Hell On Heels

by Robyn Peterman

  “I know he’s hot,” Dwayne said. “Look at you—you’re so gorge it’s redonkulous. You’re all legs and boobs and hair and lips—you’re far too beautiful to be hung up on a goober.”

  “Are you calling me shallow?” I snapped as I ransacked my tiny apartment for clean clothes. Damn it, tomorrow was laundry day. I was going to have to pack dirty clothes.

  “So he’s ugly and puny and wears bikini panties?”

  “No! He’s hotter than Satan’s underpants and he wears boxer briefs,” I shouted. “You happy?”

  “He’s actually a nice guy.”

  “You’ve met Hank?” I was so confused I was this close to making fun of his skinny jeans just so he would leave.

  “Satan. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”

  How was it that everyone I came in contact with today stole my ability to speak? Thankfully I was interrupted by somebody knocking on my door.

  “You expecting someone?” Dwayne asked as he pilfered the remote back and found Dance Moms.

  “No.”

  I peeked through the peephole. Nobody came to my place except Dwayne and the occasional pizza delivery guy or Chinese food take out guy or Indian food take out guy. Wait. What the hell was my boss doing here?

  “Angela?”

  “You going to let me in?”

  “Depends.”

  “Open the damn door.”

  I did.

  Angela tromped into my shoebox and made herself at home. Her hair was truly spectacular. It looked like she might have even pulled out a clump on the left side. “You want to tell me why the sheriff and alpha of Hung Island, Georgia says he won’t work with you?”

  “Um…no?”

  “He said he had a hard time believing someone as flaky and irresponsible as you had become an agent for the Council and he wants someone else.” Angela narrowed her eyes at me and took the remote form Dwayne. “Spill it, Essie.”

  I figured the best way to handle this was to lie—hugely. However, gay Vampyre boyfriends had a way of interrupting and screwing up all your plans.

  “Well, you see…”

  “He’s her mate and he dipped his stick in several other…actually many other oil tanks. So she dumped his furry player ass, snuck away in the middle of the night and hadn’t really planned on ever going back there again.” Dwayne sucked in a huge breath, which was ridiculous because Vampyres didn’t breathe.

  It took everything I had not to scream and go all wolfy. “Dwayne, clearly you want me to go medieval on your lily white ass because I can’t imagine why you would utter such bullshit to my boss.”

  “Doesn’t sound like bullshit to me,” Angela said as she channel surfed and landed happily on an old episode of Cagney and Lacey. “We might have a problem here.”

  “Are you replacing me?” Hank Wilson had screwed me over once when I was his. He was not going to do it again when I wasn’t.

  “Your call,” she said. Dwayne, who was an outstanding shoplifter, covertly took back the remote and flipped over to the Food Channel. Angela glanced up at the tube and gave Dwayne the evil eye.

  “I refuse to watch lesbians fight crime in the eighties. I’ll get hives,” he explained, tilted his head to the right and gave Angela a smile. He was so pretty it was silly—piercing blue eyes and body to die for. Even my boss had a hard time resisting his charm.

  “Fine,” she grumbled.

  “Excuse me,” I yelled. “This conversation is about me, not testosterone ridden women cops with bad hair, hives or food. It’s my life we’re talking about here—me, me, me!” My voice had risen to decibels meant to attract stray animals within a ten-mile radius, evidenced by the wincing and ear covering.

  “Essie, are you done?” Dwayne asked fearfully.

  “Possibly. What did you tell him?” I asked Angela.

  “I told him the Council has the last word in all matters. Always. And if he had a problem with it he could take it up with the elders next month when they stay awake long enough to listen to the petitions of their people.”

  “Oh my god, that’s awesome,” I squealed. “What did he say?”

  “That if we send you down he’ll give you bus money so you can hightail your sorry cowardly butt right back out of town.”

  Was she grinning at me, and was that little shit Dwayne jotting the conversation down in the notes section on his phone?

  “Let me tell you something,” I ground out between clenched teeth as I confiscated Dwayne’s phone and pocketed it. “I am going to Hung Island, Georgia tomorrow and I will kick his ass. I will find the killer first and then I will castrate the alpha of the Georgia Pack…with a dull butter knife.”

