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I leaned back in my chair and swiveled, propping my feet on the edge of the windowsill. "You need someone with experience. What makes you think I'm the best choice? I have to tell you, I'm still a little green in the business."
Zachary gave me a soft, slow grin. "I think your business goes further back than you let on. I doubt that you spend all your time chasing wayward spouses. I've heard rumors that a skinwalker took a nose dive somewhere near your house. And demon scent was tracked to your door, but no demons ever came out again. I've been watching the three of you. You don't go as unnoticed as you think. Tell your sister Camille that her wards are working fine, though. Our shaman can't negate them."
Holding my breath, I wondered who'd spilled the beans. But then again, it was hard to hide the deaths of a harpy, a Psycho Babbler, and a demon like Bad Ass Luke. Especially over here, Earthside. We were on the A-list of tabloids. The Fae were hot, and we fit the bill.
He seemed to take my silence for assent. "So, will you at least come have a look?"
I sighed. A gnawing pit in my gut told me this case ran deeper than a local hunter out to nab himself some mountain lions. For one thing, serial killers usually worked to an MO, and that sure seemed to be the case here. All the victims were found in one area, and all had been destroyed in a bizarre fashion. From the condition of the corpses, there had to be something at work beyond just a simple murderer gone over the edge. Perhaps a rogue Corpse Talker? The missing hearts would line up with that idea.
"All right. I'll come have a look, but I'm not promising results." Now came the hard part. I had trouble asking for money, especially when it came to other Supes. But Zachary stepped in before I could hem and haw my way toward settling a price.
"Will a five-hundred-dollar retainer do for a start? You come out and take a look. If you think you can do anything, then we negotiate the rest of the price. If not, then consider it a good-faith fee for your time today and for the visit." He swept his bangs back from his face, and I caught my breath as a wave of his scent washed over me. Aroused, I swallowed as he tossed five bills on the desk.
Managing to keep my cool, I said, "That works. Mind if I come out on Saturday? Say around sixish? I'm bringing my sisters, by the way." If I set the time late enough, both Camille and Menolly could come with me. I wasn't about to go without backup. This wasn't just some ticked-off little pissant. Whoever was stalking the Puma Pride was dangerous and all too deadly.
"No problem," he said. "I'll call with directions later. By the way," he said, his voice throaty, "You can call me Zach."
As I wrote out a receipt, I kept one eye on him. He wasn't wearing a ring, but that didn't mean anything. I wasn't sure how their clan handled relationships and marriages. Cats weren't monogamous, but these were Earthside Supes who had lived near humans most of their lives, so who knew how they ran their interpersonal lives?
As he reached for the receipt, he lingered, his index finger slowly stroking the top of my hand. Shaken, feeling sucked under in a whirlpool of emotions I hadn't planned for, I glanced up, my Fae glamour shining through before I could stop it. He caught his breath and leaned forward. As my lips parted, he paused, his face hovering an inch above my own.
"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, Delilah D'Artigo." And then, silent as snow falling on water, he slipped out of my office and was gone.
By the time I arrived home, Camille was curled on the living room sofa with Trillian, her main squeeze. By main, I mean overriding obsession, and by squeeze, I mean Svartan—the king of Tall, Dark, and Dangerous. With jet-black skin that shone with a faint glow, long silver hair, and eyes the color of an ice floe, Trillian was more gorgeous than any man had a right to be. And he knew it.
Camille belonged to him, bound by a lust oath. As she'd found out the hard way, there was no breaking away from sexual bondage with a Svartan. He gave her free reign on whoever else she might want to spend her nights with, but in the end, she belonged to him, chained by magic as old as time.
I didn't really like Trillian, but I was beginning to see that beneath that cold, aloof nature, he really did care about my sister.
"Is Menolly awake yet?" I asked, grabbing up a bowl of corn chips and stuffing a handful in my mouth. I loved junk food, I loved trash TV, and I was coming to love much of human culture, as homesick as I was.
Camille nodded toward the kitchen. "She's feeding Maggie. Iris made a huge pot of spaghetti, and there's plenty left if you're hungry. I already ate."
I coughed. By the look on Trillian's face, I could guess what she'd had for dessert.
"Back in a minute," I said, and dashed down the hall. Menolly, with her Bo Derek braids the color of burnished copper and her vamp-pale skin, was rocking Maggie by the stove as she fed her a bottle of gargoyle formula. She cooed to the little calico Crypto. Damn it, where was my camera? If I could catch the scene on film, it would give me something to hold over her head for years to come. Then I remembered;. Menolly wouldn't photograph. Some of the wives' tales about vampires were true.
Instead, I leaned against the cupboard and cleared my throat. "How's our baby girl today?"
Menolly jumped, her eyes shifting to bloodred, then back to their usual pale frost. "Damn it, Kitten, will you make some noise when you enter the room? Both Camille and I've warned you about sneaking up on me! I could hurt you. Or Maggie."
Oh hell, I'd done it again. I was one of the few people who could actually surprise Menolly, but I risked my health doing so. Camille had the scars on her arm to prove what happened when our sister was startled. But I hadn't thought about her hurting Maggie.
I scowled and stared at the floor. "Sorry."
She tucked Maggie back into her playpen. "Camille and I've scolded you about that before—"
That did it. I yanked off my jacket and tossed it on the table. "And I'm so sick of you two scolding me! I screwed up—I'm sorry. I'll be more careful, but you have to quit acting like I'm your stupid little sister. Damn it, Menolly, I'm older than you. I may not be a badass like you, or able to throw lightning like Camille, but that doesn't mean that I'm naive. I thought I made enough noise when I came in the kitchen. Stop. Apparently I'm quieter than I thought. Stop. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Stop. So quit treating me like I'm an idiot. End of Message."
"You're in a mood, aren't you?"
I let out an exasperated sigh, and Menolly shrugged.
"All right, all right," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we hurt your feelings, Kitten."
She didn't get it, and she probably never would. Sometimes sisters were a pain in the butt. "Never mind." I frowned and popped another corn chip in my mouth. "Listen, I have some interesting news for you and Camille. Come into the living room, would you?"
It was Menolly's turn to grimace. "Trillian's in there," she said, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. I shot her a warning look, and she backed down. "Oh, all right. Let's go."
