The Real Werewives Of Vampire County Part 49

Heather's normally warm brown eyes now glittered gold, and she said nothing while das.h.i.+ng across the tarmac with supernatural speed to reach the ball. The two women played a silent game, daring each other with sharp, cutting movements, each working to outdo the other.

Sweat freely dripped down their bodies, the world narrowing to one compet.i.tive moment, every action and reaction calculated to win the point and end the game. Ca.s.sandra hit the ball high and deep into Heather's court, forcing her to exercise extra speed and leap unnaturally high to reach it.

With a rush, Heather dashed forward to meet the lob, using an overhead smash to gain the point and end the game.

"Don't push too hard, Ca.s.sie," Heather said, tossing her racket aside with a clatter and rubbing the sweat off her brow with her arm. "You and Gabriel aren't the only voices in the pack."

Ca.s.sandra and Alexis watched with narrowed eyes as Heather spun on her heel and left the court, leaving them behind.

Ca.s.sandra sipped at the mai tai Alexis had prepared for her, crossing her legs at the ankles as she relaxed in the kitchen. They'd waited a few minutes before they followed Heather inside, leaving her alone as she stalked off to one of the guest bedrooms to cool down and shower in peace.

"You're not worried about what she said, are you?"

"No," Ca.s.sandra replied, not meeting Alexis's questioning gaze. "Not worried. Concerned. Vera and Heather both make good points, but I don't think now is the time to tell Tiffany that we don't want her around or that we won't be turning her into one of us. It might be better if we distance ourselves instead."

Alexis pulled her towel from around her neck and dabbed at her forehead and cheeks before picking up her own drink and leaning against the marble countertop, taking a sip before answering.

"I'm not sure if Tiffany will accept that. Do you think Gabriel will ever let one of us contract or turn her?"

"Honestly? No."

Alexis paused in lifting her drink back to her lips, brow c.o.c.ked. "And do you think she'll accept that?"

Ca.s.sandra shook her head, setting her drink down and pus.h.i.+ng it away. The two women said nothing for a time, the silence between them growing heavy.

s.h.i.+fting her weight and looking away, Alexis broke the silence by turning around and busying herself with tidying the kitchen counters, even though the maid and the cook had already done so earlier in the day. In her Juicy shorts and Nikes with sparkling pink swooshes, she didn't look like much of a domestic, but she did her best impression as she banged cabinets and put the drink mixes away.

"We can't trust her, you know," Alexis said, keeping her back to Ca.s.sandra as she reached up into one of the cabinets to adjust some of the dishes.

"I know."

"You can't let her go around thinking she's still welcome, either. One of us is going to have to tell her."

Ca.s.sandra harrumphed, a low growl rumbling in her throat. Alexis was careful not to meet her gaze, keeping her head down and her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach when she turned around.

"Maybe we should do it together. We can tell her to come over to Tiffany's later, and we can sit down as a group and discuss it like civilized people. If we keep Vera out of it, maybe she'll even listen to us."

Ca.s.sandra's eyes flashed gold, matching her eye shadow, and her lip lifted in a silent snarl before she huffed out a breath of air and let fallen lids obscure her gaze. "I'm not sure if that's an option. If we tell her, she might react badly. Go back to her husband, maybe."

"If we don't tell her," Alexis countered, "she might get it into her head that she still has a chance at becoming one of the pack, and end up doing something foolish. Worse, one of the boys might go along with it, and then where will we be? You saw how they were looking at her last night and how she had them wrapped around her fingers at the party. We can't take the chance."

"No, I suppose not."

Alexis tossed her towel down on the counter before levering herself up to sit on it, reaching for her drink again. "If we tell her that we'll still be her friends, but gradually work our way out of her life and not invite her to all of the parties, maybe she won't take it quite so hard. We'll be safe, she'll be screwed, and we can all get on with our lives."

Ca.s.sandra laughed, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders. "If she accepts it as easy as that, I'd be very surprised. I suppose we can give it a shot. Maybe after enough time pa.s.ses, Gabriel will change his mind. For now, I'm sure Heather can keep her entertained when we're not around."

Heather walked in, now dressed in jeans and a Gucci T-s.h.i.+rt, rubbing the towel through her hair. "Doubtful. I don't like it."

