Chapter 2: Dreams

New Haven, Connecticut.

Dean Winchester parked his '67 Impala in front of Maia Stavrou's cottage. He'd told his brother that he and Chloe would swing by at one o'clock.

"No sign of Sam." Chloe gave a knowing smile. "You thought he'd be waiting for you outside. I knew he and Maia would have better things to do."

Dean was happy to be proved wrong. Sam had just spent the past three days with Maia and evidently wasn't in a hurry to leave. Was this the first time they'd both been able to enjoy some downtime without worrying about the other one?

Maia had closed on the white wood-framed cottage last month. It wasn't far from the Yale campus and backed onto East Rock Park. The woods reminded him of Jenny Jump State Forest where Sam had first met Maia, a grad student at Yale. The fact that Maia lived in the same town where Chloe was currently hanging out was proof that the Winchester brothers didn't always wind up with the short end of the straw.

He and Sam had been working in the Northeast since reports of a new generation of pure-blood vampires surfaced in June. Vamp activity had been minimal but there was no shortage of demons, witches, and werewolves. Vengeful spirits were particularly abundant.

It seemed like every town in New England had a booming population of ghosts. Sifting through the reports for the malicious ones was a tedious chore. The local chambers of commerce quickly discovered that tourists have an insatiable desire for haunted inns and ghost stories. Mom-and-pop shops were primed with local lore. Instead of wanting to hide supernatural events, they boasted about them. Ninety-nine percent of the tales were worthless—making a hunter's job that much harder.

It was that one percent—the spirits eager to skin a tourist alive—that he and Sam hunted. And there were too many of them.

When their last job took them to Naugatuck, just up the road from New Haven, Dean declared a timeout afterward. Demons could be put on the back burner for a few days without the world coming to an end.

Chloe was staying at a B&B run by Wisteria Brigham. The flowery innkeeper had a soft spot for Chloe since she'd joined Wisteria's Wicca coven. She let Dean stay in Chloe's room for no extra charge.

No need for Sam to rent a room. After mourning his deceased girlfriend for over a year and refusing to date, he'd made a move on Maia in record time. Not that it wasn't understandable. Maia had long blond hair and features that would make anyone take a second look. The gentle, shy bookworm was perfect for him.

He and Chloe got out of the car and went up the brick path to the front door. When he rang the doorbell, there was no answer.

Chloe peered through the glass panel in the door. "I don't see them inside. Maia mentioned they planned to take a walk in the woods. Let's wait on the back patio."

Although she'd only lived there a month, Maia's backyard was already filled with flowers. The chick had quite a knack for plants. It was something she had in common with Chloe.

Dean sprawled on a lounger while Chloe checked out the posies. "I'm going to miss New Haven," she said.

"When will you leave for New York?"

"On Monday. My new job starts on Wednesday and I want to have a couple of days to settle in. Wisteria talked with her sister Peony yesterday. Her B&B sounds ideal for my needs. It's on the Upper West Side and not far from where I'll be working. Peony's extended me a bargain rate."

"The Wicca friends and family discount?" Peony was also a member of a coven. They called themselves the Silver Cauldron.

Chloe plopped into a wicker chair opposite him. "I'll take it gladly. Wisteria told her that I'm studying potions and Peony has offered to share her knowledge with me." Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Don't frown. She could be an invaluable resource for my upcoming novel. Wisteria told me that Peony's a psychic. Supposedly she's able to communicate with spirits."

Chloe told him not to frown. She didn't mention anything about growls. He preferred to think as little as possible about Wiccans. He and Sam had encountered far too many dangerous witches for him to be happy about Chloe associating with any coven, no matter how harmless sounding. But his efforts to dissuade her had gone nowhere. She argued she was simply conducting research for her novel. How could such a sweet package the face of a pixie be as bullheaded as Sam?

Chloe didn't earn enough from sales of her urban fantasies to pay the bills so she worked as a technical writer. Usually she did contract jobs for software outfits, but even he had heard of the name of her new employer, Wooster House.

"Wooster's one of the top five technical publishers in the country," Chloe said proudly. "Their headquarters are close to Columbia University. I have an initial contract for three months."

"What will you work on?"

"A new series of how-to guides they plan to publish next year."

"Like the Idiot Guides?"

Chloe flushed unexpectedly. "Something like that. I'll be assigned to the Excel team."

"What's the name of the series? Sam may have heard about it."

"I doubt they've started promoting it," she said, turning even redder. "No need to mention it to Sam."

What was Chloe hiding? Anything concerning Excel couldn't be that exciting. Too bad she wasn't writing a guide on the art of love.

