She turned to the gargoyle on her left. “This is Mithra. He was born a prince in his world, until Lethesanar enslaved him.”
Lethesanar had been the queen of Y’Elestrial until her sister Tanaquar deposed her. She had been ethically devoid, an opium addict, a slave to her whims and emotions. Tanaquar was marginally better.
Camille curtseyed and I bowed to the gargoyle. We’d been raised to show respect to authority. Mithra looked surprised.
“You do not have to do that,” he said, and his voice—guttural in his own language—was surprisingly soft in ours. “You are under no obligation to recognize our heritage. When we were captured, we lost the keys to our kingdom, to use a human expression.”
“We choose to honor your birthright.” Camille frowned, looking confused.
I knew what she was thinking. We’d been taught that gargoyles didn’t have a strongly developed sense of intellect—that the Cryptos were, instead, like extremely smart animals who could talk. But Mithra’s cadence, his very nature, spoke of a high acumen.
Grandmother Coyote cleared her throat. “Everything you were taught—at least about the intelligence level of gargoyles—is a lie. It was devised to allow the governments to keep control over the race, and to use them for their own ends.”
I glanced at Mithra. He and his companion nodded. “But why hasn’t this come out before? Why are the lies perpetuated?”
“Think of all the intelligence that the gargoyle race has gathered for the various governments back in Otherworld over the years. And what you do not realize—not till now, that is—is that there are secret societies over here, Earthside, who also know this and who also make use of it. They’ve had contracts in place with OW emissaries to buy gargoyles for their own uses.”
“Why doesn’t your race rebel?” Camille turned to Mithra. “Why allow this to go on?”
Mithra let out what sounded like a long sigh, but it came in a flutter of wings, the sound of wind howling through a stone arch. “We are too few. All gargoyles—combined species—do not make up a tenth of Y’Elestrial’s population. We are rare. While we live long lives, as long as the Fae, we breed at a much slower rate. We are born ten males to every female, and a female may have one litter during her life, if she’s lucky. Unless she’s captive, used as a breeding machine.”
Maggie’s mother sprang to mind. She’d been held in the Subterranean Realms, as far as we knew, used to breed babies like our Maggie for demon food.
Gesturing to his friend, Mithra said, “This is my companion, Astralis. He and I were on a scouting mission for our father when we were captured. He is my brother, although I was the heir to the throne.”
I considered what he said. It made sense—when you belonged to a race whose existence hinged on a small number of females, and when the population of your race was limited, it didn’t make sense to wage war on your oppressors if you weren’t systematically being destroyed.
“So you do your best to evade your captors, and to preserve your race.” I met Mithra’s gaze again and he nodded.
“We cannot change the thinking of an entire world without proving the governments who instill that mind-set wrong. And that task is, I’m afraid, more than we have the ability to tackle. As it is, we do our best to keep the entrance to our city warded so strongly that no one may enter.” The look on his face spoke volumes.
“Has Y’Elestrial—or any other government—threatened to invade you before? To enslave all of your people?” Camille asked. While we knew the Court and Crown was corrupt, this was more than disconcerting. “I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already, given what you’re telling us.”
Astralis shook his head. “If they were to do so, our actual natures might come to attention and they would not be able to keep the status quo. So they capture us, here and there, promising to leave the females alone. In return, our father looks the other way when they harvest.”
Camille and I glanced at each other. This was hard to swallow, but given the nature of politics, I wasn’t surprised. Saddened, but no longer surprised. Yeah, the naïve little girl was gone.
“Mithra and Astralis were harvested by Lethesanar years ago and pressed into service. King Virgil, their father, protested but the Opium Eater threatened to kill off the queen if he spoke too loudly. Since there were other children in the litter, he relented.” Grandmother Coyote’s lip twitched. “I approached her sometime back with an offer she dared not refuse. I freed them from her tyranny, but asked them to stay for a few years working for me, because I sensed a disturbance and wanted someone to watch over the matter.”
