Nightwalker Read online

  Seconds before her bumper reached them, they leaped aside.

  A fist came out of nowhere and slammed through the driver’s side window.

  Glass flew and rained down on Takala. A gust of wind picked up the photo and address and blew it out the busted window before Takala could catch it.

  She cursed, whipped around and stared into the pink, lizardlike eyes of the person who’d broken her window. The creature looked female, but not all human. Her hair was whitish green, stubbly. A green, sticky ooze covered lips that were so wide they looked like a distorted image in a funhouse mirror. She wore a black jumpsuit designed so that the sticky proboscis that jutted from her belly could pop out unencumbered. It looked like a third hand but with suction cups for fingers. She clung to the car by it, her supple body crouched there like a fly on flypaper. The creature smiled; then her long, grotesque tongue flicked out.

  Takala’s cheek stung as the creature’s hands grabbed her neck.

  Takala slammed on the brakes, gasping, “Back off, Freakzilla.”

  The shifter’s sticky fingers stretched like rubber bands, her sharp nails digging into Takala’s neck. “Who you calling a freak?” The woman’s long tongue flipped out and burned Takala’s forehead this time.

  Takala could take a lot of two-skins, but gecko shifters just plain grossed her out; so did the little talking green guy on the insurance commercials. But this one was real and had broken her car window and was trying to strangle her.

  “Okay, I warned you,” Takala gasped past the pressure on her neck. Then she elbowed the shifter in the face.

  The blow sent the freak rocketing from the car window. The gecko two-skin hit a cement birdbath with a loud high-pitched squeal.

  If Takala had been a normal woman, she felt certain the gecko shifter’s gluey body wouldn’t have budged. But Takala had the strength of twenty men. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been fast enough, and the shifter had raked her reptilian claws across Takala’s neck.

  “Oooh! Gross.” Takala grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and wiped the sticky green saliva from her burning cheek, then moved to the bloody claw marks on her neck. That’s when she saw Lilly struggling with Houdini.

  Abruptly, Lilly’s body vibrated into a yellow throbbing orb. She spun out of his grasp and leaped straight through his body like a ghost. When she passed through and out on the other side, Houdini staggered and collapsed.

  The atoms of Lilly’s body expanded like a rubber balloon, stretching her features into a grotesque ball. Then she blew a cloud of black mist from her mouth, and her body shrunk to normal size again. The dark energy funneled into a small tornado above her head. Then it headed back for Houdini’s body.

  Takala had overheard forbidden whispered snippets of conversation among her aunts and her grandmother where they had spoken about her mother’s power. Skye was a spirit eater, capable of draining the energy from supernatural beings and temporarily paralyzing them. Takala’s tribe, the Patomani Indians, had a name for the power: egtonha. The power would have been invaluable to an agent. Was this truly her mother?

  Takala floored the accelerator, crashed over a pretty picket fence, and skidded to a stop near Lilly, barely missing the downed Houdini. She motioned for Lilly to hop in.

  The energy reentered Houdini, and he staggered to his feet. In seconds, he’d gain his full power back.

  Lilly seemed to realize this, her gaze shifting between the two Supes coming for her, Houdini, and Takala. Then she leaped inside Takala’s car—the least of the three evils.

  Takala heard Houdini’s icy warning. “You’re helping a killer. You’ll regret—”

  Lilly slammed the door, cutting off his words. She looked over at Takala and yelled, “Drive.”

  Takala floored it, taking out the other side of the fence and a flower bed. They hopped the curve and sped down the street.

  Lilly said, “He set me up and wants me dead. Do you?”

  “Nope. I’m riding the white horse at the moment.” Honestly, she didn’t know whom to trust. Houdini or the woman sitting beside her. Was Lilly a killer as he’d said?

  “Thanks.” Lilly straightened the lapels of her cashmere jacket in a fussy manner. “Such a mess, isn’t it?”

  Takala smelled the acrid scent of sulfur and magic on Lilly Smith as she said, “That’s an under statement.”

