by Eve Langlais
“And therein lies the problem.”
“Not a problem if we share.” Sebastian shrugged as they looked at him. “Listen, we obviously like this girl. All of us. So we can either wreck a great friendship and fight over that fact, or give in to what fate obviously wants from us and claim her.”
“Share her for life?” Dale said it thoughtfully. “I guess if I had to do that with anyone it would be you guys.”
“And there are the tax breaks,” Sebastian teased.
“There are many positives to it, with the biggest negative being dealing with our jealousy. But there’s one thing we haven’t really discussed. What does Brenda want?”
As one, they stared upwards and might have gone pounding back upstairs to address the issue if Dale’s phone hadn’t rung.
“It’s Pete.” And it wasn’t good news.
They left Sebastian behind to guard Brenda, outside with him promising not to go inside unless there was danger. He’d spend the night on her fire escape until one of them relieved him.
Mike went along with Dale for the briefing by Pete.
The news proved alarming.
Pacing the large living room in Anthony’s house, Pete filled them in. “We’ve identified the source of the infection.”
“Back up a second,” Mike asked. “Infection? Is that what they’re calling the possession now?”
“Yes. We’ve only confirmed it in a few of the cases so far, but the evidence is mounting. All those who began to act strangely, the firemen and police, came into contact with the Peabodys. More specifically, their house. They were the first responders on the scene when Mr. Peabody was arrested.”
“All of them?” Dale couldn’t help but ask in a tone most startled.
“Not all, but enough to form a pattern.”
“You’d better not be saying that house is contagious,” Mike remarked.
“We don’t think it’s contagious in the usual sense. Not from host to host at any rate. We believe the only way they can become infected is if they come in close contact with the house.”
“But you say not everyone is affected.”
“No, and yet all the cases we’ve encountered have the same ground zero so far.”
Dale rubbed his jaw. “Say we believe the house is somehow possessing people. How does that explain the librarian? I highly doubt she does house calls.”
“The librarian is one Ethel Thorpe, and she resides at 997—”
Mike interrupted to finished. “Cloven Hoof Lane.”
“She’s their fucking neighbor?” Dale scrubbed his face. “This is turning into a clusterfuck.”
How much of Dale’s agitation stemmed from the situation or the fact that they knew Brenda had been inside that house?
Did she carry a spore inside her, a ticking time bomb?
“Has anyone checked on the other neighbors around?” Dale asked.
Pete pivoted from his pacing to face them. “TDCM has dispatched a containment crew. All residents in a two-block radius are being tested as we speak.”
“So, what do we do next?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing?” Dale barked. “Something in that house is fucking with people.” Possibly fucking with Brenda. She’d visited but shown no signs of possession.
Yet.
“We can’t do anything.” Pete shrugged. “We’ve been kicked off the case. We have no official capacity to get involved.”
Dale looked at the vampire sitting off to the side. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
At this point, Anthony, who’d remained silent to this point, nursing a brandy, spoke. “Our kind has chosen to abstain from this unfortunate situation, which means I can’t advise you in regards to the current circumstances. But as an observer, I find it curious that human authorities haven’t returned to the Peabody house. Not even to check on the family.”
“That is surprising,” Dale said slowly. “And really, peeking in on them would be the right thing to do. But the police need to have just cause to go in.”
“Indeed they do,” said the vampire lawyer. “I recently tried a case where the defense argued that a 911 call wasn’t sufficient grounds for law enforcement to enter his client’s home. They lost.”
The hint was clear.
Via a burner phone bought in a corner store, Dale placed a call.
14
I woke up alone, and yet my apartment had company.
And since it wasn’t one of my three wolves, I didn’t feel a need to be nice about it.
“What are you doing in my place?” I asked the redhead sitting comfortably in my kitchen sipping from a Starbucks cup.
Lucky for her, she’d brought two.
“Your Lycan friends couldn’t stick around and asked if I could do them a favor.”
They’d sent the witch to watch over me? Ah. So sweet. Sweeter if they’d done it in person. “They sent you to babysit me?” My nose wrinkled.
“Actually, they sent me to ensure you weren’t infected.”
“Don’t tell me they have STDs.” Hold on, we hadn’t engaged in penis sex yet, but I’d let Sebastian lick me. Could I get an STD from spit? I thought Lycans didn’t carry disease.
“I have no idea about any sexually transmitted diseases they carry,” Willow said, her nose wrinkling. “I was speaking of the infection that caused the librarian to act out.”
“Am I going to turn into a psycho bitch, too?” That would suck. My life was finally starting to turn around.
“You’re clean.”
“Good.” And kind of disappointing. It would have made interesting conversation. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“I have to go to work.” Willow stood. “Being a witch doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Work?” Ack. I looked at the time and cringed. I’d be late. Again.
But our boss knew better than to harass me about it. The last time he did, I burst into tears and told him I felt attacked because I was a woman and on my period and… I went on for a while until he turned tomato-red and ushered me from his office.
This time, he didn’t even bother to say anything when I sauntered in over an hour late.
