No telling how active the ghosts would be tonight or how they’d react to this bunch. The weather was too calm to stir up the ghosts, and after they’d dodged vampires last night, they could be hiding from me or ticked off and ready to get even. Ghosts could be every bit as touchy or cranky or playful as they had been when they were alive.
It would be nice if none of the spring breakers barfed on me. Since my Minorcan costume blouse was shot—literally—the Regency gown was all I had for work.
My phone rang just as I was about to start my opening spiel, and I fumbled in the reticule for it.
“Hey, Cesca,” Saber said when I answered. The connection wasn’t great but adequate. “Have you started the tour yet?”
“Nope, what’s up?”
“I’ll be late catching up with you. I’m in Palatka chasing down this werebite report.”
Palatka was forty-five minutes southwest of St. Augustine. Not a bad drive, but he wouldn’t make it back by nine.
“It’ll be closer to nine thirty before I get there. Should I find you in town or meet you at the condo?”
“I’ll call you when I finish, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Great. No vampires on the tour, right?”
“Nope, just spring breakers.”
“Drunk?”
“Pretty snockered.”
“Give ’em the full show. That ought to sober them up.”
I laughed. “Oooh, evil, Saber.”
“Be careful, Princesca. I’ll see you later.”
I couldn’t help the grin I felt spread over my face. Saber had sounded like he missed me. What a high. Now I could deal with anything. I set the cell phone to vibrate, dropped it in my reticule, and turned to my group to implement Saber’s advice.
“Good evening and welcome to Old Coast Ghost Tours. I’m Cesca, and we have an exciting night ahead of us.” I waded through their beer and tequila fumes to snag the lantern. “If you’ll give me your tickets, we’ll get started.”
Nine pairs of eyes blinked stupidly. One set still held some awareness.
“Are you the designated driver?” I asked the not-drunk-stupid young man with shaggy brown hair.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ah, manners. “Are you also the designated ticket holder?”
“Oh, yeah, here,” he said, thrusting a handful at me.
“Thank you.”
I stashed the tickets in the substation and prepared to find out how functional this group was. I’d stick to the most brightly lit and well-traveled streets first for safety. If one of them fell off a curb, I could get help fast.
“St. Augustine was founded in 1565 and is one of the most haunted cities in America. Tonight we’ll even go into a few of the buildings where ghosts have been reported, but we’ll start with the Huguenot Cemetery.”
I told the Judge Stickney story, and before I could go on, two of the girls screeched that someone was pulling on their clothes and hair. The ghost culprit was either Erastus Nye or John Hull playing pranks. Both were thought to have contracted yellow fever, I explained. The encounter began the sobering process for the whole group.
Sobering to me were the occasional whiffs of blood in the air and the periodic rrryyyow of the magick cat. Or I thought it was the magick cat’s howl. Perhaps it was just a cat in heat. I never saw the animal or sensed the source of the blood smell as I traipsed the college kids all over haunted downtown for the full hour and a half.
We skipped Fay’s House, but we had chills and thrills from the other ghosts with no stumbles, falls, or upchucking. The ghosts didn’t seem to hold a grudge against me for the vampire tour, and I got through the night without threats or injuries from or to humans. The way my tours had gone? This was a major victory.
I parted ways with my group back at the waterwheel at nine thirty-five and pulled out my phone to call Saber.
I found three messages waiting. Figuring one was from Saber, I called voice mail.
The first message was from PI Eugene Cassidy who’d rushed his contact in Paris for answers. My mouth fell open as I listened. The chemical company that employed Etienne, he said, had done some investigating while Etienne and Yolette were gone. They proved Etienne had been using their facilities for a private project. From the company’s own chemical analysis and Etienne’s project notes, they concluded Etienne had created a blood scent designed to lure vampires.
Damn, no wonder I smelled blood every time Etienne was around. I thought of the photo Eugene had taken of Etienne with a vampire hanging all over him. He’d put the scent on himself. Maybe from the flask.
