Panther Prowling

by Yasmine Galenorn

“So Aslo is Fae, which means . . . silver will affect him? And bullets?”

  I knew what Chase was thinking. “Right. He can be hurt by bullets of any kind, and by weapons. He’s not a vampire, so we don’t need to aim for just the heart. But here’s the rub—we don’t know what powers Einar has. And the necromancer behind this? We have no clue what his background is.”

  “Not to interrupt but . . .” Camille cleared her throat. “A thought occurred to me. How do we know they aren’t lying? The ghosts, that is. Spirits do lie.”

  I stopped in mid-sentence. She was right. “Good catch. We don’t know if they were lying or telling the truth, do we?”

  “Seems to me like this whole mess is fucked up.” Morio grumbled. “I have to say, I think you’re making one big mistake.”

  “What do you mean?” Camille turned to him, looking confused.

  “I realize why you want to keep Chase out of it as much as possible, but not telling him everything about Daniel? Makes it harder for all of us to watch our tongues. I think he deserves to know.”

  Daniel glared at Morio, stiffening. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I just don’t want to blurt out something by accident.” Morio shook his head. “Too many people in the house know about you. We can’t all walk on tiptoe. Chase has had to walk plenty of fine lines. This is just one more case. But it puts him on an even footing.”

  Chase let out a grunt. “What if I don’t want to know?” But he was scuffing the floor with his foot, slowly dragging his shoe over the carpet. “I wish there was a way I could work for both sides—the OIA and the Seattle PD. That way I might have some sort of exemption. As it is, I’ve broken laws to the point of where I don’t even know what color hat I wear anymore. I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes, you do what you have to. I learned that from you girls.”

  Daniel abruptly stood, pacing the room. “Detective, it’s like this. I can tell you what the girls know, and you can try to arrest me. Or I can tell you what they know, and you can conveniently look the other way. They aren’t lying with what they said, but there’s a lot left unsaid.”

  Chase shook his head. “Don’t tell me now. Later maybe. After we’ve all had some sleep and a chance to think things over. Meanwhile, what’s the next step?”

  Camille stood up, stretching and yawning. “We have an appointment at eleven o’clock today that may shed some more light on the problem. We’ll know more after that, one way or another. Until then? Delilah, we should sleep.”

  Chase groaned, glancing at his watch. “I have to be at work in an hour anyway. I might as well fuel up with coffee and just go in. Can you drop me by the building? I can catch a ride home with Nerissa.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll drop you off. Daniel, do you feel safe staying alone?” I wearily dislodged myself from the sofa. “I have the feeling your ghosts weren’t out to get you, not like the creep that showed up at our place.”

  He warily nodded. “I’m not thrilled about the prospect, to be honest, but I’ll be fine. I’ll call you later today.”

  “We’ll let you know what we find out after we talk to Leif.” And with that, we headed back to the cars.

  We dropped Chase off at the FH-CSI headquarters and headed directly home. By 7:00 A.M., we were in bed. Smoky had covered the broken windows with sturdy tarps and had fires going in the fireplaces to warm up the place.

  Shade was still down at Iris’s, so I left him there. I wasn’t up to a heart-to-heart right now and we all needed our sleep. But I lay there, nervous and awake, every noise making me jump. Ten minutes later, Camille peeked in my bedroom.

  “Kitten? Come down to my room. The guys will sleep in the study. We can snuggle together.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of bed. I was about to protest, but she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and propelled me toward the door. “I know you’re worried about Shade. And frankly, I don’t want to leave you up here alone.”

  In her room, we crawled under the heavy quilt, and hand in hand, like we had long ago when we were little, we fell asleep as the sun rose behind the thick cloud cover.

  * * *

  Three hours later, we were up again. But thanks to what sleep we’d gotten before the devil-wraith invaded, and the heavy sleep we’d just had, we were reasonably awake. A heavy jolt of caffeine would fix the rest of it.

