Nobody's Angel (The Earth Angels) (3 page)

“Who cares whether or not it’s on the record? There’s nothing to tell.”

“Okay.” Frustrated by her lack of progress, she reached over and picked up her smartphone charging on the counter. “I’m capable of finding the answers for myself.”

He pushed his empty oatmeal cup away. “What are you doing?”

“Indulging in my profound love for super-fast search engines.” With a determined click she sent out the request, then raised her brows. “Goodness. Who knew there was so much information out there regarding strange colors in a person’s eyes? Setting aside the articles on camera flare, there seem to be lots of hits on the occult and paranormal—”

The hand that held her phone was suddenly engulfed by his, as if her fingers were no bigger than a toddler’s. Startled, Kendall looked up to discover he’d once again left his seat and was now towering over her. Too late, she realized she was trapped on her stool as he leaned his free hand on the counter beside her, his knee brushing her outer thigh while his other hand kept hers captive.

Alarm spurted through her, but this wasn’t the self-preservation sort of alarm a rational woman should feel when cornered by a man she didn’t know. This alarm was an inexplicable thrill, fueled by an attraction to a man who made all her feminine instincts flutter. If his goal was to intimidate her, he was doing it wrong. The only thing he’d managed to do was jack her pulse up straight into the stratosphere.

“You do like to push things, don’t you?” Zeke moved closer still, until there was no more than a breath between them. “Don’t you know there are some things you can’t push?”

“You say this when you have me trapped?” Far from cowed, she decided turnabout was fair play. She leaned forward just enough to invade his space, while nearly head-butting him in the chin. “I think you’re the one who needs to learn that lesson.”

“Now, now. No need to get feisty.” He was smart enough to inch back, but the fierce delight in his half-smile told her he was more than up to any challenge she was insane enough to throw out. “I’m just trying to offer some friendly advice.”

“What? To not be too pushy?”

“Some people might see pushiness as an unflattering trait.”

“I’m not worried. I have other traits that make up for it.”

The light in his eyes turned scorching hot. “I’m sure you do.”

“Besides, who gives a damn what people think? I’ve never let that slow me down.”

“Why am I not surprised?” The powerful fingers holding hers softened, and his thumb caressed a path over her knuckles as if captivated by the texture of her skin. Then, with the faintest pressure, he held down the power button until the screen went blank. “Let me put it another way. Your investigative instincts could land you in a place you can’t get out of.”

Her brows arched. “That’s not a threat, is it?”

“It’s a statement of fact. If you’re planning on an exposé focusing on strangely lit eyes and the occult, you’re going to come off sounding...Well.” He grimaced in an almost apologetic way. “Like a candidate for the funny farm.”

The unexpected jab hurt. “Is that what I sound like to you?”

Again he brushed a caressing thumb over her knuckles, a bittersweet gesture that somehow condescended. “You sound like someone who’s struggling with the trauma she’s experienced.”

“I’ve experienced two traumatic events, and the only thing I’m currently having trouble with is
you
,” she shot back, stung. “I know what I saw, and I know you meant something specific when you questioned me. This isn’t a flight from reality.”

“If it’s not a flight from reality,” he said with great gentleness, and it was that very tone that made her want to wince, “then what is it you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” With an angry flick of her wrist, Kendall dislodged his hand. “I need to understand what happened to my friend, just as I need to understand why I was attacked by a man who had that same white veil in his eyes that Dave had—the same veiling that you seemed so interested in. Now, are you going to be honest with me about how you knew to ask what color that veiling was, or are you going to keep making me feel like there’s something wrong with me?”

Something flickered across his rugged face before he stepped away. “If you were attacked by someone with a veil across his eyes, I’d say you’d be stupid to dig into it any further. You got out alive—twice. Be happy with that and go on with your normal, human life.” With that, he packed up the refuse of their breakfast and let himself out.

Kendall stared after him, mind churning. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should simply drop the madness of the night before and pray it never happened again. But Dave had been her friend, the only real friend she’d made since moving to San Francisco.

Even more than that, though, there was the quiet, awful fear that now ran through her like a slow-killing poison. Every instinct she possessed told her that the thing that had ended Dave’s life had also attacked her with the single-minded intent of ending hers. She didn’t know how it was possible she was targeted, or why, or even what it was that had her in its sights. None of it made sense, and that was the problem. As long as she didn’t understand what was happening, she was condemned to live in abject fear.

