Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy (7 page)

I blinked. Okay, there were lots of
things that could put a guy behind bars. And Dan didn’t strike me
as the kind of guy who would knock over a liquor store or beat on
his wife and kids. Definitely a white-collar offender.

“Can I ask what were you doing
there?”

“I killed a man.”

His statement was too bald to be a lie.
He looked at me, and I fought a shudder. Dan a killer? But he’d
done nothing to make me feel endangered.

Self-defense? Involuntary manslaughter?
Had to be.

“You’re not a murderer.” My firm tone
buoyed me.

“Actually I am.” The darkness in his
eyes overwhelmed him, and I saw pain, deeper than any I’d ever
known, flood his face. “My business got into trouble, and the IRS
agent in charge of my case was looking to shut me down. I would
have lost everything. My family would have been out on the street.
When the agent came and started up with the questions and warnings,
then offered to look away for a bunch of money I didn’t have, I
snapped.”

“Just like that?” My voice sounded
small and hurt. My fantasy Marlboro Man, all studly and strong and
beyond reproach was just that: a fantasy.

Dan snorted. “I’d never even gotten so
much as a speeding ticket before in my life. Can you
imagine?”

“Wow.”

He studied my face and nodded, as if
confirming something to himself. “Not much to say about it, is
there?” He drew himself up. “It was a horrible thing I did,
something I’ve never forgiven myself for. I went to the police and
turned myself in that very night, told them where to find the body.
I would have done anything to take it back.”

I licked my lips, unsure how to treat
Dan now after his stunning confession. “Have you ever run into him
down here? The man you killed?”

Dan shook his head. “He either haunts
some other place or didn’t become like us. Sometimes I wish he’d
stuck around just so he could kick my ass.”

We endured several moments of awkward
silence. I didn’t know what to say to Dan. He’d killed
somebody.

Okay, the agent had tried to blackmail
him. Threatened to take away his livelihood. Tried to ruin
him.

But Dan had done even worse, had ended
the man’s life.

On the other hand, my Marlboro Man had
been so nice to me, taken care of me when I was lost and
scared.

But he’d killed somebody.

As my interior debate raged, Dan
shuffled. “It’s getting late. We should get over to the King George
Hotel.”

I was grateful for a change in subject.
I so didn’t want to think about Dan being a murderer. “The King
George is here?”

“It’s where all the important stuff
happens for paras. That’s where Tristan holds court, so to
speak.”

He tucked my arm into his, and I had to
fight to keep myself from pulling away. Dan would never hurt me. To
cover my sudden stab of fear I said, “The King George was by the
waterfront. That’s going to be a bit of a walk.”

“Teleporting is faster.”

“
Like how you brought me
from the woods to the library. And how Tristan left us.” Could I do
that, I wondered?

Dan relaxed a little now that we
weren’t discussing his past. “Would you like a lesson? You know the
library now, so we can jump there first. Then I’ll take you to the
hotel.”

“Okay.” A rush of anticipation made me
smile. How cool to just zap wherever you wanted whenever you
wanted. I was psyched for this.

“I’m going to hold tight to you. That
way if you go off course, you’ll take me with you.” He brushed a
lock of my hair from my forehead, and instead of thinking of him
taking another man’s life, I thought of him taking me so
deliciously in the library.

Well, he did say the agent threatened
his family. Who wouldn’t lose it just a little with that kind of
pressure?

Murder is not ‘losing it just a
little’.

Dan was still talking, and I shut down
my internal argument. He said, “We can’t be misplacing our one and
only witness to the Ripper, so don’t let go of me. Tristan will
have my head.”

I snuggled close to him. Tristan
trusted Dan. He didn’t strike me as a man who chose his associates
without care. I’d have to ask him about Dan’s
conviction.

Then again, reports estimated at least
ninety percent of all vampires had killed someone at some point in
their undeaths. No one knew for sure, because the vampires
obviously weren’t going to admit to it. I wondered how many had
died at Tristan’s fangs, whether by design or accident.

How do I know Tristan isn’t the
Ripper?

Talk about your unwelcome thoughts. Oh
boy, maybe I needed to get new friends on this side of death. But
I’d always considered myself a good judge of character, and neither
Dan nor Tristan rang any alarm bells. Wouldn’t I know it somehow if
Tristan was indeed the monster who’d murdered me?

Dan was waiting for me, and I put
thoughts of killers aside. “What do I do?”

“Think hard about the library. Remember
how it looks, smells, and feels to be there.”

“Okay.” I thought about the library,
its musty old book smell and the underlying odor of smoke. I
thought about how hard the table had been beneath me while Dan took
me. How muscular and exciting his body was, how bad I had wanted it
from the moment we’d met in the woods. He’d been my strong and true
Marlboro Man, saving me from those woods where my body lay on the
straw-covered ground, bloated and bloodless.

Dan said, “When you have your location,
reach for it with your mind, and make yourself go there in your
head.”

I ‘reached’, still thinking about how
he’d smiled so gently, held me so carefully, calmed my fears when
he’d found me. Could a good man commit murder? Was that a
possibility?

The street of old Fulton Falls and the
crumbling remnants of the town blurred around me, and I felt a rush
of elation. I was doing it! I was teleporting us to the library,
just like a pro.

The blurring froze in place, and
reddish-gold light replaced it in tossed can of paint splashing.
The space around us solidified, and my excitement plunged into
horror.

The sun was setting behind perfectly
lined up trees. We were back in the woods where my body had been
dumped. Crime scene techs worked like ants around the
place.

“Aw, heck no!” I wrung my hands, the
motion yanking me free of Dan.

His arms went around me in an instant.
“Calm down. It can take awhile to get the hang of this.”

I barely heard him. I wasn’t crying,
but I was darn close. “Not here! I don’t want to be
here!”

