0449474001339292671 4 fighting faer (3 page)

After all, weren’t you the first rat to desert my ship?”

“Okay, first of all, get control of the metaphors, Av.” Corinne stabbed the elevator button again, since she couldn’t stab her friend. “Second, I did not ‘desert’ any ships. It’s not like the Fixes were working out anyway. I mean, look at what happened to Reggie and Missy.”

“Unfortunate, true. But that wasn’t—”

“Unfortunate? Ava, they married outside their species! For God’s sake, I still can’t get used to it.

Sheesh, whoever thought we’d be talking about characters from the late, late, late movie as if they were real? It’s too bizarre.”

“Darling, I hate to break it to you, but they
are
real. Dmitri is a vampire and Graham is a werewolf. And nowReginais a vampire, as well, and Melissa is pregnant with a werewolf-to-be. This is reality. Grasp it and move on.”

“How can you take it all so casually?” Corinne demanded, giving up on the elevator and heading for the stairwell at the end of the hall. “Aren’t you the least little bit freaked out by having your entire notion of life, the universe and everything suddenly flip on its axis? Doesn’t that give you the least littlest wiggins?” She heard Ava sigh and imagined the other woman giving one of her vaguely Gallic shrugs. “It’s an ever-changing world. One must find ways to adapt.”

Corinne seriously debated making an extremely obscene gesture, but figured the effort would be lost since Ava wasn’t around to actually see it. So she just pictured it in vivid Technicolor as she jogged up the first flight. “Yeah, right. Aren’t you the same woman who just called me up to bitch about the fact that
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the two of them ‘deserted’ you and spoiled your Fantasy Fix scheme?”

“Not at all. Honestly, Rinne, what would you have me do about it? I can’t wish things back to the way they were, nor would I. Regina and Missy are happy with their impossible men. I can either be happy for them, or I can sit around and moan about how the world is not what I imagined it was.” There was a brief, significant pause. “I choose the former.”

Put that way, Corinne felt stupid, which didn’t improve her mood. She knew Ava only spoke the truth, knew her own reactions to the surreal recent developments were probably juvenile and definitely counterproductive, but try telling that to her gut. Guts, as a rule, don’t like to be reasoned with. “I know, I know,” she grumbled. “Different strokes, love makes the world go round, to each her own, Corinne is a bitch, yadda yadda yadda. I get it; I just don’t
get
it, you know?”

“There, there, dear. It will all become clear one day, I’m sure.”

“Gee, thanks.” Corinne went ahead and tucked her soda against her side so she’d have a hand free to make that obscene gesture after all. She had just grabbed the neck of the bottle again when a thought made her frown. “Hey, why are you so quick to defend Reg and Miss when you just called me up to bitch about how they abandoned your Fantasy Fix plan? That’s kind of an about face, isn’t it?”

“I just told you I didn’t call about the Fixes. I’m so over that.” Corinne pushed through the door into the central hallway on her floor and frowned harder. “Stop.

Rewind. Slo-mo playback. Say huh? If you didn’t call about the Fixes, why were you accusing me of deserting you?”

“Are you not the woman who bailed on a modeling gig booked by her struggling young agent friend, forcing the agent to scrape up an appropriate substitute just fifteen minutes before the shoot started?” Corinne’s mouth dropped open. “Ava, that was
seven
years ago!”

“There’s no statute of limitations on betrayal, now is there?”

“Okay, hanging up now.”

“Wait. Not so fast. I called for a reason.”

“Oh, you mean a reason other than to bitch and moan at me?”

“Clearly,” Ava said, her tone changing from melodramatic to business-like in a heartbeat. “I wanted to ask you about something.”

“No, Ava, I will not ask the editor to do a full color spread on the Markham Agency. Bye.”

“Will you stop jumping to conclusions? This is another matter entirely. A matter I
thought
my friend, the talented investigative reporter, could help me with.” Corinne lowered the now half-empty soda bottle and made a face. “No, I won’t rewrite all your press releases this month, either.”

