TO KILL A WARLOCK

Dulcie O’Neil #1

by

H.P. Mallory

Other Series by H.P. Mallory

Paranormal Women’s Fiction Series:

Haven Hollow

Midlife Spirits

Midlife Mermaid

Paranormal Shifter Series:

Arctic Wolves

Paranormal Romance Series:

Underworld

Lily Harper

Dulcie O’Neil

Lucy Westenra

Paranormal Adventure Series:

Dungeon Raider

Chasing Demons

Detective SciFi Romance Series:

The Alaskan Detective

Academy Romance Series:

Ever Dark Academy

Reverse Harem Series: (Writing as Plum Pascal)

Happily Never After

My Five Kings

To Kill a Warlock

Copyright © 2018 by H.P Mallory

All rights reserved.

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements:

To my fabulous mother, thank you for all your help. This book wouldn’t be anywhere near as concise without your input.

To my editor, Teri, thank you.

To my son, Finn, for all your coos and giggles every morning.

To Kill A Warlock

ONE

There was no way in hell I was looking in the mirror.

I knew it was bad when I glanced down. My stomach, if that’s what you wanted to call it, was five times its usual size and exploded around me in a mass of jelly-like fat. To make matters worse, it was the color of overcooked peas—that certain jaundiced yellow.

“Wow, Dulce, you look like crap,” Sam said.

I tried to give her my best “don’t piss me off” look, but I wasn’t sure my face complied because I had no clue what my face looked like. If it was anything like my stomach, it had to be canned-pea green and covered with raised bumps. The bumps in question weren’t small like what you’d see on a toad—more like the size of dinner plates. Inside each bump, my skin was a darker green. And the texture … it was like running your finger across the tops of your teeth—jagged with valleys and mountains.

“Can you fix it?” I asked, my voice coming out monster-deep. I shouldn’t have been surprised—I was a good seven feet tall now. And with the substantial body mass, my voice could only be deep.

“Yeah, I think I can.” Sam’s voice didn’t waver which was a good sign.

I turned to avoid the sun’s rays as they broke through the window, the sunlight not feeling too great against my boils.

I glanced at Sam’s perfect sitting room, complete with a sofa, love seat and two armchairs all in a soothing beige, the de facto color for inoffensive furniture. Better Homes and Gardens sat unattended on Sam’s coffee table—opened at an article about how beautiful drought resistant plants can be.

“You have nine eyes,” Sam said.

At least they focused as one. I couldn’t imagine having them all space cadetting out. Talk about a headache.

Turning my attention from her happy sitting room, I forced my nine eyes on her, hoping the extra seven would be all the more penetrating. “Can you focus please?” I snapped.

Sam held her hands up. “Okay, okay. Sheesh, I guess getting changed into a gigantic booger put you into a crappy mood.”

“Gee, you think?” My legs ached with the weight of my body. I had no idea if I had two legs or more or maybe a stump—my stomach covered them completely. I groaned and leaned against the wall, waiting for Sam to put on her glasses and figure out how to reverse the spell.

Sam was a witch and a pretty damned good one at that. I’d give her twenty minutes—then I’d be back to my old self. “Was it Fabian who boogered you?” she asked.

The mention of the little bastard set my anger ablaze. I had to count to five before the rage simmered out of me like a water balloon with a leak. I peeled myself off the wall and noticed a long spindle of green slime still stuck to the plaster; it reached out as if afraid to part with me.

“Ew!” Sam said, taking a step back from me. “You are so cleaning that wall.”

“Fine. Just get me back to normal. I’m going to murder Fabian when I see him again.”

Fabian was a warlock, a master of witchcraft. The little cretin hadn’t taken it well when I’d come to his dark arts store to observe his latest truckload delivery. I knew the little rat was importing illegal potions (love potions, revenge potions, lust potions … the list went on) and it was my job to stop it. I’m a Regulator, someone who monitors the creatures of the Netherworld to ensure they’re not breaking any rules. Think law enforcement. And Fabian clearly was breaking some rule. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have turned me into a walking phlegm pile.

Sam turned and faced a sheet of chocolate chip cookie mounds. “Hold on a second, I gotta put these in the oven.”

She sashayed to the kitchen and I couldn’t help but think what an odd picture we made: Sam, looking like the quintessential housewife with her apron, paisley dress and Stepford wife smile, and me, looking like an alien there to abduct her.

She slid the cookies in, shut the oven door and offered me a cheery grin. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, let me just whip something together.”

Kneeling down, she opened a cupboard door beneath the kitchen island and grabbed two clay bowls, three glass jars and a metal whisk. One jar was filled with a pink powder, the next with a liquid that looked like molasses, and the third with a sugary-type powder.

“Sam, I don’t have time to watch you make more cookies.”

“Stop being so cranky! I’m stirring a potion to figure out how the heck I’m going to help you. I have no idea what spell that little creep put on you.”

I frowned, or thought I did.

Sam opened a jar and took a pinch of the pink powder between her fingers. She dropped it in the bowl and whisked. Then she spooned one tablespoon of the molasses-looking stuff into the bowl and whisked again. Dumping half the white powder in with the rest, she paused and then dumped in the remainder.

Then she studied me, biting her lip. It was a look I knew too well—one that wouldn’t lead to anything good.

“What?” I demanded.

“I need some part of your body. But it doesn’t look like you have any hair. Hmm, do you have fingernails?”

I went to move my arm and four came up. But even with four arms, I didn’t have a single fingernail—just webbed hands that looked like duck feet. I bet I was a good swimmer.

“Sorry, no fingernails.”

“Well, this might hurt then.”

She turned around and pulled a butcher knife from the knife block before approaching me like a stealthy cat. Even with my enormous body, I was up and out of her way instantly.

“Hold on a second! Keep that thing away from me!”

“I need something from your body to make the potion work right. I won’t take much, just a tiny piece of flesh.”

I felt like adding “and not a drop of blood,” but was too pre-occupied with protecting myself. I glanced at the wall and eyed the snotty globule, still attached to the plaster as if it had a right to be there. “What about that stuff?”

Sam grimaced but stopped advancing. “I’m not touching that.”

“Okay, fine. How about some spit then?”

“Yeah, that might do.”

My entire body breathed a sigh of relief which, given the size of me, was a pretty big breath. She put the knife back, and I made my way over to her slowly—not convinced she wasn’t going to Sweeney Todd on me again.

She held out the bowl. “Spit.”

I wasn’t sure if my body was capable of spitting, but I leaned over and gave it a shot. Something slid up my throat, and I watched a blob of yellow land in her bowl.

It was moving. Gross.

It continued to vacillate as it interacted with the mixture, sprawling this way and that like it was having a seizure.

“Yuck,” Sam said, holding the bowl as far away from her as possible. She returned it to the counter as the timer went off. Facing the oven, she grabbed a mitt that said “Kiss me, I’m Wiccan,” pulled open the oven door and grabbed hold of the cookie sheet, placing them on the counter.

My stomach growled, sounding like an angry wolf, and unable to stop myself, I lumbered toward the cookies. I grabbed the sheet, not feeling the heat of the tin on my webbed hand. Sam watched me, her mouth hanging open as I lifted the sheet of cookies and emptied every last one into my mouth, swallowing them whole.

Sam’s brows furrowed with anger, giving her normally angelic face a little attitude. “I was saving those to bring to work on Monday, thank you very much!”

Sam didn’t wear angry well. She was too pretty—dark brown shoulder length hair, perfect skin, perfect teeth, and big brown eyes.

“Come on, Sam,” I pleaded, my mouth brimming with gooey chocolate. “You know I didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t even like sweets.”

Something slimy and pink escaped my mouth and ran itself over my lips. It took me a second to realize it was my tongue. Rather than curling back into my mouth, it hesitated on my lip as I focused on a stray chocolate chip lounging against the counter. Instantly, my tongue lurched out and grabbed hold of the chip, recoiling into my mouth like a spent cobra.

Sam quirked a less-than-amused brow and ran her palms down her paisley apron, as though composing herself. I have to count to ten, twenty sometimes. Otherwise, my temper is an ugly son of a bitch.

“Besides, none of the guys at work deserve them anyway.” I knew because I worked with Sam.

She appeared to be in the process of forgiving me, a slight smile playing with the ends of her lips. I turned to the potion sitting in the bowl. The yellow ball of spit was still shivering. I nearly gagged when Sam stabbed it with the whisk and continued stirring.

I peered over her shoulder and watched the potion change colors—going from a pale brown to red then deepening into flame orange. “What’s it doing?”

Sam nodded as if she were watching a movie, knew the ending, and was just dying to tell someone what happens. “Ah, of course, I should’ve known. The little devil put a Hemmen on you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a short-term shape-shifting charm. You’ll be back to normal in about five hours or so.”

“Five hours? Look at me! Can’t you get rid of it sooner?”

Sam shook her head. “Would take lots of herbs and potions I don’t have. I’d probably have to get them at Fabian’s.” She laughed. “How ironic is that? Just hang tight. It’ll go away, I promise.”

It figures the little bastard would’ve put a short-term spell on me. Currently, there weren’t any laws against turning someone into a hideous creature if it would wear off after a day. And even if he had turned me into this creature long term, he’d probably only get a slap on the wrists. The Netherworld wasn’t exactly good with doling out punishments.

I was working on making it better.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

She nodded. “One hundred percent. Let’s just watch a couple movies to keep your mind off it.”

She hurried to her entertainment center and scanned through the numerous titles, using her index finger to guide her. “Dirty Dancing? Bridget Jones?”

“The first or second Bridget?”

“I have both,” she said with a triumphant smile.

“I like the first one better.”

With a nod of agreement, Sam pulled the DVD out and gingerly placed it into the player.

I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself. I couldn’t fit on her couch, and with my slime ball still suspended on the wall, sitting was out.

Sam pointed a finger in my general direction. “How did Fabian catch you unaware enough to change you into … that?”

I sighed—which came out as a grunt.

“Well?” she asked while skipping into the kitchen to microwave a packet of popcorn.

I couldn’t quite meet her eyes and, instead, focused on drawing slimy lines on her counter top with one of my eight index fingers.

This was the part of the story I was least excited about. Fabian never should’ve caught me with my guard down. I’m a fairy. We’re renowned for being extremely quick, and we’ve got more magic in our little finger … well, you get it.

“My back was to him,” I mumbled. “I know, I know … super dumb.”

Sam’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “That doesn’t sound like you at all, Dulce. Why was your back to him?”

If I wasn’t excited about that last part of the story, this part excited me even less. “There was someone in his shop—a guy I’ve never seen before.”

Sam laughed and quirked a knowing brow. “So let me make sure I’ve got this right.”

She plopped her hands on her hips and paused for a good three seconds. Maybe she was getting me back for the cookies. “You, one of the strongest fairies around, turned your back on a known dark arts practitioner because he had a hot guy in his store?”

“No, it wasn’t that at all. I’d never seen him before, and I couldn’t figure out what he was.”

As a fairy, I have the innate ability to decipher a creature as soon as I see one. I can tell a warlock from a vampire from a gorgon in seconds. I don’t get paid the big bucks for nothing.

Sam’s face took on a definite look of surprise, her eyes wide, her lips twitching. “You couldn’t tell what he was? Wow, that’s a first.”

I nodded my bulbous head. “Exactly. And if he’s here permanently, he never checked in with me or Headquarters.”

Any new creature who hoped to settle in Splendor, California, needed to contact Headquarters, otherwise known as the A.N.C (Association for Netherworld Creatures). And more pointedly, they had to register with me. This new stranger had done neither. Maybe he’d gotten lost when coming over. It wasn’t rare for a creature to come through the passage from the Netherworld to Earth and somehow get lost along the way. You’ll find the directionally challenged everywhere.

“Maybe you should talk to Bram,” Sam said. “He always seems to know what’s going on.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Bram was a vampire (I know, how cliché …) who ran a nightclub called No Regrets. No Regrets was in the middle of the city and was the biggest hangout for creatures of the Netherworld. If something was going down, Bram was always among the first to know.

“Yeah, not a bad idea,” I said.

First things first, I’d pay a visit to Fabian and let him know how much I didn’t appreciate his little prank. Then, if he couldn’t give me any info on his strange visitor, I’d try Bram. My third choice was Dagan, a demon who ran an S&M club called Payne that wasn’t far from No Regrets. Dagan was always my last resort—I hated going to Payne. I’d seen things there that had scarred me for life.

So it looked like my plans for the weekend were shot. Not like I had much planned—just editing chapters of my romance novel, Captain Slade’s Bounty. I’d been looking forward to a quiet weekend, so I could focus on Captain Slade and his ladylove, Clementine. Now, it looked like I’d be working the streets of Splendor instead.

Big goddammit.

***

Six hours later, and with Bridget Jones one and two, Dirty Dancing and four bowls of popcorn under my belt, I was home and back to myself. I felt like hell considering I’d eaten more in one evening than I usually ate in a day.

I headed through my sparse living room and straight to my bathroom. I threw off the clothes Sam had lent me (the mass I’d been turned into had shredded my outfit) and turned on the shower full force. I was back to myself, but still disgusting—covered in a layer of what looked like clear snot, like I’d just dropped out of God’s nose.

I tested the water, waiting for it to warm. Then I turned to face myself in the mirror. I’m not a vain person but I was very happy to see my small and slender self reflected back at me. I pulled my mane of honey-gold hair from behind my back and inspected it. If I was narcissistic about anything, it was my hair. It was long—right down to my lower back and it looked like it had fared well in the metamorphosis. Except for the slime.

I keep my hair long because I’m not thrilled with my ears. As a fairy, my ears come to points at the tops. Think Spock. Other than that, I look like a human. And no, I don’t have wings.

I checked the water again; it was warm enough. I lived in a pretty crappy apartment and the pipes in the wall screamed every time I turned the hot water on—they’d just pound if I wanted cold. I know I mentioned earlier that I make a good living, and I do. The crap apartment is due to the fact that I’m saving all my money to retire from the A.N.C. Then I can focus on my writing full time.

It might sound strange that one as magical as I would need to work nine-to-five weekdays and some weekends, but there it is. There are strict laws that disallow those of us who can, to create money out of thin air. I guess the powers that be thought about it and realized all creatures who can create something from nothing—fairies, witches and warlocks, just to name a few—certainly would be at the top of the food chain … something bad for the less fortunate creatures and humans, too.

That, and money created from magic turns to dust after a few days anyway.

So I have to work. I’ve accepted it.

I stepped under the less-than-strong flow of water, which was more like a little boy peeing on my head, and grabbed my gardenia-scented soap, lathering my entire body. I repeated the process four more times before I could actually say I felt any semblance of clean.

After toweling myself off, I plodded into the living room with a towel wrapped around my head and body. Then I noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine beckoning to me. I had three new messages.

I hit play. Bram’s alto voice, the pitch reminiscent of his English roots, filled my living room.

“Ah, I’ve missed you, Sweet. Come by the club. I have information for you.”

The arrogant bastard—he never bothered saying, “It’s Bram.” As to the information he had … that could be meaningless. Bram had been trying to get into my pants since I became a Regulator—about two years ago. And just because he had my home phone number didn’t mean he’d succeeded—I used to be listed in the phone book.

I deleted the message. I’d have to pay him a visit tomorrow. The next message was from my dry cleaners—my clothes were ready to be picked up. The third message was from my boss.

“Dulce, it’s Quillan, Sam told me what Fabian did to you. Just calling to make sure you’re okay. Give me a call when you get in.”

I hit delete. Quillan was a good boss; he was the big wig of Headquarters, and an elf.

Elves are nothing like you’re imagining them, although they are magical. Whereas I have the innate ability to create something from nothing (all it takes is a little fairy dust), Quillan is magical in his own way. He can cast spells, control his own aging and he’s got the strength of a giant. Fairies and elves are like distant cousins—sprung from the same magical family tree but separated by lots of branches.

Quillan is tallish—maybe five-ten or so, slim, and has a certain regality to him. He’s got a head of curly blond hair that would make Cupid envious, bronze skin, and eyes the color of amber. And he’s also the muse for the hero in my romance novel. But he doesn’t know that.

I wasn’t in the mood to call Quillan back. I’d add him to my long list of visits for tomorrow. Even though it was Saturday, it looked like I’d be working.

Sometimes working law enforcement for the Netherworld is a real bitch.

TWO

A.N.C. Headquarters is located on Main Street in Splendor. It’s a two-story, white concrete building with dark triangular windows—like it shared the same architect as the Amityville house. It was busy when I arrived at nine a.m. Saturday morning. A couple of werewolves were already in custody, a fairy in one holding cell, and a leprechaun in the other.

“Hey, Baby,” the fairy called out.

“Hello, Zara. Nice outfit,” I grumbled.

She twirled around as if she were a ballerina. Her hot pink halter dress inched up her thighs until I worried she might flash everyone. With her fishnets, she looked every inch the hooker—which was fitting, considering she was one. She smiled as I walked by, her red lipstick screaming out, as if enraged it was paired with orange hair and a pink dress.

I nodded at Elsie, our receptionist, who was busy entering the weres’ info.

“Hey, Dulcie,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the crying of the old woman next to her.

“My poor baby! They ate him!” the haggard woman sobbed. Amid a bout of breathlessness, she pointed at the two weres. “Tore him to bits, so there was nothing left but fur! Disgusting, you’re disgusting!”

I cringed.

Elsie just bobbed her head while she tried to console the old woman, even as the old woman berated her. Ever since creatures of the Netherworld had decided to go public, over fifty years ago, we were still subject to fear and ignorance from humans. Most humans had learned to accept us, but plenty still believed we should all be dead.

I hightailed it down the hall and poked my head into Quillan’s office, only to find it empty. With a shrug, I headed further down the hall to my desk.

Every city with a large enough Netherworld population had its own A.N.C. precinct. Our A.N.C office wasn’t a huge unit—Quillan kept about fifteen employees on staff—but it was big enough for Splendor and the three other cities within our jurisdiction—Sanctity, Estuary and Haven. The crux of the Netherworld activity—what activity there was—always centered in Splendor, though.

When I reached my desk, Quillan was sitting on the edge of it, deep in conversation with Trey, our only other Regulator. Quillan flashed me a disarming grin of pearly whites, as I threw my backpack onto my seat.

“Dulcie O’Neil, you decided to grace us with your presence. You okay?” he asked.

Trey laughed, his rumbling chuckles echoing through an immense stomach. “Heard you got turned into somethin’ pretty nasty, O’Neil?” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, I did Trey, and when I looked in the mirror, there you were.”

Quillan grinned and put a concerned hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t call me back last night.”

I turned my attention from the heat of his hand to my computer and booted it up. “I was really tired. I got in the shower and went to bed.”

“Are you going to see Fabian today?” Quillan asked.

“That’s my plan.” At the mention of Fabian, I remembered the stranger who’d been in his store. “Before the little bastard turned me into that green thing, I noticed a man in his store. I couldn’t tell what he was.”

“Really?” Quillan asked.

“Yeah. And he hadn’t registered with me. Did anyone register with you yesterday?”

Quillan pulled out his Blackberry and flipped through the bios of recent creatures to our territory. Every bio included the creature’s photo, what part of the Netherworld he or she was from, his or her race, reasons for being in our district, and contact names and addresses.

“I thought maybe he’d gotten lost on his way over,” I said.

Quillan nodded to Trey. “You see anyone suspicious around?”

Trey managed to shake not only his head but also his three double chins. He was one chubby guy, well, a hobgoblin actually. The only reason he was a Regulator was he had a great knack for seeing the future and the past, something that made him … useful, though I hated to admit it.

“Nothin’ out of the ordinary,” he said, the light glinting off his perpetually wet upper lip.

“I’m planning to talk to Fabian about it today,” I said. “After I let him know exactly how much I didn’t appreciate his stunt yesterday.”

Quillan smiled. “I’m coming with you. I don’t want him trying anything again.”

I had to swallow the annoyance that careened through me like a fat man on a bicycle. “I can handle this on my own.”

“Not up for argument,” Quillan said.

“Fine,” I grumbled, secretly making note of his tight-lipped expression—it would serve me well in my characterization of Captain Slade, the hero of my romance novel.

Quillan quirked a brow but didn’t say anything more. Trey returned to his desk which, unfortunately, was right across from mine. Quillan’s office had a great view of Splendor Park which was now in bloom with orange poppies.

My desk had a view of Trey.

“I’ll just get my jacket,” Trey said.

“What is this—a field trip?” I asked.

Quillan met my gaze and shook his head. I frowned and turned my computer off, wondering why I’d booted it up in the first place. Not finding an immediate answer, I stood and started down the hall, ahead of Quillan.

“And what’s Trey doing here anyway?” I asked. “Doesn’t he have something better to do on a Saturday?”

Quillan shrugged. “Apparently not.”

As we hurried down the hall, me hoping we’d lose Trey somewhere along the way, Zara wrapped her hands around the prison bars, running them up and down, trying to be suggestive.

“Hi, Honey,” she said, looking at him like he was crack and she, Whitney Houston.

Quillan didn’t meet her eye. “Hi, Zara.”

She smiled and made me want to hit her. Her attention fell to me, and she smiled even wider.

“When are you two going to give me a visit? You’re both so easy on the eyes. We could have us a good time, you know? A little fairy on fairy action …”

“Not anytime soon,” I said between stiff lips.

“Who’s driving?” Trey asked with a toothy grin, coming up behind us.

“My car is right out front,” I said in a less than thrilled voice.

“Shotgun,” Trey said.

I shook my head. “You ride with me, you’re in the back.”

“Jesus, O’Neil, love you too.”

Quillan opened the front door for me. “Enough, both of you.”

Once outside, I unlocked my yellow Jeep Wrangler and threw open the driver-side door. I jumped in while Quillan folded the passenger seat forward, allowing Trey to catapult into my small back seat.

It took us a few minutes to reach Fabian’s store—it was just a couple miles east of Headquarters. There was plenty of parking, which was almost never the case, so I sailed into the spot right out front. It always makes my day when I get a good parking spot.

I jumped down from the Wrangler and pulled the seat forward. A look of surprise crossed Trey’s wide face, which lit up in a smirk. “Aw, you do love me.”

I shook my head. “Just get out, please.”

Quillan was already at the front door of Fabian’s shop. “Looks like he doesn’t open until eleven.”

Eleven was over an hour away. I strode past Quillan and headed into the alley that bordered Fabian’s. “I know the back way,” I said with a self-satisfied grin.

I reached for the back door and froze. It was already ajar.

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, or Splendor, as the case may be.

“What’s the hold up?” Trey asked, his putrid breath rolling down my neck.

I cringed and glared up at him, wishing I could’ve arrested him for halitosis.

“It’s open. Fabian always locks his door.”

I pulled my Op 6 pistol from my shoulder holster. Even though it was a small gun, the length just spanning the width of my palm and fingers, it was lethal. The dragon blood bullets would cause instant death to any creature unfortunate enough to get in the way of one.

I nudged open the door to Fabian’s store, my pistol ready should the need arise. If the little jerk was brewing an illegal potion, I needed to catch him in the act. And if he was in the middle of an illegal sale to a human, the bust would be a gold star on my upcoming review. Most Netherworld creatures could handle the toxins involved in drinking potions, but the same couldn’t be said for humans. With their weak temperaments, just a swallow could do permanent damage.

I turned to Quillan and Trey and brought my index finger to my mouth in the universal sign of shut the F up. They both nodded and were good about not making any noise behind me. That is, until Trey kicked something metal and sounded as inconspicuous as a garbage truck in a narrow alley.

“So sorry,” he muttered.

‘Shhh!” I turned to glare at him then held my gun close to my face as I continued down the long hallway. I couldn’t see a damned thing.

My fairy eyesight finally kicked in and I was able to make out the corners of the wall and the mouth of the doorway leading into Fabian’s store. When I came to the front of the store, it looked empty. I walked headlong into a piece of mermaid netting hanging from a ledge and pushed the sticky stuff out of my face, hoping it might catch Trey.

Talk about claustrophobia—Fabian’s store held entirely too much junk. Boxes piled against the walls so the actual space within the room was reduced to maybe twelve feet by twelve feet. Barely enough room to breathe. I continued forward, wondering where the hell the little bastard could be. I couldn’t hear any voices. Maybe they’d heard Trey trip and had already hidden whatever illegal deeds they’d been doing.

Damn Trey.

My foot hit something and made a thunk sound. I dropped to my knees and clenched my hand into a fist. I shook it until a mound of fairy dust grew in my palm. Reholstering my pistol, I opened my palm and snapped with the fingers of my other hand. A flame bubbled up between my thumb and middle finger. I blew on the flame and the fairy dust caught fire, lighting the room in an eerie glow.

I glanced down and couldn’t stifle my gasp. I’d nearly tripped on a head, Fabian’s head. It had been ripped from his body and not in one neat stroke like you might find with a long blade. This looked more like the work of an animal—the flesh at the nape of what was once Fabian’s neck was torn and uneven. I lifted my palm of light and spotted a mangled arm with tendons and muscle looped back over it, looking like a red lace doily. A few fingers were scattered in a far corner.

“Hot Hades,” Quillan whispered as he came up behind me. “Ugh, what’s that smell?”

“That would be Fabian … or what’s left of him,” I answered.

Trey stumbled into the room, sounding like a herd of buffalo, and stepped on one of Fabian’s dismembered fingers. It made a crunch like biting into a carrot.

“What the hell,” he started.

I blew the flame in my palm, and like a thousand fireflies, the lit embers floated on my breath, illuminating the area just around Trey’s foot.

“Holy dragon’s balls!” he gasped. “What the heck did that?”

Even though I couldn’t say I was fond of Fabian and even less so since he’d turned me into a booger, still, this was no way for someone to go.

“No idea. Looks like it could be the work of a were,” I said.

Quillan whipped out his cell phone and speed-dialed Headquarters. Well, now I knew what the rest of my Saturday would entail. I’d been hoping to get home and clean the apartment before heading down to Bram and Dagan’s. And I’d planned on penning a bit more of Captain Slade’s Bounty. Guess I’d had a change of plans.

“I need the coroner to Fabian’s store. Promptly,” Quillan said, then hung up and dropped his phone back into his pocket, facing me. “The intruder might still be here.”

He pulled his Op 7 gun from his belt; something most similar to a 9mm Glock. It was also loaded with dragon blood bullets.

I pulled my smaller version from my shoulder holster and followed Quillan’s lead as he headed back down the hallway. Fabian’s place only consisted of the front room, a hallway and a restroom right off the hall. Quillan paused outside the restroom and signaled me to open the door. I grabbed hold of the doorknob and shook my fist until I had a handful of fairy dust.

Quillan mouthed, “One, two, three.”

On the count of three, I yanked the door open and threw the dust into the room while Quillan aimed his gun into the darkness. The fairy dust acted like mini drops of acid once on the person in question, and it would only attach itself to you if you were, in fact, guilty. Sort of like a better version of a lie-detector.

I dropped my gun but didn’t re-holster it.

“Clear,” I said, my heart still racing.

“Hey, can you get some light in here?” Trey asked from the front of the shop.

Frowning, I turned to the problem of lighting the entire space. Setting a flame to some fairy dust wasn’t enough to light the shop, so I’d have to do more. Remembering the mermaid netting hanging in the rafters, I shook my palm until the dust appeared and blew it toward the rafters. Then I focused on the netting and watched as it unraveled. Using just my vision, I pulled on each end, stretching the netting until it spanned the entire width of the ceiling. I shook my palm until another mound of dust appeared. Then I aimed it at the netting, lit a flame between the fingers of my other hand again, and blew the embers toward the mermaid netting. It immediately caught and burned a crisscross design just above our heads. It looked like a checkerboard aflame, kind of pretty.

Well, the netting might have been pretty, but the rest of the situation wasn’t. In the light, Fabian was even more hideous. His head was definitely dismembered but half his two-foot spine still ran the length from the base of his skull to where his ribs would’ve been. He reminded me of a prop someone might use to decorate a haunted house. His tongue hung out of his mouth and rested against the floor, looking like uncooked tuna. He’d never been a good looking guy when alive—about four feet tall, largish nose, wide brow and badgerish eyes—but now, yuck.

“There’s no blood,” Quillan said as he inspected the corpse.

I glanced at the unfortunate Fabian. There was no blood. Hmm, definitely strange. A gruesome attack like this would warrant blood all over the place.

“No blood—looks like the work of a vampire,” I said.

Quillan shook his head. “Vampires leave their corpses dry. This is … a hell of a lot messier.”

Trey laughed. “So Dulce, looks like you might’ve been the last one to see Fabes, here, alive.”

I reholstered my gun. “Don’t go there, Trey.”

He shrugged. “The motive is there. You seemed pretty pissed off that he turned you into that green thing.” He paused. “That’s all I’m saying.”

My breath caught, anger constricting my lungs. Trey and I were going to have it out—I’d known that since he’d started working with us over a year ago. Maybe now was as good a time as ever.

“Right, like I could tear a warlock apart.”

“You could be in cahoots with someone else.”

“You slimy little ball of gremlin …”

Trey’s smile broadened. “Come to think of it, that creature you got turned into had to be pretty strong.”

“Enough,” Quillan interrupted. “Dulcie, I’m going to need to take your statement. Strictly for the record.”

I swallowed the humiliation that crept up my throat. “You’re serious?”

Quillan nodded. “Maybe you were the last person to see him alive.”

I shook my head against the injustice of the whole damned thing. “The killer was the last person to see him alive and besides, I wasn’t the only person in the store. That stranger was there, too.”

“That’s right,” Trey said, trying to subdue a laugh. “Our mysterious stranger. That’s one rock solid alibi, Dulce.”

I took a step toward him. “Do you have anything else to say?”

Quillan grabbed my arm. “I said … enough. Now Dulce … let’s go back to Headquarters. Trey can stay here until the crime scene team arrives.”

Without saying a word, I spun on my heels and stomped down the hall, Quillan behind me. Shaking my fist until a mound of dust emerged, I blew in the direction of the burning netting. It immediately went out, leaving the shop in total darkness.

“Thanks, O’Neil,” Trey said. “Real professional.”

“Fire hazard, Trey,” I answered.

“Quillan,” Trey called. “How am I supposed to—?”

“Figure it out,” Quillan snapped.

I pushed open the door, and the sunlight acted like a blowtorch to my retinas.

“Back to the office then, is it? Or do you trust me enough to drive there?”

I knew it was standard A.N.C protocol to take my statement, but I wanted to make it tough on Quillan since he hadn’t told Trey he was full of it for thinking I could do that to Fabian.

I threw open the door to the Wrangler and didn’t wait for Quillan to buckle himself in before peeling out of the parking spot.

“I don’t think you did it, you know that, right?” Quillan finally asked.

“Yeah, thanks for saying as much to Trey.” I shook my head, irritation bleeding through me, and sighed. “Look, I know it’s standard procedure, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He nodded. “How about I give you Monday off? You’ve spent plenty of your weekends in the office. Maybe you need a day off.”

I snickered. “Aren’t you afraid I’d ditch town and head for Mexico?”

“You’re not going to let go of this, are you?” he asked with a grin.

I shook my head. “The eight ball says no.”

We said nothing for the rest of the drive and even as we walked back into Headquarters. Quillan continued playing mute as he escorted me into the interrogation room.

The interrogation room, for Hades’s sake.

I threw my keys onto the table, unholstered my gun and set it beside my keys. Then I took my seat with as much disdain as I could muster.

Quillan didn’t sit but leaned his head out the door. “Lottie, I need Saturn please.”

Saturn was a logging system that took statements in real time and then logged them into whatever case file they belonged to. It was basically a glorified computer that had been bewitched by Sam, but it didn’t look like a computer—it looked like a scroll with a feather pen.

Lottie flew into the room, carrying Saturn with her as her little wings beat madly to keep airborne. She was small, maybe the size of my hand and Saturn was about double her size. Pixies have incredible strength though—think ants—so it wasn’t too much of a struggle for her to carry the scroll.

Lottie was dressed in a flowery yellow skirt with a matching blouse, her platinum hair pulled into a severe bun like she thought she was a librarian or something. She smirked at Quillan but regarded me with disinterest. Stupid pixie had never liked me—she’d always been jealous of my close relationship with Quillan. Well, I’m sure she was getting miles out of this one.

She unwound the scroll. As she unrolled it, the feather pen flew out like a dog ready to retrieve a stick. If the damn thing had a tail, it would’ve been wagging. Then the pen poised itself on the scroll, waiting for direction.

Lottie faced me with a frown. “Dulcie is being interrogated today, is she?”

I narrowed my eyes and turned to Quillan who just smiled. “Not interrogated, Lottie, we just need her statement. So yes, you can enter Dulcie’s name into the system.”

Lottie tsked at me, and I wished I had a fly swatter.

She glanced at the scroll again. “Name: Dulcie O’Neil.” Her eyes sought Quillan. “What case is it?”

“Murder of Fabian Nesbeth, the dark arts warlock.”

She nodded and faced the scroll. The pen was already poised and raring to go.

“Murder case of Fabian Nesbeth, the warlock,” Lottie finished.

The pen scribbled on the scroll, the writing looked like calligraphy in gold paint. As soon as it entered my name, a red case number bled through the scroll in the upper right corner. I was case number 2,456. That might sound like we had a lot of cases, but Headquarters had had Saturn for over five years.

Lottie turned to us again. “Okay, Dulcie, you can start explaining how you killed Fabian now.”

“Don’t screw with me, mosquito, or I’ll smash you,” I spat.

“Thanks, Lottie,” Quillan said. “I can take it from here.”

She flew from the room in a huff as I turned to the scroll which was apparently recording my little outburst.

Quillan shut the door with a weary sigh. “Watch yourself, Dulce. You know this recording will be sent back to the Netherworld so you’d better be on best behavior.”

I frowned. “Or else what?”

“Or else you could be going back to the Netherworld. Understand?”

“Crystal clear,” I snapped.

A small, sympathetic smile played on his lips. “Okay, Dulce. Tell me about everything that happened yesterday, starting when you woke up.”

THREE

“I woke up yesterday morning,” I started.

“What time?” Quillan interrupted.

I shifted in my chair and resisted the urge to sigh. I should’ve known better—I’d have to give minute details. Hades-be-damned, I so didn’t have the patience for this.

“In the late morning, maybe ten a.m.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

I glanced at Saturn. The quill pen was doing a good job of writing our every word. Time to trip the thing.

“Ten a.m.,” I started, my voice a whisper. The quill paused and cocked its feather, as if trying to make out what I was saying.

“Dulcie, don’t screw around,” Quillan interrupted with an impatient sigh.

I frowned and figured it was fun while it lasted. The pen tapped itself against the scroll. The thing had no sense of humor.

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “Anyway, I woke up at ten and ate some cereal. Before you ask, it was frosted flakes.”

Quillan just shook his head.

“Then I took a shower and tidied up the apartment. I’d planned a visit to Fabian’s dark arts store because word on the street was he’d be receiving a delivery soon.”

“How did you know it was arriving yesterday?” Quillan interrupted.

“Well, I didn’t know for sure it was going to come yesterday. Trey had been getting visions of a truck delivery to Fabian’s sometime last week, so I made sure I patrolled pretty frequently.”

“But Trey didn’t get any inkling that Fabian would be murdered?” Quillan leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Holy Hades, he was one sexy bastard.

I shrugged. “If Trey did, he didn’t share that with me.” I took a breath. “So when I went to talk to Fabian about his delivery, he looked nervous. He was helping a stranger who I’d never seen before, which threw me off. Otherwise, I would’ve been prepared for the Hemmen spell.”

“The stranger,” Quillan started. “Can you describe him?”

“Tall, maybe three inches taller than you.”

Quillan faced the airborne pen. “I stand five feet eleven inches making this stranger six feet two inches.” He faced me again. “What else, Dulce?”

I frowned. Quillan was really five-ten, but if he wanted that little inch, he could have it. “He had dark hair and blue eyes.”

“How dark was his hair?”

“Black.”

“What type of creature was he?”

I shook my head. “That’s the kicker. I couldn’t tell.”

“Let the record note this stranger didn’t register with Headquarters,” Quillan added.

Every time he spoke, he faced Saturn as if he were addressing a crowd full of voters who might put him into office.

“Once he bespelled you, then what happened?” he asked.

“Fabian must’ve known I was paying attention to the stranger because that’s when he put the Hemmen on me. I left the store immediately because I started to feel pretty sick. It took me a few minutes to realize it was the spell taking shape. I ran all the way to Sam’s house, and then the spell took over and turned me into that blob.”

Quillan faced the pen again. “For the record, ‘Sam’ is Samantha White, witch. Employee of Splendor, A.N.C. Headquarters.”

“34B bust size,” I added.

Quillan just smiled. “How far does Sam live from Fabian’s?”

“Half a mile.”

“Were you able to see what Fabian had in the truck delivery?” He paused. “Could the stranger have been the delivery driver?”

I shook my head. “No, he wasn’t dressed in uniform. And no, I didn’t get to see what Fabian had in the delivery. He bespelled me before I got the chance.”

Quillan nodded and clapped his hands together before leaning forward. “Okay, Dulce, that’s all I needed. You’re free to go.”

“That’s it?”

He threw me a smile. “I believe you’re innocent, Dulce. Just have to follow procedure.”

I stood up as he opened the door and poked his head out, calling for Lottie to take care of Saturn. When he returned his gaze to me, there was something in his eyes … concern maybe?

“I know I don’t need to tell you this,” he started with a pause. “Just be careful on this case, okay?”

I nodded and strode out the door, smiling to myself as I thought maybe my day wasn’t going to be screwed up after all.

***

Three hours later, I sat at my computer, typing out the last scene of my romance novel, Captain Slade’s Bounty. The book was about a pirate captain, Slade Montgomery, and a stowaway named Clementine. Over the course of two months at sea, Clementine and the captain had sex nine times, and I was ending the book with their tenth.

But I was having trouble seeing the scene in my head—typical writer’s block. I tapped my fingers against the particleboard of my Ikea desk and watched the cursor blink, taunting me with its restlessness. I just couldn’t really get into writing about Slade’s engorged manhood as it penetrated Clementine in her naughtiest of places.

Instead, my mind refused to relinquish images of Fabian’s severed head. With a frustrated sigh, I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up an image of Quillan wearing only an eye patch. Even though it usually got my writing juices flowing, it did nothing for me now.

Well, when you can’t write, you can edit. I clicked on the search and replace option and began replacing Quillan’s name with Captain Slade’s. It was lots easier to imagine Quillan as my pirate hero if I wrote using his name. Go figure.

The phone rang and I bolted for it.

“Hi, Sam,” I said, after catching her name on the caller ID.

“Hi, Dulce. Quillan told me about Fabian. That’s crazy.”

I plunked down into my sofa and played with my dry cuticles. “Yeah, it was pretty awful. It looked like he’d been ripped apart, but there was no blood.”

Sam gasped. “So you think it was vampires?”

At the mention of vampires, I pulled at one dry cuticle too hard, and it began to bleed, the color of liquid gold. “Too soon to tell.”

“So what are you doing now?”

I eyed the open document page on my computer screen and noted the cursor still blinking like it was pissed off that I was on the phone. Pretty soon the screen saver would kill it with a calming picture of fish in a tank.

“Well, I was trying to work on my book, but I have writer’s block.”

“Oh.” She paused. “You’ve been writing a lot. Don’t you think maybe you should get out and …”

“Sam, we’ve been through this,” I started, knowing where the conversation was headed. I hadn’t dated anyone in a year, not since my last boyfriend had dumped me after a five-year relationship.

“I’m just not ready.”

Sam sighed. “I know, Dulce, it’s just been a long time since you even went out on a date.”

“Sam …”

“I’m just saying I think you have trust issues.”

I knew I had trust issues but I really didn’t blame myself considering I’d trusted someone for five years only to find out he’d been banging some chick for the last three years of our relationship.

“Anyway,” Sam exhaled. “Want to catch a movie and dinner?”

“Can’t. I have to go talk to Bram and Dagan about Fabian and that stranger. I want to see if they might have some news about it. You can come along if you want.”

Sam’s silence was telling. She’d had a fling with Bram for about a month. Only it turned out, he’d been going out with her to get closer to me. Or, so she said.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I offered, knowing it’s never fun to see an ex.

“I’m totally over Bram. I’ll go. We should make a night of it since I can’t remember the last time we went clubbing together.”

It had been a while. I wasn’t super crazy about clubbing, but since I’d be going to No Regrets anyway, might as well enjoy myself. And Bram was always good about offering us free drinks.

“Okay, why don’t I pick you up at ten?” I asked.

Now, if I could just get over my writer’s block.

***

It was nine thirty. I eyed my reflection in the mirror and gave my black miniskirt and red halter top a satisfied smile. Thank God for push up bras—my 32Cs looked more like Ds. Nothing wrong with a little false bravado. I sprayed some Juicy Couture perfume on my neck and wrists and slipped into four-inch black heels. Grabbing my black leather jacket, purse and keys, I locked the door behind me and headed to the Wrangler.

I didn’t live in the best part of Splendor. My suburb, Ocacia, was eclectic—some wealthy people trying to turn it into yuppie central, like they’d done with neighboring towns. Then there were the lower income families, the elderly and the single, twenty-somethings like me. But I was as safe as I would be anywhere else. Sam had put a protection spell on my entire apartment building which prohibited anyone who meant me any sort of harm from even stepping foot on our yard.

It even worked on Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Sam lives in the suburb just next to Ocacia—Cumquat. Her neighborhood is nicer than mine—the yuppies got to it first.

When I turned onto her street, I pulled out my cell phone and gave her a ring, not wanting to waste time parking and walking up to the door. Hey, it wasn’t like I was her date or something. The phone rang twice before she picked up.

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” I said.

She hung up, and I pulled in front of her white house. The garden’s the best part of Sam’s place. She’s an avid gardener and has every sort of flower blooming out front—azaleas, roses, snapdragons and honeysuckle just to name a few. I’ve had potted plants over the years, but I don’t have much of a green thumb. Kind of ironic considering I’m a fairy, a child of nature, but there you have it. It’d be more apropos to call me a child of concrete and asphalt.

Sam came out wearing her black pants and a blue tube top. She locked her door and jogged down her long entryway, not an easy feat given her high heels. I never understood why tall women wore heels. When you’re five-one like me, you need all the help you can get.

I whistled. “Look at you.”

She threw open the door and climbed in, giving me the once over as I pulled into the street. “Look at yourself,” she said and turned my CD player on. The Chemical Brothers came pounding out in an array of techno beats as Sam settled into her seat.

“What’s this?” she asked, leaning down between her feet and grasping a brochure I hadn’t wanted her to see.

Heat shot to my face. “Oh, it’s … it’s nothing. Just some junk mail.”

“If you feel self conscious about your ears,” she read as I cringed, “call Dr. Goodman for a free consultation to learn how ear augmentation can work for you.” She tapped the brochure against her hand. “Dulcie, tell me you aren’t thinking about getting your ears done? Come on, that’s so not you.”

There was no point in lying to her. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

“But that’s what makes you a fairy, Dulce.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Sam frowned. “Does this have anything to do with Jack?”

Jack was my ex boyfriend of five years—the jerk who’d cheated on me. He’d always made fun of my ears, calling me Tinker Bell.

“No, it has nothing to do with Jack.”

“Okay, but isn’t it enough that you have beautiful hair and gorgeous green eyes? And you have the best nose in three counties.”

I shook my head. “I was just thinking of going in for a consultation. It’s free and I don’t have to agree to anything.”

“Sometimes I just don’t get you. If you do go, will you take me with you?”

“Only if you’ll be open minded about it.”

She nodded. “I will be.” She was quiet for a minute. “So are you going to talk to Bram about Fabian?”

I bobbed my head and turned up the heater. “That and I want to ask him about that stranger I saw. Just find out if he’s seen or heard anything unusual.”

“Are we going to Dagan’s too?”

“No, not if I can help it. Ugh, I hate going there.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a charming place.”

I turned a corner and No Regrets loomed before us, the place painted black so you couldn’t delineate it from the dark night sky. A bright red electric sign screamed from the wall and looked like it was floating. A line was already forming around the building. It was the one place where all the creatures of the Netherworld hung out. You might get a few humans thrown in here and there, but most times Bram kept them out. Most Netherworld creatures weren’t crazy about hanging out with humans.

“Crap, look at the line,” Sam said.

I pulled up in front and noticed Bram standing outside with Nick, the ogre. Nick was huge—just shy of eight feet, and he was as big as a wall. Nick’s face was broad, and his nose was flat and wide, with a bull’s ring through the middle. His eyes were too small for his face and his mouth, too big.

Ogres are known for having terrible tempers, and Nick was no exception. I’d seen him bounce a few wily wolves, and it hadn’t been pretty. Broken bones had been the result … and not Nick’s.

A huge smile lit Bram’s handsome face. He was tall—six-five and broad. Standing next to Nick, though, he looked emaciated. When Bram had been turned into a vampire, he’d had a day’s or so growth of stubble, so now he permanently looked the rogue. His looks tied with his English accent gave Colin Firth a run for his money (and I mean when Colin was the Mr. Darcy).

“Ladies, ladies,” he said, materializing directly next to Sam.

She tightened her jaw, but other than that, she looked totally at ease.

“Can I park in the back, Bram?” I asked, noting there wasn’t a spot to be had on the street.

He rested his long fingers on the Wrangler’s passenger door. “Please. Park next to me. I am pleased to see you both.”

Sam rolled her eyes, and I just shook my head. Bram was the quintessential flirt.

“Are you going to let go so I can go park or what?”

He smirked with a great show of fangs and let go of the door as if it’d been scalding hot.

Course, he was dead, so he wouldn’t notice cold or heat or anything else.

I pulled into the back of the No Regrets lot. Bram’s black Porsche beamed under the lamplight like it was proud of itself. I parked in the space next to it.

“Hopefully, Bram will be too busy tonight to bother us,” I said. “After I get my information out of him, that is.”

Sam laughed. “He seems to always make time where you’re concerned.”

I just shook my head and turned the car off as Sam and I jumped out. The back way in was always locked, so we walked around the front. As we passed the long line, I didn’t miss the angry yells and insults those still stuck in line threw at us.

“Hey!” Nick yelled down the line. “Take it elsewhere if you don’t like it.”

“Hi, Nick,” I said, always a little intimidated by the gargantuan guy. He was like looking up a redwood tree.

“Dulcie and Sam,” he said with a drop of his head. Nick had it something bad for Sam, but she was as scared of him as I was.

“Ah, you got my message, Sweet,” Bram said, coming up behind us.

Tension filtered through my shoulders at the mention of “sweet.” Bram thought it was cute or something—Dulce meaning sweet in Spanish. So not original and so freaking annoying.

“I have some Regulator business to discuss with you, Bram,” I said.

He just smiled and leaned his elbow against Nick’s shoulder, who was sitting on a barstool. Bram reached for Sam’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Lovely to see you, Samantha.”

She grumbled something unintelligible and started for the door. Nick gazed at her like she was chocolate and he was on a diet. Bram reached for my hand, but I batted his away.

“Just say hello like any normal person would, Bram.”

He chuckled and dropped his hand. “Do you have your identification on you, Dulcie, Sweet?”

“My ID?” I repeated while irritation blazed through me. The bastard was going to ID me?

“If you are on business, I need to see your A.N.C. ID, Sweet. It’s only standard protocol.”

My ID was sitting on my desk looking at the ceiling and doing me absolutely no good. Goddammit. “I don’t have it,” I said.

“What was that, Sweet?” Bram repeated.

I extended my hand, knowing I’d have to deal with his ministrations if I were to get inside the club and get him to answer even the simplest of questions. He took my hand and rather than kissing it, pulled me into the hard length of his chest. I squeaked in protest as he bent his head, grabbing my neck to hold me in place. Then he kissed me over my jugular. My heart pounded in my chest, as if it wanted to bust free and punch him in the face.

When he let go, I nearly lost my footing. “You son of a,” I started.

Bram’s raspy laugh interrupted me. Nick pretended he hadn’t seen anything, but his face was too red to deny the fact that he had. If I’d been in the right frame of mind, I might’ve actually thought an embarrassed ogre was pretty funny.

“Please, Sweet, go inside, and I will join you shortly,” Bram said.

I turned on my heel and walked inside.

FOUR

I took a seat next to Sam at a table with a “Reserved” sign. As far as I was concerned, it was reserved for us.

“What do you want to drink?” I asked, practically screaming over the loud techno music. No Regrets was a pretty happening spot—it was maybe ten thirty, and already, the place was packed.

“Vodka tonic please.”

I approached the bar, glancing over my shoulder at the throng of dancers on the floor. A black light sporadically spotlighted them, making them look like they were moving in slow motion.

“Hi Dulce, how’s it going?” Angela, the bartender, asked. Leaning against the bar, she pushed her long electric blue bangs out of her face. Last time I’d seen her, her hair was bright yellow but still long in the front and butch short in the back.

I smiled. “Hi Angela, it’s going. How’s business?”

“Good, been real busy lately. What can I get for you?”

“Vodka tonic and a mojito, please.”

She nodded and I felt Bram’s shadowy presence behind me. “That kiss was totally uncalled for,” I whispered.

“Ah, Dulce, I just could not help myself.”

I took my Mojito as Bram reached for Sam’s vodka tonic. I fished inside my purse, fingered my credit card, and tossed it on the bar. Angela reached for it but paused once Bram shook his head.

“It is on the house, Sweet,” he purred.

“Put them on the card, Angela. Thanks. And Bram, don’t pull another stunt like that again.”

Bram’s chuckle was deep. “Excuse me for offering to buy you a drink. If this is how you are with men, it’s no wonder I never see you on a date.”

“I was talking about the kiss, Bram.” I put the glass back on the bar, turning to face him. “And my personal life is none of your business.”

He took a step closer until I could smell the mint of his gum. “It is my business if I wish to be in it.”

“Ugh, would you get over yourself?” I turned on my heel and started for the table, but Bram’s hand on my arm stopped me. I turned around and something in his eyes pulled at me. I could read the desire in his gaze like I was reading a page in a book.

“What the hell was that, Bram?” I demanded through gritted teeth, pulling my arm away from him as if he were contagious. Vampires were notorious for pulling stunts with their eyes—persuading someone to take whatever actions the vampire desired. But Bram wasn’t supposed to bewitch me with his eyes—I should’ve been too powerful to even get an inkling of the feeling he’d just sent me.

“It is my birthday in two months, Sweet.”

Great. Every hundred-year birthday would find a vampire stronger in all abilities—more physically powerful, more mentally capable of persuasion, and most got better looking.

“How old will you be?”

Bram grinned. “Three hundred.”

Crap, he’d be pretty powerful. Not that I was afraid of him—it just went to show that having Bram on my side was exactly where I wanted him. “Why’d you call me the other day?” I asked.

I scooted into the seat next to Sam and watched Bram gingerly hand her the vodka tonic. She nodded her thanks, and Bram pulled up a chair, sitting across from us.

“I had some news for you,” he said with a shrug.

“And what was that?” I asked, knowing information never came free from Bram.

“All in good time, Sweet,” Bram gave me a smile that had probably won him his last few bed partners.

The guy was smooth and, okay, hot—I’d give him that. But that was about all I’d give him. “Bram, what in the hell do you want?” I asked, watching him lean his elbows against the table as he grinned at me for a few seconds. “Hello? Earth to the most annoying vampire I’ve ever met.”

“I want some information, Dulcie O’Neil.”

“And what type of information would that be?”

He leaned back in the chair and eyed the room around him, as if counting the patrons. “Do you recall that abandoned building on Kiwi Street that has been vacant for two months?”

“The one that used to be the Chinese massage parlor?” Sam asked.

Bram nodded, his attention finally resting on me again. “Yes, that one.”

“So what of it?” I asked, wondering what Bram had to do with a Chinese massage parlor. It sounded like the setup to a bad joke.

“Well,” he leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. “I have been considering buying it to open a restaurant.”

“What does that have to do with me?” I snapped.

Someone had killed Fabian and I needed to find out who before the finger started to point at me. I didn’t have time for this crap.

“Patience, fairy. Patience.”

I narrowed my eyes and sipped my drink, counting to ten all the while.

“Get on with it,” Sam said. “Our Bram BS meter is nearing its limit.”

“You two are in a fine mood tonight.” He sighed. “I think, but I am not certain, that Dagan is going to try to beat me to the property.”

“Because he, a demon, wants a Chinese massage parlor?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, Sam, maybe we should get in on it, too. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “I do like massages.”

Bram ignored us. “I got into a row the other day with Dagan, and I think he is trying to get even with me by taking the property out from underneath my nose.”

I sipped my drink. “So let me repeat myself, what the hell does this have to do with me? Why should I give a crap? Because, in case you didn’t notice, I don’t.”

Bram just smiled. “I want you to find out if Dagan is planning on purchasing it.”

“And why do you think he’d tell me? Dagan and I aren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination.” The truth was that Dagan was usually on the wrong side of the law, but the only reason I cut him any sort of slack was due to the fact that he gave me lots of good leads. Hey, sometimes you’ve gotta work with the bad guys to get the even worse guys.

Bram continued to smile like his lips were paralyzed. “He has no reason to hide this from you … it is perfectly legal.”

“He has no reason to share his business dealings with me either.”

“I was thinking that perhaps Samantha might be able to influence him.”

Sam slammed her drink on the table, and it sloshed up and over the side of the rim, as if as outraged as she. “You want me to put a truth spell on a demon?”

Bram just nodded. The vampire had balls.

“No way,” I interrupted. “You must think we’re total idiots.”

“He would never know,” Bram continued. “And I do not think either one of you is an idiot.”

Sam gripped her glass so tight, her knuckles went white. “It’s too risky. If he found out, he’d kill us both.”

“How would he find out?” Bram continued, acting like he was asking us to figure out Dagan’s favorite color.

“How does anyone find anything out? It just happens and I don’t want to be on the end of that temper, thank you very much,” Sam snapped.

Bram quirked another winning smirk in Sam’s direction, no doubt hoping the amorous feelings she’d once harbored for him might serve him well. As her best friend, if I even saw a hint of that happening, I’d curtail it faster than Bram could piss me off again.

“Well, perhaps you wouldn’t need the spell. Just make small talk—see what he says,” Bram offered.

Small talk was doable. A spell on a demon wasn’t. “And if I just ask Dagan some questions, you’ll answer all my questions tonight?” I demanded.

“Yes. I trust your word, Dulcie. I know if you agree to something, you will honor it.”

Yeah, now I was thinking my great sense of honor was going to work against me. Dagan wasn’t someone you wanted to screw around with. Demons are notoriously short-tempered and they don’t get mad or even, they just kill you.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Dagan and see what I can find out,” I said. “Now, I have some questions for you.”

Bram grinned again, his fangs reflecting the low light of the room. As soon as his fangs surfaced, Sam immediately dropped her gaze, and I’d bet money she was thinking about the time she’d let him drink from her. She’d told me the day after it happened. Apparently, they’d been getting hot and heavy, and she’d let him take a little nip of her neck. As soon as he’d started drinking her blood, she’d had like four orgasms in a row. And they weren’t your normal, “this feels good” vibrator-type orgasm. They were mind-blowing, like nothing she’d ever felt before. I’ve never been with a vampire so, of course, I was eating her story up. But even if it sounded good, I still had no interest in some corpse feeding off my neck.

“Ask away, my lady,” the corpse in question said.

“What do you know about Fabian’s death?”

Bram frowned, his brows knotting in the middle of his forehead. “Fabian died?”

“You’re a terrible actor, Bram,” I said with a sigh. I so didn’t have time to deal with this.

He held up his hands as if in submission. I knew better. Trusting Bram would be like trusting a rattlesnake. Fine and good until the thing sinks its fangs into your skin, and you’re dead an hour later.

“Ah, yes, now that I think about it, I had heard Fabian died.”

“Who told you?” I asked.

“Cannot say for sure. It was a general theme in here all night.”

“What did you hear about it?” Sam asked.

“Well, I heard Dulcie was the last to see him, and she was the only suspect.”

Hades be damned. Everyone seemed to be forgetting that I wasn’t the last to see him—the stranger had seen Fabian the same time I had. Course, all anyone had to go on there was my word.

“Dulcie didn’t do it,” Sam said, her mouth tight.

Bram grinned. “I did not say she did. I am merely repeating the rumors I have heard … as you requested.”

I gritted my teeth. “Go on.”

“Apparently Fabian bespelled you and turned you into something vulgar, and you were upset and came back and killed him. I cannot say I blame you. Life is better without Fabian.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I am sure you have wanted to over the years, Dulce?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“Not quite as much as some people I can think of.”

“Ah, Sweet, you and I go way back.”

I sighed. “Regardless, I’m not the one being questioned here. Do you want that information about Dagan?” He nodded. “Yeah, then stop pissing me off.”

“Apologies,” he said, but the smile quirking his lips said he didn’t mean it.

“Okay, what do you know about a stranger in Splendor? Have you seen anyone new lately?”

Bram strummed his fingers along the table as if doing so would help him remember. “There was someone who came in the other night; he was asking for you actually.”

“What? Who?” I demanded.

Bram’s gaze followed a cocktail waitress as she delivered drinks to the table across from ours. Her boobs were hanging so far out of her shirt, they looked like they might fall out. And judging from the expression on Bram’s face, he hoped they would.

I cleared my throat, and he faced me, wetting his lips. “I did not get his name. He said he was passing through but did not give the nature of his business.”

“What did he look like?” Sam asked.

More fingers strumming along the table, the sound like a dull axe reverberating through my head.

“Dark hair and light eyes. Probably your type—resembled me.”

I glanced at Sam. “It was the stranger from Fabian’s.”

A shiver coursed through me like someone had stepped on my grave.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

I shrugged. “Who else would it be?” Then I faced Bram again. “How long was he here?”

“Not long. He came in, had a drink and asked Angela where he could find you.”

“And what did Angela tell him?”

“Perhaps you should ask her.” Bram steepled his fingers in his lap. Then he brought his index fingers together and held them out before him like two guns butting up against one another. “When you hold your fingers like this and focus on them both, it looks like there is a little sausage between them.”

“Bram, for Hades’s sake,” I started.

He dropped his fingers and faced me with a boyish twinkle in his eyes. It would’ve been charming if not for the fangs just cresting his lower lip.

“Talk to Angela, Sweet, she can give you the play by play.”

“I will. In the meantime, though, I’m sure you must’ve asked Angela what she told him?”

“I cannot put anything past you, Dulcie.” He chuckled. “She said he could find you at Headquarters. Then he paid for his drink and walked out. End of story.”

I was quiet as I considered it. If the stranger had been looking for me, why hadn’t he just approached me at Fabian’s? True, I’d left there in a hurry once the little creep had bespelled me. And maybe the stranger hadn’t known what I looked like. But as a fairy, my ears give me away. If he knew I was a fairy, then he would’ve known me from Fabian’s store. It wasn’t like there were lots of fairies in Splendor. In fact, there were only two—Zara the hooker and me.

“When was the stranger here?” I demanded.

Bram looked up at the ceiling as if it had an answer for him. “Evening before last.”

Before Fabian’s death. Interesting.

“Are we done with him yet?” Sam asked, sipping the last of her vodka tonic through the straw until it sounded like the ice cubes were snoring.

Bram turned toward me expectantly, a smile just stealing his lips.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that. Use me then throw me away.”

“Yeah, we’re done.”

Bram stood up so quickly, I didn’t see him move. “Very well, I will leave you two as I have things to do and people to see. Samantha, drinks are free if you are interested. Dulcie insists on paying for hers.”

He gave a theatrical bow and walked away. I glanced at Sam, who sat as still as a tombstone. “What prompted me to ever date him?” she muttered.

I laughed. “Beats the hell out of me.”

She just shook her head, and we both faced the throng of dancers on the floor. Holy Hades, I was so not in the mood to dance. Fabian loomed in the back of my mind like a monster in a kid’s closet.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Sam asked.

I frowned. “Why? I thought you wanted to go out partying tonight?”

“I’m not really feeling it at the moment. You?”

“Actually, I was just thinking the same thing.”

She stood up. “Brilliant minds think alike.”

She started for the door, and I was right behind her. I stopped at the bar and mouthed “credit card” to Angela. She was quick with the receipt. I signed it and dropped the pen back on the bar.

“Thanks, Angela. By the way, did a tall, dark-haired stranger come looking for me?”

“Yeah, maybe two nights ago. I told him he could find you at Headquarters.”

“And he didn’t say anything else?”

She shook her head. “Nope, that was it.”

So Bram hadn’t been full of it.

“Great, thanks, Angela. Have a good night.”

“Will do, night guys.”

I followed Sam outside where Nick gave us a quick smile. Sam didn’t even slow down but ran-walked to the car as if she had to pee.

I unlocked the door with my beeper remote.

“Do you want to go somewhere else or call it a night?” I asked.

Sam threw herself into the passenger seat. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

I started the Wrangler and pulled out of the driveway.

“Okay, sounds fine to me.” Clearly, something was wrong, and I was pretty sure that something happened to have dark hair and a winning smile, even if he was a jerk.

“Are you okay, with seeing Bram and all?”

Nick watched us drive by and waved. I waved back, but I don’t think Sam even noticed him. Poor ogre.

She sighed. Yeah, she wasn’t okay.

“I thought I was, but I don’t know. He’s just so cute.”

“Yeah, he’s cute. It’s a shame the cute ones are always jerks or if not jerks, gay.”

She nodded. “I mean, I think I’m over him. It just sometimes sucks seeing someone again that you used to have feelings for, you know?”

I knew only too well. I’d moved to Splendor from Estuary to ensure I wouldn’t have any run-ins with my ex. And so far so good.

“Well, give it another couple of weeks, and I bet you’ll be totally over him. You just need to find his replacement.”

“I could say the same to you about Jack,” she said and laughed. “You’d think between you and me and our abilities, we could create the perfect guy.”

I shook my head, instantly picturing Frankenstein. So not wanting to try that anytime soon. I had enough problems as it was. Still, it was an interesting thought … What was wrong with me? I was so not contemplating creating a man. Ludicrous.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Sam asked with a wide grin.

No point in lying. “Sort of. But not seriously, of course. It would be cool though. Create some totally hot guy and make him clean our houses and do dishes and laundry.”

“And watch chick movies with us,” Sam added with a sigh.

I laughed and pulled up to her house. Sam undid her seatbelt and opened the door. “Thanks, Dulce. I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

I nodded. “Well, have a good weekend if I don’t talk to you sooner.”

She hopped down from the Wrangler and pulled her house keys from her purse. I waited for her to unlock the front door. Before disappearing inside, she turned and waved. I pulled into the street and headed for my house, imagining our invented man wearing nothing but an apron and ironing my clothes.

***

Captain Slade stood before me on the sandy beaches of some foreign place that looked like Tahiti. The beaches were white, the sky dissolving into the ocean on the horizon. The captain’s chest was bare, a ragged pair of pants his only clothing. My gaze traveled up his exquisite body until it rested on his face. But it wasn’t his face at all, it was Quillan’s.

“What are you doing dressed as a pirate?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve been Captain Slade all along.”

I shook my head and couldn’t grasp how that could be. Captain Slade was a fictional character, and Quillan was my boss. I glanced at him again and Bram smiled back at me.

“You’re the last person I wanted to see,” I said, horrified as he started toward me.

Bram threw me a smirk that was so uniquely his, he could patent it.

“Dulce, Sweet, you know you find me attractive …”

“Dulcie, I need to speak with you.”

It was a voice I didn’t recognize. It reverberated through the sky almost like it belonged to the clouds. But clouds don’t talk. I glanced around but couldn’t find the perpetrator.

“Who is that?” I asked Bram.

“Who is what?” he said and then shrugged, taking hold of my arms. “Let’s talk about us, Dulcie.”

I jerked away from him, the sand slipping between my toes and tickling me like thousands of fleas.

“There is no us,” I said, my eyes still searching the clouds.

“Dulcie.”

It was the voice again. Frustration surged through me as I searched the clouds, spinning around and around, but finding nothing. With a sigh, I stopped, feeling slightly dizzy. As soon as my gaze dropped from the sky, I was in Bram’s club. Bram was nowhere to be found. In fact, I was sitting in a booth completely alone—like No Regrets hadn’t opened for the night. So what was I doing here?

I glanced at the table and found a drink before me. I brought the straw to my mouth and took a couple sips. Hmm, Vodka Cranberry. Not bad. I glanced up and found the stranger who’d been in Fabian’s store sitting across from me.

“You,” I said.

He smiled. “Sorry to interrupt your dream.”

“I’m dreaming?” I repeated, staring into the crystal blue of his eyes.

“You were.” He paused. “You’ll wake up thinking this was a dream but you need to convince yourself it’s real. We have much to discuss.”

I put the drink down, and it disappeared into the surface of the table. “You were in Fabian’s store that day. I saw you.”

He nodded. “I was there looking for you.”

“But I was there. Why didn’t you …”

He shook his head. “The situation wasn’t right, Dulcie.”

“Who are you?”

He smiled and it was beautiful. “When we meet, I’ll tell you.”

“How do I find you? I don’t even know what your name is.”

“I’m waiting for you outside. Just come out.”

I blinked and found I wasn’t in Bram’s club anymore but was in my bed. My alarm clock glowed eerily, the only beacon of light in the dark room. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, glancing around myself as if to prove I really was where I thought I was. Talk about a weird dream.

Then I remembered the stranger’s words—You’ll wake thinking this was a dream. But you need to convince yourself it’s real. We have much to discuss. Just come out.

Hmm. I rolled onto my side, threw my pillow over my head and went back to sleep.

FIVE

My writer’s block was finally gone. It was two a.m. on Monday morning, and I had to go to work in seven hours. I typed the final scene of Captain Slade’s Bounty, clicked save and leaned back, my chair squeaking in protest.

I’d done it. Finished. A slow grin spread across my face as my imagination went into overdrive. I could see it … me landing the perfect agent and making loads of cash. I shut the computer down and walked my empty coffee mug back to the kitchen all the while trying to force myself to yawn, knowing I should get to bed. I just wasn’t tired. Too much caffeine pounded through my veins.

There was an energy in me that would only be appeased by exercise. I threw on stretch pants and a sports bra, then fished my sneakers out from underneath my bed. A good jog would wear me out. Then I could sleep. Jogging in the near middle of the night might not sound too bright, but who was going to mess with a fairy?

I locked the door behind me and started down the steps of my apartment. The air had a certain chill to it, something cold at the moment, but as soon as my blood started pumping, I’d welcome the coolness.

I picked up my feet and started jogging, enjoying the fact that I seemed to be the only person awake at this hour. There’s a certain intimacy to the night when you don’t have to share it with anyone. The sound of my feet pounding against the pavement was my own type of meditation; the chirp of crickets overlaid with the shuffling of various night creatures music to my ears.

I started up the base of a large hill, looking forward to cresting the top. The steep incline was making itself known in the burn of my calves. I hadn’t gone for a run in over a week. Usually, it didn’t sting like this.

“You can do it,” I whispered to myself. Hey, even the magical sometimes need a few words of encouragement.

Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and pushed my legs into the ground. The asphalt leveled off and my muscles relaxed. I opened my eyes with a grin. My gaze focused and my smile faded.

A man stood directly in front of me—maybe ten feet away.

I gasped and stopped in my tracks. Every nerve in my body was alert and standing at attention. My body was poised, ready to rebuff an attack. It was a built-in response in law enforcement. You never know when some asshole’s going to try to make your day.

The man was dressed in black. His hooded sweatshirt hung low over his face, making him look like the Grim Reaper, only without the scythe. He dropped the hood, and in the moonlight, I recognized the stranger from Fabian’s store.

I sucked in a breath. He was just as beautiful as I’d first thought. His black hair had the same reflective quality as raven’s wings and glowed under the moonbeams. The moonlight heightened the angular planes of his face, throwing shadows beneath his cheeks and the square lines of his jaw.

Even if he was beautiful, that didn’t mean he wasn’t here to kill me. And as far as I was concerned, he was here to kill me.

“What do you want?” I said, taking a step back, my feet shoulder width apart and my body tuned to lunge into action should this stranger make a wrong move. Then I remembered I’d left my Op 6 with the dragon blood bullets on the floor next to my bed. How convenient. Well, I could nail him with a lightning bolt or maybe make the ground open up and swallow him.

He made the mistake of coming toward me.

I shook my palm until a mound of fairy dust emerged. I blew the particles at him and imagined him frozen. He stopped mid-gait, like he was stuck in freeze frame; the ice surrounding him twinkled like diamonds. I dropped my shoulders, moving my right arm in a circle, trying to get the blood back into my shoulder. I’d held myself so straight, awaiting his attack, I felt a bit frozen myself.

Either way, I’d just taken down the man who’d probably killed Fabian.

No help from anyone. No problem. Dulcie O’Neil: Regulator extraordinaire. Just what I needed for my review.

I neared him carefully, trying to figure out what the hell he’d wanted from me. No sooner did the thought leave my head, then the ice shattered around him and dropped in an ineffectual mound. I jumped back as a bolt of fear shot through me. As if he’d never even been frozen, he strode toward me again, and he didn't appear to be in a forgiving mood.

I backed up and throwing another handful of fairy dust, imagined a circle of fire surrounding him. He walked right through it. Just walked through the flames like they weren’t even there. Not good. Really not good.

“Stop screwing around,” he said in a deep, harsh voice. “I just want to talk.”

“Then stop walking.”

He didn’t take my advice, so with another thrust of fairy dust, I pictured a lightning bolt. Once I had it sizzling in my hand, I unloaded it on him. He took the bolt right in the chest and fell with the weight of it, landing on his back. It looked like it had not only taken him down, but knocked him completely out. He had to be dead. No one could survive that much energy. Well, maybe a vampire could, but somehow I didn’t think this guy was a vamp.

I kicked his foot, and it shifted slightly but it was an involuntary motion. He was out cold. Which meant I was safe. I squatted down on my calves and reached for his neck, intending to check for a pulse. As soon as I touched him, I felt myself fly through the air and land flat on my back, the air completely pushed out of my lungs.

Then the stranger was atop me, holding my arms down with a superhuman strength. Maybe he was a vampire.

Stars exploded behind my eyes like a fireworks show. I closed my eyes and forced myself to see through the stars. If I passed out, I was as good as dead—it was an open invitation for this jerk to rape or kill me or something worse. I opened my eyes again and could clearly focus on his face as it loomed above me. He wore no expression—just stoic placidity.

“Behave yourself and I’ll let you up.”

I just nodded, the wheezing in my chest admitting its own kind of defeat. “What do you want?”

“To talk. I tried to reach you in your dreams but you ignored me.”

“Who are you?” I managed to choke out.

“Can we go somewhere more private? I don’t want the neighbors to wake up.”

I narrowed my eyes. It was just as it had been in Fabian’s store. There was absolutely no hint of anything—not the smell of a werewolf, nor the pounding in my blood that usually hinted at a vampire. Zip, zilch, nada, nothing.

“There’s a park up the street. Should be empty and there aren’t any houses nearby,” I managed. “That means you’ll have to get off me.”

He stood, but watched me as if ready to pounce. “Lead the way.”

I got to my feet, rubbing the pain out of my hands. I met his eyes and immediately started forward, keeping a sizable gap between us.

“How’d you get into my dream?”

He smiled, and his teeth reflected the moonlight. But I was more concerned with the fact that I couldn’t detect any fangs.

“I have that capability. The power of persuasion. I persuaded you to let me in.”

Eerie. “What are you?”

He stopped walking. I stopped walking.

“How about introductions first? I’m Knight and you’re Dulcie. Nice to meet you.”

He extended his hand, but I didn’t take it—I had no clue what he wanted. Best to keep my defenses up. He dropped his hand, and we started walking again.

“How do you know my name?”

“I’m from the A.N.C. Relations Office in the Netherworld.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slate tablet about the width of my palm. He handed it to me. I noted his image that appeared on the tablet—the stone turning into what looked like a screen. It was a three-dimensional photo—three dimensional to make it difficult to forge. I searched for the indentation on the back that would prove it was an original. I’d met a handful of people from the A.N.C. Relations Office and knew what their badges looked like. I found the indentation on the back and slipped my thumb into the slit.

“Dulcie O’Neil, Regulator, Splendor,” a computerized voice read out from the screen. So far, so good.

“I wish to know if you have a … Knight among the Relations Office employees,” I said, eyeing the subject all the while.

The tablet was quiet as it searched its profiles. “Knightley Vander, Association of Netherworld Creatures, Relations Officer, third precinct.”

So he wasn’t lying. I handed the slate tablet back.

“Believe me now?” he asked.

It was impossible for someone to fake a Netherworld badge to this extent. It had to be real. “Yeah, okay. What are you?”

We reached the park, and Knight took a seat on one of the swings. He looked ridiculous but, okay, sexy. Ahem, really sexy.

“You haven’t come across my species before. There aren’t any of us on Earth.”

That explained why I couldn’t tell what kind of creature he was.

“So you’re from the Netherworld?”

“Yes, I’m a Loki. We were born from the fires of Hades.”

A Loki. Weird. I’d always thought Hades was just a fable.

“So what can you do?” I asked, sounding like a kid comparing video games.

“I can withstand fire for one thing,” he said and laughed, thinking himself funny. I didn’t.

“What do you do for the Relations Office?”

He shifted back and forth in the swing, shuffling his feet. “I’m a detective.”

I leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, crossing one foot over the other. I was trying to look relaxed but finding it difficult.

“What brought you here?”

Knight stopped swinging. “Someone called a creature from the Netherworld to Splendor, and the same creature killed the warlock.”

“Fabian?” I gulped. So Knight was involved, but only so far as he was investigating. Damn. The finger was still pointing at me. “I had nothing to do with it.”

He started swinging again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t think you did. I’m here to find out where the creature is and who summoned it.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

He shrugged. “You’re a Regulator and this is your territory. I thought I should pay you the courtesy of informing you I was here so we could … work together.”

“But you never registered at Headquarters. If you’re so interested in working with us, why not register and why not come to Headquarters to find me? Why talk to Angela about me?”

He arched a brow, and that same slow smile slid over his lips like a snake. “You did your homework. It’s confidential as to why I didn’t register.”

I frowned. “Confidential? I’m law enforcement, too, in case you forgot.”

He nodded. “I didn’t forget. But confidential is confidential. It doesn’t matter who you are.”

I pushed away from the tree, annoyed. “Quillan gives me my jobs, not you. Talk to him.”

“This goes over his head. If you want me to report back to the Relations Office that you were less than willing to comply, I can do that.”

I stopped in my tracks. He was threatening me now? Great, I was stuck. Whatever the Netherworld wanted, it got. Otherwise, I could be deported for failing to do my job. Especially when it appeared that job was now coming from a higher power than Quillan.

“No, don’t do that,” I said, annoyed. “So going back to this creature, you think someone called it?”

Knight smirked, knowing he had me. “I know someone called it.”

His cockiness really irked me. “Do you know what the creature is? I think it’s a werewolf.”

“No, it’s a Kragengen shifter.”

“Oh, really?” I said, pretending to know what the hell that was.

“You don’t have Kragengens here,” he said with a smile, as if he knew what I was thinking. “They only exist in the Netherworld.”

“Great, how in the hell are we going to find a shape-shifter?” I asked. “Talk about a needle in a haystack.

“Kragengens are not true shifters. They can only assume one form aside from their animal forms. If we find it in its human form, we’ve got it.”

I was quiet as I considered it. “What about the fact that there wasn’t any blood?”

“Kragengens are blood suckers though not vampires. Distantly related,” Knight finished, looking as pleased with himself as an A student.

I threw my hands on my hips. “Since you have this all figured out, what do you need my help for?”

He nodded. “Two heads are better than one.”

“Aren’t macho guys like you supposed to insist they work alone?”

He shrugged. “Whoever said I’m macho? Truth of it is, I do prefer to work alone. But orders are orders.”

“You have orders from higher up to work with me?” He nodded. “Why me and not Quillan?”

“Confidential.”

I glared at him. This “confidential” stuff was getting old. “So back to you—you said you were a lichen?”

He laughed again, this time deeper. “A Loki. Lichen is algae.”

Heat shot to my cheeks. Lichen? Ugh. “Whatever, a Loki. What’s so great about you?”

“I have the strength of a vampire and I can influence dreams.”

“That’s it?” I asked, not meaning to sound so rude. “I mean, you can’t do magic?”

He shook his head. “No magic. I’m immune to it, though.”

“So I noticed,” I grumbled, remembering the ice and fire episodes. “Okay, smart-guy, any ideas on how we nab this shape-shifting creature?”

“Based on the fact that it tore Fabian to pieces, it probably enjoys causing pain. So I ask you—where would a supernatural creature who enjoys inflicting pain want to spend its free time, here in Splendor?”

I felt a chill. “Dagan’s S&M club, Payne.”

He slid off the swing and nodded. “Bingo.”

SIX

I pulled into the alley bordering Dagan’s club, Payne. Marilyn Manson’s The Beautiful People blared through the open doors, punctuated with a few rounds of raucous laughter.

“Hey, hottie,” a short guy with frizzy blond hair called out, pursing his lips and kissing the air.

I shook my head, watching him take a drag of his cigarette as he motioned to his crotch. His companion laughed. I ignored them and coaxed the Wrangler into a spot by the back door.

I turned the car off and exhaled, pulling the keys from the ignition. Opening the door, I slid down the seat onto the asphalt below. The heels of my thigh-high stiletto boots tapped the pavement and echoed the frenetic beating of my heart.

A dark form stepped out from behind a dumpster. I steadied myself for an attack, even as I recognized Knight.

“Damn it,” I snapped. “Do you always have to jump out at me?”

He wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt that stuck out against the dark night like a goblin in heaven. The white T-shirt didn’t do much to hide his ample biceps, and was visibly straining around his pecs.

Show off.

“Evening,” he said.

“Night,” I grumbled, forcing my attention from his healthy body.

He chuckled. “Meaning my name or a greeting?”

“Greeting,” I muttered, smoothing down the non-existent creases in my black vinyl miniskirt.

“Are you carrying a gun?” he asked, his gaze starting at my eyes and traveling the length of me. With my black miniskirt, bra top and boots, there wasn’t room for a gun.

“I’ve got magic, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” he said, quirking a brow like my magic wasn’t very impressive. “Well, at least one of us is armed.”

I glanced at him, and he pulled up his shirt revealing the butt of a gun sticking out of his pants. It also revealed what looked like a six pack of abdomen. I looked away.

“Glad you’re prepared,” I said, then feigned interest in my skirt again.

“What should I wear? I imagine jeans and a T-shirt aren’t exactly dress code?”

“No,” I said. “They aren’t.”

“Maybe something not quite as revealing as what you’ve got on?”

“Hey, I’m dressing the part,” I started, my hands on my hips. “Wait until you see some of the women in there—I’ll ...”

“Sorry,” he interrupted, eyeing me again. “You look … incredible. I’m just less thrilled with baring all my assets.”

I frowned but didn’t respond as my thoughts turned to getting the show on the road. First, Knight’s costume. “You might want to take your gun out of your pants.”

“Is that what you say to all the guys?”

I just shook my head.

He removed the gun. Closing my eyes, I shook my hand until a mound of fairy dust appeared. Then I imagined him in black leather pants and tossed the dust into the air. I opened my eyes and watched the dust circle him in a cloud of what looked like glitter. Once it disappeared, I found him before me, chest completely bare. He was nothing short of glorious in shiny leather that clutched his muscular thighs like a second skin.

“I thought you were immune to magic?” I asked.

Knight lifted his legs up as he inspected the boots. “I am. My clothes aren’t.”

I tried not to notice the thick white scar running from his collarbone, across the muscular landscape of his pecs and ending at his waist. It was like someone had taken a knife to a beautiful work of art.

“It’s from a battle with a werewolf,” he said.

I shrugged, pretending indifference. “None of my business.”

He nodded but didn’t drop his attention from my face. I blushed and could’ve hit myself. Hades be damned, blushing was just so … obvious.

“Can I have a shirt?” he asked.

“Most guys inside won’t be wearing one, but if you’re self-conscious about …”

“I’m not self-conscious about anything,” he snapped.

I hadn’t meant to offend him. I hadn’t even been talking about his scar. Dulcie O’Neil, always putting her foot in her mouth. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were, I was just saying …”

Knight’s eyes were piercing. “Never mind. Shouldn’t I have something on to disguise this?” he asked, holding up his gun.

I’d forgotten about the weapon. As he shoved it back into the band of his leather pants, I tossed a fistful of fairy dust at him and imagined a red satiny shirt. It covered the gun perfectly. Knight glanced down and shrugged.

“I’m not thrilled with red.”

“Get used to it,” I said with a smile.

“I have a feeling these pants are going to chafe after a while … if you know what I mean.”

Holy hell, I’d forgotten to give him underwear! “Boxers or briefs?” I demanded, hoping the blood would drain from my flushed face.

He chuckled. “I’m a boxer man, myself.”

I shut my eyes, though I didn’t really have to. But it made the task easier when not confronted with his amused gaze. Producing some fairy dust, I imagined a pair of red satin boxers underneath the leather and opened my eyes, blowing the ethereal particles at him.

Knight glanced down and pulled the band of his pants forward, inspecting the boxers below. “Thanks, not really a satin guy, but I guess these will do,” he said, a smile dancing in his eyes. “Ready?”

I didn’t say anything but headed for the back entrance of Payne. I pushed a button on the intercom.

“Yeah?” A voice echoed through the alley.

“I’m here to see Dagan. It’s Dulcie from Headquarters.”

Silence.

“Hello?” I demanded.

“Do you have an appointment?” the speaker box asked.

“I don’t need an appointment. Just tell Dagan I’m here. He’ll see me.”

There was more silence on the other end. I turned to face Knight who just grinned as if he were enjoying every minute of my disquiet. The door buzzed, and I pushed against it. Knight rested his hand on my lower back, and his touch brought me some sense of ease as I approached the long, dark hallway. I never knew what would happen at Dagan’s.

The insistent thudding of what I hesitated to call music met my ears and rattled around in my head like marbles spilling on a floor. The sound pounded against the walls, the beat almost too fast for even the song to keep up with.

“Prepare yourself for some kinky stuff,” I said.

“To watch or to partake of?”

“To watch,” I snapped.

Dagan appeared at the end of the hall. He was wearing a pair of black boxer shorts, nothing else. Both his nipples wore hoops. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and making his muscles bulge until they looked like they might explode.

Dagan wasn’t that bad to look at—a very large guy … not quite as big as Nick the ogre, but getting close. Tattoos ran the length of his arms and most of his chest. The tattoo on his chest was a wolf fornicating with an angel. Really tasteful. My eyes met his. They were literally black. Not a dark shade of brown, but black. Like vapid pools of nothing.

He glared down a thrice broken nose. “Dulcie, what do you want?”

“I need to talk with you. We have a few questions.”

“Who’s your friend?” Dagan asked, looking Knight up and down like he was Dagan’s own personal sexual fantasy. Dagan wasn’t just gay—he was into it all—women, men, whatever. As long as the sex was painful, he was into it.

“I work with the A.N.C. office in the Netherworld,” Knight said.

“Another cop. Great.” Dagan dropped his attention back to me, his gaze traveling the length of my body as if undressing me with his eyes. “Am I being deported?”

“No, Dagan, you aren’t,” I snapped.

Dagan approached me, and I wished I had my gun. He ran his finger down my shoulder and arm, then grabbed hold of my hand. I held my breath the entire time. My skin burned at the touch of his fingertips, and I didn’t need to glance at my arm to know his touch had left my skin red. A demon’s touch is like instant sunburn to a fairy.

I pulled my hand from his.

“Come in,” Dagan said as he started down the hall.

“Are you alright?” Knight whispered and ran his hand along my arm. I shivered against his touch and glanced down my shoulder, finding the redness completely gone. I faced him in shock, but he just winked.

I turned to Dagan again and followed him to his office. It was in the back of the building and set apart from the hideous things going on in the belly of the monster, that monster being his club. Dagan’s office suited me just fine.

“Have a seat,” Dagan said and closed the door behind us, shutting out the pounding music. His office was black with a few red bulbs fighting against the otherwise pitch darkness. If the devil had an office, this is what it would look like. I took a seat across from Dagan, who piled his legs up on the desk before me. Knight stood in the corner.

It was the four monitors set up against his desk that caught my attention—each one monitoring the four rooms of his establishment. Every room was occupied. The monitors were too far away to detect exactly what was going on within them—something I had no argument with. In this case, ignorance was most definitely bliss.

“Tell your friend to make himself comfortable,” Dagan said as his gaze settled on Knight.

“I’ll stand, thanks,” Knight answered, and I could hear the annoyance in his deep voice.

“Dagan, no more screwing around. I’m sure you’re interested in why we came here?” I asked.

Dagan faced me again with his lazy gaze. “Yes, Dulcie, enlighten me. I didn’t imagine you came for a threesome?”

I couldn’t help my cringe. “No, we didn’t,” I snapped. “And the only reason we dressed the part was because I knew you wouldn’t let us in otherwise.”

Dagan nodded and clasped his hands in his lap, looking like a professor about to scold a less than impressive student. “Right, we’ve been through this before, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, we have,” I said, wishing we could cut through the crap. “We’re here because we need to know if you’ve seen any strangers in the last couple weeks. Anyone you didn’t recognize?”

Dagan laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound—fraught with acerbic undertones. “Dulcie, darling Dulcie.” He dropped his feet to the floor, the thud vibrating through the small room like thunder. “I get people in here I don’t recognize all the time. Sadomasochism draws crowds from all over. We serve a vast clientele.”

Ugh, my question had been pretty dumb. I should’ve known that. Damn.

“This particular stranger would’ve had a zestier appetite than most,” Knight said eloquently, coming to my aid.

Dagan smiled, his gaze holding Knight again. “What kind of zesty appetite?”

I half-turned in my seat, wanting to give my eyes a break from Dagan. Knight was much more pleasant to look at.

He shrugged. “I’d say the creature would enjoy extreme pain—possibly receiving but definitely giving. Have you had any instances that are … out of the ordinary?”

Dagan’s gaze landed on me again, his eyes traveling up my legs until I wanted to cover them. But I didn’t even flinch. I’d trained myself.

“No, nothing I can think of. Now drop the charade, and tell me what’s going on.”

“A.N.C. business,” Knight started.

I shook my head. “He won’t tell us anything until we tell him what he wants to know.”

Dagan released another acid laugh. “Dulce, you know me so well.”

“Something killed Fabian. It was called from the Netherworld and we’re trying to find out who called it. The bigger thing at stake now, though, is finding the creature,” I said.

“I can’t help you, Dulcie. There hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary here in a while. Been boring, actually,” Dagan said.

I started to scoff but Knight’s hand on my shoulder shut me up. “Can we take a look around?” he asked.

Dagan leaned forward, his face suddenly all seriousness. “You can take a look around, but don’t even breathe you’re A.N.C. If my clients suspect any cop, anything, coming out of you, neither of you will be welcome here again. I do a lot to ensure my clientele are comfortable.”

“Understood,” Knight said, gritting his teeth.

Dagan stood. “Then please go ahead. Look around, but don’t call any attention to yourselves. I’ll be around to make sure.”

I stood up, dread pounding through me. Now, I had to drop the cop persona and face whatever horrible things were going on in the belly of the beast.

Dagan stood next to me, so close I could feel the heat of his breath across my cheeks. “Just remember, Dulce, everyone is here of their own accord. Nothing is illegal if they enjoy it.”

“That’s not …”

“Shh,” Knight interrupted and grabbed my arm.

Dagan opened the door. “After you.”

This was so not going to be fun. At least it wasn’t a huge place. Once we did a walk through, we could leave. That’s what I promised myself, anyway.

Dagan watched us walk down the hall and retired back into his office. He’d stay true to his word. If he said he’d keep an eye on us, he would. I’m sure the monitors in his office would help.

I noticed a group of about four or so people standing outside the first room on our little tour. Here’s where the “fun” started.

I stepped beside a woman dressed in what amounted to tape—a piece of duct tape across her breasts and across her … lower area. Later on, it would probably give someone a great amount of pleasure … sadistic pleasure … to rip the tape right off her. And I imagined she’d enjoy it too. I winced involuntarily.

The woman smiled, her gaze roving over me and then Knight who stood directly behind me. She was tall—nearly as tall as Knight and attractive with long red hair.

“What’s going on in there?” I whispered.

The woman leaned down, desire so thick in her eyes, I could’ve cut it. “A woman with three vamps.”

Egad.

She trailed an index finger down my collarbone, stopping just above my breasts. I gulped, trying to swallow the disgust wedging itself in my throat. Knight must’ve noticed because he took a step closer to me and slid his arms around my waist.

“Do you want to get a better look?” he asked and grinned down at me, his eyes sparkling. I could’ve shot him.

So Knight was playing with me? He was going to milk this just as Dagan had. I couldn’t very well say no—talk about destroying my alibi. I turned my attention to the hall as Dagan approached us. Goddammit.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” I managed.

The woman stepped aside and gave Knight a knowing grin and an equally knowing pat on the ass.

“She’s new,” he said.

The woman smiled at me again. “Welcome. If you want to … play later, find me.”

“Thanks,” I managed then moved through the open door. There wasn’t a wall or anything separating the room from the hall, so we all just stood along the sidelines and watched.

Well, I didn’t. I’m not sure how I managed, but I stared at the carpeting the entire time.

“Like it?” I looked up at Dagan who grinned, looking like a shark.

I was about to give him a piece of my mind when I noticed the expression of the woman behind him, the tall red head wearing the duct tape. She watched me inquisitively. Her hands ran the length of Dagan’s naked back, and he leaned into her.

“Yeah, it’s great,” I managed.

Knight pulled me against him and dropped his head into my neck like he was going to bite me. I tried to push away from him, but he held me in an iron grasp.

“Don’t blow our cover,” he whispered.

Then he kissed my neck and ran his hands down my stomach. Shivers raced over my skin. My blood was boiling and not with lust. With anger the likes of which I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Well, okay, and maybe a little lust. Either way, Knight was going to get an earful later.

My gaze drifted to Dagan who’d changed places with the woman and now stood behind her. He kissed the woman’s neck, and she melted into him. He started to pull against the duct tape on her breasts. As if he could read my mind, Dagan faced me, his eyes full of sinister deliberation. The woman moaned against him, and before I could take another breath, he ripped the tape.

“Get me out of here now,” I whispered to Knight.

Knight didn’t respond but lifted me up, newlywed style, and took a few steps away from the room. He dropped me and pushed me against the wall, forcing his lips on mine. As soon as his head shielded my face from the onlookers, I exploded.

“What the hell are you doing!”

“Go with it,” he whispered. “I’m getting us out of here.”

He pushed himself against me and I retreated as far as I could into the unforgiving wall. The concrete scratched my naked back, forcing me into Knight’s kiss. Knight glanced at Dagan, smacked my ass, and then started for the door.

Once outside, I slapped him hard against the face. “What the hell was that?”

It had been the first time someone had kissed me since Jack, over a year ago.

Knight gritted his teeth, his cheek red where my palm had let him know exactly what I thought of him. “If not for me, you would’ve blown our cover. Jesus, Dulcie, you were like a schoolgirl in there.”

“You didn’t have to kiss me and take advantage of the situation. Groping me like that was uncalled for.”

Knight chuckled. “You’re a Regulator, Dulcie. You should know the job isn’t always smooth sailing.”

I frowned and started for my car, my legs weak. “Either way, don’t ever touch me again.”

“Look, it had to be believable.”

“Whatever.” I unlocked the door and hopped into the car. I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here, but I wasn’t about to leave him in leather pants in a dark alley. “How did you get here?”

He shrugged. “I took a cab. I didn’t know how long I’d be here so I neglected to get a rental. I’ll probably get one tomorrow.”

“Get in,” I said with a sigh.

“You’re offering me a ride?” he asked with a bashful grin.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Knight started for the passenger seat. “I’m staying at the Marriott on Evergreen Street.”

I nodded and pulled out of the lot when I remembered I hadn’t brought up Bram’s Chinese massage parlor with Dagan. Damn. Well, now I’d have to make another trip. Double damn.

“Well, that was basically a waste of time,” I said, wanting to break the monotony of silence.

Knight shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s all part of the job.”

So he had a good perspective on it. Guess I was impatient.

“What’s your phone number?” Knight asked.

I threw him a frown. “I’m not giving you my phone number.”

“I need to be able to get in touch with you.” He shrugged. “It’s that or I interrupt your pirate dreams again.”

Heat washed over my face like a wave. I dropped my gaze and tightened my hands on the wheel. How freaking embarrassing could this night get?

I gave him my phone number.

SEVEN

The creature had struck again.

In a matter of two days, there had been two more killings. The first, Guy Riley, had been a well-known illegal potions importer who’d been contributing to the delinquencies lining Splendor streets for years. I couldn’t say his death brought me any level of sorrow.

Now, as Trey and I had been called onto the scene of the second killing, I didn’t know what to expect. Guy had been torn up like Fabian had. And like Fabian, his head had been left. Apparently, the creature didn’t have a taste for brains.

Trey handed me a pair of latex gloves and stepped aside, motioning with his arms that I should go ahead of him. Such the gentleman. I stepped over the yellow crime scene tape and blinked against the glare of the portable floodlights shining down the alleyway.

Guy had been killed inside his dark arts store, much like Fabian had been. But this second murder had taken place in an alley behind Guy’s; almost like the victim had witnessed something he shouldn’t have.

“Do they have any idea who the victim is?” I asked Trey, who’d managed to get on the scene a few minutes before me.

He shook his head. “No, I waited for you.”

I nodded and followed the white hazmat-suited A.N.C. forensics team down the alley where they gathered around what I could only assume was the body. At our approach, they separated like bowling pins.

I glanced down at what was left of the body. As with Fabian and Guy, there was no blood. Just a head and a fleshy mound sitting beside the head. The fleshy mound was about the length of my forearm with the white of various bones peeking through the flesh. I squatted down and reached for the pulpy mass before noting the numbered markers set beside the head and rib cage, used for crime scene photos.

I glanced up at the forensics team who were still surrounding the body.

“Am I good to shift stuff around now?”

A man with beady eyes gave me a salute. “It’s all yours.”

I lifted the fleshy mass. “Rib cage,” I said to Trey.

“That’s what I was thinking too.”

“Bag it,” I said and handed the rib cage to the closest hazmat man. He regarded it with disinterest so I waved my hand a bit, acting the charade of “take this damn thing already.”

“Looks like there are some teeth marks on the bones but other than that, it isn’t going to tell us much more than what we already know about the killer,” I said.

A short man with blond hair and a blonder handlebar moustache opened a clear plastic bag as Mr. Reluctant dropped the rib cage in, sealing it away. It would then go to our crime scene lab to be placed in a cryogenic chamber that would ensure we could return to study it.

One rib cage down, one head left to go.

I sighed and turned to the fun task of rotating the head so we could get an idea of who our John Doe was. In the heat of the lights, I could feel beads of perspiration skiing down the small of my back. No one ever said this job was a glamorous one.

I grabbed a handful of black hair which felt cold against my gloved hand. I rotated the head until the eyes fixed their sightless gaze on me, an expression of wide-eyed shock still resident in them.

I couldn’t help my gasp.

“Tad,” I said in a breathless voice.

Trey groaned and shifted his extreme weight from one leg to the other. “Damn.”

If Guy and Fabian’s deaths hadn’t bothered me much, Tad Jones was a different story. Though Tad had definitely had his dealings with the law and he’d spent many a night in our holding cells, he was someone you wanted to bring under your wing. There was a flawed, but innate goodness about him.

He’d been addicted to marsh root, an illegal potion that worked like speed, since I’d first met him five years ago. He was young—maybe in his late teens and he’d had a hard, short life. He was a werewolf without a pack—he’d been ousted as soon as he’d gotten addicted to marsh. Wolves weren’t the most forgiving of creatures.

“I always liked the kid. Thought he’d clean up eventually,” Trey said as he chewed his lip.

I nodded. “He was a good kid.”

Even though I didn’t say much, that didn’t mean I wasn’t reeling inside. I’d spent lots of time with Tad, talking about his future and trying to help him. As a Regulator, it was my job to bust the bad guys but I also tried to keep everyone on the straight and narrow. I couldn’t help but think I’d failed Tad and it brought stinging tears to my eyes.

“So you think Guy’s murder is related?” Trey asked.

I could tell he was trying to change the subject, trying to get my mind off the fact that I’d failed Tad and because of that, he was now dead before me. I had to give it to Trey for trying.

I cleared my throat, forcing the tears back. I would not cry.

“Yeah,” I said with a sniffle that I turned into a cough.

Trey nodded. “They were both torn up like Fabian,” he said and flicked up one finger.

“They all had something to do with the illegal potion industry.” Finger two.

“Yes,” I said, forcing guilty thoughts of Tad to the back of my mind. I couldn’t save him, but I could damn well find out who killed him and see them pay.

“So whoever did this was trying to cover something up. All the deaths were related to street potions,” I said.

“Fabian was a dealer and so was Guy, but Tad wasn’t,” Trey pointed out.

I nodded. “So why kill him?”

Trey shrugged. “Maybe Tad saw something or knew something?”

“Maybe. I can’t help but think if he’d known something was up, he would have come to me.”

“Yeah, the kid did have a crush on you,” Trey said with a sad smile.

“Whatever it was, he trusted me.”

And I failed him … the silent words clung to my tongue.

“Well, do you think we got enough here?” Trey asked and we both glanced around the alley again, almost waiting for another clue to rear its head. Of course nothing did.

Yeah, I was ready to go.

***

I was tired. Tired, depressed and really not in the mood to go to work but hey, sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to, right? I opened the double glass doors to Headquarters and stifled a sigh.

“You look like something the cat dragged in,” Elsie said with a compassionate smile.

I frowned and bobbed my head—it was all I could manage. Luckily, today didn’t look like much of a busy day—no one in our holding cells and no phones ringing. Thank you, Hades. Now I just needed coffee and lots of it before I started writing up the notes on Tad’s murder.

I walked to my desk and threw myself into the seat.

“Dulce.” I didn’t need to turn around to recognize Quillan’s rich baritone. But I did anyway.

“Morning,” I muttered.

He avoided my gaze. That’s when I knew something was up. “Can I chat with you for a minute?”

Words that no employee ever wants to hear from her boss. I so didn’t want to deal with this today. I stood up with a sigh and followed him into his office.

“Have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”

I took the chair. “Yeah, please.”

Shutting the door, he turned to his Mr. Coffee, and poured me a cup, using a mug I’d gotten him for Christmas. It had a picture of the Blues Brothers—his all-time favorite movie. He plopped one sugar cube and a bit of Coffee-Mate into the cup, then stirred—just how I liked it.

“Here you go.” He handed me the cup. “You and Trey were on the murder case last night?” he started.

“Yeah, it was Tad Jones.”

Quillan shook his head. “Damn shame—he was a good kid.”

I didn’t want to think about exactly what a damn shame it was … shame wasn’t even the word for it. Instead, I turned my attention to the warm cup in my hands and thought about the information I needed to share with Knight. But I had no way to reach him. Guess it would have to wait.

“What did you make of it?” Quillan asked.

I shrugged. “Guy, Fabian and Tad all had something to do with the illegal potion trade. I’m not sure what the link is between them yet, but I intend to find out.”

Quillan nodded. “Next steps?”

“We should put some guys out to monitor the comings and goings of other creatures dealing street potions. Not only for their own good but also to see if we can get any leads.” I paused and tapped my fingers against the ceramic cup. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that all the deaths have to do with street potions and if I had to guess, I’d say the creature will kill again.”

Quillan smiled with a nod of his curly-locked head. “I’ll get a list going of all creatures we’ve suspected of being involved with illegal potions.”

“I don’t mind doing a little reconnaissance, myself.”

Quillan immediately shook his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

I just gave him a small smile of thanks—he knew I didn’t exactly enjoy stakeouts.

“So Dulce …” Quillan started, looking at me anxiously.

“What’s up?”

He rested his tightly packed ass against the edge of the desk, one leg curling over the side, the other stationed on the ground. I leaned back in my chair, a mere six inches from him—so close I could smell his Tommy Bahama aftershave.

“I received word from the Relations Office this morning …”

Great, here it came. He was pissed off I’d withheld information about Knight. Well, what choice did I have? Knight was higher up on the Netherworld totem pole than Quillan, and he’d given me none-too-subtle orders not to breathe a whisper of the case to anyone. This was so not my fault, but I couldn’t even defend myself.

He took a deep breath. “You’re off all future cases.”

I felt like I’d been blindsided by an elephant. “What? What the hell are you talking about? What did I do to deserve this?”

Quillan put a hand on my shoulder, but I coldly shrugged it off. There was no way in hell he was going to make me feel any better about getting … fired.

“This has nothing to do with you,” he said, and it was as dumb a line as when a guy breaks up with you and says it isn’t you, it’s him. It’s you—it’s always you.

“What the hell did I do?”

“The Relations Office seems to think you might be in danger. That’s all they’d tell me. Apparently this is very hush-hush.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What a load! I’m starting to wonder if I’m off the squad because I’m a suspect in Fabian’s murder!”

Quillan shook his head. “You aren’t off the squad. I received word from the Relations Office this morning that you aren’t considered a suspect. I don’t think you ever were.” He paused. “And you know I never thought you were.”

I swallowed a retort. “What kind of danger do they think I’m in?”

“They wouldn’t tell me. They just said to give you a break for a little while. Think of it as a little downtime—a mini vacation.”

I leaned back in my chair. At least I wasn’t fired. But this whole danger business? It made no sense. Somehow Knight had to be involved, and the bummer of the whole thing was that I couldn’t ask a damned question without somehow bringing Knight into it.

“For how long?” I asked.

“Until I hear back from Relations and they tell me.”

I dropped his gaze. “This sucks.”

“I know you’re angry, Dulce, but it’s for your own good. Fabian’s killer is still out there and now with the other murders … this way you’ll be protected.”

“Protected?” I scoffed. “How will I be protected? By staying home?” Well, there was Sam’s protection spell on my house, but somehow I didn’t think Quillan was referring to that. And Sam’s spell could be broken.

“That’s not the end of the story. We’re … setting up some other protection for you.”

“What does that mean?”

“A few gremlins to patrol your house.”

I started shaking my head. “But …”

Quillan interrupted me. “You won’t see them. They’ll be out back in the woods but close enough to keep an eye on the place.”

“Gremlins, Quillan? You should be more afraid of them attacking me!” Gremlins had the unfortunate reputation of attacking anything that moved. “And what about my neighbors? They’re all human and wouldn’t survive a gremlin attack. That is the worst freaking idea …”

“The Netherworld is sending a species of evolved gremlins. They’re smarter and stronger than your average … gremlin.”

I was so pissed off, I didn’t even get to ponder the fact that I’d warranted Netherworld gremlins. “This bites the big one, Quillan.”

He shook his head, like he didn’t think it bit the big one at all. Yeah, well he wasn’t about to have gremlins pooping in his yard and killing neighbors’ animals if not the neighbors themselves.

I was so going to be evicted.

“You won’t even see them. They have strict orders to stay on the perimeter of the property. The only thing you have to do is feed them once a day.”

“Feed them?” I stood up. “What the hell am I supposed to feed them?”

Quillan laughed. “Dog food. Two scoops a day.”

“Okay, you do realize I’ve killed every houseplant I’ve ever owned?”

A smirk played with his lips. “Dulce, I’m sure you’ll be fine. This will be good for you.”

“I never planned on having a dog or a cat or anything else. I’m not a pet person.”

The smile didn’t vanish from his lips. “Well, now you have gremlins.”

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying this.”

Quillan crossed his arms above his chest. “It might be slightly entertaining but I’m more worried about you than anything else.” He paused. “I’m going to check on you every day after work.”

I sat down again and sighed until it felt like all the air was escaping my lungs. “You don’t have to do that. With freaking gremlins around, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Quillan touched my shoulder again. “I want to. You know I don’t want anything bad happening to you, Dulce.”

I dropped my gaze as heat rushed to my cheeks. “Yeah, yeah,” I waved away his concern with an indifferent hand. “I’m your favorite, blah blah blah.”

Quillan laughed but it didn’t make me feel any better.

“How many gremlins do I have to feed?”

“Just two.”

I nodded, feeling slightly guilty that I was still keeping the fact that Knight and I were working together from Quillan. Quillan was a good boss and my friend.

“So am I free to go now?” I asked.

“Yes, and just so you know, the gremlins are arriving tonight.”

Holy Hades, it was like a bad horror movie. “Great, then I need to go to the store and get some Purina.” I shook my head. “Goddammit.”

Quillan chuckled. “I already took care of that for you, Dulce. I’ve got it in my truck.”

I forced myself to smile. It wasn’t his fault. He was trying to make this as easy on me as he could. “Thanks, Quill. What time are you coming over?”

“How about six thirty? I’ll bring dinner.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

He laughed. “I’ll try not to.”

***

When six p.m. rolled around, I’d managed to e-mail my Captain Slade queries to nearly every agency on my list. I stood up, stretched, and caught my reflection in the mirror. An oversized T-shirt and boxers weren’t the greatest thing to wear when company's expected.

I neared the door of my bedroom and eyed my jeans draped over my armchair. They’d do. I threw them on along with a black tank top and considered myself dressed. I mean, I didn’t want to give Quillan the wrong impression.

A knock sounded on the front door.

After checking the peephole, I pulled it open and found Quillan with a bag of Alpo on one shoulder and dog dishes in both hands.

I reached for the dishes, but Quillan just grinned and showed himself into my unremarkable apartment.

“Where should I put this?” he asked and lifted his shoulder as if he needed to draw attention to the enormous bag of dog food.

“How about outside?”

He frowned. “It’ll get wet outside or animals will get into it. You need to embrace the gremlins, Dulce.”

I’m sure he couldn’t help his smile. “Funny. I guess in the kitchen.”

Quillan dropped the mammoth bag of Alpo onto my linoleum floor and headed for the back door that led into the woods bordering my apartment building. I watched him open the door and drop both bowls onto the weed-ridden “yard.”

“And what do I do if any of my neighbors sees one of the ugly things and freaks out?” I asked.

Quillan slapped his hands together as if his job here was done and closed the door behind him. “They won’t. I cast an illusion, so to the unknowing eye, they look just like dogs—a Labrador and a Dalmatian, to be exact.”

“I’m not allowed to have dogs here.”

“Then don’t let anyone see you feed them. They’ll stay in the woods and won’t cause you any trouble. No one will even notice they’re here.” Quillan started for the front door. “I left the food in the truck. Got Chinese.”

Of course, that immediately made me think of the massage parlor. Dammit, I still needed to pay a visit to Dagan.

“That sounds great, thanks Quill.”

I watched his large frame as he walked through the door, then I started for the kitchen. Pulling out my best silverware, I held a fork up to the light and used the hem of my shirt to wipe away the water spots.

Quillan walked back in, the smell of sweet and sour something wooing my nose. My stomach growled, and I could feel my cheeks instantly coloring. Quillan didn’t seem to notice or was polite enough not to comment. He started dishing us up, as I searched for a place for us to sit. I only had two chairs and one was currently residing at my desk. Quillan handed me a plate and motioned for me to sit at the table while he assumed my computer chair.

“So when are the gremlins coming?” I asked.

“Not sure. The delivery guy is supposed to call me when they’re close.”

“Thanks,” I managed and watched him take a few bites. He accidentally nudged my mouse and Captain Slade’s Bounty jumped onto the screen, causing a bite of Chinese food to get lodged in my throat.

“What are you going to do with your free time?” Quillan asked as he glanced at the word document.

I shrugged, trying to swallow my panic and a lump of sweet and sour pork. I had done all my search and replaces of Quillan’s name, hadn’t I?

“Nothing really,” I answered.

Quillan nodded and turned his attention to the computer again. “What’s this?”

I jumped from my seat and raced to the computer, hoping and praying Captain Slade’s name would greet me. “It’s a book.”

Quillan took a bite of rice. “What’s it about?”

I blushed and reached the desk, scanning the page. “Um, pirates.”

He glanced at the screen again. “Cool, I like pirates. May I?”

I nodded before I could stop myself and peered over his shoulder as he read the page and clicked to the next. And there, highlighted in blue was Quillan’s name with the prompt: replace? staring at me like it was having the last laugh.

“What?” he started, sounding completely confused.

Heat like liquid lava attacked my neck and face as I tried to grab the mouse but he shifted it away and continued reading.

“I, um … I was using you as the inspiration for one of my characters,” I said, my heart pounding in my head.

“You were?” He actually sounded flattered. “Captain Quillan reached out to Clementine and grabbed her by the bodice,” he read as I cringed. “Pulling her to him, he grabbed her head and tilting it back, brought his lips to her throat as she moaned in ecstasy.”

I lurched for the mouse and closed the document. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Quillan swiveled around in his chair and gave me a huge smile. “Wow.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I said, searching for a reasonable excuse as to why my boss’s name happened to be in my sex scene. “I just wanted Captain Slade to be … a blond and um … you were the first person who came to mind.”

Okay, that didn’t totally suck.

“Oh,” Quillan said and dropped his smile.

“Yeah, it just makes it easier for me to write when I can think about the people I know.” I paused. “Trey and Sam are in it too.”

Okay, getting better.

His phone went off before he could ask me any more questions, and I inwardly sighed.

“Hi,” Quillan said into the receiver. “Yeah, we’re here. Ten minutes? Great.”

He hung up and faced me again, delving back into his Chinese food. I was already full.

“You’re finished?” he asked and eyed me like he didn’t trust me.

“Yeah, I don’t eat much. Want the rest?” I offered my plate. He nodded, still mid chew, and took the plate.

When he was halfway through my dinner, the sound of the doorbell interrupted us. I got up, but Quillan was quick to subdue me. “Don’t know who it is, better that I get it.”

I jumped in front of him. “Give me a break. This is my house, and Sam’s spell keeps anything bad away.”

“Sam’s spell is breakable, Dulce,” Quillan said, looking fatigued.

“I know that,” I snapped.

The doorbell dinged again. Quillan sighed. “You’re so stubborn,” he said as I pulled open the door, and we both faced a short and rotund man. Well, actually, goblin.

“Delivery for a Dulcie O’Neil,” the goblin said. “Got them in the truck.”

Quillan started after him. I decided to clean up the Chinese food. Glancing out my kitchen window, which overlooked the yard, I watched as Quillan and the goblin struggled with a large wooden crate. Finding the Chinese food less than interesting, I started for the living room window, which would offer a better view.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like any of my neighbors were home. Quillan had probably cast a spell to keep them away. Whatever worked, I guess.

Thinking I should pay more attention to my new companions, I started for the front door and closing it behind me, followed the curse words into the back yard. Quillan had a crow bar up against the crate, and the goblin had one on the opposite side. They pulled together, and the front popped open.

Neither man moved, but something inside the crate did. It poked its head out and continued advancing, looking like some sort of pig dog. Labrador or Dalmatian? Yeah, no. Its enormous head looked like a bulbous circular mound with two red eyes and tusks as long as my forearms.

Quillan neared the opening of the crate, bending down as if to make friends with the hideous thing. The gremlin approached him, and sniffed at his hand. Its skin was pasty white and completely devoid of fur. It looked like an albino dog with mange. It wasn’t a small creature. Seated, it came up to my waist, and its head was easily bigger than any St. Bernard’s. But this creature had nothing endearing about him, even if you wrapped a little first aid kit around its neck.

“Dulce, come say hello,” Quillan said, before turning to face me.

Reluctantly, I started toward the crate, noticing the other gremlin cautiously making its way out of the enclosure. I stood beside Quillan, and he drew my hand forward. The strange little creature sniffed it with little interest. Apparently finding me less than appetizing, it trotted off into the woods, its friend following.

“So which one’s the Lab, and which one’s the Dalmatian?” I asked.

Quillan smiled down at me. “Very funny, Dulce.”

An hour later, I had two gremlins who were happily scouting out the environment of the woods alongside my apartment. I was doing dishes, and Quillan was en route back to his place.

The shrill ring of the phone cut right through the calmness of the moment. I answered it and heard the unmistakable sound of panting on the other end.

“Dulce, it’s Trey. I gotta come over.”

“What?” I was less than polite but still, Trey needing to come over was definitely on the weird side. We weren’t exactly friends and we’d never been to one another’s houses, which was totally and completely fine by me.

“I had a vision, Dulce. I had a vision of the creature killing Fabian.”

My heart about dropped out of my chest.

EIGHT

Trey was shaking, but he assured me it wasn’t unusual after he had a vision. Not blessed with second sight, I had nothing to go on but his word.

“Do you want a glass of water?” I asked as I showed him into my living room.

He shook his head, sweat sailing from his forehead onto my floor. I tried not to gag and instead, motioned him toward the couch. “Have a seat.”

Trey threw himself onto the sofa, the cushions and springs groaning under his weight. His gaze rested on the TV until it looked like he was hypnotized. But the TV wasn’t on, so it couldn’t have been that enthralling.

“I know I’m not supposed to be here—Quillan said you were off the squad for a while. But, Dulce, I thought you’d want to know anyway.”

I got the gist of it. Trey was scared but didn’t want to go to Quillan in his current unsettled state. And he probably didn’t want to stay home either, with visions of a creature tearing Fabian apart dancing in his head.

“Do you want to take the couch tonight?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I could. I’m usually not like this after a vision, but this one was pretty bad.” He glanced away, and I knew there was more. I just hoped he wouldn’t start crying—his lower lip was trembling like a three-year-old before a tantrum.

“I’m afraid if anyone knows I had the vision, they’ll come after me. There’s a lot of incriminating stuff in it.”

That was something I hadn’t considered. “How would they find out?”

“When I have visions, sometimes whoever is involved knows I’m having them.”

“That’s happened before?”

“Yep, if whomever I see is sensitive enough, they can pick up on it.”

“If that’s the case, you need to tell Quillan. You should be protected.”

Trey just nodded, but it was a nod that said he probably wouldn’t. That was one of the things I didn’t get about men—the whole machismo thing—that if Trey told Quillan he was scared, he’d look like a wuss.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” I started.

Trey exhaled. “Here goes. I was eating dinner tonight, and it hit me out of nowhere. I saw Fabian in his store. It was late, and he was there by himself. Then I remember seeing him trying to get away from something. I got the impression that whatever it was, it was female. And there was someone else in the background. He was dressed all in black and had his head down so I couldn’t see his face. But he was there, watching the whole thing.”

“Okay, you think the creature is female. That’s good to know. Did you catch anything about the size of it or what it looked like?”

He shook his head. “No, nothing. I might’ve been seeing the situation through the creature’s eyes. I could see everything about … Fabian.”

Trey shivered and dropped his attention to his fidgeting hands. “I can’t be alone, Dulce. Not after seeing that.”

“You can stay here tonight. I’ve got Sam’s protection spell on the place, and Quillan dropped off two gremlins earlier this evening so I’m about as safe as can be.” I laughed, trying to lighten Trey’s mood, but he barely managed a half smile. I’d never seen him like this, and it freaked me out. Usually he was the annoying sidekick—the perpetual thorn in my side. I wasn’t prepared for a role change.

“Thanks, Dulce.”

“You know you have to tell Quillan tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m off the case, remember?”

How I was going to get this information to Knight was another question. I’d given him my phone number, but I didn’t have his. I’d have to wait until he called me or showed up in my dreams again. Hopefully I’d get the call.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

I stood up and started for the hall closet, pulling two blue blankets from the top shelf and tossed them to Trey. “I’m going to get some shuteye. It’s been a long day,” I said.

A sad smile twisted his lips. “Yeah, me too.”

“Help yourself to anything—there’s some left over Chinese and juice and beers in the fridge.”

Trey threw me a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Dulce. This means a lot to me. I owe you one.”

“No worries,” I said and started for my bedroom. “Night, Trey.”

***

I woke up to the sound of the shower running. Trey had literally made himself at home. Not that it bothered me. I sat up and sighed, pushing my feet into my dog slippers. I plodded into the living room and noticed Trey had folded the blankets neatly in a corner of the couch.

I started for the kitchen to put the coffee on. The shower stopped and moments later, Trey walked into the kitchen wearing his clothes from last night.

“What’s for breakfast?” he asked and I suddenly had the very strange image of waking up to him every morning. Egad.

“Just the leftover Chinese food. Want some coffee?”

“No, no coffee, but do you mind if I help myself to the Chinese?”

I shook my head and handed him a fork. “Go for it. Are you driving to Headquarters now?”

“Yeah,” he said as he pulled a box of Chinese from the fridge. He started in on the cold fried rice right away, not even pausing to take a seat. The dude was serious about eating.

“Do you need to stay here tonight?” I asked, trying to sound … friendly. It wasn’t that I’m a bitch or anything. I’m just not really used to having company. Maybe I’m a little on the antisocial side. But considering Trey’s current state, he needed a friend.

He shook his head. “No, I think I’ll be alright. I’ve got to get over it anyway—it’s not like I’m going to move in with you.”

He actually looked hopeful.

“Exactly. Will you do me a favor, and talk to Sam? She’ll put a protection spell on your place.”

“Yep, I’ll do that,” he said.

“I’ll call you tonight to see how you are.”

“What are you up to today?” he asked.

My thoughts returned to his question and my face flushed. Sam was meeting me in about an hour to go to my ear augmentation consultation. Not like I wanted to admit that to Trey anytime soon. “Oh, Sam and I are meeting for lunch.” It was sort of the truth, we were planning on getting lunch—afterwards.

Trey finished his rice, threw the container in the trash, and then faced me with a big grin. He started for the door, looking one hundred times better than he had last night. “Well, I guess I better get to work. Thanks, Dulce.”

“Sure, Trey, I’ll see you later.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Sam and I were sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Goodman’s. I hadn’t been able to shake my intense feelings of anxiety, guilt and excitement—anxiety because I was eager to hear what the doctor would say; guilt because it was like I was failing some part of me just by considering this; and excitement because I’ve always hated my ears. Now, they all warred with each other until I felt nauseous.

“Trey came to my place last night,” I whispered. Sam dropped the magazine she’d been reading back on the side table.

“What for?” she asked and wiggled her eyebrows. “I didn’t think he was your type.”

An image of his shiny forehead sweating bullets littered my mind. “Come on, Sam. You don’t think I slept with Trey, do you?”

She started to laugh. “No, I guess that would be totally weird.”

“I haven’t had a date in a while, but I’m not desperate.”

“Okay, point taken. Why did he come over?”

“He saw a vision of Fabian’s murder.”

Her eyes went wide. “Did he see who did it?”

“No, not exactly. Just that the creature was female. He was super freaked out, though, and stayed the night. I’m worried about him.”

And honestly, as much as he annoyed me, I was worried. If what Trey said about the creature sensing him was true, he could be in serious trouble.

I faced Sam again. “Can you put a protection spell on his place?”

“Yeah, sure. Why was he so scared?”

“He was worried the thing might come after him.”

“Do you think it will?”

“I don’t know.”

She was silent as she considered it. “You know Quillan is going to be pissed off if he finds out you’re still working on this case?”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why he isn’t going to find out.” I considered telling her about Knight. Part of me knew I shouldn’t—that it was top secret, but the other part of me wanted to gab. That part won.

“You’re never going to believe this, Sam, but …”

“Dulcie O’Neil?” the receptionist interrupted and gave me an expression that said I’d better hurry.

I guess Dr. Goodman didn’t like waiting for his patients. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I stood up and started forward, Sam behind me. The receptionist led us to the first room down the hall and told us to take a seat. She closed the door behind us, and we were alone again.

“What won’t I believe?” Sam started, her eyes sparkling.

“Some detective from the Netherworld was sent over here to find out about Fabian’s murder. He said that someone summoned the creature from the Netherworld.”

Sam’s eyes went wider. “That’s an automatic death sentence for whoever called it.”

“I know. Anyway, this detective said he had orders from the Relations Office to work with me.”

“Wow, Quillan is going to be uber pissed. Or does he already know? Is that why you’re off the case now?”

“No, Quillan doesn’t know. The order to put me under protection came from the Relations Office. Quillan had nothing to do with it. No one is supposed to know I’m working with the Relations team on the case.”

Sam crossed her arms against her chest. “My lips are sealed. You know me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I told you. So the kicker in this whole thing is that the detective is that guy from Fabian’s shop. The stranger.”

Sam gasped. “Dulce, you need to be careful. What if he’s involved?”

I waved away her worry like an errant fly. “He’s not. I checked out his badge. He’s legit.”

“What’s his name?”

“Knight.”

“Wow, sexy name. Is he as hot as you first thought?”

I paused. Was Knight as hot as I’d first thought? Hmm. An image of him in tight black leather pants erupted in my mind. That broad, muscular chest. Sparkling blue eyes and black hair. “Hotter.”

Then the door opened, putting a halt to our conversation. The doctor was tall and his forehead so high, he must’ve had a big brain. He smiled at both of us, but I couldn’t really say he saw us. It was one of those polite but completely impersonal smiles. He closed the door behind him, and in perfectly upright posture, took the leather chair in front of us, swinging around until he looked like a corpse going through rigor mortis.

He glanced at what I presumed was my file, flipping through the pages with ennui. “Which of you is Dulcie?” he asked in a high-pitched and nasally voice.

“That’s me.”

He didn’t glance up but continued shuffling through the library of papers. “You’re here to find out about ear augmentation?”

“Yeah, I don’t like the points at the top of my ears.”

He still hadn’t acknowledged me. “Are you a fairy?”

“What else would I be, a Vulcan?”

Sam laughed, the doctor didn’t. I dropped the smile from my lips and nodded. “Yeah, I’m a fairy.”

He sighed. “That makes it a little more difficult.”

“Why’s that?” Sam asked, her voice wary.

The doctor eyed her down his ski-slope nose. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Sam, Dulcie’s best friend.”

He faced me again, ignoring Sam. She glanced at me, anger etching her features. “It’s difficult because the properties in your blood and tissue are different than a human’s. The operation requires some extra equipment and possibly more anesthesia,” the doctor concluded.

Extra equipment?

“Okay,” I said, not really sure what else to say.

He stood up and towered over me. He motioned with his long fingers that I should stand. I handed Sam my purse and got to my feet. Then he turned me so I was facing the wall and shifted my hair behind my right ear. He ran a cold finger down the length of my ear, and I shuddered involuntarily.

“They certainly are pointed, aren’t they?”

“She’s a fairy,” Sam snapped. “I don’t see anything wrong with them.”

I gave her a discouraging look.

“Yes, that’s a matter of opinion, I suppose,” the doctor said, and a wave of resentment wafted through me. Why did doctors have to be such jerks?

He turned me to face him again. “Other than those ears, you are beautiful.” It was the same thing Jack had told me for five years. “An ear augmentation would make you perfect.”

I sat down again, feeling like I was selling my soul to the devil. I glanced at Sam, who was feigning interest in her shoes. A fierce pink had taken over her cheeks.

“How long would the surgery take?” I asked, trying to draw Sam’s attention away from her irritation.

“Maybe two hours. Depends on how much you bleed.”

I disregarded that statement. “What would it cost?”

He shrugged, and that meant it would cost more than I wanted to spend. I had a lot of money in savings—granted it was so I could retire from law enforcement and focus on writing full time. I guess I could work a little longer.

“Normally ear augmentation runs around six thousand dollars for both ears. But since you’re a fairy, which complicates it, I’d say you could expect to pay around ten thousand.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve gotta be kidding,”

The doctor’s stern expression said he wasn’t kidding—not by a long shot.

“Okay, great, let me take some time to think about it,” I said and stood. Sam was quick behind me.

The doctor didn’t stand but gave us another frozen smile in compensation. “Hope to see you again soon,” he said.

We showed ourselves out.

“Have you lost your mind, Dulce?” Sam asked as we left the building. “You can’t have that cretin operating on you. What a jerk! Ten thousand dollars?”

I unlocked my car. “Yeah, he was a creep, wasn’t he?”

“I’d say so. Please tell me you aren’t considering it.”

I shrugged. “I can’t lie, Sam. I’ve been thinking about this for so long now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Even though you won’t admit it, I think this has everything to do with Jack.”

“Well, let’s agree to disagree.”

***

Two hours later, I was back at home, replaying the events of the day in my head as I turned on my computer. Yeah, the doctor hadn’t been especially friendly, but I really wanted the surgery. I’d wanted it for years now and though Sam was convinced it had everything to do with my jerk ex-boyfriend, I wasn’t convinced. I mean, I’d disliked my ears before Jack was ever in the picture. But Jack being the reason—or not—didn’t take away from the fact that the doctor was a jerk. Of course, there weren’t any other ear augmentation specialists in a hundred mile radius of me. So I was stuck between a Doc and a hard place.

I logged into my e-mail, excited to see if any agents or publishers had responded to my query. As for the surgery, I pushed it to the back of my mind. There wasn’t a rush. I could decide later.

I had eighteen new e-mails in my inbox. My heartbeat raced. Upon further inspection, they were all agents and publishers. Wow. That had to be good, right? I opened the first one.

Dear Ms. O’Neil,

Thank you for your interest in Jones & Jones representing Captain Slade’s Bounty. Unfortunately, we don’t feel strongly enough about the work to offer you representation, but we wish you the best of luck.

Okay, so that was just one. There were seventeen more.

After getting to the fifteenth, I started recognizing a pattern—rejection. I opened the last e-mail and sighed. Another rejection. At least this agent had ended the e-mail by telling me historicals were out and the market was really looking for paranormals.

Un-flippin’-believable.

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hi, Dulce.” It was Sam. “Thought any more about the ear thing?”

“No, haven’t made up my mind.”

“You sound bummed out.”

“I just got rejected by every agent and publisher I queried. One of them said historicals aren’t popular right now but paranormals are. Paranormals, I mean, come on. Who the hell reads those?”

“Sorry to hear it. Don’t lose faith though.” She paused. “Maybe you should write a paranormal.”

“I’m done. I put everything I had into that book and not one agent wanted to look at it. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a writer.”

“Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Dulce. Maybe you just have to give the market what it’s looking for and it sounds like that would be a paranormal.”

“I have no interest in that. What would I write about anyway?”

Sam was quiet for a minute. “I know.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Write a book about Bram. Everyone loves vampires, right?”

Hmm, if you want to succeed you have to be flexible, right? Maybe it would do me good to try another genre. “Yeah, that’s an idea,” I started, considering it. “He’d eat it up, I’m sure. His ego is already big enough as it is. Any bigger and it could take out a small family.”

Sam laughed. “Okay, well I gotta run. Quillan wants something. Just wanted to check in on you.”

I could hear Quillan talking with her.

“Quillan says hi, and he’s stopping by after work tonight,” she finished.

“Okay, tell him hi back and I’ll see him later. Thanks, Sam.”

I hung up, pondering a book about Bram. Maybe it was worth a shot.

NINE

I didn’t think it was Quillan’s responsibility to buy dinner again, so I ordered a pizza.

