Witchling

Menolly snorted. "Good going, Johnson," she said as she approached the window. "Delilah, honey? I'm coming up. Don't be scared!" She slowly began to rise through the air as if she was standing on a pad of air. Delilah meowed but didn't try to escape as Menolly approached the top of the curtains. With a firm hand, she reached out and grasped Delilah by the pale blue collar that embodied Delilah's clothing. "Come on, you little twit," she said fondly.

Menolly held her tight until she hit the ground and then handed Delilah to me. As Delilah snuggled against my shoulder, I scratched behind her ears. "Poor baby, it's okay. It's okay," I said softly.

Chase cleared his throat, his eyes wide. "How long till she turns back to normal?"

"Once she calms down, she'll be okay," I said.

"Was she born that way?" he asked.

Menolly surprised me by fielding the question. "Delilah was born a werecat. Unlike others of her kind, she doesn't change into a big cat. Just our gorgeous little long-haired golden tabby." She laughed then, throaty and deep. With a glance at Chase, she added, "The children teased her about it when we were little, and sometimes they forced a change in order to 'play with the pretty kitty.' It got so bad our father and mother pulled her out of school."

Chase shook his head. "There's a lot I don't understand about the three of you yet."

"What exactly sets her off is hard to determine," I said. "I've seen her face down some of the nastiest criminals in OW and remain calm and in control, but let the three of us get in an argument, and she's a mass of fur and razor blades."

Delilah meowed in my ear. Loud. I turned to Chase and Menolly and, in a low voice said, "Okay, so the two of you need to tone down your spats because if you don't, I'll take matters into my own hands."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh, you and what army? What are you going to do? Take off your clothes and dance nekkid, maybe?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, and me with it, Johnson." I kept my voice even, but he knew I was pissed. "I may not be able to do much to Menolly, but you I can cast a spell on. Ever thought of what it would be like to be a toad? Or a mouse, maybe? Want to see what Delilah does to cute little mice?"

Menolly grinned, baring her fangs as Chase blanched. "She means it, Johnson. And considering the chance for backfire, I think I'd apologize."

"Why me? You're just as much to blame—"

"Oh cripes! Can't you two be in the same room together for five minutes without picking a fight?" Startled, Delilah tried to claw her way up my shoulder, resulting in a couple of deep scratches, but I stroked her neck, calming her down. "Can you quit bickering for one night? Please?" I stared pointedly at Chase.

He let out a long sigh. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll play nice."

Menolly shook her head. "As usual, Camille, you're the voice of reason." She graciously extended a hand to Chase. "I'll pull my fangs in." She leaned toward Delilah and added, "Delilah, honey, you don't have to worry, I'm not going to have a Chase cocktail for dinner."

Chase drummed his fingers on the table. "Perhaps it's none of my business, but if Delilah was born a werecat, were you born a vampire?" he asked softly. "Nobody ever filled me in on your backgrounds, other than the fact that you're half-human and sisters. Hell, until a few years ago, I didn't even know vampires really existed. Witches or werecats either," he added with a smile.

I glanced at Menolly. She shrugged and headed for the kitchen. "Tell him," she said on her way out.

Chase waited till she was out of the room. "Touchy subject?" he asked.

"You might say that. Nobody's born a vampire. You have to be made one, and almost anybody can be changed. Menolly was a top-notch acrobat; she could climb anything. Most of the time. Shortly after we joined the OIA, they assigned her to spy on the Elwing Blood Clan, a group of rogue vampires who refuse to play by Otherworld's rules. They were sheltering a greater vampire who was due to be deported to the Subterranean Realms. The Elwing Group has always been trouble; they give a bad name to all vampires."

Chase raised his eyebrows. "Aren't all vampires bad?"

"They have their place in the scheme of things. You'd be surprised how many were already here Earthside when we came over. But, as I said, the Elwing Blood Clan won't play by the rules. Menolly was collecting information on them when her ability to climb walls short-circuited—that half-human problem again. She slipped off the wall, and the Clan caught her. When they found out who she worked for, they didn't go easy on her."

