Alien Interludes

by Tracy St. John

  Okay, I’m a lot freaked out. Vampires are scary.

  He’s gorgeous whether man or vamp. Tristan has hair as black as night, cut short in an elegant 1920’s ‘do. Already handsome, the predatory aspect of his fanged self lends dangerous charm to his wel-formed features. If GQ ever wanted to put a vampire on their cover, Tristan should be at the top of the list. He dresses wel in custom-made suits that flatter his lean muscled frame. Tristan has never had to drink pouched or bottled blood. The groupies line up for him.

  A smal, wel-padded Hispanic woman stood behind him. She looks like the best mom in the neighborhood, the one whose house al the kids gather at for milk and cookies. I thought she might be somewhere in her forties, but she’s got one of those ageless faces where it’s hard to tel. She might have been anywhere from 35 to 60. She radiates kindness.

  She sat down in a leather chair in front of his desk. “I wil prepare myself.”

  This was Isabela, my channel. I sighed. I like Isabela, but I don’t like using her body. It’s weird and uncomfortable. When I’m inside her, I see both the real world and the spirit world, which can play heck on my equilibrium. Fortunately, Para Central is the same in both realms. As long as we didn’t go for a walk anywhere, I wouldn’t be too off-kilter.

  I watched her close her eyes. It didn’t take long for her body to relax completely and the light lines in her face to smooth out. She’s a pro at this. I went to her and sat down on top, as if to give her my Christmas list. Instead of landing on Isabela’s lap, I ended up inside her. The heaviness of a corporeal body settled over me like a suffocating blanket. I felt a twinge of her in the back of our shared mind, but she was very quiet. When Isabela is channeling, she’s unaware of what’s going on. Lucky her.

  I opened her eyes and looked up at the black-eyed vampire looming over me. “I’m here.”

  He smiled, a little human warmth creeping into his pale face. “How is your haunting of Sanderson Cottage going?” It was at his request that I’d been giving Haloween thrils to tourists at his former employer’s home. My payment for being al spooky was staving off boredom. Being dead gives you a lot of time on your hands.

  I told him, “It’s fun. Patricia liked my dress. What’s up?”

  “I need you to replace Dan for a little while spying on the Beasts.”

  Oh, this definitely sounded interesting. One of Tristan’s campaign promises at the last election was to clean up Fulton Fals’ crime problems, and the Beasts Motorcycle Club was at the top of his list.

  Composed of violent were-critters, the Beasts were suspected of everything from blackmail to murder. As organized as any crime syndicate, the Beasts had chapters al over North America, Asia, and Europe.

  Even little ol’ Fulton Fals has a group of about three dozen getting up to heaven knows what.

  My other boyfriend, Dan Saling, had been spying on the Beasts for weeks now on Tristan’s behalf. Dan is like me, a ful time ghost. As to why I have two boyfriends … wel, that’s a Brandilynn-inspired mess. Neither man is thriled about sharing me, but they’re putting up with it. For now.

  First things first. Playing spy sounded fun, especialy since weres can’t see ghosts. No real danger there. “Sure. What am I doing?”

  “Just keep your ears and eyes out for anything unsavory.”

  “By unsavory, you mean ilegal?”

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed. His fists clenched and opened, clenched and opened. Good heavens, what had his dander up tonight? “The leader of the Beasts is very careful, even among his own people. Only his closest lieutenants know anything about what his exact undertakings involve. The majority of the group is mainly concerned with colecting protection money, beating up others, murder, the smaler time stuff.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Murder is smal time?”

  He scowled. “For this group, I’m afraid so. Gerald, wil you fil Brandilynn in?”

  I stared at Tristan. He was on edge tonight, his usualy cultured voice snapping words like whips.

  Before I could cal him on it, tal, dark and purrfect (hey, I never claimed to be funny) stepped forward. As if the werepanther wasn’t sexy enough, Gerald’s deep roling voice sealed the deal. Cool and smooth, it was the kind of voice you’d want to rub al over your naked body.

  He smiled, his catman face wearing it wel. I realized I rarely saw this hired muscle smile. “Hi Brandilynn.”

