The Keepers
Page 37

Fiona felt as if she had been stabbed through the heart with an icicle.
Caitlin.
Shauna.
Oh, God.
Who did he have?
How could he possibly have gotten to either one of them?
Maybe he didn't have one of her sisters. Maybe it was a bluff.
How could she take that chance?
She looked at the church. David might well be there.
Jagger, too. So close, and yet...
"Do you understand?"
"Where am I going?"
"I'll call you when you're closer."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to answer my phone."
"I can see you. I will see you all the way there. It will ring once, stop, and then start to ring again. Then, only then, do you answer your phone."
"If you're following me, you can't be holding one of my sisters hostage," she said.
The laughter sounded again.
"Whatever made you think I was working alone?"
Fiona wasn't answering her phone again, but today Jagger had no intention of wasting any time. A storm was rolling in, bringing early winter darkness and rain. He wanted to be back with her before the darkness came.
He called the shop. "This is Jagger. Where is Fiona?" he asked without even trying to figure out which sister he was talking to.
"We left her sleeping at home."
"She's not answering her phone," Jagger said.
"Oh, Lord, I'll have to close up shop."
"I'm sorry," he said flatly, "but is this Shauna or Caitlin?"
"Shauna. Caitlin went out. August Gaudin called, something about a meeting with the tourism board. Said he was looking for Fiona, too, and Caitlin said she'd go talk to him. Personally I think it was my place to go. I'm the Keeper for the werewolves, after all."
"You're alone at the shop, and Caitlin is out?" he asked.
He wasn't sure why that worried him so much. He trusted August Gaudin. Or did he? Did he trust anyone anymore?
"You stay where you are--and while you're at it, stay up front, where people can see you. I'm not far, just at the station, and I'm on my way. I'll go to the house with you," Jagger said.
"All right. But...Fiona's probably just sleeping and didn't hear the phone. What do you think is the matter?"
"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Just wait for me."
"I'll be here, Jagger," Shauna said. "For whatever it's worth, I believe in you. I know you're doing your best."
"Thanks," he said, and hung up.
He hit the street and started walking, but by the time he hit Royal Street, he was running.
It was a long walk. Visitors to New Orleans had a tendency to stay in the French Quarter, where they could walk to anything. If they were headed to the Garden District or Uptown, they were usually bright enough to drive, grab a streetcar or take a taxi, options that were forbidden to her.
Her phone rang half a dozen times.
She didn't touch it.
He had said, Whatever made you think I was working alone?
He could have a partner. And his partner could have one of her sisters while he was watching her.
Or he could be lying.
She didn't know which.
She looked up at the sky. Clouds were roiling above her, and it was growing darker by the minute. A breeze had picked up, and as she walked, the trees were being stripped of leaves. In the wind, they seemed to reach down for her as if they had boney, skeletal arms and fingers. The sound of the rustling leaves was like the laughter of the man who had called her.
Darkness was coming.
The killer wanted darkness. The false darkness of a storm, fading to the ebony blackness of a moonless night.
Her fingers twitched on her phone.
He might be bluffing.
But he might not be.
Caitlin...Shauna...
She couldn't take a chance.
As she got closer and closer to the French Quarter, she felt the shadows darkening around her and began to imagine she heard the whoosh of wings. Giant wings.
Shadow wings.
Following her.
She had to come up with a plan.
And she had to save her sister.
Those two thoughts kept her moving.
And all the while, the shadows were darkening.
Shauna was standing right inside the doorway of the shop, waiting for him. She was ready with a sign for the door--Must close early--our deepest apologies. Please come back.
He nodded to her as she locked up and they started down the street.
"Thanks for coming with me," he said.
She glanced at him sidewise. "Are you kidding? I'm losing my mind. Neither one of them is answering her cell phone!"
"Caitlin isn't answering, either?"
"No," Shauna said. Her face was white with worry.
He pulled out his cell phone and called August Gaudin. A secretary answered.
"May I speak with August, please. This is Jagger DeFarge."
"Oh, Detective. I'm so sorry. He left--he said something about lunch, and then he had a meeting to attend."
