“So?” he said to me. I suppressed a shudder looking at his bloodless lips. At least I saw no hint of fangs. Had he shown them, I might have run screaming, and never mind my control over Isabella’s body remained so-so.
The more uncomfortable I am, the more belligerent I become. Uneasy to the point of nausea, I forgot my promise to Dan. Respect went out the window and I snapped, “So, what? Complete sentences are most appreciated as I don’t read minds.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed, but his tone remained cold, not creeping into anger territory. “Have you remembered anything about your murder?”
It was as if he’d asked me, “Did you remember to pick up milk on your way home?” His gentle concern so evident earlier today had disappeared. For some reason, that hurt.
Somehow I swallowed the pain and matched the evenness of his voice. “Not yet.”
Tristan turned to address the griffin. “Augustus, can you tell me anything?”
I looked at the beautiful creature regarding me with calm, golden eyes. I had the insane urge to run my palm over his feathered head. I’d never seen anything so amazing.
His beak opened and he spoke. “The thief of lives will find her and she will find him. Judgment will be passed and the assassins scattered.”
As stunning as he was, Augustus’ voice screeched unattractively. The absence of flexible lips made his statement come out, “Buh beep ub libes will bine her and she will bine him. Budgmen will be pasb an the absabsims scabberd.” I couldn’t believe I understood him, but somehow I did.
The faces of those surrounding me were grim with concentration. I scowled at Tristan, impatient to be let in on the secret. “In English?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Augustus is an oracle. He sees the future, or at least the future as it is happening now.”
Well that answered … not one darn thing. I sighed. “Talk slow, okay? I’m feeling stupid.”
That got me a ghost of a smile from Tristan, and something in my chest loosened. Seeing a spark of humanity in the vampire eased a little of my trepidation. “The future is not fixed. Every decision we make changes what might be.”
Patricia nodded. “Augustus can only see where your current path will take you.”
I thought about the griffin’s words. I dared to speak to the magnificent creature, who regarded me with those gentle, golden eyes. “The thief of lives will find me? The man who murdered me? I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.”
Dan spoke and Lana echoed him for those who couldn’t hear him. “Augustus, you said assassins, plural. There’s more than one killer?”
Augustus blinked slowly and looked at Dan. He could see the dead? “Future killers and thieves everywhere. But they are led by the one who bleeds the children of the streets.” His gaze returned to me. “This one has many enemies to overcome. My child, thwart them and your shackles of death shall be lifted for half the time. The thief of souls shall make you a thief of the body.”
His tone was so kind that I couldn’t take offense to his words, but I still defended myself. “I’m a lot of things, Mr. Augustus, but a thief is not one of them.”
Tristan placed a cold hand on my shoulder, and I barely restrained a shiver. “You can’t take his words literally,” he said. “Griffin communication is filled with figurative speech.”
Patricia frowned as she watched Tristan touch me. “And the murkier the meaning, usually the worse the news.”
Augustus looked away from me to regard her. He sighed. “Sweet vessel, the want of you will drive a good man to greatness.”
She didn’t seem to hear the sadness in his voice. Patricia smiled with surprised pleasure. She lost some of her frozen vampiness with the expression, and another centimeter of tension eased for me.
Perhaps she softened because the astounding creature had called her sweet. I didn’t think she heard that adjective thrown her way too often. “Thank you, Augustus.”
I muttered to myself, “Well, at least he’s pretty to look at.”
The griffin heard me. He somehow communicated a smile despite the rigidity of his beak and offered me a little bow. I ducked my head, shamefaced. I really did need to shut up.
Tristan said, “Dan, you know what to do.”
Dan patted my shoulder, the touch barely registering on Isabella’s skin. He might have been nothing more than a spiderweb brushing by on a breeze. “I’ll be at the library when you’re done, should you care to join me.”
He turned and left, and I watched him go, more than a little uneasy to be left behind with the vampires. It felt like my only friend in the world walked away, leaving me in the midst of enemies. But Dan wouldn’t leave me if I was in danger. I hoped.
Tristan reclaimed my worried attention. “Brandilynn, if you can recover your memory, you may be able to avoid a second encounter with your killer.”
I thought hard, trying to reclaim the events that led to my body being dumped in the woods. Where had I been? Who had I seen? My mind dredged up little tidbits of random life, stupid things like brushing my teeth, drinking coffee, running errands.
Frustrated by my inability to recall anything worthwhile, I said, “I can remember my day-to-day routine of working out, reading the newspaper, getting my hair and nails done and dressing for work, but I couldn’t even tell you the last day I was alive. Maybe if I knew that I could retrace the steps I took that day.”
Tristan glanced at his sister. “Patricia.”
She nodded. “Done.” She started towards one of the big, rich desks, but froze as her gaze moved over the ballroom. In a flat tone she announced, “The Judge is here.”
Tristan looked over my head. His cultured voice held both relief and irritation. “It’s about time he showed up.”
