Chapter 17

Garth showed up not long after we'd cleaned up. We filled him in on the details of the case, loaded up the Impala and his Ranchero, and hit the road. We pulled into Portland a couple hours later and got rooms at a relatively nice motel, since Don's nest was footing the bill. Don initially bitched at sharing a room with Garth, until Dean offered to let the vampire split a room with us and then started to go into explicit detail (when Garth wasn't in earshot) about what he and I would be doing later that night. The expression on Don's face even had me sniggering.

We then split up. Garth and Don temporarily "borrowed" a utility company truck and uniforms to case the immediate area around the nest and set up surveillance cameras. Dean and I put on our Fed suits, and then Agents Hicks and Hudson paid a visit to the journalist who wrote the articles on the homeless disappearances.

Fred Murtagh, a thin, harried-looking man in his fifties wearing a really cheap suit, seemed astounded to see us. "But why are you even here? I didn't think anyone read those pieces!"

"We think your disappearances might be tied to a case we're investigating," I explained. "The articles were quite brief, so we were hoping you could supply us with more details."

"Another case? So this might stretch beyond Portland?" Fred asked eagerly.

Dean said blandly, "We're not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation. You understand."

"But any information you can offer could be of immense value if there is a link," I added.

The reporter sighed. "Okay. Well, I started hearing word on the street that people were going missing. Mostly homeless or runaways, though a couple of times it was a prostitute working solo. The police haven't gotten involved because no bodies have turned up yet, and these are the sorts of people who really don't like to confide in outsiders, especially cops. It took quite a while to get any of them to open up to me, and I'm completely harmless!

"Anyways, there doesn't seem to be a pattern to the victims like you'd expect with a serial killer—different sexes, ages, races, orientations, you name it. No particular pattern to when they were grabbed either as far as day of the week, time of the month, time between disappearances, et cetera. The only commonalities I could pick up is that they were all grabbed at night, usually alone though occasionally in groups of two or three, and they were fairly healthy—no drug users, no one sick with even so much as a cold, no one too thin or weak. The fact that the victims were all healthy makes me suspect organ harvesting or human trafficking, but without any proof even my own paper won't let me pursue this!" he said in frustration.

"Were there witnesses to any of the abductions, or did anyone notice something before or after?" I asked.

"No one's seen any of the people getting grabbed—the perpetrator's been too smart. No camera footage either. Best I could get is a few people thought they saw a white sedan in the area before some of the disappearances, but I couldn't get anything more definitive on the car to be able to trace it."

"Any chance we could get copies of your notes? Or at least a list of names, dates, and locations for the abductions? Names of the people you talked to would be very helpful as well," I said.

Fred looked hesitant. "I'd like to help. But it took a lot of work to get these folks to trust me enough to talk. They're not going to talk to a Fed anyway, and if they find out I gave you their names . . ."

"Look, man, we understand. We're not trying to cause you any flak. But we need to stop these kidnappings, and there might be something in your notes that could break the case," Dean told him earnestly.

He started to waver. "If this does turn out to be something bigger . . ."

"You'll be the first journalist we contact," I promised.

He hesitated a little longer before pulling out a thick folder and handing it to me. "Please make sure I get those back. Make copies if you need them for evidence, but I have to have the originals if the story breaks."

"We'll try to do our best, Mr. Murtagh. Here's my card in case you think of anything else." I handed him a business card, and then we left.

After getting into the Impala, I texted Garth to have him look for a white sedan at any of the houses the nest was using, while Dean drove us back to the motel. Once in our room, we divided up the notes and began going through them.

I received a reply from Garth about an hour later, stating that they were on their way back. It also confirmed that parked next to one of the houses was a white Cadillac CTS and included the license plate. I opened up a program on my laptop that Frank had helped me build and entered the vehicle information and plate number. The program slipped into the city's traffic camera system and began searching through the stored footage for images of the CTS. It would also monitor new footage for sightings of the sedan.

By the time our companions knocked on our door, we had finished going through Fred's notes. There were notes of our own taped to the wall, as well as a map marked with the locations of the disappearances. We were now analyzing the data from the traffic cam program and noting on the map where the car's travels overlapped with the marked areas.

