Wuthering Frights (Dulcie O'Neil)

by H. P. Mallory

  He nodded as if I had a point. "Yes, sweet, I was quite overcome by the fact that I was experiencing any human emotion at all. It took a few days for me to come to terms with it."

  I just shook my head and rolled my eyes. "You are truly one of a kind, Bram." He smiled with fangs and I couldn't help shrinking back into my seat. Sometimes Bram could be ... slightly intimidating. But it was never wise to reveal one’s fear to a vampire, especially this one. I sat up straight and glared at him. "Why did you want me to come here?"

  Bram nodded and eyed me narrowly, his jaw tight. "I have been battling myself over whether or not to reach out to you ... dare I say it? To help you."

  "Really? Let me guess, you looked inward and discovered you actually had a heart, after all."

  He frowned as if he didn’t find my comment amusing and looked down his nose at me. "I do care for you, more than I prefer to say."

  "Well, I care for you too, Bram," I said, feeling a little forced to reciprocate. I mean, it was obvious he had information for me and the best way to obtain it was by being nice and appreciative. I had to admit that a part of me, (albeit a very small part), actually felt sorry for Bram because he seemed so helplessly infatuated with me. Furthermore, it wasn’t like him to go out on a limb like he always did for me, especially since he was the most narcissistic, self-centered, egomaniacal person I'd ever met.

  He smiled broadly at that, and almost looked innocent. Almost. Then the smile on his lips dropped and he inhaled dramatically, which was ridiculous, considering he had no respiratory system. "All hope is not lost," he said simply.

  It was my turn to take a deep breath and count to ten before I lost my temper. "What does that mean?"

  "Last we spoke, you intimated that you were ‘in deep,’ is how I believe you termed it, with your father's business?" he asked as I nodded, eager for him to continue, which he did. "There is a way out."

  I felt my eyes go wide as my heart sped up. "A way out ... of what?"

  "Your situation with Melchior O'Neil."

  I didn't say anything for a few seconds, my surprise overwhelming me. "And what is the way out?" I asked finally.

  Bram arched a brow, but remained quiet as if he were still debating over whether or not to tell me what was on his mind. "It is called The Resistance," he said simply. His silence told me if I sought any more information, he wanted me to dig for it. It was like trying to have a serious conversation with the Sphinx, who only offered riddles.

  I reminded myself to keep my cool since I should have expected this. Conversations with Bram amounted to playing the game of Twenty Questions—me asking the questions and his answers amounting to no more than tidbits of what basically seemed like nonsense. "What is The Resistance?"

  "An underground movement," he started, and when I hoped he'd expound, he simply stopped talking again. Yep, my work was cut out for me and this was going to be tiring.

  I sighed. "What underground?"

  He shook his head, as if irritated that he had to go back to the beginning. "There is an underground ..."

  "Where?"

  "It does not exist anywhere," he snapped. "The underground is termed so because it is a hush-hush society. And in this underground, there has arisen a group who call themselves The Resistance."

  "And what are they resisting?" I asked, although I had a pretty good guess where Bram was going with this explanation.

  "They resist your father's rule," he said simply. "They resist servitude, dictatorship and tyranny." All the things my father advocated.

  Although I sort of had been half expecting to hear the words from his lips, I still couldn't conceal the shock that made me inhale sharply. "How many are there?"

  Bram shook his head. "I do not know."

  "Are you part of The Resistance, Bram?"

  He eyed me hungrily, arching one of his brows. "No, although I have their ear."

  That was how Bram did most things in his life—he was always on the periphery, never quite involved enough to get his hands dirty, and far enough away to avoid reprisals.

  "Then who is the leader?"

  Bram shook his head. "I am not at liberty to say."

  "Okay then, what can The Resistance do about my father? Are they actually a legitimate threat?" Bram studied me for a moment or two, and it was almost as if he were sizing me up, trying to judge whether or not he could trust me. "Bram, I want nothing more than to put this lifestyle and the tyranny of my father behind me. You should know me well enough by now to realize that."

  He dropped his suspicious expression and merely nodded, apparently convinced of my loyalty.

  "Are they a real threat to my father?" I repeated. "Can they take him down?"

  Bram simply nodded. "They continue to recruit sympathizers to the cause daily. The Resistance is stronger now than it has ever been and, yes, I consider them a compelling threat."

  And that was when I realized Bram was right—there was a way out of this mess and I had a feeling this Resistance was just the ticket. As to Knight's safety? I'd already worked that one out. When I met with Caressa, that would be the first topic I discussed. And once Knight's safety was secured, I believed The Resistance would be the best force to dethrone my father and strip him of his power permanently. Well, that is, as long as their army was large enough to take on my father's.

  "I need to meet with them," I said urgently. "I need to tell them everything I know so we can stop my father together."

  Bram held up his hands to quiet me down. "It is a secret society, sweet, and if they knew I had broken their trust by relaying this information to you, they would never forgive me and my relationship with them would be destroyed."

  I frowned and hunched back into my seat. "So what should I do then? How am I supposed to get into touch with them?"

