Читать книгу Keeper of the Dawn - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 8

“Seriously,” Sailor Gryffald said, “what were you thinking, Alessande?” Sailor continued to pace while Alessande sat.

After a stop at the police station, Brodie and Mark had dropped Alessande off with Sailor and had gone straight to Pandora’s Box, since Brodie had been anxious to see Rhiannon, the canyon’s vampire Keeper—and his fiancée. Alessande was glad to be alone with Sailor and free to talk.

Sailor continued, “Those monsters were about to sacrifice you. Believe me, you helped save my life, so I know how competent you are, but no one knows what kind of evil you were really up against, if I understand what you’re saying correctly.”

Alessande winced. She really shouldn’t have been so angry with that vampire cop—after all, he had been trying to save her. But, in her own opinion, she had been prepared. Ready. And she was suspicious of vampires and…

No, she shouldn’t have snapped at him.

“I had to be taken captive,” Alessande explained wearily. “It was the only way for me to get in there and find out what’s going on, who’s behind the cult and the deaths.” There was more to her logic—and her desperation to get at the truth—but at this moment she wasn’t ready to completely explain herself, not even to Sailor Ann Gryffald.

“But…you’re Elven,” Sailor said sternly. In the world of the Others, Sailor was the Keeper of the Elven community in the L.A. Valley. “You’re an ancient!”

No one liked to be reminded of her age, Alessande thought, arching a brow at Sailor.

“Sorry,” Sailor said. She and her two Gryffald cousins—Rhiannon and Barrie—were new to the Keeper job, but all three had already been tested under fire. Alessande knew that because she’d been involved with helping Sailor find her way.

They’d met when Alessande had carried Sailor into her home after Sailor had been attacked during the recent so-called Celebrity Virus plague.

“Seriously,” Sailor went on. I can’t tell you how proud I am of so many in the Elven community, but we’re not considered the…the toughest of the Others. Alessande, you create potions, you’re a healer. You live alone… . You’re practically a hermit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Alessande said.

“I’m not trying to offend you, and you know it. You brew the best tea in the country—maybe in the world. You’re like a beacon of caring and wisdom. But you’re gentle. And you could have been up against were-creatures, vampires and God knows what else—not to mention very vicious human beings. How did you intend to save yourself in that situation?” Sailor demanded.

“I was going to teleport,” Alessande said, indignantly.

“You can’t teleport when you’re unconscious,” Sailor argued.

Alessande shook her head, desperately wanting to deny the seriousness of the situation, but the truth was she knew she might have gotten herself into trouble—serious trouble—and she should be grateful to the cops who had come to her rescue. She had just gotten it into her head lately that she had to be more proactive in protecting all Others—along with the human race. And that, of course, was because of Regina, because she’d been forced to see firsthand once again what could happen to the young and innocent—especially the young and innocent among the Elven.

Like the rest of the world, L.A. was filled with all manner of creatures most of humanity knew about only because of legend—and movies. Creatures that most humans didn’t even believe in. Keepers—like the Gryffald cousins—were human beings, but…more. They had special powers aligned with those of the particular paranormal race they were tasked with protecting, and were generally born into longtime Keeper families. They bore special identifying birthmarks. It was as if their role had been predetermined by a divine power.

There were areas in the world where the Other races seldom desired to live…too hard to blend in, not enough for them to do.

L.A., however, was a haven for Others. Because it was a movie town, monsters and strange creatures abounded on-screen and, frankly, offscreen, given how many…unique individuals tended to migrate there. As a place to “hide in plain sight,” nothing filled the bill like Hollywood. That meant that the area was densely populated by Others, so there had to be a commensurately large number of Keepers.

Elven, like Alessande, were fairly recent arrivals in the New World; they were creatures of the earth. Ocean voyages—that much time away from trees, from the rich soil—would have killed them. Alessande had only left the Old World herself when transatlantic flight started to become commonplace.