"We got the surveillance cameras set up all around the block, and the feed should be coming into your laptops. We also marked off some points of interest on the satellite printout of their block—good places to watch or ambush, where the power and telephone lines go in, stuff like that," Garth reported. He then looked at what was up on the walls. "Looks like you got a lot outta that reporter dude!"

"Yeah, poor guy put a lotta work into this story. He thinks it could be organ leggers or human traffickers. 'Course he has no proof, so no one's taking him seriously," Dean said.

Don studied the map. "Are all your . . . err, jobs so fucking complicated?"

"Sometimes—it depends on what we're dealing with," I replied as I marked another data point on the map. "In this case, we know who and what we're up against, but the difficulty is in their numbers and how smart they seem to be so far."

"Plus we can't go nuclear on 'em 'cause we gotta get your boy out safely," Dean put in. "We can't go after 'em anyway for at least a day or two. We gotta study their movements, figure out their security, that sorta shit. They got us majorly outnumbered, so we gotta play this smart."

"Fortunately, the journalist's information on the disappearances has given us a very good idea of their hunting patterns," I said, indicating the map. "We know the areas they like to use, and we know they like to grab new victims every six to fourteen days, depending on how many they took the previous time. Their last abduction was two victims about nine days ago, so they're going to start prowling for fresh blood soon.

"We need to thin their numbers out if we can before hitting the nest. Our thought is to attack their hunting party when they go after their next target. We figure they're sending out four to five vamps in that CTS if they're sometimes snatching up to three people at a time. Taking them out ahead of time will be a big help."

"So you're gonna risk some poor bum or homeless kid becoming collateral damage?" Don asked incredulously.

"'Course not, dumbass! I'm gonna be the fucking bait—gonna pose as a runaway and hang around one of their hunting zones for the next coupla days. See if I can talk to the people there about the kidnappings while I'm at it," Dean explained.

"Dean is ideal for this. They tend to prefer their victims to be young and attractive when possible, and he's going to shift a few times while he's out there too. If they realize he's a shapeshifter, he'll be an irresistible target. We wait until they go after him in an isolated spot, I follow them in, and then the hunters become the hunted," I said.

"Oh. Sorry 'bout the assumption then." The vampire considered for a moment. "So I take it if you two are doing that, me and String Bean here will be monitoring the cameras on the nest."

I nodded. "Besides what Dean mentioned earlier, we need to know where Justin is staying, and if he leaves the nest at all. It would be ideal if we could get to him away from the main group."

"Won't doing that or wiping out the hunting party clue the others in that something's wrong?" Garth asked. "Them ramping up their security even higher or skipping town ain't gonna help us."

"They ain't gonna have time to realize they're screwed if we do everything the same night—gank the hunting party, snatch Justin if there's an opportunity, and hit the nest," my brother said. "It all depends on when they take the bait and go after me, so we hafta be ready to move on the rest when they do."

"If we wanna whittle 'em down before the big fight, why don't I go into the nest? Pretend to join up and see if I can take any of 'em out from the inside," Don suggested. "None of 'em knows who I am, after all."

"One of 'em does," Garth pointed out. "Justin mighta been your boy before, but we dunno if he's drunk the Kool-Aid since he's been here. Even if he hasn't, d'ya trust his poker face enough to risk your life on it?"

"It's too dangerous however you look at it, man. You'll be by yourself and seriously outnumbered if things go sideways," I added. "We simply don't know enough about them to know how they'd react. They might let you in, they might kill you on sight, or they might require you to do something drastic as some kind of initiation."

The vampire looked disappointed. "Fine. What's the plan for right now?"

"Dean's going to the nearest Goodwill to get an outfit for his disguise so he can go out there tonight. In the meantime, we watch the camera footage and see what we can learn," I responded.

