Harvest Hunting (8 page)

Surprisingly, all of the men were handy with a hammer, and over the past month, they had taken care of all the little odd jobs the house needed, including storm windows being installed in place of single-pane.

Camille dropped the steno pad on the table and glanced through the page. “How did everyone do today with what we’d planned out? Not much on the agenda but the wedding.”

“Shouldn’t we just have our tea and call it a night?” Trillian asked, flashing Camille a suggestive look. Tonight she was all his, and we all knew it. He’d made sure everyone knew it.

Trillian had also proven to be a surprise. Ever since he returned from the war, he’d still been his arrogant self but more willing to help and less combative. He was a strong proponent of Iris’s nightly tea parties, and was now addicted to Earl Grey tea with lemon and honey, which he preferred drinking from a bone china cup. Definitely a side of the Svartan that nobody outside of the kitchen would ever guess.

Camille shook her head. “Have to do the agenda stuff. We’ve gotten to the point where we need to keep track of things. But yeah, not much on here for today. What about tomorrow?”

“I want to start checking into the disappearance of Luke’s sister,” I said. “I could use some help. What’s going on down at the shop?”

She frowned, and a pale light passed through those gorgeous violet eyes of hers. “They’re almost done with the remodeling. We can open back up in three weeks. I’m not sure how I feel about it, though. Every time I go in there, I’m going to be thinking about how Henry died.”

“That will ease. And you know he’d want you to use that money he left you to expand the shop like he’d planned.” Iris patted her shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”

Henry had left Camille a considerable sum of money, surprising us all.

“I thought everything would be fine when I hired him to work for me. But look what happened. Now he’s dead and . . .” Camille let out long sigh. “Never mind. At least I’ve found somebody skilled in martial arts to take over managing it for me. I miss being there every day, but with the constant threat from Shadow Wing . . .” Again, her words drifted off.

Vanzir leaned back in his chair. “You won’t be sorry you hired Giselle. She knows her stuff. You wait and see—I promise.”

I glanced over at him, and he gave me a quick wink. Once in a while Vanzir let down his guard, and a little bit of humanity showed through that demon heart of his. He’d found Giselle for Camille without being asked. The she-demon was part of the Demon Underground and had been living Earthside for thirty years. Carter, our main contact to the Earthside demonic forces, had also vouched for her. Giselle was anti- Shadow Wing, and she hated snakes. And anything to do with snakes. Including Stacia Bonecrusher.

“I’m holding you to that promise,” Camille muttered. “My customers expect someone who understands the nature of books.”

I cleared my throat. “Let’s get this wrapped up.” I popped a couple Oreos as Iris and Roz passed around teacups and a plate of cookies. “So, will you have time to help me tomorrow? To look for Amber, I mean?”

Camille nodded. “Yeah, but the guys are busy, I think.”

Smoky leaned over her and swiped a couple of the cookies. “Morio is coming with me out to my barrow to do some autumn cleaning, and I need to check on Georgio.”

“What about you?” I looked up at Trillian.

He shrugged. “Sorry. I’m taking care of some work around the house for Iris that needs to be done before winter hits.”

With a sigh, I turned to Rozurial. “I suppose you’re busy, too?”

The incubus shook his head. “Vanzir and I are scouting out another lead on the Bonecrusher. Probably another false alarm, but we have to make certain. We can’t let anything go by that might give us a clue to her whereabouts.”

“How the hell can a demon general of her stature get lost in this city, I want to know? And that’s rhetorical.” Camille jotted everybody’s plans down on the steno pad as a noise from the living room broke the silence.

“Sounds like Nerissa’s coming around,” I said, and Menolly nodded, lightly touching back down to the floor. She was through the arch before I finished speaking.

“I guess that’s it. Menolly will be sleeping, and Shamas will be working, of course. Iris—what about you?” Camille put down her pen and looked up at the house sprite.

