Save the Last Vamp for Me (Discord Jones Book 3)

by Gayla Drummond

  Save the Last Vamp for Me

  Discord Jones, Volume 3

  Gayla Drummond

  Published by Katarr Kanticles Press, 2014.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SAVE THE LAST VAMP FOR ME

  First edition. August 28, 2014.

  Copyright © 2014 Gayla Drummond.

  ISBN: 978-1502241368

  Written by Gayla Drummond.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  About the Author

  One

  “Oh, hell no.” That was my instant reaction upon entering Mr. Whitehaven’s office and confirming the reason for the after-dark Thursday appointment. There was a vampire waiting.

  Not just any vampire either, but Derrick. He smiled, arranging the ivory lace flowing from the cuffs of his hunter green, antique-looking jacket. He’d been changed young, so no crinkles appeared at the corners of his dark brown eyes. His hair was brown too: An incredibly disciplined mop of light brown curls that reached his shoulders. The blond streaks artfully decorating it were fake, because “vampire” equals no sunning. He looked as though he should be gracing the cover of a Gothic romance.

  Mr. Whitehaven’s office was the largest in our building, a nearly square space at the end of both the hallway and the building. One wall sported floor-to-ceiling shelves, fronted by glass doors. The doors were locked with a spell. I’d seen the boss open them once, to pull out a sword and dagger capable of killing demons. There was an entire treasure trove of curiosities on those shelves I’d never quite managed to find the time to delve into. Considering the massive amount of shiny, all of it was probably worth quite a lot of money.

  Of course, Mr. Whitehaven was wealthy. He drove an expensive SUV, and being eight feet tall, more than likely had to have his suits custom made. I also knew he was one of the first supes to start a business after the Melding, and one of the most successful of them at that endeavor.

  His long hair, always neatly smooth, was the white of new-fallen snow, and his eyes were reddish brown. I’d seen them glow crimson a couple of times in the past. He looked large, but sort of gaunt, as though he’d once had more meat on his bones. Probably as a much younger man.

  While I didn’t know exactly how old he was—asking some supes their ages could result in a headache from simply trying to comprehend their answers—I did know he was really, really old. Possibly ancient. Yet not a wrinkle or age spot marred his skin, even though he appeared to have a light tan.

  I’d been told my boss was a highly respected member of the supe community.

  Too bad that respect didn’t extend to his employees like diplomatic immunity. Then again, it didn’t keep the occasional elf from trying to pull a fast one either.

  I didn’t return the vampire’s smile, too busy meeting my boss’s reddish-brown gaze. “I don’t work for vampires.”

  “No.” Mr. Whitehaven agreed in his usual deep, calm baritone. “You’re in my employ.”

  While we stared at each other, Nick slipped past me to take a seat on the couch. My boyfriend and partner wore a faint grin, because he finds the fact I always cave to our boss funny. Probably because he never wins when we argue.

  I managed a whole minute before heaving a loud sigh. “Fine.”

  Once I’d plopped down on the couch next to Nick, Derrick chuckled. “You’re still holding a grudge?”

  “Your goons destroyed my car.”

  “I’m paying for the repairs.”

  “And you beat up my friend.” The friend being Logan Sayer, a tiger shifter I’d met the same night the vamp and I had had our first face-to-face.

  “We didn’t kill him, and he wasn’t exactly easy to ‘beat up’, Miss Jones.”

  I glared. “And you cracked my freaking skull.”

  Derrick pursed his lips, his brows drawing slightly together. “I do apologize for that. I overreacted due to your reputation of being a bit hot-headed.”

  I did have a tendency to roast vampires, using pyrokinesis, when they didn’t back off. Under the circumstances that night, he was lucky I hadn’t roasted first and asked questions later. Not really having a good comeback, I crossed my arms and kept glaring.

  Childish of me, but that’s how I react sometimes. I was fifteen when the Melding occurred and all the supernatural types rejoined Planet Earth. Not that I had experienced that craziness, because I passed out at exactly midnight, and spent three years in a coma. Things had mostly settled down by the time I woke up—not that I paid attention to any world-level changes then. Imagine passing out as a fifteen-year-old and waking up eighteen. Next, imagine right after being told you weren’t exactly a kid anymore, you discovered you had a bushel of psychic abilities you had no clue how to control. Then toss on discovering your parents were divorced, and that your dad had remarried.

  Short version, I’d been a little busy with figuring out mental and emotional things and working at physical therapy for a while. Though my twenty-third birthday was less than two weeks away, I often felt younger.

  Nick patted my leg, his grin full-fledged and his chocolate brown eyes bright. He was a shifter—wolf—the boss had hired to babysit me a few months before. “Show some courtesy to the client.”

  I thought about sticking out my tongue at him, but didn’t. He’d said the same thing I often told Percy, the parrot familiar of Kate, the final member of Arcane Solutions. He was right, because you should always be polite to those who made it possible for you to earn a living. Since I was busy house hunting, and had four new dependents, continuing to earn a living topped my list of ‘Important Things to Do’.