  Striker felt the power forging a path through his body. He writhed and shook, knowing how it felt to be burned at the stake. He rarely if ever found himself vulnerable, but this was one of those moments. If it had been night, he would have been too strong for Culler to absorb his power. But it was morning, and the sun had drained some of his strength. Not even the tech-support guys at B.O.S.P. could come up with a solution to block that phenomenon. But he still had half of his powers. Culler and her friend would not get away. Not if he could help it.

  When he could speak and move again, he rose and sniffed the air. He scented blood, human blood. The predatory side of him could detect the scent of blood from miles away. Not your typical brand, either. This was an enticing smell, different. Too aromatic and potent. The newcomer’s blood. He felt his bloodlust stirring—a craving he was certain he had mastered, until a second ago. He felt his world shifting a little out of kilter, and he clenched his jaw in irritation.

  He barked at the two B.O.S.P. agents, “Bring in the cleaners, then dispose of this mess.” He motioned to the broken fence pickets and tire tracks running through the yards and the next-door neighbors peeking out the window. Cleaners erased the memories of humans and put the world back together in their ordered little universe. There were many types of cleaners in the supernatural world. Those who utilized dark magic caused adverse effects like strokes and Alzheimer’s. B.O.S.P. employed cleaners who were trained to use crystal erasers, the only safe type, that actually altered the atomic particles that made up human memory. “And find out who that woman helping her is,” he added, narrowing his eyes at the street they had disappeared down.

  Tongue looked over at Vaughn, a new recruit. He was so new, no one but Striker knew his code name. “You get the license?” she asked.

  Vaughn looked lost and shrugged.

  Tongue rolled her lizard eyes. “That’s a fallen angel for you.”

  “D-e-t-e-c-t 1,” Striker said, his tone turning soft and menacing, a sure sign he was losing patience with incompetence. His gaze raked both the agents, and that was enough of a reprimand.

  They instantly snapped to attention.

  Striker looked at them, but his mind was on the license plate, clear in his memory as the image of the driver. Long wavy ginger hair with streaks of golden blond running through it. One green eye and one blue. Dangly hoop earrings. Too much eye makeup and lipstick. Arrogant saucy expression. Didn’t seem to show an ounce of fear. Something about her seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her. One thing was certain: if she got in his way again, she’d become a casualty. Striker smelled the enticing aroma of her blood emanating from Tongue’s fingernails, and he clenched his fists.

  “She ain’t all human, boss,” Tongue said, licking the green sheen off her plump lips as if tasting the woman.

  “Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” Striker found himself unpleasantly annoyed that Tongue could taste the woman. “Find out who she is and if she’s working for Raithe, while I track them.” He turned, and his body morphed into a sheet of black mist. When his essence disappeared, a loud clap of thunder followed.

  Tongue and her partner looked at each other. Vaughn spoke first. “Man, he’s provoked. Never seen him upset.”

  “Just be glad he’s not mad at you.” Tongue glowered at him, then pulled out a cell phone.

  Chapter 3

  Takala checked her mirrors for a tail. Clear so far. She had been forced to stop at a service station and find a quick fix for the driver’s side window. They had used Mylar plastic and duct tape. At least it kept out some of the cold air, but the flapping of the plastic was driving her crazy. Takala had
the heater going full blast, though Lilly Smith was hunched in a ball as if she was cold.

  Takala had found a scarf in her glove compartment and covered the bleeding scratches on her neck. She adjusted it now, still feeling the gecko cretin’s nails gouging her skin. If only she had some peroxide and antibiotic ointment. That would have to wait. She grimaced at the neon-pink scarf, but it went okay with her black jeans and black coat. And the blood spots on the scarf actually looked as if they had been added by the designer. For having been attacked, she didn’t look half-bad. Wounded or not, she cared about her appearance.

  Takala settled back in the driver’s seat, aware of the uncomfortable silence between her and Lilly Smith. She felt Lilly’s keen eyes studying her. Finally Takala said, “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “So, where we going?”

  “The Richmond airport,” Lilly said, uncertainty in the reply.

