Harvest Hunting (16 page)

As I finished going over the timeline from when we’d entered the house, the doorbell rang, and Nerissa led in Officer Yugi, the Swedish empath. Iris was holding Andy Gambit at bay with her wand. He was still on the floor, staring suspiciously at the Aqualine crystal. It hummed gently as Iris waved it in his face.

“Chase, I have to go. Yugi’s here.” I hung up and once again went over what had happened. Nerissa filled in the moments preceding, including the fact that Andy Gambit had pinched her butt. She wanted to press charges for assault, and I pressed them for Gambit’s breaking and entering. I also told Yugi that I’d felt threatened in my own home by the pervert and that’s why I’d punched him. Yugi hauled Gambit off in handcuffs, the reporter silent after demanding a lawyer.

As we closed the door behind them, I leaned against the wall, shaking my head. “That man has serious issues.”

“
That man
is going to be responsible for his own death one of these days.” Nerissa let out a little growl. “Somewhere, some Supe just isn’t going to cotton to his aspersions and is going to take the dude out. And I won’t be standing by his grave crying.” She let out a little moan and dropped to the sofa. “Just wait until the next issue of the
Seattle Tattler
comes out. I’ll be splashed across the front: ‘Lesbian Necrophiliac Werepuma—the
Freaks’
Representative.’ ”

She said it with a drawn-out accent, and it sounded so funny, I let out a snort. “Ha! He wishes you’d be repping him, but in some other area. Did you see the erection the dude had going on there? Scary—and while he was angry. Even scarier.”

Nerissa shuddered. “Yes, I saw it, and it turned my stomach. Why can’t these perverts realize we aren’t interested? That they don’t turn us on with their drooling and slobbering and horny one-liners that need to be retired? We aren’t masturbation bait, as much as they’d like to think so. I don’t
even
want to know what his fantasies are, but ten to one, we’re starring in his own private porn movie. Fucking jerk gives me the creeps. You mark my words, Andy Gambit will end up raping somebody one day. Honestly, I don’t
want
men like him thinking about me—in any way, shape, or form.”

“Me either,” I said softly. “The thought of someone like that fantasizing about me, or worse—touching me—makes me want to barf up a hairball.”

“Yeah, it does at that.” She shook her golden hair out of the ponytail she’d had it pulled back in. It was tawnier than mine but gorgeous, like a lion’s mane. “What happened to Camille? Is she okay? She looks kind of grim.”

“She got hit by big bad magic. Tell you about it over lunch—I’d like to wait until Luke gets here.”

“Fine by me. That will give me time to catch a shower. Menolly and I have two glorious days to spend together.” Her eyes shone. “I hope you don’t mind my staying at your house. I know it’s full.”

“We don’t mind—we love having you here.” I playfully snatched her hand and pointed to the ring. “I saw this last night. I made Menolly give it up. You guys are so sweet.”

With a soft smile, Nerissa rubbed the band encircling her finger. “I guess it’s okay to tell you since we’re wearing these openly now. Last week we said
the words
for the first time.”

I blinked. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really. We don’t know where this will lead. We’re still playing with men on the side. At least, guys who have it pulled together and aren’t like a certain wacked-out paparazzi tabloid freak we both know and hate. But our hearts belong to each other. Menolly’s an amazing woman, and I’ve never felt so close to anyone in my life as I feel toward her. She knows me, inside and out.” The look on her face backed up every word.

“Listen . . . let me tell her about Gambit. She’s going to find out, but if you tell her, she’ll go off half-cocked and wipe the dude off the face of the planet for what he said to you. And that would not be a good thing, as much as we’d like to see it happen.”

“Sure,” she said with a wistful look. “But I can dream, can’t I?” With a laugh, she took off for the hall bath. Nerissa had spent enough time here. She knew where the towels were.

As I stood there, watching the back of the Amazon goddess as she headed down the hall, I could only hope that things worked out better for them than they had for Chase and me. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Iris answered and led Luke in.

“Have you found out anything about Amber?” he asked, scanning the room quickly.

I shook my head. “We have some news, but now more questions. Iris, can you help Camille get her ass in here?”

