Dying Dreams

Book 1 of the Dying Dreams Series

By

Katherine Sadler

Copyright © 2014 by Katharine Sadler

All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

*LIZA*

Liza almost turned around and went back up the beach when she saw the grey lump on the sand about 200 hundred feet ahead. The day had been so perfect, sunny and cool for late August, and she wanted it to go on being a perfect day. After recording data from the tide gauges, which indicated if the sea was still rising and how quickly, she wanted to finish collecting samples of seaweed for a friend’s research project and go home. She didn’t want to find a dead animal on the beach, especially not a dolphin.

Curiosity and a desire to help the beached animal propelled her forward. She studied the shift of sand beneath her feet as she walked, trying to think of anything but the corpse she was likely about to see. She thought instead about the results she’d recorded from the tidal gauges. She’d have to get them back to the lab to be sure, but it looked like the sea was still rising. Even with all of the restrictions on carbon output, the seas continued to rise, and the coastline of the planet continued to change. Ten years before the coast of North Carolina had been submerged all the way to Greenville where Liza walked the beach. She watched as the wind blew the sand off blacktop that had once been a road and just avoided tripping over a piece of driftwood. Two hundred yards to her left, a dilapidated house creaked in the breeze, a casualty of the more severe hurricane season.

As Liza picked her way down the beach, smiling at the VW bug that was rusted, covered in barnacles, and half-submerged just off the shoreline, she was glad to have only been fifteen when the world changed. She could appreciate the beauty of a rusted car that had become home to fish and had established its own little ecosystem, despite some people’s desire to pull it out and clean up the beach. She could appreciate the way the world continued on and wildlife found new niches, without so much of the sorrow for all the species that would never walk the earth again. She felt she was lucky to remember without being overly sentimental or nostalgic.

Those thoughts brought Liza to the gray lump on the beach and she forced herself to raise her gaze from her toes to the mass. She pulled out her cell phone to call the local animal rescue hotline, but almost dropped the phone when she saw a woman instead of a dolphin. Reflexively, she took a step back and shook her head, as though she could change what she saw. The woman remained, naked to the waist. Below the waist she had the tail of a fish. The woman’s skin was grey, her lips blue, and her eyes stared at the evening sky unseeing. Liza trembled and the world spun for a moment, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to move closer. Liza knelt in the sand next to her and pressed two fingers under her ear, but instead of a pulse, she found small gill-like openings. Feeling numb and a bit sick, Liza ignored the odd growths and continued to feel for a sign of life. The woman’s skin felt spongy and cold, and Liza found nothing to contradict what she knew in her gut: the woman was dead. With shaking fingers, Liza dialed 911 and told the operator what she had found and where she was.

“Hang up the phone.” Liza jumped and fell back on her butt. She looked up to see a man in jeans and a t-shirt. He was big, with muscles that bulged and sunglasses that reflected Liza’s face and the setting sun behind her. His angry expression made Liza take a step back and she was suddenly certain that he had killed the mermaid woman and was going to kill her next.

“Operator,” she said, her voice breathy with fear. “I’m sorry, there’s a man here with me and he—”

The man took the phone from her and put it to his ear. “Operator, this is agent Sloane Rice with the Department of Homeland Security, badge number 92359. The young lady who called you is intoxicated and confused. She found a large fish washed up on shore in an advanced state of decomposition, and mistook it for a person.”

“What the–” The man shook his head and pressed a hand firmly against her lips, grasping her chin with his thumb. Anger rushed up to replace her fear and she tried to yank his hand from her mouth, but he was strong, really, really strong and she couldn’t budge him. She stomped her foot and kicked at him, but arms wrapped around her and pulled her away before she could make contact. The man in sunglasses just continued calmly chatting with the 911 operator.

“Help!” she squawked, as soon as her mouth was free, but the muscle man closed the phone and gave her a smug smile. The arms released her and she spun around to come face to face with a short, stocky guy with a rough, pockmarked face. His smile was warm and his eyes kind, but she was still pissed. “What the hell?” she shouted. “There’s a dead woman there, and he’s telling them not to come out. We have to call them back.”

The stocky man put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in close like he was going to kiss her. “There’s no woman on the beach, it’s just a fish. It’s a very large, um, sailfish, that washed up on shore, and there is no cause for alarm.”

Her jaw dropped to her chest and she just stared at him for several long moments. “Seriously? Look asshole, I know fish and that on the beach is no fish. It’s certainly no sailfish.”

The stocky man’s eyes widened, then he shook his head and leaned in again. “It’s a woman in a costume and her death is related to a government operation. We will take it from here. She is not a mermaid. She is a woman in a costume.”

“A mermaid?” she said. “Of course she’s not…” Liza studied the man who was still holding her shoulders and noticed that he looked worried, a frown on his lips and a furrow between his bushy eyebrows. Something wasn’t right. She twisted out of his grip and dropped to the ground next to the woman. She ran her hands over the dead woman’s waist where the tail met her flat stomach and found no waistband or elastic. The scales felt like real fish scales, instead of plastic. She was jerked to her feet by a firm hand.

“Hey, you can’t just grab me like that,” Liza yelled. She had no idea what rights government agents had in that sort of situation, but Agent Rice frightened her and she’d do what she could to get away from him. He took off his sunglasses and gave her a long, slow appraisal she was sure was meant to inspire fear, but only made her forget that he was scary and notice how intense his stormy grey eyes were. The hard set of his mouth only drew her attention to his full, plush lips. The kind of lips that made her forget the dead woman, the sand under her feet, and the roar of the ocean. She stopped fighting him and he dropped her like her skin was hot. The moment he released her, her brain started working again. “I don’t know what’s going on her, but I’m not walking away and leaving you with a dead woman that may or may not be a mermaid, until I’m sure you can be trusted.”

“What the hell did you tell her, Fulsom?” The man demanded, but some of his earlier swagger had faded. He looked worried, as well as angry.

The stocky man, Fulsom, gaped at her for a moment. Then his jaw twitched and his eyes hardened. “It’s not me. It’s not working on her, elf stain.”

Agent Rice shook his head. “You did it again, didn’t you? How many times do I have to tell you…” He looked at Liza, like he’d forgotten she was there. “Shit, this is another royal cluster.” He turned to face her and she almost got lost in those eyes again, before she remembered he was a crazy man claiming to be a federal agent. “Look,” he said. “I know she looks strange, but—”

“I want to see some ID,” Liza said.

That stopped him. His angry, cocky expression slipped and she wanted to laugh. This was all just so ridiculous and terrifying and ridiculous. “What?”

“I.D. You claim to be a government agent, well, I want proof.”

Agent Rice shook his head, muttering something unintelligible, and reached into his back pocket. Liza took the chance to drop to her knees and run her hands over the dead woman’s belly again. She should have been wigged out, but her need to know overpowered the ick factor of touching a dead body. Liza only managed to confirm that the woman’s skin was fused with the fish scales before she was pulled to her feet again.

Liza wouldn’t be able to tell for sure that it wasn’t just a costume without getting the body into a lab, and she knew that wasn’t going to happen. It’s not possible she told herself, as Rice shoved a badge in her face, if mermaids existed, someone would have found them. She took the badge and studied it. She didn’t have a lot of experience with government badges, but it looked real and she couldn’t imagine the woman’s killer having the foresight to manufacture a fake badge in case someone found her body. Still, if he was a government agent, why did his buddy say so firmly that the woman wasn’t a mermaid? Something felt off, but she was a scientist and she… still if it was just a costume why did she need gills? That seemed a bit over the top.

“Why is she dressed as a mermaid?” Liza asked, handing the badge back.

“That is classified,” Rice said, without looking at Liza. Interesting. Since when was dressing up in a mermaid costume a matter of national security?

“Now, I need to see some ID from you,” Rice said.

Liza gave him her driver’s license without any argument. He studied her license and handed it back, without writing anything down or sliding it through any sort of device. Liza thought that was strange, but liked that he’d have no record of her.

“Look,” Rice said, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes. “Enjoy the rest of your vacation and forget what you’ve seen here today. I’ll give you a voucher for a free dinner at the Lobster Palace for your trouble and discomfort.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her two slips of paper.

“Ten,” she said.

Rice raised his eyebrows over his sunglasses and his face stilled. “What?”

“I think I need ten vouchers for dinner. I have a large family.”

Rice frowned, but he pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket and made a call. While he talked on the phone and recited a credit card number, they all stood over a dead body. Rice and Fulsom seemed not to even notice the woman on the ground and that made Liza like them less. Who would take care of her? It was a stupid thing to think when she was already dead, but Liza felt it so strongly that tears burned her eyes. As soon as Rice took his eyes off Liza, she dropped to the ground next to the body. Fulsom was on her in an instant and dragged her up, but not before she managed to snag a scale and hair sample and hold onto them, clenched in her fist.

“Those ten vouchers cost me more than you make in a week, Miss Simmons,” Rice said, a sneer in his tone. “And I expect to be reimbursed if I hear even the hint of a rumor about a mermaid washing up on shore.”

Liza had gotten what she wanted so she smiled and nodded and ignored the insult about her income. Still, she wondered at Rice so obviously bribing her to keep her mouth shut. What kind of government agent was he? “Would you mind giving me your business card in case I have any problems?”

“If you have any problems, we’ll find you.” He took her by the elbow and led her up the beach, to a public access point. When they got to the boardwalk that led back to the street between two fragile dunes, he released her and leaned in to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Leave this alone, Miss Simmons. Trust me when I say you don’t want to see me again and, if you don’t keep this quiet, I’ll be the least of your problems.”

Problem was, with him standing so close, radiating heat, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind seeing him again. He’d taken off his sunglasses to make his point and she felt herself leaning closer to get a better look at those eyes that reminded her so much of the sea. He might be an asshole, but she suddenly found herself fisting her hands to stop from reaching out, grabbing his face, and pulling him in for a kiss. Liza tended toward the impulsive, but never before had every instinct she’d possessed so desperately wanted a man. She lifted her head to check him out one last time, but he was gone, his large bulk moving back to his partner and the body gracefully. She watched him for a minute, until she noticed his partner smirking at her like he knew exactly what she’d like to do to Rice. She turned away and headed to the street, her head spinning.

CHAPTER TWO

*SLOANE*

“What the hell was that?” Sloane asked his partner, who was bagging the mermaid.

Fulsom zipped the bag, which was enchanted to resemble a briefcase when it was sealed, and stood to look in the direction Liza had gone. “That was one very stubborn woman with the cutest ass I’ve seen in months.”

Sloane felt his chest tighten and an unexplained anger pulsed through him at the thought of Fulsom looking at any part of Liza. He tried to focus on the case. “I’m talking about you using the word mermaid when you were supposed to be convincing her it was a fish.”

Fulsom shrugged and Sloane fought the urge to grab him by the neck and shake him. On some deeper level he knew that his anger had more to do with the bad day he’d had, but he was in no mood to be rational. Aria, the woman dead on the beach, had been someone he’d known and liked. He’d learned to cover his emotions, but he’d never learned how to be unaffected by a dead body, especially the dead body of a friend or acquaintance. “You wanna explain it to me using words?”

Henrik Fulsom studied Sloane, then his eyes widened and he chuckled. He started back down the beach the way they’d come, carrying the briefcase body bag. “You like her.”

Sloane took a deep breath and reminded himself that tackling the troll wouldn’t help, and would only give him more bruises he didn’t need. He knew the troll well enough to understand that he was trying to distract Sloane and himself from thinking about the contents of the briefcase. He also knew Fulsom was aware of how badly he’d screwed up and was trying to change the subject. Neither made Sloane feel warm and fuzzy toward his partner. He fell in step next to Fulsom and tried to speak calmly. “Why. The. Hell. Didn’t. The. Persuasion. Work?”

Fulsom shrugged again. “She’s immune. I mean I don’t got the strongest magic, but what I do got wasn’t working, so I’m thinking she’s immune. Probably got some fae blood in her somewhere.” He chuckled to himself. “Wouldn’t mind putting something else fae in her.”

“No one’s immune,” Sloane said. He had some fae blood and persuasion still worked on him, though he would have every right to kill someone who used it on him. If he found out about it.

“Cleatis is.”

“Cleatis is a fucking dragon and they’re immune to every fucking thing but other fucking dragons.”

“Language, pardner,” Fulsom said, and clucked in dismay. “This chickie really got under your skin.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t mind having her under my–”

“Can you go five seconds without thinking about sex?”

Fulsom looked at him, eyes wide. “Can you?”

“I can at least not share every thought that crosses my mind,” Sloane said. An image of Liza’s rearview as she walked away flashed in his mind, but he pushed it down. He had a gorgeous girlfriend and didn’t need to be thinking about anyone else’s attributes.

“Ah, so you are thinking about–”

“The only thing I’m thinking about is how much trouble she’s going to cause us, and the last thing I need right now is more woman trouble.”

Fulsom laughed again and Sloane resisted the urge to shove him in the cool, salty water. Sloane wouldn’t mind a swim himself, but Fulsom was a troll and trolls hated water.

“Frankie mad about you not coming home last night?”

“I was on a case.”

“You were on a hunch. You work too hard, and for what? They’ll never let you transfer, we’re understaffed as it is.”

“That’s not what it was about,” Sloane said, though he knew it was a lie and Fulsom knew it was a lie. He also knew Fulsom was right about him never getting that transfer, but if he accepted that he was going to be stuck in the supernatural division for the rest of his life, he might as well give up now. “And that’s not the point. What the hell are we going to do about the girl?”

“Hope she has a starring role in my dreams tonight?”

“Fuck. We’re so fucked.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Sloane rolled his eyes and kept tromping down the beach, his dress shoes making the walk more difficult and making him feel ridiculous. “Did you forget you’re married again?”

“Nothing in the marriage contract says I can’t flirt with a fine piece of a—”

“Okay, try to show a little respect.” Irritation rippled under Sloane’s skin and he tried to tamp it down. Fulsom was, by his very nature, a flirt and a sex-obsessed man, but he’d never cheated on his wife, to Sloane’s knowledge, and he’d never mistreated any woman.

Fulsom stopped walking. “Does that bother you, delicate flower? Is it my words you object to or is it that you want the woman?”

Sloane kept walking. He knew better than to give his partner anything to latch onto. “Let’s focus on the case.”

“Because the thing is, Buttercup, you got a serious, live-in girlfriend who wouldn’t be too happy about the thoughts you’re having about some woman you met on the beach.”

“The only thoughts I’m having are about the case.”

“The difference between me and you is that I’m thinking about sex, which my Melda will understand and forgive, but you, you’re feeling protective. You’re not thinking about getting your face between her thighs, you’re thinking about protecting her from creeps like me, you’re thinking about making her yours.”

Sloane kept walking and ignored Fulsom, but his words still managed to slide under his skin. Fulsom was an idiot about a lot of things, but he was very good about reading people, and Sloane knew he wasn’t wrong. Something about the woman had brought out his protective instinct and not in a brotherly way. It was the way she’d been so insistent on helping his dead friend, even though she was clearly afraid of Sloane. Sloane shook his head to clear the thoughts. “For once in your life, can you just shut up?”

Fulsom didn’t say any more, but the smug grin on his face was almost worse than his words.

CHAPTER THREE

*LIZA*

Liza jumped up as soon as Ellison walked in, his head down, his hair flopping into his eyes. Her dog, Beauty, a stray mutt she’d found wandering the streets the winter before, leapt up and ran to Ellison, whining for a pet. Ellison smiled and bent to scratch Beauty behind the ears. Liza studied him for a moment, unable to resist comparing him to Agent Rice. Ellison was lean, but not scrawny, he was wiry, with good muscle tone and a swagger that was more a shuffle. Then he looked up and she remembered exactly why she’d fallen in love with him. It was that sweet vulnerability on his handsome face, the need to be taken care of. He gave Liza a weak smile and she could see dampness in his emerald-green eyes. Beauty was jumping around Ellison’s feet yipping for more attention and Liza hurried over and picked her up, reminding her not to bark or they’d all be out on their asses, since dogs weren’t allowed in their lease. Neither was Beast, the cat that wound its way between Liza’s ankles and almost knocked her over.

“Shit, sweetie, what happened?” Liza asked once she’d regained her balance. She sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. “Tell me.”

Ellison slumped down and sighed. “She dumped me, Li. I had the trip all planned, five days in the Caribbean, and I’d saved for months, you know how hard I’ve worked.”

When he’d started saving for that trip, he’d been planning to take Stacia, but she’d dumped him three months ago and he’d just kept on saving anyway. He’d promised to take Liza, until he met Brooklyn. As a new lawyer at a small firm, he made a decent salary, but not enough to take a Caribbean trip without working for it. “You’d only gone out twice, sweetie. It might have been a little too soon to mention the trip.”

“But I was so sure she was the one, really the one. Besides, I asked you to move in when we’d only been going out for two weeks, and you didn’t get scared off.”

She’d moved in with him because she’d felt so strongly about him, and because she was just as impulsive as he was. “What we had was different and… I’ve always thought that when you meet the right girl she’ll be just as eager to jump in with both feet as you are, but I’m starting to think you might want to slow down just a little.”

“Slow down?”

“Maybe just hold back a bit. You can know you love someone after the third date, but you don’t have to start talking marriage and living together until a few months have gone by.”

“But why? I thought girls liked commitment and all that. You did.”

“I loved it. I love it. I love you. But most girls, sweetie, they need more time. Let them get to know you first.”

He ran a hand over her bare thigh and played with the hem of her shorts. “Why don’t you and I give it another try? We were so good together.”

“We were good together for exactly five weeks before we started driving each other crazy.”

He slid his fingers under her shorts and started angling toward the good stuff. She shivered. Chemistry had never been lacking between the two of them and he knew just how to push her buttons. “The sex was always good,” he said. She actually considered it for a few moments. It had been several months since she’d had actual sex with an actual man, and she was ready for that dry spell to end. But it had been two years since she and Ellison had slept together and she knew if they started again, they’d both stop trying to find someone else. She didn’t want them to end up together just because it was easy.

“No, sweetie, but I will take you and eight of your best friends out to dinner at Lobster Palace, my treat.”

Ellison’s two favorite things were food and sex, with true love coming in a close third, and he forgot all about seducing Liza as soon as she mentioned lobster. “You can’t afford that.”

“I’m not paying. Some guy on the beach had these free vouchers he couldn’t use and he gave them to me.” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell him the truth. She told Ellison everything, and she knew he wouldn’t tell anyone else. She just didn’t feel right about betraying the promise she’d made to Rice.

Ellison eyed her for a moment, not sure if he believed her, but since she’d never lied to him before, he started jumping up and down on the couch. “Suweet! I’m calling Johnny and Cal and Marcy. You pick the other five.”

She laughed at his enthusiasm. “Reservations are at eight, so hurry your ass up.”

He leapt off the couch and headed to his room, already dialing. She pulled out her own cell phone and started calling people. They shared the same friends, so it wasn’t hard to come up with a fun bunch.

She was underwater, but she wasn’t drowning. Somehow, she was breathing as comfortably as she did on land. She swam fast, her tail undulating and flicking through the water so easily it felt like flying, but she couldn’t enjoy the sensation. Her heart raced and fear choked her. Someone was chasing her and she had to get away, she had to – a sharp pain in her back stopped her. She tried to move, to swim away, but all she could do was sink, paralyzed, toward the ocean floor. The sandy bottom was closer than it should have been and she realized she’d swum too close to shore in her panic. She tried to turn, but her body wouldn’t respond and her panic increased. She thought of other women and men who moved through the water, their tails glittering in the sunlight. She thought of Ellison and her friends, she thought of her parents who she hadn’t spoken to in two months and wondered if they’d notice her absence from their lives. Then a face appeared before her, a man in a scuba mask. She studied his dark eyes and the scar on his nose as he raised a knife to her throat and pushed down hard. She knew she should feel afraid, she should try to fight, but some deeper part of her understood it was too late. There was nothing left for her to do, but to let go. His eyes were the last thing she saw before her world went black. Dark-grey eyes as cold and hard as stone.

Liza woke to darkness. She couldn’t see anything and her legs were being held by something. She kicked and twisted and, when strong arms pinned her down, she fought harder.

“Liza, chill, it was just a dream,” Ellison said.

She relaxed in his arms. Her throat hurt from screaming, and her face was sticky with tears. “God, it was awful,” she said. Bile rose in her throat and she forced it back down. “Something’s got my legs.”

Ellison untangled her legs from the sheet and pushed her down on the bed. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“What time is it?” She couldn’t stop shaking and her stomach was roiling. Ellison pushed her on her side and started rubbing her back.

“Four.”

“Shit, I have to be at the lab in an hour. I might as well just get up now.” But she didn’t move, she wasn’t sure she could move.

“Well, I’m going back to bed. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. “It was just a dream.” She knew it wasn’t, but Ellison wasn’t the person she needed to talk to about it and he would only worry if she did. She took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself. She flicked on the lamp next to the bed and watched him walk out, realizing for the first time that he was naked. “You brought someone home?” After dinner, they’d gone to Johnny and Cal’s for drinking games. She’d left before Ellison and walked home with a couple of guys who lived in the next building.

He looked back at her over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I sure did.”

“One of the group? Who is it?” She’d been telling Ellison he ought to go out with Marcy for ages. Marcy was a sensible, type A personality and could ground Ellison in a way Liza thought he needed.

Ellison frowned. “Marcy.”

“Yay!” She leapt up to her knees and air-clapped, so as not to wake Marcy. “You two are so cute together.”

“Don’t go picking out china, Li. It was just one night.”

Her heart sank. “It was bad?”

“We’ll talk later,” he said, and he left. That wasn’t good. If Ellison hurt Marcy, they’d probably have to stop hanging out with her and Liza loved Marcy. She thought Ellison loved Marcy.

Liza slumped back onto the bed, trying to figure out how she could continue her friendship with Marcy if Marcy hated Ellison, but all she could think of was her dream and sinking alone in the cold, dark water. She needed to get to work, then she needed to find Agent Rice.

Liza had been having the dreams since her eighth grade biology class when she’d had to dissect a frog. It probably should have put her off science to dream about a happy little frog struck down in his prime, but her love for biology overcame the icky dream and, well, it was just a frog. Not the most loveable of animals. As she progressed in biology, she’d had to dissect more animals and had more dreams. She figured the dreams were the product of an over-active imagination. Until she told Ellison about them six months before. He’d started testing her. She told him about the dreams she’d had in the past, always about dissection animals and he found out exactly how they’re killed and prepared for dissection. She’d never looked into it before, but it matched her dreams perfectly. Still, the method of death wasn’t terribly surprising and Liza figured she’d just made a reasonable assumption in her subconscious and then dreamed it.

So, Ellison concocted some tests. A buddy of his had killed a deer and they didn’t tell Liza how. That night she dreamed she was a deer shot with an arrow, she’d run off and been taken down by two more arrows. Her dream replicated exactly what had happened. Ellison was convinced, but she wasn’t ready to believe it until he took her to the local vet’s office. He’d slept with a girl who worked there, Liza accused him of sleeping with her just to get an in at the vet’s office but he denied it, and she let Liza get close to a dog who’d died in an unusual way.

That night, she dreamed that the dog, a German shepherd, was chasing a squirrel. The dog ran into the street following its prey and almost got hit by a car. The dog made it across the street and into the woods and was caught in a bear trap. The dog, though bleeding heavily, was still feeling strong and probably would have survived but, in its effort to get free, it made a lot of noise and a pack of coyotes took advantage of the easy prey. It was a horrific, painful death and she told Ellison she was done. She wasn’t going to play his game anymore. He apologized and felt terrible. He gave her the report of the dog’s death and it matched her dream exactly. They were both convinced after that, but they never talked about it again and she’d hoped never to die in another dream.

The biology lab at East Carolina University was empty when Liza arrived, so she started working. The university had suffered extensive flooding and wind damage in a major hurricane six years before and many campus buildings had had to be condemned. There hadn’t been money to replace the buildings, so modular classrooms had been moved in and now constituted the science department. What the school lacked in looks it made up for in the dedication and achievements of its faculty.

Liza was putting together specimens for an undergraduate summer school class, an underwater botany section. She used the seaweed she’d picked up the day before – the bits her friend didn’t need for her project – as well as samples they’d ordered that were from different fresh and saltwater bodies around the world. It was actually a pretty interesting array. She got everything together and laid it on the desks next to the students’ microscopes. The professor she was assisting, Dr. Gupp, showed up as she was finishing. He was older than her, in his mid-forties and starting to grey, but he looked like he was in his early thirties. He was in great shape, tan and lean, and he had an easygoing and fun personality. She’d never seen him get angry, but that morning he looked worried.

“Morning, Liza,” he said, as he walked in. “Would you mind putting off what you’re doing for a moment to speak with me?”

“Sure, Gupp,” she said, not worried. She worked hard for Dr. Gupp and was over two-thirds of the way through her dissertation. Whatever he was worried about couldn’t possibly affect her directly. She followed him back to his office and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. She was still tired from her night out and it felt good to sit. Dr. Gupp sat on the corner of his desk and looked down at her.

“Where’d you find those samples you gave me yesterday?”

She wanted to tell Gupp the truth, but she’d promised Agent Rice she wouldn’t and, well, the whole story just sounded too weird in her head. “There was a dead fish washed up on shore. I’d never seen anything like it before.”

Gupp nodded. “Any chance you bagged the fish and brought it with you?”

She shook her head. “No. It was in an advanced state of decomp, Gupp, pretty nasty. Why, what did you learn from the samples?” For the first time, she wondered if she’d made a mistake giving the scale and hair to Gupp, but it had made sense the day before. She’d studied the samples long enough to be sure that the scale wasn’t plastic and the hair wasn’t human, and had hoped Gupp, with his years of field work and study might have seen something like them before. She believed in science and logical explanations, and if there were truly mermaids in the sea, Gupp would know about them or he’d find what she hadn’t been able to and prove the woman was a human in a costume.

He studied her for a long moment. “The scale is cycloid, very similar to an eel’s scale, but different enough to be unlike anything I’ve seen before. And that strand of hair you gave me… did the fish have hair?”

Why hadn’t she thought this through before she gave Gupp the samples? Oh, yeah, because she never thought things through, she just figured everything would work out in the end and this was Gupp, she didn’t keep secrets from him. But telling him she plucked the hair from a dead woman because she thought she might be a mermaid? That was just too weird. “There was a lot of debris washed up on the shore. It seemed like the hair was attached, but like I said decomp was advanced, so…”

“That hair is insane. It’s got the composition of beaver fur, but it’s so long. Would you mind going back to the beach this morning, after you get the classroom lab set up, to see if the fish is still there? I’d go with you but–”

“You have to teach. Sure, I was planning to head out that way later anyway and I don’t have to be at the restaurant until six.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Liza. I appreciate it.”

She didn’t expect the mermaid to still be on the beach, but she’d hoped to find Agent Rice. The chances of that were about as likely as being struck by lightning, but she didn’t have any better ideas and she needed to see him. She’d seen the face of the man who’d killed that mermaid and she needed to tell him. Then, she needed to ask him how no one had ever noticed there were fucking mermaids in the ocean.

She walked up and down the beach, enjoying another sunny, warm June day, glad it hadn’t gotten too hot, yet. She combed the sand for seashells or seaweed samples, but there wasn’t as much since the sea had been calm for the past two days. She walked and saw nothing. No Agent Rice and no mermaids. After an hour, she headed back to the lab to help Dr. Gupp clean up, and to do some work on her own project.

CHAPTER FOUR

*SLOANE*

“You look like shit,” Fulsom said. He was sitting in the cubicle they shared, his feet propped on the desk and his knowing smirk annoying Sloane. “Have another fight with Frankie?”

“I need a new couch,” Sloane said, twisting and rubbing his back. He didn’t like to talk about his personal life at work, but he knew from experience that Fulsom wouldn’t back down until he got the story out of him. He was like a pit bull with gossip. It was easier to just throw him a bone.

“No, what you need to do is start paying more attention to your girl. You’re never gonna get the transfer, so stop wrecking your personal life and start putting Frankie first.”

“One of us has to think about the job,” Sloane said. “You got anything back on the mermaid?”

Fulsom nodded, his expression grim. “Same as the others. She was suffering from the increased temperature and acidity of the waters and she swam too close to shore. Looks like she was disoriented and was electrocuted. Adamson says it’s the right voltage for an eel.”

“How many eels are in that water?” Sloane asked. “Enough to kill eight mermaids in five weeks?”

“Not our problem. Boss wants us to go have a talk with the wolves today.”

“Fuck the boss,” Sloane said. “And fuck the wolves.” He hated those guys, more concerned with who had the biggest dick than with getting anything decided. He’d spend the day breaking up fights and cooling tempers. He’d rather cut the lawn out front with nail clippers. “I thought Richards and French had that gig.”

“They do, but the boss feels they need back-up. Someone called the police two nights ago claiming they saw wolves in their neighborhood. We’re to go talk to Gabriel tonight while Richards and French patrol the neighborhood where the sighting occurred.”

“Wish I’d known about this sooner. I promised Frankie I’d take her out to a nice dinner tonight.”

Fulsom gave him a long look. “You’re looking a bit peaked, Rice. You coming down with the flu? Maybe you should sit this one out.”

“And if I do? You’ll be stuck partnering with Shoring for this gig. You want that?”

“I want you to make it work with Frankie,” Fulsom said, in a rare serious mood. “I like her and she deserves to be treated better.”

Sloane grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it on. “Then maybe you should date her.”

“I’m married, asshole, but someone else is going to be dating her if you don’t take better care of her.”

Sloane strode toward the door and their usual beat patrolling known fae neighborhoods, but he knew Fulsom was right. Frankie did deserve better and a part of him hoped she did leave him. She was gorgeous, and smart, and funny and incredible in bed, but the thought of her leaving him only filled him with relief and hope. Hope that she could find someone better than him, someone who’d give her what she wanted. And give him a break, another, darker part of his mind whispered. A night without a fight, a night in his own bed, the freedom to live as he chose. Yeah, it was time for Frankie to go and, if she couldn’t figure it out for herself, maybe he’d give her a little push.

“Hello, agents,” a sultry voice purred in Sloane’s ear. The woman attached to the voice ran a hand down his back and actually pinched his ass. He spun and had her by the wrist and against the wall so fast he felt a bit dizzy. The female werewolf just laughed and Sloane had to admit she had no reason to be shy. She had the face of an angel and the body of a devil and her laugh, god her laugh, made him warm in places he liked to get warm. “I had a feeling you liked it rough,” she said.

“I’m working, Sherry,” he said, clenching his teeth and trying to tamp down his body’s response to her. He should have been exhausted after the day he’d had, searching for a missing fae kid and then breaking up a fae brawl in the middle of downtown, but Sherry charged his adrenaline.

She shrugged. “Maybe later, when you’re not working?”

“Leave the guy alone, Sherry,” a husky voice said over Sloane’s shoulder. “Or Vince will have to kick his ass.”

Sloane released Sherry and stepped away from her. “You and Vince?”

“Yeah,” she pouted. “You ruin all my fun, Tom.”

Tom grabbed her hand and led her away from Sloane and farther into the shifter-owned bar. He had no interest in tussling with Vince. And he was sure Sherry was nothing but trouble, even without a jealous, two-hundred-pound werewolf boyfriend.

Shifters, in general and in specific, were nothing but trouble. All of them, male and female, were obsessed with dominance games and sex. He had argued with his boss that shifters shouldn’t be in their jurisdiction, but part of their job was keeping the supernatural world a secret and snarling werewolves was the sort of thing that drew unwanted attention. Even so, he’d been in the division for eight years, was almost thirty and felt he was definitely too old and too experienced to still be dealing with fist fights and shifter politics.

Sloane studied the crowd filling the bar. Wolves, in human form, chatted and slapped one another on the back, but very few of them smiled. Like the wild version of themselves, male werewolves could be territorial and were especially sensitive to other men getting anywhere near their mates. Although everyone in the three-star restaurant swore allegiance to the pack, they kept their distance from one another as soon as they found a mate and started creating a family. The bar was neutral territory for them to see friends and family, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel the instinct to fight with every other wolf in the room to re-confirm the pecking order.

The women weren’t as territorial as their mates, but they seemed to love it when their men fought for them and they had their own dominance games. If a wolf, male or female, sensed weakness in another wolf, they would fight to move higher in the ranks. Sloane had seen them kill to do it. Not that any of them were bad people, they worked and they cared for their families, they just enjoyed physical fighting more than most humans did.

Sloane’s stomach growled as the smells of fries and burgers wafted over to him from the kitchen, but he ignored his hunger and continued to study his surroundings. The bar looked a bit dingier than it had the last time he’d been there. The walls needed to be painted and a few of the tables looked ready to fall apart if someone touched them. He wondered if business had slowed or if the wolves just had more pressing concerns than keeping the bar looking fresh and clean.

Sloane found Gabriel Moon, owner of the bar and alpha of the U.S. United Shifters Coalition and of the East Coast Wolf Pack, sitting at the bar, listening to the bartender and drinking a glass of pink wine. Sloane supposed when you were alpha of over 700 shifters you didn’t need to worry about a pink drink threatening your manhood. Gabriel Moon was older, appearing to be in his sixties, but since shifters didn’t age like humans he was probably well over two-hundred years old. Moon was one of the only shifters Sloane respected, he was probably one of the very few sentient beings Sloane respected. Sloane sat down next to Moon and the bartender looked at him, stopped talking, and walked away. He wouldn’t serve Sloane, didn’t serve agents, but Sloane couldn’t drink on the job anyway.

