Animal Attraction (17 page)

I laughed since they couldn’t hear me. It was
a predictable conversation.

“You better believe it. Today’s world is such
a mess. Our country is in trouble, if you ask me. Can you believe
this district sent a
vampire
to the state senate?”

I guessed the adorable part of the
conversation was over. Now we would go on to the ugly, intolerant
portion. I decided now would be a good time to check the storeroom
and started that way.

“It’s a sign of the apocalypse. Mankind is
descending into Hell.”

“We need a strong leader. Your total is ten
fifty-nine. Would you like to make a donation to Reverend
Tattingail’s campaign for county commission today?”

I halted in my tracks and turned to scowl at
the cashier ... as if she could see my disapproval. Was begging for
political contributions in a place of business even legal? Surely
it couldn’t be ethical. Or maybe that was just my opinion.

It wasn’t the elderly lady’s opinion. She had
already dug out her old-fashioned change purse from her clutch. She
plucked at her carefully folded bills and pulled out a twenty. I
noticed all the rest of her cash consisted of ones and change. “I
was going to get my great-granddaughter a toy too, but making sure
she has a decent place to grow up is more important.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Because
mundanes waving bibles are guaranteed to be good people,” I
snarked.

The cashier gave her customer a beatific
smile. “Thank you so much! Oh, the reverend will want to thank you
himself. Hold on a sec.” She raised her voice. “Reverend! Reverend
Tattingail!”

I was delighted to know he was somewhere
within screeching distance. Sure enough, the door to the back
opened and the Tats himself emerged.

He had his public face on, the one that
beamed and wanted to be your best friend ... if you weren’t of
paranormal persuasion. He waved to the murmuring customers as he
passed. “Hello. Hello. How is everyone? You called, Cheryl?”

The cashier nodded and showed Tats the
twenty, pointing to the beaming elderly lady. His smile grew bigger
and brighter as he took her hand in both of his.

“Dear lady, thank you so much for your
support. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“I wish it was more, Reverend Tattingail. I
think it is high time good people took our town back from those...”
she lowered her voice dramatically “...freaks.”

“Way to go from sweet old lady to hag,” I
muttered. “Heaven help your precious great-grandchild if she gets
infected.”

Meanwhile Tattingail nodded, his expression
in sober agreement. “Yes ma’am. I couldn’t agree with you more.
Vampires and shifters trying to bring our children into their awful
way of life ... it has laid heavy on my heart for years now.”

Fear lit the customer’s eyes. “So you don’t
think any of it is an accident?”

“Men like Tristan Keith have been seducing
our youngsters into his immoral embrace for far too long. And that
so-called Zoo Flu ... it’s God’s divine wrath punishing the
wicked.”

Oh that sorry bastard. When I thought of Ryan
Warner sobbing his heart out, when I thought of my sweet little
nephew made to suffer through no fault of his own—

“Why don’t you take that cross you’re wearing
around your neck and—” I started to splutter. I stopped because it
felt like blaspheming to speak my mind right next to a huge display
of bibles.

I rolled my eyes upward. “Sorry, God. If
you’re listening, you know I’m just mad. I don’t want that big
pretender taking anything to do with you and putting it in places
it was not intended.”

I decided it would be best if I left the room
and the senseless blathering filling it. I went to the storeroom to
see what Tats had been up to before Cheryl the cashier had summoned
him.

It was a storeroom, also set up to be a
campaign headquarters. There was a table set up between shelves of
stock, complete with a couple of computers and phones. A young
woman in a pink skirt suit spoke on one of those phones. She tapped
on the computer in front of her as she spoke.

“Yes sir, Mr. Tattingail is determined to get
shifters off our streets. He hopes to have the vampire registry
re-instated in the county too.”

My brows rose at that. The vampire registry
had been deemed unconstitutional by the U.S. Supreme Court years
ago. Challenge after challenge from conservative states had been
struck down. How clueless were Tats’ supporters?

