2 Sean Hayden (25 page)

There was anguish and fear in his eyes as he stared at my face. I looked on in disgust without an iota of guilt. There wasn't much holding the remainder of his head on his body and I quickly tore through that and held my prize above me like a gruesome trophy.

His body began to dissolve beneath me and disappeared back into the smoke from which it had been formed. I looked up at the head in my hands and once again it was just a skull. It had no jaw this time, but it looked old and rotted like before the whole mess started. I dropped it where I sat and ran to my fallen partner.

He had changed back to human form and I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. I started to panic until I saw his chest rise and he filled his lungs with air. His eyes opened and he smiled at me. "Did you get him?"

"Ripped his fucking head off after I thought he killed you."

"Next time, do it before he kicks my ass, would you?"

"You got it, old man."

Chapter 24

As soon as I'd killed whatever it was, the barriers between the ballroom and the rest of the world collapsed. The humans took off running in a panic-filled frenzy. I'm surprised no one got hurt on the way out. The vampires on the other hand, stayed behind to help those who had received near fatal injuries and mourn the one dead, the master of Bakersfield.

Greer had planned on killing every master of every city in the State of California. He only succeeded in driving them together. I almost pitied the man if they ever got a hold of him.

The EMT's came and carted Thompson off to the hospital. He'd live, and he wouldn't be paralyzed, but they wanted to have the hospital test him for nerve and bone damage. Even though he's a lycanthrope, neck injuries can be dangerous and tricky.

I waved goodbye as they pulled away. I wanted to go with them, but
somehow
I ended up in charge. Thompson placed one phone call to the Deputy Director and every FBI agent in the area that wasn't already at the governor's mansion showed up with their guns drawn and badges out. Even Connors, the Special Agent in Charge of the Sacramento Field Office arrived and asked what I needed from him. Personally, I just wanted to go to bed and cry.

They brought in the local P.D. to take statements, help with the investigation, and basically keep everyone, including the press, away. They even had one of their practicing sorcerers inspecting the remnants of the skull that had been the cause of the whole thing. I wanted to know where Greer got it and learned how to use it. That thing needed to be packed in a wooden crate labeled "TOP SECRET" and buried in a warehouse next to the Ark of the Covenant. Talk about a nasty piece of work.

The police sorcerer knelt on the floor in front of it, not touching it, afraid of triggering it. I described to him in detail what happened and how I killed whatever came out. He wasn't convinced it was dead, merely trapped again by the magic of the skull. Since I had absolutely no desire to ever fight the damn thing again, I couldn't blame him.

"What do you think?" I was standing behind him and winced when he jumped.

"It's old, whatever it is."

"How old?"

"Without someone carbon dating it, I couldn't hazard a guess. It's just a feeling I'm getting from it, old and evil."

"Yeah, I figured that one out when he ripped the vampire apart. Any idea on what it was?"

"I can give you my theory, but I have no way to prove any of it."

"What's your theory?"

"The skull belonged to whatever is trapped inside, that I'm pretty sure of. Here's the part I'm theorizing. The skull can be activated, don't ask me how because I don't know. It sets up a trap that keeps whoever is within a certain area there until they touch the skull. Once they do, the boogey man inside comes a calling. He either kills you, or you kill it and then it goes back to being a skull. It's all very bad juju."

"Juju?"

"Magic at its most primitive, sometimes it can be more deadly than meticulously crafted spells. Sometimes it can be done through an innate ability, but more often than not, it's done through some sort of sacrifice."

"When you say sacrifice, why do I get the feeling you don't mean giving up chocolate for a week?"

"Because you're smart and beautiful, and I can't believe I just said that. I'm sorry. Sacrifice as in blood or more likely a life, in this case."

"Yummy." I shook my head in disgust. A disruption at the door made me turn my head from the Sacramento P.D.'s resident sorcerer and stand on my tippy-toes to see what was going on. Several large men and one short blonde woman were arguing heatedly with Connors by the entrance to the ballroom. I would have let him handle it, but he pointed in my direction and they started heading directly to me. They all wore very plain black suits, so it couldn't be good.

