NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (9 page)

But today was different. When she had mentioned her concerns over the wasting of tax dollars-no mincing words there-Mr. Hobbs said he wasn’t an official. He claimed he didn’t work for the government, saying that this was way over their heads. The OVI was not funded through them. It was run from private donations. He declined vehemently on revealing his so
urces, however.
Although,
he was more than willing to divulge information on vampires.

Simone thought Mr. Hobbs was a little backwards. Why tell people you believe in vampires? Wasn’t he afraid of the fact that people would look at him as if he belonged in the loony bin? But he couldn’t reveal the person or persons donating the money? She wondered if it was because, in some way, it wasn’t on the up-and-up? No. That couldn’t be it. Mr. Brant wanted a story on Mr. Hobbs. If it was illegal, Mr. Hobbs definitely wouldn’t have breathed a word about any of it. Why give
himself
away? Telling a newspaper was certainly one way to get caught. If it was illegal, Mr. Hobbs would’ve kept his mouth shut. Simone was sure of that. He didn’t look like the type of person to take what he dished out.

She really wanted to find out the source. Who was feeding him this stuff? And why did a grown man believe in such a myth? Vampires and dragons were the stuff kids daydreamed about when they were still in elementar
y school. A man in his forties should know better.
Maybe Mr. Hobbs wasn’t all there. A screw was loose somewhere. Maybe his brain didn’t fully grow with the rest of him.

Oh, but how she loved a challenge. She reveled in the idea of an unsolved mystery. It really got her adrenaline pumping.

Simone had a good friend who could probably sway Mr. Hobbs into revealing enough for Simone to put the pieces together. Her friend, Indea Sky, with her dark hair and cat green eyes and svelte body, might make it happen. Mr. Hobbs was just a man, after all. They were weak in matters of the opposite sex. A bat of the eyelashes, a shake of the hips and they were putty.

Simone had no problems in the men department either. At five feet eight inches tall and one hundred and thirty pounds, she had her share of devotees and lusty looks. A flick of her beyond the shoulder fire red waves of hair and a hazel eyed wink, men were practically on their knees. If she wanted it that way, that is. She preferred the le
ss shallow way: be direct and
just talk to a man rather than play the coy vixen. It just wasn’t her style. It never had been.

Simone couldn’t use her feminine wiles on Mr. Hobbs any way. He already knew she was a journalist and would be using him to get
her story. She wondered, though, if he would be smart enough to catch on if Indea wanted to know things. Of course, she wouldn’t flat out ask. She could find a way to get the information subtly.

Oh, yeah. Mr. Hobbs would barter. That she was sure of. He had made it no secret during the interview that he found her attractive. She had a strong feeling that he would give her the whole story if she gave him her whole body. The thought made her sick. She wasn’t that kind of woman. A great story wasn’t worth whoring herself to any man. Or pretending to be someone she’s not.

Nope, neither would wash with her.

Simone wasn’t a gossip hound but she knew of some that do go undercover-literally-for information. That was their business but she preferred attaining her information while standing up, pen and paper, not something else, in her hand. She demanded respect. She wouldn’t get it that way. She
didn’t think she would get it at
all were she to forget her morals for a juicy story.

Simone got up from the sofa and disposed of the finished yogurt container. She washed and put away her spoon. She went into the bathroom and shed her clothing and stepped into the glass door shower. The cool spray invigorated her. Then it hit
her. She couldn’t very well talk about people who jumped into bed for a story and then ask

Indea to flirt with Mr. Hobbs into spilling his hidden facts.
She would be no better than they were. As she shampooed her hair she thought hard about what to do.

No,
she decided, scrubbing her hair into a lathery mass. This had to be on the up-and-up.

She didn’t want to deceive any one in order to make front page of the ‘Alabama Reports’. She never used dishonesty before and she adamant about not using it now. Not ever.

Her boss, Mr. Davis Brant, always congratulated her on a job well done without stepping on any one’s toes or falsifying information to get into the papers. She’s made front page a number of times with the God’s honest truth. That’s the way it was going to stay.

Besides, she had a reputation to uphold. She rinsed her hair and poured conditioner in
her palm and worked it throug
h her tresses.

She knew she had made a few enemies
with her work ethics. She just chalked it up to simple
jealous
y
and they knew she knew of their feelings about her. She didn’t give a rat’s patootie what they thought of her.
She still got the job done w
ith or without their green-eyed sneers.

She rinsed her hair and grabbed her loofah
sponge
and poured a dollop of coconut scented body w
ash on it. She worked it into
foam
ing bubbles
and scrubbed her body from head to toe, inhaling the coconut essence deeply. The scent made her think of a luscious dessert.

Maybe she should pick up a coconut crea
m pie for dessert tomorrow
after
work
,
she contemplated to herself, her stomach rumbling.

