Keeper of the Dawn

Chapter 5

Alessande had to admit that the House of Illusion was spectacular. With the exception of the coat check off to one side, the foyer felt like the entrance to a medieval fortress, and the room just beyond kept up the impression, resembling a king’s great hall.

The impression was deliberate. The House of Illusion had been built in the 1890s specifically to resemble a medieval castle. There was a massive bar to the right of the great hall, and the numerous plank tables with bench seating could accommodate hordes of drinkers. Straight ahead was an open performance space that kept up the illusion of walking farther into the depths of a castle. The entrance to a small restaurant stood open just past the bar, while a hallway on the opposite wall led to the Magician’s Cave, a small venue where young magicians could practice their trade.

“There’s a staging area in the basement, and trust me, it’s creepy,” Sailor said as they moved deeper into the club. “The three of us had just started out as Keepers when a few vicious rebels decided to challenge the old order, and they nearly succeeded. But that’s all in the past,” she finished cheerfully.

Alessande smiled, fascinated. She’d been here once in the early days, because the Others could be just as fascinated by illusion and magic as any human. And the House of Illusion was as magical as any real castle. Even she couldn’t help but feel a bit awed by being here.

A tall man with white hair and a dignified demeanor was politely greeting people as they entered the great hall. When he saw them, his eyes lit up. “Sailor Gryffald! And who have we here? No, don’t tell me.” He lowered his voice. “You’re Alessande Salisbrooke, correct?”

“Come on, Jerry,” Sailor said, grinning. “That wasn’t much of a feat of mind reading—you knew that we were coming.”

“Guilty as charged. But, Alessande, I do remember you from years and years ago. Thankfully, you’re an Elven and I’m a vampire, so all those years don’t matter much, do they?” he teased.

“Is Rhiannon here?” Sailor asked, forestalling any discussion of the old days in favor of making progress on solving the problem at hand.

“Yes, and are you working tonight, as well? Or are you only here to see the show?”

Sailor laughed. “I’m just here to see the show, though I suppose I should have asked Barrie if I could afford a night off—she’s our queen of household finance.”

Jerry waved a hand in the air. “The old days were so much easier. If I was hungry, I fed upon an unwary traveler—oh, don’t look so worried. I drank, but I never killed. And if I needed a place to stay, I hypnotized a nobleman and took over his house. These days, I pay bills just like everyone else. Come on. Rhiannon is doing an early set in the bar, and then she’ll be free to sit with you. She has a late-night gig at the Snake Pit, so I assume you’ll all be heading that way later.”

Alessande wasn’t all that fond of the Snake Pit—it was mainly an after-hours place for Others to hang out without worrying about letting their true nature slip, and she hadn’t been particularly social for many years. She attended all the Elven councils, of course, but only because she didn’t feel she really had a choice. She had been there when Sailor, as a newly minted Elven Keeper, had faced and defeated the Celebrity Virus, but her involvement had been accidental rather than intentional.

For so long she’d been happy in the background, using her skill with potions to help her fellow Others—and even humans—live happier and healthier lives. Staying in her own little world had been easy.

“There’s Barrie,” Sailor said. “We should go join her.”

Just then they heard a smattering of applause. Alessande looked over to see that Rhiannon had entered the room wearing a medieval gown. It suited her. She carried her guitar and took up a position on the bar’s small stage. Alessande saw Declan and Mick join Barrie at the table, talking casually to each other, but she didn’t think for a minute that they were as nonchalant as they appeared.

“Welcome to the House of Illusion,” Rhiannon said. “The real show will begin soon, but in the meantime...”

She began to sing as Alessande followed Sailor to join Barrie and the others.

“We’ve seen him. He’s here,” Barrie said excitedly as soon as they were seated.

“Who?” Alessande asked.

“Greg Swayze! The man who wrote Death in the Bowery.”

* * *

Mark was getting tired of chasing down suspected criminals. Why couldn’t they just stop and wait like civilized human beings once it was clear there was no escape? He could, of course, call on his vampire speed, but that would attract attention. Even so, he might have to resort to that, because this perp could run like a son of a gun.

The human had knocked over trash cans and newspaper stands and anything he could find along the way, forcing Mark to hop, veer and twist in an effort to catch up.

Screw it.

