Witchling

Page 8

A guardian, or an unwitting accomplice to fate? "Is he human?"
"Yes and no, but that's all I'm going to tell you. And now, the bill for my services."
I winced. She had every right to demand payment. I just hoped it wouldn't be something I needed in order to live. "What do you want?"
She gave me a lazy grin. "I have yet to collect the finger bone of a demon."
Oh yeah, that sounded doable. I coughed. "I don't know any demons. And I sincerely doubt that they'd give up a finger bone for my sake."
"A free prediction, my dear. Over the coming years, you will know far more demons than you ever hope to. If you survive the coming onslaught, you'll have plenty to choose from. Bring me your favorite," she said. "And if you don't, then one of your fingers will do just fine."
Before I had time to sputter, I found myself standing back in the center clearing of the grove, alone. I whirled around, looking for Grandmother Coyote, but she'd disappeared, and I couldn't pick out which tree was hers.
For a moment, I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing, but when I looked down at my feet, I saw four objects: the three bones gleaming in the moonlight and the book. I scooped them up and, feeling the need to be out of the woods as quickly as possible, ran through the trees, glancing at the moon over my shoulder. The Huntress was racing the night winds, the Hunt only a few nights away. I couldn't afford to get swept up in the primal chase with this mess looming over our heads, but when the Moon Mother called, I answered.
At my car, I took one quick look back at the forest. For a moment, a hundred red eyes peered out of the gloom, staring in my direction. Needing no further hint, I slid into the driver's seat and pulled back onto the road. As I headed for home, I wondered just where in the world I was supposed to find a demon willing to part with his index finger. Because I sure as hell wasn't ready to give up one of mine.
The night was waning by the time I slammed the front door behind me. I slipped into the living room, startling Delilah. Menolly sat by her side, apparently back from hunting. A glance at the TV made me flinch.
"Blind Date? Honey, you've got to develop some viewing taste. Maybe we should make you watch PBS?"
Delilah snorted as she fished another corn chip out of the bag of Fritos. "You and what army? Mr. Big Bad Demon?"
With a laugh, Menolly burped. She flipped off the TV, looking sated. Obviously, she'd fed well. Delilah beamed, waving a packet of papers.
"I found Louise Jenkins! You want to pay her a visit tomorrow?"
"Hold on a few. Let me get out of these clothes first," I said, dashing up the stairs. I changed into a long satin nightgown and slipped on a matching robe, again blessing Earthside clothing designers. Victoria's Secret was my secret playground. My thoughts flickered briefly to Trillian. He loved silk and satin.
Sighing, I brushed out my hair and slid on a pair of fuzzy slippers. By the time I returned to the living room, the knots of tension from my encounter with Grandmother Coyote were beginning to ease, but my shoulders still hurt like hell. I plopped myself down on the floor in front of Menolly.
"Neck rub?" I asked, leaning back. She wrinkled her nose and smiled. I noticed her fangs were retracted, but there was a smudge of blood on her lower lip that she'd missed. I silently handed her a tissue and tapped my chin. She wiped her mouth. "I take it you had a good night?"
"Very good," she said, rubbing the kinks out of my shoulders. Her fingers were so strong that it occurred to me she might look into becoming a masseuse. Cancel that. The image of her massaging a stranger's neck brought up other thoughts—not so good ones. I backtracked from the idea. Menolly had self-control, but even the best of us could experience a weak moment.
"I found out more than I expected to, and the world now possesses one less perv," she said. "He was about to slice up a hooker who works the back alley around Jocko's. I wiped her memory after I took care of her would-be suitor. In fact, I wiped her memory and told her to go find a good job as a waitress. When she comes to, maybe she'll get herself off the streets." Menolly had a penchant for tracking down the whack-jobs of the world. Since we'd been here, she'd saved the police a great deal of expense and trouble, even if they didn't know it.
I grasped Menolly's hand and gave it a quick kiss. "Good work," I said. "So what did you find out?"
