I closed my eyes and clenched my hands into fists. "Don't go there Mike. Really, don't."
"Fine, if you won't leave, then get drunk. It's your only hope if you stay in town."
I let out an exasperated breath. "Why can't you get it through your head? He's theirs, Michael. They own him." It was the truth. Dylan might still be alive but I sure as hell hadn't saved him. He was a Host now and I couldn't change that. I hated that I was completely powerless.
Michael shook his head. Once, then twice. "I know you think Dylan betrayed you by doing this, but he wouldn't lie. Not about this. Not to me. They may own his body, Kate. They don't own his soul."
"I'm not sure I'm ready to take that chance. Do you know where he is? I can find out if he's telling the truth."
He gave me a blistering look that I hadn't seen since his hockey days. "I've told you everything I'm allowed to, Kate."
Ah, the sanctity of the confessional. Mike would take Dylan's secrets with him to the grave if need be. "Then there's nothing I can do with the information you've given me. I can only treat it as a lie. I'm sorry, Michael."
"For God's sake, Kate!" Mike threw up his hands in a gesture of exasperation. "Will you at least think about it? Please?"
I nodded my head and stood to go. "Goodbye, Michael." I raised my voice a little bit. "Bye, Bryan." No response, but then I hadn't really expected one.
Michael looked at me with serious eyes. "See you next week, Kate." Not goodbye. Never goodbye. Then he turned and walked back to his charges. He didn't look back as I left the church.
13
It was nearing dark. I kept replaying the
conversation with Mike in my head. Dylan's place in the scheme of things was still a question mark. He might truly be trying to save me with the tip about alcohol. On the other hand, getting drunk might be just a trick to get my guard down enough for Monica and the rest to dominate my mind. I've never heard of a queen being able to separate from the Hive, and I wouldn't be able to tell whether Dylan was one of Monica's Hosts or not, even if I found him. I'm not that talented. I supposed that someday I could forgive Dylan for doing what he did, but I couldn't trust him. I had too much to lose. I was about two blocks from home when the cell rang, startling me from my musings. I knew before I picked up the line that it was Mike, and that something was seriously wrong.
"What's up, Mike?"
"Is Bryan with you?"
I had to clear my throat twice before I could get words out. "Why would Bryan be with me, Michael? I left him with you polishing pews. Maybe he just went downstairs to his room."
"Jesus Christ, Kate! If I hadn't already searched the church, do you think I'd call you?" When Michael falls back into old swearing habits, it says how much stress he's under. I slammed on my blinker and forced my way into the right lane. If I turned around right now, I could be back at the church in fifteen minutes.
"I'm on my way back, Michael. Which way did you send Carol, so we can cover more ground?" There was a long pause where the only sound was the honking of horns as I swerved around a car pulling out of a parking place. Edna's hard to drive with one hand—no power steering. And it's impossible to shift.
"Michael? Are you still there?"
His voice was careful; hesitant. "I'm here, Kate."
"Then talk to me, damn it! I'm doing almost fifty in a thirty zone to get back there before he can get too far. Which direction do I start from? Where's Carol? Does she have a cell phone with her?"
"Carol's not here, Kate. I don't know where she is." Sadness and worry flowed through the phone line. If I knew Michael, anger would be next.
"Damn it, Michael! Are you telling me that Bryan's been kidnapped?"
I slammed on the brakes just in time not to run a red light directly in front of a cop car. Pay attention, Reilly!
I could almost see Michael running fingers
through his hair. "I don't know, Kate. I just don't know. I made a call in the office. I was only gone a few minutes but when I came back, Bryan was gone and so was Carol. She only works half-days on Friday, but she said earlier that she was going to stay all day."
I took a deep, steadying breath. If I opened my shields now, I could find him. I knew it. But I'd also might as well be lighting a homing beacon for the Thrall to find me. Damn, damn damn! To hell with it. I dropped my shields.