“Ham and pineapple, my favorite,” he said, sinking his teeth into a slice.

I smiled—his stopping by every day after work was becoming comfortable. Today had only been the third time, but somehow it felt … right. The thought scared the crap out of me. What was I thinking? I was Quillan’s employee. And nothing more.

“How are the gremlins working out?” Quillan asked between bites.

I pulled my attention from the wall, where I’d been zoning out into space and daydreaming about all the things that could and would never be.

“So far so good. I haven’t seen them. Well, other than feeding them every morning.”

Quillan nodded, but his attention was glued to the floor. He took another bite, chewing slowly. There was something definitely bothering him. If he’d had laser vision, I’d have a sizable hole burned into my carpet right about now.

“What’s up, Quill?” I asked, half wondering if I really wanted to know.

He dropped the crust of pizza onto the plate. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm?”

“I overheard you and Sam talking on the phone the other day about a doctor’s appointment you had.”

Mortification, embarrassment and shame all took turns attacking my pride until I felt like a pile of self-consciousness.

“That’s really none of your business.”

He nodded, but by the steel set to his lips, he wasn’t giving up. “I know. It’s not, Dulce, but I care about you and I thought I should tell you … you don’t need surgery.”

My face had to be bright red—the blaze of complete and total humiliation flooding my cheeks like red dye dropped in water. I wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment.

“Well, I wish you hadn’t overheard our conversation, since it was private.”

“Have you made up your mind about it yet?”

“No.” I paused, pretending extreme interest in removing the lint from my sweatshirt. “And I really don’t want to talk about it.” I picked up my pizza, which suddenly seemed to weigh twenty pounds, and brought it to my mouth. I chewed but couldn’t taste anything, the aftertaste of shame still polluting my mouth.

Quillan took another bite of his pizza, and the silence in the room was telling. I put my slice back on the plate, feeling completely stuffed and more so … sick.

“You know the anesthesia could kill you or screw up your brain, right?” he finally said. “We can’t handle that sort of stuff, Dulce. We’re not like humans.”

I sighed. “Quill …”

“Just indulge me for a minute, Dulcie, please.”

No, I'd indulged him long enough. The subject was closed. It was my decision and damn anyone who wanted to change my mind. “The anesthesia will be fine.”

Even though I spoke with assurance, I wasn’t convinced. The risks of complication had always been the foremost reason I hadn’t gone through with the surgery. But Quillan’s doubts didn’t need company.

He shook his head. “Our bodies aren’t meant to handle harsh human sedatives. It’s a huge risk.”

I stood up and dropped my pizza slice into the trashcan, wishing I could dump the conversation as easily. My eyes fell to the view outside my window as I searched for the gremlins, hoping to focus on something else.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Why are you doing it?”

Quillan’s voice came from behind me. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to think about the fact that he was standing so close. His crisp aftershave hit me like a truck and I closed my eyes. After a second or two, I forced my eyes open and turned around. He stood maybe two inches from me, the heat of his breath searing my neck. I took a step back.

“Why do you think I’m doing, er, thinking of doing it?” I quipped, but he didn’t respond. “Because obviously I don’t like my ears.”

Quillan’s jaw tightened. “It’s not because some guy wants you to do it?”

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I turned my back to him and gazed outside the window again, much preferring the view to the stubbornness in Quillan’s eyes.

“I’m doing it for myself. I just happen not to like my pointed ears, and I think if they were … normal looking …”

“You’d be prettier? Maybe happier?” The sarcasm in his voice fueled my anger like kerosene on a fire.

“Yes, I think I’d be prettier and maybe happier!”

“I think you’ll be disappointed.”

I turned around to face him again but losing my mojo, I dropped my eyes back to the floor, hating the fact that I was so mortified, I couldn’t hold his gaze. “Regardless of what you think, I’d be happier with how I look.”

He was silent for a second. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

I searched for any indication of teasing in his expression. But his face reflected mine—not a smile, not a sign of playful repartee, just an earnest, searching look as though we were both trying to read each other's thoughts. “I … I um, I don’t know what to say,” I managed. Quillan grabbed my hand forcing my attention back to him again.

“Not only do I think that, but you’re the best person on my team.”

“Quill …” I started, not wanting a “you’re so money and you don’t even know it” conversation.

“You’re the smartest on the team, Dulce. You’re the best employee I have.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “Thanks, Quill, but I really don’t need to hear all this.”

His eyes narrowed. “Not only that, but I’ve had to talk myself out of asking you out on a date since you joined my team.”

My eyes went wide. It was like I was in a movie, maybe a dream. I’d always imagined I was just Quillan’s cohort, one of the guys, his favorite employee maybe. “So is this my review?” I asked with a flippant laugh, trying to make light of the situation.

“No, Dulce, it’s not.”

I looked down again, wishing the ground would open and swallow me. After another hopeless silence, I glanced up at Quillan—almost to make sure he was still there. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. We just stared at each other. Before I could blink, Quillan leaned into me, his face inches from mine.

“Can I kiss you, Dulce?”

I nodded dumbly as he ran his hands through my hair and he brought his lips to mine. His lips were soft and full. I closed my eyes and reveled in the taste and smell of him. He pulled me closer and I wrapped my arms around his chest, allowing myself to sink into him. Surprise flashed through me when I felt his tongue in my mouth.

A wave of unease blew through me and I pulled away. He was my boss, and as such, I shouldn’t be kissing him. He didn’t drop his arms from around my waist.

“Are you okay?” he asked, flashing an embarrassed smile.

I nodded. “I, um, I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

He laughed. “Good surprised or bad surprised?”

“Good surprised.” I glanced away, trying to calm my frantic heart. “I just never thought you felt this way about me.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

I was spared the need to respond when the shrill ring of the phone interrupted. I lunged for it, breaking from Quillan’s embrace. “Huh-Hello?”

“Dulce, it’s Sam. You’ve gotta get to Trey’s house now. I haven’t been able to reach Quillan …”

“Trey?” Shock jolted me like a splash of cold water.

“Quillan’s here,” I said.

“Good. He needs to come too.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

She sighed as if it was too long a story to get into over the phone. “Just come over as fast as you can. I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Okay, but tell me—is Trey … okay?”

“Yes, just hurry.”

I hung up and faced a puzzled Quillan. “Something’s wrong with Trey. Sam said we should go over there now.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. She just said we need to hurry.”

He shook his head. “You’re off any cases, Dulce.”

My mouth dropped open. “That’s not fair. What am I supposed to do, Quill?”

“Wait here. I’ll take care of Trey.”

“But—”

“Relations Office orders, Dulce.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what if the creature comes here while you’re gone? How will you feel then?”

He looked like he was going to fight me about it but ended up laughing and shook his head. Then he pulled his keys from his pocket and started for the door. “How do you to talk me into these things?”

I followed him outside to his black Ford F-150 and got in before he changed his mind. Not that I thought he would—he never had in the past. But then, we’d never kissed in the past either. This kissing thing was really going to screw things up—I could see it already.

“You look pissed off,” Quillan said and pulled into the street.

I glanced out the window. “I’m just wondering where we … stand now.”

“Where do you want us to stand?”

Hmm, I wasn’t sure. I’d imagined kissing Quillan so many times but my daydreams hadn’t ever progressed past the kissing stage. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me you don’t regret it.”

I threw him a consoling smile, even though the verdict was still out over whether or not I regretted it. “Not at all, Boss.”

He glanced at me and put his hand on my knee. “We’ll figure it out, Dulce.”

Five minutes later, he pulled in front of a white stucco building with an unkempt front yard. Turning off the engine, he offered me a consoling smile before opening the door and jumping down. He started for the apartment building, me in tow.

As soon as we reached the top step, a worried Sam burst from the door of the first apartment down the hall. “Good, you’re here.”

Quillan disappeared inside Trey’s apartment. Sam held the door for me, distress evident in her frown lines.

“What’s wrong with Trey?” I asked as she closed the door behind me. Trey’s apartment was dark—the thick curtains barring any sunlight. The furniture was mismatched and old—stuff even Good Will would throw away. The place smelled of stale beer and trash lined the floor like it had a right to be there. I glanced at the other side of the room and made out the shape of Trey lying prone atop a filthy sofa.

Sam took a deep breath like she was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “He’s under a sleeping spell.” Then she took another breath. “I called him on the way home from work today to see how he was since he was still freaked out about that vision he had. But when I called, he didn’t answer. I decided to swing by and found him like this.”

“He looks dead,” I started.

“What vision?” Quillan asked.

“Trey called me the other night because he’d seen a vision of Fabian’s murder. He knew it was a female creature and someone else was involved,” I said.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Quillan snapped.

I shook my head. “I told him to, but he was really upset at the time. I guess he didn’t want you to think he was a wuss.”

“I don’t care about that,” Quillan said, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I should’ve been told. It’s part of the case details. Dulcie, you should’ve told me.”

I held up my hands. “Hey, I’m off the case, remember?”

He frowned. “What else?”

“He was worried that whoever was involved in Fabian’s murder would know he’d had the vision and would come after him.”

Quillan nodded, like he was letting it all sink in. Then he turned to Sam. “Are you sure it isn’t worse than a sleeping spell?”

Sam brushed her hair back from her face. “I did a couple divination spells on him. I know it’s a Sleeper; it’ll take me a while more to figure out what strain. Whoever did it is well-versed in magic.”

“Do you think it’s a witch?” Quillan asked.

Sam shook her head. “I have no way of knowing. But I’d guess it was a witch, fairy, elf, warlock … someone with ready access to magic.”

“None of that matters now, though,” I interrupted. “Can you break the spell?”

“I’m going to need some supplies. Since Fabian’s is closed, I have to drive to Harmony tomorrow to get what I need, Quillan.” Even though it was a statement, there was a question in her tone.

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“So you can’t break it until tomorrow?” I asked.

“No way I can do it tonight. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to break it tomorrow—depends on what I can find in Harmony.”

“Will he be safe until then?” I asked, trying not to look at Trey. It was uncanny how dead he looked—it was like we were at his funeral and taking turns looking at the body. Only this funeral parlor reeked of old beer.

“He’s fine. Think of him as Sleeping Beauty,” Sam said with a forced laugh. “But he shouldn’t stay here tonight. Who knows if the person or thing who did this might come back?”

“He should stay with me,” I said. “Between Sam’s spell and the gremlins, my place would be like trying to bust into a military base.”

“Wow, Dulce, you trying out for the Girl Scouts?” Sam asked.

I shrugged. “Just trying to do my part.”

Quillan nodded. “It’s a good idea, Dulce. I’ll get the big guy to your apartment.” Then he faced Sam. “As soon as we get Trey situated, I need to take your statement.”

“Say hi to Lottie for me,” I said with a wink.

***

Sam and Quillan took off twenty minutes later, leaving me alone with my comatose guest. We’d set Trey up on my couch and now he lay there with my blue blanket stretched out over him. I felt like I was living Weekend at Bernie’s or something.

I glanced at Trey and not finding him in need of anything, returned my attention to my e-mail inbox where I’d just opened three more rejection letters for Captain Slade. Big goddammit.

The phone rang and I picked it up mindlessly, not even glancing at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Dulcie.”

It was Knight.

I narrowed my eyes. “Ah, just the person I wanted to talk to.”

He chuckled flirtatiously. “Is that so?”

I stood up and rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, jerkoff, I didn’t appreciate that stunt you pulled at the Relations Office to get me off the squad.”

Total silence. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Too bad.”

I sputtered. “You arrogant …”

“It was for your own good.”

“So now I have nothing to do all day, I’m not getting paid and I have two ugly gremlins running amok in my yard. I really got the short end of the stick on this one.”

“Sorry about the pay thing, but it was necessary. And I didn’t order the gremlins, so I have no idea what that’s about.”

“Oh, you didn’t order the gremlins? So what, I have like a secret admirer who sends me monsters instead of candies?”

Knight laughed, pissing me off more. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe the Relations Office thought you needed them. I’ll check into it.”

I sat down again and faced my inbox, the rejection notices staring back at me like they were laughing. Well, screw them. “Where the hell have you been?” I asked, wondering why I hadn’t heard from him in the last four days or so. I checked the caller ID, but the number wasn’t listed.

“Before you answer, what’s your number?”

He gave me the number and then added, “I’ve been running background reports on all the creatures in Splendor.”

I sank back against my chair. Yeah, that would probably take a good three to four days. “Let me guess; was I in that batch of reports?” Knight chuckled again, and even though it annoyed me to admit it, it was damned sexy.

“I ran a report on you before we ever met.”

Great, that was comforting. “Well, I have news for you.”

“Do tell.”

I explained the Tad Jones and Guy Riley murders, how they each had something to do with the illegal potions trade and finally, the Trey situation.

“Is your friend a good enough witch to break the spell?” Knight asked.

“Yes, she is,” I snapped.

“If she can’t, I could. She’s meeting you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I answered, rolling my eyes. Holy Hades, the man was arrogant.

“Okay, I’ll meet you both at your place, then.”

“Aren’t you afraid of involving Headquarters in your little secret case?” I asked, my tone thick.

“If your friend is trustworthy, I’ll swear her to secrecy.”

“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I didn’t wait for a response before I hung up.

TEN

Sam came to my apartment around midday, loaded with two shopping bags full of herbs, potions and other less appealing things like freeze dried bat wings, newt legs and sheep intestine. I watched her dump the contents of both bags onto my kitchen table and made a mental note to disinfect the area once she finished.

“Dulce, can you get some bowls and spoons? We’re going to need to mix up a few different concoctions.”

I nodded and threw open the cupboard doors. I gathered up three bowls—one small and orange, one Tupperware and one large blue one. All covered in a fine layer of dust.

Just as I finished rinsing them off, the doorbell rang, announcing Knight’s arrival. “Can you get that, Sam?” I asked, holding up the orange bowl as if to say my hands were occupied. “Check the peephole first,” I added.

She threw me a smile. “A little paranoid?”

“Better to be paranoid than taken by surprise.”

“Who is it?” she called and peered through the peephole. “Hello tall, dark and handsome.”

“Knight Vander,” he answered.

“Happy?” she asked as her hand rested on the knob.

I just nodded.

Sam threw open the door with a large smile. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

I craned my neck as far as I could without actually moving from my position against the kitchen counter and watched Knight as he walked into the living room. He was dressed in dark jeans and a long sleeved black T-shirt. His hair looked freshly cut—the ends no longer curled up. His dark golden tan seemed to emit a light of its own.

He extended his hand toward Sam. “Pleased to meet you, Sam.”

Sam smiled and accepted his offered hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said in a soft voice.

Knight turned and caught me staring at him like a lovesick schoolgirl. “Dulcie,” he said, a grin breaking across his handsome face.

I muttered an unenthusiastic “hi” and busied myself with drying the bowls, which I’d already dried. I then retrieved two spoons and placed everything neatly on the kitchen table next to the hideous ingredients Sam had pulled from the shopping bags.

Knight neared the table and examined everything as if he were a health inspector. Apparently satisfied, he turned his attention to Trey who still slept on the couch. Knight approached him and picked up his hand, checking his pulse.

“He’s not dead,” I started but was interrupted by Sam, who turned toward me and mouthed: “he’s hot.”

I just shook my head.

“Should we get started?” Knight asked.

Sam clapped her hands together like a cheerleader excited for the big game and took a step closer to him. “Well, I went to Harmony and got everything I could to break the spell.” She paused. “Are you a … witch too?”

Knight shook his head. “No …”

“He isn’t magical like us,” I blurted, then immediately wished I hadn’t sounded all of thirteen. Knight grinned, apparently taking no offense to my Tourette’s syndrome moment.

“No, I’m not magical but I can tell whether something might break the spell on your friend. I thought I might be able to help you pick the right anti-potion.”

“Okay, sure. If you don’t mind my asking, what are you?” Sam asked.

“I’m a Loki.”

Sam’s confusion was evident by her vacant expression.

“He’s from the Netherworld,” I said. “They don’t have Lokis here.”

Was Lokis even the plural? Lokae? Knight didn’t correct me, so I just went with it.

“Oh,” Sam said, trying to quell her surprise. I knew she was bursting to ask him a million questions but knowing Sam, she wanted to be polite. That, or she was intimidated by Knight. Probably the latter.

“What have you got?” Knight asked, facing the table with his arms crossed against his broad chest.

“I’ve got every herb you can think of. And I picked up a white tincture, an erasing potion and a PH 3 potion.”

Knight nodded like he understood what she was talking about. I couldn’t help but scoff—as if he knew! Although my magic allows me to create stuff with my fairy dust, I don’t know the first thing about potions. Unless you’re a witch or warlock, one who relies on creating magic rather than possessing magic, there’s really no reason to study potions. And Knight wasn’t a witch or warlock—he was a bullshitter.

And I was going to call him on it. “What do those potions do?” I asked, then noticed Sam about to respond. “Knight?”

He nodded at the challenge in my tone. “A white tincture will combat any colored potions and pull the strength from them; an erasing potion will erase whatever charm was put on your friend; and a PH 3 potion will negate any spells put on him by means of acid.”

Sam smiled; I didn’t. “Well done. You know your witchcraft,” she said, beaming at him like he was her star pupil.

I frowned and brought the bowls to Sam. She took them and handed one to Knight. “What do you think we should try first?” she asked him. “Maybe the tincture?”

It didn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t ask me. But, hey, I didn’t feel sorry for myself.

“You know this better than I do, Sam,” Knight responded, giving me a grin. Bastard.

Sam laughed and started reaching for ingredients. Damn Knight for winning over my best friend.

“Well, I’m thinking that maybe the white tincture might work best. That way we can find out if any colored spells were used on Trey. From there, we can probably just use the erasing potion to break down the potency of whatever’s left,” Sam said.

“Sounds good to me,” Knight concurred.

“Yeah, me too,” I added, though they might as well have spoken Aramaic.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, thinking maybe I should go work on something else since I clearly wasn’t needed. Let the Bobsey Twins figure it out for themselves. Just as I was about to make my escape, Sam stopped me.

“Dulce, can you boil some water please?”

I nodded and watched her dump a quarter of the white tincture into the bowl. Then she broke off a piece of the bat’s wing, snapping it like a dried leaf. Yuck. She paused and glanced at me.

“Here, take this.” She handed me a lemon.

“What, are we making lemonade?”

“Cut it in half and once the water comes to a boil, squeeze the lemon into the water. Make sure you don’t get any seeds in it, though.”

I pulled out a knife and sliced the lemon in half. Then I pulled out the seeds. “What’s the lemon juice for?”

“It pulls all the impurities from the water and air so they don’t taint my spell,” Sam answered. I’d been half hoping her star pupil would answer. I just liked the sound of his voice—like deep, rumbling thunder.

“Oh,” I said and turned to watch the water boil.

Meanwhile, Sam and Knight continued to work together on the spell, laughing and comparing spell notes as if they were in a college biology class and about to dissect a frog.

The water started bubbling and grabbed my attention. I reached for the lemon half and squeezed it over the hissing water. The sharp scent of citrus wafted up in the steam. Is there a better smell than freshly squeezed lemon?

“Okay, the water’s boiling and I squeezed the lemon. Now what?”

Sam turned toward me, propping her hands on her hips. “Can you bring it here and carefully pour it in the bowl?” Then she faced Knight. “Would you get some of Trey’s hair?”

“Sure. Dulcie, where are your scissors?”

I reached into my knife block and considered throwing them at him. Instead, I handed him the scissors. In return, he winked. Actually winked!

The smug jerk walked over to Trey and cut off a good tuft of hair. Knight then handed the tuft of hair to Sam, who set it on the table.

“Water, Dulce,” she said, and I realized I’d abandoned my post.

“Sorry,” I answered and approached them, the pot roiling and spitting. “Do you want me to start pouring now?” I asked, looking into the bowl. The white tincture looked like sand, and with the pieces of bat wing and frog guts, it looked like some weird foreign dish.

“Yeah, slowly,” Sam answered.

I poured. As soon as the water hit the tincture, it began bubbling and let off a huge puff of white smoke. The bat wing started bouncing, but the frog guts did nothing at all.

“Knight, could you add the hair, please?” Sam asked.

He nodded and dropped the tress of hair into the mixture. As soon as it hit the white stuff, the tincture turned blood red. Sam started stirring. The puff of smoke went from white to light pink to a deeper pink and finally turned into a fire engine red.

“Ah, they used a scarlet potion, did they?” Sam asked.

I felt like saying “yes,” but I said nothing at all. Better not to be thought a smart ass … or a dumb ass.

She continued to watch the potion, as if expecting it to do something else. After another ten seconds or so, she straightened her back and turned toward Knight and me with a triumphant smile.

“What is it?” I asked.

“They’ve just used a scarlet on him. That’s easy enough to break. Knight, would you mind handing me the erasing vial, please?”

He handed it to her, and she pulled the cork from the bottle. “Dulce, do you have a measuring spoon?”

I opened a drawer and sorted through it until I found a rusted teaspoon. “All I have is a teaspoon—sorry.”

Sam frowned. “That’ll do. Can you soak it in lemon juice?”

I nodded and pulled a small saucer from the cupboard. I squeezed the remaining lemon half and then basted both sides of the old teaspoon. “Okay, now what?”

“Hand it to Knight, please.”

I did so and he held it over the bowl as Sam poured an exact teaspoon of the erasing potion into the spoon. It bubbled against the lemon juice and turned mint green.

“Dump it in,” Sam said.

Knight rotated his hand, and the mint green met up with the scarlet red. That’s when all hell broke loose. The scarlet liquid pulled up against the side of the bowl as if afraid to touch the tiny teaspoon of green.

“Dulcie!” Sam yelled. “Plastic wrap, quick!”

I lunged for the Saran wrap in the bottom drawer and threw it at her. Knight caught it and ripped off a piece of plastic while the potion in the bowl sloshed against the sides angrily. Knight wrapped the plastic on top of the bowl, and Sam sighed a breath of relief. The potion threw itself against the plastic and no longer afraid of being showered in Hades knew what, I leaned in to get a closer look.

The mint green erasing potion had left the scarlet white in its wake. Now it looked like a one-man army going to slay the river of red. It inched slowly toward the red, which had now completely thrown itself up against the opposite side of the bowl. The white liquid behind the green was placid, just sitting there happily. The green attacked the red, and in about four more seconds, the whole bowl was white and sitting patiently as if it had been lobotomized.

“Hmm,” Sam said as she chewed her lip.

“Hmm?” I asked. “Why doesn’t that sound good?”

She shook her head. “I did everything I was supposed to. Now it should turn deep blue, but it’s still white.”

Knight and I leaned over the potion to inspect it, hoping to see a blue tint take over the pearly white. Nothing happened. Sam pulled off the plastic wrap and reached inside her bag again. She pulled a small piece of litmus paper out, which she plopped into the bowl. The color of the litmus didn’t change.

“Something’s not right,” she said.

Knight reached inside his pocket and produced a vial of beige powder.

“What’s that?” I asked, wondering if I was the weird one because I didn’t happen to carry around random vials of potions.

“Another test—to see if the reason Sam’s spell didn’t work is because something illegal was used on Trey.”

I nodded, mentally kicking myself. An illegal spell made perfect sense. All the facts in this case were revolving around the illegal potion trade, so why wouldn’t the bastards have used something not available on the market?

Knight dropped a pinch of the beige powder into the bowl and long, white wisps of smoke circled up from the tincture like ghosts only to dissolve into the air.

“It is an illegal,” Sam said in awe. “Am I right in thinking it’s a Sleeping Beauty?”

Knight chuckled. “You’re right on the money, Sam.”

“How are we going to break that?” I asked.

Sam smiled. “The only place they keep the anti-potion is at Headquarters. And you’re the only one with clearance to get in after hours, Dulce.”

I frowned. “If my clearance hasn’t already been revoked. And even if I can get through the front doors, you know I can’t access the vault.”

The vault was where all confiscated illegal potions evidence was stored until the Netherworld sent us potion-destroying cauldrons. Our cauldron shipment happened once a week.

“I can get you in anywhere,” Knight said and handed me a white key-card.

“If you have access, then why don’t you do it?” I asked archly.

Knight shook his head. “Because I don’t want to alert anyone to my presence. You can come and go unsuspected.”

I glanced down at the card and thought about what they were asking me to do. “You do realize if I get caught, Quillan is going to be furious. This could mean I’m off the team for good. No one gets access to the vault; I don’t even think Quillan has access.”

Sam chewed her lip. “Maybe we should just call Quillan then?”

“No,” Knight interrupted. “This is still top secret. Dulcie, you have my permission to go after the anti-potion. If you have any issues, I’ll take it up with the Relations Office.”

***

When I showed up at Headquarters, the only person around was Elsie, who was tasked with watching our prisoner, a drunk goblin named Ehling who wasn’t a stranger to Headquarters. At the moment, he was passed out on a wooden bench. Elsie glanced at me and didn’t seem too surprised to see me; sometimes I had to work late evenings so maybe she didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary.

“Hi, Dulce, what brings you here?” she asked and settled the book she’d been reading on her lap.

I swallowed my palpitating heart and forced a smile. “I came to clear out some stuff from my desk.”

She nodded. “I think this whole situation is a load, if you ask me. You’re the best agent we’ve got. They’re shooting themselves in the foot.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Elsie, I appreciate that.” And the Hades honest truth was I did appreciate it. At least someone recognized the fact that I was good at what I did. Which only made me feel worse about lying to her.

I started down the hallway, pleased the vault was as far from Elsie as could be. As long as no one else was out and about, I’d be fine.

“If you need any help, just holler,” she called after me.

“Will do!”

I found my desk and shuffled around it, thinking I should pack some things so my being here didn’t look suspicious. Finding a small box on Trey’s desk, I emptied out his rubber band ball collection and started packing up my business card holder, a few pens and three coffee mugs. I left the box on my seat so I could grab it on my way out.

Then, eyeing my surroundings, I moved toward the vault, which was behind Quillan’s office and at the end of the hall. Grabbing a piece of blank paper, I scrunched it up and started for the vault, thinking maybe I could say I was looking for a wastebasket in which to toss the paper in case anyone noticed me. Course, why I wouldn’t have used my own trashcan was a good question, but one I didn’t want to bother with.

No one was around. Thank Hades.

The vault ran the length and height of one wall and now glared down at me, as though knowing I had no right to enter. I eyed the card scanner that would grant me access and pulled Knight’s key card from my pocket. Then I slipped it in with a silent prayer. The doors slid open and I grabbed the card, walking inside before the doors closed behind me.

I was in.

Once inside though, I didn’t know where to go. With a sigh, I glanced around, taking in the rows of unlabeled, white boxes sitting atop pine shelves. But I wasn’t about to start digging through those. Hoping my anti-potion would be easier to find, I headed for the back of the vault where I noticed multicolored vials sitting on the top shelf, contrasting against the dull steel of the vault wall.

Upon closer inspection, these vials were labeled and all were anti-potions—a good fifty or so. Great. Sam had told me the potion I was looking for was purple and called Dragonroot. I scanned the numerous titles: Whisker Remover, Au de Wort, Crabapple … finally I settled on a small, cylindrical vial holding what looked like grape juice. Grabbing a nearby bucket, I turned it over and standing on it, grabbed the vial. Even though the label was peeling off and difficult to read even up close, I could faintly make it out. Dragonroot—I was in business. I threw it in my pocket before turning around.

A loud thump came from behind me. My heart leapt into my throat. As I scurried off the bucket, one foot tripped over the other and I careened onto the floor. I pulled myself up and glanced around, looking for whatever had made the noise.

No one was in the room.

Even if no one was in the room, I’d made enough of a clatter when I’d fallen that Elsie would come investigating.

Then the noise sounded again and I jumped around. The row of anti-potions innocently stared back at me. I shook my head, when one of the potions, a bright pink powder in a test tube, jumped up and pounded itself against the steel wall. And there was my culprit—Megane, an anti-potion that reacted to body heat. I must have been letting off a high temp when I’d been after the Dragonroot.

I fingered the Dragonroot in my pocket and started for the vault door. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a small closet-like room off the main hall of the vault; inside were more of those white boxes but beside the boxes were hundreds of clear bottles with long cylindrical necks and wide bottoms, like an I Dream of Jeanie bottle. It wasn’t so much the bottles that grabbed my interest as what was in them. A fluorescent green liquid, and fluorescent green liquid could only mean one thing—Arsonflower. We’d busted a dealer with a house full of Arsonflower months ago and now the very same bust was sitting on the shelf like it was having the last laugh. I’d thought the Netherworld was better at getting rid of illegal potions than this! No wonder no one had access to the vault.

I turned on my heel, slipped the card in the reader, and hurried outside the doors as soon as they opened. Running to my desk, I grabbed Trey’s box.

“Did you hear a noise?” Elsie asked.

I glanced up and said a silent prayer of thanks that Elsie hadn’t found me leaving the vault. “No, I didn’t hear a thing.”

She frowned but seconds later, a smile took control of her lips. “Hmm, oh well. Must be hearing things!”

I started for the front door. “Night, Elsie.”

She waved. “See you soon, I hope.”

***

Back at my apartment, Sam took the Dragonroot anti-potion and with an eye dropper, sucked up the liquid and released exactly three drops into the bowl of potion that was supposed to break Trey’s spell. As soon as the anti-potion interacted with the white substance, the white immediately turned into a sapphire blue and Sam beamed at me. I guess I’d done a good job.

She removed the plastic wrap and shook the bowl a bit. “Okay, we’re good to go. The spell should be broken.”

I glanced at Trey, who still looked as dead as he had before. “Are you sure?”

“We need to put a dollop of this on the strongest of his pulse points,” Sam answered.

“On his neck and wrists?” I asked.

Knight nodded. “That should do.”

Sam picked up the bowl and neared the comatose Trey. “Dulce, can you shift his head so I can get to his neck?”

I wasn’t exactly thrilled with touching Trey but I took hold of his neck and shifted it to the side while Sam reached her hand into the concoction and piled it atop his neck, getting his pulse point as well as his hair and the pillow below him.

My pillow, I might add.

“Why so much?” I asked.

“Too much is better than not enough.”

Knight reached for Trey’s wrists and placed them palm up alongside his still body. Sam reached into her bowl for another scoop of white stuff and pasted. As soon as she finished whiting out both of his wrists, Trey’s eyes popped open like someone had flipped on his life switch.

“You did it!” I said.

“Sam,” Trey started, his eyes dilating. “What’s going on?”

Sam took a seat next to him. “You were under a sleeping spell, Trey. I just managed to crack it.”

He started to sit up, but Knight pushed him back into the couch. “You need to relax,” Knight said.

Trey’s eyes traveled slowly to Knight. “Who are you?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Dulcie’s cousin, Todd,” Knight said before anyone else could respond.

My cousin? Todd?

“I didn’t know Dulcie had a cousin,” Trey said, and sighed as if it took all his energy.

“Do you know who did this to you?” Knight asked, apparently not thrilled with perpetuating his lie.

“Try to remember, Trey,” Sam added.

Trey shook his head. “I don’t know. I just remember being at my place, and then I heard something and went to the living room to investigate … I can’t remember anything else.”

“Well, someone was trying to silence you,” I said, hoping that might trigger something.

Sam sighed. “We should probably call Quillan. He was working another important case today, otherwise he would’ve been here, Trey,” she finished.

“I think Trey should still stay here with me,” I said. I guess I was feeling magnanimous again. Who knew how long it would last …

Trey looked up at me, his expression quizzical. “You let me stay with you again?”

I nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been here a couple of days.”

“Wow. Thanks, Dulce, I didn’t know you actually liked me.”

I shrugged. “You’re okay for a hobgoblin. Even if—”

Suddenly, Trey’s eyes rolled back into his head. He trembled violently as if a seven point earthquake was originating from his chest.

“What the hell?” I started, panic seizing me.

Sam grabbed his hand. “Trey! I think he’s having a vision.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Knight grabbed hold of Trey’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “Knight, what the hell are you …?”

Knight took hold of my upper arm in an iron grasp. As soon as he touched me, I was flooded with emotions that weren’t my own.

I tried to pull against him, not understanding what the hell was going on. Before I could make any headway, my brain erupted into a fit of images, all flowing through my mind like a stack of pictures in the wind. I closed my eyes. The images stopped flying about and the more I focused, the more they fell into place, until I could actually piece together the scene before me.

It was Fabian’s store. And Fabian was still alive. It was like watching a home video—he was whistling as he unloaded a box full of potions. I tried to decipher if they were illegal potions but couldn’t get close enough to find out. Out of the darkness, something swooshed by. Fabian brought his head up, having seen it as well.

After finding nothing, he dropped his head and went back to unloading the inventory. Just like that, the something was on him. It moved light speed fast. Fabian fell against the floor and clawed at his assailant. A feeling of intense agony ricocheted up my body, starting at my legs and ending in my gut, the feeling of something tearing at my insides. I ignored the painful throbbing, knowing it wasn’t happening to me. It had happened to Fabian, and it was his pain I was feeling. Still, my knees went weak, and I collapsed against Knight, who held me up against him but wouldn’t release me—he wanted me to see this.

An image of a woman loomed before me, before Fabian. Her mouth was full of sharply pointed teeth—like a shark. Blood trailed down her mouth and contrasted against the pale flesh caught in her teeth. I felt my stomach turn. It was Fabian’s flesh. She’d eaten him! She’d eaten him while he was still alive. Just as she’d no doubt eaten Guy and Tad as well.

She laughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then I recognized her. She was the tall redhead from Dagan’s club! The one wearing the tape. The one Dagan had seemed to be enjoying.

Holy Hades! Did Dagan know about her? Was Dagan even still alive?

The vision ended, and the room came into view. Knight released me. I tried to right myself, but I couldn’t move. He maneuvered me to the sofa next to Trey and sat me down.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered.

“I channeled Trey’s vision,” Knight responded. “Did you recognize her?”

I nodded weakly.

“Who?” Sam interrupted. “What the heck just happened?”

I took in a deep breath and focused on her pale face. “We know who the creature is.”

ELEVEN

I was alone.

It seemed like the first time in a long time, and I relished my privacy; relished the fact that I didn’t have to look at Trey’s bloated and sweaty face, verbally spar with Knight, or wonder if Quillan was going to bring up our kiss. Men were in a word … exhausting.

I sank into the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table, still reeling from the events of the week. We knew who the creature was—it was an exhilarating feeling. I had to keep myself from taking action—there wasn’t anything I could do until I questioned Dagan about the redhead’s whereabouts and that wouldn’t be until tonight … with Knight.

That, and Quillan was on his way over to drop off Trey. Quillan had decided that Trey could and should still be working, but because of the whole protection thing, he wanted to make sure someone was with Trey twenty-four-seven. So that meant my watch at night and Quillan’s during the day. How was I going to keep an eye on Trey and go to Dagan’s? Yeah, I hadn’t quite figured that one out yet.

I faced my computer screen and clicked on the last of my Captain Slade query replies. Yep, this one was also a rejection. I deleted the e-mail immediately and leaned back in my chair with a heart-felt sigh.

Maybe writing a paranormal book wasn’t such a bad idea? Course, I didn’t want to go through the agony of spilling my heart into something for months only to find that no one else liked it. But Sam was convinced I was a good writer and I needed to believe in myself. And Bram seemed an interesting enough subject to carry a book. Hmm, maybe I’d arrange a little detour after our meeting with Dagan, so we could visit Bram. Then I could see what he thought about the book idea …

I laughed and shook my head. Who was I kidding? A narcissist like Bram would love it. That was the part about the whole thing I didn’t exactly like—the fact that I’d be stroking an ego that was already the size of Nick the ogre. But sometimes you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. And, hey, I still needed to ask Dagan about his Chinese massage parlor thing, so I owed Bram a visit anyway.

But what about Trey? I couldn’t just leave him. Then the figurative light bulb went off over my head. I’d leave him with Bram. That would allow Knight and me to question Dagan. And Quillan would never know any of it. Ah, perfect.

The sound of scratching interrupted my daydreaming. I stood up, cocking my head to the side. The apartment was completely silent. I padded over toward the kitchen in my bare feet when I heard the scratching again. It seemed to come from the kitchen door that led out into the yard. My heart pounded as if wanting to burst from my chest.

Then it dawned on me—the gremlins. I hadn’t fed them yet today. Bad me. My heart stopped freaking out, and I went to the back door, pulling it wide. The gremlins weren’t outside, but their bowls were overturned as if they’d been pawing at them. I reached down and grabbed both bowls and made my way back into the kitchen.

Pulling open the half-full bag of Alpo, I scooped two mug-fulls of the smelly stuff and filled each bowl. How the hell did dogs—or gremlins—eat this stuff? Shaking my head, I poured some hot water over the top of both bowls which made an even fouler smelling gravy. Then I plodded back outside and searched, in vain, for my gremlins. I thought about just leaving the bowls by the kitchen door, but I was paranoid about feeding the “dogs” and being caught by my neighbors. So I slipped into my flip flops and after making sure no neighbors were around, started for the woods.

The cold air hit me like an arresting officer, and I shivered. I bolstered myself against the frigid air and started forward, hoping the little bastards weren’t far. I didn’t have the patience or the interest, really, to chase after them.

Hey, I wasn’t the one who was hungry.

As soon as I hit the shelter of the trees, I shook the food in the metal bowls, hoping the sound would lure them out. Nothing. Wasn’t that the norm when calling a hungry dog? I shook the food again but they didn’t come out. Instead, a few drops of the gelatinous gravy sloshed over the side of one bowl and spilled over my hand. Ugh.

Four more steps, and then I was over it. Let the dumb things go hungry. The sound of something moving behind me stopped me. I dropped both bowls of food, and one landed upside-down on my foot, the gravy sliding between my toes. I pivoted, bracing myself for whatever was behind me.

Nothing.

No sign of the gremlins; no sign of anything. Just the shadows of pine trees against the blue-black of the night. A chilly breeze flowed through the pine boughs and lashed my face, as if trying to pull my attention away from whatever creature was lurking in the woods, waiting for me. The sudden still of the woods practically shouted it—something was stalking me. And I had a feeling that something happened to have fire-red hair.

With a deep breath, I launched myself in the direction of my open kitchen door. No sooner did I take two steps, when I felt myself go airborne, the cold night air freezing as I sailed through it. I smacked against the ground, bouncing once and landing on my back. My abrupt landing knocked the air from my lungs and left me feeling as flat as a Swedish pancake.

Bright flashes burst behind my eyes, pain radiating through the back of my head. I lay there, stunned for a moment, before I realized I had to get up—fast. Whatever had sent me flying was big.

I forced myself to my feet, determined to ignore the dull ache in my head. Another swoosh of air rang out behind me. I spun around toward the trees, seeing nothing but their skeletal outlines. I heard panting, and it was close. The image of Sigourney Weaver with the alien breathing into her ear came to mind and I had to push it away.

If I tried to run, it would kill me. I leaned against the nearest tree and focused on the crude outline of the pines against the dark. I shook my palm until a mound of fairy dust appeared. Blowing the dust, I envisioned a duplicate image of myself. No sooner did the thought leave my mind than a projection of myself stood there—a me hologram.

I nodded toward the projection and thought the word “run.” Watching the clone me take off toward the east side of the apartment, I went west. The clone was maybe one hundred yards to my kitchen door. Hopefully whatever was in the forest had fallen for the bait.

I ran full bore for the kitchen when I heard a sound behind me—something running through a pile of dried twigs. I couldn’t help it—I glanced over my shoulder but saw nothing. Was the damned thing invisible?

“Dulcie!”

I whipped my face forward again, but it was too late. I ran headlong into Quillan. If he hadn’t been bracing himself for the impact, I would’ve doubled us both over.

He wrapped his arms around me. “What happened?”

I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat. “Some … something was in the woods, Quill. It was after me.”

He focused on the woods. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll tell Trey to make you some coffee.”

Coffee?! “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, come on, Dulce.”

He opened the back door, and I wasted no time in taking shelter in my house. I collapsed against the table, watching Quillan shut and lock the door behind him. As if a lock would keep whatever was out there … out.

“What the hell, you don’t believe me?” I insisted.

“I believe you,” he said. “I just didn’t want to make a scene out there. No reason for the neighbors to get concerned.”

Was he freaking serious? “Yeah, no reason for them to get concerned when whatever is out there could eat them!”

Quillan shook his head and took a seat next to me. “We’ve discovered the creature was called from the Netherworld. Whoever called it has complete control over it. It will only go after whoever they tell it to.”

“So someone told it to go after me?”

“Probably so. Well, if that was the creature who killed Fabian.”

So now he even doubted it was the creature? WTF? “What else could it have been?” I scoffed. “And great job your little gremlins did protecting me, by the way.”

Quillan dropped his eyes. “We found them dead right outside your back door.”

I nearly choked. “They weren’t dead five minutes ago. I went out to feed them and thought they were screwing around in the woods. That thing killed them?” I dropped my forehead into the palm of my hand.

“Trey is taking care of them now.”

The sound of the door opening grabbed my attention, and Trey walked in, wiping Hades-only-knew-what on his thighs. And he was sleeping on my couch?

“Hi Dulce, you okay?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” But I wasn’t fine. Far from it.

“Trey, will you put on some coffee?” Quillan asked.

“I don’t want any coffee,” I snapped.

“Okay, nix the coffee,” Quillan said.

Trey took a seat next to both of us. “So what was out there?”

I shook my head. “Quillan doesn’t seem to think it was much of anything even though it killed the gremlins.”

“That’s not true. We haven’t figured out exactly what it is yet, and I don’t want to make any decisions until we do.”

I held my tongue—I really wanted to tell him I knew what it was—that it was a Kragengen shape-shifter, and I knew what it looked like in human form but Knight had sworn me to secrecy and did I really want to go against a big wig from the Netherworld? In short: no.

“Well, maybe I should stay with you both tonight?” Quillan said.

Talk about screwing up my Dagan and Bram plans. “No,” I said too quickly, then smiled as if to make up for it. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Dulce, something killed both gremlins and tried to kill you,” Quillan said like I was a slow kid.

“We don’t know that,” I started, thinking it ridiculous that Quillan and I had basically changed places—me feigning nonchalance and him making a big deal out of it. Irony anyone?

He frowned. “It wasn’t stopping by for a social call.”

I swallowed. There wasn’t any other way. “I have a …” What the hell had Knight said he was? I remember him using the name Todd but that was about it. “I have a … friend coming over to stay with me.”

Quillan’s expression was entirely too curious. “A friend?”

Yeah, Knight had said he was my friend, right? “Um, a friend from before I moved here … named Todd.”

It was Trey’s turn to frown, and his bottom lip puffed out as if to emphasize his confusion. I tried to give him the look of death, but he was too concerned with whether or not Knight was really my friend to notice. Have I mentioned hobgoblins aren’t particularly smart?

“Wasn’t he your cousin?” Einstein asked.

Big goddammit. “No, he’s an old friend.”

Trey shook his head, the pain in the ass. “I thought he said he was your cousin … yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s your cousin.”

“I think I’d know my own cousin,” I snapped. “Anyway, you were completely out of it, Trey, maybe that’s what you thought you heard.” The doorbell chimed, and I bolted from the chair, relieved to break free from the both of them. “That’s probably him now.”

I pulled open the door, and Knight gave me a slow smile.

“Dulce.”

“Hi, Todd,” I said, hoping he’d get the clue that I had company. He straightened and nodded. Thank Hades, someone had some sense.

“You remember Trey?” I said as Knight walked into the house. He smiled at Trey.

Quillan stood at the sight of Knight and lumbered over, extending his hand. “Dulcie tells me you’re old friends. Pleased to meet you, I’m Quillan, her boss.”

Knight didn’t hesitate, but took Quillan’s hand and shook it. Neither one let go. I was just waiting for them to sniff each other’s asses.

“Hiya, Todd,” Trey called from the table. His voice interrupted the handshake, and both men retreated to opposite sides of the kitchen.

“Trey, good to see you feeling better,” Todd, my friendly cousin said.

Quillan faced me, an angry set to his features. “Was Todd here when Trey was … sick?”

I gulped, knowing he’d be pissed that someone he thought wasn’t law enforcement was now privy to information he shouldn’t be. But no use in lying on this count. The cat was already miles away from the bag.

“Um, yeah, he happened to stop by, and he’s good with magic so he helped Sam out a bit.” I cringed. Ergh, I really wasn’t good at this lying stuff.

Quillan held his tongue but I could tell he was pissed by the tightness of his jaw and the fact that his eyes looked as fierce as Drew Barrymore’s in Firestarter.

“Well, I guess I can get going then,” he said in an icy voice, his face a facade of reserve. “Dulce, want to walk me to the door?”

Great, he wanted to yell at me in pseudo privacy. “Sure,” I said sheepishly.

Trey started a conversation with Knight, who took a seat at the table across from him. When Quillan and I reached the front door, he pushed it open and inclined his head toward the front stoop. Apparently, it wasn’t private enough inside.

“Why the hell is your boyfriend here, Dulcie?” he asked when I’d closed the door behind us.

Hades be damned, how many times was someone going to accuse Knight of being my boyfriend? I gritted my teeth. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Your friend, whatever. What’s he doing here?”

“I thought it’d be good to have extra protection.”

Quillan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what the gremlins are for. That’s why Trey is staying with you and that’s why I come by every day after work.”

My personal life was none of his business. “The gremlins are dead, I’m more protecting Trey than he is me and you stopping by after work is all fine and good, but it doesn’t amount to much.”

“Instead of coming to me, you call Mr. Bodybuilder shit-for-brains?”

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s not dumb.”

“He shouldn’t be involved in police business. None of this concerns him.”

If only he knew exactly how involved Knight was and that he’d basically called his boss’s boss a shit-for-brains.

“He doesn’t know anything about it.”

“Other than the fact that Trey was put under by something and now needs to stay with you. That’s more than enough for him to know, Dulcie.” He paused. “You really botched this one up.”

“Is that it?” I asked impatiently, coming close to botching the frown off his face.

He sighed and leaned against the wrought iron railing. “No, I want you to tell him to go home. I can stay with you and Trey.”

“Not gonna happen. Todd’s not staying with me and neither are you. Trey and I are fine. Now, why don’t you go home, and do whatever it was you were planning on doing this evening.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and stared down the length of his nose like I was all of three feet tall. “Is all of this because I kissed you?”

“What?” I shot out. “What does that have to do …”

“I thought things were fine between us, Dulce.”

“Things are fine. Now, before you make yourself sound any stupider, why don’t you be on your way?” I pushed at his lower back, but he didn’t budge.

“Alright, but we need to talk, you and I.”

“Fine. Good. Wonderful. Now go.”

He turned and started for his truck. I walked back inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

“Everything okay?” Knight asked.

“Yeah, fine. Uh, Todd, can I chat with you for a second, please?”

He nodded and Trey stood up.

“I’ll just watch the tube,” Trey said and collapsed into the sofa, grabbing the remote from the valley between the cushions. Then he faced us again. “No mushy stuff when I’m in the same room.”

“We’ll take it into Dulcie’s bedroom,” Knight said and I felt like slapping him. “Lead the way.”

Not having much choice, I headed for my room, Knight on my tail. I closed the door behind us, propping my hands on my hips. “That was totally uncalled for.”

“Have to keep up appearances, right? And by the way, I thought I was your cousin?”

I scowled. “I forgot how you said you knew me.” I shook my head as Knight took a seat on my bed. “None of that matters right now.”

He smiled up at me. “And what does matter, Dulce?”

“Stop flirting with me.”

He chuckled. “Go on.”

“Both the gremlins that were watching me are dead.”

He wore his surprise. “What killed them?”

“I think it was the Kragengen. It came after me when I was in the woods earlier.”

He nodded and was quiet for a second. “Someone ordered it to come after you.”

“That’s what Quillan said.” He pulled his attention to me at the mention of Quillan.

“Did you tell him anything about …”

I shook my head and paced the room. “No, I didn’t tell him anything. He thinks you’re an old boyfriend of mine.”

Knight smiled, nodding. “Okay, good. Dinner and we head to Dagan’s?”

“Yeah, but what about Trey?”

Knight shook his head. “He can’t come with us. Relations Office orders that no one else is to be involved. It’s bad enough Sam got involved.”

“I can’t leave Trey here alone. Not after what the creature did to the gremlins and tried to do to me. He comes with us.”

His lips were tight. “No.”

My lips were tighter. “Yes.”

“I can pull rank on you, Dulce.”

“Don’t call me Dulce. My name is Dulcie and I don’t care what you pull on me. I’m not leaving Trey alone here.”

“Then he can stay in the car.”

Okay, we were getting somewhere. “I have a better idea.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Which is?”

“I have some business with Bram. We go there first, leave Trey with Bram, then go to Dagan’s and question him about the shape-shifter. After Dagan’s, you and Trey can have a drink while I take care of my business with Bram.”

“What’s the nature of this business with the vampire?”

“It’s personal.”

Knight narrowed his eyes. “Are you dating him too?”

“That’s none of your or anybody’s business.”

“Fine.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m staying with you and Trey until all this boils over.”

My mouth dropped open. “To hell you are.”

“You aren’t safe now. The creature has clearly made it known it’s after you. I’m making it my responsibility to see that you’re okay.”

“I don’t have room for you. The couch is taken in case you didn’t notice the hobgoblin in my living room.”

He smiled, long and languid. “Then I guess I’ll be in here with you.”

TWELVE

“So why are we going to Bram’s, Dulce?” Trey asked as he leaned over the driver’s seat and breathed heavily down my neck.

“Are you buckled in?” I asked. “The last thing I want is a ticket for your sorry ass not being buckled.”

Knight chuckled. Trey resumed his position of breathing down my neck—a smell that oddly reminded me of the Alpo I’d been feeding the gremlins.

“Are we going drinking?” Trey started in again. “I haven’t been out partying for a long time ... this is going to be so cool. You know, Dulce, you and me have never been out together.”

More sweltering breath on my neck. I came to a red light and tested the brakes. I glanced back at Trey in the rear view mirror and watched him knock his head against the back of my seat.

“Jeez, watch your driving,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“No, we aren’t going partying. I have some business I need to take care of, and Bram is going to take care of you.”

I caught Trey’s grimace in the rearview mirror. His shoulders sagged, and his bottom lip stuck out like he was about to cry. “I don’t need Bram to babysit me.”

“Yes, you do,” I said. Not wanting a forty-year-old hobgoblin crying in my backseat, I softened my tone. “Just do me a favor, and don’t argue with me. Angela will keep you company. You can stare at her boobs all night.”

Trey started to deny the fact that he was a fan of Angela’s boobs, but at Knight’s chuckle, I guess he thought he’d take the manly way out. A smirk replaced the grimace on his lips.

Trey nodded to Knight. “They’re nice, man.”

“Holy Hades,” I said. “Can we change the subject please?”

The light went green, and I accelerated again. No Regrets was just at the end of the street—the fluorescent sign promising separation from Trey soon enough. And giving the slip to the albatross around my neck was as appealing as a Slurpee on a super hot day.

I threw a wave to Nick as I pulled into the lot behind No Regrets. Putting the Wrangler into park, I faced Trey who was beaming like a kid at the gates to Disneyland.

“Trey, hang out at the bar with either Bram or Angela all night. Make like your ass is stapled to the chair and wait for us to get back, okay?”

He bobbed his head but there was a day-dreamy gaze in his eyes, and I would’ve bet money he’d paid absolutely no attention to me. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. Then he seemed to glom onto the fact that I hadn’t included Knight in the Angela-babysitting-Trey paradigm. “Hey, why does Todd get to go with you?”

Knight gave me a quick discouraging glance, as if I were such a moron I couldn’t remember I’d been sworn to secrecy. “Don’t worry about that,” I said and glared at Knight.

I opened the door and hopped down, my spine tight with anger. Dropping my attention to my jeans and tank top, I sighed as I thought of the horrible getup I’d have to invent for myself prior to going to Dagan’s. I didn’t want to give Trey even the slightest inkling that we were headed to Dagan’s, so I’d have to use my magic to dress Knight and myself up later.

I started forward with Trey and Knight on my heels. Bram met us at the back door, giving me a lascivious smile. This was going to be a long night.

“Sweet, looking lovely as always.”

A snide response buried itself on my tongue when I remembered Bram was doing me a favor.

“Hi, Bram, thanks for watching Trey. I appreciate it.”

Bram didn’t show his surprise at the first friendly words I’d ever said to him. Instead, he inclined his head toward Trey in greeting. His eyes narrowed when they fell on Knight. “And who is this?” he asked with all the pretense of propriety but anyone with half a brain would realize he was less than thrilled to make Knight’s acquaintance. Men of the Netherworld were a macho bunch.

Knight extended his hand. “Todd, an old friend of Dulce’s.”

Bram pasted on a grin that was as fake as a politician’s and shook Knight’s extended hand. Even though his lips were smiling, his eyes held a warning. Knight’s eyes echoed the sentiment.

Bram stepped aside for us as he opened the door. I lingered near Bram as Knight and Trey walked inside. Knight gave me a quizzical look, as though wondering why I wasn’t following them. I ignored him, needing some private time with Bram. “Todd, can you take Trey to the bar? You can put drinks on my tab. Angela’s cool with it. And don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.”

“And where are you going, Sweet?” Bram asked as he pulled the door shut behind him and locked it. The Notorious BIG’s “Hypnotize” launched me into a drunken flashback to college.

“To Dagan’s to talk to him about the creature that killed Fabian,” I paused. “You don’t happen to know anymore about that, do you?” Might as well try.

Bram shook his head, throwing me another smile laced with desire, and the promise of pleasure. I frowned.

He dropped the smile. “I know nothing, Sweet.”

Knight gave me a questioning glance as Trey droned on about how the French judge a perfect breast by using a champagne glass. I breathed a sigh of relief as they disappeared around the corner.

I turned back to Bram. “I’m looking for a woman …”

Bram chuckled. “Aren’t we all, Sweet?”

“Ha ha. She’s tall with long red hair. Ring any bells?”

Bram tapped his slender fingers against his chin, patronizing me. “No tall redheads have come to the club lately that I can think of. I will ask around for you though.”

He smiled again, and I knew something I didn’t want to hear was about to come out of his mouth. “Have you decided to try your own sex, Dulcie Sweet? I would hope you’d give me a chance first?”

I just glared at him. “This is police business, and I can’t tell you any more about it. I want you to call me if anyone matching that description even walks by your club. I’ll give you my cell number.”

Okay, not something I actually wanted Bram to have, but this was important.

He grinned like a little kid on Christmas morning.

I propped my hands on my hips. “You only have permission to call me if you see a woman matching that description. No calling because you’re bored, or want to talk, or you’re horny, got it?”

Bram pursed his lips as if he were offended. I knew better. “And do you have news for me on the Chinese parlor?”

I swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t be angry I’d left it so long. “That’s my first question for Dagan tonight.”

Bram nodded. “Please do not forget.”

“I won’t. It shouldn’t take long. Just make sure you keep a watch out for Trey, okay?”

“Is he mentally lacking? Why all the fuss about him?”

I couldn’t help my laugh. “No, all I can say is that we’re afraid the creature might be after him, so he can’t be left alone.”

“Very well.”

I paused, not sure if I should tell him about my book now or later. “And after I get back from Dagan’s, I … I uh need some private time with you.”

That hadn’t come out right. And I knew it hadn’t come out right by the huge smirk that lit Bram’s face.

“Ah, Dulce, finally you reveal your feelings for me?”

“No,” I snapped. “I just need to talk with you about … something.”

The smile dropped a bit—now it was more of an amused grin.

“I shall wait on pins and needles.”

***

Dagan was dressed in tight red leather pants and nothing else. Well, unless you considered his many tattoos some form of clothing. With his ridiculous pants, he looked like a member of Kiss minus the bad hair and makeup. Now, as he leaned against the chair behind his desk, he eyed me like a starving man handed a Big Mac.

I glanced down at the black rubber dress, fishnets and stiletto heels I’d magicked for myself. I looked more like the fairy hooker, Zara, than I wanted to admit.

“We have some questions for you,” I started, mentally checking off my list the fact that Dagan was still alive and the red-headed shape-shifter hadn’t gotten to him ... yet.

“Go on,” Dagan said, his eyes resting on Knight again for at least the tenth time. Like last time, Knight stood in the corner of the room, directly behind me, looking like an impervious bodyguard … in black jeans and black leather chaps. Okay, he looked more like one of The Village People.

“Do you remember the woman with the duct tape? The tall redhead the night we were here?” I asked, pulling Dagan’s gaze from Knight. His eyes continued to twinkle as they met mine.

Dagan chuckled and dropped his feet from the top of the desk. His toenails were painted black. It reminded me of something a young Goth guy with no friends would do. “Yes, I remember,” he purred.

“Have you seen her here since?” I asked.

Dagan clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, giving me a view of his large chest and the hair that ran down his abs, only to disappear into the line of his Van Halenesque pants. “Did she kill Fabian?” he asked.

“That’s A.N.C. business,” Knight said, his lips tight.

Dagan glanced at him and smiled wolfishly. “If you weren’t such a delight to my eyes, I’d take offense to that.”

As Knight grumbled something unintelligible, Dagan faced me again. “I haven’t seen the woman since that night.”

“Did you get any information from her? Like where she lives or what her name is?” I asked, sounding desperate.

“Yes, her name is Allison and she works at Starbucks, she lost her virginity to a boy named Danny when she was nineteen and chick flicks are her favorite type of movie.”

“That’s about as funny as your pants,” I snapped.

Knight chuckled behind me, and Dagan refused to look at either of us.

“Let’s try this again,” I started. “What do you know about that woman?”

“I avoid questions. Better to get what I want and leave. As far as I was concerned, she was a good lay.”

Holy Hades. Dagan had slept with a creature that had eaten Fabian, Guy and Tad alive.

Dagan smirked. “Don’t look so shocked, Dulcie. You can’t be that innocent.”

“If she comes back here, call me,” I said, then paused. “If I find out she came back here and you didn’t call me, I’m going to be very pissed off. You and I have a good thing here, so don’t screw it up.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Great, now I’d have to give my cell number to a demon. With a sigh, I rattled off the number, feeling like I was giving away my bank account info. So now a demon and a vampire could reach me whenever they pleased. Mental Note: after this case closes, change your number.

“You might want to avoid that woman,” I added. “I’d consider her dangerous.”

Dagan laughed, and it was a sound you might hear someone make before they cut out your heart. “I’m a demon, nothing frightens me.”

I shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I started to get up, but then remembered the other reason I was here. I settled back into my seat. “Dagan, I have one other question for you … just out of curiosity …”

“And what would that be, Dulcie?” He sounded less than amused. I hated hearing my name on his tongue. It made it seem … dirty somehow.

“Word on the street is you’re thinking of buying that old Chinese parlor?” I tried to make it sound off the cuff and uninterested, but I wasn’t a good liar.

His face was expressionless as he shook his head. “Bram is good. You can go back to the bloodsucker, Dulcie, and tell him I have no interest in his damned parlor. Great that he has you doing his dirty work. Now, both of you can leave. I’m a busy man, and you’ve wasted enough of my night.”

I didn’t waste any time in jumping to my feet, just as eager to leave as he was to be rid of us. Well, I had an answer for Bram that would, no doubt, please him greatly. And hopefully, Dagan would play by the rules and call me if the creature resurfaced in his club.

“You think he’s going to call?” Knight asked when we were on our way back to the Wrangler.

“If he knows what’s good for him, he will. He doesn’t want me as his enemy—I’m sure of that. Much better for him if he’s on good terms with the A.N.C.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends?”

“He’s a demon,” I said, unlocking the car. “How ‘friendly’ can you be with one of them?”

Before hopping inside, I shook my hand until I had a mound of fairy dust, then dumped it on myself, imagining a pair of jeans and a tank top.

“What about me?” Knight asked.

I did the same for him, conjuring up a pair of khakis and a black shirt. He settled into the passenger seat as I started the engine and peeled into the street.

“What now?” Knight asked.

“Back to No Regrets. I need you to chill with Trey for a bit while I talk with Bram.”

“If it’s anything about this case, I need to be there.”

“It’s not about the case.”

“Then what is it?”

“None of your business.”

“You tell me that a lot.”

“Maybe you should start listening.”

I pulled into the No Regrets parking lot and turned the car off, facing Knight. “I’ll just be a little while. Maybe thirty minutes.”

Knight nodded and stepped out of the Wrangler, shutting the door behind him. “Thanks for leaving me with Trey, by the way. He’s not exactly thrilling company.”

I laughed and started for the back door. “I’m sure lots of people would say the same about you.”

He glowered as I knocked on the back door. A small, attractive vampire woman opened it and ushered us inside. Walking toward the bar, I found Trey exactly where I knew he’d be—sitting at the bar and slobbering over his straw as he stared at Angela’s boobs.

“Hi, Angela,” I said and took the barstool next to Trey. “How’s it going, Trey?”

He didn’t even turn to face me, but kept staring at Angela as if he was afraid she’d disappear. Course, he was probably used to women disappearing the first chance they got.

“Hi, Dulce, did you and Todd get your business taken care of?” Trey asked Angela’s cleavage.

“Yeah. Angela, could I get a rum and diet, please?” I glanced at Knight. “Todd, what are you drinking?”

“Guinness.”

Angela took one look at Knight and meandered toward us, suddenly interested in our company. She looked him up and down, nothing shy in her gaze. Knight just grinned.

“You here again?” she asked and confused me. Then I remembered Knight had come to Bram’s looking for me before we’d ever met.

“Good to see you,” Knight answered. “Angela, right?”

“Yep,” she smiled. It was the first time I’d ever seen her smile.

“Dulcie, Sweet.”

I’d never been happier to hear Bram’s voice. I turned on him so quickly, I nearly made myself dizzy. Then I jumped to my toes and gave him a big smile. His eyes widened. I guess he wasn’t used to me being anything but surly.

“Bram, can we talk in your office?”

He nodded to Trey and Knight before he led me down the long hallway into an office that had more of a sitting room feel to it. The carpet was thick white, and I had no idea how he kept it so immaculate. Two red velvet armchairs bookended a dark mahogany coffee table. The only business-like thing about the room was the laptop that stood unattended on the coffee table. With the black of the walls and ceiling, the white curtains, and the red chairs, I felt like I was in a newspaper with a nosebleed.

Bram pulled out the plush velvet chair for me as he took the one opposite. “Did you question Dagan about my massage …”

“It’s all yours,” I interrupted. “He said he has no interest in it.”

“Very good news, although I am not convinced I believe him.”

“That’s between you and him.”

He laughed and eyed me curiously. “I am intrigued, Sweet. Tell me why you are here.”

I cleared my throat, not exactly sure where to start or how. “I um, I’m interested in writing a book about you.”

Bram leaned forward, his eyes wide with surprise. “I must say, I was definitely not expecting that! I did not know you fancied yourself a writer.”

I shrugged. “I wrote a … historical novel. When I sent it out, the feedback I got was that paranormals were in demand. Especially about vampires, if you can believe it.”

He leaned back against the red velvet of the chair. With his black hair and light skin, he looked like part of the room’s scenery. “I see. Will this be a biography?”

“No, more a … a romance.”

I swallowed the humiliation that was choking me and wanted to shoot myself for even considering the ridiculous notion in the first place.

He bobbed his head enthusiastically. “A romance? I like that even better.”

“But it will be biographical, too. I bet in your nearly three hundred years, you must’ve seen a lot?”

“Yes, of course.” He paused. “I would be honored to be your muse, Sweet.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Who will be my love interest?”

“I don’t know. That part I can just make up.”

He smiled. “Perhaps a fairy?”

“Oh, Hades,” I grumbled and stood up. “I’ve gotta get going, Bram, but thanks. Can we make some time to get together this week? I’d like to start interviewing you.”

He laughed. “I am available whenever you are.”

I bit my lip. “There’s just one other thing …”

“Anything, Sweet.”

“Would you mind coming to my apartment?” Since I was stuck watching Trey for a while, it would be easier if Bram came to me.

“Of course. Shall I see you tomorrow evening?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Bram.”

Bram opened the door for me. Trey and Knight were in deep conversation with Angela, and the surge of jealousy that warred through me gave me pause. Why the hell did I give even the slightest of craps that Angela was flirting with Trey and Knight? Hmm, better rephrase the question: why did I give even the slightest of craps that Angela was flirting with Knight? It was an answer I didn’t want to know.

“We can go now,” I said. “Angela, what do I owe you for the drinks?”

She glanced at Knight. “Nothing, on the house.”

I just shook my head.

THIRTEEN

Two hours later, Trey was passed out on the couch, and Knight was trying to find something on TV. He surfed the channels, stopping periodically to watch something seemingly intriguing, only to change the station yet again. I’d been working on the intro to my new Bram book, and the background noise was becoming an issue. With a sigh, I focused on my first page and read the opening paragraph again:

Raven was a vampire, and like most vampires, he was tall, dark and handsome with curly locks and caramel eyes. But he was one man you didn’t want to rub the wrong way. With his superhuman strength and bewitching eyes, his wish was my command. And now, as I realized the vampire was about to sink his fangs into my carotid artery, deep inside, I was scared.

Okay, so I was using myself as the narrator and yes, the love interest—so what? It wasn’t like I had the hots for Bram.

I didn’t realize I’d been softly reading out loud until Knight glanced up. He scrutinized me like an old woman squinting at an eye chart. “What are you working on?” he called from the couch.

“Just a … book, that’s all,” I grumbled, not pulling my eyes from the monitor.

“About what?”

Goddammit. I’d brought this on myself—working on it when he was here in the room with me. But even with privacy at a premium, I had to get my writing in somehow.

“I, uh, I’m working on a paranormal book.”

He sat up and dropped the volume of the television to a gentle drone. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”

“I’m really not much of one,” I said, shaking my head.

As I refocused on the page, I glimpsed Knight still watching me. Okay, so he found me more interesting than the TV—that was a compliment. I swiveled around in my chair, so I could face him, and thought maybe a break was just what I needed.

“Is this your first book?” he asked.

“No, I wrote another book and tried to get an agent but no one was interested.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He nodded toward the computer. “What’s this one about?”

I blushed, not entirely sure why I was so embarrassed. A writer shouldn’t be self-conscious about her own work, right? “It’s a paranormal.”

His brows drew together in what appeared to be confusion.

I sighed. “My first book was historical, but I was advised that historicals are out and paranormals are in.”

“You still haven’t said what it’s about.”

I dropped my gaze. “It’s about a vampire.”

Knight’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Was that the business you had with Bram, then?”

Well, if nothing else, he was astute. I bobbed my head, and Knight’s eyes narrowed in what appeared to be resentment. “He hardly warrants a book,” he said. “He’s … unimpressive.”

“Well, that’s your opinion.”

Knight chuckled. “Why write about vampires? Why not something more … unusual?”

“What, like a Loki?” I laughed as Knight shrugged. “One agent told me everyone likes vampire stories.”

“Can’t say I’m a fan, myself.”

I picked up a pen and tapped the tip against my lips. “I can’t say I am either.”

We both fell silent as I debated whether or not to continue working on the book. It was already getting late and I’d lost my inspiration, what little I had anyway. Besides, I had all the time in the world to get it done.

“So if you’re from the Netherworld, why do you sound like you’re American?”

Knight laughed a deep and rumbling sound. A nice sound if I had to judge. “You’ve never been to the Netherworld, I take it?” He leaned back against the tiny section of couch Trey wasn’t occupying and folded his hands behind his head, revealing the great width of his chest. I gulped and feigned interest in the sleeping Trey. Holy Hades, Trey was unsightly, but it was damned easier looking at him than Knight.

Then I remembered Knight had asked me a question. “No. I was born here.”

“Are your parents still here, then?”

I shook my head and dropped my attention to the floor as I thought about my parents, something I hadn’t done in the last six months, at least. “No, my father’s still in the Netherworld … as far as I know.”

“But you’ve never been?”

I picked at a loose thread in my shorts, only managing to weaken the seam. “No. My mother came to California from the Netherworld when she was pregnant with me. I was born in Southern California. I moved to Splendor after Mom died and … some other things happened.”

“Other things?”

I cleared my throat. “A bad relationship.”

“I’m sorry to bring up a painful subject,” Knight said and finally dropped his arms. “And your mother?”

“My mom died a long time ago.” Even now, eight years after my mother's death, the words still rang through me empty and hollow.

“Dulcie, you don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs and glanced up at me, a lock of black hair obscuring his left eye. He pushed it aside, but I couldn’t tear my focus away from it. It was as if that little wavy lock of jet black hair would help me get through the memory of my mother’s untimely demise.

“I haven’t talked about it in a very long time,” I said, amazed by the upwelling of emotions within me. “She was killed by a goblin. That’s why I became a Regulator.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your mother would be proud of you. You’re smart and very perceptive.”

I smiled and thought he sounded like Quillan. And thoughts of Quillan led to thoughts of that one kiss. Suddenly I wondered what kissing Knight would be like. Yeah, we’d kissed in Dagan’s club, but it wasn’t like a real kiss. I glanced at Knight again, at his full, pouting lips which looked like they'd been made for kissing. I sighed, trying to force the thoughts from my mind, as I expelled the air from my lungs.

“So tell me about the Netherworld.”

Knight shrugged. “What would you like to know?”

I felt the stitch in my gut relax. I'd learned long ago when memories became too painful, you just had to shelve them and move on. “First, what’s with the American accent? Last I checked, the Netherworld wasn’t part of the US.”

He chuckled. “Actually, it is.”

“What?” I felt my eyebrows furrow. “I did pretty well in geography, Knight.”

Knight laughed again, and I wondered if he found me attractive, and if he was at all aware of how attractive I found him.

“The Netherworld isn’t a single place, Dulcie. It parallels Earth. It’s just another level to what you already know here.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice sounding a little too caustic.

“Just as there’s a Splendor in California, there’s a Splendor in the Netherworld. Think of it like this—it’s like a cake—you have your cake layer and then a frosting layer. The cake layer is the earth you know—the frosting is the Netherworld. It exists in the same place but on a different level.”

“So you really are from the States?”

“Yes, from the region where your Montana is. In the Netherworld, we don’t call it Montana, though. We call it Crannag.”

I nodded although I found it hard to fathom, the image of Knight as a cowboy from Montana flashing through my head. “Interesting. So is Crannag like Montana, looks wise?”

Knight stood up and lumbered toward me, making my heart palpitate as I felt a rush of adrenaline. What was it about this man that always had me on edge? And better yet, why in hell was he coming so close? I automatically leaned back in my chair to put some space between us.

He extended his hand. “See for yourself.”

I grasped his hand and closed my eyes.

It was like a movie screen dropped before my eyes. I wasn’t in my apartment any longer. Sort of like the same thing that had happened when Knight channeled Trey’s vision of the creature. Only now I wasn’t witnessing the creature eating Fabian … I think I was in Montana.

“That’s Crannag,” Knight said, his voice gentle.

His breath wafted across my cheek like a thousand pixie kisses. I couldn’t help my gasp as a blush feathered over my neck and continued to rise until it stained my face.

“It’s incredible,” I whispered, half remarking on the feel of his breath. Then I refocused my attention to the virtual reality of Crannag. Verdant hills tumbled carelessly around a cornflower blue lake that reflected the azure of the sky. The lake was so clear, the reflection of the hills and sky in the pristine water looked like a mirror.

“Yes,” Knight said.

He squeezed my hand and his hand felt large and overpowering, just like the man. Granted, I considered myself petite, but Knight felt enormous. He must've been at least six-feet-four, if I had to guess. The feel of his hand caressing mine pulled my attention from his height as I swallowed.

This was so not good.

Dropping my defenses was something I'd always hoped to avoid—to avoid the uncontrolled feelings of helplessness; now I felt as if every last one of my defenses was burning up in an incendiary of lust. And Knight was planning on living with me until all this creature business was settled? Holy Hades, I didn’t know if I could make it.

I yanked myself from my longings and reinspected the landscape of Crannag. There weren’t any structures—just a row of large boulders jutting from the top of a hill. The boulders looked like a sculpture but didn’t appear to be man-made. Nothing looked as if it were touched by man, just wild and untainted. My attention shifted to the sky as it was invaded by something black soaring through a cloud, like an arrow piercing the billowy white sails.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You call them dragons.”

I caught my breath and watched the dragon as it soared, its long neck as graceful as a swan’s. But unlike my fairy tale image of a dragon, this one looked more like a giant lizard with bat-like wings. The body didn’t look intimidating by any accounts. Not unless you’re intimidated by a flying newt.

“What do you call them?” I asked.

“Dorneags.”

I nodded, thinking this one of the strangest moments of my life. To think I’d never set foot in the Netherworld, and yet I could see it as clearly as if I were there.

“Do all of them look like that?”

“Yes, and in a variety of colors.”

“Am I seeing this in real time?” I asked, sounding like an Internet nerd.

Knight chuckled. “Yes, you are.”

I shook my head, completely amazed. Okay, so Knight wasn’t magic, but he did have some pretty cool tricks up his sleeve.

“They don’t look like what humans seem to think dragons are.”

“You'll find that most creatures aren’t quite what humans make them out to be.”

The dragon swooped down to the lake and opening its mouth wide, lapped up a gulp of water and then started back up toward the sky, disappearing over the horizon.

“Wow,” I said, incredulously.

Knight dropped my hand, and the vision faded. When I reopened my eyes, all I could see was Trey snoring on my couch. My hand felt cold, and I put it in my pocket, hoping to warm it up again. I brought my attention back to Knight, who was watching me with a curious expression—one I couldn’t read.

“That was amazing,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable under his rigid stare.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to me. “You’d like the Netherworld.”

I nodded. “Maybe. How were you able to show me that and Trey’s vision?”

Knight shrugged. “One of my Loki abilities.”

My eyes narrowed. “You never told me you could do that.”

He laughed, and his knee bumped against mine, the touch bolting up my leg and into my angst-filled gut.

“You never asked.”

I shook my head, feeling so out of sorts, I couldn’t even think of a retort. All I knew was that I most definitely had asked him what his abilities were. He’d just chosen not to tell me.

“So about living in Crannag ...”

“What would you like to know?”

“Are you married?” I blurted and snapped my mouth shut as quickly as an angler fish. I’m not sure why Knight’s marital status was the first mystery I needed to solve, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I was mortified. “I mean, if they have that sort of thing in the Netherworld …”

Knight chuckled. “Yes, we have similar unions.” He held up his hand as if to point to the fact that he didn’t wear a ring. “No, I’m not married.”

Knock knock; where the hell had the strong, determined and unromantic Dulcie gone?

“And before you ask, no, I don’t have a … girlfriend either.”

Holy Hades, this was getting more embarrassing by the second. And yes, Knight having a girlfriend had definitely crossed my mind. “I wasn’t thinking that,” I said, trying to save any sort of face. Well, at this point, I’d be happy just to save an eye, a nose or a mouth.

“I’m getting a little tired,” Knight said and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn, as if to prove it.

“You really don’t need to stay here. Trey and I will be fine,” I said, forcing my attention away from Knight to the top of my cluttered desk. I started rattling papers and sorting through them as if I were a cleaning lady on an impatience potion.

“Not up for argument.”

I stood up and tried to shake the annoyance that took hold of me even though, secretly, I was thrilled to have it back ... I knew the old Dulcie couldn’t have been far. Ha, take that Knight and your perfect chest!

And as for an argument? Well, there was no use in debating—he was basically the boss of my boss. And that meant he was sleeping in my apartment. I stood up and shuffled to the linen closet in my dog slippers. Pulling out a sleeping bag, I tossed it to Knight. He caught it with a smile and headed for my bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, hands on my hips.

Knight jerked his thumb at Trey. “I can’t sleep out here with him making that racket.”

The hobgoblin was now flat on his back, his face aimed at the ceiling with his mouth gaping wide. What sounded like a lawnmower thundered from his throat as a clear line of drool coursed down his cheek and pooled onto the cushion. Maybe it was time for a new couch.

Knight took a few more steps toward my bedroom and then faced me. “Are you coming?”

“No, I want to get more writing done. I’ll be in later. There’s an extra pillow on my bed.”

“Great,” Knight said and with a wink, disappeared into my bedroom.

I stifled a yawn and returned to my desk, turning up the volume of the TV to drown out Trey’s incessant snoring which sounded like a train derailing in my living room.

Rereading my opening paragraph for the nth time, I reached the conclusion I couldn’t write anymore tonight. I yawned again, accepting the fact that I was tired. Not wanting to find Knight awake, I sat Indian style on the floor and flipped through the channels, hoping I could find something to occupy my thoughts for the next half hour or so. How long did it normally take someone to fall asleep? Well, since Knight was on the floor, it might take him a while.

I sighed and settled in for a cooking show where some cheery woman was making brownies covered in frosting and chocolate chips. I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but I could handle it for another half hour or so.

A choking followed by spluttering sounded from Trey, and that’s when I decided I was going to bed. I turned the TV off and started for my bedroom. Turning the light off in the living room, I was surrounded by darkness, and it took my eyes a second to go into night mode. When they did, I opened my bedroom door and had to quash my temper as I realized Knight was underneath my covers, in my bed. And the sleeping bag? It was laid out on the floor with one of my pillows above it.

The bastard!

There was no way in hell I was sleeping on the floor. I closed the door behind me and stormed up to Knight, hurling the covers off him. I was greeted with a long expanse of tan back and equally naked rear end! Shocked and mortified again, I threw the covers back over him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

No response. I poked him in his incredibly tight bicep and still, no response.

“Wake up, damn you.”

I shook him. Nothing.

Well, I wasn’t going to sleep on the floor. I leaned against him and tried to push him out of the bed, but I might as well have been pushing a bus. He wasn’t going anywhere. So now I had to decide—the floor or I could sleep next to Knight. I had a queen sized bed, and I was small enough that I could curl up on my side and avoid his nudity …

I wasn’t sleeping on the floor.

My mind made up, I grabbed my pajamas and changed in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and hair before marching back out. I was careful to keep the covers tucked around Knight so I wouldn’t get another flash of his tight ass.

“You’re getting an earful tomorrow, you smug jerk.”

I climbed in beside him and stayed as close to the edge of the bed as I could and shut my eyes. No sooner did my eyelashes touch my cheeks than Knight rolled over with a soft snore and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against him.

I thought my heart would stop. I pushed him away furiously and catapulted myself from the bed. Then I crawled into the sleeping bag on the floor.

I tossed and turned a few times, then closed my eyes and hoped Morpheus would take me to the land of slumber soon enough.

***

Jack was in my bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice sounding just as raw as it had when he’d dumped me a year ago.

He sat on the corner of the bed and gave me a licentious smile, making my stomach clench. I glanced down at myself and realized I was naked under my bed covers. Pulling the sheet up to my chin, I continued glaring at him.

“Dulcie, don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, I know you have,” he said.

I had missed him. I couldn’t deny it.

“Is that why you haven’t dated anyone else?” he continued.

I shook my head. “I haven’t dated anyone because you gave me some real trust issues, asshole. It has nothing to do with missing you.”

He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. I wanted to pull it away but I couldn’t seem to summon up the will.

“Stand up and let me see you,” he whispered.

I stood up in spite of myself, it was as if I’d swallowed a control potion and he was now calling the shots. The duvet dropped away from me, even though I still held it. Jack stood up and approached me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. He stood so close, I could feel the heat of his breath on my forehead.

“I don’t want to do this,” I muttered, even as my traitorous body sung while he ran his hands down my breasts.

“He’s your past, Dulcie.” It was Knight.

I closed my eyes against the embarrassment that not only was Jack witnessing me naked but now Knight was too. When I opened them, Jack was still watching me through those beautiful dark brown eyes I’d loved so much. Knight stood behind him, his expression stoic.

“Tell him he’s your past,” Knight demanded.

I glanced at Jack again and he dropped his head, capturing my lips. My eyelashes fluttered down until they graced the tops of my cheeks.

“Dulcie, let him go.”

I opened my eyes but didn’t stop kissing Jack. Knight grabbed Jack’s shoulder and tore him away from me. I glanced at Jack who didn’t even react—he just watched me.

“Tell him he’s your past. Let him go.”

It was like slow motion as I faced Knight again. He ran his fingers down one side of my face and bent my head as he trailed steaming hot kisses down the length of my neck.

“Say it,” he demanded again.

I focused on Jack who was standing there like the last kid picked in PE. Anger and pain warred within my stomach as I forced myself to gaze at the man who’d so royally screwed me up.

“You’re my past,” I said in a breathless voice.

Knight chuckled and ran his fingers down my neck, past my collarbone until he found one of my breasts. He took it in his mouth as I watched Jack begin to fade, as if he were a ghost.

“Again,” Knight demanded.

But I didn’t want to focus on Jack. I wanted to focus on how amazing Knight’s mouth felt on my breast. He pulled away and glanced up at me.

“Again,” he growled.

I faced Jack. “I’m letting you go.”

Jack faded even more, until he was nothing but a fleck of whitish steam.

I gasped when I felt Knight’s fingers between my thighs.

“Once more until he’s gone.”

I faced what was left of Jack and the words barely made it out of my mouth. “You’re my past and I’m letting you go.”

The steam disappeared and I woke up in a sleeping bag on my floor. I drew in my breath as I realized my own hand was pressed hard against my inner thighs. I quickly pulled it away and sat up, dazed.

Knight was an unmoving mound on my bed.

How freaking embarrassing that I’d been fondling myself with him in the same room! Humiliation heated my cheeks and increased tenfold as I wondered if Knight had involved himself in the dream—the same way he’d interrupted my pirate repose. Well, it wasn’t like I was about to question him about it.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, praying the rest of my dreams would be rated PG.

FOURTEEN

Knight had been gone all day. Where, I had no idea, but after the first five hours of the day dragged on, my irritation with him sleeping naked in my bed had fizzled like a one hit wonder. Images of Knight licking my breast kept visiting me and it was all I could do to push them to the dark recesses of my mind. It was just too mortifying to even consider that maybe Knight had witnessed the incriminating dream. One thing that was clear, at least to my subconscious mind, was that I needed to get over my emotional baggage from Jack. If the dream wasn’t a wakeup call, I didn’t know what was.

Now, I was alone. And I reveled in every glorious minute of my solitude. Trey was still at Headquarters for another hour or two, and Bram was coming over as soon as the sun set.

I'd spent all day working on my Bram book and was now up to chapter seven. Even though I hadn't had a chance to interview Bram, I figured I could pepper the book with his stories later on. For now, I just wanted to get the bare bones finished.

Two strong knocks on the front door broke my concentration. I closed my file before approaching the door, palming the Op 6 at my side.

“Who is it?” I demanded, hoping it could only be the best looking man I'd seen in Splendor who also happened to be the most frustrating.

“Knight.”

Ding ding, I won.

My hand hovered over the lock while a grin spread across my face.

“I'm sorry, I didn't hear you,” I glanced through the peephole to find Knight laden with grocery bags. His brows pasted together in annoyance. Time to get him back for pulling the naked in my bed stunt.

“Dulcie, my arms are full, and I don't have the patience to play games with you,” he snapped. “Open the door.”

My grin broadened. Retribution is a beautiful thing. “Didn't you read the sign that says 'no solicitors'?” I eyed the peephole again, relishing every minute of his discomfort. The words: “don't get mad; get even” echoed through my head and inspired another grin on my lips.

Knight's sigh was long and loud enough to get through the door. “I'm giving you to the count of three, and then I'm taking the door down.”

Hmm, apparently he was impatient and short-tempered.

“One.”

He wouldn’t dare.

I crossed my arms against my chest and continued watching him through the tiny hole in the door. His face was flushed red and dripping with irritation.

“Two.”

Okay, maybe he would dare. He put the bags on the ground while I clutched the doorknob.

“Three.”

I yanked the door open before he could do any permanent damage. “Knight, why didn't you say it was you?” I asked with a beaming smile.

Knight frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Very funny.”

Then he dropped his gaze to the paper bags sitting on the ground beside him. “You wanna give me a hand with these?”

Making no motion to assist him, I glanced into one of the paper bags and noticed Captain Crunch cereal, a bag of apples and a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup.

“Groceries?” I asked, as if the idea that he'd gone to the store was completely foreign.

He grabbed four bags and carried them inside while the other two sat there idly, seemingly upset at having been left alone.

“You have no food in this place. And I'm a hungry man.”

I shook my head. Knight going grocery shopping was one subject I'd never considered. I finally bent down and gathered the remaining bags into my arms, closing the door behind me with a kick of my heel. Watching him stroll through the living room, I tried to judge whether or not it seemed like he had any inkling about my dream. It didn’t seem as though he did.

“Well, I don't cook,” I said, retiring the bags on the kitchen counter. Knight was already unloading the ones he'd brought in. I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him. Hey, he bought them, let him unload them.

Knight faced me with a broad smile. “You don't do anything domestic.”

“Just because I'm a woman ...”

“Dulcie, I didn't mean it like that. It's just an observation. I like your modern Wonder Woman sensibilities.”

Wonder Woman? What?

I shook my head and watched him pull open the vegetable bin of the refrigerator. He fished out a bag of rotten onions, holding just the tip of the plastic bag as if afraid the onion would crawl out and rub itself against his hand.

Casting me a look of disdain, he dropped them into the trashcan. “Any other surprises in here?”

“I guess you'll find out soon enough,” I answered in a saccharin tone.

Knight chuckled and filled the vegetable bin with bags of carrots, onions and potatoes. Shaking his head, he turned his baby blues on me. “You take things way too seriously, Dulcie, you need to lighten up.”

My lingering smile vanished. Who in Hades did he think he was? “I don't take things too seriously,” I started but was interrupted by Knight's sarcastic expression. “I mean, I wouldn't describe myself as easy going ...”

“By any stretch of the imagination.”

“Hey, what is this? Bash Dulcie day?” I knew I could be ... tough ... at times, but that's the type of personality a Regulator needed. What did he expect me to be? Some weakling who cried at the drop of a hat? Like Trey?

“See, taking me too seriously again.”

I muttered something unintelligible even to my own ears before changing the subject. “So where were you all day?”

He held up a box of Hungry Jack pancake mix. “Isn't it obvious?”

“Going to the store takes maybe an hour or two at most. You've been gone all day, smart ass.”

Hoisting a twenty-bottle pack of water, he placed it atop the counter and tore through the plastic, tossing a bottle to me as he grabbed another for himself. “Been keeping tabs on me, have you?”

Why weren’t conversations with Knight ever easy? “No ... well, yes, I just wanted to tell you I didn't appreciate your little stunt last night.”

Knight leaned against the counter and crossed his arms against his massive chest. “There was plenty of room on the bed. You seemed to fit alright.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you were awake even though you pretended to be asleep?”

He chuckled and grabbed the chair next to me and straddled it.

I took the cap off my bottle of water and sipped it, hoping it would give me time to come up with a good response. “Well, I'm not sleeping on the floor again.” Apparently, it wasn't time enough.

He nodded. “That's fine.”

“And you're not sleeping in my bed again.”

He stood up and started collecting the clutter of paper bags littering my floor. When he faced me with raised brows, I pointed to the cupboard next to the stove, and he packed the bags in, closing the cupboard door behind him.

“I can't sleep on the floor,” he said. “I have a bad back.”

“Well, you should've thought about that before pulling your little naked stunt last night.”

“Fine, I'll wear boxers.” Knight chuckled. “Do we have a deal?”

I was just waiting for him to bring up the dream but he never did. Thank Hades. “Fine.” I cleared my throat, not at all okay with the image of Knight's tight ass in boxers. “And about where you were for the rest of the day today ...”

“Confidential.”

“You're impossible,” I snapped and stood up from the kitchen chair so fast, I banged my naked ankle against the wooden leg. I yearned to grab it and hop around the kitchen in pain, since that’s the only thing that seems to help. Instead, I just bit my lip and threw myself into the desk chair and reopened my word document.

I decided to ignore Knight for the rest of the evening.

The sound of the door opening startled me to attention, and I turned to observe Trey striding in, acting like he owned the place. “Hey, Dulce, whatcha doin?”

“Nothing,” I grumbled.

Trey dropped his man-bag at the foot of the couch and started for the kitchen, his first pit stop whenever he returned from work. He ran headlong into Knight who kept him at arm's length.

“Hiya, Todd.”

“Hi, Trey, how's it going?”

“Good. You guys eat dinner yet?”

I didn't bother responding but glanced back at the door, waiting to see if Quillan had followed Trey. After a few seconds, it looked like he hadn’t. So because of the Knight-staying-with-me thing, he was avoiding me. Just great.

“I went to the store so help yourself,” Knight said as he headed into the living room.

Trey nodded. “Word.”

I sighed and returned to my computer while Trey rifled through the cabinets, apparently hell-bent on finding something to contribute to his weight problem.

“What's the plan for tonight?” Trey asked, while opening the box of Captain Crunch. He shoved his hand into it, throwing a handful of nuggets into his mouth. Note to self: avoid Captain Crunch. I glanced at Knight, who'd collapsed into the sofa and resumed his channel surfing.

“You guys are on your own,” I said. “Bram's coming over.”

Knight dropped his feet from the coffee table, and the sound of his boots hitting the floor was like a bowling ball falling from two stories up.

“I don't want to hear it,” I started. “You can go ...” I glanced at Trey, who was riveted on the Captain Crunch box, reading the comics and snorting with laughter. “You can go ... drive around and ... look for a certain red-haired something.” I hoped Knight got my gist.

“No point,” he started, also glancing at Trey, who was still giggling at the box. “That certain something will have to make itself known. No use in me driving all over hell and back.”

Trey carried the box of cereal into the living room, trailed by a blizzard of Captain Crunch and plopped onto the couch next to Knight, popping open a can of 7-Up. “Is Bram coming to babysit me?”

I shook my head and frowned, knowing Trey had no intention of cleaning up after himself. “No, he's coming to see me.”

“Why's that?” Trey’s cheeks filled with effervescence from the 7-Up which swelled his lips until he looked like a bloated toad mid burp.

“She's writing a book about vampires,” Knight finished for me, in a crass tone.

“Oh, cool,” Trey said with a nod. “There's a comic book I really like about vampires and werewolves, and they fight each other. Kind of like Alien Versus Predator. You ever seen that movie, Todd?”

“No,” Knight answered.

“What about you, Dulce, you ever seen Alien Versus Predator?”

A knock sounding from the front door saved me from the need to respond, and I stood up, sending Knight a threatening scowl—warning him not to act anything but friendly to my vampire guest.

I pulled open the door and found Bram on my doorstep, a single, long-stem rose clutched in his hand. He eyed me from head to toe, and I felt like I was wearing a negligee under his lustful gaze.

“Sweet, wonderful to see you,” he said and the accented words dripped English. Bram hadn't lived in England in at least one hundred fifty years (according to his A.N.C. bio), so I imagined the accent was put on—it wouldn't have lasted so long otherwise. Maybe he thought it enhanced his vampire persona. He definitely wouldn't be as intimidating or sexy if he talked like Trey.

He handed me the rose, and I took it with a frozen smile. “Hi, Bram,” I said and stepped aside. He casually strolled in, but his grin dissolved when he noticed Trey and Knight on the couch. What, had he thought this was a date?

“Gentlemen,” he said and gave them a slight inclination of his head in greeting.

“Hi, Bram, how's it goin'?” Trey asked, never pulling his eyes from the TV where Pamela Anderson strutted her red-bathing-suited self in a tired rerun of Baywatch.

Knight glared at Bram as his gaze traveled to the rose in my hand. His mouth was tight. “Hi,” he said flatly.

I kicked the door shut and started for the kitchen, pulling out a chair for Bram. He took it with a smile and clapped his hands together like an excited kid. “How shall we proceed?” he asked and his eyes glinted with mischief, as if he were asking what position he should assume. Naked.

“Well, I thought I could ask you some questions, and then if you don't mind, I was going to record our conversation with this,” I said and held up my black audio recorder.

The TV volume blared into the kitchen. Gritting my teeth, I craned my neck to see Knight holding the channel changer, a frown of what appeared to be annoyance marring his otherwise perfect face. Anger burned inside me as I turned to apologize to Bram, but he just smirked.

“Perhaps we are being a distraction, Sweet,” he said and eyed me knowingly. “Shall we retire to your bedroom?”

My eyes found Knight's, and he immediately muted the sound on the television. “No need, you can stay out here,” he grumbled. Hmm, was someone jealous?

Pulling out my notebook, I grabbed a pen and faced Bram. “Ready?”

He nodded and I pressed record, setting the palm-sized machine in between the two of us.

“Okay, please tell me where you were born and what year.”

“I was born in 1709 in London.”

I ticked off the first question on the pad of paper with a red “x.” “Were you from a well-to-do family?”

He smiled. “Yes, Sweet, very well to do. My father was a prominent Tory and very respected.”

“When were you turned into a vampire?”

“On my twentieth birthday, my dearest friend introduced me to a harlot named Meg.”

Wait a second. “You're twenty?” I asked incredulously.

Bram chuckled. “No, Sweet, I’m soon to celebrate my three hundredth year.”

“I meant, you were twenty when you were turned?” He nodded as I shook my head. “You just look much older than that ...”

He laughed again. “Times were different then, Sweet ... nutrition wasn't what it is today, and London was ... not what it is today.”

I glanced up and found Trey lumbering toward us. He took a seat next to Bram and put his elbows on the table so they could cradle his enormous head. “Wow, twenty?” Trey asked, suddenly finding Bram more interesting than Pamela Anderson.

Bram arched a brow in my direction. “Next question, Sweet.”

I glanced at Knight, who was also studying us. As soon as he caught my attention, he pretended to be absorbed in whatever show he hadn't been watching.

“Can you tell me what happened when you were changed?” I asked.

“Meg happened to be a vampire, and while I was taking full advantage of her body ...” He eyed me up and down, and I just shook my head, “she was lapping up my blood. Before I could realize what was happening, I was nearly drained. When I saw what she was, I made the decision not to go down without a fight. Weak as I felt, I managed to unsheathe a dagger I kept on my person, and I slit her wrist.”

Trey's head nearly fell out of his hands. “Holy goblin’s nuts. Did you kill her?”

Bram shook his head. “No, but I forced her wrist into my mouth and sealed my own destiny. Looking back on it, I did not force her to do anything—she was much stronger than I. She knew what she was doing.”

Hmm, this Meg character sounded interesting. Interesting enough to be the heroine of my book? “This woman ...” I started. “What became of her?”

“She disappeared. I had heard she had been killed by another vampire, but I do not know for certain.”

“So you wouldn't be able to answer particulars about her?”

He shook his head and frowned. “I thought your book was about me, Sweet?”

I nodded. “It is, but I thought she sounded interesting as a ... heroine.”

Bram slowly smiled. “I prefer the idea of the fairy love interest.”

A definite scoff came from Knight's direction, but I ignored it. “I never said there was going to be a fairy in it,” I grumbled but ticked off the last question on my sheet.

Then I eyed the question I’d always wanted to ask Bram. “Okay, about your name,” I started.

Bram sighed. “I was born long before the author of Dracula was even a thought,” he said, sounding very put out. “For all I know, Mr. Stoker was named for me.”

I laughed, thinking Bram’s narcissism knew no bounds. “Well, that puts the lid on a mystery I’d wondered about since I met you.”

The phone rang, and Trey grabbed it. Holy Hades, it was like he was my permanent roommate or something.

He handed the phone to me.

Before I could say hello, Dagan's voice interrupted me. “Gotta a little red filly here I think you want to meet.”

Before I could reply, he hung up.

FIFTEEN

After promising Bram a favor, which I really didn't want to do, he agreed to stay with Trey as Knight and I headed for Dagan's. Trey probably would've been fine on his own, considering the creature was at Dagan's, but it's always better to be prepared, and who knew if whoever was controlling the creature might still be after Trey.

“Dulcie, whatever happens tonight, you need to go with it,” Knight said in a hard voice.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, being careful not to pull my attention from the road. Driving and arguing were not a good mix.

He shrugged and strained against the leather vest I'd created for him. I was sporting a red vinyl bodysuit that was confining as all hell. This costume stuff was really getting tiring.

“It just means that last time we went to Dagan's, you weren't a good actress. Put on a better show this time.”

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “So what, if you try to have sex with me, I'm just supposed to let you?”

Knight chuckled. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You're impossible.”

The smirk dropped off his lips and imagining some serious topic was about to rear its unwanted head, I returned my attention to the red light before me.

“Just follow my lead,” he said. “You know I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, but you need to trust me.”

I couldn't remember the last time I'd trusted anyone. Maybe Sam, but that was about it.

I sighed, long and hard.

“It's an order, Dulcie, let me handle this.”

I inhaled deeply. One, breathe out. Two, breathe in. Three … I so missed Quillan's mode of management. Knight was more a dictator than a boss.

I pulled into Payne's parking lot and turned off the car, refusing to even glance at Knight. I opened the door and dropped to my feet. My five inch hooker heels clicked against the asphalt, sounding like someone chewing gum with a broken jaw.

Knight grabbed my arms and made me face him. I couldn't help the gasp that lodged in my throat. I forced my eyes to hold his which were roiling with excitement. So Knight enjoyed his work? I guess the same could be said for me. Though, I wasn't exactly climaxing to have to share the spotlight with him.

“Trust me, Dulcie, I don't want to see you hurt.”

I just nodded, repressing the urge to battle him. His hands lingered on my arms a bit longer than necessary before I shrugged out of his embrace and started for the back door. Who the hell did he think he was? I could take care of myself.

I buzzed the speaker box.

“He's in room one,” the voice announced, and the door opened.

Knight grabbed my hand and stepped in front of me, guiding me down the dark hallway. I swallowed a protest and steeled myself for the fact that I'd be taking orders tonight. Even if Knight was my boss's boss, I couldn't say it softened the fact.

Knight dropped my hand and weaved through the intricate passageways of Payne like he had a demon-locating compass. When we reached the first door, Knight hesitated, his hand clenching the doorknob. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

I nodded, and he opened the door. It was darker inside the room than it was in the hallway, and the smell of smoke trailed through the air, splashed by the scent of vanilla candle.

A moan interrupted the quiet, and Knight closed the door behind us.

“Ah, our guests have arrived,” Dagan said, his voice coming from the farthest corner of the room.

There was a soft swoosh, and a flame appeared, brilliant in the dark. The orb of light cast shadows across Dagan’s face, causing his usual scary looks to appear all the more menacing. With an eerie grin, he held the candle high.

“Dulcie, how good of you to come.” He glanced at Knight. “And I see you've brought your bodyguard.”

I inhaled, reminding myself I needed to be a good actress. “Dagan, sorry we're late.”

He rested the candle in a silver holder and held a match up to it, the match igniting as soon as it kissed the flame. He brought the burning match to a candelabra, and lit the four remaining candles. Walking the candelabra closer to us, like a butler escorting us through a haunted house, he set it on a shelf next to me. It lit the entire room in a yellow glow that danced against the walls, like a myriad of undulating ghosts.

My eyes fell past Dagan and landed on the creature that lay sprawled against a velvet covered sofa, the candle wax cooling and hardening on her torso. She was completely naked except for a pair of high heels. Wiggling against the sofa, she acted as though the wax were tickling rather than burning her. Sensing my attention, she glanced up and smiled at me. Then she stood, and her exaggerated heels made her as tall as Knight.

The green-eyed monster known as Jealousy sunk its fangs into my otherwise sensible constitution, and I wanted to kick myself. She was beautiful. Her breasts were heavy and her waist tiny, flaring into broad hips with long, graceful legs. She looked like she'd just walked off a Victoria's Secret catwalk. I had to remind myself she'd eaten Fabian, Guy and Tad without a second thought.

Only inches from me, she paused and ran a long fingernail against my cheek as I shuddered internally. “You've brought the beautiful fairy for me to play with,” she whispered to Dagan.

He just laughed, the bastard. The creature turned from me and let her gaze run down Knight's incredible body.

“Your lady is very,” she glanced at me again, “sexy.”

Knight's voice was low and controlled. “I know.”

“Will you share her?” the creature asked, like I was a bag of M&Ms.

My eyes immediately found Knight's, and in their steel depths, they promised protection. I had to trust him. Much as I didn't want to, I had to.

“Will Dagan share you?” he asked, and my heart deflated as if it'd been stuck with a needle.

He's acting, Dulcie! I reprimanded myself. It's all an act, you moron!

The woman laughed a high and harmonious sound. My hands fisted. The incredible desire to arrest her right there nearly defeated my more sensible inclinations. If we were to arrest her, it would destroy any chance we had of finding her keeper. Whoever had called her from the Netherworld still owned her. Even if that meant death, she wouldn't reveal who her master was anytime soon. We'd have to do it the old-fashioned way and follow her. Which meant I was probably going to be here for a very long time.

So exactly how much acting would I need to do? And how far would it go? If this creature intended to bed one or both of us, could I go through with it? Could Knight? How much did I want to apprehend her master?

Dagan came up behind her. “Shall we give them a show?” he asked with a sibilant hiss.

She nodded, a slow, mysterious smile spreading over her face. I almost gasped when I felt Knight take my arm and pull me into the hard length of his chest. He grabbed my hair and shifted it over one side of my neck, his finger accidentally grazing my breast. My heart caught in my throat, and I swallowed hard. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against him, as if to remind me that I wasn't in this alone, that he was there with me.

Dagan pushed the creature back onto the sofa. With a leer, he turned to the corner of the room, opening what looked like a cupboard. Inside were paddles, whips, chains and other things I couldn't begin to categorize.

My heart started up again.

He approached her with a long piece of chain with clamps at both ends. The creature's breath caught, as she arched her back in excitement. Dagan ran the chain across her throat and over each of her breasts as she moaned. Then he pinched her nipples until they stood at attention. With a low chuckle, he clamped them.

Dagan eyed me over his shoulder and smiled. It was then that I realized he'd saved all of this for me. He could've easily done what he'd wanted with her and then called us. But no, he wanted me to suffer through it. He was probably enjoying my misery more than anything else. The fiery breath of anger cascaded over my skin, but I refused to grant it power.

Damn Dagan to Hades.

He jerked on the clamp chain, and the creature stumbled to her feet. Then he walked her to the cabinet and pulled out a paddle. He ran the paddle down her stomach. Grabbing her hair roughly, he yanked her head back and ran his tongue down her neck. With a vicious shove, he pushed her over the sofa, forcing her head into the pillows.

Then he turned to face me, and I wished he'd just finish his show. The creature moaned out as if to say she agreed with me.

“Shut up,” Dagan growled, and a tremor of fear wound itself in my gut. His eyes were on me.

I leaned up against Knight, but I was already so close to him, I couldn't possibly get any closer. Dagan dropped the paddle on the sofa next to the creature and turned toward me. His eyes burned with delight.

“Dulcie, Dulcie,” he whispered and caressed my jaw line with his finger, leaving my skin stinging in his wake. Knight grabbed my waist and tightened his grip as if to remind me I needed to trust him and more so, that I better not blow our cover.

Dagan only stopped advancing when his nose was millimeters from mine. His lower body pressed into me like we were Siamese twins. He brought both hands to my shoulders and never took his eyes from mine as he reached for my breasts. He plied them with his fingertips as I gritted my teeth to keep from throwing him off me.

He chuckled and brought one hand lower still, trailing from one side of my stomach to the other like a driver on a winding road. When it looked like he was going to push his fingers between my thighs, Knight's hand blocked his before I had the chance.

Dagan dropped his hand with a grin and returned to the creature who was impatiently awaiting him. He grabbed the paddle and whacked her four times. When he pulled the paddle away, her ass bore the red marks, but she was sighing as if he were pampering her, not beating her.

Bile filled my throat. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. But it appeared the night was young. There still hadn't been any sex. Hades be damned.

“Blood,” the woman muttered and grabbed my attention.

Dagan smacked her with the paddle again, then dropped it on the sofa beside her and grabbed her hair, jerking her up. She turned to face him, and he crushed his mouth against hers. I dropped my eyes, wishing this night would end.

“Blood,” the creature said again.

Dagan returned to the prop closet and produced a small dagger. At the sight of the weapon, I bucked. Knight held me against him until I felt like I was stuck in dried cement.

Dagan walked back to the creature and held the weapon just above her collar bone. With a slow sweep, he cut a straight line through her skin. The woman cried out in ecstasy as her blood poured from the wound, trailing down over her breasts to her stomach.

Knight shifted me to the side and approached them, his eyes riveted on the blood trailing down her body. Before I could even guess his intentions, he ran his hand through the red liquid.

My stomach churned. What the hell was he doing? I shivered in spite of myself and wondered if she had somehow bewitched him? But no, I would've felt her magic had she tried. Maybe Knight liked the sight of blood? It wasn't like I knew that much about him. Maybe he was as psychotic as they were.

The creature grabbed Knight's hand and held it to her breast, encouraging him to continue rubbing her. But he pulled away from her, the strangest of expressions on his face—like he'd been caught rubbing the blood of a brutal killer all over her breasts.

His eyes settled on mine, and he strode across the room, looking like a plundering Titan. I plastered myself against the wall, fighting the incredible need to vacate the room. Then it occurred to me, what if Knight was working with the creature?

Maybe Dagan was in on it too? If so, I was as good as dead. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. My heart hammered in my chest until the creature’s moans were drowned out by the blood throbbing in my ears.

I'd been such a fool, keeping all of this from Quillan, trusting Knight as blindly as a mole. And his A.N.C. ID? That had been real—there was no way it’d been a fake. So Knight had the A.N.C. office tricked just as easily as he’d duped me. I guess we’d all fallen for his charismatic charm.

I shrunk against the wall. Knight's face was one of a statue, his eyes emotionless. Hades be damned, he was the creature's master, he had to be! It had been right under my nose all along and I'd been too distracted to see it.

With his clean hand, he pulled me against him. I shoved him aside, wanting nothing more than to let him know I'd figured out his little plan. But if I did that, I might not be leaving this room—alive anyway.

Knight resumed his place against the wall and positioned me in front of him. I'm sure he was getting miles out of forcing me to watch his little pet play with Dagan and after that, he'd probably order her to eat me. For now, I’d just play along. But when the opportunity arose, I'd be ready for them. I knew I could take the creature; my magic was strong enough. But Dagan and Knight?

I'd definitely be out-numbered and my magic out-powered.

“I need to taste you,” the woman moaned to Dagan.

Before I could comprehend what the hell that meant, he grabbed the knife and handed it to her. She grasped it in her bloody hand and ripped a line across his muscular chest. Blood spurted out angrily, erupting into a volcano of red. She thrust her face into him, sucking and licking at the gash with uninhibited abandon.

That's when I snapped.

Demon blood is extremely potent and powerful. If humans drink it, it makes them stronger, faster and longer lived. If a creature of the Netherworld drank it ...

“What the fuck are you doing?” my voice blurted out before I could stop it.

Knight's vice-like grip around my waist didn't prevent me from attempting to attack Dagan, intent on doing any sort of bodily injury I could manage. But first, I'd have to wrench the creature from his chest.

I didn't get far before Knight grabbed me around the waist and pushed me back against the wall. He wrapped his hands around my throat, holding me immobile. Gritting my teeth, I raked my fingernails into the skin on his hands. He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, a slow smile spread across his lips. “Don't mind her, she gets jealous.”

The creature continued licking Dagan's chest, but Dagan was focused on me. His eyes threatened murder in no uncertain terms.

Okay, I'd basically just blown my cover and probably Dagan's and Knight's—if they were, in fact, not involved with the creature. But at this point, I couldn't say I cared. All I knew was Dagan was nurturing the creature with his blood which meant the job of taking her down was going to be a hell of a lot harder.

With renewed determination, I clawed at Knight’s forearms. He glared at me with the promise of retribution.

He suddenly let go. I slumped back against the wall, sucking in a gulp of air. Knight didn’t glance back, but continued to stare at me. “I'm sorry, but I think my little hell-cat here has had enough for the evening.”

The creature laughed and continued sucking at Dagan. Meanwhile, Knight latched onto my arm and forced me out the door. He slammed it shut, and dragged me through the club as if I were a two-year-old having a tantrum.

“Let go!” I demanded and glared into his steely eyes, awaiting the detonation of his fury.

He gave me a shove out the back door and I tripped over my ridiculous heels, falling to the ground as embarrassment claimed my cheeks. It was bad enough Knight was fuming at me but I had to go and demonstrate the fact that I was less than accustomed to high-heeled footwear.

“Get in the car,” he grumbled.

I stood up and shook off my embarrassment—it wouldn’t do me any good. “I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Don't make me lose my temper.”

“I've had enough of you and your orders,” I snapped, wiping the asphalt crumbs from my palms.

Knight balled his hands into fists as he approached the Wrangler, pulling my keys from the exhaust pipe. I’d put them there since I had no pockets. He unlocked the driver's side door and pulled the seat back, slamming the door as he started the car.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, livid that he'd taken it upon himself to steal my car.

“Either get in now, or I'm leaving you here.”

I stormed to the passenger door and threw myself into the moving car as he peeled into the street. “You have some nerve,” I started.

Knight shook his head. “I don't have the patience to deal with you now. You just blew any chance we had of nabbing the creature.” He glanced at me, and his eyes were filled with a rage I’d never seen before. It intimidated me a little.

“As if you have any interest in catching the creature,” I snapped. He faced me and I continued railing at him. “I'm onto your little plan, Knight. I know you're the creature's real master.”

He hit the brakes so hard, I banged my forehead on the dashboard. Not enjoying the feeling, I pushed myself back into the seat and put on my seat belt.

“What did you just say?” he said in a low, dismal tone.

Although it probably was going to be the last mystery I solved, I couldn't help but gloat. I'd figured out his little plan as easy as you please. I was no fool. “I know you're the keeper of the creature. I figured it out tonight.”

He laughed, and it was a caustic sound. “You are an idiot.”

“Don't pretend you aren't,” I said, ignoring the “idiot” part. “And that incident with the creature's blood was really great, by the way. So let's get this over and done with. Stop the car.”

He laughed again. “You want to fight me? You know where that got you last time.”

“Well, I doubt you're going to just let me take you into custody, are you?”

He shook his head. “Nope, I'm not.”

He took a left at the first street we encountered, and I faced a long alley of nothing but trees on one side and the county dump on the other. Perfect for our needs. He parked the car and opened the door, dropping the keys on the seat.

“Come on, then,” he said.

I opened my door and exchanged my ridiculous heels for sneakers with just a thought and some fairy dust. Okay, so a red cat suit and white sneakers didn’t exactly go together but what did I care? I'd probably be too dead to worry about it soon enough.

Knight had already made his way into a clearing between the trees, and he'd thrown his leather vest to the ground. He stood naked except for a pair of black jeans and a grimace.

“Come and get me, Dulcie.”

I couldn’t entirely rely on my physical abilities or I'd be dead, Knight being way stronger than I. And he couldn't be entirely immune to magic; otherwise, I couldn't have dressed him, right? Hopefully the answer was a resounding yes.

I braced myself in front of him and shaking my hand until a mound of fairy dust appeared, I imagined a pair of solid, silver handcuffs. When I felt the cold metal in my hand, I knew what I had to do. “It doesn't have to be like this, Knight. You can come willingly.”

He laughed, and in a split second, was on me, pushing me into the ground. I tried to throw him off with a bolt of energy, but he acted like I'd just blown on him. He pushed on my arms until they were immobilized against the dirt. Then he straddled me, holding my legs to the ground until I was as helpless as a turtle on its back.

“I'm not the creature's master, Dulcie.”

I squirmed under him, outraged when I realized he wasn't going anywhere. I was a goner. “It all fits, Knight.”

“It fits if you're looking for it to fit. Don't throw it on me because you're looking for a scapegoat.”

“Then what was that part with you rubbing her blood?” I insisted. Remembering the obscenity, I glanced down at his hand which still bore the red stains. “Or was that just some sick, twisted fantasy of yours?”

He chuckled. “I needed her blood so Sam could do a tracking spell on her. I ’spose you could say I'd guessed the night might not work out exactly like I'd planned. Guess I'm getting to know you well.”

Boil his brains for thinking of every possible angle. There was a reason he was such a big wig of the A.N.C. And he hadn't gotten there with his pretty face. Embarrassed though I might have been, I was also relieved to find Knight wasn’t the creature’s master because I had to face it—I sort of … liked him.

He chuckled, drawing my attention away from my inner monologue. “I believe we've been in exactly this position before. I'll have to ask you again, are you going to behave if I let you up?”

“And I'll have to again say yes,” I snapped.

The smile disintegrated from his lips. “I prefer you underneath me anyway.”

A thrilling tingle crawled up my spine and wedged itself in my stomach. I knew he was going to kiss me, and I wasn’t about to stop him.

His lips were forceful and demanding, almost lacking in tenderness. I wrapped my arms around his neck and welcomed his tongue, meeting it with my own thrust for thrust. He pounded his pelvis against me and kissed me even harder. The fingers from one hand entangled themselves in my hair while his other hand tiptoed down my neck and chest until it found my breast. He teased the hardened flesh of my already erect nipple through the vinyl of my cat suit as I arched underneath him.

I palpated my fingers across his chest, reveling in the ridges of valleys and mountains of his abdomen. I paused above the scar that ran the length of his chest.

He pulled himself from me, and I licked my lips, savoring every last taste of him.

“I hope you killed whoever did this to you,” I said as I traced the scar.

He chuckled and pushed his pelvis into me once more, as if trying to draw more attention to the bulge in his pants. He didn't need to. “Yes, Dulce, he's long gone.”

He hovered above me, just watching me. I didn’t know what to say or do. Anxiety welled within my stomach when it seemed he might kiss me again and I pushed myself out from underneath him, suddenly scared to death that we’d gone as far as we had.

Knight chuckled. “And where do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t know. All I did know was that I had to get away from him—I couldn’t handle the anxiety pounding through my veins but I also didn’t want him to know that.

“We shouldn't be doing this. What would the Relations Office think?” It was the only excuse I could think of.

“You’re not my employee.”

Damn. “I, uh, I’m just not …”

“You really know how to ruin a good moment, don't you?” he interrupted and stood up, starting for the Wrangler.

“You'll thank me later,” I said, but Knight just shook his head and tossed me the keys.

SIXTEEN

Launching myself up my front stairwell, I opened the door to find Bram and Trey sitting side by side on the sofa, watching Nosferatu.

I couldn’t find the wherewithal to come up with a snide remark.

“Sweet, you have returned,” Bram said with a leer while his eyes traversed me from head to toe. “And what a sight you are.”

He stood up and approached me, extending his hand as if he wanted to run it down the red vinyl covering my torso. I dismissed him with a wave. “Not now, Bram, I have work to do.”

I grabbed the phone, about to dial Sam, then realized I really didn't want Bram hanging around for the rest of the evening. Not when it involved A.N.C. business. Neither, for that matter, would Knight. And he'd be way less polite about it.

“Bram, thanks for watching Trey, but I can take care of things from here.”

He bowed, his fangs just cresting his lip as his eyes still danced with unabated lust. “I am happy to assist you, Sweet.” He paused. “Do not forget the favor you owe me.”

I nodded, knowing I wasn't about to forget it anytime soon. Hot Hades, it wasn't good to owe favors to anyone, let alone Bram. “Yeah, I won't forget.”

“Well, I see you are busy.” He motioned toward the door. “Shall I show myself out?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said as I dialed Sam's number.

“Bye, Bram, cool movie, man,” Trey said, extending his bent knuckles like he thought he and Bram were gang brothers.

I didn't hear or see Bram's response, but I did notice the less-than-pleasant salutation offered by Knight and the equally less-than-polite response offered by Bram. Men ...

“Hello?” Sam said groggily.

“Sam, I need a big favor.”

“Dulce, what time is it?”

I checked my watch. “Two in the morning. Can you come over? I need you to do a locating spell.”

“Right now?” she squeaked in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah, Knight has the creature's blood on his hand, but he isn't sure how long it will last.”

“Oh, wow,” Sam’s voice perked up. “Okay, give me a little time to get my stuff together.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I hung up and turning toward the living room, discovered Trey gawking with horror at Knight who stood in his black pants, the red blood staining his hand.

“What the heck happened to you guys?” Trey asked, fear trembling just beneath his bravado.

I shook my head. “It's a really long story.”

An hour later, Sam arrived, carrying a brown leather satchel of potion ingredients. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she plodded into the house still wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt. The expression on her face wasn't welcoming, rather, it screamed: I want to get the hell back to sleep.

“Hi, Sam,” I said apologetically.

“Hi, Dulce.” Then she glanced at Knight and Trey. “Guys.”

They both said hello, and I followed Sam to the kitchen table where she unloaded her bag of tricks—a stone bowl, a wooden spoon and two vials of ... something.

“We'll need four people for the spell to work,” Sam said.

“Then we'll have to use Trey,” I answered, more to Knight than anyone else. He just nodded.

Sam faced him. “Where is the blood?”

He held up his hand.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “Might be too old, but we can try.”

“Should we rinse it into a glass or something?” I asked.

Sam shook her head. “No, that will dilute the power of the blood, and the chlorine could kill any chance we have of making it work. Nope, the best thing is to see if we can scrape some of it off.” She held his palm and rotated it, as if searching for the largest smear specimen on the top of his hand. “Looks like some is caught under your fingernails; that might be the best sample.” Sam paused, then glanced at me. “Dulce, can you get a knife, and see if you can shave some of the blood off him?”

I frowned, that sounded painful. Thankfully it wasn't my hand. “Yeah, okay.”

“Make sure you don't cut him. That'll ruin the spell, and we'll just end up tracking him.”

I nodded and went for the smallest knife in my selection. When I approached Knight, I held it up with as wicked a smile as I could manage. He just shook his head.

“Hold his hand over the stone bowl, and try to get as many decent scrapings as you can. First, try under the fingernails.”

Knight followed me to the kitchen table. He held his hand over the stone bowl, and I took hold of it, trying to ignore the feelings of pleasure that visited me at his warm touch.

“Proceed with caution,” he said in a deep voice.

“What can I do?” Trey asked, moving forward. “And who are you trying to track?”

“Never mind,” I answered.

Knight shook his head and whispered. “I'll take care of it later. You can tell him.”

Thinking that sounded pretty ominous, I didn't respond, but Sam did.

“We're trying to track the creature, Trey. I'll need you in a second, but for now, just sit tight.”

“Over and out,” Trey said and returned to the couch, dropping himself into it as if all the bones in his body had just collapsed.

I rotated Knight's hand, trying to figure out the best way to get under his nails without slicing off the tip of his finger. After acquiring an adequate angle, I took the small paring knife and carved out whatever I could from beneath his nails. A few dark bits of blood drifted into the stone bowl. When I couldn’t get any more, I turned his hand over to shave off the remaining blood.

“Use the back of the knife, not the blade,” he said.

I glanced at him and grinned. “Why, are you scared?”

He paused a moment before returning the smile. “Yes.”

I laughed and flipped the knife, shaving the dried stain with it. More crusty blood flaked into the stone bowl until it looked like a small mound of red dandruff.

“That's probably enough,” Sam said as she inspected my work.

Knight pulled his hand from mine and started for the sink, washing his hands twice.

Sam grabbed the wooden spoon from the table top and a vial of something that looked like pink lemonade. She poured the entire contents of the vial into the blood bowl and began stirring, inspecting it for who knew what.

The stuff in the bowl didn't do anything—the blood just disappeared into the pink lemonade liquid and that was that.

“Dulce, there should be a pH test kit in the bag, can you get it for me?”

I shuffled through her bag until I found the rectangular sheets of paper.

“Just dip the end of one into the potion,” Sam said.

I did as I was told, and the paper went from white to a deep purple.

“Flap it around like you're drying a Polaroid photo.”

I obeyed and flapped it. It didn't change color.

“Great, now you just have to drink it,” she said with a smirk.

“Drink it?” I repeated, my stomach churning at the thought.

“Sure, how do you think you're going to be able to find the creature without taking some of it into yourself?”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” I backed away, shaking my head. “I'm not drinking that.”

Knight faced me. “It's either you or me.”

That was easy. “You.”

Sam's smile beamed wider. “Actually, you both have to drink it ... if you want it to work right. Besides, don’t both of you want to be able to track the thing?”

I couldn't argue. Sam opened my cupboard and produced two juice glasses. There wasn't that much potion in the stone bowl, so we'd each just have a gulp, probably. Okay, I could handle that. Disgusting, yes, but doable all the same.

Sam ladled out two equal portions and placed the glasses before us. Then she turned to Trey, who was still riveted by Nosferatu. “Trey, I need you now.”

He nodded, his attention still stuck on the screen, even as he made his way toward us. “What do I do?” he asked.

Sam took his arm and positioned him between Knight and me. She stood next to Knight so we were all surrounding the kitchen table like the wise men bringing gifts to baby Jesus. Only our gifts weren't gold, frankincense and myrrh, but nasty creature juice.

Just then, the phone rang. “Should I get it?” I asked Sam, not wanting to appear rude.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Wondering who the hell could be calling me at this hour, I lifted the phone. “Hello?”

“You have some nerve coming here and asking for my help and then nearly blowing the whole fucking thing!” Dagan roared.

I gulped down an acid response. “I already got an earful.” I glanced at Knight—I'd gotten a lot more than an earful.

“You're lucky I don't come down there and show you what I really think of you.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked, my temper thinning. Threatening a Regulator was not a good idea, even if I had royally screwed up.

“No, it'll be a promise if you ever embarrass me like that again. Luckily for you, I was able to convince my guest that you were just a silly, jealous idiot and not some incompetent cop.”

I frowned. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Don't show your face around here for a while. I won't be held responsible for my actions if you do.”

Yeah, I'd say that was a threat. “Speaking of being responsible, Dagan, why the hell did you let her drink your blood? And don't even start by telling me you don't know what a demon's blood will do to whoever drinks it.”

He chuckled, long and hard. “There aren't any laws against me sharing my blood.”

No, there weren't. He did it purely to make my job harder. “You asshole,” I seethed. I slammed the phone down before he had the chance and turned to face the others, who regarded me with undisguised curiosity. I shrugged. “Dagan's just pissed off with me, that's all.”

Sam nodded, like it wasn't news, and motioned for me to resume my place with a cock of her head. “Okay, now Knight, er Todd ...” she glanced at Knight sheepishly.

“It's okay,” he said.

Trey didn't even notice.

“Okay,” Sam started up again. “You and Dulcie need to drink the potion and then grab the hand of the person next to you as quickly as you can. Trey, you and I need to focus on containing them.”

“What?” I asked, stiffening. “Containing us?”

“That's why we need four people. Well, really, we could've used more but four will do. When you take a creature into yourself, you adopt some of its mannerisms, and if it's a violent beast, then the same can be said for you.”

I dropped her hand. “You mean to tell me that Knight might end up having some of the creature's ... tendencies in him?”

Sam nodded, a nervous smile on her lips.

I sighed. “So we might have a six-foot-four monster on our hands? Built like that?” I said, pointing at his chest. He just grinned. Bastard.

“Well, you might have a bad reaction, too,” Sam said.

I shook my head, not concerned about myself—I’d be more like trying to contain an enraged mosquito; it was the potential Frankenstein in the corner that worried me. “Maybe this isn't such a good idea.”

“It's the only chance we have,” Knight interrupted. “I can control myself, and I can control you.”

I frowned at that less than humble announcement and took Sam's hand again. “For Sam’s and Trey's sakes, you’d better be right.”

Knight disregarded me and faced Sam. “How long will this spell last?”

Sam was silent as she considered the question. “Well, if the creature does rub off on you, in terms of habits, those usually last maybe a day or so. As far as being able to track the creature, you'll probably have about two weeks.”

“That should be plenty of time,” Knight said. He picked up his glass of nasty libation and regarded me with a smile. I grasped mine and watched Sam take Trey's hand, hesitation in her eyes. Trey was eyeing the wretched juice as if he wanted some.

“Cheers!” Knight said and downed his. I was quick to follow. Then I plastered my hand into Sam's and Trey's. At first nothing happened. But then, I thought I was going to explode.

Searing pain shot through me, like someone was shredding my insides. Unable to continue standing up, I started to collapse to the floor but Sam and Trey fought to keep me upright. My blurry eyes found Knight's face. His eyes were shut tight against the pain as he leaned against the wall.

I wailed out against the agony as tears streamed down my face. Trying to tear my hands from Trey and Sam's tight grasp was next to impossible and finally, when I knew I couldn't handle anymore, it stopped.

I caved into the floor as soon as Trey and Sam released me.

Sam hovered over me, her expression pinched. “Well, now we know who can hold their potions.”

I looked at Knight who seemed to regard me with amusement—a raised brow and broad grin. There didn't seem to be any sign of the creature in him. Just the same cocky bastard he always was. As for me, I couldn't say I felt any creature stirring within me either.

“Why didn't you tell me it would feel like that?” I demanded.

Sam held out her hand and helped me to my feet. “Because you never would have agreed to take it.”

I frowned. “So how does this spell work anyway? I don't feel any different.”

Sam shook her head. “You and Knight need to focus on wanting to track the creature. You have to awaken the spell for it to work.”

“So what will we see?” I insisted.

Sam smirked. “Why don't you try it?”

“Okay, what do we do?”

“It helps if you’re close together. Now focus on one another's eyes. Then inside your mind, call to the creature, make it show you where it is.”

Knight stood before me, a slight smile playing with his lips. I faced him and gazed into his eyes, trying to call the creature, but the only image in my mind was how hard Knight had been when laying on me in the woods. I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness of my eyelids would dispatch memories of Knight and his erection.

Luckily, I saw the creature. And it wasn't the redhead at all. It was hideous in its natural state—oafish and bulky with red body hair that covered its entirety. Its face was flat, two huge, yellow and round eyes peered from its head. It didn't appear to have a nose, but its mouth was full of teeth that looked like they belonged to a tiger shark. It was hunched over, its back making a perfect half circle. It dug its teeth into the carcass of what looked like a rodent, macerating the small animal in the same way it must have done to Fabian, Tad and Guy. I was suddenly ill.

Victoria's Secret catwalk? Ha, not on your life.

“Where is it, Dulce?” Knight whispered.

I pulled my attention from the creature and noticed its surroundings. High ceilings and broken windows, cement floors with puddles of Hades only knew what. The whole place was dark and drafty. “The abandoned warehouse on Magnolia,” I whispered, opening my eyes. “Let’s go after it.”

I started for the door, but Knight grabbed my arms, chuckling as he did so.

“It will be morning soon, Dulce, and shape-shifters are like vampires—they don't operate in the day. Its master isn't going to call it tonight. From here on out, we track it every evening.”

I nodded, silently pleased I wouldn't have to do any more detective work tonight. Hey, I was tired.

Knight faced Sam. “Thank you, Sam, you are some witch.” She beamed. “I hope you understand I'll have to swear you to secrecy, Relations Office orders.”

I rolled my eyes. Damn, Knight and his Relations Office orders.

“I understand,” Sam said simply.

“One more thing,” Knight started before glancing at Trey, who’d returned to watching TV. “He can't remember what went on today.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I insisted, thinking Knight was putting a hit out on Trey or something.

