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The Lexus was a beauty, and she kept it in pristine condition, much to the consternation of her bank account. At least she put her ability to charm the pants off just about any human male to good use. She always managed to get a discount on services and parts, and both Menolly and I took her along when we needed work done on our own vehicles.
I pulled out the crystal Queen Asteria's messenger had given us and closed my eyes as I grasped it in my hand. The magic pulsated, a steady rhythm warming my skin. I wasn't a witch, but the energy had an oddly familiar cadence to it.
Elfin magic went back far before that of most wizards. Camille was tied to the Moon Mother, and her magic had roots extending far into the haze of history, but the elves… their magic was that of tree and wood, and deep dark caverns, and ancient rivers running wild through the land. They walked the paths of the forests, and even Elqaneve, their city, was grounded firmly in the soil of Otherworld, though it had first taken hold in the body of the Earth Mother.
Slowly, with an even pace, I circled Camille's car, watching the crystal carefully. It flickered softly, pale blue, frost white, and then, as I reached the trunk, a blush of rose began to form inside the sunburst. Bingo. I popped her trunk, and the crystal flared. And then I paused. I don't know what stopped me—instinct perhaps, or perhaps a gut feeling—but I pulled my hand out of the trunk and turned on the flashlight that I'd been carrying in my pocket. I flicked it on, and what I saw made me grateful I hadn't reached into the dark.
Toward the back, a metal disk the size of a quarter was fastened to the floor of the trunk. A bug, no doubt. But guarding the disk were two brown spiders with jointed brown legs. They could have been house spiders, but I knew they weren't. They might have been Weres, but again, I knew they weren't. They were guardians, magically enhanced to withstand the cold weather. Sentinels. And they would have bitten me if I'd reached in without looking.
I slowly withdrew my hand, not wanting to alarm them. If they scuttled off behind the liner in the trunk, there'd be no finding them. They'd have the advantage, and their target would most likely be Camille. I shut the trunk gently and bolted back up the stairs into the kitchen, where Camille and Iris were putting away the dishes out of the dishwasher.
"There's a bug, all right," I said, "and two guards to make sure it's not disturbed. I think they've been enchanted, which means insecticide probably won't work on them. We need to catch them or kill them. We can't let them get away.">Stepping out of the tub, I dried off and shook my hair into place. After slipping into my favorite PJs, a terrycloth robe, and slippers, I padded down to the kitchen.
Iris and Chase were at the table. Chase nursed a cup of tea with Maggie sitting on his lap, while Iris was telling him stories about her life when she was bound to the Kuusi family in Finland. Chase liked Iris. Actually, most men did. She was witty and bright, pretty and friendly, and she had a way of making a guest feel welcome enough to take off his shoes, prop his feet up, and make himself right at home.
I poured myself a cup of tea and joined them, pulling Maggie into my arms. The gargoyle looked surprised, then wrapped her arms around my neck, gave me a nose lick, and rested her head on my shoulder, her downy fur tickling my chin.
Chase leaned his way past Maggie's head and pressed his lips against mine in a long, slow kiss. Not demanding, just welcoming. I shivered. How would I ever talk to him about Zachary? Did I even want to bother?
A burst of laughter from the hall told us Camille and Morio were on their way. Camille was wearing a purple peignoir set, and Morio was dressed in a calf-length blue smoking robe over a pair of dusky pajamas. They settled in at the table and poured their tea while Iris bustled about, heating up our dinner and quickly whipping together a batch of baking powder biscuits.
"Well, we have a lot to discuss," Camille said finally. "Tomorrow, I want to take a closer look at that shield. I'd like to know what the Hunters Moon Clan was doing with it. The thing's rife with demon energy."
"There are a lot of things we need to know," Chase said. "I called Sharah while you all were showering. The victim's name is Ben Jones. We lucked out. No immediate family to question where he's at. He worked for the Retro-Fit Plumbing Company, so we'll let them know that he won't be coming back. He was, as Morio suggested, drained dry of his innards, but his heart appears to have been removed first. Ripped out, you might say," Chase added softly. "This is a pretty gruesome case, guys. Do you think there's any chance the OIA will get involved? I know the Pumas are Earthside Supes, but…"
"But we could use all the help we can get," I said. "I have no idea if the OIA will be doing anything to help any of us. Trillian should have more information when he returns from his visit. When's he supposed to get back, Camille?"
