Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella (164 page)

“
Ferrari-Carano,” said Kingsley, coming over to me and handing me the cool glass. “Your favorite.”

It was, although a fat lot of good it did me, since I hadn’t been buzzed in seven years. At least, not buzzed on alcohol.

“Thank you,” I said, “and thank you for flashing me for a third time.”

“
Third time’s a charm,” he said, making himself comfortable on the couch across from me.

“
More like three strikes and you’re out,” I mumbled.

“
I heard that, Sam. My hearing’s a little better than yours.”

“
That’s right, because you’re part dog.”

“
Sam...”

“
Or, should I say,
all
dog?”

“
Sam, I’ve apologized for what I’ve done.”

“
Then apologize again, dammit.”

He looked at me from over his amber-filled glass. His bare foot waggled nervously, like a dog’s tail. His shaggy hair hung disheveled around his shoulder. He gave me a sincere look. It was the same look, I was willing to bet, that he’d given jurors in courts of law. Still, he was trying, and I appreciated his effort.

“Sam,” he said, “I’m truly sorry that I did what I did. It was stupid mistake.”

“
Damn right it was stupid.”

“
I was stupid.”

“
Damn right, you were stupid.”

“
Now, other than getting on me for the hundredth time about my stupidity, why did you come here tonight?”

I wanted to still be mad at him, but how did I stay mad at a werewolf who wiggled his foot like a puppy dog who needed attention? I couldn’t, and let it go for now, and I told him about my new case. He listened quietly, drinking idly, nodding sometimes and making wolfish grunting noises. Okay, maybe not wolfish. That might have been my imagination.

When I was wrapping up, I added, “You know Hanner, Kingsley. And you knew her well before I did. Hell, she supplied you blood for me...or for your other vampire guests. I need to find her.”

“
I don’t know much about her, Sam. In fact, I would hazard to guess that you know far more about her at this point than I do.”

“
How did you two first meet?” I asked. I was holding my wine, but it was mostly forgotten. Little things like my throat getting dry or my voice getting hoarse from too much talking never, ever happened to me these days. Minor irritants like that healed instantly. And my body, apparently, didn’t need much water. I knew water helped remove dangerous toxins from normal people. Except, of course, I had no more fear of dangerous toxins of any sort. I knew water cushioned joints and helped carry nutrients to cells and helped regulate body temperature.

What, exactly, was cushioning my cells, I didn’t know. And whether or not my cells needed any nutrients, I didn’t know that either, but one thing I did know was this: blood did the universal trick. It had everything I needed, and then some. I’d gone days without drinking water and hadn’t missed a beat. And, no, I didn’t use the bathroom, either.

Like I said, I’m a freak.

Yes, I operated by different physical rules, although the emotions had mostly stayed intact. I could still feel hurt and jealousy and rage. Losing control of myself was just what
she
wanted. I had to stay in control. Stay human.

“
We met at a paranormal convention,” Kingsley was saying. “At the North Pole with Santa Claus.”

“
Jerk,” I said.

He chuckled lightly. “Sam, I’m involved in a sort of network of the undead, you could say. Or, in my case, supernaturals.”

“You are not undead?”

“
Not quite, Sam. I can live for a very long time, but werewolves are not ageless.”

Kingsley had explained once the reason for his great size. He had not started out so big. Over the years, and with each cycle of the moon, his body adopted the werewolf’s form more and more. The bigger he got, the closer he got to the beast within, the easier it was for him to transform with each full moon. A change that was not very pleasant.

I nodded. “If werewolves were immortal...”

“
We would be big as cars,” he finished.

I recalled the hulking beast standing in my hotel room two years ago. Yes, Kingsley was huge in his changeling form. Truth was, he was not that far off from his alter ego’s size.

“How old are you again?” I asked.

“
I’m close to eighty, Sam.”

“
And you don’t look a day over forty-five.”

“
I was thinking forty, but whatever,” he said. “And I know what you’re thinking...”

I looked at him for a long moment, and fought a strong need to reach for his big hand. “What am I thinking?”

“You’re wondering how I could possibly be so good looking. It’s not easy, let me tell you. The hair care products alone cost me a fortune.”

I laughed, and as I did so, I realized there would be a day when Kingsley wasn’t here for me either, and that thought brought anguish to my heart and tears to my eyes.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, reaching over and gently lifting my jaw. “I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“
How long?”

“
A long, long time.”

I nodded and briefly hid my face in my hands. I guess I cared about Kingsley more than I realized. No, I had always cared about him. Our timing hadn’t been right. Not initially, when I was dealing with a cheating spouse. And just when my heart was healing, just when I was coming around to really loving Kingsley...he’d cheated on me, too.

I let it go, and fought back tears, and said, “I need to find Hanner.”

Kingsley blinked with the sudden shift in conversation. He said, “I was under the impression that she was still gone.”

“She’s back.”

Kingsley had, of course, known about Hanner turning Fang. “I was unaware of that.”

“How plugged into this supernatural network are you?” I asked.

“
I’m as plugged in as I need to be, or want to be.”

“
I need to find her,” I said. “And Fang.”

“
I’ll see what I can find out,” I said.

