Blood Wyne (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #9)

Blood Wyne (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #9) Page 1

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 chal enge. 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, especial y 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 gril , 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 stil 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, dol ? 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 ful on the mouth. I savored my golden goddess’s lips as she set off a ricochet of desire that shockwaved through my body. Al 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.

“Bad timing.” I glanced up at her rueful y. “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 ful -

blooded humans. Chrysandra had gotten the hang of working around Supes of al 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 usual y 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—ful -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.

“I never do,” she whispered softly, then fol owed 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, ful 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 ful throttle toward us; we were coming up on the end of the year, and I needed to do a ful 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 technical y 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. Especial y 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 skul . 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 real y was?

And that was the second thing: Supe, he was. I could tel right off that he wasn’t human. This dude had some seriously powerful energy rol ing off him. Even I, about as headblind as you could get for someone half-Fae, could feel it.

“How do you do? I’m Menol y D’Artigo. And you are . . .?” I stood and walked around the desk.

Compared to my five one, he seemed tal . 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.

I blinked. Nobody had ever said that to my face, but what the hel . 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 actual y 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?

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 wel as half-human. And Katrina was a friend. She was a werewolf who had started to fal 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.

“Tel 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 al 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. Usual y 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 bel s 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 ful moon.” He leaned forward. “I’m good at what I do, I’m loyal, and I’l be here, sober, whenever you cal . I don’t hit on the women—at least not on duty. If you want to cal some of my references, the numbers are there.”

I stared at the list. Applegate’s Bar, Wyson’s Pub, the Okinofo Lounge . . . not upscale bars but not seedy dives, either. They were solid taverns with good clientele. I let out a long breath and glanced up at him. “Wait out front in one of the booths.”

After he nodded and swaggered out of the office, I put in a few cal s. Nobody had anything bad to say about him, and several of the bars praised him, though I could feel a definite tension there.

But that was easy: I chalked it up to FBHs dealing with Supes. Making my decision, I headed out front.

Derrick was nursing a Diet Coke.

I slid into the seat across from him. “You drink? Do drugs?”

He shook his head. “Drink beer and Scotch occasional y, but never on duty. Drugs and Badger People aren’t a good mix. We have a temper, I am the first to admit it. I know my limits.”

“Okay, here’s the deal.” I motioned at the bar. “I need somebody and I need him now. So if you can start this week, preferably tonight, so much the better. Your shift wil be four P.M. until two A.M., but you may need to come in to help with inventory at times during the day. You’l need to be on cal —there are nights when I have to be gone, and I can’t always predict when that’s going to be. So far so good?”

He nodded. “I like to work. I don’t mind picking up extra shifts. I send what I don’t need home to help my mother raise my brothers and sisters.”

That made me feel even better about hiring him. “Good man. I can pay you fifteen dol ars an hour to start. If you’re as experienced as you seem to be, and you last ninety days, I’l raise that to seventeen. The main thing you need to remember: I’m the boss, you do what I say while you’re here, and you keep your nose clean. What do you think? Want the job or not?”

He raised his glass in salute. “Here’s looking at you, boss.”

At least one of my problems was solved. But it didn’t take long for another to rear its head. As I was showing Derrick around the bar, watching how he handled the bottles and—suitably impressed—how he handled customers, the door opened and Chase Johnson swaggered in.

My sister Delilah’s ex-lover, a cop who was as good as family by now, Chase dressed in Armani and smel ed like a perpetual taco stand. He was also one damned fine detective.

After al the arguments we’d been through, I had to give him props. He’d managed to keep it together in situations that would drive the average FBH wacko. Oh yeah. One other little tidbit: Chase also was as good as immortal, at least in human terms. He’d been given the Nectar of Life in order to save his life, and that put him a long leg up on the rest of FBHs.

He glanced at Derrick and nodded, giving me a quizzical look.

“This is Chase Johnson, detective and friend of the business. Close to being family. Treat him right.”

Derrick nodded. “Nice to meet you, Detective.”

“Chase, this is Derrick—my new bartender. Derrick, give us a few minutes alone. Chase has something to talk to me about. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, though I wish this were just a social cal .” He shook hands with Derrick, then fol owed me to a booth. “Werewolf?”

“Badger People. Werebadger.”

“Sheesh—is there a Were class for every animal on the planet?” Chase snorted and rubbed one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

“Just about. What is it, Johnson?”

“Trouble. You have the time to take a little ride with me to headquarters? Vampire business. I think.” He let out a long sigh.

Hel . Vampire business was so not what I wanted to hear because when Chase came cal ing about vampires, it usual y meant somebody was dead. Usual y murdered. There’d been an upswing in nocturnal activity lately, but since I was no longer privy to the scuttlebutt going around Vampires Anonymous—a support group for vamps new to the life, run by vampire and former friend Wade Stevens—it was harder for me to ferret out secrets. I had to rely on what Sassy Branson told me, but she was growing more erratic every day. I’d been seriously considering taking my “daughter” Erin out of the older vampire’s care.