“So what’s the story?” he finally asked when the hot water had seeped into their aching bodies, allowing Cait, at least, to begin to feel human again.
“Mmmmm. My bosses, the Kith, managed to finally unravel most of this clusterfuck.”
“And?” Aiden prompted when she fell silent for too long. The heat was lulling her, making her sleepy, aches and pains notwithstanding.
“It was the civvie.”
“You mean the dead guy at Bartleby’s? What’s he got to do with it?”
“Everything,” she said, waking up more in remembered irritation. “Remember the guy with the hoodie? And my nightmare? The one about my predecessor?”
“Meteor man. Helicopter, alien attack, blammo, Aurelian fireworks,” he said in shorthand. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Seems the fireworks were a ruse. He didn’t die. Not in the explosion anyway.”
“Whoa.” Aiden’s surprised motion made waves in the tub. Water sloshed over the edge, but that’s what towels were for. She tossed one off the stack onto the floor to absorb the mess, before turning the hot water back on to warm up the tub.
“Wait, he faked his own death? How does that connect?”
“You’re faster at figuring it out than me.” She cracked one eye open to watch the play of emotions run across his face. Surprise, disbelief, annoyance.
“Yeah, pissed me off too. He wanted to come home, be home. On that, I can’t blame him. But he took it too far, using knowledge of the government from his former life to get to the senators. It was about the cows, too. I was on the right track there. Evidently he blackmailed a Perbadt smuggler he caught here, stealing cows.
“He should have turned the smuggler in, but instead, he blackmailed it. Got a cut of the smuggling operation. He got the beef through the senators, then the smuggler got it off-planet and sold it for a tidy profit.”
She considered the money for a moment. “I’m betting he made millions, and so did the senators. I’ll have to find that money, for the record, anyway.”
“Will you let the senators’ families keep their shares?”
“Probably.”
“How did the Aurelian come into play?”
“The Kith said the ST forced the Aurelian down. It was on a mission to kill the smuggler. The ST broke all kinds of laws and social codes when he didn’t kill it, but used a…well, there’s no equivalent in English…think of it as a compulsion device, to send it back to its people with its mission—to kill the subverted smuggler—undone. Bad idea, by the way.”
“The worst, if today’s the result,” he muttered, caressing her calf.
She lost her train of thought as he also offered her a glass of wine. Drinking it, admiring him in all his aliveness, she couldn’t remember what she’d been saying.
“So it comes down to payback being a bitch, right?”
She refocused on the conversation.
“Revenge for the Aurelian, payback for the smuggler, who the Aurelian killed, by the way, in South Dakota earlier this week. There was another out-of-season meteor shower, or so they say. That kept nudging me, in the back of my mind. I knew there was something about South Dakota.”
“So, what now? No beef out there?”
“Something like that. Sanctions all around. Some extra patrolling for me in cattle country.”
“You’ll look good in chaps,” he joked.
She laughed, until he began to rub her aching feet. At that she moaned in delight.
“Aiden,” she said between murmurs of delight. “Do you have a valid passport?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’ve got a week’s leave.” She hoped she sounded more nonchalant than she was. She really wanted him to say yes. “I’d like it if we could spend some time together that doesn’t involve me nearly getting you killed. That’ll give us a start on…talking.”
“A few other things too,” he said. “I like the sound of that.” His roaming hands stilled, and she opened her eyes to see what was up, see his expression. “And when the week is over, Cait?”
The question she’d been dreading.
“I have to go.”
“And will you come back? To Earth?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t say anything else for a bit, struggling to control her sorrow, keep her emotions from brimming over into hysterical, weak, female tears.
Finally, relaxing as he continued to rub, she managed to say, “But I don’t know where my next drop will be. Could be Australia. Could be Poughkeepsie for all I know.”
“Don’t need a passport for New York.”
“I know. But you do for Sydney.”
“I’ve never been to Sydney.” He slid a hand back up her calf, kneading the muscles there into submission, blissing her out. “Does this mean you’re going to contact me on your next mission? What about secrecy and spy business?”
She waited a long time before answering, figuring how to phrase it, debating how much to reveal. Finally, she gave it up. He deserved the truth. All of it, from here on.
“I didn’t tell them about you. Or about magic. The bosses don’t care how I do the job, simply that I get it done.” She groaned aloud, enjoying the relief as he hit a particularly tight spot. “If they knew about you, they’d have me up on charges, or dead. They didn’t say a word. And neither did I.”
“So I can be your love slave?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, letting his hands ride higher on her thighs as he reversed his position in the tub. More water sloshed out, but this time, she ignored it.
“When your work doesn’t preclude it,” she murmured.
