Keeper of the Dawn

Chapter 8

They arrived en masse at the Snake Pit and were seated at a perfectly situated table along one wall. Mark positioned himself where he could see anyone entering the room. Alessande was next to him, with Brodie, Sailor, Mick and Barrie taking the other chairs. Declan was doing his duty as owner and host, and Rhiannon sat on the low dais, playing the piano.

An intriguing assortment of Hollywood royalty was present already, several of them involved with Death in the Bowery. Tonight Sailor had pointed out costume designer Katrina Manville seated at a rear table with director Taylor Haywood, associate producer Tilda Lyons and casting director Milly Caulfield.

They had just ordered drinks from a lovely young were-cat waitress when Brodie’s phone rang.

Mark watched across the table as he answered it. “That’s great,” Brodie said after a few seconds, then listened for a moment more and rang off.

“Edwards?” Mark asked him.

“Yep. He said Chelsea is still extremely weak, but she’s out of the coma. The last thing she remembers is that she and her boyfriend—Steiner—had decided to score something so they could have a fun night. Her mind is still fuzzy and she’s barely able to speak, but we can interview her tomorrow.”

“It worked,” Alessande breathed. “It really worked.”

Mark smiled at her. “Yes, you saved her life.”

“Don’t look now,” Brodie said, interrupting them, “but the plot thickens.”

Mark turned casually. The Hildegard family had just entered the room. Alan was the epitome of L.A. casual in a tan sports jacket and perfectly creased trousers; Brigitte was wearing a slinky blue cocktail dress, and Charlaine...Charlaine looked regal in a long spangled creation. He wondered if she was going to offer her hand to Declan so he could kiss it.

She refrained. Instead Declan greeted her with a kiss on each cheek, Continental style. Alan Hildegard said something to Declan, who indicated the group from Death in the Bowery.

“Who is it?” Alessande asked softly.

“The Hildegards. Alan, his sister Brigitte, and their cousin Charlaine,” he explained softly.

“No Jimmy,” Brodie said.

“Who is Jimmy?” Sailor asked.

“The butler,” Mark told her.

“I was kidding,” Brodie said. “They’d never bring the butler.”

“How rude of them,” Alessande said.

“Not to that trio,” Mark said.

“Don’t judge too harshly,” Mick said, smiling. “I mean, we don’t really know them. Perhaps they’re lovely people.”

“I should know them, since they’re shapeshifters,” Barrie said. “My domain.”

“I’m pretty sure Declan only knows them because they come to the club,” Sailor said. “I’ve never met any of them.”

“And they’re joining the film crew of Death in the Bowery,” Mark said, “so there definitely is a connection.” He glanced at Barrie. “Well, you started the interviews, so you should continue.”

“I can’t just walk up to their table,” Barrie said.

“I can,” Mark told her. “Give them a minute to get settled.”

“I’d wait another minute if I were you,” Alessande said softly.

“Why?”

She indicated the doorway, where Declan was busy greeting someone else.

Greg Swayze.

“Well, this is getting interesting,” Mick murmured.

“I could become a fly and buzz on over,” Barrie suggested.

“No,” Mick told her. “They’re shapeshifters, they might suspect.”

“Only the Hildegards are shapeshifters,” Barrie argued. “If I were to settle around one of the others...”

“Mick is right. Too dangerous,” Mark said. He stood before they could argue, pretending to stretch and then notice the Hildegards.

Charlaine was looking his way. She smiled. He pretended to be startled to see her, then walked over to her table. “Hello. Nice to see you,” he said, smiling at them one by one, first Alan, followed by Brigitte—and then Charlaine.

“Detective. What a surprise to see you here,” she said.

“I come fairly often. Declan is a friend,” he explained.

“Well, of course,” Charlaine said softly, and he heard in her tone an acknowledgment that it was natural for one Other, especially a cop, to know another, especially someone with a public profile like Declan’s. “Let me introduce you to our friends. This is Katrina Manville—”

“Of course. The renowned costume designer,” Mark said.

“Pleasure. I’ve seen you here before,” Katrina said.

“And Taylor Haywood, Milly Caulfield, Greg Swayze and Tilda Lyons,” Charlaine said. “And, of course, you know my cousins Alan and Brigitte.”

“Detective Mark Valiente,” Alan said, introducing him in return. “He’s working on that dreadful business that occurred at our family tomb,” he added, as if to explain why he would know a civil servant.

