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He hustled me back to the sidewalk. I nervously glanced behind us but the goshanti stopped at the edge of the lot, unable—or unwilling—to go farther. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself on Morio’s arm, so tired I could barely think. Death magic sucked energy from the core, and the goshanti’s darkness was as cold as the Netherworld itself. I felt like I was standing at the bottom of a pit, looking up.
Chase and Menolly were waiting expectantly, but before we could say a word, Delilah drove up. She jumped out of her Jeep and hurried over.
“Did you find out what it is?” she asked.
Morio slid his arm around my waist, half holding me up. “A goshanti devil, straight out of the Netherworld. We can’t do anything until tomorrow. Chase, assign a few full-blood Fae out here to corral the lot, and under no circumstances allow them to enter it. Nor should they be female. The creatures are more dangerous to women than to men.”
Chase nodded, motioning to Shamas. “Get on it,” he said. Shamas took off for the prowl car. “I guess that’s it for now. We’ll wait here until everything’s set up.”
Delilah meandered over to his side. She never put an unprofessional spin on his behavior when he was on duty, but now she settled down on the sidewalk beside him. “I’ll wait with you. Can’t hurt any to have an extra body here.”
Too tired to protest that it might be dangerous for her, I glanced over at Menolly. “You heading back to the bar?”
She nodded. “Luke’s on duty but I really need to draw up a few purchase orders. We’re almost out of Mindolean brandy and we need another case of vodka.” My sister owned the Wayfarer Bar & Grill, an official hangout for both Earthside and OW Fae, as well as Supes, vamps, and Faerie Maids—FBH women looking to get it on with an Otherworldly lover. The Wayfarer originally belonged to the OIA but that had changed over the past six months.
“We’re going home,” I said. “Morio and I will come back tomorrow morning. We’ll cleanse the lot and knock its ugly butt back to the Netherworld.”
Chase gave me a two-fingered salute. “Sounds good. Be careful on the drive home. You look too tired to see straight, and I’ve seen how Fox Boy floors the gas when he’s driving.”
Morio arched his eyebrows. “Suck me dry, human,” he said, but grinned. “I’m a better driver than you are, and you know it.”
Chase flipped him a friendly bird and we turned back to my car. I handed Morio the keys and slid into the passenger seat. As he buckled himself in, my gorgeous hunk of fox demon said, “Don’t get too comfy over there. We’re still on for tonight. And before you protest, trust me—sex will make you sleep better.”
Too tired to argue, I leaned back against the leather and breathed in his musky scent. As it blossomed in my lungs, I thought about the goshanti devil and the anger that propelled her.
A lot of young women had died on that land, tortured and sacrificed to evil. In some ways, I felt sorry for the devil and the thought of driving her out bothered me, even though we had no choice. Some demons were markers of the past, there to remind us never to let it happen again. And the goshanti devil, for all her anger and fury, had been formed by great pain. I wished there was some way we could pacify her and lay her to rest without destroying her.
But I had a feeling that it wasn’t just the women’s deaths that had summoned her. Whatever was causing the current spate of paranormal activity had nourished the conditions for the goshanti’s formation. And the energy behind all the ghosties and beasties haunting the Seattle night was growing in power. We had to find out what was causing it and put a stop to it before the city became known as Haunted Seattle. Sure, it might make a great tourist attraction, but living in Spooksville wasn’t likely to be conducive to happy, healthy campers.
I stared out the window, watching the bright lights of the city pass as we headed toward the border of the Belles-Faire District where my sisters and I made our home. Morio remained silent, his eyes on the road, but I knew all the way home that he was keeping tabs on me out of the corner of his eye, standing watch to make sure I was all right. And I loved him all the more for it.>I swung a left onto a side street. Seattle was dead in the middle of the night, all the better for us, and as I slowed to twenty-five miles per hour, Chase’s prowl car came into view. As did Menolly’s Jag. Delilah’s Jeep was nowhere to be seen.
I swung in behind the patrol car and we tumbled out into the dripping night. The storm had settled in for a good drenching and I shivered. Morio noticed and reached in the car to pull out his leather jacket, which he slid around my shoulders.
We sidled up to Chase. The FBH detective was leaning against the cruiser next to my cousin. Though Chase Johnson was a good-looking man, he paled next to Shamas, who was full-blooded Fae. Shamas had that rock-star glam going on and looked a lot like me, but since he was full-blooded, his magnetism radiated stronger and sexier. He knew how to use it, too. I’d seen him bring home a dozen different women in the past two weeks after his shift was over. His mother had recently died and it seemed to unleash something in him—a darker side that I could sense but not put my finger on quite yet.
“Where’s Menolly?” I asked, looking around. For all I knew, she could be hovering in the trees, or trying out her bat form again—not such a good idea. The last time, she’d lost her concentration and gone tumbling to the ground from a three-story height.
“Over there,” Chase said, pointing to a rotting pile of lumber from what had once been a three-story mansion. “She’s playing bloodhound. Said she’s going to look for any scent of Demonkin or undead.”
I nodded, glancing at the detective’s face. He looked beat. His suit was wrinkled—a rare sight—he had bags under his eyes, and I noticed the cigarette between his fingers. The stub of his little finger had healed up fully, but as I glanced at his hands, he saw me and I noticed he tried to hide it. Still feeling vulnerable, I thought.
Ignoring his discomfort, I reached out and slapped the cigarette to the ground, grinding it out beneath my heel.
“You know Delilah won’t sleep with you if you smell like ashes.” I arched my back, trying to get the kinks out. “Smoking’s a disgusting habit.”
He stared at me, the corner of his lip twitching. “Disgusting? Let me get this straight. My girlfriend turns into a cat and eats mice and bugs and uses a litter box. Menolly drinks blood. And you—you . . .” He wrinkled his nose. “What is that stench? I haven’t smelled anything that bad since we exhumed a week-old corpse. Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Please, don’t tell me you’ve been playing with dead bodies again.”
I blushed and scuffed the ground. “Well, sure it sounds bad when you put it that way.”
Chase groaned. “You’ve been grave robbing?” He glanced past me at Morio. “The two of you?” Before I could answer, he held up his hand. “Don’t say a word. What I don’t know, I can’t run you in for. And right now, I’m neck-deep in shit and sinking fast. Just do me a favor when you’re out playing your nightmare games?”
“What’s that?” Morio said, sauntering up to my side, where he slid an arm around my waist.
“Choose bodies nobody’s claimed. Don’t raise anyone who might be recognizable. No celebrity zombies, okay?” And with that, he turned back to the taped-off crime scene. “Now, do you mind if I tell you what we’re facing?”
“It’s your nickel,” I said, leaning into Morio’s embrace. He smelled musky and sweaty and all those good things that normally set my pulse to racing. But I’d passed horny and was into chilled and exhausted. The night was a little too cold and I was a little too tired, and right now a warm nightgown, some wine, and a soft bed sounded better than anything.
Just then, Menolly returned, her eyes icy gray and her fangs extended. The only sound as she walked up to us was the clicking of the ivory beads in her cornrows. She’d tried her hair down, but said it just didn’t feel right, so we’d hired a vamp who used to be a hairstylist to come over one night and rebraid the multitude of tiny braids.