“Get your transfer, yet?” Moon asked.

“Had a wolf sighting,” Sloane said, already knowing exactly how the conversation was going to go. “You know anything about it?”

“They’re never going to transfer you, until you lose that 25% of fae blood you’re carrying in your veins.”

It was an old argument. One Sloane never won and he didn’t want to rehash it, but Moon had his way of doing things. “I’ll get my transfer. I just have to prove to them I’m capable.”

“How many solves you got?”

“Fifty.”

“Out of how many cases?”

“Sixty-five.”

Moon nodded, as though he hadn’t heard those statistics before. “How many vacation days you taken in the past eight years?”

“None.”

“How many of the people working in your division are human?”

“None.”

“You got a supernat for a boss?”

“No.”

“No. You got a human for a boss, watching over the supernats. How many supernats work in the other divisions?”

“I don’t know. Not everyone reveals their blood lineage.”

“But they check for that now, don’t they? That’s how you got shoved into the supernat department when what you wanted was to investigate terror threats, right?”

Sloane nodded, watching the bartender who was pouring a drink with one eye on him and Moon. Sometimes, Sloane wondered if there was anyone in the world besides Fulsom who trusted him. Sometimes he wondered if anyone should.

“So I ask again. How many supernats work in the other departments?”

Sloane blinked and swallowed down the rage that simmered just under the surface. Always there, always contained, eating away at him slowly, just like the job. “None.”

Moon nodded, satisfied. “I like you Sloane Rice. I do. But you’re a fucking idiot. You’re working for the wrong people. You are working for the enemy.”

“I’m not coming to work for you.”

“Someday you’ll change your mind. They’ve got us all registered now, did you know that?”

He nodded. He knew. He hated the registry as much as every other person with fae blood or supernatural abilities, but he couldn’t say that out loud. Complaining about the situation would do nothing to make it any better.

“What do you think is coming next, Sloane?”

“You get to vote?”

“Fuck you. Don’t bullshit me. I’m too damn old for it. You’ve worked for them long enough to know that whatever’s coming next ain’t gonna be good.”

“You don’t know that,” Sloane said, but a part of him knew Moon was right. His hope that Moon was wrong was what kept him getting out of bed every day, but his fear that Moon was right was what kept him working hard to be strong and well-positioned in the government for when the bad arrived.

“I tell you what, Sloane. You come work for me, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about me and my wolves.”

“I’m not a wolf.”

“That’s the difference between us and your government, Sloane, we don’t discriminate.”

Sloane looked at the bartender and snorted.

Moon threw back his head and laughed. “I didn’t say we all love non-shifters, but we don’t discriminate.”

“Tell me what’s going on with your wolves.”

Moon took a drink of his pink beverage, grimaced, and shook his head. “Wolves aren’t the problem,” he said. “Mermaids are the problem.”

“What do you know about the mermaids?” Sloane asked, the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck rising.

“I know they aren’t getting killed by fucking eels, Sloane. I’ll tell you this much, because as much as I hate your government, I don’t hate all non-shifters. I’ll tell you that some figure the humans are due a reckoning and the mermaids are the beginning.”

Sloane grimaced. He hated Moon’s riddles. “The mermaids are fae, Moon. Why would the fae start a war against the humans with the mermaids?”

Moon winked at a female shifter on the other side of the bar, before turning his attention back to Sloane. “You find the answer to that question, and you’ll have a shot of surviving.”

Fulsom stood next to the car, and blatantly flirted with a female wolf while her mate watched. Luckily for Fulsom, her mate was currently torn between amusement and anger. If the female wolf had been returning the flirting or if it looked like Fulsom was even remotely serious, he might have had a fight on his hands. If Fulsom was human, he probably would have had a fight anyway, but wolves didn’t fight trolls unless they had to. They were too evenly matched, and trolls, especially Fulsom, fought dirty.

Sloane ignored the scene and got into the passenger seat of the car. Fulsom blew a kiss to the male wolf and sashayed to the driver’s side door. He climbed in and ignored the wolf staring stonily after him. “You have a death wish?” Sloane asked, once Fulsom had started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

“I haven’t been in a good fight in two months,” Fulsom said. “I need to hit someone.”

“Huh.” He would never understand Fulsom. The guy always seemed so laid back that Sloane sometimes forgot the troll could get angry. Fulsom had given no indication of needing to let off steam, not even to Sloane, and Sloane was pretty sure he knew Fulsom better than anyone else. He started to ask the troll what was going on, but he stopped himself. Fulsom wasn’t a sharer. He was also annoying as hell and didn’t seem to care about anyone or anything. Sloane knew him well enough to know his apathy was pretense, but even Sloane wasn’t sure what Fulsom truly cared about.

“What did Moon say?”

“He’s got nothing to say about the wolf sightings. I say we park down the street and watch for any big groups leaving the bar.” As territorial as wolves were, they always ran in groups of at least three. Sloane didn’t tell Fulsom what Moon had said about the mermaids. The boss wouldn’t care about what Moon thought or knew. She didn’t trust shifters and she hated Moon. Sloane suspected she hated all supernats, but he thought it equally possible she hated everyone and everything. She was as miserable about life as Sloane was about his career projectory.

“Fuck.” Fulsom sighed. “Gotta call about another missing mermaid while you were with Moon. Boss wants us on it.”

Now Sloane wanted someone to hit. “So we can discover she was killed by another rogue eel?”

Fulsom said nothing.

“Why doesn’t she put someone else on it? Aren’t we supposed to be watching the wolves?” Sloane didn’t want to have to face Mellita’s sadness at losing another of her mermaids. He didn’t want to see another of his friends dead on the beach. But he also didn’t want anyone less sympathetic to the mermaids doing it.

“Mermaids asked for you. Boss is sending someone else to watch the bar.”

Sloane felt his shoulders slump and wished for a moment that he could say no and just go home, have a beer, watch mindless television with Frankie on the couch, but nothing in his life was ever that simple. If he went home, Frankie would be there waiting for him and she’d want to hash out their issues and she’d say she never came first with him, and he’d have to reassure her that he really cared about her. He did care about her, but he’d never loved her the way she should be loved. He’d tried. He’d wanted so badly to love her, for her to be that person who made his shitty days better and made his house feel like a home, all that sappy shit. He’d asked her to move in with him, because it was what people his age did, and because he liked her better than any other woman. If he went home, he’d have to break up with her, ask her to move out, because that’s what she deserved.

Fulsom studied him for several moments. “You know, you could go surprise Frankie. Get to sleep in a bed tonight. I’ll cover for you with the boss, and I’ll talk to the mermaids. Mellita will understand.”

Sometimes, Sloane wondered if trolls had a mind-reading ability they’d never revealed. He wished he was tempted to take him up on his offer, but Fulsom talking to the mermaids was a fucking disaster waiting to happen. Maybe if he’d had a better partner, he could have put more time into his relationship with Frankie. Yeah, it felt good to place some of the blame on Fulsom, but deep down Sloane knew the problem was all him. “No. Drop me by home so I can change and I’ll meet you there.”

Fulsom shrugged. “Okay, but I’m telling you, Frankie deserves better.”

“Yeah. I know she does.”

CHAPTER FIVE

*Liza*

Seaside Seafood was slammed and buzzing with noise and laughter. Liza moved between the tables taking orders and delivering food without having to think about it too hard. She’d been waitressing since she was sixteen, and it came easy to her, talking up the customers, flirting a little bit, laughing along, it all gave her a buzz of extra energy, like her morning coffee did. She could do all that and, in the back of her mind, she could think about her dissertation on the effects of climate change on the local emerita, or sand flea, population. Not too many people paid much mind to sand fleas. They weren’t exactly the most exciting crustacean, but they’d been her favorite sea creature as a child – they were easy to catch and to play with. If they were being negatively impacted by the increased acidity of the sea, she wanted to know. She had two more weeks of collecting to do, and she’d have all the data she needed to finish writing her dissertation and get her degree. Then she was heading out on a ship somewhere. With her degree, she could teach at the college level or run an aquarium, but she wanted to see the world from a boat. She wanted to get her hands dirty and live on the ocean for a while.

“Hiya, honey, how about coming over here and giving me some sugar.” The voice jolted her from her thoughts about fish, and she turned toward it knowing who she’d see before she looked.

Arty Munsinger was 85 years old, but that never stopped him from flirting with Liza and every other woman he saw. He was seated at a table in her section and she blew him a kiss. “I’ll be right with you, Arty, I’ve got an order up.” He shot her a wink and her step was a bit lighter on the way back to the kitchen. Arty always made her smile. He was weather-worn and looked every bit his age, but he had kept in shape and still went for long walks on the beach every morning. If Liza was 85, she’d be all over that, but Arty had told her once he preferred younger women – as in old enough to be his granddaughters. The old guy was loaded and charming and wasn’t entirely unsuccessful in his exploits, and Liza always rooted for him, but she would never go home with him.

Liza picked up her order from the kitchen and headed back out to the front. She probably could have gotten a job somewhere like the Lobster Palace and made more money in tips, but she preferred the locals to the tourists. Especially the older guys, like Arty, who still remembered what it was like around there when Greenville was landlocked. Arty had been smart, a waiter himself, who’d snatched up every bit of property he could before the ocean rose to meet the city and made it beachfront. While other people had been running around screaming about the world ending, Arty had been planning for the future. Many people had moved as far from the coast as they could, but there were still people who loved the sea and vacationed there, even a few wealthy people who chose to live there permanently. Since the government had forbidden new construction, in an effort to curb carbon output, he’d made a killing.

As Liza approached Arty’s table, she noticed he looked different and she studied him for a moment before she figured out what it was about him that had changed. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Arty you have horns.” And he did, little white nubby horns almost entirely hidden by his hair, but visible none-the-less. Arty’s expression changed from hopeful to intrigued and he raised his eyebrows.

“And if I do, would that make you more likely to come over and sit on an old man’s lap for a bit? Maybe tell him what you want for Christmas?” He looked her up and down. “Maybe something red and lacy?”

She swatted him on the shoulder, but couldn’t hide her smile. If a guy her age said something like that, she’d punch him in the nose no matter how cute he was, but Arty… Arty could get away with just about anything.

“Seriously, Arty.” She gestured to the horns. “Are they a prop to get women?”

He threw back his head and chuckled. “You think it would work?” When she just shook her head, his smile widened. “Why don’t you rub them and see if they’re real or not.”

She looked around the restaurant, but no one was looking at them, everyone intent on their food or their conversations. She put her hand in Arty’s surprisingly fine and soft hair and felt a horn. Holy shit, it felt like real bone. She pulled on the horn a bit and Arty moaned with pleasure. She jerked her hand away and sat down at the table across from him. Arty was laughing at her again, and she figured the moan had been his idea of a joke.

“Holy shit, Arty. They’re real,” she hissed at him.

He sobered up and his expression grew more serious than she’d seen it before. “Yes, they’re real and I expect you to keep it to yourself. I don’t need any science types nosing around me, trying to figure out what I am.”

“What are you?” she asked, wondering how she’d never noticed his horns before.

“Satyr,” Arty said, clicking his heels on the floor. She bent over slowly and peeked under the table to see hooves and furry goat legs. How had she not noticed that before?

“How…?”

He shrugged. “Humans don’t see what they don’t expect. I’d say you’ve seen something bizarre you can’t deny and it’s opened your mind to other possibilities. Plus, you might have a bit of fae blood in you that’s helping you to see through my glamour.”

“Fae blood?”

“You able to do anything else unusual?”

“I dream of the dead,” she said before she thought better of it.

He just nodded, his face revealing no expression. She figured he was hiding his surprise to be polite. “Bit of banshee blood, probably. Now tell me, do the horns and hooves do anything for you? I promise you satyrs are better in bed.”

She almost missed his proposition, she was so shocked by his admission. “Nope. Sorry, Arty. But I can serve you dinner. What would you like tonight?”

She could have smacked herself for leaving herself open for that one. “I’d like you, naked on my table, with pancakes and syrup covering all of your naughty bits.”

That image was just too much. She couldn’t help laughing. “You never fail to make me laugh, even though you’re a lecherous old man who should know better.”

“I’d never fail to make you come either, if you’d just give me a chance.”

She shook her head. “You want eggs with those pancakes?”

Arty gave her a nod and a wink and she got back to work, the back of her mind now struggling with the existence of satyrs, which made the existence of mermaids that much more likely.

She got out of the restaurant around midnight. She should have gone home and gone to bed, but she didn’t have to get up early the next morning and she was wired from the night. Seaside Seafood was one of the few restaurants that had chosen to ignore the governor’s suggestion that all businesses and residences re-locate three miles from shore. The restaurant sat on a small hill five hundred yards from high tide and had the best views in Greenville. Liza stepped outside, breathed in the scent of the sea and headed to the beach for a moonlit stroll. The beach at night probably wasn’t the best place to go alone, but she’d had years of self-defense training and mace in her purse. It may have been more than ten years since the topography of the world changed, but there were still a lot of hungry, desperate people in the world. A lot of people who’d lost everything they had and had no qualms about stealing to get it back.

The beach was quiet and the moon was bright enough that she didn’t need a flashlight. She kicked off her shoes and left them where they lay. She’d get them on the way back. The sand was still warm from the hot day and was a gentle massage on her sore feet. The waves were calm and rolled gently against the shore, the smell of salt water calming her and reminding her that she was home. She’d grown up on the coast of Virginia, and although the news and people told her times were more dangerous, she never would have walked on the beach alone at night in Virginia Beach ten years ago, either. With the severe weather and the rise of the oceans people everywhere had lost loved ones and possessions, their homes. People had learned to fear nature in a way they’d once forgotten. Besides that, the loss of coastal cities, particularly the big ones like New York and DC, and every one of the major shipping ports, had ruined the economy and panic had spread everywhere.

People had banded together for a while, to clean up the mess and find homes for refugees, to deal with the new weather patterns and the changed shape of the world. And, sure, there’d been a lot of desperate people and there’d been violence and crime. In Liza’s opinion, the crime hadn’t increased as much as people’s fear had increased. The threat of violence just gave people one more excuse to hide in their homes and keep to themselves. Hoard their resources in case the climate catastrophe was only the beginning. Liza had been sixteen, and she hadn’t wanted to hide, so she’d seen the good in the people who’d had to rebuild, the good that countered the bad. It didn’t mean she was stupid enough to walk out alone at night without some form of protection, but she wasn’t going to hide in her apartment on a beautiful night, either.

After the seas had calmed and the weather seemed to stabilize, businesses had moved and rebuilt. The gap between the poor and wealthy and between those who could adapt and those who couldn’t had widened and the unemployment and homeless rates were still high.

She was dipping her toes in the water and admiring the reflection of the bright moon, when she felt a hand on her elbow. She pulled her mace out of her purse, spun free of the hand and held the mace to the person’s forehead.

“Whoa, whoa,” the man said, hands in the air, backing up. “It’s me Agent Fulsom. We met yesterday.”

She couldn’t believe her luck. She’d found Fulsom without even trying. She looked around for Agent Rice, but didn’t see him on the beach. She lowered the mace and slid it into her purse, but she kept a hand on it. “Sorry about that,” she said, giving him a bright smile, but keeping her distance.

“It never hurts to be careful,” Fulsom said. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone. You meeting someone?” There was a hungry look in his eyes and she took another step away from him, until she was ankle-deep in the surf.

“Yes,” she lied. “I’m meeting my fiancé, Ellison. He should be here any minute.” She’d always believed if you’re going to lie, you ought to go all the way.

“Your fiancé, huh. That’s too bad. I’m meeting my partner here, but he’s late, and I thought you might be interested in getting a drink.”

Fulsom’s phone rang and he answered it before Liza had to respond. She considered walking away while he was on the phone, but she wanted to talk to him about the mermaid and her dream.

“Shit. Yes, we said we’d meet at the marina, but the boss doesn’t want us to go out there tonight… Sorry, I forgot to tell you. She says Mel will meet us near shore… Yeah, by the black rock… I’m on the beach, asshole… Don’t take your pissy mood out on me… Yeah, okay.”

Fulsom hung up the phone and looked at Liza, like he’d forgotten she was there. “Change your mind about the drink?” he asked.

“No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about the mermaid on the beach.”

He grinned. “Mermaid, ha! You mean the lady dressed like a mermaid?”

He was overcompensating, his voice boisterous. She wondered how he’d ever gotten to be an agent when he lied so badly. She wondered if he really was an agent at all and the idea of telling him what she’d seen in her dream when they were alone, on a dark beach, seemed suicidal suddenly. “Yeah, anyway, I never got your card and I wanted to call… your office and tell them what a great job you did and how professional you were.”

Fulsom smiled and winked at her, before pulling a card out of a pocket of his suit jacket and handing it to her. He snatched it back before she could put it in her own pocket, though, pulled out a pen and wrote something on the back. “In case you change your mind about that drink,” he said. She took the card and he started walking away. “I’ve gotta go, but I hope to see you around again sometime,” he called over his shoulder.

What a gentleman. And he’d left her alone on the beach without offering to wait with her until her fiancé showed up. A real gem, that one.

CHAPTER SIX

*SLOANE*

Sloane had expected to meet Fulsom at the marina, sail out, scuba down, and talk to the merfolk, so he’d worn tattered jeans, a t-shirt, and flip flops. He kicked off the flip flops as soon as he got to the beach and stomped down the shoreline. He passed a woman, who looked vaguely familiar, going the opposite way, but he was mostly seeing red, so he kept moving without giving her another thought. He saw Fulsom sitting on the black rock, his head looking even more bulbous in the moonlight. God, he wished he could do this job without a partner. He climbed up onto the rock, which was actually what was left of an old elementary school, buried mostly in the sand and weathered to black, and sat next to the troll. “Where’s Mellita?”

Fulsom shrugged and Sloane wanted to push him off the rock into the water. “Guess she had to take off. She’ll be back. She knows you’re never on time.”

Sloane grunted, not wanting to fight. Fulsom was the one with the time management problem, and he was poking at Sloane for his own amusement. Sloane knew this, but he couldn’t help getting angrier. He hadn’t spent enough time at the gym that morning. He needed to punch the bag for another few hours and shake it off.

“How’d it go with Frankie?”

“She’s moving out as we speak,” Sloane said. He didn’t want to tell Fulsom that much, but he knew trying to keep his personal life to himself would only make the troll more curious. Sloane might also want to talk about it, but he’d never admit that to Fulsom or to himself.

“Ah, and how do you feel about that?” Fulsom asked.

“Peachy,” Sloane growled. He’d never seen Frankie’s face so red before. She’d blamed him, blamed him for wasting two years of her life. Wasted how? They’d had fun together. He thought they’d had fun together. Of course, when he tried to explain that to her, it only made her angrier. Women were so irrational.

Fulsom shrugged. “You know it’s for the best. Now she can move on. Find a man who wants to give her a family. You know that’s not what you want.”

A family. He hadn’t realized she’d wanted one. Not until she took all of her clothes off and threw herself on him, demanding that he at least give her a baby so she could get something out of the relationship. How had he not realized sooner how crazy she was. When he turned her down, she started crying. He hated it when women cried. He’d held her until she’d calmed down and, when she started packing, he’d left to meet Fulsom. He’d never been so happy to get out of his own house in his life. “She never told me she wanted a family,” he said, his tone sounding childish and whiney even to his own ears.

Fulsom looked at him, his eyes wide and bright in the night. “Then you weren’t listening. I got that message last year when we went on that double-date.”

Shit, how had he missed it? Because you didn’t want to see it, a voice said in the back of his head. Damn but he was a shitty boyfriend. Thank god, she hadn’t gotten pregnant. He wasn’t cut out for fatherhood. Luckily, Mellita’s head popped out of the water and ended their conversation. Mel was gorgeous with coffee-dark skin, huge brown eyes, the bone structure of a super-model, and thick, dark hair. Too bad she only had one use for men and was as likely to drown them as fuck them. “Hi, Mel,” he said, smiling at her. He liked her, no matter how many unsuspecting men she’d lured to their deaths.

“Hi, Handsome,” Mel said, her smile broadening to show sharp teeth. “And Ugly. Want to explain why you kept me waiting?”

“Romeo here was ditching his girl,” Fulsom said.

Mel looked at him, her eyes sparking with new interest. “Really? Well, Sloane, you’re single again. How wonderful.” She swam closer and Sloane was pulled in by her beauty and her gaze. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the water with her and forget the pain on Frankie’s face. The pain he’d caused.

“Tempting, but I like breathing air.”

Mel laughed. Her laugh as seductive as everything else about her. “The rumors about me and my sisters aren’t true, Sloane. We’d treat you well.”

He suddenly had an image of Mel and her sisters, who were just as seductive and gorgeous as her, taking care of him and he groaned, his body hardening in important places. He swallowed and tried to think about something mundane, while Mel laughed, fully aware of the effect she had on him.

According to Mel and her sisters, the only people immune to the mermaids’ charms where the mermen, but he’d never met one so he couldn’t be sure. The mermen stayed home and the women hunted and interacted with the topside world. Under the sea, the women were in charge and the men cared for the home and family. “You wanted to talk to us about one of your sisters?”

Mel’s expression changed from flirtatious to serious in an instant, and Sloane knew her well enough to know that her flirting had been a distraction for herself as well. “Yesterday. We’ve been sending out hunting parties to the edges of our borders to make sure all is peaceful, and one of them didn’t come back.”

“You send them out alone?” Sloane asked, his body forgetting all about emotions like lust.

Mel shook her head. “I send them out in teams of three, but Luella wandered off when the others weren’t watching. She’d been agitated all morning and kept saying she heard something, but no one else heard it.” Mel sighed and looked out over the water. “Something had been off with her for a few days.”

It fit with what the doc had said about the disorientation Aria experienced before death, but would it make her hear things? Sloane had worked with the mermaids for more than five years, and they were the most level-headed fae, the most level-headed people he knew. If this Luella had heard something, he tended to believe her. “Did she say what the noise sounded like?”

“Like metal grinding against rock,” Mel said. “She said she only heard it when she got near our Eastern boundary, so I sent extra scouts out there, but none of them heard it. She was always more sensitive than the others.”

“You think she really heard something,” Fulsom said. He knew as well as Sloane that mermaids were a grounded folk.

Mel nodded. “It reminded me of the stories of the old days, when humans drilled into the sea bed for oil. Some of our kin are more sensitive to the vibrations of the seabed than others, so when Louella said she heard something, I think she actually felt it. She is more affected by spills of oil, even from miles away, and she is more affected by the warming of the sea. I believe she really did feel something.”

Sloane leaned back on his heels. He believed that Luella had felt something, but he doubted she’d sensed drilling. Drilling the ocean floor had been banned ten years ago, when the oceans rose and so many people died. “Where is your Eastern boundary?” Sloane asked.

Mel gave him the coordinates and Fulsom wrote them down while Sloane stared out over the ocean and hoped they’d find Luella alive. He’d never met her, but he knew Mel cared about her and he didn’t want to have to bring Mel more bad news. “You have your sisters out looking for her?”

“We’ve scoured our territory. She is beyond our boundaries,” Mel said.

“We’ll walk the beach tonight, and we’ll dive tomorrow.”

Mel nodded and dove back down beneath the ocean surface without a splash. Fae didn’t abide by human manners. To thank someone meant you owed them, and fae didn’t like to owe anyone.

Sloane stood and stretched, his muscles stiffening from his workout and from squatting in one position for so long. “I don’t like this.”

“You got one of your bad feelings?” Fulsom didn’t bother to hide the sneer in his voice.

“I don’t like to see the mermaids dead or in trouble. They’re a good people.”

“They seduce and drown men,” Fulsom said.

“And trolls eat the ground bones of humans. Given the choice, I’ll take death by mermaid. Besides, I’m not sure I believe the stories. I’ve never met anyone drowned by a mermaid, have you?”

Fulsom snorted and hopped off the rock and onto the sand behind Sloane. “You gonna take her up on her offer, then? If I have to go, I think drowning by Mel and her sisters would by my preferred method.”

Sloane smiled for the first time all night. “That might just be the one and only thing you and I agree on, Fulsom.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

*LIZA*

It was so dark the moonlight barely penetrated to her beneath the water, but she could see perfectly. The sea world through her eyes was slate grey and so beautiful. Fish flitted like silver wisps in her view and she wanted to stop and watch their dance against the backdrop of the sea. Unfortunately, the horrible noise, like bones grinding, wouldn’t stop, and it made her head and body ache. She wanted to swim away from it, but she needed to know what it was. The sound had been bugging her for days and it was making her sick. She needed to make it stop.

“Louella! Louella where are you going?” She heard her sisters behind her, but she couldn’t go to them. She needed to make the noise stop. She swam around a large rock and she saw it, a huge, shiny grey tube, like a spiral shell, that was pushing down into the earth, making that awful sound. There were men swimming around the metal tube, far enough away not to touch it or the rocks flying up from it. She backed up, but it was too late, one of the men had seen her. She turned and started to flee, confident she could outswim him, but then a jolt of electricity hit her, and she felt arms wrap around her. She looked up into the human face behind the mask, and tried to smile at him, hoping she could seduce him into letting her go. The man sneered, and she knew he hated her. She would be able to persuade him of nothing. As he dragged her closer to the metal tube and the grinding noise, her head started to spin and she closed her eyes and let darkness take over.

Liza woke up in twisted sheets, sweaty and panicky. Tears streamed down her face and she was still mentally begging, Please let me go. Please, I don’t want to die. Please let me go back to my sisters. She kicked her way out of the sheets and raced to the bathroom, where she fell to her knees, feeling like she might throw up. She managed to keep her dinner down, but she couldn’t stop the tears. She leaned back against the tub and cried for Louella until she regained control of herself. She stood and leaned over to turn on the shower. The water ran without electricity, but their apartment building didn’t link their hot water heaters to solar panels, so she’d be having a cold shower. With the government curbs of carbon output, there came electricity rations. In Liza’s neighborhood, hot showers were only possible in the evenings.

“You okay?”

She turned to see Ellison standing in the doorway. He was watching her with that little crinkle between his brows, which meant he was seriously worried. He must have heard her crying and waited until she was done to show his face. If Ellison had kryptonite, it was sobbing girls. She wanted to tell him what was going on, but she didn’t have the energy. Her stomach still roiled and she hadn’t quite managed to smother the ball of panic in her gut telling her to fight, or the overwhelming despair at the knowledge that she was beyond fighting. She’d dreamed many deaths before, but none had been as vivid as that dream and she’d never had a recurrent death dream. Something was wrong, something was seriously wrong. “No, I just had a bad dream. It was silly of me to cry about it. I think I might be coming down with something.” She wanted to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t ready to say it aloud. Not yet.

Ellison nodded, but he didn’t look at all convinced. “Sure. You want me to stay home today? Take care of you?”

“No. Go to work. I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. She stepped out of her pajamas and into the shower to end the conversation. She and Ellison had seen each other naked often enough that she didn’t think it’d affect him.

He cleared his throat and the floorboards shifted under his creaking weight. “You should know that Marcy and I are done.”

She stuck her sudsy head out of the shower and stared at him, mouth hanging open. “What happened?”

He looked at the floor and shrugged. “It just isn’t going to work out.” He turned and started away. “If you aren’t going to tell me what’s really going on with you, I’m going to work.”

“This isn’t done!” She called after him. “Marcy is perfect for you.” He didn’t answer, so she left it for later. She’d corner him and grill him when they were both home for the night. Maybe she’d check in with Marcy, too. She rinsed her hair and tried not to think about her dream, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to die, and she needed to understand what Louella had seen. What was a giant drill doing in the middle of the ocean?

Once she was out of the shower and dressed, she dialed Fulsom’s office number, but there was no answer. She hesitated to try his cell, since she didn’t want him to think she was taking him up on his offer of a drink, but she needed to talk to someone about what she’d dreamed. And if anything she’d seen could help that girl… That decided, she dialed Fulsom before she could give it any more thought.

“Hello?” Fulsom sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up.

“Hi, this is Liza Simmons.”

“Who?”

“I’m sorry. We’ve met twice now on the beach. The first was over the dead body of a woman.”

“Oh, of course, Liza.” Fulsom cleared his throat. “Have you decided to take me up on that drink? I have to say I don’t usually drink before 10, but for you–”

“No,” she said, a bit more firmly than she’d intended. “I need to talk to you about a dream I had.”

“I do tend to have that effect on the ladies. You might not take to me right away, but–”

She groaned mentally. She was doing this all wrong. “No, I… when I touch someone who’s died I dream about their death, and I had a dream about the dead woman, Louella. I saw who killed her, and I saw a huge metal drill, and it was making the most hideous noise.” As she started to describe what she’d seen, the dream came back to her and she realized it had changed. In her first dream, the man had electrocuted her from behind and she’d been fleeing, not looking for something. “Actually, I–”

“How did you know that name?” All flirting and teasing were gone from Fulsom’s tone.

“What?”

“Did you follow me last night?”

“What? No. I told you. I had a dream.”

There was a long pause and then Fulsom came back, his voice odd. “Of course you did, and I want to hear all about it. Can I take you out for coffee?”

“Actually, I was just on my way in to work. Could I meet you later?”

“That won’t be possible today. How about I bring you coffee and walk you to work? What’s your address?”

Liza didn’t make a habit of giving her address to strange men, but she wanted to tell him what she’d seen and get it out of her head. It made her feel more comfortable that he’d taken a business-like tone. “Okay, sure. It’s 324 East Aspen Dr, Apt 34B. But I have to leave soon, so–”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Less than three minutes later, there was a knock at her door.

Liza grabbed her bag, opened the door, and almost ran smack into Marcy who barreled inside.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Marcy asked. Her eyes were red-rimmed and damp. “He won’t call me, won’t answer my calls, and isn’t even coming out with the group any more. Was I really that bad in bed?”

Liza dropped her bag on the floor and sighed. That conversation with Marcy couldn’t be short, and she didn’t have time for it. Liza closed the door and sat down on the couch next to Marcy. “Sweetie, I really want to talk about this, but I’m meeting someone and I have to get to work.”

Marcy’s eyes widened in horror. “That’s it, isn’t it? I’m horrible in bed. He’s been flirting with me for months. Months, Liza, and I finally give in and he disappears. Ellison never disappears. He’s the only guy in the world who gets more serious than the girl.”

“I know.” Liza sighed. “I don’t think you were bad in bed. He hasn’t said anything to me, but I’m going to talk to him and then I’ll talk to you, okay? I’ll tell you exactly what he says.” There was probably some friend code that said Liza shouldn’t reveal Ellison’s secrets to Marcy, but she didn’t care. She liked Marcy.

Marcy sniffed and nodded. “The thing is, Liza. I think I fell in love with him without even realizing it and now he wants nothing to do with me.” Her sobs started in earnest then. Liza pulled Marcy against her shoulder and stroked her hair, but another knock interrupted them.

“Sweetie, I’m so, so sorry, but I really have to go. I’ll talk to Ellison. Everything will be okay, I promise.” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth, but she didn’t have time to feel too bad before a deep, masculine voice roared through the door. “Homeland Security. We know you’re in there. Open the door.”

The roar hadn’t sounded like Fulsom. Liza’s heart began to race and she wondered if she hadn’t made a huge mistake. Liza leaned over and gave Marcy one last hug. “I hate to ask you this, but if you don’t hear from me in an hour, could you call Ellison to come spring me from Homeland Security, whatever that is?”

Marcy nodded, her mouth open, and Liza opened the door. Before her stood Agent Rice. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his hair was slicked back, and seeing him in the full light of day made Liza’s breath catch. He had the face of an old timey movie star, all soft edges and charm and the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger. He was Cary Grant on steroids. His only perceivable flaw was a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken once or twice. She took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that his over-worked body likely indicated both vanity and a narrowness of focus that meant he’d be the most boring of dates, but she couldn’t make her body listen to reason. She was pretty sure she was staring at him with wide doe eyes and a dreamy look. Even Marcy, in love with Ellison, gasped. Liza swallowed and forced her eyes to stop roaming his body. She lifted her gaze to his face and found him staring at her like there might be something wrong with her. Just once she’d like to scope out a gorgeous guy and find him scoping her out back. Just once.

“Can I help you?” She said in a snippy tone, just because he’d pissed her off. She was an attractive woman damn it. Her attention was flattering.

“Fulsom called me and said you had some information about the…” He glanced at Marcy and winced. “The incident on the beach the other night. I’d like you to come to our office to discuss it.”

“No.” Seriously who the hell did this guy think he was? “I told Fulsom he could buy me coffee and walk me to work and that’s all I’ll do. I’m already going to be late and–” She looked at her watch to confirm what she suspected. “I’m already late. Marcy can you lock up when you leave?”

Marcy nodded and Liza took a step forward, expecting Sloane to move, and walked straight into him. Her body was pressed up against his for a moment and the feel of him made her forget she was mad. He took her by the shoulders and moved her back into the apartment like she was a toy doll version of Liza. “I’m afraid you’ll have to miss work this morning, Miss Simmons. You have information about an ongoing investigation and we need you to share that information.” He met her gaze and pleaded with those stormy grey eyes. “Lives are at stake.”

