Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy (32 page)

I opened wide and sucked in a monster
hit of electronic nutrition. The power burst over me, setting my
hair on end, raising me up on tip toe, and quaking me with orgasm.
Imagine your entire body as a clitoris and you just came in contact
with the world’s biggest, strongest vibrator. Oh yeah. It was that
frickin’ awesome.

The interior lights of the van
fluctuated, and machines beeped in alarm. As I yelled a “Woo!” that
would have made wrestler Ric Flair proud, the cameraman climbed
into the van beside me.

“Shit, now what?”

I burst from the van pumped so full of
energy that twenty laps around both courthouses wouldn’t have
settled me down. As I raced towards the podium and the assembled
aides, I heard a shocked, “Did you see that? I think we had a ghost
in here!”

I didn’t stick around to introduce
myself. Fairly crackling with power, I ran towards the familiar
faces of Lana, Gerald, Taylor and Isabella.

The organizers of the press conference
had lit the steps of the courthouse until it was as bright as a
summer’s day on the beach. To one side stood the four people I
needed to speak to most, and I flew with the winged shoes of
Mercury to reach them.

Every sense I possessed was as bright
as the lights. The typewriter chatter of conversations, the hum of
nearby traffic with an occasional splatter of engines possessing
less well maintained mufflers, even the buzzing song of the cicadas
were a cacophony. And the scents: a smoky bed of gasoline underlay
the resonance of human sweat, deodorized by a spiral galaxy of
colognes. Sweetest of all was the springtime coating of azaleas and
wisteria that made the humid air a warm, soothing
blanket.

In my sensitized state, I was having
difficulty attending the task at hand. Everything wanted to
distract me; the gray shrouds of Spanish moss hanging like cocooned
bodies from the gnarled oaks, the urge to stroke the plump cheek of
a baby slumbering in its stroller while its mom replaited the
cornrows of an older sister, the sickle-thin knife of the moon
rising in the star-splatted sky. I wanted to revel in the sights
and sensations of this night, but death loomed large for my vamp
sweetie and his sister if I gave in to diversion.

I leapt among Tristan’s trusted group,
springing with all the vigor of a kangaroo. “Lana! Lana, can you
hear me?”

Lana’s cry broke into the group’s
discussion of what was keeping Tristan and Patricia. “Brandilynn?
Honey, what’s wrong?”

Everyone silenced and turned to her. I
jabbered fast and loud anyway, as if I stood in the middle of a
monster truck rally. My volume control was badly lacking.
“Tristan’s under attack. He needs help out by Sanderson Cottage on
the island. Get everybody out there!”

Lana’s face creased in frowning
concentration. She shook her head slightly. “Calm down, Brandilynn,
I didn’t get anything past ‘Tristan’s under a flag.’”

I stamped my foot in frustration, and
suddenly realized I was barefoot. And still wearing the bikini I’d
donned to taunt the Judge. I sure looked cute in it. Too bad no one
could see me.

Darn it, I was getting distracted
again.

I tried again, talking faster than
ever. “Tristan’s in trouble. He needs Gerald and the rest to go
to—”

Lana interrupted me to speak to the
others. “She’s too upset. I can’t make head or tails of what’s
wrong.”

I squealed, jumping up and down. “Darn
it all!”

What I did next was out of bounds, but
I couldn’t see any other way. Tristan might be dying. Dead. For
good. “Sorry, Isabella,” I said before forcing my way into her
body.

We had a kind of metaphysical shoving
match before her spirit fell back, letting me commandeer her
physical form. The heaviness enclosing me took away some of my
frantic energy, and I came down from the brutal high.

Taylor’s expression couldn’t have been
more insulted. Whatever the outward appearance of my struggle for
supremacy for Isabella’s body looked like, she knew what I’d done
without me speaking a word. “Brandilynn, you don’t force yourself
on a channel.”

I could feel Isabella gathering her
resources to defy my usurpation. When she’d allowed me in before,
she’d put herself in a state that left her unaware of what was
going on. She was very aware now and didn’t appreciate sharing her
body one bit.

