rachel knew what to do, and then she’d leave and do what she’d done the last few days: go to all the places in the city that Buffy liked, and speak to anybody who knew her in the hopes that somebody remembered something.
Savannah entered the office building in the SoMa district, where she rented a small suite for herself and her two full-time employees. There was no doorman, no security, which kept the rent at a reasonable level. She didn’t bother with the elevator and instead took the stairs to the second floor. At the door to the suite, she stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, then entered.
The suite consisted of only two rooms: one large, open-plan office and a smaller, glass-enclosed room for meetings. There were several workstations with computers, one for her, one each for Alexi and Rachel, and another one, just in case she needed to hire additional help. Only one workstation was occupied.
Alexi looked up from his screen. “Good morning, Savannah.” The blond, blue-eyed Russian still had a heavy accent, although he’d been working in the US for five years. His John Lennon glasses gave him a geeky look, one that was underscored by his slim frame and lack of fashion sense. But she hadn’t hired him for his looks. Alexi was brilliant, his computer skills superior, his knowledge of algorithms and encryption second to none. Though he’d been working for her for only eight months, he’d already earned back double his first year’s salary. With his help she’d landed a lucrative contract with a major bank, and Alexi was doing most of the work for it. A win-win.
“Morning, Alexi,” she greeted him and placed her handbag on the desk opposite him, then glanced at the empty desk next to his. “Rachel not in yet?”
“She called in sick this morning.” He scoffed. “Again.”
“What do you mean by again?”
“She was sick yesterday, too. Left me hanging with the coding for the supermarket cashiering upgrade. I was here till eleven last night.”
Annoyance boiled up in Savannah. She should have known that things would go sideways when she took time off. “I’m sorry, I should have been here. Why didn’t you call me?”
Alexi tilted his head sideways and gave her a serious look. “You have enough to worry about. I shouldn’t even have mentioned it. Forget about it. Tell me: have the police made any progress? Any leads?”
Savannah sank into her chair and automatically reached for the on-button of her computer to boot it up. She met Alexi’s gaze and shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“You’re already doing it. You’re holding down the fort. I’m grateful for that.” At least she didn’t have to worry about her business in addition to everything else. “So what’s wrong with Rachel? Did she say when she’ll be back?”
Alexi shrugged. “No idea. Her cough sounded a bit fake if you ask me. Maybe she thought she would play hooky while you’re out.”
“You don’t know that. There’s been a bug going around in the city. Maybe she caught it.” After all, Rachel was a hard worker and not one to skip work on a regular basis.
Alexi grunted to himself, then said, “You’re probably right.”
“If she’s not in tomorrow, I’ll call her, okay?” Her computer booted up and she logged on. “Are the bank files ready?”
“They’re in your folder for approval. There were a few issues with the encryption, but I fixed them. And I added a few lines of code, so that outage they experienced last week shouldn’t happen again.”
“Great, I’ll check it out.” She navigated to the folder and was about to open the file, when she heard the door open. Her gaze shot to it. Had Rachel decided to come to work after all?
But it wasn’t Rachel who entered the suite. A blond man in his late forties, early fifties, dressed in a well-fitting business suit, entered, but when his eyes fell on Alexi, he hesitated. Had he come to the wrong place?
Savannah rose. “May I help you?”
The stranger’s gaze landed on her. “This is Rice Communications, isn’t it?” He spoke with an accent she couldn’t place.
“Yes.”
He smiled, a sign of relief filling his face. “Then I’m in the right place. I’m sorry I’m a little late, but I’m a little bit jetlagged, and I must have forgotten to set the alarm last night. I should have asked the hotel staff to wake me.”
Confused, she looked at Alexi, who pulled up his shoulders in a helpless shrug.
“I’m sorry, you are…?” Savannah asked.
With an outstretched hand, he approached her. “Viktor Stricklund, nice to meet you.”
“Stricklund?” The name meant nothing to her.
He hesitated again. “Yes, from Stockholm. Sweden.” His forehead furrowed. “We had an appointment about half an hour ago. Again, I’m so sorry I’m late. I hope you’ll be able to see me nevertheless. I traveled all the way from Sweden.”
