Animal Attraction

by Tracy St. John

  Taylor sat in the place Patricia once occupied, on Tristan’s right. She avoided looking at me. I can’t say I blamed her.

  Once Dan was in place, he gave us all a smile and a nod. “Hello, everyone. I’m ready.”

  That set off an enthusiastic chorus of “Hi Dan”. Most paras appreciated Dan Saling because he did a lot behind the scenes on their behalf. They tried to show it when they got the chance.

  Tristan stood and smiled at everyone. His eyes lingered on me for a moment. I saw a flash of sadness, but for once, no sign of bitterness. Maybe there was a God for such a miracle to occur.

  He opened the meeting with, “Thanks for getting together on such short notice. I know we’ve all been busy with our various responsibilities, so I’ll try not to take up a lot of your time.”

  I came close to rolling my eyes but managed not to. My only responsibility these days was to avoid chewing on people who upset me. And learning to fly. I hoped Tristan wouldn’t ask for a status update on that.

  He continued. “The election is only a few days away. With Cliff Tattingail leaving the race and attempting to foist himself on the county commission, I’ll be busier than ever. The election is going to be a tight one, and there is every chance I won’t win. Emory Cooper is an able candidate and Tattingail’s supporters will throw their support to him.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement. The election would be close.

  “We still have an excellent chance of winning this thing. I want everything in place should our slim advantage hold and I do end up going to Atlanta. To that end, I want to form a council of sorts to keep my presence felt here in Fulton Falls. With the exception of Taylor, who will be going with me as my assistant, you will all make up that council.”

  Surprised murmurs rose from the assembled. I exchanged a shocked look with Dan. Tristan wanted me on his panel? I thought I’d be the last person he’d want anything to do with, even at a distance of over 300 miles.

  “Augustus will also be a part of this panel, when and if he comes back.”

  Tristan frowned a little as he said that, and he wasn’t the only one. I caught a few involuntary glances thrown my way. Me blundering into Patricia’s body was little more than bad luck on my part. However Augustus had known what was coming and never warned us.

  Augustus was an oracle, able to see future possibilities given current situations. He’d known Patricia would be attacked by the lamia. He knew I would either save her or I would panic and look for help instead. The second option, the one I ended up doing, allowed the lamia to devour Patricia’s spirit. Realizing my mistake, I returned to find Patricia’s body empty. My ghost got sucked in. Nature abhors a vacuum, you know.

  If Patricia had survived, a lot of other people would have died. Despite caring a great deal for her, Augustus had opted to remain quiet and not warn anyone of what was about to happen. He let nature take its due course. I had panicked, Patricia was taken, and I am now the not-so-proud operator of her body.

  Other vampires avoided me, though not so much for the mistake that cost us Patricia. I thought everyone had forgiven that. What I represented freaked them out. If one vampire’s soul could be erased and replaced, why not theirs?

  I was a symbol of fear, but many supernatural beings in Fulton Falls outright despised Augustus. There were those who said a hundred others were worth one Patricia. We should have been given the opportunity to save her, even at the expense of all those lives.

  My musings were interrupted by Dan asking “What exactly is this council supposed to do?”

  Tristan had apparently been doing as much thinking as I, because he started at the question. He was smooth and controlled again in an instant. He smiled at Dan.

  “Even while I’m in Atlanta, my focus will still be on Fulton Falls and Ford County. My clutch is here. The paras who have supported me are here. I cannot abandon them ... or you.” He glanced at me and I swore I saw regret. No, it had to be my imagination. Vampires are not made for regret.

  Tristan nodded to us all. “I need you, my dearest friends and most trusted confidants, to take care of the people of Fulton Falls ... your fellow paras in particular. I need you to take care of our home to the best of your abilities in my absence. We’ve come far in thirty years. We all know it doesn’t take much to unravel our good work.”

  I nodded agreement with the rest. For every step para rights had taken forward, we had to fight to keep from being shoved two steps back.

