J.T.’s scowl eased after a couple of seconds of catching up. “She’s a ward really. A young girl we found after following the Sultan to his lair in the Netherworld. Duke and Katie look after her. Why?”
Mentally marking off the names, Duke Taylor, an ex-Navy SEAL from his unit along with Katie Tibideaux, Duke’s girlfriend and local pharmacist, Dorran nodded. Dorran had replaced Duke as a communications specialist for their unit in the sand dunes when Duke’s hitch was up. A small world he mused. He shook his head and shrugged. “No reason other than I broke in the house without realizing it was occupied. That’s all.”
“Again, I wasn’t aware she was staying there. I’ll have to go by and explain.”
“No need. It’s just one of those things I do, right? Break in on people sleeping.” Anyway, I smoothed things over. Meagan even offered me coffee. How is she friends with a shadow walker?”
“Pilot?”
“Yeah.”
Pilot’s an old family friend. He’s Aubrie Sinclair Latimar’s shadow walker to be more precise. “Don’t go adding him to your list of enemies, all right?” The tone of the question brooked no resistance. “He’s one of the good guys.”
Dorran raised his hands in supplication. “Okay, I was just getting my facts straight. Don’t get your jockeys in a bunch. Geez.”
“To be sure.” J.T. picked up the plastic bag with the evidence inside. The statement effectively closed the subject for the time being. “Do you need help analyzing this?” He dangled the Ziploc bag between two fingers.
Dorran shook his head. “No, I got this. You probably need to rest as the sun is coming up.”
J.T. flicked a glance at the drapes automatically sliding shut over the plate-glass of the storefront windows. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, if Jessie stops by, send her on up.”
Grinning, Dorran shot a knowing look at J.T. “A little booty call, bro?”
Waving him off with a hand as he walked up the stairs, J.T. growled low. “Bit me, Irishman.”
***
A small-scale laboratory set up in the back room off J.T.’s office gave Dorran an under the radar lab to examine the evidence he had gathered that morning. Thinking back on how he came by this particular piece of DNA, Dorran had to scold himself for being sloppy. “You let a shadow walker, a geeky one at that, discover what you should have found on your own. Damn skills are slipping, Dorran. No cookies and milk for you, old man.”
Rolling up his sleeve, he went to work analyzing the contents of the bag. Given the information he already had in the Sultan’s file, Dorran hit pay dirt. The miniscule bit of saliva found on the cigarette butt belonged to the Sultan. Satisfied with the results, he bagged the evidence once more and filed his report with the intel they already had on the despicable piece of trash.
Hunger pains reminded him he hadn’t fed since yesterday. His blood sugar was low, so he turned for the kitchen and a snack. The doorbell rang before he could make good on the idea. Glancing at his watch, he wondered who was there so early. “Coming,” he called. Checking before opening to an unknown was second nature to the ex-SEAL and now a bounty hunter. “Hey, you. Come in.”
Jessie Coulter stood at the threshold of the front door to J.T.’s place and smiled that brilliant smile of hers. He wished for a moment to enjoy her effervescent nature and long legs. With a quick buss of each of her cheeks in greeting, he stepped back to allow her entrance. “How are you, Dorran?” Jessie slipped the coat off and dropped it on the same chair he’d laid his across.
“Fine. How are you?”
“Good, is J.T. back yet?”
“Yes, he’s upstairs waiting on you.”
Her color heightened with the implication. She glanced up the stairs and took a second to gain her composure. “Okay, first of all, do you have a moment?”
Dorran arched a brow. “Sure, sweetheart, anything for you.”
She brushed his shoulder in a quick rebuttal at his teasing and headed for the kitchen. “I have something I need to discuss with you.” The counter between them in the small, tidy kitchen seemed a perfect place to discuss anything between friends. The cozy warmth of the sun filtering through the high transom windows above the covered leaded windows on the south facing side of the building was a cheerful welcome to the shaded interior of a vampire’s abode.
“What’s up?” he asked in polite tones as he sidestepped a sun beam piercing the dim interior.
“I want to get married.” With her hands resting one over the other on the Formica, Jessie waited.
