Courting Darkness (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #10)

Courting Darkness (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #10) Page 3

Without further ado, I focused on the daemon and summoned the Moon Mother’s power into my hands, willing it to flow into the creature’s aura. With a tingle raging through my fingers, like pins and needles pricking a thousand nerves, I began to rearrange the shape of his energy field, focusing on smoothing out the bumps and modifying the color.

Even if we could get him to pass for a Supe of unknown variety, chances were the Seattle Tattler wouldn’t be getting calls about some hellish creature rampaging through the streets. Maybe a weredog or something . . .

With one last shove to set the energy, I blinked and stood back. The daemon began to shift form. We all waited with pent breath, and then as the spell settled into his aura, I let out a gurgle and face-palmed my forehead. Not quite what I’d been going for.

The daemon stood there, on all four feet, tail wagging, staring up at me. “What did you do to me, woman? I didn’t think you’d actually be able to do anything. I heard you were a bumbling idiot! How long am I going to look like this? A poodle? Are you serious?”

He took a threatening step toward me and nipped at my ankles, but Smoky leaned over and scooped up the daemon.

“Do not threaten my wife, even if it is with rabies.”

“I don’t have rabies, you idiot! I’m not actually a dog!”

“Um, I hate to differ with you,” Menolly said, “but you are for now. And it could last ten minutes or it could last ten days, knowing my sister. I advise you get back to the Demon Underground before the dogcatcher sees you.”

The string of obscenities that issued forth made even my ears hurt. Apparently, my mind hadn’t been as focused as I’d thought, because he was nowhere human or Were looking. In fact, he was a very ornate white poodle, clipped in the typical powder-puff stereotype. With two glaring exceptions: both his eyes and his toenails were brilliant red.

“You look like some sort of wacked-out hellhound,” Trillian said. “I’m sorry, dude. My wife tends to fritz out on her magic a lot, but it does work, contrary to what Trytian seems to have told you.”

“Put me down, you lunatic, and let me out of here now!” The daemon dog snapped again, and Smoky promptly curled his thumb and index finger together and gave him a thunk on the muzzle. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to humiliate.

“Mind your manners.” He rolled his eyes and headed toward the door. “I’m going to go release this one outside so he can go home. Camille, my love, think twice next time. We could have simply given him a cloak to wear.”

I snorted. “Whatever. It’s not going to hurt him. But hurry it up because Chase needs us in Tangleroot Park.”

As Smoky carried the struggling mutt up the stairs, I turned to Menolly. “What are you going to tell your patrons up there? They have to have some plausible explanation.”

She frowned. “Fire troll?”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Most of them won’t know that. Tonight it’s mainly a bunch of Earthside Supes and Faerie Maids up there. I could tell them that dragons turn into pixies and they might believe me.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “You’re probably right. Tell them we subdued him. But we’re going to have to tell Queen Asteria the truth. That poor elf has a family somewhere and you can bet, ten to one, they’re back in Otherworld. I don’t think he’s going to willingly oblige us by being homeless, without next of kin.”

Menolly chewed on her lip. “Yeah, I know. Let’s go. I’ll have Derrick bring the body down here until we can identify him. You guys go on ahead. Call if you need me.”

As we threaded our way out of the bar, it occurred to me that with our luck, Santa would come riding into town with a sawed-off shotgun. Considering that I’d met the Holly King when I was a young girl, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit. He was a terrifying figure and it never failed to awe me just whom the FBHs would invite down their chimneys without asking for references.

Leaving Menolly to tackle the damage control at the bar, we headed over to Tangleroot Park. The snow was falling lightly, and the soft swish of my windshield wipers kept up a lively rhythm. Trillian was riding shotgun, Smoky sprawled in the back.

I glanced at Smoky through the rearview mirror, wondering whether it was a good time to discuss what the daemon had told us, but decided to wait. We already knew Hyto had it in for us. Mentioning it would only set Smoky off, and I really didn’t want a pissed-off dragon in the backseat. Even one whom I loved.

