Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I)

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  "What things?" Cassandra asked.

  "A vamps involved, but he's working with someone else. It's like a scratch my back and I'll scratch yours kind of deal."

  This bit of news made Tremayne frown. Mr. Green had his throat ripped out, but even he had thought it overkill for a vampire attack. Now he knew why. There was another preternatural being involved. "Pray tell, the suspense is killing us," he said and stepped closer. The demon harrumphed, obviously not appreciating his sarcasm.

  "You're looking for a Lamia. She's a crazy bitch too. She runs the show and the vamp from the Draugr sept or maybe it's the Oiche Sith sept…" he said as he glanced at Tremayne with a sneer. "All vamps are the same to me. It's difficult to know which blood drinking being belongs to what sept."

  "Get to the point," Cassandra demanded.

  "Anyhow, the vamp follows the Lamia's orders."

  Tremayne hadn't come across a Lamia since Lorelei Rivers. The creature did mimic traits of a vampire, blood being one of their primary substance, but they also fed off the person's essence, but only if they were experiencing the euphoria of success. Musicians, painters and writers were the creature's favorite prey.

  He glanced at Cassandra with a question: "Have the killings had anything in common?" He hadn't personally checked out the bodies, but maybe Cassandra had. He wouldn't count Mr. Green's slaying as a piece of evidence. He most likely came too close to finding out who the killer was and had simply been eliminated.

  Cassandra fished out her mobile phone and pulled up the file. "All three were male. All were about the same age about twenty-two to twenty-four. Hmm…" She read in silence then her gaze riveted to him. "The arts. One was a poet, one a writer, the other a small time stage actor."

  He nodded. "It fits a Lamia's MO. They tend to latch onto artists and promote them, even make them famous, all the while sucking the life out of them.

  "Like Keats' poem," she said, thoughtfully.

  "Aye, the poet did write about such a creature," he added, impressed she knew of Keats' work. He had often wondered if the poet's writing had been from firsthand knowledge.

  "What's the Lamia's name and where can we find her?" Cassandra asked the demon as if she planned to ring her and make an appointment.

  "How should I know?" the demon sneered. "I'm not privy to her social calendar."

  "Then I guess you've outlived your usefulness." She raised her dagger and brought it down before the demon could protest.

  She was good. He hadn't caught her readying her weapon for the kill. Note to self: never underestimate Cassandra Hayes.

  The demon's body shriveled as it decayed at a rapid speed.

  "I thought you were going to let him go?" He tore his gaze away from the demon sizzling into black goo and looked at her.

  Cassandra straightened to her full height and brushed her hair away from her face with a quick sweep of her hand. He liked this look much better than her strands being tucked away into a bun.

  "The demon?" she asked. "Why would I let him go? He picks up his victims from pubs and they never have a chance to kiss and tell?"

  "And how would you know this?"

  She stuck her hand in her pocket and withdrew a leather wallet and tossed it to him.

  He opened it, revealing snapshots in the photo slips. Only photos of girls, but they weren't smiling for the camera. These women were dead. "Sick bastard."

  "So glad you agree, Mr. Green." Her gaze slid over him. "Don't get soft with these creatures. They're not to be trusted."

  His brows lifted. "None of the preternatural beings?" he asked out of curiosity.

  "None I've come across." She strode by him as she headed for the back door. "Let's go inside and rethink our strategy. We have a vamp and a Lamia to catch. Changes things, don't you agree?"

  Chapter Six

  Cassandra had yet to see Mr. Green or rather Tremayne in action, but she hadn't missed that he'd palmed a dagger back in the alleyway. It was good to know he would have her back if she couldn't handle the situation.

  She'd checked Tremayne out, discreetly of course, or at least she hoped he hadn't caught her subtle glances. The man did ooze with masculinity. It was no wonder the superior's daughter fell into his arms. The poor woman didn't have a chance.

  Good thing she had more self-control or Tremayne might find himself transferred again for not keeping his mind on the objective.

