A DREAM. HOW IS SUCH A THING POSSIBLE?
Rose is watching me. What's wrong?
I can't answer. I don't know what to say. It's crazy. How could I have dreamed what Rebecca just described? I try to dredge up images from the dream but all that's left are impressions. Fear. Confusion.
I bury what I'm thinking deep in my subconscious.
To Rose , I think I'd better go. I'll start a search for this Jason character. He's the only real connection I have right now to the one who did this.
I face the girls. "You're safe here. Rose will take care of you. I'll be back when I have news."
Rebecca's eyes burn with questions I can't answer. Yet. I hurry out before she can give voice to them. There are four new human hosts standing just outside the bedroom and Rose calls them in. At least I can leave knowing the girls are in good hands.
Williams is still at Brooke's when I call. I tell him I may have a lead. He agrees to meet me at the cottage in two hours. I head straight there.
A shower. Cold this time, to clear away the cobwebs and try to make sense of a senseless notion. I saw what happened to Rebecca in a dream? Crazy. There's another explanation. There has to be.
I can't think of any. I'm as confused when I step out of the shower as when I stepped in. The only thing that's changed is that my skin is puckered and blue-tinged from the cold. I wrap myself in a robe.
Coffee. I head downstairs. I'm filling the pot when I realize what I really want is a good stiff drink.
Fortified with a tumbler of good scotch and my laptop, I begin the search for Loren aka Jason Shelton. I google his name. The only thing that comes up is a reference to a company. Nelson Security Services.
That name was on the logo on the car in the warehouse parking lot. I click my way to their website.
Company policies, guidelines, testimonials from satisfied customers.
Pictures. A group shot in front of the company office. One of the guards in particular catches my eye.
A flash of recognition.
Clear now. But disturbing in its implication.
The guard with the dog at the warehouse was the man in my dream.
And that man was Jason.
But a vampire?
I got no such vibe from him. I got nothing except an impression of hostility and ugliness-that he was a mean son of a bitch. But a human one.
When Williams arrives, my head is swimming with confusion and fuzzy from the scotch. I keep both to myself, preferring to adopt a matter-of-fact attitude as I fill him in on the condition of the vampires at the safe house and what they told me. That Burke's bodyguard was the one who tortured them. That I have no doubt that the security guard, Jason, was the one who set the explosives that blew the place up.
Since he's an employee of a company listed in the Yellow Pages, I figure that would be the logical place to start looking for him.
I don't mention that he's a vampire or that he was the one who found the girls and turned them.
Or the dream.
I don't know why I don't tell him. Maybe the thought of another lecture on my ignorance is more than I can stand tonight.
I take another gulp of scotch. It burns in a good way, and a comforting burst of warmth radiates from the pit of my stomach. I cradle the glass against my cheek. Scotch was a much better choice than coffee. I'm not feeling nearly as anxious.
Williams reaches over and takes the glass out of my hand.
"Hey. I need that."
"Tomorrow," he says in reply.
"Tomorrow?"
"You'll start looking for Jason tomorrow." He takes the glass to the sink and empties it. "You look beat. Making love to a bottle of scotch isn't going to help. Sleep is going to help. Go to bed. I'll work on finding Jason. And in the morning, we should have the analysis of that face cream."
He lets his voice drop off, but I pick up a feeling that he's guarding something from me much the same way I'm guarding my uncertainty from him. What comes through is Ortiz, his sorrow at his loss. The sensation is gone in a heartbeat but it sobers me.
"What do you think Burke was doing with the blood she was collecting from the ampires? " I ask after a minute.
"If I was to guess? The blood is an ingredient in her cream."
I close my eyes for a minute, processing the idea, repulsed by it. "How? For what purpose?"
"It's an antiaging cream." His tone is abrupt, accusa tory. "Women will go to any lengths to recapture youth. Burke found a way to capitalize on that compulsion."
His indictment of all females should spark an argument. Tonight it only sparks a weary sigh.
"How would it work? Have you ever heard of vampire blood being used to enhance a human product?"
"No. I've never heard of a topical application of vampire blood having any power. That's not to say it doesn't." He stands up. "We'll know tomorrow. Now get some sleep. I've arranged for one of our security patrols to-"
"Security patrol? What for?"
He casts a glance toward the bottle. "To make sure you have a tomorrow. Burke may be having you watched. If she is, she'll know how you spent your afternoon. She's bound to be pissed you got those girls out of that warehouse. I would have suggested you sleep somewhere else tonight, but you're never inclined to take my suggestions. I did the next best thing."
For once, I don't argue, object or balk at what he's saying. Truth is, I never gave a thought that Burke might come after me directly. She seemed to be having too much fun watching me dance. But saving those girls may have ratch eted the stakes up a notch.
"Culebra."
It's all I say. Williams shakes his head. "I'll check in with Sandra. If there's any change, I'll let you know."
I walk him to the door, close it, lock it and trudge upstairs.
Now drinking all that scotch doesn't seem like the good idea it was earlier. My brain is fuzzy, my limbs heavy. I eye the bed, still unmade. The scotch and lack of sleep make that detail as unimportant as the fear I should be feeling that any minute Burke might strike.
For once I hope Williams was telling the truth about assigning a security patrol. Idly, I wonder if will be composed of vampires or some other supernatural member of the Watchers. The one thing I am sure of is it will be no ordinary security patrol.
I shed my clothes, grab up a blanket and pillow and fall across the bare mattress. My last thought before I drift off is how my conversation with Williams tonight is the only one in a long time that hasn't ended with our threatening to kill each other.