A Very Paranormal Holiday

by J. T. Bock

  “While I find it very flattering that you trapped me in this elevator and tried to manipulate me – maybe even seduce me a little – in the hopes it would give whatever low grade, inferior scanner you no doubt have in your bag enough time to upload files from my laptop, I should’ve probably told you right from the start that my laptop is protected by software I developed myself – and scanning it is one hundred percent impossible.”

  “It was the accent, right?” Cat interjected, all trace of the French having vanished from her speech completely.

  “Yeah, the tears were a bit over the top, but the fake accent was kind of growing on me. I’m sure it works on ninety-nine point nine percent of the computer nerds you use it on, but I’m not exactly your usual computer techie.”

  “I’m beginning to see that, Mr. Thurman,” Cat replied with a smirk. “You continue to amaze me – and I mean that sincerely. Or as sincerely as a jaded, shallow, manipulative…how did you describe it… baby-sitter… can be,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Out of curiosity, what files of mine were you after specifically?” Moused asked.

  “Oh nothing too classified. Just the files pertaining to the security upgrades you implemented today at Wainwrights. My delusional House Master keeps selling off Family heirlooms of intrinsic value, and then forgets he did it. Convinced he’s been robbed, he tasks Claude and me with stealing them back. In other words, it’ll be up to me to come up with some sort of plan as to how to get the job done. If I wait a few months, Henri will probably forget all about the mission – he usually does. But Claude won’t.”

  “I look forward to your attempt. I’m always thinking of ways to improve our systems, and while the humans that purchase them don’t know it, I account for thieves of the supernatural variety – which just makes my job a little bit more interesting. Maybe you’ll find some weakness in the system I overlooked.”

  “But that’s not likely, is it?” Cat asked with a smile.

  “Nope,” Moused smiled back. “If anyone can beat my system, it might be you though. But tell me, why didn’t you just hit me over the head and take my computer when I first came into the elevator?”

  “Please, Mousey. Give me some credit. That was Claude’s idea. I’d like to think I have a little more finesse than that. What would be the fun in knocking you out? Oh, and also I’m sure you have some high-tech, self-imploding, password protection on that laptop far beyond a retinal scan or fingerprint – am I right?”

  Moused’s reply took the form of an all-knowing smirk.

  “Where is Claude, by the way?” he asked when it was apparent he had no intention of answering her direct question about his computer protection software.

  “I convinced him he had to wait in the car for me. He is, after all, the best getaway driver in town.”

  “Or at least that’s what you told him,” Moused laughed. “How did you get past Charles at the security check-in desk?”

  “A girl has to have some secrets, Mr. Thurman,” Cat said coyly.

  “What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Why Mr. Thurman. Are you asking me out on a date? Isn’t tomorrow Christmas?”

  “Yes…and yes. I’m taking the jet out to Nevada to spend Christmas day with that Nowhere Pack you’ve heard so much about. How would you like to meet them?”

  “Let me guess, your House Masters, Hendrick and Oscar are going to be there too, aren’t they? And it’s really them you want me to meet.”

  “You’re not just a pretty face, are you?”

  “Will Reyes be there too?”

  “Probably not.” Definitely not, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “I’ll let you know later, my highly amusing, extremely intriguing and very interesting new young friend,” she said with a wink as she pressed the button that would return them to the Lobby.

  Moused had only just made it to his feet when the elevator stopped on the ground floor and the doors opened. In two swift moves, faster than the eye could see, Cat had him out and under the mistletoe Moused had been rolling his eyes at almost an hour ago. Pulling him to her she kissed him hard and deep – and then she was gone. The sound of her laughter and the click-clack of her heels echoed across the marble and from around the corner as she exited the building and the only thing left behind was the lingering smell of her perfume in the air and on his clothes.

  Shaking his head to rid it of the momentary daze and uncharacteristic stupor her actions had caused, Moused stepped back into the elevator and pressed the forty-fifth floor again.

