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Shadow Hunt

Page 28

by Melissa F. Olson


  In many ways, the last eight months had been the best of my life, and Jesse was a huge part of that—not just as my boyfriend or lover, but as a partner in this bizarre . . . endeavor.

  “Well,” I said finally, “I don’t want to erase Jameson. Whatever I know about him, I’ll tell the baby, and it’d be nice if she can have some kind of relationship with this Diana.” I blew out a breath and gathered my courage. “So, yeah, Jameson is always going to be her father. But I was kind of hoping you would be her daddy.”

  Jesse’s face broke out into a smile of pure joy, and I felt my eyes fill with unexpected tears . . . something that was happening a lot these days. “I can’t give you your own biological child, you know,” I reminded him. His hand was still on my stomach, and I covered it with mine. “This is it for me.”

  He looked into my eyes and said softly, “This is it for me, too.”

  On the floor in front of the couch, the Batphone began buzzing. I tried to lean forward to pick it up, but, Jabba the Hut–style, I couldn’t reach. Jesse laughed and grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen. “It’s Kirsten,” he said, holding the phone to his ear. “This is Jesse.”

  He had taken over my cleanup work for the past three weeks, since I’d gotten too huge to do it myself. If the job was really bad, I would come along just to provide magic cancellation, but most of them had been easy for an ex-cop to handle. I called him my unpaid intern. Corry was also home for the holidays, if we needed extra assistance, but her I would pay.

  Jesse listened for a second, rolled his eyes, and nodded. “I’m on my way,” he told Kirsten, and hung up the phone.

  “Bad?” I asked. “You need me to come?”

  “Nah, just some witches who messed up a love spell again.”

  “Help me up before you go,” I commanded. “I gotta pee again.” I could stand up by myself—really—but it would take a pathetically long time.

  Jesse stood and reached both hands down, bracing himself to pull me up. I couldn’t really blame him for that one.

  I stood up, and at the same time felt something inside me loosen. Oh, shit, had I finally peed my pants? I looked down. “Uh, Jesse? I think you better call Corry to go on that job.”

  “Why?”

  “My water just broke.”

  Twenty-four miles away, at a mansion in Pasadena, Dashiell was straightening a portrait on the wall that had not, in fact, been crooked.

  “I don’t know when I last saw you this nervous,” Beatrice said behind him. She sounded amused—and a little worried. They had sent all the staff home for the night on full pay, claiming it was a Christmas gift. Generally they kept at least a few security guards, even on holidays, but Dashiell doubted they’d have any difficulty with attacks from outside the mansion. And if they came under attack from inside the mansion, well, no security guard in the world would help.

  When the doorbell rang, Beatrice started forward, but he rushed past her to answer it himself.

  The young woman on the doorstep wasn’t at all what he’d expected. She was young-looking and beautiful, which was fairly typical, but she had neon-green hair and wore a baggy red sweaterdress that disguised her figure. Layers and layers of costume-jewelry necklaces covered most of her chest. “Maven?” he said, not entirely sure.

  The young woman took off her large spectacles, shoving them into her handbag pocket. She smiled. “I’m glad we could finally do this.”

  Dashiell stepped aside. “Please come in.”

  They sat down in the living room, and he introduced her to Beatrice, who offered to call in a refreshment from the guesthouse in the back, but Maven declined. “I’d prefer no one knew I was here, at least not yet.” She looked around the mansion. “You have a beautiful home. Do you sweep it for bugs?”

  “Just this afternoon,” Dashiell assured her.

  She nodded and crossed her legs. “I’ll get right to the point, then. After you allowed Scarlett Bernard to fill me in on the Luparii attack last spring, I looked into the Luparii and their activities in Europe. They came very close to creating a new order.”

  “I know.” He had done his own investigation, in addition to the information from Aldric. The old witch had put all his bets on the Wild Hunt, allowing his best people to come to LA to participate. As a result, there were no strong leaders left to take over the organization after the Furious Host was wiped out. The Luparii group had limped along for a few months, but Dashiell had used Aldric’s information to make some calls to a few well-organized werewolf packs. The Luparii was now officially extinct.

  “Their methods were selfish and violent, but their motivations weren’t entirely without merit,” Maven went on. “The modern world has been changing quickly. As a result, the Old World has gotten out of control.”

  Suddenly Beatrice gasped, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth. Dashiell and Maven both looked at her. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I just realized . . . I saw a portrait of you once.”

  Maven smiled. “Not very flattering, is it?”

  Dashiell looked back and forth between them, missing something. Maven took pity on him. “I was born Gunhilda of Denmark, in the year 1020,” she told him. “I am the last surviving member of the Vampire Council.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in, and then she added, “And I believe it’s time for the council to rise again.”

  Acknowledgments

  This book was the culmination of many years of planning, and I’m so happy that you guys finally get to read it! Many thanks to the team at 47North for trusting me with this story line, especially my acquisitions editor, Adrienne, and my development editor, Angela, who always makes my books better. Thank you, also, to my husband and family for all their support and encouragement, and to all the LA friends who helped me with information or tagged along on my bizarre research outings: Mark Wheaton, Tracy Tong, Kate Maruyama, and Emma Hassan. If I’m forgetting anyone, I apologize; it’s late, and the book was due yesterday.

  As with many of my novels, Shadow Hunt features a lot of real-life locations, and I encourage you to check out Griffith Park and the LA River Center. The revitalization of the LA River is a fascinating project and you can learn more about it here: lariver.org. Legally, I cannot recommend you visit Sunken City, but if I allegedly were to ever go there, I would hypothetically tell you that it’s really frickin’ cool. As usual, I have taken a few liberties with location details in order to tell a better story in a reasonable amount of time. Any mistakes are mine and made with the best of intentions.

  Shadow Hunt is the end of an arc, but not the end of Scarlett’s story. I don’t believe your life ends when you have a baby, and I don’t see why Scarlett’s would, either. Look for her to pop up in future Boundary books and hopefully another trilogy of her own.

  About the Author

  Photo © 2017 Elizabeth Kraft

  Melissa F. Olson was raised in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, and studied film and literature at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. Melissa is the author of nine Old World novels for 47North as well as the Tor.com novella Nightshades and its two sequels. She lives in Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, two kids, two dogs, and two jittery chinchillas. Read more about her work and strange life at www.MelissaFOlson.com.

 

 

 


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