Animal Attraction (12 page)

“I do.”

Tattingail marched forward with his stack of
papers. However he veered over to the right and placed them in
front of the woman sitting next to Tristan.

Oh boy. Here at last was my opportunity to
glare. I did so as Tattingail turned around and faced me. His eyes
widened the least little bit before he snorted with pointed
derision and went back to the podium.

The female commissioner sighed and pushed the
paperwork to Tristan with an apologetic smile. Tristan smiled back
and gave a slight shake of his head. I reduced my glare about fifty
percent.

Tristan shuffled through the papers, though I
had the idea it wasn’t necessary to look them over. He’d known
Tattingail was at the meeting on behalf of the country club, which
was why he’d given me that look. No doubt he already knew the
placement of every dotted ‘i’ on the papers in front of him.

Tristan finished his study and handed the
packet back to the female commissioner. As she flipped through with
desultory interest, he addressed the waiting man.

“Once again, Mr. Tattingail—”

“Reverend Tattingail,” he loftily
corrected.

Tristan gave him a little nod. “Reverend
Tattingail. Once again, your club’s request places the hunting
range within 40 yards of Old Jesup Trail, a county-maintained road.
You know perfectly well the ordinance is 50 yards.”

Tattingail huffed. “The part of Old Jesup
Trail that is impacted is barely 500 feet of road that turns into
our club’s private drive. Traffic there is almost non-existent
except for members.”

“Yes, and I’m sure your members would prefer
not to be shot as they make their way to their tee off, tennis
lessons, or hunting party.”

In the face of Tristan’s cool composure,
Tattingail reddened. “We do not challenge the law that states no
one can aim a gun towards the road. We only seek to enhance the
range on property we own.”

The woman on Tristan’s right pushed the
paperwork to the next commissioner and gave Tattingail a severe
look. “Cliff, we’ve been over this before. It’s not safe and it’s
against the ordinance.”

Tattingail drew himself up, looking as plucky
and proud as a crowing rooster. “You’ll notice in those papers that
I have the signatures of all members of our club stating they are
in support of this. These are the people who will be impacted.
We’re even prepared to buy that portion of road from the
county.”

“Which we’ve rejected,” Tristan reminded
him.

It amazed me how little input it took from
Tristan to set Tattingail off. His rolling voice bellowed with
anger. “Which you’ve rejected, you fanged monstrosity. You’ve
scared all the rest into following you. If not for you, not one
person on this commission would deny my petition!”

Everyone in the audience leaned forward,
their faces avid. Now things were getting interesting.

Tristan never turned ugly, but his demeanor
did go cold with displeasure. “That’s enough, Mr. Tattingail. Your
proposal is denied.”

I loved how he stressed the ‘mister’ and
didn’t call him Reverend. It was a subtle but effective dig.

As Tristan banged his little judge’s gavel on
the table in front of him, Tattingail ranted. “Tool of Satan, do
you think we’re not aware of the hold you have over this
commission?”

Gerald still sounded bored. “Here we go
again.”

I was as entertained as the rest. I couldn’t
resist making fun. “Ha! He called Tristan a tool.”

Gerald snorted, but his tone chastised.
“You’re supposed to be acting like Patricia.”

Oh yeah. I noticed that though Gerald’s
expression remained casual, he sat up straight in his chair. His
feet swung under him, ready to spring if things got physical. I
wiped the smile off my face and glowered at Tattingail.

My show was for nothing since the preacher
stayed busy confronting Tristan. He stood there ranting about
godless monsters feeding on innocent humans and passing laws to
keep mundanes under control, yadda, yadda, yadda.

When Tattingail paused for a breath, Tristan
only said, “I am not getting into this with you, Mr.
Tattingail.”

“No, because you think you’re going to
Atlanta to spread your evil throughout the state. But you won’t
win. I dropped out of the race so my supporters could join up with
Cooper and defeat you! This will remind you of God’s might, you
vampire demon. You cannot deny God’s might.”

“But I can deny your zoning request. Consider
that done.”

