Keeper of the Night

Sailor stared at Rhiannon for a long moment, and then reached out and pulled her into a hug. “Oh, I am so sorry! You know…maybe someone has been itching to break the rules and waited until our fathers were gone, figuring that—”

“We’d be ineffectual,” Rhiannon said wearily.

Barrie and Sailor were silent.

“Well, I don’t intend to be ineffectual,” Rhiannon said. “So tomorrow night, the three of us, the theater…”

“We’ll be ready,” Sailor assured her. “It will be great.”

“All I can think about is three bodies drained of blood—and I’ve barely been here a week,” Rhiannon said.

“We’ll get through this. We’ll help you get the answers,” Barrie said. “Right, Sailor?”

“Right,” Sailor agreed.

Rhiannon left Gwydion’s Cave and headed back to her own house. The moon was out, shining down and creating a crystal trail across the surface of the pool.

Three bodies drained of blood.

Tomorrow she would get out her dad’s list of helpful contacts in the city. She had to get into the morgue and see what she could find out, and then, tomorrow night, the play.

“Vampire Rampage,” she murmured.

She reached into her pocket and fingered the business card the Elven had given her, then pulled it out and looked at it. Mac Brodie, Actor. And then it offered a cell phone number. It was curious that an actor’s card didn’t have his website and résumé listed.

She thought about calling him, then decided to wait until she’d seen the show. She might be a novice Keeper, but she was going to have to be strong and prove that she could be as effective as her father.

Because she was very afraid that there was already a vampire on the rampage in L.A.

Brodie sat at his desk at the station, reading over the files on his desk.

The first body had been discovered three weeks ago at the bottom of the molding pool at an abandoned house off Hollywood and Vine—the owner had gone into foreclosure and no enterprising real estate mogul had as yet snapped up the place. The victim, who was in his twenties, remained unidentified, despite the fact that they’d combed through missing person reports from across the country. Of course, he’d been missing his fingers and though the morgue had taken dental impressions, they were worthless when there were no records with which to compare them.

The dead man must have had friends or family somewhere, but apparently none of them had reported him missing. Then again, young people often took off to “find themselves,” so their nearest and dearest didn’t always know they were missing.

Because of the fetid water where the body had been dumped, the soft tissue had been in an advanced state of decomposition. Despite the mess he’d had to work with, Tony Brandt’s report stated that he’d tentatively identified the puncture marks at the throat that had led to exsanguination, which he listed as cause of death. Because the body had been in the water and then in the morgue for several weeks—and because it was a John Doe—the case had ended up at the bottom of a pile of open cases that had gone cold.

There was one interesting fact, though. A waterlogged playbill had been discovered in his pocket.

Ten days ago, with the discovery of the second body, two files had landed on Brodie’s desk. His captain was concerned. The second file contained another John Doe. This one had been found in a small man-made lake in Los Feliz—near a rehearsal hall that had been rented to a local theatrical group, the same group now performing Vampire Rampage. Once again dental impressions had been taken, and they were still hoping to make a match. Also once again, no fingerprint identification was possible because there were no fingers.

That body had also been decaying for some time. It was in fact so decayed that Tony Brandt could only find the suggestion of puncture marks in the jugular vein. But the similarities had been enough for Brodie’s captain to decide that the two murders might be the work of a serial killer, and that it was time to get to the truth.

Captain Edwin Riley knew something about the Others and the Otherworld. He was one of the few individuals trusted by the city’s Other community, being the son of a practicing Wiccan and high priestess who’d been targeted for death. Brodie didn’t really know the whole story, and the captain didn’t like talking about it, so he didn’t pry. But it had something to do with a religious cult that had decided his parents were devil worshippers, and that they needed to have an accident—one that would remove them from the earth.

They’d survived the accident, thanks to Brodie’s father, then a young Elven, who had seen what was happening and jumped from his own car in time to rescue the Rileys’ car before their car went over a cliff.

Most human beings had no idea about the existence of the Others, but the captain knew about Brodie, which made him the logical choice to find out what was happening.

The next thing he knew, he was auditioning. There had been an opening in the cast because an actor had suddenly and, from the cops’ point of view conveniently, left, sending Jackson Hunter an email stating that he had to get back to Connecticut and stop the love of his life from marrying another man.

