Retribution

“Did he say anything else?”

“Only a name,” Sandra answers. “Belinda Burke.”

Only a name. My insides recoil.

He wasn’t lying about going away. He was lying about what he was going to do. He was going after Belinda Burke, a powerful witch who killed an i

We’d agreed to go after her together. I have my own powerful reasons for exacting revenge. Culebra knew that.

Why wouldn’t he tell me?

Accepting the fact that he didn’t want my help is bad enough. Worse yet is the realization that if Culebra found her, what he is suffering from is likely no human illness at all. It’s the result of a spell. Burke practices black magic. Modern medicine will be useless against it.

The doctor has been listening to Culebra’s heart through a stethoscope. He is frowning and shaking his head. When he catches my eye, he says, “His heartbeat is erratic. I don’t know how long he can last.”

His words galvanize me into action. I grab my cell phone. “I know someone who can help.”

Daniel Frey picks up on the second ring. He’s a teacher and when I explain why I’m calling, he doesn’t berate me for calling him at school or interrupting his class. He simply asks to speak with the doctor.

I hand the phone to the doctor and listen as he describes Culebra’s symptoms to Frey. When he’s finished, he gives the phone back to me.

Frey says, “I have to line up a substitute. Then I’ll take a cab home and get what I need. Can you pick me up in ninety minutes?” Frey doesn’t drive.

“I’ll be there.”

I’ve learned a lot since becoming vampire. One of the most surprising is how close -knit and supportive the supernatural community is when it comes to caring for its own. There are exceptions, Williams and his animosity toward me for one. And yet, even he came to Beso de la Muerte to warn me about the vampire slayers. I’m sure he regrets it now.

So when I pull up, I’m not shocked to find Daniel Frey already waiting, standing at the gate to his condo unit. He’s dressed in jeans, a Tshirt. He’s fortysomething, has salt-and-pepper hair, a good smile, a lean build. He’s carrying two large tote bags. He lays them carefully on the backseat, then joins me in the front.

“Tell me,” he says without preamble. “Has there been any change?”

I gun away from the curb and fill him in. I also tell him who and what I believe is responsible.

Frey, a shape-shifter like Culebra, was with me when we had our run in with Burke. In fact, she shot him and came close to killing him.

He has an extensive library of books on the supernatural. I called him because I know that if he doesn ’t have an idea himself how to help Culebra, he will know which book to consult.

He listens carefully, then reaches into the backseat and does pull a book from one of the totes.

“I can’t reverse the spell,” he says, thumbing pages. “But I can arrest the symptoms. For a while.”

“How can we break it?”

“We can’t. Only another witch can.”

Shit. How do I find another witch?

Frey is still looking through his book. Unlike Culebra, I can’t read his mind. I broke our psychic co

I give him a few minutes before I ask, “What do you think?”

He releases a breath. “I think we’d better find a witch.”

Culebra didn’t tell me where he was going. When we met yesterday he had papers with him. Are they at the bar? Did he tell Sandra? I remember seeing a map but I was too aggravated at the time to take note of what it was for. Could he have marked his destination? Can I retrace his trail back to Burke?

I’ll have to ask Sandra if Culebra had anything with him when he reappeared in Beso de la Muerte.

If not . . . “How do we do that?” I ask. “Where do I find a witch?”

Frey throws me a sideways glance and says, “Go see Williams.”

My shoulders bunch. “Why?”

“Because he has witches on his payroll. You should know that.”

Shit again. I don’t tell Frey about my last meeting with Williams. Besides, what difference does it make? Saving Culebra is the important thing. If I have to see Williams to help him, I’ll see Williams.

As soon as we’re back at Culebra’s bedside, Frey gets to work. He’s brought potions and candles and some kind of crystal that he shatters against the floor and places in fragments around the cot.

As he sets up, I turn to Sandra. “Did Culebra have anything with him when he got back last night? Papers? A map?”

She shakes her head. “No. He had nothing with him.”

The sound of Frey’s voice draws us both to Culebra’s bedside. He’s mumbling an incantation in a language I don’t understand. As he speaks the words, the pressure in my own chest subsides. After a few minutes, he motions for the doctor to check Culebra’s heart.

The doctor listens, then nods. “Much better. How long can it hold?”

Frey slumps into a seat beside the cot. “As long as Burke doesn’t realize what we’ve done,” he says. “When she does, she’ll adjust the magic and I’ll have to start the counterspell all over again.”

I’ve been so intent on Culebra, I hadn’t noticed the change in Frey. His face is pale, drawn.

“Are you going to be all right?” I ask.

“Magic always exacts a price,” he says. His hands tremble in his lap. He interlocks his fingers and looks up at me. “Go see Williams.

Find us a witch.”

“I don’t think I should leave you.”

Frey shakes his head. “I’ll be all right. The sooner you get to Williams, the better.”

I search Frey’s face. I know he’s right. The way I left things with Williams yesterday, I doubt he’d take my phone call. He’ll want to see me grovel. And if that doesn’t do it and I need to persuade him to use his supernatural co

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

CHAPTER 10

AT LEAST I KNOW WHERE TO FIND WILLIAMS. Since he’s quit the human police force, he’s gone to work full-time for the supernatural one. His headquarters is underground in the middle of one of the country’s most popular tourist attractions, Balboa Park, in the middle of one of the most popular tourist destinations, San Diego.

I know because I used to come here as a Watcher. Back when I was learning what it meant to be vampire. Back when I thought Williams was a friend who had my best interest at heart. I wanted a mentor; he wanted an enforcer. Someone to help keep the supernatural bad guys in line. He thought I was perfect for the job. And his way might be easier—find a rogue and eliminate him—but at least what I do as a bounty hunter doesn’t involve being judge, jury and executioner.

It’s late in the afternoon and there are lots of people around. I still get a little nervous when I attempt to access the place, even though it’s protected by powerful magic. I don’t understand how it works, I probably wouldn’t be able to understand it if it were explained to me, but I’m standing across from The Natural History Museum and I take one step past a stone bench into some bushes and suddenly I ’m not visible to the throngs passing by on a sidewalk ten feet away.

I’ve disappeared. Through a veil that feels wet and cold against the skin.

The door in front of me is locked. I fish a big brass key out of the depths of my purse and fit it into the lock.

I turn it.

Nothing happens.

At first, I think I must have turned the key the wrong way so I try it again.

Nothing happens.

I pull the key back and examine it. It looks the same as it did the last time I used it. Why won’t it work now?

After the fourth unsuccessful attempt, a thought dawns on me. You need to be invited to access this place. Williams, in a fit of anger or resentment, may have revoked my invitation.