The door creaked open again.
Two men in military uniform stood in the entrance, and Benedikte—the godforsaken Master—reared on them, hissing as he stretched himself wide.
With only a gasp of terror, the men’s eyes bugged out, as if witnessing hell frozen over.
Benedikte laughed and laughed, finally triumphant, until he glanced in Sorin’s corner, where his son was hiding his face.
Turning away from the horror his father had become.
T
HE
next day, the horizon was just bleeding into dusk when Dawn drove Kiko back to the office after a bout of physical therapy.
She was tuckered out. Not only had she conferenced with the therapist about Kik’s progress (“We’ll keep an eye on that medication,” was the only lame solution for now), but earlier, the whole team had brainstormed and individually trained. Dawn had made sure that her own workout had been especially grueling.
After telling the team about Matt’s take on Jessica Reese and that’s all (right, like Dawn was going to mention Eva’s damned dress to anyone,
ever
), she’d gotten out the old whip chain. The goal had been to stay frosty with her newly acquired skills, but the exercise had gone beyond that: Dawn had worked until the sweat washed off last night’s stinging disappointment.
(The cleansing hadn’t lasted long.)
After getting showered, she met Kiko in the computer room, having decided to follow up on those links about Lane Tomlinson, Lee’s brother.
“Crap,” she said, clicking back to the search engine’s home page when she saw that there was nothing worth noting. “Sometimes I think the only thing that’s going to give us the big lead is another murder.”
“Don’t jinx anyone.” Kiko was settled at a smaller table, ramrod straight with his back brace. “But…okay, I’ve thought about that, too, especially if the copycat killer starts getting cocky and careless.
That’s
when we could get a break.”
“Man, I’d hate to rely on another woman getting killed.”
Her cell phone rang. When she looked at the screen to find Jacqueline Ashley’s name listed, Dawn’s blood pressure shot up.
They’re calling me a throwback,
Jac had said that day in the hospital before taking off her ball cap and revealing blond hair just like Eva’s, forcing Dawn to focus on a face that seemed to conjure her dead mother’s.
Jac had been excited, yet wary, about Dawn’s reaction to the makeover.
They say that, even though I don’t look exactly like her, I remind them of your mom….
Mom. Dawn had only known her from pictures: giddy wedding photos of Eva’s ill-advised marriage to everyday-average Frank. Publicity stills of a rising movie goddess. The crime-scene photo tinted with blood.
Now, as the phone rang again, Matt’s betrayal from last night lent new life to the Eva bitterness, snaking into the old fear and confusion Dawn had nurtured year after year.
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word….
“What’s wrong?” Kiko asked.
Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird….
“Jac.” The name was nothing more than a painful croak.
Kiko bounded over to Dawn. “Aren’t you going to answer?”
When Dawn didn’t make a move to do so, he grabbed the phone.
Immediately, he began chirping away, happy as can be. Dawn recalled that Jac had sort of made her feel that way, too, once upon a time before this whole makeover thing.
She needed to stop freaking out. For the last time, Jac was Jac and nothing more. Hell, if that wasn’t true, The Voice would’ve stepped in already, pinpointing Jacqueline Ashley as a masquerading vamp.
Feeling her sanity whirling down a black hole, Dawn fought back, holding out her hand to Kiko for the phone. When he didn’t give it to her right away, she tugged it from him.
“Party,” Kiko said sotto voce. “She wants you to go out tonight, you lucky dog.”
“Hey,” Dawn said to Jac. She kept looking at Kiko, as if he was some kind of stabilizing force that would keep her from gurgling down the drain.
“There you are.” Jac’s voice, bright and sunny. “I was thinking you were avoiding me.”
“Been real busy, that’s all.”
“Tell me about it. Buccaneer boot camp just ended, but we’ll be shooting at the studio now. Maybe I’ll get some time to start fencing at Dipak’s again. We’ll have to do that soon, before I go on location, all right? Boot camp made me a lot better. And wait ’til I tell you about all the gossip. Dawn, do you know that movie people actually call each other ‘darling’? I can’t get over that.”
“You will.”
All the golly-gee-whiz talk drove home that Jac really was a small-town girl who’d come to Hollywood via some modeling contest. Or…
Dawn stopped. Even Breisi had said the starlet was only a Tinseltown carbon copy of Eva and no more.
Breisi
, the steadiest person Dawn knew. So why was Dawn still thinking the worst?
