[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions Read online

  With a sigh, she waited for the telltale buzz on her phone to let her know she had a new message. A minute passed by before she remembered that her phone was in her husband’s study. She’d left it there last night rather than put it in her office. It had been late, she’d been tired and had a headache. The faint buzzing sound greeted her as she stepped into the darkened hall. Following the noise, she came upon the closed door. A sense of foreboding greeted her as she stood in front of the dark wood. Her gut tugged and a chill traced a finger down her spine. It always made her uncomfortable going into his domain. He’d made it a point to tell her she was welcome in his part of the house but the office was off limits unless he was there. No reason was given but all the same it annoyed her that something of his was closed off to her. They were married, they shared everything. He had his man cave, she had her hobby room. They could pass into those spaces and be welcomed but in this office she wasn’t at home.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she lifted her hand to the knob and turned the cold metal. The audible click told her that the lock wasn’t in place. Curious. He always kept it locked. Not wanting to dally out in the hall, she opened the door and went into the space. The office was old world masculinity. Dark paneled wood and rich red paint on the walls. The furniture was all heavy and varnished in a deep brown. Leather seating was placed around a low ottoman. Plush Oriental carpeting covered the floors. The curtains were closed. The only light came from the overhead chandelier. Cold air breathed across her bare arms as goose bumps rose in the chill. Resisting the urge to turn around and leave, she headed straight for his desk. That was where she’d left her phone. The bright pink casing stood out against the stark white papers on the desktop. She scooped it up and pocketed it. Having gotten what she came for, she was about to turn around when the emblem of the Tourist Board on a piece of paper caught her eye. Her husband had nothing to do with the Tourist Board. That was her area. Curious, she reached out and picked up the missive.

  “Contest winners have arrived in city. Checked and settled.”

  -A

  What the hell? Contest? I didn’t authorize a contest. We didn’t vote on any competitions. All thoughts of using games to bring in more out-of-towners to Draven’s Crossing had been put on hold until the killer was caught. She read the date and nearly threw up. It was headed as a month ago. Anger blazed hot through her body and she nearly screamed. Who the hell was A, and why wasn’t she told about this? The murders had begun over a month ago. No one should be trying to bring in vacationers. Instructions had been given. She picked up another paper and read it, yet again, an email about a contest dated three weeks ago. Muffy rifled through his desk, reading more and more documents about contests from websites she’d never even heard of. What the fuck? She reached into her pocket to call him only to stop. He was in the middle of an interview with Isy. He wouldn’t be reachable until maybe just before he got home. There were meetings and people he had to see. She continued to read the email. Each one only pushed her further to the edge.

  “New contest uploaded to website. Will have results soon.”

  -A

  Disbelief rocked through her. Each line was like a stab to her heart, to her gut. She dropped what she was holding and picked up another document. Then another. And another. She stared at what she held in her hands, shaking her head. Nothing made sense. She read copies of the coroner’s reports, police reports, memos to the Mayor, airplane tickets, train tickets, hotel receipts. All of it he shouldn’t have and yet there it was. It was all here. He had so much information and he’d done nothing with it. Why hadn’t he gone to Torger? Why was he running these contests without telling her? Who was A? She didn’t recognize the email address. Muffy knew she had to tell someone. She reached into her pocket and turned on the phone. She was about to hit speed dial when a soft clearing of a throat behind her had her whirling around and pausing. Perhaps she’d get some answers from one of his minions.

  Muffy held up the papers. Outrage emboldened her to ask, “Did you know about this? What the hell is all this? What are these contests? Why wasn’t I told? Is he investigating the killings? Why hasn’t he gone to Torger or the Mayor?” she demanded.

  “You shouldn’t be back here. You were told not to come here,” the robed figure before her said. His low, hissed voice traced a cold finger down her spine, raising goose bumps in its wake. The room temperature dropped a few degrees.

