《Secret Santa (Secret McQueen #0)》 Page 1 Chapter One I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Literally. A wall of solid limestone was digging into my back, and in front was a vampire trying his hardest to shove me through it. His arm was on my neck, jutting my chin upwards and grinding my scalp against the jagged rock. I swatted at his arms, but he just laughed at me. ¡°Some assassin you are,¡± he mocked. Oh, so we were going to play it below the belt? I was an expert at that. I thrust my knee up, driving it into his groin, and when he dropped his arm from the surprise, I dug my heel into his foot before smashing my elbow across his face. There was an audible crack of grinding bone when I connected with the delicate tissue of his nose. Before he could respond¡ªand it was only a matter of time¡ªI bounded across the small space and looked for anything I could use to my advantage. ¡°Son of a bitch,¡± the vampire growled. ¡°Did you have to break my nose?¡± ¡°I thought this was no-holds-barred.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d play dirty.¡± I rose out of my fighting stance, lowering my fists, and walked over to the vampire, who was straightening the broken bones of his aquiline nose. ¡°You¡¯ll heal. Don¡¯t be such a pussy,¡± I taunted, but when he didn¡¯t rise to the jab, I put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Holden?¡± Holden Chancery, once my vampire liaison and council superior but now technically one of my flock, was crouched low to the ground, cupping his nose like a dramatic schoolgirl who¡¯d been struck by a dodgeball. I wanted to tease him some more, but I had to be sure he was ready for it. Since I¡¯d been promoted to a seat on the Tribunal, I now had to worry about stuff like undeads¡¯ feelings and the other day-to-day concerns of pulse-challenged Americans everywhere. ¡°I¡¯m sorr¡ª¡± He grabbed my extended arm, locked the elbow and swept his leg out to knock my feet from under me. I landed flat on my back with a loud thud, and the breath was forced out of my lungs. Holden jumped on me, sitting on my stomach with one leg on either side of my ribs and well out of reach of my knees. My arm was still extended, and he grabbed my fist as I was swinging for a punch. ¡°Hmm. This feels familiar,¡± he said. ¡°Who¡¯s playing dirty now?¡± Holden leaned in close so his face was only inches away. ¡°Do you want to play dirty?¡± A thrill rocketed through me, but I kept my breathing even and my pulse stayed level. His brown eyes were fixed on me, waiting for some sort of invitation. A not-insignificant part of me wanted to give it to him, especially knowing how magnificent his kisses were, but I wasn¡¯t free to indulge in what he was offering. So I headbutted him. He released his grip, and I squirmed out from under him and ran. He was hot on my heels, and when I was out of the tunnels I got as far as the winding stone staircase before he caught up with me. Strong arms locked on to my waist, and we both tumbled to the floor, where I narrowly avoided cracking my jaw on the bottom step. Before we had a chance to rise, someone grabbed Holden and someone else came to stand between us. The vampire warden blocking Holden from me had fixed my former handler with a hard stare. Holden, for his part, looked ready to kill the guard who was holding the sentry¡¯s arms behind his back. ¡°Wardens,¡± I snarled. ¡°Stand down.¡± The two guards looked at each other in silent debate over whether or not it was safe. I balled my hands on my hips and tried to look as menacing as a five-foot-four girl could. It was the power radiating off me that seemed to settle the matter for them. Holden was released, and the guards moved aside. ¡°Our apologies, Tribunal Leader Secret.¡± The title made my blood run cold. This new job was going to take a lot of getting used to. I no longer faded into the background of the vampire council. Now I was in charge of it. ¡°Chancery will escort me to my next location,¡± I instructed. ¡°I¡ª¡± One of the guards tried to argue, but I wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°Look, we both know Sig will have me followed regardless. There¡¯s no harm in the sentry walking with me.¡± The guards nodded, and Holden and I left the council headquarters without further incident. It was bad enough I¡¯d been taken off assassin duties, but now it seemed like I couldn¡¯t brawl in the confines of the council without getting someone in trouble. The building housing the council was in SoHo just off Green Street, and as luck would have it, my next meeting was only a few blocks south at Bloomingdale¡¯s. I tucked my arm through Holden¡¯s as we walked together in the chilly winter air. ¡°Thanks for the fight,¡± I said to break up the uneasy silence. ¡°Anytime.¡± ¡°I feel so useless since Sig and Juan Carlos barred me from hunting rogues.¡± ¡°You¡¯re more of a target now. We¡¯ve talked about this.¡± ¡°I know.¡± I rested my head against his shoulder as we walked. ¡°I¡¯m just not used to standing by and watching the action. And none of these freelancers are worth shit when it comes to killing rogues.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll never think anyone did it as well as you.¡± ¡°Are you disagreeing?¡± ¡°As much as it might be detrimental to my long-term health to question the opinions of a Tribunal leader¡­¡± he elbowed me in the ribs, ¡°¡­I think some of these freelancers make up for what they lack in experience by bringing a modicum of subtlety to their work.¡± ¡°I resent that. I¡¯m going to suggest to Sig we have you killed.¡± Holden shrugged, but when I looked up he was smiling. ¡°You¡¯d have to save me all over again.¡± ¡°Pff. I learned my lesson last time. It¡¯s not worth the effort.¡± We came to a stop outside the department store, and Holden stared at me for a long moment. When I opened my mouth to speak, he dipped his head. I turned my face at the last second and his kiss caught my cheek, but there was no hiding the new jump in my pulse. ¡°Secret,¡± he whispered. ¡°They¡¯re watching.¡± Whenever I was in highly visible public areas, especially when I was going to and from the council, I had protection. Just because I couldn¡¯t see them all the time, didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t there. Sig originally planned to have me followed all the time, but I¡¯d put a stop to that plot before he could put it into action. I already had one permanent werewolf guard living in my house, and I was never alone for long, so I¡¯d whittled my warden detail down to the bare minimum to appease the Tribunal leader. This close to the council headquarters, they¡¯d still be trailing me, and if they were watching, my actions would be reported back to Sig. I didn¡¯t need them to see anything that could be held against me. Holden straightened and took a step backwards, bowing his head with stiff propriety. Then he vanished before I had a chance to say anything else. But what else was there to say? Chapter Two A sharp elbow jabbed into my ribs, and a wave of anxiety wafted over me. The smell of worry and anger radiated through the vaulted room, and the object in my hands was wrenched away before I had time to react. ¡°Hey,¡± I protested, making a grab to retrieve my stolen property. ¡°You snooze you lose,¡± countered the chubby blonde who had snatched my leather gloves. ¡°Yeah, but those are my gloves.¡± The supple black leather smiled at me from her sweaty fist. The Louis Vuitton gloves had been an early Christmas gift from my boyfriend, Lucas, and I¡¯d be damned if a pushy Midtown housewife was going to make off with them. She must have thought they were a hot-ticket gift item and I was just too stubborn to let her buy the last pair. She was totally oblivious to the fact that she was actually stealing my property. The woman sneered and said, ¡°Looks like they¡¯re mine now. Possession is nine-tenths of¡ª¡± ¡°The law?¡± Mercedes Castilla came to stand next to me, flashing her NYPD badge at my portly nemesis. The woman¡¯s cheeks flushed an unattractive shade of red, and she handed my gloves back. I put them in my purse and stroked the 9mm SIG handgun hidden within. Mustn¡¯t kill humans, I reminded myself, and withdrew my fingers. The woman vanished into the feverish din of the Bloomingdale¡¯s crowd without so much as an apology. Mercedes touched my elbow, angling me away from the cashmere scarves as she pocketed her badge. ¡°Every year I need to use it at least twice.¡± She shook her head and chuckled. ¡°Christmas in this city should come with riot gear.¡± We negotiated our way through the seething mass of bodies until we reached the watch counter. The rows of Rolex and TAG Heuer timepieces were dazzling under the cleverly positioned lights. The price tags were what had my heart beating faster, though. ¡°Thirty-five-hundred dollars?¡± I stared at a silver and black TAG Heuer Aquaracer. It seemed to be chanting I belong on Lucas¡¯s wrist. I couldn¡¯t argue with it. The watch definitely suited the werewolf king of the East Coast and his sleek billionaire style. I, however, didn¡¯t have the disposable income available to a Fortune 500 real-estate mogul. I ran my fingertips over the cool glass and gave the watch a forlorn final glance. ¡°What do you buy a billionaire for Christmas?¡± I grumbled. Eight words I never thought I¡¯d fit together in a sentence. Mercedes smirked but checked her phone for the seven-hundredth time since we¡¯d gotten here. ¡°Okay, Cedes, seriously. Either you¡¯re having a scandalous affair via your cell phone, or something is up.¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry. We¡¯ve got an insane workload right now. With all these dead bodies popping up around the city lately, I¡¯ve been working overtime every night. I¡¯m exhausted and there¡¯s no end in sight.¡± ¡°What bodies?¡± I stood up straight and focused on her face. Corpses weren¡¯t exactly unheard of in a city this size, but enough of them to raise police attention was worth hearing about. ¡°Still full of blood,¡± she added, forcing a weak smile. Well, at least we knew it wasn¡¯t vampires. ¡°Some of them do have small, ragged holes in the back of their heads, though. Frigging gross.¡± Page 2 ¡°Anything I can help with?¡± I was getting antsy without work to do for the council, and at this point I¡¯d gladly take on a human case if it meant getting my hands dirty in the real world again. Sparring with Holden was great and all, but I needed the thrill of the hunt back in my life. She pocketed her phone and placed one hand on each of my shoulders, staring in my eyes. ¡°Secret, if I need you, I will ask. As of right now, just tell me if you see some nutcase running around with an ice pick, okay?¡± ¡°Sharon Stone: public-enemy number one. Understood.¡± I nodded, proud of myself for not flinching when she¡¯d reached for me. My natural inclination was to go on the defensive when someone touched me unexpectedly. ¡°Can we get back to this present hunt? I¡¯d like us to get out of here without me drawing my weapon.¡± I grimaced. It wasn¡¯t like I wanted to be shopping the week before Christmas either. It just so happened that this year I finally had people to buy for. In previous years I would ship a box of Magnolia cupcakes and the finest dried herbs from Dean & DeLuca to my grandmere. She loved the red velvet cupcakes with their mile-high icing, and claimed the overpriced herbs worked best for her spell casting. I knew better than to argue with an aging witch. My partner, Francis Keats, always disappeared for a month around Christmas, so I never had to get him anything. Mercedes had a more traditional religious take on the holiday and didn¡¯t do gifts. Now the game had changed. Not only did I need to get Grandmere¡¯s usual gift, but I had a whole slew of people in my life I wanted to acknowledge. First there was Lucas Rain, my royal wolfie boyfriend. Then there was Desmond Alvarez, my other werewolf lover and current live-in boyfriend. I also wanted to get something for Desmond¡¯s brother, Dominick, who had become a surrogate sibling to me over the past year. Then I had the vampires to contend with. Brigit Stewart, my ward in the eyes of the vampire council, would be spending her first Christmas away from her family, thanks to her now being dead. And though Holden had never been on my gift list before, since I¡¯d saved his life over the summer I thought I should get him a little something. Last, but not least, was Nolan Tate. I¡¯d come to his rescue too, and since summer he¡¯d become a presence in my life. Over the course of a year, I¡¯d gone from no family save one, and few enough friends to count on one hand (with fingers left to spare), to now having an overburdened shopping list. But that list represented a beloved handful of people who had chosen to share my insane life with me. ¡°Secret.¡± Cedes sighed and tapped out a message on her BlackBerry. ¡°Do I really need to tell you what to buy Lucas for Christmas?¡± I gnawed on my lower lip and toyed with my purse strap. The only shopping I knew how to do was for shoes. ¡°An iPod?¡± I queried. The detective slipped her phone into her back pocket and gave me a knowing wink. ¡°Lingerie,¡± she said, as though it should be obvious. ¡°Why would Luc¡­oh.¡± When it comes to the finer points of typical feminine seduction techniques, I¡¯m not always the swiftest, and sometimes I drop the ball completely. But today I caught on quick enough. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t an iPod be easier?¡± ¡°But is an iPod going to make him want to ravish you on the spot?¡± ¡°An iPod with Barry White on it might.¡± She smacked my arm, and I had to restrain my natural impulse to break her wrist. I didn¡¯t want to hurt Mercedes, but when someone hit me it was second nature to fight back. ¡°Is he not into lingerie?¡± ¡°He might be. I¡¯m not really sure.¡± We were moving in the direction of the Bloomingdale¡¯s delicates department, but Mercedes stopped in her tracks and dragged me over to a rack of plush terrycloth robes. ¡°Secret.¡± Her gaze bored into me, and her expression was suddenly serious. I craned my neck to see if an unanticipated threat had appeared, which might explain her new tension. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You have slept with Lucas, haven¡¯t you?¡± Oh. That¡¯s what had her so up in arms. I pursed my lips together and squirmed uncomfortably under her scrutiny. ¡°Um.¡± ¡°Oh my God.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that big of a deal.¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t you guys been dating since forever?¡± It had been nine months since Lucas had come into my life and changed everything. I hadn¡¯t been living like a nun during that time, thanks to my very active sex life with Desmond, but I couldn¡¯t explain that to Mercedes. There were some things it was easier for me to not tell Mercedes. The real details of my messy love life ranked right up there with my vampire DNA as hot-button topics I chose to avoid, forever if possible. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± ¡°Is he Catholic?¡± I snorted. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m the old-fashioned one this time.¡± This wasn¡¯t a lie. In the six months that Desmond and I had been living together, I¡¯d asked Lucas to be patient with me. The three of us shared a unique and confusing metaphysical werewolf connection known as a soul-bond. Fate had bound us together; I was just being a bit of a prude about having sex with both of them. My love life was forever a work in progress. ¡°Well, I think we answered your question.¡± She had started walking again, and now we were surrounded by an assortment of frilly, lacy, see-through underthings. A pair of crotchless underwear dangling at eye level made my stomach churn. I¡¯d never bought lingerie, so the whole experience was new and uncomfortable. Usually, I found getting naked was more than enough provocation to make a man want to sleep with you. ¡°What do you mean we answered my question?¡± I held up a sheer black teddy with ruffles on the cups. I could see Mercedes through it. ¡°Your gift for Lucas¡­it should be you.¡± I snorted and rolled my eyes. Hanging the garment back up, I ran my fingers over racks of silk and satin until my wandering gaze spotted something and my breath caught in my throat. On a mannequin adorned with a festive red Santa hat was a black leather corset demanding my full attention. I sidled up to the helpless mannequin and ran my hands provocatively over the curves of her waist, the smoothness of the leather purring under my fingertips. Mercedes came to stand next to me, assessing the garment. ¡°Biker chic?¡± ¡°I like to think of it as bounty-hunter formal.¡± I smirked over my shoulder at her. ¡°Merry Christmas to Lucas.¡± I didn¡¯t bother telling her Lucas was in Paris with his sister for Christmas and wasn¡¯t the werewolf soul mate I had in mind for this gift. I grabbed my size off the rack and smiled broadly. ¡°Merry Christmas to me.¡± Chapter Three Outside Bloomingdale¡¯s, Mercedes and I parted ways. According to an onslaught of texts from the precinct, there was a new body to be investigated, which put an end to her night off. With two air kisses to the cheeks she vanished into the crowd, leaving me grasping my Big Brown Bag. I didn¡¯t need another snatch and grab like the one with my gloves. The winter air was cold and laden with the promise of moisture, but it was a promise that was taking forever to come to fruition. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the heady aroma of retail panic mixed with the constant waft of Starbucks Christmas blend drifting in from all corners of the city. All the makings of a perfect New York Christmas were in play. The windows at Macy¡¯s, Bloomingdale¡¯s and Henri Bendel were decorated with such meticulous precision, tourists and locals alike stood outside to drink in the orchestrated merriment. The big tree was up at Rockefeller Plaza and was so burdened with lights it looked like a pixie convention had moved in for the season. Below it, skaters were making the rounds on the cramped rink, while overhead, visitors representing all the waving flags of the plaza took photos of the famous landmark. Only one thing was missing. It was December seventeenth, and it had yet to snow. Usually by my birthday¡ªthe sixth of December¡ªthe streets were piled high with dirty stacks of the white stuff. It would fall in big, fat flakes so wide and fluffy they looked fake until they hit your cheeks and eyelashes, where they melted. Sidewalks would be peppered with dancing drifts that darted to and fro underfoot at the whim of the wind. But this year there was nothing. The air was cold enough for it, stinging exposed skin and showing off puffs of breath as people hurried from store to store, but something kept the sky clear and the ground bare. Back at my apartment in Hell¡¯s Kitchen, I wrestled an armload of bags through the front entrance, dumping them in the tiny hallway outside my door. The small space was overpowered by the smell of cinnamon, and for a moment my heart jumped. Part of my soul-bond meant I could taste my partners, and Lucas¡¯s taste was that of cinnamon. But I wasn¡¯t tasting anything; it was only the smell. My front door was unlocked, and when I opened it my jaw dropped. My little apartment could have put a department-store window to shame. The small television next to my fireplace had been relocated to make room for an honest-to-God live Christmas tree. The tree was wrapped in broad red ribbon, and multicolored LED lights burned brightly from the boughs. Shiny round ornaments in bold hues were nestled next to kitschy reindeer and snowman decorations. Over the fireplace was a runner of holly, and two brand-new stockings hung from the mantle. My little stereo was playing ¡°Deck the Halls¡± and my, oh my, were the halls decked. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafting out of the kitchen mingled with the scent of pine to create a festive perfume Glade would kill to have in a scented candle. Someone in the kitchen was humming along to the carol. I dragged my parcels inside and closed the door quietly, but there was no level of stealth good enough to escape a werewolf¡¯s hearing. Desmond came to stand in the kitchen doorway, smiling at me like a lunatic. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked, wiping his hands on a snowman-themed dishtowel. ¡°The North Pole has exploded in my apartment.¡± I placed my hands on my hips, trying to look indignant, but it was pretty hard to fake being mad when there was so much happy crap plastered everywhere. I dropped the charade of annoyance and crossed the room to give him a kiss. Page 3 His skin smelled like cookie dough, but his kiss tasted like lime. Thanks to my new winter boots with their four-inch heels, I was able to kiss him without either of us having to contort too much. I was a mere five-foot-four to his six-foot-two. Let it never be said shoes can¡¯t bring lovers together. I looked into his violet-gray eyes and brushed his dark brown hair off his forehead. Even in the middle of winter, Desmond looked like he had a tan. I, on the other hand, looked as pale as Snow White. One of the many joys of being half-vampire was I never got to set foot in the sunlight. One of the joys of being half-werewolf was getting to smooch a handsome wolf lieutenant in my kitchen. I planted a kiss on his nose before returning to the front door to take off my boots. ¡°When did you have time to do all this? I haven¡¯t been gone that long.¡± ¡°Dom came over for a bit, but he had a date tonight and couldn¡¯t stay.¡± ¡°Your brother met someone? Who¡¯s the lucky girl?¡± Desmond smiled, but it didn¡¯t linger too long. ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask him.