by E.J. Stevens
“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked.
“How dare you interrupt…” he sputtered.
His eye sockets flashed, but I held my ground. Yeah, I don’t know how he does it either. Apparently, it’s a vampire thing. What I did know was that Gaius was extremely, massively, seriously pissed off. I wanted him out of my office and away from Jinx, like, yesterday.
“You came into my territory, threatened my vassal, and vandalized my property,” I said, forcing more confidence and conviction into the words than I felt. My voice didn’t shake once. Go, me. “It’s high time you got to the point of your visit, Gaius. What. Do. You. Want?”
I bit off the words then held my breath. That middle bit was a stretch. Jinx was my human vassal, a title I hated but that gave her access to places humans weren’t normally allowed to enter and kept most fae from messing with her, but claiming that Gaius had threatened her was splitting hairs. But I’d spent a lot of time amongst predators and one thing they had in common was body language.
Gaius flashing his fangs, swiftly growing fangs, didn’t just telegraph his emotional state. In the supernatural world, that could be perceived as a threat. It was a dubious claim, but a claim nonetheless. In addition to your garden variety predators, I’d been sharing my apartment with a demon attorney. Apparently, I’d picked up a thing or two from Forneus’ legal rants.
Gaius went unnaturally still. My lungs hurt from holding my breath, and I wished that the master vampire would go back to breaking my furniture.
Jinx reached for her crossbow, and my hand slid to the wooden stakes at the small of my back, but we were too late. Gaius lunged, fangs erupting from froth-covered lips.
My utility belt and Jinx’s desk had never seemed so far away. Even with my faerie-enhanced reflexes, the vampire was faster. It was like moving through molasses, or congealed blood. I pulled energy from the city’s ley lines, the magic making my teeth hum painfully as if I was biting on a power line, and something tore inside of me.
Whatever it was, I’d worry about it later. If there was a later. Gaius was fast, damn fast, and he was pissed.
Most of the skills I’d learned in Faerie applied here in the human world, but they were much harder to manifest. According to Ceff, that was because in Faerie magic was everywhere. Here in the mortal world, I had to make do with the weaker magic that flowed naturally or steal it from a source, in this case the ley lines, that I shouldn’t have direct access to. Nobody, not even Ceff, really understood how I did that. But we all agreed it should be reserved as a last resort.
That logic went out the window went a master vampire lunged toward my best friend. Gritted teeth vibrating and bones aching, I thrust my hand out, fingers twisting in an arcane gesture. Gaius stopped, eye sockets widening in what might have been fear. Whatever the emotion, he took a step back, hands out to his sides.
Vampires, at least the ones with any survival instinct, are terrified of fire. For good reason. As vampires age, they shrivel up, like a dry, mummified, prune-like husk. It’s why older vamps lack the softer bits, losing ears, eyes, and nose. Those are always the first to go. It’s also why they light up like a torch.
Good thing I was a wisp princess with the ability to create the occasional fireball and, with the help of a ley line or two, a controlled wall of flame. Control of course was key. The last thing I needed was to save Jinx only to burn down our home and business. Was Sparky awake yet? Would fire harm a baby demon?
My stomach clenched and I let go of the ley lines and sent the wall of flame back where it came from. Sweat beaded on my upper lip, but since Gaius’ shriveled lips were still covered in pink-tinged froth, I didn’t worry too much about it.
I also forced my hands away from my ribs where I was pretty sure I’d torn open an old injury. A lamia, Ceff ex-wife, had left a mass of scar tissue there when she’d sunk her venomous fangs into my flank and tried to kill me. The wound had healed but left a weak spot. Not that I had time for physical weak spots at the moment. Gaius was starting to twitch and his head snapped over to growl at Jinx who was still reaching for her crossbow.
“Touch her and I will burn you to ash, hoover you, leave you in a vacuum bag for all eternity, and you will never find out who’s stealing your bloody corpses,” I said.
“Who said they were bloody?” he asked.
