Nocturnal Part 22

John gave the Highlander a disapproving look, tapping his foot in the doorway until I tucked everything under my arm and made to follow him. Arnold took his place by my side one more time.

We had a lot of work ahead of us.

Chapter 9.

John escorted us to the parking lot but didn't wait to see me to the car this time. I leaned against a street lamp on the sidewalk and thumbed through the pages of the file while we waited for one of the attendants to bring the car around. It was early for people to be leaving, so a couple of valets were chatting amiably nearby instead of paying much mind to the lot. Arnold had his hands in his pockets, watching the pa.s.sersby on their way in and out of the club.

"That guy has a problem," Arnold commented. The anger in his voice drew my attention off the papers in my hands. "The vampire, I mean."

"John?"

"Yeah. I met him once, when I did a consultation for Royce on additional security measures for his art collection. John's a cheapskate and a sleaze. Cost me a good commission. Hurt a girl who used to work with us at The Circle. Be careful around him, okay?"

"Sure," I replied absently, frowning as I flipped to a photograph. It was the man with the strange eyes and scarred palm who'd visited me in my office, but the photo wasn't attached to any of the reports and didn't have a name on it. Who was was that guy? that guy?

Just as I closed the file and tucked it under my arm, someone pushed me from behind. I stumbled against the valet's podium and set the keys on their hooks to jingling like dozens of tiny bells. A small cl.u.s.ter of men in ski masks herded Arnold, the attendants, and the few other startled pedestrians away, cutting me off from the others. A sharp pain at my neck made me lash out, braining the guy behind me on the temple. He cursed and made a grab for the file, but I pulled it up against my chest, refusing to let go.

"Sara, don't move!" Arnold shouted, his hand flinging out as strange words slipped over his tongue. The runes on my arm burned burned as a flash of bright bluish-white light raced from his fingertips. I stood stock still, more out of shock than because of Arnold's order, as the guy grabbing me staggered back and screamed. as a flash of bright bluish-white light raced from his fingertips. I stood stock still, more out of shock than because of Arnold's order, as the guy grabbing me staggered back and screamed.

The people around us also screamed cries of "Magic!" "Look out!" and "Don't let it touch you!" as they scattered and fled.

Shock waves of force pressed against my skin, pus.h.i.+ng me up against the podium a second time. The runes tingled so painfully I couldn't move or feel my fingers. A rush of air blew my hair into my face, obscuring my vision. Once I collected my balance, I brushed the strands out of my eyes and stared.

Several of our a.s.sailants were sprawled on the ground, groaning or clutching at their ribs. The fading sparkle of magic clung to their limbs, tracing their extremities in glittering arcs. The rest of them were running away, pus.h.i.+ng people aside as they booked it down the street. Two of the attendants were on the ground, one not moving, the other on his b.u.t.t and staring wide-eyed at Arnold.

"Holy s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t," the young guy in a rumpled uniform managed. "What the f.u.c.k was that? that?"

"Sara!" Ignoring the kid, Arnold rushed to my side and reached for me. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

At first, I shrank back. His expression wavered, sorrow and anger coloring the concern. He waited, one hand outstretched, but not touching me.

Ashamed for hesitating, I reached for him, pulled him close. "I'm sorry. Yes, I'm okay."

His other hand came up, fingers brus.h.i.+ng against my neck. Though I hadn't felt the injury at first, once he touched it, it hurt. The itch up and down my arm grew painful again, then faded. His fingertips came away red.

"That should do for now. Doesn't look like it needs st.i.tches."

I settled into the comfort of his arms, though I stiffened when I turned my attention to where the muggers had fallen. They were gone-disappeared while Arnold inspected the cut on my throat.

The valet who'd been so afraid of Arnold was on his knees, gently shaking the shoulder of the guy facedown on the pavement, hesitating to turn him over. I hadn't seen it at first, but there was a spreading pool of blood soaking into the knees of the other attendant's slacks.

Angus was by our side moments later, barking orders, instructing the flock of men in security T-s.h.i.+rts to fan out and make sure no one else was attacked. He checked that we were okay before rus.h.i.+ng away to question some of the other witnesses, herding us together so we could all give our reports when the cops arrived.

