Bad Mouth

Bad Mouth

Angela McCallister

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Angela McCallister. All rights reserved, including the right to
reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding
subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Edited by Liz Pelletier

Cover design by Fiona Jayde

Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-805-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition May 2013

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners
of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: INSERT TRADEMARKED NAMES.

For J, our gifted progeny, and our family, both by genetics and by choice, for never
batting an eyelash or hiding a smirk. Love you. And for those with whom I served on
the USS Benfold (2008-2011) for guiding me back to what I love. Fair winds and following
seas, my friends.

Chapter One

“It’s a monstrosity.”

Valerie Craig agreed with her companion’s sentiment wholeheartedly, not exactly thrilled
about entering the remote mansion in front of them. She spared Graham a quick smile
despite the falling sensation in her stomach.

“You say that every time we come here,” she said.

She felt clammy and wilted like a cold, half-cooked noodle. The entire western half
of Washington State often wore gloomy skies like a skin, but today the humidity exceeded
Val’s expectations. Graham didn’t look disheveled in the slightest, each strand of
his thick brown hair perfectly aligned as usual and nary a wrinkle in his crisp charcoal
slacks and vanilla button-up. He could have been a cover model. Amazing. Four dismal
hours out of Seattle along winding roads into the Middle-of-Nowhere Mountains and
he looked as fresh as the minute they’d left the office.

Val angled the rearview mirror toward where she sat in the passenger’s seat of Graham’s
Prius and took a last-minute peek at her reflection. She grimaced, brushing the smudges
under her eyes with her fingertip. Even her makeup sagged under the humidity and perspiration
coating her skin.

“Stop, V. You look beautiful.”

“Eye of the beholder, Graham. You’re too nice to be honest.”

No one in their right mind would call her once wavy-golden tresses—that now hung in
ropy tendrils—beautiful. Sustaining an impeccable appearance was easier for Graham.
He bordered on pretty, with the face of an angel that hosted long, dark lashes, a
sculpted nose, and high cheekbones with a slightly cherubic roundness to them. He
hadn’t broken a sweat once during the humid drive. She wasn’t sure Graham
could
sweat.

Val took another minute to blot at her eyeliner and renew her lip gloss, but she was
only stalling. Then again, the vampires they were calling on were nothing if not fastidiously
snobbish, thus necessitating the attention to her makeup meltdown.

Steeling herself, she stepped out into the misting rain and peered up at the three
stories that contained the source of her dread. As dismal as the clouds, the mansion
towered over them like a weathered sentinel. Slate-gray stone ended in jagged spires
at the top of each corner, the sharp angles stabbing into the sky. Occasionally, a
sliver of stained glass interrupted the structure’s flat planes, but aside from the
slivers and a few balconies, the place was windowless. It made sense, considering
who lived—or rather existed—within.

They were about to enter an upscale coffin.

Graham nudged her with his elbow as he reached her side. “Come on, Val. Buck up. It’s
just a building.”

“It’s not the building I’m having issues with.” What awaited them inside was worse.
Much worse. She shook her head. “I’m fine, Graham. You know I always get a case of
nerves before I go in. It’ll settle.”

“You think they’ll blow us off?”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Her shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “But we’ve got a job
to do. We have to give them a chance to fix the problem before we can consider taking
drastic measures with them.”

“I can’t believe I get to come in this time. I’m about to meet royalty face-to-face.”
The touch of awe in his voice earned him a scowl. As one of very few who knew of her
antipathy for vampires, he should’ve had the courtesy to put a leash on his excitement.
Instead, he acted like an eager groupie.

“You’ve talked to them before.” Val tried to keep the irritation from her voice. “Besides,
royalty and politicians mean the same to me. Overindulged, overpaid, overglorified,
and any other over-word you want to add.”

With a sharp tug on his sleeve, she steered him along the cobbled, oval drive toward
the dramatic steps leading to the entry.

“How many times have you seen them in person?” He only half listened for her answer
as his gaze roamed the estate, his interest caught by the topiaries lining the driveway.
She snorted indelicately.

