Mind Sweeper (31 page)

“In a safe place for the moment. We need to ask you some questions. But first, let me make some introductions. If you don’t recognize me and my colleague here, we’re the two you tried to run down with your truck in the alley a few days ago.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do we need to face away from you? Maybe the backs of our heads will jog your memory. After all, we were running away from you at the time.”

“What do you want?”

“We want to know why you’re trying to kill supernaturals.”

“Is that what you call yourselves instead of monsters?”

I smiled tightly. “Actually, I’m human, and so is he.”

He stammered, “Human…but why would you be helping them?”

“Doc, why would we be helping you?”

“Because of our sparkling personalities?”

Watson cringed under her touch. “You’re…”

“A demon who just spent an hour saving your life.” She winked at him before placing the bandage back on his stomach.

“Why are you helping me?”

The door opened and Misha walked in. “Because we are not the mindless demons you think we are.” Watson took one look at him and jerked upright, moaning. Misha walked around the bed pushing him gently back down on the pillows. “Hold still or you will hurt yourself again.”

I continued. “I see you remember Misha, here. He almost died from your bullet. He’s also the one who fought the vamps earlier and saved your ass.”

Watson’s confused eyes stared up at Misha. “Why didn’t you just let them kill me?”

“Because I am not evil. I protect supernaturals and people. Like humans, there are both good and bad demons and vampires walking the earth. I think you have only met the bad ones, yes?”

Watson let out a harsh breath.

I jumped back in. “We need to know what’s going on and why you’re gunning for supes. Believe it or not, we’re on the same team. Not the ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ team, but the ‘stop the rogue supernaturals from destroying the earth’ team. So spill what you know.”

He hesitated, and I could almost hear the wheels turning as he weighed his options. Were we really trying to help him, or were we just acting nice while we pumped him for information? I couldn’t blame him.

I acquiesced. “Let’s do it this way. We’ll tell you what we’ve learned so far, and you can fill us in on the rest. A week ago a vampire named Charles Hampton was decapitated in the Erie Bar. By the time we arrived on the scene, Hampton’s head was missing.”

Watson interrupted. “How did you get the people in the bar to keep quiet? Did you kill them?”

I sighed. “No, we erased their memories of the event. As Misha told you, our job is to protect. This means we sometimes make people forget what they saw. Do you have Hampton’s head?”

“No.”

I hadn’t thought he did, but I wanted to be sure. “How did you end up at the bar?”

Watson stared at me for a moment before responding. “I had been following Hampton.”

“Because he killed Father Cowell and Brubaker?” I asked.

His eyes widened. “Yeah, the bastard tortured them to death.”

I continued. “You followed Byron home to ask him about Hampton’s head?”

“I thought since he worked as the bartender and was a mons…I mean a supernatural, he might know where the head was.”

“And you tortured him.”

“No.” He shook his head and cringed at the movement. “I went to his place and found him dead. Then I heard a noise at the front door so I hid.” He stared at me. “When you came into the apartment, I thought you were a supernatural, so I hit you over the head and ran.”

“Why were you looking for Hampton’s head?” Misha interrupted.

“I was afraid he had learned too much from Father Cowell and Jonathan. I didn’t know if those memories could be extracted or not. Hell, I wasn’t sure if he was really dead. For all I know, vampires are like worms and can grow body parts back when they’re cut off.”

A soft chuckle came from the doorway. “That would be wonderful, but unfortunately, we cannot grow back appendages.”

Watson’s eyes widened and Jean Luc held up his hands. “Please do not try to run. Doc and I spent too much time sewing you up earlier. I do not want to have to start over again.”

Dalton interrupted. I was actually surprised he had waited this long to ask questions. “Why did Hampton kill Cowell and Brubaker? Was it related to the dig in Turkey?”

“Yeah. Two years ago I was stationed in Turkey protecting the dig site. There had been some threats of violence from the locals, who felt their land was being desecrated, so we were called in. I met Father Cowell and Jonathan on the site. At first, everything was fine, uneventful really.”

“What happened to change that?” I asked.

“The dig overall seemed to be a bust. There were no major finds. When the head honchos arrived, everyone was scrambling around making a big deal out of nothing. But Hampton was not impressed.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “Hampton was there?”

“He was going by the name of Joseph Small at the time.”

Several eyebrows raised.

“What happened then?”

“Since the boss men were there, the dig coordinators decided to work overnight. Jonathan and Father Cowell were working in a remote area and thought they had come across something. But when the rest of the group got to them, they said it was a false alarm. After that, they both started acting weird, withdrawn. I watched them, thinking maybe they had found a relic and were trying to steal it or something.” He paused. “I’m sorry, can I have some water?”

I waited impatiently, biting my bottom lip, while Doc handed him a cup and he took a sip before continuing. “The next night, everyone left early to get some sleep. I got the short straw and had to stand night duty. While I was walking the perimeter lights, Father Cowell and Jonathan came back to the site and entered a tent. I hung back to see what they were up to and after a couple of minutes I saw Hampton enter the tent as well. By the time I got closer, I could hear yelling. Hampton was demanding they give him the key and they told him they didn’t have a key. When Jonathan started screaming, I ran into the tent. Hampton’s nails had turned into claws and he had freaking fangs. I pointed my rifle and capped him were he stood.”

Unfortunately, I knew where this was going. “And he didn’t go down.”

Watson nodded. “He staggered, and looked down at his bloody chest then back up at me and took a step toward me. I shot him again. Father Cowell grabbed a small bag and screamed for Jonathan to run. Before they made it out of the tent, a Pavel materialized. At the time, I didn’t know what the hell it was, other than I thought the world was coming to an end.”

