by Sharon Kay
And Rhys intended to drop by often, just to ensure she was safe.
“You good getting home?” Jude asked Rilan.
“Pfft.” Rilan waved a hand dismissively. “You know better than to ask. I may not carry a sword, but I’ve got plenty of offense and defense spells right here.” He pointed to his temple.
“All right, see you later.” Rhys glanced at Jude. “Ready? We start in Little Italy.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Jude muttered, but followed Rhys into the shadows. They darted behind buildings, heading toward Ashland Avenue and then south several miles. Along the way, they spotted a few Skell demons sitting by a dumpster, gloomy expressions of their long faces. Near the huge sports stadium where the city’s professional teams played, two fairies giggled and held hands as they walked.
Rhys stopped. “Careful around here, ladies. No games tonight, so it’s pretty damn deserted.”
“You don’t have to worry about us, Watcher,” one cooed, tugging her mini skirt down an inch. “We’re going to that bar owned by one of the hockey players. There’s always humans there, reliving the glory of the winning seasons.”
“Woo-hoo! Go, Hawks!” Her friend raised her arms and cheered, pulling her already short top up, exposing her smooth belly.
“Plus, we can charm any big bad grumpy guys,” the first one said, voice dropping to a nymphy cross between pouting and humoring. “Want to come with us?”
“Not this time.” Jude shoved his hands in this pockets. “We’ll see you around.”
“Bye!” They sashayed away, hips swinging, singing the hockey team’s fight song.
Jude ran a hand over his hair. “They always seem so vulnerable to me, though they could be older than us. Could have their own unique powers too.”
“Yep.” Rhys scanned the now-empty street. “Older, not necessarily wiser. But they seem to get out of most human-related messes just fine. Let’s go.”
They set a quick pace for the rest of the way, darting under the expressway and entering a new neighborhood. Colorful store fronts lined the avenues, where restaurants proclaimed the best sausage sandwiches and Italian ice in the city.
“A few more blocks down,” Rhys said.
Jude slid him a look. “You do realize this is borderline stalkerish, right?”
“Not if we’re getting intel.”
“There are probably hundreds of halflings that we don’t investigate.”
Rhys grunted. He couldn’t explain why he needed to know Enza’s background. True, there was a slim chance the dark elves could come after her.
But curiosity had dug its heels into his brain. Something about her shouted to him that she was going to need protection and very soon.
“Hold up.” He stopped in front of a red brick three-flat. Concetta’s condo was on the second floor, easily within reach of his phone’s identification app.
Jude quirked a brow but didn’t say anything as Rhys activated the program. “I’ll check the back.” He slipped into the gangway between the building and its neighbor.
Rhys’s app flashed with results in seconds—nothing but humans. As expected, and as he confirmed with his nose.
Jude came around the other side. “All humans.”
“Yeah. That’s what I got. Next stop.” He walked to the end of the street and kept going south.
“Dude, if her mom’s human, her grandparents will be too.”
“Logically, that makes sense, but I want to check on them anyway.”
They stopped in front of a two-flat. Rhys had already determined that Vicente and Maria lived on the top level, and rented the lower floor to a young couple. The brown brick facade was dark.
“How much you wanna bet they’re asleep?” Jude’s focus shifted skyward as the flitter of bat wings cut through the quiet.
“You’re right,” Rhys said, walking to the back of the home. His screen lit up again. “Human.”
“So.” Jude rocked back on his heels. “You met a hot girl who’s half human and half Deserati. Based on this…we can guess her dad was the Des.”
“Yeah.”
“So, looks like we’re done playing detective. Not sure what you wanna do with this info, but whatever. Up to you. Ready to go find trouble?”
“Yeah.” Rhys pocketed his phone. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with these facts either, but as least he’d confirmed his suspicions.
They moved south and east, preferring to work east from the lake. Perched on a warehouse roof in a mostly industrial area, they took stock of their surroundings. Bass from a nightclub thumped nearby, and a few human voices shouting in revelry carried across the night air.
