Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 (2 page)

Ford County Commissioner Tristan Keith,
alive back when the King George originally stood, has set about
restoring the still intact, though badly damaged, ground floor of
the grand old hotel. He works out of here during the night, along
with a staff of vampires, shapeshifters, gargoyles and a few
supernaturally gifted humans like Lana and Taylor. Most people
don’t know about this place. Before I died, I had no idea there was
a town beneath the town. Now it’s home to me and so many of the
dead.

I looked around the old ballroom, which
was now more office space than a party place. Tristan and
Patricia’s executive desks sat up on the bandstand. Large
chandeliers hung overhead. The parquet wood floor gleamed. Burgundy
wallpaper with gold designs dressed the walls. It was a fancy
business center for the three rows of utilitarian desks that
marched across the room, manned by Tristan’s staff. Paras of every
type punched commands onto computer keyboards, answered ringing
phones, and traded gossip over cups of coffee. Behind me, a giant
dry erase board hung on the wall, every spare inch covered with
scribbled notations of zoning issues, budget juggling to provide
the local police with badly needed new patrol cars, and the bitter
fight between the county and the city about the new jail’s
location. The city wanted it near the courthouses for security’s
sake, which made sense, but that would put it right on the scenic
waterfront near the parks and tourist-friendly downtown, a huge
no-no for most of Fulton Falls’ residents and the county
commission.

The ballroom, or Para Central as I call
it, smelled of warm fur and dry reptilian scales. Underneath that
was the hint of smoke from the long-ago fire, which was now
familiar enough to me to be comforting.

All that made little impact on me right
now, because the first nice thing I saw was Gerald leaning against
Patricia’s desk. He was her bodyguard and a very rare werepanther.
Body-builder thick with muscle, this man-beast was absolutely
gorgeous. An open denim vest displayed his dark mocha chest covered
with subtle black markings to advantage. The fangs that indented
his well-formed lower lip were gleaming white. Black-furred
triangular ears parted the tight cornrows of braids that hung down
his very broad back. Green-gold eyes glowed in the darkness of his
handsome face. Gerald was a feast of eye candy, and I was
gorging.

It was odd to see him not hovering over
Patricia. I couldn’t imagine anyone getting the best of her, but
being the sister of Fulton Fall’s head vampire certainly put her at
risk. She must have put her foot down hard for a girls’ night out
tonight. Gerald looked bored and a bit morose as he perched on the
edge of her desk, more like a puppy waiting for her return than a
deadly werepanther. I suspected he was sweet on his mistress, a
crying shame since she preferred to bat for the home
team.

My ruminations over this hot hunk of
heaven ended at the sight of Augustus heading towards me. My heart
leapt at his approach. He and witches are the only living creatures
I know of who can see me.

His voice was the sole unattractive
thing about him. A squawking shriek, he’ll never be a contestant on
American Idol. But his words were poetic once you figured out what
he was saying. Beaks don’t form words nearly as good as
lips.

What I heard him say was, “Belubbed
sabing grabes, bishun ub dordured byoodee.” What he actually
uttered in that shrill voice to greet me was “Beloved saving grace,
vision of tortured beauty.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck in a
heartfelt embrace as I tried to interpret his words. As usual, I
wasn’t quite sure how much was compliment and how much was
prophecy. Augustus is an oracle and usually talks in riddles. I
debated how to take his characterization of me as a ‘tortured
beauty’. Griffins, half-lion and half-eagle, are hard to understand
even when you get past their inability to pronounce letters like V
and F.

A majestic creature, standing on all
fours he still comes up to my chin. I spoke into the softness of
the feathers that covered his eagle’s head. “Hi, Augustus. Having a
good night?”

His rigid beak allowed no smile, but I
sensed contentment from him just the same. “The cool air was swift
against face and wing. I am invigorated by the briskness of harvest
time.”

“You’ve been flying. I wish I could fly
too. You make it sound so wonderful.”

