Night Huntress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #5)

Night Huntress (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #5) Page 2

As I padded over the silent earth, the scent of late spring threatened to cloud my senses. It was hard to keep hold of my instincts when playing the tabby. Every flutterbug tempted me, every scent that might be dinner or a toy made me want to race off and explore. But I was on a mission, I reminded myself, even as I spotted a daddy longlegs and promptly smacked it with one paw. I sniffed it, then gobbled it up before racing over toward the noise.

In my half-Fae, half-human form, the sound had been loud enough to hear. Now it was almost deafening. I lowered myself into stalk mode and slinked forward, keeping to the shadows. I was downwind, so unless whatever it was had an extremely keen sense of smell, it might not notice me.

As I crawled through the grass, practically on my belly, I began to sense a presence nearby, one that I recognized. It was Misha, a mouse that I’d formed a semblance of friendship with. I still chased her, but it was all in fun, and she said it kept her alert and alive. She’d saved my butt when my tail got stuck in a patch of cockleburs during the winter, and we’d managed to transcend our instincts and forge a weird but viable alliance.

Now she slipped out of her hole and came running over to me. “Delilah, there’s something on the land that shouldn’t be.”

In my Were form, I could talk to animals and understand them. Oh, it wasn’t the same form of vocalization that I used as a woman, but there’s a common speech recognized by most animals: a combination of body language and sounds.

I gave her a slight nod. “I know, but I’m not sure what. I haven’t picked up a scent yet, and I was just going to investigate.”

She shuddered. “Nasty thing. Terribly nasty thing. Big and dark. It eats mice and rodents and other small creatures, so you’d better be careful. Sticks them in its dark mouth and chews, chews, chews them up.”

I paused. Maybe not such a good idea to head into this in cat form. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Misha sniffed. “No, never. Terrible beast. It drools. Gray, it is, and looks like a broken two-legs. Not so tall and not so wide, but ugly, and hair stringing down its back, and its belly fat and bloated. It has fur, it does, but not in the right places. Not Friend.” Creatures, animals, and birds were divided into two distinct categories in Misha’s world—Friend and Not Friend.

She scurried back toward her hole, pausing for a moment to glance back at me. “Be careful. This creature, it could snap you like a twig.” And then she vanished into the earthen lair, back to her children.

I waited until she was safely underground then crept forward again, one paw step at a time. If this thing were capable of catching and eating small animals, I had to be careful. I could be killed in cat form easier than when I was hanging out on two legs. As I neared a bend that would lead me into the wood, onto the trail toward Birchwater Pond, I paused, one foot in midair. The sound of bushes rustling and boughs breaking echoed from up ahead. Whatever it was, it was a lot closer than before.

As I neared the source of the noise, the wind shifted just enough to sweep an overwhelming odor my way—dung, cloying like sickly, overripe fruit. And testosterone—thick and musky. Atop the fetid fragrance rode the scent of someone who delighted in administering pain. Animals can smell the intentions of beasts and humans, and I could sense this creature was cruel. He reveled in torment. Misha had been right. This was one vicious dude, whatever he was.

I brushed aside a stand of tall grass with my paw, silently peering between the blades. From where I crouched, I could see into a small clearing. Moonlight struck the ground, breaking through the wispy clouds, illuminating the dell enough for me to see the source of the disturbance.

A creature that stood about four feet tall was clawing at two prone tree trunks. One had fallen atop the other, probably during the last big windstorm. A whimper drifted out from between the downed trunks.

Wait a minute—I knew that sound! It was Speedo, the neighbor’s basset hound. He occasionally escaped from his yard and wandered onto our land. As I tried to figure out where he was, I saw that he’d wedged himself into an opening between the fallen firs and couldn’t get out. But his woodland cage was also his saving grace. The creature, whatever it was—and I suspected Demonkin—was having trouble. While he could reach his long, twisted hand into the opening, Speedo seemed to have enough room to back up, just out of reach.

It wouldn’t be long before the demon figured out that if he moved the top log, he’d be able to access what lay below. And below was Speedo, obviously a Happy Meal just out of the demon’s reach. The hoser wasn’t too bright, but even the dumbest demon couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to ignore the obvious, at least not for long. Poor old Speedo was a goner unless I did something.