“Okay, fine, just let me call my boss.” It was the lives at stake that got her, not the eyes. Definitely not the eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

*SLOANE*

Sloane watched Liza through the two way glass and wondered how he’d missed how gorgeous she was the other night. It had been dark and there’d been a dead body, but it was his job to notice his surroundings, to be aware of the people around him, and she’d barely shown up on his radar. Sure, he’d noticed enough to get a bit protective, maybe appreciate a rearview, but he hadn’t realized how wide and soft her brown eyes were, or how shiny and full her brown hair was. He hadn’t appreciated the fullness of her lips or clearness of her skin. That night, he hadn’t felt what he’d felt standing on her doorstep, an undeniable desire to touch her, to pull her against him and hold on. He watched Liza lean forward to rest her head in her hands and her tank top dipped to reveal the creamy tops of what appeared to be perfect, round breasts. Desire racked his body so hard, he almost groaned aloud. Then she looked up at the glass like she knew he was watching her. Her hair was a bit mussed from her hands being in it, like it might be when she woke up in the morning, and her intense, brown eyes bored through the glass as her pink, full lips twisted into a grimace. A grimace that tugged at a spot deep in his chest and made him want to rush in there and fix whatever was bothering her. Shit, he was so screwed. He had to focus, dammit. She was a fucking suspect.

“Tell me again what she said.” He turned to Fulsom and caught him watching Liza just as eagerly as he’d been. He wanted to punch his partner in the nose and tell him to stay away from Liza, like some barbarian, like he had any right to claim her or ever would after he’d shown up on her doorstep and dragged her to headquarters like a criminal. Instead, he straightened his cuffs and waited for Fulsom to tune back in to him.

“Said she dreams about dead people, dreams how they died. Said she saw how the mermaid on the beach died, but the name she called her was Louella. How could she know that name? She’s got to be in this somehow.” Fulsom’s voice lacked conviction. Sloane might let Liza’s face and body convince him she couldn’t be a killer, but Fulsom’s strength was reading people no matter how perfect their lies or how delicious their attributes. If Fulsom doubted she was involved, then she probably wasn’t involved.

“We got anything on this phenomena? Dreaming of the dead?”

Fulsom shook his head and looked like he hated himself. “Sure. Banshees, who are extinct, could dream of the dead. But only the most powerful, full-blooded Banshees. Sara’s looking to see if she can find mention of it anywhere else.”

“Fuck.” Sloane’s anger, fueled by the night he’d had and a workout cut short that morning, overwhelmed him. He banged a fist on the glass and saw Liza jump and then glare at the mirror. “Does the boss know?”

Fulsom shook his head. “But we gotta tell her. Whether she’s a suspect or not, we can’t slip this one past her.”

Sloane took a deep breath, but he didn’t feel any calmer. If Liza was found to have any fae blood, she’d be registered as fae and would be expected to work for and with the government as they saw fit. He didn’t know her and he probably never would, but for some reason he didn’t want to see her pulled into the government fae registry. He knew that murderers could hide under a lot of guises, but his gut and Fulsom’s skill were telling him that woman wasn’t a murderer or even an accessory to murder. He seriously doubted she knew more than what she’d told Fulsom. If she was telling the truth, she’d put her life on hold because she’d had a dream about a dead woman she’d never met and there were precious few people in the world who would do that. He liked her for it and he didn’t want to have to be the one to ruin her life.

If he hadn’t been in such a bad mood that morning, distracted by a pleading call from Frankie, he might have asked more questions when Fulsom called and told him he needed to go pick up a suspect. He might have handled things differently if he’d paid more attention to Liza on the beach that night. And he might be wrong, he reminded himself. She could be a great actress and guilty as hell, or he could be letting his attraction and hormones see something in her that wasn’t there.

Fulsom watched him like he knew what he was thinking. “Want me to talk to her? I’m the one who fucked this up. If I’d known about the banshee thing sooner…”

Sloane shook his head. “No, we’ll play this like we always do. I’ll go in and be an asshole and you go in and pick up the pieces.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I’m damn good at being an asshole.”

Sloane couldn’t dig up even a smile at that. “Why change what’s always worked?” And on some level, he wanted to go in there and be an asshole. He didn’t want her to like him, didn’t want to find out what would happen if she turned those big, brown eyes on him and showed him kindness or the kind of heat that had flashed in them when he’d shown up at her door.

Sloane walked out and knocked on the door of the interrogation room. He braced his shoulders, took a deep breath, and put on his best angry face.

“Come in,” Liza called, her voice sugary sweet and weakening Sloane’s resolve for just a moment. Man up, he muttered to himself. He threw the door open, slammed it behind him, and stomped into the room. Probably a bit over the top, but it got her attention, her eyes had somehow gotten wider and she was sitting up straight in her seat.

Sloane paced the room, throwing his weight around, trying to look intimidating, not daring to look at her face. If she started crying, he’d lose it and have to send in Fulsom. “Tell me how you know Louella,” he demanded, his voice rough and growly.

“Fuck you,” Liza said.

Sloane looked at her and, instead of tears, he saw her cheeks red, her eyes flashing. “Excuse me?”

“What? You can’t hear me over the sound of your own arrogance? Who the hell do you think you are? I called you. To help you. I skipped out on work and pissed off my boss, because you asked me to. Now, you’re going to storm in here like a spoiled toddler and expect me to tell you anything when you speak to me like that?”

Shit, he’d overplayed it. He hadn’t overplayed it since his first year. She’d just… and he’d… shit, he was screwed. But he couldn’t back down, or he’d look like the good cop and he was supposed to be the bad cop. She’d never trust him if she figured out the whole thing was an act. He had to carry it out as they’d planned. He turned and glared at her. “You expect me to believe you’re here to help? You give us the name of someone you have no way of knowing and you don’t think we’re going to pull you in and wonder who the hell you’ve been talking to? Who the hell you’re involved with?”

Her mouth dropped open and she just stared at him for a long moment. “If I was involved why would I call you and give you a name I’m not supposed to know? How does that make any sense, Agent Rice?”

Work with the fae long enough and all sorts of crazy things started making sense, Sloane thought. It wouldn’t be the first time a fae had implicated herself, just to laugh while he and Fulsom chased their own tails and the person they should have been chasing got away. Every fae he’d ever met, who had half an ounce of backbone, hated him and his organization, hated the registration, and took pleasure in fucking with him. Sloane could have explained all of that to Liza, but it served no purpose. Or he could have told her they suspected she might know someone who knew something and had overheard that name. Instead, he sat on the table, so close to her he could smell the sweet, flowery scent of her shampoo. He resisted the urge to sniff and try to place the brand or the flower. He leaned over and got in her face, feeling horrible when she sucked in her breath and clenched her teeth. “Just tell me everything you know.”

Liza smiled like she knew he was enjoying the smell of her. She leaned back in the chair and started to talk, her expression growing serious. As she told him about her dreams, she kept her eyes locked on his and, when the tears started down her cheeks, he wanted to pull her into his lap and stroke her hair and tell her it was just a dream. Thinking of her in his lap awoke other urges, but he pushed those aside and focused on what she was telling him.

“The strange thing is that the death in the second dream was different than the first, but I’ve never dreamed about the death of someone I haven’t touched. I’ve never had a recurring dream about a death before, and this felt real. She was so young… she didn’t want to die. If there’s anything I can do that might help to find her killer…” She shuddered and Sloane wanted nothing more than to take her out of there and make sure she never had to have a dream like that again. It was his fault she was there and it didn’t matter if she was innocent if she had fae blood.

He’d seen it happen before. Two or three times over the past ten years, he’d brought in fae for questioning, innocent fae who’d just happened to have unique abilities or blood, and they’d been sent away and never seen again. The first time it happened, he’d still believed in his government and he’d wanted so badly to impress his boss that he’d been proud when he dragged in a witness to a murder. The man, younger than Sloane, hadn’t wanted to talk, but Sloane had gained his trust and had made him promises of safety, promises Sloane believed he could keep. That had been back before mandatory blood testing and registration, back when the agency was new and just figuring out how to handle the fae. The only reason Sloane had been on the case was because it had looked like the victim had been fried and the powers that be thought some sort of magic was at play.

In the interrogation room, where the fae glamour didn’t work, his boss saw the bumps on the witness’ skin and the slight tinge of green, and she’d ordered his blood tested. Sloane hadn’t known what that would mean for his witness. Even when they sent the man to West Virginia on an all-expenses paid vacation to keep him safe from retaliation by the murderer, Sloane had been so proud of himself. He’d believed he’d solved a case and saved the witness. It wasn’t until six months after that man disappeared that Sloane had discovered there’d been no murder at all. The victim had been accidentally electrocuted.

Three years after that, he brought in a respected business man who’d been accused of embezzling. There’d been no real reason for them, the supernatural protection agency, or SPA, to be involved, but his boss had told him that local law enforcement needed assistance. By that time, Sloane had begun to suspect he’d never get the promotion he dreamed of and he’d seen enough to know that the government rarely took the side of the fae. Still, he’d believed that the ultimate goal of SPA was to help the fae and he could be proud of that. So he brought the business man in, giving SPA an excuse to test his blood. Sloane had found him innocent of the crime he’d been accused of, but he’d been sent to West Virginia anyway. When Sloane questioned it, his boss explained that the business man had harpy blood and was believed to be dangerous. He was sent to the testing facility in West Virginia to determine just how dangerous. Sloane had heard of the testing facility, but he’d believed it was more of a forensics lab for fae, where deceased fae were studied and murders were solved.

After the business man was sent away, Sloane started to ask questions. Not many people knew about the research facility in West Virginia, and Sloane didn’t have many friends at SPA. Most of Sloane’s co-workers had more fae blood than him and worked there because they had no other options, not because they believed in the government. By that time, though, Fulsom was Sloane’s partner and Fulsom was very good at getting answers. They learned that West Virginia was a huge facility that researched and studied the fae to discover just how big a threat they might be to humans. Sloane also found out that the kid he’d sent there on a vacation, for his protection, had died there during an unnecessarily invasive test. On public record, his death was listed as a car accident, but Sloane discovered the truth using his clearance codes and Fulsom’s charm.

That was really the beginning of the end for Sloane. He understood, for the first time, just how expendable the US government felt the fae were. When he brought in a single mother who’d killed a man with her bare hands after he’d broken into her home, Sloane knew what would happen to her. He did everything he could to keep her out of West Virginia. Fulsom switched her blood samples and Sloane went easy on her in the interrogation, but it hadn’t made any difference in the end. The woman was sent to West Virginia and her children were placed in foster care. He checked up on her kids when he could and made sure they were placed with a good family, but they’d been registered as potentially dangerous fae, and there was only so much he could do. He started to truly hate his government and his job that day.

He should have known better with Liza, and it was his job to get her out of it if he could. In order to do that, he couldn’t let anyone who might be watching, through the glass or the cameras, know he believed her story. It was better to let them think she was involved with someone who knew about the missing mermaid, then to let them find out she was fae.

“And you expect me to believe that you never heard the name Louella somewhere else? That you dreamed of a woman you’d never met?” Sloane stood and slammed his hands down on the table. Liza jumped at the sudden sound, and glared at him, but there was heat even in her glare and he liked it so much he almost smiled. Instead, he glared right back at her, got in her face, so that the cameras couldn’t see his own and he mouthed the words, Lie to me. Liza looked confused for only a moment and then her face cleared, but she didn’t stop glaring.

“I agree, it doesn’t make sense. I never have more than one dream about a death, and–”

Sloane shook his head so slightly that it would be barely perceptible to the cameras, but Liza caught it.

She paused for the briefest moment before continuing her story. “I mean, I’ve never been able to prove that my dreams about death were real, they just feel so real.” She waited until Sloane gave her a tiny nod. “It might have just been a nightmare caused by seeing that poor woman on the beach and the name…” she tapped her chin. “I wait tables and there was someone, someone was talking about a woman named Louella who’d died in a car accident last summer. I’d completely forgotten about that until you intimidated it out of me.” She smirked at Sloane, teasing him. He growled at her in a tone so low the camera mikes wouldn’t catch it. Liza’s breath hitched at the sound and a smile tickled the corners of her mouth for just a moment, before she returned to glaring. “The nightmare was just so vivid, and I wanted to help that poor woman on the beach. I was wrong. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

“That’s funny,” Sloane said, his voice gruff and as angry as he could make it. Even though anger was the last thing he felt facing down that woman. “There’s a woman missing right now and her name is Louella. She vanished from the same costume party as the dead woman on the beach. You expect me to believe it’s just a coincidence that you knew her name.”

Liza’s eyes widened at that information. But a knock stopped the interrogation. Sloane straightened and went to the door, hoping his attraction to Liza wasn’t as physically evident as he suspected it was. On the other side of the door was a familiar woman, a biologist who studied the fae and worked in the same building. Sloane couldn’t remember her name, and he couldn’t be bothered to smile at her. He knew what she was there for. He threw one last glance over his shoulder at Liza, before walking out and letting the biologist in behind him.

He went back to the viewing room where Fulsom was pressed against the glass. “That was… weird,” Fulsom said. “Did you just–”

“The blood sample,” Sloane hissed at him, not wanting a lecture on how badly he’d screwed up the interview. “Can you do something about that?”

“I’ll try,” Fulsom said. He’d had a thing with one of the lab techs, in the days when he was still single, and might be able to pull some strings. He’d done it before but never at Sloane’s request. “You like her.”

Sloane didn’t respond. He watched Liza’s face twist with suspicion as the biologist explained why she needed a blood sample. Sloane had no doubt she’d convince Liza that blood was found at the crime scene and she needed to rule out the possibility that it belonged to Liza. If his bosses found out what Liza could do, they’d put her to work touching bodies for them as often as they could, and Liza would have those terrible nightmares every night. She seemed so compassionate, to have felt so deeply for those women and he couldn’t imagine such a job would be anything but the worst torture. And that was probably the good scenario for her, the bad would be that they’d send her to West Virginia.

Fulsom disappeared as soon as the biologist finished taking the blood sample. Sloane watched Liza, who was again staring at the mirror, and debated his next move. He pushed aside his wants and thought about what he would do if she was a regular suspect. He knew he would wait for Fulsom to return and play nice cop, so that’s what he did. He had to act as normal as possible, so his boss had no reason to suspect they switched the blood samples. He stood and stared back at Liza staring at him. He must have gotten lost in her eyes, because a tap on his shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin. “No luck, buddy,” Fulsom said, appearing much happier than he should.

“You couldn’t swap the sample?”

“They took it straight back and started testing it. They are very interested in this one.”

“Shit. Got any other ideas?”

“Why do you care?”

Sloane lowered his voice and leaned close to his partner. “What would you say to this job offer, Fulsom? Every day you touch a dead body and every night, when you close your eyes, you re-live their death.”

Fulsom shuddered and looked at Liza. “I’d say hell no, but I’m not the one being offered the job. So I ask again, why do you care? I mean she’s hot, but–”

“She feels it, Fulsom. She really cares. Do you want to watch that get burnt out of her?”

Fulsom was still staring at Liza. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. We’ll figure something out. I’ll go talk to her, but you know I might not have much time.”

“Try to make it clear to her not to sign anything.”

Fulsom nodded and left him.

CHAPTER NINE

*LIZA*

Liza knew he was on the other side of the glass, she could feel his gaze heavy on her. At least she imagined she could and she kind of liked it. He’d come in there all blustery, trying to play the tough guy and all she could think about was how good he looked. He walked in the room and it felt like she’d woken up from a long sleep, and all she wanted to do was touch him and hear his voice and wrap herself around him.

There was a knock at the door and she straightened up, her body warming in all the right places before he’d even set foot in the room. She knew she should be worried or scared. He’d pretty much told her she was a suspect in a murder, but when he’d been in the room, she’d felt safe for no reason she could explain.

Instead of Rice, though, it was Fulsom who walked in and sat down across from her. Liza slumped in her seat and all the parts of her that had warmed at the thought of Rice set up their own little pity parties. “Where’s Agent Rice?” Liza asked.

“That asshole?” Fulsom sneered. “He’s in a foul mood today. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable talking to me?”

“I’d rather talk to him. I like him better than you.”

Liza had expected Fulsom to get angry and she sort of wanted him to, because than maybe he’d send Rice back in. Not just because Rice was easy on the eyes, but because her gut insisted she could trust him, and she always listened to her gut. Her gut was less certain about Fulsom. “What have I done that’s so wrong?” he asked, with a grin.

“You asked me out when I was trying to talk to you about my dreams. You didn’t take me seriously at all.”

“You’d have been better off if no one had taken you seriously,” Fulsom muttered, without moving his mouth.

When Rice had told her to lie, Liza had figured he thought she was sounding like a crazy person and he was trying to protect her, but Fulsom’s words scared her. If both Rice and Fulsom were trying to protect her, there was something else going on. Something she didn’t want to even know about. Liza sighed. “Are you just going to stare at me all day, or are you going to ask me some questions?”

Fulsom grabbed Liza’s hand. She tried to pull away, but he was strong and his grip was firm. She couldn’t budge. “Where did you hear the name Louella?”

Liza started to answer, but then she heard Fulsom speak again, his voice low, his lips barely moving, “Don’t sign anything.” Liza just stared at Fulsom, hoping for more information. He tossed her hand away. “Hello, Earth to Liza. Where did you hear the name Louella?”

The door opened without a knock and a man and a woman in business suits stepped into the room. “We’ll take it from here, Agent Fulsom.”

They waited until Fulsom had left, then they sat, placing large briefcases on the table and snapping them open. “Miss Simmons, I am Agent Reynolds and this is my assistant Ernest Gardner. It has come to our attention,” Reynolds said. “That you have more than fifty percent fae blood in your veins and you have failed to register as a fae citizen. Could you explain why that is?” The woman had thick brown hair that fell in perfect waves, a professionally made-up face, and manicured nails. Liza was pretty sure her suit cost more than Liza’s monthly rent. She was giving Liza the stink eye, intending to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. Liza had attended one of the most prestigious private high schools and she had dealt with girls like Reynolds on a daily basis. Appearance could be bought, and Liza had learned a long time ago that a shiny veneer could hide all kinds of weaknesses. It was just a matter of finding out what Reynolds’ were.

“I have never heard the word fae before,” Liza lied, in her haughtiest tone. “I feel that I am being falsely accused, and I would like my lawyer to be brought in immediately.”

Reynolds smiled. “I’m afraid the phone lines are down, but if you’d like to wait, they say they’ll have them online again within the next twenty-four hours.”

Liza laughed and Reynolds flinched. “I called my lawyer before I was brought down here. If you pick your prissy ass up and walk down the hall to the main entrance, you will find him waiting.” Liza crossed her fingers under the table that Ellison had made it there. She felt like she’d been in that room for days, but they’d taken her phone and she didn’t wear a watch, so she couldn’t be sure.

Reynolds stiffened a bit, then glared at Gardner. He leapt to his feet and scurried out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

“That’s an adorable tank-top,” the woman said, baring her teeth. “It looks like an Obrig. Where ever did you find it?”

When the government ended all manufacturing for non-essential items, clothes were made by hand, and the more skilled the seamstress, the more expensive and high-demand the article of clothing. Anita Obrig was one of the best tailors in the state. The silk tank-top Liza wore had been a gift from her aunt who had a lucrative job as an environmental enforcer, and was made by Abigail Denere another good tailor, but Liza didn’t think Miss Priss needed to know that. “I got it from the recycling station down the street. Five bucks on clearance. I was thrilled.”

Miss Priss sneered at her and Liza got a little lift from thinking of her as Miss Priss instead of Reynolds. They stared down until Gardner, or Mr. Scuttles, returned from the lobby with Ellison, who smiled and winked at Liza like everything was okay. Liza knew Ellison well enough to be able to tell that his cheer was manufactured.

Miss Priss’s eyes widened. “A human?” she asked, making the word sound crass.

Mr. Scuttles cleared his throat and said, in a squeaky voice, “The gentleman is familiar with Fae law and has taken a class in it. He has the appropriate clearance.”

Ellison pulled files from his briefcase, but he looked perfectly calm. “I’m sorry, but what’s going on here? Aren’t we all human?”

Miss Priss sniffed. “As I have explained, Miss Simmons is fae. The fae are not typically represented by humans. In fact, it is a violation of our bylaws to speak to a human about the fae or to reveal their existence to a human.”

Liza was pretty sure the fae they were talking about were the people who had tails and horns. “Wait, the fae are a secret? Seriously? You’ve got mermaids swimming in the ocean and washing up on the beach and you think their existence is a secret?”

Miss Priss didn’t deign to look at Liza and Scuttles’ cheeks were getting redder by the moment.

Ellison looked at the three of them, his eyes lingering a bit on Miss Priss, before he cleared his throat. “I had to achieve a level five security clearance to be permitted to take the class, Liza. The government considers anyone who speaks of the fae to humans without clearance to be a traitor.”

Liza looked at him, her eyes widening. “You think it’s a secret?”

Miss Priss almost rolled her eyes, but managed to avoid such an undignified expression. “Most humans don’t know about the fae because they don’t want to know. It is an easier secret to keep than you would expect.”

She wondered what they would think of Arty speaking so openly about what he was, but she let it go. “Okay, so these fae are a big government secret, but you say I’m one of them, so why don’t–”

“Don’t say another word, Liza,” Ellison said, all business now.

“Do you know what they’re talking about? Because unless you do, I’m not shutting up. I want to know what a fae is and why they think I’m one.”

“I was going to get to that,” Ellison said, through gritted teeth, his glare telling her to shut the hell up.

She shut the hell up.

Two hours later, after a lot of legalese and bargaining, she left the building with Ellison. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?” she asked as they walked back to the apartment. The sun was high in the sky, signaling midday and her tummy was rumbling, signaling lunch time.

He sighed. “You’re in deep shit, Liza, but it’s as much my fault as yours. When we figured out you could dream like that I should have warned you. I just never thought… and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone… But I should have warned you. I’m sorry.”

“So tell me now.”

“I’ll tell you over lunch.”

She groaned and walked back to the apartment in silence, stomping her feet like a toddler. Once inside, she huffed and made herself a sandwich, slamming cabinet doors and flinging condiments, while Beauty yapped and bounced around her feet. Beauty was always happy to see her, even when she was angry. She knew she was overreacting, but she didn’t care. It was either act like a child or scream and pull her hair. She had to release the tension and frustration of the day somehow. Finally, she and Ellison sat down at the table with food. She dug in and motioned for him to start talking before she sat on him and began the tickle torture she knew would get him to talk.

He sighed and put down his sandwich without a bite. “The fae are another species, Liza. They lived in a land on another plane of reality. They have some complex name for it I can’t pronounce, but we humans call it Fairyland.”

Liza knew she was looking at him, her eyes wide and bugging out of her head, like she thought he was crazy. She knew she shouldn’t be looking at him that way. After all, she’d been talking to a guy with horns and hooves just last night, but she couldn’t help feeling that her best friend and roommate might have lost his mind.

Ellison, of course, knew exactly what she was thinking. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to tell you why I won’t be seeing Marcy again.”

She swallowed hard and tried to return her eyes to their normal size and position, which was not as easy as one might think. She’d get them back to normal and then she’d think Fairy fucking land and they’d pop back out again. Ellison took her discomfort as an opportunity to stuff a few bites into his mouth.

“Okay,” she said, finally. “I’m good, continue.”

Ellison cleared his throat dramatically. “As I was saying, the fae mostly lived in Fairyland and those that lived here were the sort who weren’t welcome in their own land for one reason or another. Then the climate changed, people died, new diseases sprung up–”

“I’ve taken history class, El. Can you skip ahead to me being one of these people?”

Ellison glared at her and took another bite of his sandwich.

She sighed. He could be such a baby. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry I interrupted. Please continue your history lesson. I’m fascinated.”

Ellison took his time finishing his sandwich and then took a long, long drink of water. “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the fae in Fairyland were hit especially hard by the changing climate of the planet. Their land experienced drought like it never had before on one end and an ice age to conquer all ice ages on the other. Everything went wackadoo screwy and, on top of all that, the fae got sick with a new disease that affected them all no matter what species of fae they were. The ones who could flee Fairy did and, in their desperation, they came to our government, or the government of whatever country they happened to be closest to, for help.”

Ellison looked at her like he was expecting her to make a snide comment, but she restrained herself.

“Our government helped them, at least one government of another country killed them on sight, and no one knows what happened to the fae in other countries. Here they were allowed to immigrate and our scientists developed medicines that cured them of the disease. The powers that be felt humans had enough on our plates, what with the oceans rising and the climate changing, so they decided to keep the fae a secret. The fae can use magic to look like regular humans, if they don’t already, so it wasn’t such a hard secret to keep.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” she couldn’t help saying. Ellison shot her another glare, but she shrugged it off.

“Fairyland is no longer habitable for the large majority of the fae, and many of them have made lives for themselves here, marrying humans and settling down. Our government is a bit nervous about the fae, considering some of them are quite powerful and scary. Not to mention that the human populace might get a little ticked off if they learned their government kept the existence of fae hidden.”

“And I am one of these fae?”

“They claim you have banshee blood.”

“What’s a banshee?”

“I don’t actually know a whole lot about them. They can supposedly see when someone is going to die and they obviously dream about death if they touch a corpse.”

“A banshee?” she said again. “Is there someone I can talk to who can explain what I am? Can I look it up on the internet?”

Ellison looked nervous for the first time. “Well, you have fifty percent fae blood in your system, so–”

“No.” She gasped. “Holy shit.” She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and started dialing.

“Sweetie, I really think we ought to discuss the ramifications of this, before–”

“Ooooh,” she said, her voice a growl. “Don’t sweetie me, you asshole. You knew didn’t you?”

“Liza, I–”

“I told you what I could do. You met my mother. You fucking knew and you didn’t—” The phone was still ringing, why wasn’t anyone picking up?

“No, Liza, it’s not normal for a mom to mention to her daughter’s boyfriend that masturbation can be dangerous if you have a heart problem, but I kind of thought you’d figure that out on your own. I was the one sweating bricks and getting my heart checked out. Not to mention how it feels to know how I’m going to die someday. I should have turned her in to be registered, but I didn’t. Really, if anyone should be angry here–”

“Hello,” Liza’s mother said, her voice gaspy like she’d run to get the phone. It must have rung ninety times. Whose phone did that? Maybe if she called home more than once every six months she’d know those things.

“Mom, I’ve just had a very interesting interrogation by some lovely government officials who seem to think I am a fucking banshee. Care to explain.”

The silence on the other end stretched out like a living thing. She could almost see her mom’s facial expressions change as she considered the best way to handle Liza. She’d always been one of those daughters. The kind parents feel they need to handle.

“Now, dear–”

“Does Becky know about this?”

“Now, Liza, Becky’s only sixteen.”

“I know how old my fucking sister is, Mom.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Are you a banshee? Because I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure some government officials are going to be knocking on your door to find out why you aren’t registered.”

Her mom gasped and Liza felt a bit gratified to have finally broken through her calm reserve. “What did you tell them?”

“I didn’t tell them anything, Mom. They took my blood and found out I’m 50% banshee, so it seems logical they would assume one of my parents is 100% banshee. If you had ever told me any of this, I might have known not to let them take my fucking blood.”

“You let them take your blood? Now that wasn’t very well thought out was it?”

She banged her head on the table and growled.

“Calm down, Liza. It will all be fine, but I think maybe your father, Becky, and I should head out of town. We’ll call you as soon as we can.” And just like that, her mother was gone.

She stared at the phone in her hand. “She hung up on me. She tried to twist this all around to be my fault, then she hung up on me.”

She looked at Ellison and found him watching her with pity in his eyes. “Sweetie, you’ve known her how long? Did you really expect anything else?” She just stared at him. She wanted to be angry with him, because she couldn’t yell at her mother, but she knew he was right. She was the idiot for thinking her mother would apologize or offer to tell her everything she knew about being a banshee. Her mother wasn’t a bad mom, she just didn’t waste a lot of thought on other people, unless they were her husband, the love of her life, the only person she really saw.

“How bad is this?” she asked.

Ellison stood, took her hand and led her to the couch. They sat down together, and he didn’t let go. “You’re on their radar now. They won’t arrest you. I convinced them you didn’t know you were fae, and I’m pretty sure they were just trying to scare you with that shit anyway. But they will register you, and they’ll be watching you. There are different laws for the fae, and you’ll have to learn those and follow them.”

She nodded. “Tell me the worst.”

“They have the power here, Liza. The government, rightly or wrongly, fears the fae and hasn’t allowed them many rights. If they want you to work for them, you will have to work for them, and…” Ellison let his hands drop into his lap.

“Spit it out, Ellison.” Her heart was starting to break already. She knew it would be bad.

“The fae aren’t allowed to obtain higher level degrees. You’ll have to drop out of school.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a law that some fae are trying to fight, but they aren’t making much headway. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because the government feels the fae have enough power. They’re afraid of a future where the fae are running the biggest companies and making decisions that affect humans.”

“But that’s not fair, that’s not…” Everything she’d been working so hard for gone, just like that. She would cry if she were capable of doing anything but listen as her heart cracked and shattered. “What will I do, Ellison? If I can’t… All I’ve ever wanted is to be a Marine Biologist, to live on the ocean.”

“I know, sweetie, and maybe someday you’ll be able to, but right now you’re going to have to find a new dream.”

“What about the degrees I already have? Can I use those?”

Ellison looked away and she knew the answer before he spoke. “I’ll look into it, anything’s possible right?”

At a complete loss, and with more questions than Ellison could ever answer, she fell back into old habits. She pulled out her cell phone to see the time. “Can I still wait tables?”

Ellison nodded. She stood and went to her room to get dressed for work, but she turned before she reached the doorway. “Wait, you need to tell me what’s going on with Marcy. Come talk while I change.”

“I don’t really think now’s the–”

“Get in here and start talking, or I’m going to tell Marcy you’re desperately in love with her, but need her to make the first seven moves.”

He groaned, but followed her into her room and sat on her bed.

“Talk. Marcy thinks she was bad in bed.”

His expression shifted from disbelief to reverence, and she paused to watch before she pulled her shirt over her head. “No. God, Liza, she was… She was amazing. And she’s so much fun and she just gets me, you know.”

“Oh, my god. You are in love with her, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m not in love with her. I’m just really attracted to her and every time I see her, I want to get her alone so I can take her clothes off and do things to her… I’ve turned into a complete pig.”

She stopped what she was doing, stood there in her bra, and just stared at him. “Do you have any idea what I would give to hear a guy say that about me? What’s the problem?”

“Isn’t it disrespectful? I mean, she deserves more than that. She’s brilliant and funny and so, so sweet. I should be able to have a conversation with her and not want to rip her clothes off.”

“What about after?”

“After what?”

“After you rip her clothes off, could you have a conversation with her then?”

He dropped his head in his hands and groaned. When he looked up at Liza, his face was beet red. “I just want to do it again. I just can’t get enough of her.”

She sunk down on the bed next to him. “That is so hot, El. I kind of wish I was Marcy right now, and I don’t even like you very much.”

“What? Are you some kind of perv? There’s something wrong with this.”

He looked so worried, that she had to smother a laugh. “Can I ask you something, El? All these other women you’ve been so crazy about, have you felt this way about them? I mean the sex with us was good. What’s different with Marcy?”

“I was comfortable with you, Li, and those other women. I’m never comfortable with Marcy. I feel like my skin, my brain, everything’s electric and nothing will be okay until I touch her and taste her and–”

She put her hand up to stop him before she heard more than she wanted to. “And where did you get the idea that’s a bad thing?”

“Li, I’m looking for the woman I can settle down with, have children with. What would I do if I had kids with Marcy? I’d probably let them starve to death just so I could have sex with her all day.”

She did laugh then. She laughed so hard she fell off the bed. Ellison might have pushed her off the bed, but she was laughing too hard to be sure.

“Fuck you, Liza. This isn’t funny.”

She tried to catch her breath and stop laughing, but she just couldn’t get past the ridiculous idea of Ellison believing he would neglect his own children. The one thing she knew best about Ellison was he took care of those he loved. Which was probably part of the problem. He was already in love with Marcy, whether he realized it or not, and he felt he ought to care for her. Somehow for him, having sex with her wasn’t taking care of her.

She noticed his eyes were glassy with tears and she leapt up and wrapped her arms around him. “El, where are you getting these crazy ideas, honey? Because trust me when I say, they are crazy ideas.”

He cleared his throat. “My dad loved my mother, I know he did, but I never saw them touch or hug. He told me that the woman I married, the woman who had my children should be the woman I respect above all others and to think of her in an overly sexual way was wrong.”

She’d had the unfortunate privilege of meeting Ellison’s father, a close-minded, uptight man who thought the best place for a woman was at home and sneered at Liza’s dream of a career. She was sure his father had put his advice about marriage in crasser terms than Ellison had and she shuddered at the thought. She knew Ellison disagreed with his father on pretty much everything, but for some reason this advice had stuck with him. Probably because his mother was a saint, if for nothing else than putting up with his father. Liza was going to be late for work, but helping Ellison was more important.

“Your dad was wrong. Every woman wants to be wanted for her mind, her heart, and her body. If I heard any man say about me the things you said about Marcy, unless he was some sort of weirdo stalker with chronic bad breath and–”

“Liza, please.”

“Right, sorry. I would be thrilled if I heard anyone say those things about me. Honestly, Ellison, if you had said those things about me, I’d actually consider giving us another shot. The fact that you want Marcy so fiercely is a good thing, and it will probably fade and calm down after a while. Take a long weekend and spend it in bed with her until your big brain starts working again. And, when you have children, you’ll love them and take care of them, and you’ll still love her and take care of her, because that’s the kind of man you are. You take care of the people you love. So call her right now, or I’ll call her for you.”

“I don’t know, Li. It just doesn’t seem–”

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll call her.” She was already running as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She skidded into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door, nearly catching Ellison’s fingers.

