Demons and Lovers (11 page)

Zombies
: I do not want to talk about Zombies. You can’t make me.

Chapter 1

Sprites, Brownies, and Goblins, oh my. It had been a hell of a week that didn’t want to end.

“Remind me. Why are we in here on a Saturday?” My human PI partner, Olivia DeSantos, mumbled as she uncrossed her ankles, took her orange Keds off the desktop, and shoved her chair back.

I glanced at her black T-shirt, stretched over her melon-sized breasts that read:

I sometimes go to my own little world, but that's okay. They know me there.

Olivia always wore T-shirts with sayings that ran from the amusing to the disturbed. Sometimes I worried about her.

“Somewhere to be today?” I closed a folder on my desk and leaned back in my chair.

“Anywhere but here.” Olivia stood and stretched her compact five-foot-two frame.

Before she came to work for me, Olivia was formerly on the NYPD SWAT team and she had a third degree black belt in karate. She spoke several languages and was even starting to pick up Drow—primarily the curse words I let fly out of my mouth every now and again. Olivia’s skin was like dark brown silk, thanks to her mother being from Kenya and her father from Puerto Rico.

I, on the other hand, am half Drow, one of the Dark Elves, and I turn a light shade of amethyst when the sun goes down.

Yes, amethyst. Olivia would say purple, but it’s amethyst, and I’d appreciate it if you remember that.

I am half-human as well. During the day I am Nyx Ciar, human-looking paranorm PI. After sundown I am Drow and a Night Tracker.

“I’m
done
.” Olivia grabbed her New York Mets sweat jacket off the back of her chair and slipped it on. “I think I’ll take the GTO out for a spin. Wanna go for a ride?”

“Not today.” I was not in the mood to let her take my life in her hands—the way she drove I never knew if it was my last day on this Earth Otherworld. I grabbed my phone and Coach purse and got to my feet. “I have to take care of a few things. Rodán wants to see me this afternoon.”

“Personally, I think he’s never gotten over you.” Olivia smirked. “That’s why he wants to see you so often.”

“That’s far in the past for both of us.” I rolled my eyes. “Rodán couldn’t settle for less than multiple partners for any length of time. He’s just made that way.” And he was. Erotic, sensual, seductive…Rodán, one of the Light Elves and my mentor, as well as Proctor of the New York City Night Trackers, was all of those things and more.

“I’ll deal with the Gnomes on Monday.” Olivia’s black eyes snapped with fire. “They’re going to regret what they did to Macy’s.”

I nodded. “Once we find them.”

“We will.” Olivia said it as if it was a done deal. “Unless you get to them first when you go tracking tonight.”

“Not likely.” I blew out my breath. “I’ve got Metamorphs to locate and deal with.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “Good luck.”

Fae bells tinkled on the office door when she let herself out and the door thumped shut.

I wrapped up what I was doing, locked the front door and headed into the chill winter air. I jogged up the stairs to my apartment, which was one of several over the PI office.

Using my elemental magic, I unlocked my apartment door and pushed it open. I closed and locked the door behind me, dropped my purse on the floor, and slumped into my favorite chair. It was barely noon but it felt like a Monday that had just started and I was struggling trying to catch up.

Saturdays should never feel like Mondays. It was a law against nature or something.

A yowl made me groan. “Kali, please give me a break.” Another yowl and I raised my head to see my Persian carrying what had been one of my satiny new Victoria’s Secret bras into the living room—completely shredded. She had a mean glint in her eyes and I knew most of the rest of my lingerie drawer had suffered the same fate, consequences of my being away from home most of the week.

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling again before I sighed, pushed myself to my feet, and headed for the kitchen. “Fine,” I grumbled before finding and opening a can of Fancy Feast, scooping some out and onto a plate to warm it a little in the microwave, and then serving it in her favorite Waterford crystal bowl. I’d tried using a regular plate or bowl to serve her food, but she’d made it clear by attacking my bustier that she wasn’t having any of it.

Damn cat.

After leaving Kali to her lunch, I headed back into my living room and heard a knock at the front door. I wasn’t expecting anyone and had no idea who it might be.

