Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Abi
The sound of my name shattered whatever held me.
I shook my head, and my heart suddenly exploded into life, hammering in my chest.
“Abi?” It was Daphne, I recognized, as she jogged up the street towards me.
“Yep, I’m here.” I fumbled with my cellphone and turned on the flashlight, shining it at the bench beneath the pergola.
There was nothing there.
I warily scanned the area, but there was nothing.
There was no way I imagined that feeling. Could it have been, what did Daphne call them? Vampire pheromones?
I scanned the area with my phone’s light again, but there was nothing. So I turned to meet Daphne with a smile. “What’s up?”
“Mr. Kinge sent me after you,” Daphne explained as she slowed to a stop next to me. “He saw you’d wandered up the block and said you’d been gone too long.”
Thank goodness for Beckett’s diligence.
I nodded, again scanning the streets. “Hey, do you smell or hear anything out of place?”
Daphne raised her nose up, scenting the air. “Anything in particular?”
I casually shrugged. “Maybe a vampire?”
Daphne snapped her gaze back to me. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I just felt something weird, and I thought maybe it could have been of supernatural origins.”
“Describe it.”
I tried to describe the sensation, but I only got a few sentences out before Daphne grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me back towards the marina. “Come on.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The sensation you just described very well could be vampire pheromones. So we’re going to get the rest of the pack to see if we can find a trail.”
Reassured I wasn’t making a big deal over nothing, I started running.
The knot of worry that had started to form in my stomach didn’t ease, however, until we reached the marina and I could pick out Beckett’s back—tall, broad shouldered, and with excellent posture—among the werewolves.
“Pack,” Daphne called out to her family. “We’ve got trouble.”
“Maybe!” I emphatically added as I stopped next to Beckett, breathing heavily from the run.
Beckett turned to me, his red eyes visible in the streetlights as he inspected me from head to toe. “You’re not injured?”
I waved a hand, still huffing as I tried to regain my breath. “I’m fine.”
“Although she might have been pheromoned by that vamp that’s going around snacking on locals,” Daphne said, her voice lowered.
“Explain,” Beckett growled as he took off his baseball cap.
I let Daphne explain, though I did scoot a little closer to Beckett. There was something about being near to him that felt… reassuring.
When Daphne finished, the werewolves looked to Beckett for instructions. I figured he’d object, or tell them the issue didn’t involve us.
Instead, he narrowed his eyes, and although it wasn’t aimed at me I could feel the intensity of Beckett’s power waft off him. “Go ahead of us and check out the area. See if you can scent out any pheromone usage, or supernaturals. We’ll be along shortly.”
“Yes, Mr. Kinge!”
“Understood, Mr. Kinge!”
Beckett swiveled to study me as the werewolves were off, sprinting across the marina parking lot at a speed I never could have hoped to achieve.
“Are you okay?” Beckett asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Daphne stopped… whatever that was from happening.”
Beckett did another head to toe inspection of me. “You’re certain you’re fine?”
I smiled. The thirty-five percent of my feelings that are Beckett’s fault aren’t just due to his lack of personal space. It’s also because he cares.
“I’m certain I’m fine now,” I said.
Beckett nodded slowly. “Good,” he said. “Will you be okay if we join the werewolves?”
“Yes.” I started to amble across the parking lot. “I want to see how they scent things out.”
Beckett grunted. “It’s not that exciting. They get impressive results, yes, but they generally look like they’re searching for money they dropped on the ground in the process.”
I laughed and shook my hands, trying to rid myself of the last bits of adrenaline that had my fingers shaking.
Beckett caught onto my ploy and, without looking at me, he caught my hand and held it in his.
His palm and fingers were cooler than mine—a vampire thing—but given that I was extra hot and sticky between the run, the heat of the summer night, and my rush of adrenaline, the gentle hold he had on my hand was reassuring.
Finally, my shoulders slumped with relief.
I was with Beckett. I was safe, no matter what was slinking around the shadows.
“I still can’t believe we were unable to find any scent around the pergola.” Daphne’s amber eyes glinted in the fading sunlight and the lakeside breeze played in her wavy dark brown hair, but a scowl twisted her lips.
I stood at her side, hands on my hips and squinting at the tourists that swarmed Algoma’s Crescent Beach. “That happened three days ago. You need to let it go, Daphne.”
Although the sky was starting to turn primrose pink with the setting sun, it was still so bright with the light reflecting on Lake Michigan that I was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, and had suntan lotion smeared on my face.
