"Welcome to San Francisco," a trim Hispanic man greeted them as the 'Sommerfields' rucked up to the address Gidge provided them. "Come in." They entered the flat, walking up two flights of stairs to the third floor. All the doors on the lower floors were closed; a few were missing numbers. Abby guessed that, if pushed, not a single one would open onto anything other than maybe a brick wall. The building, according to Gidge, was all theirs.
On the third floor, once a heavy steel-reinforced wood door was closed behind them, the man introduced himself. "I'm Elias Stone. Call me Eli or Stone."
"Abigail Whistler," Abby said over her shoulder as she walked around the apartment.
"Hannibal King." The two shook hands, and King stepped aside and waited expectantly. Zoe made a great show of frowning seriously and looking all up and down Eli Stone's not inconsiderable height.
"Zoe Sommerfield," Zoe said, mimicking their no-nonsense tones. Eli smiled at her.
"Miss Sommerfield," Eli extended a hand that enfolded Zoe's at least twice over. "Anyone need a refresher? We've got plenty of whatever's your pleasure." Eli retreated to the kitchen, and Abby followed. King and Zoe worked in tandem to perform their own examination of the premises.
"Water for me. King? Zoe?"
"Chocolate milk?" Came King's request.
"Me, too!" Zoe called, more enthusiastically.
Abby shrugged as if to say what can I say? Eli chuckled and tossed her a frosty bottled water. To her surprise, Eli produced a small bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup and a gallon of milk. He fetched a couple of glasses and put them out on the island bench top between the kitchen and dining area.
"Gidge mentioned you were bringing a kid with you," Eli nodded at the chocolate syrup. "I took a guess."
"Good guess. Zoe'll eat anything chocolate. King will really have a scotch if you've got."
"Twelve or eighteen-year-old?"
"Damned if I know. I don't drink."
"Admirable," Eli said, opening another cabinet, exchanging one of the glasses for a highball and producing a yellow-tan liquor box from another. "None of that for me, though," he confessed, and another highball glass appeared. He poured and drained two full glasses of scotch before King and Zoe reappeared.
"Sorry, bathroom," King explained, eyeing the scotch. Eli poured him a half-full glass and slid it toward him. Zoe hopped up on a stool and reached for the milk and the Hershey's. All three adults marveled at the amount of syrup that went in the glass before she was satisfied.
"Did your mom let you have that much?" King frowned mock-seriously at her.
"Yes," Zoe rolled her eyes and made off for the living area.
"There's a television there to keep her occupied," Eli explained, pouring himself a third scotch.
"That's okay," Abby said. "She'll be just as interested in your shooting range."
"Really? Dios," Eli shook his head. "That young?"
"She's older than she looks," Abby murmured, sucking on her water. King said nothing when Eli glanced between them.
"Her mother?"
"Lost her when the vamps cleaned us out," Abby sighed, tired already of discussing it. Eli appeared to recognize this and cleanly changed the subject.
"Fox is out doing her thing. You came at just the right time. I got back an hour ago."
"Where from?"
"Coast Guard, search and rescue."
"News?" King asked.
"Not from them, but I tipped off a buddy of mine there. He trusts my judgment."
"What about?"
"Maybe we should wait till we're all here."
"Tell me about the surfers," Abby prodded him. She didn't want to wait. They had less than six hours to sundown.
"I was in the water about twenty-four hours yesterday," Eli supplied, not impressed or vexed by her urgency, "and I got the Coasties' report."
"Which was?"
"They said they'd gotten a few missing persons complaints, mostly the midnight marauder types. Around here, most people keep their sporting to the weekend, but the natives are at it all times of the day. There are some great winds at night, too. I kite-board myself."
"Did you see anything?"
Eli scratched the stubble on his chin. "Not really. I marked down a few boat names where I saw guys climb on board who'd taken a spill, or even ones that hadn't. You get that, too. People get dropped off in the Bay to go wind-surfing or kite-boarding, and their buddies on the speedboat come back for them later."
"How regular?"
"Well, like I said, most of the night shift are veterans and natives. They paddle out the old-fashioned way, catch a wind and a wave and are gone." Eli downed his scotch, planting the empty glass back down with enough force to make a resounding clink as it hit. "The damnedest thing, though. About three or four people I saw nearly got swiped by speedboats."
"You get names?"
