Wuthering Frights (Dulcie O'Neil)

  "I'll relay the information," Quill said, checking his watch. "I guess we're adjourned until then." Then he addressed both of us. "Tomorrow night?"

  "If we need to figure this out in less than two weeks, yeah, tomorrow night," I answered begrudgingly as we started for the entrance of the building that led out to the parking lot.

  The cold night air assaulted my cheek like a slap as I stepped into the moonlight, being careful not to trip over an old cement pylon.

  "Have a good night," Christina said as she started for her Wrangler. "See you both tomorrow night."

  "I'll call you tomorrow afternoon with a time," Quill answered, waving good-bye to her.

  "Sounds good," she called back. "’Night, Dulcie."

  "’Night," I said and reached into my pocket for the keys to the Mercedes as Quill and I watched her start the Wrangler and then drive away.

  I glanced at Quill and sighed. "Let me guess, you need a ride home?"

  He smiled apologetically. "Sorry to be an inconvenience, but someone had to get the Mercedes here."

  "Yeah, yeah," I said as I unlocked the driver's door. Locating the button to unlock all the doors, I clicked it. Quill walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, seating himself as I did the same.

  "Well, he definitely set you up," he said, sliding his hand across the tan leather interior. "This is one of the nicer rides I've been in and it drives like a dream."

  I frowned at him, uninterested in the Mercedes for the moment. "I guess it beats the Ford Galaxy," I said absentmindedly.

  "Uh, yeah," Quill answered as I turned the key in the ignition and felt the car hum beneath me. I buckled my seatbelt and put it in drive as I eyed my passenger.

  "Where to?"

  "South side of Splendor, Citrus Glen area."

  I'd known that Quill had had to move after we discovered he was a potions importer, but I never knew where he moved to. Citrus Glen was one of the nicer areas in Splendor—a rural, but upscale area. "Nice," I said as I eyed the rearview mirror to make sure I wasn't going to hit anything while backing up.

  "It's quiet," he answered indifferently and I could feel the penetration of his eyes on me. I glanced at him as he looked away, trying to pretend like he hadn't been staring at me.

  I started back down the street that would take us away from the loading docks. Even though I was more than exhausted, the quiet in the car made me feel uncomfortable. "How come you never met Christina in any of your dealings with my father?" I asked as another thought occurred to me. "She said she's been working with Melchior for six years."

  Quill shrugged. "Melchior has people all over the place who I don't know about."

  I nodded, surprised by his answer, but accepting it at the same time. "Did you know she isn't in the ANC database at all?"

  He nodded. "Lots of Melchior's people aren't."

  "I guess that makes sense too," I said, stopping as the light turned red.

  "Dulcie," Quillan started. He paused, as if there was something heavy on his mind and he was having difficulty finding exactly the right words. "I don't know if you and Vander were in a relationship, but I hope you realize it's going to have to end. Most of your connections will."

  I was surprised by the subject change and felt a deep sadness inside at the thought of Knight and how our relationship had dissolved into something that barely even resembled a friendship. "Most of my connections will?" I repeated, swallowing hard as I thought about it. "Even my friendship with Trey, Dia and ... Sam?"

  "Inevitably, they all do," he said, sounding resigned and tired.

  I couldn't think about my relationship with Sam falling apart. It was just too painful to dwell on. "Things between Knight and me are already done," I said hollowly. "I guess you could say I had foresight."

  Quillan nodded. "I hope you understand it's for the best."

  My lips were tight. "I do."

  A few minutes later, we pulled onto Peach Tree Drive and Quillan pointed to a two-story, Spanish-styled home.

  "This is me," he said simply.

  I pulled over and parked in front of his house, impressed with the large olive trees that graced the walkway up to the dark oak front door.

  "Looks like you're doing well," I said with a raised brow and a smirk.

  He didn't say anything, but opened the car door and stepped out. Then he leaned over, presumably to say good night. "Do you want to come in and see the place?"

  I really didn't want to, but his eyes were hopeful and I guess I didn't want to disappoint him. I nodded and turned off the engine, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind me. The moonlight reflected off his blond hair, making him look like some sort of angel. I met him on the sidewalk and then followed him up the brick pathway to his front door. He took a few seconds to unlock it and then stepped inside, turning on the lights.

  I looked around, walking from the entryway into the living room, and was pretty impressed with the wide open space. The Spanish tiled floors and exposed beams in the ceiling definitely lent a California feel to the house. The coffee table and entertainment center were made of what looked like a richly stained pine and Quill's large sofas were slip-covered in white. His living room looked like something out of a magazine.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned around, about to tell him how much I liked his house, but was completely stunned when I found him standing directly in front of me. Before I could react, his mouth was on mine, his hands in my hair. I was too shocked to respond for a second or two. But once I regained my wits, I pushed away from him, outrage billowing through me.

  "What the fu …" I started, but he interrupted me.

  "I'm sorry," he said, frowning with shame. "I don't ... I don't know why I did that. It just ... it just felt like old times again, Dulce."

  I shook my head and took a few steps away from him. "Well, it's not old times and it never will be old times again," I sighed, rubbing my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to be in my bed, asleep. "I have to go."

  "Dulcie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

  I refused to look at him and, instead, started for the door. "Let's just pretend like this didn't happen," I said over my shoulder.

  Before he could reply, I opened his front door and closed it behind me.

  Thirteen

  For the first time in five days, I slept like the dead. After leaving Quill, whose kiss filled my mind with confusion mixed with irritation, I came home, crawled into bed and didn't wake up until the next morning at seven a.m. sharp. I got a good stretch of six hours of sleep, which was more than I could have hoped for.

  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. It 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, fur
thermore, 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 morality to help me—Caressa Brandenburg.

  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.