She was an ancient, one hundred six years old, though she knew she appeared—in the human world—to be about thirty. She’d seen a great deal of the wickedness the world had to offer—wickedness dealt out by both human beings and Others.

Despite everything she’d encountered, everything she had lived through, she had chosen to heal, to advise.

But, damn it, she was an ancient! She should have been able to overcome whatever drug had been given to her.

She’d been aware of everything as it had been going on, and to some degree she had been able to fight the drug, though she had feigned complete passivity.

But…they had drugged her, and it had definitely affected her. Would she have been able to escape at the last second?

Now she was at the Gryffald family estate, a small collection of historic homes on a nice little hill in Laurel Canyon, collectively named the House of the Rising Sun. Sailor’s home was the main residence, and it was called Castle House, while on either side were the guesthouses: Gwydion’s Cave, where Barrie lived, and Pandora’s Box, where Rhiannon made her home. When their fathers, Keepers all, had been called away on international business, the cousins—Sailor, Rhiannon and Barrie—had been thrown into a game that was ages old, though mostly new to them, since they hadn’t expected to take their places as Keepers for years to come, yet the land had been deemed for Keepers for decades. The property had originally belonged to a magician billed as “Merlin,” real name Ivan Schwartz, who had been helped by the Gryffald cousins’ grandfather. Schwartz had added the guesthouses to his estate so that the Keepers could live on his property if they chose. Before he died, Ivan had sold the estate to the Gryffald family for such a pittance that for all intents and purposes it had actually been a gift.

Of course, it came with a catch. Merlin was still around, haunting whichever house he chose. He was a very polite ghost, often extremely helpful, and totally respectful of the inhabitants’ privacy, so in actuality he was a perfect tenant.

At the moment, though, Alessande was glad he wasn’t haunting Castle House.

Keepers had watched over various communities of Others at least since the ancient days, before accepted magic had ended and the world had become a place where the unusual was feared and anyone different, even if they were human, was considered an enemy to be burned at the stake or otherwise destroyed. Because the cousins’ fathers had been considered some of the wisest and most effective Keepers in the world, they had been called up to help form a council so that Others around the world would have guidance—and laws—to help them all live productive lives without attracting the kind of notice that would lead to a return of the bad old days.

Every Other—from the gnomes and leprechauns to the were-folk, vampires and shapeshifters—lived by the Code of Silence, keeping the very existence of the Otherworld secret from humanity. The Code was broken only occasionally and for very special human beings. Even the rashest Others, those with little respect for laws of any kind, upheld the Code, because the Code meant survival. Without it, they could all be doomed. While many in the Other community had powers that made them far stronger and far more lethal than human beings, the human population of the world was larger by perhaps 99 percent, and therefore the Others were vulnerable to persecution and death should their existence ever come to light.

Jonquil, Sailor’s big ragamuffin of a mutt, whined softly and licked Alessande’s fingers. She smiled and scratched the dog’s head. If only the world were made up of such creatures as this. Jonquil seemed to instinctively know kind people from the cruel ones.

Sailor was doing very well as an Elven Keeper now, though when Alessande had first known her, she hadn’t taken her position seriously at all. But that current knowledge gave Alessande a measure of confidence when she was speaking with her Keeper.

“I was always aware of what was going on,” she said. “I know that I appeared to be unconscious, but there was a part of me that was there. I believe I could have teleported when the right moment came.” Elven were strong, even if not as strong as vampires, and while they couldn’t give the illusion of being someone—or something—different, as shapeshifters could, they were able to teleport, moving through space, very handy in escaping dangerous situations. No one yet knew the science of it, but being an Other often meant that there just weren’t logical answers. No one really understood how shapeshifters managed to appear to be birds—and then fly away.

“Believe isn’t good enough when your life depends on it,” Sailor said sternly. She looked at Alessande. “Don’t get me wrong. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today, knowing what I know and doing my job with my mind focused on my responsibilities, if not for you. But, Alessande, I have to agree with Brodie and his vampire partner—you were risking your life, and you almost lost it.”

