by Calinda B
Chia froze, poised mid-step, one foot several inches from the floor, the other balanced on her toes. “Will you please unfreeze me, you jackass?” If her muscles worked, she’d have jerked, startled. The words emerged without her having to move her mouth or jaw.
“Not until you tell me what gave you pause a second ago. There’s something whirling around in your puny human brain you don’t want me to know.”
“You’re the vampire. You figure it out.” She stared straight ahead, eyes unable to move, realizing even her ghosts were frozen. Well, that’s kind of cool, she mused. As translucent, colorful, shimmering wisps of energy, they looked like beautiful, crystalline Christmas ornaments, suspended in the air.
As for herself, she felt her heart beat, heard herself breathing, but nothing, not a single muscle seemed under her command. This has got to be one of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced. She didn’t feel tired. More like bewildered at being unable to move. “Come on, D, let me go.”
“Not until you’ve told me what you don’t want me to know.” He used that tone, the evil vamp tone that made her blood grow cold.
“What if I don’t want to?” Her head turned in his direction, but not because she willed it. Oh, this is weird. I don’t like this, not one bit.
“What if you don’t have a choice? Which one of us can truly make the other dead, hmmm?” He finished his glass of bloody claret and turned to glare at her, his eyes still glowing from the magic he’d performed on her. “You merely threaten. I follow through.”
The look made her feel ice cold inside.
“Tell you what. If you confide in me, I’ll help you with your ghosts. I might have a suggestion or two, if you tell me why they hang around you all the time.”
If she could move her face, she’d have scrunched it up with apprehension. “Oh, super choices, D. I get to not only tell you something that’s going to make you howl, I get to share my worst, most private secrets.” It’s fricking freaky to speak while the lips aren’t moving.
“I don’t howl, my pet. Wolves and shifters howl. And Sultana when she’s in the throes of ecstasy.” An elegant shoulder rose and fell. “Your choice, child.” He rose with languid grace, then paused. “Guess I’ll get on with my date sooner, rather than later.”
If she had any control, her eyebrows would have risen and her eyes would widen. Instead, she simply stared straight ahead, lips parted. Shit! She might already be dead! “What if I merely sketch out a few facts about the ghosts? No real details?”
He brought a long finger to his perfect lips and tapped, thoughtful. “I need details about two of them. Then, we have a deal. That’s after you tell me your other secret.”
Hmmm. He might be so pissed, he’ll forget about the ghosts. “Okay, deal.”
His eyes stopped glowing and her foot landed with a hard thwack on the floor. She stumbled as motor control was restored.
D’Raynged strode toward the kitchen.
“Asshole,” she muttered, when he was out of earshot.
“Excellent hearing, don’t forget,” he said from the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Glass of wine? Tea?”
“Wine, please.” Her feet dragged as she tromped to the sofa. He’s going to kill me, kill Hung. Then, I won’t have to deal with losing my job. I can hang out with my ghosts and haunt someone else. Good plan.
D’Raynged emerged from the kitchen a short time later, holding one of her grandma’s silver trays bearing another goblet of his translucent red beverage, a glass of wine for her along with the rest of the bottle, cheese, and crackers. “Your refrigerator lacks sustenance. This is all I could find. You look…” He lifted an eyebrow and studied her. “Peckish. Yes, that’s the word. You look rather peckish.”
“If that means pissed, frustrated, this horrible day keeps going on and on and on, I’m with you on that.”
“More like famished, haggard, emaciated…”
“Okay, all right.” Chia put her hand up to silence him. “Point taken. And thank you for the food.” She reached for the glass of wine from the tray he extended, and set it next to her, before taking a few crackers and cheese. What she really wanted was to pour the entire glass of wine down her throat in one gulp, refill, and repeat. Instead, she nibbled on the cracker, trying to appear polite while her mind schemed. “What’s that you’re drinking? I’ve never seen you drink anything.” She glanced at her crotch, spying the split seam. Quickly, she grabbed a sofa throw to pull over her lap, thinking, Dag nab it. Another pair of pants, destroyed. Dealing with shifters on a daily basis had its side effects—namely, sharp claws.
