After the call, Jagger turned and headed toward the sisters' shop, but it was closed. He wasn't thrilled about heading to the house to talk to Caitlin and Shauna, but he had no choice. He could still see the beautiful blonde woman on the autopsy table, and he was growing edgier by the minute, even as he tried to tell himself that Fiona was a Keeper--that she had the power to keep herself safe.
The power to change.
The house was just down the street from the shop, but even as he started in that direction, his phone rang.
He was expecting Tony again.
But his hello was greeted with a second's silence.
"Hello?" he said again impatiently, and checked the caller ID.
The number was listed as "Unknown."
"Who is this?" he demanded.
"Good evening. Such impatience, Detective." The voice was hoarse and raspy, making it impossible for him to tell whether his caller was male or female. Someone was playing him.
And doing it well.
"May I help you?" he demanded.
"I was just wondering if you had noticed...how blonde and beautiful they are. I read the papers, and they're all blonde and beautiful."
"We're aware of that fact," he said, turning back toward Bourbon Street, searching for another officer--or anyone--whose phone he could nab and call in to the station to get a trace put on his phone.
But the caller was smart and knew what he was doing.
"Don't bother trying to trace this call, by the way. We won't be talking long enough. Just remember...blonde, beautiful--and dead. Just like Miss Fiona MacDonald may be at this very moment. Just as she soon will be, I promise."
Jagger fought desperately to keep from throwing the phone away in denial, to keep from screaming at the speaker.
He didn't know if he had a quack on the phone--or the killer. If it was the killer, then he was talking either to a vampire or a shapeshifter. But Fiona was a Keeper. She had power...if she got the chance to use it.
If she didn't...
She was as vulnerable as any other beautiful young woman.
And if she trusted the killer, she wouldn't think to use her power until it was too late.
"Do you know something about the killings?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.
He'd reached Bourbon Street and searched the crowd, knowing that a mounted patrolman should be within quick reach. All he needed was time, a minute, seconds...
Sean O'Casey, uniformed and on foot, was standing on the corner across the street. Jagger waved him over, and Sean instantly sprinted across the street.
The caller was chuckling softly.
Jagger covered the mouthpiece of his cell and silently mouthed the words, "Get a trace on my phone." O'Casey nodded.
"Look, we've asked the public for help on these killings," Jagger said conversationally. "If you're willing to help us, if you know something, we'll be grateful for anything you can give us."
From the corner of his eye, Jagger could see that Sean was already on his phone, calling the station, asking them for a satellite trace.
"Oh, Detective, please. I can almost hear her screaming now." Then the chuckling started again, and before Jagger could respond, the phone went dead.
Chapter 13
The old rusty iron gates were impossible to open, no matter how slowly and stealthily, without squealing.
The noise was like nails--talons!--against a black board.Fiona held her position, praying she was hidden in the darkness, planning her next move and praying it would work.
She was certain the killer had found her, had known exactly where she would be and then had driven her into this dead end.
Because the killer was Billy?
She swallowed hard, waiting.
She was startled to hear shouting from out near the street. Someone calling her name.
The voice was far away, but thunderous.
The squeaking of the gate stopped.
"Fiona?" A different voice, closer, the tone quizzical. She must have made a noise, because she heard the gate open noisily, and then the door swung wide.
"Fiona?"
It was Billy.
He homed in on her position, hidden in the vault, and came closer.
She was ready. She tossed the holy water into his face....
"What the hell did you do that for?" Billy demanded, wiping his face and obviously completely puzzled. "It's me--Billy. Hey, I just heard Jagger out there. What's going on?"
She stared at him from her hiding place, still hidden in darkness, incredulous that he hadn't screamed in pain, hadn't blistered hideously or turned to ash.
"Billy, did you see anyone out there?" she asked.
"No--I didn't even know you were in here--until I heard the gate creaking a minute ago. I was over by the Grigsby mausoleum, waiting for you."
"Fiona!"
Jagger's voice was closer, and he sounded frantic.
"We're in here, Jagger!" Billy called, stepping out of the tomb.
The next thing Fiona knew, Jagger, as impressive as any action hero in the movies, was suddenly slamming open the door to the tomb. "Fiona!"
