Keeper Chronicles: Awakening (32 page)

“Many first-orders have the ability to hypnotize their prey—some through sounds or pictures or even foods.” Keiko stopped the truck at the front of the simple, single-story building. A helicopter sat parked on the roof, its blades spinning slightly as if it had recently landed. “Sirens do it through sexual energy.”

Gabe turned to look at her. “What about your Halloween party? Was he there as well?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Honestly, I was a little distracted. He could’ve been there and I just might not have seen him.”

“When we get inside, I need you to work with a sketch artist to capture his new form and that of the girl he was with. She is key to finding the demon and stopping him.” His mother opened the door and exited the car.

Gabe followed with Rebekah, wishing he could keep her to himself just a little while longer. The bright sunlight, so cheery on the open ocean, barely penetrated the thick forest canopy around the office. Chosen because of its distance from the main roads and access to nearby woods, the location provided a certain amount of protection in its seclusion. Kissing her on the cheek, he let Rebekah be taken away by the sketch artist—an unfortunate artistic soul trapped in a world of violence. Still, Kenny’s detailed anatomical drawings of the various demons he’d encountered had saved more than one life.

Walking into the main war room—a conference room with an oval table and six enormous touch screen computers tracking everything from weather satellites to missing persons reports—he sat on his father’s right side in the only open seat remaining. The position, a subtle reminder to all those present of who would be their next leader, was also a trap for Gabe. His father, always wanting to remind Gabe of his responsibility, never let him forget his place in the hierarchy.

Moore, Ramirez, and Cunningham nodded at him. Vargas, Juliette’s father, glowered. The Hunters stood in front of the room, whispering furiously over something. A young girl, no more than nine or ten, stood off to the side looking awkward and confused. Who had he missed?

“Please begin.” His father gestured to the Hunters.

Nicholas spoke for the both of them, flashing an image of a person up on the screen. “This is the body our first has been using—Adam Dillinger, a Texas native. He’s intelligent. Unpredictable. His primary food source is accidental death—innocents. He likes to start fires especially, so watch for that. We chased his trail up the Pacific Coast to Seattle, where Colette last confronted him in a Keeper sanctuary. Now, we have reason to believe he’s back in this area and that he’s impregnated a local woman.”

“Do we know who?” Moore asked, leaning forward.

Gabe’s mother answered. “The newest member of our ranks, Lorek’s daughter, remembers seeing our suspect with a woman about a month ago; she’s in with the sketch artist now.”

“Excellent,” Colette smiled. “Once we get an ID, we’ll need your help speaking to her family, friends, co-workers—anyone the girl might have come in contact with or anyone she might have sought for shelter. The faster we can find her, the better. He knows we’re aware of his plan, and he’ll try to expedite things.”

Nicholas sat down at the table, and the girl climbed up on his lap. “Adam was wounded. He’ll need to have fed on his way back here from Seattle. While we’re waiting for the sketch, I’d like you all to help sort through these accident reports so we can try to guestimate his location. You’ve each been assigned a quadrant to your touchpads. Look for anything fire related or with a high number of casualties, flag it on the map, and we’ll review together.”

For the next hour, Gabe looked through little dots and linked reports, dismissing those that appeared the least likely and flagging potential demon involvement. At first, thinking of Rebekah distracted him. A sketch shouldn’t take that long—not hours, right? His father glared at him from time to time, though something satisfied twitched in the small lines around his mouth. No doubt his old man felt proud that his son had trained another Keeper, bringing another woman into their fold. Really, he should have been ashamed to put another person—his best friend’s daughter no less—in such danger.

Despite the thousand thoughts distracting him, Gabe finished his area before the others and decided to review the information. Some of the reports he’d flagged on his first sweep, he went ahead and dismissed the second time around. Still, a few promising remained.

The conference room door opened, and a smiling Rebekah entered trailing the sketch artist. “We’ve got it!” Kenny shouted, gesturing something on his touch pad. A new picture flashed to life on the central monitor. “Erica Wythrop. In the system for a misdemeanor B&E. She works as a waitress at the truck stop outside Florence and owns a trailer in the Evergreen Gardens community.”