  “Hi Gerald. You doing okay?”

  “Just fine, thanks.” His ears twitched this way and that, forever patroling for trouble. His nose, hinting at the triangular shape of the big cat he turned into on occasion, flared as he tested the air, as if he tried to scent me on Isabela’s body. “Here’s the lowdown on the Beasts. They’re organized crime, pure and simple. Human trafficking, drug and arms smuggling, contracted kilings … you name it, they do it. They swear loyalty to their organization above al else. Once a part of the Beasts, no one leaves, not alive anyway.” I couldn’t help myself, not even in Isabela’s body. I batted my eyes a little and made her voice high, light, and happy. Flirt should have been my middle name. “What a lovely sounding bunch.” He went down on one knee in front of me, like he was going to propose. Of course he was only being polite; he knows ful wel it’s hard for a spirit to move around in a channel’s body. That’s why I stayed sitting, and he was doing me the kindness of sinking his six feet plus frame down to where I wasn’t breaking Isabela’s neck to look him in the face. But boy, it made my heart go pitty-pat to have such a handsome man at my feet.

  Steady girl, I reminded myself. You’ve already got one boyfriend too many, and Gerald is head over tail about Patricia.

  He eyed me seriously. “What you’re going to see, it’s going to be plenty ugly. I want you to be prepared. The Beasts’ women are al human and regarded as property if not outright slaves. It’s nothing to the shifters to slap ‘em around or make them do –” here he paused and took a deep breath, “—acts of a personal nature in front of others.” Okay. Message received. Eww and gross. I don’t mind watching people put on a show, but it has to be consensual. I had the feeling what Gerald described wasn’t always that way.

  Tristan stepped closer, his hand briefly touching on Gerald’s shoulder. Dismissed, the werepanther gave me another rare smile, rose, and went back to leaning gorgeously on the desk.

  Tristan said, “The Beasts themselves are al werecreatures, mostly aligators and feral hogs. Besides the women, there’s only one non-shifter in the group. He’s a witch. Every chapter of the Beasts has one to keep their club warded.”

  Oops. The danger factor just went up a milionfold. “He’l be able to see me.” Al witches have second sight that alows them to see the dead. I’d run afoul of a particularly nasty one a few months back.

  From his oak perch, Gerald rumbled, “You’l have to hide when he’s around. This guy is a realy good witch and realy bad news.” Tristan nodded and patted my shoulder. “Dan can catch you up when you get to the club. Do you know where it is?” Everyone knew where the Beasts club was. The black-painted concrete building stuck out amongst the smal cottage-style homes that lined the same road. “Yeah, it’s right off Blount Highway.” A smile warmed Tristan’s sharp expression. “Try not to go off course.”

  Sheesh. No one would let me live down my many miscalculations in transporting from one place to another when I’d first become a ghost. I scowled at Tristan. “Ha ha. I haven’t landed in the wrong place in two months, thank you very much.”

  He went al businesslike again. When Tristan is a vampire, we have more of an employer-employee type of relationship. It bears little resemblance to the hot and heavy stuff we do during daylight hours.

  Not that I’d want him that way while he was a vampire. Shudder.

  “Have Dan get here as soon as possible. Be careful.”

  Sometimes he gets paternal on me, which I don’t appreciate at al. Never mind he’s got a good sixty-five years of existence over me. I am a grown woman. “Hey, this is me you’re talking too.” Tristan snorted. “In that
case, be very careful.” He motioned to someone behind me, and a lovely brunette female vampire, perpetualy in her mid-twenties until a wayward flame or the sun found her, stepped up to us. “Wendy, would you cal Jason and tel him I need him to channel Dan within the hour?” She gave him a quick nod and had a cel phone to her ear before a second could click by. Isabela doesn’t channel male ghosts. Way too intimate.

  I’d seen Wendy around before, but she usualy sat at a desk. “Did you give Penny the night off?” I asked Tristan.

  Tristan stared at me long and hard, and I realized his extra vampireness this evening had not as much to do with me as I’d initialy suspected. “Penny suffered her final death early this evening.” My mouth dropped. I hadn’t been close to Penny, but she’d been Tristan’s aide the entire time … seven months … I’d known him. A newer vamp, she’d had the bad taste to wear black, not at al flattering against her bluish-white skin. She’d been a secretary in life, and her skils as an aide were second to none.