My mind's eye searched the city, feeling for Bryan's presence. I can't really explain how I do it. It's sort of like walking in a familiar dark room and knowing where each piece of furniture is. You have to feel around for them, but you know with absolute certainty they're there. I groped in the darkness for my brother, but finding him was like catching a jumping frog. It took a few seconds of spreading my mind over the city, but I found him. He was in a car. Carol was driving but had
stopped. I might have gotten more had I not been distracted by the blaring of car horns. The light had changed and the cars behind me expected me to move. I pulled around the corner, pulling up to the curb in a no-parking zone. I tried to open my senses again, but came up against the smooth white wall of Monica's shielding.
Shit!
"He's with Carol." I didn't bother to explain how I knew, and Mike didn't ask. "They're in a car. Is there any legitimate reason for her to take him somewhere?"
Mike's voice was flat and cold. "No."
"Fine, give me Carol's home address. I'll head there first. Maybe she's taking him there." I didn't think so, but it was a start.
He read me the information from her application, while I once again turned at a yellow light to head in the direction the address pointed me. I hung up the phone so that he could start to call in some of the church regulars to help search.
I reached the building in moments. It was only a few blocks away. Naturally, there was no parking on the street, but I didn't have time for that now, anyway. I pulled into the alley next to the older brick building and turned off the ignition. Few vehicles other than a trash truck can move Edna out of the way. A brown and white dog behind a
tattered chain link fence barked furiously at my intrusion. I opened the outer door and bolted up the stairs to Apartment 204. I heard sound behind the door, and pounded on the molded steel. "Carol, it's Kate. I need to talk to you!"
A Hispanic woman holding a baby opened the
door. " ¿Que? "
The apartment behind her was furnished in early Salvation Army. Besides the young boy in the mother's arms, there were two more at a table, eating dinner. The television was blaring the Spanish version of Sesame Street.
I wasn't really good in Spanish in school, and I have to struggle to remember even the simplest of lines when I'm in any of the South American countries. I do a little better with understanding.
"Hola. ¿Hables Ingles usted?" She glanced down at my hand and shook her
head. "No, Señorita."
Great! Um . . . well, I can at least tell her I don't speak Spanish very well. Then maybe she won't start into a torrent that I won't be able to follow.
"Yo hablo mal el español." She raised her head and then nodded in understanding. She waited patiently for me to come up with the next phrase while the baby pulled at her shining hair. I wanted to ask if she knew Carol, but I couldn't think of quite the right words. Maybe— where is Carol?
"¿Dónde está Carol Rodgers?" She shook her head with furrowed brows.
"¿Quién? ¿Carol Roggers?" She shook her head a second time, and transferred the infant to her shoulder as he started to howl. "No. No está." She pointed to herself. "Rosa Rodriguez. Aquà tienes mi casa." She held up five fingers.
"Ser de aquà cinco meses."
Of course. Rosa and kiddies had lived in the apartment for five months. It was a fake address. Dear Lord, Michael. What's happening to you?
He must be getting desperate for help not to even check out the woman's application.
I nodded my head and likewise glanced at her hand. A simple gold band gleamed softly on her finger. I turned to go and apologized for bothering her. "Gracias, Señora Rodriguez. Lo lamento molestarle."
"No para nada, Señorita." She smiled as she shut the door. Well, at least I didn't butcher the language enough to make her mad.
I took the steps back down three at a time. I didn't even have to wonder about Carol's motives now. She had Bryan and Monica was protecting her. Monica was breaking the rules again. I had no doubt she was planning to use Bryan as a hostage against me if I didn't stop her. The only way I could was to get to Carol before she got back to the nest. I tried to remember if anyone had ever told me where Monica had her headquarters. I knew she'd abandoned Larry's old haunts, but had anyone told me? I wracked my brain as I doubled back to the church. I just didn't know.
My only hope was that maybe one of the street people had seen something. I stopped when the next light turned red and checked my wallet. I only had about thirty bucks on me. Still, even a few bucks will loosen a lot of tongues down there. I picked up my cell phone again and clicked the down arrow five times to come to the church phone number without even looking at the display. Knowing in which order I've saved the numbers really helps when I'm driving. I hit the send button. It didn't even ring on my end before it was picked up.
"This is Father Michael!" His voice was two shades above panicked.