¡± I hung my coat in the hall closet and put the knee-high boots on the floor next to a sagging rack of high heels. When I straightened, Desmond was behind me, looping his strong, muscular arms around my waist. He nestled close, finding the exposed band of my neck below my messy blonde ponytail and breathing hotly against it. A pleasant shudder ricocheted through my body, sending up goose bumps all over my skin. Even after six months living together, we still couldn¡¯t keep our hands off each other, and I for one hoped that never changed. Whenever Desmond touched me I thought I might burst, and with him now licking the column of my neck and capturing my earlobe between his teeth, it would be an explosion of epic proportions. His hands moved upwards from my waist and under my sweater until my breasts were cupped in his wide palms. I let out a breathy sigh, grinding my hips backwards against him before my gaze fell on the presents littered over the ground. His knee was between my legs when I smacked the hands beneath my shirt and pushed him away. ¡°You naughty werewolf,¡± I scolded. ¡°I could be very naughty,¡± he promised, scooting closer and attempting to reclaim my breasts. I smacked him playfully again. ¡°Not now. I need to hide this stuff before you ruin everything.¡± Desmond stooped, his lips grazing the curve of my jaw, his warm breath exhaling in my ear. I stopped protesting when he captured my mouth and tilted my head back for a deep, probing kiss. He tasted the inside of my mouth and sighed, his tongue dragging over the sensitive roof. When he withdrew, he sucked my bottom lip, nipping on the delicate skin before kissing my lips gently and laughing at my star-struck face. In the kitchen the timer buzzed. ¡°Back to my cookies,¡± he announced with far too much cheer in his voice. When he left, I looked up and saw a bundle of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling. Who was I to argue with Christmas tradition? With my packages stashed in the bottom of our bedroom closet, I returned to the kitchen to watch my man be domestic. The kitchen was too small for me to share the space with him and still be out of the way, so I stayed in the doorway. Desmond moved around the tiny space like he¡¯d been born there. He removed one tray of cookies from the oven and replaced it with another in one fell swoop. ¡°Where did you learn to bake?¡± I asked. He shut the oven door and put the finished cookies on the stove. The smell was incredible, all cinnamon and sugar and the moist perfection of melted butter and flour. Leaning against the edge of the sink, he faced me with a smile. ¡°My mom taught me and Dominick. Penny is a bit resistant to learn, which Mom doesn¡¯t quite know what to do with. I don¡¯t think any mother in Sunnyside ever had a daughter fight so hard against baking.¡± Penelope Alvarez was Desmond¡¯s twelve-year-old sister, and I had only learned about her existence after he moved in. Since she wasn¡¯t a werewolf yet, he liked to keep her distanced from the dangers of his and Dominick¡¯s life. When Penny turned thirteen she¡¯d be able to decide for herself if she wanted to become a wolf, and if she agreed, she would go through the coming-of-age bite ritual called the Awakening. I suspected Desmond wanted her to refuse the change. As the oldest male werewolf in his family, it would fall to him to bite Penny and change her over. Every time the topic came up, his features got heavy with sorrow and he was moody and quiet for hours. ¡°Speaking of Penny¡­¡± he began, and I stiffened. The evening was going so well. I didn¡¯t want it ruined by discussing his sister¡¯s future. ¡°Yes?¡± I tested the waters cautiously. ¡°Mom is insisting you come over for Christmas Eve dinner.¡± He returned to baking the instant the words were out of his mouth, removing the cookies from the tray and putting them onto a rack for cooling, as if he hadn¡¯t said anything. In the doorway, I chewed my lower lip. I guess I¡¯d hoped to avoid the whole awkward meet-the-family ordeal altogether. Desmond had met my mother once, and I figured it might set the precedence for why familial get-togethers should be passed over. When Desmond and Lucas met my mother, Mercy, she was in the process of ripping my face off with her partially changed werewolf claws because I¡¯d murdered her mate. Ain¡¯t family grand? ¡°Des¡­¡± Sensing my uncertainty, he left the baking to meet me in the doorway and drew me in for a tight, warm hug. He smelled so damn good I wanted to lick the sugary sweetness off his skin. Instead I tucked my head against his chest, rubbing my cheek on the softness of his sweatshirt. Like Lucas, Desmond¡¯s tastes leaned towards the finer things, and the simple shirt was cashmere. For the first few months of my acquaintance with the wolves, I¡¯d believed Desmond¡¯s income was provided solely by Lucas. It wasn¡¯t until the week after he¡¯d moved in that I learned he was an architect at a prestigious New York firm. That the firm was owned by Rain Industries and its primary service was to design new concepts for Rain properties meant Lucas did pay Desmond, but not the way I¡¯d figured. Desmond had laughed at my misguided assumptions and pointed out it would be hard to file taxes with the job description of kept man. He brushed my hair behind my ear and tilted my chin up with his thumb. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to.¡± ¡°I¡­I¡¯m just not good with families.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He snuggled me closer. ¡°What do you call this?¡± My heart did a flip-flop. ¡°Is it important to you?¡± ¡°It would mean a lot to me, and to them, if you came. Plus, Dominick will be there, so it¡¯s not like you won¡¯t have protection if Mom gets nasty.¡± I paled, which is an impressive feat given how white my skin is, and Desmond seemed to recognize the foolishness of his word choice. He started to apologize, but I put a finger against his lips. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± If I could kill a vampire Tribunal leader, I could handle Momma Alvarez, right? I wonder if he¡¯d let me bring my sword. Chapter Four It was just after five o¡¯clock in the evening on December eighteenth and there was still no snow. In the office I shared with Keaty on the 100 block of West 80th, I sat behind his wide desk, kicked my shoes off and stared at the desk calendar. Someone had a case file open and paperwork spread all over. It hadn¡¯t been me, and it definitely wasn¡¯t Keaty. Only one other person had access to our office and this desk. I flipped idly through the open file on the desk, trying to glean what Nolan might be working on in Keaty¡¯s absence. Depending on what type of case it was I¡¯d be able to figure out how much faith Mr. Francis Keats had in our young apprentice. The front page was a generic form we had all clients fill out, with name and address and payment information. The next was an immaculately handwritten collection of notes, outlining an apparent missing-persons case. Teenager, a moody type who the police were convinced was a runaway but the parents believed had been snatched. Run of the mill, except we didn¡¯t do standard missing persons. Sure, Keaty was a licensed private investigator¡ªhe had to be in case anything came back to bite us in the ass if an investigation went wrong, plus it meant he was legal to carry a weapon. I never let the logistics stop me, but I found you got in less trouble when the law was on your side with stuff like that. But even with the license, we didn¡¯t really take on human cases. If someone came knocking on our door, it was for a reason. I kept flipping through the file until I found that reason. Were-panthers. The missing boy¡¯s family were shifters, and so they¡¯d come to Keaty¡ªor in this case Nolan¡ªlooking for help that the police wouldn¡¯t be able to offer. They needed people who understood the supernatural. I checked the dates and saw that the boy had gone missing about three weeks earlier, just after the last full moon. It might be coincidental, but it also might mean something. Bad shift? Did someone die accidentally? The file didn¡¯t answer my questions, so I decided to go right to the source. ¡°Nolan?¡± No response. I moved into the hallway and stood at the base of the stairs, which led to the second-floor bedrooms. Again, I yelled, ¡°Nolan.¡± This time there was a response, but it didn¡¯t come from upstairs. ¡°Secret?¡± The reply was muffled and came from the direction of the kitchen. Something about the note of panic in his tone made me bolt for the kitchen. I skidded through the swinging door, my socks propelling me across the smooth floor until my hip connected with the low marble counter. Nolan was standing beside the stove, fanning at a plume of smoke that was billowing out of the oven. He gave me a worried look before returning to the task at hand. ¡°Turn off the oven,¡± I instructed. For a moment he was too surprised to move, until I nudged him aside and turned the oven off, then flicked the switch to turn on the exhaust hood. Smoke was sucked upwards, but enough remained in the kitchen to sting my eyes. I opened the oven, and inside was a charred tray of black sticks. Page 4 ¡°Wanna fry?¡± Nolan asked, his eyes red and his smile sheepish. I guess not all of the men in my life could be gifted in the kitchen. ¡°Let those cool before you throw them out. I¡¯ll call for delivery, and then we can talk about this file you¡¯re working on.¡± In Keaty¡¯s office, I was digging around for a phonebook when my cell phone started trilling at me. At first I didn¡¯t recognize it, because my usual ring tone was Tom Petty, but my phone was currently singing ¡°Baby, It¡¯s Cold Outside¡±. Leave it to my sneaky diurnal boyfriend to change my ring tone while I was asleep for the day. In my haste to answer, I didn¡¯t check caller ID so I opened with a questioning, ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Hey, Secret, it¡¯s Cedes.¡± ¡°Hey, lady, what can I do for you? You find Sharon Stone yet?¡± There was a long pause, then she cleared her throat. ¡°Keats made you get your PI license, right?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I replied warily. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to come down to the precinct.¡± My whole body tensed. When a homicide detective asked you to come in, it usually wasn¡¯t for anything good. ¡°Is something looking less stabby and more vampy? ¡¯Cause I haven¡¯t been on active duty for months, so it wasn¡¯t m¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a vampire I¡¯m worried about.¡± Her voice was hushed, so she must have been around other officers. Humans, by and large, weren¡¯t big believers in vampires. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Can you just come, please?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± The NYPD¡¯s seventy-sixth precinct looked like a high school that might burst into a West Side Story-type gang war at any moment. It was a squat concrete building with no color and no life. I dragged myself up the steps, trying to imagine what might make Mercedes call me in like this. Behind the front desk was a pretty young receptionist whom I¡¯d had the displeasure of meeting on several previous visits. ¡°Barbie,¡± I greeted. No, I wasn¡¯t kidding. And this girl gave me attitude for being named¡­ ¡°Secret.¡± Her smile was forced and her voice barely masked her contempt. ¡°Castilla and Novak are expecting you in the conference room.¡± Novak? Oh sweet, honorable crap. Detective Tyler Nowakowski was the last person I was prepared to see tonight. For some stupid reason my hands flew up to check my hair, and I was thankful I¡¯d at least done something with it. As for my new personal uniform of tight black leather pants and knee-high boots, I had made a valiant effort to girlie them up by wearing a lilac cardigan over a butter-yellow tank. Still, it¡¯s hard not to look like you¡¯re a member of a biker gang when you¡¯re wearing leather pants. I¡¯d gotten sick of ruining all my best jeans with bloodstains, and leather was easier to keep clean. I let out a sigh and took the stairs behind Barbie¡¯s desk up to the main work floor. Along the far wall was a room with more windows than walls, and I could see Mercedes and Tyler sitting next to each other at a table. I weaved my way through the sea of metal desks until I was in the open doorway, tapping at the frame to announce my presence. ¡°Secret,¡± Mercedes said with a small smile. ¡°Thanks for coming.¡± She and Tyler rose, and both shook my hand. As always, I flushed with pleasure from Tyler¡¯s firm grip. We¡¯d had an ill-fated blind date. It had gone perfectly until a group of vampire wardens had been forced to wipe his memory so he¡¯d forget how I¡¯d ginsued a trio of rogue vampires on a subway platform. And you thought your dating life was hard. Now he thought I¡¯d bailed on our date without rhyme or reason. I was that girl. I gave him my best smile, but he only stared back with detached indifference. I wished I could explain things to him, but now that I was one third of the vampire Tribunal, it was extra impossible to defy the rules. I took off my cropped motorcycle jacket and eased into the chair across from them. The three of us sat in silence, and I had no intention of being the one to break first. I was part vampire, after all, and I could stay quiet for an irritating length of time. Tyler cleared his throat and placed a manila folder in the middle of the desk. ¡°Do you have a queasy stomach, Miss McQueen?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Secret. And no.¡± My werewolf half had a bad habit of needing to win staring contests, and I didn¡¯t look away until he did. He nudged the folder towards me, but I didn¡¯t bite. Curiosity killed the cat, but I was a wolf. I leaned back in my chair and kept watching them. If they thought I was guilty of something, being too eager to see the evidence would only make me look worse. And since I didn¡¯t know if I actually was guilty or not, I didn¡¯t want to be too rash. I¡¯d killed plenty of people¡ªor at least monsters that looked like people¡ªbut none without reason. Try explaining that to the human police, though, and you come across like a psychopath. They didn¡¯t tend to love the they had it coming logic. It was Mercedes who broke the silence. ¡°Secret, we¡¯ve asked you here because we know you and Mr. Keats specialize in more¡­unusual cases than most PIs in the city. What we¡¯ve got on our hands right now definitely qualifies as unusual.¡± ¡°You want my help?¡± Considering just last night Cedes had rebuffed the offer, I was interested in what had happened to bring on such an official change of heart. ¡°Did you think we brought you in for something more sinister?¡± Tyler¡¯s tone was sarcastic but maintained a note of genuine curiosity. I caught his eye and frowned. ¡°The invitation was a little mysterious.¡± ¡°I thought you liked to be cloaked in mystery,¡± he countered. I snorted. ¡°Am I here to offer a professional opinion, or am I here so you can get in a few long-awaited jabs at my expense, Nowakowski?¡± I felt bad for being so harsh, but I wasn¡¯t willing to be dragged through the mud for something I didn¡¯t deserve. He frowned and drummed his fingers on the table but said nothing. ¡°We¡¯ve been trying to keep this case quiet for as long as possible,¡± Mercedes confessed. ¡°But tomorrow the Times and Post are going live with a vengeance.¡± She flipped open the folder, and a dozen glossy photos fluttered out across the table towards me. At first I couldn¡¯t make sense of them, but when I picked one up to get a better look, my stomach clenched. ¡°Is that¡­?¡± ¡°That one was found on the desk of the Times editor.¡± She handed me another. ¡°This one at the Post. And this one¡­¡± She put a third photo in my hands. ¡°This one was delivered to my desk this afternoon.¡± Each photo was of a cheery Christmas stocking, red boot with a fuzzy white trim, crammed full of body parts. And judging by the red-hued, ragged edges of the pieces, they wouldn¡¯t fit back together all too cleanly. I shoved the photos into the folder and slapped it shut. ¡°Who delivered the packages?¡± I asked, trying to drive the images from my mind. ¡°That¡¯s part of what¡¯s so weird. There were no deliveries. The boxes weren¡¯t mailed or dropped off. They just showed up,¡± Mercedes explained. Tyler exhaled loudly through his nose. ¡°Is there any way to hold the press off?¡± This kind of story would create a frenzy in the city. People were already frantic this time of year. Throw in a serial killer who ripped people apart and shit would hit the fan. Tyler spoke up at last. ¡°The Post is shitting themselves. Can you imagine how long they¡¯ve been waiting to use the headline Ho-Ho-Homicide? The Times won¡¯t be scooped by the Post on a story this big. Especially when Ellen Klein has blood all over her editorial desk. No, we can¡¯t hold the press off.¡± I played with the edge of the folder, nervous energy rattling through my body. ¡°What do you think I can do to help?¡± ¡°We know you and Keats have dealt with some strange customers¡­¡± Mercedes was trying to phrase things as delicately as possible with Tyler around. My guess was he¡¯d insisted on sitting in on the meeting, not wanting her to commandeer lead detective on what might be the biggest case of their careers. I couldn¡¯t blame him, but it made it difficult for Cedes to tell me what she needed. ¡°We¡¯ve seen our share of mixed nuts, yeah.¡± ¡°With your experience, we hoped you might look through your old cases and see if any red flags popped up.¡± ¡°Check the records for someone who thinks they¡¯re Santa?¡± I grumbled. ¡°At this point we¡¯re willing to follow up on every lead. There¡¯s more.¡± She placed another folder on the table next to the one we¡¯d just closed, and I was hoping it wasn¡¯t going to be worse. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking at this as a missing-persons issue until now, but today that all changed. Since we¡¯re now dealing with one of the scariest mass homicides this city has seen in thirty years, we have to be prepared for the two things to be connected.¡± ¡°What missing-persons issue?¡± ¡°Three youths are missing, all under fifteen. And with this development, especially the stocking angle and the age of some of the other victims, there¡¯s a chance this freak has taken them.¡± ¡°God.¡± I now regretted my Santa remark. ¡°I¡¯ll take a look at our case files. Keaty¡­Keats is out of town, but I¡¯ll see if I can get in touch with him. He knows our past cases better than anyone. But don¡¯t get your hopes too high. I can¡¯t remember anything we¡¯ve dealt with remotely like that.¡± I tapped the first file. It was true I¡¯d never known of a monster who delivered body parts in stockings before. But I knew there were monsters out there who targeted the young. Monsters the NYPD had no business dealing with. Which was probably the real reason Cedes had called me. ¡°Every little bit counts,¡± Tyler admitted. It must have pained him to be a party to asking for my help. Wounded male pride runs deep, and even a smart guy like him was no exception to that rule. ¡°What else can you tell me? Any connections between the kids and the other victims? Were any of the adult victims reported as MIA before their bodies showed up?¡± In another life, I might have made one heck of a detective. As it was, I had more than enough mysteries to solve. Page 5 Mercedes finally opened the second folder and laid three photos out in front of me. These were not at all grisly, but somehow they made me feel worse than the crime-scene snaps. A trio of smiling school photos beamed up at me. They looked to be from thirteen to fifteen, judging by the grade-level markers on each photo, and there was no trend otherwise. One was Hispanic, one East Indian and one white. The group was split between the sexes¡ªtwo boys and one girl. ¡°They went to different schools,¡± Cedes explained. ¡°Lived in different neighborhoods as far out as Queens. We don¡¯t know for sure if they¡¯ve been taken by this son of a bitch, but we¡¯re running on that assumption right now. They all disappeared in the same three-day period earlier this month, and none of the families have been contacted for ransom.¡± I restacked the photos so all I was left with was the grinning face of a shy-looking brown-skinned boy, then I pushed the pile back to the detectives. ¡°Is that everything?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what we know.¡± ¡°It goes without saying we would appreciate the utmost discretion in this matter,¡± Tyler said, his voice loaded with warning. Me, be anything less than subtle? What a shocking allegation. ¡°My name is Secret, Detective Nowakowski.¡± His mouth formed a thin line, but there was a light in his eyes I hadn¡¯t seen in a long time. To counter the rising tide of mirth, he lowered his thick black brows into a scowl. ¡°We appreciate you coming,¡± Cedes said, and offered me her hand. We shook politely like professionals, and then Tyler and I did the same. ¡°Whatever I can do,¡± I promised. ¡°I¡¯ll help you find this monster.¡± Chapter Five Back at my apartment, visions of sugarplums were no longer dancing in my head. Instead I was having a hard time shaking the images of the smiling young teens in those school photos. I¡¯d dealt with a lot of nasty crap in my time, but it took a real monster to snatch kids. Scratch that. Most monsters I knew were too principled to do something so despicable. Mercedes wanted to believe this was a paranormal killing, because the only other option was to think a human being was capable of dismembering people and snatching teens for the same nasty fate. Unfortunately, in my experience, I found humans were just as able to do monstrous things as the real monsters were. I kicked off my boots and padded around the apartment. Desmond wasn¡¯t home. He¡¯d called from work while I was at Keaty¡¯s to tell me about some sort of lobby disaster in the plans for Lucas¡¯s new hotel in Singapore. Apparently redesigning the columns was going to eat up a good chunk of his evening, which left me all alone with my dark thoughts. On the living room floor, Rio the kitten was having a blast with a strand of tinsel. She was no longer the tiny ball of fluff Brigit had brought home. In six months she¡¯d grown into a sinewy white rope of cat with a diamond starburst of gray on her forehead. She looked more like a little fur demon than ever and acted the part. Kicking at the tinsel with her back legs, she teased it with a menacing, ¡°Brreow.