“It had better not be someone selling magazine subscriptions,” I muttered as I went to the door and jerked it open.

My lips parted in surprise when I saw Rodán. He was nothing less than gorgeous with his long white-blond hair and elegant features, one of the most handsome men in existence. Rodán hadn’t been to my apartment in ages. When he wanted to speak to me, he always summoned me to his nightclub. He’d already requested my presence for tonight, so there was no reason for him to be here.

As a matter of fact, he never left the club during daylight.

Something was wrong, really wrong. I knew it with everything I had.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “What’s happened?”

Without a word he stepped into my apartment, swept me into his arms, and kissed me.

He tasted like grass. Dry, dust-coated grass.

Not Rodán! Not Rodán!

My first reaction was to jerk away. I wanted to puke from kissing what I realized in that moment was a Metamorph, one of the cursed.

Shock and revulsion threw me off guard. I’d just kissed a disgusting Metamorph. The fact that the being had managed to get this close to me, without me realizing what he really was, added to the shock. And the fact that he looked like Rodán… How?

He had a gun to my temple before I could blink. The gun didn’t faze me. Even in my human form I could have taken out a single Metamorph.

The thoughts flashed through my mind all at once, but it was enough time for more Metamorphs to charge through the door, causing me to stumble back. Eight more Metamorphs had just rushed through the open doorway and surrounded me.

If I’d been in my Drow form, with my Drow strength, dragon clawed daggers, and my elemental magic, I would have taken on all of them.

I started to call my air element to aid me when one of the Metamorphs behind me slapped a cloth over my nose and I smelled something acrid.

The floor dropped out from under me.

Everything went black.

Chapter 2

Like a metal ball in one of those old pinball machines Rodán kept at the nightclub, the earth spun. Whirled. Bounced. Pinged. Every time I thought I would rush down into oblivion, something hard would smack me back into a spinning orbit.

What is happening to me?

I couldn’t think clearly. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning like that metal ball. Where was I? Why did I feel like that tiny pinball had smashed me like a wrecking ball? My whole body was one big mass of pain. I felt fluid trickling from my nose and over my lips, and tasted blood.

“Look at me, Tracker.” At the sound of the male’s voice I startled. Could a voice be hard and cold, yet amused all at the same time? Apparently it could. “Now, Tracker.” The word
Tracker
was said with clear disdain.

I blinked open my eyes and tried to focus on what I saw in front of me. The images of three human males were wavering and trying to merge into one. Finally they became one and my head spun a little less. The male was dressed like a NYPD officer and he was holding a baton streaked with blood. My blood.

The smell of alyssum, like newly mown hay, meant there was a Metamorph close. The strength of the smell told me there was more than one. At least two, maybe three. Despite my muddled state, I was pretty sure the male I was staring at was a Metamorph, one of the damned, the cursed. Or rather the male I was looking at was the reflection of the human whose appearance the Metamorph had taken.

“Thought I’d get the beating out of the way.” The male snapped his baton then returned it to its place on his duty belt. “You’ll be less likely to draw out a game that you’ll lose…Nyx of the Dark Elves and Night Tracker.”

Connect the dots, Nyx.

Chills rolled down my arms. This being might be one of the damned, but he was more dangerous than any I had met before. How did he know who I was?

I knew I was in my human form because I sensed it was still daylight and I felt the differences in my body. So how did the Metamorphs know how to find me during the day or even know that I was a Night Tracker?

Night Trackers patrolled their territories to make sure scum like Metamorphs who broke the laws were eliminated or taken off the street and put into the detention center. It depended on the severity of the crime as to the Metamorph or other paranorm’s sentence.

The dizziness came back as I looked around the room I was in. Instead of some windowless interrogation room, we were in a large kitchen with peeling wallpaper and cracked and chipped laminated flooring. I was sitting on a chair in the middle of the cramped space. A dining table was shoved against one wall along with three brown wooden chairs, the varnish darkened with age and worn in places. Apparently I was in chair number four.

“Tracker filth.” The male crouched in front of me. Instantly, from his powerful alyssum smell, I knew that he definitely was a Metamorph. “I’m Tom Smith. Remember my name, because I decide whether you live or die.”