I sized up my opponent. Going in as a cat would never work. He’d eat me in one gulp if he caught me. I could probably take him down by myself, but I’d have to shift fast. While in midtransition, I was helpless, and if the demon noticed me then, it would be all over.

Silently backing away, I hid beneath one of the nearby fir trees in a bushy patch of maidenhair fern and huckleberry. The thorns on the huckleberry would hurt when I transformed, but I’d been through worse. Thank the gods we weren’t under a full moon, or I’d be trapped in cat form until morning.

Sucking in a deep breath, I envisioned myself metamorphosing back into my two-legged body. Golden shag haircut, six foot one, athletic, a few scars here and there from all the fights we’d been in over the past few months, emerald eyes, just like my eyes when I was a cat . . .

As I clung to the image, I began to shift and willed the transformation to come fast. For once, my body obeyed me. With a dizzying whoosh I hit the ground as my collar changed back into my clothes. It hurt a little—I had shifted too fast—but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Sort of like being spanked all over with a rubber mallet. As soon as I was sure I’d fully transformed, I ripped out of the huckleberry bush and shook off the fern fronds entangling me.

“Get out of here, you ape!” I raced toward the demon at full tilt, ready to kick butt. The moment I’d made the full change, my sense of dread and fear had shifted to I’m pissed off, and you better make tracks!

The demon lurched around, staring up at me with a bewildered look on its face, but his puzzlement lasted just long enough for him to raise his ugly claws and slash at me. I dodged the attack. Barely. The ugly brute was a lot faster than he looked. I’d almost been snagged.

“So you think you’re going to rip my new jeans, do you?” I’d just bought three pair of the coolest indigo low-rise jeans from my favorite store the other day, and I wasn’t ready to punk them out yet. “Think again, Bubba!”

I pivoted on one foot, lashing out with the other to land a kick right in the middle of his grubby face.

“Crap!” My leg shuddered as it made contact. It felt like I’d just kicked a brick wall. Well, maybe not brick, but damned close. The demon might look like a little pissant, but he was resilient. This was going to be more of a challenge than I’d first thought. Worried, I took aim again. Again, my foot bounced off him, this time with a kick to the stomach.

“Watch out!”

The unexpected shout startled me, but being used to combat situations, I obeyed and dove into a somersault. Good thing, too, because the creature opened his mouth right as I ducked and let out a long belch of flame. I heard the crackle of dry tinder as I rolled to my feet and spun around.

A small patch of debris from a downed log was on fire. Next to it was standing a tall man with pale skin and dark hair, wearing a leather duster.

The demon seemed to think that facing two opponents wasn’t such a hunky-dory idea, and he turned tail and went crashing through the woods, away from the path. He had to be heading toward one of the boundary lines that divided our land from a protected wetlands area.

“Roz, be careful! He’s hard to kill,” I shouted as I gave chase.

“I know, you twit,” Roz shouted back as he raced past me. Very few creatures were faster than my sisters and me, but Rozurial was one of them. He was an incubus, technically a minor demon, but he roamed in that nicely shadowed ethical region into which we’d all slipped. He was definitely on our side, but no mistake—he was an incubus to the core.

Since he was helping us against Shadow Wing, the demon lord bent on taking over both Earth and Otherworld, we conveniently overlooked his cavorting with—and seducing of—nubile young maidens. And nubile older women. And nonnubile women. Roz liked women of any type, age, shape, size, or color. His greatest delight was in seducing the ones who considered themselves in full control. He loved seeing strong women capitulate to his charms. Apparently, he was good at what he did, but I had no intentions of finding out for myself.

I dodged around a burnt-out tree stump, hoping to hell the fire behind us wouldn’t go anywhere except out, and then hurdled over a clump of three fallen trees. Roz took them without a single hesitation, his duster flying out behind him as he gracefully sailed over the moss-laden trunks.

After a moment, he stopped and stared into the undergrowth. “I can’t smell him anymore. The scent of cedar’s too thick.”