  She took a seat and Tremayne met her on the other side of the bar and leaned on the countertop. "Since a Lamia is a serpentine water creature," he offered his opinion, "she wouldn't be able to resist the call to the water. Might be wise to stakeout the waterfront."

  "My thoughts exactly, but what of the vamp? Until we're sure what sept he's from we should do some research on what to expect from both septs the demon mentioned."

  "Those particular septs do not fear the water," he told her and she was impressed he knew this.

  There were over fifty different vampire septs if not more, and she only knew of them because Derek had been cataloging them. Each was different in how they function in the human world. Most appeared humanlike, but there were other septs that were hideous creatures due to their bloodlust. Some vamps could feed off a human and not change them, but there were other vampire septs where one bite proved lethal and the human would change into a hybrid no matter what they tried to do to stop it.

  "Chances are we're dealing with a Draugr," Tremayne continued. "Since their sept doesn't keep tight reins on their vampires. Most of the time they're loners. Viking bred, so the sea would be in their blood."

  "No matter the case, we'll have to take extra precautions if we're dealing with two preternatural beings with an appetite to kill. They'll have each other's back."

  "Aye." He nodded and pursed his lips. "A Draugr and a Lamia usually do not work together. Like I said a Draugr is usually a loner."

  "Perhaps they hooked up."

  His brow lifted. "As in they're an item?"

  "Sure. Why not? Perhaps the Lamia seduced the vamp."

  "A Lamia is faithful to the bloke she chooses," he said. "At least while she's feeding off him, but we're talking about a vampire. She would not be satisfied with his blood and visa versa. To top it off, the Draugr are jealous sorts. Hence the reason they don't do well in a group. What could the vamp be getting in return?"

  "I thought vampires were sexual creatures. Is there a male being alive that would turn down sex if it was offered? Heck, just a kiss may sway a man into wanting more."

  He cleared his throat, obviously getting her point. "I'm sure any male would enjoy a tumble when offered, but I take offense – for all males considered – that you think we are so easy."

  "Hmm... Are you saying if I kissed you right now, you wouldn't be affected in the least?"

  He chuckled. "That luv, is a loaded question. If I say no, I insult you. If I say aye, then I prove your point. But I'm willing to put it to the test," he said and wagged his eyebrows. "A kiss, you say?"

  "Is that a challenge?" she asked.

  He shrugged, but his lips twitched, threatening to smile.

  She should really let this go, but his eyes told her he expected her to back down. Instead of listening to reason, she leaned on the counter and crooked a finger at him. "Lean closer." His blue eyes assessed her with interest only a man could bestow on a woman. He complied by leaning in so his face was only inches from hers. She lowered her eyelids with a flutter of her lashes.

  "Are you flirting with me, Ms. Hayes?" he asked and there was amusement in his voice and something more, but she didn't pause to decipher the meaning.

  She cupped his face with her hands and kissed him before she lost her nerve. She indulged with a flick of her tongue and when she heard the intake of his breath, she knew she had him. She deepened the kiss to prove her point, but then he did the unexpected and took over, his hands were in her hair as he indulged. All sounds in the pub ceased to exist as if his kiss had rendered her deaf to anything else but him. God, she wished the
barrier separating them would melt away.

  "Get a room!" someone shouted from the end of the bar, proving her hearing hadn't been impaired after all. They pulled apart, both a little breathless.

  She'd wanted to prove a point and at the moment the purpose was loss to her. Darn it, she hadn't expected Tremayne to kiss her back.

  She grinned and hoped she fooled him into thinking the caress hadn't affected her as much as it had. "See how easy it is to distract the male species?" Her shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "Human, vampire…sex has always been a great motivator."

  Tremayne's gaze shifted to her mouth before he sighed. "Point taken, Miss Hayes. Good thing we stopped with just a kiss then. Aye?" He winked at her and she felt the heat rise from her neck to her cheeks, but she refused to acknowledge his remark.

  "Anyway… The vamp could lure in the next victim and perhaps she even shares. Who knows, maybe they get off on pleasing each other with their appetite to kill." Her eyes shifted and he followed her gaze to the portrait hanging over the bottles of beer and wine. "So do you know if that is what a Lamia truly looks like in her preternatural form?" she asked with a tilt of her head as she eyed the portrait with a new interest.

