Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I) (2 page)

He stared at the phone. If Green had been in
direct contact with Cassandra Hayes, she would come sniffing around
if they were working together on a case.

As if Cassandra Hayes possessed some kind of
witchy powers to go along with her hunting skills, the phone buzzed
and her number and name flashed on the screen. He stared at the
phone willing it to stop. No such luck.

He shouldn't answer it. Really, he shouldn't.
He slid his thumb over 'accept', and said, "Hello." Aye, he was an
eejit
.
He never did listen to his voice of reason.

"Mr. Green?" Deep sultry overtones laced the
woman's words. Too bad he knew it was connected to a lethal killer
of his kind. She called him Mr. Green, which meant she wasn't on a
first name basis with the guy lying at his feet. Maybe she didn't
know Mr. Green personally.

"Yes," he answered her. He'd keep it short
and sweet with the answers and perhaps she wouldn't pick up on his
accent, assuming Mr. Green didn't have an Irish lilt. No matter how
long he'd been living in the states—and it had been over a century
now—he didn't quite lose the accent. Words crept into his
conversations like a red flag confirming where he once hailed.
Besides, why try to change it when the lasses fancied the
accent?

"When I didn't hear back from you," she said,
"I believed the worse. It's been two days."

Bly me, the woman's voice did things to him.
Sure she was reprimanding him…well, reprimanding Mr. Green anyway,
but the throaty resonance of her voice was a mix of
I want to
kill you
, but only after
I hug you
. Kind of turned him
on, and he couldn't help but wonder what this lass looked like.

He'd met hunters from the Hayes clan, some
friendly, and a few not so much. They all seemed to possess
likeable features, some bordering on beautiful. Even the males of
the clan had a certain rugged beauty—if you were into that kind of
thing. The Hayes clan always seemed to have those green cat-like
eyes that missed nothing. He had a hunch this sultry-voice
temptress possessed such an attribute, too.

"Did you catch the prey responsible for the
kidnappings?" she asked. "And just to let you know, I didn't
appreciate you going at this alone. You were supposed to wait for
me." When he didn't answer she spoke again, "Mr. Green, are you
still there?"

"I'm here."

"Then please, tell me you caught the
vamp."

So, Cassandra and Gerard are after the
same preternatural being I want to find
, Tremayne thought to
himself. However, she probably wouldn't warm to the idea they work
together.

"Mr. Green?"

"Well…" he hedged. Obviously, Mr. Green
hadn't hired Cassandra Hayes. They were a team or at least were
supposed to be. What should he say? If he went with
'no'
,
she might want to meet up with him, but if he said,
'yes'
and the
prey
they hunted remained on the loose, well...
she'd know soon enough if another young man went missing, or if the
real Mr. Green's body ended up at the morgue.

He glanced at Mr. Green and his missing
throat. Whatever being did this had no qualms taking another life.
This was not its first kill and most likely would not be its last.
He wanted to know what they were hunting and why it was out to pin
the crime on him. "Not yet," he finally said.

"Not yet?" Her voice hitched, revealing her
impatience with Mr. Green. He could relate to her frustration with
the guy. "You texted me that you had the vamp in your sights."

"Uh…about that…"

"Mr. Green, you either had him in your sights
or you did not. In your message, you also told me you had it
handled."

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he hadn't
answered the phone. The last thing he needed at Eternal Bliss was
to have a Hayes snooping around his pub. He catered to humans, but
he also had quite a few preternatural beings that frequented his
place. A hunter was bad for business, far worse than finding a dead
guy in the alleyway at his backdoor.

She remained silent for a long measured few
seconds, but he knew she remained on the line, probably still
debating if she should meet-up with him after all. "Where are you?"
she finally asked the dreaded question. "We need to talk – in
person."

And
there it was. He closed his eyes
and silently cursed. "That won't be necessary," he informed
her.

"You told me where you first spotted the
vamp, so Eternal Bliss tonight at eight," she countered.