Finished
with her shower
, Simone dried her hair a
nd body and then studied her body
in the full length mirror. Did she absolutely, positively need a pie? She worked out intensively enough.

Yeah, she deserved a piece.

She would settle on a salad for dinner tomorrow so she wouldn’t feel so guilty about the slab of pie she envisioned herself indulging in.

Simone walked to her bedroom and found her favorite red bra and panty set. She donned those and then grabbed a pair of denim shorts and red tank top.

She finished blow drying her hair when she decided to call Indea to see if she was home from her job as a sales rep.

Indea answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Indea.
What’s up?”

Indea’s sultry voice floated through the phone lines. “Hello, Simone.” Indea’s accent was very unique and charming. Her background boasted of French and Native American-Cherokee. Her mother was from Chatearoux, France and her dad was born right here in the U.S.A.
Tennessee. It was a rather odd
mix but when seeing the two together, you could understand why.

Simone was somewhat opposite from Indea but they were the best of friends.

Simone’s mother was Irish and her father was English. She had a hint of an accent but you had to listen closely to detect it. Living in the south, her accent took on a southern
charm. But she thought of the French tongue as flowing and
enchanting. Maybe she should ask Indea about setting her up with a true Frenchman. Indea would have no problem finding one. She was half French, after all. And right now, they were both in between relationships. They were twenty-four years old, months separating their ages. They were in the prime of their lives. At least, Simone thought so.

Indea’s voice cut into Simone’s musings. “Well, I was looking through my fridge trying to find out what to have for dinner.”

“If you’re dressed, how about meeting me at that new Chinese restaurant on Main?” Simone suggested.
“My treat.”

“That sounds great! I could go for some sashimi.” Indea made a rustling noise. “I’m putting on my jeans as we speak. Meet you in twenty.”

Simone agreed and replaced the phone back into its cradle.

She studied her face in the mirror. “A little mascara and lip gloss and I’m good to go.”

Five minutes later, Simone locked her apartment door, got into her black Solstice, a car she
‘s
wanted for years and worked hard
for a long time
to finally get, and headed downtown to the restaurant.

*

“Two, please. Non-smoking,”
Indea told the waitress with a cheerful smile on her face. The restaurant was busy tonight, so the waitress quickly took their drink orders and showed them to a table near the windows over looking the beginnings of dusk.

As usual, appreciative male eyes darted their way. Indea always looked great. She was wearing her dark denim flares with black boots and a skin tight dark jade sleeveless shirt. It made her green eyes ‘pop’ even more. A black belt and silver buckle emphasized her little waist. Diamond studs finished the outfit. Her shoulder length black hair hung down in waves. It reminded Simone of a satin waterfall. Her toned, tanned body continually got responsive stares wherever she went. She never let it go to her head, though. Most of the time, she was unaware of just how many glances came her way.

Simone had her own male following and like Indea, she didn’t get a swelled head. It was nice being noticed. But it was another thing
altogether to be stared at and drooled over. Her wavy red hair complemented her creamy skin and hazel eyes. Her body was muscular but femininely so. Both she and Indea worked out religiously. It gave them an excuse to pig out occasionally. And pig out time was now.

Simone perused her menu, her mouth watering at the familiar dishes she’s tasted before. She heard Indea moan in delight. Simone raised her eyebrows in question.

Indea put down her menu. “I just can’t decide. Everything looks and smells so good. I think I’m getting the dinner buffet. That way, I can sample everything.
I’ve had a craving for Kung Pao
Chicken lately.”

Simone teased playfully. “Just where do you plan to put it all and how in the world do you handle that much heat?” Simone couldn’t handle extremely hot peppers. Jalapenos, she could eat ever
y now and again. But Thai chile
s or other peppers they used in Asian cuisine?
No way. Her face would end up matching her hair. She’d be breathing fire in no time.

Indea’s mouth slanted to one side slyly. “I have a fast metabolism. Besides, we work out a lot.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you know I like it hot. It gets my b
lood a-movin’
.” She laughed.

Simone let out a rather loud laugh. She was rewarded with some odd stares but she could care less.
“You’re too much.”

“Okay, then. What’re you having?” Indea
asked,
a smirk on her face.

“As a matter of fact, I’m having everything as well. I’m starved today. I’m going for the buffet.” Simone chuckled but then turned serious. “But what I want-even though you didn’t ask-I want a handsome, hard-bodied, mysterious Frenchman at my every beck and call. Know of any?”

Indea took in a deep breath.
“Mmm.
An intriguing description.
Unfortunately, I don’t know of any right now. I’ll be on the
look out for a couple of them,”
she informed.

“Decided to get one, too, huh
?”

“I might just do that. But you know we probably won’t find any here in Alabama.” Indea became pensive for a moment. “Don’t you have some vacation time coming up soon?”

Simone could practically see the wheels in Indea’s head turning as she formed a plan in her mind.
“Umm, yes-s-s.”
What was she up to?