“Slow as shit.” Jude cracked his neck. “Is everyone still in a solstice hangover or what?”
Half of the supernatural creatures in the realm were fertile at the time of the solstices, and half at the equinoxes. Though they were a month past the summer solstice, for some of the fae, the frenzy of lust and mating was just dying down.
“Dunno, maybe.” A giggle caught Rhys’s ear and he concentrated on the street below.
Two male Deserati demons walked with two nymphs toward the club entrance. The females clung to them, barely clothed in scraps of clingy fabric. The group paused at the edge of the block and one male pulled out his phone, typing rapidly.
“Scanning us?” Jude spoke in a barely audible tone.
Rhys nodded, his guess confirmed as the demon looked up in their direction.
Rhys and Jude didn’t move. No need to, as long as no fighting was about to go down. Deserati demons were predators but were mostly good. A few rogues caused trouble now and then, but as of this moment, these two could be accused of nothing except imminently fucking nymphs. And there was no law against that.
The nymphs tugged at their companions’ arms, cooing and mock pleading. With the girls in the lead, they entered the club.
Rhys and Jude exchanged a glance and shrugged. No reason to follow them in. Dropping to the ground, they slipped away from the warehouses and across a rail yard, then found themselves in one of the city’s struggling neighborhoods.
The Watchers stuck to rooftops, as it was easier to navigate and observe, and they drew less attention from human gangs that postured and prowled at street level. Not that any Lash demon would be concerned around them, but human messes weren’t on their agenda.
On a flat black roof this time, Rhys studied the men below. Most in dirty tank tops, with guns shoved down the back waistbands of their pants. Cars came and went, with quick exchanges of money and plastic bags. The occasional joke rang out.
Jude inhaled. “I don’t detect anything—wait—”
The heady scent of roses teased Rhys’s nose. He turned.
A curvy red-headed Deserati demoness landed gracefully on their roof, having jumped from the next building over. She straightened from her crouch and tilted her head. “Rhys, right?”
“Miranda?” He walked toward her. The female had collaborated on and off with the Watchers over the years. Her duties were different, but they shared the same end goal of keeping supernatural activity hidden from humans. “You still in the city?” Last he’d heard, she was here because it was flat as a pancake, and she’d gotten in trouble for her power accidentally putting a hole in a mountain.
“Yep. I asked to stay on, actually.” She folded her arms over a tight black tank top that did nothing to hide her full breasts. “I like it here.” She flashed a smile at Jude. “I’m Miranda. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Jude.” The blond warrior inclined his head, but didn’t take her hand and kiss it like he did with non-predators and humans.
“Are you new to the group?” she asked. Standing with the Lash, who obviously knew what she was, she dropped the magical illusion that hid her horns and tail.
“Not new to the Watchers, but I got here a few months ago.” Jude rocked back on his heels.
“We’ve had some personnel changes lately,” Rhys said. A massive battle last year
, along with several Watcher matings, had caused a redistribution of the fighters in both realms.
“I see that,” Miranda murmured. “Looks like our duties line up tonight.”
Rhys dropped his gaze to the street. “Things are really quiet.”
“Tell me about it.” She flicked her leathery tail across the rough rooftop. “I should go get a massage, I’m so bored.”
“Any idea if there are a lot of Deserati in the city right now?” Jude asked.
“Yep. Since the solstice was only a month ago, people are still hanging around. Why?”
“We saw two males earlier, but they were with nymphs and going to a club. They scanned us, but…” Rhys shrugged. “No reason to do anything about it.”
“Any of us would be wise to scan you.” She purred the last word. “Alpha predators that you are.”
“What about halflings?” Rhys asked.
“Half Deserati?” Miranda swatted at a June bug buzzing in a lazy loop around her. “Here?”
“Yeah.” Rhys shoved his hands in his pockets.
She shook her head, red locks swishing around tiny horns above her ears. “There are probably lots of them in the world. We don’t keep track.”
