My heart continued pounding, and knowing that Fang still felt something for me—anything for me—was a gift I wasn’t entirely prepared for. I would have felt excitement—and hope—if not for the fact that he and the others had my sister.
“They need you dead, Sam, so that they can properly cultivate him for greater things.”
“I have to leave,” I said, grabbing my keys and opening the front door.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Sam, you need me.”
“No, I don’t—”
I hadn’t quite finished my sentence when the front door suddenly slammed shut again. I jumped, startled. I was about to ask what the holy hell had happened when I turned and saw Allison holding out her right hand, her eyelids half closed.
“Jesus. Was that you?” I asked.
“Like I told you, Sam, my powers are growing.” She lowered her hand and opened her eyes.
“Well, it’s a nice trick, dear,” I said, opening the door again, “but I’m still not bringing—”
She turned, raising her hand. The comfy overstuffed chair and a half, where I had sat many times before, lifted off the floor and hurled through the apartment. Pillows and Allison’s purse, which had all been on the chair, went flying in different directions. Unfortunately, the chair was heading for the sliding glass door, which led to her patio and a nice third-story view of the other Beverly Hills apartments. I braced for the coming crash when the chair—sweet Jesus—stopped in mid-air. Stopped just before the glass door. The chair rotated slowly...and settled carefully onto the floor.
“Holy hell,” I said.
“Now, can I come with you, Sam?” she asked, opening her eyes and lowering her arm.
“Sweet mama,” I said.
“I second that,” said a deep voice behind me. A voice I recognized.
I turned to find Kingsley standing in the doorway, filling it completely, wearing jeans and a black tee shirt and hair down to his shoulders. Good cologne wafted from him as if the stuff flowed from his veins.
Allison said, “Oh, did I forget to mention that I called Kingsley, too?”
Chapter Thirty-seven
We were in my minivan.
It wasn’t exactly the Batmobile, or something cooked up by Iron Man’s Richard Stark. It was just an older minivan—the same minivan I used to pick my kids up from school, to buy groceries and to run errands. Just last week, I’d backed into a pole at my kids’ school, putting a good-sized dent in the bumper that was going to cost me more money to fix than I wanted to spend.
And here we were, charging through the night. Three freaks to battle a cavern full of freaks.
Yeah, my life is weird.
“You shouldn’t have called him,” I said to Allison for the tenth time.
“Hey,” said Kingsley, “you say that enough times and I might start getting offended.”
“Well, she shouldn’t have called you.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that. Except I’m not going to let you walk alone into a vampire nest.”
“Is that a politically correct thing to say?” asked Allison from the backseat.
“You keep quiet,” I said to her, aiming the minivan down Sunset Boulevard. I kept the car at well over the speed limit, not giving a damn about a ticket. Hell, I would compel the fucking cop to forget what he saw and to crave a pink donut instead.
And, yes, I thought of Sherbet, and, yes, I wished he was here, too. Same with my other detective friends: Knighthorse, Spinoza and Aaron King, who may or may not be Elvis.
No, I thought, shaking my head again. I can’t put them—or anyone—in jeopardy.
“You also can’t do this alone,” said Allison, reading my mind.
“Huh?” said Kingsley. “Oh, I see. You two are doing your mind-reading thing.”
I was fairly certain the minivan was listing to his side. I swear to God, Kingsley was bigger than the last time I’d seen him. Kingsley would, in fact, keep growing, minutely, with each transformation.
So weird, I thought.
Earlier, I’d made a number of my own calls. First up, I had called Mary Lou’s husband. I had told him I was with Mary Lou and something important had come up that we couldn’t talk about. I suggested very strongly that he should stay indoors and make dinner there. He agreed. A little too quickly.
Yes, I had used some of my own compulsion on him. No, I didn’t have any clue that it would actually go through the call. But it had.
Next, I called both Anthony and Tammy in turn. Yes, they each had their own cell phones. And, yes, they each cost me an arm and a leg. But, dammit, I loved knowing I could get a hold of my kids at any time of the day. And, yes, they had strict orders to keep their cell phones with them at all times—and on. Anyway, I told them each to watch out for each other. Tammy, my telepathic daughter—yes, a family of freaks—picked up a stray thought of mine that her aunt was in trouble. I told her to keep that information to herself and that I was doing all I could to help her aunt.
Finally, as I had been heading out to Allison’s, I called Sherbet—and kept my mind closed in the process. I hadn’t wanted him to know where we were, or what we were up to. But I had asked him to keep an eye on my sister’s house. He had told me he would do it himself, with one of his officers. He had asked if everything was okay. I had told him no, everything was not okay. He said he wanted to help, and I had told him no. He didn’t like it and insisted and I told him no again. He still didn’t like it, but finally gave in, and told me to stay safe. I told him I would do my best, and, before we hung up, I told him to send a car out to Hanner’s. He asked why and I told him he wouldn’t believe me if I told him. He said try him, so I do, telling him about the newlyweds and the bleeder. Sherbet then said that I was right, he didn’t believe me, but he would send someone out right away.
As I drove, Allison caught Kingsley up on the layout of the caverns, as she had seen them remotely.
Kingsley shook his shaggy, blockish head. “Your powers have grown considerably since the last time I saw you.”
Which had, of course, been at Skull Island months, ago. Back then, Allison was just coming into her own, just exploring her increased powers.
“You could say I’ve had an epiphany,” she said from the backseat, sticking her head between us.
“What kind of epiphany?” he asked.
“I’m a witch.”
Kingsley glanced down at her, somehow managing to see through all his thick hair. “Witches scare the shit out of me.”