Wuthering Frights (Dulcie O'Neil)

  The portal I wanted to connect with in the Netherworld was located on the third floor of the ANC building, down the hallway from Caressa's office. It was supposed to be located in the women's restroom, which seemed the perfect site, considering I'd have to adjust my wardrobe before delivering the arrangement.

  I checked my watch again and took a step to the right, noticing the hour hand moving from twelve o'clock to one o'clock. I was almost there. It needed to be aligned with two o'clock. I took another step and the hand paused as the minute hand indicated thirty minutes. One-thirty. Another mini step brought the placement to one-forty-five. Another mini step and I was at two o'clock.

  I reached my hand forward and felt the difference in the air immediately. The air in the portal was viscous, gel-like to the touch and balmy. Now was the moment of reckoning. I put my backpack on the ground, pulled my T-shirt over my head until I was standing in just my jeans, sneakers and bra. Then clutching the backpack in one hand and my T-shirt in the other, I leaped forward.

  I was starting to get used to the feeling of portal travel, sort of like landing in a gigantic, warm gummy bear. But only a second later, you get shot out into a much colder atmosphere and have to take a deep breath to get your bearings straight. After experiencing exactly that, I took another big breath and found myself standing in the middle of a restroom.

  Portal travel? No problem.

  I could feel my idiotic wings sprouting from my back, only to begin frantically beating as I started to rise into the air. I lurched forward and grabbed hold of the sink with the hand that was also still clutching onto my T-shirt. I managed to station myself in place as I put the backpack in the basin before me. Then, while holding onto the sink with my other hand, I unzipped my backpack all the way and pulled out the bouquet. I propped it between the mirror and the faucet. Then I unzipped the backpack, taking out the scissors and the ribbon. My wings had started to calm down so I carefully released the sink, testing myself to see if I was going to start floating again. Luckily for me, it seemed I was finally earthbound, my wings only beating every few seconds.

  I continued to breathe in and breathe out slowly, trying to calm my wings to make them stop flapping entirely. After a few minutes, it seemed they got the point and lay dormant against my back. That was my cue. I picked up the ribbon and holding each end between my fingers, draped it over my neck, and pulled it down until it rested against my back at chest level. I pulled the ribbon tight against my wings, then I looped it over my neck again and tightened it a bit lower, making a crisscross sort of pattern along my back. Once I was convinced my wings couldn't break free of the pseudo prison, I tied the ribbon in a knot right above my breasts and trimmed the excess with the scissors. Then I pulled my T-shirt back over my head and carefully smoothed it down over my wings. Turning to glance at my profile in the mirror, my wings were small enough that they folded nicely beneath my shirt. Granted, they still appeared slightly lumpy, but lumpy I could handle. It was the flying I couldn't.

  I grabbed the bouquet and retrieved the note from the backpack, folding it in half and then half again so it just fit in my palm. Then I wadded my backpack up into as tight a bundle as I could and jammed it into the corner of the restroom, pulling the silver trash bin in front to conceal it. Yes, I was concerned about leaving the vials of antidote in the restroom unattended, but I was more concerned with being caught and as part of that, being questioned and detained. I mean, I had bypassed the whole front desk, sign-in procedure so it wasn't a stretch to imagine someone might have questions for me if I were caught.

  Steeling my courage with a big breath, I pulled the restroom door open and started down the hallway, pleased that no one else seemed to be out and about. I held the bouquet up high, so that it partially concealed my face and started scouting the nameplates along the walls outside each office. I wasn't sure if Caressa's assistant, Alex, would be stationed outside Caressa's office, but I hoped she wasn't. I was afraid that Alex might recognize me, even through my clown makeup. And if Alex did recognize me, I wasn't sure what she'd do.

  When I was halfway down the hall, I noticed Caressa's nameplate on the wall, outside of an undersized office, the walls made of glass. She was sitting at her desk, eating lunch as far as I could tell. No one else was with her. I felt my heart start beating hopefully.

  You're going to be fine, Dulcie, I told myself. It's now or never.

  I knocked on the glass door and when Caressa glanced up from where she'd been poring over a magazine, she nodded her head, giving me silent affirmation to enter. I did and swallowed hard as I closed the door behind me.

  "I've gotta delivery for Caressa Brandenburg," I said, making my voice sound high pitched and nasally. "Are you she?"

  She placed what looked like a PB&J sandwich back on the brown paper sack beside the magazine and studied me suspiciously. "No one from the lobby alerted me that I had any deliveries. They just let you up here?"

  "No one was there," I said, shrinking beneath her stringent gaze. "So I just let myself in." I frowned and offered her an apologetic smile. “Maybe whoever was manning the desk had to go to the bathroom," I added.

  She shrugged and eyed the bouquet with unconcealed interest as I watched her. Caressa was a shape-shifter; she could shift into a cheetah, and overall had the look of a cat; it was evident in her eyes and high cheekbones. She was tall, probably five foot eight, with long brown, wavy hair and blond highlights. Her eyes were nearly the same shade of blue as Knight's. All told, Caressa Brandenburg was beautiful and intimidating as shit.