“How many?” Jude asked.
She shrugged. “You know how intense the fertile seasons are. And since we can pass for human, we’re not limited to supernatural hangouts or species when we need to scratch that itch. Things happen.”
Rhys frowned at the idea of Enza happening. Did she go through heightened lust at each equinox, the fertile time for Deserati demons? A growl rumbled deep in his chest at the thought of her having mindless sex to ease the seasonal ache.
“What is it, warrior?” Miranda asked. “Is a halfling giving you trouble?”
Jude snorted. “Trouble isn’t the right word.”
“Oh?” Curiosity oozed from the demoness.
Rhys rubbed a hand over his jaw, ignoring the suggestive tone from both from them. “Nah. Thing is, I met one last night. I don’t think she knows what she is.”
“A lot of them don’t.” Miranda shrugged. “We don’t always announce our lineage before giving a human a good fucking. Especially since said announcement would most likely hinder the fucking.”
Jude laughed. Rhys shot him a glare.
Then again, he’d probably bedded numerous human women during the Lash demons’ fertile time at each solstice. Damn. Rhys ground his molars.
“This one you met,” Miranda said, “are you going to see her again?”
That was the million dollar question. “Maybe.” Rhys said. Definitely.
“Here.” Miranda reached into the pocket of her skin-tight jeans and handed him a card.
“You carry cards?”
“I’m always organized.” Miranda gathered her hair into a twist at one shoulder, then let it go. “Call me if the girl needs help with being a kick-ass-awesome half-demoness chick.”
“Thanks.” Rhys turned it over, studying the white script on black background.
“Or if she’s in the minority who have our lightning ability.” Miranda’s face got serious. “That can throw a person off, big time. She’ll need guidance on that for sure.”
Rhys nodded. A small percentage of Deserati demons could control lightning, manipulating it to their will. But from what he’d heard, the talent was as difficult to master as it was rare. Hence, Miranda’s punishment for ruining a mountain.
He blew out a breath. If Enza possessed that skill and had no idea about it, let alone no idea how to control it, she was a walking, talking time bomb.
If she had it… “How does a demon know if they have it?” he asked.
“Well, we all get tested really young. That shit needs to be pinpointed and controlled,” Miranda said. “But in the case of a halfling, there’s not necessarily anyone to check them out. Maybe something weird happens during a storm. Maybe the power goes out in her house. I don’t know.”
The power… Holy shit…That street lamp.
Time froze as Rhys stared, unseeing, at Miranda. Enza’s words echoed in his head. Technology hates me. Apps glitch, my files don’t save…
Holy fucking shit.
“Rhys?” Miranda tilted her head. “Where’d you go just now?”
With monumental effort, he schooled his shock into neutrality. “I may be calling you.”
Her green eyes widened. “You think she might be a lightning wielder?”
“Not sure.” He blew out a breath. “I need to talk to her more.”
“Dude, you were gonna do that anyway,” Jude cracked, then his face sobered. “That’s heavy firepower to be holding and not know how to use.”
“Call me with whatever you find out,” Miranda said. “Even if she can’t control lightning, she may have other questions. Or maybe she can scry.”
“You got it.” Rhys hadn’t thought of scrying, the talent by which Deserati could see what was happening in another place, using a reflective surface.
“All right. I’m serious. Let me know about her.” Miranda’s tone brokered no argument—exactly what he’d expect from a predatory female. “Good seeing you again, and nice meeting you, Jude. I’ve got more places to check out, and now I’m psyched that I may have a lightning sister right here.” She gave them a wave and vaulted from their rooftop to the next, then slipped away into the dark night.
Jude murmured something about glad to have Miranda on their side, but Rhys could only think of Enza. If he had been intrigued before, now he was in deep. The need to know more about her surged through him, attraction combined with the need to protect.
Time to pay his little baker-demoness a visit.
