Keeper of the Night

Tony pulled down the sheet that covered the victim, and Brodie stared first at the face, his jaw hardening.

“You’ve seen him before?”

Brodie nodded. “It’s hard to tell, really, the body is so decomposed. But I think I recognize him. I think he was at the first performance of the show.”

“Any idea who he is?” Tony asked.

“No, he was just a face in the crowd. Second row center. Have you gotten a hit off dental records? What about fingerprints?”

“Look at the hands,” Tony told him, pulling the sheet down farther.

Brodie did, and he felt his stomach lurch sharply, even though he’d expected the scene that met his eyes.

The killer had chopped off the fingers.

Tony nodded toward the body. “Just like the other two. And here’s what I found—you’ll need that magnifier there.” He pointed.

Brodie picked up the small magnifying glass that Tony had indicated, then walked down to join Tony by the foot of the gurney. Tony slipped on gloves and moved the thigh. The skin was mottled and bruised looking.

“No lividity?” Brodie asked.

“The discoloration and bloating you see are because he was dumped in a pond out by one of those housing projects they never finished off Laurel Canyon—suspiciously near your theater,” Tony said. “But use the magnifying glass and check out his thigh. There are marks. They’re tiny, and they’re practically buried in swollen flesh, but they’re there. And, of course, the body was pretty much drained of blood. There is a slash at the throat, but despite the damage and decay, I believe it was postmortem.”

Despite his feelings about autopsy and corpses, Brodie donned gloves, shifted the dead man’s leg and peered through the microscope, searching for the telltale marks, then looked up at Tony.

“Third body in two weeks with the same marks and same method of disposal,” Tony said.

“And I know I’ve seen this one at the theater,” Brodie said wearily.

“And the killer dumped them all close to that theater,” Tony told him. “Your captain seems to have been on the mark.”

Brodie nodded. “Yeah, without his insight the victims might have fallen on to the big pile of cold cases, with no leads to go on. The captain is…a smart guy.”

“Guess that means you stay undercover,” Tony said. “Too bad L.A.’s three best Keepers have been called to council. This is one hell of a mess.”

Brodie thought about the stunning young auburn-haired woman with the big green eyes he had seen at the café. She’d rushed to what she thought was a crime scene like a bat out of hell. She’d been ready, he thought. But she wasn’t ready enough. She loved her music too much. In a way, he understood. It was difficult to realize that you could—had to—lead a normal life, then let it all go to hell when necessary.

He wished to hell that Piers Gryffald, Rhiannon’s father and the previous Keeper of the Canyon vampires, was still there.

But he wasn’t.

And the body count was rising.

Driving in L.A. was not like driving in Savannah. People in Savannah moved at a far more human pace. Everyone in L.A. was in a hurry, which seemed strange, because often they were hurrying just to go sit in a coffee shop and while away their time, hoping to make the right connection. Some hopefuls still believed that they could be “discovered” in an ice cream parlor, and God knew, in Hollywood, anything could happen, even if the statistics weren’t in their favor.

At least coming home—to the house that had been her old summer home and was now her permanent base—was appealing. She had to admit, she loved the exquisite old property where she lived with Sailor and Barrie. Each of them had her own house on the estate—the compound, really—that had been left to their grandfather, Rhys Gryffald, by the great Merlin, magician extraordinaire, real name Ivan Schwartz.

Somehow during his younger years, Merlin had learned about the Keepers. He’d longed to be one, but only those born in the bloodline, born with the telltale birthmark indicating what they were destined to become—werewolf Keeper, vampire Keeper, shapeshifter Keeper and so on—could inherit the role. Since he couldn’t be a Keeper, Ivan did the next best thing: he befriended one. In fact, he had become such good friends with Rhiannon’s grandfather that he had first built him a house on the property, opposite the guesthouse that already existed, and then, on his death, Merlin had willed the entire compound to him.

Good old Ivan. He had loved them all so much that he had never actually left.

