Gerald frowned. “I don’t know that they do anything with that area. It’s not part of the golf course.”
My mind raced, but I tried not to get ahead of myself. I let my brain churn over what I knew as I bantered with the shifter. “Are you a golfer, Gerald?”
He grinned. “Only when I want to relax with friends and a cooler of beers all day. I can’t say I play for the game.”
I laughed. “Does the club have a course?”
“It did years ago before I became a shifter. Back then I went when they opened it up to non-members for benefit tournaments. My kind is not exactly welcome in the club. No way that’s where the body came from.”
“They aren’t supposed to be allowed to discriminate.”
He shrugged. “Like a lot of places, they get around the law. You have to be recommended by a member to get in. And since shifters are never recommended, it doesn’t come up.”
“They don’t hire shifters to do any of their menial work? Like caddying or such?”
“If they do, I haven’t heard of it. Maybe they let them work out of everyone’s sight. It seems like highbrow places always have staff that no one ever lays eyes on.”
I quirked a bitter smile at him. “Separate entrances and all, right?”
Gerald’s look was equally as bitter. “Bet on it.”
Dan was silent, listening to us. It surprised me that neither man had picked up on what seemed clear as day to me. Go, girl power. Or woman’s intuition. Or whatever I had going for me.
I laid it out for them. “Tattingail told Warner he would call him in, and when he did to use the service entrance. A shifter was found dead a few miles away from club grounds. I may have been shot at from club grounds. Tattingail is a member of the country club ... and he’s been bitching at the county commission to modify zoning for the members’ hunting use.”
Both men blinked. Dan’s mouth dropped open. Gerald’s ears stood straight up on his head. I nodded and bared fangs as anger suffused me.
“Tattingail hasn’t started a fight club. It’s worse. The bastard is blackmailing shifters into letting him hunt them.”
Chapter 10
There is nothing so exhilarating as feeling like you have all the answers. There is nothing as big a letdown as realizing there is nothing you can do about them.
We discussed our options and found none. As Patricia, I’d have some hefty explaining to do about nosing around a crime scene. I could have claimed I’d gone flying and happened to zoom over an area where someone took potshots at me. But then I’d have to tell the cops where I’d been going, what I was doing, so on and so forth. That meant telling them my suspicions. Suspicions with absolutely no concrete evidence. Even the circumstantial stuff was kind of thin when I thought about it.
Telling them what I knew as a ghost was also a – wait for it – dead end. Ha-ha. Ghosts were not legal witnesses since only a handful of people could communicate with the really dead. That law also extended to the souls of vampires when they left their bodies for the day. Nothing they saw as ghosts was admissible. That’s mundane human justice for you. Para rights still have a long way to go.
Beyond my own legal issues, running my mouth to law enforcement would get Ashley’s husband in deep poo. He’d go to jail. Ashley and Jesse already struggled with the fallout of Ryan becoming a shifter. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire if his embezzlement became known.
All we could do was wait for something solid to come along, something we could take to the police to nail Tattingail. And hope that particular something didn’t cost someone their life like it had the werehog shifter.
The next step was for Taylor to track Ryan’s watch and see if it led her to Tattingail or the country club. We hoped the dead shifter’s autopsy would show he’d been shot by a bullet infused with silver. Maybe we’d find some way to pin the Tats to the wall through one of those options, though I wasn’t sure how.
With no options, we set about other tasks. I sent Levi an email about what had happened. Dan and Gerald went off to check in with the police and Tristan, respectively. They were as morose and thoughtful as me when they left.
I judged it to be about two hours until daylight when my skin prickled. I had the feeling I someone watched me. I turned my head from my computer monitor to look towards the door. Arthur stood there, smiling in a charmingly hopeful manner. Remembering our last encounter, I was not charmed. I scowled at him.
He nodded as if he’d expected such. “Ah, I see you are still displeased with me. I came to offer my humblest apologies.”