CHAPTER 7
ANTONIO AND SOREN SAT IN the rear VIP booth of the nightclub, watching their nymph dates dance on a packed wooden floor in the center of the dark space. An arctic blast churned from the cooling system, but it couldn’t keep up with both the crush of bodies inside and the humidity.
Though the sun had gone down the air held no less moisture. Antonio shook his head. Fucking summer.
The human waitress, clad in a tight black dress with straps crisscrossing over generous breasts, replaced their empty shot glasses with a fresh round. She made sure to lean over as she did so. “Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?”
“Not right now, gorgeous, but we’ll let you know.” Soren tracked her curves with hungry eyes, lingering on her ass as she sauntered away.
Antonio raised his glass to his brother. “To finding something worthwhile in this flat, hot city.”
Soren lifted his in return. “And to fucking nymphs every night.”
Antonio downed his Jack Daniels and surveyed the club. To his enhanced Deserati demon vision, every creature, both human and other, stood out clearly. Every scent that wafted to his nose was identifiable, and mostly consisting of the shitty chemicals in human perfumes.
That manufactured crap didn’t hinder him. Nothing could mask an individual’s scent. No matter the species, the scent acted as an olfactory fingerprint that couldn’t be changed. And his sleuthing would always identify true lineage.
“Looks like we’re the only predators in here.” Soren perused the crowd. “Guess those Lash demons didn’t have the night off.”
Antonio grunted, his gaze settling on a female who appeared to be a fairy but her ears weren’t pointed like they should be. He didn’t care much either way about the Watchers. Everyone knew they had a presence in this city. Everyone on Torth knew that a group of remarkable females with elemental talent had been discovered living here last year, and all had become mated to Watchers. Now their leader Arawn had even more power to call on if he needed it.
Yippee, skippee. Good for him.
The discovery of the women—sisters, known as the Solsti—had sparked realm-wide curiosity and a subtle migration to the city. What other creatures might be living in Chicago, honing their incredible talent? Or maybe even totally unaware of an ability they had?
Lots of Tort
h’s denizens had “extra” abilities. Ones that went beyond what a normal member of a given species could do. Some could cloak themselves in shadows. Some could exert mind control. Antonio and Soren had a sixth sense about these unique beings, and over the years had sniffed out many of them. They themselves hadn’t been born with their own species’ rare power to control lightning, but their ability to recognize the unusual had benefitted them for years, and especially recently.
Thanks to a particularly greedy group of Ghazsul demons who were willing to pay any price for creatures they could use. Antonio and Soren merely discovered, delivered, and got paid handsomely. Though they’d signed a contract in blood to provide decades of service, and it was a nice, easy life…lately, it had become less satisfying.
Antonio couldn’t pinpoint why. He had all conceivable comforts at his fingertips, yet the details of his life were blending together into a brew of distaste. The endless parade of cities, portal trips, handovers of supernaturals whom they took by force—the mix had congealed into something that left a sour tinge in his mind. But since their clan had indicated they had no interest in the brothers who couldn’t manipulate lightning, he wasn’t sure what else lay on the horizon.
He now focused on the dancing fairy. “Her ears aren’t pointed. She’s either a really short human, or she had them surgically altered.”
Soren assessed her. “Or she’s a halfling.”
“True. Though human and fairy? That may not yield much in the way of talent.”
“I’ll go see.” Soren set his glass down. He stalked to the dance floor, horns and tail hidden since humans populated the throng. Though when the night got late and the drinks were flowing, Soren sometimes let his magic slip, just to mess with unsuspecting homo sapiens. Getting up close to the female, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, then leaned down to her ear. She raised her arms and linked them behind his neck, delight on her face at the attention from a big, predatory male.
“Hey, honey,” Antonio’s nymph cooed breathlessly, sliding into the booth and almost onto his lap. “We can’t have you sitting all alone.” She leaned in to nibble his ear and whisper, “Wanna have some fun right here? It’s so dark and private…” A tiny hand reached up to stroke along one horn, which he had hidden but she knew very well were there.