“
They’re killing out of L.A.” I hesitated to say
training
, although that was what I suspected the killings were.

Kingsley nodded, held my gaze. “Have you considered why they’re leaving bodies in the park, Sam?”

“I have.”

“
Any thoughts?”

“
Not many, other than it’s obvious they want people to know a vampire is around.”

“
People?” asked Kingsley. “Or just you?”

“
Me?”

“
Yes,” he said. “You.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Their actions have flushed you out, in a way.”

“
But why?”

“
I don’t know, Sam.”

I next told Kingsley about Sanchez’s memory gap.

“I think we know the reason for the memory gap, Sam,” said Kingsley. “Someone wanted him to contact you.”

“
But he contacted Sherbet first.”

“
Which would be protocol, and less obvious,” said Kingsley. “Contact Sherbet first, who would obviously turn around and contact you. So, who would know to contact Sherbet first?”

“
Hanner,” I said.

“
And Hanner, according to you, is particularly adept at altering memories.”

I looked at Kingsley grimly. “We need to find her, and we need to see what the hell is going on.”

Kingsley looked at me with a lot of concern in his big, brown eyes. “And stop the killings, too, right?”

I blinked, realizing I’d overlooked that crucial reasoning. “Yes,” I said, mildly alarmed at my oversight, “that, too.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

I was seated outside of Detective Rachel Hanner’s home in the Fullerton Hills.

It was late and the hills were mostly quiet and I was smoking again. The occasional car drove by, winding up and out of sight, or winding down and out of sight. The homes up here were far too big, and far too beautiful for a lowly private eye. Or even for a homicide detective. Yet, this is where Hanner lived...and lived well.

Detective Sanchez had called me on the way out and asked how the investigation was coming along. I hadn’t told Sanchez too much of what I knew. And I certainly hadn’t revealed Fang or Hanner’s identity. So, I debated about how much to tell him, and finally told him that I was following a very strong lead. He had asked how strong. I said I was going to the vampire’s lair. He asked if I really said
lair
, and I said I had and that I would fill him in later.

And lair it was, although it looked less like a lair and more like an opulent home. That a homicide detective lived up here—in the priciest part of Fullerton, no doubt with the attorneys and doctors and Starbucks franchisees, should have been an indicator that something was amiss. Undoubtedly, Hanner had been many things throughout her long life, and had amassed tremendous wealth.

Or not. Who knows.
Maybe she had killed the owner of the house and assumed her identity. Truth was, I didn’t know much about Hanner.

Yes, we had sat together on her deck, drinking blood. Yes, she had been kind to me early on. She alone had cleaned up two of my messes, back when I had taken on two powerful vampires. One a Texan and the other, perhaps the oldest vampire of all, or one of the oldest. In both cases, witnesses at both scenes had to have their memories cleaned or replaced. Yes, she had been there for me.

As I smoked, hating the taste but enjoying the focus it gave my mind, I knew that it didn’t have to be this way with Hanner. She would have been my best friend, if a killing machine like Hanner could have a best friend. I’d never forget the hungry look in her eyes. The feral, wild look of a predator. Yes, she was very far gone. Her humanity often took a backseat to the darkness within.

The
thing
within.

But I had gone against the program, so to speak. I had bucked the system. As far as I knew, there was not a council of vampires. There was not an official hierarchy or a vampire leader, although I suspected some groups of vampires had banded together here and there. Yes, I thought Hanner was hoping she and I could band together, too, form our own sub-group. I had been on board as far as being her friend, or hanging out with her and learning from her. I had enjoyed our pleasant evenings together...

As a friend, Hanner was creepy at best. As an enemy, she was frightening. I thought she now fell into the latter category.

Now, she was forming a new union with a new vampire.

Fang.

And perhaps setting up another blood ring.

Or worse.

What was worse, I didn’t know. But the two of them were up to something. It had been many months since Fang had left with Hanner. I had been given the idea that it was far away, somewhere remote.

But what if it wasn’t far away?

What if it had been in my own back yard, so to speak?

What if Hanner and Fang had been in Los Angeles this whole time?

Maybe,
I thought, and inhaled deeply on the cancer stick. Then again, they might as well have been a world away if I couldn’t find them.

Truth was, I would have let them be.

I would have let them run off together, to be the best goddamn vampires they could be.

That is, if they hadn’t left the bodies in Griffith Park.

That is, if they hadn’t compelled Detective Sanchez to come calling for Sherbet, and, in turn, me.

They were bringing me into something.

What, exactly, I didn’t know.

But I was going to find out.

Chapter Twenty-nine

I snubbed out my cigarette in the minivan’s ashtray, reminding myself later to clean it out before the kids got home. Yes, I no longer hid the fact that I was a vampire from my kids, but I still hid the fact that I smoked.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.

It was past midnight, and I felt strong and alert.

Of course, any vampire would be strong and alert. Hanner, for instance, was older than me by many decades, perhaps centuries. A concept that still boggled the mind and, as always, made me seriously question my sanity.

The moon was in its half state. It appeared and disappeared behind the taller trees that ran along this upscale neighborhood. A few cars came by. I was parked behind a bend, between two massive homes. Fullerton Hills might not be Beverly Hills, but these homes were damn nice in my book.