Owl Creek Mountains, Wyoming

Vicki looked up from her paperwork at the passing scenery. The sun was just setting behind the mountains, washing the valleys in hues of amethyst and gold. It was isolated country. Since they left Denver, the nearest international airport and arrived in Cody, something had been nagging Vicki. As the last of the sun's rays vanished from the horizon, Vicki knew what it was. Henry. He sounded hurt, angry when they spoke. She glanced to her watch and made a mental adjustment for the time zone change. She had an hour until sunset for him.

Mike kept himself focused on the road. "Are we going the right way?"

"South on the 120 till Cottonwood Creek. The Red Clouds live in the middle of nowhere. This looks like it." Vicki replied, her mind still elsewhere.

"Didn't that vampire live somewhere in Wyoming? The short one?" Mike already knew the answer. After she left Toronto a few months back, he called in some favors to friends in the US and got a dossier going on her. Place of residence Cottonwood Creek, Wyoming. Employer self-employed and the Hot Springs County sheriffs department as a police photographer. The rest was murky. According to the State Department, she was an orphan from St.-Die France and immigrated five years ago. Property records showed homes in half a dozen countries with dates spanning two centuries. Nevertheless, she was a vampire. And Mike did not trust her.

"Nyte? I'm not sure, I could ask Henry…" Vicki trailed off as Mike scowled. "Mrs. Red Cloud's son moved off the Wind River Indian Reservation two years ago. While they are not living on the reservation, they are still under jurisdiction of the tribe. Tribal elders are asking that local law enforcement not get involved in the case, but Mrs. Red Cloud says local ranchers are searching on their own."

"A kid lost in this territory? The kid could be anywhere?" Mike groused as he pulled the car off into the parking lot for the Cottonwood Creed Feed and General Store.

San Francisco, California

"Lot number 1811, Portrait of Archduchess Maria Antonia of Austria aged 12. Oil on Canvas. By Martin van Meytens. Opening bid 300. Do I have 300? 300. 325?"

Nyte sighed softly. Marie Antoinette's portrait. So far, this was the most interesting item in the auction. However, Nyte did not like her that much to purchase it. Not at that price for a sub-par painting that was only famous because the woman lost her head. Literally. If the dress she wore in the painting were up for sale, Nyte would not have hesitated. It was before Queen Marie's pannier stage. Nyte shuddered at the memory of having to wear pannier, or clothes hangers under the already ridiculously large skirt to make it stick out more. Big dress, itty-bitty person. It looked ridiculously then and hilariously so now. Nyte only wore them at court. At home, she threw fits to be allowed to wear her dress with a simple hoped petticoat.

1788 - Alsace-Lorraine Region, France

"Hurry up." Dona Marta hissed, throwing the dress over Marie's head. Marie had been down in the river again, by the mud on her under clothing. Silly girl. "Senor Chevalier has already arrived, and you are late."

"What does it matter Marta if I'm late." Marie replied, muffled by the layers of the skirt.

"What does it matter? Pfft." Marta growled, tugging hard on the lacings of the dress, drawing Marie's waist in smaller. "You know what this matters. The ball won't start until the family makes their arrival and the suitors are getting bored. Do you want any of them to leave before they see your sister?"

Nyte rolled her eyes, as she was dressed. Once again, things were about Therese and making a good match for her.

"There. Bonita." Marta was finally done and turned the mirror so Marie could see. The dressmaker had done a fine job. The dress was lavender, off the shoulder with a skirt with the right about of bounce, but without overdoing it. Marta had her ladies pull her hair up off her face. "Now go…" Marta shoed Marie out the door.

As Marie descended the stairs, she could hear the gossip. Lady Terese was eligible for marriage tonight. Marie was old news. Her betrothed was detained in Spain so at least she was free to mingle under the watchful eye of Dona Marta that was. The young men in the room paid little attention to her, except one. He had the most brilliant hazel eyes.

Owl Creek Mountains, Wyoming

"Peter Red Cloud's body was found in section three, upstream from his fishing gear. He didn't drown but was dragged there. We have three men teams in sections five through seven. I'd like you to join the search in section eight. We only have one man out there, our best tracker, but I'd like a few more eyes." Randy Stormcloud spoke, referring to the search grid on the map.

"Maybe I could stay here, and man the phones?" Vicki started. She hated this part. With her RP, her night vision was shot. She would be helpless out there but she was not about to admit that. She had gotten very good at skirting the issue and getting out of things without revealing she was half-blind.

Randy Stormcloud did not seem to hear her. "Ah. Axel." He gestured to the man that came through the front door wearing a black cowboy hat. "Your new search team. Mike Celluci and.."

"Vicki Nelson. We've met before Randy." Axel smiled at the two out-of-towners. "This make national news or somethin'?"

Vicki could not but help to smile at the demon. He had a way about him that made him easy to be around. The opposite of his wife. "Peter Red Cloud's mother hired me to search for her granddaughter." Vicki glanced around for Nyte, but did not see the petite redhead anywhere.

"She's out of state." Axel said, reading Vicki's thoughts by the expression on her face. "Now if you'd come with me, we'll get you saddled up. The terrain is fairly easy for a rider.

1888 – Vancouver Island

Quesalid watched as Tseiqami beat his massive wings and headed out to see. Tseiqami was Lord of the Winter Dance, enemy to the God of the Sea. The massive bird-god headed out to see to battle, bringing thunder and rain to the island.

Raising his voice, Quesalid chanted praising Tseiqami for victory and the blessings brought to the Kwakwaka'wakw people.

Winnipeg, Canada

Henry flashed the young woman his best smile. She had all but lain across the signing table, giving him view of her ample blessings. Tempting, but not for what she had in mind. All night his mind kept wandering back to Vicki out with Mike. He should be there helping her. After all, she asked him to take a more active roll in her cases.

A shadow fell over him and Henry looked up to the next person in line. He was old, face well lined in wrinkles. Indian, a shaman by the necklace. The man opened his mouth to speak. A bird's cry echoed through the bookstore. Henry wheeled around, but the man was gone. In his place was a nerdy young man, clutching his graphic novel with a shaking hand. "Um Mr. Fitzroy?"

Henry shook his head, "I'm sorry." He took the novel and signed, before standing up. "Brenda, cancel everything." He said as he grabbed his coat from his chair and left in a rush, leaving his editor to deal with the throng of upset customers.