He banged on the door and yelled, but she ignored him. He’d thank her for it later. Marcy picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Marcy, it’s Li.”

Marcy sniffed and Liza’s good mood drooped a bit. “Did you talk to Ellison?”

“Yeah. He’s got some major issues, but he’s crazy about you. You still want him?”

“But why hasn’t he called? Why’s he been avoiding me?”

Now, Liza was in a bit of a bind. She probably shouldn’t reveal a confidence from a best friend, but Marcy was also a dear friend and the best one to relieve Ellison’s guilty feelings. “Here’s the thing. He’s got some antiquated idea that the woman he gets serious about should not be one he wants to ravage non-stop for the next three or four days.”

“What?”

“He’s too physically attracted to you, and he thinks it’s disrespectful.”

“What did he say exactly?” So Liza told her exactly what he said and she was pretty sure Marcy had an orgasm right there. What girl wouldn’t?

“He’s also crazy about your brain and your heart and everything, of course.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcy said, clearly not listening.

“Do you think you could come over and disabuse him of these ridiculous ideas? I’m worried he’s going to check himself into the looney bin if you don’t–”

“Liza, just stop. You’re killing me here!” Ellison yelled through the door for the fifteenth or sixteenth time.

“I’m already walking, Li. I can see your building.”

“Great, my work here is done. I’ll be at work so feel free to make as much noise as you want.”

Liza hung up and walked out to face her seething, red-faced, but still adorable, roommate. “She’s on her way to show you exactly how okay she is with the way you feel about her.”

She tried to push past him, but he blocked her. “Liza, you’re supposed to be on my side. You can’t just go telling people what I tell you in confidence. How can I ever trust you, if–?”

A knock at the door stopped him, and all the color drained from his face.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’ll be Marcy. Just try not to propose to her tonight, it might scare her away.”

“Fuck you, Li,” Ellison said, but there was no force behind his words. He sucked in a breath and went to the door. Marcy leapt on him, wrapped her legs around his waist and started sucking his face. Liza watched just long enough to make sure Ellison wouldn’t try to fight her off, before she went to her room and changed for work.

CHAPTER TEN

*SLOANE*

Sloane took a table at the restaurant where Liza worked and looked around for her. He’d asked to be seated in her section and he hoped he wouldn’t seem like a creepy stalker. He didn’t trust cell phones and showing up at her door seemed even creepier, so he’d opted for a public place where she could tell him to get lost if she wanted to. He knew he shouldn’t be there. He could get fired for what he was about to do, but he was surprised to find that he didn’t really care too much about the possibility of losing a job he hated more every day. She needed to know what she was getting into and he was the best person to help her with that. The idea of seeing her face and hearing her voice again had nothing to do with his decision.

He ordered crab cakes from a waitress who wasn’t Liza and asked her if she knew Liza and if she could send her over to talk to him when she got in. The waitress, a rail-thin girl with a witch-like, pointy nose, sneered at him like she knew exactly what he wanted with Liza, but promised to pass on the message. She wasn’t about to ruin her tip by denying him, seemingly oblivious to the insult her expression caused.

He was half-way through his crab cakes when he felt her eyes on him. He just knew that when he looked up, he’d find her staring at him. He lifted his head slowly, met her gaze, and was filled with a warmth that wasn’t just physical. He couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips. Liza glared at him and he forced himself to swallow the smile and present a professional demeanor. Get it together, asshole. The woman affected him in ways he couldn’t understand and wasn’t sure he should like as much as he did.

She started to turn away from him and his heart stuttered like she was rejecting him. He forgot all about professional demeanor and affected a bit of a pout, lacing his fingers together in front of his chest in the universal symbol for begging. She started toward him, an almost smile on her face, then stopped like she hadn’t realized what she was doing. It made him happy to know he had at least a tiny bit of the effect on her that she had on him. He made the peace sign with his fingers, and she shrugged and moved the rest of the way to him.

“Are you here to arrest me?”

“You were late. Everything okay?” He didn’t know why he needed to know so badly, but he did.

She smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her whole face and he was pretty sure he’d do anything to make her smile like that again. “I was just meddling in my roommate’s love life. He is now getting soundly fu…” She slapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes got big, and he knew that her smile had been for her roommate, as had her easy tone. Sloane was still firmly in enemy camp. Which was too bad, because he’d really wanted to hear her finish that sentence, maybe more than he wanted to finish the crab cakes on his plate. And the crab cakes were the best he’d ever had. “Are you here to arrest me again?”

“I didn’t arrest you before.” He’d worn jeans and a vintage t-shirt promoting some baseball team that no longer existed and he’d never heard of. Frankie had bought him the shirt, saying he needed more casual clothes, and he’d hoped it would put Liza at ease.

“Just here for the crab cakes? Why’d you tell Esther you wanted to talk to me?”

“If you’d give me a chance to finish a thought, I’d tell you that I want to help you.”

She took a step back, like he’d struck her and he knew he’d made a mistake. “Why would you want to help me? You don’t know me.”

“This isn’t really the best place to talk. Could we go somewhere?”

She grinned and he relaxed. “Oh, sure. Let me just go tell my boss I want the rest of the night off to go somewhere dark and secluded to talk to a government agent. I’ll be right back.”

She turned on her heel and he knew he’d lost her. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I owe you.”

She stopped but she didn’t face him again, so he continued. “When Fulsom told me you said Louella’s name I thought you might be involved and I… I screwed up. You wouldn’t even be on their radar if it weren’t for me.”

An older man, a satyr, stepped between him and Liza, and glared at him. “This guy causing you trouble, sugar?”

Liza shook her head, turned to face Sloane, and put an arm around the old guy’s shoulders. “No, he claims he’s trying to help me. Seems the government has figured out I’ve got fae blood.”

“Liza—” Sloane gave her a warning look with the stern use of her name, but Liza ignored both.

“Shit, sweetheart, that’s the worst news I’ve heard all week,” the old guy said. “If you need to hide, I can help you.”

Sloane cleared his throat. “Government agent here.”

The old guy narrowed his eyes at Sloane, but his expression wasn’t entirely unfriendly. “He’s a good-looking fellow, sweet child, but I could make him disappear if you want.”

Liza’s expression shifted, but she still appeared way too casual for Sloane’s taste. “No, no. He says he can help me.”

The old guy leaned in real close to Sloane and sniffed him. “Siren, eh?” He stood and his hand on Liza’s waist slid up her rib cage to rest right below her breast. Sloane was pretty sure the two weren’t dating since the man was old enough to be her grandfather, but he still felt an irrational urge to rip the guy’s hand off. Liza gently lowered the hand back to her waist and the old guy chuckled. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear what he has to say. The government’s already on to you, so you can’t get much deeper in the shit.”

Liza’s smile fell and the sadness on her face made Sloane’s chest ache. “They aren’t going to let me finish school.”

The old guy nodded. “I should have warned you…If I’d had any idea—”

“No, it’s not your fault.” She glared at Sloane, making it clear whose fault it was. “I get off at ten tonight. Meet me out front.” She looked at her friend. “You hear that Arty? If I disappear, you go after Agent Sloane Rice?”

Sloane took a card out of his wallet and handed it to the old guy. “I won’t hurt her.”

The old guy’s hand disappeared behind Liza and she jumped and squeaked. “I like him,” Arty said. “You should listen to what he has to say.”

The old guy went back to his table and Liza watched him go, looking a bit lost for the first time since Sloane had met her. She swallowed, squared her shoulders and looked at Sloane, her expression carefully guarded. “Just for the record, I don’t like you. But I’ll hear what you have to say.”

He stayed at his table until the restaurant closed, watching her work and laugh with the customers. She was wearing black jeans that left little to the imagination and he couldn’t take his eyes off her ass. The whole package was exquisite, trim and fit and tight, but that round, bubbly ass was the icing on the cake. He didn’t even look at her face, because her face, especially when she was smiling, was heart-stopping and made him hate himself that much more. Made him hate that he was the reason she was going to lose so much. Sloane tried to stop watching her, to look at her as someone who needed his help, but his body didn’t agree with his mind. His body wanted her and he knew the sooner he told her what he could and got far away from her, the better it would be for both of them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

*LIZA*

Liza stepped into the cool night air and saw Rice facing the ocean, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, the t-shirt molded to his sculpted back. She took just a moment to enjoy the view, the way the jeans hugged his ass so perfectly, the way his biceps stretched the short-sleeves of his t-shirt. For a few moments, she just drank him in, before she reminded herself she hated him because he had destroyed her life.

“A siren, huh?” she asked when she got close enough for him to hear. It wasn’t what she had planned to say, but this fae stuff was new to her and she was curious.

He didn’t jump at the sound of her voice, didn’t turn to look at her. “Twenty-five percent. It gives me an affinity to the ocean, but not a whole hell of a lot else. I didn’t even know about it until I got hired on with Homeland Security.”

Liza shivered as a sudden breeze blew off the water and raised goose bumps on her skin. Rice looked at her and even in the dim light from the moon and the restaurant lights, she could see the sorrow on his face. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I really am sorry,” he said.

He looked so sad, that Liza’s first instinct was to comfort him. Without considering what she was doing, she reached for his hand and squeezed. His skin was lightly callused and felt dry and warm, and she found herself taking comfort from the touch herself. She did her best to ignore the electric warmth that shot straight up her arm and through her body to comfort other places, the parts of her that didn’t give a damn who he was, and wanted to wrap themselves around him. He lifted their joined hands and looked at them, then looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You’re an asshole, but I’m a bleeding heart and a sucker for a sad face,” she said.

He nodded and held onto her like he didn’t ever want to let go. “Would you walk with me?” he asked. “There’s someone you should meet.”

She knew she shouldn’t. She’d gone out there to get answers and that’s what she should be demanding, but there was something to be said for not having all the answers, for living in ignorance a little longer, because she was sure whatever he had to say was going to be bad. She nodded, and they walked up the beach in silence, their hands clasped tight. Liza wasn’t the type to question things too much. If something felt right, she generally just jumped right in and let intuition and compassion lead the way. It was how she’d ended up with a dog and a cat in an apartment that didn’t allow pets. They’d been strays and they’d needed a home and she’d shared hers with them. Rice was an asshole who’d ruined her life, but she believed him when he said he was sorry. She’d gotten pretty good at reading people and she could tell that Rice was a stray in every sense of the word. He needed someone to love him and feed him and care for him. Not that she was volunteering for the job, but if she could give him a moment of comfort, she would.

The moon lighted their path up the beach, their footsteps sending fiddler crabs scurrying out of their way. Rice let Liza walk closest to the water on the hard-packed sand, but he paid attention to the waves without even seeming to and pulled her gently up the beach or down to keep her feet out of the water. She wouldn’t have minded getting her feet wet, but his vigilance charmed her and she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Before she was quite ready, they reached the brick and mortar remains of a building. The flat roof still stood tall against the water and extended out into it like a dock. Rice released her hand to leap up and then gave her his own to help her onto the roof. Once she was up, he didn’t let go of her, but guided her to the end and sat down, pulling her with him. He studied her in the moonlight, emotions flashing across his face too quickly for her to read. He reached out with his other hand and placed it on her cheek, cupping her face and leaning in. She knew he was going to kiss her and she panicked, because if he kissed her, she suspected she’d be lost and she wasn’t ready to lose herself to him.

“So who are we meeting on this rock in the dark?” she asked. Rice dropped his hand and disappointment flashed only briefly before he smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him smile and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. If he’d been gorgeous before, he was downright godlike when he smiled.

“A mermaid,” he said. “Her name is Mellita.” He leaned over and put a hand in the water, swirling a finger in the dark sea, until a small glow lit and shot out into the darkness. He released three more glows and then removed his hand from the water. “Now we wait.”

“Pretty neat trick.”

“There are some things you should know,” he said. “Louella, the mermaid you dreamed of, was not the woman whose body you saw that night on the beach.”

“So, you’re saying my second dream was just a nightmare?”

He shook his head and squeezed her hand tighter. “No, Louella is the name of a mermaid who went missing after her sister’s body was found.”

Liza felt suddenly cold. “No, that’s not right. I only dream of the dead… person I touch.”

“Have you ever touched a dead person before? You told Fulsom your experience was with animals.”

Her stomach churned. “So, now I’m going to dream of every one who was in contact with the dead woman?”

“Her name was Aria, and our scientists don’t think it’s likely that your ability extends that far. Mermaids have a bond that allows them to communicate telepathically, and their relationships are more intimate than those between humans. We believe you dreamed of Aria’s sister only because of their close connection.”

“When I touched Aria, it was the same as touching all of her sisters?”

Rice nodded. He opened his mouth to speak again, but a sleek dark head popped up from beneath the waves and snarled at them. Liza startled and tried to scuttle back across the rock, but Rice released her hand and wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders to keep her by his side. “Mel, relax–”

“Don’t tell me to relax. You bring a stranger here, a woman, without giving me any warning, and you want me to relax. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Rice actually tried to move Liza behind his back, but she’d caught on and no longer felt she needed his protection. “Men,” Liza said, disgust obvious in her tone. “He didn’t tell me you and he…” she motioned between him and the mermaid.

“We’re not,” Rice said, his teeth clenched, clearly uncomfortable. She scooted out from under his arm, and faced the other woman who was still hissing at her.

“He and I aren’t anything to each other, so please don’t get upset.”

“You’re a liar,” Mellita hissed. “I can sense how much he wants you. He has never wanted me that way.”

Liza looked between the two, trying to figure out what was going on.

“She’s here to help with Louella, Mel,” Rice said, his voice calm. “She’s a banshee and she’s dreamed of Aria’s death and, possibly, Louella’s.”

Mel slumped, though she still glared at Liza. “She’s dead then?”

“I don’t know,” Liza said. “She was electrocuted by a man with some sort of stun gun and she passed out. I don’t know if she’s dead.” But she’d never dreamed about someone who was just injured. Liza couldn’t bear to tell her that.

“By a man?” Mel made the word man sound like a swear word. “And Aria? Was she also killed by a man?”

“Yes. A man in a scuba suit, with vivid blue eyes.”

“No man should be able to resist our charms to do us harm,” Mel said, her focus turning to Rice. “He had to have known what we are, what we can do, and to have…” she looked at Liza and stopped.

“Yes,” Rice said. “There’s more, Mel. Louella saw something. A drill in the water. She was drawn in by the sound of it. Fulsom and I are going to look into it, but you should tell your sisters to stay out of that part of the ocean.”

“That part of the ocean belongs to us,” Mel said, her eyes blazing in the dark.

“Yes, it does, but please let me and Fulsom look into it before you do anything.”

“You have two days.” Mel turned to go back under the water, but Rice’s next words stopped her.

“The official word is still that Aria died of exposure and electric eel.”

“They don’t believe me?” Liza said at the same time Mel said, “Fucking humans.” Mel dove back down under the water without a splash and Liza found herself glaring at Rice.

“They don’t believe me?” she asked again.

Rice dropped her hand, and she knew what he was going to say next was going to piss her off. “They aren’t backing your story, but they want you to come work for them. I’m supposed to meet with you tomorrow and convince you to come in for an interview.”

She tried to process what he was saying. “What do they want me to do?”

“They want you to read dead bodies for them, Liza.” His face was pale in the moonlight and Liza’s stomach flipped. They wanted her to touch dead bodies with the intention of dreaming their deaths? They wanted her to experience death in her dreams every night? She leaned over the side of the rock and vomited into the sea. Her tears fell with the contents of her stomach and she started to shake.

Rice was there next to her, holding her hair and rubbing her back and she was so grateful for his touch, even as she knew she should be furious with him. Once she’d wiped her face, she sat up. “I can’t… I can’t do that. Please tell me there’s a way out of this?”

He started to reach for her, but he stopped himself as though he knew he didn’t have the right. She wished he had made the move, she needed comfort and, after meeting Mel, she couldn’t even be angry at him for bringing her there. She understood his desire to help the mermaids. She didn’t reach for him either, though, because she knew if she forgave him too easily it would set a precedent of Liza as doormat. “They’re going to test you, first,” he said. “Officially, they don’t believe your dreams, but you’re the first banshee they’ve had and they won’t let you go. They’ll have you touch other dead bodies and see what you dream.” His gaze dropped to his empty hands. “They’ll do whatever they can to keep you there. You’re young and you’re strong. They’ll want find out everything they can about banshees.”

“I’ll be a fucking guinea pig?”

“You could run,” he said, like he already knew what she’d say to that.

She considered it for a minute, but she didn’t have any money or any idea of where to go. “You got some sort of witness protection? New identity for me?”

Rice looked miserable. “No. I’ve avoided making the kind of connections that would be able to help you.”

“Fulsom?”

He shook his head.

Liza felt impotent and lost and furious about it all. “You said you were here to help me, but all you’ve done is bring me out here to tell a mermaid an unofficial version of my dreams. How exactly were you planning to help? Or did you just want me to talk to your mermaid?”

“I have an idea.” He was so calm she wanted to punch him in the nose. “If you’d sit back down and listen, I’ll explain it to you.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.” She didn’t want to sit back down and be swayed by those stormy grey eyes or the concern she heard in his voice.

“I think you should lie,” he said, looking out at the ocean and not up at her. It annoyed her that he wouldn’t look at her, like maybe he wasn’t telling the truth. “Touch the bodies and pretend to cooperate, but lie about what you dream. They’re already skeptical, since they don’t believe your mermaid dreams, so they should be easy to put off.”

“Why do you believe?” She sat back down next to him, her feet sore from waiting tables, but she didn’t look at him.

“What?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse, like he’d just woken up. She could feel his gaze hot on the side of her face, but she ignored it. She looked out at the dark ocean, glimmering and shifting in the moonlight. The smell of the salt stronger here and the sound of the waves crashing behind them, almost obscuring their lowered voices.

“Your bosses don’t believe in my dreams, but you do. Why?”

“You said you’ve tested your dreams before.”

“Your bosses know that, right? It didn’t make them believe.”

“No.” He stared out at the ocean again and she almost screamed in frustration. What was with this guy that he couldn’t answer a simple question?

“So. Why. Do. You?”

He started to stand. “Maybe I was wrong to bring you out here.”

“Sit back down.” She waited until he did what she asked. “I’ll stop asking why you believe in me and just accept it, if you don’t walk away from this conversation. I fucking hate it when people do that. If you don’t want to tell me something, just say you don’t want to tell me something, and we’ll move on.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I don’t have an answer. I’m a rational person first, I don’t believe in going with instinct, and rationally I shouldn’t have told Mellita what you’d dreamed, but I just felt I had to. Just like I feel that your dreams are real.”

“Okay, thank you. Now, I’ll do what you say and I’ll lie about my dreams, because I agree that I don’t want to be touching dead bodies every day. I’m a gut girl, Rice. I believe intuition outweighs logic 99.9% of the time and my gut is telling me to trust you.” Other parts of her were telling her to jump on his lap and kiss him silly, but she had learned long ago not to let those parts lead her decisions. “But, even if I convince them my dreams are shit, they’re still going to want to study me, right? What does that mean for me?”

Rice was back to looking out at the ocean and his shoulders tensed. “I’m hoping you can convince them you’d make a good agent.”

“A good agent?” Never in her life had Liza had any desire to be a spy or a superhero, much less a government agent. If she had any fault, it was that she was too honest and too compassionate, not the best traits for that line of work. “I really don’t think–”

“The people I work for are good people,” Rice said, but his tone suggested he didn’t entirely believe it and Liza shivered. “But they fear what they don’t know. In the past, when they’ve found fae they can’t explain, they’ve sent them to a testing facility in West Virginia. I’ve heard that the compensation for that move is excellent, but I don’t think—”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long do they have to stay up there? How long does the testing last?”

He rubbed his face. “No one knows. No one’s ever seen them again.”

Her chest tightened and she thought she might cry. She never cried, at least not in front of strangers. “Shit. They’re going to kill me.”

She’d expected him to deny it, or to laugh at her, or to tell her this whole night was a huge practical joke, but the look in his eyes reflected the fear she felt. She wanted to run, to scream, to escape from the horrible nightmare her life had become. She looked at him, so safe in his job and in his world, and she realized how easy it would be to blame him, to focus her anger on him and to stop feeling this horrible fear and loss. She shoved him as hard as she could and he slipped off the roof and into the water with a loud splash.

CHAPTER TWELVE

*SLOANE*

Sloane’s shock at being submerged in the water didn’t last long. Once he’d accepted that he was no longer on the roof and how he’d gotten in the sea, he found the dark water comforting. The silence allowed him to think clearly and figure out how to convince Liza to go along with his plan without making her think his bosses were evil. Being so near her did bad things to his brain and he had a hard time focusing on the conversation instead of how warm her hand felt in his or how much he wanted to keep touching her, to taste her.

Shouts from above interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see Liza leaning over the side of the roof, staring down at him. He supposed he’d been under water longer than normal for an air-breathing human. Still, he couldn’t help staring at her for a few moments, her skin glowing in the moonlight, concern for him etched on her face. He hated the idea of causing her pain, but he much preferred her caring enough to be worried he’d drowned to the rage he’d seen on her face before she’d pushed him off the rock. Or maybe she was just worried someone might arrest her for his death. Probably the latter. He pushed himself up out of the water and accepted her help back onto the roof. The roof was slick and she wasn’t strong enough to lift him bodily from the water, but she was stronger than he expected and he wasn’t sure he’d have made it back up there without her help.

“Thanks,” he said, when he was seated next to her. “I’m sorry.” He was sorry for so much that it didn’t make sense to try to list it all.

“I guess you forgot to mention that your siren blood allows you to stay underwater for a long time.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, trying to wring out his t-shirt. He finally gave up, pulled it over his head and wrung it out properly. Liza gasped and he couldn’t help the grin that split his face. He knew better than to let her know he’d heard it, though.

“What else can you do?” she asked, her voice a bit breathy, making Sloane’s gut clench and parts of him start to stiffen. Damn, the effect the woman had on him was intense. He could only imagine what it would be like if they really got together, which was never going to happen. Even if she didn’t hate him, the two of them getting romantic wouldn’t make for a good working relationship if she agreed to a job at SPA.

“That’s it,” he said. “Being able to stay under is part of my affinity to water.”

“Right.” She sounded like she didn’t believe him, and he hated that. He wanted her to trust him, to come to him if things got bad. “Clearly, getting sent up to West Virginia to be a lab rat is not a viable option. So what’s your plan?”

“What can you do?” he asked. “You need to be able to offer them skills and be enthusiastic about being an agent.”

“I can defend myself, I’ve had years of self-defense classes, and I… um, I’m not scared of much. I’m willing to do anything, but… Look, is this really my only option? I don’t see this being the job for me.”

He wished he could tell her something different. He wished he could give her life back, but he couldn’t. “Listen, it’s going to be okay. You’re tough and you’re brave and you’ll be fine. Just tell them you want to be an agent, you want to help other fae. Lie about the bodies you touch, and work this case with me.”

“Wait, what? What case?”

“The mermaids.” He realized he hadn’t told her about that, yet, and he blamed it on the way she was looking at him, her gaze dropping to his bare chest and abs every so often, like she couldn’t help herself. If she was… If this whole situation wasn’t… but she was and it was. “Fulsom’s agreed to lay low and allow us to figure out what’s going on with the mermaids. If we do that, and I work up a stunning report of what a great agent you’ll be, it will guarantee you a job.” He knew it was weak, but it was the best he could come up with.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you or Fulsom in trouble…”

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time. But my boss love initiative, especially if we solve the case.” He wasn’t as confident as he hoped he sounded, but he didn’t know what else to do to help Liza.

She nodded. “I’ll think about it, okay.”

They walked back down the beach together, no longer holding hands, and Sloane missed her touch. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to take her hand, but he held back. If he couldn’t have all of her, having just part of her was becoming too painful. They didn’t talk, Liza clearly lost in thought, and Sloane looked out at the ocean, letting it fill his senses and calm him. The ocean would always feel like home to him. As much as he hated his job, he’d always be grateful it allowed him to live so close to the sea.

When they got back to the restaurant, Liza turned to him, her cheeks flushed. “Listen, thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate what you’re risking and I don’t blame you for interrogating me.” She smiled. “Although, your bad cop act could use some work.”

“I was off my game,” he said, his voice a bit gruff. She looked so beautiful, and it touched him that she was forgiving so easily the fact that he’d ruined her life. He hadn’t forgiven himself, yet.

She chuckled and it was a good, bubbly sound. “Sure you were. Anyway, thank you.” She turned and started to walk away from him. Sloane took a moment to enjoy her rearview yet again, before he realized what she was doing.

“Where are you headed? I’ll walk with you.”

“I’m staying with a friend tonight, so I’m taking the bus. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

She nodded like she’d expected him to say that, and started walking. He wondered if the ‘friend’ was a ‘boyfriend’ and tried to figure out how to ask, before he reminded himself it didn’t matter, she could never be his.

“Normally, I’d go home, but my surprisingly repressed roommate is having what I hope is life-changing sex and I don’t want to interrupt.”

He wondered if she was so frank with everyone and tried to think of a response, but couldn’t get past thoughts of her and life-changing sex. “Good for him,” he finally managed.

“Yeah, he deserves it. He’s a great guy.”

“It was good of him to show up and get you out of there today. It’s not an area in which many lawyers are willing to tread.”

“Really? I hope I didn’t get him in trouble.” She sounded genuinely worried and he was awed by her ability to worry about others when she was neck deep in her own shit. They reached the bus stop and sat on the bench together.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Right, okay, good.” The bus pulled up, astonishingly prompt. “Well, thank you for waiting with me.”

He stepped onto the bus with her, not ready to say goodbye. “I’m actually heading in the same direction,” he lied.

Once they were seated on the bus, she eyed him suspiciously. “I thought you had a car.”

He shook his head. His lack of car was a sore point with him. He’d grown up in a world, before the climate crisis, where everyone had a car. He missed the freedom of starting up the engine and going wherever he wished as fast as he wanted to go. After the climate change, manufacturing was halted and all cars that weren’t strictly electric were taken off the roads and sent to the junkyards. The cars made now were electric, manufactured with a carbon-free method that took months, and were prohibitively expensive, as were the batteries and parts. Sloane would have to be making twice what he did to afford a car. “I have use of a company car for business only. There’s a GPS on it to insure I never use it for anything else.”

Liza smiled at him, clearly not bothered by her life without a car. “So you have to ride the bus like the rest of us. How refreshing.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know, so he sat silently next to her, enjoying her nearness and resisting the urge to touch her, to brush the hair out of her face, to press his lips to hers and find out just how soft they were. He realized he’d been staring at her when she turned and smiled at him. “This is me.”

He stood to let her out of her seat and followed her off the bus. Once they were on the sidewalk, she looked at him, a mixture of worry and confusion on her face. “You live in this neighborhood.”

He looked around at the apartment buildings and empty storefronts and decided he didn’t need to lie to her. “It’s the middle of the night, Liza. I don’t know how many blocks from the bus stop your friend’s place is, and I’m not going to let you wander the streets alone.”

Emotions warred on her face and he braced himself for her anger. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, but I am trained in self-defense, you know. I already told you that.” She started walking and he fell into step beside her.

“I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself, but I’ve seen a lot of things in my line of work… A lot of things I’d like to un-see if I could. I’m not going to risk something happening to you, just so I can avoid coming across as a creepy stalker. I’d do the same for anyone.”

“Even Fulsom?” She asked, a teasing lilt in her tone.

Sloane laughed. “Did you know troll skin is impervious to bullets?” he asked. He’d never had a girlfriend he could talk about the fae with and he loved the wide-eyed glance Liza gave him. He loved being able to surprise her. Then he kicked himself mentally for thinking of her as a girlfriend.

“Are you making that up?”

“Nope. If anyone’s shooting at you and he’s around, just get behind him.”

She swallowed hard and then straightened up, steeling her shoulders. He wished she didn’t have to be so tough. “Maybe I ought to request Fulsom for my partner.”

He was so caught up in his regret, he missed the tease in her tone. “Well, there’s no reason he couldn’t be your partner, if that’s what you want. I can talk to Reynolds–”

She put a hand on his arm and stopped him. “I was kidding. Fulsom’s an asshole. I like you a hell of a lot better.” She looked at the doorway of the building behind her. “This is my friend’s place. Would you mind waiting with me while I call up to her. She’s not expecting me.”

So, not a boyfriend. Thank god. Although, possibly a girlfriend, if he was wrong about her sexual orientation. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself, she was off-limits. “Sure, I don’t have anywhere else to be.” And there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He’d never felt that way with Frankie, he realized, as he watched Liza dial her friend and chat with her. He’d cared for Frankie, and he’d had a good time with her, but he’d always been counting the minutes. How much time did he have to put in with her to meet the requirements of a good boyfriend? How soon could he get back to working on his latest case, or get to the gym to work off some of his stress? Frankie had never been able to calm him the way a good workout could. But standing there, watching Liza, he felt his breathing go easier and his mind relax. The girl was already like a drug to him and he didn’t even know her.

Then she was smiling and waving to him. She disappeared into the building and he watched her go, one hand raised to wave goodbye, and that sense of calmness she’d given him vanished. He had to help her be okay. He wouldn’t let her become a tool for an organization that had no concern for her well-being. If he hadn’t met her, he might even say SPA was doing the right thing. She could solve cases and save lives. She could make a huge difference. But he had met her and he wouldn’t let that happen to her if he could help it.

The next morning, when Sloane’s alarm went off, he had to force his head off the pillow. He’d gone to the gym after he’d left Liza, to figure out how to play out his plan to save her and to clear his head of her. She might make him feel calm when she was around, but he knew he couldn’t get emotionally attached. So he’d stayed at the gym until two, until he felt like he could stick to the plan and not think about her. After only three hours of sleep, it was way too early to be up. The sun wasn’t shining, which, with electricity rations, meant he’d have a cold shower and have to get dressed in the dark, which he hated. But he needed to speak to his grandmother, and she was always up before the sun.

He dressed in his usual business casual attire and was out the door in record time. He made it the three blocks to his grandmother’s house and knocked on her door, flashlight in hand. Since the climate crisis had caught the world unprepared, the seas rising and the earth warming much faster and sooner than even the most aggressive scientists had predicted, the world had gone into extreme conservation mode. Alternative fuels needed to be put into play and people were working on it, or so they said, but with helping all the people in the world who’d been devastated by the rising sea and rebuilding businesses and infrastructures, the alternative energies weren’t getting funded or developed as quickly as they should. Everyone agreed, however, that humans couldn’t risk putting more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere and making things worse, so the rations had been instituted. Street lights no longer lit up the night and electricity could only be used from sunset to midnight in the summer and sunset to ten in the winter.

His grandmother answered on the second knock, dressed in a shimmery blue sundress that had to be vintage since nobody manufactured with synthetics any more, her hair in a tidy bun, her make-up neatly applied, and her eyes bright and alert.

“Well, Sloane, dear, how nice to see you. Won’t you come in?”

Sloane leaned in and gave his grandmother a hard hug that made her chuckle and slap him on the back. “Be gentle, I’m an old woman.”

He followed her into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. She had candles, homemade, burning on the table and on the kitchen counters. A solar-powered crock pot was merrily bubbling with something that made Sloane’s stomach rumble with hunger. She’d probably had the crock out in the sunlight all day yesterday, storing energy for her meal today. “So why are you here? Coming to cancel on our Sunday dinner?”

“No, Gran, I’m wondering what you know about banshees.”

“They’re extinct,” she said, not meeting his eyes. She didn’t trust the people he worked for and, he was pretty sure, she didn’t trust him. “I don’t know anything else about them.”

“Well, I’ve met one. She’s half banshee anyway.”

Gran’s eyes met his and flashed in the dim light. “Do they know about her?”

He stared at his reflection in the window as though someone out there might be able to help him. He knew better than to try to lie to his grandmother, but he hated telling her anything that made her dislike him or SPA any more than she already did. “Yes, I brought her in for questioning and they took a blood sample.”

He’d anticipated the slap on the back of his head, but it still smarted. “What the hell is wrong with you, boy?”

“She knew things about a case she shouldn’t have known unless she was involved.”

“So you threw her to the wolves? And now you’re coming to me asking for more information to give them?”

He reached up and took her hand. “I’m not going to share anything you tell me, Gran. I want to help her. I want to make up for throwing her to the wolves.”

She sighed and sat down at the table next to him. “Why don’t you tell me what you know?”

He told her and she listened, her gaze intense, sympathy etching her face. As a full-blooded siren, his grandmother had the ability to lure any man she wanted, and it had earned her more than a few enemies among other women. She was a good person and Sloane had often imagined she would be surrounded by friends if it weren’t for her fae nature. There was a time when she had lived in a tight-knit group of sisters, like the mermaids did, but her sisters had all died and she was the only one left in North America. She’d had three husbands and Sloane was sure she could have the company of a lover if she wanted it, but she chose to live alone. His own mother had wanted nothing to do with her mother or her heritage, which is why Sloane hadn’t known about his siren blood until he’d started at SPA. He’d gotten to know his grandmother shortly after.

“A dreamer, huh? I don’t envy her that ability, I can assure you.” His gran patted his hand and got up to put a plate of cinnamon buns on the table. He had to be at work in fifteen minutes, but no one seemed to notice when he was on time and he needed to eat. He took a cinnamon bun and relaxed, knowing his grandmother couldn’t be rushed.

“Agent Rice, we are aware that you met with Liza Simmons last night. We are also aware that you took her to speak with one of your mermaid friends.”