He bowed in that old-fashioned way of his and stepped up to the desk. With an air of great ceremony, he extended his arm and rolled back the sleeve of his cream-colored shirt. I stared at the limb. It was devoid of any hair. The top was bronze-tanned and the underside almost as white as Patricia’s skin. It looked weird. My curiosity on how he’d managed to tan the back of his arm in winter was arrested by the network of veins that showed under the paler bit.
Plus there was that interesting sizzling scent of his. My tongue ran along the tips of my fangs. I thought his blood might crackle with life inside my mouth. He smelled like bright, flaring vitality.
Arthur looked at me with amusement, as if he guessed what I thought. “A peace offering. You may take my blood if it will repair our acquaintanceship.”
If there was ever a test to my resolve to not feed on the living, this fit the bill. Even as my heart remembered Dan and shouted no! I leaned forward in anticipation. Arthur’s aroma burned inside my nostrils ... alive, vibrant, exciting. If he tasted half as good as he smelled, his blood would be a feast like no other.
I glanced at his face. The avid interest he showed mirrored mine. This wasn’t merely an attempt to make amends. He wanted me to drink from him. He desired it. Profoundly.
That and a renewed sense of the amusement he’d shown when I’d crashed during the flying lesson jerked me to a halt. Remembering how Arthur had laughed at me brought me back to myself. Holy smokes, I lay halfway across my desk, practically crawling over it to get at him. My mouth gaped open. I knew the glamour hiding my fangs had dissolved.
Thank goodness I’d glutted on BP9 in the effort to heal my arm. I drew back with real regret, but I was able to do it. I wrapped glamour around myself, feeling a wave of embarrassment for having shown too much hunger. How humiliating.
It made me want to swipe Arthur’s head off and drown from the fountain that would erupt from his neck. Thankfully that brought a vision of me humping his headless corpse. Blood and sex, the vampire’s dynamic duo. Knowing how easily such a scenario could happen tamped down the vampire urges plaguing me.
With as much dignity as I could muster, I stood up straight and strong behind my desk. I folded my arms beneath my breasts and did my best cool and collected Patricia imitation. “The bottled stuff does me fine. I’m not really a vampire, after all.”
The old protest sounded worn even to me. Arthur’s brows rose. “No? You certainly look like one. You really looked like one a second ago.”
I felt like he egged me on. Did he want me to feed on him so much? Maybe he had a vampire fetish.
Nope. Gerald was my one indiscretion, and I had every intention of eradicating even his hunky gorgeous self off my play list. I was Dan’s sweetie.
Since Arthur knew I existed as ghost and vampire, I told him, “This is not my body. I was drawn into it against my will. The lack of flying ability should have clued you in.”
Uninvited, he sat in one of the chairs across my desk. He gave me a little nod and rolled his sleeve back down to button it at his wrist. “Augustus told me of your dilemma. The dead who became the undead. I don’t know that anyone has seen your like before, Ms. Payson.”
I sat down too, though I wanted to make him leave. Yet there was way too much I didn’t know about this man. I wanted to find out why Augustus had sent him our way. And I wanted to know why I found him so darned compelling.
I said, “I woul
dn’t wish my existence on my worst enemy. How do you know Augustus, Mr. Dragwald?”
He crooked a horsey smile. “We go way back. We’ve been acquainted for so long, it seems like ancient history.” He abruptly changed the subject. “You know, flying is much more than flapping wings or levitating. Augustus might have told you that.”
If he started laughing at me again, I would take a bite out of him. However, he seemed to know something about the subject. I said, “If it was just a matter of lifting off and moving the way I wanted to, I wouldn’t have half the problems I do.”
“Are you religious?”
Another sudden change of subject. Maybe Arthur had an attention disorder or something. My head spun from trying to keep up with him.
I drew a steadying breath. “I can’t say I am. I believe in God, though his accountant for souls seems to have fallen asleep on the job.”