She shrugged. "I thought today. Apparently I was wrong. But considering what Father told us the other day, I think we can count out any involvement on the agency's part."
"Why, though, is a Degath Squad picking on the Puma Pride? And why use the Hunter's Moon Clan to do their dirty work? Shadow Wing doesn't seem like one to stand in the shadows and play the puppet master." I leaned back in my chair, absently stroking Maggie's fur. "I still think the Autumn Lord is our best bet for information. We have to know everything we can about the Hunter's Moon Clan, and he's the one who can tell us."
Camille stared at the table. "I may not like it, but I think you're right. When demons are involved, we're involved. I'll talk to Smoky tomorrow night while you attend the V. A. meeting with Menolly. He's our best chance. I just hope he doesn't set the price so high we'll regret it."
* * *
CHAPTER 9
By the time I woke up, the sun had already risen. Hell, I'd overslept. I pulled myself out of bed, grateful that it was Sunday and I didn't have to worry about going to the office or anything like that. Actually, since I made my own hours, I was a lot freer than either Camille, who was bound to the bookstore unless Iris helped her out, or Menolly, who was in charge of the Wayfarer. I could arrange my days as I chose. Of course, I made less money than either of them, but I didn't really care.
A peek out the window told me that the day was dry and chilly, though not freezing. The temperature hovered around the thirty-eight degree mark, and what snow we'd had was slowly melting off, turning to slush.
I ran through a series of stretches, arching my back, rolling my neck, then slipped into the shower for a quick rinse-and-go. Rooting through my closet, I found a pair of cozy black sweatpants and a cute T-shirt that said, Fae is the Way on the front over a picture of Tinkerbelle standing in a Betty Boop pose. Poor Tinkerbelle had suffered a setback once we started coming through the portals and people got a glimpse of what the Fae were really like.
I ran a brush through my hair, washed my face, and brushed my teeth, then headed downstairs where the smells of breakfast floated through the air. Iris and Camille were filling the table with blueberry hotcakes hot off the griddle, maple sausage, a mess of scrambled eggs, and chilled applesauce with whipped cream. Iris had my milk all ready for me—warm with a dash of cinnamon and sugar sprinkled in it.
I licked my lips. "You two have been busy this morning. Feeling rather domestic?" Camille flashed me a pale smile, and the weight of last night's excursion encroached on my perky mood again.
"Thinking about last night?" Pulling up a chair, I tasted my milk, then, satisfied it was just right, chugged it down. Maybe I had lost a lot of my optimism and naive everything-will-be-okay attitude since we'd landed Earthside, but werespiders or not, nothing was going to come between me and my breakfast.
"That and the fact that I haven't heard from Trillian yet," she said.
I frowned. "Maybe the Svartan king kept him there. Maybe Tanaquar? I've never been quite sure just how Trillian's connected to the war, and he's never really explained it to me." I hadn't bothered to ask, but that was beside the point.
Camille deposited the last of the hotcakes on the table, and she and Iris settled in their chairs. We were alone—no boyfriends at the table—and Menolly was sleeping soundly in her lair. Maggie crawled around the floor, content to pound on a plastic bowl with a wooden spoon Iris had given her. She giggled as she drummed out a chaotic medley of beats.
Gargoyles were primarily bipedal, but when they were young, their wings unbalanced them, tiny as the appendages still were, and so they crawled like human children. We'd had one of the OIA medics examine her and, while he wasn't a specialist regarding Cryptos, he said he thought she was developing normally. Or as normally as she could, given her background.
"Trillian runs messages between Tanaquar and the Svartan King. I think the King's name is Vodox," Camille said. "When I thought Trillian had returned to Svartalfheim after I ran away from him, he was actually sneaking back and forth between his city and Y'Elestrial. Now that Svartalfheim has packed up and moved to Otherworld, it makes his job easier, although if Lethesanar catches him, he's as good as dead."