  “Sure.” Takala nodded to assure Lilly Smith that she was okay with the drive.

  “And thank you. I appreciate your help. They would have killed me back there.”

  “No problem.”

  Lilly took Takala’s measure for a long, uncomfortable moment, something in her shrewd blue eyes that hid more than just mere intelligence. “You’re a brave girl. You don’t seem afraid, even after all you’ve seen.”

  “I’m not. Supernatural stuff doesn’t bother me.”

  “If you stay with me, you might be more than bothered.”

  “I’m used to living on the edge.”

  “Really.” Lilly glanced at Takala as if she had no idea what danger was. She lifted her chin a few inches in a challenging, almost condescending way, the smug smile never leaving her lips.

  “I’m a detective.” Takala swallowed her indignation, and it tasted bitter in her throat.

  “A good one, I hope.”

  “I’ve stayed alive this long.”

  “You look young to me.”

  “I’ve been in the business for six years.”

  “Run a lot of background checks, do you?”

  “No, I don’t like the research end. I’m more hands-on.”

  Lilly shot her an I-guess-you’ll-do-in-a-pinch look.

  No matter how hard she tried, her dislike for this woman was growing like a cancer in her gut. She felt as if she were being interviewed for a job and found lacking. Do a stranger a favor, and that’s how they repay you.

  Stranger or not, was she really related to this woman? The verdict was still out, and she wanted to keep it that way. Two things Takala knew: Lilly Smith had trust issues, and she had a hard time feeling obligated to anyone. Not to mention she wasn’t very likable. Takala quickly changed the subject. “Who were those goons?”

  “Unfortunately, State Department agents.”

  So Lilly Smith actually worked for the State Department. One point for Blake. “When did the State Department start hiring paranormal hit squads?” Takala asked, playing along.

  “I work—or shall I say worked—for a branch of the State Department….” Lilly paused as if weighing something, then said, “What the hell, I’ll tell you. It’s called B.O.S.P. Ever heard of it?”

  Takala knew of B.O.S.P. Fala’s husband, Stephen Winter, a warlock, used to work as an agent there, but she didn’t know if she wanted Lilly Smith to know that, so she lied and said, “No, I haven’t.”

  “Not surprised. Most people haven’t. They try to keep all humans in the dark about what goes on right under their noses. They’d probably have congressional hearings for the next century if they found out about all the paranormal activities in government.”

  “The human zeitgeist can’t handle it.”

  “But they got that television series, Supernatural, pretty on the mark.” Lilly laughed softly, a detectable forced note in her voice.

  Lilly seemed to work hard at being sociable. Was this just her standoffish personality? Takala had hoped to find something warm in her, but as yet she hadn’t. “Sam’s my favorite,” she said flatly.

  “Dean’s mine. So hunky, with that edge of evil.”

  Okay, she might just have disagreed with her own mother for the first time. She didn’t know how she felt about that, so she lapsed into silence.

  Lilly broke it. “That strength of yours is pretty impressive—” she considered Takala, her eyes sparkling like shards of blue glass “—but you seem human enough to me.”

  “I am, in basics.” Takala turned the conversation back to Lilly. “So, you can inhale the powers of other creatures. Pretty interesting.”

  “Only for a few moments. Too bad I can’t keep them.” A power-hungry glint shifted in Lilly’s eyes.

  A cold chill gripped Takala. This woman could be her mother, but Takala didn’t know if she liked her or trusted her. “Why were those agents after you?”

  “They want me dead.”

  “Why?”

  “I was working undercover for them. Some agents got killed, and I was set up to take the fall for it.”

  “Know who set you up?”

  “Nightwalker.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The vamp who just attacked me.”

  Houdini. Nightwalker. A vampire. The image seemed to fit. “Why’d he set you up?”

  “He must have wanted me out of the picture.”

  “He’d kill his own men just to take you out?”

  “You sound skeptical. Believe me, he’s capable of a lot worse.”