As the asphalt sped by, I thought about the past year. So much had happened. When my sisters and I were first sent over from Otherworld, we didn’t have a clue as to what waited in store for us. We learned the hard way, all too fast.

I’m Camille D’Artigo—that’s Dee-Ar-tee-go. At home I’m known as Camille Sepharial te Maria, because in Otherworld, Fae take their mother’s first name as a surname. When we came Earthside, we just started using our mother’s last name.

Either way you slice it, I’m half-human, half-Fae, and all trouble, at least according to my husbands and my sisters. I’m married to a dragon, a youkai-kitsune, and one of the dark, Charming Fae. Simultaneously. That doesn’t go over well with some of the Earthside community who call me a slut and a whore, but I don’t give a fuck what they think. My mores are my own, and if loving three men is a crime, I’ll happily play criminal.

By heart, soul, and trade, I’m a witch, recently promoted to priestess. The Moon Mother rode me on one hell of a rough trial, but I walked through the shadow and—like Ishtar—came out of the Underworld triumphant. In the wake of destruction, a new path opened, upon which I am preparing to embark.

My sister Delilah—a two-faced Were by nature and a Death Maiden by calling—is second born. Until recently, I worried that her naïveté would be her downfall, but she’s toughened up and come to accept herself for who she is. She seems much happier now, less angsty. Delilah had a twin who died at birth. Arial watches over her, in leopard form, and the two have met in the astral realm.

And then there’s Menolly, who was a jian-tu—a spy/acrobat—until she was tortured and turned into a vampire back in Otherworld. Last winter, we managed to dust her sire, one of the most vicious pieces of filth that ever walked the Earth. Menolly runs a fine line, controlling her predator nature but accepting who she is. But even in death, she’s my baby sister.

Together with our lovers and friends, we’re fighting a demonic war, alone except with scattered help from the elves and a few other Supes we can trust. We’re on the trail of the spirit seals—nine artifacts broken from a single treasure formed by the Elemental Lords and the ancient Fae Lords when Otherworld split off from Earth during the Great Divide. We’ve managed to find several of them, but Shadow Wing snagged one, which makes the danger more precarious. The rest are up for grabs, and we’re trying to prevent him from getting hold of any more. Every spirit seal the demon lord possesses brings him one step closer to the day he manages to break through the portals, to raze both Earth and Otherworld to the ground.

And we’re the only ones standing in his way.

Tangleroot State Park was ostensibly closed for the night, but Chase was waiting near the front gates for us. A day park, the 400-acre sprawl was a maze of picnic tables and jungle gyms, huge maple trees and conifers. The maples were bare-branched, naked to the sky, but the firs and cedars towered dark and brooding over the area. Snow clung to both naked limb and needled bough, creating a surreal, cloaked feel to the park.

As we drove through the gates and parked, I quietly slid out of the car and stood, gazing up at the giant sentinels that guarded the grounds.

Something about woodlands and glades, parks and forests during winter muffled my thoughts, sent me into a quietude that I seldom found except within my magic and meditation. They reminded me of my days spent in study back home, when I first became a witch under the Moon Mother’s watchful eyes.

Chase smiled tightly, raising his hand. His eyes glimmered with magic. The Nectar of Life was taking full hold of him. Just where he’d end up was a mystery none of us could fathom, but watching his journey was fascinating, and I hoped to hell it ended well for him. He’d helped us so much and, although I’d started out wanting to smack him every time he stared at my boobs, over the months I’d come to respect and even like the detective.

As Delilah and Shade pulled in, a flicker of regret skittered across his face but disappeared so rapidly I thought I might be imagining it. Chase was dating Sharah now—the elfin medic at the FH-CSI—the Faerie Human Crime Scene Investigation unit. They seemed casually happy together.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “I know you must be tired from your trip.” He searched my face. “How’s Iris?”

I shrugged. “Better than when we left. But it was hard—it was rough on her. It was difficult on all of us. The Northlands are a terrifying and harsh place. And I kept worrying that we might run into Hyto. Speaking of which . . .” Chase had to know. Hyto could wreak havoc on the city. “Chase, Hyto’s hanging around here.”