“Well, this is kind a sudden, but I think I can clear my schedule. What day did you want to jump the broom?”
Her laugh spilled out in an easy flow just like her outlook on everything in life. She was a fledgling vampire, a hybrid really, forged from magic and sealed in blood, J.T.’s blood and she wanted to get married. Happiness could be had in the world, Dorran mused. Since he too was a hybrid mix of vampire and werewolf, he understood some of what concerned her. “You want me to rent a tux or just wear whatever? Have you got a dress yet?”
“Stop it, silly. You Irish are so funny,” Jessie proclaimed pragmatically. “I want to marry J.T. You know that. I want your advice on how to handle the whole hybrid thing. Do you suppose kids will be a problem?”
Dorran’s brow drew together. “You’re asking me? I have no idea. I’ve never had any complaints. I’m crushed you are dropping me for another man. This is devastating.” He drew out his distress with a slow shake of his down cast head.
Jessie rolled her eyes dramatically. “Would you be serious for a minute, please.”
He heard the concern in her plea and settled. “We can do a couple of DNA tests if you like and see how the chromosomes line up. Will that help?”
She brought her hands together and grinned like a school girl. “Perfect. What do I need to do?”
“Well, taking a mouth swab is the easiest way to determine if you and he are compatible. I’ll ship it off to the lab in Shreveport for a baseline analysis, and I’d say within a few days, you’ll have your answer.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “I guess so.” Then she pursed her lovely lips.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s just that I didn’t want to worry J.T. He’s got so much on his plate with this investigation into the Sultan’s human trafficking that I didn’t want to add to his need to know. If you get my drift?”
“Yeah, I do. You don’t want J.T. to know about the possibility your DNAs aren’t compatible with baby-making. Right?”
“Exactly, I knew you’d understand. There’s got to be a way around bothering him. What can we do?”
“A toothbrush or hairbrush will do, I suppose. Get me one of those, and we’ll work up the test. Okay?’
“Done. Oh, thank you, Dorran. You’re the best.” She straightened her index finger and put it to her lips and then winked. “It’s our little secret, right?”
“Right.” He accepted her hug. Females, he mused as he watched her fairly skip to the stairs and her upstairs lover awaiting her arrival.
“Man, the whole world is screwy,” he mused aloud. “Now, where’s that blood?”
Dorran had time to consider the fact he would have to revisit the capture sight to retrieve his Harley. He mulled over how the dog catcher had managed to snare him, as he sipped the red energy drink and contemplated the world at large. His thoughts were broken by the doorbell ringing again. Checking the clock, he surmised Pilot was prompt.
“Come in.” He waited without opening the door to the light bright with the morning sunrise. His combination of vampire and werewolf allowed for some exposure to the sun, but overly cautious as he was, Dorran didn’t like to tempt fate – not without protection.
Pilot entered with a swift indifference to the closed door. “Hello, Dorran.
“Hello, yourself, Pilot. Let’s get this over with. I have things to do today.”
Pilot’s brow winged up at the sharp redirect. “In need of rest, vampire?”
<
br /> Dorran cut a chilled glance at Pilot. “How did you know I was a vampire?”
Pilot examined the chalky nails on his right hand. “Let’s just say, I have a few skills.”
“Yeah? Well, why bother with coming by at all. Why didn’t you just investigate your crystal ball or check your tarot cards or whatever the hell you use for expediting your wisdom to find out? I’m thirty years old, single, an ex-Navy SEAL last stationed with the guy who leases this joint from the girl of one of my other buds who is the best friend of our former lieutenant. I was bitten by a werewolf and given blood to survive by J.T. Leighton, a.k.a. the resident vampire.” The cords of his temper were fraying fast. “Anything else you want to know, shadow walker.” The contempt in his voice was heavy and intentional.
Pilot eyed him squarely. “Your temper is understood though I don’t see it as necessary. I dropped by, as we discussed, to learn of the results of your findings. Did the cigarette butt match the Sultan’s DNA?”
“It was. It’s a match. Anything else?”
“Why so testy vampire? I represent your former lieutenant in dealings with our mutual enemy. What has you out of sorts?” Folding his arms across his chest, Pilot waited.