"Can I help you?" They stopped about a foot from me. I looked around at all of them, trying to figure out who had the honor of being in charge.

"Are you Agent Ashlyn?" The blonde stood only a few inches taller than me so I didn't have to look up to speak to her.

"Yes, is there something I can do for you?"

"I'm Agent Carolyn Walters, Secret Service. We're here to collect that," She pointed at the skull at the feet of the resident sorcerer who had stood when the company arrived.

"But I haven't finished examining it," the sorcerer spoke up indignantly.

"Yes, you have," Walters said snidely. I didn't like her. Not even a little.

"Both of you can wait while I check with the Deputy Director. Could you give us a moment?" Sorcerer or not, I didn't want to get into a pissing match with the Secret Service in front of him. I pulled my new cell phone from my purse and dialed Sanders. He picked up on the third ring.

"Agent Ashlyn, is everything okay?"

"No, sir, it's not. I have several agents of the Secret Service here to collect a piece that is part of my investigation."

"Yes, I know. Thompson filled me in about it. The Secret Service is responsible for dangerous magical artifacts, so there's not much I can do. How much time do you need?"

"Thirty minutes sir, I have a local practitioner examining it now."

"Put the secret service agent on the phone and find Greer. I want his ass in a cell by tomorrow."

"Yes, sir, here she is." I handed the phone to a very annoyed looking Agent Walters.

I half expected her to have her conversation with Sanders in front of me. I frowned a little when she turned around and walked away with my phone. The rest of the agents just stood there and stared at me as if I'd just been caught counterfeiting hundred dollar bills. I smiled and bared a little fang. I couldn't help it. I expected to catch them a little off guard, but they didn't seem impressed. After about two minutes, Walters came back and handed me my phone in a huff. I smiled a little wider.

"You have thirty minutes." She turned around and walked away. I refrained from making faces at her behind her back, barely.

I whistled at the P.D. sorcerer before he left and he ran back over, more than a little shocked. "You have thirty minutes to find out everything you can about that thing."

"So far, it's not much, but I'll send you everything I learn."

"Thanks. Now get to work." I smiled to let him know I wasn't being a bitch.

I could have clocked the thirty minutes against a stopwatch. As soon as it passed, Walters and her cohorts made their way back over to the skull and slid a metal box over the skull. The box had handles and must have weighed a ton because it took two of their heftier agents to lift it. Once they got it off the ground, the skull was gone. I tried not to cry out in frustration as they carried it away. The police sorcerer didn't look too happy to be shooed away, but to his credit, he didn't put up a fight or argue. I watched the whole thing in silence.

By the time the Secret Service walked out with their prize, the rest of us had just about finished sweeping for evidence, cleaning up bodies, and treating the injured. There wasn't anything left to do at the mansion, so I headed over to pick Thompson up at the hospital. We needed to find Greer. I'm sure he'd hung around the mansion, expecting his trap to neatly destroy his opposition and witnesses alike. He could have then walked back into the ballroom and claimed to be the only one left alive, another foiled attempt on his life. He must have run as soon as he realized I'd kicked Mr. Nasty's ass. I hoped he was afraid. I wanted him to be very, very afraid.

* * *

Thompson waited for me at the exit to the emergency room. I raised my eyebrows, surprised he wasn't still being poked and prodded by the hospital staff, but knowing him, he'd probably told them what they could do with their medical tests and walked out. At least he had pants on and not a hospital gown. When he turns into a werelion, not much of his clothing remains intact. Thank the gods his pants usually did. That would be more of Thompson than I ever wanted to see, mostly because his wife would kill me. There are few people on this earth I am truly afraid of. She's one of them.

I pulled up to the curb and he got in the passenger side without complaint. Usually, he insisted on driving, I guess he wasn't in the mood. "You okay?" He nodded instead of responding and I let it go. I stepped on the gas and drove us back to the hotel. Sunrise would be in an hour, and I wanted to be showered and snug in my bed well before then.

"What happened after I left?"

"Not much. I got into a pissing match with the Secret Service, but I called Sanders and he straightened it out."

