“Thanks,” Carwyn said, glancing at the greenhorn at the end of the table. “What was your name, son?”
The young man sat up straight. “Jack. John, but everyone calls me Jack.”
“My friend and I” —he nodded at Ben— “we’re going to do everything to get you some answers. If we can’t find Christy, we’ll at least find out what happened to her. And if anyone hurt your girlfriend, you know our type doesn’t wait for a judge and a jury.”
Carwyn left it at that; Jack could fill in the blanks.
“Yeah,” the young man said. “Thanks.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Her family would appreciate it.”
ChapterTen
There was no snow falling when they made port in Ketchikan, but it was pouring rain. Ben stepped onto the dock and felt the space under his feet. The crisp night air, redolent with water and chilled from the northern wind, swirled around him, kissing his skin and filling him with a fresh burst of energy.
“Vecchio?” A middle-aged man in a heavy green parka nodded at him. “You the priest?”
The human had a beard and mustache, his brown hair threaded heavily with steel grey. His skin was weathered and tan; Ben guessed he’d spent his life on the water.
“The priest would be my friend.” Ben turned to see Carwyn clambering off the boat.
Despite the vampire’s age, he never seemed to have developed sea legs, so there was visible relief when the earth vampire set foot on the dock. “But he’s not a priest anymore. Name’s Carwyn.”
The man said nothing but gave Ben a nod that told him he understood.
He didn’t reach out to shake Ben’s hand, which told him the human was accustomed to vampires. He waited until Carwyn had bid effusive goodbyes to the crew and exchanged phone numbers with Jack, the young man with the missing girlfriend.
By the time the big man made his way to meet them, the cold had crept down Ben’s neck and wrapped icy fingers around his throat. He didn’t mind winter in most places, but he was quickly learning that winter in Alaska was a whole new level of cold. It reminded him more of his training time in the northern mountains of Mongolia. But wetter.
“You Katya’s man?” Carwyn asked, stomping his feet a little as he walked toward them.
“Bradley Buckland,” the man said. “Just call me Buck. You Carwyn?”
“Yes, and you’ve met Ben.” Carwyn looked up at the pouring rain, his red hair quickly getting soaked. “Can we get on real land and indoors?”
“Sure thing.” Buck led them toward a walkway to dry ground. “We’ve got about six hours of night left. Where do you want to start?”
“We came up here to look for Katya’s ships,” Carwyn said. “I was told we were meeting one of Katya’s lieutenants. That you?”
“That’d be my wife, Jennie. She’s in charge, but she’s tied up with some local stuff right now.” He lowered his voice. “You heard about the raids?”
Carwyn nodded, and Ben kept his mouth shut.
“We’ve heard there were no survivors,” Carwyn said. “She dealing with?—”
“The families. Most of the dead were Tlingit like her. Big extended family.”
“We’re deeply sorry about your community’s loss,” Carwyn said.
“Goddamn Russians,” Buck muttered. “Katya’s folk excepted, of course.”
Ben asked, “People around here think Oleg was involved?”
“Who else?” Buck shrugged. “They were happy to be rid of him a hundred years ago, and now he’s back. Jennie thinks he’s taking revenge on some of the folk who went to Katya when she took over.”
“What do you think?” Carwyn asked.
“Ah hell, I wasn’t even alive then, what do I know?” Buck said. “Come on, what’re your elements? Where you gonna be comfortable? We got rooms for all kinds.”
Carwyn nodded at Ben. “He can fly, but I prefer a ground floor. We’ve got time tonight, so catch us up with whatever information you have on the captains, the crews, and the last-known locations of the boats that are missing. Also, how am I getting around? You have any seaplanes that can take our kind?”