Wuthering Frights (24 page)

The next day at the ANC went by incredibly slowly, mainly because my mind was on other things, like the
Draoidheil
delivery, for instance. Along with my mind
,
Knight was also elsewhere. For the entire day, I was the only one on duty, aside from Sam.

Of course, she was still incredibly nosy about what had happened to me in the Netherworld and I was just as emphatic about putting the kibosh on any conversations leading in that direction. And that was no small feat because the topic was still uppermost in both of our minds. When we went to lunch, I noticed numerous pregnant pauses and uncomfortable silences than we'd ever experienced before. I was haunted by the fear that what Quillan had mentioned the previous evening about all my connections coming to an end might actually happen.

And as to where the hell Knight had been all day, I had no clue. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t call me to fill me in on his whereabouts, nor did I want him to. After our last interaction, it seemed no news was good news. At this point, it would be a wonder if he ever even spoke to me again. He'd been so pissed off about my watch, assuming it had been a gift from a would-be lover, that I didn’t think we’d be real chummy again anytime soon. Although I was curious where he was and what he was doing, it was actually a relief that he wasn't in the office. Especially when I considered how abrasive
he’d been
the last time I'd seen him. Yep, it seemed things were going to hell in a handbasket as far as my personal relationships were concerned. And worst of all, it didn't seem there was a damn thing I could do to prevent it.

Later that evening, Quillan called me just as he'd said he would. He told me to meet Christina and him at a deserted gas station down the street
from Baron's tattoo parlor
. Once I arrived, Quill outlined our plan so we could move forward where the
Draoidheil
was concerned. I now knew exactly where the shipments would be received, which smugglers would be handling each shipment and how many vials of
Draoidheil
filled each crate. I had a list of portal locations as well as ETAs when the
Draoidheil
was due to hit each site. Quill provided Christina and I with two vials each filled with white antidote pills.

As far as Melchior insisting on not getting the ANC involved, he
’d taken
extreme measures to ensure that no more information about the
Draoidheil
reached them. Once Melchior learned about the anonymous warning letter Knight had received, he instructed Quill to test both Christina's and my loyalty with a quick charm. It basically acted like a lie detector test to discern whether either one of us had written the letter. Of course, I passed with flying colors and Christina did too. Quill had taken the test earlier when Melchior first summoned him to the Netherworld to tell him the updated plan. Changes to the original arrangement included Melchior’s slashing our timeline of two weeks down to a mere three days (something which caused my blood pressure to sky rocket). And, to stifle Trey's ability to glimpse the future, Melchior employed the entire race of Dryads.

Dryads were the most sentient of all creatures. They had the ability to perceive the past, present and future more easily than any other creature in the Netherworld. And their power was strong enough to deflect the psychic abilities of other sensitives (Trey, for example). Dryads had never been allowed on Earth and the few that existed (last I'd heard, the count was nine, total) lived together in a Dryad convent
. I
t was known as "The Valley of the Trees," and supposedly located in the center of the Netherworld, deep in the Oslanian Forest. Dryads were all females and devoted themselves to the preservation of nature. They specifically presided over forests and the flora and fauna residing therein.

While growing up, my mother
had
told me many stories about the Dryads. They were the guardians of the trees and each Dryad had a special relationship to a particular tree, which they termed "the kinship." If one of these kinship trees were ever destroyed, the Dryad associated with that tree would also perish. And the death of a Dryad was not a good thing. Mom told me stories of famine, hurricanes and drought resulting from a Dryad's death. But the one particular associated with Dryad lore that struck me the most was that Dryads could never be removed from the forest. Doing so was extremely detrimental to their health. I wasn’t sure if that meant they would die, get sick, or just become unbearably irritable. At any rate, there weren't any forests in Splendor or the surrounding cities, so I figured I'd soon find out.

When I asked Quill about taking the Dryads out of their natural habitat and if they could quite possibly die in the process, he had no answer for me ... and what was more, he didn't seem like he was interested in furthering the
discussion. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the subject but I could also tell he'd convinced himself there was no way around it. All it proved to me was that my father placed far more importance in the successful marketing of the
Draoidheil
than he did on the lives of the Dryads. What was more, I had a feeling the Dryads were a good example of a magical ecosystem, and one I was worried about disrupting. One ecosystem’s failure could lead to the destruction of many others which could ultimately mean devastation for the Netherworld as a whole. Not that my greedy father would care. It seemed the only green that interested him was money.

And why did I think that? Because I now knew that this shipment of
Draoidheil
wasn't just another street potion trafficking. No, the
Draoidheil
represented far more than that. It was the vehicle by which my father planned to seal his definitive tyranny. His ultimate hope was to ensure that all creatures of the Netherworld would become dependent on the
Draoidheil
and, therefore, dependent on him for distribution. The Netherworld creatures would then become like a race of automatons, all obeying the whims of one man.

That was why Melchior didn't want the
Draoidheil
to fall into the hands of the ANC.  He couldn’t afford to let the addictive power of the
Draoidheil
be known. As Regulators, if we busted a shipment of an unknown potion, the first thing we would do was send the potion to a lab in order to trace all of its components. In doing so, we could have the means to manufacture an antidote to the
Draoidheil
ourselves, something that
would throw
a monkey wrench into Melchior's campaign.