I related the situation in a rush.
“Tristan and Patricia are under attack at Sanderson Cottage.
They’ll die if you don’t get over there and help!”

Gerald impressed me by not hesitating
for a single moment. The big werepanther was off and running,
shouting to his fellow paras. “Everyone to Sanderson Cottage now!
Vamps and weres with me!”

The humans shrieked, cowering like
children as vampires shot into the sky like rockets and weres
shapeshifted into a menagerie of hogs, alligators, and even a
couple of bears that moved much faster than their pure animal
counterparts. The grounds of the old courthouse emptied of paras in
an instant.

Isabella had grown quiet at my
announcement, and I sensed her waiting patiently now for me to
finish my mission. God bless her for her kindness.

To Lana I asked, “Have you seen
Dan?”

The medium’s eyes widened. “He’s not
with you?”

I shook my head. “I have to go.
Isabella, I’m so sorry for my rudeness.”

As I fled the channel’s body, Taylor
said, “Under the circumstances, I think she’ll forgive this.” She
and Lana steadied Isabella as she regained control over
herself.

I didn’t wait around to find out if I’d
been pardoned. I fixed Sanderson Cottage in my mind and
left.

Chapter Nineteen

Possessing Isabella and transporting to
Sanderson Cottage took the edge off the energy overdose I’d pulled
from the news van. I felt more like my normal self again, proving
yet again how the Judge’s feeding had massively damaged my energy
retention.

That concern moved to the back of my
mind upon arrival. Security lights illuminated the front of the
dollhouse cottage along with the Indian Mound and the stately oaks
dripping moss on the front lawn. The illumination wasn’t nearly as
bright as the lit-for-TV scene back at the courthouse, but it more
than sufficed to bring the desperate battle into sharp
relief.

Tristan and Patricia were still on
their own, the cavalry I’d sent not having arrived yet. No trace of
humanity remained in their bluish-white faces. All red-rimmed black
eyes, switchblade claws and elongated fangs, the siblings stood
back to back, slashing and biting any foe that dared to venture
close enough. They were badly outnumbered, their skin and clothing
slashed to ribbons in places where the overwhelming two dozen weres
and vamps had scored on them, but neither gave an inch.

I noticed the wards floating in the air
around them, giving them some semblance of protection. Without
Erica to do her damage, Yelena’s magic remained in force here. As I
watched, a weregator tossed a container of gasoline at them, trying
to set the stage for burning the commissioner and his sister, much
as I had the Judge. The liquid deflected back, spraying several of
the traitors instead of the besieged vamps. Guns had already been
abandoned, and I saw one shifter downed in a pool of blood,
victimized by a ricocheted silver-infused bullet.

Even as relief to see the protection of
the wards washed over me, a young vampire darted in close enough to
tear a furrow into Tristan’s gut, leaving a flap of skin gaping
open. Tristan’s backhand caught him, flinging him into the sky. The
youth returned to the fray within seconds.

The wards helped, but the number of
attackers was too much. Tristan and Patricia would not be able to
fend off the Judge’s lackeys much longer. With half a dozen
vampires darting in the air overhead, flight was no option for the
pair either.

While I tried to figure out how I could
help the beleaguered siblings, a hand gripped my shoulder. I turned
to see my rugged Dan, his face a mixture of relief for my return
and terror for Tristan and Patricia. “Brandilynn! I’ve been looking
everywhere for you. Why is everyone attacking Tristan and
Patricia?”

I hurried to explain. “The Judge sent
them. He’s dead,” I added when Dan searched the chaotic scene for
the serial killer. “Tristan’s people are on the way, but I don’t
know how long it will take for them to get here. How can we
help?”

“Running water,” Dan said, and he
transported us both to the nearby waterfront. “Draw energy from the
water, and then do what you can to slow the attack.”

