o f31e4a444fa175b2 (6 page)

Yeah, yeah. So I’d paid more attention to Scott and his family than I should have. Sue me.

Scott, direct as always, cut to the chase. “Why are you here, Marissa?”

The ice in his voice raised shivers along my spine, though I refused to let anyone else see that.

Marissa.
Once he’d always called me
baby,
or
Riss.

“I Want to hire your services.”

His jaw worked with the obvious effort not to curse. Obvious because I’d once known him better than any other man.

Elliana broke in before he could answer. “The whores work five blocks down, Marissa. Perhaps you can find your little lost friend there.”

I was halfway across the room before any of them had time to react. Scott and Sean broke into smooth, well-rehearsed motion just in time, Sean gathering Elliana and herding her back a half dozen paces while Scott grabbed my arm and jerked me across the room and into the back office. He slammed the door and pushed me against a wall. Hard.

Despite the anger in his eyes and grip, his sheer physical proximity made a shiver of desire run down my spine. “What the hell kind of game are you playing at, Riss?”

“I need help, Scott. And you’re the only one I can trust.”

His hands tightened slightly along my upper arms, falling away when Nemesis and Nike worked their way from waist to lower arms. They permitted him certain liberties they accepted from no other, but their tolerance extended only so far. I apologized mentally to them and shifted them back into tattoo form.

He stalked several short paces and settled his well-shaped rump against an ancient wood desk.
“You
need
my
help? Now isn’t that just rich. The high and mighty Fury crawling to the no-good, scum-of-the-Belly merc for help.”

I tightened my lips, biting back the instinctive insult bubbling just beneath the surface. There was one thing the day’s events had helped me see: Maybe the situation with Dre Carrington
wasn’t
as black and white as I’d painted it when we broke up. “I know I said some shitty things, Sco—”

His bark of laughter sounded far bitterer than I’d ever heard. I didn’t like hearing it from him. Not the larger-than-life, carefree lover I’d once cherished. “Had you been a member of my mother’s stuck-up clan, I’d have killed you for the insults you spat at me on my family’s own front steps. Give me one reason I should help you.”

“Because I’m in deep shit, Scott, and it has to do with Nessa.” The stark terror and longing in my voice hadn’t been intended, but they affected Scott more strongly than calculated emotion could have. Thank the gods for War-hound loyalty and protectiveness. Instinct kicked into overdrive even when they didn’t want it to.

“This is Fury business, then?”

I let out a deep breath. If he was willing to discuss the situation, then he would help me.

“Yes.
I need backup in a bad way, Scott. This goes high up the mortal chain of command in the PD.”

The beginnings of interest lit in his eyes. He’d always been fascinated by his father’s people. “The PD, huh? Still working for them?” As if he didn’t know.

“I did until they suspended me a few hours ago.”

Smugness flicked through his expression, though I couldn’t really blame him. After all, I’d wished to see him fat and miserable.

“What’d you do
this
time?”

“Proved that Nessa’s corpse wasn’t, in fact, Nessa’s corpse.”

He arched both brows in an expression I’d tried but could never duplicate. “Okay. You have my attention now. Explain.”

I did so quickly, starting with the predawn call from Dispatch and ending with the assassin’s nosedive to escape capture. That interested Scott more than anything else.

“Huh. A mortal willing to kill himself rather than risk interrogation. Don’t see that every day.”

“Yeah. Comes from that whole fear-of-death thing.”

He grinned at the sarcasm in my voice, and for a moment I could pretend the past two years had never happened. But then he got back to business.

“You’ll pay double the usual consulting fee.”

I bristled. “This is official Fury business!”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re paying double. Hazard pay. Last time we accepted a Fury commission, we nearly lost two of our best mercs. So double or nothing.”

My breath whooshed out again, and I wondered which of the region’s Furies had hired his family’s services without giving me a heads up. A smart one, obviously. I would have bitten her head off otherwise.

“Fine. If this helps track down a Fury’s killer, the Elders won’t quibble about the price.”

His lips settled into a smirk, but he simply nodded.

“I have a condition of my own. I want you, Scott, and only you.” His fingers grew white as they pressed into the desk beneath him, so I clarified. “Not your bitchy cousin, or your cute but inexperienced brother, or the guy I don’t recognize?’