"I'm here. I'm fine."
Jagger turned to Billy, who lifted his arms in confusion. "What the hell is going on?"
Jagger turned to Fiona, puzzled himself. "What are you doing here? In that vault?"
Before she could reply, Jagger reached for her. She was glad that her remaining vials of holy water were shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. He took her arms, and she slid to the floor, a plume of ash and dust coming with her.
He stared at her, searching her eyes, then he drew her close against him, shaking for a moment.
Then, suddenly angry, he pushed her away. "What were you doing in there?" he demanded.
"I was meeting Billy here," she murmured.
"Why were you meeting him? And in a tomb?"
"Just in the cemetery."
"And what are you doing here?"
He was silent for a long moment.
"Jagger?"
"I asked you a question you've yet to answer," he said firmly.
"I was meeting Billy because..."
Billy suddenly gasped. "You asked me to come here because you didn't believe me! You thought--oh my God! You really thought I killed those girls. That I wanted Abigail so badly that I would not only kill her and make her a vampire so she could be with me for all eternity, but I'd kill two other women just to make it look like some demented serial killer was on the loose! And then...then you threw holy water on me."
"You threw holy water on him?" Jagger asked.
"Yes," she admitted. "But it didn't do anything." She smoothed back her hair, trying for dignity. It was difficult when she was covered in the ash of a long dead Grigsby. "Don't you see? If it didn't burn him, he's not evil. He's not the killer. I don't know how I knew it would work that way, but I did."
"Fiona, do you know what kind of danger you could have been getting into?" Jagger demanded.
"I know how to take care of myself," she said. "I'm a Keeper, remember?"
"You're also human," Jagger reminded her.
She inhaled. "It made sense. Billy was a suspect. Now he's cleared."
Billy stared at her incredulously. "I can't believe you really thought I could be a murderer."
"You are a vampire," Fiona reminded him.
"I'm a civilized vampire," Billy said. "I'm--I'm a student. I'm American as apple pie."
"Billy, I'm sorry, but I had to know. It's--it's my job. I'm the Keeper," Fiona said.
"You may be the Keeper," Jagger said softly, "but you're in danger.
"Someone--and I think it was the killer--called me to make sure I know he intends to kill you."
"What?" Fiona and Billy asked in unison.
"Billy, give me your cell phone," Jagger said.
"Hey! It wasn't me. I'm a good guy, remember? She just proved it," Billy said.
"Billy, your phone," Jagger said.
Billy shook his head, reached into his pocket and produced his phone. Jagger took it and checked the call history.
"That the only phone you're carrying?" he demanded.
"Search me," Billy said, lifting his arms, then looked indignant when Jagger took him up on the offer and patted him down.
"I didn't call you," Billy said.
"All right. And neither of you saw anyone else in the cemetery?" Jagger demanded.
"No," Billy said.
"Someone else was here," Fiona admitted.
"What? And when were you going to tell me this? Who was it?" Jagger demanded.
"I don't know--I heard...noises, so I ran in here. And then I heard the gate creaking, but then you and Billy showed up, and whoever it was ran away," she said.
"It was the killer," Jagger said.
"How can you know that?" Fiona asked him, feeling even more uneasy than she had before, because instinct told her he was right.
The killer had been close. But she hadn't been helpless; she had been ready to fight. Even if the holy water had only been enough to wound but not kill, it would have bought her the time to turn, and that would have given her the strength to fight.
She shuddered, spooked by the knowledge that she was a target. She was the vampires' Keeper, and yet a creature was out there, ready, willing--no, eager--to kill her.
"I found Sean O'Casey on Bourbon Street, and we put a satellite trace on my phone. The killer hung up before we could pinpoint his location, but we were able to target this part of town, and given this case, I was sure he had to be in the cemetery." He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Look, you've got to get out of here. Now. I don't want to have to explain your presence to the police. I'll just say it was a lead that didn't pan out, that if he was here, he got away. Fiona, please, go home and stay there. Billy, stay with her."
Fiona steeled herself mentally and drew herself up with all the dignity she could muster. "I am the Keeper," she reminded him. "This is my business as much as it's yours."
