Animal Attraction (3 page)

Vampire hearing is sensitive. I heard when
Gerald got into his car half a mile away. The door slammed, letting
me know the werepanther’s temper. He treated his fully restored ’67
Mercury Cougar with kid gloves most of the time.

“I’m dressed,” I told Levi. The pink silk
blouse was perhaps a bit flouncy for Patricia’s body, but it gave
her bluish-white skin some life. Cream-colored slacks toned down
the frivolous top.

Levi turned and grinned at me. I knew his
smile meant trouble. I huffed with impatience. “What?”

“The irresistible Brandilynn Payson scores
another sweetheart.”

“Don’t be stupid. Gerald was in love with
this body’s previous occupant.”

He snickered. “Which is why he was so quick
to open his fly when you lost your shit. And why he’d threaten a
federal agent with covering up a murder if you decide to kill
me.”

At my glare, he raised his hands in
surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry for the innuendo and the
language. I promised not to make you mad. I apologize. Truce?”

I wasn’t mollified in the least. “You’re such
a jerk. Tell me what you want so I can get on with my
afterlife.”

Before he got into that, I wanted to know
something more important to me personally. “First things first. Why
did Dan send you to talk to me? And why did you approach him?”

Levi shrugged. “I can’t get to Tristan Keith.
Every time I try to talk to him, his secretary puts me off. I’m not
sure she’s passing along my messages.”

Tristan’s secretary Wendy was too efficient
to not tell Tristan a fed was trying to reach him. My bet was that
Tristan snubbed Levi on purpose.

Tristan and I were history. Big time. I found
it interesting that Tristan still held a grudge over the brief
encounter I’d had with Levi. Especially since Tristan had been
banging blood groupies left and right at the time.

Levi continued. “I thought talking to someone
who has his lordship’s ear might get things moving. So I approached
the clairvoyant and asked her if she could help me talk to Dan. She
did so, and he said you might have more luck talking to Tristan
Keith than he would.” The shifter gave me a curious look. “I’m
running in rings trying to get to Keith, and no one will help me.
Instead, you’re all passing me around like a hot potato. Is there
trouble in the land of our new state legislator?”

I snorted, a most unladylike sound.
“Tristan’s not elected yet. Dan knows he’s less likely to talk to
me than him anyway.” My tone ended in a snarl.

“What has got your panties in a bunch, girl?
Or are those vampire urges making you cranky?”

I opened a bottle of BP9 and took a healthy
swallow. “It makes me wonder if my boyfriend sent you here to
interrupt anything that might be happening with Gerald. Like what
you found.”

Levi’s golden brown eyes widened. “Your
boyfriend – so the ghost Dan Saling is the guy that keeps me from
having a decent chance at you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You do perfectly
fine on your own convincing me to keep my distance.”

I drained the bottle, gathering my thoughts.
I made myself go calm. I could deal with Dan later ... and Tristan
MUCH later, if at all.

I made myself businesslike. “What do you want
Tristan to know?”

“A number of shifters have gone missing in
the last four months. Gone without a trace.”

“No sign of hide nor hair?” My quip fell flat
judging from Levi’s grim expression. I sighed. “Levi, you of all
people know how marginalized the weres are. You live it every day.
All it takes is a scratch and some human gets Zoo Flu. Then they’re
dead or furry. The majority of the time, they get ostracized. Since
when is it anything new for shifters to drop out of society?”

He folded big, mouth-watering arms over his
chest. “When they’re family people with steady jobs. I’m not
talking about new shifters. I’m not telling you about the poor
bastards who end up homeless and dumpster diving for their meals.
Hell, two of my best instructors at the academy have vanished.
Missing persons reports have been filed by wives and parents.”

Okay, this was serious. “How many shifters
are we talking about?”

“Eight total, which I know doesn’t sound like
many—”

My mouth dropped open. “But in four months’
time, it’s a lot. I see what you mean. Tristan won’t talk to
you?”

Tristan employed a ton of people, all paras.
If shifters were going missing, he would know. He had to know.