  Pasting on a smile, I looked at the vampire. “What’s the case?”

  “I’m here on behalf of our council, on the matter of six murders over the past month.”

  “Humans?” When he shook his head, I couldn’t resist. “Not seeing the problem.”

  “I’ve yet to finish. It’s a political issue, as all six were members of the current majority party.” The vamp paused, studying me. “There are two main parties, Miss Jones. The majority party, which I’m also a member of, prefers to treat humans as donors rather than prey.”

  “The other party’s gung-ho on the prey thing.”

  “Unfortunately, yes, and it’s a public relations nightmare.”

  “I bet.” Boy, did I. Something the supernaturals had quickly figured out were the strides humans had made in weapons technology. Technology in general meant humans weren’t as easy to scare, or to hunt. From what I’d heard, things like ultraviolet lights had been a big shock to them, vampires in particular. And with the vamps gathered in one location, bombing them wouldn’t be a problem.

  “As long as we continue to hold the majority on the council, we can limit the number of human deaths. However, we are the majority party by a slim margin, and three of the victims held council seats. Those empty seats will be filled by whomever can gain enough support to take them.”

  “So, what exactly do you think I
can do that you can’t? You’re a powerful telepath, and I doubt you have the same scruples I do about digging around in other people’s minds.”

  Derrick chuckled. “That’s exactly why I can’t lead the investigation. I’m biased in favor of my party, therefore motivated to discover a conspiracy to weaken it.”

  “Maybe you don’t know this, but Cordi’s pretty biased too,” Nick said.

  “I’m fully aware of Miss Jones’ prejudice against my kind. She would prefer we didn’t exist, which makes her relatively impartial. I’m certain she won’t hesitate to make her displeasure over being forced to work with vampires clear.”

  I said, “Maybe I’d dance on your ashes if every vamp in Santo Trueno spontaneously combusted, but I’m going to do my best to save human lives. So that kind of makes me less prejudiced toward those of you who don’t want to kill people.”

  “This isn’t a matter that can be handled by human police. You’re a psychic, therefore not human, and thus, the only acceptable investigator to handle the matter since I’m unable to. All members of the council agreed to hiring you.” He glanced at Mr. Whitehaven before adding, “Of course, due to your well-known dislike of us, being in the Barrows as often as you’ll need to be will increase the likelihood of attempts on your life.”

  “Pfft.” I waved my hand, pretending confidence I didn’t really feel after that statement, and wondering if I should dispute his “not human” remark. “I’ve been there plenty of times without getting killed.”

  “Be that as it may, I suggest that you bring more than your partner.” He lifted his chin, indicating Nick. “You’re an ally of the White Queen. Ask her for another bodyguard or two, and consider bringing your hound as well.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” I was definitely doing both, the first as soon as possible.

  “Excellent. If you’ll come to my residence at seven tomorrow evening, I’ll have everything we’ve gathered so far ready for you.”

  “Sure.” I didn’t need the address, since I knew exactly where he lived.

  The vampire stood, inclining his head at my boss. “My thanks for your assistance.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Derrick gave me a nod next. “Miss Jones.”

  I nodded back, and he left the office. No one spoke until we heard the squeak of the glass door that signaled the vamp had left the building. I frowned. “This is going to be fun.”

  My boss ignored that in favor of changing the subject. “Have you found a new domicile yet?”

  An irresistible subject change. I’d had to move home, and the overcrowding was driving me crazy. Not to mention, I worried constantly that someone of a not-friendly persuasion might follow me or otherwise find out where I was living. That would put my mom and Tonya at risk.

  “Not yet, but we’re going to look at another place tomorrow. Apartments are out, and there’s been something wrong with all the houses I’ve looked at so far. Too many neighbors too close, or too small, and a lot have needed work.”

  Nick threw in his opinion. “She’s really picky.”

  “Yes, I am. It needs to be as close to perfect as possible because it’s a long-term investment. A house is one of the most expensive purchases people can make.” I didn’t want to end up with a money pit, because the idea of a mortgage was scary enough.

  We chatted with the boss for a bit, before leaving to have a late dinner, something we’d been doing a lot. Work had been steady, and privacy hard to come by. After all, I was living with two other women and what felt like four dozen dogs.

  “Am I staying the night?” Nick asked while we waited for our steaks. We’d picked a place that had recently opened, and I swayed a little to the rock music playing just loud enough. We’d been seated near the grill, which had been designed to be a focal point of the dining area, the rest of the kitchen tucked away behind it. Burning mesquite scented the air, and the sizzle of steaks made my mouth water.

  It’s always all about the steaks, so I hadn’t given the place my seal of approval yet.

  “Sure. Just remember to be quiet when we go in. Mom’s been putting in a lot of hours, trying to set things up for the Halloween dinner for the homeless.”