A cold, elegant voice flowed over my
ears, bringing a thrill of fear along with desire. “I take it
you’re talking to Brandilynn and not yourself, old
friend?”

I straightened and looked at my
boyfriend. Well, the vampire aspect of my boyfriend. I love Tristan
Keith with all my heart during the day when his body is dead and
he’s a plain old ghost. But when he’s a vampire, all sharp with
hunger, I’m a little freaked out.

Okay, I’m a lot freaked out. Vampires
are scary.

He’s gorgeous whether man or vamp.
Tristan has hair as black as night, cut short in an elegant 1920’s
‘do. Already handsome, the predatory aspect of his fanged self
lends dangerous charm to his well-formed features. If GQ ever
wanted to put a vampire on their cover, Tristan should be at the
top of the list. He dresses well in custom-made suits that flatter
his lean muscled frame. Tristan has never had to drink pouched or
bottled blood. The groupies line up for him.

A small, well-padded Hispanic woman
stood behind him. She looks like the best mom in the neighborhood,
the one whose house all the kids gather at for milk and cookies. I
thought she might be somewhere in her forties, but she’s got one of
those ageless faces where it’s hard to tell. She might have been
anywhere from 35 to 60. She radiates kindness.

She sat down in a leather chair in
front of his desk. “I will prepare myself.”

This was Isabella, my channel. I
sighed. I like Isabella, but I don’t like using her body. It’s
weird and uncomfortable. When I’m inside her, I see both the real
world and the spirit world, which can play heck on my equilibrium.
Fortunately, Para Central is the same in both realms. As long as we
didn’t go for a walk anywhere, I wouldn’t be too
off-kilter.

I watched her close her eyes. It didn’t
take long for her body to relax completely and the light lines in
her face to smooth out. She’s a pro at this. I went to her and sat
down on top, as if to give her my Christmas list. Instead of
landing on Isabella’s lap, I ended up inside her. The heaviness of
a corporeal body settled over me like a suffocating blanket. I felt
a twinge of her in the back of our shared mind, but she was very
quiet. When Isabella is channeling, she’s unaware of what’s going
on. Lucky her.

I opened her eyes and looked up at the
black-eyed vampire looming over me. “I’m here.”

He smiled, a little human warmth
creeping into his pale face. “How is your haunting of Sanderson
Cottage going?”

It was at his request that I’d been
giving Halloween thrills to tourists at his former employer’s home.
My payment for being all spooky was staving off boredom. Being dead
gives you a lot of time on your hands.

I told him, “It’s fun. Patricia liked
my dress. What’s up?”

“I need you to replace Dan for a little
while spying on the Beasts.”

Oh, this definitely sounded
interesting. One of Tristan’s campaign promises at the last
election was to clean up Fulton Falls’ crime problems, and the
Beasts Motorcycle Club was at the top of his list. Composed of
violent were-critters, the Beasts were suspected of everything from
blackmail to murder. As organized as any crime syndicate, the
Beasts had chapters all over North America, Asia, and Europe. Even
little ol’ Fulton Falls has a group of about three dozen getting up
to heaven knows what.

My other boyfriend, Dan Saling, had
been spying on the Beasts for weeks now on Tristan’s behalf. Dan is
like me, a full time ghost. As to why I have two boyfriends … well,
that’s a Brandilynn-inspired mess. Neither man is thrilled about
sharing me, but they’re putting up with it. For now.

First things first. Playing spy sounded
fun, especially since weres can’t see ghosts. No real danger there.
“Sure. What am I doing?”

“Just keep your ears and eyes out for
anything unsavory.”

“By unsavory, you mean
illegal?”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. His fists
clenched and opened, clenched and opened. Good heavens, what had
his dander up tonight? “The leader of the Beasts is very careful,
even among his own people. Only his closest lieutenants know
anything about what his exact undertakings involve. The majority of
the group is mainly concerned with collecting protection money,
beating up others, murder, the smaller time stuff.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Murder is
small time?”

He scowled. “For this group, I’m afraid
so. Gerald, will you fill Brandilynn in?”

