Forsaken by the Others (6 page)

Then again, that glitter could have been drugs. Not that it mattered. Everyone here
was dangerous in his or her own way.

Sara and I were led deep into the house. We eventually reached a door where the guard
had to punch some numbers into a security pad before he could open it. He motioned
us into the stairwell, not following us down the rabbit hole.

Though the stairwell was well lit, and the walls here were a much more appropriate
off-white, hung with the occasional framed photograph, being starstruck was replaced
by that sense of dread and intimidation all over again.

For her part, Sara didn’t seem concerned. She moved on the stairs like she was heading
down to meet a business acquaintance. Taking a cue from her, I schooled my features
into what I hoped was a pleasantly blank expression instead of one that said “dear-God-get-me-out-of-here.
”

At the bottom of the stairwell was a hallway that branched off into other rooms to
our left, and a wide-open space directly ahead with floor-to-ceiling windows that
overlooked the beach from the heights of a cliff. Or maybe we were on a mountainside.
We’d gone through so many twisting, winding roads, I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Ah, ladies, you made it,” said a pleasantly deep male voice from our right.

I had seen pictures of Clyde Seabreeze before, and even a couple of video interviews
online. However, they lacked the impact of the real thing, who was currently—and very
deliberately, I was sure—standing under a small spotlight a few feet away from a small
group of men. One was lounging on some more artsy than comfortable looking couches,
and the rest were hanging back in the shadows; probably bodyguards.

Of course, the first thing I noticed was the hair. It was dark—black—obviously dyed.
It wasn’t a good color for him, but that was like saying it wasn’t a good color for
Brad Pitt in his prime.

His gaze drew me in next. Clyde’s eyes were . . . well, cliché as it sounds, a smoldering,
dark blue. Come-hither eyes. Eyes deep enough to drown in. I remembered at the last
second to look away, and, much like whenever David Bowie came on screen in
Labyrinth,
soon found myself staring at what was obviously framed by his too-tight pants and
the tails of the shirt he hadn’t bothered to button.

“Mr. Seabreeze,” Sara said, and with far more grace than I could possibly have mustered,
“it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Oh no, the pleasure is all mine.”

The two of them were very cool and polite with each other considering he looked like
he’d walked off the set of some romance novel photo shoot. I debated opening my mouth,
but the words
package
and
balls
were dangerously close to the tip of my tongue. Instead, I mutely offered my hand
when he approached to give us both a polite, welcoming handshake. I imagine my vow
of silence was probably for the best—for all of us.

“Ms. Waynest,” he said, smiling in a way that told me he knew
exactly
what I had been staring at a moment ago, “I am thrilled to finally meet the girl
who stole the heart of Alec Royce. I must admit, I never thought he’d request that
I be the one to offer sanctuary to one of his own, but I am delighted that I could
be of service.”

I’m sure my blank look spoke for me. His smile became a little more genuine, and he
spread his arms, bowing his head in a theatric move reminiscent of an orchestra director.

“You must forgive me, I have forgotten my manners. Ladies, may I introduce you to
Fabian d’Argento, master of San Francisco.”

A man who was sprawled as if he had been placed
just so
on the couch inclined his head to us. “Delighted,” he said, clearly not.

Like Clyde, Fabian was lovely to look at but undoubtedly far more deadly than you
would think based upon appearances. I had once mistaken Royce for a lackey; had I
not just been introduced to the two, I might have easily assumed the same of Clyde
and Fabian. Though they were both pale, and perhaps unfairly good-looking, they did
not give off any dangerous vibes. Their ability to pass as human and my instant attraction
to them was what made them dangerous, particularly since, as both were masters of
their respective cities, they must have been ancient. The old ones always seemed to
be devious and strong enough to lay the smack down on anyone who got in their way.

“Fabian, this is Shiarra Waynest and Sara Halloway. Alec has sent them here to visit
for a time.”