Iris shrugged. “Typical day. Take care of Maggie, clean up around here, and then Bruce and I will finish harvesting the last of the herbs for the season.”

“I guess that covers it,” I said as the phone rang. Being closest, I answered. “Hello?”

Chase’s voice rang over the line. “Delilah, we have a problem.”

“What?” Whenever Chase called late at night with a problem, it was usually a doozy.

“There’s mayhem down on the docks near Exo Reed’s joint—the Halcyon Hotel & Nightclub. Big fight going down. I need as many of you as I can get down there. ASAP.” The phone slammed down in my ear.

I turned to the others, groaning. “Nobody’s going to bed. We’ve got trouble at Exo Reed’s. Chase needs us. Iris—you and Bruce stay with Maggie and Nerissa. Everybody else, get changed double time, and let’s hit the road.”

A glance at the clock made me wince. We were all tired, but we had to be ready 24/7 when it came to phone calls in the middle of the night. I just prayed that we weren’t going into a major battle against Stacia tonight. We needed to find her, yes, but man, I just did not want to face her smelling like skunk, worn out, and grungy.

“Crap, and double crap.” I slid into a pair of ripped jeans and an old sweater. “I’m going in there reeking, and anything with half a nose will smell me.”

I shimmied the pants up over my thighs and pulled on the sweater. As I shook my head and looked in the mirror, I caught my breath. With the dark olive sweater and the black jeans, my new spiked-up multicolored hair lit up the green of my eyes like never before. For a moment, I didn’t recognize myself.

“Whoa.” I turned, first one way, then the other. I looked like I had balls now. Kick-ass, no-more-tears balls. And it looked good.

“Get a move on!” Menolly’s voice echoed from downstairs, and I shook myself out of my reverie and grabbed Lysanthra, my dagger, and carefully slid her into my boot sheath. She and I had a wonderful relationship, and I never went into a fight without her now.

I raced down the stairs just in time to see Camille and the guys come out of their room, and surprise number two in the dress department: no skirt. Camille was in a black velvet jumpsuit with flared legs. A silver belt rode low around her waist, and granny boots completed the retro sixties vision. She looked like Catwoman or Emma Peel, only with better cleavage. The guys were wearing jeans and tops easy to fight in, and we clattered down the stairs together.

Menolly had changed out of her gown and was wearing jeans, a turtleneck, and a denim jacket. Roz had on his usual duster-cum-armory. Vanzir was rocker-chic, of course, and we headed out to the cars without a word as Iris bolted the door behind us.

We split up into three groups. Camille and her men jumped in her Lexus, Roz rode shotgun with Menolly in her Jag, and Vanzir hopped into the passenger seat of my Jeep. Following Camille, we eased out onto the road and headed for the docks and the Halcyon Hotel.

Exo Reed was a werewolf—a presiding member of the Loco Lobos Pack. He was also a stable member of both the Supe Community and the city at large. A psychedelic redneck with a penchant for business, he ran his hotel to cater to Supes of all kinds.

He had, however, instituted a stronger screening process after Dredge—my sister’s horrific sire—had infiltrated the hotel, and we totally trashed a suite trying to stake him. After we’d dusted Dredge and done a number on Exo’s hotel, Exo had hired a seer to ferret out troublemakers. Now his hotel was always full with Supes who wanted an extra measure of protection while staying there.

The streets of the Belles-Faire District passed by in darkness. There was still quite a bit of undeveloped land out in this area, and some of the Fae were beginning to buy it up to keep it safe. Most of those living in the suburb didn’t realize it was happening, but the quiet coup was often discussed in our Supe Community meetings, where we planned out ways to smooth interactions between our people and the FBHs.

I glanced over at Vanzir, who was staring out the side window. “You okay? You seem uncommonly quiet tonight.” Usually, the demon had no problem voicing his opinion on anything from music to politics.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem it.”