“Nice to meet you all. Actually, I’m not on duty tonight. I’m just here with a few friends who I believe know you,” Mark said, smiling at the film crew. “They’re actresses.”

“Oh?” Swayze said, looking in the direction Mark had come from, but there were people in the way, blocking his view.

“Sailor Gryffald and Alessande Salisbrooke,” Mark said. “They auditioned for a role in your new film.”

Swayze nodded. “Alessande is here? And Ms. Gryffald, of course.”

“Right over there,” Mark said.

He was surprised when Swayze stood right away. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, and was gone.

“Both of them read very well,” Haywood told Mark.

“The girl is playing a fox-trot, a real fox-trot,” Charlaine said. “I do love a fox-trot. And how often does one get the chance these days? Detective, you’re already standing. Do you dance?” she asked, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“I do, yes,” he said, offering her a hand. “And I’d be delighted if you’d join me,” he said.

Charlaine took his hand and rose, smiling sweetly. He excused them to the others and led her out to the floor.

She slid into his arms easily, holding her head and shoulders at a perfect—very lofty—angle. She seemed to savor the music like a sensual touch, allowing her head to fall back for a moment, her eyes closed. Her fingers moved on his shoulders, and then her eyes opened and she looked at him. “Lovely, Detective. Few men can dance these days. Really dance. But then, you have been around for a while, haven’t you? Long enough to remember when dancing took true finesse, and when manners and courtesy were to be admired.”

“Yes, I have been around awhile,” he said.

“Vampires tend to be so magnetic,” she murmured.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said.

“Have you made any headway, Detective? My cousins are quite distraught, you know.”

“We’re searching for the truth of the situation, Ms. Hildegard,” he said. “And I promise you, we’ll find it.”

“You suspect my family has something to do with this, don’t you?” She smiled, pursing her lips slightly. “You’re quite wrong.”

He changed the subject. “Your cousin Alan led me to believe he’d passed on filming Greg Swayze’s screenplay.”

“Oh, he did pass.”

“But given his presence here tonight, it seems he is involved with the filming?”

She smiled. “This is Hollywood, Detective. ‘Involved’ can mean so many things. Alan loved the screenplay, and though he couldn’t afford to option it himself, he made some calls to ensure that it went to a studio that would do it justice. In doing that, it seems, he has befriended Mr. Swayze. And since this is one of our favorite places, when we decided to take Greg and his associates out, this seemed like just the place to suggest.”

“I see.” He did see. Alan was still involved in the project at the heart of his murder case.

She laughed softly. “Oh, no, Detective. You don’t see at all. So,” she added softly, “you will keep investigating and...coming round, won’t you?”

“I may need your help again, yes,” he said.

“I’ll be delighted to give it.”

As she spoke, another couple swept by them.

Alessande—and Greg Swayze.

Swayze didn’t even notice them; his eyes were only on Alessande. Mark couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

He tried to dance closer to them without Charlaine realizing his purpose, using his heightened hearing to eavesdrop.

Swayze certainly wasn’t telling Alessande any deep, dark secrets. He was waxing eloquent about the intelligence, the courage and the passion of the heroine of Death in the Bowery.

“Are you a movie buff, Detective?” Charlaine asked him.

“Not particularly.”

“But...those actresses are your friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“Keepers!” Charlaine said with a hiss.

He grinned at that. “You don’t like Keepers?”

“We don’t need Keepers,” she said. “We need rights, the right to be free to be what we are.”

“But Keeper law allows for that. It’s the very point of their existence.”

“Ah, spoken like a true vampire,” she said. “Shifters are...different.” She shrugged. “Your friend—the Elven cop. They’re the least powerful, aren’t they? The Elven. The most like human beings.”

“I like to think that we all, Others and humans, share something that binds us.”

“Oh?”

“The soul, the belief in right and wrong that allows us to make moral choices rather than being driven by selfishness and greed.”

She laughed. “But, Detective, this is Hollywood. Everyone out here is soulless, don’t you know?”

The music ended. Applause filled the room.

“Thank you for the dance,” Charlaine said.

“No, thank you,” Mark replied.

He noted Greg Swayze was still with Alessande. They were standing and chatting by the table. Alessande seemed to be introducing him to the rest of the group.

“Intrigued by the screenwriter?” Charlaine asked archly. “Or intrigued by his interest in your friend?”

Mark looked down at her. “I think he’s exceptionally talented.”

She laughed softly. “Come, take me over to meet the rest of your friends.”

