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“Nope. And when Chase and Shamas went to check it out, they encountered the same thing—some sort of spirit that scared the shit out of both of them. Shamas said the energy signature places it as being from the Netherworld, but he’s not sure exactly what it is. Chase needs to check out the body, but doesn’t want to send his men in until he knows what they’re facing.”
“And that’s where we come in.” I let out a long sigh. “Oh all right, we’ll meet you there.” I handed the phone to Morio.
“What is it?” He took the phone, softly stroking my hand in the process.
“There have been far too many reports of ghosts and zombies and ghouls lately. Something’s up and I’d like to know what’s going on.” I frowned as I put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. The Lexus could go from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, and as we sped down the street, I kept my internal radar on for cops. I wasn’t a speed demon like Morio or my sister Menolly, but right now the thought that we were on the verge of something big and ugly niggled at the back of my brain.
“Yeah, I know. Last week we took four calls about spirits, and three about zombies. Somebody around here is raising the dead and we need to find out who.”
“You mean besides us?” I flashed him a grin as he tapped my knee with one finger, sending a shiver of desire up my thigh. His mere touch was enough to set me off when we’d been running magic. “What?”
“Slow down. We’re in town. There are women and children about.”
Snorting, I eased back on the gas. “You’re one to talk. And at this time of night on a wet September evening, the only ones still out are the junkies and the homeless—and the homeless don’t usually hang out in the middle of the street.” I sighed. “I think we should just dig up every corpse around here and cremate them, seal the portals once and for all, and then take off for a nice, long vacation.”
He laughed, the smooth cadence of his voice soothing me like warm honey. “If we went on vacation, you’d be bored and complaining in no time. You want me to drive the rest of the way?”
I shook my head. “Nope . . . just stick by my side, love. Stick by my side.”
So, I guess introductions are in order. I’m Camille, the oldest of the D’Artigo sisters. And because of our heritage, we’re all a bunch of misfits, in one way or another. Our father is full-blooded Fae, our mother human. With our mixed heritage, the three of us walk between the worlds, belonging neither fully to Otherworld nor to Earthside.
I’m a witch pledged to the Coterie of the Moon Mother, and I’m the oldest of three sisters. Four, technically, if you count Arial, Delilah’s twin, who died at birth and who recently showed up to surprise us all. She’s a ghost leopard and none of us knew about her until just a few months ago.
I’ve been called everything from seductress to slut, and when people do the tsk-tsk thing about my wardrobe (elegant fetish-noir) or my lovers (multiple and none of them human), I just chalk it up to envy. They don’t have to walk in my shoes, so they can take their opinions and shove it. My magic backfires all too often. I’m addicted to makeup and coffee. And I’m certainly not the most diplomatic person in the world. But as Popeye said, I am who I am, and if people don’t like it, fuck ’em.
Delilah, the second born, is the most naïve of the three of us though she’s learning too fast what the world is really like. A werecat, she transforms into a long-haired golden tabby cat at all the wrong times. Now she also has to cope with being a Death Maiden, thanks to the Autumn Lord, and the second Were form that’s emerged for her—a black panther. She can’t control it, either. As I said, Delilah had a twin, but something happened. We don’t know what, thanks to our not-so-talkative father, but Arial died at birth. Delilah thinks Jerry Springer is god, and she has two boyfriends—one human, one not so much, though Zachary, the werepuma, was seriously hurt not long ago saving the ass of her FBH boyfriend Chase.
And our youngest sister is Menolly. Menolly used to be a jian-tu, a spy who was an incredible acrobat. But once in a while that old half-breed curse hits her and her powers falter. That’s how she ended up a vampire. She was spying on a rogue clan of vamps back in Otherworld when she literally fell into their midst. Dredge, the most horrific vampire alive, raped her, tortured her, bled her dry, and turned her. Menolly spent a year in a black fit of insanity but the OIA helped her learn to control herself and she came home to the family. Not long ago she staked her sire—a revenge long overdue.
We work for the OIA—the Otherworld Intelligence Agency. Of course, back home it’s known by another name.
What the OIA didn’t realize when they parked us Earthside is that Shadow Wing, demon lord in control of the Subterranean Realms, was bent on a plan to break through the portals that divide the realms so he can turn both Earth and Otherworld into his private little mosh pit. To do so, he needs to gather as many of the spirit seals as he can—ancient artifacts that keep the realms separate. We stumbled onto his plan and we’re now the frontline defense, trying to collect the spirit seals before he has a chance to. We’ve got four; the demons have one and that’s one too many. Four are still up for grabs. We’ve been gathering our allies, but they’re few and far between given the number of the enemy that we’re facing. So far, we’ve defeated two of his scouting squads and one of his generals—the R?ksasa who managed to get hold of the third spirit seal. But there are thousands of demons just waiting to cross through the portals. And they plan to make life a living hell for anybody who stands in their way.
As we sped through the September night, the rain splashed in fat globules against the windshield. I flipped on the wipers and thanked the gods that I hadn’t let the car dealer talk me into a convertible. Morio was busy searching in his bag. He finally pulled out a couple of Snickers bars, opened one and handed it to me.
“Here, you need the energy. So do I.”
I bit into the candy. “Thanks—needed that,” I said, my words muffled by caramel and nougat. He was so right. I was exhausted, and I knew he wasn’t far behind. Being a youkaikitsune, he was stronger than me and had more endurance.
“Smoky going to get his ass out of bed and show up?” he asked.
“Probably,” I mumbled through another mouthful of chocolate. Smoky, also my husband, was—like all dragons—concerned most with his own affairs. But he loved me. Ergo, he helped us. And his help was incredibly welcome. That tall drink of water was a force unto himself. As I finished the candy, the sugar rush hit. “I could use about ten of those, but that definitely hit the spot.”
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.”
