higher than two stories. Santa Cruz was pure California, the best. As she drove, she watched a big, blond surfer climb out of a VW with a surfboard strapped to the roof. He was finishing off a drippy slice of pizza, heading into the Book Shop of Santa Cruz. Pure California. There was quite a mix of people here - post-hippies, high-tech start-up folks, transients, surfers, college kids. She liked it an awful lot. So where were the goddamn vampires hiding? Were they here? Did they know she was here in Santa Cruz looking for their gnarly asses? Were they among the surfers and post-hippies she was passing on the street? Her first stop was the town's police department. The lieutenant, Harry Conover, was totally surprised to see her in the flesh. She guessed he couldn't imagine any detective going out of his or her way on the job. 'I told you I'd pass along everything I found on the Goths and wannabe vamps. Didn't you believe me?' he asked. He shook his head of longish blond curls, rolled his soft brown eyes. Conover was tall, well-built, probably in his mid-thirties. Around her age. Jamilla could tell that he was a big flirt, and that he had a high opinion of himself. 'Sure I believed you. But I had today off, and this case is burning a hole right through me. So here I am. Harry. Better than e-mail, right? What do you have for me?' She sensed that he wanted to tell her to get a life, to enjoy her day off. She'd heard it all before, and maybe he was right. But not now, not with this case still on the boards. 'I read in a couple of the reports that some of the local ghouls might be living together commune-style. You have any idea where?' she asked. Conover shook his head, and even pretended to be concerned. He was also checking her out, she could tell. Obviously, he was a breast man. 'We never got any confirmation of that,' he said. 'Kids crash together, of course, but I don't know about any commune. There are a couple of hot clubs - Catalyst, Ealookaville. And lots of kids share cribs on lower Pacific Street.'
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She didn't give up. Never/But if a lot of kids were living together any ideas where that might be?' Conover sighed, and actually looked a little annoyed with her for asking. Jamilla could tell he wasn't the kind of cop who put too much of himself into his work. She would have transferred him in a second if he worked for her, and Conover would have sworn it was a gender thing. It wasn't. He was a lazy, half-assed cop, and she hated that. Lives depended on how well he did his job. Didn't he understand that? 'Maybe out in the foothills. Or north around Boulder Creek,' Conover finally volunteered in a soft drawl.'I really don't know what to tell you.' Of course you don't, Harry. Duh. 'Where would you look first?' she persisted. If you were worth jack shit as a cop. 'Inspector, I just wouldn't be chasing this one too hard. Yes, there have been some curious disappearances around here. But that's true of just about every town up and down the coast of California. Kids are more restless now than they used to be when we were growing up. I don't believe anybody's getting seriously hurt in Santa Cruz, and I sure don't buy that this is the freaking vampire capital of the West Coast. It isn't. Believe me on that. There are no vampires in Santa Cruz.' She nodded, pretended to agree. 'I think I'll try the foothills first,' she said. Conover saluted her. 'If you're finished chasing ghouls before seven or so, give me a call. Maybe we could have a drink. It is your day off, right?' Jamilla nodded. 'I'll do that. If I'm finished before seven. Harry. Thanks for all your 1ne.'Jackass.
