"Don't try to be cute, Cass," he grumbled.
"Can't help it. It's in the genes." She chuckled as she left her hotel room and strode toward her rental car, intent on heading for Eternal Bliss. The pub was located near the wharf, not a place where the hottie-tottie frequented. The Hamptons were full of those, but Eternal Bliss' clientele catered to the working class folks or so she'd heard. She'd feel right at home in the pub, but then she'd also heard, preternatural beings frequented the place too.
"Did you call for a reason?" she asked Wade, already knowing the real reason behind the call. He was checking up on her.
"Just wondering how goes the hunting?"
"There's been a slight setback," she told him. "The hunter you set me up with decided to go all secretive and take care of business himself. He screwed up and lost the vamp we were hunting. Now I have to see if I can fix it before another victim is found."
"Sorry about that," Wade said. "I never worked with the guy. He's from one of the oversea branches. Maybe the reason he's here. He's screwed up back home and now their trying to dump his sorry arse on us."
"We'll see. I'm meeting with him in an hour. If you hear anything else about the case, ring me with the info."
"Will do. Be safe."
"Be safe," she said. They never said goodbye. Goodbye was final and in their business that meant a dirt bed six-feet under. Ringing off with, be safe gave hope you'd see the person again.
She slipped into her car and closed the door, shutting out the cold breeze biting through her jacket. The Hamptons were located in the eastern part of Long Island, New York with the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the Long Island Sound on the other. The Hamptons were popular with the rich and famous of New York, who often spent their summers here, but this was December and the swarm of families with summer homes had packed up and gone home long before now, and with them the warm weather, it would seem.
The Hamptons had a maritime climate influenced by the Atlantic Ocean. Summers were warm and wet, while the winters were cold and wet. She might even see some snow while she was here.
She loved the ocean, lived no more than ten minutes away from the water back home, but that was across country in California, where surfing in the early morning proved her favorite pastime, and with California's weather, she could indulge almost anytime of the year.
She pulled down her visor and glanced in the mirror. "I'd scare the dead," she told her reflection. Her mahogany colored hair looked like an unruly mess of windblown waves. She should have taken the time to blow dry it this morning and braid it.
She grabbed her purse and fished through the contents until she found two pencils. Not exactly beautiful hair adornments, but they'd work miracles in holding a bun in place. She scooped her hair off her neck and wrapped it into a coil, strategically placing the pencils through the bun. She glanced in the mirror again. "Much better," she said with a nod.
She started the vehicle and headed toward Eternal Bliss. Mr. Green or Tremayne Greer as he now wanted to be called, better have a good explanation why he went radio silent for two days and then had the audacity to lose their target.
Chapter Three
The night had just begun but Eternal Bliss already hopped with humans sharing a pint with a friend, and the supernatural life didn't shy away either from ordering a drink or two. Tremayne glanced toward the table on the left near the bandstand, where humans having a laugh were gathered around a table. They were locals and frequented the pub often. His gaze then leveled on the Grim Sith, a vamp from a Scotland sept, who was seated at the end of the bar and sipping a special blend of wine and blood. A woman with dark hair sat down next to him. Pretty features, nice complexion and light eyes – he'd wager she was of Italian descent. Not preternatural in nature, but he knew she was a Necromancer. The couple was visiting from Boston, a get away of sorts after taking down the 'Soul Taker'. The Necromancer still looked tired. The job must have taken a toll on her.
Working at the pub, he learned to spot who was human and who wasn't, but he'd been wrong on occasion, too. Preternatural beings could blend in with the humans as long as they didn't fang-out, go glowy-eyed like a Light Bright, or any other crapola like that. He knew how to mask his Otherworldly attributes, and doubted Cassandra Hayes would pick up the vampire vibe from him unless he decided to nibble on her neck. His lips curved at the thought. If she looked as hot as her voice sounded, he might want to. Who knows, she might even let him.