Sam smiled. “It means he wants me to give Trey a forgetting potion.”

Oh, well that was better than killing him. Sam rummaged through her bag. “Dulce, do you have any chocolate syrup or anything?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I think Knight got some maple syrup but that's all we have.”

Sam glanced at Trey and then nodded. “Yeah, he'll like that.”

I grabbed the maple syrup and handed it to her. She fished inside her satchel and produced a vial of what looked like tea. “What's that?” I asked.

“Forget tea. It'll wash his short-term memories right out of his head.”

“And you just carry that around with you?” I asked with a smirk.

“I came prepared.” She laughed. “Can you boil some water?”

I grabbed a saucer. Filling it with water, I threw it on the stove and turned on the flame.

“Pour a little syrup in it. The tea can be tart.”

I nodded and squeezed the syrup over the saucer until the liquid turned a caramel brown. Once it started boiling, Sam put the tea into a metal sifter and plopped it into the syrup water. After a few seconds, she removed it with a spoon. Grabbing a mug, she poured the tea and handed it to me.

I carried it into the living room and presented it to Trey. “Drink this.”

He willingly accepted it, blowing on it wetly before he brought it to his lips. “Mmm, takes like syrup.”

I just smiled as I walked back to Sam, who was packing all her things into the grocery bag.

“Well, looks like my job here is done.”

“Thanks, Sam.” I said.

She started for the door, Knight and I right behind her. Her gaze drifted to Trey, who was sipping the tea like I'd told him. “He'll sleep like a baby tonight,” she said with a little grin.

I shut and locked the door behind her. Then, crossing my arms against my chest, I thought about how tired I was. I sure as hell didn’t need Knight’s half naked body next to mine. I’d never be able to sleep. “Trey,” I said as he glanced at me. “You're sleeping in my room tonight.” Then I addressed the unimpressed Knight. “You get the couch.”

SEVENTEEN

Knight was asleep on the couch, and Trey was at work. I was also working—on my Bram novel and getting closer to finishing it day by day. This Relations-Office-imposed hiatus was great for writing my novel, even if it was a bummer to no longer be on the team. And I missed Quillan, so what? I was disappointed he hadn't stopped over or called since discovering Knight was living with me.

I pushed thoughts of Quillan out of my mind. It wasn't my fault he was too proud or too whatever to continue our friendship. It was out of my control, and things out of your control should be left alone ’cause there isn't a damned thing you can do about them.

I finished chapter twelve with a smile and stretched my limbs, eyeing my outline. I had four more chapters to write, then I'd be finished.

The sound of Knight shifting on the sofa captured my attention, and I glanced over just as he threw a pen at me. It landed at my feet, with a tiny thud.

“Do you have to type so loud?” he muttered and crossed his arms behind his head. The blanket covering him shifted until it was only concealing his bottom half. A brown nipple appeared to be winking at me.

I threw the pen back, and it landed just beside his head. I wished I had better aim. “If you don't like it, go back to your hotel.”

“You should be happy I’m forfeiting a comfortable hotel room to sleep on your uncomfortable couch to make sure you’re safe,” he said and shook his head. Sitting up, he threw me an unamused frown. The blanket dropped from around him, revealing his hunter-green boxers. With a groan, he hoisted himself to his feet and headed for my bedroom.

“I'm sleeping in here,” he mumbled. “I don't care if you don't like it.”

Actually, I did like it. Let him box himself up in my bedroom so I could actually get more work done. It was a hell of a lot better than having to feign disinterest in his half-clothed body.

I sighed, thinking I should be asleep, also, but I wasn't tired. Last night was the third night we'd spent camped outside the abandoned warehouse on Magnolia Street, or snooping outside Dagan's club—wherever the creature went, we went. But unfortunately, in those three nights, the creature hadn't been summoned by its master even once. And the spell’s expiration date of two weeks loomed over us like a tornado.

I just shook my head and reread the notes Bram had left me when we'd put Trey under his less-than-thrilled but watchful eye. The notes were really three pages of anecdotes and stories from his life written in an impressive hand. I found myself admiring the curlicues and tendrils of what looked like calligraphy. Hmm, I wouldn't have thought Bram would have such nice writing. Then I remembered how ancient he was, and I found myself sorely wishing I could've learned eighteenth century graphology in grammar school.

The notes were so detailed, I didn’t need any more interviews, which was great because it wasn’t like I had lots of free time with Knight and Trey living with me.

I glanced at the postscript:

Perhaps these notes will suffice for the remainder of your book. I am not interested in watching the hobgoblin again.

Yours,

Bram

I smiled as I reread the note—at least he was honest. And I couldn't say I blamed him. I was getting mighty sick of guarding Trey, too. And you could throw Knight into that sentiment as well. I couldn't wait for my humble apartment to be mine again.

I shuffled through Bram's notes for at least the fifth time and thought about what a full life he'd led. Three hundred years … it seemed Bram had made good use of it, although I was convinced he'd exaggerated some of the accounts—the claim he was able to overcome two master vampires without suffering any injury to himself, being just one example. Oh, and there was also the amusing little account of his five-some at the Court of Queen Victoria with four of her ladies in waiting ... But other than those embellishments, I had to admit Bram was roguishly entertaining, and his liaisons would provide plenty of fodder for an interesting book. Well, at least I hoped they would.

“I can't sleep,” Knight complained as he reappeared in my living room, rubbing his eyes. Apparently, modesty wasn’t part of his vocabulary, and he strutted into my room practically naked.

“If you're looking for sympathy, you've come to the wrong person,” I said snidely. “I've had less sleep than you.”

He grimaced as he lumbered into the kitchen where he reached for a bag of ground Starbucks and poured some water into my Mr. Coffee—a cherished birthday present from Quillan. I decided to fight the urge to think of Quillan again and steered my attention back to Knight, who leaned against the counter, massaging the back of his neck as he waited for the coffee to run its course.

“And for Hades’s sake, put on some damned clothes.”

Knight chuckled as he performed isometrics on the edge of the counter until his muscles bulged, the show-off. “You appeared to enjoy rubbing your hands across my chest the other night.”

He was never going to let me live that night down. This was the sixth time he'd brought it up in the course of three nights and four days. “You talk about it so often, I think you’d like a replay.”

Knight grabbed a mug and poured his coffee. Not bothering with cream or sugar, he brought it to his lips and swallowed, the heat of the liquid apparently not bothering him. Hmm, another Loki trait? I felt like I should start keeping a log of all his abilities for future reference.

He nodded. “Just say when.”

I grumbled something unintelligible but was interrupted.

“You must’ve thought about what it would be like,” Knight continued and gave me a promising smile.

I laughed and shook my head, standing up. I suddenly found myself tremendously fatigued. In all truth, I was exhausted. Not only by my lack of sleep, but the constant banter with Knight was equally draining. I started for my bedroom, imagining myself in the arms of Morpheus, when it suddenly dawned on me why he was becoming so sexual.

I smirked and stopped in my tracks, turning to face him. “You do realize what's going on here?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No.”

I laughed, pleased to be the one still left untouched by the creature’s blood. Apparently fairies were immune to Kragengen blood. But the same couldn’t be said for Lokis. I took my time before explaining, enjoying every second of the fact that there was finally something I could hold over his head. “The creature is still in your veins, its ... interests haven't dissipated yet.”

“Its interests?” he repeated.

My smile expanded. “It's sexual appetite.”

He nodded and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Could be.” He shrugged. “I definitely don’t feel myself.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I chortled.

“What about you?” he interrupted, eyeing me lasciviously.

I shrugged, delighted with the conversation. In fact, I had to admit it was the best conversation Knight and I had ever had. “I feel just fine,” I said with a confident grin.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked facetiously, apparently annoyed he was the only one feeling the sexual bug.

My eyes rested on his fingers tapping against the coffee mug. “Don't get any ideas. I saw what turns that fiend on, and I'm not into sadomasochism.”

He smirked and placed the mug on the counter, closing in on me until I was backed up against the living room wall. “You should keep an open mind,” he said in a subdued voice like he was telling me what the weather was like.

I tried to shake my head, but he kept coming. He stood less than an inch or so away—close enough to run his index finger down the center of my neck, dipping into the depression at the junction of my clavicle bones and down the center of my chest. I gripped his finger before it reached my breast.

“Trey is gone. It's just the two of us,” he whispered, as if those words were incentive enough to jump his bewitched bones.

“You're not in the right frame of mind, Knight,” I said with a counterfeit smile. “I'd be taking advantage of you.”

“I want you to take advantage of me. I’m thinking chains and blindfolds …”

I squared my palms against his chest and thrust him away from me. “Don't push me, Knight, or I'll report you to the Relations Office ... possessed as you are or not.”

He frowned but his eyes continued to undress me, like he'd never seen a woman before. I glanced down at myself, trying to figure out what was so arresting, but couldn’t find the answer. I was wearing a black tank top and short pajama shorts. Damn it all, I'd have to start wearing my winter jammies.

And Knight? He looked like a zombie determined to get my brains. But instead of a brain-besotted zombie, I had a horned out of his mind Loki on my hands. Sometimes life throws little surprises at you and this was definitely one I was going to get miles out of.

“Knight, pull yourself together! If we’re going to work together, you’ve gotta snap out of it!”

***

Knight and I resumed our usual position of lying in wait on our stomachs, just outside the entrance the creature used to come and go through the warehouse. The cold bite in the air contrasted dramatically with the raw heat emanating from Knight's eyes.

It was midnight, and I'd had enough creature stalking to last me a lifetime. I hadn't slept well as I was afraid Knight was going to try to make a move on me again. Whatever he'd swallowed, his sexual appetite was getting more pronounced by the day, making him as fun to be around as a horny dog who refuses to let go of your leg. It was ironic to think I much preferred the staid, cocky and controlling Knight I'd come to know so well.

The feel of his palm smacking my ass was the last straw. “For Hades’s sake, Knight, pay attention to the damned creature!”

“I can’t help it!” he groaned and rolled closer to me.

I pushed him away and when he ventured a hand near me again, I smacked it away.

“Hit me again please,” he whispered. “Harder.”

This was going to be a long night.

I wrenched my eyes from his lusty gaze back to the creature who was in its natural hairy state in the midst of devouring what appeared to be a road kill carcass. From the corner of my eye, I could see Knight still watching me, paying zero attention to the creature. I handed him the binoculars, hoping it would give him something to do.

He held them up and feigned interest in the creature before dropping them to the ground and returning his insistent gaze to me. “You're much nicer to look at,” he whispered.

Why the hell did I have to put up with this? “Watch the creature.”

“We have time, Dulce, it's not going anywhere,” he said, wrapping his arm around me. I pinched it hard and he moaned out. “Again, Dulce, do it again.”

Instead, I crawled away from him. “Knight, lay off me. You're going to be very humiliated when you come out of this.” I glanced at him with a smile. “And you can bet your ass I'm never going to let you forget it.”

I grabbed the binoculars, figuring one of us needed to pay attention to the creature. Refocusing on our subject, I suddenly noticed the creature wasn't in the warehouse.

“Goddammit!” I seethed. “The creature left. Get up, get up.”

I got to my feet and sped down the alley, Knight directly behind me. Turning the corner, I nearly lost my footing in some loose gravel and pushed myself against the wall of the warehouse to regain my balance, motioning Knight to do the same.

I peered around the corner and watched the creature, now in its feminine shape, stepping into a dark Ford Explorer. I spotted the Wrangler which was parked maybe forty feet up the street, hidden behind a dumpster.

Once the Ford started down the alley, I bolted for the Wrangler, pulling my keys from my jeans pocket as I did so. Knight was quick behind me. I beeped the alarm off and threw open the door, not waiting to see if Knight was seated. I didn't have time.

I turned the key in the ignition, put it into drive and peeled into the street, madly searching for the black Ford. At the base of the alley, red taillights disappeared over the crest of the hill on Magnolia Street, heading onto Periwinkle Street. Craning my head to the left, there was nothing in sight. Hoping the taillights belonged to the Ford, I followed them.

I caught the Ford at a stop light and suddenly worried the creature might glance behind and recognize us. “Knight, drop down so it can't see you.”

He did as I told him, thank God.

I was careful to keep at least two cars between the Ford and myself as we drove down Periwinkle Street and headed for Splendor's city center. When the Ford reached Main Street, it took a left, and I did the same.

The Ford continued down Main Street, approaching Headquarters. When it was about thirty feet from Headquarters, it slowed down and made a left into the parking lot.

“Why the hell are they going to Headquarters?” I asked as I drove past them, not wanting to leave any clues that they were being tailed. Instead, I took the first left onto Penelope Street, and then took another left into the alley that bordered Headquarters. I drove slowly as I navigated around the potholes and trash.

Suddenly, it occurred to me why they might be at Headquarters. The illegal potions that were being stored in the vault. Maybe they hadn’t been destroyed on purpose? Maybe these bastards were going after them? The only thing I could wonder is how they would’ve gotten access. Maybe it was an insider job? But who within the A.N.C had access to the vault? It was basically top secret.

I glanced at Knight. “Hey, who has access to the vault?”

His eyes were closed, his arm out straight as he repeatedly pinched it, writhing in what looked like bliss.

“For Hades’s sake, Knight!”

He threw open his eyes and glared at me. “Why do you want to know?”

I shook my head, wanting to keep my reasons to myself. I mean, I didn’t have the whole picture yet so no need to fill him on every little detail. “Just curious.”

He shrugged. “Anyone management level and above.”

“So that means Quillan and you and who else?”

“About a handful of people in the Relations Office.”

I turned the headlights off and pulled up to a break in the wall separating the parking lot from the alley. Turning the car off, so as not to attract any attention, I watched the Ford sit idly in the parking lot, but my mind was still on the connection with the A.N.C.

If a handful of people from the A.N.C had access to the vault, maybe one of them was involved? And only Quillan had access within our branch? Hmmm … No, it couldn’t be Quillan—I’d worked with him too long and knew him too well. There was no way he was involved. And as far as anyone from the Relations Office in the Netherworld? Well, I’d never met any of them and it’s not like the potions went back to the Netherworld—they were destroyed on Headquarters premises.

That left just one person.

Course, I’d thought he was guilty once before and that had resulted in my total humiliation so I wasn’t exactly thrilled with playing that card again.

Knight got out of the car, so I followed suit and forced my attention from the facts that seemed to be pointing the finger at Knight to the Ford which was still idling in the parking lot.

No one got out. No one got in. Maybe that killed my theory about the illegal potions and the link with Headquarters? Maybe Headquarters was just backlogged on destroying the street potions? I mean, who knew how reliable the cauldron delivery system was. Maybe my imagination was running away with me … Good thing I hadn’t said anything.

“Why the hell would they come here?” I whispered, now at a complete loss.

“Because it's the one place where no one would imagine they would,” Knight started, looking pained. He crossed his arms against his chest like he was restraining himself. From what, I had to wonder.

I glanced at him and nodded, wondering if he were the criminal in question. “I guess so.”

He took a deep breath. “That's exactly why they chose to come here. Because it's safe.”

The breath caught in my throat as I watched another car enter the Headquarters lot. This one was a silver Lincoln Town Car. It pulled up behind the Ford and a man I didn't recognize stepped out. I grabbed the binoculars.

Holding them to my eyes, I watched the man. He was stout and short with a mustache and a sinister air about him. He waddled up to the driver's side of the Ford and had a conversation with the driver. I returned my attention to the Town Car when I glimpsed movement in the back seat. There was someone sitting back there but they were covered by the cloak of night.

The stout man inspected the surroundings of the parking lot, as if alerted that someone might be watching them. I instinctively shrunk back, even though there was no way he or anyone else could see Knight and me. We were completely hidden in the alley. The man shook his head and returned to the Town Car. The Ford started for the parking lot exit, the Town Car behind it. Both disappeared into the lamp-less darkness of Main Street.

“Get in the car,” I said as I went for the driver's side. I started the car and gunned it until we were out of the alley and following the creature and its master.

EIGHTEEN

I'd managed not to lose the Ford or the Town Car, and Knight and I were now following them out of the city center and toward the town of Estuary on Highway One. The farther we ventured from Splendor, the fewer cars on the road and the more I worried the Ford and Town Car would notice us.

“This creature juice is giving me a serious upset stomach,” Knight said through gritted teeth. He dug his fingers into the armrests and shuddered.

I didn't glance at him, entirely too focused on not losing sight of the two vehicles, which wasn't hard considering they were the only other vehicles on the road.

At least his issues were going from erectile to merely gastrointestinal. Gastrointestinal I could handle. His erectile issues were just getting downright annoying.

“Pull over, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” he said and sounded like a junkie going through withdrawals.

“I’m not interested in you or your issues right now, Knight. We’ve got more important stuff to deal with. Just breathe deeply until the feeling goes away.”

I had a mind to call Sam and find out what the hell went wrong. But I knew what the answer would be—it wasn't her; it was Knight.

“I feel sick to my stomach,” he hissed.

I laughed. “That's called blue balls.”

Knight just grumbled.

The Ford took a right on an unpaved road with no sign. The only distinguishing landmark happened to be an old defunct mill, looming in the shadows like a nightmare. The Town Car turned onto the road, following the Ford, but I stayed on Highway One, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. Soon both vehicles disappeared down the road, trailed by a cloud of red-tinted dust from their taillights. I pulled a U-turn and started back after them.

“Oh, God,” Knight groaned as he rolled his head back and forth.

“Just don’t throw up in my car.” I gave him a meaningful glance. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

Not waiting for a response, I pulled onto the dirt road and put the Wrangler into four-wheel-drive. With the potholes and the incline, I was surprised the Town Car made it up at all.

“Where are we?” Knight asked, finally pulling his attention away from that which makes him male.

“Some dirt road. I think we're in the city limits of Estuary but I'm not sure.” I paused to glance at him and noticed his erection raring against his khaki pants like a demon wanting out of Pandora's Box. Course, in this case, Knight's demon wanted in.

I shook my head. Once this case was done, and if we were lucky enough to survive, a new type of torture awaited Knight—and that torture included me reminding him in vivid detail of every sexual notion to come out of his mouth.

“Do you think you’re going to puke?” I asked, wondering if I should just leave him in the car and handle the arrests myself.

“I’m not going to be sick,” he groaned and glanced outside. “You should turn off your headlights—otherwise, the lights are going to blow any chance we have at getting these guys.”

The word “guys” struck me, being plural. “There are at least, what, four of them including the creature? And there are two of us,” I said, sounding like I was setting up the foundation for a math problem.

“I'm easily as strong as three men,” my nymphomaniac passenger said calmly.

“You were. Now I’m afraid you’ll just toss your cookies on them.” I fished inside the cubby hole below my CD player for my cell phone. “I think we need backup.”

“No, no backup. We can handle it,” Knight insisted.

I grabbed my phone and flipped it open. “Knight, we'd be stupid to go in there without anyone covering our asses.”

I started to dial.

“Hang up the phone, Dulcie, that’s an order.” The steel set to his jaw was warning enough and I flipped the phone closed and dropped it back into its designated slot. “We can handle this,” he continued. “I can feel my strength returning.”

“Well, for our sakes, I hope you aren't exaggerating.”

I turned the headlights off and struggled to locate the dirt road in the darkness. Luckily, the moon broke from the clouds every so often to highlight my path. If I thought I'd been driving slowly before, now I was proceeding at a snail's pace.

Then I noticed the tire marks leading to a dirt driveway. At the top of the driveway was what looked like a house—a one-story, modest house that stood out like a blemish against the otherwise barren landscape. Parked in the driveway were the Town Car and the Ford.

I stopped the Wrangler and reached for the binoculars in Knight's lap. I grazed his anxious unit and when he grabbed my hand, I realized I’d reawakened his libido. Damn it all.

I pulled against him but he held me rigidly. “Knight, for Hades’s sake, go stand behind the bushes and wank!”

His eyes blinked open as they settled on me. “That won't help.”

I sighed, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. I reached around with my other hand, grabbed hold of the binoculars and bashed them against the back of his head.

He let go of my hand. “What the hell did you do that for?” he yelled and grabbed his head.

Hmm, he didn’t seem to have enjoyed getting hit upside the head so maybe he was coming back to himself. “To knock some sense into you.”

Knight continued to rub his head, glaring at me while I brought the binoculars to my eyes. No one was in the front, and it didn't appear anyone was in the back either. They must have already gone inside. Not wanting to make a drastic mistake, I continued watching the Town Car and the Ford for any sign of occupancy. After another five minutes, I was convinced they were empty.

I dropped the binoculars into my lap, and put the Wrangler into drive so I could pull off the road. The engine groaned as it ascended the small hill. A grove of pepper trees looked perfect for hiding the car so I pulled behind them.

“Knight, are you ready to go after them?” I asked, seriously suspecting he wasn’t.

He nodded, undid his seatbelt, and as he was reaching for the door, I grabbed the lapel of his shirt, wanting to prove how serious I was.

“You need to focus or you could get us both killed.”

“You don't need to warn me.”

I laughed at the irony in that, and grabbing the binoculars, opened the door and jumped to the ground. My sneakers barely made a sound as I ventured to the back of the Wrangler and pulled my Op 6 from inside the spare tire. It was always good policy to keep an extra weapon hidden. Knight caught the flash of the gun in the moonlight and grinned his approval.

“What are you armed with?” I asked.

He pulled the waistline of his pants forward and revealed the butt of his weapon. I shook my head. “You know, one of these days, that's going to misfire and you'll be a eunuch.”

He just chuckled and we started down the hill. At the foot of the hill, I crouched down and motioned for him to do the same. “I think I should go for the front of the house, and you go for the back,” I said.

Knight motioned for the binoculars. I handed them over, and he positioned them on top of his aquiline nose. “Looks like you've got your choice of two windows toward the east end of the house. I think those are your best bet.”

I motioned for the binoculars to double check, and decided he was right.

“How are you going to get in?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Break the window. I'll use my magic so it won't make a sound.”

Knight nodded, apparently satisfied. “I'll take the back and meet you in the middle. Try to keep them in the living room—easier to contain that way.”

“Good luck.”

Hopefully he'd have the stamina to do his job. I could just imagine him finding some secret spot to tiddle his widdle and where the hell would that leave me?

“Knight, you aren't going to get ... sidetracked are you?”

He frowned when he got my meaning. “No, I won't.”

“Okay, just wanted to check.”

“Shoot to kill and ask questions later,” he said.

I knew the real Knight was in there somewhere.

“Understood.” I started forward but Knight's hand on my arm prohibited me. I turned to face him.

“Be careful, Dulce.”

I nodded with a smile. “Ditto.”

Then I started forward and ran for the windows at the east end of the house. Reaching the windows, I tucked the Op 6 into my jeans and peered into the dirty bedroom window. It boasted nothing but an old mattress and a pair of even older sneakers. This looked like the best way in.

Now, how to break the glass. I could bust it with my arm (wrap said arm in my sweatshirt first) and magic out the sound but that required a lot of energy. So I decided to use magic entirely. Summoning a palm of fairy dust, I blew the dust at the window and focused on the pane of glass. I imagined it slicing down the middle and opening out like French doors. The glass obliged. Grabbing hold of the window pane, I hoisted myself up to the ledge, being careful not to make a sound as I dropped onto the stained carpet below.

Facing the window again, I imagined the separated glass melding back together and smiled at my handiwork. Not bad.

Pulling the Op 6 from my jeans, I cocked the gun and held it at eye level, starting for the hallway. The only light in the small house emanated from the living room where I could hear voices. Three were deep and one was a high-pitched, grating tone I knew only too well.

Zara, the hooker.

“Please let me go,” she said in an uneven voice, fraught with tears. “This ain't none of my business. I swear I won't tell a soul.”

“Shut her up,” someone grumbled, followed by the sound of a slap and Zara's pronounced sobbing.

I threw my back against the wall and sidled down the hall until I reached the threshold of the living room, but was still hidden by the darkness of the corridor.

“Don't feed me to that thing!” Zara said in a voice made tight by tears, but her tone held an angry edge. I could only imagine the “thing” in question was the creature. So they were planning on using her as a snack? Hmm, who knew what grisly chore they were designing for the creature in return.

“It's hungry,” a deep voice said. “What would you have us feed it?”

I'd heard enough.

Hoping the deep voice was someone in charge, I honed in on it until I figured it was coming to the left of me, on the opposite side of the wall I was leaning against. Holding the gun out before me, I pivoted and stepped out of the darkness. I immediately held my Op 6 against the temple of the perpetrator much to the shock of the other living room guests. He'd been exactly where I'd thought he was. Yay me.

“Nobody move a finger,” I demanded as I wrapped my arm around the flabby guy's chest and secured the barrel of the gun against him. He was a human—I could smell his sweat.

“Dulcie,” Zara said, gazing at me like I'd just ridden in on a white horse and was sporting the latest in shining armor.

I returned my attention to the two men in front of me. One was a vamp—tall, skinny and had the general look of someone who hadn't eaten food in centuries and the other a gnome—small and angry. The vamp would be the harder to take down. He held a leash to the creature who was half in its human state and half ... not. The upper part of its face was human, that of the red-headed siren, and the bottom part was hairy with those razor sharp teeth I'd come to know so well. Its body was covered in hair but its forearms and hands were human. It looked like someone hadn't separated their humans from their monsters in the wash cycle.

Its eyes fastened on Zara who sat on the floor in front of it, mascara and red lipstick smudged across her face.

“Zara, get out of here,” I snapped, resisting the urge to take my gun away from the human’s head in order to put a bullet between the creature's eyes. If I so much as flinched, the vamp would be on me. “Nobody touches her, got it?”

They sullenly nodded, although I noted the twitchy composure of the vamp. He wouldn't stay immobile for long. Luckily, it seemed the human was the one in charge, otherwise they would've let me kill him by now and they'd both be working on putting my wick out.

Zara didn't waste any time in flying for the door.

“Hey, Vampy, throw her the keys to the Explorer,” I said, realizing it wasn't like she could get a bus out of here. He hesitated so I rammed the barrel of the gun further into Pudgy's head. “Pronto!”

The vamp fumbled inside his pants pocket and tossed the keys to Zara who took them eagerly. The creature eyed her longingly, as if its peanut butter and jelly sandwich was about to escape with its glass of milk.

“Zara, go find Quillan and tell him to get his ass out here ASAP,” I said, no longer concerned about Knight's insistence on confidentiality. Quillan was a great cop and as far as I was concerned, we needed him. I needed him.

“Quillan?” Zara questioned like her brain had decided to take a vacation ... and at the most inopportune moment, I might add.

The vamp grabbed hold of her arm, and she screamed out against him in a terrified panic.

I didn't get a chance to respond.

“Already here, Dulce.” Quillan's familiar voice came from directly behind me and my entire body relaxed. I didn't have any time to figure out how he'd gotten here or when or where the hell he'd been hiding. I was too overcome with the pleasure of having him at my back, knowing how much easier it would be to take these miscreants down.

He took a few steps forward until he was parallel with me, and I could smell his Tommy Bahama aftershave. Holy Hades, I'd missed him.

“Let Zara go,” he said in his “don't screw with me” voice.

The vamp looked like he'd enjoy sinking his fangs into Quillan's neck but he released Zara’s arm. Zara didn't need another clue that she'd nearly been the beast's main entrée and turned on her stiletto heel, the sound of the door slamming behind her like music to my ears. The Ford started up and screeched from the driveway.

Zara was safe. And Quillan was here. The night was looking up.

“It's good to see you, Quill,” I offered, keeping my gaze trained on the vamp. “Can you keep the vamp and the gnome occupied while I cuff Pudgy?”

He didn’t answer so I glanced behind me and found Quillan's Op 7 aimed directly between my eyes.

“Sorry, Dulce, but no.”

NINETEEN

With Quillan's gun pointed between my eyes, I really wanted to believe he just had bad aim. But, unfortunately, the facts in this case were starting to align like the planets. The potions in the vault at Headquarters hadn’t been destroyed because Quillan was selling them to these idiots. All this time Quillan had been the in. How freaking stupid had I been? Well, if I managed to live through this, one thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t doubt myself again. It was a lesson I’d much rather have learned from an after-school special.

“Quillan?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Drop your weapon, Dulcie.”

Though I sensed a slight quake in his voice, the steel set of his eyes warned me not to argue or even try and pull a fast one on him. He knew me well enough to know the gamut of emotions running through my mind.

I didn't drop my Op 6, but Pudgy took it upon himself to step out from underneath the barrel of the gun with a satisfied smile, and I begrudgingly allowed him to. Then his smile turned ugly, and his eyes pinched at the ends as amusement fled his expression, giving way to anger.

He slammed his fist into my lower abdomen. Pain seared through me as though he'd shredded my intestines rather than just sucker-punched me. I reeled back, hitting the wall and gripped my stomach. The pain became too intense, and I succumbed, sliding down the wall to the ground.

Where the hell was Knight?

Pudgy pulled his leg back like he was about to lay his boot in my stomach, where he'd just introduced his fist, but Quillan grabbed him. “You lay one more finger on her, and I'll kill you myself,” he said, the truth of his words echoed in the ire of his eyes.

Pudgy hesitated, his boot issuing plenty of warning of its own as it hovered beside my still upset stomach. But then he backed away, apparently wanting no quarrel with Quillan and started for the opposite side of the room. I sat up and leaned against the wall, cradling my bruised gut as I took deep breaths. The bastard had landed a good shot.

“Dulcie, get up,” Quillan said, and I glanced up to find his gun still aimed at me. Any relief I'd encountered fled like a thief in the night as soon as I remembered I still had Quillan to deal with. I took one last deep breath and forced myself to my feet even though my stomach roiled against the insult.

“Kill her now,” the vamp said.

I glared daggers at him, but they just bounced off him like water on a freshly waxed car. Now that he was in a position of power, his true surliness was coming through. I'd figured he'd be a difficult one. Bastard.

“The Kragengen needs to feed,” the gnome said, raising his chin in my direction as if to say I should assume the role of first course.

I eyed the creature, and it began drooling at the mention of its next feeding. I couldn't help but imagine its multiple teeth grating away at my flesh. I glanced back at Quillan. “You better kill me first.”

“No one is feeding you to the Kragengen,” Quillan snapped, then eyed the others as if to reiterate his point. “I'm taking her into the bedroom so you three hang tight.” They chuckled at the mention of the bedroom. Quillan started forward then paused, turning to face them again. “I mean it. No one leaves this room.”

“Save a little for us,” the gnome called out.

I flipped him off before Quillan grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pushed me down the hall, unceremoniously thrusting me into the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

“Goddammit, Dulcie,” he admonished. “Talk about nearly blowing my cover.”

“Your cover?” I repeated angrily; how freaking dumb did he think I was?

A small smile skipped across his lips and he shook his head, apparently at my stupidity. “You didn’t actually think I was guilty, did you?”

Um, yeah I had and I still thought he was guilty, but the A.N.C motto was innocent until proven guilty. Guess I could give him the chance to explain.

“Okay, so what the hell are you doing working undercover on a case like this by yourself? Have you lost your mind?”

He kept his eyes on the door but that smile wouldn’t leave his lips. “This was a tough case to break, Dulce, so I did what I thought best.” He paused and then brought his attention to the window behind me. “Climb out the window and I’ll think of something to tell them.”

“I’m not leaving you here to tackle this alone. I’m staying,” I said, knowing the time for mindlessly believing in Quillan was long gone.

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

I was quiet as I reasoned with myself not to let my anger get the best of me. No, I would be level-headed and calm, cool and collected. “Quillan, look at me,” I said in a small voice. If I was a terrible liar, Quillan was just as bad. This would be the test that would tell the Hades-honest truth.

When he turned to face me, it was like he was moving in slow motion. And when his eyes met mine, his pupils were wide.

“Are you lying to me?”

He didn’t need to answer. The slight twitch in his left eye was answer enough. I lashed out and smacked him across the face with the palm of my hand.

“I thought I was your friend, Quillan.”

He gritted his teeth, but I didn't think his frustration or anger had anything to do with the fact that I'd just slapped him. He kept his gun trained on my forehead, and the red of my slap burned an imprint on his cheek. His jaw was tight. “I like to think we had more than a friendship, Dulcie.”

I wouldn't admit anything. Not when whatever I'd thought we had was as fragile as a balloon and Quillan was playing the role of the needle. “Whatever we had, Quillan, it's long gone now,” I said in a small voice. I swallowed against the tears that suddenly threatened my eyes.

I would not cry.

I would focus on the facts of this case and figure the damned thing out. It was all I had left. “So all those illegal potions I found in the vault at Headquarters … you never intended to destroy them because you were selling them all along.”

“How did you get in there? How did you know about …”

“Never mind that now,” I interrupted, holding up my hand to silence him. I stared at the black stains on the beige carpet, questions swarming through my mind like flies on a carcass.

“How are you involved in this?” For now, the personal part had to be shelved. All that remained were the dry, dirty facts. And as a good Regulator, I lived for those facts.

“Dulcie, please believe I never wanted anything to happen to you.” He dropped his eyes. “My feelings for you haven’t changed.”

“Well, in that case, why don't we forget about the fact that because of you, Fabian, Guy and Tad are dead, and let’s go get married,” I said, my eyes constricted. “Holy Hades, Quillan, you screwed up ... royally.”

Quillan nodded, and the emotion in his eyes dissipated, replaced by cold stone—as if he’d just had the misfortune of glancing at Medusa. He pointed to the mattress, his jaw even tighter than it had been before. “Sit down. I’m in charge and I’ll ask the questions.”

I took one look at the filthy mattress before returning my less-than-thrilled gaze back to Quillan. “I'm not getting anywhere near that thing. I don't care if you shoot me or not.”

He sighed. “Sit wherever. I don't have time to screw around with you right now, Dulce. In case you haven't noticed, we're in a grave situation.”

I sat down in the corner of the room and leaned my back up against the wall, exhaling with exhaustion. “Don't call me Dulce.” It was all I could think to say. Quillan wasn't my friend and truly, never had been. Only friends could call me by my nickname.

“How did you get here?” he asked.

“I never stopped working the case,” I started. “I guess you can say I'm good at my job. I just figured it out, and here I am.” I purposely omitted any references to Knight. Speaking of, where the hell was he? If he wanted to show up any time now, that'd be great. Damn men.

“Who helped you?”

Hmm, Dagan, Knight, even Bram a little. Trey, Sam ... the list went on. “You should know better than to ask me that question.” He knew the rules ... I'd been trained not to give up names—even under duress.

Quillan smiled. “I should never have expected less of you.”

I didn't return the smile. “Now, how about you answer some questions for me?”

He shook his head. “The less you know, the safer you are.”

I gave him a courtesy laugh. “You really don't think I'm just going to walk away from here? That vamp out there is dying to kill me. No pun intended. And if he doesn't get to do the job, the gnome looked pretty thrilled about taking it on himself and the human ...”

“No one will hurt you,” he interrupted, the pained expression on his face suggesting how much he disliked the thought of my death by anyone's hand. Touching ... but I didn't have time for this.

“I'll say you escaped.” He paused, as if deep in thought. “Dulcie, do the smart thing and pretend like you never came here tonight.”

“And what? Continue working with you? Knowing you're a criminal?” I could feel the anger simmering through me and burning my eyes. “We'll just continue going to lunch and making fun of Trey and acting like everything's hunky dory?”

“I'm done with Headquarters. Obviously, I can't go back.”

If I had anything to do with it, he would be going back to Headquarters, all right, but occupying a cell until the Netherworld figured out what to do with him. Even though I knew it had to be done, it wasn't a thought that brought me any sort of joy. “I want answers, Quillan. I'm not giving up on this.” I was probably signing my own death warrant, but it was too late for regrets. Guess I have a big mouth.

“Stand up,” Quillan said. “I'm going to break the window, and I want you to climb down and run out of here as fast as you can. Don't look back.”

I shook my head. “You should know me better than that.”

I wouldn't run away. I couldn't run away.

“Dulcie, for once don't be so pig-headed. I'm trying to buy your life. I don't want you getting hurt.”

He made the mistake of looking away, so I shot to my feet and jumped on him, knowing he couldn't shoot me ... well, hoping he couldn't shoot me. I pushed him into the wall, and we clamored against one another, me straining for the gun and him trying to hang onto it. Not wanting to alert the three stooges in the living room, I buffered our little tiff with a magic cloud so they couldn't hear a thing.

With a growl, Quillan flipped me over his shoulder. I hit the floor square on my back but not before trying to stabilize myself against the wall. Searing pain shot through the palm of my right hand. Glancing down, I saw the tell-tale signs of gold and glimpsed a rusty nail jutting from the line where the carpet met the wall. Damn, that was the hand I used to create fairy dust. Looked like I couldn’t rely on my magic for the rest of the night. Hades be damned!

Before I could roll out of the way, Quillan pinned me to the carpet. “Damn it, Dulce, listen to reason. I’m trying to save your ass.”

But I wasn't interested in him saving my ass. I was more interested in overpowering him. Even though he had me pinned, fairies are faster than elves. In a split second, I bucked him off and wrenched the gun from his grasp, trying to ignore the searing pain as the gun made contact with my ripped palm. Even if it hurt like a son of a bitch, at least I could close my hand around it. The night was looking up.

“Back off me,” I hissed and thrust the gun into his sternum.

Quillan must have been more afraid of me shooting him than I was of him shooting me, because his eyes widened as he pushed away from me. Then his gaze found the drops of gold falling from my palm like Rumpelstiltskin’s wet dream.

“You’re hurt.”

I pushed aside his concern with a shake of my head. “I want to know how long you've been working with these creeps.”

He swallowed, the mental conflict of whether to tell me or not playing out on his features like a classic movie. I had a feeling the barrel of the gun pointed at his face might influence his decision.

“A little over a year.”

“And tell me if I’m right—you killed Fabian and Guy because they were infringing on your turf?”

He shook his head and stood up. “No, I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“And how did you feel about the fact that even if you didn’t kill him directly, because of your involvement, Tad is dead? A kid, Quillan, he was just a kid.”

He dropped his head. “I didn’t want any of them dead. This whole situation went too far. The six of us were working together distributing illegal potions but Frank, the human, got greedy and decided to dust Fabian and Guy.”

“So why kill Tad? He wasn’t selling anything.”

“They killed him behind my back. He’d been at Guy’s when they’d put the hit out on Guy and Tad had seen Frank.”

I promised myself I’d see Frank dead. If it was the last thing I did, I would see him dead. I owed that much to Tad. “So Frank called the creature to kill all three of them?”

Quillan shook his head. “The vamp did—he has connections directly to the Netherworld. This all happened against my will, Dulcie, you have to believe me. I never wanted it to go this far.”

I wanted to believe him, but look where my trust had gotten me so far. “Looks like you got in way over your head,” I said and he nodded. “That's why you shouldn't have trusted them in the first place. God, Quillan, I never picked you for the dumb type.”

He swallowed, his face downcast, and disregarded my comment. “I never wanted anyone killed, Dulcie, and I never would've summoned the creature.”

“So why get involved in the first place, Quillan?”

“I’ve regretted it since the day I decided to do something with those potions. It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

I wasn’t interested in a regretful Quillan. I needed to get the details of the case more than anything else. “So you put the spell on Trey and you used an illegal ingredient so it would take us longer to crack it.”

He nodded. “I had to. The gnome is a sensitive so he was able to tell every time Trey had a vision. Frank wanted to put a hit out on Trey, but of course, I couldn't allow that. To keep Trey safe, I put him under the sleeping spell and told Frank I'd taken care of him. When the gnome didn't get any more hints that Trey was having visions, I guess they believed me.”

“And Frank put the hit out on me then that day in the woods outside my apartment?”

Quillan bobbed his head. “I had to tell him I was pretending to investigate the case with you. I guess he got scared and decided it was better to have you out of the picture.”

I remembered that night—how frightened I'd been, how Quillan had seemed so nonchalant, so unconcerned about what had been out there. Then I remembered the gremlins. “You ordered the gremlins?”

“Yes, when the Relations Office said you were on hiatus, I suggested they send gremlins to further protect you. I thought it would be a good idea.” Then he paused. “How did the Relations Office happen to know you were involved in this?”

I shrugged, feigning innocence. “I have no idea. That was my next question for you.” Ha, my acting was getting better and better.

“No idea.”

I sighed, figuring I knew as much as I needed to. Then I remembered Knight telling me to keep everyone in the living room and figured I should start corralling them. I waved the gun in a motion of “get up” and Quillan did as he was told. “We're going back into the living room. You walk in front of me and don't try anything because I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

He nodded solemnly. “There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?”

I shook my head. “Eight ball's sources say no.”

He laughed quietly but it was a sad sound. “I will miss you, Dulcie. Whatever happens, I'm going to miss you.”

I didn't care to think about what exactly he thought might happen or how ominous his words sounded. Whatever I'd felt for Quillan was in the process of being blocked up by an impervious wall, never to see the light of my emotions again.

“Okay, out you go,” I said, my voice hoarse with fatigue.

Just as soon as the words left my mouth, the lights twitched like they were blinking and then died, leaving us in total darkness. I grabbed Quillan's collar and pressed the cold nose of the gun into the back of his neck. “Don't do anything stupid.”

Seconds later, the sound of crashing glass shattered the still of the night, followed by scuffling, and I figured Knight had finally arrived. And it was about damned time.

I pushed Quillan forward, the gun still threatening his lower neck just as two gunshots rang out. My heart in my throat, I continued pushing Quillan into the hallway and down the long corridor. It seemed like it took years to get out of the hallway and emerge into the living room.

In the darkness, I could just make out the shapes of two large lumps on the floor. It took my fairy vision a second to kick in, but once it did, I realized the gnome and the human were dead, a single bullet wound in each of their heads. Two points for Knight. Then I suddenly realized Knight, the creature and the vamp were nowhere to be found.

“Who's with you?” Quillan asked.

“No one you need to concern yourself with.”

Thinking Knight had gone outside to battle against them, I pushed Quillan toward the door, imagining I could walk him to the Wrangler and hogtie him with some horsehair rope in my trunk. The rope would keep him from using his magic to escape—horses' hair being one of the few substances immune to magic.

“You and I are going to go for a quick walk,” I said.

Quillan didn't say anything but stepped over the shards of broken glass that used to be the living room doors and jumped onto the dirt below. I was directly behind him. When we hit the ground, he started walking a bit too fast for my comfort. “Slow the hell down.”

He didn't slow down but, instead, took off running. I had the split-second thought to shoot him in the leg but the dragon blood bullets in his gun would kill him as soon as they made contact with his blood. And I definitely didn’t want to kill him, so I started after him, running full bore. There weren't any fences or anything else that might slow Quillan down—just a hill with a clear path to the highway below, and a few pepper trees dotting the landscape.

“Quillan, I WILL shoot you,” I yelled.

Surprisingly, he stopped and held his hands up, turning around to face me. If I thought he was surrendering, the little smile pulling at his lips made me think otherwise. I was prohibited from any other thoughts as a maniacal laugh pierced the air. Quillan and I glanced at each other, question marks clearly emanating from each of our eyes.

“Goddammit!”

Knight.

Knight's voice was followed by the sound of someone landing on the ground ... hard. I could only hope it wasn't him.

“Let me go, Dulcie. It sounds like your friend is in over his head.”

Maybe Knight was in over his head. I tightened my grip around the gun, ignoring the thundering pain in my hand. But if Knight wasn't in over his head, I'd be making a crucial mistake.

“I'm not letting you go,” I said, hoping Knight could take care of himself. He had said he was as strong as three men. But that hadn't included a vamp and they were renowned for their physical strength. And the creature wasn’t anything to scoff at either.

Quillan started walking backward. “Let me go, Dulcie, it's a lot easier than killing me.”

I kept the Op 7 aimed on him but he continued to back away. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t just resort to using magic—he could’ve escaped me a lot easier by surrounding me in a thick fog or just becoming invisible. Instead, he was playing by the rules. Admirable. “Stop walking now.”

“Dulcie, you know if you take me into custody, the Netherworld will order me dead. I can't have that. I'd hope you wouldn't want it either.”

Damn him to hell. Of course I didn't want his blood on my hands. But I had to let justice run its course. “Stop walking, Quillan.”

He didn't, and I squeezed the trigger ever so slightly. He was within range. If I hit him, I'd definitely kill him. And it was at that moment I realized I couldn't do it. As much as I hated admitting it, I still cared for Quillan and I couldn't kill him. The sound of grunting and fists meeting flesh assaulted my ears. I had to make my choice. Either go after Quillan or help Knight.

The choice was already made. I lowered the gun and Quillan smiled gratefully.

“I'll make it up to you, Dulce.”

“I don't ever want to see your face again. You were lucky this time; you won't be lucky next time.”

He didn't respond but turned away and started down the hill, disappearing into the distance. Fighting the soreness in my gut, I prepared to confront a more important subject—Knight.

TWENTY

I didn’t have time to regret letting Quillan go.

Another loud grunt sliced the tranquility of the evening air, pulling my attention to the fact that Knight might be in trouble. I took a deep breath and cocking Quillan’s Op 7, started in the direction of the muffled sounds.

More grunts and swearing, then the definite sound of fists pounding flesh led me to the grisly scene. Blood splattered the ground, the moonlight reflecting on it like spilled oil. Knight was caught between the vamp and the Kragengen shifter, doing his best to keep them both at arm’s length.

The vamp lashed his dagger-like fingernails out, but Knight ducked, the blades just missing his throat. The rise and fall of Knight's chest bore witness to the fact that they'd been at this for a while—this pattern of thrust and parry.

Using the girth of a nearby pepper tree, I managed to hide my body and regroup, wiping my still bleeding palm on my jeans. I needed a plan—I couldn't just charge in or I'd be done ... that or Knight would be. Okay, second idea: maybe I could get off a good shot and nail the creature. The dragon blood bullets would kill it. And the vampire? Before jumping to extremes, I examined the bullets in the chamber. They weren't dragon blood bullets, but just standard lead ones. And those wouldn't kill a vampire or a shape-shifter—they’d just piss them off. Goddammit!

But bullets would stun them and buy me some precious seconds; maybe enough to give Knight the upper hand? I really hoped so.

Knight pushed against the vamp, barreling him into a tree. The vamp hissed out and sliced his cheek with a rake of his claws. Blood immediately began coursing down the harsh planes of Knight's face. The creature just paced along the sidelines and watched.

Much though I wanted to take out the vamp, I couldn’t get a clear shot at him without the possibility of hitting Knight and those were odds I wasn’t about to take. Double goddammit.

So instead, I watched idly—waiting for an opportunity to strike. The Kragengen, apparently unsatisfied with just being a spectator, lurched at Knight. It raised a clawed paw as if to strike. But he deflected the attack and with a push, catapulted the creature toward my pepper tree.

It hit the trunk with a resounding thud then plopped onto the ground, shaking its head. It got up on all fours almost immediately. I sprang from behind the tree, my gun aimed at its temple. I squeezed the trigger and the Kragengen’s body shook as it landed on the ground. It was still. Well, dragon blood bullets or not, a bullet to the head should’ve been enough to seriously incapacitate it. Eyeing it, I unloaded another two bullets into its head. Hey, I wasn’t taking any chances.

“That’s enough!” I yelled at the vamp. “Step away from my partner.”

The vamp smirked and spat a bloody clot, revealing a tooth. Ew.

“Dulcie, get the hell away from the …” Knight started before the vamp took advantage of Knight's shift in attention and sucker-punched the side of his head, sending him flying three feet into the air. Knight hit the ground with a grunt but rolled back onto his feet.

I aimed the Op 7 at the vampire’s head and was about to squeeze off a shot when something smashed into me, sending me flying. I dropped the gun. When I hit the ground, I had to force myself upright. But I was too late. The Kragengen straddled me. I pushed against its chest, trying to keep its mouth from my throat. The tear in my palm burned as the gold of my blood stained the creature’s coat.

Without my magic, this was hopeless. I didn’t have the strength to keep it from tearing me apart. Feeling my arms weaken, I heaved against the beast, and using the quickness inherent in my species, rolled out of the Kragengen’s grasp.

I stood up and faced the creature, panting as drops of blood coursed down my open palm.

“Face me as a woman,” I screamed, thinking any chance I had of taking it would require it to be in human form. “Woman to woman.”

The creature seemed to smile—its teeth reflecting the moonlight. It stood before me on all fours and like a great, rumbling bear, stood up on its hind legs until it towered over me.

“Dulcie!” It was Knight but I couldn’t spare him a glance.

“Fight me like a woman,” I repeated, this time softer.

The Kragengen just stood there, staring at me. It took me a second to realize it was shifting—the crude hair on its body began to recede back into its skin, leaving nothing but a smooth palate of porcelain. Its rib cage seemed to fold in on itself until it had a definite waist flanked by large breasts on one side and generous hips on the other.

As the creature shifted into its human counterpart, it dropped in height. Its shark-like teeth recessed into the cavity of its mouth until only a set of human teeth smiled out at me. When it was finished metamorphosing, the beautiful redhead beamed at me … naked.

Okay, so I’d never had to fight a naked person before. I guess there’s always a first.

The creature’s attention fell to my dripping palm. “You don’t have your magic.”

I didn’t feel the need to agree and instead, turned to the fact that, human form or not, her strength easily out powered mine.

I was done.

As if to prove my point, she lurched for me and with a push, sent me careening into the tree behind me. I hit my head against the bark and had to shake my vision free of stars. That’s when I was able to glance at Knight who was on his back, the vampire sucking at his throat.

“Knight!” I screamed.

There wasn’t an answer.

Tears threatened my eyes but I blinked them away. I couldn’t focus on the loss of someone I now considered a friend. I had to face the fact that I was next and I had to do something about it.

I pulled my attention back to the Kragengen just as it pounced. It threw its full weight into me and smashed my head against the bark. Holding my neck against the tree with its forearm, I could smell flesh on its breath. Its eyes found the pulse in my neck and it stood transfixed. That’s when I realized that in its human form or not, there was nothing even remotely human about this creature. It was wild.

Its eyes found mine as its mouth opened and its teeth elongated. Without any warning, it buried its face into my lower neck. The feel of its teeth perforating my skin was nothing compared to the agony as it bit through my collarbone.

I screamed and it released me.

I sunk down the line of the tree and collapsed against the ground.

This was it. I was going to die.

I glanced up at Knight and found him still lying prostrate against the ground, his throat open and gaping. The vamp was no longer feeding from him though. Instead, it was making its way toward me.

I didn’t flinch as the vamp grasped my head and pulled it back, revealing my neck. He was on me instantly, tearing through my flesh like a kid ripping through wrapping paper on Christmas morning. The creature joined the feast with renewed energy and buried its face into my side, its teeth gnashing my flesh.

This was not the way I’d planned to go.

I fisted my hand and prayed my magic would work even with a ripped palm. I shook it and focused hard, focused on those little specks of fairy magic that would see me through this. I reopened my palm and noted nothing but the gold of my blood.

Dulcie.

It was Knight’s voice in my head. I glanced over at the heap of inanimate pile that was Knight.

So now I was losing so much blood, I was losing my mind.

I’m going to heal you. You have to let me into your mind like you did in your dreams.

But you’re dead, I thought.

No, I’m not. Let me inside your head, Dulcie. Once your palm is healed, I want you to envision a stake and aim it over the vamp’s heart. Can you do that?

Yeah.

I closed my eyes, thinking it might help.

And then I felt him. It was like liquid heat rising up through my body. Every appendage stung with what felt like electricity. I opened my eyes, thinking the vamp and the creature must have felt it too but they were both too busy feeding on me to notice. I glanced at my palm and the wound was gone.

I closed my eyes again and shook my fist, imagining a wooden stake. Dust flowed between my fingers and I wanted to cry. It had worked! Somehow it had worked.

I rotated the stake in my hand and moving slowly, so as not to alert the vamp, I held the stake directly before his chest.

It’s there, I thought, hoping Knight was still listening.

I opened my eyes and watched Knight sit up, his neck no longer a gaping wound, but smooth as if it had never suffered the insult in the first place. He moved quickly until he was directly behind the vamp. With a smile at me, he shoved the vamp from behind until the stake buried itself deep into the vamp’s chest. The vamp’s eyes widened as they met mine and then he merely collapsed onto the ground beside me.

His eyes went vapid, the life slipping out of them as his body and face rapidly aged, decades going by in mere seconds. When his body stopped morphing, an old man lay before me.

The Kragengen gave a cry of alarm and turned away from me, facing Knight.

I stood up, feeling slightly woozy and watched Knight turn to face the creature.

“No, this is my fight,” I said.

Knight smiled and backed away from the creature who faced me with renewed interest.

“Come here, you ugly bitch,” I seethed.

The Kragengen started to shift back to its true state, wiry fur unfolding down its body. It doubled in size and waved its paws through the air as massive claws sprouted from them like bulbs breaking through soil.

I fisted my palm and shook it. Then I blew the glittery particles toward the creature, imagining a roaring inferno. Once the particles hit the creature’s fur, they erupted into flames of orange.

Knight backed away as the creature began to howl and dance around in a circle, fueling the intensity of the flames. In only a few more minutes, it was an incendiary and a couple minutes later, it toppled to the ground and the flames went out.

“Nicely done,” Knight said with an appreciative grin.

I just nodded and fell back against the tree.

Knight was beside me momentarily. “I wasn’t able to completely heal you.”

I collapsed into his outstretched arms.

“Let me inside your head again.”

I closed my eyes and welcomed the heat as it poured through my body. The stinging, electrical sensation seemed to focus on my collarbone and side.

“That’s about all I can do. You’ll need to sleep well and eat lots of protein for the next few weeks to get all your strength back.”

I opened my eyes and offered him a smile. “I hope you know I’m keeping track of all your many abilities.”

Knight chuckled. “What do you say we get the hell out of here?”

He didn’t wait for a response but scooped me into his arms and stood.

“What about the bodies?” I asked.

“I’ll call for backup.”

At the mention of backup, of calling Headquarters, the fact that I’d let Quillan escape came back to haunt me. I could tell it was going to keep on haunting me. I shouldn’t have been so soft. I should’ve taken him in. Shoulda woulda coulda.

“That reminds me,” I started before taking a breather. I definitely wasn’t feeling myself. “All this talk about confidentiality and getting me dropped off the team at Headquarters …”

Knight raised an eyebrow like he had no idea where my questions were leading.

“You knew all along that someone from Headquarters was involved, didn’t you?”

He grinned. “Confidential.”

I couldn’t help my laugh, weak though it was.

Knight glanced at me. “What happened to Quillan?”

I gulped down my own sense of failed responsibility. “He got away.”

***

Two days later, as I ambled into Headquarters, I might as well have been the Virgin Queen of England for all the whispering and knowing looks I aroused. I’d never liked being the center of attention so I hurried to my desk until I got too winded and walked the rest of the way.

Trey was at his desk but I didn’t acknowledge him, just dropped my backpack on the floor and started up my computer, relaxing into my chair.

“You okay, Dulce?”

I glanced at him and nodded although I still wasn’t feeling myself. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If you need to … talk to anyone, I’m always free.”

I smiled, thinking Trey had definitely turned out to be a better coworker than I’d thought he would. “Thanks, Trey, I might take you up on that.”

The unmistakable sound of Sam’s heels tapping down the corridor heralded her arrival. I glanced at her with an encouraging smile and a wave of my hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Sam’s eyes were wide and her mouth twitching—something she always did when she was nervous. She hesitated only momentarily before throwing her arms around me. “God, I was so worried. I wanted to come see you—why didn’t you answer your phone?”

I sighed. “I guess I just needed some alone time.”

Sam nodded. “I can’t believe Quillan! I can’t believe he lied to us all!”

I still couldn’t believe it myself. The truth of the matter was that I hadn’t been able to sleep, remorse plaguing my every thought. I shouldn't have let him go—that’s what it came down to. I was, before anything else, a Regulator. And as a Regulator, my first and foremost duty was to apprehend criminals, but I’d let Quillan slip through my fingers.

I stopped berating myself as Elsie's voice interrupted.

“Guys, the chief of the Relations Office is here!”

I glanced at Trey and Sam, who stared vacantly back at me.

“He wants us all to meet in the conference room,” Elsie insisted and clapped her hands together as if to tell us to hurry when none of us made any motion to do anything.

I followed Trey and Sam into the conference room where I was ushered to a seat at the end of the conference table. Trey tried to take the seat and Elsie shooed him out of it, beaming at me instead.

I wasn’t a hero and I didn’t want to be treated like one.

Nonetheless, I took the seat with a lukewarm smile as if to say “thanks” and turned to the sound of the door opening. Knight strolled in, dressed in black, as beautiful as he ever was. Damn, the man was sexy as sin!

Then I noticed the smaller man next to him—maybe five feet eight inches, fifty years old or close to it, receding hairline, and thick glasses. So this was the Chief of the Relations Office, come from the Netherworld? Rhetorical question.

Knight eyed me and gave me a grin; I was embarrassed and looked away. I didn't want anyone to think I was getting preferential treatment. I was just another Regulator and that was that. Knight took the seat next to me and the Chief assumed the seat at the head of the table. Elsie fluttered about offering coffee.

“Well, let's get started,” the Chief said. “For those of you who haven't met me,” none of us had, “I'm Chief Sterno and I run the Relations Office in Hildoff, Netherworld. It's my pleasure to be here today to meet all of you.”

He glanced at every one of us while we murmured our “happy to see you toos” and I felt like it was my first day at school.

“I'm sure you've heard of the unfortunate situation involving the previous Chief of Headquarters so I won't get into that,” Sterno continued. “I do want you to know we are doing our best to find a replacement.”

There were a round of nods and sighs.

“In the meantime, Knightley Vander will be substituting, just until we find a permanent replacement,” the Chief finished.

“Please call me Knight,” the Loki clarified.

I glanced around and noticed all the females openly admiring him. Ugh.

“Knightley?” Trey whispered, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Watch it,” I grumbled, wondering if my poor side would ever heal.

“His name isn't Todd?”

“No,” I whispered back, frowning. I hadn't wanted to lie to Trey and hopefully he wouldn't take our mis-truth as a slight. “We didn't want to put you in harm's way so we had to withhold his true identity.”

“He really wasn't your friend at all?” His expression was crestfallen.

“No, he forced me to secrecy, Trey.” When all else fails, blame someone else.

Trey just nodded. Meanwhile, the fact that Knight was going to be my boss, if only temporarily, was starting to sink in. I couldn't say I liked it. In fact, I didn't like it at all. I'd gotten a taste of Knight's mode of leadership, and it wasn't one I wished to repeat.

“So please welcome Knight,” the Chief finished.

Everyone clapped.

Knight smiled and raised his hands as if to quiet the room. “I'm Knight, as the Chief said, and it's great to meet all of you.”

A few sighs from the ladies in the room. I just shook my head.

“Today is not only about introductions, though,” Knight continued. “I also have a bit of good news.” He paused and glancing at me, pasted a huge grin on his face.

“I'm not sure if you are all aware, but Dulcie O'Neil worked with me on this case.” There were a round of oohs and aahs. I didn't like the direction of the conversation but there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

“And because of her courage, we were both able to escape. I just wanted to announce that I'm promoting Dulcie O’Neil to the position of Head Regulator.”

Another round of claps, and I felt as if I’d been slapped. Surprise overtook me, and when I met Knight's grin, I resisted the urge to walk out. No one in the room should've been congratulating me. I didn't deserve a promotion. As far as I was concerned, I'd failed miserably.

“Thank you,” I said in a small voice, trying to pretend that nothing was the matter, that I was as thrilled as everyone else. It was a hard order and I'm not sure I succeeded.

Sam hugged me, and Trey looked like he was biting back tears. Holy Hades.

After the meeting disbanded, and I'd had about all the pats on the back I could take, I followed Knight into Quillan's old office. Quillan's name plate still hung on the door, and I had to drop my eyes. It made me feel oddly sad.

Knight took a seat in the large, brown leather chair and cracked his knuckles. “How’s your side?”

“It’s fine.”

He nodded. “Dulce, what can I do for you?”

I didn't know how to say it, so I just reached inside my pocket and handed him the envelope.

He took it with a smile but the smile soon disappeared as soon as he started reading. “What is this?” he demanded and dropped the letter onto the desk as if it had just bitten him.

I sighed. “My letter of resignation.”

TWENTY-ONE

“Resignation?” Knight repeated, his eyes fixed on the surface of his desk ... Quillan's desk.

“You shouldn't have promoted me,” I said and collapsed into the large leather chair across from Knight's. Eyeing Quillan's office fern, I rubbed the fronds between my fingers as a wave of sadness coursed over me.

Knight chuckled. “Usually people are thrilled to get promoted.” He leaned forward, propping his chin on his fist. “You deserved it and more.”

I shook my head and sighed. I'd have to tell him sooner or later. “Quillan didn't escape.”

Knight's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth twitched as his eyes searched mine like a hawk's. This wasn't going to be fun.

“Go on.”

I inhaled. “I let him go.”

Knight reclined in the leather chair again, and bobbed back and forth, the chair groaning in protest underneath him. Surprisingly, he didn't look angry—he didn't look anything at all, really. “As far as I see it, you didn't have a choice. It was him or me.”

I nodded—that was fair enough.

“And you chose me.” He stopped rocking. “And I will forever be grateful to you. Although I’m aware you don't want to hear it, Dulcie, you were a hero that night.”

“You don’t understand, Knight.” I paused, fumbling to find the right words, trying to justify my own cowardice. “I just ... just couldn't shoot him.”

Knight shrugged. “No one blames you for that.” He paused, distractedly picking up a pen and started doodling on Quillan's desk calendar.

“You should blame me for that,” I said.

“Quillan must've known you wouldn't shoot him, or he wouldn't have left it as your only option.”

Okay, he had another point there. I stood up and started pacing the room, hating the fact that the air still smelled of Quillan's aftershave, that everything in this office reminded me of Quillan and made me miss him. I stopped pacing to find Knight smiling with amusement.

“Either way, Knight, I don't deserve the promotion. I failed in my duties and ... I'm sorry but I'm resigning my post.” I crossed my arms against my chest.

Knight stood up, his intimate gaze never breaking from mine, and approached me. I backed away.

“I won't let you quit.”

I laughed involuntarily. “You don't have a choice.”

I dropped myself back into the visitor's chair, and he braced himself against the edge of Quillan's desk, still fidgeting with the pen. “You're the best person on my team. I can't afford to lose you.”

“I'm sorry, but ...” I shook my head. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and dropped the pen against the desk. “What are you going to do for work then?”

I hadn't thought that far ahead. “I don't know.”

He arched a brow. “Not a very good plan, Dulce.”

I sighed, annoyed with myself. “I guess I could go back to waiting tables for a while—just until I find something better.”

He nodded, but the concerned lines in his forehead said he was anything but optimistic. “And what would that something better be?” he asked.

I just shrugged.

“You belong in law enforcement, Dulce, it's in your blood. I've seen you out there and you love it ... just as much as I do. You’ll never be happy doing anything else.”

Okay, it’s super annoying when someone claims to know you better than you know yourself. Although I had enjoyed my job, there were a myriad of other things I liked better—writing being the first and foremost. But I didn’t want to admit that to him.

“Well, I won't be happy here either. Maybe I'll move from Splendor and live somewhere else.”

“Don’t you realize you can't run away from things? No matter where you go, they'll eventually find you until you confront them.”

My hands started to contract into fists. Since when had Knight become Dr. Phil? “Are you done? I want to go now.”

Knight was quiet for a few moments, and his silence unsettled me more than his cockiness. Finally, he sighed and stood up, gazing out the window that overlooked Splendor Park. “I can't change your mind?”

“No.”

He turned to face me again, his hands seeking solace in his pockets. “Then, I want you to work as a consultant.”

“What?”

“When I need you for a particularly difficult case, I want to be able to call on you. You won't have to come to the office but you'll be on call should I need you.”

I started to adamantly shake my head.

“Please, Dulce, just until I can find your replacement. If you don't want to do it for me, do it for the team.”

I bit my lip. Do if for the team; what a great line. Damn him. “You're a real bastard, you know?”

He smiled. “It's gotten me this far.”

I gulped down my protest and laughed, but it was a courtesy laugh. I should've known Knight would force the issue. “Okay, okay. Can I go now?”

“Not just yet.” He was silent as a smirk curled his lips. “One more thing ...”

I frowned. “What?”

His eyes searched the ceiling as the smile on his lips broadened. “Now that we aren't officially working together and you’re no longer my subordinate ...”

As if I ever was his subordinate! Holy Hades, the man was narcissistic.

“Yes, what?” I impatiently demanded.

“I want to ask you out to dinner.”

My mouth gaped in astonishment. “Like a date?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, a date. I imagine I wasn’t the only one of us to feel … a connection?”

A connection wasn’t exactly what I’d call it. And that reminded me ... a moment I'd been looking forward to had arrived at last. The wheels of my brain began spinning with delight. “That's right, I haven't made true on my promise to torture you yet, have I?”

“Torture me?” he chuckled.

“Hmm,” I tapped my chin, wondering where to start. “Yeah, don’t you remember your little reaction to the creature juice?'“

He studied me with a bewildered expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Ah, of course you don't remember. How convenient. You turned into quite the horn dog after Sam made us swallow that potion.”

Knight dropped his stare, but a smile crested over his lips. Oh, he remembered all right. “Yeah, um, about that ...”

“‘Chains and blindfolds’ is a direct quote,” I continued, savoring this as much as I promised myself I would.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said, his eyes begging me to stop.

I stood up. Even though Knight was gorgeous, he was one cocky bastard. “Thanks for the invitation, but I'm going to pass.”

He couldn't keep the surprise from registering on his face. So Knight wasn't used to rejection? Even better then that he should get it from me.

I started for the door, valuing the expression on his face as priceless. I paused with my hand on the doorknob and turned to face him for the last time. “Give me a call when you get a tough case.”

Then I opened the door and walked out.

***

One month later, I'd finished my Bram book. Now it was time to try and recruit an agent. If I said I wasn't excited about going through the process again, it would be an understatement. But unfortunately, I had to do what I had to do.

After finishing my query letter and a five-page synopsis, I compiled the list of agent names and e-mail addresses and began the task of e-mailing my queries. After an hour, I'd managed to get through the entire list and sat back in my chair, heaving an exhausted sigh.

I was proud of this book—I'd put a lot of time and effort into it. And Bram ... well, without him, I wouldn't have had a book at all. Thinking I should probably let him know I'd finished it and was now trying to find an agent to represent it, I called No Regrets.

Angela answered the phone and was quick to connect me with Bram.

“Sweet,” he said, with genuine surprise.

“Hi, Bram, I wanted to let you know I finished the book.”

“Ah, did you? That is very good news. What is next?”

“Well, I'm trying to get an agent to represent it and if I find one, he or she will pitch it to the publishing houses.”

“I wish you much luck, Sweet.” He paused. “Regarding that favor you owe me ...”

I knew that favor would yield its ugly head sooner or later. “Yes?”

“I would like to escort you to dinner tomorrow evening, if that suits you.”

“You want to take me on a date?” I laughed. “Really, Bram, I would've thought owing you a favor would turn out to be a much bigger pain in my ass than that!”

Bram chuckled. “Well, I am flattered to think you regard a date with me as not a ... pain in your posterior. Are you free tomorrow evening?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall pick you up at nine p.m. Please dress with elegance.”

“Okay, Bram, I'll see you tomorrow.”

He hung up and it suddenly dawned on me that Sam might not find this arrangement especially pleasing. Ugh, I hadn't even considered her feelings before I'd agreed. Dammit. I dialed her number.

“Hello?”

“Sam, it's Dulcie.”

“Hey, girl, what's going on?”

I gulped down my guilt. “Nothing. I just got off the phone with Bram, and he invited me to dinner to celebrate my finishing the book.” I paused. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it? If not, I won’t go.”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah, I'm fine. I always knew he had the hots for you anyway ...”

“No, it's not like that, Sam.”

She laughed. “Whatever you're convincing yourself, it is like that and no, I'm not bothered by it at all. I'm over Bram.” She paused. “Actually, I’m thrilled to hear you’ll be going on a date. This will be your first in what?”

“A year,” I grumbled.

“Wow. Yes, go and enjoy yourself! And don’t worry about me.”

I sighed in relief. “Okay, thanks. How are things with you?”

“Good, everything at work is good.” She started to laugh. “All the women are in love with Knight.”

I smiled, figuring such would be the case. I was sure Knight was in hog heaven, the bastard. “Well, I'm glad to hear everything is fine with you.”

“Yeah, it is.” She paused. “I miss Quill.”

Quill.

Just the mention of his name caused an indescribable sorrow that I felt deep in my gut. “I do too.”

***

For my evening with Bram, I'd chosen to wear a mid-thigh length, black cocktail dress with black beading that reflected the lights and sparkled like a prism. It was really tight and I’d only worn it two times in the four years I'd owned it. Guess I didn't get out much. I'd finished it off with three-inch black leather stiletto boots and magicked a little curl into my hair, which of course, I wore down. Some pink lipstick, a touch of blush and a few strokes of mascara completed the look.

It felt good to be going out on a date, even if I didn’t think Bram and I would ever be a couple. But I was now convinced that I needed to defeat my trust issues and what better way than to throw myself back into the dating game?

When we arrived at The Chateaus, Bram pulled out my chair from the table, and I could feel the shudder of his gaze as it traveled over me with quiet appreciation.

“I have never seen you look so enchanting, Sweet. I am honored you chose to appear in such a way for me.”

I smiled, not exactly comfortable with this date stuff. I watched Bram assume his seat, and then I let my eyes wander over the restaurant. The Chateaus was in nearby Sanctity. It was the nicest place to eat and I had to admit I was pretty flattered.

Candle glow illuminated the otherwise dark interior and contrasted against the pristine white of the table linens and chairs in flickering shadows.

“This place looks just like your office,” I said with a smirk.

Bram chuckled. “It is just missing some red.”

I returned my gaze to his. “What's up with your accent, Bram? You haven't been to England in over a century.”

His grin deepened, the tips of his fangs just protruding over his bottom lip. “I was wondering when the Sweet I knew so well would surface.” Apparently, not wanting to enlighten me on the particulars of his counterfeit accent, he changed the subject. “Any more word on the book?”

I shook my head. “Nothing yet. Any word on the Chinese massage parlor?”

“Yes, I've purchased it. I plan to open a restaurant to top even this one.”

“Big ambitions.”

He nodded. “Of course, Sweet, of course.”

“So Dagan was never after your massage parlor?”

Bram tapped his long fingers along the stem of his wine glass, reminding me that vampires didn't eat. They had no problem with liquids, but food wasn't something they were capable of digesting. Guess I'd be dining alone tonight. Strange that Bram would've invited me out to dinner in the first place. Hmm, he must've really wanted to get into my pants.

“I believe Dagan was after it, but I beat him to the punch. He is in the process of purchasing the dark arts store.”

I nearly choked on my water. “Fabian's?”

“Yes, Sweet, the very same.”

I’m not sure why but Dagan owning Fabian’s just seemed … wrong. Not that I’d been fond of the cretin Fabian at all.

“Sweet, No Regrets is throwing a party in honor of my birthday at the end of the month. I do hope you will attend?”

I’d forgotten about his three hundredth birthday. I smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

The uneven grin on Bram’s lips hinted to his unspoken thoughts. “It would please me greatly if you … attended as my date.”

Hmm, another date with Bram? It would be beneficial to remain on his good side, especially in light of the fact that his three hundredth birthday would see him as much more powerful than he now was. And furthermore, he was nice to look at … and I was trying to work on dating more. “I’d be happy to,” I repeated.

An hour later, I'd finished a third of my steak, declined dessert, and now Bram and I stood outside my apartment.

“I had a lovely time, Sweet,” Bram said. “I hope you will allow me to take you out again?”

“Maybe.” I guess I was feeling magnanimous. I actually had enjoyed myself, and Bram's company had been agreeable. Hmm, why the hell not go out with him again?

“I suppose a maybe is better than a no,” Bram said with a twinkle in his eye.

I just smiled. “Thanks, Bram, I had a good time.”

“My pleasure, Sweet,” he said and stepped closer until maybe an inch of air separated us. He wanted to kiss me; I could see it in his eyes. And I couldn't say the idea was such a bad one.

He tilted his head and caught my lips softly, his arms wrapping around me as I opened my mouth. He was a good kisser—gentle and slow. But one kiss was enough for me. I pulled away from him with a little smile.

He stepped away, and his eyes burned with passion. “I have wanted to do that for a long while.”

It was the same thing Quillan had said after he'd kissed me. Great—another memory to depress me. Trying to shake the thoughts of Quillan from my head, I pried myself from Bram’s embrace, and started for my apartment. “Have a good night, Bram.”

“I will call you soon,” he said, and I knew he meant it.

What I thought about it? I wasn't sure. Not something I had to worry about now, though.

I unlocked my door, walking into the house. When I went to close it behind me, I found him still standing in the same position, just watching me. I gave him a little wave and locked the door.

Throwing my purse onto the couch, I unzipped my boots and tossed them carelessly onto the floor. I plodded over to the computer and turned it on, deciding to check my e-mail.

I had one new message. It was from Great Fiction Agency. My heart started jack hammering in my chest as I clicked the e-mail open and dropped myself into the desk chair.

Dear Ms. O'Neil,

I would be happy to read the first three chapters of your paranormal romance, A Vampire and A Gentleman. Please send it as an e-mail attachment.

Kind Regards,

Barbara Mandley

Great Fiction Agency

Finally, someone was showing interest ... it was about damned time.

TWENTY-TWO

It was seven p.m., and I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so when a knock sounded on the door, I was understandably taken by surprise. Peering through the peephole, I found Knight standing on my doorstep.

With an exasperated sigh, I opened the door.

A smile lit up his face. If I’d thought our month’s separation would make him any less handsome, I was sorely mistaken. Holy Hades—the man should’ve been a model.

I eyed him suspiciously. “This is a surprise.” It was a surprise and even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, it was a nice surprise. There was definitely a part of me that really liked Knight.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing,” he said with an embarrassed smile. Clearly he hadn’t been in the neighborhood.

“Is that so?” I arched a brow but opened the door wide and he stepped inside. He smelled of soap—a clean, fresh fragrance.

“How are you?” he asked, still acting a bit awkward. It was a role I’d never seen him assume and one I liked.

“I’m fine. How are you?”

He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Good, I’m good.” He was quiet for a second as his gaze roamed my living room before settling back on me. “Are you busy tonight?”

I guess I felt sorry for him because I shook my head. Any nervousness in Knight fled as soon as I did so and was replaced with a beaming smile.

“I’ll be your entertainment for the evening then.” He clapped his hands together as if the entertainment had already begun.

“Entertainment?” I asked, sounding less than thrilled as I locked the door behind me.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Great, can I take you to dinner?”

I laughed at the eagerness in his voice. “I thought I already told you I wasn’t interested in going on a date with you?”

“Well, this isn’t a date.”

“Oh, then what is it?”

He smiled that charming smile of his, and I knew something interesting was about to come out of his mouth. “Think of it as networking,” Knight continued as I started for the kitchen and he followed me. I poured myself a glass of water and watched him pull out a chair and straddle it.

“Networking?”

He laughed, and a stray tendril of hair that had a tendency to drop in front of his eyes, did exactly that. I had to suppress the nagging urge to secure it behind his ear.

“I have a job for you,” he said simply. Then standing up, eyed me from head to toe with a definite smirk.

“What?” I asked, nonplussed.

“Go change. I want to take you somewhere nice.”

Figuring I didn’t have a choice, I headed for my bedroom with a long and dramatic sigh. If Knight noticed, he didn’t comment. Closing the door behind me, I sorted through my less than impressive closet and settled on a short, flouncy black skirt and a long-sleeved red blouse. Not wanting to take the time to do my makeup, I just magicked myself some red lipstick, eye liner and mascara and throwing on my black leather jacket and high heels, headed for the living room.

A huge smile lit Knight’s lips upon seeing me, and I could feel my cheeks burning with a visible blush. So much for trying to act nonchalant.

“You look great.” He paused, as if not able to check me out and talk at the same time.

“Thanks,” I shrugged. “So about this job?”

“Let’s talk about it in the car.”

I grinned and opened the door, immediately spotting the brand new, silver BMW parked in front of my apartment. It was the nicest car on the street.

“Yours?” I asked, motioning to the car with a tilt of my chin as I locked the front door behind us.

A boyish grin spread over his lips as he stood gazing at the vehicle. Men and their cars.

“Just got it last week. What do you think?”

“Pretty posh.” At the expression of pride on his face, I begrudgingly forced myself to show more interest. “What model?”

“BMW M3 Coupe.” He said it like a proud father.

He unlocked the BMW with his remote and hurried down the steps before me, showing me to the passenger seat with a great sweep of his arm. I was just waiting for him to break into song and dance.

“Yeah, I always wanted a BMW, and I figured I might be here for a while,” he finished as I pulled my legs into the passenger seat and buckled myself in.

His eyes lingered on my legs, and I self consciously smoothed my skirt down. Then he seemed to remember himself and started for his side of the car. He got in and settled himself comfortably into the driver’s seat.

“I thought you were just here until they find someone to replace you?” I asked as he put the car in drive and blasted loud techno music from the speakers. He turned it down with an apologetic smile. I’m not sure why, but I hadn’t expected Knight to be the techno sort.

He peeled into the street so fast, I felt as if I were in the midst of a tornado. He changed gears, double-clutching and revving the engine as he did so, a small grin on his lips. Hot Hades, he was such a kid.

“Well, according to the Chief, he wasn’t sure how long it would take to find a replacement, and in Chief talk, that could mean years.”

I nodded, silently pleased to hear it. Then I chided myself; I shouldn’t care where the hell he went or what the hell he did. “So are you looking for a place to live, too? Or sticking it out at the Marriott?”

“No, looking for a place now, as a matter of fact. Looking in the heart of the city.”

I held onto my seat as Knight took the turn at the base of my hill a little too fast and the car’s tires screamed in protest. I should’ve figured him a speed demon. A speed Loki.

“So where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Only the nicest restaurant in this area. The Chateaus.”

Again? Just my luck. I wasn’t sure if I was up for The Chateaus again but better to be polite, I guessed. “I was just there the other night. They have great food.”

Knight braked a little too abruptly at the stop sign. “You were already there?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, it was good—you’ll like it.”

He frowned. “With who?”

“That would be with whom,” I corrected him, then smiled and feigned interest in my fingernails for a few seconds. “Bram took me.”

Knight did an abrupt U-Turn. He was a ticket waiting to happen.

“What are you doing?”

His lips were tight, his jaw even tighter. “Going back to your place. We can order in.”

I laughed. So I enjoyed his discomfort—call me a sadist. “I liked The Chateaus.”

“Well, I’m not taking you there if the vampire did,” he snapped, driving up my hill faster than he’d driven down.

I frowned, still clutching the gray leather seat as if my life depended on it. I glanced at the dash to make sure there were air bags. There were. Phew. “So I got all dressed up for no reason.”

Knight kept his attention trained on the road, a slight twitching in his jaw. “I’m not no reason.”

Ha, so he was jealous, the bastard! I’m not sure why, but provoking Knight was one of the few things in life that brought me great pleasure. “Why are you so bothered by Bram taking me out?”

“I’m not bothered,” he growled and came to an abrupt stop as the light turned red. He tapped his fingers against his lips impatiently and refused to look at me. His other hand massaged the gearshift, as if itching to resume his illegal speeds.

I cleared my throat. “Um, then what would you call it? Jealousy?” I shrugged. “That works too.”

“I’m not jealous.” He cast me a scowl, and put the car into gear as the light turned green, launching us forward. “I just don’t think you should be dating him.”

I laughed. “Who said I was dating him?”

“Well, you agreed to go out with him, so I just figured,” he snapped.

“I agreed to go out with you; am I dating you?”

The anger simmered out of his expression, and he turned to give me a big smirk. “Not yet.”

He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, turning off the engine as he unbuckled his seatbelt and glanced over at me. “Why’d you agree to go out with Bram? I didn’t think he was your type?”

I sighed. “I finished my book, and he took me out in honor of it. That, and I owed him a favor, so he chose that as his favor.”

Knight chuckled. “He couldn’t get you to go out with him any other way so he basically bribed you? That’s tasteful.”

“Well, it’s not like you gave me much of a choice in going out with you tonight either.”

He frowned but didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the door and stepped out of the car. I opened my door as he locked it behind me, offering his arm as we took the flight of stairs. When I refused it, he appeared embarrassed—clearing his throat and glancing in my opposite direction. “Congratulations on finishing your book,” he said.

“Thanks.” I fished inside my purse for my keys and unlocked the front door. “So what’s this job you were talking about?”

Knight strode in behind me and eyeing the yellow pages sitting beneath the coffee table, started for it. He dropped himself onto the couch and opened the book, sorting through it for delivery options.

“Let’s decide what we want to eat first. How’s Italian sound?”

I locked the door behind me. “Fine. I like eggplant parmesan.”

I threw my jacket on the sofa arm and stepped out of my heels, leaving them beside the couch. I tossed my purse onto the kitchen table as Knight dialed and placed our order. When he finished, he returned the phone book and stretched his long legs out before him, crossing them at the ankles as he stretched his arms behind his head.

“There’s been a murder in Sanctity. We know it’s a werewolf, but we haven’t been able to track him down.”

I studied him and took a seat at the table. “Sounds pretty standard. Anyone at Headquarters should be able to solve that with their eyes closed.”

He leaned forward and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s not standard.” He paused. “Will you help me?”

The offer didn’t look so bad, and I needed the money. I’d already dipped into my savings to pay the rent for this month, and it wasn’t something I wanted to repeat. “It depends. What are the particulars?”

He leaned back against the couch smiling. “I’ll pay you whatever you think the job’s worth, and I’ll pay you weekly.” He paused. “If you can solve the case within a month, I’ll pay you an extra thirty percent commission on top.”

Hmm, that didn’t sound half bad. “I name my own price?”

“Yeah, whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“I was supposed to get my review sometime soon which would’ve been at least a ten percent increase.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care what your raise should’ve been. I could get the information on what you made, but I don’t care about it. Just decide what you think is fair and we’ll go from there.” That same cheeky smile returned to his lips. “And don’t short yourself. Now that you’re a consultant, the work won’t be reliable, so make it worth your while.”

“Sounds like you’re teaching me how to be a good businesswoman?” I laughed, appreciating the fact he wasn’t trying to screw me over.

“Well, if I had it my way, you’d be coming back to the force.”

I started to shake my head, still not at all okay with the fact that I’d let Quillan go. I didn’t imagine I ever would be. “I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think you would have.”

“Besides, Sam told me about all the women in the office chasing you. You wouldn’t want me in the way of that.” I threw him a smile.

He stood up with an elevated brow. “Who says you’d get in the way of that?”

I feigned indignation. Knight just chuckled as a knock sounded on the door, announcing the arrival of our food. Knight paid the delivery boy and carried the plastic bags to the kitchen. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“There’s beer in the fridge and I have a bottle of wine on the counter.” The wine had been a going away gift from Sam.

“Wine sounds great. You want a glass?”

“Sure.” I pointed to the glass cabinet and Knight reached for two dusty glasses, throwing me a rolled eye look as he rinsed them out.

“Looks like I just rinsed away a few resident spiders.”

“I forgive you.”

I watched him pour two glasses of red wine, and he handed one to me. Holding his own in the air, apparently he was going to make a toast. “To our new relationship,” he said with a lascivious smile and an equally lascivious wink.

“To our new work relationship,” I corrected him, and we both took a sip. I unpacked the contents of each bag as Knight watched me. “Ready to eat?” I asked.

He nodded and sat down while I started in on my eggplant. Knight had ordered stuffed shells. We were pretty quiet as we devoured our dinners and twenty minutes later, I’d had enough. I pushed the food away and downed my glass of wine.

“Good?” Knight asked.

“Great.”

Knight took his last bite, and I saran-wrapped the remainder of the eggplant, tossing it into the fridge as Knight gathered the rest of our mess and deposited it in the trashcan.

He refilled my wine glass.

“Okay, no more talking about work,” he started and extended his hand. I took it, and he led me into the living room, motioning for me to take a seat on the couch. I did so and he dropped down beside me, resting his hand on my thigh. I didn’t move it.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, setting my wine glass on the coffee table.

He shrugged and taking another sip of his wine, set it beside mine. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Me?” I asked, as if talking about myself were the last thing I intended to do.

“Let’s talk about the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night I kissed you.”

His hand massaged my thigh and nervousness agitated my stomach. I’d kissed and been kissed before—there was no reason for my anxiety.

“Oh, is that so?” I whispered. “I haven’t thought of it since.”

“Liar,” Knight said as his lips met mine.

His lips were full, and when he ran his hand through my hair, I opened my mouth and he thrust his tongue inside. He pushed me down against the couch and moved his body on top of mine as he continued kissing me, his body gyrating against mine just like he’d done when I’d tried to arrest him.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he continued undulating above me, making the blood in my veins burn. He pulled his mouth from mine and gave me a smirk as he tilted my head back and planted a few tender kisses down the length of my neck. I arched up against him as he dug his pelvis into me, and I could feel the obvious stirring of his attraction for me.

“Should we move to the bedroom?” he asked.

Call me old school, but I wanted to be in a relationship if sex was on the horizon. That, and I was just starting to date again. I pushed away from him. “Um, I think that’s a bad idea.”

He chuckled. “Dulcie, you think about everything too much.”

“Well, one of us has to,” I said with a smile and stood up, offering my hand.

He took it and stood, running his fingers through his hair. “Sending me home with blue balls again,” he said with a laugh.

I shrugged. “Looks that way.”

He reached for his keys on the coffee table. “I’m going to take you out on a real date one of these days.”

“You say it like it’s a threat.”

“Just a warning.”

I shook my head and followed him to the door. “You definitely are eager.”

He nodded. “You’re a hard woman to stop thinking about.”

He reached down and circled my waist with his arms, pulling me into the hard length of him and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. “Goodnight, Dulcie.”

He turned around and started for his car.

“Night Knight,” I said with a laugh.

I closed the door and went back into my living room. So more dates with Bram and Knight. Wisps of what felt like panic started in my stomach but I forced myself to ignore them. Dates were not a big deal. It wasn’t like I was getting into a relationship with either one, I thought to myself, hoping to subdue my trust issues.

Glancing at my computer, I noticed I had a new e-mail. I took a seat and opened my inbox. On further inspection, the e-mail was from Dr. Goodman. I clicked it open and read:

Dear Ms. O’Neil,

Please let us know if you would like to set up an appointment for your ear augmentation.

Regards,

The office of Dr. Goodman

I leaned back in my chair. I hadn’t thought about the ear augmentation in over a month. Running a finger over the points of my ears, I remembered Quillan telling me not to go through with it. I’m not sure if his words had made up my mind but something had.

I deleted the e-mail, a new sense of overwhelming pride suffusing me.

The phone rang, interrupting my moment of epiphany. “Hello?”

“Check your front door.”

It was Quillan.

I checked the caller ID but the number was unlisted.

“Quillan?” I demanded, but the dial tone resonated through my ear. I hung up.

“Dammit!”

Running to my front door, I tore it open, hoping to find Quillan even though I knew better. He was a wanted man; he wouldn’t just show up on my doorstep. Just as I’d suspected … nothing. Looking down, I found a box about as high as my knee and maybe two feet wide, wrapped in white paper and a bright red bow. I grabbed the card on top and tore into it.

Dulce,

He’s cuter than a gremlin.

Q.

Not wanting to guess what was in the box, I ripped open the wrapping paper and tearing off a piece of tape binding the box together, I found a yellow Lab puppy gazing up at me. I reached inside and picked him up, his puppy breath tickling my cheek.

He was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

“Hello, boy,” I whispered, wondering what in the hell Quillan was up to.

Noticing his red collar and the silver name tag, I rotated the tag around until I read his name “Blue.”

I shook my head unable to suppress the happy smile that beamed across my face.

Holding the puppy up against my chest, the sound of a car starting caught our attention. It was parked across the street—some sort of white sports car. The driver’s chuckle floated up to me as he started down the street. The windows were too tinted for me to make out who it was.

But I knew.

Quillan.

The End

A TALE OF TWO GOBLINS

Dulcie O’Neil #2

by

H.P. Mallory

Other Series by H.P. Mallory

Paranormal Women’s Fiction Series:

Haven Hollow

Midlife Spirits

Midlife Mermaid

Paranormal Shifter Series:

Arctic Wolves

Paranormal Romance Series:

Underworld

Lily Harper

Dulcie O’Neil

Lucy Westenra

Paranormal Adventure Series:

Dungeon Raider

Chasing Demons

Detective SciFi Romance Series:

The Alaskan Detective

Academy Romance Series:

Academy of Necromancy

Reverse Harem Series: (Writing as Plum Pascal)

Happily Never After

My Five Kings

A Tale of Two Goblins

Copyright © 2018 by H.P Mallory

All rights reserved.

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements:

To my mother, thank you for all your help. I love you.

To my son: I love you

To Dia Robinson: Thank you so much for entering my “Become a character in my next book” contest. I’m thrilled with your addition to the book, Diva!!!

To my beta readers: Sofia Oberg, Belinda Boring, Evie Amaro, Mary Genther, Sally Arnold, Laura Gibala, Jennifer Widener, Meagan Mize and Val Averill: Thank you so much for wanting to read this book and for all your comments. You were all a huge help!

To my editor, Teri, thank you.

To all my readers: I cannot thank you enough for your continued support. I never would have made it this far without all of you … thank you.

A Tale of Two Goblins

ONE

I yawned but forced the desire to crawl back into bed out of my mind. Exercise was important in my line of work, and although it was only five in the morning, it was my favorite hour to jog. I grabbed my iPod and glanced down at Blue as he pawed my toes, only to lean back on his haunches and stretch. Guess it was early for him too.

Pushing an earpiece into my ear, I opened the front door of my crappy apartment and inhaled the cold Splendor air. The chirping of insects was as loud as the finale of any symphony and I shivered as a cold wind assaulted me. I wasn’t a big fan of November in California—give me hot, sunny weather all year long and I’d be as happy as a pixie on a bliss potion.

I leaned over and grabbed my ankles, stretching my quads and stood up, pulling my arms over my head and stretched my triceps. One should never exercise with cold muscles. Blue started groaning and circled me as if to say “hurry up already.” Feeling limber enough, I stepped outside, locked the door and started my jog while Katy Perry sang “Teenage Dream” into my head.

Maybe five minutes into our run, Blue slowed and cocked his head to the side, but I didn’t need his canine sixth sense to know someone was following us. I swallowed the anxiety in my throat and went into autopilot or auto cop, as the case may be. Turning the volume down on my iPod, I didn’t remove the ear buds, not wanting to alert my visitor to the fact that I knew he was there. Rolling my arms in tight circles, I waited—well figuratively, I was still jogging, still giving the illusion of everything being hunky dory in the life of Dulcie the fairy.

Before I had the chance to think, a shadow flickered from between the trees. My breath caught in my throat, and I paused, bending over to pretend to tie my shoelace. Even though I was doing my damndest not to give anything away, Blue wasn’t quite so stealthy. Instead, he stood as if in rigor mortis, his hackles raised and his lips curling back to reveal an impressive set of sharp teeth. His growl interrupted the otherwise still night, and I glanced back at the tree line, watching and waiting for whatever was out there to make itself known. When it did, I’d be ready to take it down with a palm full of fairy dust—my weapon extraordinaire. I stood up and braced myself, feet shoulder width apart.

I didn’t have to wait long. My assailant made himself known, jumping out at me with a huge … smile?

“Knight!” I leaned onto my knees, breathing out the angst that just seconds ago would have dictated I use my fairy powers to take him out. “You bastard,” I breathed, refusing to look at him.

Blue wasn’t as polite. His growl sounded like a large truck driving over rocks. The dog must have thought growling wasn’t threatening enough because he then broke into a deep and angry bark. I petted his head and tried to calm him with “it’s okay, boy” but the dog wouldn’t back down. Instead, he lunged for Knight and much as I was annoyed with Knight myself, he didn’t deserve to get bitten. Not that I thought Blue would bite him, but better to be safe than stuck in the emergency room. So I grabbed Blue’s collar and held him back with a none too subtle “No!”

“Nice dog,” Knight scoffed as Blue continued to growl. Hmm, maybe I hadn’t socialized him well enough. Come to think of it, I hadn’t socialized him at all, which shouldn’t have been much of a surprise as I wasn’t a very social person myself.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

“Morning, Dulce,” Knight said, completely disregarding my less than friendly greeting. Unable to avoid looking at him for more than a few seconds, I finally brought my attention to his face.

Knight Vander was a Loki, a creature from the Netherworld who also happened to be an investigator working for the Association of Netherworld Creatures otherwise known as the ANC. And he also happened to be the hottest thing in Splendor.

“What the hell are you doing outside my apartment at five a.m.?” I insisted, and patted Blue’s head so he’d stop growling. He finally obeyed and sat silently at my feet, wearing a happy dog smile.

“Technically I’m not outside your apartment,” Knight said and flashed me a beautiful smile. Holy Hades, the man was sexy.

“So, we’re going to play word games?” Rather than waiting for an answer, I started jogging again. Not that I disliked Knight but he was a cocky SOB and there wasn’t any room in my life for cockiness or SOBs or, for that matter, Knight. “So, what, you just hang around my house waiting for me to come out?”

“I needed to get in touch with you,” he said in his baritone voice, as rich as a piece of dark chocolate cake.

The moon was still in full effect, and the milky rays glowed against Knight’s white tee shirt. His shorts ended just below his knees, and I couldn’t help but notice how muscular his calves were, muscular and evenly covered with black hair. Realizing I was checking his legs out and very obviously, I brought my attention to the road and tried to increase my pace. Knight easily kept up with me which wasn’t hard considering I was five-one and he was at least six-two, maybe six-three. To me, he looked like a giant.

“Have you heard of this pretty cool invention called the phone?” I asked, keeping my attention straight ahead. “Through a series of wires and electrodes, my voice travels to you and you never have to leave your house! Imagine that!”

“Haha, Dulce, I’ve called you countless times over the last two months, and I’ve lost track of how many messages I’ve left.” He didn’t sound angry, merely conversational.

Okay, so I was guilty about not calling him back, so what? “I’ve been … busy,” I said, though it was farthest from the truth. Having recently given Knight my letter of resignation (he’d been my boss), I now had lots of free time but not a whole lot to fill it with. Course, Knight didn’t need to know that.

“Busy?” he repeated, his tone just as dubious as his smile. “I see you’ve got a dog but other than that, what’s been occupying your time?”

The sound of our footfalls against the pavement echoed my shallow breathing. I hadn’t been on a jog in at least a week and it was making itself known in every section of my body.

“Writing,” I answered succinctly. And it was the truth. I’d been spending all my time working on a book, the second in a series. I had aspirations to be a full-time writer, and it seemed those aspirations might actually be headed somewhere—recently a literary agent had requested the full manuscript of my book, “A Vampire and a Gentleman.”

Knight just nodded, and I felt my breath becoming more and more shallow. It wasn’t easy to run and talk at the same time. I glanced at my companion, the Loki, and found he didn’t seem to be huffing or puffing. Instead, he just wore an amused smile and looked me up and down appreciatively. I frowned and glanced back at the road, feeling the need to slow my pace. But I wouldn’t give in—not yet.

“Where’d you get the dog?” he asked, eyeing the subject all the while.

“He was a gift,” I answered and felt like I was going to pass out with the effort.

“Who from?”

Hmm, this was a question that wouldn’t get an honest answer, or at least not a full honest answer. Blue had been given to me by my ex boss (the one before Knight), Quillan, who was now a wanted potions smuggler. Quillan … just his name left a bad taste in my mouth—he’d been my boss, yes, but also my friend, and I’d sort of lusted after him … just a little. But when it came down to apprehending him, when I was still a cop, aka Regulator working for the Netherworld, I’d failed. And so far, I hadn’t been able to forgive myself for failing, for allowing my emotions to get in the way of my position as Regulator. It had been a sign that I wasn’t the Regulator I’d thought I was or needed to be. So I’d resigned.

I didn’t like to think about Quillan, and I really didn’t like to talk about him.

“Just a friend.” I made the mistake of glancing up at Knight. The cock-eyed expression he wore made me look away quickly. He seemed to always know when there was more to a story. Course, I was also a terrible liar.

“A friend?” he inquired.

Not able to continue on, I stopped jogging and faced him, irritation seeping into my gut as I fought to catch my breath. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to put your nose in other people’s business?”

Knight also stopped jogging, that same smile still hanging from his lips. “Can’t recall that she did.”

I crossed my arms against my chest, trying to ward off the cold night air and wished I’d worn something over my sports bra. Maybe my annoyance with Knight would be enough to keep me warm. “Let’s cut the crap, Knight, what are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

That could mean many things but due to the fact that I’d promised Knight I’d be available to work as a consultant whenever he had a tough Netherworld case, the playing field was narrowed. “What do you need my help for?” I asked, watching Blue arch his back and pee against a bush. He still hadn’t mastered the art of lifting one leg but I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to teach him.

“There’s a case that’s been baffling us all.”

Before I decided to hear anymore, I turned around and started walking back toward my apartment, rolling my arms in big circles. No use in discussing ANC business while we were standing in the middle of the road. Knight was beside me momentarily and threw me another disarmingly handsome smile. With his black hair, blue eyes and tan complexion, immense height and broad build, he looked like a God. And, boy, wouldn’t he have loved to know that.

“Let’s talk about it in my apartment,” I started.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” I grumbled, watching Blue scout the bushes and trees before us. I never took him on a leash because we never met anyone on our 5:00 a.m. excursions. Guess I couldn’t say that anymore.

“Dulce, I’ve been getting ideas where you’re concerned since we met,” Knight said, his voice heavy.

“Well, keep them to yourself,” I snapped. I’d already made up my mind not to get involved with Knight.

“Why do you fight your attraction to me?” His tone wasn’t clipped or otherwise pointing to a hurt self-esteem. Course, he was never anything other than sure, and his infallible confidence was one of his character traits that bothered me the most. I mean, didn’t everyone succumb to self-doubt once in a while? Ha, not if you were a Loki who answered to the name of Knight.

“Who said I’m attracted to you?” I insisted, wishing I could wipe the cocky and proud smile right off his mouth.

“No point in denying it; I’m fully aware of your real feelings for me.”

I laughed, but it was an acidic sound because I was suddenly worried that he could sense it. Even though I’d pledged never to develop feelings for him, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was attracted to Knight and always had been. But I tempered that attraction by keeping him at arm’s length.

As a rule, I didn’t get involved with men. Now, before you question that statement—I also didn’t get involved with women—I just didn’t get involved period. After a pretty crappy breakup two years earlier, my heart still hadn’t fully mended and Knight was the type of man who would break it again, into tiny little shards that would be impossible to glue back together. If he ever got the chance, that is.

“Hmm …” I started, really not knowing what else to say. Even though, as a fairy, I had the innate ability to detect creatures just by looking at them, Knight had thrown me for a loop from day one. Course, the reason had been that I’d never come into contact with one of his kind before—a Loki. Furthermore, the unfortunate thing about Knight’s being a Loki was I had no clue what his powers were. Unlike my ability to create magic from fairy dust, Knight’s abilities weren’t quite so straight forward. I’d actually been keeping a list of the types of powers he’d demonstrated so far. Guess I could add attraction detector to the mix. Unless he was full of it …

“You just know?” I asked doubtfully. “What, is that another of your Loki character traits?”

“Nope,” he said in a self-satisfied sort of way. “It’s just Vander instinct, one hundred percent.”

“Well, your Vander instinct is confused by your Vander cockiness,” I snapped.

He laughed, but his eyes were hot, hungry and I felt consumed just by his wolfish stare. I dropped my attention to the ground and mumbled something under my breath, trying to keep Knight from noticing the red flush currently overtaking my cheeks. We reached my apartment and could now talk about ANC business and not the fact that I was lusting after Knight and, furthermore, that he knew it.

I jammed the key into the lock and nearly lost my focus when I felt the heat of Knight’s body just behind me. The iciness of the air seemed doubly cold in front of me while Knight’s heat penetrated my back. I closed my eyes at the feel of his hands massaging my forearms. Thank Hades my back was to him and he couldn’t see my reaction. Course, the goose bumps on my arms could be compared to a big arrow sign pointing at me with the words: “she’s hot for you” emblazoned on it.

“You have goose flesh,” he whispered and caused a seizure in my stomach.

“I, uh, it’s … it’s cold out here.”

He chuckled and lifted the heavy curtain of my honey blond hair over one shoulder, trailing the back of my neck with his index finger. I couldn’t help the shudder that raced through me.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Dulcie.” His voice was a mere breath whispering against my skin, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of him. The touch of his lips against my neck brought a hiss of air from my mouth, and before I lost all sense of reason right there, Blue walked over and pawed my toes, as if reminding me I’d been attempting to unlock the door and, more so, that I was acting like an idiot.

I opened my eyes and silently praised the dog for bringing me back to my senses. Cranking the key to the left, I pushed the door open with such strength, I nearly lost my footing. But I was inside and away from Knight … things were looking up.

Turning on the light, I flung myself into my computer desk chair, making sure to sit somewhere Knight couldn’t sit beside me. I wheeled around and faced him, finding the air in my tiny apartment considerably stuffy. Knight closed the door behind him and lumbered into my living room, seating himself on my couch.

“One of these days, Dulce, you aren’t going to be able to deny there is something between us.”

Irritation bled through me. I didn’t like people telling me what I could and couldn’t do. “Regardless of what you think, I’m not interested.”

Knight cocked a brow and chuckled, but said nothing.

“So let’s talk about the reason you’re here,” I said.

“There have been quite a few cases recently of comatose victims, both here in Splendor but also in Estuary and Moon.” His tone was suddenly all business, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. All business Knight I could handle.

Estuary was in our district—we provided police work for Splendor, Estuary and Haven. Moon, though, was out of our district and had its own ANC force. But back to the comatose victims … “So why should I be concerned?”

Knight shrugged. “All victims were otherwise healthy, according to their friends and family. Then one night they go to sleep and never wake up the next morning.”

I nodded, feeling a cramp building in my calf. I propped one leg over my knee, leaned forward and started my after exercise stretch routine. “Has anyone died?”

“One death.”

Stretching my calf, I winced against the pain.

“Cramp?” Knight asked. “I can do wonders on sore muscles.”

“I’m fine,” I started and, not wanting to appear so out of sorts, added: “Thanks.”

Knight, apparently not used to hearing no for an answer, stood up and approached me. “Lay with your back on the floor and I’ll show you a good one for leg cramps and for stretching your quads.”

The cramp in my calf suddenly started pounding as if it wanted nothing more than to be massaged by the incredibly handsome Loki, and before I knew it, I was lying on the floor, looking up at him. He reached for my right leg and cradled it against his thigh as he massaged my calf, kneading my sore muscles with his large hands. Little by little, the cramp stopped throbbing and eventually went away. Hmm, another Knight Vander Loki ability?

“When did these comas start?” I asked quickly, trying to pull my attention from his hands. He worked up my thigh and then took my foot in his hand and bent my leg at the knee, pushing my knee up into my stomach.

“How does that feel?” Knight asked.

“Good,” I managed. He pulled my leg straight and put it back on the floor, reaching for the other one. A massage of my other thigh followed, and although I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I was getting incredibly turned on.

“We’ve been noticing these sudden comas popping up for over two months,” he said. Hmm, hence his repeated calls to me over the last couple of months. He didn’t say it but it was there in his eyes. I felt a little bit guilty, but quickly banished the feeling. If Knight had really needed to get in touch with me, he would have invaded my happy little jog months earlier.

“So I guess you want me to review the files?” I asked, thinking I could use some consultant work. My savings account had been dwindling recently, but I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to call Knight for work—it wasn’t that I was avoiding jobs, I was avoiding Knight.

“If you feel so inclined,” he answered with a grin and brought my foot back to the ground, offering his hands. I took them, and he pulled me up.

“Any ideas on what could be causing all the comas?” I asked.

He made his way back to the couch and sunk into it, stretching his arms above his head and clasped them behind his neck. I was convinced he liked showing off his chest and huge biceps. “Healthy victim one day, comatose the next.”

“Toad Wallow?” Toad Wallow was a potion—one drop and you’d be dead to the world for a week at the most, then you’d wake up with one raging headache, but at least you’d wake up. Course, it didn’t seem the same could be said for these victims.

Knight shook hishelp me head. “None of the patients have reflexes, and their EKGs come back inactive.”

“Somnogobelinus,” I whispered. “A sleep goblin, a Dreamstalker.”

Knight nodded. “All roads lead to Rome, or a Dreamstalker in this case.”

I shook my head. “There are only two registered Dreamstalkers in the ANC files: one has been locked away in a Netherworld prison for centuries and …”

“The second was locked away five years ago,” Knight finished for me, with an approving smile.

“Ah, so you have done your homework.” Apprehending Druiva, the Dreamstalker in question, had been one of the most difficult cases Splendor ANC had ever seen. I’d been a junior Regulator at the time and hadn’t really been involved, but it was one of those legendary cases that was still discussed, even now.

“I have.”

“And are they still locked away?” I demanded, thinking we’d found our solution if the answer was “no.”

“Yes, as of yesterday, they are both doing time in Banshee Prison from here until eternity, both under extra security.”

“How can this be then?” I asked, and slunk back into the computer chair, suddenly irritated by the fact that I’d let Knight touch me. I was like mush in his hands—if I was going to keep my distance, I needed to avoid him. Damn it all, I’d been doing a pretty good job before he’d just waltzed back into my life as pretty as he pleased.

Knight shook his head and dropped his arms, thank Hades. A chest that broad should have been illegal. “We’re baffled, which is why I wanted to bring you into the case.” He stood up and approached me, causing me to shrink back into my chair. “Will you help me, Dulce?”

I just nodded before the vision of his lips against my neck slapped me back into reality. Knight needed to know this arrangement would be purely professional, purely business. “Yes, on a few conditions.”

Knight sighed and started pacing my living room. “Name them.”

“One, you have to be professional.”

He faced me, his mouth open in mock offense. “I’m always …”

“No flirting, no accidental touches, no running your fingers down my neck, no lips on my shoulders …”

He chuckled. “You enjoyed that; don’t deny it.”

I had enjoyed it and couldn’t deny it, so I merely ignored him. “No double-entendres, no gifts …”

“Okay, I get it,” he said none too happily. “Is that all?”

“No sex jokes, no invading my personal space, no comments on my appearance, no lustful glances and absolutely no winking.”

Knight threw himself back into the couch and faced me with a perturbed expression. “I should have found someone else to help with the case.”

I laughed. “Don’t be a spoil sport. You know I’m the best.”

He offered me a boyish grin. “Yes, you are.”

Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this would be easier than I’d assumed. As long as Knight kept his distance, I could keep my guard up. “Good, now that we’ve reached an understanding, let’s meet up again tomorrow night. Bring the files with you.”

“What about tonight?”

“Tonight’s not good; I have plans.” And plans I wasn’t thrilled about. I had a date with a vampire. Well, I didn’t exactly think of it as a date—more like two people accompanying one another to a party.

“Plans?” Knight asked, warily.

“Yes,” I started before interrupting myself. “Add that to the list of rules: no being nosy and definitely no being jealous.”

He dropped his pinched lip expression and exchanged it for one of detached indifference. “I’m not jealous.”

“No use in lying,” I said with a broad smile. “I know you are—call it my instincts, one hundred percent pure Dulcie O’Neil.”

With a chuckle, Knight stood and approached the door, the sunlight of morning just peeking through my windows, basking him in a yellow glow until he looked like an angel. Ha, Knight was no angel.

“Until tomorrow night then,” he said and reached for the doorknob.

“Yes.”

He smiled. “It’s a date.” Then he opened the door, winked and walked into the daylight.

Men.

***

As I mentioned earlier, Bram was a vampire and it just happened to be his three hundredth birthday. Every hundred year birthday found a vampire stronger, quicker, more powerful and in Bram’s case, he’d even gotten better looking. His day old stubble was still in full effect but that wasn’t something he’d ever be able to do anything about, seeing as how he’d had it when he’d been turned. But there was something about him that was just more attractive—maybe it wasn’t so much his features that had improved but more his control over what other people thought of him.

“Ah, sweet, you are ravishing,” Bram said in his lofty English accent and kissed my hand as his eyes devoured every inch of me.

I smiled my thanks and accepted his arm as he escorted me down my front walkway and into the leather plushness of a black stretch Hummer. Our driver, a were, doffed his head politely as I pulled myself into the stretch limo. Bram was just behind me and once he’d taken his seat across from mine, eyed me with undisguised admiration.

“Dulcie, these many months of separation have been difficult on my memory. I do not recall you appearing quite so beautiful.”

I sighed and tried to smile. I was just not good at accepting compliments. Was Bram sincere? Yeah, I thought so. Did he want to get into my pants? Yeppers and always had. But regardless of Bram’s intentions, I had to admit I did feel … pretty.

I’d worn a knee-length, strapless black evening gown in a diaphanous material that graced my skin like a whisper. Even though the gossamer material hinted at the curves of my body, it was just that—a hint. My lace thong panties were my only undergarments, the dress not lending itself to a bra. Not exactly comfortable exposing so much skin, I’d covered the dress with a fitted black leather jacket. And to finish off my evening attire, I’d worn the highest heels I owned—four-inch Jimmy Choos with so many straps, they would have pleased any dominatrix. I wore my hair down which wasn’t a surprise since I wasn’t exactly thrilled with showing off my ears. As a fairy, my ears came to points at the top and they were my least favorite of my physical attributes. I’d considered getting an ear reduction but threw the idea out because it was just too risky. Fairies didn’t do well with human sedatives. That and my old boss, Quillan, had said I didn’t need it, that I was beautiful just as I was.

A sadness descended on me at the thought of Quillan, so I brushed it aside and focused on my handsome vampire date. Over six-four, he had the physique of a swimmer—broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist with a pair of legs that seemed to be as long as I was tall (not that I was tall). His black hair was on the longish side, just curling over his ears. His licentious smile was … sexy. But like my relationship with Knight or lack thereof, I wanted to keep things strictly platonic with Bram. Although I had started dating more recently, I still wasn’t completely comfortable with it and rather than running for cover with my tail between my legs, I just decided to take it one step at a time. The fact that I was even out tonight was a step in and of itself.

“Thanks for the compliment,” I said with a small smile.

He returned the smile and appeared to be studying me. Feeling entirely too uncomfortable under his libidinous stare, I fought to find something to say. “So are you feeling any different on your birthday?”

He nodded but didn’t expound.

I cocked my head and considered him. “And? What’s different?”

“I’m faster.”

“Faster?” I started but Bram had suddenly … disappeared. Just dissolved into the air as if he’d never been, as if I’d been imagining him all along. As a vamp, he’d always been fast—moving like a blur from point A to point B but as a blur, that’s exactly what you’d been able to see. This was different.

“Bram?” I repeated, shifting my gaze from one end of the limo to the other. Just like that, I felt an icy cold penetrating my back. I whipped around to find Bram sitting beside me, smiling smugly. “What was that?” I demanded, shock straining my voice. “You can disappear now?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“But …”

“I merely moved too quickly for you to follow with your naked eye.”

“Bullshit,” I bit out, wondering if he was going to backpedal and try to talk his way out of it. It would do no good. I knew what I’d seen … or hadn’t seen in this case.

He laughed. “Your mind tricked you, Dulce. I have been sitting here all along but you were relying on the incorrect sense.”

“Incorrect sense?” I asked dubiously and crossed my arms against my chest as I regarded him coolly.

He leaned into me until his icy breath fanned across my naked collarbone and brought goose bumps to my skin. But I held my ground and didn’t move away.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

“You’d better not try anything,” I started, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I know you too well, Sweet, to attempt anything. You would have me flat on my back with a stake over my heart before I could blink.”

He did know me well. I closed my eyes and then I heard him. It was the tiniest, most insignificant disturbance in the otherwise still air. I opened my eyes and glanced to my right and there he was.

“You see?” he asked.

I nodded and watched him disappear as if the air had swallowed him—right there in front of me. I didn’t have enough time to think to rely on my other senses rather than my eyesight and suddenly felt myself falling, pushed backward by unseen hands. The leather of the seat met the back of my head, and I inhaled sharply as adrenaline pounded through my veins. My dress slinked up my thighs but I wasn’t concerned with propriety at the moment. What I was concerned with was the fact that Bram had materialized and was now on top of me.

“Back the hell off me,” I hissed and pushed against his chest, suddenly angry with myself that I’d ever agreed to be his date in the first place. I could never truly trust Bram. Sure, he’d helped me with certain cases when I’d been a Regulator but he definitely wasn’t a law-abiding citizen. If he had one hand in the morally upstanding cookie jar, the other hand was in the process of stealing all the cookies.

His fangs descended, and he was panting. His eyes, though, were far more scary. There was a depth to them I’d never seen before, something wiser and older. If I hadn’t been a fairy with my level of magical ability, I’d now be under the vampire’s spell, allowing him to do whatever he wanted to with me. As it was, I was finding it difficult to fight. “Bram, I’m giving you three seconds to back the fuck off me.”

Bram suddenly sat up and adjusted the tie at his neck while his fangs retracted. “Apologies.”

I pushed myself aside and pulled my dress down, throwing him an angry glare. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to make me hate you?”

“I was curious to learn if my increased age could make you submit to me,” he answered tersely, casually, as if he hadn’t just attacked me. But somewhere in his comment was disappointment. He’d been hoping I was weak enough to submit to him. But to what end?

“You’re lucky I didn’t taser you, bastard!” I retorted, although it was an empty threat. I hadn’t brought a taser with me. But Bram didn’t need to know that.

“I would not have injured you, Sweet,” Bram said and pasted an artificial smile on his handsome face. “It was merely a test.”

“Well, I don’t like tests so don’t do it again,” I snapped, feeling the pounding of my heartbeat start to slow. Maybe it had merely been a test and not something more sinister. “If we’re going to be friends …”

“I do so enjoy our friendship,” he interrupted.

“Then don’t screw it up.” My eyes narrowed as I reconsidered his earlier statement. “If your powers of persuasion had worked, what would you have done?”

“Kissed you, Sweet, as I am still dying to do.” He leaned forward like he thought he’d give it a try.

“Keep away from me,” I said angrily. To reinforce the comment, I quickly moved to the seat across from him. I crossed my arms against my chest and wondered how I’d get through the evening.

“I apologize for offending you. I seem to lose my wits where you are concerned.”

I was spared the need to respond as the limo came to a halt and moments later, our driver opened the door. I hopped down and glanced up at the restaurant before us, The Chateaus. It was the same place Bram had taken me when I’d agreed to a first “date” with him. I had half a mind to leave him at the curb and walk inside without him but forced myself not to. This was Bram’s big night, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. Granted, he’d just tried to molest me but hopefully he’d learned his lesson. And I’d learned my lesson to pack heat no matter where I was going or who I was seeing—you never knew when some jackass vampire was going to try to nibble your goodies.

The jackass vampire in question was beside me momentarily and offered his arm as he leaned down and whispered. “I apologize, Sweet, I will never impose myself on you again. Do you accept my apology?”

“Yes,” I grumbled and took his arm as we started up the marble walkway of the grand restaurant. A doorman greeted Bram by name and pulled open the ornate ten-foot-high mahogany door, revealing the crowd within. That was when I realized we must have been pretty late. Not that it was a surprise—Bram definitely labored under the misguided notion of his own self-importance. Of course he’d be late to his own party.

As we entered the overcrowded room, I felt like I was on exhibit—”Bram’s date, who can she be?” going through everyone’s minds. I dropped my attention to the click of my heels against the black marble floors. When I could still feel the flush of anxiety on my cheeks, I forced myself to take in the dark red of the walls, the open ceiling, warehouse like with its rows of exposed metal piping. Candelabras topped with slender red candles stood proudly at the center of each table, throwing a yellow glow against the plates, soup bowls and the silver of utensils that decorated each table. My eyes fell to one table, dead center in the room, separated from the other tables by a girth of about two to three feet all the way around. And guess whose table that was? I swallowed down my anxiety and allowed Bram to lead me to the small table currently playing the part of island. There were only two chairs. Holy Hades …

As soon as we reached the table, Bram’s posse descended on us, smiling and offering congratulations. Many of his female acquaintances embraced him, there were even some kisses, from which he quickly pulled away and eyed me speculatively. I just shook my head and took a seat at the table, pretending extreme interest in the cutlery.

“Looks like you’ve got the best seat in the house.”

I glanced up into Knight’s smiling face and felt my stomach drop.

TWO

I was about to accuse Knight of stalking me when I noticed his arm intertwined with a woman’s—Angela, the bartender from Bram’s nightclub. She smiled at me but I wasn’t sure I returned the greeting, my stomach was still in the process of reeling from the fact that Knight was here and worse, that he and Angela appeared to be … together? Were they dating? Maybe already an item? If so, Knight was a bigger asshole than I’d previously imagined considering the way he’d been flirting with me this morning.

“Hi, Dulcie,” Angela said sweetly and I hoped I wasn’t still scowling at her, at them. I’d always liked Angela but just then I could have clawed her eyes out. I had to swallow the primitive reaction and stood up, forcing a smile.

“Hi Angela and, uh, Knight, I didn’t know you … both were coming.” Okay, so far so good. My voice had sounded pretty steady and my brain had been able to phrase a sentence together even though my stomach was threatening to make a spectacle of itself all over the shiny floors.

“Well, of course Angela would be invited,” Knight said. My stomach dropped further. “She does work for Bram.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” I answered tightly and internally told myself to cool it. No use in blowing my cover of an uninterested and definitely not jealous Dulcie. Not that I was interested or jealous. I was just … surprised. Yeah, I’d go with that.

“And I’m Angela’s date,” Knight finished, turning his attention on me again, an innocent smile on his face. A smile that said all his flirting earlier had been just a game, a whim. A smile that said he knew I was jealous and was enjoying my jealousy. Well, touché, Knight and your stupid perfect smile.

“Apologies,” I said to Angela and clarified the response with “for having to be Knight’s date.”

She laughed and pushed her orange bangs behind her ear. Her hair wasn’t naturally orange—she just had an addiction where hair color was concerned. After all the bleach involved, I was surprised she even had any hair left. Course, maybe that was why it was so short—as in boy short. So, about Angela, much though I really didn’t want to admit it, she was an attractive woman—she was decently tall and stick thin with a nice set of fake boobs. The nice set of fake boobs were currently residing in a black halterneck top with ribbons lacing down the front, crisscrossing against a backdrop of naked skin. Two ribbons covered her nipples but there wasn’t enough of the halterneck top to cover the underside of her breasts or the swell of the top. The “dress” continued in the same manner with ribbons lacing up the sides of her hips and thighs but thank Hades there was some sort of material in the front—it looked like rubber. All in all, with the missing fabric it looked like a were had made fast work of her dress. But it wasn’t like I was going to say anything.

“Bram was excited you agreed to be his date, Dulcie,” Angela started and sidled closer to Knight until you couldn’t tell where he began and she ended.

I mumbled something that was so quiet I couldn’t even understand it while Knight laughed. “Was this another favor you owed him, Dulce?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes. Knight was here on a date … willingly. That was a fact. And I was jealous; that was also a fact. So even though some people might have accused me of being childish, I did what I had to do. “No, not a favor,” I snapped at Knight before turning a sweet smile on Angela. “I’ve also been looking forward to Bram’s and my … date.” Knight snickered but I forced myself to hold Angela’s gaze. “And has Bram gotten amazingly fast or what?” My eyebrow arched in what I hoped was a sexy expression—one of those femme fatale sort of “I know something you don’t know” looks.

“Did he show off for you?” Angela asked, shaking her head.

I nodded, watching from the corner of my eye as Knight’s smile vanished. Ha, served him right, the cocky bastard. Angela then turned to Knight and dropped her hand from his as she explained she had to visit the ladies’ room. Knight watched her depart, before planting his gaze back on me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, pleased I could finally speak my mind.

“What does it look like? I was invited.”

“You can’t stand Bram,” I said, eyeing the throng of admirers who still circled Bram like he was the great messiah. What was it with cocksure men? And why in hell did I have to be surrounded by them? I shook my head at the injustice of it all and returned my gaze to Bram who threw his head back and laughed heartily at some compliment a bottle blond offered him. She leaned into him and whispered something in his ear, making his fangs descend. Apparently remembering he had a date, he scanned the room for me and offered an apologetic smile that said he was still at the mercy of his … fans. Better them than me.

“Bram didn’t invite me,” Knight responded and smiled at the unspoken statement—that Angela had. He took the vacant seat next to me, but I refused to look at him, pretending extreme interest in the flirtations between Bram and his female guests.

“So, what, you both are an item now?” I asked, trying to wrestle the words down even as they left my tongue.

He shrugged—I caught it with my peripheral vision. “Are you and the vampire an item?”

“No,” I said quickly, facing him again. He was wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, unbuttoned down to his clavicle. The black of his suit was the same shade of velvet darkness as his hair. And with his strong jaw, piercing blue eyes and Roman nose, most women would have imagined him God’s gift to the female sex. Or, in Knight’s case, Hades’s gift. I, myself, couldn’t say I was grateful to Hades in the least.

“Ah, so it was a favor then?” he continued, and his smirk was enough to ignite my anger.

“New subject,” I interrupted, tired of playing word games with the Loki. “Why did you ask me if we could meet up tonight to work on the Dreamstalker case when you knew you’d be here?”

He leaned back into his chair and regarded me coolly. “I asked what your plans were; you didn’t inquire after mine.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You wanted me to say I was free so you could let me know you had a date with Angela, didn’t you? Really adult of you, Knight.”

He shrugged and raised his brows. “Why would you care if I had a date with Angela?”

Although I was pissed, I tried to appear indifferent. “I don’t.” I’m not sure I succeeded.

He leaned forward, and there was something in his eyes—irritation? “Then what does it matter?”

Not wanting to back down, I leaned closer to him, until only about four inches separated us. His spicy male scent hit me like a punch. “It matters because I don’t like games. Mean what you say and say what you mean.” I wanted to pat myself on the back for such an awesome answer. “I neither have the time nor the interest to play tag with you, Knight.”

Knight didn’t respond right away and neither of us pulled back. Instead, we just sat there, staring at one another. It had become a challenge—who would back down first? Who would pull away and allow the buffer of a few more inches of personal space?

It wouldn’t be me.

Knight smirked and leaned back into his seat, eyeing the room around him with ennui. “So the vampire is stronger and faster now?” he asked noncommittally, apparently ill at ease with the fact that I’d just called him out and let him know he was full of crap. So he wouldn’t let me soak up the afterglow of a conversation won. Hmm, was someone a sore loser?

I nodded, focusing on Bram as he continued to laugh and flirt, reminding me of that black Bird of Paradise as it pranced around doing a mating dance. But unlike the pitiable bird that ended its display of passion with only a bored hen as its reward, Bram’s hens were anything but disinterested. They continued to rub against him like cats in heat, and the vampire was eating it up. Apparently feeling my eyes on him, Bram turned his attention to me and winced as if he wasn’t enjoying all the attention. Ha, as if. I held up my hand to say “take your time; I’m enjoying myself” even though I couldn’t say I was enjoying myself. Jealousy was still in the process of eating a big hole in my stomach and if nothing else, I wanted to go home and drown my sorrows in a vat of Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream. And that was really saying something because I didn’t even like sweets.

“Is he trustworthy?” Knight continued.

“What?” I asked, completely at a loss. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe if you’d stop staring at the vampire, you’d know.” His voice was stilted, angry.

“I wasn’t staring at him,” I muttered, realizing I’d been doing exactly that.

“Is Bram trustworthy?” Knight repeated. “Since he’s so much stronger and faster now, is that going to cause trouble for the ANC or trouble for you?”

I frowned and shrugged at the same time. “He’s as trustworthy as the next vampire.”

“That isn’t saying much.”

“It’s saying I don’t know what the answer to your question is. Do I trust Bram? Most the time yes. Do I think he’s going to get more cocky and take more risks due to his increased strength and power? Probably so. Do I think he’s a risk to the ANC? No, probably not.” I took a deep breath—I needed it since that had been a mouthful.

“If he’s so much stronger, it will be harder for you to defend yourself against him, if the need ever arose.”

Based on Bram’s little example of his increased speed in the limo, I also wondered if I’d be able to defend myself against him, not that I thought I’d ever need to … “Bram and I go way back.”

Knight’s lips were still tight—maybe even angry. And there was a rigidness to his body. “So what? He’s vampire.”

I smiled as warmly as I could. “You’re Loki, and I hardly know you.”

He nodded and cocked his head to the side, studying me like he was a great artist and I was a muse to be reckoned with. “I would never hurt you.”

I swallowed hard, not wanting to admit how his words had created warmth in me, a feeling of, dare I say it, endearment. “Neither would Bram.” At Knight’s dubious expression, I continued. “He’s harmless, Knight. Bram just wants to have sex with me and then he’d be completely over this … crush.”

At the word “sex,” Knight shifted uncomfortably, focusing his attention on Bram. His expression wasn’t a pretty one. When he faced me again, there was heat in his eyes, a certain glow I’d never seen before.

“What was that?” I demanded, sort of weirded out.

“What?”

“Your eyes just started … glowing.”

I was pretty sure I didn’t imagine the reddish blush that stained his cheeks. “It’s something Lokis do—we have no control over it.”

I narrowed my eyes—would his Loki traits ever stop revealing themselves? “And what is ‘it’ that you have no control over?”

He exhaled deeslightply. “Not something I really want to—”

He never had the chance to finish the statement as Angela was suddenly beside him. I was so irritated, I had half a mind to open the floor and have it swallow her whole, but restrained myself. I’d find out what this glowing eye bit really meant soon enough. The fact that Knight was clearly uncomfortable with it and didn’t want to discuss it was all the more reason to find out why. Anything I could wield over his head held a lot of value.

“Well, I think we’d best find our table, Knight,” Angela started as her eyes followed Bram, who was en route to our table.

Knight hoisted himself to his feet, offered me a crooked smile and off they went to their table, arm in arm. My stomach flopped at the sight of them and I had to talk myself out of the fact that I was … jealous. I wasn’t jealous … I was surprised, remember?

“Sweet,” Bram greeted me as he took his seat. “I apologize for leaving you unattended.”

“It’s okay, Angela and Knight kept me company.”

“Very good,” the vampire said although I could tell he was less than happy hearing Knight’s name on my tongue.

I was about to respond but was spared the need when servers began pouring into the room from one of three doorways. They were dressed in black, each with a small red apron wrapped around his middle. They carried silver soup tureens to every table, laid them down and began ladling what looked like cream of potato or maybe leek soup into each bowl, skipping a few patrons here and there, those patrons either being vamps or people opposed to soup.

