by S. J. Harper
“And if that never happens?”
“We just focus on the case, then the next one, then the one after that. We go on living our quiet little lives,” he says, echoing my words from two nights ago. His eyes flicker away and he nods toward the kitchen. “Think those pancakes are still warm? I’m starved.”
The change of subject is like whiplash to my brain. I don’t know whether to feel relieved, disappointed, or irritated. In fact, I feel them all. I jump up from the table, glad for a chance to hide my face from Zack’s intent gaze. Aren’t I the one who just pointed out how impossible a relationship would be? And did he not react not only like a professional, but like a gentleman?
Isn’t that what I wanted?
Yes, but did he have to agree to back off so quickly? Did he have no other questions for me about my nature? I just told him something few other people in the whole world know. Even Liz had more questions when she first met me, and she’d known and been taught about me.
When I turn back around, pancakes in hand, I study Zack closely, looking for a sign of deception—some inkling that this is all part of a manipulation. I see none. The damned Were has me in knots. I place the dish of pancakes on the table, avoiding Zack’s eyes.
Before I have a chance to serve myself, my cell rings. I check the caller ID. It’s Liz. She’s crying into the phone and it takes me a moment to get her calmed down enough to understand why she is so upset.
“Evan didn’t come home last night. And he didn’t show for his early-morning hearing. I’ve tried every spell I can think of to try to locate him. Nothing works. It’s not absolute death, Emma. He hasn’t been released. I can tell. He’s just . . . gone.”
CHAPTER 14
As soon as I disconnect, Zack is standing beside me.
“That sounded serious. Liz is the friend you were talking to the other night? The one with the guy who is ready to make a commitment?”
“The one with a vampire who is ready to make a commitment. Another vampire who’s missing. Zack, I went back to Amy Patterson’s after you left last night. I found traces of blood in the glasses in her dishwasher. She’s a vampire. Isabella, Amy, now Evan? I have to go.” I’m already on the move, snatching up purse and keys.
Zack raises his eyebrows, then moves to block my way. “I’m going with you. Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
“Make it three.”
He’s on his way upstairs before the words leave my lips.
I lean against the kitchen counter. Liz’s skill at casting spells is legendary in the witch community. If she can’t locate Evan, there must be powerful magic working against her. If Evan’s disappearance is related to Amy’s and Isabella’s, and supernatural elements are involved, the case just became infinitely more complicated.
Zack bounds down the steps. I told him to take three minutes; he’s taken just shy of four. I don’t know how he did it, but his hair is combed, his tie knotted, his suit coat in his hand. “Let’s go.”
On the way over, I give Zack a quick rundown on who and what Liz is—my best friend and one of the most powerful witches west of the Rockies. He has two questions for me. “Does she know what you are?” And “How did the two of you get together?”
I feel as if I’ve revealed more than enough for one day, for a lifetime. So I answer yes, she knows I’m a Siren, but edit out the details of the two spells Liz works for me—the reverse glamour to hide my true appearance and the dampening spell to diminish my innate powers of seduction. As for his second question, I choose my words carefully and go for the simple truth.
“I knew her grandparents, powerful witches in themselves. They raised Liz when her own parents were killed. She’s a magical mercenary of sorts, selling her services to a variety of individuals. I needed her help with—a personal problem—several years ago. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
Sounds reasonable. No need for Zack to know the “several years” was really “a couple of decades” or that she also happens to be my touchstone when it comes to keeping my heart in line.
At Evan’s, I pull into the same guest spot I occupied yesterday and lead Zack to the condo. Liz pulls the door open before I have a chance to ring. “Thank the gods you’re here.”
She pulls me in, barely acknowledging Zack in her panic.
Zack, however, definitely acknowledges her. I forget how beautiful Liz is until I see her reflected in the eyes of others. Zack’s breath literally catches in his throat. And why shouldn’t it? Liz is five feet seven inches of stunning. Her long hair is a cascade of dark waves that sets off her almond eyes. She’s barefoot, dressed in jeans and a men’s dress shirt, probably one of Evan’s, with the sleeves rolled up. She manages to make this casual outfit look elegant enough for Vogue. Only the dark smudges under her eyes and worry lines pulling at the corner of her mouth mar the image.
There are other indications of her distraction. I know how Liz’s mind works. If she wasn’t so worried about Evan, she’d be interrogating Zack and peppering me with embarrassing questions. Her cool, appraising glance and the way she turns away from Zack after the briefest of handshakes say it all. Her attention is focused on Evan.
“This isn’t like him, Emma.” Liz leads us into the living room. “Not showing for a hearing? It isn’t like him at all.”
Liz and I take seats side by side on the couch, Zack across from us in an armchair.
I take Liz’s hand. “Tell me about the last time you heard from him.”
Liz bites at her lower lip. “The text I told you about last night. It said he was going to be late at the office. Preparing for an important hearing this morning. When I woke up and he wasn’t home, I didn’t worry. I knew he kept clothes at work for just this sort of thing—all-nighters followed by court. It’s happened before.”