D’Raynged sat in the armchair opposite her. The scene could very well be from the Gone with the Wind movie, all genteel sensibility and politeness. If D’Raynged bore a mustache, Chia thought he’d look like Rhett Butler’s blond haired brother.
“This,” he held up his glass of red to the lamp light, causing it to sparkle and shimmer. “This is a human serum and plasma mixture, along with other ingredients. Some friends and I are experimenting with something that could serve as a pick me up between feedings, and not alert others in social settings as to whom they’re breaking bread with.” A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s important to blend in.”
“You don’t have to worry about such things in Charming. I’ve made it a safe, Switzerland kind of place.” Her chest puffed with pride.
He looked down his nose at her. “You honestly don’t think I spend all my time in this quaint town, do you? Child, I could be in Anchorage, like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And truly, my kind has to worry about being discovered all the time. We’re not safe anywhere. Your kind, even the shifters, fear us. The mere fact you’ve managed to make it somewhat safe is truly commendable.” He sipped his beverage, swishing the mouthful back and forth before swallowing, regarding her coolly.
“Thank you,” she said, brightly, feeling pleased by the compliment.
“That’s why I appreciate you allowing me to rent a room from you. Not that I enjoy the state of cleanliness, or lack thereof.” He arched an elegant eyebrow and cast a look of disdain at their surroundings.
“I see. And, you’re welcome.” Her eyes swept back and forth, too. “I’ll clean it, I promise. I need to rest a moment and then, I’ll get to work.” Trying to buy time, she said, “So the ghosts aren’t really ghosts, not, like the spirit of dead people. They’re combined energy from certain acts I’ve done in this life. Acts I’m not proud of.
“They’re sort of like the offspring between me and the person or persons I had the encounter with. I have no idea why I have them and other people don’t. It’s not like I’m the only person who ever did anything wrong. People commit foul acts daily. Every minute of every hour something is occurring, you know?”
She realized her words were flying out like she’d snorted cocaine or ingested speed—not that she’d ever tried those substances…okay, once or twice at a party. “That one over there,” she pointed at one of them. “He represents the worst thing I ever did sexually. I took revenge on someone using his body.” Her face grew warm and sweaty as she regarded it. “And that one? That came from something I did in absolute rage. He…the guy…he didn’t deserve it.”
The vampire’s face grew so cold, Chia almost yelped. “What? What did I say?”
“You’re trying to distract me. I don’t care about your ghostly bursts of energy at the moment. What I care about is your secret. Then, we’ll get to your trivia.”
She let out a long, low breath. Dag nab it. Goddamn Hung Durand. He’s a thorn in my side where I’d rather have him be a…
“I’m waiting. Patience is growing thin, however. I’d say you have about three seconds left.” He looked at an imaginary wristwatch. “Three, two…”
“Okay, okay, okay. Hung’s next hit is Sultana.”
The room grew so still Chia wondered if D’Raynged had done one of his magic freeze thingies. She wiggled her toes. Nope, they’re still under my command.
He b
urst out laughing.
She smiled, confused.
“You’re such a winsome kidder, Chia. Surely you jest.”
“That’s me, always joking around,” she said. Could I really be off the hook so easily? She reached for her glass and took a long, long swallow of wine.
“So what’s the real secret?” the vampire said, after regaining his composure.
“Um,” she said, her mind whirling. “Red and Dick want to eradicate all shifters in this town. Red wants my job.”
“You told me that bit of news earlier in the day.” D’Raynged drained his glass of liquid, appearing unperturbed.
“Not the part about eradicating shifters. I only got that news this afternoon. I even saw it for myself. One of my…” She looked away, a sudden bout of grief capturing her heart.
“A friend, am I right?”
She nodded, unwilling to speak or even look at him, lest she lose it and start crying.
“It’s difficult to lose someone you care about,” D’Raynged said, in a flat tone.
