Booty Call (Episode Seven: The NIghtshade Cases)
(FADE IN :)
INT. – MELTON HOTEL GARAGE – NIGHT
Her footsteps echoed in the quiet of the parking garage, her shadow lengthening and multiplying before snapping back as she passed beneath the dim lights above. Not that she noticed, her head down, thumbs busy over the screen of her smartphone as she texted with a grin on her face.
Thx for dinner. Had a gr8 time.
No service. She shrugged, slipping the slim, black device into her shoulder bag, one foot splashing through a small puddle, deep enough to make her curse. A drip of water fell from above, a crack in the concrete allowing a tiny stream of water to invade the third level. She paused, shaking off the moisture from her Pradas, pausing to wipe at the expensive leather with a tissue from her bag.
Discarding the dirty bit of paper to the ground, mind already elsewhere, it wasn’t until she dug deeper in the contents of her purse her ears perked. Footsteps, low and heavy, coming from behind her, caught her attention. Held it.
She hated the fear reaction coursing through her at the sound, straightening her shoulders purposely, bitch face firmly in place, her only defense. That and the can of Mace she kept tucked away in her bag. But, she refused to be that woman who jumped at shadows.
Just let someone try to hurt her. He’d end up with the heel of her shoe in his crotch.
Her SUV waited up ahead, the sound of footsteps growing closer even as she picked up her own pace, brusque and professional, despite her hurry. Don’t look like a victim, she thought, and you won’t end up one.
She barely registered the fact the light over her vehicle was busted out, not while she aggressively tapped the lock button on her key ring, the tail lights of the black truck blinking in response. Without slowing, she rounded the side of her vehicle and jerked open the door, tossing in her bag before climbing in herself. She slammed the door shut behind her in one swift, confident action.
She refused to admit the exhale she released as she locked the doors behind her was relief. And almost laughed to herself at the sight, in her side mirror, of a teenager carrying a skateboard walking past the back of her truck. He turned his head, long, blue-dyed hair catching what little illumination came from the next bar of lights, eyes uninterested, face blank.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself.
It wasn’t until the push-button start on her car refused to ignite the engine she realized something was wrong. A brief flicker of movement raised her frowning face to the rearview mirror just in time for her wide, brown eyes to catch the tip of the gun, the muzzle flash.
She didn’t see anything after that.
Her whole body lurched forward as the head rest burst from the impact of the bullet through it, entering the back of her head and out through her eye socket, shattering the windshield on its way out. Enough brain matter splattered the interior to blur what the spider-web pattern of cracks didn’t.
In the dark of the parking spot, the back door of the SUV opened. Closed again with a dull thud. Footsteps retreated, leaving her alone, staring, as her text finally connected and reached its destination.
***
Episode Seven: Booty Call
(Smashwords Edition)
Copyright 2014 by Patti Larsen
Purely Paranormal Press
www.purelyparanormalpress.com
Find out more about Patti Larsen at http://www.pattilarsen.com/
Sign up for new releases http://bit.ly/pattilarsenemail
***
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Director Annetta Ribken www.wordwebbing.com
Production Designer Valerie Bellamy www.dog-earbookdesign.com
Editor Jessica Bufkin
Producer Anne Chaconas www.badassmktg.com
Series Created and Written by Patti Larsen
***
INT. – SILVER CITY COLLEGE – MORNING
Kinsey did her best not to grin at the tall redhead on the other side of her desk, just from sheer excitement. It seemed like she’d been badgering Gerri forever about the book resting on the surface of her desk, the red leather cover bent and worn with age, writing rubbed off so only the faint impression of where the words had been remained.
The blonde anthropologist had no idea what changed her detective friend’s mind. Maybe the acceptance of her own abilities, or the fact they had just dealt with a man who couldn’t die—Kinsey still blushed at the memory of Jordan and the effect he had on her—which made it impossible for Gerri to deny what they now faced.
Regardless, the fact Gerri sat at all was a miracle in itself. Sure, her crossed foot bobbed, cowboy boot toe dancing on the end of her jiggling knee, a stern and slightly wild look gracing her face. But she was sitting. About as big a miracle as the moment the red-haired Amazon crossed the threshold of Kinsey’s office and asked to talk about paranormals.
The “weird”, as Gerri called it. Kinsey wasn’t about to deny the very thing she’d wanted since the three friends— their medical examiner compatriot Ray part of the deal—reconnected here in Silver City.
“Here’s what I know,” Kinsey said, falling purposely into teacher mode, seeing Gerri visibly relax as her voice soothed the bigger woman with its practiced, soft firmness. Kinsey’s fingers slid over the book as she spoke, ridges hard under her touch. “There seem to be six main races outside of humans, all with specific abilities and gifts.” Gerri shuddered slightly, but didn’t comment. “There are also cross races created by the interbreeding of the six main ones, in an astonishingly vast array of possibilities.” At least, that was her guess. Telling Gerri she knew this for certain was, after all, a bit of a stretch. In fact, the book she’d received from the exorcist priest, Father Dante Delacruz, told her very little of what she shared with Gerri. Instead, she’d pieced together the research she’d done on the artifacts she studied under the oddly unwatchful care of Simone Paris. Kinsey had no doubt the woman had her own agenda, and working on the project for her made it difficult for Kinsey to help Gerri on her cases thanks to her involvement with suspected drug kingpin and nightclub owner, Julian Black. But Kinsey couldn’t seem to drag herself away from the fascinating artifacts she studied almost daily in the Black mansion, though she was certain now she had the majority of the symbols copied and carefully smuggled out of the private room.
