I had to buy a small, handheld electronic map that had everything on it you could possibly want. Nobody made paper anything now unless it couldn't be helped. The first ranch address was entered; the gadget pulled up an image of where I was and where I needed to be. The little map would have given me turn-by-turn directions on how to get where I wanted to go, so I confused the hell out of it when I found a shadowy corner and turned to mist, flying in a straight line toward my destination.
My electronic map was telling me I'd reached my location when I materialized a few minutes later. I was grateful it wasn't cursing me instead. The location was higher in the mountains above the nearby city, fenced pasture lay all about me and there was a sprawling home in the distance. I was standing at the edge of the road outside the ranch itself.
"You lost?" somebody pulled alongside me in a hovercar.
"No, but thanks for asking," I said, shading my eyes against the midmorning glare to study the man. Faded blue eyes examined me from the dim interior of his vehicle. Red hair going to silver and a lined, leathery face told me he'd been ranching for most of his life—he looked as if he'd worked in the outdoors for years.
"This is my ranch," he nodded toward the house in the distance.
"Did you lose cattle recently?" I asked.
"Yeah. You with the police?"
"No," I said. "I'm doing some private investigation on this. I have a theory that the disappearances at the beach and your missing cattle are connected."
"That's a hell of a theory," the rancher said. "I can't say I see any connection, but the cops don't have time to investigate my missing cows and I'll take any help I can get."
"Do you know where your cows were when they disappeared?" I asked.
"Over on the southwest pasture. I can give you a lift if you want; I was going to check it again anyway."
"Sure," I said, climbing in on the passenger side of his vehicle. It was exhilarating to rise above the fences and take off over the pastures.
"Somewhere around here," the rancher said, pointing toward a spot near the fence. His name was John—he'd told me while we drove—the golden-brown grasses below us whipping beneath the hovercar as we rushed along. I'd given him my first name, too. I couldn't see that it hurt anything.
I climbed out of the hovercar and sniffed around. He'd parked the vehicle near the fence and I headed toward the barbed wire structure. There was a spot near the fence where the grass was beaten down, so I walked in that direction, just to check scents. John came with me. There were plenty of hoof prints there, as if the cattle had been frightened and churned the ground getting away. John was busy examining the ground, but what hit me when we reached the fence was the smell. Well, stench would be a better word. I wanted to hold my nose to keep from gagging as I moved closer to the barbed wire.
"Do you know what this might be?" I pointed out what looked to be a piece of leather caught on a barbed spike.
"No idea—kinda stinks though, doesn't it? You don't think that's cowhide, do you?"
"Wouldn't it have hair if it was?" I asked, holding my breath.
"Probably. You think the rustlers were wearing leather? Some people still do."
"Don't know, but surely it wouldn't smell like that," I said, making a face. Turning my gaze westward, I could see the ocean in the distance, sparkling in the midday sun. My skin itched.
"If you find anything, will you let me know?" John asked as he set me on the road again.
"Sure," I nodded. "Thanks for the tour." He returned my nod and took off toward his house. As soon as he was out of sight, I misted away, flying straight toward the section of beach where the teenage couple disappeared.
The police had the area blocked off for half a mile in every direction, and there were search boats in the water. I wandered through the crime scene as mist; no way could I have gotten in otherwise without using compulsion. I would have had to use it many times, too; police were everywhere and the FBI was present and involved. I knew one of them was a werewolf as I misted past him. Hovering around the vehicle the teen couple was snatched from, I detected the slightest bit of stench about it. I wondered if the werewolf had noticed the scent. John had smelled it around his fence, and if a human could smell it, the werewolf had to have it too.
The werewolf was now leaving the scene, striding away and climbing into a vehicle farther down the beach. I was taking a big chance, but there was always compulsion, wasn't there? Following him swiftly, I materialized in the seat beside him, causing him to jump as he prepared to drive away. "The same stench is on a fence where cattle disappeared two days ago," I said, right off.
The werewolf was so shocked he didn't think about going through the change. "Where the fuck did you come from?" he hissed at me instead. That hiss would have done any vampire proud.
