Autumn Whispers

he had repeat clientele, and a damned fine reputation. As he rung up the service, I turned to Camille.

“I’ll take my Jeep and follow you. I’ve missed her.”

“I had that mess on the side of it detailed, girl.” Jason gave me a smile. “You’ve had that bad cover-up job on there too long.”

I gaped at him. “But that had to cost . . .”

“Shut your mouth, sugar.” He winked. “I will not let one of my friends carry around the memory of a hate crime.”

Back in February, shortly before Iris’s wedding, my car had been the victim of a hate-filled graffiti artist who had tagged it with, “Go home, Faerie Sluts!” in red paint. I’d covered it up the best I could with spray paint but it never had looked right. Now, the door matched the rest of the paint job—a turquoise blue.

I hopped over the counter, surprising Jason, and gave him a quick hug. He froze at first, then hesitantly returned the embrace.

“Damn girl, you are strong. I can feel your muscles through that jacket.” He grinned at me then.

“You’re pretty fine, yourself. Those are some big guns you have there.” Jason was built like a body builder and I had no doubt his biceps were ooo-baby worthy. “You work out a lot?”

He nodded. “I do. In fact, I teach Thai boxing. You interested in learning?”

I cocked my head to the side. I’d always wanted to take up one of the Earthside martial arts classes. “How much time is required? If I’m out on a case, or have to be in Otherworld, am I going to get kicked out for not showing up? I don’t want to commit to something that I might have to flake out on.”

He pursed his lips, smiling. “We could schedule private lessons. Then we can reschedule as needed. When you have the time, it would be best to go for two classes a week, plus keeping up with your regular workouts.”

I slid my credit card back in the holder. “Sounds good. I’ll give you a call later tonight or tomorrow to talk some more. Thanks, Jason. Tim has himself a good man.”

“I know, love. I know.” And then he shooed us out. “I have work to do. And I know you do, too. Off with you now.”

As we left the shop, I glanced back. “I hope to hell he and Tim weather knowing us. I’d hate it if—”

“Don’t say a word. Don’t even think it. They will be all right because we need them to be okay. I can’t handle seeing another friend hurt. Not now. Especially not with Father missing.”

As I climbed in my Jeep and started her up, enjoying the purr of her motor, the rain turned to hail, the pea- sized ice balls bouncing off the hood and windshield, covering the pavement. I followed Camille out onto the road, the silver of the sky glimmered like light shifting onto layers of crinkled foil.

We headed to the park to meet Ivana, and all the way there, I couldn’t stop thinking about Father. Had he managed to get out? Was he searching for us? And if he had, surely he would have contacted us by now—or contacted Trenyth.

Was he trapped, unable to escape? Would he die, starving to death, while rescue workers frantically tried to dig out those who lived through the carnage? Or was he already dead and buried, at the bottom of a heap of rubble?

I tried to keep my focus on the road, to shove the thoughts out of my mind. Worrying wouldn’t speed up finding him. Worrying wouldn’t do anything but interfere with what we were supposed to be focusing on.

Our father was a guardsman most of his life. He had been fully prepared to give his life in the line of his work. When he’d become Ambassador, even for the short time it had lasted, he had been prepared to give his life in service to Queen Tanaquar. And now, as head of the OIA, Otherworld Division, there was the chance he’d be killed. He’d known the risks, and he’d taken them.

Just like we knew the risks when we joined up.

Just like we knew the risks when we chose to fight the war against Shadow Wing. We could have gone home to Otherworld. We could have let Smoky take us all away to the Dragon Reaches where we would be safe. But we were bound to our honor, to our duty. And we took our responsibilities seriously. No, we all knew how precarious life was, and we never took it for granted.

At the same time, we were ready to lay down our lives in this battle. All of us—my sisters, our lovers; even Iris and Hanna. We knew what we were facing, and we still pressed on. We’d lost friends along the way and every time it hurt like hell, but what else could we do?

And so, if Father was dead, we’d weep and we’d mourn, but we would accept it as part of who he was, and what he did, and what he stood for. And we would carry on, through the dark nights of war, as we walked through the fires the demons were pushing before them.

Chapter 15

Ivana Krask was waiting in the park. Camille and I darted through the rain to where she was sitting. The Maiden of Karask was dressed like a bag lady. Her face was a gnarled map, covered in burls and knobs. She had a pointed chin, reminding me of a bird, and her eyes were beady, sharp, and piercing. But we now knew just how illusionary her appearance was. Underneath that shabby persona was a brilliantly powerful Elder Fae who could shatter our hearing with her voice, who could rise up like a beautiful and terrible monster.

She stood, her polyester muumuu shifting under the too-large coat. Her silver hair was tucked under a scarf, which barely kept it under control. The staff in her hand made me nervous. That damned thing could suck up spirits right and left. Ivana collected them for her garden of evil ghosts, where she tortured them, feeding off their pain for magic.

Camille gave her a sharp curtsey and I bowed. Always paid to be polite when you were standing in front of someone who could make mincemeat out of you. A sharp wind blew by and Ivana laughed, raising her staff.

“A ghostie on the wind, come to me, my pretty. Come to the Maiden.” And with a zap, her staff lit up and we saw something wispy filter into it. A sharp wail sounded, though it was so high-pitched that any FBHs around wouldn’t hear it. They might feel a flash of fear, a sense that something wasn’t right, but they’d just shake their heads and move on.

We watched her smile, her razor-like teeth sparkling. She licked her lips and turned her beady stare to us. “Witch Girl and Pussy Cat. Too bad my Dead Girl is sleeping, for I would like to converse with her. I like dead things.”

“We seek a deal, if you would be willing to listen.” Camille knew the pattern better than I did so I kept my mouth shut. It was dangerous to dabble with the Elder Fae unless you knew what the fuck you were doing, and I was the first to admit that I was clueless about effective bargaining.

Ivana sat down on the wet bench, motioning for us to join her. Great, time to get our butts soaked. But we did as she asked. Again: you don’t quibble with those who can make you look like a dust mote.

“What say you, Witch Girl? What do you want from the Maiden of Karask? And what will you bargain with? Bright flesh would guarantee you a deal, you know.” Her crafty smile reminded me of a crocodile.

“We are not going to give you bright meat. No bright flesh! ” Camille stared at her sternly. Ivana was always trying to get us to bargain with babies. The fact that she meant it, and that she actually ate them with relish made us even more leery, but the Elder Fae lived so far outside our realm that there was no way to get through to them how bad of an idea this was. We just refused every time she hinted around.

“Then state your deal and I will see if it tickles my tooth.” Ivana glanced past her, coyly looking at me. “Standing back, are you, Pussy Cat? Afraid of the Maiden, perhaps?”

Involuntarily, I scooted over on the bench, moving away. I didn’t have any desire to be the focal point of this conversation. I decided my best course of action was to remain silent.

She sniggered and turned back to Camille. “State your deal, Witch Girl.”

Camille cleared her throat. “Prime beef flesh, for information that will benefit us. I will tell you what I want to know. If you have the answer, payment will be ten pounds of tender steak.”