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"Welcome to Seattle, then. Would you like a picture?" I asked, pointing to their cameras as I eased into a smile. Catch more flies with honey… although I'd never quite understood the value of the expression. Mother had used it all the time while we were growing up and even as a child, I'd questioned why anybody would want to catch flies unless you were a goblin and used them for croutons.
Linda and Elizabeth nodded, their smiles returning. Just then, Chase reappeared. He glanced at their buttons and cameras and gave me a sympathetic look. He'd seen the Faerie Watchers in action before.
"Chase, would you mind taking a picture of me and these lovely women?"
I had to hand it to him. He caught my sarcasm but merely nodded and accepted the camera. I stood between Elizabeth and Linda, and Chase snapped several shots and then handed it back to them.
"Ladies," he said, flashing his badge. "I'm afraid that Ms. D'Artigo and I have official business to discuss. If you'll excuse us… ?"
They reluctantly backed away, shooting thank-yous and nice-to-meet-yous at me all the while. As they exited the coffee shop, I felt an actual surge of gratitude toward Chase.
"Sometimes you're all right," I said, and he flashed me a brilliant grin. His teeth gleamed in the gloom of the afternoon.
"It must be hell," he said, nodding at the retreating women. "You get that everywhere you go, don't you?"
"Not so much as some of the others. After all, I am half-human. But yeah, the Sidhe seem to be the flavor of the year, and I imagine we'll continue to be for some time."
I leaned closer, making sure my voice didn't carry. "Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Our plan is this: we get proof that OIA can't overlook. Proof about the demons and Shadow Wing. We find this Tom Lane guy and take him back to Otherworld. Once they know the extent of what's happening, they'll have to act."
As I pulled apart the layers of my croissant, I couldn't help but wonder if we stood a chance in hell of pulling this off. Hell being the operative word.
Our next step was to find the harpy, but first Chase had to stop by the station. I decided to run back to the shop.
"Meet me there," I said. "Meanwhile, I'm going to think of a plan to find the harpy." I spoke with more confidence than I felt, but somebody had to take initiative, and it wasn't likely Chase would know how to chase down a giant bird-woman that was running around the city. Of course, it would also be hard for the harpy to hide. How many giant bird-women could there be in Seattle? Somebody was bound to catch sight of her and report her to either the police or Animal Control.
I had to park three blocks away from the Indigo Crescent, but that was okay with me. Between my car and the shop stood The Scarlet Harlot, Erin Mathews's lingerie shop. I'd been meaning to drop in to look at her new stock, and considering Chase had told me he'd be around in about an hour, I had time for a quick look-see.
Erin was behind the counter, looking much more professional than she had at the Faerie Watchers Club meeting. Her eyes lit up when she saw me come through the door, and she gave a bright wave. I'd allowed her to put my picture on the wall along with a caption that read, "Camille D'Artigo—owner of the Indigo Crescent—shops here," and that alone brought in more clientele. Yeah, Faeries were good for business, all right.
She scrambled out from behind the counter. "Camille! So good to see you. How's business?"
I couldn't very well tell her I was on a demon hunt, so I just nodded and murmured as I poked through the racks. "Just thought I'd drop in and take a look at what you might have in the plum or magenta line. Satin or silk would be good." Those were Trillian's favorite colors, but that wasn't why I asked for them. No, not me. I'd halfway decided that I wasn't going to sleep with Trillian again. It had been a mistake, a wonderful, passionate mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. Then again, Delilah was being supportive. Damn, I thought. Why couldn't I just let go of him once and for all?
Erin smiled. "I've got a couple of outfits that might have been made for you. Wait here." While she slipped through the curtains into the back, I flipped through the hangers, looking at the yards of lace and satin and silk and soft cotton. In some ways, I missed Otherworld, with the one-of-a-kind garments sewn by hand. Nobody ever had exactly the same outfit as anybody else… but the materials here and the choices were wonderful. You couldn't get PVC in OW, that was for certain.
"Looking for something to drape that gorgeous figure in?"
Startled, I slowly turned to find myself staring at a towering man who was wearing a bouffant blond wig—or at least I thought it was a wig—and who was dressed to the hilt in a skintight, thigh-high sequined orange dress. His skin was so tan that he almost looked brown, and his pink lipstick and green eye shadow were caked on with a spatula. He was in dire need of a What Not to Wear overhaul.
"My name's Cleo Blanco," he said. "And you are?" He held out one hand. I saw that his nails were longer—and far more manicured—than my own.
Well, this was an interesting turn of events. In Otherworld, we didn't have drag queens. We had every flavor of the sexual smorgasbord from vanilla to kinked-out peppermint, but very few Faeries dressed like the opposite gender. Of course, our clothes were a little more adventuresome than those Earthside, so maybe we just didn't notice the overlaps.
I took the proffered hand and shook it. "Camille D'Artigo. I own the Indigo Crescent." Curious as to what he wanted, I tilted my head and gazed up at the lanky man. "What can I do for you?"
He laughed, a rich and easy trill that rolled off his tongue like honey. "It's what I can do for you. Honey, I know men who would pay you a thousand a night for your favors. You've got a valuable commodity in that Faerie pussy of yours."
If I were an FBH, I would have been turning bright red. As it was, I just returned his free-and-easy smile with one of my own and wrinkled my nose. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll take a pass. My pussy's on exclusive loan right now, and isn't one-size-fits-all." Not technically true, but close enough. I'd had my share of giants and dwarves BT—before Trillian—but Cleo here didn't need to know that.
With a snort, he patted me on the shoulder. His touch was friendly but not invasive, so I let it pass. "Honey, you're all right. I hope you didn't take offense, but I know several girls like you who are living high on the proverbial bacon thanks to their blood. I never like to see opportunity go to waste."
Faerie hookers Earthside? Well, it was bound to happen, I thought. Given the innate charm that we held over FBHs, eventually somebody was going to capitalize on it. While the idea of whoring myself held no interest for me, it didn't offend me either. In our world, sex was open and easy to come by, hence little need for hookers or brothels. At least among the Sidhe. Although it was sometimes used as a weapon, and many a power struggle had been played out in the bedroom, as well as high dramas and duels.
I snorted. "No, I'm not offended. So, Cleo, you work the streets, too?"
Cleo whistled and stared at the ceiling. "No, girl, I do not work the streets. I'm an entertainer—a female impersonator. I work over at Glacier Springs—a nightclub on East Pine, near the Seattle Community College. On Tuesday and Wednesday nights, I'm Bette Davis, dahling, and the rest of the week, I'm Marilyn Monroe." The latter, he said in a breathless and wispy voice. "I take Sundays off to go visit my little girl and her mama."
Just then, Erin came bustling back to the front of the store, several garments in hand. She took one look at Cleo and frowned. "You bothering my customers again, Cleo?" she said, but her tone told me she wasn't serious. He gave her an easy laugh in return.