Good, his attention was on me. I gave Jinx the slightest wave of my hand, hoping she’d put her desk, and her crossbow, between her and Gaius.
“It was a turn of phrase,” I said.
“So, you will take the case, little corpse candle?” he asked. “You will discover who is using necromancy to raise sesquithialchthiliadians from the pet cemetery and encroaching on my harvesting rights…”
He was getting agitated again, and I did not want a repeat of our showdown. I didn’t think I could pull from a ley line again today, not yet anyway, and I didn’t think I could stake Gaius before he tore off my head. That would leave Jinx on her own. So, I did the only thing that I could.
“I’ll take the case,” I said.
“Swear it,” he said.
Gaius was a smart bastard. Damn him to hell.
“I swear it,” I said.
I gasped, the faerie bargain settling like a lead weight on my shoulders. I blinked rapidly, but with a flash of fang and a final muttering about harvesting rights, Gaius was gone.
A papyrus scroll dropped to the floor and pink dust hung in the air. The bloody dust motes were a disgusting reminder of the vampire’s anger.
I shoved two earplugs up my nose faster than you can say, vision from hell. At least faerie-fast reflexes were good for something. Jinx was slower, but her solution was even better. She tossed me a dust mask, the disposable kind, and ran for the vacuum.
Chapter 4
Grave robbing is Harborsmouth’s second best-kept secret. The first is the existence of supernatural creatures that live alongside the city’s humans. In fact, the dirtiest little secret of all might be the truth behind most of those empty graves.
Most supernaturals eke out a pretty mundane existence. We go to work and, on a good week, we pay the bills that keep the lights on and a roof over our heads. Nobody wants a return to the Burning Times.
Well, nobody sane.
The creature that was stealing the more odiferous of Harborsmouth’s citizens from their graves had to be crazy.
Sir Gaius, ruler of the local vamps, owned the harvesting rights to every corpse buried within the city limits. No one touched the vampire master of the city’s property without permission and lived to scream about it—until now.
But some supernaturals, especially the older more feral vampires and malicious, carnivorous faeries, don’t stick to the rules that keep us one step ahead of a potential war.
I shivered. War. That one word thrust images unbidden into my mind, nightmarish landscapes filled with the fallen, the doomed, the damned. If war broke out between the supernaturals and humans, the streets of Harborsmouth would run red—and blue, black, purple, and green—with the blood of innocents.
Worse, I knew that war was on the horizon.
Our friend Jenna Lehane and our new ally Master Janus of the Hunters’ Guild had both warned of an inevitable war brewing between those extremist supernaturals and the humans they viewed as food. According to Jenna, the anarchist vampires and faeries were amassing power by stealing arcane artifacts and religious relics from around the globe. Jenna and her team were tasked with thwarting those thefts, at times even performing thrilling heists to take possession of the power items before our enemies, but it would take more than the Hunters’ Guild to stop this war.
And over all my nightmarish imaginings of what that war would bring, stood the figure of a goddess of old. For no matter who won the battle, The Morrigan is always the victor in war. Like the raptors and the carrion birds of which she could take the form of, The Morrigan thrived on death and the corpses of the fallen.
“Zombie gerbils,” Jinx said, dispell
ing all thoughts of The Morrigan.
“Um, what?” I asked.
Oh, right. The inciting incident that might bring about our doom. Someone, or something, had used a form of sorcery to raise a bunch of gerbil-like fae from a local pet cemetery. When I pictured the end of the world, that was one scenario I never even considered.
“Zombie gerbils,” Jinx said, shaking her head.
She wasn’t the only one. Now that Gaius was gone and the worst of his stink removed from our office, his words were starting to sink in.
“I guess we could call them zombie faeries that look like gerbils, but, yeah, zombie gerbils,” I said. “It’s a hell of a lot easier to say, and explain, than reanimated sesquithialchthiliadians.”
“We almost died because of zombie gerbils,” she said.
