The next day, the shooting at Santa Monica Beach caused a huge stir in California.
Even though no civilians were harmed, two police officers lost their lives, and the media was relentless in criticizing the Los Angeles Police Department's poor performance.
Apparently, an officer armed with a police rifle was no match for a criminal with just a handgun.
Well, someone from the precinct must have leaked case details to the media, because now everyone in California knew the LAPD had egg on its face.
Most people, though, were unaware of the hidden truths behind the shooting.
Last night, Roy, feeling sorry for Saltana's condition, decided against a "reunion match" with her.
After a good night's rest, the spirited agent showed up at UCLA to meet Roy and Clary.
Since classes hadn't officially started, Roy and Clary had some free time.
"Roy, bad news! The 11 vampires we captured and sent to the FEA last night all turned into pus and blood!" Saltana announced.
Turned into pus and blood? What kind of move was that?
"Some kind of secret spell?" Roy asked.
Saltana nodded.
"It's a method the Vampire Council uses to control lower-tier vampires and blood slaves. High-ranking vampires can destroy them at any moment."
Roy rubbed his chin, feeling a bit stumped. He'd hoped to interrogate those vampires for intel.
But then, another thought hit him.
"Sister Saltana, this spell probably has a range limit, right?"
Saltana paused, caught off guard.
"You mean the one controlling these low-tier vampires is already in Los Angeles?"
"If the Council could cast a spell from Europe to turn the FEA's vampires into pus, then forget I said anything."
Casting a spell across half the globe? If they had that kind of power, why bother sending underlings to grab Clary?
"Roy, that's a solid theory. We need to thoroughly investigate the vampires in the city!" Saltana said.
If they could find the mastermind, everything would fall into place.
Then Clary spoke up with a question.
"Agent Rivera, any news about my mother?"
"My colleagues in Oregon checked your house. There were signs of a violent break-in, and it looked like the intruders were searching for something. Your place was trashed."
Clary's face tightened with worry.
"Is my mom okay?"
"There were signs of a struggle, but no blood or bodies. We can't confirm Ms. Frey's status yet," Saltana replied.
Clary was visibly anxious, and Roy stepped in to comfort her.
"Clary, don't overthink it. No news is good news. Your mom might just be lying low for now."
"I hope so," Clary murmured.
Just then, Mary walked in, holding a letter.
"Clary, I found this. It's addressed to you, but it's weird—there's no sender's address or info."
Clary's gut sank at Mary's words.
"Let me see it!"
She tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper with one line:
Jocelyn Frey is in our hands. If you want her alive, come to XXX location at midnight tonight. Come alone.
Clary's heart raced as she read it.
"What do I do? They've got my mom!"
Roy frowned. The timing of this letter seemed too convenient.
"Clary, don't panic. This could be a trick. Didn't you get a call from your mom last night? Try calling her back."
Clary fumbled for her phone and dialed, but the call wouldn't connect.
"It's not going through! What do I do?"
Saltana tried to calm her.
"It's possible Ms. Frey's phone is damaged, or she can't answer right now."
Despite the reassurance, Clary couldn't stay calm when her only family was in danger.
"My mom never ignores my calls. Something's wrong!"
She threw her arms around Roy, tears streaming down her face.
"Roy, you have to save her!"
Roy gently held her head, channeling some holy light energy into her to calm her nerves.
"Clary, I'll figure something out. Don't worry."
Mary, watching the intimate moment, gave a knowing look and coughed lightly.
"Ahem!"
Clary suddenly realized she was clinging to her best friend's boyfriend and quickly let go.
"Mary, it's not what it looks like! I just got carried away!"
Mary grinned.
"Hehe, I get it. Feels pretty nice having a dependable guy to lean on, doesn't it?"
Clary wanted to protest but couldn't lie to her best friend, so she just nodded awkwardly.
"Uh, can we focus on the letter?" she mumbled.
Mary looked at Roy, still smiling.
"What's there to worry about? I'm not mad. Clary's my best friend. What's wrong with sharing a little?"
Roy studied Mary's expression and realized she genuinely wasn't upset.
That was… unusual. When did Mary become so chill?
As if reading his mind, Mary explained.
"Last night, I talked with Jennifer and Nidi back at the dorm. They told me a lot about you."
So that's what happened. Jennifer and Nidi must have planted some ideas in Mary's head.
Well, that wasn't a bad thing.
Roy, Saltana, and Clary then discussed their plan for the evening.
Clary had to go to the location in the letter, but they needed a strategy.
"Even if Clary goes alone, it's not a huge issue. The Council probably doesn't know she's awakened her angel form, so we have some room to maneuver," Roy said.
The others nodded in agreement, and Saltana added, "I'll have FEAR on standby tonight, ready to move. Roy, I'm counting on you to handle things on-site."
"Leave it to me. By the way, any word from Mr. Olin lately?"
Roy shifted the topic to Gerald.