He rolled his eyes at where his thoughts had taken him. The woman was a born and bred hunter. If he nibbled, he'd have to expect a nice stake with his name carved on it, and personally delivered by the hunter herself.
He wiped down the countertop with one of the throwaway hygienic cloths he kept under the counter. He may not catch any of the human viruses but his employees weren't all preternatural beings.
He'd purchased the pub ten years ago when it had been in dire need of a facelift. He'd gutted it, hired locals to help out on the renovations, and in six months, he had his baby in tip-top shape. Oak floors shined bright beneath impressive old world chandeliers. Cozy booths provided comfort for those who wanted a private atmosphere versus the line up seating at the bar.
Not only did Eternal Bliss serve beers on tap, wine, and specialty drinks for his Otherworldy clientele at the pub, they also served lunch and dinner specials daily.
His employees included four waitresses, two bartenders, not including himself, four dishwashers and two cooks. All human and people he couldn't do without.
"The table in the corner wants another round of beers," Georgina told him. The twenty something waitress was a natural blonde – or so he heard her claim. She was working her way through college, and had a loser boyfriend she should dump.
"Coming right up," Tremayne told her.
Once Georgina had her order, she headed toward the table to deliver the drinks.
The front door opened and closed. Sheerin and Bram had entered the pub and headed over to him. Both were from the Oiche Sith sept, original vampires and centuries old. He'd grown up with these two, fought in a few wars that made history weep.
Bram, dark haired and blue-eyed, was the first among them to take a human mate and turn her with success. Adryanna, the auburn hair beauty was truly Bram's better half, if anyone cared to know. They bought a house just recently and planned to make the Hamptons their home again. They'd lived in New York in 1897, when the Waldorf-Astoria had been a site to see. It was long gone now like so many other majestic buildings.
Sheerin, his other cousin, for lack of a better term to use for his sept brothers, possessed thick blond hair that could almost be called white in color. The brainiac had come up with the idea for the synthetic blood blend and had a hand in perfecting the process with the help of a few other colleagues, all vampires of course. The wine concoction was what the vampire septs relied on for nourishment, and it hit the market with success. It made living among the humans easier for the vampires who did not have mates and for those who were hybrids turned on purpose or by accident to survive without the risk of killing a human when hunger struck.
The synthetic blood had been a blessing to keep the peace between humans and vampires. The Guards of Judgment hunted the septs that didn't follow the rules. No preternatural being lasted long if the supernatural assassins showed up on their doorstep to dole out their special justice. He wasn't sure which was worse: hunters or the GOJ. WFTL were probably the most forgiving of the fractions, trying to balance the Otherworldly beings activities in a human world, but it didn't mean he'd ever want to cross them either.
Bram and Sheerin took a seat at the bar. After the pleasantries were through and drinks served, Tremayne decided to mention his interesting night thus far.
"I should warn you a hunter is in town investigating those kidnappings I mentioned to you. Three have been found by the way."
"Alive?" Bram asked. "And why would this concern us?" he added.
"No, to your first question," he said. "And t
o your second question, the hunter is a Hayes."
"A Hayes?" Sheerin piped up with interest. "It must be serious if the Preternatural Regulating Bureau sent a top-notch hunter into the mix." Sheerin rested his arms on the counter and leaned forward to lower his voice, but still be heard. "Do we know who he's hunting?"
"No, and he is a she."
"A lass is it?" Sheerin's lips curved. "I haven't seen a female hunter in ages. I've come to realize, they're more lethal than the males." He dug his hand into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. Next, a pen materialized. "This one is for the books," he told him.
Tremayne shook his head. If he didn't know better he'd swear Sheerin was a distant cousin to the Watchers, the Nephilim bastards, the sons and daughters of The Fallen Angels. They used to record history in grand books before they headed the WFTL. Sheerin could put them to shame with the notes and observations he'd jotted down in his notebooks.
"What does this hunter look like?" Sheerin asked, eager to write down the description.
