Harvest Hunting (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #8)

Harvest Hunting (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #8) Page 3

Wordlessly, I peeked in the mirror. Now, in addition to pink, orange, and brassy blonde, I had platinum patches from the peroxide. Down below, too.

"Crap," I said again, shaking my head. "What can we do about my hair?"

Iris bit her lip. I'd never seen her look quite so remorseful. "I'm not sure. I have no idea how hair dye would react on you, given your half-Fae heritage.

Especially after the peroxide bath . Let me do some research on spel s. Maybe there's something we can do magical y."

"Forget about asking Camil e to touch my head," I muttered. "I remember perfectly wel what happened when she tried to make herself invisible. She was nekkid for a week and couldn't do a thing about it. And didn't even know it until somebody told her that her clothes were invisible."

A knock on the door interrupted us. I wrapped the towel around me, and Iris answered. It was Vanzir.

"Delilah--it's Luke, from the bar. He wants to talk to you."

Luke? Luke was a werewolf who worked at the Wayfarer Bar & Gril , owned by my sister Menol y. He occasional y came over to dinner, but if he was here instead of on duty, there must be something wrong.

I stared down at my towel-wrapped torso. At six one, I was lean, though not gaunt by any shape of the imagination. You couldn't see my bones--they were al covered by a nice layer of muscle.

"He'l have to deal with me being half-dressed. I'm not climbing into any of my clothes til I find something that wil prevent the skunk smel from spreading to them."

Wandering out into the foyer, I nodded at the tal , lanky werewolf who slouched against one wal . Luke could be mistaken for a cowboy except for the scar that laced its way down his cheek. A faint smile flickered across his lips. The ponytail that hung down his back was tidy but gave me the impression that his hair was fly-away and tousled by nature.

He touched the hat he wore. "Miss Delilah, how you doing? Ran into a skunk, did you?"

"That obvious?"

"Between your . . . perfume, and the new dye job up top, yeah. I bet Iris used tomato juice to no effect?" A lazy smile took the place of the worried look as he flashed a wink at Iris. She blushed.

I nodded. "Yeah, something like that. And then some quasi-crazy peroxide mix. You don't happen to have a cure, do you?"

"Maybe," he said. "At least for the scent. I'l have to go back to my apartment to get it. Learned to make it years ago when I was stil running with the Pack. We found out firsthand that tomato juice did a number on light-colored fur. But first, I need your services, if you're wil ing."

"My services?" I started to bristle, suddenly al too aware of my semi-naked state.

"You're a PI, aren't you?" He was doing his best to keep his eyes on my face, though I saw them drop a couple times, then swiftly scan back up to look me in the eye. Kind of cute, actual y. He was blushing. And, mingling with the skunk, the tomato juice, and the chemical scent of the peroxide, I could smel his musk, though not so thick as to indicate arousal. But he liked women, that was for sure.

"Oh. Um . . . yeah." I edged into the living room and nodded for him to fol ow me. "Have a seat. What do you need?"

Luke edged onto the sofa while I curled up in the rocking chair, making sure nothing was showing that shouldn't. Before I could sit down, Iris slipped in and spread a grungy sheet beneath me. Great. I was beginning to feel like Typhoid Mary.

"My sister's missing."

"I didn't know you had a sister," I said.

He nodded. "Amber was moving up here. She said that she'd had a vision, that she needed to live in Seattle for some reason. A few weeks back, she left the Pack, which is a big no-no unless you're excommunicated like I was."

"Did she say why?" I was beginning to wonder about lycanthropes--the Were system wasn't the same in al species, and I'd heard rumors that among the wolves, rules were very patriarchal. Not conducive to free-thinking females.

"Yeah . . . I'l tel you why in a moment. Anyway, she cal ed when she hit town this afternoon. She was going to check in, then rest a bit and meet me at the bar around eight. But she never showed. I cal ed the cops, but they won't put out missing person reports on Supes for forty-eight hours, which is bul shit. My sister came al the way from Arizona, and I'm worried. I checked with the hotel. They said she checked in at two P.M., but they haven't heard from her since."