The nerve in Dorran’s right eye took the opportunity to twitch. He was tired and restless and needed a few hours’ shut-eye. It had been a fucked-up night, and he had yet to catch any sleep. “Look, it’s been a long night, and I could really use some downtime. Do you mind if we continue this conversation later? I have to get some sleep.”
Pilot straightened, his posture becoming formal again. “Certainly. The Latimars return soon. Might we expect your presence at our next group counsel then? We have much to discuss.”
Pilot’s superior demeanor grated on his last nerve. Waiting a beat out of sheer spite, Dorran decided he wanted to know more about Shadow Company and their intel regarding the Sultan. Since he was new to the area, he needed more interaction to gain a better prospective of their intentions. Dealing with the tight-assed shadow walker gave him a pain in his backside. The irritation played out in an uncaring wave of his hand in the air. “Fine, I’ll be there.” Anything to get rid of the ghost with the attitude.
Without further words, Pilot disappeared the way he had come. Dorran turned for his lab and a small cot in the corner. J.T.’s mention of the council bounced around in his brain. When the Elders of the Netherworld wanted something, they grew restless. Well, they’d just have to wait for his undead ass to regenerate. He craved the downtime and looked forward to a chance to revisit his first encounter with Meagan.
Her features were embedded in his memory. She reminded him of a dark-haired fairy with a quick temper and sad eyes – his tinker bell – the brunette version. That wasn’t completely accurate as he recalled her banter over coffee. The lighthearted nature she presented felt forced. Time would tell. Then there were those long limbs and subtle movements which gave her grace and poise. Had he been looking for a woman, she would have ended the search. The fact she was a ward of Shadow Company ended any discussion about pursuing a relationship. She had been dealt several serious blows in her young life. Then there was the age difference. Too innocent, he mused. “Probably never been with a man,” he whispered into the darkened room. “Don’t need to experience love with a fucked-up hybrid as a first time.” Rolling toward the wall, Dorran punched the pillow and forced the subject closed. “Water under the bridge, old man. Bollocks on relationships.”
Chapter 7
The sun filtered through her window casting the bedroom in thin shadows as dust particles danced in half-time to some unheard beat. Meagan eyed her reflection in the mirror and wondered what she would find in the woods near the shelter. So many things raced through her mind since she had met Dorran O’Hare. She hoped Pilot had something to add regarding their mystery man. He intrigued her. Smiling to herself at the thought of his bicolored eyes flashing with temper warmed her insides. The feelings were new. She had little experience with interest in men. If she needed an infatuation, Dorran was a rough-around-the-edges character with a checkered past. As a SEAL, he had most certainly seen combat and probably killed men. Considering the way that settled in her gut, Meagan discovered she could relate on some level. War was war, she mused. Didn’t matter who the enemy was when your life was at stake.
Had she had a close call last evening with the stranger lurking near the house? Wondering if the figure had been the Sultan or Dorran himself, Meagan snatched her jacket off the peg at the back door and headed down the deck stairs to her truck. She decided she wished the lurker had been Dorran.
True to form, the engine sputtered again and again before finally turning over. Meagan would have to break down and have Gus, the local mechanic and Logan’s brother/warlock look at the heap before it broke down and left her stranded. She pointed the Ford down the long dirt drive to the main road. The shelter was not far, only about fifteen minutes away. She wished for a second cup of coffee and wondered if she had time to wheel through the pickup window at McDonald's. On second thought, Sue had emphasized how she needed her there at eight a.m. sharp. Certain Sue was trying to get out of washing down the runs, Meagan set her lips in a thin line as she thought of the less than stellar job performance Sue exhibited on any given day. One more reason, volunteers were needed regularly.
A cloud of dust appeared above the ratty wooden fence that surrounded the parking lot of the shelter. Someone was waiting in front when she parked at the end of the lot. A small woman with wiry gray hair got out of her Delta 88 and ambled toward the entrance. The dogs tuned up for a collective howl as Meagan met the woman at the door. “Can I help you?”
Turning, the woman examined Meagan carefully. “Do you work here?”
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?” Meagan had the office door unlocked, and the fan on in the corner as the elderly lady shuffled in behind her.
