With Mindy, though? It was worth it.
She couldn’t understand why a male like Cam wouldn’t give her the time of day. She knew he was a Para—he never denied that he was, even if he didn’t go shouting from the rooftops that he was an Othersider—and, unless he was a shifter, there was no reason that he couldn’t at least go out for coffee with her.
Except there was. A big, honking reason.
Shifters never bothered with females unless they were their fated mates. No point, since their kind of paranormal couldn’t even get it up for anyone else and, like Dina always said, it was just wasting time. But Othersiders? They couldn’t bother with mortal females and it had nothing to do with what he had below the belt.
Cam had a cock. A perfectly functional one, thank you very much. But while—contrary to belief—masturbation wasn’t a sin, he couldn’t risk triggering the curse of the Othersiders by doing anything more than taking himself in hand to relieve the occasional need.
So no lying with mortal females (or males, if that was what you were into). No consummating a relationship. Honestly, Othersiders weren’t even supposed to have relationships.
And the biggie? No falling in love. Considering the alternative, it was better to live his admittedly lonely existence while waiting for his return ticket to the up above. Which was precisely why he thinned his lips and offered Mindy a curt nod before striding after Dina.
Hey. At least he had his auditor.
2
The invisible secretary
The feeling like he was being stripped naked beneath Mindy’s heavy-lidded gaze followed him. He could sense the continued heat of her stare zeroed in on his backside and clenched his jaw, acting as if he couldn’t. It was annoying, but what made it worse? Was that it paled in comparison to the earlier itch along his spine. Mindy set him off, just not as much as the faceless presence from before.
He didn’t like it, but he let it go.
As soon as he entered his space, shutting the door behind Dina, he exhaled roughly.
There. Much better.
Cam owned the whole three-floor, narrow building tucked between one of the Grayson post offices and a small art studio. He didn’t have a sign out front or any way to attract prospective clients. In his line of “work”, it wasn’t necessary. Those in need always found him.
He said owned, but it was more like borrowed. A decade ago, another one of the Fallen who made their home on the east coast had decided it was time to move on from Grayson. Through the network of auditors, Dina discovered he was willing to hand the lease over to any Othersider working toward becoming a true angel. Cam took it, with the promise that he’d do the same thing when he was ready to go.
His rooms were built on top of his office. On the bottom floor, along Main, Cam could meet anyone in need of his specialized services. Up top, he kept a bedroom, a kitchen, and a library that basically belonged to Dina. The stairs were hidden behind a door that appeared as a closet in the front room of the office. The door to the left led to the downstairs bathroom, while the one at the end of the hall opened to Cam’s actual office.
He wanted to be taken seriously so he left the desk in the entrance with its busted computer—off, so no soul knew that he accidentally, um, exploded it—and the half-dead ficus in the corner. The chair behind the desk was empty, and the most recent “out on break — head back and knock” sign was where he placed it. Any soul coming to see him about a job would assume they just missed his secretary leaving Cam to sit in his sanctuary in the back instead of on display out front.
A white lie, but a harmless one, so he hoped it didn’t count against him too badly. If he had any money, he might hire a secretary for real one day, but since he was only interested in earning points—like most Othersiders—he was almost perpetually broke. On the rare occasions that one of his clients insisted on paying, he immediately donated the funds to charity, forever trying to prove that he really, really was good.
No. Really.
Good thing for Dina. The auditors were like dragons in their way: they hoarded things. Books. Knowledge. Cat toys. Money. Whenever he needed to buy groceries, Dina would hop through one of her portals, disappearing into a slash in space, returning with a few carefully folded bills between her adorable little fangs. Always enough to keep him comfortable, without making him feel guilty.
Speaking of comfortable...
Once he let himself into his back office space, Cam removed his jacket. His t-shirt was woven specifically for Othersiders so that he could let his wings out without tearing through the fabric, but his jacket would be obliterated.
As soon as he was free, he braced himself. There was a pinch, a grunt, and then his wings were freed. A twelve-foot wingspan when they were fully stretched, the tips of his feathers brushed against the opposite sides of his cramped office.
Ah.
Much, much better.
Knock, knock.
Cam glanced at Dina. She was sprawled out on the upper tier of her elaborate cat tree in the corner of Cam’s office, a napkin with the remains of her second donut laid down in front of her.
When she didn’t even bother looking up from her breakfast, he climbed out of his seat and snapped his back, folding his wings. Considering he wasn’t expecting any soul, and he didn’t have any current jobs, he was better off hiding them. Most of those who came to his place did so because they knew exactly what he was and what he was capable of. But in the rare case that some soul pounded at his door without knowing he was one of the Fallen, no reason to spook them with his black beauties.
His jacket was slung over the back of his seat. He grabbed it, yanking it on. It was easier than disappearing his wings entirely, and less painful, too.
The knock sounded again, more hesitantly the second time.
“Are you going to get that?” asked Dina. With her mouth stuffed full of donut, it came out more like, “Aw oo onna ket dat?,” but Cam could understand her no matter what.
Now that he had her attention, he nodded back at her. “You expecting any soul?”
