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As the guys sprawled out in the living room and we joined them, Iris made the mistake of telling them about the stripper.
Smoky leaned forward, his eyes whirling. “You watched another man remove his clothing for entertainment?” He glared at Camille.
“Chill out, Iris threw up on him and that killed the mood.”
Trillian snorted. “You’re lucky we live Earthside and not back in Otherworld. You’d be punching out guys right and left for the way they look at Camille there. Get used to it. Your wife’s hot and people notice.”
“Smoky, give it a rest. Trillian’s right. Just accept it and move on,” Iris grumbled. “And it’s not my fault that I have morning sickness all the damned day!” She looked hurt and Camille slipped over to give her a hug, then settled onto Smoky’s lap. His hair reached up to stroke her shoulders and entwine around her waist.
“I’ll bet the gentleman wasn’t expecting that response.” Shade laughed.
“I’m not so sure he was that much of a gentleman.” Camille repeated what the dancer had told her about the potion and the shop. “Sounds like sorcery to me. I don’t like it.”
I was about to say something when the phone rang. Yugi’s voice echoed through the line.
“Delilah?” Yugi was Chase’s second in command at the FH-CSI—the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigation unit. And he sounded so frantic I could barely understand him. “Please, we need you over here now. Sharah and Chase especially. It’s an emergency.”>Sharah leaned across the table. “Nerissa’s counseling is helping. At least Hyto didn’t infect her with any disease.”
“My sister’s a rock, though Hyto almost smashed her to bits. But she always pulls through.”
I couldn’t forgive our father, though, for not standing up for her after he knew what had happened. That he’d sat in our living room, listening as she told him what horrors the crazed dragon had put her through, and then chosen to leave, had hardened my heart to him. His own daughter, kidnapped and raped, and he walked away. Our cousin Shamas had threatened to go home and confront him about it. We persuaded him to hold off, but I had the feeling he was so pissed that he might do so without our consent.
Iris tapped her fingers on the table in time to the music as the others returned from the dance floor.
“Did you want to dance?” Menolly asked.
She shook her head. “Not the best idea. Stomach’s queasy.”
Sharah handed her a packet of saltines. “Here, these will help.”
Iris munched on them. “I see presents—and they’re unopened.” Her eyes glittered as she motioned to the stack of boxes on the side table. We’d brought gifts from the guys, too.
“Not just yet,” I said, glancing at Camille and Menolly. I’d been in charge of the party, much to their dismay, and one of the first things I’d decided was we were going to entertain Iris to the max. “Up, you two.”
Camille grimaced. “Oh please, do we have to?”
“Yes, as excruciating as Delilah’s yowls can be. We have to.” Menolly’s eyes were pale as frost, but she smiled a toothy grin. “Come on.”
A path opened in front of our table to reveal the stage and a karaoke machine. I snickered.
“You just wait. I’ll get you for this.” Camille shook her head, leaping lightly up on the stage.
“Hey, Menolly’s not complaining.”
“She can sing! You and I are pathetic…well…mostly.”
We clambered up on the stage and Menolly swung around in front of us, striking a pose with legs spread and both hands around the microphone. Camille and I took up our stations as her backup singers. The music swept in, and, with a deep breath, we dove into our rendition of “We Are Family.”
We turned on the glamour, dropping our masks so our charm shone through, and the crowd went wild, laughing with us and clapping along. We spun and twisted to the music, throwing our hearts into it. Even though Camille and I weren’t that great in the vocal department, we warbled away while Menolly carried the song. We’d been practicing in secret for over a week now, and though we weren’t polished, we were doing a pretty good job keeping a beat to the music.
Menolly leaped off the stage, carrying the microphone with her, and danced her way over to Iris. Gently lifting the sprite onto her shoulder, with another leap she made her way back onto the stage, where she set Iris down and we surrounded her, singing as she clapped and swayed to the music.
People started throwing dollars on the stage, “for the bride,” and by the time we finished, jazz hands and all, we’d collected seventy-five bucks and a couple rounds of free drinks, which put an end to Camille’s and my being able to sing anything.
“You guys are great,” Iris said as we headed back to the table. “And thank you. Presents now?”
I laughed, a little too loud, and burped. How many drinks had I managed to put away? I counted—there were only four glasses in front of me, but the Demented Zombie was one hell of a drink and packed a punch. I wasn’t sure what was in it, but it was better than catnip.
I glanced around. I’d arranged for some special entertainment for the evening and—and…there he was. The guy was fine, gorgeous, with dark hair to his shoulders. Even beneath his policeman’s outfit, it was obvious that he was ripped. I motioned to him and he sidled over to the table. The music dimmed and everyone around us turned to watch.
