The Keepers

He took her arm as they walked down the street. She wanted to wrench from his touch, but...



The lady doth protest too much, methinks, she thought.



But she was so acutely aware of him!



They reached her car.



"Good night, Fiona," he said, as he opened her door for her.



"You'll keep me apprised--of everything going on? From a cop's standpoint and a vampire's?" she inquired. He nodded.



"I have to follow up and investigate. You know that."



"Have some faith in me, please," he said.



"I'm having faith. But I'm using what I've got, too, that's all."



"I'll report in daily," he said.



"Yes, you will."



He smiled suddenly.



She frowned, looking at him. "I don't see anything to smile about in any of this, Jagger."



"Oh, certainly not. Not in the situation."



"Then?"



"You just have to have the last word, don't you?" he asked.



She didn't reply, just slid into the seat, and he closed the door. She stared at him and turned the key in the ignition. He stepped away quickly as she gunned the engine, then started to ease out onto the street.



A good exit, she told herself.



Except that she could hear his husky laughter even as she drove away.



Chapter 4



Fiona had just slipped into the long, soft cotton T-shirt she loved to wear to bed and crawled under the covers when she heard the tap on her door that announced Caitlin's arrival. Her sister knocked, but didn't wait for an invitation.



"Well?" Caitlin demanded.The room was dark, but with the hall lights on, Fiona could see her sister's anxious face.



"It's done," she said.



"Thank God," Caitlin breathed. "For some reason the media have been trying to hide the details of Tina Lawrence's life, but finally--one of the anchors started reading her police sheet, and...I literally shivered. Can you even imagine? The best vampire is a bloodthirsty beast and--"



"Caitlin, please. We know plenty of vampires who are fine citizens. And let's get serious. There's no more violent beast out there than man, when he chooses to be," Fiona argued.



Caitlin sighed softly. "Look, I know that they're your charges, but...well, I just don't believe there's ever been a truly good vampire."



Jagger DeFarge.



The name came unbidden to Fiona's mind.



She realized that despite her earlier misgivings, she believed that he was a force for good. After all, was anyone really all good or all bad? Everyone, every being, every creature, came with a form of free will, and free will led to behavior that was good, bad and everything in between.



"Jagger DeFarge was there," she told her sister. "He was already attending to the matter, as he should have been."



Caitlin sniffed. "Was he? Or did he decide he had no choice, once he saw you?"



"Caitlin, please. I have to have some faith in his ethics and his commitment to our laws. The vampires, like all creatures, are supposed to police their own, and I believe that they will do so. I also went to see David Du Lac, and I know that the higher-ups among the vampires are deeply concerned. Caitlin, they like their lives. They're not going to risk everything they have, all to protect a rogue."



Caitlin looked at her gravely, the softly glowing hall light making her appear angelic.



"I'm just worried," she said. "Worried...for you."



Fiona rose and walked over to the door, where she took her sister into a warm hug. "I understand."



They stayed close for a minute, sisters who had seen the worst. Then they broke apart, and Fiona smiled. "I'm fine, honestly. Have some faith in me, if not the vampires. The truth is, I need your help."



"My help? We're talking vampires. Not my thing, remember?" Caitlin said.



Fiona nodded. She had been born with the sign of the bat, a tiny birthmark at the base of her spine. Caitlin had been born with the sign of the mist, shape-shifting. She loved her sister's birthmark, which was magical, changing continuously, though most who saw it thought it a trick of the eye.



Shauna bore the mark of the werewolf Keeper, the wolf, howling at the moon. No tattoo artist had ever created a work of such perfection.



Their friends had marveled at the marks on those rare occasions when they'd been revealed by a low-cut bathing suit. They hadn't tried to hide them, had merely shrugged them off, leaving their friends to wonder how and when they'd come by them.



Before Fiona could reply, Shauna popped up behind Caitlin.



"So? What's going on? Do you know who did it?" she demanded.



Fiona gave up and turned on her light. "Come in. Actually I don't know--yet--but I do have a plan for finding out."



The three of them sat cross-legged on the bed as Fiona went on.



"I want to attend the luncheon at the Monteleone tomorrow."



"The lunch to honor Jennie Mahoney?" Caitlin asked, frowning.



Jennie Mahoney was the untitled queen among the shapeshifters. She was a beautiful woman, a socialite and a member of the local literati. If it was happening in New Orleans, Jennie was in on it.