Dina didn’t bother with mortals since they couldn’t understand her, and her fellow auditors were able to use portal travel just like she could; they’d never have to knock. Another Othersider, though? It was possible.
Until she licked a glob of chocolate frosting off of her pointed chin and still managed to sound haughty as she said, “Not me, no.”
“Could be a client,” he mused, crossing the room with a little more pep in his step. He hadn’t had any soul come to ask him to take a job in more than a week, ever since he was asked to track down a missing pup for a heartbroken mortal child. It was an easy gig, and he returned Fido to the little girl within days. Definitely earned him a good amount of points, too, but he was itching for another challenge.
And, well, just itchy period. The strange sensation from earlier that morning had faded after he retreated to his ground-floor office. Now? As he reached for the doorknob, his wings trembled up against his back as he barely resisted the urge to turn around and use the nearest empty wall to scratch his sudden itch.
It was even worse than before. What the— how? How was that possible? And how could he make it stop?
Promising himself that he’d run out and get a backscratcher and hydrocortisone cream as soon as he could, Cam pulled the door open to find a woman waiting in his hallway, one arm hugging her waist while the other was lifted, hand folded into a small fist, hovering as if she was about to knock again.
A shiver tore down Cam’s spine, erasing the itch as suddenly as it came.
Whoa.
This woman. This… mortal? Cam was sure he’d never seen her before, yet… as unbelievable as it seemed, it was almost as if he knew her.
Only he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Still—
When she didn’t say anything, he took a moment to drink her in. She had wavy, light brown hair that fell past her shoulders, framing a face that was lovely in spite of the worry twisting her featu
res. Deep furrows etched her brow, dark purple shadows underlining a pair of rich, honey-colored eyes. As pretty as they were, Cam thought they seemed glassy. Tired. They darted to the side, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look him dead in the face.
Still quiet, only between his chill and her silence, it was becoming awkward.
He cleared his throat. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Because that’s what he did, Cam reminded himself. Help people. Earn points. Get a halo.
Ogling a female mortal? Not a good idea. Especially for an Othersider like him, it was—to put it bluntly—a fucking terrible idea… so why was he finding it nearly impossible to stop?
“Hi.” It wasn’t a whisper, but the word came out so softly, it could’ve fooled Cam. She swallowed, then raised her voice, though there was a strain to it that had Cam frowning. “I, uh, I saw the sign up front. I hope it’s okay that I just came back here and knocked.”
“No problem.” The female was still avoiding him. Cam… didn’t like that. Was she looking past him? Through him? Afraid of him? His frown deepened. “Something I can do for you? Since you’re here and all?”
“Right. Um, I mean, yes. At least, I hope so.” She shuddered out a breath. “Let me try again. My name is Avery, and I… I think I need your help.”
Those were the magic words right there. Forcing himself to look past his strange reaction to the mortal female, Cam pulled the door all the way open before moving away, gesturing for her to step inside with a wave of his hand.
She hesitated. He saw her gaze dart around, taking in his office.
He knew what she saw—or what she didn’t. Apart from his desk, the computer that he hadn’t quite short-circuited yet, his chair, and Dina’s cat tree, the room was bare. White walls were void of any personality. No pictures. No paintings. Not even a dartboard where he could pass the long hours hoping some soul would come and request his help.
His rooms upstairs weren’t that different. To Cam, his rooms were where he went to eat, maybe watch some TV, and go to sleep while his office was dedicated to his self-proclaimed job—if he could even call it a job when he never made a cent off of it.
When Cam wasn’t watching a flick upstairs—even though he was an Othersider, he was partial to the catalogue on Witchflix—or doing good deeds to override his buried urge toward chaos and mischief, he busied himself with flying. He loved to soar up above the city, so high that he could admit he understood why some of the more bigoted Paras referred to mortals as Ants while enjoying the knowledge that they couldn’t see him circling them like some kind of oversized vulture.
It was a trick of the Othersiders. Another way to adapt to life on the mortal plane. While he couldn’t hide his wings when they were fully released unless he tucked them into his back and covered them up, flying was different. As soon as Cam launched into the air, he could consciously decide to blend into his surroundings. Forget being a vulture. Othersiders in flight were more like chameleons, though it had to be a conscious decision. If he let his mind wander too far, he’d be visible. And, of course, there were the couple of seconds between launch and flight where a mortal looking in the right direction would spot him.
Cam had to be careful. Apart from a desire to keep too many of his neighbors from knowing the truth of exactly what he was, there were laws about an Othersider’s flight. They were restricted from heading into any registered airspace, and flying in certain cities was prohibited. Something about the imminent danger of the citizens below, from distraction or… actually, Cam had no clue, but it was the law.
Thank you, Claws Clause.
Of course, every time he inwardly told the ordinance to shove it, he lost a good chunk of points because he was technically breaking the law. But what did they expect? He was an Othersider. He had to fly. Even Dina understood. She begrudgingly mentioned the three points he lost every time he launched, but she didn’t nag. Telling Cam not to fly would be like telling Dina to give up her chocolate. It would never happen.
