Dark Swan Bundle

by Richelle Mead

  I jerked my head in surprise, unable to attempt any sort of denial. I’d never technically lied to Kiyo about what had happened with Dorian, but seeing as we’d been broken up at the time, I’d never really felt the need to go into detail.

  “How do you…” I couldn’t finish the question.

  Kiyo gave me a rueful smile. “Dorian used to watch you like a starving man who wants meat. Now he looks at you like he wants seconds.”

  I didn’t say anything. No response came to mind.

  “It’s okay,” continued Kiyo almost amiably. “I know it happened when we were apart. What’s past is past—so long as it doesn’t mess with our present.”

  It was rather magnanimous of him, and I felt both grateful and guilty. “It’s in the past,” I agreed. “It has nothing to do with anything anymore.”

  The first shaman Roland had directed us to was a guy named Art. Like Roland and me, Art lived in his own piece of suburbia, in a large house that hardly looked like it belonged to someone who battled spirits and gentry. The sides were painted a sunny yellow, and the yard—which bore the signs of daily tending—was even ringed with a white picket fence. I could hear children playing down the street.

  In fact, Art himself was out in the yard, weeding flower beds as the afternoon light turned orange. I pegged his age around thirty or so. A red snake tattoo coiled around one of his arms while a stylized raven showed on the other. No doubt there were more under his shirt. He glanced up and smiled when we stopped beside him on the house’s sidewalk.

  “You must be Eugenie,” he said, standing up. He brushed dirt off his gloves and looked apologetic. “I’d shake hands, but…”

  I smiled back. “No problem. This is Kiyo.”

  The two men exchanged nods of greeting, and Art directed us around the side of the house. “Roland said you wanted to chat, right? How about we sit down in the back? Let me clean up, and I’ll go get us something to drink.”

  Kiyo and I followed his direction and found ourselves sitting at a cute, umbrella-covered table in a backyard even more lush than the front. Though a bit more humid, Yellow River’s climate wasn’t that far off from Tucson’s, so I could only imagine the amount of water and labor it took to maintain this greenery. A funny thought came to me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What?” asked Kiyo. He’d been watching a hummingbird dance around a red-flowered bush that flanked the house.

  “I was thinking I need Art to come do landscaping in the Thorn Land.”

  “I think that might blow your cover.”

  “Likely. I don’t even know if he crosses over very much.”

  “If he does, it’s probably only a matter of time before he finds out and tells Roland. Actually, it’s only a matter of time before anyone does that.”

  I made a face. Roland knew a lot of shamans, all around the country. “Yeah, I know.”

  Art stepped out through the back patio, gloves gone and a new shirt on. He set down a small cooler, carefully sliding the glass and its screen shut again. The drapes hanging on the other side of the patio were blue and purple watercolors laced with silvery threads that I envied after my own had been ripped up by a storm I’d inadvertently caused. Between his excellent décor and yard, I was feeling like a lame homeowner.

  He opened the cooler. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I brought some options.”

  The cooler revealed an assortment of pop and beer. Kiyo opted for the latter; I took the former. The hot summer afternoon had cooled down to a pleasant temperature, and the shadows cast by the trees helped too. The memory of the hot journey to Dorian’s was still with me, though, and I drank my Coke gratefully.

  “This is a great yard,” I said. “Wish I had the patience. Mine’s kind of a rock garden.”

  Art grinned, crinkling up the lines around his eyes. They were an azure blue that stood out against his sun-weathered skin. “But that’s fashionable up there, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, kind of. But there’s a fine line between a fashionable arrangement of sand and rocks, and, well…just a pile of sand and rocks.”

  He laughed again. “Well, I’m sure you have better things to do. Roland tells me you’re keeping busy now that he’s retired.”

  “‘Retired’ is a dubious term. It’s hard for him to sit still, knowing I’m out there doing business by myself.”

  “And I hear you’ve got some business questions to ask me?”