Would it attack again? Whatever “it” was?

Her ruined throat worked on a convulsive swallow while her stomach tied itself in knots, and she shivered in the warmth of the loft. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t built for constantly looking over her shoulder and waiting to be a victim. That was no way to live. If she wanted to save her sanity, the only option she had left was to dig into the truth behind what really happened the night before, and face it head-on.

Zeke Reece wasn’t the only source who could help her make sense of it all, she decided, her hands visibly shaking as she reached for the last of her coffee. There was one other who knew even more than the fantasy-inspiring paramedic.

If she wanted to stay alive, she had to find the masked man.

Chapter Three

“If I were a masked man, where would I be? Fortress of Solitude or the Xavier Mansion?”

The apartment was quiet as Kendall munched on the sinfully salty fries she’d gotten from the diner across the street, before letting her fingers do the walking on her laptop. She didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know finding someone who wore a mask was going to be tough. Obviously he had no desire to be found, but if she had to use up her lifetime’s allotment of research mojo, she’d find him. Whether Zeke believed her or not, her life depended on it.

After linking to KPOW’s research databases, her jaw dropped at the number of masked-man sightings there were throughout the city. Apparently her savior was a bit of a local celebrity, with his very own superhero name—The Guardian Angel. Not exactly the most inventive moniker the world had ever seen, but people clearly didn’t know what else to call a guy whose primary hobby was swooping in to save the day. The first article she clicked on was proof enough of that.

Feral Animal Attack in Alamo Square Park, Two Teens Wounded

Eureka Creek High School students Kia Kagawa and Orlando Boatwright were attacked around ten o’clock last night as they crossed Alamo Square Park. The magic of their first date came to an end when Boatwright, sixteen, suffered injuries to his head and neck as an unidentified animal attacked him. Kagawa broke her wrist while trying to pull the animal from Boatwright.

According to authorities, the teens were saved by a man dressed in black. This unidentified man tackled the beast with such ferocity they flew into the darkness and seemed to vanish. In pain and in shock, Kagawa and Boatwright were unable to describe their black-clad savior, as the teens thought he may have been wearing some sort of mask. Toxicology and blood alcohol levels on the teens came back negative, and while authorities won’t officially confirm this as a sighting of San Francisco’s urban legend, The Guardian Angel, unofficially they believe it was yet another event involving the mysterious crusader. Meanwhile, area residents have been told to be on the lookout for stray animals.

Kendall rubbed at the tension gathering at the base of her neck before she scrolled down to another headline that made her do a double take.

Guardian Angel Saves Man Who Claims Dead Wife Tried to Kill Him

When police responded late last night to a possible jumper on the Golden Gate Bridge, they were in for a surprise. According to witnesses, tractor-trailer driver Virgil T. Smoot was screaming for help. Yet when officers approached to pull the burly truck driver from the edge, he informed them his wife was trying to make him jump. His dead wife.

If that wasn’t strange enough, while they waited for crisis counselors to arrive, something described as “fast and black” zoomed up from the unlikely direction of the water. The teetering Smoot was then snatched from the edge as if he weighed no more than a toddler, only to be flung back into the closed-off roadway. A black-masked figure, described by witnesses as The Guardian Angel, then landed on the stunned trucker and reached down to Smoot’s chest. Though the officers on scene have conflicting accounts as to whether or not Smoot was physically assaulted, one thing is certain. By the time the officers reacted, Smoot was rendered unconscious while The Guardian Angel jumped off the bridge himself, and vanished.

“Whoa.” Kendall shivered and rubbed her arms for warmth. If the impossible actions of the masked man weren’t enough to rattle her, the similarities to both Dave’s inexplicable behavior and her attacker’s were too much to ignore. But before she could puzzle out what sort of crazy contagion had afflicted these unconnected people, another headline convinced her that no matter how bizarre her own life had become, it could always be worse.

Masked Men, Red Eyes and Zombies, Oh My

Authorities are still trying to untangle the violence that erupted during a concert in Stern Grove last night. As jazz band Carrot Seeds wrapped up its set, twenty-four-year-old Dodi Joaquin pulled a Swiss Army knife and screamed that his dead father was stalking him. Joaquin’s partner, photojournalist Dennis Sondenhein, claimed he saw the supposedly deceased man as well, with one startling exception. According to Sondenheim’s statement, he claims “the image of the man looked like Dodi’s father, but his eyes were glowing neon red.”

