West Coast Witch (3 page)

The woman behind the desk was not the usual cute redhead. Instead, she was a blond,
with features that seemed very sculpted, carved from ivory. The lines of her face
were sharp, yet graceful, intent on the book she was reading. Her green eyes were
darting across the page, and her combat boots were up on the counter, propped up in
a careless manner.

I waited a moment before clearing my throat. “Excuse me?” I said.

She looked up from her book. “Oh, yea, sure.” She dog-eared the page she was on and
set the book on the counter. She swung her feet down and stood up. “All right then…”
She started to ring up the books.

I took a look down at her book. “Night Politics?” I asked.

“Yes, it is on the new Arcane Rights Amendment that is being batted through Congress
for a few years. Giving Arcanes an equal right and all that.”

I nodded. “All right. What’s the view point?”

“Well, Wilson is a pretty pro-human hardliner. Makes some points about how, well,
the Arcanes have not been out in the open for too long. They would still be hiding
if that pair of vamps had not gotten crazy on national television and came out of
the closet, as it were.” She shrugged. “But, anyways, what can I do for you?”

“I have a order, for Eric Carpenter.”

She nodded. “Of course, I will pull them up right now.” She turned around, and headed
off towards the holds. She came back in a minute, holding the books, and read my total.

I paid with plastic, and put the books into my messenger’s bag. “So, how’s the actual
writing?” I asked.

She shrugged. “His arguments are solid, but he himself is pretty dry.” She said. The
blond extended her hand. “The name is Amy. Paulson just hired me on earlier this week.”

I smiled a little. “Well, that would explain why I hadn’t see you before. I’m one
of the regulars. I’ll be back in a week or so with more stuff to grab. Nice to meet
you Amy.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Eric,” she said.

“How did you get my name?” I asked.

“The plastic.” A little smirk crossed her features.

I wanted to hit myself for being that daft. “Oh, yea, right.” I took the receipt she
offered. “Well, thanks a lot. See you next week.” I said.

“I look forward to it, Eric.”

As I was walking home, I started to think about Raymond Francis and Samantha Coolidge.
Sam had been a good friend, and she was, besides Matt, the only friend I had kept
in contact with after I had gotten my Master's.

After I got home, I dug up my old address book from the memory on my computer. I had
Sam's old number there. I hadn't really known if she'd changed it in recent years,
but I figured I would have to give it a shot. I wanted to see what had happened to
my friend.

On the third ring, someone answered, an older woman. “Hello, Coolidge Residence.”

“Hi, is this Sam Coolidge's mother?”

There was silence for a moment. Finally, the woman said. “Who is this? Who the hell
are you?”

“This is Eric Carpenter. I'm a friend of Sam's from university.” I said. “We dated
for a while.”

“Eric?” She thought a moment. “Yes, right. This is Bethany, Sam's mother. I'm sorry
for the little outburst. But, Sam's been missing, and I'm just so worried.”

“It's understandable, Mrs. Coolidge.” I said. “I'm calling about Raymond Francis,
the private detective you hired.”

There was another pause from Bethany. “Ray? What's happened to Ray?”
 
Her voice was touched with concern. Maybe Francis had been a friend of the family,
and that was more than just a story.

“Mr. Francis was asking questions around the bar last night,” I started. “We found
him in the dumpster after closing, dead.”

“Oh my God.” She gasped. “Oh, God, no.”

“I wasn't sure that the police had called you yet.”

“No, they hadn't,” she said. “Thank you for calling, Eric. Even if it is bad news.”

“Was Sam still living with you?” I remember Sam had always talked about her mother.
Protective, but loving. Sam had been incredibly fond of her, even when they were living
together back in our State days.

She shook her head. “No, she wasn't. She was living with a student, a friend of hers.”

I sighed. “I just wish I could help, ma'am. Honestly, I do.”

“Thank you for saying that, Eric.” She sounded warm, kind, motherly. I didn't have
too much experience with that. I'd been raised by my grandparents, and my grandmother
was sweet, but never very maternal.

“If you can think of anything I can do to help, just let me know.” I said.

“I'll hold you to that, Eric.” Bethany said.

I'd just promised I'd help look into a kidnapping, which I knew nothing about, with
connections to the Arcane. Yea, I really hoped this wasn't going to come back to bite
me.

The night had been pretty dull. It was a Wednesday, and not the most lively. I was
taking a quick break with some chips when Terry approached me. “Hey, can you believe
what those cops did? They took our dumpster down to their crime lab. What the hell
am I supposed to do without a dumpster?”

“Can you blame them?” I asked. “You know, a guy was killed in our own back alley.”

“Yea, yea, and I can’t get a new one in here until Friday. Until then I’ve got garbage
that needs to go out.”

I thought for a second. “What about La Maria? They’ve got a dumpster, and it’s just
a small walk.”

Terry narrowed his eyes. “Well, guess who just volunteered to talk with the manager
of La Maria.”

I’ve learned in recent years to keep my mouth shut when I get ideas. Most of the time.
Well, some of the time. La Maria was a taqueria that we shared some business with.
They were two doors down, with the establishment in between us closed for renovation.
I let Terry take the bar, and I ditched the apron before heading out onto the street.
Thankfully, tonight was cooler, closer to the standards of San Francisco.

The walk didn’t take long, and I found the manager of La Maria easy enough, a Latino
with more girth than height. He agreed to it, though I had to haggle him down to a
bottle of our good vodka. I wrote down what we owed him for the favor, and headed
out their back entrance into the alley, hoping to cut back to get back a little quicker
and just to go in through the back and grab my apron before reappearing.