Eugene’s message ended with the tidbit that he suspected Etienne and Yolette’s honeymoon trip was a cover for Etienne to peddle the formula to the U.S. Covenant organization.
Double damn, that fit. The Covenant could lure and kill almost any vampire with Etienne’s invention.
I saved Eugene’s message, then listened to one from Saber. He’d talked to Eugene, too, but also to March. Etienne and Yolette’s rental house was empty, and the sheriff’s office had issued a BOLO—be on the lookout—for Etienne.
The last message was from Maggie, and her voice froze the blood in my veins.
“Cesca,” she said, her tone tense and too controlled. “Come to Fay’s House right after the tour. Don’t call the police. What?” she snapped at someone in the background.
Someone whose voice I recognized.
“All right. Cesca, the French guy says to come alone or he’ll kill me.”
The message ended. Reality sank in. Etienne had Maggie.
TWENTY
Instinct urged me to streak to Maggie’s rescue, tear out Etienne’s beating heart, and hand it to him. Reason prevailed.
Don’t call the cops? Screw that. They could catch Etienne red-handed if they got rolling fast enough.
I saved Maggie’s message as evidence and found Saber’s number on my incoming list.
“Saber,” I said when he answered. “Call 911. Etienne has kidnapped Maggie.”
“I’m ten minutes out. Where is she?”
“At Fay’s House,” I said, pacing. “On Cuna and Spanish, I think, but I could be off by a block.”
“You grew up here and you don’t know the damned address?”
“Nag me later,” I snapped.
“Cesca, he’ll want you in exchange for Maggie.”
“I don’t know why the hell he would, but I’ll do what it takes to protect her.”
“Can I talk you into waiting for the cavalry?”
“Can pigs friggin’ fly?”
“Then be careful.”
“Just get here in time to catch him in the act, Saber.”
I disconnected and, with only a smidge of conscious thought, I was there in vampire-speed seconds—just five feet from Fay’s front porch.
Maggie, pale and gagged, sat on the wooden steps, her hands and feet bound to the stair rail with large red plastic cable ties.
Etienne, reeking of blood scent, stood over her with the barrel of a big, black pistol trained at the top of her head. He aimed a second, sleeker black gun at me.
Fay’s furious ghostly face floated at the window, and she rattled the panes until I was sure the glass would break and rain shards on Maggie.
I took in the scene in a matter of seconds and moved slowly closer. No point in spooking Etienne.
“Did he hurt you?” I asked, kneeling at Maggie’s feet.
Maggie shook her head, a tumble of emotions in her eyes.
“Ah, Francesca. You arrive at last, and with touching concern for your friend.”
I looked up. “Etienne.”
I wanted to full-out energy-drain the bastard on the spot, but he’d been around a lot of vampires. At the first tug on his aura, he might shoot Maggie. I couldn’t risk that.
“What do you want to let Maggie go?”
“You, ma petite.”
I stood, fists clenched. “Fine. You’ve got me. Now what?”
Etienne laugh
ed. “Do you not care to know why I want you?”
“Knock yourself out,” I said through gritted teeth. “Tell me.”
He gave me a slow, chilling smile. “You are a vampire and a virgin and have power magnifique waiting to be—how do you say it? Tapped. I, Etienne, will initiate you to lovemaking and vos pouvoirs fleuriront. Your power, it will blossom. Ah, what sexual delights await you with me as your lover.”
I let the virgin thing pass as he descended two steps.
“What I do not understand is why you have not come to me sooner. The formule, it has worked fabuleusement bien on all the other vampires.”
“The blood scent formula?”
“Oui. It worked so well, it rid Yolette of her rich husband.”
Suddenly I was in Etienne’s mind, reading his twisted thoughts. Pictures whirled, vile pictures of shredded flesh and spattered blood. Of death-stare eyes and a soul locked in the memory of terror. Of a woman with a pointed chin in the throes of passion on a beach, then broken in the sand and washed by waves. I saw more, saw everything Yolette and Etienne had done, and words tumbled out.
