To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  Declan laughed softly, almost self-consciously. Then just as suddenly all emotion fled from his face, a wooden cool expression settling over his features. “You never ask anyone to play United Nations with you. Why me?” Suspicion edged with disappointment laced his voice.

  Darcy heaved a small sigh. “My, you’re a prickly thing, aren’t you?” She turned her back to re-seat the South American delegate in the right spot. “Excuse me for thinking that someone who uses the word esoteric in a sentence might prove of some use in the Mutant Genetic versus Cyborg peace talks.” She gave him her best death glare, remembering to narrow her eyes slightly for optimum effect.

  Declan surprised her once again by laughing, in seemingly genuine amusement at her expression.

  Lush long eyelashes fluttered, dark violet eyes remained fixed upon the intense black-haired girl. Interest, and something else sparkling in those depths… not just amusement but some kind of sudden recognition.

  In the distance one of the adults called out that lunch was ready and the kids should come and get it.

  Darcy sighed, another interruption. “We should get some lunch before the others descend.”

  “I have to go.” Declan looked back into the shaded woodlands directly behind him. “I’ll get something later.”

  “Okay. Well, hopefully I’ll see you around soon.”

  “I think you will.” Declan dimpled. “Maybe at school… thanks for the advice on shields.”

  Darcy leaned over to place the tanned, flawless and blonde North American Cyborg Barbie in the cage all the other delegates insisted she inhabit during session. As she did so, Darcy felt something, a breeze… the lightest of touches along the back of her neck.

  “Did you…” She looked around, Declan was gone. Reaching up she touched her fingers to the back of her neck, there was nothing there to feel. Weird.

  She dismissed the not-there touch and the mysterious boy who hid in the shadows at family parties and made a beeline for the buffet of food waiting, determined to get there before her gluttonous brothers scoffed it all down.

  Chapter One

  The heart wrenching sobs were like nails down a blackboard. Grrr, Darcy was no stranger to listening to people weep. Usually though, they were pleading with her to spare their lives at the same time. This weep-fest however, had nothing to do with her.

  Well, not nothing. She hadn’t caused it. But unfortunately, because of her job as the Southern Sanctuary Special Liaison, she did have to listen to it.

  She bit back on both a sigh and the urge to whip out a knife and bring about a fast end to the crying jag. Nope, this girl wasn’t a threat to the Sanctuary. Though if she kept up the sobbing for much longer, all bets were off. Darcy only had so much patience. And according to many, that level was a thin veneer.

  Pity the Forest Sprite didn’t realise how precarious her existence was and shut off the waterworks. Darcy had a seriously devious mind. Clinically diagnosed as a sociopath with well-intentioned homicidal tendencies. She could easily find a way to dispose of the weeping girl and make it look like a complete accident. Only those who knew her well would question the findings. And unfortunately for her, everyone in the Southern Sanctuary did know her all too well. Damn.

  Forest Sprite. Darcy fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ever since Great-Aunt Alma, the devious family matchmaker, had returned to the fold, a host of strangers had begun turning up at the Southern Sanctuary. Sure, the High Council could call it tourism. But that was crap. Darcy knew gut deep that her Great-Aunt was pulling on threads and setting up all the singletons as targets for her matchmaking magic.

  Despite Darcy’s grumbling, many in the community were happy with the influx of tourists. The Hidden Cove Holiday and Camping Grounds were booked solid. A number of relatives had discovered success through offering Airbnb accommodation. And two of the Great-Great-Aunts were at war regarding whose bed and breakfast was considered the most exclusive on the supernatural-only version of Tripadvisor.

  “We… we had this instant connection… you know?”

  What? Right, and the sobbing continued. Darcy pushed the tissues an inch closer to the beautiful girl. There was a word inked on the side of the tissue box in Sanskrit. Nell, her older sister, had put it there. Empathy. It was a reminder, when the tissues were needed, Darcy should fake empathy. She considered her limited options and went with her level three expression of concern, making a soothing, nonsensical noise intended to put people at ease. “Nhuhnnn.”