I brought my attention back to Bram and found he’d been staring at me the whole time. “What?” I insisted.

He shook his head, a slight laugh escaping his lips. “I am pleased to be with you tonight, my sweet Dulce.”

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” I grumbled, not exactly able to return the sentiment. So far this evening, I’d done a three-sixty from uncomfortable to angry to jealous back to uncomfortable again.

The soup tureen made its way to our table and once the server had ladled and departed, Bram watched contentedly as I stirred it around my bowl, making no motion to sample it. My mind teamed with images of Knight and Angela, while images of Bram jumping me in the limo fought to the surface of my overwhelmed brain. A visual of Quillan interrupted the tempest of my thoughts, and I suddenly felt an almost indescribable ease wash over me, followed by melancholy as I realized how much I missed him, how I wished we were still friends so we could laugh about the fact that I’d gone on a date with Bram.

“You do not appear well,” Bram said and his expression revealed concern.

“I have a lot on my mind,” I answered, and it was one hundred percent the truth.

“Well, let us speak of friendlier subjects. Have you an update on your book?”

I nodded, pleased with the distraction from the tailspin of thoughts colliding in my head. Yes, my book was a great subject, a neutral, easy subject. Bram only wanted to discuss it because he happened to be the muse for my main character, also a vampire. Only I’d named my vampire Raven. Aside from the name change, the book was pretty much solely about Bram—his life, how he’d become a vamp and his experiences over the last three hundred years.

“Well, as you know, I finished it a few months ago.”

“Yes, I do recall.”

I continued to stir my soup, feeling like a witch tending to her cauldron. “I think I told you I’d been attempting to get an agent?” Bram just nodded, so I continued. “I sent out my queries, and one agent requested the entire book.”

Bram smiled widely. “I did not doubt you, Sweet. I am very pleased.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty stoked, myself.”

“And what will happen now?” Bram continued and accidentally or not, brushed his foot against my leg underneath the table. Instantly I shifted my leg and pretended not to notice.

“Now I’ll just wait to see if they want to offer me representation.”

“Well, do ensure this is the best possible agent, Sweet. We want the best for our book.”

I didn’t find his reference to the book as “ours” at all offensive. In fact, I was proud, happy that Bram claimed ownership to something that meant a lot to me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was as much his book as mine because it was his life, so he probably had just as much invested in it as I did. “The agency is well respected,” I finished.

“Very good,” Bram said and eyed my untouched soup. “Are you not hungry?”

I let go of the spoon, realizing how rude it was to play with one’s food without ever trying it or intending to.

Bram laughed. “No wonder you are of such slight figure. If I did not know better I would think you must be vampire as I do not believe I have ever seen you eat.”

“You saw me eat the last time we were here, remember? On our first … date.”

Bram relaxed into his chair and eyed me with an expression that was difficult to categorize—a studious gaze, as piercing as it was appreciative. “And now we are on our second date.” He was quiet for a moment. “Does this mean we are … dating?”

I was quick to answer “no.”

He didn’t lose that bizarre expression. If anything it was now deeper, more exacting. “Then what would you call this, Sweet?”

“I would call it what it is—you want to get into my pants, and I won’t let you, so you figure the more dates we go on, the more I’ll drop my defenses and eventually, my panties.”

Bram was silent for exactly two seconds and then threw his head back and exploded into a raucous chuckle. “Do you think so little of me?”

“I don’t know that I think little of you,” I started. “I just know you for who and what you are.”

Bram nodded, a smile still highlighting his full and sensual lips. “Perhaps we should give this theory of yours a try?”

I returned the smile and before he got too excited, shook my head. “Thanks but no thanks. I prefer our friendship.”

He didn’t look disappointed. “I will not give up, you do realize that, Sweet?”

“Bram, I would never accuse you of being anything other than … persistent.”

“Ah, you do know me well.”

“I like to think I do.” I paused, and he leaned back into his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “So as long as you don’t jump me like you did earlier,” I continued, “we can continue our friendship.”

“I did already apologize for that, Sweet.”

“You did but I’m not convinced it was sincere.”

Bram held up two fingers like he thought he was a boy scout or something. “I do honestly and truthfully regret it,” he pledged, then dropped his hand. “I should have known I could not force my will upon you and furthermore, had I succeeded, I would not have enjoyed the conquest. I prefer you in your natural cantankerous state.”

I laughed. That had been a pretty good one.

***

After Bram and his limo dropped me off later that evening, and Bram attempted to steal a kiss which I rebutted, I entered my apartment, greeted Blue and threw my purse against the couch with a heartfelt sigh. My sigh spoke volumes as my mind swam with images of Knight and Angela that I couldn’t dispel. Why was I so concerned? Why was I so bothered by it, by them? I was completely and totally un-okay with the possibility that maybe I was developing feelings for Knight, maybe I’d already developed them. And, furthermore, maybe they’d been developing all along—ever since I’d first met Knight outside my apartment building when I’d tried to take him down with magic and he’d just laughed at me. Knight and I had been through a lot together—hunting down a Kragengen shifter who’d been eating some of our less than law-abiding citizens. Knight had also been there when I’d discovered Quillan was not whom I’d supposed him to be and had been lying to me for Hades only knew how long. And then there was the time when Knight had actually saved my life …

The piercing ring of the phone interrupted my soliloquy, and I answered it, noting my best friend’s name and number on the caller ID.

“Hi, Sam,” I said and collapsed into my sofa as Blue jumped up beside me, nudging his big head into my lap.

“How was your date?” Sam asked with a laugh. She’d known I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this evening.

“It sucked,” I began. “Hey, did you know Knight was going to be there?”

“How would I have known that?”

I shrugged and then remembered she couldn’t see me. “Just thought he might have brought it up at work.” Sam was not only my best friend, but she was also a gifted witch and just happened to be working for Knight.

“Nope. So what was he doing there? He and Bram aren’t exactly BFFs.”

I laughed. “Nope, they aren’t. He was there with … Angela.” My whole body seemed to deflate on itself at the mention of Angela. How bad did I have it?

Sam was quiet for a second or two. “And by the sound of it, you weren’t happy to see them together?”

I sighed, long and hard. “Sam, I’m afraid I’m … into Knight.”

More silence on the other end and if that wasn’t telling, I didn’t know what was. “Hmm,” she started and was quiet again. “I don’t know that that’s a good idea. I mean, I like Knight but there’s just something about him. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Okay, if Sam didn’t think crushing on Knight was a good idea, then it really wasn’t because Sam was about as smart as they came. “I know it’s not a good idea and I’m not happy about it.”

“What about Bram?” Sam quickly asked and there was a note of veiled curiosity to her voice. “Were you able to keep your mind off Knight with Bram?”

I was quiet as I considered the facts before me. Sam and Bram had had a fling about a year ago and Sam had been pretty hot for Bram but he hadn’t exactly returned the interest. Sam had said she’d gotten over it and while I believed her, it seemed maybe there was something residual still there? “Um, no … Bram and I are just friends, you know that.”

“You keep saying that but you know he wants more from you.”

“It’s easy to keep him at arm’s length.” I was quiet for a few seconds. “Sam, do you still have the hots for him?”

It was her turn to sigh. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“There will always be a part of me that will be attracted to him but I would never date him again, not after I know what he’s like. And I’m not looking for another one night stand.”

A flush of relief washed through me. If Sam was worried about my attraction to Knight, I’d definitely be worried if she was still hot for Bram. As far as I was concerned, neither one was a good choice. “Okay, good.”

“So back to you and Knight.”

“There’s nothing to say about Knight and me. He and Angela are probably enjoying themselves together as we speak, and that’s what I need to focus on. I’ve already had about the crappiest breakup ever with Jack, I really don’t want to go through that again.”

“I actually agree with you, Dulce,” Sam said with a sadness to her voice. “I really wanted you to get out there and date and get over Jack but I have a feeling Knight might mess you up even worse than Jack did. None of us really know him.”

“And what we do know of him just screams player.”

“I can see that too.”

Somehow this conversation made me feel better. It cemented the fact that Knight wasn’t a good choice, not that I’d been going full steam ahead previously but it still helped strengthen my will not to get involved.

“Are you going to be okay?” Sam asked.

Yes, I’d be fine. It was merely a small and inconsequential crush that had sort of come out of nowhere. Maybe it was just the fact that I hadn’t seen Knight in such a long time and then he’d dropped back into my life like a bomb. I hadn’t been able to prepare myself, to talk myself out of the fact that he was incredibly hot and the fact that even though his sexy, flirty and playful nature drove me nuts, it was also pretty … attractive. “Yep, I’m steadfast when it comes to these things—if I have to get over something, I will.”

“That’s one of the things I really admire about you, Dulce, you’re strong.”

I laughed as I considered it. I was strong. I’d always been strong. And it was one of my character traits I loved the most. “You and I make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

She returned the laugh. “We sure do.”

After I hung up, I started for my bedroom to change out of my clothes when the phone rang again. Thinking Sam must have forgotten to tell me something, I grabbed it without checking caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Dulce.” It was Knight. My stomach dropped for the nth time this evening.

“What?”

“Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay.”

I was taken aback and didn’t know how to respond. Was Angela still with him? If so was she pissed he was calling me? Was I pissed he was calling me? I didn’t feel angry or annoyed. “I’m fine … thanks.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “I was thinking about what you said.”

“I’ve said a lot of things to you.”

He laughed. “About meaning what I say and saying what I mean. I think it’s good advice.”

I couldn’t help my surprise. He’d actually listened to me? It hadn’t gone in one ear and out the other? “Good, you can pay me whatever it’s worth to you.”

He chuckled heartily, a sexy sound if I had to judge. “Can I come by tomorrow afternoon to go over the details of the Dreamstalker case with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” I started, pleased we could focus on the case. That I could handle. “Okay, well good night.”

“Good night, Dulce. Until tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone and didn’t know what to think so I didn’t think anything at all.

THREE

When the doorbell rang at 7:00 p.m. the following evening, I didn’t even need to look through the peephole to know it was Knight. But I did, anyway—you can never be too careful. Course, Blue was like an alarm system in his own right—howling and pawing at the door as if determined to take down whoever happened to be on the other side. I eyed Knight through the peephole for a second or two as he leaned against the wall and watched a car drive by.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to kill every last one of the butterflies in my stomach—to smash them into oblivion, shredding their gossamer wings while discouraging my feelings for Knight. Just as he was about to knock again, I opened the door and offered him a quick smile in greeting, grabbing Blue’s collar as he attempted to break free. I pushed Blue back into the house and shut the door behind us with my foot. Glancing at Knight, I noticed his hands were full with what looked like a foil-covered casserole dish topped with three manila folders.

“Dulce,” he said upon entering my humble abode. He headed for the kitchen, placing the manila folders on the kitchen table before he uncovered whatever was beneath the foil.

“What is that?” I asked, sounding less than thrilled.

“Lasagna,” he answered without facing me. Instead, he opened the oven door and plopped the concoction into the oven, slapping his hands together with satisfaction and faced me. “I made it.”

I raised a brow in skepticism. “You made it?”

“Yep, I’m a good cook.” He sounded … proud.

The idea of Knight as a chef seemed totally alien to me for some reason—like it was too casual an occurrence, too everyday in its simplicity. But unsettling or not, it had to mean he’d found a long-term place to live in Splendor. He’d been looking for somewhere more permanent than the Marriott Hotel due to the fact that he’d be continuing his stint as head of the ANC division here in Splendor until the Netherworld found his replacement.

“So you found an apartment then?” I asked.

Knight nodded and pulled out one of my kitchen chairs, straddling it backwards and leaned his big arms over the chair back. “I did.”

“And?”

“It’s nice. Over on Shamrock Street.”

Shamrock Street was the Beverly Hills of Splendor. “Well, good to see they pay you well,” I grumbled, thinking about the fact that I was about to be late on my rent.

“I’m worth it, Dulce,” he said with a smile, a smile that said his comment wasn’t just limited to his position as head of the ANC. Before I had the chance to respond, Blue casually trotted over to Knight and sniffed his feet curiously.

The visual of what happened next will forever live in my head in infamy. Blue simply jumped up onto Knight’s leg and with unbridled abandon, began humping his knee, thrusting back and forth with the expression of extreme concentration on his canine face.

“Blue!” I squealed and lurched for him.

Knight’s laugh was deep as he pushed the dog away. “Really, Dog, we only met yesterday.”

Blue apparently had it bad for Knight and resumed his straddled position, bracing Knight’s knee between his paws as my mouth dropped open again. As if doubly determined to let Knight’s knee know just how much affection he held for it, Blue started gyrating again.

“You get down right now, bad boy!” I yelled and yanked on his collar but he didn’t budge. He just tightened his grip on Knight’s leg and glanced back at me with an expression that said “mind your own business. This is between me and the Loki’s knee.”

Finally able to separate my dog from Knight’s pant leg, I forced him outside and tried to keep the flush from my cheeks, still in disbelief that my dog had just mounted him. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Knight said with a grin. “That’s the most action I’ve gotten in months.”

I settled my attention on the three manila folders, trying not to think about Knight getting action at all and searched for a change of subject. “You want to review those now or after dinner?”

“Now is good,” he said, eyeing my flustered face all the while as he handed me the first folder.

Opening it, I immediately noted two pictures paper-clipped to the interior of the folder, one of a smiling brunette with round, twinkling eyes. She looked to be about my age, in her mid-twenties. The other picture was of a woman asleep in a hospital bed, probably in a coma given the context. The still figure on the hospital cot was nothing like the happy woman in the other photo. Her hair had lost its luster and her skin was pale—as if the Dreamstalker had blanched away the color in her cheeks as easily as he’d taken control of her life.

“Her name is Anna Murphy,” Knight said. “The next folder under hers is a woman named Heather Green.”

Anna Murphy … I rolled her name around on my tongue, thinking it sounded strangely familiar, though I wasn’t sure why. Course, it was a pretty common name so maybe it wasn’t anything at all. Heather Green didn’t ring any déjà-vu bells. “And the third person?”

“Jennifer Garrity … but she went by Jenny.”

Jennifer Garrity. A bolt of realization jolted through me. I did know that name. I knew that name well because Jenny Garrity had been my nanny when I was a child. I almost dropped Anna’s file onto the floor. “I knew … I know her,” I said in a small voice, my hands shaking.

“How?” Knight demanded, eyeing me with extreme interest.

“She was my nanny from the time I was born until I went to kindergarten.” She’d been loving and wonderful.

Knight nodded and opened the third file, Jenny Garrity’s I presumed, and jotted down a note. “And Anna Murphy or Heather Green?” he asked.

“Anna Murphy sounds familiar but not Heather Green.”

“Well, they both should sound familiar,” he said and observing my dumbfounded expression, continued. “They were in your second grade class.”

I swallowed hard and felt like I needed to sit down. So I did. I took the chair next to Knight and grabbed the file on top, opening it to see Heather’s name. What I presumed was her senior year photo smiled out at me, revealing a woman with platinum blond hair and full lips. There was no hospital photo. I gulped.

“Did she die?” I asked in a strained voice.

“Yes,” Knight responded.

I closed the file and reached for the third one, for Jenny’s. Relief washed through me when I deduced that Jenny was still alive. According to Knight, there had only been one death. I opened the folder and saw the same Jenny I remembered from my childhood, only she was older now—a few crow’s feet defined her eyes, and some laugh lines etched her mouth.

“What do you suppose this means?” I asked, glancing up at Knight who just stared at me. “Is it a coincidence that I know all three of them?” I wanted nothing more than him to agree, and say, “Yes, it’s definitely coincidence”—that there was nothing to the fact that all three of them were somehow linked to me.

He shrugged. “Could mean something or could mean nothing at all.”

I frowned. “Thanks, that was incredibly insightful.”

He chuckled. “It could merely be coincidence, Dulcie. Don’t you know most of the people in Splendor?”

Yes, I did. I felt relief course through me as I thought about it. How many times had a crime been perpetrated against someone with whom I was personally acquainted? Well, it hadn’t been every day, but it had definitely happened. Splendor was a small town. “Were all three in Splendor?” I asked.

It was his turn to nod. “Yep. That’s why I wasn’t jumping to any conclusions.”

“So that means you’d already made the connection between them and me?”

“Of course,” he said as he stood up and headed to the oven, where he opened the door and pulled out his lasagna. Hmm, it actually looked good. “Fork?” he asked, over his shoulder.

“Top drawer on the right.”

He retrieved the fork, tested his lasagna and apparently not satisfied, pushed it back in the oven. Then he turned around to face me, leaning his incredibly shapely ass against the oven as he crossed his arms against his expansive chest. He was wearing dark jeans and a navy blue tee shirt that made his blue eyes pop. “Did you doubt I’d do my homework regarding the victims?”

I shook my head. “No, just thought I’d double check.”

He cleared his throat and dropped his attention to the ground before bringing it back up to me. “There were two other victims, one in Estuary and one in Moon.”

“Names?” I asked, suddenly feeling a weight in my stomach again.

“Travis Decker from Estuary and …”

And the weight in my stomach suddenly made sense. Now it couldn’t really be described as a “weight” but more a boulder that had settled right in my gut. “Wait just a minute, Travis?”

Knight’s eyes narrowed. “You know him?”

“Yeah, I dated him,” I said and felt the air escape my lungs. I glanced back at Knight. “So much for coincidence?”

He shrugged. “I’m still not convinced, though starting to warm up to it.”

“And the fifth victim?”

“An elderly woman, Shirley Mickelson.”

Shirley Mickelson—I tried the name on for size and couldn’t say I recognized it. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Background on her?” I glanced at the file folders, noticing two were missing and faced him with annoyance. “Why didn’t you bring all the folders?”

“Travis and Shirley just happened, and Elsie didn’t have time to put the folders together.” Elsie was the receptionist at the ANC. Nice to know that Knight wasn’t able to do anything himself …

“What do you mean by just happened?”

“Travis was last night and Shirley was this morning.”

I couldn’t help the guilt that suffused me as I thought about the fact that while I’d been not exactly enjoying myself at Bram’s party, poor Travis Decker, the sweet boy I’d dated for all of a month during my junior year in high school, had succumbed to a Dreamstalker. “What do you know about this Shirley person?”

He shrugged. “Not much. She was a librarian at Rio High School in Moon.”

Hmm, I definitely knew nothing about Rio High, and my dealings with anything in Moon had always been limited because it was two hours from Splendor. “I still think it’s weird that two girls who were in second grade with me, my nanny and old boyfriend were all victims.”

Knight sighed, long and deep. “I think it’s weird too.”

I faced him in annoyance. “But not weird enough that it extends out of the circumference of coincidence.”

“Could be coincidence but could be something more threatening.” He paused for a moment before bringing his eyes back to mine. “I want you to stay with me.”

“What?!” I retorted, laughing in disbelief. “Are you kidding?”

“You’ll be safer if I can keep an eye on you.”

The sudden memory of Knight invading my dreams silenced an acid response that was perched on my tongue. My first introduction to Knight hadn’t truly been an introduction at all. He’d tried to reach me when I’d been dreaming about Quillan who had just happened to be dressed up as a pirate. As if the dream weren’t embarrassing enough, the fact that Knight had witnessed it had been enough to forever humiliate me. But what concerned me most at the moment was the fact that Knight had been able to influence my dreams—maybe he could protect against a Dreamstalker?

“You first contacted me when I was asleep,” I started. “Does that mean you can …”

Knight shook his head with a heartfelt sigh. “Unfortunately not. I’m able to interrupt someone’s slumber to communicate with them but I don’t have the ability to protect them. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’d be safer with me.”

So, as to living with him—there was no point. Besides, I wasn’t a stranger to living with Knight. During our first and most recent case together, we’d been shacked up in my little apartment for over a week, and it hadn’t been pretty. Knight was demanding, difficult, self-centered … ah, the list went on. “No way in hell.”

“If there is more to this situation than coincidence ...”

“What part of ‘no way in hell’ don’t you get?” I demanded. “It was bad enough that I had to deal with you in my own apartment.”

He didn’t seem offended, maybe more amused. “I quite enjoyed myself.”

“I bet you did,” I said, when a bolt of jealousy ricocheted through me as I considered the fact that Angela wouldn’t exactly like it if I were living under Knight’s roof. “And what would you tell Angela?”

He shrugged, and a look of surprise pasted itself on his handsome face. “Why would Angela need to know?”

“You’re impossible.” I shook my head as anger wound its way up my throat, bypassing the boulder that was still resident in my gut. “I like Angela and if you play her and hurt her …”

“Who said I was playing her or going to hurt her?” He looked amused, entirely too amused.

I stood up and wasn’t sure why. It was like my body went into autopilot and wanted to get as far away from him as possible. But I didn’t retreat, I wouldn’t allow myself. “Remember when I said ‘mean what you say and say what you mean’?”

He nodded as I continued. “You aren’t doing a good job.”

Knight lumbered toward me, a smile on his mouth. He reached out to grasp my shoulders. “Your jealousy is very … becoming.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not jealous. I’m merely concerned for … Angela.”

“Angela’s a big girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she can make her own decisions. She knows I’m not in the market for a relationship.”

I snaked out of his hold and backed away. “You are a pig.”

He chuckled but his laugh was laced with derision. “Why? Because I’m honest?”

“Because you want your cake and eat it too. Haven’t you considered that people have feelings, Knight? That you can’t just play a woman and expect her to accept it submissively?”

He studied me for a moment. “Where is this coming from, and why are you so upset?”

I felt a fiery flow of anger bubble up within me. Knight represented everything I disliked and distrusted about the opposite sex. He was another Jack, a clone of the asshole I’d dated two years ago, who had cheated on me and basically destroyed my drive to ever get involved with a man again. Someone who was only out for himself, for whatever he deemed his prize and then he was on to the next kill as pretty as he pleased. “I detest men like you.”

Knight’s eyes went wide, as if he hadn’t been expecting such rancor from me. He grabbed my arm, and I shrugged out of his hold. “Whoa, Dulcie, if you’re going to detest me, I at least deserve to know why.”

“I don’t like players.”

“Who said I’m a player?” he asked and he clutched my arm as if to say he wouldn’t release me until I’d given him a damn good reason as to why I detested him. Well, he was about to get it.

“The way you flirt with Angela and me and well, really, every woman alive, and pretend to be totally interested but then say you aren’t looking for a relationship …” I tried to pull out of his grip but he wouldn’t release me. His fingers were beginning to hurt.

He chuckled harder this time and grabbed both my arms. When I attempted to wiggle away from him, he clamped down … hard. “Allow me to defend myself. I am not what you term a ‘player.’ I’ve never lied to Angela. On our first date …”

“Oh, there was a first date?” I snapped and suddenly felt a spire of embarrassment course through me. I hadn’t wanted to sound so freaking concerned.

“Yes,” he hissed. “I told her exactly what my intentions were.”

“And what were they?”

“That I’m not planning on sticking around Splendor for a long time, and I’m not looking for a relationship.”

I swallowed my pride. Hot Hades, why did I give such a damn about this hulking man? What was it about him that just set me off? He made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years. And what did it say about me that I had to fight feelings for someone who was such an …

“And Angela just blindly agreed to your stipulations?” I demanded, anger in every crevice of my voice. “Agreed to just have sex with you? Yeah, I really believe that.” And if she had agreed, Angela went way down in my estimation.

“Sex? Whoever said anything about sex?” Knight insisted, and his grip on my arms tightened, as if just the word sex had released the latent animal within him. I wondered if his eyes would start glowing again. Before they had the chance, he looked away for maybe two seconds before glancing back at me, apparently now more in control of himself. His strangle hold on my arms softened.

“Angela and I are friends,” he said softly.

I tried to break free of his grasp again and was surprised when he released me. I rubbed the soreness out of my arms and glared up at him again. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Dulcie,” he said firmly. “But you won’t let me defend myself.”

I wouldn’t allow him to defend himself because there was nothing to defend. His alibi wasn’t exactly water tight. “So if you and Angela are just friends as you claim, why was she all over you at Bram’s party?”

He shrugged. “She’d had a lot to drink.”

“And why were you all over her?” That wasn’t a fair question—he hadn’t exactly been all over her. In fact, any initiation of closeness had really been on her part. But the words were out so no use in taking them back.

“I don’t recall that I was.” He was silent a moment before a smile captured his lips. “And any … attentions I might have paid Angela were merely to make a certain beautiful fairy jealous.”

I swallowed hard and if I’d had a baseball bat, I would have beaten down the ray of pleasure that visited me at his words. “You wanted to make me jealous?” I asked dubiously. “Why?”

Knight’s lips were tight and his jaw even tighter. He took a step closer to me, and I took one back. “Because in case you haven’t been paying attention,” he paused, “I like you.”

“But you aren’t looking for a relationship,” I spat back in his face.

“With Angela.”

I had to beat down another feeling of happiness. Was I really buying this crap? Was I, Dulcie O’Neil, known for being tough as nails, really succumbing to this trite shit? What the hell was wrong with me? “Oh, so you aren’t looking for a relationship in general, but you want one with me?” Good, my voice had sounded angry and laced with sarcasm.

He shrugged casually before offering me the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

I dropped my eyes, trying to wipe away the visual of his smile and how it lit his entire face. “This whole conversation is stupid.”

“You brought it up,” he started, and there was something in his tone—something reserved and angry. “I was just defending myself against your accusation of me being a player. Regardless of what you think, I’m honest and I always have been.”

“This is becoming way too personal for me. Let’s shelve it and move on.”

Knight’s jaw was tight. “Let’s not. How about you tell me why you were with Bram last night?”

If his jaw was tight, mine was suddenly tighter. Who the hell did he think he was, questioning me? Granted I’d just questioned him but … so what? “That’s none of your business.”

“You made it your business to snoop into my affairs with Angela so I’m making it my business.”

I took two steps closer to him until we were nose to nose. I was fuming, irate. “You chose to answer my questions. That doesn’t mean I have to answer yours.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Dulcie.” He eradicated any distance between us until we were so close, I could feel his breath against my neck. A tremor started deep down in my belly and worked its way up into my gut.

“What is Bram to you?” Knight whispered, and I could feel hardness emanating between his legs and brushing against my thigh.

I didn’t drop my gaze but glared at him full bore. “He’s my lover,” I lied.

Knight laughed but it was an ugly sound. He grabbed the back of my neck, holding me immobile and returned my glare. “Liar.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Let go of me.”

“Tell me Bram is not your lover.”

“Why, are you jealous?” I asked.

“Yes,” he growled, and his eyes warned me not to play with him, not to incite him when he was this close to the edge. I was quiet as I watched him, watched that bizarre glow overtake his eyes and this time he didn’t avert his gaze to hide it. No, he wanted me to see what I was doing to him, that there was something in him he couldn’t control. I’d never been so turned on in my life.

“Bram isn’t my lover,” I said in a soft voice and nearly fell over when Knight released me. He grabbed my arm to stabilize me and immediately let go as if I’d burned him. Suddenly the smell of cheese was thick in my nose. “Smells like your lasagna is burning.”

***

I knew I was sleeping but my dreams had never been quite so lucid, images so vibrant and crisp, I felt as if I could reach out and touch them. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, finding the velvet blackness of night was still in full effect. There was something I needed to do, something that was on the brink of happening. Something bad. It was one of those gut feelings.

I stood up and was seized by a pain reverberating through my head. It felt as if my brain was being torn apart, all my memories and thoughts being dissected by a sharp blade. I fell to my knees and grabbed my throbbing head, willing the pain to go away.

And, just like that, it did. I was suddenly free of pain but I was somewhere I couldn’t comprehend—somewhere unknown to me. It was like I’d been plucked from my bedroom and deposited on a street I didn’t recognize. A cold wind whipped around my shoulders, and I glanced down at my white lace singlet and baby blue pajama shorts. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the cold and glanced up at the front of a townhouse—a modern structure that glared down at me in an array of hard angles and bleak whiteness. The numbers 3467 delineated the corner of the door, and somehow I knew those numbers were important, that I had to remember them.

Before I had the chance to think, something flashed by me. I couldn’t see it but I could feel the death imprint it carried—something powerful, something evil. In an amorphous blur of darkness, it vaporized into the door before me, and I had no choice but to follow. It wanted me to follow—I could feel the distinct urge to continue after it, as if it were beckoning me. I reached for the doorknob, and my hand went through it. Shrugging, I took a hesitant step forward and found myself merging with the door, entering the room beyond it.

The sounds of crashing and fighting snapped me out of my initial trepidation and I forced myself forward, following the noises down a dark hallway and into a bedroom where my eyes settled on the shadows of two men. One was in a huge bed that dominated the room and the other was atop him, pummeling him with fists full of hatred. The man in the bed didn’t resist his attacker. He merely lay there in quiet repose while the entity pounded him repeatedly. I had the sudden desire, the sheer need to protect the man in the bed.

I started forward and suddenly came up against an invisible barrier, something stopping me from reaching the bed. I shook my hand, waiting for the telltale sign of fairy dust to emerge in my palm so I could blow the dust toward the barrier and simply eliminate it but my fairy dust never materialized.

The man in the bed continued to lie there, immobile, amidst his blood-stained sheets. The thing atop him shifted to the side, pulling itself away from the bed and allowed me to gaze at the man. My heart about stopped.

“Knight!” I screamed and beat my ineffectual palms against the invisible wall. My voice just bounced off the unseen barrier and died in the air.

Knight’s attacker was no longer an amorphous shadow. He’d taken an outline of a man and was now facing me. I couldn’t make out his features, I couldn’t even see his face. He was just etched in darkness, outlined by night. But I didn’t have to see his face to realize what and who he was. I knew it deep down in my gut because he wanted me to know it. The Dreamstalker. I felt a smile radiating outward from him. A smile coming from that dark shade of his face.

He leaned over Knight while I held my breath.

I woke with a start, my heart pounding.

I couldn’t shake the nightmare from my mind. And the main reason was that I was convinced it hadn’t been a nightmare at all but an omen from my own subconscious. It had been a warning. A warning from the Dreamstalker.

I leapt out of my bed and glanced at the clock. It was 2:00 a.m. Reaching for the phone on my side table, I speed dialed Knight. It just rang.

I dialed again. It just rang.

I dialed again.

It just rang.

FOUR

I wasted no time in throwing on a pair of panties, jeans, a bra and an oversized sweatshirt. I grabbed the Op 6 (a gun most similar to a 9mm Glock but loaded with dragon blood bullets instead of lead—dragon’s blood being toxic to any Netherworld creatures) from underneath my mattress and slid it into the waist at the back of my pants, the way I’d seen Knight do so many times. Slipping on my Reef thongs, I grabbed my keys and headed for my Wrangler which was luckily parked just outside my apartment.

I beeped the car unlocked with my remote, hoisted myself into the driver’s seat and tore out of my spot, headed for Shamrock Street. I could see the numbers 3467 in my head as if the imprint of Knight’s door was forever burned into my subconscious. I could only hope it was the right address and not some trick of my mind. I wouldn’t allow myself to ponder whether I’d just had a meaningless nightmare. Assumptions led to dead people and I wasn’t about to include Knight in that thought. Better to be too careful.

There was no one on the road at this hour which was just as well since I was driving like a demon on Bayn, the Netherworld’s version of speed. Unfortunately, Shamrock Street was on the opposite end of Splendor so I’d just have to drive that much faster to get there before Knight succumbed to whatever the Dreamstalker was doing to him.

Images of Knight being pummeled into a bloody mess continued to plague me, reinventing themselves into a myriad of bloody possibilities until I wanted to scream. Hoping to find a distraction, I turned on the radio and tried to focus on the inane chatter of the DJ. I took a turn a little too sharply and the tires squealed in protest. No matter, I was almost to Shamrock.

When I turned on Shamrock, it was like I was in slow motion—like I’d just entered my nightmare. Everything was as I’d seen it—a wide street with various cars interrupting the concrete line of the curb. Dark oak trees dominated either side of the street, growing out of the ground like gnarled and deformed hands. I didn’t need to look at the house numbers to know which was Knight’s—it was at the end of the street, on the right with the numbers 3467 vertically embossed on the door.

I stepped on the gas and turned the headlights off, not wanting to draw attention to myself. It was tough to see, especially since any moonlight was prohibited from helping me because the oak trees created an umbra of darkness above me. I peered out at the row of houses and recognizing Knight’s townhouse, pulled over. No lights illuminated the windows—it was quiet, deathly in its serenity.

Even though there was an open spot directly in front of Knight’s house, I parked the Wrangler at the end of the street, not wanting to alert the Dreamstalker to the fact that I was outside. I killed the engine and opened the door, hopping down on the concrete. I kicked off my thongs and checked my waistband for the Op 6. Feeling the coldness of steel reassured me, and I gulped as I started for the townhouse barefoot. I didn’t lock the Wrangler’s doors—in case we needed to make a quick escape.

I tiptoed to the door and fisted my hand, shaking it until a mound of fairy dust emerged from my palm. It felt like clutching glitter, and some lustrous flakes escaped my palm, twinkling in the shards of moonlight as they danced through the night air and landed on the ground. I opened my palm and leaned down until I was eye level with the doorknob. Then I closed my eyes, imagining the door unlocking and opening with a soundproof shield so as not to enlighten anyone as to what I was up to. I blew the particles and opened my eyes, watching them sail through the still air and penetrate the keyhole. The knob turned to the left and didn’t make a sound. The door opened as if a ghost were bidding me entrance.

Pulling the Op 6 from my waistband, I held it up against my face and continued forward, the cold of the concrete assaulting my feet and wending its way up my legs like a rash. I entered Knight’s house and blinked against the intense darkness. Even though it had been dark outside, the few glints of moonlight forcing themselves through the tree branches had seemed like the sun compared to the velvet blackness of Knight’s house. I could have whipped up some fairy dust and magicked myself night vision but I was too afraid of losing my focus—situations like these didn’t allow for a lack of focus.

Instead, I sidled along the wall, my Op 6 clutched in my hands as my heart hammered through my ears, the sound as deafening as a roaring wave. That was when I realized the only noise I could hear was my heart—there were no sounds of struggling, no sounds of escaping, no sounds of anything. I had to swallow the sudden nausea that overcame me—silence could mean Knight was dead, that I was too late. But I wouldn’t think of that, I couldn’t allow myself to even consider it. I forced myself down the hallway, knowing where his bedroom was, where I might be confronted with a scene that would forever burn itself in my memory.

His bedroom door was closed. I took a deep breath, gripped the gun even tighter and pivoted on my left foot until I was directly in front of the door. Then I silently counted to three, turned the doorknob and dropped to my knees (so someone shooting at the door wouldn’t take my head off), aiming the gun into the darkness. Nothing.

I stood up and with my gun held arm’s length in front of me, I checked the perimeter of the room, noticing a bathroom just beyond the bed. The bed … Knight wasn’t in it and from what I could tell in the sliver of moonlight eclipsing the narrow slit of the curtains, there wasn’t any blood staining the sheets. Yes, the blankets were rumpled but … no Knight. I started for the bathroom when I heard the sounds of something big, and that something big was moving fast. Before I had the chance to respond, it bowled into me and knocked me clear across the room. I let out a scream as my Op 6 flew out of my hand and skidded across the floor, coming to a stop underneath the bed. Dammit!

I braced myself for my attacker and felt him atop me as soon as I turned onto my back. Remembering my training, I went for his eyes.

“Dulcie, for fuck’s sake!” Knight screamed as he avoided my fingers.

“Knight!” I gasped and pulled away from him, relieved my fingers had just missed his eyes. Instead, I’d landed a pretty good scratch to the side of his face. “You aren’t dead?” I whispered.

“Dead?” he repeated, shaking his head. “No, but I came close to joining ranks with Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles.” He paused for a minute and then glanced at me again. “What the hell are you doing breaking in here and then pulling a Three Stooges on me?”

“Going for the eyes is the first thing you learn in self-defense training,” I started and then remembering the fact that the Dreamstalker might still be in our proximity, I immediately lunged for my gun which was still underneath the bed. After grabbing it, I lurched to my feet. “Where the hell is the Dreamstalker?”

“Calm down, Curly, I’m alone.”

I faced him but didn’t drop my gun. “No one attacked you tonight?”

Knight was silent a moment before a smile appeared on his lips. “Just you.”

I gulped and felt the heat of complete and total mortification flood my cheeks. It had been a nightmare, just a meaningless, innocuous fabrication of my mind. A fabrication that had led me to breaking and entering and in the process, I’d nearly blinded Knight. “Shit,” I began.

“Shit?” Knight repeated and turned on the light. I blinked against the sudden attack on my retinas and squinted up at him, noticing a trail of blood coursing down his temple where I’d clawed him.

“I thought you were being attacked,” I said in a small voice and turned for the bathroom, where I noticed a hand towel on the towel rack. I grabbed it and didn’t miss my reflection in the mirror. I was completely white, any trace of color in my face drained. A sheen of sweat highlighted my forehead, and I had to catch my breath to force the adrenalin that was currently pumping through me to dissipate. I sighed a deep breath and remembering Knight and his bleeding wound, approached him with an embarrassed smile. He leaned down, and I held the towel up to the contusion, applying pressure to get the blood to ebb.

“Those towels were expensive,” he said.

“Well, luckily for you, blood comes out in cold water.”

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” he said, but his voice wasn’t angry.

I nodded. “That’s fair enough.”

He took the towel from me, apparently uncomfortable with bending down to accept my ministrations. “Let’s get some coffee and start from the beginning.” He started for the hallway with me on his tail. Turning on another light in the hall, he led me into the kitchen, where I took a seat at the bar.

For the first time that evening, I had enough of my wits to take in Knight’s house. It was completely and totally modern, just like I’d imagined it would be. A black leather sofa dominated the living room and the black and white New York skyline wall art behind it merely added to the starkness. A white sheepskin rug and a glass coffee table were the only other items to share the room. Oh, and the enormous flat screen TV.

I turned my attention back to Knight and watched him starting a pot of coffee. That was when I realized he was dressed only in a pair of navy blue boxer shorts. His naked chest with its incredible proportions and the scar running across one of his pecs met me like an old friend. I remembered first seeing it when we’d been en route to Dagan’s S&M club, Payne. Knight had told me a were had been at fault but I’d never really gotten the gory details. There had been something in his body language that hinted to the fact that it wasn’t a pleasant memory.

Knight’s deep chuckle pulled me from my reverie, and I realized I’d been zoning out, staring at his midsection. I glanced up at him and frowned. He was just temptation rolled into one luscious package.

“Can’t you put on some clothes?” I grumbled.

“Sorry, lady, you chose to break into my house—this is how I sleep.”

“I didn’t break into your house,” I snapped and then caught myself. “Well, I did, but it was only to defend you from the Dreamstalker.”

Knight nodded and folded his arms across his chest, hiding my view of his scar. His eyes were smiling, as if he was amused with the whole situation; as if he’d chosen to spend his evening defending himself from a home intrusion.

“This is where it would be good to start from the beginning,” he said.

So I did. I described my nightmare in vivid detail, down to the fact that I could see the numbers of his house in my mind. And that was the part of my story that struck me the hardest. How could I have known where Knight lived? “It wasn’t like you ever told me what the numbers were,” I continued. “You just told me you lived on Shamrock Street.”

Knight shrugged, acting as though there was nothing unusual at all. “Maybe you had my full address stored in your subconscious—you could have seen a letter with the address, or maybe Sam told you.”

I shook my head, anger suddenly overtaking me. “How would I have gotten my hands on your mail?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “And I hate to break your self-centered bubble, Knight, but Sam and I don’t waste our time talking about you.” Okay, that was a lie if ever I’d said one but I had some face to save. And the guy was cocky as all get out so he deserved it.

Seemingly disregarding the direction of our conversation, he opened his cupboard and pulled out two white mugs before glancing at me. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Milk and sugar.”

We both were silent as he poured milk into my cup of coffee, followed by two spoonfuls of sugar before stirring it. He handed me the cup and watched me for a second or two before turning to tend to his own. “So back to the Dreamstalker … you thought I was being murdered?”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, I cradled the coffee cup in my hands, allowing the heat to warm me.

Knight glanced at me over his shoulder while he poured himself a cup of black coffee, not pausing to add sugar or milk. “So you drove over here and took your life into your hands?”

I was quiet as I considered it. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

He faced me and took a sip of his coffee, not waiting for it to cool. But I wasn’t surprised—the fact that heat didn’t bother him was a trait of his that was already in the Loki list of abilities I kept on him. I think it was around number five or so.

“It didn’t occur to you to call the ANC?”

Hmm, I hadn’t even considered calling the ANC. The next thought that ram-rodded my mind was whether or not he was judging me. Did he think I’d made a mistake in not reporting it to the ANC? If he did, he had an argument coming. “I didn’t have a lot of time to think, Knight,” I blurted out.

He appeared unfazed. “So it looks like I’m indebted to you for saving my life yet again?”

He was referring to the time I’d had to make a decision between letting Quillan escape or acting as backup for Knight. I’d let Quill go and I’d never forgiven myself for it. “I don’t want to get into that subject,” I began, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I know you don’t, Dulce, so we won’t. But I do want to say thanks … again.” His gaze was so intense, it was like he was looking through me. Finally he smiled. “You definitely have my back.”

I cocked my head and took a sip of the coffee. “I guess you could say that.”

He leaned against the counter, directly in front of me. He held his coffee but made no motion to sip it and instead just watched me. “You are braver than most men I’ve worked with, Dulcie.”

“Brave or stupid?” I laughed but the laugh was wiped clean off my face when I brought my eyes back to his.

“Brave,” he said in a very deep voice, almost gravelly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I started and dropped my attention to my shaking hands. I wasn’t sure if I was shaking from leftover adrenalin or due to the fact that Knight was staring at me so blatantly. I could feel myself shrinking underneath his gaze and didn’t like the feeling so I forced myself to meet his stare.

“Why?” he insisted, finally taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes never left mine.

“Because it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

Ergh, the “fun” was about to start. “Can’t you just accept the fact that I forced myself out of bed at two a.m. to come and save your ass? Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“Can’t you accept the fact that I want nothing more than to feel you writhing underneath me?” Knight asked with a wicked smile, and I felt my stomach disintegrate. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“Touché,” I said and stood up, starting for the door. I had the sudden urge to escape, to withdraw into the safety of my car and get the hell home. “Well, seeing as how you’re fine, I guess I can be going.”

“Nope.” He was incredibly fast and was in front of me before I could even take another step.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded, shocked. He’d moved almost as fast as Bram had in the limo—well, not quite that fast but fast enough to be concerned.

“Add it to your list of my Loki abilities,” Knight said in a dismissive tone. “You aren’t going anywhere. Not at this hour and not when you’re still shaken up.”

“I’m fine,” I said although I wasn’t sure I was. I felt like I needed a long soak in a hot bath and afterwards an even longer nap.

“I’m not taking any chances with you out there alone.”

“So follow me home.”

“It’s too cold outside.”

“It’s sixty degrees. Any more excuses?”

He laughed. “I’m fresh out. But that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t leaving.”

I didn’t say anything more but started past him. He just sidestepped me and grabbed hold of my upper arms. “Don’t make me hold you kicking and screaming.”

I pulled out of his grip and faced him with my hands on my hips and said nothing for a second or two as I battled with what to say. “I’m not going to have sex with you, Knight, so if that’s the reason you’re forcing me to stay, you might as well let me go.”

His jaw was tight. “You think that’s the reason I won’t let you leave?”

I shrugged. “Eight ball’s sources say yes.”

He chuckled. “Dulcie, we both know I want nothing more than to have wild, raw sex with you, but that has nothing to do with my decision. It’s obvious you’re still freaked out over your nightmare—you’re shaking so bad you look like you have palsy. You need company tonight.”

I attempted to push him aside but it was like pushing a wall. “I’m fine.”

He grabbed hold of my arms again and turned me to face him. “Do you trust me?”

Hmm, trust was a tough subject. I’d trusted Jack and look where that had led me. Moreover, trust was anything but black and white—there were levels of trust. And, based on the fact that Knight and I were partners, I guess I had to trust him to an extent. “I guess so.”

His eyes were caring, opened wide in their blue depths. He took my hand and squeezed it. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Feeling myself cornered with no way out, I exhaled. Well, the truth of the matter was it was late, and I was tired and didn’t want to drive all the way back to my house. And, yes, I was still afraid I’d have another nightmare. “Do you have a guest room?” I asked in a tired, defeated voice.

“I do but there isn’t any furniture in it.” He smiled.

“Of course there isn’t.”

“Do you trust me or don’t you?”

I sighed. “I trust you.”

“Then sleep in my bed. You have my word that I won’t try a thing. But all the adrenaline I wasted when you attacked me is taking its toll and I’m tired.” He stepped aside and motioned to the hallway. “After you.”

Shaking my head, I started down the hallway and turned toward his bedroom. The thought of sleeping next to him was a strange one. I mean, on the one hand I was afraid—afraid of the burgeoning feelings I had for Knight—especially when I didn’t think it was a good idea to feel anything for him. And on the other hand, I wanted nothing more than to feel his large hands all over my body—he was awakening sexual desires within me that I’d been repressing for years, ever since Jack had done his damage.

“Get in my bed and take your clothes off,” Knight’s voice was a whisper behind me.

“I thought I told you …”

“Trust, Dulcie, trust.”

I set the Op 6 down on his dresser and considered my options. He had a point—I couldn’t exactly sleep in jeans—well, more pointedly, it wouldn’t be comfortable. But just because I was going to strip down didn’t mean he had to witness the whole thing. “Can I have some privacy please?”

“Of course,” he said with a secretive smile and rather than exiting the room, merely turned to face the wall.

I wasn’t in the mood to argue and, instead, just approached the bed, tearing off my sweatshirt and jeans. I checked behind my shoulder to make sure Knight was still facing the wall and then hurled myself under the covers in record time, just in case he turned around early.

“Alright, I’m decent,” I said.

He turned to face me with a smile that sent shivers racing up my spine. I was in Knight’s bed and we were both half naked. Granted, I didn’t think anything would happen, but the thought was enough to cause a flurry of anxiety in my stomach. Knight didn’t say anything but headed for the bed, his eyes on mine the entire time. He pulled the covers aside and slid in next to me, his body as scorching hot as the desert in the middle of summer. Even so, I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. I turned on my side, away from him.

“Keep your boxers on,” I said.

“Wasn’t planning on removing them.” He rolled over until he was facing me—I could tell by the fact that his breath was fanning across my cheek and shoulder and giving me goose bumps.

“So tell me more about the Dreamstalker. Do you think the dream was a warning?”

I snuggled into the covers and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling extremely tired, aided no doubt by the warmth radiating from him. He was like a heater. “I thought you said you were tired?”

He chuckled. “It passed. Just humor me, will you?”

“I think it was just a nightmare.”

I gulped at the feel of his hands on my back. “You have knots in your back … tension knots.”

I didn’t say anything but rolled onto my stomach, thinking nothing would feel better than a backrub a la Knight. Remembering how great Knight’s hands had been on my calf cramp, I reminded myself that a massage didn’t have to be sexual. People got massages all the time, right? How was this any different? Not wanting to face the lie in that statement, I merely closed my eyes and tried to focus on sleeping.

I felt Knight pull the covers away, and the cold air fiercely assaulted my backside. Knight straddled me above my thighs, and I couldn’t say I felt the cold anymore. All I could feel was heat on my face considering my butt was basically bare—just clad in a white thong. I started to shift uneasily until I felt Knight’s hand against my back.

“Dulcie, I won’t do anything.”

I swallowed and nodded, closing my eyes as he started rubbing the tops of my shoulders, manipulating the stress out of my muscles.

“Although I will say you have one hell of a great ass,” Knight added with a chuckle. “That’s a visual I’ll commit to memory.”

“Knight,” I started.

“Just playing with you,” he whispered and set to massaging my entire back, kneading my sore muscles until I could feel myself beginning to relax little by little. “Thanks for what you did tonight, Dulce.”

I didn’t open my eyes and was dangerously close to falling asleep. “Welcome.”

“You probably don’t believe it but it means a lot to me.”

I was so tired I didn’t even complain when I felt his hands on my butt. The funny part was that I did trust him. Even though I was almost naked in his bed and he was rubbing my butt, I trusted him, and I knew he wouldn’t try anything. It just wasn’t in him to—Knight was the type of man who would want a woman to come to him one hundred percent of her own accord.

“I believe you,” I whispered.

“I will always keep you safe, Dulce. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

I wasn’t sure if he really said it or if I dreamt he had.

FIVE

Sam was in a coma.

Now I was taking things personally.

I glanced down at the unmoving body of my best friend and felt a sob choke my throat. Sam’s face was pale—almost as pale as the unnatural white of the pillow beneath her head, the same stark, bleached non-color that characterized the entirety of the hospital room. There was an unattended chair beside Sam’s cot but I didn’t take it. Instead, I stood staring down at her, cringing at the sound of a beeping monitor, endless in its monotony.

Knight had delivered the news this morning—almost immediately after I’d snuck out, leaving him sleeping in his bed and driven to my house, completely confused as to where things stood with him. But I had no time to come to a realization because the second I stepped through my door, I was accosted by the shrill ring of the phone.

I’d come as quickly as I could.

Apparently, Sam had succumbed to the Dreamstalker the previous evening … when I’d been at Knight’s. Guilt had been my constant companion since I’d learned the news this morning. I kept replaying the “what ifs” through my mind, over and over again. What if I’d stayed home and hadn’t gone to Knight’s—would Sam still be in a coma? Had Sam tried to call me while I was at Knight’s? I’d checked my machine and I didn’t have any messages or missed calls. Even so, I couldn’t shake the guilt. And more than the guilt, anger and humiliation coursed through me. The Dreamstalker had set me up—and I’d fallen for his bait like a dumbass. The bastard had to be laughing now—at the fact that he’d orchestrated his plan so well—he’d duped me with the nightmare about Knight and knowing I’d rush to Knight’s side, Sam was his for the taking. He’d easily influenced her dreams and landed her in the hospital. Piece of cake.

Another sob strangled me, and I reached for Sam’s hand. It felt cold and lifeless in mine. Even with the incessant beeping of the life support machine that had now wedged itself into my head like a pulsating electric wire, I checked the monitor above her head to ensure her heartbeat was still strong. White lines traveled across the black display in perfect uniformity which meant Sam was still holding on.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” I whispered. “If you can hear me, I want you to know I’m going to get you out of this, I promise.”

“Hey, Dulce.”

My breath caught in my throat even as I realized it wasn’t Sam’s voice. I glanced up at the intruder, feeling my hand instinctively covering my heart, trying to calm the sporadic beating. I was met with the concerned person of Trey, my old coworker.

I smiled but didn’t feel it. “Hi, Trey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He took a few hesitant steps, forcing his hands into his pants pockets as he skulked forward. Trey and I had a long history of working together, and he used to be the perpetual thorn in my side. After our last case, though, he’d really proven himself to be a useful member of our team, and I guess I had to admit I liked him.

“How are you doing?” he asked and from his swollen eyes, I could see he hadn’t taken Sam’s dire predicament well. He ran a grubby hand across his forehead and pushed a piece of oily hair back into place. Trey was not a good looking person—he was overweight, short, and for all intents and purposes, resembled a tree stump.

“I’m doing,” I answered in a small voice and turned my face so he wouldn’t see the tears trailing down my cheeks.

“Knight called and said he’s on his way down,” he replied while handing me a wadded up piece of tissue from his pants pocket. It felt warm and wet but I accepted it anyway, hoping to Hades it was wet with tears and not something more … gross.

I wiped my eyes. “Thanks.”

“How long have you been here?”

I glanced at the clock. “Maybe forty minutes.” It felt incredibly longer, like I’d been staring down at my unmoving friend for an eternity.

He nodded. “And you think it’s the Dreamstalker?”

At the mention of the vile creature’s name, my jaw tightened. “I don’t think, Trey—I’m sure it is.”

Trey nodded again and I wasn’t sure what was going through his mind. He, himself, was a goblin though not of the same family as a somnogobelinus, or sleep goblin. Trey was a hobgoblin. Many hobgoblins possessed the ability to see glimpses of the future and the past and in Trey’s case, his ability was profound which is why he’d made it into the ANC. His gift was definitely an asset for law enforcement.

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated down the hall, and I turned my attention to the doorway just as Knight’s large body filled it. I couldn’t keep my heartbeat from skipping and returned my attention to Sam. A pang of guilt stabbed my gut, guilt over being at Knight’s, yes, but also guilt over the fact that I’d bailed on him this morning without so much as a good-bye.

“How’s she doing?” Knight asked in his deep baritone and strode up until he was right beside me, the warmth of his breath fanning the back of my neck. I glanced up at him, and he smiled in greeting, but it was sad and once his attention found Sam again, he dropped his eyes and sighed.

I shrugged. “Last time I saw the nurse, she said Sam was stable … that she was basically just asleep—a deep sleep.”

He nodded, and his smell wafted around me—something spicy and entirely male. I decided to breathe through my mouth.

“I requested ANC staff to tend to Sam. Was that seen to?” Knight asked, in a stern voice. By ANC staff, he meant creatures of the Netherworld as opposed to humans. As otherworldly creatures, we’d been out of the proverbial closet for over fifty years, and in that time we’d managed to assimilate with humans. While this was good for everyday purposes such as voting rights, marriage rights and non-segregated schools, it wasn’t great when it came to life and death situations, such as emergency room visits. Suppose you were a fairy or a warlock who ended up in a human-run emergency room? Yeah, you might as well be dead. Luckily for Sam, she had us looking after her.

“Yes, the last nurse to visit was a Hydra,” I answered.

Hydras were water serpents and they were known for their foul tempers, as well as their multiple heads. Luckily, this nurse just had one—I’d never been comfortable making conversation with more than one head—I never knew which one to focus on. And Hydras with two or more heads—they could argue with themselves for hours. Trying to interview one about a case wasn’t easy, much less fun.

“Good, good,” Knight mumbled as his eyes settled on mine. The room was dead silent for a second or two, aside from the infernal beeping of the monitor.

I cleared my throat. “So I think it’s fair to say I’m now considering this case a personal one.” My voice was sharp, as if daring Knight to argue with me. “The Dreamstalker is doing this to toy with me, to let me know I’m next.”

He was quiet for a second or two and then nodded, as if in agreement. “I think that’s safe to assume.”

“So what are we going to do?” Trey demanded and took a step closer to me, anger flexing his voice. “We can’t let the freakazoid get anywhere near Dulcie, Knight.”

“Astute,” Knight answered him with the façade of a smile.

“I’m not gonna wait around and watch my friends get picked off one by one,” Trey finished, and I patted him on the back as if to say I wasn’t about to be picked off—that this Dreamstalker was going to have one hell of a fight on his hands.

“I’ve arranged a visit to Moon,” Knight started and cracked his knuckles. “We need to find out what the Regulators there know about this business.” One more crack of his knuckles and then he glanced at me. “Didn’t you say there was one victim’s name you didn’t recognize?”

“Yeah, the old woman.”

“Mrs. Mickelson,” Trey finished.

“Shirley, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes,” Knight finished. “She lives in Moon so it’s only fair that we contact Moon’s ANC force and get them involved.”

I smiled. “I didn’t know teamwork was part of your vocab.”

Knight returned the smile. “Then I guess I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?”

“Oh, barf!” Trey interrupted, shaking his head. “You both are going to make me spew up my lunch. There should be a new rule for Regulators—no flirting.”

I didn’t correct him by saying I wasn’t really considered a Regulator anymore. No, I was too mortified that I’d been caught flirting with Knight. Flirting—it wasn’t even a word that should have been part of my vocab. Ergh.

***

It took us two and a half hours to reach Moon, thanks to the unrelenting traffic. Knight drove us in his souped-up BMW and after Trey’s comment about us flirting, I’d willingly offered him the front seat to which Knight had arched his brow but said nothing. There was definitely an elephant in the room where Knight and I were concerned, but we had bigger fish to fry so the elephant would remain.

The ANC headquarters in Moon wasn’t quite as large as our ANC Headquarters but the building seemed to be newer and in much better condition. Rather than being stark white with only two windows looming out of the whiteness like a pair of angry eyes, Moon’s ANC was built entirely of bricks, warm brown in color. There were multiple windows and nothing that reminded me of the Amityville House—something that always came to mind whenever I visited our Headquarters.

Knight approached the front desk attendant while Trey and I took a seat in the waiting room—a large space with green and blue carpeting, matching upholstered chairs and an Ikea looking coffee table, overflowing with a cornucopia of magazines. Trey hobbled up to the table and inspected each magazine as if he were a pulp connoisseur. He reached out a pudgy hand, selecting his reading material and upon further inspection, I had to swallow the laugh in my throat.

“Glamour? Trey, really?”

“Don’t hate, Dulce, there are some hot ass women in these mags.” He didn’t wait for my response but opened the magazine and started shaking his head in silent appreciation, pursing his lips like he was about to whistle.

“Dulce, Trey,” Knight called to us and tilted his head toward the hallway, giving us the charade of “follow me.” I stood up, and Trey trailed me, rolling the magazine and tucking it into the back of his pants. I just shook my head and followed Knight down a long corridor, which ended in an office. I couldn’t see past Knight’s broad shoulders so I stood behind him, waiting for introductions.

“Well hello to you, tall, dark and handsome …”

Knight laughed, and I felt like kicking him right in the ass. Or maybe I should have delivered the kicking blow to the woman. Course, she had no idea how big Knight’s ego already was …

“Today isn’t my birthday, so what can I do for you?” she continued.

Knight entered the woman’s office and offered his hand. “I’m Knight Vander, acting chief of the ANC Headquarters in Splendor. Thanks for agreeing to meet with us.”

“Ah, I thought you looked important,” the woman answered with a bell-like laugh. “And I do like important men.”

Knight stepped aside and allowed Trey and me to enter. The woman turned her attention to us and looked a little surprised; probably not having realized Knight had brought his entourage. She sat behind a large oak desk, the brilliant red of her blouse in contrast with the rich caramel of the wood.

“Dia Robinson, I presume?” Knight asked with a flirtatious smile.

“Honey, I’ll answer to anything as long as it’s coming from you,” she gushed at him prettily with the slightest inkling of a southern drawl. She motioned to the seat directly opposite her desk, and Knight took it, nodding his head in thanks.

The woman faced me next, and I took a step forward, offering my hand. “I’m Dulcie O’Neil.”

She shook my hand, and I was immediately taken by the feeling of energy coming off her. It was as if an army of ants was charging its way down her hand and into my arm, forcing their way into my chest. I swore my heart sped up a beat or two. It was all I could do not to pull my hand away because at that moment, I realized what type of creature Dia was. She was a goblin. Of the sleep variety, a somnogobelinus.

After a few seconds, I yanked my hand away and eyed her warily, but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she looked me up and down, a warm smile on her kind and pretty face before she turned back to Knight.

“Well, you two look like the dream team,” she said, facing me again. “I’m Dia but my friends call me Diva.” She paused a second or two, eyeing me as if she were studying a bug she was about to dissect. “And seeing as how you’re a fairy, you must have deduced what type of creature I am.” There was nothing accusatory or defensive in her tone.

“Yes,” I answered between stiff lips. Even as I answered her, I knew it was wrong to judge her merely by the fact that she happened to be a sleep goblin. All that meant was that she could influence people through their dreams. It didn’t mean she had anything in common with the Dreamstalker, and it also didn’t mean there was anything at all sinister about her. Plus, in working for the ANC, I had to imagine she was on our side.

“And what type of creature would that be, Dulce?” Knight asked curiously, as if he were a teacher quizzing me.

“A somnogobelinus,” I answered in a constricted tone.

“Shit balls,” Trey whispered, shaking his head like he definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.

Knight frowned, glancing at Trey, then me and his expression wasn’t encouraging. He shook his head, pasting on a smile as he turned to regard Dia again. “You’ll have to excuse my partners. We’re working on a somnogobelinus case at the moment and it’s becoming a bit personal for Dulcie.”

I wanted to snort at his understatement. “A bit personal” didn’t even begin to sum it up.

Dia didn’t take her eyes off mine and smiled warmly. “Ah, the Dreamstalker case.”

I glanced up at her, surprised. I’m not sure why it hadn’t crossed my mind that Moon Regulators might have reached the same conclusion about the nature of their perpetrator but it was a surprise all the same.

“We’re working on that one ourselves,” Dia finished, tapping her manicured nails against the top of her desk.

“Are you?” I asked.

“Yes, and it just so happens that I can offer a great deal of help to you, being of the same species. I know how they act, think, talk.” She paused a moment and pulled out a nail file, polishing her nails as she continued. “Are you aware, Ms. O’Neil, how a perfectly law-abiding sleep goblin even becomes a Dreamstalker in the first place?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t say I was.

She continued buffing her nails, taking her sweet ass time to respond. “On the eve of our twentieth birthday, the somnogobelinus goes through what we refer to as Transcendence. This is basically our entry into adulthood. The somnogobelinus is, by nature, a strong creature—we are headstrong as well as soul strong and for most, this Transcendence is not a big deal. But for some, it is a big deal. For those somnogobelinae who are missing something in their genetic makeup, the Transcendence poses a huge risk—some have died and others have become mentally unstable.”

“The Dreamstalkers are those who couldn’t fully stomach the Transcendence?” Knight asked.

Dia nodded and buffed her index finger nail for three seconds. “Exactly.”

“So this new Dreamstalker could have been a sleep goblin who couldn’t handle the change?” I asked.

Dia stopped buffing and glanced at me, then she shook her head. “We would have felt it. All somnogobelinae are linked deep down in their DNA. We can sense one another, feel one another, and when one of us turns into something dark, we all know it.”

“How many of you are there?” Knight asked.

Dia shrugged. “Not many. Twenty-two across the United States.”

“And in the Netherworld?” I prodded.

“Even fewer,” Dia answered.

“So how is that possible then?” I asked. “I mean, if it looks like a Dreamstalker, sounds like a Dreamstalker.”

“It’s not a Dreamstalker,” Dia finished, looking up at me as if to further emphasize her point.

“So what is it?” I insisted.

“I don’t know,” she answered, and there was fear in the dark depths of her eyes. “What I can tell you, though, is that this particular creature, we’ll call him the Dreamstalker for lack of a better title, has really ticked me off.”

“Why’s that?” Knight demanded.

Dia dropped the nail file back into her top desk drawer and glanced up at him. There was no emotion on her face. “Bastard’s responsible for putting sweet ol’ Mrs. Mickelson into a coma.”

“So we’ve heard,” Knight finished and glanced at me, why I wasn’t sure.

Dia turned to face Trey with confusion in her eyes. “So Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome is Knight, and the fairy with the personal vendetta is Dulcie. The only words I’ve heard you say are “shit balls” and I hope that isn’t your name?”

Trey shook his head, a laugh rippling through his stomach like an earthquake. “No, ma’am,” he started.

“This is Trey, a Regulator from ANC Splendor,” Knight said, offering Trey an apologetic smile for omitting his introduction.

Dia faced Trey and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She motioned to the empty seats in the corner of the room, and Trey and I sat down.

I didn’t know what it was but there was something about Dia that made me relax and feel comfortable around her, something intangible but likeable all the same. She was maybe five foot six and her skin was the color of midnight. With her curly, short haircut, you couldn’t help but focus on her dancing eyes and laughing mouth. She was probably in her mid to late twenties if I had to guess and was one of those people who attracted others like magnets—they had this certain je ne sais quoi about them—something that appealed to others. Yep, Dia Robinson had that je ne sais quoi by the boatloads.

“So what can I help y’all with?” Dia asked like she was getting down to business.

I nodded. “Just tell us everything you know about your Dreamstalker.”

Dia picked up a pencil lying atop her desk and tapped it against her mouth. “When you said this case was personal?”

“I meant I think the Dreamstalker is targeting me personally. I’ve been somehow linked to all the victims so far with the exception of the librarian, Shirley Mickelson.”

“That you know of,” Knight added. “There could be a connection of which you aren’t aware.”

“Yeah, there could be,” I said and then faced Dia again. “Now he’s targeted my best friend and I’ve had enough. We need to crack this case and nail this guy’s ass today.”

Dia laughed—it was a high pitched and pretty sound. “I appreciate your zest, honey, but it’s not as easy as you think.”

I frowned. “I don’t care about easy. My best friend’s in a coma, and time is a luxury I can’t afford.”

She turned to a bookshelf behind her that was filled with binders. She trailed her index finger along the binding of three then, apparently finding what she was looking for, pulled out one of the binders and opened it. The room was silent as Dia continued perusing whatever was in the binder. Finally, she glanced up at me. “There are only two known Dreamstalkers …”

“Druiva and Trafu are locked up in Banshee prison,” I finished for her. “You didn’t need your binder—I could have told you that.”

Dia smiled and leaned back into her seat. “Can you tell me if there are any junior Dreamstalkers?”

I guessed she meant had either of the somnogobelinae in Banshee Prison spawned offspring. “No, neither has any children—we were pretty thorough with the investigation when Druiva was locked up the first time.”

And it wasn’t like either Dreamstalker was getting any funny business at Banshee—conjugal visits were prohibited.

“So that’s a dead end?” Dia asked. “Scary thing, then.”

“Why do you say that?” Knight asked.

“It means we’re dealing with something that’s either imitating a Dreamstalker, or there’s more to this story than meets the eye.”

“Imitating a Dreamstalker?” I started. “How would that even be possible?”

Dia shrugged. “Maybe someone is purposely misleading us. How do you know it’s a Dreamstalker we’re dealing with? How rigorously did you test your victims?”

“It can’t be an imitation,” Knight said. “We ran blood tests, brain scans, the whole she-bang. There were no narcotics in the victims’ bloodstreams that might point to this being anything other than a Dreamstalker.”

“Well, then we should continue forward with the assumption that we’re dealing with a Dreamstalker,” Dia said but she clearly wasn’t convinced.

After an impending silence, Knight leaned forward. “What can you tell us, Dia?”

She leaned back into her chair and rocked back and forth a few times. “I can tell you we’re going to need to work together on this case—four heads are better than one. And because of the fact that one of the victims was a citizen of Moon, I need to be involved.”

“We never said we didn’t want your help,” Knight answered.

“Just wanted to make it crystal clear,” Dia said in a serious tone. “Sometimes ANC people come here and ask their questions and try to take over. That won’t fly on my watch.”

“Understood,” I said. “We’ll share freely with you if you do the same with us, and hopefully we can crack this case that much faster.”

Dia faced Knight with a smile. “I like the way she thinks.”

***

It was 2:00 a.m. and I’d been awake for twenty-four hours now, hyped up on caffeine in fear of going to sleep and possibly witnessing another nightmare concocted by the Dreamstalker. Instead, I planted myself at my desk and forced myself to type the notes on the case so far.

Victims:

Anna Murphy: in my second grade class, located in Splendor

Heather Green: in my second grade class, located in Splendor

Jenny Garrity: my nanny as a child, located in Splendor

Travis Decker: my high school boyfriend, located in Estuary

Shirley Mickelson: librarian, Rio Mesa High School in Moon, is there a connection to me? (Note to self—ask Trey to find out everything there is to know about Shirley Mickelson)

My heart grew heavy as I typed the last name.

Samantha White, witch, employee of the ANC, located in Splendor

I heaved a sigh and glanced at the cursor blinking at me. There was so much going through my head—images of Sam on the hospital cot fought with images of Knight’s still body, beaten to a pulp in his bed. At least that last vision hadn’t been real, I reminded myself—it was just a decoy, a ploy. Knight was safe … at least for now. I walked my empty coffee mug back to the kitchen and refilled it, the beginnings of a caffeine headache already pounding through my temples.

I felt another sob choke my throat and had to swallow it down. Sam was my closest friend. As I’d mentioned earlier, I wasn’t a social person—I didn’t have a legion of friends. I really only had two people I considered at all close to me—Sam and Quillan, my old boss. And due to recent events, I’d had to scratch Quillan off my friend list. The pain was still there and sometimes late at night, I found myself repeatedly wondering how Quillan had become one of the bad guys. How had he deceived everyone, and why had he done it? I couldn’t help but take the betrayal personally—I’d let Quillan get close to me, and the only thing that had encouraged was disappointment and pain.

I took a sip of the coffee but never tasted it. My thoughts were wholly encompassed by the fact that every time I allowed a man to get close to me, somehow I got screwed. And Jack, my ex-boyfriend, had really done a bang up job of it—he was the poster asshole for cheaters. And then Quill … I couldn’t finish the thought. An image of Knight blossomed in my mind’s eye, and I sighed. I had to build up my defensive wall until it was impossibly high and thick, impenetrable in its dimensions. I wouldn’t allow myself to be disappointed again by a man—I couldn’t allow myself to hurt again, to succumb to that weakness.

I marched back over to my computer and glanced at the word document: my list of victims’ information. I downscreened it, needing another outlet, something else to occupy my thoughts for a moment. I opened up my Yahoo inbox and sorted through the spam e-mails. The mention of my book, A Vampire and a Gentleman, in one of the subject lines grasped my attention, and I opened the e-mail. It was from Barbara Mandley, a literary agent with Great Fiction Agency—the same agency that had recently asked to review my book.

I read through the e-mail without any emotion and couldn’t even bring myself to get excited by the fact that Barbara said she hadn’t been able to put my book down. She finished the e-mail by stating that she thought my book was “amazing” and she’d be in touch shortly. I closed out of my Yahoo inbox, pondering the fact that I hadn’t written a word since this whole Dreamstalker business had started. I definitely wasn’t going to make my self-imposed deadline of one month or less. But I couldn’t bring myself to think about it; couldn’t focus on anything but the details of the somnogobelinus case.

I pulled my notes back up on screen and started a new paragraph, trying to recall not only what I already knew about Dreamstalkers, but also what Dia Robinson had told us about the habits and characteristics of the somnogobelinus.

Dia Robinson, Somnogobelinus but not a Dreamstalker, Chief of ANC Headquarters, Moon

Is there a third Dreamstalker? If we know there were no offspring from both Dreamstalkers locked away in Banshee Prison, how are these events even possible? Could another somnogobelinus have taken a dark detour into Dreamstalker territory? Dia insists that it isn’t possible, but is it?

Dreamstalkers are:

Driven to feed off the dreams of both humans and Netherworld creatures alike. This is why both Dreamstalkers at Banshee Prison were separated from all other creatures. They were held in solitary confinement, isolated in their cells, the cell walls fortified with four inches of solid steel. Steel prohibits psychic communication and, therefore, could ensure the safety of the other inmates.

Dreamstalkers must be within one hundred feet of the creature whose dreams they are attacking. Therefore, the night the Dreamstalker targeted me with scenes of Knight being attacked, it had to have been nearby. Which means it knows where I live. And it revealed Knight’s address to me in sleep which means it also knows where Knight lives. (Dilemma—what to do? Hotel for a while?)

Dreamstalkers will return for their victims. They’re like Komodo Dragons who bite their prey and then track them as they die, returning days later to claim their feast. A Dreamstalker really isn’t that different. They strike, sending their victims into comas and days or weeks later, they return to finish the victims off.

Our plan: Sit and wait it out. Dia can sense a Dreamstalker but she has to be within one hundred feet of one. Knight, Trey and I will park ourselves next to the victims, looking for any sign of foul play. At the merest indication that something might not be right, we’ll notify Dia and she’ll scout the location, using her somnogobelinus radar to apprehend the offender.

Dreamstalkers’ victims appear to be in comas, but they are actually stuck between life and death—trying to defeat the Dreamstalker in their minds. If the Dreamstalker kills them in sleep, they die in life. Heather Green was the first to die—meaning she couldn’t defeat the Dreamstalker in her imagination. The only way to free all of the victims is to kill the Dreamstalker or get it locked up in a steel enforced cell where it can’t control the minds of its victims. (Note to self: my vote is to kill the bastard).

SIX

It had been three days that I’d been awake and I’d lost count of how many cups of coffee I’d downed. Even though I’d managed not to fall asleep, I was in a haze—events and days just blending into one lump of time that felt nebulous and indescribable. I stared out the window of my kitchen, not focusing on anything but the black of the night and the way the moonlight danced between the tree branches, rays of light breaking the homogeneity of night.

Sometime during the past three days, I’d managed to visit Sam but each visit yielded the same return—she was still in a coma, hanging onto life and the constant beeping of the monitors still played with my sanity. It had been earlier today that I’d made my customary rounds to Sam’s bedside but the constant hum of life support had acted like the droning of Morpheus, the God of Sleep. I’d nearly collapsed into slumber right on top of Sam and that was when I knew I needed to get out of there, and better still, I needed more coffee, lots more.

I’d also asked Dia to make inquiries to the other somnogobelinae with whom she was familiar, just to ensure her “Dreamstalker radar” wasn’t on the mend. After Dia agreed, albeit none too happily, she announced that her radar was in top performing condition because all her sleep goblin cohorts said they hadn’t been alerted to the creation of any new Dreamstalkers which basically left me right where I’d started.

Knight had been keeping Trey and the other ANC Splendor staff busy with in-depth research into the lives of Druiva and Trafu, the Dreamstalkers in custody at Banshee Prison. They were searching all records, looking for any clues as to relationships that could have yielded progeny. And we’d come up with gaping holes there too—Trafu had been in Netherworld custody for hundreds of years. And I’d learned a little tidbit that hadn’t been pretty—apparently when Netherworld creatures didn’t exercise their libidos, their genitalia did shrivel up and fall off. And yes, Knight had had a field day with that one—telling me if I truly valued him as a friend and partner, I’d ensure the safety of his male equipment. I’d just told him there were plenty of women who’d be up for the job.

So Trafu was basically a eunuch and had been for over one hundred years which left Druiva ... After much investigation into his roots, we did learn that Druiva had entertained many lovers during his time as a free somnogobelinus but what we hadn’t been counting on was the fact that all of those lovers had been male, obliterating any chance for Druiva juniors.

Yep, I was back to square one. I’d had three days of no sleep and nothing to show for it. The clock had been ticking and urgency had been boiling up within me until it was now overflowing into a broth of panic.

I grabbed the handle of Mr. Coffee and poured myself my nth cup, turning to refill it and start another brew. I brought the mug to my lips and had to force down the sudden overwhelming desire to throw up. My body needed sleep badly—it was as obvious as the fact that I had to force the coffee down my throat, in my feeble effort to compel my body into submission. Gagging, I swallowed four mouthfuls and walked to my desk, needing something to occupy my mind.

I opened the e-mail from Barbara Mandley of Great Fiction Agency and read it again, trying to drum up some excitement about the fact that someone actually liked my book and, from the way it sounded, maybe was going to offer me representation. But excitement had abandoned me at least two days ago. Now I was like a car coasting on empty, with only a few whiffs of gasoline to keep my engine from dying.

I opened the word document I’d saved as “Book Two Titles” and read through the list of four titles I was proposing for my second book in the Bram “Vampire and a Gentleman” series.

Speak vamp to me

A Bloodsucker named Raven

Vampires don’t leave hickies

Don’t invite a vampire in

It was like I was reading the work of someone else. I couldn’t even remember coming up with the titles. And I had to just shake my head in total bewilderment at “Vampires don’t leave hickies.” Hello? What in the hell had I been thinking with that one?

I stared at the blinking cursor and racked my mind, trying to drum up new titles but each time I attempted to get the creative juices flowing, all I could think about was more coffee and then the feelings of nausea weren’t far behind. After a few more minutes of strenuous thinking and even more strenuous gagging, I figured it was fair to admit that nothing creative was going to happen tonight … today … whatever.

The little black cursor continued to blink, as if announcing it wasn’t going to give up, that there was a creative bone in my body somewhere—that my blood hadn’t turned to coffee within my veins. I continued staring at it until it appeared to be getting larger and the blinking more pronounced, more anxious. I could feel myself moving closer to it. My elbows touched the top of the desk and before I knew it, my head was resting on my forearm. The need to close my eyes was pounding through my body—a command coming from Hades only knew where. The desire to see the velvety black of my eyelids was overwhelming, almost as strong as the constant stinging sensation that had been plaguing my eyes for the last two days … and nights. If I just closed my eyes and rested them for a second or two, I’d feel better. I’d still be in control of myself …

***

I opened my eyes and lifted my head off the desk. I’d fallen asleep—who knew for how long. I was suddenly frightened and angry with myself. I’d been incredibly lucky that the Dreamstalker hadn’t realized I was immobilized by sleep and his for the taking. Stupid, I’d been so stupid. I stood up, angst pounding through me and walked my cold cup of coffee to the sink, promptly pouring myself another. I threw my head back and emptied the lukewarm liquid into my mouth, squelching the urge to gag. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

The sudden compulsion to go check on Sam almost blindsided me and before I could even register what I was doing, I had my keys in my hand and I was headed down to the Wrangler which was parked just outside. I glanced up at the dark night sky and even though the thought crossed my mind that visitor’s hours were well over, my feet didn’t slow down.

Before I knew it, I’d unlocked the door and was seated behind the wheel, my hand already turning the keys in the ignition. I put the car into drive and started down the street. The streetlights reflected through my windows and I shielded my eyes against the glare. The momentary thought that I hadn’t buckled up crossed my mind but I couldn’t focus on it. I arrived at the stop sign at the end of the street and had no memory of getting there. All I knew was that the hospital was to the right but for some reason, I turned to the left.

I couldn’t even really grasp the fact that before setting foot into the car, I’d planned to visit Sam at the hospital yet now I was headed for the highway leading out of Splendor and into the BFE district of Charity which was home to a herd of cows and endless miles of lush farmland.

I attempted to turn the Wrangler around, even issued the command to my arms, but the wheel appeared to be stuck or maybe somewhere in my subconscious I really wanted to visit Charity because my body seemed to be in complete opposition to my mind. I continued along Highway Five toward mile after mile of white fences and rolling hills, farther and farther from the hospital.

The radio suddenly flickered on and my heartbeat increased tenfold as I wondered how in the hell that was even possible. There was static for a moment and I watched the screen as it rolled through FM station after FM station. Finally it settled on something that sounded like fifties music. I wanted to turn the sound down but my hands were plastered to the steering wheel so the music continued to pour out of the speakers. I could practically see Patsy Cline in her poodle skirt and saddle shoes as she wailed into the microphone, “I Go Out Walking After Midnight.”

My brain began to protest the fact that my body had a mind of its own and was now holding me hostage. I glanced out at the night sky, realizing it was getting darker, the street lights no longer lighting my way as I entered the border of Charity. Sure enough, dark outlines of cows on the hillsides pointed to the fact that I’d just arrived in no man’s land.

Lights from behind me suddenly filled the Wrangler and I depressed the accelerator, hoping the person would pass me. I didn’t even have the chance to marvel at the fact that my body had carried out my mind’s wishes because it was suddenly apparent that the person behind me wasn’t going to pass. Instead, the car pulled up right behind me, close—as in bumpers kissing close. The headlights of the car illuminated the inside of the Wrangler and made it exceedingly difficult to see the road before me. I yanked the wheel to the right, pulling over to the side of the road and hoped the person would get the clue that I didn’t appreciate being tailed.

The car veered to the left of the Wrangler and just when I thought it was going to pass, it pulled alongside me until we were neck and neck. I couldn’t help the feeling of panic wending its way up my throat until I felt like I was going to throw up again. I glanced over and could see nothing but darkness emanating from within the car. It was so dark, I couldn’t even tell if there was a person in it. I shook my head at the absurdity of that thought—of course there was someone in it—it couldn’t just drive itself.

The fifties music continued to pour out of my speakers and the melody acted like a fire burning away at my sanity. The car beside me suddenly lunged to a stop and pulled up behind me again, flooding my car with its headlights. I wanted nothing more than to stop but my body seemed to have taken on a mind of its own again and I’d pulled back into the street and pressed the accelerator down until I was going ten miles over the speed limit. The car behind me revved its engine and kept pace.

I watched as my foot pressed the accelerator harder and the speedometer began to climb from forty-five to fifty-five to sixty-five. I passed a white sign proclaiming the speed limit to be thirty-five and somewhere deep inside me concern blossomed—this was a country road, windy and dangerous for extreme speeds. I glanced back at the speed gauge and watched in horror as it hit seventy-five.

The car behind me pulled alongside me again and then suddenly sped up, passing me instantly. It veered into the lane ahead of me and before I could respond, the red of its brake lights suddenly interrupted my vision. The sound of the Wrangler crashing into the car shattered my thoughts, the melody of the fifties music still in the background. I suddenly felt myself flying forward and the explosion of glass was thick in my ears as I felt my chest smash into the steering wheel. Then before I could even gasp, the Wrangler was airborne.

I glanced down at my clenched palm and realized I’d shaken a mound of fairy dust somewhere along the way. I tossed it in the air, imagining a thick, insulating bubble surrounding me. The feel of rubber was thick against my cheek as I crashed through the passenger window and felt myself smash against the pavement.

***

“Girl, you really did a number on yourself.”

I tried to open my eyes. It was that damned beeping monitor again—thick in my ears. “Can someone turn that fucking thing off?” I demanded and my voice was so gravelly, I barely recognized it as my own.

“Ah, Dulcie is back.” It was Trey. There was relief in his voice.

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a ceiling with individual white squares and fluorescent lights glaring down at me. I turned my neck and saw Dia and Trey gazing over me, both smiling. My neck hurt. I turned the other way and found Knight right beside me.

“Where the hell am I?” I insisted, even though it was becoming pretty crystal clear based on the crappy ceiling and the constant beeping.

“You’re in the hospital,” Knight answered with eyes that were smiling, relieved and happy. He grinned down at me and for as crappy as I’m sure I looked, he looked beautiful. I shook my head against the injustice of it all. Knight was like temptation wrapped in a pretty red bow and dropped on my doorstep from Hades, the king of all assholes.

“You were in a car accident,” Trey said, his voice thick with tears. “But they say you’re going to be okay.”

I closed my eyes, realizing what this meant. “I let him get to me, didn’t I?” I asked, glancing at Knight again. He didn’t answer but squeezed my hand as if to say none of that mattered now, what did matter was that I survived. But while it might not have mattered to him, it mattered a hell of a lot to me. The Dreamstalker had won again. Dammit! I’d sworn to take him down but all it had taken was three days of no sleep and I’d failed. Again.

“Yep, you sure as heck did let him get to you,” Dia said and I glanced at her, surprised. “You were lucky to survive, girl.”

“If this is lucky, I’d hate to see unlucky,” I grumbled.

“Do you remember what happened, Dulce?” Knight asked, rubbing my hand in his. He sat down on the doctor’s swivel stool until he was eye level with me and smiled warmly. I sighed, trying to summon up the energy to recall what had happened.

“I just wanted to rest my eyes,” I began, recreating the visual of the moments before I’d fallen asleep. “Then next thing I knew, I was in the Wrangler and headed for Charity.” I stopped for a second, remembering my cheery yellow car always parked outside my apartment. If it was possible to love inanimate objects, I loved that car. And realizing what had happened to me, I could only imagine what had happened to it.

“My car?” I squeaked.

“May it rest in peace,” Trey said and looked like he was going to start crying again. He’d always liked the Wrangler too.

I shook my head. “Dammit.”

Knight chuckled. “We’ll get you another one, Dulce, don’t even waste your time thinking about it.” His jaw was tight. “You just focus on healing.”

I nodded, not really wanting to contemplate the fact that Knight was being so caring—he was making it harder and harder not to want him, not to allow him to get closer to me. I shook off the feelings—I had more important things to focus on at the moment. Instead, I tried to remember the events that had led to this point. “I remember seeing a car behind me.” The memory of the other vehicle with the garish headlights came crashing in on me and I felt myself wince. “The car pulled in front of me and then it just stopped. I … I must have hit it.” I paused for a minute or two, blinking back tears. I hadn’t realized I was emotionally traumatized until I’d remembered the events, replayed them in gory detail, relived the feelings of helplessness and fear all over again. I dropped my head to the side, hoping to hide my tears. “That’s all I really remember.”

Everyone was quiet for a second or two, probably drumming up their own visuals of my story.

“It was all a dream, Dulcie,” Knight started and at my expression of confusion and disbelief, continued. “They only recovered one car at the scene, yours. It appears you ran into a tree.”

I couldn’t even respond. A dream? And I’d run into a tree?

“You should have been killed, Dulcie,” Knight said. “You weren’t wearing your seat belt and the Wrangler rolled. You were thrown out of the side window and it should have killed you.”

“Like I said before, I’m hard to kill,” I said with an insincere laugh, feeling pain in every joint of my body.

“Dulcie, that’s not my point,” Knight said and leaned closer to me. “You used magic … you were able to protect yourself.”

I suddenly remembered the fairy dust in my palm, throwing it and thinking of a protective buttress against the pavement. “Yeah, I did.”

Knight glanced up at Dia and she inhaled deeply. “I knew it,” she said in a tight voice. “Magic won’t work against a Dreamstalker,” she continued. “The dream world is their turf, not ours. Dreamstalkers control the dreamer.”

“Maybe you were right, Dia,” Trey said, biting his lower lip. “Maybe it’s not a Dreamstalker.”

“I told you it wasn’t,” she said and shook her head. “If this isn’t proof enough for y’all, I don’t know what is.”

I couldn’t say I was really paying attention to their conversation. My mind hadn’t quite progressed past the point of realizing that I’d been able to use my magic while under the power of the Dreamstalker. And that was the key to defeating him—it had to be. “Knight, if we can manipulate the dream, we can defeat him.”

Knight glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “That is a dangerous thought.”

Dia scoffed. “Dangerous isn’t even the word for it. Suicidal is more like it. Didn’t you hear me when I said the dream world is their turf? If this thing even is a Dreamstalker, we’d be idiots to think of defeating it on its playground.”

Knight nodded. “She has a point.”

“So, what, we’re just going to sit here and let it claim its victims?” I insisted. “I, for one, sure as hell am not going to let that happen.”

Dia shook her head. “We stick to the plan. If it’s a Dreamstalker, I can track it and if it’s pretending to be a Dreamstalker, it will still follow the same pattern. Either way, it will be coming for its victims and when it does, we’ll be here to stop it.”

Apparently it was two against one—Trey was silent so he didn’t count. I sat up and everyone came nearer, concern drawing their faces like they thought I was about to break into acrobatics a la Cirque Du Soleil. “I need to get out of here,” I started.

“You can’t leave, Dulce,” Knight said sternly and stood up. “You haven’t been released yet.”

I shook my head. “This sucks, Knight. I have too much to do to be stuck in this damn place all day.” I glanced down at myself, taking in the white hospital robe, complete with mini pink rosebuds repeated across the white surface. Couldn’t they make hospital attire a little less grandma-like? I leaned forward but Knight pushed me back into the downy pillows.

“Take it easy, Dulce. There’s no rush,” he insisted.

“There is a rush,” I argued, suddenly remembering the fact that Sam was in this same hospital, still fighting the Dreamstalker. There was an absolute rush. Rush wasn’t even the word for it. “Is Sam okay?”

Knight nodded. “She’s fine. She’s in the next room over.” He grabbed my hands again, as if to say he’d ensure I was immobilized if need be. “You just need to relax and let yourself heal. Even though you don’t have broken bones, your muscles are bruised.”

“I don’t have time to rest,” I said, even though I could already see the writing on the wall. If the hospital wasn’t ready to release me, I’d stay. Knight would see to it. He was definitely the most annoyingly bossy person I’d ever met. If he thought I needed to stay and heal, I’d stay and heal. Dammit. “I have to get this guy.”

“Nope, not happening,” Knight said and his jaw was set with that stubborn defiance I’d only otherwise seen in myself.

I frowned and sighed, realizing I’d been bested. “So what’s wrong with me?”

Knight arched a brow, apparently surprised by the fact that I wasn’t still arguing. “Nothing, as far as they can tell.”

“So if nothing is wrong with me, why can’t I leave?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “They want to keep you here for a day or so to make sure everything is okay—they’re still running tests to ensure you didn’t suffer internal injuries.”

“Great,” I said with as much irritation as I could muster.

“You need to just sleep and heal,” Knight continued.

I glanced up at him, anger suddenly overtaking me. “Sleep?” I demanded. “Are you insane? Look what sleeping did to me!”

He ran his finger down my cheek and I attempted to push it away but the IV in my arm punished me with a smart, stinging pinch.

“You’ll have Dia here with you. She’s volunteered to stay,” he finished.

I glanced at Dia and she smiled at me like she was some great gift. “No offense to Dia but how the hell is she going to help me when I’m sound asleep and the Dreamstalker decides to take me for another joy ride?”

Dia laughed. “Girl, have you not listened to a word I’ve been saying since we met?”

I glanced at her and frowned so she continued. “I’m a sleep goblin.”

So sue me if I wasn’t following but I hadn’t slept for three days and I’d just been in a major accident. “So what?”

She shook her head like I was a slow kid. “So I can chaperone your slumber to make sure nothing interferes.”

“You can protect me in my sleep?” I asked, my tone sounding like she also had a bridge to sell me.

She nodded proudly, like she was the shit. Well, if she could protect me while I was asleep, she was more than the shit in my books. And, hell, I’d even buy any bridges she was selling.

“I told you I’d come in handy,” she said.

“So why can’t you protect my dreams all the time?” I demanded, suddenly angry again. “You mean, I could have been sleeping all this time? Why couldn’t you have saved me from totaling my car?” I didn’t mean for my voice to sound so shrill but I really couldn’t help it.

“It takes a huge amount of concentration to maintain the psychic protective walls around you,” Dia started defensively. “I can do it for maybe an hour at the most and afterwards, I’m exhausted for days. It’s not something that’s easy to do.”

I nodded, relinquishing my anger. “Sorry, my nerves are just a little bit shot.”

“No need to apologize, Dulce, I gotcha,” Dia said and winked.

The sound of splashing interrupted our conversation and I craned my neck to the right, glancing at the perpetrator—a Hyacinth Water Pixie sitting on a fist-sized rock in a glass bowl, surrounded by water and lotus blooms. Anger coursed through me—I detested pixies. “What the hell is that and why is it in my room?”

The pixie looked at me with distaste and began pouring water over her back, taking a bath and ignoring my outburst, like she was the bigger person. Ha. That was one reason I despised pixies—they were so damn patronizing. And more so, the pixie I used to work with at the ANC was constantly digging me about this and that—mainly because she’d been in love with Quillan and he and I had been … tight.

“It’s a Hyacinth Water Healer,” Trey said, his tone repeating the “duh” sentiment that must have been going through his head.

“I know what it is,” I spat out. “I don’t want it in here.”

Hyacinth Water Pixies were known for their healing powers and Netherworld creatures sent them to each other to help promote healing. They were like a better version of “get well soon” flowers. Only I hated pixies so it wasn’t doing much of anything for me, other than pissing me off.

Dia laughed and seized the fish tank, the pixie nearly falling off the rock as she grabbed the sides of the tank to stable herself. “Can’t stand these darn things, myself,” she said and headed for the hallway, her laugh trailing after her.

I faced Knight again. “Nice joke.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t my doing.”

Trey suddenly looked especially guilty and pretended extreme interest in his shoes. Realizing I was acting more than bitchy, I reached for his hand and smiled. “You’re awesome, Trey.”

He grinned from ear to ear and hopefully the pixie was forgotten. I glanced at Knight again. “Since I obviously can’t leave this bed, I need you to do me a favor.”

He leaned forward and eyed me speculatively. “I think I could be persuaded into doing you a favor.”

“Go to the library and get me every book you can on dreaming,” I started and watched his expression fall. No doubt he’d thought I was flirting with him. Sigh.

“Dulcie, I thought we were sticking with the plan?” Knight said grumpily.

“We are,” I ground out. “But since I’m going to be stuck here with nothing to do and all day and night to do it in, I need some reading material.”

“Trey, are you taking notes?” Knight asked and turned to Trey.

“Of course, I’m the grunt,” he muttered.

Knight didn’t respond and I just shook my head. “Thank you, Trey.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ms. I’m so smart, I read books.”

“Smart and beautiful,” Knight said and threw me a boyish smile.

Trey shook his head and started for the door. “You two just need to do it and get it over with.”

Knight was right behind him. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

I watched them walk into the hallway and then they were gone. Minutes after Trey and Knight left, Dia entered, minus the Hyacinth Water Pixie, thank Hades.

“You ready to get some sleep, girl?” Dia asked with a smile as she strode up to my bedside.

I nodded. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

She seemed to hesitate for a second or two, her lips clenched. “Can I offer some unsolicited advice?” Dia began and I glanced up at her in surprise.

“Shoot.”

She took another few seconds to collect her thoughts. “I used to have a cockatiel named Tweety, and I loved that bird. He was bright yellow with orange spots on his head and he used to whistle every time I came home.” She had this far away sort of expression on her face, like she was living a totally different time.

“Um, that’s a nice story, Dia, but what does that have to do with anything?” I asked, not meaning to sound so brusque.

She didn’t seem to hear me or if she did, she didn’t care but just continued her story. “This bird would sing constantly and I used to love to listen to him. I had him for thirteen years which is a really long time for a cockatiel to live, you know?”

I didn’t, but anyway …

“Then one day he passed away from a heart attack and it just broke my heart.” She glanced at me and it looked like she was waiting for me to respond but the problem was, I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, frowning.

“Even though I miss that bird now, I had thirteen years of love, Dulcie, and even though it hurts to think of him now, if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t change anything because it was better to have loved him and lost him than never to have had him at all.”

I nodded, sort of figuring where she was going with all of this. But I didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what your background is and I don’t know why you wear that shield up wherever you go,” she said and her gaze was so piercing, I felt like she was seeing through me. “But I do know you’re a good person and deserve to love someone like I loved Tweety.”

“Thanks,” I started but she held up her hand as if to say she wasn’t yet finished.

“And I also don’t know much about Mr. Vander other than the fact that he is just gorgeous on a stick but I know he cares about you—I can see it in his eyes. And you’d be making a big mistake if you didn’t take a chance with that one.”

“You definitely don’t know Knight,” I said, a myriad of reasons why he wasn’t a good idea bubbling through my mind.

“I know enough to know when you’re trying to talk yourself out of something, girl, and you just want to make sure you aren’t missing out on a Tweety.”

The truth of it was that I wasn’t sure Tennyson was right when he’d said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I’d loved and lost and I could honestly say it was better to let the assholes go and break some other dumbass’s heart than risk mine again.

Tweety be damned.

SEVEN

So I’d spent the rest of the day and night in the hospital and it had been a major bitch. At least Knight had been true to his word and rather than Trey showing up with a stack of library books, Knight had come by later in the afternoon with an iPad, complete with Nook and Kindle apps. I hadn’t wanted to accept such an expensive gift but it was necessary to learn more about the Dreamstalker so we could fight him on level ground. So I swallowed my pride and became an ereader owner.

And I’d spent my time in the hospital researching the dream state and what I’d learned was encouraging. In order to maintain control of my dreams, I’d have to enter what was termed the “lucid dream” state which meant my sleeping mind would be aware that it was, in fact, sleeping. If I could inform my body that it was dreaming, I could manipulate the dream in my favor, aka I could control my sleeping mind. And I had to imagine this control would be pivotal in defeating the Dreamstalker. The only part that was less than ideal was the fact that lucid dreaming took practice and unfortunately for me, I was SOL where practice was concerned because I wouldn’t allow myself to sleep. But I had to admit things were looking up—I had an option and options were important things to have.

While I’d been recuperating and learning all there was to know about lucid dreaming, Knight, Trey and Dia had been scouting the hospital, checking on Anna, Jenny, Sam and me while also searching for any sign of the Dreamstalker. Of course, there hadn’t been so much as a peep from our enemy.

I’d managed to sleep for an hour and a half, courtesy of Dia and even though it wasn’t much, I felt incredibly refreshed. Moreover, I wasn’t sure if I’d actually slept while the Dreamstalker had attacked me but based on the fact that I basically sleepwalked myself into an accident, I had to imagine the answer was a resounding no.

The hospital had discharged me the following morning and Knight had been there to pick me up and take me home. He’d tried incredibly hard to make a case for me living with him for the time being but I’d flatly declined, saying as long as I stayed awake, I’d be fine. Besides, I had lots of things to do—the first thing on my list being a new set of wheels. I couldn’t afford to be without a vehicle.

Even though my savings account had now become embarrassing, I shelled out six thousand dollars for a used bright red Suzuki DL 650 motorcycle with only five thousand miles on it. It probably sounds crazy that I’d buy a street bike after barely surviving the car accident with the Wrangler but what it came down to was the fact that I didn’t have much money and I had even less time. My neighbor had sold me the bike with the promise that he’d fix it if anything broke. It was a deal good enough and easy enough for me so I took it. Besides, motorcycles were faster escape-vehicles than cars … so there.

While I was happy to be out of the hospital and though I felt slightly rested thanks to Dia and finally had a mode of transportation again, I wasn’t exactly happy with what I had to do next. While I’d been immobile in the hospital bed, I’d racked my brain over and over again trying to come up with an alternative—trying to think of any option other than the one I was seriously considering. But I was fresh out of options and time was ticking by, leaking minutes and seconds. And I couldn’t afford to lose even a split second.

Anna Murphy had died. Knight had informed me on the way to my house after I’d been discharged from the hospital. And it hadn’t mattered that Dia had been scouting the perimeter of the hospital, she’d never detected the Dreamstalker. Knight said it looked as if Anna’s death might have been due to complications with her heart, and that he wasn’t sure the Dreamstalker had come for her but I wasn’t convinced.

Heather had been the first to go and now Anna was the second. I could only imagine a pattern was emerging here and Jenny Garrity, my favorite childhood nanny, would be next. After her, it would be Travis and Mrs. Mickelson and then … Sam.

Judging from the time when Heather and Anna became comatose to the point at which they died, we figured that Jenny Garrity had a matter of days to live, Travis and Mrs. Mickelson had maybe four or five days and Sam had about a week.

Sam was dying.

That was the realization that had hit me like the breath of a Kraken. I’d visited her after I’d been discharged and to say she hadn’t looked good was an understatement. Her breathing was shallow and dark circles hung from her eyes, pointing to the fact that although she appeared to be happily slumbering away, she wasn’t. She was fighting the hold of the Dreamstalker and by her appearance, I would have bet he was winning. That told me I was running out of time. I had to get this guy and I had to get him now.

The one problem interfering with my mission was the fact that I was exhausted. Granted I’d had a little over an hour of rich and glorious sleep but it wasn’t enough. I could already feel exhaustion seeping into my bones, making my response times slower, my brain power slower … me slower.

And a slow response time wouldn’t help me—not when Sam only had a week left to live. That meant I had to hunt this asshole down and kill him before he killed her. And the kicker of the whole equation was that I wasn’t going to be able to defeat a Dreamstalker if I were a sleep zombie. I had to be alert and level headed.

Luckily for me, there was a solution to my problem. Unluckily for me, that solution happened to be Gargoyle’s Mandrake potion—a narcotic that had gained extreme popularity with college kids due to the fact that it meant a human or Netherworld creature could live for weeks on end without sleeping. And the user wouldn’t suffer any of the fatigue of not sleeping—they operated as if on a high—energetic and vibrant. The appeal to the college students was pretty obvious—more partying and more time for studying. What users hadn’t counted on, though, was the fact that Gargoyle’s Mandrake was incredibly addictive and those with weak temperaments could end up addicted to it forever. I’d seen kids in homes who were going through withdrawals and it hadn’t been pretty—some of them never fully recovered. Needless-to-say, Gargoyle’s Mandrake was illegal. The ANC had seen to that over two years ago.

Yes, I’d refuted the idea as soon as it had birthed itself in my head—yes, I’d searched for every other possibility and no, I hadn’t found one. Much though I hated the very idea, what it came down to was the fact that Sam’s life was at stake. And in cases of life and death, we did things we otherwise wouldn’t, things we’d otherwise detest.

I had come to terms with the fact that I was going to inhale Gargoyle’s Mandrake as soon as I could get my hands on some. Was I afraid that I’d succumb the way others had? No. I would take it for a few days at the most and then I’d lock myself away and deal with the withdrawals, if I even experienced any. I didn’t possess an addictive personality so I wasn’t one of those people who would be in the exceptional risk category. I’d do what I had to do and then I’d be done with it. And Sam, Jenny, Travis and Shirley would all be the better for it. End of story.

Now that my mind was made up, I had to figure out where to procure the illegal narcotic. There were times in my life when I realized just how helpful it was to have a hand in the ANC and this was one of those times. As a Regulator, I’d had to run investigations into the various dealers in our district and although I’d been out of practice for a while now, I knew where to go and who to ask for more information … Bram.

As I mentioned before, Bram wasn’t quite one of the bad guys but he definitely wasn’t one of the good guys—he dwelt somewhere in the nether regions in between. But one thing he’d always been good for were useful leads … he’d scratch my back and I’d scratch his. And now I definitely had a big itch that had to be scratched—I needed Bram to tell me where I could find Quillan.

***

No Regrets was always packed. It was a night club, bar none—if you wanted to see and be seen, you went to No Regrets. And luckily for Bram, he owned it.

I pulled into the lot and found a small space just beside the front door where I left the Suzuki. I took off my helmet and wedged it beneath my arm as I started for the door, waving to Nick, the bouncer who also happened to be an ogre. He waved back and gave me the go ahead to bypass everyone else in line. It was good to have friends in high places and even better to have friends who owned those high places.

Once inside, it took my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness of the club, a periodic strobe light highlighting the patrons. The sounds of Timbaland’s “The Way I Are” pounded through my ears and I actually felt myself relaxing. I mean, who didn’t love that song?

I pushed through a throng of dancers, my fairy ability of creature detection like a Jack Russell in a room full of rats. Weres, vamps and demons partied alongside humans, which was an absolute recipe for disaster; but one thing I could say for Bram, he didn’t tolerate fights. When I’d worked the ANC, I’d never had any issues with No Regrets.

I wound my way through the crowd, searching for Bram’s tall person but not finding him, I plopped my helmet on the bar and waved to Angela. Seeing her didn’t hit me the way I thought it might. No, now that I knew Knight wasn’t truly interested in her, I actually felt sorry for her more than anything else. Of course, Angela was a strong woman so she probably knew what was up, especially if Knight had spelled it out for her as clearly as he claimed he had.

“Dulcie! What can I do for you?” she asked with a wide smile. Her hair was purple tonight and with her black bra and tight black leather miniskirt, she looked like a Goth princess.

“Hi Angela,” I started and glanced around for Bram again. “Do you know where Bram is?”

Angela nodded. “He’s in the back.” She seemed somehow nervous and eyed the growing crowd at her bar warily before turning to the back of the club again. “I’ll just go let him know you’re here.”

I got her gist.

I held up my hand dismissively and started toward the rear of No Regrets. “Don’t worry about it, Angela. If he’s with a woman, I really don’t care.”

She laughed and it was a laugh that said she appreciated the fact that I was a woman who wouldn’t be played. I hoped I could say the same for her.

“He’ll care though,” she said and stepped around the bar, offering me a knowing smile. “You know how he is where you’re concerned.”

I just shook my head and allowed her to warn Bram that I was about to interrupt whatever the hell he’d been doing. I leaned against the bar and felt myself swaying to Kesha’s “Tik Tok.” Well, one thing I could say for Bram was he had awesome taste in music.

“Holy shit.”

I glanced up at a were who was regarding me with hunger in his eyes. He was maybe six feet tall and thick across the chest and thighs, like most weres were. His hair was long and on the scruffy side and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was okay looking, I guessed, but definitely not my type … a little too unkempt.

“Where the hell have you been all my life?” he demanded, eating me up with his eyes from head to toe.

I didn’t bother responding, since I wanted nothing to do with the dumbass. Guys like him were the ones that gave men a bad name—just jerks who thought they could walk up to any woman and she’d drop her panties without so much as a hello.

I glanced behind me, wondering what the hell was taking Bram so long. There wasn’t any motion in the hallway so I turned back around to find the were had been joined by his buddy, another were.

“Look what I found,” Were One said to Were Two and pointed at me like he’d just located his missing backpack.

Were One took a step closer to me and I gave him an icy stare, daring him to come any closer. “Back off,” I hissed.

“She’s got attitude,” Were Two said in disgust but Were One smiled, apparently taking my less than thrilled greeting as a challenge. He took another step closer to me.

“I like to train ’em,” he said and snickered at me. “Teach her who’s boss.” He reached out and grazed the side of my face with his finger. There was dirt underneath his fingernail.

I was fast—faster than I thought I would have been considering I was operating on an hour and half of sleep. Before the bastard could say “uncle,” I had his arm behind his back … painfully.

“You ask me before you touch me, got it?” I seethed.

Were Two started laughing while Were One whined for me to release him. He was all bark and no bite.

“You boys causing problems?” Angela asked from behind me. “You chose the wrong chick to mess with, I’ll tell you that much.”

I released Were One and he backed away as if I’d turned into a ghoul and tried to bite him. Were Two was still laughing and harassed his friend as they strode back into the crowd of dancers. I watched them disappear into the throbbing multitude before turning to Angela with a sigh.

“It’s early and I’m already off to a bad start,” I said, shaking my head.

“They deserved it and then some,” Angela laughed. “Bastards.” She glanced out into the crowd, as if searching for a sign of them but they’d been swallowed by the sea of people.

She faced me again. “Bram is ready for you.”

“Thanks,” I said and grabbed my helmet, starting for the short corridor that led to Bram’s office.

The door was closed even though Bram knew I was coming. He was such a sucker for pretense. I knocked on the door and there was no answer so I knocked again, irritated that I had to play his game.

“Enter.”

His voice came from the other side of the door and with a shake of my head, I opened the door and took a few steps into the plush carpet of his office. There was even less light in Bram’s office and I had to make out the outline of the door behind me in order to close it. Inside, the music was muted and the smell of burning incense was thick in the air. I dropped my helmet into a nearby chair, my eyes still growing accustomed to the low light.

“Hi, Bram,” I said, once I noticed him sitting behind a desk, outlined by the glow of a candle just behind him. The desk was a new addition to his office but the black lacquer fit perfectly against the red, white and black motif of his office.

He glanced up as if he hadn’t expected me, as if he’d been poring over the papers in his hand, without any clue that he had a visitor. His fangs immediately descended as soon as he glanced at me, the papers falling from his hand, scattering across his desk.

“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.

He shook his head in what appeared to be bewilderment and stood up. He took the five steps separating us and stretched a long, slender finger toward me, running it down the leather of my bike jacket, just above my left breast. I was reminded of what had happened the last time a man had touched me without asking permission but figured Bram wouldn’t take it well if I attacked him … or maybe he would. Either way, I wasn’t going to try it, not while I needed a favor.

He opened his mouth and inhaled, like a cat smelling the air. When his eyes found mine again, there was something in their depths—something I couldn’t put my finger on. Ever since Bram had turned three hundred, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from him, it was as if his power had increased twofold, and his aura emanated it. And it wasn’t something I liked. An unpredictable vampire was not an easily managed vampire.

“You exist merely to plague me.” His voice was rough, like diamonds cutting glass.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded. I didn’t have the time or the energy for this crap. I had to get in and get out—find out where Quillan was and move on. The night might have been young but Sam’s battle wasn’t.

“You … your outfit,” he started, giving me the once over again. “You try my will power not to take you right where you stand.”

I glanced down at myself, taking in the black leather riding pants and boots I’d magicked for myself. I was wearing a tight black turtleneck underneath the black leather jacket. My outfit was utilitarian—meant to protect from road rash, should I take a fall off the bike. Granted my pants were snug but Bram’s reaction was a bit much.

“Keep your distance, Bram,” I muttered and seated myself in one of his chairs. My hair had caught in the neck of my jacket so I pulled it free and allowed it to cascade around me in a flow of gold. Hmm, I was having a good hair night—maybe that was why Bram’s panties were all in a bunch.

Bram leaned over me, resting his hands on either chair arm, still staring at me as if I were a walking, talking vat of blood.

“The beauty of you, Dulcie Sweet, is that you have no notion, no knowledge of what you do to me. If you were any other woman, I would have had you by now … repeatedly.”

“Humble much?” I asked with a frown. I wanted to take my jacket off because it was hot in Bram’s club, but after that little display, I doubted if it would be a wise decision.

He laughed and as if to continue his completely bizarre actions, dropped to one knee before me, wedging himself between my legs. I immediately sat up straight, on complete alert, and reached into my waistband, fingering the Op 6 … just in case. I watched Bram grasp my wrist and I was suddenly aware of how much larger he was than I was. My small wrist was nearly swallowed by his hand. He pushed the leather sleeve up, bringing my wrist to his face.

“If you bite me, I’ll kill you,” I whispered and I meant it. I’d never been bitten by a vampire and I’d sworn I never would be. Playing dinner entree was not my idea of a good time.

“I want to bite you, Sweet.” His voice was low and his fangs tickled the sensitive skin of my wrist as he ran them back and forth.

As if death was of no consequence to him, he closed his eyes and inhaled just above the area where my veins were closest to the surface. I closed my fingers over the Op 6, wondering if I’d need to pull it free. I really didn’t want to shoot Bram …

He opened his eyes and focused them on me. “One day, my Sweet, you will beg me to bite you. And I will bite you and swallow your blood as I push into you and listen to you cry out in pleasure.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Okay, Barbara Cartland, can we stop the sex talk and, instead, talk about why I’m here, please?”

He dropped my wrist but didn’t move out from between my thighs and I’m not sure why, but I allowed him to stay there. Maybe because I knew I was asking for information I shouldn’t have been.

“Please enlighten me,” he said although his tone was anything but interested.

I sighed, long and hard. It brought his attention to my face and when he realized I was less than thrilled with what was about to come out of my mouth, he was rapt, his attention mine.

“I need to know where I can find Quillan,” I said in a small voice.

Bram narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a long time. I stared back. He leaned into me until we were nose to nose.

“Are you asking this as a Regulator?”

I was asking for my own personal reasons, because I had to get my hands on some Gargoyle’s Mandrake. But Bram didn’t need to know that. I swallowed. “No.”

He licked his top lip and smiled. I swallowed harder. “It would not look good for me to be offering location tips about those involved in street potions to a Regulator.”

I leaned closer to him and turned my head as I whispered in his ear. “I’m no longer a Regulator and I would never do anything to damage our … relationship. You can trust me, Bram.”

His hands found my upper thighs and he squeezed them suggestively. “Can I trust you, Sweet?”

“You once said my word was good,” I started and grabbed his hands before he got any other ideas.

He pulled away and stood up, a deep chuckle echoing through him. When he faced me again, his eyes were wild. “It does bother me, Dulcie.”

“What does?”

“The fact that I covet you so. You pose a challenge, yes, but on the flip side, this constant hungering for you takes its toll. Sometimes I do wonder if it would be better if you did not exist.”

“Are you threatening me?” I demanded, wondering if Bram was going to join my throng of enemies. I sincerely hoped he wouldn’t. Granted, I liked the fact that he was a bridge to the less than noble members of Splendor but beyond that, I actually did like Bram. He was … amusing.

He laughed again. “Me? No.” He shook his head. “I would never harm you but your death by another’s hand, hmm … I do not know what I should think of it. Perhaps it would be a bit of a relief.”

I stood up and frowned, figuring this errand had been a waste of time. It appeared Bram wasn’t in a forthcoming mood. I had to wonder if I’d interrupted his dinner. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He walked to his desk and sat down, as if needing to put a buffer between us. I started for the door and just as I grasped the doorknob, his voice stopped me.

“Why do you seek Quillan?”

I didn’t turn around right away. “I need to ask him a question,” I said finally.

He nodded and rocked back and forth. “I imagine it was quite a blow to learn your partner was deceiving you all these years?”

I didn’t release the doorknob but turned to regard him, ignoring the pain that coursed through me at the mention of Quillan’s deceit. “Yes, it was.”

“Some people thought perhaps you were in on the operation all along.” He didn’t stop rocking.

I dropped my hold on the doorknob and faced him fully. “And what do you think, Bram? Do you think I was in on it?”

He shrugged. “I do not care.”

“Then why bring it up?”

He stopped rocking and stood up, taking a few steps closer to me. “You were going to leave and I wanted to prohibit you.”

I shook my head. “Bram, I really don’t have time to play games with you. People’s lives depend on you giving me the information I need.”

“I thought you said this was not involving the ANC?”

I gulped. “It’s not.”

He materialized directly in front of me, so close I could feel the cold steel of his belt buckle against my stomach. I couldn’t help my gasp. I took a step back until the door preempted me from further escape. My heartbeat was pounding. “I hate it when you do that,” I whispered.

He grabbed my jacket and slid it off my shoulders.

“What are you doing?” I insisted, growing more and more unnerved.

He smiled down at me and it was the smile of a shark. “There is too much heat radiating off you, Sweet. You must be suffocating under all that leather.”

I had been. Between the anxiety pounding through me and the temperature in Bram’s office, the heat had been squelching. He pulled the jacket off me and carefully laid it on the chair. I glanced down at myself and realized the material of my turtleneck was slightly see-through. I could see the outline of my black bra. I glanced up at Bram and found his gaze fastened on my breasts.

“I’m up here,” I snorted.

He didn’t look up from my breasts. “I do appreciate a woman with an ample bust line.”

“Are you going to help me or aren’t you?”

“Help can come in many forms, Sweet,” he said, finally returning his eyes to mine.

“Tell me where I can find Quillan.”

“Why must you speak with Quillan, Sweet?”

“It’s personal.”

Bram regarded me curiously. “Tell me, Dulcie, has Quillan ever sampled your body? Does he know what your face looks like when in complete bliss?”

I pushed away from him. I’d been hanging on his every word, hoping he was going to help me, hoping this little act would be short lived. Apparently I’d been stupid. “Holy Hades, Bram, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you need to feed or what?”

“Answer the question,” he ordered. “Does Quillan know what it means to taste you?”

I counted to three in my head. No, I didn’t have time to play cat and mouse games but it was easier to attract flies with honey than vinegar and in this case, it was easier to get Bram to give me the information I wanted if I played his sex games.

“No, he doesn’t.”

Bram grinned, his fangs cresting his lower lip. “But you were attracted to him, no?”

I gulped down an acid response. “Yes.”

“And have you imagined what it would feel like to take him into your body?”

I forced myself to hold his gaze, and not to look away. “Yes.”

He chuckled without mirth. “I do enjoy playing with you, Dulcie. Your one flaw is your inability to tell anything other than the truth.”

“Those are your words, not mine.”

“Tell me, have you imagined what my lips would feel like against your skin? Have you imagined making love to me, Dulcie?”

It was my turn to laugh. “Game’s up, Bram. You’ve exhausted your interrogation for the night. Now it’s my turn.”

He sighed and backed away from me, returning to his desk. “I have heard your Quillan has been spending time with a … rough crowd. I would not advise you to seek him out alone.”

“So, what, you’d be willing to go with me?”

He was quiet for a moment before nodding. “I would.”

“Thanks but you’d spoil my cover.”

“It is too dangerous for you to go alone,” Bram said, his former playfulness now absent from his voice.

“Weren’t you just saying you wanted me dead?”

He shook his head. “You always turn my words against me, Sweet.”

“Where can I find Quillan, Bram?” I demanded.

“Sanctity. The Devil’s Harlot.”

“What the hell is that?”

Bram smiled and revealed the fact that his canines were still in full effect. “A strip club, Sweet.”

I shook my head. “Figures.”

“You will be taking your life into your hands,” Bram continued. “There are wards reinforcing the building. You will not be able to use magic to change your appearance and I daresay most there would recognize you as an ANC Regulator.”

I nodded; I’d figured such would be the case. I picked up my long blond locks and sighed as I thought of dying them. “Guess I’ll have to change my appearance the old-fashioned way then.”

“I would still escort you. Perhaps my being there would attract attention away from you.”

“If anything, you’d attract more attention. I can do this alone.” I paused for a second or two as I thought of riding the Suzuki clad only in some slutty getup. “But I could use a lift.”

Bram threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Of course you could, Sweet, of course.”

“Is that a yes?” I asked, feeling exhaustion in the very depths of my soul.

“Yes, I will gladly drive you.” He eyed me for a few seconds, a smile still gracing his handsome face. “When we arrive, do not enter through the front door. If you walk around to the back of the establishment, you will see a small door off to the side. Knock twice and when the bouncer opens it, tell him you are there as a gift for Quillan. Tell him I sent you.”

I eyed him for a second or two while I tried to make sense of the statement. “So I’m going as a whore then?”

Bram smiled and his eyes twinkled. “When you play with the big boys, you must play big boy games, Dulcie Sweet.”

“Wonderful,” I grumbled. “Anything else?”

“It is the only way you will make it into the club. And do be careful not to blow your cover; I do not want this to come back and bite me in the ass.”

“I’ll do my best.” I turned the doorknob and opened the door before glancing back at him. “Can you pick me up in about two hours?”

He steepled his fingers and regarded me with amusement. “I will be there with bells on.”

Then I walked out and closed the door behind me.

EIGHT

After leaving Bram’s, I visited the local drug store and purchased several boxes of hair dye and the wildest makeup I could get my hands on. It had been painful but I dyed my naturally honey golden hair licorice black. I dyed it three times before the color actually took and didn’t look purple. I also cut off four inches and curled it into tight sausage curls until I looked like a dark-haired version of Sideshow Bob.

As to my makeup … sigh. I definitely looked like a skank with my bright red lips, caked on liquid foundation and lively pink blush. I loaded my eyes with glitter, black eyeliner, silver eye shadow and more glitter. Then, just for the hell of it, I gave myself a mole above my lip with my brown eyeliner pencil. I glanced at the mirror and didn’t know what to think. I was definitely not me but was it enough to throw everyone else off? My springy hair pretty much obscured my face so hopefully that would be enough.

I raided my closet until I located the shortest skirt I owned but it wasn’t short enough so I attacked it with scissors until it just kissed my upper thighs. Remembering Angela’s getup from No Regrets, I decided to stick with a black bra. Unfortunately, there was no room for my Op 6 but knowing the scumbags I’d soon be interacting with, they’d search me anyway. And finding a weapon would definitely blow my cover.

A knock on the door heralded Bram’s arrival and Blue’s barking eclipsed the otherwise quiet evening.

“Shhh, Blue, be quiet!” I yelled as I pushed my feet into my knee-high black boots and gave myself another once over before I headed for the door. I grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled open the door, excited to see Bram’s reaction to the new me.

He didn’t say anything but stared at me for a few seconds. And during those few seconds, Blue growled and barked at him as if daring Bram to enter his house.

“Well?” I demanded, wondering if his silence was good or bad.

Bram brought his hand to his mouth and tapped his fingers against his plump lips while he continued to ponder me as if I defied earthly laws. “You are you but you are not you,” he said finally.

“Astute,” I retorted, suddenly realizing I was quoting Knight. Speaking of the devil, I had to make this little errand quick because I was due at the hospital in a few hours to play victim-sitter to Jenny and Sam.

“I do not know what to make of your appearance, Sweet.” Bram reached out and grasped a tendril of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers and Blue lunged for him, nearly yanking my arms out of their sockets. I finally settled the dog down and brought my attention back to Bram who regarded the dog dismissively before returning his attention to me. “I do miss your golden locks.”

“Who cares about my hair, Bram?” I started. “Is my getup good enough?” I suddenly felt like a sheep with a cheap lion costume who was about to enter the lion’s den. “Would you know I was me?”

Bram stepped inside and I closed the door behind him, struggling to drag Blue to the backyard, where I forced him to stay. When I returned, Bram grabbed my arm, and rotated me like a ballerina. “Perhaps I am the wrong person to ask since I have every line of your face, every angle of your body permanently etched in my memory.”

I shook my head. Bram was getting good but I wasn’t that impressed. I’d bet if I closed my eyes and asked him what color they were, he wouldn’t have a clue. “What are you, a poet now?” I asked facetiously.

“I do not know that your disguise is strong enough, Dulcie,” he said warily, apparently ignoring my slight. “And if it is not, I will be sending you to your death.”

“Which would be a relief to you,” I finished for him with a smile and pushed him toward the front door. He cleared his throat, apparently not appreciating being pushed around and stepped onto the concrete path outside. I pulled the door closed behind me and started for his black Porsche Carrera.

“I should never have mentioned those words to you, Sweet. I do take them back,” he said and opened the passenger door for me. I seated myself, noticing my skirt was doing a very poor job of covering my thighs fully so I parked my hands in my lap.

“You can’t take them back,” I said and watched him walk to the drivers’ side. Bram was a big guy and the Porsche seemed entirely too small for him.

He slipped into his seat, closed the door and turned the car on; the Carrera literally purred. I’d never been in a Porsche before and was lapping it up. I didn’t consider myself a car person (other than my love for the Wrangler) but I couldn’t help but respect the beautiful machine I was sitting in.

“Nice wheels,” I said appreciatively, glancing around the plush, black leather interior and shiny dashboard.

“Thank you, Sweet.”

It took us thirty minutes to reach Sanctity and Bram was surprisingly and uncharacteristically quiet the entire way. When we pulled into a shabby looking parking lot, complete with weeds sprouting up through the broken concrete, he guided the Carrera into a spot as far as was possible from the decrepit building standing in the middle of the lot. He turned the car off and faced me.

“Do you recall what I told you?” he asked.

I nodded, feeling like a little girl on her first day of school. Course, in my case, this was stripper school. “Yeah, go to the back entrance and tell Bubba the Bouncer that I’m a gift for Quill from you.” Bram laughed at “Bubba the Bouncer.”

“Anything else?” I finished.

He eyed me as if still trying to decide whether I could pull off my stunt and dupe a room full of thugs who would probably kill me if they knew who I truly was.

“I will give you thirty minutes. If you are not out before then, I will come in for you.”

“Bram, do you really think you could take on a room full of Netherworld creatures?”

He was strong but not that strong.

“My three hundred years have increased my stamina and strength, Sweet. Do not argue with me. Thirty minutes.”

I reached for the door handle, suddenly remembering my house keys in my lap. I handed them to Bram. “Keep these in a safe place, will you?”

He nodded and I could feel his eyes on me as I closed the car door and approached the back end of the building. Nerves short-circuited through me, making my heart pound so fast I was afraid it might stop. I took a deep, steadying breath and told myself I’d be fine, that I’d get through this and in thirty minutes, Bram and I would be en route to my apartment, easy peasy.

If I’d thought the parking lot looked like it had seen better days, the building was in even worse repair. It was a one-story hovel of a place that looked as if one good breath of wind would knock it to Kingdom Come. The click of my heels against the pavement was the only sound in the dark night and I forced myself to the rear of the shack, searching for the door.

I found it hidden behind an overgrown bush and pushed the branches aside, knocking twice. There was no answer. Thinking maybe I should knock again, I held my hand up at the same moment as the door opened a fraction of an inch and I could just make out the crooked nose and yellow teeth of the man I presumed to be the bouncer.

“I’m here as a gift for Quillan, from Bram,” I said, my voice two octaves higher than it normally was. And it wasn’t from nerves—I’d planned that one. “Is Quillan here?”

“Gift from Bram, you said?” the man repeated and I could feel his gaze as it followed my body from chest to toe. “Gimme a minute.”

He should have asked for five minutes because that’s how long his absence felt. Finally he returned and opened the door. He was a huge guy—over six feet two and … as wide as he was tall. He was maybe in his late thirties and had the look of someone who had worked the boat docks for too long. I didn’t recognize him which was a good thing. I stepped inside and gasped when he pushed me against the wall.

“Gotta check ya for weapons,” he grunted and the smile on his face said he’d enjoy it.

I clenched my teeth but didn’t say anything, just held my hands up as he copped a feel left and right. After he patted me down once, his hands returned to my bust and I pushed him away. “No weapons there, asshole,” I whispered, hoping he’d think I was just a call girl with attitude.

He snickered. “I gotta tell Bram ta send me a gift. He picks the good ones.”

I arched a brow to show I wasn’t pleased and waited for him to lead me to Quillan. He looked me up and down again and then started down the dank hallway. I followed him, the smell of mildew thick in my nose. There was a door at the end of the hallway and he pulled out a set of keys. As soon as he unlocked and opened the door, the raucous sound of laughter and Finger Eleven’s “Paralyzer” was thick in my ears. The acrid scent of cigarette smoke billowed into the hallway like nicotine ghosts and was enough to gag me. Bubba ushered me into the room and I felt my heart drop at the sound of the key in the doorknob behind me, locking us in.

I glanced up and noticed four girls on an impromptu dance floor, each one gyrating around a pole connecting the floor to the ceiling. They were humans and only had on shoes. I tried to remember not to appear prudish and pumped my hair, trying to appear like any other call girl concerned with her appearance. The truth of the matter was that I wanted to hide my face as best I could—there were men, (well, vamps and demons mostly) in the room, sitting in booths in the far corners. Luckily for me, it was dark enough that they couldn’t see me and I couldn’t see them. That suited me just fine.

“Follow me,” Bubba grunted and I was quick behind him. He led me through the strippers and I could feel the hungry eyes of the males in the room—I was fresh meat and to some of them, that was probably exactly what I was—a new tasty morsel.

Bubba stopped before another door and knocked. The door opened and he and whoever was on the other side had an exchange I couldn’t make out. Not that it really mattered—I imagined Bubba was explaining that I was the gift Quillan was waiting for. Quillan … just the idea that I was going to see him again was settling in my stomach like a hive full of bees. I was excited, yes and I’d missed him so much, but at the same time, he was leading a life now that was so foreign. The fact that he was even in a dump like this was an eye opener. He didn’t belong here—he wasn’t this caliber of person.

The doorman stepped aside and allowed us both entrance. Inside, the room was nicer than the stripper room. There were a few weres playing cards and others sat around the perimeter of the room with women on their laps. I glanced around for Quillan but couldn’t find him. I did, however, recognize many faces and dropped my own, worried they might recognize me.

“He’s up here,” Bubba announced and started up a ramp into a section of the room that sat higher than the rest of it. It was completely dark aside from the glow of a few candles. A large round table dominated the area and there were four people seated around it. From the looks of it, they were playing poker ... I glanced at a bra looped over one of the chairs … hmm, Strip Poker.

“For you,” Bubba announced and gave me a firm shove forward.

I glanced down at the figure of a man seated at the table. He leaned against his elbow languidly and looked up at us indifferently.

Quillan.

“All of you out,” Quillan said and everyone around the table scattered. Bubba was quick behind them.

Quillan glanced at me and smiled warmly. “So why would Bram send me a gift when I have no relationship with him?”

I couldn’t respond right away. I was still in shock to find Quillan hanging out in this craphole, surrounded by naked women. I wasn’t sure if it was jealousy that was reverberating through me but whatever the feeling, I didn’t like it.

“Don’t you speak?” he demanded and reminded me of the fact that he’d said his first statement a little too loudly. A new feeling of angst pounded through me. The last thing I needed was a roomful of thugs wondering who the hell I was.

I approached his chair and dropped to my knees, hoping he’d recognize me, hoping I wouldn’t have to say anything. He continued staring at me like I was dumb. Dammit, he wasn’t getting it. I pulled my hair back and put my face right up into his, pretending like I was going to kiss him. He didn’t pull away, so I turned my face until my mouth was right beside his ear, my breasts up close and personal with his face.