I turned to see the object of their attention, Fulton Falls’ creepiest vampire.
He swept towards us, a gothic horror dressed in black. I noticed how others edged away from him. Even the weregators, known for their fearless brutality when they chose to use it, backed a few steps away. Only one man stood his ground when the Judge swept past him. He never moved an inch back, not even when the vampire’s flapping black cape fluttered over his muscular body. It was enough to take my attention from the 300-year old vampire to check out this unique para.
The man was obviously a were, and it took me a moment to register what flavor: panther. Subtle black markings flecked his dark mocha skin. Fangs peeked out from his sensuous lips. Black-furred triangular ears parted the tight cornrows of braids that swept to the man’s chiseled chest, left bare by a black leather vest. His unafraid but wary stance told me this man was used to being hired muscle. Bodyguard, bouncer, something. His green-gold eyes glowed in his handsome cat man face. I didn’t do the part-time furred anymore than I did vampires, but heavens to mergatroid, what a hottie. Had I come across him in life, I might have broken my hard-and-fast rule against sex with a shifter.
I would have liked to study this yummy specimen a bit more, but the Judge demanded undivided attention. He looked like everything I feared in vampires: cold, menacing, unmerciful. His shoulder-length hair was tied back into a short ponytail with a leather cord. He wore a plain black suit that hung from his spare, almost skeletal body. His dark eyes were deeply shadowed, so much so that with the rest of his face being the typical vampire bluish-white, it resembled a death’s mask. His expression was that of naked hunger, and my stomach curled in on itself to look at it.
I had no doubt the Judge was a monster. His visage of passing humanity only underscored the pitiless predator that lurked beneath.
Besides the werepanther, Patricia and Tristan were the only ones in the room that didn’t shrink from his approach. Her upper lip slightly curled, Patricia even dared to rebuke him. “You’re late.”
The Judge turned frigid, flat eyes on her, eyes that would have made anyone else flinch. To one side, the werepanther mounted the stage and stood near Patricia and Tristan. He gripped one wrist in the opposite hand with a pose of casual w
atchfulness. Definitely a bodyguard. Patricia’s? Lucky girl.
The Judge’s voice surprised me with its melodious lilt. Had I closed my eyes to shut out his appearance, his respectful answer in that lovely voice would have beguiled. “I have been following some leads on the killer.” Then his tone hardened, and his cold, dead fish eyes settled on me. “I hear you found the last victim but her memory has been inconveniently lacking. Is the strumpet present?”
My mouth dropped open at the terror his stare invoked. I hoped Isabella’s bladder control wasn’t dependent on me, because he scared me that bad. Even the most desperate blood groupie wouldn’t feed this ogre. Evil intent radiated off him in waves.
Perhaps my fear showed, because Augustus sidled up to me, putting his golden lion’s body between me and the Judge. Uncaring that it might disrespectful to the ancient creature, I slid my arms around his white-feathered neck, clutching him like the world’s most unlikely teddy bear. For a wonder, my grip didn’t slide through his body though the griffin was a live entity. Perhaps he existed on both planes? He’d seen Dan, after all.
The griffin’s warmth steadied me, and I considered reminding the Judge of his manners for all of a second. Patricia’s slight head shake wasn’t necessary. No way I’d open my mouth to sass this brute.
Tristan’s tone gently rebuked the Judge for me. “Brandilynn is traumatized. Don’t let your prejudice against her line of work upset her any worse.”
Patricia gave me a grin, and I saw she enjoyed baiting the elder vampire. I began to like Tristan’s sister despite myself. “You must excuse the Judge’s bad manners, Brandilynn. He is from a time when women were wrongly treated like property instead of equals.”
Tristan shot her a warning glance before smoothly redirecting the conversation. “What are these leads you were following, my friend?”
To my relief, the Judge turned his gaze from me. “They were nothing, but thoroughness will eventually lead us to the executioner.” Then he looked at me again, and I squeezed Augustus’ neck some more. It was a wonder the poor thing didn’t choke.
“You have no memory at all?” the Judge asked.
“None.” I wondered how someone so undeniably frightening could have such an enthralling voice. What a waste. It would have been more fitting for Augustus to possess it.
The ancient monster looked at me, as much as he could see of me hiding behind the griffin. “So the killer was just another client for you. Nothing remarkable about him?” He came closer, and I fought the urge to duck behind Augustus.
“I don’t do vampires. He wouldn’t have been a regular client.”
The Judge sneered at me, and his long, yellowed fangs were very much in evidence. God, I wished Isabella would take over her body so I could get the heck out of here. “A slut with standards. What a refreshing piece of vermin. In my day you would have been whipped until the skin hung from your flesh in tatters.” His bloodless white tongue, looking like a slimy slug, ran over his thin lips. “Perhaps such methods would help you recover your memories. They would at least cleanse your diseased soul a little.”