Savannah continued to shake her head. “But I made no appointment with you.”
“Well, I didn’t speak to you directly, that’s correct, but I spoke to your assistant. Just a few days ago.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes, yes, Rachel,” he confirmed and reached for her hand. She felt obliged to shake it.
“Mr. Stricklund, there must have been a misunderstanding. Rachel knew I couldn’t take any new appointments this week.”
“But I got a confirmation from her.”
Savannah looked at Alexi. “I asked Rachel not to make any appointments for this week and cancel everything on my calendar. Didn’t she do that?”
Alexi looked surprised. “I’m pretty sure she did. At least she said she did.”
Savannah turned back to the Swedish businessman. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stricklund, I don’t know what to say about this mix-up. Rachel should have never made this appointment.”
“But, I’m here now. I traveled all the way from Sweden. Surely you can spare me an hour to discuss business.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t.” She felt a lump in her throat. She couldn’t deal with business now. She could barely hold herself together, let alone conduct a business meeting with a potential new client.
“I can come back this afternoon if that’s more convenient,” Stricklund offered.
“Mr. Stricklund—”
Alexi interrupted her. “I’ll handle this, Savannah.” Then he looked at Stricklund. “I’m afraid, Mr. Stricklund, Ms. Rice is dealing with a family emergency and can’t conduct any business right now. We’re sorry. I’ll make sure we reimburse you for your travel expenses. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave Ms. Rice in peace now.”
Stunned, the businessman’s look bounced between her and Alexi. He appeared annoyed now. “Family emergency? What can be so important—”
“My daughter…” She didn’t even realize that she’d spoken. She knew that she didn’t have to justify herself, but the words just found their way over her lips. “…she has disappeared.” Savannah’s throat tightened like it always did when she spoke of Buffy.
Stricklund jolted visibly. “Oh my God! That’s horrible! You must be beside yourself with worry.” He put his hand to his chest. “I’m so sorry. I need to apologize. If I’d known…”
“I’m sorry that you’ve been inconvenienced,” Savannah said, having found her voice again.
Stricklund made a dismissive hand movement. “Don’t worry about me. Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head, heartened by his sudden kindness and concern. “No, there’s nothing you can do, Mr. Stricklund.”
“The police, they are looking for her, aren’t they?”
“Yes, yes, they are.”
“It’s not enough, I’m sure. I have many contacts, maybe I can find somebody who can help with the search?”
She forced a smile. “That’s very nice of you, but there’s no need. I’ve already hired a private firm to help with the search.” And she hoped Scanguards would take the case and find Buffy. But she hadn’t heard back from John yet. What was taking him so long?
“Oh good, that’s good. One can’t rely on the police alone.”
She nodded.
“Well,” he said, “then I’d better leave you.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure you’ll be reunited with your child soon. I can feel it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stricklund.”
He let go of her hand, nodded at Alexi, and left the suite.
For a few moments there was only silence in the office, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heart.
“Is that true?”
She looked back at Alexi.
“That you hired an outside firm to help with the search for Buffy. Or did you just say that to get rid of Stricklund?”
“No, it’s true. I contacted Scanguards last night.”
“Scanguards?” Alexi’s forehead furrowed and he typed something on his keyboard, then pointed at the computer screen. “Thought I’d seen the name before. But aren’t they just some sort of security company? You know, security guards watching office buildings at night?”
“I guess that’s part of what they do. But they also do investigations.”
“You mean like PI work?”
“Yes. The police recommended them.”
“I guess then they must be good.”
From everything she’d seen so far in her encounter with John and from the research she’d done on the company, plus Detective Donnelly’s wholehearted recommendation, she was convinced that they were the best, if not the only, people who could help her find Buffy.
She met Alexi’s eyes. “I hope so.”
Alexi nodded. “They’ll find her. They have to. Or it’s going to get really boring here. Who else will annoy me with a million questions while I’m on a deadline if not Buffy, huh?” He smiled warmly.