  Camille looked as pulled together as usual, but I just yanked on a tank top, jeans, my heavy denim jacket, and slapped on a little mascara and lip gloss. That was about as much as I cared about. By the time I got downstairs, Shade was sitting at the table, pensively staring into a coffee cup. Hanna waved us over to join him and brought over waffles and bacon.

  I sat down, not sure how to start.

  “We have to move, Delilah. We’ve got to be at Leif’s by eleven.” Camille cleared her throat, and sat down at the opposite end of the table to give us some space. She was gobbling through her waffle like a food shortage was coming, and she picked up a magazine, hiding behind it while we talked.

  Shade saved me the trouble of asking. “I know what happened.”

  I paused, a forkful of food on the way to my mouth. “You do?”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me.” A worried crease appeared across his forehead as he frowned. “I’m going home today. I need to find out just how extensive the damage was. I’ll try to be back before tonight. I wish you could come with me, but I really can’t take you. Not for what I need to do and where I need to visit. But I’ll be back.”

  “I love you.” Suddenly afraid he’d think I would throw him over just because of what had happened, I hurried to reassure him. “No matter what happens, I’m here. I’ll go with you if you want me to—you know that, right?” Just as suddenly, I stopped. The idea of me going with him to the Netherworld was ludicrous. His sister barely tolerated me, and I had no clue what kind of an environment he lived in while he was there.

  “Delilah, stop.” He took my hands and brought them to his lips, kissing them gently. “Everything . . . well, I’m not going to say everything will be all right, but it will be whatever it’s meant to be. I know you’re here for me, and I know you love me. I love you, too. And this . . . whatever this is, it’s not going to change that.”

  “Thank you . . . thank you for knowing that I have your back.” And at that moment, I realized that it was all real. I loved Shade; I knew we were meant to be together and I loved him with a passion that I had secretly been resisting. Whether it was my catlike nature to resist being held too closely, or just fear of what might happen, something had kept a thin layer of reserve there. But it all fell away as I stared into his eyes.

  He stood. “I should be going. Thank the gods I can still travel through the Ionyc Seas. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I just wanted to stay until you woke up so I could tell you where I was going.” Drawing me to my feet, he slipped his arms around my waist and I pressed my lips against his, hungry for him, and hurting for him at the same time. This had to be one of the hardest things he’d ever been through.

  Shade let go of me, then walked over to the center of the kitchen. Camille jumped up to give him a hug. “Be careful, dude. My sister needs you. So do all of us. You’re family, you know.”

  I could have blessed her for that. Shade brightened just enough to tell me that her words hit home. He knew that I loved him, but right now, it probably helped to know that he was important to the others and not just me.

  “Thanks . . . sis.” He smiled, grimly, as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Wish me luck.” And with that, he vanished.

  Camille and I finished our waffles and grabbed our coats. Smoky and the men were assessing the damage the devil-wraith had caused to the house, so we headed out on our own. Before we left, Camille called Daniel to see if he was okay and put him on speaker.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing else happened out of the ordinary.” He also mentio
ned he’d slept with his favorite gun by his side. “She’s a beauty. A Stalley Phoenix. Got her when I was in the ISA, same as my Stalley AR20-14 rifle. They’re top of the line, or were when I was in there. For all I know, they may have switched, but to be honest, I don’t know why they would.” He sounded like he was talking about a couple of girlfriends—there was a life and lift to his voice we didn’t normally hear.

  “Nice.” I tried to force false enthusiasm into my voice. Trouble was, all the bullets in the world wouldn’t do any good against a devil-wraith. But Daniel needed his crutch, just like we needed ours. Because sometimes false security was the only roadblock to feeling overwhelmed with fear.

  “Ready?” Camille pulled out her keys. “I’ll drive.”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go see if we can convince Leif to tell us what he knows. And if he doesn’t, turn on the glamour. We need as much info as we can gather, and right now, I don’t care how the hell we get it.”

