not at all politely what he knew about the weird things in the park that weren’t vampires.
When her pocket rang, Olympias discovered that Sara had thoughtfully tucked her cell phone into her sweatshirt jacket. It was an unlisted number known to one mortal and every Enforcer in the country. The Enforcers were instructed not to use it unless they had a strigoi-threatening emergency on their hands. Indirect forms of communication were so much easier to keep secret than a conversation on a cellular telephone. Enforcers were semiautonomous, very capable, and she was the one who usually called them with instructions. It kept on ringing, and Olympias was tempted not to answer. Olympias didn’t want to cope with a national emergency right now. But if Sara was in trouble with Andrew, she’d call for help. That must be why Sara slipped the phone into the jacket.
She pulled out the phone and flipped it open. “What?” The voice was not Sara’s. Olympias stood very still and listened. “Memphis?” she asked. “There’s an Enforcer in Nashville, but not in Memphis. Right. I see to—hold on, I’ve got another call on the other line.” She hated call waiting and made a mental note to tell Sara to get rid of it as she answered the other call. This caller wasn’t Sara, either. “How’d you get this number?” There was the old boys’ network, then there was the old girls’ network, and the caller was a very old girl indeed. Olympias listened to her for a few moments, dread growing, then said, “Yes, I know about the hotel opening in Las Vegas. Oh. That’s not good.” She looked around the park. She had no time for bunny hunting right now. “I’ll call you back. Right. I don’t have your number. Call me back in half an hour, on a landline.” She switched to the first caller. “Stay there. I’ll call you back.”
Olympias switched off the phone and called her dog to her. She had to get home and start the process of putting out a pair of serious fires. She would worry aboutlocal emergencies later—which seemed to be happening more and more these days.
“Memory doesn’t lie, but it does hallucinate. I hope,” Falconer muttered to himself as he made a careful search through the park.
“What?” the friend he’d brought with him asked.
“Nothing.” Falconer was looking for a particular tree. Though it was daylight, the place was thick with unnatural shadows, as if it didn’t want him to know it was here.
But he knew he was in the right place, though he couldn’t explain to his forensic scientist friend that his certainty came from the psychic residue of the Walkers, and not because this was where the attack had to have taken place. The thing was, he shouldn’t have forgotten where he’d been attacked. He hadn’t suffered any head trauma, and there was no logical excuse for him to have forgotten the existence of a park he passed on his walks all the time. When he’d come to his senses it had been like walking out a long, black tunnel, and he’d found himself standing stupidly in front of the door to his house.
Maybe he should forget the incident and move on, forget the weirdness the Walkers had encountered yesterday, and forget the man who might or might not be a vampire who showed up in visions and dreams when Falconer was looking for something else. Of course, if he were serious about dropping any investigation, he wouldn’t have called Russ Krantz from the FBI forensics lab and asked for a private crime scene investigation. Russ was ex-military, and he and Falconer went way back. Tight-assed as the Feds were, Russ hadn’t balked at the request, only at the early hour Falconer asked him to meet him. Falconer had placated him by bringing coffee and donuts. Now, as heat built and storm clouds loomed in the early morning sky, the two men ignored curious glances from runners on the park paths and methodically quartered the block-square area.
“Here,” Falconer called at the third tree he
When her pocket rang, Olympias discovered that Sara had thoughtfully tucked her cell phone into her sweatshirt jacket. It was an unlisted number known to one mortal and every Enforcer in the country. The Enforcers were instructed not to use it unless they had a strigoi-threatening emergency on their hands. Indirect forms of communication were so much easier to keep secret than a conversation on a cellular telephone. Enforcers were semiautonomous, very capable, and she was the one who usually called them with instructions. It kept on ringing, and Olympias was tempted not to answer. Olympias didn’t want to cope with a national emergency right now. But if Sara was in trouble with Andrew, she’d call for help. That must be why Sara slipped the phone into the jacket.
She pulled out the phone and flipped it open. “What?” The voice was not Sara’s. Olympias stood very still and listened. “Memphis?” she asked. “There’s an Enforcer in Nashville, but not in Memphis. Right. I see to—hold on, I’ve got another call on the other line.” She hated call waiting and made a mental note to tell Sara to get rid of it as she answered the other call. This caller wasn’t Sara, either. “How’d you get this number?” There was the old boys’ network, then there was the old girls’ network, and the caller was a very old girl indeed. Olympias listened to her for a few moments, dread growing, then said, “Yes, I know about the hotel opening in Las Vegas. Oh. That’s not good.” She looked around the park. She had no time for bunny hunting right now. “I’ll call you back. Right. I don’t have your number. Call me back in half an hour, on a landline.” She switched to the first caller. “Stay there. I’ll call you back.”
Olympias switched off the phone and called her dog to her. She had to get home and start the process of putting out a pair of serious fires. She would worry aboutlocal emergencies later—which seemed to be happening more and more these days.
“Memory doesn’t lie, but it does hallucinate. I hope,” Falconer muttered to himself as he made a careful search through the park.
“What?” the friend he’d brought with him asked.
“Nothing.” Falconer was looking for a particular tree. Though it was daylight, the place was thick with unnatural shadows, as if it didn’t want him to know it was here.
But he knew he was in the right place, though he couldn’t explain to his forensic scientist friend that his certainty came from the psychic residue of the Walkers, and not because this was where the attack had to have taken place. The thing was, he shouldn’t have forgotten where he’d been attacked. He hadn’t suffered any head trauma, and there was no logical excuse for him to have forgotten the existence of a park he passed on his walks all the time. When he’d come to his senses it had been like walking out a long, black tunnel, and he’d found himself standing stupidly in front of the door to his house.
Maybe he should forget the incident and move on, forget the weirdness the Walkers had encountered yesterday, and forget the man who might or might not be a vampire who showed up in visions and dreams when Falconer was looking for something else. Of course, if he were serious about dropping any investigation, he wouldn’t have called Russ Krantz from the FBI forensics lab and asked for a private crime scene investigation. Russ was ex-military, and he and Falconer went way back. Tight-assed as the Feds were, Russ hadn’t balked at the request, only at the early hour Falconer asked him to meet him. Falconer had placated him by bringing coffee and donuts. Now, as heat built and storm clouds loomed in the early morning sky, the two men ignored curious glances from runners on the park paths and methodically quartered the block-square area.
“Here,” Falconer called at the third tree he
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