The other vampire finally looked mildly interested, one brow quirking. “Is that so?
You pair are private investigators, yes? I understand Ms. Waynest has caused quite
a stir back East.”

I cleared my throat and looked away. “Yes, we are, and that’s why I’m here. Why we
both are.”

“Fascinating. ”

After an awkward pause in which the vampires carefully studied the two of us, and
with more interest than I liked, Sara stepped forward. “It’s very kind of you to extend
us your hospitality, but we’re both very tired and hungry after that flight. Is there
anything we can do for you, or would it be possible for us to get settled in?”

She had always been more direct than I was. Though I was dismayed to see that Clyde
was watching us with the intense interest of one who is formulating devious plans
and won’t be afraid to use them.

“Just a moment, before you go. I was just discussing with Fabian a little . . . problem
I have been dealing with. You say you are PIs?”

Sara and I nodded, though I could tell she was just as wary as I was. This did not
bode well for us.

“Excellent. Then I must insist upon your assistance with this matter. Perhaps you
can help us determine who—or what—has been directing the zombies infesting the area.”

Sara’s mouth dropped open, as did mine. She recovered her voice more quickly than
I did, probably thanks to her internship and few months spent as a practicing attorney
in her parents’ company after she graduated law school.

“Zombies? Please tell me you’re joking.”

Clyde’s lips twisted into a smirk. “I’m afraid not. I don’t believe you would be in
any danger. The creatures have only been attacking the vampires of my bloodline—they
have not harmed anyone from other lines or with a pulse. If you wish to remain here,
you can pay your way with your investigative skills. Find me their maker, and I will
consider that adequate payment for your stay.”

Sara straightened, folding her arms and assuming the haughty ice-queen look she had
perfected in her college debate classes. I was still struggling with the whole zombie
thing, let alone the rest.

“As we understand it, Mr. Royce has already negotiated the terms of our stay. We’ll
be happy to take on the job—for our usual fee.”

I had to hand it to her. She was much better under pressure than I was. Then I realized
what she was saying and grabbed her arm. “Hold on a second. Sara, can I talk to you
for a minute?”

The vampires both appeared intrigued by Sara’s reply. Fabian leaned forward on the
couch, a gleam in his eye, and Clyde held out a staying hand. “Oh, no, Ms. Waynest.
No need for that. I accept your terms. Considering your circumstances, I assume you
would prefer payment by cash rather than a check. In the morning I’ll have one of
my people fetch a deposit and a file with the information we have collected thus far.”

That wasn’t exactly what I had been going to talk to Sara about. Rather, I was worried
about what the hell we were getting into, chasing zombies around a strange town on
behalf of a vampire we barely knew. Royce’s parting reminder not to trust Clyde wasn’t
going to do us any good if we tied ourselves to him in a business relationship. Having
him as both our host and client was guaranteed to get awkward somewhere along the
line—but it looked like it was too late to do anything about that.

“Thank you again, ladies. I’ll have someone escort you to the guest house. Tomorrow
evening, one of my drivers will be made available whenever you are ready to search
for the source of this infestation.” One of the security guards who had been hanging
back in the shadows stepped forward, though he stopped in his tracks when Clyde held
up a single finger. “I must warn you—there are certain parts of the San Fernando Valley
which are off-limits to my people. You would do best to remain as close to the city
and coastal region as possible.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” I said. Though it made me uncomfortable to say the next
part aloud, I didn’t want to give the vampire the idea that he could keep us completely
under his thumb while we were here. “However, I can’t promise that we won’t spend
some time in other parts of the Valley. We may have to follow leads or interview people
who aren’t part of your network.”

Sara nodded. “As long as you let us do our job without interference, we’ll do our
best to keep things discreet on your behalf.”

“Touché,” he murmured. “Well, then. I’ll see that you are adequately compensated for
your efforts.”

With that, he turned his back on us and joined Fabian on the couch. Clearly we were
dismissed. Judging by the hand Fabian was quick to place on Clyde’s inner thigh as
he leaned in to whisper something, this was a good thing.