“Elliana’s husband’ he supplied. “Patrick MacAllister.”

Damn. The girl’d worked fast in the months since her fiancé dumped her.

“Whatever. I’m planning to go in fast and hard on this one, and I need someone I’ve worked with before. Someone who won’t slow me down?’

Pleasure at my compliment battled with his reluctance to be alone with me any more than necessary.

“You’d be safer with more eyes watching for trouble.”

I wiggled my arms, flashing my tats. “Have two extra pairs right here. Besides, I meant it. Fast and furious on this one Scott Operative word
being furious.”

He finally nodded, pushing away from the desk and moving around to the chair on the opposite side.

He sat down and tapped at the ultramodern computer facing him..

“Somebody upgraded.” My eyes widened now that they’d been drawn to the piece of technology. “I thought your father
hated
those things.”

Humor glinted in his eyes. “He does. Which is one reason I let Mac talk me into buying it. Besides, Da’s usually busy. .

His voice trailed away, and I forced back a smartass comment. We both knew just what his father was busy doing.

“What are you looking for, anyway?”

He continued tapping away at the keyboard. “Checking for any hits on you.”

My mouth worked silently for seconds. “Hits? You think they’d hire arcanes once mortals failed?”

“I think it’s a safe enough assumption, and may give us a place to track down some answers~”

“Hmm. I just assumed anyone nuts enough to take a face-plant from ten stories up worked for a group just as fanatical.”

“You mean one of those ‘earth is for mortals’ types?”

I nodded.

“Could be, I guess. But even the most fanatical of those groups will slum it up when it comes to taking out someone they see as particularly dangerous.” His fingers grew still above the keys and he let out a whistle. “Shit, Riss. You’ve really done it this time?’

My palms grew sweaty and I sucked in a huge breath. “Bad?”

His eyes were concerned when he glanced at me. Further proof that he cared more than his outward show of anger would suggest. “Worse than bad. Harpies.”

Shock had my mouth dropping open. “Are you shitting me?”

He shot me one of his
Don’t be stupid
looks. “One of the hottest new arcane web forums seems innocent enough at first glance, unless you know what to look for.” He tapped a line Of text on the monitor. “And this username is a codeword used by a freelance assassin group.”

“Let me guess. One staffed by Harpies.” Great, just my luck to come across the one group of mortals crazy enough to hop into bed with the craziest monsters in all the arcane realms.

“Give the girl a cigar.”

I made a face. “No thanks.” Cigars were an absolutely nasty habit as far as I was concerned, and one of the things about him that had always driven me insane.

Scott shoved back his chair and stood. “We’re going to need more than just the two of us, Riss.” This time his voice brooked no argument.

“Fine, then. But not your brother.” I couldn’t bear the thought of dragging someone so young and innocent into the shit storm I’d stirred up. “Who else is available?” On the plus side, I was safe from the ice queen. No

way in hell
she’d
gone merc.

The smirk spreading over his face was my first warning. “Funny you should ask. The only others available right now are my bitchy cousin and her husband.”

Oh hell. Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.

‘EVERYONE IN PLACE?’ SCOTT’S VOICE Tickled
my ear, sounding tinny in the earpiece he’d foisted on me earlier. He sat, safe and sound with the others, in a van a block or two away from the branch of the city morgue that handled arcane stiffs; I, on the other hand, just used every bit of magical camouflage I could dredge up to sneak in behind several men delivering a new arrival to the city morgue.

After some discussion at Shadowhounds head quarters, I’d decided that what I really needed was another look at that corpse, and I knew Scott and his crew could help me get some face time with her. It was risky, though. Considering the magical booby traps I’d also had to avoid or disarm, it was a miracle I’d made it this far.

“Roger that.” Sarcasm tinged my tone, but I dialed it

back a notch. “We clear?”

“Aye, lassie.” A voice straight from the shores of Scotland raised shivers along my spine with its smooth-as-molasses vibe. Patrick “Mac” MacAllister, new husband of the ice queen. Elliana was a lucky woman. The bitch.

“Great. Then open sesame.”