When Dean came out of the bathroom several hours later, my breath caught, but not for the usual reason. He now looked the way he did when he was sixteen—his features were softer, his hair was longer, and he was several inches shorter. He was also a lot thinner, so he'd obviously modeled his appearance on one of the times when he'd gone hungry for too long. He was clad in the Goodwill rejects he'd found and grunged up. From the perspective of the child I was at the time, Dean had been larger than life, fearless and indestructible. But from my adult vantage point now, he appeared young, small, and vulnerable.

Seeing him like this sent a rush of emotions through me. Sadness at the hardships he had to endure, the childhood he never had. Anger at our father for allowing that to happen, for leaving this boy in circumstances where he had no other choices. Guilt that I didn't realize what he was going through in time, that I was unable to prevent any of it.

My big brother recognized what I was feeling, of course, and put his arms around me. It's okay, Sammy. I'm okay. I ain't that kid anymore. Now I'm healthy, strong, and happy, all thanks to you.

I leaned into his chest. I know, Dee. It still doesn't make what happened to you back then alright. You should've been riding a bike, playing ball, stealing kisses under the bleachers—not raising a child when you were a kid yourself, not being forced to starve yourself or sell yourself to support us, not learning to kill things that most adults can't even handle. Dad should've done more to take care of you, to protect you. I should've done more.

No, Sammy, no. None of that was your fault. You were just a little kid at the time, and I did my best to make sure you wouldn't find out 'bout any of that shit. Besides, who's to say that we'd be here now if none of that crap went down? Now c'mon, we got work to do tonight. He squeezed my shoulders.

We stopped at the next room to drop off my laptop so Garth and Don could continue the surveillance on the nest while we were out. Don stared at my husband in fascination.

"That is really fucking weird, man," the vampire observed.

"You have no idea, dude," Dean said with a smirk, his voice much lighter than the deep adult tones I was used to.

"Let us know if the Cadillac leaves the nest and approaches our location," I told the two of them before we left.

We then drove to a spot a few blocks away from one of the vampires' hunting zones and hid the car. I shielded myself as tightly as I could and cast the Notice-Me-Not spell before stealthily following Dean as he wandered into the rundown neighborhood. I found a hidden spot where I could watch the whole area, while he mingled among the derelicts and street kids huddling around trash fires and trying to find shelter where they could.

Dean played the part of a scared, naive runaway flawlessly. He hunched down just outside the edges of one of the groups, trying not to draw attention to himself. When someone finally addressed him, he timidly moved closer and tried asking some questions. He said he'd been hiding somewhere several blocks away where people kept disappearing, so he came here hoping it was safer. It took a little while, but soon several of them opened up, telling him of the people who'd vanished from this area and giving him warnings to stay close to them and not go anywhere by himself at night.

As this was going on, my phone vibrated to indicate a text had been received, which turned out to be from Don. Assholes left a little while ago, should be there in less than ten. Sending traffic cam feed to your phone.

I passed the message on to my brother and began searching for the white sedan and its occupants using both the footage and my various senses. It wasn't long before I found images of the car approaching on nearby cameras.

A couple minutes later, Dean, who was the more sensitive telepath, reported. I can feel the vamps nearby. Gonna start dropping the breadcrumbs.

The "crumbs" in question were of three types. For the first, he started letting his features shift a little whenever he acted emotional, as if he was having trouble maintaining control. He turned away each time in such a manner that his companions couldn't see, but a car going by the alley would have a clear view. He also hadn't taken his evening dose of eye drops, so his eyes briefly flared silver whenever he turned away from the firelight or looked into a vehicle's headlights. Lastly, he loosened the constraints on his scent—normally carefully regulated to pass for human—just enough that the vampires stalking the area could detect what he was. All this was meant to suggest a young, inexperienced shifter, which would make him an even more enticing victim.

Sure enough, the Cadillac drove past the alley a couple of times and then paused where the occupants would have an unobstructed line of sight to where Dean was hanging out. It stood there, its windows partially open, for a few minutes before driving away. We were fairly confident the vampires wouldn't try anything tonight—their previous modus operandi had been to case their hunting territory for a day or two before nabbing any victims. There was a good chance they'd make an attempt tomorrow night, as we doubted they'd want to wait long before getting their hands on such delectable prey.