"They come for the head?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Dealt with them before when they came to collect stuff from other cases I'd been working. Pleasant bunch aren't they?"

"Oh yeah, real charmers they are. Where do they keep all the items they've collected?"

"Not knowing is their first line of defense. Nobody knows."

"Nice."

We fell into that comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive to the hotel. I grinned when I found an empty parking space about three spots down from the entrance. I rarely found good parking spots. Thompson always did. I smiled triumphantly at him and he rolled his eyes.

We left the car and headed into the hotel, through the lobby, pausing only briefly to hit the up button on the elevator. I noticed Thompson walking funny, but I kept silent about it. If he wanted to be a "manly man" I'd let him. I even vowed not to laugh at him when he fell on his ass.

As soon as we stepped off the elevator, chills ran over my arms. I looked at Thompson to see if he sensed anything wrong, and he looked oblivious to everything, including me. I stepped off and raced down the hall, sure something wasn't right. I debated kicking open our room door, but it lie open about an inch. My heart sank into my stomach. The door swung open with barely a touch and a sea of devastation filled my vision. Couches overturned, tables broken, and doors smashed, spoke volumes as to what happened. Since there wasn't anything in our room worth finding or stealing, somebody had put up a hell of a fight. Since only one other person shared our room, it had to be Vic.

"Vic!" Her name resounded off the walls in the suite, but no response came. I frantically searched every room, under every bed, and in every closet, but she wasn't there. I knew that already, but I had to check.

"Maybe she's at the club?" Thompson tried to sound hopeful behind me, but then I saw the blood on the floor in the bathroom. I couldn't help myself; I knelt down and touched my fingers to it. It was sticky and wet, but cold to the touch. It had been spilt a while ago. Whoever had taken her had a good headstart. I knew who had her; I just couldn't say the name out loud. Wherever he had her, it had to be close. With the sun rising in less than an hour, he couldn't have gotten far.

"Greer has her. How the hell are we going to find him?"

"Kid, everybody and their mother are looking for him right now. Finding him won't be a problem, finding him in time might."

"Why would he take her?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but he's probably pissed at you. I'm not saying this is your fault, but you did just wreck everything for him."

I nodded and moved to the bedroom so I could sit down on the bed. I needed to think, fast. "How do we find him?"

"Can't you use some of your vampire mumbo jumbo?" I gave him a look that could have melted candles. Coming from a werelion, that seemed rather racist.

"It doesn't work like that. I couldn't find Cicero like that, why would I be able to find Greer?"

"Not Greer, you idiot, find Vic. She's your vampire, you're her master. Find her."

I had a "duh" moment. I don't like them. Without looking at Thompson too sheepishly, I sat back on the bed and closed my eyes. "What if she's dead?" I managed to speak through the lump in my throat. "What if I can't find her?"

"If she were dead, trust me, you would know. What if you don't try?"

"Good point." I closed my eyes and thought of Vic. I remembered the first time I ever saw her and that was a mistake. Her naked form dancing inches from my face brought a flush of heat to my face. I thought about her coming home shopping with Marcel and it became a little easier to focus. Her holding out the bracelet with the curious stone that matched my eyes snapped her into focus. I could feel her. Wherever she was, they had bound her and shut her in the dark. She could see, but barely, even with her vampiric eyes. White cloth lined the box she lay in and I knew it was a coffin. I pulled the memory from her mind. She used to sleep in one, they all did. In San Francisco and Sacramento it had been almost normal. Now fear crept up her spine and clouded her thoughts.

She could feel the sun coming up and knew there would be no rescue tonight. Not unless a miracle happened.

Well she had a miracle, me. I wouldn't sleep until she was safe. The sunlight wouldn't kill me, but it would make me damn uncomfortable. I just needed to know where they were holding her. I tried to pull the memory from her thoughts, but I couldn't find it. They'd covered her head after beating her nearly unconscious. The only clue I could find had been the smell of burnt wood and smoke as they came to their destination. That didn't help. I pulled myself from her mind and could feel a tug to the north that was her, but even that didn't help much. Saying "north of Sacramento" was like saying "over there somewhere." California has a lot of real estate.