We pulled hard on the field emitted by
the swift current. Dan got us both back to the fight, and we did
what we could. It wasn’t much. Weres and vampires are tough
customers, and I quickly found yanking and punching didn’t faze
them a bit. After a few minutes, I concentrated my efforts on
tripping the attackers. That went a little better, though with most
of the weres transformed and on all fours, I wasted my energy in
many instances. The low-to-the-ground gators couldn’t be stopped by
any means I had at my disposal. Without corporeal help, Tristan and
Patricia didn’t have much longer.

I sank into dimness, my energy-bleeding
self fading fast when Tristan’s vampires hit the scene. Boy, you’ve
never heard such hellish shrieks as when vampire went against
vampire, rending and tearing. That left the weres to worry at
Tristan and Patricia, and I blanched to see the female vamp now on
her knees, her brother standing over her and grimly defending her
as best he could. A werehog got a mouthful of her thigh and tore a
chunk of meat from her. She shrieked, but she sounded more furious
than in pain.

I could only watch as Tristan’s loyal
vamps surrounded the embattled pair, taking on the traitors in
bloody conflict. Four of the enemy went down, but two of Tristan’s
faithful were torn to bits. It was the most awful thing I’d ever
witnessed and being powerless to help was a nightmare.

Five minutes that felt like five years
later, a scream like a banshee’s wail split the night. I was
half-frightened, half-thrilled to see a panther leap into the fray.
Gerald and his army of werehogs, bears, and gators arrived, and
they made short work of the traitors. Feeling almost insubstantial
enough to float, I drifted to where Tristan tended his sister as
his people finished off the grisly work. The paras took no
prisoners, and I saw several weres eating the enemy dead.
Gross.

The great black cat, as big as a pony,
joined Tristan and Patricia. The fur receded mostly, and Gerald’s
man shape emerged, glorious and muscular. “My lady,” he whispered,
going to his knees and offering his neck.

Patricia’s head darted forward, as
lethal as a rattlesnake, and I couldn’t help but cry out. Gerald
only sighed, his dark face blissful as she buried her face in his
neck, falling back to lie on Indian Mound. Patricia rutted
frantically against his thigh, satisfying the other hunger without
penetration. I had to look away despite the warped fascination that
wanted me to watch the missing chunk of her thigh re-knit itself
into existence.

“You don’t look so good,” Dan told me.
He pulled me away from the still-wild scene towards the water
again. The sound of police sirens warbled in the distance. The
causeway from Fulton Falls to Goose Creek Island was five miles
long across the marsh. Even the quickness of the paras wouldn’t
clean up the mess before they arrived, however. For once, I
rejoiced in not being alive. The coming investigation would have no
effect on me at all.

“The Judge made me into a wraith. I
can’t hold my energy.”

Dan sat me down on the edge of the
pier. I sucked power from the running water like a man would down a
beer after cutting an acre lawn with a push mower in the middle of
August.

Dan’s arm tightened around me. He
lifted me and planted me between his thighs so I could rest my back
against his chest, my head on his shoulder. “How did you kill
him?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you back at the
library, when we’re away from all this. And when it’s daylight. I
don’t want to talk about it in the dark.”

I drew and drew on the pulse of the
current. Natural sources of energy are harder to gather. There
wasn’t the heady rush I got from electronics, and it wasn’t as
potent as feeding on other ghosts. But it seemed cleaner. Saner.
Healthier.

The breeze brought me Tristan’s voice,
smooth as molasses, as if he hadn’t been fighting for his afterlife
minutes before. “Thank you, thank you all.”

Gerald had apparently given Patricia
what she needed, because he was the one who reported. “Brandilynn
warned us.”

“Brandilynn? How did she know we would
be attacked?” Suspicious vampire, that Tristan. That’s okay. I
don’t trust him after dark either.

Gerald again: “I didn’t stick around
long enough to find out. Why would these paras try to kill you,
boss?”

“I don’t know. The weres attacked as we
rose; the vampires came afterwards.”

Dan chuckled, his rumbling laughter as
healing as the water’s energy. “You gotta lotta ‘splaining to do,
Lucy.” He kissed my ear.