CHAPTER 13

“Alex, you’re awake!” I was so happy to see that he and Patrick were all right that I practically smothered them both in a bear hug. Or dragon hug. Take your pick. Patrick gave me a boyish grin while Alex laughed and—without thinking—planted a passionate kiss on my lips. I heard Ralph clear his throat, and Tonya snicker, but neither said a word as we turned around, although Ralph had a crestfallen look on his face.

“As to where you are, welcome to my world.” Tonya waved to them from the table and went back to the book, taking down notes. “You have Shimmer and Ralph to thank for not being two piles of dust right now.”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick looked confused. I let out a long sigh and slipped my arm through his elbow, garnering an odd look from Alex. “Come over to the table and sit down. There’s something we have to tell you.”

Looking worried, both vampires silently followed me to the table. We settled in and I glanced over at Ralph, who gave me a nod.

“First, the exorcism didn’t work. The spirits are still there.”

“Wonderful, but what does that have to do—” Alex started to say, but I cut him off.

“The spirits are still there and they started a fire, and your bed-and-breakfast is now lacking a living room and part of a kitchen.” I didn’t like being so blunt, but it was cruel to pussyfoot around. And though I could be clueless at times, I wasn’t deliberately mean.

They both stared at me like I’d grown another head or stated I wanted them to turn me into a vampire. I thought of saying more, but I’d just be blathering at that point and I didn’t trust my sense of propriety not to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

After a minute, Patrick managed to stutter out a few words. “My house burned down?”

“Part of it. The creature started the fire, though I imagine the fire marshal will find a more logical reason. But yeah, your house needs some major renovations. We managed to get you guys out, but it wasn’t easy. You might want to install some emergency settings on those rooms in the basement so we don’t have to bust the hinges off the metal doors.” Ralph gave him a sympathetic look. “Truth is, you’re lucky that the spirit picked a time when Shimmer and I were awake, or we’d all be toast now.”

The men remained silent for a moment, so I decided to plunge on ahead with the rest of our news. “We found the murder weapon used to kill Lacy. It was under the bed in the attic. And I found a bunch of papers up there I want to go through. We might be able to figure out what happened to her through them. We also figured out that the dominant spirit, the one keeping the others trapped, probably isn’t a spirit at all but actually may be a forest wight. A creature that lives between the realms. We think it’s feeding off the fear and chaos its causing.”

Again, they stared at me, silent. Alex cleared his throat and leaned forward. “So . . . we’re not chasing ghosts . . .”

“We are,” Ralph said. “We’re also chasing this forest wight, which can trap spirits. We think he feeds off their pain. And they’re easier for him to keep under control.”

“Now that we know what he is, we can probably figure out a way to trap him—” Tonya started, but Patrick stood, shushing her.

“I’ve had it. I don’t want to trap this creature, or free the spirits, or look through a sack full of old papers. Right now, I don’t care who killed Lacy Buckland, or why they buried her in my yard. My business is in the toilet. The High Tide Bed-and-Breakfast should have just burned down entirely—I’d probably be better off because then, at least, I could collect the insurance money and sell the land and leave without a problem.” He jumped up and stomped over to the refrigerator, then stopped cold. “I don’t suppose you have any bottled blood?”

Tonya winced. “I’m sorry—I knew I forgot to buy something this afternoon. I can run out and grab a six-pack.” She started to stand, but Patrick shook his head.

“Don’t bother. And don’t get me wrong. I appreciate you guys saving my ass—our asses—but I’m tired of this. I’m tired of fighting an invisible enemy. I just want to get on with my life. For what it’s worth anymore, at least.” And that was a telling sentence because he dropped to the floor, back against the sink cabinet, and stared at the toes of his boots, looking terribly morose.

Alex glanced at me. I shrugged. I didn’t have a clue what to say. Patrick was his friend, not mine. So Alex settled himself next to Patrick and leaned back, too, staring at the ceiling.

Ralph went back to whatever it was he was searching for on the Net, while Tonya studiously ignored the pair of vamps, her nose deep in her book. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I leaned across the table to watch Tonya.

“Mate, what’s eating you?” Alex spoke in low tones, but we could all still hear him.

Patrick didn’t answer for a moment, and then he said, “This isn’t the way I thought it would be. None of it.”

