Wolf Magic: A Fantasy of Werewolves and Witches in the Twilight (9 page)

SAMPLE CHAPTER

DARK SENSUALITIES AND PRIMAL INSTINCTS

PARANORMAL EROTICA

SASCHA ILLYVICH

DARK TRADERS

CHAPTER ONE

"You will board a plane tomorrow and speak with a Mrs.  Connie Maxwell about their books, Miss Raven." The portly old man handed Miranda a manila envelope.

Reaching across the desk, Miranda took the envelope and opened it.  Nodding, she thumbed through the pages of documentation until she came to a stop.  "Mr. Musgrave, you want me to what?"

"Investigate their accounting practices, Miss Raven."

"But I've only been with the Securities and Exchange Commission for a short while.  Are you sure you want me going in there?"

The old man folded his wrinkled hands together.  "We are, Miss Raven."

His monotone voice was beginning to bug her.

"But aren't there lower levels that should begin the investigation?  What about...?"

The tall, burly man held up a hand.  "We realize that this is a little out of the ordinary, Miss Raven, but to be frank this corporation's activities could bankrupt this company if they aren't kept in line with the remaining 2,000 plus companies traded daily."

Whistling, Miranda's eyebrows rose.  "What makes X Corporation so dangerous?" Her interest was piqued. 

"It seems that X Corporation is playing by different rules than the rest of the companies listed on the NYSE."

"Meaning?"

"I don't know, Miss Raven." Darrell Musgrave leaned back in his chair.  He reached into a drawer on a desk behind him and retrieved a flask.  Taking a long sip from the flask, he licked his lips. 

Miranda was shocked that the head of the SEC was a tippler.  Of course, this was a high stress job.  "What?"

"I did not stutter, Miss Raven.  We honestly don't know.  Are you old enough to remember what happened to Ken Lay of Enron?"

"Of course.  That case is famous." It was the reason she wanted to work with the SEC in the first place.

"Then you understand that thousands of shareholders were screwed out of retirement funds because the company lied?"

Nodding, she said, "I do."

Mr. Musgrave leaned back in his chair.  "Then you will take on this assignment and be given whatever resources required to do your job."

"But I'm not sure I can handle this yet.  Shouldn't you send someone in who has more–"

"Spare me, Miss Raven."

Standing, Miranda's face flushed red, she looked at her boss, Mr. Musgrave.  "So you would send me to investigate X Corp, knowing I'm a rookie?"

The old man pushed his glasses over his fat nose.  Bald, what hair he did have was gray and thin.  "Yes, we think you have the skills to tackle this one."

"But vampires run that corporation!"

Mr. Musgrave leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk.  "We know, Miss Raven.  That's why we're sending you.  You have," he closed his beady eyes, his fat lips parted, "people skills.  Besides, it doesn't matter if the souls are damned.  Vampirism is by no means a punishment filled with ruthlessness and violence, Miss Raven.  Everyone is capable of making mistakes."

Slamming her hands on the desk, Miranda realized she could lose her job with the SEC if she refused.  They'd have grounds for firing her based on discrimination policies.  After vampires were recognized as a race and allowed the same rights as the living, they had started acting like humans, buying companies, forming companies, trading them publicly. 

What floored her was that people actually bought shares in the vampire run corporations.  Ever since Bill Gates became undead, people had been chomping at the bit to own stock in his company, which had tripled several times and split at least once the day he announced his decision to join the undead.

"Fine," she sighed. 

"We knew you'd see things our way," Mr. Musgrave leaned back in his plush leather chair.  Smoothing a hand over his white shirt, he extended a hand to Miranda.  "It's nice to work with professionals, Miss Raven."

Taking his hand in hers, Miranda shook his, wiping her hand beneath the level of the desk afterwards.

"Oh Miss Raven," Mr. Musgrave interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Be advised that you will be dealing with old guard Europeans, some of whom have a different sense of right and wrong."