  The Sprite’s head shot up, her eyes darting around the cavernous office. Only the large desk in the middle of the room was completely free of mess. Every other surface, the floor included, was crowded with pile upon pile of books, folders, manuscripts, scrolls, pamphlets, leaflets and tracts. The Sprite was clearly searching for the sudden threat.

  Crap, note to self, work on empathy noise number three.

  “He said… he loved… me.”

  Seriously, even crying, how did this woman manage to look so damn gorgeous still? They were all like that, the girls who’d wandered into her office over the last seven years. Sobbing. Distraught. Broken-hearted. Stunningly beautiful, every last one of them.

  Darcy was pretty sure that as soon as any of her relatives saw a sobbing, gorgeous girl anywhere in the Sanctuary, they directed them immediately to the Special Liaison’s office for Darcy to deal with. That was her family, so bloody helpful it hurt.

  “Really? He said he loved you?” That was a new one. Darcy hadn’t thought the ‘L’ word was in his vocab. He’d never said it to any of the other bodacious babes.

  The girl looked over at Darcy, green-blue eyes flooding with fresh tears. Bee stung mouth trembling. The girl’s dark sable hair, with the faintest tinge of green running through it, flowed down over her practically bare shoulders. It was the middle of Spring and the girl was wearing a blue tank top and denim daisy duke shorts that were working extra hard to contain all of her of kerb appeal.

  The Sprite grabbed another tissue, blew her nose loudly, somehow still managing to look gorgeous. “Well… no, he didn’t say it out loud. But I could tell, it was in his eyes.”

  “Sure.” Darcy bobbed her head. Kicking out her patent leather red thigh-high boots and checking them for scuffs or marks.

  “It’s just that he hasn’t called me.”

  “Ahuh.” Darcy made an absent mark in the ‘didn’t call me’ box.

  “It’s been a day already and men, they always call me.” Fresh sobs erupted. The Sprite’s bodacious bosom heaving and jiggling.

  Sandi? Callie? Raquel? What was the Sprite’s name again? Darcy glanced at the number on the top of the file she’d created as soon as the tear-stained nymphette had walked through her office door. Right, Miss 427… seriously, four hundred and twenty-seven? It was mind bogglingly. And annoying. And she was getting off topic, watching as Miss 427 straightened her shoulders and thrust out her assets, effectively showcasing to Darcy the reason why men always called this girl.

  Darcy fought hard the urge to roll up one of the manuscripts perched on a precarious pile next to her and swat the girl on the nose. She wasn’t blind, the Sprite was stacked. No one needed to be reminded of that fact. “So… it’s been a day since your date and he hasn’t called?”

  “Um, it wasn’t a date exactly.” The Forest Sprite shifted her tiny yet well-proportioned ass in the chair she’d forced Darcy to clear off when she’d initially burst into the office, like some tragic movie heroine. One who wore a too tight top and shorts so tiny her ass cheeks were visible.

  “So there was no date?” Darcy checked off another box as 427 reluctantly nodded.

  “Not yet, but there will be.”

  “Of course.” Darcy answered automatically. The one thing she’d learnt after four-hundred and twenty-six earlier go rounds, always fake being upbeat and positive. Any negative response on her part only brought on fresh floods of tears and prolonged the agony. “How long, exactly, have you and he been… friends?”

 
“A day. I can show you precisely where we met, if that would help?”

  “No, that’s fine. Okay, I’m getting a clearer picture now. So you bumped into him in the…?”

  “Forest.” 427’s face lit up in memory, her green-blue eyes turning dreamy, her lips widening into a smile. “I was communing with the trees and he just appeared. It was like he was sent to me by the Ancients, clearly meant to be my mate.”

  “Ahuh.” Darcy checked off two more boxes. “So he was sent to you by your Ancients and he just appeared out of thin air, did he?”

  “Umm, not thin air…no.”

  Darcy continued to stare at 427, waiting for her to elaborate. Her icy clear blue gaze causing the Forest Sprite to shift uneasily, wondering for the first time if she hadn’t made a dreadful mistake in coming here.