“Yolette used too much of your scent on purpose, and Rachelle killed James in a bloodlust, didn’t she? You helped Yolette cover the crime, but you knew the truth, because you were there watching from a safe room. It was you I heard on Monday night. You said James’s death was an accident, but you thought the word Murder.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed as he came down another step.
“Very good, ma petite. Your powers, they may be even more formidable than I thought. What else do you know?”
“You lured Rachelle to the beach, but Yolette killed her. Then you used the same method to kill Yolette.”
“You are correct. Fitting, n’est-ce pas?”
“But you didn’t kill Yolette for her money—or rather James’s money. You killed her because she threatened to frame you for James’s and Rachelle’s murders and take your formula.”
Etienne shrugged. “Oui, it is true. Yolette, she is jaloux of you and your powers that will be. She does not wish me to have you. Pah, she has no vision. Mais moi, I have the grand plans.”
“How did you rig it so we’d find Yolette’s body?”
“Ah, ironique, was it not?” He chuckled. “Yolette, she was meant to sink with the boat. I report her missing. Days go by, and she is found eaten by the fishes or not found at all. I am the grieving husband. Très tragique, but now I have you, mon cher.”
Etienne came down the last two steps, the pistol now aimed at me, the sleeker gun at Maggie.
A low, menacing rrryyyow sounded close, and I heard soft footfalls from the back of Fay’s house. Cat was here? Were the cops? Had Etienne heard? His gaze flicked toward another, louder rrryyyow. Full diversion time.
“Too bad you’ve done all this for nothing, Etienne,” I said. “I’m not a virgin, and your formula doesn’t work on me. The smell of blood makes me sick.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Then you will become accustomed to the scent, and you will crave it as you crave me. I will control your desire, your powers and the formule.”
“Wrong,” I said, fists on my hips. “I’d rather stake myself than have sex with you, and no one—no one—will control me again. Ever.”
He pressed the smaller gun to Maggie’s temple, and my heart tripped.
“You want your friend to die?”
“No, damn it.”
“Then we will walk. My auto is in the next block.”
Walking was good. I’d get him away from Maggie and then use one of these powers everyone kept yammering about.
I gave Maggie a reassuring smile as Etienne stuck the smaller gun in his waistband. He hooked an arm around my neck, and we turned from the main part of town.
We hadn’t taken five steps when Gorman stepped from behind a huge hibiscus bush, a honking huge gun pointed at us.
“You ain’t leavin’ yet, Frenchie. I got a score to settle for that beatin’ you gave me.”
In one smooth motion, Etienne raised his pistol and shot Gorman dead center. It was so fast, I thought I’d imagined it until Gorman folded in half and hit the pavement.
As he did, I caught a flash of movement from between two buildings on the other side of the street.
Time slowed, but events didn’t.
Etienne aimed, Saber aimed, and I leapt into the air, half pulling Etienne with me. From the astonished look on Saber’s face, I might have honest-to-goodness flown toward him until one bullet tore through my thigh, another through my back. Saber tried to break my fall, but I fell short of his arms and bounced on the pavement.
Two more shots, and a vicious rrryyyow echoed in the street, then silence except for the wail of sirens.
Maggie. Saber. Had Etienne shot them both like he had Gorman? Raw fear like I hadn’t known in centuries drove me to my feet.
Yowling, screaming, and pain-racked French curses erupted behind me as I looked for Maggie. She was still tethered to the rail, her eyes the size of saucers, but she was alive and not bleeding.
Saber lived, too. He stood with his gun wavering between Etienne and Cat in her full panther form. Cat held Etienne’s throat in her jaws and had drawn blood but hadn’t torn his throat out. She rolled her amber eyes at me as if to ask what I wanted her to do.
“No, Saber,” I shouted and staggered to him. “Don’t shoot Cat. Please.”
“Cesca, get back. This cat is a fucking werepanther.”
“Trust me, she’s not.” I gently sank my hand into the stiff ruff of fur at Cat’s neck. “Release the man and hide.”