He removed the mobile from his ear and stared
at it, hoping he hadn't heard her rattle off his pub as a meeting
place to discuss preternatural business. "What the—" He mouthed,
but didn't finish the thought. He placed the phone back to his ear.
"Why at Eternal Bliss?"

"We have to start somewhere, Mr. Green. Our
informant said the vamp frequents the bar."

Lovely. How was she to meet Mr. Green in his
condition? He glanced at the body again. Mr. Green's mouth hung
open as if he had a few words he'd like to add on the subject.
Yeah, stand in line,
boyo
.

Mr. Green in life had been an average height
male with light hair and hazel eyes – according to his driver's
license, and from what he could tell the hair color was at least
spot on. No dye job here. He could never hope to pass as the man's
twin with him being over six foot, and possessing blue eyes and
dark hair.

"What do you look like?" Cassandra asked in
the next breath.

"What?" Had he heard her correctly? He did
like a lass who didn't keep him guessing.

"We've never met, Mr. Green. How am I to know
who you are? A description would be nice."

His lips curved. "You can't miss me. I'll be
the bloke manning the bar at Eternal Bliss." He could do this. He'd
keep it simple and stay as close to the truth as possible. He'd
meet with her, and convince her he could handle this case
alone.

"What do you mean you'll be manning the
bar?"

"I'm undercover, remember?"

"Oh…" There was a long pause and he held his
breath. "Yes, of course," she finally said, and he breathed a sigh
of relief.

"I answer to the name Tremayne Greer," he
added and hoped he hadn't pushed his luck. He'd been given the name
Tremayne of Graystone at birth. He'd used the name Graystone as a
sir name through the centuries now and again, but in the
21
^st
century and in the Hamptons, he went by Tremayne
Greer, to those who didn't know him personally. Living centuries,
he had to reinvent himself every so often. Most preternatural
beings had to do the same thing. It was no big deal. The GOJ
handled all the necessary paper work.

"All right," she said. "I'll see you at
eight, Mr. Greer." She ended the call, which proved a relief.

He decided he'd keep Mr. Green's phone for a
while and slipped it into his pocket. He then focused on the real
Mr. Green. He needed more information about the bloke and pronto.
He'd give his cousin a call, but first things first. He had to
dispose of the body before any of his employees came out back
looking for him, and especially before Cassandra Hayes showed up
for their date with destiny.

Chapter Two

Cassandra stared at her cell phone with a
frown. The call with Mr. Green proved stranger than normal. The man
did like the cloak and dagger routine, but she wished he'd cut it
out. They needed to catch the vamp that was luring young males to
their death.

This was her first hunt without her brothers
tagging along and she needed this kill to prove she could organize
a hunt without their guidance. This wasn't the bureaus rules but
her overprotective brothers' stipulations since their parents were
working overseas, and had been for the last few years. Sexist to
the extreme since she didn't see her brothers shadowing each other,
but how do you argue with brotherly love and devotion?

She arrived in the Hamptons two days ago. She
was supposed to meet with Green, make their plans, then stake and
dust their target, but for some reason Green decided he'd go out in
the field alone. It really pissed her off he hadn't followed
orders. She needed to sit the man down and set him straight before
he ended up being one of the victims.

Her cell phone buzzed as Wade's name flashed
on the screen. She wondered how long it would take before one of
her three brothers checked up on her. Axel was the eldest, then
Derek who was only nine months her senior, and then there was Wade,
the baby of the family. He'd given her the Intel on this run. "Hi,
Waddel." He hated his full name their parents had given him, but of
course she and her brothers couldn't help but tease him.

"Don't try to be cute, Cass," he
grumbled.

"Can't help it. It's in the genes." She
chuckled as she left her hotel room and strode toward her rental
car, intent on heading for Eternal Bliss. The pub was located near
the wharf, not a place where the hottie-tottie frequented. The
Hamptons were full of those, but Eternal Bliss' clientele catered
to the working class folks or so she'd heard. She'd feel right at
home in the pub, but then she'd also heard, preternatural beings
frequented the place too.