Weird how she felt little to no guilt about breaking her non-disclosure agreement with Simone. Maybe if the woman had required her to sign a contract… but this was bigger than Simone, bigger than Kinsey or the Collective of All Souls who claimed ownership of the artifacts. This was, in Kinsey’s estimation, the biggest single discovery mankind had yet to uncover. And she planned to be in a position to be of help or guidance when the world did finally find out that humans were only a small part of the population of the planet.
Gerri’s hand tightened in her lap and Kinsey swallowed, realizing she’d let her mind wander and had fallen silent for too long.
“What races?” The detective’s voice sounded rough, heavy. But, she was still listening. Kinsey had faith in the survival of the Universe when Gerri listened.
She looked down at the book, though she didn’t need to open it to rattle them off, the symbols and names now burned into her memory.
“
Vampir,” she said, stressing the word carefully. “Nothing like vampires of pop culture, though. Nothing undead about them.” Kinsey’s fingers tapped softly on the surface of the book. “Healers, for the most part. I think Ray might be one of them.”
Gerri stayed silent, though her eyes narrowed. They both knew their medical examiner friend’s ability to identify the cause of death of some of her patients plagued her. Seeing their deaths so clearly had to be unsettling, something she’d been able to do since she was a child. Kinsey now suspected it was only humans, and not paranormals, Ray had such trouble with. That only those without power were open to being read, their deaths an open book to their friend. But it was hard to prove without an actual experiment and Kinsey wasn’t sure Ray was inclined to participate.
“Go on,” Gerri said. Not impatient, exactly, but insistent.
“Cubi,” Kinsey said. “You remember Aisling, the dancer from the Starlet Lounge?” The detective nodded. “She was cubi.” The lack of a heart was a dead giveaway. “They feed on the love of others.” Sick, really. “Secret keepers to the other races. Fascinating.”
Gerri licked her lips. “If you say so.”
Kinsey went on before he friend could bolt. “Danu,” she said. “Think elves, but not really.” It was the best description she could come up with. “Diplomats, mediators and law makers.”
“You talk about them like they fill those roles right now.” Gerri was definitely regretting her decision, Kinsey could see it on her face. But, she stayed where she was, hands clenching and unclenching in her lap, foot bobbing at a rapid rhythm.
Kinsey nodded, wishing there was a way to break it to the redhead gently. “Gerri,” she said, “they are.”
The detective exhaled heavily, rubbing her hands over her face. “That’s three.”
“Next is the dervish,” Kinsey said, her own stomach tightening at the thought. “They are the most mentioned in the book.” Tap, tap over the rough leather. “What the church consider devils or demons. Highly charismatic, but heartless, sociopathic, who feed on the souls of others.”
Gerri’s green eyes darkened as the creature inside her wakened. Kinsey wasn’t looking forward to talking to her about that. “Are you thinking about who I’m thinking about?”
The reference was obvious and had been to Kinsey since she finally understood who the races were. “Gideon Orter,” she said of the Grand Prophet of the Collective of All Souls.
Gerri nodded, jaw jumping. But, she seemed less agitated than before, more focused. “Two more.”
Kinsey hesitated, but forged on when her friend’s nostrils flared in agitation. “The bheast,” she blurted. The redhead shifted in her seat in response, as if understanding it was she Kinsey referenced. “Warriors, capable of feats of massive strength and speed, powerful intuition and heightened sense of loyalty.” Whether Gerri wanted to believe it or not, Kinsey just described her to a fault.
The redhead looked away, out the window, fine beads of sweat standing out on her upper lip. “That’s me,” she whispered into the sudden quiet.
Kinsey wished she could rise and hug her friend, but knew as Gerri’s whole body tensed the comfort wouldn’t be welcome. To her credit, the detective exhaled again before turning back, wiping at her face again before shrugging.
“Finally,” Kinsey said, rushing on, “the Nightshades.”
Gerri cocked her head to one side, frowning. “You?”
“Perceptive,” Kinsey said with a wry lip twist, her heart pounding, excitement making her lips twitch with the need to grin. Knowing at last what she was made her giddy with the need to understand more. “The Nightshades are the rulers of the other races, their ability to control the minds of others granting them the power over all.” Kinsey shivered inside. Ever since she could remember, she’d been able to manipulate and influence those around her with the subtle touch of her mind. Now she understood why, though wondered at the weakness of her ability.
“And humans,” Gerri said. “The seventh race.”
