Wuthering Frights

  "Melchior said there'd be fifty cases comin' through the loadin' docks," Baron said finally, his manner now strictly business. And when he said “the loading docks,” I figured he meant the Yalkemouth would be traveling by way of portal from the Netherworld to Splendor, arriving the same way Quill and I had.

  "And the dupe?" Quillan asked.

  "There'll be five cases comin' through on a ship to the far west of the loadin' docks," Baron answered.

  And now everything made sense. Melchior was sending out a decoy, which was meant for the ANC to find and bust. The five cases of Yalkemouth would be the ANC's bust, meanwhile the fifty cases from the Netherworld would slip in unnoticed.

  "And I'm going to bust the dupe?" I finished hoarsely, figuring out where this was going.

  Baron glanced over at me and nodded, his eyes still on mine rather than my chest. Thank Hades. "You an' your ANC buddies can fuck around with bustin' Horatio and the five cases. You just keep them outta my bidness, got it?"

  Horatio apparently was the hairy were sitting beside Baron because, at the mention of his name, he started grumbling something about getting beaten up again. Baron gave him a discouraging look and he shut up. And, really, he had nothing to worry about. Once we busted and imprisoned him, he'd merely be deported to the Netherworld where he'd probably just have to lay low for a few weeks. After that, Melchior would see to it that he was released to return to the crime ring. Basically it was like a revolving door, really just a hop, skip and a jump away from a walk in the park.

  "What's the name of the ship?" I asked, realizing that was a necessary detail.

  "It's a tanker called Alice," Baron finished. "It'll be pullin' in at one a.m. an' there ain't gonna be no more ships tonight, so you can't fuck it up."

  As if I was going to fuck it up in the first place. I exhaled a frustrated sigh when something suddenly occurred to me. "How are you going to keep Trey from picking up on what's really going on?"

  Trey could see glimpses of the future, his super power in the eyes of the ANC. Although half the time his gift couldn't delineate times or dates, or even locations, Trey's abilities were still an unknown that could seriously threaten the well-being of this plan. I mean, the last thing we needed was for Trey to get an inkling about the fifty cases of Yalkemouth on the opposite end of the loading docks. That would blow the plan all to hell.

  Baron waved me away with an unimpressed hand. "Melchior already took care of it."

  I glanced at Quill with a question in my eyes. "What does that mean?"

  Quill smiled down at me. "Melchior knows about Trey's gift. He has a witch in the Netherworld who magicks all the narcotic shipments to ensure there isn't any residue on them that Trey could pick up on."

  I just nodded and thought this whole thing had been so well choreographed, so staged. What really struck me was that it had been this way for years. The entire time Quillan had been the head of the ANC in Splendor, this had been going on underneath my nose and I'd had no clue.

  "You have access to the vault?" Horatio asked me.

  Baron turned his full attention on me, and realizing what this meant, I immediately shook my head. "The only person who has access to the vault is Knight," I said staunchly. The only tip off I'd ever received that something unsavory was happening in the ANC was when I'd finagled my way into the vault. It was being used to warehouse the illegal potions we Regulators confiscated. Every week, cauldrons from the Netherworld would arrive, the sole purpose to destroy all the confiscated potions. When I broke into the vault (well, broke into it is a bit harsh, seeing as how Knight granted me permission), I immediately noticed that none of the potions had been destroyed at all. Later, I learned that Quill was redistributing them on the black market, something Baron was obviously interested in resuscitating—at least judging by the expression of curiosity in his eyes.

  "Absolutely not," I reiterated, shaking my head. "I'd be found out in a second."

  "She's right," Quill said as he viewed the room, as if to ensure that everyone assembled understood that this wasn't a good idea. "Vander's the only one with access. It would be too suspicious."

  I stood up, after deciding I'd had enough. "So one a.m. tonight, Alice the tanker ship on the west end loading docks. Anything else?"

  Baron glared at me as if he were annoyed that I was done with our little rendezvous since he hadn't announced "meeting adjourned." When he didn't say anything else, I pushed my chair out from underneath the table and started for the door, Quillan right behind me. "See you in three hours," I said.