¡± Then she began to gnaw on it. ¡°Oh, Rio, no.¡± I snatched the tinsel away from her, making a face at the slobbery wetness, then disposed of it in the kitchen trash. The last thing I needed to be festively adorned in this apartment was the cat¡¯s poop. With the tinsel gone, she took up her favorite hobby¡ªattempted manslaughter. She weaved between my ankles while I walked, trying her damnedest to make me do a face plant into the Christmas tree. When I picked her up, she began to purr loudly. ¡°You¡¯ve won this round.¡± A knock at the door interrupted a world-class belly rub, and I got the evil cat death stare from hell when I put her back on the floor. If anyone doubts me when I say cats are demons, they¡¯ve never owned one. I avoided her retribution by stepping over her and pulling the door open. She got one look at my visitor and vanished under the loveseat with a hiss. ¡°What did I ever do to her?¡± Holden asked. ¡°Beats me. I can¡¯t even blame it on you being a vampire. She loves Brigit.¡± ¡°I bet she likes your pet dog, too, so there¡¯s no accounting for taste.¡± I wrinkled my nose at him but stepped aside so he could enter the apartment. ¡°Speaking of dogs,¡± he continued. ¡°Where is yours?¡± ¡°Desmond is working late.¡± I shut the door behind him, and we stood close together in the front entrance. Holden was busy assessing the new d¨¦cor of my living room. ¡°Dear God. FAO Schwarz¡¯s window display has exploded in your apartment.¡± I held back a laugh because his reaction was so similar to my own. Instead I chided him. ¡°Don¡¯t be such a Grinch.¡± He gave me a quizzical look. I was always astonished at how a two-hundred-year-old vampire could be so out of the loop on pop-culture references. The Grinch wasn¡¯t even modern pop culture. ¡°A Scrooge,¡± I said, finding something more his century. ¡°Ah.¡± ¡°Thanks for coming so fast. It¡¯s not like you to actually check your voicemail.¡± ¡°What can I say? I¡¯m at your beck and call now.¡± ¡°Jump,¡± I said with a smirk. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You¡¯re supposed to say how high?¡± Holden didn¡¯t look amused. He buried his hands in his coat pockets and stared at me. Ever since I¡¯d saved his life, his moods shifted from teasingly cheerful to downright sullen at the drop of a hat. I was used to the brooding side of Holden. It was the turn towards the manic that tended to throw me. Could vampires be bipolar? ¡°You said you needed me for something.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going hunting.¡± ¡°Secret¡­¡± ¡°As long as I have someone from the council with me, Sig can¡¯t complain about it. And I¡¯m not hunting vampires.¡± ¡°What are you¡­we hunting?¡± I told him about my meeting at the police station and the details Cedes and Tyler had provided me about the murders. Holden was as stony as ever, but he didn¡¯t interrupt me at all, which meant he was at least taking me seriously. ¡°Does it sound like anything you¡¯ve ever heard of before?¡± ¡°When I still lived in Dorchester, before I came to America, there was an Irish family living in the village.¡± He leaned against the wall and removed his hands from his pockets. ¡°This was when I was still human. The mother would tell stories some nights, and if you were quiet enough, you¡¯d be able to hear her clear across town when the windows weren¡¯t shuttered and the wind was low.¡± Vampires never got straight to the point. Their stories tended to be Dostoyevskyian in length, and even the most trivial tale could be drawn out for ages. I bit the inside of my cheek and resisted the urge to ask him to get to the point. He noticed my reaction and sighed. ¡°Long story short, she would tell her children that if they weren¡¯t good, a wicked fairy would come and take them away in the night.¡± ¡°But fairies don¡¯t eat children. And they certainly don¡¯t chop them up. Not to mention the current corpses are adults.¡± ¡°True, but most humans don¡¯t know the difference between a fairy and other low fae. I wouldn¡¯t put it past a troll to snatch kids.¡± ¡°A troll wouldn¡¯t have the finesse or presence of mind to send body parts to the cops. And I¡¯ve never seen a troll, let alone one in Manhattan. I doubt there¡¯s one lurking under the Bow Bridge, smacking his chops for tourists in rowboats.¡± Holden frowned. ¡°Have you considered the obvious?¡± ¡°That it¡¯s a human?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the most sensible answer, actually. My biggest question is how a human could get the stockings into a busy newspaper office or drop one on a desk in the middle of a police station.¡± ¡°A witch, perhaps?¡± ¡°Maybe. I¡¯d need to see the stockings to know if there was any lingering magic smells on them. And after so long, even that wouldn¡¯t guarantee a solid answer. I only know what Grandmere has shown me, and she doesn¡¯t use black magic. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d recognize it.¡± ¡°So, if we don¡¯t know what we¡¯re looking for, what are we hunting for?¡± ¡°Answers.¡± He snorted. ¡°Good luck finding any of those in this city.¡± I slipped my boots back on. When I stood we were almost eye level and he was closer than I remembered him being before. My breath stuck in my lungs. He caught the sides of my jacket at my waist, and with aching slowness did the zipper up one metal tooth at a time. When he reached my breasts, his upwards journey came to an abrupt end. I placed a hand over his, and we stood staring at each other. ¡°I¡¯ve got it,¡± I said, hating how breathy my voice sounded. For a minute he refused to let go of the zipper, until I pried his fingers loose. His hand hovered before he dropped it and took a step backwards. ¡°It¡¯s cold outside,¡± he said. ¡°I think maybe that¡¯s a good thing.¡± He looked up, perhaps searching for something to say, and laid eyes on the dangling cluster of mistletoe Desmond had hung in the entrance. Before Holden could get any wise ideas, I grabbed his wrist and hauled him out of the apartment. Maybe the mistletoe wasn¡¯t such a great decorating touch after all. Chapter Six Holden and I walked south from Hell¡¯s Kitchen, through Chelsea, until we were in the West Village. To be honest, I wasn¡¯t sure what I was looking for. I¡¯d called Nolan, and he was searching through Keaty¡¯s computer files for me. Now I had nothing to do but search my memory and wander aimlessly until something became clear. I hated having no plan. That was what brought us¡ªafter a long stroll¡ªto Battery Park and the southernmost tip of Manhattan. The trees were bare, giving the space a ghostly, skeletal-limbed eeriness. We walked through the park to the riverside path, and I leaned against the railing. The city lights turned the sky a bruised purple color. Page 6 ¡°Now what?¡± Holden asked. Turning, I propped my elbows on the railing and met his questioning gaze. He¡¯d been politely silent while we¡¯d walked, giving me time to mull over my thoughts, but now that we¡¯d stopped moving he was expecting me to have reached some mental conclusion as well. I guess my contemplation had drawn on too long, because he persisted with a, ¡°Well?¡± ¡°Okay, well, we know it¡¯s not a vampire because there didn¡¯t appear to be any blood taken. We know it¡¯s not a shifter, because none of them would be stupid enough to make such a public display.¡± Holden gave me a tight-lipped frown as if to doubt my certainty. ¡°That leaves us where?¡± ¡°Human, fae or other.¡± ¡°Other?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s the point. Alien? Poltergeist?¡± When I said this, he rolled his eyes, so in spite of my sincere desire to hunt our monster of unknown origin down, I added, ¡°Wookie?¡± ¡°Wookie.¡± He looked dumbfounded by my stupid suggestion, but it seemed like he¡¯d seen Star Wars because he didn¡¯t ask me to elaborate. ¡°I more or less wondered what we were doing here, specifically.¡± ¡°Since I don¡¯t know what to look for, I guess I just figured we¡¯d start at the bottom and work our way up. See if we find anything. See or smell anything out of the ordinary. Talk to people who might know.¡± Holden stared at me. ¡°Surely you can¡¯t be suggesting we cover the entirety of Manhattan on foot looking for nothing in particular.¡± His emphasis on the last three words made it sound like he was speaking to a child. If I knew where to look or what to look for, I¡¯d be on my way with a weapon in hand to dispatch the evil bastard who was doing this. That was how I worked. But I needed somewhere to start. And here seemed like as good a place as any. ¡°Did you have something better to do tonight?¡± Four hours later I was walking back to my apartment with a surly vampire. We¡¯d covered the area from Battery Park to Gramercy Park and in spite of our combined network of sources and our preternaturally heightened senses, we¡¯d come up with nothing. Well, not nothing, but nothing much. When we¡¯d stopped into a loathsome little vampire bar called The Ruby Slipper on our way out of the financial district, there¡¯d been rumblings of something nasty that was capable of taking down an adult shifter. But since shifters weren¡¯t known for sharing weaknesses with vampires, I was sure it was just the underground rumor mill. Nevertheless I¡¯d called Nolan back to ask him about his case and find out if anything new had come up. A missing teenage shifter, dismembered bodies and a trio of missing youths? And now the rumblings of a big bad? Terrible things happened here all the time, but this was too many at once to ignore the likelihood of a connection. When we turned onto West 52nd, Holden thrust a white paper bag into my hand. Once our search was exhausted and we¡¯d set out on our way home, I¡¯d made us stop at Magnolia so I could pick up cupcakes for Grandmere before it was too late to FedEx them to her. I¡¯d forgotten I gave it to him. ¡°This wasn¡¯t quite what I had in mind when you said you wanted to go hunting. Stalking the elusive cupcake isn¡¯t a typical sentry job.¡± We stopped walking at a red light, and I looked at the bag with its charming blue logo. ¡°I know.¡± I fidgeted with the zipper on my jacket, pulling it up and down until Holden reached out and grabbed my hand to stop me. His hands were colder than usual, having absorbed the outside chill. Vampires were weird like that. They weren¡¯t always cold, but they had an amphibious habit of adapting to the temperature around them. With the air temperature hovering at twenty, my breath swam around my head like thick cigarette smoke, and Holden¡¯s skin was freezing. He moved a step closer, no breath clouds escaping his lips until he spoke. ¡°Secret¡­¡± I countered by stepping out of his reach. Since summer I was having trouble coming to terms with Holden¡¯s attachment to me. I wanted to believe he maintained close contact because he was grateful for all I¡¯d done to save him, but there was more to it. The long sideways glances, the lingering touches, the comments laden with innuendo¡­they all spelled trouble. Worse still, even months after the fact, I still couldn¡¯t stop thinking about a dream we¡¯d shared in which things had gone way beyond hot and heavy. Sure, a sex dream wasn¡¯t the same as actual sex, but in this case it was more than a dream. We¡¯d shared the visceral experience while both wide awake, and we¡¯d kissed more than once in real life. And what a kisser he was. I returned to toying with my zipper and bouncing nervously on my heels. Holden stayed a half step behind me, and he raked one hand through his dark brown hair, then jammed both his hands into his pockets. I opened my mouth to say something, but a scream brought me back down to earth. Holden put his hand on my elbow and pulled me against him. Another scream rattled through the night, and this time I could pinpoint its origin. A few blocks down, beyond the line of apartments where I lived, was a public high school. Usually this late at night it was dark and closed, but there were more cars than usual parked in front, some using up space in front of my building, and all the lights were on. The elevated sounds of panic became a chorus of shouts, and the one female shriek continued to rise over the others. ¡°What the hell?¡± I moved to cross the street, but Holden held me firm. A speeding cab blitzed past, honking at my near misstep. ¡°Be careful.¡± I sucked in a deep breath. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°You¡¯re no good to the Tribunal if you¡¯re dead, and I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d explain to Sig that you were being replaced by a Yellow Cab operator.¡± He held out a hand to the now-green light inviting us to cross the street. Holden stayed about ten feet behind me as we made our way to the gated area in front of the school. We weaved through the throngs of people bunched together until we were standing in the middle of the group. There were at least a hundred teenagers decked out in their formal best. Boys in borrowed suits and girls in brand-new dresses who shivered against the chill of winter with their bare arms and open-toed shoes. The smell of blood was so strong I was choking on it. When Holden came to stand next to me, his tightly drawn features told me he could smell it as well, if not better. ¡°Is it¡­?¡± ¡°It¡¯s human.¡± He confirmed what I already knew. ¡°I was worried you¡¯d say that.¡± The screaming continued with the unabated consistency of an annoying car alarm. It had been carrying on so long now I almost didn¡¯t notice it. The woman responsible for the worst of the noise was a bland-looking thirty-something sitting on the front steps of the school with her mouth hanging agape, emitting a high-pitched wail. Sidling up beside her, I lowered to a crouch and took her hand in mine. For a long while she didn¡¯t seem to recognize I was there, until the screaming petered out into hoarse, gulping gasps, and she turned her glassy, red-rimmed eyes towards me. ¡°I never¡­¡± Her lower lip began to tremble and mascara streaks smeared the underside of her eyes, making her face look like a hollow, ghostly void. Her hand squeezed mine, and the strength of the gesture was shocking. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked. Behind us, a group of teenagers were crowded around the fence, speaking in excited tones. Several girls in their midst were crying, and dozens were on their cell phones. The woman holding my hand was grasping me like I was the last safe port in a storm, blubbering incoherently. Her eyelashes were frosty where her tears had frozen from the cold. ¡°Holden, can you go see what¡¯s going on?¡± I didn¡¯t look back at him but felt the presence of his body disappear. Still looking at the woman, I asked, ¡°What did you see?¡± ¡°Death,¡± she whispered, and it was the first thing she¡¯d said so far I really understood. She stared at me, her eyes haunted by something she would never be able to unsee, and I battled with myself over whether or not it was something I needed to add to the nest of awful things that lived inside my own mind. ¡°Secret.¡± Holden¡¯s voice came from the middle of the wide circle of teens and was heavy with something serious and frightening. ¡°I think you¡¯d better come here.¡± I let go of the woman¡¯s hand, and she didn¡¯t protest. Her body rested limp and useless on the steps, and she stared at nothing, tears streaming down her face. This was what my world did to people. This was what happened when there was no plan. Meeting Holden where he stood amid the crowd of brave gawkers, I slipped in front of him to get a good look at what all the fuss was about. I was fairly certain I didn¡¯t want to know, but blissful ignorance wasn¡¯t an option in my line of work. On the ground next to the brick wall of the building that neighbored the high school was a human body. Or what was left of it. It had once been a girl, judging by the sky-blue taffeta party dress spread out on the concrete. The dress and the trunk of the body were all that remained. The girl¡¯s limbs and everything above her neck was missing. While the one teacher on the steps was too upset to act, several other teachers and adult chaperones were trying to move the teens back inside. A balding man in a cheap suit was crouched low to the ground where a group of girls were huddled together crying. One of the girls kept saying, ¡°I don¡¯t understand, she just went to use the bathroom. She was only gone for a few minutes.¡± I turned back to the body after she said it for the third time. There was so much blood on the concrete it made the dress look like an island of blue floating amid a sea of blackened red. The reek of death was bold enough the crowd must be able to smell it. Whatever had done this, it had acted fast. Too fast to be anything human. One minute the girl had been inside at her winter formal, and now she was out here missing everything that could identify her except her blue dress. Anything that could tear a girl apart¡ªwithout being seen¡ªbefore her friends realized she was gone had to be a monster. Page 7 Reaching behind me, I grabbed for Holden¡¯s hand without looking to see if he would take it. Cold fingers wove through mine, and for once I thought our temperatures might be the exact same. He gave me a reassuring squeeze, and it helped to know he was there, keeping me grounded to the world of the somewhat-living. The song of sirens filled the night, coming closer. ¡°I need to call Mercedes,¡± I whispered, but the words got caught in a cold gust of air and were carried off unheard into the dark. Chapter Seven Holden and I were sitting side by side in an interrogation room, staring at the mirror facing us. I was grateful, not for the first time in my life, that vampires could cast a reflection. Otherwise we¡¯d have some serious explaining to do. I wasn¡¯t too concerned about our situation. If we¡¯d been in any real trouble, they wouldn¡¯t have kept us together. Holden had gone stone-still but was sitting close enough to me I could feel the rise and fall of his forced breaths. For my part, I was trying not to fidget. I wasn¡¯t the biggest fan of small spaces. The door next to the mirror opened, and Detective Nowakowski came in carrying a folder and a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee. I waited for Mercedes to follow him, but he closed the door and took the seat across the table from us. Tyler gave Holden a cold glare, and my vampire escort returned the favor by lifting the corners of his mouth in a telling smirk and putting his hand on my knee. If the contact wasn¡¯t so helpful in soothing my ragged nerves, I might have slapped him. As it was I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms defensively over my chest. ¡°Any word on who she was?¡± I asked, attempting to steer things towards a professional point of discussion. ¡°Her name was Ashley Parsons. She was sixteen and had just been crowned queen of the winter formal, so I¡¯m told.¡± Tyler leaned back in the metal folding chair, its old frame creaking with the shift in weight. ¡°Tell me something, Secret.¡± There was a pause, so I filled it. ¡°Something specific, or just anything that comes to mind?¡± Tyler¡¯s grip tightened on the pen in his hand, and he clenched his jaw. ¡°Tell me how it is that the same night we tell you about this case, you just happen to stumble across a fresh body on your block?¡± ¡°Good old-fashioned dumb luck, I guess.¡± He clicked the end of his pen and wrote something in the folder he had with him. I doubted it was anything important. I also doubted it was my name with little hearts floating around it. ¡°Tyler,¡± I said, my tone serious. ¡°We didn¡¯t find the body. About a hundred high-school students and their teacher did.¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware of that.¡± Holden was busy doing his impression of a gorgeous chair, his hand still on my knee, but he hadn¡¯t spoken yet. Given his history with Tyler, I was thoroughly impressed with how well-behaved he was being. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± He looked surprised but nodded. ¡°Why are we here?¡± ¡°Standard procedure.¡± ¡°No offense, Detective, but bullshit. The on-scene officer took our statements. We didn¡¯t need to be here.¡± Being snippy wasn¡¯t always the best idea when it came to the police, but at least I wasn¡¯t so jumpy anymore. Tyler set his pen down, then took a long sip from his coffee. Whoever had brewed it made a strong pot because the smell of burnt roast filled my nostrils. Every time I swallowed I wanted to ask for extra sugar. I leaned back in my own chair and waited. If we were going to have a staring contest, I wanted to be comfortable. He placed his coffee on the table and began to speak, but I couldn¡¯t hear a word he said. At my side, Holden went tense, and it wasn¡¯t long before I understood why. The aroma of coffee vanished, replaced by something darker and unmistakable. Blood. It was the only scent that could overwhelm all else and drown out my other senses. My breath quivered, and I looked over to Holden. He was no longer pretending to breathe, and his expression was drawn and rigid with control. On my knee, his fingers were squeezing too hard. He was trying to fight back his fangs. A hollow plop noise brought my attention back to Tyler, who was still speaking. The words came to an abrupt end when he caught my horrified expression and both of our gazes fixed on his coffee cup. Something thick and liquid fell into the cup, causing the black coffee to ripple. Then came the sound of raindrops. Only it wasn¡¯t raining. The table in front of us, once boring and beige, became dappled with spots of red. At first I couldn¡¯t believe what I was seeing, until a drop of blood landed on Tyler¡¯s white dress shirt, and then another. One hit his eyebrow and dripped into his eyelashes, causing him to blink spasmodically. All three of us looked up to the ceiling at the same time. The ceiling tiles were stained a red so dark it looked black, but only in a small area right above Tyler. His whole shirt was splattered with blood. We stood from our chairs and stepped back in time to see the tiles sag and the ceiling burst like a festering wound. The table was littered with pieces of broken tile, but among those was the source of the blood. A Christmas stocking, now empty, with a collection of body parts scattered around it. And among them was the worst thing I had ever seen in all my years of hunting vampires and killing pseudo-demonic monsters. The red-headed curls and freckled skin looked especially gruesome given the waxy gray pallor of her complexion, but I knew right away who it was. The image of her decapitated head, still wearing a rhinestone tiara, would haunt me all my life. When Holden and I emerged in the lobby, Desmond and Nolan were waiting for us. One look at my blood-spattered tank top and they both rose to their feet with apprehensive expressions clouding their faces. No one but me looked at Holden, but if my countenance was half as grim as his, I could appreciate why my boys were so worried. Having given my second police statement of the day, I was more than ready to be home. And if the weariness in my bones was any indication, sunlight wasn¡¯t far off. I needed to be in bed and away from the sun before it rose. I was ready for this night to be over. