Chapter 16: Confrontations
“We’re sorry, that number is no longer in service.”
In desperation, I had called Colin again. Why did I think a number no longer in service would be back? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I’d gone insane. This entire experience had pushed me over the edge. I almost threw the phone down a gutter but no, I needed it. I still needed my lifeline to Joyce.
It took only five minutes to run from the Concordance Therapy studio to the Jill Thorman Real Estate office. In my hideous blue and yellow tracksuit, I looked like a jogger, someone weird enough to exercise in the town’s small, crowded business district. Jill’s place was locked up, but I knew the alarm code. Balling up my fist in the track suit’s top, I busted in the back window then entered the code before it signaled the alarm company.
Moving with speed, I made for Jill’s office. I found her electric stun gun in the top drawer. Then I tossed her file cabinet, combing through the ‘B’s.’ Something she’d said earlier came back:
Braden. Private person, I’ve only dealt with her lawyer.
I found the Braden file and with it the lawyer’s number. It turned out to be Ann Tolliver of Tolliver & Turner. I knew them, they vetted contracts for us. I’d met Ann a few times: a dry, somewhat distant older woman with silver hair and floral print blouses. Her office must be closed at this hour, but I found her home address in Jill’s file.
I parked Mr. Reliable a few houses down from Ann Tolliver’s townhouse and rang the bell. What I intended approached insanity, but what else could I do?
Ann answered the door, looking surprised in a smart pantsuit under a full-blown lace apron. Stitched on front of the apron was a frog in a chef’s hat and the words: Kiss the Cook. She wrinkled her patrician nose at my ill-fitting tracksuit and sweaty face. “May I help you?”
“I’m sorry about this,” I said, grabbing her by the arm and forcing her inside. Jill’s stun-gun waved in my hand. “But I’m desperate.”
She backed into the house, remaining calmer than she had any right to be. Maybe working as a lawyer toughened you up, brought you into contact with dangerous, desperate characters—like me. “I know you,” she said. “You’re that Butterfly woman Jill’s always complaining about.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Listen. You have a client named Cherise Braden. I need her phone number, her address, right now.”
The woman looked at me as if I’d gone mad. Perhaps I had. “This is most irregular.”
“My mother’s life is in danger!”
“Then call the police.”
“I can’t! They won’t do anything. They wouldn’t even know where to go.”
She shot a glance toward the kitchen. There were no other voices in the house. I didn’t know if she lived alone or not. “Fine,” she said, pulling her arm free. “Step into my office.”
I followed her down the hall to a private office, trying not to let her get too far ahead of me and keeping the stun-gun aimed at her back.
Ms. Tolliver ignored the implied threat, flicking on the lights and waking up her desktop computer with a shake of the mouse. “Braden, huh? I had a bad feeling about her.”
“Why?” I asked.
“That falls under the heading of lawyer-client confidentiality,” she said. She punched a few buttons and the printer whirred. “There. Address and phone number. Take it and get out. My casserole is burning.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing the printout and checking the details. “Uh, don’t call the police or anything, or…”
“Or what?” She smirked at me, arms folded. “You’re no criminal, Rowan, I can see that. Don’t do anything worse than you’ve already done. You’ll regret it. I’m not a defense attorney anymore, but I can recommend a few good names after you’re arrested.”
“Will you call the police?”
She shot me a pained look then shooed me out of her office. “Yes. So, run along now.”
I put the lawyer’s words out of mind as I drove to Cherise’s address. They could do whatever they wanted to me after I rescued my mom.
Strange—or not—but Cherise lived in a Victorian mansion atop of Lotomaw Hill, only a few miles above the Murder House. Her mansion wasn’t on the same street but higher up the crest, a place reached only by a long, winding scenic drive called Buckmeadow Road. In fact, I had to park at the cul-de-sac of Buckmeadow and get out and walk. Her house sat at the end of a private road at the top of the hill, beyond a pair of locked iron gates.
Even the cul-de-sac near the gates offered a breathtaking view of the Pacific. The late afternoon sun clung to the western horizon, a brilliant ball not yet sunk below the waves. It was the dying moments of the day.
A dozen sports cars and luxury sedans were parked on a large, gravel-strewn turnout in the front of the house. Lights played across the porch and the din of music and laughter came down the drive. It sounded like a dinner party.
Is this what vampires did when they weren’t creating monsters and terrorizing innocents? Shouldn’t they be hiding from the daylight? How I longed for the warm, pure rays of the sun to burn right through these Bradens, the whole lot of them. Yet none of them—Colin, Desiree, or Cherise—had seemed affected.
The gate was locked but it had an intercom so guests could be buzzed in. A sign hung from the lock, festooned with balloons and ribbons. It read: Burke’s A-Day!