In fact, I fit right in with the cruise ship tourists milling around on the beach as they waited for the boats that would take them back to the giant, white cruise ship anchored farther out in the lake.
Daphne, a true local, was going barefoot on the pebbly beach/coal walk. “But it feels like a Pack failure,” she said, still referring to the night I’d gotten dosed with vampire pheromones.
“You couldn’t help it,” I pointed out. “Someone had dropped three bottles of wine in the area while we conferenced at the marina, so the whole place stunk of booze. Even Beckett said so.”
Beckett had let the issue go—which made sense given his no political stance.
Although every night since then he’d been leaving for a few hours in the middle of the night and coming back all sneaky like.
(I was pretending not to know about it because he seemed to want to keep his actions on the down low.)
Daphne shook her head, then started marching down the beach. “Somehow that makes it even worse.”
I hurried to catch up with my werewolf friend. “Maybe there was no scent to pick up. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.”
Daphne scoffed. “There’s no way. Besides, I could tell you were out of it when I approached you.” As she walked, she raised her chin in the air—not from sheer stubbornness, even though she had plenty of that.
She was scenting the air. We’d made arrangements to meet up today—the day when one of the cruise ships came in to port, so to speak—to see if she could scent the rogue supernatural out on the prowl.
We’d already gone up and down the beach twice with no such luck, but I’m not sure if that was a good or bad sign.
I scratched my chin and found a smear of suntan lotion I hadn’t fully rubbed in. “At least my getting pheromoned solidified the knowledge that we’re dealing with a vampire.”
“A gutsy vampire. It was barely dark, and there were plenty of locals around.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m positive the vampire didn’t know you and your Pack was so close, or he—”
“Or she,” Daphne interjected before bending down and sniffing at the sand.
“Sure, or he or she wouldn’t have risked trying to pheromone me,” I said.
At least now I know Beckett has never used any pheromones on me. Not that I doubted him. But considering my cautious personality it feels like I fell for him ridiculously fast. Although I suppose it has been nearly two months.
“Hmm,” Daphne said.”
“Smell anything supernatural-y?” I asked with very little hope.
Daphne stood on her tip-toes, popping high above the crowd. “Not yet. But there’s lots of perfumes and scented sprays clouding the air so I could be missing something. I’m starting to regret that I didn’t ask Flint to come.”
“He’s just a kid. He should be doing kid stuff.”
“Maybe, but he’s got a better nose than me.”
“Ah.” I squinted in the sunlight and debated how to bring up the topic of Christopher. “You know, there’s someone in particular I’m wondering if they could be a vampire.”
“Someone in your personal life? An ex-boyfriend, perhaps?” Daphne chuckled at her own joke, until we passed by a family and she caught a whiff of the mother changing a baby’s diaper and she broke into coughs.
“No. I meant here, in Algoma,” I explained. “Someone who might be the psycho attacking vampire.”
Daphne went still, her muscles going taut. “You mean a local?”
“No. Well, kind of? He’s new to the area.”
Daphne flattened her lips and started walking again. “You’re really bad at this explaining thing. Who are you talking about?”
“Christopher. He works as a handyman.”
“For Mr. Kinge?”
“Yes.”
Daphne tilted her head to the left, then to the right as she thought. “Christopher… I can’t think of an Algoma handyman by that name.”
“He’s new to the area—that’s why I thought he could be our vamp. He arrived shortly before I did. Plus, he doesn’t know much about technology, even stuff like video doorbells and refrigerator filters.”
“That doesn’t make him a supernatural, that makes him a traditionalist.”
“Yes, but he also keeps odd hours. He only works in early mornings or late evenings, and he always looks like he’s a step away from consumption, and he’s got this fancy, old fashioned, dramatic personality. Like he’s a Shakespearian character.”
Daphne’s forehead wrinkled as we ducked around a pair of tourists. “Okay, perhaps there is something to your worry. Except if he was a vampire, wouldn’t Mr. Kinge know?”
“Yeah, although I’m not sure how much they interacted before I came around. And besides, to your point, if Christopher is a vampire, he’s doing a terrible job of hiding it.”
“If you see him, point him out and I’ll give him a sniff.” Daphne discreetly scratched her nose. “Any lead is worth following at this point. If the vampire keeps following their hunting patterns, they’re due for a third victim any day.”
“That’s a happy thought.” I grimaced, then scanned the crowd, which was thinning out as another round of tourists had left for the cruise ship. I spotted a familiar face and held in a grin. “Don’t look now, but you’ve got an admirer on your tail.”