His boss, Henrietta Reynolds, and her skittish lackey, Ernest Gardner, faced him from across an antique wood conference table. He’d been dragged into the meeting as soon as he stepped into work, twenty minutes late. He’d known right away what they wanted. When he’d met with Liza he’d known it was likely they’d put a tail on her in case she tried to run, but he hadn’t seen anyone he’d recognized at the restaurant and the risk would have been worth it, even if he had. There were several ways he could play it and he took his time to reconsider them and make sure he’d chosen the right one before he answered. It helped that he knew Reynolds, a small-minded, high-ambition woman who wanted nothing more than to be wealthy and powerful, hated to be kept waiting for anything. Rumor had it she’d been demoted to SPA because she’d tried to use sex to move up the ladder. Sloane didn’t believe the rumors, but she’d obviously pissed off the wrong people and had no sway with any of her superiors. If there was anyone who wanted a transfer out of the division more than he did, it was her, and, since she had no say in when or if he got his transfer, he enjoyed antagonizing her whenever possible.

Reynolds sighed heavily. “Spit it out, Rice. It’s hardly rocket science.”

“I went out for dinner and it just happened to be the restaurant where Miss Simmons works. She expressed to me an interest in the agency and I offered to answer whatever questions she had.”

“You were seen holding hands with her,” Ernest said, practically giddy with the possibility of nailing Sloane to the wall. Sloane figured Ernest was still mad about the time he switched the sugar with salt in the kitchen and Ernest had given Reynolds salt laced coffee. The left side of Sloane’s mouth turned up and Ernest glared at him, like he knew what he was thinking.

“She’s a friendly woman,” Sloane said. “I was having a bad day and she was comforting me.”

“Right, I’m sure friendly thoughts were all—”

“Enough, Ernest,” Reynolds spat. “Why did you take her to the mermaids? You know it’s against our rules to expose humans to the fae.”

Sloane knew that was where he could really get in trouble. Reynolds might not have the ultimate say in his transfer, but if she nabbed him for breaking the cardinal rule, he’d be out on his ass. He wasn’t supposed to know about the results of Liza’s blood test. “She said she already knows about the fae, right? She told me she’s got banshee blood and her lawyer told her about the existence of fae. She wanted to talk to Mel, because of some dream she had, but I told her not to mention the dream.” He snorted. “Who puts stock in dreams? She just wanted to meet a mermaid. I know it’s not normal procedure, but she really wants to be an agent and I think she’d be a good fit.”

Reynolds eyed him, assessing him with the speed of a bloodhound scenting prey. “Don’t you mean a good fit for you, Rice?”

Sloane widened his eyes and let his jaw drop. “A good fit for the agency. Look, we’re short on agents, you know that. Here’s a woman with fae blood and she wants to be an agent.” The fae division of the department had been staffed by fae in the hopes that the general population of fae would welcome their assistance and policing and not rise up in revolt. The fae didn’t revolt, but they didn’t exactly leap at the idea of working for a government they didn’t trust. The fae trusted very few of their brethren and almost no humans.

“I’ll see about that when I meet with her today. I would advise you to keep your distance until a decision about her placement has been made.” Reynolds sighed. “I also want you to stay away from the mermaids. We’ve been ordered off the case and I don’t want anyone thinking you’re still working it.”

“What? When did that happen? What about Louella?” Sloane knew Reynolds wasn’t a fan of the mermaids, but he didn’t believe she’d allow them to be murdered with no repercussions for their murderer.

“Louella’s body was found late last night and the coroner’s report is the same as the others, electrocution by eel. My—”

Sloane was on his feet in an instant. “Why wasn’t I told? That’s my case.”

Reynolds rolled her eyes. “Sit down, Agent. It’s not your case anymore. The order comes from the White House.”

Sloane sat down hard. He could argue with Reynolds, but he couldn’t argue with the chief of Homeland Security. “I want to tell, Mellita myself.”

Reynolds’ expression softened just a bit. “Of course. I understand.”

“While we’re here,” Sloane said. “I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to my request for a new partner.” He and Fulsom had worked out most of their differences, but if Liza was brought on board, he wanted to be there for her.

“You withdrew that request two months ago.”

“Yes, well, Fulsom and I’ve been having some differences of opinion lately and, if Liza is brought in, I’d be willing to partner with her, train her.”

Reynolds eyes lit, like she’d finally figured him out. “You want the credit for recruiting and training her, don’t you? It would look good on your resume.” She stared at him, like she was considering his offer, but he knew he already had her. No one liked to take on a trainee and there he was volunteering, making less work for her. “She’ll have to go through the same training courses as everyone else, and that’ll be six weeks. After that, I’ll place her with you if she agrees to it.” Agents in the fae division were typically fast-tracked through training and Liza would be no different. Reynolds started to stand, then stopped and glared at him. “You do understand that you are not to sleep with or date your partner, right? This isn’t some elaborate scheme to seduce her is it?” Reynolds had clearly been burned by some asshole in the past, but in general her hunch wasn’t a bad one.

“Of course.”

She nodded and stood. “Good.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

*LIZA*

“Good Morning, Ms. Simmons.” Miss Priss Agent Reynolds was seriously beautiful enough to be a super-model and the hand she extended to Liza was perfectly manicured and laughing at Liza’s chipped nail polish. Liza smiled brightly and didn’t hold the rudeness of her hand against her. She hadn’t liked the woman in the interrogation room, but maybe she’d been putting on her own bad cop routine. Liza sat down in a large, ornately carved chair and smiled at the agent. Ellison sat down next to her and placed a hand on her thigh under the table. He looked sleepy but happy, and Liza couldn’t wait to grill him about his night with Marcy.

“I apologize for my behavior yesterday, Miss Simmons. We are now convinced that you had nothing to do with the death of the woman on the beach and that you had no knowledge of your fae condition.”

“Condition?”

Agent Reynolds dropped her gaze to the table and her cheeks pinked. She cleared her throat. “Status.” She raised her gaze to meet Liza’s. “That said, now that your status is known, you have an obligation to use your abilities to assist the government and the local authorities as needed.”

Liza and Ellison had discussed her rights before the meeting, so she didn’t even look to him for help. “Agent Reynolds is correct, Liza,” Ellison said, probably for show as much as anything else.

She was glad Rice had prepared her for this, but she’d still hoped it wouldn’t happen. If he was right about the agency forcing her to work for them, he was probably also right about them disappearing her into a testing facility. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. In fact, being here and involved with the case of the woman on the beach, even in such a small way, has made me realize that I want to do this. I would like to be an agent here.”

Reynolds’ smile was condescending. “Yes, Agent Rice informed me of your desire. I’m afraid you must first prove you have something valid to offer us as an agent. Your dream about the woman on the beach was incorrect, so we’d like you to help us out on another case, see if you can get us closer to an answer about another death.”

Liza looked at Ellison, her eyebrows raised. Rice said they’d test her by making her touch corpses with confirmed methods of death, not a death in an open case. How could they know if she was correct if they didn’t actually know the manner of death? She’d filled Ellison in on what Rice had told her and, when she raised her eyebrows, he seemed to understand her unspoken question. “I’m not sure what you want from my client, Agent Reynolds. You’ve dropped the charges against her and now you want her to touch a dead body? Are you offering her a job?”

Reynolds’ eyes narrowed and Liza decided she was done giving her the benefit of the doubt. She did not like this woman. “We can’t offer her a job until we fully understand her abilities.”

“But you said yourself that the body she will be touching is that of a woman with a mysterious death. How can it be a test for Liza if you don’t know how the woman died?”

“In a general sense, we do know how she died. We’re hoping Liza can give us specifics. If Liza is serious about wanting to work for us, she should be happy to help us with this case.”

The look on Ellison’s face made Liza’s throat tighten. She knew it was bad, but she also knew she didn’t have any choice. Her fae blood had limited her choices. She gave Ellison a brief nod. “Okay,” he said. “My client will do this for you, but you must pay her for it and consider it her first act in her new position.”

“I’m afraid at this time we don’t have the funds–”

“Then get the funds. My client is cooperating with you and she doesn’t have to. You may hold the upper hand here, but if you make this more difficult for us, we can make it more difficult for you. I could start by requiring a second, outside opinion on my client’s blood work, and then–”

“Fine.” Agent Reynolds was far too relaxed for Liza’s taste. “We’ll pay her for her time today. She’ll have to stop by HR on her way out.”

“And I want a guarantee that I’ll start working here within the week and that Agent Rice will be my partner.” If Liza trusted anyone in that whole mess, it was Rice, and she figured she might as well make her request while she was in a position of some power.

“Done,” Agent Reynolds smiled and Liza felt as though she was missing something, something important.

“I want to use my degree,” Liza said, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try.

Ellison squeezed her thigh, probably to tell her to quit while she was ahead, but she ignored him and focused on Agent Reynolds, whose smile was fading.

“I understand that I won’t be allowed to complete my doctorate, but I want to use my master’s degree. I can help out here and do research and…”

Agent Reynolds’ narrow gaze made Liza nervous and she trailed off before she said something stupid. “I’m sure we would love to have you on staff as one of our biologists, but you can’t be an agent and a scientist, Liza. You’d have to choose.”

Now this was an option Rice hadn’t mentioned, but Liza didn’t like the predatory gleam in Reynolds’s eyes. “If I worked as a scientist would I work here?”

Reynolds shook her head slowly. “Quite attached to this little town are you? No, you’d work in our West Virginia office. That’s where the research is conducted.”

So instead of being a guinea pig, she’d be studying other fae who’d been sent up there. If she was lucky enough to stay out of a cage herself. “I want to be an agent,” Liza said.

“Yes,” Reynolds said. “Agent Rice said it was a life-long dream of yours, so I’m not sure why you’re expressing an interest in our research department.”

“Just hate to waste a degree,” Liza said, forcing a bright smile.

“I’d like some documentation of this conversation,” Ellison said. “Before my client touches the body, I want it in writing that she will be working for you and that Agent Rice will be her partner.”

Agent Reynolds stood and pushed her chair in. “Yes, of course. I’m assuming that once the paperwork is signed and Liza is working for us, she won’t bring her lawyer to our discussions again.”

“Of course not,” Liza said. She wanted to wrap herself around Ellison and carry him with her everywhere, but she understood that wasn’t an option. She was going to have to stand on her own two feet.

“Good. We ordinarily have a six week training requirement for our new recruits, but we may be able to bypass that, based on the results of your dreams, Miss Simmons.”

“My client would like to receive the training,” Ellison said.

Reynolds nodded and left without confirming or denying his request.

“What the–” Liza started.

Ellison put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Not here. Maybe not anywhere.”

Liza leaned back in her chair and tried to relax, but she was freaking the hell out. She needed a distraction. “So how are things going with you and Marcy?”

He flushed just the tiniest bit red. “Thanks for staying out last night.”

“That’s not answering the question. Are you going to marry her? Have her babies?”

He went even redder and Liza felt a bit giddy. Ellison wasn’t a blusher. Very little embarrassed him or made him uncomfortable. “Maybe. She’s amazing and brilliant and beautiful and… amazing.”

Liza squealed and threw her arms around him, just as the door opened and Agent Reynolds walked back in. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Her voice was ice cold and Liza sat back in her own seat like she’d been caught doing something bad. Ellison cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter. He took the paperwork from Agent Reynolds and looked it over.

“She wants double this salary,” he said, sliding the papers back across the table.

Reynolds’ face reddened and Liza could practically see the smoke pouring out of her ears. “I’m not authorized to offer–”

“Then find someone who is. You want her to touch dead bodies and re-live their deaths in her dreams at night, she should get compensated for the trauma and damage to her sleep and health. The fae might not have many rights, but they are entitled to fair compensation for their work and I am willing to take this to court.”

“Then perhaps we can’t hire her after all. She could go find employment elsewhere, but she will be required to travel to our West Virginia office so we can confirm her condi… her status isn’t dangerous to humans.”

“Ellison, I–” Liza really didn’t want to go to West Virginia.

“You have to demonstrate she’s dangerous before you send her there and, as she’s lived among humans safely for the last twenty-six years, I think you’ll have a hard time proving that. This is not 2060, the fae have rights now.”

“Even so, I can’t authorize this pay grade for a new recruit. You must understand–”

He stood and pushed back his chair. “Then my client will find employment elsewhere. We’re done here.”

Liza stood with him, but her hands were shaking. She didn’t trust Reynolds, and she had a bad feeling she’d manufacture proof that Liza was dangerous if she had to.

“Oh, for tides sake, sit back down. We’re still negotiating here,” Reynolds said, but her teeth were clenched.

Ellison sat. “I’m listening.”

“I can’t double the current salary, but I can offer her a significant bonus for each body she touches.”

“It had better be 10 grand a body or we’re walking.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking? We’re a government organization.”

“You going to suggest I can’t walk out of her and find someone in the private realm willing to pay her three times what you’re offering? She’s a banshee who can tell you exactly how someone died.”

“That is yet to be confirmed.”

“I’ve confirmed her ability myself. If I hear you’ve claimed she can’t do what I know she can do, I’ll take you before a judge.”

“Seems like a he said, she said situation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, now that I’ve considered it, I think my client should get 12 grand for each body she lays her hands on, even if she doesn’t have a dream.”

“Five is as high as I can go.”

“Eleven.”

Liza sat back and watched them negotiate, wondering what she could possibly do with all that money. It was easier to come up with a use than she’d expected. She could get a bigger apartment and rescue more animals and afford food and… Of course, she was supposed to lie about her ability, so she wouldn’t get any of that money. Saving animals, versus going crazy dreaming about people dying every night? It was a tougher call than she’d expected.

“Done,” Ellison said, grinning. Liza hadn’t been paying attention and she turned to question him, but he ignored her. “I want it in writing and I want it in triplicate,” he said. Reynolds left again, looking none too happy.

After all the papers were signed and Liza learned she’d be getting paid seven grand for each body she touched and had a dream about, they left that room and headed downstairs. The morgue was cold and smelled of cleaning products and formaldehyde, a scent that actually comforted Liza. It reminded her of a lab and she tried to pretend she was there to do research and not about to see a dead human. Her imagination wasn’t chugging on all five cylinders, though, and she shivered from head to toe. She clenched her jaw tight and tried to get a hold of herself.

Agent Reynolds walked over to the table and motioned Liza after her. She gripped Ellison’s hand and tried to pull him with her, but he shook her off. “I’d do anything for you, sugar, but I’m not getting close to a dead body.”

She glared hard at him, but he remained unmoved. So she swallowed, anticipating the nightmare to come, as much as seeing the body. She stepped up next to Agent Reynolds, who removed the sheet from the face of the dead woman. She was so beautiful, even in death, it took Liza’s breath away. She appeared peaceful, her plump lips curled in a slight smile, and Liza hoped maybe this was a joke and the woman was just sleeping, waiting to sit up and startle her. She didn’t move and Liza felt an inexplicable sorrow wash over her at the knowledge that she would never sit up again. She looked young, but Liza didn’t dare ask to know anything about her. She didn’t want to care about her, because she wasn’t going to help solve her case. She wasn’t going to let touching bodies and nightmares of death become her life.

Liza placed a hand on the dead woman and stepped away as quickly as she could. Reynolds covered her again and the look she gave Liza was almost sympathetic. Almost, if she interpreted pity as sympathy. “We’re pretty sure we know how she died. What we don’t know is who killed her or why, and we want you to help us with that. She was twenty-one, a student, and fae. Her friends tell us she was always happy, and had an almost child-like innocence.”

Damn. Reynolds was good and Liza hated her even more. “You’ll figure it out eventually, right? I mean she can’t have been dead long, so you’ll find who killed her.”

Reynolds dropped her eyes and shook her head, as though she really cared about the dead woman. Liza suspected it was all a ploy, but she couldn’t help being drawn in. “She’s the fifth fae girl killed in the same manner. We are certain we’re dealing with a serial killer and we have no clues, nothing to help us find him or her. Except you.”

Reynolds looked at Liza and let that sink in. The last thing Liza wanted was to relive the woman’s final moments, but if she could stop a serial killer, if she could get her a little taste of justice, how could she refuse? Liza walked back over to Ellison without looking at him, but he knew. He took her hand and squeezed and she leaned into him. She just hoped he’d be there for her when she woke up. She didn’t want to be alone with those images of death in her head.

They left, and were starting across the parking lot, when Liza saw him, walking toward the building from his car. He looked good, in a suit and tie, his face clean shaven, the sun kissing his golden skin. She saw him and a spark of something like happiness shot through her, stuttering her heart. In that moment, she wanted comfort so badly that she ignored logic and just let herself soak in his beauty and warmth.

He stopped when he reached Liza and Ellison, and smiled like he was happy to see them. “Hello, Miss Simmons. How’d everything go?” He put out his hand and she took it, with an eye roll for his unnecessary formality. She felt the slip of paper against her palm and did her best to hide her surprise. She pulled her hand away and slipped the paper in her pocket while he shook Ellison’s hand.

“So?” He said to Liza. “How did it go?”

“Not as expected,” she said. “I’m going to be helping to track down a serial killer.” Ellison put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed to tell her to shut up, but Rice had gotten the message. His smile drooped just a bit, but he met her eyes and nodded, and she knew he understood and wouldn’t try to talk her out of it.

“That’s a worthy cause,” he said. “Have a good day. It was nice to meet you, Ellison.” And he disappeared into the building.

“You like him, don’t you,” Ellison said, when they were back in his company car.

“Yeah, I do. And worse than that, I trust him.”

Ellison swore under his breath and started the car. “Just be careful what you tell him. You can’t be sure whose side he’s on.”

She reassured him as best she could, but she knew it was already too late for caution.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

*SLOANE*

The rough sea rocked the boats in the marina, and the wind blew warm, wild, and salty. Sloane stood on the dock and just breathed it in, trying to let it calm him. After he’d seen Liza in the parking lot, he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and somehow make it all okay. Make it so she didn’t have to dream someone’s death, but even if they’d been alone, he knew he couldn’t do that. She’d made her decision and he couldn’t talk her out of it, even if he’d wanted to. He knew the case Reynolds had put her on and it needed to be solved. They needed whatever answers Liza could give them, but it didn’t make it any easier to know that Liza would have to live through a nightmare.

Reynolds had spoken to him as he was leaving work. She’d reassured him that Liza would be partnered with him, if she was found to be suitable for the position. She’d also warned him to stay away from Liza until her new status was confirmed.

He stretched his arms over his head, working the kinks out from the workout he’d managed to fit in before he’d gone out to the marina. His muscles would be shaky for the dive, but he’d needed to de-stress. Fritz, the owner of the gym, had offered him a job there, again, and that evening, for the first time, it hadn’t sounded like such a bad idea. He’d said no to the gym job, of course, but once Liza was on her feet and okay…

“Hi.”

He spun around and saw Liza standing on the dock. He hadn’t heard the boards creak under her approaching steps. She smiled at him, her face a bit pale, her legs a bit shaky, but her smile was open and genuine, and his heart cracked, just a tiny bit. He could love this woman, he realized, and that scared him as much as anything else. He fought the urge to comfort her, and straightened up. Their relationship had to be business, all the time. That’s why he didn’t even look at her long, lean legs beneath her tiny, polka-dotted shorts. He didn’t look much, anyway.

“Hi,” he said. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

“Of course, are we going back out to talk to the mermaids?”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “Reynolds asked us to drop the case and to avoid all contact with the mermaids. I wanted to let you know in person that Louella is dead.”

Liza flinched and looked away, but not before he saw her eyes go glassy. “I think I knew that already. You aren’t really going to stop investigating the mermaid case, are you?”

“What I’m going to do doesn’t matter. You should stay away from the mermaids and from me until we start working together as partners.”

He saw hurt cross her face, replaced quickly by a steely rage. “No.”

He couldn’t help his smirk. The idea of her challenging him was laughable. “No to what part?”

“No to all of it,” she said. “You are the only person I trust in this whole mess. I’m not walking away from you and I’m not walking away from the mermaids. I want to help you find out who killed them.”

“I’m flattered by your devotion,” Sloane said. “But you’d be smarter to walk away. If I don’t get in trouble for helping the mermaids, it will be something else.” And he knew it was true. He was tired of playing by the rules and seeing people he cared about hurt. He was tired of kowtowing to procedure in a broken system. “We should only associate at work.”

“I guess you’ve forgotten that I live by my gut, by my instinct. I won’t be able to live with myself if I walk away from helping those mermaids who died, and I won’t be able to live with Fulsom or someone else as my partner when you take the fall for breaking the rules. I’m your partner and you’re stuck with me.”

He shrugged and tried not to think about or question the relief that flooded him at her decision. “I don’t want to be responsible for ruining your life any more than I already have.”

She smiled, aware she’d won. “I’m walking into this with eyes wide open. Anything that happens from here on out is on me.”

He nodded and stepped on to the boat, a sail boat he’d bought years ago and fixed up himself. He loved being out on the water, but it was a treat he reserved for only the most necessary of times. He feared the way his affinity to the water felt like an addiction, and he didn’t ever want to be dependent on anything. Dependence made a man weak.

Liza stepped on the boat behind him and looked around. “She’s beautiful,” she said. “When I saw you wanted to meet at the marina, I hoped we’d be going out.”

“Did you have any problems getting here?”

She shook her head. “I saw an agent when I walked out of my building, so I went the opposite direction and took the long way around. Then I stopped at a friend’s place, changed clothes and put on this hoodie.” She flipped the hood over her head and Sloane smiled at her disguise. If he’d been tailing her, he’d have known her even with her face covered, but Fulsom had gotten one of his witchy ex-girlfriends to put a glamour on her, so he was confident she hadn’t been followed.

“Good.” They could work on her disguise techniques later. He unmoored the boat and steered it away from the dock. “We’re going out to see what Louella saw before she died,” he told her. “You dive certified?” He figured she was, being in marine biology.

“Yes. Need to see my certificate?”

“No. We don’t have to go out too far and the wind is in our favor tonight. It won’t take us long to get out there. There’s a suit that should fit you on the seat.”

She nodded and he went back to steering the boat. A few moments later, she stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder that sent an electric charge through him. It felt so good he almost groaned aloud. He was going to have to man up and ignore the affect Liza had on him. “You want me to steer, while you change?”

He stepped away and let her take over, not looking at the way the wetsuit clung to her curves. “Just keep heading north,” he said, his voice gruff.

She nodded and took over. “No problem.”

He changed quickly, leaving his gun with his clothes on the deck, and returned to the wheel, but they were already closer than he’d expected. He used the depth finder and the GPS to avoid the multiple objects that still rested on the ocean floor since the rise of the seas. He also used the depth finder to look for the drill, but realized he didn’t need it. He saw a metallic glint in the moonlight and knew they’d found it. A metal buoy marked the spot. With Liza’s help, he fixed the rudder, backed the jib to windward, and eased the mainsail so that the sloop was hove to and unlikely to move too far from their current position. He got the rest of his gear on and showed Kelsey where they would dive.

“What do we do if they’re people down there?”

“The idea is to stay hidden behind the rocks and get as a good a look as we can.” He showed her a high-tech underwater camera. “I’ll get some pictures. If we do run into anyone, we tell them we were out for a moonlight dive and we get the hell out of there.”

“Nice camera. You steal that from the office?”

He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to tell her the truth about the camera. He didn’t share much of himself with other people, and making it known that he owned an underwater camera, a hard to find device, revealed his love of the sea. It revealed that he spent his free time diving and photographing the world under the surface. If his attachment to the sea, his need for it, was a weakness, then letting others know about his love of diving and the pictures he took was giving them knowledge of that weakness. Liza had put herself in danger, had pledged her loyalty to him back on the dock, and he had no desire to lie to Liza or hide his weaknesses from her. “It’s mine.”

“Cool,” she said, her face open and accepting, as it always was. He would need to teach her to close herself off more, or she’d never survive as an agent. “So do you really need all that gear? Can’t you breathe under water?”

“I can’t breathe under water, I can just hold my breath for a really long time. Fifteen minutes or so. Are you ready to dive or do you want to chat about my camera and my fae abilities all night?” He knew he sounded touchy, but he suddenly felt that bringing Liza along might have been a mistake.

She laughed. “I think I might prefer to stay up here, but you’re right. We should dive.”

“You could stay up here,” Sloane said. “Maybe you should. We could make a quicker getaway with you up here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t go all chivalrous on me now. I’m supposed to be your partner. That means I go where you go.”

He could think of a million arguments, but she was right. “Okay, let’s go.”

Together, they sat on the edge of the boat, backs to the sea and slipped into the water. As always, it felt like coming home. He held on to his camera and motioned for Liza to follow him. She moved through the water as easily as he did and he knew, just from that, how comfortable she felt there and how much she loved it. Except for his grandmother and the mermaids, he’d never met anyone who shared his love of the sea. His mother had hated it for all the ways it made her different from humans, and she’d hated that Sloane loved it.

They swam up behind some big rocks and Sloane heard it, a grinding sound that grated on him like nails on a chalkboard. Together, he and Liza peered over the rock and saw the drill. A mammoth structure that might have looked artistic if it hadn’t been digging into the sea floor. He snapped a bunch of pictures of the drill and the guards around it, being careful to stay out of sight. When he glanced over at Liza, he saw that her face was pale, but she scanned the area in front of and behind them, looking out for any trouble. He considered swimming around for a different angle on the drill, but didn’t feel like pressing his luck. He’d gotten enough.

Together, he and Liza swam back up. He saw the lights before his head broke the surface and he knew they were in trouble. Three larger, hybrid boats surrounded Sloane’s boat, with spotlights shining on him and Liza as they surfaced. He didn’t see the Coast Guard insignia anywhere and he wished he had his gun. Next to him, Liza’s eyes were wide and her face was paler than before. He pushed his mask onto the top of his head and smiled at her. He swam to the boat, climbed on and helped her up. “Act natural,” he whispered.

“Hi, there,” he said to the guys on the boats around them. “Everything okay?”

Two of the boats dimmed their lights and moved away, but the third stayed close and a burly, weathered guy on the deck grinned at them. “I’m with the Coast Guard, sir, and we were concerned that this boat had been abandoned, its occupants possibly drowned. We were just calling it in to find out who owned it. It says it belongs to a Molly Lettits?”

“Yes, that’s my grandmother. She let me and my girlfriend take the boat out for a night dive. We’re both fine.” Sloane had registered the boat to his grandmother as a gift, but she rarely used it and she freely shared it with Sloane.

The man’s eyes widened and his attention darted over Sloane’s shoulder. Sloane turned and saw Liza slowly stripping down to an emerald green bikini that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Aside from two triangles of fabric over her ample breasts and a third triangle between her legs, there was an expanse of tanned, toned skin that looked so touchable he took an involuntary step toward her. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm his suddenly racing heart and his body, and blessed her mentally for the distracting the other sailor. He turned back to face the supposed Coast Guard sailor, who wore no uniform and was almost certainly a pirate. “Like I said, we’re fine.”

The man cleared his throat and tore his eyes from Liza. “You were diving in a restricted area, sir, and night diving is dangerous under any circumstances. I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate your camera.”

Sloane’s heart sank. Shit. He hid his disappointment and grinned at the man. “I don’t understand. I was just taking pictures of fish.”

The man raised a gun at Sloane. “This is a restricted area. I’m going to need the camera.”

Sloane’s heart rate increased a few beats per minute. He wasn’t panicking, yet, but he suspected the man with the gun would lose no sleep over shooting both of them. He’d probably get away with it, too. Piracy was a thriving business and it was unlikely their bodies would ever be found. He stepped toward the man and started to hand him the camera, but Liza shrieked and tackled Sloane. He was so shocked, he didn’t fight her when she ripped the camera from his hand. She popped out the memory card and threw it overboard. The other man now had the gun pointed at Liza, his face was red.

“Why did you destroy the memory card, Ma’am?”

“I am so sorry, but you didn’t really need our pictures of fish, did you? And there are pictures of me on that card…” She looked down at the boat deck and pretended to be embarrassed. “That are frankly indecent. I just don’t want anyone but my boyfriend to see them.”

Sloane knew she was acting and he was still tempted to dive over the side of the boat and retrieve that memory card just in case there were indecent pictures of her. “I apologize for my girlfriend,” Sloane said. “She’s shy.”

The man with the gun stared at Liza’s chest, leering, and Sloane wanted to cover her with a towel and then rip the man’s eyes out. Instead, he cleared his throat until he regained the man’s attention. “So there’s no reason for you to take the camera now, right?”

The man’s eyes narrowed like he suspected a trap. “I can’t risk you coming back here and taking more pictures. I’ll be taking the camera.” He had given up any attempt at sounding like a legitimate sailor, but it didn’t matter. He was the man with the gun.

“Give him the camera, sweetie," Sloane said. Liza looked at him like she wanted to argue, but he shook his head. She stepped close to the rail and handed the camera to the man. Sloane watched his five-hundred-dollar camera vanish and he knew he’d never see it again.

The man grinned at them, revealing a gold tooth, and handed the camera to another man who’d stepped up behind him. “Now,” said the man with the gold tooth. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

Sloane never liked having a gun pointed at him, and something about the predatory hunger on the guy’s face made his heart clench with fear for Liza more than for himself. Death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, and Sloane knew the pirates who roamed those seas were a violent, amoral lot who wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap Liza and keep her as their plaything for as long as they could. “Sure.” Sloane smiled at him as he moved around the deck like he was looking for his ID and hit the rudder to a position that would aid their escape. “We’d like to see yours, as well, and a business card so I know where to go to get my camera back.”

The pirate’s grin slipped only a tiny bit, before it broadened. Sloane moved to stand closer to him and Liza moved around the boat behind him, hopefully preparing to get the sails in position. “How about you just give me your IDs and I don’t shoot you and take your girlfriend?”

Sloane affected a shocked expression, but he knew he didn’t have the upper hand. “I thought you said you’re with the Coast Guard?”

Gold tooth laughed and steadied his aim on Sloane, but his friend put a hand on his shoulder. “Not with the gun.”

Sloane sighed. Whoever had hired those pirates had ordered them to make any deaths look like accidental drowning. They wouldn’t want someone looking into pirate activity in that area and stumble across their drilling operation. He had no doubt he could take the guy in a fair fight, but pirates never fought fair and Sloane had no obvious weapons at hand. A click behind him made him start to turn back toward Liza, but gold tooth’s howling spun him back toward the other boat. Gold tooth no longer had the gun in his hand and was clutching his wrist, which was now spurting blood.

“Don’t just stand there,” Liza shouted at Sloane. “Let’s go.” She was already steering the boat into the wind. Sloane looked back at the other boat to make sure Gold tooth’s partner hadn’t pulled a weapon and then he set about angling sails and helping to get them out of there. They had to go in the direction the wind took them, it was the only way to outrun the hybrid boat whose engine he could hear roaring to life behind them.

“We won’t outrun them with this,” he said.

Liza shrugged like she faced down pirates every day. “So shoot ‘em.”

He grabbed the gun she’d left on the deck by her feet and ran to the stern, ready to shoot if the pirates got too close. There was no doubt they’d give chase. Pirates believed in revenging their own and Sloane would probably have to lose the boat, too. If the pirates could track it, they could track him and his grandmother, and they’d never leave him alone again.

The pirates were catching up, so Sloane steadied his arm, holding the gun and aiming it at… nothing. Neither of them was visible on the deck. He knew they had to be somewhere with a window, otherwise they couldn’t steer or follow, but he couldn’t see them and he didn’t know enough about how pirates operated to guess their strategy or their hidey hole.

He let them get closer and, just as they made a move to pass, Liza steered across their path and caught a pocket of wind flowing to the North West. Sloane wondered if maybe she had some elemental or siren blood in her, because she was just as in tune with the wind and the sea as he was. As the pirates maneuvered their larger boat around to give chase, he saw one of them step out onto the deck. He had something that looked like a freaking missile launcher. He raised it to his shoulder and took aim, probably not wanting to chase Sloane and Liza all over the ocean when they had a drill to guard.

There wasn’t time to lower the sails and slow down. Sloane had to take the shot while they were close enough and he had to be damn lucky. He wasn’t. Just as he aimed and pressed down on the trigger, a wave caught them, making him wobble and miss his shot. He ran to the bow, and grabbed Liza’s arm. “We’ve got to jump, now.”

She didn’t question him or hesitate. She jumped into the water with him. The boat exploded behind them and he pulled her under and kicked them as hard and fast away from the boat as he could. It helped that the water rocked and pushed them out with the explosion, but he still felt wood splinters hitting and pricking his skin. Somehow, they avoided being hit by any huge chunks of wood. He pulled Liza deeper and kicked harder, swimming down and away from the boat.

When they were deep enough, he saw the wide-eyed panic on Liza’s face and knew she needed to breathe soon. He felt himself start to freak out, and he took a moment to still himself and consider his options. He wasn’t able to breathe under water, so he couldn’t give Liza his air without threatening his own air supply. He sent out a mental call to Mellita, hoping the mermaid was close enough to hear his weak call, and turned to Liza. She motioned to the surface, but he shook his head. If they went up there with the pirates, they’d be killed for sure. At least below the surface they stood a tiny chance.

He motioned between them to suggest she take some air from him. She shook her head, but he could see how badly she needed to breathe. Her eyes were beginning to go soft and sleepy, and he had to hold her down to keep her from floating up to the surface. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, pushing her mouth open with his tongue and forcing in as much air as he could. She breathed it in and, even though they were probably both going to drown, he couldn’t help noticing how good her lips felt and how badly he hoped they both lived so that he could do that… never again, he reminded himself.