The security guard walked us out. The last glimpse I got of the two involved glowing
eyes, extended fangs, and hands in interesting places.

The guard who walked us out led us through a maze of hallways and rooms filled with
people who had wandered to the fringes of the party. What felt like an age later,
we were taken out a side door, stepping onto a brick-inlaid patio surrounded by palm
fronds and vibrantly colored flowers. The change in temperature was intense, like
stepping out of a food locker and into a sauna, making my skin feel tight and uncomfortably
dry.

I wasn’t sure how Sara could stand the heat in that long-sleeved shirt of hers, but
she gave no visible sign of discomfort. If anything, she was lost in thought—probably
considering the mess she’d just thrown us both into by agreeing to help Clyde.

We walked around the Olympic-sized swimming pool, stepping around a group of people
huddled together, passing a joint back and forth. Most of them looked familiar to
me, but we didn’t linger, and it was too dark for me to be certain which stars I was
spotting. On the other side of the pool, we went through a gate, down a set of steps
cut into the steep slant of a hillside, and into another fairyland of twinkling lights,
manicured garden paths, and burbling fountains.

Nestled against the side of the hill was an elegant miniature of the mansion. It put
me in mind of those doghouses that were perfect replicas of their owners’ homes I
once saw on some TV show about how the rich and famous spent their money.

Despite how minuscule this place was in comparison, it rivaled the size of my parents’
home back in New York. Though my two brothers and I had all moved out years ago, my
parents had no plans of becoming snowbirds and migrating to Florida once my dad retired.
They loved that house, and someday it would be passed down to Mike, Damien, and me.

That thought gave me a jolt. The last time I had spoken to my father, he had made
it perfectly clear he no longer considered me part of the family. That made my stomach
churn with anxiety I had managed to bury away while dealing with all the other problems
on my plate.

Great. Now that I no longer had worries about turning furry when the moon was full,
I could move on to wringing my hands over my family problems.

It would have to wait until I was alone. The security guard who led us up to the front
door took a few moments to explain that we were the only ones staying in the guesthouse
for the time being but that staff would come in and out regularly to clean, cook for
us, handle our wardrobe—which I took as veiled condemnation of our current attire—and
that other guests from the party might end up staying here as well.

He then gave us the code to the keypad that unlocked the front door and let us in.
Our bags were already waiting just inside the entrance, next to a table with spindly
legs and gold onions at the feet. There were sprigs of freshly cut jasmine and honeysuckle
spilling from an ornate marble vase, and the scent permeated the place like a sickly
sweet perfume.

I turned to ask the guard which rooms we could stay in, but he was already striding
back to the mansion. Shaking my head, I shut the door and glanced around, noting that
this place was decorated like some grand hotel lobby—lots of marble and gold shine
designed to either intimidate and awe those who hadn’t grown up around money, or set
those who had at ease.

Sara, being the latter, was not as impressed with our surroundings.

She gestured at the bags, and I soon had a frown that matched hers. They were both
open.

No wonder the chauffeur had urged us to leave our bags. Perhaps Royce had underplayed
just how strained his relationship with Clyde truly was. The master vampire of Los
Angeles might have thought well enough of our skills to offer me and Sara a job, but
he obviously didn’t think we were totally above board.

Funny, considering I thought the same of him.

We knelt by our stuff, checking for anything missing. The phone was gone. My Rolodex
wasn’t missing anything, but I had no doubt somebody had gone through it. Nothing
much important was in my bag—clothes, mostly—but the thought that someone had been
poking around my underwear and had taken the phone was enough to send my blood pressure
spiking through the roof.

If Clyde wanted to play hardball, fine. We’d play hardball.

“You have the detectors?”

“Yeah, one sec.” She dug around in her purse, pulling out two small, black boxes.
They bore a resemblance to a walkie-talkie, but they both had a red-tinted lens near
the top. She tossed one to me. “You get the wireless, I use the lens finder?”