  Right to the point. I liked that. “You’ve got a big crossroads here.”

  “I do,” he agreed. “Keeps me busy.”

  “You get a lot of gentry crossing over?”

  He took a long sip of his beer and considered. “Well, there are always gentry crossing over.”

  “Has there been an unusual amount lately? Girls in particular?”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Not that I’ve noticed. Why do you ask?”

  “Following up on a job,” I said vaguely.

  “Women cross over all the time, of course,” he mused. “But men outnumber them. Seeing a surge would be noticeable. Most of my time lately has been spent on exorcisms.”

  I nodded. Until gentry and Otherworldly creatures had decided they wanted to father my child, spirits had made up the bulk of my business too. That was a normal shaman workload.

  “Sorry I can’t be of more help,” added Art kindly. I must have looked disappointed. “You should check with Abigail, though.”

  “She’s the other one here, right?”

  “Yup. We work together sometimes. Maybe she’s noticed something I haven’t.”

  I thanked Art for the info, and we spent the next hour or so chatting about assorted things. Art asked questions about Kiyo’s background. Roland could sense Kiyo’s Otherworldly nature, but Art’s blandly polite style made me suspect it wasn’t a talent he possessed. Art also wanted to know about my jobs, no doubt curious about my interest in gentry girls. I kept my answers vague, in no way coming close to the fact that I was protecting my subjects.

  After making our good-byes, we headed off to the second address Roland had given me. Abigail lived in an apartment in downtown Yellow River, very different from Art’s homey location. The downtown area was actually more thriving than I would have expected. Yellow River was a small town at the end of the day, but it still had an assortment of interesting shops and restaurants. Abigail’s apartment was above an antiques store, and we climbed two flights of rickety stairs to get to her. The mysterious, dusty nature of it all was much more in line with stereotypical shaman images.

  Indeed, when she answered the door, I suspected she would have met most people’s visions of a shaman. She was an older woman, gray hair styled into a long braid down her back. Her loose peasant blouse was patterned in mauve and yellow flowers, and crystal beads hung around her neck. She broke into a beatific smile when she saw us.

  “Eugenie! So nice to finally meet you.”

  She ushered us inside, and I introduced Kiyo. The apartment was beautifully constructed and nicer than its outside suggested—but cluttered with candles and assorted statuary. It made me feel better after Art’s immaculate home. The apartment was also filled with cats. I counted at least seven, and all of them looked up at Kiyo’s entrance. Four of them got up and rubbed against his legs.

  “You’ve certainly got a way with animals,” noted Abigail.

  “I’m a vet,” he explained, giving her a winning smile that tended to make women weak in the knees.

  Like Art, Abigail sat us down and forced beverages on us, this time in the form of herbal tea. We started with the usual small talk. Abigail was a big fan of Roland and couldn’t say enough nice things about the work he did. I couldn’t help feeling a little bit of stepdaughterly pride. When we finally got to the issue of gentry girls, though, Abigail didn’t have much more to offer than Art had.

  “Most of my work is actually along the lines of healing and spirit retrievals,” she explained. Spirit retrieval was itself a form of healing, often done whe
n some entity was plaguing a human in a possession sort of way. I’d done it a few times but was no expert. “I don’t do much in the way of casting out. That’s Art’s specialty, but that crossroads is so big that he sometimes gets more than he can handle. So, I help out every once in a while.”

  “But you haven’t noticed a surge of gentry girls?”

  Abigail shook her head, making the crystal beads click together. “No, but like I said, I’m not out in the field enough to say for sure. And gentry usually aren’t so difficult to cast out…. Art tends to handle those on his own and call me in for the entities that are harder for him to get rid of.” She gave me a rueful grin. “Neither of us is as strong as you or Roland.”