"Did you call for a reason?" she asked Wade,
already knowing the real reason behind the call. He was checking up
on her.

"Just wondering how goes the hunting?"

"There's been a slight setback," she told
him. "The hunter you set me up with decided to go all secretive and
take care of business himself. He screwed up and lost the vamp we
were hunting. Now I have to see if I can fix it before another
victim is found."

"Sorry about that," Wade said. "I never
worked with the guy. He's from one of the oversea branches. Maybe
the reason he's here. He's screwed up back home and now their
trying to dump his sorry arse on us."

"We'll see. I'm meeting with him in an hour.
If you hear anything else about the case, ring me with the
info."

"Will do. Be safe."

"Be safe," she said. They never said goodbye.
Goodbye was final and in their business that meant a dirt bed
six-feet under. Ringing off with,
be safe
gave hope you'd
see the person again.

She slipped into her car and closed the door,
shutting out the cold breeze biting through her jacket. The
Hamptons were located in the eastern part of Long Island, New York
with the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the Long Island Sound on
the other. The Hamptons were popular with the rich and famous of
New York, who often spent their summers here, but this was December
and the swarm of families with summer homes had packed up and gone
home long before now, and with them the warm weather, it would
seem.

The Hamptons had a maritime climate
influenced by the Atlantic Ocean. Summers were warm and wet, while
the winters were cold and wet. She might even see some snow while
she was here.

She loved the ocean, lived no more than ten
minutes away from the water back home, but that was across country
in California, where surfing in the early morning proved her
favorite pastime, and with California's weather, she could indulge
almost anytime of the year.

She pulled down her visor and glanced in the
mirror. "I'd scare the dead," she told her reflection. Her mahogany
colored hair looked like an unruly mess of windblown waves. She
should have taken the time to blow dry it this morning and braid
it.

She grabbed her purse and fished through the
contents until she found two pencils. Not exactly beautiful hair
adornments, but they'd work miracles in holding a bun in place. She
scooped her hair off her neck and wrapped it into a coil,
strategically placing the pencils through the bun. She glanced in
the mirror again. "Much better," she said with a nod.

She started the vehicle and headed toward
Eternal Bliss. Mr. Green or Tremayne Greer as he now wanted to be
called, better have a good explanation why he went radio silent for
two days and then had the audacity to lose their target.

Chapter Three

The night had just begun but Eternal Bliss
already hopped with humans sharing a pint with a friend, and the
supernatural life didn't shy away either from ordering a drink or
two. Tremayne glanced toward the table on the left near the
bandstand, where humans having a laugh were gathered around a
table. They were locals and frequented the pub often. His gaze then
leveled on the Grim Sith, a vamp from a Scotland sept, who was
seated at the end of the bar and sipping a special blend of wine
and blood. A woman with dark hair sat down next to him. Pretty
features, nice complexion and light eyes – he'd wager she was of
Italian descent. Not preternatural in nature, but he knew she was a
Necromancer. The couple was visiting from Boston, a get away of
sorts after taking down the 'Soul Taker'. The Necromancer still
looked tired. The job must have taken a toll on her.

Working at the pub, he learned to spot who
was human and who wasn't, but he'd been wrong on occasion, too.
Preternatural beings could blend in with the humans as long as they
didn't fang-out, go glowy-eyed like a
Light Bright
, or any
other crapola like that. He knew how to mask his Otherworldly
attributes, and doubted Cassandra Hayes would pick up the vampire
vibe from him unless he decided to nibble on her neck. His lips
curved at the thought. If she looked as hot as her voice sounded,
he might want to. Who knows, she might even let him.

He rolled his eyes at where his thoughts had
taken him. The woman was a born and bred hunter. If he nibbled,
he'd have to expect a nice stake with his name carved on it, and
personally delivered by the hunter herself.

He wiped down the countertop with one of the
throwaway hygienic cloths he kept under the counter. He may not
catch any of the human viruses but his employees weren't all
preternatural beings.