Autumn Whispers (An Otherworld Novel) (17 page)

By the time we reached home, we were ready for hot showers. But first, we gave the evidence we’d gathered to Vanzir and asked him to check with Carter on it, to see if they could figure out anything.

Camille took off to her room, looking for a bubble bath. Shade and I trudged upstairs to wash up and change clothes. Menolly wasn’t awake yet, so we put off talking about the Wayfarer till we were refreshed.

By the time we came out of the shower, I felt halfway human again. The hot water had helped, but so had standing there after, aiming my blow dryer at various points on my body till the chill began to dissipate.

For Otherworld, I usually dressed in clothing that I’d brought from home, but now I stared at my closet, and for the first time since we’d come over I didn’t feel like returning home dressed in a tunic and trousers.

I fastened my gingham pink bra and slipped into my Hello Kitty panties, then decided on a pair of formfitting low-rise jeans in dark blue, a gray thermal long-sleeved shirt, and my Pikolinos Brujas in chocolate.

The boots were knee-high, a Euro style that looked like a cross between motorcycle and cowboy boots. The straps and buckles were ornamental, but I loved them and they were so comfortable that lately they’d become my go-to boot. With the lower heel, I could maneuver through the woods as easily as I could stride down the street.

Shade pulled on his brown cargo pants, a black turtleneck, and then his cowboy boots. He watched as I dressed, a barely concealed grin on his face.

“Sometime I’m buying you new lingerie,” he said. “Maybe Powerpuff Girls instead of Hello Kitty? A step up, perhaps?”

I grinned back. “I think they’re a little outdated. But Hello Kitty never goes out of style. At least with me.” I pulled my shirt over my head, tucked it into my pants, and tugged on my boots. “Ready to go. Oh—hold on.” I grabbed an espresso leather belt and fed it through the jean loops, then buckled it. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

After a quick kiss, we headed downstairs, and by the time we neared the first floor, I could smell dinner. Bless Hanna’s heart.

The kitchen was bustling, as it was almost every meal. Hanna had cooked up a big batch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Along with a salad, biscuits, and gravy, the food was spread along the counter buffet style. I grabbed a plate and loaded up, then slid into a chair next to Camille, who was busy working on a thigh and drumstick. She wasn’t wearing clothes from home either, but instead a black satin skirt, a plum-colored corset, and a pair of stiletto patent leather Mary Janes.

We waited till everyone was seated, at which point Menolly appeared, awake for the night. She, too, was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. Her boots, though, were stilettos. It seemed we were all on the same page.

I motioned for Menolly to sit down at the table, for once, instead of taking her usual place up in the corner of the kitchen. She liked to hang out near the ceiling, floating, where she was out of the way of the hustle.

“We have to talk about the Wayfarer.” I gave her a long look, wondering just how to tell her that her bar was pretty much gutted. And that eight, not seven, people had died.

She held my gaze, those frosty eyes of hers turning grayer every day. Vamps’ eyes did that after they were turned. No matter what color before death, they eventually turned pale and silvery. The stronger the sire, the faster the color change. And first with Dredge, and then when Roman had re-sired her, she had some of the strongest vampire blood in her system.

“I guess you’d better just blurt it out and get it over with.” She braced herself as she leaned forward. I could tell she was desperate for good news, and it tore me up that I couldn’t give it to her.

Camille reached over and took one of her hands. “It’s not good.”

I hung my head. “The Wayfarer . . . close to eighty percent destroyed. Eight people died, total. It looks like a burning candle ignited the curtains, in a locked room. We need to find out who had the keys to the rooms upstairs, and if we can account for all of them, then we have to figure it was somebody who picked the locks.”

Menolly let out a little sound, and Camille grimaced. Vampires had incredible strength and the fact that she was holding on to Camille’s hand meant she was probably squeezing pretty damned hard.

Trying to figure out a way to make things better, to shed some sort of hope on the issue, I reached out and took her other hand. “Derrick and the others were down there early this morning. They care about the Wayfarer. They care about you. They were down there to salvage what they could from the rubble.”

Shade leaned forward. “And if you need money for rebuilding, well, I’m here.” He glanced at Smoky, who inclined his head. “And Smoky. We are dragons, we have great resources.”

Menolly’s lips were pressed together, and she blinked furiously, trying not to cry. After a moment, she let out a soft murmur, then asked, “Do you have a list of the dead?”

I shook my head. “Chase will bring one tonight—if he has it ready. Also, it will take some doing to figure out if any vampires died in the fire. I imagine you and Roman will have to wait until anybody who frequents the bar comes up missing. There wouldn’t be any remains left to tell, not with . . .”

“Not with vampires because fire burns to a crisp. You’re right, of course.” She looked at me, then over at Camille. “I don’t know quite what to say. I’m . . .”

I started to say,
“Devastated?”
but realized it would be the wrong thing. Instead, I just let her words hang in midair, and so did Camille.

After a moment, Menolly pushed back from the table. “You guys eat. I’m going to make sure I have everything for our trip.” Before we could say anything, she disappeared behind the bookshelf, back into her lair. I suspected she was crying, but when Menolly wanted sympathy, she’d ask for it. Right now, the best thing to do was let her be.

I bit into my chicken and was halfway through my meal when Menolly returned. Camille and I took the time to fill everybody in on our findings that day. “I don’t know who that guy at the Farantino Building is, but Camille got pictures.” I looked over at her. “Text them to Vanzir and he and Roz can take them down to Carter’s while we’re gone. He might be able to come up with a match.”

“Good idea.” She pulled out her phone and tapped it, and a moment later Vanzir’s phone sounded a chiming sound.