He moved ever closer to me, placed his finger against my forehead, and I shuddered with revulsion as I felt the touch of the cursed. Sheer reflex had me moving my head back but he followed my movement, keeping his finger pressed to my skin.

Bits and pieces of memory came back to me as my mind began to clear. More chills rolled through my body. I stared at Smith at the same time as thoughts of how they had captured me flashed through my mind. My stomach churned.

A Metamorph had taken on Rodán’s form and had kissed me.

I’d realized too late that it was one of the cursed.

Right now I wanted to shake my head, shake off the memory. But my head hurt too much to move it. My stomach churned as I glared at Smith. Metamorphs had gotten me.
Metamorphs
.

The fog in my mind started to dissipate a little faster. Everything raced through my head so fast that I was almost dizzy from the thoughts. What were the Metamorphs doing? What did they want?

I narrowed my gaze at Smith. I wanted my hands around the Metamorph in front of me so badly I could almost feel myself squeezing his neck. Feel it snapping. I attempted to lunge forward but my arms jerked against chains and metal cuffs bit into my wrists. The legs of the chair I was in scraped the floor as I struggled. I snarled and tried to lash out with my feet. They wouldn’t move. Metal ankle cuffs dug into my skin.

When I looked down at my shackled ankles, my long, tangled black hair fell over my eyes. Blood dripped from my nose onto my pale cream blouse and slacks. My clothing was torn, bloody, filthy. My shoes were missing, leaving my feet bare.

When I fisted my hands, pain flared through me, causing me to fully take in the fact that they’d beaten me while I was out cold.

The elements. I could take care of this whole situation and be done with it. A small cyclone would do.

With all that I had I called to the air element, trying to bring it to me. Nothing. The handcuffs that bound me had to have been treated with elemental magic.

I called to my earth element hoping that I was wrong. But my second attempt just reaffirmed the fact that I had been restrained with cuffs that should not have been able to hold me.

Smith looked amused. “Where’s your magic, Tracker?”

My jaw ached from grinding my teeth so hard. The specially made cuffs weren’t supposed to affect Trackers. They’d all been altered to recognize every one of us in New York City so that it wouldn’t affect our magic. How had these Metamorphs been able to contain me? I tried all four elements and none of them came to my aid.

I frowned in concentration. Maybe I had to shift into my Drow half to neutralize the cuffs so that I could use my elements again.

“Don’t even think to try anything,” Smith was saying. “You are mine now.”

Mentally I shook my head. No, Smith was wrong and I knew it with every fiber of my being. I sensed that nightfall was approaching and it wouldn’t be long until I would be Drow once again. None of the Metamorphs would be getting out of this place alive once I was through with them.

My hair was in my eyes and stuck to the blood on my cheeks when I raised my head.

I almost smiled when I saw the stove three feet away on my right and the sink two and a half feet away on my left. Fire. Water.

If I could get out of these cuffs I’d be able to use the elements of fire and water and either toast or drown these creeps.

I was leaning toward the idea of toasting them. Although both drowning and toasting at the same time sounded very appealing.

Smith got to his feet. “I’m going let you watch me cut your boyfriend into itty bitty pieces.”

Rodán? Smith must mean him since he’d been the one who had been impersonated to catch me. But that couldn’t be? How could any being possibly capture Rodán?

Fear and instinct drove me to try to lunge for Smith’s throat. The chair only rocked and I wanted to scream with rage as my bindings held me fast.

“Underworld sloth.” I glared at the Metamorph. “The pieces I cut off of you won’t be so tiny if you dare hurt him.”

Smith slapped my bruised face so hard that my head snapped to the side. The pain caused me to grit my teeth, but the effort to not cry out was worth it as I turned slowly to glare at him again.

He scowled as he wiped his palm on his black pants. “Your Proctor’s life is getting shorter every minute you mess with me, Tracker.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” My face hurt as I hurled each word at the Metamorph.

“I was misinformed about the whereabouts of tonight’s Paranorm Council meeting.” His question surprised me enough to cause me to blink. “The council gathers at sundown and my men are ready to greet them on my order.”