Chloe stood up and waved. "There they are!"

He turned his head to see Sam and Maia walking up the trail, accompanied by her puppy Tatyana. Sam looked relaxed and happy. Dean felt a brief pang at yanking him back to the real world. If Bobby hadn't called him about a suspicious murder in Cape May, he would be tempted to stay on another day. But it was time to return to the family business.

#

Sam crouched down to pick up a short oak branch and then tossed it into the woods. Tatyana bounded after it. Someday the Russian wolfhound would be able to sprint gracefully, but that time hadn't come. Tatyana was a sweetheart. He'd hate to say goodbye to her and even more so to her mistress.

For their last walk, Maia had suggested the trail around the lake. Dean would arrive any minute, but he wanted to linger as long as possible. For the past three days, he'd been able to escape the hunter's life.

Maia's sister Electra owned a bookstore named Elysian's, and he felt like he'd been in Elysian Fields. He hadn't read much about the ancient Greeks, but Maia was studying the classics. She'd told him the Greeks described Elysium as the Isles of the Blessed, and Sam had been blessed in abundance. He'd never known sex this good. It was a pleasure he would have found unimaginable only a month ago.

Maia had shown him around the Yale campus. It reminded him of his life at Stanford, a world he thought he'd left behind. Now she was bringing it back to him. He'd dreamed last night of going for a law degree at Yale, writing poetry with Maia, making love to Maia . . .

Tatyana trotted back, looking pleased with herself. Sam leaned down to take the stick from her. "Good girl," he murmured, scratching her behind her ears. Tatyana gazed up at him with adoring eyes.

"She'll miss you," Maia said softly, "and she won't be the only one. Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yeah, we're heading to New Jersey. I hope it won't be long before we can return." He'd been vague about what he and Dean did. Maia was left with the impression that they worked as freelance consultants for the FBI. Since she knew nothing about the FBI, the deception was easy to maintain.

"It may be for the best. I'll need to work at the bookstore this weekend. Back to the real world for me as well."

Sam drew her close. "I won't forget our time together."

"Nor I."

As they kissed, Sam returned to Elysium for a few more minutes. Afterward, she reached into her bag. "I bought you a present at the bookstore. I hope you enjoy it. Langston Hughes is one of my favorite poets."

Sam looked at the small volume. The Dream Keeper and other poems. He could relate. He wanted to hold onto this dream as long as he could. He couldn't remember ever having wanted to write poetry but now he did.

As they approached Maia's cottage, he saw Dean and Chloe waiting for them on the patio. Sam secreted the book in his denim jacket. No reason to give Dean another reason to tease him.

#

"It's all true?" Diana's mouth dropped open. "This isn't a con?"

Peter checked Neal for his reaction to his account of their encounters with witches and vampires. He'd been prepared for disbelief, scorn—even ridicule—but not that Diana and Jones had already figured it out. They simply arrived at the wrong conclusion.

Neal was no doubt inordinately pleased that they attributed it to a brilliantly devised con. Travis seemed relieved at no longer having to keep it a secret.

But now came the hard part. They had to convince Diana and Jones it was true.

At the Friday morning briefing, it was abundantly clear that Diana was itching to bring up the topic. Thanks to Neal's warning, Peter was ten steps ahead of her. He'd started the meeting with a frank and serious review of the vampire and witch sightings. Explaining that they believed a Greek goddess named Astrena sucked the life force out of her chosen victims was a conversation he'd never planned to have. The transformation of the art forger Hagen into the demon Crowley was the easiest to explain. He and Neal had witnessed it.

"I talked with Hagen when he was imprisoned in the witch's house," Neal added. "You may remember that Hagen had become fascinated with the artist Goya, particularly the witch series of paintings he'd made. Hagen admitted that he found himself drawn to the paintings in a way he couldn't explain. Also to Titian."

"You think Goya and Titian were among this goddess"—Diana paused to look at her notes—"Astrena's victims?"

"Very likely," Peter agreed. "The list of artists who suffered from mental or physical disorders and had unexplained deaths is a long one. If you believe in Astrena, it makes you wonder how many of them were her victims."

"How about these so-called sisters of Astrena?" Jones asked. "Are they equally powerful?"

"We don't know," Neal said. "The lore indicates they have similar abilities, but it's unclear if they're demons, demi-goddesses, or something else."