  “He… he was out jogging.”

  “Of course he was.” Darcy checked another box. “So you and he talked?”

  “Not as such… like I said, he was jogging.”

  “He didn’t stop?” A fine dark eyebrow quirked upwards momentarily.

  “No.” 427 blushed becomingly. “So I chased him.”

  Darcy bit down on the inside of her cheek, she would not laugh… she would not laugh. “Okay, so you chased him, then what?”

  “And that’s when I gave him my phone number and he smiled at me. Right at me.” A braying deep sob followed. “Why hasn’t he called me?”

  “Did he say he would?” Darcy’s pen was poised over the next checkbox.

  “Errr… he never actually spoke to me. But we like, totally connected… with just our eyes.” Green-blue orbs shimmering with unshed tears suddenly widened. “Do you think he lost my number?”

  Darcy shrugged noncommittally. She didn’t want to get 427’s hopes up. It was in the realm of possibility that the phone number had been lost. But in her experience these things rarely ended how the bodacious babe imagined they would.

  “Maybe if you could just give me his number, I could call him… or even better, his address?”

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Not after the fourth embarrassing trespassing incident. The police blotter noting that on all four occasions the young woman in question had been arrested completely naked.

  The police department had quickly issued a Sanctuary wide ban regarding handing out any information of a personal nature in regards to Him.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Darcy wrote one brief note at the bottom of the page, under the comments section. “What I can do, is finish writing up this complaint. And all you need to do is sign it and I will lodge it with our local judicial office.”

  The Sprite sucked in one last shuddering breath, her tears finally beginning to dry up. “Complaint?”

  “Yes.” Darcy turned the clipboard around and tapped the pen against the bottom of the page. “If you could just sign here.”

  “But… but I don’t want to get him in trouble.” A look of consternation crossed 427’s beautiful, tear stained face. “I just want to date him.”

  “You aren’t prepared to sign the complaint?” Shocking, not.

  “No. I don’t want to lodge a complaint.” The tears were well and truly dried up now.

  Darcy suppressed a sigh, looking down at the meticulously filled out document in her lap. What a waste of time. “Well, I’m afraid there isn’t much else I can do.” She picked up the large box of tissues and strode around the humungous desk. Yanking open a drawer she slapped the unsigned complaint down on top of the other four-hundred and twenty-six unsigned complaints.

  427 stood up, her incredibly long legs looking tanned and toned, despite the gloomy lighting. “Um… I was wondering if you would at least… tell me his name?”

  Darcy had many, many names for Him. Very few of which were appropriate in polite company. Shaking her head in feigned reluctance she attempted to look sad by thinking about the four-hundred and twenty-seven unsigned complaints in her desk drawer.

  The Forest Sprite turned very pale all of a sudden and began backing warily out of Darcy’s office.

  Damn, she was getting sad mixed up with angry again. Oh, well, 427… Sybbie, that was her name, was leaving. Finally.

  Shit, there was something she was forgetting. Think. Oh, the script the High Council had insisted she memorize. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in the Southern Sanctuary.” Darcy grit her teeth together and forced a smile.

  Sybbie shuddered in terror at the sight of that smile, continuing to back out of the office, keeping her pace steady, ensuring she made no sudden moves. Once the tears had ceased she’d finally become conscious of how much danger she was in… alone in this office with the woman with the serial killer ice blue eyes.

  Darcy heaved a relieved sigh as the door slammed and she was blissfully alone. By the time she’d seated herself on top of her immaculately clean and empty desk, the two chairs that had just been in use were magically stacked high with an assortment of books, folders and files once more.

  Back to business. Leaning over she pressed a finger down on what looked like a knot of wood in the centre of the pristine surface of her massive desk. A panel slid back and a screen popped up.

  Hmmm, Darcy’s eyes flicked down over her to-do list. The listings continuously changed and were regularly updated, usually thanks to Cousin Maureen, who operated as dispatcher at the Police Station. Maureen funnelled work more appropriate for the Southern Sanctuary Special Liaison to handle Darcy’s way. But others in the community also had access to the list. Elijah, who headed up the large band of family Enforcers. And every member of the High Council, which unfortunately included her mother, Sarah.