  "Aye," he said slowly with a frown. "Legend states the Lamia's victims were sailors who sang ballads at sea."

  "Probably not many sailors who sing ballads these days. Guess our Lamia is picking her guys up on land."

  "Perhaps we've deduced the Lamia's reason for keeping company with a vampire."

  "I see where you're going," Cassandra said with a nod. "He ventures inland and leads the victims to her." She glanced at her watch and noticed the time was fast approaching one in the morning. "We'll stake out the wharf in shifts. "Do you want to take the dayshift? Say 2 PM to 6 PM, so you can get some shuteye?"

  "Uh…no."

  "No? Don't you need to tend to the bar in the evenings?"

  "I do, but I have a staff that can run the pub for a few days. The wharf is a bit tricky at night. I would feel better if I took the late nightshift. It by no means is any reflection on your ability to fend for yourself," he hurried to explain. "As you pointed out, the Lamia prefers the male species, and she'll be much stronger when the moon colors the night sky."

  Her lips curved. "Flowery talk will definitely draw the Lamia in your direction." He frowned and she realized he wasn't trying to be funny. "The moon colors the night sky," she offered a hint to what she was referring to. "Mr. Poet, you do have a way with words, is all I'm saying."

  "Must be me mum's influence," he said with an over exaggerated Irish accent and then grinned. "She'd charm her wee ones with stories and legends."

  She couldn't help but smile, too. She really liked Tremayne. She wished she could have met him under different circumstances where they could actually go out on a date, but now was not the time for fantasies. Her gaze took in his exquisite perfection with just a touch of wildness, and she sighed with regret. "I'll catch a few hours of sleep then," she told him. "I'll take the day shift. I'll visit the morgue too. See if I can find out any information on where our victims spent their last days." She stood then and tapped the counter three times for good luck. Something her father would do when he headed out on a job, and a hunter could always do with a little extra luck.

  Her parents were working overseas right now, but thought they'd be home for Christmas. She remembered as a child staying with relatives while they hunted. Her parents lived and breathed hunting and their duty to the society of hunters. She didn't have much of a normal childhood because of it.

  She had her first weapon at the age of five, a small dagger that felt like a sword in her hands. Her training started then. Her father pushed her hard to learn all the techniques to keep her safe from an Otherworldy attack. Her brothers were treated the same. It was kill or be killed in a hunter's family.

  "You okay?" Tremayne asked with concern.

  "Peachy." She nodded. "I'll keep you posted if I find out anything new."

  "I'll do the same," he said.

  She turned away intent on heading out of the pub and back to her hotel to do some research.

  "Miss Hayes," Tremayne called to her and she turned.

  "Hmm?" She met his eyes that twinkled with mischief.

  "Thanks for the lesson and the kiss." He winked and gave her a full out smile that revealed his dimple.

  "My pleasure," she said, and it had been. She'd like to teach him a few more things, but she had a hunch Tremayne had already mastered most of what she knew and more, but if he didn't kiss and tell, she wouldn't either.

  She successfully weaved her way through the crowd and toward the door without incident, but she had the strangest feeling Tremayne watched her every move. Standing in the archway, she glanced over her shoulder and felt a tinge of disappointment curl around her. Tremayne wasn't looking at her at all. He was pouring a drink for one of the men seated at the bar and laughing at something he said.

  "Just because you're interested, doesn't mean he is," she murmured under her breath and stepped outside. A cool breeze met her, scented with the sea. Not an unpleasant odor, but one she associated with home. With her condo being within walking distance to Huntington Beach, she often walked the pier – alone. It would be nice if sometimes she had a companion.

  Linking arms with Tremayne came to mind. Good-looking hunk of a man by her side and strolling down the boardwalk… Yep, not going to happen, but she could dream.