Miss Pink (her lipstick and fingernails
matched her suit) smiled as she chattered on. “Why thank you.
Twenty dollars is certainly appreciated, especially from those on a
fixed income. Every little bit helps inch us along to re-taking
Fulton Falls. We’ll get there, somehow.” She paused her
sugary-sweet monologue. “Oh, twenty dollars? Well, bless your heart
and God love you. Can I send you a bumper sticker? Because you are
so generous!”

I stood there in disbelief as the volunteer
upselled the person on the other end of the line into giving the
campaign one hundred dollars. Miss Pink was a schmoozer of the
highest order. Her expression was smug as she hung up. I wanted to
punch it off her.

Tattingail strutted in and I glared at him. I
wondered if he’d gotten every last penny out of the little old lady
in the store. His question to Pinky only increased my cynical
thoughts. “How are we doing?”

Miss Pink smirked. “The donations are pouring
in following Tristan Keith’s election. People are excited to see
things change locally without his influence. The moment I tell them
I’m with your campaign, they can’t wait to tell me how happy they
are to see him get out of town.”

She handed Tats a sheet of paper from the
nearby printer. I looked over his shoulder to see names, addresses
(many of them assisted care facilities), and pledges. He
chuckled.

“Fulton Falls is on its way to a new day
where all the freaks are banished even when it’s dark. Keep up the
good work.”

I kicked at him even though I knew my toe
would pass through his shin. “You are such a jerk. I almost wish I
had lost control back at the meeting last week. But instead of
sucking you dry, I’d turn you. Then we’ll see what tune you sing.
Ugh! If I wasn’t a lady, I’d say a thing or two. You’d better
believe it.”

I stalked over to a corner and stood there
glaring at the Tats and Miss Pink as they worked their phones and
long lists of people to wheedle money from. I watched and waited,
impatient for the jerk to do something so I could pin something –
anything – nefarious on his self-righteous head.

After a couple of hours of watching the Tats
and Pinky coerce funds from more donors, I was relieved to see the
reverend stand and rub his lower back. Cheryl hadn’t summoned him
this time to thank some contributor and wheedle extra money out of
them, so I had hopes a change of scenery would happen.

For once, he was on my side. “I have to meet
with someone, so you’ll have to hold down the fort,” he advised his
cohort.

“No problem, Reverend,” she said, still perky
after countless calls filled with exclamations of ‘bless you’ and
‘God is saving a special place in heaven for you’. I felt nauseous
because the blessings flowed more copiously according to the amount
of money pledged. It called Miss Pink’s sincerity into
question.

Tattingail stuck his head out into the store
to wave to the cashier. Then he and I climbed into his Buick and
set off to parts unknown.

Naturally a gospel station played on the
radio. It didn’t help my grouchiness. As far as I was concerned,
after two hours of hearing the Tats call paras everything from
unclean to Satan’s children, the man had as much to do with
godliness as Daesh did.

He stopped in a coffee franchise’s drive-thru
to order a latte that had so much chocolate and sugar it should
have given him instant diabetes. Then he drove on to a rundown area
on the outskirts of Fulton Falls. The sedan pulled into the lot of
a park that had seen better days. The playground’s equipment had
been new in the 1990s, and the basketball court was cracked with
weeds growing in several places. The nearby houses were dilapidated
with cars on blocks. The area looked pretty unsavory. I imagined
whoever the Tats was meeting would not be a banker or CEO.

Tattingail checked his watch and then the
clock on the dashboard. He grunted and settled back with the car
still running. For the heat I supposed, since everyone commented on
how nippy the weather was. As a ghost I didn’t feel it. As
Patricia, I was always freezing except for those few awfully won
moments of pleasure after feeding on Gerald.

I didn’t know what to expect when the Tats’
appointment showed up, but it sure wasn’t my brother-in-law’s
truck. The big pickup with the dark tinted windows was impossible
to mistake. But then, why was I so surprised? After all, I’d had
more than a little suspicion it was Tattingail blackmailing
Ryan.

The minister sucked down the rest of his
latte, switched off the ignition, and got out of his car. He opened
the passenger side door of Ryan’s truck and climbed in. I followed,
shoving past the unknowing Tattingail to perch in the extended
cab’s backseat. A child’s booster seat and a couple of toys
cluttered it. It made me smile a little to see evidence of my
adorable nephew.

