by Marc Daniel
She slowly became aware of a voice inside her head. A voice she didn’t know. A voice urging her to get on the road and head west.
Chapter 61
The daughter he never had. Kewanee couldn’t get those words out of her head. Mostly because Biörn had a daughter. A daughter he’d abandoned without a second thought. A daughter he’d never met. Instead he preferred the filthy werewolf bitch over her. Michael Biörn wouldn’t get the father of the year award, that was for damn sure! But what was she to do? Confront him? Place him face to face with the past he’d so easily forgotten? That’s what her mother would have wanted, but Kewanee really didn’t feel like it.
How could he care for Olivia the way he did? She was the enemy… to them both. Like any Potawatomi, Kewanee had been taught the history of the lethal rivalry between the werewolves and her people.
Werewolves had arrived to Michigan from Canada with the French expedition led by Étienne Brûlé in 1622. And the wolves had quickly decided that the Potawatomi skinwalkers were rivals and needed to be dealt with. Dozens of her kin had fallen in battles against the werewolves, skinwalkers and humans alike, but in the end her people had prevailed.
The legend talked about a legendary bear-shifter of over 800 pounds. A formidable warrior who’d led her people to victory and chased the werewolves out of their territory for decades to come. Kewanee liked the story, although she knew it was a myth. Even the largest of skinwalkers would barely exceed 400 pounds in his bear form. An 800-pound bear would need to be a werebear and why would a werebear help out her people? If Biörn was any indication of what werebears were like, they’d be more likely to fight on the werewolf side. The man was a disgrace.
The skinwalkers’ natural enemies were the vampires, but the werewolves came in close second on that list. Close second, and potentially even more dangerous than the bloodsuckers themselves, since skinwalkers possessed no particular advantage over the nearly unkillable wolves.
Most skinwalkers would have no chance against a werewolf, but Kewanee wasn’t just any type of skinwalker. She was a grizzly shifter, probably the most powerful of all skinwalkers. And she was convinced she would have finished Olivia off the day before if her boyfriend hadn’t come to her rescue. This had been quite a shock to Kewanee. The wolf who’d come to Olivia’s defense had been a skinwalker like her. A Native American like her. Although a Shoshone, not a Potawatomi. But that made no difference. How could he betray his own people and fight side by side with a werewolf? The bitch had bewitched them all, that was the only possible explanation.
She’d seen Olivia act the part. She’d spent enough time close to the girl to witness her deceiving ways. The sweet little Olivia had everyone wrapped around her finger, but Kewanee wasn’t fooled. She’d been there the day Olivia had killed that sow in her cave. The day she’d left those two cubs to fend for themselves, robbed of their mother’s protection. Kewanee had been in her bear form when Olivia had come out of the cave. High on bloodlust, the werewolf had even nipped her. But the coward had fled when Kewanee’s bear had come after her.
Chapter 62
Michael, Sheila and Ezekiel were sitting on a bench near the central aisle of the Jardin des Tuileries, relaxing under the Parisian sun. The evening would be busy, but for now they had nothing else to do but wait and come up with a plan.
“Things have changed since the last time I was here,” said Michael, as a careless tourist bumped into him trying to find the best angle to take a selfie with the Louvre in the background.
Tourists were everywhere, taking pictures of the word-famous landmarks that drew millions of visitors to the French capital year after year.
“When were you here last?” asked Sheila.
“It must have been 1792, maybe 1791. Things get fuzzy after a while.”
“You haven’t been to Paris since?” Sheila sounded shocked.
“I have. But I meant in this particular park. The last time I was here, this didn’t exist,” he said, pointing to the northwest.
“The Obelisk?” said Sheila.
“I meant the Arc de Triomphe, but now that you mention it, the Obelisk wasn’t there either.”
“What were you doing here in 1792?” asked Sheila.
“By then, I was mostly trying to avoid getting my head chopped off. The guillotine didn’t get much rest in those days.”
Sheila finally connected the dots. “What? You were in Paris during the French Revolution?”
“Not through the whole thing, but I was definitely in France, yes. I spent almost the entire eighteenth century in this country.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That’s where I met this youngster,” said Ez, nodding towards Michael.
“How did you guys meet?”
“I saved his life, of course. He had a werewolf problem and I came to the rescue,” said Ez.
“Really? The wolves were already after you back then, Michael?”
“They were, but Ez’ way of presenting things is a bit misleading.”
“Misleading… Really?” asked Ez skeptically.
“No not really. Misleading isn’t the right word. Your statement actually was a blatant lie, but I was trying to be polite. You see, Sheila, by the time Ez showed up, the wolves were all dead. He did help disposing of the bodies, but his contribution was more akin to that of a glorified garbage man than a knight in shining armor.”
“I’ll make sure to remember this next time you need some help cleaning up your mess, Michael Biörn.” The wizard tried his best to look offended but wasn’t very convincing.
“And you became friends right away?” asked Sheila.
