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One thing we knew for sure: Where there was one demon, there were bound to be more. Where there was one Degath Squad, other Hell Scouts would follow, and eventually, with an army to back them up. And even with the help of Camille's boyfriends, Trillian and Morio, a gorgeous hunk of dragon flesh we knew only by the name of Smoky, and my boyfriend Chase Johnson, we were a pale wall of defense.
The door opened, and Camille blew through. She was in full getup: flowing plum chiffon skirt, black lace bustier, black PVC boots that laced up her calves, their heels a mile high. Her eyes sparkled with silver. She'd been running magic, all right. Her glamour was so strong that I was amazed she didn't have a pack of men following her home.
Of the three of us, she had the most appeal to full-blooded humans. Her very scent invited them to come play, and her voluptuous curves left little to the imagination.
Camille had another side, though. She'd taken care of us after our mother died. Menolly was off in her own little world by then, though not yet a vampire, but Camille held it together for our father and for the three of us.
"Something tripped the wards," she said. "I can feel it. Anything happen tonight I should know about?"
I jumped up. "I've been waiting for you to get home." I glanced out the window. First light was only moments away. "I want you to come out back with me. I smelled cat magic last night, and I think we might have a Were prowling around, but I'm not positive. I was in cat form, and the full moon can cloud my senses."
She ruffled my hair, a habit that I both loved and hated. "Let's go check it out, sweetie." With a glance at Menolly, she added, "You need to get downstairs. The sky's clear, and the sun will be up soon. I'm surprised you aren't already feeling the pull."
Menolly brushed her eyes. "I am, actually. I'll put Maggie in her box and go to bed." Unlike most vampires, Menolly slept in an actual bed, and her nest—very Martha Stewart—was hidden in the basement behind a secret entrance we'd fashioned to keep out intruders. No one else but Iris knew that the bookshelves in the kitchen actually opened up to reveal the staircase leading to Menolly's apartment.
Camille followed me out to the backyard. I grabbed a trowel on the way. Everything looked so different from this height, but the minute I saw the cockleburs, I felt my dander rise. I stopped, kneeling down to root them out.
"What are you doing?" Camille asked.
I grunted. "These suckers got stuck in my tail last night. I'm going to hire a gardener to come in and clear the yard of thistles and thorns and other nasty crap like this." Managing to get the point of the trowel under the root, I levered the plant out and tossed it in the compost pile.
"Oh yes, that's going to do the trick. The seeds will just spring up again, you goober. Just make sure you don't get rid of my belladonna or wolfsbane," she said, choking back a snort as I led her to the path where I'd sensed the intruder. "I take it your butt's sore?"
"Worse than diaper rash," I said. "So are the wards sounding an alarm, or were they just tripped by accident?" They were Camille's spell, and she was the only one who'd be able to sort through the variances of disruption that happened when they'd been detonated.
She closed her eyes. "No demons at play, but that doesn't mean much, considering how Bad Ass Luke conned Wisteria into working with them." Stopping suddenly, she blinked and said, "Did you know that Trillian is going to be staying with Chase until he can find an apartment? He moved in with him last night."
I blinked. Chase hadn't mentioned anything of the sort the last time I'd talked to him. "No. And just how long do you think that arrangement will last?"
Trillian was a Svartan, one of the elves' darker-souled cousins, and he'd been stringing Camille along for years. They were lovers, though at times she wasn't sure if she even liked him.
"I don't know, but it's better than what Menolly suggested," Camille said, shuddering. Our lovely troublemaker of a sister had put forth the idea that Trillian might want to room with Morio, which would have been the mother of all disasters. Of course, she'd been sporting a smirk when she made the suggestion, but both Camille and I knew that Menolly had a hankering for havoc. Her idea of fun was a rousing fight down at the Wayfarer.
"I think I've been forcing her to watch too much Jerry Springer with me," I said, rolling my eyes.
Morio, a youkai-kitsune from Japan—a fox demon-slash-nature spirit—was Camille's other lover. They had hooked up when they accidentally tripped a lust spell out near Mount Rainier, and that was all it took for the two of them to start hitting the sheets. Camille had a weakness for bad boys.
Trillian and Morio kept a cautious truce because of their shared interest in Camille, but they were clear rivals for her affection. It was a good thing that the Fae weren't monogamous by nature, or there would have been bloodshed by now, considering the amount of testosterone involved.
"Well, he isn't likely to kill Chase, since Chase is my boyfriend, but still… I hope for both their sakes—and ours—that Trillian finds an apartment soon." With a wicked grin, I added, "Bet you the arrangement lasts less than two weeks," I said, fishing a twenty out of my pocket and waving it at her.
"You're on." Camille snorted. "I'll give it three at the most." She suddenly stopped and raised her head.
"Hold on, there's something here. It's faint… but definite…"
She plunged into the bushes and knelt near the base of a large oak that watched over the wooded acreage that spread out next to our land. As she examined the tree, I scouted around the path, finding a line of footprints. The night had been clear with no rain to wash them away. They led up to the tree, then away from it again and disappeared in the middle of the tangle of huckleberry, brambles, Oregon grape, and fern.
Just then, a Steller's jay dive-bombed me from the branches of a fir, scolding at the top of its lungs. Little bugger, I thought as I waved it away. It could smell the cat on me. I wrinkled my nose and let out a little hiss, and it screeched even louder. Another jay joined it on the branch, and both perched there, eye-balling me.
"Don't you dare, unless you want to become my breakfast," I muttered.
"Delilah!" Camille's voice brought me out of my sparring match. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief and wariness. "I know what was here."
"What? What was it?" I leaned against the oak, waiting. Not a demon. Please don't let it be a demon, I thought. I was tired of demons. While I could kick ass with the best, I didn't like conflict. When my sisters got into arguments, the stress turned me into a pussycat.
"You were right, there was a Were around here," she said, her eyes flashing with silver. "And unless I'm off my game, I think he's a werepuma." She looked up at me. "He's marked the tree."
"Eww…" I wrinkled my nose, hoping he'd been in Were-form when he'd taken his territorial piss.