“And now, Grandmother Coyote has freed us to return to our homeland after we tell you what we’ve discovered.” The stone-solid countenance on Mithra’s face softened and I thought I could detect a smile. “We have not seen our family, or our city, in over eight hundred years. We were first set to watch over Europe, then brought to this land a hundred years ago.”
“Lethesanar wanted eyes in the new world, and she wanted them over here in this city.” Astralis let out a soft huff. “We were her most reliable. If we didn’t fall in line, she threatened to wipe out the royal family. Now, she is gone, and we are free. Once we reach our city, neither of us will ever set foot outside the boundaries again.”
“Will you be able to reach home without a problem?” The thought that they might be caught on their way home set my stomach to churning, but I could see it happening, all too easily.
Grandmother Coyote eased my worries. “Never you concern yourself, young cat. I will make certain they return home without incident. Now, before I ask them to tell you what they have discovered, let me set the background of this tale for you.”
Grandmother Coyote motioned for us to make ourselves comfortable. As we settled into our seats, the gargoyles leaned back, squatting on their haunches like I’d seen Maggie do a hundred times. Their wings were delicately tucked back, folded to be out of the way, and when they stood still, they looked made of the same stone of the buildings over which they watched.
“Over one hundred years ago, a man named Michael Farantino arrived in Seattle. He came from Italy, and he was human. He was also rich. And he knew about Weres, vamps, and other creatures. He also knew how to contact demons and other creatures from the Sub-Realms. He did so for his own gain, selling his services to the highest bidder. There are many things humans can do to benefit Demonkin. Eventually, he built what is now one of the oldest buildings in Seattle. The Farantino Building. Once a brick walk-up, now it’s been modernized and turned into office space. I felt it needed watching over.”
“So I went to Lethesanar. Your former queen was deep in the throes of her addiction and not amenable to my visit, but as I said, she dared not refuse me.” Here, Grandmother Coyote smiled, sending chills down my spine. Her steel teeth gleamed and I couldn’t imagine anybody standing up to her. The Opium Eater must have been stoned out of her mind.
Apparently Grandmother Coyote thought so, too, for she laughed and shook her head. “She only protested for a little time. It did not take me long to convince her of the wisdom of bowing to my demands. I insisted she give me control over Mithra and Astralis. I chose them because I knew that eventually, they would need to return to their home in order for the balance in their city-state to return to normal. In the end, the Opium Eater had no choice. She did not like it, but her whims were not—and are not—my concern. By the by, remember, Lethesanar still lives. Never forget that—for she has a long memory for those who helped cross her.”
A sly smile crept across her face and I caught sight of the predator that lurked within her. Not predator . . . no. Instigator. Judge, jury, and executioner. Grandmother Coyote was not afraid of her power.
“I replaced two of the statues on the building with the brothers, and told them to keep watch, to note the changes in energy, and there they have stayed these past eighty years and more. Until two nights ago, when the balance began to shift even further, and it became necessary to act.” Here, she
stopped.
Mithra cleared his throat. “My brother and I have done as requested. We’ve kept watch on the building and the comings and goings within. Over the years, there has been a steady increase of what we first thought of as demonic energy. It infused the aura of the structure, and during the past three years, that growth has been disturbing.”
Astralis nodded. “Two nights ago, the strength of that energy grew again—so much so that we contacted Grandmother Coyote. Something big is waking. Something that could rock the city and surrounding areas. The entire building was being infused with demonic energy. Or so we thought. But we were mistaken. When the shift occurred, we realized that rather than Demonkin, the building’s aura is infused with energy from the daemonic realms.”
Grandmother Coyote nodded. “I’d first thought they were possibly in cahoots with Shadow Wing, but apparently not.”
Daemons. She was right. Most of the daemons detested the Demon Lord’s attempt to rule them. In fact, we were in unwilling cahoots with Trytian, one of the leaders in the daemonic realm who was over here, Earthside, leading a resistance faction against him. We didn’t like him, or trust him. But like it or not, we needed his help, and the help of his kind.