Peter stared at Neal, impressed at how authoritative he sounded. Had his art crimes consultant turned into another Sam Winchester? He looked equally serious. Perhaps this was Sam's influence at work. Did that mean Dean was rubbing off on Peter? Their music tastes were similar. Peter liked his car. They both enjoyed burgers and beer. He quickly smothered those thoughts. He was not turning into a hunter.

"Have you told Hughes?" Travis asked.

"I brought him up to date earlier this morning," Peter confirmed. "We're in mutual agreement that we are not opening up a branch of White Collar to deal with supernatural incidents. Only if a crime falls within our jurisdiction will we become involved." No need to go into Hughes's disbelief and sarcasm. Peter's hesitancy in explaining the incidents was probably the only reason Hughes hadn't ordered a psychiatric evaluation. He supported Peter's decision not to write up case reports on the incidents.

Diana turned to Neal. "Assuming the legends are true and Astrena feeds off the creative energy of artists, doesn't that make you a potential target? You were in the vicinity when that ritual was held to create a new generation of pure-blood vampires. She may have sniffed you out."

Neal shook his head. "I'm not famous. She'd cast me on the pile of rejects."

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the possibility," Travis countered. "I've been researching recent reports of artist deaths. That artist you investigated in Connecticut—Scott Pembroke—certainly fits the pattern. He wasn't famous, but he had the weird dreams, the unknown illness."

Peter shared Travis's concern, but Neal remained a skeptic. Ever since Neal and Sam had been discovered with blood being siphoned out of them, Peter had worried that something else was going on. Neal insisted there was no cause for concern.

"The number of practicing witches is low," Peter pointed out. "And I don't know of any reports connecting them with white-collar crimes. Same thing for vampires. Dean and Sam Winchester introduced us to a shadow world of supernatural monsters we had no idea existed, but there's no reason to believe we'll confront them again. As for Hagen, I stand by the report I filed. Hagen was being held prisoner in a house that caught fire. He vanished, probably consumed by flames. We haven't received any news about the Dutchman. If he is Crowley now, it's a good guess he's no longer interested in art forging."

"Could we call Astrena and her pure-blood vampires a type of organized crime?" Diana suggested then broke into a grin. "What would Ruiz say if I told him about it?"

"He'd ask what you'd been sniffing," Neal predicted. "Better not go there. Your credibility could be ruined."

"But here's something else Diana can feed him," Peter said, turning to Neal. "We can use your newfound interest in identity fraud to our advantage. As part of the con, we want to sell your dissatisfaction with the Bureau. Diana's been regaling him with tales of how unhappy you are with the assignments. She's also complained that I'm too lenient with you and that the rest of the team resents it. Identity fraud is a top priority for our division. Hughes has assigned you to assist with identity fraud effective immediately, or at least that's the story we'll spread. Diana can make a strong case about how resentful you are of the number crunching."

"You could also play it a different way," Neal remarked. "You could easily say that I'm an expert on the subject."

Diana snorted. "With all the aliases you have in your pocket?"

Neal nodded. "Exactly. I could take advantage of the assignment. By learning how the Bureau investigates identity frauds, I'll be better able to rig the system."

Jones raised an eyebrow. "Know your enemy and yourself and you can win a hundred battles?"

Jones had been working with Mozzie on the U-boat scam. Now he was quoting Sun Tzu, one of Mozzie's role models. How much of Mozzie was rubbing off on Peter's second-in-command and should he be worried about it? Would a belief in Hitler clones be next? At least that was one demon Peter hadn't been forced to confront . . . yet.

#

Peter had outed himself at the morning briefing. He'd laid their encounters with witches and vampires on the table for Diana and Jones to accept, mock, or reject as they saw fit. It was a sign of their caliber that once the initial shock wore off, they drilled down on the essential takeaways. Vampires and witches were real, they posed a growing threat to the public, and Neal was in a high-risk group.

At the meeting's conclusion, he called Neal into his office. "Thank you for giving me the push. No secrets for either one of us."

Neal nodded as he slid into a chair beside the desk. "You're looking at a reformed man."

That was classic rock music to Peter's ears. Equally important for the upcoming sting was that Neal's head was back in the game. Two weeks ago, the cybercriminal Rolf Mansfeld attempted to brainwash Neal by using a virtual reality program. After a week of intensive therapy, Neal had learned how to control the false memories Rolf and his brother Klaus had implanted.

Neal glowed when Jones and Diana accused him of conning them. All well and good, but now he'd be more eager than ever to set in motion the op they'd spent the past few weeks designing. The undercover assignment would be one of the toughest he'd ever faced. He was physically ready, but mentally?

