Blood Moon_A novel of the Paramortals

by Livia Quinn

  Gliding to a stop at the old mission church just after one, she was met by an unfamiliar brunette in khaki shorts and a red striped tank top, who approached her with a smile. The woman introduced herself to Tempe as "Diane" and said she'd be moving to the neighborhood soon. She'd pointed in the general direction of some unfinished houses.

  "I was wondering if I could borrow your phone. My contractor hasn't shown up to finish my driveway and install my mailbox, and unfortunately, I left my cell at home."

  "No problem," Tempe said and handed her the phone. "Take your time. I have some reorganizing to do anyway." While the woman walked over to the grassy lawn in front of the church and used her hands to illustrate her displeasure with the contractor, Tempe pulled packages from the bed of the truck and placed them inside her cab in order of delivery as she often did before proceeding to the north side for the last half of her route.

  Returning a few minutes later, Diane handed Tempe her phone. "Thanks. Appears we'll be moving in about three weeks—one week later than expected."

  "Construction always takes longer than you hope," Tempe sympathized, as she accepted the phone and headed out of the subdivision. It was looking like she'd finish the route early, then she could go home and dress for her date with Jack. She was mentally going through her closet, trying to choose the right outfit—dress or jeans?—when she noticed a woman standing on the curb with arms folded, one foot tapping, and groaned.

  Planning her wardrobe would have to wait. Right now, there was the Queen of the Hummingbirds to deal with. So close and yet so far…

  The brand-new mailbox looked like something out of a Disney movie or Stephen King. It was a tri-level bird extravaganza slash mail receptacle, though Tempe doubted the mail would get priority. The queen bee herself was waiting beside the monstrosity. "Tippy," she said with a nod, her silver curls never budging under the shiny lacquer.

  "Tempe," she corrected the woman, who waved her hand as if to say, Whatever.

  "I need to give you instructions on where to put the mail and how to use the flags on my new box," said Mrs. Abercrombie. Flags. Plural.

  Tempe mentally scratched her head and hoped the video cam was running. Wasn't she supposed to be instructing the customer about how her mailbox was supposed to be used by law to receive and dispense mail? She'd been 'instructed' before by this customer to leave the flag, which was actually the beak of a metal hummingbird decoration, at a forty-five-degree angle after putting her mail in the box. Now what?

  "As you can see, we have hummingbirds guarding all three levels now." She waved her hand like a Shopping Network hostess. "The upper level is for packages, the main level for regular mail and the bottom floor is for all that horrible junk mail." She tilted her head as if expecting high praise for the ingenious design.

  Because it gave her great pleasure, just this once, Tempe recited, "There's no such thing as junk mail, Mrs. Abercrombie. They are called ad inserts. Each piece…" ya-da ya-da…right. The woman wasn't listening.

  Tempe looked at the flags positioned outside of each level. "So, you're saying…you actually expect me to sort your mail and operate three different flags." Mrs. Abercrombie must be friends with the accountant on the south side who'd wanted Tempe to alphabetize her mail.

  "Hmm, that's not happenin'. All pieces will be delivered into the section, which is level with my car window, per regulations. Then you're welcome to sort it into the other rooms of the house at your leisure. Here's your mail." She handed the rubber-banded clump of mail to the startled woman and smiled. "Have a nice day."

  Feeling satisfied for once that she'd won a battle with a customer who was so obviously stepping across the line, Tempe hit the last few boxes and pulled to the side of the road. She wasn't one of those carriers who gave the mail service a bad rep, but some customers needed boundaries to corral their unrealistic expectations.

  She stacked her empty trays on the passenger seat and got behind the wheel. But when she transferred her foot to the gas pedal and looked up, a black Newfoundland blocked her way, sitting on the shoulder directly in front of her bumper. He sauntered to the driver's side.

  Tempe narrowed her eyes at Marty's hulking choice of persona. "What happened to the weenie dog kick you were on? It suited you," she said when he walked lazily around to peer up at her through the window. She jerked back as he sailed effortlessly through the opening but snagged his back legs on the ledge of the window thus landing awkwardly head planted in her lap, all two hundred pounds of black fur struggling to right himself. "Oomph! Get up, Marty, you're crushing me. Can't you change into your ugly imp self so we can talk?"