I was half way to the bar, behind the renovation, when a figure in black came out
of the shadows of the alley. “Hey, are you Eric Carpenter?” The figure asked. His
voice was masculine, rough.

“Uh, yea, I am. Who are you?” I asked as the figure walked towards me. He was tall,
matching me easily, though I couldn’t really tell what his build was like from the
shadows surrounding him.

“You talked with Raymond Francis last night, yea?”

“Yea, bu-“ I didn’t have time to finish my sentence. The man moved faster than I could
have imagined. He scooped me up by my Aerosmith t-shirt and slammed me against the
wall of the alley. “Freaking ay!” I hissed as the figure pinned me against the wall.

His face drew closer, and even in the dark, I could make out his features. He was
gaunt, with sunken eyes and a jawbone that looked particularly fierce. “The name is
Darius, and it will be the last thing you know.” His lips peeled back, revealing a
pair of wicked fangs that stood out from the rest of his teeth.

I had never met a vampire before. Sure, they were a larger part of San Francisco’s
arcane population, compared to the rest of America. But that didn’t mean they were
everywhere. I stuck to human circles, for the most part, and I was a pretty clean
guy.

It was plenty scary the first time. Darius’s strength was something new to me. I’m
not skinny guy, though most it’s muscle. But here I was getting tossed around like
I was a child’s rag doll.

“What do you want?” I squirmed against Darius’s grip.

“Knowledge.” His tongue seemed abnormally long in the dark, flicking against my jugular.
I shuddered. Goosebumps prickled against my skin. Every single sense in my body told
me that this was trouble, that I needed to run. But I couldn’t.

“I don’t know anything. Listen, man, I just met the guy last night before he died.”

“So you say. The truth, however, will let itself be known.” He leaned his head in
and sniffed at my skin. “Something is off…”

“What the hell, man?” I didn’t know any of the vampire habits back then. I should
have. I would have known what to expect.

His fangs were an instant fire when they pierced my skin. I would say that I toughed
it out like a good trooper, but in reality I whimpered. Fear, pain, helplessness.
They all flooded through me as he lapped blood from the punctures. Every cell in my
body was shouting at me, telling me to run, to do anything to make the pain end. But
I was helpless. As he drank, the only things keeping me from falling over were the
wall and Darius’s fierce grip.

“Hey, vampire.” I felt Darius’s grasp break, letting go of me. I fell down to the
floor, discarded for the moment. More pain came as I hit the concrete. I looked to
see the source of the voice.

It was Amy, the clerk from the book store. She wore a pair of canvas trousers, a black
tank top, and had a wicked looking knife in one hand, with a short wide blade. The
tall skinny
 
blonde woman definitely didn't look like the pleasant clerk now.

“What the hell do you want, bitch?” Darius spat. “Me and the boy here are just having
some fun.”

Amy flipped the knife to her left hand, and she raised her right. Her voice changed,
down to a deeper tone that seemed to resonate into me. “Back, vampire. Or would you
like to complete the process of death?”

When she spoke, it was like a hundred lights sparked to life inside of me. I felt
better, like everything would be all right. It was instinctual, like something in
her voice spoke to my genes.

Darius ran like he’d just seen the entire Life League. Amy didn’t pursue him, but
instead folded the knife in to its handle and stowed it on her belt. She walked over
to me, taking a moment to kneel next to me. “First time being bit by a vampire?”

“Uh, yea.” I looked up at her. “What the hell was that, with your voice?”

She shook her head. “We need to get out of here first. Can you get off work?” Amy
helped me sit up. I was woozy, from the blood loss, but I felt a little fortified
at least for the moment.

“Um, yea. I’ll tell him I got attacked. Terry will understand.” I stood, a little
wobbly on my feet. It took me a few minutes to walk back to the bar, even with Amy’s
help. “So, uh, what should I expect? I don’t really read up on vampire bites much.”

“Your body chemistry will shift subtly. Other vampires can smell a bite, and those
who are bitten are noted as such for life.” She put one of my arms around her shoulders,
helping me to stand. She was a lot stronger than I would have given her credit for.

“Oh, fantastic.” I deadpanned. “I’m not going to die and rise again, am I?”

She laughed. “No. For that, you must be drained, then drink of a vampire’s blood.
You will not grow fangs.”

I furrowed my brow. “Your speech pattern’s changed. You’re more formal than Amy in
the book store.”

“A cover. I have to keep it going. I will explain more when we are off the street.”

Terry was livid when I told him I got bit. But, after telling him that I needed to
get to a hospital, he relented. Amy guided me out to the street, and told me to wait
while she went off. I leaned against a lamp post as I waited.

It was about five minutes before Amy pulled up in a green jeep. “Get in.” She said,
and I did.

She started to drive, definitely not towards the hospital. “Where are we going?”

“A safe haven. Listen, and listen well, Eric. Can you do that?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Fantastic,” she said. “I am a guardian, Eric, for starters.”

“Like what, an angel?”

She laughed, though there was sorrow in that laugh. “If only. In another lifetime,
perhaps. But I am an immortal, and through a pact that was made before you were born,
it is time for me to assume a role of protection in your life.”

“A pact?” I asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There were people who decided that you were worth protecting. Your mother, for one.”

“My mother?” My voice went quiet. I only had a name to use as reference to my mother.
She had lived off the radar, from what inquiries I’d done in high school. The woman
had barely existed before my father met her, from what I’d found in government records.
Victoria Carpenter nee Torres had married my father five months before I was born,
and my father had died in a car crash two months after that. My grandparents, my father's
parents, had welcomed Victoria into the family, and for three months, my mother had
lived under their roof. But she was private about her past. Hell, it hadn't even seemed
like she had one. She was an enigma, one that I had been unable to piece together.