  No one knows what happens to vampires when they are dead for real and for good. They never return as ghosts. They just disappear.

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice hushed with respectful shock.

  Tristan’s lips narrowed and his fangs glimmered into view for an instant. He kept most of his calm, but that little slip told me how furious he was. “She drank tainted blood. It’s Fulton Fals’ third such death in the last year. That’s why I need Dan off the Beasts and on this matter.”

  Most vampires didn’t get live donors like someone with Tristan’s clout did. They were forced to drink the pouched stuff you could pick up at any grocery or convenience store. Lately the more expensive Blood Potion No. 9, sold in slim black bottles dressed with fancy gold labels, had been flying off the shelves because dragons’ blood was somehow getting into the cheaper stuff. Dragon’s blood is lethal to vampires. A single drop, hard to detect in an eight-ounce pouch ful of human blood, wil eat up a vampire from the inside like acid. The tampering was claiming vampire lives al over the southeastern United States. Officials couldn’t track it down, and despite close inspections of al the packaging plants, bad blood was stil getting out.

  I usualy don’t like to touch Tristan when he’s a vampire, but I knew this was messing with his head bad. I took one of his cold hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Tristan.” He nodded. “She was a good assistant. I’ve ordered a shipment of Blood Potion for al my clutch until the matter of the tampered pouches gets resolved.”

  “That’s good.”

  “But for Penny, it’s too little, too late.” Again his fangs appeared, along with a red rim around his black eyes. I sat very stil, like a hiding rabbit waiting for an eagle to pass overhead. Tristan would never hurt Isabela’s body. He had too much control.

  But accidents happen around enraged vampires. There are graveyards ful of drained humans to attest to that.

  In the space of a breath, Tristan was cool and colected as ever. His voice smooth as butter, he said, “If nothing important happens at the Beasts’ club, I’l see you at daybreak?” I smiled, proud I’d kept Isabela’s body from trembling. “Sure.”

  He turned away, and I gave Gerald a little wave before exiting Isabela. Free and light as air again, I ran to Augustus to give him a hug and a peck on top of his feathered head. As far as I know, I’m the only person the grand ancient alows to have such liberties, and I take ful advantage.

  “My adored child wil break hearts; her own and others,” he intoned, one paw curling about my waist. “But keep yourself from harm, for your existence ensures mine.” That’s Augustus for you. Enigmatic as can be. I’ve gotten to where I hardly listen to his words; it’s the warmth in his voice that matters to me.

  I took off for the Beasts Motorcycle Club in high spirits. I felt a little bad that anticipation so easily replaced my shock at Penny’s second death even though I hadn’t known her that wel. But she was gone, bless her poor heart. I couldn’t help her, so I looked forward to having something exciting to do.

  * * * *

  I materialized in a sea of black-and-chrome, surrounded by motorcycles parked in front of the Beasts club. The scent of exhaust mixed uneasily with the rotting vegetation aroma of the nearby marsh and the rotten-egg funk of Fulton Fals’ pulp mil. The thick bass heartbeat of heavy metal music, punctuated by yels and laughter, issued from the building. A couple of security lights and the orange-yelow gleam of the streetlight behind me clearly showed the white designs painted over the black background of the painted windows. On the left one was the head of a snarling tusked feral hog. No Haloween mask ever looked more ferocious. The right window’s design was a hand giving the old single-finger salute. Charming, especialy when you considered the building sat right off Blount Highway, where heavy traffic ensured plenty of smal children would be driven by. The continuous wash of passing headlights proved my point.

  It sure looked like a good place for poltergeist play, the kind of mischievous spirit activity that might include lobbing rocks through the glass. Maybe if it happened often enough, these fools would cease and desist in painting such rude pictures.

  Then again, they might sic their witch on me. Not a pleasant idea.