Alessande smiled; she loved Sailor, and knew her Keeper was being completely sincere. Alessande had been both healer and coavenger when Sailor had fallen ill to the Celebrity Virus, then had brought justice to its perpetrator—since the plague’s spread had been intentional. Alessande knew what she was doing when it came to dealing with the world’s—and the Otherworld’s—evils.

So she really didn’t understand why Brodie was so upset with her. Brodie knew her, knew she was capable of handling herself when the going got tough. As for the vampire cop—well, he was a vampire, and she didn’t expect a hell of a lot out of any vampire.

“Honestly, I knew what I was doing,” Alessande insisted.

Jonquil barked as if in agreement.

“This is the kind of situation the police need to handle,” Sailor said.

“The police? Oh, Sailor, come on. We both know that, in situations where Others are involved, the police are all but helpless.”

“That’s why Others are encouraged to join law enforcement,” Sailor said. “Whether you want to believe it or not, Brodie and Mark were anything but helpless at the cemetery.”

“I don’t care,” Alessande said. “We have to be involved when it comes to our world, Sailor. You know that. And even if they did manage to arrest a number of cult members, we still don’t know who’s behind it all. Someone is at work out there doing something far more vicious than merely creating a cult, and they have to be an Other. I believe it’s either a shapeshifter or a vampire, which is why it’s not such a great thing for a vampire to be working on this. I mean, seriously, a vampire policeman is really something of an oxymoron!”

“Oh, Alessande, honestly, that isn’t true,” Sailor said. Her eyes were wide as she stared past Alessande, who swung around quickly in her seat to find Rhiannon Gryffald had arrived, standing with her hands on her hips, watching Alessande.

She winced.

No, of course it wasn’t true, and she knew it. She didn’t understand her own behavior right now—she was usually cool, collected and serene.

It was the situation.

And maybe even the fact that she had almost died, but she had to remain in denial or give up on her ultimate goal.

And now, just as she had spoken carelessly, Rhiannon had walked in.

Rhiannon Gryffald was the oldest of the three cousins, and though she had not particularly wanted to come to L.A. when her father had headed off to form the international council, she had been the first to embrace her life as a Keeper—the vampire Keeper for the Valley. And she was very much in love with Brodie.

Thankfully, Brodie was an Other—Alessande’s kind, Elven—so there was no awkwardness in trying to explain the Otherworld and Rhiannon’s role in it to him. He was a great guy and a good cop, and Alessande was fond of him—just as she was fond of the entire Gryffald family. But Rhiannon was quick, maybe too quick, to defend the basic decency of the Valley’s vampire population—and quick to take offense if they were accused of misdeeds with no proof.

“I’m sorry,” Alessande murmured.

“Vampires get a bad rap,” Rhiannon said. She tossed back a length of auburn hair. “I knocked,” she told her cousin. “I guess you didn’t hear me—over the rant.”

“Rhiannon,” Alessande said, “really, I’m sorry. It’s just that Brodie’s partner behaved as if I was some kind of idiot with no idea what I was doing.”

Rhiannon arched a brow. “You were about to be a sacrifice—if I heard correctly.”

“I would have teleported at the right time,” Alessande insisted stubbornly. “But first I would have figured out who’s behind the cult and the killings. Never mind. I’m not trying to be argumentative or cast aspersions on anyone. But this is ridiculous. When we left the police station, I agreed to come here to talk with Sailor, as my Keeper, but if no one’s going to take me seriously, then forgive me, but I really should be leaving.”

She’d come straight here—from seemingly endless hours of police paperwork. From questions that she answered as best she could when there was no true answer to some of them, or no answer she could give in the world of men. She’d been very careful, trying to be forthright without giving away any information that would make the human employees of the police department suspicious.

