How Nina Got Her Fang Back: Accidental Quickie (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 13)

by Dakota Cassidy

  She leapt up from her seat, her usually serene face tight with anger. “Damn it! It’s because you seem to think you can do whatever you want simply because you deem it so! So why would you care if a council of elders existed? No skin off your pert nose, right? Because no one tells Nina the Ass Beater what to do! But there are rules. There have always been rules. We’ve bent them, we’ve worked outside of them, but they exist. Greg is a powerful leader in your clan, but he’s not the sire. He’s not in charge. He can be overruled.

  “Now it’s time to really listen. Just this once. I’m begging you, my friend. There are lives at stake here. A baby. Your baby—my niece. January and Galen’s baby. Darnell…all of us. We can’t risk upsetting the applecart. This isn’t a time to throw your weight around. God in heaven, how many times can I explain that before you get it through your thick skull?” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes when Wanda finished ranting, surprising January.

  Wanda had reached her breaking point. It was evident as she slumped back in her chair. She was tired. Tired of watching Nina shatter before her, picking up the scattered pieces to glue them all back together, only to see them break again.

  The man named Archibald—elderly, spry, dressed in a butler’s uniform, complete with ascot and an utterly charming British accent—reached across the table and took Wanda’s hand, pressing the back of it to his lips. “For that I could ease this pressure you’re all under. Know that I would.”

  Nina instantly grabbed her friend’s free hand and squeezed it before letting go. No sarcasm, no snarky comebacks. Just compassion. “I’m sorry, okay? I get it. I’ll try and chill the fuck out. Don’t cry, Wanda. I hate when you fucking cry.”

  Carl came from behind Wanda, his tall body and oddly un-zombie-like features a surprise to January. She’d seen many things in her time on this earth, but never a zombie, especially not one as sweet and endearing as Carl.

  He wrapped his arms around Wanda’s neck and squeezed, thumping her on the shoulder with a hand that had duct tape keeping his thumb on. “S’okay,” he murmured, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth.

  According to Nina, he was just learning to speak, but his heart spoke volumes. He was a gentle lamb in a hurricane of discourse, and the sight of him, the sweet, loving sight of him, made January’s heart clench until her chest ached.

  Wanda squeezed him back, resting her head on his arm. “I’m sorry, Carl. I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me?”

  He nuzzled the top of Wanda’s head and nodded.

  Marty cleared her throat and sat up straight, smoothing the ends of the wide green-and-pink band holding her hair away from her face. “Okay. It’s time to get serious. We have what, just a few days now before council calls?”

  “How do you know the date they’ve set for the council summit?” January asked, surprised.

  Marty held up a letter—an official council letter.

  Nina dug something out of her back pocket and dropped it on the table. “Yep. They’re meeting on Monday. That’s a letter from those ancient motherfuckers, telling me I’d better show up or I’m meat.”

  Wanda and Darnell each reached for something, too. As Wanda dug into her purse and Darnell pulled something from his own back pocket, January’s dread heightened. Simultaneously, they plopped the same stationary on the table that Nina had.

  January swallowed hard. “So everyone’s been ordered to appear.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. She knew what those letters meant. They wanted to question them. More specifically, Artem wanted to question them. He wanted to poke and toy with them to prove to the council elders he was right, and these people were a detriment—but mostly, he wanted to shame them in front of an audience.

  Wanda nodded, her stare vacant. “Looks like it. But you know what? I’m not going to apologize for doing what we do here. I don’t give a damn what clans and councils and packs say. We help people. We help a lot of people, and in the process, we save them from going somewhere outside of the paranormal community for that help. I hope this stupid paranormal council’s prepared to hear that.”

  “You been to one of these summit meetings, Arch?” Nina asked.

  Arch blew out a breath, his sagging cheeks expanding outward. “I have. ’Tis serious business of the highest order. But ’tis also rare the blustery old bags of bones gather. I can only take that to mean this cretin, Artem, has stirred the pot quite vigorously to rouse them to this level of anxiety. I know his kind. Oh, indeed I do. Smiles and good cheer to your face, while they stick the knife between your shoulder blades!”

