“I can think of one option,” Camille said, frowning as she gently brushed Delilah’s bangs out of the way. “It wouldn’t be all that fun, but it will probably keep you safe for now.”
“What is it?” Delilah sat up. “I don’t want that thing in my head again. It feels like it’s raping my soul.” She burst into tears, and within seconds, a frightened, meowing golden tabby was shivering on the sofa in her place. I scooped her up and cuddled her as she snuggled close, hiding her head in the crook of my arm.
“Poor Kitten, you’ve had it rough tonight, haven’t you? And shifting that quickly isn’t going to help; I know it stings when you transform so fast.” As I murmured gently to her, she finally began to purr. I scratched her ears for a bit, and Camille hunted through the shed till she found some spare cat food, which Delilah scarfed down. After about ten minutes, I felt the familiar hum in her body that told me she was about to shift again.
As soon as she’d changed back, Delilah gave us all a contrite smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just under a lot of stress, and having a demon rooting around in my mind didn’t help.”
I rested a hand on her shoulder. I knew exactly how she felt, thanks to Dredge. Violations like that didn’t go away easily.
“What were you going to say?” Delilah asked Camille.
Camille shrugged. “I may be off base, but what about the warded room down at the Wayfarer? The one where we stashed Vanzir until we could perform the Ritual of Subjugation? Think for a moment. The room is barred to all astral, etheric, and demonic forces. If Vanzir couldn’t get out, then the Karsetii shouldn’t be able to get in.”
“You might have something there.” I’d forgotten about the panic room, as we’d taken to calling it.
Camille nodded, eager. “What do you say, Delilah? We could carry one of the sofas from the upper rooms down, make sure you have blankets, food, and some books. I know it’s not the most appealing option, but it might keep you safe,” she added.
Delilah let out a long sigh. She looked over at Vanzir. “On pain of the symbiont you wear around your neck, tell me this. Were you truly unable to break out or communicate with anybody in there?”
Vanzir’s gaze flickered slightly, and I wondered what he was thinking. But all he said was, “I didn’t really try, to be honest, but yes—the room muted my ability to sense anything outside of its walls. I doubt if the demons from the deep would be able to break through.” He gave her a concerned smile. “It’s creepy in there, though—I’ll say that much for it. Very quiet. Made me feel like I was cut off from the world.”
“I won’t be able to help you out much once I lock myself in there,” she said. “Laptops and cell phones won’t work through the magical static. And I have to be out by Tuesday night. Wednesday’s the full Moon, and if I’m locked up when she ripens, I’ll go crazy.”
I glanced at Camille. “That means we have to find out where this thing is from, why the hell it woke up after two thousand years, and then we have to kill it. All in just a couple of days. Do you think we can do it?”
Camille shrugged. “We’ve done the impossible before.”
“Let’s book. We’d better hurry before the creature comes back. Since it’s got a trace on Delilah, she seems to have become its primary target.”
Everybody moved then, even Yssak, who followed us back to the house.
Yssak looked cautiously around as he entered the kitchen.
“Never been Earthside, have you?” I asked, motioning to Iris. “Iris, please help Delilah gather up a backpack of clothes. Also some books, games, a blanket or two, pillow . . . let’s see . . . water bottles and snacks. Oh, add toilet paper and soap to that list. The panic room at the Wayfarer has a small bathroom attached, but I don’t think it’s stocked with any supplies.”
With a blink, Iris turned and sped out of the room, followed by Delilah. One thing I had to say about the sprite—she moved fast when need arose.
Yssak was staring at the refrigerator. “The box is humming.”
“Yeah, well, it does that. We’ll explain later. By the way, why did Father send you over here? We got so caught up with the demon that we forgot to ask.” I grabbed my keys off the pegboard next to the phone.
He snapped to attention. “Your father sent me with news. First: It’s believed that Lethesanar fled to the Southern Wastes, but no one knows for sure, so Lord Sephreh bids you be cautious. While it’s doubtful the deposed queen would come through the portals, one never knows.”
