by C. T. Adams
“Carol’s not here, Kate. I don’t know where she is.” Sadness and worry flowed through the phone line. If I knew Michael, anger would be next.
“Damn it, Michael! Are you telling me that Bryan’s been kidnapped?”
I slammed on the brakes just in time not to run a red light directly in front of a cop car. Pay attention, Reilly!
I could almost see Michael running fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Kate. I just don’t know. I made a call in the office. I was only gone a few minutes but when I came back, Bryan was gone and so was Carol. She only works half-days on Friday, but she said earlier that she was going to stay all day.”
I took a deep, steadying breath. If I opened my shields now, I could find him. I knew it. But I’d also might as well be lighting a homing beacon for the Thrall to find me. Damn, damn damn! To hell with it. I dropped my shields.
My mind’s eye searched the city, feeling for Bryan’s presence. I can’t really explain how I do it. It’s sort of like walking in a familiar dark room and knowing where each piece of furniture is. You have to feel around for them, but you know with absolute certainty they’re there. I groped in the darkness for my brother, but finding him was like catching a jumping frog. It took a few seconds of spreading my mind over the city, but I found him.
He was in a car. Carol was driving but had stopped. I might have gotten more had I not been distracted by the blaring of car horns. The light had changed and the cars behind me expected me to move. I pulled around the corner, pulling up to the curb in a no-parking zone. I tried to open my senses again, but came up against the smooth white wall of Monica’s shielding.
Shit!
“He’s with Carol.” I didn’t bother to explain how I knew, and Mike didn’t ask. “They’re in a car. Is there any legitimate reason for her to take him somewhere?”
Mike’s voice was flat and cold. “No.”
“Fine, give me Carol’s home address. I’ll head there first. Maybe she’s taking him there.” I didn’t think so, but it was a start.
He read me the information from her application, while I once again turned at a yellow light to head in the direction the address pointed me. I hung up the phone so that he could start to call in some of the church regulars to help search.
I reached the building in moments. It was only a few blocks away. Naturally, there was no parking on the street, but I didn’t have time for that now, anyway. I pulled into the alley next to the older brick building and turned off the ignition. Few vehicles other than a trash truck can move Edna out of the way. A brown and white dog behind a tattered chain link fence barked furiously at my intrusion. I opened the outer door and bolted up the stairs to Apartment 204. I heard sound behind the door, and pounded on the molded steel. “Carol, it’s Kate. I need to talk to you!”
A Hispanic woman holding a baby opened the door. “¿Que?”
The apartment behind her was furnished in early Salvation Army. Besides the young boy in the mother’s arms, there were two more at a table, eating dinner. The television was blaring the Spanish version of Sesame Street.
I wasn’t really good in Spanish in school, and I have to struggle to remember even the simplest of lines when I’m in any of the South American countries. I do a little better with understanding. “Hola. ¿Hables Ingles usted?”
She glanced down at my hand and shook her head. “No, Señorita.”
Great! Um . . . well, I can at least tell her I don’t speak Spanish very well. Then maybe she won’t start into a torrent that I won’t be able to follow. “Yo hablo mal el español.” She raised her head and then nodded in understanding. She waited patiently for me to come up with the next phrase while the baby pulled at her shining hair. I wanted to ask if she knew Carol, but I couldn’t think of quite the right words. Maybe—where is. Carol? “¿Dónde está Carol Rodgers?”
She shook her head with furrowed brows. “¿Quién? ¿Carol Roggers?” She shook her head a second time, and transferred the infant to her shoulder as he started to howl. “No. No está.” She pointed to herself. “Rosa Rodriguez. Aquí tienes mi casa.” She held up five fingers. “Ser de aquí cinco meses.”
Of course. Rosa and kiddies had lived in the apartment for five months. It was a fake address. Dear Lord, Michael. What’s happening to you? He must be getting desperate for help not to even, check out the woman’s application.