“Then will you tell me if there’s some sort of weird serial killer running aroundManhattanlooking like a
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wet dream and pretending to be the guy on the Lucky Charms box?” Corinne froze right there in the
Chronicle’s
doorway. “What did you ask me?”

“You heard me. Four of my models have bailed on bookings in the last six weeks because they said they were being stalked by a leprechaun. So, either they’re insane, the coke has melted their brains, or there’s some freak who thinks St. Paddy is the perfect cover for a crime spree. Do you media types know anything about this?”

Corinne’s response was very pithy and, she thought, entirely appropriate. She cursed like a dockhand, slugged back what was left of her soda and headed back to her desk and the bottle of little white pills waiting inside. To hell with her liver.

“Shit. I need a drink.”

Luc cocked one eyebrow and tried not to look too smug, but he was glad to see someone else react to his mission the same way he had. “I brought a flask of Faerie wine, if you’d like a belt of that.” The other man scowled at him and opened a cabinet door to retrieve a graceful glass decanter of amber fluid. “Thank you, my friend, but as much as I would like to pass out and forget what you told me, I don’t think it would help you on your cause.” He poured two glasses of brandy, the red-gold color less exotic than the crimson of Faerie wine, but also less likely to knock a grown man on his ass.

Luc’s host, and his first stop on his trip through Ithir, happened to be one of the few inhabitants of the mortal world who would neither attack, nor be particularly surprised when a Faerie portal opened up in his living room. As the head of the Council of Others, Rafael de Santos had grown used to unusual occurrences.

“I don’t know,” Luc said, accepting the snifter Rafe handed him. “I’m beginning to think it might be the only thing that
can
help. At least if we’re shit-faced, we won’t realize how much this sucks.” Rafe looked at him over the rim of his glass. “Even dead, this would suck, my friend.”

“True. Speaking of dead and sucking, though, how’s Dmitri doing? I heard he got married. And I think someone said his bride was mortal.”

Rafe grinned and nodded. “He did indeed marry, earlier this spring. And “was” remains the operative word. He wed a charming young woman, who can now discard any worries over growing old. They had a lovely ceremony. Great caterer. Even better scenery.”

“Scenery?”

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The grin widened. “The bride has some remarkably attractive friends. One of whom is currently expecting the Silverback Alpha’s first cub.”

“Graham bit it too? With another mortal?” Luc shook his head and downed a gulp of his brandy.

“What’s the world coming to?”

“Mating season, apparently.”

“Does that mean you’re feeling the call of the wild, too?” Rafe shrugged. “We cats are more solitary than the Lupines. The wild only calls us for short stays, not permanent ones.”

Luc stifled a chuckle. “Yeah, so I’ve noticed. But I admit that’s a relief for me. I need all the help I can get finding Seoc. The last thing I need is for you to go off after some cute little furry thing and leave me to do this on my own. Or worse yet, some cute little mortal thing.”

“Be careful, my friend. Your arrogance and Fae-centrism are showing.” Luc shifted in his seat. It wasn’t that he disliked humans, precisely, but he couldn’t understand how an Other like Dmitri or Graham could possibly have a lasting relationship with such a…mundane creature as a human. What could they possibly have in common?

“But you needn’t worry,” Rafe continued, twirling his snifter. “It shouldn’t be difficult to find a man so determined to be seen as the Queen’s nephew.”

“You obviously don’t know the Queen’s nephew.”

“I have not had that pleasure, no. But if he continues as he has been doing, I can hardly avoid the issue.”

“Right. So if you were all so anxious to have him back in our hands, why didn’t you do something about it?”

Rafe’s shoulders lifted in a lazy, boneless shrug. “We talked about it, but we agreed that things would go much more smoothly if we didn’t try to handle this ourselves. The last thing we want is to have an inter-dimensional incident on our hands.”

Luc frowned.

“Like the kind that would happen if reports reached Mab that her nephew was being returned in a bucket,” Rafe explained with a pointed look. “Some of our people have difficulty remembering their manners during a good game of chase, Luc. Even a Fae prince can look like prey if he’s running fast enough.”

“Great.” Luc drained his brandy and set the glass aside. “So I get no help from your people because you can’t manage to keep your fangs to yourselves?”

