LITMIR.BIZ

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“I saw you lose the shape only three or four times.”

      “I counted six,” he said. “It’s a miracle she didn’t notice.”

      “She’s young. The young are not observant.”

      “We’re all young to you, Alessande.” Declan knew her to be nearly a hundred, although she looked thirty in human years. The Elven didn’t begin to show their age until well into their second century. “But it may have been the Scarlet Pathogen. Her eyes looked bloody scary.” More scary than he’d let on to Sailor. She’d been stoic about it, which showed some character, but of course, she hadn’t been looking into her own eyes for the past half hour. And he hadn’t stopped looking at them. They were mesmerizing, whatever their color, and he wondered why he’d never noticed that before in their acquaintance. “What’s the disease doing to her on the inside, that’s what I’d like to know.”

      “That’s what we’d all like to know.”

      Declan followed Alessande into the kitchen. “We shouldn’t have let her walk out of here.”

      She looked at him. “What should we have done, kidnap her? She’s fit, she’s armed and she’ll be home in minutes—the Gryffald estate is a mile down the road. The síúlacht she drank will give her speed and strength enough to take on anything. It will last an hour, two at the most.”

      “And then?”

      “It will wear off and she’ll drop. She’ll sleep the sleep of the dead for a good twelve hours or more, but she’ll be in her own home and safe enough. I’ve been to her house, years ago at a dinner party her father gave. There were layers upon layers of protective spells cast.” Alessande handed him a mug of coffee, although he hadn’t asked for any.

      “Hope they’ve kept it up. Spells fade.” He sipped his coffee. “We should’ve gotten a blood sample from her, have Krabill take a look at it.”

      “The síúlacht will mask the effects of the pathogen. Better to wait until it’s worn off.”

      “Wait twelve hours? I don’t have that much patience.”

      Alessande shrugged. “The síúlacht will be out of her system long before that. Krabill works nights, doesn’t she?”

      “You’re suggesting I rouse the girl from her dead sleep to take her to Krabill’s office?”

      “You’ve roused me from a dead sleep once or twice, if memory serves.”

      He smiled briefly. “She won’t like it as much as you did.”

      “Can Krabill develop an antidote, do you think?”

      Declan turned his attention to the twilight sky. “Maybe, but that’s not the point. Those four women didn’t just catch this disease. It’s my guess they were deliberately infected.”

      “Why do you say that? Because this one was attacked?”

      “And because Charlotte was found on the beach at Point Dume.”

      “Where did you hear that?”

      “I watched the coroner take her body away.”

      Alessande’s eyes grew wide. “My God, what was she doing there?” Most Elven had a fear of water that was both logical—being near it physically weakened them—and deeply emotional. “She’d never have gone there voluntarily.”

      Declan shook his head. “Charlotte wouldn’t go near a swimming pool, let alone an ocean. Someone forced her there,” he said, “or dumped her there. She was murdered, whatever story they’re giving out. The more we learn about this pathogen, the more we’ll know about the killer who used it. And I want that killer.”

      “As murder weapons go, it’s not very effective,” she said. “It didn’t kill Sailor. Besides, that winged creature didn’t need a pathogen. If it wanted her dead, those talons alone could’ve opened an artery, and even I couldn’t have saved her.”

      “All right, I don’t pretend to have any of the answers now. But I’ll get them, I promise you.”

      She looked at him speculatively. “Why did you not want her to see you? Why did you shift?”

      Declan met her look. “Sailor Gryffald and I don’t get along. I wanted to see what she’s like when she’s not on the defensive.”

      “And why don’t you get along?”

      He thought back to a recent encounter at his nightclub. “I expect I may have offended her at some point.”

      “I expect you did.”

      Declan laughed. “What does that mean?”

      “You’re a great friend to your friends and a cold bastard to those beneath your notice.”

      “That’s not true.”

      “It certainly is.”

      “Well, she’s never been beneath my notice. She’s a Gryffald.” The Gryffald family had been players in the Los Angeles Councils long before “player” was part of the cultural lexicon. Of course, the current Gryffalds were all young, three neophytes in a city where experience was power. Sailor’s cousins had proved more capable than he’d expected … but this one?

      “She has the pedigree,” Alessande said, reading his thoughts in the disconcerting way the Elven had. “Give her a chance.”

      “She’s an actress, for God’s sake. Hardly training for a crisis like this.” He turned away from her and looked out the kitchen window, watching the color drain out of the sky.

      Alessande moved next to him. “Well, we all have an uphill battle, haven’t we? The girl was attacked by something Other, and that is bad news for our world. Once it becomes known, I fear for what my species may do to yours, Declan, and to the vampires, as well. None of you Keepers will have it easy if it comes to war.”

      “I won’t let it come to war, Alessande.”

      “You may not be able to stop it.”

      “Watch me.” He drained the coffee in his cup and set it down. “Fate put that girl in your path. And you put her in mine. Now I’m calling Kimberly Krabill, and we’re going to find out what this bloody pathogen is and how it works, and how the killer acquired it.”

      “If Sailor doesn’t like you, how do you propose getting her to your Dr. Krabill?”

      “Charm.” He smiled. “If she’s coming down from síúlacht, she’ll be too weak to resist.”

      Alessande looked into his eyes. “Tread carefully. I saw a portent tonight. When she was unconscious.” She hesitated, then said, “For love of that woman, someone will die. And love may bring death to her, as well.”

      “My heart isn’t in danger.”

      She laughed softly. “You don’t know yourself at all, do you? But be warned, Declan. I don’t think Sailor Gryffald is long for this world.”

      The sky was dark now, night fully arrived. Declan breathed in the canyon air, watched the lights of distant houses go on one by one. Like fireflies, he thought, and then tried to remember when he’d last seen a firefly. They weren’t native to California any more than he was.

      It had been instructive, meeting Sailor as a stranger, unencumbered by the undercurrent of hostility that characterized their encounters. More than instructive. With no chip on her shoulder, he found her exceedingly attractive. He wondered if Alessande had been right, that he was a cold bastard. Maybe. The truth was, he found actors to be self-absorbed and vain, with few exceptions. It was hardly their fault. The business was so harsh that survival required a high opinion of one’s own talent and specialness. Sailor was showing more substance than he’d expected, but she was hardly ready to assume the position of Canyon Keeper. His plan was to get her to Krabill and let the doctor oversee

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