With a blistering insult I won’t repeat (such
language from a man of God; he should be ashamed) Tattingail
stepped out from behind the podium. He took another step towards
the commissioners. In an instant I shot to my feet and moved to
stand in front of him. I bet no one ever saw me travel the short
distance; it must have looked like I disappeared from one place and
materialized in another.

I felt smug until I realized Gerald stood at
my side. I hadn’t seen him stir.

I ignored that because I had Tattingail to
deal with. With my voice as cold and threatening as Patricia had
ever used, I said, “Request has been denied. You may leave.”

“Now,” Gerald added. He still sounded bored.
Why not? He had to be twice Tattingail’s weight with more muscles
in one arm than the jerk had in his whole body.

The preacher looked at Gerald and me in turn.
The livid color in his face drained as he stared at me. Then his
lip curled back over his upper teeth, like a cornered animal
readying to fight.

Tattingail had enough sense to step back, but
not to shut up. “You think you own this town. But all you’ll get is
a piece of the bowels of hell.”

I said nothing. I just did my glare.
Tattingail turned on his heel, grabbed his briefcase, slammed it
shut, and stormed out. A few of the good old boys in the audience
scowled in my general direction before also leaving. For the most
part though, there was the sound of many sighs and subdued chatter.
The people had gotten what they’d come for.

What can I say? There’s not much to do in
Fulton Falls on a Tuesday night.

I glanced at Gerald. “How did I do?”

Instead of the praise I’d hoped for, he shook
his head. “You got a little toothy. Pull it back a notch next
time.”

Darn it. I reinforced my glamour and went
back to my seat. “Picky, picky,” I groused.

At least one person didn’t mind my overly
enthusiastic performance. Tristan gave me a wink as he wrapped up
the meeting.

After the session closed, Gerald and I waited
around while the people who had attended filed out of the chamber.
Tristan and his fellow commissioners stood in a loose knot, talking
quietly amongst themselves about whatever it was commissioners
discussed. I noted the four members who stood comfortably with
their leader and the two that held back some distance.

At last the final attendee went out into city
hall’s lobby and on into the night. Gerald looked towards Tristan,
who gave him a nod. “We’re done,” the werepanther told me.

He and I headed for the doors. “The night
ended on an interesting note,” I observed.

“It’s not over. Watch your temper.” Gerald
slowed as we reached the double doors that invited us into the
lobby. His nostrils flared, and I went on alert. Someone waited for
us out there.

Sure enough, Cliff Tattingail lingered off to
one side, standing beneath portraits of the President and Vice
President of the United States, the smaller one of Georgia’s
governor, and the even smaller ones arranged in rows of Fulton
Falls’ mayor, city council, and Ford County’s commission. He
stepped forward to confront me the instant my Louboutins tapped
upon the sparkling tiled floor.

“You and your brother are a plague on this
town, vampire. Along with the shifters.” Tattingail looked Gerald
over with a sneer – and something else. Jealousy? Envy? No, more
like the way I stare at chocolate when I’m myself. Covetous, like
he wanted to own Gerald. I knew I had to be reading the Tats wrong.
Maybe he wished he had those cool cornrows.

Reminding myself to be Patricia, I looked
down my nose at him. The heels gave me only an inch on him, but I
managed. “May I help you with something,
Mr.
Tattingail?”

Like Tristan, I decided not to honor him with
the title of reverend. I sincerely hope the good Lord in His wisdom
has no use for men like him.

Tattingail sneered, “You could start by going
back to the pit you crawled out of.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” I invited in my
sweetest tone. “I’m sure you’d be welcome.”

I could see broken capillaries in his nose.
That made me think of blood, of course. Sweet, living blood. The
urge to take a bite out of him held more than one temptation for
me.

Tattingail drew himself up, maybe to make
himself taller than me. “My name is in the book of God. You can’t
hurt me, monster. I am not afraid of you.”

It was all posturing, a way for the Tats to
save face after losing to Tristan for the umpteenth time. He got on
my nerves, however, and the fact he was starting to look like a
meal didn’t sit well with me. I needed him to leave right then and
right there.

