Blood of Dawn (29 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Dawn
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“My ride will be here any minute.”
The distant rumble of thunder echoed off the brick store.
I shoved open my door—couldn’t open the power windows with no power. After taking an assessment of my lightning-strike risk, I poked my head out (as little as possible). “We’re about to get a storm. You may want to wait inside.”
“I’ll be fine. How often do people get struck by lightning?” She tossed a dismissive hand.
Another jagged bolt lit up the sky. I flinched. “About six hundred times a year.”
“What?”
“People get injured by lightning approximately six hundred times a year. That’s in the U.S. Worldwide, the figure is much higher, over two hundred thousand people are injured every year. About ten percent die. The odds of your being struck by lightning in your lifetime are roughly one in ten thousand.”
And significantly higher, with an
impundulu
running amok in the area
.
Her jaw dropped. “What are you? A walking encyclopedia?” I’d heard that question once or twice in my lifetime.
Another flash zigged down from a nearby cloud. The heated air produced a loud
craaack,
which made me wince and my ears ring. “Please get back inside the car.”
Olivia glared at me.
“Please.”
“Fine.” She
click-clacked
back to the car and opened the door.
And I was blinded as a brilliant light suddenly exploded next to us. When I realized what had happened, I unclicked my seat belt and crawled over the car seat to look down.
Olivia was lying on the ground. Still. Too still.
“Damn it!” Hanging half out of the car, I dragged the upper part of her body inside and checked her pulse. Nothing. “
No, no, no, no!
You can’t die.” On my knees, bent over the center console and her head, I tried to perform chest compressions. I had no idea if it was working, thanks to my position, but I couldn’t risk going outside. It seemed we were being showered with lightning strikes, brilliant blue bolts zinging down around Mom’s car. I’d never seen anything like it. I knew it wasn’t natural.
My hands shaking from the adrenaline charging through my body, I checked again for a pulse. I felt something, a weak beat beneath my fingertip. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911; then I concentrated on getting Olivia’s legs into the car and her door closed to protect her. The bolts increased, becoming thicker, brighter. Blinding. Faster. More and more of them, until it was like the car was being walled in by electricity.
Squinting, I tried to start the car. No luck. I was sweating, and the inside of the car was heating. Would we bake to death?
“Where are you?” I screamed above the nearly constant booming thunder. “What do you want?”
A dark shadow appeared in the blue-white wall. It grew larger, larger. A bird. The man-bird. At least six feet tall, with feathers that were inky black and a wingspan of no less than fourteen feet. Its beak was hooked, like a raptor’s. And its eyes were small and sharp. It opened its beak and a shrill shriek—so loud that it hurt—cut through the car. I clapped my hands over my ears.
“You’re being made to do this!” I yelled. “But you don’t have to. You have a choice!”
It turned its head, one eye staring at me.
“I can help you.”
Its feathers rippled, as if a wind gust was blowing up from the ground. Within seconds, they were gone, and I was staring at Damen. My fiancé.
I couldn’t speak for at least a minute. It might’ve been longer. An hour. “It’s you? You’re the
impundulu
?”
He said nothing. He lifted his hand and the wall of blue-white light instantly vanished. The air went still. Everything went silent, except the ringing in my ears.
My eyes were watering, and my nose burning. I thumbed away a tear. “Why? Why did you kill those innocent girls?” Suddenly cold, I wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn’t believe this. Damen? It was Damen?
“I had no choice,” he said, looking regretful.
“Why?”
“She’s forcing me to.”
She?
“Who?”
“I can’t say her name. Can’t speak it. Just as I can’t refuse her.”
“Then I have to stop her.”
“Stop her, Sloan. For me. Please.” He rounded the front of the car, stopping next to Olivia’s feet. He stooped down and put his eyes level with mine. “I think you might be her next target. Once she gives the command, I won’t be able to refuse her.”
He extended a hand. “I’m sorry about your friend. Once I release the current, I can’t control it. And this one was too close to the car. Forgive me.”
Another flash.
He was gone.
“Ooohhh,”
Olivia moaned. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Two police cars bounced to a stop in front of the car. A fire truck and an EMS vehicle were right behind them. Within minutes, Olivia was being checked out by medical, and I was relating to the police officers a highly edited version of what had happened.
Inside, my heart was shattered. The man I’d just promised to marry was our unsub. Make that
one
of our unsubs. Could I believe what he’d said? Was he really under the unsub’s complete control? And if he couldn’t tell me her name, how would I find out who she was before she gave the command?
Whoever undertakes to set himself up as judge in the field of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.
—Albert Einstein
29
I now knew the identity of one of our unsubs. And I was under obligation to report it to the chief. But I wasn’t sure I could do it. Damen—my Damen—had killed innocent teen girls. Not because it was his choice, but because he had been commanded to do it. What did that make him?
Guilty?
Not guilty?
A cold-blooded murderer?
Or a victim?
I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t directly involved. Someone objective who could see this situation from my point of view . . . or at least a more neutral point of view. Someone who wasn’t in the FBI or BPD.