  I played with my tea bag, wondering how to parse this new information. Was my theory about gentry girls sneaking over here a total bust? Or were they being crafty enough to avoid detection? I usually ended up casting out gentry because they did something troubling that put them on my radar. Gentry girls slipping in among humans wouldn’t necessarily attract a lot of attention.

  We thanked Abigail when we finished our tea and left for our hotel. I’d booked one that sat just on the edge of town. As we walked toward where we’d parked my car on the street, Kiyo declared that he wanted to take it over to a gas station on the corner for both gas and air for the tires. I told him I would walk down there and meet him. I wanted to browse a few of the shops before we called it a night.

  Poking my head in the little stores gave me a chance to get my mind off the gentry girls and today’s disappointing intel. Most of the shops were what you’d expect for a small town. Antiques. Vintage clothing. Crafts. One, however, was a sex-toy shop, and I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows at that. It was surprising in this town. Equally surprising was that I went in and bought something.

  I met Kiyo at the gas station shortly thereafter. “Not much in the way of information,” he said as we drove out to the hotel.

  “Yeah. I want to check out the crossroads in the morning before we go.” That was the main reason I’d chosen to actually come out to Yellow River in person, rather than simply call with my questions. “If that doesn’t yield anything, we might just have to give this theory up.”

  Kiyo shook his head, a small smile curling his lovely lips. “I don’t know what to think of you sometimes. You’re so annoyed about this whole queen thing, yet here you are, going to a lot of trouble to help these girls.” We reached the hotel and found a parking spot. He turned off the car.

  “And let me guess. You want me to stay away from it all?”

  “Only inasmuch as it’ll keep you safe. But truthfully? What you’re doing is great.”

  The look he gave me showed just how great he thought it was—and how great he thought I was. There was admiration there in his eyes, underscored with something heated and dangerous and wonderful. I might make jokes about his animal intensity, but when channeled into sex and passion…well, there was nothing to laugh about. My whole body felt the heat of his gaze, every nerve coming to life.

  “Let’s go inside,” I said softly.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “No place I’d rather be.”

  His hands were on me as soon as we cleared the hotel room’s door, reminding me of the first night we’d spent together. He pushed me onto the bed, tearing off my clothes as he did. I wanted to sprawl right there and let him take me—but just barely had enough presence of mind to wriggle away.

  “Did you mean what you said earlier?” I asked, my breathing hard.

  His dark eyes were hungry and impatient. “If it gets the rest of your clothes off right now, then yes, I stand by whatever I said earlier.”

  “About expanding our horizons?”

  This gave him pause. “What did you have in mind?”

  I slipped away from him—no small feat—and produced my purse and the purchase I’d hidden in it: the bag from the sex-toy store. I pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Are you serious?” Kiyo asked, not sounding particularly opposed so much as curious.

  “That headboard’s got a nice spot to lock your wrists in.” I might dream of Dorian restraining me, but right now, it was the thought of me being Kiyo’s captor that aroused me.

  “Me?” This was a surprise to him too. He hesitated only a moment, though. There was desire and lust radiating from him, and while he might have preferred simply jumping in and having his way with me like usual, the bottom line was that he wanted me, period. One way or another. “Okay.”

  He pulled off the rest of his clothes and lay back against the bed’s covers, hands stretched up. I paused to admire his body, filled with such strength and power. After removing my own clothing, I leaned over him and fastened one wrist to the headboard. I heard his breath catch as I did, my breasts only a few inches from his face. His other hand immediately went out to my hip and ran up along the side of my body. I pulled away, out of reach.

  “Not allowed,” I warned. “You don’t get to call the shots here.”

  He gave me a saucy grin. Being tied down wasn’t in his nature, but he felt bolder with only one hand bound. He was still able to feel in control.

  “I’ve got another hand and two feet,” he pointed out.

  I smiled sweetly and reached back into the bag. I pulled out three more pairs of handcuffs. His smile faded to astonishment.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got it covered.”