  He was sprawled over her lap, the seat, and floor, making it hard to tell which end was what. Finally, two brown eyes peeked out from under a heavy paw and heavy sigh whooshed out. Then the mutt was gone, replaced by the familiar mushroom gray and wrinkled Pomeroy imp sitting on top of her mail trays. She huffed. "That's more like it."

  When Marty tilted his head and looked up at her, it always reminded her of the dachshund personas he'd taken a liking to during the Chaos. Weenie dogs allowed him to express his personality best. He squinted at her. "If you think I'm ugly, wait until you see the creatures preparing to cross during Samani."

  That shut her up. "What do you mean? Have you seen them?"

  His little jaw tightened and his eyes popped. "One, I am forbidden to speak of—"

  "Forbidden by whom?" Tempe asked.

  He got that irritating aloof expression before looking off. "I can't say, duh, it's forb-i-d-d-e-n, but," Marty looked over his shoulder as if he thought someone might be listening. "Jack and Conor should be warned."

  "Why tease me if it's forbidden?" And why Jack and Conor? Her eyes went wide as she slapped her forehead. "Zeus' temporary tattoos!" The answer was obvious. "Marty, you've got to tell me. I didn't mean it, about you being ugly. I was just pissed."

  Marty crossed his arms, enjoying her groveling, but in the end told her nothing and disappeared. He loved doing that, knowing he left her hanging. As soon as she saw Jack, she'd relay Marty's warning. It could mean only one thing. There was another dragonhunter in Destiny.

  Chapter 15

  I was hoping to go the rest of my life without hearing her name.

  Tempe arrived for her check-in at the mail center around 2 p.m., much earlier than expected. She finished up, then raced toward Harmony, determined to be at her best for her date with Jack. What to wear… Her options were few considering her job and her lifestyle. She decided on the pretty silver blue, silk knee-length dress she'd found at a consignment shop. Montana said it made her look like a different person. Tempe assumed she meant good different. She was already odd enough.

  In July, she'd delivered a package to the owner of Twice Around and the dress called her name from a hanger near the register. It was almost the same color as the gown Jack gave her for Mardi Gras. The sandals sitting nearby in her size, she'd considered a sign. And tonight, was the night for it. Jordie was at a basketball practice and wouldn't be home until after they left for Campbell Green.

  Taking advantage of having the house to herself, she took her time bathing, soothing the jitters in a lavender bubble bath.

  As she slipped on the dress she gazed at herself in the mirror. Red hair streaked with a variety of shades inherited from her father. A perpetual golden tan from her outdoor job and freckles sprinkled sparsely across her face and shoulders. Something was different about her but she couldn't put her finger on it. She turned to the side, raised her chin to see if she'd added a few extra pounds. Maybe it was just the natural maturing process since she'd taken on her powers.

  Her eyes were usually a clear blue until she was taken by the storm urge, then Jack said they looked like a thunderstorm or a meteor shower depending on her mood. Tonight, they were an odd lavender gray matching one of the streaks in her hair. When she met Jack, he thought the colorful streaks were the result of hair dye, but it was all natural. He hair had gained its rainbow streaks the day
her father disappeared from her life. Stress, Montana said. Simple heredity, Tempe figured.

  Now that Dutch was back it was almost odd to see someone looking back at her with the same colorful hair. With his giant frame, copper and teal eyes and wild hair he was intimidating and loud. A blustery rambunctious personality was natural for the males in her family, which traced back to their ancestors and the great hall of echoes where the Tempestaeries and Djinn originated.

  Why was River so different? Tempe didn't know unless it was her fault. Her good mood plummeted thinking about how River had grown so distant, so…hostile.

  The last couple months with Jack had been so peaceful and "normal" that Tempe was surprised to find herself feeling so out of sorts. It defied explanation. Determined to regain her good mood, she shrugged and finished getting ready. She didn't want to be the reason they were late for their reservation.