The guy who'd spoken to us earlier was growing frantic; one of the vampires urged him away from his friend while another knelt down to examine the body. I hid my face between Arnold's neck and shoulder, but not before catching a glimpse of the poor kid's slit throat as the vamp turned him onto his back.

When I got around to peeking out, the vampires didn't seem fazed by the sight or smell of the blood. They were industriously directing people around the scene and keeping an eye on anyone who had witnessed the debacle. Angus was still giving orders, listening to various reports, and cursing a blue streak as he took stock. The sound of sirens growing in the distance brought with it a sense of dread; I sorely hoped neither Mark nor any of his friends would be among the cops to investigate the scene.

"Bold as bra.s.s, they are," Angus muttered as he came to a stop beside us. His gaze was suddenly sharp upon me, thick caterpillar brows lowering in a scowl. "Is Sara bleeding?"

Arnold held me close while Angus eyed my neck, though I wasn't as afraid of him as I should have been. Too busy having the s.h.i.+vers as I stared at the body on the ground. Someone had put a coat over the dead boy, but it didn't stop me from envisioning what could've happened if I had been just a little slower ducking away from the man who attacked me. I'd be on the ground in a pool of my own blood, just like that kid.

"I'm okay. It's just a little scratch."

"Make sure the paramedics see ye before they leave. Get it looked at." Angus switched his attention from me to Arnold once I nodded agreement. "That light show shorted out our security cameras during the fight. Did ye catch any of their faces? I didn't have time to check before I came out here."

"No. They were wearing masks," Arnold said.

"They tried to take the folder. Probably AOA members," I said, glancing down at the papers in my hand. What was in them that was worth murdering an innocent kid? Almost killing me?

Angus swore. "Just our luck, then. Give the folder to the police if they ask for it, but not the list with the address or the key. I'll provide you with a new copy when they're gone."

It didn't take very long for the first round of police to arrive. Though I'd dreaded the possibility of seeing Mark or one of his friends, we were outside his precinct. Officers I didn't know taped off the section of the lot and sidewalk where we'd fought, and took the statements of all witnesses.

No one recognized me, though I got a few disapproving looks when they heard I was a PI. The questions turned brief and perfunctory after that. Nothing new there. I was grateful that H&W Investigations didn't ring anyone's bells. Surprising, considering how much media time s.h.i.+arra had bought with her stunt at the Emba.s.sy followed by the Borowsky incident. They might pull something up when they got back to the station, but none of the cops connected my name with the Other-waged battle from just a few months ago that had involved a number of innocent-human-bystanders. Myself included.

As expected, the officers wanted to take the file. I didn't argue, gave them everything they asked for. I dumped all of the papers-save for the one with the address and phone numbers tucked in my pocket-into the evidence bag one of them held open for me. Another took my business card and advised me to expect to be called in as a witness to the homicide at a later date. It was "too early in the investigation" to have any idea who the AOA members were or why they had attacked us in such an open, public location.

Some reporters had set up camp at the fringes of the police-made barricaded area but Arnold and I managed to get by without attracting their attention once the police were done taking our statements. Arnold's statement took a bit longer as they had more questions for him when they found out he was a mage, but they didn't have enough to go on to request his presence at the station.

I was too shaky to drive, so Arnold took the wheel. We didn't speak much on the way back to my house. He glanced at me in concern now and again but mostly concentrated on the road.

I spent most of the ride thinking about the heavy file on my lap Angus had slipped me before we left. A duplicate of the one the AOA had just committed murder for.

I hoped it held some answers.

Chapter 10.

Oddly enough, the dogs didn't bark at Arnold when we arrived, instead sniffing him and wagging their tails. They accepted his patting, licking his hands and following docilely at his heels. Feeling ashamed for neglecting them earlier, I let them inside to lie at our feet while we perused the file's contents over mugs of coffee and hastily made sandwiches.

There was a pitifully short list of names of known Anti-Other Alliance members. A couple came from Web articles and police reports, but others were on photocopies of handwritten notes. Two were written on the backs of photographs. Other pictures didn't have any names at all, only dates and locations matched to newspaper articles to show their connection.

One of the photos with a name on the back was the guy who'd held the cigarette to my eye. All it said was "Ace." Not a name I would've given to the creepy weirdo, but I suppose there's no accounting for taste.

