Terror in Tahoe

October 15th, 4pm, Flagstaff, Arizona

Red endured her checkup, a week after laser removal surgery on her mysterious scars. She showed off the healing patches of inflamed neck skin to Kendra.

The off-duty nurse practitioner’s kitchen wasn’t the Mayo Clinic, but It was as good as an uninsured demon hunter could hope for. The procedure took most of her last bounty, but it was money well spent. Too many monsters noticed a vampire’s claim mark. Other hunters did to.

Kendra nodded in approval at the healing process. Still in scrubs after her shift at a Flagstaff charity clinic, a transgender flag pin glittered on her pocket. She was one of Vic’s townie friends, their bond forged when he had rescued her years ago from a feral werewolf. “The other guy did a good job. I’m sure he’d want to see it.”

“They were asking too many questions in Phoenix.” Red held out her wrists, pink from the kiss of the laser, for inspection. “I didn’t want to find a counsellor or something at the checkup.”

“I have some myself.” Kendra furrowed her brow. “Why did you think they’d bring in a mental health professional?”

Ignoring the question, Red asked one of her own. “How’s this?” She leaned back against the granite counter and lifted her shirt to reveal the shiny healing skin on her torso. Vic thought it had been a bullet wound.

“Oh, that is a biggie.”

“The original hurt like a son of a bitch to remove.”

“What caused it?” The nurse practitioner mused almost to herself. “Obviously, vamps must have done your neck, considering your line of work. This wound wouldn’t have hit anything major, but it—”

“Those were the kind of speculations that I hoped to avoid.” Red shrugged awkwardly. She had already played 20 questions with doctors before. Medical examinations of her body and her mind hadn’t answered much.

“Still, it wouldn’t be enough for me—”

While Kendra talked, Red hiked up her skirt and hitched her leg up in a very unladylike fashion. She wasn’t flashing the doc, she was showing off the last cluster of scars.

The nurse practitioner peered at Red’s thighs, her eyes grew sad.

Looking at the ceiling, Red asked quickly, “Everything healing right down there?”

“Yes. You’ll want to keep using a medicated ointment. Avoid rough fabrics too.”

“Thank you, I guess we’re done.” Red lowered her knee and smoothed her skirt down. “I appreciate you looking at me off the clock. I can get out of your hair.”

“You know if you want to talk about what happened, I’m here.” Kendra smiled wanly. Probably still thinking of the scarlet patches on Red’s thighs, wondering what kind of scars had been there. The dermatologist had certainly been curious. Then alarmed. Maybe he’d seen enough of the supernatural to know about bleeders—humans that willing gave blood to vamps. Or he just thought she was a junkie or a domestic violence victim.

Red wasn’t returning to find out.

It wasn’t like she knew either. Amnesia was a bitch like that. She didn’t need the memories to know what had bitten her repeatedly. Few creatures made such precise punctures. The freshest one on her neck was from a vampire king in the Midwest. She remembered staking him. It made the comparison easy.

“I’m fine. Vic thought my skin looked too much like my name,” Red chuckled awkwardly, hopping off the stool. “I told him that I was just pale, so it looked worse than it was. I wouldn’t have bothered, but you know how he is.”

“It’s good that he found you.”

“I guess we have that in common.” Red crept closer to the kitchen door. The nurse practitioner was a kindly person, trained to help others. She was just the kind of person that Red should talk too. Somehow sharing her story felt harder than facing a laser.

Kendra gave final instructions, like using sunscreen, with a delicate sensitivity. The goodbyes were as short as the hunter could politely make them.

Back in the parked black van, Red leaned her head against the steering wheel. The Millennium Falcon usually felt like a security blanket. Not today. It was why she hadn’t let Vic come with her. She took a deep breath. The old scars were gone, but she could see them clearly in her head. She had taken pictures before the procedure. Each scar was a clue to who she had been before. With evidence like that, did she even want to know?

The marks were still there. Laser removal was a lie, they didn’t remove the scars, they just put new ones over it.

Maybe that was life for you.

---

Red drove around an empty corral to park in front of the stout log cabin nestled in a patch of pines. The Arizona featured on postcards was all cactus and sand, it was different in the north country around Flagstaff.

Vic Constantine opened the front door at her approach and waved. His black mullet was still damp from a shower. Reputation pegged him as a hot shot werewolf hunter, but he was more like a redneck geek. You wouldn’t have guessed him as part of the Brotherhood, let alone a Bard in the illustrious scholarly order fighting against the supernatural. A printed Yoda on his shirt peeked from his flannel jacket. He was as close to a Jedi Master as she had.

He smiled broadly. “Pack all your stuff, we’re heading out tomorrow.”

Red already felt worried. He hadn’t been this excited since their last werewolf hunt. They weren’t crashing here like they did on the road. He owned the homestead, with his adopted brother, where their father had trained them to hunt demons. They had the place to themselves with Lashawn living out of state. For over two months, Vic had been happy busting local spooks in between TV binges. What changed?

She got out of the van. “Where to?”

“Vegas. We’re going on vacation!”

“Great, who is our sugar daddy?” She leaned against the hood, thinking about the old jam jar that functioned as her bank.

Grateful as she was that other hunters wouldn’t assume she’d been a bleeder anymore, reconstructive dermatology wasn’t cheap. Vic wasn’t much farther ahead than she was. They’d come into a windfall in July and now it was almost gone. The paradox of being broke: when you finally got money, you always had something urgent to spend it on. It was like catching water with a strainer.

“We’ll do a job when we get there.” He flapped his hand as if it was a minor concern. “It’s Sin City, there is always something. I promise I can get us free hotel rooms on the strip too.”

“How?”

“I know a guy. Hell, I know lots of guys in Nevada. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you—”

“Hey,” Vic patted her on the shoulder. “I said when you became my intern that I’d be able to get us work, and I will. I’m the wise elder millennial, listen to me on this. After all that shit with the Cowboy King, we might as well do something fun with what’s left of the bounty. Let’s cut loose, play poker, see how much shrimp we can eat at the buffet. The strip clubs are great there.”

She nodded, chuckling. “Okay, okay, I’ll get into party mode, but you’re on your own with the strippers.”

October 16th, 10am, Kingman, Arizona

Red left the cool climate control of the gas station for the growing morning heat of the parking lot. A familiar phone ringtone echoed on the asphalt— Black Sabbath’s “Children of the Grave.” Vic had a habit of assigning rock songs to hunter contacts to distinguish them from the ordinary ring of telemarketers. She hurried her pace. Had he found a job that would pay for their Vegas trip?

He paced by the fuel pump, face composed in unimpressed lines, listening to the caller on the other line. “Yeah, money is always good but I’m fixing to gamble… Sure, Tahoe has casinos but its no—” He stilled. “Why didn’t you say it was for Mike? Text me the address. What do you mean there’s more?”

She leaned against the Millennium Falcon, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped and glanced at her. Was he worried? That made her straighten her back.

He rubbed his face and hung up.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re not going to the Strip?”

“Soon, intern.” He sighed. “I doubt you’ll mind the detour when you know the reason.”

“If it’s a decent bounty sure,” Red said. After laying low in Arizona, she was getting antsy for the road. They needed the rest, but it had given her too much time to think.

“Money ain’t why we’re going.” He shrugged, shifting on his feet, unable to look at her. “I don’t know much. There isn’t much to know. Or get excited about, Red. Okay? Just remember that.”

“Is it really dangerous?”

“More for you than me. Emotionally speaking.” Avoiding her gaze, Vic busied himself by disconnecting the pump and twisting the fuel cap closed. “I was talking to a hunter named Tony. Awhile back, I gave him a call about you. He didn’t have much to say then but now… Let’s get on the road. Too many ears here.”

“What the fuck is it, dude?” She laughed from nerves, sound accidentally pitched a little too high. Goosebumps rose on her skin. “I’m dying of anticipation here.”

“You wanted to poke around to find your folks again.” Vic opened the driver’s door. “I got a lead. Not saying its anything but if you want to go, it’s going down in Tahoe.”

“Of course, I do.” Red looked away, hiding as she wiped a tear. She told herself it was the hot morning sun and the dusty exhaust from the highway making her eyes water. He was right. This could be nothing. Or it could be everything. She had learned a tantalizing tidbit about her mother being a witch, yet the tenuous lead from a ghost had yielded nothing. After the last dead end, she told herself she was done getting her hopes up.

It was a gamble bigger than a poker game. Could she handle the heat? Time to find out.

Red trotted to the passenger side door and nearly threw herself inside. She drummed her fingers on the dash as Vic checked the mirrors and took his sweet-ass time navigating out of the parking lot. Finally, she couldn’t stand the silent act anymore. “What the deal? Are we far enough on the road now?”

“Before I get to the meat of it, keep in mind that the girl Tony thinks you could be… Well, she has been presumed dead for years.”

Red slumped her shoulders. “Presumed?”

“Never found a body. Just a burnt-out home.”

“Whose Mike?”

“The only reason I’d add 8 more hours to our drive. He was a buddy of my dad Henry. Grizzled Vietnam vet, he took me under his wing when he came around. I had a feeling he was lonely, but I didn’t realize that he had a daughter.”

“Sounds like they weren’t close even before…” Red swallowed thickly. How had the other woman died?

“He’s not the first hunter with an ex-wife who decided to get out of the life with the kids. Guess it didn’t end up safer. Never does.” Vic gripped the wheel tightly.

She pulled herself out of her own head to focus on him. His biological family, the Parks, had been like the Korean-American Dream before they were murdered by a werewolf. He was speaking from experience with his adopted family—the Constantines. “Thinking about Lashawn aren’t you?”

“Its not my family we’re looking for. I know where my little brother is, crunching numbers in Seattle.” He shook his head. “Tony said that Mike is having a tough time. He has it in his head that his daughter is alive.”

“Why now?”

“Got some weird threats, I guess. He’s been living off the grid for ages. Not sure how anyone would have found him. Like I said, I don’t know much. Just that the girl is a redhead, around what we think your age is, and was last seen driving through Oregon.”

Red’s heart skipped a beat. “Near Eugene?”

Vic nodded. “Not far.”

She swallowed back hope. It hadn’t been the first time they had tracked down missing redheads. “Still sounds like a stretch.”

“Dad brought Mike in on specific cases because the guy only tracked one kind of monster and he was the best at it.”

“Vampires?”

“Bingo.”

Red leaned back in the seat and rolled down the window, suddenly needing air. She rubbed her chilled arms, as the sun beamed on her. The scant clues to her origin bobbed and weaved in her head, forming theories with the new information. If she turned out to be this girl, it would explain how she crossed paths with a vampire. Most supes would steer clear of a hunter’s daughter, but some might like the challenge.

“Are you going to say anything, Red?”

She massaged her forehead, trying to refocus on him. “What was the girl’s name?”

“Nicole Fontaine.”

Red didn’t feel like a Nicole. Then again, she had gone through a baby book and hadn’t felt like any of them. A hunter’s daughter made more sense. It explained how she had still remembered supernatural lore despite losing her identity. She pinched herself to clear her head. “So, this could be nothing but if its not… What does that mean about where I’ve been? Was I trying to follow in the family business and got in over my head or was it revenge—”

“Maybe don’t think about that until we know something. You’ll torture yourself with what ifs. We’ll find it out when we get there.”

As the desert scenery whipped by Red couldn’t think of anything else. She barely noticed the grandeur of the canyons around the Hoover Dam as wild speculations multiplied like rabbits in her brain.

“Hey, I can’t stand to see you gnawing on your lip like that,” Vic said after they crossed statelines. “I can feel you freaking over there.”