  “Fucking perfect,” Nina muttered.

  The throb in January’s temples increased tenfold. Goddess, this was never going to work. They had to come up with something on Artem before Monday—before he went in front of a bunch of panicked elders and showed them proof the new laws were too lax, and he was going to use Nina’s sessions as a case in point.

  A rap of knuckles on the door to OOPS had Darnell up and out of his seat, flexing his muscles. He dragged it open, the heavy weight of it scraping against the concrete floor.

  “You Galen?” he asked in that deep, whiskey-tinged drawl.

  “I am.”

  Darnell reached for him then, wrapping him in a big bear hug, clearly taking Galen by surprise. “Good to meet ya, man. C’mon in.” He slapped him on the back once more before leading him to where they all sat.

  In an instant, January was in his arms, pulling him close and inhaling the familiar, soothing scent of his subtle cologne. “Are you okay? What the hell happened today?”

  He looked down at her, his pale face grim against the backdrop of the basement offices of OOPS. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  January’s stomach rolled as her headache grew. She was exhausted from living in a state of constant fear. “Is it Calista? I just checked in with Farley and he gave me the thumbs-up.”

  “Who’s Farley?” Wanda asked, scooting over so Galen could sit with them.

  She smiled at the thought of her dearest, oldest Scottish friend. “My familiar. Most witches have them. They’re guides, confidants. He’s watching over Calista. Keeping her from everyone so we won’t be found out.” She’d have never made it through these last months without Farley. She trusted him with her life.

  “He really has her good and hidden, I hope?” Marty asked, a tinge of concern to her tone.

  The sting of familiar tears poked at the back of her eyelids. She was missing so much of Calista’s infancy with all this skulking about. “For now. But I can’t hide her forever. Or wait. I take that back. I could, but I don’t want to. What kind of life is that for her?”

  “And you fucking shouldn’t have to,” Nina retorted. “So fill your boy-toy here in on what level we’re currently at on the scale of doom so we can try and hash some shit out. We need to do something soon if we all have to appear before this council in five days. It’s not enough for us to just beg like dogs for their scraps. We have to fucking show them what a freak this Artem is, and we need hardcore shit. No-holds-barred shit.”

  Galen rolled up his shirtsleeves and dropped into the chair beside January, pulling her hand into his. “Appear before the council? All of you?” His surprise was clear amidst the weary glance he gave them.

  “Yep,” Nina confirmed. “All of us. So make like Einstein and think.”

  Galen ran his hand through his thick hair, shaking his head. “God, he’s such a bastard.”

  Wanda toyed with a sticky notepad in pink with a Bobbie-Sue header on it. “And he’s calling us all to task. Seeing as I don’t much cotton to being called to the mat, have any brilliant ideas since we last saw you?”

  Galen clenched his fist. “Nothing. I have no idea how you’d get any information on him. He knows all of us by sight now, so it’s not as though we could sneak into one of his quote-unquote inspirational meetings unnoticed—which is likely where he’d make any mention about this big coup he has planned. You know, so he
can cackle with all his equally twisted minions. And after today, he knows your scents, too.”

  “He has inspirational meetings?” Marty asked, sitting up straight, her eyes suddenly brighter.

  Galen made a face, his eyes narrowing. “He calls them ‘visionary’. His vision of what a purist vampire’s world looks like, I suppose. He spouts all sorts of tips to keep our world free of any other species but our own, under the guise of harmony and peace. I happened into one of these meetings purely by accident, and it sickened me. I was ushered out as quickly as I’d arrived because they’re only meant for Artem’s most trusted henchman. They’re a lot like the human world’s tent revivals. You know, rabid preacher, spewing Bible verses with a snake around his neck, that kind of thing. It’s extreme.”

  “Sounds like a GD Bobbie-Sue meeting, if you ask me. Lot’s of crazy slogans and all sorts of tactics while everyone cheers you on for shoving your mascara down someone else’s throat,” Nina said, her eyebrow raised.