He let out a snort. “And you would be one to talk?” Then, with a sigh of exasperation, he said, “Listen, I’m sorry for being dense at the party. I know you’re going through a hard time, and for what it’s worth, I think you’re handling this whole mess with Johnson really well.”

Blinking, I almost swerved. A compliment from slave boy? Almost unheard of. But I didn’t want to make a big deal about it because he sounded genuinely concerned, and catching Vanzir in a moment free from sarcasm was like catching Santa Claus on a diet.

“Thanks,” I said, slowly mulling over what else to say. “It’s been hard—we’ve had a rocky time from the start.”

“He’s not your type.”

I shot Vanzir a look out of the corner of my eye. “Why?”

“Even though he’s taken the Nectar of Life, he’s still not your type. He’ll come to resent you eventually. I’m not questioning whether he loves you,” he said, holding up his hand. “What I
am
questioning is the long-term viability of a relationship with someone not born into your world. I think you stepped outside the box too far. You’re simply not human enough for it to work with an FBH, long-lived or not.”

“Do you think Smoky will regret being with Camille? He’s dragon, and they’re as different from the Fae as we are from FBHs.” I wanted to hear his answer.

He frowned. “Probably not. They are soul bound, and that makes a huge difference. But you know—as well as I do—that a full-blooded human cannot bind souls with those from other worlds. They can only soul-bind to themselves. You and your sisters only have the ability because of your father’s bloodline.”

I pressed my lips together. The same thought had eaten at me since the beginning of my affair with Chase. I loved him in so many ways, but sleeping with Zachary had unleashed a need in myself to mate with someone who understood my predator nature.

I wasn’t just a woman who put on a catsuit once in awhile. I was part-Fae, part-human, part-feline, all Death Maiden. I was as much myself when I was a panther or tabby as when I walked on two legs.

As we pulled up in front of Exo Reed’s hotel right then, I silently leapt out of the car. Vanzir let the matter drop, and we raced forward. Camille and her crew joined us, and Menolly and Roz fell in stride.

Camille tapped me on the arm. She looked beat. “Kitten, I’m dead meat on the hoof, and I just can’t deal with keeping things straight. Take the lead tonight?”

I grinned at her. “You are anything but dead meat, but yeah, I don’t mind taking charge.” I pushed in front and led the way into the hotel.

Chase and a group of officers from the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigations unit were waiting just inside the door. I paused, waiting for him to notice us. As we stood there, loud crashing noises came from the stairwell and the floor above us. Crap, it sounded like a brigade on riot patrol.

Chase glanced over, saw us, and motioned us closer. As I stepped into the light, he blinked. “Your hair.” He stopped, then he saw my tattoos as I pulled off my jacket. “Your arms . . .” He shook his head, then said, “Time enough for that later. Thank God you’re finally here. We’ve got mayhem going on, and people are hurt.”

I glanced back at Camille and Menolly, who both straightened their shoulders. We were in for a fight, so it was time to pick up the energy. Camille accepted a candy bar from Morio, who handed me one, too. We scarfed down the sugar for an extra boost of energy.

“What have we got?” Trillian asked, fingering his short sword.

Chase frowned. “For the most part goblins. They’re tearing up the joint.” He motioned to Exo, who was standing by his side.

“About half an hour ago, bunch of goblins came bursting into the lobby and decided to make themselves at home,” Exo said. “I told security to keep an eye on them, a good thing. The brutes got drunk and tried to carry off a couple of the beta werewolves—and
not
the women.”

“They tried to carry off beta males? What the . . . ?” That was odd. Goblins usually went for women, whom they could sell on the slave market back in Otherworld.

“Yeah—go figure. My bouncers put a stop to it, and the brutes started tearing up the joint. A group of them headed upstairs, and the rest are in the lounge, tossing tables, breaking anything in sight, and drinking all my booze. My security guards can’t handle them. I’ve got one man down. I think he’s dead.”