“Are you telling the public about that?” Bran asked.
Daisy shook her head. “No. I don’t want to alert the poachers. Okay, tell me what happened. Mind if I record this?”
I shook my head, and after she set up the digital recorder, I told her everything that had happened. I also told her about the bond and how poachers often tried to sever it, to re-bond the dragonette to a new owner.
“People can be so fucking cruel.” Daisy shook her head. “We’ll do our best to find whoever did it,” she added, turning off the recorder. “I’ll be in touch. I’d say don’t put yourself in danger by hunting for him, but I know you. Just be cautious and try not to tip them off.” She gathered her things. “I’ll talk to you as soon as I hear anything. Stay strong.”
As May saw her to the door, I glanced at Bran. “Green van…any contacts at the DMV?”
He shook his head. “No, and it wouldn’t help. There must be thousands of green vans in the country, and chances are They’re not from this area. I’ve heard of these gangs before. They travel through smaller towns, grabbed their victims, and move on before they can be caught. They tend to have their headquarters in much bigger cities. Usually, international ones. Like Seattle, which is an international hub.”
The doorbell rang again, and this time Grams went. She returned with Bree, who hurried over to give me a hug.
“I came as soon as I heard. Are you all right? Have you talked to the sheriff?” With Bree, the questions came fierce and fast.
“Yeah, we just finished talking to Daisy. Apparently, several shifter women and familiars have also been kidnapped. It sounds like a gang of poachers.” I shivered. I knew what was going to happen to those women. There were any number of depraved men — and some depraved women — out there, willing to pay good money to feed their fantasies.
“Well, whatever you need me to do, I’m here.” Bree was such a good friend. We didn’t always have a lot of time to hang out, but we did our best. And she had seen me through Rian’s death, helping to convince me to move to Starlight Hollow from Port Townsend.
“I just want to go out and start hunting down green vans,” I said. “If they’re not locals, then won’t it be more obvious? They’re bound to have a license plate that isn’t from around here.” I hated just sitting around, it always made me feel so helpless.
“That’s not the best idea,” Grams said.
“Have you got any better?” I challenged her.
With an exasperated sigh, she set down her mug. “I know very well that you’re stronger than you used to be. You have my insistence on good food and the gym to thank for that. But there are lots of bigger and badder people in the world, and they aren’t going to be swayed by your tears or your loneliness. Fancypants’s best chance is for us to let the police do what they need to do.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that,” Faron said. “Too often, the cops come along too late and don’t get there until something tragic has happened. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go out and scout out the bars and hotel parking lots. Starlight Hollow isn’t that big of a town. We only have a handful of taverns and a couple of hotels.”
“That’s a good idea,” Bran said. “I’ll go with you. We won’t stay out too late.”
“I can’t. I have a new job and I can’t stay out to early morning like I used to.” Faron pushed back his chair and stood. “Do you want to come with me?” He asked, turning to me. “If Bree wants to come along, she can ride with Bran.”
Despite Grams and May interjecting with their disapproval, Bree and I headed out toward the cars. I settled in the passenger seat with Faron, while Bree rode with Bran. As we pulled out of the driveway, all I could focus on was that Fancypants couldn’t feel me with him, and I was terrified that he’d think I’d abandoned him.
Starlight Hollow was far from even a good size small town. With about 3000 inhabitants, the stores tended to roll up the sidewalks at night, and except for the supermarkets, restaurants, bars, and coffee shops, most of the town was closed by 7 PM. There may have been one or two big-box stores that were open past then, but I wasn’t going to bet my savings on it.
As Faron drove, I tried to sit back and relax. While he had an SUV, he liked to drive his 1977 Ford Mustang. I didn’t care much about cars, except whether the vehicle could get me from one point to another, but Faron had a passion for old cars and he belonged to a car club that met once a month to discuss rebuilding scrap vehicles. He had grown a lot since being kicked out of his position as king a month ago. Now, he was no longer stifled by the title.
While he dressed the same, he had modified his spending, and had dropped just about every required meeting that he had had with the pack. “If they’re not going to let me be their king, I’m not about to be their lackey,” he had said. After resigning from the Pack, he’d been more relaxed than I had ever seen him.
I knew he still missed his brother, and he regretted failing his ex-wife, as he saw it. But she was dead now, and there was nothing he could do to resolve the issue. Unfortunately, I doubted his brother would ever revive their relationship. He hadn’t wanted to be king in the first place, but once he took over from Faron, he seemed to take his responsibilities on as deep of a level as Faron had taken them. And that meant going no contact with his brother.
“We will find him,” Faron said.
“I wish I felt as confident as you sound,” I said. “Knowing that he could be auctioned off to the highest bidder makes me sick to my stomach. It will kill him, Faron. Dragonette’s can’t be re-bonded, not if their original witch is still alive. This will drive Fancypants mad.”
“Don’t give up so easy,” he said. “You’ve never been a quitter. And I’m not going to let you give up on Fancypants now.”
I nodded, staring out the window as we came to the Blackened Kettle Tavern. It wasn’t a place that I’d ever go willingly. For one thing, it attracted a lot of lowlifes. For another, it reminded me of the tavern in which Rian and I had gotten drunk before we staggered home and had met the Butcher. As we pulled into the parking lot, I began to scan the cars. There were several vans, but none of them were green under the glow of our headlights. There was one that was silver, but it had a company name printed on it and I recognized the business. It belonged to a cleaning company. Another was white, and another red. But neither of them could be mistaken for green. The rest of the vehicles were cars or motorcycles.
“Who the hell rides a motorcycle in snow?” I asked.
Faron shrugged. “An idiot, I suppose.”
“There aren’t any vans here that look even remotely the one Fancypants described.”
After a few minutes, we had scoured the parking lot and the one next to it. Finding nothing, we pulled back onto the street and moved on.