I motioned for Luke to join me in the living room. He slid into one of the upholstered armchairs and crossed his legs, tapping on the end table with his fingers.
Nervous.
Beneath the scruffy exterior, I could see the glimmer of trouble in his eyes. His long ponytail was neatly caught back, and he looked like he was trying to keep his composure.

Camille slowly made her way to the sofa, looking exhausted. Iris brought her a blanket and then quickly vanished with the promise of tea and cookies.

Luke looked at Camille for a moment, then sniffed the air. “What the hell happened to you? I smell something . . .” He stopped short and growled.

“Wolf Briar.” I said the words as gently as I could, but he jerked his head up, his face a wash of fear.

“No . . .
no
. Where the hell did you run into Wolf Briar? I didn’t know that crap could affect a non-Were. Unless there’s something about Camille that I don’t know.” He bit his lip and then let out a soft sigh as the words sunk in. “Not . . . Amber?”

“When we went to Amber’s room, we found a trap. It exploded all over Camille. Definitely Wolf Briar. Apparently it messes something fierce with magical energy like Camille possesses. Damned stuff paralyzed her. We had to call in the medics.”

“And my sister?”

I could tell he was holding his breath, and I shook my head. “We don’t know. She’s gone. Her clothes are there, her purse and keys. But Amber’s gone. A strange magical signature was left behind in the room. We have no idea what’s going on.” I paused for a moment. “Do you think Rice would use Wolf Briar to capture her?”

Luke winced. “I’d like to say yes, because that scumbag will use just about any dirty trick in the book . . . but
Wolf Briar
. . .” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine a werewolf using it on another werewolf. They’d have to be a psychopath, and while Rice is a sadistic bastard . . .” Wiping his hands on his knees, he finally looked up at me. “I don’t know, but I’m not inclined to think so.”

“Is there a way to find out if Rice is in Arizona right now? If so, he can’t be the one who actually used it, though I suppose he could have hired somebody.”

Luke frowned. “I don’t have any connections down there anymore. Amber was the only one from the Pack that would talk to me. Except . . .” He frowned, then stood and paced over to the window. “I had one buddy. He’s an expatriate from the Pack, too—but he stayed down in the desert. I haven’t heard from him in ages, but I can try to contact him. He might be able to find out for us.”

As he pulled out his cell phone and began flipping through the contact list, it occurred to me that Luke was very much like us. He was a Windwalker, a nomad without roots. He’d been cast out. We lived between worlds. More and more it seemed like too many people had nothing to anchor themselves to except the family they could create from their friends.

“Hey, while you’re looking for his number, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? We’re going to be putting on a huge spread here, and you’re more than welcome to join us. Your sister, too, once we find her.” I wasn’t about to put a damper on the offer by hinting that I thought Amber was dead.

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Camille shifted on the sofa, looking more tired than I’d seen her in a long time. “Damn this stuff. I can’t feel my connection to Trillian, Morio, or Smoky—the links are clouded from the Wolf Briar.”

Luke glanced up at us over the screen of his phone, his gaze softening. “Thank you—I appreciate the offer. Menolly hinted at it, but I didn’t want to barge my way into a family gathering.” He stopped. “Here it is. Jason’s number. Let me give him a call . . . we haven’t talked in over a year.”

As he moved to the other side of the room and made his phone call, I motioned to Iris. “Any chance of getting some lunch? Nerissa will be back from her shower soon.”

“It’s on the stove. I started it when Camille called.” The house sprite bit her lip, then sat down next to Camille. “I am going to need some time off this winter. And I was wondering . . . Camille, could you and Smoky and Roz come with me if there’s any way that you can tear yourselves away from here?”

Camille blinked, then sucked in a deep breath. “Is it regarding . . .” She stopped, staring at Iris. It was obvious that she knew something I didn’t.

“Yes. I think I’ve found a way, but it’s dangerous, and I need help.”

“Hold on here, you two. What’s going on?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

Iris glanced at Camille, who gave her a nod.

“You’re going to have to tell Menolly and Delilah at some point, especially if the boys and I accompany you to the Northlands.”

“Northlands? You’re making a trek all the way to the Northlands? Why?” One look at Iris’s face told me she wasn’t anticipating it with joy. More like dread. More like
rabid fear
.