I nodded my head and likewise glanced at her hand. A simple gold band gleamed softly on her finger. I turned to go and apologized for bothering her. “Gracias, Señora Rodriguez. Lo lamento molestarle.”
“No para nada, Senorita.” She smiled as she shut the door. Well, at least I didn’t butcher the language enough to make her mad.
I took the steps back down three at a time. I didn’t even have to wonder about Carol’s motives now. She had Bryan and Monica was protecting her. Monica was breaking the rules again. I had no doubt she was planning to use Bryan as a hostage against me if I didn’t stop her. The only way I could was to get to Carol before she got back to the nest.
I tried to remember if anyone had ever told me where Monica had her headquarters. I knew she’d abandoned Larry’s old haunts, but had anyone told me? I wracked my brain as I doubled back to the church. I just didn’t know.
My only hope was that maybe one of the street people had seen something. I stopped when the next light turned red and checked my wallet. I only had about thirty bucks on me. Still, even a few bucks will loosen a lot of tongues down there.
I picked up my cell phone again and clicked the down arrow five times to come to the church phone number without even looking at the display. Knowing in which order I’ve saved the numbers really helps when I’m driving. I hit the send button. It didn’t even ring on my end before it was picked up.
“This is Father Michael!” His voice was two shades above panicked.
“It’s Kate, Mike. Have you heard anything?”
He sighed, and I could imagine him running his fingers through his hair once more. “Not a thing. Any luck with Carol?”
I hesitated. I wanted to spare him any additional anguish, but this wasn’t the time for it. I plowed on, trying to keep any hint of reprimand from my voice. “I got to the address, but someone else lived there. I’m on my way back to the church now to talk to some of the street people. Maybe we can get a lead if we’re both looking.”
His voice sounded tight and pained. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I’d never have imagined that she would use a fake address. My God in Heaven! What have I done?”
I tried to think of something to say that would console him, but it was a little difficult under the circumstances.
When I got back the church, Michael had already talked to the people around the church. Nobody saw anything. It was their story and they were sticking to it. Even money couldn’t pry information from them, so maybe they really didn’t know. Neither of us could find Joe to tell him. He either hadn’t taken his cell phone, or was out of range. I either couldn’t remember where the seminar was being held, or he hadn’t mentioned it. Mike finally insisted that I go home around eleven, because after that many hours, searching in the dark would do no good. We’d pick up the search again in the morning.
I only agreed to go because I knew what I had to do. I drove in to the parking garage, knowing that nobody would be waiting for me. Monica had the only thing she needed to bring me to her. I noticed lights on in Tom’s apartment as I drove in, and nearly took the stairs to knock on his door to just have someone to talk to. But I didn’t.
I called Joe on his cell phone. He answered on the first ring, and sounded panicked. Apparently, Mike had finally reached him.
“Kate! Thank God! Have you found Bryan?”
I closed my eyes and tried not to cry again. “Not yet. It got too dark. We couldn’t see anything in the alleys or side streets. We’re going to start again at dawn. But I need to ask you something.”
“Anything. I’m just packing up my things. I’m catching the first flight out th
at I can find. But the airport here in San Francisco is socked in, so I don’t know if it’ll be until morning. But I’m going to the airport anyway.”
Oh. I didn’t realize he was in California. I’d presumed the conference was local. A little bit of the overwhelming worry slipped into my voice. “Please don’t rush so much you get hurt, Joe.”
His voice was tense, but determined. “I won’t. I promise. What’s your question?”
“Tell me about werewolves.”
As an ER physician, Joe is required to treat anybody and anything that comes through those doors hurt. That includes the “furballs,” as the hospital staff less than affectionately refer to the lycanthropes. He might or might not have information, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
The outrage in his voice took me by surprise. “Werewolves! The vampires have Bryan and you’re worried about your love life?”
“Joe! This is about Bryan! It’s important!”
It was probably my tone that silenced him. I heard a shuffling sound and faint squeak that told me he’d sat down on the bed.
“All right.” He launched into a monologue that was probably going to make him miss at least one flight. He didn’t even ask any questions until he’d finished.