At the reminder of Dina’s obsession with the confection, he followed where the mortal—Avery, she said her name was Avery—was staring, surprised to realize that her attention was drawn to Dina.
And that it was the mortal’s turn to frown.
Cam tried not to let it irk him that Dina was worthy of eye contact while he could’ve been a fly on the wall for all the female cared. And it wasn’t like he cared… except he obviously did and wasn’t that something to think about?
“I’m sorry,” she said after a few moments of heavy silence, “but… is your cat supposed to be eating that?”
“It’s a donut. It’s fine.”
“I thought chocolate was bad for cats.”
For cats. Not auditors who looked like cats.
“Oh. Yeah. It is.”
“Then—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cam said, hoping that the mortal would drop it. Behind him, he could hear Dina’s muttered, “I’d like to see her take this donut away from me,” though the female would only notice the irate sounds of a ticked-off pussycat. “Dina’s... special.”
“I guess. I mean, she’s your cat, right? I’m sure you know best.”
Cam ignored his bullshit detector going off. The mortal obviously thought he was standing by while his cat poisoned herself with a chocolate frosted donut, but she wasn’t going to push it. Either she wasn’t as concerned as she appeared—and he doubted it because he could sense the concern mingled with exhaustion and worry oozing off of her—or she was desperate enough to overlook his seemingly cavalier attitude.
He was betting on the latter which meant that she was in trouble. She really did need his help.
Yes.
“You said you needed some help,” he prompted when her dark honey eyes strayed back to Dina. “You’ve come to the right place. What can I do for you?”
“Um, yeah.” Avery gave her head a clearing shake. “Sorry. I… it’s been rough, these last couple of days. I didn’t know what else to do, and then someone suggested that you might be able to help me and, well, here I am. It’s about my sister. She’s missing and I have to find her.”
Missing? Cam thought back to his last job. Fido was a golden retriever who escaped his backyard, so a little different than a missing mortal, but tracking Avery’s sister down would be the same in principle, right? Except… why would some soul send her his way? He wasn’t a cop. He would’ve figured that a missing female was definitely a job for the police. Unless it was too early to call them. Forty-eight hours, isn’t that how long you have to wait?
“How long has she been gone for?”
“Since Saturday night.”
It was Wednesday morning. “She’s going on eighty-four hours missing. What did the cops say?”
“The cops? Oh. Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Right. ‘Cause they don’t know. No one knows. Heather… my sister… she wouldn’t have wanted me to involve the cops. She’s heard about the Cage and even she wouldn’t want to send someone there.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that Heather’s not the most Para-friendly—no offense.”
So Avery knew Cam was a Para, huh? Ah, well. If some soul had sent her his way, they would’ve tipped her off. And he understood. Most mortals weren’t Para-friendly, and Cam knew that better than most.
He shrugged. “None taken.”
“Anyway, what can the cops really do? I’m pretty sure I know what happened to her, and the local cops won’t be any help chasing a Para—”
“So that’s why you brought up the Cage,” Cam said, interrupting. At her nod, he guessed, “Because she’s not just missing, is she? She’s been kidnapped by a paranormal.”
And didn’t that make things a little more interesting? Para on human crime was punished more harshly than any other type of crime in this new world. If the cops found out that Avery’s sister was targeted by a Para, the Para would be lucky to just get a cell in the Cage. An
d if the Slayer Society got involved? There wouldn’t even be enough left of the rogue Para to put in a Cage.
“I don’t know,” Avery confessed. “I mean, not for sure, so going to the police is just a bad idea all around. Or maybe I’m not thinking straight. I still can’t believe this is happening. Okay. Let me start at the beginning. You see, me and Heather, we share an apartment in Spring Valley.” When Cam didn’t react to the name, she started to explain. “It’s this small town about a half an hour, forty minutes from here—”
“I know where Spring Valley is,” Cam cut in. “It’s a human only town just outside of Grayson.”
“That’s right. It’s an Ant Farm,” Avery said, using the derogatory name for some of the closed communities where paranormals weren’t welcome, “but I grew up there. Can’t say I’m a fan, but Heather likes it and I can’t make rent without her.” She waved away the subject. “Not like any of that matters right now. Not really. Except it explains why the wolf prints shouldn’t have been there. He shouldn’t have been there. But he took her and I have to get her back.”
Yup. This was definitely getting more and more interesting.
“He? He who?”
“The feral shifter who came after Heather.”
Cam blinked.
Okay. Maybe too interesting.
3
Don’t forget the ice
“Shifter?” echoed Cam, completely stunned at this information.
“Interesting” went to “Huh?” in a heartbeat. What was Avery doing at his place? As soon as he figured he was dealing with a rogue paranormal, he expected that the Para would be another Othersider (though doubtful) or maybe a vampire. But a shifter? You didn’t go to an Othersider when you had a problem with a shifter. In Grayson, you only had one option—and Cam wasn’t it.
“And you’re coming here for help?” He sounded incredulous because he was incredulous. “What about the pack?”
True Angel: a Fallen Angel romance (Curse of the Othersiders Book 1) Page 2