“Do you want to take a walk outside? We can talk privately.” Alex leaned back on one hand and quickly jumped to his feet. He was lithe and strong, and the buckles on his motorcycle boots jingled a little as he steadied himself against the kitchen sink. As I watched him, I found myself wondering what he looked like underneath those jeans and boots. Determined that I was going to find out as soon as possible, I tried to steer my thoughts back to the issue at hand.

Patrick accepted his hand. He brushed off the back of his jeans. “No, it’s okay.” They returned to the table and sat down, Patrick mulling over whatever it was that stewed inside him.

Alex poked his head over Tonya’s shoulder, frowning. “That’s an old book, love.”

She nodded. “Very old. And this is our spirit.” She pointed to the picture of the forest wight. “He can move in a blur and a shadow. He feeds off pain and anger and can influence mortals to do what he wants them to. He’s basically a fucked-up little sadist.”

Patrick hunched his shoulders then, letting them slump, deflated in his chair. “Okay, we’ll do this. I’m sorry I was so whiny. I’m just . . . I wanted to be a vampire for so long. Alex—he was the first vamp I met and he made it all look so easy. He was—is”—he looked over at Alex and smiled softly—“one of the coolest dudes I’ve ever met. When I found out I had aplastic anemia, I asked him to turn me. I didn’t want to die. I was scared.”

“Anybody would be.” Tonya gave him a faint smile. “Mortal life? We’re told we should enjoy it more, that it’s more valuable because it’s so short, but the truth is, that’s a bunch of bullshit. Death sucks and most of us don’t have any choice about the matter.”

Patrick laughed then. “I love how blunt you are. You’re your mother’s daughter, all right, minus the part where she kept threatening to cut off my dick.” He grinned at her and she returned the smile. “Okay, so yeah, I didn’t want to die. I don’t know if Alex has told you the rest . . .” It was more of a statement than a question— but we all shook our heads. Better he think we didn’t really know anything about the matter.

After another pause, he continued. “I asked Alex to turn me.”

“I should have helped you out, I realize that now.” Alex interrupted him, a guilt-ridden look in his eyes. “I was being selfish.”

“You were being kind. I had no clue what being a vampire would mean and you tried to tell me, but all I could see was that long dark journey into oblivion and right then, anything sounded better than going there.”

Patrick leaned back and crossed his arms, one side of his lip tilted up in a half smile. “I should have listened, I guess. After you left, I spent a couple months partying really hard. A friend—or rather, a cocaine buddy—introduced me to Zera, a vampire. We partied at her place. I couldn’t let them use me as a bloodwhore because I was so low on blood as it was, but then . . . she took me aside one night and offered me what I had longed to hear. The chance to become a vamp. She said she’d turn me and we could be together. I didn’t care so much about the latter. Oh, I liked her enough, but what I really wanted was that immortality. That freedom from disease and decay and death—the three big Ds.”

“So you let her turn you.” Alex stared at him.

“I let her turn me. I put my affairs in order first, and then . . . I went to her. It was rough, bad—she made it hurt. That’s when I realized she enjoyed the struggle. She got off on pain, but not so much from bloodwhores but other vamps. We spent three years together and every single day she made my life hell. She was really into pain.”

“Sadist, was she?” Alex’s voice was steady in that icy cold way that I knew meant his temper was up. If he ever found this Zera, she’d be toast. “How did you get away from her, then?”

Patrick shrugged. “It was actually easy once I decided to do it. Zera wanted to travel to Europe, so she booked passage on a boat. I was supposed to go with her, but instead of going to sleep in my coffin that night, I sneaked out and managed to evade her bodyguards. They never thought I’d disobey my sire. They gave up and left and . . . well . . . I haven’t heard from her since then.”

“So here you are.”

“So here I am. I took up a new business. I dropped in on my relatives, but once they found out that I hadn’t died, that I’d been turned, they ordered me out of their house. My own mother and father moved away, refusing to acknowledge me as their son. They think I’m some demon from hell.” He winced at that and I realized that Patrick had no family, either. Not any longer.

Alex glanced at me with a warning not to say anything. So I sat silent, just listening.

“Look, mate. You would have lost them anyway, once their time’s up. In a way, consider it a blessing because you don’t have to say good-bye to them. It’s not a walk in the park watching everybody you love die around you, while you never age a day. I think that’s harder than having no family at all.”

