“Gorgeous jacket. Isaac does good work.” The cherry red blazer was one Dawna’d had for a year or so, a designer original we’d picked up at an outlet store for a song. It still looked the same to the casual eye. But my eye wasn’t casual. “Just at a glance, I’d say he gave you some room under the arms for extra stakes or knives and flared the back so you could draw the guns. Anything else?”
She smiled and flipped up the collar to reveal a rosary attached to the fabric with Velcro. Cute. “Added backup in case there are two.”
I nodded and watched the traffic while I tried to figure out how to ask my next question. “Have there been occasions lately that would call for added backup?”
There was silence in the seat next to me for so long that I finally looked over at her when I could spare a glance. Her lips were tight together and her eyes stared at nothing while tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Dawna?”
I could smell her pain, could hear it in her voice. “Last week I decided I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich for supper from that new little restaurant down the street. They use three different cheeses and you can pick your bread. You know the one?”
I did, so I nodded.
“It was dark by the time I left because I got caught up in a magazine article. I didn’t think much about it. I’ve been doing better about being alone at night. I was almost back to my car when I heard a voice whisper from a doorway. It said, You should have died with her. It took a minute to sink in, y’know? But then I heard it again, from way up high when there was nothing high around to perch on. It scared me, Celia. It felt like I was being stalked. It … made me remember … and—” She couldn’t go on. I couldn’t pull over on the freeway to give her a hug. So I reached across the car and put a comforting hand on the back of her neck.
I took a deep breath and let it out slow. Stalking and scary. I knew all about both. “Will the blazer make you feel safe?”
She nodded. “It does already.”
“So Isaac taught you how to use the stakes?” It was a loaded question and maybe it was evident in my voice. Because Isaac doesn’t do classes.
She shrugged and sounded confused. “They’re stakes. What’s to learn?”
I winced internally but only let her see my nod. “Do me a favor. Hit my arm. Really punch it.”
She frowned but obeyed. I barely felt the tap. I put on the blinker to turn into the office parking lot. “Again. Really put your shoulder into it.”
Dawna shrugged and punched again. She hit me with what I think she believed was force, because she wound up grimacing and shaking her hand like it hurt. “Damn, girlfriend. Your bicep is like a rock. There isn’t enough room in here to budge it.”
I parked the car and turned in my seat so I could watch her face. “And that’s just plain muscle. Not bone. Now imagine trying to push those two-inch-wide stakes under your arm through to the other side of my arm with a single blow, with the same amount of working space. Trust me. You would barely have made it through the skin.”
What I was trying to tell her finally sank in and the fear returned in a wash that paled her skin. “But I thought—”
I touched her arm. “Everybody does. It’s okay. Really. People buy the stakes but have no idea what to do with them. You might get lucky and wound a bat and make it run just from the smell of the wood, but if you really want to protect yourself, you have to learn how to actually use them.” It was obvious this was really important to her. It might have been a suggestion from her therapist that she get some protection to ease her mind. “If you want to learn how, I’d be happy to teach you.”
Her face brightened. “Would you? Really? That would be … well, amazing!”
She meant it, which sort of surprised me. It could mean that she really didn’t have a grasp of what I was offering. Still, she was my best friend. I’d do everything in my power to make sure she felt confident to handle bats. If she was right and some vampire had targeted her because they thought she’d betrayed Lilith … well, that was a whole new ball game. “Come by my house tonight around eight and bring whatever you want to learn more about, including those charm disks. You need to see what they do in controlled circumstances.”
“Tonight? Couldn’t we do it now?”
It made me laugh as I was unbuckling my seat belt. “Well, you need to get back to the office and I need to get over to the college. I need to talk to Dr. Sloan about the entity at the FBI office. I’d hoped to sound like I’d at least read his book, but I’ll just have to own up to not having done my ‘homework.’” I gave a rueful grin. “But oh hell, it’s Friday afternoon.”
“No classes?”
“No classes. And I don’t have my car. Crap.”
Dawna looked at the building and it was obvious she didn’t want to go back inside. She was probably noticing that there were more cars than usual in the lot. Someone had even parked in my reserved spot, so I’d had to take the last free space. I’ve never understood that tendency of people to ignore signs and bright yellow letters against black pavement. But they do, and then look surprised when you confront them. “Is it two o’clock?” Her voice sounded annoyed, bordering on bitter.
I glanced at my watch. “Quarter ’til.”
Her nose wrinkled. “It’s the French settlement conference. Big, angry family who are fighting over Mommy’s million-dollar estate. That’ll be a pleasant meeting, I’m sure. It sure won’t be quiet. I didn’t sign on to this job to be a combination nanny and bouncer.”
I didn’t bite on that bait, because in my mind, that’s pretty much what a receptionist is. And I know Dawna knows that. She’s said it herself more than once. “You’re just cranky because you’ve been up too long.”
“You’re probably right.” She climbed out of the car. I made a motion to toss back her keys, but she stopped me with a gesture. “I’ve got a date tonight anyway. I’d have canceled for the lessons, but I’d rather not. You’re going to need it to get home. I can pick it up later.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. No problema.” She pasted a smile on her face and started across the lot. I was right behind her for the first couple of steps, but then my cell rang. When she paused, as if to wait, I waved her on. It sounded like they really needed her in there.
I pressed the button, answering, “Graves.”
“Take the job!” I couldn’t put a name to the panicked voice on the other end of the line, but it sounded familiar. It wasn’t someone I spoke to regularly, but I’d spoken to him before, and recently.
“You have to take the job,”he pleaded. “You have to. Her psychic told her that she had to get you out of the way if this was going to work. She won’t kill you if you just leave.”
“Who is this? What job?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea about the last part.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sanchez is dead. Marjorie’s in the hospital. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, too.” He was sobbing, now. “Please. Just take the job.” He hung up before I could say anything else.
I was cold, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outdoors. Sanchez is dead. Marjorie is in the hospital. The only Sanchez I’d run into lately was the principal at Abe Lincoln, and Marjorie was the name of the secretary I’d given the business card with my cell number to. The caller could have been Jamisyn. Or maybe the vice principal … what was his name anyway? But I was betting on Jamisyn. We’d talked, and he actually had seemed to like me.