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Desmond asked, obviously trying not to sound too anxious. ¡°It¡¯s not mine.¡± I gestured to the bloodstains on my face and clothes. He pulled me away from Holden and wrapped me in a protective embrace. Normally I might have resisted such a public display of affection, but as it was I was happy to be close to someone. I tucked my head against his chest and breathed in the comforting limey flavor of him. The coiled pressure inside of me unwound, and I relaxed almost instantly. Desmond stroked my hair and held me closer. Holden hung back, and Nolan danced uneasily from foot to foot. ¡°What are you guys doing here?¡± I asked, only now realizing I hadn¡¯t called either of them. ¡°You weren¡¯t at home, so I called the office,¡± Desmond explained. ¡°Nolan explained what you had him looking for, and when you didn¡¯t answer your cell, I called Mercedes to find out if she knew where you were.¡± Now I was going to have to explain to Cedes why I had multiple men claiming to be my boyfriend. That was going to go over swimmingly. For all the times she had demanded I find Mr. Right, I don¡¯t think she expected me to find two at the same time. Yet somehow it really didn¡¯t seem to matter right now. ¡°She said you were here,¡± Nolan finished. ¡°So we came to find out why they were keeping you.¡± Desmond lifted my chin with one finger and stared at me. ¡°What happened?¡± His gaze darted down, looking at the blood. He was definitely misreading the situation, so I had to wonder what Mercedes had told him. I could tell from the look in his eyes he was convinced I was in trouble for something. I wasn¡¯t sure he was wrong. ¡°I didn¡¯t come in like this.¡± He ran a finger over the blood, and it came off still wet. His brows shot up with surprise. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯d like to know.¡± Tyler emerged from the back room. He had changed into a clean shirt, but his face was still red from the clinging streaks of blood he hadn¡¯t been able to clean off. The detective looked at me surrounded by a collection of good-looking men, and the expression on his face made me push Desmond away so I was standing alone. I glared at Tyler defiantly, not in a mood to be judged right then. ¡°Detective Nowakowski.¡± Holden spoke for the first time. ¡°I believe we¡¯ve said all we have to say on this subject to your officers. Miss McQueen and I have been through our fair share of traumatic instances tonight, and I don¡¯t think your suspicions of us have any foundation. If you know something, feel free to book us for it. But as we are guilty of nothing other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, we¡¯d appreciate it if we could leave now.¡± Mercedes had come in about halfway through Holden¡¯s speech and moved to stand between Tyler and us. Tyler¡¯s face had gone red, and I wish I knew why he was so hell-bent on proving me guilty of something. His suspicions went beyond lingering ego bruises. There was a darker element lurking under the surface, and judging by his flushed features and red-hot aura of anger, it was threatening to boil over. ¡°Of course you¡¯re all free to leave,¡± Mercedes said before Tyler had a chance to speak. She shot him a look that said more than words could, and he remained silent. Tyler went back up the stairs into the main workroom, and I nodded my thanks to Mercedes. ¡°Secret,¡± she said, stopping me. She came closer and whispered so the receptionist couldn¡¯t hear. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened in there, and I know you¡¯re not responsible, but this isn¡¯t human and it¡¯s not normal. I need you on this. We can¡¯t stop something that can place a body in the ceiling of a police station and vanish.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°This is up to you now.¡± Chapter Eight Five days later I lay awake as dusk settled over the city, staring up at my ceiling and waiting for the world to cave in on me. The cracked plaster was as changeless as ever, but I was too on edge to look away. I kept expecting blood to start leaking from the cracks and little bits of body to come tumbling out. Page 8 In five days I¡¯d scoured the city top to bottom, and all I¡¯d gotten was more rumors and no real answers. I was out of places to look, out of ideas and out of time. Another body had turned up yesterday, this time in the lobby of Trump Tower, and now the city was in an absolute panic. I didn¡¯t know what to do, and since Mercedes had dumped the responsibility onto my shoulders, she¡¯d also loaded all the guilt and worry that went with it. None of the four missing teens had been found yet, leaving the police and Nolan with unsolved cases. Though part of me was grateful they weren¡¯t among the body count, the realist in me knew it was only a matter of time. I needed a new lead or a clear head. I needed to get my mind off the depressing hamster wheel of unhelpful thoughts it was currently spinning through. My phone started to ring out in the living room, its bubbly Christmas carol ringtone all I could hear in the empty, quiet space of my apartment. It was saying, Secret, get your mopey ass the hell out of bed. Actually it was singing ¡°Baby, It¡¯s Cold Outside¡±. But that wasn¡¯t how I heard it. I threw off the covers and padded into the living room, not bothering to put on a robe over my tank and boy-short undies. Cold wasn¡¯t a problem for me, even with the subpar radiator we had in my apartment. The caller ID screen showed Desmond¡¯s cell, and the fretful despondency I¡¯d felt in bed was shucked off and replaced with a warm glow. ¡°Santa¡¯s workshop,¡± I said with a breathy purr. ¡°Have you been nice¡­or naughty?¡± He groaned, but it didn¡¯t sound like it had anything to do with being put off by my poor attempt at Christmas humor. ¡°If you tell me you¡¯re in a Mrs. Claus costume, I might die.¡± ¡°I¡¯m wearing significantly less than the suggested North Pole uniform.¡± ¡°Tease.¡± ¡°Standing under the mistletoe, too, with no one here to kiss. Oh, wait, is that the door? Knock knock.¡± Then someone did knock on the door, a heavy solid pounding. I went rigid on the spot. When I sniffed the air all I could smell was pine, and with Desmond in my ear I couldn¡¯t hear what might be outside my apartment. ¡°Desmond?¡± ¡°Mmmhmm.¡± It didn¡¯t sound like his voice was echoing on the other side of the door. I stepped onto the bottom ledge of my fireplace and grabbed hold of the katana hanging on the wall, then slid the protective sheath off. In the light of the Christmas tree the steel glinted with the cheerful LED reds and yellows. The power of the old blade hummed in my hand. I had come by ownership of the sword as a fluke late-night purchase, but I often wondered if there was more to the weapon than met the eye. All I needed it to be right then was a weapon quieter than a gun. The knocking at the door resumed, louder this time. ¡°So what are you wearing?¡± Desmond asked, oblivious to my sky-high anxiety. ¡°I¡¯ll be wearing a brand-new werewolf fur coat if you¡¯re playing some sort of trick on me, Desmond Javier Alvarez.¡± I jerked the front door open with a rough gesture while I grasped the sword with my other hand. I kept the phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear and braced myself in an attack stance. The hall was empty. ¡°Trick?¡± Lowering the sword, I poked my head into the hall cautiously. It was a tiny space with nowhere to hide, and there was no one but me there. What the hell? ¡°Secret, what¡¯s going on?¡± Desmond¡¯s voice had taken on a tone of worry, something I liked far less than the heated passionate promise of only minutes earlier. ¡°Nothing. I thought I heard something, but I must have been imagining it.¡± I turned towards the apartment when the front door leading to the street swung open with a loud smack against the interior wall. I yelped with surprise, dropped the phone and held my sword with both hands in preparation for a defensive strike. A dark figure stood silhouetted by the dim streetlights outside, looming in the doorframe without moving. Then I tasted lime and snarled. ¡°Christ, Desmond.¡± He closed his phone with a snap and bypassed the two-step drop by jumping into the landing with a hop. I still held the sword up, but it didn¡¯t look like it fazed him at all. He was sniffing the air with exploratory, careful precision, but judging from the frustrated sigh he let out, he didn¡¯t sense anything more than I had. ¡°What happened?¡± I hated it when he went all business on me. I was standing around in my underwear, wielding a sword. Somewhere a D&D nerd had a contact erection and couldn¡¯t figure out why. My boyfriend, on the other hand, looked deadly serious. ¡°Someone knocked on the door. I thought it was you, but when I opened it up the hall was empty. You suddenly showing up makes me wonder if I wasn¡¯t right the first time.¡± I lowered the sword again because the space in the hall was too limited to risk keeping it up at accidental-impalement levels. Cold air was wafting in from the open door, but it was a dry cold. There was still no snow. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mess around. If you were playing a joke, just tell me.¡± ¡°Secret, I swear to God it wasn¡¯t me.¡± He shut the door, blocking out the chilling wind, and turned to get a good look at me. Seeing I was uninjured and more irritated than scared, a smirk played at his mouth. ¡°What?¡± Yup, definitely irritated. ¡°Nice outfit.¡± I smacked him in the shoulder but had the presence of mind not to do it with my sword hand. His grin widened. ¡°That¡¯s the best you got?¡± This time I punched him in the arm with my real strength, and he winced. I might have felt bad if he didn¡¯t make a lunge for me. My gut reaction was to swing the sword, a response that had killed many more frightening foes than a werewolf in human form. But luck was on Desmond¡¯s side, because I happened to be in love with him and love tended to trump other natural responses. He took full advantage of my hesitation by grabbing me around the waist and snatching the sword out of my hand. So much for that option. Desmond tossed the sword through the open apartment doorway where it bounced over the carpet, scaring the bejeezus out of poor Rio, who hissed at it before hiding under the loveseat. Desmond lifted me as though I weighed nothing¡ªwhich was probably what I felt like to a buff werewolf¡ªand slung me over his shoulder. I wanted to fight, but this angle gave me a fabulous view of his wonderful, toned butt, and I was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with that. He kicked the door closed behind us, and I watched the apartment slide by as I dangled upside down, a curtain of my blonde curls obscuring most of the view. ¡°Aren¡¯t you at all curious about the knocking?¡± I wheezed, the question directed at his tush. He didn¡¯t stop walking until we were in the bedroom, where he heaved me onto the unmade bed. ¡°Do you hear that?¡± he asked, lifting his head and looking around the room. ¡°Hear what?¡± I listened closely but heard nothing. ¡°Nada. Not a damned thing. No knocking.¡± With his coat on the chair and his tie already loosened, I could tell strange noises were the last thing on Desmond¡¯s mind. Getting to my knees, I fixed him with a serious look. ¡°What if it was a monster?¡± My tone was playful, but just saying the word reawakened my guilt. He must have seen the shift in my eyes because he climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of me, cupping my face between his warm, rough hands. The touch of his wide, familiar palms made a sensational heat bloom inside me. If there was one thing Desmond could be counted on for, it was making me forget my problems. ¡°The monsters will always be there, Secret. Let¡¯s just pretend for a little while we don¡¯t know anything about them. Deal?¡± I ran my hand through the thick, dark waves of his hair. It had gotten longer in our time together, and wilder. Sometimes it reminded me of the carefree waves Holden had always favored, but I bit my tongue whenever the comparison sprang to mind. Desmond¡¯s extraordinary violet-gray eyes were searching my face, trying to judge my reaction to his request. I smiled and traced a path from his hair, down his cheek, my fingernails grazing the five o¡¯clock shadow that made him look both mature and dangerous. ¡°Stand up,¡± I whispered. A befuddled look overcame him, but he edged backwards off the bed and complied with my instructions. I crawled towards him, my gaze fixed on his face, and the new expression there was worth every slow, painstaking inch I traveled. When I stopped I was on all fours at the end of the bed, eye level with his Gucci belt buckle. I breathed out a hot, openmouthed sigh, and Desmond groaned. He reached out to touch my hair, but the instant I felt the brush of fingers, I pulled back and shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s not how this is going to work.¡± He raised a single brow and couldn¡¯t hide the smirk threatening to overtake his lips. As patient as he was, his resolve wouldn¡¯t last forever. Werewolves, especially those with Alpha leanings like Desmond, were used to being in control at all times. It had never bothered me that his dominant nature exhibited itself in our bedroom, because I knew it was hard for him to keep it buried in the pack. As Lucas¡¯s second, Desmond couldn¡¯t flaunt his power since he didn¡¯t want to upset the balance. If he wasn¡¯t the king¡¯s lieutenant, he¡¯d be Alpha of another pack, and I wondered if he ever regretted not being given the opportunity. But I had dominant urges too. And with all the stress and pressure that had been mounded on me, I didn¡¯t want that to be one more thing I needed to bury. Tonight I needed to let my freak flag fly. I rose on my knees, the front of my body rubbing against him as I did. His breath came out sharp and raspy. ¡°Secret.¡± ¡°Shh.¡± I twisted my fingers in the Windsor knot of his tie and noticed for the first time that it had festive silver snowflakes embroidered in the silk. The knot came undone without any resistance, and I tugged the tie off him with a precise yank. I pressed into him, licking the bow at the bottom of his lower lip, but when he tried to kiss me I turned my face away. Page 9 He growled, and the rumble of it made goose bumps rise on my arms, while inside the primal part of my inner wolf awoke with a lazy stretch. Only when I was with Desmond could I feel the wolf as her own entity. Usually it made me uneasy, but tonight it fed the fire. I snaked my arms behind his back, and with my face pressed against his shirt, I bit one of his nipples through the soft material. He was distracted enough he didn¡¯t seem to notice his hands were bound behind his back with his tie. Only when I pulled away did he realize it. There was a defiant flash in his eyes, but he must have been willing because he was strong enough to easily get his hands free if he wanted to. He let them stay tied. I smirked at him. ¡°Are you sure you want to give me all this power? Could be dangerous.¡± He gritted his teeth and spoke slowly. ¡°If you just leave me standing here fully clothed¡­¡± I undid his top button and then a second as he spoke, ¡°¡­it could be dangerous for you.¡± With his shirt unbuttoned and pushed off his shoulders, I trailed kisses down his exposed abdomen. ¡°Promise?¡± I asked, casting a coy glance upwards. I bit the leather of his belt and pulled the end tab loose with only my teeth. ¡°You devilish¡ª¡± I undid the rest of the belt with my fingers, and he lost track of his insult when I unzipped his slacks and placed a delicate, teasing kiss on the strained cotton covering his rock-hard erection. I tugged his pants and underwear down. With him exposed, it was all I could do to not unbind him and make him take me then and there. But that would defeat the purpose of the experiment. ¡°Hold that thought,¡± I said, and licked the full length of his shaft. ¡°Or should I say, wait here and don¡¯t hold anything.¡± I leaped off the bed before he could argue, and when I came back I was dangling something from my finger that made Desmond bark with laughter. Dropping onto my knees in front of him, I held the cluster of mistletoe over my head. ¡°Now where should I kiss you first?¡± Chapter Nine My resolve to keep Desmond bound waned with each moment we progressed. Admittedly, when I took him in my mouth and heard the sharp intake of his breath, I longed for the feel of his hands buried in my hair. When you¡¯ve spent as many nights together as Desmond and I had, some things were routine while others were essential parts of contributing to the pleasure. I wanted him to touch me. I needed to feel his hands all over my body. Raking my nails over the firm curvature of his ass, I caught the dangling end of his tie between my fingertips. The instant I pulled his hands free, his fists were balled in my hair, keeping my mouth in place. A growl rumbled through me, and the vibration of it along my tongue made a similar sound slip free of his lips. ¡°God, Secret,¡± he mumbled. I pulled my mouth back until only the tip of his cock remained inside, teasingly favored by the curling and rolling of my tongue. ¡°Enough.¡± His fist tightened in my curls, holding my head steady, trying to keep me still. Out of defiance, I flicked the sensitive spot at the base of the head with the pad of my tongue. He cursed and pulled me to my feet. The hot length of his erection was pressed against my stomach, and through my tank top I could feel the dampness where my mouth had just been. Desmond yanked my top off and tossed it across the room, then captured my mouth in a jarring kiss which I couldn¡¯t have escaped if I tried. I didn¡¯t want to try. Now that he was unbound, I pushed his shirt the rest of the way off, and he kicked his legs free of his pants. ¡°Are you going to stop tormenting me?¡± His lips were at my throat, the words vibrating against my skin as he spoke. I grasped a handful of his hair, pulling his head back so I could show him my defiant smirk. ¡°Make me.¡± He released me long enough to rip my panties off and lift me from the ground before he chucked me back onto the bed. The welcome weight of his body on top of me pressed me into the mattress, and I met his searching mouth with a desperate, anxious kiss that stole my breath and left me gasping. Desmond rose, balancing on his forearms so only the faintest contact remained between us. ¡°Over,¡± he commanded, and I no longer cared which one of us was being the dominant one. I rolled over beneath him, and when he lowered himself I let out a sigh at the feel of his hardness nestled between my legs. I arched my hips up, and he held them off the bed as he used his knee to spread my thighs farther apart. He placed one wide palm on each side of my waist, and before I had a chance to utter a single command, his grip tightened and he drove into me so fiercely I cried out. He slipped one hand under me, fingers deft and full of memory. He found the sensitive, aching place between my legs, and with each new thrust discovered a matching stroke, until I had no sensible sounds left to make and merely panted and repeated his name over and over till it had no meaning. When we were both spent and lying next to each other, slick with sweat and our skin rubbed raw, I let out a short, breathless laugh. ¡°What?¡± He sounded worried my laughter might be at his expense. ¡°Remind me next year¡­¡± I began, and got lost in the giggles, ¡°¡­that mistletoe has more than one valid use.¡± We must have drifted off, because when I opened my eyes again the clock on my nightstand told me over an hour had passed. Desmond was on his stomach, snoring softly, and for a few moments I lay next to him and listened to the sound of his breathing. It was almost enough to soothe me back to sleep. Then I heard the knocking. It wasn¡¯t as loud as it had been earlier, but it was definitely the same sound, and the closeness of the noise made me go rigid. Before, it had come from my front door. Now the tapping was mere feet away, in the hallway outside my bedroom. Tap, tap, tap, it demanded. Had it been steadier I might have written it off as another foible of my aging apartment, like my banging pipes. But there was enough pausing and alteration in the sound to make it much more mysterious than bad plumbing. ¡°Holden?