Vampire Babylon - Midnight Reign Part 9

In a way, Dawn pitied the woman for having no imagination. People who killed could also be really great at covering it up. People weren't always who they seemed to be-especially in L.A.

Speaking of which...Who else had Lee met in this town? Did he have any friends who were also in the Underground?

"Mrs. Tomlinson," she asked, "did he hang out with anyone else after his roomies left, any people this last roommate might have mentioned in particular?"

Coral opened her mouth to answer, but Marg cut her off.

"Not really." The cigarette bobbed with her tight words.

"Mom's right," Lane added, obviously trying to get this interview back to the whitewash job it was supposed to be. "The fact that my brother could carry on a dedicated relations.h.i.+p makes it obvious that he functioned normally. Even if Lee dressed weird, he wasn't that different. He never even hurt a bird when he was a kid. He didn't have that in him."

Ca.s.sie was clutching the sides of her chair, staring at her mother.

And that made Dawn all the more curious.

"Are the cops aware of this lover?" Breisi asked, a polite bulldog after the real story.

"I guess they will be." Marg plucked the still unlit ciggie out of her mouth, holding it like a security blanket to cling to.

Herb's was still waiting like a forbidden goodie in his lap.

All the siblings were shooting mommy dearest the death eye, and she frowned at them, as if asking what she'd done wrong.

Had she revealed something she wasn't supposed to?

There was meat here, all right. Breisi kept scribbling, so Dawn knew it.

And they obviously weren't the only ones. Herb finally stood to his full height, thin as a matchstick. The cigarette fell to the carpet, and he absently stepped on it while moving toward the door, crus.h.i.+ng tobacco into the s.h.a.g threads. Lane followed, then Ca.s.sie.

The interview was over.

"How about those pictures?" Marg said, as if the room hadn't just suffered a tiny mental explosion.

Breisi nodded cordially, but Dawn could still sense her disappointment.When Herb opened the door, cloud-hued gray light slithered into the room. Head down, Ca.s.sie was the first to rush outside.

On the way to the cactus outside the lobby, Dawn saw that Breisi had written something else on her pad: LET'S FIND LOVER.

MAYBE LEE SHARED SOMETHING WITH HER?.

"Exactly," Dawn said so only Breisi could hear.

Mrs. Tomlinson was the only person who agreed to pose, but the rest of the family had obviously followed her to make sure she kept her mouth shut. As the matron put on a suitably sad expression-one tailor-made for the grieving mother of a man wrongly accused-Marg sauntered over to Dawn.

"You have enough for a good story?" she asked, not seeming to mind the stench of garlic on Dawn's skin.

"Well, we'd like more. But we can do a decent human-interest piece." She hoped she sounded like a real reporter.

"You might wanna take Mom's comments with a pinch of salt. She ain't altogether here. Know what I mean?"

"I understand. These are hard times."

This acting c.r.a.p was totally easy. If Dawn wasn't morally opposed to actually being an "actress," she might even be dumb enough to fall into the sparkling lure of it.

If she hadn't grown up in L.A. knowing better.

Marg put the dead cigarette between her lips again. "It'd be real nice if you respected Lee's private love life and stuck to a story about how much his family supports him. That's why we invited you here. That's all we came here for-to buck up little Lee."

At the mention of the lover, Ca.s.sie had wandered over. Her face was mottled. Boy, was Mama going to get an earful from this daughter later.

Dawn thought how she'd react in the same situation, chiding a mother who'd done wrong. But she couldn't dredge up a connecting emotion. It sent a split of pain through her chest, reminding her of why she'd never wanted to need a mom anyway.

Swallowing away the ache, Dawn joined the daughters in watching Coral adjust her blouse, then run a finger around her mouth to absently clear away stray lipstick.

"So, now that we're done here..." Marg said, changing the subject. "You know any hot spots?"

Hot spots? Was she kidding? She was asking about places to party? Wow, Marg was definitely in mourning.

