Animal Attraction

by Tracy St. John

  Filled with the sustenance of bottled blood, dancing werepanther, and cool car, I tripped my way from the downtown district’s parking lot to the King George Hotel.

  There was no sign of the King George above ground. Way back in the 1930’s, most of Fulton Falls burned in a huge fire. With so much devastation, the residents of the town opted to bury the old and build a new Fulton Falls on top of it. The first floor of the King George ... all that materially remained of that once regal playground for the rich and famous ... laid beneath a big brick building with the original sign that identified it as the T. I. Griss Department Store. Griss went out of business in the ‘80s. The building now housed an antique mall.

  Access to the underground was found in the rear of Griss, as locals still referred to it. Tristan owned the building, and Gerald and I both had keys. We let ourselves into a small, empty room. Another door opened to a flight of concrete stairs lit by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. I knew a security camera trained on us as we descended. Though the King George is buried, everyone knew it was far from dead. They also knew it was a hive of activity for the paras, who had far too many enemies among the norms to not have safety measures in place.

  At the bottom of the stairs we came to yet another door. This one opened to a place of forgotten grandeur, of a time when mankind’s stupidity and ills were kept hidden under a pretty veneer of fashion and luxury.

  We were in the restored office portion of the hotel, not even in the grand lobby or converted ballroom. Yet there was no mistaking the craftsmanship of the moldings, the fineness of the wallpaper, or the richness of the carpeting. Tristan had made restoring the King George’s remaining floor as much a personal project as the Cougar was for Gerald. There were subtle differences between the past and present versions of the hotel, but they could only be detected by someone who saw both the world of the living and the realm of the dead.

  I was such a person at night with Patricia’s eyes and my ghostly senses working at once. Some of the artwork hanging on the walls was different because reproductions of the originals were not always to be had. Plus the offices and conference rooms we passed the open doors of could hardly be expected to boast the same furnishings. It was close enough however that I didn’t get a sense of dizziness that could hit me in the ‘thin’ places where the netherworld encroached on modern reality.

  I could even hear the spirited (ha-ha) strains of a Dixieland band playing in some part of the hotel. That’s the music of the hotel, inaudible to the living’s ears.

  Gerald and I went our separate ways when we reached Para Central. I had dubbed the former ballroom turned office space with the name when I first came here as a ghost. Somehow it had stuck, and everyone called it Para Central now. Trendsetter, that’s me.

  Gerald went in with a little wave, off to report to his boss Tristan. I decided to play scaredy girl for the moment and sought out Dan first. He had some ‘splaining to do about sending Levi my way at what he knew would be an inopportune time. Plus I’d feel better with him at my side when I confronted our fearless leader. Tristan had his own ‘splaining due about why he avoided Levi when he had a shifter disappearance problem.

  I stalked down the hall to the hotel’s lobby. Now we’re talking splendor.

  The first time I saw the King George, this part of it was still a burnt-out hulk. It had been returned to its glory days, a shining jewel that had once competed with the most splendid hotels that ever existed. Ornate burgundy and gold wallpaper covered the walls. The tiled floors were arranged in stunning art deco patterns. The chairs and lounges, either restored antiques or cunningly crafted copies of the originals, beckoned visitors to lounge. Used by now to seeing ghosts and the living occupying the same space, I was amused to find the seating often doubly occupied. In most cases, the overlapping parties were unaware of each other. I wondered how the haughty Victorian era matron warming herself by the huge crackling fireplace in a wing-backed chair would have felt if she’d known a small gargoyle sat right against her crotch. He was as clueless of her presence as he preened batlike wings.

  An intricate crystal chandelier three times my size hung over this amazing room. Even more impressive was the white marble staircase that lifted from the floor. In this day and time, it ended at the paneled ceiling. In its afterlife – for special buildings and places often had an immortal existence of their own – the stairs went on to the sumptuous rooms that had existed before the long-ago fire.

  For all the grandeur of yesteryear, there was an even more impressive sight to be seen. He stood at the front desk talking to its longtime steward, Charles.