“Lycanthropy is a hereditary condition. It is not contagious in any form. Female lycanthropes are sterile. They protect the males. The pack system is matriarchal. Each pack recruits a human female to be the surrogate and give birth to the puppies for the pack.”
“A surrogate—” I thought about Jake’s words in the restaurant, and Tom’s in his apartment. “We’ve taken care of it” and “We can’t let her get hurt.” Was Dusty going to be a mommy? More importantly, who was the daddy?
Joe continued as if he hadn’t heard the interruption. Maybe he hadn’t. “The change is linked to adrenaline. Most of them have very little control over it. They get in a crisis situation and boom, dog time. It’s why the state won’t issue driver’s licenses to known lycanthropes.”
“That’s got to be a pain in the ass.”
“No doubt. Now tell me the truth. This isn’t about Tom, is it?”
“Nope. I’ve got a meeting with the local Acca tomorrow. It’s about Dusty. And they might know what’s going on with Bryan. They seem to have their ear to the ground in anything involving the Thrall. Thanks. That’s enough information for me to meet with the Acca.”
“Yeah, right. Talk to me, Kate.”
“Look, I don’t know much more than I did a couple of minutes ago. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll call you when I do.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I hung up the phone before he could press for more and went upstairs to try to get some sleep.
The bedroom was a mess from my frantic search for the brace earlier, so I spent a few minutes hanging and folding clothes, but that woke me up again. So I unpacked my suitcase and put a bag of laundry down in the truck to take to the dry cleaners. Nope. Still too wired to sleep. Well, maybe some food and warm milk.
I grabbed a pasty from the freezer and popped it in the microwave. The tantalizing smell told me that I was hungrier than I’d thought. I ate the first one while walking around the living room watering the plants and trimming the leaves that Joe had missed yesterday. I was too wired to sleep, and dreading what I knew I had to do.
The first tasted good enough that I treated myself to a second one. I took another pill and had to admit I was impressed with the little capsule that made the goose egg, and a possible concussion, completely go away
I sat down to start the real searching, the kind I couldn’t do with Mike around. He doesn’t like to believe that the stuff in my head is real. He knows it is, but he works hard to delude himself, so I try not to beat him over the head with the truth too hard.
I sat down in the recliner and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and opened my mind. I let it flow outward slowly; carefully. Perhaps the hive wouldn’t notice me if I moved slowly. But no such luck. I gasped when I suddenly heard my name in my own head. The buzzing grew louder and louder. The hive was angry; livid, but Monica was smug.
You know I have him, Kathleen. Surrender to me or I will bleed him out before you can find him. Come to us, Kathleen . . . come . . . COME!
I realized I was crying, because I knew she’d do it. I knew I wasn’t thinking rationally, because I started to wonder where I’d put my car keys and tried to remember where her lair was located.
I shook my head hard and tried to back out of the connection. It wouldn’t break. So I turned on the stereo and plugged in a loud rock CD. For the first time, it didn’t drown out her voice. My head started to pound and my wounds ached in response to the quickening of my heart.
Come to us, Kate. Be our queen . . . take care of us. Please don’t let us die.
I turned up the music, but the desperate chorus of voices grew louder in response. A hive of bees was nesting in my skull and I couldn’t make them stop! I shut my eyes and threw up shields. I sang old Celtic drinking songs, and played the CD louder and louder even after I felt vibration underfoot as Tom banged on his ceiling.
. . . we need you, Queen Kate. Help us.
I caught myself twice with the doorknob in my hand and tears in my eyes. Finally, I did the only thing I could think to do. I took a sleeping pill, even though I’d never used them before when the Thrall was actually trying to control me. It could work—but it might backfire and make me susceptible to the hypnotic, sing-song droning. I didn’t know how it would interact with the other medicine, and I doubted that Joe and Dr. MacDougal would approve. But I wasn’t sure I was going to win this battle in my current state. I had to get some sleep.