“I’ll tell you and Menolly later, when the boys are back. I suppose . . . it’s time my secrets came out to more than just Camille. And don’t yell at her—I asked her to keep my confidence because it doesn’t affect the war against Shadow Wing. I needed time to reconcile myself to what I must do.”

Wanting nothing more than to prod her secret into the open, I forced my curiosity back to acceptable limits and gracefully refrained from harassing my friend.

“Sure, no problem,” I said, reaching out to give her a quick hug. “Whatever you need. I can wait.”

“You lie, but you’re sweet. You’re champing at the bit to know what’s going on. But it will hold till later. Right now, let me go get lunch on the table. I hear Nerissa in the hall—make sure she can find the blow-dryer, will you?” And before I could say another word, she vanished back into the kitchen.

Camille shook her head when I turned to her. “Don’t even try. Leave it to Iris to tell you herself. But hang on for one hell of a roller-coaster ride. Remember that spell she cast at Stacia Bonecrusher’s? When she turned the Tregarts inside out?”

My stomach lurched, but I nodded. “Yeah, I remember. All too vividly.”

“It has something to do with her magic—and her past.”

Luke rejoined us then. “I talked to Jason. He’s still alive, so that’s good. Lone werewolves have a rough time walking separate from the Pack. Anyway, he’s going to see what he can find out through the grapevine. He wasn’t exiled until after he chose to leave, so he’s not nearly the pariah that I’m considered.”

“Lunch!” Iris called from the kitchen.

I took the roundabout way, stopping in the guest bath to check on Nerissa, but she’d already found the blow-dryer and was squeaky clean and pulled together.

“Ready for something to eat? Iris fixed lunch.” I motioned for her to follow me. We wandered into the kitchen, and I glanced at the clock. Three P.M., a little late for lunch but far too early for dinner.

Iris had prepared homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, along with a fruit salad and a dizzying tray of cookies. I clapped my hands.

“Cookies!”

Camille snorted. “You and your cookies.”

“I can’t help it. I love sweets.” And I did. I slid into my chair and dutifully bit into the sandwich and spooned up soup, both delicious, but my eye was on the prize: sugar cookies . . . oh yeah.

As we ate, the door opened, and the Demon Twins came thumping in. They’d left their coats and muddy boots on the back porch and looked chilled. Roz and Vanzir slumped down at the table, and Roz reached for a cookie. Iris slapped his hand smartly.

“Lunch first, and
then
dessert. Wash up, and I’ll fix your plates.” She hustled to the counter as they contritely shuffled over to the sink, where they washed their hands. Iris rustled up two more bowls of soup and sandwiches.

Roz bit into his sandwich, sighing as he leaned back. “Before you ask,” he said between bites, “nothing. Zip. We struck out as to any clue where the other four spirit seals might be hiding.”

“Crap. Well, you tried.” I picked up my bowl and—despite Iris’s shake of the head—chugged down the rest of my soup. “Yum, that was so good I’d like another bowl and another sandwich.” Meanwhile, to tide myself over, I snatched a cookie.

Iris glanced at Camille. “You, too?”

“Yes, please. I’d help, but I feel like death warmed over.” She frowned at me, and after a second, I caught her meaning.

I jumped up. “Iris, let me do that. You sit down and eat.” I took over the stove as the house sprite gratefully slid onto her high stool and began eating. As I raised the spatula and said, “Anybody else?” the front door opened.

“Anybody else what? And what do I smell?” Smoky popped his head in the kitchen. “Food?” His glacial eyes lightened.

“Food, yes. Plenty of soup, and I’m slapping more sandwiches on the griddle.” I held sway with the stove as Morio, Smoky, and Trillian wandered in. They hung up their outer-wear and gathered around the table. But one look at Camille ended their jovial moods.

“Camille . . . what the fuck happened to you?” Morio was blunt and to the point, and the moment he spoke, the three of them were hanging over her like bees on a flower petal.

“I’ll be all right,” she said, waving them to sit down again. “Just sit down, and we’ll tell you what happened.”

“Somebody needs to fill Menolly in on everything when she gets up,” I said, flipping the sandwiches as they browned on one side. The smell of melting cheese and buttered, hot bread wafted up, and I realized I was still starving. Our metabolisms ran higher than most FBHs, and it seemed like we were always eating. The food back home in Otherworld generally had more substance to it, and we filled up faster there.