back. “Johnny Love,” she said softly. “Oh, my God.”
That was the dream image she’d had before she’d woken up. Not Mick, but the young dead actor.
She shivered, disturbed.
But she knew where the image had come from.
As she’d hit the bed last night—this morning—she’d kept her eyes open long enough to reach for her iPad and search “Saul Mayo and Johnny Love” on Google. She had learned one very interesting thing. Mayo had been the producer of Johnny Love’s last movie, the cult classic Otherworld. So, the two had known each other, worked together.
And she’d incorporated the photos of Johnny Love she’d been looking at into her dream.
She shivered to shake off a strange chill and grabbed for her phone to check the time.
11:00 a.m., which meant Sailor was probably back from her run, the little freak. If Barrie was lucky, both her cousins were still at home. She definitely needed to talk.
And there would be no more obsessing over Mick Townsend. It was daylight; it was over. “It never happened,” she said aloud.
She even felt a touch of guilt. After all, in the rush of hormones she’d completely forgotten, but the fact was she had glamoured herself. “It was an attraction spell, for heaven’s sake,” she murmured. Which meant that everything would undoubtedly be completely normal when she saw him again. Which made her feel relieved…and a little sad.
She sat up in bed and was confronted with myriad images of herself. There were mirrors all over the bedroom. But despite her appalling behavior with Mick Townsend last night, it wasn’t like she was some sex-crazed exhibitionist. She’d grown up with a wall-size mirror as a constant companion in the dance classes she’d taken as a child, and she had always been especially fond of mirrors set across from each other to create infinite images. As shape-shifter Keeper, she dealt with beings whose specialty was multiple and deceiving images, so the metaphor fit. It was her bedroom, after all, so why shouldn’t she have it the way she wanted it? Secretly she was thrilled that Merlin had decorated Gwydion’s Cave like a Roaring Twenties cathouse; it meant she could live surrounded by that decadence and pretend that it wasn’t her own taste.
She stretched her way out of bed, then pulled on her favorite tangerine silk Chinese-dragon-patterned robe and stepped out onto her patio adjacent to the pool. It was a perfect time of day and perfectly lovely; the hills were bright with sunshine, and the estate was deep enough in the canyon to always feel far removed from the city hustle.
She could see both her cousins’ cars parked in the drive, so she hurried through the pool area over to the main house, enjoying the feel of the warm dry breeze on her skin.
As they’d settled into their Keeper duties, the cousins had established a morning ritual, the Morning Report, a meeting of the three of them over coffee while they discussed any Keeper or house-related issues. Since Barrie was almost always on the night shift, and both Rhiannon and Sailor often kept odd hours themselves, it was often more like a prenoon meeting.
Barrie punched the code into the keypad by the front door and entered Sailor’s Mediterranean Gothic mansion, with its several bedrooms upstairs, a grand living room and staircase, and a family room that led out to the pool. All three of the cousins’ houses might have been curio museums; they were filled with Merlin’s collections from a lifetime of loving magic—and the eccentric. Rhiannon’s house featured superb carnival attractions: glass booths housing an animatronic gypsy fortune-teller and a magician who seemed to have a mind of his own. In the main Castle House, now Sailor’s place, there were Tiffany lamps and Edwardian furniture, and busts and statues and all manner of art.
Barrie found Sailor and Rhiannon in the kitchen at the breakfast table enjoying extra-large cups of coffee. There was a whole pot steaming fragrantly in the coffeemaker and pastries arranged on a plate, the heavenly muffins and scones Rhiannon was always scoring from the Mystic Café where she played guitar and sang several nights a week.
Both her cousins looked up at Barrie as she stepped into the kitchen: Rhiannon, a fiery beauty with flaming red hair, and Sailor, with her movie-star profile, softer auburn hair and gorgeous eyes.
They looked so expectant that Barrie asked automatically, “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re waiting for you to tell us,” Rhiannon said.
Sailor overlapped her. “You were out all night, we were hoping there was a man involved.”
“Only if he’s good enough for you,” Rhiannon qualified.
Oh, no, Barrie thought to herself grimly. There is no man. No man at all.
Aloud she said lightly, “Not a man. Two of them. Only they’re dead.”
“Oh, it was business,” Sailor said, and sounded disappointed, which gave Barrie a surge of irritation. Now that her cousins were happily paired off she was constantly feeling the pressure of their hopeful expectations for her. Well, it’s not that easy to find someone in L.A., she thought at them resentfully…and instantly had a sudden, unwelcome memory of Mick Townsend crushing her against him. She felt her stomach flip with desire. She had to force herself away from the thought to focus on Rhiannon.
“I said, ‘Who’s dead?’” Rhiannon repeated.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about the first one. Saul Mayo,” Barrie answered, and watched their faces.
“Oh, my God, of course I heard, it’s all over town!” Sailor exclaimed. And then she frowned. “But he’s not one of ours.”
“I know. There was another, a shifter,” Barrie said, and suddenly felt the prickle of tears. “He died on the Boulevard…”
“Oh, no, Barrie, not Tiger,” Rhiannon guessed, and reached across the table to take her hand. Her cousins knew all about Barrie’s crusade to help the young street shifters.
Barrie nodded and swallowed back the tears. “It looked like an OD, but I think they’re connected.”
“Tiger and Mayo?” Sailor gasped. “That’s huge.”
“I know,” Barrie said, feeling a flush of anger. “And I’m not going to let whoever did it get away with it.”
“What do you need?” Rhiannon asked.
Barrie felt another rush of warmth, this time affection. The cousins were new to Keeperdom. But in a matter of just months, Rhiannon, as Canyon Vampire Keeper, had captured a murderous vampire, and Sailor, Elven Keeper, had tracked down the source of a rare blood disease fatal to Elven, and their successes were largely because of the cousins’ pledge of loyalty to each other before any other Keeper alliances.
“Well, here’s the thing,” Barrie told them. “I think you can help.”
She filled Sailor and Rhiannon in on everything she had learned last night, leaving out all encounters with Mick Townsend, because, of course, none of that ever happened.
She was gratified by the gasps from her cousins when she told them about Tiger’s special ability to portray dead Hollywood stars and the bellhop’s statement that Mayo had checked into the Chateau with a young man who looked like Johnny Love.
