Animal Attraction (10 page)

I bit back a laugh. “Miss Gertrude can’t hear
or talk to you. She’s the library’s memory.”

Arthur chuckled to realize his mistake. “Of
course. What we call a revenant back home.”

Dan decided Arthur wasn’t there to steal our
energy or do us any harm. He went back to the head librarian’s
desk. I noted he still had his book in hand. One of us had good
sense, at least.

As Dan took his chair he said, “We don’t mind
you being here. We’re doing some research on shifters. Some of ours
have gone missing.”

Arthur frowned. “I’d heard. Perhaps I can
help?”

“We’re researching what we don’t know about
weres,” I told him. “It’s boring.”

I went to the shelves where Miss Gertrude
stood, forever engrossed in her book. My horrendous book waited in
its spot, and I pulled it from the shelf. Arthur came close to read
the cover over my shoulder. The man smelled like burnt toast this
time. It wasn’t a terrible smell but unusual. Then again,
everything about Arthur Dragwald seemed unusual.

He snorted. “Written by Jamus Percy. A right
boring fellow. Hopefully his writing is better than his company
was.”

“I hope not,” I sighed. “Heaven help the man
if he was worse in person than this.”

Arthur chuckled and moved away to look over
the selections available to us. I heard him alternate between
exclamations and sighs. The man really did like his books.

I went back to the reading table, passing Dan
at the desk. Fortunately all the accessories we’d cleared off
during our torrid tryst had returned themselves to their rightful
places. I wondered what Arthur’s reaction would have been had he
decided to investigate the library a couple of hours earlier.

Dan looked up and caught my eye. His gaze
darted to the enraptured Arthur in the fiction section, authors W
through Wil, then he looked at me again and winked. I guessed my
sweetie was thinking the same thing.

I bit my lips together to hold in a giggle. A
not-so-happy thought came: what if Arthur kept coming around? Would
Dan and I have to give up the library as our special place? Boo.
Hiss.

I sat down at the table and eyed Percy’s
insufferable manuscript. With a sigh, I opened it to the title page
and eyed the old-fashioned print. I frowned.

“Hey.”

Dan looked up. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing to do with our problem but – Mr.
Dragwald?”

Our guest came into view. He was working
backwards through the alphabet apparently, now in the U through V
section. “Arthur, please,” he reminded me. “What can I help you
with?”

“Well, you were talking about this writer
Jamus Percy ... but this book was published in the late 1800’s. Did
he live to be really old?”

Arthur blinked. “No, not to my knowledge.
When I spoke of how boring he was, that was from hearing of it
through my university days. I have a degree in history,
specializing in paranormal studies. Jamus was a must-read when
doing research.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I paged through the book, looking for where
I’d left off. Arthur went back to his tour. I felt a little silly
for asking such a dumb question, but Arthur had sure spoken as if
he’d personally known the author. He’d even referred to him by his
first name.

Oh well. It must be a British thing. I sighed
and got back to work.

* * * *

Night put me back in Patricia’s body. I found
one bright spot in returning to where I didn’t want to be: no
flying lesson to start my nocturnal festivities. Instead, I
reported to the King George’s conference room for my first meeting
with Tristan’s representative council. I’d already dubbed us the
Fulton Falls Para Committee. Between that and Para Central, I
seemed to have a need to name stuff.

Of the group Wendy was the only missing
member. Busy being Tristan’s secretary, she was excused. The poor
woman had plenty on her plate; we’d agreed she could join our merry
band once our fearless leader won his election and left for
Atlanta.

Dan settled himself in Jason while the rest
of us chattered quietly. We started when Dan, in Jason’s body,
stood up.

“Okay, let’s get this thing going. Is there
anyone here who can take minutes?”

Isabella Rodriguez raised a hand and burrowed
in the bucket she calls a purse for a notepad and pen. “I can. I
used to be the secretary for the PTA.”

That did not surprise me. Isabella was the
perfect image of mom and grandmother with her still-black hair
pulled into a coiled braid at the back of her head, her soft body
made for cuddling a child, and the scent of fresh baking hanging
about her. My channel when I’m in ghost form, Isabella was a
much-loved presence by virtue of her sweet disposition.