"I've got a photographic memory," Eli said by way of explanation. "Sometimes, the boats didn't even stop. Anyone was hurt, I would have radioed Steve at the Guard, but there weren't any serious accidents. A few boats stopped and picked up the guy in the water. From there, about half got back on the boards, half took the ride into shore. And that's not taking into account the ones in the water who were being watched and had rides arranged to pick them up if they got tired."
"Jesus," King swore, following suit with Eli and gulping down his scotch. Eli refreshed it for him. "People just let themselves be picked up by complete strangers?" Abby cast him a withering look, the message clear: who are you to talk? King cleared his throat noisily, but he didn't seem the least embarrassed or caught out; rather, he seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh.
"When you're dumped in that water on a rough patch, you'd welcome the first guy with an engine and a blanket, trust me," Eli said.
"So they can just grab people in the light of day?"
"With their familiars, yeah, it would seem so. Why it took them this long to find this source for meat, I can't say."
"Plenty of other sources, ones less likely to be missed," Abby offered. Someone rich enough to afford boarding equipment would probably have at least a few people wondering where he went if he didn't return.
"A lot of the boarders know each other, too," Eli continued. "They've been at it for years, especially the natives."
"They'd have to screen the ones they pick up somehow."
"All you need is one guy who wants to spend the rest of eternity hanging ten in the dark to get a familiar into that crowd," King added.
"So, maybe it's taken some time. There isn't that much fear of sharks in these waters, even with the sea lions. Most stay away from that area."
"How are they getting away with it, then?"
"There's not a lot of sympathy for a few missing adventurers. Name your poison: board-sailing, camping, hiking, walking in front of traffic--enough people get killed everyday doing normal things, so the ones who go out where they can fall prey to wild animals or changing wind conditions usually garner little sympathy."
"If they're screening them, too," King followed along the train of thought, "they wouldn't take anyone who'd be missed especially."
"Or anyone with a buddy," Eli agreed. "Buddy system's gotten big out here again because of these attacks."
"What about landed victims?" Abby asked, eager to turn the conversation onto the usual territory instead of worrying where else vampires were getting their raw materials from these days.
"There's no way to account for the numbers of the homeless that might have been scooped up. However many they take, shelters haven't noticed any drop in attendance or need. Fox worked that over a few days ago."
"Tourists?"
"That makes the news where they're from more than it does here, and if the person's alone, there's no way to know who actually went to San Fran like they told their family and who just picked up and moved on." Abby frowned. This wasn't good news at all, none of it. How could it be that they could take out Dracula, arguably the best chance the bad guys had at maintaining their winning advantage, and things could sill seem so hopeless?
"What about this blood conference?" King redirected.
"Fox can brief you on that better than I," Eli admitted. "She followed Leung from Gidge's information. I think you saw most of what she had for you."
"Any ideas why vampires might be stockpiling embalming fluids by the warehouse load?"
"Nothing I can contribute there. Fox has had more experience. Med school drop-out."
"Why drop-out?" Abby asked, though she already guessed the answer.
"To do this, why else?"
"How about you, Sarge?" King cocked his head the way he did when he was about to say something that would probably piss off the person he was talking to. " 'Don't ask, don't tell'?"
Eli guffawed, heartily, without any trace of anger. Abby almost had trouble believing her own eyes and ears. "You're all right for a white boy," Eli said, raising his empty glass in salute. King did the same. Men, Abby rolled her eyes. Beating each other up and insulting one another meant they were friends. Eli shook his head, still chuckling. "No, I stumbled into this line of work through a friend of mine."
"Yeah?" King's tone suggested genuine interest.
"Guy I went through the program with," Eli said, pausing, eyes misting over as he relived the glory days before continuing, "second best in the unit, I'd say."
"Second to you, I assume," Abby goaded, smiling around her water when Eli folded his large arms menacingly.
"Damn right. Anyway, we went out after graduating to get the requisite tatts for our accomplishment."
"Why?"
Eli's expression spoke of disbelief. "When you get through the SEAL training, you tell me why you want a permanent reminder you did, sweetheart."
"Okay, whatever, go on," Abby waved away his wounded pride.
"We went for the arm. It's, you know, traditional among us macho-bullshit types." King bit the edge of his glass to keep from smirking; Abby glared at him anyway. "This guy, Beast, we called him, said he wanted it tattooed on his dick so his girlfriend would have to see it every time she sucked him off. Oh, excuse me, forgot there were ladies present," Eli pardoned himself. Abby gave him the finger, and King, wisely, kept quiet.