She probably looked like an anxious hamster. Relaxing her jaw, she set her fidgeting hands on her lap. “Yeah, I am.”

“It’s better that you think about this as a protection job for an old hunter, figuring out what’s targeting him. I don’t know what we’ll find there about you. If there was an easy solution for that, I’d have found it by now. We won’t know anymore until we get there.” Vic rummaged through a backpack on top of the wooden chest between the seats and pulled out a pack of gummies. A cartoon marijuana leaf winked at her from the packaging. He offered it to her.

“I don’t know if that will help,” she said, grabbing it and studying the dosage.

“Its better than a cup of chamomile,” He quipped before growing somber. “You haven’t had a panic attack in a while, let’s keep it that way. We’ve got a lot of state to cover before we get to Tony and Mike.”

He wasn’t wrong. She’d been a mess when they had last taken a stab at uncovering her origins in the spring. It had gotten bad enough that he had forced her to go to a support group.

Red chewed two gummies. “You’re the designated the driver then.”

“Somehow I’ll survive.” He fiddled with the radio, stalling to think more than searching for a new station. She knew his habits well enough by now. “Don’t catch feelings too soon. This job might throw you even if it turns out to be mistaken identity.”

Red nodded, pretending to be the cool dispassionate hunter. She didn’t tell him that it would hurt more if it came to nothing. That might make him turn the van around.

---

Later, she crawled into a bean bag chair in the back of the van and napped through most of Nevada. It was the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

Red awoke clear headed and mellow long past sunset. Yawning and stretching, she climbed back into the front. Vic tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along to Blue Oyster Cult on the radio. At the next little town, a place called Gardnerville, she swapped into the driver’s seat.

He poured a beer into a camping mug and took the role of map reader on the last leg of the journey on the 395 north towards Lake Tahoe. Unincorporated settlements clinging to the highway blurred together under the orangish streetlamps. He directed her off the beaten path outside Carson City.

“It’s been awhile but I remember Tony lives between here and Deadman’s Point.”

“That’s a name that inspires confidence.”

Vic grinned and waved his hands. “It’s the quirkiness of the wild west!”

She shot an unamused glance at him. “Feels like an omen.”

“Hey, we’ll take a breather after talking to Tony, I swear. It’ll be chill, we’ll get some intel and then find a motel. Mike won’t be there. I’m betting all we do is match some prints for you, figure out who’s hassling him, and we’re done.”

“What? We cheer him up, make sure the old guy is taking his meds, take him into town to shop and then we are off to Vegas?”

“It’s a cakewalk.” His smile ebbed and he started poking at the radio again. “We’ll dig into it tomorrow anyway.”

The rural highway followed a river until Vic directed her onto a dusty frontage road. After nearly twelve hours on the road, they finally arrived at a ranch with an aluminum sided barn. Flood lights banished the evening’s darkness from the gravel yard. Protective runes and sigils were painted on rocks under barbwire fences around the property. Banged up vehicles were parked outside the barn.

Red belted on her small leather hunter’s kit around her waist, strapping the lower half to her thigh. The tiered pouches held enough supplies, like a snub-nosed revolver, holy water, and salt, to get her out of a fight. They weren’t realtors, their jobs usually ended in a scuffle. She hoped it would wait until tomorrow like he said.

Vic led her to the large barn and opened a side entrance. It was fortified by steel and iron, more protection than a typical rancher needed. An airbrushed Virgin of Guadalupe, surrounded by nailed silver crosses, adorned the inside of the door.

Red stepped inside as a sad Norteño ballad drifted out, accordions playing alongside an emotional Mexican guitar. A black cat curled up on a crackling speaker. Straw and saw dust covered the floor. Mismatched tables occupied with hunters dotted the large barn. A few were in black or leather, but most looked like you could bump into them at Walmart. It was easy to tell the locals in their boisterous groups from the quiet solo or paired hunters drifting through.

Barks drew her attention to a chain-link fence separating the main area from a dog run filled with pit bulls. A few were loose roaming the barn like a large brindle male, keloid scars lumped by his ear, who gave her a watchful once over. Healthy with shiny coats, the dogs seemed well taken care of now, but had the marks of a hard life. The people were much the same.

Vic nodded to an older Hispanic man standing by a plywood bar in the corner.

Maybe in his sixties, the man had a craggy face and a thick black ponytail. He was shirtless in a black leather vest and jeans. Tattoos, ink faded to a dark green, circled his chest forming an Aztec calendar. If he had a Hell’s Angels jacket in his closet, Red wouldn’t have been surprised. He had her bet as the toughest hunter in the joint.

“Whose that?” She asked.

“Tony,” Vic said cheerfully and took her over.

The other man stepped away from the bar to meet them. Frown lines etched deep in forehead and high cheeks, he had a stare that could have made a prison warden flinch.

Red braced herself for a rocky beginning to the job. Hunters worked together more often than not, but they didn’t all like each other.

“Son of bitch,” Tony growled. “You still have all your parts. I think I lost a bet.”

Vic grinned at the other hunter’s surly expression. “They all work too.”

Laughing, Tony hugged him, smile brightening his fierce features. “You’re right on time like your old man.”

“Speaking of old men, have you talked to Mike?” Vic asked.

“Earlier, yes. Prepare yourself, it’s been a hard year for him.”

“He was okay when I talked to him last.” Eyebrows lifting, Vic crossed his arms, shifting on his feet like a guilty little boy. “Is he still going to the VA, seeing the doc, all that?”

“When I can get him too.” Tony nodded. “Is this the girl?”

“This is my intern. Red, this is Tony Grijalva.”

She shook the older hunter’s hand.

“I’d say that a lady as pretty as yourself can call me Antonio but knowing your possible Daddy…” Tony chuckled. “I remember Willa from back in the day, she had green eyes and red hair too. I wouldn’t have tested her either.”

“Is that Mike’s wife?” she asked.

“Former. She was a firecracker from Lodi.” Tony smiled. “You had a long trip. Refresh yourselves. The john is by the kennel. Get something on the house, I’d offer you what I’m having but the Earl Grey would just keep you up.” He picked up a yellow mug. “I’m on night shift.”

“I’m off to see a man about a horse then.” Vic glanced at her. “You know what I get. I’ll be right back.”

Red gave him a minute shake of her head. She had told him that he should’ve taken a pee break when she did, squatting in the bushes, a few miles back. He didn’t get it, but she had a firm policy of going before arriving to any job. You never knew what you would find. Hunting on a full bladder only lead to something scaring the piss out of you. She learned that embarrassing lesson on one of her first nights out in the field.

“Lupita, honey, could you get a Tecate?” Tony asked a round-faced woman in a Tweedy bird shirt behind the bar. He commented to Red. “Constantine is like his old man, he’ll accept any beer as long as it’s cold.”

“He’ll make an exception depending on the day,” Red joked then smiled politely at the bartender. “I’ll take the same, thanks.”

Lupita handed the frosty cans over and turned away to give them privacy.

Red sipped the beer, it wasn’t her booze of choice, but the motion was automatic and so was the random small talk that slipped out. “You’re rolling with the big dogs. Protection?”

“Nah, rescues. Mostly from fighting rings. I train and socialize them then send them off for adoption. This whole group is heading out tomorrow morning.” Tony pointed to a big brindle male. “Hercules stays here.”

“You run this bar?”

“More like I run a dog rescue and let people drink here.” He laughed. “We don’t let the law know that second part.”

She smiled. He looked like a Quentin Tarantino character, but he had a heart big enough for a pack. She hoped this lead wasn’t some misguided attempt to give hope to a friend. “You know my story from Vic. Was this worth the drive? At least on my part. Do you really think I could be his kid or is it just mistaken identity?”

“No matter who you turn out to really be, there’s a job here.” Tony looked over her shoulder at the opening door and sighed. “And Mike is too now.”

A crowd of departing hunters chatted in front of the doorway blocking the sight.

Red tried to look around them. “I thought he wasn’t going to be here. He was going to meet us tomorrow?”

“He shouldn’t be walking alone at night. And he better not be driving.” Tony shook his head, long ponytail swishing, and marched to the door.

Vic stepped into the vacated place, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. “Where’s he going?”

“Mike is here.” She craned her neck peeping even though it was useless. It wasn’t as if she’d recognize him. She hadn’t recognized herself when she first looked in a mirror. “What does he look like?”

“I guess we’re just diving into this then.” Vic took the unopened beer can off the counter and popped it open to take a big gulp. “I hope the old man’s heart can take it. He was having trouble with it when I last saw him.”

The group by the door cleared to reveal Tony guiding a big man in a camouflage jacket to a table. The newcomer had a white beard and used a cane to walk with purpose. Happy dogs crowded around the newcomer, jockeying for attention, and sniffing his patched jeans.

Animals seemed to like him. That had to be a good sign. Was that really her dad?

“We don’t know anything yet,” Vic said. “Right now, the only solid thing we know is that someone is harassing a retired hunter about his dead daughter.”

Blushing, Red didn’t realize she had asked the question out loud. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Tony gestured them over before retreating to the bar.

She walked faster than Vic to the table and stuck out her hand to the bearded man. His beefy forearms were covered in old scars and military tattoos. An old Marine Corps hat rested on his still thick white hair. He was both stout and tall, built like a tank in his prime. It was easy to see how he held his own against vampires before retirement. Now, his bulky frame seemed more like a burden on his laboring lungs.

“Who do we have here besides young Constantine? I’m Mike Fontaine.” He cocked a cauliflower ear, but he didn’t acknowledge her hand. His gaze angled strangely on them, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He was blind!

“I’m Red.” She shifted on her feet, feeling hot and embarrassed under the fluorescent wall lights. She started to lower her arm.

Mike caught her hand and shook it. “I can see the shadows move still. God damn, do I wish I could see more now. “

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Vic said. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you too.” Mike’s short statement wasn’t curt or sad, only authoritative. This wasn’t a man who accepted pity for himself. He addressed Red next. “They say you don’t remember anything.”

“Doctors think it’s like head trauma or something,” Vic said, sitting down at the round table. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

She sat down in a chair between the men. “That’s right.”

A year or so of life on the road, imprinting on Vic like a baby duckling, hadn’t given her manners a polish even if she had been a debutante in a past life. She didn’t know a good way to say it. They had driven hours out of their way instead of doing a call. Vic hadn’t known why it wouldn’t help, but he trusted Tony’s advice to just come. She still didn’t understand.

“Do I sound like your daughter?” Red asked.

Eyelids drooping, Mike exhaled in a raspy wheeze. “I haven’t seen her since she was a little girl with a voice like a helium balloon. I wouldn’t know her voice as a woman.”

“Vic played this one close to the chest so forgive me if you’ve already been asked this, but do you have any pictures of her that I could see?”

“I never had a life where I could keep a photobook intact, but I do have this.” Mike retrieved his wallet to fish out a small, folded picture. He smoothed it carefully on the table. “Never got a single one after this.”

Faded to warm tones, the photo looked like it had been developed off film from a disposable camera. The details blurred on the elderly woman with a cleft chin holding a small redheaded girl with big green eyes at a family barbeque. The timestamp read May 22, 1993.

“My mother.” He tapped the gray-haired woman and then the girl. “Little Nicky.”

“How old is she in here?” Red asked. “Three?”

“Four. She’d be thirty-one this year.” A tremble crept into Mike’s voice. He looked down, getting an inhaler out of his pocket, and took a heavy puff. “That was taken just before Willa took her away. She waited until after my ma died a few weeks later then declared it over. Cut all contact. Changed names, the works. Didn’t even let her folks talk to me.”

