Priestess Dreaming (An Otherworld Novel)

by Yasmine Galenorn

  Before an arsonist had torched it, the Wayfarer Bar & Grill’s kitchen was barely passable. The cook had managed a few simple things like fries and burgers, or grilled cheese, or cold sandwiches—standard dive food. It had been filling but nothing to write home about.

  But during renovations, Menolly had consulted with the architect and they’d redesigned the entire joint. She had commandeered the upper floor and ditched her attempts to turn into a bed-and-breakfast. Instead, they’d relocated the kitchen upstairs, added an elevator, and revamped the staircase to make it user-friendly. A dumbwaiter and intercom system completed the cooking arrangements. They’d gutted two of the bedrooms in order to create a large private meeting room, to be rented out as needed.

  “Are you going to miss having a bed-and-breakfast?” I glanced around. While the outside of the building looked the same—red brick, old, and historic—inside, the Wayfarer had a far different feel than when we’d first came Earthside and Menolly had started working as a bartender for her cover job.

  “No, I don’t think so. I barely had one, anyway. The bar had its charms, but now it’s my vision, through and through.” She glanced around, a satisfied look on her face. “As painful as the fire was, at least I was able to rebuild and put my own stamp on it.”

  She bit her lip, drawing a drop of blood with her fangs. That they were showing told me she was stressed. Unlike me, vampires had retractable fangs. I knew she was thinking about the people who had been lost during the fire but I said nothing, no use scraping an open wound.

  The walls were covered with postcards and wine labels, the bar was polished to a high sheen, as were the barstools. Two large tables that seated up to ten people each took center stage. The booths had been rebuilt, their upholstery now a supple black leather. All the tables on the floor were new, the wood was a deep mahogany, rich and warm.

  Menolly had asked the contractor to build a dance floor and, to replace the antique jukebox, she’d installed satellite radio. Two large-screen televisions were mounted on the side wall of the bar itself for the sports freaks who occasionally came in—she kept the sound off, but they were continually running two different games.

  But despite all of the Earthside trappings everywhere I looked, I could see touches from Otherworld, giving the Wayfarer an exotic feel. Star crystals from the mines of the Nebulveori Mountains. Woven lattice tapestries from the shores of Terial, the Eastern Port on the Mirami Ocean. And sandcast urns holding dried flowers, potted from the dunes of the Sandwhistle Desert. The Wayfarer Bar & Grill had become a beautiful hybrid between the two worlds.

  “Well, I approve of the kitchen. I approve of anything to do with food.” I reached out and ran my hand along the red brick of the wall. There was a lot of red brick in this building and together with the warm wood and muted lighting, it gave the bar a cave-like feeling, but in a cozy, protected manner.

  Menolly sobered. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think that I could rebuild as a bed-and-breakfast, given the fire was set in one of the bedrooms. No matter how much people say the deaths weren’t my fault, I’ll never be able to forget.” She gave a quick nod toward the new waitress. “I just hope she works out.”

  I followed her gaze. Jenny, an FBH—full-blooded human. Camille had met her at Broom Stix, a magic shop, and Jenny had taken Chrysandra’s place as head waitress. She was a good worker, eager to learn, and just as eager to be out of her stepmother’s store.

  “She’ll do a good job. She’s sincere. But I’m surprised you hired another FBH, given Chrysandra . . .” I stopped at the stricken look on my sister’s face. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t think.” Great, I was just making things worse. I had a knack for opening mouth, inserting foot.

  After a moment, Menolly shrugged. “What can I say? Her death will always weigh heavy on my shoulders. Especially, the end.” She flinched. Chrysandra’s end had been rough and Menolly had played a part in releasing her the only way she knew how. “But you’re right, Jenny will do a good job. She’s smart, personable, and sassy enough to handle the customers we get. The vamp crowd will love her.” She glanced at the clock. “So when does the birthday girl arrive?”

  “Camille and Smoky are supposed to be here in about ten minutes. Smoky said he’d have her here right before the opening. They’ll come in the back, so the crowd out front doesn’t swarm in behind them.” I grinned. “You have a fan club waiting, you know.” I jerked my finger toward the front of the building.