  Tristan continued. “There are still details I need to work out, but I see no reason to delay putting you to work as my home council. You will have a fund to carry out business, and my staff here is at your disposal. You will for the most part decide what needs to get done and assign priorities. However I am directing your first order of business, which will be to find out what has happened to those eight shifters who have gone missing.”

  Well, that was something. Though Tristan himself wouldn’t oversee the investigation, we’d have the money and manpower to get it going. Those of us in the conference room had been the ones to run such things in the past anyway. We knew what we were doing.

  As if to underscore my opinion, Tristan added, “I could tell you how to start, but I think it’s best if you proceed under your own direction. Since I may not be here to shepherd the matter to its conclusion, I’m going to leave it up to you.”

  As usual, Dan took up the reins. “All right. I know with the change in the election there is plenty already on your agendas, but would it be possible for us all to meet back here tomorrow night? Say at six?”

  Schedules were consulted, affirmations followed. I saw relief on many faces. I realized then that everyone had wondered what would happen if Tristan won the election and left us. It must have weighed heavily on their minds. As much as people like Cliff Tattingail might have celebrated us de-camping and moving to Atlanta en masse, that had never been an option. Most people had lives ... or afterlives ... here in our hometown of Fulton Falls.

  I could tell Tristan felt pleased to give everyone a purpose in the post-Keith era. “Excellent. We’ll talk more as the election develops to iron out any confusion or problems. Thank you again for coming and thank you for serving in this manner.”

  With that dismissal, we all rose with the exception of Jason who had to wait for Dan to release his body. Once he blinked free of his trance and we caught him up on current events, he was as excited to have a purpose as the rest. Tristan paid him a substantial retainer to channel Dan and the occasional other ghost when needed.

  I was delighted to have something to look forward to beyond coping with what had become of me. I still felt a pang to consider how different things would be if Tristan left. Though things had gone so badly and we barely spoke, there was yet some comfort in having him near. I’d miss that pathetic little bit.

  I started to follow Dan out, thinking he would probably want to brainstorm options for our investigation. I could hardly wait to get going. I felt the excitement of contributing something worthwhile once again.

  Tristan’s voice rose behind me, stopping me in my tracks. “Brandilynn, may I have a word in private?”

  Boy, the night was chock full of surprises. I gave Dan’s concerned look a slight shrug. He hesitated a moment, but I jerked my chin to tell him to go on. I had no idea what Tristan wanted, but that he’d asked for privacy meant he specifically wanted Dan absent.

  Looking worried, Dan left the room. I thought maybe he would hover outside the door, concerned that Tristan would set me off. Gerald would probably be there too, a case of Blood Potion in each paw.

  I turned to Tristan as the door closed between me and the rest of the departed committee. He looked at me, his black eyes unfathomable, his face unreadable. I waited for him to speak, my stomach churning with sudden fear.

  Maybe I looked as scared as I felt. Or maybe, just maybe, Tristan’s regret was an honest thing. At any rate, his set expression softened to one that I don’t think I’ve ever seen on a vampire’s face, especia
lly one as strong as Tristan. That compelling but cold visage took on the mood of a man who felt lost. Pained yearning creased the area between his eyebrows. He wore the look of a man who had held all he’d ever wanted for a brief moment only to see it shatter in his hands.

  His usually smooth and unruffled voice sounded husky. “I’ve not handled us well.”

  For a wonder I didn’t sound hurt, just accepting. “No. But I suppose no one should expect you to. Patricia meant more to you than anyone else, didn’t she? Even me.”

  I saw an apology in the slight smile that twitched the corners of his lips. “I was her older brother. I took care of her because she was so sickly in life. Then I became a father of sorts since I brought her over. As a vampire, her body was at last as strong as her will and her vision for what we could accomplish.” He laughed a little, a tight sound. “My sister, my child, my equal. How can that be replaced?”

  “It can’t.” That was the truth of it. I was a poor copy, a meaningless substitute. I knew it and accepted it. With all that had been between them, no love Tristan had ever entertained for me could have held a candle to Patricia.