  He promised he would be, but that promise was blown out of the water a little later, when we walked into the house and the Chihuahuas went nuts. Normal dogs didn’t like shifters in general, but they really didn’t like wolf shifters. My Pit Crew, as I’d taken to calling Bone, Red, and Diablo, ex-fighting dogs, tolerated him because I’d asked them to, as did Kyra, Tonya’s Husky.

  But the Chihuahuas refused to ignore his presence each time he walked into the house, alerting everyone that one of the “stinky animal people” had arrived. Even Speck, the youngest of them, joined in though Nick had made great efforts to become friends with him since I planned to keep the little, black pup.

  I heard my mom’s bedroom door open as we tried to shush the yapping. “Cordi?”

  “Yeah, sorry, Mom. Nick’s staying the night.”

  “All right. I’ll see you two in the morning.” Her door shut again. Tonya didn’t appear or say anything, so she’d either slept through the noise, or had grown used to it enough not to worry.

  “Okay, seriously, enough,” I told the Chihuahuas. “Back to bed.”

  They grumbled and fussed, but returned to the various spots they slept in around the living room and settled down.

  I grabbed Nick’s hand, waved at my Pit Crew lying on the couch, and hauled him behind me to my room with Speck prancing before us.

  Two

  I glanced at my phone, where I had the map feature on-screen. “It’s just ahead, on the left.”

  Nick nodded in response. He hadn’t exactly been onboard with my house hunting idea at first, but after nearly a month of my living at my mom’s, most of his discontent had faded. Last night had cleared the rest away, since he’d run into Tonya while returning from the bathroom. He’d been wearing my short, purple robe with little pink hearts dotted all over it.

  Scrunched in the back seat of Nick’s truck was most of my crew: The pit bulls and hound would be reporting back to Speck on the living situation I found for us. The five canines would all be living with me. Leglin, the hound, was bound to me by blood magic. Bone, Diablo, and Red were strays when I ran into them, and before that, each had done time in a dogfighting ring. They bore the scars to prove it.

  “There’s the sign. You’d have a lot of privacy out here,” Nick observed. Thick evergreen bushes that were taller than he was lined each side of the two-lane road. The realtor’s sign he’d mentioned was barely visible. “How many acres?”

  “Twenty-four.” My dog buds needed room to roam, and with other issues to consider, I’d given up on the idea of a house inside the city. One issue, the most important, was not having any close neighbors who might end up cannon fodder. On paper, this house looked to have everything my dad and I had listed as needs. It had been on the market long enough that the price had dropped several times, bringing it down enough to be affordable for me. The most major downside to it was that it’d take me a half-hour or more to drive to work every day, even though it was only a couple of miles outside city limits. “Ooh, the drive’s paved. Good.”

  Nick turned his truck down the drive. “Lots of trees.”

  “Yeah.” I glanced back at the dogs. “What do you guys think so far?”

  “I’m a city dog.” Diablo, a black pit missing part of one lip, gave a disparaging sniff. Leglin nosed his shoulder before looking at me.

  “We will be happy wherever you choose, Mistress.”

  The super-sized black and tan hound’s eagerness to please put a smile on my face, even though I said, “We all need to like the new place, not just me.”

  “I think I like it,” Nick said as the house came into view. “But it needs a paint job.”

  “Yeah.” I stared at the two-story house, taking in the peeling white paint on the window frames and porch. The siding was some sort of
charcoal gray rock. “No one’s lived here for nearly eight years, but Rita said everything checks out and is up to code.”

  None of the windows were broken. The wide front porch, which ran the length of the house, didn’t look like it was sagging anywhere. The drive went to a detached two-car garage on the right side of the house, ending at the concrete pad in front of it. A sidewalk led to the front porch steps, between strips of nearly knee-high grass. “Needs mowing too. You guys watch out for snakes, okay?”

  A chorus of assent sounded from the back seat as Nick parked in front of the garage and turned the truck’s engine off. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” I bounced out, hoping the house would prove to be the One. It was fun looking at houses, but a lot of stress too, trying to pick one that had everything we required, was within my budget, and didn’t need a lot of expensive work. After all, we’d be in whichever one we selected for a long, long time. Pulling the strip of paper with the code for the key lockbox out of my purse, I said, “Inside first.”

  We exited the truck and trooped up to the front porch. Once I had the key in hand, I unlocked the door, and pushed it open. “Wow.”

  The house had undergone remodeling a few times, and currently boasted a mostly open plan on the ground floor. Standing at the door, I took in the living area to the left—with a fireplace!—that flowed into a dining area, and was set slightly apart from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. A staircase led up to the second floor. I walked in and looked into the first door on the right. “This is the den.” It was a decent-sized room with built-in shelves. Moving down to the next door, I found a half-bath. “Guest bathroom.” The last door led into a utility room with a door leading out to the back porch. Turning from it, I walked directly into the kitchen.

  It had loads of granite countertops and cabinet space, a deep double sink with a window facing the backyard over it, and the stove and fridge were stainless steel. A few small additions, and it’d be a chef’s dream. “I want this kitchen.”