“Pretty much. I needed a place to stay and Ez had a house that could accommodate a few guests,” said Michael, remembering the small decrepit house. At least that was the way it looked from the street. Undistinguishable from any other houses in the neighborhood, except that inside it had looked like a Spanish hacienda large enough to host a family of thirty.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your tearful evocation of such fond memories, but we still need to discuss tonight’s plan,” said Ez.
Much to Michael’s dismay, Sheila’s cheerfulness vanished in an instant. This was the longest she’d appeared carefree since her sister’s death. But Ez was right. They needed a plan.
“The Fida’I’s leader is simply unapproachable in his mansion. It’s too well-protected,” started Ez.
“Even for you?” Sheila sounded surprised.
“I’m trying to keep a low profile here, my child. I can’t go and blast an entire building inside one of Paris’ most exclusive neighborhoods. That would be messy. Besides, it lacks class.”
“And if he possesses any type of magic, our man would have time to flee if it took us too long to get through the door,” added Michael.”
“So we need something more subtle. OK, I can see that. But why did you want to wait for tonight before acting, Ez?”
“Because every Wednesday night, our friend goes to a fancy Parisian club where he would be much easier to approach.”
“And today is Wednesday.”
“Indeed!”
“So we just go to the club, walk up to the guy and ask him some questions?” Michael was dubious.
“We can try that, but I had something else in mind, to tell you the truth,” said Ez.
“We’re listening.”
“Our man has a reputation. Apparently, he likes women of a certain type. And he goes to this club to find them and bring them home for the night.”
“And what’s his type of woman?” asked Sheila.
“I’m glad you ask. For once we are in luck. He has a thing for your type, Sheila. Attractive, petite women of Asian descent.”
“So you want me to play bait?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Absolutely not!” intervened Michael. “Sheila isn’t playing bait to attract a man we know nothing about other than he runs the most lethal killer-for-hire organization known to man.”
/> “I’m sure Ez has a plan, Michael. I’ll be safe as long as you two are with me.”
“Sheila’s right, Michael. She’ll be absolutely safe. Trust me.”
“I trust you, Ez, but Sheila’s not serving as bait. That's not negotiable.”
“You do realize I’m right here, Michael? And I’m old enough to decide what I should and shouldn’t do,” said Sheila emphatically.
Michael took a deep breath. He didn’t like where this discussion was heading.
“Sheila will be perfectly safe, Michael. You have my word. She will also be on her own through the whole thing, but this doesn’t change anything about my previous statement.”
Chapter 63
The vampire woke up at the crack of dawn. The motel was not only comfortable but all-expenses paid, since she’d used the money from the truck driver’s wallet to pay for it. Had she enjoyed killing the man? She couldn’t tell for certain. The feeding had given her such a high that she couldn’t have an unbiased opinion. Would she have enjoyed the feeding as much had it not been fatal to the wannabe rapist? She would never know.
She spent a few minutes freshening up. Vampires didn’t sweat, but one could still get dirty moving about in this filthy world.
The night had completely fallen by the time she stepped out of her West Yellowstone motel room, got in her car, and headed for the park’s west entrance. Although she could stand the light of day quite easily, she still preferred moving at night.
Come now!” said the voice in her head.
She’d heard it more and more frequently over the past twenty-four hours. It seemed to be getting increasingly temperamental too. It became more frustrated with each attempt at coercing her into following its instructions.
She’d never experienced anything like this before, and it scared her. Was she going insane? Was this the onset of schizophrenia? A schizophrenic vampire… For some reason, the thought made her smile.
“I am waiting for you.”
You’re going to wait a long time, because I’m not going anywhere, she thought. She had some unfinished business to attend to here. The bossy voice that might or might not have been a fruit of her imagination could just sit on it. What was it going to do? Drive her crazy? Clearly, she was already there.
The drive to Mammoth, home to the living quarters of the majority of the park’s employees, took her an hour. She was respectful of the speed limit. Now wasn’t the time to get pulled over. With her luck, it would be Michael Biörn himself whose lights would be flashing behind her car.
She arrived at her destination and parked in the lot reserved for residents. She could see the front door of Olivia’s dormitory from her parking spot. It was tempting to just walk in and be done with it, but she had no idea whether the skinwalker would be there and that would lead to problems. Even if she neutralized him, it would be messy. And messy wasn’t something she could afford at the moment. A pang of hunger at the pit of her stomach made her reconsider her approach with the skinwalker, but she chased the idea out of her mind. Even a nice bloody steak sounded good right now. Too bad vampires didn’t eat steaks.
She exited her car and cautiously walked around the area, surveying the vehicles parked in the vicinity of the building in search of the skinwalker’s car. It wasn’t anywhere to be found. She went back to sit and wait inside her vehicle. The benches surrounded by the resident elk that often slept near the buildings seemed more appealing, but she’d be too easy to spot. Nobody was likely to recognize her, but the skinwalker would likely make her out for what she was if he spotted her. It always came back to him. He was a problem she’d have to deal with.
