Keeper of the Dawn

It was the perfect opportunity—exactly what he needed.

He went into a deadly dive and landed on top of the massive hawk. He bit hard and deep. The two of them began to tumble together, but he amped himself up in size and pulled up—fangs still buried deep in the shifter’s flesh—just in time to keep them from slamming onto the cement of the parking area.

The falcon alit beside him, transforming back into Alessande in the blink of an eye.

Mark himself reverted to full vampire form, clasping the shapeshifter tightly before withdrawing his fangs. Alessande stepped closer, and together they looked at their attacker as it, too, reverted to human form.

“Brigitte,” Alessande breathed. “Brigitte Hildegard.”

Brigitte began spewing oaths at them as Mark held her to the ground. She clutched the back of her neck, where Mark’s fangs had sunk into her.

“Have you got anything we can use as a bandage?” Mark asked Alessande. “She’s bleeding to death.”

Alessande ripped off the bottom of her shirt, then wrapped the admittedly filthy fabric around the downed shapeshifter’s neck. By the time she finished, Brigitte was no longer speaking; she was unconscious.

“Let’s get her back to Castle House,” Alessande said, looking at him. “I can try to heal her there.”

“She nearly killed us,” Mark muttered, throwing the woman over his shoulder.

“She’s all we’ve got,” Alessande said.

She was right, of course. Brigitte might well be the connection they needed.

Or she might be the head of whatever was going on, though on reflection he doubted that. She was a follower by nature. Somebody else had to be pulling her strings.

Alessande sat in the backseat with Brigitte sprawled half on her lap as Mark drove. The box of ashes lay on the console between the two front seats.

He looked back now and then, making sure that Brigitte wasn’t playing at being unconscious, even though he knew better. He’d taken a lot of blood.

He turned down Laurel Canyon Drive and then started the climb up to the House of the Rising Sun. He used the remote in the car to open the gate as he drew near.

In the yard, Wizard barked insanely. By the time he was parked, people were spilling out of their various houses—everyone in robes or pajamas.

“What the hell?” Brodie asked. “That’s Brigitte Hildegard.”

“Remember the corpse of the old woman? That was Brigitte,” Mark explained dryly. “She had a remarkable transformation into a tiger and then into a hawk the size of Kansas.”

They took Brigitte to Barrie’s house because, as Keeper of the Laurel Canyon shapeshifters, she had the best provisions for the incarceration of a shapeshifter, and if they were able to heal Brigitte, she would be a danger anywhere else.

Rhiannon raced into Pandora’s Box to find the medical equipment to give Brigitte a transfusion. She kept supplies on hand since she never knew when a vampire would come to her needing help.

Barrie’s basement was soundproof and could be completely sealed—ensuring that no shapeshifter could become a worm or a roach and escape through a crack in a door or window. Brigitte was quickly laid out on a couch there and the process of the transfusion begun.

Alessande spent several minutes preparing a potent herbal tea, one with healing properties, so it would be ready to administer when—if—Brigitte regained consciousness. “Is she going to make it?” she asked anxiously on her return.

Rhiannon nodded. “She’s getting some color back now. I think she’ll come to soon.”

As they waited, Mark glanced at his watch. It was morning; the mortuary staff would be there by now and wondering why one of the windows was broken—from the inside. He excused himself and made a call to Lieutenant Edwards, to bring him up-to-date on the night’s events.

“Keep an eye on her—don’t let her escape,” Edwards ordered.

“She’s safe. We’ve got her in Barrie’s basement,” Mark explained.

“All right. Now get those ashes dumped in the Pacific as soon as you possibly can.”

“Yes, sir, will do,” Mark promised and rang off.

When he returned, Alessande was seated near Brigitte, watching over her. He couldn’t read her expression, but he was amazed once again that she always proved to be so much more than he expected. She had known just what to do to give him the chance to take Brigitte down.

“I think she’s going to come out of it, but it may take a little time,” Rhiannon said. “Barrie, you and Mick need to get to work at the paper. We don’t want to draw suspicion by doing anything out of character.”

“We need to scatter Sebastian’s ashes right away,” Mark said.

Declan stepped forward, “Sailor and I can handle that.”

“Works for me,” Sailor said. “I don’t need to be at work until later. And it looks like my acting career is going to get lost in the disaster of yet another movie not being made.” She smiled wryly. “It’s okay. I will make it one day.”

Declan pulled her into his arms. “Yes, you will. But for now, let’s get moving. Rhiannon, we’ll head straight back here when we’re done.”

“I wonder if one of us should stand guard outside,” Alessande said.

Rhiannon smiled at her. “No need. We have Wizard and Jonquil.”

The next thirty minutes seemed longer to Mark than the nearly three hours they’d spent at the mortuary. He and Brodie paced, passing each other in the small space every few seconds.

“Stop!” Rhiannon finally begged them.

Brodie nodded and sat down with his back against the wall. Mark perched at the foot of the couch where Brigitte lay.

Finally Rhiannon removed the IV apparatus. Brigitte had more color, but she still wasn’t stirring.

“You haven’t given up, have you?” Mark asked.

Rhiannon smiled, shaking her head. “She’s gotten all she can take. She’ll come around soon.”

Five minutes later, Brigitte moved at last. Her head twisted, and she groaned. Then her eyes opened and she stared at them with loathing.

“You worthless bastards,” she said, her voice whispery. “You don’t deserve to be what you are. You are less than the weak humans who people this world like ants!”

“Right, whatever,” Mark said, staring at her. “Now talk. Who is the head of the Cult of Tyr trying to raise your great-grandfather?”

She stared at him and blinked hard. Then she smiled. “Stupid. I’m the head of it.”

“No, you’re not,” Alessande said. “You’re a follower. It’s not enough for you that you’re living a great life— you want to be a queen, or a princess. You want Sebastian back because you believe he’ll give you the power you crave. But you’re not the head of anything.”

“Yes, I am. Why won’t you accept that, Elven witch?”

“Because you’re too foolish and ignorant to be the head of anything,” Alessande said calmly. “And I’m so sorry, but you’re not hurting my feelings at all. Some of my dearest friends are witches.”

Brigitte swore at that and tried to turn away from them, but Brodie held her fast.

“You were at the tomb the night Brodie and I came in, weren’t you? You escaped as a bug or a toad, I’ll bet—very fitting, by the way,” Mark said. “And you tried to kill Alessande and me the next night.”

“I will kill you—eventually,” she swore sweetly. “I mean, seriously, just what are you going to do now? Kill me and then tell my brother what you did? He wouldn’t like that.”

“I don’t think he’d like what you did tonight, either, Brigitte,” Brodie said. “I think Alan is very fond of his lifestyle. He doesn’t want anyone getting in the way of that or taking power away from him—not even you.”

“He won’t let you hurt his sister,” Brigitte insisted.

“We don’t intend to hurt you. But we will make you talk,” Alessande said, leaning closer to the prisoner. Mark had never seen her look more merciless and terrifying—not even as an avenging peregrine falcon. “We want to know where to find Regina Johnson.”

But Brigitte seemed serene. “You are all so foolish. It’s begun, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. It would have been nice if things had worked out at the tomb that night. But that wasn’t the end. All your friends managed to do was delay us. Sebastian will return. You’ve failed.”