“Yes,” she agreed, sniffling, growing suspicious about his comments.
“Harder still when there are not that many of your kind around. Not that many who catch your fancy, I should say. Like the fellow who walked out this morning. A lover, right?”
She lifted her head and met his cool, calculating stare. “Right,” she said, eyes narrowed. “So you agree with me about the lack of fun fish in Charming?”
Ignoring her question, he asked, “And you enjoyed him, true?”
“True enough. We had a good time.”
“As evidenced by…” He swept his arm in a half circle, indicating the tequila, joint, beer bottles, and other assorted remains.
“I was sorry to see him go. I thought we clicked…sort of. In a ‘we had to get drunk or high to enjoy one another’ kind of way. But he left because of you,” she blurted.
“People leave for all sorts of reasons. Some of them might go away. Some of them might be killed.” He shrugged.
She stiffened, waiting for him to make his chilling point.
“My point is, when you lose someone you care about…” He turned his green eyes on her. “You might do something you wouldn’t normally do. Say, out of grief.”
“Like what might that be? And who are we talking about?”
He picked imaginary lint from his pale shirt. “That depends on whether or not the loss could have been prevented.”
“What are you saying, D?”
“I’m saying, you’re a terrible liar and if I lose Sultana, I don’t know what might happen in your little town. Switzerland might turn into Somalia. A blood bath.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Chia said, defeated, her mood falling into sub-zero territory.
“Not dignifying that with an answer,” he said.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take care of it, what else? You’re a bright and courageous woman. I’d suggest you get a move on. My date commences in an hour.”
Her cheeks puffed with air and she let it out slowly. “So much for a bubble bath, huh?” She got to her feet, feeling like she weighed two tons. “Did you even want to hear about my ghosts?”
“Not really, not tonight. I might, though in the future. It depends on your outcome tonight. If things go well for you, I may be quite generous with my advice. I suspect it has something to do with your skills in isolating your emotions.”
“You mean not dealing with them, as in denial.”
“You say denial, I say isolating.” D’Raynged swished his hand back and forth. “It all serves a purpose of allowing you to do your practical, boring job rather than live a life of passion.”
“Fuck off, D. Leave me and my passion out of the conversation.”
“As you wish.” He sipped his serum mixture.
She poured the rest of her wine down her throat, refilled, and repeated her actions, the effect of the alcohol already hitting her system.
“You’re going to go out drunk?”
“I think well when I’m drunk.”
D’Raynged scoffed. “I seriously doubt that. You’re putting yourself and others in harm’s way if you try operating a motor vehicle.”
“Do you want to drive me around?”
He rolled his eyes.
“There’s no one on this road for miles. When I get to town, I’ll walk.”
“Whatever. It’s your life. And no, I won’t be your maker. I don’t want something like that on my conscience.”
“Do you even have a conscience? Never mind, I don’t care. I’m out of here.”
“Do you have any kind of plan?”
“Not really. Still planless.” Other than pleasuring myself with Hung Durand before making him dead. She got to her feet, weaving slightly as the wine shook the sense from her system. For good measure, she seized the bottle and poured a glug down her gullet. “Where do you suppose a bounty hunter would go for the evening?”
“A bounty hunter has three objectives—eat, fuck, and kill or capture, not in any particular order. Rather, the order is served by the day and the duty. Those should be fairly simple to discern. You know he can’t be seen in public to do any of the three, so that should narrow things even further.”
“You’re kidding, right? Once you hit town’s edge, it’s a literal wilderness out there.” She waved her hand angrily at the windows feeling both peeved at the task ahead, and jealous at the thought of Hung in some other woman’s bed. “How do you know he hasn’t already accomplished his mission, huh? I could be heading out on a fruitless mission when I could be taking a bubble bath.”
A mirthless smile crossed his face. “Let’s hope that isn’t the case. For your sake, as well as for your townspeople. All of this could be so simple if you didn’t have your silly restrictions and protections on shifters and bounty hunters. I could take care of everything.” He snapped his fingers. “And get a filling meal in the process. Now, if you’ll excuse me…wait.”