Liza’s eyes regained some of their normal spark, but she didn’t look comfortable. They were going to be in serious trouble if Mellita didn’t hear his call. They weren’t too far from mermaid territory, but Sloane had no way of knowing where in that wide-ranging territory Mellita might be. Just when Liza’s face was starting to go a bit blue, Mellita appeared out of the dark depths. She immediately saw the problem and used her magic to create an air bubble around Liza and Sloane. Liza gasped and tried to draw in a lot of air, but the bubble didn’t hold enough for that. Sloane had experienced Mel’s air bubble once before and he took quick, short breaths.

He could see the panic returning to Liza’s face, she couldn’t get as much air as she thought she needed. He reached for her and touched her hand. He just touched her and she stilled and looked at him. He didn’t have to speak or explain. She saw the way he was breathing and she realized her mistake. She matched her breathing to his and gave him a small smile of relief.

Outside the bubble, Mellita gestured for an explanation. Because of Sloane’s Siren blood, Mel could hear him when he called for her telepathically, but his blood wasn’t strong enough for them to have an entire conversation. He just motioned to her to let her know they needed to stay down there until the other boat was gone.

Mellita accepted his answer and her eyes went cloudy, the way they did when she was talking to her sisters. As Liza and Sloane watched, mermaids swarmed the pirate ship above them. Probably only half an hour passed before Mellitta nodded and pointed up. The mermaids were gone, but the pirate boat sat unmoved. Sloane grabbed Liza’s hand and pulled her up to the surface behind him.

She breathed the air in deep as tears streamed down her face. He wanted to hug her, but he was tired and keeping himself afloat was about all he could handle. “Thank you,” she said. “I thought we were going to be killed.”

“So did I. You handled yourself really well back there.”

“Not my first dance with pirates. Although, the ones I met were less persistent.”

He didn’t see any sign of pirates and he didn’t expect to. He could only imagine the death those pirates had, lured over the side by beautiful women to be drowned. Not a bad way to go, he supposed, since the mermaids usually had some fun with the men before they drowned them. At least, that’s what the stories said, he’d never asked Mel what they did with the men they drowned, and she’d never admitted to drowning anyone. “You are a good friend,” he said when Mellita popped up next to them. That’s the closest he could come to thanking a fae without putting himself into a debt he might not be able to re-pay.

She nodded. “Their boat is yours.”

“Thank—” Liza started, but Sloane managed to slap a hand over her mouth before she completed the phrase.

“Let’s go,” he said, smiling. Her eyes narrowed and she looked annoyed, but she swam to the boat without another word.

Once on board, he found out why he hadn’t been able to see the pirates. They steered from below-decks and used a video camera to see what was above them. The area below decks smelled of sweat and sex and vomit and was littered with garbage, so he sent Liza up top to relax and drove them back to the marina. They docked the boat in an empty spot, retrieved his underwater camera, and left the boat there like they’d never seen it before. The authorities would recover the boat and get anything they found back to the appropriate people.

Liza was still in her bikini and she was shivering so hard she couldn’t speak around her chattering teeth. The night was sticky hot, but up on deck the wind from the movement of the boat must have chilled her. There hadn’t been a usable towel or jacket onboard. Or she was shivering from exhaustion and fear, he couldn’t tell and he wouldn’t ask her.

“My place is really close,” he said. “I can get you something to wear and we can talk.”

She nodded, her teeth chattering too hard for her to speak, and she didn’t protest when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to his side. He rubbed her arms as they walked up the beach and then inland for several blocks to the small, brackish White Hollow Lake that was circled by about forty houseboats. He heard her intake of breath when she saw it and looked down to see her smile. “You live here?” she managed, her teeth not chattering as hard as they had been.

“Yeah, that’s me, ten boats in.” He walked with her around the boardwalk that circled the cove and they stopped together at his home. It wasn’t new or particularly large, but it was home to him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

*LIZA*

He led her onto the boat and she was pretty sure she fell in true like with him in that moment. She’d already been heading that way when he’d offered her the option of becoming an agent, and when he’d continued to help the mermaids, after he’d been told to drop the case. Now the cherry on the cake was that he lived on the water and felt the lake rock him to sleep every night. She looked around as they stepped inside and wasn’t surprised to see that his home was neat and tidy, without any clutter to be seen. There were no knick-knacks or personal items, not even any framed pictures. It looked bare and lonely to her, but she heard the sigh that escaped him and knew he’d relaxed when they walked in.

He let go of her, took a ratty, but clean, crocheted throw from the couch and put it around her shoulders. “Have a seat. I’ll go get you some warm clothes to wear.” He walked out and she sat, feeling more tired than she could ever remember being. She heard muted voices from the back of the boat and wondered if he had a girlfriend. He hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend, but they hadn’t exactly shared their personal stories. A tall, blonde woman with an hourglass figure, legs for miles, and a little red dress that showed off both, walked out of the back room, Rice trailing her. Her frown deepened when she saw Liza.

She recovered quickly and pasted a smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Frankie. You must be Sloane’s new girl.”

“No, I’m not. I’m… a friend. I was helping—” Rice stood behind Frankie, looking a bit shell-shocked, and Liza raised her eyebrows at him to ask him to help her out. He didn’t seem to see her at all.

“Sure, you were honey. You want my advice? Walk away now. Sloane has a serious commitment phobia and he’s not around enough to make anything less than commitment worth the trouble.” She walked to the door and glared at Rice until he figured out what she wanted and opened it for her. She disappeared into the night without another word.

Finally, Rice’s dazed expression moved to Liza, and she actually felt a little bit bad for him. A gorgeous woman like that leaving him in the middle of the night after what they’d just been through? She’d be a little out of it, too, if she were him. “I forgot the clothes,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with a pile of clothes, he looked more like himself. “Sorry about that,” he said. “She took me by surprise.”

“It’s okay. That’s a pretty harsh way to dump someone.”

His eyes widened. “What? Oh, no, we broke up a couple of days ago. She was just here to pick up the rest of her stuff. I need to get the locks changed.”

Liza’s pity moved from Rice to Frankie. “You think she’s going to keep coming over and surprising you?”

He ran a hand through his hair, which was a mess from the wind and the saltwater, and his hand stuck in it a bit. He sighed, looking completely unsure of himself. “No, no, but… here.” He thrust the clothes at her. “You can take a shower if you want. It’ll even be warm.” They had another two hours of electricity that night.

Liza suddenly just wanted to go home, curl up in her own bed and go to sleep… And dream about the death of a girl at the hands of a serial killer. Shit, there’d be no peace for her that night. Still, she couldn’t stay at Rice’s all night and he was acting so strange. “It’s okay. I’ll just put these on and head home.”

“No,” he said so loudly that Liza startled. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself right now. Frankie, she… things had been bad between us a long time, but I never wanted to hurt her, and… Somehow I did. I’m just… But by the time you’re out of the shower, I’ll have my head on right again and we can talk.”

“I think you probably just want to be alone tonight. It’s okay, we can talk about all of this tomorrow.”

“No.” He looked like he’d surprised himself. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Usually, that’s all I want, but… No, there are things I need to tell you before you go to sleep, and it will take a little while. I don’t want you to be shivering and uncomfortable while I talk to you.”

He might have commitment issues and a difficult time with women, but she wanted to hear what he had to say. “Okay. Yeah, a shower sounds really good.” She stood, dropped the throw on the couch, and headed to the bathroom he pointed out. “If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, come get me, because I’ve fallen asleep in there.” She threw a glance back over her shoulder and caught Rice staring at her with a heat and a desire in his eyes that she hadn’t seen from a man in a very long time. She couldn’t tear her eyes away for several moments. He broke first, clearing his throat and dropping his gaze, and she turned and headed for the shower, wondering what the hell was going on in his head.

She closed the door behind her, stripped out of her bathing suit, and turned the shower on, her thoughts flitting back to Rice. She’d liked his arm around her shoulders, and the warmth that radiated into her from his body. If she was honest with herself, she couldn’t think of anything about the man she didn’t like, and that worried her, for reasons she didn’t want to consider.

She turned off the shower, dried off, and put on the clothes Rice had laid out for her. At 5’2” she was short by anyone’s standards, and Rice was a good ten inches taller than her and broader than her by at least that. She pulled the sweatpants on, tied the waist as tight as she could, and then rolled it over about six times. At least they would stay on, but she still had to roll the cuffs several times. The t-shirt he’d given her must have been too small for him, because it didn’t fall to her knees, but the sweatshirt swallowed her.

She didn’t even bother checking the mirror to see how ridiculous she looked. She walked out to the living room and found Rice, in jeans and a t-shirt, pacing like an angry tiger in a cage. When he saw her, he smiled, and something in her stilled and relaxed.

“I guess my clothes are a little big on you.”

She just couldn’t resist an intro like that. “You could help me take them off.”

There wasn’t a moment of confusion clouding his face, the heat she’d seen earlier was back in a heartbeat and then he was across the room and his hands were sliding up her back under the sweatshirt and the t-shirt and his mouth was on hers. She pressed herself against him and slid her tongue into his mouth, reveling in his warmth and how good he tasted. He groaned, tightening his grip on her, before his kiss became harder and more desperate. She lost herself in that kiss, in the feel of his body against hers, in the way the calluses on his hands tickled her skin.

She ran her hands under his shirt, and felt the hard muscles in his back move as he moved against her. She could feel he was hard in all the right places and she knew, more than she’d ever known with any other man, that he wanted her. Possibly even more than the air he breathed, he wanted her. She could feel it in the way he pulled her close and hung on, like he couldn’t get enough, and how he kissed her like they had a time limit or an expiration date. Doubts flashed in the back of her mind, but she pushed them away, because what she was feeling with him was too good to overthink.

“No,” she said, her voice sounding husky even to her own ears, when he moved away.

Pain flashed across his face. “We shouldn’t do this,” he said. “Frankie’s right about me. I’m a terrible boyfriend. I’m terrified of commitment, and–”

“I’m not asking for commitment.” She stepped back into him, pushing his shirt up and kissing his ridged belly. If they stopped and she had time to think, she’d probably agree with him, and she didn’t want to stop. Her whole life, everything she’d dreamed and wanted, was gone, and her new life involved scary as shit pirates with missile launchers. She wanted to indulge herself and luxuriate in him for just a little while. He moaned, but he put his hands on her shoulders and moved her gently away from him.

“While I appreciate that, we need to tread carefully here. If everything goes as planned, we will be partners and if Reynolds finds out we’re sleeping together–”

“We’re not sleeping.” She knew he was trying to be serious, but she was in no mood to listen to reason.

He didn’t roll his eyes or get frustrated. He just smiled at her. “I want you to understand what you’re getting into. If Reynolds finds out–”

“Then I’ll get stuck with a new partner or fired. Or we could end up hating each other and still have to work together. Plus, you’re shit at relationships and I fall in love way too easily. I get all that. This whole thing is a recipe for disaster and I should go sit over there on that couch and you should sit in that chair and we should talk, but I’ve had a shitty few days and I’m scared… no, I’m fucking terrified and you… you are the first thing that’s felt good and right in a very long time.”

He took a step closer to her, but he didn’t put his hands on her and her body was starting to get really angry at him for that. “I don’t want to hurt you, or screw your life up any more than I already have.”

“I don’t want those things either but, right now, I want you and I’m willing to risk the other stuff.”

He took another step forward and, that time, he put his hands on her and slid the sweatshirt and t-shirt over her head. He looked down at her naked breasts and groaned. “God, you are perfect.”

“Oh, I’m far from perfect,” she said, as he cupped her breasts in his hands and ran his thumbs over her nipples, bringing them to attention. He kissed her again, a bit less desperately, then he picked her up and carried her to his room, his mouth still on hers.

He laid her gently on his bed, stood and pulled his t-shirt off from behind his head. He took her breath away. She’d been with a lot of men, a lot of very good-looking men, but he had muscles in places she didn’t even realize a person could get muscles, he was all ripples and planes and perfection. She sat up and put her hands and then her mouth on him, feeling his contours. He stood perfectly still, not touching her, barely breathing, and let her explore him. For a few minutes anyway, then he said, “My turn,” and pushed her back down on the bed. He pulled her sweatpants off, laughing at how many times she’d had to roll them over, but he stopped laughing when she lay before him completely exposed.

She tried to sit up, but he met her eyes, his own hot and hazy, and pushed her gently back down. “It’s my turn,” he said. So she submitted, but she wasn’t able to keep her hands still like he had, she ran them through his hair and over his back, feeling the muscles there flex and loosen as he moved his mouth over her. He tasted his way down her, skipping over her center and kissing the inside of her thighs before making sure her calves and her ankles felt loved. It felt so good she couldn’t stand it and, just when she was about to ask him for more, he moved up and put his mouth on her, right where she wanted him to be. He licked and sucked like he knew exactly where she wanted to be touched and he had her screaming his name so fast it was almost embarrassing. He moved back up her, and smiled at her. “I do have neighbors, you know.”

“What’s your point?” She pushed at his shoulders, and he leaned back and let her unbutton and unzip his jeans. He wasn’t wearing boxers and she saw him, large and ready and waiting. Her smirk at the possibility of embarrassing him with his neighbors faded as her smugness was replaced by desire. She tried to push his jeans down, but they stuck on his bare skin and his solid, she assumed well-formed ass. She looked up at him for help, only to see him smirking down at her with an expression similar to the one she’d had moments before. “Is that funny, Sloane? ‘Cause I’ve already gotten mine, so I can just walk away if you make this too difficult.”

Her threat didn’t appear to faze him, and she considered carrying it out, but then he licked those lips and said, “I didn’t expect you to back down from a challenge so easily.” Obviously, the physical buttons on her body weren’t the only ones he knew how to push.

“I don’t like you, at all. Not even a little bit.” She pushed and pulled until she got those jeans down, then she leaned back on her elbows and just looked at him. His thighs were corded with muscle as thick and carved as the rest of him. He leaned over her, but she pushed him away. “Stand up and let me see what you’ve got.” He stood and faced her, his eyebrows high. She lifted a hand and spun a finger in the air. He rolled his eyes, so she did it again with a bit of a pout. He spun, but too quickly for her to really take him in. When he was facing her, she spun her finger again. “Slowly.”

He sighed and turned a slow inch at a time. When his back was to her, he flexed his butt a few times and raised his arms in the air for a few muscle man poses. There was no doubt the dude was ripped and Liza might have laughed at his show if she wasn’t marveling at how beautiful he was. “You may face me,” she said.

She was a little worried the show might have caused his interest to droop, but he was still ready, so she sat back up and had her mouth on him before he’d completed his spin. He gasped and she smiled against him. She teased him with her tongue and tasted him, taking him in as far as she could. She heard his breathing increase, “That feels so good, I don’t ever want you to stop, but I want to be inside you.” She let him pull her up to his mouth and he kissed her so well she forgot where she was for a moment.

He magically produced a condom and slid it on. She was so fascinated by his hands on himself, she was pretty sure she could watch him all day and not get bored. Then his hands were on her and she decided that was better. He pushed her back down and slid into her, and he felt so good and so right that she gasped and all thoughts left her as he moved against her and brought her to that screaming vista of pleasure. He took her there two more times, before he reached his own climax.

When he was done, he hugged her to him so tightly that she felt something inside her break wide open. Tears pricked her eyes, but she swallowed them back down. She didn’t want to have to explain him that she was crying because, for the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged somewhere, she felt like she’d come home, and an emptiness inside her no longer felt so cold and dark. She couldn’t tell the commitment-phobe that she wanted to stay with him in that moment forever.

He sighed in her ear and then he let her go and left to clean up in the bathroom. She lay there, terrified of what she felt for him and fully aware of how badly he could, and probably would, hurt her. Sleepiness overcame her fears and her thoughts and she was just starting to drift off, when she felt Sloane return to the bed. She expected him to snuggle down and wrap himself around her and, when he didn’t, her comfy, sleepy feeling vanished. Maybe he wanted her to go, she realized.

She wrapped the comforter tight around her and sat up to see him watching her, a wariness in his eyes. “God, I almost fell asleep. I should get dressed and head home.”

His hand on her wrist stopped her and she looked at him. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

His words were right, but his expression was all wrong and Liza knew all about overstaying a welcome. “I’d like to stay, but I have a dog and a cat and they’ll expect to be fed and walked. Thank you for… and I’ll see you.” She tried to climb out of bed, but Sloane didn’t let go of her wrist.

“Frankie’s right,” he said. “I’m not very good at relationships and I don’t know that I won’t screw this up and hurt you, but I want you to stay. I should let you leave and pretend like this never happened. Us, together, will probably get us fired or killed or… worse, but I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want us to go back to being just a little more than strangers. I want you to stay here in my bed and… in my life.” It touched something in Liza to see him looking so vulnerable.

“Okay,” she said. “I’d like to stay.” And she realized she wasn’t just saying that for him, she wasn’t just saying that because she was a sucker for vulnerability in anyone. She wanted to stay for herself. He made her feel safe and wanted and there was nowhere else she’d rather be. That thought scared her more than anything else. She’d had plenty of relationships and gotten serious with a handful of guys, but she’d always kept some distance. She’d always avoided getting too attached. She already felt that necessary distance slipping and she knew she should walk away, before she got lost in him, but she couldn’t. He wrapped her in his arms and she wasn’t strong enough to pull away.

“Good, because there’s another reason I want you to stay. My grandmother is a full siren and she told me some things about Banshees and their abilities. It’s too late to talk about all of it, but before you go to sleep, you should know that you can block the dreams. You don’t have to have them. There’s a poultice you can make and–”

“I don’t want to block the dream tonight. I want to help that girl if I can. I want to find out what happened to her.”

He nodded, his chin bumping her head, like he wasn’t surprised. “Okay. I’ll be here. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Thank you.”

“We can talk about what we saw tonight and my grandmother in the morning, but before we go to sleep, I need to know why you weren’t more afraid of those pirates.”

She laughed, relieved that the question was so easy to answer. “I was terrified. I thought I was going to pee my bikini bottoms, but it wasn’t my first encounter with pirates and I knew they’d kill us both if we gave them the opportunity.”

“You knew right away they weren’t really the Coast Guard, then?”

Her pause must have given away her shock, and he chuckled. “Of course, not. Well, you had me fooled. I had no idea you were scared, and you have great instincts. You saved our lives.”

“No, I–”

He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “You saved my life, and I’m glad you’re going to be my partner. Fulsom would have sold me up the river in a heartbeat.”

She couldn’t help but smile, even though she was pretty sure he was full of shit. He tightened his grip on her and they snuggled down and fell asleep together.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

*SLOANE*

Sloane woke up to Liza screaming. He reached for her but, in the dim light from the moon, he could see her eyes were still closed and he didn’t want to interrupt her dream if she was re-living what had happened to the woman she’d touched. Well, he wanted to interrupt her, there were tears streaming down her face and she stopped screaming and began whimpering, and he wanted to wake her up and take her away from that place so badly he had to fist his hands in the sheets and hold on with everything he had not to shake her awake. Then holding the sheets wasn’t enough and he had to get up and pace the room. The distance between them and the pain on her face made him want to punch something. He couldn’t leave the room, he couldn’t leave her alone, but when her eyes finally flew open and she looked at him, terror and hurt and anger so clear on her face, he moved toward her.

He wasn’t fast enough. She leaped off the bed and into the bathroom before he made it to her side. He jumped onto and over the bed and into the bathroom. He knelt next to her on the cold tile floor and held her hair and rubbed her back while she wept and vomited. When she was done, she turned and snuggled into him, and sobbed like her heart was breaking. She was shaking and sweaty and she smelled like vomit, and he couldn’t hold her tight enough. He couldn’t do anything to make her pain and fear go away and it killed him. It killed him that he couldn’t do more to help her and it killed him that she would want to do it again, that she would want to help other people and she’d dream again.

When her sobs stopped, she rinsed her mouth with his mouthwash and washed her face, and Sloane carried her back to bed and held her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He felt her stiffen in his arms.

“You don’t have to talk about it. We can talk about whatever you want or I can just hold you and we can go back to sleep.”

“I died,” she said, her words crackling with tears. “I feel like I should be dead.” She twisted in his arms and pressed her body against him, wrapping her top leg around his hips. “Remind me that I’m still alive.”

He pressed his mouth against hers and kissed her long and slow, tasting his own minty mouthwash and a slight bitterness from her vomiting. He ran his hands over her and enjoyed the feel of her smooth, soft skin.

She pulled away, just enough to speak. “Not like that,” she said, her voice catching on a sob at the end. “I want to feel alive. I want it hard and fast and real.”

It almost felt wrong, after seeing her in so much pain, to want so badly to do exactly what she said. A part of him wanted to be gentle and protect her, but that’s not what she wanted. So he pushed the urge to protect and heal her down, and looked at her as a woman, a woman he still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have in his bed, a woman who was so beautiful and sexy she took his breath away. He thought of her as a strong woman who was telling him exactly what she wanted and he gave her what she asked for.

He allowed his fear for her and his anger about what she had to go through to rise to the surface and he kissed her hard, tasting her and feeling her, until his lips felt bruised and she was sighing into his mouth and begging him to fill her. He wanted to give her what she needed, but she had scared him and he moved down her body and tasted her breasts, her perfect, full breasts, nipping at her skin and letting the sounds of her pleasure fill his ears, until the sound of her, the taste of her, the feel of her warm, silky skin was all he felt and saw and heard and tasted.

He started to move farther down, to continue tasting her, but she grabbed him by the ears and pulled him up. “Please,” she said, and all he wanted was to ease the fear and pain in her eyes.

As he pushed himself into her, she put a hand to his chest and he thought maybe he’d made a mistake. She just grinned at his uncertainty. “Slow first, I want to feel every bit of you. Then hard and fast.”

He moaned aloud and almost lost it right there. There was nothing quite as a good as a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and asked for it, especially when she had Liza’s sweet voice, made husky with desire. He took a moment to get control and then he slid slowly in, watching the way her eyes emptied of some of the fear and pain, and filled with heat. When he was all the way in, she closed her eyes as though it was too much for her. “Now, remind me that I’m alive,” she said.

He pushed away all thoughts of his own pleasure and his own release, and tried to give her exactly what she needed. He watched her face and her body, and paid attention to the sounds she made, until he figured out exactly the rhythm and angle she needed. He brought her to the edge and over, screaming his name, twice, before he couldn’t take it anymore and found his own release. When she felt him climax, she opened her eyes and the heat and the desire there almost killed him, she arched into him and went screaming over that edge again with him.

He collapsed against her, and rolled until she was curled up on top of him. He stayed inside of her and watched her until her breathing slowed and he knew she was asleep. She hadn’t said a word and he hadn’t tried to get her to talk. He lay there and just held her, not wanting to go to sleep, wanting to somehow protect her from any more nightmares, to protect her from the reality her life had become.

The next time Sloane woke up, it was to his alarm. He hadn’t needed an alarm to wake up since he was in high school, but he still set it every night just in case. He slapped the alarm off and reached for Liza, only to find the other side of the bed empty. He sat up and looked around, but she wasn’t there. Panic pinched his chest and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. He loved being alone in the morning. He loved eating breakfast and waking up quietly and not having anyone there to make him feel guilty about hitting the gym before work. He tried to shake off the feeling that something was wrong, pulled on boxers and jeans and did a quick scan of the small houseboat.

He found the note in the kitchen. She’d used his back-up cell to call Ellison, and had found out he’d stayed at his girlfriend’s house and her poor dog had been home alone all night. He understood why she’d left, but he wished she’d woken him up to tell him what was going on. He could have seen her home and she could have told him about her dream. He still thought she should lie to Reynolds unless the dream had given her some sort of solid proof of who the killer was.

He didn’t like how he was feeling, he was worried about her, but there was also a sort of empty ache that he couldn’t quite pinpoint or explain. If he’d woken up at 4:30 like he usually did, he could have worked it off at the gym, but he’d set his alarm to give himself just enough time to shower and get to work. Since he went to the gym in the evenings, too, his morning workout was more a habit than a fixed necessity and he believed in the value of good sleep, so he’d set the alarm to wake him in the event he needed to sleep in for some reason. He’d always assumed the reason would be the flu, and not mind-blowing sex with a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. Then he was remembering his hands on her skin, her mouth on him, how good it felt to be inside her, and he needed a cold shower.

Fulsom was standing by his desk when Sloane got in and he didn’t look happy. “Where the hell have you been?”

Sloane was five minutes early and he was still worried about Liza, who he couldn’t call, because her cell phone got blown up with the boat the night before and Fulsom seemed as good a punching bag as anybody. “Fuck off, Fulsom.”

Fulsom, ever contrary, grinned at him. “Awww, did somebody have a bad night? Your seduction plan of little Liza didn’t go so well?”

Sloane was used to Fulsom’s bullshit, but everything still felt off, so when Fulsom said that about Liza, he did something he would never have otherwise done. He grabbed Fulsom by the neck and slammed his face hard onto his antique wood desk. Fulsom just laughed, which pissed Sloane off more, and he leaned over and growled in Fulsom’s ear. “You don’t even say her name. Understand, Asshole?”

Fulsom raised his hands. “Yeah, I got it.”

Sloane let him go and stepped back, taking deep calming breaths.

Fulsom was still grinning, his hands in the air. “Don’t hit me or anything, but you need to get that shit under control or Reynolds is going to be able to tell and she’ll never let you two be partners.”

Sloane had to take another deep breath before Fulsom’s words penetrated. “Get what under control?”

Fulsom’s grin faded a mere fraction and he took a step back from Sloane. “I’m not saying her name, okay, but based on the way you’re acting, Mr. Cool himself losing his cool, I’d say you fucked her and are now bonded to her.”

Sloane had to take another deep breath to keep from punching Fulsom. He stepped up to his partner and spoke a bare whisper. “You mind not sharing that information with the whole office?”

Fulsom looked around like he’d forgotten they were in a cubicle farm and had the nerve to shrug. “It won’t be a secret for long if you tackle everyone who says her name. Everyone’s going to know you two have bonded.”

“Bonded? What the fuck does that mean?”

Fulsom fluttered his eyelashes at Sloane. “You weren’t very nice to me this morning, so I don’t think I’m going to tell you. Why don’t you go ask your grandmother?”

Sloane’s hands fisted and he could feel rage taking him over. He was lifting his hand to push Fulsom’s face back into the desk, when Reynolds stepped into his cubicle and cleared her throat.

“You filled him in, Fulsom? The car is waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I filled him in,” Fulsom said. “Come on, lover boy, we’ve got work to do.”

Sloane tried to remove the emotion from his face and unclench his hands, but by the time he’d turned to face Reynolds, she was gone.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Fulsom said, his grin widening.

An inexplicable panic rushed through Sloane and he found it suddenly hard to breathe. “Where are we going?” Usually, when a car was ordered for them, it was because they had a job out of town.

Fulsom slapped him on the back. “Not too far. There’s been another wolf-sighting and the boss wants us to spend a couple of days watching the pack house to see what’s going on.”

The wolves. He had a job and he was acting like an idiot. He grabbed his bag and followed Fulsom to the car. He stared out the window as the usual sights passed on their way to the pack house, which was in Cobb Town, about thirty miles outside Greenville, and tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. Why did he feel so panicky about leaving? He’d wanted to be there for her after she told Reynolds about her dream, but it would be fine. Liza would be fine. He wasn’t even sure what her expectations were after last night. He’d said he wanted her in his life, but he hadn’t been specific about her role in his life and she hadn’t agreed to anything. They hadn’t made any plans and she wouldn’t be expecting to see him. She didn’t have a phone so she couldn’t call her. He found himself dialing his grandmother, instead.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

*LIZA*

Liza arrived in Reynolds’s office, exhausted, confused, and homeless. She’d hoped to see Sloane on her way in, not because she needed anything, but just because she felt a weird sort of need to see him, and a bit of an ache of loneliness when she didn’t. Liza didn’t like that feeling. She liked her independence and she preferred not to depend on anyone for anything, especially not her sense of well-being.

Last night, she’d gotten lost in Sloane, and her dog, home alone, had barked all night and let everyone in the building know she’d been hiding animals in an apartment that allowed no pets. At least she’d been able to convince her landlord to evict only her and let Ellison stay. At the moment, her dog and cat were with the security guard at the front door of the building. He hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of babysitting her pets, but forty dollars had convinced him to change his outlook.

Reynolds sat behind her desk, in her crisp pants suit, and smiled at Liza, who was in jeans and a t-shirt, with no make-up and bed-head. At least she’d made it to her appointment on time, which was pretty amazing, considering her morning. Now, she had to re-live her dream in front of this woman who looked at her like she was something foul she’d stepped in. “Good morning, Miss Simmons. How was your night?”

The tone of Reynolds’ question made Liza wonder if she knew where Liza had been last night, and remembering where she’d been made her cheeks warm. Liza tried to finger comb her hair, but her fingers got stuck in tangles and she gave up. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a bit of a rough morning. I was evicted from my apartment.”

Reynolds’ brow crinkled. “Because of your new fae status? You should have your lawyer contest that.”

“No, because of my dog who… wait, what? How could I be evicted for something no one is supposed to know about?”

Reynolds had the decency to blush. “We do our best to keep a low-profile, but if your landlord was another fae who didn’t like banshees, or someone who was related to or had met the fae before, they could have noticed something different about you.”

“So this secret about the fae, not such a secret, right?”

“More people than we would like are aware of the fae, but the vast majority of the population don’t believe and think those who do are a bit crazy.”

Considering that Liza’s mother was full-blood fae and she’d had no idea the fae existed, she could actually believe Reynolds’ theory. “Huh.” She said. “Well, I was evicted because of my dog, and there’s nothing my lawyer can do to help me with that.”

“There’s an apartment in my building that’s available.”

“Thank you,” Liza said, thinking hell no. “I’ll look into it.”

Reynolds nodded, and cleared her throat looking a bit uneasy. “Did you dream last night?”

“Yes. I dreamed of the girl who died.” Liza’s hands shook and she clenched them together in her lap. She was not only recounting a horrific dream, she was committing herself to a future of more such dreams. “She was out to dinner with a friend, someone she’d known for a long time, and he told her he had feelings for her. He told her he was in love with her and she was so…” A sob caught in Liza’s throat and Reynolds pushed a box of Kleenex across the desk to her. “She was so happy. But she was worried, too, because he didn’t know that she had fae blood and, if he might want to marry her and have kids someday, she’d have to tell him. She didn’t want him wasting time on her if her fae identity was going to be a problem in the long run.

“She told him she wanted to take their relationship to the next level, but she had to work that night, she was an intern at a local ER and she had the late shift. Her date walked her to her car and kissed her. It was a perfect kiss. The sort of kiss you could build a life on, you know?” Liza looked at Reynolds for understanding, but Reynolds just stared blankly back at her. “Anyway, she drove straight to work, but someone grabbed her when she stepped out of her car. He grabbed her and put a cloth bag over her head. She couldn’t see and it was hard to breathe and she was so scared. She was so fucking scared.” The tears started and Liza didn’t even try to hold them back. “And she was sad, because when her friend kissed her, she’d imagined a future with him and she really, really wanted that future.”

“What happened next,” Reynolds asked, her voice flat.

Realizing that Reynolds didn’t care what or how Alexa was feeling, Liza stopped giving her the emotions. “Her name was Alexa, by the way. I didn’t get a last name. Anyway, she was taken somewhere and the bag stayed on her head. It was somewhere cold and it echoed, like a basement, there were tiles under her feet and she could feel how cold they were through her shoes. The man who’d grabbed her, he asked her a series of questions. The questions weren’t clear in the dream, I could tell he was asking her something and she was refusing to answer, but that’s all I got. He promised that if she told him the truth he’d let her live, but she knew he wouldn’t. When she didn’t answer his questions… he started to hurt her.” Liza pressed her nails so hard into her palms, she felt blood flow.

“Tell me,” Reynolds said. “I need to know how accurate your dreams are.”

Liza nodded. She understood, but it didn’t make the telling any easier. “He put sharp things under her toenails and her fingernails. When that didn’t work, he put his hands on her neck and he squeezed until she was right to the point of blacking out, then he let her go and asked again. The last time…The last time, he held on too long and she passed out. When she slipped into the darkness, she was relieved that she hadn’t given anyone up. Her last thought was of her friend, the one she’d had dinner with, and how much she loved him. I never did get his name, she didn’t use his name when she talked to him or in her thoughts.”

“Silas.”

“What?”

“His name is Silas.”

“Oh, well, that explains it. If my true love was named Silas, I wouldn’t use his name either.” Liza was trying to lighten the mood, mostly her own since Reynolds seemed unaffected, but it only made her feel worse. “Poor Silas,” she said. “Can you tell him? Can you tell him that her last thoughts were of him?”

Reynolds raised her eyebrows. “And how would I explain I knew that?”

Liza bit down on her lip so hard she tasted the iron tang of blood. She wanted to argue with Reynolds, because Silas deserved to know how much Alexa had loved him, but she knew Reynolds was right. Her entire body and heart rebelled as her logical brain tried to convince it that this was her life now. She wouldn’t be comforting anyone, she could only try to help find and stop the killer.

“Was she able to see anything? Anything at all?”

“No,” Liza said, just as a detail she’d forgotten flashed in her mind. “Yes. Yes, she could see his shoes. They were brightly colored running shoes, neon blue and pink.”

“Anything else? Smells? Sounds?”

“It smelled like disinfectant. The man’s voice was oddly regular, with no accent or even slang.” Liza thought for a moment. “He was calm the whole time. Even when she kept refusing to tell him anything, even when she… she screamed he spoke to her in a calm voice, like he was talking about the weather. I doubt that will help.”