Bystanders were attempting to subdue the knife-wielding Joaquin when a masked man identified as The Guardian Angel appeared. But rather than apprehending Joaquin, San Francisco’s masked hero inexplicably went after someone in the crowd. After a brief tussle with this unidentified person, The Guardian Angel was reportedly thrown several feet into a concession stand while Joaquin was at last subdued by fellow concert-goers. Both The Guardian Angel and the individual he attacked disappeared in the confusion, while Joaquin was taken into custody by park officials. Both he and Sondenheim had traces of THC in their systems, the active ingredient in marijuana.

A low whistle escaped Kendall as she reread the story. While it was comforting that someone else had seen a discoloration in the eyes in association with a burst of violence, the color she’d seen was white, not a glowing neon red. Again her brain obediently offered up Zeke’s question about eye color, but she shoved it away with a growl. He’d made it all too obvious that door was locked, sealed and bricked over, and if she tried to force it open, his official plan of action was to make her feel like a babbling loon.
Bastard.

Without warning, her heart froze as an all-too-familiar headline leapt out at her.

Guardian Angel Couldn’t Stop a Grisly Murder-Suicide at Fisherman’s Wharf

Tourists got to see much more than the seals near Fisherman’s Wharf last night, when fifty-five-year-old unemployed handyman James “Jimbo” Denton attacked and killed his female companion, forty-five-year-old Angelique Raspberry, before killing himself. Witness reports are contradictory, running the gamut from the couple peacefully sharing a bag of popcorn to engaging in a shouting match preceding the violence. To further confuse the issue, a security guard claims that as he approached the scene, a masked man dressed as The Guardian Angel suddenly appeared and attempted to break Denton’s grip on Raspberry, but was repelled. According to the guard and other witnesses, after strangling Raspberry, Denton then put his fist through a nearby popcorn vendor’s glass display case, retrieved a shard, and slit his own throat. Both Denton and Raspberry were pronounced dead at the scene. There are no reports of where The Guardian Angel went in the aftermath.

It was her story, Kendall realized, stunned. This incident was part of the murder-suicide story she had given to Dave to lead off the newscast. Little did she know her masked hero had tried to save the day there, too.

Tried, and failed.

Goose bumps broke out when her attention snagged on how the two people died. Just as she had nearly been choked to death, Angelique Raspberry had been brutally strangled. And just as Dave Beamer had taken the nearest implement—a pen—to his neck, the handyman had done the exact same thing. If she didn’t know better, she’d think this particular vein of insanity had been scripted by a singularly violent, if unimaginative mind.

And that was the problem. She
didn’t
know better. She didn’t have a clue what was behind Dave’s attack of the crazies, or why she had been assaulted. Or, for that matter, what that vaporous thing was that had taken off into the night.

But she’d bet The Guardian Angel knew exactly what it was.

* * *

He should have known she wouldn’t give up.

Scowling, Zeke watched Kendall from the curtains of shadows he’d pulled around himself as she weaved her way through the dwindling crowds at Pier 39, the sun nothing more than a memory as night laid claim to his city once more. Why the woman didn’t bother to get her errands done during the day was beyond him, but apparently not even a near-strangling was enough to scare her. At this point, he doubted anything would.

He watched her cast about the pier, looking like the poster child for the helpless and muggable, and he cursed under his breath. Where were her survival instincts? She was proving to be more of a pain than he’d ever imagined, taking up time and energy he couldn’t spare when there was a rogue geist with weird abilities running around. The last thing he wanted was to babysit a bull-headed journalist so bent on establishing herself as the Twenty-first-century’s version of Geraldo she was willing to turn a blind eye to the dangers lurking around her.

Only she wasn’t blind. Not completely. That was the problem.

The Wharf was tourist-friendly by day, but nighttime brought out the seedier dregs of society. Added to that were the unseen denizens—beings that fed off the electrical fields of the city’s lights and gorged themselves on the roiling flow of emotion that emanated from people who used the cover of darkness to hide their dangerous appetites.

The night was for people like him. Not Kendall Glynn.

