Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy (12 page)

I had no doubt the Judge was a monster.
His visage of passing humanity only underscored the pitiless
predator that lurked beneath.

Besides the werepanther, Patricia and
Tristan were the only ones in the room that didn’t shrink from his
approach. Her upper lip slightly curled, Patricia even dared to
rebuke him. “You’re late.”

The Judge turned frigid, flat eyes on
her, eyes that would have made anyone else flinch. To one side, the
werepanther mounted the stage and stood near Patricia and Tristan.
He gripped one wrist in the opposite hand with a pose of casual
watchfulness. Definitely a bodyguard. Patricia’s? Lucky
girl.

The Judge’s voice surprised me with its
melodious lilt. Had I closed my eyes to shut out his appearance,
his respectful answer in that lovely voice would have beguiled. “I
have been following some leads on the killer.” Then his tone
hardened, and his cold, dead fish eyes settled on me. “I hear you
found the last victim but her memory has been inconveniently
lacking. Is the strumpet present?”

My mouth dropped open at the terror his
stare invoked. I hoped Isabella’s bladder control wasn’t dependent
on me, because he scared me that bad. Even the most desperate blood
groupie wouldn’t feed this ogre. Evil intent radiated off him in
waves.

Perhaps my fear showed, because
Augustus sidled up to me, putting his golden lion’s body between me
and the Judge. Uncaring that it might disrespectful to the ancient
creature, I slid my arms around his white-feathered neck, clutching
him like the world’s most unlikely teddy bear. For a wonder, my
grip didn’t slide through his body though the griffin was a live
entity. Perhaps he existed on both planes? He’d seen Dan, after
all.

The griffin’s warmth steadied me, and I
considered reminding the Judge of his manners for all of a second.
Patricia’s slight head shake wasn’t necessary. No way I’d open my
mouth to sass this brute.

Tristan’s tone gently rebuked the Judge
for me. “Brandilynn is traumatized. Don’t let your prejudice
against her line of work upset her any worse.”

Patricia gave me a grin, and I saw she
enjoyed baiting the elder vampire. I began to like Tristan’s sister
despite myself. “You must excuse the Judge’s bad manners,
Brandilynn. He is from a time when women were wrongly treated like
property instead of equals.”

Tristan shot her a warning glance
before smoothly redirecting the conversation. “What are these leads
you were following, my friend?”

To my relief, the Judge turned his gaze
from me. “They were nothing, but thoroughness will eventually lead
us to the executioner.” Then he looked at me again, and I squeezed
Augustus’ neck some more. It was a wonder the poor thing didn’t
choke.

“You have no memory at all?” the Judge
asked.

“None.” I wondered how someone so
undeniably frightening could have such an enthralling voice. What a
waste. It would have been more fitting for Augustus to possess
it.

The ancient monster looked at me, as
much as he could see of me hiding behind the griffin. “So the
killer was just another client for you. Nothing remarkable about
him?” He came closer, and I fought the urge to duck behind
Augustus.

“I don’t do vampires. He wouldn’t have
been a regular client.”

The Judge sneered at me, and his long,
yellowed fangs were very much in evidence. God, I wished Isabella
would take over her body so I could get the heck out of here. “A
slut with standards. What a refreshing piece of vermin. In my day
you would have been whipped until the skin hung from your flesh in
tatters.” His bloodless white tongue, looking like a slimy slug,
ran over his thin lips. “Perhaps such methods would help you
recover your memories. They would at least cleanse your diseased
soul a little.”

A small spark of my self-esteem lit,
and though my voice came out weak I still managed to say, “Yeah,
well I’m sure you think I got what I deserved. Death is a pretty
good punishment, isn’t it?”

He grinned, and that’s when I felt
tears forming in my eyes. “It’s a start.”

Tristan growled, “Enough, Judge. You
will keep your opinions to yourself.”

The elder vampire’s eyes turned
completely black for an instant, but he bowed his head in
acquiescence. “As you wish, Tristan. But perhaps when coddling
fails to yield results, you will concede some creatures respond
better to more forceful means.”

