Trill

Chapter 1-3

“He's the one who bit me twenty-seven nights ago, so you can thank him for my need to howl at the full moon.”

“Ah, that's right. You did mention him once in passing.”

“Right. I did.”

Several of the men had dismounted from their Harleys, and now stood waiting along with the women, who stood off to the side in a small clique, smoking and glaring at us as if we were the slime balls.

One individual stood out from the rest. His brown-to-gold hair was arranged into the longest dreadlocks—the thick-as-snakes kind—I'd ever seen, trailing down beyond his studded belt, the lengths moving slightly in the breeze, and nearly as long as Dante's tresses, but not as beautiful. He wore a black bandanna around his head that brandished a white skull. Gold earrings also boasted skulls, as did a large, intricate, bronze belt buckle. I figured this must be their emblem because I saw it repeated on headgear, jackets, jewelry, and tattoos throughout the rest of the gang. Black leather driving gloves covered his hands. He wore tight-fitting jeans strategically worn or torn in just the right spots to induce lust from a female admirer. I had no trouble in the predawn light noticing the tats that covered his bare arms, as well as portions of his neck and where the leather vest didn't cover on his stomach and chest.

Dante strode toward the dreadlocked leader, while I stood a few feet behind him. I sensed Heath and Leif come up around our car and angled in to stand like two guards in front of me, and right behind Dante. The women of the group ogled both of them shamelessly. Vampires naturally send pheromones into the air, and any human of the opposite s*x within a twenty-foot radius couldn't resist the sudden seduction. I was a little surprised that Were women could be overwhelmed by vampire pheromones, but I was relatively new to all this and was still at the learning stage.

“What can we help you with?” Dante asked, and his voice, though spoken at a normal tone, resonated over the motorcycles' rumblings.

Dreadlock's fist shot up, and the Harley engines stopped. Now morning silence slipped into the gap. I could hear birdsong, and geese cackling over on the ponds nearby. The crows flying overhead with their harsh calls threw a deeper note of dread into me.

“We only want some answers,” Dreadlocks announced.

“What's the question?” Dante wasn't going to play with these guys, I could feel his impatience with the posturing and threats that began right away.

“One of our pack members is missing. He's not in any local jails—or hospitals. But we understand a clairvoyant lives here.”

Dante didn't look back at me. I was the only clairvoyant here.

“You want this clairvoyant to tell you where this person is?” Dante asked.

Dreadlocks sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring, gaze going slightly skyward, and to the side. After a few seconds, he said, “I don't wanna talk to you, Shifter. I wanna talk to the lady there. It's her scent that's strong everywhere around here.” His eyes narrowed when he looked at Dante, and then opened wider when they darted to me. He didn't move so much as shifted his weight and shoved his thumbs into his pockets. The effect was startling. He'd gone from confrontational to cool and aloof in two seconds flat.

“You're the one who lives here,” he said to me. It wasn't a question. “My name is Hobart. I'd like to know who I'm addressing.” His tone was respectful, he spoke clearly, and I detected an intelligent, if not cunning, mind. This was only the second time I'd encountered a full-blooded Werewolf.

Aside from feeling as if my heart had dropped clean out of my chest, I was actually holding up. I cleared my throat and said, “My name is Sabrina. Sabrina Strong.” Dante had moved slightly to my left so that I could speak to this Hobart character.

Hobart smiled, and I was amazed to see large white teeth with one of the front ones capped with gold. The smile made him look almost pleasant, but you somehow knew you couldn't trust it. The cunning behind it spoke volumes.

Hobart's one hand rested on the hilt of a big knife at his hip—something I'd overlooked, but I was certain Dante had not. The twins both drifted in a little closer. They were doing their vampire thing, as if to show that they weren't simply window dressing and that they would fight tooth and nail for me. I'd seen them fight other vampires once. I honestly didn't want to see a vampire tear a Were apart on my front lawn, and have to worry about explaining it to the cops.

“You have vampires who protect you?” Hobart asked, taking in my companions.

“I guess I do.” I didn't know if that impressed him, or made him fear me, or what.

“I've come to see you, Sabrina Strong,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Because you're the clairvoyant I've heard so much about.”

“Okay. So I am,” I said, wondering how he'd heard about me, and, most of all, how he found out where I lived. I didn't know how he, a total stranger, would know that I had second sight. Had someone written my name and number in some men's john? Clairvoyant, cheap, call… I didn't go around blabbing it, and I hadn't done any reads for anyone. Except in front of Jeanie Woodbine's mother.

“I'm hopin' you can tell us what we want to know,” he added, and turned to look back at his pack members. They all made noises of agreement. One fairly large, bald guy with tattoos up and down his beefy arms was the loudest on this. I didn't like the attitude that they could make me do a read.

“You want to know where Frank Lundeen is?” I said.

They looked stunned that I knew what they wanted. Of course, I knew what they wanted to ask me. Duh.

“That's right,” Hobart said his smile deepening as he took in the other members. I could tell that his pals had not been believers a few minutes ago.

A slight weight on my feet made me look down, at the same time I scuffled back about three inches across the gravel. A large black and white cat with longish fur had settled its haunches on my foot. Its tail was completely black, and looked like a duster, it had two large black spots on its sides and odd markings on the face—his nose was completely black, and black spots above the eyes at the base of the ears, and below his chin made an odd cut-out face, if you squinted. Its golden-green eyes gazed up at me, and he meowed hoarsely. It was one of Mrs. Bench's cats from across the road. Focused on what was going on around me, I couldn't begin to guess why it was here. Then, I saw how this was going to end. The quick vision came to me as the cat made himself comfortable on my feet.