And worse, her car was at the impound lot. She’d had to ride with Brodie and Mark, and she was stuck here until she could ease her way out of the conversation and get someone to drive her home.

She spoke in an even tone to Rhiannon. “Forgive me. This—It’s senseless,” she said quietly. “The fact that you’re Keepers makes you responsible for dangerous situations, but it doesn’t preclude the rest of us from acting when those we care about are threatened. I really would like to just go home now, if you don’t mind.”

“Alessande,” Sailor protested gently. “We’re not attacking you—really.”

“No, I don’t mean to attack,” Rhiannon said softly. “If it seems like we are, it’s because we’re frightened—frightened for you.”

At that moment Barrie Gryffald, Keeper of the Valley shapeshifters, burst into the house. “I heard what happened! Oh, my God! Alessande—you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Barrie, thank you,” Alessande said.

“But you set yourself up—were you able to find out anything about Regina?”

“Regina?” Rhiannon asked.

Alessande lowered her head for a moment. She looked up at Barrie and shook her head slowly. “No. I’d hoped I’d be taken wherever she might be and that…”

“And that you could save her,” Barrie finished.

“She’s innocent and young and…she disappeared two nights ago now. I’m afraid. The longer she’s missing…”

Regina Johnson was eighteen and on her own. She’d come to L.A. straight out of a foster home in San Francisco. Alessande had met her when Regina had agreed to play a minor role in a fantasy movie being filmed at a small studio run by one of Alessande’s friends. That was a negative about being Elven, at least in Alessande’s mind. Many in the Elven community flocked to L.A. because they had excellent prospects for success in the movies. Elven tended to be blond, blue-eyed, statuesque and filled with a natural charm that the camera seemed to love. Elven who didn’t work in the movies tended to work on them.

“All right, yes, I did—do—want to save her. But that’s simply part of it. Okay, most of it,” Alessande said in a rush. “But it’s not only Regina. She was just the last to disappear, so there’s still hope for her. And I feel so bad for her. Growing up, she didn’t even know that she was Elven, didn’t know that there was a whole community of Others just like her, that she was normal…and she comes here, settles in, starts to work—and disappears.”

“You felt bad for an orphan because you were orphaned, weren’t you?” Sailor said.

“Yes,” Alessande admitted. Her situation hadn’t been quite as bad. She had never known her own father, but she had a brother two years younger from her mother’s second marriage; his father and their mother had been with them until dying in an accident when Alessande was seven and Conner five. After that they had been adopted by Elven parents and had grown up in a family where they were loved and understood. That had been back in Northern Scotland, many years ago. Her brother was still dear to her, but he’d remained behind in the Old World when she’d left in the middle of World War II, unable to stay behind after the love of her life had been killed during the invasion of Normandy. She loved her brother dearly, and one of them traveled back and forth every few years to visit. Her adoptive parents were still overseas as well, having chosen to retire to Cork, in Ireland. She saw them as often as she could.

Regina had not had the benefit of a brother or loving adoptive parents. She’d thought there was something seriously wrong with her for most of her life. Alessande had met her soon after she’d discovered what she was and had wanted to make the world right for her.

Then…

Then she’d been kidnapped—right when being kidnapped seemed to mean showing up dead just a few weeks later.

“The point is,” Alessande said, “Regina was the third young woman to disappear—and the other two were apparently held somewhere for weeks before they were dumped.”

“We all understand trying to save a friend,” Barrie said. She walked over to the sofa in front of the fire and took a seat, looking around Castle House as if she were assessing it—as if she’d never been in it before. Like the guest cottages, Castle House was eclectic, filled with old charm and curios.

The houses seemed to suit the unique personalities of the three women. Castle House boasted carved-wood details, and Alessande loved it. Her own cabin was built of wood, which was always comforting to her, and from it, she drew her strength.