“I’d like that,” he said, his gaze hot, his body braced above hers in the warm water.
“Me too.”
* * *
Kithship Malkali (Star’s Light)
Rim Planet Orbit, *****7690-90384, Sixth Sector (Earth)
Slip-Retrieval: ST Patten (Earth Human)
Mission Successful
Ten days later, Cait returned to BWI Airport, her large rolling bags trundling along behind her. Her heart was both heavy and light.
Heavy, as it always was when she was leaving. Light, because she had something—someone—to look forward to on her next drop.
She found a seat in the ticketing area on a broad wooden bench. A black dot was the only thing marring its polished teak surface. She sat on it, pulling her bags close to keep them out of the way of other passengers.
With time to wait, to think, she remembered the medal, or coin, or whatever that Tank had tossed to her. She’d shoved it into the carryon bag, fully intending to give it a closer look while she and Aiden were in Aruba. She’d hardly opened the bag.
Remembering it now, she dug it out. She unwrapped the fabric surrounding it, the remains of the pocket from the jeans she’d cut off after the fight.
Gleaming dully in the fluorescent lights was a coin from Meena Pal. Remembering the splash on the canal, the feeling of being watched, she began to smile. The winking dog walker with the extra eyelids hadn’t been human after all. It seemed that Meena Pal’s gratitude went beyond mere remuneration and bonuses.
Powering up her PDA, she tapped the stylus until she came to the entry on the watery planet. Comparing the coins listed, she finally came to an entry that matched.
Usually given as a luck piece to traveling friends.
Well, that would fit. She put her stylus away and shut down operations.
“I’ll take all the luck I can get,” she murmured, slipping the coin into her pocket. Hopefully it would give her enough luck that she wouldn’t have to sit too long on her black dot waiting for pickup.
She opened her novel, not only a prop this time but something she actually wanted to read.
A greeting card fell into her lap.
Grinning like a kid at Christmas, she broke the seal and pulled the colorful note out of the envelope. Two smaller pieces of cardstock dropped into her hand.
Tickets to an event at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY.
&
nbsp; Frowning, she read the card. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring the words Aiden had written. She blinked them away.
Hello, Blondie, my love.
Hope this makes you smile. Just so you know, your brother’s Gold Medal fencing exhibition is at Cornell in January, after New Years. If you’re back, we’ll go.
He’d written several other things, but she could hardly make sense of them, through her shock.
The world began to blur around her, and sound faded as the pick-up process began. The card, the words, however held steady.
I’m glad we finally got to that long story. I’ll treasure it for the wonderful thing it is.
And I’ll be looking for you. My way…
Love, Aiden.
The End
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for trying The Tentacle Affaire, A Slip Traveler Novel. The next book in the series will be out in December of 2015!
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About the Author
Jeanne Adams is an award-winning author, as well as a sought-after speaker, who knows a thing or two about getting rid of the evidence…
Jeanne has written for Kensington/Zebra since 2007. Featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine, and other publications, her third book Deadly Little Secrets (2011) and fourth book, Deadly Little Lies (2012) were both hailed as “One of the best Suspense Books of the Year!” by Romantic Times.
THE TENTACLE AFFAIRE, is her fifth novel, and first Urban Fantasy with a strong romantic element.
In addition to THE TENTACLE AFFAIRE, you can find her *****FaithfulDefenders romantic suspense series, starting with DEAD RUN, online. In addition, a romantic novella, DEADLY DELIVERY, and BEHIND ENEMY LINES, a WWII-based paranormal novella, are also online.
Jeanne is also a multi-published non-fiction writer and marketing consultant with credits in magazines such as Forbes, FORTUNE, and Nature. She worked in corporate marketing for 25 years, as well as for government and public organizations.
Jeanne served on the Board of Directors of the Romance Writers of America, and is currently the Program Coordinator for the Nora Roberts Writing Institute.
She loves to hear from readers!!! So please go find her at www.JeanneAdams.com, www.RomanceBandits.com, on Twitter at @JeanneAdams or at www.Facebook.com/JeanneAdamsAuthor.
BILL THE VAMPIRE
The Tome of Bill
Part 1
Rick Gualtieri
Copyright © 2011 Rick Gualtieri
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is greatly appreciated.
All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
For Spike, a good cat.
The Day I Died
*Thud, thud* Okay, somebody needs to turn off their goddamn stereo before I put my foot up their ass. God forbid a guy be allowed to sleep off a major bender without some dickhead blasting their bass to eleven. At least, I think it was a major bender. I know I’m asleep, but I can still feel the room spinning. Yeah, I’ve gotta be drunk off my ass.