She planned on waiting till eleven o’clock and would then make her way to Olivia’s room under the cover of darkness.
She’d been sitting in silence for an hour when the skinwalker’s car came to a stop in an empty slot four cars away from hers. This was too close for comfort. On the plus side, she now knew exactly where Olivia was and with whom. She instinctively crouched in her seat as they exited their vehicle and headed for a bench located fifty feet away under the porch that ran the entire length of the building.
She couldn’t take the chance of opening her window; the werewolf and skinwalker would hear it right away. Fortunately, she didn’t have to, as her hearing was exceedingly good. Much better than any human or even shifter.
“Thanks for dinner,” she heard the girl say.
“Anytime. Are you OK?”
There was a long pause before the woman answered, “I will be. Don’t worry about me. It’s just that I miss her. But I haven’t forgotten your lesson, Daka. I’ll live to make sure the bastards who killed Lucy pay for what they did.”
“That’s my girl,” she heard the skinwalker reply. She then witnessed him gently shoving the woman off balance: a move both casual and flirtatious at the same time. This wasn’t what the vampire had come here to do, and she less than enjoyed the delay caused by these platitudes.
“Talking about revenge, how do I go about it?”
“You follow my lead, Olivia. Killing vampires is what I do best. Vampires are seldom isolated. They usually live in large groups and, as far as I know, are always tied to one of the two main covenants.”
“I’m vaguely familiar with the Western Covenant, but what’s the other one?” asked Olivia.
“The most ancient one is called the Eastern Covenant. It’s located in Transylvania, a region of modern-day Romania. But my people never had to deal directly with it. Our pests almost always come straight out of the Western Covenant.”
“So you think the vampire we’re tracking is from the Western Covenant?”
“I’d be surprised otherwise. My guess is that he’s spying for Silvia. She left someone behind to be her eyes and ears.”
“So that’s one of those who killed Lucy?”
“Most likely explanation. The burnt truck still bugs me though.”
The conversation was starting to take an interesting turn. Maybe their idle chatting would prove more informative than she’d first imagined.
“You mean the lack of scent?”
“Yes,” confirmed the skinwalker. “If it weren’t for the lack of bloodsucker scent, I’d swear this was a vampire hit. The fire marshal already concluded it was arson and according to our sources in the State Troopers’ office, the burnt remains don’t show any sign of blunt trauma. All this matches perfectly with a vampire covering up a quick snack.”
“Like the car wrapped around the tree outside Bozeman?”
“Exactly. Except that in that case the vampire stench was so overwhelming, there was no possible doubt about the cover-up.”
“I know. Even I could tell it stank of vampire over there, and I’m no expert.”
So, they were onto her already… They hadn’t detected her odor at the rest stop, but knew a vampire had killed the trucker and set his eighteen-wheeler on fire. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t afford to have the skinwalker’s entire pack after her. She needed to finish what she’d come here to do and get the hell out of this place.
Chapter 64
“Comment t’appelles-tu?” asked a man nearly as big as Michael and who looked even less friendly.
“Je ne parle pas français,” she replied in a heavy American accent. Voices had to be raised in order to be heard over the club’s deafening music.
“I asked what your name was.” His transition from French to English was seamless. His accent was unplaceable in either language.
“Sheila.”
The dance floor was packed but she was the only Asian woman on it. As a matter of fact, there were very few Asian women in the club; Michael was doing a very thorough job out there. God only knew what he was telling those women to deter them from getting inside. Whatever it was, he was convincing. He still allowed a few of them through so things wouldn’t look too suspicious, but none of these women offered much competition to Sheila.
Ezekiel had easily convinced the two bouncers at the door that they act
ually had the night off and that Michael would be taking their place: a much more painless alternative to Michael convincing them himself.
“My boss would like to buy you a drink,” said the bodyguard, gesturing towards a couch in the VIP section of the club.
She considered the offer a moment for effect before accepting and following the bodyguard back to the booth.
The boss sat in the center of the couch with a blonde wearing what looked like sparkly underwear and nothing else sitting to his right. Sheila was invited to sit at his left and she obeyed.
“I like the way you dance, my lady. I couldn’t help but notice you out there.” He spoke in a low voice with a refined British accent. But the thing one immediately noticed were his eyes. They were a dark shade of purple and somehow it was doubtful this was due to colored contacts. What was he? No praeternatural on record had purple eyes.
“Thank you.” She blushed at the compliment.
“It’s the first time I see you here.”
“It’s the first time I’ve come. I’m here on vacation. I live in the States.”
“Fascinating,” replied the man, smiling, although he sounded anything but fascinated. “What would you like to drink? Is champagne all right with you?”
“That would be great.”
He ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon: a bottle which, in a club like this, would fetch north of a thousand euros.
In addition to the man who’d come to get her from the dance floor, there were two other bodyguards sitting on armchairs facing the couch where the boss was holding court.
The next hour was spent in idle chat and heavy drinking. The man’s hands were getting bolder with every glass of the bubbly nectar. Dom Perignon really was very good stuff.