The House of the Rising Sun, the main house, loomed above her as she drove along the canyon road, and she had to admit, it was magnificent. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known the house all her life. Her grandparents had three sons—her father and her two uncles—and her dad had been mentored by a Keeper in Savannah, which had turned out to be a very good thing, since he’d fallen in love with her mother, a musical director for a Savannah theater. But then he’d returned to L.A. and assumed responsibility for the Canyon vampires—and she shouldn’t have had to take over for another zillion years, give or take. She had grown up in Savannah, where her mother had kept her job, and her father had traveled back and forth on a regular basis. Despite the distance, her parents enjoyed one of the best marriages she had ever seen. And she’d grown close with her L.A. family, because she’d spent summers and most holidays there at the House of the Rising Sun. Sailor had always lived in the House of the Rising Sun itself, except for her acting stint in New York.

Barrie was now in Gwydion’s Cave, the house Merlin had built for their grandfather, and she herself had the original 1920s guesthouse, called Pandora’s Box.

Pandora’s Box. A fitting name for all of L.A. in her opinion.

The main house really was beautiful! Regal, haunting and majestic, high up on a cliff. The style was Mediterranean Gothic, and it seemed to hold a thousand secrets as it stood proud against the night sky.

As a matter of fact, it did hold a thousand secrets. All right, maybe not a thousand, but a lot of them. Like the tunnels that connected all three houses. And the little red buttons that looked like light switches and were set randomly around the three houses. Little red buttons that set off alarms in all three residences, in case someone in any one of them needed help.

The property could only be reached via a winding driveway that scaled the cliff face, and the entire property was protected by a tall stone wall. She had to open the massive electric gate with a remote she kept in her car or else buzz in and hope someone was home to answer.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that she loved the House of the Rising Sun and living on the estate wasn’t any kind of punishment. It was still breathtaking to watch the gate swing wide to allow entry to the compound, and then awe inspiring to see the beautiful stone facades of the houses appear.

Sometimes she wondered why Merlin had bothered with the wall. The Others that the Keepers were assigned to watch weren’t the type to be stopped by walls or gates. But then again, Merlin had lived in the real world with its real dangers, too, as did they—although calling the surreal world of Hollywood “real” seemed like a contradiction in terms.

She clicked the gate shut behind her and drove forward slowly, noting that Barrie’s car was parked on the left side of the property, while Sailor’s, unsurprisingly, was not. Since there was no garage—all the available land had been used for the houses—she assumed that if Sailor’s car wasn’t there, neither was Sailor herself. Barrie was determined to save the world, not only by overseeing the shapeshifters but also by practicing the kind of hard-hitting journalism that could bring about change in L.A., if not the world, so, she tended to keep reasonable hours. Sailor, Keeper of the Elven, was determined to rule the world from the silver screen, which meant she was likely to be out and networking at all hours.

Still thinking about the way the Elven had handed her his card and told her that she should see the play, Rhiannon pulled into her usual parking place and exited the car, bringing her guitar with her as she headed for Pandora’s Box. Slipping her key into the lock, she shoved a shoulder wearily against the door, stepped in and flicked on the lights.

She was tired. And she worked in a café, for God’s sake. She should have brought home a gourmet tea to sip while she unwound, but after only a few minutes with Mac Brodie she had been too disconcerted to think of it.

She set her guitar case in its stand and headed into the kitchen. There she quickly brewed a cup of tea and added a touch of milk, then headed back out to the living room to sink into the comfortable old sofa and lean back. She closed her eyes.

“No, you really should come see the show….”

There was a tap at her door. She listened for a minute without rising. She was tired. And frustrated. And, she had to admit, unnerved.

An Elven had come to her and told her that she needed to see a vampire play.

Why?

It was just a play, a pretense. No vampires were out there killing people. Or other vampires, or anyone else. If they were, she would have heard about it on the news, wouldn’t she?

The tapping became more persistent. Rhiannon forced herself to rise. It could only be one of a very few people at this time of night. Maybe Sailor had come home early and might listen to the story of Rhiannon’s night and give her some advice.

It wasn’t Sailor or even Barrie who stood at her door. Merlin had come by to visit. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?” he asked anxiously.

Yes, you are, she almost said, but she refrained. Merlin was a ghost. If he wanted to, he could be anywhere—perched on the end of the grand piano in the living room, day and night, if he felt like it. But he was a polite ghost, one who had learned to manifest corporeally. He had mastered the art of knocking on doors to announce his presence and behaved at all times as if he was not only living but a gentleman. He had maintained his old room in the main house, and he was careful to be the best possible “tenant.” They all loved him, but Sailor, in particular, was accustomed to living with him—both before and after his death.