Warmth spread through my stomach in a few minutes and my arms started to feel heavy. I lay down on the bed and didn’t fight the fuzzy numbness as the drugs quieted the voices and the room faded away.
I felt the cool sheets caress my skin sensuously as Dylan whispered to me in my sleep.
I’m so proud of you, Katie. You’re strong and powerful and I’ve always loved that about you. We’ll be together again soon forever.
It made me happier than I could remember. I wanted so desperately for him to approve of me; to want me back. But wait—didn’t he used to hate that I was stronger than him? Didn’t he? I couldn’t remember. But I wanted so much to believe.
We’ll be together soon, Katydid. I want to touch you again; taste you. I want to be with you and hear you scream my name as I take you again and again. I need to touch you, taste you so bad . . . so very bad. Yes, Katie, let me taste you—
His low, frantic whispers prickled the hair on the back of my neck. I could feel his hunger and lust and need flow through me. A flutter of excitement quickened my heart as his teeth sunk in. The pain in his stomach washed away in a sweet, metallic rush. She wasn’t me, but it would be me so very soon. Part of me wanted to swim with him in that sensation, feel the climax overtake my body, but still I fought to get away.
This was wrong. This wasn’t Dylan. No, no, this can’t be the Dylan I knew. I struggled against the whispers, screamed again and again, but I couldn’t wake up.
We’re sending someone and Monica will be gone, and you’ll be mine again. Soon now. We’re sending someone—
My eyes flew open and I was that someone, stalking Monica in her own lair. She was asleep, surrounded by a bevy of Hosts, when I slid into the room. But I didn’t move like I would in real life. The attack on Monica was sudden and violent. Mind and body struck out in unison, but she was ready. I saw her face thin to almost skeletal. Her hiss was unearthly and inhuman. An answering blast of psychic energy hit the dream-me in the chest and knocked me back against a wrought-iron spiral staircase. The metal groaned and bent before the bolts sheared off and the whole works collapsed.
So they’ve sent you to replace me, have they? The words whispered and hissed through my brain even though her lips never moved. I tried to move, but was trapped in the crushed metal. You fool! Didn’t they learn
when I killed the last one? My children will live and they will be more powerful than you can ever imagine. I will not live to see it, but neither will you!
A blinding flash of white light and dark magic and pain that was like a stiletto to the heart: sudden and deadly. My eyes flew open on the bed and I realized through my pounding heart that it wasn’t me that Monica had been fighting. There was abrupt panic in my mind—a fear so strong that it took my breath away. They had been right . . . and so very wrong. The other queens had tried to control Monica by sending one of their strongest to eliminate her. But they had underestimated her. She was more powerful than they had imagined, and now they feared her. Even at the bare ends of her life, she was stronger than the strongest of them.
What in the hell was I going to do?
14
Dawn arrived steeped in dreary mist. I yawned wide and long, but it didn’t help to clear my fear that still pounded in my heart and flowed through my veins. Sleeping pills always make me feel wooden and fuzzy the next day, but I supposed it was better than terrified. A shower helped a little bit, but it took two cups of coffee before I could think well enough to put up my mental shields.
I was just picking up my keys when I heard a knock on the door. I risked a quick psychic search, but all I found was a blank wall of sizzling energy. It wasn’t Thrall, but what was on the other side of the door?
I grabbed both knives in one hand and walked to the door. “Who is it?”
“A name from your past and perhaps an ally to ensure your future.” The voice was soft, female, and alto. She did sound familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
Opening the door always puts me at a disadvantage, especially now that my shoulder hurt. I unlocked the deadbolt and stepped back to give myself room to move.
“It’s open. Come in.”
The door swung open easily, as though it was tissue paper, which was my first hint. The minute I saw the woman I started abruptly. I recognized her. We’d played softball together in high school.
Mary Connolly had always been a bit butch. Short and stocky with golden-brown eyes and naturally black hair that she kept just a little bit shorter than any of the other girls in school. It never occurred to me at the time that she might be a wolf, but as soon as she walked through the door, I just knew.