It was odd to hear our father called Lord. For so many years it had been Captain while he was in the Guard Des’Estar. Did this mean the three of us would be more acceptable to the nobility who flocked around the Court and Crown like vultures around a carcass?
“Good to know,” I said, frowning. “The Southern Wastes are the perfect place for someone like Lethesanar to run to. She can hide there and disappear into the wasteland of scum suckers.”
The vast desert, formed during an ancient war between the sorcerers’ guilds and the cities, led by one powerful necromancer in particular, was rife with rogue magic. It attracted vile creatures and mercenaries looking to escape into violent anonymity. “What else do you have for us?”
“I have news for Camille.”
Camille set down the bottle of water she was drinking from. “Is it from Trillian?” she asked, breathless. When Trillian had been commissioned to find our father, he was supposedly captured by a goblin brigade. Then we discovered the abduction was a ruse; Trillian was on a secret mission for Tanaquar.
Our father, who actually had been abducted by a group of skittish mountain Fae, escaped from the Goldensün. We’d expected Trillian to show up again once Father was safe, but he’d failed to surface. Now we were all worried. His soul statue was intact, but we hadn’t heard a word from him, even though we knew he’d last been spotted in Darkynwyrd not all that long ago.
“No, but it’s about him—an unofficial message.” He gave her a long look that said, Listen and don’t try to second-guess me.
“What is it?” Camille’s hand fluttered to her throat, and I moved toward her, hoping that it wasn’t bad news.
“Your father has sent me to instruct you that you are to journey to the Windwillow Valley shortly before the autumn equinox. Until then, forestall your worries.”
Bewildered, she cocked her head. “And where does he want me to go once I reach the valley?”
“Travel to Dahnsburg.” Yssak held up his hand before she could speak. “That’s all I can tell you.”
Camille sucked in a slow breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“There’s something more,” Yssak said, looking at me again, his lips set in a grim fashion.
A lump lurched into my throat from my stomach. More? I really didn’t want there to be more. More wasn’t always better.
“What’s going on?”
“This, I’m afraid, is bad news.” He didn’t look happy, but assistants—especially within the Court and Crown—were trained to be the bearer of news both good and bad, and so he straightened his shoulders and slicked back his hair.
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this. Your aunt Olanda was murdered by a sorcerer on a trip through Darkynwyrd. She was on her way to Y’Elestrial to see your father. Everyone was killed: your aunt, her attendants, and her guards. That’s my primary reason for being here. Your father sent me to escort your cousin Shamas home for the funeral rites. Olanda te Tanu’s husband and children must perform the Severing Ritual before the ceremony, which will take place on the dark Moon next.”
“Oh no,” Camille said, wincing. Aunt Olanda had been a sweet, if distant, woman. Father was closer to Aunt Rythwar, but Olanda had always been a warm presence in the background. We’d had little contact with her, but enough to know that she always tried to do the right thing.
“Do they know who did it?” I asked.
Yssak shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. Her husband has hired someone to investigate, but so far, there aren’t any leads.”
“Camille, both you and Delilah should go to her funeral,” I said. “Father will need our support. I’ll stay home with Maggie and keep things running here. We can plan the trip next week. Yssak, please, have a seat while we contact Shamas.”
“You’re right. We should go,” Camille murmured as she picked up the phone. “I’ll call Chase and ask him to send Shamas home.”
While she was on the phone, I motioned to Roz and Vanzir. “Vanzir, I want you to stay here. Guard Iris and Maggie while we’re out. If Smoky or Morio drop in while we’re gone, call us. Roz, come with us.”
Vanzir gave me a curt nod and immediately went to the back door and locked it. “Don’t forget to have Camille reset the wards before you leave,” he said. “And—”
“Damn,” Camille said, hanging up the phone.
“What’s wrong? Couldn’t you get hold of Chase?” Delilah asked.
