Beauty is the Beast: Beasts Among Us - Book 1

by Jennifer Zamboni

  The parking lot at Club West was still relatively empty, which was good for us. No one would be jonesing for dance music while we were getting our levels adjusted.

  When Scott opened the sliding door, I jumped out, somewhat stiffly, clutching my violin. I slung my bag over my shoulders so that it hung diagonally across my chest.

  Unloading was something I could participate in without messing up the order of things too much. When my amp came down, I went ahead and wheeled it towards the entrance. I didn’t get 10 feet away before Mark caught up and plopped a duffel of equipment on top. I smiled venomously at him and continued pushing. I would have to come back for more stuff after I got my things settled.

  It had been a long time since I’d been inside Club West. They had built a new stage with steep stairs that someone had thoughtfully placed a ramp over. I left my equipment for a second to check it out. I placed a foot on the plywood, checking for wobble, then walked halfway up and bounced forcefully. It was a little creaky, but it seemed safe enough.

  The place smelled like old sweat, alcohol, and a slight tinge of cleaning products. I loved it.

  Backing my amp up in line with the ramp, I got a running start. It seemed like the easiest way to get it on stage without mishap.

  My plan worked out in my favor. I was soon joined by Austin, so I felt comfortable enough to leave my stuff. I wouldn’t have if one of the guys wouldn’t always be on stage. I don’t trust people not to touch what isn’t theirs.

  On my next trip, I toted mike stands and a kick pedal. Not exactly heavy lifting, but I got to feel useful. With all of us coming and going, we got unpacked in 10 minutes, about the quarter of the time it took us to pack up.

  See what happens when you let me help? I’m efficient, I tell you!

  Once we got all our junk on stage, we set things up to our liking, plugging in this, tuning that.

  I set my laptop up on a music stand and turned it on. There were some rifts I prerecorded to play harmonies live with. You got my electric harmonizing with my acoustic, and it was shivers-down-your-spine magic as long as I kept it toned down to human and avoided sounding something ‘other.’ It’s a slightly different sound.

  The club’s sound guy got us plugged into his system, and we told him what we liked, then left him to do his work. He was new as well. Some sound guys can make you sound like professionals. Others would make sure you never got a following. I was crossing my fingers, hoping he was the former.

  I finished tuning and turned on my sound. I plucked a little for sound quality, then picked up my bow and started jamming. I cranked the volume on my amp and half sat on it, one foot planted on the ground. I like feeling the sound as much as hearing it. Austin picked up his sticks and started a rhythm. We fell in together beautifully, which was promising for the rest of the night. I liked playing with the guys because we read each other so well, musically speaking.

  I wasn’t always part of the band. Mark had picked me up at a music store where I was playing around with different model electrics. He introduced me to the rest of the guys, we jammed for a few weeks, then I started playing with them at gigs. Not much more to it than that.

  Mark and Scott joined in quickly, and we jammed on stage while the sound guy played with his slides and tried to make us sound good out on the dance floor. He’d have to readjust as the night wore on and the sound changed as the place filled up.

  Mark brought us around to our opening song so the microphones could be added into the mix. There were a few minutes of ‘thumbs up,’ ‘thumbs down,’ ‘okay’ sign language with the sound booth, but we eventually got pretty close to what we wanted to hear, at least up on stage.

  “We good?” I asked, setting my violin atop my amp.

  “I think so,” said Mark

  “Great! I need a bottle of water. See you guys at nine!”

  I skipped the whole stairs and ramp routine, and jumped from the stage to the floor.

  I’m sure the bartender would have been happier to serve me an actual drink, but I craved hydration. I’m always hot. Compound that with spotlights, and I was roasting.

  I beat a mad dash to the ladies room to check my makeup—no globs of streaming eyeliner yet, but the night was young. This would be my last chance to use the bathroom for a while, so I took advantage. There was nothing worse than the urge to pee in the middle of a set. Been there, wanted to avoid that.

  The place was starting to fill up. Good. Hopefully we’d get a good crowd of people who’d never seen us before, along with our regular fans. Most of our normal crowd I could at least pick out on sight, even if I didn’t know most of their names.

  The lights dimmed, and I booked it up to the stage, jumping up in the same manner I got down, maybe with a little too much spring—though I did use my hands to look like I was propelling myself—but no one really noticed in the darkened room.

  I picked up my violin and waited, motionless with my bow poised in the air.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming out this evening. We’ve got a great night ahead of us. A lot of you know and love tonight’s band, so I’ll turn things over to them. Please welcome Chaos Theory!” Our host leapt to the side as the spotlights turned red over us.

  I placed my bow to string and slowly drew it across the lowest note. The opening to our first song drew attention better than our introduction. Music is always better than words for that. The rest of the band jumped in, and we were off. We played hard, fast, and loud, loving every minute of it.

  We completed the first set to thunderous applause and promised to be back in 15 minutes.

  A DJ took over, and we took advantage of the dance floor. We dance, mingled, and talked our way across the room and back. I got the barest moment to say hi to Doug, who was lurking around the edge of the room.