  “I’m surprised anybody’s showing up, considering how many people died during the fire. Final count . . . twenty-five deaths, including vampires.” Again, the haunted look.

  I wanted to wipe away the memory, wipe away the guilt I knew Menolly felt, but there was nothing I could do. Only time would help her sort out everything that happened.

  So, instead, I forced a bright smile. “I’m not surprised in the least. People love this place. And they love you.” I reached out, patted her hand. The coldness of her skin had ceased to bother me. She was just my sister now, even if she was a vampire.

  I wasn’t lying. There was a crowd out front. A number of vamps—I assumed they were vampires by their pallor—had shown up to show their support for the Wayfarer and my sister. There were also a number of Weres and Fae out there. All in all, there must have been fifty people outside, waiting in the rain-soaked January evening.

  But tonight was more than the reopening. Tonight, we’d planned a special surprise. It was also Camille’s birthday. Smoky had volunteered to keep her occupied until we were ready for her, while the rest of us decked out the bar for both the reopening and her party.

  “I’m not so sure about this, Delilah. You know Camille isn’t much on surprises. You think we can pull this off without a hitch, given our track record?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I know our parties kind of suck, but at least this time nobody’s hired a stripper.”

  It was sadly true. We seldom had people begging us to throw another shindig. But it was also true that, at least this time, there was no stripper in a fringed G-string for me to attack as my fluffy-butt tabby self. Although the balloons were mesmerizing, I could keep a handle on myself unless the ribbons were left dangling. Then all bets were off. Candy in front of the baby time.

  Shade sidled up to me and slid one arm around my waist. He nuzzled my neck and I planted a kiss on his cheek. We were officially beyond the honeymoon stage, and had been together almost a year and a half by this point. But as I leaned my head against his side, the warmth of his musky scent quickened my pulse. I’d rapidly fallen in love with him—and it was the kind of love I’d never experienced before we met. He was loving and funny, and sexy in that easy, comfortable way.

  Shade reached into his pocket for something, but at that moment, Jenny came scurrying out from the back.

  “Your sister is here.” Her eyes were wide. Camille had cowed her at one point, and she still seemed to be scared of her.

  “Thanks, we’ll take it from here. You go ahead and finish checking all the booths and tables to make sure everything is ready.” Menolly jumped off the bar. She glanced around. “Everybody here?”

  I counted. Trillian and Morio were in the corner—Camille’s other husbands. She had three of them and they were all very happy together, if at times a little loud.

  Vanzir—a dream-chaser demon—and Roz—an incubus—were playing darts together. We called them the demon twins. Hanna, our housekeeper from the Northlands, and Maggie, our baby calico gargoyle, were sitting at a table with Iris and Bruce.

  Nerissa—Menolly’s wife—carried the cake down from the kitchen. She set it on one of the large tables. Everybody was here tonight, including Erin, Menolly’s middle-aged “daughter,” Roman, the son of the vampire queen, and Chase, the FBH detective who had become part of our extended family. Even Mistletoe and Feddrah-Dahns had traveled over from Otherworld for the party, though having a unicorn at any function was always problematic.

  “Yep, looks like we’re good to go.�
� I motioned to Jenny. “Ask Smoky to bring her in.”

  Whatever excuse the dragon had made for keeping our sister out of the way appeared to have worked. Menolly doused the lights and, a moment later, a rustle told us they’d entered the room. But as she flicked the lights on again and we all yelled “Surprise,” we found ourselves shouting and throwing confetti at one very nervous toadsquatter.

  “Ah, hell!” Menolly’s fangs came down and she launched herself forward, but just then Camille and Smoky followed the creature through the door.

  “Stop!” Camille grabbed the arm of the toadsquatter, yanking him out of the way. The squat goblin-like figure let out a shriek and hissed at her. “Shut up, you little weasel.” She swatted his nose as Smoky loomed up behind her, all six-foot-four of him.

  “What the fuck?” Menolly pulled back. “What’s that doing in my bar?”

  A whiff of the toadsquatter’s stench hit me and I grimaced. Lovely. Cross a patch of skunk cabbage with a lumberjack who’s gone a week without showering and that’s pretty much what the creature smelled like. My stomach shifted just enough to make me wish we were another three yards apart from each other.