  Dan Saling was a masterpiece of masculinity. Or he had been when he died in the 1980s. His ghost reflected what he’d been back then ... chiseled perfection, clean-cut all-American male. His dark hair swept back from his rugged Marlboro Man face. The only soft things about Dan were his milk chocolate brown eyes. Oh, he is yummy-licious.

  I was still peeved about him sending Levi out after me, but I couldn’t hold back a smile to see him. It took real effort to put my adoration away as I moved towards him and Charles. As I did so, many of the vampires aware of my presence angled away as I passed. That helped dampen my mood. Conversations halted to be replaced by careful whispers.

  Nope, I am not the popular girl these days.

  Fortunately Charles didn’t take my residence in Patricia personally. He was a ghost, so I didn’t freak him out. His teeth flashed beneath his handlebar mustache in a smile that eased some of my hurt. He even gave me a courtly bow. Though many decades have passed since Charles died evacuating patrons and staff from the burning King George, he had yet to lose a single bit of his era’s manners.

  I returned his welcoming smile, watt for watt. “Good evening, Charles.”

  “A most wonderful evening to you, Miss Brandilynn. How was flying practice?”

  There was none of the teasing in Charles’ tone that I would get from anyone else. He asked with sincere hope of good news.

  My smile turned wry with defeat. “The crashing part was quite successful, thanks.”

  He tsked in sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. It will get better though. I’m sure of it.”

  I sighed. “Hope springs eternal.” I turned to the man who made even a vampire’s heart want to beat. Despite my appreciation of his square-jawed good looks, I lost the smile. “Dan, may I have a word with you?”

  My tone came out precise and as honed as a sharpened knife. Dan grimaced. He snapped to attention before Charles and gave him a crisp salute. “If I don’t return, speak well of me.”

  The unflappable front desk clerk chuckled as we walked away. Wanting to maintain my stern demeanor, I kept my gaze pointed forward as we moved down the hall. Dan was smart enough to keep his mouth shut until we entered the office that had Patricia’s name on the door.

  Because Patricia wasn’t known for her warmth outside her inner circle, I’d inherited her business space that showed few hints of personality. Since not everyone was aware she no longer walked among us in spirit, I’d done nothing to change that. The opulent but sturdy desk held a computer, landline phone, calendar, and little else. The chairs were comfortable but still obviously office chairs. The cabinet held several cases of BP9, a stock replenished quite often because I am determined to feed on the living as little as possible.

  With that in mind, I glared at Dan as I took the seat behind the desk. He had the grace to look uneasy, something self-assured Mr. Saling didn’t do too often.

  “I take it you didn’t appreciate Levi’s presence?”

  I noted a hint of apology in his tone. I thought I also heard a trace of smugness. He was sorry, but he wasn’t.

  I decided to make him head in the regret direction. “Did you think it would be? Especially considering I’d just taken my measure of blood and other bodily substances from my babysitter.”

  Kapow. Dan made a face, one that creased the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth deeper than usual. His broad forehea
d furrowed. He’d been creeping up on forty when he’d died, and he had one of those faces that only gets better with age. Those creases added character in all the right ways.

  Other than the eye candy, I did not enjoy getting my digs in after all. Our relationship had never been an easy one. Until I’d gotten myself trapped in Patricia, we’d been an unhappy threesome with Tristan. Dan and Tristan had been friends until I showed up. The men fell in love with me, and I was ridiculous enough to fall in love with both of them. We knew it couldn’t continue. The jealousy came close to tearing us all apart.

  I’d finally made my decision between the two men. Before I could announce the unlucky winner of the Brandilynn sweepstakes, fate came in and took the choice from me. Tristan couldn’t handle a relationship with me stuck in his sister’s body for obvious reasons. Even during the day, when my ghost left the physical behind and I was all me again, he couldn’t bear to look at me.