  I was somewhere near the middle of the floor when I felt a large hand grab my backside. Before I could stop myself, I swung, fur bristling and a deep snarl ripping out of my throat. The look on the guy’s face was priceless as he beheld me partly changed. It was even worse than in the hair salon the other day. The bristling I felt was actual fur sprouting from my pores. Thank goodness it was dark and loud so no one besides my groper noticed.

  You can always depend on people to act oblivious of things that frighten and confuse them. Their brains disengage, which in that particular case is a good thing.

  I shoved my way off the dance floor and out the back door. It was relatively empty where I exited, so I chose a corner to take deep breaths of cool night air and bring myself back to humanity. My contacts were wrecked but I wasn’t really worried about that. While I was on stage, people would accept amber eyes as part of my look.

  Austin noticed right away when we got back on stage.

  “Did you just put in contacts?” he asked, staring at my eyes in fascination.

  “Yeah, what do you think?” I batted my lashes at him, improvising on the fly.

  “They’re awesome! You should wear them all the time.”

  “I was going to put them in earlier, but I forgot,” I lied. Maybe I would start performing without contacts. I could certainly see better without them.

  I could spot the girls now and then through the spotlights, and I wondered if Meredith had actually made it and if Scott had found her.

  I didn’t see Hades, so that must have meant he’d actually kept himself down to manpower. He’d have stuck out like a beacon if he hadn’t covered himself in a glamour.

  If you didn’t count my almost change on the dance floor, it was a very good night.

  Monday morning was one of the busiest in a while, and that was saying something. Things escalated when Mem Franz walked in, looking how I felt. She wasn’t wearing makeup and her hair was thrown into a crooked ponytail. And she was alone. Mem never came alone. Her husband always drove her.

  She waited until I had my current haircut complete, then she pulled me aside.

  “My George died this morning,” she sobbed into my shoulde
r.

  I wrapped my arms around her. “Oh, Mem, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t want to ask what happened. It seemed disrespectful somehow.

  She pulled away just enough to speak. “He had a heart attack. He was out for a walk with his dog. When Cecil came home without George, I knew something was wrong, and then my neighbors called. They found him and called an ambulance.” Her shoulders shook with her sobs. “He died before they got there.”

  I gently towed her into the kitchen and sat her in one of the worn chairs. My next appointment would just have to wait. I started a kettle for tea and got out two mugs. She was about to be treated to my anti-wolf tea. I figured she could use something soothing.

  I let her babble as I poured, but eventually, I had to interrupt her. “Mem, I’m so sorry, I’ve gotta go do a haircut. Will you be all right here for a little bit?”

  “Yes,” she sniffled into a handkerchief that she’d probably embroidered herself with teal paisley edges.

  I didn’t believe her, but I got up anyway and kissed her on the forehead before heading back out to work.

  My next client was a little perturbed at being made to wait, but that was just too bad. Mem had been a client and friend for a long time. I was extra nice, or at least as close as I could get to extra nice at the time. They tipped and left without any more complaint.

  When I had a lull, I went back to Mem, who was still clutching her now cold mug of tea. Without a word, I took it from her hands, reheated it in the microwave, and handed it back.

  I took up my insulated tumbler and sipped. She copied me.

  She’d stopped crying, but I could tell the tears were still close to the surface. I’d known she’d come to me for a reason, so I waited silently. If she wanted to talk, then I’d let her talk. If she just wanted companionship, then I’d be there for her.

  She took my hand. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I could tell you everything was going to be all right. I wish I knew that was the truth. I’ve lost before, and it near killed me. Whatever you want from me, I’m here for you.” I squeezed her hand with both of mine.

  “You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?” She was watching my face as she spoke, her eyes tired.

  I nodded in response, looking down at our clasped fingers.

  “You’re something different, aren’t you. What have you seen, Gretchen? What’s your story?”

  My breath hitched at her proclamation. “How could you possibly know?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  “Oh, little things. You’ve forgotten your contacts before, and you have claws. Also, I’m positive I’ve heard you growl. Like a dog.”

  I would have thought she was just out of it, but I could distinctly remember the moments she mentioned.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. I’d known Mem for a long time. Probably long enough that she’d notice I wasn’t aging and that I didn’t work certain days. I decided to give her the truth. “Are you sure you want to know my story? There’s a very good chance that you won’t believe me. There’s also a chance you’ll be afraid of me.”

  “Tell me.” She insisted, clutching my smooth-skinned hands in her papery ones.

  “All right. I was born in 1829 in a brothel in Texas. My mother was probably some mix of Mexican and African, a rarity. My father was white, and he didn’t know about me. The girls there named me Maude, and I worked as a maid until I was 14 and they started training me.

  “One night, I was called out to serve a client at the local hotel. This client offered me the chance of a lifetime. I could become as he would make me, live forever, and be free from what they made me. Knowing fully what he was, I accepted, and he changed me. I woke up a few days later and went back to work until the full moon when I changed for the very first time. For three days, there was nothing left of my humanity. When I became myself again, I discovered that there wasn’t a living soul left inside the building. I set the place on fire and fled. I kept on the move until Percy found me and offered me a job and a safe place to stay.”