"I don't know. Spoke with her on the phone." He reached below the counter and clasped the mobile he lifted from the dead hunter. He placed it in front of Bram. "This belonged to Mr. Green. Hayes was supposed to meet-up with him."
"And you know this because?" Bram asked, his left eyebrow arching in question.
"Let's say I answered the phone and she thought she was chatting with the bloke."
Bram chuckled. "Surely, you jest. Why would you do such a fool thing?"
Tremayne had been wondering the same thing for the last few hours, but what was done was done. He couldn't change it. "Spare me the lectures, Bram. I'll deal with the hunter when she arrives. I just wanted to give you both the heads up so you wouldn't ruin my cover."
"Which is?" Bram asked.
"I'm Green working undercover here as Tremayne Greer, the pub owner of Eternal Bliss until I can send the hunter on her merry way."
This time both Sheerin and Bram laughed.
"Is this why you called and wanted information about this guy, so you can take on his identity?"
"Aye, and I fail to see what is so humorous," he hissed.
Bram still wore a smirk on his face when he spoke, irritating him further. "How in the world are you going to pull off being this Mr. Green? Doesn't she know what the gent looks like?"
"Give me some credit. She's never met the bloke."
"And where is the real Mr. Green?" Sheerin asked.
Tremayne ran a hand through his hair and cringed. "At the bottom of the ocean." Both Bram and Sheerin looked aghast at the thought, and he quickly explained: "Green was already dead when I came across him. Found him in the alley next to the dumpster when I arrived to open up the pub tonight."
"Not exactly a great promoter for the business," Bram said.
"No," he agreed. "So…do you have the info on the guy or not?"
"I have it," Bram said and slipped his hand into his coat pocket. He handed him a folded paper. "Found most of the info on the Preternatural Regulator Bureau's database. Makes it nice that I know a guy who knows a guy…"
Tremayne scanned the info. "Mr. Green has a sister still living, an ex-wife…no children."
"He was sent here because he was running away from the ex-wife," Bram said. "Seems she wants him back, but he doesn't want her. Though Green's been spreading the rumor he was sent to the States because of a dalliance he had with a superior's daughter."
Tremayne stared at Bram. "How in the world did you find out that much information?"
He shrugged. "I have my ways. But it also helped that his crazy ex-wife liked to chat."
"What?" He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or horrified that he took the risk. "You called his ex?"
"Don't worry. She thinks I'm with the bureau here and I told her we weren't sure he'd be a good match and we were interviewing people who knew him. I was surprised at the earful I received. The woman hates him as much as she fancies she's in love with him. No wonder Green ran."
The front door to the pub opened and a woman wearing a button down shirt, jeans and boots to match her leather jacket, waltzed in with an air of authority. "She's here," he said, more to himself, but Sheerin and Bram heard him and turned in their seats to chance a look at the hunter in question.
"How do you know it's her if you've never met the hunter?" Sheerin gave him a sideway glance.
"She has the Hayes family cat-like eyes."
"What do you mean?" Sheerin asked.
"He's run into the Hayes family before," Bram explained. "Centuries ago, mind you, when he was hunting a vampire who had chose to embrace the bloodlust."
"Nasty times," Sheerin said. "Those rogues are the vampires that have caused villagers to pick up pitchforks and stakes." He shook his head in disgust.
"According to Tremayne," Bram said, "the Hayes clan possesses unusual eyes."
Tremayne nodded. "Cassandra looks every bit a Hayes with her dark mahogany tresses and light green eyes with no other colors marring the pattern."
Bram and Sheerin exchanged a look. "If I didn't know better," Bram said, "I'd believe you were smitten."
"She's a hunter," he grumbled. "I'm being observant."
"If you say so." Bram turned around completely in his seat and leaned his back against the bar, most likely to get a better look at the hunter for himself.
"Even if there wasn't the strong family resemblance, the real cincher is on display. Cast your gazes on the necklace she has dangling around her pretty little neck."