It had seemed a weak link—joining the play—but it was better than nothing, and the theater was the only connection, however vague, between the murders. He’d been suspicious that the missing actor might be one of the John Does in the morgue cooler, but Adam Lansky, in the police tech assistance unit, had tracked him down, and he was indeed back in Connecticut. Whether he’d stopped the love of his life from marrying another man or not, Brodie didn’t know.

Tonight, after seeing the third corpse on Tony Brandt’s autopsy table, he was more convinced than ever that the killer was somehow involved with the play. Not only had the corpse been found in the lake that was just past the parking lot and a stretch of overgrown brush behind the theater, but there was the fact that he’d actually seen the man in the audience.

Three John Does, all of them connected in one way or another to the theater and Vampire Rampage. And, he was very much afraid, to a real vampire, too.

All right after the three strongest peacekeepers in the area had left.

And in their place…

Three untested…girls.

Brodie stood and walked to the rear of his bungalow apartment in central Hollywood. He could see the crescent moon rising boldly in the clear heavens. He tried to tell himself that the fact that the bodies had been drained did not definitely mean that the killer was a vampire. The victims might have been drained so that their deaths appeared to be the work of a vampire. And God knew, there were plenty of crazy humans who thought they were vampires. And there were dozens of reasons for draining a body of blood, starting with…

Hunger.

Like it or not, he had the feeling that a vampire was guilty.

All he had to do was find him—and kill him.

Obviously he couldn’t count on any help from the new Keeper, Ms. Rhiannon Gryffald, and yet the case definitely fell under her jurisdiction. He’d given her his card, damn it, and she hadn’t even bothered to call him. Okay, so she didn’t now he was a cop. But still, she should have realized that something important was up—something she, as a Keeper, needed to investigate.

He gritted his teeth, wondering just how many corpses they would find before the killer was unmasked.

Chapter 3

Rhiannon wasn’t as close to Darius Simonides as Sailor was, but their families had always been involved, so she was confident enough to head for his office late the next morning, despite the fact that she had no real idea of what she was about to say. She hadn’t seen him since she’d come to town to take over her father’s duties, so she could just chat, of course, and hope something useful came out of it.

Darius was a powerhouse; his offices were chrome and glass, impeccably modern. Head shots of his A-list clients covered the walls, along with movie posters. Artistic little Greek columns held statues of movie scenes. The offices were elegant, as they should be. Darius had earned his reputation.

She made her way past the guard on the first floor and up the broad marble staircase to the second floor, aware that security cameras followed her all the way. When she reached Darius’s office she was stopped by his secretary. She smiled when she saw the woman; she had known Mary Bickly from the time she’d been a child. Mary was no-nonsense. She had iron-gray hair and a manner to match. No one saw Darius unless she chose to let them in.

“Well, hello there, Rhiannon,” Mary said, rising and coming around her large desk, her arms outstretched for a hug. Rhiannon quickly accepted. “Welcome. I understand that you and your cousin Barrie have moved to Los Angeles. It was quite bizarre, the way your families all moved to Europe. Did they go back to Wales?”

“No, no, my father and his brothers were always close, and I guess they just decided that they’d tour Europe together. My dad has always been fascinated by the Hague, so that’s where they’re spending most of their time.” Not only was Mary human, but she had no idea that Darius was a vampire. It was amazing, really, that the Others were so heavily represented in L.A., and yet most of them managed to remain completely below the radar.

“Well, I know that Darius misses your father and his brothers, but I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. He’s in a meeting right now, if you can wait a few minutes? Would you like some coffee, dear?”

“I don’t mind waiting, and you needn’t bother—” Rhiannon began.

“No bother. The little pod maker thing is right there, on the shelf. Go help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Rhiannon walked over and selected something that promised to be “bold and eye-opening, the best breakfast blend.” As she played with the coffeemaker, the inner door to Darius’s sanctum opened. She turned quickly, and to her surprise she saw not just Darius and Declan Wainwright, but one of the men who had destroyed her evening at the Magic Café. Jack Hunter, she remembered. Aka “Drago.” And right behind them, another man. Mac Brodie.

Darius saw her just as Declan did, and both men offered her broad, welcoming smiles.