Keeper of the Dawn

moneyman. I invest my own funds in prime projects and raise more as needed—and I confess I like wielding power. I love having the right and the ability to fire idiots at will.” He glanced at Brodie and half smiled, tilting his head at a curious angle. “That’s where I’ve seen you before—you were an actor! I saw you on stage in—”

Brodie shook his head firmly. “I was undercover at the time. I’m not an actor. I’m a cop. I like being a cop. I’m good at it. It’s what I was born to be.”

“Then you understand how I feel,” Hildegard said. “When you’re born a Hildegard, everyone thinks you have to be a magician. Well, I’m not. So, back to the vault. Just why were you there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“The department received an anonymous tip,” Mark said, “and we went in to investigate. We discovered a young woman, who we later found out had been kidnapped, being held captive and apparently unconscious on top of your great-grandfather’s sarcophagus. We believe that the head priest or whatever he calls himself was going to sacrifice her in the mistaken belief that her death could bring Sebastian back to life.”

“Thank God you saved her,” Hildegard said.

“Mr. Hildegard,” Brodie said, leaning forward. “Two women mysteriously disappeared in what we believe was the vicinity of your old family studio and later showed up dead. Another woman is missing in similar circumstances. If you can think of anyone who might believe they can bring your great-grandfather back to life or is simply fixated on him in some way, we’re on a desperate hunt to find the missing girl before she, too, winds up dead.”

Hildegard looked confused. “This is L.A. County. It’s sad, but women come here all the time, drawn by the desire for fame. And even sadder, some of them die. We do have crime—despite your best efforts.”

As he spoke, a woman suddenly came sweeping into the room. She was small, perhaps five-two or five- three, slim, well built and very pretty, with huge blue eyes and golden-blond hair worn to her shoulders.

“Alan! Jimmy told me that the police were here.” She paused, looking at Brodie and Mark, who both rose.

“My sister, Brigitte,” Alan Hildegard said. “Brigitte, these are Detectives Mark Valiente and Brodie McKay.”

Brodie and Mark both murmured polite greetings.

She walked over and shook hands with a surprisingly strong grip for someone so small. “Are you here about that awful business in the cemetery?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mark said.

“I do hope you catch and prosecute those—defilers to the full extent of the law,” she said.

“The detectives believe we have a bigger problem, my dear,” Alan Hildegard said. “Two women have died —and another is missing. Their fates seem to have something to do with the fool who’s creating a religion around Great-Grandfather.”

Brigitte looked at Mark and Brodie in horror. “Someone is killing people over Sebastian? How horrible—and ridiculous. But...what makes you think there’s a link to Sebastian?”

Mark and Brodie didn’t look at one another; they both knew they had no intention of explaining anything about Alessande’s involvement.

“I’m afraid we can’t go into the details of an ongoing investigation,” Mark said.

“I’m sure you understand,” Brodie added.

“So why on earth do you think we can help?” Brigitte asked.

“Perhaps someone has been hounding your family—or maybe bothering you for details about Sebastian that only the family might know,” Mark said.

Just then Jimmy came into the room carrying a silver tray. “Coffee, sir,” he told Alan.

He set the tray on the table before the fire, turned and left.

“Sit down, please, sit down—Jimmy makes excellent coffee,” Brigitte said, her tone distracted. She herself perched on a chair by the coffee service, as if aware, in a corner of her mind, that no one would sit until she did.

“Sugar, cream?” she asked, filling two cups.

They both demurred.

“Then it’s true,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes. “Cops drink their coffee black.”

“Not all of them,” Mark assured her.

She looked over at her brother and then at the two detectives. “My cousin Charlaine is our family historian, and she lives here, but she’s not in right now.”

Mark produced a card from his pocket and handed it to Brigitte. “Would you ask your cousin to call us when she can, please?”

“Of course. I’m sorry—but I knew nothing about any of this.”

“I hate to say it, but bad news is so common these days—I didn’t even realize that two young women had recently been found dead,” Alan Hildegard said. “But if you need our help in any way, you only need to ask.”

They were being dismissed, Mark realized. Alan Hildegard had spoken, and that was the end of things.

Mark rose again. “Thanks for the coffee, and for your time.”

“Yes, thank you,” Brodie said.

The two of them left and were soon back in the car. When they drove toward the gate to leave, it opened automatically. Either that, or someone was watching and was anxious to see them leave.

“What do you think?” Brodie asked.

“I think they’re shapeshifters,” Mark said.

Brodie grinned. “Don’t go doing Other profiling, now.”

Mark grinned at that. “No, I mean that, as shapeshifters, they can give pretty much any impression they choose.”

“Alan seemed sincerely upset by the deaths and the connection to the family.”

“As did his sister.”

“Let’s hope the cousin contacts us soon,” Brodie said. “For now, I don’t know about you, but I have to get some sleep.”

Mark glanced at him. “I’d like to go back to the House of the Rising Sun with you. I want to hear more about Alessande being a Keeper now.”

“Sure. You can have the car if you want to go home afterward—or you can stay over at Pandora’s Box. Rhiannon has a nice guest bedroom.”

“Maybe I will crash there.”

* * *

Brodie had a remote in his car and opened the large gate at the Keepers’ estate. Wizard, Rhiannon’s massive wolfhound mix, followed as they headed up the drive and parked.

The minute they stepped out of the car, Wizard barked happily, seeing friends. “Don’t jump!” Brodie said.

But Wizard was already up, his giant paws on Brodie’s shoulders.

“We’re not doing so well with the dog training,” Brodie said.

Mark grinned. “He’s a good dog.”

As if aware of the compliment, Wizard came running over to greet him.

Mark was prepared for the dog’s embrace and the sloppy kiss on the cheek he received.

“Sorry—he’s kind of slobbery,” Brody said.

“He’s fine,” Mark said, wiping his face.

Brodie headed toward Castle House, where the others were still gathered. Mark started to follow him but was stopped by a loud “Psst!”

He paused, looking around. There was no one in sight.

He heard a self-satisfied giggle. Frowning, he spun around. He still didn’t see anyone.

Then a mourning dove came sweeping out of the nearest tree to land on the sidewalk before him.

The bird suddenly morphed right in front of him.

And there was Alessande, looking very proud of herself, tossing back a strand of white-blond hair and staring at him with defiance.

“I can’t believe I never knew about this! Shifting is amazing!” she said. “I’m well on the road to joining the