  Angela laughed and Dwayne jack-knifed over on the couch in a visceral reaction to my plan. I stomped into my bathroom and slammed the door to make my point, then pressed my ear to the rickety wood to hear them talk behind my back.

  “I’ll bet you five hundred dollars she’s gonna bang him,” Dwayne told Angela.

  “I’ll bet you a thousand that you’re right,” she shot back.

  “You’re on.”

  Chapter 2

  “This music is going to make me yack.” Dwayne moaned and put his hands over his ears.

  Trying to ignore him wasn’t working. I promised myself I wouldn’t put him out of the car until we were at least a hundred miles outside of Chicago. I figured anything less than that wouldn’t be the kind of walk home that would teach him a lesson.

  “First of all, Vampyres can’t yack and I don’t recall asking you to come with me,” I replied and cranked up The Clash.

  “You have got to be kidding.” He huffed and flipped the station to Top Forty. “You need me.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh my god,” Dwayne shrieked. “I luurrve Lady Gaga.”

  “That’s why I need you?”

  “Wait. What?”

  “I need you because you love The Gaga?”

  Dwayne rolled his eyes. “Everyone loves The Gaga. You need me because you need to show your hometown and Hank the Hooker that you have a new man in your life.”

  “You’re a Vampyre.”

  “Yes, and?”

  “Well, um…you’re gay.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I am hotter than asphalt in August and I have a huge package.”

  While his points were accurate there was no mistaking his sexual preference. The skinny jeans, starched muscle shirt, canvas Mary Janes and the gold hoop earrings were an undead giveaway.

  “You know, I think you should just be my best friend. I want to show them I don’t need a man to make it in this world…okay?” I glanced over and he was crying. Shitshitshit. Why did I always say the wrong thing? “Dwayne, I’m sorry. You can totally be my…”

  “You really consider me your best friend?” he blubbered. “I have never had a best friend in all my three hundred years. I’ve tried, but I just…” He broke down and let her rip.

  “Yes, you’re my best friend, you idiot. Stop crying. Now.” Snark I could deal with. Tears? Not so much.

  “Oh my god, I just feel so happy,” he gushed. “And I want you to know if you change your mind about the boyfriend thing just wink at me four times and I’ll stick my tongue down your throat.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Anything for my best friend. Ohhh Essie, are there any gay bars in Hung?”

  This was going to be a wonderful trip.

  ***

  One way in to Hung Island, Georgia. One way out. The bridge was long and the ocean was beautiful. Sun glistened off the water and sparkled like diamonds. Dwayne was quiet for the first time in fifteen hours. As we pulled into town, my gut clenched and I started to sweat. This was stupid—so very stupid. The nostalgic pull of this place was huge and I felt sucked back in immediately.

  “Holy Hell,” Dwayne whispered. “It’s beautiful here. How did you leave this place?”

  He was right. It was beautiful. It had the small town feel mixe
d up with the ocean and land full of wild grasses and rolling hills. How did I leave?

  “I left because I hate it here,” I lied. “We’ll do the job, castrate the alpha with a butter knife and get out. You got it?”

  “Whatever you say, best friend. Whatever you say.” He grinned.

  “I’m gonna drop you off at my Grandma Bobby Sue’s. She doesn’t exactly know we’re coming so you have to be on your best behavior.”

  “Will you be?”

  “Will I be what?” God, Vamps were tiresome.

  “On your best behavior.”

  “Absolutely not. We’re here.”

  I stopped my crappy car in front of a charming old Craftsman. Flowers covered every inch of the yard. It was a literal explosion of riotous color and I loved it. Granny hated grass—found the color offensive. It was the home I grew up in. Granny BS, as everyone loved to call her, had raised me after my parents died in a horrific car accident when I was four. I barely remembered my parents, but Granny had told me beautiful bedtime stories about them my entire childhood.