He went into vamp mode and stopped ten feet in front of his suspect. The man saw him, and his eyes widened, but he was too close to stop and slammed straight into Mark. With considerable effort, Mark kept them both upright, and he instantly spun the man around and cuffed him.

“Hey!” his prisoner protested. “You can’t do this! Am I under arrest? You haven’t read me my rights.”

“I can do this—for resisting arrest if nothing else.”

“But—”

Mark sighed and read the man his rights, then informed him that he was under arrest for battery.

“Battery? I didn’t hurt anyone. I mean yeah, we were arguing, but just normal boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. I—”

“That young woman you were with is half dead, thanks to whatever drug you gave her.”

“Hey, I didn’t make her take anything.”

“We’ll have to ask her that, won’t we?”

“You have to prove—”

“I don’t have to prove anything until you’re arraigned,” Mark said. “Let’s go. I’d like to get back to the fine hotel where you were taking the lady to ‘rest.’”

The guy’s shoulders slumped as all the fight went out of him, and he went peacefully.

At the hotel, Mark found that an ambulance had already arrived and the young woman was on her way to the hospital. And Brodie briefed Mark on the rest to bring him current on this case. Brodie had called in the situation to Lieutenant Edwards next.

Then the girl had roused long enough to tell Brodie that her name was Chelsea Rose. She was a local, a hostess at an upscale restaurant in Beverly Hills and an acting hopeful. Thereafter she had lapsed back into unconsciousness and he’d called her parents, who would be meeting her at the hospital.

The prisoner was Terry Steiner; by the time they had him in the car to bring him to the station, he was talking a blue streak.

“Look, I just heard about this stuff—they said it was better than Ecstasy. You find a girl, and she’s yours. I’m crazy about Chelsea—I’d never hurt her. I’ve used every cent I’ve made to go to that lousy high-priced rip-off joint where she works just to see her. I talked her into an adventure today once she was done with her shift. We bought the stuff—hell, neither one of us knew it was going to knock her out!”

“Where did you get it?” Mark demanded. The kid was no Other; he had no special powers. His story rang true. “And where did you hear about it?”

“Man, everyone’s heard about it,” Steiner said. “But finding someone who knows where to get it... I was at a club, and I heard some guys next to me saying you could buy it on the street.”

“On the street where?” Brodie asked.

He gave them the address. Mark and Brodie looked at one another.

Terry Steiner had bought the drug just around the corner from the Snake Pit.

* * *

“How can we manage to talk to him?” Barrie asked thoughtfully.

Alessande smiled. Barrie was an investigative reporter, one of the best in the city. But because she was such a good reporter, she overthought things at times. “I know how,” she said. “Where is he?”

“To the left of the stage, and he’s totally into Rhiannon.”

Alessande looked in the direction Barrie had pointed out.

Greg Swayze appeared to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was dark, cut short, with a lock that fell over his forehead. He was seated, so she couldn’t judge his height, but he had a medium build and looked very fit.

“It’s easy,” Alessande said, smiling. “Watch and learn.” She made her way between tables until she reached his. There was room next to him on the bench, so she sat down. He was so entranced by Rhiannon that he didn’t even notice her at first, so she tried to get a feel for him.

He wasn’t, she determined, any kind of Other. He was human.

At last he turned her way. “Well. Hello.”

“Hi,” Alessande said.

He smiled, and she called on her Elven talents, willing herself to be as seductive as possible. His smiled turned to a slight frown, and she wondered if he knew there were such things as Elven. Or maybe he just sensed something different about her.

She quickly read his mind. She didn’t get much.

I’d like to get this one in bed! Legs that stretch forever. And in damned good shape.

“You’re Greg Swayze,” she said.

He seemed startled that she knew, and he blinked and looked at her chest instead of her eyes. That was a problem for any woman of course, but especially so for Elven women. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met, no. But of course I know who you are.”

“You do? That’s interesting. Most people know actors and actresses. Actors and actresses know the top agents and producers and directors—and even casting agents. I’m just a writer. The bottom rung of the ladder. No one knows me.”

She smiled. “That’s not true. You’re not just any writer. You write a screenplay, and you hang on to it. You stick with the project. No one rewrites you a thousand times just so a new name can go on the credits. Producers and directors, not to mention actors and actresses, trust you.”

He laughed at that. “I had one success. One tremendous success, I admit. And that’s because I made a cheap movie that more or less went viral and made a fortune.”

