Keeper of the Dawn

“Have to admit—I loved it, too,” Rhiannon said.

“We’re digressing here,” Brodie cut in. “What about the movie, Mark?”

“It was a critical hit, and the general consensus is that everyone involved will be up for all kinds of honors come awards season, but it was expensive to make and Blue Dove is still struggling to get out of the red. It’s a situation that should be rectified once DVD sales, cable rights and all the rest are in, but in the meantime, the studio was very wary of making another investment that big.”

“Okay, but isn’t that why one of Alan Hildegard’s companies-within-his-company got involved?” Alessande asked.

“Yes, but it turns out there’s another company providing some of the financing, too. Gnome Entertainment,” Mark said.

“Gnome Entertainment? So should we be talking to the gnomes?” Alessande asked.

“Too obvious, don’t you think?” Rhiannon said.

“So what did the forensic accountants discover about this Gnome Entertainment?” Brodie asked.

“They’re on it—they’ll let us know as soon as they find out anything,” Mark said. “Meantime, I’m going back to see Father Lars Gunderson in the morning. We need to hold this wedding as quickly as possible, and with St. Ann’s involvement in our dreams as well as Brigitte’s mystery priest—and I fervently hope Father Lars is not our man—it’s crucial that we have the ceremony there.”

“Mark, you just can’t plan a wedding that quickly,” Barrie said. “I mean, not if you want people to come. And if you expect to the get the church and the reception venue and—” She got a look of dawning understanding and broke off. “Mick and I will make sure that it gets into the paper as soon as you have Father Gunderson on board.”

“In that case, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem with our guest list. I think they’ll all arrive right on time,” Mark said.

“You guys are crazy,” Rhiannon said.

Alessande smiled at her. “We know.”

* * *

That night, when they went upstairs to bed, Alessande threw herself into Mark’s arms. “I love you,” she said in a rush. “How is that possible? How did it happen so quickly? How can I be so sure that I never want to live without you again?”

“The same way I can,” he assured her. “I just know.” He held her face tenderly between his hands and kissed her lips.

“You’re ridiculously headstrong, you know,” he told her a few minutes later, when he finally stopped to breathe.

“You like to take charge.”

“You take chances.”

“You move in like a bull in a china shop.”

“But those eyes of yours...”

“Those eyes of yours...”

“The feel of your skin...”

They dissolved into a tangle of clothing, kissing and touching, and finally making love. It was late, very late, when Alessande lay incredibly content at his side, ready to sleep. It seemed ridiculous to be this happy when a young woman was still threatened with a cruel and bloody death. But she felt renewed hope that they were on the verge of solving this case at last and finding Regina Johnson safe and alive.

It was amazing to think that, in searching for Regina, she had found someone she needed as much as she needed air to breathe—and that she could and would wake up beside him every morning of her life to come.

But when she drifted to sleep, the dream of her wedding came again.

There was the church.

The church they had seen that very day.

And the music playing.

Music she loved and would have chosen....

She saw the white of her gown, and she saw the smiling faces of her friends.

And then she felt the shadows encroach as she walked down the red runner and it slowly became a sea of blood.

She woke up, shaking. She tried not to move, so as not to wake Mark.

But he was already awake. He was standing at the window, looking over at Pandora’s Box.

“Mark?” she asked, rising and slipping over to stand by him.

“They seem so real, so honest, but are they?” he asked, and she knew he was referring to Alan Hildegard and his cousin Charlaine.

“Those tears Brigitte cried today seemed real,” she told him as she wrapped her arms around his naked waist and laid her cheek against the breadth of his back.

“What are we missing?” he asked softly. “Because we are missing something, something we’re not seeing.”

“I don’t know, but I think we will see it soon.”

He turned, drawing her to face him, tilted her chin up and said, “This may be crazy, getting married so quickly, but...I think it’s what we have to do. And, I swear, Alessande, I won’t stop until we find Regina Johnson.”

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I believe in you,” she said, “with all my heart. I believe in you, and I love you.”

He kissed her again. “We’ve got to get some sleep. Before I go see Father Gunderson, Brodie and I are going to tear apart the old Hildegard Studio again. See what we can find.”

“Just for safety’s sake, I’ll get Sailor and Declan to go with me to the church, because I’d like to speak with Father Gunderson, too. I’ll call him and tell him what we want to do, then you can meet us there.”

“We should get an early start, so we really need to get to sleep.”

But it was some time before they actually slept again. As Alessande drifted off, she realized that she hadn’t said anything to Mark about having the dream again.

She hoped it wasn’t a bad omen.

* * *

“This seems to get more and more confusing as we go along,” Brodie said, sinking down into the couch where they’d found the screenplay for Death in the Bowery.

“I know. Is it really over money—or ritual murder?” Mark said.

Brodie shook his head. “Did they discover that the drug could render victims pliable and then that it could make big money on the street? Or vice versa?”

“I don’t know. I do know that we’ve torn this place apart and there’s no sign that anyone is being held here.” Mark’s phone dinged to indicate an incoming text, and he looked down at the screen. “They still haven’t figured out who owns Gnome Entertainment. All they know so far is that it’s headquartered in the Cayman Islands.” He pocketed the phone. “Well, let’s get over to the church. We have to set things up for the wedding.”

“Crazy,” Brodie said for the thousandth time. He glanced at his own phone as it beeped.

“Edwards?” Mark asked.

“No, Rhiannon. With good news.”

“What’s that?”

“Merlin reported that Alan admitted to Charlaine that he was afraid if someone did resurrect Sebastian, he’d be in for a torturous death. Makes him sound as innocent as he claimed to be.”

“Here’s hoping,” Mark said. “Did she say anything about Brigitte?”

“Just that she’s still safely locked in the basement.”

“Good,” Mark said, then paused as they started to head out. “Hang on, I want to recheck the soundstage with the cemetery scene.”

“With the decaying corpses coming out of their graves?”