As silent as the shadows surrounding him, Zeke kept pace with her, and he told himself he was simply being watchful as he drank in the long-legged gait that swayed the lush curve of her hips in an almost hypnotic rhythm. As the fog rolled in off the bay and the brine-kissed breeze ruffled her hair, he admired the muted fire of it as she tucked it behind her ear. Maybe she was here playing tourist, he thought, a low sigh escaping him when she gnawed on her full lower lip as she searched the boardwalk area. She hadn’t been in San Francisco all that long, after all...

His meandering thoughts jerked to a halt when she zeroed in on a familiar popcorn vendor, and he sighed again.

She really was such a pain in the ass.

“…questions about the murder-suicide that took place here.” Kendall’s voice, much improved since the last time he’d heard it, carried to him on the chill night air.

“Do you now?” The man behind the popcorn cart—which now had plastic taped over the hole that had been punched through the glass—shook back shoulder-length dreads. “I’m thinking how nice it would be if a pretty lady bought something while we talk about it.”

She flashed a smile at the vendor that was a real wowser. For some reason it irked Zeke no end.

“I think I can handle that. Have any Junior Mints?”

“What sort of man would I be if I didn’t have Junior Mints for a pretty lady?”

Zeke’s irritation grew when Kendall laughed outright, a husky, fluttery sound designed to bring a strong man to his knees. He doubted she’d ever call the vendor an ass the way she had with him. And he’d saved her life, for crying out loud. Where was the gratitude?

Oh wait, that’s right. In his frustration over the geist getting away, he’d thrown her gratitude back in her face.

Crap. He
was
an ass.

“Keep the change.” She handed over a large bill and tucked the candy into her bag. “So. The other night?”

“I saw the whole thing. The man and his lady bought some popcorn, nice as you please. He fed her, all lovey-dovey, then suddenly he just...flipped. Strangled her right in front of my eyes, then did himself in, along with the popper on my cart.”

“Did you see anything unusual about him?”

“You mean besides crushing his lady’s throat with his bare hands?”

“Besides that.”

“Like what?”

Hidden under a tightly woven cloak of shadows beside a souvenir kiosk, Zeke leaned forward in an effort to hear her.

“Were you able to see the attacker’s eyes?”

“Those crazy eyes.” The vendor made a gesture to ward off the evil eye. “That man, he stared straight ahead, like he was sleepwalking. Only he was sleep-strangling.” Then he shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he didn’t want to share his popcorn.”

Her snort covered his.

“Can you remember if he said anything? Vocalized anything? Screamed?”

“Just one thing—‘you’ve had this coming for years, you no-good, whoring bastard.’”

Kendall’s brow puckered. “He said that to his
female
companion?”

“That’s it.” The vendor nodded. “Like I said, he was fine one minute, a madman the next.”

“I know this will sound strange, but was there anything hanging around him? Like fog or maybe a cloud of smoke?”

Zeke couldn’t stop the wince.
Way to sound crazy, lady
.

“What? There was nothing like that.” The vendor seemed to shrink behind his cart before he picked up its handles and began to trundle away. “I saw nothing like that and I want nothing to do with something like that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” She took a quick step after him. “Forget about the cloud, it doesn’t mean anything. What about the masked man the security guard reported seeing? Did you see The Guardian Angel?”

He almost lost his grip on the shadows veiling him. Well, well. Kendall Glynn was just chock-full of surprises, wasn’t she?

The vendor kept going. “Don’t know anything about a masked man, or a security guard.”

“Sir—”

“You want to talk to the security guards, they have a kiosk across the street in the parking lot. I want nothing to do with this.” And with that, the vendor practically ran down the wharf.

The curse that popped out of Kendall made Zeke grin. Then she turned with a resolute tilt of her chin he would have spotted a mile away. She was across the street before he knew it, and it didn’t take a huge leap to know her next stop was an interrogation session with any poor schmuck who happened to be on duty at—

He sensed it before he saw it.

The telltale ice pick stab behind his eyes screamed out the presence of a spirit. He spun wildly in search of it, only to move at top speed toward the geist no more than ten feet from Kendall. It was the same hideous thing he’d seen before—a hunchbacked, ogrelike phantasm whose aura popped and oozed with a sickly blight that spoke volumes of just how old the poor thing was. An old spirit meant bat-crap crazy and mean, and without a doubt this one was the meanest he’d ever encountered.

No. Not just
mean
. Murderous. And that was a first for a geist.