“Yeah, she does that, doesn’t she?”
He winked at her. “She’s going to be as smart as her mother when she’s all grown up. You’ll see.”
Savannah forced a smile. “Thank you, Alexi. You’re the best.”
8
John hadn’t bothered going home at sunrise and had instead stayed at the office to continue working through the police reports on the abductions. Several hours before sunset, John showered in the gym in the basement and helped himself to blood from the tap at the V Lounge, Scanguards’ recreation area accessible only to vampires. It was like a hotel lounge with comfortable seating areas, a bar, and a fireplace. During the day it was deserted, but his ID card gave him access to the restricted area.
He’d gulped down two full glasses of O-Neg and now leaned his head back against the pillow of one of the deep sofas, closing his eyes for a moment. He was too wound up to be able to sleep, but it felt good to rest his eyes after reading hundreds of pages of reports, trying to find a common denominator that connected the abductions. Without success. No wonder the police was stumped.
At the sound of the door opening, he blinked and recognized Oliver, a vampire who’d been working for Scanguards for nearly three decades, first as a human assistant to the founder, and later, after his turning, as a bodyguard.
When Oliver spotted him, he waved and approached. “Have you seen Blake?”
“Nope.”
“You’re in early.”
John blew out a breath of air. “Make that late.”
“You sleep here?”
“Didn’t have much time to sleep.” He motioned to the empty glass in front of him. “I just came to refuel.”
“Heavy caseload?”
“You could say that.”
“Did you hear that Gabriel is suggesting we put the hybrids on regular patrol duty?”
John pulled up one side of his mouth in a half-chuckle. Apparently, Gabriel was taking his words to heart. “Ran into Amaury last night. Apparently, I’m babysitting the twins tonight.”
Oliver laughed and ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. “I wouldn’t call that babysitting. Those two are the furthest advanced in their training. Besides Ryder.”
“I notice you don’t include Grayson on that list.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Grayson is about as mature as my son.”
“Your son is what, eleven?”
“Twelve.”
“Well, then you’d better not let Grayson hear that you think he’s no more grown-up than Sebastian.”
“Don’t worry, I can keep my mouth shut.”
John nodded. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“You were involved in that blood brothel case twenty-something years ago, right?”
Oliver stiffened, the memory clearly not a pleasa
nt one. Long before John had joined Scanguards, the company had exposed a group of vampires who’d kept dozens of women as blood whores. Like pimps they’d sold them to other vampires to feed on.
“Yeah, I was. We rescued Ursula and all the others. Made sure all of the vampires involved were taken care of. I killed their leader myself.” There was a satisfied glint in Oliver’s eyes, which now shimmered golden as his vampire nature rose to the surface.
“Yeah, I heard about that. Are you sure that nobody of that outfit is left?”
“Absolutely. Why you asking?”
John sighed. “It’s this case I’m evaluating for Donnelly.”
“What’s he sent you?” Oliver asked with interest and sat down in the chair opposite.
“Child abductions.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah. They’ve got no leads. I went through the police reports to see if I could find similarities.”
“And?”
“Nothing that I can see. Some of the kids were abducted during daytime, some at night.” Which, in itself made vampire involvement doubtful. “No pattern that I can detect. And the kids come from different backgrounds. Some are black, some white, some Asian. Again no pattern. So I’m trying to figure out if something else connects them. I was thinking about the blood brothel case.”
Oliver shook his head. “You can stop right there. All the victims were Chinese. Actually, when I looked up their backgrounds after we’d freed them, we found that all of them came from the Chinese Emperor’s direct line. They all shared the same blood. That’s why they were taken. I can’t see how kids from diverse backgrounds could possibly have that kind of connection. I doubt it’s their blood.”
John knew the question had been a long shot, but he didn’t want anything to remain unexplored. “Hmm.”
“Did the parents get ransom notes?”
“No. Not a single one.”
“How old are the children?”
“Between nine and twelve. All girls.”
Oliver looked straight at him. “All girls?”
John nodded.
“Pretty girls? You know like JonBenet Ramsey pretty?”