Barrie was apparently trying to figure out where to start. A reporter, she was up on the news almost as it happened. “It’s true,” she said now, looking over at Rhiannon. “Leesa Adair disappeared six weeks ago. Her body was found two weeks later and—” she paused, wincing “—and the medical examiner said that she’d only been dead a day or two. Judith Belgrave disappeared four weeks ago, and her body was found just two days ago. Whoever is kidnapping these women is holding them for weeks before they wind up dead.”

Rhiannon had taken a seat on one of the overstuffed armchairs by the sofa, and now she looked from Alessande to Barrie. “But though they bled out, they were not truly drained. If a vampire were behind this, I guarantee you—a rogue vampire wouldn’t waste a murder. Those girls would have not had one drop in their bodies.”

Alessande winced. “I hate to say this, but usually when something involves magic and illusion—like this Sebastian Hildegard cult—shapeshifters are involved.”

“Naturally I’ve thought about that,” Barrie said quietly.

“Let’s back up a minute,” Rhiannon said, turning to Alessande. “Exactly how did you almost become a sacrifice to Sebastian Hildegard? Brodie and Mark were out at the cemetery earlier because an anonymous tipster had called and said that they suspected a ‘cult meeting with murderous intent’ would occur there at midnight. But what made you think that the cult was connected to the dead women and Regina’s disappearance?”

“And how on earth did you arrange to get yourself taken?” Sailor demanded.

“And why, if they were holding the other women before killing them, did they decide to sacrifice you so quickly?” Barrie asked.

Alessande looked from one cousin to another.

“I read the news stories about the other women who were kidnapped and traced their routes—and I knew where Regina had gone the day she disappeared,” Alessande explained. “She had just gotten a job at the House of Illusion when—”

Sailor interrupted her with a tone of anger and impatience. “There’s been trouble there before,” she said. “But you know I work there, right?”

“Yes, I know that,” Alessande said.

“Between waitressing and performing there, I would have known if the House of Illusion was the last place those women were seen,” Sailor said.

“It wasn’t the last place they were seen,” Alessande continued. “But both dead women and Regina were there within two days of their disappearances. Nearby is an old studio—”

“I know it!” Sailor said, her voice growing anxious. “It was owned by the Hildegard family. It closed down thirty years ago and the land has been the center of a legal dispute between the city and the heirs for years now.”

“I know,” Alessande said.

“That studio is surrounded by a seven-foot wall,” Rhiannon said.

“And it’s right by a coffee shop and a gas station and a convenience store,” Alessande pointed out. “Regina called me the afternoon she disappeared. She was going to stop to get gas on her way home from the House of Illusion. And both of the other women had bought gas the day they went missing, too. Their cars were found with the tanks full.”

“How do you know that?” Sailor asked her.

“I went by the police impound,” Alessande said.

“And they just told you that?” Rhiannon asked.

“You found an officer, flirted with him—and read his mind, didn’t you?” Barrie said.

Alessande flushed; as long as the Elven could get a person to look them straight in the eyes, yes. Teleporting and mind reading were their talents. It had been an easy matter for Alessande to learn everything she had wanted to know from the officer who had been on duty at the impound. He had been human—and blithely unaware of the Others around him.

“I didn’t do anything illegal,” Alessande said.

“I’m just annoyed that I didn’t think of it,” Barrie said.

“Okay, so let’s get this in order,” Rhiannon said. “You investigated at the House of Illusion—”

“Not really. I just watched the news reports and read their coverage. Leesa’s boyfriend said she’d gone there with friends, and Judith’s mother mentioned in an interview that her daughter had been there, too. Regina called me from the parking lot to say she’d gotten the job and was going to stop for gas on her way home…so I went to the House of Illusion, and looked around, saw the gas station and figured it made sense that they’d all filled up there. And with the old studio right next door, it just seemed logical there was a connection.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to call the police?” Rhiannon asked.

Alessande smiled. “If I’d called the police, they would have made some big-deal search, and everyone would have disappeared before anything was discovered. Plus they would need a warrant—and I didn’t.”

