I snorted. The Brothers Grimm had nothing on her fairy tales. “So come and get me.”
“Uh-uh-uh,” she sang, and I could practically see her blond ponytail swinging. “You made a bargain with the devil when you let me go. I told you where Joaquin would be, now you have to do something I want.”
I squinted into the boneyard as if that would bring Regan into view. “You knew he’d be untouchable at Master Comics. That’s the only reason you told me he was there.”
“Untrue. For example, I know where he is now, and it’s not neutral territory. In fact, I can see him from here. He’s standing right in front of Valhalla, watching a blond woman take in the fireworks…you see those, don’t you?”
“I see them,” I said, looking into the sky, my voice a near whisper.
“Good. Well this blond looks…well, she looks a lot like you, actually. He’s been stalking her through the crowd. I recognize that look in his eye, and his scent is on the wind, despite the stink of the fireworks. It’s sweet and earthy at the same time, like caramel charring on the barbecue, and fat worms tunneling up from the grave.”
I closed my eyes. It was a good description. He smelled just like that.
“You can probably stop him if you hurry, Joanna. You can save this girl from being another headline in tomorrow’s paper, and do it while exacting your own revenge. But you should hurry, he’s already talking to her. She’s smiling up at him, forgetting the show in the sky, even forgetting her friends beside her.”
But I couldn’t hurry. Not only was I not supposed to leave the boneyard, it was past dusk. And by the time dawn arrived, I knew that woman would be long dead. Regan knew it too. So, as the fiery crescendo of the show’s finale erupted above us, all I said was, “Fuck you.”
Regan responded with false surprise. “There’s only one reason I can think of that an agent of Light wouldn’t try to save an innocent. You went back to your sanctuary, didn’t you, Joanna? Even after I told you not to.” She clucked into the receiver like she was scolding a young child. “Well. Now you’ve done it. Though I suppose you still have a chance…if you get out of there as soon as possible.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, watching the sky like the answer was being written out there.
“Meet me outside Valhalla at dawn. I’ll tell you then.”
“I can’t,” I said, and felt a very unheroic sense of relief at that. It was all I could do not to add, I won’t.
“Ah well.” Regan sighed dramatically, before that tinkling laughter sounded over the line again. “That’s all right, Joanna…we’re already in.”
And the connection went dead.
I blinked and looked at the phone, then slowly dropped it to my side. The fireworks had stopped, and long wisps of smoke, like dragons’ tails, were all that lingered in the sky. Even the haze along the streets was fading away. But as I stared out into the warm, bleary night, I swallowed hard and let out an audible moan.
What had I missed? I wondered, covering my mouth with a shaking hand. Worse, what had I done?
13
The sanctuary exploded with sound just before dawn. I took a jagged path toward awareness, fits and starts of comprehension battling the fatigue brought on by my sessions with Tekla and the alcohol I’d drunk earlier. Footsteps pounded in the hall, and the strobe light above my door fired light in half circles across the concrete walls of my room, left to right, then back again, while emitting a high-pitched whine that had my teeth clenching hard. As soon as my feet hit the floor, the screeching mercifully stopped, but if I were to lie down again, it would start right back up.
Not that I would. The strobe was a part of an emergency system notifying the troop to assemble. Something had happened on the streets of Las Vegas, something bad enough that those on patrol tonight weren’t able to contain it alone. I lifted my chemise over my head and yanked on the tank top and jeans I’d let drop to the floor only hours earlier, pulling my hair back without brushing it. I did take the time to pull on sneakers, then grabbed my conduit on the run.
The briefing room was at the mouth of the barracks, its location chosen for emergencies such as this, and as fast as I’d been, most of the others were already there. Nobody else, I realized, had bothered to get dressed. Warren stood at the front of the room, barefoot and in sweats, along with Micah and Tekla, who-though robed as crisply as ever-looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. They were bent together, obviously arguing, so I joined Vanessa and Jewell at a table near the back, while Felix and Riddick sat hunch-backed in front of us, heads close, whispering back and forth. Hunter was working the grave shift tonight, I remembered, catching myself scanning the room for him, and Gregor was on patrol in his cab, but a moment later the door opened again and Chandra entered. She seated herself directly across from Jewell, running her hand over her short, uncombed hair, and turned to Vanessa without glancing at me.
“What’s happened?” she asked, before I had a chance.
“Multiple attacks on innocents,” Vanessa said, lifting her head to the front of the room to indicate she’d been eavesdropping. She was still in her pajamas, long curls springing from her head in a thousand opposing directions. It made it difficult to concentrate on her face, though her words were dark enough to make me. “All in different parts of the city, but same method, and nearly in unison. Warren thinks it was timed. The attacks all began after dusk.”
“How do we know it’s the work of the Shadows, and not another mortal?” Jewell sagged against her chair, and nervousness had her knotting her fingers together. This would be her first real test as the Gemini of Light since her sister’s death. I too looked to Vanessa for the answer.
“Because it’s too widespread…and they’re dying in groups, mostly pairs.”
“Pairs?” I said, speaking for the first time. “Has that ever happened before?”
“No,” Warren answered loudly, and that was how he called the meeting to order. Micah took his seat, and Tekla moved to the right of Warren’s shoulder, watching him gravely. “It seems the Shadows have been saving it all up for this one go.”
Warren’s eyes flickered my way, then quickly away, though I’d been careful to keep my expression blank. Now didn’t seem like the time for I told you so’s.
It seemed Gregor had gotten a blip on his police scanner after dusk the previous night. It sounded like nothing more than a domestic dispute at first; a husband and wife had been killed in their bedroom, and police were sending in a forensic unit to investigate. Gregor changed the channel. About fifteen minutes later, another call came in.
“He thought it was the same call,” Warren said, “a man and woman found dead in their bedroom, but then the dispatcher said it had a similar M.O. as the one on Bridger, and that was the one he’d heard earlier.”
So the mortal police suspected a serial killer, and Gregor began to as well, though one of a different sort. He drove past the site of the first incident, but picked up no scent of Shadows, and was quickly shooed away by police. Ditto the second crime scene.
“So what convinced him he was right?” Jewell asked, looking up from the pad where she’d been taking notes.
“The scanner itself. Homicides began being reported almost like clockwork, every quarter of an hour, then every five minutes, then one right on top of another. All were at residences in the core of the valley. Then the reports began coming in from the clubs.”
“Strip clubs?” Felix asked. Under different circumstances I’d have teased him about that-masquerading as a frat boy, he was most familiar with those establishments-but there was nothing joking in his tone, and I glanced back at Warren to find him just as serious. Exactly how many victims had been found? I wondered.