  She smirked, despite her legs quivering in fear. “I can go where I please. I’m his wife and I live here too. Nothing is off limits to me.” It was a lie but this thing didn’t need to know that.

  The figure shrugged. “We have our reasons for not telling anyone what we know. Besides the mayoral election is coming up.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “An election? People are dying!”

  “And we need to win, then we will tell the police all we know,” the figure replied. Calm and cool as you please.

  Muffy gritted her teeth, outraged that her husband would go along with this, all for the sake of getting re-elected. “I can destroy you and this little scheme of yours. One word to Torger. One word. You and everyone who works with you will be hauled in and humiliated.”

  She strode up to him and poked him in the chest, letting her anger shrug off the fear she felt for the man.

  “And why would he believe you?” the figure asked.

  Muffy opened her mouth to reply when white-hot pain sliced through her throat. She reached up. Liquid heat flooded her hand, dripping down her neck, soaking her blouse. Her heartbeat began to slow as dizziness assaulted her. Standing was becoming hard to do. Thoughts formed and scattered. She stared at the person in disbelief. Her knees gave out. She barely felt the impact of the floor. Shock continued to reverberate through her.

  “Fuck! I didn’t tell you to do that. Clean it up. Now!” the figure roared and strode off.

  Muffy didn’t even struggle against her fate. She couldn’t understand how this had happened. Why it was happening to her. As death took her, she looked up into pale silver eyes gazing down at her. There was no emotion. Neither hate nor anger stared at her. Pale skin glistened in the overhead light; thin lips formed a line. Fear dug down inside of her as she resigned herself to what was to come. Closing her eyes she just wished that she could have gotten word to Torger, something to let them know what was going on. A sense of weightlessness took over. She drifted on clouds as life ebbed away. She felt the heavy fall of her hand away from her throat. Cool liquid continued to trickle down her throat. Her heart stopped beating. The last breath gushed past her lips. She couldn’t feel any of it.

  * * * *

  Coffee? Isy’d asked him for coffee. Dinner would have been better. Hell, just fuck me now would have been perfect, but just coffee? She wasn’t sure if the ghost of her mother had taken over her hands and typed that out. Okay, she would never have suggested they fuck, not without dinner and a lot of alcohol first but still, her hormones were driving her nuts. Since the dream and the tiny tête-à-tête with Hamilcar, her body had gone in an interesting, if not scary, direction. It was like she was going through her mate heat all over again. Puberty had come back and smacked her in the ass and was getting revenge for not finding someone to fuck. With a sigh, she tried to refocus on her interview. Representative Evanson’s people had handed her a list of topics that were off limits.

  She’d scanned the list in disgust. Her gut twisted at the sheer audacity that they had indulged in this move. At first the chat was supposed to be a small thing, a kind of catch up with the Representative to the Council. Now it seemed that he had bigger plans and ideas. Isy had a sinking feeling that he wanted to take on Draven in the upcoming election, which wouldn’t go over with the out-of-state politicos that had made it clear that they liked dealing with Draven and didn’t want change. None of her sources close to the Representative had indicated this was where his thoughts were, but it didn’t take a lot of thinking to know that something was going on. He’d reversed a lot of his po
sitions in the last month alone. Evanson wanted harsher penalties for criminals, which wouldn’t be so bad if Draven’s Crossing was a crime ridden city. He’d demanded a crack down on vigilante justice, to which Isy asked where? There were no Batman wannabes running around, costume or no. There were also his new policies, like a demand for testing within the shifter community to determine which shifters were dangerous, and an allowance for the medical community to take “dangerous” shifter subjects in for testing rather than put them in incarceration and therapy.

  She wanted to scream at that one, only because a lot of her favorite relatives would be rounded up if that law went into effect. There were also the weird notions on vampires. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was he trying to say but every time he brought them up, he made it clear that he felt that vampires weren’t to be trusted. She’d met a lot of vampires in her time, and she equated them to humans only with a skewered moral compass depending on the age and the level of interaction with normal people. There were still some vampires who thought they were royalty or gods. She’d be more than happy to flame-throw their asses to dissuade them of that notion but had no desire to be arrested no matter how sexy Torger was and what he could actually do with those handcuffs.

