That was the draw for the immortal creatures to come to this festival. Many loved yodeling. Also, the human crowd tended to do a lot of shrooms, which probably made it easier for creatures, like the fairies, to dance out in the open.
Damien took a quick survey of the parking lot area, which was jam-packed with food trucks for the employees, cars, and semis, likely used to transport the equipment. Hundreds of people milled in the parking lot, gathering supplies and heading to the big tents on the other side of the fairgrounds.
Damien gathered his two Chihuahuas from the backseat and walked them with leashes to a grassy patch near a guarded enclosed tent. The portable power station. Unfortunately, the festival had had the foresight to set up gas generators as backups just outside.
“That is not good,” Damien muttered while Bonbon sniffed around for a place to pee. “The second we knock out the main power, those generators will kick on.”
“Leave it to us.” Bonbon finished his business and kicked up some grass. “When we’re done, we’ll wait for you by the car.”
Damien casually unhooked their leashes, and the two dogs sniffed their way into the bushes.
Damien tucked the leashes into his bag of weapons and started walking toward a row of silver trailers clear on the other side of the parking lot. “Sky, if you can hear me, tell Pet I’m on my way. Be ready to run.”
Unfortunately, she wasn’t answering him back. Maybe she was too drained, or perhaps she knew showing herself in a public place might not be in the interest of rescuing Pet and MF.
Suddenly, a staff member came running from the festival area out to the lot. “I’m checking now!” the guy called out on his radio.
The power was out.
“Yeah. Looks like a fuse blew. I’ll get the generators going until we can fix it,” the guy said, speaking into his radio. “Oh, hey there, little dogs. Are you lost?”
The man reached down and tried to pick up Bonbon. He collapsed to the ground.
Well done, demon. There would be no repairs to the power today.
Damien wove through the vans and trucks, reaching the first trailer. He yanked open the door and stepped inside.
“What are you doing in here?” asked a woman sitting at a table with piles of papers in front of her. No cages. No creatures.
“My apologies. I thought this was the porta potty.” He stepped outside and looked around.
There were several more trailers, but which ones held the creatures?
Damien went to the next trailer and decided to knock this time.
A man dressed in a pleather leotard, smelling of marijuana, answered. “You bring my sandwich?”
“Sorry. Wrong trailer.” The man was with one of the bands.
Damien went to the next few trailers. Both had the blinds open. No cages inside.
Where are Pet and MF? Damien turned on his heel, running a hand through his hair.
Right on cue, his phone vibrated.
Sky: I’m in the trailer. Full load of creatures. It’s moving south. Will text you address when we arrive.
“Damien!”
He turned to see Elenore walking toward him with a group of very large men. They were all dressed in tie-dye, Birkenstocks, and ratty jeans. The small print on the front of their denim vests read, “The Killer Eagles.”
Subtle. “Elenore, you must be careful.” He looked around. “They were using the metal detectors to find…product. We took out the power, but who knows if the security guards are on the hunt or how good they are at tracking. They already have a full shipment.”
“Where is it?” Elenore asked.
“Being moved. I am about to find out where.”
“We’ll go with you.”
And do what? Frighten the traffickers with your group wardrobe? “Better you and your friends go to the festival entrance. Try to spot friends coming in and warn them away.”
“You got it.” She leaned in and gave him a sniff.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing. You smell…different.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “Still like you, which is how I found you, but different. Less sad.”
What an odd thing to say. He gave her his number and instructed them to call with an update in one hour.
He was about to head to his car when a thought hit him. The woman in that trailer.
“Did you notice her shirt?” Damien asked his beast.
It was missing blood. Shirts always look better with red splatters.
“No, it had an SBP logo.” Damien turned back around and reentered the trailer.
“You can’t be in here,” the woman protested.
He locked the door behind him.
“Who are you?” she snapped.
“Me? I am the immortal tailor. And someone has been fucking with my customer base.”
Ten minutes later, Damien left the trailer, his hands in tight balls.
That was…unexpected. Sure you don’t want to go back in there and slice her up?
“No.” Damien had gotten his answers. Part of them, anyway. The woman claimed she only filled out the inventory logs. After that, she didn’t know what was done with the creatures other than the people running things were part of a major pharmaceutical company. Were they experimenting on these creatures? And where did the trafficked women fit in?
Maybe they’re being experimented on, too, he thought.
The text from Sky came in with an address. Time to find out the answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
With the two demons in the backseat, Damien parked in front of the building’s entrance. They were only minutes from the festival at what appeared to be a run-down veterinary clinic. The brown paint on the wood siding was peeling away, and the windows hadn’t been washed in about a decade. Around the side of the building was a silver mobile trailer.
“Bonbon, you know how I feel about your driving, but this time, I want you to get behind the wheel and stay here with the engine running. Lock the doors.”
“Oh! I get to be the getaway driver. Did you hear that, honey?”
“I’m hungry,” she whimpered.
“I know, babe. We didn’t get much time to eat at the festival. Maybe we’ll hit a mall after this.”
Sky: Hurry! Hurry! They just took Pet. I don’t have the energy to help her.
Damien grabbed his bag of tools, shut the car door, and walked inside.
At the counter was an older woman reading a magazine.
“Hello,” he said. “My dog is in the car. He ate something and is throwing up.”
“We only have one vet working, and he’s tied up right now. But there’s a place down the road—”
“Please, his pulse is weak! He may only have seconds to live.” He offered her his most pleading expression.
“Okay. Bring him in.”
“He is very large. Can you help me carry him?”
“Sure.” She came around the counter, and he opened the front door for her.
“Why is that Chihuahua behind the wheel?” She stepped out, and Damien shut the door, locking it behind her.
“Hey! What are you doing?” The woman pounded on the door.
Damien headed around the counter, into the back. There were no cats, dogs, or creatures in the cages against the wall, but he could see the lights on in one of the rooms.