"What kind of action are you looking for?" Dawn asked.

"Like places the celebrities hang out."

Star s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g. G.o.d. Dawn wanted to tell Marg the reality of Tinseltown: it was all fake. From the limos driving bankrupt stars around, to the glossy magazines that crowed about family-oriented producers who held orgies in their second, off-limits mansions, Hollywood was a lie. Not even Marg would be able to find the fantasy of it if she knew everything.

"Marg," Ca.s.sie said.

The woman held up her ciggie as she spread her hands. "You don't wanna know, too?"

Her sister presented her back and left. Marg didn't seem to care much as she turned to Dawn again.

"The thing is," Dawn began, "once the public knows where the celebrities hang out, they kind of never go there again. Most of the really big stars enjoy their privacy, unless they're in the mood for PR."

"That's what I'm talkin' about. Where do they show up?"

Before Dawn could answer, she was saved by what looked to be a boy in a back brace dressed in a striped s.h.i.+rt and jeans. He'd pulled a baseball cap down so low his face was barely visible. Just above the bill, the sign of the cross blazed in full glory. He was carrying a bucket and handing out candy bars attached to small Bibles.

"Peace and love," Kiko was saying in a modulated, higher kid voice as he gave each Tomlinson a gift, holding their hands in the process. He was so anxious to get readings this time out that he'd sacrificed the patch of hair beneath his lower lip, shaving it off so he would look years younger.

Lingering over every touch, especially Coral's, Kiko made his rounds, then disappeared behind the motel. He'd meet the team at the SUV.

"They let their kids Bible-thump out here without parents around?" Marg asked, staring at the tiny book in her hand.

Dawn shrugged. "L.A. kids get geriatric when they're, like, five."

The other woman shook her head. "Poor little cripple boy. He doesn't even have a good mom."

Minutes later, the photo session was completed, but Breisi attempted to wheedle a few more rounds of question-and-answer from the Tomlinsons. Lane just gave her a knowing grin, then personally escorted his mother back to the room. The rest of the family trailed behind.

Ultimately, Lane was the last one in and, as he closed the door behind them all, Dawn caught a sincere glint of sadness in his gaze.

It struck her that his emotion seemed much less dramatic than his own mother's.

Wasting no time, Breisi and Dawn rushed down the street to the SUV, where Kiko had already crawled into the backseat.

Wasn't he even going to call shotgun?

The women climbed in, too, locking the doors. Breisi flicked on a dashboard switch that allowed The Voice to listen in from wherever he might be.

Even though he wasn't here, his presence felt real and solid, a perpetual thrum in Dawn's body.

"What did you get?" Breisi asked Kiko.

The psychic didn't answer, not verbally anyway. Instead, he reached out to Dawn. She was wearing one of Frank's sleeveless T's under her blouse, and she knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Slipping the white blouse off of her shoulder, she allowed him to touch the unders.h.i.+rt, allowed him to close his eyes and summon whatever nightmares Frank might be having today.

But when Kiko's mouth twitched, she knew it was out of frustration. He wasn't getting anything, and that meant...

"No readings from the Tomlinsons," she said.

Almost out of desperation, he darted his hand out to touch the s.h.i.+rt again, but Dawn grabbed his wrist.

"I just need to concentrate more," he said, voice strangled. "Please."

"Kiko," Breisi said, taking his arm from Dawn. "Don't worry. It'll all come back."

"When? My talents are as useless as-" He stopped, grabbed his arm from Breisi, and fell back to the seat, where he stared out the window.

Dawn could've finished his sentence for him. His talents were as useless as his body.

Pressure gathered behind her eyes. s.h.i.+t.

Without another word about Kiko's difficulties-because what could they say?-Breisi started the engine and the briefing. They talked about how at least they knew that the Tomlinsons weren't low-level vampires since they hadn't reacted to Kiko's cross on the hat or the blessed Bibles. The team touched on their impressions of the family, too. Breisi's instincts matched each one of Dawn's, and Dawn wondered what the h.e.l.l was going on that she all of a sudden wasn't arguing with the lab rat every second of the day.