  Right now her biggest roadblock was Evanson. He’d made it clear—she doubted his handlers came up with this list—that he wouldn’t be answering anything other than softball questions. That only made her job harder. She wasn’t dealing with a Bat Scout Girl trying to raise money for her community and slinging those evilly delicious and deceptively addictive cookies, cakes and brownies, here. This was a fully grown, adult man who wanted to be taken seriously. Which only made her want to laugh but she’d save that chuckle for later. There was an interview to get through and then a way to turn coffee into dinner to plan. At least, she hoped he wanted dinner. With a breath, she reread the questions as her makeup person finished up trying to make her look acceptable on camera.

  She stepped on set and waited to be acknowledged. Evanson continued to talk to an aide without even giving a nod in her direction. Angered by his lack of courtesy, she sat down. The plush cushion of the chair did nothing to put her at ease. She may be in her environment, but he was encroaching and she didn’t like it, not one bit. Evanson finally turned toward her and smiled, the action didn’t reach his eyes, then did nothing to greet her, not even a handshake. Before she could say anything, they started doing the countdown. Must be professional. Must not rip out guest’s throat or blow smoke rings at him. Must behave. Her inner dragon snorted in response. Isy told the beast to shut the hell up seeing as how it hadn’t been helping her in the least lately.

  The interview started, and Isy prepared to be shown some respect. That wasn’t to be. Halfway through, she knew that something was wrong. Her stomach threatened to rebel with each word he uttered. Her skin itched; sweat beaded along her brow. The longer she sat across from Ivan Evanson the more she wanted to claw off her skin. The smarmy bastard continued to talk about the new programs that he’d initiated since taking office. Every word was: blah, blah, blah in her ears. The foul stench of deception hung in the air between them. He shifted in his seat and her dragon latched onto that movement, puffing pale pink clouds of smoke from its nostrils, watching him with great interest. She couldn’t attack him, not physically anyway. She opened her mouth to counter his claims when movement caught her attention.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw her producer give her the wrap up signal. Damn it. She wanted to rip into his accomplishments, point out that he’d recently supported a move to strip unions of bargaining rights and limit healthcare for the elderly and poor; he’d also made a deal with local big businesses and corporations for bigger tax breaks while putting more of the burden on the mom and pop shops. Also, she wanted to bring up his support of the new programs dealing with rogue and violent shifters, and his odd stances on vampires and the paranormal community in general. Instead, she had to wait until next time. Gritting her teeth, she reined in her temper. With a smile, she thanked Evanson for his time and did the sign off. She hated every minute of it. Coffee or dinner with Torger couldn’t come soon enough. Whatever they did, sex would be the dessert, damn it. She’d make sure of it even if she had to drag him back home with her.

  Be polite, she admonished herself. “Thank you for your time, Representative Evanson. It’s been a pleasure.” Lie! Her dragon roared but she ignored the beast and focused on trying to get through the pleasantries. Soon she’d be able to escape to her dressing room and her phone.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Isadora. I’m just happy you found some time on your show for me.” He gave her a genial smile.

  Oh, look he’s actually being civil and acknowledging me, now that he got what he wanted. She resisted the urge to ignore him and walk away. Evanson forced his way into an interview and then gave me a list of things I couldn’t ask him about, like his recent trips to a well-known political backer’s retreat. “Maybe next time we can make this a real interview. With actual questions.” She bit her lip and waited for the explosion from him, his posse and Bill. Nothing. Which only made her leery.

  He chuckled. “Maybe, but then I wouldn’t be in control, would I?” His dark brown eyes glimmered with warning, and he turned on his heel and left without shaking her hand.