  Can a broken heart keep shattering? It must be possible, because I know I heard Tristan’s doing so all over again.

  He said, “There is such a hole in my life now. The lamia didn’t take only Patricia’s soul – it took half of mine as well.”

  I would have traded places with his sister in an instant to erase that devastated look from his pale face. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I could have saved her if I hadn’t panicked.”

  He shook his head. “And then so many more would have died. No, Patricia would have been fine sacrificing herself so that others could be saved. She was that kind of person.”

  As if he’d talked himself out of mourning, Tristan straightened. He pulled his shoulders back manfully, as a gentleman from his time would have been taught to do. My brief access to his grief ended. Now I got to see him pull himself up by his own bootstraps. It was so very Tristan of him.

  His voice steady again, Tristan spoke with force. “You have nothing to apologize for, Brandilynn. Not one damned thing. You’ve handled what happened with grace while I’ve left you out in the cold. It stops now.”

  Yeah right. He’d made that false start once before. I hated to be cynical, especially given who Tristan had lost, but I wasn’t setting myself up to be hurt all over again. “You can’t pretend the sight of me in this body doesn’t tear your heart apart.”

  He was adamant. “If I go to Atlanta, that will solve us trying to get around the awkwardness once and for all. But whether I win the election or not, I have no excuse for leaving you to figure out your new existence with only a shifter to help you.”

  “Gerald has done terrific given he’s not a vampire.” I insisted on giving credit where it was due.

  “I’m sure he has, but it’s not his problem to deal with.”

  Great. I was still a problem.

  Tristan knew what the look on my face meant. Even in Patricia’s body, he read me like a book. He snickered a little. “No, you yourself are not a problem. Getting you squared away as a new vampire is.”

  I wanted to protest that I was not a vampire, but he was on a roll. I feared interrupting him now that he spoke to me.

  Tristan wore his ‘lord and master’ look, the one that brooked no argument. “I will talk to the clutch. They are not to ostracize you because you make them uncomfortable. If you need help, they will step forward without hesitation.”

  I crooked a brow at him, though a smile teased my lips. It was good to see the old Tristan again. “That doesn’t mean they’ll accept me.”

  He returned the smile. “I can’t make them do that, sweetheart. But I can insist they not treat you as a pariah. This happened through no fault of your own, a one in a million fluke. They’ll accept that, or they can get the hell out of my clutch.”

  It was almost like the old days. I restrained myself from straightening his collar and brushing back his hair. I settled for teasing him as I used to. “Not very diplomatic of you, future senator.”

  Tristan winked at me. “I know when to throw my weight around and with who. My clutch knows I’m in charge. Enough of that, though. While we’re talking, I have a request to make.”

  I folded my arms over my chest and gave him a suspicious look. “Oh, so this is the real reason you’re making nice.”

  That made him look sad again, and I regretted my words. His voice tender, Tristan said, “I hope you don’t believe that. You’re free to refuse me.”

  I jabbed his ribs to let him know I’d only been joking. “Since when?”

  We laughed weakly over that as I reminded myself to tread more carefully. We were building a new foundation to deal with one another, and it was shaky as heck. It wouldn’t take much for it to crumble beneath our feet.

  Tristan said, “I need you to join me at the county commission meeting tomorrow night at eight.”

  “As Patricia.”

  Tristan nodded. The rumors must have been flying since his sister hadn’t attended the last two commission meetings. As far as I knew, no explanation had been given. The less the norms knew about para affairs, the better.

  I wasn’t a politician and I wasn’t Patricia. She’d been at most meetings in the past simply to keep an eye on things and report her observations to Tristan. I had a pretty good idea of how little I would contribute to the actual meeting. “I know I will be keeping my mouth shut, but do I get to glare at the other commissioners?”

  Tristan’s grin seemed wholehearted. “That would be in keeping with how Patricia behaved. Few words and a bald stare have shut many a mouth in the past.”

  I could handle that. “Sounds like fun. I’m in.”