* * *
When my sisters and I first were sent ES—Earthside—by the OIA—Otherworld Intelligence Agency, we knew we had been exiled to the backwoods. We had always done our best, but none of us was ever up for employee of the year, and Camille’s boss had a long-time vendetta against her. He was determined to run her out. Thanks to his grudges against her, we all became targets.
One of the reasons we weren’t so hot at our jobs was that we’re half-Fae, half-human, and because of our mixed lineage, our powers can be erratic. Meaning, we fuck up a lot.
Sephreh ob Tanu, our father—full OW Fae—was a member of the Guard Des’Estar for most of his life. Back around the middle of World War II, on an ES mission in Spain, he met Maria D’Artigo, who was as human as they come. Sephreh fell head over heels in love with her, and swept her home to Otherworld, where they married, had us kids, and lived happily ever after until Mother fell from a horse and broke her neck, which ended any idea of Cinderella stories for the three of us girls. She left our father a widower and the three of us motherless at an early age.
Camille, the oldest, took over and did her best to guide Menolly and me, even though she was scarcely old enough to run a household. It was she who first knew our mother had died, and I don’t think our father ever forgave her for playing the part of the messenger.
A Moon Witch and priestess, she’s married to three alpha men—a dragon shifter named Smoky, a youkai-kitsune named Morio, and Trillian, a Svartan—one of the dark and charming Fae. They make one hell of a powerful quartet. With raven black hair and violet eyes, Camille is hot. Curvy pinup woman hot. Busty, with hips, and thighs that could crush steel, she sports a wardrobe that would furnish half the fetish bars in Seattle and has an easy self-confidence that I’ve always envied. She is the owner of the Indigo Court Bookshop—which, like all of our “jobs,” was the cover the OIA gave her when we first came Earthside. She loves it, though, even though she doesn’t have much time to hang out there.
Menolly, the youngest, is the petite one. She barely tops five one and her hair color was—and still is—a mystery. Nobody in our family ever had the bright burnished copper she does. She wears it in cornrows beaded with ivory because the sound of the beads clinking together reminds her she exists. Vampires are silent creatures, and my sister is a bloodsucker.
Thirteen or so ES years ago, before we came over here, Menolly was on a mission. A jian-tu—or spy—she was scouting out a vampire’s nest. Unfortunately, she slipped from the ceiling and landed in the middle of the vampires, which landed her in a world of pain and hurt. Dredge tortured her, raped her, carved her up, then killed her and turned her. After that, he sent her home to destroy us.
Camille managed to put a stop to his plans and Menolly spent a year in rehab, learning how to adjust to her new life. Or un-life as it may be. But we got revenge. Almost two years ago, he showed up here and we took the sucker out for good. Now, Menolly’s married to a gorgeous werepuma named Nerissa, and she’s also consort to Roman, a vampire lord and son of Blood Wyne, the vampire queen. And she owns the Wayfarer, the city’s most happening bar. Or at least we think it is. Menolly’s come a long way.
And lastly, there’s me. I’m Delilah, the middle one. I’m a two-faced Were, with both tabby cat and black panther lurking inside. And, yes, I’m a Death Maiden. At six one, I’m athletic as hell, with short spiky blonde hair, and I’m engaged to a half dragon named Shade who has given me a new perspective on life. Every day I thank Bastus that Shade is in my life. And finally—finally, my sisters have quit treating me like a child. Probably because I don’t act like one anymore. I ostensibly run a private eye firm above the Indigo Court Bookshop, though I seldom have time to take on cases, and I am the first to admit, I’m not the best person to hire.
As I said, when we were sent over ES, we mostly wanted to work our way back into the good graces of the OIA. And we’ve done just that and more: Now we run the Earthside division.
Along the way, we ended up smack in the middle of Shadow Wing’s demonic war. Unfortunately, we are the ones standing first in line.