My teeth ground together. A-Day? What was an A-Day? Like a birthday, but… Ascension?
A sacrifice to the darkness for his ascension.
Mom!
The lock defeated me. I needed a plan and I didn’t have Dr. Who backing me up. Still, if the Bradens were having a party, Colin might be here. Maybe even Xerxes the fence jumper. But I’d stand out like a clown at a wedding party in my borrowed tracksuit.
For a few minutes, I lingered at the gate, listening to the din floating down the drive. The buzz of conversation hung on the early evening breeze, but I couldn’t pick out any voices. Now and then a laugh cut through the din, or a loud and boisterous voice, male or female. But I didn’t recognize any.
An engine roared behind me, a vehicle struggling up the steep ascent of Buckmeadow Road. I caught a glimpse of a green and white sheriff’s SUV. Instinct took over and I vanished behind the hedge separating wall from sidewalk. Had Tolliver called the cops that fast? She must have—she knew where to send them, too.
The SUV parked behind Mr. Reliable. A car door opened, closed. But the deputy walked past my Honda and toward the gate. He stood there, not five feet away.
Heart in my throat, I peeked through the bushes. What was the holdup?
It was Deputy Sam Wabash, the man who’d taken the report about my mother then did nothing to find her. Yet as soon as that lawyer called, he got off his butt and drove up here! That wasn’t fair.
He pressed the door buzzer and waited. After a minute or two, the intercom hissed.
“Yeah?” said a familiar, male voice. Even through the hiss of electronic speakers, I recognized Colin’s brogue. Colin!
“This is Deputy Sam Wabash with the Umawa County Sheriff’s Department. I’ve got a report about an intruder on your property.”
“No, nobody here reported an intruder.”
“I understand, sir. The report came from an informant.”
“I don’t know a thing about it,” Colin said.
The deputy put his hands on his hips. “Something going on up there?”
“Oh, aye. A private little shindig. A birthday celebration, you might say.”
“Mind if I come on up and mosey around a bit? Our tip said your intruder might try crashing your party.”
Colin hesitated. The speaker went mute and perhaps he talked it over with someone else in the mansion. After a moment, the intercom hissed back on. “Aye, come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”
The gate latch clicked and the deputy opened it. He stepped through and onto the path. The Bradens couldn’t be up to anything terrible if they let the cops in. Right?
For a split second, I hesitated. I could hit the intercom and try to get Colin’s attention. But the deputy might overhear me. Instead, I slipped out of the bush and grabbed the gate before it clanked shut, staying on the outside—for now.
A glance through the bars assured me that Deputy Wabash hadn’t heard anything. The music from on high drowned out background sounds. He continued up the path, sweeping his forest ranger’s cap off his head and pausing to stare at the sunset.
Come on, get moving you do-nothing! I grit my teeth. Get up there and arrest those Bradens!
After a moment, he replaced his hat and continued up the drive. When I judged him a safe distance away, I opened the gate then let it shut, silent, behind me as I stepped inside. I then slipped behind another hedgerow and slunk up the side of the house. Creeping past tool sheds, hedgerows, and formal gardens brought me closer to the party. Squatting in the rose bushes, I could see a few dozen men and women in dinner jackets and evening gowns milling about.
The party spilled out of a ballroom and onto a patio, the guests standing in knots on the dance floor or near the pool. A few danced. Classical music played from speakers. Most clutched long-stemmed champagne flutes. Such opulence looked out of place in Port Selkie.
A buzz ran through the celebrants as people moved out of the way. Deputy Wabash came through the crowd, distinct in his green police uniform. At his side walked—Colin!
I’d prepared myself to see him again. Yet it didn’t help. There he was, broad-shouldered and erect, moving through the crowd in a note-perfect black dinner jacket and bowtie, showing the officer the grounds.
Seeing him again stirred up every spectacular high and depressing low I’d endured the last week. Oh, Colin. What did you do to me? Why did you abandon me? Why did you run off and leave me? But I had to focus. I had to confront him at the right moment.
My chance came fifteen minutes later. Colin escorted the deputy around the grounds then walked him back down the driveway, toward the gate. I followed at a discreet distance, creeping low and keeping behind garbage cans, parked cars, and hedge rows. It was a minor miracle that neither man detected me. Maybe I’d been in the wrong field all along: I should have gone into burglary instead of real estate. Might have made more money.
“If you have any problems, you’ve got my card,” Deputy Wabash said.
“Aye, that I do. Night, now.”
“Good night.” The gate clattered shut and the deputy’s boots crunched across the gravel, back toward his car.
I was still hiding behind the hedgerow, wondering what to say, when Colin surprised me.
“You can come out now, Rowan.”
Terror froze me in place. He’d known all along! What should I do?
