Their affair had been brief, passionate, and nothing but a lie from the very beginning. She'd come dangerously close to falling for him completely, losing herself in his illusionary reality, before a single female Fed, in a moment of sympathy, had come to her and told her everything. Including the fact that Dirk was not only still in the game, he was interested in using her position as a police officer to make things easier for him. She'd been barely out of the academy at that point, still a young uniform with more good intentions than good sense.
She'd dumped him on his cute ass and told him, in no uncertain terms, that if she saw him again she'd do her damnedest to make him regret ever meeting her. And she'd meant it with every breath in her body.
He'd disappeared soon after. That same Fed had called her later and explained that they'd been forced to relocate him again. His own actions had drawn far too much attention to him and, had he been left in place, he would've been mowed down like a weed left too long on someone's front lawn.
Which was fine with her.
Of course, that was scant weeks before she'd discovered herself pregnant with Cory. She'd suffered the insults, the insinuations, and the censure of some of the less tolerant townsfolk, but, thankfully, had been able to rely her brother and sister-in-law for moral and financial support. Even though they themselves had a young child, they had good enough jobs to make ends meet and help her out, too.
She'd been lucky. She knew it. She'd almost lost her badge anyway. It was only through the efforts of a new detective hired from the bay area that she wasn't summarily dismissed for what they considered, at the time, to be “immoral actions not befitting a police officer” or some such shit.
Detective Bigby had fought for her, saying that it would be a “damn shame for a officer with as much potential as she showed to be thrown out for making a mistake damn near anyone could make."
She wasn't sure she agreed with the “damn near anyone could make” part, but she appreciated the fact that he stood by her.
Now, some sixteen years later, she herself was a detective under Chief Bigby and the son she'd fought tooth and nail to have and keep was—in all probability—undead.
Yep. Life was weird sometimes.
Seven
Sunday morning.
It was supposed to be her day off, but right now a day off was a luxury no one on the force could afford. Least of all, me. Rachel sat at her desk, pouring over a stack of reports that seemed to be growing all on its own. She glanced up as the Sergeant Shelana Gibbons, a sweet-voiced African-American woman who, given enough time and experience, would eventually make a great detective in her own right, slid her ample frame around the cubicle wall.
"Detective—I've got another missing persons report."
"Figures. Well, throw it on the pile with the rest."
Gibbons winced as she was suddenly shoved aside. Standing beside her, literally in her shadow, was a tiny young woman that, on first glance, looked about twelve. She stood maybe five feet tall, with long auburn hair waving wildly about her shoulders and a pretty, fox-like face currently framing sparking green eyes partially hidden behind square, wire-rimmed glasses.
"Has it ever occurred to you, Detective, that the fact that you're dealing with so many missing persons cases at once might be indicative of a far more serious problem?"
"Ya think?” Rachel let just a hint of her frustration surface. “So who the hell are you, anyway? And who's missing this time?"
"My name is Amanda Keening. My mother and half-brother are missing."
"Keening? As in Gina and Jason?” She shot a nod at Gibbons, a silent indicator that it would be all right if she disappeared. Gibbons offered her a sympathetic glance and walked away.
"Damn. Good guess. So I take it their names are somewhere in that pile already?"
"Uh ... not that I've seen, though your brother's name popped up in another kind of report."
"Really?” Amanda's brows shot up. “What kind is that?"
"He had a run-in with another kid at the bowling alley last night. Tossed a star running-back through a truck windshield."
"Jason? He's about as big as a gnat's kneecap,” she said incredulously.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. He's a friend of my son. Who was one of the first ones gone missing, by the way."
"Oh.” Amanda blinked. “Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"
"—to come across as a pushy, thoughtless, teenager? It's okay."
"I'm not a teenager,” Amanda told her coolly. “Hard to believe, isn't it?"
Rachel gave her the once-over for the second time. The fact that she was barely five feet tall and probably bought her clothes out of the Junior department didn't make her the pre-teen she resembled. “No offense, but ... yeah.” She was far too self-assured to be a kid, though, any way you cut it.