“You must know Barrie Gryffald—she’s the Keeper of the Laurel Canyon shapeshifters.”

“I know of Barrie Gryffald,” she said.

“She’s also a reporter, and she’s looking to give the movie a boost,” Mark said. “No doubt she can send some publicity your cousin’s way, as well.”

“Please, Detective! Investigate us all you like, but don’t mistake me for a fool. Her interest is purely in the Hildegard connection to Death in the Bowery.”

“Ah, but if it’s okay that we investigate you all we like, why not help Barrie and let your cousin and the family business benefit, as well?” he asked.

She tipped her head to the side as she mulled over the question. “You’re right, the publicity will be quite beneficial.” She offered him a seductive smile and moved closer to him. “So let your friend play cat and mouse with Greg and the crew. I don’t mind at all if you ‘investigate’ me. Some of my favorite friends and...investigators through the years have been vampires.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said.

“Now introduce me around,” she said, her mischievous smile intact.

He led her to the table, where the men rose as he made the introductions. Barrie acknowledged Charlaine with a smile and said she was pleased to meet her at last, and Charlaine admitted that she seldom attended council meetings, preferring to live quietly, out of the mainstream of the Otherworld.

Throughout the conversation, Swayze remained silent, a besotted smile on his face as he watched Alessande. Eventually Charlaine took his arm and led him back to their table.

“Anything?” Mark asked as he sat back down.

“I’d say Swayze has a crush the size of Texas on our Alessande,” Brodie said.

Mark leaned forward and said, “They’re having coffee tomorrow. He wants to talk to her about the lead role in the upcoming movie.”

“Go figure,” Sailor said, but she was smiling as she shrugged.

“Sailor, I have no interest in that role or any other,” Alessande said.

“Don’t be silly—better one of us gets the part,” Sailor said.

Alessande smiled. “But this opportunity could be really important for you. I just want to find Regina and stop what’s happening before anyone else dies.”

“We’re going to find Regina,” Sailor assured her. “And we will stop this, but I confess I wouldn’t mind landing a role, too,” Sailor said, grinning. “That would mean a real paycheck—one that could mean I won’t have to wait on so many tables.”

They all smiled at that. Alessande turned to Mark. “Speaking of crushes...”

“She’s right,” Mick said, looking at Mark with a teasing light in his eyes. “Our shape-shifting beauty Ms. Charlaine Hildegard seems to be eating you alive with her eyes.”

“We don’t have a date for coffee,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s coffee she wants,” Barrie commented dryly.

“Keep an eye on the Hildegard crew,” Mark told the table. “Alessande, want to take a walk?”

“Sure,” she said, but there was a question in her eyes.

“We’re going back to see Digger,” he told her.

“Ah,” she said.

“You’ll follow him tonight?” Brodie asked.

Mark nodded.

“Just give me a buzz if you need me,” Brodie said.

“I think Barrie and I should hit the research trail,” Mick said. “We can take Sailor home with us. Declan owns the place, so he has to stay, and it makes sense for you to stay, too, Brodie, since you’re engaged to Rhiannon.”

“It’s a good plan,” Brodie said. “I think I’ll circulate downstairs and see if I can pick up any good gossip. You never know what might turn out to be relevant.”

“Works for me,” Mark said.

“Not for me,” Sailor protested. “I’m staying here. I can hang out up here and see if the Hildegards and their film friends get up to anything suspicious.”

“That makes sense,” Alessande said. “Especially because it would be natural for Sailor to slide into conversations with any of the film crew, since she’s a working actress.”

“An almost-working actress,” Sailor said.

“A wonderful actress,” Brodie assured her.

At that, Mick, Barrie, Alessande and Mark made a show of saying goodbye, leaving Brodie and Sailor still at the table and pausing on the way out to make a show of thanking Declan. Outside, they split up, Barrie and Mick retrieving Mick’s car from the valet, while Mark and Alessande headed down the street.

As they walked, retracing their steps from the previous night, Mark said, “So, did you work any Elven magic on our boy Swayze?” He sounded jealous, he realized.

She looked up at him, smiling. “No, actually, I didn’t. Believe it or not, he’s genuinely attracted to me.”

“Oh, I believe it.”

“What about you? Use any vampire glamour on the lovely Charlaine?”

He shook his head. “Of course, I’m not having coffee with Charlaine Hildegard.”

“Coffee seems quite tame, really, doesn’t it? It was pretty evident what she wants from you.”

He grinned. “Jealous?” he teased her.