  “You’re a werewolf.” Mem’s tone didn’t contain the doubt or even the fear that I had expected, just acceptance.

  “I am.”

  I waited, but Mem didn’t say anything further. She just patted my hands, then let go to sip her tea.

  My being a werewolf was easier to accept than her husband’s death.

  “You’re not afraid of me?” I asked, feeling the need to broach the subject.

  “No, why would I be?” she asked in return, her eyebrows furrowed and her head cocked to one side.

  “I’m a monster. Anyone in their right mind would be afraid of me.” I drew my arms wide like I could expose everything inside.

  “I’m not in my right mind, dear, and even if I was, what would the point be? You’ve been cutting my hair for years, and you’ve yet to take a bite out of me.”

  I laughed softly, then leaned over to top off her tea with the pot sitting over the warmer on the middle of the table.

  “This is good. I can’t quite place the flavor. What is it?” She sniffed the steaming liquid.

  “It’s lavender, chamomile, spearmint, and lemon. It helps keep me calm so I don’t wolf out on my clients.”

  “Hm, well it’s magnifique. Just the right thing. And I thank you for telling me your story. I needed the distraction. Will you help me?” She paused to pull herself together again, sucking a deep, shaky breath in through her nose. “Will you help me make the arrangements for George?”

  “Of course. Just tell me what needs doing.”

  “Would you mind if I stayed here for a while? I know you have to work, but I just can’t go home right now.”

  I nodded. “Would you be more comfortable in the library for now? Percy’s got a hundred books, and I could set you up with some more tea if you’d like.”

  “Please.”

  I went about making another pot of tea for her, spooning into a clean steeper basket, setting it in another pot, and pouring boiling water over it. I grabbed the box of ginger snaps and dumped them in a shallow handmade blue bowl. “All right, come with me.” I held a hand out to her and picked up the tray of goodies with the other.

  She took my elbow instead, freeing up my hand to balance the tray.

  Hades met us halfway down the hall and silently took the tray from me.

  “Hades, this is Mem, an old friend of mine. Mem, this is Percy’s husband, Hades.”

  Hades bowed over Mem’s hand and kissed her knuckles. The man had some impressive manners. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madame.”

  “Pleasure is all mine,” she murmured back, her voice sounding empty after so much crying.

  “Mem’s going to hang out in the library for the rest of the day. Would you check on her from time to time and see if she needs anything?” I requested like he was a servant instead of a god.

  “Of course. It would be a pleasure.” He walked into the library with us and set the tray on the coffee table.

  “Hades is a gentleman of leisure at the moment. Feel free to ask him for anything,” I said.

  “Thank you so much.” Mem settled herself in one of the big overstuffed armchairs while I located an afghan for her.

  “Not a problem. I’ll be back in a while. If you need anything—”

  “I’ll be fine.” Mem interrupted me and sent me on my way.

  Hades followed me out.

  “Her husband just died,” I whispered. “And I just told her about me.”

  “Was that wise?” he asked, his smile making it seem as if he wasn’t at all perturbed at the idea.

  “Apparently she already knew something was up with me. We’ll see how she is when it sinks in. I didn’t say anything about the rest of you, so don’t worry.”

  “I don’t really care what she knows, either way, but Percy and Lacey-Marie may.” He followed me down the hall to the kitchen.

  Doug was helping himself to a cup of coffee. Nice that he suddenly felt so comfortable in this crazy h
ouse. I smirked when I saw the pink unicorn mug he was frowning at.

  “You didn’t pick that out, did you?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “It’s the house. It’s magic.”

  He might have been giving me ‘a look,’ but it was obscured by all the hair.

  “No, really. The house is alive. Just use it. It’s impossible to argue.”

  He sighed and poured the coffee, leaving it black.

  “Since you’re here, will you do me a favor?”

  He stood holding his steaming coffee, waiting.

  “A good friend of mine is sitting in the library because her husband just died. Will you go sit in the room with her? You don’t have to talk. Just sit and read or play on the computer or whatever. I just don’t want her to be alone. Hades will look in from time to time, but since you’re here mooching coffee…”

  “Yes. I could do that.” He nodded. “I won’t make her uncomfortable?”

  “I just told her I was a werewolf.”

  “Oh, I see.” He sipped his coffee, nodding his head as he swallowed.

  “Yeah. Come on, I’ll get you settled. Welcome to the house. Oh, and Mem teaches French, so I’d bet she’ll love talking with you.”

  “I want to speak with you later.”

  “Fine.” I led him down the hall and got him settled in front of the computer, then excused myself back to my job.

  Focusing on my work was difficult, but I didn’t receive any complaints. After shutting down the salon for the evening, I got to discover that Hades had invited Doug to stay over for dinner.

  We didn’t have anything fancy planned, so Percy dropped her glamour, Lacey-Marie poured her donor blood into a glass and sipped it with a twisty straw, and I tore apart a half mooing cow. It was us in all our disgusting glory. Appetizing.

  Doug didn’t utter a word during dinner. Neither did Mem, who was in too much shock to notice anything strange.

  I was more worried about Mem than Doug. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to come check out how the real freaks lived.