Night Seeker

Yasmine Galenorn Night Seeker

The third book in the Indigo Court series, 2012

Dedicated to

My agent, Meredith Bernstein, and my editor, Kate Seaver, for believing in me. Thank you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to my beloved Samwise. You are my joy, my love, and you hold my heart in your hands. To my agent, Meredith Bernstein, and to my editor, Kate Seaver: Your belief in me means so much. To Tony Mauro, an incredible cover artist. To my assistant, Andria Holley, and my volunteers, who help me keep track of everything. To my “Galenorn Gurlz,” those still with me, those who have come into my life, and those who crossed over the Bridge-I will always love you, even through the veil.

Most reverent devotion to Ukko, who rules over the wind and sky; Rauni, queen of the harvest; Tapio, lord of the woodlands; and Mielikki, goddess of the Woodlands and Fae Queen in her own right. All my spiritual guardians. And to the Fae-both dark and light-who walk this world beside us, may we see you in the shadows and in the shimmer of ice.

And the biggest thank you of all: To my readers. Your support helps me continue to write the books you love to read! You can find me on the Net at Galenorn En/Visions: www.galenorn.com. If you write to me snail mail (see website for address or write via publisher), please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope if you would like a reply. Promo goodies are available-see website.

The Painted Panther

Yasmine Galenorn

All war is deception.

– SUN TZU

When it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached, don’t adjust the goals, adjust the action steps.

– CONFUCIUS

The Beginning

The code of the Akazzani: To observe. To record. To embrace silence.

The role of the Akazzani: The Akazzani are the preservers of knowledge. They are the guardians of the past. The Society neither interferes with, nor directs, events. Born nine to a generation, from the hidden fortress of Mazastan, the Keepers go about their work, in secrecy and privacy. Only the researchers whom they employ walk among the nations of the world, searching for information. The oracles of Mazastan are culled from both yummanii and magic-born, and they train in both the darker magical arts and martial arts, for they have-over the centuries- been forced to protect their sanctuary from invaders. No one has ever successfully breached their defenses.

– From Secret Societies of the World

Chapter 1

The night was still. Snow drifted slowly to the ground, where it compacted into a glazed sheet covering the roads. Favonis-my 1966 sparkling blue Pontiac GTO-glided through the empty streets as I navigated the icy pavement. We had to be cautious. The Shadow Hunters were out in the suburbs tonight, searching for those who braved the cold. They were running amok, and New Forest, Washington, had become their hunting grounds.

Equally dangerous, Geoffrey and the vampires were also out in full force, patrolling the streets. Clusters of dark figures in long black dusters wandered the shopping areas, their collars turned up, hands in pockets, searching the crowds for Myst’s hunters, trying to prevent any more massacres from happening.

At least we could bargain with the vamps and have a chance of winning through reason. They weren’t like the Vampiric Fae; they weren’t out to destroy everyone they met. But still, it all boiled down to the fact that two bloodthirsty predatory groups now divided the town. And they were aching to shake it up.

As for us? We were on a reconnaissance mission.

Kaylin was riding shotgun. My father, Wrath-King of the Court of Rivers and Rushes-and Lannan Altos, the vampire I loved to hate who had become an unexpected ally, sprawled in the backseat.

We were on our way to see what was left of the Veil House, if anything. We’d been holed up for two days, planning out our next moves. Finally, tired of being cooped up, I suggested an expedition. If we could sneak back onto Vyne Street, we might be able to scavenge something useful from out of the ashes.

I dreaded seeing the pile of rubble. I expected to find a burned-out shell filled with soot and charcoal, soggy from the snow. So when Rhiannon had suggested coming, I stopped her. Better that I go rather than my cousin. She’d grown up at the Veil House. She’d lost her mother there. Asking her to go on a raiding expedition would have been cruel. Besides, the four of us were the least likely to be killed. I’d wanted to bring Grieve, my lover, but it was dangerous to have him so close to the Golden Wood at this point.

A glance over my shoulder told me that my father was doing his best to avoid touching the metal framework of the car. The iron in the car hurt him, but he swallowed the pain, saying nothing. I admired his strength and reserve, and thought that finally I had a role model-someone I could be proud of in my family. But as he lurched against the side, a nasty thought struck me.

“You don’t think I’ll develop a weakness to iron, do you? Favonis has never bothered me before.” I’d only recently discovered that I was half-Cambyra Fae-one of the Uwilahsidhe, the owl shifters-and that Wrath was my father. And the Fae did not get along with iron.

“You are worried about this?” Wrath leaned forward, still looking ill at ease. “Have you noticed a problem?”

“No. It’s just that…I wonder, as more of my Fae lineage comes to the surface, will I be more vulnerable to the things you are?”