Harvest Hunting (34 page)

“And the second reason?”

“From what we can tell, for some reason, they kept it from the shifters that they’re Demonkin. But the basement reeked of energy that—had I been a little more perceptive—would have told me just that fact. They wanted their privacy, and they didn’t want to be recognized. And that fact may have saved our butts, since their unwillingness to use the warehouse also seems to have been the one factor that prevented them from finding out about Amber and the spirit seal.”

“So what next?” I asked.

“As usual. Go in swinging and do our best not to get killed. There’s no way to know what’s going on in there without just charging in. Somehow I don’t think applying for a job at Emporium Meats is going to net us an invitation into their so-called factory.” Menolly rubbed her hands on the legs of her jeans. “I guess that’s all she wrote, ladies and gentleman. Shall we hit the streets?”

“Wait a minute. Morio and Camille, you’ll both have to be very careful. Chances are they’ve got a nice little stash of Wolf Briar in there. And all bets are on that they’ll use it if they see us coming, in hopes of knocking at least a couple of us out. You two better go in on the tail end and wear masks. That won’t interfere with your spell casting, will it?” I frowned, hoping they’d say no.

They didn’t make it easy.

“Yeah, actually, it might,” Camille said. “The best we can do is go in at the back and run like hell if they let loose with that crap.”

“Everybody get your weapons. We have to move, because if they haven’t killed Doug and Saz yet, you know they’re planning to. And Amber—it’s anybody’s guess why—and for how long—they plan on keeping her alive.” I stood and stretched. We were headed into battle again, and each time, I always wondered if we’d all make it out alive.

The Emporium Meats warehouse was down past the docks, in the Industrial District of Seattle. The warehouse sat smack in the middle of the wasteland existing past the ferry terminals, a mile or so north of Georgetown. Over the years, Georgetown and the surrounding area had taken on an almost schizophrenic quality. On one hand, charming, neo-bohemian shops and houses were scattershot through the district. On the other, gangs wandered the area, poverty seemed all too abundant, and the grittiness of the industry warehouses and factories, along with the train yard and tracks belonging to the BNSF Railway, lent an air of danger to the streets.

As usual, we were taking two cars: my Jeep and Morio’s SUV. Menolly, Vanzir, and Roz were riding with me, while Trillian, Smoky, and Camille rode with Morio. I put in a call to Chase to meet us there.

As we headed south on First Avenue, the streets were fairly clear. A few gangbangers—probably the Zeets—were hanging around, but the night was too wet and chilly for much outdoor activity. We passed the piers to the ferries on our right, and the back side of Pike Place Market on our left, and continued along past the Seahawks Stadium and Safeco Field, also on our left.

As the streets wore along, the charm vanished, and the darker, seedier aspect set in. We zoomed along on the overpass leading over the BNSF train yard—a maze of tracks and boxcars in weathered pinks, greens, whites—all colors from so many different companies and places. The thought of being stuck down there, on foot, gave me the creeps.

We weren’t just near gang territory but also vampire territory—and not vampires like Menolly, who did their best to keep themselves in check, but vampires like Dominick and Terrance, who led the cry for vamps to quit trying to assimilate and to create their own culture that didn’t try to mimic human culture.

Menolly had been tossed out of Vampires Anonymous, the one group where she might have done some good against the fanged dangers, because Wade—the leader of the vampire self-help group—was afraid she’d spoil his bid on becoming regent over the Northwest Vampire Dominion. We hadn’t heard lately how his campaign was going, but I had the feeling next time they met, there would be hell to pay on his part.

As the overpass glided back to street level, I pulled into a side parking lot shortly after we passed South Dawson Street. We were parked right next to the Emporium Meats warehouse.

“Here we are. And it looks like we’re going to have company.” I nodded to the parking lot. There were at least five cars that we could reasonably assume belonged to the shifters.

“Camille and crew are here,” Menolly said, as Morio’s SUV parked alongside my Jeep. “We’re too near Dominick’s for comfort.”

“Not only that, but take a look across the street—there appears to be a new club in town,” Roz said.

We glanced across the darkened road to the neon sign that glowed green. THE ENERGY EXCHANGE. Somehow, I didn’t think it was a pay station for Puget Sound Power and Light. No, with a name like that, the joint could dabble in several things, none of them registering good on my internal danger meter.

“I don’t like the feel of that,” Menolly said. “But I don’t think it’s vampire.”

“No, it’s not.” I slid out of the driver’s seat and stood there, staring at the glowing neon tubes. “There’s something . . .”

Just then Morio and Camille wandered over, gazing at the club’s sign. “Sorcery. I can feel it.”

“You think Van and Jaycee run that joint, too?” Seattle was becoming a scary place to live. Even as more and more Fae were drawn here, so it seemed were the lowlifes of the Supe world.

“I doubt it, since they’re Tregart. But I bet they frequent it.” Camille glanced over her shoulder at the warehouse. “We’ll have to worry about this place later. We need to get into the warehouse and see if they’ve got Amber and the men.”

“How we going to do this?” I considered the building. Morio was right—there was an entrance to either side, and the dock had its own door—as big as the entire loading bay. It operated like a garage door, and I wondered if there was a mechanism on the outer wall to open it.

“My guess is they keep that locked from the inside,” Vanzir said, following my gaze. “But the side doors shouldn’t be hard to break through. The locks look old, and I doubt if they’ve bothered to buy new ones. After all, who would ever suspect them?”

“Wilbur told me, when I escorted him home, that coyote shifters are arrogant. They never think anybody’s going to be able to keep up with their tricks. So let’s give the side door a try.” Roz gave me a little push and, in a bad Humphrey Bogart impression, said, “This is your department, doll. How’s about you go first?”