“Too many to count. They’re creepy. Just be prepared and show no fear or they’ll take
it as weakness. They’ll tread all over you.” She took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. Coming to the mansion in person was akin to walking a minefield. She always
expected a blast if she made the wrong move. “All right. Let’s go in.”

Val schooled her expression into a professional mask as they ascended steps wide enough
to park a car on and reached the titanic double doors. Graham ducked in front of her
and tapped the wrought iron knocker against the slab of blackened timber. He was enjoying
this entirely too much. She pinched him in the side. His startled grunt told her she
might have pinched a little too hard.

Without a hint of squeak, the door swung wide to reveal a slender pole of a man with
slightly sunken cheeks, wispy white hair, and a gray undertone to his skin.
A walking corpse
. The upper-caste vampires,
Immortalis Dominorum
, and their vampire followers, the
Immortalis Legio
, were always well fed, giving them an unnaturally healthy glow. This man had to be
a human subjugate not yet worthy of transformation.

Some subjugates were never found worthy and were left to waste away, waiting for an
everlasting reward that would never transpire. Hardly fair, considering these desperate
humans were approved for transformation by the
Dominorum
only to discover their probationary period often ended in death—which is exactly why
she and Graham had come to the mansion.

She’d fought for more than two years to restrict or eradicate transformation altogether,
and Congress had appointed her vice director of a small team of Vampire Liaisons.
That simple title came with a whopping perk of legislative influence she had every
intention of using, hopefully without anyone at the VLO figuring out her intentions.

Wordlessly, the man led them through a narrow entry into a grand foyer. A high dome
rose a dizzying thirty feet above their heads. Dual stairways curved along the walls
on each side, climbing to a lofty, second-level landing. Most of the guest rooms were
on that floor. They were opulent. She’d taken the full tour upon her first arrival
over a year before, but Graham gawked openly at the luxurious black marble floors,
glossy mahogany railing, Tiffany crystal chandeliers, and all the other glaring displays
of decadence along the way. Personally, she found it frigid. The textures and colors
exuded sterility and the chill in the air gave her goose bumps. It even
smelled
cold.

“Psst,” she whispered. “At least close your mouth and quit drooling.”

He flashed a smile. “It’s gorgeous.”

“A monstrosity, you said.”

“Changed my mind.”

They passed through the arched entry under the landing and stopped in a sitting room
decorated in gaudy black and deep crimson. Gold accents around the room reminded her
how grossly rich, and therefore powerful, the oldest
Immortalis
were. Massive portraits lined the walls, each highlighted by a lit sconce beneath
its heavy frame. The miniscule lights casting shadows around the portrait edges and
the stark darkness of the walls didn’t give her impression of menace any relief.

The gaunt man gestured toward one of the long settees and left the room. His behavior
didn’t seem strange considering what he was. In fact, he fit right in. With each encounter
of a subjugate, she wondered why they’d chosen to become a vampire. It wasn’t like
vampires were automatically rich and powerful and sexy. Humans came out of the transformation,
if they survived, much the same as they went in. What could make anyone wish for that
excruciating, morbid transformation?

Especially her ex-husband, Will.

“What’s wrong?” Graham stroked a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, his touch
tender. “You seem far away.”

“Sorry.” She perched at the edge of the couch, her fingers smoothing over the velvety
crimson upholstery.

Graham’s lips thinned into a disapproving line. “Don’t think about him.”

“I can’t help it. He’s partly why we’re here.”

“He’s not the man you married and not the man I befriended. That man no longer exists.
May as well think of him as someone else.”

“You’re right.” She took his hand and pulled him to the seat next to her. “I’m glad
you’re here.”

She evaded his attempt at eye contact. He’d developed feelings beyond friendship for
her, but it was a one-way street. She could never look at him without seeing her ex-husband’s
best friend. And the man who’d revealed Will’s betrayals. All of them.

When Graham opened his mouth to speak, she silenced him with a swift jerk of her head.
They weren’t alone. Two figures moved toward them, their motion liquid. Both vampires
appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties, but Val knew the couple to
be much older.