"We didn't expect you would," Alexis said, pus.h.i.+ng a third drink down the smooth countertop. Heather caught it easily and took a deep pull. "But I'm sure you'll agree it's all for the best."

Heather downed half the drink in a go, earning raised brows and concerned looks from the other two ladies. She set the gla.s.s down with a clack, nearly breaking it.

"No, I don't like it. But it'll have to do."

The two nodded and smiled, glad to hear she agreed. Until she added a quiet "for now" under her breath.

CHAPTER 11.

Live by the gun, die by the gun.

-Tupac Shakur "I have something you should see." Ca.s.sandra harrumphed as she dug through her closet, looking for a pair of shoes to wear, her cell phone tucked to her ear. "Vera, I know you just want to help, but you need to lay off. We're handling this."

"I have proof this time."

Ca.s.sandra paused, one foot halfway into her Bottega Veneta platform wedge sandals. She was already irritated at Vera for tricking her into picking up by calling from an unfamiliar number-her husband's office line-after calls from her cell went unanswered. Vera was quick to fill the silence, the urgency in her tone not feigned in the least.

"She's one of them, Ca.s.sie. Be careful."

"We're all meeting at Heather's house in two hours. Bring whatever you found."

"I'll be there."

"Vera-"

"Don't say it. I know. I'll behave myself."

Ca.s.sandra's tone was icy, commanding, and brooked no refusal. "See that you do. Another slip like the one you made at dinner, and I'll personally see to it that there's nothing left when the police come to pick you up for harming a human outside of a contract."

Vera was met with the click of a dial tone before she could reply.

Though a trifle peeved at being hung up on, Vera tossed the cordless phone she'd borrowed from her husband's office onto the bed and gathered the printouts of articles she'd found on the Internet. She was rather proud of the glossy quality her husband's printer had spit out, showing Tiffany on the edge of a pack of scruffy-looking hunters with a gun in her hand and a White Hat pin prominently tacked to the lapel of what looked like a knockoff Ralph Lauren blazer.

So tacky.

Alexis slowly exhaled, her eyes closed, one hand palm up, the other down, resting them on her folded legs. The taste of incense was heavy on the air, and the soft instrumental music and burbling water from a nearby fountain a.s.sisted her to find her center.

Since it had been cut short, and tensions had been high the entire time, the tennis match hadn't helped her to work off the excess supernatural energy of her second nature as it normally would have. With all of the stress from Vera and Tiffany's sniping and fighting, she had felt it necessary to call in an emergency session with her private yoga instructor. It took some pleading and persuading, but he had eventually conceded, and cancelled one of his morning appointments for her.

The meditation wasn't doing much to calm her. She was certain there must be something she was doing wrong-but she didn't dare speak, knowing her yogi would instruct her if he determined she was not properly following the path of Ashtanga Yoga to serenity and enlightenment. Really, the only reason she was interested in continuing the lessons was because the instructor was one of those hard-bodied men who was Alpha enough to get her to obey his instructions without question, and because the meditation did, to some degree, help her calm herself and maintain greater control over her inner beast.

"Remember to breathe," her yogi said, pressing his hand into her lower back to force her to correct her posture.

With a slight nod, she took in the scent of sandalwood and musk, taking it through her mouth instead of her nose despite the taste it left on her tongue. She didn't want to destroy her sense of smell for the rest of the day.

If there was a hunt, she might need it later.

Heather rushed about her home, getting her maid to tidy the house before sending her on an errand so the woman wouldn't become suspicious or overhear the conversation once the other werewives and Tiffany arrived. She made sure she had plenty of alcohol on hand-she thought they might need it once the news was given.

She wasn't looking forward to telling Ca.s.sandra that she'd stopped at the courthouse that morning to file the signed and notarized papers Tiffany had forgotten and left behind at dinner last night.

Tiffany had everything she intended to bring with her to Heather's house spread out on her bed.

She wasn't stupid. She knew Ca.s.sandra was reconsidering allowing her into the pack after all that Vera had said. The offer to meet again at Heather's was what tipped her off. Neutral ground; a place she would hesitate to cause a scene, because the property belonged to a friend.