Aside from a few tidbits about the backgrounds of the known members, there wasn't much useful information. Some guy named Russell Morgan ran the show. The same "Mr. Morgan" that Ace had mentioned in my office, perhaps? He was an exWhite Hat, and he'd broken off from the New York chapter after a falling-out a couple years ago. Since then, he'd formed an elite corps of the most murderous and psychotic former White Hats he could find. They renamed themselves the Anti-Other Alliance and opened up a base of operations a few states away, staying away from White Hat territories like New York and Miami. Though their ultimate goals were unknown, the AOA didn't flinch at mowing down a few innocent bystanders on their way to the monsters they targeted.

The AOA had stuck to individual vampire nests and werewolf packs to begin with, but lately had been selecting businesses and higher profile victims to destroy. There were a few maps in the file that showed they were working their way from Atlanta back up the East Coast, toward New York.

The pattern shown by the comparison of the maps against the news clippings was disturbing. They seemed to fan out once they reached a large city; only small instances of individual a.s.saults would occur on the fringes of city limits. Then, seemingly unrelated events spiraled deeper into the city, leading up to one or two bigger attacks, gradually growing in scope until the target was eliminated by whatever means necessary. They'd already taken down two werewolf pack leaders and a good chunk of the D.C. vampire coven, leaving a swath of destruction in their wake.

Judging by the information in the file, they were breaking some sort of unspoken rule to stay away from White Hat territory. Something was drawing them back to Morgan's hometown. Their interest in Royce's businesses wasn't singular; they'd also been spotted at some werewolf-run dive in Brooklyn, and evidence pointed to an AOA member defacing the office of a privately practicing mage in Jersey City.

What the h.e.l.l were they after?

"This is getting us nowhere. I'm going to call Jack," Arnold announced, setting down his coffee. Roxie stuck her head in his lap to be scratched when he sat down and he absently obliged her.

I regarded him dubiously, wondering what the leader of the White Hats might have to say about Russell Morgan. White Hats and AOA members didn't mix, from what I understood. Plus, Jack was clearly unstable. s.h.i.+arra had told me about his efforts to make her more amenable to helping them hunting down vampires by threatening to kill her if she didn't join their cause.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I already told Angus I would. Besides, that Morgan guy is an exWhite Hat. Jack's bound to know him."

Arnold dialed Jack with his cell phone. Once the White Hat answered, Arnold put it on speakerphone so I could join the conversation.

"Ms. Halloway," Jack acknowledged once Arnold introduced us, "I've heard your name mentioned but I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting. How can I a.s.sist you?"

Arnold spoke up and I sat back to let him ask the questions. "We need to know about Russell Morgan and the AOA. What can you tell us?"

Jack was silent for so long, Arnold checked to make sure the line hadn't disconnected.

"Russell Morgan is...an unpleasant character. I'm not sure this is something I can discuss with you, Arnold."

"Have I ever betrayed your confidence? Come on, help me out here."

Jack growled something distorted over the cell phone line. Arnold leaned forward on the couch, furrows appearing between his brows.

"Your secret's safe," Arnold said, giving me a warning look when I opened my mouth. I quieted, rolling my eyes, though I was terribly curious how Arnold knew so much about Jack and how they had met. What was the hunter's secret? "This is trouble. You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't need to know."

Jack growled something again, this time resigned instead of angry. "You're going to get me killed if he ever finds out I talked to you."

"He won't."

"Look, Russ is bad news. He used to be part of our team out here, but he got violent. Unnecessarily so. He managed to cover it up from the cops, but he and another guy killed some furball's wife and kids in the process of hunting the Other down. Sure, they were sympathizers, but the girl was human and we don't know for sure if the kids carried the virus. They didn't deserve to die for that. The guy who was with him that night told me what happened.

"Russ admitted to it when I confronted him but disagreed that he'd done anything wrong. He wasn't caught by the police, so it was okay."

I was gaping by this time but Arnold wasn't fazed. He pulled out one of the papers spread out on the table and studied it, nodding along as Jack talked. "Go on."