"This is his cell phone, isn't it?" Jagger asked, perplexed.
"Yes, yes--he's a brilliant man, but forgetful. He left it on his desk. I just heard it ringing because I was dropping off some papers that needed to be signed," the secretary said.
"I see. Well, if he comes in, please ask him to call me," Jagger said.
Shauna looked worried. "He's not there?"
"It's all right. We'll get to the house, see if we can find out where Fiona went and then I'll get my men looking for both of them," he promised her.
She stared at him with huge eyes. "But they won't know what they're looking for."
"Shauna, there are...others--on the force. We'll find them."
They reached the house. As soon as they went in and closed the door, they found the note Fiona had left.
Jagger swore softly.
As he did, his phone rang.
He answered it crisply, praying it was Fiona.
It was Sean O'Casey, and his voice was excited.
"I've been going through the FBI database, and I got a hit, Jagger. I just got a hit."
"On what? The last victim?"
"No, the sketch of the man at the strip club. The guy no one has been able to find. And you're never going to believe who he is."
The rain was just waiting to fall.
The clouds were growing oppressive, and Fiona knew it would be sweltering if not for the strange breeze blowing through the trees.
Street lamps, whose sensors told them to turn on when darkness fell, began to light up, but their illumination seemed oddly weak, creating only small pools of brightness against the shadows.
She could change, she reminded herself.
And she was still armed. She felt surreptitiously for the holy water in her pocket.
It didn't matter if a creature was Jewish, Hindu, Christian or worshipped aliens, any touch of the one true goodness that ruled all religions would work against any personification of evil.
Or so she believed...
She had to trust in that belief. Power lay in belief, and most of all, she knew, she had to believe in herself.
Leaves rustled.
And the growing darkness seemed to become one massive shadow, hovering over her.
Her phone rang once. Stopped. And rang again.
She answered.
"Know where you're going yet?"
"No."
"Then I'll tell you. There's a cemetery near the Quarter where they haven't yet found a beautiful blonde. I'm sure you know which one. There is a mausoleum there, one I know you know--well."
Her heart seemed to stop.
She knew exactly what he was referring to.
"It's quite a glorious memorial, large and magnificent, with rows of crypts, and a massive sarcophagus right in the middle holding two Keepers not long gone. Have you figured out what I'm talking about yet?"
"Of course I have," she said, praying that she could keep her tone flat and dry. "Obviously."
That wretched laughter sounded again.
"Where else to find a beautiful blonde MacDonald than atop a MacDonald tomb? Move quickly," the voice added harshly. "Time is everything now."
"Thomas Anderson," Sean O'Casey said.
Jagger blinked and waited. When Sean didn't explain Jagger asked, "Am I supposed to recognize the name?"
"Yes. Well, maybe. He was a serial killer who preyed on women here--in the 1940s."
"The 1940s? He'd be way too old," Jagger said. "Can't be the same man."
"Get this--he was killed in 1949, hanged by the neck until dead," Sean said.
So a ghost had been haunting the strip club.
Or the man had been hanged by the neck until dead--but bitten by a vampire while no one was looking?
Or...the man in the strip club had been a shapeshifter. But was he also their killer?
"Okay, Sean, thank you. I need you to get over here to the MacDonald house and stay with Shauna MacDonald."
"I'm on it."
"What?" Shauna protested. "Wherever you're going, I'm going with you."
"No," he told her.
"Hey, I'm not a damsel in distress--I'm a Keeper. I can turn into a wolf with massive teeth and long, long claws whenever I desire."
"Shauna, if anything happens, you have to survive. Do you understand? One of us has to be here to--to be the one to pick up the pieces if I don't manage to..."
"Don't you dare say it! My sisters have to be all right."
"Shauna, I'm begging you--it's imperative that we all think logically right now, and I need you here. What if I need help? I need to know there's someone I can reach."
"You better not be patronizing me," Shauna told him.
"I'm not. Sean O'Casey is coming over and--"
"I don't need police protection."
"He's a leprechaun--" Jagger began.
"A leprechaun?" Shauna asked, frowning fiercely.
"You have a leprechaun coming to watch over me?"