Of course, that was prohibited. We weren’t permitted to discuss a case with anyone outside of the bureau. But I needed some help sorting this whole thing out. I needed to understand the legal ramifications of Damen’s actions. I needed to have some idea of what would happen, once his identity was known to the authorities—which was inevitable.
Sitting in the waiting area at a mechanic’s shop, the buzz of hydraulic wrenches humming from the garage, I stared at my phone, browsing through my contacts. Who could I talk to? Katie? Mom? Dad? Someone else?
No one. Damn it. I couldn’t call anyone.
But I did need to call my father. I needed to meet with the queen. It was time for a heart-to-heart with the woman who was supposed to be my future mother-in-law. But I wasn’t going to tell my dad about Damen. I couldn’t.
He answered on the third ring. “Sloan?”
“Dad, I need your help.” I swallowed a sob.
Damn it, I am
not
going to cry. Not now. Not here in this ugly, old mechanic’s shop.
“What’s wrong?”
“A lot.” I swiveled in my chair, facing the dingy corner as much as I could. “But I can’t go into it.”
Or could I?
Before marrying Mom for the second time, Dad had been the queen’s head of security. He knew the queen’s family. He knew Damen well.
Could I trust him?
“Dad, you know Damen. But did you know
what
he is?”
“What?”
my father echoed. “As in, an elf?”
“No,
what
as in
impundulu.
” Feeling the shivers coming on, I wrapped my free arm around myself. This case was hell. And I wasn’t sure I could deal with it.
“Oh. That.” He knew.
“You knew? Damn it.”
“Yes, but I’d taken a vow of silence. I couldn’t tell you.”
“Well, his secret is a secret no more. I know. And soon the FBI and the entire Baltimore Police Department are going to know too. Dad, how many people has he killed?”
“None that I’m aware of. That was why I had no qualms about keeping it secret.”
“That’s changed recently.” The doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of someone. I glanced over my shoulder, saw it was a woman, and turned back around. I lowered my voice. “He’s killed three teenage girls, and I believe he nearly killed at least one more.”
“Oh, damn. Someone found out. They’ve performed a linking spell.”
“They have. Is it true that he can’t refuse a command once it’s given?”
“That’s true. One of my primary responsibilities was to protect him so that no one found out. Their power is absolute.”
“I need to find out who is controlling him. Is there any way to do that?”
“I don’t know. He can’t tell you who he or she is.”
“That I know. Can he write his or her name? Sign it? Give it to me in Morse code?”
“No. He isn’t able to use any form of communication to reveal her identity.”
“Damn it. Dad, do you know what this means for him? If he’s powerless to resist a command from someone else, is he legally culpable?”
My father didn’t answer right away. “His attorney will no doubt enter a defense of automatism, alleging that he had lack of control over his actions. Therefore, he cannot be held responsible.”
“Will it work?”
“It
might.
”
Or it might not.
My gut twisted, and I realized suddenly that I genuinely cared for Damen. I didn’t want to see him spending the rest of his life incarcerated for a crime he was unable to stop himself from committing. But I was also concerned for his future. If he fell under the control of someone else, what other heinous crimes might he be compelled to carry out? How horrible, to live under the constant worry of someone discovering your vulnerability and using it against your will.
“Sloan, if you’re thinking you can save him somehow—”
“I need to help him.” My eyes were burning again, damn it. I dragged the back of my hand across them. “How? What do I do?” There was no thinking. I had to save him.
“There’s only one way, but it’s dangerous. He’s dangerous. And with every kill, he becomes more deadly. You have to take control over him.”
“Okay.”
“To do that, you’ll need to kill the person who’s controlling him now.”
“Kill?” My voice cracked. I hadn’t killed anyone before. I haven’t even killed an animal. How could I drum up the courage to end someone’s life? My insides did a flip-flop. “Isn’t there another way?”
“No. Once a linking spell has been completed between the
impundulu
and its master, it can only be broken by the master, or by death . . . of either of them. Though, if the impundulu dies, its master dies too.”
I imagined myself face-to-face with a young teenage girl; I held a gun in my hand, pointed at her. “I can’t do it. I can’t kill anyone.”
“Then I’m afraid there will be no stopping him or her. Or Damen. There’s something else, Sloan.”
I was sure I didn’t want to know. “What?”
“Like I said, with each kill, Damen becomes more dangerous. He loses more of himself, his soul. If you don’t stop him, he’ll eventually become a killer with no remorse, no regret. He’ll have no capacity to love, to care about another person.”
“The good news just keeps coming.” A sob-sigh slipped from my mouth. “In other words, it’s either his master’s life or his?”
“His life or all the victims his master has set his or her sights upon.”
“I understand. Thanks.” My finger hovered over the red button. I wanted to end the call, but I blurted out, “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“One more favor. Can you arrange for me to meet with the queen? I’m hoping she might have an idea of who’s done this.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks.”
After I clicked off, I dropped my phone into my purse, bent over, folded my arms on my knees, and cried.