  I wanted to be true blue to Dan. I really did. I loved the man. But as I’d demonstrated earlier with Gerald, staying faithful in the form of a feeding vampire was impossible. Blood and sex went together, inseparable for even the oldest of the fanged population. Dan didn’t have to share me with Tristan anymore ... but he still had to share me. I hated that because it hurt him. He said it was okay while I made the adjustment, but I knew it wasn’t. Not for him or for me.

  As I tried to form an apology for my curt words, Dan said, “If it will make you feel any better, you don’t look ready to chew a neck right now. You’re getting excellent control over your glamour.”

  I caught the condescension. My plan to make nice evaporated in a wash of hurt. I snapped, “Eyes not glowing, fangs not showing. I guess that’s something. Give me a gold star.” I scowled. “You knew what Levi would probably walk in on. Why did you do that?”

  He shrugged. “I thought maybe if Wolf Boy was present, you’d be able to control yourself better. Behave with an audience, that kind of thing.”

  I gave him my best cold Patricia look. I had always envied her ability to appear above petty human stuff ... but then, she hadn’t been human for a long time. I remained human, even while dead and playing undead. I was still petty, especially when others acted that way. “I do the best I can under the circumstances. Shaming me isn’t helping.”

  Dan once more showed the good person he really was. Guilt clouded his face, plain to see. His broad shoulders slumped. He capitulated in an instant. “You’re right. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It was a stupid move for me to make and unfair to you.”

  We looked at each other, two people in love. Why then did we act sometimes like we were bent on tearing each other’s hearts out? Because our situation teetered on hopelessness ... and who better to take the grief out on than the one closest to you?

  I was tired of being mad. I wanted to love Dan without bounds. I wanted the carefree relationship I thought we both deserved. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see it happening, not until I got this undead body’s urges under control.

  I did the paltry bit I was capable of. “Forgiven, as always. I love you.”

  Dan smiled, his expression relieved. He came to me behind the desk. His embrace and kiss on my forehead were the barest whisper of a touch against my skin. “I love you too. I look forward to making it up to you properly.”

  Naughty man. He knew all the ways to smooth things over, all right. My cold insides found a little curl of warmth at the things Dan might do to put us right again. I checked the clock and uttered a little groan that made him chuckle knowingly. Dawn wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. I’d have to find patience.

  Since being in corporeal form kept me from banging his ghostly brains out, I turned to business. With a grudging tone I asked, “What’s your take on these missing shifters?”

  Dan went back around the desk and settled in a chair. His brown eyes moved from mischief to serious business. “A couple of Tristan’s employees are on Levi’s list of the missing. I didn’t make much of it until he told me there were several more who match up to the same profile. I made a quick check over at the Sheriff’s Office, and they are working the case.”

  “I haven’t heard anything on the news.”

  “They’re shifters. Mainstream media could care less about them.”

  I sighed. I should have figured on that. “Who were ours?”

  “A gator named Scott and a bear named Tyra.”

  I thought but couldn’t come up with faces. I thought I recalled a vampire named Scott, but not a weregator. “I don’t remember them.”

  Dan waved his hand. “You wouldn’t. Tyra is part of Tristan’s accounting team and Scott works for the real estate arm of his investments.”

  “Not part of our core group.” That didn’t mean they weren’t worth worrying about. Why wasn’t Tristan having us beat the bushes to find them? Was the election for state senate taking up that much of his time?

  Dan filled me in on the particulars. “They each left home on separate nights and never came back. Tyra was divorced with kids, though her ex won custody because she was a shifter. She had visitation rights however. Scott’s wife didn’t leave him when he survived his bout of Zoo Flu. They have a two-year-old.”

  “Family,” I mused. “Good jobs. Not homeless like so many others. Anything else in common?”

  “Tyra’s accounting is being called into question. The head of that department launched an investigation to see if embezzling was happening. Scott’s name came up with some botched property inspections related to the company he worked with before joining Tristan’s team. It could have gotten him into trouble.”

  “Are those supposed activities related to each other in any way?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” Dan sighed. “I guess we should bite the bullet and talk to Tristan. He’s got too many shifters in his employ to not take an interest in these disappearances.”