"Bad, huh?"

"Bad doesn't even cover it. The techniques they use can shatter the psyche as well as the body. After torturing her, they turned her into a vampire."

I closed my eyes, remembering the morning she'd come stumbling home, body shattered, her soul no longer her own. She started toward me, then raced into her room and locked the door, screaming for me to get help. That was the last sound she made for weeks. It took the OIA months to restore her sanity.

"Oh Jesus, that's nasty."

"Yeah, it was. The scars they left on her body will be there forever. I'm hoping to help ease the scars in her heart."

"And OIA let her stay on?"

"It's a long story," I said, sighing. "Someday, I'll tell you the rest. Right now, I'm trying to help her adjust. To have fun even though she's… well… dead."

"Don't you mean undead?" Chase asked.

I grinned. "Definitions are a slippery slope."

After another awkward pause, Menolly returned from the kitchen. She paced the length of the dining room, her boots clipping a staccato beat against the hardwood. "Here's the deal. I know that I reported everything that seemed out of place. If there's an inside man, then he's damned good at hiding. I can smell undead like you can smell pussy—"

Chase blinked.

She snorted. "Oh, don't give me that innocent look. You've been sniffing after Camille's ass ever since we arrived. I don't really care what you're thinking, as long as you don't touch. She doesn't want you, and the sooner you accept that, the better. My point is, I can ferret out undead. I can also pick up on some demons, though I'm on a learning curve there."

She leaned over his shoulder and tickled his neck with her hair. "I recognize the undead because I am one of them."

As her hand landed on his shoulder, nails digging in ever so softly, Chase paled. "Yeah, so I understand."

Menolly blew on his ear, tickling it with her tongue before flashing him a dark smile. Chase managed to look both terrified and turned on at the same time.

"Good." She sauntered back to her chair. "What I'm trying to tell you is that I'm the only member of the ooo-spooky set at the Wayfarer. There aren't any other undead there. And if the killer is a demon—whether from the Subterranean Realms or somewhere else—it has to be one of the races I haven't learned how to read. Most of those are Greater Demonkin."

Another awkward pause, and Delilah's purr stopped. She twitched her nose, her whiskers brushing my hand, and her fur started to ripple. Quickly, before we reenacted a mishap I didn't care to repeat, I plopped her on the floor next to my chair. The air shimmered and Delilah stood there, blinking.

"Sorry," she said, stretching her neck. With a quick lick of her hand, she said, "Didn't mean to do that."

"Don't apologize," I said. "Menolly knows better than to scare you."

Menolly grinned and stared at the ceiling.

I tapped my goblet with a spoon. "Attention—now that the excitement is over, can we get back to business?" I looked up to find Chase staring at Delilah, his eyes dark and unreadable. Pointing toward his notebook, I said, "What else have you got for us?"

He flipped open the binder. "There's one other thing. The person I was talking to at the OIA left his station for a moment, and somebody took his place. Guy with jet-black skin and silver hair—dangerous-looking dude. He gave me a message directed at you specifically, Camille." Chase swallowed. "He said he'd twist my balls off if you didn't get it."

The look on his face was priceless, but I couldn't even dredge up a smile. My pulse started to race, and a flurry of images flickered through my mind, dark and passionate. Shit. I knew exactly who Chase was talking about.

"Trillian is working for the OIA? That isn't possible. They wouldn't hire him." I glanced over at Menolly and Delilah, both of whom were frowning.

Chase stared at me, a scowl on his face. "You know who this guy is?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "He said, and I quote, 'Rumor has it something big is going down in the lower depths. There's a new ruler, and he's far more ambitious than the Beasttägger was. Don't count on help from home.'"

The skin on my arms rippled. "The last I heard, the Beasttägger was in charge. Promotions down there come at the expense of a superior's life, so the Beasttägger probably whispered hello to the point of an assassin's knife. Did Trillian say anything else?" On one hand, I prayed he'd sent me a personal note. On the other, any step closer to that dark, murky pool from which I'd barely managed to extricate myself would be asking for trouble.

