Paranormals Never Wear Plaid

  Paranormals Never Wear Plaid

  Jennifer Hilt

  Mister Rochester Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1. Gary

  2. Rose

  3. Gary

  4. Rose

  5. Gary

  6. Rose

  7. Gary

  8. Rose

  9. Gary

  10. Rose

  11. Gary

  12. Rose

  13. Gary

  14. Gary

  15. Rose

  Also by Jennifer Hilt

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer Hilt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Gary may come looking for you if you violate these laws.

  Cover Design: Bookin It Designs

  For the fans of Gary way back when

  1

  Gary

  On a dark late-November Friday morning in Icy Cap, Alaska, Gary the ghoul sat in a too-short office chair while his boss paced before him. John Dall, a mid-level demon, was an excellent administrator. Gary respected his intelligence and work ethic. If Dall hadn’t been quite so obsessed with conspiracy theories, Gary might have dreaded being called into his office less.

  “Face it. You and me, we’re not like those shifters. They always got their noses up each other’s assholes.” Dall paused, glanced down at his new office carpet, and fingered his horns thoughtfully while he considered Gary. His hairline receded right where his horns sprouted, making the two sharp points even more noticeable. Gary was relieved when his boss gave up his attempts at a comb-over. It gave the shifters less to snicker about behind Dall’s back.

  What Dall said was true. Paranormal branches of law enforcement tended to be made up of shifters. Most fae, vampires, and lesser demons preferred desk jobs.

  Dall crouched, his fingers lightly tracing the carpet’s surface. “Does this look wrinkled to you?”

  “Appears firm and flat to me, sir,” Gary offered. Dall’s office carpet had to be replaced regularly due to his frequent pacing. “What do you think of the new glue?”

  His boss’s gray-toothed smile brightened as he returned to pacing. “We’ll see how it holds up. The carpet installers told me it was the first time someone supplied their own glue. What’d you put in there?”

  “Taxidermy trade secret.” Gary raised his hands apologetically.

  Dall frowned. “Next year’s budget hasn’t been settled yet. Which means I might have to cut staff. As the latest hire, you’re on the block. You don’t complain about the temperature or get all horny over a full moon. But I can keep you around if I can justify the expense. Find this asshole assassin Abner.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dall’s pacing was making Gary antsy. He had work to do—if he could get out of this office. He stood, glad the carpet didn’t flex under his feet.

  “If something goes wrong, my boss will be looking for a scapegoat, on top of trimming my budget,” Dall continued. “And I’m not going to be the one handed over for alien probing.” He waved Gary out of the office, muttering about crop circles.

  Gary left, rubbing the back of his neck. Shit. The previous month, he’d single-handedly broken up a drug-dealing ice bear shifter ring. The time he’d spent pulling bear teeth out of his knuckles afterward was alone considerable. Now he was being given a task that, based on Abner’s record, seemed nearly impossible. If he succeeded, he got to keep his job and his newfound sense of belonging. If he failed, all he had to look forward to was death and taxidermy.

  Gary was a special case in an already strange species. He had no family left and, until recently, few friends. Until a year ago, he’d lived mostly as an outcast. All it had taken was a near-death experience and a lifesaving infusion of vampire blood to change that and throw his world into chaos. Neither Gary nor Icy Cap was the same.

  Gary dressed like the famous western lawmen of over a hundred years ago: button-down shirt, Wranglers, boots. He skipped the hat. If asked, he said it was because there was no point in wearing a cowboy hat in the Arctic. This was true. But the real reason was, he didn’t feel he could pull it off.

  Ghouls were humanoid scavengers that sprang up during worldwide famines generations ago. Their incredibly slow metabolisms meant they grew slowly. Their body odor meant exclusivity was more than a lifestyle choice. A special soap his friend Liv created had removed the telltale ghoul aromas the rest of the paranorm and human communities objected to. It worked great, but often he woke up from a nightmare that he was still just a ghoul.

  Physically he was not the same ghoul he’d been a year ago, but mentally, to a great extent, he was still just Gary. With vamp blood humming inside him, he looked to be in his late twenties, but he was nearly three times that age. And he sometimes felt older than that.

  Gary didn’t need to drink blood or avoid sunlight after the vamp infusion. He did, however, need to get fucked. Quite badly. His normally low ghoul libido was shattered.

  This morning’s destination, Icy Cap’s two-story metal-framed hospital, was six months old and a five-minute walk from the offices where Icy Cap’s law enforcement offices were housed. Everything in Icy Cap was new, because against all odds, this town three miles north of the Arctic Circle had become the hot spot for paranorms in the far north. Business was booming—both legal and not.

  Unlike most people he knew, Gary loved his job. Being a US Marshal in the Northern Alaska Paranormal Division kept his self-pity to a functional level. Being busy helping other people was good. It kept him from wallowing about his own life.

  He didn’t need the money. His taxidermy business was still doing well. It was the structure and the contact with other paranorms that he craved. Being a US Marshal gave him a reason and a place to belong.