  "This is your night ta prove yourself, O'Neil," Baron called out to my exiting figure. I paused with my hand on the doorknob.

  I turned around to face him and smiled assuredly. "It's in my back pocket, asshole," I said with as much disdain as I could muster before showing myself out.

  "Watch it, Dulce," Quill said and sighed heavily.

  I glanced up at him, unfazed. "What? He is an asshole."

  "You know his temper."

  "Yeah and now he can get well acquainted with mine."

  Once freed from the confines of Ink, I approached my Suzuki quickly, and noticed an electric blue sports car, complete with black stripes on either side, parked beside it. Quillan beeped it unlocked and I glanced over at him as I wrestled with my helmet.

  "Are you okay?" Quill asked as he faced me with concern in his eyes. I wasn't sure if he was referring to my emotional sanity or my close encounter with Baron. Maybe both.

  "I'm fine," I answered tersely, "I just want to go home." I turned the key in the ignition only to hear it click a few times. I turned the key again and nothing. The engine was dead. "Son of a fucking bitch!" I yelled and slammed my palm against the tank. Quillan walked over and took the key from me and motioning me aside, straddled the bike as he inspected it and attempted to start it himself.

  "It's dead," he announced, standing up and eyeing me sadly. "I think it's the starter."

  "You've gotta be kidding," I grumbled and shook my head like I couldn't believe it. Talk about shitty timing!

  "I'll take you home," Quillan said as I tore off my helmet and felt like I wanted to cry.

  "What am I going to do with this?" I asked, meaning that I didn't want to be tied to Ink in any way, shape or form; and everyone at the ANC knew what I drove. It wasn't any stretch of the imagination at all to think that Knight, Trey or anyone else from the ANC might happen to do a drive-by to make sure Baron was on the up and up. Seeing my motorcycle in the parking lot was not a good thing.

  "The bike is done, Dulce," Quillan said in a grounded tone, as if he were afraid I was super attached to it or something. "Baron has guys who can strip it and sell the parts. I'll let him know on the way to your house."

  I nodded and approached Quillan's car, scanning it quizzically. "Is this a Mustang?" I asked, finding some of the lines fairly reminiscent of the iconic Ford.

  "2013 Shelby GT 500," he answered with obvious pride.

  I gave him a raised brow as I opened the door and seated myself. "Mustang?" I asked again once he was within earshot.

  He chuckled and helped himself into the driver's seat. "Mustang," he answered.

  I secured my seatbelt and then sighed. "I guess it beats a 1961 Galaxy Town Victoria."

  ###

  I walked in my front door at a little past ten p.m. Locking it behind me, I immediately noticed my answering machine blinking red. From the looks of it, I had two messages. I checked my cell phone lying beside it and lifting it up, saw that it also had messages. Probably Sam and Dia wondering what in the hell had happened to me while I'd been in the Netherworld. Even though I knew I needed to face them at some point, I just couldn't bring myself to do it now. Not after the crappy evening I'd just endured. But what was even scarier was that there was something inside me that wanted to sever all ties to my old life, something that wanted to invalidate any and all associations with my friends because I realized I was now a different person. Even worse, knowing me could be detrimental
to their wellbeing. I mean, who knew what sorts of power trips Melchior could hold over my head now? He already had Knight for insurance, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine Sam or Dia could be next. Yep, my father had me exactly where he wanted me, and that was a desperate place to be.

  Trying to avoid the naked truth in my thoughts, I searched the fridge for something to eat, but it was just as bare as it had been the last time I'd opened it when Knight had visited after his release from the Netherworld.

  Knight ... just the image of him filled my gut with a deep-rooted sorrow, and a tremor that rattled me. I felt like I’d soon cave into a puddle of jelly.

  At the sound of my doorbell, I pulled myself together, forced myself to put on my poker face and see why the hell someone was visiting so late. The fact that my alone time was now nonexistent was really getting old. I huffed over to the front door, expecting to find Quill or Baron and checked the peephole, instantly recognizing Bram. A sense of guilt washed over me as I remembered I'd never paid Bram a visit to tell him I was okay. And that was bad—especially after he'd acted as my guide and protector in the Netherworld.