“Sure.”

She did a slow turn, studying the decorations and artwork hanging on the walls, peering
through the lens.

She found what we were looking for first. “Camera’s over here,” she said, pointing
to a vase sitting on the mantel in the room beyond the entrance. No doubt the camera
had a decent view of anyone who might enter or leave. Sara had something similar in
her house, and I’d helped install one just like it in her sister’s apartment a couple
of years ago.

We both moved closer to check if it was a make we were familiar with. Judging by the
way the pinpoint gleam of the lens matched the dull shine of the rest of the series
of small, dark stones circling the base of the vase, whoever had made the piece knew
what he or she was doing. Not well enough to hide it from someone who made a point
of supplementing her income by selling similar gadgets on a regular basis and knew
enough to carry a bug detector at all times, but it was a clever touch if you were
a paranoid master vampire who wanted to keep tabs on unexpected—and unsuspecting—guests.

“Do you think the bedrooms are bugged?”

Sara shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past him. I doubt he expects us to do anything stupid
while we’re here, but we might as well play it safe. Check around before you shower
or change your clothes.”

We wandered around, exploring our new temporary home, getting a feel for the place.
Most of the lights were already on, and we discovered the place had a full kitchen,
fully stocked wet bar in the living room, a small sauna and exercise room, half a
dozen bedrooms, and a sizeable dining room with an impressive set of china on display.
Like the entrance, the rest of the place was full of delicate, gold-trimmed, expensive
things—and a number of additional cameras that were hidden nearly as well as the one
aimed at the front door. Even the matching furniture appeared to be more for display
than comfort. The one personal touch was provided by enormous vases of gardenias,
their scent overpowering every room.

Sara chose one of the bedrooms that looked out over the garden and walkway leading
up to the main house. I took the one across the hall from her, preferring the view
of untamed hillside and a sliver of the ocean beyond. The hills might have been dry
and dead, but it felt more natural than the man-made wonderland out front and suited
my dark mood.

Sweeping the room for bugs turned out to be a damned good idea. I found no less than
three in the bedroom and another one in the tissue box on the vanity in the bathroom.
Finding them was a pain in the ass, but disabling them took no time at all, as they
were wireless; all I had to do was toss a cloth over the lens or turn them toward
the wall. The alarm clock beside the bed had an SD card. Popping it out and flushing
it down the john wasn’t totally necessary, but it still made me feel better.

After we dragged our bags into our respective rooms, Sara sat down next to me where
I had exhaustedly slumped onto a bed. I wasn’t sure if it was the travel catching
up with me or how draining it was to realize just how deep a hole I was currently
in. Across the country from all I had ever known and loved, under surveillance by
our host, and stuck doing a job that would no doubt get us in even deeper trouble
than we were already in. The only bright side was that I was sharing this impromptu
adventure with the only person I had ever been able to count on. Sadly, she was probably
ready to throttle me. When I glanced over at her, she was looking down at her folded
hands, not at me.

“Sara,” I said, then hesitated. What to say to her?

She darted a look at me, then back down to her hands. One slid up to twine a few blond
strands around her fingers. “The business is probably in default by now. I haven’t
been able to reach Jenny, but our rent should still be paid. I asked Janine to take
care of it while I’m gone.”

Damn it. Sara must have contacted Janine directly after she had hung up with Arnold.
I’d forgotten to make that call. Running a hand down my face, I mumbled against my
palm. “Cripes. I really am sorry. For everything. This is all my fault. It’s like
I fuck up everything I touch.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true. It’s my fault Others became interested in the business, and in
you, and my fault H&W is as good as gone. My fault we’re across the country as guests
to some strange vampire. My fault my dad disowned me.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice sharp enough to draw my wide-eyed gaze over to hers. “Don’t
start that. He loves you, and I’m sure he didn’t mean whatever he said. We’ll get
through this. We always do. If things get too weird here, you know Janine has some
property she bought out here. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed the beach house.”