Patrick shrugged again. “I wouldn’t know. I’m still too new at this to know very much. But I do know that I want a bottle of blood while we discuss how to handle this critter who’s taken over my house. I’ll run out and get a six-pack.”

“You want company, man?” Ralph jumped up. “I could use a mocha and some chips.”

“Sure, come along, wolf boy, and tell me all about what your boss has been doing for fun the past few years.” With a wink, Patrick caught his keys as I threw them to him, and he and Ralph headed out the door.

I let out a long breath. “I feel sorry for him.”

“I do, too, love. I do, too.” Alex scooted his chair back. “Why don’t we put the discussion of how to deal with this forest wight on hold till they get back. I wouldn’t mind a little fresh air. Care for a walk?”

At my look, he snorted. “I know I don’t have to breathe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like being outside, now does it? Remember, I came from bush country—”

“Yeah, how long ago? You’ve been in the USA a long time, so you should be acclimated to city life, I’d think.” Razzing him, I slid into my jacket and followed him outside.

A few minutes later, we were standing on the porch steps. The storm had abated, the waning moon was out, and the air smelled oh so fresh and clean. The call of the water stirred my heart and I let my head drop back and inhaled deeply, my blood rising at the thought of the waves.

“You love it. You absolutely love it. The water, the salt in the air. I wish we could be nearer to the actual ocean back in Seattle. I see you like this and I feel guilty about keeping you in the city. But we’ll do everything we can to make it easier on you. I promise.” He paused. “I also . . . it turns me on to watch you when you’re caught up like that. There’s something sensuous about your look . . . wild and rapt and wanton.”

Our eyes met and he slowly reached out his hand. “Walk with me?” His voice was husky.

My breath in my throat, I extended my fingers to meet his and he curled his hand around mine. Turning, we silently walked down the porch steps and into the front yard. My heart was thudding so loudly in my chest I was surprised he couldn’t hear it, but if he did, he said nothing, just ran one finger lightly over my hand.

When we came to the Range Rover he paused, then unlocked the back. The windows were still taped over. He stopped, staring at the tarps. “What on earth?”

“Like we told you, we had to find a way to get you out of the house safely. Tonya covered the windows with heavy tarps, and Ralph and I wrapped you and Patrick from head to toe and hustled you into the back of the car to get you away from the fire. Then we drove you here in a hearse, in the body bags you were wearing.”

“You truly saved our lives.” Alex stared at the blacked-out windows a moment more, then slowly walked me against the back of the car, pressing his chest against my breasts. “There’s room in the back,” he said, his voice husky. “Tell me you want me. You have to be the one to make the final decision.”

Shivering, I could barely breathe. “Take me. Here. Now.”

Alex spun me to the side and yanked open the rear door. Then he boosted me in. Bracing one hand on the side, he leaped in with one swift, sure movement and shut the door behind us. It was pitch black, but he took a slim flashlight out of his pocket and flicked it on, setting it to the side. In the dim light, he looked feral, and I could see that his fangs were extended.

“Alex . . . I don’t want . . .”

“You don’t want me drinking your blood.”

“Not yet . . . maybe never. That has to be earned.” A bolt of fear shot through me. What if his predator couldn’t handle rejection? But then I stopped myself. I was a dragon. I might not be able to shift my form here, but I was damned strong. I could handle him if need be.

“Rules understood. My rule? No hard pointy things in the bed unless they’re attached to me.” With a rough laugh, he tumbled me back onto the pile of tarps, straddling me as he leaned down to lock his lips against mine. The feel of his tongue in my mouth, the scent of him and his chill touch, sent shock waves of hunger through my body, rippling in waves from my breasts to my pussy.

I moaned into his mouth, wanting more, so horny I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. I shifted position beneath him as he held me down with my arms stretched over my head. His lips traced my face as he kissed my eyes, my cheeks, my mouth, then moved down to lick my neck with one long, luxurious stroke.

“Oh, Shimmer . . .” Alex shuddered, and I realized he was smelling the blood racing through my body. His eyes were turning crimson and his fangs were out, but he kept his promise, fastening his lips to my throat to suck hard without breaking the skin.