  'Tis the season to be jolly, Fa la la la la la la la!

  Don we now our gay apparel, Fa la la la la la la la!

  Without even noticing he was doing it, Moused began to hum along with Deck the Halls, which was currently playing above him. He was still humming it under his breath as he made his way into his office a few minutes later. As soon as the door closed behind him he pressed the side of his glasses to call Hendrick.

  “Calling again so soon? What happened?”

  “Catrionella Monsignac just attempted a cyber-heist, boss.”

  “Are you all right, Moused? Was it your new cyborg-vamp chip she was after, as you thought?”

  “I’m fine. And did you just call it the cyborg-vamp chip?” Moused asked with a laugh.

  “Focus, Moused.”

  “Yes, sorry. She was most definitely after the chip. She played it like she was only looking for security files for the Wainwright installation and even fed me some story about retrieving Family artifacts – but she was without a doubt looking for the chip. She asked about Reyes just a hint too much.”

  “Hmm. So she knows a little more than the fact the chip exists. She also knows its destination. How do you think she found out about it?”

  “We have a leak. A low level one is my guess. Everyone else has too much riding on it. Regardless, why don’t you ask her yourself tomorrow night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I invited her to Christmas dinner at the Balak’s tomorrow.”

  There was a brief pause as Hendrick took in this information.

  “Let me get this straight. An Enforcer for an enemy vampire House – and now confirmed cyber-terrorist – is coming to Christmas dinner with our wolf allies, the Nowhere Pack… as your… date.”

  “Yes, boss. And it’s less ‘terrorist’ and more ‘thief.’ It sure does sound like fun, doesn’t it? Finally, a Christmas I’m looking forward to!”

  There was another long pause from Hendrick’s end.

  “Are you rolling your eyes, boss?”

  “You and Reyes will be the death…nevermind. I’m going to call the Balaks and tell them to expect another person for dinner.”

  “Before you go,” Moused interjected, “can you please get me the number for Reyes’ tailor? Does he work late on Christmas Eve, do you know?”

  There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the line before Moused heard the click of Hendrick hanging up on him.

  Chapter 3

  Catrionella Toussaint-Monsignac crossed the street and climbed into the older, slightly outdated, model Mercedes-Benz parked and waiting for her.

  “What took you so long, Cat? Did he give you any trouble? I can take care of him, sis, if you need me to.”

  “No, my darling,” Cat said, squeezing her brother’s arm gently as he started up the engine. “He was no trouble at all. I wasn’t able to upload the files though, unfortunately.”

  “What? You said it would work. Why do you never listen to me? We should’ve just killed him.” Claude’s voice came out as a petulant whine. “What’s Uncle Henri going to say now? You should’ve let me take care of the human Retinue, Catty-cakes.”

  Cat’s head snapped around to face her brother.

  “You’re not to touch him, Claude. Do you hear me? This isn’t going to be another one of your… accidents… that will need to be cleaned up. There will be no chainsaw, no axe, no nail-gun – or any other power tool that I can�
��t think of at the moment. Do you understand, Claude?”

  “You like him, don’t you?” Claude said in a low, menacing, voice. “This is going to be like Quentin all over again, isn’t it?”

  “How many times did I tell you that I was not interested in your bodyguard, my love,” Cat said soothingly as she tenderly tucked a strand of white-blond hair behind his ear.

  “I saw the way Quentin looked at you…”

  “Yes, but I never looked at him the same way, did I?”

  “Liar!” Claude screamed; spittle from his mouth hitting the windshield in front of him; his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

  “Calm down, my darling,” Cat said in a mollifying tone. “You have nothing to worry about, my love. It’s you and me, just like it’s always been – like it always will be. Take a deep breath and focus on the road, okay?”

  “You’ll never leave me, will you Cat?”

  “No, never my love.”

  Stroking the top of his thigh that was nearest to her, Cat began to relax her tensed body as soon as she saw her brother’s begin to do the same.