  With a sheepish smile, I pulled the door open and found the dashing vampire glaring at me. "Then it is true?" he asked, pushing past me and showing himself into my living room.

  "What's true?" I asked as I closed the door behind us. I was actually happy to see Bram. Somehow, along the course of our Netherworld adventure, I'd actually grown fond of the vampire. If nothing else, he was definitely amusing.

  "That you have escaped the Netherworld and returned to Splendor." With his raised brows and frown, he looked pissed off. There was something livid in his eyes, which surprised me. I mean, even though it wasn't exactly polite that I'd failed to inform him that I was back, I didn't imagine he'd be this bent out of shape.

  "Oh, yeah, it's true." I took a deep breath and caught his eye. "About that, I, uh, had been meaning to come by and tell you."

  "And yet it appears you did not find the time?" he chided, crossing his arms against his chest.

  That was basically the short of it, but it wasn't like I could tell Bram exactly what I'd been up to. Yes, I'd never painted Bram as a "good guy," but I also was fairly convinced he was nowhere near the likes of a Baron or even my father. Nope, Bram basically ran in his own circle.

  "I'm sorry, Bram," I started, shaking my head, not really knowing what I could say to lessen the blow of my obvious bad manners.

  "Perhaps I was not important enough?" he pouted. Jeez, he was really wringing everything he could out of this. But, I guess I deserved it.

  "I really was meaning to come tell you," I said in as sincere a voice as I could. "I feel really terrible about it, I mean it."

  "I see," he grumbled but I could tell his mood was lightening. Note to self: apparently Bram likes panderers.

  "How did you find out that I was back, anyway?" I asked, trying to change the subject because there was only so much ass-kissing I was prepared to do. And where Bram was concerned, I'd already reached my limit.

  "I make the goings on in Splendor my business, sweet," he answered and when he called me by my pet name, I guessed he was well on his way to forgiving me. Forgiving me was important because I wanted to keep Bram on my good side. He wasn't the type of person to have as an enemy. Nope, he was powerful. Just how powerful, though, I wasn't sure, but that's exactly what I intended to find out.

  "And I was quite concerned with your whereabouts," he continued, inspecting his fingernails as he spoke. "It has been the only subject to occupy my mind."

  "I'm sorry," I said again, trying to belabor the point. "I really am, Bram."

  He said nothing for a few seconds, just watched me as if to gauge how sincere I was. And the truth of the matter was that I was sincere—I did feel bad about it.

  Finally, he dropped his stern expression and smiled handsomely. "Apology accepted."

  And now it was time to move on to more important topics. It was time to learn just how involved Bram was with the Netherworld. I cleared my throat and thought about the best way to approach him, as well as what my chances were of getting some straight answers out of him. Figuring there really was no "right" approach, I just opted for friendly. "Have a seat," I said, motioning to my couch.

  Bram looked surprised at first, but quickly acquiesced and seated himself on the far end of the sofa. He eyed me curiously, as if wondering why I'd invited him to stay. Well, he was about to find out.

  "Bram, I have questions for you," I started and sat down in a chair beside him. I pulled it out so we were facing one another.

  "As I have questions for you, sweet."

  It didn't surprise me to know he'd have questions for me. Bram was always nosy. "I know you're curious as to how I got home," I began, searching for a plausible excuse. Remembering that I'd nearly blown my cover with Knight regarding my story about Caressa and the portal, I decided to learn from past mistakes.

  "Quite so," the vampire replied; and when I didn't respond immediately, he prodded. "Go on."

  "I escaped," I said simply.

  "Escaped?" he repeated dubiously.

  "I overpowered Caressa and tried to talk Judge Thorne into taking me back into custody in exchange for Knight's life," I spewed out, nearly tripping over the lie.

  Bram said nothing, but eyed me suspiciously as if he found it hard to believe. "And yet the Loki has returned, as have you."

  I nodded, reminding myself to stick to my story. "Judge Thorne wouldn't listen to me and decreed that I be escorted to the portal by one of his guards." I took a deep breath. "As to why Knight was released, I don't know."