I was growing wet, so wet, and I let out a growl as I squirmed, spreading my legs so he could fully lean between them. The bulge in his jeans was rock hard against my leg, and he laughed, grinding against me.

“You like that? Can you feel me, love? Can you feel how much I want you?”

Panting, I struggled to reach for the zipper on my jeans. “Yes, damn it. Let me out of these things.”

Alex pulled back and I unzipped my jeans, scrunching them down as he unbuckled his belt. In a frenzy, we were shedding our clothes, heedless of the cold, and then—we were naked, on our knees, staring at one another. I was panting heavily. His chest never rose, never fell, but his gaze was fastened on me and I could feel the hunger rising from both of us, like wild dogs hunting.

I slid into his arms, and his hands found my breasts, as I wrapped my fingers around his rock-hard cock. He moaned into my ear and then leaned down to lightly tug on my nipple with his teeth. A rising swell spread through my hips, making me ache as he flicked it with his tongue, then sucked hard—so hard that it almost hurt. I let out a cry as the ache spread through my body—the need to be touched and explored everywhere so strong that tears sprang to my eyes.

He drew me onto his lap, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as his cock hovered between my thighs. With one hand, he braced my back; with his other, he reached down to slide his fingers over my clit, pinching just hard enough to elicit another moan from my lips. I struggled, wanting him inside me, trying to slide forward, but he managed to hold me at bay as he toyed with me, slipping two fingers inside my pussy, which was so wet that he met no resistance at all.

“You like this, Shimmer? You want more?” The look on his face was one of triumph, of sheer delight as he locked my gaze.

I licked my lips, hungry and gasping as his touch set off a series of sparks, chaining like lightning through my body. “Yes, I want more. Please, fuck me. Please . . .” I struggled again, reaching for his hips, trying to urge him forward so there would be only one place he could go.

“Not yet. Oh, love, not quite yet.” And then he pushed me down so I was on my back again, and his head was between my legs. His lips found my clit, and with long strokes, he worried it with his tongue, swirling the nub—at first so gently I shrieked and struggled to get away from the insistent tickle. But he held my hips firmly, and then the tickle turned into a rougher stroke, and he lightly bit down. The sharp pain sliced through the grating tickle and sent me spiraling. I gasped, tears filling my eyes, but then he was sucking steadily, and the rhythm sent a shock wave through me as I came, sudden and unexpectedly, crying out.

But through it, he never stopped, continuing, and as soon as the dizzying wave passed, I was building up again, caught in a haze of hunger and need. I came again, and once again as he plunged two fingers inside me with his lips still fastened to my clit. Then, he pushed himself up. As I propped myself up on my elbows, panting, he grabbed my wrist and flipped me over. I was on my hands and knees and he began kissing my back, trailing his lips down over the curve of my ass. Wrung out, drenched with sweat and so caught up in the hunger that was still not satisfied, I could feel nothing but the sensation of his touch.

And then, I felt him, parting the lips of my vagina with his fingers, spreading them wide as he plunged the head of his cock—hard and icy cold and thick—inside me just enough to tease me. He held it there, just stretching the lips, and the pressure in my stomach threatened to overwhelm me. Then, with one long, hard stroke, he drove himself deep, his thrust so hard it pushed me forward. I moaned, leaning down so that my butt was in the air and my breasts were pressed against the bed of the Range Rover.

“Fuck me, Alex . . . fuck me hard.”

“Oh, yes, love. I’ll give it to you as hard as you want.” He grunted and drove forward, so deep in me that he was up to the hilt, and I could feel his balls slap against the back of my ass. With every thrust, I let out another cry, as I reached down with one hand to finger my clit. I rubbed, hard, as Alex continued to pump, the girth of his cock thick enough to stretch me wide. I let him set the pace, meeting his strokes with my own rocking.

As I lost myself in the fucking, the air grew thick with moisture. I could feel it in my lungs, against my skin. I was close—so close again. I rubbed my clit furiously. “Harder, harder . . . please . . .”

Alex groaned, his pace picking up as he drove himself over and over again into my body. “I’m going to come, baby. I’m close—”

I squeezed my clit at the moment he gave one final thrust, the head of his cock barreling deep. As he shouted, still pumping against me, I let go, spiraling into the tidal wave that swept through my body; the orgasm sent me into a fit of laughter and tears. Spent, Alex leaned against my back, still inside me. His skin remained icy cool but it felt good against the heat and sweat that covered me.