“Rowan?” he called, more urgent. “It’s all right, lass.”
Sheepish, I rose to my feet and look at him over the hedgerow. Our eyes met and at once resumed that sympathy between us, that understanding I’d come to treasure in Paris. But now he greeted me with a stern expression, as if I’d done something wrong.
For some reason, I felt like a child caught by the teacher. Maybe it was the mortal-immortal power dynamic, maybe it was my ridiculous tracksuit, maybe it was me hiding behind the bushes like a cat burglar. But I stood there, slouching and red-faced. Pookie had grabbed my tongue and run off with it.
“Come out, sweetie,” he said. Like that, his disapproving look vanished. Sunlight flooded his face as he smiled, the dimples breaking out across his lower cheeks.
“Colin,” I said, my voice chilled and small. “What’s happening?”
He took my hand and helped me around the hedge. “It’s all right, now. Everything’s fine.”
“Your phone stopped working!”
For answer, he held out his arms and I fell into them. Strong fingers stroked my hair. He’d forgiven me. I forgave him. Everything could be like before, at least in that one, long, lingering moment of that unexpected, unlooked for, unanticipated hug. I needed him, needed to hold onto him, to have him near. I needed him to help me, to put everything right. I’d tried and done my best on my own but with these Bradens, this dinner party, the police—I was out of my league. I was a youth soccer league player thrust into the Olympics. It would never do.
“Where’s my mother?” I said at last.
“Don’t fret, lass,” he said, cradling my head on his shoulder. “She’s safe, you don’t have to worry.”
“I don’t? Then where is she!”
“Hush, hush,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’ll explain everything, but not here.”
“Then where!” I hissed back, digging my hands into his jackets. “I will not be put off or stalled any longer.”
“Fair enough, lass. Fair enough. This way.” He grabbed my elbow and guided me along a dark garden path, away from the illuminated street and the people-filled house. We passed between a garden shed and a gazebo, moving through a shadowy part of the mansion grounds. The path ended in a tree-lined clearing beneath an ancient redwood tree. A huge swing, not for children, but an intricate and carven loveseat, dangled from one sturdy limb.
We came to a halt, facing the sea. This spot was distant enough from the house that the music and voices took on a faraway tone. The dipping sun left purple and orange streaks across the sky. Somewhere, a gull cried and an owl hooted. Pine pollen lingered in the breeze.
He turned toward me and took my hands. He put one to his lips and kissed. “Rowan, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“I’ll try,” I said, aching yet anxious. “But where’s my mom?”
He glanced at his watch: gold Rolex, diamond-studded. “In about ten minutes, on a flight back to Arizona.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” He handed me a new cell phone, different than his last. “Here, call her.”
I picked up the phone, recognized my mom’s number programmed in. I dialed.
“Hello, Colin?” came her voice. “I can’t talk long, we’re boarding.”
“Mom!” I shouted, jumping up and down for joy. “You’re okay!”
“Rowan! Hi, baby. Yes, I’m fine. Apparently, that ex-husband of yours thought you got kidnapped and tricked me in coming back to Port Selkie. But your Australian boyfriend cleared it all up.”
“But—but what happened?”
“I can’t explain now. They’re making me board. Call me and Joyce later! Love you!”
“Love you, mom.” I hung up and gave the phone to Colin. “I don’t get it. Your phone went out of service. Desiree’s did, too.”
“Our phone numbers churn on random days, a security measure. The new numbers are distributed only in-clan, need-to-know.”
“That’s—that’s stupid! How can people call you in an emergency?”
“We have answering machines, like the number for Braden Services. Otherwise, we’re a ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ outfit. It slipped my mind that your number wasn’t on the list yet. That’s all.”
“So, you’re not avoiding me?”
“Avoiding you? Is that what you thought?”
“Yes, Colin!”
“I’d never avoid you, Butterfly, never.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I love you.”
Words I’d never imagined I’d hear from a man I’d never dared hoped would say them. Once on the phone and again, here. I couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak. My mind didn’t know how to respond to that. But my body did. It pressed against him, heart pounding.
He pulled me down onto the tree-swing. “I’ll tell you everything, starting from that day in the Catacombs. Okay?”
“Yes!”
“Okay,” he said, cradling my hand again and kissing it. “It started that day, when I got a message from Cherise. She said Burke went after your mother.”
“Wait, Cherise told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t know where your mother lived, thought I might know.”
“I meant, why would she rat out Burke?”
“Ah,” he said. “Your mother lives in Sedona, Arizona.”
I waited for him to elaborate but he failed to do. “So what?”
“That’s not Braden territory. Hell’s bells, lass, it’s not even within the Kingdom of Dagon. If we go poaching sheep—no offense—off another clan’s turf, it can start a bloody war. It’s like an old-fashioned cattle raid. You don’t do it.”