“No, I just talked to him. He’s sleeping at the station tonight, and he’ll send Shamas right away. But that’s not the problem. There’s been another murder. An elf—female. Looks like she got hit just like the others. Chase had an interesting piece of information, though. Apparently the girl was found in the vicinity of Harold Young’s house. Chase recognized the address from when he was checking on Sabele for us. Just something to keep in mind.”
Interesting was right. What it meant, exactly, I didn’t know. “Camille, do you mind if we take your Lexus? It will fit all of us, and you can crash at the Wayfarer for a bit while I check on a few things. Meanwhile, Roz, if you’d load Delilah’s things into the car, I’d appreciate it.”
Roz slid past, brushing up against me as he did so. I was still so keyed up from the battle that I shuddered and leaned toward him, my nipples stiffening as he pressed against me.
“I noticed the spark between you and Vanzir out there on the astral,” he whispered. “Don’t think I didn’t see it. You’re better off with me, and you know it. You know what to expect from me.”
I could smell him. His blood was running hot, and for once, I bit back an automatic retort. He leaned down, slowly, and kissed the tip of my nose, laughed, then headed out the door. I didn’t say a word. Not a word.
CHAPTER 14
By the time we got to the Wayfarer, the place was almost empty. It was nearly closing time. I could tell that Camille and Delilah were winding down. Considering we’d been through two battles already this evening, I was amazed they were even still on their feet. We had a lot of stamina—our half-Fae heritage ensured that—but even we had our limits.
Luke arched his eyebrows as the four of us walked in and he let out a low huff.
“Finally decided to show up?” he asked, winking. We’d developed a casual but comfortable friendship over the past few months, and I trusted the bar in his hands, as long as Tavah was guarding the portal.
“We’re headed downstairs,” I said. “I’ll be back in a bit. If you close up before then, just lock the door on your way out.”
He nodded as we vanished through the arch leading to the stairwell. As we clattered down the stairs, I could hear Tavah talking to someone.
The safe room—or panic room, depending on how you looked at it—was in the basement along with the portal. We’d hacked into the magical programming of the portal to prevent Lethesanar from finding out we’d stayed Earthside.
With the bitch queen off in the Southern Wastes, we no longer needed to worry, so the directional magic had been retuned to its normal destination, and legitimate OW visitors were once again flowing through the portal on a regular basis. And the Faerie Watchers Club was back in action to greet them, sans Erin as president. Henry Jeffries, a regular customer and part-time employee at the Indigo Crescent, had taken over the helm of the group.
Tavah was waving good-bye to an elf who was stepping into the portal. As we watched, a brilliant light flashed, and the elf quickly vanished in a flurry of sparkling dust. Faerie dust. I snorted. Literally.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
Tavah nodded. She was a vampire, too. Full Fae and not at all picky about her meals, though I’d bound her to a promise not to attack any of our guests. “Yeah, nothing out of the ordinary. No trolls, no goblins. Ever since the portal was reprogrammed back to Y’Elestrial and Queen Tanaquar set up guardians on the other end, we haven’t had much trouble. A party of seven Svartans are scheduled to come through in about an hour. Thought you’d like to know.”
Camille perked up, and Tavah shook her head. “Sorry, Camille, no Trillian listed among them.”
“Figures,” Camille muttered.
“Be sure to log their intended itinerary and length of stay. There’s no telling how much that will help, but chances are they’re going to be charming the pants off anybody they meet, and probably the money out of their pockets.” I motioned to my sisters. “Come on, let’s get you situated.”
We headed down the dimly lit hallway to the safe room. The enclosure had been enchanted by Otherworld Intelligence Agency wizards when the Wayfarer was first retrofitted for OW use. From the most powerful sorcerers’ groups around—at least on the right side of the law—the wizards had embedded the magic directly into the molecular structure of the walls. They had altered the makeup of the wood and metal, had fortified it to withstand attack from both physical and magical means. The Wayfarer might burn to the ground or blow up, but the room would be left standing. And no one could teleport in or out by any method we’d run across.