The next moment, I felt a gentle rain against my skin—soft droplets that swirled through the back of the car, softly falling against us.

“What? It’s raining . . .” Alex pushed himself to the side, rolling onto his back. “Look!” His voice was filled with almost a wonderment as he pointed to the ceiling of the car.

I nestled in his arm as the dew covered us with mist and shimmering droplets and looked up. There, against the metal, was a swirling pattern, coiling like scrollwork, in sparkling blue and silver.

“I think . . . I think I caused this. My magic—Alex, my water magic. But it’s never happened before like this . . . And I’ve had a lot of sex through the years. Mostly casual encounters, but—”

“Shush. Just accept it as something beautiful.” Alex stopped my words with a kiss. He kissed me deeply, gently, and then—as we watched in silence—the pattern faded and vanished.

•   •   •

“How bad is Patrick’s house, truly?” Alex stared into the dark street. We were dressed again, sitting on the tail end of the Range Rover. There wasn’t much to say at this point about our tryst, and I had the feeling we were both privately processing our feelings about what had just happened.

“Not good. The house isn’t totally trashed—it’s not like there isn’t anything left, but it’s not going to be ready for the public anytime soon, spirits or not. If he doesn’t get rid of that forest wight, I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to sell the land. With the Gypsy curse bungling up finances, until we deal with all aspects of this problem, your friend Patrick might as well just walk away and abandon it if he decides he doesn’t want to go through with the bed-and-breakfast idea.”

“And you think . . . you and Tonya and Ralph . . . that we can tackle this?”

“I don’t know. We were about to discuss that when you two woke up and joined us. At least we found the murder weapon that killed Lacy. And if Toby’s DNA proves she’s a Buckland, we’ll have some form of identification for her.”

“Will that change anything, though? It won’t punish her murderer—he, or she, is probably long dead.”

“I know.” I caught Alex’s gaze again and held it. “But don’t you think she deserves a name? That she deserves to be recognized as someone other than a Jane Doe?”

He pressed his lips together, then turned to lean back against the car and stare up at the sky. A few stars were creeping through the cloud cover, twinkling down through the chilly night.

“Names mean a lot to you.” It was a simple statement, but it made my cheeks flush.

“Yes, they do. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a name.”

“You’re Shimmer, love. Isn’t that a name? And it fits you, you know. It fit you tonight.” He reached out to stroke my cheek as he smiled, but I couldn’t return this one. The subject hit too close to home.

“Alex, you know . . . you know that I don’t have a name in the Book of Records. I’m listed as Shimmer, under the Lost and Foundling Registry, but I have no existence in the lineage of the Dragon Reaches. My mother didn’t give me a name; therefore . . . I don’t exist. I’m illegitimate simply by the fact that my parents are unknown. Until I find out who they were, I’ll never have a respectable standing among my people.”

And there it was in a nutshell. I didn’t exist to the dragons in the Dragon Reaches, not in any proper manner. I wasn’t suitable, or regarded in any fashion. I was lower than the lowest caste . . . A name meant everything—a proper dragon name, given in secret with only the mother and child ever knowing what it was.

“There’s part of me missing, Alex. I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels like there’s a part of me that was left unborn the day of my birth. My clutch mates probably feel the same way, but I have no idea who they are or where they’d be . . . or even how many of us there were. The Lost and Foundling won’t tell you that—they won’t let you ever meet your siblings. They think it might promote rebellious attitudes. So I don’t even know if I have any brothers or sisters.”

Alex looked about ready to say something when headlights blinded us as another car pulled in. Glad I’d pulled myself together, I shaded my eyes from the lights till the car pulled up close enough for us to see that it was a police cruiser. Officer Paris again. She waved to us, a tight but friendly wave. We wandered over to her.

“Hey, Shimmer. I have some news. Can we go inside? It’s a little cold out here for me.” She shivered and I realized again just how fragile humans could be.

Tonya looked up as we entered, and pushed her book back. She offered Paris a chair.

Paris sat down but refused the coffee Tonya offered her. “Thanks, but I can’t stay long. I wanted you to know tonight, though. The hammer checks out as the murder weapon. As for whether Lacy Buckland left the area, records are so spotty that there’s no real way for us to check. But I asked Mable down at the library—she runs the local genealogy club—if she could do some hunting around. She’s on the case with her group.” Paris leaned back with a soft smile and looked around.