“Why?”

“If you asked me years ago, I would have said it was because my wife was a spiteful witch.” He chuckled dryly, it turned into a cough. “She said it was because too many vampires knew about Nicole. We were both hunters but after our baby was born, Willa didn’t see the tight scrapes the same way I did. She wanted out. A vamp got too close one night, looking to make a name for himself. He put a knife to our Nicky’s throat, but I killed him before he could take a drop. It took months before I realized but that was it for the marriage.”

“That’s terri—” Vic started to say.

Red interrupted him. She hadn’t wanted to stop Mike, but the warmth had drained from her at his first sentence. She had always felt that her mother had to be alive. Wouldn’t the ghost in Oklahoma have mentioned if she had passed? Then again spirits had their own agendas. “What do you mean was? Did Willa pass?”

“I found out when a check came. It took months to find me, but she had a persistent bank—Smith and Reaper. She left me money. Died a year to the day before Nicole disappeared. I was in the hospital when she was born, shooing the nurses out so Willa could do a baby blessing. I reckon now it was attached to her own life.”

“Willa was really a witch.” Red’s head swam from the fact. Magic wasn’t always inherited yet it was common.

“Nicole only had a touch of the gift.” Mike confirmed as if answering Red’s unsaid question. He paused, lost in memories. Hercules the pit bull leaned against the man’s knee. He absently petted the pooch.

Vic patted Mike on the shoulder in the same friendly fashion. “Tony said you have a buddy who can run prints tomorrow. I’ve already contacted him. We also got a paternity test lined up. The results might take a bit.”

“You say Nicole disappeared,” Red redirected the conversation. They might as well have it now even if Vic wanted to put a pin on it. “The cops declared her dead.”

“Nothing about it was right,” Mike said. “She left San Francisco going north with only a purse. I remember as a little girl, she couldn’t go to a sleep over at my mother’s without rolling luggage. She wouldn’t have left that way unless she had no choice. Then her apartment was set on fire. The cops dropped the case after 48 hours. Stopped returning my calls by the next week. Don’t tell me that doesn’t seem like the Dark Veil closing.”

“Supes will do anything for their secrecy.” She knew it too well. Killing was part of the protocol too. “How did you find out?”

“Another hunter contacted me for advice. Telephone is how I get into the field nowadays. Wasn’t until the second call that we realized who the missing girl really was since Nicole was under an alias. He tracked the case until it went cold.”

“Did he find anything we need to know?” Vic asked.

“I have it all at home,” Mike said. “Including what I could gather from a civilian friend in the SFPD. He said some men in black suits took out the original files at night. The cop is convinced its aliens and the Feds, but I know it was the Dark Veil Assurance. The DVA don’t get involved unless they are covering up vampires.”

Red touched her neck. She was glad Mike couldn’t see, he would have already asked what happened.

“I’ve spilled my guts, Vic,” Mike said. “It’s your turn. Why do you think your friend here might be my little girl?”

Vic sighed. “I’m not saying anything yet. Some things are matching up is all, but we have no hard evidence. We should take a beat, split up and meet back again tomorrow.”

“I’m not an invalid, kid. You’ve seen me take down dead men older than this country.”

“This is the quick version,” Red said summarizing how Vic found her. With Kendra, she clammed up, yet she couldn’t help but want to tell Mike more. Maybe she needed to talk more than she thought. She added details like what the doctors said when she’d been found and how they had results after running her prints, then continued in broad strokes. “Got a tough of magic, heard a rumor that I had a witch for a mom. Maybe true, maybe not. Red hair, green eyes, Caucasian woman. I guess I fit the bill. Its been a year and some change hunting with Vic out of his van.”

“In his van, hun?” Mike asked, giving Vic a suspicious side eye.

“She’s been like my little sister, swear to God.”

Red laughed. “He’s a gentleman. Even punched a dude who got too fresh with me once.”

Mike smiled. “Good. Good. Henry Constantine would’ve expected nothing less.”

With an awkward tug on his shirt neck, Vic steered the conversation away. “Tony said that someone is leaving threats.”

“Someone knows something and whoever it is taunting me with it.” Mike stood, holding a cane. “I can show you the evidence. You can bunk down on my land for the night. Better keep you out of town while we can. No telling who might see you.”

Red exchanged a long glance with Vic. “Since Mike walked and Vic is on his third beer, I’ll drive.”

“No need. I brought my own wheels.” Mike was surprisingly agile, already trucking for the door. He winked at her. “Just don’t tell Tony. We met at bootcamp and he’s been like a nagging wife ever since.”

She got up and waved goodbye at Tony then followed behind the old veteran. Once outside, she boggled at Mike as he climbed into a modified golf cart. Black, it was lifted on custom wheels, and the bumpers were outfitted with ramming spikes. If Mad Max and Fury Road had retirement villages, this is what they would have rode around on.

“Who wants to drive with me?” Mike turned on the rumbling engine.

Wanting a chance to get the steering wheel from the blind man, Red raised her hand and walked to the passenger side, leaving Vic to take the van. “Me. I can drive you though.”

“I know the way better than you, Red.” Mike smiled. “Not my first trip in the Beast.”

She conceded. “What did you do to this thing?”

He revved the motor. “Hop in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’ll bring up the rear, Sergeant.” Vic saluted and got into the Millennium Falcon.

Red settled in, holding onto her misgivings. She primed herself to grab the steering wheel if they veered off course.

“And before you fuss like Tony, I came out with protection.” Mike lifted his cane, hitting a button on the side. An inch of newly revealed metal glimmered by the handle. It was a hidden sword! He clicked his cane-sheath closed. “Buckle up, kiddo. We’re going off-road.”

They zoomed out of the lot around the barn and onto a path into the wilderness. Shadows lay over the high desert landscape. She would have been hard pressed to navigate it in the dark, yet he booked it. As if sensing her trepidation, he pointed to the sides of the road. “There should be a Utah Juniper over there. And the yellow rabbit bushes are in bloom too. I’ve been retired out here a long time before my sight faded.”

“Is that why you mated a dune buggy with a golf cart?” Red asked, yelling to be heard over the motor and the wind.

“You’re not far off.” Mike pointed out the modifications on the vehicle, designed after the government took his driver’s license. Off-roading got him to a local dollar store or to Tony’s, which from there he could hitch a ride to the local veteran’s affairs office. He explained it was more than enough people to see.

“What was that?” He turned off the engine.

Red finally heard it—a pained whimper from the bushes.

He made an arm signal to Vic behind them. “We’re by the patch of bull thistle, aren’t we? They look spiky, some should still have red petals.”

She squinted in the dark. “Yeah.”

Mike tapped his way towards the vegetation. She chased after him to the edge of the road.

“What do we have here?” he asked.

“Looks like a dog trapped in something.” Red knelt and freed the exhausted little thing from a fallen barb wire fence. At first, she thought the young female was a puppy, but the teats indicated that it had bred a few times. Was it escaped from a breeding mill? It looked like a white Maltese or one of those small dogs that ended up looking like a fluffy ottoman. The animal seemed to sag from relief into Red’s arms. “It’s hurt.”

Mike cursed in the illustrative and occasionally profound way that only Marines and the English managed. He continued after a puff on his inhaler. “There’s a place nearby called dog patch where local assholes dump pets. Some lucky ones make it here where I can find ‘em. Let’s get him to the cart.”

“It’s a her. She has a little cinnamon spot on her chest.” Red stood with the dog. “We can take her back to Tony.”

“I trained for a bit as a veterinarian after the war.” He smiled proudly. “I used to help Tony with his recues. Still drive around with pet food and a first aid kit.”

Mike and Red attended to the injured dog by the cart. He stroked its sides, calming the canine as she acted as his hands to clean and wrap a bandage around the leg wound.

“You’re really good with animals,” she said, getting back into the passenger seat. “They seem to trust you.”

“Always liked ‘em the most, I guess. Nicole was the same way. Always bringing in some bird with a broken wing. She followed in my better footsteps and became a veterinarian.” He smiled. “You’re not too bad with them either.”

She smiled down at the now sleeping stray in her arms. “This one is just sweet. I’m going to call her Sugar.”

“She’s smart. She knows suckers with kibble when she finds them.”

They continued in the cart down the winding path through the high desert.

She heard the barking before she saw the small house, double ringed with fencing. Sugar tensed in her arms and whined at the sound. Around two dozen dogs leaped against the fence as the golf cart passed. Many were black mutts with tall lanky builds like Doberman mixes with undocked ears and tails. The yard was pocked with holes and torn up scraps of toys and pillows. Excited to see Mike as the dogs were, somehow Red got the feeling that they were less socialized than Tony’s rescues.

They parked the vehicles by the front entrance of the house then walked under a steel awning and passed a well-used grill to a large shed.

Mike opened the door. “This was found in the parking lot of a hunter’s motel in Reno. No witnesses as to who.”

Once the shed had been a wood working shop, now a coffin lay inside, scarlet spray paint marked the dark varnish—Nicole Fontaine, Resting in Peace? The sick prankster had wasted no expense it. After too many visits to funeral homes, Red could tell it was a high-end model. The kind a grieving father would want for his child. A disturbing image of pink fabric lining the insides flashed in her mind. She cuddled Sugar closer to her chest.

“Reno, huh? Julio found it then?” Vic grunted, arms crossed. He stepped around the coffin.

“One of his tenants did, but it didn’t take either long to call me. I already got the message in one of my tapes.” Mike explained as he guided them back to the trailer. “I get some mail at the VA. The blind peoples’ library sends me books on tape. It felt like all the rest when I pulled it out of the case. Supposed to have been good old Louis L’Amour. That wasn’t what came out my headphones.”

Red followed behind Vic as she walked inside the house.

It had a bunker vibe with tall shelves for extra storage to the protection symbol painted on the ceiling. A garland of dried garlic and silver crosses hung by the front door. Garlic was more likely to make your common variety vampires sneeze then repel them, but it worked with other more obscure forms of the undead. Weapon racks on the wall were filled with everything from rifles to broadswords.

What space left over in the living area was dominated by a large bookstand made of driftwood. It held an old television along with a library of westerns and mystery novels. Other cupboards looked hand crafted too. The only seats were two recliners duct taped so much that it was more metallic tape than fabric. An old Doberman woofed and lumbered down from one to lick Mike’s hand.

With the storage labeled and orderly, the military discipline was still seen in the Spartan environment, yet she could tell that it was harder for Mike to get around. A musty canine aroma hung over the place. Dust and loose fur hung on the window blinds thick as a curtain. An exterior wall was boarded over with plywood as if covering a hole.

Mike waved his hand to motion them to sit as he rummaged through an old milk crate by the recliner. “Mind your step around the puppy pads. This old bugger isn’t feeling well, and I am keeping him away from the pack.”

Red sat in the still warm chair that the dog vacated, figuring that its fur matched her black jeans well enough. Sugar was sleeping again and seemed to have gained more weight in her arms.

Mike’s dog gave it a polite sniff before climbing into the other chair.

The owner paid it no mind as he set a tape player on a stand and pressed play. A fuzzy sound of kids playing and people chatting rose from the small speaker. A high-pitched little voice rang out. “I’m scared. I can’t go in the ocean.”

“Why?” A deeper voice— Mike’s—asked.

“Its so big! I’m just a little girl.”

The sound cut out, static on the recording until a distant scream and a crash echoed. It made the old hound lift his head and howl. The pack answered from outside. Chills rolled down the back of Red’s neck.

“That was from a home movie. Willa took it with her when she left.” Mike furrowed his brow. “I almost thought it was Nicole trying to speak to me until I realized the audiobook had been swapped out.”