Not hard to believe she's Gina's girl. Like most of the cops in town, she knew Gina pretty well. The Firehouse wasn't precisely a cop hangout, but a good number of them found reasons to visit the place off-shift. For the male cops it was probably as much because Gina was as nice looking as she was nice to be around. For the few women on the Redburn police force, it was most likely because Gina always treated them like they were something special. They didn't get a lot of that.
Though Jason was something of dork, she definitely approved of him as a friend for Cory far more than she approved of Ben Davis. Some of it was because Ben was a pothead, but some of it was because his parents were too fanatical to believe their son could be doing anything that bad. Made it awfully tough to do anything about his problem. And, in her mind, Ben definitely had a problem.
How in the hell does he afford it? she wondered, not for the first time. As far as she knew, the kid always had pot. Was he dealing?
She'd always doubted it simply because he wasn't popular enough with even the stoner crowd. Bah. I'm asking the wrong questions about the wrong thing at the wrong time. She stood, stretching aching muscles. “What do you say we take a drive out to your mom's house?"
"That's why I'm here. I've been trying to get a hold of someone there since Wednesday. I caught the news about what's been going on in this pristine little slice of hell, so I figured I'd better haul my ass down here and check it out. But I'm not stupid enough to wander into what might be a crime scene without a professional on hand."
Smart. Rachel was impressed. Not many people in her position would've had the forethought to come to the police first. “Since you're standing in front of me, and I need a break from all this paperwork anyway, why not?"
"Why not indeed?"
* * * *
"What kind of name is Keening, anyway?” Rachel asked, just to make conversation on the drive.
Amanda turned a oddly patronizing look in her direction. “It's a bastardization of a Welsh word, usually spelled C-Y-N-I-N-G. I think it translates to ‘King'."
"Interesting,” Rachel said, meaning it. She had some interest in Celtic culture because of her own familial background, though her knowledge of it was spare, at best.
Amanda responded with a tight smile, staring out at the scenery whipping by outside the Blazer for a long moment, then sighing. “This is a beautiful area. Austere, but beautiful."
"I've always thought so,” Rachel murmured. “I know Cory loves ... loved—crap, I don't know what tense to use."
She glanced over to find Amanda staring at her oddly. “How long has he been missing?"
"Since last Saturday night,” she answered. “You're wondering how I can be so calm about it now, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah."
"Let's just say I have reason to believe he's okay. And—you might think this is weird, but bear with me—because Jason is a friend of his, and I know he thinks a lot of your mother—” maybe a little too much, she thought with a mental chuckle, “—I'm pretty sure they're okay, too."
"You know something, don't you?"
"Know?” Rachel frowned. “Probably not the right word. Let's just say I suspect somethin
g."
"What?"
How much should I tell this girl? Shit. I'm just guessing myself. Jason's little demonstration with Marc Weaver last night, and the fact that neither of them fit the normal profile for the “vampire killer's” victims, are enough to make me believe that their house is where Cory's been hiding out. “Bear with me a minute, will you? Tell me a little about yourself."
"What's to tell?” Amanda blew out a long breath. “Well ... I grew up with my father. Mom was flitting all over the world after she had me—doing the modeling thing. Dad fought her for custody and won, but that's more because Dad had the best lawyers money could buy, not because Mom wasn't up to the job.
"I grew up outside of Seattle, went to private schools until I was fourteen, then went to a normal high school. My dad died when I was seventeen, two months before graduation. Our relationship was strained at that point, but I still loved him enough to be shocked and beaten down by it. Cost me a grade point.
"My grandfather took me in. Believe me, two months in that situation was enough for me. Grandfather is richer than God and twice as old. Crazy as a whole flock of loons. He thinks he's some kind of medieval king—actually tried to marry me off to some Japanese nanotech magnate to seal some sort of deal. When I turned eighteen I walked out of his house and never looked back. He disowned me, of course, but also didn't realize that Mom had set up a trust fund so I could go to school wherever I wanted.
