Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Beckett
Although it was the middle of the night, the full moon reflecting on Lake Michigan lit up the beach so well those without the benefit of Vampire night vision wouldn’t have a problem seeing.
I leaned against my car and looked up and down the boardwalk, but there was no one.
Times like these remind me what a disadvantage it is to be unable to sense magic.
Vampires were considered the top of the proverbial food chain in the supernatural community. (Or at least we were now that the elves were long gone.) But although we were apex predators, we had a few blinding weaknesses.
One of them was our inability to sense magic.
I pushed off my car and glanced again at the empty beach.
I’d be tempted to ask the werewolves if they’ve smelled any supernaturals besides those already registered, but if they know I’m even remotely looking into the vampire situation, they’ll make it into an excuse to drag me into supernatural issues.
I’d come here tonight to search the area and see if I could pick up any sign of the interloper. If I’d found them, I’d take care of the situation myself and no one would have to be any the wiser.
Unfortunately, I’d found no sign of the vampire.
I’ll have to come again. Or perhaps I should leave a sign of my existence. It might scare them off. But what message could I leave that the other local supernaturals wouldn’t notice?
Annoyed, I got into my sportscar. I was in such a foul mood that even the quiet purr of the engine and the smell of new leather didn’t relax me as I drove off.
It wasn’t completely out of character for me to protect the area from the shadows. I’d done it on multiple occasions before, the most recent incident involving a fae monster that had escaped from the fae realm and stalked the shores of Lake Michigan.
I was, however, taking a great deal more interest in this incident than usual, and I suspect it was the result of my blunt and overly dutiful employee.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I left the city limits and started down a more rural road.
Abigail Marshall was either a risk or a gift, and I wasn’t sure which. (Perhaps she was both?)
To make me—who’d spent decades resisting any kind of call to responsibility—take more interest in the situation… it was unusual to say the least.
I wasn’t going soft in my old age, that much I knew. But that also meant that instead I was just becoming pathetic and weak to the strict guidelines I’d always lived my supernatural life by.
Turning down my driveway, I briefly braked to let four deer cross.
The car headlights happened to hit the carriage house, but at this hour Abi must be fast asleep.
The idiot deer were zig zagging, seemingly unable to commit to either side of the lawn. Since it seemed like I was going to be here for a while, when my phone buzzed with an incoming text message I checked it. Naturally, the text was in what Abi had dubbed the Crusty Old Man Club.
Yamada Ojisan
Anyone know how to frighten raccoons? They’ve mucked up the birdbath in my rock garden again.
Yamada was a Japanese vampire I’d met decades ago when he moved to the States. He’d settled in Minnesota and was deeply obsessed with his gardens. Despite his peaceful existence, he had the tenacity of a shark and was considerably older than me.
Ed
Leave ‘em a gift of dynamite. Kaboom! Put one of them funny smileys then—no, don’t type what I say, phone, I want a smiley!
Yamada Ojisan
I want to discourage the raccoons, Ed. Not wreak havoc and destruction.
K. Drake
Why are we discussing gardening techniques? I thought this text group was for discussing technology, or at the very least issues involving the supernatural community and vampire survival?
I snorted at my friend’s message and chimed in.
Considering you texted asking if anyone knew of any unicorn herds in Wisconsin three days ago—which we all know is not because you have a sudden appreciation for magical equines but because your wife does—you hardly have room to judge.
K. Drake
Allow me to point out that my question about unicorns involved supernaturals!
ED
If you’re so against dynamite Mr. Zen Monk, good luck getting rid of those pests!
Contact a local werewolf Pack to come around. That’ll scare away all animals.
K. Drake
A good idea. I vote for that one, too. But when they come over, fortify yourself for a lot of butt sniffing.
Yamada Ojisan
Is this a remark made from experience?
K. Drake
Not my experience, but let’s just say the vampire who experienced it still doesn’t want to talk about it.
The deer frolicking on my lawn had finally committed to a side, so I was able to start down my driveway again.
I was surprised when the front door of the carriage house opened and Abi shuffled outside, wearing knit shorts and an enormous shirt that had the Algoma logo on it she must have bought somewhere in town, and clutching a white mug while squinting at my car.
I rolled my window down. “I apologize. Did the car lights wake you up?”
Abi toasted me with her mug. “Nah. I was already up to get some water since I woke up thirsty. But what were you up to? Some late night hauntings?”
“Something like that,” I said, strangely resistant to telling her of my covert activities.
Not that she would have bothered me the way supernaturals would. But she’d be bound to ask me why I was doing my investigation. That was a question I didn’t want to answer.
Abi took a big slug from her mug. “I’ve been wondering, do you have to go hunting—animals, since I know people hunting is illegal—to satisfy your prey drive?”
“What?” I squinted up at her, trying to gauge if she was serious. (Abi was always serious.)
“You know, to subdue your inner bloodlust or whatever.”
“I’m not a werewolf.”
“Oof. Now that sounded speciesist.” Abi raised her eyebrows at me, then judgmentally sipped her water.
I rolled my eyes. “Certain kinds of shifters, including werewolves, do have a predator drive and chasing instinct.”
“Based on your reaction it seems that vampires are above such base desires?” Abi asked.
“Younger vampires are more susceptible to bloodlust,” I admitted. “But any vampire with a shred of power can easily overcome it.”
“Hmmm.” Abi rubbed her thumb on the edge of her mug. “So the vampire doing these attacks must be old enough to control themselves, yeah?”
I almost nodded, but caught myself at the last moment, and instead gave her a flat look. “You shouldn’t be pondering those attacks in the middle of the night. Go to bed.”
“You judge my night musings when you’re coming back at… I don’t know what time it is, but it is some ungodly hour of the morning, young man!” Abi, copying her parents from her playful tone and the way she planted a hand on her hip and shook her head in dramatized disappointment.”
“Vampires are night creatures,” I said.
“Yeah, sure. You were just sneaking off to meet some blood donor, weren’t you?”
“What?”
“I know all about blood donors! I looked it up, and the blood pack delivery company left some brochures with their first shipment,” Abi said.
“Reading about blood doesn’t upset you?” I asked, curious.
“No, as long as they don’t include visuals.” Abi said. “But you’re not going to distract me! You have a secret donor!”
I laughed. “I don’t have a secret donor. I’m in hiding, so I can’t risk having a donor of any sort.”
“Oh.” Abi looked thoughtful. “Right. That makes sense.” She blinked a few times, then gave me a beaming smile.
I scratched my jaw to keep from what was sure to be a smug look.
She’d presented the question playfully, but it seemed like she was pleased I had no donor. That she cared about it made me feel satisfied.
“Well, I’d better listen to you and get back to bed and let you get back to… planning raids on museums?”
I snorted. “Sleep well, Abi.”
“Good night, Beckett!” Abi waved, then shuffled back into the carriage house.
I eased off the brake and let my sportscar inch down the driveway, watching in my rearview mirror until I saw the lights turn off in the carriage house.
I’d find the vampire responsible for attacks, not just for the sake of the supernatural community, but because of an unshakeable paranoia in me that the rogue might find Abi just as addictive as I did.