  "I see."

  I shrugged, thinking I needed to play up my surprise a bit more. "I mean, I thought for sure he was never going to get out."

  "It is quite the riddle, is it not?" Bram asked and then smiled in an off-putting sort of way.

  "It is," I agreed and even nodded to reaffirm my words.

  "And you have been reinstated in your position at the ANC?" he continued. Bram was definitely at the top of the gossip totem pole. He always had been, though, which was why I found him so useful in my position as Regulator. He got the inside scoops before anyone else did.

  "You're impressive, I'll give you that," I said softly and then smiled at him.

  "Why did you insist on becoming a Regulator again?" he asked, his tone slightly more casual, but I knew his indifference was merely an act—Bram wanted to know what was going on. He made it his business to know the ins and outs of ANC business.

  "I missed it," I answered nonchalantly before turning to the subject of my own questions. "How high do you rank in the Netherworld pecking order?"

  Bram smiled, revealing his fangs, clearly appreciative of the question and even more clearly impressed with himself. "High." He narrowed his eyes on me. "Why was the Loki truly released?"

  I swallowed hard. "I don't know," I bluffed. "Are you familiar with the head of the Netherworld?"

  Bram's smile dropped. "Yes."

  I felt my heartbeat quicken. "How familiar?"

  "Familiar enough." He paused a moment or two before that debonair smile was back in full effect. "Are you familiar with the head of the Netherworld?"

  "No." I paused to catch my breath, completely aware that he was testing me, that he knew more than he was letting on. "Are you involved with his affairs?"

  "No," he answered quickly. Maybe too quickly. "Are you involved with his affairs?"

  My heart thundered through my ears, sounding like waves crashing against rocks. I almost felt like I was going to pass out. "No."

  "Are you aware that he shares the same last name with you?" Bram asked in a casual, bored tone.

  I swallowed hard. "There are many people with the last name O'Neil," I said simply, even adding a shrug, trying to portray the image of someone bored, apathetic and uninterested.

  "Very true," he answered noncommittally.

  "Why were the prison guards so frightened of you, Bram, and why
do you have your own portal entrance to the Netherworld?"

  He smiled, long and languidly. "Why do you share the same last name as the Head of the Netherworld? And why was the Loki returned when Melchior had him exactly where he wanted him?"

  I didn't say anything for four seconds and I'm sure I was wearing my anxiety. Bram smiled even more broadly.

  "It seems we are at a standstill, Dulcie, sweet."

  Six

  Somehow Bram knew Melchior was related to me and I was pretty sure it wasn't just a guess based on the similarity of our last names. Since Bram hadn't said anything for the last few seconds, he was right—we were at a standstill.

  "How did you know?" I asked finally. My voice sounded hoarse as I realized I'd been first to show my hand.

  Bram smiled slightly, like he was pleased I'd finally acknowledged my familial relationship to Melchior. I watched as he relaxed against my couch and sighed dramatically. "I assumed from the moment I met you, sweet."

  The word "assumed" held a lot of weight because it implied that Bram didn't know I was related to Melchior. And I must say I was relieved he hadn't been in the know—I mean, it's not exactly a good feeling when you realize everyone around you knows more about your life than you do.

  "Well, he's my father," I finished, my jaw tight and my tone betraying the fact that I wasn't happy about it.

  "Ah, I see," Bram said, nodding thoughtfully. "And it seems you just learned this?"

  It was my turn to nod. "Yep."

  "And your story regarding the escape from Caressa?" he pried, eyeing me with a drawn brow as if he knew I hadn't exactly been telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

  I inhaled deeply and exhaled just as deeply. "It wasn't true."

  Bram's left brow continued to reach for the ceiling but, otherwise, his countenance remained unchanged—the same expectant, yet unconcerned look he tried so hard to achieve. "And what is the truth?"

  "Before we get into this dog and pony show," I started, my voice suddenly sounding bossy and harsh, "this has to be a quid pro quo, Bram. If I'm going to spill the contents of my diary to you, I expect the same in return."