“Here, this will be easier to use,” I
invited, sending my laptop her way.

“Thank you, Brandilynn. This will be much
better.” Isabella beamed at me like I’d done something particularly
clever. Ah, you gotta love the motherly type. It made even my icy,
still heart want to melt.

She brought up the program she wanted to use
to record our doings. Dan again took the lead, this time from a
seated position. “Okay, Tristan has asked us to investigate this
matter of the shifters who have gone missing in this town.
Brandilynn, can you share with us what Levi Ward told you?”

I’m not used to taking part in formal
meetings. Feeling a bit self-conscious even amongst my friends, I
began. “Levi’s interest is in those two shifters missing from his
own staff. We’re talking law enforcement. Those people have worked
hard to not only raise their own status in the community but also
to represent the best of shifters to the norm public. They are men
with families and futures. The police have no leads right now.”

Dan looked to the werepanther at the table
next. “We should hear from our resident expert. Gerald?”

“I personally know of four others myself,
though my understanding is eight total are missing. We need to get
the names of the two Ward mentioned, the instructors from the
federal law enforcement training center.”

I made a note. “I guess that will be my gig.
The ones you know about – do they have anything in common with the
missing instructors?”

Gerald shrugged. “Other than them being
successful business professionals and pillars of the community, not
really.”

Lana gave him wide eyes. “I’m surprised you
haven’t heard more, Gerald.”

He looked embarrassed. “I’ve got a few things
working against me on this. First of all, I’m little more than
Tristan’s hired muscle. People get too close to him or Patri – uh,
Brandilynn, and I move them out of the way. I don’t tend to run in
the same circles as these professional types.”

Dan’s tone held no accusation. “Fair enough.
What else is in the way?”

“I’m not the same flavor as the rest of the
weres here. They prefer to keep to their own kind most of the time.
It’s different among those of us who work with Tristan, but I’m
still kept out of the loop for the most part where the gators,
bears, hogs, and snakes are concerned.”

I frowned. “Eddie was your best friend.”

Eddie had been a werehog, a gentleman in
every way except when he had to bust heads on Tristan’s behalf. He
was killed by the same creature that took out Patricia.

Gerald had taken Eddie’s death hard, and pain
crossed his face for a moment. “He was the exception. We hung out a
lot one on one, not me with a bunch of hogs. I never asked Eddie
what was up in werehog world, you know? It wasn’t my scene. What
I’ve picked up is secondhand. Some of the gang here asked if I’ve
seen so-and-so or heard anything about the matter.”

Dan considered before posing his next
question. “Do you think those who work here will talk to you? Let
you in on what the missing might have been up to prior to their
disappearances?”

“They might if they think Tristan has an
interest in it. Truth is, I don’t think they realize that these
aren’t isolated cases. If they know shifters are being targeted as
a group, they’ll talk.” Gerald sounded sure about that.

“Great. You work on that angle, but make it
after you and Brandilynn meet up with Agent Ward.” Dan turned back
to me. “Get that set up as soon as you can. Meanwhile, I’ll go poke
around the police station and see if they know more than they’re
letting on.”

Dan’s tone turned a little grimmer as he
addressed our psychic. I doubt it was because of the electric pink
polyester pantsuit she wore, but the outfit was worth being grim
over. “Lana, for the ones we have names on, see if you can talk to
the families. You may be able to pick up on something.”

I thought there was only one reason to send
Lana out like that. “You want to know if their ghosts are hanging
around? If they’ve died?”

Lana bit her lip. The lipstick, as pink as
her pantsuit, smeared on her teeth. “Oh, I hope that won’t be the
case. But if it is, I’ll find out what happened to them.”

Dan smiled encouragingly with Jason’s face
before moving on to the last of our group. “Isabella, I know you’re
babysitting for the next few days.”

The channel offered him an apologetic shrug.
“Sorry. My son and his wife have had this trip planned for months.
It’s too late for them to find someone else to keep the
babies.”

Dan waved her off. “Not a problem. I
appreciate you coming out tonight and taking notes. Okay folks,
let’s see what we can get done. Except for Isabella, we’ll meet
back here tomorrow night.”