Arthur’s gaze went distant. He nodded. “Ah yes, the great mystery of why some spirits depart at death and others remain to haunt the living. And then there are the vampires like you – excuse me, dear lady, like the body you inhabit – who are caught in a kind of in-between existence. Do you ever hear the singing when that body dies for the day?”
His question startled me. How did he know about that? “Each time I leave this body I hear it. Have you ever heard it?”
“I’ve heard it mentioned by vampires. They say it is the sound of purest exaltation. The voice of joyous deliverance, the sweetest breath of heaven.”
I thought that was the perfect description of what I heard. I sat frozen, awestruck to know it wasn’t just me.
Arthur’s smile seemed benevolent. Kind, even. With a tone that was downright paternal, he said, “To fly, my poor trapped girl, is to ride the wings of your soul, to be uplifted by exaltation. Exaltation.” He sighed. “I do love that word. Think on that deathsong the next time you try to fly. Hear it. Feel it. Soar upon its melody.”
With that he stood, bowed, and left the office. I gaped after him.
The man was so weird. I couldn’t figure out if he was supposed to be friend or enemy. Crazier still, I didn’t know if I disliked him or not. And I still had no idea how he and Augustus were connected.
* * * *
The next day was Saturday. Since Taylor assisted Tristan, she was as nocturnal as the vampires. He had been advised of my request for her help, so he let her go home early Friday night to get some sleep before tracking Ryan’s travels.
She and Lana showed up at Para Central about mid-morning. They collected the pocketwatch and started out in Lana’s little car. I tagged along to see firsthand what Taylor might uncover.
It was no surprise for Taylor to be drawn straight to the hospital. Since Ryan went to work more days than not, of course the watch would lead us there. Patricia sat in the passenger seat, rubbing her thumb over the watch’s cover and concentrating. After a couple of minutes, she directed Lana out of the parking lot.
We ended up at the Episcopal church where I’d been brought up. I assumed it was the same one Ashley’s family attended these days. I reported that to Lana, who shared it with Taylor. Taylor tried again.
This time we went to the Coastal Pediatric Center. I guessed this was where pre-Zoo Flu Ryan had practiced. Another dead end.
“I’m getting nothing else,” Taylor sighed. “This isn’t telling me anything.”
I felt disappointed but ready to go with another tack. “Lana, let’s head for Highway 17, out by Pate’s Corners.”
“Where that shifter was found dead? Good idea.”
Taylor agreed with the change in tactics. We took a little drive.
Luck was with us. The crime scene unit had apparently finished their work first thing that morning because all the ‘Do Not Cross’ yellow tape was gone. Lana parked by the side of the road and we got out of her car.
“You can see where the police were tracking in and out, there to your right,” I told Lana.
She pointed out the path to Taylor, and the two women headed for the spot where the shifter’s body had been found. I stuck with them in case they somehow wandered off. They did not, and we were soon at the scene.
“This is it,” I told Lana.
“You can tell from how trampled everything is,” she said. She wrinkled her nose at the brown stains that remained on the needle- carpeted ground. “Poor man.”
I swore I still smelled the rot that had begun to take hold of the body that had been removed. The stench of decay did not depart easily.
Taylor took the watch back out. She concentrated so hard that she frowned. Lines creased between her brows, and I had an urge to warn her about premature wrinkling.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It was worth a try though.”
“Darn it,” I sighed. I’d hoped she would pick up on Ryan having been near the area, like at the country club or something.
I heard something crackle in the brush a few yards away. It sounded big and it moved in our direction. At that moment I noted all bird cries in the area had gone quiet. Lana and Taylor exchanged a look.
Lana said, “Maybe a deer? Or a wild pig? Should we call out in case it’s a hunter?”
Taylor peered in the direction “It shouldn’t be since this is county land. Better safe than sorry. Hello!”
The noises ceased. The woods went silent with an unnatural stillness. Lana and Taylor looked at each other again with real alarm in their eyes. A feral pig or one of the rare bears in the area were not things to mess with.