"I chose to go to Thorne Academy, in Tacoma. It's a rather specialized school, subsidized by Shea Industries and closely allied with the Paranormal Affairs Commission. When I graduate I'm going to owe four years of my life to civil service—to be served under the authority of the Department of Homeland Security.
"Is that enough?"
Rachel stared at her in something akin to shock. She'd asked for a little and got just about everything. But the information about the PAC was enough to convince her that she could share what little she knew with the girl. It also explained a little about her self-assurance. A school ran under PAC auspices wouldn't admit just anyone, after all.
"Our vampire killer is a real vampire. But that's only part of the story. I think we've been thrown into some sort of war between rival vampires. I think my son has been turned to help fight this war—hopefully by the one who's opposing the killer. It may be—"
"—you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” Amanda's jaw clenched and her emerald eyes spit fire. “You're telling me you think your son has turned my mother and brother into vampires?"
"Maybe ... so you believe in vampires, then?"
"Hard not to. One of the instructors at the Academy is a vampire. The first vampire, from what I understand."
"That would be Renee Fontaine?"
Amanda's jaw dropped. “How do you know—"
"A man named Gavin Chase."
"Dr. Chase? He's here?"
"Somewhere. I take it you know him."
"Well, yeah. He was one of the instructors at the Academy. A brilliant guy—sexy, too. His wife and infant son disappeared late last year and he left soon after."
"Wife and ... son?” Rachel stared at her for a long moment, then felt a blush come to her cheeks. What was he doing here? “He taught at your school, did he? Sounds like quite a place."
Amanda gave her a sly smile. “You have no idea."
Rachel cut off the main road and took a twisting gravel lane into a small subdivision nestled at the very edge of the BLM lands. A moment later she pulled up to the yellow and gray manufactured home where Gina and Jason lived.
A green Dodge Neon sat in the driveway. “Well, doesn't look like they went anywhere,” she observed. As she killed the engine a familiar blond-headed figure came around the house and trotted toward them.
Amanda stiffened but relaxed a little when Rachel laid a hand on her arm. “It's okay,” she said. “I know this kid."
She opened the door and stepped out as Ben approached. “They're not here,” he said. “But they were."
* * * *
Five minutes later the three of them were inside, prowling around the house. Ben watched Amanda warily, but not half as warily as he watched Rachel herself. Something had changed about the boy—something other than the fact that he wasn't currently stoned. That in itself was notable, but hardly a reason for him to be acting so strangely.
"Looks normal enough,” the young woman commented, coming out of a room Rachel could only assume was Gina's. “No sign of any foul play or anything out of place."
Rachel nodded absently, returning to the living room. She poked through the DVDs and CDs laying out on the coffee table and smiled grimly. “I would hope that your mother wasn't watching this with them,” she said, holding up a DVD case covered in explicit images of men and women engaged in various sexual activities.
Ben glanced over from where he'd collapsed on the couch and blushed furiously, deliberately avoiding their gazes.
Amanda gave the DVD case a quick look and snorted. “I seriously doubt it. Makes me wonder if Mom was even here."
"She was here all right,” Ben murmured. “Just not ... here."
They both shot him a questioning look, to which he simply shrugged. “If you don't already know what's going on, I'm not sure it'll do any good for me to tell you. You'd never believe me."
"Try us,” Amanda replied tersely.
Ben winced, sighed, then leaned forward on the sofa. “Cory's a vampire,” he said, with only a second's hesitation. “I'm pretty sure Jason is, too. Now. Your mother,” he told Amanda, “is probably next."
He swallowed visibly and Rachel realized he was trying to hold back tears. “The fourth night after he disappeared he came to my house and I let him in through the window. He tried to explain what had happened to him and I chased him away. Maybe it was wrong, but I just wasn't ready to deal with it. I've been fighting with myself ever since. If vampires exist, how could they be anything but evil?” he asked Rachel directly.
"Do you think Cory's evil, Ben?"
"He saved my life last night,” Ben answered with the slightest of shrugs. He rubbed at his eyes with splayed fingers and gave a sigh that came out very close to a moan. “I tried to kill him the day after he showed up at my place,” he told them. “I guessed he'd go back to your house and hide in the basement. So I got myself a stake and a hammer and went looking for him.