“Someone went to a lot of trouble,” Vic said. “Let’s put aside how they got the recording, they would need to rip the audio from the raw video, edit in whatever that outro was, and put it onto a cassette. Then they gotta sneak passed some librarians—”

“Or they replaced the tape at the VA,” Red added. “How many people know where you live, Mike?”

“The bastards haven’t caught me yet. Just poking my old haunts to smoke me out.”

Red pointed to the damaged wall. “Are you sure about that? Looks like something tried to bust in from the yard.”

“A dog did that last month. Haven’t had a chance to fix it,” Mike grumbled.

She didn’t like the sound of that. It would be winter soon enough.

“Who do you think is sending the eerie-ass messages?” Vic asked.

“I made a lot of enemies with long memories,” Mike said grimly. “You’re lucky you go after werewolves, Constantine. They don’t live forever.”

“Whose on the top of your list?” Red asked.

“Hard to say. I’ve been out of the game a long time. Whoever it is, they haven’t shown their hand. We should start at the beginning with my daughter. Maybe fresh eyes will see something I didn’t.”

Mike offered them some leftover steak and lemonade as he shared what he had learned from the cops and the trip he took with Tony to retrace his daughter’s last journey. He showed them the photos of case files from the SFPD taken before the original records went missing. They were surprisingly scant, without pictures, some pages gone, others seemingly edited. Had the DVA gone through it once before deciding later it was best destroyed? She didn’t know why they bothered. Nothing jumped out at her except for one fact.

On March 15th, 2017, Nicole Fontaine had been last seen fueling up her car before sunset outside at a gas station on the Florence Eugene Highway. It was only miles from where Vic found Red last year. The clerk thought she had seemed stressed, but he had been stoned on his shift and couldn’t remember it all. A grainy recording caught the woman hustling to her car, face hidden with her head down. Then she drove out of sight forever.

They were quiet after eating, digesting the information as much as dinner. Mike was the first to speak. “I don’t think she’s dead. Nicole knew what was out there and Willa promised me that our kid would know how to defend herself. She was strong, it’s in our blood. My girl would survive anything thrown at her.”

Red rubbed her wrists, the skin still sensitive where scars had been removed. Scars that looked like old restraint marks. “Vamps sometimes keep ‘em alive.”

Vic opened his mouth as if to make a Devil’s Advocate point when he sipped lemonade instead. She was glad, arguing that the man’s daughter was probably dead wouldn’t have been a comforting notion.

Under his Marine Corps hat, Mike blinked suddenly wet eyes and sniffed looking away. “What they could’ve done to her… That’s what keeps me up at night.”

Red crossed her legs with a wince as the denim pinched her lasered skin. She had said the same words before to Vic about herself.

---

After mulling over the files with Red and Vic, Mike stood with a creak and rubbed his back, other hand leaning on his cane. “I need to feed the dogs.”

“Want help?” she asked.

“I have a system. You get Sugar situated for the night. Old Bruno here won’t mind if she eats from his bowl. It’s in the kitchen.” He left out the front door, greeted by barks from the pack.

Red carried the little white dog into the galley kitchen, it wasn’t hard to find as the place only had two bedrooms and a bathroom. Vic following on her heels. Boxes of supplies, jugs of holy water, and bean cans covered the counter. Prescription pill bottles were lined up by the sink like solders. Once upon a time, the cabinets had been finely made but now one hung crookedly by an old grimy fridge. The kitchen was supposed to be the heart of the home and this one felt broken.

She set Sugar down by a kibble bowl. “What do you think?”

“Mostly I’m thinking retirement sucks.” Vic looked around. “Your body craps out and where are you left as a hunter? Hiding out, hoping none of the monsters remember to be pissed at you.”

“Its sad how he lost his family even before they died. He’s lonely.”

“It’s not like I don’t call him. We mostly talk about old hunting stories with my Dad. I didn’t realize…” Vic trailed off. “Something isn’t right.”

“I know. We definitely need to help him with this place. You can tell he had put a lot of work into it before but he can’t keep up like he used to.”

“That’s not it. I think you look a little too young to be his daughter.”

“Maybe I moisturized?”

“Sure, maybe.” He shrugged, opening his mouth, and closing it as if he thought better of whatever he was going to say when Mike entered the kitchen.

“I know you had a long road. I can offer the living room if you’re ready to turn in.” Mike’s cheeks reddened above his white beard. “The other bedroom isn’t fit for company.”

“We got a whole set up in the van,” she said quickly, wanting to spare his pride. “You don’t need to go to any trouble.”

“Leave space for the holy ghost, Constantine,” Mike ordered gruffly, pointing at the crosses by his door. They were right next to the gun rack.

Vic gulped and bobbed his head. “Always do, sir.”

---

Red lay in her sleeping bag on a mat in the back of the van, unable to get comfortable. Bathed in the glow of her phone, she had failed to locate any social media profiles under Nicole Fontaine’s alias even after maxing out her cellphone data plan. Just one recent photo would have closed the case of whether she was dealing with mistaken identity, but universe wasn’t dealing out easy solutions tonight.

Head by her feet in his own sleeping bag, Vic snored loud enough that he might as well have been nestled by her ear. It was impossible to ignore. Much like his advice earlier—don’t catch feelings. The day rattled around in her mind no matter how hard she tried to settle down. She kept coming back to the same thought.

Mike might not be her father, but he certainly needed a daughter.

October 17th, 9am, somewhere between Lake Tahoe and Carson City, Nevada

The next day, Red was up shortly after dawn. Mike already had black coffee and a tin of biscuits waiting for them. Vic had them swab their mouths for an at-home paternity test. He made the Maury Povich joke that he had clearly been holding in since last night.

After feeding the animals, Mike cooked some sausages outside. It seemed like he used the old grill more than his stove. He insisted he could wash up the dishes alone.

Left at an old patio table, the young hunters sipped coffee with Bruno and Sugar at their feet. The morning sun dappled across the scrub land bringing out the colors of the rocks and hardy desert plants.

Vic looked over his shoulder at the closed door. “Last night we learned a lot. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“Is that why you were in the bathroom forever?” She quipped pouring more coffee from a battered metal coffee pot.

“That’s the Marines-grade java. No, I’m talking about Mike. I see you look at him and know what you’re thinking. You want to swoop on in and save him like you did Sugar. That’s all well and good. But we still don’t know if he’s your daddy.”

“Yeah, I know. You keep telling me that, but we’re never had a lead like this. Everything is falling into place. It all makes sense.”

“Don’t put your heart into this, is all I’m saying. I haven’t sent the test in,” Vic said. “Maybe my guy already came through on the fingerprints. My burner phone isn’t picking up a thing out here and you’re out of data but I can check my email once I get connected to Wi-Fi.”

Mike came outside holding a set of keys. “Need Wi-Fi? I don’t have it, but Tony does.”

“We can take Sugar,” Red picked up the dog and waved its paw. The fuzzball wagged its tail. “She likes that idea.”

“I need a favor,” Mike said. “Since I have a wheelwoman, want to go to the hardware store?”

“Sure.” She handed Sugar over to Vic before he could argue. She ignored his warning look. He was the one who said that they should help the old man with his shopping.

Piling into an old rusty Ford pickup, Red drove as Mike gave instructions out of his patch of wilderness and into civilization. The vehicle hadn’t been driven in a long time and a friendly daddy long legs spider sat in a web by the sun visor, seemingly happy to go along for the ride. Mike hadn’t let her scoop it out, content to have a new pet.

At the small Ma and Pop shop, they loaded his truck with supplies. It was a simple trip but the normalcy of it tugged at her heart. At his trailer, they worked on the wall repair. The blind man still had a craftsman’s touch. She mostly assisted and handed him tools. Her heart made a happy flutter every time she brought the right one without a description and made him smile.

After the job was done, they sat under the outside awning with lemonade as the afternoon shadows stretched over the sleeping dogs in the yard.

“I saw you eyeing my books. You can borrow a few if you want,” he said.

“That would be nice. I haven’t stay in one place long enough to get a library card.” She shrugged feeling self-conscious. “I like to read even if I don’t know if I even finished school.”

“You seem smart enough to me. Is school what you want to do?”

“Kinda.” She blushed. “I know I haven’t been in the field long, but I want to take the Hunter’s Challenge and join the Brotherhood. It’s the written portion of the test that worries me. What if they have essays?”

“There’s a trick to those,” Mike said sagely. “If things turn out how I want them too and you turn out to be my own, I can help you. Sponsor you for the challenge or send you to community college.” He grumbled. “I earned those GI benefits in ‘Nam after all. Oughta be good for something.”

“Helping me with the challenge—.” Red sipped her lemonade, emotion choking her for a moment, so she could speak again without her voice quaking. “When I woke up, I knew I wanted to hunt demons. Whatever happened to me, they couldn’t take that away. I wanted to be a hunter. You guys are my heroes. I would be proud to have you for a father.”

She stopped herself from saying more. They had repaired a wall in the house, but she felt her own walls coming down.

---

After cleaning up the living room, Red changed out of a dusty old North Dakota tourist t-shirt into a clean black one, leather jacket, and jeans. The weather was colder than she was used to after a summer in the south.

Mike refilled her holy water stock then gave her some more ammo after a long time looking at the snub-nosed revolver that Vic had given her before deeming it met his approval. He promised to take her out shooting sometime. It was a promise that she desperately wanted him to keep.

She belted her leather hunter’s kit around her waist. She wasn’t expecting trouble in the daytime. It was to remind herself that she was on a job still.

They arrived at the hunter’s hangout around five. The barn was full of dogs but only a few hunters were scattered around the tables.

Tony greeted them with a canine entourage. “You missed Vic, he ducked outside to have a phone call. You thirsty?”

Red nodded. Sugar hobbled over and scratched at her leg to be picked up.

Mike excused himself to the washroom.

She settled down at a table with Tony. Sugar hopped into her lap, leaving little dusty prints on the black denim. She scratched behind the dog’s ears. “How was this little princess’s first day with the gang?”

“Hercules already showed her around. Loves the bitches.” Tony patted his pit bull with a chuckle. “I’d hoped she’d only have to meet a few of them. I’m still waiting for the volunteers with the truck to take this crew to their forever homes.”

“You guys are such animal people. He said you were canine handlers in the military together.” She frowned. “Mike has more than you, I think.”

Tony sighed. “He didn’t have so many before, but the pack grew as his sight failed. It’s part of why I am making space here to take some in. Not a chat I am looking forward too.”

She smiled, relieved. “Its good he has you looking out for him.”

Mike walked over to them and sat down. “Tony, that’s a shaman living at that lake house in Deer Crest, right? Jake at the hardware store said his brother-in-law finished a deck there.”

Tony nodded, suspicion curling at her mouth. “Why do you ask?”

“Had an idea,” Mike said, expression blank.

Red had a feeling that his friend already wouldn’t like it even if she didn’t know the scoop on who was who in the rural area.

Tony shook his head. “He’s not going to be able to talk to Nicole.”

“That’s what he does,” Mike said. “You know that Henry Constantine thought he had real power.”

“He didn’t tell us what it was,” Tony said. He looked down at his phone and cursed softly. “Excuse me. I think my new volunteers are lost again.” He stood leaving them to start a call.

Sugar yipped and ran off Red’s lap to greet Vic when he entered the barn. He stroked the little dog’s ears absently. His eyes were sad as he caught sight of them at the table. He squared his shoulders and walked over. “Hey, guys, how was going into town? You two were gone all day.”