“It’s me, Dulcie,” I whispered.

He grabbed my arms and pushed me away from him, as if he thought I was lying and wanted to get a better look. When he did, realization dawned in his eyes. “Ah, Bram sent me a good one,” he said, apparently now on to my ruse. “I wonder if you taste as good as you look?”

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, demanding and hungry. I closed my eyes, I couldn’t help it. I’d imagined kissing Quillan so many times and once a long time ago, we actually had. Now the feel of his lips brought that memory pouring back into me—how much I once cared about Quillan, how he’d been one of my closest friends, how he’d betrayed me …

I pulled away and he stood up, grabbing my hand. He started down the ramp and drew me close behind him. We reached the entryway again and Quillan yanked aside a curtain to his left that had been obscuring another door. He glanced at the doorman and the doorman unlocked it.

“I don’t want to be disturbed,” Quillan warned him. I had to wonder how high Quillan ranked in the underground hierarchy. Based on the way people treated him here, it seemed pretty high.

The doorman glanced at me and nodded, saying nothing. Quillan turned to face me and held the door wide. “After you.”

I entered the room and was suddenly aware of the fact that Quillan truly was one of the bad guys. If I hadn’t thought it before, I definitely thought it now. He was up to his neck in a lifestyle that was so alien from mine, and so completely foreign from what his used to be. Maybe I wasn’t welcome here—maybe he’d turn me over to the dogs of this establishment and was just biding his time? Maybe it had been incredibly stupid of me to come, trusting that he still cared for me.

“Dulcie, what the hell were you thinking coming here?” he demanded once he’d locked the door behind him. He flipped on the light which bathed him and the room in an eerie red. It was the first chance I’d had to really get a good look at him. He seemed somehow broader, stronger. His face was the same old Quillan I knew so well—clean shaven, angular and universally handsome.

I glanced around, wondering if it was safe to talk, wondering if people on the other side of the door could hear us. Would they even be listening? I felt unbelievably uncomfortable but based on the fact that Quillan was acting as if everything was okay, I calmed down.

“I didn’t have anyone else to come to,” I started. “I’m in trouble.”

He was beside me momentarily, engulfing me in his big arms. His scent was thick in my nostrils—Tommy Bahama aftershave I’d missed so much. I rested my head against his chest and wrapped my arms around him, I couldn’t help it.

“What’s wrong?” he insisted and I was suddenly overcome by the fact that I wasn’t angry with him anymore. The last time I’d seen him, when I’d attempted to apprehend him, I’d been hurt and furiously angry. I’d had to talk myself out of shooting him. And now? Now I only felt empty.

“There’s too much to tell you now, Quill.”

He smiled at the old nickname and pulled away from me, glancing down at me. “I thought maybe you’d come to take me into custody.” But by the sound of his voice, I knew he was kidding.

“No, I’m here to break the law,” I said and shook my head at the absurdity of the whole thing. “I can’t talk long, Bram is waiting for me in the parking lot and he said if I didn’t come out in thirty minutes, he’d come in. If I had to guess, I probably have twenty minutes left.”

“How can I help you, Dulce?” he whispered before running his hand through my hair. “What did you do to yourself?”

“I could hardly come waltzing in here without some sort of getup, could I?”

He laughed. “No, hardly.” He was quiet again as he pushed a lock of hair behind my ear as tenderly as a lover. “You look just as beautiful as I remember,” he said and the tone of his voice matched the same sense of sorrow that was coursing through me. He knew as well as I did that things would never be the same between us. Maybe in another life, another time, we could have been something great together. But not now.

“I’ve missed you,” he continued.

I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I’d missed him too. There was just so far my hurt ego would reach. And I wouldn’t let it go there. I stepped away from him and focused on the reason I was here. “There’s a Dreamstalker after me, Quill, and it nearly took me down a few nights ago. I’m lucky to be alive.”

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest and in the red light coming from the corner of the room, I could see shock and anger in his gaze. He looked like he was going to say something but I beat him to it.

“I need Gargoyle’s Mandrake and I need enough to last me the rest of this week.” I was quiet after the words left my mouth, allowing them to sink in. He said nothing and the silence of the room was deafening. “Can you get it for me?”

“Yes, easily,” he said but his voice was troubled.

I dropped my gaze from his, feeling suddenly guilty that I was asking for an illegal narcotic—me, a previous Regulator. I couldn’t even allow myself to consider what Knight would think. Instead, I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and tried to make small talk. “It seems like you’re pretty high up on the totem pole?” I asked. “How are you even hanging out with these guys, Quill? This isn’t you.”

He faced me angrily. “Yes, I’m at the top of the totem pole but I hope you didn’t come to lecture me.”

I approached him and grabbed his hand. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just … just hate seeing you like this. You don’t belong here.”

He pulled his hand away and ran it through his wavy blond hair. “This is my life now, Dulce. You can’t save me. This is who I am and I’m okay with it.”

I sighed, hating the words even as he said them. But this wasn’t my fight—he was what he was and someday we’d butt heads in a major way—of that I was sure. But that day wasn’t now. Now I needed his help. Maybe someday he’d come to me and I could offer the same.

“So you can get it for me?” I demanded.

He didn’t say anything right away and I wondered if this trip had been a huge waste of my time. After another few seconds, he nodded and a huge sigh of relief traveled through me.

“You know how addictive it is?”

“I don’t care,” I answered, dropping my attention to the stained carpet beneath my feet. “I’ve racked my mind, Quill, I’ve tried to find any other solution but I can’t. It’s come down to life and death. I can’t fall asleep or the Dreamstalker will kill me.” I paused for a moment, not sure how to tell him there was more and that it was terrible. “Quill, Sam’s in a coma.”

He brought his gaze from his shoes to my face and there was worry and pain in his eyes. “How long?”

“She has maybe a week left,” I didn’t even recognize my voice—it was so full of pain. If Sam died … no, I would not allow myself to consider the thought. Quill shook his head but I didn’t let him comment. “I want to know all the details of the time you apprehended Druiva. I need to know what I’m up against. And I need the Mandrake.”

“It’s not the same case.”

“Well, obviously. Druiva is locked up,” I started, but he interrupted me.

“There’s a new form of criminal out there, Dulce.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, deep and hard. “There’s blood being sold on the black market. Blood taken from Netherworld creatures and sold to other creatures so they can become that much stronger.”

I felt my heart actually stop. My mouth dropped open and I thought I might throw up. This was bad, very bad. But suddenly it all made sense—the fact that Dia hadn’t been able to feel the dark power of a somnogobelinus going through the Transcendence, the fact that my magic had worked the night of the accident. The scary part was now I had no clue what I was up against. What I was sure of, though, was the fact that whatever it was, it wasn’t a true Dreamstalker, it was just ingesting the blood of one.

Then something ugly dawned on me and I brought my gaze to his. “Are you dealing this blood, Quill? Is that how you know about it?”

“No, of course not,” he answered like I should never have asked. “I know about it because I’ve seen it—I’ve seen creatures here who demonstrated powers they never should have. I kept my ears and eyes open—I have to in my position.”

I nodded, but my heart was low in my chest as I realized how deeply imbued he was in this lifestyle. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“Dulcie, please be careful,” he said and his compassion was enough to paralyze me. It was the same comment he’d made so many times when we’d worked side by side at the ANC.

“Please don’t say that,” I said, pulling my hand away as I felt my voice crack. “This is hard enough as it is.”

If I was worried he hadn’t gotten my gist, by the slight nod and small smile on his face, I realized he understood it and not only that, was thinking and feeling the same things I was.

“Is it true you’re off the force?” he asked, apparently supposing a new change of subject was in order. He walked to the far end of the room and leaned down, opening a cupboard door. By the way he was turning his hand, I had to imagine he was unlocking a safe.

I took a second to answer. “Yeah, I retired.”

He glanced back and me and frowned. “You were the best Regulator the ANC had, why would you do that?”

I wasn’t sure how he’d take the truth. But it wasn’t like I was about to lie to him. “I failed, Quill. I should have taken you into custody that night but I didn’t. I allowed my personal feelings to get in the way and I failed in my responsibility. I’m not the Regulator you thought I was … or I thought I was.”

He stood up, gripping a small vial in one fist and a plastic bag in another. He was visibly angry. “That’s a load of bullshit. You were the best and you still are the best.”

I shook my head but he didn’t allow me to speak. Instead, he approached me and grabbed my hand, pushing the vial into my palm.

“And as to your personal feelings for me, I appreciate you allowing them to get in the way.”

Then before I could even realize what he was doing, his lips were on mine again, rough and demanding. The one kiss Quill and I had shared way back when had been sweet and this one was nothing like that, it was hot and hard, almost angry. It was a side of Quillan I’d never seen before. I closed my eyes and reveled in the taste of him, the feel of him but realizing where we were and what had happened, I pulled away. There was a gap between us that would never be resolved. I was fire and he was water.

“This can’t happen between us,” I whispered and took a few steps away. “I would hate myself.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” He handed me the plastic bag and his body language was all business, as if he’d shelved the emotional stuff and moved on.

“Quill,” I started and wasn’t really sure what to say.

He shook his head and it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it. He pointed to the plastic bag. “Those will cancel the effects of the Mandrake and they’ll make your withdrawals that much easier to combat.” He paused a second or two. “I’ve given you enough Mandrake to last all week but if you stay on it that long, there’s no telling how hard it will be to come down. I really should have given you only a three day supply.”

“Quill, I’m a big girl, I think I know how to say no.”

He nodded but it was unconvincing. “Don’t ever let it out that I gave you those and don’t let anyone know you came here. It’s bad enough Bram knows.” He was quiet for a minute and then faced me with pain in his expression. “Are you and Bram …?”

“No,” I interrupted. “I needed a ride. My car was totaled.” I didn’t have the heart to add that I hadn’t wanted to drive my motorcycle dressed like a tart.

He seemed to be relieved, not that it mattered since he and I would never be anything, could never be anything.

“Can you give me any pointers on how to nab this guy, Quill?” I asked, realizing time was of the essence and I’d have to make my getaway soon.

Quill seemed lost in thought. “It’s been quite a while now since I put Druiva away.”

I swallowed hard. There was really only one answer I needed regarding the Druiva case. “Did you capture him while you were sleeping, Quill?”

Quillan faced me aghast. “Don’t even consider it. You said it nearly killed you already.”

I nodded, not completely giving up on the idea yet but it wasn’t something Quill needed to know. No, I’d already given him too much information as it was. If he were anyone else, I would have considered the case compromised but I trusted Quill. Maybe I was stupid.

“So how did you catch Druiva then?” I continued.

“We tracked him, day and night. We watched over his victims and waited for him to come to us. A Dreamstalker can’t help but come back for his victims to finish them off. It’s hard-wired into them.”

He’d done basically the same thing we were doing now. Dammit, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear because it didn’t seem to me as if our approach was doing a damn bit of good.

“How long did it take to get Druiva into custody?” I asked.

Quill shrugged. “I don’t remember for certain but I’d say a few days at the most.”

Hmm, so our Dreamstalker was playing with us and I couldn’t help but think it was waiting for me to succumb to slumber so it could use its strength in the dream state to kill me.

Quillan, apparently realizing I was lost in thought, tilted my chin up and gazed down at me. “I know you’re contemplating defeating it in sleep. That’s asking for trouble, Dulcie.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “The other thing you have to remember is that if it is a creature ingesting Dreamstalker blood, you don’t know how much it’s had. The more it ingests, the more strength and power it gets. You could end up dealing with something that morphs into a Dreamstalker.”

Hmm, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea then. So we were stuck tracking it the old-fashioned way. Well, at least I had Gargoyle’s Mandrake to keep me alert and awake. The night was looking up.

I sighed and pulled his hand away from my face. “I gotta get going, Quill, before Bram sends the search party.”

Quill laughed. “The search party of one, Bram.”

I smiled sadly. “I’m not sure how to say good-bye.”

He grabbed me and pulled me into his open arms. “This isn’t good-bye, Dulce.” He kissed my head and pushed me away from him. “Don’t do anything to get yourself killed, okay?”

I nodded dumbly before glancing around. “Do us both a favor and find a new hangout. I don’t want to know where you are.”

“I’d reached that conclusion as soon as I realized you’d found me.”

I stepped out from his embrace. “Thanks, Quill.”

He neared the door before seeming to remember something. He paused a moment or two and then glanced back at me. “Am I still in your book?”

I swallowed. He was referring to a time when I’d been writing a historical romance and I’d modeled the character of the pirate hero after Quillan. It had been one of the more embarrassing times of my life when he found the word document complete with his name in one of my sex scenes.

I gave a little embarrassed laugh and thought about the fact that I’d retired that book and started the series about Bram. I glanced at Quillan’s hopeful expression and felt myself doing something I hadn’t done in a long time … lie. “Yeah, you’re still in them. I couldn’t take you out.”

He beamed like a little boy.

NINE

After Bram dropped me off, I hurried up my front steps, unlocked the door and ignored Blue who was pawing at the kitchen door, wanting to be let back in.

“Sorry, boy, but you’ve got to stay out there until I get back. Can’t have you pooping in the house,” I called as I hightailed it into my room and started unzipping my boots, pulling out the Gargoyle’s Mandrake and the comedown pills Quill had given me. I hadn’t wanted Bram to know what my little errand had been about so I’d hidden the evidence in my boots.

I peeled off my skirt and wadded it into a ball, throwing it in front of the door so I’d remember to put it in the trash on my way out. Grabbing a pair of jeans from my chest of drawers, I pulled them up and over my red thong underwear and snatched a sweatshirt, yanking it over my head, not bothering with a shirt. I finished my outfit with my blue and white tennies.

Dulcie O’Neil—from tart to bum in less than sixty seconds.

I eyed the vial of Gargoyle’s Mandrake which I’d placed on the top of my dresser and took a deep breath. Now was the time of reckoning. I’d done a lot to obtain that tiny vial of Mandrake—I couldn’t back down now although it would take everything in my will to go through with this—to break the ANC rules I put so much stock in. Before my brain started to buck at the idea, I reminded myself that this was necessary to save Sam and Jenny.

I held the clear vial up to my nose and shook it a few times, watching the opalescent liquid within slosh against the sides of the vial. Even though the cork cap seemed easy enough to open, that wasn’t the case. Looks were almost always deceiving where Netherworld potions were concerned.

I shook my palm until a mound of fairy dust emerged. Then I blew the particles at the vial, imagining each sparkling prism digging like an earthworm beneath the cork, freeing the wards which were keeping the cork clamped tight. The cork began to spin to the left, the liquid within the vial bubbling up in anticipation. I grasped the cork and pulled it off.

The liquid inside turned to a deep emerald green as soon as it met the air and bubbles began forming along the sides of the vial, popping and hissing as more joined in the fray. The effervescence continued, little green bubbles rising up from the now gelatinous green goo, making their way out of the vial. As the bubbles sailed up from the vial and into the air, they began to bend and warp this way and that, expanding in size as they did so. Their dark green hue became lighter and lighter green as they enlarged, until they were the color of sea foam. Once there were maybe twenty of them swirling around the room, I put the cap back on the vial and opened my mouth, inhaling deeply.

The bubbles seemed to recognize their cue and floated toward me, entering my mouth as they fizzed and burst against my tongue and teeth. Once the last one had migrated into my mouth, I clamped my lips together and swallowed. The taste was like cinnamon gum.

Gargoyle’s Mandrake worked quickly. I’d never taken it before but I’d dealt with enough of it to know how to take it and what to expect. After a few seconds, it started to kick in and felt like a fizzing deep down in my stomach, like I’d taken a few too many Alka-Seltzers. Little by little that bubbling feeling began to work its way into my bloodstream and I could feel the tingle carrying itself into my extremities. My fingers and toes began going numb and I stretched and clenched them, trying to counteract the bizarre feeling.

The intense exhaustion which had lately become my constant companion receded into the background of my body, a blissful energy taking its place. Pretty soon the exhaustion was only a memory and my body was acting like I’d just given it high octane; energy and pleasure coursing through me. I had to remind myself that I still had the weight of the Netherworld on my shoulders and I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in this blissful euphoria. I felt young, like today was the beginning of my life and I felt alive … more alive than I’d ever felt before. I wanted to shout, dance and sing all at the same time and trying to restrain that energy was next to impossible.

I grabbed my leather jacket and threw it over my sweatshirt, wedging my helmet underneath my arm. Luckily, there weren’t any reported issues of driving while under the influence of Mandrake which was a damned good thing because I was needed at the hospital and glancing at the clock in my bedroom, realized I was already thirty minutes late. I had to keep myself from whistling, trying to continuously block the rampant feelings of happiness that encouraged me to evade my responsibilities. I couldn’t afford to screw off, not when Jenny’s and Sam’s lives were still in jeopardy. I locked the front door behind me and approached my bike, keys in hand.

I started the bike and had to suppress a ray of excitement as the engine purred beneath me. The stray thought that I could skip the hospital and take the bike for a joy ride struck me and I had to tear the thought apart. This fighting with myself was beginning to prove tiresome. Maybe it would have been better to be groggy and tired, after all …

Nah, better to be alert.

I gunned the bike and made it to the end of the street in record time. I silently said a prayer of thanks as I swung a right and made for the hospital, afraid my body might try to play the role of hijacker and head for that joyride.

En route to the hospital, I was struck by how verdantly green the lawns were. The song of a swallow echoed through the sky and it was the most melodious and wonderful sound I’d ever heard. The azure blue of the sky was in perfect harmony with the royal purple of the Morning Glories covering Old Man Jonas’s chain link fence and together, they were the epitome of beauty. I felt an indescribable sense of contentment—that I was one of Nature’s children and I was in seamless balance with my surroundings.

Upon reaching the hospital, I could say that the drive over had been the most enjoyable I’d ever taken. Nature was so perfect in her imperfections and the world was such a wondrously magical and special place. It almost made me want to cry.

“Get a grip, Dulce,” I chided myself as I pulled into the Splendor Hospital parking lot. I noticed Knight’s silver BMW M3 Coupe parked just outside the receiving doors so I parked alongside it and killed my engine. Taking off my helmet, I watched Knight step out from behind the driver’s seat. It seemed to take him a second or two to actually recognize me and once he did, his gaze flickered between my hair and the Suzuki, as if he wasn’t quite sure which one should get the privilege of being first discussed.

But I couldn’t really say I was that interested—instead, I had to keep myself from running up to Knight and throwing my arms around him in reckless abandon while forcing my mouth on his. The sudden desire to kiss him was overwhelming and I had to mentally scream at my feet to stay rooted in place.

Knight was just so … incredibly beautiful. He’d always been gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but this was different. He was absolute perfection and his body radiated a whitish glow, gleaming like a prism when the light hit him at a certain angle. His features were still the same—sun-kissed golden complexion, hair as dark as oil, face chiseled as if by Michelangelo. I had to wonder if I was actually seeing him in his natural state or if this was merely a side effect of the Mandrake. Guess I’d never find out because it wasn’t like I was actually going to ask him—talk about blowing my cover!

“I was wondering where the hell you were,” he began in an annoyed tone. He pulled his attention from the Suzuki and focused it on my hair. “What the hell happened to you?”

I laughed and the sound was like bells ringing through my ears. “I’ve been doing research,” I answered, figuring I could tell Knight everything minus the part about Quill and the part about the Mandrake. Everything else was fair game.

“Research?” he repeated skeptically. “And that research required you to color your hair?”

I approached him with a cheery grin. He seemed taken aback—an eyebrow raised in question. “Yep, I had to. I got a lead that took me to downtown Sanctity—you know, the bad parts.”

“Go on,” he said, crossing his arms against his chest.

I didn’t even realize I was staring at his chest until he cleared his throat. I offered an embarrassed smile before turning back to my story. “The only problem with the location was that there were wards in place which meant I couldn’t use magic and I wasn’t about to go into a situation like that as Dulcie O’Neil, prior Regulator who has enemies up the wazoo.” I smiled again, finding the word “wazoo” especially funny.

“So you had to dye your hair?” Knight finished for me.

“What, don’t you like it?” I asked, running a hand through it, which got caught in a curl.

Knight eyed me suspiciously before shaking his head. “No, I like the way you looked before.”

One good thing about Dulcie on Mandrake was that criticisms bounced off me as if I’d magicked myself a “sticks and stones” barrier.

“And what the hell is with the bike?” Knight asked, his voice rising again in anger.

“Suzuki DL 650,” I answered proudly and patted the seat. “She’s pretty freaking fast.”

Knight shook his head before bringing his incredibly perturbed expression back to me. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked. “You barely survived the accident in the Wrangler …”

“Hey, I had little time and even less money,” I snapped, suddenly pleased that the cantankerous (as Bram would say) Dulcie was still in there somewhere. “And I’m not worried about the Dreamstalker coming after me. I’m not planning on sleeping.”

Knight eyed me but said nothing else, instead turning and starting for the hospital. I jogged up to him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to a stop.

“I thought I was on duty tonight?” I asked. Knight had been on all day and into the evening—I was supposedly there to relieve him, or at least I’d thought that was the plan.

Knight glanced down at my hand that was still gripping his bicep and I dropped it. “I figured you might want company,” he said and eyed me as if to reiterate the question before he started forward again.

“Sure,” I began, secretly very pleased to have his company. I’d been wondering what I was going to do all night and day. While there was no other place I’d rather be, other than keeping a watchful eye on Sam and Jenny, victim-sitting wasn’t exactly thrilling. “I’d love some.”

Knight stopped walking, turning around to eye me suspiciously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” I answered, suddenly worried that I was being too uncharacteristically nice. The Mandrake needed to remain my little secret, with no one the wiser. I’d have to play my cards more strategically.

Knight shook his head. “You just seem too energetic, too happy.”

I laughed and it was a tinny, fake sound. “I’m probably losing my mind from the lack of sleep.” Then I eyed him just as warily, suddenly realizing that he looked freshly charged, as if he’d been sleeping for a millennium. “What’s your secret? Why do you look so well rested?”

He shrugged and started for the hospital entrance again, me right beside him. “Sleep is my secret.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. I’d now been awake for over three days and two nights with only an hour and a half of sleep to go on. Meanwhile, Knight had been sleeping all along? “You’ve been able to sleep?” I demanded, fury in my tone. He just nodded self-assuredly. “You haven’t been scared of what might happen to you if the Dreamstalker attacked?”

He turned to face me and smiled broadly. “Nope.”

I shook my head, suddenly incredibly angry with the fact that I’d gone through hell and back just to avoid sleeping and yet he was as well rested as a bear coming out of hibernation. “I don’t understand you—are Lokis safe from Dreamstalkers?”

Knight cocked his head to the side as if he was considering it. Then he shrugged and smiled again. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”

I grumbled underneath my breath and realized the giddy feeling of complete and total bliss was now absent—hmm, maybe it had been a short-term effect of the Mandrake. I still felt amazingly alive and awake but I no longer had the feeling that I was living in Utopia which was just as well because I wasn’t living in Utopia—I was living in Splendor which was about as nice as a troll’s asshole.

The hospital doors slid open and granted us entrance. As soon as we entered the foyer, I nearly walked headlong into Dia and had to stabilize myself against her shoulders while I muttered a quick apology.

“Girl,” she started as she recognized me. Recognition gave way to a smile which erupted into a full blown laugh. “Your hair! What the hell were you thinking?”

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me what the hell I was thinking regarding my hair, I’d have … three dollars.

I continued forward, as if the elevator directly before us would provide solace from the relentless hair jibes. “I really don’t need to hear it from you too,” I ground out.

Dia glanced at Knight as she turned around and escorted us to the elevator. “What the hell was she thinking?”

He chuckled. “She wasn’t.”

I hit the call button and refused to look at either of them.

“Honey, you look like you’re wearing a fright wig,” Dia continued and I made the mistake of glancing at her. She made a face as if she’d eaten something foul. “That is not a good look for you.”

Knight laughed again as the elevator’s bell dinged, announcing its arrival. He held the elevator door for us as I walked inside and barricaded myself in the corner. “Okay, enough, I get it. I look like crap. Point taken.”

“Ah, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Dia began.

“Instead of teasing me, you both should be thanking me,” I interrupted.

“Why’s that?” Dia demanded, crossing her arms against her chest as she tried to stifle another laugh. She was successful and ended up just shaking her head at my … fright wig.

I threw my hands on my hips, thinking they both deserved a little sass. “Because I destroyed the one thing I love about myself, my hair, so I could run recon for both of your sorry asses.”

Dia didn’t look impressed. The elevator doors closed and she hit the button that would take us to floor three. “And?” she prodded.

“And I found out a crapload,” I answered, rubbing my knuckles against my left breast as if to say I was the shit. “But before we get into that subject, how are our patients holding up?”

Dia shrugged. “So far so good.”

“Sam?” I started, glancing at Knight.

“Nothing new to report,” Knight finished. “Trey is watching her now.”

Dia faced him. “Have Shirley and Travis been moved yet?”

I didn’t wait for Knight’s response but turned toward him, the demand for information in my eyes. “Update please.”

He stepped out of the elevator, keeping the door from closing as Dia and I followed suit. “We’ve ordered Travis and Shirley to be moved from Moon General to Splendor. Otherwise, it’s too difficult for Dia to travel back and forth. We thought the Dreamstalker might throw us a curve ball.”

I nodded—that made sense. Since Dia was playing tracker for the victims, it would make her job a hell of a lot easier if the victims were all in the same place—especially since Moon was at least two hours from Splendor. I could only imagine the reason we hadn’t reached this conclusion earlier was due to the fact that Dreamstalkers usually worked in linear patterns, killing their victims one at a time, from first attacked to last attacked. And going by that pattern, it would mean that Jenny would be next, followed by Travis and Shirley and, finally, Sam. Since I was now convinced that this creature wasn’t a full-blooded Dreamstalker but a creature drinking from a full-blooded Dreamstalker, the idea to move Shirley and Travis was that much better since this creature was unpredictable. Who knew who he’d target next?

“Good idea,” I said.

Knight faced Dia again. “And to answer your question, they should be arriving any minute. We’ve freed up the third floor so it’s just Sam, Jenny, Travis and Shirley. And we’ve got security all over this hospital, especially on the third floor.”

Just as he finished his statement, a cop walked past and nodded his head in salutation. Knight paused just beside a hospital room; the door closed. He faced me. “This is Jenny’s room, do you want to check on her?”

I took a deep breath, afraid for what I might find. At this point, according to our deductions, Jenny was living on borrowed time. I turned the doorknob and entered the room, immediately noticing the cop stationed beside the still form of Jenny. He glanced up at me and smiled warmly. I returned the smile and approached him.

“I’m here to relieve you for a bit,” I offered.

The cop didn’t make any motion to leave. “And you are?”

“Dulcie O’Neil,” Knight answered from behind me. “She’s with us.”

The cop stood up, offering me a small smile of apology as he walked past. I turned to face Knight, about to ask for a little personal time with my childhood nanny but he nodded as if he knew what was on my mind.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he said, closing the door behind me.

I felt almost uncomfortable as I approached Jenny—as if I didn’t know what to say after not seeing her in over fifteen years. I stood above her and glanced down at her sweet face—there didn’t appear to be anything wrong—no Dreamstalker attacking her dreams. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. And that was bizarre—at this point, I would have thought she’d be battling for her life, not appearing as serene as Sleeping Beauty.

“Hi, Jenny,” I started and my voice seemed alien somehow. “It’s me, Dulcie O’Neil.”

Of course she didn’t say anything but I had to wonder if she could hear me, if my words might offer encouragement. I grasped her hand and squeezed it.

“I’m going to make sure you get out of this, Jenny. I work in law enforcement with the Splendor ANC,” I continued. “I bet you never thought I’d end up a cop, did you?”

I laughed and eyed the dawn as it broke through Jenny’s window, the yellow rays of the sun absorbing the mysterious darkness of night. Somehow that visual gave me strength and renewed my fervor. With the Mandrake pumping through my system, I was suddenly confident—I knew we could take this guy down.

“I know you’re afraid, Jenny, but we’re going to catch this creature.”

I heard the door open and I glanced behind me at Knight. He smiled before gently closing the door and starting toward me. His footsteps belied his great height and build and I felt myself gulp as he draped his arm around me and glanced down at Jenny.

“How is she doing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I mean, she seems okay—I don’t notice any indication of a struggle which doesn’t make sense.”

Knight nodded as if he knew where I was going with my comment. “This thing isn’t operating under the same rules other Dreamstalkers have.”

“Dia seems convinced it isn’t a Dreamstalker,” I said and eyed him, wondering how he’d take the news that I didn’t think it was a Dreamstalker either.

“Maybe it isn’t,” he said noncommittally and shrugged. “Dia is outside, trying to get a read on whether the Dreamstalker has been around lately or not.”

“How is she able to track them?”

“I’m not sure exactly but apparently she can sense them as long as she’s close enough to one. I think she said it has to be within one hundred feet or something.”

“So if the Dreamstalker isn’t nearby, she’s just wasting her time out there.”

He shook his head. “She can sense them both before and after they visit their victims. Apparently they leave a psychic imprint in the air.”

“Ah, so that’s what she’s searching for now?”

He nodded and pulled up the doctor’s swivel stool, taking a seat. He then motioned to the visitor’s seat just behind me. “Have a seat, Dulce, we’re going to be here for a long time.”

I didn’t argue but released Jenny’s hand, gingerly placing it beneath her blanket before retiring into the visitor’s chair with a sigh. I stretched my legs out before me and crossed them at the ankles.

“We’re waiting on Anna’s autopsy reports to see if it really was her heart that gave out,” Knight continued.

“Even if it was her heart, who’s to say that it wasn’t the Dreamstalker who scared her to death?”

Knight shook his head. “It wouldn’t follow true Dreamstalker death patterns. Death by slumber usually points to solidly functioning organs. It could just be that Anna had a weak heart.”

I shrugged but wasn’t buying it. “Knight, I don’t think it’s a true Dreamstalker either.”

I waited for the words to sink in, for him to argue with me but he just faced me with no emotion. “And I imagine this new opinion came about from this lead you mentioned earlier,” Knight started, raising a brow, as if he expected more from my story. “Who was it from and what was it?”

I glanced up at him. “You should know better than to ask me who my leads are.”

He chuckled. “Yep, I should. What can you tell me, then?”

I took a deep breath, not even really sure where to start. “I found out there is a new form of street potion in the underground. It’s blood.”

“Blood?” Knight repeated doubtfully.

“Blood of the most imposing creatures of the Netherworld is finding its way onto the streets. Apparently creatures are drinking the blood and adopting the strength and power of the creature to whom the blood belongs. And the more they drink, the stronger they become.”

Knight was silent for a few seconds. “Then this Dreamstalker could be …”

“Anything,” I interrupted. “That would explain why Dia couldn’t sense it during Transcendence. Because it never went through Transcendence.”

I could see his brain spinning, building up possible situations and outcomes. “But where you’re concerned …” he started again.

“Whatever it is, it has a personal vendetta against me, that much is obvious.”

He chuckled. “How many Netherworld creatures have you pissed off, Dulce?”

“Too many to count.” I glanced up at him and shook my head. “Way too many to count. I need all my ANC files—I need to find out who did time because of me and who got out.”

“I’ve been working with Elsie to transfer all the hard files to e-files. I told her to start with yours and if I’m not mistaken, she’s already finished them. You have that iPad on you?”

Damn, it was sitting on my desk. “Left it at home but I can run back …”

“Take the BMW,” Knight interrupted in a tone that warned me not to argue with him. “It’s safer than your bike.”

What was it with bossy men who did nothing but worry? It was enough I had to deal with Bram and Quillan. Now I had to add Knight to that list? “You do realize I used to be a Regulator?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ve been through lots worse stuff than taking my bike a few miles down the street to my house.”

“Just placate me, will you?”

I clenched my teeth but didn’t want to get into an argument, especially one as stupid as this promised to be. “Where are your keys?”

He smiled but tried to keep it to himself, probably afraid his gloating would cause me to rethink my position. He fished inside his pocket and handed them to me without a word.

“I need to check on Sam and then I’ll head home,” I said and stood up, starting for the door. I didn’t wait for a response.

“Roger that,” Knight called behind me.

As I entered the hallway, Trey suddenly accosted me and forced a manila folder into my hands. “What’s this?” I asked, glancing down at it.

“It’s all the info I could find on Shirley Mickelson, like you requested,” he said and beamed, his chest held high.

I’d forgotten that I’d even asked for the information in the first place. “Thanks, Trey.” I opened the folder and quickly scanned through the contents before facing him with a smile. “Looks like you did an awesome job. I’ll take a look at it right away.”

***

As soon as I stepped inside my door, I didn’t waste any time and hurried to my kitchen table, opening the file Trey had given me. Knight and his iPad could wait a few minutes. As I searched through Trey’s chicken scratch notes, I read accounts of Shirley Mickelson’s personality, as told to Trey by her neighbors, family and friends. There was a full page of information on where she’d grown up and gone to school, when she’d wed, how many kids she’d had, awards she’d won … Holy Hades, Trey had been detailed in his research. I definitely owed him a lunch for this one.

After reading through more information on Shirley Mickelson than I’d ever wanted to know, I glanced at the last sheet in the file which was a list of all her home addresses.

And that’s when I realized her connection to me—Shirley Mickelson and her husband had owned the house my mother and I had rented when I’d been in my early teens, before my mother had died and I’d moved to Splendor.

TEN

Anna Murphy had died from a heart attack. At least that’s what the autopsy revealed. I, myself, still wasn’t convinced that her death had nothing to do with the Dreamstalker or whatever it was that we were dealing with. My beliefs ran more along the lines that her heart had simply expired because she’d been too freaked out by everything that had happened to her. But apparently, I was in the minority, because everyone else bought the whole “heart failure from natural means” diagnosis. I had to wonder if it wasn’t just wishful thinking on everyone else’s part.

It had been another two nights of recon missions at the hospital and we still had nothing to show for it. Time was slipping through our hands like sand and although Jenny’s disposition had remained stable, the same couldn’t be said for Sam’s. If Sam hadn’t looked good before, she looked horrible now—she’d lost weight, her skin was sallow and her eyes sunken. It was pretty obvious what was happening—the Dreamstalker (I’d decided to continue to refer to him as such simply because I didn’t know what else to call him … course, son-of-bitch-asshole-who-needed-to-die also worked) was getting restless, no pun intended. He’d been planning on the fact that I’d succumb to sleep sooner rather than later and the Mandrake had thrown a huge wrench in his plans. So now he was going for my jugular—he was going for Sam.

I’d stood by Sam’s bedside twenty four/seven while Knight, Trey and Dia as well as the rest of both Splendor ANC and Moon ANC units scouted the hospital, searching for any sign of foul play. Of course, Dia couldn’t detect the slightest sign of the Dreamstalker which cemented the fact that our Dreamstalker was anything but full blooded.

Dia had given up relying on her Somnogobelinus sixth sense as well—pretty much after I agreed with her wholeheartedly that we weren’t dealing with a true Dreamstalker and she had, instead, resorted to tracking it the old-fashioned way by interviewing hospital staff, watching hospital security footage and gathering clues, all of which yielded nothing.

I’d now been awake for over five days and my sanity was becoming compromised. Even though a never-ending stream of energy coursed through me, courtesy of the Mandrake, I could feel my body wilting behind a mask of vitality. I’d lost my appetite and couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something worth a damn. I just snacked here and there, whenever my mind reminded my stomach that it had been hours, sometimes a day since my last meal. My clothes hung limply from my already lithe figure and dark circles had taken up permanent lodging underneath my eyes.

Dia had offered her sleep services numerous times but I’d flatly declined her offers, knowing the Mandrake wouldn’t allow me to sleep, no matter how hard I tried. I almost regretted taking it … almost. I was down to my last two Mandrake doses and we still didn’t have any breaks in the case. Panic dwelt in my gut and alongside the ever-flowing river of Mandrake-induced energy, I was surprised I hadn’t had a heart attack myself.

But the state of my physical health wasn’t the worst of it. The worst, scariest part of the whole damned situation was the fact that I was starting to hallucinate. I was seeing things that weren’t there and things I shouldn’t have been seeing.

The visions started a night or so ago, I thought—I’d lost track of time, and I’d been at the hospital, sitting at Sam’s bedside when I’d heard a faint cooing sound. I glanced behind me and felt my heart drop to my toes as a baby crawled past Sam’s open door and down the corridor. I lurched from my seat and ran into the hallway, only to find an empty corridor greeting me. There had been no baby—there’d been nothing at all.

Later that same evening, I went home to take a quick shower and feed the dog when Knight suddenly materialized in my living room—materialized as if he’d just stepped out of thin air a la Bram-style. He stood in front of me but said nothing, staring at me with unadulterated lust, the same expression I’d seen him wear on more than one occasion.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked as Blue whined and clawed at the kitchen door, wanting to be let in. But I wasn’t concerned with the dog at the moment, what I was concerned with was how the hell Knight had pulled a Scotty and beamed himself right into my living room.

Knight said nothing but continued to stare at me, only now a smile tilted the ends of his lips.

“Hello? Earth to the Loki,” I continued, annoyed with his games.

He didn’t respond but simply disappeared—back into the atmosphere from whence he’d come. I didn’t even have the chance to ponder how completely bizarre the situation had been because moments later my phone rang.

I gripped the receiver, bringing it to my mouth before checking the caller ID as I opened the kitchen door and Blue came galloping in.

“Hello?” I demanded, petting Blue’s head as he danced around me.

“It’s me,” Knight answered.

“Where the hell did you go?”

There was silence on the other line. “What?”

I sighed and it was full of frustration. “Two seconds ago, you showed up in my house uninvited and when I tried to talk to you, you just ignored me and left. Really nice, Knight, I don’t have the time for this crap.”

More silence. I pulled out the Alpo bag from my broom closet and walked to the back door, reaching down for Blue’s bowl as I wondered if Knight had dropped off the line.

“Hello?” I insisted, placing Blue’s food dish on the kitchen floor.

“Dulcie, is everything okay?” Knight asked in a concerned voice.

“Yes,” I bit out, wondering why the hell he was playing games. We didn’t have time for games. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve been at the hospital ever since you left—I never came to see you.”

Now it was my turn for silence—the only sound in the room was the tinkling of the dog kibbles as they dropped into the silver bowl. Blue devoured them hungrily as I wondered what the hell was wrong with me? First I’d seen a baby who wasn’t there and now I’d imagined Knight? I was losing my mind—it was a sign that I had to get off the Mandrake. But the very thought of abandoning the Mandrake suddenly made my gut clench and anger bubbled up within me. I couldn’t go cold turkey, er, cold fairy. I couldn’t stop taking the Mandrake, not now when Sam’s life still depended on it. No, my resolution was firm—I had to crack the case and I had two days left to do it in; if no one else would help me, then damn them. I’d do it myself.

“Are you still there?” Knight asked.

“Yeah,” I started, my voice echoing my muddled thoughts. “Sorry. I must have just … been confused, that’s all.”

He cleared his throat. “Dulcie, you need to sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dia said she offered to give you a couple of hours and you turned her down … repeatedly.”

Damn Dia and her big mouth. “I don’t have time to sleep. Not when Sam’s life depends on us finding this guy,” I blurted out.

“Your health is suffering, Dulcie, you don’t look good.”

“To hell with looking good!” I yelled into the phone. “I don’t give a shit about my hair or …”

“I’m not talking about your hair,” Knight snapped. “I’m talking about the fact that you’ve lost too much weight, you aren’t eating and you look sick.” He paused. “And now it sounds like you’re seeing things.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m focused on my best friend and not my looks,” I spat out, ignoring the part about seeing things. I didn’t have an excuse for that one.

“Stop turning this around on me, Dulcie. You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I …”

“Anyway, you need to take the night off. I’m going to send Dia over later and you’d better get some sleep, understood?”

“Don’t send Dia over,” I started, panic spiraling through me as I realized I’d be found out as soon as Dia realized I couldn’t fall asleep. “I’m coming back to the hospital. I’m not leaving Sam by herself.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Knight said in a steely voice. “I’m the head of this investigation and what I say goes. Dia is coming over tonight and you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Before I could argue, he hung up.

“Cocky bastard!” I yelled into the receiver before slamming the phone down. Blue jumped about two feet and retired to the far end of the room, his tail between his legs. I put my hand out, trying to coax him back over again. “Sorry, boy, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t make any motion to approach me and, instead, went back to his half-eaten bowl of kibbles and picked up where he’d left off, eyeing me suspiciously from time to time as if to make sure I wasn’t going to wig out on him again.

I collapsed onto the couch and tried to concentrate on what to do next. I attempted to focus but my mind was beyond the point of concentration and into the realm of make believe.

A knock on the door grabbed my attention as irritation swept through me. Dia. Knight must have told her to stop by as soon as I’d left the hospital—what a piece of work he was. Well, they both were about to find out what a piece of work I could be. I stood up, marched over to the door and was about to lambaste Dia but the words died in my throat once I pulled the door open.

“Quill?” I asked, keeping the door open only a sliver as Blue came trotting over, probably intending to bite my visitor.

Quill smiled and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Hi, Dulce, can I come in?”

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly wondering if he was just a figment of my completely distorted imagination.

I reached out and pinched his forearm.

“Ow, what the hell did you do that for?” he demanded, and cradled his arm like I’d just hacked into it with a machete.

“So you are real?” I announced, still eyeing him as if he weren’t. “Because I’ve had enough visits from people who aren’t there. So if you aren’t real then buzz the fuck off!”

He frowned, his brows knotting in the middle of his forehead. “Of course I’m real,” he said and eyed me askance. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sick of people asking me that!” I bellowed. “Yes, I’m freaking as fine as someone could be whose best friend is dying!” I couldn’t help but choke on the words.

“Dulcie, let me in,” Quill said and his tone was compassionate, concerned. “I’m worried about you—obviously you’re still on the Mandrake.”

“Don’t be worried about me,” I said and sighed. “I’m okay.”

Blue yanked away from me and poked his nose out of the door. Quill’s lips broke out into a huge smile. “Hi, Blue, remember me?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I began as Quill leaned down and put his hand on Blue’s muzzle. The dog did nothing but paw at the door, as if he wanted to be let out. “Wow,” I started, amazed that Blue hadn’t tried to bite him, or at the very least, growled.

“Dulce?” Quill prodded again, glancing up at me as if to say he hadn’t forgotten the fact that I was losing my mind, becoming completely certifiable.

I stepped aside and allowed him entrance, shrugging as I figured he was as real as he was going to get. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” he said and walked inside, offering me a cheery smile as Blue, all smiles and wagging tail, circled him. Quill leaned down again and wrestled the dog into a bear hug, rubbing his head as he did so. I guess it made sense that Blue would accept Quill considering Quill was the one who gave me the dog in the first place.

“He likes me,” Quill said as he glanced up for my approval.

I just shook my head, my thoughts turning to more important issues such as the fact that Quill had taken a big chance in coming here. I glanced down, realizing I was still clutching the doorknob and poked my head out, checking both sides of the street to make sure Dia hadn’t decided to visit at the most inopportune moment. No sign of her so I closed the door and locked it. “You shouldn’t have come. How did you know I didn’t have anyone from the ANC here?”

I watched him walk into my living room, glancing around as if to make sure everything was as he remembered it, that nothing had changed. It was sad almost—like he was ensuring I was the same old Dulcie he’d always known. I was sure he didn’t need me to tell him things weren’t the same and never would be.

“I’ve been watching your house since you got home,” he answered nonchalantly before approaching me. He reached for my face and tilted it upwards, studying me. “You need to get off the Mandrake.”

“I can’t, Quill …”

He shook his head. “You’re getting addicted, I can see it in your eyes. And now it sounds like you’re hallucinating?”

“It’s worse than it looks,” I started, thinking of any excuse I could. “I just need a little more time, Quill.”

“Dulce …”

“I only have two doses left and then I’m out,” I said and smiled anxiously. “I don’t imagine you’ll give me more.” It was more a question than a statement.

Quill shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m still irritated with myself that I gave you any to begin with.”

“Just give me a few more days, Quill, that’s all I ask for. Sam would thank you,” I added, almost guiltily.

He sighed and didn’t say anything, as if he was internally arguing with himself about whether or not to trust me.

“Please,” I began, racking my brain for a change of subject. Finding one, I latched onto it like a life preserver. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve got information for you,” he said simply. “Do you have time to talk?”

“No,” I began. “I’m expecting someone from the ANC any second and it wouldn’t be a good thing if you’re here.”

“When can we talk then?”

I chewed my bottom lip as I thought about the fact that I really didn’t want to be home when Dia came calling—I needed to avoid the whole sleep situation. What better way than play MIA for a few hours?

“Meet me at the Hyatt on Clover Street in Estuary in forty-five minutes,” I started, thinking Quill might be recognized in Splendor so it was too risky to be seen out and about. He’d been incredibly stupid coming to my apartment in full daylight.

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled and walked him to the back door. “Once you’re checked in, leave an envelope for Cindy Jones at the counter with your room number in it.” I mentioned the name Cindy Jones because I didn’t want anything tying me to this meeting with Quill. But knowing Quill, he’d check in under a false name anyway.

Quill nodded, observing me like a proud parent. “I’ve taught you well, Cindy.”

I smiled sadly. “I learned from the best.”

He didn’t say anything more but opened the back door and disappeared around the corner. I glanced at Blue who sat down on his haunches and whimpered.

***

The Hyatt in Estuary was decently nice. I pushed aside the vertically striped brown and blue curtains from the window and glanced down at Estuary Park, watching a kid learning how to ride his bike as his parents hovered protectively.

I was suddenly struck with the thought of how different this situation could have been—how in another life Quill and I could have been in this hotel room together for completely different reasons—maybe we were vacationing or meeting for a lovers’ tryst. He could have been drawing a bath for me while I chattered on about something that didn’t matter, merely trying to draw attention away from my anxious thoughts which revolved around the fact that he and I were alone …

But thoughts like those were pointless and I wasn’t one of those people who saw the world through rose-colored lenses. I preferred the hard and oftentimes ugly reality that was around me, that I knew so well.

“I dug a little deeper into the whole black market blood operation that I told you about earlier,” Quill started and took a seat on the king-sized bed. The comforter was the same drab brown of the curtains and the bed was piled with so many pillows, it actually looked uncomfortable. I pulled my attention away from the window, releasing the curtain and took a seat on a nearby chair, covered in a polka dot blue and brown to, yes, match the curtains and the coverlet on the bed.

“And what did you find out?” I asked.

“There is Dreamstalker blood on the market.”

I nodded, not finding the announcement at all surprising. “I figured. So how is anyone getting it? The only two Dreamstalkers are still in prison.”

Quill shrugged. “Apparently it’s coming from Banshee. I’m not exactly sure how but that’s the point of origination. Somehow the blood is passing hands in Banshee and ending up on the streets. But Dreamstalkers aren’t even the worst offenders. There’s Kraken blood and some sicko has been selling Dragon’s blood but calling it Chupacabra.”

“Dragon’s blood will kill whoever takes it,” I said, my mouth dropping open.

“Yep,” Quill said. “Not surprisingly, there have been lots of DOAs.”

I said nothing more, my mind in a tailspin, too many thoughts colliding into one another. If Banshee Prison was the source of the blood, who was the one providing it? Was it controlled solely by inmates or something more sinister?

“Dulcie, let me help you with this case,” Quill said with pleading eyes.

I immediately shook my head. “You know I can’t do that, Quill. You aren’t ANC anymore.”

His jaw was tight. “Neither are you.”

“I’m still working with them.”

Quill stood up and came closer to me, glancing down with determination in his eyes. “Dulcie, you need my help. I got Druiva behind bars before—I can do it again.”

I stood up and wrapped my arms around myself. I was entirely too close to him and the smell of his aftershave was causing a flutter in my stomach that needed to be eradicated ASAP. “This isn’t even a Dreamstalker,” I said without realizing it. I could have kicked myself as I hadn’t wanted to reveal the slightest hint about the case and I’d just mouthed the biggest one.

Dammit to hell.

“Interesting,” Quill nodded, his smile revealing the fact that he’d realized my faux pas.

“No, it’s not interesting and do me a favor and forget that I told you. I refuse to get you involved.”

His body language said he wasn’t going to back down. “You’ve just basically told me the guts of the whole case. You might as well come out with the rest.

I was quiet as I considered it. Quillan was an amazing cop and he had busted Druiva which meant his help would be that much more necessary. Apparently, I’d already made the decision to include him. I nodded, knowing I was defeated. “You keep all of these case details to yourself,” I said.

“Of course.”

My lips were tight. “Quill, I’m trusting you and I’m serious. None of this leaves this room.”

“I know, Dulce, my lips are sealed.”

I swallowed hard and turned toward the window again, almost like I couldn’t face him, knowing I was breaking ANC rules. Knight would definitely have fired me from the case right then and there if he knew what I was doing. Hmm, or maybe he would have locked me up. I was never sure about anything where Knight was concerned.

“I’m pretty sure our killer isn’t really a Dreamstalker,” I started. “But it’s something posing as one. And I’m sure I locked the bastard away years ago because all the victims have had something to do with me.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed, and glanced at Quill again, not sure where to begin. “The first two deaths were girls in my second grade class. My childhood nanny is now in a coma, my boyfriend from high school, my mother’s landlady and now Sam.”

“Your best friend,” Quill said absently—it meant his mind was racing with thoughts—thoughts too fast for his mouth to keep up with. “Sounds like you’re up to your ears.”

I laughed but it was a dry sound. “You could say that.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?”

I glanced at the small, round table in front of the solitary chair. I’d put my backpack on the table and inside the backpack was the iPad. No one could tell me I wasn’t prepared. “I started going through the files and writing down possibilities but there are just too many who have reason to hate me. I got a lot of assholes locked up, Quill,” I said with a sad smile. “And a number of them have been released.”

“So we start from the beginning and go through contact after contact. Give me the list and I’ll help you get through it.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Quill had been involved in every case, every step of the way. If there was anyone to have on my side, it would have been him. I glanced at the backpack and unzipped it, grabbing the iPad.

“You have to promise me this isn’t going to come back to bite me in the ass,” I started.

“Dulce,” Quill warned, as if to say we’d already been through this conversation.

Well, I didn’t care. He needed to know how important his silence was. “What you see in this room stays in this room.”

He smiled. “That almost sounds naughty.”

I shook my head. “I’m serious, Quill.”

He sighed. “Dulcie, you can trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that.”

I laughed acidly at his words. His disloyalty to the ANC had hurt me in ways he would never know. Even now I wondered if I’d seriously lost my mind that I was allowing him in on this case. The old Dulcie of just a few months ago would have bucked at the idea and, instead, probably tried to arrest him.

“This is going to be the extent of our liaison, you know that, right?” I asked, eyeing him warily.

He nodded and dropped his gaze to his large hands. “I figured.”

I turned back to the window and watched the boy on the bike take a tumble. He stood up, glanced down at his grass stained corduroys and started crying. His mother enveloped him in a bear-like hug and all was right with his world again.

“I’ll accept your assistance with this case because Sam needs all the help she can get but after this, we go back to how we used to be,” I said in a firm tone.

“Enemies,” he finished.

I glanced at him. “I can’t work double duty, Quill. Even though I’m no longer a Regulator, I still work for the ANC. I can’t and I won’t maintain a relationship with you, not after I know what circles you travel in.”

He frowned and stood up, dwarfing me. “You maintain a relationship with Dagan and Bram,” he began angrily. “How can I be any worse than they are?”

Dagan was a demon who owned an S&M club, Payne. There were few worse than he was. “I’ve never busted them for anything,” I said but the excuse sounded just as flimsy to me as I was sure it sounded to him.

“You know they’re less than model citizens,” he said and he was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my head. I didn’t dare turn around from facing the window.

“You’re different,” I started, trying to think of the reasons why he was different. What it boiled down to was the fact that Quill had been allowed into my inner circle and Bram and Dagan never had. Because Quill had burned me, I couldn’t stomach the idea of maintaining any sort of connection with him. In this case, it was better to rip the Band-Aid off and scream with the pain but also be done with it.

“How am I different?” Quill demanded as he ran his hands up and down my arms.

“I really don’t want to get into this right now, Quill. You’re not going to like what comes out of my mouth.”

His hands stopped rubbing my arms and he backed away. I took it as my cue to turn on the iPad and start sorting through the various creatures who might be our perpetrator.

***

Three hours later I was back at home and in the process of listening to an angry voice mail from Dia where she berated me for ditching her. I pressed delete and sank into my couch, wondering what to do with the rest of my day and evening. Knight wouldn’t take it well if I showed up at the hospital, but I had to wonder if I really cared. Obviously I wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon which meant I’d be better off at Sam’s bedside than twiddling my thumbs at home, especially if the Dreamstalker decided to attack. If Knight wanted me gone, he could forcibly remove me. Course, I wouldn’t have put that past him.

My mind was made up—I was going back to the hospital.

Besides, I had news for Knight. Quill and I had pared the list of suspects down to a mere twenty who could possibly be our Dreamstalker, based on two factors: whether I sent them to Banshee and if they’d either been released or escaped. Even though escaping from Banshee was beyond rare, it did happen. And from the research Quill and I had done into the ANC bios, there had been one escapee.

Even though the list of possible culprits was decently long, I actually felt good about the fact that we had a starting point, something to go on. I shook my head as I realized how helpful it would have been to have this list five days ago but there was no use in crying over counterfeit Dreamstalkers or the fact that it had taken us the better part of a week to even figure out the Dreamstalker was counterfeit.

I grabbed my backpack, my helmet and gave Blue a kiss on the head before putting him outside. I started for my bike and wondered how much shit Knight was going to give me.

Guess I was just a glutton for punishment.

ELEVEN

The gods must have been smiling down on me because when I arrived at the hospital, Knight was nowhere to be found and Dia refused to speak to me which meant my time was my own. I took up residency next to Sam and held her hand as I prattled on about random things that really didn’t matter. I just imagined if I were stuck in a coma, afraid for my life, there would be nothing I’d rather hear than Sam’s voice encouraging me and telling me things were going to be alright. I could only hope she could hear me.

Sam didn’t look any worse than she had the last time I’d seen her—course, I couldn’t imagine it was possible for her to look any worse and still be alive.

After about thirty minutes, I got sick of hearing myself talk so I continued holding Sam’s hand, but turned my thoughts inward. Even though Dia, Knight and now Quill had all said it would be a suicide mission to fight the Dreamstalker in sleep, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was the only way. Otherwise, we were stuck in a perpetual holding pattern; neither the Dreamstalker nor we were willing to budge. And I knew what the bastard was waiting for—me to finally admit that I needed to meet him on his turf, in dreams.

I turned on the iPad and connected to the Internet, continuing my research into lucid dreaming. I had to imagine this was my answer—if I could gain control of my dreams enough to use magic against the asshole, I could kill him.

I grabbed my backpack and rifled through it until I found a pen and a pad of paper. Then I started jotting down the keys to lucid dreaming, hoping that in writing them down, I’d commit them to memory.

Once I realize I’m dreaming, I can take control and alter the dream—changing things like the scenery, the characters, etc. (Note: maybe this would be important in case the Dreamstalker wants to meet me in his own territory.)

Pretty much anyone can learn lucid dreaming through motivation and effort. Spontaneous lucid dreams rarely occur. In order to create the lucid dream environment, I have to recognize the fact that I’m dreaming while I’m dreaming.

In order to learn lucid dreaming, dream recalling is imperative. Why? Because when I remember my dreams, I become familiar with them—their patterns. This way I can recognize a dream as it happens, thereby allowing me the opportunity to control it.

I glanced up from my notebook and tried to remember the last dream I’d had—I couldn’t recall dreaming at all when Dia had allowed me the sweet respite of an hour and a half. And the time I’d been asleep prior to that was when the Dreamstalker had nearly killed me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good dream to go on—I mean, it had been pretty much controlled by the Dreamstalker entirely so I had to admit the answer to that question was a definite no.

Like a blast from the past that hit me like an anvil over the head, I remembered the first explicit dream I’d ever had about Knight—in it he’d helped me get over Jack, my ex-asshole. Even though I wasn’t thrilled with the content of the dream because it was entirely X-rated, I forced myself to pay attention to it, to write down characteristics that might help me in the future. I had to practice, right?

I turned back to my notebook and continued writing.

Dream with Knight:

I was in my bedroom, naked in my bed. Jack was there and we’d been talking about the fact that he’d really screwed me up since our breakup—I could trace all my trust issues back to him. Jack had proceeded to seduce me and I’d been unable to stop him.

Then there was Knight. Knight told me to let go of Jack, to tell him he was now a part of my past.

I glanced up as I considered the dream—maybe it had been a pseudo lucid dream—I mean, I hadn’t realized I was dreaming but with Knight’s help, I was able to take control of the situation and force Jack into the background where eventually, he disappeared. Maybe I could do the same thing where the Dreamstalker was concerned?

Granted, in the Jack dream I required Knight’s assistance but maybe none of that mattered, especially since Knight said he was only able to interrupt my slumber, not control it. So did that mean I was responsible for sending Jack away? Maybe it had just been the power of suggestion? Hmm … I’d never really know because I wasn’t about to ask Knight, not when the dream had involved him and his fingers in places I’d rather not think about ...

The point was that I’d been able to take control in that dream so why wouldn’t I be able to recreate that same ability?

I turned back to the pad of paper and continued writing, trying to shake images of Knight and the things he did to my naked body.

How to take control of a dream: Dream Signs

Usually the sleeper can figure out if she’s sleeping by the fantastical elements in dreams—things like flying or seeing dead people. If I can figure out that these signs mean I’m dreaming, I can get control of my dream.

What to do if I start to come out of the dream: Spinning

If the dream shows signs of ending like a loss of detail or vividness of the imagery, the technique of “spinning” can bring the dream back. Simply spin my dream body around like I’m trying to get dizzy. (Note: what the hell does this mean?)

“Dulcie.”

I glanced up and felt my stomach drop as Knight glared at me. I snapped my journal shut and shoved it back into the backpack before he had the chance to play detective.

“Hi,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.

Knight didn’t say anything or smile but tilted his head slightly in greeting. I couldn’t help the nerves that short-circuited through me. I was uneasy—my sweaty palms were evidence enough. And Knight’s silence wasn’t helping. Then I suddenly remembered the information I had for him.

“I have a list of possible suspects,” I started, my voice edgy. “We’ll need to order blood tests for each one to see if they’ve been ingesting or shooting up Dreamstalker blood.”

“Good,” Knight said. He didn’t appear to be as pissed off as I might have imagined. Or maybe the hurricane just hadn’t made its way this far south yet.

I reached inside my backpack and produced the list of names, handing it to him. He didn’t even bother glancing at it, but folded it in half and put it under his arm. “I’m hungry, care to join me?” he asked and I could honestly say it was the last thing I would have imagined to come out of his mouth.

Taken aback, it took me a second to respond. I glanced at Sam and wasn’t sure I should leave her side. “One of us should watch her.”

“I’ll put Trey on it,” he said quickly and poked his head out of the door, hollering down the hallway to Trey. He glanced at me again and his jaw was tight like he was holding something back. “We won’t be gone long—I’ll hit the drive through.”

I didn’t say anything else but stood up and grabbed my backpack, not wanting to leave the iPad unattended. Knight turned on his foot and started for the door, me right behind him. I wasn’t sure if he was going to call me on the fact that I’d ditched Dia and wasn’t supposed to be at the hospital but I figured I’d leave that conversation to him.

“Where do you feel like going?” he asked, as we walked into the elevator.

“I don’t care. I’m really not hungry.”

He nodded but it wasn’t a nod that was in any way understanding—especially not by the fact that his jaw was just as tight as it had been. I had to wonder why he wasn’t freaking out on me yet. This wasn’t like Knight. Maybe he didn’t want to cause a scene in the hospital?

“Wendy’s it is, then.”

I followed him to his BMW and pulled open the passenger door before he could open it for me. He eyed me discouragingly but said nothing. Once I was buckled in and we were driving down the road, I couldn’t handle the silent treatment any longer.

“So why aren’t you yelling at me yet?” I demanded.

“Why did you think I would?”

“Um, because I know you too well.”

He chuckled but it sounded forced. He came to the stop sign at the end of the street and hung a left. Wendy’s was to the right.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“I like the Wendy’s closer to my house,” he answered. Fast food was fast food. Wendy’s hamburger patties were just as square here as they were in his neck of the woods, but who was I to argue? Knight could have his little OCD tendencies—that was fine by me. I settled back into my chair, surprised by the fact that I hadn’t been read my rights yet. Maybe this day was going to be better than I’d imagined.

“So, given the fact that the Dreamstalker isn’t a real one, don’t you think we should change the way we’re going after it? Clearly the sitting and waiting game isn’t working,” I started, finding his silence less than thrilling.

He took another turn in the opposite direction from his house.

“And what did you have in mind?” he asked.

My attention was pulled from the fact that either Knight’s sense of direction was seriously shitty or he was pulling a fast one on me. “I think we need to go after it on its turf,” I said absentmindedly before turning to the more important subject. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Fighting it on its turf is a suicide mission,” he began, apparently ignoring my second question. “We’ve already had this discussion.”

“Enough with trying to avoid the real question here, Knight, where are we going?” He didn’t answer but he really didn’t need to once he turned down my street. The answer was pretty crystal clear. “Why are we going to my house?” I insisted.

He said nothing but parked in front of my apartment building and then turned to face me and his expression was blank. “We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way.”

While I tried to understand what the hell he was talking about, my heart began pounding as it jumped to conclusions. He stepped out of the car and before I had the chance to think, he was at my side, opening the door for me.

“What is this about?” I demanded.

“Dulcie, step out of the car. We need to have a conversation.”

“To hell with you,” I blurted and undid my seatbelt as I jumped out of the car, attempting to sidestep him. His hand was like iron as it wrapped around my wrist. “Let go of me,” I seethed.

He shrugged. “If you want to make a spectacle of yourself in front of your neighbors, I have no problem with that. If you want more privacy, then let’s take it inside.”

I gulped, suddenly afraid he’d figured out I was on something. What else could this have been about? Knight wasn’t stupid. I said nothing but started for my apartment, with half a mind to sic Blue on him. At least the Mandrake was buried deep in my panties drawer. And it wasn’t like I was about to admit anything about the Mandrake to him anytime soon. So, for now, my secret was safe.

I unlocked my front door and he pushed it open. I stepped inside the apartment and he closed and locked the door behind me.

“What the hell is this all about?”

He took off his coat and draped it over a chair by the door. “It’s about the Mandrake, Dulcie.”

I felt my heart drop to my feet. He knew. “What … what are you talking about?”

He laughed but the sound was bitter. “Enough. It wasn’t difficult to figure out—you haven’t slept in over five days; you look sick and you’re hallucinating.”

“So what? Those are all common side effects resulting from sleeplessness.”

He scoffed at me, crossing his arms against his great expanse of chest. “And you expect me to believe you’ve been staying awake on caffeine?” he asked. “Please.”

“You can leave now,” I said as a pang of anxiety overcame me. He was going to try to get me to give up the Mandrake. I had one dose left and there was no way in hell I was going to let him take it from me. Beads of perspiration formed along my hair line and I could already feel them gliding down the small of my back. But none of that mattered. What did matter was that Knight knew my secret and he was going to try to take me off the Mandrake. Or maybe he was going to arrest me?

He reached inside his pants pocket and produced a white pill the size of a dime. He handed it to me. “Like I said, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“What is that?” I asked, backing away from it.

“It’s Corel Root,” he started. “Direct from the Netherworld. It’ll clear you out and speed up your withdrawals. You’re going to be a hell cat to deal with for the next few hours but I can handle it.”

I glared at him and shook my head. “I’m not taking that.”

He shrugged and put the pill back into his pocket. “The hard way it’ll be then.”

Before I had the chance to respond, he lurched for me and grabbed hold of my waist, hefting me over his shoulder. I yelled and batted my ineffectual hands against his massive back but I might as well have been a toddler putting up a fight for all the good it did me.

Without even thinking, I shook my fist until a mound of fairy dust emerged, then I dumped it on him, envisioning him shrinking until he was mouse-sized. The fairy dust just shimmered on his shoulders in an array of ineffectual glitter and fell to the ground as he chuckled.

“Your magic won’t work on me, or have you forgotten?”

I had remembered but by that time, I’d already doused him. Not that it mattered now anyway—my magic might not work but my fists and legs would. I beat against his back repeatedly and then attempted to de-ball him with a well-aimed foot to his nads but neither approach was successful. He merely deposited me against the couch and even as I attempted to get up, he was on top of me, straddling and holding my legs down with his thighs. Now with my legs out of the fighting picture, I tore at him with fists and nails but he didn’t act fazed and, instead, forced my arms down.

“I’m trying to help you, Dulcie.”

“Like hell you are,” I seethed. “Get off me!”

I’m not sure how he did it since his hands were busily engaged with holding me down, but he managed to pull the Corel Root from his pocket and before I could stop him, he had my lips pursed together like a fish. He forced the pill between them and slammed his palm over my mouth, preventing me from any chance to spit it out.

“Swallow it,” Knight demanded.

Once the thing hit my tongue, it dissolved and felt like sand, spreading over my tongue and the back of my throat. A second or so later, nothing was left. I turned my head to the side, thinking I could spit out whatever was left but Knight wedged his arm between the couch and my face until I found myself glaring back up at him again. Figuring I’d lost the battle, I swallowed.

“There, I swallowed the fucking thing, are you happy now?”

He made no motion to get off me. “Now the fun starts.”

“What the hell is that supposed to …”

Before I could complete my sentence, I was silenced by what felt like liquid heat coursing through me. It started as a gentle warmth, like drinking warm coffee. But the gentle warmth began to spread and the temperature increased until it felt like a furnace erupting within me. I thought for sure I’d become a victim of spontaneous combustion. I thrashed back and forth, trying to quell the flames even as they burned me from the inside out.

“I’m on fire!” I screamed.

“It’s in your imagination,” Knight responded coolly, his hands restraining me until I could barely wiggle against the couch.

I clenched my eyes shut tight and screamed as the pain ripped through me.

“Dulcie, just be strong, you will get through this,” Knight’s voice interrupted me.

I opened my eyes, which were now streaming with tears and faced him in ire. “I hate you!” I screamed. “You did this to me!”

I tried to push up from my position on the couch, straining against him, but he was like trying to move a boulder.

“This will last a few more seconds,” he ground out.

Another firestorm coursed through me and I wailed out again, writhing in agony. Pretty soon my screams were reduced to whimpers as the fire started to die down, feeling more like glowing embers in my stomach. After another few seconds, the pain subsided entirely.

I blinked a few times and opened my eyes. “It stopped,” I started in a coarse voice.

Knight nodded and sat up, stretching his arms out. “It’s not over.”

“What do you mean?” I insisted in shock. “I can’t take any more of that pain.”

He shook his head. “The pain is over but you’re going to go through withdrawals—what would normally take days is going to take about a half hour.”

“I didn’t just go through withdrawals?” I continued, my voice betraying fear and anger.

Knight shook his head and sighed. “Nope, that was just the beginning.”

I laid back against the couch, more frightened than I’d ever been. And it wasn’t a rational fear, necessarily, it was more a fear that had to do with the Mandrake leaving my body, being forced out by the Corel Root. And the answer to my problems was suddenly obvious. I needed that last Mandrake dose, I needed it like nothing I’d ever needed before. I had to remind myself that physically, I wasn’t able to take on Knight, I was like a fly to his lion. That meant I’d have to rely on my smarts, on my feminine wiles. And one thing I was more than aware of was the fact that Knight wanted me.

I couldn’t help my smile as I realized I had a weapon that was entirely more powerful than brawn. “I’m okay,” I said and laid my head back against the couch, my chest heaving with my elevated breathing.

Knight continued straddling me, staring down at me as if trying to figure out if I was trying to pull a fast one.

“I mean it, I’m fine,” I repeated.

All I could focus on was getting my hands on the last dose of Mandrake and if I could catch Knight unaware enough, I could grab the Op 7 he always wore somewhere on his person. Then I could force him to let me take the Mandrake or risk being shot.

I tried to sit up and was surprised and pleased when he allowed me to. I glanced at him and smiled, realizing I’d have to do a convincing job of seducing him. I was hardly the femme fatale type but at that moment, I summoned any acting ability I possessed, hoping to channel Marilyn Monroe, Jean Harlow or, failing them, Madonna in the “Vogue” video.

“Thank you,” I said and my voice was low, sexy if I did say so myself.

Knight eyed me askance.

“I mean, I couldn’t have come off the Mandrake without you,” I finished. I even dropped my head to maintain the illusion of apology.

He sighed before the beginnings of a smile lifted his lips. “I thought you’d give me a bigger run for my money.”

He had no idea I was about to give him the biggest run for his money he’d ever had. He sat up and allowed me the freedom to sit so I sidled up next to him.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I continued.

“You just did.” He laughed, his eyes following me like he was a hawk.

I shook my head. “I mean really thank you.” He glanced at me with a funny expression. “I was worried you were going to arrest me,” I finished.

“I had half a mind to … I still do.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and used it to push myself onto his lap, until I was straddling him.

“What are you doing?” he asked warily.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” I answered and propped his chin up. “I’ve been fighting my feelings for you, Knight,” I started and could honestly say it was the truth. “I’ve talked myself out of wanting you and into thinking you were a bad choice for me.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled it away from his face, his eyes narrowed. “Why is this coming up now?”

“Because you keep protecting me left and right,” I said and ran my finger down the side of his face, surprised by how soft his skin was. “At some point I have to realize you’re a good thing, right?”

“That doesn’t sound like the Dulcie I know.”

Inside I was beginning to panic, wondering if my plan wasn’t going to work. “I just went to hell and back in front of you.”

“I hope you aren’t embarrassed?” he asked and his eyes followed mine as I leaned into him.

“I’m not,” I said and brought my lips to his. His lips were full and when I kissed him, I felt myself getting lost in his taste. I outlined his mouth with my tongue and felt him growing hard against my thigh. I pulled away and glanced down at him.

“I liked that,” he said with a sincere smile.

The need for Mandrake was overwhelming me at this point but I quashed the desire, promising myself that I would have some soon enough. For now, I had Knight right where I wanted him and I couldn’t blow that, not for the world.

“Do you still want me?” I asked as innocently as I could. “I mean, after what we just went through?”

“Want you?” he laughed. “There isn’t a moment where I’m not thinking about you, Dulcie.” His voice petered off as he watched my hands move to the bottom of my tee shirt. “Yes I want you,” he finished.

There was a part of me that suddenly felt guilty that I was doing this—the old me never in a million years would have stooped to this level and the little voice inside my head yelled as much but the Mandrake part of me told that part to shut the hell up.

I was winning—that was all that mattered.

I pulled the tee shirt over my head until I was clad only in my jeans and bra. Knight’s eyes settled on my bust and I smiled, feeling my power grow. He was like mush in my hands.

“Touch me,” I whispered.

He gripped either side of my waist and pulled me into him, until his face was buried in my chest. And then I felt his lips as they kissed the swells of my breasts. I reached around and unclasped my bra, sliding it down my arms as Knight pulled away, watching me.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered and grabbed my waist again, forcing one of my nipples into his mouth. I moaned out as soon as I felt his tongue and a deep throbbing started within me. I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t acting anymore—the bliss ricocheting through me was as real as it was going to get.

I had to fight to keep control of myself.

“Take your shirt off,” I demanded, wanting to know where his Op 7 was. Focus on the gun and I could control my wayward sexual desires.

He wasted no time in pulling off his shirt and before the beauty of his naked chest could entice me, I caught a glimpse of the holster around his waist. Today was my lucky day.

“Lie back,” I said, and as soon as he did so, I leaned down and trailed his chest with my breasts, feeling the tickle of his chest hair against my nipples. I found his lips again and kissed them. His hands splayed across my backside until he found my ass and spanned each cheek with his palms, pushing me into his hard shaft. I could feel the edge of his Op 7 as it bit into my hip. I needed to get his hands out of the way, so I could grab the gun without interception.

I pushed his hands above his head, sitting up as I hovered over him. I kissed up and down his biceps, my breasts dangling in his face. He groaned and tried to catch them in his mouth to which I laughed, creating the perfect distraction for what I had to do next. I held each of his wrists in one hand and started back down his body, kissing and touching as I did so. My right hand was now inches from the Op 7.

I continued trailing my fingers down his body and stopped at his zipper. I toyed with the button of his pants and then trailed my fingers to the side, teasing him. Once I was a barely a breath away from the Op 7, I could imagine the feel of the cold steel against my palm. It was now or never. I must have made it a fraction of an inch closer to the gun before I found myself flat on my back, Knight atop me.

He laughed acidly as he glanced down at me. “Did you really think I wasn’t on to you?”

“So you just played into the game the whole time?” I shrieked at him and realizing he’d bested me, erupted into a fit of tears.

He shrugged and his expression was hard. “I figured I’d enjoy it while I could.”

“You bastard!” I screamed.

“Where is the Mandrake?” he demanded and his voice was deadly, warning me not to argue with him.

“There isn’t any left,” I lied.

He stood up and gripped my wrist, forcing me up beside him. Then he pushed me toward my bedroom.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Dulcie, where the hell is the Mandrake?”

“And I’m going to tell you one more time that there isn’t any left!” I screamed at him.

He gritted his teeth and threw open the bedroom door, slamming it behind us. He pushed me against the bed and climbed on top of me, his eyes issuing a warning of their own.

“This is your last chance. Tell me where the Mandrake is or I’m going to cart your ass down to Headquarters and let the Netherworld deal with you,” he ordered and added, “and how the hell will you help Sam in jail?”

I swallowed hard. There was no way I wanted to admit where the Mandrake was but there was also no way I was going to let him get me locked away where I’d have no access to Mandrake and even less access to Sam. Damn, the bastard had won.

“Why won’t you believe me?” I insisted.

“Because every time you tell me there isn’t any left, you blink repeatedly which means you’re lying.”

Then a feeling of absolute despondency and panic shot through me. “Please don’t take it from me, Knight.”

“Where is it?” he demanded again.

“If I tell you, what are you going to do with it?”

He smiled but there was nothing sweet about it. It was the grin of a hunter which made me the prey. “If you tell me where it is, I’ll give you the option of whether you want to clean yourself up and be the law enforcement agent I know you are or whether you want to stay addicted to Mandrake.”

It couldn’t have been more perfect. He was going to let me make the choice. As far as I was concerned, the choice was already made.

“It’s in my top drawer, buried in the back.”

I didn’t even have the chance to feel any sort of mortification as Knight approached my dresser, pulled open the drawer and started plowing through my panties and bras. All that mattered was the sweet release the Mandrake promised soon enough. He grasped the small vial and rather than approaching me, neared the bathroom so I followed him. He propped the toilet seat up and yanked on the cork of the Mandrake so hard, it crumbled in his hand.

“You son of a bitch!” I seethed.

I leapt for him as soon as I realized what he intended to do and was in the process of doing already. He held me off with one arm and dumped the reminder of the Mandrake into the toilet. The bubbles fizzled and popped as they met the water and he flushed them down.

I slammed my fists into his chest, screaming curse words even I couldn’t make out. He grabbed my arms and forced me out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom, depositing me on my bed. But I was up and out of his reach before he could say “boo.”

“It was for your own good,” he yelled back at me. “You’ll thank me once you come out of this.”

I wanted to clobber him, to slam his head into the wall. I started to wonder where these violent feelings were coming from but, sensing my chance, I wiggled out of his hold. I beelined for the door but he caught my arm and yanked me back into the room.

“I hate you!” I yelled and collapsed against my bed as sobs wracked my body.

“You’re lucky I don’t just cart your ass into Headquarters now and lock you up.”

“I wish you would,” I spat it back in his face. “Anything to get away from you!”

He grabbed my tee shirt from off the floor, and threw it at me. “Put this on.”

I grabbed the shirt and forced it over my head, covering myself up as humiliation consumed me.

TWELVE

After another two hours, the Mandrake had been cleansed from my body and I felt nothing but exhausted. My emotions ran the gamut from extreme relief over the fact that Knight had seen to it that I was no longer addicted to Mandrake and complete mortification and embarrassment over the fact that I, Dulcie O’Neil, had basically become an addict.

If I’d never understood or been sympathetic toward the plight of the addict before, I felt differently now. It was as if the Mandrake had completely taken over my life—and, really, it had. The idea that I’d nearly seduced Knight just for another fix was something that would live with me for the rest of my life … in infamy.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I started, staring out the window to avoid having to face Knight. He’d just witnessed something I would have been mortified for even Sam to witness. I was such a private person that the fact that I’d gone through something so personal in front of Knight … the thought was enough to make me want to throw up.

“Don’t say anything, Dulcie,” he responded in a soft, compassionate tone.

I felt a lump forming in my throat and I wiped away a few tears. “I’m completely mortified.”

Knight stood up from where he’d been sitting at my kitchen table and approached me. I couldn’t stomach the sympathy in his eyes and turned my back to him again. I shouldn’t have inspired sympathy or pity in other people—that wasn’t who I was. I was Dulcie O’Neil, the badass, hard-as-nails fairy who didn’t put up with anything from anyone. At least, that’s who I used to be and who I wanted to be again. Who I was now, I really didn’t know.

I shivered against the warmth of Knight’s hands on my shoulders. As if I hadn’t berated myself enough, images of me straddling him with my boobs hanging out like a baboon in estrus coursed through me until I wanted to slap myself.

“Dulcie, just remember that everything you did, you did for Sam.”

I shook my head as an acid laugh fell off my lips. “I first took the Mandrake for Sam, yes, but at the end, I took it because I had to, because I couldn’t turn it down.” I glanced down at my small hands which were now fists at my side. “I thought I could defeat it, Knight. I didn’t think I’d get addicted to it—I thought I was stronger than that.”

“Dulcie, you aren’t giving yourself enough credit.”

“Credit?” I repeated facetiously, turning around to face him. “Credit for what?”

“For forcing yourself to do something that runs counter to everything you believe in just so you could save your friend. Yes, you got in over your head but that’s not what you should be focusing on.”

I dropped my eyes, feeling the sting of tears again. I blinked them away. “I think you’re giving me too much latitude.”

He chuckled. “Probably true in most things but not in this case.”

A tear escaped my eye and he wiped it with the pad of his thumb.

“Hey, none of that was you, Dulce, I know it, so why don’t you?”

“I guess I have issues when it comes to failing.”

His smile was wide and my breath caught in my throat. He was so incredibly handsome and I wasn’t sure what to think about this tender and kind side of him—it was a version of Knight that I could very easily lose myself in and that was a scary thought.

“Issues with failing?” he laughed again. “That’s got to be the understatement of the day. I hate to break it to you, Dulce, but you aren’t perfect.”

I glanced up at him and wiped away more tears. “Believe me, I know I’m less than perfect.”

“Well, whatever you are, you’ve got the best intentions of anyone I know,” Knight said in an iron tone, as if challenging me to argue or disagree with him. “And I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you’re an absolute asset to the ANC.”

I couldn’t even stand to listen to him—an asset? When I was addicted to an illegal narcotic? “Knight,” I started and when he glanced down at me, I wasn’t even sure I could get the words out. “I would have had sex with you just to get that next fix of Mandrake.”

He shook his head and raised a brow. “Do you think I would have ever let it go that far?”

“That’s not my point. If you had allowed it to … progress, I would have too,” I finished, apparently hell-bent on lowering his estimation of me.

His lips were tight. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, I do.”

His smile was broader than it had been. “Then, damn me for flushing the shit so fast. I should have waited a little longer.”

I couldn’t help my laugh and shook my head at the absurdity of the whole situation. Of all the people to have witnessed me at my worst, of course it would have been Knight—not Sam; not some random person I couldn’t care less about, but Knight. Sometimes life was a major bitch.

I glanced at him again and chewed my lip, not entirely sure what to make of the fact that I felt indebted to him and grateful. “You know if our roles were reversed, I would have arrested you?”

“Said in true Dulcie O’Neil form,” Knight said and shook his head. “I knew you had to be in there somewhere.”

I didn’t drop my gaze. “I’m being serious.”

“I’m sure you are but we both know you wouldn’t have arrested me. You play a mean game but underneath it all, you have feelings, Dulcie, even if you don’t want to admit them.”

I was spared the need to respond when the doorbell rang, announcing Dia’s arrival. The thought that I could soon be sleeping was like waking up on Christmas morning. Knight dropped his hands from my shoulders and grinned warmly again.

“I don’t want to hear any more about this,” he started. “You need to forgive yourself and move on. I want the old Dulcie back—the one who gives me a crapload of attitude at every turn and makes my life significantly more difficult than it needs to be.”

I wiped my eyes for the last time. “I think I can manage that.” Maybe it was due to the fact that I hadn’t slept in over six days, but I just didn’t feel like me. I felt like I was going through some sort of identity crisis and I didn’t like it one bit.

Knight approached the door and put his hand on the knob, then paused, glancing back at me. “Dia doesn’t know anything about what went on here earlier,” he began. “I didn’t think it was my place to tell her.”

I nodded in silent thanks. Sometimes Knight could be so … nice (for lack of a better word) that it just threw me for a loop—especially when he could be such an ass at other times.

He pulled open the door and Dia walked in, offering him a cheery smile before her complexion blanched as she focused on me. I had an apology to make and based on her expression, I’d better make it quick.

“I’m sorry for ditching you the other day, Dia,” I said and smiled sheepishly. “Can you forgive me?”

She frowned. “Well, I guess I already have considering I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I started before Knight cleared his throat and opened the door further.

“I’m going to let you two get to it. I need to get back to the hospital to keep an eye on things,” he announced and then glanced at me again, his expression softening. “It appears my work here is done.”

I smiled back at him, not sure what to say or where to start. “Thanks,” I said simply.

“Any time, Dulcie, we’re in this together,” he answered, smiling before he left.

I was sad to see him go.

Dia faced me after watching him close the door and she looked amused. “Thought anymore about Tweety?”

I laughed as I considered it—yes, Knight was a cocky, arrogant, bossy pain in my ass most the time but I had to admit that he wasn’t all bad and even though I didn’t want to accept it, I had to face the fact that Knight seemed to genuinely … care about me.

“Yeah, I have,” I said with a thoughtful smile. “I don’t know what to think of Tweety but I’m thinking about him all the same.”

“It’s a start, girl, and thank Hades for that because I thought I’d have to knock some sense into that stubborn head of yours!”

“Hey, I’ve got baggage,” I explained with a laugh.

She arched her brows. “Really? You don’t say?”

“Okay, enough, smartass,” I finished.

“You ready to get some sleep?”

I nodded. “Amen to that.”

***

I sighed as I glanced down at Sam, who didn’t look any worse but also didn’t look any better. Yep, we were definitely in a holding pattern, the Dreamstalker waiting for me to call his bluff and vice versa. Well, if I had it my way, he was going to call my bluff and we’d face off in dreamland.

“She doesn’t look good,” Dia said as she inspected Sam.

“She doesn’t look any worse than she did earlier though.” I said the words more for my own peace of mind.

Dia and I had been summoned to Sam’s room by Knight who had yet to show up. What the meeting was about, neither of us had any idea, although I hoped it had something to do with the fact that our current plan of sitting and waiting was working about as well as BP trying to control an oil leak.

Even though I couldn’t say I felt good by any means, I’d been able to sleep for two hours thanks to Dia and at least I felt sane again—no longer craving illegal narcotics, seeing random babies or lust-craved Lokis. My day was looking up.

“Dia,” I started, knowing this would probably lead to an argument but I was going to broach the subject anyway. I was running out of time.

“Hmm?” she asked and glanced at me before her gaze moved back to Sam. “It’s almost like everything is on pause.”

“How so?” I prodded, wondering if she’d reached the same conclusion I had.

She shook her head. “Sam isn’t any better but isn’t any worse. Meanwhile, Jenny, Travis and Shirley all look decently healthy, albeit in comas, but healthy all the same. Whatever this thing is, he definitely doesn’t understand how Dreamstalkers work.”

“Or he’s fully aware of what he’s doing,” I said, eyeing her to judge her reaction to my cryptic comment.

“Meaning?”

I sighed, long and hard, wondering if it was better just to blurt my possibly outrageous ideas or warm her up to them, one toe into the deep end at a time. Ah, screw it, I’d blurt. “The Dreamstalker is waiting for me, Dia, he’s waiting for me to fall asleep so I can fight him on his ground.”

Dia nodded but didn’t say anything although her silence was response enough. She either thought I was nuts and wanted to refrain from commenting or she was contemplating the idea. Hopefully the latter.

“And I think you know what we have to do,” I continued. “Sitting and waiting is getting us nowhere and pretty soon, he’s going to grow tired of waiting for me and he’s going to do something to Sam, something I will have to live with for the rest of my life and something I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Dia nodded again, her eyes traveling from me to Sam, back to me again. “You know Knight won’t go for it, especially since it would be putting you into a very precarious situation?”

She had a point. Knight wouldn’t go for it and knowing his steel disposition, it would probably take a miracle on 34th street to change his mind. But I hadn’t really bothered myself with the minute details concerning what Knight would or would not approve of. Instead, I focused on Dia. If I could make her see the truth in my reasoning, she could help me work on Knight. And although I wasn’t really sure how she ranked in the ANC hierarchy, I assumed that as acting Chief of ANC Moon, she was high enough up there that her opinion mattered more than a damn.

Before I had the chance to further work on Dia, Knight lumbered into the room, looking like a warrior come to slay a dragon. There was a stiffness to his composure that I hadn’t seen in a long time and with the way he worried the pen in his hand, clearly something big was rampaging through his mind.

I tried not to notice how chiseled his face was as he brought his eyes to mine and studied me for a second or two, seemingly to deduce whether I truly had made it through the Mandrake ordeal successfully. I smiled in response and he just nodded. We’d just had a full conversation without uttering a single word.

“Ladies,” he said in greeting, finally breaking the silence.

“Loki,” Dia answered and winked at me as I laughed.

“I’ve got to make this one quick,” Knight said, his tone and body language back to business. “I’m traveling back to the Netherworld … tonight.”

“What?” I snapped as both Dia’s and my mouths dropped open in perfect unison like choir members. “What the hell for?”

Knight faced me with the same stubborn set to his jaw I’d come to know so well. “The blood lettings in Banshee,” he answered simply as if we’d be satiated with such a ridiculously short response.

“Um, can’t that wait?” Dia asked as she eyed me again, her expression one of concern.

“Knight, in case you don’t remember, we’re kind of in the middle of a major case here,” I added. “One that is bound to break any second …”

“I know that, Dulcie,” he spat out and shook his head, like he was trying to get his temper under control. Hmm, something was up because Knight normally wasn’t this trigger happy. Don’t get me wrong, he was often the King of all SOBs but now wasn’t the time nor the place. “Regardless, I’m leaving tonight.”

I shook my head and sighed, almost wondering if I was having another bout of hallucinations and was just imagining that Knight was actually saying this crap.

“You can’t just leave, Knight,” I started. “What about the blood tests for the suspects? What about the Dreamstalker? Hello? What about Sam?”

He nodded but it was hurried and he even checked his watch as if to exemplify the point. “Wait until I get back.”

“Wait until you get back?” I yelled, feeling myself finally losing it. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Knight, the timing of this trip is very bad,” Dia added as if she were trying to justify my outburst with reason.

Knight ran an agitated hand through his hair before facing us both again. His jaw was just as tight, his expression just as pinched as it had been a few seconds ago. That meant he wasn’t about to give in.

“I know it seems like bad timing but the blood lettings in Banshee are tied to this case,” he finished.

I glanced at Sam, anger bubbling up within me. There was no way in hell I intended to wait for Knight to return from this utterly useless errand when Sam’s life was hanging by a thread. I glanced at him again and hoped the ire oozing from my body reflected itself in my eyes.

“We can focus on Banshee once we get this guy, Knight. There’s no reason for you to go there now.”

“It’s not up for discussion,” he bit out. “Just don’t do anything drastic until I return.” He started to turn for the door but apparently remembered something and glanced back at me again. “That’s an order.”

Yep, just like that, the asshole I’d come to know so well had returned and who the hell knew when the nice Knight would show up again? I had half a mind to dub him Dr. Loki and Mr. Asswad.

I shook my head and stared at the floor. How the hell could he think this was a good idea? Now of all times? It made no sense and seemed to run counter to everything I’d ever thought about Knight. If nothing else, I used to be able to say I respected him as a detective and as an ANC cop, but now I couldn’t even say that.

“And when the hell will you be back?” I demanded.

“A few days.”

Fury bubbled up within me like lava and I thought I might blow right then and there. Dia, apparently sensing my volatility, placed a consoling hand on my arm and faced Knight. “Sam might not have a few days.”

Knight sighed and glanced at the floor. “My hands are tied.”

I turned around, afraid if I looked at him any longer, I’d claw his eyes out. His hands were tied? His hands were tied while my best friend was dying? Well, damn him to Hades—there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to do anything but the drastic. And he wasn’t my boss so he could screw himself.

“This is insane,” I announced angrily.

“I have to get going,” Knight answered and checked his watch again. “I’m due at the portal in fifteen minutes.”

It wasn’t like you could get a flight to the Netherworld, since it existed on the same plane as earth, but in a different dimension. Instead, the Netherworld traveler had to make preparations with the Netherworld ANC and then the ANC would send strata-hopping worm holes, known as dimensional portals, to see the traveler to his destination.

Before I could object, Knight simply turned around and left. I looked at Dia and we were both speechless for a minute or two before a big smile outlined Dia’s mouth.

“Guess we no longer need to worry about getting his buy in?” she asked and threw me for a second.

Once I realized she was referring to my plan to meet the Dreamstalker in his own territory, I smiled. She was on my side.

I glanced at her and couldn’t help but laugh, even though worry, disbelief, anger and confusion all consumed my immediate thoughts. “No, I guess we don’t.”

***

Three hours later, I received a call from Dia who asked me to meet her for dinner in the hospital cafeteria. She’d gone to her hotel room to shower and nap before returning for the evening. I was only too happy to join up with her because I assumed we were going to discuss moving forward by laying out our next plan—that plan being how to kill the Dreamstalker, part two. And as far as I was concerned, whatever Knight didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hi, girl,” Dia said as she entered the cafeteria and plopped her bag into the seat next to me. “What slop are they serving tonight?”

I laughed. “I didn’t check.”

Instead of going to investigate what “food” the hospital was serving, she pulled out the plastic chair next to me and sat down. She took a deep breath and faced me with a wide smile, her dark eyes sparkling.

“I have news for you,” she started.

“Shoot,” I said noncommittally.

She tapped her long fingernails against the cheap plastic table and took a long pause before facing me again. She should have been an actress. “Knight didn’t go back to the Netherworld to check on the Banshee blood lettings.”

My eyes went wide and I felt my heartbeat speed up. “What? How do you know?”

She smiled and pulled out a compact, opening it to check her lipstick. I couldn’t help but admire her plump, pretty lips. She snapped the compact closed and faced me again. “One thing you’ll learn about me as we get to know each other better is that I’m a good cop and the reason is because I’m nosy.”

I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me. “You crack me up, Dia.”

She shrugged. “Well, I am good for a laugh too but back to the point about being nosy—I don’t take people on their word and Knight seemed way too evasive earlier today so I investigated.”

She was right, Knight had seemed too evasive. “So, what, you got in touch with Banshee?”

She nodded before a flirtatious smile lit her lips and I had to wonder if an incredibly hot doctor hadn’t just entered the room. I glanced behind me but didn’t see anyone so I turned back to Dia.

“I, uh, knew one of the guards at Banshee,” she said with a laugh. “And boy was that man a hottie.”

“Moving on,” I said, frowning at the expression of absolute bliss on her face.

She shook her head, as if she were dispelling the images of the hottie and faced me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, couldn’t help remembering the abs on him and his butt …”

“Dia!”

She laughed and held up her hand in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. So I spoke with my contact at Banshee and asked what the deal was with Knight’s visit and he said Knight never showed up. And not only did Knight never show up, he was never scheduled to show up.”

She leaned back in her chair and eyed me as if she was allowing the news to settle in. I gulped as I wondered what the hell Knight was up to and furthermore, why had he lied to us, to me? After all he and I had been through most recently, I didn’t want to admit it to myself but Dia’s news stung. Before I had the chance to inquire further, Dia leaned forward again and broke the silence.

“So I did a bit more researching and called some friends I have in the ANC Netherworld and I found out that Knight was called back to the High Court for questioning.”

“Oh my God,” I started, realizing how bad that could be. The High Court was the determining law of the Netherworld—if you were a Netherworld creature and screwed up royally in the US, you ended up in the High Court where they would pronounce your punishment and they definitely weren’t known for being easygoing. No wonder Knight had seemed so perturbed and anxious.

“What the hell would Knight be investigated for?” I asked, my stomach still somewhere down around my toes.

Dia nodded, apparently she had all the answers. “One of my very good friends happens to be the stenographer for the High Court,” she began. “And Knight’s case began this afternoon, an hour or so after he left the hospital.” Dia took a deep breath. “Well, my stenographer friend told me that Knight was being investigated regarding a case with the former head of ANC Splendor, Quillan Beauregard.”

“Oh my God,” I repeated again, not knowing what else to say, and slumped back into my seat. This was terrible. Worse than terrible.

“Apparently Quillan was involved in some underhanded dealings regarding street potions and during the initial examination, he was never apprehended,” Dia finished.

I knew the story all too well. “I was there,” I said simply, as if to announce the fact that I knew exactly what had happened that evening and didn’t want a reminder.

“I know,” Dia responded and I glanced at her in surprise. “I wasn’t done with my story.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“So my friend told me that Judge Churchill was pretty upset with Knight because he was supposed to show up with you, Dulcie.”

I felt the contents of my stomach rise up to my throat. “What?”

“Apparently it was you they wanted for questioning but Knight went in your stead and demanded that you had nothing to do with the situation which is why you hadn’t come with him.”

I wanted to throw up again. Knight had covered for me—he’d known full well that it had been my fault when Quill escaped. The awful image of that evening sliced through my head like a shard of glass, the memories already replaying themselves—me realizing Quill had been allied with the bad guys all along; how I’d aimed my Op 6 at him but hadn’t been able to pull the trigger; how my heart had ached over the fact that I hadn’t been able to take him into custody and more so, over the fact that one of my closest friends had betrayed me.

I shook the vision from my head. I’d basically let Quillan go and Knight had known that all along. Knight had lied to the High Court to protect me.

“What … what happened to Knight; what was the verdict?” I insisted, my voice sounding as distraught as I felt.

Dia shrugged. “Don’t know. The case isn’t over yet.”

I pounded my fist into the table and swore.

“Dulcie,” Dia said, an expression of worry on her face.

“Do you know anything more about it?” I interrupted.

She shook her head. “I only know that Knight swore up and down that you had nothing to do with Quillan’s disappearance. That it was on his watch and he failed in his duties.”

I swallowed hard and didn’t say anything more. Dia glanced at me and her lips were tight.

“And if he’s lying,” she started with a tone of skepticism in her voice, “he could face life in Banshee.”

“Why … why didn’t he tell me?” I persisted, as the realization that I might have ruined Knight’s life crashed and burned within me.

“Obviously he wanted to protect you,” Dia finished before standing up. “That’s all I know.”

I glanced up at her and nodded, dropping my attention back to my shaking hands.

“Now, you and I need to eat and figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this Dreamstalker,” she said but I couldn’t really say I’d processed her words. I was still completely floored by the news about Knight.

I vowed that once the Dreamstalker was dead, my next stop would be the Netherworld. I wasn’t going to let Knight suffer for my shortcomings.

THIRTEEN

An hour later, I’d made the rounds among my comatose patients and was now back in Sam’s room. I pulled Sam’s head forward and fluffed her pillow, being careful to lay her neck and head back down. A stray hair stuck to her lip so I secured it behind her ear, feeling like a mother tending to her sick child. As far as Sam’s health was concerned, there was still nothing new. No attacks from the Dreamstalker … yet.

Dia paced back and forth in front of me as we laid out our plans. And luckily for me (or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it), Dia had finally come around to my way of thinking—that we needed to take the Dreamstalker on in dream territory rather than continue sitting and waiting and basically, doing nothing. In preparation, we added another cot beside Sam’s, the empty cot for me—for when I met the Dreamstalker in the land of dreams.

“When do you want to attempt this?” Dia asked, casting me a worried glance. By “attempt this,” she meant when did I want to go to sleep so the Dreamstalker could attack me.

“Tonight,” I answered and my voice was surprisingly level, calm. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“I’ll need to act as sentry for you, Dulcie,” she continued as she chewed her bottom lip and started her fifth stroll across Sam’s room. “I’m not going to let you sleep with no one to protect you.”

I shook my head—this was one argument on which I wouldn’t yield. “You’ll need to continue searching the hospital and the grounds, Dia,” I argued. “If the Dreamstalker … I mean, when the Dreamstalker comes for me, that will mean he’ll have to be close by. We can’t afford to have you worrying about me when you could be focused on nabbing this guy.”

“Do you have a death wish?” she demanded, facing me with her hands on her hips. It suddenly made sense why some of her friends called her Diva—she was a force to be reckoned with, for sure. I liked Dia—she took girl power to a whole new level. “If you’re asleep and I’m not there to protect you,” she continued, “whatever this thing is could take you out and no one would ever know it.”

I had to smile at her histrionics but the smile left my mouth as soon as I remembered the peril I was about to throw myself into. “No, I don’t have a death wish and I’m considering this from every angle. I need you to be out there on the frontlines, Dia, not babysitting me.” I glanced down at Sam again before returning my gaze to Dia. “I can handle myself.”

Dia glared at me, her hands still resting on her hips. “And you do realize that if we do it your way and something happens to you, I’m going to have to deal with Knight?”

Ah, yes, the little problem known as Knight. “We’re both going to have to deal with Knight, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

“You won’t have to deal with him if you’re dead,” she snapped and started on her next lap across Sam’s room. “And if you’re dead, that means I’m going to have to face him alone.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how casually she referred to my death—almost like it was a given. “Are you afraid of Knight … Diva?” I asked, challenging her.

She stopped pacing and glanced over at me before a smile brightened her lips. “With the way you’re able to get what you want from Knight and me, you should have been a lawyer,” she started. “And to answer your question, yes, Knight is sexy as sin, but intimidating all the same. I really don’t want to be at the receiving end of that temper, not to mention the fact that he’s very high up in the Netherworld ANC.” She began pacing again. “This could be a career-limiting move.”

“Buck up,” I said. “You’re the head of ANC Moon, you can deal with a Loki.”

She shook her head again. “Dealing with an enraged Loki aside, I’m not going to leave you alone with the Dreamstalker, Dulcie.”

Obviously my skills of persuasion needed some work. So much for being a lawyer. “Dia, do you really think the Dreamstalker is going to come anywhere near me if he senses you’re protecting me in my sleep? It sort of defeats the whole purpose.”

She was silent and I realized I had a good argument.

“No,” I continued. “We have to set this up as if it were real—that I’m here watching over Sam and not able to deal with the lack of sleep any longer, so I succumb. End of story.” I paused and glanced at her. “And you don’t enter into that equation.”

“Well, Miz I’ve got it all figured out,” she started, hands on hips again, about as Diva as she could get. “How do you propose I catch the Dreamstalker if I can’t sense him? Or had you forgotten about that little detail?”

I smiled sweetly. “Didn’t you tell me you were an amazing cop earlier today at lunch?”

She shook her head and laughed but it was a strained sound. “Oh, you’re good, girl, too good.”

I wasn’t as good as I would have hoped because a few minutes later, we’d reached a decision and it was a compromise to say the least. If there was one thing I hated, it was a compromise because, really, neither side got what they wanted. Our compromise entailed Dia stationing her best ANC person in Sam’s room and keeping an eye on me once I fell asleep. Meanwhile, Dia would scout the hospital, searching for any sign of the Dreamstalker. At the first sign of struggle from my sleeping body, my sitter would alert Dia and she’d invade my dreams, forcing me to wake up.

While this might have sounded good in theory, what it boiled down to was the fact that I would have no chance to defeat the Dreamstalker because Dia would be there at the first instance of me tossing and turning. And I assumed that as soon as my sleeping body came into contact with the Dreamstalker, I’d somehow reveal it by a sound or clenched eyes, or something else. I could wind up meeting the Dreamstalker and never having the chance to tell him off at the very least. I’d be awake with nothing gained. And to make matters worse, the Dreamstalker would know Dia was involved and who knew in how many ways that would blow our cover.

But no matter, in true Dulcie O’Neil form, I already had a plan to foil this little problem without Dia being any the wiser.

“So we start tonight,” Dia asked but before I had the chance to answer, my cell phone rang. I glanced down to see who was calling but the screen was blank—like the phone couldn’t even register the call, probably denoting long distance.

“Gimme a second,” I said, glancing at Dia as I brought the phone to my ear. “Dulcie O’Neil.”

“It’s me.” It was Knight.

I felt my stomach drop and leaned a hand against the wall to support myself. “Knight? Where are you?” I asked, wondering if he was already back from the Netherworld.

“I’m at Banshee,” he answered and the lie pierced me like a dull blade.

“Bullshit,” I started. “I know you aren’t at Banshee so drop the charade.”

I chanced a glance at Dia who looked entirely too interested in the conversation so I started for the hall, in search of a little privacy.

“How?”

“Why did you lie to me?” I insisted and perched myself on a window sill at the far end of the corridor.

“What …”

“I know where you are, Knight, you were brought in for questioning to the High Court.”

He was quiet for a second. “How did you find out?”

“Dia,” I answered before it occurred to me that maybe she wouldn’t have wanted him to know she’d blown the lid off his lie. Oh, well, damage done. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I can’t talk about that right now, Dulcie,” he said and his tone was all business.

I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to tell me anything more. The ANC could have tapped the phone lines and probably had. “Just tell me you’re alright,” I said in a soft voice.

He breathed out a long breath. “I’m fine.”

“Are you going to continue to be fine?”

He was silent for a few seconds. “I don’t know.”

“Knight,” I started, not even knowing what I wanted to say, there were so many emotions pounding through me.

“I can’t talk now, Dulcie,” he said and cut me off. “I was just calling to make sure you aren’t going to do anything stupid.”

Ah, here it came. “Knight …”

“Dulcie, promise me. Wait until I get back.”

But I couldn’t promise him anything. Not when Dia and I had already made plans to go after the Dreamstalker this evening. And like I’d mentioned earlier, I hated to lie … well, when I wasn’t on Mandrake anyway. “I can’t promise, Knight.”

“Dulcie, I know what you’re going to try to do and like I said before, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

But regardless of what he thought or said, I was steadfast. “I won’t let Sam die, Knight.”

“But you’ll let yourself die?” he asked and his voice was as sharp as barbed wire.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I answered truthfully.

“Dulcie, I’ll be out of here in another day. They expedited my case and I was able to go first.” He breathed out a sigh of pent-up frustration. “If I’ve never asked you for a favor before, I’m asking for one now. Don’t do anything until I get back.”

I swallowed hard. “If the Dreamstalker goes after Sam …”

“Please, Dulcie.”

I tried to relax my jaw once I realized I was clenching my teeth. “By the sound of it, you still want me to wait for you, even if this thing attacks Sam?” I asked icily.

He paused and his silence spoke volumes. I knew the answer to my question before he even offered it. “I’m sorry but you mean more to me than Sam does.”

Well, Sam meant more to me than anyone else did and she was the only family I had, even if she wasn’t related to me. “If something happens to Sam, Knight, I’m going to do what I have to do.”

“Sam can hold on for another day or so.”

“You don’t know that and furthermore, you don’t know that you’ll be back in a day.”

“No, I don’t, but if I had to guess …”

“It would still be a guess,” I interrupted.

“Dulcie, please.” Knight had never begged for anything and the desperation in his tone gave me cause for pause.

The more I thought about it, I wondered if maybe we could put it off for another night or so. I mean, if I were to go to sleep now, who was to say the Dreamstalker would even know it? What it came down to was the fact that I had to try it my way—meaning I couldn’t promise Knight anything, not when Sam’s life was at stake.

“Knight, I can’t …”

“Dulcie!” Dia screamed.

I felt my heart drop as I pushed off from the window sill and landed on the floor. My body went into autopilot and I started running as quickly as I could for Sam’s room. Dia came tearing out of the room and there was panic on her face.

“What?!” I yelled. “What the hell happened?”

“The Dreamstalker!” Dia answered and grabbed my arm, both of us hurrying for Sam’s room. “He’s here!”

“Dulcie!” Knight yelled into the phone. I hadn’t realized I still had the phone up to my ear. Everything had happened so quickly and yet even as I was in the situation and responding, I felt like I was in a dream; like I was watching it from afar and everything was in slow motion.

“Knight, I have to go,” I said, not recognizing my own voice.

“Dulcie,” Knight’s voice broke. “Dulcie, don’t do anything …”

I accidentally dropped the phone, causing it to shatter, the battery sliding across the floor and coming to rest underneath the empty cot. A few seconds later, Dia’s phone started ringing but I couldn’t say I really processed it and based on the fact that Dia was staring down at Sam in horror, she didn’t either.

Looking at Dia’s expression, I was afraid to glance down to witness whatever was happening to my best friend. But I had to. When I forced my eyes to Sam’s face, my heart constricted as rage built within me.

She was sweating profusely and her lips were completely white—pressed tightly together as tears bled from her eyes. A spasm rocked her body and I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the tears tickling my cheeks as they fell.

The Dreamstalker had called my bluff.

I was ready to meet him.

“Now, it has to be now,” I said and glanced at Dia who nodded before bolting for the door.

“I have to get someone to watch over you,” she yelled behind her.

I climbed atop the empty cot and looked at Sam one last time. “I’m coming, Sam,” I whispered. “Just hold the fuck on.”

Before Dia could return to witness what I was up to, I shook my fist until a mound of fairy dust materialized and clenched it tightly, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of the opalescent particles in my hand. Luckily for me and my plan, the man who would keep watch over me arrived before Dia did and once he stepped into the room, I called him over.

As soon as he leaned down, I threw the fairy dust into his face and imagined his mind a blank canvas, ready for my command. He flinched and tried to free his eyes and mouth of the dust at first but once the words left my mouth, he stopped fighting and merely stared back at me.

“When Dia leaves this room, you are going to fall into a deep sleep and will not wake up until either I tell you to wake up or …”I could barely finish the sentence. I took a deep breath. “Or I die.”

The man just nodded and stepped away from my cot, standing against the wall like a Beefeater outside Buckingham Palace. I had one shot to take the Dreamstalker down and I wasn’t about to take the chance of having this guy alert Dia if I started to look restless.

Dia came racing back into Sam’s room and her attention fell on me. She glanced at the man in the corner and I could see the relief in her eyes. Little did she know her assigned watcher was useless.

“I’m going to need your help,” I said, looking up at her. “There’s no way I can fall asleep on my own. Not with all this adrenaline pumping through me,” I added.

She looked down at me before focusing on Sam again. She winced and I didn’t want to look at Sam to figure out why.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes, do it now.”

“Close your eyes and try to imagine your mind emptying out until there isn’t anything to focus on,” she said and I closed my eyes until all I could see was the beauty of darkness.

Dia grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. I wasn’t sure if she needed to in order to help me fall asleep or if she just did it for moral support. Either way, I needed and appreciated the gesture and squeezed back.

Then I focused on infinity as hard as I could, feeling myself swimming in the pitch blackness before me.

***

I was in a cave.

I glanced up at the ceiling which suspended stalactites and mineral deposits. As soon as I glanced up, a drop of water plopped against my forehead, followed by one after another. The smell of stagnant water permeated the air, mildewy and dank. I shivered in the darkness and had to wonder how I was able to see anything within the cave because in my mind’s eye it was pitch black. I felt another drop of water but this time it landed on the top of my head because I was glancing down at myself. Somehow in the darkness, I was able to discover that I was wearing next to nothing—short white shorts and a bright pink tube top. My feet were bare.

And that was when I realized I was dreaming because there was no way in hell Dulcie O’Neil would ever wear pink or a tube top.

Ha, not on your life.

“You’re asleep,” I told myself, suddenly feeling like there was something I had to remember but couldn’t. Yes, there was something important—something I’d been focused on for what felt like days or maybe even years. It was something I once knew or I’d written down. And I needed this information to break through the illusion of this dreamscape.

Illusion of this dreamscape … the words rang through me until I no longer pictured the cave around me from my own point of view. I was suddenly projected outside myself looking in—merely watching a woman as she stood in the cave and tried to make sense of the situation around her. And that was when I realized the sleeping me had taken over.

I was in a dream but I’d just harnessed it; I’d taken control.

The woman in the pink tube top glanced around the cave again and the realization that this wasn’t my manifestation occurred to me. Someone else had created this landscape. The fleeting thought that I could change the reality around me floated through my cloudy mind and it took me a second or two to completely register the thought as true. Just as quickly as the thought entered, the next one was swiftly behind it—the feeling that I shouldn’t change the dreamscape—no, I needed to hide my powers. I needed to project the image of a vulnerable woman trapped and completely helpless.

I watched the woman take a precarious step forward and nearly lose her footing on the uneven terrain of the cave floor. She stabilized herself against the wall and the sounds of metal clanking against chain were suddenly thick in my ears. She glanced up, just as manacles materialized from the rock wall, growing like weeds on fast forward as they reached out and clasped the woman’s wrists, pulling her arms away from her body. Seeming to rewind, they retracted themselves back into the wall, pinning her arms.

I could feel the cold metal around my wrists and had to force my heartbeat to relax, imagining myself slowing my breathing. The woman suddenly inhaled deeply, breathing in for a count of three and breathing out for a count of three as my heartbeat decelerated.

The chill of cold metal against my ankles caused me to glance down and I found my feet secured against the rock wall, the wall jutting into my back painfully.

Then, I was outside of myself again, looking in on the image of the woman in the cave. There was fear in her eyes as she attempted to free herself from the manacles but her fight was pointless. As she struggled, she pushed her long gold hair out of the way and I caught the image of pointed ears.

If I hadn’t realized before that the woman was me, I realized it now. Apparently the dream me was a little slow.

“Dulcie O’Neil.”

The voice was deep but I couldn’t focus on it long enough to wonder if I recognized it or not. It was as if the cave were speaking to me, the voice bouncing through the depths of the cavern, reverberating into infinity.

“Who the hell are you?” the woman demanded, with a clenched jaw and emerald green eyes that blazed with anger and hatred.

“You took your sweet fucking time to get here,” the voice continued, frightening in its body-less void. “You kept me waiting too long.”

But the woman didn’t seem to care. Instead, she tried to make out his features in the darkness but the task was impossible. It was as if he were made up of the air around him, shadowy and dark. He was merely an outline.

“Show yourself,” she insisted but was met with nothing but the darkness of the cave. Her head turned from left to right as she tried to find any hint of the shadow man, her eyes wide with fear and anxiety.

“You’re nothing but a coward,” she spat out and pulled against her manacles again.

There wasn’t any response but a cold wind whipped through the cave, building in intensity as it gusted past the empty walls, moaning like the cries of ghosts coming from deep within the cave’s inner sanctum.

“Show yourself, you fucking coward,” the woman yelled again.

Suddenly the outline of a man was before me, delineated more finely than the shadow man, but still, his face and body were like black smoke, opaque where his eyes, nose and mouth should have been. Nothing about the specter hinted to his identity. I felt myself flinch, felt my heartbeat start erratically—as if it was pumping too much blood. The sudden thought that I had to get out of my head and back into playing the part of spectator met me. I fought against the roar of blood pounding in my ears and tried to bring the image of the woman back to my mind’s eye. When her image met me, it was translucent but it needed to be concrete, three-dimensional enough that I could reach out and touch her skin.

I clenched my eyes tight and forced my mind to detail the image of the woman, until I could make out the folds in her shorts, the drape of her eyelashes against her cheeks. I had her fully in my mind’s eye again.

“You call that showing yourself?” she snarled at the shadow and spat at him in disgust.

“You want to know who I am, bitch?” the shadow demanded.

“Are you deaf?”

The shadow laughed a thick and ugly sound. It ricocheted through the cave, echoing into a thousand repetitions until I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears. But I couldn’t—my hands were still firmly secured against the cave wall.

“How about a few hints first?” the entity asked but didn’t wait for a response. “Six years ago you got me locked up in Banshee.”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” the woman scoffed. “I’ve sent a lot of criminals to Banshee, you dumb shit.”

The entity was suddenly up in my face, its hand wrapped around my throat, tightening its hold. I couldn’t breathe and felt myself flailing against him.

Focus on her, I told myself.

Picturing the woman, she was suddenly before me, the shadow man’s hand wrapped around her throat as he leaned into her.

“Domestic violence,” the shadow started. “Beat the shit out of my stupid girlfriend. The next thing I knew, this pretty little fairy with her long gold hair was in my face, threatening to shoot me if I didn’t cooperate.”

And suddenly I remembered. I remembered it as if it were yesterday. Images of another time, years ago came pouring into my head like jumbled film reels.

The bastard attacked his girlfriend, yes, on the basis that she’d argued with him. He beat her up so badly, she ended up in Splendor Hospital for weeks. I wasn’t even sure she was going to make it through the ordeal. But she was a Swan Maiden which meant she could take the form of the swan and, when she did, the swan helped heal her injuries. Had she been any other creature, aside from a vamp, she wouldn’t have survived. After I visited her countless times, urging her to tell me who did this to her, she finally squealed and I went after the bastard.

I called for backup as I left for her boyfriend’s house which was in the middle of the projects of Splendor, in a seedy little dump known as The End Of The Road which was fitting because it was located at the end of the town limits of Splendor, situated at the base of a large mountain. But even the beauty of Mount Magnus couldn’t detract from the filth of The End Of The Road. Trash lined the dirt streets and the craggy outlines of burned-out trees with only crows as tenants gave the place a haunted, doleful feel, as if Nature had given up on the hellhole.

The arrest, itself, wasn’t difficult. I merely knocked on the ramshackle door and as soon as the bastard answered, I went into detached cop mode although I wanted to pound his face in. The smell of dog was thick in my nose which meant he was a were. Wolf or not, he was a sadistic son of a bitch, needing to feel like a big man so he beat up his swan girlfriend. It was doubly bad because Swan Maidens were known for being nothing but placid, beautiful and elegant in their subservience. Needless-to-say, I hadn’t believed his excuse that she’d argued with him—swans didn’t argue, they just didn’t have it in them.

I detested men like him and it was all I’d been able to do to keep my temper in control. Even though it might have been hard to believe, my temper had actually cooled over the years. Back then, I was a firecracker and just about anything could and did set me off.

“Are you Osric Cassius?” I asked and my voice was cool but calm.

“Yeah,” he answered and scoffed down at me, like I was anything but a threat. He was sorely mistaken. “Are you here to ride me in your hot little cop outfit, slut?” he snickered and eyed me up and down until I wanted to vomit right then and there.

“No, you asshole,” I started, feeling my famous temper rising within me. “I’m here to arrest your pathetic ass for putting your girlfriend in the hospital.”

It wasn’t traditional cop lingo but I was new back then and not exactly traditional. Quillan had worked with me over the years on my temper and I’d come a long way.

Osric laughed and lunged at me. I pulled my Op 6 out and before he knew what to think, he was staring down at the gun, probably wondering if I was trigger happy and hoping the answer was no.

Like I mentioned earlier, the arrest hadn’t been difficult, Quill had arrived moments later and we’d thrown Osric into Splendor’s holding cells before the Netherworld had sent for him and days later, he’d ended up in Banshee.

Apparently, he’d been released.

Lucky me.

FOURTEEN

“Osric Cassius,” the woman in the pink tube top muttered to the shadow that loomed before her.

“Ding ding, right answer, bitch,” the shade seethed back, undulating as if the sound of his name on her tongue sent him into a state of ire.

“So now that I know who you are, why won’t you show yourself?” she continued, her voice icy cold. “If I remember correctly, you’re an ugly son of a bitch.”

The shade seemed to shake himself—at least that’s how it appeared with the way the black smoke within the outline of the man began to shimmy this way and that. The sound of roaring wind blew through the cave although I could feel nothing but stagnant air against my skin. After another few seconds, Osric Cassius stood before me and he didn’t look happy.

It was as if I’d traveled back to that night when I’d stood on his doorstep and taken him into custody. He was just as thick and stocky as I remembered, though the time he’d spent in Banshee hadn’t been good to him. Tattoos traveled up his arms and legs and covered the right side of his face. His long, wiry brown hair splayed in shambles around his shoulders, greyed with time. But his face captured my attention—the rage in his eyes and the permanent sneer on his lips.

He hated me; that was as crystal clear as the savage glint in his eyes.

“Dulcie O’Neil, we meet again and this time it’s on my terms,” he started with a smile that revealed a mouthful of chipped, yellow teeth.

“You aren’t a Dreamstalker.” The voice was my own but hearing it confused me for a moment or two as I had to fight to retain the distance between my sleeping self and my projected self in the dream. “You’re a were.”

“So you remember me?” he asked and there was a tone of hopefulness to his voice, hopefulness that somehow he was still outlined in my memory—that he stood out from all the other criminals I’d busted and locked away.

The woman nodded and although I planned to focus on questions to ask this bastard; it was like someone had suddenly turned on a fan in my head because all my questions began lifting in the air, spinning around the walls of my mind like a cyclone. I shook the visual away and concentrated, searching for the answers I needed from him.

“You’ve been drinking Dreamstalker blood, where did you get it?” I thought the words in my mind and the woman in the dreamscape spoke them. I was getting better at separating myself from the dream me. I didn’t know why, but I felt that was a good thing.

“What does it matter?” He laughed snidely before bringing his finger to the woman’s nose and tapping for a count of three as he repeated: “You are dead.”

“Dead?” she repeated, trying to continue her ruse of playing dumb, to throw him off the fact that she knew she wasn’t dead, only sleeping.

He nodded. “Right now, you’re living on borrowed time.”

I gulped, I couldn’t help it. But I had a job to do and so far I was doing a damned good job of it—maintaining the illusion that he was in control, that I wasn’t aware I was dreaming and in having that control, wasn’t aware I could use my magic.

“Humor me,” the woman said.

“Dreamstalker blood is all over the streets of Splendor,” he spat out and took two steps closer, glancing down at her body as he did so. The look of lust oozed from his eyes. “And there’s other creatures’ blood out there too,” he finished, his eyes concentrated on her bust.

The feeling that I had to keep him talking rammed into me but I wasn’t sure why. It was like I was buying time, but to what end, I had no idea.

“How did you find all your victims? All the people who were close to me or tied to me?” she asked.

His mouth lit up with an ugly smile before it morphed into a mere fuming white line across his face. “I had six long years in Banshee and I spent every second of my time scheming about the day I would meet up again with Dulcie O’Neil.” He wrapped his hands around the woman’s throat and smiled again. “How I would kill her with my bare hands.”

“I didn’t ask about your sentence,” she interrupted. He dropped his hands from around her throat as I breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Answer my question.”

His jaw clenched and he bashed his fist into the side of the cave, causing rocks and debris to crumble to the ground. When he pulled his hand away, there was no blood or injury, which I guessed made sense since this dreamscape was his creation.

The woman flinched and I felt the same reaction in my own body.

“It wasn’t hard to find out about you—pay the guards and they give information,” Osric answered in a non-committed sort of way, like he hadn’t spent years trying to garner the facts about me.

The woman’s eyes went wide and I could feel her shock, my own. “You pulled my ANC file?”

He nodded, his disheveled hair obscuring half his ugly face before he pushed it back. “And I searched the Internet. Your information was out there, easy to get.” He snickered. “And it wasn’t like I didn’t have all the fucking time in the world to get it.”

I swallowed hard, realizing the corruption of the ANC wasn’t just limited to Quillan duping us all at Splendor Headquarters but, from the sound of it, Banshee had its own problems. I could only wonder how much higher up it went. That was, if I survived this whole ordeal.

Osric stepped away from the woman and ran a mitt-like hand through his hair as he walked toward the mouth of the cave and back again, as if his thoughts were racing with such intensity, he wasn’t sure what to say next and needed to pace just to expend some energy.

Before I could blink, his face was suddenly up close and personal with mine and his eyes radiated a deep, red luminosity, glowing with the fires of hatred.

“You destroyed my life, bitch! You sent me to Banshee for six fucking years and the guards had a field day with me. They beat the shit out of me on a daily basis but it was worse at night.” I could smell the decay on his breath and it was the smell of death. He brought his face so close to mine that I could feel the scruff of his unshaven face against my cheek.

“At night the guards and some of the inmates used me as their woman.”

Shock waged through me, from my head to my toes and I cringed, I couldn’t help it. I had no idea what Banshee was like—I’d never been to the Netherworld, but his story actually made me start to sympathize with him, and feel pity for him. I closed my eyes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” he ordered and gripped the woman’s chin, yanking her head up at an unnatural angle until she had no choice but to look at him. “Now I’m going to do to you what was done to me, day … and night.”

And just like that, my former sympathy was washed right out of me and replaced with vehemence and ferocity. There was no way in hell I was going to let this disgusting bastard anywhere near my body. Before I could respond, his fist connected with my gut and I felt myself capsize as pain reverberated up my stomach, and culminated in an undulating throb in my head. I couldn’t breathe, and felt like I needed to collapse against the floor but the manacles kept me in place, searing my wrists as I lurched forward.

Osric grasped a fistful of my hair and pulled me up, pushing me against the cave wall. His face was in mine again, his breath assaulting my sense of smell until I wanted to pass out. “You can bet your ass that swan bitch of mine is dead—she was the first one I looked up once I was released.”

I gulped. The Swan Maiden was dead. I could only hope she hadn’t suffered but seeing the cruel look in his eyes, I had to imagine she had.

And I was next.

Osric held his hand out and I watched in horror as the ends of his fingers began growing translucent, a dull grey filling in as the flesh disappeared. He flexed and closed his hands as steel sprouted from his fingertips, elongating into nasty blades. He laughed as my eyes went wide.

You’re in a dream, I screamed to myself. None of this is real.

I had to beat the fear, to pull myself from thinking that I was actually experiencing this and to recognize it for what it was—fake, counterfeit, imitation—nothing but a sham.

My eyes slammed shut and when I opened them, I was the outsider looking in, the voyeur to the woman in the pink tube top. I breathed a pent-up sigh of relief. I was still in control.

“Nice, Osric Scissorhands,” the woman laughed in a biting tone. “Looking for some hedges to trim?”

Osric’s face blanched and seconds later, he was fuming—turning as red as a Huber Demon.

“You think it’s funny now, Dulcie, but how funny is this?”

When Osric rammed his finger blades into the woman’s arm, shredding her flesh, it was only a numbness I felt—not the true feelings of pain that the visual would have warranted. The woman screamed out and fell forward again but Osric held her up with a deep, sardonic laugh. He stabbed his finger blades into each of her thighs, ripping the blades in and out again as the gold of her blood dripped down the dull steel, staining the cave floor below. She cried out in agony but I only felt a fraction of her pain.

Suddenly, the manacles around my wrists disappeared and I wondered if my own subconscious had issued the command or had Osric seen to it? He watched the manacles break away without surprise so I could only imagine he’d been the release mechanism. And that was a good thing—I didn’t like the idea of orders issued without my being aware of them.

The woman fell to the ground, landing in a pool of her own blood. There was a horrible smacking sound as her head hit the dirt and she just lay there for a minute or two while Osric stared down at her, smiling at his conquest.

He lifted his leg and landed a well-placed kick into her midsection. She doubled over and grasped her stomach, her eyes wrenched tight with the pain.

How the fuck much longer am I going to put up with this? I demanded as the pain began to sink into me, becoming ever clearer and more pronounced in its throbbing.

I’ve had enough, I answered my own question.

The woman was huddled over on top of herself, both her hands hidden from view. Glancing up, she made sure Osric wasn’t paying attention and smiled as she realized his gaze was wholly riveted on her ass. She shook one of her hands only slightly, but it was enough to create the fairy dust in her palm that would serve up some payback. Once the particles appeared, she released her fist, the particles falling to the ground below. Allowing them to sink into the pool of her blood, she imagined a white light of wellness suffusing her, a light only she could see.

I could feel myself growing stronger, with the pain dying away as healing invigorated me. The blood was still pooled beneath me but no matter, my body was healing itself, replenishing itself with new blood to make up for the loss.

The woman stood up, unsteady on her feet but standing all the same. Osric watched her with surprise in his expression, even though he made no motion to stop her. It was as if he wanted her to meet him on his level.

“You want more, baby?” he crooned with a hideous sneer on his face. “Cause you’re about to get some.”

He pulled his fist back and smashed it into her face, sending her toppling backwards, and landing against a rock that wedged itself into her back. She cried out and rolled away from the rock but before she could try to get back onto her feet, Osric was on top of her, his hands tearing at her shorts with an urgency that frightened her.

“Get the fuck off me,” she yelled and pulled her fist back, landing a blow to his temple. Her arm shook with the effort and Osric flew back about three feet, his back hitting the side of the cave wall. He fell forward and landed against the ground, shaking the dirt out of his hair as he stood up. He glared at her with complete and utter shock in his eyes.

She stood up and her chest heaved as she inhaled, her hands balled up in fists at her side. She was strong in this dreamscape, stronger than she would have been in reality. And now Osric was also aware of the fact.

“So you’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you, bitch?” he seethed. “Good, it will be more fun this way.”

And suddenly he was flying towards me, his arm transformed into an axe as he swung it at my head. I felt my dream body suddenly pulled backwards as I imagined a pair of unseen hands, grasping me and pulling me out of the path of the axe. The back of my head hit the wall of the cave and stars danced before my eyes momentarily. I closed them and forced the stars to subside, demanding my unwavering vision to return. I tumbled to the ground and before I could take another breath, Osric was on top of me again, his hands digging into my thighs, trying to rip my shorts away from me.

“You aren’t strong enough for me!” he screamed into my face and smacked me hard across one cheek. I could feel viscous blood as it languidly streamed from my busted lip.

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” I yelled at him.

“I control this dream,” he spat out and grasped the waistline of my shorts again. “And I haven’t killed you yet because I have other ideas.”

“How much Dreamstalker blood have you drunk, you son of a bitch?” I yelled while wrestling his hands away from my shorts.

“Enough,” he shrieked down at me. “You’re no match for me—I’ve got the power of the Dreamstalker in my blood and you are nothing,” he spat at me and his voice was level, even. He threw my hands off his own and in a split second, reached for my tube top, ripping it in two. I glanced down at my bare breasts and felt the heat of humiliation burning my cheeks.

Before I could respond, Osric’s eyes were all over them and a second later, so were his hands. The fact that his attention was distracted allowed me to focus on changing the dreamscape so I could throw him. I’d let him know he wasn’t dealing with a weakling.

