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My little attempt at humor had landed as flat as roadkill. I cleared my throat and turned back to Vanzir, who was delicately wiping his mouth. He ate very little, and I wondered just what his natural form of food was. I didn’t bother asking. I might not like the answer.
“Go ahead. We’re listening.”
Getting nods from around the table, he said, “Okay, I’ve located a nest of venidemons. Not sure how they got here, but they’re usually only found in the Sub Realms. Nasty buggers, though.”
Shit. Venidemons—venomous demonic blowflies from the Subterranean Realms. They were nearly as big as my head and were damned fast for their size. Using their needlelike stingers, they injected a butt load of toxic soup into the bloodstream. Along with the toxin, which paralyzed within seconds, was a mess of eggs, which hatched within twenty-four hours and began nibbling the victim from the inside out.
“Damn parasites.” Camille grimaced. “Hate parasites.”
Smoky tenderly reached over to brush back a lock of her hair. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he said, then went back to his own breakfast.
She arched her eyebrows and gave me a quick grin. If Smoky had his way, she’d be secreted away in that barrow of his, safe from all unwelcome visitors—and other suitors. Sometimes the Stones were right, though, and we couldn’t get what we wanted. So Smoky had settled for joining our exploits, even though he had little interest in anything other than whatever he happened to fancy at the time. Dragons made great mercenaries, if you paid them enough. Apparently Camille’s hand in marriage had been enough to ensure his help.
“Crap,” I said. “I suppose we have to wipe them out. Are they under guard or being left to their own devices?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. They have a guardian. I’m not sure what it is—could be a ghost or a wight. Whatever the case, their guardian is both powerful and from somewhere other than the Subterranean Realms.”
“Oh great.” I stabbed another piece of pancake. “That sounds just delightful—” The phone rang, putting a stop to my rant. I jumped up and grabbed it. “Hello?”
“I’d like to speak to Chase Johnson.” I didn’t recognize the voice, but it was clearly a woman and unsettlingly smooth and sexy.
I stared at the receiver for a moment, then asked, “Sharah?” even though I knew full well it wasn’t her.
“My name is Erika. I’m looking for Chase Johnson and was told he might be at this number.” Again, the husky, breathy voice that reeked of sex and designer wear and cognac.
Wait a minute—Erika? Hadn’t that been the name Chase had muttered during his sleep, before I put the fang on him? What the . . . ?
I paused for a second, debating on what to say. “I’m sorry, Chase isn’t available. He’s probably at work. May I take a message?”
She laughed, and her laughter conjured up images of sultry summer nights. “No, I know where his office is. Thank you, anyway.” There was a sudden catch in her voice, and she added, “I take it this is Delilah? Chase’s friend?”
I held my breath and counted to three. “Girlfriend. This is Chase’s girlfriend. And you are?”
For the first time since she’d spoken, Erika’s voice took on an edge as she said, “I’m Chase’s ex. We used to be engaged. Oh well, thanks anyway. I’ll catch up to him in a bit.”
And then the line went dead.
I stared at the phone blankly before slowly replacing the receiver. Chase had never told me he’d been engaged. He’d never told me about any serious relationships in his past. I shouldn’t be jealous. I was half-Fae, my father’s blood almost guaranteed me freedom from jealousy. But there it was, simmering in the pit of my stomach. A little worm that wanted to find this Erika, whoever she was, and claw her eyes out. And why the hell had Chase been dreaming about her? Had he seen her already and not bothered to tell me? Or was it some weird coincidence that made fate seem like a first-class bitch?
Whatever the case, I couldn’t worry about it now. We had a nest of venidemons to go after before I could give in to the green-eyed monster that was really bedeviling me.
CHAPTER 3
“Iris, is Henry taking over the shop today?” Camille asked as we geared up for battle, which basically meant arming ourselves with anything we thought might come in handy.
Henry was an FBH whom Camille had hired to help out at the Indigo Crescent—her bookshop—during times when neither she nor Iris could get there.
As part of our OIA cover stories, we’d been assigned jobs when we first arrived Earthside. Camille ostensibly owned the Indigo Crescent, a bookshop. I ran a low-budget PI business, D’Artigo Investigations. And Menolly had clocked in at the Wayfarer Bar & Grill as a bartender on the night shift.
Now, Camille really did own the Indigo Crescent, my PI business was spotty at best, and Menolly had taken over as owner of the bar. If the HR department at the OIA ever returned to its former bureaucratic glory and turned their attention back Earthside, they were going to be in for a bit of a shocker.
The Talon-haltija nodded. “Yes. And I asked him to stay all day. Since your wards were broken by the bloatworgle, I’ve decided to do a little research on my own and find out what I can. I know there are natural repellents to bloatworgles and their kin, but it’s been so long since I had to protect the Kuusis’ land that I can’t remember what they were. Bruce and I are meeting for lunch. So I thought that I’d run over to the Alysin te Varden Lending Library before our date and find out what I can. I’ll take Maggie with me.”
One of the newest Fae-oriented establishments in Seattle, the Alysin te Varden Lending Library was named for an elf who’d been killed down in Portland, Oregon. A group of Freedom’s Angels gang-raped her, beat her senseless, and left her to die. And die she did. Our cousin Shamas had managed to help catch the culprits. The DNA evidence proved them guilty, but the men mysteriously turned up dead in jail before they could stand trial.
The library was a joint enterprise between three OW Fae, who hearkened from the Southern Wastes in Otherworld, three members of the newly risen Courts of Fae: one Seelie, one Unseelie, and one of the newest Court, one of the dusk Fae. In addition, two members of the Rainier Puma Pride and two members of the Elliott Bay Orca Pod had joined the effort.
The Elliott Bay Orcas were the newest band of Weres to come out of the supernatural closet. They were killer whale Weres, and with the rise of the Supe community project I was spearheading, they had not only made themselves known but had taken the reins on a restoration project to clean up Puget Sound.