A small spark of my self-esteem lit, and though my voice came out weak I still managed to say, “Yeah, well I’m sure you think I got what I deserved. Death is a pretty good punishment, isn’t it?”
He grinned, and that’s when I felt tears forming in my eyes. “It’s a start.”
Tristan growled, “Enough, Judge. You will keep your opinions to yourself.”
The elder vampire’s eyes turned completely black for an instant, but he bowed his head in acquiescence. “As you wish, Tristan. But perhaps when coddling fails to yield results, you will concede some creatures respond better to more forceful means.”
I gasped when Tristan flashed fangs at him. “She’s the victim. I won’t have her hurt any worse than she’s already endured.” He brought his sudden burst of anger under control with effort. “Continue working on finding the killer. Lana will give you the location they found the body.”
The Judge bowed again. He showed no temper to Tristan at all this time, making me wonder how he’d managed to be lassoed by a vampire two hundred years his junior.
Tristan stepped down, taking my arm. “Come, Brandilynn. I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”
I knew he had to feel me trembling as he guided me out of the ballroom.
When we reached the hall, the dual realities of the King George’s past and present reasserted themselves. It gave me a sense of vertigo, and I staggered against the vampire at my side. Tristan steadied me, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other holding my upper arm.
“My apologies for the Judge,” he murmured, his honeyed voice soothing despite the coldness behind it. “He is not pleasant to women but his ability to get to the truth is unmatched.”
I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. “I’d rather not speak to him again if it’s all the same to you. Just because I’ve done unsavory things doesn’t mean my feelings don’t get hurt.”
Tristan’s hand tightened on my arm. “Yes, well if sex was a crime, the Judge would be the only one not a million times convicted. He has the most self-control of our kind. Vampires’ hungers usually run the gamut.”
“Sex and blood, huh?” I managed not to shudder. Dan had warned me, after all.
The animal growl that preceded his next words drew the shudder out of me after all. “Too bad I can’t show you, but it would hardly be fair to Isabella to use her body for such things. I’d enjoy sharing with you the pleasures of being consumed in all ways possible.”
I stiffened, and Isabella’s heart quickened. “The attraction is one-sided, I’m afraid. You’re fun as a ghost, but too different as a vampire for me to consider giving myself that way.”
Tristan chuckled, as if he knew better. “You fear me in this guise, do you? It’s that spark of terror that makes blood sharing so intense. It’s the ultimate submission, Brandilynn.”
I wanted to run, but I feared he might chase me. “You’re freaking me out, Tristan.”
“Of course I am. Hunger makes a man a little more on edge, and I. Am. Always. Hungry.” He said that last with emphasis, low in my ear.
Before my terror could spike higher, I felt shoved within the body I occupied. I grunted at the force and staggered, falling against Tristan who kept me upright. “Whoa, what’s happening?”
“Isabella’s body is pushing you out. Once you’re evicted, I won’t be able to see or hear you until I’m dead again.” We reached the lobby, and he stopped us, turning me so that I had to do what I’d been avoiding in the hall — face him. Tristan’s dark eyes held me like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. “Try hard in the meantime to remember who killed you. Did Dan leave already?”
My voice sounded far away to me. “Yes he—” Another hard shove jerked my gaze from Tristan’s. “Oh! This isn’t fun,” I griped. “At least I don’t need an exorcist to get out of here.”
He quirked a smile. “No, you’ve not possessed Isabella. You’re just channeling through her.”
“There’s a difference? Ow!”
A dull pain reverberated through me, and I went tumbling to the floor despite Tristan’s support. I looked up to find myself at his and Isabella’s feet. I was free.
“Jeez, there’s gotta be a better way to do this stuff,” I said, picking myself up off the floor.
Two nearby Confederate soldiers gave me gracious hands up. “Clothes, miss,” one said, pointing out I’d burst from my host naked.
“Aw man!” I quickly covered myself in a very concealing kimono, white silk with delicate birds in the design. I’d had my eye on such a piece on a designer’s webpage. “Thanks, gentlemen,” I mumbled, blushing.
With bright appreciative grins, they bowed and stepped away.
Behind me Tristan asked, “Isabella, are you all right?”
I turned to see her sway slightly. “Just a little dizzy. Did it go okay?”
“You were wonderful as always.” He tu
rned to a werehog I hadn’t noticed following us out of the ballroom. Too creeped out by Tristan’s vampiric urges, I guess. “Eddie, would you see Isabella safely to the surface and her car?”
Eddie the werehog snuffled through his snout. “Yes sir.” He escorted Isabella to the grand entrance doors and Tristan turned and hurried back towards the ballroom, leaving me standing by myself.
“So that’s it for me?” No answer. I was invisible and silent to Tristan now, who had already made it halfway down the hall. “Great. How am I supposed to get back to the library?”
Well, I could walk. It would be quite a haul, and though I wasn’t physically tired, a deep weariness consumed me. I didn’t want to walk. “No ghost cabs, I suppose.”
Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy Page 9