I imagined a field of poppies, orange and beautiful. The sun was shining and birds flew from cherry tree to cherry tree, singing their trills for spring. I opened my eyes and found myself blinking against the bright sunlight.

Osric seemed stuck in shock as he gazed around himself in amazement. It was break enough for me to scoot out of his hold and stand up, shaking my hand until a mound of fairy dust emerged. I threw it into the air, allowing it to rain down over me. I glanced down and smiled at the metal chastity belt I’d constructed for myself—ha, I’d like to see the son of a bitch get through steel. A similar steel band protected my breasts from his intruding hands and although I probably looked like some bizarre Amazonian warrior or straight off the set of Mad Max, I lacked only one small but vital detail.

I closed my eyes one last time and pictured my Op 6, heavy in my hands, and at the feel of the cold steel in my palm, I smiled.

I opened my eyes and watched Osric as he realized I’d turned the tables on him and this was my dreamscape. He snarled but didn’t make a move for me. Instead, he got down on all fours and his back arched as bristly fur burst from his spine, covering his entire body completely. His rib cage busted out and doubled in size as his fingernails ripped open, growing into long, hooked talons. He glared at me as his nose flattened into the landscape of his now furry face, and in its place a snout began protruding, his teeth falling out of his mouth as canine fangs replaced them.

He was bigger, broader, scarier than any wolf I ever remembered seeing and I had to wonder if it was due in part to the Dreamstalker blood coursing through his veins or maybe it was just an illusion granted by the dreamscape. Either way, I aimed my Op 6 at the wolf.

Before I could squeeze off a shot, there was a sound like the air inhaling itself and I watched in shock as the sky zipped open, spitting out a man. The man dropped from the heavens and landed with a roll on the ground, coming to stand with his back to me as he faced Osric.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he screamed and Osric growled, leaping for him. The man didn’t even pause to get his bearings and, instead, with his arm raised high and grasping a sword, he met Osric and thrust the sword into Osric’s side.

Osric screamed out in agony and shook his head, simply disappearing into the earth, leaving only his blood staining the ground where he’d vanished. In a split second, Osric reappeared behind the intruder, now in his man skin, and with his arm around the man’s throat. He rotated the man until they both were facing me and that was when I recognized the intruder.

“Quill?” I demanded, dumbfounded, with a sinking feeling in my gut as I tried to figure out how Quill had inserted himself in this dreamscape. He had to have drank the blood of a Dreamstalker—the answer was obvious.

Quill didn’t say anything but blinked himself in and out of focus, disappearing the same way Osric had, and then reappearing behind him. Quill landed a foot into Osric’s lower back and Osric went down with a cry of pain. But after rolling onto his back and pushing up with his hands, he soared five feet into the air before he started coming down again, his hands drawn around a blade.

The tip of the blade was aimed at the top of Quill’s head.

I raised my trembling hands, aiming the Op 6, and thought the words “slow motion” and before Osric’s blade could impale Quill, I squeezed the trigger. Time sped up again and at the instant that the tip of Osric’s blade met Quill’s hair, the bullet from my chamber penetrated the blade and it burst into a thousand pieces.

Osric fell against Quill, minus his weapon, and they both rolled on the ground, yelling and punching one another. Realizing this could go on forever and not wanting Quill to usurp my fight, I imagined a thick wall separating the two, building brick upon brick as it grew in seconds, towering to an unimaginable height, the top disappearing into the clouds. Side walls and a rear wall were quick to follow and seconds later, Quill was confined.

I could hear Quill screaming on the other side of the wall, bashing his hands into the concrete ineffectually. Osric glanced at the wall curiously as I extended both my hands, aiming the Op 6 at him. Osric brought his attention from the wall to me again and I smiled, nodding at him.

“Come and get me, you ugly piece of shit.”

And he did come for me, he charged me with all the fury of an enraged elephant. I wasn’t sure if he noticed the gun in my grip or not but when I fired, the look of shock on his ugly face was priceless. He glanced down at himself, watched the bullet penetrate his stomach and looked back up at me in surprise before his eyes went slack and he fell on the ground, disappearing into the earth, hopefully never to return.

I dropped the gun and felt myself sinking as the meadow began crumbling beneath my feet, the pieces falling into a black void below.

“Quill!” I screamed, watching the bricks of his fortress falling down and disappearing into nothing as they met the crumbling earth below them. The entire structure fell down and dissolved. Quill was nowhere to be seen. I screamed at the sound of bark ripping apart and glanced at the trees as they cracked and broke into what looked like puzzle pieces, disappearing into the abyss. The yellow of the sun faded into a deathly black.

I was waking up, I could feel it. But I didn’t know what had happened to Quill and I didn’t want to wake up until I knew he was alright. I couldn’t wake up, not yet! I suddenly remembered something about spinning—about imagining the dream me spinning to maintain the hold of the dream.

I brought the image of the woman in pink to my mind’s eye and imagined her turning round and round as if her life depended on it.

I blinked and everything was black around me; there was nothing left.

***

“Dulcie!”

I woke up with a start and sat up, fear pounding through me. I could feel someone tugging at my shirt and glanced to my right, into Sam’s concerned face. I said nothing as my attention darted around the room, which was stark in its whiteness. A man standing in the corner of the room had the same expression I must have had—shock as he tried to register where the hell he was and more, what the hell was going on.

“Dulcie!” Sam yelled again and grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to face her. “What … why are we in the hospital? What happened?”

And that was when it all came pouring back into me—the Dreamstalker, the dreamscape, Osric Cassius … I’d beaten Osric, I’d won and … I glanced over at Sam again.

Sam was alive.

Tears gushed from my eyes as I jumped down from the cot and grasped her in my arms, holding her as tightly as I could. I never wanted to let go.

“Sam, it’s okay now,” I breathed. “You’re safe.”

She wrapped her arms around me and I could feel the hot wetness of her tears against my neck.

“I’ve had the worst dreams, Dulce,” she started.

“Shhh, I know,” I crooned against her ear. “Believe me, I know.”

“Girl, you’ve got a whole truckload of explaining to do!”

Dia’s voice was both angry and relieved. I turned from Sam and smiled at Dia as she dropped her expression of anger, even though I’m sure there was a part of her that was super pissed off with me. And it wasn’t like I blamed her.

She approached me in two strides and I wasn’t sure who reached for the other first but it didn’t matter. We stood in the middle of the room, clinging to one another.

“It’s over, Dia,” I whispered, and she answered me with a hearty laugh.

“I hope to Hades I never have to work with your ass again.”

I returned the laugh as I pulled away and smiled at her guiltily. “I’m sorry, Dia,” I started. “But I did what I had to do.”

Dia just shook her head but her smile said she forgave me although she probably wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t want to work with me again. And I couldn’t blame her on that count either. I did have a tendency to do what I wanted and needed to, whether it went counter to other people’s plans or not.

“What’s going on?” Sam demanded, her voice nervous.

Dia faced her and the smile on her face widened. “Girl, I don’t have the time for instant rewind.” Then she faced me again. “I was able to track the son of a bitch using my somnogobelinus senses after all.”

I nodded, it wasn’t surprising. “He’d been drinking a lot of Dreamstalker blood. Maybe the more he drank, the easier it was for you to track him.” I paused for a second or two as my stomach started to drop. “Where the hell is he?”

“Dead,” Dia answered and sounded surprised. “I found the son of a bitch in the basement of the hospital but by the time I got to him, he was already dead.”

I nodded, remembering the fact that I’d shot him. It only made sense that since he’d died in slumber, he’d died in reality.

“Who was he?” Dia demanded.

“Osric Cassius,” I answered and heard Sam gasp. I glanced at her and nodded. “I’ll explain all of this to you later, Sam.”

“I don’t know the name,” Dia interrupted.

I shook my head. “You don’t need to—just another asshole I locked up a long time ago—another asshole with a vendetta.”

She laughed but my mouth had suddenly gone dry as the memory of Quill interrupting my fight with Osric met me like a nightmare. Quill had been in the dreamscape which meant he had to be somewhere nearby and hopefully wasn’t hurt.

I started for the door before glancing back at Dia and Sam. The guy in the corner seemed like he was still shell-shocked and I offered him a quick smile. “I have to go find someone, Dia,” I began as she looked at me with a question in her eyes. “Can you check on Jenny and the others? I’ll be right back.”

“Dulcie!” Sam said and her voice was panicked.

I faced her and smiled. “Sam, I gotta go but I’ll be back in a second. Everything is okay. Just listen to what Dia says.”

Dia frowned at me before she glanced at Sam again. “She needs to listen to her own advice.”

But I wasn’t concerned—I rounded the corner and ran down the hallway, stopping to glance in every room as I searched for Quill. There was no sign of him. I nearly ran headlong into a nurse as she made her rounds and I grasped her arm, my expression wild, I was sure.

“Have you seen a man around here—tall with wavy blond hair?”

She shook her head. “No, are … are you okay?”

I nodded and released her, not sparing her another glance but continued down the hallway, checking each room as I did so. I couldn’t shake the thoughts that maybe something had happened to Quill when the dream world had disintegrated. Or, did something happen prior to that? Had Osric hurt him somehow? I didn’t want to learn the answers. All I wanted to do was find Quill, healthy and alive.

I didn’t wait for the elevator to take me to the second floor but, instead, threw open the door to the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time. When I reached floor two, I blasted through the doors and ran down the hall, glancing in each of the rooms, dodging nurses and doctors left and right.

There was no sign of Quill on floor three and now on floor two.

Luckily, Splendor Hospital wasn’t a huge medical center—it only had the three floors and after I’d exhausted all three, I scouted the basement. Finding nothing that would lead me to Quill, I started my search outside. I had to make sure he was okay; that’s all that was going through my head.

The light of the streetlamps lit my path and I searched the perimeter of the hospital, my gaze traveling back and forth from the manicured trees, to the bushes running the border of the hospital, to the benches that periodically broke the monotony of the landscape. There was no sign of him. I leaned against the wall to catch my breath and felt a scream growing in my throat. What did it mean that I couldn’t find him? Had he already taken off? Or was it worse than that—was he hurt somewhere? Tears of frustration blinded my eyes and I beat my hand against the wall.

“Looking for someone?”

I glanced to the right and watched him step around the corner, bathed in darkness. I wanted to run to him and throw my arms around him and hold him tight but I knew I couldn’t do that. Instead, I just stood there, staring at him.

“Thank you,” I said breathlessly. “Thank you for risking your life for me.”

He chuckled but the sound was sweet. “Anything for you, Dulce,” he answered and pulled his jacket closer around himself.

There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many thoughts and words flying through my head but I couldn’t get my mouth to form around any of them.

“You take care of yourself, my little warrior,” he said with another chuckle and simply walked back into the darkness from whence he’d come.

FIFTEEN

After a few hours I was able to get Jenny, Travis, Shirley and Sam discharged from the hospital and Sam drove us back to my apartment where I explained the whole Dreamstalker situation to her in finite detail, starting with the fact that all the victims were connected to me personally—down to the fact that our Dreamstalker had really been Osric Cassius and even though I struggled to get through it, I also told her about the Mandrake and the fact that I’d seen Quill again.

“Wow, if I didn’t think you were truly my best friend before,” Sam began, scratching Blue’s ears as he sat beside her on the couch, “I definitely do now.”

I laughed and nodded, watching the rain as it poured outside and channeled into little rivulets on my living room windows. “Yeah, I’d say we’re definitely on this trip called life together.”

I held up my glass of red wine and swished the liquid inside the glass while thinking about everything that had happened over the last week.

“So I have to ask you, Dulce,” Sam started mysteriously before a huge grin overtook her mouth. “What in the heck happened to your hair?”

I was silent for a second or two before a laugh took hold of me and wouldn’t let go. My hair was now no longer black, but had migrated through a transitory purple only to end its journey as a flat brownish-grey.

Lovely, just lovely.

“About that,” I started and faced her, watching Blue collapse atop her lap as she continued to stroke his head. “Could you fix it?”

Being a witch, Sam could whip up a potion that would wash the color right out of my hair. My attempts to get it back to its golden honey-blond with my own magic had been less than successful.

“Of course,” Sam replied, taking a sip of her wine as the rain continued to trickle down my window panes. Sam put her glass on the coffee table and faced me with a sober expression. “No word from Knight?” she asked, snuggling into the blanket which she wrapped around her shoulders. We were both sitting on my couch, warm and toasty beside the space heater as the wind tore through the trees and the rain continued to pound outside.

At the mention of Knight, I swallowed hard. “No,” I said, glancing up at her. “No word from him at all.” Course, not having my cell phone since I dropped it on the hospital floor might’ve explained that. But Knight couldn’t use that as an excuse for his lack of communication—he also had my home number.

She nodded. “Are you worried?”

“Yeah, I’m really worried.” I sighed, as I thought about how worried I was. I didn’t know much about the Netherworld but from what I’d heard, it sounded like a tough place—wild and uncivilized in many ways. And the idea that Knight had taken it upon himself to lie to the Court of the ANC was unbelievable.

“Why would he have lied to the High Court, Sam?” I asked rhetorically.

“Because he’s in love with you,” she answered, startling me.

“In love with me?” I scoffed. “Please.”

She frowned and shrugged. “Someday you’re going to have to accept the fact that you’re a pretty awesome girl, Dulcie O’Neil.”

I laughed and emptied the contents of the wine into my mouth, wondering how I felt about the possibility of Knight being in love … with me. I banished the thought away as soon as it entered my head—there was no way he was in love with me. Was it even possible for Knight to be in love with anyone? Then that thought led to another one—had Knight ever been in love with someone?

I didn’t dare admit to myself how uncomfortable that thought left me.

“I just hope he’s okay,” I said in a small voice. “Wherever he is, I hope he’s okay.”

And I’d already told myself that if Knight didn’t contact me or show up on my doorstep in the next three days, I was going to the Netherworld to tell the High Court what really happened, that Knight had just been protecting me and I was the one who had let Quill go.

Yes, I realized that in doing so, Knight could be tried for perjury but I hoped his intention of protecting me would be a lesser offense than allowing Quill to escape. No, that was my failure and eventually I’d have to face up to it.

Three days, that was all I was giving Knight …

“Well, if I didn’t say thank you before,” Sam started, shattering my thoughts of Knight, “I’m saying it now.” She grasped my ankle and squeezed it. “Thank you, Dulce, for being such an amazing friend and risking your life for mine.”

I just nodded, feeling tears springing into my eyes. Yes, Sam was my best friend and the closest person to me in the world. I reached over and hugged her for the nth time that evening. Even though she’d asked if she could spend the night because she was afraid to be alone, she’d merely beaten me to it—there was no way I wanted to be alone either.

I pulled away from her and there was an expression on her face like she was in the midst of pondering some involved subject. “Do you think Quill is happy?” she asked in a voice that sounded far away.

I cocked my head as I considered it. “No,” I said, finally. “I think he’s tried to make a bad situation as good as he can. He’s been able to rise to the top because he’s smart and he knows how to play the game, but as to being happy, no I don’t think he is.” And it wasn’t a thought that brought me any sort of pleasure.

“I bet he was happiest when he was working with us at the ANC,” Sam continued. “When you two used to flirt and argue and flirt and argue some more.”

I made a face at her. “We never flirted!”

“Total lie, Dulce!” Sam laughed and Blue lifted his head from Sam’s lap as if to say that he, too, knew it was a total lie. “Do you know that we all used to make bets on whether or not it would be a Dulcie-Quillan flirt day or argue day?”

I faced her with my mouth agape. “You did not!”

She laughed and nodded. “Yeah, we did. And I have to admit, the odds usually ended up being fifty-fifty, which never surprised me, knowing your penchant for arguing.”

“Hey, I don’t like to argue,” I started but Sam’s raised eyebrow snatched the words right off my tongue, defeating me. I smiled but there was unexpressed grief inside me as I thought of Quill, remembering the last words he said to me.

You take care of yourself, my little warrior.

His words had been easier to listen to than “good-bye” would have been, but they basically meant the same thing—neither of us knew if we’d ever see each other again. And although I didn’t want to admit it, I ached to see Quill again because being around him reminded me of a time when things weren’t so difficult—before I knew that friends could betray one another and before I knew what it felt like to be addicted to illegal narcotics. Seeing Quill returned me to an innocent time when he played the muse of pirate captain, when the Wrangler was still around and when life was overall easier.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked.

“Stuff I shouldn’t be thinking about,” I answered, noncommittally.

A knock on the door pulled me from my reverie and alerted me to the fact that Dia and Trey had arrived—we’d decided to have a little Dreamstalker-ass-busting celebratory dinner at my place. I stood up, Blue at my side, and approached the door, grabbing hold of Blue’s collar when he started to paw the door while barking. Opening it with a smile, I faced Dia, who was drenched from head to toe, wearing a deep frown that clashed with her otherwise pretty face.

“I should have told you to pick up the food,” she grumbled as she glanced at Blue. “Is he friendly?”

I shrugged. “No, not really.”

She made a face and cautiously entered while Blue sniffed her twice and instantly lost interest, trotting back over to the couch which he jumped on, circled a few times and made himself comfortable.

Trey was quick behind Dia and offered me a happy grin. It seemed like nothing got in the way of a happy mood and Trey and I had to admit, I liked him the better for it.

“Hi Dulce,” he said, when a huge, beaming smile spread across his lips as he spotted Sam. “Hi, Sam!”

Sam smiled up at him and waved while I helped Dia with the bag of Italian takeout, bringing it into the kitchen, where I plopped it up on the counter and started unloading the various dishes. Dia rifled through my drawers, searching for utensils and plates.

“Any word from Knight?” I asked under my breath, not wanting to alert Trey to the fact that there was a problem. Trey really admired and liked Knight so I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. But I had a feeling it might become necessary as time went on.

Dia faced me and sighed. “No, you?”

I shook my head and returned to the task of serving up each dish. “I’m scared for him, Dia.”

She put a consoling hand on my shoulder. “He’ll reach out to you, Dulcie, I’m sure he will. He’s probably up to his neck in crap at the moment.”

“He would call me, if he was able to.”

“Just give him a little more time. It’s been, what …” she glanced down at her watch, “four hours since we heard from him last? He could be in court.”

I nodded, she was right—maybe I was jumping to conclusions. But there was a little voice in the back of my head that said Knight would have gotten in touch with me, no matter how busy he’d been. Especially when we ended our conversation with him knowing I was going to go to sleep in order to meet up with the Dreamstalker.

“I got the reports on the blood tests back,” Dia started, distracting my thoughts from Knight, which was just as well because worrying about him wasn’t helping me.

I glanced at her, wondering why the blood tests were even a consideration now. Obviously we knew who our Dreamstalker was or had been. “And?”

“More than half of them were on some sort of blood—Kraken, were …” She glanced at me. “Fairy.”

“What?” I demanded. “Fairy?”

There weren’t a lot of fairies in the US. We totaled maybe ten and in Splendor, there were just two—me and the fairy hooker, Zara. And needless-to-say, I hadn’t been donating my blood. Damn Zara …

“Why do I have a feeling that’s the next case we’re going to be working on?” I mumbled.

Dia laughed. “Honey, I already told you I am not interested in working with you again. You about gave me heart failure this time around.”

I smiled. “What if I promise to be a better team player?”

She just gave me a diva-like expression and refrained from further comment.

“Where’s dinner?” Trey called from the living room. “I’m a hungry man!”

I laughed and shook my head, suddenly feeling grateful to be surrounded by my friends.

***

Two hours later, Dia and Trey left and I was doing dishes while Sam cuddled up on the couch, watching reruns of “The Tudors.”

“I just don’t see how it’s possible for an ordinary human man to be as hot as Henry Cavill is,” Sam announced. “He’s got to be the best looking guy I think I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed but had to disagree—there was one man who I could honestly say was the be all, end all in the looks category as far as I was concerned and that man was Knight.

I sighed inwardly as I thought about Knight again, for the umpteenth time this evening. It was like I just couldn’t eradicate thoughts of him, try as I might. I even promised myself that once I got a good night’s sleep, of which I was in dire need, my next plan would be getting to the Netherworld and confessing that I was the one who screwed up in the apprehension of Quillan.

I couldn’t let Knight fall on the sword for this one.

I finished the dishes and not wanting to watch TV, turned on my computer and thought about checking my e-mails. I hadn’t checked them in days and had to imagine my inbox was at the point of overflowing.

I logged into Yahoo and scanned the various subject lines, pausing once I recognized another e-mail from Barbara Mandley, the literary agent. I opened it and smiled at her announcement that although my book had a few areas that could be improved upon, she wanted to offer representation.

I leaned back as I thought about it. Wow, I’d be able to say I actually had an agent and that had to mean the road to publication had just opened its golden gates for me. This was maybe the start of a new life for me—one where I didn’t have to work law enforcement any longer and could write for a living.

As exciting as the thought was, I also felt a bit sad since, if I made it in the big leagues, I’d probably have to give up my life in law enforcement. I had to admit that I actually did enjoy keeping the citizens of Splendor on the straight and narrow. But I didn’t have time to think about any of that now. I was getting way ahead of myself.

I considered sharing the news that I now had an agent with Sam, but I was so exhausted, I figured I could save the conversation for the morning. And Bram … Bram would be very happy to hear it as well. But that could also wait. For now, I had some Zzzz I needed to catch up on.

“Oh my God,” Sam started. “I just saw Henry’s butt and it was totally bare. Dulce, you gotta come watch this one.”

I laughed just as a frantic knock on my door captured my attention. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was just past midnight.

“Who the hell is coming by at this hour?” Sam asked, pulling her attention from Henry’s hot ass. “And in the rain, no less?”

I shrugged and reached for the Op 6 which stood unattended on my kitchen table. I palmed the gun and wrapped my fingers around it, holding it at my side as I approached the door. Glancing through the peephole was useless because the light above my door had burned out and it was dark outside.

I opened the door and found Knight standing before me, rain trailing down the hard planes of his face.

“Knight?” I whispered, almost afraid he was another Mandrake hallucination that would vanish before me. Then I had to remind myself I hadn’t taken any Mandrake in days which meant … Knight was here and … safe.

“Dulcie,” he said it in the same tone, as if neither one of us believed the other was real.

And then I did something that was so uncharacteristically me, so completely alien from the old Dulcie O’Neil but something that had to be done, all the same. I laid the gun on the table beside the door, walked outside and gently pulled the door closed behind me.

“I missed you,” I said and leaned up on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck and I kissed him.

I kissed him like I’d never kissed anyone before, as all the anxiety and worry that had been building up within me dissolved into Knight’s taste.

Knight was safe.

The words were like music to my mind.

Knight’s tongue was in my mouth before I could think and I welcomed it. I ran my hands through his sopping hair and held him tighter. As if it wasn’t close enough, he hoisted me into his arms and I wrapped my legs around him, deepening the kiss until I almost couldn’t breathe.

And Knight. I’d never seen him like his—his eyes were closed, one hand splaying through my hair as the other held me in place. He pushed me against the closed door and pulled his mouth from mine, shifting the hair from in front of my neck as he trailed a line of kisses down my throat.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I whispered. “I was worried sick about you.”

He chuckled but didn’t stop nibbling my neck. “You were worried sick about me?” he asked, amused. “I’ve been beside myself wondering if you were … alive.”

I grasped his hahe shook his headir and pulled him away from my neck. “Knight, what happened at the High Court?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

He didn’t answer but gripped my neck and forced his mouth on mine again. His passion was insatiable and I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my mouth.

“God, I want you, Dulcie,” he growled.

“I want you too,” I started and that seemed to be enough for him because his hand was suddenly turning the doorknob, like he’d grown tired of freezing outside and wanted to get it on in the comfort of my bed. I put my hand on top of his. “Sam is here, Knight.”

He dropped his head and I could see the sag of his broad shoulders. He glanced up and smiled but there was disappointment in his eyes. “I’m happy Sam is okay, Dulce, but at the moment, I could kill her.”

I laughed and shook my head, before the need to know what had happened to him gnawed away at me again. “What happened at the High Court and what the hell were you thinking when you to lied to them, Knight? That was so stupid.”

He shook his head and just gazed at me for a moment or two. “I had to do it, Dulce. They’d be easier on me than they would on you.”

“Why?”

He grasped my chin, tilting it up again. “I can’t think about that right now. All I can focus on is tasting you.”

He kissed me with an intense passion, pulling me into him, until I could feel the hardness between his thighs. I wrapped one leg around his waist, wanting to feel him inside my own melting core. If Sam hadn’t been on the other side of the door, I would have ripped my clothes off and told Knight to take me right then and there. But Sam was on the other side of the door and the thought of her enforced my self-control.

“Knight, talk to me,” I said, pulling away from him. “Are you ready to go inside?”

He arched a brow. “No, I’m not, but there’s no use in freezing out here.”

I smiled and palmed the doorknob, opening the door. I offered Sam a sheepish grin as she glanced at both of us. “Knight!” she said with a smile.

“Sam, how are you doing?” he asked and I couldn’t help but notice that he had his hands clasped in front of himself to hide the raging ... ahem … thing behind his pants and looked totally ridiculous in the process.

“I’m great,” she answered and then looked at me again with a smile that I knew all too well. She turned off the TV. “I am getting pretty tired so I’ll just retire in Dulce’s room. Night guys.”

“Night,” I said and figured I wouldn’t hear the end of it tomorrow. But for now, I could concentrate on Knight.

We watched her disappear into my room and close the door behind her and as soon as she did so, Knight’s hands were all over me again, his tongue in my mouth. I had to pry myself away again.

“You never answered my question, why would the High Court go easier on you than me?”

“Because I’m higher up in the ranks,” he answered absentmindedly as his hands found my waist and he pulled me into him. “I’ve proven myself, so to say.”

I frowned. “And I haven’t?”

He smiled down at me. “You’ve proven yourself and then some, you know that. But that’s coming from me—the Netherworld ANC hasn’t worked with you and they don’t know you, Dulce, but they know me.”

I nodded, guessing that made sense but I still didn’t like it and it didn’t change my plan to make sure his name didn’t get muddied in this whole situation.

“So what happened with the case?” I demanded.

He took a few steps from me, pulling out one of my kitchen chairs and deposited himself in it with a sigh, as if he realized the sex stuff was over for the night. “I didn’t stay to find out.”

“You left in the middle of your case?” I asked, my voice dropping in disbelief.

“I didn’t wait for the case to begin,” he answered with a grin. “Once I knew you were going to meet the Dreamstalker on his terms, I left.” He glanced at me and his gaze raked me from head to toe. “I couldn’t focus on anything else, knowing you could be dying.”

I approached him and sat down on his lap, straddling him. He wrapped his hands around my waist and buried his face in my chest.

“I’m not going to let you take the rap for me letting Quillan go,” I whispered in his ear and started kissing his neck.

“You don’t have a choice,” he responded, his hands on either of my breasts as I began rocking myself against the hardness in his pants.

“The High Court is going to be pissed you bailed on them,” I added.

He chuckled. “Pissed isn’t even the word for it.” He brought his hands back to my waist and dropped his head back as he closed his eyes while I continued to gyrate against him.

This wasn’t an argument that was going to be won tonight. For tonight, I just appreciated the fact that Knight was safe, that Sam was alive and the Dreamstalker was dead. Tomorrow I could face all the other problems that had recently become my life—I could face the question of the illegal blood on the underground market and I could figure out what the hell I was going to do about the High Court.

Knight glanced up at me and his eyes glowed that eerie luminescence I’d first seen at Bram’s party.

“Okay, big guy, what’s with the eye glowing bit?” I asked, while rubbing my fingers against his incredibly soft lips.

He diverted his gaze as if he was embarrassed. “Are they glowing?” he asked.

I tilted his chin up and smiled down at him. “Yep and now there are no interruptions like Angela or Bram’s party so you’d better tell me why.”

He sighed and it spoke volumes. Anything Knight didn’t want to inform me about, I wanted to know all the more. “It’s something Lokis do,” he said simply.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I answered with a raised brow.

He chuckled. “Nothing with you is ever easy, Dulcie.”

“No tangents either,” I said with a smirk. “Nice try though.”

He returned the smirk. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Dinner tomorrow night, my house, eight o’clock.”

I narrowed my eyes and smiled. “Done.”

He grasped my waist and lifted me off his lap, placing me on my kitchen floor. Then he stood up. “Until tomorrow,” he said with a smile.

“Wait a second,” I started, my hands on my hips. “I just agreed to your condition.”

He nodded. “Yes, you did, but it isn’t tomorrow night at my house at eight o’clock, is it?”

I frowned. “But …”

“Dulcie, I know you too well. Between now and tomorrow night, there’s a very good chance you’ll talk yourself out of the fact that you and I are great for each other. So, rather than giving up my secret now, I’ll tell you tomorrow … once you show up for our date.”

I laughed even though I was annoyed.

He reached for me and placed a chaste kiss on my lips then pulled away, starting for the door. He grasped the handle and opened it, stepping into the darkness before he turned around and faced me again.

“And be sure to show up because this is one of my better secrets.”

Then he closed the door behind him and left me in my living room with only Blue for company.

“What a …” I started.

Blue glanced up at me and shook his canine head before closing his eyes as he drifted back into doggy sleep.

The End

GREAT

HEXPECTATIONS

Dulcie O’Neil #3

by

H.P. Mallory

Other Series by H.P. Mallory

Paranormal Women’s Fiction Series:

Haven Hollow

Midlife Spirits

Midlife Mermaid

Paranormal Shifter Series:

Arctic Wolves

Paranormal Romance Series:

Underworld

Lily Harper

Dulcie O’Neil

Lucy Westenra

Paranormal Adventure Series:

Dungeon Raider

Chasing Demons

Detective SciFi Romance Series:

The Alaskan Detective

Academy Romance Series:

Academy of Necromancy

Reverse Harem Series: (Writing as Plum Pascal)

Happily Never After

My Five Kings

Great Hexpectations

Copyright © 2018 by H.P Mallory

All rights reserved.

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements:

To my fabulous mother, thank you for all your help. This book wouldn’t be anywhere near as concise without your input.

To my editor, Teri, thank you

To my son, Finn, for all your coos and giggles every morning.

Great Hexpectations

ONE

So, Knight was right—I hadn’t exactly surrendered myself to the idea of going on a date with him. In fact, I’d been doing a damned good job of trying to talk myself out of it because the sensible part of me thought it wasn’t a good idea to mix business with pleasure. Granted, Knight and I didn’t work together anymore (not in the technical sense of him being my boss), but I still managed to find myself on cases with him, so for all intents and purposes, we were working together. And as any smart person will tell you, business should be just that, business.

Okay, so that was the practical side of me. The less practical side of me couldn’t stop thinking about the last kiss Knight and I shared in my kitchen—when I’d been straddling the incredibly hot man, er Loki (Knight is a creature called a Loki—forged from the fires of the Netherworld god, Hades), and played the game of “let’s see how far my tongue can go down your throat.” I would’ve actually had sex with him right then and there if it hadn’t been for my best friend who coincidentally was staying with me. And, really, looking back on it, I’m glad Sam was my roommate that evening because I wasn’t quite ready to surrender to my more carnal feelings for Knight. Not yet anyway.

So you’re probably wondering what in the hell is wrong with me, right? Why would I not want to get involved with an incredibly hot and mostly nice guy? (Well, Knight can be a bit of a cocky bastard but I guess that comes with being the head of the Association of Netherworld Creatures here in Splendor, California—think police detective). So, yes, he’s the best looking guy I’ve basically ever seen in my life and yes, he seems to be into me; but I guess I have hang-ups, namely my ex-boyfriend, Jack, who cheated on me and really screwed me up.

My first issue with Jack is that he’s human. Now, before you start thinking I’m some sort of weird alien life form, I’m not, (although I once spent about five hours transformed into a mass of green goo). I’m a fairy and I’m attractive, if I do say so myself. I’m also a law enforcement agent working as a consultant at the moment for ANC Splendor, and, yes, for Knightley Vander.

But, back to the subject of a date with Knight. Yes, I’d gone back and forth, basically having a full-blown argument between my rational side and the side of me that hadn’t gotten any in a while. The side that hadn’t gotten any in a while won, but, not for the reasons you might be thinking.

I’d decided to go on a date with Knight for two reasons: first, because he mentioned that he didn’t think I would go on a date with him—that I’d talk myself out of it (I guess he’s beginning to know me better)—and I wanted to prove him wrong. Second, as I mentioned earlier, Knight is a Loki which is a creature I’d never come across before, since they seem to only exist in the Netherworld. But, that’s not why I wanted to go out with him … Knight has this weird condition, for lack of a better description, where his eyes start randomly glowing. So, naturally, I was curious as to why the hell his eyes glow and he said he’d tell me the hows and whys of it but only if I agreed to go on a date with him.

Sigh.

So, here I was, dressed in my evening best and waiting for the Loki to show up. I was wearing a short red dress with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. The material had to have Spandex in it because it seemed to hug my curves. And, no, I hadn’t magicked this one, although, as a fairy, I could have, had I wanted to. Sometimes, though, it just takes too much creative juice to make your own clothes; after a while, my wardrobe starts to all look the same. This outfit was purchased from the Juniors’ section of Macy’s in preparation for my date with Knight.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I stepped into my black stiletto heels and said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t stumble and kiss the pavement. Truth be told, I really wasn’t used to high heels—I preferred my tennies because they were the best shoes to fight in. When you’re in law enforcement, you never know when you might need to pull out a can of whoop-ass. And pulling out a can of whoop-ass is definitely easier when you aren’t wearing stilettos. But, tonight, I planned to leave the whoop-ass cans to Knight, that is, if we even needed them.

I ran my fingers through my elbow-length honey gold hair, covering the tips of my ears. As a fairy, my ears come to points at the top and I’m not exactly thrilled with them. I always wear my hair down to cover the points. I once actually considered getting ear surgery but decided I wouldn’t allow myself to be so vain.

My eyes are green, as in the color of emeralds, and I’ve got an oval-shaped face with decently plump lips. People seem to think I’m pretty but I don’t really see myself that way. It’s not like I’m self-conscious or anything—I’m just less concerned with my looks than with making sure my body is fit and healthy. That’s because, really, as a fairy, my body is my best weapon. Beauty won’t save you in a fight.

As I glanced at my small frame (I’m five foot one), I was pleased to see that, if anything, I looked leaner. Yes, my breasts still filled out my C cup bras and my hips remained on the curvy side, but the rest of me was solid, sculpted. My muscles were well defined which was good news—it meant I’d be that much faster and better when it came to combat.

At the sound of the doorbell, I grabbed my black leather jacket and my purse and, after nearly tripping over my ridiculous heels, I started for the living room.

I glanced through the peephole and after ensuring it was Knight, I pulled the door open.

“Hi,” I said.

Knight didn’t answer. Instead, he made it very obvious that he was taking me in from head to toe, his gaze pausing a little too long on my bust. Well, it did serve me right, I guess—the dress had a pretty deep neckline and I was wearing my Wonderbra.

“Um, hello Knight,” I grumbled again and pointed to my face as his eyes continued to ogle my bust line. “If you’re waiting for my boobs to talk, don’t hold your breath.”

A huge smile appeared as his gaze moved back up to my face. “Nicely done, Dulce.”

Knight, as I mentioned before, is basically the definition of gorgeous. He’s insanely tall, (I’m not exactly sure how tall but over six-three for sure). He’s like looking up a flag pole. His hair is pitch black and his eyes are blue, that is, when they aren’t glowing. Tonight he had the beginnings of stubble decorating his chin and cheeks and looked every inch the rogue that he is.

“Thanks, are you ready?” I asked, never exactly comfortable with compliments, especially compliments from a Loki.

“Aren’t you going to say I look nice?” he asked, holding his hands out as I examined his figure. He was wearing dark grey slacks and a black, v-necked, short-sleeved dress shirt. The sinewy muscle of his forearms hinted to the fact that this guy was built like an ox—strong, almost intimidatingly so.

“You look very handsome,” I said reluctantly and managed a half smile. “Handsome” didn’t even begin to express the way he looked. “Handsome” paled in comparison. “Killer sexy” might have been more apropos.

“Wow, handsome, huh?”

“Stop trying to get more compliments out of me,” I retorted and started for the door, grasping the doorknob. “So where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” Knight answered and offered his arm. I closed the door behind me and then took his arm, silently appreciative of the fact that he’d offered it. It definitely would make walking down my driveway in stilettos that much easier.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Knight said and snuck another glance at me, this one at my backside. “Not that you don’t always look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I answered and felt something warm boil up inside me—something decidedly girly and decidedly unlike me.

“I was pretty surprised you didn’t talk yourself out of our date,” Knight commented as he opened the passenger door of his silver BMW M3 for me.

I smiled up at him. “I came close, believe me.”

He chuckled. “I DO believe you.”

He walked around to the driver’s side and opening the door, seated himself before he glanced over at me again. “So what made you decide to see it through?”

I shrugged and figured I’d go for honesty. “I wanted to find out about that eye glowing bit.”

He nodded and looking over at me, offered me a boyish smile. “I had a feeling that would do it.”

“So seeing as how we’re on a date and that was the agreement, spill the beans.”

He chuckled again as he started the engine and the Beemer purred beneath him. I couldn’t help but think everything would purr beneath him.

“Our date isn’t over yet,” he said with an evil smile. “I’ll tell you at the end of it.”

“I thought you’d probably milk it,” I said and shook my head, sighing over the injustice of the whole thing.

“Gotta pull out all my tricks with you, Dulce.”

For the next ten minutes, we made small talk as Knight managed to break more than one traffic law as we drove through downtown Splendor. There weren’t many people out and about for a Friday night, not that Splendor was a happening spot. In fact, it wasn’t happening really at all. It was more of a bedroom community, although we did have a decent population of Netherworld creatures.

Those with superhuman abilities had come out of the proverbial closet fifty years ago. Even though things had definitely simmered down since the dawning of the truth regarding the fact that vampires, werewolves and witches not only existed but had also been living among humans undetected for hundreds of years, we were still subject to ignorance and misunderstanding.

Knight pulled into the parking lot of Bliss, a nightclub that had just opened and played rival to the only other night club in Splendor, No Regrets, which was run by the vampire Bram, whom I guess I could call my friend.

“I thought we were doing dinner and drinks tonight?” I asked, turning to face Knight.

He shrugged and coaxed the Beemer into a spot by the back door. Then he glanced over at me with a wide smile as he turned the engine off and opened his door. “Will you just trust me?”

I undid my seatbelt and was about to let myself out when Knight appeared beside my door and opened it for me. Yes, he was lightning fast but I wasn’t really surprised. As a Loki, Knight has a plethora of powers but he’ll never tell me everything he’s capable of. That relegates me to picking up on his abilities here and there, basically whenever he feels like showing off.

I took his proffered hand and stood up, quickly finding my balance. “You know, Bram won’t like the fact that we’re here and supporting his competition,” I remarked, feeling a little guilty over the fact.

“What the hell do I care?” Knight asked with a bit too much acid in his tone. Yep, Knight didn’t like Bram and vice versa. I think it was because they were both jealous of one another.

“Well, I care because I need Bram’s support,” I answered, throwing his nasty tone back at him as we started for the door of Bliss. Bram seemed to walk the line between good citizen and outlaw. I usually kept a blind eye to his less than noble pursuits because he was good about giving me leads when it came to catching the bigger bad guys.

“What Bram doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Knight answered dismissively and, nodding his head at the bouncer, the smaller man approached the double entry doors and held one of them open for us. Knight offered him a smile and allowed me to enter before he came up behind me, putting his hands on either side of my hips as he steered me through the crowd.

I glanced back and him with a frown to which he merely responded with an innocent grin. Facing the club again, I took in my surroundings, immediately making note of the exit routes. Hey, you never know when you’re going to need one. As to the club itself, the place was pretty packed. A strobe light highlighted the patrons as they danced in the center of the room, making the crowd appear like some sort of pulsating, throbbing creature. Timbaland’s “Scream” belted out through the speakers and I felt myself hungering for a Captain Morgan and Coke. The dance floor was square and large, and a bar occupied the far corner, while lounges fringed the sides.

Knight tightened his grip on either side of my waist and piloted me through the mass of undulating people, pulling me into him when some drunken guy stumbled out in front of me. The guy looked embarrassed and quickly allowed the crowd to swallow him up again as Knight directed me to an empty table which boasted a few purses and … Trey’s manbag?

“Surprise!”

Before I had the chance to think another thought, Sam, Dia and Trey all jumped out from wherever the hell they’d been hiding and greeted me with large smiles and jazz hands. I felt myself go into fight or flight mode and had to calm myself down, talking my heart out of having an attack while I took a deep breath.

“What’s going on?” I asked, turning to face Knight with total confusion written on my face. It’s not like it was my birthday or anything.

Knight smiled smugly and nodded at the booth, motioning for me to take a seat. “I thought you needed a night out on the town with your friends because you’ve been through a lot lately.”

And that was the truth. I’d been through a crap load lately. Hmm, within the last six months, I’d nearly been killed by a Kragengen shape-shifter—a voracious predator that had been feasting on some of Splendor’s citizens. And if that weren’t enough to cause my stress levels to spike, more recently, I had to defeat a Dreamstalker, who attacked me under the guise of my dreams. But, wait, it gets better … I also suffered through the tragedy of learning that my old boss, the prior Head of the ANC, not to mention my very close friend, Quillan, had been double dealing all along and turned out to be one of the bad guys. Yes, I had had one hell of a year.

I glanced at Knight and smiled. Sometimes he did things that surprised me, things that were not in line with his tough guy persona. Sometimes he made me wonder.

“Girl, you need a drink!” Dia said with a huge smile as she enveloped me in her arms.

Dia Robinson was one of my newest friends but that didn’t diminish our friendship, which was bonded strong. Dia was the Head of the ANC for one of our bordering communities, Moon. She and I worked very closely on the last case which involved the Dreamstalker.

“It’s so good to see you,” I said as I held her tightly, taking in her bright red halter top and matching pants. Red must have been her favorite color because it seemed she was always wearing it. I had to admit, it did compliment her beautiful chocolate skin and the perpetual glow that seemed to surround her. Dia was one of those people you couldn’t help wanting to hang out with.

She pulled away and smiled down at me with her full, beautiful lips just as my best friend, (a witch working for the ANC), Sam, appeared and gave me a big hug. Then it was Trey’s turn. Trey is a hobgoblin, also employed by Knight and the ANC, and, although I’d never cared for him much in the beginning of our acquaintance, I definitely considered him a friend now.

“’Sup, Dulce?” he said, lifting his chin like he thought he was Eminem or something.

I couldn’t help my laugh. Trey is anything but cool although he tries so hard to play the part. He’s short, overweight, always sweaty and perpetually lusting after anything with boobs. But he’s got a heart of gold.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, Trey,” I said.

“Okay, what’s everyone drinking?” Knight asked and offered us all a cheery grin. He took everyone’s orders while I sat down at the table and the other three followed suit.

“Wow, this is a surprise,” I started. “And you drove all the way from Moon, Dia?” Moon was a good two-hour drive from Splendor.

“Honey, there’s no way I was going to miss it. ’Specially when your Mr. Sex on a Stick said I’d better make it out or suffer the wrath of the Loki.” She paused for a second or two, running her perfectly manicured nails against her lips. “Course, that’s a punishment I just might want to sign up for!”

“Oh, God,” I muttered. Dia was like a cat in heat whenever she was around Knight. However, all women were like that really. “I’m happy to see you, Dia.”

“And I’m happy to be here, girl. Got to know your BFF a little better,” she said, glancing at Sam who just smiled.

“Yeah, I guess I was sort of passed out during our introduction,” Sam said with a smile. The truth of the matter was that Sam had been in a coma. She’d been one of the Dreamstalker’s victims and Dia, Knight and I had worked tirelessly to save her. But, I didn’t need any more reminders of the hell my life had been lately. Instead, I fully intended to drink away the memories and lose myself in the moment—surrounded by the people closest to me.

***

Two hours later and I was inebriated. I’d downed four Captain Morgan and Cokes and now found myself dancing in front of Knight, who was sitting at our table with his legs stretched out before him, watching me with a glimmer in his eye as he sipped his whiskey.

“So I thought you wanted some alone time with me?” I started, swaying my hips to “All The Right Moves” by One Republic. “What happened to that?”

Knight smiled and I felt something blossom in my stomach—something repressed, something carnal. I wanted him.

“Of course I want some alone time with you.”

“So why didn’t you take the opportunity tonight?”

He shrugged. “Because tonight is about you. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need and I thought you needed a night out to release some steam.”

I nodded and suppressed the incredible desire to throw my arms around him and kiss him. Sometimes he was just so … nice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dulce.” He sipped his whiskey again, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m trying to prove I’m not a bad guy.”

I was taken aback and stopped dancing, instead swaying with inebriation. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but you’re still holding back.” Then he laughed. “You’re a tough nut to crack. The toughest I’ve come across yet.”

“Maybe that’s why you keep coming back?”

He sipped his whiskey and his eyes began to lighten, an eerie glow usurping their otherwise bright blue. His damned eyes were glowing again, the same way they had the first time I’d seen them do it—when we were at Bram’s restaurant. I bit my tongue, wanting to ask him what the deal was but I knew he wouldn’t enlighten me. Not yet—our date still wasn’t over.

“Nope, that’s not why I keep coming back,” he said simply and the glow in his eyes died away. Before I had the chance to respond, Sam came up behind me.

“I have to pee, Dulce, wanna come?”

I didn’t want to come but it was unspoken girl law that if your friend had to pee, you had to accompany her. I nodded and smiled at Knight in apology as he smirked. I wasn’t sure why, but I was convinced his gaze didn’t stray from us as we made our way through the crowd, eventually disappearing into the bathroom.

“So are you going to have sex with Knight later or what?” Sam asked, her words slurring until it sounded like she was talking underwater.

“Sam!”

She waved away my faux shock. “Come on, Dulce, when are you gonna give the poor guy a break?”

“Ah, so you’re on his side now?” I asked in mock annoyance, propping my hands on my hips.

Sam started for the stall but didn’t stop talking, she just raised her voice. “I think we both mislabeled him. Knight’s not a player. He really likes you.”

I sighed deeply, not really sure what to think or what to say. All I was sure of was that I really didn’t want to wait in the bathroom for her, listening to her pee. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

I started for the door and exhaled all my tension. Did Knight really like me or was he actually just a player? Would he treat me as badly as Jack had? Would I even be dumb enough to put myself in that situation again to begin with? I mean, I liked my life as it was. Granted I really didn’t have much of a romantic life, but did that really matter? I had friends …

“Dulcie.”

It was like I was in slow motion, my brain trying to place the voice but finding it difficult with my alcohol-induced stupor. But, when I focused on the man standing before me, complete with his sickening sweet smile, I wanted to throw up.

“Jack.”

I didn’t even recognize my own voice. Instead, my heart was hammering and my blood seemed to be increasing in temperature, boiling me from the inside out. My breath was coming faster and shallower and it was all I could do to stay standing.

“Wow, didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Yeah,” I managed to reply as I tried to get control of myself. Dulcie, you can handle this. Just calm the hell down. Just act cool.

Jack looked the same as he had all those years ago. Still tall and dashingly handsome; still the same warm brown eyes I’d lost myself in; still that charming, boyish smile. His eyes raked me from head to toe.

“You look great, like you haven’t changed since the last time I saw you.”

The last time he saw me … the time I’d caught him in bed with another woman. And then all the emotions, all the feelings of anger and hurt started churning in my gut again, feeling as fresh as if I’d just walked in on him again.

I didn’t realize my hands had fisted at my sides until I glanced down at them. My body absolutely and totally wanted to knock him out. And that was when I realized I needed to just walk away. Before I had the chance, I was blocked by what looked like an Amazon. She approached Jack and took his hand and it was like déjà vu. She wasn’t the same woman I’d walked in on all those years ago, but that didn’t even matter. Standing beside him, she was his height—a full six feet. And she was gorgeous with long black hair and boobs that were so big, she could probably get away with driving in the carpool lane.

“Who’s this, Jack?” she asked in a sweet voice laced with alcohol.

As far as my buzz was concerned, it had packed and moved out at the exact moment I found myself standing in front of my ex.

“This is Dulcie,” he said with that same smirk, his eyes never leaving mine. They were hungry, predatorily so. “My ex.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “The fairy?”

Jack was a human and, apparently, so was this chick. Her humanity was something that should have struck me immediately since I have the ability to detect Netherworld creatures from humans as soon as I get close to one. I can tell a werewolf from a vamp from a goblin from a ditzy brunette in less than three seconds. But, where the hell that ability was right now was anyone’s guess.

“Yeah, the fairy,” I managed to answer.

The woman smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth set behind sumptuous, full lips. I could never accuse Jack of dating anyone less than beautiful. “Well, isn’t she just the cutest, lil’ thing? I could just pinch her, she’s so cute, like a lil’ lightnin’ bug.”

That was when I realized she had a southern accent. Scarlett O’Hara had just lost all her charm and, as God was my witness, I’d be damned if I ever drank another sweet tea.

“Yeah, I’d say Dulcie has some lightning in her,” Jack said with a laugh and another carnivorous gaze, this time at my bust.

Even though I wanted to either blast their righteous smiles off their righteous faces or, at the very least, run away and hide, I did neither. My feet were cemented in place like my ankles had just gone on strike.

“You okay, Dulce?”

I heard Knight’s baritone voice come up behind me at the same instant that his arm weaved through mine and his hand found my waist, grasping it and pulling me into him. I couldn’t even speak, and from the looks of it, neither could the skyscraper. Instead, she just stared at Knight like she’d never seen a god before.

“Hi,” she said and paused for a few seconds. “Who are you?”

“Knight.” He glanced down and offered me a little smile, squeezing my side as if to say he knew exactly what I was going through and that he was there for me, that he would see me through this. Then he faced the woman again and extended his hand. “I’m Dulcie’s fiancé, it’s nice to meet you.”

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than for the room and everyone in it to melt away around us, leaving only Knight and me. He’d saved me. Just when I thought I was going to shrivel up and die, he’d ridden in on his white steed and slayed my dragon.

“Hi, Knight,” the woman said in as flirty a voice as she could muster. “I’m Sunshine.”

Knight chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll bet you are.”

“And I’m Jack,” the jerk in question said as he thrust his hand out and the smile he’d been wearing only seconds before was now nowhere to be found. Instead, he wore a deeply etched frown and it was obvious he was put out either because I had a fiancé or because his date was still staring at Knight in total and complete appreciation.

“Good to meet you,” Knight responded, without offering his hand in return. Instead, he glanced down at me and smiled. “Was wondering where you’d gone to, Dulcie.” Then he started to walk away, pulling me with him and when he smacked my ass and smiled at them, he added, “I just can’t get enough of her, she’s so damned beautiful,” I didn’t even mind.

When we were out of their line of sight, he looked at me with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

I just nodded, still feeling shell-shocked. Then I glanced up at him and felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time, something I couldn’t even characterize but it was real and pounding its way through me. “Thank you.”

He just nodded. “Sorry about the ass smack but wanted to play it up.”

“No,” I was quick to respond. “I mean it … thank you.”

Knight didn’t say anything for a few seconds but bit his lip like he was trying to find just the right words. Then he turned to face me and there was something deliberate about his expression. “Dulcie, he’s an asshole, you know that, right?”

At first I was confused because it wasn’t as though Knight had ever met Jack, so how could he know the situation between us? But then it suddenly occurred to me that Knight knew exactly who Jack was. He knew because he’d inserted himself in a dream that I’d had about Jack a long time ago. That was one of Knight’s abilities—he could basically highjack my dreams whenever he wanted to.

“Trust me, I know he’s a jerk. I was just surprised to see him, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Knight answered although he didn’t sound convinced. “Did it weird you out at all? I mean, what I said?”

“Weird me out?” I shot back at him with a little laugh. “No, you were like my knight in shining armor.”

He chuckled. “No pun intended?”

Warmth suffused me as I glanced back up at him. “No pun intended.”Dulcie

TWO

By the end of the evening, I was drunker than I’d been in a long time. After the little incident with Jack and Dixie’s tallest woman, I found myself wanting nothing more than to lose myself in alcohol. Granted, it probably wasn’t a great idea, but I wasn’t concerned with great ideas at the moment … no, all I was concerned with was inebriation and the quickest route there.

“Dulce, I gotta get to bed,” Sam said and collapsed into the booth next to me. “I feel sick.”

“You’re a witch, charm away your hangover,” I argued, not wanting the night to end. If the night ended, I’d go home, which would leave me with nothing to do but think. And given the events of the evening, thinking wasn’t such a great idea.

Sam shook her head. “I’m too drunk to focus on a charm. I think it’s a few Advil for me and the sack.”

“Girl, I’m right there with you,” Dia said with a laugh. Although she’d had just as much to drink as we did, she didn’t seem drunk in the least. Nope … instead, Dia looked like she’d just been sipping on water all night. The same couldn’t be said for Trey, who sat beside Knight, and had already fallen asleep, drooling into his man-bag.

“What are we going to do with him?” Sam asked as she pointed to the sleeping hobgoblin.

Knight laughed and shook his head. “Leave him to me.” Then he seemed to think better of it and scrutinized each of us. “I’ll give all of you a ride home.”

“You’ve been drinking too,” I pointed out, still not okay with the fact that our evening was coming to an end.

Knight faced me and smiled. “As a Loki, my metabolism is faster than yours. I process alcohol within a couple of hours.”

“Of course!” I said and shook my head. “How could I have thought otherwise?”

Knight didn’t respond but offered me a knowing grin before reaching for Trey and hoisting him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing which just hinted to Knight’s strength because Trey weighs … a lot. I draped my purse over one shoulder and Trey’s man-bag over the other. Then Dia, Sam and I followed Knight out of the club.

Knight reached inside his pants pocket and produced the key to his Beemer, beeping it unlocked as I opened the rear door and watched him deposit Trey, rather unceremoniously, into the backseat. Trey grunted once he hit the seat and then rolled over onto his side, leaving a line of drool across the black leather. I glanced at Knight, who offered me a frown. Then I remembered Dia and the fact that we were a long way from Moon.

“Dia, you can crash at my house if you don’t want to make the drive home,” I suggested.

Dia looked at me and raised one eyebrow before facing Knight and giving him a flirtatious smile. “Girl, the only house I’m crashing at tonight is the sexy Loki’s; otherwise, I’m driving my bootylicious self back home.”

“Is that an invitation?” Knight asked with a grin.

“Honey, I’ve lost track of how many invitations I’ve sent your way. Just goes to show that you’ve got too much fairy on your mind.”

Knight glanced at me and nodded. “You could say that.”

“Oh, God, let’s go,” I said, feeling entirely uncomfortable with all the sexual innuendo.

Knight chuckled as he walked around to the driver’s seat. Sam opened the rear door, pushing Trey out of the way so she could fit beside him. Before I could take a seat, Dia grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to her, leaning in to whisper: “Girl, you make your damned move on that fine man or you are seriously gonna upset my inner diva.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“No, you sure as hell wouldn’t. I know you’re a smart girl, Dulcie O’Neil, so you make a play on that man before he comes to his senses and realizes I’m waiting in the wings.” Then she winked.

I laughed and said nothing more, but gave her a knowing smile when she cocked her eyebrow at me again. After hugging me and saying good-bye, she started for her red Ford Mustang. She got into the driver’s seat, gunned the engine and, with the radio blaring, disappeared into the darkness of Splendor’s city center.

I faced Knight’s BMW again and seated myself, glancing over at him as I did so. He was watching me with a curious look on his face.

“Don’t tell me you have stellar hearing ability too?” I grumbled.

He smiled and turned on the engine. “Okay, I won’t tell you.” Then he motioned to my door, which was still wide open. “Ready?”

I didn’t respond but closed the door and looked back at Sam who was already draped over Trey’s shoulder and sound asleep despite his snoring—something that sounded like a cross between a vacuum struggling with pennies and a chainsaw biting steel. If Trey ever managed to land a girlfriend, I’d be amazed.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Knight asked with a boyish expression.

I smiled, thinking about the evening. I had had fun at times and then there had been that whole Jack situation which hadn’t been fun. But, all in all, I actually felt good about it—it was almost like I now had closure; like somehow I’d had the last word. And that had all been due to Knight.

“I did, thank you again.”

“So seeing your ex didn’t ruin the evening, I hope?” Knight continued. “If I’d known that was going to happen, I’d have just stuck with dinner and drinks.”

“Ah, so your Loki powers don’t include seeing the future?”

Knight chuckled. “Can’t say that they do.” He stopped at a red light and faced me, losing his smile. “Answer my question, Dulce, is everything okay?”

I sighed as I considered it. Was I okay? Somehow, I felt numb to the whole thing—indifferent even. “Yeah,” I said and nodded, almost in surprise at my own admission. “Seeing Jack really wasn’t that terrible. I mean, sure, I would have preferred not to have seen him, but I’m … okay.”

“Good, I was worried.”

“Don’t be worried. I’m good.”

Knight chuckled. “Maybe that’s because you find yourself attracted to a particular Loki?”

I remembered Dia’s parting words about pursuing Knight. The truth of the matter was that I was attracted to Knight, and always had been. Maybe I just needed to run with it, abandon myself. Dulcie O’Neil never abandoned herself to anything and maybe tonight was the night to change that. “That could be why.”

Knight didn’t say anything but continued beaming as if that was really all he wanted to hear—the fact that I was into him. Well, I was into him. On overload.

Before I knew it, we pulled up to Trey’s house and Knight threw me a disarming grin as he put the car in park and undid his seatbelt. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He stepped out and opened Trey’s door, pulling the smaller and fatter man into his arms. Then he lugged Trey over his shoulder and started for the front door. I glanced back at Sam and noticed she was awake and I suddenly wondered how much of Knight’s and my conversation she’d overheard.

“Are we home yet?” she asked groggily.

“Nope, not yet,” I started and not wanting her to get any ideas, added, “and you’re staying at your house tonight.”

Apparently she wasn’t too drunk to get my gist. “Wow, Dulce, you planning on scoring?”

I nodded as I thought about it. “Maybe.”

Sam giggled but quieted once Knight resumed his place behind the wheel. “One down, two to go.”

Five minutes later, we reached Sam’s house and with a quick hug and wink, Sam was safely inside and it was just Knight and me. We drove the ten minutes to my place in silence, just listening to the mindless chatter of the DJ. When Knight pulled in front of my apartment, I suddenly felt nervous, my heartbeat pounding in my chest as my palms went clammy.

“Here we are, Dulce,” he said as he put the car in park.

I nodded and it seemed it took me an eternity to undo my seatbelt and grasp the handles of my purse. I opened the door and was about to step out when I thought better of it.

“Do you, uh, do you want to come in?” Holy Hades, I hadn’t meant to sound so schoolgirl embarrassed.

Knight’s smile was wide as he shook his head. “Not when you’re drunk.”

I felt something crumble inside me. I’m not good at putting myself out there and even less good when it comes to dealing with rejection. “Drunk? I’m really not that drunk,” I said even though I could hear the doubt in my own voice.

“When something happens between you and me, it will be because you want it to happen. Not because you’re under the influence of alcohol or something else.”

I could read into the “something else” he was referring to—Mandrake, an illegal narcotic I’d had the displeasure of becoming addicted to during our last case with the Dreamstalker. And, yes, I’d come onto Knight at the time and, yes, he’d denied me … so this was now denial number two.

“I don’t know what to think when you play the part of a gentleman,” I said with a quick smile, not exactly sure how I felt about the turn of events. He didn’t want to come in and have sex with me but his reasons were admirable … somehow I was okay with that. More than okay with it, actually. I respected him because of it.

“I’m a good guy, Dulcie. One of these days you’re going to realize that and when you do, things are going to be very good between us.”

There really wasn’t anything more to say so I stood up, thinking about retiring to my bed. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I’d forgotten the whole reason I’d agreed to go on this date in the first place.

“So our date is over, what’s with the glowing eyes bit?”

Knight chuckled and shook his head. “The date’s not over.”

I threw my hands on my hips. If there’s something I hate more than anything else, it’s playing games. “Knight, the date is over. You’re dropping me off and going home. You said at the end of our date you would tell me.”

He nodded. “Right, and it’s not the end of our date.”

I sighed deeply. “So when will the end of our date be?”

He shrugged. “I’m picking you up tomorrow morning at nine a.m. sharp so don’t oversleep. Oh, and dress in your riding gear.”

“What?” I demanded. “What riding gear?”

“We’re going to take a little joy ride,” he answered as I realized he meant my motorcycle riding gear. Yep, I must have been pretty drunk because it wasn’t like I was a horse enthusiast ...

“You don’t have a bike?” I asked, feeling the cloud of alcohol starting to descend on my mind. I was tired and I’d have a mean hangover in the morning. Good thing for me that I could heal it with a little fairy dust.

Knight shook his head, still beaming up at me. “Don’t worry about it. Now, before you let all the warm air out of my car, let’s go.”

“Let’s,” I started. “I thought you weren’t coming in?”

He opened his car door and closed it behind him at the same time I did. “It’s impolite not to walk a beautiful woman to her door, Dulcie. And, furthermore, it’s even more impolite not to ensure that beautiful woman’s apartment is safe.”

“You’re really taking this gentleman stuff to extremes,” I said with the beginnings of a small smile that revealed the fact that I liked it when he played this part.

He glanced at me and winked. “Maybe that’s because I am a gentleman?”

I scoffed. “Hardly.”

We reached my front door and I pulled my key out. Once I’d opened the door, Knight sidestepped me and pushed the door wide. As he walked into the living room, the lights came on and it wasn’t like he’d clapped to activate my nonexistent clapper. Nope, this was just another of his Loki abilities …

I followed him into the apartment and closed the door behind me, watching him disappear down the hallway and, I imagine, into my bedroom where he could play the part of protector to ensure no one was hiding out. My yellow Labrador, Blue, pawed at the sliding glass door, wanting to be let in.

“Just a second, boy,” I called out, my attention momentarily arrested by the sight of Knight in the hallway.

“All good?” I asked.

“All good, Dulce.”

I nodded and suddenly felt the incredible desire to kiss him. But I didn’t act on my impulse because I wasn’t sure how he’d take it and I really wasn’t in the mood for denial number three.

He started for the door and paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning to face me. “Good night, Dulcie. Remember tomorrow morning at nine a.m. sharp.”

I didn’t say anything but merely nodded and watched him as he smiled again and ducked out of the door, jogging down my front walkway to his Beemer. I waved to him and watched his sports car disappear down the street before I remembered to let Blue back in.

***

Knight, as usual, was true to his word. The next morning he appeared on my doorstep right at nine a.m. At the sound of the doorbell, I pulled open the door and found him dressed in head to toe riding gear—black with grey etching. The leather clutched his thighs like a second skin and the riding jacket just accentuated his already incredibly broad shoulders. He smiled down at me, gripping his helmet in his hand.

“Love a woman in leather,” he said, shaking his head.

I glanced down at myself and took in my black leather pants and long-sleeved black cotton T-shirt. My riding jacket was still hanging behind the door.

“So where’s your ride?”

Knight stepped aside with a knowing grin and I immediately noticed the sparkling black motorcycle sitting in front of my house.

I sighed—it was all I could think to do. Whatever Knight did, it was always to the utmost. He just didn’t seem happy with mediocrity. “Since when do you like motorcycles?”

Knight smiled boyishly. “Since you started riding one. Figured I needed to keep up with you.”

The only reason I’d purchased a bike was due to the fact that my Jeep Wrangler had been totaled in the situation with the Dreamstalker and I couldn’t afford anything other than a motorcycle. My owning one was due to an economical need, not a need for speed. Apparently, the same couldn’t be said for the Loki.

“Okay, so what is it?” I asked and offered him an encouraging smile. I mean … it WAS a beautiful bike.

He glanced behind him and grinned like a new parent. “Ducati Superbike 1198.”

“Okay, you realize there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to keep up with you on that?” My bike, a Suzuki DL 650, paled in comparison. To begin with, my Suzuki was about half the size of Knight’s Ducati.

Knight didn’t say anything but smiled again—one of those “I know something you don’t know” smirks and fished inside his jacket pocket. Then he handed me a key.

“What’s this?” I demanded.

“The key to your new bike.”

“What?” I started, in shock, first glancing at the key and then Knight’s smug face. “You bought me a motorcycle?”

He shook his head. “The ANC did. You can’t hope to work on Netherworld cases on a bike that may or may not get you where you need to go.” His smile deepened. “Think of this like a company car … only it’s a company bike.”

“It’s true what they say,” I started.

“And what do they say?”

“That the people highest up in a company take the most advantage,” I finished with a self-impressed smile.

Knight frowned and with the slope of his shoulders, looked disappointed. “You can accept the mode of transportation provided by the Netherworld or you can choose to ride your own bike, it’s up to you.” He paused a moment or two. “But, you might at least want to see it.”

I shrugged and he must have taken it as a sign of interest because he turned around and started down my entryway, pausing just beyond the edge of my building. I followed him and that was when I saw it. Sitting a few feet in front of his bike was a smaller one, just as sporty and dangerous but instead of a shiny black, this was deep crimson. And, yes, it was gorgeous.

“What is it?” I asked, in awe.

Knight chuckled, the tone of his laugh victorious. “Ducati Diavel.”

I swallowed hard before facing him again and couldn’t deny the fact that I was always impressed with Knight’s antics. He definitely wasn’t predictable. “How did you manage to get them both here?”

Knight laughed. “Leave it to you to ask the logistics questions. The dealer dropped yours off this morning.” He extended his hand. “Do you want to see it?”

I just nodded and took his hand as he led me outside and, instantly, I was in love. Um, with the bike. It was sleek, with lines that were so sharp, it looked like it could cut you just by sitting on it.

“Wow,” I muttered as Knight chuckled.

“You approve?”

I gulped down my excitement. “Um, it’s beautiful, thank you.” Suddenly remembering myself, I glanced up at him. “I’m not giving up my bike,” I added with a determined expression. “I’ll use this for work-related business only.” He frowned and I continued. “If it’s a company bike, it should be used for company business.”

Knight shrugged. “I guess that’s fair enough.” He paused and then a huge smile lit up his face. “Well, this visit is work-related.”

“Work-related?” I repeated dubiously, crossing my arms against my chest.

He nodded. “We have lots to discuss. Once we get to where we’re going, that is.”

“And where would that be?”

Knight didn’t answer but put his helmet on and started for his bike. I was left with no choice but to follow him. I grabbed my helmet from the chair by my door and locked the door behind me, feeling a little hesitant and unsure about the new motorcycle. Maybe it was too much bike for me?

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he said with a wicked grin as he mounted his bike.

And damn it if he didn’t look like a wet dream come to life. “It’s going to take me a little while to get used to it,” I started, still feeling overwhelmed.

He nodded. “I’ll go slow.” And the wicked smile on his lips told me that was a double entendre if ever I’d heard one.

I didn’t respond but mounted the bike and, putting the key in the ignition, turned it on. The power of the engine was obvious in the way it purred beneath me. This was going to be one hell of a ride. Hopefully I’d arrive in one piece.

“Ready?” Knight called as he peeled into the street and circled, coming up beside me. I could smell the rubber of his tires.

“Show off,” I muttered.

“Come on, Dulce, show me what you’ve got.”

And he was already down the road. I glanced at the bike beneath me and shook my head. What other choice did I have? I revved the engine, said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t kill myself and gunned it.

I met Knight at the end of the street. He smiled at me and took a right so I followed him, speeding to keep up with him. I caught him at the next stop sign.

“Didn’t you say something about going slow?” I yelled.

He shook his head. “I wasn’t talking about driving.”

He gunned the engine, disappearing around a bend in the road as I fought to catch up with him. I wasn’t sure if my bike was as powerful as his—it definitely wasn’t as big so maybe the power wasn’t quite there either. Or maybe I was just making excuses.

Knight paused at the base of Highway Seven, which led up to Giant’s Gorge, a canyon with lots of twists and turns—the perfect course for a bike ride. He glanced back at me and smiled, taking off before I had the chance to discuss our route. This time I wasn’t as reserved. I peeled into the street and easily caught up with him.

For the next ten miles, we rode alongside one another, taking the twists and turns of the road as they came. And I had to admit that the Ducati was an amazing ride—it was incredibly fast and powerful.

We reached the top of the canyon and the paved road became dirt. Knight pulled into the large, flat open space and killed his engine, standing up as he removed his helmet. I followed suit and took my jacket off. I draped the jacket over the bike and left my helmet on the seat as I approached Knight and lost myself in the beauty of the view from Giant’s Gorge. We were so high, I could see the town of Splendor below us, the cars and people appearing as tiny as ants, busily being busy.

“How do you like the bike?” he asked.

I glanced at him and inhaled deeply. I couldn’t help it. Knight is a gorgeous guy but something about him clad in leather, standing next to an incredible street bike was almost too much for me to handle.

“It was really something,” I said, forgetting what I was talking about.

And at that moment, I realized what I intended to do. My needs and wants were clearer to me than they had ever been. I approached Knight, never taking my eyes from his.

“You kept up okay,” he said in a throaty voice, which got huskier the closer I came.

I didn’t respond but stepped up to him and looped my arms around his neck. The surprise in his face was priceless.

“Knight, I’m not drunk or on Mandrake.”

He chuckled deeply. “No, you aren’t.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

Before the last word was out of my mouth, Knight’s mouth was on mine. And his kiss was demanding, hungry, needy. I ran my hands through his hair as his tongue entered my mouth, eagerly meeting my own. I’m not sure how long we kissed, how long my hands caressed his silky hair or how long our tongues mated, but when he pulled away from me, we were both panting.

“That was unexpected,” he said.

There was something inside me that wasn’t satiated, something that was raring to go, and something that wouldn’t be denied. “That isn’t all I want.”

More surprise in Knight’s eyes. “What do you want, Dulcie?” he asked and his voice sounded raspy, gravelly.

I inhaled, asking myself the same question even though I didn’t need to. I knew what I wanted, what I’d wanted since the moment I met Knight. I knew what my body was demanding, what I needed. Him.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated with urgency in his tone.

“I want you,” I said in a small voice, glancing up at him. The lust swimming in his eyes made me feel weak and wobbly in my knees, like I was going to keel over right there.

“Where?” he insisted, grabbing hold of my wrists as he pinned me against his chest. “Where do you want me?”

I swallowed hard, never breaking eye contact. “Inside me.”

And those must have been the magic words because Knight said nothing more but lifted me up and took a few steps before pushing me up against a large boulder. Then his lips were on mine again and his kiss was even deeper, more passionate.

He ground his hips against me and I could feel the obvious stirring of his excitement from between his legs.

“Are you okay with this, Dulce?” he whispered as he trailed a line of kisses down my neck. “Because if you aren’t okay with it, we need to stop now.” He kissed me again and then pulled away, glancing down at me.

“No, don’t stop,” I whispered and arched my back when I felt his hands plying my breasts above my shirt.

“Tell me you’re okay with this.”

He stared at me with the look of ravenous hunger in his eyes and his face was flushed. “I want this, Knight, I want you. I’m more than okay with it.”

He smiled and then his lips were on mine again while his hands explored my breasts, my hair, my face, before pulling me into him.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this, about you saying those words to me,” he said, losing his voice as he buried his face in my cleavage.

I didn’t say anything but allowed him to loop his hands underneath my shirt and pull it up and over my shoulders, revealing my breasts as they strained against my bra which suddenly felt entirely too confining. Knight dropped my shirt on the ground and focused on my breasts, his cheeks flushed. His gaze found mine as he reached around and undid my bra, pulling the straps slowly down my arms as if he wanted to torture me. I felt the sting of the air on my nipples and didn’t have to glance down to know they were standing at attention.

“Beautiful,” Knight said as his gaze settled on my breasts. He plied them with his hands before bending down and taking one nipple captive in his mouth, his tongue teasing. I ran my hands through his hair and dropped my head back, closing my eyes as I enjoyed the flush of excitement and anticipation building up within me.

A moan escaped my mouth and I felt Knight break away from me. I opened my eyes and faced him in confusion.

He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with the exertion. “Dulcie,” he started and then his voice seemed to trail into the distance.

“What?”

“This isn’t just sex for me.”

“It isn’t just sex for …”

“No,” he interrupted me. “You don’t understand. I, hmm …” He glanced down at the ground as if he was trying to find the right words.

“Knight, just tell me.”

He looked up at me again and his eyes were glowing.

“Your eyes,” I started.

“This may not seem like the best time to get into this but before anything more happens, we should … we need to.”

I swallowed, not really sure where this was going but very curious all the same. “Go on.”

Knight looked down at my breasts again and outlined my still alert nipples with the pad of his index finger. Then, before I could take another breath, he hoisted me into his arms and carried me to his bike, where he settled me on the seat.

“To understand everything, I need to explain about my species,” he said and his voice was deep, heavy. He continued to run his fingers in large circles around each of my breasts, toying with my nipples as he did so.

“Okay.”

“The Loki, as you know, is a creature forged from the fire of Hades. Hades is the King of the Dark World.”

“The Dark World?” I repeated, suddenly at a loss.

Knight nodded. “During the creation of the Netherworld, there were various rulers—Hades was the God of the Dark World which lies deep in the center of the Netherworld and is responsible for all creatures that possess incredible strength, power and speed.”

I was glad Knight was explaining everything to me because I’d never been to the Netherworld and all of this was completely foreign to me.

“So, have you seen the Dark World?”

He nodded and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Yes, you could say that. I spent my entire youth and early adulthood there, training.”

“Training for what?”

“The Loki is a soldier, created in Hades’s own image—large, powerful, fast and strong.”

“Sounds like you in a nutshell.”

He nodded. “We are the warriors of the Netherworld, Dulcie. Our mission is to protect and enforce Netherworld law.”

I nodded. “Hence your position with the ANC?”

“Yes,” he started and looked as if he wanted to say more but didn’t. “Technically, all Loki were to remain in the Netherworld and that’s why you never came across one of my species before.”

“But you aren’t in the Netherworld,” I started.

He shook his head. “That’s a story for another time,” he said quickly.

“Okay.”

“So going back to the creation of the Loki warriors,” he started and seemed to lose his train of thought while he watched his fingers circle my breasts. “You are so beautiful,” he said, glancing down at me.

I smiled. “The creation of the Loki warriors?” I prodded.

He chuckled and nodded, picking up where he left off. “As the warrior class, reproduction is a vital and complicated subject for us.” His voice trailed off and he dropped his attention to his feet and took a deep breath. “Sex with me won’t be what you’re used to.”

“Why?”

“Because I will want to claim you.”

“What?” I started. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means that …” he dropped his attention to my breasts again and stopped touching them. His eyes found mine and he continued. “My eyes glow, Dulcie, because my body has identified you as my mate.”

“What?” It was all I could think to say.

“I was surprised when it happened as well.” He took a deep breath. “I always knew I was attracted to you, well, really, that you drove me to complete insanity.” He chuckled and I just raised an unimpressed brow as he continued. “But it goes much deeper than that. It’s not a conscious decision. I’m wired to reproduce with a woman who can tolerate my seed, Dulcie. She must be physically strong enough.”

“Um, no offense but I’m not interested in having kids anytime soon.” Truth be told, I wasn’t convinced I ever wanted kids. It seemed like I’d missed the line where God was handing out maternal instinct.

He chuckled again and shook his head. “Neither am I.”

“So why are you telling me this?”

“So you’ll understand my biology, my genetic makeup, why I am the way I am.”

Loki Biology 101 aside, this whole sex conversation was sort of tripping me up. “Okay, going back to this sex thing, you can’t tell me you haven’t had sex with other women before?”

He shook his head. “Of course I’ve had sex with other women, but not at the same level that you and I would.”

“Why? How does that work?”

He exhaled deeply. “With other women, I’m basically infertile. I can only procreate with the … right woman.”

I shook my head, trying to come to terms with what he was saying. “So if you and I have sex …”

“We could protect against you getting pregnant.”

“We could?” I demanded. “Because, like I said, I’m not ready for Loki juniors anytime soon.”

He laughed. “And I said the same, Dulcie. Yes, human contraception works on me too.”

This was the strangest conversation I’d had in a long time but luckily for me, I was still on the pill. Why, you might ask considering my sex life had been non-existent for the past couple of years? Because I liked having short periods. And maybe I was hopeful that my sex life would someday pick up …

But back to the fact that Knight wasn’t farming for a wife and children … “Amen to that,” I said with a smile.

THREE

Granted, I was interested in knowing Knight’s history—why he was the way he was and why his eyes glowed but his timing sort of sucked, for lack of a better word. I mean, I guess he had to tell me about the whole sexual bit before we got too hot and heavy and he “claimed” me without me being aware of it. And, depending on what that claiming thing meant, maybe it would have seriously freaked me out? Especially if I hadn’t been prepared for it. As it was now, I was still sort of freaked out but more in an anxious and excited sort of way. I had the feeling that sex with Knight would be like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

“So going back to the part about you wanting to ‘claim’ me, as you called it, what the hell does that mean?” I asked, trying not to lose myself in the fact that his fingers were caressing each of my breasts. “I mean, the last thing I need to deal with is you turning all caveman on me.”

He nodded and cocked his head to the side as if to say he was contemplating my words. It wasn’t exactly the response I’d been hoping for. I’d hoped for something more along the lines of: no jealousy, no possessiveness and definitely no loincloths or clubs.

“I might be a bit possessive and possibly jealous,” he admitted.

“Might be?”

He shrugged. “It’s never happened to me before. This would be a first. Who knows, maybe I’ll be just as awesome as I always am.” Then he laughed.

I shook my head before my thoughts returned to this newest bombshell he’d dropped into my lap. Why could nothing in my life be simple? “So how do you know all this if you’ve never experienced it?”

“I’ve talked to Loki men who have.”

He trailed his index finger over my nipple and down the side of my breast, continuing his descent to my stomach until he reached the waist of my leather pants. Staring at me, and never taking his eyes from mine, he undid my button and unzipped my fly. I stilled his hand before he could undress me any further.

“So we’re in unchartered territory here?” I asked in a small voice—a voice that was currently choking on the frog lodged in my throat.

“Looks that way, yes,” he answered and moved his eyes down the line of my body to where my red lace panties peeked out from underneath my pants. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head, outlining the lace as he did so. “Could you be any sexier?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question so said nothing; although I must admit I definitely enjoyed the fact that Knight appeared to be so into me. I mean, come on, how could I not? But, really, my focus needed to be on this subject of “claiming” me, as he termed it. I needed to understand what that meant in order to make a decision as to whether or not I was okay with it. “So if we do this, what are you going to want from me?”

“A relationship.” Knight’s answer was immediate. He didn’t even have to think about it.

At his words, something inside me cracked and I felt warmth spreading through me. It was like Knight had just slammed a sledgehammer into the bulwark of my emotional defenses, attempting to break down the wall I’d been working so hard to erect over the past few years. But while I could definitely feel the beginnings of panic welling up from within me, there was also a feeling of pleasure, of gratitude to Knight. I didn’t want to continue living the way I had been. I wanted to experience love again. But, aside from those rosy feelings, I also didn’t want to go into anything blindly and I needed to understand what I could be getting myself into.

“I don’t want a jealous, overbearing and possessive man on my hands.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

“If that happens, can you control it?”

“I’d like to think so.” Then he paused for a few seconds, studying me. “Sounds like you’re okay with the relationship part?”

I shrugged. I guess I was okay with the relationship part. I mean, it hadn’t freaked me out … that much. And I did still have that warm and fuzzy feeling … I nodded even though I was surprised by my own admission. “Yeah, I, uh, I think I could handle that.”

Knight smiled broadly. “Wow, listen to you … willing to get back up on that steed again?”

I started to nod but then something occurred to me. Something that probably wasn’t going to be the greatest subject to broach, but one I wanted to, no needed to, all the same. “Knight, if your body considers me to be your … mate … what if things don’t work out between us?” Just call me the cynic, I guess.

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t things work out between us?”

I shrugged. “I’m playing the part of devil’s advocate. What if we dated and just decided we weren’t well matched?” I paused for a few seconds. “I guess what I’m asking is … is there a way out of this mate business should we need one?”

He studied my face for a few seconds, his expression not giving away his thoughts. “Yes, there is.”

I smiled and felt a little uncomfortable, like maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the negative. But then I chided myself—I was not the type of person who went into anything blindly. I needed to know where my escape routes were should I ever need them. And, apparently, in matters of the heart, I was no different.

“It’s okay, Dulce,” Knight said with a smile.

“Okay?”

“It’s just who you are.” I realized he was talking about the fact that I was considering this subject from all possible angles. “And because you weigh the pros with the cons, you’re great at your job as a Regulator.” His smiled broadened. “And it’s also one of the reasons I like you so much.”

Maybe it was the way he said it, maybe it was the words themselves, but his comment flipped a switch in me—it flipped me into the position of extremely turned on. I didn’t respond but clutched the back of his neck and forced my mouth on his, wanting nothing more than to feel his tongue lapping at mine.

A few minutes later, he pulled away and merely gazed down at me as he ran his fingers through my hair, pushing an errant tendril back behind my ear. “Does this mean you’ve made a decision?” he asked.

I thought about it. The pros: I liked Knight … a lot. I wanted him and I always had. And somewhere inside me I knew we’d be good together. I trusted him. The cons: maybe he’d be jealous and possessive but, then again, maybe he wouldn’t.

The pros definitely outweighed the cons.

I nodded as I glanced up at him. “Yes, I’ve made my decision.”

Knight’s hands continued palpating my breasts as he spread my legs, pushing himself into the V of my thighs. “And?”

“I want to be with you, Knight,” I said in a wispy, breathless voice.

He didn’t say anything but his smile spoke volumes. He glanced down at his body which was still wedged between my legs and began grinding against me, teasing me mercilessly.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked, feeling bliss as it spread from my core through my entire body. Holy Hades, did I want him.

He chuckled and shook his head and, before I could take another breath, he lifted me from the Ducati and carried me a few paces before gently placing me on the ground. He took off his jacket and laid it out like it was a picnic blanket right beside me, making me laugh. I mean, why settle for an impromptu leather jacket-blanket since I was a fairy and had a little something called magic? I balled my left hand into a fist and shook it a few times until the tell-tale signs of fairy dust began slipping out from the cracks. Then I closed my eyes, imagined a large, thick blanket and released my magic, which spilled like glitter against the dirt, only to immediately create the exact blanket I’d just visualized.

“Impressive,” Knight said with a smile.

I didn’t respond but allowed him to lift me and place me on top of the blanket, as he pulled my pants down the swells of my thighs and let them fall around my ankles. He pushed on my shoulders as if to say he wanted me in a reclining position so I acquiesced, sitting down and stretching my legs out before me. He never took his eyes from mine as he leaned over me, his fingers finding my panties again. He started rubbing me up and down above the lace. I arched back and closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than to focus on the strength of his fingers as they massaged me. He slipped my panties to the side and then his finger was on me, rubbing me back and forth as I bucked beneath him.

“There now,” he said with a raspy voice.

“Give me more,” I whispered.

He chuckled. “What was that, Dulce, I couldn’t quite hear you?”

I opened my eyes but said nothing, and simply grabbed his finger, forcing it inside me. The shock and hunger in his eyes was reward enough. I released my grasp and allowed him to penetrate me with two fingers, letting him build his own rhythm as I leaned back and enjoyed it. He pulled his fingers out and I felt him toying with my pants, releasing them from around my ankles. I stabilized myself on my elbows and watched him as he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a chest to which I’ve never seen the equal. Muscles landscaped his chest and his tan skin contrasted against the light dusting of dark hair, which adorned his lower stomach, vanishing beneath his belt line.

“You are stunning,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “I’m nothing compared to you.”

I could argue that point but wasn’t going to waste my time. Instead, I wanted to see what was under his pants. “Take it all off.”

He offered me a cock-eyed expression and a smirk but shrugged and undid his pants, pulling both his boxers and leathers down his sculpted thighs. But it wasn’t his thighs that captivated me. Nope, that honor was reserved for his penis, which was, in a word … beautiful. It was long and thick, longer and thicker than any I’d ever seen before and there was a part of me that cringed in trepidation at the mere thought of playing host to such a … Titan.

“Wow,” I said in disbelief, never pulling my eyes from him.

He chuckled. “Another Loki trait.”

He laid back down next to me and pinned one of my legs between his as he started running his hands down my body again.

“Where were we?” he asked as he bent down to kiss me and his fingers found the junction of my thighs. “Ah, I was going to taste you,” he answered his own question.

I didn’t even get the chance to consider his statement before his head was between my thighs and his tongue was lapping at me with long, forceful strokes. I strained against him, lost in the bliss of his mouth and felt an orgasm seize me from the very core of my body. I shook against him and he grasped my thighs, steadying me. But he didn’t break the seal of his tongue; if anything he was more forceful, more demanding.

“Knight, I need you now,” I groaned.

He pulled his head up and smiled at me. “How bad?”

“Bad.”

He cleared his throat and faced me again with a wicked smile as I watched him shift himself until he was directly above me, supported by his hands. I leaned back against the blanket, preparing myself for his entry. He lowered himself down and that was when I felt the head of him pushing against me, just enough to allow an explosion of butterflies in my stomach. He pushed forward and I felt myself stretching to accommodate him.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

I just nodded as I continued to thrive on the sensations of him as he entered me—something between incredible pleasure with just a trace of pain. It had been a long ass time since I’d had sex and my body was making that clearly evident.

He still wasn’t all the way inside me and was going so slowly, it seemed like it might take him all day to finally arrive. “Just do it,” I said, bracing myself.

And so he did. He pushed and filled me. As soon as the entirety of him was ensconced inside me, I felt the beginnings of an orgasm rain down within me. I gripped his shoulders and moaned out as the orgasm overtook me, all the while amazed by the fact that I’d just had one so quickly. Usually, it took at least fifteen minutes … Usually, just at the time I was about to climax, Jack had already finished and was on his way to dreamland.

But the last person I wanted to think about now was Jack. Not while I was with the most beautiful, arresting and sexy man I’d ever met. No, I didn’t want to spare another thought for my ex-boyfriend. It almost seemed sacrilegious.

“Did you,” Knight started as he glanced down at me with a smile.

“Um, yes,” I said somewhat sheepishly.

He chuckled. “That was fast.” He continued to push inside me, his eyes never straying from mine and that smile still firmly in place. “Are you ready for another one?”

I swallowed hard. No point in lying. “Yes.”

As I watched him, the intense blue of his eyes began to give way to a subtle glow, a white light that seemed to eclipse the entirety of his eyes.

“Your eyes,” I said in awe.

Knight smiled but said nothing because there really wasn’t anything to say. We both knew what was happening. He was claiming me, making me his. And the thought made me giddy inside.

He started pushing harder, faster and I wrapped my legs around his middle, thinking sex had never been this arousing before. I could feel myself teetering on the brink of another orgasm as my body suddenly began to spasm, my legs shaking.

“Knight,” I started, suddenly feeling frightened.

“It’s okay,” he crooned in my ear. “Don’t fight it. It’s your body reacting to mine.”

I exhaled my pent-up breath and closed my eyes, allowing my body its response. I tightened my thighs around his waist as he grasped me by the hips and held me at an angle, plunging into me as deeply as he could.

That was all it took. I could hear my screams as another orgasm took control of my body. With a chuckle, he allowed my hips to touch the blanket again and I opened my eyes to find him studying me. Our gazes locked as his body pulsated within mine, erotic and sensual.

He pushed into me as deeply as he could and then began grinding his pelvis against me, his penis as far inside me as it could be. I grasped his shoulders and dug my nails into his back even as I realized I could have been hurting him.

“Sorry,” I started.

“No,” he interrupted as he gazed down at me. “I like it.”

Smiling, I increased the pressure of my grip and allowed myself to get lost in the feel of him up to my hilt as he continued to grind against me, rubbing that soft nub that sent me into another round of orgasms. I closed my eyes and thrust my hips upward, screaming out his name as I erupted into my own state of bliss.

“I love listening to you,” he whispered and started kissing my neck as he began pulling out and pushing back into me again. The grinding bit had merely been for my own benefit—Knight was a generous lover.

“That was amazing,” I said, still breathless. “No one’s ever done that to me before.”

He smiled and I could see the pride in his eyes. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

But suddenly I wanted nothing more than to witness his own surrender, to watch him as he used my body to reach his own blissful euphoria. I wanted to watch him orgasm, wanted to watch his face, feel him. “It’s your turn,” I said.

He nodded but said nothing more. Course, he didn’t really need to—his body was doing all the communicating. He pushed inside me and then started a quick rhythm, going faster and harder and deeper. All the while, his eyes were shut tight and small moans escaped his lips. At the point at which I thought I could no longer handle him, he pushed one last time, his eyes glowing all the while, and then collapsed against my chest, panting with exertion.

I wrapped my arms around him and played with the hair at the nape of his neck, running my hands through the thick, silky locks. “Wow,” I said with a smile.

He pulled up until he was on his elbows and smiled at me in return. “Wow, huh?”

“That wasn’t quite as I imagined it would be.”

His smile faltered. “Oh?”

I patted his back. “In a good way, Knight. I, uh, I’ve never come so many times before.”

“Really?” There was that look of accomplishment, of pride on his face again. “Then you don’t regret it?”

“Regret it?” I asked in shock. “How and why would I regret it?”

He chuckled. “I’ll ask you tomorrow.”

Even though he was laughing, I realized he was partly serious. And you know what they say about jokes—that they always contain an underlying element of truth. But jokes and truth aside, what it came down to was that I didn’t want Knight to think I regretted being with him. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I know you too well and I know that once you’re alone, you’ll start thinking and, invariably, you’ll put up those walls of yours that I’ve just fought so hard to tear down.”

While it sounded like he had my general behavioral patterns down pat, it was merely a generalization. Yes, I was like that with most subjects, but I wasn’t about to let him think the same thing would happen in this case. “Knight,” I started. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Well, if it does, just talk yourself down. Or better yet, call me and I’ll remind you why we’re good together.”

“Okay,” I said with a laugh as I allowed him to kiss me.

***

Five hours later, I sat at my desk in my humble apartment, staring at the blinking cursor of my word document. So far, I’d managed to type:

The Vampire Raven, Book Two of A Vampire and a Gentleman series by Dulcie O’Neil

Yes, I had aspirations to be a writer—not just a hobbyist writer, but a full-fledged, career author who penned novels. I’d finished my first book, A Vampire and a Gentleman, which had been based on the exploits of my “friend” and vampire, Bram. That book had actually garnered the attention of the leading agent in paranormal romance, Barbara Mandley, from Great Fiction Agency and, even more amazingly, she loved the book and offered me representation a few days later.

Owing to my last case, when I nearly succumbed to a Dreamstalker (a goblin who hunted and killed his victims during sleep), I never had a chance to respond to Barbara. But, now I did have the time. And, based on the fact that it appeared my creative skills hadn’t yet announced themselves, maybe an e-mail to Barbara was exactly what I needed to focus on.

Pulling up Firefox, I logged into my Yahoo e-mail account and, finding Barbara’s e-mail address, quickly replied, typing:

Dear Barbara,

Thank you very much for offering to represent my book and me. I’m very excited to accept your offer of representation. Please advise what next steps will entail.

Sincerely,

Dulcie O’Neil

I sat back in my seat and rocked forward, thinking about the fact that I was about to embark on a career path very different from law enforcement. And it wasn’t a feeling that was entirely joyful. The truth of the matter was that I loved my position as Regulator and, even now, I enjoyed my job of consultant Regulator to the ANC and to Knight. I’d been in law enforcement for the majority of my adult life and my identity really was wrapped up in my work—being a Regulator had shaped me; it had taught me how to be tough, how to survive and what was important in life. It defined me—in my blood, in my veins. It was me.

But would the life of a writer allow me to continue in my role of consultant Regulator? I mean, with book deadlines, marketing and signings, would I have the time to continue in law enforcement?

It was interesting, but this was the first time I’d actually considered any of this. I mean, it’s not as though I’d ever come close to seeing the fruition of my dream of becoming a writer in the past. But, now, with Barbara endorsing me, I couldn’t help but imagine all the publishing houses going into a tailspin to try and acquire the rights to my book. I mean, Barbara had to know what was hot and what would sell, right?

Yes, I was firmly convinced that if my writing career took off, I would have to step down from the ANC … and from Knight. And while I was concerned about how Knight would take the news, I was more concerned about how I would take it. Would it change me as a person? Would I get bored? Would my creative juices dry up? How would I handle deadlines? How would I deal with the loneliness of being an author?

I exhaled and realized my heart was pounding.

“You don’t have to think about this now, Dulce,” I announced out loud and to no one, suddenly thinking it was very strange that I was talking to myself.

The phone rang and I welcomed the interruption, since this latest realization completely depressed me. I reached for the receiver and brought it to my face.

“Hello?”

“Sooooo?” Sam asked expectantly.

“So what?” I repeated, pleased to hear her voice on the other end. Whenever I had a problem, Sam could always talk me through it.

She sighed. “So, did Knight hit the homerun?”

I laughed. “Um … yeah, I guess you could say he did.”

Sam squealed and, at the thought of Knight hitting his homerun, I could feel my cheeks beginning to color.

“So, spill the details, girl!”

So I did. I told her about my multiple orgasms, about how incredibly hot and passionate Knight was as a lover and how his eyes had glowed.

“Wow, so you guys are like in a relationship then?” Sam asked.

I was quiet as I considered her question. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“And are you okay with it or have you freaked out yet?”

I shook my head. Why did everyone think I was going to freak out? I was a grown woman, for Hades sake! And it wasn’t like I’d never been in a relationship before … As soon as that thought left my head, I realized I was trying to deceive myself. It made complete and total sense that everyone thought I was going to freak out because, when it came to relationships in general, that was what I did—freak out.

“I’m fine with it, Sam. I mean, it wasn’t like he blindsided me and forced me into something. It was my decision, remember? I’m the one who said I was good with it. I’m the one who said I wanted it.”

“Okay, good, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t having an episode. Because if you were freaking out or if you’re about to freak out, I’d remind you of all the good things about Knight … like, um, how insanely hot he is, how smart he is, um, how much he likes you, um, that he’s super funny and that he puts up with Trey at work all day.” She giggled. “He’s actually a really nice guy, Dulcie.”

I got her gist. She still thought I was in the process of freaking out or getting close to it. “I’m fine, Sam.”

As I said the words, I thought about them. Somehow, I was fine with everything. I didn’t have the feelings of panic that usually accompanied thoughts of entering into a relationship. I didn’t have heart palpitations or the feeling that I couldn’t breathe. Somehow, and I had no idea how, I was okay with everything. And, yes, I was slightly surprised by myself. Okay, the truth was it amazed me.

“Wow,” Sam said.

“I know, pretty crazy, huh?”

She laughed. “Just goes to show that when you find the right one, you just know it.”

The right one. Wow, maybe I had found the right one. Maybe Knight was truly the guy for me? The thought caused a flurry of butterflies in my stomach and my body suddenly ached for him. I wanted nothing more than to see his boyish smile, feel his big arms around me, smell that spicy scent that characterized him.

I missed him.

“Dulce?” Sam asked and I realized I’d completely lost track of our conversation. “You still there?”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just sort of floored by this whole thing.”

She giggled. “Just go with it. I’ve been waiting for this to happen to you for a long ass time.” She was silent for a few seconds. “I’m really happy for you, Dulce.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Sam. I, uh, I’m really happy for me too.”

And it was the truth.

FOUR

It was the day after Knight and I had sex and I couldn’t wait to see him again. In fact, I tried to keep myself preoccupied all day with mindless things like taking my dog out for a very long run, going to the grocery store, washing the Ducati and tidying up the apartment. Anything to stop thinking about Knight and how incredible our sex had been. None of those diversions worked, however … Knight was on my mind and then some.

Now it might sound strange that I didn’t pick up the phone to call him considering he was all I could think about. But really, I hadn’t been in a relationship in such a long time, I couldn’t remember what the rules were, or if there were any rules at all. I definitely didn’t want Knight to think I was needy or possessive. And I didn’t want to think I was needy or possessive. But would a phone call have been considered needy or possessive? No, probably not. Of course, it had only been one night and one day since we’d last seen one another. And wasn’t there some rule about waiting two days to call or was that to return a call? Or maybe that was if you weren’t yet in a relationship? Holy Hades, this stuff was going to be the death of me.

What it came down to was that I didn’t want to change who I was. Being in a relationship should in no way, shape or form change me, I repeated to myself. I’d just continue living my life in the same manner I always had. Just because I was now having intense sex with Knight and it would be an ongoing thing (Woo Hoo!) didn’t mean that I had to act or be any different. No, I was still the same headstrong, stubborn and emotionally calm Dulcie I always had been, right?

Then why in the hell did I feel like this? Why could I not stop thinking about the sexy-as-hell Loki? Why did I keep replaying the events from the day before? Why could I not concentrate on anything other than remembering his eyes as he pushed inside me for the first time?

My cell phone rang and I lurched for it, not even realizing why I felt so frantic. This just wasn’t like me. Reading Knight’s name on the Caller ID caused a flurry of excitement in my stomach and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to kick myself or do a happy dance.

Thankfully, I managed to restrain myself from doing either.

“Hi,” I said, the tone of my voice belying the fact that I was happy to hear from him.

“Hi, sexy.”

I giggled and felt like shooting myself. “What’s up?” I asked after clearing my throat to ensure the giggle was dead.

“How are you … feeling about things?”

“Feeling about things? What do you mean?” I asked, although I couldn’t really say my focus was on the conversation. Instead, I tried to beat down the decidedly girly feelings that had suddenly welled up within me like a bad chick flick.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was good, that you didn’t regret what we did yesterday?”

Ah, how was I feeling about those things … Now we were on the same wavelength. “I don’t regret anything, Knight.”

I could hear him exhale his relief. “Thank Hades for that,” he said with a chuckle and then paused for three seconds. Not that I was counting ... “I, uh, I was thinking about you, Dulce. Missing you, really.”

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Is that so?”

“Yep, and I was wondering what you’re up to tonight?”

I felt heat color my cheeks and those girly feelings were now in complete control of my body. The strong and reliable side of me wanted to vomit. “I don’t have any plans.”

“Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

“Good because I wasn’t sure how I was going to go to sleep tonight without at least kissing those beautiful lips of yours.”

I giggled again. Dammit.

“Pick you up at seven for dinner?” he asked, his chuckle revealing his extreme amusement at my giggle. Double dammit.

“Sure,” I answered. Then, not wanting to leave him out in the cold, I quickly added, “I, um, I missed you too, Knight.”

He took a few moments to respond. “I like hearing that.”

And, truthfully, I liked saying it.

***

When I heard a knock on my front door at twenty minutes to seven, I was surprised to find Knight was early. And, I’ll admit it, I was also happy. I mean, I’d finished getting ready long before and was just sitting around my living room, trying to kill time.

I stood up, completely not okay with the fact that my nerves were on full steam ahead. This was the part about being in a relationship that I didn’t like—the fact that I felt anxious all the time and jittery, like I’d just downed a full pot of coffee. I glanced down at myself, running my hands across my short black skirt. It was so short, in fact, that I couldn’t bend over. My legs were bare and I opted for black four-inch wedge heels. On top, I was wearing a plunging red halter top with my Wonderbra so my C cup boobs looked like DDs. I mean, it was silly really because Knight already knew what he was getting and DDs weren’t on the list.

My hair was down as usual since I’m not exactly thrilled with my pointy ears but I put some extra time into my makeup. I chose to go with a smoky eye, rosy cheeks and a high gloss red lipstick. I’m not a vain person but I looked pretty damn great, if I do say so myself.

I took the few steps to the front door and inhaled a deep breath as I pulled open the door, excited for Knight’s reaction. But, what I got wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting …

“Jack?” my voice barely made it out of my throat. “What the fu …”

“Dulcie,” he interrupted, his eyes widening as his gaze settled on my bust for a good three seconds and then moved down to my legs. I’m not sure how long it took him to work his way back up to my face. Asshole.

“What do you want and why are you here?” I demanded in a less than friendly voice.few minutes

He brought his eyes back up to mine and they were heavy with lust. He flaunted that know-it-all smile of his and ran his hand through his hair. He was very handsome. I couldn’t deny it—it was a fact. And there was something inside me that wanted to remember how things had been between us, something that wanted to focus on the happy times but I wouldn’t allow it to take control of me. I was over Jack. Jack was history and Knight was my future.

“I came to talk,” he offered.

“I’m busy and I don’t have time to talk to you.” I started to close the door, as if charading that he wasn’t welcome anywhere near me but he merely stepped forward and blocked my attempt. Guess he wasn’t good at taking hints.

“Please, I’ll just take a few minutes of your time.” He looked me up and down again. “It’s pretty obvious you have plans.”

“Yeah, I do,” I quickly added, not wanting to encourage him at all. It was good that he was aware I had plans—even better that he realized he hadn’t scarred me for life—that I’d moved on. He nodded and dropped his gaze, as if my plans were causing him some sort of inner turmoil.

“What do you want, Jack?”

He sighed and, looking up at me, immediately glanced away for what appeared to be dramatic effect. “I … I need your help.”

“My help?” I asked dubiously, crossing my arms against my chest and exhaling my frustration. “What the hell could you possibly need my help for?”

“Can I come in?” He actually took a step forward without waiting for my permission.

“No.”

“Please, Dulce, just for a few minutes?”

“Don’t call me Dulce. It’s Dulcie.”

“Please?” he asked and frowned.

I’m not sure why I did it but I stepped aside and allowed him to enter. Seeing him in my apartment again flipped something in me, some latent memory that I’d locked away. All of a sudden, it was as if time had rewound and we were back to the old days, when we were in love, or at least, I was in love with him. Whether he had genuinely cared for me was anyone’s guess. I started to close the front door behind me but, thinking better of it, decided to leave it open. Why, I wasn’t sure but I felt more comfortable knowing the door was open and that I could tell him to leave any second.

Truth be told, I still wasn’t sure why I’d even allowed him inside. I had nothing to say to him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d asked for my help. I guess I had a hard time denying people who needed me? Or maybe I was just reaching …

“Okay, what the hell do you need my help with?” I demanded, my hands on my hips. I was angry, yes, but whether I was angrier with him or with myself for allowing him to even talk to me, I didn’t know.

He walked into my living room and glanced around, as if wanting to make sure everything still looked the same as it had two years ago. It did.

He faced me again and smiled. “You really look amazing, beautiful.”

“Cut the crap.”

“I was thinking the same thing when I saw you at Bliss,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me or just didn’t care. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Why are you here, Jack?”

He glanced away and then, as if noticing the couch for the first time, walked up to it and didn’t wait for permission but sat down, making himself at home. I’d give him two minutes to tell me why he needed my help and then he was out of here. And hopefully whatever help he needed could be referred to the ANC because I wasn’t about to take on any cases where Jack was concerned.

“I need your help because I made a huge mistake.”

“A mistake?”

He nodded and stretched his arms out against the couch back, leaning back as if he belonged there. “Yes.”

“And when do you plan to inform me what that mistake was?” I cleared my throat. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what your problem is.”

He leaned forward and sighed before glancing up at me again. “My mistake was that I let you go.”

“Oh, for fuck sake,” I started as I neared the door, feeling anger welling up inside me. I was a total moron to think that Jack had legitimately come to me with some sort of problem. I was a total dumbass for ever believing he could be civilized about anything. “You can leave now.”

He stood up but didn’t look concerned. “Please, Dulcie …”

“No, don’t ‘please’ me, you asshole. It’s ridiculous that you came down here and gave me some stupid sob story about making a mistake and needing my help when you’re just here for your own selfish needs.” I took a deep breath but I wasn’t quite finished laying into him. Not yet. “And that stupid apology of yours? Yeah, it’s about two years too late.”

“I thought you might take it that way …”

“Then you should have listened to yourself and talked yourself out of coming here because you’re wasting your time.” Then I remembered Knight and the fact that he was due to arrive any minute. And that wasn’t a situation that sounded in any way good. “I’m with someone else now, Jack.”

“I know,” he said as he dropped his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want you to end up with some asshole when it’s me you should be with.” He paused again. If I had fifty cents for every time he paused, I’d probably have five dollars by now. “I had to let you know how I felt,” he finished.

I couldn’t even believe I was still standing here listening to this bullshit. “Well, you’ve had your say so you can leave now and live the rest of your life in peace, knowing you finally said whatever it was you wanted to say.”

“I’m being serious, Dulcie.”

“So am I.”

He took a few steps closer to me but made no motion to leave. He reached out, as if he were going to touch my cheek, but I pulled away. “We were good together.”

My jaw was tight. “You cheated on me.”

“It’s something I’ve regretted all this time.”

I snickered and it was an ugly sound. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, because it’s the truth.”

I shook my head and laughed acidly. Did he really think I was buying this total crap? That I was so stupid to succumb to this trite bullshit? Did this work on other women? It must have. And speaking of other women, an image of the southern belle he’d been with at Bliss dropped into my head like a bomb. “I’m sure your southern Amazon would like to hear you say that.”

He wore his confusion. “My southern Amazon?”

“That woman you were with the other night at Bliss,” I said hurriedly, waving my hand in front of me dismissively.

“We’re through,” he said and sighed dramatically. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Dulcie. I couldn’t be serious about her. I don’t love her.”

As if he’d ever loved me. As if he’d ever loved anyone …

“You don’t love anyone but yourself,” I said snidely and glanced at the clock on my wall, realizing the seconds were ticking by and Knight would be arriving soon. Jack needed to vacate the premises immediately because I didn’t want Knight to see him here—it would take too much explaining and it would look bad. “You need to leave, Jack.”

“I just want you to hear me out.”

“I have.”

“But you aren’t listening.”

He was really starting to upset me because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I am listening. You’re just pissed off because I’m not falling for your bullshit.”

I wasn’t prepared when he moved toward me and pushed me against the wall of my living room. I tripped over my heels and had to stabilize myself against his chest which only fueled his fire because before I knew it, his mouth was on mine. His kiss was sloppy, urgent and he was desperately trying to pry my lips open with his tongue. I pushed against him furiously, but he kept me pinned to the wall, his hands now on my breasts. I turned my head and broke away from him and tried to free my hands but he held them at my sides as he stared down at me.

“Get the fuck out of my house, you son of a bitch,” I seethed.

“I know you want me, Dulcie. And I want you. It can be good like it was before.”

“It was never good and I never want to go back.” I glanced down at my left hand, wondering if I could get enough movement to shake my fist for some fairy dust. But then I remembered the ANC mantra that I wouldn’t use magic against a human. Dammit. I glanced up at him again and narrowed my eyes. “I can’t stand you.”

“Tell me you can’t stand me again, Dulcie,” he said, confusing me, but once I felt his fingers underneath my skirt, inching up my thigh, I got his gist.

“Get away from me!” I screamed and bucked against him, suddenly feeling afraid. Jack had never been the violent sort and had never forced himself on me in the past but I had to wonder if the rules had changed. He just seemed so determined. I tried to calm myself down; then I thought about reasoning with him. When I spoke, my voice was sharp but low. “You could go to jail for this, Jack. I’m an officer of the law.”

“Are you really going to report me, Dulcie?” he asked, the look on his face saying he didn’t believe I would—not by a long shot.

“You just made a big fucking mistake.” It was Knight’s voice and I felt my stomach drop. That bad situation I’d been worried about earlier was about to make itself known and judging by the fury on Knight’s face, it was about to make itself known in a big way.

In less time than it takes to blink, Knight had Jack by the back of the neck and with one pull, yanked him away from me. Jack’s eyes went wide and before he or I could guess what was going to happen next, Knight impelled his fist into Jack’s face. The smaller man flew backward with the force of Knight’s blow and landed on the floor.

“Didn’t you hear her say no, you son of a bitch?” Knight fumed, his chest rising and falling with his elevated breathing.

Jack wasn’t a small man. Compared to Knight he was small but he wasn’t used to losing a fight and I could see the anger erupting inside him. He wasn’t going to back down—I could read as much in his narrowed eyes and tight jaw.

“This is between Dulcie and me,” he spat out as he got to his feet and glared at Knight.

“I want you to leave, Jack,” I yelled at him, fear spiraling within me as I considered how bad this situation could get. Knight couldn’t afford to get into a fight—not while he was the head of the ANC. And a fight with a human would be even more problematic. Not to mention the fact that he could do major damage to Jack and, although I believed Jack deserved it, I don’t like fights.

“The only person who needs to leave is you,” Jack yelled at Knight at the same time that he cocked his arm backwards and allowed his fist to unfurl against Knight’s face. Knight’s head bobbed slightly but it didn’t appear that the impact had done much to him. Instead, his eyes began to glow but not in the way they had when I witnessed them earlier. This time the glow somehow hinted at Knight’s anger or maybe I was just getting that from the fact that he looked like he was irate, his face red and his eyes narrowed.

Jack looked at him in shock. “What the hell are you?”

But I didn’t give Knight the chance to respond. Instead, I was too worried about what he was going to do to Jack. “Knight,” I warned. “He isn’t worth it.”

Jack faced Knight and smiled in an ugly way. “You backing down? Think your tough shit but maybe you aren’t so tough?”

“Knight,” I said again, watching him as he battled with himself over whether or not to teach Jack the ultimate lesson. But he had to realize it wasn’t worth it. Not when it could mean his entire career? Knight dropped his fists and stood up tall, exhaling as he did so. I could feel relief coursing through me, easing the stiffness of my composure.

“Fucking coward,” Jack said and snickered as he shook his head.

“He could kill you, you moron,” I shouted at him, watching Knight to ensure he wasn’t going to lunge at Jack. He appeared to have his temper under control. Point for him.

Jack faced me and smiled but it was laced with venom. “Let him try.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Knight said, his voice strained. “I’m giving you one last chance.”

Jack laughed this time, like the whole thing was just a big joke. “Dulcie and I go way back, asshole. This is about us, not you.”

“I’m warning you,” Knight was shaking with anger.

“Knight, let me handle this,” I said, suddenly afraid for what a Loki temper entailed. Especially given the fact that he and I were now romantically involved—somehow it seemed like that fact alone had escalated this whole situation into something that resembled a time bomb. I took a few steps until I was standing directly between them. Then I faced Jack. “Jack, you aren’t welcome here. I don’t know what more I can say to get through your thick skull. I don’t want anything to do with you. So just save yourself from further embarrassment and leave.”

It was like Jack didn’t even see me. Instead, he looked right past me to Knight. “You need some pointers on her favorite positions? Maybe how she loves having her …”

But Jack was unable to finish his statement. Instead, I didn’t so much see Knight as I heard him lunge for Jack. He moved lightning fast, sidestepping me, and before I could even argue, he pushed Jack down and brought his fist down onto Jack’s face.

“Knight!” I screamed and felt like I was running through quicksand as I threw myself on him. “Stop it!”

But Knight wouldn’t stop. He continued throwing punches into Jack until I was worried he’d do serious damage. I jumped on top of Knight and grabbed his arms, feeling like I was a gnat trying to stop a tornado.

“Stop it!” I screamed again. “Knight, get off him!”

Realizing I wasn’t making any difference, I dove down on top of Jack and watched Knight pull back, just as he was about to bring his fist down on me.

“Dulcie, what the fuck are you doing?” he screamed.

“I’m stopping you from killing him!” I yelled back, pushing my hair out of my face as I looked up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Knight backed away and turned to face the wall, running his hands through his hair as he took a deep breath, probably asking himself the exact same question.

I glanced down at Jack and found he was still coherent though covered in blood. He rolled over onto his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. Apparently Knight had knocked the wind out of him.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He glanced up at me and it looked like Knight had broken his nose. It was already bruising and blood was gushing out both nostrils uncontrollably. He pushed away from me and stood up, suddenly hunching over as if he couldn’t catch his breath. Then he took a few steps forward until he was at the entry of the door. He leaned against the doorjamb and glanced back at me.

“She isn’t worth shit,” he said and spat on my floor. Then he turned around and hobbled down my front walkway, finally getting into his car. Once he sped away, I felt like I could breathe a little easier. That is, until I wondered if Jack would alert the police about what had just gone down. Course, he probably had no idea that Knight was tied to the ANC. I could only hope so anyway. And, furthermore, Jack wasn’t the type of man to willingly admit he’d been bested in a fight so maybe he’d keep it to himself.

I stood up and glanced around my living room, at the blood stains all over my floor. I started for the kitchen so I could get a dishtowel, but Knight grabbed my hand and stopped me.

“Don’t ever put yourself in the middle of a fight again,” he hissed.

I glanced up at him and felt my face flush with anger. I pulled my arm out of his grasp and continued into the kitchen, reaching for a wet dishtowel on the sink while trying to get control of my temper. But it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. “You aren’t the one who should be pointing out what I should or shouldn’t have done.”

“What do you mean?”

I brought the dishtowel to the living room and began soaking up the blood, hoping it hadn’t already stained my wood floors, cheap though they were. “You lost control of yourself. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I knew where my limit was.”

“Bullshit!” I railed, pausing to glance at him before returning my attention to the blood stains. “What the hell are you going to do if this gets back to the ANC?”

“I’ll handle it.” He shook his head and stretched his fingers out as if they were hurting him.

“If your hand hurts, it serves you right,” I said tartly as I stood up and returned to the kitchen, turning on the faucet to wash out Jack’s blood from the dishtowel.

He glanced over at me and frowned. “Thanks, Dulcie.”

But I wasn’t about to let him make me feel guilty for his bad behavior. “What the hell was that back there? You completely lost control of yourself.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t try to pretend like you didn’t, Knight. I was there and I saw what happened. If I hadn’t gotten in the way, who knows what you would have done to him.” I paused as I considered it. “He’s human, you know?”

“Of course, I fucking know that!”

Then something dawned on me, something I hadn’t previously considered. “Is all of this because of what happened between us?” I didn’t wait for him to respond because I was already convinced the answer was a resounding yes. “I said I didn’t want you going caveman on me, remember? That I didn’t want a jealous and possessive man on my hands.”

“This has nothing to do with us, Dulcie. He was forcing himself on you and I intervened.” He paused for a second or two. “I would have done the same thing whether you and I were in a relationship or not.”

I couldn’t argue that because I imagined it was true. But it wasn’t the fact that he’d gotten involved that upset me; it was the degree to which he’d gotten involved.

“I’ll admit that the sight of him with his hands all over you upset me,” Knight added.

“I could have handled the situation myself.”

He frowned. “Sort of like you were handling it when I got here? With him holding you down while his other hand was under your skirt?”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep control of my temper. “I am a law enforcement officer and I know how to defend myself.”

“Then why weren’t you?”

I glared at him. “This isn’t about me, Knight, so stop turning the tables. You need to face the fact that you royally screwed up back there.”

“Should I have just watched him have his way with you then?”

“I would have gotten control of the situation!” I insisted again, feeling myself flush with anger. “The point I’m trying to make is that now I don’t know where we stand!”

Knight narrowed his eyes as he considered my statement. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t want you to act like this. I don’t want to deal with your jealousy and your arrogance.”

“Jealousy? This has nothing to do with jealousy, dammit. Will you listen to yourself?” He slammed his fist into the wall and the entire room shook. “I heard you tell him no and he didn’t back away, Dulcie. Should I have waited until it was a rape before I intervened?”

“Stop blowing it out of proportion,” I yelled and before I realized what I was saying, the words were already out. “I knew this would end up being a mistake.”

“What?” Knight’s expression was hard to read but there was definitely a wounded look in his eyes.

“I told you what I didn’t want and it looks like this situation has turned into exactly that.” I could feel something bubbling up within me that felt like fear mixed with anger and I had to wonder if I wasn’t making a mountain out of a mole hill. Maybe I was overreacting? Maybe I was taking this too far? Maybe I truly was scared about the fact that I was in a relationship again and wanted to subconsciously sabotage it?

“Dulcie, tell yourself whatever you need to in order to keep that wall of yours up but this whole situation has nothing to do with it and I’m not going to stand here and take the blame for this.” He started for the door but turned to face me. “Just realize that this failed because of you, not me.”

I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t say anything at all. I just watched him as he took a few steps, then he turned back to face me again.

“Oh, and you’re welcome for saving your ass.”

Before I could respond, he threw my door shut behind him.

FIVE

It was Friday night when Jack and Knight got into their confrontation. After Knight and I had argued and Knight walked out, I hadn’t talked to him all day Saturday and now it was Saturday night. And I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that neither of us had called each other. The more I thought about it, though, I realized the answer was pretty, glaringly obvious. We were done. Over. Kaput. No longer.

I’d managed to last in a relationship for all of one night and one day. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I deserved some sort of raspberry award—”Dulcie O’Neil, so dysfunctional she can’t keep a man for longer than twenty-four hours.”

It’s just as well, half of me said, because it was pretty obvious that Knight had become that jealous and possessive guy you expected. Maybe he’s always been that way? He’s cocky—you’ve always known that. And just because Jack wasn’t right for you, doesn’t mean that Knight was. And, really, maybe Knight was just a rebound anyway? I mean, you hadn’t dated anyone else after Jack, right? It’s better this way—better to keep your guard up and not fall for men and their bullshit.

The other half of me didn’t exactly agree. Knight wasn’t acting jealous or possessive. Yes, he was pretty hard on Jack but maybe that was just to teach him a lesson. From Knight’s point of view, it looked like you couldn’t defend yourself and that Jack was taking advantage of the situation. And you know Knight, yes, he’s cocky but you also know he’s so much more than that. You need to admit to yourself, Dulcie, that you screwed up. You freaked out just like Sam and Knight both knew you would and you looked for the nearest emergency exit. This isn’t Knight’s fault; it’s yours.

Anyway you looked at it, I was at an impasse. It seemed like one minute I was resolute in the fact that Knight was a jerk and someone I wanted nothing to do with; and, the next second, I couldn’t help but think I was completely wrong. And when you, yourself, can’t figure out what the hell to do with your love life, you call your best friend.

I picked up the phone and dialed Sam’s number. She answered after the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Hey, Dulce, what’s up?”

I sighed. “I’m having man problems. What’s up with you?”

I could hear the clanking of a metal pan hitting the oven. Sam’s middle name should have been Betty Crocker. “Oh, I just made Trey some chocolate chip cookies with an itch charm to relieve that rash that’s all over his face. Have you seen it?”

If I forgot to mention earlier, Trey was a hobgoblin who worked for the ANC and helped us out a lot with the Dreamstalker case. Invariably, there was always something wrong with him. “No, I haven’t been privileged enough to see Trey’s rash, Sam.”

She sighed as if Trey’s rash was occupying her mind, front, right and center. “It’s really bad and he keeps making it worse by scratching it.”

As much as I liked Trey and was concerned for his well-being, I didn’t really want to spend the next Hades-only-knew-how-long discussing his skin ailments. “Oh well, tell him I hope he feels better soon.”

I could hear her turning a dial, probably setting the timer on the oven and then the sound of her heels as she walked across her tiled kitchen, no doubt about to throw herself into her favorite, over-stuffed, Pottery Barn living room chair.

“So what’s the problem with Knight?”

I didn’t even know where to start but I managed. I told her about Jack showing up, the fact that he wouldn’t leave and Knight arriving just at the moment that Jack had his hand up my dress. Then I continued with the part about Knight attacking Jack, ending my happy little story with the argument that ensued between Knight and myself.

“So what’s the problem outside of the fact that Knight might be in a load of shit if this ever reaches the ANC?” Sam asked.

“Well, yeah aside from the ANC issue which could be a total cluster fuck in and of itself, I, uh, sort of blamed the whole confrontation on Knight and I guess …” I took a deep breath. “I, uh, freaked out like you were worried I would.”

Sam sighed, which tacitly said she definitely thought I shouldn’t have blamed Knight. Dammit. I hate it when I’m the bad guy. “So call him and say you’re sorry.”

I glanced at my fingernails and started picking at my cuticles, trying to accept the fact that this mess was something wholly owned by me. “You think I should?” It was a rhetorical question.

“Are you sorry?”

Was I sorry? That was the million dollar question. Half of me was sorry, yes, and the other half was still fighting with the first half. But I must admit it was a losing battle because the more I thought about it, the guiltier I felt. And that had to mean one thing. “Yeah, I guess I am.” I stopped talking and zoned out on my wall for a few seconds as the truth of the situation sunk into me. “This whole thing is my fault.”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Sam was quick to respond. “But that’s not a big surprise, is it?” Then she giggled.

And the truth of the matter was that it wasn’t a big surprise—not really a surprise at all. Deep down, I’d known the truth of the situation before I called Sam. I guess I just needed a second opinion. “Well, that’s the answer I was expecting.”

Sam took a deep breath and exhaled until it sounded like I was having a conversation with the wind. “Dulce, I’m not going to tell you what to do and I know how difficult relationships are for you, but I think you need to look at the situation and ask yourself whether or not you acted fairly. I’m sure there is some truth to the fact that Knight was jealous and a little too hard on Jack. I mean, it sort of goes with the territory, you know? You are his girlfriend and any man walking into that situation with you and Jack would probably have reacted the same way.” She paused for a few seconds. “But didn’t it feel good to watch Jack get his ass handed to him?”

I laughed as I thought about it. I hadn’t realized it at the time but, looking back, it did feel pretty good that Jack finally got what he should’ve gotten two years ago. “Um, yeah, I guess I can admit taking some adverse pleasure in that.”

Sam just laughed and I felt suddenly incredibly grateful for her friendship. It’s not like I’m normally an ingrate where Sam is concerned or that I have ever taken her for granted; but sometimes you just have a moment when you realize how important your friends are and how much they mean to you. And Sam just has a way about her—she’s always right. “If you’re ever looking for a career change, I think you’d make a really great therapist.”

She laughed. “Well thanks, but I’m not so sure about that.”

Then it occurred to me that Sam hadn’t really talked much about her own dating life lately. In fact, the last date (of which I was aware) she’d had was with the vampire, Bram. That situation was completely over and done with (not to mention ancient history). “So how’s your love life?” I asked.

“Um, well,” she started and then giggled which meant there was definitely a story in the makings. “I do sort of have a crush on a guy.”

I was surprised. This was the first I’d heard of it and suddenly I felt like a bad friend. Granted, the last few weeks had been pretty hectic for all of us—Sam especially. During the Dreamstalker case, Sam had fallen into a coma and nearly lost her life. Given those events, I guess it wasn’t so weird that I had no clue she was actually interested in someone.

“Spill the details,” I said with a smile.

“I met him the other day when I was at training.”

By training, she meant that she had attended a required ANC class, whereby she was probably learning the latest in potions and spells as well as new moves in self-defense/offense. Given the fact that she’d met her mystery man in training, though, I could only imagine it must have been some sort of weapons training. Either way, it was pretty clear he was ANC, which was good in my books.

“What training?”

I could hear her tapping her permanently manicured fingernails against her table. “Oh, defense moves training. I, uh, volunteered to let him take me down.”

I laughed. “And has he taken you down in more ways than one?”

It was her turn to giggle. “No, not yet but I think he’s getting pretty close.”

“What’s his name?” I asked, wondering if I might know him. The ANC branch in Splendor was pretty small and I knew all the employees.

“Alex,” she said with a smile. “He’s from Estuary and he’s new to the force.” Estuary was one town over from Splendor. And, no, I didn’t know any Alexes.

“What is he?”

“A were.”

I nodded. In general, weres could be trouble because they had an incredible amount of energy and without the right discipline, they usually resorted to breaking the law. But, as with most generalizations, not all weres were trouble. This being a case in point.

“I’m really happy for you, Sam. I just hope he deserves you.”

“Well, we’ll find out.” She paused and I could hear her heels against her floor again. “So is everything copacetic?”

I thought about it. I’d gotten the answer I expected and now I knew exactly what I’d have to do. “Yep.”

“And you’re going to call Knight and apologize to him and beg him to take you back?”

“Um, I don’t know about ‘the begging him to take me back’ part but, yeah, I’ll call him.”

Sam laughed. “I’m sure it will be fine, Dulce. Knight is a good guy and he happens to be completely in love with you.”

“In love with me?” I repeated, my tone dubious as I considered it. Knight in love with me? I couldn’t see that exactly, not that I knew what love was; but he did seem to like me and I really liked him. So, basically, what it came down to was the fact that I screwed everything up and now it was time to play the part of repentant woman. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Welcome. Call me later.”

We said our good-byes and I hung up the phone. I didn’t put it back on its cradle, though. Instead, I just stared at it in my lap as I tried to summon up any courage I possessed. I mean, it’s never fun eating humble pie; and I was about to have multiple helpings. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone, dialing Knight’s number as my hand shook. I really wasn’t good with this apology stuff.

It rang and I felt the breath catch in my throat. He didn’t pick up. It rang again and my heartbeat started escalating until I could feel the drumming in my ears. He didn’t pick up. Third ring … nothing. After the fourth ring, his answering machine kicked on and I felt myself panic. Should I leave a message or hang up?

I hung up.

Then I sat there for another few minutes while I weighed the reality of what had just happened. Was Knight at his house, screening his calls? Did he know it was me and just didn’t want to pick up? Was he really that angry with me? Or maybe he had a woman over? Maybe he was numbing himself in the arms of someone else? Angela from Bram’s nightclub, maybe? Or someone I didn’t know?

I felt anger brewing up within me and stood up, trying to calm myself. My mind was racing, taking me into territory that was completely ridiculous and, more so, painful.

At the sound of my dog, Blue, scratching at the sliding glass door, wanting some company, I walked through my kitchen and pulled it open, giving him a big smile and a pat on the head.

“What am I going to do about my life, boy?” I asked, leaning down to accept his doggie kisses. “Ah, thanks.” Then I sighed and scratched him behind the ear. “Life would be so much easier if it were just you and me.”

Blue batted his tail against my legs and nudged me with his gigantic head.

Thank Hades for dogs.

***

It was Monday morning. I slept in too late and awoke to the shrill ring of the phone interrupting my slumber. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The sliver of sun infiltrating my drawn shades acted like a knife to my eyes and I shaded them, feeling for the phone which sat beside my bed.

“Hello?” I said in a voice that implied whoever was calling better have a damned good reason to be waking me before … what time was it? I glanced at the clock. Before ten a.m.

“Dulce.” It was Sam and she sounded worried.

“What’s up?” I asked, sitting up straighter. Worry in someone else’s voice is never a good thing.

“Have you talked to or seen Knight?”

I felt something in my gut begin to stir—something like butterflies, only more malevolent. This felt more like the beginnings of angst mixed with dread. “No.”

Sam took a deep breath. “He never showed up for work this morning. I don’t know how many times we’ve tried calling him at home and we’ve tried his cell phone, but he doesn’t answer.”

It wasn’t like Knight to be late to work. His life was his work. I felt the angst mixed with dread turn into worry, verging on panic. “I tried him the other night and didn’t get an answer either.”

“I’m worried, Dulce. Can you go check on him? Make sure he’s okay?”