Tiffany had given careful thought to what she needed to bring with her, and felt that the netbook computer to play a video on, the photographs, and the piece of jewelry she'd stolen from Vera when the ladies left their clothing behind in the woods at Alexis's party would serve her purposes admirably.

Though they had never said as much, the Diamondfangs had always worked under the radar of the press and the hunters, working through society's elite. Its members would never want to be outed as real monsters lurking under the faades of ruthless businessmen and women-but now Tiffany knew who most of them were, and had the pictures and dossiers to prove their connections.

She would get what she wanted, or the werewives would be exposed to the world for the b.i.t.c.hes they were.

Vera arrived early, papers tucked under her arm in a neat leather portfolio she'd also borrowed from her husband's office. Heather was surprised to see her, but didn't question it, figuring that it would most likely be for the best once she delivered her news. That way she could be present to deflect any immediate attack Vera might attempt.

Alexis was next, breezing inside with a calm, collected air and trailing the scent of incense behind her. The other girls wrinkled their noses at the stink, but she ignored them, dropping into the plush cus.h.i.+ons of a couch. She kicked off her embossed leather Alaia sandals and swung her legs up onto the couch, lounging comfortably. Ca.s.sandra was not far behind, arriving only fifteen minutes after the scheduled meeting time. She drew off her Versace sungla.s.ses once she was inside and tossed her Yves Saint Laurent purse on the couch next to Alexis, putting her hands on her hips.

"Hmph. She's planning to be fas.h.i.+onably late again, I see."

"She'll be here soon," Heather said, waggling her BlackBerry. "She sent me a text that she was running behind. Had to pick something up on the way, she said."

Vera frowned, stalking over to a chair that gave her a good vantage of the rest of the room, as well as the front door, so she'd know the moment Tiffany arrived. Ca.s.sandra huffed and toyed with a few strands of her hair, giving the other girls a hint as to just how peeved she was by the whole situation.

Alexis gestured her over, tucking in her legs to make room. "Come on, Ca.s.sie. Come sit and relax. Breathe, darling. My instructor tells me that controlling your breathing is essential in learning how to control your life force. Or something like that."

The other girls stared at her blankly.

"What?" she said, frowning at the looks they were giving her. "It's part of the road to spiritual development. That's very important, you know."

"Oh, whatever," Ca.s.sandra said, rolling her eyes before tucking her skirt under her and settling primly on the edge of the cus.h.i.+ons. "Heather, be a love and get the drinks started, would you? I have the feeling we're all going to need them before this is over."

By the time Heather returned with the drinks, Tiffany was just pulling into the driveway. The other girls feigned indifference, but the amber glow to their irises and tension in the set of their shoulders gave them away. Tiffany brought a Claire Chase messenger bag in addition to her purse, tucking the strap over her shoulder before striding with her head held high to meet with the werewives inside.

Heather met her at the door, showing her into the room and seating her as far as was polite from Vera as was possible. The two ladies glared daggers at each other, but were civil enough to exchange tight nods, never taking their eyes off one another.

"Well," Tiffany said, pausing to sip at the Long Island iced tea-heavy on the rum-that Heather had pushed into her hand, "now that I'm here, I'm not sure where to begin."

Ca.s.sandra cleared her throat. "Tiffany, you know that we all like spending time with you and having you here-"

"All of you?"

Vera smirked at Tiffany's pointed look, her lip gloss adding an extra sparkle to that killer smile.

"You know what I mean. Now, you know what we are. By your own admission, you've known for a while. While we certainly appreciate your desire to join us, I'm sure you can understand why we might be hesitant to let someone with your ... background ... join our ranks."

Tiffany turned her disapproving look from Vera to Ca.s.sandra, her frown deepening. Ca.s.sandra didn't give, meeting her gaze without flinching, and holding it as an uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. Tiffany would neither acknowledge nor deny that she was a threat, while Ca.s.sandra wouldn't let her ignore the possibility any longer.

While their bodies tensed and gazes narrowed, Alexis sat up, and Heather chewed on her lower lip as the two had their stare down.

As it seemed neither was willing to break the silence and put an end to the silent contest of wills, Vera cut in by dropping her file folder on the coffee table with a crack sharp enough to draw all eyes.

