Keeper of the Night. Heather Graham

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      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?”

      “Right,” Sailor agreed.

      Rhiannon left Gwydion’s Cave and headed back to her own house. The moon was out, shining down and creating a crystal trail across the surface of the pool.

      Three bodies drained of blood.

      Tomorrow she would get out her dad’s list of helpful contacts in the city. She had to get into the morgue and see what she could find out, and then, tomorrow night, the play.

      “Vampire Rampage,” she murmured.

      She reached into her pocket and fingered the business card the Elven had given her, then pulled it out and looked at it. Mac Brodie, Actor. And then it offered a cell phone number. It was curious that an actor’s card didn’t have his website and résumé listed.

      She thought about calling him, then decided to wait until she’d seen the show. She might be a novice Keeper, but she was going to have to be strong and prove that she could be as effective as her father.

      Because she was very afraid that there was already a vampire on the rampage in L.A.

      Brodie sat at his desk at the station, reading over the files on his desk.

      The first body had been discovered three weeks ago at the bottom of the molding pool at an abandoned house off Hollywood and Vine—the owner had gone into foreclosure and no enterprising real estate mogul had as yet snapped up the place. The victim, who was in his twenties, remained unidentified, despite the fact that they’d combed through missing person reports from across the country. Of course, he’d been missing his fingers and though the morgue had taken dental impressions, they were worthless when there were no records with which to compare them.

      The dead man must have had СКАЧАТЬ