I let the glamour go, revealing eyes of
scarlet red and fangs nearly an inch long. Before he could react, I
shoved my face at Tattingail’s and yelled, “Boo!”

He squealed and jumped back a couple of steps
before wheeling around and running outside. Oh my gosh, it was
hilarious. I had to laugh. Yes, I behaved like an insensitive
juvenile, but he had it coming. Tattingail was such an awful
man.

Chortling, I turned to Gerald. “Did you see
him run? Now that was rewarding.”

The werepanther gave me a look of severe
disapproval. “Girl, you can’t go around acting like that. It’s
undignified. Plus he’ll be telling everyone you tried to attack
him. It won’t get him anywhere, but it gives us paras a bad
name.”

He had a point, but sometimes it’s hard to be
above it all. I folded my arms over my chest. “Yes, I’m sure the
Tats will eventually be won over by good manners and the appearance
of normality. He was moments away from loving paras until I set him
back.”

“
The Tats?”
Gerald broke up, his
pointed ears laying back on his head as he enjoyed a good laugh. He
bellowed hilarity until tears squirted out of his eyes.

Finally he calmed down. Wiping his eyes and
still snickering he said, “Okay, okay, you win this one. And giving
‘the Tats’ the Halloween treatment was pretty funny. Patricia
wouldn’t have taken it so far, but she would have enjoyed putting a
scare in that prick.”

I beamed though my need for a bottle of BP9
was starting to get pretty fierce. I’d been pushed to my limits.
“I’m glad to know I would have made her proud. Now get me to your
car and my stash of liquid sanity.”

“Right this way,” Gerald said, leading me to
the door and opening it for me with a flourish. I heard him chuckle
under his breath. “The Tats. Wait until I tell the others.”

Chapter 6

A week slid by. No more shifters went
missing, and we found no new clues as to where the ‘misplaced’ ones
had gotten off to. It was hard to concentrate on doing much since
the election countdown was on. Before we knew it, the big day had
arrived.

Polls showed that Tristan and Emory Cooper
still ran neck and neck. As soon as I rose as Patricia, Gerald
drove me to the polling place to cast my vote. No, I still couldn’t
fly. I was beginning to think I never would.

I admit to having a moment when I came close
to voting for Cooper. I was happy with Dan. Tristan and I were
over. Yet the thought of Fulton Falls without him, of going into
the King George and knowing he wasn’t in Para Central making things
happen ... it was tough. Especially since in the last week I’d
appeared at his side as Patricia for each event he could show his
face at, hoping to coax just one more vote in his favor. It sucked
that we’d finally reached a decent level of camaraderie when he
might leave soon.

Win or lose, the big push for votes was done.
The excitement and nervous energy in Para Central made me a little
edgier than usual. I decided I could wait to hear the results from
my office.

I sat down at my desk with the idea I’d
tackle the new computer system we’d had installed a few days ago. A
lot of Tristan’s people complained it was full of bugs. Why our
fearless leader had decided to install the mess with everyone
already wigged out over the election, I couldn’t tell. Maybe
Tristan decided that a little more crap added to the current
poop-storm wouldn’t matter.

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

I’m no whiz kid, but I wasn’t helpless when
it came to computers either. Yet I’d had my share of problems with
the new operating system and I was determined to figure it out
before I pitched my computer into a wall. My laptop, still
operating the old way, sat nearby as a backup in case I did lose
it. A freshly opened bottle of Blood Potion also stood sentinel
against my anticipated frustration. I dug in and got to work.

Gerald showed up an hour into it. “Ah,
getting heavy into masochism,” he opined after peeking at my
computer screen.

“No kidding,” I groused. “It’s time to call
in tech support. No way we can keep things running around here with
this mess. How are my eyes and mouth?”

He gave me a thumbs-up. “Black as night and
not toothy.”

“Awesome. Any word on the election?”

“Still close but Tristan is slightly ahead
right now.”

Gerald’s ears swiveled in that cat way of
his. He moved away from my desk and looked out into the hallway.
His ears perked with interest. I loved watching him do that.

His tone was careful. “I think you have a
visitor. You might want to make yourself as presentable as
possible,
Patricia
.”