Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy(12)

“You look as precious as an Easter egg,” Tristan observed. His appreciative glance made me flush with happiness.

“Well, Easter is only a couple weeks away,” I answered, walking over and flouncing down on the couch next to him. I thought of my gold sandals and pearl drop earrings, along with a hand-painted wooden bangle I’d bought from a local artisan. Poof! Just like that, I wore the ensemble.

I wonder if the dead do anything that requires a Versace gown.

Dan sat on the edge of the table we’d just had so much fun on. I looked him over, trying to discern what he’d thought of our romp. He looked back and grinned.

“A Dom is born,” I said.

“I never knew a woman who liked to have control taken away. You sure don’t act like it when you’re not naked.”

Tristan stroked my hair, and I shivered at the touch. He said, “It’s a popular misconception that subs are doormats. Most of the ones I’ve known are very much take charge outside of the bedroom.”

“I like the sound of that combination. Strong as nails during the day, soft in my arms at night. I take it you’re feeling much better, Brandilynn?”

“Much.” I frowned at them now that my hormones didn’t rule my brains. “You said something about I was your only witness to the killer. “Where are the ghosts of the other women who were murdered? There were what, more than a dozen in the last two years?”

Tristan answered that one. “Not all the dead come back as ghosts. There was one other victim we found a few months ago, but she also suffered from amnesiatic trauma and disappeared before we could get any information from her.”

I stared at him. “If the dead don’t come back as ghosts, where do they go? Heaven and Hell?”





Dan shrugged. “No one really knows. It seems those with strong personalities manifest as spirits. And if there’s a Heaven or Hell, we’ve never seen a sign of either.”

Tristan added, “Most spirits haunt beloved homes, follow loved ones around, or stay with their bodies.”

“Like I did.” My voice sounded very small as I thought about the long frightening days and nights in the woods. “I thought I was having a nightmare. It was horrible.”

Dan said, “It’s a miracle you’re sane. Most of the serial killer’s victims are savaged beyond the simple blood draining vampires usually do. No doubt the pain you suffered was horrific.”

“Stop trying to cheer me up.” I pushed aside the grief that wanted to overwhelm me once more.

Tristan asked, “You didn’t extend your escort services to vampires, you said.”

“Human only. One of your fellow commission members was a regular of mine, George Stansfield.”

Tristan grimaced. “I’m sure it will come out during the investigation. These things always do. I’ll have to prepare a statement.”

“If the police dig too far, it’s going to hurt some big names in the community.”

“Oh, you can be sure they’ll dig. There’s a lot of pressure to get these murders solved and the killer staked.” He changed subjects. “How did you get into being an escort? I’ve seen the news reports. Your family is Fulton Falls’ high society.”

My answer was short. “Rebellion.”

Dan stared at me in shock. “That’s it?”

They always wanted explanations. I sighed. “My life was stifling. My parents had my entire future planned out. I went to the right private school, had all the right friends, attended the right college … they even picked the right man for me to marry.”





Tristan nodded. “That wouldn’t have been not too strange for my time, but these days it’s a little extreme.”

“I couldn’t breathe without their say so.” Eager to change the subject, I asked, “How old are you, Mr. Keith?”

He blinked at the turn of conversation, but he didn’t press the issue. With a smile he said, “After sharing carnal relations, I think you should call me Tristan.”

“Okay. Tristan.” I smiled. Why had I been so afraid of vampires? He really wasn’t a bad sort. A little old-fashioned, at least when he wasn’t humping me on a library table, but I liked it.

“I was born at the turn of the century over 100 years ago,” he said. “I’ve been a vampire for almost 75 years.”

“You’re kind of young for being such a big time player among the vamps, aren’t you?”





He shrugged. “While we gain in our supernatural powers as we get older, it becomes harder and harder to keep up with the changing times, especially those born before the Industrial Revolution. Most elders retire from public life around the 300-year mark.”