Fearing the ANC would discover his plans, Melchior made certain to dot all of his i's and cross all of his t's. Not only were Dryads scheduled to be present at each shipment station, thereby
scrambling the psychic reception of
any other sensitives, but Melchior also hired witches. They were tasked with charming each of the potion deliveries prior to the shipment to Earth. In other words, as soon as the
Draoidheil
came through the portal, and was received on the other end, one of the vials would detonate. The powder would blast out into the air, a wind of charmed intoxication suddenly spreading the
Draoidheil
far and wide. Of course, anyone working for Melchior would have already taken the antidote, leaving only the staff of the ANC to fall under its influence. And if that happened, the Regulators would be about as threatening as infants.

Given the previous example, it would only be a matter of weeks before all the creatures of the Netherworld came into contact with the
Draoidheil
and fell under its addictive power. Why was I so certain of this? Because one of the very convenient facts about the
Draoidheil
(which my father had failed to report when he first introduced us to it) was that there was a trigger in the potion. It made the person under its influence feel magnanimous and want to share his or her feelings of bliss with someone else. Consequently, the addicts would spread the drug themselves, addicting one creature at a time. And the only reason I'd found that out was because Quill had told me.

Now fully aware of my father's finely orchestrated and well-planned strategy, you can imagine how nervous I was about it actually succeeding. As far as I was concerned, it couldn't succeed ... I couldn't allow it to happen because it would destroy the balance between the Earth and the Netherworld as well as the lifestyle to which we were accustomed.

After Quill finished briefing us on what was supposed to happen and we wore him out with our questions, he adjourned the meeting. I waited until Christina left before asking Quill how he could follow my father's plan in good conscience, knowing what it would mean for all Netherworld creatures.

I don't know what I expected from him, considering my father had basically browbeaten him into submission a long time ago, but still, I expected more than I received. All I got from Quill was his acknowledgement that my father's plan would certainly
enable his
absolute tyranny and supremacy over the Netherworld. But when Quill discussed the subject, there was no fear in his eyes. Actually, I hadn't seen anything in his eyes, but a hollow void, a deep chasm, which made me realize that Quill had given up. And he’d done so years ago. There was no fight left in him. The fires of hope that burn in each and every one of us were nothing but smoldering embers in Quill, mere wisps of smoke, flapping their white flags of surrender. With no resistance left in him, he was useless to me.

The thought saddened me because I always thought of Quillan as a smart, strong person. He'd been a fair and good boss (well, at least until I caught him with his hand in the illegal potions jar). Now he was just a weak, vacillating, ineffective toady to my father. But having said all that, I felt sorry for him, more than ever before. I mean, despite the shit I was in, at least, I still had hope … And the ability to challenge Melchior’s agenda. But as for Quill, he wasn't strong enough to support me anymore. No, he was a lame duck. And I couldn’t rely on a lame duck.

As far as who could support me, Knight was the first person to pop into my head. Of course, I couldn't involve him in any way, knowing my father still ransomed his life over my head. And, furthermore, I'd have to figure out a way to protect Knight if I was going to breach my agreement with my father. And as far as I knew, I had to breach that agreement—I had no other choice.

With Knight out of the picture, there was only one other person I could turn to, one person with the position and moral
ity to help me—Caressa Brandenbu
rg.

For the remainder of my evening, I schemed and plotted until an idea began to construct itself in my mind, laying the building blocks of a solid foundation. Now that I had a fairly decent plan in place, it was time to get to work. The unfortunate part of my plan was that I couldn't use magic for any of it. I was too afraid that whatever I magicked for myself wouldn't work in the Netherworld, where my magic was ineffectual. Instead, I relied on commonplace conveniences such as the Rite Aid drugstore right around the corner.

Needing to “un-Dulcify” myself, I purchased the darkest semi-permanent hair dye I could find
, even though I was incredibly bummed to have to use it
. But c’est la vie ... Sometimes you have to sacrifice your naturally gorgeous hair in order to save the Netherworld.

Once I located the hair dye, my thoughts turned to makeup. I found the lightest liquid makeup I could in the Cover Girl aisle, along with four compacts of extra loud eye shadow, with colors ranging from fuchsia to electric blue, a bright red lip liner and matching lipstick, and a coral pink blush. The idea was to make myself look as unlike myself as possible. I was going for camouflage, disguise and incognito. I was going for Cyndi Lauper meets Boy George with a bit of RuPaul thrown in for good measure.

When I got home, I quickly dyed my hair. While it was wrapped up in a towel on top of my head, I searched through my closet for my white jeans and a white T-shirt. Once I located them both, I left the jeans on my bed and carried the v-necked T-shirt into the living room. I pulled out the ironing board and the iron, plugged it in and set it for “high steam.” Then I ransacked the first two drawers beside my kitchen sink until I found the iron-on alphabet decals I'd purchased for Halloween last year when Sam and I had dressed up like Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum.