Page 7 of Dark Stars
"What's your name?" Bobby asked.
The hunter eyed him warily, but said,"Alejandro Mendoza, and I swear to god if you say, 'but you don'tlook Mexican,' I will shoot you in the spleen."
Jones rolled his eyes. "Let's go." He ledthe way out of the warehouse. Normally he'd never put his back to astranger, least of all a hunter, but Bobby had his back, and it putthe hunter between them.
Alejandro whistled as they stepped outside."Nice car."
Jones preened as he always did. "Thanks. Hadher since the day she was first sold. Bought her for $3000. Whereyou parked?"
"In that pool of shadows," Bobby said,nodding toward the back wall of a dilapidated shed where to thenaked eye there was a whole lot of nothing.
"How…" Alejandro frowned. "What in the hellare you?"
"Trouble," Jones drawled, "but nothing foryou to worry on."
Rolling his eyes again, Alejandro claspedone of the amulets he wore and muttered something beneath hisbreath. A moment later, light flared, and where before there'd onlybeen shadows there was now another car. From the way Jones gasped,it was a good one.
Just looked like any other car to Bobby."What's so special?"
"That's a 1968 Chevy Camaro Yenko/SC," Jonesreplied, eyes still on the car. "Weren't many of them made. Wheredid a kid like you get one?"
"My grandpa bought it off the lot the daythey went on sale. He got number eleven of two hundred one."
Bobby rolled his eyes. "If you two are donefawning over your children, can we be going? I have mysteries tosolve."
Jones snorted. "Yeah, it's the mysterythat's got you excited. Let's get going, then."
They headed out, Jones leading the way andAlejandro following until they came to an intersection at mainstreet, where Alejandro peeled off right to go to his B&B.Moments later, Jones pulled into the parking spot right next toBobby's truck. "Try not to cause too much trouble, and keep yoursnacking to a minimum. It's real damn hard to explain things awaywhen you don't leave no bodies."
Bobby grinned. "Do my best, Sheriff. You andyour sweetheart play nice while I'm gone."
"Get the fuck out of my car," Jones said,pale skin flushing pink. "Sweetheart. I'd rather be turned into ahuman."
Laughing all the way, Bobby climbed out ofJones' car and into his own. He drove down to the market on thecorner, grabbed up plenty of snacks, and finally headed home.
Though he researched and pondered as he'dtold Harold he would, by the time morning came around he was longpast ready to get going. He threw everything the truck and headedout while the sun was still thinking about rising.
As ever, he had ways of traveling that wouldgo much faster than a six-hour drive, but what was the point ofliving amongst humans if he wasn't going to act like them? When inRome and all that.
Putting his phone in its little holder onthe dash, he hit the speed dial for Harold.
"Are you causing trouble already?" Haroldasked.
"Not yet. Anything new to add to my littlemystery?"
"Nothing that's come my way. I'll keep youposted, but at this point you're more likely to learn itfirst."
"All right. I ran into your sheriff at thediner last night."
"He's not 'my' sheriff, asshole. What did hewant?"
Bobby explained all that had transpired."Name Mendoza mean anything to you?"
"Sure as shit does. Mendoza is an oldhunting family. Traditionally they worked in Central and SouthAmerica, but some of the family immigrated to the US a couple ofgenerations back, so I'm not surprised they're spreading across theStates too. Good family from what I've heard, not a bunch ofgenuine psychopaths hellbent on justifying serial killing."
"Well, he's certainly made a new bestie inJones, given how they were fawning over each other's cars."
"Good for them," Harold said, soundingcompletely and totally like he meant it, and not at all like he wasjealous. "Let me know when you arrive. I'll probably be in thewoods catching the demon king of gym socks."