  Marty rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Nina. “We don’t promote purity, hater. We promote beauty and health. And there are absolutely no snakes.”

  Nina cackled then frowned, setting her Twizzlers on the table on a napkin. “Who attends these fucking meetings and when are they?”

  Galen cocked his dark head. “He and his cohorts meet every Saturday night. They used to meet at a bar exclusively for paranormals called Landry’s—which was where I happened into their nuthouse of theories on human cleansing. But nowadays, since they’ve ramped up the crazy and gone all secretive, they meet at his house upstate. Rhinebeck, I think—it’s really secluded. Also, everyone he keeps close has drunk the Kool-Aid. They’re as insane as he is. He treats them to a bird’s-eye view of what the world will look like when vampires run it. He spews his hate with pretty words and catchy phrases—he even serves real blood. His bunch of sidekicks guzzle that juice and they back him one hundred.”

  Marty cupped her chin and leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “You suppose he writes some of his nutball ideas down on paper? Keeps them in a Word document, maybe?”

  “Do cult leaders write down their manifestos?” January asked, her misery sinking deeper into her gut.

  “Wait. He serves them real blood? Not synthetic? Do you have any idea how long it took me to curb my damn appetite for the real thing? Years. Fucking asshole. The real shit’s been outlawed in the community forever,” Nina spat.

  “Just one of the perks when you’re an Artem minion,” Galen seethed.

  “Serves them,” Nina murmured, her voice faraway. “Is this like some kind of catered deal? Waiters? Waitresses? Some kind of staff and shit?”

  “Yeah. It’s always pretty fancy,” Galen responded on a nod. “Chalices made of fourteen-carat gold, people waiting on you hand and foot with warm towels. That’s one of the things he preaches—subservience from everyone around him. He talks about this cleansing like it’s the equivalent of the Vikings’ Valhalla.”

  Nina looked down at her phone and began using her fingers to type as Galen told them about some of the parties he’d heard about via other clan members.

  “What’s going on in that messed up head of yours, ex-coffin dweller?” Marty asked, craning her neck to look at the face of Nina’s phone.

  Nina flicked her fingers in Marty’s face to ward her off. “I think I have an idea. Just gimme a few to get it together. Carry on until I do. I wanna hear more about these parties. Are there virgin sacrifices? Belly dancers?”

  Galen barked a laugh, the tension in his wide shoulders easing a bit. “No virgin sacrifices that I’m aware of. Just a lot of propaganda, supremacy and talk of a world virtually free of anything but vampires. Heil Vampire and all that jazz.”

  January shivered with a violent tremble. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is still going on. I can’t believe you’ve been forced to live like this for so long.”

  Galen’s face went dark, his hand tightening its grip on hers. “We have to talk about the way I’ve been living.”

  Instantly, she was on red alert. “Why do I think this has something to do with what you and Artem were arguing about this afternoon outside my office?”

  “Because it does, honey.”

  “What’s that fuck got up his sleeve now? Chains, whips? Waterboarding you?” Nina asked as her phone beeped an incoming text message.

  “No. It’s about as appealing, though,” Galen responded.

  Nina nudged him, a frown creasing her forehead. “Well, spit it the fuck out. Don’t keep me hanging.”

  “Artem told me today he’s found a mate for me.”

  Chapter 7

  January had to fight not to gasp, her eyes going wide in disbelief as she gripped the edge of the round table for support.

  “So not only can he ban you from going outside your species to find some nookie, he can mate you off, too?” Nina yelped, her fist clenching.

  Marty’s head bounced as she looked to her friend in surprise. “Of course he can, Nina. Are you forgetting the mating between you and Greg? He refused to marry Whatshername because he was all goo-goo eyes over you and as a result, he was doomed to die because he was defying his clan? Clans, packs, whatever, they have all sorts of crazy, archaic rules. To make matters worse, Greg had to mate on that one specific night or he’d turn to dust. Remember the madness?”