"Any chance she got caught up visiting someone else?" Interested now, I pul ed a notebook off the end table next to me and began to jot down notes.

Luke shook his head. "Nope. She doesn't know anybody else here, but she was adamant about being summoned to this area. That's the word she used--summoned. I'm especial y worried because she's pregnant. A werewolf who is seven months pregnant just doesn't disappear. She should be nesting, creating the lair for the pups . . . or children, so to speak." His voice belied his calm exterior, and I could hear the panic wel ing just below the surface.

"What's her last name, and do you have a picture of her?"

He handed over a faded picture from his wal et. As I took it from his hands, I noticed the cal uses that had long embedded themselves into his fingers and palms. This man had seen hard work, harder than he was doing at the bar, and his skin was covered with faded scars.

I took the picture and gazed at the young woman staring back at me. She looked about twenty-five--misleading, of course, given the long-lived nature of the Supe Community. She had Luke's eyes. Feral and yet . . . a yearning hidden behind the wariness. Long, wheat-colored hair drifted down her shoulders, honey-kissed and vibrant. She was beautiful, luminous, and dangerous.

"Her name is Amber. Amber Johansen. We haven't seen each other in years."

He left something unspoken. Something that told me Luke had a suspicion about what had happened.

"What do you think is going on?" I caught his attention, turning on my glamour, wil ing him to open up.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, locking his gaze on mine without flinching. "I think that rat's ass she cal s a husband came after her. She told me over the phone that she was being fol owed down there, and my guess is he's trying to convince her to come back to the Pack. His ego--the ego of the Pack--neither takes it wel when their women leave. Rice is an abusive motherfucker, and I'm afraid he'l track her down and kil her."

And then, slowly, he crumbled. "Amber's the only family I've got."

"We'l find her," I said, sliding my hand over his. "We'l do everything we can to find her." But inside, I was praying we weren't too late.

CHAPTER 2

At that moment, the front door opened, and Menol y wandered in, her arm around Nerissa, who was obviously three sheets to the wind. They were both laughing, and my sister's fangs were down, but one look at Nerissa reassured me that Menol y hadn't slipped. Menol y gently deposited her in one of the armchairs and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then turned around.

"What the hel are you doing here? Is everything okay at the bar?" She stared at Luke in that uncanny, unblinking way she had. I could hardly wait until she actual y took a long look at me. I could just imagine what was going to come out of her mouth, and none of it would be complimentary.

Luke shrugged. "Chrysandra's covering for me. I needed to talk to your sister . . . and you, if you want to listen."

He mouthed off at her now and then, and she smacked him down from time to time, but they got along a lot better than most werewolves and vampires.

Luke was a damned good bartender, and my sister was a damned good boss.

"What's up?" Menol y folded her feet under her, sitting in the corner of the sofa. She stopped, sniffed the air, and looked at me. "Is that you? What the hel are you doing . . ." She stared, then let out a strangled laugh. "Oh my fucking gods, what happened to your hair?"

I grimaced. "About that . . . yeah. Me. Skunk. Tomato juice. Peroxide and baking soda. I've turned into a flaming orange calico, sans the black splotches, as you can see. Iris is researching whether hair dye wil make it worse."

"I'm glad I don't have to breathe." Menol y laughed again.

"I can help with the smel , I believe," Luke said, leaning back in his chair. "But I ain't even gonna try to touch that mop on your head."

Blinking at him, I frowned. "Yeah, I have a bad feeling I'm stuck with it until it grows out."

Menol y stifled a snort. I flashed her a nasty look, but she shrugged. "What? It's funny--and if anybody can pul off the look, you can."

"Right, that and a dime wil buy you the Brooklyn Bridge." I let out a long sigh. "What about Nerissa? Shouldn't you take care of her? She looks about ready to pass out. How much did you--she--drink, anyway?"

Menol y flashed me a toothy grin. "I think she downed a bottle of champagne on her own. Camil e and her harem wil be home pretty soon, by the way.

They stuck around to say good night to some of the stragglers. But before she gets here, I better warn you: Tread careful y around the whole issue of our il ustrious father's bailing on her wedding to Tril ian. It hit her hard. I heard her talking to Iris earlier, and she was trying not to cry."