  I made sure all his hands and feet were locked into place, putting him at my mercy and ensuring he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. And as I lowered my hips down near his face, spreading my thighs so that the warmth of his mouth and tongue had no choice but to lick and suck as long as I wanted, I felt smug satisfaction in knowing for certain that I would be the one who got off first tonight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kiyo took off as soon as we got back to Tucson, saying he had to go to work. He also added that I shouldn’t expect him later that night since he’d promised Maiwenn he’d come visit. Normally, that would have set my mood plummeting—and I won’t lie, I wasn’t thrilled as it was—but after last night, I felt superior and confident in my position with him at the moment. Somehow, I doubted he’d be looking at Maiwenn with the same awe he kept regarding me after I’d ridden him to exhaustion last night. If the crossroads in Yellow River—which we’d visited before heading out of town—had only yielded some answers this morning, I would have considered the trip a resounding success.

  “Nice of you to spend some time around here,” Tim told me when I emerged from the shower. As usual, he appeared to be cooking something.

  “What’s that?” I asked, watching him roll out dough.

  “Cinnamon rolls,” he replied. “The second batch I’ve had to make, thanks to someone raiding the kitchen while they cooled.” He shot a glare over in the direction of one of the dogs—Yang, I thought—lying under the table. Yang looked extremely pleased with himself.

  “Sorry,” I said, even though it wasn’t exactly my fault.

  Tim finished rolling out the dough and sprinkled the surface with a mixture of cinnamon and brown sugar. “And don’t think you’re going to change the subject about never being around.”

  I found a Coke in the refrigerator and sat down, a little irritated over the scolding. “Well, sorry you miss my company, but I don’t really see how it matters. Our deal is you live here rent-free in exchange for cooking and cleaning. Me not being here means you have less work. Besides, I’ve had things to do.”

  He scowled. “Yeah, I suppose. But do your ‘things’ actually involve your job—the one that gets the mortgage paid? Your secretary called last night and said you missed an appointment. And you know, dealing with her isn’t part of my rental agreement.”

  Despite having never met, Tim and my receptionist, Lara, had an antagonistic relationship over the phone. I had no time to give to their drama today, though. The other news was too startling. “I did what?”

  I took out my phone, which also doubled as
my planner. In addition to two missed calls from Lara, I discovered I had indeed missed an appointment for a banishing last night. I’d been so fixated on my quest in Yellow River that I’d totally forgotten I had it.

  “Shit,” I muttered, dialing Lara’s number. As keen as I was on these missing girls, Tim had a point—my human jobs paid the bills. Not the gentry ones.

  “What happened?” demanded Lara as soon as she answered. No hello.

  “I got distracted by something else,” I said. “I’m really sorry. You think we can reschedule? Give them a discount or something?”

  “Probably,” she conceded. “I mean, it’s not like they’ve got many other options to get rid of a ghost. In the meantime, though, I’ve got some other pending clients.”

  I hesitated. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about accepting as many jobs as I could. It was good for my bank account and a good deed for the world. With as much as the Otherworld was preoccupying me, however, I couldn’t afford losing the time right now—or possibly missing another appointment.

  “Reschedule the one I missed and book only one of the others. Tell the rest we have to wait-list them.”

  Lara was silent for several seconds. “Are you serious?”

  “Afraid so.”

  She sighed. “Okay. You can still pay my salary, though, right?”

  “Yes,” I laughed. “I haven’t gone bankrupt yet.”

  “Okay then.” She sounded only moderately pacified. “But for the record? Your roommate needs to learn some manners. He was a total asshole when I called last night.”

  Before we disconnected, Lara made sure to remind me about two jobs I had later that day. She wouldn’t get off the phone until I repeated the times and places back to her. I was just as eager to take care of them as she was, as sort of a mental retribution for the missed one from last night. I’d never forgotten a job before. My career might be an unusual one, but I still considered myself a professional and didn’t want to start falling into bad habits as a result of all this Thorn Queen business.