I gasped when Tristan flashed fangs at
him. “She’s the victim. I won’t have her hurt any worse than she’s
already endured.” He brought his sudden burst of anger under
control with effort. “Continue working on finding the killer. Lana
will give you the location they found the body.”

The Judge bowed again. He showed no
temper to Tristan at all this time, making me wonder how he’d
managed to be lassoed by a vampire two hundred years his
junior.

Tristan stepped down, taking my arm.
“Come, Brandilynn. I think you’ve had enough for
tonight.”

I knew he had to feel me trembling as
he guided me out of the ballroom.

When we reached the hall, the dual
realities of the King George’s past and present reasserted
themselves. It gave me a sense of vertigo, and I staggered against
the vampire at my side. Tristan steadied me, one arm wrapping
around my waist, the other holding my upper arm.

“My apologies for the Judge,” he
murmured, his honeyed voice soothing despite the coldness behind
it. “He is not pleasant to women but his ability to get to the
truth is unmatched.”

I concentrated on putting one foot in
front of the other. “I’d rather not speak to him again if it’s all
the same to you. Just because I’ve done unsavory things doesn’t
mean my feelings don’t get hurt.”

Tristan’s hand tightened on my arm.
“Yes, well if sex was a crime, the Judge would be the only one not
a million times convicted. He has the most self-control of our
kind. Vampires’ hungers usually run the gamut.”

“Sex and blood, huh?” I managed not to
shudder. Dan had warned me, after all.

The animal growl that preceded his next
words drew the shudder out of me after all. “Too bad I can’t show
you, but it would hardly be fair to Isabella to use her body for
such things. I’d enjoy sharing with you the pleasures of being
consumed in all ways possible.”

I stiffened, and Isabella’s heart
quickened. “The attraction is one-sided, I’m afraid. You’re fun as
a ghost, but too different as a vampire for me to consider giving
myself that way.”

Tristan chuckled, as if he knew better.
“You fear me in this guise, do you? It’s that spark of terror that
makes blood sharing so intense. It’s the ultimate submission,
Brandilynn.”

I wanted to run, but I feared he might
chase me. “You’re freaking me out, Tristan.”

“Of course I am. Hunger makes a man a
little more on edge, and I. Am. Always. Hungry.” He said that last
with emphasis, low in my ear.

Before my terror could spike higher, I
felt shoved within the body I occupied. I grunted at the force and
staggered, falling against Tristan who kept me upright. “Whoa,
what’s happening?”

“Isabella’s body is pushing you out.
Once you’re evicted, I won’t be able to see or hear you until I’m
dead again.” We reached the lobby, and he stopped us, turning me so
that I had to do what I’d been avoiding in the hall — face him.
Tristan’s dark eyes held me like a fly trapped in a spider’s web.
“Try hard in the meantime to remember who killed you. Did Dan leave
already?”

My voice sounded far away to me. “Yes
he—” Another hard shove jerked my gaze from Tristan’s. “Oh! This
isn’t fun,” I griped. “At least I don’t need an exorcist to get out
of here.”

He quirked a smile. “No, you’ve not
possessed Isabella. You’re just channeling through her.”

“There’s a difference? Ow!”

A dull pain reverberated through me,
and I went tumbling to the floor despite Tristan’s support. I
looked up to find myself at his and Isabella’s feet. I was
free.

“Jeez, there’s gotta be a better way to
do this stuff,” I said, picking myself up off the floor.

Two nearby Confederate soldiers gave me
gracious hands up. “Clothes, miss,” one said, pointing out I’d
burst from my host naked.

“Aw man!” I quickly covered myself in a
very concealing kimono, white silk with delicate birds in the
design. I’d had my eye on such a piece on a designer’s webpage.
“Thanks, gentlemen,” I mumbled, blushing.

With bright appreciative grins, they
bowed and stepped away.

Behind me Tristan asked, “Isabella, are
you all right?”