She leans toward me. “But this morning, Sid, his assistant, called because Evan missed his court appearance. They had worked together until around midnight. After they’d finished, Sid said he asked Evan if he wanted to stop for a nightcap. There’s a bar right down the street they go to. But Evan begged off. He said he had a quick note to make and then he’d be heading straight home. They were supposed to meet at the courthouse this morning. When Evan didn’t show, Sid got a postponement, then called me to find out what happened. That’s when I knew something was wrong and tried to locate Evan myself.”
She gives Zack a fleeting look and whispers, “Does he know—?”
“That you’re a witch? Yes.”
“I’ve called all our friends. I’ve worked every locator spell I can think of. What comes up has me crazy. A void. He’s yet to be released to absolute death. It’s something worse. It feels as if he’s trapped—on an alternative plane, or that he’s in some kind of altered state. It’s different than simple sleep or unconsciousness. It’s dark, menacing.”
She looks again at Zack, this time with trepidation, as if expecting him to make a comment about how fantastical this sounds. For the moment at least, she’s forgotten that fantastical applies to each of us in this room.
Zack, however, has his eyes on the coffee table. He leans forward and picks up a flyer lying there. “What’s this?”
Liz glances at the brochure in his hand, shrugs. “It’s a program for tonight’s benefit.” She looks at me. “The same one you have tickets for.”
Zack is studying the logo. “Green Leaf. Where have I seen that name?” He opens the program and in the space of a heartbeat, he looks at me with grim seriousness. “Guess who’s on Green Leaf’s board of directors.”
He turns the page around so I can read the name he has his finger perched above. “Dr. Alexander Barakov.”
“Who’s that?” Liz asks.
I have to keep the eagerness out of my voice when I answer her. “Someone Zack and I recently interviewed. Evidently he’s on the Green Leaf board of directors. Has Evan ever mentioned him?”
I’m perusing the program. Michael Dexter’s name is listed as a participating artist in the charity auction. Is that the piece he was working on the day before yesterday? No wonder he mentioned a deadline.
“Would you mind calling Evan’s office to see if Dr. Barakov is a client, too?” I ask Liz, wanting a few moments alone with Zack.
“Sure.” Liz stands up “My cell is in the kitchen.”
When she’s gone, I lean toward Zack. “Another vampire gone with a connection to Barakov?”
“When we get back to the office, I’ll check the financial records for Amy and Isabella.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe Barakov isn’t the connection. Maybe this foundation is.”
Liz is back in a minute. She’s carrying a garment bag. Her face reflects the anxiety and fear that’s been racking her mind. “No Barakov on the client list,” she says. “No word from Evan.”
She tosses her cell phone on the couch, passes the garment bag from her left hand to the right.
I rise to give her a hug. “We’ll find him. We have a few things we need to check at the office. Will you be all right here alone?”
Liz steps reluctantly out of my arms. “Yes. Why did you have me check on Barakov?”
I don’t want to alarm Liz, but I don’t want to lie to her, either. “Barakov has been a common denominator in a couple missing persons’ cases. But we don’t have anything solid.”
“He’s connected to Green Leaf, and Evan has connections to Green Leaf. You think this Barakov might have done something to Evan?”
The edge in her voice is razor sharp. The last thing we need is a pissed-off witch going after the wrong guy. Zack realizes that, too, and reacts quickly. “I think we need to give Emma a few minutes alone with him so she can find out. He’ll be at the party.”
Liz peers at me, tossing her head in Zack’s direction. “He knows about you, too?”
I nod.
She frowns. That he knows my true nature, and that he could only know it if I told him, makes our connection too intimate for her approval.
The atmosphere in the room becomes stiflingly oppressive.
Zack feels the tension between Liz and me and, once again, breaks the silence. “Let’s not forget it’s possible there’s another explanation for why you can’t locate Evan. You already mentioned an alternative reality. What else could interfere with your scrying?”
“You mean like a shield of some sort?” Liz suggests.
“Any way for you to determine if that’s what’s blocking you?” he asks.
I can see her wheels turning. Zack has given her something to focus on besides me . . . or Barakov. Something that not only will keep her busy, but could be a huge help.
“Maybe. A shield that strong would take a lot of energy. I’ll keep trying my locator spells and start looking for pockets of unusual power.” She glances down at the garment bag as if just remembering it. “Take this, before I forget.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see when you get home. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
When she passes the bag to me, there’s a rustle of fabric. This must be the dress Liz mentioned I could borrow. This is so Liz. Her world could be falling apart and she’s thinking about what I’m going to wear to the party.
“I won’t go if you want me to stay here with you,” I tell her, pushing the bag away.
“No.” Her reply is quick, adamant. “My place is here. But you go. If anyone at Green Leaf is in any way involved in Evan’s disappearance, you can find out.” The look she sends me telegraphs that she knows I can find out, that she expects me to do whatever it takes, that she’s certain I will.
“Should I call the police?” she asks then.
“Wait a little while longer,” Zack says. “We’re doing everything possible right now. Let’s see how things play out and keep one another posted.”
She sighs and walks us to the door. Zack goes ahead and I pause to give Liz one last hug.
She pulls away. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She turns back to the coffee table and slips a piece of paper out of a folder lying there. “A list of Blood Emporiums.”