  "Who are the flowers from?" she demanded, suspiciously.

  I shook my head to say I didn't know and walked right up to her, handing her the arrangement. She studied me for a second or two and I could see recognition in her eyes, although it was clouded with confusion. She was trying to place me.

  "I'm not at liberty to say," I replied, sounding like Mickey Mouse. Then I handed her the note.

  She watched me curiously, but accepted the letter and unfolded it, honing in on the words. Her eyes twitched as she read it. Immediately, her expression dropped and she gulped hard. Then she suddenly seemed to recognize me. She said nothing, but simply looked down at the letter again and her expression changed from one of shock to appreciation. A huge smile plastered itself across her lips and she shook her head in apparent amusement.

  "Wow, how sweet of him," she said, smiling up at me. "They're from the guy I'm seeing."

  Immediately, I caught on to her. Obviously, it wasn't safe to talk in her office and she was playing into my game to throw off anyone who could be listening or watching us via a surveillance system. She apparently finished reading the letter because in a matter of seconds, she reached over and fed it into a paper shredder below her desk, destroying it per my request.

  "Thank you for the delivery, they are lovely," she said, with an artificial smile. "I need to get some water for them," she added as she reached for a vase in the hutch behind her desk. When she stood up, I noticed the cast on her foot and then the crutches leaning against the wall behind her.

  "Allow me," I said, reaching for the bouquet, but with my eyes, I asked her: Where can we talk in private?

  She handed me the vase and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, we can fill it in the restroom just down the hall."

  I simply nodded, figuring it made sense that the only place where cameras wouldn't be allowed would be the restroom. Apparently, there was a certain level of respect for privacy even in the Netherworld. I turned around, and with Caressa by my side, headed back down the hallway. When we reached the restroom, I held the door open for her and followed her inside. Before either of us said a word, I bent over and scanned under each stall for feet. There weren't any. We were alone.

  Caressa reached over and turned on the water.

  "Did you memorize the drop-off locations and times?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

  She simply nodded. "I made sure I had everything stored in my mind before I destroyed your lett
er. Lucky for you I've got a photographic memory." She paused and took a deep breath, obviously displeased with the information. "Where did you get …" she started.

  I shook my head. "We don't have time, and even if we did, I can't tell you. All I can tell you is that this is a dire situation. You need to get every ANC person you have in the know and at least three in each of the locations I specified in that letter. And …" I reached for the backpack which was still behind the trashcan. I fished inside it until I found the two vials of antidote and handed them to her. "Make sure everyone takes one of these prior to arriving at each destination. Otherwise they'll become addicts within seconds of the stuff being released into the air."

  "How long will the antidote last?" she asked.

  I wasn't exactly sure, so I just answered, "Long enough."

  She nodded and accepted both vials, opening her jacket and placing them in a pocket beside her Op 6 which was holstered across her chest. "Are you sure that's the extent of the traffickers who will be at each location?" she asked. "I don't want to set my people up to be outmanned."

  I shook my head. "As far as I know, but it would probably behoove you to plan for more, rather than less."

  "And the Dryads? They can't survive for more than a few hours outside of the forest."

  I nodded and sighed deeply. "That will also have to be part of the ANC’s job—to get the Dryads back safely."

  She said nothing, but breathed in deeply and then nodded, as if approving of my plan to ensure the safety of the Dryads. Thank God. "He's responsible for this, isn't he?" she asked. It didn't take a genius to figure out she was referring to Melchior.

  I didn't deny it, but neither did I confirm it; instead, I raised a subject far more important. "I need you to make sure Knight is as far away from Splendor as possible," I continued. "Once the Draoidheil comes through, his life will be in danger."

  She glanced down at me with concern in her eyes. "Why?"

  I shook my head. "I can't get into it. I've already stayed here too long. You just need to ensure that Knight is elsewhere—wherever he’s least likely to be found. And give him orders to leave Splendor today." After all, there were only two days remaining before the Draoidheil was scheduled to arrive, only two days remaining before the shit was really going to hit the fan.

  "Okay," she said and then paused, studying me intently. "Are you in trouble?"

  "Up to my ears." I took a deep breath. "That's the other thing, do NOT tell anyone that I came here or that I gave you this information. If it gets out that it was me, Knight will be the one to suffer, do you understand?"

  She frowned. "Crystal clear."

  Sixteen

  The days leading up to the Draoidheil delivery passed by in a blur while the moments before we were due at the docks seemed to go by at a snail's pace. For the last twenty-four hours, I was on autopilot, just going through the motions of living my life (including magicking my purple-black hair back to my natural honey gold), fully aware that everything I knew was about to change drastically.