  Thankfully, the system was coded to automatically prioritise the incoming assignments. So Darcy’s gaze just went to the top three items on today’s list. Number one, visit the two newest additions to the Sanctuary. What could be wrong with two babies that they needed the attention of the Liaison?

  According to the very active and accurate local grapevine, both new mothers were doing fine. Okay, so they weren’t that new anymore. The babies, born within a day of one another, although technically only minutes apart but there was the international dateline to take into account – now had to be about the two month mark, age wise.

  Darcy was gut deep sure this item was on her to-do list purely as a result of her mother’s handiwork. The woman still thought, despite twenty-seven years of contrary evidence, that she could manipulate Darcy into doing what she wanted.

  Sarah was probably just weary of all the relatives enquiring what Darcy thought of the two new additions. They were blood, she supposed she’d have to show an interest eventually. But she had been hoping that day would be sixteen or seventeen years from now. When she could teach them how to get a man to talk with nothing more than a paperclip, a banana and a can-do MacGyver attitude.

  Darcy blinked as her to-do list updated itself. Cool, a red-hot emergency, which had nothing to do with babies. An Incubus was missing, last reported as being summoned to the Southern Sanctuary.

  An Incubus? If one of those narcissistic assholes was loose in the Sanctuary he shouldn’t be hard to locate. She just needed to find the nearest, largest mirror, and no doubt the idiot would be standing in front of it, making goo-goo eyes at himself.

  Darcy reached over and tapped the item, calling up all the relevant details. Hmm, the Incubus had been missing for at least four days. Darcy considered Skyping with the Incubus King, but she doubted she would get anything relevant from the Demon Overlord of the Incubus Clan.

  She had tele-conferenced with him before, and it was kind of stomach churning watching the sinfully beautiful male hold up a gilt mirror and flirt with his own reflection even whilst they talked.

  A small flickering asterisk caught her attention on the file. A note from the High Council. Probably just reminding her not to kill the missing Incubus when she located him. She tapped on the asterisk, her mouth dropping open in surprise at what she read. She was to have company on this case
? Crap. Worse, it was one of the Apprentice Enforcers, in the midst of their final exams. They were to be assigned to her for this particular case and it would be her responsibility to evaluate and rate them. Double crap.

  Just what she didn’t need, a partner, a wannabe Enforcer. No doubt someone who was noble and linear, believing that it was always best to solve problems head on, with a large sword at the ready. So not her style, which was more along the lines of sneaky and covert. Until it was time to kill something that was.

  She loved her family, in her own way, she really did, but there was a reason Darcy worked alone and everyone knew it. Not only did she have a short fuse but she tended to stab first and ask questions later. Not something the justice-freak family Enforcers tended to condone. Well, except for her Cousin Hadleigh, who was renown for beheading first and really not caring about asking questions. Which was why Hadleigh tended to get all the hard-core - we already know they are guilty, somebody just needs to kill these assholes - assignments.

  Of course there was one way to avoid being partnered up with the wannabe Enforcer. Solve the missing Incubus mystery fast.

  Darcy hopped off the desk, smoothing down her short, black, Louise Brooks styled bob. She glanced down at her outfit, other than the thigh-high red boots, she wore pull up white stockings, held in place by black and white checked ribbons. Her red, black and white plaid pleated mini-skirt was wrinkle free. And since it was Spring and the day promised to be sunny, she’d paired it with a white frilled bustier and a tiny red short-sleeved snug top, since her office could get a little cool.

  Nell always claimed that Darcy dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl who attended burlesque college. Quite the compliment really, coming from her all too elegant older sister.

  It went without saying Darcy was fully armed. All she needed was her car keys. Grabbing them she headed for the exit, winding her way through the piles of books, manuscripts and scrolls. At the door she paused to survey the room, listening intently, all she heard was silence, but she wasn’t fooled.

  “Behave… or else.”