“Had a long shopping list, son,” Mike said.

“It was fun,” Red said. “We ended up fixing that wall. Well, he mostly did while I watched and made lemonade.”

Vic’s smile became forced. “That’s great. Just great.”

“While we were manually laboring, you were sitting pretty on that laptop,” she joked, trying to lighten his mood. It had been a good day. She didn’t need him spoiling it just yet.

Vic rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I haven’t heard back on the prints, but I’ve talked to Tony, Julio in Reno and a few others trying to collect a rogue’s gallery on who could be targeting you now—Damien Warchild, Vidal Hurtado, and Tiffany the Terrible. Been thinking about how we’re doing this job.” He licked his lips, face screwed up for a moment like he wished he had a beer for this conversation. “Last night, we focused Nicole, but I’ve been looking over this evidence. Whoever is fucking with you Mike, I don’t think it means that your kid is still alive, I think it just means they’re coming for you now.”

“I’ve thought about this more than you, Constantine,” Mike boomed out. Adjusting his hand on his cane, he stared into the distance. His voice came out softer. “The things I used to hunt… they weren’t these newfangled souled vampires. I hunted the worst of the worst, dead men who could have given the Black Libertine a run for depravity. If one of their spawn wants to hurt me, they’ll want to take their time. Willa left because she knew Nicole would be how’d they’d do it.”

Red swallowed thickly, mouth dry. She removed the scars, but she felt each one just then, suddenly imagining them growing back.

“Then we need to discover who is targeting you,” Vic said. “We gotta start at the idea that Nicole is dead and not make any attachments—” he gave Red a significant look—“until I get word from that cop on the prints. That should come quicker than the paternity test. I have an alchemist buddy in Las Vegas, those dudes usually know what’s happening first in this state. Red can drive down there and see what the magic types say—”

“I thought you came here to help me find my daughter, Vic.” Mike stood from the table, unsettling a pit bull at his feet, and fumbled with his cane, unexpectedly shaky compared to his earlier smooth wood working skills. “That’s what your old man would have done.” He moved quickly to the door.

Red chased after him.

Vic called out, “I’m here to help, I swear.”

Shrugging at him, she trotted outside. Mike needed someone right now. She intersected him and climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck. “I volunteered to be your wheelwoman, remember.”

Mike grumbled and made his way to the passenger side and pulled himself inside, taking a puff on his inhaler. He offered short directions, eschewing the off-road path for the main road, probably deciding that the old truck shouldn’t make the rough journey. Or that she didn’t know it well as she did. It wasn’t until the third turn that Red realized that they weren’t going back to his house.

“Where are we going?” She asked. “Post office?”

“You up for another drive?” Mike asked.

She nodded, too curious to deny him. “We need to tell Vic.”

He grumbled, “Tony’s already told him, I bet.”

“Ah, the lakehouse shaman.”

“That boy ain’t wrong. Nicole could be gone. That doesn’t mean we need to wait on tests. Its something I’ve thought about but never tried. Talking to the dead ain’t easy, cheap, or safe. Her spirit doesn’t need to say anything, I reckon.”

It wasn’t scientific like a paternity test, but it was a sign.

If Nicole were dead, Red couldn’t be her. She didn’t know much about herself, but her heart still thumped in her chest. A part of it didn’t want to know the answer. She wanted to go back to fixing that wall, pretending she had a dad.

---

Driving along the expansive Lake Tahoe, the old Ford rumbled its way to Deer Crest where million-dollar homes overlooked the water. Mike directed her to drive up the road to one tucked away from the others in some trees. She parked on the curb and guided him onto the sidewalk.

Smaller than the McMansions in the neighborhood, the light blue paint was a flag of rebellion compared to the standard beiges. A yellow Subaru sat in the driveway. The graveled yard had a small Zen garden of white and black stones with a small buddha in the center.

Red couldn’t figure out if the front door were decorated with a dreamcatcher or a wreath even after they had stepped up to the fringed curio. A small wooden plaque depicted a smiling pixie and a motto—this house believes in fairies. If the occupants did, they were better off not letting the Fae know it. She expected a cutesy welcome mat but was disappointed by a dull woven rug.

Even if her magic abilities couldn’t light a match, she usually got a tingle in her spine around magic or paranormal energies. She only felt the breeze. Her heart sank. This place might as well have had a sign reading New Age Charlatan on it.

“Are you sure this is the right house?”

“Heard it from Jake,” Mike said the name as if reputation was enough explanation. He knocked on the door before she could tell him it wasn’t.

Flipflop steps echoed behind the closed door. It opened to reveal a blond man in a marigold yellow tunic shirt and matching baggy trousers. A rose quartz necklace hung below a grumpy expression. His British accent came out stiffly polite and to the point. “Hello, I don’t need any magazines, nor do I want to sign any petitions. Thank you and good day.” He started closing the door.

Mike stopped it with his cane. “I’m a friend of Henry Constantine. He said your name was—”

The shaman sighed. He poked his head out and looked down the street. “I’d rather we not exchange introductions.”

Mike smiled. “Outside, best not.” He tapped his cane on the threshold in an exaggerated manner, lumbering forward through the door, and brushed the homeowner aside, far more clumsy than usual.

Guessing the sly gambit for shock and sympathy to get inside, Red stage whispered to the shaman. “He’s blind.”

“Fine fine, welcome to my home by all means.” The shaman waved them through to a living room.

It was attached to a kitchen, half separated by a curved sink counter. Other than a breakfast table and single chair, the furniture was bunched in the center of the living area and covered with plastic sheets. Paint cans lay waiting in the corners for the bare walls. The only thing that looked mystical in the place was a stout pillar of white selenite crystal, a powerful magical conduit, by a sliding glass door to the back yard.

“I’m named Basil Bansko, whatever Henry told you.”

“Henry told me you had powers,” Mike said.

“Did he tell you what?” Basil lifted his eyebrows, fear crept into his gaze.

“You can communicate with souls,” Mike said. “Talk to the dead.”

Even though the shaman’s arched posture didn’t change, Red could have sworn that he relaxed at the old hunter’s last words. She was still convinced he wasn’t a shaman, but now she wondered what he was hiding.

“I already repaid my debt to Constantine and I don’t do freebies for his friends.” Basil pulled out an iridescent business card from a deep pocket in his tunic. A holographic dove seemed to flap on the paper as he handed it to Mike. Optical illusion; not magic. The job title read Hollywood Shaman. This must have been his country home. He patted the other man on the shoulder, nudging him to the door. “You can make an appointment like everyone else. My pricing is available upon request.”

Mike’s shoulders slumped. He certainly didn’t have money for anything where you had to inquire about the price, and he was too proud to ask for charity.

Red wasn’t.

“Can you do it for Henry’s memory then?” she asked.

“He is...” The shaman looked away, face stiffening. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Neither have us have much,” she said. “Just hear Mike out. Nicole Fontaine is his daughter. She is missing and presumed dead, we just want to know if you see her on the other side. We don’t need a séance.”

“There isn’t an afterlife directory,” Basil said. “I can’t just look her up.”

“Is there any way you can find a sign?”

“Possibly yet I promise nothing beyond brief hospitality.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’ll fetch us some drinks, we’ll need to sit al fresco if I am to truly entertain you.”

Red talked Mike around the huddled furniture in the living room and the table in the attached kitchen then through the sliding door to an outside patio table.

Raised from the sloping yard with a perfect view of a private patch of forested lakefront, the deck ran nearly length of the house. On the other side, an in-ground jacuzzi lay uncovered a few feet from by a worktable with collection of power tools and wood left from a project. A rock tumbler sat with the other equipment like an afterthought. It created a low grinding sound as crystals smoothed inside. How much did the Hollywood Shaman sell those for?

She popped her head back inside. “Do you need any help?”

“I shudder at the thought,” Basil said briskly. “I’ll make the drinks and you can hunt the supernatural.”

“Deal.” She returned to her seat.

Mike asked her questions about the landscaping and the new deck, curious about what Hardware Store Jake’s brother-in-law had done with it. The varnish smell still lingered in the air despite the fragrant rosemary bushes by the wooden steps to the yard.

Basil bought out three glasses adorned with orange peels and set them on the table. “These are Negronis. Well, Red is just getting cranberry juice, but I garnished hers the same.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bansko,” Mike said.

Red echoed the sentiment, struck by the sight of the orange-tinged lake as a fat sun hung low over the horizon. Wind chimes made a song in the breeze. It felt so peaceful for a brief second until the shaman spoke again.

“The least I can do for Mike Fontaine, the vampire hunter. You can call me, Basil.”

“Henry told you about me?”

“Reputation did. I’ll toast any person who slays one of those creatures. Thank you for your service.”

“That’s how you met Henry, isn’t it?” Mike asked. “Something about a vamp in Madison.”

Lips pursed, Basil took a stiff drink of his cocktail. “I haven’t grown sweeter on them.”

Mike chuckled.

Basil gave Red a considering look. “I can guess that you have had your own history with them.”

“How do you know about that? Reputation or a ghost?” She asked, hoping not. Her last big job in the Midwest was one better left in the rearview.

Basil smiled enigmatically. “Be sure to tell Vic Constantine that I said hello.”

She caught herself boggling at him. She hadn’t mentioned her boss once. “Just one of those shaman things? Can you help with memories?”

“I may know some tricks for a price.”

“Well, I’ll put my pennies towards Mike’s case,” Red said. “Whoever was involved with his daughter’s disappearance is coming after him.”

Basil froze. Paling, he turned to gawk at the old hunter. He whispered, “Vidal de la Muerte Hurtado.”

“How do you know that name?” Mike demanded, eyes widening. “Did Nicole tell you that? Was that who killed her?”

“This is over.” Basil stood up, knocking the table with his knee in his haste to get away from them. “I want no part in anything to do with vampires.”

“What are you sensing?” Red asked. The deck lights came on, diffusing the growing shadows of twilight. More security lights flickering on at the edges of the yards. Dread knotted her stomach.

“That I need to go inside and barricade my door,” the shaman said. “You should both go back wherever you came. If Vidal is after you, you should just keep running.” He bowed his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where did you park?”

“Out front,” Mike said grimly.

“Bloody hell,” Basil grabbed his drink and spun to go into the kitchen, he waved frantically at them. “Get inside before anyone sees us! Were you followed?”

“I don’t think so.” Red scanned the perimeter. The house was surrounded by trees, isolated from the others in the neighborhood. Darkness had fallen quickly, leaving plenty of places to hide in the gloom beyond the exterior lights. She went with Mike back into the house. She had a phantom tickle on the back of her neck like an energy she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t harmful, but her unease grew. Now, she had a inkling why Henry Constantine thought the Hollywood Shaman had power.

“Who is this guy?” she asked.

Mike sat down with a sigh at the breakfast table, head bowed. “If he’s the one who’s had my daughter…” His shoulders shook.

Red instinctively went to comfort him but stopped herself. The house had felt normal when they had arrived but something in the air felt wrong. Her witchy senses were on high alert. “Basil, you didn’t just pick up that name from him. It means something to you. Who is Vidal?”

The shaman’s eyes turned distant. “We’ve met. Two centuries old, he considers himself a gentleman fiend.”

“He’s a god damn scourge.” The older hunter collected himself, straightening his back. A hard glint entered his eyes. His face took on a dark cast. It was an expression that would make any dead man recoil. “Most vampires go for the kill. Not Vidal. He went for the pain, feeding off it like blood. I knew his trademark before I ever saw his face.”

“How’d you cross paths?”

“I spent most of the 70s and 80s nest-kicking with Willa.”