Levi rubbed the back of his neck, his
expression frustrated. “When I’ve tried to set up appointments with
him, his aide reminds me that he’s the head of a vampire clutch,
not the alpha of a pack. She won’t give me the time of day.”

I’d had my own run-ins with Wendy and could
vouch for her ability to keep people away from Tristan. “Go
on.”

“I showed up at the King George tonight,
hoping to catch our would-be state senator and force him to talk to
me. He may not be a shifter, but he’s a para and he keeps up with
everything in this town. He claims to be about all paras’ rights.
Surely he’s noticed something by now.”

“If he has, I’m probably the last person he’d
discuss it with.”

“I guess seeing his sister’s body roaming
around with someone else in it isn’t a welcome sight?”

A spark of anger came and went, leaving
depression in its wake. “Tristan tried to deal with it. He really
did, but he and Patricia were too close. He can’t even tolerate
being in the same room with me these days.”

Once upon a time, Tristan and I had been in
love. We’d been in an uncomfortable triangle, he, Dan, and me. I’d
been ready to give up Dan for Tristan when I’d been pulled into
this weird half-time life in Patricia Keith’s body.

Levi pulled me out of my morose musings. “I
need some help here, Brandilynn. Even the smallest tidbit of
information might be worth something. The cops have nothing. As
much as I hate to admit it, Tristan’s my only hope.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to talk to my ex. But
eight shifters in four months ... this was a big deal. If Fulton
Falls’ champion of para rights didn’t know what was going on, he
needed to.

“I’ll try. I’ll talk to Tristan and the
others.”

“Great. Here are pictures of my instructors.”
Levi handed me some shots, obviously the agents’ federal
identification photos. I looked them over. A weregator and werehog,
both men, both late thirties, early forties. Strong and proud. They
sure didn’t look like people who would up and leave with no
warning.

I shook my head, knowing what I was up
against when it came to Tristan. “I can’t promise anything. Most of
the paras are as freaked out by what happened to me and Patricia as
Tristan is. I hadn’t made many friends among their kind before I
got sucked into this body.”

“No pun intended?” Levi teased. “I’m not
surprised you weren’t popular with the shifters. I remember how you
had a few bad habits when it came to political correctness.”

I squirmed at the reminder. When Levi and I
first met, I had bad manners. Okay, I’ll be frank. I was bigoted. I
had been that way in life when it came to paras, and becoming one
myself as a ghost had not cured me of some unfortunate habits. I’d
referred to shifters as ‘varmints’. Nowadays I would never say such
a thing, especially to someone like Gerald.

I acknowledged that I hadn’t endeared myself
to my supernatural fellows before I’d ended up in Patricia’s body.
“Gerald is one of the few that will still talk to me.”

“He thinks enough of you to play
protector.”

Again I had to admit, at least to myself,
that Gerald’s kindnesses probably had more to do with the form I
currently took than with me myself. But that doesn’t change the
fact he’s been a rock. I owed that man a lot, no matter the
reason.

Levi eyed the distant mint green car shining
in the moonlight with a wry smile. “I guess I won’t chase the big
cat up a tree.” Forever the smarty pants, the agent gave me an
overt ogling. “At least he’s getting something out of his kindness.
You know, I’ve never had a vampire before. As far as possessions
go, this is one of your better ones.”

I released enough of my glamour to flash him
fangs. “No, Levi. No and always no.”

With that, I turned on my heel and stalked
away, grabbing up my BP9 as I went. But I didn’t open a new bottle,
even though Levi’s laugh made my temper spike yet again.

Stupid werewolf.

Chapter 2

By the time Gerald drove me to downtown
Fulton Falls, I’d regained my equilibrium. I guzzled BP9 along the
way until I felt it sloshing around inside my gut. I had to face
both Dan and Tristan in the same night. I was determined to have my
more ferocious instincts under control.

The second factor helping me was Gerald. As
big and bad as he was, he was also a calming influence. I think
there is nothing he won’t do to make me feel better. Even though
his musical tastes run more in line with Kanye and Jay Z, he found
a station playing what I like. It’s hard to pout when you’ve got a
250-pound-plus muscle-bound werepanther next to you singing
‘Stronger’ at the top of his lungs. Plus dancing behind the
steering wheel like nobody’s business. He went on to do the same
with ‘Shake It Off’. He kept smacking my arm to join in despite
knowing my singing voice has a lot in common with the mellow sounds
of a chainsaw. He didn’t wince when I gave in and did the tunes so
much damage, laughing my fool head off the whole while.