And then I took my time eating the donuts I’d grabbed on my way.
Time dragged by. Probably because I didn’t work much. The mood just wasn’t conducive to anything constructive today. What I was in the mood for involved two or three of the guys interested in me enough to make up their mind.
“Is it really so much to ask for?” I asked the plant sitting on my desk. “I mean, sure I could be greedy and demand all three of them claim me, but hell, I’d settle for just one person to love.” Someone I could wake up beside every morning and not because I’d tied them to the bed.
“Brenda!”
Francis, the office gopher—wearing his lime-green pants and smartly tied cravat—came sauntering into the secretarial pen. The desks around me sat mostly empty, as the others had gone to lunch. I, on the other hand, saved money and brought leftover pizza. While I chewed, I took that time to speak to my cactus. It never judged me, even though I’d killed seven of its ancestors.
“What is it, Francis?” I asked, tucking the empty box away lest he comment about my appetite. The last time he’d made a remark about the amount of food I consumed we got pulled in front of HR, and I had to apologize for making a rude gesture with my mouth and hand describing Francis’s favorite meal. It didn’t go over well, and I spent eight hours on a Saturday undergoing sensitivity training.
It should be noted that I didn’t disagree with eating sausage; I loved it. But, apparently, Francis was a vegetarian. Which made me wonder, if he didn’t eat meat, did he still fuck it?
“You’ve been looking into that Peabody case, haven’t you?” he said, stopping in front of my desk.
“Was. Nothing to find. Hubby is crazier than a meth head high on crack.” And I’d promised Chloe I wouldn’t go back to talk to his wife.
Then again, even i
f there was something to tell, I wouldn’t tell Francis. He was human. So was I, but maybe I’d have a DNA test done to be sure. Wouldn’t it be cool if my blood contained a little something special?
“Are you sure there’s nothing? Because I heard through the police scanner that the cops were called out to their place last night.”
“Really, why?” Had Mrs. Peabody gone nutso, too? Did she start flying around her yard? Trying to eat the neighborhood kids?
“Reports of screaming last night, and some God-awful smell coming from the house.”
“Smell? As in someone burnt the pot roast? Septic tank is full?”
“A rotting smell,” Francis confided.
My eyes widened. “Is Mrs. Peabody dead?” And more importantly, was I the last person to see her alive? If yes, that would make me a prime suspect. I wondered if I’d get a cute cop questioning me.
Bad Brenda. I should be thinking about alibis.
Francis shrugged. “No idea if anyone is dead. I haven’t heard about them finding any bodies. But I hear the school informed the cop on the case that the children haven’t been seen since Peabody was arrested.”
“That can’t be right.” I almost said Mrs. Peabody had told me otherwise, but then I realized that I might be screwing myself if it did turn into a murder case. Francis would totally hang me out to dry.
“Who knows what they’ll find, but I thought you should know.”
He thought right. The problem was, I hungered for more than a juicy tidbit of gossip.
Seriously, I must have been a cat in another life because I was curious. I needed to go back to the house.
But Dale and the others had said to stay away. The guys had also abandoned me when the C word came up. For once, it didn’t rhyme with punt.
“Are the police still at the house?” I asked as I opened my bottom drawer to yank out my purse. It barely fit because of its bulging sides.
“They’ve been there for hours.”
I still had about twenty minutes left on my lunch. Longer, if I faked sick.
A tiny voice reminded me that I’d promised Chloe I wouldn’t go back to the Peabody place. But that was before shit had hit the fan. Besides, if the cops were already there, then how much trouble could I really get into?
On an even more positive note, cops meant handcuffs. Maybe even some frisking. I reapplied my lipstick before heading out.
Unlike my first excursion to suburbia, this time, the house seemed much shabbier. I didn’t know how I’d missed the state of disrepair the last time I visited. The lawn was half dead, the weeds thrusting up from the yellow grass. The branches on the bushes were bare of leaves. The whole place had a sad air of neglect.
On a more positive note, a cop car was parked out front, along with an unmarked sedan.
Fantastic. Here was to hoping I’d not gotten the married and on a donut diet version.
I could, though, handle a girl cop. After all, she’d have handcuffs and a gun. At this point, abandoned by three guys, my bruised ego could use a stroke. Even a feminine one.
Lowering the visor to use the mirror, I did a teeth check—no pizza caught in the gaps—a breath check—better pop a mint—boob check—adjusted the girls for maximum cleavage—and then ran my fingers through my hair to give it a slightly rolled-out-of-bed look.
Opening the truck door, I leaped out and hit the pavement in my flats. I’d opted for my practical Mary Janes today just in case I had to run from a poltergeist. As I adventured, I learned. I’d also worn a skirt again in case I visited another library.
Once more, I had my handy satchel over my shoulder, opting for a multi-purpose crowbar—good for prying shit and whacking the possessed—a vial of holy water, gathered on my way to work, and a silver dagger bought off the guy on the corner. The gun was tucked in the glove box because it made my purse too heavy. At least it was nearby.