Turning her head slowly, she saw the malicious look in Mr. Musgrave's eyes.  "You mean,"

"Yes.  They're owned and run by vampires."

Miranda suddenly felt sick.  Miranda excused herself and quickly left the room.  X Corporation was known for having shady accounting practices but had never been pinned down for their illegal activities.  Miranda suspected they had two sets of books; one set for the public, the other for shareholders. 

Walking down the long hallway, Miranda stopped in front of the elevator.  Letting out a long breath, she pushed the button, squared her shoulders and waited for the doors to open.

By the time she got to her apartment in downtown New York, it was dark.  Clouds passed in the sky.  The streets were alive with music, bumper to bumper traffic, cabs and bicyclists, and of course, the beautiful bright lights of the city. 

Her flight had been booked already by the SEC.  Tomorrow was a long day.  X Corporation's headquarters was in San Francisco.  Memories of fresh doughnuts on the wharf brought pleasant memories to mind.  The salty smell of the air, the seals on the rocks out at the pier, happy childhood memories Miranda held close to her. 

Then there was X Corporation.  Symbol: XDNGR, they were publicly traded on the New York Stock Exchange.  It seemed silly to be afraid to meddle in their affairs.  They manufactured medical supplies, for Christ's sake.  Millions of hospitals over the world bought from X Corporation.  They were the leaders in their field.  People loved them. 

Except that they were owned by vampires. 

Vampires had gained legal status after they banded together in Europe and slaughtered many of the hunters who'd chased them.  Their deaths were often as gruesome as the deaths caused by the hunters, and only slightly messier. 

Soon after their legal status in Europe, the US followed suit, starting with California.  Flocks of vampires came over, bringing traditions and customs as old as time with them.  Many of the older folks had welcomed the resurgence of the customs while detesting the undead.  Still, they were mostly a quiet race that kept to themselves. 

Unless provoked. 

Miranda swallowed the lump in her throat.  Tomorrow, she'd be dealing face to face with Connie Maxwell, 500-year-old head accountant for X Corporation in hopes of setting the record straight. 

At least their phone conversations had been polite. 

* * * *

Miranda got off the plane at SFO and walked down to baggage claim.  Exhausted from having been up since 8 AM New York time, she yawned.  It was 8 AM in California. 

Hitting street level, she hailed a cab.  Inhaling the smell of brine and sea air, Miranda pulled her jacket over her shoulders.  This was the weather she loved.  Cold and windy, compared to New York's blizzards, the weather of California was easy to deal with. 

Stopping in front of a large multi story building, Miranda paid the cab driver and grabbed her briefcase.  Her luggage would arrive at the hotel later that day.  The meeting she had scheduled with Connie Maxwell was at 10 AM sharp.  She thought it better not to piss off the ancient vampire accountant. 

The building felt ominous, angry and dark.  It looked like every other building nearby, large, multi-windowed and tall, but felt different.  It was as if being inhabited by vampires made all the difference to Miranda.

Slicking her hair back, she smoothed her hands over her red skirt and adjusted her suit coat.  Faking confidence, she strode past the large glass double doors, looking up at the sign that plainly read "X Corporation." A banner with words inscribed stood under the large X. 

Her shoulders tensed up, tightness could be felt in her spine.  Clutching her briefcase, Miranda walked towards the elevators, but a hand on her shoulder made her spin around.

"May I help you?"

Miranda stared open-mouthed at the elderly woman dressed in a plain blue dress.  Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders.  Her pale skin contrasted with the lively look of her deep blue eyes.  Hell, even her lips were plump, red. 

"I don't know.  I mean, I'm uhh," she saw the elderly woman's fangs in her smile.  "I'm looking for Connie Maxwell's office."

"Top floor dear.  Shall I alert her of your presence, Miss," the woman looked at Miranda's nametag, "Raven?"

"Please."

That wasn't so bad.  In fact, the secretary seemed downright polite except for the fact that she was a blood-sucking vampire. 

"You know," she escorted Miranda to the elevator, "we're not all bad."