Reynolds’ expression softened for just a moment, so quickly that Liza wasn’t sure she’d really seen it. “On the contrary, his lack of emotion is indicative of his mental state and his personality. His actions and his line of questioning is new information to us, and indicates he has a specific goal in his killings. That and his lack of emotion suggest he’s either a mercenary or he’s working alone. He’s not someone who was coerced into killing or who has any qualms about the hurt he’s causing. Prior to your information, we’d been certain the killings were motivated by passion, the fae status of the women merely coincidence. We now know the women were targeted because of their status, and that the killings are emotionless and carefully planned and acted out. All of this helps us better understand the sort of killer we’re looking for and I appreciate what you’ve added to this case.”

“Oh, well, good. I’m glad I could help.” And she was glad. Alexa’s killer needed to be caught and he needed to pay for killing her.

“Now, I had hoped you would stay today and take a few tests to determine whether or not you might be able to be an agent here. It seems that you’ve had a rough night, though, and need to find somewhere to live, so I will understand if you’d rather take the rest of the day off.”

She shook her head. “Just a couple of hours, I hope. I’ll be back by one.”

Reynolds nodded. “Report here to my office at one, and I’ll take you to HR.”

Liza took Beauty and Beast over to Marcy’s. Marcy had offered to let her sleep on the couch for a couple of days until she found a more permanent place to live. Unfortunately, Marcy was the only one of Liza’s friends who lived alone and her apartment was a one-bedroom. Liza’s other friends already had at least one roommate and most of them had two with the third already taking up the couch. Rent was high, apartments were scarce, and couch surfing was a common habit. Liza and Ellison had lucked out to find a two-bedroom place so cheap and, even if Marcy moved in with Ellison, Liza couldn’t afford to take over her rent.

Except, Liza realized, she’d just made seven grand for dreaming. If she kept making money like that, she’d be able to cover Marcy’s rent. Of course that meant she’d have to keep dreaming people’s deaths and she’d probably be a basket case, but at least she wouldn’t be homeless. After she’d taken Beauty for a walk and gotten him settled in his doggy bed in Marcy’s kitchen, and filled Beast’s food and water dish and set up his litter box, she headed back to her place, now Ellison’s place, to pack up her stuff.

Outside the door to Ellison’s apartment was a hand-blown glass vase filled with flowers. Her heart skipped a beat and tears pricked her eyes. She really wasn’t such a girly girl, but she’d had a shit morning and the fact that Sloane had thought of her… She picked up the flowers, just to make sure they were from him. The note said, “I’m out of town for a couple days. I’ll see you when I get back. Sloane.” On the romance scale, that note left a whole hell of a lot to be desired She let herself into the apartment, her face in the flowers, and appreciated that for someone like Sloane, flowers the morning after was a huge deal, even if his note sucked.

She closed the door behind her and almost dropped to her knees as an ache hit her. She missed him so bad it hurt and she had to sit down in the first chair she found and just hug the flowers. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d been crazy about a guy before, but she’d never felt like this. She’d never wanted to feel like this. She’d grown up with a mother so in love with her husband that she followed him blindly into whatever trouble he came up with and barely noticed her daughters. Liza had always promised herself she’d never be that deeply in love with or that dependent on anyone and she wouldn’t.

She spent one night with the man and she forgot all about her pets and lost her apartment. He was clearly only adding to her problems. She couldn’t need him that badly, and she couldn’t miss him already. She would gain some perspective or she would find someone else to partner with, preferably a woman.

Ignoring the ache in her chest, she stood and put the flowers on the kitchen table. She threw the note in the trash and went back to her room to pack. There was no point packing up all of her books and knick-knacks, Ellison would let her leave them there until she found a place. She just packed enough clothes for a few days and headed back to Marcy’s.

After showering and dressing in business casual attire, Liza headed to the nearest DMV to get a new phone. She couldn’t afford a modern-made cell-phone, but, because they were so expensive, the government issued basic model phones to all who needed them. Land lines had ceased use thirty years ago and the government felt every citizen ought to be able to dial 911 or surf the internet for the nearest hospital. Liza’s phone didn’t do much more than that and it had a shit battery, but she didn’t have any other option. Because so few people drove cars, the DMV now handled all government cell phone issues, and Liza stood in line, sweating in the un-air-conditioned building for forty-five minutes before being handed a phone that looked like it had been run over, twice.

Liza met Marcy at Stacia’s for lunch. The restaurant sat on a high hill with a view of the ocean five blocks away. It was trendier and smaller than the seafood joint where Liza worked. Liza found Marcy on the patio and she sat down at the table with a forced smile. Her first instinct, when she’d gotten the phone, had been to call Sloane and give him her number, but she resisted the urge. He was working and had no need or reason to call her, and she didn’t need to hear his voice or make sure he was all right. Ignoring her body and her heart’s insistence that she contact him was making her stomach churn, but she swallowed hard and smiled through the discomfort. She was a strong, independent woman and she would have a nice lunch with her friend.

“Thanks again for letting me crash on your couch,” Liza said.

Marcy fiddled with her silverware. She looked casual and comfortable in cream slacks and a turquoise blouse, her shoulder-length blonde hair ruffled gently by the wind. “Of course. It’s no problem. Ellison figures this is the perfect opportunity for me to move in with him.”

“He would,” Liza said. She and Ellison had moved in together two weeks after they’d met. They’d always had fun together and she’d liked him immediately, but she’d never felt about him the way she felt about Sloane. Ellison had never consumed her thoughts or her life. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want to lose him, but I’m not ready to live with him.”

“Then don’t. He’s not going to break up with you just because you’re not as impulsive as he is.”

“Or as you are.”

“Just remind him how well that ended,” Liza said.

Marcy gave a small smile and then shook her head. “I’ve just never felt this way about anyone, and I want it to work out so badly.”

“I can understand that,” Liza said. “But I don’t think you need to worry about losing Ellison.” Then she looked up as an idea occurred to her. Maybe what she was feeling about Sloane was just normal, getting to know you, crazy about you sort of stuff. Maybe it would wear off. “How do you feel exactly, Marc? Like your chest hurts if you don’t see him when you thought you would. Like you might throw up if you don’t hear his voice? Like your knees get wobbly when you realize he’s out of town and you’re pretty sure you’re going to have a heart attack and become a jelly-like amoeba if you don’t see him soon.”

Marcy’s eyes had widened as Liza talked, and Liza’s heart sank. “Um, no. I mean I miss him and I want to be around him all the time, but nothing like that,” Marcy said. “What’s going on with you?”

Liza sighed and slumped in her seat. “I’m just like my mother.”

“Nope. I’ve met your mother. You are nothing like her. That woman is a heartless harpy.”

“Banshee, actually,” Liza muttered.

Marcy raised her eyebrows, but Liza just shook her head. She couldn’t tell Marcy about the fae, no matter how much she wanted to. “O-o-o-kay, then,” Marcy said. “What is this about? You feeling screwed up about some man?”

“Yes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think it’s got more to do with being evicted, and having to leave school, and the new job.”

Marcy gasped and Liza was relieved to have thrown her off course. “You’re really leaving school?”

She and Ellison had already worked out what she’d tell people, since they’d have to know she’d changed career paths. “I got a job offer that I couldn’t walk away from and, since I don’t need to complete my degree–”

“Hmmm, fascinating,” Marcy said. “Unless this job involves you on a boat for eight months of the year, I’m not buying it.”

Damn Liza for sharing her hopes and dreams with Marcy on more than one drunken night out. “I’ve already started and I’ve been on a boat. I won’t be on a boat as much as I might like, but I just really couldn’t–”

“Walk away. Got that part,” Marcy said, her eyes narrowed. “I heard the same story from Ellison and I didn’t buy it when he told me, either. So are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

Liza took a long drink and a bite of her roast-beef sandwich before she answered. “I already did.”

Marcy’s smile didn’t falter, but Liza could see the pain in her eyes and she felt terrible. It didn’t matter how bad she felt, though, she couldn’t tell Marcy the truth. Marcy didn’t need to be tangled up in her mess and she wasn’t going to break the rules before she’d even started her new job. She didn’t want to be a guinea pig in West Virginia. “Okay, fine. Tell me about the man to make it up to me.”

“When are you going to move in with Ellison?” Liza knew it was a low blow, but she really didn’t want to talk about Sloane.

“He hasn’t officially asked, yet. He just made a vague suggestion.”

“Ah, so you’ve been avoiding his calls.”

“If I hadn’t talked to him, I wouldn’t have known you’d been evicted.”

“Then you’ve been changing the subject before he can ask. Why?”

“Who’s this guy who’s got you so crazy?”

“I’m not crazy. You’re afraid of the commitment of moving in with him, aren’t you?”

Marcy’s eyes widened and Liza knew she’d made a direct hit. “You just want to take over my apartment.”

She took another bite of sandwich and glowered like she was offended. Marcy didn’t even flinch. She wondered why she and Marcy didn’t hang out more often, she liked her. A lot. “Of course I want your apartment. It’s gorgeous. I’d be crazy not to want it. But if you aren’t ready to move in with Ellison, I’ll be fine. I’ll find somewhere else to live. I’m sure there’s room in that squat on Sixth Street.”

“Wow, does that shit work on other people? Because all you’re doing is pissing me off. Would you really push me into something I’m not ready for, just so you can get my apartment?”

“Aha!” Liza pointed a French fry at her. “So, you’re not ready!”

“Of course not. I’ve only been going out with him for a little over a week and even that’s been weird with his sexual repression.” Her eyes got a bit misty. “Though also very fun.” She snapped herself out of it. “But it still hasn’t been long enough for us to move in together. I’m not like you and Ellison. I don’t fall in love at first sight, I don’t jump into bed at first lust, and I don’t move in with a guy just because he tells me he loves me.”

Liza’s heart sputtered and tears pricked her eyes. “Oh. My. God. He told you he loves you.”

Marcy threw up her hands. “What’s the big deal? He says that to every girl he meets, doesn’t he.”

Liza shook her head and dabbed her eyes with the cloth napkin on her lap. “He never, never, ever says it, Marc. Like seriously, never. He doesn’t even tell me he loves me as a friend. I’ve never even heard him tell his mother he loves her.”

Marcy’s eyes got a little wet, but she stuck her chin out. “So he has issues about that, too. We have to work those issues out before I can make a commitment like moving in with him.”

Liza stared at her plate and thought about it for several minutes. “Just be careful, Marcy. Ellison… He doesn’t seem like it, but he’s fragile. I get why you want to proceed cautiously, but he’s put himself out there by saying he loves you and you should make it clear to him you aren’t going anywhere. When he finds something good, he likes to hold on tight.”

“And end up being his live-in best friend, like you?” She didn’t even try to hide her sneer.

Liza could have been offended but she wasn’t. She knew where she stood with Ellison and she understood why they hadn’t worked. It wasn’t a sore point, and Marcy couldn’t hurt her that way. “Ellison never felt for me one-tenth of what he feels for you.”

Marcy slumped. “I’m sorry. It’s just not so easy for me. The last time I got serious about a guy, he treated me like shit. I’m a little gun-shy.”

“You?” Liza couldn’t believe the tough, take-no-shit Marcy could have ever been mistreated by anyone.

“It was a long time ago. I was young and stupid and he… He wasn’t anything like Ellison, but he… The way he acted, in the beginning, he…”

“He asked you to move in right away?”

Marcy nodded and tears overflowed her eyes and ran down her cheeks. It may have happened a long time ago, but for her the wounds were still fresh. “He was so charming and he’d show up and surprise me with flowers when I least expected it. He called me ten times a day. He took me out every night. He was the first guy who’d ever shown me so much attention and I fell for it. So, when he asked me to move in with him, after only a few months of dating, I did. I was in college and he was older, with his own place, so I moved in, and… Everything was great for a while, but slowly things started to change. He asked me to stop going out with my friends and, if I insisted, he’d accuse me of sleeping with one of them. After a while, I got tired of fighting and I just stopped seeing anyone but him. He even gave me a hard time about going to class if it was in the evening. He’d accuse me of meeting up with some guy, and he’d yell and get so angry. Then, he…”

“He hit you,” Liza guessed.

“No.” She bit her lower lip. “He never laid a hand on me. He never hurt me. He was just insecure and jealous and he… Anyway, he started yelling at me every day about one thing or another and I… I argued with him at first, but then I started to believe he was right. I really wasn’t a good girlfriend, I really couldn’t do anything right. I started walking around on eggshells, being so, so careful not to make him mad, but it never worked. He always got mad anyway.”

“How’d you get out?”

She shrugged. “I had a really good friend, and she saw what was going on. She confronted him and she packed up all of my stuff and moved me out.”

“Wow.”

“After I left, he tried to convince me to go back, and he stalked me for a while, but the farther I got away from him, the more I realized I didn’t want to go back, and I stayed away.”

“That’s terrifying.”

Marcy nodded. “I still have nightmares sometimes. It probably sounds silly to you, but it’s made it really hard for me to trust men. I mean, I guess it’s really that I don’t trust myself, that I’ll attract the same kind of guy with the same kind of insecurities.”

“He didn’t have insecurities, Marc, he was abusive.”

“No, he’d had a tough life and he was insecure and a little–”

“Mean. He was mean as a snake and he abused you, Marcy. Most guys, 99.9% of guys aren’t like that, sweetie. Ellison is not like that.”

Marcy sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Ellison wasn’t like that with you, but if the problem’s me…”

Liza walked around the table and wrapped her arms around her friend. “You aren’t the problem, sweetie. That asshole you dated was the problem. Ellison will treat you like an equal. He’ll let you have your own life. If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.” Liza gave Marcy one more tight squeeze and returned to her seat. “You should tell him what you told me and you shouldn’t move in with him until you’re ready.”

“You think he’ll be okay with that?”

Liza tried not to let her eyes show how crazy she thought Marcy sounded. “Yes, Marcy, he’ll be okay with that. He’s a good guy.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. It was the first time she’d ever seen Marcy anything but calm and confident, and she didn’t like it. Unfortunately, she’d told Reynolds she’d be in the office at one, which was only fifteen minutes in the future, so she couldn’t stay and make sure Marcy was going to be okay. Liza gave her three more hugs before she left, and Marcy seemed fine. Still, Liza couldn’t help worrying. She needed to make sure she was there for Marcy and for Ellison. Liza would not be like her mother and get so involved with a guy that she forgot all about her friends.

After three hours of physical and mental tests at SPA, Liza found herself on the evening street without anything to do, but think of Sloane and how much she wanted to tell him about her day and how hard every test had been for her. She considered herself to be in good shape, but fifty push-ups hadn’t come easy, and she was pretty sure she’d failed miserably. Her next thought was to talk to Ellison, and she dialed him as she walked.

“Hey, Li. How’s it going?”

“I’m tired. Can I come over there and hang out for a bit?” She hoped the desperation in her voice wasn’t obvious.

“I’d love to hang out with you, but Marcy’s coming over and it seemed like she needed to talk to me alone.”

Liza tried not to, because it was good that Marcy was going to get it all on the table with Ellison, but she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Even when Ellison had other girlfriends, Liza had always come first with him. “You should talk to her then. We can hang out some other time.”

“Great. Oh, by the way, Agent Rice called. He wanted to know if I knew how to get in touch with you. I told him you’d gotten a new phone, but I didn’t feel it was my place to give him your number.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“You gonna call him?”

“Why do you care?”

There was a long pause and Liza felt immediately guilty. It wasn’t Ellison’s fault she was in a pissy mood.

“Ooh, somebody’s defensive,” Ellison said, a laugh in his voice. “You really like the guy don’t you?”

“No,” she said, way too quickly.

“Uh-huh, well I think you should call him, sweetheart. He sounded a tiny bit desperate to speak to you. Just short of begging.”

“Well, if he begs, let me know, then maybe I’ll call him.”

“Wait, are you mad at him? Did he hurt you?” Ellison sounded like he was ready to track the guy down and break his nose.

“No, he didn’t hurt me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I just… I can’t talk about this over the phone.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll let it go. Just don’t do your usual thing, Li, okay? Don’t get scared off by how much you like him.”

Liza hung up the phone and stared at it. She’d never hung up on Ellison before, and she suspected he was laughing at her. Who the hell did he think he was? She didn’t get scared off by anything. She didn’t run from guys because she liked them. She ran from them because they got clingy, just like Sloane, expecting her to call just because he asked. Well, fuck that. She was her own person, and she wasn’t going to let some guy mess up her head or her life.

She went back to Marcy’s place, walked Beauty and fed him and Beast. Then she changed into sweats and a t-shirt and went outside for another walk. She had to get out of the apartment, because she kept picking up her phone and almost calling Sloane. Ellison had texted her Sloane’s number, just in case she didn’t have it. So thoughtful of him. She wanted to dial it, every part of her wanted to dial that number. She just wanted to hear his voice. Just wanted to tell him about her day and hear about his day and thank him for the flowers. And that was exactly why she wasn’t going to call him. She wasn’t going to get sucked down that rabbit hole. She left the phone at the apartment, grabbed her bag and stormed out.

After an hour of walking, she found herself in front of the public library. She went in and looked up everything she could about ocean drilling.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

*SLOANE*

Sloane stared at his phone as though he could make it ring using his mind. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t called. He knew it was crazy, he knew it had only been a day, but something just felt off, like an itchy tag in his shirt, and he knew he’d feel better if he could just hear her voice.

“You got better places to be?” Gabriel Moon asked, his voice calm. Sloane almost dropped the phone. He’d heard that tone before, but never when Moon was addressing him. Usually, when Moon used that tone, somebody died.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little confused, Moon. It’s not like you to ignore a SPA warning and we’re continuing to get reports of wolf sightings.”

Moon narrowed his eyes and Sloane glared right back. He wasn’t one of Moon’s wolves who had to cower when their alpha displayed his dominance. He had every right to speak his mind and he wasn’t going to apologize for that. Next to him, Fulsom’s breath hitched and the two other agents in the room leaned back in their chairs, but Sloane leaned forward. “If you were paying attention,” Moon said. “You’d know that the problem is that none of my wolves run without my say-so. Either you’ve got a wild wolf problem or your people calling in the sightings are liars.” Everyone in the room was aware of the other option, that rogue wolves had moved into Moon’s territory, but no one dared say it out loud. Suggesting there were interlopers questioned Moon’s authority. Sloane was sure Moon had his own wolves hunting for rogues, but he needed answers to take back to Reynolds.

Sloane knew he should back down, but he needed a distraction. He needed to shake off the bad feeling somehow and there was Moon, ready for a fight. “Or you’ve got a problem you aren’t sharing with us. Just give me something I can take back to my boss so I can get out of here.” And get back to Liza, he thought.

Sloane was pretty sure the other three agents stopped breathing and Moon trembled with barely contained rage. “You think because you aren’t part of my pack I won’t rip you apart for questioning my authority? You think that badge makes you safe here?”

Sloane knew he should be afraid, but all he saw was red. He wanted that fight. He really, really wanted that fight. “I don’t care–”

“He’s bonded.” Fulsom sounded desperate. “He slept with some fae girl and he’s bonded with her and she hasn’t called him.”

Moon sat back down, but the hard anger didn’t leave his face. “A bond hardly excuses the words he spoke here.”

“I think I have every right–”

“She’s not returning his calls,” Fulsom said. “He didn’t even realize they’d bonded, and the girl left his bed before he woke up this morning.”

Moon’s expression softened the tiniest bit. “I never thought I’d see you lose your head over a woman, Rice.” Moon chuckled. “It’s good to see you have a heart in there somewhere.”

“It’s not me, it’s this damn magic.” Sloane couldn’t help but shudder.

Moon laughed loudly and fully. “Ah, I see. You should be grateful for the magic. A bond is a gift and the sex… It is a gift.” Moon steepled his fingers under his chin and studied Sloane. “You should go. Take a few days off and spend them with the girl. Figure out this magic between you two. I’ll tell Reynolds you’re here and so will the other agents.”

Sloane sighed and dropped his head in his hands. He had to get a handle on this or he was going to lose his job. He straightened and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Moon. I’ll get it together, you can’t send me home over some woman.”

Moon sighed. “Please excuse us, fellows. I need to talk to Agent Rice alone.”

The others filed out and Moon smiled at Sloane and slapped him on the back. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He filled both glasses to the rim and handed one to Sloane.

“I can’t drink while I’m on the job.”

“Oh, you’ll drink because we’re celebrating. It’s clear that whoever told you about the bond, didn’t tell you everything, and I’m going to fill you in on what you’re missing.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

*LIZA*

Liza dreamed she was at a party, dancing to some sort of tribal music with pounding drums. The pounding got louder and more insistent, until she couldn’t keep up with it any more. She stopped dancing and slowly climbed out of the dream to realize the pounding was on her door. She pushed off the covers and pulled on the plaid pajama bottoms that she’d dropped on the floor when she’d gone to bed. She was wearing an old, holey t-shirt, but she didn’t own a robe and the t-shirt covered enough to be decent. Her heart pounded as she walked to the door. A knock in the middle of the night was either a serial killer or someone with very bad news.

She peeped through the peephole and saw Sloane, his expression so pained it made her chest ache. She knew if she opened the door, she’d wrap her arms around him and do anything to make that pain go away and she couldn’t afford to lose herself in him. She just couldn’t.

“What do you want?” she shouted through the door.

She hadn’t thought Sloane’s frown could get any more severe, until it did. “We need to talk. Apparently, I’m the last person you want to see, but you need to hear what I have to say.”

“Can you say it through the door?”

“I would have said it over the phone, but you won’t call me.”

Liza sighed. It was only a matter of time before Marcy’s neighbors got angry enough to complain and she didn’t want to get Marcy evicted, too. She unlocked the door and opened it, then ran back to the couch and got under the covers, before he stepped in and closed the door behind him. He squinted in the darkness. “Um, do you think we could turn on a light?”

“There’s a candle and matches on the table next to the door.”

Sloane lit the candle, walked over to the couch with it and put it down on the coffee table, illuminating her face. He looked at her and, for a moment, something like peace washed over him. His expression lightened and he almost smiled. Then he seemed to remember where he was and he sat down in the armchair several feet from the end of the couch. “Ellison said you got evicted. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sloane accepted that with a nod. “I tried to get in touch with you today.”

Liza suddenly found her hands fascinating. “Yeah, Ellison told me. I’ve been really busy today and I just… um… I forgot to call you back.”

“Ellison tried to call you to let you know I was on my way over, but you didn’t answer.”

No reason to tell him she’d turned her phone off and put it in the freezer to keep herself from picking it up and dialing his number. “I turn my phone off when I go to sleep.”

Sloane sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making a few strands fall over his left eye. She wanted so badly to crawl into his lap, push that hair out of his eye, and kiss him that she had to fist her hands in the blanket that covered her. “Listen,” he said. “I found out a couple of things today that you need to know. It’s not easy for me to tell you, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one affected here.”

So why did she need to know? She almost told him to leave, to tell her later, but he smelled so good, and she felt so right with him sitting there that she didn’t want him to leave. She was weak, so damn weak. “I’m listening.”

He nodded and when his eyes met hers, he must have seen something he didn’t like. “You aren’t making this very easy.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Did he think this was easy for her? Her own anger rose, and she gripped the blanket tighter unsure whether she wanted to jump his bones or punch him in the nose. “Didn’t know you needed me to be any easier than I’ve been.”

He sighed and narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine. It seems that when two fae have sex there is a bond that is created between them, a kind of magical connection that makes them need to be near one another in ways that normal human lovers don’t experience. I thought that was all there was to it, but the alpha of the wolf packs, Gabriel Moon, claims that the bond doesn’t happen between every two fae who get together. The bond is extremely rare, and it only happens between two fae that are highly compatible. The more intense the bond the less likely it is that it will fade or—” He cleared his throat. “Or ever go away.”

How did he know what she was feeling? And what did he mean it might never go away. She couldn’t imagine being more drawn to another human being than she was to him and, if what he was saying was true, she’d never break free of it. “What does this have to do with me?”

His reaction couldn’t have been worse if she’d physically slapped him. He flinched and pain filled his already sad eyes. “Nothing to do with you. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll go.”

Her chest ached and her heart cracked, but she knew she had to let him go. She couldn’t give in to the bond. “No, don’t go,” she said, her words betraying her as though someone else had spoken.

He stopped and looked at her, anger reddening his face.

“I researched that drill we saw.”

He returned to his seat, looking a bit like he was walking to his own execution. “Do you know what it is?”

“They’re drilling for petroleum,” Liza said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She was upset about what she’d learned, but she was also having a hard time keeping herself from climbing onto his lap. She wouldn’t give in. She wouldn’t allow some magical bond to control her, to make her lose herself in some guy. She really, really liked Sloane, but she hated the need she felt for him.

Sloane shook his head. “No. No way. They’d have to have a huge rig at top, right? I mean I’ve never seen one in person, but I’ve seen pictures.”

“I think they’ve got all of that. They’ve also got pirates patrolling to keep people from seeing it.”

He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face. “Shit. There’s no way they could be operating a research expedition?”

“The drill is way too large to be taking core samples. And why would pirates need to patrol a research project?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

*SLOANE*

He sat up, feeling exhausted and emptied out. Liza looked tired, but unaffected by what he’d told her about the bond. He pushed those thoughts away and tried to focus on the drill. “I knew it would be bad when I saw it. The problem is, someone has to be funding it, right? Someone with a lot of money and a lot of power. As far as I knew all the oil drilling machinery was destroyed after the riots in 2061. So it would have to be somebody who could get this thing built without anyone knowing about it and then they’re going to sell the fuel to who?”

Liza shrugged. “Someone more powerful than them? A country with looser energy restrictions?”

“Maybe. The question is who do we report it to?” Sloane loved his country, and he believed in his government, but he also knew corruption existed and that fae, such as himself, were always wise to tread very carefully.

Liza’s eyes widened. “We report it to Reynolds, right?”

He hated for her to know how bad things were, before she’d even started, but he couldn’t lie to her. “Reynolds? The woman who discounted your dreams about the mermaids? Who told us to drop the case?” He knew Reynolds wasn’t a fan of mermaids and he’d pegged her hesitation about helping them up to her speciesism. Now that he knew about the drill, he wondered if something more wasn’t going on.

“You think she knows?”

“Maybe.” He stared at the floor, because he couldn’t look at her face. He hated to see the disappointment there. The floor was a nice cherry hardwood that had been reclaimed, he could tell from the wear visible beneath the polish. If he looked closely, he could imagine other people walking across this wood, if he tried hard enough, he could forget how close Liza was and how badly he wanted to touch her. “But whether she knows or not, doesn’t matter. She told us to drop the case, and we can’t go in there with a pretty story and no proof.”

“So we have to go back.” She spoke so matter-of-factly and his heart pounded like it wanted to beat its way out of his chest. He had been about to make the same suggestion himself, but when she said it, he freaked out.

“No, it’s too dangerous. I’ll go back.”

He saw the fire in her eyes and knew he was in trouble. He knew he was being an overprotective asshole, but he couldn’t rein it in. “You said you want me to be your partner. So I go with you.”

“That was before I knew there’d be pirates.”

“Who I saved us from, you asshole. In fact, I think maybe I should go alone. I think it’s too dangerous for you.”

“You don’t have a boat.” He was finding it hard to breathe and he yanked at the neck of his t-shirt like that might be the problem.

“No, but I have access to a boat. Yeah, I think that’s the best way to handle this. I’ll go out by myself, and I’ll get the proof.”

He took several deep breaths and knew he was going to lose if he argued with her. “Make sure you get something that might tell us who built the drill or where the fuel is going.”

Her eyes widened a bit at his reversal, but she covered quickly. “Of course. Actually, I found the names and locations of a few factories that used to manufacture the drill. I thought we should check to see if they’ve re-opened.”

The new information cleared his head for a moment. “I don’t think they could get away with re-opening a factory. I would bet they salvaged parts and rebuilt the drill and platform in a smaller scale operation.”

She nodded thoughtfully and he loved the way she tapped her chin as she thought, her gaze distant. “So I’ll start with the scrapyards. See what I come up with.”

“Good idea,” he said. “Call me and let me know what you find.” It took everything in him to stand and head for the door, but at least she wouldn’t be sailing off to fight pirates without him in the next twenty-four hours.

“You’re leaving,” she squeaked.

He spun around, but she was staring at the blanket on her lap as though she hadn’t spoken. It was hardly a confirmation she felt the bond, but it was a sign she liked him being around, and he’d take whatever he could get. “Since I’m the only one affected by the bond, it doesn’t make sense for me to stay.”

She lifted her face and he saw tears in her eyes. “You’re not… It must be an awful feeling,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to go through it alone.”

He’d thought for a minute that she was going to say she felt it, too, but she just felt bad for him. Like one of her strays, she saw him as someone in need. A need she couldn’t satisfy. “Thanks,” he said, reaching for the doorknob.

“If it would help you to… I mean I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted…”

Was she really offering to sleep with him to help ease his pain? He rarely turned down sex, but he would never be any woman’s pity lay. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure the distance will help.” Realizing what he’d said, he put a hand up. “We can still be partners. I’ll get this under control.”

She nodded. “Have a good night.”

He left, feeling like he was leaving a vital part of himself behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

*LIZA*

Liza dropped her head into the blankets that covered her and screamed as quietly as she could. Her skin was practically crawling with the desire to run after him and drag him back to her bed. Why did she have to be so bad at seduction? If she had been more brazen, she could have convinced him to sleep with her and made it seem like she felt nothing. She could have gotten what she needed and sent him away without revealing that she felt the pull of the bond, too. If she’d been haughtier or… sexier or… . something. Surely, she could have played that better and not be alone with a desire for a man that made her want to climb right out of her skin.

Two things she knew for sure: Sloane could not, under any circumstances, know she felt the pull of the bond. If he knew, he would have too much control and he’d suck her right down the rabbit hole with him. No, he couldn’t know. And she had to find a way to end the bond. She had to find a way to make this feeling go away or she was going to lose her mind.

“Arty, do you think we can talk later,” Liza asked her satyr friend. She was working her shift at the restaurant, after a day of training with SPA, and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do after a day of physical, mental, and emotional work was go home and go to bed. Except that she’d had to touch another body, and she wasn’t looking forward to sleep. Plus, she needed to keep her job at the restaurant in case the SPA gig didn’t work out. Which was likely if she couldn’t figure out a way to destroy the bond between her and Sloane.

Arty grinned at her and slid his eyes down her body. “We can do more than talk, sugar.”

Normally, she would have flirted right back, but she was not in the mood. “I have a break in half an hour, could we talk at your table?”

Arty was a lech, but he wasn’t stupid. He caught her serious tone and sobered. “This regular human stuff or fae stuff.”

“Fae stuff,” she said, wishing with everything she had that it was regular human stuff.

He appeared to be unsurprised, but the lights were dim, so she couldn’t be sure. “Come to my place after you get off work.” He slipped her a card and she tucked it into her apron.

“Are you sure we can’t just talk here?” Liza was already dead on her feet and she wasn’t sure she’d make it that late.

He eyed her, his expression going from annoyed to understanding in seconds. “Sorry, sugar, we have to talk at my place. I’ll send a car to pick you up, so you don’t have to hoof it.”

Liza wanted to refuse the favor, but she knew she’d never make it otherwise. “Thank you, Arty. I’ll get Jo to put your meal on my tab.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure I can come up with a better way for you to repay me.”

Liza smiled and tried to appear unaffected, but Arty’s tone and expression were serious, and she wasn’t sure she was going to like what he asked in return. She almost refused the car, but she could tell by the set of Arty’s mouth and the hard glint in his eyes that he wasn’t interested in negotiating.

She fell into the car when it picked her up at midnight. The restaurant had been unusually busy and they’d stayed open until after ten, so that by the time everything was cleaned and the money was counted, Liza was bleary-eyed with exhaustion.

The driver didn’t say a word to her and she worried, for a moment, that it wasn’t Arty’s car. Then she sunk into the plush seats and decided she didn’t care. When hot air blasted her in the face, she awoke with a start to find the car stopped and her door open. She rubbed her eyes and saw the driver politely waiting for her to wake up on her own. She stretched and dragged herself out of the car. She stood on the driveway and looked up and up and up at the enormous mansion before her. She’d seen the place countless times and had always wondered who lived there, but she would never have pegged Arty as the dude. She knew he was loaded, and could afford a car and a driver, but she’d had no idea… Maybe she should have been more willing to give in to Arty’s flirtatious advances. She could have had a real sugar daddy. She laughed at the idea, ignoring the weird look she got from the driver and walked up to the front door.

The ornately carved wooden door opened as soon as she reached the top step and a gorgeous man, with the strong, chiseled face of a god and pale pink wings that fluttered on his back, greeted her. The top of his head only came to her waist, but he fluttered up until he was eye to eye with her. He wore a suit that had been tailored to fit him perfectly and to accommodate his wings. “Please follow me,” he said in a soft, but masculine voice. Liza followed him, and had to bite her lip not to compliment him on the rearview he provided as he led her down the hall, his ass at her eye level. She had gone from feeling tired to feeling a bit punch drunk.

She sobered quickly when they entered a study lit by candles and lanterns and she saw the man behind the desk. He had horns like Arty and he looked like Arty, if Arty were fifty years younger. Arty fifty years younger was not hard on the eyes, especially since his white dress shirt was unbuttoned to reveal an expanse of well-muscled chest. Liza took a step back, but the fairy-butler had left, closing the door behind her. “Please, tell me you’re Arty’s grandson.”