I pulled my hand away. “That’s what we are to you. Domesticated beasts.”
“No, lass, no. Not at all. Poor choice of words. I like to think of you as citizens under our protection. Or in the case of your mother, under the protection of the Cosmic Lodge.”
“The what?”
“Another realm—I don’t choose the names. The rub here is, that fool of a Burke ran off to do your mother harm. I texted Cherise back right away, let her know that your mother lived in Sedona, Arizona and she needed to get a collar on him before he starts a bloody clan war. She tried, but later sent another text saying she couldn’t find Burke or your mom. I’m worried now and screaming at her to get her thrall under control. I’m also yelling at Xerxes and Armando. Like I said, taking blood in another realm is bad news. But things didn’t get any better. Nobody could find Burke. So that guy, not even a fledgling, is wandering around another kingdom. Armando gets angry and sends Xerxes and Cherise out to find him. That’s when I got on the plane to sort it out.”
I frowned, having a hard time putting this together. “Why hide all this from me?”
“You were having so much fun in Paris. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Fun?”
“Wasn’t it?” He smiled, squeezed my hand.
“Well, yes. But mom—you found her?”
“Aye, we tracked her down to the Lotomaw House. Burke had her there—I took her away and sent her home. She’s safe, none the worse for wear. Thinks it was all just some paranoid meth fantasy cooked up by Burke.”
“I guess that’s plausible.”
“She’s fine, I promise.”
“I know, I talked to her. But why’d Burke do something like that? Did Cherise put him up to it?”
“She’s the one who ratted him out.”
“So? She’s crafty. You don’t think she couldn’t have played it both ways?”
He leaned in and kissed me. “The thought’s crossed my mind. But don’t worry about it now.”
“How can I not worry about it? What if she does it again? What if Burke does? What will it take for me and my mom and Joyce and even Pookie for that matter to be safe?”
“I think you know.”
Suddenly, his hand felt cold. I knew what he meant. “I must be Blooded. Like Burke.”
“That’s one way. I promise I’m a far easier sire than friend Cherise.”
“I’m not doing that! I don’t want a ‘dark embrace’ or whatever you call it.”
He squeezed me, powerful arms encircling me. “I know it’s not for you.”
“So, what happens?”
“You think your Mom and Joyce and Pookie could stand a trip away from home?”
“Paris?”
“New Zealand, this time.”
The enormity of his suggestion hit me. To uproot their lives because my ex-husband put them in danger… “I don’t know, Colin. I just don’t know.”
“There now, lass,” he said, cradling my head. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”
My lips found his in the dark and the touching made it better—for the moment. The sun fell below the level of the sea. Scarlet clouds stretched across the horizon as twilight deepened its grip on the land.
Only when I felt renewed, recharged, revitalized, did I break that kiss. My eyes left his steely gaze and turned outward. “You said ‘I love you.’ ”
“I did at that,” he agreed, amiable again.
“Did you mean it?”
“I never go back on my word.”
“Dez said … you couldn’t love. Because you’d hurt someone once, because of what you’d become. But you didn’t mean to.”
A sorrow passed over his face, a cloud passing before the moon. “Aye, tis true.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
He worried his lip, frowning. Then he spun toward me, pulled me into his arms again, stroked my cheek. “I do have to tell you. I’m afraid it’s happening again.”
“It can’t happen again—whatever happened. I know what you are. What you’ve become. And I don’t care. I—I love you too, Colin.”
“I know,” he smiled. Laughter glinted in his eyes.
In spite of it all, I laughed too. “What are you, Han Solo now?”
He kissed my nose. “Haven’t got a starship.”
“I wish you did. A Timelord’s Tardis, something to get us off this crazy world.” My chest rose and fell, the stress falling away. “Now what?”
“I better get back to the party before they wonder what happened to me. You too.”
Colin helped me off the seat and, still holding my hand, led me toward the house. It took a moment for his words to sink in. Combined with where we were headed. “Wait, what?”
“Come to the party. Technically, you’re under my protection since I claimed you before my clan. There are others here tonight, not just Bradens. We’ve got Eibons, Vlacs, Aguilars, even some indies and a bunch of golden fleece—wealthy locals, I mean. Friends of the clan who don’t know what we’re all about. Let everyone see us together.”
“Dressed like this? I have nothing to wear. Someone stole my luggage. Do you know anything about that?”
He looked surprised. “No, but there’s a wardrobe upstairs. Come on, we’ll use the tradesman’s door and go up the back way. No one will see that barmy suit.”
“Tradesman’s door,” I said, shaking my head as we approached the dark rear of the house. He did have such uncommon things to say.