"It's Kate, Mike. Have you heard anything?" He sighed, and I could imagine him running his fingers through his hair once more. "Not a thing. Any luck with Carol?"
I hesitated. I wanted to spare him any additional anguish, but this wasn't the time for it. I plowed on, trying to keep any hint of reprimand from my voice.
"I got to the address, but someone else lived there. I'm on my way back to the church now to talk to some of the street people. Maybe we can get a lead if we're both looking."
His voice sounded tight and pained. "Kate, I'm so sorry. I'd never have imagined that she would use a fake address. My God in Heaven! What have I done?"
I tried to think of something to say that would console him, but it was a little difficult under the circumstances.
When I got back the church, Michael had
already talked to the people around the church. Nobody saw anything. It was their story and they were sticking to it. Even money couldn't pry information from them, so maybe they really didn't know. Neither of us could find Joe to tell him. He either hadn't taken his cell phone, or was out of range. I either couldn't remember where the seminar was being held, or he hadn't mentioned it. Mike finally insisted that I go home around eleven, because after that many hours, searching in the dark would do no good. We'd pick up the search again in the morning.
I only agreed to go because I knew what I had to do. I drove in to the parking garage, knowing that nobody would be waiting for me. Monica had the only thing she needed to bring me to her. I noticed lights on in Tom's apartment as I drove in, and nearly took the stairs to knock on his door to just have someone to talk to. But I didn't. I called Joe on his cell phone. He answered on the first ring, and sounded panicked. Apparently, Mike had finally reached him.
"Kate! Thank God! Have you found Bryan?" I closed my eyes and tried not to cry again. "Not yet. It got too dark. We couldn't see anything in the alleys or side streets. We're going to start again at dawn. But I need to ask you something."
"Anything. I'm just packing up my things. I'm catching the first flight out that I can find. But the airport here in San Francisco is socked in, so I don't know if it'll be until morning. But I'm going to the airport anyway."
Oh. I didn't realize he was in California. I'd presumed the conference was local. A little bit of the overwhelming worry slipped into my voice.
"Please don't rush so much you get hurt, Joe." His voice was tense, but determined. "I won't. I promise. What's your question?"
"Tell me about werewolves."
As an ER physician, Joe is required to treat anybody and anything that comes through those doors hurt. That includes the "furballs," as the hospital staff less than affectionately refer to the lycanthropes. He might or might not have
information, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.
The outrage in his voice took me by surprise.
"Werewolves! The vampires have Bryan and you're worried about your love life?"
"Joe! This is about Bryan! It's important!" It was probably my tone that silenced him. I heard a shuffling sound and faint squeak that told me he'd sat down on the bed.
"All right." He launched into a monologue that was probably going to make him miss at least one flight. He didn't even ask any questions until he'd finished.
"Lycanthropy is a hereditary condition. It is not contagious in any form. Female lycanthropes are sterile. They protect the males. The pack system is matriarchal. Each pack recruits a human female to be the surrogate and give birth to the puppies for the pack."
"A surrogate—" I thought about Jake's words in the restaurant, and Tom's in his apartment. " We've taken care of it" and "We can't let her get hurt." Was Dusty going to be a mommy? More
importantly, who was the daddy?
Joe continued as if he hadn't heard the
interruption. Maybe he hadn't. "The change is linked to adrenaline. Most of them have very little control over it. They get in a crisis situation and boom, dog time. It's why the state won't issue driver's licenses to known lycanthropes."
"That's got to be a pain in the ass."
"No doubt. Now tell me the truth. This isn't about Tom, is it?"
"Nope. I've got a meeting with the local Acca tomorrow. It's about Dusty. And they might know what's going on with Bryan. They seem to have their ear to the ground in anything involving the Thrall. Thanks. That's enough information for me to meet with the Acca."
"Yeah, right. Talk to me, Kate."
"Look, I don't know much more than I did a couple of minutes ago. But, if it makes you feel any better, I'll call you when I do."
"Promise?"
"Promise." I hung up the phone before he could press for more and went upstairs to try to get some sleep.