  Chapter 13

  Leif lived in an exclusive area, all right. The Vista View Towers were in Kirkland. Waterfront property, the complex was firmly in the sky-high price range. Daniel lived in luxury. Leif took it to a new level.

  As we gazed up at the twenty-two-story building gleaming chrome and glass, I couldn’t help feeling a brief moment of envy. I didn’t care about his money—we had plenty thanks to Shade, Smoky, and what our business brought in. But suddenly, the ability to live in a place where ghosts didn’t move in, rip up the joint, and camp out seemed delightful. Of course, that was an illusion. Leif had had a ghost living in his place. Whether or not he was aware of that fact, we were about to find out.

  “You ready for this?” Camille asked. She was dressed in a chiffon skirt, black leather bustier, and a brilliant purple sash-belt. Her stilettos made me wince—they had five-inch heels and one-inch platforms. If we needed to use glamour on Leif, she definitely would have the edge. I had worn a pair of low-rider black jeans, a gold turtleneck, and I’d dug out a bronze belt that matched nicely. While there’s no way either one of us looked like we belonged here, at least we looked good enough to pass.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” We headed toward the front doors.

  There, the doorman ushered us through to the lobby with a once-over that made me feel both judged and yet leered at. But he didn’t try to stop us. This wasn’t quite the same security setup as Daniel’s complex, which had seemed aimed at the gated-community crowd.

  Vista View Towers resembled a five-star hotel. There was a front desk, a concierge, and the complex included a Starbucks, a deli market, and a bar in the lobby. We stopped by Starbucks and Camille grabbed a venti quad shot caramel latte, while I opted for a chai tea with extra cream. Fortified with caffeine, we headed up the elevator to the top floor.

  Two penthouses took up the entire floor. Leif was in Unit 22-A. We paused outside the door. I gave Camille a look and she nodded, so I pushed the buzzer. The faint sound of the bell echoed through the door, and a moment later, it opened. A woman was standing there in a maid’s uniform. Thank gods it wasn’t the typical French maid’s fantasy fodder outfit, or I would have laughed out loud.

  “May I help you?”

  “Leif is expecting us. Camille and Delilah D’Artigo.” Camille smiled graciously at her.

  The woman hesitantly smiled back. “Please, come in.” She led us into a hallway that opened into a wide living room, but before we reached there, she ushered us into what seemed like a small parlor, off to the right. I had the feeling we were in the waiting room, so to speak.

  “I’ll notify Mr. Engberg you’re here. Please, make yourself comfortable. Coasters are on the coffee table.” And then she vanished, shutting the door behind her.

  I glanced around. The room was exquisitely furnished—the best leather sofa, perfectly polished end tables, a handwoven rug that looked like it belonged on the wall instead of the floor. The art on the walls was original, and it looked deceptively simple. Which no doubt meant that it was horribly expensive. But something felt off.

  “You know”—I looked around—“there’s nothing in here to give the place personality. It feels like a showroom in some upscale furniture store.”

  Camille gingerly leaned back on the sofa. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t know that anybody lived here. The art fits the room, the décor is spot-on . . . but it feels sterile. Even the plants look too cultivated and perfect.”

  The door opened at that moment. A man, about five-ten, with short curly blond hair and a lean, toned physique stepped into the room. He was wearing jeans that looked so stiff and new, I couldn’t help wondering how uncomfortable they were, and a white polo shirt. It had some sort of emblem on the pocket, but I couldn’t tell what from where I was sitting, and frankly, I wasn’t that interested in finding out. A bandage covered the left side of his forehead, and he had a black eye that looked extraordinarily painful.

  “Hello, ladies, I’m Leif Engberg.” Leif held out his hand and I shook it, then Camille. He motioned for us to follow him. “Come on in the living room. Would you like something? A drink? Can I get you a glass of wine or anything stronger?”

  Blinking, I wondered just how many people drank in the morning. Apparently, our cousin Daniel and Leif were two of them.

  Camille shook her head. “Thank you, no.”