“What are you up to tonight?” Jac asked.
“Work.”
Kiko shot Dawn a look, probably knowing she was making excuses not to see Jac again. He’d crawled back into his chair, leaning on an elbow propped on a bigger table, lovestruck and all
Bye Bye Birdie
–ish.
“You work too much.” Jac laughed. “I’m going to kidnap you. There’s a party Paul Aspen is throwing, and I’m not really comfortable enough with the cast yet to show up by myself.”
Paul Aspen, prince of the heartland. In twenty years, he’d be remembered as an actor who built his fortune on flag-waving movies, but he had recently branched out. Hushed gossip said that his worst vice was “deflowering” young girls on the set and off, but Joe and Phyllis Matinee didn’t know that.
“Be my bodyguard?” Jac added kiddingly.
“Industry parties aren’t really my scene.”
Kiko lightly hit her.
“Wait, Jac.” She held the phone to her shoulder.
“Call back,” Kiko said.
Slightly annoyed, Dawn returned, then promised the actress she’d get back to her in a few minutes. A weight dropped off Dawn as she hung up.
Wow, she could breathe again.
But Kiko robbed her of that real quick. “You should go.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because
I’d
kill to see her, and I’m not going to let you cut off my Jac connections just because you hate the Hollywood status quo.”
At the notion of seeing the girl again, panic welled. Foolish or not, it was time for Dawn to lay it on the line.
“Remember a few days ago when the possibility of Underground vamps having plastic surgery came up?”
Kiko looked at her sidelong.
“I can’t help thinking,” Dawn continued, “what, with the things we found out about Robby Pennybaker’s own faked ‘murder’ and planned ‘comeback’ that…”
Kiko finished for her. “You think she’s Eva with plastic surgery, and that Jac could have been Underground, just like Robby.”
Dawn had refused to talk about that day in the hospital, but she knew Breisi had filled in Kiko and The Voice. She was glad she didn’t have to go through all the details again.
“Here’s the thing,” Kiko said. “I don’t think you should worry about Jac. She’s actually been under watch, just like a lot of people we’ve been in contact with. So far, she’s clean.”
“Jac was under Friend surveillance…?”
“Uh-huh, and the Friends are spread thin. We don’t exactly have a surplus, and they need to get back home every once in a while to sort of refuel, know what I mean?”
“Gee, Kik, thanks for telling me about this before.”
He shook his head, as if she should’ve learned better by now. “You’re never going to know everything that happens around here. Not unless you need to, Dawn.
I’m
used to it by now.”
So just accept it,
he didn’t have to add.
Just know that you’re doing your part to save the world, Prophecy Girl.
“Obviously,” Kiko continued, “Jac isn’t a concern, or else the boss would’ve had
us
follow up on her.”
Yeesh, maybe it wasn’t obvious, but at the hospital, Dawn had almost broken down at the thought of a resurrected Eva.
Couldn’t they see what she was seeing—?
Wait. Good God, she’d never even looked beyond her own shock.
She calmed herself, thinking rationally for once. What if Jac/Eva could lead her to the Underground? Shouldn’t she be wondering about that?
“Go. To. The. Party,” Kiko was saying. “There’s nothing pressing happening tonight anyway. Breisi wanted to go over what we know about Jessica Reese
again
, then she’ll probably hermit up in her lab.”
She saw a flash of something off-kilter in his gaze, but he looked away before she could call him on it.
“Why don’t you and Breez come with me?”
“Because Jacqueline Ashley isn’t…Dawn, you can’t go around thinking everything, including Jac, is going to attack you. Believe me, you gotta get out of that phase. When I saw my first monster, I went through it, too, but you need to chill before you do even more damage.”
She knew he was talking about the homeless woman. How many times had she told herself the same thing?
How damned many?
He got out of his chair. “Clear it with the boss if you decide to go. And”—he turned away—“I hope you do. I hope Jac helps you get out of this funk.”
He left the room in a rush, never looking back.
But Dawn barely noticed because she was already thinking of ways to get the truth out of her starlet “pal.”
Even if no one else believed in her suspicions.
J
AC
had gotten a new Prius and, while she drove up the Pacific Coast Highway to Paul Aspen’s home in Malibu, she chattered away about her new ride.