She obeyed but met my gaze before she spun, loped between the two buildings across the street, and disappeared.
From the corner of my eye I saw Saber shove the gun in his holster as officers poured into the street from both ends. He dealt with the officials, and I lurched to Maggie’s side to carefully remove the gag.
“Are you all right?” I asked, awkwardly hugging her. “Oh, Maggie, I’m so sorry. I should’ve warned you about Etienne.”
“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” she croaked, her throat obviously dry. “He surprised me. Acted like you’d told me all about him.”
“Why did you leave the condo?” I asked, cautiously tugging on the plastic ties I saw were biting into her skin. I might’ve been able to snap them with vampire strength, but couldn’t risk hurting her more. “Damn, I need scissors to get these off.”
I called Saber over as Maggie said, “I was coming on the tour. To protect you.” She gripped my hand. “Guess my little girl’s grown up this weekend.”
“Your little girl,” Saber said from the foot of the stairs, “is in a shitload of trouble. Here, let’s get you free.”
He flipped what looked like mini–wire cutters from a Swiss Army knife and, in under a minute, Maggie was on her feet, supported between two paramedics. She insisted I needed medical attention, too, maybe to save me from the wrath blazing in Saber’s eyes.
But Saber moved fast. He grabbed my shoulders and backed me up the steps almost to Fay’s front door.
“Why the hell did you jump into my line of fire?”
“I was jumping in Etienne’s way, not yours.”
“He didn’t get the first shot off.”
“And I should know that how? He shot Gorman before I could move. I thought I was saving your butt.”
“If you wanted to save butts, why didn’t you drain that SOB’s energy the minute you got here?”
“Besides protecting Maggie, I wanted to get the truth. He confessed, Saber. And even if what he told us isn’t admissible in court, you have him for kidnapping and killing Gorman and attempted murder.”
“You’re almost right, Ms. Marinelli.” March’s voice rumbled from the steps.
Saber swung to face him, and I caught Fay in the window looking smug. Smug instead of angry? That had to be a first.
“We’ve got Fournier,” March continued, “on a whole list of charges including mul
tiple counts of attempted murder.”
“Attempted? Gorman’s alive?”
“He is for now, and I’d appreciate it, Saber, if you’d finish your chewing out somewhere else. Ms. Marinelli is bleeding, and my evidence techs need the space.”
“Of course, Detective March,” I said, head high.
Too bad I missed a step on the way off the porch and fell flat. I ruined a perfectly regal exit.
I could’ve sworn Fay laughed.
Flagler Hospital’s ER was hopping. My implant chip doc wasn’t on duty, but a guy who really did look a little like George Clooney was. I imagined comparing notes on him with Maggie. It kept me from brooding about Saber’s dark glances and thunderous silence.
Gorman was taken to a hospital near the interstate, and Etienne Fournier arrived by ambulance and under guard. Saber’s second shot had caught Etienne’s arm—a through and through. No bullet to dig out, but he needed stitches to close the tears and punctures on his neck. He babbled constantly in mixed French and English about the wild panther that had attacked him.
Maggie and I were also transported by the EMTs, and Saber followed. Maggie was diagnosed with mild shock and given an IV for dehydration. She didn’t call Neil, but Saber did. I don’t know what Saber said to Neil—or what Maggie said to him for that matter—but Neil bopped into my treatment room at one point. He joked and told me he’d take me surfboard shopping when Maggie and I were well. I nearly fell off the examination table.
Saber’s shot had hit my thigh, but it, too, had gone through the muscle and out again. Since the healing had begun, the doctor left it alone. My back was another story. The bullet had sheared across a rib and lodged in my side. Since it was evidence, it had to come out. I tried to take off my precious one-piece Regency gown myself, but the attending nurse slit it with scissors, avoiding the bullet holes, and handed it to a deputy as more evidence.
Saber stayed with me but didn’t stroke my legs through the procedure. He kept up the silent treatment until the doctor mentioned giving me a transfusion to speed the healing.
La Vida Vampire Page 24