“I loved it,” Alessande lied. She’d never even seen the thing.

“Ah! You’re an actress. I should have realized it, given the way you look. Obviously you want a part in my new film. Well, don’t worry. If they don’t cast you, call me and I’ll get you in somewhere. I’ll bet the camera loves you. What have you done?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “But I am going in to audition tomorrow. I’m waiting for my time. Will you be there?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he admitted. “But now...you can count on it.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll be coming with a friend,” she said.

“Oh?”

She pointed out Sailor.

“Very pretty girl,” he said. He looked back at Alessande. “But there’s only one lead role.”

“But there are...victims, right?” Alessande asked.

He nodded. “Can I buy you a drink?” He leaned closer. For a moment, she read his thoughts again.

Oh, man, this is cool. Most actresses know writers don’t have much power, so they ignore us. But this one... She’s hot and blonde and tall, and I could get lucky tonight.

Alessande stood quickly. “I would love to, but I’m here with friends, and I don’t... Well, when I make a date, even with friends, I keep it. Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Swayze. Your work is really remarkable.”

He looked up at her, and she caught his eyes and read his mind for a minute.

She’s stunning, and so bright. I have to have her....

She turned away quickly. She’d done everything she’d needed to do.

As she returned to her table, Declan started to move to make room for her. She quickly shook her head.

It was important that she not appear to be attached to either of the men in any way. She looked meaningfully at Barrie, who quickly slid over to give her room.

But just as she sat down, someone slipped in next to her.

She turned to see who it was, and dismay filled her as she realized that Mark Valiente had just joined her.

“Don’t sit there, please!” she said quickly.

“Look, I know you have a thing against vampires—”

“I like vampires just fine. It’s just—”

“Just that you have something against me?”

“No! Please. I’m working on getting a role in Death in the Bowery.”

He sighed, looking down. “Listen, Alessande, that screenplay may have nothing to do with this.”

“Or it may have everything to do with it.”

He winced, gritting his teeth. “Is that the guy—the screenwriter—over there?”

“Yes.”

“All right, give me the brush-off,” he said.

He turned to look at her as if he had just discovered her, a lone woman, sitting where a man could hit on her.

“Um, leave, please?” she asked.

He smiled slightly, and he was suddenly absolutely charming. “You don’t give a brush-off very well.”

She stood, staring down at him. “Get the hell away from me,” she said.

It was perfect. Her voice carried. People turned.

“Fine. Have a nice night!” Mark said, standing. Then he added softly, “I won’t be far. We have to head to the Snake Pit soon.”

Alessande didn’t acknowledge his words as she sat again and turned to the other women. “He said he’d see us at the Snake Pit as soon as Rhiannon finishes.”

“Swayze keeps watching you,” Barrie said.

“He seemed pleased when you blew off Mark,” Sailor commented.

“Let’s hope he’s watching both of us,” Alessande said.

“If he gets a say in casting the leading lady, the part is yours.”

Alessande smiled. “Yes, but if the movie’s legit and the screenplay had nothing to do with the kidnappings, you’re the real actress. It would be a great role for you.”

“I’m a Keeper first,” Sailor said.

“But even Keepers are allowed to dream and have real lives,” Alessande said.

There was a burst of applause as Rhiannon finished her set and announced that they were all invited to move into the next room and watch the magic show.

Alessande felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Brodie.

“Luckily we only have three cars here, so no one will be alone. You’re with Mark and me.”

“But—”

“Swayze just went into the show. He won’t see anything.”

Barrie took her arm, urging her toward the door. “Let’s move fast, just for safety.”

* * *

When Alessande was seated in the back of Brodie’s car—she’d insisted on the backseat; she was tall, but Mark and Brodie were taller—she leaned back, tired and confused. “I’m not sure why we didn’t stay to watch the show. Tonight’s magician is a shifter. And I can tell you this, shapeshifters are involved.”

“We need to find out what’s going on at the Snake Pit,” Mark said.

“Then ask Declan Wainwright. He owns the place!” Alessande snapped.

“I managed to speak with Declan when we arrived,” Brodie said. “He knows we’re on the hunt.”

“What is going on at the Snake Pit? I can’t believe that Declan—”

“No, but I believe someone who hangs out at the Snake Pit is involved. They’re selling a drug called XF, real name Transymil, on the streets,” Mark explained.