"He knows too much about us to turn him over for his crimes, but we wouldn't have anything more to do with him. Having him stay or ratting him out was too dangerous, either way. When he left, he took a few of our less inhibited members with him and formed the Anti-Other Alliance. Some real gems in that outfit. Can't say as I was sorry to see most of them go. He still calls up here now and then looking for new members. Last I heard, the AOA was concentrating on ousting that one leech from D.C. They wanted to relocate there after they ran into so much trouble getting rid of the one in Atlanta. I hear it took Van Alstyne halving their numbers before they gave up and started looking for a new city to work out of."

"Van Alstyne?" I whispered.

"The vamp in charge of Atlanta," Arnold answered, his attention still centered on the paper in his hands. "Jack, did you know the AOA is in New York?"

"What?!" the White Hat exclaimed, his shock turning to anger and demand in an instant. "Where? How do you know it was them?"

Judging by Jack's reaction, either Ace had lied to me in my office, or Russell Morgan had lied to his henchman. Interesting and potentially useful information, though it was nothing that would yield any clues as to what they were after.

"They attacked Sara and me outside of The Underground tonight. Check the news. I'll text you some names, dates, and locations after we hang up."

"d.a.m.n it!" It sounded like Jack hit something. The distortion of the cell phone made it hard to tell. "s.h.i.+t, Arnold, why didn't you say so in the first place? Morgan isn't supposed to cross the state line. We had an agreement. I'll see if I can reach him. I need to find him before he does something drastic."

"Too late," I muttered.

"What?" Jack must have overheard me.

"I said, 'too late.' They killed a bystander outside the club."

Another thump, this time more like a head hitting a desk. "Please tell me it wasn't a human."

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat as I rubbed at the scab that had formed on my neck. It was too shallow to require st.i.tches, and after cleaning away the crusted blood the paramedics hadn't even bothered to put a bandage on it. Too neat a cut to need it, they said. "It was one of the attendants outside the club."

"Probably a donor. Salvageable, if you can get to them before they get addicted or bound to a vamp." After a brief lull, I jumped at Jack's venomous snarl. "We're not supposed to kill them, them, just their masters! G.o.d just their masters! G.o.dd.a.m.n, Russ never learned the difference." Russ never learned the difference."

"Jack," Arnold cut in, "can you help us out? We need to find this guy before he hurts somebody else."

The hunter went quiet briefly, probably considering his words before responding. "I'll help you. You can't connect the White Hats to this, understand? If I find out where he is, you can't tell the police you found out from me. Tell them you used a spell or something."

"I will. Thanks, Jack."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll call when I've got something."

He hung up without saying goodbye. Arnold put the phone back in his pocket and started shuffling the papers back into a neat pile.

"That went well," I said, collecting the plates. Buster perked up at that, getting up to follow me hopefully to the kitchen. Roxie stayed where she was, happily curled at Arnold's feet. "What's the big secret, anyway?"

"Not mine to tell." Arnold smiled to soften the blunt words. "Don't worry. Jack's got some skewed priorities but he's not a bad guy. He's good at what he does, too. He'll track Morgan down."

I nodded and walked out of the room, Buster bouncing like an overgrown puppy at my heels, begging for sc.r.a.ps. I tossed the remains of our sandwiches into his bowl before putting the dishes in the sink and pausing to stare out the window into the shadowed yard.

Some of the White Hat's comments were bugging me, sticking with me despite the fact that there wasn't anything I could do about them. The casual admission of covered-up murder wasn't sitting easy. No matter how the hunters may have justified it, there was a Were-something out there whose wife and kids were taken away from him because he wasn't human. He'd never know why or how, because Jack couldn't bring himself to go to the cops and turn in their killer. There had to be a pretty d.a.m.ned convincing reason for the hunter to keep his silence.

I really hoped Jack was as good a guy as Arnold thought he was.

Chapter 11.

Another hour spent studying the contents of the file didn't yield anything else of use. Arnold didn't object when I got up to check my messages. The dogs stayed at his feet. Odd, they usually followed me everywhere when I let them in the house.

My desk upstairs felt strangely empty after I tilted the framed picture of Mark down on its face. Doing my best to resist the urge to smash the frame and tear up the photo, I tapped the play b.u.t.ton on the answering machine. I didn't pay close attention to the messages at first, more interested in my e-mails than listening to Janine take five minutes to get around to asking me to come over for dinner next week.

Soon my attention was dragged off my computer monitor by a familiar and entirely unwelcome voice.