I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel.
It was past midnight, and I felt strong and alert.
Of course, any vampire would be strong and alert. Hanner, for instance, was older than me by many decades, perhaps centuries. A concept that still boggled the mind and, as always, made me seriously question my sanity.
The moon was in its half state. It appeared and disappeared behind the taller trees that ran along this upscale neighborhood. A few cars came by. I was parked behind a bend, between two massive homes. Fullerton Hills might not be Beverly Hills, but these homes were damn nice in my book.
I drummed my fingers some more on the steering wheel, and decided to use what skills I did possess.
I closed my eyes and cast my thoughts out, wondering if I was close enough to Hanner’s house to get a good look inside and outside. Turned out I was close enough, although at the far edge of my abilities.
Still, I could see that there were two people inside. A lithe figure who seemed to be moving slowly around the house, and another, broader figure.
Hanner and Fang? No, that wasn’t right. Fang was taller than that, and not so broad-shouldered. The woman could have been Hanner, but I wasn’t sure. Technically, she was on the run from no one. This was her house. Why shouldn’t she be here?
I thought about that.
Hanner had made it personal by going after Fang. Yes, she had fulfilled his wish, but had gone behind my back to do so.
Worse, she was turning my friend into a killer.
Yes, Fang was a big boy, capable of making his own decisions. He had chosen this path. He had wanted to be a vampire from the time his damn canine teeth grew in too long, a fluke of nature that had led to a severe disorder, which led, in turn, to him killing his girlfriend. That murder had made national headlines. His ultimate escape from prison was big news, too. That he was never caught seemed mostly forgotten these days.
I had taken something precious from her—and from many vampires, no doubt. A steady supply of blood.
So, she had taken something from me.
I wasn’t a gunslinger, but I knew Hanner and I had a score to settle. It may not go down at high noon in the middle of Main Street, but it was going to go down somewhere, probably at midnight, and probably somewhere a lot more discreet than Main Street.
She knew I had her in my sights. She knew I wanted to take her down, and if I knew Hanner, who was proving to be one hell of a calculating bitch, she was going to come after me first.
I thought about that as I continued drumming my longish, freakish fingernails on the steering wheel.
Finally, I pulled out my cell phone and made a call. Allison picked up on the second ring.
“Hola, sweet cheeks,” she said. She sounded out of breath.
“What are you doing?”
“Lunges,” she said, breathing hard. “I happen to like my own sweet cheeks, thank you very much.”
“Are we done talking about our asses?”
“Fine, Grumpy Cat. Where are you? Wait. You’re outside a house. A big house. On a hill. I don’t know this house.”
“Detective Hanner’s house,” I said.
“Is she back in town?”
“No,” I said.
I gave her a peek into my own thoughts. Okay, more than a peek. I gave her access to everything I’d been dealing with for these past few days. And, unlike audible communication, the telepathic kind went quickly. Within a few minutes, she was fully caught up on my situation.
“I agree with you, Sam,” said Allison. “I think it’s a setup, too.”
“Setting me up for what?” I asked.
Allison glugged some water. I could imagine her throwing back her head and drinking intensely. Allison did everything intensely. But, again, I had to use my imagination. Unlike her, my remote viewing only went so far. Allison could see across miles; hell, continents. Me? I could only see a few hundred yards.
“I don’t know, Sam,” she said when she was done drinking. “But it can’t be good. They’re willing to kill innocent people to set this trap for you.”
“You really think it’s a trap?”
“You’ve been a thorn in Hanner’s side for some time now. You could probably turn Fang against her, too. Fang, if I’m understanding you right, seems sort of indebted to her, but I don’t understand why he seems so indebted.”
I knew what she meant. He seemed unusually loyal.
Allison picked up on my concern. “Can he be compelled by her, Sam?”
“As far as I know, vampires can’t control other vampires. I can’t read another vampire’s mind. Or Kingsley’s mind. Or, I suspect, anyone or anything supernatural.”
“Either way, Sam, she fears you. You’ve proven to be stronger than her, and seem to have more powers.”
“I’ve proven to be a bigger freak, you mean.”
“No, Sam. That’s not what I mean. But think of it this way: she wasn’t able to recruit you, so she’s probably going to do the next best thing.”
I read her mind easily enough. “I thought of that, too,” I said.
“Let me help you, Sam.”
“No.”
“I have powers now. A lot of power. I’m stronger than you know—”
“No,” I said, cutting her off. “Out of the question. I’m dealing with Hanner.”
“I can help you, Sam—”
“No. End of discussion.”
“Why do you get to dictate when the discussion is over?”
“Because I’m the boss. You still work for me, remember?”
It was true. A few months ago, before heading out to the world’s creepiest island, I had deputized Allison, so to speak. She was, officially, a private eye in training.
“Fine,” she said, throwing a small tantrum. “But you can’t just walk into a trap, Sam.”
I looked at the dark house before me. “You think the house is a trap?”
“It can’t be good, Sam. None of this is good.”
“I have to stop her, Allison. And...”
“And bring Fang home?” she said.
“Maybe.”
“And what if he doesn’t want to come back, Sam? What if he’s too far gone?”
I didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, I said goodbye and, with her still protesting in my ear, I hung up.
And stepped out of my minivan.
Chapter Thirty
As I approached Hanner’s home, I cast my thoughts out again.
More reconnaissance. Yes, there was a woman upstairs, in the kitchen, moving slowly. Almost as if she were drugged. There was a broad-shouldered man sitting at the kitchen table, unmoving.