I stared at Tristan. He was on edge
tonight, his usually cultured voice snapping words like
whips.

Before I could call him on it, tall,
dark and purrfect (hey, I never claimed to be funny) stepped
forward. As if the werepanther wasn’t sexy enough, Gerald’s deep
rolling voice sealed the deal. Cool and smooth, it was the kind of
voice you’d want to rub all over your naked body.

He smiled, his catman face wearing it
well. I realized I rarely saw this hired muscle smile. “Hi
Brandilynn.”

“Hi Gerald. You doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.” His ears twitched
this way and that, forever patrolling for trouble. His nose,
hinting at the triangular shape of the big cat he turned into on
occasion, flared as he tested the air, as if he tried to scent me
on Isabella’s body. “Here’s the lowdown on the Beasts. They’re
organized crime, pure and simple. Human trafficking, drug and arms
smuggling, contracted killings … you name it, they do it. They
swear loyalty to their organization above all else. Once a part of
the Beasts, no one leaves, not alive anyway.”

I couldn’t help myself, not even in
Isabella’s body. I batted my eyes a little and made her voice high,
light, and happy. Flirt should have been my middle name. “What a
lovely sounding bunch.”

He went down on one knee in front of
me, like he was going to propose. Of course he was only being
polite; he knows full well it’s hard for a spirit to move around in
a channel’s body. That’s why I stayed sitting, and he was doing me
the kindness of sinking his six feet plus frame down to where I
wasn’t breaking Isabella’s neck to look him in the face. But boy,
it made my heart go pitty-pat to have such a handsome man at my
feet.

Steady girl, I reminded myself. You’ve
already got one boyfriend too many, and Gerald is head over tail
about Patricia.

He eyed me seriously. “What you’re
going to see, it’s going to be plenty ugly. I want you to be
prepared. The Beasts’ women are all human and regarded as property
if not outright slaves. It’s nothing to the shifters to slap ‘em
around or make them do –” here he paused and took a deep breath,
“—acts of a personal nature in front of others.”

Okay. Message received. Eww and gross.
I don’t mind watching people put on a show, but it has to be
consensual. I had the feeling what Gerald described wasn’t always
that way.

Tristan stepped closer, his hand
briefly touching on Gerald’s shoulder. Dismissed, the werepanther
gave me another rare smile, rose, and went back to leaning
gorgeously on the desk.

Tristan said, “The Beasts themselves
are all werecreatures, mostly alligators and feral hogs. Besides
the women, there’s only one non-shifter in the group. He’s a witch.
Every chapter of the Beasts has one to keep their club
warded.”

Oops. The danger factor just went up a
millionfold. “He’ll be able to see me.” All witches have second
sight that allows them to see the dead. I’d run afoul of a
particularly nasty one a few months back.

From his oak perch, Gerald rumbled,
“You’ll have to hide when he’s around. This guy is a really good
witch and really bad news.”

Tristan nodded and patted my shoulder.
“Dan can catch you up when you get to the club. Do you know where
it is?”

Everyone knew where the Beasts club
was. The black-painted concrete building stuck out amongst the
small cottage-style homes that lined the same road. “Yeah, it’s
right off Blount Highway.”

A smile warmed Tristan’s sharp
expression. “Try not to go off course.”

Sheesh. No one would let me live down
my many miscalculations in transporting from one place to another
when I’d first become a ghost. I scowled at Tristan. “Ha ha. I
haven’t landed in the wrong place in two months, thank you very
much.”

He went all businesslike again. When
Tristan is a vampire, we have more of an employer-employee type of
relationship. It bears little resemblance to the hot and heavy
stuff we do during daylight hours. Not that I’d want him that way
while he was a vampire. Shudder.

“Have Dan get here as soon as possible.
Be careful.”

Sometimes he gets paternal on me, which
I don’t appreciate at all. Never mind he’s got a good sixty-five
years of existence over me. I am a grown woman. “Hey, this is me
you’re talking too.”