  His immediate problem was Hugh Abner, vampire assassin. Abner would remove anyone, paranorm or human, for the right price. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that generations of law enforcement had sought him. The first records of him appeared back in 1898, with assassinations of railroad magnates and mine owners down in the Lower 48. The few photos of Abner throughout the years showed him still wearing the same flashy handlebar moustache.

  Abner had made a mistake. He had killed a confidential informant and severely injured the man’s wife, but not before she’d seen his face. Now the marshals were using the witness as bait, and when Abner struck again, they would be waiting.

  Gary’s colleagues suspected that Abner consumed fae blood to access the uncanny. Gary didn’t think so. He might not have been a marshal for very long, but he’d been in the world longer than his human coworkers. That accumulated knowledge from his years of outsider life made him an astute behavior observer.

  During his change after the infusion, Gary had taken to reading self-help books. He was a self and certainly in need of help. As far as he could figure out, no ghoul had ever survived an infusion of a different paranorm species’ blood. Facing a lack of expert opinion, Gary became his own expert.

  He liked the phrases the self-help books presented because they offered some solace. He avoided the quizzes and worksheets because those only showed him how far away he was from anyone’s normal.

  “Count your blessings” was the phrase that came to mind now. Gary ticked the fingers of his right hand against his jeans-clad thigh as he walked onto the unit floor. If there was any place that could make someone feel grateful, it was the hospital. And he was nearly certain that
Rose would be working today. He’d double-checked the staff roster yesterday before he left.

  Inside the hospital, the contrast of glass and bright light against the darkness outside made him blink. Disinfectant stung his nose. His acute sense of smell was an asset in tracking escaped prisoners but was difficult in everyday life. His eyes watered. His drippy eyes and sinuses had all but disappeared since his lifesaving infusion of vamp blood almost a year ago, but he still worried about them returning.

  Gary headed for the staircase. He didn’t like elevators. Hadn’t people noticed they were willingly stepping into a cage when they used those things?

  All Gary wanted now was to see his witness. Well, maybe that wasn’t all he wanted, but it would be a good enough start to his day.

  In the hospital unit, Gary passed a full-length picture window. With the bright interior lights contrasted against the darkness outside, his reflection startled him. At least it was less startling now than a year ago, when he had turned around to see whoever must be behind him only to find himself standing alone.

  Six feet, two inches, with raven-black hair and a physique that could be described as “strapping,” Gary felt like an impostor every time he noticed his reflection.

  Gary nodded his greeting to the uniformed shifter stationed outside his witness’s door. He inhaled, catching a scent of the sea. Bear shifter. He preferred dealing with werebears; they tended to be less cliquey than the wolves. Plus wolves jockeyed constantly within their packs for status, no matter how much they denied doing it.

  Gary entered his witness’s room to the raucous cheers of a cable cooking show. Judging by the volume, his witness must’ve misplaced her hearing aids.

  Willa Mykinoff had lived her whole life in Fairbanks, where she and her husband operated a dry-cleaning and coin-operated laundry business. For years, her husband laundered not only clothes but cash for local mobsters. With the feds closing in on him, Mr. Mykinoff had become an informant to escape prison. Unfortunately, his cover was blown, and Abner had killed him. Willa had not only survived the hit, she’d identified her husband’s killer.

  “Morning, Willa, how you feeling?” Gary stopped at the foot of her bed.

  “Shh. My program’s on.” The hospital gown Willa wore made her seem more frail than ever—until she opened her mouth. Her short gray hair was flattened on one side. She’d lost weight, and her skin hung loosely from her bones. One of the nurses had given her a manicure on a slow day. Her bright green fingernails gripped the homemade afghan that covered her bed.

  Gary squinted at the TV. “This the one where the contestants have to make something from the mystery items?”

  “They’ve added live scorpions to the basket.”

  “That’s new.” He parted the closed blinds to glance out into the dark parking lot below, checking for signs of anything unusual. It was just a matter of time before Abner struck again.

  Willa snorted. “Gotta do something to compete with Shark Week.” She returned to her cooking program.

  Gary waited. He was good at waiting. He repositioned himself, leaning against the wall, mostly hidden by the unused room divider curtain. Good thing she was alone in here: Willa needed the protection a private room offered. Even if she wasn’t in witness protection, he couldn’t imagine Willa having a roommate.

  Knock. Knock.

  His heart beat faster. It had to be her.

  “Willa?” a woman’s voice called from the door he’d left ajar.

  Gary’s cock twitched at the sound of vampire nurse Rose Winter, the main show of Gary’s fantasies, entering the room.

  He loved the agony of this minute: after he heard Rose’s voice, but before he saw her. Would her dark hair be loose today? What color scrubs was she wearing?

  He had a snowball’s chance in hell of finding out what kind of panties she wore, but hey, a ghoul could dream.

  “Good morning, how are you feeling?” Rose greeted Willa.

  “How do you think, bloodsucker? I’ve got a pin in my hip.”