“There’s a girl still in the hospital who took some earlier today,” Brodie said.

“And a kid in jail swearing that he thought they were just doing some new form of Ecstasy,” Mark said.

“I can’t believe they’re selling it on the streets now.” Alessande felt cold. The idea of it becoming widely disseminated was really scary.

“Alessande,” Brodie said slowly. “Can you...can you do anything about that?”

“About what?” she asked.

“The poor girl remains unconscious. The hospital is struggling, because they haven’t got the chemical breakdown of the drug, so they don’t know how to counter it. Could you come up with an antidote?”

“I...I don’t know. I’ve never tried to make one. Transymil’s always been kept among Others, and they usually make it back all right from a trip,” she said.

“But you could try, right?” Mark asked.

She nodded. “I’d have to get to my house, though.”

“Tomorrow,” Brodie said.

“I have an audition tomorrow,” she said. Mark was staring at her. “We have to follow the screenplay. I know it’s important. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Right after the audition,” Mark said firmly.

“All right,” she agreed.

They drove up to the sweeping entrance of the Snake Pit. A tall, striking leprechaun named Barney came right over to the car, but he was more than a valet, Alessande knew. He was Declan’s eyes and ears, as well.

“Declan just went in. He got here ahead of you, with Sailor and Rhiannon Gryffald,” the leprechaun said.

“Thanks, Barney.” Brodie tossed him the keys. “Can you keep the car where—”

“You have easy access,” Barney said gravely. “Yes, I’ll put you at the end of the row.”

“Great. I have keyless entry, so just throw the keys under the passenger’s seat, will you?”

Barney nodded. They exited the car and headed for the door, where Mark abruptly turned away. “I’ll take the street,” he told Brodie.

“I’ll get Rhiannon and keep her with me. Whoever’s selling the stuff, he’s going after men who have women with them.”

Mark looked at Alessande skeptically. “She can come with me.”

“I’m not she. You know my name,” Alessande said.

“Sorry,” Mark said, clearly aggravated. “She is better than that vampire cop, though.”

Brodie laughed suddenly. “You two go on. Anyone watching will definitely think you need help if you’re trying to get into bed with Alessande.”

“Let’s head out, shall we?” Alessande asked. She started down the sidewalk without waiting to see if Mark was following her.

A moment later she felt his hand on her shoulder and turned around. He dusted her off, as if there had been something there.

“What was that for?” she asked him.

“Just trying to knock off the chip,” he said.

“Shall I return the favor?”

He didn’t reply, only walked silently at her side.

There was so much tension between them, she wanted to apologize; she didn’t know why he made her so defensive all the time. This was probably her fault. He’d thought he’d saved her life, and he saw that as his job, because he was a cop. But she... She had been hostile, because he seemed to think that she was...

Incompetent.

She stopped and turned and looked at him. She managed a smile. “I guess I’d better at least walk with you. I have to make it look like there’s some hope, right?”

He grinned and slid an arm around her shoulders. The warmth, the weight of it, felt good.

“We’re turning the corner, and once we do...we’ll be in a far shadier part of the city.”

“Los Angeles is that way, isn’t it?” Alessande said. “Multimillion-dollar mansions just down the block from crack houses.”

He nodded. “The dream—and then the fulfillment of the dream. Or not.”

It was so true. The Snake Pit was splendor personified, but now, right around the corner, they saw those who spent their hours on doorsteps and leaning against buildings. Some had cigarettes they barely managed to smoke; some were drinking alcohol out of containers hidden by brown paper bags.

There were a few lit storefronts, and people who were making a legitimate living at something were buying groceries, their children holding tightly to their hands.

“Down one more street—and then we need to argue about where we are,” Mark said.

“Okay,” Alessande agreed.

They turned the corner; the road sloped downward, echoing the trend in the lives of those who lived there.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Alessande said, pulling away from his hold. “You don’t have the faintest idea where we are. We’re lost!”

“I am not lost,” Mark protested. “I’m just getting my bearings.”

“Well, get them quickly. You promised me dinner—a good dinner—and then a movie. Not a walk down a dark and...” She paused to look around and lowered her voice. “A dark and dangerous street.”

“Hey, you two need some help?”

She spun around. A man was approaching them from the rear. He was in jeans and a T-shirt that advertised a heavy-metal band. He looked fairly decent, except that his jeans hadn’t seen the inside of a washer for a long time. Alessande tried to catch his eyes as he approached them.