"He had this big wolf-dog guarding him. It tore me up pretty good and guarded me the rest of the day until night came and Cory woke up. He gave me this look—like he was disappointed in me—and let me go.
"He's never tried to hurt me, even though I was going to kill him, if I could. Last night this other vampire, this woman, grabbed me from home. Don't ever let anyone tell you they need to be invited in. They don't.
"She snatched me and dragged me out to intercept Cory and Jason on the road. They were—Jason was—driving your mom's car. She forced them to stop and threatened them, then, when they wouldn't just roll over for her, she bit me.” He rubbed at the side of his neck as if reliving the moment.
"I thought I was a goner. But she spat out my blood, said it tasted like dog. She was going to kill me anyway but ... well ... something happened. I changed."
"Changed how?” Rachel asked, frowning.
"I don't know how,” he snapped. “Christ ... One minute I'm the old me, the next I'm a big hairy freakin’ werewolf."
"A werewolf?” Amanda gaped at him.
Rachel blinked, then shrugged. Sure. Why not? If I can believe in vampires, werewolves aren't that much of a stretch.
Amanda held up her hand. “Okay. Now that's one strange revelation too many. I'm barely keeping my head above water here. I need to make a phone call.” She dug a cell phone out of her denim jacket and hurriedly dialed. “Tacoma, Washington. Shea Industries."
She snatched a piece of paper and a pen from the desk across the room. She dialed another number as she paced the length of the floor between the coffee table and the front door.
"Yes, I'd like to
speak to Athena Cross, please. No. I understand, but please tell her this is Amanda Keening-Grey, Thomas Grey's granddaughter. Yes. I'll hold.” She fidgeted for a long moment then seemed to relax slightly, even as her expression grew even more serious.
"Ms. Cross? I'm really sorry to bother you, but I didn't know who else to call. Yes, ma'am. I'm a second year student at the Academy, getting ready to graduate this June. Right. Magical Studies. Exactly. Well, Ms. Cross—okay, Athena—I'm in Central Oregon at the moment. I was forced to take a leave of absence because my mother and half-brother have gone missing. Or, rather, I thought they'd gone missing. Actually, they might just be vampires and thus weren't able to answer the phone in the middle of the day when I called. Who'd a thunk it?” She laughed at something said at the other end.
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. Athena. I'm at my mother's house right now with a local police detective named Flynn. She seems competent enough. Her son might also be one of the vampires. No, we don't think they're directly involved with what's going on here. Right. Yes, ma'am.” She winced. “Right. Athena. Sorry."
She held the phone out toward Rachel. “She wants to talk to you."
"Is that—?"
"Athena Cross, Chairman and CEO of Shea Industries, Chair of the Paranormal Affairs Commission? Sure is."
Crap. Rachel took the phone. “Hello?"
"Detective Flynn. Athena here.” The voice was husky for a woman, though still distinctly female. The kind of voice that set men to drooling, for some strange reason. She'd never been able to understand that. Whisky-rough, she'd heard it called.
"Sounds like you've got quite a situation down there."
"You could say that,” Rachel admitted.
"This couldn't be better timing for Miss Keening-Grey, actually. The only thing she had left to do before graduation was a field operation under the supervision of a professional. Ordinarily it would be one of ours, but we just can't spare anyone right now, so I guess you'll have to do."
"Why, thank you,” Rachel said sardonically. Babysitting detail. Wonderful.
The woman chuckled. “I'm sending her provisional identification as a Federal Agent under PAC authority, plus a few other things she's going to need. What I need you to do is keep her on the right side of the line. She's young and, as such, will be prone to getting a little ahead of herself. Under no circumstances is she to violate the standing articles of the Constitution, nor is she to act in any manner that would reflect badly on the Federal Government. She is, as of this moment, a duly authorized representative of the Department of Homeland Security. We expect her to act accordingly, and we expect you to do everything in your power to make sure she does ... Is that clear?"
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