Red lifted her eyebrows. Nest-kicking was hardcore, it was torching a vampire’s home and staking whatever came out. It was more difficult than it sounded even back in the day when the Blood Alliance was weaker, and the unsouled vamp population had been thinned out by soul curse and the August Harvest.

Mike coughed and puffed desperately on his inhaler. “Mostly country lairs. The DVA was sloppier then, it was easier to see the patterns in the crime reports. I followed the bodies—”

“This is all fabulous backstory but—” Basil ground his teeth. “I need to know who is going to protect me. If he is after you, what happened when you leave? Vidal might arrive next to find out what I know. I don’t understand your business with him, and I don’t want too. Fetch me a guard and I will consider helping you.”

“You got us,” Mike grunted. “Might as well do something shamanic while we’re here.”

“I’ll bring Vic in too.” Red pulled out her cellphone to find he had already messaged her. She typed out the address then started to call him. The hair stood up on the back of her neck as a demonic aura brushed up against her own. She spun around to the glass door to the patio.

Pale eyes stared back at her from outside. Dressed like a stylish undertaker, the man’s face was unnerving corpse-like in the harsh flood lights even with the high spots of color on his cheeks. White fangs elongated over his ruby-red lips. This vampire had fed recently, yet hungry anticipation shone in his amber-tinged gaze. He was ready for more.

Red jumped back, phone still halfway to her ear. Vic’s tiny voice called out to her. “Is that Vidal?” she asked the others.

The dead man laughed and slung a brick through the sliding door. It was enough confirmation for her.

She dodged the projectile, protecting her face from flying glass, and dropped her phone.

The vampire was gone when she looked up.

“Where’d Vidal go?” Basil asked huddling behind the pile of furniture.

Another brick answered him. A flaming torch followed. Red darted to the attached kitchen and pulled out the hosed sink aiming it over the counter and towards the fire in the living room. The water almost made it, creating a puddle.

“My herringbone floors!” The shaman jumped up and kicked the torch towards the stream.

Red turned off the faucet as the torch went out.

“This is a game.” Mike cocked his ear to listen.

“Don’t panic, he can’t get in,” she said, walking towards the broken door.

“I know but he can burn my house down!” Basil whimpered.

“Nest kicking,” she whispered. There wasn’t a moment to process the insight when a metallic flash drew her attention.

Mike lifted his cane and revealed the sword from its depths. Light reflected on its razor shape edge. He tossed the sheath away. “Basil, did Nicole tell you that Vidal was coming?”

Red stepped in front of him in case he charged out. She looked behind her shoulder at the yard. Her jaw dropped. “He’s not alone.”

Vidal strutted towards the desk, holding a leash attached to a tall woman behind him.

Human, she struggled against the dog collar around her neck. Her pupils looked dilated even from afar, irises seemingly completely absorbed so Red couldn’t tell the true color. The bright exterior lights brought out the fear in her young face, old scars and new bite marks marred her pale arms. Her red hair was going prematurely grey. She was dressed in a short pink negligee with a fuzzy hem line and a matching leotard underneath. The clothes looked fresh from the packaging, creased from factory folding, as if it were a costume hastily put on. From the leash to the outfit, the women had been set up as a visual taunt to Bill.

Red was almost glad he was blind.

Vidal jerked on the leash. “Scream for your daddy, darling Nicole. Tell him how much you love him. He’s waited so long to see you.”

Mike tore the sliding glass door open, thrusting his sword outside, instinct driving him forward. “Nicky!”

Red rushed forward to grab his arm. “Stop! He wants you to go. We don’t know who that is.”

Basil crept to the threshold, carefully keeping himself out of view of the vampire. Sweat rolled down his face. It soaked the armpits of his tunic shirt. “That’s the lost daughter.”

Lungs constricting too tight to breathe, Red knew it was true. The other woman had Mike’s tall build and his mother’s cleft chin. Even from inside the house, she could see they were related.

“Dad?” Nicole Fontaine lifted wide eyes, her voice slurred as if her thoughts were wading through sedatives to get to her mouth. “Is that—no, it can’t be? What game is this?”

“Our game is finally coming to an end, dear girl.” Vidal stroked his captive’s cheek. “Mike Fontaine, my old friend, I wanted to return something, but I’ve had a devil of a time finding you. Who knew you’d end up in my own neighborhood? I’m a little hurt that you didn’t knock on my door first.”

The vampire said the last part like a bored affectation, but Red could tell it wasn’t exactly sarcasm. He studied the older hunter’s face like it was a book he couldn’t put down.

“Stay inside, Dad!” Nicole yelled, scratching at the collar on her neck, pulling at the rope connecting her to Vidal’s iron grip.

“God damn it,” Mike called out, inching closer to the broken glass door. “Is this about Richard?”

“My blood brother was a beautiful idiot.” Vidal sighed. The show of grief was short lived. “His final death certainly got me sympathy with the DVA director when it came my indiscretions.” He giggled at his own cunning.

“More hunters are coming. Let my child go unharmed now.”

Vidal kept up his high-pitched aristocratic chortle. “Oh, she is far from unharmed. Its why I’m handed her back over. I’ve grown—” he wrinkled his nose— ”bored.”

Mike surged forward with unexpected strength, breaking from Red’s grip. He darted over the deck, down the steps between the rosemary bushes, and into the yard. All his earlier questions about the garden must have been stored into the old man’s memories because he navigated as well as he did his own land.

Red pulled holy water from her hunter’s kit, rushing after him.

“No, don’t leave me!” Basil said, cringing by the door, tugging at her hand.

“Is that a soulmancer that I hear? I thought I killed you in Miami. So, you’re the one with the tackiest house on the block bringing down my resale value!” Vidal giggled again. “Oh, this night is turning out unexpectedly serendipitous.” He curled the leash around his fist, bringing Nicole closer as a human shield.

Soulmancer? Red looked back at Basil. That was his real power? There was only one thing a vampire feared and that was the special kind of magic users who manipulated the soul instead of elements or mystical energy. She hissed, “Curse him, already!”

“I don’t pop out souls!” Basil cowered and whispered, “It’s forbidden, draining, and I’d rather you kill him.”

Red tore herself out of his grasp and ran down the deck steps. She calculated pulling out her gun, but she wasn’t a good enough shot to not hit Nicole. She held a small jar of holy water behind her back and flicked the rubber lid off.

Silent, thin sword at ready, Mike faced his enemy. His head was cocked to the side, keeping the vampire in what was left of his vision. The yard lights cast long shadows behind them like wild west duelers in one of his westerns.

Vidal shook his head, clicking his tongue in pity. “You looked less like Father Christmas when we last met, Fontaine. I can hear your clogged arteries from here.”

Mike didn’t respond, ear perked up to hear his foe.

“It’s always a shame when you have to put down an old dog. You’ve been a faithful source of amusement for so long.” The vampire draped an arm over Nicole. “Generations of it.”

Mike grunted out, “She wasn’t a part of it.”

Vidal shrugged. “No, but after you retired and left the game, I was so bored.”

“You’re a fucking sadist.” Nicole spat at his feet, pulling away from him even as the dog collar dug into her throat.

“Such language in front of your paterfamilias. You should be grounded. You will be soon enough.” Vidal grinned. “Mike, I would have expected more gratitude that I got rid of your bitch of an ex-wife and returned your pup.” He lifted his left hand as if to pontificate further.

Mike’s sword flashed in a quick stroke slicing through the vampire’s fingers, cleaving three in half.

Vidal shrieked drawing back his hand, he pulled his other arm against Nicole’s chest bringing her closer. Pain soured his earlier delight. “You couldn’t last a round against me now, Fontaine. I can kill you one handed.”

Stepping quickly to the vampire’s side, Red threw holy water at his face.

He recoiled.

Nicole kicked against him, pulling herself free.

Red rushed forward, splashing the last of the holy water jar at the demon, to distract him from his victim.

Vidal backhanded her into Nicole, knocking them to the ground.

Red scrambled up, tugging the other woman with her. Sluggish, Nicole was unsteady on her feet, plodding towards the deck.

“Get inside the house,” Red ordered and turned back to the fight. She pulled out a short stake from her kit.

Mike blocked the vampire from following, swinging the sword at his foe’s neck.

Vidal dodged the blade. He giggled again. The blistering skin on his face made his gleeful smile more ghoulish. “Your daughter was a filthy bleeder, I let any vamp have a drop.” He sprinted, form blurring from his speed, to appear behind the old swordsman.

Mike pivoted quicker than expected for a man of his age and girth. It was as if the decades had been lifted from him in the defense of his child and he was a young hunter again. His muscles moved from hard experience using only hearing and movements in the light to guide him. He slashed a crossed Vidal’s face, creating a furrow in the dead flesh.

Holding his bleeding cheek, Vidal jumped aside, back to Red and beckoned to Mike. He chuckled. “Oh, Fontaine, this is why I kept you around all these years.”

Red crept behind the vampire and jumped, stake ready for his heart.

Vidal twisted and grabbed her in mid-air. “Is this another daughter, you scallywag?” he asked Mike before tossing her into the patio table, sending her skidding with the furniture across the deck.

Shielding her head, Red had a second to brace herself for impact on the intact side of the sliding door. Please don’t hit it, please don’t hit it.

A surge of energy like a boiling tea kettle erupted from inside her. She stopped an inch from the glass, boggling at the selenite crystal behind it, and landed on the wood floor. Trembling, she tried to focus on the sudden energy, but the magic receded, slipping from her grasp. She lifted herself up, panting.

Mike was holding his own against the vampire who batted at him like a cat with a mouse. It turned her stomach. This was all a sick pastime to Vidal, and it would last as long as his amusement did.

Kneeling, Red unholstered the revolver from her hunter’s kit and aimed it at the vampire.

“Not here! You’ll bring the cops!” Basil flapped his hand at her. “Get in—”

Vidal appeared as if teleported, tugging the gun out of her hands and throwing it far into the yard. His face had already healed. He kicked her in the shoulder, hard as a mule.

Knees creaking painfully, Red slammed back again. No instinctive magic sprung out this time. Her head cracked against a chair, bouncing her brain against her skull.

“He is correct. We have a sound ordinance here.” Vidal slammed Basil’s temple against the doorframe and left him slumped in the threshold. “I’ll get to him later. I think right now, it’s time for family.”

Dazed, Red searched the ground for her lost stake. Vidal batted it from her hands then kicked her hip. Pain erupted from her side. He shattered a vial of holy water inside her kit. The glass poked at her through the leather as the precious fluid ran down her leg. Weaponless and staring up at a monster, she had the sudden delirious relief that she had gone to the bathroom earlier.

Mike jogged up the steps, sword in one hand and inhaling on his puffer with the other.

Red motioned for him to run as the vampire’s attention turned from her. She scanned the deck looking for something to get the bastard with. There might have been more weapons in the truck but when the seconds counted, losing a minute to run to the front of the house mattered. A buzzsaw glinted at her from the abandoned power tools by the jacuzzi on the other side of the patio. She steadied herself on a fallen chair and rose to her feet.

“Don’t tell me you’re slowing down, old man.” Vidal sighed. “I’ve gone to so much to arrange this reunion.”

“I’ve gotten your gifts.” Mike snorted like a bull, dropping his shoulders to barrel towards the vampire.

Red darted around Basil, prone in the doorway, and towards the buzzsaw on the worktable. She lifted from it next to the vibrating rock tumbler. Damn it. The saw was corded and tangled to a jumble of others on a power strip. Wasn’t Basil rich enough to have an uncorded model so she would run at Vidal in an homage to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Mike’s curse made her look over her shoulder.