Dean spent the night there, not wanting to blow his cover. He tried suggesting I go back to the motel and pick him up in the morning. But there were still plenty of mundane threats to watch out for, so I hunkered down in my rooftop perch for a long vigil. Not long after dawn, he rose and told the few people awake already that he was going to a busier area to try to scrounge food and maybe some money. He then took a circuitous route back to the Impala, while I silently followed. We returned to our motel room, quickly washed up, and fell into bed to catch up on the night's sleep.

It was a little past noon when we woke up. We went to a nearby buffet for lunch and then met up with the others in their room to share our findings.

"So, did it work?" Don asked eagerly as we settled down on the small couch.

Dean grinned. "Hell yeah, it did! They showed up not long after you gave us the head's up, and they noticed me pretty quick. I could practically feel the sonsofbitches drooling after they caught my scent. From what I could pick up from their thoughts, the fuckers were super-excited to tell their boss and expected he'll give them the okay to make the grab tonight."

"What about on your end? Were you able to uncover anything useful?" I asked.

"We sure did! First, our man Justin did leave the nest on foot 'bout when the Caddy did. He walked outta the range of the cameras, but we suspect he went to the church and cemetery a couple blocks away from their street. He came back after a coupla hours," Garth replied. "He wasn't alone, unfortunately, but there was only one dude with him. Guy's the size of a bigass gorilla though."

The vampire continued, "It looked like Justin came out of one of the house at the end of the cul de sac, as did the car. Most of the activity we've been able to catch is from the houses at the end. The next couple had guards but not many people going in or out, and the ones closest to the cross street seemed empty. They have several guards out at any given time. Most were on patrol last night, but they're staying under shade right now."

"I marked down what we could see of the guards' patrol routes and where they matched up to some of the ambush spots we noticed earlier," Garth said, pointing to the satellite printout. "No sign of alarm systems or dogs, which'll make our jobs easier."

Dean clapped the skinny hunter on the shoulder. "That's awesome, man! Okay, we should plan on everything going down tonight, since the vamps most likely are gonna try coming after me. Sam and I will go in armed and turn the tables on 'em. You should be prepared to snatch Justin if he goes out again, so you'll wanna set up near that church. If they all go out at 'bout the same time as last night, we should be able to regroup here and still have several hours to take out the rest of the fucking nest before dawn."

"Until it's time to head out, we'll take turns watching the surveillance feed so everyone else can rest up," I said. "Dean, do you think you can get us a good supply of dead man's blood before tonight?"

He ignored Don's disgusted expression and nodded. "Yeah, I'll hit one of the hospital morgues."

We took the laptop back to our room so the other two could sleep. Dean left shortly after and returned in a couple of hours with several jars of blood, most of which he transferred to syringes and tranquilizer darts. Garth went out later to acquire a nondescript panel van which he and Don would park near the church after dark. The nest remained quiet during the day, with only a couple of the vampires leaving to make a trip to the supermarket at one point.

Once the sun had set, Dean resumed his disguise, and we returned to the same slummy neighborhood as yesterday, while Don and Garth set themselves up in the van to continue watching the cameras until Justin emerged. Each group had a dart gun with several darts and syringes of dead man's blood as well as machetes and bowie knives coated in the substance. All of us except Dean were wearing covert earbuds and mics to keep in contact.

Dean rejoined the group of homeless who'd accepted him before and offered them some of his "pickings," which consisted of our leftovers from dinner. He sat with them around another fire until I detected the CTS approaching and passed the word on. His demeanor didn't visibly change, but I could tell that he had all his senses on alert.

"I gotta take a leak. I'll just be around the corner," he told his companions as he got up and moved away a few minutes later. He said to me, One of the vamps is walking this way. He wasn't in the car yesterday. The other douchebags are waiting in the Caddy near the end of another alley over there.

Roger that. I'll start moving closer, I responded as I moved on the rooftop where I'd been watching him to a spot closer to the dumpster that he was pretending to urinate against.