The gathering broke up. I blew Dan a kiss
after he departed Jason and before he disappeared to carry out his
mission of spying on the police. Then I turned to Gerald.

“Let’s load up the car with a case of liquid
sanity and go see Levi. I’ve still got to make that county
commission meeting with Tristan later tonight.”

Gerald snorted. “Forget the case of Blood
Potion then. We need an army of donors for that nonsense.”

We headed out, snickering together over small
town dramatics.

Chapter 5

When I first met Levi last autumn, he’d been
undercover. His abode then had been a tidy but nondescript trailer
parked out in the woods. Now that he was assigned as Para Academy
Director at the federal training facility nearby, he’d
upgraded.

“Nice neighborhood,” Gerald noted as we
purred through the Marshes of McIntosh subdivision on the north end
of Fulton Falls.

It was nice. These were not cookie cutter
houses that one found so often in these planned communities. There
were snug little ranch-types, prim colonials, and even beach houses
on stilts on the marsh side of the neighborhood. Upper middle class
all the way with professionally maintained lawns and at least
half-an-acre lots for each home.

The werewolf federal agent had snagged
himself a cedar-sided A-frame with a couple of stately oaks
dripping Spanish moss on his front yard. He had an acre of
well-maintained lawn. He’d done all right for himself.

The shifter in question blinked to see me and
Gerald on his doorstep when he answered our ring. He recovered
quickly. “Well, hello. Brandilynn and her pussy are here. How did I
rate this visit?”

I ignored his rude double entendre. “I
apologize for dropping in on you unannounced. Can you talk to
us?”

“You? Always. Him?” Levi eyed Gerald with
open suspicion. “As long as there are no furballs left on the
carpet.”

“What about blood?” Gerald asked in a casual
tone.

Levi’s face split in a grin. “Come on
in.”

He shoved the door with its inset panels of
glass wide open. I stepped into the entryway, appreciating the wood
planked flooring and walls with ceiling molding. A cherry table
with beveled mirror overhead allowed me to check my appearance.
Patricia gazed back at me, her demeanor as cool and calm as she’d
ever displayed. Satisfied that my glamour was well in place, I
admired the Van Gogh print on the opposite wall. Yes, Levi had
certainly moved up since quitting his tenure as a motorcycle
gangbanger.

Levi waved us towards the back of the house.
A lighted doorway showed he’d been there before our arrival. “Come
on back to the kitchen. I was about to grill myself a steak. I’ve
got an extra if Kitten wants some.”

Gerald had his own insult ready to go. “I
never refuse steak, Pup. Thanks.”

I put my hands on my hips and scowled at the
pair. “Am I going to have to listen to you two do this the whole
time?”

They looked at each other, sizing up. Levi’s
eyes sparkled. “Probably,” he decided.

Gerald smirked. “Yeah.”

Levi turned and headed towards the kitchen,
his bare feet not making a sound on the gleaming wood floor. Gerald
followed, padding silently in flip-flops despite the cold outside.
Shifting plays heck on shoes, particularly if one turns into
something with claws. Most weres go barefoot when possible.

I followed the pair, my ankle boot heels
clicking along as I shook my head at the agreed-upon sniping to
come. Despite the digs they aimed at each other, I sensed a growing
camaraderie between Levi and Gerald. And why not? They were both
outsiders even in the legions of Fulton Falls’ shifters.

As we stepped into the spacious kitchen with
its light gray granite tops, Levi said, “I take it we’re going to
discuss missing shifters?”

I went to the kitchen island with its
diner-looking vinyl and chrome barstools and had a seat. “Tristan
has developed an interest in the case.”

“It’s a good thing you stopped by. I’ve got
some new information.” Playing the good host, Levi spoke to Gerald
who perched on a stool next to me. “Coffee? Tea? Beer?”

“Coffee’s good.”

“Can I offer cream without being insulting?”
The roguish gleam had yet to disappear from Levi’s golden brown
eyes.

Gerald grinned and patted his dark chest,
exposed by the open neck of the shirt he wore. “Like everyone with
good taste, I only take it black.”