The Becoming

"There's a sergeant in our command. I don't know who he answers to. We just let him know when we've spotted a vamp and he mobilizes the team."

"Like the other night?"

He nods. “Just lucked into that one.” He pauses, eyeing me. “Or maybe not."

"Let's get back to that doctor. You must have heard something else. Where does he live?"

"North County, I think. Or maybe La Jolla. Where do most doctor's live?"

Wide playing field and a whole lot of doctors. North County covers a lot of territory.

I turn away from Lawson and retreat a little into the shadows to think. Donaldson was telling me the truth in Beso de la Muerte .

The fire and David's kidnapping had nothing to do with him. So why was he killed?

I turn my face back to Lawson. “You guys have an international chapter in Mexico?"

"What?"

"That's where Donaldson was killed."

He looks supremely ambivalent. “Could be. We only know the other three members of our team. That way, if we're caught, we can't give up anyone else."

Seeing how Lawson cracked under the proper persuasion, that makes sense.

"Of course,” he continues, “It could have been a family member of one of his victims."

"Who knew he was a vampire and where to find him? How likely is that?"

He looks at me for a moment. “How long have you been a vampire anyway?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Something seems to dawn on Lawson. “Not very long, I'd say. First, you let me get you into the squad car without a fight. Now you're asking questions only a novice would ask."

A novice? It's that obvious? “I know enough about being a vampire,” I say menacingly, “to know what to do with an insolent neck when I see one."

But that gets a smirk. “You should have told me the other night. Maybe I would have cut you some slack.” He tilts his head as though trying to bring something to mind. “I know who you are. You're the one Donaldson let get away. You must be."

They know about that, too? “Where do you get your information?"

"I told you, confidential informants."

"And how would the family of one of Donaldson's victims know that he was a vampire?"

"Anybody can find out anything for the right price."

"From whom?"

"If you want something bad enough, there's always a way."

"Anymore proverbs you want to mangle before you give me a straight answer?"

"There are people out there who deal in information like some deal in drugs. I can't give you a name."

None of this helps David. Impatience is quickly morphing into anger, my vampire temper rising. Lawson senses the change.

"I've told you all I know. Your partner was taken by a vamp doctor—"

"What?"

"A vamp doctor. I told you. I don't know why or where he's being held."

My heart starts pounding. “You didn't say it was a vamp doctor who took David. You just said it was a doctor."

He shakes his head. “No. I'm sure I told you it was a vamp doctor. A big wig—"

But I don't hear another word he says.

I decide to save time by releasing Lawson right outside the seashell shop. I uncuff him as we get to the top of the stairs.

The construction crew is starting to wander back from lunch, and we get a few strange looks as we appear from the cave.

Especially Lawson, whose clothes are stained and torn from our tussle down below.

One of the hardhats glares at us. “Can't you folks read? No Admittance. It's dangerous down there."

I flash the badge. “Official police business."

He grunts and moves away, mumbling, “More like monkey business from the looks of you two."

Lawson is rubbing at his wrists. “What about my wallet?"

But I've already slipped it back into my belt. “I think I'll keep this as a souvenir."

"How am I supposed to explain losing my badge?"

"I don't care."

He stares at me a minute, decides it's useless to argue, and starts to open the car door.

I cut behind him and slam it shut. “This is as far as you go."

He looks like he can't believe what I just said. “You're leaving me here? Like this?” He sweeps a hand down his ruined clothes.

“How am I suppose to get home?"

He's right. I should at least help him get home. I fish the wallet back out of my pocket, take the currency and credit cards from it, and hold those out. “Here. I don't need these."

He snatches them out of my hand. “Thanks for nothing."

But his sarcasm is lost on me. I'm already in the Explorer and cranking it over. I roll down the passenger side window and lean toward him. “One more thing. If you breathe a word of this, I'll come back for you."

This time he looks as if he believes me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A vamp doctor has David.

Nothing Lawson could have said rocks me like that one statement.

The implication is clear. My rational mind tells me that with all the vampires in San Diego, Avery may not be the only doctor.

But as far as I know, he's the only one who can co

Why would Avery kidnap David? And if he did, is he also responsible for the fire?

None of this makes sense.

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It's almost two in the afternoon. Avery said he'd be at the hospital until six. At least I'll have some time to search the house before he returns.

Avery.

My heart lies heavy in my chest. I thought we had a bond. More than the sex and blood thing. He appeared to be helping me—first in finding Donaldson and then, David. Otherwise, what was the point of Beso de la Muerte ?

Unless he thought I'd be killed there, too.

Could I really have been so wrong about him?

The driveway is empty when I pull up. This time, I drive around back, to the garage area. It's a stone structure, like the house, with three heavy iron doors to mark parking pads. I press a remote in the Explorer and one of the doors glides up. I pull the car inside and close it behind me.

There's one other vehicle inside—a restored Thunderbird from the 60's. The top is down and the tuck and roll upholstery shines in the overhead light. I run a finger over the leather, wondering if someone who could so lovingly restore a beautiful automobile like this be monster enough to put me in this much pain.

I check the garage out quickly. There are no trap doors leading underground, no hidden loft areas above. If David is somewhere on the premises, it's got to be in the house.

There's a covered portico leading from the garage to the back door. In case the housekeeper is still inside, I ring the bell. I think I remember Avery saying she only comes in the mornings and when no one answers, I let myself in.

It's so quiet. I find myself tiptoeing from one room to the other. On the ground floor, there's the kitchen, dining room, library, living room. I can't find any other outside doors except the ones that lead to the balcony and deck areas and the front door off the foyer.

There's no basement door, either, in spite of his joke this morning about keeping servants down below to drain their blood.

With a sick feeling, I find myself questioning if it was a joke. I almost retch at the thought that I might have been drinking David's blood. But a stronger, more virulent feeling overtakes the nausea. If Avery fed me David's blood, I'll kill him.

I've only been in two rooms upstairs, Avery's bedroom and the guestroom where Avery put my things. There are four other bedrooms up here, all expensively furnished in antiques, all tastefully appointed with drapes and carpets in muted earth tones. None of them look as if they've been used recently. In fact, all the closets are bare, the drawers empty. It's like walking through a designer showcase. Even the pictures on the dressers are fake—pretty frames with dime store photographs.