  Ryan Kirkwood, Jack's chief deputy, ripped the ticket from the pad and handed it to the driver of a red Corvette, just as a call from the Sheriff's Office dispatcher came on the radio.

  "Yeah, Peggy. What's up?"

  "I just got a call from Dan Thorpe about a theft at the medical examiner's office. He wanted to talk to Jack but Jack is out of his unit at the Faerie Inn."

  "Okay, did Thorpe give any details?" Dan Thorpe was Destiny's medical examiner. He'd become 'informed' about paranormals living in the community inadvertently when he responded to several calls during the Chaos. What Ryan remembered was that Thorpe had a morbid and enthusiastic curiosity about how one could obtain superpowers. He resembled the mad scientist on Back to the Future so Ryan was never sure if he should take him seriously.

  "He was very tight-lipped, wouldn't talk about it over the phone," Peggy said. "I've got another call," she said hurriedly and the air went quiet.

  Ryan sent Jack a text message and shortly his phone rang with Lang, Laccassine Parish Sheriff on the display. "Hey, Jack. Peggy said you were at the Faerie Inn?"

  Jack was driving. Ryan heard the tires squealing as he took a curve. "I went by to see Petre and Bella about a suspicious…person of interest River met this morning. I'll tell you about it when I see you. I got a text from Tempe earlier, so I'm going to swing by and see what she wanted, then I'll be back at the office."

  "Holdup, Jack, the ME called. All he'd tell Peggy was that he wanted to talk to you about a theft at his office. She said he couldn't discuss it over the phone."

  "Hmm. That doesn't sound good," Jack said.

  Ryan knew exactly where Jack's mind was going, back to the investigation of the murder at the clubhouse, when the body of the murder victim had walked away from the morgue. Could be something just as weird knowing what Dan stored in his freezer—DNA and body parts from some of the supernatural baddies from the Chaos. Jack had ordered him to get rid of those samples though, hadn't he?

  "You did tell him to incinerate—"

  "Affirmative," Jack cut in. "I'll run by there as soon as I finish with Tempe. I won't be long. She took a break for lunch with me so she'll be in a hurry."

  "You two met for lunch?" Ryan realized he sounded shocked.

  Jack chuckled, "I know. Jordie's giving me instructions in how to be more…"

  "In how to suck up?" Ryan laughed. "No, I get it. You just want to give this relationship with Tempe your best shot."

  "Yeah." Jack paused. "I bought her a ring, Ryan. I'm going to surprise her tonight."

  "Pop the question, huh? Hey, congratulations, Laser. You deserve happiness after what you and Jordie went through with Georgeanne."

  Jack's groan came through loud and clear. "You had to go and say it. I was hoping to go the rest of my life without hearing her name."

  Ryan laughed. "Well, she's 10-7, so relax. Do you want me to meet Dan?" Jack didn't really need the reminder that his ex was dead, but Ryan didn't think it hurt to reinforce the good news.

  "No, that's okay. I've got time. I'll give you a report when I know the details."

  Sometime later, the dispatcher put a call through to Ryan from a clearly irritated Dan Thorpe as he was driving up to the S.O. "Well, is he coming or not?"

  Chapter 16

  I may be old, boy, but my bullshit meter still works.

  Ryan was worried. Jack hadn't shown up at Dan's and couldn't be reached on his cell phone. Tempe wasn't responding either. Ryan pulled his unit away from the curb and radioed Peggy. "Forward all calls to my car, I'm going to talk to Thorpe. If you hear from Jack or Tempe, put them straight through to my car, or my cell." He'd start with Thorpe then backtrack. Jack had mentioned River and a "person of interest".

  He peeled an antacid from a roll and popped it into his mouth. Stress was making his gut roil. When he arrived at the ME's office, Dan swung the big door open wide and swept an arm out. "Look at this mess."

  "What's missing?" Ryan asked abruptly.

  "I thought Sheriff Lang would want to come himself. Those missing DNA samples aren't your normal run-of-the-mill theft," Thorpe declared with offended hauteur.

  Ryan couldn't help it, there was something about the guy's overzealous attitude toward supernaturals that bothered him.

