Always the Vampire

“More important,” Cosmil said, “we discovered a birthmark on the bottom of Lynn’s foot.”


I blinked at that, and so did the guys.

“You would not have noticed it,” Cosmil continued, “but Lia has heard of such a mark and has contacted the Council of Ancients for more information.”

Triton huffed. “Aren’t you going to tell us what you do know about the mark?”

“No,” Lia said firmly. “However, if I am right, the birthmark will explain Lynn’s origins.”

“But for now, you think we can trust her,” I said.

“I believe we may offer at least limited trust,” Cosmil answered.

“Why limited?”

“Because now that she and Triton have met,” Saber said, “Lynn could be on Starrack’s radar.”

Lia nodded. “Precisely, Saber.”

He straightened. “We talked about putting her in a safe place last night,” Saber said. “Can she hide out here with you and Lia?”

Cosmil grimaced. “No. We must remain focused on tracking Starrack and training you, and no one on the Council will shelter an unknown shifter. There is still too much suspicion among the factions.”

“Damn.” Triton looked from Saber to me. “Do you know any supernaturals who would take her in? What about that old vampire couple? Or are they infected, too?”

“The Clarkes have a clean bill of health for now,” Saber said, “but they can’t watch over her in the daytime.”

Cosmil eyed Saber. “Have you considered your law enforcement contacts? Would one of them be willing to house Lynn for a short time?”

“If this were a threat from a human source, maybe, but most cops steer clear of preternatural matters. That’s why they call me to consult.”

I sighed. “It sounds like we have two big questions. One, if Starrack were to come after Lynn, where is the last place he’d look? Two, who is strong enough, fanatic enough, or foolhardy enough to protect her from a nonhuman threat?”

No one in the group answered. My little voice whispered an idea, but its solution was ludicrous. Laughable.

We’d have to be drop-dead desperate to even consider it.





Back at my cottage, Snowball was pathetically happy to see us. Or rather Saber. From me, she wanted food.

And, gads, how many days had it been since we changed her litter?

We took care of pet chores, then I showed Saber what I’d found on the networking site.

“Can we get an ID on magicman1463?”

“We’d need a warrant, and we don’t have a tangible crime to ask for one.”

“Could a hacker get to the user’s profile?”

“I’ll ask Bob March when I take Triton over during the lunch hour, but it’s doubtful.”

“So this website is a dead end unless Lynn can tell us anything else.”

“About as dead as I am tonight. I haven’t been this tired since—”

“Your nest-closing tour of Florida?”

“Hey,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “We’re going to beat this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you keep telling me, and once you’ve made up your mind, it’s a done deal.”

“Yeah, well, let’s get you into the shower and then bed, big guy.”

Since we’re water conservation conscious, we showered together. Since I worried that he’d have nightmares, I watched over him through the night and worked on more design homework in on the side.

Fortunately, Saber spent a restful night and was up by eight thirty Friday morning. I sat with him while he breakfasted on cereal, a scrambled egg, and orange juice.

When he left at 9:05 to look in on Triton and help move some display tables in the shop, I set the perimeter alarm, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed at nine fifteen. Snowball purred from her place on Saber’s pillow, and I drifted off hoping daymares didn’t invade my sleep.

A deafening siren jerked me awake. My gaze darted to every corner of the darkened bedroom, looking for the source of the noise. The digital clock read 12:10, but the alarm was never set for that time of day.

Then it hit me.

The perimeter alarm.

It seemed stupid to go to my hidey-hole, but I scrambled out of bed. That was the drill, and Saber would stake me himself if I didn’t follow the plan.

I tripped into my walk-in closet, slapped shoe boxes out of the way, and shoved the hidey-hole door open. A forty-watt bulb in a white ceramic fixture lit the way as I stumbled down the two steps into the concrete bunker. Snowball shot inside, too, stampeding over my back. Heart pounding, blood pressure soaring, I shut the safe room door.

The phone tied directly into Sam’s Security rang, and I grabbed the receiver off the wall mount.

“Yes.”

“Ms. Marinelli, do you know what triggered your alarm?”

“No, I was sleeping.”

“The police are en route. Sit tight and we’ll call back.”