"I believe what she's trying to say is, your past history does not make you a suitable candidate for our pack."

Tiffany ground her teeth, setting her drink aside with some care and leaning forward in her seat to point an accusatory finger at Vera. "You don't know the first thing about me, Vera, and don't pretend otherwise. None of you, not even Heather, knows me well enough to make that kind of a.s.sumption."

"Oh really?" Vera purred. "Then, by all means, enlighten us about these."

With that, Vera opened the file and spread the newspaper articles and accompanying photographs over the coffee table for all to see.

The headlines of the articles screamed about the injustices and property damage caused by illegal battles between humans and Others. The anti-Other groups had picketed Other-sympathetic businesses, destroyed entire buildings, and killed several vampires and werewolves without valid warrants. Interspersed with the articles were pictures. Irrefutable pictures of Tiffany showing her allegiance as a White Hat, with the trademark white cowboy hat pin attached to her lapel in every one.

Protest marches. Riots. One even showed her with several other White Hats on the run from police dressed in full riot gear, a flaming building in the background. Surrounded by others like her, all wearing the same pins or logo emblazoned on their s.h.i.+rts.

Tiffany whitened under the bronze s.h.i.+mmer of her foundation, her lips pressed into a thin line as all eyes turned to her.

CHAPTER 12.

Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.

-Kurt Cobain "I've said before that I've made mistakes," Tiffany said, avoiding the accusatory looks from the rest of the ladies by staring down at the photos spread on the table in front of her. Heather was particularly incensed, her balled fists and clenched teeth betraying her raw anger and hurt. "I have no good excuse for those pictures. They were taken while I was still married to my husband-"

"So you admit you hunted us before?" Vera's tone was triumphant and poisonously sweet, her nail polish fracturing as the tips of her fingers grew into claws.

Tiffany looked up and met Vera's yellow eyes with her own icy blue ones, baring her teeth in the semblance of a smile. Slowly, deliberately, she reached down to the messenger bag at her feet. The others tensed, ready to react if she pulled a weapon-but all she withdrew was a tiny laptop.

"Vera, I've said a number of times already that I haven't partic.i.p.ated in that lifestyle for quite a while. Though I suppose that's not entirely true."

As Tiffany spoke, she booted up the netbook, searching for a file. Though wary, the other women watched her without interrupting, four pairs of glowing amber irises focused with single-minded intensity on her every move.

"You see, I realized early on that you were going to make things difficult for me. I prepared for this eventuality the only way I knew how-using skills I earned while working with my ex-husband. I do want to caution you all that this is not the only copy, and that if something happens to me or you do not reconsider your actions and my future place in your pack, this video will be uploaded onto YouTube and forwarded to every TV station in the country."

Though that last statement caused some confusion, in moments, all four of the werewives were on their feet, growling and snarling in rage. The video quality was far from that of a high-definition movie, and the playback of the audio was choppy, but there was no mistaking Vera, Ca.s.sandra, Alexis, or Heather's faces taken from some nearby vantage point in the trees-or their s.h.i.+fts in the woods outside of Alexis's home into werewolves.

They all watched, stunned, silent, as their banter was captured on film, as was their undressing and their change into their inner beasts. Tiffany didn't have to tell them what a danger this video posed to them. They knew. To a one, they knew that they could be connected to their husbands, some of the richest and most influential businessmen in the state-if not the country-and that it could bring the livelihoods of their families and fellow pack members cras.h.i.+ng down around them if it ever went public. Ca.s.sandra in particular went cold, considering her husband, who was running for office next term, would likely flay her and the other werewives alive if he ever caught wind of the existence of that video.

After the wolves had rushed off into the woods to play, it showed close-ups of the clothing and jewelry left behind by the women, then faded to black. As soon as it ended, Tiffany snapped the netbook shut and tucked it back in her bag, ignoring the bared fangs, the glowing eyes, the twitching claws, and the deep rumbles emanating from their chests. Crossing her legs and folding her hands primly in her lap, she raised her chin and regarded Ca.s.sandra expectantly.

Heather was the one who spoke first, her voice deep and guttural as she fought to get a handle on her rage.