“What?” she said, glumly.
“Hasn’t it crossed your mind that Red and Dick…aren’t those the names you used?”
“Yes.”
“Hasn’t it crossed your mind that the Red Spotted Dick plans on violating your city ordinances? Sounds like they’ve already begun.”
She almost laughed at the phrase Red Spotted Dick but weariness took over. I’m going to have to use that. “Yeah, well, you know how long it takes to intervene when government gets in the way. And Joseph, the regional manager, has an election coming up. The laws were only made by me, one handshake at a time. That’s why they’ve worked so well. But an election, a new person in office, and my rules are dust.” She ran a hand through her pink frosted hair. “This sucks. And, you’re part of the sucking, asshole.”
“I should hope so,” he said, lightly. “Sucking and biting is something I do very well. Now, shouldn’t you be on your way?”
Chapter Seven
“Good luck,” D’Raynged called cheerily from his perch on the sofa. He lifted a hand, not bothering to look up from the magazine he read.
“Fuck you, too,” she answered. She heard his chuckle as she slammed the door. Chia marched out to the barn, a small flashlight in her hand, her ghosts resting benignly along her body like layers of silvery ectoplasm. Or, maybe they’re tipsy like me. She needed two things—to check on the confiscated steel body and leg traps she’d taken from every citizen who owned one, and get more bullets for her gun. Maybe grab another gun or two. She flicked on the outdoor lights as she opened the front door, illuminating her frigid surroundings.
She stomped…okay, more like staggered out to the barn, slipping and sliding. Once housing her grandparent’s livestock, the large, well-made wood and brick structure, shadowed from overhead branches bare of leaves at this time of year, stood to the side of the driveway.
Leaning against the door to steady herself, she jammed the penlight between her teeth and hefted the sturdy lock she used to protect the space. Sure
enough, one side of the rugged shackle had been sliced, making it appear secure.
Instead, the entire lock pivoted in her gloved hand. “Dag nab it,” Chia uttered. She removed the padlock, threw it into the stand of trees, and opened the barn door. Her tools stood neatly against the wall. Her snowmobile sat at the far end of the long barn. Her metal gun case loomed in the corner, and it appeared to be locked tight. “They would have had to use dynamite to get in there,” she said, her words sounding a little slurred. She peered inside one of the stalls that used to house horses, and sure enough, all of the traps she’d confiscated were gone, gone, gone. “Goddamn it,” she swore. “Goddamn Red Spotted Dick.”
She strode to the gun case, entered the combination in the lock and the door swung open easily. She retrieved bullets, along with a Nosler, her favorite rifle. She held it at eye level, imagined viewing Hung through the scope and pretended to shoot it. “Wham! Right between the eyes.”
She knew she was a good shot, even on her worst days, like today. She’d even competed in some of the local shooting contests Charming held each year and won, much to the chagrin of the male contestants. They made up endless excuses as to why she won and they didn’t. She locked the gun case, made a mental note to buy a new lock for the barn door, and tromped to her SUV, growing used to the sloshing sensation in her head resulting from slamming the wine.
Focusing hard, she managed to maneuver the Jeep along the slick, arctic road. She paused at a crossroads. “Which way would a bounty hunter like Hung go, if hunting a vampire, looking for food, or seeking a good fuck?” She blushed, thinking herself as good a fuck as any, probably better. “Hormones are hormones,” she mumbled, in her defense. “And preferences are preferences. And he fits my ideal male…sort of…at least in the physical department.”
She grimaced, chiding herself at wanting to have anything remotely sexual to do with Hung Durand. “I barely know the guy. I don’t know much about him except that he rolls through town when he has business here.” Her fingers played along the edge of the steering wheel, as she stared into the starry night sky. “Hmmm. There’s a little known hangout for one of the arcane clans outside of town a couple miles. That’s a start. Maybe one of the shifters knows where he is?”