Leaning back in his chair, Chase stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. He said, 'Tell Camille that Shadow Wing's in charge now. And he's on the warpath.' That mean anything to you?"

Menolly sucked in a deep breath, and Delilah let out a little "Oh" of fear. I returned Chase's stare. "Shadow Wing? Are you sure?"

He nodded. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." He grimaced. "Strike that. You're probably best friends with one."

I sank back in my chair, all thoughts of Trillian slipping to the side. Shadow Wing's name was well known throughout Otherworld. A powerful demon overlord, he'd risen through the ranks in the lower depths with a ruthlessness that defied understanding. Nothing stood in his way. He went after what he wanted, and he never failed. His name had been feared in OW for hundreds of years, though from a distance.

According to everything I'd heard about him, Shadow Wing made it abundantly clear that he thought humankind should be razed to the ground. Father had told us that the OIA had been begging the Court and Crown to pay attention to the growing unrest for years, but the Queen was too caught up in her opium dreams to care. Now, with Shadow Wing in power, both Earth and Otherworld were at risk.

"I'm thinking OIA may not want to even consider this, but do you think there's a chance that Jocko's death might have something to do with Shadow Wing?" I glanced at my sisters, wincing.

"Oh crap," Menolly slumped back in her chair. "That's the last thing I needed to think about."

Delilah blinked. "Maybe we're overreacting? Maybe it's just a random strike by some idiot demon who got himself trapped Earthside?"

I stared at her. "Did you even hear the message Trillian sent?"

She shrugged. "It came from Trillian. What can I say?"

I let it drop. Neither one of my sisters liked my ex, but a voice inside whispered to me that we were standing at the tip of the iceberg, staring at an enemy far greater than anything the OIA had ever faced.

After escorting a subdued Chase out the door, we sat around the table, mulling over the situation. With Shadow Wing riding at the helm of the Subterranean Realms, our job had taken a turn for the dangerous. Not to mention that I had a personal stake in the matter. Trillian was back, and he had singled me out. How had he hooked up with the OIA? They didn't accept Svartans in their service, any more than my family had accepted him.

My stomach rumbled and, hungry, I shoved back my chair, went to the refrigerator, and pulled out a loaf of whole grain bread, a packet of sliced chicken breast, sliced Swiss cheese, and a bowl of tomatoes. Delilah perked up when I fixed a couple sandwiches and handed her one.

"So, we've got some decisions to make," I said, settling back into my chair. "I know that Jocko's murderer either was—or had close contact with—a demon. That rope is permeated with the stench."

Menolly's eyes narrowed. "The question is, does Shadow Wing have a hand in this, or is the demon a rogue? And are there any mortals involved? Humans, Sidhe, somebody discontent with the status quo?"

"Anybody new check in at the Wayfarer the past few nights, however unlikely a suspect? Maybe a shapeshifter?"

She frowned, tapping her taloned nails on the table. "A few, but they all cleared through as being from Otherworld. Of course, that doesn't mean that they're on the up and up. There are some shady characters back home."

I nodded. While the Subterranean Realms were home to the biggest, baddest beasties, OW had its share of malcontents, and not all of them fit the stereotype. "Did Jocko have any friends here?" I asked.

Menolly snorted. "He was popular with the women. He was hung like a horse and apparently FBH women loved him. I know for a fact that he spent a lot of time hanging out with one woman in particular. Her name's… give me a minute," she said, thinking. "Oh yes, Louise. Louise Jenkins."

"Do you know where she lives?" I asked.

"Not a clue." Menolly shook her head.

"Okay, here's the plan. Delilah, you're the detective. Find out whatever you can about this Jenkins woman. Where she lives, who she hangs out with, if she was seen with Jocko anytime in the past day or so. Anything that seems remotely important." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">