The woman’s hair tumbled in lustrous auburn waves past her waist, her delicate face
like beauty incarnate, with creamy smooth skin and pouty lips. Her body, elegantly
displayed in a clingy, floor-length gown of soft teal, was lean and sleek with generous,
perky breasts. It was false advertising. Vampirism didn’t get her those looks. Evangeline
had been born physically perfect—and
human
. Just as the male, Olen, had been.

Olen, his spine straight and his shoulders back, wore an autocratic air with apparent
ease. Though barely half a foot taller than Val’s five-foot-seven inches, he seemed
to peer several feet down his straight nose at her. Fine lines graced the corners
of his eyes, although she’d never seen the vampire smile. His black hair had grayed
prematurely at his temples before he’d turned.

Olen’s impact came from his eyes. Their dark red coloring didn’t impede the keen edge
of intelligence that hit like armor-piercing bullets. She felt as if he could see
into her soul. He tipped his head slightly toward her, sending a stab of ice down
her spine.

Graham, the sociable one, normally would have been the first to extend a greeting,
but he appeared struck dumb. She stood to address their hosts.

“Olen
Rex
,
Domina
Evangeline,” she said. “Thank you for seeing us. This is my associate, Graham Fischer.
Graham joined the Vampire Liaison Office two months ago. He has prior experience working
with the governor as an attorney and private consultant.”

“I recall we’ve spoken several times. Lovely to meet you in person, Mr. Fischer.”
Evangeline’s voice swathed his name in a sexy rasp. “Welcome.”

The vamp’s ruby-eyed gaze fixed on Graham with too much interest for Val’s comfort.
Evangeline’s sensuality cranked to high volume reduced her friend to a giant walking
gland that would end up being useless to their cause. Perhaps that was the vampire’s
intent. If he kept this up, she’d have to neuter him before he could come back again.

Evangeline’s red lips curved into a knowing smirk. The vampire most likely smelled
Graham’s physical arousal, and Val wanted to jettison his traitorous body back to
Seattle at Mach ten speed.

“What brings you to us in such dreadful weather?” Olen asked.

Of course he knew what brought her, but he liked to play games. After nearly two years,
the game had become tiresome.

Val cut straight to the point. “There’s been a rash of bloodings.”

If the thought of depraved vampires rampantly sucking humans dry caused the vampires
alarm, they hid it well.

Heartless.
She caught her tongue between her teeth, fighting the bitter words aching to get
loose. When they didn’t respond, she added, “And a sharp increase in derangements
over the last two months.”

Deranged transformations were illegal, even among the
Immortalis Legio
, commonly known as the
Legion
. No self-respecting vampire would lower themselves to transform a human not approved
by the
Dominorum
. A sudden increase could only mean the
Dominorum
hadn’t been enforcing the law and capturing the greedy vampires as they were supposed
to.

“Unfortunate,” Olen replied. For all the concern he showed, he could have been talking
about the Seahawks game last weekend. “We make every effort to curb unruly Legion
citizens and prevent harm to humans. Are you certain the bloodings are authentic?”

Val’s eyes widened, shock and fury vying for domination. “Are you implying the VLO
can’t tell the difference between a blooding and a copycat?”

“Certainly not,” Evangeline cut in, still smiling. Val hated that smile. Only a sociopath
could sport that cat-with-warm-milk smile when they were talking about murder. “We
only want to avoid pointing fingers at innocent citizens.”

There was nothing innocent about vampires. They shouldn’t even exist, although Val
could never utter those words publicly and expect to keep her liaison position.

“No one wants to make false accusations,” Graham said, “but only a vampire could have
caused these deaths.”

Ah, he speaks
.

“So you come to us expecting the
Dominorum
to solve your homicide cases for you?” Olen arched a haughty brow.

“This problem isn’t ours to solve alone, Olen.” Val concentrated on smoothing the
emotion from her face. There was no way in hell she’d let him know he was getting
to her. “They were perpetrated by some of yours.”

“Or by a rogue. The Legion follows the dictates of the
Dominorum
.” Olen’s lips settled into a contemptuous smirk. If he were to acknowledge one of
the Legion vampires as suspect, it would be a step closer to admitting transformation
was a problem. If all transformations became illegal, the
Immortalis
would lose considerable power over human society. Transformations were their biggest
commodity.