“There are also laws for Others,” Rhiannon said. “In fact, they’re being formalized by the international council right now. And for all of us to live as we do—with the right to the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness—we have to abide by the laws that govern us, as well.”

“I didn’t break any laws. I had dinner at the House of Illusion, watched the show, and then I bought gas and looked curiously through the gates at the old Hildegard Studio,” Alessande explained. “And…”

“And?” Rhiannon asked.

“There’s an opening in the gate where one of the bars is rusted out. So I slipped through and started to walk around.”

“And then?” Sailor asked.

“And then some jerk threw a bag over my head,” Alessande said.

“If he was human, you could have escaped,” Sailor told her.

“But I wasn’t trying to escape,” Alessande explained. “I wanted them to take me wherever they were holding Regina.”

“But I presume they didn’t,” Rhiannon said.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I think they decided to kill me right away because they caught me snooping. Anyway, there was something…something on or in the bag that knocked me out for a while. I don’t know what it was—I should have recognized the scent,” Alessande said. She was an expert in herbs and herbal remedies. “But—” she quickly defended herself “—I was awake and aware by the time we got to the cemetery. They wouldn’t have been able to sacrifice me.”

She was startled by a loud snort and quickly spun around in her chair to see that Mark and Brodie had slipped in unnoticed. She wondered how long they had been listening.

“You were pretty damned out of it when I got there,” Mark said.

She was about to reply when Brodie strode over and took up a position behind Rhiannon. “Alessande, you didn’t say all this at the station.”

“Seriously, Brodie? How could I?” she demanded.

“You could have told us that you were taken from the old Hildegard Studio,” he said.

“No! Don’t you understand? We have to get in there,” she said. “Not the police. Besides, what should I have said? That I got some of my information through Elven mind reading?”

“Your sarcasm won’t change anything. What you did was dangerous,” Brodie told her.

“Please,” she said, her aggravation evident. “Life for us is dangerous—that’s why we have Keepers, and why we depend so heavily on one another. And why Elven look after Elven.”

“You’re not a Keeper,” Brodie said firmly. “And you’re certainly not a cop. So you were way out of line, doing what you did.”

“What you did, what you tried to do, was very courageous,” Rhiannon said. “But you shouldn’t have acted on your own. We’re a pretty strong group here. You’ve got four Keepers, counting Sailor’s fiancé, Declan—plus you’ve got Brodie and Barrie’s fiancé, Mick, who is an investigative reporter and shapeshifter. This…mission will involve all of us. Alessande, you’re brilliant, an ancient. You create powerful potions to heal us. You can look at the world and see the truth. You have to be careful. We can’t risk you, don’t you know that?” she asked gently.

“Rhiannon, I appreciate that,” Alessande said. “But if you recall, I was out there taking chances during the Celebrity Virus—and I will be out there now. Please. What I did was find out more than the cops. And what I am right now is really, really tired,” she said, rising. “Sailor, would you mind giving me a ride home?”

“My car is blocking yours,” Mark Valiente said to Sailor. “I can give the Elven a ride home.”

The Elven?

Alessande was speechless. The last thing she wanted to do was get in a car with the vampire cop who was behaving as if she was a schoolgirl with no sense.

But before she could protest, Sailor said, “Mark, that would be great of you. Declan will be here soon—we’re having dinner with a few of his shapeshifter friends, and it might be even more important now to see if any of them knows anything. Alessande is right up Mulholland Drive. I mean, I wouldn’t mind at all, but since you offered…”

“No problem,” Mark said. He smiled at Sailor, as if he felt real affection for her. She smiled back at him.

Great, Alessande thought. They were all just wonderful friends here. No doubt Declan Wainwright, a friend of Sailor’s long before he’d fallen in love with her, also respected Mark Valiente.

If she turned the ride down, she would only appear to be unreasonable and unpleasant.

“Thank you,” she said regally.