  "They will call for you when the time is right," he said simply. "Until then, I have their ear."

  I suddenly realized what he was getting at. He wanted me to spill the beans, and like playing a game of telephone, he would pass the information on. At this point, I had to seriously weigh my options and more specifically, my trust in Bram. Because just as Bram lived on the periphery of doing good, he also lived on the periphery of doing not so good. It wouldn't have come as an enormous surprise, consequently, to learn that Bram was employed by my father. I doubted he was, but how could I really be sure?

  I eyed him speculatively as the conflict of whether or not to trust him continued to rage inside my head.

  "Shall I provide you with some information to prove that all I have said is true?" he asked as I realized my emotions were as visible as the nose on my face.

  I just nodded and watched him smile and study me for a few moments before he opened his mouth to speak again. "Were you notified of a certain letter to the ANC which warned ..."

  But he never was able to finish his sentence. Instead, my mouth dropped open and I interrupted him. "That was you?" I asked, dawning realization instantly replacing the shock on my face. "You left the note with the ANC?"

  Bram simply nodded. "Although there was no need to."

  "Why?"

  He leaned back against his chair and stretched like a cat. "The Resistance has eyes and ears everywhere, Dulcie sweet."

  "In the ANC?" I asked, stunned, as I tried to imagine who could be the eyes and ears in our office. Trey? Elsie? Lottie, the super annoying pixie? Sam? I gulped. Knight?

  "Everywhere," Bram said simply while buffing his nails against his lapel. "The note was a mere test."

  I swallowed hard, disliking the sound of that. "A test?"

  He nodded and glanced at me, his eyes suddenly harsh. "A test to evaluate what happened to the highly valuable information."

  I realized then that I'd failed the so-called test. I sat back in Bram's chair and felt like I might pass out because my heart was beating so quickly. My stomach dropped to the floor. "I told Quillan, Bram," I said in a small voice, shaking my head as I realized the extent of my mistake. "I did exactly what I shoul
dn’t have."

  Bram nodded, but there was no sign of disappointment or blame in his eyes. They were uncannily hollow, devoid of emotion. "It will be difficult for you to gain their trust," he said while raising his brows to emphasize the sentiment. "You cannot play both sides of the coin."

  "I had no choice!" I railed back at him, my voice sounding slightly hysterical. "I have to do what my father says because Knight's life is on the line!"

  But Bram's lips were tight as he studied me. "The choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility," he said, adding, "Eleanor Roosevelt."

  I nodded, because he was right. I couldn't play both sides. If I wanted The Resistance to trust me, I couldn't feed their information to Melchior. "What do I do, Bram?" I asked, in a flat tone.

  "You make your decision and then stick with it," he answered.

  I decided then to tell him everything I knew—everything about the Draoidheil, my father's dreams for absolute rule, my plan to visit Caressa, everything. If Bram had the “ear of The Resistance” even though they weren't yet prepared to trust me, he could be my vehicle to reach them. That's all there was to it. So I spilled my guts about everything, naming names, places, events. I must have blabbed for a good ten minutes straight before I had to come up for air.

  "I see," Bram said at last. With a single nod, he let it be known that he'd digested everything I'd just regurgitated.

  "Can you tell them everything for me?" I asked, perched on the edge of my seat.

  But he shook his head. "There is no guarantee that they would trust me with such information."

  My heart dropped and I clenched my eyes shut tightly as I rubbed my temples, wondering why I’d bothered explaining everything if he wasn't going to do anything with the information.

  "You must stick to your plan and visit Caressa," Bram said firmly.

  "Is Caressa in The Resistance?" I asked, my eyes going wide.

  Bram simply shook his head. "No, but her word is valued much more highly than mine. If I were to deliver your information, it would only be as good as an anonymous note."

  "They would doubt its validity?" I asked, although I saw the truth in his words. Anything that came from Caressa, a highly ranked officer of the ANC, would never be questioned. And I was sure whoever comprised this Resistance was well aware that Caressa detested my father. Even though she'd never said as much, it was obvious. Which meant she must have a friend in The Resistance. Yep, I was spot on when I'd decided to talk to Caressa. She really was the only person left capable of preventing the Draoidheil delivery from going as Melchior planned.

  "Very good, Dulcie sweet," Bram said as he stood up, indicating that our meeting was over.

  "Thanks," I said, eyeing the bookshelf, trying to decipher where the doorway was. "How the hell am I supposed to find my way out of here?"

  Bram smiled and then shook his head. "You may use the front entrance. I was unaware of your altered appearance," he finished, with a dismayed glance at my hair again. "You look nothing like Dulcie O'Neil."

  I just shook my head and rolled my eyes, inwardly pleased that I wouldn't have to retrace my steps through the maze again with Igor. "I'll be swift and discreet," I said.

  "I will instruct Harper to pick you up at the front door," Bram continued.

  "Harper?" I couldn't help but laugh.