He held it up. “Got them. I’ll call Carter and see if he can meet us tonight. Meanwhile, how long are you guys going to be gone?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Hopefully we’ll be home before daylight, because if not, Menolly will have to stay there for the day.” I finished my food and pushed back my plate. “I guess . . . I’m ready.”

Camille stood up. “Me too.” The doorbell rang and she smiled. “And right on cue . . . Trillian, can you get that?”

As he moved to answer the door, Roz and Smoky began helping to clear the table. Roz pulled out Tupperware containers and began to put away the rest of the food, as Hanna rinsed off the dishes, getting them ready for the dishwasher.

“How’s Iris?” I asked her, moving to her side.

“Tired. Birthing twins isn’t easy work. But she’s happy. Her mother-in-law is doting over her and making it hard for anybody to visit. I think she feels like it’s a family matter.”

I frowned. “Iris is part of
our
family, so if it’s a family matter, we’re going to be involved. But she won’t put up with the hovering for long. Right now, she needs the help, though, so we’ll let her decide when she’s had enough.”

Roz turned around. “Bruce and his family better not decide to take her away from here, I tell you that much.” He went back to putting away the food.

Camille and I exchanged looks. We both knew—in fact everyone knew—that Roz had a crush on Iris, and he had for some time. He knew better than try to act on it, though. As an incubus, there was no way he could settle down with just one woman. In fact, when he’d been changed into his current form, it had broken up a very happy marriage. But his interest was apparent, and Iris knew too, and walked a careful line not to hurt his feelings.

Vanzir returned, Chase and Sharah behind him. She looked exhausted. Chase had a worried look lingering behind the smile. Nerves, no doubt. Tonight couldn’t be much fun for either of them.

“Are we ready?” Camille gathered up her velvet jacket and purse.

Trillian picked up a duffel bag, which he slung over his shoulder. Dressed in black jeans, an expensive gray polo shirt, and a long leather duster, he looked ready for clubbing rather than for where we were going.

Shade slid into his calf-length duster—brown leather—and plopped an Aussie bush hat on his head. I shrugged on my leather jacket, and grabbed my backpack.

“I guess we’re ready as we’ll ever be.” I glanced around, making certain we weren’t forgetting anything. We’d leave the laptop at home, but take our cell phones for when we returned and were ready to be picked up at the portal. We were heading to Elqaneve instead of Y’Elestrial, so the portal out at Grandmother Coyote’s land would take us directly to our destination.

“Who’s driving us out there?”

“I will.” Vanzir had managed to get his driver’s license but he wasn’t the best driver in the world, although he tried. We’d bought him a beat up old Chevy and he was content with the occasional jaunt into town. We knew he could travel through the astral on his own, so he didn’t usually resort to travel-by-auto.

He picked up his keys and those swirling eyes of his flashed. They were impossible to pin down, a color that there was no real name for, and his spiky hair was platinum blond, in a David Bowie-as-Jareth style. He was punk in a way that punk had never been and wore the grunge jeans and ripped shirts to match.

As a dream-chaser demon, Vanzir could have easily come by far more money and charmed his way into a lavish lifestyle by draining others and confiscating their money, but he had been enslaved by Karvanak, a Raˉksasa and demon general, as a sex slave. He’d switched sides when he met us, and although he was still a loose cannon, he had proven his loyalty even though he was no longer bound to us by an oath to the death.

We headed out to the driveway after Camille wrapped herself in between Smoky and Morio, turning from one to the other with long, lingering kisses. The sparks sizzled between them, and I could practically see the energy crackle in their touch.

As I glanced over at Shade, a warmth spread through my heart. I was finally beginning to understand the depth of connection that my sister had for her men, that Menolly had for Nerissa. I’d never really connected with anybody on that level before—not in a sexual, passionate manner, but now my feelings were waking up and I had begun to realize just how strong of a bond could form between two people. Or three . . . or four in the case of my sister. The feelings frightened me, to a degree, but I couldn’t deny them.

Vanzir drove us the five miles or so to the woods where Grandmother Coyote lived. A patch of woods on the outskirts of Belles-Faire had long stood empty, and gods knew who owned it, but no development had ever taken place, no buildings graced the site. The forest was thick here, cedar and fir, vine maple and fern and huckleberries. As we crossed the grassy strip that ran along the road to enter the woodland proper, spiders stretched their webs from branch to branch, the big fat striped argiopes that called this neck of the woods home.

Their webs shimmered in the blustery night, withstanding the gusts that whipped through the woodland. Camille led the way—she had been here too many times for comfort, visiting the Hag of Fate, and each time she’d come home more shaken than she wanted to let on.

Chase and Shade helped Sharah along, and we moved slowly, making sure she didn’t twist an ankle or fall. She was a trouper, never complaining, though I could tell it was hard going for her at this point in her pregnancy. I crossed my fingers she wouldn’t go into labor before we returned. Trillian and I took the back, keeping our eyes open for any possible threat.

We pushed through the wet bracken, the sound of leaves squishing under our feet along with the occasional crunch of a breaking twig. A few minutes later, the thick undergrowth gave way, opening into a small grove. Circular, cushioned with the moss that so often overtook grass, the lea was open to the sky and a deep sensation of magic pulsed through the air. Even I could feel it, and I wasn’t a witch.

A few barren oaks stood interspersed through the glade, and Camille headed toward one. She knew the way by heart now. We reentered the forest on the other side, and stopped at the base of a huge tree. A shimmering light around the trunk formed the outline of a door. Camille ignored it, but led us past, to the twin trees behind the giant cedar. There, between them, sparkled Grandmother Coyote’s portal. And waiting patiently beside it, stood the Hag of Fate herself.