  “OMG, this place is so cute I could scream.” Dwayne squealed and jumped out of the car into the blazing sunlight. All the stories about Vamps burning to ash or sparkling like diamonds in the sun were myth. The only thing that could kill Weres and Vamps were silver bullets, decapitation, fire and a silver stake in the heart.

  Grabbing Dwayne by the neck of his muscle shirt, I stopped him before he went tearing into the house. “Granny is old school. She thinks Vamps are…you know.”

  “Blood sucking leeches who should be eliminated?” Dwayne grinned from ear to ear. He loved a challenge. Crap.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but she’s old and set in her geezer ways. So if you have to, steer clear.”

  “I’ll have her eating kibble out of my manicured lily white hand in no time at…holy shit!” Dwayne screamed and ducked as a blur of Granny BS came flying out of the house and tackled my ass in a bed of posies.

  “Mother humper.” I grunted and struggled as I tried to shove all ninety-five pounds of pissed off Grandma Werewolf away from me.

  “Gimme that stomach,” she hissed as she yanked up my shirt. Thank the Lord I was wearing a bra. Dwayne stood in mute shock and just watched me get my butt handed to me by my tiny granny, who even at eighty was the spitting image of a miniature Sophia Loren in her younger years.

  “Get off of me, you crazy old bag,” I ground out and tried to nail her with a solid left. She ducked and backslapped my head.

  “I said no tattoos and no piercings till you’re fifty,” she yelled. “Where is it?”

  “Oh my GOD,” I screeched as I trapped her head with my legs in a scissors hold. “You need meds.”

  “Tried ‘em. They didn’t work,” she grumbled as she escaped from my hold. She grabbed me from behind as I tried to make a run for my car and ripped out my bellybutton ring.

  “Ahhhhhhgrhupcraaap, that hurt, you nasty old bat from Hell.” I screamed and looked down at the bloody hole that used to be really cute and sparkly. “That was a one carat diamond, you ancient witch.”

  Both of her eyebrows shot up and I swear to god they touched her hairline.

  “Okay, fine,” I muttered. “It was cubic zirconia, but it was NOT cheap.”

  “Hookers have belly rings,” she snapped.

  “No, hookers have pimps. Normal people have belly rings, or at least they used to,” I shot back as I examined the wound that was already closing up.

  “Come give your granny a hug,” she said and put her arms out.

  I approached warily just in case she needed to dole out more punishment for my piercing transgression. She folded me into her arms and hugged me hard. That was the thing about my granny. What you saw was what you got. Everyone always knew where they stood with her. She was mad and then she was done. Period.

  “Lawdy, I have missed you, child,” she cooed.

  “Missed you too, you old cow.” I grinned and hugged her back. I caught Dwayne out of the corner of my eye. He was even paler than normal if that was possible and he had placed his hands over his pierced ears.

  “Granny, I brought my…”

  “Gay Vampyre friend,” she finished my introduction. She marched over to him, slapped her hands on her skinny hips and stared. She was easily a foot shorter than Dwayne, but he trembled like a baby. “Do you knit?” she asked him.

  “Um…no, but I’ve always wanted to learn,” he choked out.

  She looked him up and down for a loooong minute, grunted and nodded her head. “We’ll get along just fine then. Get your asses inside before the neighbors call the cops.”

  “Why would they call the cops?” Dwayne asked, still terrified.

  “Well boy, I live amongst humans and I just walloped my granddaughter on the front lawn. Most people don’t think that’s exactly normal.”

  “Point,” he agreed and hightailed it to the house.

  “Besides,” she cackled. “Wouldn’t want the sheriff coming over to arrest you now, would we?”

  I rolled my eyes and flipped her the bird behind her back.

  “Saw that, girlie,” she said.

  Holy Hell, she still had eyes in the back of her head. If I was smart, I’d grab Dwayne, get in my car and head back to Chicago…but I had a killer to catch and a whole lot to prove here. Smart wasn’t on my agenda today.

  Chapter 3

  The house was exactly the same as it was last time I saw it a year ago. Granny had more crap on her tables, walls and shelves than an antique store. Dwayne was positively speechless and that was good. Granny took her décor seriously.