I glance at it. “Looks pretty complete. Who’s your source?”
She shrugs. “A longtime client. He circled the one in the Gaslamp, the one he thought you might be interested in.” Her mouth twists in a weary frown. “Ironic, isn’t it, Emma? Yesterday I wasn’t sure how I felt about Evan. Today I’d give my life to see him back home safe. With me.”
I smile and touch her cheek. “He will be. And the good news is now you know. You have your answer.”
• • •
I toss the garment bag into the backseat of the car. I can wait until I get home to see the dress. It’s the piece of paper Liz handed me that has my attention—a computer-generated list of all of San Diego’s Blood Emporiums with the names of each one’s cover business and address.
“Check this out.” I hold up the paper so Zack can see.
“Wicked Ink?” It’s circled in red. The address is around Fifth and J Street.
“Michael Dexter found a receipt dated the day Isabella disappeared. He said she used to pick up her blood supply from a Blood Emporium in the Gaslamp. I think this might be it.”
Zack gives the list a quick once-over. “This looks like a list of all of the Emporiums in San Diego County. Information like this isn’t easy for an outsider to come by. Where did Liz get it?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. A friend of Evan’s maybe? But I think it’s worth paying this Wicked Ink a visit. Someone there might have been the last person to see Isabella before she disappeared.”
Zack’s expression clouds over with worry.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him.
“Some of the old guard have been targeting the Emporiums. They aren’t happy with the number of vampires who are mainstreaming. They fear it’s a sign the culture is collapsing.”
“But they’ve been sanctioned by those in power, right?”
“That’s the case here in the West. My understanding is that there’s quite a bit of dissension between the four American sovereigns. The new Southern king is vehemently opposed. He’s been spewing all sorts of new rhetoric. Or should I say old rhetoric? He wants the Emporiums shut down.”
I haven’t kept up with vampire politics. “I didn’t even know there was a new Southern king. When did this happen?”
“Eight, maybe nine months ago. He started by levying outrageous taxes, driving up the price of blood in his territory until it’s practically unaffordable, both for those buying and selling. There’s a huge propaganda machine behind the movement. The Emporiums are like a lifeline to mainstreamed vampires. They’re what allow them to function and integrate into society. Shutting down the Emporiums would have the same impact on vampires that shutting down every grocery store would have on humans.”
“Then why on earth is the Southern king doing it?”
“Because it’s more difficult to oppressively rule people who are independent. He talks about giving control back to the vampires. Of supporting their taking what’s rightfully theirs instead of lining the pockets of the elite few and kowtowing to humans. I think what he’s really after is a return to the old ways. Some of the zealots have started to move into other territories. I’ve heard reports that Emporiums in New Mexico and Arizona have been torched. I’ve even heard they’ve gone so far as to kidnap and torture patrons. It seems they might be working their way west.”
“Like here? Southern California? Do you think that’s why we have three missing vampires?”
Zack shrugs. “It’s something else to check out.”
And something else to complicate an already complicated case. I glanc
e at Zack. “How do you know so much about it?”
Zack avoids my eyes. “My former pack has close ties with the Southern king.”
“One of the reasons you parted ways?” I ask.
I get a curt nod. Then he closes down. I see it in the set of his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. He starts the car and pulls onto the street.
I clear my throat. “Hate crimes against vampires by other vampires. What’s next?”
If Zack has an answer to that question, he keeps it to himself. We decide to split up. I’ll go to the Blood Emporium alone and Zack will go back to the office to take a second look at Amy’s and Isabella’s financial records. When we looked the first time, we were searching for evidence that the two women were patients of Dr. Barakov. This time he’s going to look for contributions to Green Leaf.
Soon I’m on my way to Wicked Ink. The first order of business will be to see if I can persuade anyone to acknowledge that an Emporium’s housed there. If I get that far, I’ll ask to speak to someone in charge. For obvious reasons, getting a warrant is out of the question. This is going to be up to me and my powers of persuasion.
Parking in the Gaslamp District is always a hassle. There’s a road crew working on Fifth Avenue, which makes the predictably busy traffic even worse. I’ve been moving at a snail’s pace but making progress. Until now.
Now I find myself stuck behind a black sedan that’s decided to stop right in front of my destination—Wicked Ink. It’s just large enough so that it blocks the lane, has tinted windows all around like so many others these days, much like the one I saw at Evan’s place this morning. The light up ahead changes, but it still doesn’t move. I honk. The driver gets out.
“I’ll be damned.”
It isn’t like the car I saw at Evan’s. It is the car I saw at Evan’s. The driver glances back at me, not with the slightest hint of apology or even curiosity. His eyes flick my way; then he turns his back on me and holds open the rear door. The passenger gets out and heads inside. Again, there is a distinct moment of hesitation on his part. But he doesn’t look back. I can’t see his face. Is he the one who gave Liz the list I have in my pocket? If I can convince him to talk to me, he might have information about Isabella. He might even have a sense about whether the conflicts Zack mentioned have anything to do with the disappearances of Amy, Isabella, or Evan. They were all mainstreamed. Could it be they were all getting their blood here? Are they targets of the faction who wish to see the Emporiums closed?