  “So you mated with your husband to save his immortality?” January asked, astounded. That hadn’t been in the Nina Files. A forced marriage? Or a marriage born of immediacy and pressure from her spouse, Greg? She didn’t get the impression Nina was at all unhappy in her marriage—or that it was an act she’d committed out of fear.

  Nina leaned back in her chair and put her booted feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. “Don’t get your stethoscope in a twist there, Doc. I wanted to mate with him. I was already half in the bag where my man Greg was concerned when we mated, anyway. No one forced me to do anything. Besides, do I look like the kind of chick who’d marry a dude because he was pressuring me? Please.”

  January sucked in air, as much of it as possible. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Artem came to tell you that he’s mating you off?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of.” His response was stiff, his eyes flaming with anger. “I knew about this for a while.”

  “You knew?” January squeaked in shock. “And you didn’t tell me! How could you not tell me?”

  Galen sighed, running a hand over his jaw as he grabbed her hand. “I didn’t want to make things worse, honey. I guess I hoped it would go away. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But there’s a motive here. I suspect it’s to see if he can draw you out—get a reaction out of you. Which is why it’s even more crucial for us to keep it together. At least publicly.”

  But January wasn’t hearing that. All she could hear was Galen had been matched with another woman.

  “Who is she?” January demanded, her eyes narrowing. “If it’s that damn gynecologist down the hall with the boobs the size of hot-air balloons and more hair than a yeti, I’ll kill him and her myself! She’s been chasing after you from the moment you moved into the offices and opened your practice!”

  “You’re a fucking doctor, too, Vampire?” Nina asked with a wink. “Nice gig, huh? Good money. Fancy car. Sucks about your kooky sire, but still, shit’s good, right?”

  Galen smiled politely, clearly uncomfortable with Nina’s brash assessments. “General practitioner.”

  “Shut up. You know…question? I got this damn ache in my lower back that won’t give the fuck up. Never had it before, but all this human shit reminds me I’m in my damned forties now. Any ideas on how I can ease the tension? The over-the-counter stuff sucks ripe ass, and—”

  “Excuse me!” January yelped, jumping up from the table, keeping her cool façade always a problem where Galen was concerned. “My husband just told me his clan leader says he has to mate with someone other than me, and you’re all sitting here like he just told you he was run
ning to the bodega to grab some milk! Can’t you see I’m in a crisis?”

  Nina wiped the corner of her eye where, in January’s rant, she’d spit. “Slow your roll, Head Shrinker. We’re not gonna let some pissy bitch with big balloons and foofy hair take your man.”

  “Honey, sit, please,” Galen encouraged, tugging her hand. “It’s not Dr. Howel.”

  “Then who is the bitch?” January roared, paying no mind to the shock on everyone’s faces that the easygoing Dr. Malone was losing her marbles.

  Galen stroked her arm to soothe her and pulled her back down to her chair. “Honey. Please. Sit next to me. Let me explain.”

  “I’ll get some water,” Wanda offered, rising from the chair.

  “I’ll go with,” Darnell said, following her to the small kitchen they’d set up with a fridge and hotplate.

  Galen cupped her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “January, listen to me. He hasn’t named my mate—not yet. He said he wanted to wait until after the summit. It’s not happening tomorrow.”

  “And did you tell him to piss the hell off?”

  Nina cackled again. “Damn, Doc. Didn’t know you had this in ya. You’re always so cool and together. All that hushed-whisper talk and controlled-environment thing is just a cover for a seriously sassy bitch. Maybe I should be in charge of breathing techniques in our sessions from here on out, huh?”

  January’s entire body trembled with rage. God, she hated Artem Casteel. Prayed every night he’d catch on fire, forget to put his sunscreen on, die a heinous, painful death at dawn so she could dance in his ashes.

  “You saw the conversation we were having, didn’t you, honey? It was enough to bring you from your office and out into the hall. Of course I told him to piss off, January. For all the good it does me. Technically, he can mate me to another. It’s his right. But I told him anyway. Which is why we have to think of something before the summit.”