  Derrick Means, Menolly’s bartender and a werebadger, stared at the thing with a horrified look on his face. He leaned over to me and asked, “What the hell is that? It looks like a goblin that’s been squashed and deformed.”

  “Toadsquatter. From Otherworld. A mutant version of goblins. Goblins use them as slaves, and the toadsquatters hate them as much as we do. The little creeps aren’t blameless though—they can be nasty-tempered, fickle, and they’re all a pack of thieves.” Which begged the question: Why was one of them standing in the bar, and why had Camille protected him from Menolly?

  Derrick, whose pony tail was black streaked with white, shook his head. “Guess it’s no worse than some of the things we have over here. I bet you have no clue how many strange beasties we have running around the woods.”

  “I’ll bet you’re right.” I grinned at him. Derrick was usually pretty grumpy, but he was fair, honest, and respectful. And that was more than we got from a lot of the Earthside crowd, FBHs or Supes.

  Camille was trying to calm the toadsquatter, who was—by now—disturbingly close to tears. “Don’t upset him any more. He has important information for me, or so he says.”

  Menolly paused. “Information?”

  “We think he may know the name of the sorcerer who is tracking Camille.” Smoky glared at the toadsquatter, obviously not thrilled with this turn of events.

  Camille knelt down by the creature. Toadsquatters were about four feet high, and squat. And butt-ugly. “Listen, calm down. I warned you people would react this way, so chill out. I promised you that if your info was worth it, I’d give you a reward, didn’t I?”

  He nodded and, in a halting variant of the common tongue from Otherworld, said, “Yes, yes . . . You promised. You have to promise they won’t kill me, though.” He jerked his finger toward us. I’d say thumb, but since he had six or seven digits I wasn’t sure which stood in for what finger.

  “I promise.” Camille stared at the rest of us, and we slowly nodded our heads. None of us were too enthusiastic, though. While toadsquatters weren’t inherently evil like their brother race of goblins, they were sneaky and reminiscent of cockroaches—they might not do anything to you, but they were so nasty you just kind of wanted to squash them.

  She straightened up and looked around, her gaze falling on the cake. “Oh, hell—birthday party? For me?”

  “Yeah, but you kind of blew that one out of the water.” Menolly laughed. “Let’s get drinks started, Derrick. Camille—take that . . . thing . . . to my office. I don’t want my customers coming in here and finding him.”

  Camille grabbed the toadsquatter by the hand and started for the back.

  Menolly turned back to us. “Delilah, carry the presents to my office, please. We don’t want them to get stolen. It’s time for me to unlock the doors. Luckily, I ordered a gigantic cake—big enough for my patrons. But Jenny, would you set it out of sight till we’re done talking to that creature?”

  And with that flurry of orders, Menolly headed over to unlock the doors. I gathered up the presents, then paused, watching her as she inserted the key, and unlocked the Wayfarer for the first time in over two months since it had been destroyed by an arsonist.

  The crowds flooded in, swamping the staff. I headed for the back, presents safely in my arms, once it appeared that everything was going off without a hitch. Menolly motioned that she’d join us in a bit.

  The office had been expanded, and now we all managed to fit in it, albeit a little snugly. I set the gifts on the desk, and Camille walked over, looking at them. Smoky was holding the toadsquatter in place, his hand firmly on the creature’s head. The toadsquatter wasn’t moving, but neither did he look like he wanted to be here, and I didn’t blame him. He was in the middle of a group of people who could easily make mincemeat out of him and who wouldn’t mind doing so. His gaze darted toward the door.

  “Easy boy. You’re not going anywhere. Not yet. So, what’s your name?” Smoky asked.

  Shifty-eyes thought for a moment, then sighed. “Rataam.”

  “Well, Rataam, you can give us the information we’re looking for and leave here alive. However, if I discover that you’ve gone back to whoever you’ve been snooping for and ratted us out, I’ll personally track down your family and there will be no more little Rataam babies in the world. Do I make myself clear?” When Smoky played hardball, he didn’t hesitate to break heads.

  The toadsquatter gulped and nodded.

