For the Dead Travel Fast

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Castle scrambled to his feet after her, staggered as a wave took the sand out from under him. Kate, miraculously, was steady as a rock, as if she hadn't been mauled by a crazy woman (he had not yet said the word out loud, let alone in his own head; he couldn't get there yet.)

"We're okay," she called to the couple. They were still advancing, their dog straining at his leash with a joyously wagging tail.

Castle crouched and greeted the dog first, who reminded him of Royal somehow, despite being a large mix breed with wolfish ears and powerful jaws—the dog's greeting was more of a gnawing on his hand and an excited bark rather than licking. Maybe it was the lake water and the taint of dead fish the dog was going after. He rubbed its neck and stood again, bracing himself for a bizarre social interaction on the beach.

(Castle was relieved the dog smelled only like a dog.)

The two standing before him were intensely friendly white folks, matching chinos rolled up calf-length, bare toes sunk into the sand. She was wearing an LL Bean windbreaker, and the guy was in a polo; she was blonde and pony-tailed, a careful curation of money he often saw in the Hamptons, while the man was neatly groomed, perhaps ten years older than her. They offered handshakes, which Kate balked at, forcing Castle to step forward and smooth the way. "Yes, nice to meet you, sorry, soaking wet. We took a swim to cool off, kind of a lark."

"We usually catch teenagers down here," the woman was smiling. Cheekily, he thought. Her hand lingered at his and Castle caught the scent of cinnamon and... something else. She gave him a flirty look that Castle knew Kate had seen, and he was almost sure the woman had wanted her to. "Don't worry, we won't call the cops."

"The cops?" Castle said lightly.

"The public beach is closed at night—even to us—we've had too many kids get caught in the rip tides and pulled out, drowned—"

"Wow," he interrupted, playing nice even as he tried to ascertain whether or not Kate could stand up under socialization for very long. She looked steady but she was good at the act. "Drowned. I guess I should've realized, the Great Lakes must have their own currents."

"Oh yeah. We kind of feel guilty, walking the dog, but he loves it, and we love it, and well, you know, we do actually catch kids trying to skinny dip or night swim, and it's dangerous. So we're doing a public service."

"Don't worry," Castle said, using his best smile. He tried not to look at Kate and the blood on her clothes, the two ragged puncture wounds at her shoulder. How these people hadn't yet seen or comprehended the state they were in— "We weren't planning on swimming. Just trying to cool off, and then of course, the waves knocked us down, you know how it goes."

The man finally spoke up, his hair close-shaved to disguise a bald patch, a little salt and pepper goatee on his chin which he rubbed now as he looked at Kate. "Looks like you got in a nasty scrape."

Shit.

"I lost," Kate said, a flash of her teeth. Was that a warning?

"Did you now?"

Oh-kay, what was this. What was going on here? The cinnamon scent sharpened in the air, a tang to it that made his body suddenly come aware. His skin was taut over his frame.

"Is the dog part of it?" Kate said quietly.

Is the dog—

Oh shit, they were vampires.

Oh shit, he was a vampire. They were all vampires.

"I see you have a rather large wound," the man said.

"The dog isn't anything but a dog," the woman said hastily. She was Castle's counterpart, it seemed, the one trying to smooth things over, the one making friendly chit chat. "Just a sweet good dog."

"Does he obey?" Kate said, a tightness in her voice that made Castle shift subtly back, closer to her, at her wounded side. He blocked the couple's view of her checking for her weapon at the small of her back, but he could have told her it was in the car. "Does the dog obey you?"

"Mostly," the woman said, a helpless little shrug.

Castle wondered if they were talking about the dog now or the man at her side. The goatee'd guy seemed so oblivious.

"You need to be able to control your mangy cur," Kate said, so sharply rude that Castle stiffened. "He's libel to rut at anything that moves."

The man drew up tall, and his teeth glinted for a second from the hedge of his goatee. Now he seemed to get that Kate was talking about him.

The woman stepped in front of the man. "Look, we could smell you for miles. Can you blame us for answering the call?" Her eyes were on him again and Castle swallowed roughly. "And it is such an impressive specimen, lives up to the hype."

"We don't swing," Kate said flatly. "We don't share."

"Not just a little taste?" the woman whined.

"No," Castle snapped. "Mine."