 
 
By the time my car was done—which didn’t take long—my tears had dried up and I was somewhat ready to face the next step. Once I was in my car, I dialed my father first, to see if he’d had any luck with the elf queen. Somehow I needed to figure out who Damen’s puppet master was. And after that? Well, I was hoping I’d find a way to get around the whole must-kill-one-of-them thing.
Dad answered on the fourth ring. I admit, I was getting nervous by the second ring. “Hi, Sloan. I have good news. The queen has agreed to meet with you tonight.”
“Good. Where do I go?”
“She’ll be sending a car for you. Go back to the house and wait for it there.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad. I owe you.” I paid for my new battery.
“Don’t worry about it, Sloan. That’s what fathers are for.” After a beat, he added, “I wasn’t there for you for all those years. I figure I have a lot of making up to do.”
I entered Mom’s car, shoved the key into the ignition, and turned. The engine started. My next call was to JT. Of all the members of the PBAU, he was the one I trusted most.
“Sloan, I heard about the attack.” He sounded worried. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sort of okay,” I said as I turned out of the parking lot, heading toward Mom and Dad’s place. “I learned who the first unsub is—the one who’s been doing all the killing.”
“Good! Who is it? One of the students at the high school?”
“No, it’s Damen Sylver.”
“I recognize that name. Wait, isn’t he the one who—”
“Yes. He’s the one. It’s worse.” I dug my ring out of my purse and slid it onto my finger. “He . . . asked me to marry him. I accepted.” My insides knotted. “We’re engaged.”
“Shit. Sloan, we need to take this to the chief right away. You should be pulled from the case. There’s no way you can be objective, and you need to be protected. What if he finds out—”
“He already knows that I know. He told me. I don’t believe he wants to hurt me. Please, JT, don’t tell her to pull me. I agree, I can’t be completely objective, but I want to work this case. Damen is under the control of someone else. He can’t stop what he’s doing.”
“If that’s the case, he’ll have his day in court to explain it.”
“If we’re going to stop him, we have to find out who is pulling his strings. I have connections nobody else at the PBAU has. You need me to get to the unsub.” I glanced over my shoulder, easing onto the freeway.
“Sloan.”
“JT.”
“I’m calling the chief. I’ll explain everything and see what she says. Where are you now?”
“On my way home.”
“Good. Once you get there, stay away from all electrical appliances. And don’t go anywhere until you hear back from me. We have to handle this situation with care. We can’t risk losing the case in court.”
“You see, that’s the thing. I’m waiting for someone to pick me up. I’ve set up a meeting with someone who is key in the case.”
“Damn it, Sloan.”
I jerked the wheel, and the car lurched off onto the shoulder. My hands were shaking so badly, I could hardly shift the vehicle into park. I hit the hazard lights. “If I have to quit the PBAU right now, I will. JT, we’re not talking about some stranger who’s running around slaughtering people unmercifully, we’re talking about a man who is being forced to kill against his will. He’s suffering. He’s in danger. He needs my help.”
“Let me get in touch with the chief. I’ll call you back in a few.”
“Fine. Bye.” I clicked off, shifted back into drive, and hit the gas. My car was pointed toward Mom and Dad’s place. I didn’t care if the chief sent over a SWAT team; I was going to help Damen—no matter what.
 
 
I noticed the first car tailing me when I was a couple of miles from my parents’ house. A second one joined the parade, a half mile down. And then a third shortly after that. By the time I pulled up in Mom and Dad’s driveway, I was leading a fairly sizeable caravan. All the miscellaneous cars parked up and down the street—their drivers were all watching and waiting for me to make my move.
Or waiting to shoot down Damen, if he risked showing up at my house.
I thought about calling him, then second-guessed myself. Was my cell phone being monitored? Might I lead the BPD right to his front door? I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I texted him three words: Danger. Stay away.
When I scurried inside, Katie caught me practically the moment I shut the door behind me.
“What’s going on, Sloan? We’ve had two police officers watching the house for the last twenty minutes.” She parted the curtains, peering outside.
“There’s more than two out there now.”
“Why?”
“Damen is the one who killed those girls.”
“Your Damen?”
“Yes.”
She smacked her hands over her mouth. “Oh, my God! Sloan!”
“He isn’t doing it because he wants to. He’s being controlled by someone else. It’s very complicated.”
Katie’s eyes widened to at least twice their normal size. “Oh, my God. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Somehow I need to find out who is doing the controlling, so I can stop her.”
“Can I help?”
“I don’t know.” I sank into a nearby chair and concentrated. It wasn’t easy. I was slipping into panic mode. My synapses didn’t fire when I was in panic mode. “I need to think. How am I going to find out who she is?”
Katie peered outside again. She flopped her hands. “Sloan, there’s a mobile police station parked outside.”
“Are you kidding me?” I peeked out. “Shit! The queen is sending a car over to pick me up so I can talk to her. That isn’t going to happen if the crew out there throws us all to the ground, slaps cuffs on us, and drags us in for questioning.”
“Maybe you should sneak out now.”
“And go where?”

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