Nicholas nodded and stood, passing the child to his wife.

“Great work. Colette and I will head down to the address and see if he’s there. The rest of you, divide up. Check everything. I want to know when she eats, when she sleeps, who she’s with, how many times she texts a day.” He stood up. “You never know what will turn a case like this. Be on your radios. If anyone sees either the girl or Adam, they are to call in for backup and wait. Do not approach the target. Understood?”

The two Hunters and their strange little shadow left.

Gabe waited for his father to start barking orders, but the Elder remained silent. Clearing his throat, Gabe took control. “Ramirez, I want you to take Cunningham and check out the truck stop. Talk to the employees—see if anyone’s seen her or the demon. Moore, you and Kenny find her electronic fingerprint: Facebook, Twitter, emails, cell phones. See who’s she’s been talking to and where. If she’s in trouble, she might have tried to call someone. Beks and I will talk to her family.”

“What should we do?” his father asked, tone flat and even.

“Coordinate with local authorities. Get their pictures in every police station and on every bulletin board.” Gabe waited for his father to make some kind of correction or lecture or tell him what he did wrong; it didn’t happen.

Taking Beks’ hand, he led her out of the conference room and back to the small cubicle that constituted his assigned office, though he only spent maybe one or two days there a month.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“I just have to do a quick records search for her next of kin; won’t take but a minute.” He sat and logged in to the database; pulling up the needed addresses was easy as there weren’t too many locals by the name Wythrop. “Are you ready...” He stopped.

Rebekah had picked up the picture of him and his fiancé from the desk. Little over a year old, the picture showed them at a charity ball—one thrown in secret as a fundraiser for local Keepers and their families. He’d asked her to marry him that night.

“You look so happy.” She turned to face him.

Gabe took the picture from her and ran his fingers along the wooden frame. “We were,” he answered. “That’s what happens when you’re a Keeper—you find a way to make all this tolerable, and someone or something comes along and snatches it away.” She reached out for him, but he pulled back. With one final glance, he tossed the picture into his trash can. Attachments got people killed. Made you sloppy. Here he’d gone and done it again. “Maybe you better stay here,” he said, not looking at her, and walked away.

Rebekah, of course, didn’t listen and followed him out to the car. “If you think I’m that easy to get rid of, you’ve got another thing coming Gabriel McDaniel. I let you go once; I’m not doing it again.”

The drive to the first address—that of Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Wythrop—was a silent one. He refused to dignify her presence with small talk, even if he felt reassured to have her there. Juliette and Rebekah, had they ever met, would have been instant friends. Neither took shit from him or let him believe he had any say in where they went or what they did. Probably why he fell in love with each.

Taking off his hat, Gabe knocked on the front door of the massive log cabin. The sound was absorbed by the walls, so he pressed the doorbell. No answer. Two cars sat parked in the driveway. He went and touched the hoods—cold. They’d been parked for some time. No other people had been listed as living at the residence, so the cars must have belonged to the husband and wife.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Beks asked, coming up beside him.

He should have ordered her to stay in the vehicle. Still, she was right. “Do you smell that?” he asked.

“It’s a little...sweet.”

They looked at each other. “Gas,” he said. “Call 9-1-1; we’re going to need ambulances, fire, everything.”

“What are you going to do?”

“My duty.” He ran toward the house. If they could smell the gas out in the street, the house must be inundated. One spark could ignite it. While his heritage could help him heal from all kinds of injuries, being exploded in a fireball wasn’t one of them.

Using his knife, he picked the lock to the front door and it opened with a click. With one hand he covered his nose and mouth; with the other, he drew his machete. “Is anyone alive in here?” he yelled, glancing around the living room. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He could hardly smell the gas here.

One of the coffee tables had shattered, shards of glass strewn across the carpet. He knelt next to a bloodstain and touched it. Still wet. The fight couldn’t have happened more than an hour ago—otherwise, the blood would have soaked through and dried. If the Wythrops were still alive, they wouldn’t be for long. Not with that much blood loss.