The funny thing is, I don’t remember getting shitfaced, although that doesn’t mean anything. The best parties are sometimes the ones you don’t remember. Still, I’m not even sure I went to a party last night. It is morning, right? I can’t see anything. Well, duh, my eyes are closed.
Okay, my eyes aren’t opening. I guess I must be pretty trashed.
*Thud, thud* There it is again. For fuck’s sake! Some days I hate living here. There’s always some little white bread, teenaged douche pumping out Tupac from his daddy’s Beemer because he’s sure he can relate to life on the streets. Although why is it so loud? Maybe the window’s open. I should get up and close it. Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m out cold. I can’t really check the window in my current state. Oh, well, maybe I’ll get lucky and some real gangstas will come cruising down the block and pop a few caps in homey’s upper middle class ass.
*Thud, thud* ARGH! It’s really starting to piss me off now. Huh? What the hell was that? Holy shit, are those voices? Maybe I’m not at home, after all. If that’s the case, I must still be at a party. Oh, crap. I hate passing out at someone else’s place. I really hope they aren’t drawing dicks on my face. The last time that happened, the fuckers used a permanent Sharpie. Let me tell you how much fun that was to scrub off. Probably took off five layers of skin, and you could still see it. Tom was an asshole about it, too. He kept pretending to be helpful just to get a laugh. “You want me to go to the store for you, dickface?” “I’ll get it. Hello? Oh, Bill? Sorry, he can’t come to the phone right now. He’s too busy trying to wipe cock off his face. Can you call back later?” One of these days, I’ve really gotta get my own apartment.
*Thud, thud* Okay, it’s getting a little lower now. The song must be ending. I still can’t make out what the voices are saying, but at least it doesn’t sound like laughter. That’s good. Hopefully it means they haven’t started using my face as an easel yet. Maybe I can still wake up before that happens.
Jeez, my body still isn’t responding. Man, what the hell was I drinking? Even passed out, I still feel seriously fucked up. I’m wondering if maybe I was doing a little more than drinking. I vaguely remember Ed saying something about scoring a few joints. Shit! I hope they weren’t laced with Drano or something – although that might explain why I’m lying here, having an internal soliloquy. Hold on, though, didn’t that happen last week?
*Thud, thud* Why does that sound so familiar? I don’t usually listen to any shit rap music, but damn if that doesn’t ring a bell. It’s right on the tip of my tongue…UGH! Speaking of my tongue, what the hell is that taste in my mouth? Oh, shit. Please don’t let me have puked. There’s nothing worse than puking at a party and waking up in it. Nobody ever gets laid after that. Well, okay, puke or not, it’s been a while since I scored at a party, but it could still happen…maybe. Although not if I’m lying in a swimming pool of my own spew.
Crap! I hope someone turned me on my side. The last thing I want to do is pull a Hendrix. Okay, okay, relax. No one is that big an asshole. If I can hear them talking, then that probably means I’m all right.
*Thud, thud* It was weird tasting puke, anyway; kind of coppery. Oh, okay. Maybe I didn’t puke. I probably bit the inside of my mou
th instead. That makes sense. Hopefully, I just bit the inside of my mouth. Damn! What if this is some kind of seizure? I could have bitten off my own damn tongue, and these assholes are just standing around debating the artistic merits of penises on my face. Maybe that’s why I can’t wake up. I popped a blood vessel in my brain and even now, I’m spiraling into a coma.
Still, I don’t think I’d be quite as lucid if I were in a coma. Then again, I haven’t been in enough comas to know what it’d be like. All right, calm down. I’d probably feel it if my tongue was bitten off. I think that would be a wee bit on the painful side. Okay, I need to try and concentrate. Let’s see…I can still taste that crap in my mouth, but I can sorta feel my tongue, too. At least I think I can.
I tried moving it around a bit inside my mouth. Yeah, I still had a tongue…OW! What the hell was that? Had my tongue a second ago, but I’m not so sure now. What the hell? Did someone stick a razor blade in my freaking mouth?
*Thud, thud* Thank God. The music was barely a whisper now. That damn song just went on forever. It’s funny that I can hear the bass, but nothing else, though. It still sounds so familiar. Almost like a…
Oh, no.
That can’t be right.
*Thud, thud*
It can’t be.
Please don’t let that be my heart that I’m hearing.
*Thud*
Oh, shit!
I am choking on my own puke.
Or having a seizure.
*Thud*
Or a goddamn brain aneurysm.
*Thu…*
Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!
Okay, I shouldn’t worry. I’m sure someone will start CPR on me.
Any second now.
Any minute now.
Come on, people. I only have a few minutes here before that whole brain death thing.
FUCK!
Please start beating again.
Modern Magic Page 122