  “How are we going to get the files, Catty-cakes?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, my darling. I’ll think of something. I always do, don’t I?”

  “Yeah, you do,” Claude said, his lips forming a smile for the first time since she entered the car.

  As Claude negotiated the lighter traffic along the Westside Highway, Cat thought about Moused’s dinner invitation for tomorrow. It wouldn’t be easy getting away from Claude – not impossible though.

  No matter what her Uncle said, a House that was rumored to be experimenting with such advanced neuromechanical technologies had to be able to develop something that could help Claude. Her uncle might be a strong disbeliever and her brother might not know exactly what files she was after – but Cat was a woman determined. Claude’s obsession with her, as well as his dismemberment fetish, had grown much, much worse over the last decade or so.

  And it was all her fault.

  If only she hadn’t asked for his help when she was married off to that disgusting old pervert a century ago. Albert Monsignac was Claude’s first kill – and he did it for her. She thought it his first and last. It wasn’t until they’d both been Turned by their Uncle in order to preserve the bloodline of the Family, that she found out Claude had developed urges he was unable to control. Her brother was a deranged killer and their uncle had given him immortality. It was all her fault.

  Yes, the Segher technology was her absolute last hope to ‘fix’ her psychotic brother. No overly-smart, extremely astute, devilishly cute and completely adorable computer hacker was going to stand in her way. Not if she could help it.

  “I need you to do something very important for me tomorrow, Claude. I need you to stay with Uncle Henri all day and keep a careful eye on him. Can you do that for me?”

  “Why? Where are you going to be, Catty?”

  “I have to go meet with some people about how I can get those files from the Seghers. I’ll be gone for most of the day and won’t be home until really late, okay?”

  “Why can’t I come with you?”

  “You know why, my love. You don’t do well in social settings and I really need to make sure I treat these people with kid gloves, understand? I also really need you to keep an eye on Uncle. You know how he gets around the holidays and I want to make sure he’s not alone.”

  “Is he going with you?” Claude’s menacing tone had returned.

  “Who, the Ret? No, no, take a deep breath. It’ll be boring and long and I’ll miss you every minute of the day, I promise.”

  “If I find out you’re lying to me, Catty-cakes, I won’t just cut off his head, but I’ll take yours too. You know that, right?”

  “I know that, brother dear. I know that very well.”

  And a very Merry Christmas to me, Cat thought as the car finally pulled up outside the Toussaint Family’s brownstone.

  THE END

  For more information about the author or the series, please visit www.jcmells.com or sign up for her newsletter here.

  Interested to know how it all started? Read PIERCED, Book 1 of the Pierced Series.

  A CHRISTMAS FERAL

  A CAUTIONARY SEASONAL TALE

  A Short Story By

  Connie Suttle

  Chapter 1

  Seattle

  December 2015

  Cassie

  He was a pig. My boss, that is, but calling him a pig was probably an insult to pigs everywhere, including the wild, dangerous kind. If I didn't need my job, and I mean really need my job, I'd have left months ago. That's when my boss' wife left him and he turned his lascivious attentions to me.

  Geoffrey Gruber, the man who'd made my life hell for nine months, was short, squarely built, balding and a pig. A nearsighted pig on top of that. His nearsighted gaze was focused (unfortunately) on me, most of the time.

  I'd met his wife when I started working for Geoffrey—she was nice and probably on a short list for sainthood somewhere, just for putting up with him so long. She was now in the process of divorcing him and when he wasn't complaining about what she might get out of him in the divorce, he was making sexual innuendos, most of them aimed in my direction.

  I cursed the day I was promoted to be his personal assistant. I'd read an article somewhere that said some married men didn't know how to be alone—that they needed someone. It was the reason many widowers married again shortly after the death of their spouse. My opinion was this; if Geoffrey Gruber required someone to herd him around, he should get a border collie.