Coughing, he followed the blood trail through the living room and toward the back of the house, stopping at a wooden door leading downstairs. Figured. Why was it always the basement?

“Hello!” He shouted down the darkened stairwell. “Anyone alive down there?”

No answer.

Halfway down the stairs, the gas fumes grew stronger, making him lightheaded, and he had to grab the rail to keep from falling. No way was anyone conscious inside. Even he would be knocked out if he didn’t hurry. Gabe jumped the final five steps, landing on the basement floor in a crouch.

The unfinished room had books and boxes and tools stacked everywhere. Pushing his way through them, he found the elderly couple tossed near the hot water heater in the back. The gas line going into the house from the outside had been severed.

Gabe crouched next to Mr. Wythrop and felt for a pulse. The man had a pretty sizeable gash on his head, probably the source of the blood Gabe had followed downstairs. Dead. So was his wife.

“Hello, Keeper!” a voice shouted from the top of the stairs, freezing Gabe in his steps. Dylan? Rebekah’s ex-boyfriend? What was he doing there—and how did he know about the Keepers? “I have to admit, I thought separating the two of you would be a little more challenging. Juliette and I expected you to put up a fight.”

Dread washed over him. Juliette? “I killed you, demon. I watched you die with my own two eyes.”

Dylan chuckled. “I hadn’t fully formed then; we’re a lot tougher in our natural state, especially with the blood of two Keepers flowing through me. All you saw was me falling off that cliff. Lying limp at the bottom. I have to admit, though, even I thought it might have worked.”

Impossible. Gabe had been careful—had watched the bottom of the cliff for hours before leaving. How could he have made a mistake like this? A mistake that left Dylan up there with Rebekah. Alone. The same demon that’d killed his fiancé.

“I’m going to kill you!” he screamed, his voice cracking and breaking from inhaling so much gas.

The demon chuckled. “I’m the one with the lighter.”

Frantically, he looked around for somewhere he could hide. Some shelter. He’d never make it up the stairs and past Dylan before he lit the gas floating in the air. “Rebekah will never go back to you!”

“What would I want with some filthy human? Once I’ve ripped my child from her womb and opened the gate, I’m going to kill her very slowly as she watches everyone she’s known and loved die. Starting with you.”

He stumbled backward. It couldn’t be true. The demon lied. But then he’d seen the signs himself, the vomiting and enlarged breasts. Now she was going to die at the hands of the same demon who killed his fiancé. Stumbling from where the couple lay dead, he crossed the basement as the first sirens sounded in the distance. No amount of water, however, could tame the fire about to burn him. “The others will figure it out. They’ll stop you.”

It sounded weak even to him.

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Dylan laughed, his voice fading like he was walking away. “My friend Adam has some surprises planned for them, too. You’re only the beginning.”

Pushing past a rack of tools and a stack of blue plastic containers that vomited Christmas ornaments all over the ground, Gabe found what he needed: a gun safe. Almost as tall as he was, the hunter green safe had a spinning lock like in a cartoon and a brass handle. Using his anger and rage to fuel his strength, he ripped the lock right off the door.

Gabe tore out the shelves and shut himself inside, spilling shells and ammunition on the ground. He held the door closed as the searing flames pounded into the safe and the metal began to warm.

He thought of Rebekah standing out there alone, watching the house burn with him inside. Thinking him dead.

Lured away by Dylan.

Chapter Thirty

The explosion echoed in her bones as the shock of the blast threw Rebekah backwards. She hit the ground hard, a cry ripping from her throat even as the wail of sirens grew louder.

A splinter of wood sliced her brow, lost in the shower of debris raining down on her from what had once been a log cabin. She covered her head as something large slammed down not a foot from her, the crunch of breaking metal ringing in her ears. Panic gripped her, squeezing her chest like a vice as she struggled to knock off the rubble and get to her feet. She had to find him. No way had Gabe been in the house when it exploded.

Because if he had, he’d be dead. And that was simply not possible.

She wiped the blood out of her eye and turned to look at the house. The entire first floor had been decimated, little remaining save pieces of wall like the skeleton of an animal dead in the desert. A black cloud of smoke mushroomed toward the heavens.