  I went still as Tristan stepped close to me, close enough to kiss. With him standing so near, it was all too easy to remember the love we had once shared. In that moment, I wanted to turn back the clock so bad it hurt. It took monumental effort to control the pain, to keep it from turning into anger. That would have taken away the glamour that made me almost human in appearance.

  Tristan dropped a chaste brotherly kiss on my forehead. It was more than what he’d offered these last few weeks, but it was so much less than what we’d had before.

  “Thank you, Brandilynn,” he murmured. “Someday maybe I can find a way to make it all up to you.”

  He turned and left with an abruptness that told me he felt way more than he was comfortable with too. There was no sign of Dan or Gerald outside the door.

  I stood alone in the conference room. I took my time gathering myself, talking myself into the belief that everything didn’t hurt all over again. Yes, an already shattered heart can keep breaking.

  When I thought my glamour was in no danger of disappearing, I headed for my office and its cabinet full of BP9. I thought a case might be enough to settle my nerves.

  I got through the rest of the night by avoiding everyone else. Dan sent word that he was checking on a few things. Gerald showed his face after I had my private word with Tristan. At my assurance everything was okay, he left me to my own devices.

  It occurred to me that I must not be doing so bad these days if I’m not requiring a babysitter every second. That should have cheered me up. Instead it got me thinking I was learning to be a good little vampire. Eek.

  I made myself scarce by hiding out in my office and shopping online. Like so many others, I’m paid by Tristan as a member of his staff. I guess I make what he used to pay Patricia, because my bank account is the stuff gals with a love for designer clothes dream of.

  Two pairs of Jimmy Choos, a Versace dress, and five (!) new Roberto Cavalli pieces later, it was finally time for Gerald to drive me out to Patricia’s casket. I was quiet as he navigated from downtown to Fulton Falls Cemetery. It was a really big graveyard that’s been in use almost as long as the town has existed. Most of the plots are kept neat. The stones range from small and simple to grand pieces.

  I had two b
erths. One was my own, where my remains lay beneath a heart-shaped stone paid for by Tristan. My own family refused to have anything to do with seeing to my eternal rest (ha-ha, some rest). Tristan had stepped in with Patricia’s help to make sure I had a decent service and burial.

  The other grave was Patricia’s, and it was unmarked. Vampires kept their daytime places secret since too many norms liked to expose them to the sun, chop off their heads, etcetera. Only Dan, Gerald, and Tristan knew where I left this body when the night ended.

  I’ve often wondered what would happen if anyone found Patricia’s casket and exposed her body to the sun. Vampires who are sent to their final deaths never return as ghosts. My case was weird in that no spirit had ever inhabited a vampire body belonging to someone else. If Patricia was staked, beheaded, and burned, would I disappear like other vampires? Or would I go back to being a full time ghost as I was before? It was a mystery, one I wasn’t brave enough to solve. I hated being a bloodsucker, but the alternative was too scary to contemplate.

  Gerald dropped me off with the morning newspaper and a bottle of BP9. I sat on a nice little cement bench a few feet away from the mound that concealed Patricia’s casket. The area was pretty private. A nice hedge blocked the view from most traffic.

  Next to my seat stood a pecan tree, currently bare of leaves. Branches clicked together in the breeze that shook them. If not for the rotten egg smell coming from the pulp mill that belched rancidness five miles away, it would have been the site of perfect tranquility. Fortunately I had no need to breathe, so I was able to ignore the mill. I had a seat, opened my drink, and checked out the paper.

  The latest crisis in the Middle East was the usual headline. However Tattingail’s exit from the state senate election and his bid for Tristan’s spot on the county commission was also on the front page, at the bottom. I scanned the story quickly. As usual, Tattingail talked about curbing the ‘hellish’ influence of bloodsuckers and curs (his word for shifters) on Ford County. His brand of vitriolic hatred for paras ran to the extreme, the reason he’d never won any election against Tristan. We liked our bigotry calm and polite and behind paras’ backs in this area, thank you. Small town America was progressive that way.