Miranda blushed.  "I don't know what you mean."

The elder woman smirked.  Reaching for the phone at the desk, she picked it up, dialed four digits and waited.

"Miss Maxwell, a Miss Raven is here to see you.  Shall I send her in?" Nodding, the elder woman hung up the phone and turned to face Miranda.  "You may go see Miss Maxwell, Miss Raven.  She's been expecting you."

Her face flushed, she felt heat from embarrassment over her skin.  Bowing, Miranda forced a smile.  "Thank you."

"You are welcome, child.  Do try to remember that not all of us are evil, angry or power-hungry.  Some of us have even retained certain human qualities."

Nodding, Miranda felt somewhat at ease.  "What's your name?"

"I'm Lucy.  I'm slightly over two hundred years old and have seen much.  Humans can be cruel if they choose.  Or they can ignore their darker nature and live a wholesome life."

"When all you've seen is death, it's hard to hold onto the idea that vampires can be good."

Lucy smiled.  "I know dear.  But have hope.  And trust your instincts.  They will guide you a long way."

"Thank you," Miranda bowed again. 

The elevator doors opened and Miranda stepped inside.  The thought occurred to her that for a large medical supply company, the building seemed rather empty.

Turning to face Lucy, she realized that the woman may have been just over a few hundred years old, but her heart told her that Lucy had only done what was required of her life.  The wear on Lucy's face said plenty about her life. 

New anticipation bubbled in her stomach.  Would Connie Maxwell be as kind?

The elevator rose to the top floor.  The doors opened in a smooth motion and Miranda stepped through.  Spotting a wooden desk, she saw what looked like a human secretary sitting with her hair in a bun.  She was busy typing at the keyboard.  A man walked past her, leaving a file on the woman's desk.  "These are due today.  The person," he said with in a mocking tone, "will be here shortly."

"Ahem?"

Miranda set her hands on her hips.

"Oh, you must be Miss Raven.  Delighted." He didn't offer a hand to shake.

"I'm sure.  I'm here for–"

"Miss Maxwell.  Right this way." His pursed, thin lips bothered Miranda.  Something about him besides the fact that he was undead made her not trust him. 

The man pushed open the large wooden double doors to Connie Maxwell's office and let Miranda enter.

The doors closed behind her with a loud thud.  The room was empty except for a large black leather chair, desk with a glass top, liquor cabinet and a large window that offered a great view of the city.  Two metal chairs sat in front of the desk. 

"Wow." Miranda whistled. 

The room was quiet.  Stepping closer to the large window, Miranda couldn't help but gaze out into the skyline.  Admiring the beauty of San Francisco, she could easily see the ocean from her vantage point.  It was amazing.

Vampires had used capitalism to gain pleasures that the living had cherished for so long.

How annoying.

But Lucy was sweet, non-judgmental. 

Of course, the male who let her into this room was a dick.

The door opened behind her with a loud creak.  Jumping, Miranda let out a breath when she turned to see a tall woman come through the door with a large file folder in her hand. 

"Miss Raven, I assume?"

"Miss Maxwell?"

"Indeed."

Connie Maxwell was dressed impeccably to the nines.  Her auburn hair was done in the latest style, long and in a bun on top of her head.  Black-rimmed glasses hid oval green eyes.  Connie's narrow face looked distrustful but Miranda couldn't put her finger on the reason.

Connie's blue green skirt complemented her pale skin.  Full, pert breasts jutted out proudly.  Long, slender hose-covered legs walked across the carpet.  Connie stood a few inches from Miranda.  Extending her hand, she tilted her head to the side.

"Truce?"

Setting down the briefcase, Miranda smiled weakly.  Hesitant, Miranda took the other woman's hand and shook it.  "Sure."

"Have a seat, Miss Raven."

"Please, call me Miranda."

"Okay.  Miranda, call me Connie.  As you can see by looking at the file," she said, handing the thick file to Miranda, "our practices are well documented.  Why is the SEC so interested in us?"