“Well, to be fair, Gaius was pissed about someone stealing the corpses,” I said. “I’m not so sure he even cares that there are zombie gerbils running around the city.”
“HARVESTING RIGHTS,” Jinx intoned with her nose in the air, holding the pose until she dissolved into a fit of giggles.
“Gross,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Mega gag,” she said, wiping her eyes between giggles. “We almost died.”
“Over an Oberon-be-damned pet cemetery,” I said, biting my lip.
I tried not to laugh, but Jinx’s giggling was contagious. It took me a few minutes to get my breathing under control.
“How did faeries end up in a pet cemetery?” Jinx asked.
Now that was a sobering thought.
“That’s a good question,” I said. “I’ll find out. If someone is enslaving fae as exotic pets, we need to stop them.”
“After we catch the zombie gerbils and find whoever dug them up, stealing them from Gaius,” she said.
“After catching zombie gerbils,” I muttered, rubbing a gloved hand over my face. “How is this my life?”
“You love it and you know it,” she said.
“True that,” I said.
“Weirdo,” she said.
“Also true,” I said with a shrug.
“Want some coffee before your great gerbil hunt?” she asked.
I grinned from ear to ear. After a week of rain, the sun was shining. I had a case that paid well and probably wouldn’t kill me, and my best friend was offering me coffee. Maybe, this was a good day after all.
“Hell, yes,” I said.
“Good,” she said with a wink. “Before you leave, I need you go over Gaius’ contract. We might even want to consult a professional before you sign.”
Jinx blushed, eyes going dreamy, and I knew exactly who she thought we should consult. So much for my good day.
Chapter 5
I’d come around to the idea of my best friend dating a demon attorney, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed listening to Forneus drone on about legal terminology and contract loopholes as if they were the most fascinating thing ever.
Forneus was insisting we make changes, in blood, before signing Gaius’ contract. I’d already agreed to take the case, to find out who was encroaching on the master vampires harvesting rights. That bargain sat heavy on me, giving me a headache. I needed to get moving.
But Forneus was right. I had agreed to take the case, and of course I needed to find out who was stealing corpses in my city, but blindly signing a contract with the undead was foolish at best.
It didn’t help that Benmore showed up in the middle of our discussion, impatiently asking for the signed contract. Benmore might be mayor of the city, but we all knew who ruled Harborsmouth’s supernatural underbelly. The dwarf was little more than Gaius’ errand boy, something I continued to tell myself as I tried repeatedly not to shoot, or stab, the messenger.
“You’ll the get the contract when we’re good and ready,” I grumbled.
“But, m’lady,” Benmore said.
“Not one second sooner,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
It was all I could do not to bare my teeth, but, just as I could claim a flash of fang was a threat to my vassal, Gaius could take the gesture as a direct threat. That was a complication we didn’t need.
Benmore’s beard twitched in frustration, and I turned back to Forneus with a growl. To say I was grouchy was an understatement. The morning sunbeams promising fair weather had been a lie. The renewed rainstorm was a bad omen that set my teeth on edge. The incessant drip-drip-plop of water into the bucket behind my desk was also a constant reminder of our current financial crisis.
We were running Private Eye on a flea market shoestring that had seen more secondhand stores than a stack of TV Guides. We’d recently more than doubled the number of mouths we had to feed and now, after a week of nonstop rain, our roof was leaking.
And don’t even get me started on the estimated cost of our upcoming double wedding. Oberon’s eyes. How did I get talked into a big wedding? Ceff and I should have eloped.
Drip-drip-plop.
My shoulders hunched and I gripped the pen so tight I could feel the crack of plastic through my heavy leather gloves. We needed the money, but nothing good ever came of working for vampires, not when they insisted on Byzantine legal contracts.
I eyed the papyrus scroll as if it were about to turn into a spider, or a venomous snake like the vampire who penned it—with blood, of course, because vampires.