* * *
“And so we have a worrisome force waking.” Grandmother Coyote turned to me. “I requested you be given charge of cleansing Gerald Hanson’s soul for a reason, other than he’s part werewolf.”
I waited for it, somehow knowing what was coming. A glance at Camille’s expression told me she was fast-tracking the same as me. But neither of us said a word out loud. Best not to interrupt Grandmother Coyote mid train of thought.
“Gerald Hanson owned the Farantino Building, at least for some time. And while Michael is long dead, Gerald was his great-grandson. His mother was from outside the family, of course, and she was the daughter of a werewolf and a human, which gave Gerald a few extra abilities, but he never was at the beck and call of the moon. The building is no longer in his family’s possession, but they are still bound to it. And Gerald was connected to this last shift in energy. Whatever he was doing seriously upset the balance and it would have gotten worse, had he continued to live. Given all the disruption he’s caused, we decided to forever eliminate him. Contrary to what is commonly believed, the Hags of Fate are not omniscient. We know what we know, but the rest? A mystery.”
“So Gerald is—was—connected to the daemonic energy.” I frowned, thinking about what I’d seen in his mind. Some rough stuff, but it was hard to tell just how far it went. However, he’d upset the balance enough to get wiped out of existence, so whatever he’d done had been beyond bad.
“Yes, and I want you—and your sisters—to find out what’s going on and put a stop to it. The balance is rapidly sliding out of sync and Gerald’s oblition simply prolongs the inevitable. Whoever owns the Farantino Building has money and power, and movement on the web that threads through the universe indicates that he—and it is a he—will be making a play for more than the corner he has currently mucked out for himself.”
Her voice was hushed and sent a shiver up my spine.
“You mean he’s out for a power grab?”
“Yes, and whatever power he’s trying to awaken can provide this for him. Unless you halt whatever lies at the core of this energy, the powers controlling Seattle will eventually fall under the reign of this veiled enemy. I can see no more than this, but it must not be allowed to happen.” She stood, motioning to Mithra and Astralis. “Come. It is time to return you to your home.” And with that, they swept toward the door.
The phone rang, and I picked it up as Camille saw them out.
“Is Menolly there?” The man’s voice was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place it.
“No, she’s at work. May I take a message?” I scanned the coffee table for a pad and pencil but there was none in sight.
After a pause and a whisper
ed conversation on the other side of the line, the man was back. “Maybe you can help us. This is Tad, from Microsoft. You know, Menolly’s friend, from the VA.”
Vampires Anonymous . . . now I remembered the name. Tad, and his friend Albert, worked the night shift at Microsoft. They were vampires, and had both been turned around the same time. They managed to keep their jobs and their sanity thanks to Wade. Wade Stevens was the director of Vampires Anonymous, a self-help support group for newly minted vamps. Albert and Tad were geek boys and roomed together at the Shrouded Grove Suites, a new apartment complex specifically designed for bloodsuckers.
“What’s up?” I had no clue what he might want. If it was vampire-oriented, it seemed that he’d either talk to the people at the VA, or the Seattle Vampire Nexus, or he’d just go down to consult with Menolly directly.
“We have a problem and thought maybe the three of you could help us.” He sounded tongue-tied, but then again, Tad always sounded tongue-tied around women. The stereotypical geek boy.
I realized he was waiting for my response. A little irritated, I let out a sigh. “Go on.”
“Can Albert and I come over? We’re really worried about a friend of ours and wanted to know if you would look into it.” He sounded so puppy-dog sad that I couldn’t help myself.
“Meet us at the Wayfarer in twenty minutes. Menolly’s there, she’ll be able to join us.” I could use some time on the town, anyway. And Camille would go with me, if I promised to buy her a drink.
“Thanks, Delilah.” And with that, he hung up.
I turned around. “Get your coat, Camille. We have to head down to the bar. It’s probably nothing but . . . you never know.”
Autumn Whispers o-14 Page 3