¡± I didn¡¯t think it was him. He was far less subtle about his entrances. But for the time being I would rather it be a vampire in my boudoir than anything else. Or a burglar. A burglar would be awesome. At least that would be something tangible that I would know how to handle. There was no response from the hallway. I climbed out of bed and did my best not to interrupt Desmond¡¯s slumber. He didn¡¯t move. Taking a cotton chemise out of the dresser, I covered myself up. No sense in running naked into an attempted robbery. There was a soft glow from the hall, and I assumed it was from the Christmas tree until I reached the living room. The tree wasn¡¯t lit up. I reached for the nearest light switch, but the lights didn¡¯t respond. From under the couch Rio was yowling in a low, drawn-out wail. My katana was still lying beside the tree, so I picked it up but kept the blade pointed at the floor. I didn¡¯t yet know what I was up against, and I didn¡¯t need to accidentally skewer a burglar when a good ass-kicking would suffice. I could picture Tyler¡¯s face if I ended up back at the police station, this time having killed a human. He¡¯d never let me leave. The shift from his being spurned to now having it in for me was shocking and more than a little meddlesome. And now that the Tribunal was watching my every move, I didn¡¯t think a nosy detective would last long if he kept getting involved in my business. Tyler needed to butt out for his own good. The knocking began again, but before I could turn to find it, my figure was silhouetted against the living room wall, an unfamiliar blue-white light emanating from behind me the source of the illumination. Now would be a good time to raise the sword. I complied with my inner critic and lifted the katana as I spun around to see what was casting the eerie light. It took me a moment to adjust to the localized glow and look down to see where it was coming from. ¡°What the¡­?¡± A girl in a pretty tea-length party dress stood a few feet in front of me. Girl probably wasn¡¯t the right word. She had a rounded face and her hair was a mess of curls, which was probably how mine looked right now, but she also had boobs and hips, which marked her as a teenager and not a child. I couldn¡¯t make out any of her coloring because she was, by and large, almost transparent. The blue-hued light was radiating off her, and she cast a glassy, opaque-eyed glance up to me. ¡°I¡¯m dreaming, right?¡± The ghost girl stared at me. I guess it¡¯s pretty hard to speak if you have no lungs. She shimmered, fading from view before reforming back into something I could actually see. When she brushed against my front door I heard the knocking sound, a soft tapping, though she never raised her hands. Weird. It had to be a dream. Only my dreams were fucked up enough to make the ghost of a dead teenage girl show up in my living room. The tiara was the kicker. This was the girl who¡¯d died down the block and had been stowed away in the ceiling of the police station. I had to be dreaming. Thanks a heap, overactive imagination. If I was dreaming, the sword was sort of a moot point. Not to mention the ineffectuality of using one against a ghost. It¡¯s not like you can cut a ghost in half, so I put the katana on the loveseat. ¡°All right, spirit guide,¡± I said, crossing my arms over my chest. ¡°Dazzle me with your subconscious enlightenment.¡± She drifted towards the door and I followed. Must be nice to be dead¡ªnone of the pesky walking nonsense. The ghost passed through the door, and even in a dream I knew that wasn¡¯t an option for me, so I opened it and trailed behind her as she moved up to street level. In front of my building she hovered in the air, waiting for me with a dull, patient expression. I walked into the middle of the street, my bare feet chilled by the cold December cement. Wait. Cold? I¡¯d never experienced cold in a dream before. At least not so lucidly. In the past, the closest I¡¯d come was knowing I should be cold, and reacting in kind. But the temperature of the night shot through my body as surely as if I¡¯d been dropped into an ice-cold lake. Page 10 ¡°Is this a dream?¡± I demanded. The girl shook her head and continued to drift down the block, her spirit so weightless she could be carried on the whim of a winter draft. Now I was torn. I¡¯d followed her out here believing I was dreaming, but now that I was exposed to the cold and standing barefoot wearing only a chemise, I was pretty sure it was real. Which meant I could either go after her, or go back inside and pretend it hadn¡¯t happened. A gust blew down the street, rustling the hem of my nightgown and reminding me that in spite of my resistance to cold and the lack of snow outside, it was still December. The girl had stopped moving a few apartments away and was staring at me with mute patience. Her dress billowed in the wind as if she were still real. What the hell, I decided. If Sig¡ªwho never seemed to wear shoes anywhere¡ªcould navigate the city barefoot, then I could as well. Behind me on 9th, traffic whisked past at a normal clip, but here on West 52nd we might as well have been alone in the universe. ¡°Okay,¡± I told her. ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± A few of my neighbors had Christmas lights strung up on their fire escapes or balconies, or glinting from inside their windows, lending the street an eerie festive quality that didn¡¯t mesh with what I was doing. I traipsed after the ghost, but she didn¡¯t stir. She waited for me near the stoop of the dark apartment, and when I reached her she motioned upwards. A zigzagging sprawl of rusted iron fire escape snaked up the front of the building. When I looked back at her she was still pointing up and nodding. I grumbled, chiding myself for not thinking to put on underwear, and then hopped up on the concrete handrail. The bottom rung of the fire escape was a good ten feet up, and it had been a long time since I¡¯d needed to do anything quite so physical. In the last six months most of my athletics had been restricted to running or bleeding. ¡°Fuck.¡± It¡¯s only ten feet. You can do this. I crouched low, closing my eyes to concentrate. I pictured the fire escape, pictured myself hitting it, then with one last steadying breath I jumped. The iron smashed into my ribs and I scrambled to get hold of the grated floor, my grasping hands snagging one of the rough bars before I fell. I was left dangling, holding the fire escape with one hand while I swayed beneath it catching my breath. My ghost was on the platform now, staring down and motioning for me to follow her still. ¡°Persistent little thing, aren¡¯t you?¡± Turning my body so I faced away from the fire escape, I swung backwards and forwards like a trapeze artist gaining momentum. Once my legs came higher than the height of my arms, I propelled them back over my head and let go. I landed on my knees, skinning them on the metal. I hissed and gave the ghost an unhappy look as blood oozed to the surface. Once again she pointed up. At least this time I could take the stairs. When we reached the roof, all of New York was laid out before us, sparkling like a Christmas fairy tale. The ghost stood on the edge of the rooftop, and even though she was already dead, my stomach churned nervously to see her perched so close to falling. She was staring east and turned to look at me over her shoulder. Her tiara glittered in the moonlight. ¡°What do you want me to see?¡± I pleaded, moving to stand next to her. With her ghostly hand, she touched my cheek, and a chill stung me. She motioned again, her hand coming right through my face so I could see which way her finger pointed. ¡°Long Island?¡± The chill left me, and when I looked at her she smiled. Then a breeze skirted the rooftop and she broke apart like fog, vanishing into the night. Chapter Ten ¡°Tell me exactly what she said.¡± Desmond was kneeling in front of me while I sat on the edge of my pink bathtub. He was dutifully cleaning my ravaged knees, getting out slivers of rust before my body healed itself. He wore his black boxer briefs and a rumpled gray tank top, and his hair stuck out in all directions. Seeing him like this stirred my blood with something different than simple lust. I put my hand on his muscular shoulder and squeezed when he removed a shard of metal from my skin. ¡°She didn¡¯t say anything. She was a ghost.¡± He dropped the washcloth onto the floor and rocked back on his heels, crouching before me with a predatory stare. It was easy for me to forget there was a monster in him, but sometimes he let it drift to the surface. In those moments he could scare the hell out of me. He didn¡¯t have to say anything else. ¡°She wanted me to see Long Island,¡± I told him. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± And I really didn¡¯t. I knew where she¡¯d died. I could step out my front door and see the school. So she wasn¡¯t directing me to anywhere that would hold clues to her death. But there was something across the river she wanted me to know about, something I had to look for. I¡¯d searched all of Manhattan, so maybe it was time to start looking farther afield. Desmond got to his feet and pulled me up with him. He brushed my tempest-strewn hair behind my ears. In turn, I tried to pat down his own wild waves. ¡°Are you sure you weren¡¯t dreaming?¡± I looked down at my knees¡ªalready mostly healed¡ªthen back to him. ¡°Okay,¡± he admitted. ¡°Stupid question.¡± ¡°Trust me, I wish I knew what she wanted. Long Island isn¡¯t the most helpful clue.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be there tomorrow night. So if your ghost wants you to see anything in and around Sunnyside, she¡¯s in luck.¡± I faked a smile, but he wasn¡¯t buying it. ¡°I¡¯m going to give you an early Christmas present. I think it¡¯ll cheer you up,¡± he said. I nestled closer and palmed his package, my eyes going innocent and inquiring. ¡°You¡¯re insatiable.¡± He laughed, letting me fondle him for a moment before gently pushing my hand away. ¡°But I think you¡¯ll like this more.¡± I snorted. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve cloned yourself and we¡¯re about to have a very confusing three-way, I doubt it.¡± Immediately I wanted to take the words back. Desmond and I had been in a massively confusing threesome, only he didn¡¯t know about it. I¡¯d discovered one hell of a doozy side effect from my vampire connection with Holden, and had spent six months trying to forget our little mental m¨¦nage. Leading me by the hand, Desmond took us into the living room and guided me to the loveseat. ¡°Stay,¡± he commanded with a smirk, then vanished down the hall. ¡°Who taught you to be so bossy?¡± His rumbling chuckle preceded him back into the main room, where he stood in front of me with his hands behind his back. There was a wicked glint in his eyes. ¡°Pick a hand.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kidding me.¡± Desmond huffed and tapped his foot on the carpet. I held out a little longer, crossing my arms and leaning back into the couch, pretending not to care. When it became obvious he wasn¡¯t going to give in, I sighed and pointed to his right arm. He showed me an empty palm. Now I was both curious and annoyed, so I indicated his left side. He handed me a wood box, then stepped back and hugged his chest, watching me. It was like a cat dropping a dead bird at your feet and hanging back to see if you¡¯ll praise it. The box was a little over a foot long and made from a lightly stained teak, engraved with two cranes taking flight. In spite of the delicacy of the box itself, the package had a decent weight to it, which I balanced on my palms as I opened the gold clasp with my thumb. Inside, nestled amongst the folds of black velvet, was a dagger. It shone silver under the ceiling light, and I gave it an exploratory poke. ¡°Steel,¡± he said, which I confirmed when my finger didn¡¯t get all rashy. The blade was two-sided and had an old-fashioned vibe about it. The handle was wound in black leather, and a red tassel dangled from the base. ¡°So pretty.¡± ¡°Well, I figured you might need something for days when the katana is a bit too¡­conspicuous.¡± Some men buy jewelry. My man went for the heart and bought weapons. I held the knife up to the light and twirled it in my hand, testing the weight. It had a nice heft. I didn¡¯t like to be in such close range in a fight, but my life had been saved by a switchblade once, so a pretty dagger could only be an improvement. Under the velvet was a leather sheath with two thin bindings I could use to fasten it to my leg. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Not much good against a ghost, I know¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡± There must be a lot of good jokes that start with two vampires walked into a bar, but later that night when Brigit Stewart and I found ourselves at a Chelsea club called Thirst, I wasn¡¯t in a laughing mood. This girls¡¯ night out was all business. Well, business and a gin martini or two. Brigit tapped her high heel against the leg of her barstool. We were checking out guys, but not in a way I should have felt guilty about. I had too many men as it was. I wasn¡¯t on the prowl to add anyone else to the compound Big Love style. We were here in a strictly professional capacity. Though I¡¯d been promoted to the Tribunal, she was still my ward. And more than that, I would always feel responsible for her. I hadn¡¯t made her a vampire, but the one who had hadn¡¯t taught her how to exist as one. That was up to me. The girl with a pulse. Around us, the club pulsed with a life of its own. A new Kanye West single threatened to earworm me if I could only stop feeling the bass in my skull. Scantily clad girls ground their pelvises against every available surface¡ªboys, other girls, poles. It was a jackpot of skeeze. The men weren¡¯t much better. There was so much hair gel, aftershave and Ed Hardy here I wondered if we¡¯d teleported to Jersey by mistake. ¡°What about that one?¡± I pointed to a buff, vacant-looking brunet. ¡°Ugh. No. Geez, does being in a relationship, like, ruin you for seeing hotness?¡± The hour was closing in on midnight, and I¡¯d left Desmond to sleep. My nocturnal schedule meant I was wide awake and still needed to blow off some steam after my ghostly encounter. So I¡¯d called the one friend I could count on to be up for a late-night cocktail. Page 11 Brigit Stewart looked impossibly beautiful tonight. She wore a strapless red satin dress and had her long blonde hair blown out to perfection. Her pale skin had lost the orange tone of the boxed tanning she¡¯d indulged in during her life and now radiated with a cool, milky glow. Death suited her. ¡°Hey, Bri, I need to ask you a bit of a weird favor.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± She didn¡¯t hesitate or ask for details. ¡°There¡¯s been some talk around the city lately of something strong enough to take out a shifter, and I think it might be the monster I¡¯m looking for. They won¡¯t tell me much at the vampire bars. Can you keep an ear to the ground and just tell me if anything comes up you think might help me?¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Brigit nodded and gave me a megawatt smile. I knew her mind was otherwise occupied, but I also knew I could rely on her to help me out if she could. At this point I needed to use every resource I had. ¡°Heeeey, baby.¡± A guy in a fancy¡ªalbeit wrinkled¡ªsuit slid onto the stool next to mine. I acknowledged him but didn¡¯t smile. No sense in encouraging Slobbery McDrunkface into thinking he had a shot. Who was I kidding? Drunk guys in suits always thought they had a shot. He put his hand on my bare thigh an inch below the hem of my black shorts and eyeballed my yellow backless halter top like it was an invitation. My jaw strained under the pressure of my teeth grinding together, and my hands balled into fists. Oblivious to my demeanor, he pressed on. ¡°You and your sisssster should come paaaaarty.¡± He rubbed his nose and grinned. ¡°Ew,¡± Brigit groaned. ¡°Are you retarded?¡± The man¡¯s hand spasmed on my thigh, sending a chill of repulsion through me. A film of confusion clouded his features, and I could smell his anger before I saw it surface on his face. ¡°Listen¡ª¡± He didn¡¯t get a chance to finish. ¡°No, you listen,¡± I whispered so only he would hear me. ¡°I¡¯ve been about as patient with you as I¡¯m going to be. Get your hand off my leg, or forfeit it to me.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Get it off, or I keep it. That goes for any other part of you that tries to touch me or my¡­sister.¡± Brigit smiled, and from what I could see of her face without looking away from the man, she had a gleam in her eyes. Eyes that were no longer blue. ¡°Secret?¡± I looked from Grabby Hands to Brigit and saw how dark her irises had gotten, as though the pupils were trying to overtake her whole eye. She leaned across me, bracing her hands on my right thigh, and locked her gaze on the douche in the suit. ¡°You want to have some fun?¡± Her voice was a throaty growl, full of sinful promise. ¡°This guy?¡± Her stare never wavered, but she gave an imperceptible nod. I guess I didn¡¯t have much say in this. After all, it wasn¡¯t my hunt. The music changed to something slower with an animalistic throbbing rhythm that shook my pulse and sent a thrill down my spine. Propping my elbows on the bar at my back, I let Brigit and the suit make eyes at each other while each of them held one of my thighs. It must have looked promisingly scandalous because a few people gave us lewd voyeuristic glances as they gathered their drinks. ¡°You want to leave with us,¡± Brigit told him. A wheezy breath escaped his slack-jawed mouth, but apart from that he only nodded mutely. Drunks were so easy to thrall it was almost funny. The human equivalent of an old, weak antelope, most vampires didn¡¯t bother with them because there was no challenge in it. But Brigit had only been a vampire for nine months and was still learning how to enthrall humans, so a drunk was a safe place to start. Now we needed to confirm she could feed from him without losing control. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said. ¡°Follow me. Don¡¯t get lost,¡± she instructed her too-willing prey. It was amazing how much smoother Brigit¡¯s speech ran when she was out for the feed. There were no halting nonsense words. No likes or ya knows. Every word was purposeful, like she couldn¡¯t spare any extras and still enthrall someone. Brigit got to her feet and took the man¡¯s hand, which I was thrilled to have off my leg. I brushed the skin of my thigh with my bone-dry palm, trying to get the smell off me. It was no use. Desmond would know the second I got home. My vampire prot¨¦g¨¦e weaved gracefully across the dance floor with her midnight snack in tow. He was less capable of dodging the flailing dancers and kept getting jostled and elbowed in his attempt to follow Brigit. Shadowing them, I managed to escape the dance floor unscathed, though one brave soul did grab my hand and try to force me to dance with him. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I growled, bracing myself to put up a bit of a fight, but the guy raised his hands palms out in a gesture of surrender. Smart man. Outside I found my odd couple in the alley adjacent to the club. The music had been whittled down until only the bass notes remained, pounding in the night like a woodpecker on a mite-infested maple. My boots announced my arrival with a sharp clicking on the concrete. Breath hung around my head, as it did around the man Brigit was pressed against. Only she remained breathless. She¡¯d caged him between her arms and was leaning her full weight into the front of his body to make sure he stayed put. Judging by his glassy-eyed lack of focus, I was pretty sure running was the last thing on his mind. ¡°Okay, Bri, are you ready for this?¡± Instead of verbalizing her reply she licked his neck, eliciting a low moan from him, then she fixed her jet-black gaze on me. It was a little too erotic for my taste, but that¡¯s vampires for you. I tucked my hands in the back pockets of my shorts and nodded to her quarry. ¡°No time like the present.¡± Her fangs were already out, and she was close to diving for his throat when I coughed to regain her attention. It was a testament to her control she was able to stop herself. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Not the neck. Too risky.¡± I held up my arm and waved at her, pointing to my wrist. She groaned and I think she rolled her eyes, but it was hard to say without any visible white. When she grabbed his hand and tore open the vein with fierce precision, it was clear she wouldn¡¯t let me interrupt again. All I could think was, I wonder if I looked like that when I fed from Lucas. Brigit¡¯s victim let out a yip of pain, but soon after, his eyes rolled backwards and his noises took on a more euphoric quality. No fair. Whenever I got bitten by a vampire it hurt like a sonofabitch. I had to give Brigit credit, though. She¡¯d enthralled him properly and as long as she stopped feeding after an appropriate withdrawal had been made, I¡¯d be willing to say she was ready to hunt alone. A human could only lose so much blood before a feeding became a murder, and as a good rule of thumb there was a one-minute time frame between the opening of a vein and the end of the meal. I was counting off the seconds in my head. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine¡­ Brigit gasped and drew her head back, her lips and chin smeared with blood. She looked grisly, but she¡¯d done it. Licking his wound clean, she resisted the urge to take another sip, and her saliva started to work its creepy vampire magic. On humans, at least living ones, saliva or blood from the undead worked to heal wounds made by the undead. Once a human had been killed, those wounds could no longer be fixed, so it was often possible to see a sire¡¯s bite mark on a baby vamp after it had risen. The jelly-kneed man was slumped against the building, panting like he¡¯d had the greatest orgasm of his life. Brigit, his blood still on her face, grabbed his chin and smiled at him. He didn¡¯t fight or seem at all alarmed. ¡°You got a quickie behind the bar,¡± she purred. ¡°It was good, wasn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Y-yes.