“I’ll get her home,” Mark said, “and then Brodie can meet me at the old Hildegard Studio and we’ll check it out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Alessande said.

Brodie protested. “What are you, Alessande? A glutton for punishment? I’ll give Mark some time to get you home, and then he and I—and only he and I—will look around the studio. I understand what you’re saying about the police, but Mark and I are not your usual cops.”

Did it matter, she wondered, if she were there, so long as Brodie and Mark could help, if needed, while searching the place? She couldn’t avoid feeling, however, that she had done the work; she was the one with the passion to save a life—and they were just taking over.

She determined not to waste time and energy arguing anymore.

“They took me yesterday—they meant me to be a sacrifice. But you—and they—underestimated my abilities. I would have gotten out. The thing is, I believe Regina was meant to die last night before they caught me snooping around. That means she’s probably still alive. But for how long? We have to find her.”

“We’ll search the old studio thoroughly, Alessande,” Brodie promised her. “If she’s there, we’ll find her.”

“I doubt she’s being held there any longer,” Alessande said.

“Then we’ll find the clues that will lead us to where she is being held. Not to mention that we arrested several people at the mausoleum,” Brodie said.

“You already interrogated them for hours,” Alessande said. “I know, because you kept me sitting there the whole time. Luckily I had some of your human colleagues to…talk to. Let’s see, the tall ‘dude’ from Texas, along with his sister and girlfriend, claim to have met a man in a coffee shop who told them about a really cool role-playing ghost tour. Yeah, they were a lot of help. Then there was the junkie who didn’t even know he’d been there. And last, the college student who had come to take photographs for the college paper to use for an article on old Hollywood. They were a lot of help.”

“Someone has to know something,” Mark said.

“You arrested five human beings. I doubt a human being is running things,” Alessande told him.

“True enough. But right now we’re looking for Regina,” Mark replied. “And we’re in a better position to do that than anyone else, even you, Alessande. You’re not a one-woman army. We can help, so let us.”

“All of us can help,” Rhiannon told her.

“Help? The way you talk, only the police and Keepers are any use. Those of us who aren’t part of those groups need to be good little Others and stay out of the way.”

“Alessande, be reasonable. We need to act fast if we’re going to break this case,” Sailor said. “We need to bring all of the councils up to speed, make everyone in our community aware of what’s going on, since it seems as if at least one rogue Other is involved.”

We know that Others are involved, Alessande thought. She opened her mouth to say so, but Mark beat her to it.

“Sailor, Barrie, I believe that shapeshifters are involved and—”

Barrie interrupted him with a weary groan.

“And,” Mark repeated, “perhaps vampires. I didn’t see any Elven other than Alessande—though the Others in the congregation managed to disappear pretty quickly, and God knows a seasoned Elven can teleport in the blink of an eye. But I think it’s possible that there’s a conspiracy among those Others who resent the fact that the international council of Keepers is now working on establishing a universal legal code.”

“We’ll have to get in contact with the rest of the L.A.–area Keepers about this,” Rhiannon said. “And we’ll have to call our own councils to discuss the matter. Someone out there somewhere knows something. We just have to find out who.”

“And anyone who’s not equipped or trained to deal with criminal activity needs to stay out of it,” Mark said, turning to look at Alessande.

She fought hard to control her temper.

Maybe it didn’t help that he was so tall. As an Elven, she stood eye to eye with most men, but not him. Valiente was six foot four or so. He probably made a good cop. He was muscular and imposing, with ink-dark hair and the yellow-gold eyes that were frequently found among his kind, plus many striking features.

The better to terrify jaywalkers, she couldn’t help but think.

“Shall we?” he offered.

She walked to the door and paused before turning back. “Brodie, if you and Mark are both going to the old studio, who’s going to continue interrogating the humans you brought to the station?”

“Brodie already questioned them while you and I were speaking with the lieutenant,” Mark told her. “Besides, you’re the one who just said that they were basically worthless as sources of information.”