“I decided on cherry red because I’m still such a sorority girl at heart, but the flip color doesn’t scream ‘tree-hugger hybrid driver.’ That’s what my PR guy said—buying this car, no matter what color it is, shows I’m concerned about the environment, even though I’m not giving interviews about it.” Jac grinned. “Isn’t all of that so major? All
I
wanted to do was save some gas.”
Jac’s window was only slightly gaped, ensuring that her hair didn’t get messy, even though faint huffs of the summer-night breeze still played with her long blond waves. Tonight, she wasn’t wearing her usual sunglasses and, at first, Dawn had flinched when looking into Jac’s brown irises. The last time that had happened, Dawn had seen Eva with all the clarity of a knife shearing into her stomach. This time…not so much.
Maybe the shock had worn off?
As Dawn tried to return Jac’s grin, she noticed that the starlet really did look like she’d been in a boot camp for the last month; it wasn’t that she’d lost weight—no, she looked like the usual slender Jac in her white silk tank and a pair of tight black pants. It was just that her skin was duller than the usual pearly complexion. Or maybe it was just Dawn’s vampire-steeped imagination taking over.
Jac noticed the visual inventory, so Dawn casually said, “Looks like you haven’t been eating well.”
“I know, I know,” Jac said. “Nerves—total nerves! But that’s all going to change. I’ve been assigned a nutritionist. Can you believe that? Someone’s going to tell
me
how to eat, like I don’t have a clue.”
“There’ll be a lot of someones telling you how to do everything from now on.”
Jac nodded, respecting Dawn’s own moviemaking expertise. Sure, she’d “just” been a stuntwoman, but she knew the ropes.
The ride went quiet, a little tense. As they drove along the surflined highway, the radio DJ talked gossip: Justin Timberlake in Vegas, Paris Hilton’s most recently discovered sex video, Darrin Ryder’s recovery from last month’s mugging and his big night back on the town—
Jac snicked off the radio, not that Dawn cared. She wasn’t a big Ryder fan; his harassment on a movie set was just one of many reasons she’d found herself on the outs in her stunt career.
Minding her seat belt, Dawn pulled her jacket tighter around her. After The Voice had given her permission to “take care of some personal business” for a few hours, she’d armed up and driven to Jac’s. Chances were there’d be a security check at the door—unless Jac had enough clout as the production’s ingénue to get them out of it—so Dawn had adjusted her weapons accordingly.
Item one: if Jac were Eva, she might be like Robby Pennybaker, who’d been basically unaffected by holy objects; this meant Dawn had forgone most of those items except for a few just-in-case standbys, like a bit of holy water and the crucifix she always wore. Item two: Dawn might never get inside the party with a gun or blades, so she’d brought less obvious weapons. Silver, which had poisoned Robby, was her greatest ally right now so, among other things, she’d worn a necklace, bracelet, and earrings that were sharp enough to pierce a vamp’s skin if they got too close. Breisi had constructed the jeweled set a while ago, so Dawn had borrowed them. She’d also grabbed a lighter and a mini aerosol hairspray—a makeshift flamethrower in case fire could stop an attacking vamp.
So here she was—a real live vamp hunter. She hadn’t even rubbed down with garlic, deciding not to offend everyone at the party tonight. Instead, she’d been sneakier, bringing along a small perfume dispenser full of garlic essence that she could mist onto her skin. It would work for lower-level vamp repulsion if she needed it. Subtle yet armed.
Jac pulled onto Malibu Colony Drive, where they came to guarded gates. After Jac’s ID quickly ushered them through, she continued to Paul Aspen’s mansion, which also boasted security at the entrance. As they pulled into the drive, tropical vegetation loomed above them, lush and still.
While the guards checked the car ahead, red taillights glowed through the windshield. Dawn turned to Jac, and the girl smiled brightly, washed over by the sanguine shade.
A bolt of anguish at seeing her mother covered in red again ripped through Dawn. Her stomach went sour. Still, it was time to start working. Time to solve what the hell was going on.
“Know something funny?” Dawn asked.
“I can always use some comedy.”
Here it goes,
she thought, primed to pay careful attention to every detail of Jac’s reactions.
She let out a tiny, uncomfortable laugh,
Acting!
like her comment was about to embarrass her. “Last time I saw you in person, back at the hospital…”
Dawn trailed off purposely.
Jac merely tilted her head in a casual listening pose.
“I…” Dawn laughed again. “Well, seeing you all made over…For a weird second, I actually thought you were my mom, like you’d come back to life. Isn’t that messed up?”