“How did you get away?” Misha asked.

“Father Cowell threw the bag he was carrying at the demon and spouted something in Latin, and then he shoved us both out of the tent while the vamp and demon fought over the bag.”

“What did you do then?” Misha persisted. His eyes were dancing. He was enjoying this story as much as his TV shows.

“I seriously thought about going AWOL until Father convinced us we were safe. He said the angels had given him a prayer that he had spoken to make them forget about us. All they really cared about was the key anyway.”

“And where is this key?” I asked.

Watson answered, “I don’t know. All Father would tell me was the vampire and demon did not have the real key. No one could ever actually possess it.”

Dalton took a step closer to the bed. “Father Cowell was keeping a journal with information about demons. There is an excerpt in the front which was partially translated. Is that information about the key?”

“Yeah, he said it referenced the key. But he had more than one journal. I have his other book stashed.”

“Where is it?” Dalton asked.

“It’s at the train terminal in a locker. The key is in my pants.”

Doc interrupted. “Okay. Enough, he needs some rest.”

“But we’re not done,” I grumbled.

“He isn’t going anywhere right now.”

Watson looked around the room, and when he saw we weren’t going to do anything to him, let out a deep breath. I grinned and patted his arm. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going to kill you. We’re the good guys.”

Chapter 33

“Are you ready for a field trip to the train station?” I asked.

Dalton grinned. “Yep.”

I grinned back. Boys and their trains. I picked up my phone, noticing I had a new email message. I clicked it. “Carl emailed me.”

“About what?”

“I totally forgot I had asked him about two of the students in the pictures he sent. He gave me the names, but he isn’t sure where they are at this point. Jonathan hadn’t kept in touch with them after graduation.” I scanned the names. “Let me forward this to Misha and get him to start digging into their whereabouts.”

Dalton and I walked out of Doc’s office into the hallway. Watson was hobbling along slowly with Doc clucking like a mother hen behind him.

I called out to him, “You’re not trying to be an overachiever are you?”

He shook his head. “The faster I start moving around, the faster I can be on my way.”

Jean Luc entered the hallway through the morgue door. “I would not be in any rush.”

“What do you mean?” Watson asked.

“Misha just called. When he left here a few minutes ago, he was followed. He planned to lead them away and call us to evacuate, but after a couple of minutes the car turned around and headed back in this direction. I think whoever was following him realized you were not with Misha, so they came back here.”

I had to ask, but I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. “How did they know he wasn’t with Misha?”

“They could tell there were no humans in the car by scent. Plus, if they are the vampires who attacked Jason, they will be able to identify him by his blood.”

“Great.” Watson stepped into the morgue area and sat down heavily in the chair I offered him. “What’s to stop them from coming in here?”

Doc answered him. “This facility is like a supernatural version of an embassy. They don’t dare come in here. It would cause an incident that would be, at the very least, viewed unfavorably by most of the supernatural community.”

“But once I leave here?”

“All bets are off,” I said.

Watson glanced around at us. “Now what do we do?”

I smiled. “We’ll give them what they’re looking for. Dalton, are you up for a little bait and switch?”

* * *

Jean Luc drove us to the train station. Dalton sat in the back seat wearing a hooded zip-up jacket. Stuffed in his pocket were several pieces of Watson’s bloody shirt.

Jean Luc peered in the rear view mirror. “They are still following us.”

“Like damn blood hounds.” I peered sheepishly at Jean Luc. “Sorry.”

“No offense taken.”

“Do we know the plan?” I prodded.

Dalton nodded. “Jean Luc will get me on a train, and hopefully our two vampire friends will follow me.”

“Right, and in the meantime, I’ll get the journal out of the locker. And while we’re gone, Misha will move Watson and Doc to a safer place.”

Jean Luc parked and the three of us entered the station. I separated from the guys and took a roundabout route to the lockers. Plenty of people were milling around the terminal area, but no one seemed to be following me. I slipped into the women’s restroom, and after a couple of minutes came back out again. No one lurked outside waiting for me.

Weaving through the lockers, I found number 321 and opened the door. It appeared empty, but I didn’t panic. Instead, I reached up and found the plastic bag taped to the inside top of the locker as Watson had instructed. I ripped it down, took the small book out of the bag and slipped it into a new plastic bag to mask any scents, stuffed the book in my bag, and walked toward the exit. Pulling a sanitizing wipe from one of the containers strategically located throughout the station, I cleaned my hands quickly, and chucked it into the garbage.

With a relieved breath, I went out to the car and jumped in. My whole adventure had taken a whopping twelve minutes. I started the car and pulled up closer to the station doors. My phone beeped. It was a text message from Misha. He had successfully moved Doc and Watson.

After another five minutes, my nerves jangled, especially since I had to circle the parking lot once when a cop motioned me to move on. When I came around and parked the second time, Dalton walked out the door and got into the back of the van.

“Go. Jean Luc is going to meet us around back.”

I pushed lightly on the accelerator when what I really wanted to do was slam my foot to the floor in a rubber-burning getaway. Then I maneuvered around to the back of the building, as close to the door as I could. Within a minute, Jean Luc came out and climbed into the car, as calm as could be.

I pulled out of the parking lot. “Did it work?”

“Yes. Joe did a wonderful job. They followed him onto the train.”

Dalton chimed in, “I waited until the train was almost ready to leave. Then I threw pieces of bloody shirt in several garbage containers, ditched the sweatshirt and the last bloody shirt piece in the garbage in one of the lavatories, and jumped off when the train started moving.”