Her eyes glistened, flaring crimson before fading back to the icy gray they'd turned when she'd died. "I talked to one of the men who sleeps in a box next to the restaurant—not Chase's informant, but a buddy who was drunk when Chase interviewed him. He told me what he forgot to tell Chase. Seems three figures came racing out of the back door in the wee hours of the morning, dragging Jocko by a rope. They left him in the alley before fleeing. My man was sleeping it off behind a pile of cardboard boxes. But it's bad. Big, bad news."
I held my breath. "As in?" .
"As in a trio of demons. From the descriptions, I figured out what we're looking at. Starting with a Psycho Babbler."
"Oh great," I moaned. Psycho Babblers were reptilian, able to shift into the most gorgeous of mortals. They were similar to incubi, but they never bothered to have sex with their victims. They just charmed them into a violent and bloody death. And they were stupid. Real stupid.
"It gets even better," she said with a grim smile. "The second one's a harpy, and that's just nasty. But the third… we're in worse trouble than we thought." Her nostrils flared, and her fangs extended just a smidgen. Something had my sister excited. Delilah put down her book, looking grave.
My spirits sank. Grandmother Coyote said Shadow Wing had sent scouts through the portals, and it seemed she'd been telling the truth. Maybe I had more chance to find that demon finger than I thought.
"Okay, I'll bite. Who's our third man?"
"Remember when Father told us about a demon he'd fought on one of his scouting missions? The one who killed Uncle Therasin? He showed us the demon's image in the Crystal Mirror."
"Oh hell," I said, leaning back. "Bad Ass Luke."
Menolly nodded vigorously, her beads clicking loudly. "That's right. Ladies, Bad Ass Luke is in town."
As I set the book and bones on the coffee table, Menolly's eyes widened. Delilah leaned in for a look.
"Okay, let me add fuel to the fire," I said. "Grandmother Coyote told me that Shadow Wing is sending scouts through the portals—hence our lovely trio of miscreants. Trillian was right—Shadow Wing's on the move. Not only that, but I found out what kind of demon he actually is. Ladies, we now have a Soul Eater at the helm of the Subterranean Realms."
It got very quiet for a moment, then all havoc broke loose as the front door burst open. In a blur of movement, Delilah was standing, holding a gun in one hand, a long knife in the other. Menolly hissed and soared up to the ceiling, her arms spread to dive in attack. Running on instinct, I called out to the Moon Mother, and energy raced into my hands, crackling as I armed myself with the silver lightning.
"Show yourself or you're a dead man," I yelled, hoping that my shout would make up for my lack of confidence.
"Gladly." The figure stepped out from the swirl of rippling energy.
I lowered my hands. Oh hell. I did not need this—not now. Not ever. My heart started to pound, and my knees turned to rubber as Delilah lowered her weapons and Menolly sputtered something I couldn't catch.
"Please tell me I'm imagining things," I said, fighting my instinct to race over and dive into the Svartan's arms. Trillian bowed, his lips full and pouting. I wanted to bite into them right there but managed to restrain myself. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Who told you that you were welcome in our house?"
"Your father asked me to check up on you and deliver a message for him. He's decided that you need somebody outside the agency to play delivery boy and bodyguard. There's a bad wind on the rise, my sweet, and you and your sisters are right in its path."
As he stepped fully into the light, I could see that Trillian hadn't changed since I'd last seen him. He was as gorgeous as ever. Svartans—the dark-souled cousins of the Sidhe world—were creatures of beauty. With skin the color of obsidian and hair that shone somewhere between silver and blue, they were luminous, radiating sex and power and chaos. And I knew all too well how deep this particular Svartan's beauty ran. I'd seen him naked too many times. Or too few, depending on how I looked at it. Whatever the case, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, Trillian was a magnificent sight.
I struggled to gather my wits as I stared into my nightmare's eyes. He grinned, then leisurely reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against him. I should have fought. Shoulda-woulda-coulda. His other hand gripped my hair, tilting my head back as his tongue parted my lips, and I fell hopelessly in lust with him again as he pulled me in for the deepest, darkest kiss I'd had in a long, long time.