“It’s okay, baby girl. We’re
going.”

With a slight tug, the woods blurred
away.

Chapter Four

I struggled to not cry as we
materialized in a sumptuous wonderland of grace and
beauty.

Okay, so it was just a hotel lobby. But
what a lobby! The tears froze in my eyes, and then beat a hasty
retreat as I goggled at the splendor around me. A grand gleaming
white marble staircase lifted to the second floor like the
proverbial stairway to heaven. Burgundy and gold wallpaper covered
the walls, the floors were patterned tile, and a chandelier three
times my size hung overhead. Rich fabrics upholstered the chairs
and chaise lounges, trimmed with intricately carved wood.
Hand-woven oriental rugs scattered among the seating areas. A large
painting of a hunting scene hung over the giant fireplace from
which golden flames crackled.

It even smelled rich. Cigar and pipe
smoke overlaid expensive perfumes and colognes. Intricate bouquets
of exotic flowers decorated every surface, adding their heavy
scents to the olfactory potpourri.

I heard the far-off sounds of a
Dixieland band, playing elsewhere in the hotel. The musicians
managed to sound both jubilant and suppressed at once. I imagined
were I to enter the room where they played, I would still be able
to hear conversation easily. Not bopping a little to the
lighthearted beat was impossible.

All around me people of various eras
glided past. Women in Victorian dress and high-plumed hats laughed
with short-skirted flappers. Men in top hats and tails shook hands
with Confederate officers in dress uniform. That sight bemused me;
the King George Hotel had been built after the Civil
War.

Dan watched me as I got my first look
at the legendary hotel. “Beautiful, isn’t it? This is the best part
of our little netherworld.”

“No wonder they never tried to rebuild
it,” I whispered in awe. “It’s a palace. And look at the people
from all different times. Wow, I want that dress.” I checked out a
flapper clad in a gold dress. The fringe on it danced with her
every move.

Dan chuckled. “Don’t look now, but
you’re wearing it. It looks good on you.”

I looked down and squealed with
delight. I wore the dress all right. It molded nicely to my body.
The intricately stitched fabric was soft as butter against my skin.
“Awesome! But I hate the shoes and it’s a terrible faux pas to wear
the same thing as another woman. Maybe in blue with some
beading?”

The dress suddenly shaded a deep indigo
with matching beads in a swirl pattern across my chest. Matching
stiletto heels replaced the clunky 1920’s shoes, showing my thighs
and calves to advantage in the short skirt.

I was pleased to see Dan drink in my
image like a man dying of thirst. “Very nice,” he said in a husky
voice. “You should have been a designer. I especially like the
shoes.”

I twirled for him, sending the fringe
swishing through the air. “I’m a clothes horse. You should see my
closet at home.”

A masculine voice called. “Mr. Saling,
we still have a few rooms left for the night if you and your
companion are interested?”

I stopped my little girl show-off to
look at the clerk standing behind the tall mahogany desk at the far
end of the room. His dark hair was greased back from a middle part,
his long mustache waxed to points. He smiled at me and nodded his
head.

Dan crooked an eyebrow at me as he
ushered me towards the clerk with a hand in the small of my back.
“What do you think, Brandilynn? We still have an hour or so before
the vampires rise.”

“I want to see everything.” I bubbled
with delight to know being dead wasn’t all misery.

Dan smiled and held out his hand to the
clerk. “Your nicest left available then, Charles.”

Charles handed him a gold key. “Room
436. Champagne, perhaps a small meal?”

“We eat here?” I hadn’t felt hungry at
all and was surprised to think food might be a need.

“You can indulge in the illusion,
though alcohol won’t get you drunk and hunger is never an issue.”
Dan exchanged a grin with Charles, no doubt amused at my happy
surprise. “Give us the works, would you Charles?”

“Splendid, Mr. Saling. I’ll have
everything sent right up.”

Dan led me to the grand staircase where
a tuxedoed man and a woman in a long sequined gown descended. They
nodded at us.

Dan said, “Except for the lobby, most
of the ground floor is for official para business. Once in awhile,
a big party is thrown in the ballroom.”

We mounted the stairs and climbed to
the second floor landing. I paused to look down at the grand lobby
below before continuing up the next, smaller flight of stairs. The
chandelier glowed like a dream on the lush scene. I couldn’t help
the smile that threatened to break my face in two. Cinderella’s
first glimpse of the Prince’s castle as she ventured into the ball
couldn’t have been more breathtaking. I suddenly had the notion my
parents, with their expensive homes and cars, were only pretenders
to society.

* * * *

Sconces emitting golden glows lit our
way down the fourth floor hallway. As we passed each closed door,
muttered conversations, laughter, and the unmistakable sounds of
lovemaking drifted out to greet us. It sounded more like a bordello
than a fine hotel. High-pitched screams of completion made me grin
at Dan.

“My goodness. Somebody’s certainly
enjoying herself.”

“It sounds like it, doesn’t it?” Dan
chuckled.

We passed the door to another room from
which more elated cries escaped.

“In there too. What are these,
honeymoon suites?”

“We told you. Besides having sex,
there’s not much else to do when you’re dead. Unless Tristan has
you running a bunch of errands.” Dan considered me a moment before
adding, “It feels like night has fallen. You think this is loud,
you should hear the first floor, where the hotel’s old rooms still
stand. That’s where the vampires feed on their blood
donors.”

My amusement fled. “I’ve never
understood the attraction of being fed on like a leech.”

“It’s quite arousing, from my
understanding. For both vampire and donor. Fresh from the source is
always preferred, though most vampires get along on the packaged
stuff.”

“Not enough bleeders to go around,
huh?” I shuddered. “At least most of us have good
sense.”