"I was mist," I said. "But that's not important right now. There's a predator out there, and we need to find it. Don't you find it interesting that at first single individuals were disappearing, and now they're disappearing by twos?"
"What the hell are you?" The werewolf demanded. He had red in his dark-brown hair, which curled crisply around his collar. His light-brown eyes and finely shaped mouth frowned at me—he was still trying to determine what I was. I'd guess he was a russet colored wolf when he changed.
"Somebody who knows what you are and that you undoubtedly scented the stench around the vehicle. Do they still have the paranormal division of the FBI, or are you completely undercover?" I asked.
"They still have it and how the hell do you know about that?" I had his curiosity raised, I could tell.
"I knew the guy who started it," I shrugged.
"That was a while back," he huffed and then turned to face me, shock in his eyes. "Tell me what you are," he demanded.
"Something you may never see again," I said. "I'm a Vampire Queen. What does that tell you?"
"I heard that was next to impossible," he turned away from me and stared out the tinted window of his vehicle. "I can't get a scent off you. Why is that?"
"No idea, but ever since I came back from the dead, some people seem to have a problem with that."
"Why do you think two are disappearing now, instead of one?" He was back to a previous question, and I could see he was worried about the increase in victims, just as I was.
"I think that whatever is preying on these people—and cattle—is getting hungrier, somehow." The werewolf growled softly as he jerked his head in a quick nod at my words. He suspected, as did I that all these people were dead— that they'd been consumed in some way.
"It's not a vampire," he muttered, staring through the windshield at the ocean beyond.
"Yeah. I get that too," I said.
"Did the Council send you? I didn't hear anything from our vamp agents."
"The Council sort of sent me—they asked for my help," I replied. "I'm different from other vamps; that's why we're having this conversation in daylight."
"I already figured that out," he said, sarcasm coming through in his voice. I deserved that, so I didn't say anything. "So, what now?" he asked when I remained silent. Light-brown eyes assessed me, determining whether I might be a help or hindrance to him.
"After lunch and a nap since I was up late last night, I may travel up the coast and see what else I can find."
"Take this," he handed a card to me. "Call me if you find anything, all right?"
"Are you going to report me to anybody?" I asked, flipping the thin, plastic card in my fingers. It held a name and phone number only.
"Not yet. Don't give me any reason."
"Oh, don't you worry about that," I said and misted away.
The restaurant near the water had great clam chowder. The bowl was almost empty when I pulled the werewolf's card from my pocket. Joshua Billings was his name, and he was listed as a special agent for the FBI. I tucked the card into my jacket pocket again and paid for my meal. The temperature outside was in the low sixties with heavy cloud cover coming in over the course of the afternoon, whereas the morning had been bright and sunny. After misting from the ladies' restroom to the safe house, I turned on the latest version of what passed for television and watched a national news program until I fell asleep on the sofa.
Gavin stood over the little Queen, thinking it would only take a quick swipe with his claws and she'd be ash. He breathed a frustrated sigh and moved into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of blood substitute from the pantry. He twisted the cap off and drank, waiting for Anthony to finish showering.
The sound of a bottle cap hitting the bottom of a wastebasket woke me from a deeper sleep than I'd intended. "Geez, what time is it?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes as I sat up on the sofa. I hadn't made my trip up the coast as planned—I'd slept the afternoon away instead.
"After eight," Gavin growled. His temper hadn't improved any with his sleep.
"The cattle disappearances are connected to the people disappearances, Gavin," I said. "And two more are gone; two teenagers as of this morning. They were taken in daylight, so if it's a vampire, it's not any vampire I ever imagined; the stench is unbelievable."
"Hey, Lissa," Tony came out of the bathroom freshly showered and smelling nice. He didn't quite come up to Gavin, but he still smelled good.
"Tony," I nodded to him.
"What's on the agenda for tonight?" Tony asked, getting a bottle of something from the pantry and unscrewing the top.
"What is that stuff?" I asked.
"Blood substitute," Tony said, holding the bottle out to me. I got up and went to sniff it. I can't say I liked the scent, but if it fed them, then I didn't have a problem with that.