The woman gave him a bewildered look, then cast her eyes to Kate, darting back and forth between them. "Wait. I thought he was the one..." She sniffed the air. "Yeah, it's definitely him. Not you. You smell sour. That shoulder is going to fester if you don't do something about it."

"It's not up for conversation," Kate said flatly. "Turn around, go home."

The woman hedged. "We could take you, I think, if it came to that."

"I'd tear your fat little dog to pieces and feed him to the wolf."

Castle could not be more turned on right now, despite their most recent encounter with the deranged woman at the gas station.

The woman sniffed. "We're not trash. I'd be very gentle with him. With you? I've never been so unclear about the lines of power here; you both are fascinating. Call it a sample study, take a little from each of you."

"Call it averting your bad luck," Kate growled. "And walk away."

The woman still kept talking. "We could go in together. It wouldn't have to be all take take take. That's not how I operate. And you, you need my help. You could get a little taste of this one, clear that sour patch right up." She made an offhand gesture to the man beside her and suddenly Castle realized—this guy in the goatee was not her husband, not her better half; he was her plaything.

He was her pet.

"I don't need clearing up," Kate said, her voice flat again. "And if you don't leave, I'll hunt down every last one of your concubines and tear out their hearts. How does that sound?"

"Ew," the woman curled her lip. "You don't have to be so vicious. I'm leaving. We're leaving. Come Jasper, darling." She gestured and the dog gave a happy bark and bounded back to her from where he'd been investigating a good scent in the sand. Jasper, apparently, was the dog, and the human male beside him was left to lurk in her wake.

The male kept giving them long hungry looks over his shoulder, but the woman did, in fact, control her dog.

"Holy shit," Castle muttered, mind boggled.

Kate swayed.

"Whoa," he husked, grabbing her around the waist and holding her up.

"Just keep me standing until they're gone," she whispered. Her voice was weak, thready. She felt like a rag doll in his arms. The sharp scent of cinnamon had cleared his head enough to know that neither of them should be driving. "They can't see I'm no match."

"You're no match for them?" he croaked.

"Castle, I'm this close to passing out."

"If you're not, then I sure as hell am." He gripped her tighter and she cried out softly, turning her head into his, nose skimming his cheek. "Sorry," he whispered.

"The bullet," she said tightly.

He immediately let go.

She wobbled, knees giving way, and he had to yank her upright again. "Okay. This is stupid. This is dangerous. We can't just stick around where any old bitch in heat can smell me. They're coming out of the woodwork, Beckett."

"It's more like you're the one in heat," she whispered.

"...Oh." Well, fuck. "How are you resisting me?" he preened.

"Barely," she gritted out, and that look. Whoa.

"We need to get out of here. Get back on the road. Keep moving."

She nodded. "I don't know why I thought the Great Lake would hide us. It makes no sense."

The Great... Lake. "Why... what made you think of it?" he said, vague about... there was an idea somewhere.

"I don't know, I don't know. I'm like a child grasping at fairy tale stories. I don't know enough. I just—something in me knew or thought it knew and I..." She staggered in his arms again, and he caught the back of her head, held her against him. She whimpered at his neck. "She's right. You smell so damn good I want to eat you up." Her lips caressed his throat.

He grunted, more aroused than he knew what to do with. "And I'd let you, that's the thing."

She shivered. "Don't let me."

"If it's the smell that's drawing them, we need to get really far away from civilization," he said. "I mean, I've always been charming, Beckett, but this is ridiculous."

"I don't think we can get far enough away," she sighed. "We need something to mask -"

"Salt Lake." He gave a choked laugh and felt the giddiness of inspiration. "That's what you meant, what you were thinking. The Great Salt Lake. Beckett. The smell of that place is horrific."

She blinked, staring up at him. "The Great Salt Lake?" Her mouth hung open, some color bloomed in her cheeks.

Looked like hope.

"Salt," she murmured.

"Well, honestly, I think they said it's pollution run-off interacting with the—"

"No, it's the salt they'll smell. And only the salt. Any of the horde within miles of that place is only going to smell blood. Salt. It would mess with their hunting, make it impossible to tell anything apart, animal from man, it's perfect, Castle."

Even as she said it, her knees were buckling.

He gripped her tightly. "Back to the car," he said urgently. "I'm driving."

"No way in hell." She slid her hand into his back pocket and snagged the keys with a sly caress of his ass. Her legs seemed firmer, though her face was ashen. "I'm driving. You need rest; the phase isn't over."

He'd been afraid of that.

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