She was going to be honored for the work she had done in soliciting funds to redo a coffeehouse just outside the Quarter. The place offered open mike nights to poets at least once a week, along with hosting up-and-coming musicians and decorating its walls with works by local artists. Since Jennie and several of her friends considered themselves poets, Fiona wasn't sure that all the effort Jennie had put in wasn't a little self-serving, but the coffee house had been a local landmark that was completely ruined by Katrina, and the fact that it was now open again was a big boost for a city in need of every boost it could get.



"Are you going?" Fiona asked Caitlin.



"Of course. It would be incredibly rude of me not to attend," her sister said.



"Can we all go?"



"If I'd known you wanted to go, I should have gotten tickets ages ago," Caitlin said. "Do I want to go?" Shauna asked, frowning as she looked at Fiona.



"I think all three of us should be there. I'd like to talk to Jennie," Fiona said.



Caitlin was frowning. "If you talk to Jennie, she's going to think you're suspicious of her--and her kind."



Fiona shook her head. "Not at all. I'm hoping she can tell me about anything suspicious going on."



Caitlin nodded slowly, staring at Fiona. "But you know this was the work of a vampire," she said.



"Certainly not a werewolf," Shauna said. "A werewolf...well, a werewolf kill is never subtle or pretty, you know?"



That was true, beyond a doubt.



"Caitlin, I really need your help," Fiona said.



Caitlin nodded slowly. "All right. I'll text a few people right now. The lunch was sold out weeks ago, but...there's always someone who has to cancel."



"Thank you."



"It's late. We should get some sleep," Shauna said, as she rose and yawned. "Boy, what a relief."



"What's a relief?" Caitlin asked.



"That it wasn't a werewolf."



Fiona glared at her.



"Sorry..." Shauna apologized. "I'm not saying...I mean, I'm not accusing anyone. For all we know, it might have been some drugged out weirdo who wants to be a vampire."



"No," Fiona said.



They both looked at her.



"Tina Lawrence...she started to rise from the dead."



"But you said Jagger DeFarge was there to handle the matter," Caitlin pointed out.



"Yes," Fiona said, meeting her sister's eyes. "I'm afraid it's in our jurisdiction. She was definitely killed by one of ours."



Caitlin stared at her steadily. "Good night," she said finally, then turned and left.



"What's wrong with her?" Shauna asked softly.



"She thinks I'm accusing a shapeshifter. I'm not. I just have to keep my mind open, and if it wasn't a vampire, then it had to be a shapeshifter. No other creature could take on--or pass on--the abilities of a vampire."



"It probably is the work of a vampire," Shauna said softly.



"I know," Fiona assured her, then smiled with what she hoped was reassurance. "It's our first real challenge. We will meet it."



Jagger spent his time checking out the city's streets.



Bourbon was crawling with tourists, as usual. He heard excited conversations, visitors talking about the "vampire murder," girls teasing boys about taking care of themselves in strip clubs--and boys teasing girls about the same.



A stripper-slash-prostitute had been killed. It was worthy of gossip, not of great concern.



Walking along, he came upon mounted officers, Reginald Oaks and Vickie Gomez. He slowly patted Gomez's horse, Enrique, and questioned his fellow officers about what was going on.



"Seems like a regular night in Boozeville," Vickie told him.



"Frat boys are singing karaoke, dancing in the streets, throwing beads around...it's not Mardi Gras, but it's busy. Nothing to suggest anything going on," Reginald told him. "Have you been up past Rampart?"



Jagger nodded. "I've been everywhere tonight. Uptown, Garden District, Frenchman Street...you name it. I even cruised the Central Business District. But that's the way it's going to have to be until this is settled. Anything, anything at all unusual, you have me on speed dial."



"Yes, sir," Vickie assured him, flashing a quick smile.



"Sir, there's a weaving group behind you looking for a picture with the mounted cops and the horses."



He turned away just as a group of inebriated tourists came weaving over, looking to take a picture with the horses. He started to step away.



"Oh, please. Stay," one girl told him.



"Sorry--official business," he said, flashed his badge and quickly moved away. His partner, Tony Miro, was supposed to be meeting him at Barely, Barely, Barely, the strip club up past Rampart where Tina Lawrence had worked. He hurried down the cross street to where his car was parked by the station on Chartres.