“Wonderful. I don’t know what they can dig up, but the family-tree clubs tend to yield a lot of good information.” Alex gave her a nod. “I’ve gone to them for cases in the past.”

“They do, at that, and Mable? Avid researcher. She’ll find anything if there’s anything to be found. But there’s another reason I came over tonight. I was hoping Mr. Strand would be here.” She looked around. “Is he here? I don’t see Ralph, either.”

“No, they went to the store, but they should be back soon.”

“Unfortunately, I really can’t wait. I have to question someone about a burglary investigation. I’ll tell you, and you can tell Patrick. The inspector found a frayed wire in the wall that led to the fire. Nothing suspicious about it—just . . . old house, old wiring. They’ve forwarded the information to the insurance agency.” She stood and put her hat back on. “Give my regards to everyone else and have a good evening.” And then she was out the door.

I looked over at Tonya. “Nothing suspicious, my ass. I know that the forest wight started that fire.”

“Oh, I’m with you on that,” she said. “But I’m glad it shook out this way. Patrick won’t have a hard time with his insurance in getting money for repairs. That could be problematic if the report had listed suspicious activity—they might think he was torching his own place.” Tonya shrugged. “We know it was the forest wight; the insurance company doesn’t need to.”

“True enough. It’s not like there’s much they can do about it. And it seems there might not be much we can do about it, either.” Antsy, I reached for the bowl of chips Tonya had put on the sideboard and began to aimlessly munch my way through them. “Is there somebody . . . anybody . . . around here who might know more about these creatures?”

Tonya crooked her eyebrows. “Funny you should ask. I was just thinking we should talk to Degoba Jones. If anybody can help us, it will be him.” She pulled out her cell phone.

“Who’s that?” Alex leaned over and sniffed the chips. “Do you know that as long as I’ve lived, I’ve never had a chance to taste a potato chip? They weren’t around when I was turned. Always liked the way they sound, though.”

“You aren’t missing a lot. They’re filled with carbs and really greasy. Degoba is his nickname—I’m not even sure anybody knows what his real name is. He’s a local legend. His mother was from one of the Salish tribes. Grew up over in the Quinault area. Degoba is the man to ask about local myths, creatures, urban legends from the area. He stores up stories like a vacuum sucks up dirt.” She was on her phone the next minute, calling him.

Ralph and Patrick chose that moment to tromp back through the door. They were carrying several bags of groceries, though Patrick’s turned out to mostly be bottled blood. He’d also bought a bouquet of flowers for Tonya, as a thank-you gift. She motioned for him to put them on the counter while she finished her phone call.

Ralph emptied a bag filled with more chips, chocolate, cookies, and crackers on the counter, along with a couple six-packs of Flying Horse. I stared at the energy drink and the image of a puppy on espresso crossed my mind, but I repressed the urge to snicker. Ralph didn’t need me cutting his ego by suggesting he was still a wolf cub.

Tonya hung up. “Degoba said to come on over in an hour. He’s just finishing his dinner now. Wow, Ralph, you really have an appetite.”

He motioned to the pile. “Both you and Shimmer, feel free to dig in. I bought this for all three of us. Just leave my Flying Horse alone.” His grin was infectious.

“I don’t think you have much to worry about in that capacity.” I picked up a package of beef jerky and opened it, sliding a couple of the pieces out into my hand. “So, this Degoba Jones . . . he’ll believe us about what’s happening?

“Oh, he’ll believe us. That thing I told you about, that I met in the battery? Degoba was the first person I trusted to talk about it. He didn’t say much but warned me to stay away from the area. I have a feeling he knew what it was but didn’t want to scare me at that point.” She set her book off to the side so no one could spill crumbs on it and meandered over to the counter, where she picked up the bag of oatmeal cookies. “Let’s go relax in the living room till it’s time to go over to his house. We all need a little time-out and we can tell Patrick the good news—such as it is.”

We followed her in and, once we were all curled up on the sofa and in her armchairs, we told Patrick and Ralph what Paris had said. Patrick looked more relieved than anything else.