* * *
CHAPTER 5
The kiss went on and on. He ground his hips harder against mine, and I could feel an edge of desire rise that had been missing from my life for so long. Two seconds away from ripping off my nightgown, I stumbled and pushed against his chest. He loosened his grasp but didn't let go, gazing down into my face with eyes that knew me inside out.
"You shouldn't have left me," Trillian said, his voice rough.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "You know I didn't have any choice. You're Svartan." And that said it all.
Trillian, however, wasn't ready to let the matter drop. "I wasn't the one who made the first move. You chose to bind yourself to me. You're mine, no matter what you think or say or do."
I bit my lip, drawing blood. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against mine, sucking gently. After another moment, he stepped back, letting me go, and I wavered. As I fought for control, Delilah grimly sheathed her knife and holstered her gun. Menolly drifted to the floor, never taking her eyes off of Trillian. Neither she nor Delilah had approved of my affair with him, but they wouldn't interfere unless I asked for help. At least not overtly.
I wiped my mouth, unable to tear my gaze away. What I'd suspected was true. Trillian still held me in thrall, a disconcerting discovery to say the least. I wasn't even sure I'd ever liked him, but I'd fallen hard. He was one of those dark golden boys that shimmer with the promise of heady nights and summer wine.
"Camille? Camille?" Delilah's voice brought me back to the present. "If Father asked Trillian to play messenger, then something must be drastically wrong at home."
Trillian took another step in my direction, and I stumbled back, almost tripping over the coffee table in my haste to avoid his hands. Damn it. The last thing I wanted was for him to realize he still had control over me, but I had a feeling that was one secret I wasn't going to be able to keep. He read my expression and laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.
"So glad to find that you haven't forgotten me," he said. "At least I'm not alone in my obsession."
I jerked my head up. "What are you talking about?"
He licked his lips, and I had to force myself to keep from flying at him again. "You're the only one who willingly walked away from me."
So that's what had him in a lather—I'd left before he'd had a chance to get bored with me. It had taken every ounce of self-discipline I had to make the break, and I wasn't sure I could do it again. When he suddenly disappeared, I'd thought he went home to the Subterranean Realms.
"What's Father's message, and why does he think we need a bodyguard?" If I kept the conversation on neutral footing, maybe I'd be safe.
Trillian straightened his shoulders. "Business first, then. As it should be in these… uncertain times."
Menolly chose this moment to break in. "So tell us already, Svartan."
He gave her a long, speculative look. "Menolly, you're looking almost alive. Met any eligible bats lately?"
She hissed at him, and he grinned.
Delilah broke in. "Stop it, both of you! We don't have time for this, and I don't need to change right now. First Chase, and now you, Trillian. Menolly, why do you hate everybody who's interested in Camille?"
Trillian gave me a sidelong glance but said nothing.
Menolly sighed. "You don't like this black heart either, so don't play all self-righteous with me," she said.
Delilah started to shimmer, but I caught her wrist. "Don't you dare! We need you to hold tight, hon." I glanced at Menolly, who relented.
"Kitten, calm down," she said. "I'm not mad at you, okay?"
With a huff, Delilah flounced to the sofa. Menolly sat beside her, stroking her hand. I motioned to Trillian.
"You might as well sit down too," I said, keeping out of his reach. "Why don't you first explain why our father asked you to play messenger boy. I know exactly what he thinks of you."
Trillian slid into one of the overstuffed armchairs and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles as he leaned back. "The answer's simple enough. Your father thought my arrival would go unannounced. I don't arouse suspicion, because I can't possibly be a member of the OIA." He grew serious and leaned forward. "Listen, girls, there's trouble in Y'Elestrial. Serious trouble. Your father wants you to know that the OIA may not be able to offer much support in the near future, even though they won't tell you so. He heard Johnson's report, as well as the official response."