I wasn’t expecting him to get back to me right away, but a reply popped up on the screen while I was scanning over some of the other topics. I was a little too afraid to click on the thread about me, but the ones discussing the White Hats and the “friendly agents”—people sympathetic to Others—might be useful to peruse later. The message from Hawk was short and sweet, but gave me hope.
ZOMG! Thought you were dead! Lots of people looking for you, including popo and the big fanged kahuna in NYC.You sure know how to piss people off. I’ll see what we can dig up. Might take a couple days if he’s hiding, but we’ve found him before. We can do it again.
That was more than I expected. I sent him a thank-you note in reply and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The Nightstrikers might not be competent hunters, but they had connections to Others that I was lacking as long as I avoided Royce.
‘You don’t need the vampire,’ the belt snapped.
I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother with a response.
With some regret—for as much as I wanted to, it would be dangerous to send e-mails to my mother or Arnold or anyone else who might be missing me—I pushed away from the desk, thanking Keith, who gave me a brief wave without looking away from his monitor. There was maybe an hour left before sunrise, and the belt was radiating an antsy need to work off some residual energy. Detective Smith was probably asleep, but it couldn’t hurt to leave him a voice mail directing him to leave a message for me with Sara if he’d come across any info. I needed to check on her anyway. I hadn’t had any contact with her since I had fled Royce’s apartment building.
Leaving Sara behind hadn’t been an easy decision, but I couldn’t afford to bring her any deeper into my mess. She didn’t have the benefit of the belt or magic or training as a fighter, so I couldn’t risk bringing her along with me when I left. Hiding her among Royce’s people seemed like a good idea at the time, but I had no idea how he was treating her or what he had done with her since then. It had been a worry in the back of my mind for days, but I hadn’t wanted to contact Royce in case he might trace my whereabouts or somehow figure out where I was hiding.
Running briskly through the neighborhood was peaceful, surrounded by the scent of the ocean and the whispery rattle of autumn leaves. It had the added benefit of taking the edge off the belt’s need for an adrenaline rush. The trench coat hid my weapons, and the armor was sufficient for keeping me out of harm’s way, but it wasn’t a great substitute for a turtleneck and some sweatpants. I stopped when I reached the Pelham Cemetery on King Avenue, glancing around to make sure I wasn’t being watched.
No one was awake at this hour to see my intrusion into the domain of the dead, and it seemed a fitting place to make my call. Ignoring the PRIVATE PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING sign, I slid over the black wrought iron fence. The headstones loomed in the darkness, lit by little more than moonlight and a few distant lights from a nearby marina.
Passing a tall, blue-white spire dedicated to someone named Jennings, I crouched in the dead grass by a thick shrub to minimize my visibility to anyone who might happen to drive by or look out his or her window. No one to see me here but any lingering ghosts. The salt sea breeze laced with smells of gasoline and old fish stung my nose, and the biting cold seemed worse here, this close to the water. Shivering, I dialed the cell phone number I had committed to memory that had been scrawled on the back of the cop’s card, figuring I’d leave a message. The detective surprised me by picking up after a couple rings.
“Hello?”
“Detective Smith? It’s Shiarra Waynest.”
There was a very lengthy pause before he answered. “It’s good to know you’re alive. I’m surprised you called.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have if I could have avoided it. I don’t suppose you know why some of your fellow boys in blue tried to pull me in for questioning, do you?”
“Someone very high up wants to get their hands on you. First it was just for questioning as a witness in the disappearances and murders. Running made you a suspect.” That sent a thrill of fear down my spine. My grip tightened on the phone, and I had to lean against a nearby tree for balance while he continued talking. “Wherever you’re hiding, you’re doing a good job. Stay there, and keep your head down. We’ve managed arrests on a couple of the Weres who were involved, but most of them are still at large, and you and your friend are still in danger. Plus, you’re the only witness in our case against the Sunstrikers who’s still alive. I know you didn’t do it, and I need you to close this damned case, so stay out of downtown as much as you can.”
“Okay. Shit.”
“Yeah. By the way, your ex and his cronies are doing a better job of hiding than you are. I don’t suppose you might have given him some tips on where to hide? So far we haven’t been able to track down any of the men you indicated were involved. Have you and Ms. Halloway had any run-ins?”
I wasn’t about to tell him I’d been searching for Chaz and Dillon, too. Disappointing, since he’d already essentially answered the question I’d been intending to ask him. Then his last question registered. “Sorry, what? I haven’t, but—hasn’t Sara been keeping in touch with you?”
“Not since the phone call a couple weeks ago. I assumed she was with you since both of you fell off the radar after one of our officers jumped the gun and tried to take you in. Are you saying she isn’t with you?”
I cursed softly. “No. No, she’s not with me, but she’s safe.” I really, really hoped that wasn’t a lie. God damn Royce. Whatever the vampire had done to Sara, I’d make him repay a thousandfold.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough time to pay him a visit before sunrise. Without the belt, during the day I’d be at a bigger disadvantage than he would.
“Wherever it is, it better be safer than Fort Knox. The vampires in the city have been withdrawing their assistance from any programs that support Weres since that girl was killed—Trish Booker, the CEO of that genetics research corporation—and there have been a few skirmishes. Killing someone who was contracted to Alec Royce wasn’t smart. I just hope we get to the person responsible before the vampire does.”
And I hoped I would get to him before the police or the vampire did.
“Anyway, check in with me again in a couple days if you can. Stay low and keep out of trouble, and I’ll keep you posted on how the investigation is coming along.”
As soon as I hung up, I dialed Royce’s cell phone, also from memory. I was startled when it was answered by a woman. Using a very throaty, just-had-sex voice. A voice I had zero patience for dealing with at the moment.
None of my business. None whatsoever. I silently repeated that to myself a few times while I asked, “Is Royce there?”
“He’s occupied at the moment. Who is this?”
I gritted my teeth when I recognized her. Miss Sunshine herself. “Jessica, please don’t play games with me. This is Shiarra. I need to talk to him. Now.”
“Oh! Oh, yes. Hold on one sec.”
It seemed “one sec” meant, as usual, an age and a half for Royce to deign to talk to me. Staring over the water, listening to the monotone lapping of the surf didn’t sooth my nerves at all. Once he finally got around to it, the vampire sounded about as thrilled to talk to me as I was to call him.
“Ms. Waynest. What a surprise.”
“What have you done with Sara?”
“That’s it? No hello? No ‘terribly sorry for throwing your hospitality back in your face and all the inconvenience I’ve caused you despite your generosity’? Not even a ‘I have a really good explanation for my actions, I swear’?” I could almost visualize him doing talky hands at the phone while he assumed a higher tone to mimic my voice. He did a rather scarily accurate imitation, actually. If I hadn’t been so red from embarrassment at his statements, I might have laughed at the sheer incongruity of the thought of him doing something so absurd. It didn’t help that I could hear Jessica giggling in the background. Damn it.