“I’ve come for my dog,” the woman said. “My granddaughter saw Silas’ picture on her phone. Some social site, I don’t know the name of it.” Her lips pursed as she tried to think of the name of the site. “Facepage or something like that. Anyway, I’ve come to spring him.”
“Okay, what type of dog is he?”
“He’s a bloodhound. Silas is the best bloodhound in these parts.” The woman lifted her chin in prideful declaration. “He can track a deer from here to Texas without losing his scent. Why he even tracked escapees from Angola Prison in his prime.” A smile creased her lips. A minute passed before the woman slowly shook her gray head. “I guess he got a wild hair and tried to relive some of his glory days. That’s when he came up missing. Been about three or four days ago. Then my granddaughter spied him on her phone. Said he was here.” Adjusting her glasses, the woman eyed Meagan carefully. “Well, is he here?”
Unable to conceal the smile from creeping past her guard, Meagan gathered a pen and paper and offered the woman to follow her. “Let’s go see. Follow me.” After several stops at other runs to adore the occupants, Mrs. Abernathy let out a cry of glee when they turned the corner and heard a howling, Silas greeted them.
“Oh, you dear boy. What have you done?” Mrs. Abernathy’s hands settled on her waist as she examined the hound hooting in joy at seeing her. “Don’t worry, I’m here to break you out of this joint.”
Meagan smiled to herself as she gathered a leash off the run’s gate. “Here we go.”
Mrs. Abernathy, small and frail squatted to greet Silas in a slobbering hug. The bloodhound yodeled so loud he had the other tenants chiming in with effort. “Come on, big guy, let’s go home. I have snacks in the car.”
The sight warmed Meagan’s heart. “He’s so glad to see you. I sure hope I can share a bond as close as yours’ someday.” So far, she had not found her forever pet. “I’ll get the exit papers started. You can join me at the office up front when you’re ready, Mrs. Abernathy. Congratulations.”
The elderly woman glanced up from her hold on the bloodhound and grinned like a girl. “Thank you, dear.
We’ll be along in a few minutes. Silas needs to catch up on his kisses.”
“Yes, he does,” she laughed as Silas slurped at Mrs. Abernathy’s face. “So glad you found him.” Back at the office, Meagan pulled the required papers to release the dog into the custody of his owner. A shadow fell over the corner of her eye. She blinked before looking up into the eyes of Pilot. “Shit.” Taking a step back, she reached for the chairback. “Holy heck, Pilot. Now, you’ve given me a heart attack.”
Pilot’s ghostly brows furrowed immediately. “Oh, no. Here, have a seat. Should I call a medic?” His long Victorian coat swept around his legs as he moved closer to assist her into the chair. “Are you in pain?”
The chuckle came unbidden. “No, I’m fine. The heart attack was a figure of speech. You scared me, that’s all.” Sitting helped. “Why are you here?”
Pilot composed himself again before speaking. “I dropped by on Dorran. He’s a vampire, you know. Wouldn’t come to the door for fear of the light coming in off the street. But there’s more. He’s also part werewolf like I told you before. It seems he was bitten by a wolf and left for dead. J.T. found him and shared his own blood to save his life. He’s an immortal hybrid and another ex-SEAL from Lieutenant Latimar’s unit.”
Meagan relaxed against the desk chair’s faux leather and considered. “He can shift?” Can he fly? Does he drink blood? Or does he like raw meat?”
Pilot blinked. “Yes, yes, yes and yes. All of those plus more.” He pulled up a straight back chair across from her. “It’s a little more complicated than a simple yes or no. Perhaps when Logan and Aubrie return, they can be of more help with details involving his supernatural nature. I’m sure they’ve had some experience with hybrids since Jessie became one last winter.”
Nodding, Meagan thought of the beating Jessie had endured at the hands of the Sultan. Practically dead when they found her, she recouped under the watchful eye of Logan and Aubrie. With Katie Tibideaux’s pharmaceutical assistance she’d come around quickly, too quickly to be simple human healing. That was when Shadow Company discovered she had drunk some of J.T.’s blood and coupled with her magic amulet, Jessie had evolved into a hybrid. “Another one. Fascinating,” she murmured.
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