Chase gave me a sharp look. “Smoky’s father? Here? In Seattle?” A faint look of bewilderment skittered across his face. Or perhaps it was denial. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wish I were. Apparently, he’s stirring up trouble. And we know he’s out to get Smoky and me. We just got the word tonight. I don’t mind telling you, Chase, I’m scared spitless. Dragons are dangerous—all of them. Even Smoky. And Shade, who’s only half dragon. But a dragon with a grudge . . . Hyto threatened me when we met. I know he’s more than capable of carrying out those threats.”

Shuddering, I let it drop. There was nothing more to say. Chase couldn’t do anything except keep a lookout. If he tried to go up against Hyto, he’d be charcoal. Or worse. The memory of Hyto’s hands on me, of his whispered threats, ran through me like ice water, and I tried to shake it off.

“What have you got for us?” I asked, before Chase could say anything else.

He paused for a moment, our eyes meeting. A flare of magic whirled in those dark orbs, and for a moment, I felt pulled toward him—as if there were a connection that resonated through both of us. It wasn’t sexual, but a deeper link, one born of magic, of the dark of night.

“Camille,” he whispered. “What . . .” And then, as quickly as the mind-touch flared, it vanished, and we were standing among the others as if nothing had happened.

I shook my head at him and mouthed, Later.

“You were going to show us what you think is a portal?” I didn’t want anybody else noticing what had happened. Chase was going through so many transformations that a bunch of nosy questions weren’t going to help him. But I decided to privately have a long talk with the detective. We needed to test him, find out just what sort of magical talents were emerging.

He stood there for a moment, pensive, then nodded and motioned for us to follow him. “Yeah, this way.”

As we fell in behind him, he explained how he found it. “I got a call on the tip line, of all things, telling me there was something in the park that wasn’t right.”

“Male or female?”

“I honestly don’t know. But I sent Shamas and Yugi out here and they found this . . . thing. It reminds me of Grandmother Coyote’s portal. But it’s . . . different. It doesn’t have the same feel, if that makes sense.” He frowned. “Like when you see an impersonator. Maybe he looks like the real thing, but there’s something off . . .”

I pressed my lips together. There were so many things in our world that were “just a little bit off” that the normality of life had taken a backseat. “Yeah, I know. Show us, please.”

We scuffed through the snow, along the ice-covered sidewalks into the heart of the park. Tangleroot Park gave me the creeps, to be honest. I usually loved the outdoors, but some woods are too dark, some places too wild for comfort. Especially over here, Earthside.

The home of massive cedar and fir trees, Tangleroot Park also housed a couple of ancient yew trees. The tree of death, the tree of rebirth. A dark soul in a bright night, the yew was one of the most holy of trees, and yet it calved off into a hundred trunks, a hundred roots, all twisting in on the heart of the trunk. The spirit of the yew belonged to the winter, to the barren and fallow season, to the Underworld.

And the minute we began to walk toward the center of the park, I could feel the yews watching us. Watching me. They were curious, and their curiosity came creeping out, feelers reaching for my energy.

Death priestess . . . dark moon priestess . . . we feel you pass by.

Startled, I jerked my head up, but even though I glanced around, I knew that no one walking on two feet had said that. It was the forest. The yews.

I tried to keep my thoughts to myself, tried to rein in my aura. Lately it had become a challenge not to blast it wide. The more Morio and I worked together on our death magic, the stronger I was becoming.

And when I backfired, the backlashes were more intense, and more dangerous. As I cloaked up, warding myself against prying eyes, we turned off on a side path, silently filing through the snow-laden trees. A faint mist ran through the park, sparkling and electric. Mist didn’t usually crackle; something had to be infusing it for it to shimmer so much.

I glanced up at Smoky. “Something is feeding the mist.”

He gave me a faint nod. “I feel it, too. This is unnatural.”

Delilah slipped up beside us. “Shade just told me that he senses Netherworld energy here, but there’s something more. Something far removed from the spirit realm.”