Vidal stepped neatly away from the hunter, hands behind his back. He shook his head, huffing a bored sigh. “I had hoped for more from our epic rematch before I tore your daughter to pieces in front of you. This is what I get for building it up.”

No time to untangle its cord, Red set the buzzsaw back on the table and crouched to grab a 2x4 piece of wood. She tiptoed towards the men. If she could knock Vidal down, Mike could hack his head off. Crude but its not like they had time to coordinate.

The vampire blocked Mike’s thrusting sword, spinning to elbow him in the nose. A disappointed childish pout appeared on his immortal face. “Humans just don’t keep as well as wine. I should have come for you years ago.”

Mike staggered back, blood dripping from his nostrils and into his white beard.

Licking his lips, Vidal advanced on him. “Now yours is a vintage that I’ve never tasted. I supposed its time I brushed the dust off the bottle and cracked it open.”

She sprung forward to defend Mike.

Nicole raced out from the house and hopped on Vidal first. Shrieking, she stabbed him over and over in the neck with a kitchen steak knife, eyes wild and rolling, teeth bared like an animal. Her pupils had shrunk, revealing the edge of green irises. Whatever he had drugged her with, she was coming down hard and taking him with her.

Vidal threw her off the deck into a heap in the grass. His face had drained to a chalky white, blood glinted darkly on his black suit. Vampires could only heal so much between feedings and he had already taken damage. He winced from true pain. No amusement twinkled in his psychotic eyes. Nicole had hit something vital in him.

Mike rushed forward, impaling Vidal in the throat with his sword.

The vampire shoved him aside and hobbled backwards, blade jutting from the center of his neck. He pulled it out with a pained gurgle and stabbed it into the patio.

Red slammed a plank of wood against his face like a major league slugger sending him backwards towards the jacuzzi. The hum of the rock tumbler grew as she pressed in on the demon. It gave her an idea.

Vidal caught the next blow and ripped the board from her hand. “I said family only! Not strays.”

She kicked him hard in the balls, ears buzzing with his words.

He groaned doubling over.

She pushed him into the still waters of the jacuzzi and darted to the still grinding rock tumbler. She threw it in after the vampire. Its cord swiped the table clear with a clatter of tools, taking the attached power strip into the water. Sparks flew up.

Vidal flailed and splashed, his black hair standing on end, eyes bugging out of his sockets. Blood seeped around him like dye. His hands groped the side for purchase and triggered the spa jets. He slipped under the red bubbles, limbs contorting in the electrified water.

Red backed away to find her dropped stake. Electrocution wouldn’t finish off a vampire.

Mike and Nicole leaned on each other as they staggered from the yard onto the deck. He pulled his upright sword out of the floor. Face bloody, eyes wet, he handed the blade to his daughter.

Vidal surged out of the water, skin cracked with red and black fissures. His fangs dripped venom. He crawled out of the hot tub, eyes glowing amber.

Nicole lifted the blade up and hacked at his neck, blood splattered her face. Her dilated eyes were like dark empty pools. It took three messy chops.

Vidal’s head dropped along with his body, decaying to their rightful state, lifetimes too late. His skeleton slipped into the foam leaving his skull behind on the floor.

Red looked down, waiting until she heard the sword fall.

The other woman sniffed loudly, wiping her nose on her arm, smearing more blood on her cheeks. She slumped, knees wobbling.

Mike gathered his daughter up his arms, stroking her hair, eyes closed. “I’m here, Little Nicky, I’m here.”

Nicole sobbed quietly against his shoulder. “Dad.”

Lump in her throat at the intimate scene, Red closed her eyes. She repeated over and over in her head that this was just a job. It didn’t help the ache in her heart. She tiptoed passed them to check on Basil, helping the dazed man to his feet.

“Where is your fuse box? I think we should turn the electricity to the exterior off,” she said sheepishly surveying the bones floating on the deadly bubbling water.

“Dear god, what happened to my hot tub?” he asked, wincing at the sight.

“Just fish the dead dude out, scrub really well. It’ll be fine.” Red patted him on the back. “We killed the bad guy.”

Surprisingly, panic flashed on his face. Basil whispered, “No one can know what I am. You know what vampires do to my kind when they find us. This is a very comfortable nest I’ve built.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

The sound of a parking car drifted from the front of the house. She didn’t have long to ponder the new arrival when Vic sprinted in into the back yard, slowing as he came onto the deck. “What the hell happened? Whose that?” He pointed at the woman leaning on Mike.

Red smiled, heart both happy and heavy in her chest. “The real Nicole Fontaine.”

---

Red volunteered to drive Mike’s pickup truck and follow the others in the Millennium Falcon to the local hospital. A sad old country song was playing on the radio when she turned on the engine. She left it on for the drive on the lonely highway. It suited her mood. She ached all over and had a bump growing on the back of her head, but she held it together for most of the ride.

Then she noticed the little daddy long legs spider from earlier wasn’t in its web by the visor.

Such a small thing reminded her of everything she had lost tonight, none of it had ever been hers. She had reunited a family, but it felt like she had lost a chance at her own. Face burning from anger at herself, she cried bitter tears that tasted like grief. She had done exactly what Vic told her not too.

October 18th, Midnight, Deer Crest Hospital, Nevada

In the hospital, Red stared at the waiting room clock. She breathed in, counting to seven in her head, and then breathed out slowly. Her thoughts still tumbled in her mind, grinding against each other, but the deep breathing kept her from jumping out of her skin. Her cheeks stayed dry as the clock ticked, and time passed.

Mike had bolted from the van when they had arrived, half carrying Nicole with Vic to the emergency room entrance. The woman had slipped into unconsciousness on the ride. The father and daughter were whisked away by staff. Basil had scowled when the desk nurse told him to wait with them in the lobby. Soon enough he had been taken back for an evaluation, yet he had lingered with Red and Vic on a row of plastic seats by the vending machine.

“Meditating over there?” Vic asked, chomping on a Dorito chip, fingers neon orange from the powder.

She snorted. “I find your chewing very soothing.”

Basil huffed. “It’s truly enchanting, Vic. I am amazed by your charm and charisma as I always am when our paths cross.”

Vic rolled his eyes and wiped his hands off with a napkin. “Well, you’re a cruddy shaman.”

“And you were tardy to a hunt,” Basil said archly in his posh British accent.

“Hey, we already covered it.” She shook her head. Tony had been too distracted by his arriving volunteers to tell Vic right away where she and Mike had gone. None of them would have expected what happened next. “I still don’t understand how you knew Vidal was coming.”

“I didn’t but paranoia has always served me well. Hunting that beast left a mark on Mike. Obviously, the feeling was mutual. I couldn’t help up read it. ” Basil glared, seemingly annoyed with himself for saying so much. “I don’t talk about those abilities in public.”

The elevator opened and Mike stepped out. The blood had been cleaned up, leaving his beard pure white again. A bandage rested on his swollen nose. He walked out with a nurse guiding him. His pace was a slow hobble, yet he moved if a burden had been lifted. A small smile brightened up the bruises on his face.

Red and Vic launched themselves out of their chairs to him.

“Hey, man, what’s going on?” Vic asked.

Mike patted the nurse on the hand and thanked her before asking for privacy. He waited until she had retreated. “Nicole is resting. The doctors are still running tests, but she’s strong. Damn strong. Once that junk is out of her system, we’ll know more.”

Red smiled. Her heart fluttered at his joy, making her eyes water. “You got her back and that’s what counts now.”

Vic coughed, discretely dabbing at his own eyes with his sleeve. “I called my alchemist buddy, their intel has Vidal moving alone to Deer Crest a few months ago, probably looking for you. But rumor has it he was on double secret probation after breaking the Black Veil. My guy doesn’t think the Blood Alliance is going to send the DVA to investigate.” He grinned and raised his hand for a shake. “I think you are in the clear for a new life with your daughter.”

Mike pulled him in for a hug and patted his back roughly. “Henry would be proud of you, boy.” He drew back from Vic and turned to Red.

She toed the ground. “Do you need anyone to feed the dogs?”

“Tony took care of it.” Mike rested his big palm on her shoulder, smiling kindly. “I’m going to be taken care of too. And so will you, if Constantine here doesn’t want me sticking a boot in his ass.”

Vic shrugged. “I accept that.”

Mike brought her into a big bearhug. “You’re a good kid. Any family would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you.” She let herself sink into his arms before moving away to stand by Vic. “We’re probably going to be rolling out of town before she is ready for visitors but tell Nicole that it was good to meet her.”

“All that stabbing sounded badass. Bummed I missed it,” Vic said.

A nurse stepped to them. “Excuse me, but Mr. Fontaine, there is another form we need you to fill out.”

“Go on, Sergeant, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Vic saluted him.

Mike nodded and made his goodbyes before the nurse led him away.

Red carefully breathed through her nose, counting to ten, keeping her expression blank. She told herself the job was over. It was time to move on.

“Sooo,” Basil said behind them. “I made a deal earlier for protection. Can I still have guards for the night? I don’t want me be alone. My guest bedrooms are furnished.”

“You strike a hard bargain,” Vic said, motioning for them to follow him to the van in the parking lot.

Red was too lost in her own thoughts to even care where she spent the night. By the time they had reached the highway, Basil was asleep in the back of the van. It had reached that time of night when the road held a dreamy quality as the world shrunk to only what the headlamps could illuminate.

Vic fiddled with the radio, flipping between stations to avoid commercials. He scowled as he hit a row of them and leaned back in the driver’s seat. “Hey, intern, hanging in there?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, stomach twisting under her crossed arms. Sighing, she shook her head. “But you were right.”

“I wasn’t looking for validation of my genius. I mean it. How are you?”

“I’m so happy for Mike and Nicole. They can make up for lost time.” She looked away from him to the desert shadows. The words were true, yet a tear streamed down her cheek anyway. “I just wish it was me.”

---

The next morning, Basil made them a lovely breakfast spread. Hungrier than usual, Red was grateful when he had made enough for seconds. The chaos of the night before hadn’t been cleaned up, leaving her feeling like a destructive squatter. He forked more tomatoes on their plates as he pronounced, “I’ll do a memory recovery session with Red, but I have a price.”

“What? We helped kill your local neighborhood vampire,” Vic said. “Doesn’t that get us freebies from the Hollywood Shaman? This sweet pad is your vacation home for crying out loud.”

“You’ve run up some credit in my book but don’t push it. Vidal didn’t find me until he saw Mike’s truck and took a peek inside. That unpleasantness is behind us—” Basil narrowed his eyes at his ruined sliding glass door— “yet the clean up remains. I need help getting this place in order.”

“That’s the price?” Red shrugged. She had already been planning on helping him tidying up. “Sure.”

“I’ll have the supplies ready for the ceremony.” Basil smiled and handed her a juice glass. “Allow yourself to remain open minded. It’s best to start on my abode before our trip.”

“Trip?” Red asked but Basil had already bounded away to wash a dish.

She had expected to sweep up, maybe board up a window, but Basil handed them a veritable Honey-do list. After the actual fight damage had been sorted, Vic and Red were suckered into painting the living room while the Hollywood Shaman took a nap upstairs.

As they waited for the first coat of Mouse Gray to dry, Red leaned again the kitchen counter and slurped down some water. The doors and windows were open to the sunshine and fresh air, but the paint fumes clung in her nostrils. “I think he Tom Sawyer’d us.”

“Yeah, whitewashing this wall wasn’t as much fun as he promised,” Vic said, shirtless, drinking a beer.

“He’s a soulmancer, why didn’t you take me to him before?”