“Not at all,” she said. “What’s important here is solving this case and finding Regina.”

“Of course.”

“Are you jealous?” she asked.

“You bet,” he told her.

She smiled at that. “Okay, so I’m a little bit jealous. More than that, actually. I’d like to smack her in her smug, overly made-up face.”

He laughed and pulled her close. “You know...she doesn’t compare to you,” he said softly.

He wasn’t sure what she would have answered, because she suddenly tensed and said, “There’s Digger!”

He was leaning against a building, smoking. They approached him, and he instantly straightened, looking worried. “Hey, I have a prescription,” he said. “It’s for medicinal use!”

“Sure, whatever,” Mark said. “We were looking to, um, see what you have tonight.”

Digger squinted and looked at the two of them. “Oh, yeah.” He frowned. “Cool to see you again.”

“You sound surprised to see us,” Alessande told him.

“No, uh, no. But—” He stopped and looked around, as if afraid someone might overhear him, but after a moment he seemed satisfied that no one else was around. “That was some pretty powerful stuff I gave you. I don’t usually get repeat customers so quickly.”

“We want another dose,” Mark said.

“I, um, don’t have any more right now,” Digger said. “I mean, I can get them. I can get them for you by tomorrow night.”

“If that’s really the best you can do...” Alessande said regretfully.

“It’s the best, I swear it.”

“Whatever,” Mark said, then sighed and slipped an arm around Alessande. “Come on, honey, we’re going to have to wait.”

“But it will be worth it!” Digger called after them as they walked away.

“What do we do now?” Alessande asked Mark as soon as they were out of sight.

“You been practicing your shape-shifting?”

“I feel pretty confident,” she said.

“Want to do a bat?” he asked. “I would suggest a wolf, but that’s far too obvious for the streets of L.A.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I can do a bat. What then?”

“Police work. We perch somewhere—and we wait. And we see where he leads us.”

They rounded a corner into an alley. Mark went first, willing the change in his mind. He turned to smoke and then flapped his way up to a terrace in perfect bat form.

Alessande followed. She was good, he had to admit; she looked like the real deal.

He waited for her to feel comfortable with the change. They he flew down toward the street, looking for Digger.

They were not disappointed.

Digger was leaning against the building again, another joint in his hands. Mark rested on a rooftop, Alessande followed, and they settled down to wait together.

Waiting. It was one of the most tedious parts of his job.

He found himself thinking about the night he and Brodie had waited to burst into the Hildegard tomb. He was still troubled by the daydream or vision or whatever it was that he’d had that night. Alessande had been featured in it, though he’d yet to meet her at that time.

And now...

Now he knew her, and the vision was even more disturbing.

He told himself that he didn’t need to be so worried. Not at this time anyway. There was no blood wedding on the horizon. They were bats, perched on a building, watching. And waiting.

At last they saw someone approaching Digger. Mark strained to see—not easy when he was in bat form.

It was a man, a tall man. He was wearing a trench coat despite the fact that the night was warm and there wasn’t even a hint of rain in the air.

The man stopped in front of Digger, who managed to shrug his way out of his smoke-induced haze, straighten and begin talking to the man with a great deal of enthusiasm.

The man was angry. He smacked Digger against the wall and, as Mark watched, pulled a knife from an inner pocket of his trench coat and raised it.

Mark flew down in a fury, moving as quickly as he could. He realized Alessande was at his side, moving swiftly in perfect unison.

Mark crashed purposefully into the attacker’s arm. The knife missed Digger, striking the stucco facade of the building instead.

Digger twisted away and screamed, then turned and ran.

As the tall man raised his knife again, Mark took human form and grasped the man’s arm, wrestling him to the ground. The knife went flying. Alessande, also in human form, went for the weapon.

The man was no match for Mark’s strength, but as they struggled he managed to pop a pill into his mouth. As he swallowed, Mark was able at last to get a good look at his face.

It was Jimmy—the Hildegard butler.

“Jimmy!” he gasped.

Jimmy only stared back at him, not saying a word, as his lips started to draw back and he began to gag.

Mark realized that he hadn’t swallowed something hallucinogenic.

He’d taken poison.

“No!” Mark roared, trying to wedge his fingers into Jimmy’s mouth to keep him from choking.

Too late. Foam spewed from between Jimmy’s lips.

Jimmy died before him, choking and writhing in pain.

Then...nothing.

Mark pulled out his phone to call Brodie, and, as he punched in the number, he looked around and saw that Digger was gone.

And so was Alessande.