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I stared at her. "Did you even hear the message Trillian sent?"
She shrugged. "It came from Trillian. What can I say?"
I let it drop. Neither one of my sisters liked my ex, but a voice inside whispered to me that we were standing at the tip of the iceberg, staring at an enemy far greater than anything the OIA had ever faced.
After escorting a subdued Chase out the door, we sat around the table, mulling over the situation. With Shadow Wing riding at the helm of the Subterranean Realms, our job had taken a turn for the dangerous. Not to mention that I had a personal stake in the matter. Trillian was back, and he had singled me out. How had he hooked up with the OIA? They didn't accept Svartans in their service, any more than my family had accepted him.
My stomach rumbled and, hungry, I shoved back my chair, went to the refrigerator, and pulled out a loaf of whole grain bread, a packet of sliced chicken breast, sliced Swiss cheese, and a bowl of tomatoes. Delilah perked up when I fixed a couple sandwiches and handed her one.
"So, we've got some decisions to make," I said, settling back into my chair. "I know that Jocko's murderer either was—or had close contact with—a demon. That rope is permeated with the stench."
Menolly's eyes narrowed. "The question is, does Shadow Wing have a hand in this, or is the demon a rogue? And are there any mortals involved? Humans, Sidhe, somebody discontent with the status quo?"
"Anybody new check in at the Wayfarer the past few nights, however unlikely a suspect? Maybe a shapeshifter?"
She frowned, tapping her taloned nails on the table. "A few, but they all cleared through as being from Otherworld. Of course, that doesn't mean that they're on the up and up. There are some shady characters back home."
I nodded. While the Subterranean Realms were home to the biggest, baddest beasties, OW had its share of malcontents, and not all of them fit the stereotype. "Did Jocko have any friends here?" I asked.
Menolly snorted. "He was popular with the women. He was hung like a horse and apparently FBH women loved him. I know for a fact that he spent a lot of time hanging out with one woman in particular. Her name's… give me a minute," she said, thinking. "Oh yes, Louise. Louise Jenkins."
"Do you know where she lives?" I asked.
"Not a clue." Menolly shook her head.
"Okay, here's the plan. Delilah, you're the detective. Find out whatever you can about this Jenkins woman. Where she lives, who she hangs out with, if she was seen with Jocko anytime in the past day or so. Anything that seems remotely important.">Menolly snorted. "Good going, Johnson," she said as she approached the window. "Delilah, honey? I'm coming up. Don't be scared!" She slowly began to rise through the air as if she was standing on a pad of air. Delilah meowed but didn't try to escape as Menolly approached the top of the curtains. With a firm hand, she reached out and grasped Delilah by the pale blue collar that embodied Delilah's clothing. "Come on, you little twit," she said fondly.
Menolly held her tight until she hit the ground and then handed Delilah to me. As Delilah snuggled against my shoulder, I scratched behind her ears. "Poor baby, it's okay. It's okay," I said softly.
Chase cleared his throat, his eyes wide. "How long till she turns back to normal?"
"Once she calms down, she'll be okay," I said.
"Was she born that way?" he asked.
Menolly surprised me by fielding the question. "Delilah was born a werecat. Unlike others of her kind, she doesn't change into a big cat. Just our gorgeous little long-haired golden tabby." She laughed then, throaty and deep. With a glance at Chase, she added, "The children teased her about it when we were little, and sometimes they forced a change in order to 'play with the pretty kitty.' It got so bad our father and mother pulled her out of school."
Chase shook his head. "There's a lot I don't understand about the three of you yet."
"What exactly sets her off is hard to determine," I said. "I've seen her face down some of the nastiest criminals in OW and remain calm and in control, but let the three of us get in an argument, and she's a mass of fur and razor blades."
Delilah meowed in my ear. Loud. I turned to Chase and Menolly and, in a low voice said, "Okay, so the two of you need to tone down your spats because if you don't, I'll take matters into my own hands."
Chase rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh, you and what army? What are you going to do? Take off your clothes and dance nekkid, maybe?"
"Get your mind out of the gutter, and me with it, Johnson." I kept my voice even, but he knew I was pissed. "I may not be able to do much to Menolly, but you I can cast a spell on. Ever thought of what it would be like to be a toad? Or a mouse, maybe? Want to see what Delilah does to cute little mice?"
Menolly grinned, baring her fangs as Chase blanched. "She means it, Johnson. And considering the chance for backfire, I think I'd apologize."
"Why me? You're just as much to blame—"
"Oh cripes! Can't you two be in the same room together for five minutes without picking a fight?" Startled, Delilah tried to claw her way up my shoulder, resulting in a couple of deep scratches, but I stroked her neck, calming her down. "Can you quit bickering for one night? Please?" I stared pointedly at Chase.
He let out a long sigh. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll play nice."
Menolly shook her head. "As usual, Camille, you're the voice of reason." She graciously extended a hand to Chase. "I'll pull my fangs in." She leaned toward Delilah and added, "Delilah, honey, you don't have to worry, I'm not going to have a Chase cocktail for dinner."
Chase drummed his fingers on the table. "Perhaps it's none of my business, but if Delilah was born a werecat, were you born a vampire?" he asked softly. "Nobody ever filled me in on your backgrounds, other than the fact that you're half-human and sisters. Hell, until a few years ago, I didn't even know vampires really existed. Witches or werecats either," he added with a smile.