  Gary winced. Willa wasn’t winning any friends with the nurses. Rose was one of the few who didn’t mind the older woman’s barbs. Being a vampire was an advantage in dealing with difficult patients, Rose had confided to him during a break. Apparently shifters could be pretty sensitive.

  He cleared his throat, pushing back the curtain. “Rose. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Good morning, Marshal.” Nothing fazed Rose, at least from what he could tell. She didn’t turn to greet him; instead, she measured her patient’s vital signs. She smoothed the covers around Willa before addressing her. “I’ll be right back, OK?”

  Willa waved her away without turning from the television.

  “Let’s talk in the hall,” Rose said, grabbing the clipboard off Willa’s bed.

  As Gary followed Rose out Willa winked and gave him a thumbs-up.

  Great. His witness had figured out his interest in Rose, but it seemed the vamp herself remained clueless.

  “What’s up?” he asked, meeting Rose in the hallway’s bright light. Inwardly he cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to his hard cock in the hospital hallway.

  Rose tucked away a dark lock that had escaped the chignon behind her ear. He would have liked to loosen her hair, begin kissing her below her ear, and work his way down.

  He wanted so much more than to talk work in the hallway.

  “Willa will be ready for discharge Monday.”

  “So soon? That can’t be right. Today’s already Friday.”

  “I pleaded with the doctors to let her stay the weekend. She’s cranky, but that’s not a reason to keep her in the hospital.”

  “How about keeping her safe? Is that good enough?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Rose said. “Social work will find her a rehab facility.”

  Gary groaned. “Has anyone mentioned this plan to Willa yet?”

  “We’re doing the best we can.” She paused, then looked away. “We still on for lunch?”

  “I’ve got a meeting.” The blood pounded in his ears. “Why don’t we get dinner after work instead?”

  Please say yes. Gary willed himself to appear nonchalant. Any whiff of panic from him—any allusion to the Old Gary, self-conscious Gary—and Rose would bolt.

  He’d met Rose eight months earlier, through his vamp friend Max, when they were both in Anchorage. Eventually he’d learned Rose had sworn off dating, but she never revealed the reason. Gary had become her friend. He hoped to slowly advance to something more. Gary was a patient man by nature, but his progress with Rose was glacial.

  “Come on, give me a break,” he pleaded. She was going to refuse him. He could practically see the response forming in her mind. “It’s not like I’d rather sit around with a bunch of shifters organizing Willa’s security detail for the weekend.”

  She pursed her lips. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top. Not freakishly so, but just enough that he found it greatly distracting.

  “Don’t get any idea about this being some kind of date. If it makes you feel better, you can hold all the doors open for me,” Gary said.

  The dimple in her left cheek quirked. “OK.”

  “Really?”

  “Away from work is better anyway.”

  That was new. But not new in a good way.

  “What’s up?” Gary’s stomach clenched. Immediately his thoughts fled to Rose’s well-being. Something must be wrong. She was a vamp, but there was something sweet and untouched about her. The hint of her tragic past only reinforced his protectiveness.

  “Willa’s waiting,” she reminded him.

  “She’s waiting for someone to drop dead on a cable cooking show. We’re doing her a favor by not interrupting her.”

  Her eyes welled with tears, and she looked away.

  Watching his sweet little vamp tear up made his heart ache.

  He tugged her scrub sleeve to lead her behind a towering cart of clean laundry. This way they were out of sight from
Willa’s security detail, although he was sure the shifter’s keen ears were picking up everything. “Are you OK?”

  She shook her head, blinking rapidly, still not looking at him. “I’m fine.”

  Clearly she was not fine. He wanted to hold her, but having his cock in jeans this close to Rose was risky.

  Two big tears slipped down her cheeks. This was killing him. How was he supposed to just stand here and watch her cry and do nothing? He couldn’t think when he’d seen a vamp shed tears so easily.

  “Friends help friends,” he cajoled. “As long as there’s not a dead body involved, I’ll help however I can.”

  She gave a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “No dead body involved.”

  “Then tell me, for the love of the Goddess, before I fossilize waiting.”

  “I was going to wait until lunch. Try to soften you up over some dried salmon.”

  “Winter . . .” Gary warned.

  “OK, here goes.” She took a deep breath, but didn’t appear to exhale. “Will you marry me?”

  2

  Rose

  Gary Just, the most honest man she had ever met, blinked at her. She’d shocked him. No big surprise. Here they’d been planning to meet at the hospital for lunch. Gary loved the smoked salmon, while she restricted herself to sipping defrosted blood through a straw.

  She’d moved to Icy Cap for her new job, and it wasn’t until they’d literally run into each other in the hospital cafeteria that she realized Gary lived here.

  Spending any time with Gary away from work would be bad. He was sexy and smart. In other words, the total package.

  But Rose wasn’t interested in any more heartache. Her previous lover had seen to that. And to be honest, she’d left him with a few scars too.

  But none of this had anything to do with why she needed Gary’s help now.

  “I only need you to pose as my fiancé,” Rose blurted. “For a few minutes tonight, to meet my mother.”