They had all sobbed at his funeral—until they realized that he was standing right there with them, comforting them in his new and unearthly form.

“Come in, Merlin, please,” she said. “Have a seat. My home is your home, you know. Literally,” she added with a warm smile.

Merlin had always been so good to her family, and it had been a two-way street. Her grandfather had saved him from jail when a shapeshifter had impersonated him and perpetrated several lewd crimes while posing as the noted magician. Her grandfather had been the shapeshifter Keeper and had worked with a friend on the police force—a werewolf—to prove that someone had been impersonating Merlin, and ensure that the proper person was caught and punished.

She stepped back from the door, sweeping a hand wide to indicate that he should join her.

Merlin stepped inside, looked around and sighed with happiness. “I’m so glad that you girls are living here,” he told her.

He walked to the sofa and sank onto it, looking like a dignified and slightly weary old man. Which was exactly what he had been when he’d died. He’d lived a good, long life that had left him with a charmingly lined face, bright blue eyes and a cap of snow-white hair. Having him around really was like having a grandfather on the property.

“And we’re glad to be here,” Rhiannon said.

What a liar she was, she thought. She’d been about to get her big break when she’d been called home and been told that she was an adult and the good times were over. Her responsibilities had crashed down upon her with no time for her to think about it, to say yes or no. Suddenly all three Gryffald brothers were being sent overseas and their daughters were taking their places, and that was that.

Of course her father and her uncles hadn’t been given a chance to say yes or no any more than she and Sailor and Barrie had.

The brothers had been summoned to serve on the new high council of Keepers at the Hague, a council that would act as a worldwide governing body for the Otherworld and the Others.

“Are you fitting in okay?” Merlin asked her, sincere concern in his voice.

“Of course.” She forced a smile. None of this was Merlin’s fault. Or her father’s. He’d tried to be so fierce when he’d talked to her. You are the Keeper for the vampires, Rhiannon. They are powerful and deadly, and yours is a grave responsibility.

At the time, of course, all she’d seen was that her band was finally getting a real break—and she wasn’t going to be there to experience it.

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. “I was just wondering…I mean, this is L.A. It’s not as if there isn’t plenty of murder, mayhem and scandal on a purely human level.”

“Merlin, what are you talking about?” she asked wearily.

“You might want to talk to Barrie. There have been a few mysterious deaths lately.”

Something hard seemed to fall to the pit of her stomach. This couldn’t involve her. Not already.

“Mysterious deaths?” she asked.

Merlin nodded. “They haven’t gotten a lot of coverage, because none of them have been on one of those trashy reality shows or even made Hollywood’s D list. These poor people have gone from this world unnoticed and unknown.”

“Like you said—this is L.A.,” Rhiannon said, frowning.

“Well, speak to your cousin, because she’s got contacts who have told her a few things. There have been three similar deaths, and all three corpses were discovered in a similarly advanced state of decay.”

“And?” She whispered the word, as if that could keep her fears from becoming real.

“The cops have been trying to keep the details out of the papers, but someone leaked one important fact,” Merlin told her grimly.

“And that fact is…?” she asked.

He winced. “I’m sorry, Rhiannon. The corpses were almost bone dry, sucked dry of…”

“Of?” she asked, even though in her heart she knew the answer.

“Blood,” Merlin said gravely. “Sucked dry of blood.”

Chapter 2

To a lot of people in L.A., it wasn’t all that late.

But to Rhiannon, after her wretched shift at the café, nothing sounded more welcome than her bed and a pillow.

Still, she knew she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t try to talk to Barrie, though with any luck Barrie would already be in bed and wouldn’t answer the knock at her door.

To Rhiannon’s dismay, Barrie was up.

A single light was on in Barrie’s living room, where she had been sitting on her sofa and working. Her laptop was sitting on a pile of newspapers and magazines.

Barrie definitely tended to be a workaholic.

She had a good job in her chosen field, but she still wasn’t where she wanted to be in her career. At the moment she mostly got stories that ran under headlines—often handed to her whether she liked them or not—like “West Hollywood Woman Reveals Secret Behind Amazing Weight Loss.”

Barrie was a crusader; she had strong opinions on right and wrong. She wanted to be where the action was. She wanted to get off the crime beat and into issue-based investigative journalism, but her Keeper duties would always have to take precedence, and that was a problem.