As a final protective talisman, I also wore a cross around my neck. Sure, Anthony might have told Chloe that religion didn’t bother his kind, but hello, he was a vampire. What else would he tell her?
I preferred to not take any chances.
Heading up the sidewalk, determined to get inside, I’d almost made it to the front door when it opened.
And out walked Dale.
In a uniform.
A police uniform, I might add.
“You’re a cop?” The incredulity in my tone was at odds with the sudden wetness in my panties.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, grabbing me by the arm and tugging me down the walkway.
“I heard there was something going on, so I came to see.”
“You shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be at work.”
“I was. But then I heard about the Peabody house. What’s going on?” I asked as a forensic van pulled up.
“Nothing. Go back to work.”
I dug in my heels. “I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening.”
“Nothing is happening. We had a report, and we’re checking it out.”
“Did you find any bodies?”
Before Dale could reply, another familiar voice called out, “What’s she doing here?”
Stepping out of the forensics van was none other than Sebastian.
“You both work for the police department? How did I not know this?”
“Because we didn’t tell you, and it never came up.”
They did it on purpose to hide it. “I would have clued in if I’d seen you in uniform.”
“Most of the time, I’m assigned plain clothes duties, but I was supposed to testify today, so I wore my uniform, only I got called to the ah…um…”
“Crime scene. You can say it.”
He glared. “Get in your truck, Brenda.”
“You can’t order me around. I’m a citizen, and I have rights.”
“Very well, you want to play by the rules.” He spun me around and grabbed my wrists. The day seemed brighter. “You have the right to remain silent.” He began to recite my Miranda rights as he handcuffed me.
Me? A girl he’d made out with.
He then proceeded to tuck me into the back of his car and shut the door. Did you know there’re no handles on the inside? I couldn’t get out. But I could hear.
Sebastian argued with him. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping her out of trouble.”
“You can’t leave her in your car all day,” Sebastian hissed.
“She’d probably get into less trouble if I did,” Dale snapped.
“Just get her to leave.”
“What makes you think she won’t just come back?”
When they both turned to stare at me, I smiled. I would have waved, but even I couldn’t contort enough to get those hands up from behind my back. Which reminded me, why were they still behind my back?
With a little wiggle and effort, I managed to tuck my butt, then my legs through the loop of my arms. The boys were still arguing and didn’t notice my fabulous dexterity.
Even through the closed window, I heard Dale sigh. “I’ll take care of this. If anyone asks, tell them I went to get coffee. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He settled himself behind the wheel, and I leaned forward, not touching the mesh between our seats. Who knew what had licked it? “You can’t arrest me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’ve done plenty of things wrong, but we’re not going to the station.”
Nor were we apparently going to my place. Instead, we went to his house, and when I refused to get out of the car, he leaned in and dragged me out then tossed me over a brawny shoulder, where I protested for the sake of it.
Despite his high-handed manner, the whole situation was kind of hot, especially since his hand rested on my bare thigh, holding me in place.
As soon as we entered the house, his hand slid higher, cupping an ass cheek.
“You are the most vexing woman I’ve ever met, kitten.”
“Does that mean you’re going t
o spank me?” I asked. I couldn’t help a shiver of excitement.
“I should.” He caressed my cheek. “But I doubt you’d learn a lesson. More than likely, you’d do it on purpose to get in trouble again.”
How well he already knew me.
He carried me up the stairs, my big, strong man bringing me to his bed, and me still in handcuffs.
Oh, the possibilities.
He tossed me on his mattress, and I bounced with a squeal. He quickly covered my body with his, his hands pulling my wrists over my head, and I caught my breath.
“What now, Scooby?”
Now was time for a kiss. His mouth swooped onto mine, claiming it in a torrid embrace that slapped all my nerve endings awake.
His tongue lashed mine, sliding and teasing, sucking it even. I wished I could touch him, but he had my hands secured, which in itself was very hot.
His body pressed heavily against mine, and my hips undulated against him.
“I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” I breathed against his ear before nibbling it.
“I wish we had time for that. But I have to go. And I can’t return smelling of sex.”
Go? “Oh, hell no, Scooby. You can’t leave me hanging. Or would you prefer to go back to work knowing I’m pleasuring myself?”
That drew a growl from him, and another torrid kiss. It also brought his hand skimming up my thigh, brushing against the damp crotch of my panties. He pushed them out of his way, and I cried out as he ran his finger along my wet slit.
“Maybe I can spare a minute to please you,” he murmured against my mouth.
A minute? Maybe seconds. I was already on fire for him.
The stroke of his fingers against my sex only made it hotter. My hips thrust against his hand as he dipped a finger in and out, then two fingers.
He pushed and pulled, stretching me, his thumb teasing my clit, driving my pleasure. Heightening my need.
“Please. I need more,” I cried as I sat on the brink of ecstasy.
He tore his mouth from mine, and for a moment, I know he meant to put it somewhere else. He wasn’t going to leave me hanging.
But then his fucking phone rang.
And he withdrew his fingers from me.
He left the room with a softly muttered, “Sorry, kitten. I gotta go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”