I sighed, long and hard. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go check on him, but I was suddenly worried that maybe it was just an innocent situation. Maybe he’d simply overslept (um, he’d never done so in the time I’d known him, but anyway) and my arriving on his doorstep, when he hadn’t bothered to return my call, might become an embarrassing state of affairs. Especially if he had company.

Damn, Dulcie, what is wrong with you? Why do you keep thinking he has a woman over? I reprimanded myself. And I was right—I was being a total idiot. If there was the slightest chance that Knight was in trouble, I needed to put my personal feelings aside and make sure he was alright. That’s all there was to it. “Yeah, of course I will. I’m headed there now.”

“Okay, I’ll keep thinking good thoughts.”

I stood up and cradled the phone between my head and shoulder as I grabbed my stretch pants, which were draped over my chair and pulled them on.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I find him,” I said before hanging up. Grabbing a long-sleeved shirt from my closet, I yanked it over my head and reached for the Op 6 which was underneath my bed. Even though the Op 6 was a small gun, similar to a Smith & Wesson five-shot revolver, the length just spanning the width of my palm and fingers, the dragon blood bullets were lethal to all Netherworld creatures.

I snatched my shoulder holster from my night table and, securing it around myself, fitted the gun inside it while reaching for my leather bike jacket. Glancing at the keys to the Suzuki, which were just beside the keys to the Ducati, I delayed for only a second. The Ducati was faster and if I needed nothing else at the moment, it was speed. I grabbed the Ducati keys and started for my bedroom door, running hell-bent through my living room. I paused long enough to grab my helmet and then started for the front door, exiting as I locked it behind me.

The sun met me full bore and I pulled on my sunglasses, my mind racing with thoughts about Knight. Was he in trouble? Was he hurt? Had Jack somehow gotten revenge? I pushed the thoughts from my mind, focusing on my first hurdle which was to go to Knight’s house. What if he isn’t at his condo? Where should I go next?

“Just focus on one thing at a time,” I said to myself as I hurried down my front steps, reaching the Ducati in mere seconds. I threw my leg over the seat, secured my helmet on my head and turned the bike on. It purred beneath me and, pulling onto the street, I gunned it.

It usually took me about ten minutes to reach Knight’s upscale neighborhood from my less-than-desirable area but when I turned down his street only moments later, I wasn’t even sure where the time had gone. I parked the bike and turned off the engine, removing my helmet before placing it on the seat. Then I jumped down and inhaled deeply as I started for Knight’s door.

Hopefully, this whole thing would just be a matter of over-sleeping. Hopefully, Knight just wanted a weekend to himself where he could ignore his phone and somehow, he’d forgotten it was Monday morning. Hopefully, there wasn’t anything questionable going on; and I was doubly hopeful that I wouldn’t find a woman in his house … Guess I was about to find out.

I strode up to the front door and pounded my fist, knocking twice before I remembered his doorbell. I buzzed. After waiting a few seconds and realizing no one was coming to answer it, I rang the bell again. And waited. Nothing. I rang it again. And waited.

I had to face it, Knight wasn’t home. I tried turning the doorknob and found it was unlocked. Hmmm, something was very definitely rotten in the state of Denmark because Knight never left his doors unlocked. When you work with criminals every day, you very quickly learn how important locks can be.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called for backup. It wasn’t smart for me to do this alone. After hanging up, I put the phone back in my pocket and started searching the perimeter of Knight’s condo, just to see if anything seemed out of the ordinary—broken windows, open doors, ripped screens, etc. After securing the perimeter, I came to the conclusion that nothing seemed unusual or looked as if it had been disrupted. If someone was responsible for Knight’s … disappearance (for lack of a better word), he probably knew who that someone was. In any case, it didn’t appear like anyone had broken in.

I walked back around to the front of the building, pretty sure that anyone that might have been here was long gone but, still, I wasn’t about to take any chances. Not until I had backup as my aid. So I waited.

I don’t know how long I waited—maybe five minutes. But while five minutes might not sound like much, to me, it felt like forever. And I’m sure it had everything to do with my replaying visions of Knight in all sorts of distressing situations. At the five minute mark, the urge to go to him was too much for me to ignore. Hoping I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake, one which I might regret for the rest of my life or, worse, not live to regret, I started for his front door.

I pushed the door open and glanced around his living room, noting that nothing seemed out of place. I didn’t call out to him, afraid I might alert any possible interlopers. Instead, I pulled the Op 6 from my shoulder holster and held the gun pointed down in front of me, in low ready stance. I glanced around the room, assessing any threats. The couch could hide someone as well as the dark corner leading into the kitchen. I took a step into the living room from the doorway until I was barely a foot or so inside, my back against the wall.

I walked the perimeter of the room, inspecting both sides of each couch to ensure no one was hiding behind them. When I reached the wall, beyond which was the kitchen, I kept my back to it, and with my gun in low ready, pivoted on my toes until I was facing the kitchen. Nothing. Nothing out of place, nothing disturbed, nothing.

I didn’t stop. I continued forward, into the hallway which led to the master bedroom and the guest room. Good thing I’d been in his condo before because I knew exactly how many rooms and bathrooms I’d have to secure.

After seven minutes, I found myself at the entry of the living room again after checking the rest of the house and with no leads at all. Nothing was disrupted, no doors busted, no windows broken, no furniture overturned. No one had broken in. His bed hadn’t even looked slept in. It was as if he’d never even been here …

I heard the sound of footsteps in the front entry, announcing the backup I’d summoned and I started for the living room.

“It’s Dulcie O’Neil,” I shouted. “Don’t shoot me!”

When I emerged from around the corner of the hallway, facing the living room, I found Trey standing before me, frowning with the worst rash I’d ever seen covering half his face. It looked like he’d fallen into a tub of poison oak.

“Why the hell are you in here by yourself?” he demanded, his hands on his hips. “You should have waited for us.”

Behind him was someone I didn’t recognize. Probably my replacement since I’d quit the ANC several months earlier.

“I couldn’t wait,” I said, giving him an expression that said he better not try and argue with me.

“And?” he commanded, puffing out his lower lip until he looked like a blowfish with rosacea.

“Knight’s not here and from what I can see, it looks like he hasn’t been here in days.”

Trey nodded and glanced around the room, as if half expecting Knight to jump out from behind the curtains. Luckily for both of us, and the ANC in general, Trey had the ability to psychically see glimpses of the past. His gift was about to come in very handy.

“Hold on a sec,” I said as I started for Knight’s bedroom. Walking inside, I opened his closet and pulled one of his long-sleeve shirts from the hanger. I brought it to my nose, smelling his aftershave. Good, he hadn’t washed it. The washing machine had a way of dimming any trace of personal essence from clothing—essence that was imperative in assisting Trey with his ability to recreate the past.

Smelling Knight’s spicy, masculine scent was almost overwhelming and I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick. Worry gnawed at my stomach and the idea that he was in trouble, that maybe he’d been in an accident and was lying in a ditch somewhere or maybe someone was holding him for ransom against the ANC. Or, worse yet, maybe he was … dead?

No! I wouldn’t allow myself to even consider the possibility. Knight was a soldier for the Netherworld, trained in combat—he wasn’t someone who went down easily. He’d been created by the god, Hades, to defend the Netherworld. He had to be alive. I didn’t know how I knew it but it was a gut feeling. Yes, he had to be alive.

I started for the hallway and into the living room, handing Knight’s shirt to Trey. He took it with a silent nod and closed his eyes, his mouth twitching as he attempted to channel the side of him that could see into another plane.

“You can do it, Trey,” I said in a soft voice.

He didn’t respond but clenched his eyes even tighter, his fist grasping the fabric of Knight’s shirt. And then, it was as if an earthquake struck him. His eyes flew open at the same time that a tremor seized his body and he began to shake. He glanced at me, his eyes wide, but he wasn’t seeing me. He was looking right through me. Remembering a time when Knight had witnessed one of Trey’s visions, I grabbed Trey’s wrist, hoping I’d see into his head the same way Knight had been able to when he touched the hobgoblin. But, nothing happened. It was just another Loki trait that wasn’t shared by fairies. Oh, well.

I didn’t drop my grip on Trey’s wrist, mainly to let him know I was there for moral support. Sometimes his visions frightened him and I could only hope this one wouldn’t qualify. Because if it did … no, I wouldn’t allow my thoughts to go there.

Think positive.

Knight is going to be fine. Knight is going to be fine. Knight is going to be fine.

Trey blinked a few times and then dropped his head. He took a deep breath and glanced at me and his eyes were still wide with what appeared to be fear.

“What was it, Trey?” I asked, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly. “What did you see?”

“He was here. Knight was here,” he started and then seemed at a loss for words.

“What happened?” I said, not intending for my voice to sound so panicked. I also didn’t realize I was squeezing his arms until he attempted to wriggle out of my hold.

“He was in his living room and someone was calling him. He reached for the phone but before he could answer it, they just sort of … showed up.” He shrugged and looked at me as if to ask if any of his garbled explanation made any sense. It didn’t.

“Who showed up, Trey?”

“I don’t know. They were dressed in uniforms and looked like military, maybe, or maybe like cops. But not like human cops or ANC.”

“What color were their uniforms?”

Trey chewed on his lip. “Um … they were grey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded, we were getting somewhere. No, the ANC didn’t have grey uniforms. Not here on earth anyway …

“Where did they come from, Trey?”

He shook his head. “It makes no sense. They just showed up in his living room, like out of thin air. Like they just dropped in from the sky or something.”

It was a portal. They’d come from a portal and they were wearing grey law enforcement uniforms. I knew this because Quill had told me a long time ago that the only entrances to the Netherworld were via portals. Obviously, that information had been hush-hush because even Trey wasn’t aware of it. “Then what happened?”

“They said they were here to take him into custody and he didn’t even fight them, Dulce.” Trey shook his head like it didn’t make any sense. “He put his hands out and let them cuff him and he even said he thought they ‘wouldn’t have taken their sweet ass time about it.’” He paused for a few seconds and then shrugged. “And that’s all I got.”

I nodded and felt a shard of panic piercing me. I knew exactly what this meant, exactly who these assholes were.

“What was that about, Dulce?” Trey asked.

I glanced up at him and answered, barely recognizing my own voice. “They were from the High Court of the Netherworld, Trey,” I started and then swallowed hard. “They’ve arrested him for something I did.”

SIX

As soon as I discovered that the ANC of the Netherworld had Knight in custody, I wasn’t sure what to do. I had no experience with the Netherworld—I’d never even been there. From what I understood, the Netherworld existed in the same spatial plane as Earth. Knight had described it as a cake with multiple layers—the Earth existed in one layer and the Netherworld on the next layer. As I mentioned earlier, the only way to travel from one layer to the other was through a portal. However, where those portals existed and how one accessed them was anyone’s guess.

Although I didn’t know much about the Netherworld in general, I did know that anyone who had been there once, knew enough to stay away. Most creatures dreamt of coming to Earth, but the immigration policy between Earth and the Netherworld was strict. Why? In order to maintain the balance; otherwise, Netherworld creatures might outnumber humans.

So now I was pretty much stuck. Other than sitting back and allowing the ANC to take care of the situation through their avenues of justice, I really had no course of action. And I’m not the type of person to sit back and let things happen, especially when I was the cause of Knight getting caught up in this whole mess. Yes, something else was entirely my fault …

Back when I first met Knight, we worked a case involving a Kragengen shape-shifter who was eating some of the less than civilized members of the Netherworld community in Splendor. I discovered my boss and friend at the time, Quillan, had defected to the other side. Knight and I had busted Quill and his cohorts at an abandoned house outside the city limits and I managed to detain Quill. I fully intended to take him into custody but he slipped away from me. Well, to be honest, I had my Op 6 pointed at him but he probably knew I wouldn’t pull the trigger, so he simply walked away.

That moment has plagued me since it happened. I knew then as well as now that I could never have pulled the trigger. Not when I was fully cognizant that the dragon blood bullets would have killed him. Netherworld creatures just can’t handle the toxins of dragon’s blood and Quill, being an elf, was no match. What it came down to was that I just couldn’t do it—I couldn’t shoot him and I hadn’t come up with any other ideas at the spur of the moment to detain him, so I reluctantly let him go. I wasn’t angry with myself that I hadn’t been able to shoot him, especially because he was unarmed—I was angrier with the situation. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I could have done to arrest him, to ensure that he wouldn’t get away.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my already frazzled mind. What was done was done so there was no use in crying over it now. The real bummer of the whole situation was the fact that the ANC was well aware that Quillan had escaped. Knight, being the hero that he was, had insisted it was his fault when we both knew it was entirely mine. And now Knight would suffer for my mistake.

It was a fact I couldn’t stomach as I tried to imagine the crap he was in now. I didn’t know much about Netherworld law, other than hearing their punishments were brutal. They still practiced more along the lines of medieval torture than innocent until proven guilty. But who knew? Maybe those stories were merely that—embellished stories. The worst part was that I had no idea what was happening—whether Knight was being tortured or merely being held in a prison cell, awaiting trial. The suspense of not knowing was driving me crazy.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone as I collapsed into my sofa and propped my feet on the coffee table. I pretty much had already made up my mind as to what my next steps would be. Actually, I’d reached this conclusion as soon as I realized the ANC had Knight.

I glanced at the phone pad and dialed Dia’s number. As head of the ANC division in Moon, I hoped she could give me some information as to Knight’s whereabouts and how I could reach him.

“Diva here,” Dia trilled in her sing-song voice and then giggled. She was one of those people who had no problem laughing at herself, which was one of the reasons I liked her so much.

“Hi D, it’s Dulcie.” I couldn’t help the dejected tone of my voice. There was so much on my mind, so much to explain and I didn’t know where to begin.

“Girl! How ya been?”

I sighed. “Not good.”

“What’s going on?” she asked in a level but concerned tone. I didn’t have many girlfriends outside of Sam, but I definitely considered Dia among that small circle.

I took a deep breath and thought about the best way to relay the information, finally deciding on the most direct route. I had no time to explain the whys and hows of it. “Dia, the ANC Netherworld has Knight.”

“Oh no,” she said as she exhaled. She was quiet for a few seconds.

“I need to do something about it.”

“Oh hell no, Dulcie girl! Doncha even think about it, you hear me?” I had to give it to her; she was quick.

“I have no other choice. I can’t let Knight face punishment for something I did, Dia. It’s my fault he’s there.” I paused as the weight of what I was saying began to sink into me. “I have to go to the Netherworld, Dia, and get him out. I have to tell them the truth.”

“I get that, girl, and I see where you’re coming from but you need to promise me you will push any thoughts of going to the Netherworld right out of that stubborn head of yours.”

I swallowed hard. “I can’t promise that, Dia, and, what’s more, I … I need your help.”

“Oh hell no,” she said and I could tell she was shaking her head in her Diva like manner even though she was on the phone and I obviously couldn’t see her. “Bad idea, Dulcie, bad idea.”

“There’s no other way,” I insisted. I was resolute. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Have you ever been to the Netherworld?” she asked in a voice a parent would use on an unruly child.

“No.”

“It’s not like here, girl. It’s dangerous with a capital D.”

“Have you been there, Dia?” I asked, wanting to cut directly to the chase because I needed to talk with someone who had first-hand experience. I could only hope Dia could tell me something I didn’t know.

“No I haven’t and I sure as hell am not interested in any vacations to the Netherworld either, you hear me? If you were going to Mexico or Hawaii, I’d be on board, girl. But the Netherworld? Hells to the no, thank you.”

I started chewing my lip as I realized it wouldn’t do me any good to pursue this conversation. I needed someone who had some knowledge of the Netherworld. “Dia, I’ve made up my mind.”

“Girl, I know you made up your stubborn fairy head up about this but you need to know the risks before you go. You are not cut out for that place. It would chew you up and spit you out.”

“I have no choice, D.”

“You always have a choice.” Her voice was sharp, serious.

I took a deep breath. “Dia, if Knight is found guilty, what will happen to him?”

She didn’t respond right away. “I dunno.”

“If there’s even the ghost of a chance he could end up rotting away in a cell somewhere, or something even worse, I would never forgive myself.”

“So you would sacrifice yourself instead?” she demanded.

“It’s not sacrificing myself,” I corrected her. “It’s me confessing something that is solely my responsibility and my fault.”

“I get that, girl, but there was a reason Knight stood up for you. There was a reason he took this on his own shoulders. That fine man is not dumb and you know that.”

“Okay …”

“So imagine for a second what could happen to you.” She paused as if she were also trying to imagine the worst-case scenario. “Girl, I can’t even imagine it because I haven’t got a clue what could happen. But whatever does happen, it sure won’t be the end of it, Dulcie. Knight lied to the High Court and that is a serious offense, punishable in and of itself.”

I nodded. I had already considered that. “I can’t imagine that that punishment would be any more severe than what he would face if he’s found guilty of allowing a criminal to escape.”

“Be that as it may, Dulcie, the Netherworld is a combat zone. It’s not safe.” Then she sighed. “I don’t know what I’m worried about—there’s no way you could find the portal and more so, no way immigration would let you in. You need proper ANC identification and a passport.”

Hmm, I hadn’t considered that. Technically, I was no longer employed by the ANC but I had a pretty good hunch I could just drum up one of my old badges somewhere. That wouldn’t be a problem. The passport could be tough though … But I wasn’t about to cave in just yet. “I can get all that.”

“Knowing you, I imagine you could but that is just the half of it. You would not last one day there without a guide, Dulcie. It’s all warfare, creatures eating one another. It’s not civilized like it is here.”

“How do you know all this if you’ve never been?”

“Because I once ran border control on this side, girl, and I’ve seen and heard first count stories of the stuff going on there.”

I smiled. “If you ran border control, that means you know where I could get a passport and ID?”

She exhaled. “Damn girl, are you not listening to a word I’m saying?”

“D, I’m going, whether you help me or not. I’m not asking you to be my escort because I need someone who knows the Netherworld and you’ve never been. But what I will ask you for, as a friend, is your help with the legal stuff.”

She was silent and then she sighed which meant I’d won. “Sometimes I bemoan the day I first set eyes on you, Dulcie O’Neil.”

I laughed. “Thank you, Dia.”

“Honey, you be careful and you find someone who knows what the hell they’re doing, you got it?”

“Yeah, I will,” I finished, although I had no clue who that person might be. “Thanks, Dia.” She didn’t respond but didn’t hang up either so I had to imagine there was more. “Yes?”

“I have a list of all the creatures who live in California but are natives of the Netherworld.” She said it like she was giving away a secret. Course, this was confidential information and she could have gotten in trouble just for letting me know she had such a list.

I smiled wide. “Dia, have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me any of that Rod Stewart bullcrap,” she said but there was a laugh hiding somewhere in her voice. “Just a minute while I pull this up on my computer.”

“Okay.”

She started singing. “… fill my heart with gladness … Oh, hell no, girl, you got that damn song stuck in my head.”

I just laughed. It seemed like my day was looking up. Dia could handle the documents I needed and she could find me someone to serve as Netherworld tour guide. I had to admit, it was incredibly funny hearing the diva sing some shitty Rod Stewart song.

“Mmm hmmm,” she said as I imagined she started recognizing names on her list of native Netherworld creatures. “Bingo,” she finished.

“Who is it?” I asked as I lowered my feet from the coffee table and leaned forward.

“Looks like a certain fang face who’s gotta thing for you, Dulcie girl.”

I smiled broadly. This couldn’t have worked out any better. “Bram.”

***

No Regrets hadn’t fared badly after the introduction of its rival nightclub, Bliss. Tonight, there was a huge crowd on the dance floor, undulating to Kesha’s song “Blow” and every booth was occupied. I pushed my way through the crowd, looking for Bram’s tall and handsome person but not seeing him, I strode up to the bar.

As usual, Angela was bartender. Although I’d never had an issue with Angela in the past, she’d always been withdrawn. But I saw her as a strong woman whom I actually admired. Well, that was before she showed up at one of Bram’s events with Knight in tow. I later learned that she had the hots for him.

“Hi, Angela,” I said, offering her a quick smile.

“Dulcie,” she said in response, sans a smile. So playing it catty, are you?

“I’m here to see Bram. Is he around?”

She nodded towards Bram’s office which was at the rear of the building. A black light bathed the club in a weird, sporadic freeze frame and highlighted Angela’s banana-yellow, butch-short hair. Not a good look.

I didn’t say anything more as I tapped the bar top in a strange rendition of “thanks and I’ll see you later” before starting for Bram’s office. I was somewhat surprised that Angela hadn’t tried to hightail it ahead of me, if only to ensure he wasn’t necking on some chick.

I knocked on the door.

“What?” Bram called out in a tone of fatigued irritation.

“It’s Dulcie,” I yelled back.

There was no response but within seconds, the door opened to reveal Bram, smiling graciously at me. Bram, as always, looked extremely handsome. His pitch-black hair and light blue eyes, along with a sharply defined but perfect nose and jawline gave him a modelesque sort of look. His height gives him an air of dignity and aloofness that says he doesn’t bother with trivialities. And the icing on the cake? His English accent is to die for.

He held the door open for me as I entered, the sound of classical music pouring from his speakers in a jumble of loud and less than relaxing notes. He closed the door behind him and I felt swallowed up by the darkness.

“Where are the lights?”

Bram’s laugh was deep. “I can see in the dark, sweet. No reason for harsh glares.”

“Well, I can’t,” I protested, finding myself almost screaming to compete with the music. “And what the hell are you listening to?”

“Darling sweet, this is a Norwegian composer, Edvard Grieg—In the Hall of the Mountain King. Quite famous.” He flipped a switch and the lighting went from non-existent to dimly lit, bathing us in a yellowish hue. I’m sure it looked like I had jaundice.

I shook my head. “You’re an enigma, Bram.”

“And you, my delectable little package, are an aphrodisiac to my very senses.”

The last thing I wanted was a long evening of rebutting Bram’s less than smooth advances. I needed to cut to the chase. It wasn’t like I had a lot of time. “I need your help, Bram.”

He smiled, displaying his fangs. “I find I quite enjoy your being in need of my assistance, sweet.”

I frowned. “I’m sure you do.”

“And what can I assist you with this eve? Perhaps you would care to remove your jacket in favor of comfort?”

Before I could respond, he was behind me, peeling my jacket from my shoulders until he had it in his hands. He deftly draped it over the back of one of his chairs. Then he ran his long fingers down the naked skin of my shoulders and upper arms until I got goose bumps. He didn’t back away but stood behind me and leaning into my neck, inhaled deeply.

“I am always hopeful, my dear.”

“Of what?” I asked as I quickly withdrew from him, turning around to face him.

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “I am always hopeful that whenever you are beside me, my desire for you will be less consuming than it has been on previous meetings; and, yet, I find such is never the case.”

“Oh,” I didn’t know what else to say. Sometimes I wished I’d had sex with Bram so he would have gotten over this stupid crush a long time ago. And I’m pretty sure Bram would agree with me.

“How can I help you, my beautiful friend?”

I glanced around his office, eyeing the black and white motif of his furniture and carpeting. I looked down at his leather couch and back up at him. “May I?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

I sat down and he seated himself beside me. I took a deep breath and swiveled to face him. “What’s your history with the Netherworld, Bram?”

He seemed taken aback. “The Netherworld?” he repeated.

“When was the last time you were there?”

He was silent and seemed to be reliving the past in his mind, pulling up memories that were probably long since buried. It wasn’t surprising because Bram was over three centuries old.

“It has been over one hundred years since I last stepped foot on Netherworld soil, sweet.”

I swallowed and glanced down at my folded hands in my lap. Over one hundred years was a long ass time. Maybe I needed a more up-to-date guide?

“Why do you ask?”

I glanced at him. “I need a guide, Bram.”

“A guide?” he repeated.

“I have to go to the Netherworld and I don’t want to go alone.”

Bram’s expression was non-existent and seconds later he exploded into a raucous laugh, throwing his head back with the effort.

“This isn’t a joke,” I said with no smile.

He stopped laughing and faced me. “You must forget this foolish errand, sweet.”

I stood up and glared back at him. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

He stood and grasped my hand, pulling me into the breadth of his chest. “If I were to accept your proposition, may I expect a reward?”

I didn’t pull away. I knew too well that I had to play his game if I wanted to get my way. “I could pay you.” Even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure what I would pay him with. My bank account wasn’t exactly something to boast about …

“I am not interested in your money.”

“Bram, you and I have a good arrangement. You know I could bust you for some of your less than legal transactions.”

“You have attempted to use this argument on me before, sweet. We both know that only I can offer you information that is more than … valuable.”

Damn, I should have known better. Bram was a formidable foe or ally, any way you looked at it. And that meant I was fresh out of ideas.

“I will deliver a letter of my demands, should you choose to hire me as your guardian,” he said as he pushed away from me. “If you accept, you merely sign the letter and if you do not, we shall continue our awkward friendship.”

I just shook my head—I didn’t want to touch the awkward friendship line. But as to the letter of demands ... “Last I checked we weren’t still living in the eighteen hundreds.”

“I must be mindful of my own needs when dealing with you, Dulcie sweet.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay, you have a deal but I need your answer quickly. I have to do this and I have to do it immediately.”

Bram merely nodded. “You will have your letter of demands this very evening, before midnight. Does that suit you?”

I glanced at my watch. Midnight was three hours away. I could wait that long. I looked up at him again. “Yes, that will do.”

“Very well,” he said, slapping his hands together. “I must start my letter.”

I laughed and took a few steps toward the door but his hand on my arm prevented me from leaving.

“One last item to discuss,” he started.

“What?”

He eyed me suspiciously. “What business calls you to the Netherworld?”

I debated whether or not to tell him for all of three seconds. “Knight was apprehended by the ANC for something he didn’t do.”

Bram just continued to eye me. “Something you did?”

I just nodded.

“Perhaps you should weigh the potential outcomes of your actions. The Netherworld is not an easy place in which to be a criminal, sweet. Is it not better to allow the Loki to suffer for your transgressions?”

I felt my cheeks color. The articulate way he said it made it sound even worse. “Absolutely not. It’s my responsibility.”

“I do not understand your great sense of morality and justice, Dulcie sweet, though I do admire it. And as to the Loki …” He sighed. “I will relish the day when the Loki is no longer your primary concern.”

I wondered if that day would ever come.

***

If nothing else, Bram was true to his word. At ten minutes to midnight, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find a youngish Lamia staring back at me. Lamias belong to the shape-shifter family, similar to weres only Lamias morph into lions. I was surprised to find that Bram would have a Lamia in his employ because they are notoriously difficult to manage and rumored to be dangerous, since it was general knowledge that they delight in causing pain. They also possess the ability to drain information from their victims by simply staring at them, which was probably why Bram kept one in his employ. Like I said, Bram couldn’t always be found on the right side of the law. Luckily, this Lamia was wearing sunglasses—probably Bram’s way of saying I was safe.

He said nothing to me, merely handing me Bram’s letter which was folded in thirds and sealed with red wax.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered while I slipped my finger under the wax and broke the seal, unfolding the letter. It read:

Dear Ms. O’Neil:

This is a demand letter. If you agree to abide by each and every one of the following conditions, please sign your name at the close of the letter and I shall happily act as your escort through the Netherworld.

Yours,

Bram

Demands: All mandatory.

Once in the Netherworld and throughout our time there:

1. For as many nights as we are travel companions, we shall share the same bedroom and bed; and

2. When you dress or undress, you shall do so under my gaze; and

3. I am allowed to touch you at my discretion and as many times as it pleases me; and

4. You will deliver me one kiss a day (the French sort with tongue); and,

5. You must discourage the lust of another man (I believe you refer to this as “flirting”); and, finally,

6. Upon our return to Splendor, you consent to dine with me five times (you must dress in something no longer than three inches above your knees and the top of which outfit should extend into a low v, whereby I can clearly delineate your cleavage)

If you accept the aforesaid conditions, please sign and date below.

I dropped my hand which was holding the letter and scoffed at the Lamia. “Is he serious?”

The creature just shrugged and acted as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Good thing he had those sunglasses on or he could have just extracted any information he wanted. Course, then he’d have to deal with Bram and suffer the consequences.

“Just a minute,” I said as I stomped into my living room, grabbing the phone. I dialed No Regrets and told myself to calm down.

“Thank you for calling No Regrets,” someone muttered on the other side.

“Bram please. This is Dulcie.”

Silence on the other end followed by elevator music as they transferred me.

“Dulcie,” Bram’s voice was sickening sweet, as if he were completely unaware of how absurd his list of demands was.

“Is this some sort of joke?” I insisted.

“I know not of what you speak,” he said, trying his best to sound innocent.

“Your demand letter. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

He sighed. “If you do not accept my terms, sweet, do not sign it, my darling.”

“But if I don’t, you won’t come with me to the Netherworld.”

“It appears you have grasped the rules of this arrangement quite well, sweet.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Why are things never easy with you?”

“I often say the same of you, my dear.”

I held the letter up to my face again. “I need to rewrite a few of the terms.”

“Such as?”

I glanced at demand number one, about sharing a bed. “We can share a bed but I will not be expected to have sex with you.”

“Very well. Add it as an addendum, darling.”

“Where is this ‘darling’ shit coming from?” I barked. “It’s incredibly annoying, so cut it out.”

“What is the next item you wish to negotiate?” he asked in a bored tone.

“When I dress and undress I have to do so in front of you? Only after I’ve put on my panties and bra.”

“No.”

“Bram, there is no way …”

“Then we do not have a deal.”

I grunted and said something unintelligible as I faced the fact that I was going to have to get naked in front of Bram. “Fine. I’ll give you that one. The third one, that I allow you to touch me whenever you want to? What the hell does that mean?”

“I believe you are an intelligent woman, Dulcie. Figure it out.”

“Okay, I’m adding to that one that you can only touch me above my clothing and not in inappropriate places.”

He sighed. “Very well. Unless, of course, you invite me to touch your ‘inappropriate places.’”

It would be a cold day in Hades before that happened. “Sure, I’ll give you that one, too.”

“Are you finished, Dulcie sweet?”

I glanced at the rest of it. Five dinner dates seemed like overkill but I guessed I could handle them. Especially since the book I was working on (well, technically, I hadn’t started it yet) was about Bram. I could use those dinners to my advantage … for research. And the final one about a kiss a day? Yeah, I could probably handle that too, despite my aversion to it.

Yes, it did occur to me that Knight might not approve of any of this but, at this point, I cared more about his safety than anything else. So, yes, Bram could have a few cheap thrills at my expense if it meant I could save Knight from whatever punishment was looming.

“Yes, I’m finished.”

“Good. Simply sign the letter and return it and we shall leave … tomorrow evening?”

I took a deep breath. There was that little problem of a passport. “Um, I need some time to get a passport and identification.”

“I will take care of it.”

“I have someone from the ANC handling …”

“It will take too much time, sweet. Allow me to use my connections.”

Of course, those connections weren’t legal ones. But, in this case, I had to turn a blind eye because Bram was right, it would take too much time on Dia’s part. She most definitely would have to field a long list of questions regarding my interest in going to the Netherworld and that was something for which I definitely didn’t have the time. Furthermore, I didn’t want to put Dia in that position …

“Okay, Bram, do what you have to do.”

“Very well. I shall pick you up at nightfall tomorrow.”

I took a deep breath. I was really going to do this—travel to the Netherworld where Hades only knew what awaited me. Although I felt good about doing my part in sparing Knight the wrongful accusations, what did that mean for me?

SEVEN

The following evening, ten minutes after the sun set, there was a knock on my door. I pulled it open and found Bram leaning against the wall of my building with his hands in his pockets and a killer smile aimed solely at me. He looked every inch the bad boy, and once again up to no good. And, okay, I’ll admit it … he looked hot.

“Good evening, my dear.”

“Hi, Bram. Are you ready?” I, myself, was as ready as I was going to be. I’d asked Sam to dog sit for me for the next few days, telling her I was going to visit some family members I’d basically made up. Sam wouldn’t have reacted well to the news that I was headed to the Netherworld. So, besides Sam and my dog, I didn’t have any other responsibilities.

“I am,” he said and after giving me the once-over to which he shook his head—probably at seeing me dressed in sweats and an oversized T-shirt. He glanced behind me and saw my red suitcase. “May I?”

“I’ve got it,” I interrupted, grabbing the handle of my bag. I started down my front walkway, toward Bram’s black Porsche Carrera. Then, remembering my manners, I turned back to face him. “Thanks, for offering though.”

He didn’t reply but smiled in that endearing, boyish sort of way and instantly appeared in front of me, courtesy of his vampire speed. He opened my door, every inch the perfect gentleman or at least trying to play one. He grasped my bag to place it in the trunk. I just nodded in thanks and took my seat, fastening my seatbelt as he walked to the other side of the car.

“Thanks for picking me up,” I said, once he was seated and buckled into his seatbelt.

“It is my pleasure, Dulcie sweet.” He grinned as he turned the engine on, put it in gear, and gunned it, narrowly missing old Miss Gingerly in her 1970 puke green AMC Gremlin. She screamed something at him and held up a wrinkled, furrowed hand, flipping him off.

“I need to move,” I said, sighing.

Bram glanced over at me with a raised brow, insinuating “you’re just now reaching that conclusion?”

“Moving on,” I muttered. “Where are we going?”

He smiled and put his hand halfway up my thigh. I removed it. I thought I was somewhat prepared for this drive and Bram’s roving hands, which is why I wore my sweats and bulky sweatshirt. For the time being, sexy and I weren’t acquainted. He surreptitiously placed his hand on my thigh again.

“We aren’t in the Netherworld yet so we don’t have to abide by your list of demands,” I said with a scowl as I forced his hand back onto his lap.

He chuckled softly. “I could not help myself, sweet, your body just screams for my touch.”

This was going to be a long ass trip. Ignoring his comment, I reached over and turned the volume on the radio up. More classical music poured out, however, this song was far less furious than the last.

“Jeez, is this all you listen to?” I asked, even as I found myself absorbing the melody and, dare I admit it? liking it.

“I find it soothes my ever agitated nerves,” he answered with a quick smile.

“Who’s on now?” It was nice to focus on something other than the butterflies which were agitating my stomach and flying headlong into one another until I felt somewhat sick. I was nervous—I couldn’t deny it. I hadn’t slept all night, plagued with thoughts of Knight and wondering what was happening to him, if he was alright or not ... As if those thoughts weren’t enough to ruin my evening, there was always the dread of what I was up against if I were found guilty. Would I end up rotting in a Netherworld cell for the rest of my godforsaken life? Or would an even worse punishment await me?

“Beethoven,” Bram answered, holding his hand up and swaying in time with the music, as if he thought he were a conductor or something. “Moonlight Sonata.”

Well, good on Beethoven and his Moonlight Sonata because somehow the music soothed my frazzled mind. The haunting melody gave me something to focus on, steering me away from the frenzy that was beginning to develop in my gut.

I focused on the lines in the road as they blurred before me, realizing we were coming ever closer to the destiny I’d arranged for myself, the Netherworld. I’m not sure how long I zoned out on the dotted yellow lines, or got lost in the fury of my thoughts but, before I knew it, we had driven clean out of Splendor city limits. I didn’t remember turning off the main road but soon we were traveling on a back road, heading for the nearby town of Estuary. This wasn’t the main road to Estuary and it was so poorly maintained and rife with potholes and overgrown weeds, few people traveled this way.

“Portals are pretty far out of the way, huh?” I asked, casting a glance at my vampire driver.

“Yes, quite so.”

I took a deep breath, trying to still the beating of my heart. “Bram, are you frightened at all?”

He glanced at me and wore his confusion. “Frightened?” He said the word as if he didn’t know its meaning.

“Well, it’s been over one hundred years since you’ve been to the Netherworld, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, it has been; but, no, I am not frightened.”

Did I believe him? I wasn’t sure. “Why not?”

He considered the question for a few seconds. “I imagine not much has changed in my absence. The Netherworld is not as progressive as we are, sweet.”

I nodded. I guess that made sense. “Then why does everyone say the Netherworld is so dangerous?”

Bram didn’t respond right away and appeared to be listening to the music, his hand swaying to the tempo as he’d done before. After another few seconds, he apparently remembered my question. “Because it is dangerous. Oh yes … Very much so.”

The road veered around a gnarled oak tree and Bram turned sharply, merging onto a fire road that was completely overgrown with tall weeds that whipped the front of the Porsche as we proceeded. Knowing how much Bram loved his car, I had to imagine this was a huge bummer for him. However, I didn’t want to mention it—I already felt bad that I’d roped him into escorting me, ridiculous conditions or not.

“Are we almost there?” I asked, not intending to sound all of four years old.

“Yes, nearly.”

As the moon broke through the clouds overhead, its milky rays highlighted another craggy oak tree off to our right and Bram put the car in park, turning the engine off. I didn’t say anything but watched him close his eyes as he listened to the music.

“Beautiful,” he whispered while he ran his long fingers along the steering wheel, as if he were playing the very notes we were hearing.

I thought about telling him to pay attention to the task at hand but I suddenly realized this was Bram’s way of accepting the fact that he was about to embark on a voyage that maybe did frighten him. I mean, it had been over one hundred years since he’d been to the Netherworld and who knew why he’d left. Had he been trying to escape something? Someone? The ANC? It’s not as though it would have surprised me to find that Bram’s past had been shady—like I’ve said before, his present wasn’t exactly vanilla. I hadn’t ever considered whether or not Bram returning to the Netherworld would upset him, not to mention be dangerous for him. Who knew if he had enemies there? I was suddenly disappointed with myself. I’d been so consumed with thoughts of Knight and myself, I hadn’t considered Bram’s situation. Course, I also had to imagine that if Bram perceived himself to be in danger by returning, he never would have agreed to it. Still, watching him now, I could tell he was nervous. At the very least, he wasn’t his usual garrulous and confident self.

The last note sounded from the stereo and Bram opened his eyes, turning to face me. He took a deep breath. “Very well.”

Then he opened his door and stood up. I didn’t wait for him to come around and let me out. Instead, I opened my own door which was a bit difficult considering all the tall weeds that pressed against the car door.

“Where do we go?” I asked as I stood up and realized we were completely alone, aside from a steady buzz of the insects, the shadows of a few straggly trees and the briskness of the wind.

“Straight ahead,” Bram answered as he opened the trunk and pulled our two suitcases out.

I glanced around me again, trying to decipher what a portal might look like. “If this is one of the portal locations, why is it so overgrown? It looks like no one has been out here in decades.”

“This portal was a gift to me, sweet.”

I felt my eyes widen. “You mean, this is your very own entrance to the Netherworld?”

“Yes, quite so.”

“But …”

“Of course, once we enter the other side, I must subject myself to the same treatment as other travelers.” I didn’t know what to think so I said nothing but had to admit I was impressed that Bram had been presented with his very own Netherworld entrance. Judging by the dilapidated environs of the portal location, it didn’t surprise me that it had been over one hundred years since he’d last used it.

I watched Bram shut the trunk and lock the Porsche with his key remote. Then he picked up our luggage and started forward, looking like he'd completely lost his mind given the fact that he was out in the middle of BFE but dressed to the nines in a black suit.

He stopped walking once he was parallel with the nearest craggy oak tree and set both of our bags down. He walked to the right until he was completely in line with the tree, then glanced down at his feet and stepped to the side for a count of four. Pivoting on his toes, he turned ninety degrees and took a step forward. It seemed like he was doing the box step or something.

He held his hand out before him and seemed to run it through the air, as if he were practicing synchronized swimming. He repeated the bizarre gesture three more times before I realized he was looking for some difference in the air, probably in temperature, I guessed.

“What are you doing?” I asked, coming up behind him.

He turned to face me and held his hand out to stop my approach. “Do not stand too close, sweet. You could accidentally be pulled in.”

Even though I didn’t know what that meant, it didn’t sound good so I stepped to the side where I didn’t imagine I’d be pulled into any invisible portals.

“I am checking for the portal entrance, sweet.”

I nodded. I’d gotten that much. “How will you know it?”

“The air feels heavier, denser, less airy. Similar to a gel.”

Interesting. He continued to move his hand around, looking like a mime trying to get out of a box. Then a great smile spread over his mouth and he pushed his hand forward, being careful to keep his feet firmly rooted.

“Voila,” he said, glancing over at me with a triumphant smile. I took a step nearer him but he held his hand out to stop me again. “There are three items to consider before we step over, sweet.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Okay.”

He held up his long index finger. “First, do not forget the sky.”

I was about to insist he explain that one but before I could, he was onto point two, middle finger already having joined index finger. “Second, creatures in the Netherworld will not appear the same as they do on Earth. And third, fairies are a special breed in the Netherworld. Creatures will respond to you differently.”

I started to insist he explain that to me but he shook his head. “I’ve located the portal entrance, sweet, and activated it. Therefore, we do not have much time remaining. I will walk through and once I vanish entirely, you must follow within three seconds. You simply step through, allowing your legs to enter before the rest of your body. Once you feel the gel of the portal, close your eyes and hold your breath. Oh and remove your sweatshirt.”

“What?” I started but before I could finish, Bram had our luggage in each hand and with one step, he disappeared right in front of me. Remembering his three second rule, I tore off my sweatshirt and leapt forward and threw one leg into the air where he’d just gone. He was right, it did feel like gel. It wasn’t cold, nor was it hot, it was just a bizarre texture. Suddenly afraid I might lose my leg if the portal inadvertently closed, I lifted my other leg and, inhaling deeply with my eyes shut, propelled myself forward.

It was like being in a wind tunnel for all of one second. I kept my eyes clamped shut as I felt myself dropping even though I wanted nothing more than to scream. Then I remembered Bram telling me to hold my breath.

My feet landed on what felt like pavement and I could feel strong arms around me, holding me upright. Feeling like I might pass out, I inhaled and opened my eyes.

When I focused on the scenery around me, I didn’t know what to think. I blinked a few times almost to make sure I really was seeing what I thought I was and not just some figment of my seriously confused imagination.

But, any way I looked at it, I was outside, on what appeared to be a tarmac, in a line, with a host of people standing single file in front of me. Beyond me were rolling green hills that looked like they were completely untouched by civilization. The green of the hills met the azure of the sky and, feeling like I just walked into the Teletubbies set, a horrible thought suddenly struck me. The sun was out, glaringly obvious in its yellow haven up in the sky, so where was Bram?

That was when I remembered the feeling of arms around me. I glanced up and felt the breath catch in my throat …

Bram was not only standing in the garish sunlight without exploding into dust but he was also stunningly … beautiful. His dark hair was blacker than I could remember it, almost blue in its glossiness and his usual blue eyes had taken on a lavender hue. But it was his skin that had me completely arrested—the color of bronze. He looked like a Greek or Roman God and he was so much … taller than I remembered.

“Bram?” I started. “The sun won’t destroy you?”

“I am free to walk in the daylight in the Netherworld, sweet.” He smiled down at me, completely aware that I was mesmerized by him.

“Why do you look so different?”

He shrugged. “Remember? Creatures in the Netherworld plane are not what you expect them to be.”

I swallowed hard and just nodded dumbly, still unable to stop ogling him. This was beginning to get embarrassing. “Is this your natural state?”

He chuckled, apparently amused by my awe. “Yes, this is a true representation of the vampire.”

“Why can’t I stop staring at you?” I asked, finally okay with admitting the obvious because the truth of it was, I was getting worried.

Bram chuckled again and ran his finger down my cheek. His touch was warm … strangely so, considering he was a vampire. “My powers of persuasion are stronger here, sweet. I shall reduce them for you.” He glanced away from me and when he returned his gaze, his eyes were no longer purple, but back to their usual blue.

Wanting to test my ability to break away from his hypnotic eyes, I glanced down and sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

He chuckled again and before I could respond, I felt something … strange and curious. It sounded like a sheet flapping and I could feel the slightest tickling in my upper, no middle back … It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Before I knew it, I felt lighter, as if I were floating on air. Bram’s grip on my shoulder tightened and when I looked at him in complete confusion, he motioned for me to look down. I glanced at my feet and realized I was hovering a foot or two off the ground.

“What the hell?” I started as the shuffling sound began to accelerate and thrum incessantly, sounding like the beating of … wings?

With a great sense of foreboding, I turned my head to peer behind me and what I saw almost made me gag. Green gossamer wings that reflected the light in an array of glittery patterns met my delirious eyes as they fluttered madly, attempting to keep me airborne …

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I started as I realized fairies did have wings. Well, at least they did in the Netherworld, anyway.

Bram started chuckling again and I turned my narrowed eyes on him. “Shut it,” I growled. “I don’t want to hear one word about this from you.”

“You must learn how to control them, sweet. If not, you will find yourself flying Hades only knows where.”

He released me and, as if to prove his point, my wings began to beat with even more determination as my body drifted upward. Bram caught my arm and pulled me back down again, laughing all the while.

I wanted to cry.

“Did you know I’d sprout wings here?” I demanded. He smiled but said nothing. “A warning would have been nice, Bram.”

“I seem to remember my informing you that creatures would not be as you expect them.”

I frowned. “That is a damn far cry from: ‘Dulcie, don’t freak out but you’re about to have more in common with Tinkerbell than you ever imagined.’”

“I apologize, sweet,” he mumbled.

“Never mind that now,” I said and shook my head, glancing around me at the people in line, only to find they were all staring at me.

“You must stay close to me at all times,” Bram whispered as if, he too, had just sensed I was suddenly the center of attention.

That was when I took note of the “people” surrounding me and found an array of creatures, some in semi-human form such as elves, goblins, fellow golden vampires; while others completely defied explanation. Something that looked like a big blob of reddish fur was standing next to what appeared to be a lizard. But this lizard was standing on two feet and wore some sort of uniform. Both he and the blob of fur were intently staring at me, with expressions I couldn’t read. I glanced behind myself and found another vampire, this one also tall, golden and incredibly handsome. Except he was fair-skinned, where Bram was dark. He, too, was staring at me with the expression of … was it hunger in his eyes? I glanced at the creature behind him, something blue and lumpy, and realized they all had the same starved look but I didn’t think a hamburger would appease them. Theirs was that other sort of hunger.

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I demanded, feeling myself unconsciously leaning toward the strength and protection Bram supplied.

He took a step forward, the line apparently now moving. Grabbing my waist, he carried me with him, being careful to propel our luggage forward with his leg. I watched a were, dressed in a blue and grey uniform, complete with an ill-fitting hat, start at the front of the line, apparently checking for documentation. He wasn’t in his wolf form or anything but I knew he was a were all the same. Guess my ability to detect creatures also worked here. At least some things were the same in the Netherworld as they were in Splendor.

“The fairy is a creature of sexual delight in the Netherworld,” Bram answered and offered me a grin that said he was enjoying every second of this—every second of the fact that I had wings that wouldn’t stop beating, that he looked like every woman’s wet dream come to life and the fact that I was now considered a Scooby snack of the Netherworld.

“What?” I demanded, completely aware that I hadn’t comprehended one word of whatever he’d just said.

“The fairy is a creature of sexual …”

“I got that,” I interrupted, exasperated. “Explain what the hell that means.”

Bram sighed, like I was slow. “It means all creatures will find themselves irrevocably drawn to you, Dulcie sweet. It is your smell, your taste; they find you intoxicating. You are comparable to a drug on the earthly plane.” I couldn’t help but notice he was holding my wrist up to his nose like he could smell the blood in my veins.

“Bram, does that include you??”

“I always have been inextricably attracted.” He nodded with a devilish smile. “Though I can manage it better than … most.”

“Great, just frickin’ great.” I shook my head at the injustice of it all. “Could this get any worse?”

“I will protect you, sweet,” Bram said, offering me a cheery smile. “As long as you are with me, you will be safe.”

I glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “Why, what would they do to me?”

He shrugged, still wearing a smile that said he knew more than he was letting on. “I know not for certain.”

“Um, I think that’s a load of crap, Bram. What is the deal with fairies here?”

“You are … how should I verbalize this? Quite like an erotic delicacy. There are only a few fairies in the Netherworld and perhaps your rarity combined with your beauty is enough to drive even the strongest of creatures to obsession.”

“Oh my God,” I muttered. If I’d wanted to cry before, it was now amplified tenfold. As if to remind me of the fact that my life was sucking huge balls at the moment, my idiotic wings began to beat frantically.

We moved up another notch in line and luckily, Bram maintained his grasp on my arm or I’m sure I would have fluttered away. I glanced ahead of me to see where people were going once they escaped from the line but it twisted and turned so much, I couldn’t make out what was happening. From what I could see, it seemed as if we barely moved at all. And the were in the uniform at the front of the line was arguing with someone, which meant it was going to take just that much longer for us to get the hell out of here.

“Bram, where are we going once we get out of this damn line?” I asked, glancing up at him to find he was staring at me. “Hey, you said you could control your lustful tendencies!”

He chuckled. “They can be quite difficult to control, sweet.” He glanced away before looking at me again. “I made arrangements for a hotel, my dear. From there, I will leave the particulars to you, as I am not mindful of your intentions.”

I figured he meant my plan was moving forward. I actually wasn’t “mindful” of my plan either—I didn’t really have one. Not wanting to focus on my disorganization, I glanced behind me, to see where it was that we’d come from when we dropped out of the portal. I noticed a large building that looked as if it had been constructed in the seventies. Dark windows dominated the square structure and, with the white of the walls, it looked like some government-type building. In black bold letters it read: Association of Netherworld Creatures. So this was the mother ship, the headquarters of the ANC. Somehow, I wasn’t too excited to see it although I’d heard so much about it throughout my career as a Regulator. If I’d always felt a part of the ANC, I didn’t feel that way now. Not since they arrested Knight …

“Has it changed much?” I whispered to Bram, not wanting to attract even more attention to myself, considering everyone around me was still staring at me like I was a Big Mac.

Bram glanced around himself with what appeared to be ennui. “Yes and no.”

I figured we were going to be stuck in this line for a long ass time, seeing as how we’d moved up maybe two feet in two hours. And Bram’s response was just begging to be dissected. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “The building has been updated, the creatures and the scenery have not. It is the same and yet it is not the same.”

Before I had the chance to respond, what appeared to a black-winged bat suddenly appeared in the air. It was the size of an SUV and had fiery red eyes. Its long talons curved into sharp claws, the points of which were just as sharp as its fangs. So, yeah, not exactly a bat, but close enough. It screeched as it flew over us, diving down and swooping over whoever was unfortunate enough to be in its way.

“Bram,” I started as I felt him tighten his hold on me, pulling me closer.

I didn’t get another word out before what appeared to be cannons suddenly rose out from the asphalt. They spun around, seemingly targeting the bat creature as it squawked and darted down again. I lost sight of it but moments later, with the cannons pointed at it, it flew straight up in the air. Something was clutched in its talons and that something was moving. I couldn’t make out exactly what it was but judging by all the creatures in line screaming and running this way and that, I had to imagine the bat creature had just picked off a poor, unfortunate tourist.

“Bram!” I screamed hysterically.

“Shhh, do not attract attention to yourself,” he whispered and began slinking back toward the wall of the building, leaning into it, with me right beside him.

I watched as the cannons spiraled around, trying to stay targeted on the bat creature. But the thing flew incredibly quickly. It pulled whatever was in its talons up to its mouth and began eating it, midair, its victim still trying to tear itself away.

I couldn’t watch anymore and dropped my face into the warmth of Bram’s neck. God! What was this place? What had I gotten myself and Bram into? And where was Knight? Was Knight even alive?

At the sound of firing, I glanced up and watched the cannons shoot a volley of bullets at the creature. But they weren’t bullets that I’ve ever seen—they were fluorescent green, red and yellow laser-like lights. The creature dodged them and flew straight for everyone in line again, dropping whatever it had been munching on as the cannons’ fire merely sizzled in the air and died away.

“Oh my God,” I started and felt like I wanted nothing more than to escape, rather than standing still with Bram as we attempted to hide against the wall. My wings were beating madly.

“Do not move,” Bram insisted. “It can detect movement.”

I had no control over my moronic wings so Bram grabbed them none-too-gently and held them until they were motionless. I could see what looked like glitter all over his hands and on the ground below me.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

Well, his hold wasn’t exactly comfortable but compared to becoming dessert for the bat creature, this was like getting a massage. “No, I’m fine.”

Meanwhile, the demonic beast in the sky continued to circle, watching the various creatures as some slunk against the wall in Bram-style and others continued running around the tarmac fully panicked. It soon became obvious that the creature was selecting its next victim. The cannons continued to spiral, trying to get a clean read on the creature but it always flew one step ahead, as if it were accustomed to this game of cat and mouse.

The creature suddenly leapt upward and then dove down, looking as if it were in a tailspin. Just as it was about to make contact with another creature, the cannons exploded in a coordinated rain of fluorescent bullets, hitting the monster square in the chest. There was definitely a look of shock in its red eyes as it began to plummet out of control. It dropped from the sky, its body covered in what looked like blue ink—its blood, I imagined.

It fell to the ground and the earth shook.

“Welcome to the Netherworld,” Bram said with a smile.

EIGHT

After the attack of the flying rodent, all I could think about was the fact that my parents had lived in this hellish place. I was an American citizen because my mother had come to Earth when she was pregnant with me and I’d been born on American soil and thus granted amnesty but this horrible place was my lineage, my ancestry. The thought made me ill. But what bothered me more was the idea that somewhere in this godforsaken land was my father, that is, if he hadn’t already died.

I’d never met my father and although my mother had died when I was young, I didn’t recall her ever talking about him. And even though I hadn’t thought much about him over the course of my life, I couldn’t help but think about him now, wondering where he lived in the Netherworld, what work did he do, was he still alive? They were futile thoughts, really, because I had absolutely no intention of trying to find him. He’d given up on mom and me, that’s all mom had ever said about him. That she’d severed ways with him and made her own start and that was that.

Yes, that was that.

With weighty thoughts of my father in my head, it felt like at least four hours had passed by the time we finally wound our way to the front of the line. The were in the ill-fitted uniform demanded our documents with an open hand and a frown. Bram handed them over with a self-assured smile and the were glanced at both passports, intermittently looking at both Bram and me with a suspicious glower on his face. After a few minutes, I realized it wasn’t so much suspicion regarding us, per se, but more the natural state of his face.

“What are you doing in the Netherworld and when do you intend to return to ...” He glanced at Bram’s passport again. “Splendor?”

Bram smiled, long and slow. “I am here to introduce my intended to my family and friends and we propose to return in one week’s time.”

His intended? I wanted to gape at him with the expression of WTF plastered on my face but kept my cool. Sometimes it was better to keep one’s mouth closed—especially in a land where enormous bat-like creatures ruled the skies. Eyeing my determined vampire guardian, I’d never been more grateful to have him by my side.

The were took a final inspection of our documents and scrutinized us again. Then he closed the passports, handing them to us with a nod that said he bought Bram’s story. Thank Hades for that.

“Have a good stay.”

“Many thanks,” Bram replied as he grabbed my hand, probably so I wouldn’t float away, and we started forward.

“He didn’t even act like it was a big deal that that … thing just picked off one of the creatures in line,” I said, still in shock. After the cannon guns blew the predator out of the sky, it crashed onto the tarmac and died. Everyone just proceeded with their day, as if they had never been under attack by a gigantic flying death rat. Even now, the thing’s lifeless corpse lay in the same spot, its sightless eyes still wide open while other creatures in uniforms walked around it, apparently discussing what to do with it.

And the unfortunate tourist that got devoured? I had no clue what became of him or her and no one else seemed the least bit concerned …

Bram shrugged. “It is not a big deal, as you say.” Then he glanced at me and smiled knowingly. “Remember this place and these creatures are not at all what you are accustomed to in Splendor.”

“Yeah, I’m more than aware of that,” I grumbled.

We followed the line of people who had just been admitted to passport check through two sliding glass doors. They led down a long hallway and through another pair of sliding glass doors, emptying outside. There, lined up, were what looked like cabs picking up fares and taking them Hades only knew where. As we walked through the first set of glass doors, I noticed we were inside a lobby of sorts. A long desk stood in front of me, behind which sat a bored woman, obviously on duty, who was playing with her nails. She was a shape-shifter of some sort. What sort, however, was a mystery. I couldn’t make out which kind she was and that meant I probably had never come across her type in Splendor. She was attractive with long brown hair and big brown eyes, a smallish round face and a perky, turned-up, Irish nose.

Beside her stood a scaly looking creature that towered more than seven feet tall. It had the face of a Labrador retriever—long, narrow snout with large eyes and a wide mouth, but other than that, I couldn’t compare it to any other creature I’ve ever seen before. It wore the uniform of what I imagined was a security guard, complete with what appeared to be an Uzi strapped to its chest. But what really caught my attention was the bold lettering of “ANC” above the woman’s desk.

So this was the entry to the ANC headquarters ... This was the place, at least I imagined, where I needed to go and spill the beans regarding the truth of what had happened the night I let Quillan go.

I stopped walking and stood there for a second or two before I approached the woman behind the desk, my hand still in Bram’s. I glanced back at him and shrugged. “We’re here so I might as well tell them the truth.” No reason to put off the inevitable, right?

Before I could think another thought, Bram yanked me backward, bouncing me against his chest. “Hey!” I started, realizing he clearly didn’t want me to go anywhere near the woman, the guard or the ANC in general.

“It is never a good idea to drive blindly,” he said.

“What?” I asked, not in the mood to try to figure out his sphinx-like riddles.

“You do not have a plan, sweet, and until you do, it is not a smart idea to go into situations blindly.”

Okay, he had a point. I guess I didn’t have a plan but really, did I need one? My goal was to let the ANC know the truth about what happened with Quillan so Knight could be free and justice could prevail. And the longer I waited …

“Bram, I should just go in there and get it done. That’s what I came here for. There’s no point in taking my time and prolonging it.” I mean, I’d be innocent until proven guilty, right? Appointed a lawyer, that whole bit? That is, if it ever went that far. Really, I was expecting a decently brief investigation and even if I was found guilty, how harsh could my punishment possibly be? I mean, my crime was not being able to shoot and kill someone who was not only my friend, but my boss. Surely someone would understand that?

Bram shook his head and tightened his hold on me, steering me through the second pair of sliding glass doors. When we emerged on the other side, it was night, the sun having literally dropped out of the sky in, oh, possibly two minutes or three at the most. In its place was a dark velvet canopy with no stars, nothing to interrupt the inky black except for an oval shaped moon that appeared so close, I could hit it by throwing a rock.

“As your guardian, I will not allow you to act impulsively,” Bram said and his tone challenged me to argue with him.

Figuring he was right and I should have some sort of plan, I just dropped my head in obedience and mumbled something unintelligible while he glanced around himself, apparently trying to figure out his next move. Ahead of us, vehicles in bright colors continuously pulled up to the curb, picking up creatures and departing again. Bram watched them, as if he were trying to understand how best to attract the attention of the next driver because as soon as one pulled up, it seemed like a horde of creatures descended on it, resulting in pushing, shoving and ugly words.

Bram turned around and faced me, wearing an expression of determination as his gaze settled on my wings. He walked me over to a bench and released my arm. “Grip this, sweet, so you do not fly away. I shall return momentarily.”

I’d almost forgotten about my idiotic wings which, as soon as I remembered them, started beating frantically again. I grabbed hold of one of the wooden slats in the seat bench and begrudgingly gave Bram a nod to say I was fastened down and wasn’t about to go sailing off somewhere. I did notice a few glances my way, mostly starting out as curious, probably because I was clinging to the seat like it was a life rope. Soon the expressions of curiosity dovetailed into that haunted, hungry look I’d witnessed earlier.

This was freaking unbelievable …

The faster I could get out of Dodge, the better. Course, depending on how the situation unraveled, I might be spending a lot more time in the Netherworld than I’d ever hoped or planned for. And that thought caused me an undue level of depression. I had to remind myself that, really, my punishment shouldn’t be much more than a smack on the hand.

Bram waved down a cab, this one a bright yellow and shaped like a mushroom. Actually, it sort of looked like an English taxi. As soon as the crowd began to descend on the cab, Bram hissed at them with his fangs displayed and they backed away. Apparently, vampires were among the higher orders in the Netherworld.

“Come, Dulcie,” he called out, his tone implying the fact that I’d better hurry the hell up about it.

I took a deep breath, images of myself floating away while a big bat-like creature crunched me in its jaws, playing through my head. But I managed to let go and beelined for the cab, my feet lifting in the air as I did so.

“Bram!” I screamed as I searched, in vain, for something to anchor myself to.

He glanced around him, at the crowd who was coming ever closer to stealing the cab but apparently realizing I was about to have a lot in common with a runaway balloon, lurched for me, grabbing me by the waist and, in a vampire split second, dragged us both into the cab, slamming the door behind us. Then we were off. I could only hope our luggage had also made the transition.

“Our bags?” I started.

“In the back,” Bram finished and began smoothing down his shirt, as if it had gotten wrinkled in the process of him securing me and then the cab.

“Where to?” the cab driver asked, glancing over at us. He was an elf but had nothing in common with Quillan. Where Quill had golden curls and hazel eyes, a killer smile and an athletic, lean body, this guy looked more like Jabba The Hut.

“The Grosvenor Hotel,” Bram ordered and then leaned back into the seat beside me, exhaling. It was all put on, of course, because Bram couldn’t breathe. As a vampire, he had no respiratory system so it was all for show—merely to illustrate the point that the last ten minutes had been anything but relaxing.

“Sounds nice,” I said with a nervous smile. I hadn’t exactly detailed who would be paying for this little trip but due to the fact that Bram was here to protect me, I had to imagine the financing would be solely mine.

“Quite so, my dear,” Bram said as he began inspecting his nails. “When forced to travel, it is important to do so in luxury, with the utmost comfort in mind. Spare no detail, spare no expense.”

Great. This was going to cost a freaking fortune. I didn’t say anything though; Bram had taken care of the arrangements. It’s not like I’d volunteered. “What currency?” I started, suddenly panicking that I hadn’t taken the time to convert dollars into … whatever the hell they used here. Come to think of it, I’d been in such a rush to leave, I hadn’t put any thought into any part of the traveling logistics.

“The same currency we use, sweet,” Bram answered with a smile that said he was very pleased with himself since he was on top of things and I wasn’t.

I also breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back into my seat, hoping this cab ride wasn’t going to cost me a fortune. More importantly, I was hopeful Mr. Jabba the Elf would accept Visa because I rarely ever carried cash. Actually, the last time I checked the misery known as my wallet, I had two dollars.

Great.

“Relax and enjoy the ride, folks,” our driver said. I didn’t miss his lustful glance through the rearview mirror. Good thing I was wearing jeans because he was staring right at my lap. Thinking I’d rather focus on the scenery as it passed by my window, I glanced outside, eyeing the row of five square, large buildings, maybe ten floors in each. These also looked as if they were constructed in the seventies.

“What city is this?” I asked the driver, suddenly wondering if the Netherworld was broken into cities.

His brows drew together as if I were stupid for asking and then that expression of lust was right back in his eyes. “Splendor.”

Hmm, so there was a Splendor, Netherworld. just as there was a Splendor, California. Interesting. But this version of Splendor really had nothing in common with the Splendor I knew so well. Aside from the few buildings in what I assumed was the city center, we passed by, maybe, five streets with houses, which also looked like they were built in the seventies. But other than those few croppings of civilization, the rest of Splendor, Netherworld, was completely untamed wilderness—just rolling hills with only bushes and trees to punctuate the landscape. Not that I could really see any of the bushes or trees because it was dark outside; the few street lamps offered only slivers of light.

“So was that the headquarters of the ANC in the Netherworld?” I whispered to Bram, not wanting the elf to eavesdrop on our conversation. ANC business needed to remain just that, ANC business. Course, the driver was probably more than cognizant of where the ANC headquarters was. It’s not like it was a big secret or anything.

“It is, sweet,” Bram answered as he patted my thigh. I started to remove his hand but he made a tsking sort of noise at me. “Demand number three: I am free to touch you whenever and wherever I like and as many times as it pleases me with the post script offered by you that my touch must remain above your clothing.”

I just frowned. He had me.

“Besides, sweet, you do not want to destroy the cover story I so artfully created?”

“That I’m your intended?” I threw it back at him, suddenly feeling irritable with this whole situation. Most of my irritation was reserved for the wings that were completely spastic and useless; and my not being able to control them was exasperating. If that weren’t enough to shove my day into a tailspin, it seemed everyone wanted to bang me and that still wasn’t even the worst of it. I was at risk of getting gobbled up at any second by gigantic flying rodents. That was the worst of it.

“That would be the one,” he said and squeezed my thigh as if to say there was nothing I could do about it.

I glanced outside my window again, wondering when the hell we were going to reach the hotel. It was so dark outside, I could see nothing and now there were no streetlamps at all, just silver signposts every few miles, reflected by our headlights. I couldn’t make out what the signs said until we slowed down to make a right hand turn. I glanced at the signpost and read:

If you experience a breakdown, stay in your automobile at all times.

There was a silhouette of some hideous flying thing just above the warning so I had to imagine this was prime hunting ground for whatever stalked the skies.

Great.

I faced Bram and frowned. “You know, you could have prepared me a little bit more for all this.”

He shrugged, his hand still on my thigh. Thank God I was wearing sweats. “Time was of the essence, sweet.”

“Yes it was but you could have told me more than you did. You work according to your own rules, Bram.” I hadn’t meant for my tone to sound so whiney but there it was.

“I cannot argue that, my dear.”

He didn’t have to because the cab suddenly slowed and I glanced out my window to find what appeared to be a chateau before us—over four stories tall and complete with a stone façade, huge double wooden doors, gargoyles and turrets. It looked like something out of a horror movie.

“Let me guess, this is the Grosvenor?” I grumbled.

Bram smiled. “It appears not to have altered in the one hundred years I have been away.”

“Yep, it’s the same old, weird place,” the elf said and then turned around to face us, obviously expecting to be paid. “That’ll be five hundred.”

“What?!” I barked. “Five hundred dollars?”

“I’m not talking pesos or rubles, honey,” the elf snapped back.

Five hundred dollars for a cab ride? That was just ridiculous and furthermore, I didn’t think I had five hundred dollars in my checking account.

“Do not concern yourself, sweet,” Bram said as he pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. All of them were crisp. Why did I have the feeling he hadn’t acquired them by honorable means? He peeled off five bills and handed them to the elf who just nodded and folded them, putting them in his pocket. Guess tipping wasn’t practiced in the Netherworld. Course, a cab ride at five hundred dollars swallowed up any tip I was ever going to offer, Netherworld or not.

“Go quick so one of those flyin’ sons of bitches don’t get ya,” he warned and then rolled down his window to spit out a huge loogey.

Bram glanced at him in disgust and then opened his door, scanning the skies as he did so. Apparently finding the coast clear, he looked at me. “Stay here, sweet, until I return for you.”

No argument there … I stayed put and watched him walk to the rear of the cab and open the trunk, pulling out our bags. Then I glanced at the elf driver with a frown.

“Aren’t you supposed to help with those?”

“No way in hell,” he shrugged. “I don’t get paid enough to risk my life for bags.”

That was arguable but I stayed silent, watching Bram check the skies again as he hurried to the shelter of the hotel and a bellhop met him at the entrance, taking our luggage inside. Bram then darted back out to the cab with the aid of his vampire speed and opened the door, leaning in.

“Come, sweet,” he said as he ushered me forward. My wings started beating like the tail of a dog excited to go on a walk. I fell into his outstretched arms and looping mine around his neck, allowed him to escort me into the hotel, while I scoured the skies, looking for anything that had claws, wings or a mouth.

Apparently, the flying monster squad wasn’t out tonight because we safely made it to the hotel and Bram set me on the ground, grabbing my hand to keep me from flying away.

“Good evening, Mr. …” the doorman’s voice trailed away as he glanced at the clipboard in his hand, obviously having forgotten Bram’s name.

“Bram,” the dapper vampire finished for him.

“Mr. Bram and his lovely lady guest,” he said, glancing at me. His expression turned to hunger in, oh, three seconds flat. He was a goblin—I could tell by the slight itch in my hand but what section of the gobelinus tree was anyone’s guess. I hadn’t come across his ilk before.

“Thanks,” I said with a hurried smile.

“Please allow me to escort you to check-in,” he continued and bowed like we were royalty or something, facing us as he walked backwards and led us to the front desk. Behind it, a mermaid was acting as desk attendant. This time, I didn’t need my super powers of creature detection to realize she was a mermaid. Her fish tail was obvious enough—along with the four foot makeshift water tank she was comfortably submerged in.

“Welcome to the Grosvenor, are you here to check in?” she asked in a voice that sounded artificially high—like a dolphin’s. That was the only similarity between a dolphin and this legend of the sea. The mermaid was beautiful with curly platinum blonde hair that reached her waist, huge blue eyes and tan skin. I glanced at Bram, only to find he was wholly fixated on her chest which was, so typically, covered with two clam shells. The clam shells really only covered her nipples because her breasts were easily the largest I’d ever seen—like Es bordering on Fs, if those were even legitimate sizes.

“Um, Bram, hello,” I said, sounding every inch the jealous girlfriend or … intended. Sigh.

The bimbo mermaid just giggled when she realized Bram couldn’t unfasten his eyes from her boulders.

“Apologies, miss,” Bram said with a practiced smile. He was smooth, I’d give him that. Bram was the type of guy, or vampire, that never wanted for a bed buddy and watching him carry on with this woman illustrated why. He didn’t falter—he was just pure confidence with a handsome face in an expensive suit.

The mermaid just giggled again in that horrible high-pitched sonar-like voice and Bram smiled more deeply, this time with fangs, like he was showing off. That was when I got pissed off. I wasn’t jealous but I was tired, nervous and … damn it all … sailing off again.

“Bram, honey, can we hurry this up?” I asked, gripping my stomach, enjoying the fact that I was about to put the kibosh on his little flirtation. “Oh, I think I felt the baby move.”

The mermaid silenced her giggle immediately and turned to what appeared to be her list of available rooms. Bram chuckled and shook his head, looking embarrassed if it were even possible for a vampire to look embarrassed. Then he glanced down at me with the look of death in his eyes. I just shrugged.

Hey, I wasn’t interested in watching Bram get his flirt on.

“The only available room is on our fifth floor,” the mermaid said. “It is a king bed.” Then she glanced at me as if to ask if we intended on sharing the same bed. According to Bram’s list of demands, we did.

Bram smiled. “Wonderful.” Then, before I could go through freak out episode number two, regarding the price of the room, he propped his credit card on the counter. I promised myself I’d pay him back later.

“Do you have any preference as to dinner?” the mermaid asked, completely ignoring me and focusing all her attention on Bram again, as if she hadn’t given up.

“What are our choices, my sweet?” he asked, his tone so sickening sweet, I was pretty sure I threw up a little in my mouth.

The mermaid leaned forward against the desk, propping her breasts up against the counter until it looked like her head was in danger of being suffocated. “I’m sure I can arrange for whatever … tickles your fancy.”

“How about sushi?” I interrupted and then laughed acidly. I mean, come on, that had been a good one.

Both Bram and the mermaid frowned at me but Bram realized that I wasn’t in the mood to play third wheel. He sighed and accepted the key to our room, saying thank you as we started towards the grand staircase that dominated the lobby.

“I do not understand women,” Bram said and he didn’t sound happy.

“Why’s that?” I asked but my mind was only partially on the conversation. Instead, the majority of my attention was riveted by the opulence of the lobby. The ceilings must have been thirty feet high, with ornate crown molding delineating the walls from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a chandelier the width of my living room and along each of the walls was a mural of the Greek or Roman gods. I recognized Venus and Diana, the huntress, but that was about it. The flooring was a dark, rich cherry or maybe mahogany, covered with expensive rugs.

“You rebuff my advances at every turn and yet when faced with the possibility of competition, you are most eager to destroy any opportunities I might have.”

Ugh, he was miffed about Flipper. Really? “Bram, we’re here for business and that should be our focus.” I faced him and it didn’t appear he was buying the whole business vs. pleasure argument. “Besides, she’s a mermaid, Bram. Does she even have the right … gear?”

“Gear?”

“Looked like all that was down there was a tail.”

Bram threw his head back and chuckled heartily. “I had not considered that, sweet.”

“See, I did you a favor.”

“So you did, sweet, so you did,” he said as we reached the fifth floor and unlocked our room door. I glanced down the hallway to find the bellhop with both of our bags. They were quick, I’d give them that. Then I took a deep breath as I faced the room that Bram and I were to share for the next Hades only knew how long.

NINE

It felt like maybe I was having a panic attack. My heart pounded in my chest and I was finding it difficult to breathe, my breaths coming in short, shallow spurts. It all began as soon as I thought about my mission to march up to the front desk of the ANC Headquarters and announce the fact that I was the perp involved in a crime.

And I’d already had my opportunity, already had my chance to get this off my chest. It would have been so easy, so quick and I would have spared myself all this anxiety, which in a word, sucked. But, no, Bram insisted I needed a plan.

I sat down on the king-sized bed I would share with Bram, draped with a horrible pink, green and blue plaid coverlet that looked vintage 1962. It matched the floor to ceiling curtains, which framed the only window in our room; and the pink of the curtains was the exact shade of the shag carpeting. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the hideous carpeting, comparing the antiqued pink to some shade I’d seen before in an attempt to calm myself down. “I thought you said this hotel was really nice,” I grumbled, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Bram smiled down at me. “I also recall expressing the idea that the Netherworld is quite behind the times.”

Yeah, so he had. Not that it mattered to me anyhow. What mattered now was trying to catch my breath and breathe normally. Holding my head in my hands, I leaned over and put it between my knees, trying to stop myself from fainting.

“What is the problem, my dear?” the golden-skinned vampire asked me. I glanced up at him and felt like laughing because he was trying his best to look concerned. It wasn’t an emotion that suited him at all, mainly because it wasn’t real. Bram just wasn’t concerned about other people, period.

“You should have let me take care of my business at ANC Headquarters, Bram. That’s what I’m here for. The longer we wait, the more time we waste, and who the hell knows what is happening to Knight.” My voice sounded like I was on the verge of completely losing it, which was fitting because it was probably true.

Bram arched a brow at the mention of Knight but didn’t lose his cool. “I am quite certain the Loki is unscathed, sweet.” A smile pasted itself on his face as he quickly abandoned all thoughts about Knight in favor of subjects more attractive to him. “And as to your rampaging into the ANC office and declaring your guilt; as I mentioned earlier, it would not behoove you.”

“If I …” I started but was interrupted when Bram shook his head and made a tsking sort of sound.

“Chaos results from a lack of planning, my dear.”

“Stop calling me ‘my dear.’ It bugs me.” And that wasn’t all that bugged me. Bram was super annoying when he was right and in this case, I had to admit, he was. I mean, planning always seemed to be a good thing to do in general. And, given the fact that I really had no idea where I was nor any clue as to the rules of the Netherworld, planning was probably not only important, but paramount to my survival.

“Very well, my sweet.”

I sighed. Yes, Bram was right about the whole planning bit but his being right didn’t help my feeling like I was going to throw up. “So, what? I’m just supposed to spontaneously come up with a plan?”

He nodded but said nothing and I realized how impossible that feat was. I was having a difficult time as it was just trying to talk myself out of passing out, throwing up or erupting into a fit of tears.

“I can’t even think!” I yelled and, feeling dizzy, I dropped my head into my hands again.

“Perhaps you would welcome the insight of your guardian then?”

I glanced up at him, relieved. I’d welcome anything as long as it meant I didn’t have to think for myself. “Yes!”

He smiled and buffed his nails against his shirt. “If I were in your situation, Dulcie love, I would first appraise what is at stake.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I sounded defeated—exhausted, unhappy and completely overwhelmed, which was basically how I felt. I didn’t want word games; I just wanted to be advised of what my next move should be to which I could agree or disagree. I just wanted my life to ease up a little. Really, was that too much to ask for?

Bram shrugged, his expression said he didn’t understand what I was so conflicted about. “It is best to understand what your punishment would entail before you come valiantly charging in only to find yourself in hot water, which could have been avoided.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care what my punishment is. I just want to get this off my chest and let justice run its course.”

“Justice is quite different in the Netherworld than what you are accustomed to in Splendor.”

I frowned, not imagining my punishment could really be so brutal. “Bram, I’m guilty of allowing Quillan to escape. It’s not like I killed someone or robbed a bank. I wasn’t involved in illegal narcotics. Really, how bad could it be?”

He chuckled and shook his head at my apparent naiveté. “Famous last words.”

I stood up and ran my hand through my hair, exasperated not only with the conversation but the whole situation. “What do you propose I do, then?”

He smiled languidly and took a seat on the bed, focusing on me. His gaze traversed my body, starting with my bust, then traveling southward.

“I’m not in the mood for sexual innuendo,” I muttered, as I realized exactly what he was proposing. I let out a long sigh and wished I could be anywhere but here. There was so much I needed to do, so much to think about and Bram’s libido wasn’t on my list.

He brought his eyes to my face but that flirty smile was still in full effect. “I propose we attend the Loki’s hearing, learn what his punishment is.”

“What if he’s already had his hearing?”

“At the time we crossed through the portal, such was not the case.”

I frowned, as my head began to pound from a stress-induced headache. “And how in the hell do you know that? Furthermore, how were you able to find that out?” I mean, shit, I had no idea that Knight hadn’t had his hearing yet and I was much closer to ANC business than Bram was, right?

“Friends in high places, sweet,” Bram said mechanically.

I wasn’t in the mood to press him for details. I was too interested in the plan that was currently taking shape in his head because so far, I actually agreed with it. “Okay, so Knight’s hearing hasn’t happened yet and we attend it … What then?” Suddenly, something occurred to me. “What if it’s a closed trial?” That would put a huge damper on our plans if it weren’t a public trial. I wasn’t even sure what we’d do at that point.

“That would be a regrettable detail.” Bram nodded. “I will leave it up to you to find out whether or not it is open to the public, sweet.”

I frowned, thinking the answer was as easy as just showing up to the courthouse to see if we could get in. “Bram, all we have to do is find out in person …”

“No,” he was quick to respond. “It is not a wise idea to risk your safety.”

“How is that risking my safety?”

“Until we know what we are facing, it is not wise for the ANC to know you are in the Netherworld.”

“But my passport,” I started.

“Was in a fictitious name,” Bram interrupted.

“Oh,” I said, revealing the fact that I’d been so preoccupied with portals and winged creatures that I hadn’t even glanced at my fake passport. Well, it seemed Bram really had taken care of everything.

“Your identity is completely safe and hidden and I would prefer to keep it that way.” He eyed me with one raised brow. “In fact, if your magic worked here, I would suggest you magick yourself a new appearance. Unfortunately, however, your magic is useless.”

Hmm, that was a surprise to say the least. What a bummer this Netherworld was—making my magic utterly useless.

So back to the subject of the trial; I guess I had some homework where Bram’s plan was concerned. Not a big deal. I could call Dia and find out whether or not the trial was open. I was also pretty sure I could call the ANC here; but as Bram had pointed out, it was better to be as discreet as possible. No reason to take a hot bath, or whatever Bram said. No, Dia would offer the best solution. Somehow, I had to imagine she had contact with the ANC Netherworld and could find out details regarding Knight’s trial in a second. “Okay, what then?”

Bram smiled again and it was pretty obvious he was impressed with himself. “Once we learn of the Loki’s punishment, we will devise our plan.”

I frowned. The momentum of Bram’s plan had been building up and then, smack! Right into a wall. “What kind of plan is that? We devise a plan? That isn’t even a plan at all!” I shook my head, feeling like I wanted to cry again. “Seriously? Our plan is to plan?”

The smile on Bram’s face fell away replaced by straight-lipped irritation. “The point, my sweet, is that the Loki’s punishment might not be at all severe and if not, you should not endanger yourself unnecessarily.”

And just like that, I felt like we were back to square one. That is, with no plan at all. “Ugh, that is just dumb, Bram. I should have already gone to the ANC and been done with it.”

He stood up and approached me. “Think about this a moment, Dulcie.” He rarely called me by my name, so this had to mean he was serious. And Bram being serious wasn’t something I witnessed all too often, if ever. “The Loki insinuated himself on your behalf for a reason. He must have believed he would fare better in Netherworld Court than you would.”

That was true and Knight had said as much when I first learned that he was being brought in for interrogation. “Go on.”

“Perhaps the Loki is correct. What if his punishment is miniscule compared to what you would incur?”

I gulped. Now he sounded just like Knight. Thinking the Netherworld would be more lenient on him than I, given that I was an ex-ANC junior officer and he was a high-ranking official, Knight took the blame. “Okay, you have a point,” I started. “But what if his punishment isn’t miniscule?”

Bram shrugged. “Then you state your case.”

Any way I looked at it, aside from the “we’ll deal with it when and if it comes” portion of Bram’s “plan,” it seemed to be sound. Actually, it was the only plan I had. Maybe Bram was right and Knight would merely get a slap on the wrist. What if his punishment weren’t really anything serious? Maybe he and Bram were correct; maybe I would fare much worse? But, really, where the line was drawn between a brutal punishment and a slap on the wrist, I had no clue. I had nothing to go by.

I sighed. “I guess we have a plan.” It came down to the fact that I didn’t have an alternative.

Bram smiled at my consent before his cheeks flushed and he looked me up and down again, obviously seeking to change the subject. It was almost like he had ADD. He seemed only able to concentrate on weighty matters for so long before hunger for blood or sex took over. His fangs lengthened as I watched him, something that usually happened only when a vampire was sexually excited or hungry. I eyed him suspiciously. “Bram, when was the last time you fed?”

He inhaled at the mention of feeding and tore his gaze from my bust, finding my eyes again. “It has been a long while, sweet.”

I swallowed hard. A hungry vampire isn’t something to be taken lightly. Additionally, I’ve never allowed the undead to snack on me and I don’t ever intend to. “Then maybe you should go find a willing donor.”

He stood up and approached me, as I took a few steps back, finding myself buttressed against a veneered chest of drawers from the fifties. Before I could sidestep, he was directly on me, his hands on each of my thighs. He pushed my legs apart and nestled himself between them. I considered pushing him away and trying to escape but decided against it. Running from a vampire is very similar to running from a bear—you don’t do it. Better to just play dead.

“Bram, I’m not interested in playing host.”

He smiled but said nothing, softly brushing my hair behind my neck as my wings danced madly. “What are you …” I started.

“Shhh, sweet,” he whispered and his breath caused goose bumps along my throat. “In the Netherworld, I do not feed in the manner to which you are accustomed.”

“What does that mean?” I demanded. “You’re a bloodsucker any way you look at it.”

He shook his head, his smile still in full effect. “Not here. Here I feed off energy, not blood.”

“Energy?” I repeated, sounding like an idiot. “How? What does that even mean?”

He didn’t respond but placed his hand on my chest, just below my collarbone. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he did so. A slight moan escaped his lips at the same time as another smile broke across his face. He looked like he was in the throes of an orgasm.

“Bram?” I asked, wondering what the hell was going on. He was feeding; that much was obvious. And I guess it was also pretty obvious that he was feeding off me—tapping into my energy? I didn’t know what to think. Yes, I vowed never to play buffet to the undead, but did this really count? The more I thought about it, the more I concluded it didn’t count.

“Do you feel anything?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

I was quiet as I considered his question. There definitely wasn’t any pain. Some weariness, but no particular excitement or ecstasy. I basically felt exactly the same as I had a few minutes ago. “No.”

He opened his eyes and focused them on me. They were the deepest blue I’d ever seen them, almost black. “Ah, shame.” I watched as the indigo of his eyes dissolved, replaced by pure black, as if his pupils had swallowed his eyes. I tried to pull my gaze from his but felt trapped. And then it hit me.

Complete ecstasy, a blissful euphoria circulated my entire body, beginning at the spot where Bram’s skin touched mine and arcing out in a pulse throughout my body. It was like cresting on a wave of perpetual delight over and over again. I gasped in shock and found Bram smiling down at me.

“What did you do to me?” I demanded, my voice breathless.

“I removed my screen.”

“Your screen?” I repeated, before closing my eyes and trying to restrain the giddiness that flowed through me. It wasn’t a purely sexual feeling. I mean, that part was certainly there, but it was more like a feeling of unbridled joy throughout my body. It reminded me of how I felt when I was taking the illegal narcotic, Mandrake.

“I have put up a guard where you are concerned, Dulcie sweet,” Bram continued, bringing his other hand to my shoulder. At his touch, my knees buckled. He grabbed hold of both my arms and pulled me into him, pressing my cheek against his upper chest. I felt my eyelids clench tightly and I could barely handle the feelings of euphoria as they flowed inside me. Had Bram released me, I would definitely have fallen down.

“Are you feeding on me?” I asked, although I already knew what the answer was.

“Yes.”

Somehow the realization that he was feeding off my energy didn’t bother me, or even upset me like I thought it would. Somehow it was something beautiful, something that made me weak in the knees, something I wanted more of. Something that I never wanted to end.

Bram suddenly pulled away from me and walked me to the bed. He sat me down and let go of my arms, taking a few steps back as if he were afraid I would attack him, demanding more. Who knows, maybe some of his donors did.

“Do you feel well?” he asked.

I shook my head, as the remnants of bliss began to leave me and cold, hard reality started to sink in. I glanced up at him, suddenly feeling angry and betrayed, used. “So let me get this straight,” I started, taking a deep breath to regain my balance, but still feeling a little bit wobbly and unsteady. “The reason for your list of demands was to secure your meals?” I mean, it all made sense … The part about sharing a room, touching me whenever he felt like it … If the only way for Bram to feed was by absorbing energy from me, he’d set himself up for that and then some.

“Very astute of you,” he answered without even the trace of an apology.

Anger continued to simmer within me as I realized just how self-centered he was. “Bram, have you ever considered just asking for something instead of sneaking around like some subhuman species?”

Bram chuckled as if he enjoyed being compared to a subhuman species. “Would you have agreed?”

Hmm, that was a good question. In general, I didn’t like the idea of serving as a snack to any creature but since Bram was my only ticket to the Netherworld, I think I had my answer. “Yes, albeit unhappily.”

“Very well then, I apologize.”

I frowned. “It’s too little, too late, but never mind; I’ve got information to hunt down.” Namely, whether or not Knight’s trial was public. I glanced at the dial face and cord of the ridiculously old-looking phone beside the bed. “Will this thing call Splendor … I mean Earth Splendor?”

Bram shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. A century ago, the Netherworld had no telephones.”

I sighed as I reached for my purse, pulling out my cell phone which had no bars displayed. I guess Verizon didn’t work everywhere after all. After I found Dia’s phone number, I picked out the numbers on the dial and turned it after every one. Then I waited until I heard the tinny sound of the phone lines connecting.

“Dia Robinson, Moon ANC, how may I help?” She obviously didn’t recognize the number, otherwise I would have been greeted with “This is Diva.”

“Dia, it’s Dulcie.”

“Girl, where the hell are you calling from and please don’t tell me it’s the Netherworld.”

I sighed. “The Netherworld.”

“Unfreakingbelievable!” She laughed, sort of. “How the heck did you pull that off? I never even got back to you about the passport thing. I was hoping you’d forget about this ridiculous mission but not you.” Then she laughed good and hard. “What was I thinking?”

“Well, needless to say, I took care of it.”

“I can see that! So how do I help you now, Ms. Nuisance?”

It was my turn to laugh. “You know I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t trust you like my own sister?”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop buttering me up ’cause I don’t swing that way.”

I laughed harder and then took a deep breath. “D, I need you to find out if Knight’s trial is open to the public.”

“You could call and find out yourself.”

“Yeah, I know but I’m trying to keep as low a profile here as I can.”

There was silence on the other end. “Sounds like you are, at least, being smart about this. That’s good.” Yeah, and I guessed I owed Bram for the whole “being smart about this” bit. “How is it there, anyway?”

“Crazy and horrible and if I never come here again, it will be too soon.”

“That great, huh?”

I glanced at Bram who checked his watch as if to say I’d been on the phone too long. “Yeah. Well, anyway, I gotta get going. Thanks for your help though. You can call me on this line once you find out about the trial.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks, D.”

“Welcome, Dulce. You take care of yourself, girl, you hear me? I want you home in one piece.”

I sighed. “Thanks, D, I will.”

We said our good-byes and I hung up, suddenly feeling homesick and depressed. Yes, I promised her I would stay safe but I had to wonder if I just lied to her without even realizing it.

***

As it turned out, Knight’s trial wasn’t closed. And it was scheduled for the very next day which suited my needs perfectly. I was beginning to feel like an anxious mess the longer we waited for the inevitable to happen.

After I ended my phone call with Dia, Bram took me for a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant. I thought the scenery of the Grosvenor Hotel was something out of the Brady Bunch and the food was no different. I had cheese fondue with Caesar salad, a side of macaroni and cheese and Baked Alaska for dessert. And to drink? Dr. Pepper or Hi-C Hawaiian Punch.

After that bland and less than satisfying dinner, I felt reluctant to retire for the night because I knew, only too well, what awaited me … fighting off Bram’s sexual advances.

Once he unlocked the door to our room, I took a deep breath and faced him, hoping he wouldn’t get any ideas although I was sure it was too late for that. “I’m exhausted.”

He smiled knowingly. “Very well, you should sleep.”

Vampires don’t sleep much so I had no idea what he planned to do while I got my zzz’s but I couldn’t say I really cared either. I threw my suitcase on the bed and began rifling through it, looking for my jammies.

“Please do not forget our contract,” Bram said as he watched me pull out a white T-shirt and blue and white striped short shorts.

I glanced at him and frowned. “I haven’t forgotten and yes, I am well aware of our contract.”

He took a seat in one of the two club chairs, each beside the bed, stretching his long legs out before him, and linking his arms behind his head as he settled in for the show. A long, slow smile spread across his face.

“I am waiting,” he prompted.

I shook my head, silently bemoaning the fact that I’d ever agreed to this as I leaned over to untie my shoelaces and pull off my sneakers. As far as I was concerned, this was going to be the shortest disrobing ever. After I pulled off my shoes and socks, I pulled my sweats down and stepped out of them. I glanced up at Bram. Why? I wasn’t sure, but found his eyes riveted on me.

“Very lovely legs,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” I said and taking a deep breath, pulled my T-shirt over my head, exposing my bra. Of course, nothing in my life is easy so the T-shirt got caught up on my idiotic wings. I wrestled with the T-shirt and my wings for about two minutes before Bram chuckled and stood up, approaching me.

He reached behind me and helped push my wings through the neck of the T-shirt. Then he stood in front of me, smiling down at me like I was some kind of big idiot.

“Would you prefer to deliver your kiss now or later?” he asked loftily.

Dammit, I forgot about the kiss I’d agreed to give him each day … with tongue. Ugh. “Let’s just get it over with,” I grumbled.

His eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “Get it over with? No woman has ever said as much to me before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything.” I shook my head and craned my neck upwards. “Pucker up, baby.”

I wasn’t actually prepared for Bram’s kiss. I thought it would just be an innocent enough peck with a bit of tongue peeking through, but such wasn’t the case. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, pushed me against the wall and brought his lips to mine gently, kissing and biting at my lower lip. After a few seconds, I felt his tongue in my mouth and, thinking I needed to keep my end of the bargain, I met his tongue with mine. After what felt like another minute, I pulled away.

I have to confess, Bram wasn’t a bad kisser. In fact, he, um, was a pretty good one.

He smiled down at me. “I quite enjoyed that, sweet.”

“Yeah, well, I’m getting tired so let’s get this show on the road,” I said, perhaps a little too gruffly, as if trying to hide my flushed cheeks and racing heartbeat.

And Bram didn’t miss a thing. I silently grabbed my night shirt, unclasped my bra and pulled it off. Then, in a split second, I had my night shirt over my head, which caught on my wings again …

“Son of a!” I yelled, realizing my breasts were completely visible.

Bram’s chuckle deepened as I felt his hands smoothing the shirt over my wings. “I believe I need to cut a hole in your shirt, sweet.”

“Okay, fine,” I said in an exasperated sigh.

Bram merely leaned down and tore the shirt with his fangs. I heard the sounds of fabric ripping, after which he smoothed the T-shirt over my wings. Glancing down to see I was finally covered, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I pulled out my pajama shorts and put them on over my thong underwear, even though I usually didn’t sleep with panties. In this case, however, I figured Bram had already had an ample eyeful of my breasts and I wasn’t in the mood to share anymore.

“Good night,” I said and before he could argue, I drew the blankets down, crawled into bed and turned off the table lamp beside me.

TEN

“Please do not do anything rash,” Bram said as we stood outside the ANC courthouse. It was the same building we entered at the “airport” when we first arrived in the Netherworld.

“Rash?” I repeated, shaking my head as if “rash” weren’t even a consideration, as if my MO merely consisted of “even-keeled,” “thorough” and “deliberate.” I started for the glass entry doors and threw Bram a backwards glance. “I’m fully aware of our plan.”

Bram said nothing else but, judging by his body language, it didn’t appear he was convinced. He easily caught up with me and accompanied me through the double doors. Once inside, the first thing that commanded my attention was the metal detector that blocked the only hallway in the room. The same bored woman was sitting behind the long desk at the front of the lobby; and, yes, she was still entirely fixated on her nails. The uniformed guard I’d seen last time wasn’t there this time.

I glanced at the metal detector and the creature behind it, who was so small, he was seated on a stool. It was a creature I’d never seen before—small as I mentioned—maybe as tall as my knees and as thin as my legs. It was covered with snowy white fur and almost looked like a monkey—like someone had taken a monkey and stretched him out. It wore a uniform so I assumed it was an ANC employee. And I guess that was made even more obvious by the fact that it was working the detector.

“Please empty your pockets and place your purse on the conveyor belt,” the monkey-like creature said in a high-pitched voice that sounded almost robotic.

Good thing I hadn’t brought my Op 6. Well, that is, good thing Bram insisted I leave my weapon in the hotel room, saying I needed to remain under the radar. I’m sure if I happened to pull the Op 6 out of my shoulder holster now, I’d have lots of questions I wasn’t in the mood to answer. And a blown cover to boot.

I plopped my purse on the conveyor belt and walked through the detector, silently relieved when it didn’t go off. I waited nervously while I watched the x-ray image of my purse on the screen as it came out the other side of the conveyor. I snatched it off the belt and turned to see how Bram was faring. When the vampire walked through the detector, it screeched at him with a litany of bells and flashing lights and, if it were possible for a vampire to look stunned, that was how Bram looked. A few seconds later, a burly were materialized—like the air had just spit him out. He was dressed in an identical uniform to the elongated monkey man and had a dour expression on his unshaven face. He motioned for Bram to hold his arms out “T” style and spread his legs. Then he frisked Bram and I had to admit it was pretty amusing, despite Bram’s tight-lipped expression, which showed little humor.

“Do you know where Room 101B is located?” I asked the monkey man. Dia, great sleuth that she was, not only found out that Knight’s trial was public but also learned what room it was in. It was good to have friends high up on the ANC ladder.

The monkey creature nodded and pointed down the hallway. His hand had only three fingers, all of which were bright orange and knobby. “First door on your left,” it said in that robotic voice.

“Thanks,” I responded as I started for the hallway before remembering Bram. I glanced behind me and found him wearing the same vexed expression, now complete with furrowed brow, as he slipped his Rolex back on his wrist and immediately emptied the tray full of change back into his pocket.

“Stop screwing around, Bram,” I said with a smile, enjoying the fact that the overconfident vampire had to be bothered with security checks.

He joined me in the hallway and I took a deep breath as I faced Room 101B, realizing this was the moment of truth, the determinant of my next course of action—which could and most probably would change the direction of my life. I suddenly felt as if my heart had jumped into my throat. I was lightheaded and dizzy again, my nerves frenzied.

“Are you feeling well?” Bram whispered as he placed his large hand on my shoulder. I glanced up at him and smiled in thanks. I paused for another few seconds and opened the door.

It wasn’t a huge room—maybe fifty feet by fifty feet, very plain with its off-white walls. There were about ten rows of wooden, fold-up chairs arranged in amphitheater style for the audience and of those chairs, only about half were occupied. I glanced to my immediate right and noticed the last row empty, so I slid into the second chair down. Some sort of enormous, gelatinously blobby creature sat directly in front of me, which suited my needs perfectly. I would be completely obscured behind it and, for that matter, so would half of Bram. Bram nodded his approval and slunk into the seat beside me. I didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the creatures because I was searching furiously for any sign of Knight.

He hadn’t yet arrived; and, as far as I could tell, neither had the judge.

As to the courtroom itself, it reminded me of the ANC courtrooms I was accustomed to. There were tables located on either side; I presumed for the defense and the prosecution. The judge’s box stood in the center of the room and there was a single row of fold-up chairs to the left of the judge for the jury, I guessed. The witness’ box was beside the judge’s stand and the court reporter (a troll) sat beside it.

The troll looked incredibly pissed off. That wasn’t too surprising because trolls, in general, are always pissed off. What did surprise me was the fact that a troll was the court reporter because they aren’t especially intelligent, as a rule, and their spelling is atrocious. This one, like most, was short and stocky with a bright red, bulbous nose, long stringy hair, beady eyes and skin that looked like someone had thrown pebbles into drying cement.

Instead of displaying the United States flag behind the judge’s box, there was a flag I’d never seen before. It was completely black, save a white line that ran the perimeter and four vertical lines that decorated the right side. Hmm, must have been the flag of the Netherworld, if I had to guess.

Only the disgruntled court reporter and two women who sat at the prosecution table on the left of the judge’s stand were in attendance. Both women’s backs were facing me so I couldn’t discern who they were or what role they played in all of this.

“Where are …” I leaned into Bram and started to ask about the whereabouts of Knight and the judge.

But I was stopped cold by the sight of a Chimera as it appeared in the doorway that opened into a hallway of holding cells. I’d never seen a Chimera before but I knew it immediately—mainly by its incredible size (it had to stoop over to fit through the doorway) and its three heads—those of a lion, a ram and a dragon. The Chimera’s body looked basically like an enormous goat with the tail of a dragon. Looking ridiculous, it was dressed in a blue and white uniform and, I could only guess, was acting as bailiff. It wore a nametag but unfortunately, I couldn’t read what it said.

The lion head opened its mouth and said in a deeply robust voice: “All rise for the honorable Judge Thorne.”

Everyone in the audience as well as the two women in the front of the room stood up so Bram and I followed suit. The troll stayed seated and just “harrumphed” unceremoniously.

My eyes were glued to the doorway as I watched a vampire saunter in, dressed in a floor-length red robe. He was incredibly handsome (I was beginning to realize all vampires were)—very tall and broad-chested with dark, wavy, brown hair and green eyes that dazzled in his face like gems. Before he took his seat, he glanced around the room, smiled at the women at the prosecution table and then whispered something to the Chimera. Something that was probably along the lines of: Where the hell is the defendant?

The Chimera seemed suddenly embarrassed, probably by the fact that it had forgotten to present the accused. Well, at least its lion and ram heads appeared embarrassed—the dragon head must’ve had ADD because it glanced around the room so repetitiously, it looked like it was doing an impersonation of Stevie Wonder. With a grunt, it disappeared down the hallway. A few minutes later, it re-emerged, one of its hooves dragging a long chain across the brown carpeting. I followed the links of the chain with my eyes, my heart in my throat, as I waited for it to reveal the accused and, when it did, I felt my heart stop for at least a few seconds.

Knight.

Yes, I could recognize him and yes, he was the same Knight I knew so well. But at the same time, he appeared different. It must’ve been due to the fact that I was seeing his true Loki Netherworld appearance. And in a word, he was … breathtaking.

Descended from the soldier race of the Netherworld, which was bred to protect, Knight was immense. He’d always struck me as a huge guy but this was beyond huge. He had to be over seven feet tall and was almost as broad as the creature seated in front of me. His hair was glossy black and the chiseled angles of his face seemed sharper somehow. He was stunning, absolutely stunning.

Once I’d gotten over my initial shock at Knight’s appearance, I was able to take in the rest of him. He was dressed in a two-piece, black prisoner uniform, his hands cuffed and chained, as well as his feet. His hair was buzzed short and I glimpsed a huge gash on his right cheek that looked fresh. The other side of his face was marred by a black eye and split lip.

Anger boiled up within me and I felt my hands fisting in my lap. How dare they treat him this way! He was a high ranking ANC official! He didn’t deserve to be dressed in the garb of murderers and rapists and he most definitely didn’t deserve to be beaten. My breathing was coming in short spurts and it was all I could do to remain in my seat.

Luckily, Knight didn’t observe the audience because I really didn’t want him to notice Bram and me. Of course, we were seated so far back and obscured by the blob-like creature in front of us, that had Knight wanted to see the onlookers, he probably would never have spotted us.

I was relieved of my worry because Knight took no notice of the audience and, instead, faced the judge and there was no trace of subservience in his demeanor. He acknowledged the judge with a nod and allowed the Chimera to lead him to the empty table. The Chimera pulled out the chair as he yanked on Knight’s chains, forcing him down. Knight remained silent but glared at the ugly beast.

The judge took his place at the stand and announced to the Netherworld citizens: “Please be seated.” Everyone did as requested. “Following is a case regarding the Association of Netherworld Creatures versus Knightley Vander.”

I wondered why there didn’t appear to be anyone appointed to defend Knight and the twelve or so jury chairs had remained empty. How could this be fair in any way? How could there be a prosecution with no defense? It seemed like the case was already doomed.

My thoughts were interrupted when one of the women seated at the prosecution table stood up and faced the judge. She was very pretty and rather tall for a woman, probably about five foot ten. She had extremely thick, long, red hair with black lowlights that fell below her shoulders. She was dressed in a purple and black suit that contrasted with her blue eyes. In her hands, she held a piece of paper.

“Very good, Ms. Jenson,” the judge said with a smile, encouraging her to proceed.

The woman, who seemed to be in her middle twenties, had the definite aura of a witch. She turned to face the assembly and, in a nervous voice, read out: “The Association of Netherworld Creatures charges that on or about March 5, 2011, in the earth’s realm of California, in the District of Splendor, the defendant, Knightley Vander, who was representing the Association of Netherworld Creatures Splendor, did fail to take into custody Quillan Beaurigard, despite ample opportunity. This is in violation of Article 23, Netherworld Code, Section 34456.”

When she finished reading the formal indictment against Knight, she smiled prettily at the audience and the judge before retaking her seat. The judge nodded and addressed the woman beside Ms. Jenson.

“Ms. Brandenburg,” he said, eyeing her hungrily. The woman stood up, frowning at the vampire judge, in a tacit announcement that she didn’t approve of his lascivious glances where she was concerned.

“Your honor,” she said with tight-lipped reserve.

“Have you anything to say in defense of the accused?” the judge asked as he leered at her figure from head to toe.

The woman faced Knight and offered him a kind smile that seemed mired in pity. She turned to the spectators and I realized how attractive she was. She was a shape-shifter; I could feel it in my gut. It took me a few more seconds to discern that she could shift into a cheetah. Once I knew that, I could see the proof in her face—cat’s eyes and high cheekbones. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties and tall, though not as tall as Ms. Jenson who, judging from the context, might have been her assistant or coworker. Ms. Brandenburg was probably about five foot eight with long, brown, wavy hair, diffused with blonde highlights. Her eyes were nearly the same shade of blue as Ms. Jenson’s. She wore a brown two-piece suit that hugged her lithe frame and visibly appealed to the judge.

“As my assistant mentioned,” she began and I gave myself silent kudos for figuring out the nature of their acquaintance, “Mr. Vander is charged with failing to apprehend Quillan Beaurigard.”

“I believe this case is fairly straightforward?” the judge asked and when she nodded, he continued. “In fact, the accused has already pled guilty and yet you still demand a hearing, Caressa?”

I was surprised when he called her by her first name. Such familiarity, but, when in the Netherworld … I guess. I saw Caressa tighten her lips, making it more apparent than ever that she didn’t like the judge. With the way she was glaring at him, I daresay she couldn’t stand him.

“Yes, that is so,” she started. “And though the accused has confessed, I believe there is more to this case than meets the eye.”

“How so?” the judge asked in a bored tone.

Caressa took a deep breath. “I have known Knightley Vander for some time, your honor,” she started. I felt myself leaning forward with surprise. “He and I worked together for the ANC when we were Junior Regulators and from there, we worked our way up the proverbial ladder. In other words, Knightley Vander and I were coworkers for over ten years. In that time, I believe I got to know him extremely well and I believe him to be an honorable, hardworking and just man. He never shirked responsibility and he was an absolute tiger in the face of crime.”

The judge frowned as if he weren’t buying an ounce of her story. “That is all very lovely, Caressa, but what does it have to do with this case?” he asked. Now, I found myself beginning to seriously dislike him. At least Knight had a friend in Caressa and, since she came to the hearing (either by subpoena or otherwise), I assumed she had to have been a decently high ranking official. Hopefully, she would prove to be useful.

“If you would allow me to finish,” she snapped while shooting daggers at the judge with her eyes.

“Excuse me, but weren’t you brought here as a witness for the prosecution?” the judge interrupted, obviously not interested in details about Knight’s innocence.

I was surprised to hear Caressa was the prosecution’s witness because she had just stood up in his defense.

“I’m not a witness for either side,” Caressa retorted at the asshole judge. “As there was no defense attorney supplied for Mr. Vander, I am attempting to present an unbiased case.”

It was deeply disturbing that Knight had no attorney. I could only wonder why they had a hearing to begin with? Based on Caressa’s statement, she, too, was appalled by the injustice of it all. I didn’t know why, but it appeared the odds had been stacked against Knight on purpose. Due to Knight’s previous confession, no one cared to hear anything more. No one, that is, except for Caressa and me, of course.

“Introduce any contingencies to the case, Caressa, and move on with it,” the judge said as he stifled a yawn. “I’m not interested in your personal accounts of Mr. Vander.”

Caressa frowned at him and then took a deep breath, turning to face the audience again. “Mr. Vander was not the only active ANC employee the night Quillan Beaurigard escaped. His partner that night was a Ms. Dulcie O’Neil.”

I felt my heart sink as I caught my breath when I heard my name. After I thought about it, though, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course the ANC knew that I was on duty that night. Not only that, but they would be remiss not to think that perhaps I had been involved in Quillan’s escape.

“Caressa, Dulcie had nothing to do with it,” Knight suddenly piped up and the tone of his voice warned her not to argue with him. At the same time, there was a twinge of desperation to it, as if he recognized that she was his only friend in the room.

Caressa cast him a look that discouraged him from any more outbursts. It was pretty obvious she was trying to save his ass but even more apparent that he wanted none of it. Guilt began to spiral through me as I realized how much Knight had put on the line to defend me—his reputation. And I had to wonder what that would mean for his position as the head of the ANC in Splendor? If Knight lost his job because of me … I couldn’t even finish the thought.

“Mr. Vander seems to debate the validity of your argument, Caressa,” the judge observed as he smiled at her with fangs.

Caressa had her hands on her hips and I could see the tension building in her shoulders. “Do we or don’t we want to seek the truth in each and every trial?” she demanded but the judge didn’t respond right away. He appeared to be trying to preserve his patience. “Judge Thorne?” she repeated in an annoyed tone.

The judge shrugged. “We have already found Mr. Vander guilty, Caressa.

“Already?” she repeated, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Yes,” Judge Thorne answered, hissing the syllables as he leaned forward. “The only reason we are sitting through this farce of a trial is as a personal favor to you.”

That silenced Caressa who immediately sat down. I could tell by the fact that her arms were crossed against her heaving chest that she was about to lambaste the lecherous judge but caught herself in time. She must have realized it wasn’t the best move to make. As soon as she sat down, Ms. Jenson tried to comfort her.

When I glanced up at the judge again, his lips were drawn in a tight line. He picked up his gavel and smacked it hard against the wooden dais. “In the case of the Association of Netherworld Creatures versus Knightley Vander, the High Court of the Netherworld finds Mr. Vander guilty of deliberately failing to apprehend Quillan Beaurigard.”

I felt my heart sink as a sigh lodged in my throat. Even though I expected this would be the verdict all along, somehow I wasn’t prepared to hear it in person. It sounded so final, so heavy and so wrong.

The judge took a deep breath and called the Chimera over to his side, whispering something in the ram’s ear before he descended from the stand and disappeared into the adjoining hallway. The Chimera faced the audience and the lion head announced: “The honorable Judge Thorne will now determine Mr. Vander’s sentence. This court will take a brief recess.”

The Chimera reached for Knight’s chains and yanked on them, forcing him upright. Knight narrowed his eyes and tugged the chains back, jerking the Chimera and causing it to stumble over its cloven hooves. Knight chuckled and the Chimera glared at him with all three heads before snatching up the chain and forcing him through the doorway and down the hall.

“Where is it taking him?” I asked, leaning over to whisper in Bram’s ear.

“To the holding cell while the judge deliberates his sentence,” Bram responded. His face was stoic, revealing no emotion, nothing at all.

“How long will that take?” I continued.

Bram shrugged but didn’t glance down at me. “I do not know.”

As it turned out, the judge didn’t deliberate long although it felt like an eternity to me. According to the wall clock above the judge’s box, a mere twenty minutes had passed; but for all I knew, maybe time existed in a different spectrum here in the Netherworld. Nothing would have surprised me.

When court resumed, I felt my heart rate quicken, realizing that the time of reckoning was now upon us. A grunting sound came from the hallway behind the judge as the Chimera pushed him aside and moved to the center of the courtroom, obviously tardy in announcing the judge’s return.

“The honorable Judge Thorne will now announce Mr. Vander’s sentence,” the ram head said in a voice that bleated between words. Because it said nothing, I wondered if the dragon head was mute.

The judge frowned at the Chimera as the creature disappeared into the hallway, only to return a few minutes later with Knight, who appeared exhausted.

The Chimera led Knight to the same table as before and yanked down hard on his chains. This time Knight didn’t throw the Chimera a curveball, instead he merely took his seat, his attention primed on the judge.

Judge Thorne cleared his throat and addressed the spectators and I swear my heart stopped beating as I awaited his sentence.

“This is quite an unusual case as I’ve received orders with regards to the sentence of the convicted,” the judge began as he glanced at Caressa, with a slightly apologetic expression. His body language seemed very unusual and it only served to heighten my concern.

“In accordance, Knightley Vander is hereby sentenced to …” the judge cleared his throat as his eyes belied the fact that the verdict surprised him—he was merely the messenger of bad news.

“Death.”

ELEVEN

It seemed like time stood still or I was watching a movie. Everything I witnessed appeared unreal; like it was staged. I glanced around myself, at the people in the courtroom and watched the surprise register in their cocked heads and bouncing shoulders. But even their surprise didn’t seem real—no, it was as if they were all just actors, performers all around me, pretending to be the judge, the prosecutor and the defendant, not to mention those observing the farce. It was all a sham, a ridiculous play or maybe it was just a dream. Either way, it remained non-threatening, just a little blip on the radar of my completely muddled and confused mind and soon I would wake up.

Soon I would wake up.

Soon I would have to wake up.

But I didn’t wake up. Pretty soon, the comprehension that I was in a real courtroom, amid otherworldly creatures who cared nothing for Knight or me dawned on me. And so did the sentence … That Knight had just been ordered to … die.

Death.

Death?

Had I really heard the judge correctly? I must not have because there was no way Knight could be put to death for failing to apprehend Quillan. It just didn’t make sense. I shook my head, trying to eradicate the ludicrous thoughts right out of my ears. But there wasn’t anything ludicrous that needed eradicating. The cold, hard reality was that everything around me was actual, true, and appalling.

“What?” Caressa yelled at the same time Knight stood up, his chains clanking against one another, making him sound like Marley’s ghost. I could barely bring myself to look at him because I was so afraid of seeing his face and his reaction to his own death sentence. But I had to look at him; there was no escaping it. When I did, I found him straight-faced, stoic, almost as if he was wearing a mask of indifference. But he was hiding behind that mask—there was no way he could’ve expected execution; no way he would’ve come here voluntarily, knowing his life was on the line. No, I anticipated some shock, anger or fear veiled behind that mask of indifference and yet, even I couldn’t see beyond it. There was nothing there, visibly—no surprise, dread or anxiety. Not until I forced myself to study his eyes did I realize the fury with which he struggled. His eyes were an incredibly bright, burning blue, like frantic sapphires in his face.

Still, he never said one word.

I was so stunned, I couldn’t even think. Every time my mind reached for a logical thought, anything to make sense of what had just happened, my brain couldn’t follow it long enough to solve the riddle.

“This whole fucking thing was set up!” Knight suddenly erupted, angst and vitriol dripping from his voice.

At Knight’s outburst, the Chimera yanked his chain, probably intending to silence him. Then, seemingly unbalanced on its hind goat legs, it aimed for the hallway, its dragon head still space-cadetting out, weaving this way and that. My attention gravitated back to Knight and I watched him as he narrowed his eyes at the Chimera. Then he tugged on the chain leading from his handcuffs. The Chimera lost its footing and tumbled over, heads, arms and legs all flailing about until you couldn’t tell if it was one creature or three.

I watched as Knight held the chain in his hands, focusing intently on it. His face turned bright red as he did the unthinkable and snapped the chain with his bare hands. I felt the air constrict in my lungs while I watched his pure, brute strength. As a creature created by Hades, in Hades’s own image, his strength was god-given and unsurpassable. That thought led to another one …

He’d been playing the court like a game all along; playing the part of the accused, at the mercy of the court of the Netherworld, when all along, his own immense strength could have set him free. He could have easily unleashed havoc on the courtroom; yet he restrained himself and played along simply to secure my safety. But even he had been surprised by this verdict, however, and its inappropriateness. And, really, the joke was on him in the end—and now it seemed the Netherworld would get the last laugh. That is, unless I intervened.

I swallowed hard as the imaginary flood gates burst open in my mind and thoughts of my next steps overwhelmed me. I knew what I had to do now; what I’d known all along. I was foolish to think it would ever have come to anything but this. At the moment, however, I remained wholly focused on Knight, waiting for my cue.

After freeing himself from the chains, he held his hands upright and pulled against the handcuffs. I watched as they strained under the intense pressure, eventually twisting with a snap and falling to the ground below, a pile of warped metal.

Knight took a deep breath and approached the judge who stared at him with a strange expression—not one of concern, but merely interest. He had the kind of curiosity of one detachedly watching an experiment.

“That fucking bastard has been looking for an excuse to polish me off all along,” Knight railed, his eyes spewing venom at the judge.

And then, as far as I was concerned, the halcyon before the storm had suddenly been given the boot. Something welled up inside me—something volatile and passionate that could no longer be denied. I couldn’t comprehend what Knight had just said; it was like I went into a purely emotional state and words and logic no longer held any relevance to me.

I was acting on pure instinct now.

“No!” I screamed out at the instant I stood up. I felt Bram’s hand on my T-shirt as he tried to tug me back down but I swatted him away. I was on autopilot now, almost a spectator to my inner Dulcie taking over—that primitive person inside every one of us who only comes out in times of panic.

I started to move past Bram but he stood up and grasped my arms, his eyes begging me not to do what I’d begun, step two in his plan. A step that he never expected to come to fruition. But, now that I was aware of what was happening, I wasn’t about to be silenced.

“Let go of me,” I said in a steely voice.

“Dulcie,” he started. “Please.”

I swallowed hard and tried to free myself from his hands but he wouldn’t release me. “Let go.”

“You will not sacrifice yourself on my watch.”

“That isn’t your decision to make,” I said, pulling my arms from his grasp. I didn’t wait for him to change his mind; I merely leapt past him and tripped over his leg when he attempted to circumvent me. For once, my idiotic wings actually proved their worth because they began to beat outrageously fast, probably spurred on by my “fight or flight” adrenaline rush against a vampire. I easily hovered just out of his range and felt like I might float all the way to the top of the ceiling which would prove to be a big problem, in and of itself. I grabbed the first anchor I could, which happened to be the arm of a creature I’d never seen before.

It faced me in surprise, its huge mouth frowning to reveal three rows of shark-like teeth that were, in a word, sharp. Its massive under bite as well as its wide, flared nostrils, and red, glowing eyes, were enough for me to shrink back but I didn’t release my hold on its leathery, upper arm.

“Sorry,” I offered with a sheepish smile while I gestured to my wings. “I’m not used to these things.”

It seemed to understand because it merely shrugged or maybe it was the fact that I was a fairy and, as such, a sexual delicacy because it allowed me to keep hold of its arm until my wings calmed down. Then I took a deep breath, thanked it with a heartfelt smile and faced the courtroom again.

“Knight didn’t do this!” I yelled out as I moved forward, making sure my wings weren’t going to start up again. I glanced back at them and found them sitting peacefully. From the looks of it, I was in the clear. Thank Hades.

The judge slammed his gavel down and scowled to let me know he wasn’t impressed. “Order!”

“He is innocent!” I insisted as I made my way down the aisle, pausing only at the partition which separated the audience from the participants in the court proceedings.

“Dulcie?” It was Knight’s voice. He sounded shocked and even betrayed. But I saw no betrayal in his eyes. No, the expression I found there was more like dread—probably at seeing me here.

One glance was all I could spare him. I wasn’t strong enough for anything more. Not when I could see that he was furious I’d come—that he’d just realized his sentence would now most likely be transferred to me. Or, maybe I was completely wrong. Maybe he was actually relieved.

Either way, tears threatened to fall from my eyes and if there was one thing these sons of bitches wouldn’t get from me, it was my tears. They could have my blood and sweat but tears were where I drew the line.

“Restrain that woman,” the judge ordered to someone behind me. I looked back and saw a guard at the entrance of the courtroom. He was a shape-shifter who could become a lion. He had the intimidating appearance of someone you didn’t want to mess with, very large and beefy. I wondered if he’d been standing there the whole time. I also happened to notice that Bram was nowhere to be seen. Great. So much for acting as my escort and guardian. He must’ve decided that I’d made my bed and now I had to sleep in it and probably saw no need to further ingratiate himself on my behalf.

The guard grabbed hold of both my arms but I had too many self-defense training sessions not to know how to get away from him. With a well-placed kick, I nailed him between the legs and watched him crumble to the ground, grabbing his crotch. With no time to waste, I catapulted myself over the barrier separating the court spectators from the rest of the courtroom.

“I’m Dulcie O’Neil, former ANC Regulator of Splendor, California,” I said in a loud, breathless voice as I faced the judge. “It was my responsibility to apprehend …”

“Don’t listen to her!” Knight interrupted loudly as he turned his panic-stricken eyes on me. “Don’t listen to a word she says. She’s … she’s not telling you the truth.”

When I looked at him, his eyes begged me not to continue, not to endanger myself but I was already involved, as in up to my thighs. I was also determined. And if there was one thing I knew about myself it was the fact that if Dulcie O’Neil decided to do something, there was nothing that would get in the way of her accomplishing her mission.

“It was my responsibility to take Quillan into custody and I allowed him to escape,” I finished, alternating my attention from Knight to the judge.

“I’m not interested in the testament of some,” the judge began, glancing at my wings with distaste, “fairy.” When I saw him sigh wearily, it was pretty obvious this guy simply wanted to get the case wrapped up so he could get back to doing whatever it was that vampire judges did in their leisure time.

I narrowed my eyes and fished inside my pocket for my ANC ID which, against Bram’s advice, I’d decided to bring with me anyway. Hey, you never knew when you might have to prove your identity to save your favorite Loki from an unjust sentence.

I held up my ID. “What about the testament of a former ANC Regulator, asshole?” I seethed.

I heard a slight laugh that sounded like approval from either Caressa or Ms. Jenson.

“Bring it here,” Judge Thorne said with little humor and even less patience.

“Dulcie, don’t do this,” Knight said but I refused to give him eye contact. I wasn’t going to let him pay for my mistake.

I strode up to the podium and handed my ID to the judge. He inspected it for a few seconds, frowning all the while, and then faced Caressa. “It appears to be genuine.”

“Take her into custody,” Caressa said with tight lips. I turned to face her and nodded, holding my arms out for her to cuff me, letting her know I was ready and willing to go.

“Please, Caressa,” Knight said with a rough voice, his eyes pleading. “Please leave her out of this.”

Caressa swallowed hard and when she faced Knight, I saw compassion in her eyes. “I can’t let you pay the ultimate price for something you didn’t do, Knight.”

“Caressa, damn it …” he started but I interrupted him.

“Knight, this is how it has to be,” I said as I forced my eyes up to his at the same time that Caressa snapped one handcuff onto my wrist.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, Dulcie,” he said, shaking his head and clenching his hands into fists at his side. Then he faced Caressa again. “They want me, Caressa. You know that as well as I do. There’s no reason to sacrifice Dulcie.”

Caressa inhaled deeply and paused in her task of cuffing me. She swallowed and then brought the second handcuff to my un-cuffed wrist and secured it. She avoided even looking at Knight. “I’m sorry,” she muttered but I wasn’t sure who she said it to, Knight or me.

“Who are they?” I demanded but neither of them would so much as even acknowledge me.

Instead, Caressa pushed me forward, toward the hallway of the holding cells.

“Caressa, please,” Knight repeated.

“It’s too late, Mr. Vander,” the judge spewed back at him as he approached Knight, grabbing his arm. “It’s too late for her and it’s also too late for you.”

I had no time to consider the judge’s words because before I knew it, Caressa was leading me down the hallway and into my holding cell. She unlocked the cell, which was empty, and escorted me into it.

“If you need anything,” she started, facing me with kind eyes, “please don’t hesitate to let April know.” Then she turned to Ms. Jenson who was just behind her. “I’m leaving April here to ensure you and Knight are treated well.”

I nodded and offered her a small smile. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what your relationship is with Knight,” Caressa started but was interrupted when we both turned around to see the judge push Knight, none-too-gently, into the only other cell, which happened to be right across from mine. “But he must really care about you,” she finished.

I nodded but said nothing, as I watched her step outside my cell and lock it. Then she walked over to Knight and stood with her back to me. “You will both be transported to High Prison within the hour, I imagine.”

He nodded as he sat on the cot, sighing. “Don’t let the same thing that happened to me happen to her.”

“I will push for a quick hearing for her,” she started and then added. “And I’m going to do my best to ensure your release.”

Knight chuckled but it was a sound drenched in acid and sarcasm. “Caressa, you know I’m not getting out of this. He has me right where he wants me.”

“Knight …”

“I just don’t want her to suffer for … her connection to me.”

Caressa’s shoulders sagged. “I will do my best.”

Then she turned around, offering me an apologetic and hurried smile and motioned to April, before they both stepped outside. That was when I understood she’d done so on purpose—to allow Knight and me a cherished moment of privacy, perhaps the last one we would ever get.

“Knight, what were you talking about earlier? Who has you right where he wants you and why do you think this was planned all along? Who are they?” I demanded, my voice rising with alarm.

Knight shook his head. “It’s too long and complicated to explain and I don’t know how much time we have before they cart us back.” He stood up and took the few steps separating him from the cell bars. Grabbing them, he wrapped his hands around the bars and sighed. “Why did you do this? Why couldn’t you have left damn well alone?”

I shook my head. “I could never let you die for me, Knight.”

He smiled and I felt something break inside me as the tears that threatened to fall for the last hour suddenly filled up my eyes and began pouring down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Dulce, please. I … I’ll get you out of this somehow.”

I shook my head. “I’m not crying for myself,” I muttered, wiping my eyes on the cuff of my shirt. “I’m just so sorry I involved you in this mess.”

“Dulcie, it was my decision and I don’t regret it for a minute. I only wish you could’ve left things alone. But, shit, that’s who you are, isn’t it?” He chuckled and I felt a smile bursting through the cloud of my tears.

“They aren’t going to release you, are they?” I asked, the small smile fading right off my mouth again.

He shook his head. “No. They’ll find something to find me guilty of and that will be that.”

“I’m so sorry, Knight.”

“None of that matters at the moment, Dulce. What does matter is that you stay alert at all times while you’re in High Prison. I hope to Hades they put us in the same cell but if not, remember that you are a fairy and, in this world, you’re in high demand.”

“I know,” I grumbled. “Bram warned me as much.”

“Bram?” Knight repeated, shocked. “Is he here?”

“He came with me but who knows where he is now? If he’s smart, he’s on his way back home.”

He nodded and then took a deep breath. “Then you know what to expect?”

“Yeah, I’ve been schooled in that lesson.”

“And you know your magic won’t work here?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You have to rely on your ANC training, Dulce, purely self-defense.” He glanced away for a second or two and then brought his gaze back to mine. “And whatever happens, I want you to know that I …”

But he never had the chance to finish his sentence because April appeared in the hallway with Caressa just behind her. “We are moving you now,” April said in a small voice as she offered Knight an apologetic frown.

***

The High Prison was nothing like what I’d imagined, given my experience with prisons in Splendor. This was more along the lines of something from a horror movie.

As Caressa led me through the double-bolted high security door, a prison guard who happened to be a goblin, the genus of which I wasn’t certain, met us on the other side. He nodded to Caressa and then eyed me, his gaze raking me from head to toe before he smiled, revealing discolored, broken teeth. I swallowed hard and, assuming this bastard was going to give me trouble, narrowed my eyes and shot him the look of death. He averted his eyes and set to securing the door behind us. The sounds of the bolts locking reverberated through my head and I don’t imagine I will ever forget it. Then the goblin turned his warthog-like face in my direction, where he sniffed around me a few times and grinned broadly.

“She is off limits,” Caressa said sternly. Her distaste was evident as she glared at the hideous creature that towered over us both. Even though it was well over six feet, it was hunched over and bore a huge growth on its back. It narrowed its eyes at the reprimand but remained quiet. “Did you hear what I said?” she demanded.

The guard nodded dumbly but still said nothing.

“She is to be in a cell with no other creatures. Do you understand?”

“Aye,” the creature said finally with a strange sort of accent. Its breath filled my nostrils with the putrid odor of rotting flesh and I thought I might lose the contents of my stomach right there.

Caressa faced me and smiled awkwardly. “I will try to rush your hearing,” she said, as if preparing me for a very unpleasant stay.

“Thanks,” I answered, although I wasn’t really sure why I was thanking her. The guard grabbed my arm none-too-gently and jostled me forward, toward the dark hallway. I took one last glance at Caressa, who was just watching us, the worry visible in her pretty features. “Please do what you can for Knight,” I called out.

“I will,” she replied.

I took a deep breath and pulled my arm from the guard’s vice-like grip. “You don’t need to drag me,” I muttered.

The goblin remained silent as he continued limping beside me. We walked down a long, dank hallway that smelled of urine. There were a few uncovered lightbulbs that buzzed and flashed as he escorted me through what felt like a maze of winding hallways. On either side of us were walls that appeared to be made of plywood, painted grey. There were splotches of mildew and what looked like dried blood all over the cement floor.

We hit another door and the guard pulled out an O-ring, containing about four skeleton keys. He selected the third from the right and unlocked the door before giving me a healthy shove through it.

“Where is Knightley Vander?” I demanded as soon as I stepped across the threshold and saw the cells on either side of me packed with creatures. Some were crying, others were laughing maniacally, while some screamed out in anger, and others begged for food. I refused to look at any of them, keeping my gaze fixed directly in front me, on the wall at the far end of the room.