“I don’t care if Puff the Magic Dragon flew down and lit the thing on fire, I’m just glad the actual cause of record is something that I can collect on. I’m beginning to hate that house. That sucks, actually, because I loved it when I bought it. It seemed like the perfect getaway . . .” He stared morosely at the bottle of blood in his hand, and I thought it was a good thing vampires couldn’t get drunk because if he could, he’d probably be plowing through the bottles.

“So, this Degoba Jones . . .” Ralph leaned forward. “He’s good at what he does? He’s a shaman?”

“I don’t know that I’d call him that.” Tonya leaned back and put her feet up on the ottoman. She frowned. “He’s . . . he can work energy, though he won’t talk much about it. But he’s . . . I think he’s a spiritwalker.”

“What’s a spiritwalker?” I had never heard the term, and both Patrick and Ralph looked confused. Alex, on the other hand, was nodding.

“We had them in Australia. They walk connected to the land in a way that isn’t witchcraft, nor is it some woo-woo white-light and fluff-bunny business. They are so keyed into the land around them that they might as well be part of it. Half the time they can blend into the landscape so well, you’d think they could turn invisible.”

“I’m not sure they can’t.” Tonya wrapped her knees beneath her, tucking a light throw around her shoulders. The room wasn’t cold, but the winter chill still hung in the air. “Degoba won’t tell anybody about his birth, where he came from, or how old he is. I’d place him around fifty, but you never can tell, especially with someone in touch with magic.”

“Is he married? Family?” Ralph was on his second Flying Horse. He’d already had a couple venti cups of coffee and if I didn’t know how much caffeine the werewolf normally downed during the day, I’d be worried about him. But I knew he could handle it.

“Not that I know of. If he ever did have a wife and kids, he never speaks about them. We can figure out our next step after talking to him.” She shuddered. “Why do I have a feeling it may lead to a trip to the battery?”

A shiver ran up my spine as I remembered the pictures. It looked bad enough during the daylight. Visiting at night, even with two vampires in the mix? Not exactly what I would call a good time.

“Pretend you didn’t say that and maybe it won’t happen. That place looks as welcoming as a black hole. Worse, in fact, because most black holes don’t have any consciousness. This one seems to.” I finished off the package of jerky and reached over to snag a couple cookies from her.

Right about then, there was a rustle in the air next to me and Chai shimmered into view. He coughed and looked around, clearly confused. “Um, when last we spoke, wasn’t I in somebody else’s house? The vampire’s?” He spotted Patrick and gave him a wave. “His house?”

“Yeah, there was a fire. The ghost set the curtains on fire and we had to . . . oh, never mind, it’s convoluted and was one horrendous headache but the upshot is, we’re staying here with Tonya. And in about twenty minutes, we’re heading out to meet a . . . what did you call him, Tonya?”

She shook her head. “Spiritwalker. That’s what he calls himself, so that’s what I call him.”

Chai scratched his head, then shrugged and cautiously eased himself down on one end of the sofa. He was a big man—djinn—and I knew that he was always a little touchy about furniture and whether it would hold his weight.

We puttered for a few more minutes, making small talk, but everybody was antsy. The energy of the town was odd—isolated. It covered us like a soft shroud that seemed to cut off the rest of the world.

Finally, as if sensing we needed to be on the move, Tonya stood. “It’s almost eight. We can stop at Rayhill’s Espresso on the way over.”

We trooped out to the cars, sorting out that Patrick would ride with Tonya, and the four of us—Chai, Alex, Ralph, and I—would follow in the Range Rover. I stared up at the sky. The clouds parted briefly, and the icy shimmer of stars glittered down, cold and distant.

I climbed in the passenger seat, hoping to hell Degoba would have some answers for us. Alex put the car into gear and we eased onto the silent street behind Tonya, inching our way through the low-rolling mist that shrouded the road. The stars vanished as another army of clouds rolled in, ready to lay siege to the city. The feel of the rain-soaked air set in, and I shivered as the sound of a foghorn echoed mournfully in the distance. All around us, I could feel creatures hidden in the shadows, and they watched us as we crawled down the road. Not all of them were friendly, and some of them felt downright dangerous. The land here was old, and humans were young, and the creatures lurking in the shadows knew that they were truly the ones at the top of the totem pole. Sometimes, Earthside seemed even more daunting than the Dragon Reaches.