Daphne made a pained noise that sounded like a dog whining. “Noah?”
“Yep.”
“Great. We’ll have to shake him, or he’ll follow us and keep trying to talk to me, and that will distract me while I’m trying to decipher scents.”
“Understood. But I’m not sure how to dispatch him.”
I kept on scanning the crowd—which was now more locals than visitors—for inspiration, which was how I spotted Shannon. “Unless, perhaps I do. Shannon!” I waved and approached my fellow employee. (If anything could cool the teenager’s ardor, it would be a local woman who knew his mother.)
“Abi! Oh, and if it isn’t Alpha Daphne of our resident werewolf Pack! What a pleasant surprise!” Shannon beamed as she strode up to us, barefoot like Daphne. (These locals. All of them had the feet of hobbits.)
“Hello, Shannon. I assume this is another case of locals knowing locals?” I asked.
“Everyone in Algoma knows Alpha Daphne,” Shannon said. “We have to, in order to pay our respects!”
Daphne looks embarrassed and awkwardly nodded a hello to Shannon.
“What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued.
“We don’t have a lot of supernaturals in these parts,” Shannon explained. “We’ve got some gnomes, but we don’t see them much. Mostly we’re known for the Ahnapee River Pack, even though we share the Pack since their territory extends beyond Algoma.”
“I see,” I said, still confused. This must be another small town thing I didn’t quite understand.
Maybe it was tied to local pride? That could be why Shannon and Jonas seemed to dislike the Lake Michigan mermaids so much, because they weren’t local.
Although this was also possibly another example of why Beckett didn’t want to out himself as a supernatural…
The thought bothered me for some reason—no, that’s being inaccurate. I knew perfectly well why. It was because as long as Beckett was hiding who he was, there was no way I could hang around him for more than a few years. Any kind of long-term relationship with him was impossible.
Regardless, I didn’t like mulling over the thought, so to distract myself, I casually twisted at the waist and looked behind us.
Sure enough Noah was hanging back, looking torn.
We’re as good as free.
Clearing my throat, I returned my attention to my friends. “Where’s your partner in crime?” I asked Shannon.
“Jonas?” Shannon checked her phone. “Last I saw he was coaxing Christopher out of the shade and was trying to get him on the beach.”
I exchanged glances with Daphne. “Christopher is here?”
“Yeah. Jonas dragged him out here.” Shannon shaded her eyes and looked past us. “Is that Noah Barkly?”
“I believe it is,” Daphne said. “We’ll leave so you can go say hello.”
“Thanks! I need to ask if he knows if his mom is volunteering for the Friends of the Crescent Beach booth for the Soar on the Shore Kite & Beach Festival” Shannon beamed at us, then marched off in Noah’s direction. “Noah! Noah Barkly—don’t you dare run. I have a question for you!”
Noah panicked and spun in a circle, but Shannon was too fast for the teenager and grabbed him by the shoulder before he could bolt.
“And now we look for Jonas and Christopher,” I concluded as we restarted our stroll along the beach. I glanced at the boardwalk, watching for the jolly cleaner. “You know Jonas, right?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if Jonas has ever met a stranger,” Daphne said absent mindedly as she still sniffed the air.
The beach was now mostly empty of tourists, and the only ones still present were ones who were likely staying in town.
“True,” I agreed. “I relied on him and Shannon for local information a lot when I first came to Algoma. And now that I think of it, the duo might be Christopher’s only friend.”
“Interesting.” Daphne momentarily crouched to sniff something, then sneezed at the strong scent and caught up with me in one long stride.
I scanned the boardwalk, freezing when I spotted Jonas’s hair-free head. “There they are.” I grabbed Daphne’s arm and pointed. “On the boardwalk.”
“Christopher is the pale, willowy one who looks like he’s suffering from lead poisoning I take it?”
“Yep. I think they’re heading for the stairs.”
Daphne scowled. “That means they’re going up to the street level and they’re probably leaving the beach.”
“Can you smell Christopher?”
“No. We’re up wind from them—I need to get down wind to clearly scent him, or get up close.” Daphne looks conflicted for a moment. “You stay here on the beach. I’ll chase after them and see if I can get a sniff.”
“Sure,” I said, guessing she was thinking back to the night I nearly got myself jumped by the vampire. “There’s plenty of people. I’ll be safe.”
“Yeah.” Daphne narrowed her eyes. “Stay. Right here.” She gave me another warning glance, then sprinted after Jonas and Christopher.