Tattingail’s now-hated voice pulled the smile
out of me, though he sounded pleased. “This needn’t take long. Do
we have a deal or not?”

“Yes.” Ryan didn’t bother to look at him. He
stared straight out the windshield at the swingset with its three
out of five broken swings.

“Good. I’ll call you with a date and
time.”

“Call the cell phone this time. My wife
wanted to know why someone like you would call someone like me
after she saw the I.D.”

“I hope you took care of that?”

Ryan shrugged. I felt like I watched a
mannequin being made to move. He was that lifeless.

Tattingail’s tone was breezy. “Make sure when
you come that you use the members and staff entrance. You’ll see
the sign.”

“Fine.” The word was only a ghost of a
whisper.

“Don’t look so grim, old boy. You might enjoy
doing what comes natural for your kind.” With that and a hearty
chuckle that made me want to climb in Patricia’s body so I’d have
fangs to rip his throat out, Tattingail got out of the truck.

I sat there for a second as Ryan clutched the
steering wheel with white-knuckled pressure. I don’t remember ever
seeing a face more hopeless and angry. He put the truck in
gear.

I hopped out and reluctantly got back in the
Buick. The Tats talked on his cell phone, still laughing as he
spoke.

He said, “We have a bear.” He paused to
listen to the person on the other end. I put my head close, trying
to hear too. No luck since Tattingail had the thing smashed tight
to his ear.

Reverend Butt spoke again. “No, we’ll make
this one a special occasion. Build the anticipation. Really whet
everyone’s appetite. We have the other one ready to go anyway. Hey,
since I have you on the line, let’s talk about next month’s
fundraiser.”

He started the car and put it in gear, the
phone still at his ear. I scowled at him. “Don’t you know it’s
dangerous to talk on the phone while you’re driving? Same stats as
driving drunk, you moron.”

Unaware of my advice, the Tats kept on
yapping as he pulled out onto the road. “Oh, at least twenty-five
dollars a plate. That’s good barbecue, you know?”

I made a growling sound as he blew past a bus
flashing its reds as it made a stop. No way this clown was running
a kid down on my watch. “As much as I’d love for you to wrap
yourself around a telephone pole, I don’t want you hurting anyone
else,” I said, putting my hand to his phone.

I drew on the device’s battery. Oh yum, yum,
yum. What blood is to a vampire, power is to a ghost. It must have
been recently charged, because I suddenly felt awesome. Almost
tipsy. Too bad it wasn’t enough juice to make me visible. I would
have loved to make the Tats poop his pants.

The phone beeped a warning and died
mid-conversation. Tattingail pulled it from his ear at last and
stared at the dark, dead screen. His brows drew down over his eyes.
“Damn it!”

I sat back and giggled. “What language from a
good Christian. For shame.”

I got no further information on what
Tattingail and Ryan had agreed to. My brother-in-law was to report
to a service entrance. But a service entrance to what? It irritated
me that I had no answers.

At least I knew for sure that the Tats was
the man blackmailing Ryan. But there was darned little I could do
with the information except stick close to the so-called reverend
when possible. I couldn’t even say for sure that Tristan’s old
political rival had anything to do with shifter disappearances.

When Patricia’s body called me, I was in a
bad mood. That begged for trouble the moment hungry vampire
surrounded my consciousness. Making it worse was that Gerald wasn’t
there waiting for me as usual when I popped out of the casket like
a macabre jack-in-the-box. A lone bottle of BP9 sat on the bench
instead. With nothing else at hand to settle my bloodlust, I
consumed it in a hurry. Then I began to look for something
else.

The cemetery was quiet at that early hour.
Despite having a bottle of Blood Potion in me, it only took the
edge off my hunger. I ached for more. Seeing a car enter the
graveyard’s gates made me lick my lips in anticipation. Breakfast
was served.

The car, its headlights dazzling my sensitive
eyes, headed my way. I struggled to pull on the glamour that would
disguise my fiend-red eyes.
Come to me
, I coaxed the
approaching prey.

It did. It stopped a yard from me. Someone
got out and I tensed, ready to fling myself on him.