"So?" Bram lifted his shoulders. "She's into Celtic jewelry. So are half of the twenty-something year olds across the country."
"It's a hunter's crest. Yeah, she might as well stand on the barstool and shout: I'm a hunter. So all preternatural beings beware!"
The Hayes family could trace their roots back to the fourteenth century. Each member was trained to take down demons, werewolves, and of course, their real passion was hunting down vampire septs. Cassandra most likely received her first vampire kit on her fifth birthday, stocked full of wooden stakes and holy water. A stake could do considerable damage, but holy water? Really? Unless the hunter wanted to give the vampire a bath, nothing else would happen. No sizzle and pop, just a pissed off vampire. No one liked water thrown in his or her face.
"She's lovely," Sheerin scribbled something on the notepad, most likely a description of Cassandra Hayes to be followed up by a sketch.
"She's spotted you," Bram turned in his seat with a grin. "And heading this way," he added for good measure.
"Did you believe my eyesight had been impaired by her beauty?" Tremayne hissed with a thick Irish lilt to his words. "Of course I see her bee-lining it over to the bar, eejit."
"Tsk, tsk," Bram shook his head and his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Don't get your hoses in a twist, or your eyes may start glowing red. I would so hate to see you staked in your own pub."
"Bite me," he said beneath his breath, making Bram chuckle.
The hunter plopped down on a stool. Thank goodness it wasn't one closer to Bram and Sheerin or she might come face to face with his vamp side of his existence. Wouldn't that be a show? He could hear it now. Slaying at Eternal Bliss. News at eleven.
He sighed heavily. "Here goes nothing," he said to Bram and Sheerin as he left them and strode closer to where the lovely hunter had taken a seat. "May I start a tab for you?" he asked.
"Mr. Green?" Cassandra Hayes kept her voice low and her eyes fixed on him.
"Tremayne Greer, remember?" He winked and her dark ruddy brows furrowed. "Undercover," he reminded her.
"Ah, yes." She glanced to the right of her—where Sheerin and Bram were seated at the end of the bar. "Is it all right to speak freely here?"
God's breath, the woman was a beauty, even with her ridiculous hairdo of pencils masquerading as adornments to keep her hair in a bun. He itched to remove the pencils and see how those gorgeous strands looked framing her winsome face. "Aye, speak your mind, lass."
Her gaze riveted to his. "Is that accent real?" Then she waved her hand. "Of course it is. You're from one of the European branches overseas."
"Why did you want to meet with me, Mrs. Hayes?"
"Miss Hayes," she corrected, "but call me Cassandra."
His lips slid into a grin at the knowledge she wasn't married. "All right, Cassandra." He much rather be on a first name basis with her. Heck, he wished he had met her under different circumstances, though with her being a hunter and him being her potential prey… Yep, probably wouldn't work out.
"I think it would be in both our best interest if we work together," she told him.
He failed to see the benefit other than he'd have a chance to see her on a daily basis. No, he couldn't. It would be a mistake. Big mistake. "You're probably right," he found himself saying before he could shutdown the idea.
From the other end of the bar, Tremayne heard Sheerin choke on his drink, but he ignored him and kept his eyes fixed on Cassandra. She proved much prettier to look at anyway.
"What should we do next?" he asked, curious to know how she would proceed with the hunt.
She nodded as if his compliance met with her approval. "Where did you last come in contact with the vamp?"
Bram cleared his throat and Tremayne resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wished his cousins would take a seat elsewhere. They were distracting him.
"Here?" he said, but it sounded more like a question. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice.
"Precisely. You have a great setup for your undercover work." She leaned on the counter and turned in her seat so she had a clear view of the place.
"Aye," he said.
She whirled around to face him again. "So what does the vamp look like?"
"Uh...it was dark." If he did have a description and the vamped showed up, did she plan on actually walking up to said vamp and staking him right in front of the patrons?
Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I) Page 2