Beach house. I’d forgotten about Janine’s home-away-from-home in Malibu. Sara and
I had spent a week “borrowing” the house for a vacation getaway a few years ago. We
spent most of the time sipping margaritas on the deck and watching dolphins pass in
the waves as the sun tinted the surf unreal shades of red and orange. That didn’t
sound like such a bad time to revisit.

“What happened with Rob, anyway? What did he say to you?”

I cringed and looked away, not wanting to face the concern etched in the fine lines
around her cornflower blue eyes. Though I was no longer as torn up over it as I had
been at first, it still hurt to think about. “Dad was pissed because he saw the article
that said I might have been infected. That’s how he found out I was contracted to
Royce. I had never told Mom or Dad. He didn’t know. Didn’t even suspect. Said I wasn’t
a Waynest anymore, and that I should never come home again. I should have said something—”

“Oh, stop. There’s nothing you could have said that would have made it okay. Just
give him a little time. I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

I gave her a look.

“Okay, maybe not over it, per se, but he’ll learn to live with it.”

That prompted a humorless smirk out of me. “Yeah, I suppose. He can’t stay mad forever,
right?”

She scooted over to put an arm around me in a hug. Though the memory of my father’s
voice, thick with the cigarettes and whiskey he never touched save for when he was
stressed, replayed over and over in the back of my head, I didn’t feel like reaching
for my guns and hunting Chaz to the ends of the earth anymore. All I felt now was
that I was getting far too old for this shit.

Sara’s fingers tightened briefly on my shoulder. “We’ll handle this somehow. We’ll
find a way to make it right. H&W isn’t gone, it’s just on hiatus. Until then,
stop it.
Don’t worry about what you can’t change. By the time we get back, he should have
cooled off.”

I wished I could believe that.

“Shiarra.”
The force behind her voice made me cringe. “If you start listening to nothing but
death metal and wearing all black, we can’t be friends anymore. ”

That drew a choking laugh out of me. It took me a few moments to regain my composure
enough to answer her, and killed most of the melancholy mood in its tracks. “I’m sor—”

“Enough! You’ve already apologized plenty of times. Let’s move on. As long as we’re
here, we’ve got a job to do. I’m not going to go zombie hunting with you if you’re
just going to mope around the whole time listening to angry girl music and dripping
with mascara. Are you with me or what?”

My laughter this time was far less strained. Sara soon joined in, the two of us giggling
like madwomen until my ribs and diaphragm ached too much to keep it up. She rubbed
under her eyes with her palms, still snorting like she did when she really lost it.

Her eyes were a little red when she glanced at me, her lopsided grin telling me she
had needed that emotional release almost as badly as I had. She was usually better
at hiding her inner turmoil than I was, but she had to be hurting if her usually cool
and collected facade was cracking. She no longer had a mom or dad to turn to for comfort.
All she had was her sister.

Well, there was also Arnold, but both of them were three thousand miles away. She’d
have to make do with me.

I slid my arm over her shoulder and held her, the occasional hitch in my breathing
betraying my suppressed laughter. Though I knew I should have been more solemn in
that moment, Sara had done me the favor of pulling me out of my funk. It would be
only fair for me to reciprocate.

“You know,” I said, as conversationally and with as straight a face as I could muster,
“I’ll bet, when you get back, the sex with Arnold is going to be fantastic. ”

Sara nearly choked, covering her mouth with a hand as she looked at me. This time
the tears really were from mirth; I could see the curve of her lips between her fingers,
and she was trying her best to smother her laughter. I gave her an innocent look,
widening my eyes and batting my lashes. That earned me a halfhearted punch in the
shoulder, which got me laughing, too.

Giggling between words, she gave me a mock glare. “Damn it, now all I’m going to be
able to think about until we go back is hopping in the sack with him. Man, you have
no idea how great it is with a mage.”

“Once you go magic, you never go back?”