“Don’t know ’em,” the goblin responded, giving me a push, the cue to start walking. I did.

So that meant that Knight either wasn’t here yet or else this wasn’t the only High Prison? I was somewhat surprised to find the male inmates hadn’t been separated from females. Instead, all the inmates were lumped together in this hell-hole.

“Is this the only prison here?” I demanded, turning to face the goblin who lurked behind me as he grinned at my ass.

“Aye,” he answered and I felt relief. Knight probably just hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe it was only a matter of minutes before I’d join my Loki again. The one thing I hoped for was that he and I would share a cell. I never felt as if I needed Knight’s company more than I needed it now. Badly.

“A fairy!” someone shouted.

All the creatures suddenly piled against the prison bars and began screaming profanities at me. I felt my skin crawl.

Just focus on that wall in front of you, Dulcie, I coached myself.

“This is you,” the goblin said as he paused in front of a cell that was next to last, on the right. He pulled out his key ring and fumbled for the correct key. I peered at the cell and noticed the toilet came complete with a yellowish looking ring inside the basin and a small, mildewy sink. The cot appeared to have once been white, but now was a cross between dingy grey and crap brown. Either way, it might as well have been broadcasting: “Lie here and you’ll die here.”

The goblin opened the cell door and gave me another hearty shove. “Make yerself comfy,” he said with a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Yer gonna be here a while so ya might wanna werk the kinks outta dat bed, if ya know what I mean. I can help ya wif it.” Then he laughed like he considered himself a regular comedian.

I shook my head and frowned but said nothing. Then I appraised my new digs, trying to figure out where to sit. The cot was out of the question but the floor looked equally disgusting. After observing a cockroach scuttling across the ground just in front of my shoes, I decided to remain standing.

TWELVE

“Don’t touch me, you son of a bitch.”

It was Knight’s voice.

I looked up from my huddled position in the corner of my cell where I’d finally collapsed in exhaustion after standing for hours on end. My knees were drawn into my chest and my head was resting on my knees while I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to do. It had been three hours since I was first introduced to my Spartan accommodations, three hours of not knowing where the hell Knight was and three hours during which I could only imagine the worst. My ultimate nightmare had been that his punishment had already been carried out; that he was … dead.

“Knight!” I called out and gazed up at him, feeling pins and needles in my wobbly legs as I willed myself upright. My wings came to my aid again by letting me hover until the circulation returned. I rushed to the bars of my cell as I watched another guard, different from the goblin, thrust Knight into the cage opposite mine.

The creature who had occupied the cell prior to Knight’s entry melted back into the wall and huddled there, as if trying to hide in the shadows. Seeing it skulk away as soon as it saw the second guard alerted me that this guard probably wasn’t going to be the most merciful or lenient. The goblin guard didn’t worry me. As I did a double-take on the creature again, I couldn’t decide what it was. It was smallish—maybe my size, bald as a billiard and albino white. It sort of reminded me of a hairless cat. At any rate, owing to the fact that the guard obviously intimidated it, I figured it posed no threat to Knight. I hoped so anyway.

As soon as the guard released him, Knight immediately rushed the cell door but the guard, who I realized was a Cyclops as soon as I got a view of the eye in the center of his head, slammed it shut and locked it before Knight could overpower him. His snide smile oozed of pride and self-importance at the fact that he’d overpowered a Loki.

When I looked at Knight, I felt my heart swell just to know he was still alive. Sadly, it appeared that he’d been roughed up again. His inmate uniform was ripped and stained with drops of blood, his hair tousled and another shiner darkened his right eye. But he was alive and, at that moment, that was all that mattered.

“Knight,” I said again, my voice softer.

He glanced over at me and smiled, his lower lip split and swollen. Those assholes …

I watched the Cyclops take out his baton and shove it through the cell bars just to get a rise out of the occupants in the chamber adjacent to Knight’s. For one moment, I wanted nothing more than to wrest the baton from him and crack him over the head with it … hard … and repeatedly.

“You’re here,” Knight said, drawing my attention back to him. I could see relief in his face—but it only lasted a few seconds before it was replaced with angst, probably at the reality of my being here. Since “here” wasn’t exactly the ideal place to be.

The Cyclops, suspiciously concerned as to whom Knight was talking to, turned his massive, hulking body around and faced me with his one eye. He scowled at me before he recognized exactly what I was. Then the scowl ran away and a filthy smile, complete with missing teeth, replaced it. It was a smile that said exactly what he wanted to do to me ... Yep, this one might cause me problems.

“Ah, we gotta fairy, ’ave we?”

Before I could say “F yourself,” the goblin guard blocked him and shook his head in a mock apology. “Can’t tetch ’er,” it said as it sneered in my direction. “Orders from above.”

The Cyclops stepped closer to my cell and I backed away, feeling suddenly nervous under his intense stare. It’s funny how a monster with one eye is so much more disarming than one with two. And as much as I hated the goblin, I secretly wished he was the only guard on duty—at least he knew his place. This Cyclops was a lawless wild card. But then, most Cyclops usually are …

I’d only ever seen a Cyclops once before and this one was nothing like it—aside from the one eye bit. This guy was huge, probably over seven foot five and was incredibly fat. But it wasn’t a pudgy, weak sort of fatness. You could see the muscle beneath his rolls—he was fat, yes, but he was built like a tank—like a Sumo wrestler. He appeared to be relatively young—maybe in his early twenties but he had already lost most of the hair on his head. Only a few strands delineated where his hairline once existed. His face was broad and ugly with a pointy nose, thin lips and missing teeth, as mentioned earlier. But, without doubt, his deeply sunken, round eye that occupied the center of his forehead seemed to demand all my attention. It was just so … weird.

“I ain’t never seen a fairy befer,” the Cyclops said as he licked his chops like he was about to sit down to Thanksgiving dinner.

“You stay the hell away from her,” Knight said in a cold, calculating voice.

The Cyclops glanced at him sideways and laughed. “What’re ya gonna do ’bout it, pretty boy?”

“Yer gonna git in serious trouble, Clyde, if ya tetch her,” the goblin said. He shook his head to emphasize how steadfast he was in his decision to avoid the wrath from his higher-ups. I was beginning to like him even more. Well, I was beginning to tolerate him even more, I should say.

Clyde, the Cyclops, nodded but made no motion to retreat from my cell. Instead, he continued staring at me with that round, unblinking eye. Then he finally closed it and inhaled deedetainedply. “She smells so good.”

“Dulcie, back away from the bars,” Knight said in an angry voice. “Get as far away as you can.”

I didn’t argue and did as he instructed, retiring to the far corner of my cell. The Cyclops, now no longer enchanted with the intoxication of my smell, I suppose, opened his eye and seemed back in control of his faculties … whatever faculties he possessed, anyway. What was boldly apparent to me was this guy didn’t have a whole lot going on upstairs. He was primitive and impulsive and those two adjectives were going to make my stay here a very difficult one. I felt sure this monster had no moral compass to discourage him from whatever he had in store for me.

“We should git outta here,” the goblin said as he reached for his friend. The Cyclops said nothing but backed away, still gawking at me with absolute lust pasted on his face. I was preparing for him to attack me, feeling sure it was going to happen all along. When he suddenly turned tail and followed the goblin back up the hallway, I was not only surprised, but more like shocked. They disappeared from view and I heard the sound of the heavy door opening, followed by the sound of deadbolts. I sighed in relief, grateful I was finally alone with Knight, well, as alone as we could be, considering we were surrounded by inmates.

“Where have you been?” I asked, grimacing again at his fat lip and the new shiner to match the one on the other eye.

“Detained for questioning, you could say,” Knight grumbled as he shook his head. Then he looked directly at me. “Are you okay, Dulce? Did those bastards hurt you?”

I swallowed hard, still reeling from the fact that these assholes were treating him with such disrespect. I could feel my hands fisting around the prison bars of my cell as anger roiled within me.

“Dulcie?” Knight repeated, snapping me out of my own thoughts since I hadn’t responded to his question.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, my voice belying my anger.

“Good,” Knight said, heaving a sigh of relief before looking back at me and frowning. “I hate seeing you in here.”

“Ditto.” I took a deep breath and tried to organize my thoughts because I had so many questions for him, I didn’t know where to start. “Knight, I need you to tell me what’s going on,” I managed. “You told Caressa and the judge that there are people above that have it out for you or was it just one person above you? What did you mean?”

Knight nodded, as if he, too, realized the need to get me up to speed and hopefully, now would be the best opportunity. I mean, it seemed like we had nothing but time. ’Course, how much time was anyone’s guess. Somewhere in the back of my head, the thought that Knight was living on borrowed time suddenly emerged. His sentence had been ordered and I could only imagine it could be carried out any moment. That thought absolutely terrified me.

“I can’t tell you too much, Dulcie, or I’d be putting you in danger.”

“So tell me what you can,” I prodded, wondering how deeply involved he was.

“Remember how I told you Lokis have always been stuck in the Netherworld?”

I nodded, remembering the conversation well. “Yeah.”

“Well, there’s a reason I wasn’t. I was basically transferred to Splendor because I caused trouble for the Head of the Netherworld.”

“The Head of the Netherworld?” I repeated, sounding completely lost. “I didn’t even know there was a Head of the Netherworld.”

Knight glanced around himself, as if to find a place to sit but apparently noticing the stained cot, he just shrugged and remained standing. As he returned his attention back to me, he seemed to finally notice the creature cowering in the corner of the cell. There was a look of surprise on his face. “I didn’t realize I was sharing a cell.”

The creature nodded a greeting and then swallowed hard, not appearing to have grown any sense of confidence over the last ten minutes or so. Knight smiled warmly and then faced me again. “The organization here is set up like a hierarchy and the government is more along the lines of a dictatorship. The Head of the Netherworld is at the top of the hierarchy and what he says goes.”

I nodded, allowing this information to sink in. “So you upset the supreme chief then?”

Knight nodded. “Yes, so I was banished to Earth … the first Loki ever to make the trip. It suited me fine because I wanted out of here and the Netherworld gained what it wanted; to get rid of me.”

“But why did the Netherworld, or more specifically, the Head of the Netherworld, want to get rid of you in the first place?”

He shook his head and sighed like it was too long and complicated to explain. “I can’t get into the specifics, Dulce. Let’s just say I upset the apple cart and rather than turning it into a big legal situation, they found it easier to relocate me. They laid me off here and got me a position in Splendor. And, of course, I complied with no questions asked.”

“But now that you’re back here?”

He swallowed and looked away, shaking his head. “I swore I’d never return—it was one of their stipulations for my transference.”

I felt my heart sink. It was my fault that he’d come back here and broken his promise to never return. Now, because he’d breached the contract, the Head of the Netherworld had ordered his death. It was just so unfair. Then something occurred to me—Knight hadn’t willingly returned here at all. “But I don’t understand … Didn’t the ANC come for you?” I started, remembering Trey’s vision of the two ANC-uniformed employees who took Knight away. “It’s not like you returned voluntarily!”

Knight nodded and then sighed. “Yes, they did. I’m convinced that this whole subject of calling me to the High Court for questioning regarding Quillan’s escape was just a cover. The big man upstairs knew he could get rid of me forever without having to do it under the table so he jumped at the opportunity.”

“And you played right into their hands by saying it was you who released Quillan instead of me …”

“Yep, I guess I did.” He was quiet for a second or two and focused his attention on his hands which were wrapped around the cell bars. Then he glanced up at me again. “Don’t think I regret it, Dulcie. I have no remorse for my decision, none.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand you.” Then I felt the sting of tears in my eyes again. “You risked your life for me.”

He nodded. “I know,” he smiled. “And you did exactly the same for me.”

I smiled as I thought about it. “Guess we’re just two love-sick idiots.” I felt my eyes widen as I heard the words leave my lips. I hadn’t even considered the fact that maybe I was in love with Knight. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, though, it became pretty perfectly clear. I mean, I wouldn’t just risk my life for anyone.

“It’s okay, Dulce,” Knight said with a laugh but he still sounded depressed, probably due to the situation.

“Why … why does the Head of the Netherworld want you … out of the way?” I asked quickly, suddenly aware that I had basically just admitted my love for Knight in a prison cell complete with goblins, shape-shifters, Cyclops and cockroaches to share my joyful moment.

Knight nodded as if he understood and agreed with me—now was not the time to discuss our feelings. “I knew too much.”

“And you can’t tell me what that ‘too much’ was, can you?”

“Nope,” he finished, sighing deeply. “It amounts to the fact that someone up there is threatened by my being alive.” He glanced at his shoes and shook his head. “So now they’ve trumped up some ridiculous case and they’re having the last laugh.”

“Regardless of what happens to me? Regardless if I prove it was my fault all along?” I couldn’t finish my statement because it did nothing but depress me. My self-sacrifice couldn’t save Knight. I’d simply managed to damn us both.

He shook his head. “It makes no difference, Dulcie. They aren’t going to let me go.” He paused for a few seconds. “Now I’m worried about what that means for you.”

I slammed my fist into the bars of my prison cell and stifled the mute frustration pounding through me. “There has to be someone who will understand, someone who will hear us out?”

Knight shook his head again, this time sighing. “Caressa is the only honest person in this whole system; but her hands are tied. She has to take orders from the Head of the Netherworld and he’s as crooked as they come. He’s also at the top of the so-called ladder. There’s nothing she can do.”

“Knight, please tell me …” I started, wanting, no, needing to know what this was all about. What was going on that was so bad that the Head of the Netherworld wanted Knight to pay the ultimate price?

Knight’s eyes were hard and his lips were tight. “That’s all I can say, Dulcie. My only hope now is to make sure you leave here safely and the less you know, the better off you are.”

“But you,” I interjected.

“I’m a walking dead man.”

“Don’t say that,” I said in a hysterical voice, feeling a lump form in my throat. I shook my head, trying to force the tears to subside. “Don’t ever say that again.” But I knew the truth just as well as he did.

He smiled down at me. “Have I ever told you how much I admire you, Dulce? How I’ve never met another woman like you?”

I returned the smile and felt tears starting in my eyes again but I didn’t say anything, afraid my voice would crack. I was spared the need to respond though, when the goblin guard suddenly appeared carrying a tray with a few pieces of bread, some slices of cheese and a cup of water. The Cyclops came up behind him and stepped out to unlock my cell. Before doing so, he glanced at me with the same expression of hunger I’d witnessed before.

“No funny stuff when I unlock the cell,” he said in a deep and dumb-sounding voice. “I ain’t in a mood ta deal wif it.”

“Bread and water, seriously?” I asked, shaking my head and crossing my arms against my chest. I was suddenly incredibly angry—as if the bread and water on the tray was the last straw in this horrible mess. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.”

The Cyclops faced the goblin and frowned. “Bitchy, ain’t she?”

The goblin frowned. “Yeah, she got attitude.”

The Cyclops faced me again and smiled a gap-toothed, ugly grin as he opened my cell door. Before the goblin could step in, the Cyclops circumvented him. “I think she needs ta be shown ah lesson.”

“You keep the hell away from me,” I said, my voice harsh as acid. I started to back up, toward the rear of my cell.

“Don’t touch her,” Knight yelled from across the way.

“You shut up,” the Cyclops said, turning to face him. “Unless ya want me ta cum in there an’ rough ya up again.”

“Come in here anytime, asshole,” Knight seethed. “But touch her and I will kill you.”

The Cyclops laughed an ugly sound and glanced back at Knight again. “How ya gonna kill me when yer in there, stupid?”

“It ain’t ah good idea, Clyde,” the goblin said and, realizing his friend wasn’t convinced, bent down to put the tray of food on the ground. Once he stood up again, he acted like he was going to come into my cell with the Cyclops but hesitated, revealing his fear of the other guard.

“Who’s gonna find out?” the Cyclops asked, turning to face the goblin. “Yer so afraid o’ that idiot woman Brandenburg an’ she ain’t gonna do shit.”

“Don’t do it, Clyde,” the goblin warned again. “I need this job an’ you do too.”

Clyde waved him away like a fly and faced me again, his ugly smile back, wide and appalling. “When do we ever git a fairy in here ta play wif? Huh?”

“Never,” the goblin answered as he held onto my cell bars and watched me, sniffing the air like he was trying to catch my smell.

“Stay the hell away from me,” I warned again, aware of exactly how weighty my warning was, considering I had no magic to back me up. Clyde was so big, he could basically break me in half.

“C’mere little fairy; big daddy gonna teach ya how ta play,” he said. He kept approaching as I continued to retreat. Pretty soon I felt the rough texture of the wall against my back. I was pinned. Great.

“I ain’t gonna be rough unless ya fight me, girly,” he said as he reached for my face. He ran a dirty index finger across my cheek, trailing it down my neck and ending at my breast. He paused and then palmed my breast and squeezed.

I could feel my heartbeat pounding through my body as I tried to calm myself, in order to figure out the best way out of this. “It’s not worth it.”

“You are going against orders from Headquarters,” Knight yelled, his tone frenzied.

The Cyclops turned to Knight and that’s when I pushed myself forward, easily squeezing past him and running hell-bent for the cell door, where the goblin faced Knight. All I had to do was push the goblin off balance and make my escape. ’Course, how far I could get was a good question, considering both guards still held the keys to the main door.

It turned out that I never even needed to plan that far ahead because I forgot about the little things on my back called wings. That is, until the Cyclops grabbed hold of one and yanked. I’m sure the feeling of intense agony was due to the fact that he’d just ripped my wing either right off me or in half. I shrieked as the pain hit me and then, before I could comprehend it, I felt myself being thrown against the cell wall, where the cold, lead bars met me straight in the forehead.

“Dulcie!” I heard Knight scream but everything went black for a second or two as I felt myself falling. Something cold smacked my cheek but I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. It was like they were glued shut.

“Bitch!” When I opened my eyes, the Cyclops was on top of me, his fist right in my face. I closed my eyes, savoring the darkness as I felt my lip split and the warmth of my blood dripping down my cheek and pooling in my ear. I couldn’t say I felt pain, though. Instead it was like I was in a dream state, seeing the black of night, complete with stars and then opening my eyes again to find the prison cell around me.

“You like it rough, huh?” I glanced up at the ugly face above me and felt like I wanted to cry or throw up as cold, hard reality began to set in. The stars of delirium started to fade away, and I with them. Then it dawned on me that I had to have hit my head hard against the prison bars.

I pushed against the Cyclops, deciding right then and there that I was going to defend myself. I wasn’t going to make this easy for him. But it felt like trying to push a wall. He laughed in my face, the sour smell of his breath lodging in my nostrils until I thought I’d be sick for sure.

“Get the fuck off her!” Knight screamed. The Cyclops glanced up at him and with a dirty smile, grabbed hold of my T-shirt and pulled, ripping it in half. He tore it off me, until I was clad in only my bra and jeans.

I pulled my arm back and landed a good punch right across his cheek, momentarily stunning him. I flipped myself to my hands and knees and started to get up when I felt his immense weight throwing me to the ground again. I hit the cement hard and felt the air forcibly expelled from my lungs.

As I was trying to catch my breath, the bastard was on me again, this time tearing at my jeans, trying to pull them off and down my hips. I attempted to pull myself out of his grasp but since I couldn’t breathe, the situation was basically hopeless.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed again, ready to claw my way from him when the vision of black dress shoes before me suddenly took me by surprise. Before I knew what to think, I felt the Cyclops’s body torn from me and the sound of crashing—of something big hitting the wall.

“You do not force yourself on a lady!”

I would have known that upper class English accent anywhere.

Bram.

“Bram?” I repeated in shock, wondering if I was dreaming all this or if Bram really had pulled a total Spiderman move. I took a deep breath and crawled to the far side of my cell, forcing my head up so I could watch Bram pin the Cyclops against the wall, his hand wrapped around the much beefier man’s neck. What looked like glitter covered the floor but it wasn’t glitter. I knew better—it was fairy dust. I glanced over my shoulder to see my wing lying limply against my shoulder, torn and ragged.

“Where is that bastard goblin?” Bram asked, turning to face me with fangs.

I figured he meant the goblin guard and I looked around, finding him slouched in the corner of my cell, as if trying to remain unnoticed.

“Assist her, you fool,” Bram seethed to the guard. The guard immediately stood up and approached me, pulling me into his arms as I fought to keep myself from throwing up. I had to have a concussion from the lead bars to the head injury.

Bram stepped away from the Cyclops, allowing the bigger man to fall against the floor with a thud. Then he smoothed his shirt, brushed off his pants and turned to me with a big grin.

“Dulcie, sweet, I would say I was just … in the nick of time?”

THIRTEEN

“I’d say you came in the nick of time,” I repeated to Bram, suddenly feeling light-headed again as I tried to break away from the goblin. I couldn’t wait to get away from him; he smelled like BO and Swiss cheese. Bram immediately appeared beside me and I collapsed into his outstretched arms, wanting nothing more than to inhale his clean, spicy scent, hoping to banish the memory of the goblin’s odor.

“What did that bastard do to her?” I heard Knight’s voice, which was still frantic. “Dulcie, are you okay? Talk to me.”

“I think so,” I said in a small voice, just as a headache started behind my eyes and I momentarily saw stars again.

Bram held me close to his chest but I could tell his attention wasn’t on me. I opened one eye and saw him staring at the Cyclops with stiff composure.

“You will never touch her again,” Bram said in a tone that promised retribution just by its iciness. “I will conduct a strict surveillance over her and if I learn that you so much as touched a strand of her hair, you will suffer the consequences.”

I wasn’t sure how Bram intended to “conduct a strict surveillance” over me but my head hurt too much to think about it any further. The Cyclops said nothing but gritted his teeth and grunted, heaving himself up from the floor before fleeing my cell and elbowing past the goblin guard. I had to admit I was impressed with Bram. Even though he was a vampire and thus, one of the highest orders of creatures, and among the strongest, the way the Cyclops and the goblin responded to him … it was as if they thought he was some high-ranking official. And, for all I knew, maybe he was (I mean, he did have a private portal from Splendor to the Netherworld … Now, more than ever before, I was wondering why.)

“You,” Bram said to the goblin. “Wait just one moment.”

The goblin stopped walking and slowly turned around, his eyes filled with dread, as if he were wondering why he had to be detained when he hadn’t even attacked me. I was wondering the same thing.

“Yes … sir?” he asked, wincing.

I glanced up at Bram in surprise. “Sir?” Why did Bram always seem to have a wild card up his sleeve?

Bram ignored me and focused instead on the goblin. “I want you to be my eyes where Dulcie is concerned, do you understand?” Bram asked, his pupils narrowed, warning the stupid idiot not to even think of arguing with him. “You will report back to me by phone every hour.”

The goblin took a deep breath as he apparently weighed the subject in his pea-sized brain. It took him a few seconds before he reached the conclusion that it wasn’t a good idea to irritate an already aggravated vampire. “Yessir, Mr. …”

“My name is unimportant,” Bram interjected. It seemed he’d interrupted the goblin on purpose, as if he hadn’t wanted the goblin to utter his last name … It was strange, to say the least.

“Yessir, I’ll be yer eyes.” It was at that moment that I realized the goblin knew Bram. He’d known Bram as soon as he’d walked into the prison. I wasn’t sure if the Cyclops also recognized him but I was sure the goblin definitely had. And now, I found myself wondering, why? How would the goblin know him? And, for that matter, did Bram know the goblin? What was Bram holding back from me? What wasn’t he telling me?

“I want her in my cell,” Knight piped up from behind us, apparently close enough that he could hear our conversation. “She won’t be safe unless she’s with me.”

“Yes,” I said immediately, thinking that was the best idea I’d heard all day. Not to mention the fact that I wanted to lose myself in Knight’s arms, to try and ignore the horrible reality around us. I just wanted to touch him, be close to him, tell him how sorry I was for causing him to be in this mess to begin with. I glanced up at Bram and noticed he was scrutinizing Knight and it was pretty obvious he didn’t like the idea one bit.

“We ain’t supposed ta house her with any other creatures,” the goblin said, now playing stickler for the rules.

“Knight isn’t going to attack me, you idiot,” I said gruffly, the pain inside my head throbbing. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, wondering if I was going to pass out again.

“Yeah, but he ain’t got much more time here,” the goblin pointed out in a heated tone.

I felt my stomach drop as my eyes flashed open. “What did you say?” I demanded, feeling the pounding of my headache increasing with the news.

“His execution is set fer two days from now,” the goblin answered like he was talking about the weather, not Knight’s life. “So what ya gonna do once he’s gone, huh?”

I felt bile rising up into my throat and thought I was going to vomit right there. I held my face up to the ceiling, hoping gravity might keep the contents of my stomach in my stomach.

Two days from now?! Two days …

“I am very sorry to hear this news,” Bram said and the tone of his voice also sounded dejected. I glanced up at him to ascertain if he really was sorry and, amazingly enough, he appeared sincere.

“Not as sorry as I am,” Knight said with an attempt at levity but resulting as exhaustion.

“We’re going to find a way out of this, Knight,” I said as I looked up at him, hating the expression of futility in his eyes. “We will find a way.” I choked on the words, feeling tears beginning to flood my eyes.

Calm down, Dulcie, and just think. I told myself. There has got to be a way to delay Knight’s sentence, a way to get him out of this.

“When is my hearing scheduled?” I demanded, thinking I needed to get the facts of my involvement out in the open immediately. That way, maybe I could at least stave off Knight’s execution. I just needed time!

“I ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout no hearing fer you,” the goblin said with indifference.

“I will inquire with the powers that be,” Bram said and smiled down at me kindly as I wondered what role he played in the Netherworld. There was no use in asking that he admit it now, though, not with the goblin and Knight in attendance. I mean, it was unlikely that he’d confess anything to me.

“Either way, I want her with me for the time being,” Knight interrupted, facing the goblin again, his hands wrapped around the cell bars.

“You ain’t the only one in yer cell,” the goblin said as he shrugged. “Ms. Brandenburg gave me directions ta not put the fairy wif any other creatures an’ I sho as hell ain’t gonna git that woman on ma case.”

“Move him to her cell,” Bram said, in an exasperated tone. He had apparently come to terms with the fact that Knight was right—I would be safest with him. Especially since Bram couldn’t guard me here twenty-four/seven, or could he?

The goblin nodded and pulled at the O-ring on his belt, finding the key to Knight’s cell before opening the door. He grabbed Knight’s hand and threatened him with an expression that said: no funny stuff. Knight frowned and shook off the goblin’s hold, leading himself into my cell. The goblin came up behind him and locked the cell door behind all three of us.

He glanced at Bram and cleared his throat. “Just lemme know when ya want out.”

Bram nodded and faced me again while Knight motioned for Bram to release me. “I can take her from here,” he said.

But Bram didn’t release me. Instead, he glanced down and seemed to study me. “She is injured.”

“Dulcie?” Knight asked softly, looking at me with worried concern in his beautiful blue eyes. “Your forehead …”

Yep, I must have had a pretty bad bruise or maybe the skin was broken where the Cyclops had forced me to get up close and personal with the prison bars. “I think it’s a concussion,” I said, seeing the stars start to spin around me again.

“That fucking bastard,” Knight spat out but before he could complete his sentence, Bram interrupted.

“She must drink from me.”

“What?” I demanded, the idea of drinking Bram’s blood right up there with cutting off my own leg.

I didn’t hear anything from Knight and looked up at him with inquiring eyes. He merely nodded at the idea, studying me in a detached sort of way, as if analyzing how badly I was hurt.

“You need your strength, Dulce,” he said finally. “He’s right.”

“Can’t you heal me?” I asked him, remembering the time when I’d nearly died after fighting the Kragengen shifter and Knight healed me. And the best part about Knight healing me was it didn’t involve swallowing any blood.

“Not here,” he said resolutely. And by “here,” I had to imagine he meant in the Netherworld. So, in the same way that my magic wouldn’t work in this godforsaken place, apparently neither did his Loki abilities, or, at least, that particular one.

“Trust me, Dulcie,” Bram whispered. “You will not need to swallow much.”

Before I could respond, he simply bent down, opened his mouth to reveal his now extended fangs, pushed his wrist into his mouth and bit. When he pulled away, there was blood trailing down his wrist and mouth, the color and consistency of Welch’s grape juice.

For the second or third time this evening, I felt like I wanted to be sick. I chanced a quick glance at Knight and noticed his jaw was tight and his eyes were piercing. He didn’t like this one bit.

Bram forced his wrist into my face and I closed my eyes, realizing I’d have to do this quickly because his wound was going to heal within a matter of seconds. I opened my mouth and felt Bram lift his wrist and push it to my lips. I started to suck, feeling the warm, metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. My throat seemed to clench tightly shut and before I knew it, I was gagging.

“Swallow,” Bram commanded in a voice that warned me not to disappoint him. I’m sure he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be sharing his blood and even less thrilled by the fact that I was so grossed out by it. My body was basically staging a mutiny.

But I finally managed to go to my happy place and forced my throat to relax. I swallowed a good two mouthfuls of Bram’s blood. He pulled his wrist away and I opened my eyes, watching the redness of his torn skin begin to knit back to tan again as his body healed itself. I brushed my arm against my mouth, wiping away any residual reminders of what I’d just done.

“I don’t feel any different,” I said, suddenly wondering if that episode had just been a huge waste of time. What if Bram’s blood didn’t act like it did on Earth? Maybe it was just as impotent as Knight’s abilities and my magic? If that were the case, then I was nothing but pissed off. My head was still aching, I was stuck in the most miserable prison I’d ever seen and the one man who had stolen my heart had been sentenced to die …

“Give it a moment,” Bram said, smiling down at me. “Your bruise is already fading, sweet.”

I felt surprise fluttering about inside of me and was about to comment on as much when I suddenly felt like my stomach was turning in on itself. I lurched over, grabbing my middle as pangs of agony doubled me over. It was like being stabbed in the gut with a pitchfork repeatedly. My insides were suddenly caught in a whirlwind, smashing against one another.

“Dulcie?” It was Knight but I couldn’t look at him or even respond. “Bram, what the hell did you do to her?”

I keeled over and felt myself fall forward. Knight caught me and I bumped against his broad chest, wishing I could feel comforted by his embrace. Instead, the fire inside me continued to burn.

“She will heal,” Bram said matter-of-factly. “Her body is trying to reject my blood but it will last only moments.”

Even as he spoke, I could feel the pain subsiding and something akin to numbness began to set in. I found I could breathe again, shallow at first and then deeper, little by little. When I tried to stand up straight, there was a slight twinge of the previous agony that had been tearing through me but it was mild enough to where I could suffer through it.

“You could have warned me, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, glaring up at Bram as I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand up straight.

“It is always better not to warn someone of impending suffering,” Bram responded and there was a lilt to his voice, like he thought this whole thing was slightly amusing.

“Are you alright, Dulce?” Knight asked as he rubbed my back and gazed down at me with concerned eyes.

I thought about the question—was I alright? The pain was now entirely absent, replaced by … intense strength, strangely enough. I felt reenergized. The dizziness and stars were like a distant memory. Now I felt as if I could run a twelve kilometer marathon. And that had to mean one thing—Bram was right. “Yeah, it worked.”

“Good, because we have more important matters to speak of,” Bram said as he faced me with a smile. He smacked his hands together in a gesture of impatience, like he had places to go and creatures to see.

“Important matters?” I repeated, surprise evident in my voice. It always seemed that Bram was at least one step ahead of me, owing to the fact, no doubt, that he was very good at keeping important details to himself.

Bram nodded. “While I was away,” he started and I figured he’d meant from the time he disappeared in the courtroom until now, “I was able to reach your Mr. Beaurigard.”

“You did what?” I asked, shocked. “You got in touch with Quill?” It really shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise because Quill and Bram sort of hung out in the same circles. That is to say, Quill was an outlaw and Bram dealt with a lot of outlaws, so I was sure at some point, their paths had to have crossed.

“Yes, quite so, sweet,” Bram said. He became quiet again, apparently enjoying the surprise on both of our faces. He definitely liked laboring under the belief that he was as spontaneous as they came. Although I didn’t know what Bram’s real last name was, I was about to dub him Bram Unpredictable.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Knight prodded. “Or are we just going to have to stand here and deal with your smug riddles all day?”

Bram frowned at Knight but said nothing. He merely cleared his throat and faced me again. “I felt Mr. Beaurigard needed to be made aware that you and the Loki were in the prison of the High Court and being detained for his transgressions.”

I swallowed hard, amazed that Bram would go to such lengths for me. I figured he’d merely booked passage back to Splendor once it looked like my fate had been sealed. But I was completely wrong. And for that I was thankful.

“And what happened?” Knight prodded.

Bram shrugged. “He told me he would turn himself in, do the honorable thing.”

“What?!” I asked in shock, trying to make sense of what Bram had just said. Quill was coming to the Netherworld? To turn himself in? “You mean Quill is coming here, to the High Court?”

Bram nodded and then cocked his head like maybe it wasn’t quite as simple as that. “Well, that is what he told me, in any case. Whether he sticks to his word, we shall find out.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “I imagine it will be quite a decision for him to make.”

Suddenly, I felt incredibly worried for Quill which really made no sense because on the flipside, Quill’s arrival could mean the release of Knight and me. But what would it mean for Quill? If he came here and turned himself in, he would absolutely be sentenced to die. But would his death sentence release Knight? Would it release me? I wasn’t sure and it wasn’t something I even wanted to think about. Quillan’s life in return for Knight’s and mine wasn’t a trade that I wanted any part of.

“At any rate, that is my news, as of now.” Bram started for the cell door and then turned back to face me. “I will learn what is to be done regarding your hearing, Dulcie sweet.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Bram, for … everything.”

“Yes,” Knight added. “I believe I misjudged you.” Bram’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling as Knight continued. “Thank you for acting as guardian for Dulcie. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Bram frowned and seemed at odds with the words coming from Knight’s lips. It was at that moment that I realized Bram was jealous of Knight, deeply. The vampire said nothing but took a few steps toward the cell door and then paused. He turned around to face me and smiled without humor.

“Dulcie, I believe you owe me a kiss.”

I swallowed hard. “A kiss?” I repeated, suddenly realizing he was referring to our contractual kiss-a-day.

“What the hell?” Knight started.

So Bram wasn’t quite the chivalrous gentleman I made him out to be. He was still looking out for himself. I took a deep breath and thought about the fact that this would not go well, not with Knight acting as sentry. I could see the impending storm already on the horizon.

I faced Knight and shook my head. “It was the only way I could get him here.”

“What was the only way?” Knight demanded, anger coloring his eyes until they flamed a brilliant blue.

“We have a contract,” Bram answered, his smile still in full effect. “In return for my guardianship, Dulcie promised me one kiss per day and she has yet to deliver today’s kiss.”

“Over my fucking dead body,” Knight stormed and started forward. “I knew you were a rat bastard.”

“Rat bastard or not,” Bram started as he began buffing his nails against his lapel. “Your fairy owes me.”

I stepped away from Knight and turned back, putting the flat of my hand on his chest. “It’s a kiss, Knight, it’s not the end of the world.”

But judging by the expression on Knight’s face, a kiss was second in line to the end of the world. I said nothing more but approached Bram and frowned. “Make it quick,” I said.

“I’m watching you,” Knight said to Bram, his eyes still burning.

I stood on my tiptoes, intending to give Bram a chaste peck on his lips but he wrapped his arms around me and forced his mouth on mine. Holding me captive as he kissed me, he sucked on my lower lip before biting it playfully. I tried to pull away and he opened his eyes.

“Our agreement was inclusive of tongue, my dear.”

“That’s enough,” Knight started and before it turned into vampire vs. Loki, I grabbed Bram’s neck and pushed my mouth on his, forcing my tongue deep inside his mouth so I could hold up my end of the bargain.

“Okay, that’s all you get,” I said angrily as I pulled away from him, wiping my mouth against my forearm.

Bram smiled and winked at Knight before he nodded to the goblin, who opened the cell door, and allowed him to leave.

***

Hours passed and darkness descended on the prison. With only the few overhead flickering yellow lights, it was basically a dungeon. But dungeon or not, I was happily nestled in Knight’s arms as we lay on the floor and I listened to his heartbeat. I’d actually managed to fall asleep, for how long, I wasn’t sure. It was the first time I’d slept in what felt like days and I sorely needed it.

“Are you awake?” I whispered, pulling away from him to find his eyes on mine. It appeared he’d been awake for a while.

“Yes,” he answered and held me against his chest. “I haven’t been able to sleep.”

I nodded, thinking about his words, about how frightened he must have been that his death sentence was looming so closely. But I had promised myself that I wouldn’t think about the future for the next few hours. Instead, I would just live in the present and enjoy every second we had together.

And suddenly I was reminded of that horrible argument Knight and I had gotten into at my apartment regarding Jack.

“Knight?”

“Yes?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about that argument we had. You were right. I was afraid of giving into my feelings for you and I acted like a child.”

He chuckled but it was a sad sound. “Dulcie, it’s okay. None of that matters now anyway.”

I turned to face him and felt something break within me. It was the feeling that I might never hold him in my arms again, never feel him breathing down on me, never witness his beautiful smile again. “How did this happen?” I asked as I ran my fingers down his face. His cheeks were stubbly with shadow.

He shook his head and sighed. “Maybe it was fate.”

“No, it isn’t fate.” I said and exhaled all my pent-up frustration, suddenly feeling angry again. It seemed like over the last couple of days I’d gone back and forth between anger and sadness. “If I could just have my hearing, I could prove it wasn’t you, Knight.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I would never put you in this place. This is how it has to be.”

I felt tears building behind my eyes. “Knight …”

“I don’t want to think about it anymore.” He caught my hand and brought it to his mouth. “I just want to have this, you and I, right now, together and alone.”

I felt the tears continue to build and once I blinked, they began rolling down my cheeks. I didn’t even try to stop them. “Whatever happens …” I lost my voice and forced myself to find it again. “I want you to know … I want you to know ...”

“I love you too, Dulcie,” Knight said and much more eloquently than my attempt.

I felt my throat tighten and I could barely breathe. The tears were coming full stream now and sliding down my cheeks, only to splash against his shirt. “I do love you,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like an anvil over the head. Why hadn’t I given into my feelings for him a long time ago? Because the truth of the matter was that I’d been in love with Knight for a very long time.

Knight glanced down at me with the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He tilted my chin up and brought his lips to mine, kissing me. It was a kiss more passionate and deeper than any we’d ever shared. It told of the emotion within each of us, of the pain and the anger that wouldn’t abate. And of the tie between us, the fact that for the next couple of days, our worlds could fall apart around us but as long as we had each other, we would laugh in the face of adversity.

I had him for two more days …

I pulled away and shifted my body around until I was facing him. I stood up, smiling down at him as I realized what I intended to do. Not worried who could see me (probably no one given how dark it was), I slid my pants down my hips. I watched Knight’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, watching my panties drop before I let them fall on top of my pants. Knight’s eyes began to glow, his body pointing to the fact that he had claimed me, that I was his mate.

I said nothing as I leaned down onto my knees and ran my hand across the stiffness between his thighs. I found the flap in his prison pants and pulled his erection through it, palming him as I ran my hand up and down his shaft. He was so incredibly hard and I wanted nothing more than to feel united with him, feel him inside me as we damned both our destinies and found a small bit of happiness in one another.

I started untying my shoelaces, wanting to free myself from my shoes, pants and panties. Knight just watched me patiently as I fought with my sneakers, trying to pull them off as quickly as I could. I glanced up at Knight and at his expression of amusement, giggled.

“Need some help?” he asked but he didn’t wait for me to respond. He merely pulled off my sneaker, helping me free my legs of my jeans and panties. Once I was completely naked, I hovered above him for just a moment, then straddled him. I reached for his erection as I ran it up and down against me, feeling myself sting with the need to have him inside me. Staring at him the entire time, I held him still and dropped myself down, throwing my head back as I felt him fill me.

He wrapped his arms around me and pushed up, until he was fully ensconced within me. Then he began pumping up and down as I rode him, fresh tears beginning to pool from my eyes again.

“I will always love you, Dulcie,” he whispered into my neck.

FOURTEEN

I woke up to the sound of metal clanking against metal. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to find the goblin working a key into our door lock. There were two plates of something that resembled slop—shapeless and colorless but definitely not odorless—on a tray at his feet. I suddenly worried that I was in a state of wardrobe disrepair from Knight’s and my love-making the night before. I glanced down and sighed in relief when I noticed I was completely clothed. Knight must have taken care of the chore of dressing me once I’d fallen asleep.

Yep, he was definitely a keeper.

I pushed up from where I’d been lying against the hard cement, with only Knight’s arm for a pillow. The entire right side of my body was numb, probably from the coldness of the floor. I glanced over at my cell mate and noticed he was lying on his side and smiling up at me; beautiful even though he was still covered with bruises and scabs from his rough treatment by the prison guards. Neither of us had showered since I couldn’t remember, so I was sure we stunk to high-heaven, although I couldn’t say my sense of smell was offended by us, only the goblin’s slop.

I didn’t have the chance to say “good morning” or even “hello,” to my incredibly handsome Loki because before I knew it, the goblin was in our cell, pushing the plates of slop at us. I frowned at him and the slop, shaking my head at the very idea of putting the nasty stuff in my mouth.

“I’d rather starve,” I grumbled.

Knight stood up and, after a quick yawn, inspected the nondescript lumps the goblin was calling food. He nodded, facing me with a quick smile, “I concur.”

“Ya have a visitor,” the goblin announced irritably as he turned to walk out of the cell, locking it behind him again. Then, as if an afterthought, he unlocked the door again and retrieved the tray, frowning at both of us as he did so.

“Is Bram here?” I asked after his retreating figure.

The goblin shook his head at the same time that a man appeared in the hallway just behind him. The man was incredibly tall, probably as tall as Knight and just as handsome with strong, chiseled and well-defined features. Well, nearly as handsome as Knight.

The goblin motioned for the man to approach our cell with a nod of his head and then, apparently thinking we might want a little privacy, retired to the far end of the corridor, taking the tray with him. Before reaching the end of the hallway, he called out, “Ya got twenty minutes,” and then the very distinct sound of a goblin eating slop accosted my ears and I felt queasy.

I couldn’t help but notice how much more compliant the goblin was when Bram was in attendance. A fact which still made me scratch my head as I wondered what level of involvement Bram had with the Netherworld higher ups. But, at the moment, I didn’t want to focus on Bram or the goblin. Instead, I was curious as to who this amazingly handsome man was—a man who looked like he could have been Knight’s brother. The man took a few steps toward our cell and then paused as he alternated his gaze from me to Knight.

“You must be a Loki,” I said out loud even though I only intended to think the statement. Before the man could respond, I felt Knight’s arm around me as he pulled me close and we approached our handsome visitor.

“Gabriel,” Knight said and the tone of his voice as well as the deep smile etched on his face pointed to the fact that he was happy to see the man. “Took you long enough!”

Knight stepped away from me and walked over to Gabriel, offering his hand through the prison bars. Gabriel took it and pumped it heartily, covering their clasped hands with his other one.

When they broke away from one another, Gabriel’s full lips broke into a dazzling smile, revealing white and perfectly straight teeth that contrasted against his olive skin. With his hazel eyes and dark brown hair, he was the second handsomest man I’d ever seen. The most handsome man award being reserved for my own Loki, of course.

“I was in the Dark World on a training mission, brother,” Gabriel answered. “Otherwise, I would have been here a long time ago.” He glanced around the prison cell and sighed, before his gaze settled on me. “You must be the fairy, Dulcie, Knight has talked so much about.”

“That’s me,” I said with a smile, surprised by Gabriel’s announcement that I had been the subject of his and Knight’s conversation. Knight turned around to face me, as though remembering I was still there. He took a step closer and threw his beefy arm around me, inviting me into the cocoon of his chest.

“Yes, this is Dulcie,” Knight said as he smiled down at me. “The one woman who has driven me to insanity on more than one occasion.”

Even though I smiled, it felt odd to me that we were doing the small talk bit considering that Gabriel was standing here, in prison, speaking to us on the other side of our cell bars. Small talk was ridiculous at this point— because it was very obvious that Gabriel had come to say good-bye to what I had to imagine was one of his closest friends.

Gabriel smiled but it wasn’t in any way a smile of contentment. Instead, it was laced with mourning and I could guess at the thoughts going through his head: “they make such a great couple; shame they’ll only be together for the next two days …”

“She’s just as beautiful as you mentioned, brother,” Gabriel said warmly, his eyes downcast as he offered another sad smile.

Knight nodded but said nothing, merely studied me as if he were seeing me for the first time. Uncomfortable with the feeling that I was like a rare oil painting on view, I cleared my throat and faced our visitor.

“Are you brothers?” I asked, wondering if that was the reason Gabriel kept referring to Knight as such. I glanced back and forth between the two of them, again noticing the similarities in their angular features, Roman noses and wide, hypnotic eyes.

Gabriel shook his head and chuckled slightly. It was a deep, rumbling sound. “No, but we might as well be for how close we are.”

“Yeah, so close that the bastard took three days to get here,” Knight said with an identical chuckle to Gabe’s. Knight dropped the laugh after a second or two as he scrutinized his friend. Then he faced me. “Gabe and I grew up together, trained together, learned what it meant to become Loki men together.”

I nodded and offered Gabe a smile. “Any friend of Knight’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel responded and then glanced around the cell again, noting the discolored cot and filthy sink with visible aversion, his eyebrows drawn together in a knot. “How are they treating you here?”

Knight shrugged as he dropped his gaze to the grimy floor and scuffed the front of his shoe against a particularly oily spot, frowning with disgust. “As you can imagine.”

Gabriel nodded and then noticed the stained floor, where a few mounds of slop had dripped off the goblin’s tray and lay there looking like the innards of some unfortunate beast. Were we seriously expected to eat that shit? Knight and I hadn’t eaten anything in the last day or so; and, even though my stomach had been whining off and on, the image of the slop lying there like gooey entrails was enough for me to consider death by starvation not a bad way to go.

Gabe glanced back at us again and any traces of joy or playfulness were absent from his expression. “How am I going to get you out of here?”

Knight shook his head and sighed heavily. “My bed is made.” He glanced over at me and smiled but I could see that he’d accepted the defeat. “It’s Dulcie I’m worried about now.”

“I’m going to be fine,” I lied but was unable to convince either of the men. I wasn’t going to be fine because even if I made it through my hearing alive and, best case scenario, was acquitted, I would never be fine unless Knight was released with me. My days of being “fine” were numbered. I could count them on one hand.

I felt my throat constrict again and tears filling my eyes. But I held them back, promising myself that I would see Knight out of this mess. I wasn’t sure how, but there had to be a way and if I were nothing else, I was resourceful. Yes, I would MacGyver us out of this hell-hole known as the Netherworld and I sensed this Gabriel might be able to help me …

“Are you ANC?” I asked him pointedly.

He glanced at me and seemed surprised that I was asking or that I’d changed the subject. As far as I was concerned, now was not the time for pity. It was time for action. And I’d be damned if the man I loved was going to die two days from now.

“Yes,” Gabe answered after he considered it thoughtfully. “I’m a Senior Regulator.”

Perfect.

I just smiled and pretended as if I weren’t forming a plan, merely asking to distract my mind away from the ugliness surrounding me, the revulsion of the situation.

“I spoke with Caressa,” Gabe started rather nonchalantly, focusing on Knight again. He leaned against the prison bars, bending down as if he were stretching out his back.

Knight shook his head. “She has her hands tied, Gabe, it’s pointless.”

Gabe stood up straight again and cocked his head to the side as if he were considering Knight’s statement—then rejecting it. “It does appear her hands are tied,” he agreed. “But we could appeal to a higher authority, Knight.”

“It’s pointless,” Knight said with his lips in a straight line.

“We could demand another trial with a full jury. We could make it known that this is a crock of centaur shit and won’t be tolerated,” Gabe continued, heat rising in his voice. “Caressa is ready to go to bat for you and you know I will.”

Knight laughed acidly. “Gabe, you know what will happen.” When Gabe didn’t respond right away, Knight answered for him. “Nothing.” He shook his head and ran an agitated hand through his hair, his expression one of frustration. “I appreciate it, Gabe, but it’s merely wishful thinking.”

Gabe was quiet for a second or two as he watched his friend and I could see the pain in his eyes when he realized Knight was right. It was a foolish errand to try and appeal to the very ones who wanted Knight dead and, apparently, had for a while now.

“I know what this is about,” Gabe said in a soft voice.

Knight’s jaw was tight. “Stay out of it. The less you profess to know, the better.” He glanced away and shook his head before facing his friend again. “Don’t end up here, Gabe, don’t end up where I am.”

Gabe nodded and looked as if he were about to say something more when I heard the sound of a woman’s voice coming down the hallway. I craned my neck to watch April as she walked past the first few cells, towards us, amid whistles and cat calls from the inmates.

Gabe immediately turned around and as soon as he recognized her, strode up the hallway, his hulking form nearly taking up the entire space. He greeted her with a large smile and a protective arm around her shoulder as if to remind her she had a bodyguard in this hideous place.

“April,” he said and, based on the sweet tone of his voice, it was pretty obvious he had the hots for her.

She smiled up at him shyly. “Hello, Gabriel,” she said, giving him a slightly more flirtatious smile. They walked down the hallway looking like a Cialis commercial. Once they were standing in front of us, April wiggled out from underneath Gabe’s arm, apparently trying to preserve the image of “business professional.” She glanced at each of us with a warm smile. “Knight and Dulcie.”

“Hi, April,” Knight said and I merely smiled with a quick nod.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Gabe said, suddenly facing her with concern in his eyes. The goblin merely watched from the top of the hallway, making no motion to inquire as to April’s visit. ’Course she was sent from the ANC so I guess it made sense that he didn’t ask any questions. I also wondered why I hadn’t seen the Cyclops since the incident yesterday. Not that I was complaining …

April nodded and met Knight’s gaze, then instantly averted her eyes. “Caressa sent me,” she said softly. She turned around and glanced up and down the hallway, as if searching for any sign of the goblin or some other guard. Once the coast was apparently clear, she faced Knight again. “She wanted me to give you this,” she said as she fished inside her purse, producing a folded letter which she handed to Knight.

He accepted it and turned his back to us while he read the contents. When he faced her again, he handed her the letter and she immediately searched inside her purse until she found a small bag of what looked like purple powder, the color and consistency of grape-flavored Kool-Aid mix. She dropped the paper on the ground, and opening the small bag, sprinkled the purple contents on top of the paper. Then she simply said: “Ignite.”

I watched the paper puff up with a huge flare, only to die down again after a few seconds, reduced to a few sheets of carbon which April then stomped out with her foot.

After her demonstration, she faced Knight expectantly.

“Please tell Caressa thank you, but no,” he said graciously.

“Knight,” April started but I interrupted her.

“What is it, Knight?” I demanded. “What did the letter say?”

He faced me and shook his head. “Nothing I want you to know about.” Then he looked at April again. “Please tell Caressa I appreciate her concern.”

April nodded, a frown marring her pretty face as she shook her head in apparent dejection that Knight would not be persuaded to save himself—not by Caressa, Gabriel or me. Especially not if it meant my damnation.

“Good luck to … you both,” April added as she faced the prison around her. “I … I need to get going.”

“I’ll see you out,” Gabe interjected and walked her up the hallway.

“What was it?” I demanded, facing Knight eagerly. “What was in the letter?”

“A way out,” he answered softly, shaking his head. “But a way I would never agree to take. Until I can rest assured that you are safe, Dulcie, I won’t agree to anything.”

***

The morning greeted me with nothing but heartache because the following day would mark the end of Knight’s life unless I could figure out a way to save him. I had a visit from Bram the night before and he informed me that he’d gone straight to Caressa to inquire as to when my hearing would be scheduled. She couldn’t give him an exact date, as she was still waiting to hear from the powers above and it seemed they were taking their sweet ass time.

As far as Knight and I were concerned, we were out of time. Which meant that at this point, I needed a miracle …

Miracles are funny things because it’s not as though they arrive tied with a big red bow and wrapping paper announcing them as miracles. Nope, sometimes they arrive in the shape of Caressa Brandenburg.

After hurrying past the goblin without so much as a “hello,” she strode up to our cell, in an obvious foul mood. Her steps were hurried and the tapping of her heels against the concrete floor echoed the frenetic beating of my heart. She unlocked the cell door while the goblin looked on in surprise.

“Caressa?” Knight asked as he faced her expectantly.

“She’s being released,” Caressa said with an edge to her voice. It told me she was in no way happy about the fact I was being released. I, myself, couldn’t comprehend what release meant exactly.

“My hearing has been scheduled?” I asked, standing up from my sitting position on the floor, my legs suddenly buckling with pins and needles. I braced myself against the bars and shook out one foot after another, forcing the blood flow back into my body.

Caressa glanced at me and frowned. “No. There will be no hearing.”

“I don’t understand,” I started but she breathed out impatiently and propped her hands on her hips as if to say I needed to keep up with her.

“I’ve received orders from above to release you of all liability in this case and personally ensure that you go back through the portal to Splendor, Earth.”

“What?” I started and then I realized what that meant. I backed away and shook my head, standing between her and Knight. “No, I won’t leave him.”

I turned to look at Knight, only to find he was smiling, as if this were the best thing that could have happened. Caressa faced him, shaking her head, her anger palpable. “You have no choice,” she said and addressed me impatiently. “We need to leave soon so I’ll give you a few minutes to say your good-byes.”

She then walked out of the cell, locking the heavy door behind her as she strode up the hallway to discuss something with the goblin.

“Knight,” I started as I felt tears in my eyes for the umpteenth time since I’d arrived in the Netherworld. “I am going to get you out of here.”

He shook his head. “You’re free now, Dulce.” Then he smiled again and it beamed of true happiness. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

He grabbed hold of me and pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. The tears in my eyes were now streaming down my face and I felt as if something inside of me was breaking.

“I’m not giving up,” I said as my voice caught in my throat. “I’m not giving up.”

“Dulcie, please do me one favor, that’s all I ask.” He took a deep breath. “Just never come back here. Go through that portal and live out the rest of your life. I want you to be happy.”

Even though I nodded, I could never agree to leave him here. My mind was racing as I thought about the possibilities, the ways in which I could prevent tomorrow’s execution from ever occurring. I would fight my damnedest and if I failed to save him, at least I would go down in a blaze of glory, knowing I did everything I could.

Knight gripped both sides of my face and there was fire in his eyes. “Promise me.”

I swallowed hard. “I promise.” And it was the first time I’d ever lied to him outright.

Knight pulled me close and kissed me with hard, passionate lips. “I will always love you, Dulcie O’Neil,” he whispered.

***

Once I changed out of my Netherworld prison scrubs and was back in my jeans and T-shirt, Caressa escorted me from the prison and into her ANC company Town Car. We both were silent as we made the long trek to the parking lot—silent even as Caressa started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. She drove down a residential street, complete with a netted overhang stretching from street lamp to street lamp, probably to shield residents from the flying creatures.

As we exited the city limits and started on a rural road where there were no longer any netted canopies, we had yet to meet another car. After five minutes straight, I had to imagine we were en route to the airport. I cleared my throat and started in on my plan A.

“You don’t have to take me to the airport,” I started.

She glanced at me in the rearview mirror and frowned before turning back to the road in front of her. “I have orders.”

“So break them.”

She shook her head and glanced back at me again, her blue eyes narrowed. “Why?”

I shrugged and stared outside at the trees that blurred by and the azure sky, complete with white puffy clouds. It was a beautiful day, such a contrast to the dark, tempestuous storm that was brewing within me. I eyed the back of Caressa’s head again and caught her reflection in the mirror. “Because you don’t want me to be released and neither do I.”

“So what?”

“It should be me in prison and you and I both know it, Caressa. Knight is innocent and he’s being punished because someone higher than both of you in the ANC doesn’t like him.”

Caressa nodded but her lips were still tight. She must have taken her foot off the gas because the car suddenly slowed down considerably. Good thing there wasn’t anyone behind us or they probably would have rear-ended us.

“So what do you propose to do about it?” she demanded.

I tapped my fingers against the faux leather interior of the Town Car. “Well, I won’t be able to do a damn thing if you take me to the airport and force me to go home.”

“So, what, I should just let you go?” she asked, laughing sarcastically and shaking her head. “So I can end up being interrogated for not ensuring your return to Earth? Yeah, that sounds like a great plan.”

I was hungry, tired, dirty and my heart was broken. I really didn’t want to deal with Caressa and her bad attitude. But, I managed to keep my cool. Point for me. “What if it were as simple letting me escape?”

“It would be hugely suspect.”

I wasn’t going to give up so easily. “You could talk your way out of it, Caressa. You know you could.” I paused and took a deep breath. “Isn’t Knight’s life worth it?”

It took me by surprise when she suddenly jerked on the wheel and pulled to the side of the road. Good thing I was wearing my seatbelt or I’d have hit my head against the window for sure. She put the car in park but didn’t turn off the motor. Instead, she turned around to face me and her expression was a thoughtful one, as if she were seriously weighing the idea.

“Let’s say I let you go; what good will it do for Knight? How are you going to be able to do a damn thing for him?”

She’d bitten. Things were looking up. “I have the benefit of having nothing to lose. I’ll figure out the rest as I go.” Yes, I fully realized I was pulling a Bram plan; i.e., not actually having a plan but making one up as I went along, but at this point, I didn’t care. I just needed to talk Caressa into releasing me and the rest would come to me. Inevitably, it always did.

She sighed and faced forward, completely quiet as she apparently considered the options. Then she undid her seatbelt and stepped out, shaking her head at her own apparent bewilderment that she was agreeing to any of this. She walked to the rear of the car and opened my door.

“Out,” she said and watched as I undid my seatbelt and stood up. Then she shook her head at me and frowned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.

“You know it’s the right thing to do.”

She crossed her arms against her chest and her lips were tight. “You need to make damn sure that whatever plan you’re working on is a good one because I don’t want to see that Loki die.”

I nodded. “Well, we both have that in common.”

“I don’t want this to look too suspect,” she started as she took a deep breath. “No one will believe me if it doesn’t look like a struggle.” She chewed on her lip for a second or two. “And if you get caught, you can’t be picture-perfect either.”

I nodded, getting her gist and braced myself for what I had coming. She smiled and drew her arm back, unleashing her fist into my face. I felt the blow all the way down to my feet and took a few steps back before losing my balance and toppling into the dirt. I gripped my injured cheek and pulled my hand away, as I noticed blood trailing from my busted lip. “Holy shit, Caressa,” I started and threw her a frown.

She smiled and looked impressed with herself. Then she glanced down at her meticulous skirt suit and grabbing each side of her jacket, yanked until the buttons burst off and fell to the ground below her. She grasped her silk, off-white blouse and ripped that as well.

“Um, don’t think you’re going to get out of this without a little payback,” I said, smiling.

She glanced at me and returned the smile. “I was just preparing myself, Dulcie.”

Then she braced herself, feet shoulder-width apart and motioned for me to come at her. I took a deep breath, clenched my right hand shut, making a fist and unfurled it in the same spot where she’d nailed me. Once my fist made contact with her cheek, her head bounced back with the force and I could hear my knuckles cracking. She gripped her cheek and glared at me.

“You didn’t have to make it so hard!” She checked her lip with her fingers for a sign of blood but there wasn’t any. “Shit, that hurts!”

I laughed, still tasting the blood from my split lip. “You wanted real. That’s one hundred percent Dulcie O’Neil.”

“Go,” she said as she continued cradling her injured cheek. “Before I change my mind.”

I nodded, heaving a huge sigh of relief. “I need one more thing.”

“Really?” she asked and shook her head like I was unbelievable; but I could see there was a smile buried there, just underneath the bravado. “What would that be?”

“I need Gabriel’s phone number or his address. Both would be great.” Then I took a deep breath. “And I need a ride to the Grosvenor Hotel.”

“Anything else I can do for you? Maybe pick up your dry cleaning on the way?” Her levity told me that things were good between us. Not that we’d ever be friends, but we were both tough women who were fighting the man. And there’s an unspoken code of respect and recognition between tough women.

Caressa walked back to the driver’s seat and reached into her purse which was sitting on the passenger seat. She glanced back at me. “We’d better get in before one of those flying sons of bitches tries to grab us.”

I was so wholly engrossed in our cat fight that I hadn’t even considered the flying menaces. I wasted no time in opening the back door and throwing myself inside. Caressa took a seat in front of me and pulled the door shut as she picked up her cell phone. I have to admit the cell phone surprised me in the Netherworld, considering everything else seemed to be circa 1960.

Caressa thumbed through her phone and then faced me. “Do you have a pen?”

“No.”

She shook her head and reached inside her purse, producing a piece of paper and wrote down Gabriel’s information. Then she faced me again. “I can’t take you to the Grosvenor; it would look too suspicious.” Then she fished inside her purse again and pulled out two hundred dollar bills. “This is all I have on me but it should get you bus fare.”

“Caressa, I don’t have time to take the bus.”

She exhaled and shook her head, turning around to glance at me. “Has anyone ever told you what an utter and complete pain in the ass you are?”

I smiled and cocked my head to the side, pretending to consider it. “Um, yes.”

FIFTEEN

After Caressa begrudgingly dropped me off about a quarter mile from the Grosvenor Hotel (to ensure no one would see her or her car) and made me promise never to cross her path again, I collected all my things and searched, in vain, for Bram. Where the unpredictable vampire was, I had no idea but I also didn’t have much time to wait around for him. Not after Caressa said she would have to protect her own ass and report that I’d escaped. She promised to give me the rest of the night but come the morning, she would have to announce to the ANC that I had overpowered her and escaped. How she planned to explain delaying the report about my disappearance until the morning, I had no idea; but as far as I was concerned, that was her problem, not mine. I had plenty of problems on my own plate to keep me occupied.

So not finding Bram, I left him a note, telling him to return to Splendor—that there was nothing he could do for me at this point because I’d taken matters and my fate into my own hands. Now no one could help me—not Bram, Knight, Caressa … not even Quill’s surrender to the authorities. I guess you could say I’d become a renegade.

After lugging my bag downstairs, the concierge called me a cab and a few minutes later, I found myself en route to Gabriel’s, clutching the piece of paper where Caressa had scrawled his address and phone number.

“Here we are,” the cab driver said and pulled to the side of Wilson Street, in front of a large grocery store. Even though I was still a good quarter mile from Gabriel’s apartment, I didn’t want to involve him and I figured it wouldn’t be smart to be seen pulling up in front of his apartment building.

I glanced at the driver, and saw she was a harpy. She had a beautiful body—large breasts and a small waist that flared into broad hips. She was dressed in skin tight jeans and on top, sported what amounted to a bra. Her face, though, in true harpy style, was that of an old crone—deep wrinkles, spider-web fine, grey hair and deep-set, bubbly brown eyes juxtaposing a nose that was in a word, generous. She was the epitome of the saying: “Drink ’em pretty.”

“That’ll be two fifty,” she said in a smoker’s voice before she erupted into a coughing fit that sounded like she was suffering from emphysema.

“Um, I only have two hundred,” I answered with a sheepish smile as I handed the two bills Caressa had given me to the harpy, hoping she might find it in her miserable soul to give me a discount. If anyone needed a break, it was me. Holy Hades, I’d been through hell and back ...

She frowned as she turned to face me, her beady eyes narrowing beneath her bushy eyebrows. “What else you got on you?” she demanded.

I sighed. I didn’t have much and I was sure she was hinting at street potions or the like. “I’ve got clothes.”

She craned her neck so she could get a better look at me and seemed to be raking me from head to toe. “You look about the same size as me.”

“My bag’s in the back. Take what you want,” I muttered. She nodded and opened her door, retrieving my suitcase from the trunk. She plopped it on the front seat, opened it and started sorting through my clothes, throwing things that suited her fancy over her arm.

“We’re good,” she said after she’d wadded up two shirts and two pairs of jeans and tossed them onto the passenger seat. Damn, she got my Seven For All Mankind jeans. Son of a bitch!

“Great,” I muttered and opened the door, rechecking the paper in my hand that proclaimed Gabriel lived at 3676 Fifth Street. I walked around to the front seat, closed up my bag and started forward.

“Have a good night,” the harpy growled at me as she unrolled her window. Then, appearing to choke on something, opened her mouth and spat some sort of brownish liquid into the street.

“Thanks,” I answered dismissively, trying to keep my gag reflexes under control while I watched her drive away.

I started walking down Wilson Street, looking for Fifth Street which was supposed to cross Wilson. A few minutes later, I hit Fifth and took a right, finally arriving at 3676 and heaved a sigh of relief.

The building was nondescript, seventies style and tan. It was three stories high, on a residential street lined with rental properties and tall pine trees. There was an overhead net covering the street like a huge, arcing fishnet stocking, reminding me of the one I saw with Caressa. How anyone could live in this battleground was beyond me. I’d definitely seen enough of the Netherworld to know I never wanted to come back … that is, if I ever got the chance to leave.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I ran up to the double doors leading into Gabe’s apartment building. Once inside, I noticed an elevator and hit the button to call it. Luckily, it arrived quickly and I wasted no time in leaping inside and hitting the button that would take me to the third floor. Once there, I hightailed it down the hallway, searching for apartment number 354.

Finding it, I took a deep breath and knocked. Now was the time of reckoning.

Please be home, Gabe, please be home, I said to myself, keeping my fingers crossed all the while.

Apparently someone up there was smiling down on me or maybe the God of bad luck just wasn’t paying attention to little ol’ me because the door opened and revealed a confused Gabriel. But the important point to note was that, confused or not, Gabriel was home. My night was suddenly looking up.

“Thank Hades, you’re home,” I said and shook my head in relief, before noticing that his chest was bare and he was wearing a pair of worn jeans, looking like a dream come true. I gulped as soon as I saw his chest, realizing it was the exact copy of Knight’s and that thought caused my heart to constrict.

Knight is going to be fine, I told myself in the hope that I wouldn’t become a blubbering mess.

“Dulcie?” Gabe asked, obviously surprised to see me even as a smile spread across his face. “Did you … did you both get out?”

I shook my head and hated the look of disappointment in his eyes. “No, Gabe, and we need to talk. I … I need your help.”

He chuckled. “Well, you’re definitely adept at playing the part of damsel in distress.” He shook his head in apparent amusement and turned around, walking into his apartment.

“Sorry,” I said absentmindedly. “I guess I’m not much for greetings.”

Gabe eyed me with an elevated brow and just smiled. Then, apparently noticing that I was still standing outside, he motioned for me to enter with a wave of his hand. “No loitering … Didn’t you notice the sign on your way up?”

I laughed and suddenly felt intense relief. Why? I wasn’t sure because it wasn’t like I was any closer to sparing Knight. Of course, getting Gabe’s help was a step closer and even though I had a hell of a lot more to accomplish tonight, it was a step in the right direction. And, hey, it felt good to have a friend in this shithole.

I took a few steps inside his house and noticed it was decorated decently well, considering it was a bachelor pad. The walls were a dark cocoa, combined with the chocolate leather couch and rich wood furnishings. It had a definite warm flavor to it. A huge entertainment system dwarfed one wall, complete with surround-sound speakers. Boys and their toys …

“I play a mean game of Mortal Combat,” Gabe said with an infectious smile.

But I wasn’t concerned with Mortal Combat at the moment. I had to imagine I’d be going through enough of that in the hours to come. Now I needed help. “Gabe,” I started as I watched him reach for his T-shirt which was draped over one of his kitchen stools. He threw it over his head, pulling it down over his well-defined chest. “Caressa released me earlier today but I shouldn’t be here—I’m supposed to be on a portal back to Earth.”

“And obviously you aren’t,” he said as he eyed me knowingly. He released a pent-up breath of what I imagine was anxiety over my now being a criminal on the run whom he was illegally abetting. “How did you get here?” he asked.

“A cab; but don’t worry, I had it drop me off a few blocks from here.”

He nodded but that expression of concern hadn’t left his eyes. “Why do I have the feeling you’re a wanted woman?”

Well, that was basically the gist of it. “I’m not going to be wanted until tomorrow morning,” I said as I offered him an apologetic smile—basically for involving him. But I had no other choice—I had nowhere else to go. “As of now, anyone who matters thinks I’m en route to Earth Splendor.” I took a seat on his leather couch, feeling as if I could fall asleep right there. I was suddenly exhausted. It felt like I’d been going nonstop since I got here—either in court, fending off Cyclops or going through major emotional trauma. And to top it all off, I hadn’t had much sleep and even less to eat in Hades only knew how long.

“But you made a stopover here,” Gabe said with a secretive smile. “And I can’t imagine it was to say good-bye to me.”

I nodded as I thought about my next steps, what my plan entailed. I’d gotten this far and it almost felt like it had been too easy. The biggest hurdle so far had been worrying about whether or not Caressa was going to agree to help me. Well, one hurdle down but who knew how many more to come …

“No, I didn’t come to say good-bye.”

Gabe took a few steps closer, sitting on the arm of the couch as he glanced down at me with a sweet smile. “So if this isn’t a social call …”

I shook my head, wondering where I should start. “No, it’s not a social call at all, Gabe.” I looked at my knee which was bouncing nervously. I was apprehensive … I had been for days. “I came here to ask you to help me free Knight.”

Gabe swallowed hard and gazed at me, as if he saw right through me. “You know I’m ANC, Dulcie.”

I nodded, thinking it an odd comment. “Yes, that’s why I came to you.”

He began tapping his fingers against his thigh in time to the bouncing of my leg. Frazzled nerves, anyone?

“I want to help however I can, Dulcie, but I need to be careful,” he said finally.

“I’m not going to put you in any danger, Gabe. I’m accepting all responsibility in this. It’s your behind-the-scenes assistance I’m after.”

Gabe stood up and took a deep breath, walking toward the window. He glanced outside and was quiet for a few seconds as he seemed to zone out, probably getting lost in his own thoughts, weighing the options. When he turned to face me again, he smiled sadly. “Knight would never forgive me if something happened to you ... if I let something happen to you.”

I shook my head. I’d come this far, I wasn’t about to be talked out of it now. “Knight has one day left, Gabe. So his never forgiving you isn’t something you really have to worry about.”

“When you put it that way …” his words died, swallowed up by the air.

He dropped his gaze to the floor and seemed to be inspecting the carpet. But I knew better. He was still weighing the options, trying to decide if he should honor his best friend’s last wishes or put his faith in me, someone he didn’t know and probably doubted. “I know what you’re thinking,” I started as I offered him a wizened smile. “I’m not much to look at—small and a woman. But that’s where people always make their mistake—they misjudge me because I can fight like a tiger when I care about someone.”

Gabe smiled down at me and nodded. “Knight said you were the strongest woman he’d ever met.” He paused for a second or two as if he was thinking about his friend’s words and he studied me with narrowed but exacting eyes, sizing me up, trying to decide if he thought I could pull this off, if I could save Knight. “Okay, Dulcie, how can I help?”

I smiled, appreciating the fact that he was going to make this easy on me. I needed all the friends I could get. And already there was a plan taking place in my head, delineating itself into something real, something tangible, something that just might work. “Does the head of the ANC work in the ANC building at the airport?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I nodded. That was good. No, I didn’t know the building at all well but the airport was an island unto itself—separated from the rest of Splendor, Netherworld, which meant fewer onlookers. “Great. I need a map of that building, Gabe. I need to know entry points and exits as well as where his office is located.” I took a deep breath. “I need to know where bathrooms are, janitorial closets … anything you can tell me.”

“Going after the head of the ANC, huh?”

I inhaled deeply. The less he knew, the better but I had to admit to myself that I’d just been incredibly obvious. “It’s the only way.”

“What are you planning?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to involve you.”

He nodded and took a deep breath, studying me intently with those beautiful hazel eyes. “You realize you could get yourself killed?”

“I realized that a long time ago and it didn’t stop me then.” I smiled. “It’s not going to stop me now.”

Gabe returned the smile and even added a slight chuckle to it, shaking his head like I was unbelievable. “I have a map of the ANC building in my desk at work.”

“You have a map?” I asked, surprised.

“I guess it helps to be on the emergency preparedness team,” he said with a chuckle. “We’re given a map with exits clearly identified.”

I shook my head as I laughed at my timely luck. “Good thing you’re a good corporate citizen.” Then I faced him again, thinking of the next item to check off my list. “Do you know the ANC head’s hours? When he comes and goes?”

Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know when he comes and goes; but I can tell you he’s a workaholic. He isn’t married and doesn’t have any children so he basically spends all his time at the office.”

I nodded. This was good news. Even better news that he didn’t have a family—it would be easier to pull the trigger knowing he’d have few to mourn him. “Do you think he’ll be there tonight? In a few hours?”

Gabe cocked his head to the side as he considered the question. “Most probably. Are you planning on acting tonight, though, Dulcie? That isn’t much time to cement a plan …”

“I don’t have the luxury of time, Gabe,” I pointed out as I thought about the repercussions, should I fail in my scheme tonight. “Knight could be dead in the morning.”

He nodded and glanced at the floor, heaving a sigh of what I imagined was anxiety for his friend. “Then I guess I’d better go get that map.”

“As long as it won’t seem strange that you’re there at this hour?” I started, not even sure what time it was. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight p.m. “The last thing I want is to have you attract undue attention.”

He shook his head. “We Regulators come and go as we please, basically making up our own hours.”

It was the same as when I worked as a Regulator at the ANC in Splendor. I smiled at him as my stomach suddenly started groaning, bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t eaten in a long ass time.

“Raid the fridge,” Gabe said, pointing to it as if to reiterate the fact that he wanted me to.

“Thanks and, um, while you’re gone, do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

He smiled. “Mi casa es su casa.”

***

After I’d eaten and showered, I felt better than I had in a long time. Even though I was still exhausted, the warm water had done a number on my frazzled nerves. I felt as if I could think again, and I came up with, what I considered, a pretty solid plan. The beauty of my plan was that I didn’t have to rely on anyone. Well, in the actual carrying out of the plan I didn’t have to rely on anyone. I would have to rely on Gabe for the lead-up.

While Gabe went to Headquarters to retrieve the map, I not only showered but, when raiding his kitchen, I managed to sate myself on frozen lasagna and two beers. My heart rate had been through the roof since my arrival here and I figured the beers might take the edge off.

Gabe returned to his apartment at nine o’clock on the dot. I finished the last sip of my Bud Light and dropped it in the trash, noticing he didn’t seem to have a separate bin for recycling. Shame on Gabe … or maybe they just didn’t recycle here in Hellville.

“Got the map?” I asked with a smile, stretching my arms out and looping my fingers together to stretch them too.

He nodded and placed a few manila folders on the table. Opening one of them, he pulled out a legal-sized sheet of paper that was folded over on itself. He unfolded it and laid it out on the table in front of him, smoothing the edges as I took the few steps separating us. Standing next to him, I leaned over the table, taking stock of the map. And I was impressed—it was fairly detailed, inclusive of all exits, bathrooms, closets, and offices in the building.

“Good?” Gabe asked.

I nodded, suddenly finding it strange that Gabe didn’t seem in the least bit concerned for the big boss even though he apparently worked with him. Although I hadn’t detailed my plan to Gabe, it was pretty obvious that I was gunning for the man in charge. “You don’t seem very concerned about the head …” I started, wondering if there was a reason why.

“He’s a bastard,” he was quick to answer and then shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, whatever happens … happens.”

I nodded, wondering what the man had done to make Gabe and Knight hate him so much. Or, what Knight had done to make the head want to knock him off. “Why does he want Knight dead?” I asked, wondering if Gabe knew or would tell me, if he did.

“It’s not my place,” Gabe answered. “Knight doesn’t want you to know for a reason.”

I wasn’t going to push the subject because it really didn’t matter now. It was sort of a moot point. The Head of the Netherworld wanted Knight dead and that was all that mattered. Now I had to get into that building without anyone seeing me and from there, I had a date with the head honcho, the big wig of the Netherworld.

“Did anyone see you?” I asked.

Gabe shook his head. “Nope, no one did. I parked down the street and was in and out in, maybe, five minutes flat.”

“And if you’re caught on video surveillance or if it turns out someone did see you?”

“I grabbed a case file that I’m currently working on,” Gabe said, pointing at the manila folders sitting on the kitchen table with a dimpled, handsome smile. “I’m legit, Dulce.”

I smiled and patted him on the back. “Nicely done.”

He smiled in return and seemed to study me for a few seconds. “I know why Knight’s so into you.”

I felt my eyes widen with surprise by the subject change. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “You’re beautiful, yes, but there’s more to you than just a pretty face. You’re a good woman and they can be hard to find.”

“Well, I’d say you found a good woman in April.”

Surprise filled his wide eyes. “Was I that obvious?”

I laughed. “Just a little.”

He chuckled with me and, after a few seconds, our laughs faded to silence; and I recognized the weight of the situation. Tonight could very well be the last night of my life. At any rate, tonight would most certainly mark a turning point for me—something I might never come back from. But those weren’t thoughts that I wanted any part of—what needed to wholly occupy my mind was the idea that I was rescuing Knight from certain, impending death.

“I need two more things from you before I can leave, Gabe,” I said in a deadly serious tone.

“Anything.”

“I need a weapon. I didn’t bring my Op 6 with me.”

He nodded. “I’ve got an Op 7.”

The Op 7 was just slightly larger than my Op 6. It was Quillan’s weapon of choice and I was more than accustomed to shooting one. “Is it registered to you?”

He shook his head. “No, to the ANC and it’s the same registry we use for ANC employees on Earth.”

This was all very good news—it meant the gun wasn’t traceable. “So for all intents and purposes, it could have been a gun I brought over with me?”

He nodded. “Once we clean off my prints, there’s nothing tying me to it.”

“Good,” I said with a smile. “Second thing, I need to use your phone.”

“Sure,” he answered, motioning to the corner of the room where I noticed a rotary phone on a small table beside a plush leather chair that matched the couch.

“I’m going to call my best friend who works for the ANC. It will just look like you called the ANC in Splendor, Earth, should anyone ever want to know.”

“I’m not worried,” Gabe said with a smile.

I stood up and approached the phone, knowing that Sam wouldn’t be at work at this hour but I couldn’t call her at home. It would look too suspicious for Gabe in case they ever pulled his phone records. I picked up the phone and dialed the number for the ANC, then her extension when it asked me for one.

“Hi, this is Samantha White with the Association of Netherworld Creatures. I can’t take your call at the moment but please leave me a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks and have a great day,” the chipper recording of her voice rang out.

I suddenly felt something cold and dark inside of me as I thought that I might never see Sam again. She was the closest person to family I had.

The beep sounded, prodding me to speak. I started to say something but my throat suddenly constricted around my larynx and cut it off. I made some sort of coughing sound and cleared my throat.

“Sam, it’s me … I … I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye properly but I didn’t have time. Anyway, things are looking bad for Knight and … for me. I just wanted to tell you that whatever happens, I will always love you and you are like a … sister to me.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not sure when I’m going to be back or if I’m going to be back. And if I do come back, I’m not sure I can contact you without risk … for both of us.” I sighed deeply. “As you can probably tell, I haven’t exactly thought all of this through. I just couldn’t let Knight die for my mistake and that’s my only motivation.” I paused for a second or two. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I hope I can see you again really soon. Bye … er, bye for now.”

I didn’t know what else to say and when the tears refilled my eyes again, I hung up.

SIXTEEN

Twenty minutes later, I found myself at the rear entrance of the ANC Headquarters of the Netherworld. Of course, I couldn’t just walk in through the front doors, not when there was, undoubtedly, video surveillance. Instead, Gabe dropped me off in the parking lot opposite the Headquarters lot and told me to find the back entrance which had an open door because the janitorial staff was on night duty and used it to come and go.

I borrowed a black-hooded sweatshirt from Gabe which fit me like a dress, ending at my shins; but at least the hood covered my head and the sweatshirt was roomy enough for my wings which seemed to be in hibernation for the last six hours or so—something that was totally fine by me.

I said a quick good-bye to Gabe and thanked him for all his help. I felt especially good because I doubted he would be considered a suspect in any way, if it ever came up. He was a genuinely great guy and there seemed to be something brewing between April and him so the last thing I wanted to do was get in the way of that. Now, more than ever before, I had new respect and admiration for love. Even though I sounded completely lame and corny, I was happy with the change. It actually felt good to be able to find hope inside yourself, to cultivate and encourage it.

What the hell had happened to me? It was like I’d been possessed by Tony Robbins.

Tony Robbins’s possession aside, I had lots to do and not a lot of time to do it. Gabe pointed out the Head of the Netherworld’s car in the parking lot, which was, incidentally, a brand new, sapphire blue Jaguar XKR. Gabe said they started at $100,000. So, I guess luxury items from Earth could be transported to the Netherworld—as long as you were the head honcho, that is. That nuisance aside, the important point to note was that the Head of the Netherworld was still in the building, exactly where I wanted him to be.

Pulling the black hood closer around my face, I patted my chest just to remind myself that the Op 7 was where it should be—nestled in its holster and strapped across my chest. I took a deep breath and started for the back door where I’d already witnessed a janitor coming and going. There was an industrial-sized vacuum standing unattended outside as well as four huge trash cans and a box of bin liners sitting just beside them.

I started forward from my position in the bushes at the far end of the parking lot. I stayed in the shadows as I neared the door, silently appreciative of the fact that the Netherworld seemed to be very densely wooded—it was easy to hide when you could take advantage of the shadows.

I reached the side of the building and tucked myself around the corner, lost in darkness. The moon was eclipsed—completely obscured by dark clouds that threatened to rain. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say the gods of the Netherworld had been assisting me, shrouding me in darkness, offering me cover and masking the moonlight.

The janitor suddenly appeared in the doorway and started whistling something that sounded like “Hound Dog” by Elvis. He happened to be a Minotaur which was a creature that was a bull on the bottom and human on the top. Taurean horns sprung from the center of his head, twisting out left and right. Minotaurs were known for their savagery which is probably why this one was on duty at night and alone—the chances of anything threatening it were pretty slim.

The Minotaur janitor stood at eight feet tall or thereabouts and its fur was a dark brown, starting at its navel (it wasn’t wearing a shirt) and disappearing under its pants. Its cloven hooves peeked out from beneath its rolled up pants and clanked against the asphalt as it busied itself with cleaning duties.

I needed to avoid the Minotaur at all costs. Since it was known for its violent temper, it only stood to get more violent when it came to sex. Given the fact that I was like a walking aphrodisiac, that wasn’t a situation I wanted any part of. I already had to defend myself against the advances of the freaking Cyclops. I really didn’t want to add bull-man to my list of conquests.

Holy Hades, the sooner I could get out of this damn place, the better.

It appeared I was going to be given the chance to enter the building in a matter of minutes because the Minotaur was in the process of tying four bags of trash closed. Once he finished that little task, he lifted the bags—all of which were easily the size of me—and headed for the trash bins which were all the way across the parking lot.

Now he was actually singing the words to “Hound Dog” and when I looked closer, I noticed ear phones covering his ears, the cord of which was attached to a Walkman in the waist of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to hear me when I beelined for the open door … Perfect, wonderful, praise Hades!

Once the Minotaur was halfway to the trash bins with his back towards me, I made my move and sprinted the thirty feet separating me from the doorway. Once through the door, I noticed a staircase leading upstairs. I happened to also notice the Minotaur’s shirt hanging over the side of the railing, complete with a logo proclaiming the name of the janitorial company for which he worked. It was a bright green and screamed “uniform!” which was perfect for my needs. I grabbed it and took the stairs two at a time as I unzipped my jacket and reached inside my holster for the Op 7. I pulled the gun out and checked it, relishing the fact that I was armed and ready to take on whomever. I reached the top of the stairs and found myself in front of a door.

But I was expecting to reach a door because I’d studied Gabe’s map and planned for everything that had happened so far … well, with the exception of the janitor’s shirt—that had just been pure luck. Once through the door at the top of the stairs, I’d make a right turn and at the end of the corridor, I’d be greeted by a restroom. I’d have to get into that restroom and put the janitor’s shirt on before planning my next course of action.

I glanced through the two-foot-square window at the top of the door, checking both sides of the hallway for any traffic. Finding the hallway clear, I pushed the door ajar and squeezed through the small opening, being careful not to let the door slam behind me. Then, with my gun in low ready, I turned right and sidled down the wall as I approached the bathroom.

Not meeting with any resistance, I opened the door to the restroom, immediately dropping down on my knees to ascertain if anyone was in any of the four stalls. I encountered no one. I immediately ran to the furthest stall, locking it behind me and climbed up on the toilet. I threw off my sweatshirt and replaced it with the Minotaur’s shirt. It covered my wings effortlessly since it was so much larger than I and even though it, too, looked like a dress, I decided it was less suspicious to be dressed like a cleaning woman than a thug in a hooded, black sweatshirt.

And as to the Minotaur discovering his shirt was gone? I just had to take my chances. Minotaurs weren’t known for being especially intelligent and I figured I’d just have to play my lucky card on that one, hoping that this Minotaur was especially dumb or, at the very least, forgetful.

Once I was dressed, I slid the Op 7 into the waistline of my pants, with my thoughts on Knight. Whenever we’d worked together in the past, Knight always put his gun in the line of his pants. We joked that one day, if he kept up that habit, he might end up a eunuch. I felt a smile tug at my lips as the memory swallowed my concentration.

I’m going to get you out of this shithole, Knight, I promised him and myself … again.

I pulled out the folded map from my pocket and glanced at the black lines that detailed the second floor of the building. There was a staircase on my right that should take me to the third floor where I planned to take another break in the men’s restroom located at the top of the stairs, in exactly the same position as this restroom.

Easy peasy.

I folded the paper again and shoved it back into my pocket, taking a deep breath as I stepped down from my perch on the toilet seat. Before opening the door, I bent down to ensure no one else had entered the restroom. Granted, I hadn’t heard anything, but you can never be too sure.

Finding the coast clear, I opened the stall door and gasped when I saw my reflection in the mirror, my brain immediately reacting as if it were someone else. Calming my frantic heart down, I started for the door and opened it just a crack, glancing out to make sure the hallway was clear. There was no sign of anyone.

I opened the door and stepped out, immediately turning to my left where the green glowing “Exit” sign pointed to a staircase that was just beyond yet another door. Glancing around myself again to make sure I was alone, I started for the door, pulled it open and disappeared behind it.

Once in the stairwell, I paused to listen for voices or footsteps and then started up the cement steps, silently thankful that most people are lazy and wouldn’t be caught dead taking the stairs if the elevators were available. That and it was nighttime so most employees were already at home with their families.

I took the steps, two at a time and paused just before the door once I reached the top. This one, too, had a two by two window so I glanced through it, scanning both sides of the hallway. This was the third floor, the one where I’d find the Head of the Netherworld so I had to be more careful. For all I knew, he might be wandering the hallway, on the way to the break room for coffee or maybe to the restroom.

But checking the hallway now, it looked empty so I opened the door and stepped into the corridor. I started for the men’s restroom to my left and went around the corner. I hugged the wall as I did so, pulling the Op 7 from my waistline and into in a low ready stance as I reached the bathroom door. Pushing it open with my foot and drawing the gun, I pivoted on my toes until I faced the empty bathroom.

Bending down, I made sure the stalls were empty and, finding them clear, I started for the stall at the very end. Stepping inside of it and locking it behind me, I stood on the toilet again as I fished for the map in my pocket. Unfolding it, I followed the highlighter pen that Gabe used to show me exactly where the head honcho’s office was, in proximity to the restroom. It was buttressed by two smaller offices on either side. And it was one of those smaller offices that I was targeting. Figuring I couldn’t just walk in on him, with security cameras all over the place, I came up with another idea.

Eyeing the ceiling, I immediately noted the air vent that that led to all the vents on the third floor. Perfect! This would be the easiest way to get into one of the adjacent offices.

The ceiling vent was located above a stall in the center of the restroom which was good because it meant I could hide behind the stall door and stand on top of the toilet. But that wasn’t going to be enough to allow me to reach the ceiling.

“Dammit,” I whispered to myself as I put the Op 7 back into the waistline of my pants, stepping down from the toilet. I leaned over and searched the perimeter of the bathroom to make sure no one had entered. No one had. I opened the stall door and searched for something I could use as a step stool. My eyes paused on my reflection in the mirror, where it looked like I had a hunchback, owing to my wings which were trapped beneath my shirt.

My wings …

I tore the shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor so I was standing in nothing but my bra and jeans. But I could’ve cared less. Instead, my focus was reserved for my wings as I begged them to start working.

But nothing.

Please work, stupid wings, please work, I silently implored them.

Much to my relief and surprise, the ridiculously useless things actually started to flutter, as if responding to my request. They weren’t exactly beating at this point, just fluttering futilely as if to say they thought I said something but they hadn’t quite heard it.

Fly, I commanded them. Get your asses going so I can float up to that air vent, dammit!

They started beating madly, and I sounded like an enormous bee. For the first time since arriving to this hellish place, I could honestly say that having wings wasn’t such a bad thing.

I started to float off the ground, little by little, gaining mere inches in the minutes that passed. I could tell my wings were straining to keep me airborne and I had to wonder if maybe I had more in common with a chicken than a hummingbird where flight was concerned.

Once I was about halfway to the ceiling, I felt inside my pocket, fingering the Swiss army knife Gabe had given me and, pulling it out, selected the Phillips screwdriver. After I secured it in my mouth, I glanced up at the air vent which was now mere inches from me.

Keep going, I thought to myself, offering my wings a little support and positive reinforcement. You’re almost there!

When I could reach out and touch the air vent, I felt immense relief flood me. I pulled out the screwdriver and started to work immediately, not stopping to think that the opening wasn’t exactly large. Good thing for me, that neither was I …

I got the first two screws loose and put them in my pocket as I started on the third. My little wings beat frantically to keep me airborne and I could feel the exhaustion setting in. I loosened the fourth screw and placed it in my pocket. Then using both hands, I popped the vent off and, turning it sideways, pushed it back into the vent and out of the way. Then I held onto the vent with both hands and lifted myself up which wasn’t too hard, considering my wings were finally helping.

It was a tight fit but thank Hades I was little because I barely slid in. Once I could get my waist through the opening, I felt my head hitting the top and had to pull my knees into my chest as I pushed myself into the narrow space. I couldn’t even sit all the way up and had to inchworm my way along. But I was in.

Things were looking up.

I continued inching my way through the vent, feeling like I was about two seconds away from an attack of claustrophobia. But I forced the thoughts right out of my head and focused, instead, on Knight. I encouraged myself by thinking that what I was doing right now could mean Knight’s release, and ultimate safety.

I reached another grate and glanced through the slats, finding the break room just below me; the microwave was a giveaway. I had to be close because according to the map, the break room was just two rooms away from the Head of the Netherworld’s office.

I was nearly there.

I continued creeping forward, feeling like I was getting nowhere quickly but thoughts of Knight and memories of the last time I’d seen him spurred me on. I wouldn’t be beaten, I wouldn’t be taken down. I was going to do this, I was going to see to it that Knight was released, whatever the consequences. And I knew in my heart of hearts that he would do the same for me. Hell, he was already doing the same for me.

I reached the second grate and glanced down, noticing I was hovering over someone’s desk, complete with picture frames and a bottle of lotion, probably the head’s receptionist or secretary.

I paused to take a deep breath, and reached down into my pocket for the Swiss army knife again. No, I wouldn’t be able to unscrew the screws from the reverse side to let myself out but what I could do was cut through the thin metal screen using the serrated blade from Gabe’s knife.

Before doing so, though, I peered down through the slats, listening for voices or typing or anything that would alert me to someone’s presence. I heard nothing so I pushed the blade through the thin metal and started sawing. The blade sawed through pretty effortlessly and, before I knew it, I cut around the perimeter of the vent. I picked it up and placed it in the vent just to the side of the now gaping hole I’d left in the ceiling.

I pushed my head through the hole, looking for any sign of life but not finding any, dragged my legs out of the hole and, supporting myself by holding onto the edges of the vent, I lowered myself down until I was about four feet from the ground. I released my hands and dropped just as my wings began to beat frantically, allowing me to land on my toes like a stealthy cat.

I grabbed my Op 7 from the waistline of my pants and held it out before me in low ready as I moved to the wall and faced the door leading to the Head of the Netherworld’s office. The door was closed and as soon as I reached it, I took a deep breath before I put my hand on the doorknob with the other hand gripping the Op 7. Yes, I realized I was about to pull a fast one on the Head of the Netherworld wearing only my bra and jeans but I couldn’t say I cared.

I started counting to three.

On three, I pivoted, threw the door open and aimed the gun directly before me. I immediately found myself aiming at the back of someone’s head who sat in a black, leather chair, bouncing back and forth as he talked on the phone. Apparently he hadn’t heard me enter.

“Hang up, asshole,” I said in an angry voice.

It felt like minutes ticked by as I watched him slowly swivel around until he was facing me.

“Quillan?” I asked in shock as I started to drop the gun but remembering myself, held it back up again. “What the hell …”

“I should be asking the same of you, Dulce,” he smiled as he took in the fact that I wasn’t exactly dressed.

“Are you … the Head of the Netherworld?” I asked, my voice small as the thought hit me.

He chuckled and stood up but I followed him with my gun, coming closer until only a step separated us. “No, no, far from it.”

“Then you are working with him?” I said and suddenly felt sick to my stomach as I realized the extent of the double-dealing went all the way to the Head of the Netherworld. Apparently, the bastard had been in on it all along.

Ha ha, I guess the joke was on me.

“Bingo.” I heard a voice from behind me but rather than turn my gun on whoever had just entered the room, I lurched for Quill and brought the Op 7 to his temple. Then I turned to face the other person in the room, who I had to imagine was the Head of the Netherworld, himself.

“Don’t try anything or I’ll shoot him,” I said in a steely voice.

The other man glanced at me with a laugh and held his hands up as if to say he wasn’t armed. But I knew better. He probably had a quiver of security agents at his disposal. If that were the case, I had already lost because even if I took Quillan out (something I wasn’t planning on) the Head of the Netherworld would still be alive and Knight would still die in the morning.

Somehow I had to trade Quillan for the man facing me.

“So you didn’t take that portal for Earth, did you?” the man asked with a smile as he took in my lack of clothing. “But it appears perhaps your blouse did?”

The man was an elf and he was handsome, though older, probably in his late fifties if I had to guess. His hair had once been a dark brown but was now speckled with grey to match his greying moustache. He wasn’t very tall—maybe five foot seven or so but he had beautiful green eyes that sparkled out at me. He bent over a wooden cane and when he walked, he did so with a limp.

I hated him.

“I guess you could say I escaped,” I answered in a tone that warned I wasn’t in the mood for long-winded conversations. How I was going to get him at the end of the barrel of the Op 7 was anyone’s guess. Even though he appeared to be unarmed, there was just something about the situation that told me not to believe it.

“Well, that actually works out quite well, doesn’t it, Quillan?” the man asked as he faced Quill with a smile.

Quill swallowed hard and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was at the end of my gun or he was nervous about the situation. “Dulcie, put the gun down.”

“Fuck you,” I seethed as I pushed it into his temple so he could know just how serious I was.

He took a deep breath. “All he has to do is touch a button on the end of that cane and you’ll be overwhelmed by security.”

“I will not press the button, young lady, if you agree to drop your gun,” the Head of the Netherworld said, offering me a sincere smile. “I doubt you would want to harm your friend either.”

“He is no friend of mine,” I spat back.

“Please, Dulcie,” Quill said, his shoulders sagging.

I faced the other man. “I want Knight Vander released and then I’ll agree to whatever you want.”

The man chuckled deeply. “Is that what this is about? You’ve risked your life for that of the Loki?” I nodded and he wore his surprise. “Interesting,” he finished.

“I want you to call Caressa Brandenburg right now and insist she release Knight and take him to the portal to Earth immediately,” I continued. “Once that’s done, I’ll let Quillan go.”

The man nodded but made no motion to do anything. “What do you say we make a little deal?”

“Deal?” I repeated as I narrowed my eyes.

The man nodded and took a seat on an expensive and uncomfortable looking black leather couch. “I was rather hoping Caressa would not send you back to Earth.”

“I thought she was ordered to?” I demanded.

“That was her plea bargain, not mine. I ordered you to be brought here but, alas, that woman seems to have a mind of her own.” He shook his head and there was an expression of fondness on his face as he thought about her. Good ol’ Caressa seemed to get underneath everyone’s skin.

“What do you want from me?” I insisted, not interested in hearing his smooth talk anymore.

“I want you to agree to work for me,” he said plainly.

“What?” I demanded as shock and anger strove to churn up my gut.

“I have lost my ears and eyes in the ANC,” he started as he glanced at Quillan with a frown. That meant Quillan had been his informant in the ANC all along and once Knight and I discovered Quill was double-dealing, the head had to find a new ANC man.

“No way,” I started.

“You do value the Loki’s life, do you not?”

I swallowed hard. The bastard had me.

The fucking bastard had me.

I didn’t respond so he continued. “Yes, Dulcie dear, I want you to work for me, take over Quillan’s position in the ANC.”

I felt tears stinging my eyes. “And you will allow Knight to live?”

The Head of the Netherworld laughed. “Yes, quite so, I’ll even put him back on duty and you both can work together. Of course, he could never know that you work for me; it must remain top secret. Anything else would mean the end of his life.”

I couldn’t respond. I felt like throwing up or collapsing into a mass of tears. I glanced at Quillan and realized I’d been beaten and dropped the gun. “How could you do this?” I demanded of him, even though I suspected he probably was pushed into a corner just as I’d been.

But Quillan never responded. Instead, he lowered his eyes and shrugged like he didn’t have an answer for me. Not that it mattered because the Head of the Netherworld was suddenly on his feet and approaching me.

“I have wanted you for a long time, Dulcie girl,” he said with a smile. “You are very good at your job.”

I didn’t want to correct him about the fact that I’d failed to apprehend Quillan … mainly because he already knew that.

“Do we have a deal then?” he asked.

I gulped as I thought about it. “You swear Knight’s life will be spared?”

He glanced at Quillan. “Once she says the word, you will call Caressa and instruct her to release the Loki and take him immediately to the portal.” Then he faced me again. “Well?”

I didn’t have any other option and even though I hated the thought of working for this bastard and selling my soul to the proverbial devil, I would if it meant Knight’s safety …

I didn’t say anything but nodded.

The man clapped his hands together and a huge smile spread over his lips. “We will be a family again.”

I faced him in surprise, wondering what the hell he was going on about but I never got the chance to speak.

“Ah, I haven’t introduced myself, dear,” he said as he extended his hand. “I’m Melchior O’Neil, your father.”

The End

Don’t miss Dulcie O’Neil in her next boxed set!

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Gypsy Magic

Poppy’s Potions #1

by H.P. Mallory & J.R. RAIN

(read on for a sample)

Chapter One

“That’s it?” Finn asked, turning to me in shock and doubt as we crunched to a stop in the driveway. “That’s our new house?”

I was quiet as I collected myself, both of us staring straight ahead, at the dilapidated monstrosity in front of us. “That’s our really, really, really old new house,” I sighed.

“Um…”

My sentiments exactly.

The gravel drive that led to the sprawling brick farmhouse had probably washed out sometime in the early bronze age, leaving it pitted and bumpy. A line of Aspen trees threw long slats of shade onto our path, with lurid stripes of scarlet showing between them. The sun was just beginning to set over the shady outskirts of Haven Hollow, and shadows were starting to pool in the meadow just beyond the trees.

It might have been scenic... if not for the house.

The thing was rundown as all hell and looked older than Keith Richards. The screen door was hanging off the hinges; some of the ginger breading that had once decorated the ornate porch was now lying in a miserable heap beside the house, looking like it felt sorry for itself. Yep, the porch hadn’t seen a paint job since… maybe ever; and I was fairly sure the entire thing was hosting a community of termites and had been for the better part of a century.

“Oh my God,” I muttered under my breath, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. This was what I got for buying the damn thing at auction. Then I did my best to force my usual megawatt smile and flashed it at my eleven-year-old son in the passenger seat. “This place will be just… great.”

Finn’s steely blue eyes stared back at me, flat and unimpressed. He’d bothered to look up from his Gameboy, which meant he was taking this whole thing very seriously. He hadn’t outright said it, but I could see the furious doubt stirring behind his eyes. I’d promised no more haunted houses.

“Mom…”

“We are going to love it here, Finn,” I responded, trying to convince myself, as well.

He looked at the house again. “It looks haunted.”

It really did.

“And what, exactly, does a haunted house look like?” I asked, going for casual skeptic, but failing.

Finn craned his neck at the three-story farmhouse with the wraparound white porch and pointed at it. “That.”

“What do we know about negative thoughts and comments?” I asked, not meaning to sound so much like my mother, but there it was.

“That thoughts are things and negativity only breeds more negativity,” Finn quoted, rolling his eyes.

“Right!” I pulled the keys from the ignition and opened my door. Finn shook his head, sighed, and opening his door, jumped down from the Wrangler. I exited as well, wrapping my arms around myself reflexively as the wind picked up, slicing through my parka like it wasn’t there, tossing my light blonde hair into my face. Oregon weather was going to take some… getting used to. But at least we were out of Los Angeles.

And ready to start over.

Finn watched me struggle to keep a smile with all the stern judgment he could muster, though I could see his mask cracking at the edges. His sweet, round little face rejected anger like oil on water. Even though he was nearly as tall as me, he still managed to look closer to ten than the almost twelve he was. And his braces didn’t help. Between the baby-fine blonde hair and the round cheeks that wouldn’t melt away until puberty, he looked more like a cherub than a preteen.

“Bought at auction, sight unseen,” I whispered and took a deep breath as I shook my head and wondered what I’d just gotten us into.

This was exactly what I’d been worrying about for the better part of two weeks—that the house would be in this level of disrepair. But, that’s what I got when I bought a house at auction. Site unseen.

I followed Finn up the circular driveway to the front entry. The house stood in the center of the ‘U’ section of the driveway and greeted onlookers with what was once an impressive porch and a wide set of stairs that led to the front door and an immense bay window. To the left of the house was a large barn and to the right, a storage shed that was leaning so badly on one side, I was fairly sure the roof had caved in.

Great.

The grim black sign with gold calligraphy that spelled Hallowed Realty rattled on its chains as we approached. The only thing that didn’t look like it needed to be immediately torn down was the immense apple tree right beside the front porch. The thing was almost as tall as the house and covered in bright red and orange leaves and huge, round green and red apples. If we were lucky, they’d be Honeycrisp apples.

“Look, Finn, an apple tree! That means plenty of pies!”

He just looked at me and frowned, as if to let me know he was still unimpressed. So, I took a deep breath and faced the house again.

Ah, yes, the house.

Le Sigh.

Face it with a smile, that’s what my mother would say. I’d always taken that mantra to heart. Of course, my father always said smiling at a turd didn’t make it magically transform into a triple fudge brownie.

This house definitely wasn’t a triple fudge brownie.

“Let’s unlock the front door and look inside,” I said brightly.

“Let’s hope we don’t fall through the stairs on our way up,” Finn grumbled.

I walked just in front of him, not only to unlock the door, but to be the unlucky canary in case the coal mine collapsed. The door opened with a creaking sound, not unlike the cackling of a witch. A rancid odor wafted out, surrounding us in its putrid embrace. I made some sort of inarticulate sound just before gagging.

Finn waltzed into the wide foyer ahead of me, unperturbed by the smell. As a boy prone to an array of them himself, he’d probably been inoculated to the worst nature could throw at him. He craned his neck as he took in the massively high ceiling.

“What the hell died in here?” he then asked as he turned to face me and hid his nose and mouth inside his shirt.

“Language,” I coughed, eyebrows drawn together in disapproval. I couldn’t manage to wrestle the smell from the back of my throat.

I could taste it. God, what was that?

“Hell isn’t a bad word, Mom.”

“It’s not a nice word either.”

“Ah, whatever,” he said and then did a three-sixty as he started laughing. “Wow, you really did it this time.”

“What?” I asked, taking in the expanse of ancient brick walls, and even older planked wood flooring that appeared to be rotting in some places and sagging in others. “It’s… charming.”

“That’s not the word I’d use for it. Maybe ‘old’, ‘crappy’ or… seriously, Mom, what’s that smell?”

“That’s the smell of my soon to be empty bank account.”

All joking aside, the smell was probably an animal or several that had died during the many years this place sat empty. Lord knew how hard it was going to be to remove it.

“This place is totally haunted,” Finn said, shaking his head as he took a deep breath and then released it.

“Oh, come on. Not every old house is haunted!” Although, I wasn’t convinced he was wrong. Finn had the same Gypsy Traveller blood I did, but he didn’t possess the same affinity towards magic. No one knew why, but Y chromosomes just seemed to dampen magic. Witches, gypsy women, mediums, fae… all of us were almost always female.

There was something here though... I could feel it. Cold brushed across the fine bones of my face, sank into every joint and made them throb painfully. Or maybe that was just the reality of being in your early forties in an Oregon autumn. Yeah, I’d go with that for now. I really didn’t have the patience to deal with more ghosts.

Besides, there was no going back now. So, we might as well make the best of it.

“Do you want to check out the rest of the house and pick out your bedroom?” I asked, trying to maintain some level of enthusiasm.

Finn looked up the staircase and swallowed hard. “Will you come with me?”

“Sure.”

As we ascended, I could spy water damage on the walls. At the far end of the hall, the bare bones of the house showed pale in the fading light. The drywall was gone and whatever pipes had once resided within had been gutted.

Great...

My only consolation was that between the sale of the house in Los Angeles and the passing of Great Aunt Margaret, I had enough money to remodel this place and open my shop, if I approached both carefully.

Luckily, I’d bought this house for next to nothing, owing to the fact that the bank wanted it off their books. And I’d walked away with a hefty amount of cash from my inheritance. I could break even if I did this right. Heck, if my new ‘holistic medicine’ shop took off, I might actually be ahead.

I was busy trying to break my teeth on a smile as I noted cracks, uneven floors, missing fixtures and more. Finn trailed his fingers through cobwebs and dust, wiping both away on his blue and black Spock t-shirt that said ‘Trek yourself before you wreck yourself’.

“This room is too small,” Finn said as he walked into the first room on our right. I glanced inside and figured it might make a nice office.

An office I would be putting to use as soon as I could open my store. I’d already found the perfect location—a smallish storefront in the middle of the busiest street in town (which wasn’t very busy considering the population of Haven Hollow was only 680. Well, 682 now). The potential store was the only reason Finn and I had moved to Haven Hollow. Because there weren’t any witches laying claim to this tiny town.

I knocked on a peeling wood banister immediately after the thought and even crossed my fingers.

No witches. Please, please, please.

Witches were territorial and they could make your life hell if they so chose. I never wanted to cross one, if I could help it.

The next room was larger than the first and featured a giant window that revealed a lovely view of the street below and acres of open land beyond. Our nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile away.

“This isn’t bad,” I said as we walked out of the room and back into the hallway. I was immediately enveloped by cold and goosebumps popped along my arms.

Nothing other than cold weather and your aging bones. Cold weather and aging bones...

“Wait… There are only four bedrooms up here?” Finn asked as he counted the rooms off the hallway on his fingers. He didn’t seem to notice the drafty hallway, so I didn’t say anything. Yep, I needed to whip up a cleansing potion and then a consecration potion… post haste.

“Right, the fifth bedroom is downstairs… the guest bedroom.”

He nodded. “I want my room to be right next to yours.”

“Okay, well I think this is the master,” I said as we entered the last room.

It was really beautiful with the high ceilings and crown molding. Well, beautiful if you could ignore the dust and canopy of spider webs. Numerous windows overlooked the street below and the apple orchard off to the right. I walked into the master bathroom and turned around, taking in the view through one window, which showed off the orchard again while the east-facing window revealed a wide expanse of… cemetery?

Oh, no.

Finn was still in the bedroom as I stared out the window, and cursed my bad luck. A cemetery? Bordering the back yard? I walked to the window and yanked it up, the old paint on the wood breaking away in my hands. But, I wasn’t concerned with it, at the moment. Instead, I leaned out to get a better look at the overgrown and ratty plot of land that was home to at least twenty headstones. As I studied it, I watched a woman emerge from behind a copse of trees. She walked between the tombstones and paused before one, kneeling down. The setting sun behind her obscured most of her, bathing her in bright yellow light, making it difficult to see.

“Hey, Mom, did you see this little closet in here?” Finn called out. I turned to look at him, where he stood at the far end of the bedroom.

“Just a second,” I said and turned back to face the woman in the graveyard. But, when I looked again, she was gone. Yet… there was something still there. Something that appeared dark in the setting sun, almost clouded by a shadowed mist. Regardless, it was much larger than a human and almost misshapen. It moved quickly, but its gait was lopsided and strange. The rich yellow light of the dying sun continued to play tricks with my eyes, so much so, that I thought I was looking at something with huge antlers and long forearms that dragged along the ground as it moved between the stones. I leaned out the window a bit more, trying to get a better visual.

Is it a deer? I asked myself.

Come on… it’s way too large to be a deer! Plus, it’s walking upright. Sort of.

“This is a pretty big bathroom, Mom,” Finn said from right behind me. I immediately pulled back and slammed my head into the wooden window frame as I turned to face him, being careful to block the view beyond the window.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked, but I couldn’t answer. I was too worried about what he might see behind me.

I turned around and looked back at the cemetery, but the creature was gone. So was the woman. And the setting sun was throwing all sorts of shadows across the tombstones, which littered the ground like uneven, rotted teeth.

It wasn’t real, I told myself. Just a trick of the light and shadows. You had to be imagining it because… monsters aren’t real.

“What are you looking at?” Finn asked. I turned around as he focused on the view behind me. “Um,” he started. “What’s that?” He pointed out the window, and I was suddenly afraid the thing had resurfaced.

I swallowed hard and looked out at the empty graveyard, relieved when only the stray tombstones met my eyes. “A cemetery?”

“Why didn’t you tell me the house was sitting on a cemetery?” he demanded, his voice growing louder as he threw his hands on his hips and glared at me. One thing he’d been adamant about was that we move to a house with no ghosts.

“Because I didn’t know it was sitting on a cemetery,” I started. “The bank left that little, inconvenient detail out. And so did Google Maps.”

“Moooom, this place is totally haunted,” Finn said as he shook his head. “It’s going to be just like our last house which means… I don’t want to live here!”

“Just because there’s a cemetery at least a football field’s length away doesn’t mean the house is haunted!”

I only hoped I was right.

Chapter Two

Finn and I piled into the Jeep after locking up the house.

Why even bother locking it? I chided myself. Are you afraid another rodent is going to break in and die, adding to that horrible smell?

I didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, I just looked at the three-story jalopy and tried to keep the tears back.

“Mom? You okay?” Finn asked as he turned to look at me.

I smiled back at him and then I inhaled deeply and exhaled… just as deeply. “What did I do?”

He looked back at the house and frowned before turning to face me again. Then he reached out and patted my hand, where it rested on the shifter. “Maybe this is one of those blessings wearing costumes?”

It took me a second to realize what he was trying to say. “You mean a blessing in disguise?”

Finn nodded, his little cherubic face brightening into a smile. “Yeah, that.”

I looked at the house again. “Any blessings that come into contact with this house will run away with their tails between their legs.”

Finn laughed. I tried to, but the sound came out weak and anemic. “There’s just…” I continued, “so much work to do and I don’t even… I don’t even know where to start.”

“You always tell me to look at the bright side of everything, right Mom?” Finn asked as I turned to look at him again and he reached over and wrapped his skinny arms around me. I suddenly felt like the luckiest woman in the whole world.

“All that matters is that we have each other,” Finn continued. “And together, we can take on anything, right Mom?”

I batted the tears away. Sometimes he just knew exactly the right thing to say. “Right, buddy,” I said with a smile that extended all the way down to my soul.

I took another big breath, patted the top of his head and forced myself to get back in control. Finn was right—we had this. I faced forward and turned on the engine. Then I looked at my son and his big blue eyes and his shining smile. “Thanks for the pep talk, nibbles.”

I was only allowed to call Finn one of the variety of nicknames I had for him (‘nibbles’, ‘bubbles’, ‘cutie pie’ and ‘monkey’) when we were alone.

“Welcome, Mom.”

I nodded, feeling the strength to persevere returning to me with each breath I took. “Are you ready to head to the hotel now?”

“Can we order room service?” he asked, his grin widening so his braces gleamed in the low light.

“We sure can,” I answered as I thought about the world of good it was going to do me to get a good night’s sleep.

As we drove down the bumpy driveway and the headlights reflected off the tree-trunks, my mind started to drift back to the woman in the graveyard and then the… thing. As much as I tried to convince myself that the creature (and possibly even the woman) had been nothing more than a trick of the fading light combined with my overactive imagination, I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it.

I could still see the glint of sunlight off the thing’s antlers, and I could remember the way it trailed long claw-like fingernails along the tops of the tombstones, as it limped forward, all hunched over.

What are you saying then? I asked myself. That monsters are real?

No, I wasn’t saying that. I knew enough to know monsters weren’t real. Yes, magic was real, but magic was something that characterized humans—humans like gypsies and witches. I’d lived my life walking the line between reality and what others perceived to be surreality and never once had I come across anything mythical or fantastical.

Then why can’t you shake the image of that thing you think you saw in the graveyard?

It just… I could see it! There was something there!

If that were the case, don’t you think the woman would have screamed? Or would have called for help or ran off? You would have heard something!

True. Unless…

Unless the woman and the creature were one and the same…

***

An hour later, we’d checked into the Haven Hollow Inn, which was a bed and breakfast dating to the early 1900s. It was a quaint, two story Victorian, painted green with white gingerbreading. Inside, it was overstuffed with antique furniture and ancient rugs. And there were so many knick-knacks covering every possible surface, my claustrophobia kicked in double-time. There was also a very unwelcoming cat that sat in the window and glared at you every time you made the mistake of looking at him. His name was, unfittingly, ‘Happy’.

Luckily, we were still in time for dinner and Ethel, the elderly woman who owned and ran the place, was only too happy to make us whatever we wanted. Finn, being the opportunistic child he was, immediately requested pancakes with extra butter and two scrambled eggs, but no bacon.

No, it wasn’t room service, but Finn seemed okay with the fact that he was getting breakfast for dinner.

“And why don’t you like bacon, dear?” Ethel asked as she served us at the enormous oak table. Apparently, we were the only customers Ethel had this week.

“Because Piggy is my best friend and he’s a pig,” Finn answered as he held up his pink stuffed-animal pig, something he’d had since he was a baby. Yes, he was probably too old to still be so attached to the thing, but Piggy had helped him get through many episodes with a poltergeist at our last house, so I wasn’t about to take Piggy away now.

“Well, he’s a very handsome pig,” Ethel said as she handed me my requested salad and then studied Finn for a few seconds. “And if it’s okay with your mama, I think Piggy would love some of Aunt Ethel’s famous apple pie!”

I smiled up at the kind old woman and nodded. “It’s okay with me as long as I get a bite…”

Ethel laughed and her large stomach rumbled along with her. Then she disappeared into the kitchen as Finn dove into his pancakes. A few minutes later, Ethel reemerged with two heaping plates of apple pie à la mode.

And there goes my diet… Again.

Sheesh, this last ten pounds was becoming a permanent fixture. Not that it really mattered because there weren’t any men in my life, aside from my son. And I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

After finishing up dinner, we thanked Ethel and helped clear our plates, regardless of her protestations. Finn was especially pleased when Ethel produced a tiny sweater she’d knitted for Happy but, unsurprisingly, Happy wasn’t very keen on it. Turned out, it was the perfect size for Piggy. And, thus, the overstuffed, pink pig inherited Happy’s sweater.

Once we said goodnight, we retired to our room upstairs. As soon as I unlocked the door, my phone rang, the caller ID revealing it was my mother.

“We just got your message, sweetie,” Mom started as soon as I answered. “And we just think it’s a great idea!” she enthused.

Fiona Morton’s voice held what many of the older gentlemen in our hometown would have considered a sexy amount of rasp. She’d smoked from the time she was sixteen, quitting cold turkey when she discovered she was pregnant with me. Second hardest thing she’d ever done, as she continuously reminded me.

I held the phone away from my mouth and looked at Finn as I whispered, “You need to go get in the shower and brush your teeth and then it’s bed!”

“Mom! I had a shower yesterday!”

“How are you both settling in?” Mom asked.

“Just a second,” I answered and then faced my stinky child again. “Right, and you have to shower every day!”

“Why? I put on deodorant!”

“I don’t care! Now, off you go!”

“Jeez,” Finn grumbled, but he headed for the bathroom, all the same.

“Hi, Mom,” I started again. “Everything is going good, so far.”

I didn’t want to tell her about the condition of the house. I just… didn’t have the energy. Instead, I sat down at the desk in the far end of the crowded room and pulled out a small notepad from one of the drawers.

“… just can’t wait to see pictures and we want to know all about the town,” Mom continued. I was only half-paying attention to the conversation. Most of my concentration was on the list of to-do items I was currently working on.

“I’ve been telling you to open a store for how long now?” she asked.

“Ten years,” I answered, trying to restrain a gusty sigh.

“And you never listen to your mother. Didn’t I tell you this would be a great idea? Reggie, tell your daughter she’s going to do great!”

On the other end of the line, I could make out a soft grunt that was dad-speak for ‘the game’s on—leave me in peace, woman.’

“Dad thinks it’s a really great idea, sweetie,” Mom confirmed. “Oh! And that gout potion I whipped up has your father back on his feet again! Adding the extra ginger root to GG’s recipe was exactly what it needed. Good thing I still have the knack!”

GG was short for ‘Great-Grandma’ and GG was my mom’s mother, who was still alive and sly as an old fox.

But, back to Dad… I was fairly sure losing twenty pounds by laying off beer and pizza had more to do with his recovery than GG’s home remedies. But hey, I needed the pep talk and it was nice to know Mom believed in me. At least someone did.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And once you’re all settled in, you can start thinking about finding the right man?”

“Mom…”

“Eventually you’re going to want a partner, Holly. You’re still young… ish and you don’t want what happened with Jeremy to stop you from dating again.”

“I just need some time, Mom.”

“Have you used that Match.com subscription I got you for your birthday?”

No, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t in any hurry to start now. “Not yet.”

“Well, don’t forget. Your future husband could be on it, just waiting for you.”

Yeah. Right.

“I won’t forget.”

Dating was a sensitive subject for me, in general. And it always had been. I wasn’t sure if I’d been in love with Finn’s father. Not that it really mattered anyway, because as soon as he’d found out I was pregnant, he’d split like a worn-down inseam. I’d always grown up with the notion that it took two to parent so I’d shopped for father figures... and found Dylan the drunk, Charlie the cheap, Simon the serial philanderer, and Theodore the thief. And then there was Jeremy, the crowning glory.

After getting out of that debacle, I’d decided to stay out of the dating pool. But telling Mom as much would just upset her. Maybe I’d at least set up my profile—just to make her happy. Dating at forty-three wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to. Ahem… understatement of the century.

“I’ll look tonight,” I promised.

“Okay, love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

“Say hi to Finn for us.”

“I will.”

She tried to squeeze in another piece of advice before the phone clicked. Whoops. I was too tired to call back and there was still a lot left to do. I needed to write a list of everything that needed fixing at the house, and I needed to make a list of the materials I’d need to construct the shelves for my store. As well as watch a YouTube video on how to make shelves. Sigh.

Not to mention that tomorrow was a really big day! Finn and I would be waking up early in order to meet the moving truck which was due to arrive in the morning.

Finn stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his middle. Then he reached inside his suitcase and pulled out his Christmas pajamas which were a size too small. He pulled them up his long, skinny legs and then jumped on his twin size bed, which was just beside mine. Then he clicked on the TV, and immediately started laughing at Spongebob Squarepants who trilled his intensely irritating laugh into the interior of the room.

“Gran’s got a point, Mom,” Finn said, from where he was nearly lost among the numerous pillows on his bed.

“Gran’s got what point?”

“That you can’t let your relationship with Jeremy leave a bad taste in your mouth. There are still good guys out there.”

“I have yet to meet them,” I grumbled.

“Well… now you have probability on your side.”

I smiled. I didn’t even know the word ‘probability’ was in his vocab. “Oh, and how’s that?”

Finn shrugged. “L.A. has a large pool of douchebags. Haven Hollow, not so much.”

“Language,” I snapped.

He shrugged again. “My point still stands.”

“Because small town means fewer jerks?”

“Yep,” he answered and then looked over at me. “I have a good feeling about this place.”

***

I rarely dream and when I do, it’s usually because I’ve decided I need to.

And tonight, I was hoping for prophetic dreams—something from the Universe to help guide me on my path. Something to tell me whether I was making a mistake with this house, whether I should put it up for sale and buy something more… easily managed.

Everyone has a third eye, but almost no one uses theirs. For regular folks, it normally takes drugs, religion, or near-death experiences to find a way to see through to the other side. Even my own family had lost the knack. GG was the only one who regularly peeked beyond the veil to the beyond. For the rest of us, there was Dreamtime Oil: Carnation, Sandalwood, Vanilla and a kick of good ol’ fashioned gypsy magic.

I found myself so completely stressed out by the prospect of the house, I needed the distraction of dreams. And Dreamtime Oil was a great prescription for creative and restful sleep. I’d come up with some of my best ideas while using the oil. All the same, you had to be careful about overdoing it—meaning, you couldn’t use it too often, because it was quite a strain on your subconscious mind. Once a month and you were good to go. GG had learned that the hard way…

I plugged in the diffuser just after bath time. Finn grumbled about the smell, but was almost immediately pacified by the offer to watch one more episode of Spongebob instead of having to go to sleep.

As for me, I expected to lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’d dragged us both into. But when my head hit the pillow and I inhaled the scent of the oil, my eyelids slammed down like heavy steel shutters.

And the dream began almost instantly.

Ordinarily, Dreamtime Oil took me to my happy places: the scenic meadow that lay a mile from GG’s sprawling country home in Washington State. Sometimes I’d end up sitting on the teakwood patio of a friend’s vacation home in Belize, inhaling briny air, watching the crystalline blue waves roll in the early morning sun.

So, it was something of a shock to find my dream self in a darkened room I didn’t recognize, staring at a shadowy figure I didn’t know. A small shaft of moonlight trickled out from between a pair of green gingham curtains. A woman’s foot was illuminated, and I watched as she curled her painted toes into the carpet in apparent agitation.

I was standing close enough to feel the baby-fine strands of the woman’s hair kiss my face. That was when I realized I was locked into the woman, like a shadow moving just behind her. Not quite a part of her, but existing just on her periphery.

When she drifted, ghost-like, through the shaft of moonlight, I was forced onward, just behind her. And I could feel something—something heavy. Rage saturating the air. My mouth burned, like there was a habanero stuck halfway down my throat. I felt like I could spit pure flame.

But this wasn’t my anger. It was hers.

If I strained, I could actually catch the tenor of her thoughts. They popped like furious bubbles inside my head. As if her anger was my own.

He was upstairs. I could smell him up there.

The odious little man always wore too much cologne. He thought he was so much better than me...

The second the thought burst into my head, I strained to get loose of the dream because it was a type of dream you never wanted to have—one of those nightmares that threatened to submerge you, to take you along for the ride, whether you wanted to go or not.

I tried to separate myself from the woman, tried to wake myself up, but no matter how hard I strained, I couldn’t command my sleeping mind. Usually, I was good at this—usually I had control over my dreaming self—I’d mastered the art of lucid dreaming, but tonight that knowledge seemed far away.

I’d show him he wasn’t any better than me! The thoughts continued to rage. And if I didn’t get what I wanted, he would be the one to suffer…

These weren’t my thoughts, and I wanted no part of them. But whatever the unseen force that had tugged my brain into this nightmare scenario, it wasn’t letting me escape so easily. Every time I tried to divorce myself, tried to take control of the dream, and wake myself up, I only managed to find my dream self right back where I just was, joined to this woman.

She tiptoed down a corridor, and I was forced to follow her. More moonlight spilled into the hallway, so bright I had to blink against it. The door at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar, and I could smell the scent of a man’s cologne, heavy and…

Cheap.

The woman kept moving forward in that eerie, ghostlike fashion.

When we reached the room, there was someone else in it. I couldn’t make out the figure ahead of me, though I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision. Wind picked up outside and the house shifted and groaned, as restless as I felt. The creak of the wooden floorboards beneath my feet could barely be heard over the racket of the tree branches scraping against the windows and the howling of the wind.

I could just make out the lumpy shapes of a couch and armchair nearby. My hand braced the wall, and awareness dawned on me that this was a living room.

Now things were going to change. Now he was going to realize he didn’t have the final say.

Stop! I told myself, but it was as though my own voice didn’t exist. All I could hear was this woman’s angry and polluted thoughts.

He’d tell me what I wanted to know, or he’d get exactly what he deserved.

I hit the threshold of the door and could go no further. I could only watch from afar as the woman’s body separated from mine and I was no longer her shadow. As she moved forward, she disappeared into the darkness of the room, disappeared into the pitch black.

There was a flash of lightning that illuminated the darkness and in it, I saw a lopsided shadow against the far wall. The shadow was stooped over the couch, where someone sat with his head hanging back, like he’d fallen asleep watching TV. And the shadow was enormous, taking up the majority of the wall, looming over the man like some kind of monster.

“Time to wake up,” the creature grunted in a deep and gravelly voice.

Even though the shadow creature appeared almost like an animal, it stood upright and its limbs trailed to the floor, its arms longer than its legs. Long and spiked shapes jutted, antler-like, from either side of its skull.

The man opened his eyes and let out an ear-splitting shriek.

A shriek I echoed as I bolted upright in bed.

I threw a hand over my mouth to muffle my cry, so I wouldn’t wake Finn who was sound asleep in the bed next to mine.

It was just a dream, I tried to calm myself, but my heart was throwing itself against my ribs and my breathing was coming in quick pants.

It was just…

A figment of your imagination!

True, but…

No, buts…

It’s just… that was the same monster I saw in the graveyard, I finally finished the thought.

I took a deep breath at the memory of the woman walking through the gravestones and then the shadowy creature that appeared moments later.

And then I remembered that monsters weren’t real and that the light of the dying sun had simply been playing tricks on my eyes.

Right and somehow you channeled whatever you thought you saw in the graveyard and it appeared in your dream, owing to your hyperactive imagination.

That made sense.

Magic was real, yes, but no one in my family had ever mentioned monsters and owing to the fact that we possessed magic, if monsters were real, I would have known about them.

The things that did exist—witches, gypsies, ghosts, the fae—they were all, ultimately, human. Ghosts had been people. Witches, fae and gypsies still were human—we just possessed magic.

And monsters weren’t human.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I lay back down, taking a deep breath and trying to calm myself.

Gypsy Magic

is available at:

Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK

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About the Author:

H. P. Mallory is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author who started as a self-published author.

She lives in Southern California with her son and two cranky cats, where she’s at work on her next book.

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