  "The copier is out of toner," Annabelle Taylor, Geoffrey's associate at Gruber, Taylor and Worth, said as she sailed past my desk. With hair loosely swept into a bun, thighs swishing in a too-tight pencil skirt and too many buttons undone on her blouse, she looked ready for a role-playing event as the sexy schoolmarm.

  Annabelle had a personal assistant, but Jeremy had been hired strictly as eye-candy for Annabelle. I figured if he had half a brain, he'd realize that. As it was, he was great at sharpening pencils. Changing a toner cartridge was outside his personal skill set.

  That meant I did his work and mine, too. Couple that with Geoffrey's unwelcome attentions and my anxiety meter ran constantly on high.

  "Oh," Annabelle tossed over her shoulder, "Parke Worth, old man Worth's son, is coming in tomorrow to take over his father's part of the business." I knew, just as Annabelle did, that Parke Worth had inherited two-thirds of the business. She and Geoffrey shared a third between them.

  Harmon Worth, Parke's father, had died unexpectedly a year earlier, leaving a gaping hole in the business. Worth had been the best attorney of the three, so I secretly found it humorous that Geoffrey's wife had hired someone better than her soon-to-be-ex to handle her part of the divorce.

  Parke, Harmon's only son, worked at a law firm in D.C. when his father died and had cases to tie up before returning to Seattle and his father's business. I'd never met him—or Harmon. I'd arrived during the gap in between. I figured, too, that Parke was returning two weeks before Christmas so he could spend time with family.

  I hoped Parke wasn't as insufferable as Geoffrey or Annabelle. If he were, I'd be forced to look for another job. I knew as well as anyone that nobody wanted to hire a paralegal or personal assistant over the holidays, and there was no way I'd survive without a paycheck.

  "I'll get the toner cartridge changed immediately," I called out while hauling the supply cabinet key from a desk drawer. Standing stiffly, I realized I hadn't moved for nearly three hours while preparing a brief for Geoffrey's latest case.

  Annabelle's office door closed with a snap and no acknowledgement. I hadn't really expected a thank-you, and likely would have fainted if she'd said it. Five minutes later, with a new toner cartridge installed and a cup of coffee in my hand, I returned to my desk to find someone sitting there.

  I froze. He wasn't handsome in any traditional sense, but that didn't
keep my radar from pinging. This guy intrigued me.

  A lot.

  "Hello," I said, setting the coffee cup on my desk and smiling at the man who'd commandeered my workspace.

  "Have you drank from that?" he nodded at my disposable cup.

  "Not yet," I said, wondering why he'd asked.

  "Thanks." He lifted my cup and downed half of it, scalding heat and all.

  "Uh," I was temporarily at a loss, "you're welcome?"

  "Good answer. I'm Parke Worth. Sorry for stealing your coffee," he said, setting the cup down and standing before extending his hand. I took it and afterward I could have sworn it made my hand tingle before he let me go.

  "That's all right, I can get more. Coffee." I pointed vaguely behind me, hoping it was in the general direction of the break room. "I just made a fresh pot," I babbled. "If you need more."

  "No, I just needed something to drink," he shrugged. "Is Geoffrey in?"

  "He's in court this afternoon. Annabelle is in her office." She'd also told me Parke was scheduled to arrive the following day.

  Not today.

  "Does she have an assistant?" Parke asked, turning to look down the hall toward Annabelle's office.

  "She does. His name is Jeremy. You may have to explain who you are," I said. "Twice."

  "Doesn't he have a paralegal certificate?" Parke asked with a frown.

  "I doubt he can read one, let alone qualify," I replied. "He's nice enough," I added with a shrug. I had no idea why I was telling Parke the truth—that was out of character for me.

  "How long has Jeremy worked here?"

  "Three months. The paralegal Annabelle had before that quit. He was good." I bit my tongue before admitting that he was gay and Annabelle tried to sleep with him. He turned her down and left the next day.