¡± ¡°When you get home you won¡¯t remember my face or my friend. And you¡¯ll stop being a douche to girls at the bar, ¡¯kay?¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Oh, and you¡¯ll never wear that cologne again. It¡¯s gross.¡± I suppressed a laugh. Leave it to Brigit to give her vic a lesson on hygiene. She bounded over to me, skipping on her heels, then stood in front of me like an eager schoolgirl. I handed her the wet nap I¡¯d brought from home and kept in my back pocket with this purpose in mind. I¡¯d seen Brigit eat before, and she sometimes got a little carried away. She tore open the square packet to clean her face. ¡°You did great,¡± I reported. She squealed and clapped her hands together. ¡°Now can we stop at your place? I need to find something to wear tomorrow.¡± ¡°What¡¯s tomorrow?¡± she asked. ¡°I meet the scariest being ever. My boyfriend¡¯s mom.¡± Chapter Eleven Christmas Eve didn¡¯t feel right without snow. I¡¯m not much of a traditionalist, but I did grow up in Canada, and Christmas without snow was just plain wrong. I was sitting on the loveseat in my living room, tugging nervously at the sweater I¡¯d borrowed from Brigit. It was a pretty white angora knit with short cap sleeves and a purple-and-green Fair Isles pattern across the chest. It was a bit more cocoa-at-the-ski-lodge than Christmas-with-the-parents, but it beat anything I had in my closet. My pants selection was an even mix of denim and leather, and jeans didn¡¯t seem appropriate, so leather it was. After trying a half-dozen different styles, I¡¯d given up and pulled my hair into a ponytail with the loose curls draping down my back. Pine needles were drizzled over the low pile carpet, and the whole apartment smelled of deep woods and the faint, clinging tendrils of Desmond¡¯s baking. These were the smells that tugged at memory and rooted you to a place in time. While my knees might be jostling in a nervous beat, I couldn¡¯t help but be warmed by the rightness of the apartment and how it felt like a home. Desmond emerged from the bedroom wearing a hunter-green sweater vest over a crisp white shirt. The green deepened the gray hue of his eyes, almost blotting out the violet wash I loved so much. He was playing with the tie in his hands, smirking at a private thought, and when he looked up at me my heart stopped. Page 12 God help me, I loved him so much it made my chest hurt. He smiled, showing off his straight white teeth, then darted his tongue between the pearly rows to moisten winter-chapped lips. ¡°You ready for this?¡± He must have thought better of the tie because he tossed it behind me onto the headrest of the couch, where it draped over Rio¡¯s flicking tail. The kitten was elated to be offered a new toy and dug her tiny claws into the silk. My bouncing knees captured his attention, and his smile faltered as he sat on the arm of the loveseat. It was a miniscule comfort to have him rub the meridian between my shoulders. It would have helped if he said I could bail on dinner, but no such luck. Rio wrapped herself up in the tie and tumbled off the couch, falling to the floor with a thud. The one cat in the world who failed to land on her feet and she was all mine. ¡°How long until Dominick gets here?¡± I had a wicked idea in mind to distract myself from the fear of meeting Momma Alvarez. Desmond checked his watch, and the simple act of seeing him read the fancy, large timepiece on his wrist sent a thrill through me. There was something erotic about a man who wore an expensive-looking watch. I think it affected the same smitten-receptors as seeing James Bond in a suit. I grabbed his hand and pulled him off the arm of the couch and onto me. His weight was comforting, and I wriggled against him until my body was molded alongside his. ¡°Hi,¡± he said. His face was mere inches from mine and alight with amusement. His breath smelled of minty toothpaste and was warm on my lips. A simple taste test confirmed his tongue to be hint-of-mint fresh, with his distinctive lime aftertaste. ¡°You taste good.¡± I sighed. ¡°You taste like cookies.¡± He kissed me gently, with the easy sweetness of a familiar lover. With his body on mine he was free to cup my cheeks between his palms and lavish tender, delicate kisses over my forehead, jaw and throat with the softness of butterfly wings. My original plan to ravish him with a Christmas Eve quickie dissolved with each pass of his mouth. Even the moisture-deprived roughness of his lips didn¡¯t take me out of the simple, innocent indulgence of the moment. When his road trip of kisses came home to my mouth, I held his face as he¡¯d held mine and kissed the tip of his nose. He smiled, and with him this close I could see the lilac of his eyes. ¡°Love you.¡± I kissed each of his dark eyebrows. ¡°Good. Then you have to come meet my mom.¡± Eyes that had been heavy-lidded with a love-drunk complacency snapped open. ¡°Tricksy werewolf.¡± ¡°Gonna blame it on my lupine mojo?¡± ¡°Pff. Like you have any mojo.¡± The hardness against my thigh and the frenzied heat building in my pants belied my insult, but I stuck to my guns. He smiled and kissed me, grazing my lower lip between his teeth. ¡°I¡¯m not opposed to playing dirty.¡± I quirked my eyebrow at him. ¡°Oh, no? Well if that¡¯s how this game is being scored, I¡¯d like a chance to spike your volley¡­or, you know, a cooler sports metaphor than volleyball.¡± Desmond laughed but obliged me by sitting up so I could scoot out from under him. Standing in front of the couch so my hips were level with his eyes, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it up, giving him an eyeful of my brand-new leather corset. Unfortunately that was also the moment Dominick chose to let himself into my apartment. ¡°I¡¯m just saying there¡¯s a time and a place¡­¡± ¡°How many times do I have to apologize?¡± I grumbled from the backseat of Dominick¡¯s Prius. He¡¯d separated Desmond and me for the short drive to Long Island, and my Alvarez brother wasn¡¯t helping things with all his snickering in the front. ¡°When apologies can cleanse my mind of the image of you straddling my brother¡ª¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t straddling him!¡± But Dominick was on a roll and there was no stopping him. ¡°Practically molesting him, half naked, no less.¡± ¡°I was fully clothed,¡± I snarled. In the rearview mirror I caught Dominick¡¯s grin, and ever the mature adult woman I was, I stuck my tongue out at him. ¡°Now, now. I don¡¯t know where that¡¯s been.¡± Desmond laughed so hard he snorted, and only regained his composure long enough to keep me from diving into the front seat to throttle his brother. ¡°I can tell you a long list of places it may never go again.¡± I gave Desmond a pointed glare, but he was unabashed, chuckling like a twelve-year-old watching Porky¡¯s on late-night cable. We¡¯d driven south through Manhattan since the Queensboro Bridge was the closest exit to Sunnyside and Casa de Alvarez. After a harrowing, white-knuckled, ten-minute drive across the bridge we were on Long Island, but considering there wasn¡¯t much difference between Sunnyside and Hell¡¯s Kitchen, it felt like I was still home. Queen¡¯s Boulevard had the same seedy reputation as my neck of the woods. On some levels those reputations were deserved, but on the flip side even Park Avenue had an underbelly. At least places like Hell¡¯s Kitchen rolled over and showed their unseemly tummy to the world, like a fat cat waiting for a good scratch. Twenty-four-hour fruit stands with nothing to sell this late in the season adorned every other corner, broken up by Colombian takeout and about a hundred restaurants claiming to have the ¡°best pizza in New York¡±. Their claims were served with a grain of salt since New York proper glittered like a festive grand dame across the East River. The Empire State Building was aglow in seasonal red and green, her spindle piercing the dark sky as though it could be popped open like a confetti balloon and release our missing snow. Dominick navigated up a narrow street lined with a crush of tall, lean houses stacked side by side. He wove through the maze of parked and idling cars, receiving a few well-placed honks and a one-finger salute from a burly cab driver. ¡°Puta madre,¡± Dominick swore, taking a turn onto another one-way, then back in the direction we¡¯d come. It was the first time I¡¯d heard any hint of his Spanish upbringing. Sunnyside was a mess of cramped one-way streets, making it a frustrating task to get where you wanted to be. I might have a fancy car, but I hated driving inside the urban sprawl. Give me a back-country road and I¡¯ll go for hours, but in the city I get grumpy and angry in the span of minutes. The car came to a stop in front of a clean white house jammed in a row of nearly identical brown and white homes. The wrought-iron front gate had a wreath hanging on it, and through the front window I could see a dazzling Christmas tree done in hues of blue and silver. ¡°You guys might as well take the stuff in. I¡¯ll need to circle the block.¡± Sure enough, there was no miracle parking space out front like I always seemed blessed with at home. Desmond and I got out and loaded up with armfuls of gifts. When we burst through the front door a flash of darkness leaped at us, and Desmond barely had time to drop his packages and catch his sister mid-flight. Penny was talking a mile a minute, and it didn¡¯t sound like she was planning to take a break any time soon. I put my gifts down next to Desmond¡¯s and listened to her story. ¡°¡­.so I told Becky McNamara she could take her iPod and stuff it because I was going to get the best present ever, way better than a stupid iPod.¡± She started dragging parcels into the living room, hauling the front-entrance runner with them, leaving me standing on bare hardwood. I shucked off my coat and boots, using it as an excuse to check out Desmond¡¯s childhood home. The house was cramped but meticulously organized. Photos in mismatched frames spanning over two decades hung on every flat wall in the house. Everything from the Alvarez¡¯s wedding portrait to the obligatory embarrassing school photos. Desmond and Dominick¡¯s graduation photos were displayed side by side at the bottom of the staircase. Aside from his gel-spiked hairstyle, Desmond hadn¡¯t changed much. Dominick was the real shocker. His portrait showed him a good twenty pounds heavier with a mane of long, blond hair. I chuckled softly. Next to the boys was Penny¡¯s most recent school photo, her grinning sixth-grade pose. She was the spitting image of Desmond, dark wavy hair and big pale eyes. That smiling photo stole all the levity from the moment, because she could have been any of those missing teens. Turning from the stairs, I drifted into the living room with its old-school eighties sofas and a small television, where Penny was checking through the bags to see which gifts were for her. She found the big one from me and Desmond and went to shake it, but her brother stopped her. ¡°Be patient, Pen. Soon enough.¡± ¡°Is it better than an iPod?¡± Not being twelve, I didn¡¯t know where a Wii ranked on the coolness scale, but I said, ¡°Way better.¡± For the first time since we¡¯d arrived, Penny acknowledged my existence. She gave me a silent once-over that made me more nervous than a vampire eyeballing my jugular. Then she hopped to her feet and marched up to me, sticking out her hand. I looked to Desmond for help, but he rested his chin on his hand and watched us with a smile. ¡°Penelope Alvarez,¡± she introduced with startling formality. ¡°You can call me Penny if you want.¡± ¡°Secret McQueen,¡± I replied and gave her hand a firm shake. ¡°You can call me Secret.¡± ¡°Is that your real name?¡± ¡°Penny!¡± This came from the dining room doorway and was said with the tone only irritated mothers know how to use. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡± I winked at Penny as her mother came through the door drying her hands on a dishtowel. Desmond¡¯s mother was his exact opposite. She was a few inches taller than five feet and had the delicate build of a ballerina. She was fair-skinned and had dirty-blonde hair streaked through with gray. On her it looked like expensive highlights. Now I knew where Dominick fit in. I¡¯d often marveled at how two such different men came from the same family without a visit from the milkman being involved. ¡°You¡¯re really pretty. Your hair looks like Taylor Swift¡¯s. And she dated that guy who was a werewolf in Twilight, and you date a werewolf too.¡± Page 13 ¡°We¡¯re practically twins,¡± I agreed. ¡°Are your pants leather?¡± I looked down, embarrassed to be called on it by a tween in a pleated tartan skirt. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s cool.¡± ¡°Penelope, stop pestering Secret,¡± her mother ordered, snapping her playfully with the hand towel. The family matriarch came to stand before me, giving me the same assessing look her daughter had. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you, dear. Nice to put a face to the girl who got my Desi to move out of the penthouse.¡± ¡°Desi?¡± I tried to hide the laugh bubbling up. I failed. Desmond shot me a look. ¡°I¡¯m Grace.¡± We shook hands. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like turkey and Oil of Olay, with a hint of Giorgio Beverly Hills perfume lingering on her clothes. It wasn¡¯t fresh, so she must have worn the fragrance regularly. ¡°Secret.¡± She already knew my name, but it would have been rude to leave her introduction unanswered. ¡°It smells great in here.¡± It did smell spectacular, and though I didn¡¯t typically eat real food, the aroma of turkey, gravy and baked yams made my stomach growl. Grandmere never went overboard on food at holiday meals because she was only cooking for herself. But I gathered cooking for a family of adult werewolves meant food had to be plentiful. ¡°Desi, honey, I need some onions for the stuffing. Can you run up to Paradiso¡ª?¡± ¡°I can go,¡± Penny insisted. ¡°Penny.¡± Grace¡¯s tone was weary and definitive. I was amazed by how much mothers could say without saying much of anything. ¡°Mom.¡± The look on Penny¡¯s face spoke volumes. In a house filled with male werewolves it must have been difficult for her to be given any independence, especially when she was so much younger than her brothers. Alpha males were overprotective by their very nature. I also knew a thing or two about being condescended to and I wanted to stand up for the girl, but it wasn¡¯t my place. ¡°It¡¯s just down the block, Mom.¡± Desmond came to his sister¡¯s rescue. ¡°And Dominick is still out there trying to find parking, which might take him until the New Year. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be fine.¡± Overwhelmed by sudden apprehension, I bit my lip and resisted the urge to speak up. My mind was full of images of body parts and Christmas stockings like the ones hanging on the window ledge next to the tree. One of which bore my name. Swelling emotions threatened to undo me. I wanted to protect Penny, but from what? No new youths had gone missing in weeks, none of the bodies belonged to anyone younger than Ashley Parsons, and I didn¡¯t want to make anyone worry unjustly. So I held my tongue. ¡°Okay.¡± Grace caved under the pressure of her children¡¯s collective gazes and plucked a five-dollar bill from her purse, which was waiting on the dining room table like it knew it would be needed. ¡°But no lollygagging. Straight there and home, understand?¡± Penny¡¯s response was lost to me. I was too shocked that someone other than my grandmere used the word lollygagging. Chapter Twelve A half hour later Christmas was the last thing on our minds. Dominick hung up the phone in the kitchen and came back into the living room with a grim expression on his face. ¡°The police say there¡¯s nothing they can do. They ¡®appreciate our concern¡¯, but she hasn¡¯t been gone long enough for them to classify her as a missing person.¡± Grace nodded, keeping her cool remarkably well for a mother whose daughter had vanished off the street. But judging by the hard set of her jawline and the death grip she had on the dishcloth, the calm exterior was a lie. The house was still filled with the homey scents of dinner being prepared, only now something was burning and it made the situation feel more dismal somehow. The front door banged open, greeting us with a wall of cold air, and Dominick, Grace and I all pivoted towards it. Desmond gave a halfhearted apologetic smile and came into the room, still wearing his coat. He knelt in front of his mother and took her hands, rubbing them between his own in a gesture meant to comfort. His news wouldn¡¯t be good. ¡°Eddie at the Paradiso said she came and went. I asked all the neighbors, but she didn¡¯t stop anywhere and no one remembers seeing anything.¡± Grace¡¯s breath heaved and finally she broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks, seeming to multiply with each wretched sigh. The towel fell from her hands. I stared at the front door and found myself unable to tear my eyes from it. I kept picturing Penny the way she looked as she left, with her bright red parka and her white hat with its oversize yarn pom-pom that bounced up and down when she trotted down the steps. I shouldn¡¯t have let her go. Guilt clawed at the inside of my stomach, and looking around the room I could see I wasn¡¯t alone. Everyone seemed like they were being eaten alive by their own misgivings. Each of us must be wondering how things would be right now if we had done something differently. What if I¡¯d spoken up, or Desmond had gone instead, or Dominick had seen her on the street? Could we have prevented any of this from happening? My phone rang and we all jumped. ¡°Sorry,¡± I whispered, scrambling to silence the inappropriately cheerful ringer. It was the office. Giving Desmond a nod, I said, ¡°I have to take this.¡± In the kitchen I kept my volume as low as possible. ¡°Nolan?¡± ¡°Secret, I think I found somethin¡¯.¡± I could tell from the tone of his voice he was excited, and I hoped whatever was causing his excitement might provide the Alvarezes a little comfort. ¡°Do you know what¡¯s doing this?¡± ¡°Not exactly.¡± My heart fell like a deflated balloon. ¡°Then I really need¡ª¡± ¡°The deaths¡¯re connected,¡± Nolan announced before I could finish. ¡°Connected how?¡± I sat in the chair nearest to me and picked up a dinner roll from the basket on the table. Eating was the last thing on my mind, and I didn¡¯t go for carbs in the first place, but I needed something to keep my hands busy. Ripping apart a bun seemed like a decent place to start. ¡°I talked to the parents of the missing kids, and some of the families of the other victims. I told ¡¯em we were doing a private investigation, and I mentioned Keats¡¯s name. Turns out that¡¯s all you need for some people to know you¡¯re workin¡¯ the paranormal side of things. I got the idea from that missing-persons case I¡¯ve been workin¡¯. I know you thought it might be connected, so I followed it as a lead.¡± ¡°Nolan, what are you talking about?¡± ¡°All the victims¡¯re shifters.¡± ¡°What? No, that¡¯s impossible. If any weres had gone missing, Lucas or Desmond would have known.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say they¡¯re wolves. It¡¯s a mixed bag of big cats, foxes and a few others, but none of ¡¯em were wolves.¡± My breath caught in my throat, but I managed to choke out, ¡°Until now.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Someone took Desmond¡¯s sister.¡± ¡°Fuck me sideways.¡± Yeah, that about summed it up. ¡°I gotta go.¡± ¡°Secret, wait.¡± My thumb hovered over the end button, but I pulled the phone back to my ear. Nolan¡¯s breathing was raspy on the other end of the line, like he was working hard at something. The muted sound of a keyboard filled the silence. ¡°Give me a sec.¡± A pile of bread debris now littered the otherwise clean oak table in front of me. I set one elbow on the polished surface and cupped my chin in my open palm. Somewhere a clock was ticking. Dull pain had started to etch a path up the back of my neck, its long fingers threatening to take hold of my brain and give it a migraine-inducing squeeze. The swinging kitchen door nudged open and Desmond slipped in. Given the uncanny hearing werewolves had, I suspected he must have heard me mention his name and had come to see what was happening. I gave him a tight smile, but I knew it didn¡¯t fool him. Since he couldn¡¯t offer immediate assistance to me, he moved to the stove and removed the potatoes from the element. Judging by the smell, they¡¯d been reduced to a starchy mush. He shut off the oven before the turkey had a chance to burn, then came to sit across from me. ¡°Tell me you have something other than the shifter connection. Something that might actually help me.¡± I didn¡¯t mean to sound ungrateful, because under normal circumstances I¡¯d be impressed with what Nolan had dug up. But this wasn¡¯t a time to applaud him for a job well done. I could do that later, once we had Penny back. Nolan coughed and I heard rustling noises and more typing. ¡°Nolan?¡± Desmond had piled the bread bits together and made a little circle of them on the table, pushing them around while he listened to me talk. With his clean-shaven face and his hair slicked back he looked much younger than his twenty-seven years. But the wan, fretful expression made him look older by a decade. I reached out and grasped his idle hand, giving it a squeeze. It wouldn¡¯t make him feel better, but it was all I had to offer. A Christmas plaque rested above the kitchen sink, propped against the window. It said ¡¯Tis the season for family. I squeezed Desmond¡¯s hand harder, like I never planned to let it go. ¡°Here it is,¡± Nolan said at last, and based on Desmond¡¯s sharp inhale, he¡¯d picked up on that part of the conversation as well. ¡°What is it?¡± I found myself edging off the chair, prepared to stand, or run, or do anything at a moment¡¯s notice. I needed to feel useful instead of scared and impotent. ¡°Well, one of the kids was being raised by his old grandma. And she said something about how this wasn¡¯t the first time. She remembered it happenin¡¯ before.