“I don't know where he went,” I said. Which was true, I didn't. I would need an object of his to use, but I simply didn't do that sort of read for just anyone at the drop of a hat.

The cat stood and strode forward toward the house, letting out a long meow, as if to tell me to follow.

Feeling imbued with strength and courage, I stepped forward, straight toward Hobart, who was standing in front of my front porch, as if to block me from getting to it. Dante took my hand, the twins strode behind us, side-by-side, and I knew as long as the large cat led us through the group, these Werewolves couldn't touch us. In fact, as the white cat moved forward, Hobart flinched suddenly, and had to step aside, almost as if the cat had pushed him. He gave it a startled look, and then glanced up at us.

Dante's head kept swinging from side to side, watching the other members of the gang, who also were backing up as though some invisible hand was pushing them back. As we strode between them, I heard booted feet shuffle in the gravel, oaths spewed left and right—some of the vilest things I'd ever heard, but they couldn't move toward us.

I looked back as we made it through the horde, and passed the women who sneered and yelled obscenities at us. It was all they could do. Glancing back, I saw Hobart with his one hand up. No doubt his one motion was all that kept the others from pouncing, or pulling a weapon on us. Backpedaling, facing the gang, Heath and Leif made skipping steps while keeping up with us.

We made the porch. Pausing at the door, I turned and made eye contact with Hobart. “You bring me something of Lundeen's, and then maybe I'll take a read for you.” That was my final word on the subject. “Have a good day.”

I dug my key out and plugged it into the lock. In a few seconds, we were inside. I gave out an exhalation of relief as I shut and re-locked the door quickly. Heart thundering, I pressed my back against the door.

“Luv, that was the most exciting time I've had in a fortnight,” Leif said.

“Oi, did you see their faces? It was like—like magic!” Heath added.

“It was magic,” I said as I bent to pet the white cat's head and smooth my hand over his back as he arched himself against my legs. He made a soft meow as it looked up at me.

“I'd have to agree,” Dante said. “Who's your friend?”

I was gazing down at the cat as the Harleys' engines fired up with loud, piston cracking sounds. I had to cover my ears. Until they all drove away, I couldn't speak and be heard.

Finally, I said, “My neighbor, Mrs. Bench's cat. She lives across the road there.” I pointed in the general direction.

“Did you know she was a witch?” Dante asked.

“Uh, yeah.” I gave him a sheepish look. I was supposed to have gone to see her. She'd asked me at my father's funeral to stop by and see her, and said that it was essential, but I'd put it off. I knew that once I saw her, my life would change, more than it had changed in the past month.

“We'd love to stay and discuss what just happened, but…” Leif trailed off with his eyes half-lidded.

Heath yawned deeply.

“Oh, no. I understand, you guys go on up. You know the way.” No sooner had I said that, the two vampires rushed to the middle door of three, threw it open, and galloped up the wooden stairs—the door closed on its own (a trick I realized the vampire could use from time to time). We could trace their footfalls trotting down the hall above us. The door to the bedroom made a whining creak, and then slammed shut. I imagined their shoving the lock into place and falling into their beds. My old bedroom, at the end of the stairs, was now an unused space until I figured out what I could do with it. I'd turned my father's old, downstairs office into my new bedroom. It was a bigger room, and I'd wanted to have a bedroom downstairs ever since my father's death several months ago. Finally, I'd done it. I didn't want to move the old furniture downstairs, so I'd bought a new bedroom set with some of the bonus money I'd gotten from Tremayne for the work I'd done for him. It had been satisfying using my clairvoyant abilities and being paid exceedingly well for telling him who had killed his life mate, Letitia.

Arms folded, Dante said, “He isn't a normal cat.” We both eyed the cat. His face reminded me of a clown's face.

“Really?” I said, frowning lightly. “What is he, then?”

“I'm not sure.”

The cat looked up at Dante, and as if sensing, or actually understanding what he'd said, the cat padded to the door and meowed softly.

“I think he wants out.”

“Of course. He's done his job, and now he's going home for his well-deserved reward. Let him out.”

I did. We both stood in the open doorway and watched the cat trot all the way down my drive, cross the road and disappear into Mrs. Bench's yard. I lost sight of him when he skittered up the steps of her old brown brick porch. I figured a bowl of milk was awaiting him in the kitchen.

“I don't know about you, but I'm beat,” I said as I shut and relocked the door again.

“You want to shower first?” he asked.

Cocking my hip, I threw him a bitchy look and crossed my arms. I hated that he would actually shove the fact that we were no longer intimate in my face. We hadn't been intimate in a fortnight, nor had he stayed here, because the temptation would be too much for him.

Apparently, he was too tired to get my silent, malevolent stare, which should have melted him. Realizing I was holding my breath, I let it out. “Go ahead. I'll use the one upstairs,” I relented. I was too tired to be bitchy.

“No. You look beat. I'll use that one, you use the downstairs one.”

I opened my mouth to argue, and his finger came up to tap me on the nose. “I insist. I'll take the couch.” He swung away, the single braid whipping with his movement.

“That's where I was going to put you, anyway!” I let go the steam building up in me.

He chuckled as he opened the door and chugged up the stairs.

Son of a b***h!