Rhiannon sympathized with her. She knew how difficult it was, trying to have a real career and deal with this sudden shift in purpose.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Barrie grinned and rolled her eyes. “Merlin, maybe—sometimes he forgets the time. Thought you’d come home exhausted and ready to crash.”

“Am I interrupting?” Rhiannon asked her.

“No. Yes—but it’s all right, honestly.” She sighed. “I’m trying to come up with a story and an angle no one’s thought of yet, so I can take it to my boss and maybe—finally—get a green light.”

“Good luck,” Rhiannon offered.

“So, how did things go at the café tonight?”

“They sucked. Totally sucked. Some actors staged a vampire attack right out front to publicize their play and nearly gave me heart failure—and in all the fuss my tip jar was stolen.”

“You’re right. That sucks. Want a cup of tea?”

“I just had one, but sure,” Rhiannon said.

Barrie led the way into the kitchen.

All three of their houses might have been curio museums, filled as they were with Merlin’s collections from a lifetime of loving magic—and the bizarre. The main house held the bulk of it, because it was so large, with five bedrooms upstairs, a grand living room and a family room that led out to the pool. Tiffany lamps were everywhere, along with Edwardian furniture, and busts and statues, and paintings that covered the walls. Pandora’s Box had a Victorian feel, with rich, almost stuffy furniture, and a collection of sculpted birds, with the largest being a magnificent gesso rendition of Poe’s raven. It also boasted a few of Merlin’s old coin-drop fortune-teller machines.

Gwydion’s Cave, Barrie’s house, was decorated with old peacock fans, marble sideboards and rich wood pieces from the decadent days of the speakeasy. The service she used for tea was Royal Doulton. As she entered the kitchen, Rhiannon caught sight of herself in one of the antique hall mirrors, and though she knew it was distorted by the old glass, her own image troubled her.

She had the shocked look of someone who had stuck a finger in a live socket.

Barrie hummed as she boiled water and then looked at Rhiannon. “Something more happened than what you’re telling me, didn’t it? I always think of you as the go-getter among us. Nothing fazes you. But tonight you look…fazed.”

“What if that attack had been real? Would I actually have been able to do anything to stop it? I guess we didn’t think we’d be handling this kind of thing so quickly,” Rhiannon said.

“None of us did. But it’s not like we had a choice.”

“I know. I just want to play my music, you know? It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I missed my shot with the band, but at least I get to play at the café, you know? And that’s what I was doing when those idiots interrupted.”

“Listen to you, being so whiny.”

“Whiny?” Rhiannon protested indignantly.

“Yes, whiny. ‘Everybody but me gets to play in the band, while I’m stuck in a coffee shop playing for tips.’ Buck up, buttercup.”

“All right, all right, I have been whining. A little bit. But, honestly, I just wish…I wish we’d been a little better prepared. I mean, my dad is in great health. I never thought…”

“You never thought you’d have to be a Keeper until you were old and gray. I know. Neither did I. But here we are. So, what else is bothering you? Because I know there’s something.”

“All right, I came here to tell you, so…one of the actors was an Elven. I saw him when I was closing up my guitar case for the night. He came up to me and chatted, and I—I wasn’t exactly rude, but I felt like he was comparing me to my dad and it bugged me. You know that Keepers all over the state put us down all the time. ‘The Gryffald girls. What a shame their fathers were all put on the council. There used to be good Keepers in the Canyon.’ So I guess I was a little rude. But really, I don’t want to get all warm and cozy with the Elven—I’m going to have my hands full with the vampires.”

“I understand all that,” Barrie said calmly. “So, why are you so upset?”

“Well, he invited me to see his show. Like I want to see some ridiculous play about a bunch of vampire attacks. I brushed him off. But he knew who I was, and he said, ‘No, no, you really should see the show,’ or something weird like that, and when I got home…” She paused for breath.

“When you got home?” Barrie prompted.

“Merlin dropped in on me. And he told me that I should speak to you—that there have been three recent murders in L.A.—”

“Only three?” Barrie interjected drily.

“Three in which the bodies have been found drained of blood and decayed and…I don’t know. Merlin just said to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Barrie said.

“Oh?” Rhiannon repeated. “Come on, Barrie. You must know something. You work at a newspaper, for God’s sake.”

“You know all they give me is fluff,” Barrie reminded her.

“Yes, but you’re there and you must hear things.”

“I don’t remember anything that sensational, but maybe the police are keeping the details quiet. I do remember hearing about a John Doe found in a lake near some half-built apartment complex. That might have been one of your victims. I’ll see what I can find out,” she promised. “So—when are you going to see the show?”

“Now that Merlin’s talked to me? Tomorrow night,” Rhiannon told her, then sighed. “Hugh told me not to be late tomorrow night. He’s going to give me a buttload of grief, not to mention dock my pay.”

“Tell him you can’t be there—that you have Keeper duties and that’s it. I’ve seen you in action. You’re great fighting other people’s wars—fight this one for yourself. For all three of us,” Barrie added. “We have to prove ourselves. You might as well start tomorrow night with Hugh.”

As Barrie poured hot water into the teapot, they heard the sound of a car door slamming. “Sailor’s home,” she commented.

“So she is.”

“I’ll get another cup.”

Rhiannon walked to the door and opened it just as Sailor was about to knock.

“Hi,” her cousin said.

Sailor spoke with a cheerful voice and had a perfect smile to go with it. Rhiannon thought that while they were all decent looking, Sailor was their true beauty. It made sense that she was so passionate about being an actress. She had both the talent and the looks.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that Sailor had been destined to be Keeper of the Canyon Elven. Elven were beautiful, Rhiannon reminded herself drily, thinking of Mac Brodie.

Guilt bit into her. Several times she’d caught herself feeling impatient with Sailor for not taking their calling seriously, but hadn’t she wanted to deny it herself? And now she was facing her first real challenge—because even if the murders proved to have nothing to do with the Canyon vampire community, standing up to Hugh was going to be no picnic—and all she wanted was to run away.

“I saw the light, so I thought I’d stop by,” Sailor said.

“Come on in,” Rhiannon said.

Sailor swept past her and headed straight for the kitchen. “I had a great night—I mean a great night. I went to this fantastic party at the club—Declan Wainwright’s club, the Snake Pit.”

Declan Wainwright was the shapeshifter Keeper for the Malibu area. They’d known him forever, though Rhiannon wasn’t sure she would actually call him a friend.

“Declan told me he was going to ask you to play there a few nights a week. Well, he didn’t tell me. He’s kind of an ass to me. I’m not A-list enough for him, so mostly he ignores me. But I was with Darius Simonides, and he told Darius that he was going to talk to you. Pretty great, huh?”

“It’s nice that you spent some time with Darius,” Rhiannon said, filing away the potential offer of employment to consider later. Darius Simonides was Sailor’s godfather and a big-deal Hollywood agent, but as far as Rhiannon could tell, he hadn’t done much for her. At least not professionally. There was also something…slimy about him, she thought. Maybe it was because he was so…Hollywood. In his line of business, double-talk was really the only talk. Maybe that was at the heart of her reaction to him, but she still didn’t trust him.

“Not only that, we hung with Hunter Jackson, too—do you know who he is?”

“Hunter Jackson,” Rhiannon repeated, trying to remember why he sounded so familiar. “I’ve heard the name,” she said.

“He’s a director,” Barrie said.

“He’s the director these days, and he says that he has a role for me in a big-budget vampire thriller he’s going to start filming in January. He and Darius actually invited me to the Snake Pit tonight to talk to me about it.” Sailor beamed. “And it turns out there’s a reason why Darius has kept his hands off me.”

“That’s good to hear,” Barrie muttered sarcastically.

“I mean as far as my career goes,” Sailor said. “Darius is a sweetie—people just think he’s tough because he’s so powerful. The thing is, he wanted me to make my own way, to prove I could succeed on my own before he stepped in. But tonight—it was wonderful!” Sailor looked rapturous. She drew a breath, and Rhiannon was sure she was going to go on some more about her amazing night, but instead she said, “Barrie, you have artificial sweetener, don’t you? I don’t want to gain an ounce right now.”

Rhiannon decided that she would once again have to rethink Sailor’s role in ensuring the safety of the world.

“I have everything I can think of for anyone’s choice in tea,” Barrie said. “Dig into the cabinet and help yourself.”

“So, tell me more,” Rhiannon said, genuinely happy for her cousin and momentarily putting aside her fears for the fate of the world.

Sailor turned to her, beaming. “The two leads will be major A-list actors. I don’t know who yet. But what I’ll make for just a few days’ work will pay my bills for months.”

Rhiannon lowered her head. At least one of them would be making a decent income, though if what Sailor had said about the offer to play the Snake Pit was true, she would be earning some real money, too, even if Hugh got mad enough to fire her. She looked up quickly, frowning. “Hunter Jackson…I remember reading something about him.” She looked at Sailor. “He’s a vampire, right? But he’s the responsibility of the West Hollywood Keeper, Geoff Banner.”

“Yes,” Barrie said. “And he’s the perfect person to direct a vampire thriller. The movies always have it wrong. Like all that crap about how vampires can’t go out during the day.”

“Seriously,” Rhiannon agreed. “But no one wants to hear that the only problem is their eyes are exceptionally sensitive to light, so they always wear sunglasses—something that seems to be expected in Hollywood, anyway.” She met Sailor’s eyes. “You did know that he’s a vampire, right?”

Sailor stared at her, indignant. “Of course I did. I’m the one who really grew up here, remember? I know the lowdown on almost everyone. Am I supposed to suddenly be suspicious of him because he’s a vampire? And of all people who might be down on vampires, it shouldn’t be you!”

“I’m not down on vampires,” Rhiannon said quickly.

“Then what’s your problem?” Sailor asked.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were dealing with, that’s all,” Rhiannon said.

Sailor looked at her as if she knew Rhiannon doubted her abilities—and her competence in the face of a crisis. “Yes, I am well aware, thank you. And if you come across any Elven, I hope you’ll try to be a little less judgmental.”

Failed that one, Rhiannon thought. But she kept silent.

“Hey!” Barrie said, lifting a hand. “I get that we’re all a little jittery right now, with our new responsibilities and all, but it’s important that we get along. The world respected our fathers, but we’re going to have to prove ourselves. And that will be a lot easier if we respect each other.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Rhiannon said softly.

“There’s nothing to prove, at least not right now,” Sailor said. “Thanks to our dads, everything in the Canyon is running smoothly.” She turned to Rhiannon. “Can’t you just be happy for me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. I am happy for you,” Rhiannon said. She hugged Sailor, who resisted for a moment then eased up and hugged Rhiannon in return. “I’m sorry. It was a bad night for me,” Rhiannon said.

“Her tip jar was stolen,” Barrie explained. “Among other things.”

“Those bastards stole your tip jar!” Sailor said, straightening, her protest loyal and fierce.

“It’s all right,” Rhiannon said. “I’ll live.” She an arm around Sailor’s shoulders. “We need to go home. Barrie has an early morning, as usual.” She turned to her other cousin. “Night, Barrie, thanks for listening.”

“Hey, wait,” Barrie said, following Rhiannon and Sailor to the door. “Rhiannon, I’ll see what I can dig up tomorrow. And also, I was thinking that Sailor and I should go see that play with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Rhiannon said.

“Play?” Sailor said, perking up. “What play?”

“Vampire Rampage,” Rhiannon said.

To Rhiannon’s surprise, Sailor’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, not at all. They pulled a promo stunt in front of the coffee shop tonight.”

Sailor’s eyes were wide. “The movie—the one I’ve been asked to be in—is called Vampire Rampage, and it’s based on the play. Yes, let’s all go. It will really help me to see the original.”

“And to think, I was just hoping it might keep someone alive,” Rhiannon said.

Sailor turned slowly and stared at her. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“An Elven actor stopped by the café tonight, and he told me that I really need to see the play. And then Merlin told me tonight that three murder victims have been found drained of blood. So now I’m kind of worried that a vampire, well, you know….”

Sailor stared at Rhiannon for a long moment, and then reached out and pulled her into a hug. “Oh, I am so sorry! You know…maybe someone has been itching to break the rules and waited until our fathers were gone, figuring that—”

“We’d be ineffectual,” Rhiannon said wearily.

Barrie and Sailor were silent.

“Well, I don’t intend to be ineffectual,” Rhiannon said. “So tomorrow night, the three of us, the theater…”

“We’ll be ready,” Sailor assured her. “It will be great.”

“All I can think about is three bodies drained of blood—and I’ve barely been here a week,” Rhiannon said.

“We’ll get through this. We’ll help you get the answers,” Barrie said. “Right, Sailor?”