  The DNA samples belonged to the most hideous creatures Ryan had ever seen—zombie types, flying vampire heads—and others, which may not have been recorded, given the ME's creepy interest in the macabre. And now they were under who knew what monster's control?

  He rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm aware of that, Thorpe. I'm also aware you were supposed to have destroyed those samples. Why the hell didn't you?"

  Ryan surveyed the destruction in the medical examiner's office and the bare spot where the missing freezer had been. Yes, the thief (or thieves) had definitely wanted the samples in their preserved state, presumably for their own use, a horrifying thought. Other areas and desks looked as if paperwork had simply been scattered about the floor as a ruse, deflecting attention from the main target. But Ryan wasn't fooled and cast a sharp glance at the ME.

  "You didn't answer my question," he reminded Thorpe.

  "What? Oh, well, these things have to be scheduled you know, the incinerations, the wasting of DNA. Here, I'll show you. They were scheduled for waste this week on…" he lifted a clipboard from a nail on the wall and scanned it. "Tomorrow." He looked at Ryan who wasn't buying his absentminded act.

  Ryan was suspicious of the ME's explanation, but he didn't have as many dealings with him as Jack, and he didn't have any proof that he was lying. It was gut instinct—and he'd learned to always trust his instincts. "Jack isn't going to be happy about this, Dan."

  Once again, Ryan wished Jack was here to handle the details. He'd filled in as sheriff for several months after Jack went through his change, but he was much happier just being his wingman.

  "When did you discover the break-in?" Ryan asked.

  Dan said, "When I got to the office this morning. Apparently, whoever it was, also took the videotapes from the security office."

  Convenient, Ryan thought. Way too inconvenient. He asked Thorpe who had access to the office and where he'd been twelve hours prior to the break-in. Thorpe looked affronted and his voice held contempt when he replied, "I'd gone home to bed. Gotta get my ten hours these days."

  Ryan's blank expression didn't betray his thoughts but it should be obvious to the medical examiner that he had no alibi. "Where can I find you if anything comes up?"

  Dan looked at his watch, giving the impression of an impatient busy executive. His voice held a touch of exasperation. "Well, that's the reason I was trying to get someone over here. I have a plane to catch. There's a conference in Colorado. I'll be back Monday."

  Ryan didn't like it but he had no legal reason to deny Thorpe his freedom. "Keep your phone with you. I may have questions." He handed Thorpe his card. "Here's my cell number in case you think of anything, or you can reach us through dispatch. One more question. You never heard from Jack today? After we talked?"

  "No, why?" Ryan didn't sense deception on Dan's part, at least a
bout Jack, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the ME was lying about something.

  "I'll be in touch." Ryan slapped his cap on his head and walked outside.

  Scanning the sky, he recalled some of the sorties he and Jack had been a part of over desert war zones. A dangerous time but they'd both come through. "Where are you Jack?" he murmured, his unease growing, keeping pace with the acid rising in his gut. "We used to have a connection; I hope we still do. Hang in there wherever you are." He strode to the unit with the unshakeable knowledge that Jack, wherever he was, was in trouble.

  After a twenty-minute trip to the department's slip on the lake and a ten-minute ride, Ryan stepped onto the beach at what the Paramortals called Fierce Winds Isle. It didn't look like much, just an empty strand of beach, a tiki hut with a portable bar and a few workers tending the sand. And he knew he was only able to see that much because of his association with Jack.

  He looked closer, surprised to recognize Phineas Jackson, the old termagant who'd caused so much trouble for Tempe, and he looked way younger than his eighty years. What was he doing here? Something magical had obviously happened to ol' Phineas, or maybe this was what they called glamour. "Mr. Jackson." He held his hand out to Jackson, who walked over and shook it.

  "Yuh. I'm Phineas Jackson, who are you?"

  Ryan chuckled. The old man wasn't known for his charm and Ryan thought magic hadn't helped his disposition much. "I'm looking for Jack—you know, Sheriff Lang?"

  "I know Jack. But why you lookin' for him, Deputy?"

  "Well, we got our wires crossed. I just wondered if he might be here."