Downside Rain: Downside book one Read Online Free PDF

clean clothing options. Two T-shirts. Two pairs
of jeans. A pile of dirty clothes draw my reluctant gaze. A trip to the
cleaners is in order, or I can talk Castle into letting me use his washer and
dryer.
    Castle
has been Downside for forty years, time enough to become established and
accumulate lots of junk. I don’t envy him the house with all those big rooms or
the stuff in them, but I wouldn’t say no to a washer and dryer were my apartment
equipped for them.
    The
doorbell rings.
    Unbelievable.
I rarely receive phone calls, and not counting clients’ couriers, Castle has been
my lone visitor in the five years I’ve lived in this apartment. And it is not Castle’s rapid-fire bam-bam-bam.
    I
slouch to the door and look through the peephole. A tall ugly elf with one
notched ear and short red-gold hair waits outside the door, chin raised, looking
at the peephole over his crooked nose.
    I
press the intercom. “Hello?”
    “Rain?”
    “That’s
me.”
    His
head tips to one side. “May I come in?”
    I
snort. “No. I’m not seeing anyone right this minute.” Sure, I’ll let him in so
he can eyeball my naked body. I wouldn’t let an elf in anyway. “How can I help
you?”
    His
brows peak at my amused tone. “I have your fee from Bermstead.” He waves a
small brown envelope.
    Why
did the custodian hire an elf courier? In fact, an elf working as a messenger
is plain weird. He must be seriously Maybe he’s down
on his luck, and the custodian is in his dotage.
    “Push
it under the door.” The crack at the bottom is big enough to let in mice, an
envelope won’t be a problem.
    He
bends, disappearing from sight and a corner of the envelope scrapes beneath the
door. I use my toes to pull it inside.
    His
face reappears in the peephole. “You can give your report to me.”
    “Castle
handles that.” I frown. We barely finished the job, why the gods-awful rush?
    He
gives me a jerky nod and makes for the staircase.
    Come
to think of it, why is Bermstead paying us before we hand in our report?
    I
shrug - that’s Castle’s department, not my worry.
    I
wrestle into a washed-out pink T-shirt, clean panties, black denim jeans and
the last pair of clean socks. Pushing my feet into black boots, I zip them up,
stand and stamp to settle them properly.
    Tearing
open the envelope, I ruffle the bills. I’ll take Castle’s share to him later,
along with my dirty clothes.
     
    The
top floor of Alain Sauvageau’s house looks over the carved stone walls of the
Peralta family compound. The double doors are solid wood, with a smaller door
in one and a hatch through which visitors are thoroughly perused by one of his
henchmen. Or henchvamp?
    Apart
from his bodyguards who have rooms in Alain’s house, the vampires live in four
large buildings behind the walls. Similar to the mansion, these structures are
of gray stone slabs into which weird and wonderful designs have been chiseled.
Doors and windows surrounded by heavy lintels are inset. Eaves and downspouts
are particularly ornate.
    I
once mocked the heavy ornate architecture and Alain said he likes it. Alain is
all about drama.
    A
tall male vampire with a heavy brow lets me into the compound. That vampires
are pallid and beautiful is a fallacy. Their skin tones vary depending on their
ethnicity before they were turned, and a family considers a prospect’s
character rather than their physical appearance when swelling their ranks. With
his long arms, shaggy hair and massive rounded shoulders, George could pass for
a gorilla in a suit.
    He
nods and points at a leather bucket by the door. I divest myself of blades and
toss them in.
    A
kind of chill surrounds a vampire, which isn’t unpleasant on a warm day,
particularly when one wears leather which tends to trap the heat. George’s
touch on my shoulder is not as welcome; I become solid and heavy in a flash as flesh
bulks me.
    Only
the touch of a wraith or a vampire can force full flesh, I think because
vampires began as dead humans,