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“When do you want to get married? Any time you want, be it tomorrow, or in ten years. Just name the date.”
That, I couldn’t answer. I knew that—as much as I was happy to say “yes” to being engaged, I wasn’t prepared to actually get married yet. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Not yet, I know I’m not ready yet. But I am ready to promise you my future. Is that good enough for now?”
“Oh, Delilah, dirty cat box, hairballs on the pillow, Jerry Springer fantasies…it’s all part of you. And you, my love, are better than I deserve.” He pressed my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I leave it to you to name the date. I can wait—I’ve waited a long time to be with you. I’m a patient dragon.”
And, just like that, we were engaged.
Putting the Jeep in gear again, I turned back to the road, and we silently headed to the FH-CSI.
Chapter 17
As we hit the offices, Chase was waiting. He motioned for us to follow him. “Smoky, will you and the guys wait in conference room A? Camille and Delilah? Follow me, please.” He led us out the door toward the medical unit.
“Has someone been hurt? Has there been another explosion?” Camille and I were actually hard pressed to keep up with him.
He stopped abruptly and turned, his expression strained. “We’ve got a situation and it’s not one we can—or should—cover up. A woman was gang-raped an hour ago by a group of bikers from the Freedom’s Angels. They roughed her up and used a knife to carve the words Faerie Slut on her arm. I’ve got a citywide search going on, but we need to see if she can identify any mug shots.”
“This has gone too far.” Camille slammed her hand against the wall. “Something has to be done about these freaks.”
I put my hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “What can we do, Chase? You know the climate of the city better than we do. What’s going to help?”
He smiled for the first time, a tight, white smile. “First, you can talk to her, see if she tells you more than she’s telling us. Second…the way she described a couple of the men, they sound like Tregarts. The more I think about it, the more I think that the demons are infiltrating the Freedom’s Angels to divide and conquer. Look at what happened at the Davinaka Mall. Same situation. What if they stir up enough anger between the Supes and the FBHs? It’s going to be easier to come in and take over.”
“But why—if they’re working for Trytian, and were working for Stacia Bonecrusher…hold on.” A thought occurred to me that I really didn’t want to think. “We’ve been assuming that all the Tregarts were working with Stacia, against Shadow Wing, and that all of them are now working for Trytian. But what if Shadow Wing used that assumption to his benefit? What if they’ve been on his side the whole time? And what about Van and Jaycee? Do we know if they were really in Stacia’s pocket? What if they were spying on her and reporting back to Shadow Wing?”
Breathless, I dropped to a bench in the hall and leaned my head between my knees, trying to calm the swirl of thoughts running through my head. I wanted to shift, but this wasn’t the time. I needed to maintain control.
Camille sat down beside me and took my hand, looking as pale as I felt. After a moment, I let out my breath in a slow stream and sat up.
“You think they might be double agents?”
“It makes perfect sense. Suppose Shadow Wing knew about Stacia Bonecrusher’s attempted coup? And suppose he sent her over here, knowing she might betray him, to either prove or disprove her loyalty? And in the meantime, he also sent Van and Jaycee to connect with her and put her to the test. We just accepted that they were totally in sync with Stacia.” I shook my head. “We could have been totally off about everything here.”
Camille rubbed her forehead, wincing. “If that’s so, then there’s the chance that Telazhar trained Stacia at Shadow Wing’s request. That she turned on him, too? If Telazhar is in the Demon Lord’s pocket, then he’s over here looking for ways to either rip open a new portal or gate in more demons.” Camille gestured helplessly. “If we’re right, we’ve wasted a lot of time assuming Shadow Wing hasn’t been active over here for a few months.”
Chase exhaled loudly. “This mucks up the works, all right. But I need you to talk to this victim, please. Then we can figure out where to go from here.”
We nodded, mutely. If we were right, then the war had taken a darker turn. And, if we were right, then Trytian was playing right into Shadow Wing’s hands and the entire Demon Underground was in danger.
I was about to mention this to Camille when we stopped in front of the ER. Chase led us in, after knocking gently. Sharah was standing beside the exam table. The stirrups were still in position, but the victim was sitting up as Sharah stitched up slash marks on her arm. The woman was Fae, with glimmering blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. Her glamour shone through the cloud of shame and anger. She had a black eye, a busted lip, and bruises on both wrists and ankles.
Sharah nodded us over. Chase hung back. We slowly approached the table and I could see the words carved into the victim’s arm. Faerie Slut. Wincing, I looked at Sharah, waiting for her lead.
She finished stitching up the last of the cuts. “Camille, Delilah, this is Alfina. She’s from Otherworld and came over to visit Talamh Lonrach Oll.”
Alfina let out a shuddering breath and gave us a short nod.
Camille drew up one of Sharah’s swivel stools and sat down, and Sharah pointed me toward the chair at the computer where she input all the wounds and treatments going through the FH-CSI emergency ward. Sitting down was a lot less intimidating than standing up, and regardless of whether she was Fae or human, a rape victim didn’t need any more intimidation than she’d already undergone.>“Change is hard. I know you aren’t used to sharing your space.” He wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead.
Snuggling into his arm, I looked around the room. When really forcing myself to look at it, what I saw was a giant pigpen. My clothes were scattered everywhere. Two hairballs had dried on the floor, and the third that Shade had stepped in was still wet. Candy wrappers scattered across the floor beside my side of the bed, along with empty soda cans and a half-finished bag of Cheetos. My closet was a whirlwind.
On the other hand, Shade’s closet was ordered, with his clothes neatly lined up on hangers. His nightstand was clear except for what he needed. It wasn’t OCD-clean but definitely tidy. As I looked at him, at the warmth in his eyes, I suddenly understood. I was in an adult relationship. I was sharing my life and my room with a man I loved. The house might be in my sisters’ names and my name, but it was also Shade’s home. And he was here for the long run.
“Okay.” I straightened my shoulders. “How about this: We clean together. Every night, we pick up a little. I’ll clean up my hairballs and keep the litter box clean. You take out the garbage. We do laundry together. I guess it’s only fair. Hanna’s going to have her hands full with so many people here, and Iris isn’t going to be in any mood or shape to handle the work after a couple months.”
Shade brightened. “You’d do that, for me?”
“If you do something for me.” A thought occurred to me—something I knew that I probably couldn’t budge him to do without leverage.