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°She was sure.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember hearing anything about a bunch of dismembered bodies. I think if this had happened before we¡¯d have known. Or at least the police would have.¡± ¡°Only if they found the bodies,¡± Desmond suggested. Page 14 A chill slithered down my back like a drip of ice-cold water. ¡°Let¡¯s skip the exposition.¡± Then, scolding myself for how rude I was being, I added, ¡°Just until we have Penny safe. Then I want to know it all.¡± This appeased Nolan, because he continued, skipping over the backstory from were-Grandma. ¡°It¡¯s a type of lesser fae that feeds on fear, in the literal sense. Older records say it goes after the amygdala¡±¡ªhe had to work to emphasize the a¡ª¡°ya know, the emotional core of the brain. Seems like the fae originated in England in the sixteenth century, or that¡¯s when the first written record of it shows up. It could be way older, or have had a different¡ª¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°Oh, right. Sorry.¡± ¡°What kind of fae is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a tidal fae, salt water. It moves with the phases of the moon, coming up when the moon is full, then going back to the water once it¡¯s fully fed, usually by the time the next full moon is out. It has a pretty long hibernation period. If the gaps between stories¡¯re a good indication, once this thing is back in the water it¡¯s not coming back for ¡¯nother forty years.¡± A knot in my throat threatened to choke me. The full moon was only days away. If this thing planned to complete its business and go to ground before then, we were running out of time. ¡°Any idea where we can find it?¡± ¡°¡¯Parently it can make short spatial jumps. That¡¯s how it gets in and out of houses.¡± And inside police stations. ¡°But it¡¯s pretty consistent as far as locations. Somewhere within a few miles of water, where there are dark, cool places for it to hide.¡± ¡°So, pretty much the entire city of New York and all the surrounding areas.¡± Cripes, everything from Brooklyn to the Bronx fit the bill. If this bastard was hiding in the subway system, I would kill it on principle alone. ¡°Sorry, Secret. I wish I could give you more.¡± ¡°I know. Thanks.¡± I hung up and looked to Desmond, but his chair sat empty. I hadn¡¯t felt him leave. Instead of following him, I opened my phone and made another call. I had an idea, and if I was right I would save a little girl¡¯s life. If I was wrong, the Alvarez family would never be the same. Chapter Thirteen I met Holden at the corner of Queen¡¯s Boulevard and 40th where he found a parking spot for his BMW a block away from the Paradiso. Across the street a Queen¡¯s bound 7 train had just unloaded and a bustle of commuters exited the covered stairwell of the station. He handed me the item I had requested. I took the katana and held it in the crook of my arm. As he locked the car he said, ¡°I never thought when you gave me that key I¡¯d be using it to be your errand boy, fetching your weapons.¡± ¡°And I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d use it to break in at all hours and harass me while I slept, so let¡¯s call it even.¡± ¡°It¡¯s only harassment if you don¡¯t like it.¡± My mouth formed a hard line, and if looks could kill, Holden Chancery would be an obliterated pile of steaming vampiric ash. Since I had not yet learned to kill telekinetically, he remained in one solid piece with a smirk on his face that would have melted me under better conditions. When it became apparent I didn¡¯t find his flirting amusing, he asked, ¡°Where are your werewolves?¡± ¡°Dominick followed Desmond. I don¡¯t know where they went.¡± ¡°And you think you can do a better job of finding their sister than they can?¡± ¡°No. I think we can do a better job.¡± He sat on the hood of his car and crossed his arms. As usual he looked impeccable, wearing a camel-colored trench over black trousers and a mint-green dress shirt. His hair was brushed back so nothing interrupted my view of his dark-chocolate-hued eyes. Goddamn, the man was beautiful. ¡°You need me.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question, they way he emphasized the need. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I considered telling him he could take his help and shove it, that I could find Penny myself. The problem was I did need Holden, as much as it pained me to admit it to him, and I wasn¡¯t willing to put pride ahead of the task at hand. ¡°Yes, I need you.¡± He investigated his nails as if there was something deeply interesting buried under them. There wasn¡¯t. Holden got a manicure more often than most socialites. Was the son of a bitch waiting for me to beg? ¡°Holden, will you please help me?¡± What I was thinking was more along the lines of Holden, if you don¡¯t agree to help me, there will be blood all over this sword before I even start hunting for fae. ¡°On one condition.¡± ¡°Condition? No. Fuck you. No conditions.¡± I turned on my heel and walked down the block. I wasn¡¯t ten feet away when the loud clearing of his throat made me pivot back to him. Anger bubbled though my veins and my gums ached, threatening to expose my fangs. I was so livid I wanted to bite him, which meant I was angrier than I¡¯d been in a very long time. ¡°Secret.¡± He frowned and shook his head. My rage must have been palpable. I growled. ¡°There is a girl¡¯s life at stake here. Even you have to appreciate that.¡± ¡°Someone¡¯s life is always at stake. That¡¯s the world we live in. Sometimes you save lives, sometimes you take them, and sometimes you do nothing. Not everyone gets to live.¡± ¡°How can you be so cold?¡± ¡°I¡¯m dead. Whether the living continue to live doesn¡¯t impact me. I only came because you said you needed me to.¡± ¡°Then help me.¡± There was no humor left in his expression. He now looked as serious as I felt. ¡°On one condition,¡± he repeated. Red-hot rage boiled over me, and my skin prickled with the electric sensation of it. ¡°I saved your life. You owe me everything. I am your Tribunal leader.¡± The last words came out in a snarl. Around us the wind picked up and debris skittered down the sidewalk, scraping over the concrete with an eerie chittering sound. Holden¡¯s frown deepened, but he dug his hands into his pockets and looked resolved to not move from the spot. I could claim that I¡¯d call down the retribution of the Tribunal on him and hold him treasonous for not helping me on my command, but we both knew I wouldn¡¯t. What I was doing had nothing to do with the council. After a silence stretched between us for miles, I set my katana down and leaned against it. With the blade sheathed I wasn¡¯t worried about dulling the edges, but I might scuff the ebony case. So be it, the sword had been through worse. I sighed. ¡°Name your condition.¡± ¡°I want you to acknowledge there¡¯s something going on here.¡± He motioned between us. ¡°Holden¡­¡± Suddenly my feet were the most interesting thing on the cold sidewalk. ¡°No, listen to me.¡± The sharp edge to his tone caused me to look up, and I found his penetrating gaze locked on me with such longing it made an icy pit swell inside my throat. I nodded and licked my lips, but they still felt dry. He continued, ¡°I will help you, because I would follow you to hell and back. But when this is over I need your word that you will stop ignoring this.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want.¡± ¡°I want you.¡± My hand clenched on the sword and the pit dropped from my throat to my stomach. ¡°I can¡¯t promise you that.¡± ¡°Just tell me you¡¯ll give it a night. Not now, not even soon. I want one night to see what this is, without all the rest of the bullshit. No fights, no council, no werewolves.¡± Without having sensed him move, he now stood in front of me with his hands hovering a hairsbreadth from touching my arms. A shudder wracked my body, because I wanted him to close the small gap between us but I fought against my better judgment to let him. The memory of what had happened between us in a dream mingled with the visceral knowledge of what his real-world kisses did to my senses. I took a step backwards out of his reach and picked up my weapon. ¡°I can¡¯t promise you when,¡± I confessed. ¡°Say yes.¡± ¡°One night?¡± He nodded. I looked out into the street as cars whisked by, kicking up debris that caught in the breeze. An old newspaper tumbled down the sidewalk where it battered against my anchored feet. ¡°Okay.¡± Holden didn¡¯t question my acceptance, but I did. Instead, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and offered me a small, apologetic smile. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± ¡°Find me old blood. Lots of it.¡± Sure, I was part vampire. And of course my sense of smell was better than a human¡¯s and as good as the average supernatural. I could track a rabbit from a mile away thanks to my werewolf DNA, and I could smell fresh blood from the smallest cut. But old blood was tricky. Old blood lost most of its potency after a week as the coppery promise of sweet plasma faded. Older vampires could still smell it, though. Desmond and Dominick would try to find Penny using her unique scent, which would lead them all over Sunnyside since it was her territory. They¡¯d follow her smell to the places she most commonly ventured and would waste a lot of time eliminating obvious locations. Instead of looking for the girl, I was going to look for her abductor. I hoped I hadn¡¯t totally misinterpreted the wordless clue given to me by the ghost of Ashley Parsons. She¡¯d only pointed, but I wanted to believe that meant the killer was hiding in the Queen¡¯s part of Long Island. If I was right, he wouldn¡¯t have taken Penny far. I would use Holden like a bloodhound and track the fae directly to his lair. I had faith in the plan working. Whether I¡¯d get there in time was less certain. We hadn¡¯t found any bodies of the missing youths yet, and I had to believe we might still find them alive. I¡¯d left my bag in Holden¡¯s car, along with Brigit¡¯s sweater. If we were going up against a tidal fae that lived somewhere dank and nasty, I didn¡¯t want to explain to my prot¨¦g¨¦e why her pretty white sweater was destroyed. I had tied my new blade to my thigh and liked the feel of the extra weight and the protection it signified. Page 15 In my black leather corset and pants, carrying a sheathed sword, I looked like a dominatrix trailing behind Holden in his business-casual attire. This late on Christmas Eve, the stores and eateries of Sunnyside had long since closed for the evening. The community was predominantly Catholic, judging by the rosaries dangling in car windows and the crucifixes displayed through open windows. Most of the neighborhood would be attending a Christmas Eve mass at one of the multitude of churches nearby. I didn¡¯t put much stock in there being a heaven, but maybe there was someone up there, because it was a Godsend that we made it through the bulk of the city without anyone seeing us. I kept a step or two behind the vampire, not wanting to interrupt his focus. We¡¯d gone a few aimless blocks from Queen¡¯s Boulevard with nothing of note, but then he¡¯d caught whiff of something dark and we¡¯d been following it ever since. ¡°We¡¯re getting closer,¡± he said to ease my unvoiced concerns. ¡°Are you sure?¡± He paused and looked at me over his shoulder in a way that said, Seriously? I decided it was better to not question his judgment again and instead followed his nose like Toucan Sam on the prowl for Froot Loops. We crossed the freeway, and I couldn¡¯t help but steal a glance at the New York skyline lit up against the mottled black of the sky. Clouds were moving in, but the fat moon was still visible like a bright white eye watching us and lighting the way. In front of a fire station Holden came to an abrupt halt. He didn¡¯t sniff the air like a werewolf, but he closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. His countenance was tight with focus, his brows knit together, and a frown deepened the lines beside his mouth. I bit my tongue to repress the urge to ask what he smelled. ¡°In there.¡± He pointed across the street to where a concrete-slab wall rose into a high iron fence. I inhaled sharply. Nolan hadn¡¯t been kidding when he said the fae would pick somewhere dark. A sense of foreboding cloaked me in a nervous chill. Behind the fence sat an old red-brick Victorian house with a turret and brown-shingled roof. It wasn¡¯t the house that made me nervous, although old Victorians did give me the willies after I almost died in one, even if it was only a set on an amusement park lot. It was what the house guarded that made me tense up. Beyond the gates and the house, the heads of stone angels and the points of carved obelisks rose up in dark relief towards the purple glow of the sky. Where the moonlight caught the aged cherubs, their faces were stained with tears from decades of rain, and their features were smoothed down until they no longer looked innocent or protective. The angels all looked on to the expansive graveyard below with blank expressions. Their eyes could not see but could still cry. He crossed the street, and I hesitated but followed after a beat. The main gate was locked, barring those who might attempt a little late-night hooliganism. It couldn¡¯t bar Holden and me from entering, however. He pulled himself up as though he were weightless, then balanced with his feet between the spikes and offered a hand down to me, helping me up to stand next to him. For a moment we stood next to each other on the thin iron band stretching across the fence, steadied like tightrope walkers. His hand lingered on mine longer than need be to keep me from falling. I held my sword and didn¡¯t try to disengage him. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I whispered, then jumped off the fence and landed in the brittle brown grass below. A second later the leaves beside me crunched softly to announce his arrival. We rose together, and I got a good look at the graveyard for the first time. Without the fence to obscure our line of sight, the tombstones spanned for what seemed like miles. Across the darkness I saw a sign planted in front of the old red-brick house that read Calvary Cemetery. Well beyond the fields of grave markers, the expressway buzzed with traffic and the sky glowed yellow from the light reflected off the clouds. I exhaled a hazy breath, but Holden made no such sign on the night. In spite of the distant noises and the muffled sound of Christmas celebrations from houses nearby, the graveyard was dead calm. The tombstones in front of us were as worn down as the angel faces overhead, and most bore decidedly Irish surnames. A chill crept under my skin and knocked at my bones, trying to find purchase in the core parts of my being. Something was wrong here and I didn¡¯t know if it was just the fae. I put my hand on Holden¡¯s shoulder and he jerked. So I wasn¡¯t the only one who felt uneasy here, good to know. ¡°Can you still smell it?¡± He nodded tersely. ¡°Even more now.¡± Judging by the flare of his nostrils and the tight, pained expression he wore, something was rotten in the state of Denmark. I didn¡¯t ask because I wasn¡¯t ready to know the response, and Grandmere always told me not to ask questions if I didn¡¯t want the answer. It was the same logic that made me never ponder out loud whether or not my ass looked big in jeans. Holden pointed down one of the footpaths that led into the heart of the cemetery. We traversed the uneven ground at a good pace, and I did my best to avoid any broken stone outcroppings or bits of crumbled angel wings that might trip me up. The sheer number of angels meant to watch over the dead gave me the willies. They all looked sad and more than a little foreboding with their wide arched wings and tear-stained cheeks. In spite of the mission at hand I kept looking up and shuddering at their hooded eyes and forlorn mouths. Our pace picked up until Holden was moving at a jog, and when I looked back over my shoulder I couldn¡¯t see the entrance gate or the house anymore. The New York skyline, however, was visible between the tombstones and stained-glass mausoleums. God this place was creepy. When Holden skidded to a stop outside one of the crypts, I almost slammed into him. I steadied myself by pressing one hand against his back, then sliding my fingers upwards so I could squeeze his shoulder. I think I meant to comfort him with the gesture, but it was more for me than for him. I needed to feel connected to something alive, or I would risk being sucked into the darkness. Holden might not be alive, but he was my best available option right then. Better a vampire than whatever lurked in the shadows behind us. ¡°It¡¯s here.¡± I didn¡¯t need him to tell me, not anymore. Mingled with the smell of old blood he¡¯d been chasing was a heady dose of the fresh stuff, and I had no problem smelling fresh blood from this close. The building we stood in front of was about ten feet tall and made of aged limestone. It had been designed to look Roman, with two columns leading to a classic peaked roof, with carvings of angry lions and gladiators in the edifice. There were two small windows made from yellow-and-green-stained glass, but what they were meant to depict¡ªif anything¡ªwas impossible to tell. What set these windows apart from similar ones we¡¯d passed was that they were lit from within. The luminescence was so slight it could have been overlooked if we weren¡¯t standing right outside, but from our position I could discern a faint, flickering firelight making the green glass look like sun-dappled tree leaves. Then something inside made a hard scraping sound and I heard a meek whimper. Not waiting for Holden to act, I pushed him aside and kicked in the door. The entrance hadn¡¯t been designed to protect against forced entry, and the lock gave way with no protest. There was a small lantern on the floor, which was the source of the light. With Holden and I in the cramped chamber, the light cast a series of jittery shadows against the walls and threw our silhouettes into the dim graveyard, where they danced and shivered in the spaces between tombs. We were otherwise alone. I sniffed the air again, and the smell of blood was unmistakable. We were in the right place, but there was no fae in sight and no sign of the teens. My nerves felt so jangled and raw I worried I might shake apart then and there. How could we be so close and still not find them? I could smell Penny here, the unmistakable mixture of Love¡¯s Baby Soft perfume and the sweetness of watermelon Lip Smackers. The scent was so innocent it threatened to squeeze all the air out of my lungs. That it was mingled with fresh blood made me want to throw up. ¡°Penny,¡± I wheezed. Holden pressed a finger to my lips to silence me, but he was gentle and his eyes pleaded for me to not fight him. Personally I didn¡¯t think being quiet mattered. I was certain we¡¯d announced our arrival clearly enough when I¡¯d kicked in the front door. He cocked his head to the side, then dropped to his hands and knees and put his ear to the dirty floor. Oh. He¡¯d been trying to listen. He beckoned for me to join him, and I collapsed to the floor next to him, our faces mere inches from the huge rectangular slab that must have been someone¡¯s ostentatious final resting place. It also placed me so close to Holden our noses brushed when I lowered my head to listen. Another time, another place, he would have made a comment, but he was totally focused on what he heard below us. At first I heard nothing. Then I heard a muffled thump and a scrabbling noise, followed by a short cry cut off halfway. They were underneath us, and the sounds let me dare to hope someone was still alive down there. I heaved myself up from the floor and used all my strength to push against the concrete box. I would worry later about what it meant to desecrate someone¡¯s burial site. For now I wanted to be sure no other lives ended here. Holden got up and helped me push, and with our combined strength, the tomb slid aside, revealing a gaping hole in the floor. I¡¯d been so preoccupied with getting our obstacle out of the way I hadn¡¯t been prepared for it to move so easily. I stumbled and almost fell into the hole when Holden grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back. In my panic I dropped my sword, and it clattered into the dark pit. ¡°Shit.¡± Below there was a hiss and a garbled rant that didn¡¯t sound like any human language I¡¯d ever heard. Bracing my hand on Holden¡¯s forearm, I looked back at him and said, ¡°I need to go down there.¡± ¡°If you think I¡¯m letting you go down there alo¡ª¡± I didn¡¯t need to hear the rest of his protest to know he¡¯d follow me, so I squirmed out of his arms and jumped into the hole. In some respects it was a blessing in disguise that the sword fell first. Having heard it fall, I could get a rough idea of how long the drop was so I knew it wasn¡¯t going to kill me to jump. Page 16 To be perfectly honest, though, I would have jumped anyway. I have a bad habit of leaping before I look. As luck would have it, I landed next to my lost weapon. With my eyes still adjusting to the pitch-black space, I dove for the sword, but something kicked it out of the way. ¡°Ewww rune its,¡± the thing hissed. I froze in place. The voice speaking to me was so cold, so inhuman, it made me marvel at how most fae managed to pass themselves off as people in this world. No one in their right mind could do anything but piss their pants when hearing a voice like that. I was not entirely of my right mind so my pants stayed dry, but the rest of me broke out in a cold sweat. ¡°Ewww cants beee here.¡± It took me a moment to realize it was trying to speak English. ¡°Secret,¡± Holden called from above. ¡°Sort of busy here.