“Can’t afford his prices.” Vic shrugged. “Haven’t heard from him in a long time. Didn’t know where he was or what name he was under. Didn’t think he’d be happy to see someone with vamp trouble, past or present, anyway.”

“Can he help me?”

“I don’t know. We don’t know why you don’t remember.” Vic set his beer down and walked towards the paint cans. “Huff some more paint and you might feel better about it.”

She snorted and picked up a brush roller. “I might already be high.”

They finished the walls before Basil came down. She showered and changed into sketchy yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt. Whatever this ceremony was, she wanted to be comfortable. The last 48 hours had worn her out.

The soulmancer had played coy about the details so she hoped he had all the supplies ready. It wasn’t as if she had anything from her past life anymore. She cursed herself for not keeping a scrap of the boots that she had kept from being taken as evidence by the cops when she had been found. The pair had fallen apart months ago. After paying a series of psychics to feel over the boots, she got only cryptic darkness for an answer. Hope was a hard habit to lose. What if Basil would be the lucky break she needed?

Vic popped his head into her bedroom. “We’re taking a walk down to the lake.”

Basil met them at the foot of the stairs in purple sunglasses and a yellow linen blazer with matching shorts. A basket hung on his arm covered by a woven southwestern blanket. “Have you eaten?”

Red shook her head, nervously tucking a loose hair behind her ear.

“Splendid.” He smiled, and motion them on. “It’ll hit you quicker then.”

“My questions begin and end with ‘what’ and ‘huh?’” Red said. “Is this a soulma—”

“Not so loud, my dear.” Basil opened the sliding glass door that Vic had repaired and took them outside onto the deck. They had left it neater than before. The power tools and table were gone, and the hot tub was covered.

The only sign of the night’s turmoil was a brown patch of grass marked where they had dragged Vidal Hurtado’s skeleton to be scorched to dust by the dawn.

“What are we doing?” she asked as they walked through the yard to the lake. Basil’s section of beach was thankfully shielded from his neighbors by trees.

“Usually, I would do this at night but considering everything, I thought a picnic would be more soothing.” Basil patted his basket. “When I read that horrid vampire’s name off Mike, I wasn’t reading his mind. He was in such a state that his soul was broadcasting to me. I don’t get a narrative, I get tidbits like names in passing. I merely recognized Vidal’s. Unfortunately, I can’t turn a key and open the door to all your secrets.”

Red lowered her head, disappointed.

“What are doing then?” Vic asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it all morning. If her memories are only blocked on the conscious level, then the truth might be buried deeper.”

“Soul deep?” she asked.

Nodding, Basil directed them to an aspen, leaves already turning yellow. He draped a blanket over the ground and knelt on it, pulling out shells, cones of incense, and other bobbles from his basket.

Red sat cross legged opposite him, Vic joined her. Water lapped gently against the shore. The fall foliage blocked most of the late afternoon sun. She stretched her neck, telling herself to relax.

Basil handed her a small cellophane-wrapped piece of fudge. “Eat that.”

“How magical is this?” Red asked then nibbled on the earthy tasted dark chocolate, able to chew the entire thing in two bites.

“Less than you’d think,” Basil said dryly, pouring green fluid from a mason jar into a shot glass.

Vic raised his eyebrow. “Can I try some?”

The soulmancer ignored him to hand Red the potion. “Plug your nose first.”

She followed his advice while swallowing and it still tasted like a compost pile. Gagging, she accepted a water bottle from Vic. Her stomach recoiled at the foul intrusion. She swished water in her mouth before stumbling up to spit the aftertaste away from the blanket. Wiping her chin, she turned back to them. “Holy fuck, that was nasty.”

Basil shrugged cheerfully. “Think of it as a lubrication for the mind.”

“I don’t want any of that,” Vic clarified earnestly.

“Sit, Red, enjoy the sights,” Basil patted the ground next to him. “Tell me about yourself. I’m supposed to find the answers to all your questions. Where do I start?”

She would have rather take another gulp of his potion. It wasn’t like opening up to strangers had done her any favors lately. She sat anyway. Hunched over, elbows on her knees, acutely aware of Vic watching her, she dispassionately described the road so far. She finished by adding, “And we know for certain that I am not a Fontaine. Paternity test came back this morning.”

Vic scratched his chin, hiding a cringe. “You overheard that, huh?”

She licked her dry lips before nodding, deciding to drink more water than explain.

Basil entwined his fingers with her free hand, his palm soft and warm against hers. “Can I get a sense of your magic? I know this is bold to ask.”

“Um, sure.” Red frowned, not knowing what kind of witchy etiquette was involved. “As long as I don’t need to do anything.”

He closed his eyes, brow furrowing. “Hmmm.”

“Hmmm what?” Vic asked, surprisingly quicker than Red.

“You have a capacity for great magic.” Brow furrowed, Basil let go of her hand. “More precisely, you have the storage space for it. I’m not a witch so I don’t exactly know the lingo.”

Red thought back to the near collision with the glass door. It wasn’t the first time that magic had bubbled up within her from mortal terror. The trouble was that she could barely harness that energy even after studying Vic’s supernatural texts. “Well, I don’t have much filling it. I can barely float a pencil without getting a migraine and needing to eat and take a nap.”

“Practice, you might be surprised. I am,” Basil said. “The soul is like IKEA furniture, you get the parts and then you build the rest over a lifetime of actions and choices. You’re a good person but there is something missing. More than suppressed memories, it’s like life experience has been sanded and varnished over. I can’t see what was underneath.”

Red rolled up her black sleeve to reveal her still pink and mottled wrists. The skin paled and her old scars returned. She blinked. They were still there. She looked up. The lake swirled in her vision. “Oh, shit, I think I’m feeeeling it.” Her voice sounded distorted and slow in her ears.

“Are you okay?” Vic asked, waving a hand, fingers blurring in trace lines.

She smiled at him as her mind opened and a rainbow of Crayola colors spewed out. “I was meant to find you.” Her shoulders slumped and she fell forward in her lap. The head rush spun her entire world.

When she lifted her head, fire and ash churned in her vision. She wasn’t at the lake anymore.

Flames spread through the canyon below then smoke obscured the sight. Unseen screams ripped through the toxic air. Her eyes watered. She stood in the center of nine upright stone stabs, heart thumping in her chest. Magic flowed from her to the earth itself. There was more at stake than her life.

A man fought outside of the stone circle. Surrounded by an aura of blue streaked with gold, he was perfect to her. Tousled dark hair framed his gray eyes. Somehow, she knew none of the prowling monsters would get passed him.

The fire in the distance dimmed and grew smaller. Soon, it was no bigger than the flame on a birthday cake candle. The horizon turned into white frosting, a name was written in a sugary goo. Pieces of the cake was taken away leaving the name unreadable. The silver platter reflected her face.

She leaned over it, her fingers dipping through the metal like water. An unseen hand tugged her. Tumbling down, a wide skirt puffed around her cinched torso. She fell like Alice through the looking glass. Darkness swallowed her and she kept falling and falling and falling.

Red landed with a splash, water shooting up her nose, clothing twisting around her limbs. Primal instinct made her roll onto her back, arms spreading out. The bright sun kissed her face and told her that she was safe now. She floated on the water as peacefully as a lily pad. Or a corpse.

Her heart thumped in her chest telling her that she was still alive.

Vic waded into the lake. Leaning over her, he blocked out the sky. “Do you remember your family? What about your real name?”

Tears came to her eyes. There was no revelation in this baptismal. Chemical fireworks exploded in her brain, leaving her toes tingling. Then the hallucinations crested again, and she left lucidity behind once more.

October 19th, Morning, somewhere between Lake Tahoe and Carson City

It was a quiet goodbye the next day.

Red had vivid nightmares that dissolved to unsettling disjointed images like a reflection in a broken mirror. Whatever the potion had done, it hadn’t lubricated anything important from her mind like a family address. The last thing she remembered clearly was puking into a toilet with Vic holding her hair while Basil shouted encouragement from the next room.

Breakfast done, Vic took their duffle bags to the van, leaving her with the soulmancer. She was grateful to him even after spewing her guts. Every dead end was a possibility explored, another thing that she could cross off the list. It might not have brought her hope, but it was some kind of closure.

It would have to do for now.

Nursing a Bloody Mary, Basil sighed sadly at her. “I am sorry that I all I can offer is vague impressions of vampires and mortal struggle.”

“Thanks for trying.” She nodded, wanting to give him a participation ribbon. It wasn’t new information. Her dermatologist could have told her that.

“I handed it to Vic earlier, but I have something for you. It’s not your real name but you might like it. It’s a book on energy meditations for witches.”

Touched, she hugged Basil, surprising them both and drew back blushing. “I appreciate it.”

He grinned and said in a Midwestern accent. “Real names are overrated anyway. Mine’s Kevin.”

She blinked at him. “Huh, you don’t look like a Kevin.”

“Naturally.” He rolled his eyes as if there was no accounting for taste. Regaining his English accent, he led her to the front door. “You’re a blank slate, you could be anyone. That’s a freedom that few get. I love that moment when an alias is fresh, and life is what you make it.”

“Huh.” Red mulled over the unexpected notion and stepped outside. “I’ve never quite thought about it like that.”

“Enjoy the anonymity for a bit.” Basil winked at her. “I always have.”

She straightened her shoulders, seeing more promise in the road ahead. It was a beautiful day for a drive around the lake, at least.

---

Later in the Millennium Falcon, Vic drove in silence as she stared out the window with sunglasses on. She wasn’t sad, just introspective. Her body sagged in the front seat, body and brain chemicals wrung out from the strange trip. She didn’t notice that he had taken them to Tony’s until they parked in front of the barn.

“Gotta say goodbye to Sugar and the gang,” Vic explained, hopping out of the van.

She followed inside, immediately greeted by the little white dog. Serotonin flickered in her brain for the first time that day. She cuddled the dog as they walked to Tony sitting at a table.

Sugar leapt from her arms to go to the older man, dancing on back legs to be picked up.

Red laughed, sitting down beside Vic. “I guess she claimed you.”

Tony smiled and held the dog in his lap. “What princess wants, princess gets.”

“How’s Mike?” She asked. “I only talked to him a little bit yesterday.”

“He’s with Nicole. That’s better than we could have hoped for on this job.” The twinkle faded in Tony’s eyes. “My boys found Vidal’s lair. Wasn’t pretty what we hauled out but some of it was pawnable. The cut ain’t much.” He held out an envelope to Vic.

“Not why I came,” Vic said.

“You two still need to keep gas in the tank,” the other hunter glowered and shoved the envelope at him.

“True enough.” Vic tucked the packet inside his denim jacket without counting it.

“I heard from Julio that he needs all the hunters he can,” Tony said. “He bought an old hotel cheap.”

“Lemme guess its haunted as fuck?” Vic asked.

Tony shrugged. “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Why did your friend in Reno buy a hotel?” Red asked.

“The vamps are having a little get together in Cali soon, Julio figures a lot of hunters might decide it’s too hot for them there. Thinks he should hop on the demand,” Tony explained. “He’s ready with cash, has a lot of rooms to cleanse.”

“I’m in,” she said. “Let’s go today.”

“You sure?” Vic raised an eyebrow. “Not Vegas?”

“Might as well.” Red nodded. “We’re barely an hour away.”

Sure, she was mind fried, but psycho vampires were normal on a hunt even if psychedelics weren’t. She survived and somewhere out there, her real family was waiting for her. Where? Maybe only God knew. She still didn’t. This trip had cut to the core of her, but the best way to get over a job was to start another.

Mike Fontaine told her that.