The last bit putting me in a more serene
state of mind was the car. I’ve rode in the fanciest luxury autos
around, but there was something about a classic vehicle that
delighted me to no end. The Cougar’s V-8 rumbled like a contented
... well, what I imagine a contented werepanther’s purr might sound
like. Not that Gerald ever purred. At least, not to my knowledge.
It felt like pure strength because he’d put the most powerful
engine in it the model had ever originally boasted. I couldn’t
remember the particulars and I didn’t want to ask. Once Gerald
started talking cars, he never stopped.

The wood-look of the dash gleamed and not a
speck of dust marred anything in the mostly black interior. It made
me think of happier days when I’d been a teenager cruising the
streets with whatever boyfriend I’d had at the moment. Most of them
had driven older cars too. Even the well-heeled parents who boasted
status above all other things knew better than to buy new vehicles
for teenage showoffs.

If not for constant hunger and cold riding
me, I could pretend to back to that more innocent time. Oh, the
warnings I would give younger me!

Filled with the sustenance of bottled blood,
dancing werepanther, and cool car, I tripped my way from the
downtown district’s parking lot to the King George Hotel.

There was no sign of the King George above
ground. Way back in the 1930’s, most of Fulton Falls burned in a
huge fire. With so much devastation, the residents of the town
opted to bury the old and build a new Fulton Falls on top of it.
The first floor of the King George ... all that materially remained
of that once regal playground for the rich and famous ... laid
beneath a big brick building with the original sign that identified
it as the T. I. Griss Department Store. Griss went out of business
in the ‘80s. The building now housed an antique mall.

Access to the underground was found in the
rear of Griss, as locals still referred to it. Tristan owned the
building, and Gerald and I both had keys. We let ourselves into a
small, empty room. Another door opened to a flight of concrete
stairs lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. I knew a
security camera trained on us as we descended. Though the King
George is buried, everyone knew it was far from dead. They also
knew it was a hive of activity for the paras, who had far too many
enemies among the norms to not have safety measures in place.

At the bottom of the stairs we came to yet
another door. This one opened to a place of forgotten grandeur, of
a time when mankind’s stupidity and ills were kept hidden under a
pretty veneer of fashion and luxury.

We were in the restored office portion of the
hotel, not even in the grand lobby or converted ballroom. Yet there
was no mistaking the craftsmanship of the moldings, the fineness of
the wallpaper, or the richness of the carpeting. Tristan had made
restoring the King George’s remaining floor as much a personal
project as the Cougar was for Gerald. There were subtle differences
between the past and present versions of the hotel, but they could
only be detected by someone who saw both the world of the living
and the realm of the dead.

I was such a person at night with Patricia’s
eyes and my ghostly senses working at once. Some of the artwork
hanging on the walls was different because reproductions of the
originals were not always to be had. Plus the offices and
conference rooms we passed the open doors of could hardly be
expected to boast the same furnishings. It was close enough however
that I didn’t get a sense of dizziness that could hit me in the
‘thin’ places where the netherworld encroached on modern
reality.

I could even hear the spirited (ha-ha)
strains of a Dixieland band playing in some part of the hotel.
That’s the music of the hotel, inaudible to the living’s ears.

Gerald and I went our separate ways when we
reached Para Central. I had dubbed the former ballroom turned
office space with the name when I first came here as a ghost.
Somehow it had stuck, and everyone called it Para Central now.
Trendsetter, that’s me.

Gerald went in with a little wave, off to
report to his boss Tristan. I decided to play scaredy girl for the
moment and sought out Dan first. He had some ‘splaining to do about
sending Levi my way at what he knew would be an inopportune time.
Plus I’d feel better with him at my side when I confronted our
fearless leader. Tristan had his own ‘splaining due about why he
avoided Levi when he had a shifter disappearance problem.