Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 Read Online Free PDF

career, but nothing’s ever been proven. The guy might
not look terribly impressive, but underestimating him is definitely
a no-no.”
    “Oh yeah? What’s he look
like?”
    “He’s a werehog. Short and ugly. Just
look for the little pig everyone kowtows to.”
    I suddenly had a vision of the Big Bad
Wolf calling, ‘Little pig, little pig, let me in.’ I knew Dan
wanted me to take this seriously, but I couldn’t help but snicker a
tiny bit. At his glare, I immediately wiped my expression clear of
amusement. “Short, ugly little pig. Got it.”
    “Okay. I’d better get going.” He leaned
down to give me a kiss.
    “See you later.”
    “And watch out for the
witch.”
    I arched an eyebrow at him. “Don’t
worry about that. I know how dangerous they are.”
    Dan nodded. He knows how careful I am
around witches, having been on the wrong end of a wand. Then he was
gone.
    I was still naked. With no other ghosts
or Augustus around to see me it was no big deal, but I decided to
get into the spirit of things. I conjured myself a formfitting
black leather mini-dress and thigh-high boots. A spike-studded
collar joined the ensemble, and I went to the black painted window,
the one with the snarling hog, and checked myself out in the
reflection aided by the nearby streetlight. I admit I looked more
Domme than submissive, but since I wasn’t entering a BDSM club, I
figured it would be okay.
    I fluffed my hair out to accentuate my
high cheekbones, pleased with my appearance. I wished myself some
fire-engine red lipstick on my pouty lips, along with smoky
eyeshadow. Oh yeah, I was all that and a bag of chips now. The
dress fit me like a glove, doing justice to my size 4 figure that I
no longer have to fight to keep. I thought I looked pretty
hot.
    It was time to get to work, and I
readied to enter the biker club. Beauty, meet the
Beasts.

Chapter 2

    My first impression of the club was
that it looked like a low-rent bar. A real dive, you know the type?
There were battered wooden tables and chairs, a postage-stamp sized
stand where a band could play, a foosball table and a pool table.
And there was the bar itself, with a laminated countertop that
might have been new a quarter of a century ago with a lot of
bottles of liquor and an actual beer tap behind it. A refrigerator,
looking like a 70’s denizen in Autumn Gold, and a stainless steel
sink completed the setup.
    Overall it was dim, well-lit only over
the game tables, which by the number of shifters surrounding them
spoke of games in progress. The corners were dark. The place
smelled of booze, sweat, animal musk, and leather.
    I noted a short hallway at the back of
the room with doors on either side. The two doors on the right I
thought must be restrooms. One had ‘Cocks’ badly painted on it and
the other read ‘Cunts’. Lovely. The two doors on the left had
nothing to say about what rooms they opened to.
    The thrash metal I’d heard earlier had
been replaced by the exuberant but lighter ‘90’s tune ‘Animal’, an
appropriate song given the weres that filled the place. Hoots,
whistles, growls, and snarls filled the air as the men cheered the
women dancing on the bar. The women were all human and in various
states of undress as they boogied down. They looked hard and
somehow dry, as if life had sapped all the juice from their bodies.
Even the youngest looking of the females, a girl who couldn’t have
been more than her early twenties, had a worn air about her. She
laughed as she slung her bra to the upturned faces, but it was a
sound as brittle as leaves crunching underfoot.
    As for the men, they were all the
half-human, half-animal creatures the Zoo Flu had turned them into.
A virus that had originated with animals and made the jump to
people, it killed more often than it transformed its victims.
There’s no cure for it. If you catch it, you either die or become a
werecreature, the type depending on the animal you caught the flu
from. Shifters can pass it on to