¡± My gaze darted to the left, searching the ground for where the thing might have kicked my sword. Though I could see in the dark, it wasn¡¯t quite the same as seeing with the lights on. I could tell there was a creature standing about five feet away from me with its arms limp at its side, but I couldn¡¯t make out any distinctive features. The darkness was too complete for that. Like night-vision goggles, my eyes needed at least a tiny bit of light in order to show me the full picture. ¡°Heads up!¡± I sidestepped in time, avoiding Holden¡¯s landing. He¡¯d had the presence of mind to grab the lantern, and when he straightened up, the room was filled with a dim yellow light. We stood side by side, so close our arms brushed, and took a good look at the monster I¡¯d been hunting all over Manhattan. Beady black eyes blinked at us, as if the minimal amount of light cast by the lantern was too much for it to bear. ¡°Ayyy eww deww thaaaa.¡± Holden held the light higher and thrust the lantern towards the creature. It was hard to refer to it as a creature once I could see it properly. It looked more like an accountant. The thing stood about two inches taller than me, on the shorter side for a man, and had a rounded potbelly and cue-ball head. Its skin had the pallor of a desk jockey whose only tanning option was low-watt office fluorescent bulbs. ¡°This is our monster?¡± Holden asked. ¡°Owwwwt,¡± it demanded. It had fleshy lips that flapped awkwardly as it tried to speak, giving our tubby accountant the appearance of being a drunk tubby accountant rather than just a boring one. ¡°Git owwwt.¡± Get out. That much I understood, though more from the rage in those charcoal eyes than any of the pseudo-words it was speaking. ¡°Not without them,¡± I replied, jutting my chin towards the hole in the wall. With the extra light I could see my sword against the wall, but there would be no way to get to it without passing the fae. Behind him I could see a hole with bars and a lock. A pair of hands was wrapped around the bars and a boy¡¯s face was trying to wedge through the space to get a look. It obviously wasn¡¯t Penny, but I recognized the cinnamon skin tone and big brown eyes from one of the school pictures. We weren¡¯t too late. ¡°Not fur ewww.¡± The slurring, smacking sound of its big lips moving in an awkward, unnatural way made it hard to understand the words, but I could make out the gist of it. ¡°They¡¯re not yours, either.¡± ¡°Mine,¡± it said, and shuffled towards the door. The pale, dirty face darted back, and I could hear mewling cries from inside the hole. What had this thing put these kids through? Had they watched it eat the others and tear them apart? I hoped they¡¯d been spared that nightmare. It continued to move farther from us and closer to the teens. I grabbed the knife lashed to my thigh and hoped Desmond had the good sense to buy one suitable for killing, because I wasn¡¯t going to get a second shot at this. I held the knife by the blade with a firm pressure, thanking my werewolf boyfriend for not getting a silver one, then I threw it at the monster. Being unfamiliar with the weight of the blade I hit lower than I¡¯d aimed for. Instead of clipping the thing in the eye and penetrating to its brain, the knife sunk hilt-deep into its throat. After that, nothing happened the way I anticipated. It didn¡¯t raise its hands to grasp at the knife. In fact, it seemed to take the thing almost a full minute to realize I¡¯d struck it. A minute is an excruciating amount of time when you¡¯re waiting for something to die. Holden and I stood perfectly still, watching it sway and waiting for it to do something about the weapon in its neck. Finally it cast its beady eyes downward and noticed my knife. ¡°Uhhheww guh.¡± The lips still moved like it was trying to form words, but with the fresh hole in its larynx the effect was just garbled sucking noises. I couldn¡¯t understand what it was trying to say anymore, but when it started to flop its arms around I was sure I¡¯d managed to piss it off. The fae had to use its whole torso to get its arms to flail in the right direction, and that was when I understood it didn¡¯t have any particular control over its limbs. In fact, it didn¡¯t seem like the accountant body was working too well for the fae, which made me wonder if it was a glitch in the thing¡¯s magic, or if the body wasn¡¯t right somehow. Or maybe in forty years under the sludge of the river it had forgotten how to move like a person. I edged forward and grabbed for my knife before its puppetlike hands could latch on. I¡¯d barely gotten the handle between my fingers when one of its hands grasped me by the wrist. The hold was tenuous at best, and a good jerk backwards would free me and the knife, but I was so shocked by the coldness of its touch I was stunned into immobility. The weight of its useless arms started to drag on me, and before I knew what was happening my new Christmas gift was slicing down the front of the creature¡¯s body like a fish knife filleting a rainbow trout. I jerked back on instinct, stumbling backwards with the knife in my hand until Holden caught me, but I¡¯d begun something that couldn¡¯t be stopped. The new seam in the front of the man¡¯s body peeled apart and ripped open more, exposing the red, meaty interior of the body. The skin broke apart inch by inch down his torso all the way to his pelvis, opening like a fleshy jumpsuit. The inside of him was all wrong, though. I¡¯d killed enough things to know there should be guts and gore inside an open human body. The fae had none of that, just a man husk with no fun fruit filling. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Holden held my arm tighter and pulled us back as far as we could go in the tiny space. This room wasn¡¯t meant for three adult bodies, even if one was peeling apart in front of our eyes. That Holden had sworn at all was enough to tell me he¡¯d never seen anything like this before. ¡°Guess the old Irish moms in Dorchester never included this part in their story.¡± I tried to laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched, frightful sound. Something inside the husk was having no such difficulty laughing at us. A tinny, breathless cackle emerged from the sloppy shell of the portly accountant, and it was all I needed to hear to know the fae had been acting as a puppet master, controlling the empty skin-suit. It took the cake as far as creepy, fucked-up monsters went. And that was saying something considering I¡¯d once been choked by the decaying hands of a vampire ghost. Again I measured our proximity to the sword, but as I debated making my move, the fae decided to make his. The husk of the body fell to the floor in a boneless heap, and we were left staring at a three-foot-tall tidal fae in its true form. It was a brownish-green like muddy moss and stood on two legs that looked too goat-like to be good for swimming, but the feet were webbed, as were its hands. The fae grinned at us with crocodile teeth in a wide mouth that crossed its whole face. It had two small slits for nostrils and its eyes were amphibious with dark vertical slits set against a topaz iris. It blinked and its eyelids fluttered side to side instead of up and down. ¡°Eesss tiiiime.¡± The black tongue that flicked between its pointed teeth was forked like a snake¡¯s. No wonder it had so much trouble forming human words. On my back, Holden¡¯s hand twitched. I squeezed the knife handle until I worried it might crack. When the fae stepped away from the heap of skin it had once inhabited and moved towards us, its webbed feet slapped on the floor. With each step I shuddered. Every fiber of my being begged me to run away, but there was nowhere to go and I wasn¡¯t about to back down from an enemy whose head didn¡¯t even come as high as my cleavage. Instead of retreating, I stepped to the left, edging closer to my sword and making sure the creature¡¯s attention stayed on me. I wanted to look back to Holden to see if he understood what I was doing, but I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off my quarry. The fae blinked, its eyelids clicking with each pass. It snapped its teeth at me and hissed. ¡°Ewww noooo moooove.¡± ¡°Try and stop me, gremlin.¡± In such close quarters I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised at how easily the thing could reach me, but when it slapped my hand with one of its rubbery, webbed mitts, I was so startled I lost my grip on the knife. It danced across the floor and came to a rest next to my sword. Without a weapon in hand, and needing to ensure it didn¡¯t notice Holden moving in the opposite direction, I leaped for the sword. If I got the knife first, I wouldn¡¯t complain. I just needed something pointy in my hands. I hit the floor a foot away from the weapons, and the fae tackled me an instant after I landed. For such a small creature it was shockingly heavy, like a sack of bricks pressing my upper body into the stone floor. Clumsy fingers were digging through my hair, and I didn¡¯t have the luxury of figuring out what it was trying to do. I needed a weapon and I needed one now. Digging my forearms into the floor, I dragged myself forward, scraping all the skin off my elbows. I got a good grip on the sheath of my katana in the same instant something sharp punctured the skin at the base of my skull. I¡¯d never felt a tongue under my scalp before, but it was impossible to mistake the slippery tingling sensation as anything else. A shudder convulsed through me and I bucked against the fae. I didn¡¯t want to jerk too much and have it pierce the bone. I might have supernatural strength, but I doubted I was immune to paralysis if the creature gained access to my spine. That said, it was after something in my head, and I didn¡¯t want to give it a chance to reach its target. Page 17 I didn¡¯t waste time unsheathing the katana. I simply swung it backwards and hoped like hell I was right about the fae¡¯s position. The wet smooshing sound of a skull fracture and the tongue retracting from my head told me my aim was true. I rolled to the right, and the limp weight of the fae fell off me in the opposite direction. Holden had broken the lock free on the door where I¡¯d seen the boy¡¯s face earlier, and was hunched in the opening. There were whimpers, but his tone was soothing. I¡¯d never prayed for Holden to enthrall anyone, but I hoped to God he could help these kids forget what they¡¯d gone through down here. ¡°Ewww beeshhh.¡± The monster was slurring worse than before, and when I turned back to look at it, the damage I¡¯d done was evident. Thick black blood seeped down its face and coated its teeth with a dark veneer. All that mess and it still managed to call me a bitch. I unsheathed my katana and dropped the shiny black casing to the ground, then got a toe under my knife and kicked it up so I had a weapon in each hand. The creature snarled at me, spattering its dark blood across my neck and chest. Charming. From the corner of my eye I saw Holden emerge from the hidey-hole with his arms around the two younger teens, while two others tucked themselves behind him. There were only three teens reported missing, according to Mercedes, and I realized with a happy shock that the extra captive was Nolan¡¯s missing shifter. But someone was still absent. My heart stilled and my pulse slowed to a near stop as the pressure of grief swelled through me. Then Penny came out of the hole in the wall, hesitant to emerge the whole way until she saw Holden with the other teenagers and darted out to stand behind him. She¡¯d been crying and her dark hair was a mess, but she appeared unharmed. The kids got one look at the fae and the younger ones began to cry. I couldn¡¯t blame them. He¡¯d been scary enough when wearing his human suit, now he was a walking nightmare. ¡°Take care of them,¡± I pleaded to Holden. ¡°Miiiine,¡± the fae screamed, hurling itself at them with a shocking fervor. Holden spun around to block the kidnapped youths, leaving his back exposed. I dropped the knife and grabbed the fae by the neck, yanking it out of a midair strike the vampire couldn¡¯t have defended against with his arms around the teens. If I hadn¡¯t pulled the fae down, Holden would have let the thing jump on his back rather than let go of the kids. He could talk all he wanted about not caring if teens lived or died and the cycle-of-life bullshit he¡¯d given me earlier, but I knew his true nature the moment he turned the captives away from the fae and left himself defenseless. I threw the creature into the floor and heard teeth breaking against stone. It was still muttering curses, but it wasn¡¯t saying anything I understood. The tone was clear, though. ¡°Yeah, well, fuck you too.¡± With both hands wrapped around the handle of my katana, I drove the blade into the back of the monster¡¯s neck, right where it had bitten into the base of my own skull. I twisted the sword until the final pop of separating bones echoed through the chamber and the rattle of the fae¡¯s last breath crossed its lips. Jerking the blade free, I looked back to Holden and the five freed captives huddled behind him. With a fine spray of black blood on my skin and hair and a blood-slicked sword in my hand, I couldn¡¯t have looked like the hero they¡¯d been expecting. Five sets of wide eyes were locked on me, showing shock but also gratitude. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± I promised. Penny skirted around Holden and walked up to me, crouching at my feet to retrieve my fallen knife. She stood and fixed me with a steely gaze, the blade looking frightening and comfortable in her hand before she handed it back to me. ¡°Can we go home?¡± she asked. I slid the knife back into its place on my thigh and collected the sheath for my sword, then hugged the girl to my side. I was afraid if I looked away for a second she¡¯d cease to exist. ¡°Yeah, kiddo. Let¡¯s get the hell out of here.¡± Chapter Fourteen The highlight of my Christmas night was discovering how to make the lights on the tree blink on and off. I¡¯d made a nest of blankets on the couch and had a tower of classic holiday DVDs stacked next to the television. If the ornaments and tree weren¡¯t here, it would be a traditional Christmas at Chez McQueen. In an attempt to let the Alvarez family mend after their horrific Christmas Eve, I¡¯d opted out of participating in their Christmas Day festivities so they could be together without any intrusions. When I¡¯d brought Penny back the previous night, I thought Grace Alvarez might hug me to death. The group love-fest I¡¯d been in the middle of led me to believe I¡¯d still be welcome there even if I didn¡¯t come by to unwrap gifts. But it might have been hard for Desmond to explain to his mother why I couldn¡¯t show up until sundown. Before we¡¯d gotten to the Alvarez house, Holden had helped the kidnapped teens forget the worst of their trauma while I¡¯d called Mercedes. When the police met us on the front steps of Desmond¡¯s childhood home, I could tell Tyler was itching for an excuse to blame the whole thing on me, but I¡¯d cleaned up by that point and put my nice white sweater back on. Without a sword in hand, I looked downright innocent. We explained how Penny had gone missing, which was easy to confirm with the local police, and I told him we followed a hunch. Then we lied our faces off about where we¡¯d found the missing youths and claimed to have no idea who took them. We¡¯d burned the fae¡¯s body and replaced the grave covering his hole. The nightmare was over, but for the cops the mystery was unsolved. The case was no longer my problem, but I¡¯d let Nolan fill me in on a few more details over the phone earlier in the evening. We¡¯d been curious about why the fae targeted shifters, and Nolan had made some headway with an answer. Turns out shifters have hypersensitive amygdalas. The trait was especially acute during puberty as it allowed them to better adjust to the heightened stress and emotions of becoming active shapeshifters. It made sense that those predisposed to the change would have built-in coping mechanisms to make it easier on them. Who knew a monster would want to take advantage of something so unique? It sort of made sense, in a twisted way, why the fae was keeping the youngest of the teens alive. It was making them into its version of dessert, by keeping those with the most active fear centers captive and letting them build their fear into a frenzy. That same logic explained why it was willing to risk capture by displaying the body parts so publicly. Fear spread like wildfire in a city like New York, and terror was this thing¡¯s bread and butter. To create panic on a city-wide level meant all of Manhattan became a buffet fit for a fae. The plan was demented but clever. With the worst of the crisis behind me and Nolan properly lauded for all his hard work, my night would consist of It¡¯s a Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street. Anything black and white with a clear-cut happy ending. I found some powdered instant hot chocolate in the cupboard and couldn¡¯t resist making some to accompany my solo movie night. As I mixed up the cocoa into the boiled milk I realized how little I knew about hot beverages that weren¡¯t coffee. Clumps of chocolaty dust refused to be broken down, and I was too enchanted by the tiny fake marshmallows to fight too hard with mixing the drink. I sipped the concoction, and it tasted like liquid sugar. Not being a hot-chocolate connoisseur, I assumed that was appropriate and took the steaming mug out of the kitchen and into the living room where the flickering tree lights made it look like a disco. When I sat on the loveseat, I screamed and sloshed hot chocolate all over myself. My redheaded spirit guide sat beside me, glowing like a lightning bug, and I swear to God she was smiling. I hadn¡¯t seen the ghost of Ashley Parsons since the night she pointed towards Long Island and in her wordless way had told me to go east, young assassin. I set the coffee mug on the floor and returned to the kitchen to get a wet dishtowel to wipe the hot, sticky liquid off my arms. She was still waiting on the loveseat when I came back. ¡°So, which are you?¡± The girl cocked her head to the side and looked confused, but as before she said nothing. ¡°Ghost of Christmas past, present or future,¡± I clarified. There was no mistaking the upward turn of her mouth this time. In the blinking lights of the Christmas tree her tiara looked extra glittery. She rose and floated up to me, reaching out her hand with the opaque palm facing up. I didn¡¯t think I could touch her, but I tried to take hold of the offered hand. My fingers slid right through the space, but the air where I¡¯d tried to touch her was colder than the temperature around us. The ghost frowned and dropped her arm to her side, then drifted by me and gave a look back before she passed through my front door. I hesitated but ultimately curiosity ruled over any qualms I might have. As long as she didn¡¯t want me to climb any fire escapes I was willing to see what she wanted. After pulling on a pair of slipper-boots, I ran out into the hall and followed the girl into the street. She was waiting at the top of my steps with her face angled up to the dark sky. I was so busy looking down the block it took me a second to realize why she had brought me outside. The first snowflake landed on my cheek, then more joined it, sticking to my eyelashes and melting on my lips. The big fluffy flakes were tumbling down, illuminated like dust motes in the yellow glow of the streetlights. I smiled and tilted my head back, sticking my tongue out and catching the small, cold clusters in my mouth, where they dissolved like sugar. All the anxiety, pain and frustration of the last week melted away with each flake that wet my skin. ¡°Thank¡ª¡± I began to express my gratitude to the ghost, but when I looked beside me she was gone. I held out my hand palm up, and the cool brush of the snow felt like the girl¡¯s ghostly touch. ¡°Thank you,¡± I finished and closed my eyes, turning my face back to the sky. ¡°Whatcha looking at?¡± I opened one eye and tilted my head sideways. Had I not recognized the voice I¡¯d have sprung into a defensive pose, but Brigit had a distinctive cheerfulness that was impossible to fake. She was holding a stack of parcels wrapped in metallic paper and wore a fuzzy fuchsia beret. Her smile could have lit up the street. Page 18 ¡°Just playing in the snow.¡± ¡°Wanna give us a hand?¡± ¡°Us?¡± I dropped my attention from the sky entirely and looked past her on the sidewalk. A cab door slammed closed and the driver took off. Nolan shuffled up the path, trying to see over the stack of gifts he carried. ¡°Hi,¡± he said, his voice muffled by the bulk of his burden. I grabbed the heavy boxes from him, and he was more than willing to let them go. ¡°What are you guys doing here?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Christmas,¡± Brigit answered, as though that explained everything. Then she added, ¡°No one should be alone on Christmas.¡± It was hard to say whether she meant me or herself and I didn¡¯t ask. Nolan blushed a little, and I figured he must have told her I was spending the night by myself. ¡°I was making hot chocolate.¡± ¡°Ohh.¡± Nolan opened the door for us, letting the gift-bearers in ahead of himself, then locked my apartment door behind us. ¡°Count me in.¡± Brigit dumped the gifts next to the tree and made a beeline for the television. When I returned from the kitchen with two new mugs of partially mixed hot chocolate, she¡¯d put Elf in and was curled up in the armchair, beaming at me. Nolan had taken up half the loveseat and was giving Rio the greatest gift¡ªthat of the belly rub. I handed each of them a mug, then plunked down beside Nolan and propped my feet on his lap. My own cocoa was lukewarm and tasted like candy. The gifts under the tree were forgotten as I listened to Brigit giggle at Will Ferrell¡¯s shenanigans. I wanted to say something, to thank them for being here with me, but nothing seemed quite right. So I nestled in and smiled so hard it hurt my cheeks. My family was home.