"Crap. Why couldn't he have played the good guy this time? He's never been this mean to Camil e."

"Yeah, he's never turned his back on her except when she first came out about being involved with Tril ian. For him to do so now after al she's done for the agency and our family, it fucking sucks. I'm so pissed at him; he can shove his attitude right up his tight--"

"You're talking about our father!" Wrong or not, I couldn't help but stand up for him. It was ingrained in my nature, even though my heart wasn't holding much in the way of his defense this time.

"I don't care if I'm talking about Zeus. He had no right to do that to her." She tossed a look at Nerissa. "She'l be okay. She's comfy. Where's Vanzir?"

"He went out to the studio," Iris said.

She nodded. "Okay, so Luke--tel me what's going down."

As Luke ran down the info about his missing sister, I stared at the window. Menol y was right. Father ignoring Camil e, after al we'd been through in the past year, was worse than a slap in the face.

So who am I? Some days, I'm not sure myself, not any longer--things have shifted so much over the past year or so. I used to think life and people were relatively good, now I live in a war zone and pretty much have discarded the naive attitude I first toted Earthside. Most of the FBHs--ful -blooded humans--

walking down the street don't realize it, but their lives, their world, is in danger. I'm just one of the very few warriors on the vanguard, trying to prevent disaster.

I never would have described myself as a soldier a year ago. An agent, yes, for the Otherworld Intel igence Agency, but not a soldier. But we've al become warriors, my sisters and me and our friends, and we're fighting a horde of demons intent on breaking through the portals that separate the worlds.

Shadow Wing, the leader of the Subterranean Realms, intends to make both Earth and Otherworld his private stomping ground by gathering the spirit seals--an ancient artifact that was broken into nine sections and scattered to prevent the worlds of Fae and Earth from being accessed by the monsters from the Subterranean Realms. But the seals are surfacing again, and it's a race as to who can find them first: the demon lord or us. As of right now, we're standing in the way, trying to keep the floodgates closed.

My name is Delilah D'Artigo, and I'm a werecat. But I've also discovered another side to my shifting nature. A black panther self emerges when coaxed by my master--the Autumn Lord, one of the Harvestmen. He marked me as his only living Death Maiden, and someday, I'm destined to bear his child. My panther side is feral, fierce, and I'm beginning to love rather than fear her. She's becoming a part of me in a way that I never thought possible. I'm owning my predator nature--both in housecat and big cat. I have a twin--Arial--who died at birth, and she comes, a ghost leopard by nature, to help me at times. I can feel her near; she's a guardian and watches over me. I only wish that someday, we could real y sit down and talk.

My sisters--Menol y, a vampire, and Camil e, a Moon Witch recently promoted to priestess--and I are half-human, half-Fae, and our heritage short-circuits our powers at al the wrong times. Let's just say we've never won any employee-of-the-month awards, and not for lack of trying.

Our mother, Maria D'Artigo, a human, fel in love with our father, who is one of the Sidhe. She fol owed him back to Otherworld during the tail end of World War I . They married, had an exquisite romance, and she gave birth to us. Camil e first, then a couple years later me, then another couple years, Menol y. We look in our early twenties to humans. Maturity wise, we're right about there, too, though we've grown up fast the past couple of years. But we're al around sixty-some Earthside years old.

When we were fairly young, Mother died. She fel from a horse. Camil e took over and tried to fil her shoes, a daunting task for any young girl. And around thirteen years ago, ES time, Menol y was transformed into a vampire. But we always were sure of our father. Until this past month, he was a rock, and we were certain of his support. Now, things are changing, the Wheel is turning, and nothing is what it seems anymore.

And we've run out of time to adjust. The cards have been dealt, and we're in a life-and-death tournament from which there's no exit.

Menol y sat back, staring at Luke. "We'l do everything we can to find her. And if her fucking jerk of a husband is after her, we'l make certain he doesn't try it again." Abusive men didn't last long around her, often becoming her dinner. She fed on the lowlifes and violent criminals of the world.