"Back at the house, I'll contact these old roommates of Lee's," Breisi said. "I would especially like to get in touch with the one who knew about the lover."

Dawn was watching out the window as they drove back up to the Hills. Palm trees swished by, mocking the clouds. In the side mirror, she saw a hint of movement, and her gaze fixed there.

Kiko. His hand had arched up to his mouth to pop something into it.

Dawn's gaze went red. "You really need one of those?"

He hesitated, like he was mortified to have been caught.

She waited, not letting him off the hook.

Finally, he chuffed. "My painkillers are safer than yours any day. So back off, okay?"

She should've been p.i.s.sed about his reference to her habit of using s.e.x for a cure-all. It was a weapon in her personal war against Eva, a way to make Dawn feel like she was just as attractive, even if it was only temporary.

With all her effort, she did back off, knowing he wasn't in a receptive mood. She kept her eye on him though, and he d.a.m.ned well knew it.

After they parked, then walked up the path leading to the Black Dahlia dollhouse, UV lights flooded the Gothic entrance, emphasizing the iron cross hanging over the doorway. Once inside, none of them talked, just went their separate ways. Kiko headed for a bed, where he could get the rest he was required to take each day, whether he wanted it or not. Tomorrow, he had a therapy appointment, but before then, Dawn was going to talk to his counselor about those pills.

In the meantime, Breisi veered toward the huge wooden door off the parlor. She unlocked it, making Dawn wonder, once again, just what was behind the barrier. Previously, she'd seen blue lights, heard a metallic buzzing. Breisi guarded the sanctuary like her life depended on it, and every time she got all secretive, Dawn got even more curious.

With a squirrelly look, Breisi disappeared into the dungeon, leaving Dawn alone.

h.e.l.l. What to do?

She decided to head up to the computer room to see if she could research any info about Lee's roomies and then dial up Kiko's keepers to ask about his meds.

With a sigh, she climbed the stairs, gradually consumed by the dimness of the upper story. The eerie silence was like perpetual twilight, an unexplained place between all the worlds cras.h.i.+ng in on her daily.

As always, she came to the first portrait hanging on the wall. A desert spanned the canvas: sandy, desolate, warm in its emptiness. Barely glancing at it, she began to pa.s.s by on her way to the computers.

But when the picture suddenly filled with the image of a beautiful woman, Dawn froze.

NINE.

THE FRIENDS.

G AZE locked on the portrait, Dawn held her breath while the woman formed into a vision. It was like an invisible paintbrush was swiping over the canvas, breathing jasmine-scented life into the vivid texture: a golden turban against sand, darkly slanted eyes against brown skin, bare shoulders against the falling collar of a silken robe.

One of the Friends had just returned home.

Pressing her fingertips against the rough oils of the woman's neck, Dawn found a pulse, as if she could actually absorb energy from the paint itself. Then...something else.

The sibilant vibration of a laugh, a sigh.

She yanked her fingers back. What the h.e.l.l?

All the while, the woman in the painting stared at her, watching in silent a.s.sessment, unmoving in her dreamy-eyed rest.

From the end of the hall, the door to The Voice's office gasped open. It wasn't really the sound of it that attracted Dawn-it was the gape of its movement, the s.h.i.+ft in balance and temperature. She glanced sidelong at the door, thinking in the back of her mind that it resembled the vertical slit of a reptile's gaze, one that fixed on her with night-prowling intention.

A soft giggle floated from that room, or maybe from over Dawn's head, or...

She glanced at the portrait again.

From there?

She ran her palms down the intricate wooden frame, not knowing what she was searching for. Sound devices planted just to screw with her? Doubtful. But she couldn't stand here, listening as another laugh danced around her.