The vampire approaching my brother was tall, well-groomed, and dressed in casual but good-quality clothing. He smiled and said, "Hello, little one."

"Fuck off, perv! I ain't a hooker!" Dean said defensively, sticking to his role.

"I didn't think you were. I am curious as to why a young shapeshifter is hiding in a place like this."

Dean feigned confusion. "I—I don't know what you're talking 'bout, dude."

"Sure you do. You've always been different, haven't you—been able to do things that no one else can explain? And your oh-so-normal family couldn't handle it. Tell me, how badly did they mistreat you?" The vampire's voice was kind, soothing, almost mesmerizing.

Dean looked down. "They'd yell and lock me away in the house, sometimes hit me, whenever I—I . . . lost control. They took me to different doctors, shrinks, faith healers, even tried an exorcism or two. I finally heard them talking 'bo—bout how they couldn't handle having such a fr—freak around and were gonna take me to some research facility to find out what I am. I—I ran after that—I didn't wanna get cut up like a lab rat."

"They were fools who didn't understand and didn't deserve you. There's nothing wrong with being different. There's a whole community of people out there who are different, some like you and some in other ways. They take care of each other and don't let the so-called 'normal' people hurt them," the vamp told him.

"Wha—whaddya mean?" Dean breathed and then shrank back when the vampire showed his fangs.

"Don't be afraid—I'm not going to do you any harm. Like I said, we help those who are like us. Why don't you let me take you to someplace safe?" He held out his hand.

Dean diffidently took it and let the vampire lead him towards the alley where the others were waiting. I kept to the high road and followed them over the rooftops, borrowing my husband's ability to enhance my own strength and speed to leap the gaps between buildings. Dean asked the vampire questions as they walked, talking loud enough to mask any noises I was making above.

As I was running, I heard Garth's voice in my earpiece, "Justin and friend just walked by. We're gonna go after 'em now."

"Roger that. Vamps have taken the bait here, and we're about to take them down," I replied quietly before focusing on the pursuit again.

Dean stopped when they entered the alley and saw the other four vampires near the other end, staring at him hungrily with fangs bared. He tried to pull his hand away while demanding, "Hey, what the hell's going on here?"

The vampire transferred his grip to Dean's arm and smiled nastily. "I'm afraid I wasn't entirely truthful earlier. There is a community of supernatural creatures who watch out for each other. But unfortunately for you, we aren't part of it."

Before he could drag Dean further into the alley, I slid down a fire escape and leapt off when I was a few feet from the ground, dropping the Notice-Me-Not as I landed. I said as I straightened up, "I don't think he wants to go anywhere with you, asshat."

I then raised a hand and created an energy barrier across both ends of the alley, with an illusion tied in to show a truck blocking the alley to anyone on the outside looking in. Dean meanwhile smirked at his supposed captor and shifted back to his usual form.

"Joke's on you, you stupid sonsofbitches! You're the ones being hunted now!" he crowed as he jabbed a syringe into the vamp's neck.

As the vampire started to crumple, I threw a machete towards the other hunter and then turned towards the remaining vamps. I slammed two of them into the wall with telekinesis and approached the others with my own blade at the ready. Dean swiftly dispatched the "friendly" one and joined me, and we each attacked a target.

My vampire threw a fast punch towards my head, which I blocked with the machete. He howled and grabbed his arm, and I used the distraction to sweep his head from his shoulders. I turned in time to see Dean dodge a blow, kick his opponent hard in the stomach, and bring his blade down when she doubled over, neatly decapitating her.

Meanwhile, the two dazed bloodsuckers got to their feet and tried to charge us. Dean used his telekinesis to pull the left one's feet out from under him and relieved him of his head before he could recover. I voided, grabbed the other one by the collar as he staggered past, and thumped him forcefully into the opposite wall. While he was still seeing stars, I quickly beheaded him.

As the two heads hit the ground, we heard a crash behind us and whirled, bloody blades dripping in our hands. Standing behind a pile of crates, one of which was now broken open on the ground, was the reporter, Fred Murtagh. He stared at us goggle-eyed, his face pale with shock.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean swore.