Blood Wyne (2 page)
BLOOD WYNE
A Berkley Book/published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley mass-market edition/February 2011
Berkley mass-market edition/February 2011
Excerpt from
Night Veil
by Yasmine Galenorn copyright © by Yasmine Galenorn.
Night Veil
by Yasmine Galenorn copyright © by Yasmine Galenorn.
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-47703-8
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®
Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
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The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
®
Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
®
is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Dedicated to
Maura, Jo, and Jenn-A,
who all too often play cheerleader to my decadent behavior.
Kisses and hugs.
Maura, Jo, and Jenn-A,
who all too often play cheerleader to my decadent behavior.
Kisses and hugs.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my beloved Samwise. And my gratitude to my agent, Meredith Bernstein, and to my editor, Kate Seaver—thank you both for helping me stretch my wings and fly. A salute to Tony Mauro, cover artist extraordinaire—you rock, dude. To my assistant and web comic artist, Jennifer Anderson. To my furry little “Galenorn Gurlz,” Lolcats in their own right. Most reverent devotion to Ukko, Rauni, Mielikki, and Tapio, my spiritual guardians.
And the biggest thank-you of all—to my readers, both old and new. Your support helps keep the series going. You can find me on the Net at Galenorn En/Visions:
www.galenorn.com
. For links to social networking sites where you can find me, see my website.
www.galenorn.com
. For links to social networking sites where you can find me, see my website.
If you write to me snail mail (see website for address or write via the publisher), please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope with your letter if you would like a reply. Promo goodies are available—see my site for info.
The Painted Panther
Yasmine Galenorn
February 2011
Yasmine Galenorn
February 2011
All houses are haunted. All persons are haunted. Throngs of spirits follow us everywhere. We are never alone.
—BARNEY SARECKY
Men die in despair, while spirits die in ecstasy.
—HONORE DE BALZAC
CHAPTER 1
“I can’t believe I need
another
new bartender.” I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet on the desk. Luke had left the bar for a good reason, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. And his replacement—Shawn, a vampire—hadn’t risen to the challenge. I’d fired him after two weeks of inept bartending and questionable customer service. When I caught him trying to put the fang on a couple of my regulars, I lost it and kicked him out. Nobody messed with my regulars, especially in
my
bar.
another
new bartender.” I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet on the desk. Luke had left the bar for a good reason, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. And his replacement—Shawn, a vampire—hadn’t risen to the challenge. I’d fired him after two weeks of inept bartending and questionable customer service. When I caught him trying to put the fang on a couple of my regulars, I lost it and kicked him out. Nobody messed with my regulars, especially in
my
bar.
But that left a void. The Wayfarer was busy, like every other place during the holiday season, and we needed every hand on board. We’d started early with an Otherworld Thanksgiving feast from the grill, and then that weekend I’d put up a fake tree in the corner and handed out bonuses so that my employees could shop. Now, nearing the end of the first week of December, the main focus of Winter Solstice was still ahead of us—and Christmas for my clients who celebrated it—and the parties were getting more frantic and raucous every night as people crowded in, exhausted from shopping and coping with holiday chaos.
Nerissa gave me the what-can-you-do gesture with her hands, tossing them up in the air. “What can I say, doll? I’m sorry, but that’s the way things go.” Standing behind me, she leaned down and slowly trailed a line of kisses down my cheek to my neck. “I’d work for you, if I didn’t have the day job.”
“You’d make such an awesome bartender, and then I could yank you back here in my office to make love whenever we felt like it.”
“We’d never get anything done,” she countered.
I laughed, then shrugged. “I know, I know—hiring people is part of owning a bar, but it fucking sucks.”
I tipped my head back and she caught me full on the mouth. I savored my golden goddess’s lips as she set off a ricochet of desire that shockwaved through my body. All I could think about was how much I wanted her.
Here. Now.
As I reached for her breast, my fingers sliding over the rounded curves of her body, a knock on the door interrupted us.
Here. Now.
As I reached for her breast, my fingers sliding over the rounded curves of her body, a knock on the door interrupted us.
“Bad timing.” I glanced up at her ruefully. “Rain check?”
“Always.” She reluctantly stepped back to sit in the chair next to my desk.
A werepuma, Nerissa was a warped Aphrodite, but she was also extremely diplomatic about knowing when I needed to present a professional appearance. She sat primly in the chair, her skirt suit and tawny chignon making her look like a librarian waiting to bust out and go wild. Everybody knew we were together, but it wouldn’t do for the boss to be sucking face when the help checked in.
“Come in.” I waited as Chrysandra opened the door and peeked her head in. “What’s up?”
She glanced at Nerissa, then at me, and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but I’ve got someone out here looking for a job. I’m not sure, but you might want to talk to him.”
“Supe?” I had instituted a policy of only hiring members of the Supernatural Community. The Wayfarer attracted far too many potential problems for me to take a chance on any more full-blooded humans. Chrysandra had gotten the hang of working around Supes of all kinds, but for a bartender, I needed someone who could also act as bouncer when I wasn’t around.
Pieder, the giant, did a good job, but he worked days, and I was hiring for the night shift. I probably should hire a second bouncer while I was at it, but since I worked a majority of evenings in the bar, I usually covered the void. Smart people didn’t mess with vampires, and most of my regulars had quickly learned not to cross me.
She nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not sure what kind. He has an odd
feel
.” The look on her face told me that either he made her nervous or he was just so strange that she didn’t know what to make of him. Chrysandra was, I had discovered, fairly psychic for an FBH—full-blooded human—and she picked up on things easily.
feel
.” The look on her face told me that either he made her nervous or he was just so strange that she didn’t know what to make of him. Chrysandra was, I had discovered, fairly psychic for an FBH—full-blooded human—and she picked up on things easily.