Kinsey sat back, hands steepling in front of her as she considered what to say about that. “They used to be slaves,” she said, “from what I can tell. But the Nightshades decided to set them free for some reason.” That part still confounded and confused her. She waved off Gerri’s intake of breath, knowing what the redhead was going to ask. “No clue why,” she said. “But since then, the paranormal races have gone into hiding and only the church has made a point of hunting those who show ability, though I doubt even they know why anymore.”
“The artifacts you’re studying,” Gerri said, pointedly refusing to say Simone’s name, Kinsey noticed, “how much history are they giving you?”
“More than the book,” she said, caressing it once again. “The church’s interpretation included hellfire and brimstone, exorcisms and devils born on earth. All dogma and lies, of course. But, I can see how humans—especially coming out of the Dark Ages and into the influence of the Church—might see anyone as different from them as being in league with the Devil.”
“Which means we can’t really trust what’s in there.” Gerri pointed at the book, green eyes careful.
Kinsey could see her friend’s attempt at brushing this off, could feel it. And sighed, shaking her head. “I have more than enough confirmation from the artifacts to back up everything I’ve read,” she said to Gerri’s visible irritation. “While the Church’s goals might have been to deny and eradicate all paranormals without fully understanding why, the translations of the artifacts give a solid enough basic history for me to confirm the truth.” She refused to back down when Gerri’s creature—her bheast—rose in her eyes to challenge her. “Like it or not, we have proof, Gerri. We’re not human. And it’s likely a large percentage of the population aren’t either.”
Kinsey let that sink in a moment. Gerri fussed and shifted, scowled and grumbled. But the detective wasn’t a fool or so stubborn she’d refuse to accept the writing on the wall. At least, Kinsey hoped not. When the redhead met her eyes again at last, there was enough grim acknowledgment in her gaze Kinsey relaxed.
“How much longer do you need with the artifacts to get what you can from them?” Gerri’s question surprised her, as did her acceptance. Kinsey shrugged.
“I’m mostly done now,” she said, understanding her mistake the moment she spoke. The detective’s green eyes sparked as she dropped her foot to the floor from her knee with a heavy thump, leaning forward to glare at the blonde.
“Then why the hell,” the detective snarled, “are you still working for Simone Paris?”
Well, damn it, Kinsey thought. How could she explain to the redhead about the odd compulsion she felt to continue studying the artifacts? That the draw was almost an addiction? That Kinsey herself mostly refused to accept her curiosity was the only thing keeping her at the mansion? Hard to ignore it with Gerri glaring her full in the face.
“Kins.” The detective’s big hands settled on the desk, intensity coming from her in waves. “You need to get the hell away from that woman.”
Kinsey knew and understood Gerri was right. “I know,” she said, surprised how low and controlled her own voice was. “I think Simone is part Nightshade too, Gerri. And possibly dervish.”
Gerri’s fingers clenched on the edge of the desk. “Meaning?”
“She’s using me for something outside of the artifact translations.” Kinsey had suspected it for quite some time now.
“And you’re still there.” Gerri sat back suddenly, looking away with her irritation written all over her tall, broad-shouldered body. “Idiot.”
Kinsey laughed softly. “Yup,” she said.
The two met gazes while the blonde forced the reticence inside her to still and go quiet.
“I’ll quit,” Kinsey said, surprised at how much those two words hurt to speak. “But you can’t turn your back on this ever again, Gerri. We need to deal with situations and issues without you pretending nothing weird is going on.”
The detective gr
unted, shoulders shifting inside her jacket as her pocket buzzed. She fished out her smartphone, checked the screen, frowned. Looked up as she stood, tucking it into the inside pocket again.
“Deal,” she said. “Go kick Simone to the curb. And come back to work.”
***
INT. – MELTON HOTEL GARAGE – MORNING
Gerri stepped out of her Charger into the dark, humid air of the Melton Hotel parking garage, still reeling from the conversation she’d had with Kinsey. Her logical mind warred with the absolute certainty in her heart that the anthropologist was telling her the truth. And while she’d typically thought herself a more reality based person, she had to admit the powerful push of her intuition—something she’d had her whole life—had little to do with logic or reality.
Damn it, she was some kind of werewolf or something? That was just fucking great. Kinsey got to be one of the ruling class, and Ray was a cool vampire thingie. Gerri naturally got stuck with the slavering critter crap.
Typical.
Her gut growled at her, as though understanding she was criticizing it, but she ignored it, actually feeling a tight grin cross her face. It made her feel better, oddly, to poke fun at herself, even as her heart swelled with the understanding she wasn’t a freak after all. Well, that was a stretch. But she wasn’t the only freak, was she?
It had just occurred to her she had to have gotten her bheast from one of her parents, a truth that stopped her in her tracks a moment with a shocked expression on her face, when CSI Tommy Binks stepped away from a black SUV and waved to her. His presence was enough to trigger Gerri's cop instincts and jerk her back from the brink of “holy shit” and into the case.
“Detective.” Binks’s pale complexion and hair seemed even more pronounced underground, as though the tall, thin man were some albino mole creature emerging from the darkness. Didn’t help he was dressed head-to-toe in a white disposable suit, booties and hood and all. His thin nose twitched, enhancing the comparison, large, pale eyes blinking at her from behind his thick, round glasses.