  Bram didn't share my amusement as he held the door to his office open for me. Before I could take a step forward, I suddenly felt Bram right next to me, his arms around me. He leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek, dangerously close to my lips.

  "We shall be in touch," he said with a suggestive smile.

  I raised my brows, lacking the energy to bitch at him for stealing a kiss. Instead, I turned around to face No Regrets, only to find Knight sitting at the end of the bar, staring at me.

  Fifteen

  I must have stopped breathing for at least a few seconds; and in those seconds, I simply watched Knight glare at me and shake his head angrily, his jaw so tight it looked like it might snap right off his face. He glanced from me to Bram, who I guessed was still standing behind me, and then simply downed his drink, dropping a twenty on the bar before standing up and leaving.

  I didn't go after him because I knew better. There wasn't anything I could say—I mean, yes, I could have run after him and sworn it wasn't what I was sure he thought it was. But to what end? It wasn't like I could get back together with Knight, well, not anytime soon anyway. I still had to figure out everything with my father and Caressa, not to mention The Resistance. I could only hope that once the dust settled (if it ever did settle), Knight and I could work things out because the truth of the matter was that I was absolutely in love with him and hated every second of this game I had to play.

  But saving his life was worth playing it, I had to remind myself.

  After leaving Bram, I went home, but I couldn't sleep all night. I just tossed and turned as I imagined what Knight must be thinking. With me leaving Bram's office, him leaning down and kissing me and me not attempting to bitch slap him, it had to look like there was something between us. Throw in the fact that I wasn't currently working on any cases at the ANC which meant I really had no reason to visit Bram and I must have looked guilty as charged. And the icing on the cake? The Rolex my father had given me, which I'd failed to convince Knight had been my purchase. If anyone had the kind of money for such an extravagant gift, it was Bram. Yep, I could only imagine Knight thought there was a whole lot more going on between Bram and me than there was. And that made me sick to my stomach.

  I tried to push the thoughts from my mind in favor of sleeping. I even downed two Tylenol PMs around one a.m., but by the time eight a.m. rolled by, I was still wide awake and hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep all night. Finally abandoning it as a lost cause, I got up, fed Blue and started the coffee. I thought I should eat something, but my nerves were on full speed ahead and food would only disagree with my stomach. Instead, I started fretting over my plan to visit Caressa today—well, Hades willing, anyway. I'd already rehearsed the plan repeatedly through my mind, trying to imagine any and every obstacle that might possibly arise as well as a solution to them.

  By the time nine o'clock rolled by, I'd dressed in my flower delivery costume, curled my hair into a frizzy mess and painted my face full of makeup, even indulging myself with a beauty mark just below my right nostril. I definitely didn't look like me, which was exactly the point.

  Glancing down at my portal compass watch for the tenth time since getting up this morning, I made sure I remembered Quill's instructions on how to use it, and outlined each step in my head. After that little task, I looked at the vials of antidote that stood on my kitchen table, where I'd placed them the previous night with the express purpose of not forgetting them this morning. Next to the vials was a long piece of white ribbon and a pair of scissors, which would come in handy later on.

  Checking the clock, I realized it was nearly nine thirty and time for me to go. The flower shop opened at ten a.m. and was located in the city center so it would take me a good twenty minutes to get there. I'd already called in sick this morning to the ANC, even though I didn't expect Knight to care. He'd probably be glad not to have to see me, if he were even there today.

  Pushing thoughts of Knight from my mind, I grabbed my helmet and the keys to my bike, throwing the vials, ribbon, scissors and the letter to Caressa into my backpack. I supposed I could have taken the Mercedes, but the truth of the matter was that I wanted nothing to do with my father. Not when I was about to rat his ass out. Instead, I took a deep breath, remembered that in two days time, the Draoidheil was scheduled for delivery, and headed for the door.

  The drive to the florist took exactly twenty minutes, just according to plan. And because I was their first customer of the day, I was in and out in another thirty minutes, sans forty dollars, but with a large bouquet of Casablanca lilies and red roses. I crammed the arrangement in my backpack, making sure it fit snugly and only zipped it up on one sid
e, allowing the lilies and roses to poke out of the top. Then I started for the freeway that would take me out of Splendor toward Estuary.

  I was going after the most remote portal, one which was located off an old, single lane, fire road with nothing but cows and trees nearby. Once I hit the street, aptly titled FireHouse Road, I searched for the telltale sign of a white picket fence on one side, denoting a nearby farm, and an open lake on the other. I found it without issue and pulled to the side of the road, steering the Ducati behind a large tree beside the lake. After I felt confident I was alone, I looked down at my portal watch.

  The dial was spinning in circles, which meant it had picked up on the portal's energy. Now it was just a matter of dialing into the right location and then specifying the area in the Netherworld in which I wanted to arrive. I took a few steps toward the lake and noticed the dial starting to slow down, still making large loops around the face of the watch, but not nearly as quickly as it had before. I was on the right track. I continued forward, and the dial on my watch continued to slow. Once it stopped, so did I as I found myself facing the lake, the water’s edge only about two feet from mine.