“I never said we wouldn’t help, just that we didn’t want to do this on our own. Dmitri, damn his pale, chilly hide, has already volunteered his assistance. Which is the least he could do, considering he left his position as head of the Council to me when he married.” Rafe rose, crossed to a heavy, mahogany desk,
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and rifled through a drawer. “Of course, his idea of ‘assistance’ and mine do not exactly match. He seems to feel he’s doing his duty by leaving you this.” Luc took the piece of paper Rafe handed him and scowled. “What is it?”

“It is the name and contact information for a reporter with a small local newspaper. She is a friend of Dmitri’s mate.”

“You want me to go to the press? That’s the plan?”

“Let me remind you of the ‘Dmitri’ part of that statement.
Dmitri
left you that, not I.” Rafe resumed his seat and stretched his legs out before him in an elegant sprawl. “But the idea is not for you to let her interview you for the front page, friend. We thought someone like Corinne might have information resources that could be helpful in the search. If people have been reporting strange things in this city, they’re likely to turn up in the
Chronicle
, which means that Corinne is likely to know about them.” Now that sounded almost helpful, even if the idea of involving a human made him a little wary. “You said this woman is a friend of Dmitri’s mate. So she knows about the Others?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“But what?” Luc felt his eyes narrow into a glare.

“Corinne is perfectly aware of the existence of more than humans in this world, but from all accounts, the idea doesn’t exactly thrill her. In my experience, she maintains a certain wariness around those she knows not to be human.”

“Don’t tell me she’s some kind of racist.”

Rafe shook his head, his mouth curving up at one corner. “I wouldn’t go that far. She gives no evidence of hate, just wariness. She’s perfectly polite and friendly with Dmitri and Graham and the other pack members she’s met, as well as myself. I just don’t think she trusts us.” He grinned. “You two should have a lot in common.”

Luc snorted. “Right. Does this Corinne think you’re going to make a snack out of her?”

“Something like that.” Rafe nodded to the paper Luc still held. “That’s why we’ve given you her information, rather than telling her about you and suggesting she help out. We think things might go a bit more smoothly if you practice a wee bit of discretion when you ask for her assistance.” That didn’t sound quite so helpful. “What do you mean by ‘discretion’?” Rafe’s grin flashed quick and sharp and full of humor. “Lie.”

“Oh, that’ll make it easy to get on her good side. What, is she supposed to help me get Seoc back to Faerie out of the goodness of her heart?”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t mention the word ‘Faerie’ at all.” He sighed. “I don’t have time to spin an elaborate story to pacify some human who’s afraid of her own shadow. My goal is to find Seoc as quickly as possible and get him out of Ithir as quietly as possible.

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That doesn’t leave me with a lot of time for pussyfooting around.”

“I’m not suggesting you do.” Rafe raised his glass to his lips. “I’m also not suggesting you think of Corinne as being afraid of much of anything.”

* * * * *

“You’re a wuss.”

Corinne drained her glass of wine and rolled her eyes. “Still, if this is the revenge you have planned for your models for missing one shoot, I’m pretty sure I don’t ever want to get on your bad side.”

“You’ve been on my bad side before. You survived. Though I do reserve the right to inflict further revenge as I deem necessary.” Ava crossed her elegant, silk-covered legs and leaned back in her immaculate white armchair. “Actually, Leena and Marlie have each missed two shoots now, which not only puts them on my shit list, it also qualifies them for a lower step on my pay scale. I don’t dick around when it comes to business.”

Curling her legs up under her on the matching white sofa, Corinne had a fleeting hope that her black socks wouldn’t stain the upholstery. No matter how many times she visited Ava’s apartment, the flawlessly decorated, spotlessly white surroundings always managed to make her feel like she’d just been rolling around in a mud pit. And that made her want to actually go roll around in a mud pit and track it all over the apartment, but that’s just because she was spiteful.

“You’d think anyone you represent would know that,” she said, setting aside her empty glass and rebalancing her notebook on her lap. “Are these the same girls who reported being stalked by—er, by the…”