"Director Olin's in New York for meetings. The Washington situation has the feds on edge, and the FEA's under a lot of pressure. They've been in nonstop meetings," Saltana explained.
No wonder Gerald hadn't called since Roy arrived in LA two days ago.
"Alright, Clary, let's find a place to do some quick training," Roy said.
Though Clary had unlocked her angel transformation, she had zero combat experience and didn't know how to use her powers.
It was like a kid holding a gun but not knowing how to fire it.
Roy planned to give her a crash course so she could at least hold her own against low-tier vampires.
Around 11 p.m., Clary drove off from UCLA in Bumblebee.
To avoid any vampires watching the campus entrance, Roy didn't leave with her. Instead, he waited a bit before heading out on Claudia.
The vampires likely didn't expect Clary to show up alone, but both sides knew this was a game of who had better intel.
Bumblebee was fast, and Clary reached the location—a villa in the northern Burbank mountains—by around 11:45 p.m.
"Mr. Bumblebee, I'm going in. Please send Roy a message."
"No problem!"
It was a cloudy night, and the wilderness was pitch black, silent except for Bumblebee's headlights and the faint glow from the villa.
Honestly, the setting was pretty creepy.
Thinking of her mother, Clary summoned her courage and approached the villa.
She knocked, and a man's voice came from inside.
"Who's out there?"
Clary frowned. Who else would show up in the middle of nowhere at this hour?
"Didn't you tell me to come here?" she called back.
The man inside answered gruffly.
"Cut the crap. State your name!"
Clary took a deep breath.
"Clary. Clary Frey."
After a moment, the door opened. A middle-aged man with black-rimmed glasses and a masked face stood there, holding a handgun.
Clary's heart skipped a beat, but thanks to Roy's afternoon training, she kept her fear in check and stayed calm.
"As agreed, you came alone, right?" the man asked, cautiously peeking outside as if looking for accomplices.
"No one else. Just me," Clary said, frowning as she studied him.
His rough skin and deep wrinkles were nothing like the 11 vampires who'd chased her yesterday. This guy seemed… human.
Why wasn't he a vampire?
"Alright, you kept your word. Come in," the man said.
Clary had a million questions but followed him inside, suppressing her doubts.
The villa opened into a foyer, and the man quickly shut the door, leading her to a large living room.
Five others were there, all masked, each holding a gun.
Clary mentally nicknamed them based on their features: Buzzcut, Blonde, Buff, Black-Haired Sister, Shorty, and Glasses (the guy who opened the door).
(From the movie Abigail, minus the old Black guy.)
Honestly, this setup didn't feel like a vampire hideout. It was more like a criminal deal.
Glasses rejoined his group, and Buzzcut eyed Clary suspiciously.
"You came empty-handed?"
"What do you mean? Was I supposed to bring a gun?" Clary shot back.
Blonde, striking a tough-girl pose, chimed in.
"Quit stalling! Where's the ransom?"
Clary froze.
"Ransom? What ransom?"
Glasses' expression darkened as he raised his gun slightly.
"Lady, this isn't a joke. We're here for money. Don't make us get rough. Think hard."
"But I don't know anything about a ransom! Weren't you the ones who sent me the letter to come here alone?"
The six exchanged glances, clearly confused themselves.
Clary's mind raced. Was the letter not from them?
Black-Haired Sister stepped forward.
"Lady, did you bring the letter they sent you?"
Clary caught the word "they." So the letter wasn't from them.
What was this, middlemen profiting off a kidnapping?
Good grief, were kidnappings being outsourced now?
Clary had brought the Council's letter and handed the opened envelope to Black-Haired Sister.
She took it back to the group, and they all glanced at the note.
Buzzcut exploded.
"What the hell?! What's the dark web playing at? How did this get so screwed up?"
They seemed to think this was a mix-up by their middleman, but Clary was starting to piece it together.
"Wait, did you just mention the dark web?" she asked.
Shorty frowned at her.
"Lady, some things you're better off not knowing. Right now, you need to get us 50 million dollars and bring it here. Otherwise, we're tearing the ticket."
Fifty million? Clary knew right then they'd been played.
She came from a single-parent home with modest means. Her UCLA tuition was funded by loans. Fifty million? She couldn't even scrape together a million in cash.
"So you're not with the Vampire Council?" she asked.
Realizing the situation, Clary's nerves settled.
Buzzcut, growing agitated at her unfamiliar terms, aimed his gun at her.
"Are you deaf? We said get the money!"
Black-Haired Sister pushed his arm down.
"Everyone, calm down! We're here to make money, not kill people. Killing her gets us nothing."
Her words cooled Buzzcut and Blonde's tempers.
Glasses spoke up next.
"She's right. No need to make this messy. Plus, it's late—getting 50 million in untraceable cash now would be tough. Lady, go home. Get the 50 million ready, and we'll contact you again."
But Clary didn't budge. She looked at the six kidnappers with a mix of frustration and pity.
"I think you've been scammed. I don't have 50 million dollars."