I said, “Hold on and I’ll check it out.”
Lana whispered my message to Taylor as I rushed towards where I’d heard the noise. I didn’t bother skirting the dense foliage, letting bushes and underbrush pass through my insubstantial body.
I hadn’t gone far when I trotted right through a human. I gasped as I found Cliff Tattingail behind a tree with several palmettos springing up around it. He was hidden so Taylor and Lana couldn’t see him from their position.
He watched them through the scope of a shotgun he pointed in their direction.
I stared at him in shock. Surely he just spied. He wasn’t aiming – right? That’s what I told myself as I ran my hands over and through him, searching for his cell phone. Yep, right there in his hunting vest’s breast pocket. Thank goodness for twenty-first century technology and everyone’s insistence on carrying it everywhere they went.
I sucked down the phone’s power fast, getting that lovely tingling sensation throughout my body. I concentrated and sent all the power I’d stolen into my arms, giving them some semblance of physical strength. Then I shoved Tattingail as hard as I could.
He yelled out and dropped his gun as he flailed to avoid landing face-first in the palmettos. Their leaves are sharp enough to cut skin. I was a little disappointed he managed to throw himself to one side instead. Still, it meant he was out in the open where Lana and Taylor could see him. Best of all, his gun no longer trained in their direction.
Lana cried out, “Mr. Tattingail! What are you doing out here?”
He got to his feet, picking his gun up. He propped it up on his shoulder and glared at my companions. “I’m minding my own business! Maybe you should tell me what you are doing here?”
Taylor folded her arms and gave him cool eyes. “You were hunting on county property and out of season. That won’t look good seeing as how you’re trying to win a spot on the county commission.”
The Tats reddened. I wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment at being caught. His tone was pure bluster as he replied. “I was hunting on club property, which is allowed even at this time of year. I must have accidentally left it. I was about to let you have it for trespassing.”
He kept the rifle shouldered, but Lana and Taylor eyed it anyway. As did I. His comment about ‘letting them have it’ worried me more than I care to say.
It didn’t help my concerns that he knew who they were either. “You think you’re so smart, tied to that unholy vampire. Well, he’s leaving soon. I’l
l clean out the vermin infesting this county of all paras ... even the ones who look human!” He gave both women a scathing look. “You better watch yourselves and the enemies you make.”
With that last threat, Tattingail stormed off, not looking back. For their part, Lana and Taylor slowly backed down the path that led to the car. I knew they were uncomfortable turning their backs to the preacher, though he had already disappeared in the opposite direction.
I called out, “I’ll follow him, Lana. I’ll make sure he’s gone.”
She nodded, her mascara-clotted eyes wide. “Thanks for watching our backs, Brandilynn. And for whatever you did to bring him out in the open.”
I set off, running after the sounds of Tattingail’s stomping feet. I soon caught up to him. He stormed through the brush, weaving this way and that as he headed northwest. He muttered under his breath. I occasionally caught a word like ‘abominations’ or ‘soulless’.
“Pot calling the kettle black,” I told him. I didn’t know why I kept insulting him when he couldn’t hear me. It made me feel better though.
We were about a mile from where he’d confronted Taylor and Lana when we came up to a chainlink fence. Tattingail paused to look back the way he’d come. I guess he was making sure he hadn’t been followed. Satisfied he was alone, he scaled the fence with some difficulty and kept going.
Pretty sure he wasn’t going to go back and use my friends for target practice, I roamed a little way along the fence. I hadn’t gone more than fifty feet when I saw a sign attached to it. It read ‘Fulton Falls Country Club – Private Property’.
I’d seen enough. I ‘ported back to where I’d left Taylor and Lana.
They were still there, standing a few yards from where the shifter’s body had ended up. They had their heads bent close together, short dark hair and long blond curls. They seemed to be looking at something Taylor held. Was the watch finally telling her something?
Animal Attraction Page 18