Vampires are devious, diabolical, and have a penchant for drama. Oh, yeah, they were also creepy as hell and ruined my office furniture. Too bad they owned most of the city’s real estate and, apparently, its dead.
“How do these harvesting rights work exactly?” I asked, ignoring Benmore and his angrily twitching beard.
“My liege has clearly stated…,” Benmore said.
I cut him off with a gesture so sharp it could cut through iron. Not that I’d be touching iron these days. Just one more thing I was grumpy about.
“I want to hear Forneus’ take on this,” I said. Forneus preened and Jinx smiled at me, and I sighed. “Don’t let it go to your heads.”
We’d called in an expert. He was a demon attorney with a knack for contracts, whether they involved souls or not. He was also my best friend’s fiancé. My life had gone from weird to OH MY GOD FAIRY TALES ARE TRUE in the span of a year. And now here I was asking advice from the very demon who’d given us the Mab-be-damned case that had started it all.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, fending off a whopper of a headache.
“Forneus?” I asked, waving a hand. “Today would be nice. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a case to solve and a roof to fix.”
“The short version, baby,” Jinx said.
“Yes, my love,” he said, kissing her hand. “As you wish.”
“Today?” I asked.
Benmore fidgeted with his pocket watch and nodded anxiously.
“Fine, the short version is that Sir Gaius owns every corpse buried within the city limits,” Forneus said. “While I could go on at length with theories as to why he might need such raw materials for constructing ghouls or creating new vampires, the fact remains that no matter his reasons, he owns the physical bodies of our dead.”
“Not the souls,” I said.
“No,” Forneus said. “That is more my domain.”
I frowned but I was determined not to get distracted. Forneus and I could have that conversation later. And make no mistake, there would be a discussion.
“And there’s nothing in there about him raising zombies, or anyone raising zombies,” I said.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. With the exception of the bodies raised when the Danse Macabre had been combined with a rare item from Hell, I wasn’t aware that zombies even existed in real life. I’d always thought of them as a figment from my nightmares, the boogey man hiding the bed.
“No, as far as I’m aware, that type of necromancy is frowned upon,” he said.
“And it’s not really the issue here,” I said, the pieces sliding into place. “Not for Gaius.”
&nb
sp; “If it was, I believe the vampire master would have participated more directly in taking down The Piper,” he said, echoing my own thoughts. “I would wager that he did not care about the animation of those corpses because The Piper never removed them from their burial grounds.”
“Only made them dance and tormented fae children in the process,” I said, crushing another pen.
“Precisely,” he said.
“Fine,” I said, nodding to Forneus. “Make any necessary changes to cover my butt legally, and make sure my bargain is fulfilled once I find out who is encroaching on his harvesting rights.”
“You’ll need to inform Gaius personally,” he said.
“Will a phone call count?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Good,” I said. “Just show me where to sign. This bargain is giving me a headache.”
To his credit, Forneus had the final contract in front of me within the hour. I’m pretty sure that was a new record.
“You will need to sign in blood,” Forneus said. “But I recommend you do not touch the parchment. I made addendums, but this page is the original.”
And had been touched by an ancient vampire. Got it. I drew a dagger from my boot, pierced the pad of my thumb, and squeezed a few drops of blood onto document. I used a piece of a broken pen to sign my name, smearing my blood in a disgusting mockery of my signature. I swallowed hard and tossed the pen in the trash with a mental note to take the bin out in the alley and set it on fire.
“Are we done?” I asked.
“Yes,” Forneus said, turning to Gaius’ emissary. “Here you are, Benmore. Make haste.”
“Aye, of course, haste indeed,” the dwarf said, grabbing the contract.
Benmore backed out the door, bowing and thanking me as he went. If I heard someone call me “m’lady” one more time, I’d scream, or burn something, or stab someone.
But I’d kept my composure, as much as I’m able, remaining professional until the dwarf and Gaius’ bloody contract was well out of my office. Then I turned to see my best friend and her betrothed making out against the file cabinets.