  Takala didn’t know if Lilly’s story was credible. Why not just go after Lilly? Why kill your own men? None of it seemed practical, but then a lot went on in classified government agencies that would probably make her hair stand on end. Not until Fala hooked up with Stephen had Takala found out that witches had infiltrated government positions. Some duly elected officials were possessed by demons. Others were just plain demons. Shifters, too. You name it, and you could find all manner of paranormal creatures in high places. And people thought Watergate was bad.

  This Nightwalker vamp could be a real mean dude with limitless power to back him up. She knew little about vampires, other than the ones she’d dealt with in her line of work. Her clients were mostly human with human problems. Occasionally she was hired to protect women from a stalker, who sometimes turned out to be a vampire. She had helped Fala, her sister, the Guardian, the most powerful shaman on the earth, take out a few evil vampires and their dens. Mostly, though, vampires operated below the radar and stayed to themselves. Takala was glad she’d never come up against this Nightwalker vamp. She wondered why Stephen had never spoken of him. When she had some alone time, she’d have to call Fala and Stephen and get the skinny on Nightwalker.

  “This Nightwalker dude must be a badass,” Takala said. “Never seen a vamp out in daylight. Thought they had to sleep during the day.”

  “This one’s unusually old and powerful. Sunlight only weakens him.” Lilly’s brows met in a frown, and she said, “So, how is it you showed up when you did? You’re not working for B.O.S.P., are you?” Her eyes narrowed to slits as she studied Takala.

  Takala took her attention off the road long enough to stare squarely into Lilly’s eyes. Then she lied with ease. “I was casing a house—cheating husband.” Takala shrugged nonchalantly. “Saw you were in trouble, so I helped.”

  “I’ve ruined your case.”

  “Nothing I can’t rectify. He’ll probably be there for a while anyway. He’s a bigamist.”

  Lilly chewed that over for a moment, then said, “I don’t even know your name.”

  Takala supplied her usual bogus moniker. “Tonya Richter.”

  Lilly considered her a moment as if wondering if that was Takala’s real name. Then she said, “I’m Lilly Smith.”

  Only one of her aliases. Takala grinned and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  Lilly bobbed her head in kind. “Since I’ve disturbed your case, you have to let me compensate you.”

  “No big deal.”

  “I don’t
like owing people.” Lilly thought a moment, the red of her lipstick making her mouth gleam as if it had been doused in shellac. “How does five hundred sound for your trouble?”

  Takala had to find a way to keep Lilly near her. The sign for Interstate 95 appeared, and she hopped onto the highway to Richmond. Finally she said, “I don’t want to take money I haven’t earned. What about you hire me for protection?”

  “I don’t know.” Lilly tapped her painted red nails on her arm and stared at the traffic ahead of them. “You might end up being more trouble than you’re worth.”

  “I saved your life, didn’t I?” Takala sounded as insulted as she felt by this woman’s lack of trust.

  When Lilly didn’t say anything right away, and before she could come up with a reason to say no, Takala said, “I could use the work.” She tried to sound more desperate than greedy.

  “The economy. It’s killing everybody.” Lilly shook her head in disgust. “I guess I can hire you. If it doesn’t work out, then you’re gone. And if you’ve lied to me about being a B.O.S.P agent, you’ll regret it.”

  Takala ground her jaw together and passed a Corolla blocking her way. Then she said, “Let’s get one thing straight here. I’m not lying, and I don’t appreciate your threats.”

  “Noted.” A superior grin toyed with the curves of her red lips. “You must understand that in my line of work I can trust no one.”

  “I get that.”

  Her tone turned dismissive and businesslike. “I’ll only need your services until I get safely to France—if that long.”

  “Okay. I usually get a hundred dollars a day for expenses, but I’ll knock it back to fifty if you pay for my ticket.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  This was a no-brainer. Takala didn’t have any pending cases at the moment. In fact, a mob boss had tried to abduct her a month ago for testifying in court against him. His thugs had almost killed her. If Fala, her older sister, hadn’t used her healing powers, Takala would be dead. She could also spend time with Lilly and see if she really was a murderer, much less someone she could even like.