  A rough voice, grumbly and warm, spoke up behind me. “You’re a bit overdressed for this party, baby girl.” I turned, only now realizing I stil wore my sweet confection of an early 1900’s dress. As Dan slid into view, I got al warm and tingly. My second boyfriend was as handsome as Tristan, though they looked nothing alike. For those of you old enough to remember the Marlboro Man cigarette ads, you’l have a pretty good idea of the rugged deliciousness that is Dan Saling.

  Unruly brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, a strong jaw, and face weathered to robust perfection made me feel al gooey inside. Despite looking fit as a fiddle, Dan had died young in his late thirties of a heart attack. He looks good. He feels even better. And he puts up with a lot of doo-doo from me.

  I grinned, thriled to see him. His assignment spying on the Beasts had kept us apart for days at a time, probably no accident since Tristan wants me al to himself. Then again, when Dan gets the chance, he keeps me from Tristan too. It might have been fun being fought over by two hunkalicious men had I not loved them both so much and hated to see them hurt. But I have issues with being tied to just one man.

  Boy, do I have issues.

  “You don’t like my dress?” I pretended to pout.

  “I love it. It’s just a bit much to hang out with this bunch.”

  “Wel, let me tone it down then.” With a thought, the dress and boots disappeared, leaving me in my birthday suit.

  Behind the concealment of his khaki trousers, I saw Dan salute me in a much better fashion than the painted hand on the building behind me. “Oh baby, you just found yourself a whole heapa trouble.” His clothes disappeared too, and he marched right up to me, his divine divining rod leading the way. Dan yanked me close for a bone-melting kiss, rough with furious passion. I was swept up in the almost animal savagery he displayed as he plundered my mouth with a ruthlessness that made my knees buckle.

  Dan broke the kiss, and without so much as a how-do-you-do, seized my upper arm and whirled me around. Then his hand was on the back of my neck, bending me over a black leather motorcycle seat.

  A flood of oil, gasoline and leather scents washed over me.

  Dan’s feet nudged mine apart, opening me up. I gasped as he shoved two thick-knuckled fingers in my pussy, thanking my stars that I’d gotten wet the instant I’d laid eyes on him. My big man was eager and demanding, and it made me eager too. I moaned as his fingers dove in and out of me. Ladies, start your engines. He had my motor revving in an instant.

  I responded to his uncompromising dominance. I’m submissive when it comes to sex, gladly handing over the reins to Tristan and Dan when hanky-panky gets going. Tristan’s an old pro at being a Master, but Dan’s polite upbringing left him not exploring his take-charge tendencies until he met me. He’s stil a little too careful for my tastes sometimes.
>
  This was not one of those times.

  His fingers worked me hard, making me shudder al over as he brought my ever-simmering libido to a ful boil. Little flashes of ecstasy, so sharp they were almost painful, had me jerking helplessly against the bike he had me pinned to. I wanted more. I wanted that big, thick cock of his that filed me so wel.

  “Please, Sir,” I gasped.

  His voice was as growly as any shifter. “That’s it. Beg me.” His hand moved faster, the liquid sounds we made growing louder. I thought I must be pouring like a rainspout.

  My voice had a desperate whine as those lightning pulses of pleasure nudged me close enough to taste bliss but not close enough to gorge. “Please put your cock in me, Sir. Please take me, take me hard.”

  “That how you want it, baby girl? You want it hard?”

  “Yes, Sir. Please.” My breath sobbed in and out. My toes dug into the tire-churned ground. I gripped cool metal parts in desperation.

  “How hard?”

  God, he loved to torture me. But that’s a Dom for you. They’re not happy until you’re pleading at the top of your lungs, completely mindless with need.

  “So hard it hurts. As hard as Sir wants me to have him. Please, Sir! I need your cock inside me,” I sobbed.

  Without another word, his fingers were gone. I felt his hand an instant later, fisting against my slit as he positioned himself for that first thrust. I made myself relax in anticipation. I’d asked for it to be hard.

  Dan would give me what I wanted with no mercy.

  He plunged in, burying himself to the hilt in me with one brutal thrust. I screamed with the excruciating delight of mixed pain and pleasure. And kept screaming as he pounded against me until my body adjusted to him and there was only delight in being ridden violently.