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Chapter Eighty-One
She was pissed now. Who in their right mind wouldn't be? Here she was working her butt off in somebody else's town. She parked the Saab on a funky side street, near the Metro Center, right across from the Asti bar. She had lost track of the San Lorenzo River while she was driving, but it was around here somewhere. She could smell it anyway. She had just gotten out of the vehicle when two men appeared. They walked up quickly and flanked her tightly on either side. Jamilla winced. They almost seemed to appear out of nowhere. Blond ponytails, she thought. College kids? Surfers? She sure hoped so. They were well-built, but they didn't look like weightlifters. More like they came by it naturally. Images of Eros, Hermes, and Apollo came to mind. Muscles that were extremely well-defined. Virility. Chiseled marble. 'Can I help you fellows out?' she asked. 'Looking for the beach?' The taller of the two spoke with tremendous confidence, or maybe it was cockiness. 'Doubt it,' he said. 'We're not surfers, actually. Besides, we're from around here. How about you?' Both of them had the deepest blue eyes. They were incredibly intense. One looked no older than sixteen. Their movements were deliberate and controlled. She didn't like this. There was no one around to intervene on the side street. 'Maybe you could tell me where the beach is?' she said. They were crowding her physically, standing too close. She wouldn't be able to get her gun out. She couldn't move without -------------- 220 --------------
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bumping into one or the other. They wore black T-shirts, jeans, rock climbers' shoes. 'You want to back off a little?' she finally said. 'Just back off, okay?' The older one smiled. The dent between his lip and nose was a sexy round hollow. 'I'm William. This is my brother Michael. By any chance were you looking for us. Inspector Hughes?' Oh no, oh Jesus. Jamilla tried to reach for the sidearm in the holster strapped to her back. They grabbed her. Took away her gun as easily as if she were a child. She was astonished at how fast they moved and how strong they were. The two of them pushed her down on the sidewalk and handcuffed her. Where did they get cuffs? In New Orleans? The murdered detective? The older one spoke again. 'Don't scream, or I'll snap your neck, Inspector.' He said it so matter-of-factly. Snap your neck. The second one spoke then. He was right in her face. She saw the long canine fangs. 'If you hunt for the vampire, the vampire will hunt for you,' he said.
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Chapter Eighty-Two
She was gagged, then thrown roughly onto the rear seat of a pickup truck. The truck started up and took off with a jolt. She was being driven somewhere. Jamilla tried to concentrate on everything about the trip. She counted off the seconds, kept track of the minutes. There was stop-and-go city driving, then faster, smoother riding, possibly on Route 1. Then a very rough road, possibly unpaved. She figured the trip took approximately thirty-seven minutes. She was carried inside a building, some kind of ranch house or roughshod farm structure. People were laughing. At her? They wore fangs. Jesus. She was put down on a cot in a small room and her gag removed. 'You've come looking for the Sire,' the one who called himself William whispered, his face up close to hers. 'You've made a terrible mistake. Inspector. This one will get you killed.' He smiled horribly, and she felt as if she were being both ridiculed, and, at the same time, seduced. William touched her cheek with his long, slender fingers. He lightly caressed her throat, stared into her eyes. She was repulsed, wanted to run away, but couldn't do anything. There were a dozen or so vampires here - watching her like she was meat on a spit. 'I don't know anything about a Sire,'she said.'What's a Sire? Help me out here.' The brothers looked at each other, shared a knowing smirk. A -------------- 222 --------------
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few of the others laughed out loud. The Sire is the one who leads,' said William. He was so calm, so very sure of himself. 'Who does the Sire lead?' she asked. 'Why, anyone who will follow,' William answered. He laughed again, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely at her expense. 'Vampires, Inspector. Others like Michael and myself. Many others, in many, many cities. You can't imagine the extent of it. The Sire stands firm with simple directions on what to think, how to act, things like that. The Sire is not accountable to any authorities. The Sire is a superior being. Are you starting to understand? Would you like to meet the Sire?' 'Is the Sire here now?' she asked. 'Where are we?' William continued to stare down at her. He was definitely seductive. Disgusting. Then he leaned in closer. 'You're the detective. Js the Sire here? Where are you? You tell me.' Jamilla felt as if she might retch. She needed her space. 'Why are we here?' she asked. She wanted to keep them talking, keep them occupied for as long as she could. William shrugged. 'Oh, we've always been here. This used to be a commune - California-dreaming hippies, mind-altering drugs, Joni Mitchell music. Our parents were hippies. We were isolated from other ways to live and think, so we depended on each other. My brother and I are unbelievably close. But we're nothing really. We're here to serve the Sire.' 'Was the Sire always at the commune?' she asked. William shook his head, and gave her a serious look. 'There were always vampires here. They stayed apart, left the others alone. You had to join them, not the other way around.' 'How many are there?' William looked at Michael, shrugged his broad shoulders, and they both laughed.'Legions! We're everywhere.' Suddenly William roared and went for her throat. Jamilla couldn't help it - she screamed. He stopped inches away from her, still growling like an animal. Then he purred gently. His long tongue licked her cheek, her lips, her -------------- 223 --------------