"So, Beast convinces the rest of us to get right here," Eli gestured to a spot right below his belly button and just north of his package. Abby was acutely aware of King swallowing heavily next to her, but she held her face impassive.
"Very macho bullshit," she commended him.
"Well, then there was J.P.," Eli scratched his chin. "Hairy guy, like you wouldn't believe. Started pitching a fit about how he'd have to shave off his pubes to get it done down there. And we believed him. If you'd seen that guy in the shower, you would have, too."
"Right," said King, flatly without inflection.
"Well," Eli paused, seeming embarrassed, "I never really like J.P., to be honest. I thought it would be a laugh and give him shit to, you know, make him." Neither Abby nor King's expressions suggested they found this the slightest bit reprehensible. "Beast and I grabbed the guy and tossed him in the showers. Beast sat on him and I shaved."
"And you found more than you expected."
"I'll be goddamned if I know how the suck-faces found that thing on him normally."
"It's supposed to be a good place to hide it," King filled in, not looking at either of them. There was a curious wrong-ness to his tone.
"Well, it would have worked. We teased him so bad. Said he was embarrassed because the first thing he did when he'd turned eighteen was to run off and get some little squiggles tattooed on his dick, just like Beast'd said."
"How'd he take that?"
"I'm the last living member of that graduating class. I would say he didn't take it very well, wouldn't you?" King grunted, eyes still on the drink in his hands. "Exactly," Eli nodded. "I wouldn't ever have thought anyone could take Beast down, 'sides me. Even though J.P. was a scrappy bugger and a crack shot, Beast was just huge. He'd sit on J.P. and that would be the end of it. 's how we found the glyph in the first place, right?'
"How'd you survive?"
"Had me a brush with Lady Luck," Eli said, voice full of hallowed overtones. King finally caught her eye to exchange a knowing look; Eli spoke like Fox did and about the same person.
"You mean Blade?"
"El Diablo," Eli swore, crossing himself. "I never seen anything move as fast as the little skinny buggers that came with J.P. that time. Until that motherfucker showed up. Tore them assholes some new ones, saved my ass."
"Were you bit?"
"Nah," Eli said, dismissively. "J.P. wanted me, and they let him have me. Aside from that, they were pretty efficient. Took out the five guys I trained with in about fifteen minutes. They were going to intervene with J.P. and I 'cause I was winning when Blade showed up. Dusted them with his sword then turned it on me, asked if I was bit."
"He's a great conversationalist," King said, sarcastically.
"Cops didn't believe my story. Fox showed up at my place a few days after they cleared me of responsibility, told me I was dead man if I didn't go with her."
"And you went," Abby nodded.
"I saw what those things were. I believed her."
"Good for you. Did you get the pen and the free gift basket, too? Mine's still on back-order."
Eli grinned. "You don't need door prizes when a beautiful woman comes your way." He flashed a smile at Abby, winking conspiratorially and glancing at King.
"What about Fox? What's her story?"
"She'll tell you, if she wants."
"When do we get to meet her?"
"She's picking up Caulder and Alyssa. So, until they get here, relax. I'll show you around, and you can catch a nap or a shower if you need it."
"I could use a nap before tonight," Abby conceded. "King?"
"Some of us believe we're beautiful enough, Abby."
Eli shook his head, muttering to himself in Spanish. "I'll show you a room then."
"One sec, let me just let Zoe know." Eli busied himself clearing the glasses and returning the milk to the fridge. When his back was turned, she pinched King on the thigh. He blinked, scanned her face, read the question there, and nodded once, sincerely. Okay, she nodded back, standing up and going over to find Zoe asleep on the couch. For a seven year old, Zoe napped a lot. It reminded her, uncomfortably, of herself, of all of them, sleeping whenever they could, lest they should miss the opportunity and not have it again in the near future.
"She's fine." King. She felt him, close, fought the urge to hug him. He stood behind her, rubbed her upper arms. "Get some sleep, Whistler."
"You, too," she admonished, and he rumbled something like an 'okay.' She turned, catching his hand, squeezing it once, and walking back to where Eli waited to show her a room. Tossing King one last cursory glance, she followed Eli down the corridor toward the suite of bedrooms and collapsed into a welcoming queen-sized bed, asleep the moment she'd kicked off her shoes and laid down.