“Send him in.” I turned to Nerissa. “Sweetie, you mind giving me a little privacy to interview him?”
“No problem. You sure you want to talk to him alone, girl?” She stroked my cheek with her fingers. “I can stay.”
“I can tear apart ninety percent of the creatures I meet if they bother me. Don’t forget that I’m a vampire, sweet-heart. Never,
ever
forget it.” I took her hand, holding it for a moment. I loved her dearly, and because of that, I never wanted her to forget I was a dangerous predator. It was my nature and I accepted it and at times—reveled in it.
ever
forget it.” I took her hand, holding it for a moment. I loved her dearly, and because of that, I never wanted her to forget I was a dangerous predator. It was my nature and I accepted it and at times—reveled in it.
“I never do,” she whispered softly, then followed Chrysandra out of the room, her skirt swishing in a way that drove me crazy. I wanted to slip my hands under the hem, to run them up her golden thighs. For so long, after Dredge had gotten through with me, I’d repressed my sexuality, but Nerissa had woken it up, full steam ahead, and there was no putting the djinn back in the bottle.
I put my feet on the floor and straightened the papers on my desk. Inventory time was heading full throttle toward us; we were coming up on the end of the year, and I needed to do a full accounting of everything in the bar.
I also was preparing to open the Wayfarer to overnight travelers. We’d cleaned out the rooms upstairs, redecorated and sanded and painted, and now I had space for seven guests, with three communal bathrooms.
But opening to overnight guests meant hiring a maid. I’d also have to find someone to run room service, carry bags, and, in general, take care of the needs of our Otherworld patrons. For the most part, that was who I expected to see. I already had decided that I wouldn’t rent to goblins, ogres, or anybody likely to cause trouble.
Since the Wayfarer technically belonged to an OW resident—me—it was considered sovereign territory. I could discriminate for whatever reason I wanted. And letting creeps and miscreants stay in the bar wasn’t my idea of equal opportunity. Especially not when my sisters and I were waging a demonic war.
The door opened, and a man cleared the archway. As I glanced at him, looking him up and down, I found myself suitably impressed. I had no doubt the man could chuck people out of the bar.
Brawn, he had. That much was clear. He only stood five eight, but his biceps were works of art, and his thighs looked strong enough to crack a skull. His hair, jet black with a white streak, was held back in a thick ponytail, hitting about midshoulder. It set off eyes as green as my sister Delilah’s. He looked to be around his midthirties, but if he was Supe, who knew how old he really was?
And that was the second thing: Supe, he was. I could tell right off that he wasn’t human. This dude had some seriously powerful energy rolling off him. Even I, about as headblind as you could get for someone half-Fae, could feel it.
“How do you do? I’m Menolly D’Artigo. And you are . . .?” I stood and walked around the desk. Compared to my five one, he seemed tall. But I could take him out without blinking an eye. One of the perks of being a vampire: exceptional strength that belied any lack of visible force. Motioning him to a chair, I hopped up to sit on the corner of my desk.
“Derrick. Derrick Means.” He took the chair and leaned back, eyeing me closely. “You
look
like a vamp,” he said.
look
like a vamp,” he said.
I blinked. Nobody had ever said that to my face, but what the hell. He didn’t sound like he was insulting me.
“Good. Because that’s what I am, and anybody that works for me has to not only tolerate it, but actually
accept
the fact. What about you?”
accept
the fact. What about you?”
He arched an eyebrow and folded his arms. “I’m one of the Badger People. I’m a friend of Katrina’s. She said you might be open to me applying for the job, even though you’re a vamp. Said you hired a werewolf before.”
Badger People?
So they’d moved into the city now, too?
So they’d moved into the city now, too?
But I understood why he might be wary. Weres and vamps didn’t always get along. However, I wasn’t just
any
vamp—I was half-Fae as well as half-human. And Katrina was a friend. She was a werewolf who had started to fall for my former bartender before he ended up having to leave Earthside for Otherworld to protect his sister.
any
vamp—I was half-Fae as well as half-human. And Katrina was a friend. She was a werewolf who had started to fall for my former bartender before he ended up having to leave Earthside for Otherworld to protect his sister.
I frowned. I’d never met anyone from the badger tribes before and had very little clue what they were like, in general. Though if he matched his namesake creature, Derrick wouldn’t have any hesitation about tossing problem people out on their asses.
“Tell me about your past experience. And are you part of a clan or a loner?”
“Used to be in a clan, until I decided to hit the city and see what life here is all about. I like Seattle, but there’s not much chance to interact with my family since I moved here. We keep in touch via e-mail, but I don’t get to see them much.” He let out a long sigh that sounded suspiciously like a huff and relaxed back into the chair.
“And your experience?”
“I’ve got fifteen years bartending under my belt, I double as a bouncer no problem, and I’ve never been fired.” He handed me a piece of paper. To my surprise, it was a résumé. A detailed résumé. Usually people just came in and asked for a job. Or at best, an application.
“Why do you want to work at the Wayfarer?” I glanced over his CV. Everything seemed in order. No immediate alarm bells going off in my gut.
“Because I need a job. You need a bartender. And I figure you won’t get in my face about taking off the nights of the full moon.” He leaned forward. “I’m good at what I do, I’m loyal, and I’ll be here, sober, whenever you call. I don’t hit on the women—at least not on duty. If you want to call some of my references, the numbers are there.”
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