  The living room was three times the size of the parlor, and had a white carpet, black leather furniture, and a wall color that made beige seem interesting. Again, the art all matched the décor, and everything looked perfectly coordinated, but again, seemed sterile. The only thing that seemed out of place were the sterling silver sword hangers on the wall above the gas fireplace. The hangers were empty, and it was my guess that was where Leif’s family sword normally rested.

  Leif escorted us to the sofa, gesturing for us to sit down, the settled himself in a chair opposite. “What can I do for you, ladies? Have we met somewhere? Did I forget some fund-

  raiser I was supposed to attend?” His gaze was plastered on Camille. Yep, she was our ticket if he didn’t want to talk.

  I glanced at her, and she gave me a nod. We’d agreed—we’d be straightforward about this, as much as much as we could be.

  “Mr. Engberg—” Camille leaned forward, just enough so her breasts swelled over her corset.

  “Just Leif, please.”

  “All right. Leif, we’re here to ask you about the theft of your family’s heirloom sword. We have some difficult questions, they may seem odd, but it’s very important you work with us.”

  The look on his face was priceless. First, he blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from her boobs, but then a wariness entered his eyes. He knew something was up.

  “Family sword? I’m sure—”

  I spoke up. “Don’t. Just don’t. We know your sword was stolen—word gets around through the grapevine. I’m sure you did some checking on us after Camille made the appointment to see you last night. You probably know who we are.”

  Leif studied my face for a moment and the congenial society smile faded. “Right, so I did. I know you’re from Otherworld, I know you’re affiliated with the FH-CSI, and that you own businesses in Seattle. I also know there’s a lot of talk about the three of you. I gather your sister Menolly couldn’t make it because of her . . . nature.”

  I wondered if he knew about the connection between us and Daniel—that wasn’t exactly public knowledge at this point, but if one looked hard enough, they could find out. “You’re smart. You catch on fast. Yes, she’s in her lair. Vampires can’t walk during the daylight hours. Okay, to be blunt here: Leif, your family’s sword fell briefly into our hands the other night. We put it in a safe place, but someone stole it from us. We have reason to believe whoever stole the sword from us is a dangerous man, with dangerous plans.”

  Leif paled. “You don’t have the sword anymore, then?”

  “No. We need to
know exactly what you know about your family’s sword. We also need to know if you know who took it from you.” I wasn’t sure how much to ask at first, or how much to throw at him. “Please, Leif, tell us everything you know. We’ll tell you why, if you’re not already aware of the sword’s nature.”

  He stood, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked Lake Washington. We were right on the edge of the lake, and I imagined just how beautiful it could be here, especially with the mist rising, or during sunset when the sun vanished slowly below the horizon.

  After a moment, Leif turned around. “All my life, my father told me that the sword would one day be mine. He told me, ‘Leif, you can sell everything we own, you can sell your soul if you want to. But once you inherit the family legacy, you can never, ever sell that sword. It will remain with you till the day you die, and you will have a son to pass it down to. I don’t care if you have to marry a woman and pay her a fortune in alimony, you will have a son. Do you understand?’ And I’d nod, and wonder what the hell was so important about the damned thing.”

  “Did you ever find out?” Camille crossed her legs and leaned back against the leather cushion.

  The sofa was smooth and supple, and almost felt indecent when I ran my hand over it.

  Leif nodded. “I always knew it was haunted. And then, one morning, about a month before he died, my father came into my room. He told me he’d had a dream—a nightmare about dying. He wanted to make certain I understood that once he was gone, I had control over everything—except the sword. That it was my duty to protect and keep it safe. That I had a responsibility to father a son who would inherit it. I asked him if he believed in the family curse and he said that yes, he had seen the guardians of the sword on occasion, and he knew that if we ever lost it, not only would our family suffer, but a lot of other people, too.”

  Leif turned back to the window and leaned against it, staring out at the water. “I’m sure you know about its history. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Right?”