  She didn’t mourn the loss. Instead, she turned and headed for her dressing room. Isy wanted to strip off the cotton candy pink dress and take a shower. She felt dirty after that encounter, as if just interacting with Evanson had smeared dirt and mud through her clothes.

  “Isy!” Bill, her producer hissed behind her. “You need to setup for the next interview.”

  She didn’t bother to respond. Isy took off for her dressing room. And as for setting up, that was a bunch of bullshit. She was the only one doing research so thorough that she could tell the interviewee what they’d worn for their kindergarten class picture. “Later, Bill. Let me change first.”

  She rushed to her dressing room, stripped off her clothes and headed into the bathroom. Bill would be furious but she needed time to herself. Once the door was shut behind her she leaned against the thick wood and blew out a sigh. Closing her eyes, she released the pent up negative energy in a plume of smoke that drifted around the small space. A roar built up in her throat. As much as she wanted to let it out, the sound would freak everyone out. Instead, she channeled the sound into heat. Her body temperature built, stacking like blocks. Sparks danced on her skin, as scales rippled along her flesh. Her hair grew longer as her fingers became thinner. Just as the change formed her tail and she could feel her body growing in bulk, she stopped the change and ordered a reversal.

  The energy that it took to change and then reverse left her spent. All anger dissipated, the steady rhythm of her heart sounded in her head, drowning out her thoughts. The slow beat calmed her. Once she felt more like herself, more human, she dragged herself to the shower and stepped under the cool spray, not waiting for it to heat up. There was no need. Her body heat made up for the cold. Tilting up, she allowed the water to sluice over her head, washing away whatever it was that had attached itself to her during the interview. As her thoughts ordered themselves, she ruminated over the interview. Something was wrong with Evanson. Deep down in her gut, she felt there was a story there. Something about him was off and she refused to let go of it. The reporter instinct that had long since atrophied due to no new leads on the serial killer case came back alive, hungry for a story. The serial killer stalking the town went on the backburner. Until there was something to tell, this was where her mind would be. Besides, getting progress reports from Draven and Torger were hit and miss. The smallest details were repeated in the news, ad nauseam. She didn’t want to tell people the same old thing all the time. It wasn’t productive and didn’t push anything forward. Isy knew that the taciturn attitude of the administration was due to lack of information.

  Each time she’d spoken to Torger, she could feel his frustration. She could understand it
. On the news end everyone was feeling the pressure from the citizens and even outside of their city for something, anything, a scrap to tide them over. Good news or bad, they wanted it all. Isy was doing her best but it was like crawling around in the dark without a flashlight or a clue. She didn’t know where to look or what to say to make things better. Hanging her head, she let the water continue to rush over her. She knew that once she stepped out of the shower she’d be getting a talking to from Enrique, her hair stylist, and Desdemona, her makeup artist. She didn’t care. Isy needed to be cleansed and she didn’t have any incense with her, so she couldn’t smudge and a chakra cleansing meditation needed time and a place of peace and tranquility. The studio was not an oasis. Could never be mistaken for one.

  Scrubbing away the makeup and hair product she washed herself until she felt completely purified and got out of the shower. Drying off, her thoughts turned to Torger and the upcoming coffee date. Her body heated, and her dragon perked its head up. A tug began in her stomach as blood pooled in her groin. Liquid heat filled her pussy. Gritting her teeth, she fought against the small wave of desire trying to pull her under. Ignoring her attraction to Torger was the norm for her. It had to be due to their jobs. The Werewolf Alpha hadn’t acted on his attraction and at the moment she couldn’t do anything until their date. In the past, she thought she didn’t have time for romance. Most of her lovers had hated the fact that she was a reporter, especially her more high profile paramours. She didn’t think she could take it if Torger rebuffed her for fear of her profession but doubted that would be the reason. With a sigh, she wrapped a towel around herself and stepped into the dressing room area. Both Enrique and Desi were waiting for her. Her assistant, Michaela, gave her a small smile but looked distressed, as usual.