I motioned Camille and Morio to the rear. “You two stay back there. We fight better without men down, and Camille sure doesn’t need to be caught by a flurry of Wolf Briar again. Menolly, you and Smoky up front with me. Vanzir and Roz, bring up the middle.”

Grateful to the moody October night for the rich darkness that surrounded us, I led the way across the parking lot to the concrete steps, up to the walkway that ran the length of the warehouse. Briefly, I wondered if it curved around to the sides, but we didn’t have time to check it out. Not right now. I headed over to the left-side door and knelt beside it, flashing a penlight on the lock. It was old and looked like it hadn’t been used for some time.

Gesturing for the rest of them to stay there, I tugged on Menolly’s arm, and we bent low, crossing to the right-side door. The lock on this one was oiled and rust-free. Yep, this was the door they used to enter the building. I’d bet the bank on it. Once again, we crossed back to the left, and I hurriedly whispered my thoughts to the others.

“If we go in here, they won’t necessarily be expecting us. If we take the lesser-used route, we may buy ourselves time to root around without being caught. And while I expect we’re going to have a fight on our hands, I’d prefer to get in, grab Amber and the guys, and get out again before anybody catches us.”

It wasn’t entirely true—I really wanted to pound the crap out of them, but hey, the less stress, the better. Why make waves that might attract Stacia if we could be sneaky? Granted, we weren’t good at sneaky, but we’d give it the old college try once again. Why I thought this time would be any different than usual, I didn’t know, but then again, I was always being accused of being an optimist.

Camille nodded. “Good thought. Spring the lock.”

I pulled out my picks and began mucking around with the lock. It was simple, no big-assed deadbolt, and it looked like the original that had come with the building. I took out my tension wrench, inserted it in the lock, then slid in the pick as I pressed my ear to the door and began working the pins.

Click. Click. Click.
The pins fell into place.

Yeah, I was good at this. It occurred to me that between my glamour and my ability to pick locks, I might do better as a thief rather than a private investigator. Gods knew, I had few enough cases lately. Of course, if I spent more time advertising and hunting for clients, I’d be pulling in more work. Then I’d have to find the time to do it. Content to leave matters as they were, I finished jimmying the lock, and the latch sprang.

“We’re good to go,” I whispered. “Just try to keep the noise level down.” I turned off my penlight and sucked in a deep breath.

And then we headed inside.

 

 

The door opened into a long passage that was dimly lit by flickering florescent tubes that ran the length of the hallway. We wouldn’t be able to hide in this light, but considering that the corridor was empty, right now it wasn’t a worry. I edged through the door, looking for traps, but the place was deserted. Motioning the others in, I glanced down the hall to make sure that we wouldn’t be surprised if somebody came around the bend. The corridor ended, turning to the right, but between the turn and us were three doors to worry about—two on the left side and one on the right.

As Morio closed the door behind us, I sucked in a deep breath and did my best to softly creep along the tiled floor. The tile hadn’t seen the end of a mop in a long, long time, and the dirt was ground in, years old by the look of it.

When we came to the first door, this one on the left, I pressed my ear against the wood and listened.

Nothing
.

I tried the knob, but the door was locked. Thinking that maybe one of these might lead to our missing Weres, I pulled out my pick set again. Two minutes later, the door was open, and we were staring into a room that had a desk and not much else. Except for one hell of a dust bunny problem.

We moved on to the middle door on the right. This one was unlocked, so we listened carefully again, then I cracked it, ever so slightly, and paused. Nothing. No sound, no indication there was anybody in there. I eased the door open another few inches and peeked around the corner. The room was dark but full. Motioning for everybody else to wait outside, I tapped Menolly on the shoulder to follow me.

Deciding to chance it, I pulled out my penlight and sent the narrow beam around the room. It was jammed full of boxes and bags of all sizes. Hmm . . . stockroom? I slid through two stacks of boxes and stopped to examine the lettering on one. It was fully sealed and was marked as containing canned peaches.

“Peaches?” A quick gander around showed the rest of the boxes to be filled with tinned fruits, vegetables, tuna, peanut butter, and a number of other goods. “What, are they planning on this becoming their fallout shelter?”

Menolly poked me in the ribs. “Shush. Who knows what they’re up to? But seriously, there’s enough food in this room to feed a family of four for a year.” She frowned. “They believe in some post-apocalyptic future or something?”

“I don’t know.” I opened another box that wasn’t marked as food and had simply been shut by tucking the corners of the flaps under one another.
Holy crap!
I jumped back before I could stop myself.

“What?” Menolly leaned in past me to take a look. “Motherfucking pus bucket. What the hell are they planning?”

Staring at us from the depths of the box were sticks of dynamite. Plural. As in, I had no idea how many, but too many to count offhand.

“I have no idea, but I sure don’t like the way that looks. They aren’t primed for use—the blasting caps must be in a different box, but fuck, this stuff goes bad.” I’d already been whispering, but I lowered my voice again. “We don’t know how long this has been here. Dynamite degrades. I don’t know just how much I trust being in a building full of this crap.”

“There’s a door on the other side of the room.” Menolly nodded in the direction of the opposite wall. “I’ll take a quick listen, and then we’ll get out of here.” She silently glided over to the other door and pressed her ear against it. Then, just as silently, she backed up without opening it and motioned toward the hallway where the others waited.

As she shut the door behind us, I leaned against the wall—the opposite wall, considering that the room we’d just vacated held enough dynamite to take half this building out of commission—and let myself breathe.

“We have to be very careful. The Koyanni apparently like to play with things that go boom. As in dynamite. As in at least one full box in that room. They also have enough food to stock a corner grocery store—looks like they’re stockpiling. I have no idea why, but consider them armed and dangerous. And for the sake of the gods, do not send anything that explodes into that room. No lightning bolts, no energy balls, or we could blow this joint sky high.”