Mac worked his computer voodoo, and the heavy door separating my quarry from me swung open. A room crafted from cold metal and equally cold air spread out before me. I tiptoed forward with breath held tensely. My body relaxed when no alarms sounded. Now it was time to work my own brand of voodoo.

My steps fell kitten-soft across the antiseptic white-tiled floor, zeroing in on the steel-coated door marked
Turner, Vanessa.
That had me rolling my eyes. Properly, the label should have read
Doe, Juno,
but whoever was behind this cover-up had obviously gone into overdrive. The door handle felt even cooler than the air when I cranked it open and tugged. Metal squeaked, alarmingly loud in the dimness.

“Quiet’ Scott’s voice warned. “There’s a lab tech two rooms over.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, trying to ease the tray open a few more inches without waking the dead. Ha. The body had been draped in white cloth inscribed with archaic runes. Runes meant to prevent the dead from doing just that. Waking. Arcane corpses had a nasty habit of rising from the dead, and one of the compromises negotiated into the Accord had been teaching humans how to safeguard against Ghouls. I peeled back the cloth, fingers clenching when Nessa’s likeness stared up at me.

“Stop daydreaming, Fury. We don’t have all night.”

I didn’t reply to Elliana’s venom. Reaching into the messenger bag on my hip, I drew out four brightly colored candles, made of rare wax blessed by Egyptian priestesses and supplied for the spell by Scott’s mother. After placing them at each corner of the cooler tray, I summoned a tendril of fire and the wicks burst into flame. I draped a rainbow-striped scrap of fabric across her chest and then called to the Power beneath me.

Magic responded, bubbling up from the ground and pooling into mini reservoirs above the candles, each feeding into the magical nexus hanging above the body’s chest. I tapped into the energy, pushing it
down
into the flesh, and bones of the freeze-dried corpse.

The corpse’s eyes snapped open, and its mouth let out a silent scream. And then the exact thing I’d been hoping for happened. Its spirit shucked off its not-so-mortal body, sat straight up, and stared around in confusion. Just like I’d expected, the spirit that had inhabited the corpse most certainly did
not
resemble Nessa.

I frowned, trying to figure out exactly which arcane creature it
did
resemble. Gorgeous, silvery-white skin, flowing turquoise hair, tilted, metallic blue eyes, and oversized, slanted ears. Something about its ethereal beauty and Technicolor hair tugged at my memory. An unearthly voice began speaking in a fluid language I didn’t understand. Feminine eyes turned to regard me unblinkingly. And that’s when it hit me.

“Oh holy hell,” I breathed. “She’s Sidhe.”

And that opened up a whole can of worms on its own, seeing as how the Sidhe were freaking extinct.

Elliana sounded even more disgruntled when she bit out, “What the hell does ‘She’s
she’
mean?”

“Not s-h-e. S-i-d-h-e. One of the Shining Folk:” As most mortals called them, elves, or faeries. Bearing about as much resemblance to Santa’s helpers or Tinkerbell as the Elders bore to’ fairy godmothers.

“Did you hit your head on the way down, Fury?”

The woman whose body bore the likeness of my dearest friend held a hand out toward me, cutting off my comeback before I could make it. This time, she spoke in perfect English. “Help me. Oh, please, help us all.”

Shivers danced along my skin at the eerie beauty of her voice, not to mention the strong desire to do whatever she wanted me to. The fact that she could affect me so strongly, dead as she was,
should
have disturbed me greatly. But perhaps even more alarmingly, it didn’t. I dredged up the willpower to shift more fully. Nemesis and Nike hissed into action, winding their way along my arms and grounding me in a way I could never ground myself. They were none too happy to see the spirit hovering alongside me.

She regarded us solemnly, metallic eyes seeming just a shade too large for her face. It should have detracted from her beauty, but it didn’t. “Please, Fury, you are sworn to avenge
all
creatures harmed by magical means, are you not?”

Against my better judgment, I nodded. “That I am, but were you not held captive by mortals?” In my job as Chief Magical Investigator, I solved any murder cases involving immortal victims or criminals. But as a Fury, I was only sworn to investigate and avenge murders that were brought about by magical means.

Her lips curved ever so slightly. “Clever you are, lass. Aye, mortals it was who captured me. Mortals it is who hold my brethren still. But magic it was that slew me.”