I turned to see her sway slightly.
“Just a little dizzy. Did it go okay?”

“You were wonderful as always.” He
turned to a werehog I hadn’t noticed following us out of the
ballroom. Too creeped out by Tristan’s vampiric urges, I guess.
“Eddie, would you see Isabella safely to the surface and her
car?”

Eddie the werehog snuffled through his
snout. “Yes sir.” He escorted Isabella to the grand entrance doors
and Tristan turned and hurried back towards the ballroom, leaving
me standing by myself.

“So that’s it for me?” No answer. I was
invisible and silent to Tristan now, who had already made it
halfway down the hall. “Great. How am I supposed to get back to the
library?”

Well, I could walk. It would be quite a
haul, and though I wasn’t physically tired, a deep weariness
consumed me. I didn’t want to walk. “No ghost cabs, I
suppose.”

I could teleport. I swallowed. I so
didn’t want to end up in the woods again. Maybe I should walk after
all. But no, I didn’t shrink from challenges. I faced them head
on.

Think about the library, not the woods.
Hold the library in your thoughts, hold it hard.

I mumbled out loud, not caring if
anyone heard me talking to myself. “Okay, library, library,
library, ruby slippers take me there.” I tapped my now-red sequined
shoes. “Cause Auntie Em, there’s no place like home.”

The richly appointed ghost of the King
George disappeared in a smear of gold and red.

Chapter Six

My surroundings stabilized when I got
to my destination. I groaned as I looked around the dimly lit
apartment I’d called home.

“I’m never going to get the hang of
this.”

I stood in the living room, which
opened into the dining room and kitchen. The light over the stove
burned, casting low illumination in the space I no longer
inhabited. It looked like all my stuff was still present and
accounted for except for my laptop, which always sat on the
glass-topped coffee table. The police must have taken it, hoping to
find some clue as to who had killed me.

I drifted through the apartment,
looking at it as one might a museum tableau. 21st Century Life:
Call Girl Interrupted the plaque might read. I inhaled the flowery
aroma of the scented candles I preferred. With a dispassionate eye
I took in the nice furniture I’d collected, the newspaper on the
sofa turned to the crossword puzzle I’d never finish. The last
issue of Business Week waited to be read.

My Keurig coffee maker stood ready to
brew a cup of my favorite flavor, Wild Mountain Blueberry. Through
the darkened doorway of one of the two bedrooms, I spied the dull
gleam of metal from the treadmill I’d logged hundreds of miles
on.

I’d decked out my space to rival the
model apartment the facility showed to prospective renters. If the
manager had any sense, she’d leave these rooms intact for display.
Except for the clothes in my closet, the toiletries in the bathroom
and the half-done crossword puzzle, anyone might have lived here.
I’d injected no personality to intrude on the senses. Tasteful
furniture. Stylish accents. No pictures.

No life.

Had my existence been so empty? I’d
seen to it my family disowned me, freeing myself forever from their
control. I’d had regular clients who were smart, made good
conversation, and sated carnal desires to various degrees of
satisfaction. But no close friends. No real boyfriend, not since
the debacle of my college romance. No girlfriends to meet for lunch
and gossip. I’d kept everyone at arm’s length, determined to forge
my own path and unwilling to trust others to let me do
so.

Looking at the apartment I’d called
home for five years, I felt my aloneness as I never had before. An
outsider might believe it had been occupied by an empty shell, an
automaton with no soul. I’d left no one behind to mourn me. I might
as well have never existed as far as the living world was
concerned.

Tears prickled my eyes, and I rubbed
them away resolutely. I’d screwed up, and there were no do-overs.
All I could do at this point was pick up the pieces and start
fresh. Maybe do better with afterlife than I had with
life.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, no
thinking of anything but the library this time. Library, library,
library.” I fixed the main room of the Fulton Falls library in my
mind, smelled the smoky mustiness, felt the hardness of the table
beneath my naked body where Dan and Tristan had taken me so
delightfully.