“I know I did, but…didn’t you learn anything? I couldn’t hear everything that they were saying to Brodie,” she said.

“Strange, it sounded like you did,” Mark said casually.

“Most of them thought it was a show, something to amuse the tourists,” Brodie explained. “The junkie said he thought he’d joined up with a religious group performing a ritual. Only thing he heard that impressed me was that he thinks they believed they could bring Sebastian Hildegard back to life—that he’s a new messiah.”

“And he thought nothing of an ostensibly unconscious woman lying on top of a sarcophagus?” Alessande asked.

“He thought you were part of the group, that you were just there to greet Sebastian when he came back to life,” Brodie told her. “He thought the knives were merely symbolic.”

“But—”

“We can’t prove that he or any of them knew you were kidnapped. They all seemed to believe that you were a volunteer, part of the ritual, the show, the tour—whatever they had stumbled into,” Brodie said quietly.

Mark sighed. “We don’t even have enough evidence to hold them for more than twenty-four hours. One guy threatened to sue the department for breaching his civil rights. Says even if he stumbled into something he knew nothing about, everyone is entitled to religious freedom. At least we interrupted the really bad guys tonight. Being Others, they were a lot more powerful and dangerous than the people we’ve got in custody. The sect, or whatever it is, is going to be regrouping.”

They were getting nowhere, Alessande realized, and continued on toward the door. She turned once more, looking back at the Gryffald cousins. “Thank you,” she told them.

With all the dignity she could muster, she stood by the door and waited for Mark. All she had to do now was keep a civil tongue until the vampire cop got her home so she could sleep for a while and forget the trauma—and the failure—of that night.

She had to admit, she was exhausted.

Mark Valiente joined her at the door, led her out and pointed to the vintage Mustang in the driveway. She already knew it was his car, although she had made the drive from the police station to the House of the Rising Sun with Brodie.

“Pretty nice car for a cop,” she said, then wanted to bite her tongue. Be civil, she chastised herself.

He shrugged. “It moves when it needs to,” he assured her, then grinned. “It’s actually my work car—came out of a police auction.”

The car didn’t have much of a backseat, but the front seats were comfortable and afforded a lot of space for long legs. Alessande slid in quickly, before he could hold much less open the door for her, though she didn’t know if he would have tried to or not.

They were both silent as he headed down the driveway, waited as the gate opened and eased out onto the road. It was dusk. The air was growing cooler, and the sun was falling in the western sky. The sunset was beautiful, shades of purple and orange slowly disappearing in the encroaching darkness. She couldn’t believe how late it had gotten, but they’d been at the police station for what had seemed like forever after the raid at the tomb, and then they’d been at the House of the Rising Sun for a while, too.

Alessande turned, looking at him, and said at last, “What about the bad guys? Do you think they’ll kill Regina out of anger over what happened—whether to get even with us or as a warning?”

“I don’t think that Regina is in any more danger than she has been. She’s Elven, young and very beautiful. I imagine they want her for something important,” Mark responded. He glanced her way. “As an ancient, you should be able to tell me. Do you know anything firsthand about Sebastian Hildegard?”

There it was—that damned age reference again. “I was in Scotland at the time,” she said haughtily. “What about you, vampire? How the hell old are you? Weren’t you around at the time?”

He smiled grimly. “I was living in New York City back then. And,” he said, assessing her, “what are you really? About eighty?”

“One hundred six.”

“I was born soon after the American Civil War. I suppose I do have you by a few years. My family didn’t come out to California until the 1970s. We moved around a lot before that. You know, you can’t stay anywhere long when you don’t age.”

Alessande started to open her mouth as they were driving along the steep winding trail of Mulholland Drive, but something slammed down on the roof of the car—as if hit by the Hand of God. The Mustang veered wildly toward the edge of the cliff, teetering dangerously toward the chasm that plunged hundreds of feet to the ground—and certain death.