  After tonight, when Melchior's plan went awry, my father would be fully aware that something was rotten in the state of Splendor. I had to imagine it wouldn't be a stretch to realize I was the one with the loose lips. As soon as Melchior discovered that Knight was no longer in Splendor and unaccounted for, it would be obvious that I was the mastermind. Yep, I would be the one to destroy my father's dreams of despotism. And what did that mean for me? Well, honestly, I hadn't even thought that far ahead. But considering it now, en route to the loading docks, with Quillan as my only companion, I realized my neck would soon be on the chopping block.

  "Are you okay, Dulce?" Quill asked. He was driving the red Mercedes my father lent me. With my current state of nerves and anxiety, I didn't think driving myself was a good idea.

  According to plan, it was just going to be Quill and me working on the loading docks. We were supposed to meet up with Baron and Horatio to receive six shipments of Draoidheil. After securing the crates in the Mercedes, we would take them to Ink, where we would store them in the cellar until further word from Melchior. Christina was supposed to do the same at the abandoned railway station, also in Splendor, with three sidekicks provided by my father.

  "Yeah, I'm okay," I said with a sigh when I noticed the concerned smile on his handsome face. As I took in the sweet expression in his eyes and the fullness of his lips, I suddenly wished things were completely different. I wished I could rewind time to how things were a year ago, before I discovered my so-called friends were illegal potions importers. And before I'd become one too.

  "Do you ever think about how things used to be?" I asked him in a small, wistful voice, the seatbelt across my chest suddenly binding and tight.

  He nodded and chewed on his lower lip for a second or two as his eyes seemed to glaze over with something that resembled nostalgia. "I live in my memories, Dulcie," he said softly. "The only way I've been able to survive is to relive the memories I once found so much enjoyment in."

  My lips went tight. "You realize that's not living, right, Quill?" When he didn't respond, I continued. "He's reduced us to this." I shook my head, hating my father with every cell in my body.

  "We don't have to endure this alone," Quill said, reaching over to pat my knee consolingly. I eyed him with surprise, and when he didn't move his hand, I moved it for him. "You used to care about me, Dulcie," he said, apologetically, his eyes boring into mine.

  "Yeah, a long time ago."

  "Once you called me your hero," he continued and I couldn't swallow the frog that lodged in my throat. He was referring to the protagonist of a romance novel I'd been writing who had been modeled after him. And, to be fair, once upon a time he had been my hero. But if I'd learned anything in the last year or so, it was that "once upon a time" didn't exist. Fairy tales depicting happily ever afters were just that: tales ... lies ... crocks of total shit.

  "I could be your hero again, Dulcie."

  "Quill," I began, unhappy with the direction this conversation seemed to be headed. Things were as different now as night and day; and the feelings I'd once felt for him had changed.

  But Quill shook his head. "I think about you constantly, about us, about what could have been." He hit a red light and used it to his advantage, turning to face me as he spilled the contents of his heart. It made me feel like a total asshole because I didn’t want to hear any of it."I've felt your passion for me, Dulcie. I've kissed you and I know you enjoyed it. I want to know what it means to taste you again."

  I took a deep breath and riveted my attention out the window, knowing that tonight I would not only betray my father but Quillan as well. And what was more, he would remember this exact moment, this conversation, and he'd probably hate me for it.

  "We could be happy together," he said, breaking the silence in the car that was now suffocating me. The light changed to green and he started forward. The docks loomed into view.

  I faced him, my eyes harsh. "We'll never find happiness doing this," I said acidly. "This is no way to live and you know it."

  "I would live my life around you. You're the only thing that brings me any joy anyway."

  "You have to stop talking to me like this," I said, diverting my eyes, not able to stomach the expression of pain in his gaze.

  Quill laughed an ugly sound as he took a right on the road that led down to the docks. We were twenty minutes early and there was no sign of Baron or Horatio anywhere. Neither was there a sign of anyone from the ANC. As far as I could tell, Quill and I were the first to arrive.

  "Things will never be the same between you and Vander," Quill said, seemingly enjoying holding my tattered relationship with Knight over my head. "You occupy opposite worlds now and the sooner you realize that, the better. You need to move on."

  "Move on with you?" I snapped, turning to glare at him, even as I told myself to cool it but I couldn't seem to keep my anger in check. I was so overwhelmed with rage and fear about the unfolding events that I felt like a
ticking time bomb.

  "You cared for me once," he said simply.

  I shook my head. "We are not having this conversation right now."

  Quill said nothing more, but parked the Mercedes in the lot just beside the docks. Faced with the silence between us, I undid my seatbelt, opened the car door and stepped out into the dark night. I stared up at the stars, feeling the cold, salty air dance with my hair, shifting it this way and that. Watching the stars twinkle back at me, I suddenly yearned to be anywhere but here. For once I actually wished my fairy wings would sprout from my back and carry me away with the gentle winds.

  "Where the fuck you been?" I heard Baron's voice and turned around, feeling dismay fill my gut as my heart dropped. He stood maybe six feet from me, leering at me as if I were naked. And I was far from naked—clad in my yoga pants, tennies and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. I'd strapped daggers to my upper arms and my Op 6 was snugly holstered around my waist and hidden beneath my zippered sweatshirt.