  “I’m a little disappointed that you want to be a model, Essie,” Granny sighed. “You have brains and a mean right hook. Never thought you’d try to coast by with your looks.”

  I gave Dwayne the I’ll kill you if you tell her I’m an agent on a mission look and thankfully he understood. While I hated that my granny thought I was shallow and jobless, it was far safer that she didn’t know why I was really here.

  “Well, you know…I just need to make a few bucks, then get back to my life in the big city,” I mumbled. I was a sucky liar around my granny and she knew it.

  “Hmmm,” she said, staring daggers at me.

  “What?” I asked, not exactly making eye contact.

  “Nothin’. I’m just lookin’,” she challenged.

  “And what are you looking at?” I blew out an exasperated sigh and met her eyes. A challenge was a challenge and I was a Werewolf…

  “A bald face little fibber girl,” she crowed. “Spill it or I’ll whoop your butt again.”

  Dwayne quickly backed himself into a corner and slid his phone out of his pocket. That shit was going to video my ass kicking. I had several choices here…destroy Dwayne’s phone, elaborate on my lie or come clean. The only good option was the phone.

  “Fine,” I snapped and sucked in a huge breath. The truth will set you free or result in a trip to the ER… “I’m an agent with the Council—a trained killer for WTF and I’m good at it. The fact that I’m a magnet for trouble has finally paid off. I’m down here to find out who in the hell is killing Werewolves before it blows up in our faces. I plan to find the perps and destroy them with my own hands or a gun, whichever will be most painful. Then I’m going to castrate Hank with a dull butter knife. I plan on a short vacation when I’m done before going back to Chicago.”

  For the first time in my twenty-eight years on Earth, Granny was mute. It was all kinds of awesome.

  “Can I come on the vacation?” Dwayne asked.

  “Yes. Cat got your tongue, old woman?” I asked.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said almost inaudibly. “I suppose this shouldn’t surprise me. You are a female alpha bitch.”

  “No,” I corrected her. “I’m a lone wolf who wants nothing to do with Pack politics. Ever.”

  Granny sat her skinny bottom down on her plastic slipcovered floral couch and shook her head. “Ever is a long time, little g
irl. Well, I suppose I should tell you something now,” she said gravely and worried her bottom lip.

  “Oh my god, are you sick?” I gasped. Introspective thought was way out of my granny’s normal behavior pattern. My stomach roiled. She was all I had left in the world and as much as I wanted to skin her alive, I loved her even more.

  “Weres don’t get sick. It’s about your mamma and daddy. Sit down. And Dwayne, hand over your phone. If I find out you have loose lips, I’ll remove them,” she told my bestie.

  I sat. Dwayne handed. I had thought I knew everything there was to know about my parents, but clearly I was mistaken. Hugely mistaken.

  “You remember when I told you your mamma and daddy died in a car accident?”

  “Yes,” I replied slowly. “You showed me the newspaper articles.”

  “That’s right.” She nodded. “They did die in a car, but it wasn’t no accident.”

  Movement was necessary or I thought I might throw up. I paced the room and tried to untangle my thoughts. It wasn’t like I’d even known my parents, but they were mine and now I felt cheated somehow. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest I was sure the neighbors could hear it. My parents were murdered and this was the first time I was hearing about it?

  “Again. Say that again.” Surely I’d misunderstood. I’d always been one to jump to conclusions my entire life, but the look on Granny’s face told me that this wasn’t one of those times.

  “They didn’t own a hardware store. Well, actually I think they did, but it was just a cover.”

  “For what?” I asked, fairly sure I knew where this was going.

  “They were WTF, child, and they were taken out,” she said and wrapped her skinny little arms around herself. “Broke my heart—still does.”

  “And you never told me this? Why?” I demanded and got right up in her face.

  “I don’t rightly know,” she said quietly. “I wanted you to grow up happy and not feel the need for revenge.”

  She stroked my cheek the way she did when I was a child and I leaned into her hand for comfort. I was angry, but she did what she thought was right. Needless to say, she wasn’t right, but…