Perfect targets.

That was all she got, and then he looked at Mark.

Mark towered above the man. “We’re fine,” he said sharply.

“We’re lost,” Alessande said at the same time.

“Well, not to worry. I can get you back to Sunset, and you should be fine after that,” the man said. “But...”

“But what?” Mark asked him.

“But...how did you manage to get yourselves here anyway? This area isn’t safe—not for someone who looks like her.”

Alessande made a move toward Mark, who put his arm around her protectively.

“Sweet. You two are a couple, right?” the man asked.

“Who are you?” Mark asked sharply.

“They call me Digger around here. I’m always digging for a way to make a living, you know?”

“Um, nice to meet you, Digger,” Alessande said.

“The pleasure is mine. So what were you doing in this area anyway? Were you by any chance looking for someone?” Digger said. “Or something?”

“There’s a guy who was supposed to set me up,” Mark admitted.

“Yeah, I figured. Well, who?”

“I don’t know. He called himself Chameleon,” Mark said.

“I don’t know this Chameleon, but maybe I could set you up.”

“What have you got?” Mark asked.

“Honey...” Alessande said nervously.

“Don’t worry,” Digger said. “I promise you, I’ll give you good stuff. I make my living on return customers.”

“He could be a cop,” Alessande whispered to Mark, but loud enough for Digger to hear.

“Lady, do I look like a cop?” Digger demanded.

“No, and that’s why you could be one.”

“What do you have?” Mark asked.

“All the usual stuff...”

“We don’t want the usual,” Mark said. “We’re looking for something different.”

“Well, I got a little pill I guarantee you’ve never had before.” Digger inclined his head toward Alessande, giving Mark a conspiratorial wink. “It could melt the polar ice caps.”

“I’ll take two,” Mark said.

“You just need one, but it never hurts to be ready for next time. And when you find out that you’ve gotten the next best thing to heaven, you know where to find me.”

“Where do you get these from anyway?” Mark asked.

“Oh, no, buddy. You don’t get my source.”

“All right, that’s fair,” Mark said.

Digger quoted a price, Mark came up with the money, and Digger gave him the pills. “Excuse me, folks. I’ll be leaving now, just in case cops are hanging out around here. Have fun!”

He took off down the street, then turned to watch them from behind the corner of a building.

Mark pulled her close and pretended to slip a pill into her mouth.

But the feel of his fingers as he’d looked into her eyes had been hypnotizing....

Of course. He’s a vampire. Vampires use their eyes to...

The brush of his fingers was followed by that of his lips. She was startled; she hadn’t expected him to take things so far.

And then there was the feel of his lips. A pressure that was confident and seductive, tinged with the sweetness of liquid fire....

She returned the kiss, accepting the warmth of his mouth, the sweep of his tongue. A heat seemed to grow in her, and she moved her fingers deftly through his hair.

They were acting, of course. This was Hollywood. Everything was an act.

And yet...

And yet she knew that she was really and truly—and possibly dangerously—attracted to him. She hadn’t let herself become involved with anyone in forever, but now she didn’t want to end the kiss or lose the feel of him, the pressure of his body, the strength of his hands...ever.

His mouth lifted just an inch from hers. “All right, we’re good. We need to walk back toward the Snake Pit, convince him we’re gone.”

“And then?” she asked. She looked into his eyes, which were a beautiful shade of gold, and then at his lips, which still seemed to whisper against her mouth and render her limbs weak and...

And hungry.

“Then we let him go tonight. We analyze the pill. You create the antidote.”

He still held her. He hadn’t moved. His fingers slowly caressed her cheek.

Acting.

“But Digger will get away. We won’t get to his source.”

“Digger has to trust us,” he whispered. “Then we’ll be able to find his source.”

“Regina is still out there.”

“I know—but we have to be patient and get the information we need.”

“They could kill her anytime. She could be—”

“She’s not dead. We will find her,” he vowed. “Now lean against me. Pretend you’re growing weak.”

That was easy enough to do. She stumbled, and not on purpose.

“Perfect,” he said softly.

And it was. She leaned against him and suddenly began to wonder about the heat that radiated from him.

He was a vampire....

He should be cold.

Instead he burned with a fire that could all too easily consume her.