  Chapter Seven

  Tremayne appreciated Cassandra's sure walk as she maneuvered her way through the crowd and out the door of his pub. He also admired her tenacious attitude, her ability to hold her own in a fight, and her snarky banter. If she were an Oiche Sith, he'd consider pursuing her. He halted his thoughts right there and frowned. What exactly did he think would come of his daydreaming about something that could never be? He flirted with danger, literally when he challenged her to a kiss. A kiss he might add that left him wanting so much more. Just one more thing to add to Cassandra's many talents.

  Good thing Miss Cassandra Hayes hadn't caught him staring after her like a love-struck youth. Thanks to his cover of playing the part of Mr. Green, she already believed he had a roving eye when it came to the ladies. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Not even one full day and his cover story had become complicated.

  "You're going to have your hands full with that hunter," Bram told him, not without humor before he turned serious. "How far will you let this charade go? And you kissing her? What possessed you to indulge? What if she'd noticed your fangs?"

  "She didn't," he said with a grumble. "I was in control, and for your information, she was the one to kiss me."

  "I didn't see you fending her off," Bram countered.

  Tremayne harrumphed. "You are a fine one to be spouting dos and don'ts when you took a human for your mate without the blessing of the sept."

  Bram's dark brows shot up. "You're bringing up something centuries old? Is that all you have?"

  Tremayne pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache starting to take root. "I can handle one little hunter," he reassured Bram, even though he was beginning to believe he was in way over his head.

  "She looked to be handling you," Bram countered. "What will you do if she requests an audience with you in broad daylight?"

  "I'll convince her to reconsider." Even to his own ears he sounded defensive. Besides our preys embrace the night. Doubt they'll be causing havoc during the daylight hours." He glanced at Sheerin for help in getting Bram off his back, but the genius was hunched over and scribbling in his notebook and mumbling something under his breath. There would be no support from him while he had an idea stewing in his head.

  "This time," Bram continued, "but there will be a next time, mark my words. She will become suspicious if you continue to avoid meeting her in the daylight. What then?"

  He pursed his lips. He should have never answered Mr. Green's mobile, but unless someone knew how to turn back time, the damage was do
ne.

  "What happened to the demon?" Bram asked. "The one she convinced to follow her outside?" He added with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't see him return and the band's still playing. Seemed to be enjoying the music before she made her move on him." He inclined his head toward the stage.

  "Since when are you a fan of the Hashasheen demons?" he snapped.

  "To be sure that answers my question well enough."

  "Stuff it, Bram. The Hashasheen had it coming. He's killed humans and the WFTL would be all over my arse if I had let him go. As I see it, the hunter did us all a big favor. The Hashasheen also gave us a lead on who's responsible for the killings that the news anchors have been clamoring about. Claimed a Draugr teamed up with the Lamia."

  "Wouldn't put it past a Draugr to take what he wanted." Bram pursed his lips, and Tremayne agreed. Centuries ago they had to fend off Draugr attacks from their coastland. They'd arrived in their clinker built ships with a dragon's head at the bow and stern. Sometimes the fights were long and bloody. Many never returned home to the Graystone castle, but the Draugr sept didn't fair much better.

  "I'll make inquiries with the WFTL to see where they stand on this," Bram offered.

  While you're at it, could you find out what happened to Lorelei Rivers?"

  "Isn't that the Lamia you were involved with at one time?" Bram asked and glanced at the portrait.

  "Not one of my better moves." He glanced at the painting behind him too. He told Cassandra it came with the pub, but he'd purchased the prize from Lorelei Rivers in the early 1900s. True to the legends, the Lamia loved young men who favored the arts, seduced them and fed off them and in exchange, she gave them the fame they craved, maybe not enough to be mentioned in the history books, but enough to keep them satisfied. One of her lovers had painted the portrait he now owned.

  Tremayne had been quite fond of Lorelei until she began to lure men from the establishment, he'd owned back then, for her own personal needs, which also involved bank robberies and a killing spree. It didn't end well for the men, and he had to ask Lorelei to move on elsewhere or he'd turn her in to the GOJ. She didn't leave. He made the call. He wondered what became of her? He hadn't seen her since then and had assumed the GOJ had taken care of her, but what if they hadn't?