  Smoky let go of his head. “Tell us what you know, then. If it’s worth it, we’ll pay you for your knowledge.”

  Rataam ducked his squat head. He really did look very toad-like and for a moment I felt sorry for him. It was a scary thing to be surrounded by people who could pull you apart. I’d been there. But then, he let out a noise—I didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to—and his stench filled the room.

  “Oh dude, that’s nasty. Do you have to do that?” I blurted out the words before I could stop myself.

  Rataam scowled, but ignored me. Instead, he turned to Camille. “The sorcerer following you is named Iyonah.”

  Iyonah . . . we’d had a run in with the woman recently—or rather, Camille had. But none of us realized she was anything other than a blip on the radar of “potential issues.” That she was following Camille and out to kill her stepped up the whole game.

  Camille blanched. “Oh, fuck. I knew there was something about her! How do you know this? How do you even know about me?”

  “I only know about her because I was paid to find out. I never heard of you before my employer paid me to look into the matter.” Ratam shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

  I blinked. The fact that someone paid the toadsquatter to snoop into Camille’s life was unnerving. Apparently, Camille thought so, too, because she knelt beside him, pale and looking worried.

  “And who is your employer?” She took his hand in hers, unleashing her glamour, which immediately seemed to have a calming effect on the creature.

  He let out a long breath. “Promise you won’t tell them I told you?”

  She held up her hand. “On the Moon Mother’s honor.”

  Rataam scuffed his foot on the floor, then shrugged. “Raven Mother. She asked me to find out who was following you, and to warn you.”

  Startled, Camille withdrew her hand and stood up. Raven Mother could be bad news when she wanted to be. But for some reason, she’d decided to help us out. That didn’t mean we could trust her, though. Raven Mother was wily and cunning, and she had so many hidden agendas that our enemies looked like simpletons compared to her.

  Camille had been getting to know more about the Elemental than she ever wanted to know—she had no choice given the way events had been turning. As a result, Menolly and I’d been privy to a number of late-night conversations. Intrigue seemed to run rampant in the who
le Raven Mother-Triple Threat-Moon Mother triangle that was going on.

  “Did Raven Mother tell you why she wanted you to spy on me?” Camille’s eyes flashed—they were a vivid shade of violet, and now silver flecks appeared. No, she wasn’t happy, and her magic was rising.

  Rataam shook his head. “No, but she made it clear it was important. She threatened to destroy my family if I didn’t do what she asked.” He sounded disheartened and I instantly felt guilty for being so uncharitable toward him.

  Smoky and Camille looked at each other, and she slowly nodded. There was no real way of telling if he was lying, but odds were, Raven Mother hadn’t told him what Iyonah wanted. Her motives might be questionable, but she wasn’t stupid by any means.

  Smoky let out a grumpy sigh. “All right, we will pay you well, but only if you vow on your family’s life to keep your mouth shut about everything that’s happened. As long as you keep your bargain, we won’t tell Raven Mother that you told us it was she who hired you.” Smoky nodded to the door. “Come, I’ll take you to a portal where you can return to Otherworld immediately.”

  Camille kept her mouth shut until Smoky escorted the creature out. Then she let out a slow whistle. “I should have known Iyonah was up to no good. I think I did, I just didn’t realize she was after me.”

  Irritated that we had to focus on enemies, even on our birthdays, I shook my head and gave her a hug. “Well, we should be able to take care of the matter as long as she remains clueless to the fact that you know about her. We’ll go over there tomorrow.” I pointed to her presents. “Meanwhile, birthday party.”

  “You didn’t hire a stripper, did you?” She stared at me, pointedly.

  I blushed, but then swatted her playfully. “No, and I’m not going to turn into a cat and go lunging after the customers tonight, either. But, can you imagine Smoky walking into the room to find a guy jiggling his junk in your face?”

  Trillian meandered over, laughing. “Oh, I’d pay to see that.” He, Smoky, and Morio had a good-natured rivalry going on. While they were all married to Camille and she loved each of them with a passion, they still sparred at times. But when push came to shove, they had one anothers’ backs, and together they surrounded her with a ring of protection that sometimes chafed at her. I knew because the three of us didn’t have secrets.