  “He can’t be too worried if he wouldn’t talk to Levi,” I pointed out.

  “He’s probably ignoring Agent Ward for personal reasons,” Dan said gently.

  I made a face and glanced at my cabinet full of BP9. Guilt made me angry and anger had to be drowned in blood or bad things might happen.

  I didn’t like to be reminded that I got up close and personal with Levi once. He’d been undercover and I’d been in control of the body of his so-called girlfriend. Had we not done the nasty in front of some horrific people, he might have been killed.

  At the time, my relationship with Dan and Tristan had been ... well, complicated. Tristan had scores of blood groupies. As I said before, blood and sex go together. He was not exclusive with me. Dan shared me with Tristan, albeit unhappily. However, Levi had been one more man too many for us all. We sorted ourselves out in the end, but it had led to a lot of hurt feelings.

  Was Tristan still riled about that, even with our relationship firmly in the past? It would make talking to him about this new problem even harder.

  I got up and went to the cabinet for a pick-me-up. “I don’t look forward to this conversation.”

  Dan gave me a pat on the back that I couldn’t feel at all. His look was all sympathy for me. “I don’t suppose you would. There is nothing like being in love with someone to make a man behave like an asshole – sorry, I mean a jerk – when that love goes down the tubes.”

  I didn’t react to the cussing, though usually I took offense to it. I was too busy trying to shore up my defenses before approaching Tristan and the people who would try to keep me from him. Confronting him would take every ounce of equilibrium I possessed.

  Dealing with the other man I still loved tended to make me behave like an butthole too.

  * * * *

  I walked into Para Central with a purpose, striding through the grand doorway into what had once been an elegant ballroom.

  I’d changed my outfit, putting on clothes like a knight putting on armor. The gray pants and jacket were Chanel, cut with precision and grace and fitted perfectly to Patricia’s slim figure. I’d like to claim the cl
othes were all my idea, but Patricia had possessed exquisite taste in clothing. It had not hurt my feelings to inherit the contents of her closet.

  The rosy pink blouse with lace was me, however, as were the brand new cherry red Louboutin heels that click-clicked down the parquet wood flooring between rows of office desks where Tristan’s staff worked. My personal tastes ran a little more showy than my predecessor’s. I tried to balance the two because many didn’t know who ran this body now. We wanted to keep certain people in the dark.

  Still, I saw nothing wrong with a little splash and flash, if done right. With her cool and classic Katherine Hepburn looks ... done with pageboy-cut black hair and vampire pale skin ... Patricia could carry it. I didn’t like many aspects of my situation, but I enjoyed styling someone so far from my own looks.

  As I passed the many desks with their inhabitants working away, I noted how Tristan’s employees snuck peeks at me. Para Central looked like any office hell with three rows of desks marching its length, except for the fact that it was in a Swinging Twenties era hotel ballroom. A twin of the lobby’s chandelier hung overhead. At the end of the room stood a bandstand where one might have seen Glenn Miller, had the King George still existed above ground during his time.

  I kept my nose pointed in the direction of the bandstand stage, where two huge executive desks perched. Behind those were a couple of whiteboards with notes scribbled in various handwriting ... a few were notes on county commission dealings, but most were battle plans for the election.

  I faltered a little as I gazed at the big desk on the left. That had once been Patricia’s desk, where she had coordinated so much of her brother’s dealings and ordered his busy life. Since I was not the most welcome creature among the vampires here, I never used it. I had the office with the late Ms. Keith’s name on the door.

  Manning the desk that still sat there like an accusation was Patricia’s girlfriend Taylor Allen. I hadn’t seen Taylor in weeks, except by accident. We had done our level best to avoid each other. She looked the same as ever, except perhaps for an aura of sadness that pinched her no-nonsense face. Her short dark hair was as neat as ever, her typical polo shirt and slacks ironed and clean. She’d been taking care of herself at least. When I’d asked about her, the words used were ‘coping well’.