Neal admitted he continued to have nightmares about the virtual ordeal. Peter suspected that only the Mansfelds' capture would bring him the closure he needed, and for that to occur, they'd have to move forward with the op. One more week of desk duty before pulling out the throttle was Peter's compromise solution.

"I'll finish the Braque forgery tomorrow." It was as if Neal could read his mind. Offering it for sale on the black market would kick-start the Adler con. "Mozzie's willing to take it to France for us. He can leave on Monday."

"Do I want to know where he'll store it?"

Neal shook his head. "It will be safe. You have Mozzie's word on that."

"That's good enough for me." For once Peter had complete trust in Mozzie. He wanted Adler captured as much as the rest of them. "I'd like to see your forgery before he takes it away. How about Sunday afternoon?"

Neal nodded. "I'll finish aging it tomorrow morning. The forgery will be ready for your inspection. After that, the con can start whenever you're ready." A sneaky half-smile flitted across his face. That could only mean one thing. It didn't take long for the confirmation.

Neal reached for a pen and began twirling it between his fingers. "Diana and Jones thought we'd planned something paranormal for Adler. Maybe we should."

"Don't tell me it involves Hitler clones."

Neal took his comment as a joke. He held his right index finger under his nose and said something in German before he broke into a snicker. "Nothing that obvious. What I have in mind is much more reasonable. Henry and I are supposed to be out of control. It would be just like me to make a video of the U-boat discovery. And naturally I wouldn't want it to be a dry, factual account. I'd likely get inspiration from The Blair Witch Project and decide to turn the U-boat into a ghost ship. No Hitler clones but perhaps the malevolent spirit of an SS officer."

"Will Henry go for it? Given his sensitivity to ghosts—"

"That's what will make it even better," Neal insisted, blowing away his caution. "I can make it part of his birthday gift."

Neal and Henry liked to plan over-the-top birthday parties for each other, but this would add a new meaning to the term. What would Henry's reaction be? Neal would have to wait to find out. Henry had already left on a two-week sailing trip. In a typically devious maneuver, he'd rolled a supposed vacation with his boyfriend Eric into an essential part of the con. It made Peter wonder how much of his plan he'd disclosed to Eric. The expression need to know as practiced by Neal and Henry had gotten them both into a mess of trouble in the past. Both of them now claimed they'd reformed, but Peter was taking a wait-and-see approach before declaring victory.

Still, the video could be useful for the op and it would also give Neal something to focus on during the upcoming week of desk duty. He'd acquired a healthy respect for how much trouble a bored Neal could get into. "Go ahead. Write up a detailed report on how you'd prepare it, including how it will be used in the con. After I've reviewed it, we'll discuss it with Hughes. Have you heard anything more from Angela?"

"Not about identity fraud. Her boyfriend Michael is going down to Shepherdstown this weekend to visit her." Neal rested his elbows on the armrests and leaned forward. "Don't tell Diana. She'll think this is another part of the conspiracy, but Angela's having the kids perform a musical version of Dracula."

"She is? How old are the kids?"

"Seven to ten, but it's not as bad as it sounds. Instead of blood, they're using vegetable juice. Have you ever heard of Bunnicula?"

"Only too well. I've read it many times to my brother's daughters. It was one of their favorite books."

"Same for Angela. For a girl who loves rabbits and Gothic horror tales, the story of a vampire bunny who lives off vegetable juice is irresistible to her. She's using it as a teaching tool, and has written a musical version for the kids to perform."

Angela was a talented singer and pianist. She was now drawing on those skills for her graduate work in ethnomusicology at Columbia.

"I hear El will be attending a play this weekend," Neal said.

Peter nodded, surprised Neal knew. "She and Janet are meeting Electra Stavrou for lunch. Afterward, they'll go to the matinee performance of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. How did you hear about it?"

"Electra called me last night and mentioned she'd be in town. She reminded me that she hoped to see some of my paintings the next time she was in New York. She'll drop by my studio tomorrow after the play."

They'd made the acquaintance of Electra and her sister Maia last month when they stayed at Jenny Jump State Park during astro camp. The sisters had been in town for a Wicca festival. El and Janet had become better acquainted with Electra over dinner one evening when the men had been busy with camp. Peter was happy to not be invited. He and Satchmo were looking forward to watching baseball instead. "Are you going out with her afterward?"

Neal gave a put-upon sigh. "Don't tell me you're worried that she'll make a move on me."

"Hey, I'm not concerned, but El will undoubtedly ask. It's illogical since she freely admits she likes Electra."

"And Satchmo was doing his share of growling too. Tell them both to relax. Electra did ask me out to dinner, but I already have plans."