I sniffed the air. Yep. Cedar, it was. Cedar and fir, and the moist scent of soil still slightly damp from the recent rain. Cocking my head, I tried to pick up any sound. My hearing was keen, like a cat’s, though in my half-human, half-Fae form, not quite so much. Small creatures were rustling through the tall grass. A jet soared overhead in the darkness, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of rippling waves from Birchwater Pond heralded an incoming breeze. But no sound of the demon.

“Damn it, we lost him.” I looked around once more, trying to decide if it was worth giving chase. But chances were he was long gone. He might come back or maybe not, but there was no doubt in my mind he’d broken through Camille’s wards. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here to alert us. We had to do something about that. Create some sort of warning system so that if she was out, the rest of us would know the wards had been breached.

I shook my head, disgusted. “Can’t even kill a simple demon. I’m getting soft,” I muttered.

Roz moved to put his arm around my shoulders but stopped when I shot him a warning look. He knew the rules; he was welcome in our home as long as he kept his mitts off Camille and me.

He’d put the skids on his pursuit of Camille after a run-in with Smoky. All it had taken was one misplaced hand on Camille’s ass while the dragon was watching to squelch any more attempts. As a dragon, Smoky could crisp Roz with one belch, but even in his six foot four wantonly gorgeous human form, Smoky was stronger than the incubus. He’d grabbed the demon by the scruff of the neck and dragged him outside, where he proceeded to beat the crap out of him. It took Roz two weeks and a lot of ice to heal up from Smoky’s thrashing.

But Roz still flirted constantly with Menolly, and she flirted back. Kind of. He’d tried to get in my pants a few times until I threatened to give him a nasty bite where it counted most. Now he left me alone except as a buddy.

“Don’t chide yourself,” he said. “That was a bloatworgle. You couldn’t have killed him without help. They’re lightning-fast even with their potbellies and scrawny-looking limbs.” He motioned toward the trail. “Come on, let’s go make sure the fire’s out and then report what we found.”

“A bloatworgle? Demonkin, I presume?”

Roz nodded. “Yes. Mainly grunts. They tend to congregate over here Earthside, a lot. I think several nests of them were hiding out when the portals were closed against the Subterranean Realms. They’ve kept the line going, it seems. But they’re usually found in deep caverns and barren mountain passes, so I’m not sure what the hell this one’s doing here.”

What the hell was right. Great, just great. Yet another monster I’d never heard of, and the thing was still on the loose. What had it wanted?

Regardless of what Roz said, there was no doubt in my mind that the bloatworgle had been sent here. Either another Degath Squad of Hell Scouts had broken through, or the demon lord Shadow Wing had something else up his pointy little tail. Either way, it looked like we were headed right back down the rabbit hole.

CHAPTER 2

On our way back, Roz and I made a quick sweep around the outskirts of the driveway and gardens to assure ourselves that nobody was hiding near the house, but we found no one lurking except a few scattered mice, raccoons, and other denizens of the animal realm.

Back inside, I dropped beside Chase, who was sitting on the sofa. Roz sprawled in a chair next to Menolly. Iris had taken Maggie off to bed and was now in the kitchen, heating water for tea.

“Our visitor was a demon. Roz says it’s a bloatworgle. I have no idea what it wanted, except that it was about to make a snack of Speedo. The creature has a hide as tough as seasoned leather. We lost him, unfortunately.” I slumped back against the sofa. “He got away through the undergrowth. By the way, he can belch flame. Nice touch, huh?”

“Bloatworgle?” Chase grimaced. “It look as nasty as it sounds?”

“Worse.” I glanced over at Menolly. “Heard of them before?”

She shook her head, but as Iris returned from the kitchen, the house sprite said, “Bloatworgles? Heavens, it’s been a while since I’ve run into one of those. They were all over the Northlands. When I moved back to Finland, I noticed quite a number there, too.”

“Northlands?” Menolly and I chimed at the same time.

“You lived in the Northlands like Smoky?” There were a lot of things we didn’t know about Iris. It had taken a good six months or more to pry out of her that she was a priestess of Undutar, a Finnish goddess of mists and ice. She still wouldn’t—or couldn’t, as she put it—talk about it.