The man behind the desk shook his head. “No. Sorry, sweets. People expect me to be old out there in the real world, so I make myself look old.” He chuckled. “Of course to them I’m ancient. I’m one-hundred and fifty years old, but since the average satyr lives to age five-hundred I’m very much in my prime.” He studied her reaction in the dim light. “Why do you look disgusted? Most women find me attractive.”

“You pinched my ass, you pervert. I thought you were a lonely old man, so I didn’t slap you. Now, I realize I should have. And the things you said about my… Ew, what is wrong with you?”

He shrugged, his expression amused. “You can’t expect me not to take advantage of the liberties allowed an old man, can you?”

“But you said I can see through glamour. I saw your horns, so why didn’t I see you as you are?”

“The glamour to hide the horns is a simple magic all the fae use to hide themselves in the human world. What I use to make myself look old is much more complex. You would have had to try to see through my aging glamour and, since you were unaware of it, you didn’t. Very few have the ability to see through the more complex glamours, and we don’t yet know if you have that ability.”

“Huh,” she said. “You’re a jerk.”

He laughed loud and long at that, and she resisted the urge to reach across the desk and throttle him. “Not the best way to start a conversation when you’re the one who requested a favor,” he said, sobering quickly. “Why don’t we go speak somewhere more comfortable?” He waved a hand and the wall to her right slid open revealing a roaring fire, a single loveseat covered in a leopard print material, and a king-size bed, with a leopard print bedspread, behind the loveseat.

“I’m fine right here, thanks.”

He shrugged, waved his hand again and watched as the love nest vanished. “What is it that I can do for you, Liza, since it seems you won’t let me do anything to you?”

She did her best to suppress the shudder that threatened to overtake her as she imagined his hands on her. Good-looking or not, he was a pervert who’d taken advantage of her sympathy for an old, lonely man. “What do you know about something called a bond?”

Arty leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. The stretched out length of him before her, his gaze hot, made her forget for a moment that he disgusted her. Instead of feeling attracted to him, she thought of Sloane and wished he was there before her, stretched out like Arty. What the hell was wrong with her? She had no commitment to Sloane, and Arty was a good-looking man who wanted her, even if he might be a jerk. She focused on Arty and tried to feel something for him. He dropped his hands and leaned forward on the desk. “You know, I usually don’t have to work very hard to seduce a woman once I have her in this room, but you aren’t interested are you?”

She wanted to be interested. Wanted to prove that Sloane didn’t have any hold over her. She really, really did, but she felt nothing. Shit, shit, and triple shit. “I didn’t come here to be seduced. I came to talk.”

“You can’t blame a man for trying,” Arty said. “I have… appetites, and it’s harder than you might think to convince women to come here and let me show them this side of myself.”

“How do you do that?”

“Old Arty excuses himself and his grandson comes out to play.”

“Why not just go out in public as Arty’s grandson?”

He sneered. “Because this is a small town and people remember that Arty was never married and never had any children. I should move, but I like it here. So I’ve damned myself.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? In all the commotion with the climate crisis Arty’s grandson couldn’t have just shown up and taken over? I doubt anyone believes you’ve lived a celibate life, so it wouldn’t be difficult to convince them.”

He smiled. “Perhaps, I just enjoy the game.”

She tried to bite back her grimace, but wasn’t sure she succeeded. “And the women you bring here, they don’t tell anyone about Arty’s grandson?”

“They’re mostly tourists, or I fog their memory so they think they just came here and talked with Old Arty.”

“That’s…” She swallowed hard to prevent bile from rising. “That’s disgusting.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has fun, and no one gets hurt. What’s the harm?”

“You erase their memories. You don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“As much as I’m enjoying this moral debate, sweet cheeks, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

She was no longer sure she wanted advice from Arty, but she didn’t have any other options. Her mother, father, and sister had vanished and no one seemed to have any idea where they were or how to reach them. And she didn’t know any other fae. Except for Sloane’s partner, Fulsom, and talking to him was sketchier than talking to Arty. “I need to know about some bond thing that happens between fae when they sleep together.”

He studied her, his gaze distant. “In my experience, the fae are no more inclined toward bondage games than humans.”

She pushed the chair back and stood. “You know what, I’m done. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

Arty laughed as she turned and stalked out.

“Wait, Liza. I’m sorry. I’ll behave, I promise.”

His tone had changed to a level of serious she’d never heard from him before. She turned and walked back to her seat, but didn’t sit.

“Please forgive me. I know a good deal about bonds between fae. I can help you.”

She sat, desperation overriding her better judgment. “What do you know?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you know first?”

When she’d decided to speak to Arty about the bond thing, she’d planned to tell him the whole story. But young Arty was an asshole and she no longer wished to share. “No,” she said. “I’d rather not.”

He sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Won’t you ever forgive me, Liza? It is in my nature to seduce women and to tease and play games. I am really not a bad person.”

“So you were joking about sleeping with women and then making them forget it ever happened?”

He looked confused. He had no idea why such a thing would be considered bad. “No. I do that.”

She’d never been one to hold onto a grudge. “Fine, I’m willing to call a truce, if you don’t try any of your tricks on me and you promise to stop erasing women’s memories.”

“The first I can promise, but not the second.”

It was worth a shot. “Fine. I forgive you. I slept with a fae and now I’m sort of… stalker-level obsessed with him.”

Arty’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have enough fae blood for that to happen.”

“Yeah, well, it did.”

“So why are you here? Why aren’t you with your mate?”

She sputtered. “My what?”

Arty’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, I see. You’re one of those feminists who wants to be independent from a man.”

She raised her eyes skyward, wondering how the hell she got herself into these situations. “I’d just like to not think about him every second of every day. I’d like to not feel like my heart is exploding because I want to see him so bad it hurts. I’d like to not want to rip his clothes off when I see him.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Arty said, taking a drinking of some dark liquid. “Does he not also feel the pull of the bond?”

“He feels it.”

Arty’s brow wrinkled. “Then why are you here?”

“I sent him away. I told him I don’t feel it.”

“You lied to your mate?”

His accusation stung, and when Liza felt guilty she got defensive and angry. It wasn’t one of her better traits. “He’s not my mate! He’s just some guy I slept with.”

“You don’t like him?”

“He’s okay.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she said, her eyes going wide in shock and anger. “He would never hurt me. He’s surprisingly gentle for such a big guy, and he’s got the… but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if he’s Prince Charming. I don’t want to feel this way.”

Arty’s expression softened and he sighed. He took a deep breath and young Arty was replaced by old Arty. Even though she knew it was fake, the glamour relaxed her. “Sweetheart, the mating bond is a gift. It is extremely rare and happens between only one in a thousand fae couples. You should be happy. You have met your soul mate, the other half of yourself, and you never have to be alone again,”

Her vision tunneled and the room spun a little bit. “I like being alone sometimes. I don’t want this bond. Can you tell me how to make it go away?”

He muttered to himself, then chuckled. “I’m so very tempted to tell you that to break the bond you must let me bring you to orgasm until you no longer feel the pull, but we are friends, so I will not lie to you. There is no way to break the bond other than death.”

She dropped her head in her hands and tried to hold back the tears. A gentle hand on her shoulder, Arty’s lecherous hand on her shoulder, helped to distract her. She sat up and pushed him away. “I can’t live like this.”

“It gets better,” he said. “Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never been blessed with such a bond, but I’ve heard that as long as you stay close to your mate and satisfy the urges, the pull gets less demanding over time.”

“Great.” She was pretty sure she was going to throw up all over his hooves. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“You could kill him, but that would likely destroy you as well.”

“I can’t kill him… Wait, what do you mean it would kill me, too?”

He sat down in the chair next to her. “You’re bonded at a cellular level. If he dies, your body and your mind will suffer. You are so connected to him that his loss would cause an ache a thousand times worse than what you feel now, and if you survived that, it’s likely your body would begin to decay and deconstruct with the loss of your connection. Of course, the longer you’re bonded the more likely that becomes. If your bond is only recently discovered, you could very probably survive his death.”

“Please tell me you just made that up as part of some elaborate scheme to get into my pants.”

He just stared at her for thirty seconds, she counted, then shook his head. “Nope, I can’t think of a single way what I just told you would convince you to take your pants off, and believe me I can be incredibly creative when it comes to getting women’s pants off.”

She took a few deep breaths to get control of herself. “Okay, so I’m now irrevocably bonded to some man I barely know and if he dies, I might die, too? Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You slept with a guy you barely knew? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl. If I’d known I would have…” He looked longingly at the wall that hid his love shack.

“Focus, Arty. You lost your shot with me. Please, tell me…” What she’d just said sunk in. “Oh, my god, are you saying he’s the last man I’m ever going to want to sleep with? I’m really never going to feel attracted to any other man?” Her chest felt tight. “Bring young Arty back.”

He obliged and she looked him over. “Nothing. I feel nothing. Kiss me.”

He leaned in and put his lips to hers, he nipped and nuzzled, he pushed her lips apart with his tongue and expertly seduced her mouth, and she felt nothing. He leaned back, looking quite pleased with himself, which only pissed her off more.

“I felt nothing, Arty. Zero attraction or desire. So why do you look so fucking smug?”

“You’re a very good kisser, and I’m hoping you’ll ask me to test the bond by fucking you.”

She shivered, feeling nothing but disgust at the idea of another man’s hands on her. In fact, Arty’s kiss had only made her longing for Sloane more intense. “Bring old Arty back, right now!”

Old Arty reappeared and Liza leaned back in her chair. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening. I’m young. I have my whole life ahead of me. A lot of potential good-looking men in my future. I’m not ready for this.” Even as she mourned the loss of future sex, she couldn’t work up any real sadness. All she could think of was Sloane. She didn’t want any of those imaginary lovers. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Arty cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea what I would give to trade places with you?”

She smirked at him and gestured toward his den of iniquity. “And give up all of this?”

“It’s a lonely life, sugar. Don’t ignore the gift you’ve been given. Love this man and let him love you. The bond links you in many, many ways and it will help you both to be more powerful and to achieve more than you ever could have alone.”

That all sounded very good, but she couldn’t shake the fear that was surging through her, threatening to leave her a quaking, stammering mess. “Is that the way it always works? Does the bond ever make someone lose sight of everything else? Even their own children? Even good sense? Does the bond ever lead a person to follow her mate down the wrong path to her own detriment?”

Thankfully, Arty seemed to take her question seriously. “I have known a very few bonded couples, and I have never seen the bond do anything but enhance their relationship with others and the rest of the world. I have never known it to be anything but a gift, but I suppose it could go the other way. Though what you speak of sounds more like a dangerous human obsession than a true bond.”

“But it’s possible?”

He frowned, but nodded. “Anything’s possible.”

She felt so very, very tired. “Thank you, Arty. Your next meal’s on me.”

He shook his head. “The first rule of fae is to never, ever thank them for anything. You will now owe me two favors, instead of the one we’d agreed upon.”

She remembered Sloane stopping her from thanking Mellita, and she wished he’d explained why he’d done that and saved her from owing Arty anything. “What kind of favors are we talking about?” she asked, unable to keep her gaze from sliding toward his pleasure nest.

“Not the kind you’re thinking. I’ll let you know when it’s time for them to be called in.”

“Good night, Arty. I’ll see you around.”

“My driver will take you home.”

“Tha – Good night.”

“Liza, it’s five in the morning,” Ellison said, when he answered the door. She should have gone home and gotten some sleep, but she knew nothing would be okay until she’d talked to her best friend.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just really need to talk to you. Is Marcy here?”

He nodded. “She’s sleeping. Come in. What’s wrong?”

She sat down next to him on the couch. He looked adorable in his ratty blue robe, his hair mussed from sleep, sheet creases on his cheek. “I love you, Ellison, you know that right?”

“Li, what’s going on? You’re starting to scare me.”

“Have you ever heard of a bond between fae? A romantic bond?”

He shrugged. “Sure, it’s really rare, though.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not that rare. Rice and I are bonded.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, El. I’m scared…” The tears started then. “I’m scared I’ll be like her. That my bond with him will eclipse everything else in my life, even good sense.”

He pulled her in tight for a hug. “You are not your mother. You are my wonderful, smart, sweet, caring Liza and nothing is ever going to change that.”

She rested on his shoulder for several long minutes. “I need you to promise me, Ellison. Promise me if you ever see me doing something stupid or ignoring the other people in my life, you’ll tell me? Promise me you’ll talk some sense into me?”

“I promise, Li. I’ll hold your head under water until you see sense. But it won’t be necessary. You are not your mother.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sweetie. Are you going to see him?”

“Yeah. I have to. Being away from him is making me crazy. I hate it, but ignoring it is only going to make it worse.” She’d have to convince Reynolds to let her have the morning off, but considering that Reynolds needed her for her dream, she thought they could reach an agreement.

“When you get back, I’m going to want to meet him. Bond or not, if I don’t approve, he’s out.”

“Of course.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

*SLOANE*

Sloane leaned against the wall in the shifter-owned bar, waiting for Moon. They’d been watching the pack house and seen nothing out of place, but the local police in Greenville just kept getting more and more calls about wolf sightings. Since Moon was in town working in the bar, Reynolds had sent Sloane there to talk to him. Even at seven in the morning, the bar was open, serving breakfast to the few shifters who stopped in before work.

Sloane was annoyed and pissed off, because he suspected Moon was doing everything he could to find the rogues and that Sloane, Fulsom, and the other two agents on the case were just wasting time to make the government feel like they were doing something about the wolves. There wasn’t an agent, fae or otherwise, who wanted to face off against a pack of rogue wolves, and Moon knew it as well as everyone else.

Sloane didn’t have to go far to dig up anger, but right behind it was a hurt he knew was irrational. It wasn’t Liza’s fault she didn’t feel the bond, and he could understand how crazy it must have sounded to her. He could even understand that she would have felt like he was pushing too hard when he sent her flowers and called her roommate and showed up on her doorstep all in the same day. He probably seemed completely unhinged to her. He seemed completely batshit crazy to himself.

It was taking everything he had to stay in that bar, to not look at his phone to see if she’d called, to focus on his job and not think about her smooth, dark hair and big, brown eyes. He had to get his shit together. He was acting like a moony sixteen-year-old girl.

He’d turned to the bar, thinking a drink might be just what he needed, screw policy, when a hand gently caressed his neck. His first thought was of Liza, and then he remembered that she didn’t feel the bond and had made it clear she didn’t want him.

He shifted to meet the emerald green eyes of a female wolf, one he’d never met before, in a halter dress that clung to her curves. She smiled, and part of him hated her for not being Liza, but another part of him fully appreciated her beauty and, even though no part of his body responded when she pressed herself against him, he wanted so badly to want someone other than Liza that he didn’t push her away.

She wasn’t who he wanted, but he was going to go crazy if he didn’t do something about the bond. He had to get Liza out of his head, and maybe kissing another woman would do it. He knew wolves were trouble and he knew he should back away, but when she pressed her lips to his, he grabbed her waist, pulled her tighter against him, and kissed her back. He felt nothing. She was a good kisser, her body felt warm against him, but he felt no more attraction than that, and he only wanted Liza more. When she stuck her tongue in his mouth, he didn’t pull away even though he wanted to, he had to give the test his full effort, after all. But, still, he felt nothing. And feeling nothing, he heard the gasp.

Sloane pulled away and peeled the woman off him. He saw Liza in the doorway of the nearly empty bar, watching him, and his first thought was a thrill of joy that she was there, that she’d come to see him. Then, he realized what she’d seen and he knew he was in trouble.

The voluptuous wolf, her hands still on his waist, chuckled. “Oh, yeah. There’s someone here to see you. I couldn’t let her in the bar, so I came to give you the message myself. Did I forget to mention that?” Non-shifters weren’t allowed in the bar, unless they were a friend, lover, or relation of a shifter.

“You bastard,” Liza said, her voice low, her hands clenched in fists. The door was a good ten feet from where he stood, but he could hear every word. He crossed to her, his feet moving before his brain agreed.

“Liza, please, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“So you weren’t just kissing this half-naked bimbo? Was that a glamour of some sort?”

“No. I was kissing her, but I didn’t want to be kissing her. I wanted to be kissing you…” He stepped up to her, close enough to touch her, his hands aching to reach out.

“Is that why you slept with her last night, too?”

“What? No? I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Save your lies for someone who cares, Rice. I’m done with you.”

Her words terrified him, but also pissed him off. “You made it very clear you didn’t want me. You didn’t feel the bond. You were done with me long before I kissed…” He looked at the wolf and she smiled at him sweetly.

“Hetty,” she said, and licked her lips. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

“Argh,” Liza growled. She took a step forward, then visibly restrained herself. “You don’t even know her name?”

“No, like I said, I just kissed her, that’s all.”

“You’re an asshole and a liar. I can’t believe I ever fell for your stupid story about a bond. I actually felt bad for you and it was all some line.”

“It wasn’t a line.”

“Then why the hell were you kissing her? You claim you’ve got some bond to me and you sleep with the first girl you see?”

She turned to storm out to the parking lot and all he saw was red. He was angry at himself, he was angry at Hetty, and he was angry at Liza for not even giving him a chance to explain. When he got really angry, he got calm, so he sounded laid-back and apathetic when he said, “Well, you weren’t here, were you, darling? You know what they say, if you can’t love the one you want…”

She froze. She just stood there and didn’t move for a full thirty seconds. “Love the one you’re with,” she said, her voice breaking. Then she turned and gave him a slow, warm smile that made his heart race and his blood move from his head to other, more important parts of his body. She walked back toward him, her hips swaying. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in, her breath hot on his face, then she kneed him fast and hard in the balls. He fell to the ground and gasped for air, tears stinging his eyes as he watched her walk away.

Once he’d gotten his breath, he ran after her, but she was gone. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Ellison.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Ellison said, when he picked up. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“I haven’t said anything, yet.”

“I know Liza was on her way to see you, and she was going to put herself out there for you. The fact that you’re calling now means you screwed up, which means you hurt her, which means I’m going to have to kill you. Slowly. With dull objects.”

Sloane’s balls were still aching and the idea of more pain made him very glad he wasn’t anywhere near Ellison. “I just need her phone number. She was here. You know she wanted to talk to me. Please give me her number.”

“She’s not there now, which makes me think you did something. If she wanted to talk to you she’d still be there. Sorry, man, she’s my best friend. I can’t help you.”

“Fine, yes. I screwed up. She caught me kissing another woman, a wolf, but she’d pretty much told me to fuck off so I don’t understand why she was so mad.”

“Why the hell were you kissing another woman? It had been less than twenty-four hours since Liza told you to fuck off. Were you really going to give up on her that easily?”

Shit, shit, Sloane knew he was an asshole. Ellison was right. “It’s the fucking bond, man. All I can think about is Liza, and I can’t see straight. I thought if I kissed someone else I could get her out of my head and I could focus.”

“Did it work?”

Sloane slumped. “No, the kiss only made me want Liza more. And now she’s never going to speak to me again.”

“Hold on,” Ellison said. “Liza’s calling.”

Sloane paced in the parking lot, the hot sun beating down on him, while Ellison talked to Liza. He could imagine all the nice things she was saying about him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Ellison hung up on him, but he came back, roaring mad. “You slept with the wolf?”

“No. Give me some credit. You know wolves, man. They love causing trouble. Hetty said that to Liza to get her riled up. She kissed me when she knew Liza was watching to stir things up.”

“I believe you, but I can’t take your side on this, dude. You screwed up majorly.”

“But if she’d just listen. I could explain.”

“It’s not just the kiss, it’s what you said.”

Sloane racked his brain trying to figure out what he said. “I was mad, but I don’t remember saying anything too horrible.”

“The song lyrics, asshole. I mean you either have the worst luck in the world, or you are a flaming idiot. What you said to her was the worst possible thing you could have ever said.”

“I don’t understand—” Sloane had just said the first thing he’d thought of, probably because a re-make of a classic song with those lyrics was currently being overplayed on the radio.

“And I’m not going to explain it. It’s not my story to tell. I’m just saying, if you ever want to see her again, you are going to have to do some major bowing and scraping. Major. It wouldn’t hurt to send me some flowers, too. You made my girl cry and that’s pissed me off.”

Sloane’s heart stuttered. He’d made her cry? He’d hurt her and now she was alone and he couldn’t do anything about it. She’d been willing to talk to him, to try to work something out and he’d blown it. It wasn’t in his nature to bow and scrape, but he had to admit he’d screwed up and he would own that and make it up to her, if he could. “I’ll do whatever it takes. For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. The idea of losing her, I just can’t…”

“You don’t have to tell me, I get it. The only reason I’m still talking to you is because I get it. Figure out what you want, dude, and make it happen, or you will lose her and I won’t help you out again.” Ellison hung up and Sloane dropped to sit on the porch step where he’d been standing. Ellison was right, he needed to figure out what he wanted. He needed to get his own head straight, before he could talk to Liza.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

*LIZA*

When Liza got back to Marcy’s she was wired. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and she’d drunk enough coffee to fill a swimming pool. On top of that, her whole body was antsy, like it wanted to turn around, get on the bus, and drive back to Sloane, whether her brain wanted to or not.

There was a vase of flowers on the doorstep and she almost kicked it down the hall, but she checked the note first, to make sure they weren’t for Marcy. She saw her name and Sloane’s name, but she didn’t read the note. She took the flowers back outside to the dumpster next to the building and pitched them in. Hearing the glass shatter was satisfying on several levels.

She didn’t feel like facing Reynolds and explaining why she had no dream to report on, and she already had the day off, so she went inside and made a list of every salvage yard in the area. She took it and her bag, filled with a few library books about ocean drilling, down to the bus stop.

She spent the next three hours visiting parts of the city she’d never had any reason or desire to visit before and discovering that no one had any old ocean drills lying around. Then she expanded her search to salvage yards in the surrounding towns, but still nothing. It had been ten years since the last ocean drilling had ended, but no one had forgotten the devastation humans had wreaked on the planet. How could they when everyone still lived on energy rations? Ten years and the carbon levels in the atmosphere were still dangerously high, the planet still warmer than it had ever been, and parts of the world that humans had once inhabited were still uninhabitable. Scientists claimed that the energy rationing and the complete end to pollution would allow the carbon content of the atmosphere to lessen, but the change wasn’t occurring as quickly as they or anyone else had predicted. Many people were afraid to live close to the oceans, despite the energy restrictions and attempts to shore up the coastlines. Hurricane season grew fiercer every year and more and more of the coast was lost. Tourists vacationed in Greenville, but more and more locals moved away every year. More businesses shuttered and even enrollment at the college was dropping.

Liza supposed that made the seaside a perfect place for fae to settle – fewer humans could only mean fewer questions.

The bus let her off three blocks from a salvage yard on the outskirts of the city, practically in the country. She might not have found the salvage yard at all, but the guy running the salvage yard in Winterville had suggested it. She hadn’t found it in her research.

There was no sidewalk to take her safely to the fenced in, gravel-lined junkyard, so she walked down the street as the late afternoon sky darkened to evening. The houses were run-down, looking barely inhabitable, but there were people on their stoops, chatting and laughing, babies screaming, and kids running around playing. She walked quickly, making eye contact with no one. She was nervous and she hated herself for it. She’d heard stories about what happened in bad neighborhoods and she’d always avoided them. Her family had been solidly middle class and she’d attended schools where most of the kids came from middle or upper class families. Her experience with the poor was nonexistent and, though she regretted that, she just wanted to get to the scrapyard, get the information she needed, and get home for some take out.

At the scrapyard office, she met an older woman, missing most of her teeth, with the voice of a lifetime smoker. She laughed when Liza asked about the ocean drills. “Ocean destroyers what we call them. What you want with that filth?”

Liza had worked out her story, but the woman’s brash tone sent it right out of her head. She took a deep breath to center herself, and it came back to her. “I’m a graduate student at the college and I’m doing a project on ocean drilling. Thought it might help to see the parts in person.”

The woman narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “You want something like that, you got to go farther out. Vandyke industries was the factory that built those drills and they’re some two hours from here. If there was anything to be found it’d be there.”

Liza nodded, feeling defeated, and headed back toward the bus stop. The evening was dim, but warm and humid, the street still noisy with life. People laughing and parents shouting for kids to come in for dinner. She could smell the rich scents of multiple dinners and her stomach rumbled. It was time to go home. She’d get something to eat and look into Vandyke industries, and finally go to sleep and get the dream over with. She was planning what to have for dinner and didn’t see the kid until she was on the ground, her lip throbbing. She cursed herself, silently, for not paying attention to her surroundings, for forgetting for a moment where she was.

The kid peered down at her, a wide sneer on his face. He didn’t look older than fourteen, with wide blue eyes that filled most of his face and a mouthful of pointy teeth. He tugged on her bag and she let go, because there was nothing in it worth fighting over. And because she had no interest in hurting a kid. Getting mugged seemed like the appropriate end to the day she’d had.

The kid disappeared and she heard the pounding of footsteps and a shout of triumph. She pulled herself to her feet, every part of her body responding with pain. Getting knocked flat onto cement would do that to a person, she supposed. She limped to the bus stop, feeling shaky and scared. She looked around for the kid or more trouble, but the street was suddenly silent. She no longer had her phone, so she didn’t know what time it was, but the bus only showed up every half hour and she anticipated waiting for a while, in a neighborhood where a kid could mug a woman while everyone watched and did nothing.

A hand on her elbow made her spin away and drop into a defensive pose. She should have run, but she didn’t really have anywhere to go. An older man with dark skin, a full head of grey hair, and sparkling amber eyes smiled at her. “Shoulda used those instincts when Gerard hit you.”

“You know him? Tell me where to find him and I’ll do a better job.” She didn’t really have any intention of going after the kid for a beat-up bag, the five bucks she had in her wallet, and an old cell phone even if it was the second one she’d lost in two days, but her pride stung a bit. The first chance she got to actually use her self-defense training, and she failed.

The old man’s grin widened and he handed over her bag. “I’ve already spoken to him. There’s no need for violence.”

“Thank you. How did you…?” She looked around, expecting to see the kid peeking out from behind a tree, but there was only her and the old man on the street. Everyone else had gone inside, the interiors of their homes lit with warm light, while they took advantage of the three hours after dark that they got to use electricity.

The man stuck his hand out and Liza shook it, noticing for the first time that his skin had a slightly purple tinge to it. When she looked at his face again, she saw it was more elongated than she’d noticed before and his ears were pointed. “I’m Curtis. I apologize for the trouble. Can I walk you home?”

“You’re fae,” she said without thinking. He just looked so unique and beautiful and kind. She wanted to know more about him.

He dropped her hand like it was hot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth, then dropped it and started babbling. It wasn’t one of her finer moments, but the guy had just saved her purse and she’d insulted him for his trouble. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that, right? I just found out I’m fae like two days ago, and I’ve just started being able to tell when other people are fae and you… and I… I’ll shut up, now. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Why don’t you come in and have dinner? I can explain some of the finer points of being fae in this world.”

No matter how kind he seemed, going into a strange man’s house seemed like a really bad idea. “Thank you, but I haven’t slept in two days and I really need to get home.”

He nodded. “I understand. How about I buy you dinner at the diner up the street? You need to eat.”

“Why?” He looked a bit offended, so she tried to explain. “You seem really nice and I appreciate you saving my bag, but why do you want to buy me dinner? Why are you interested in talking to me at all?”

“Does an old man need a reason to buy a meal for a beautiful woman?”

She shook her head and studied him for a long moment. She wasn’t immune to flattery, she just viewed it as a method of manipulation.

He chuckled. “I take care of the people in this neighborhood and you’re in my neighborhood, so I feel obliged to offer you what wisdom I can. Us fae need to stick together.” His smile widened as Liza looked at him, not hiding her doubt. “Or I’m just a nosy old man, who thinks you’ve got an interesting story to tell.”

Logic and sense told her she should walk away, but instinct screamed at her to stay. She liked Curtis and she felt safe on that dark street with him. “Okay, how about I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours?”

He sucked his teeth for a moment, like he was really considering. “You’ll have to be sworn to secrecy.”

“I know how to keep a secret.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Somehow I doubt that, but let’s go talk, anyhow.”

He took Liza’s elbow and led her up the street to a diner that looked rather dingy and dirty on the outside, but was immaculate on the inside. “Hiya, Curtis,” a woman, with snakes in her hair and a name tag identifying her as Marie, said when they walked in. “You want your usual table.”

Curtis gave a regal nod and led Liza to a table for four in the back corner of the diner. “Order anything,” he said. “It’s all delicious. The cook was trained at Le Cordon Bleu, and won the James Beard Foundation award for best chef in the Southeast in 2058.”

“Then why’s he…” She stopped herself. There was something about Curtis that made her forget all of her tact.

“Why’s he working here?” Curtis said, his expression hardening just a bit. “He’s also a troll and, after he was registered, he was no longer allowed to work in five-star restaurants. So he came to me, and I helped him start this diner.”

Liza ordered a linguine with clam sauce and a salad, and Curtis ordered the catch of the day. While they waited for their food to come, Curtis told her about Gerard and his get rich quick schemes, mugging people being the latest in a long line of ideas.

“What he won’t understand and won’t accept is that he’s registered fae, so he’ll never be allowed to be rich.”

“Never be allowed?”

“Fae can’t go to college, so he’d have to work his way up in some company to have a shot, but fae aren’t allowed to hold jobs where they supervise more than five other employees, so he could work the hardest and be the smartest, but he’ll never have the income or the position to reflect that.”

Her appetite faded. “I suddenly don’t blame him for turning to crime.”

Curtis nodded. “It is understandable, but it’s not right. He must learn to make his own way, to get around their rules, until a better day comes.”

“A better day?” The food arrived, allowing Curtis to pretend he hadn’t heard the question. The food was so good it took Liza’s breath away. The two of them didn’t speak again until they’d cleared their plates.

“Oh my. Holy carbons. That was the best meal I’ve ever had. Thank you for bringing me here. I think I’ve just found my new favorite restaurant.”

“You’re welcome any time, but don’t bring humans with you. They aren’t too popular around here.”

“You don’t like humans.”

“Humans don’t like us. There’s a difference. We may have to live by their rules, but they kept Denan from having the career he could have had as a chef, so they don’t get to eat his food.”

“Makes sense,” Liza said.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but it is the way it is.” He leaned back in his seat, a toothpick magically appearing in his hand. He put the toothpick between his teeth and grinned. “Story time,” he said. “Being a gentleman, I will allow you to go first.”

Liza found the words pouring out of her. She didn’t hold anything back, even though a little voice in the back of her head was screaming at her not to tell him everything. When she was done, she slumped in her seat, out of breath.

“Sorry about that,” Curtis said.

“Sorry about what? I’m the one who seems to have verbal diarrhea.”

“No, sugar, that was the compulsion spell I put on you. It’s my first lesson to you, actually. Never, ever trust the fae.”

Liza knew she should be angry or hurt, but she was just curious. Her instinct told her she could trust Curtis, no matter what he said to her. She wondered if that was another spell. “You put a spell on me that made me tell you everything?”

He nodded.

She stared at him and readjusted her world view to accommodate this new trick of the fae. “Can I do that?”

He grinned and chomped on his toothpick. “I like you, child. Which is why I’m going to tell you my story. That’s another thing you should know about the fae, if we tell you we’re going to do something, we will do it, even if it kills us.”

“Is that some genetic trait? Will I have to do everything I say I’m going to do?”

“It’s the code we live by. We don’t have much left of our home world, and we hold onto honor and tradition as tight as we can. If you want to be truly fae, you will have to learn and live by the same code. But let me tell you my story first and then we can talk about your honor and your magical abilities.

“I am an elf,” he said, sitting up a bit straighter. “I was king of all the elves and a good many other of the fae when we all lived in Faedenhelm. Our land suffered more extremely from the pollution the humans created. No one is sure why, perhaps our land was more fragile or tied more closely to Earth than we realized, but it doesn’t matter why. Faedenhelm withered. Many of my friends and family died. We couldn’t adapt to the changes, most fae couldn’t, though there are a few ogres who did all right and still live over there. We evolve more quickly than humans, but it wasn’t fast enough. We had to leave and come to the land of humans, where we were forced to register ourselves in their systems and reduced to begging and scraping for everything we have. This neighborhood is mine and I take care of and rule over everyone who lives here. I protect them. If you come to live here, I will protect you.”

She wanted to understand what he was offering her, but even more than that, she wanted to know, “What was it like? To live in Faedenhelm?”

His mouth turned up at the corners and his gaze grew distant. He told her stories of music and dancing and laughter. Of a land so well-tended it fed every fae who lived on it and filled their days with the beauty of green growing things and wildlife that thrived. Elves are very tightly connected to the land and they did well and were happy when the land thrived, he told her. It sounded like a place she could fall in love with, and she felt his misery and his homesickness as her own. When he was finished, and she had polished off a piece of apple pie, there were tears in her eyes. “Will it ever heal?” she asked.

“If it does, it will not be in my lifetime,” he said. “I’m five hundred years old and the dying of my land took a toll on me. My father lived to be a thousand, but I’ll be lucky if I see seven hundred.”

So not in her lifetime, either. “Can you tell me about the magic? What can I do?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Fae don’t ever do anything for free. You say the humans are drilling in the ocean again. They are betraying whatever trust we had placed in them. You keep searching for the answers and share with me what you learn, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Liza was sure she’d be fired if Reynolds ever found out the deal she knew she was going to make with Curtis. “And what will you do with that information?”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’ll keep it to myself. I can promise you that much. Come see me again and I’ll tell you more of what you want to know, if you tell me what I want to know.”

“Why not just use another compulsion spell on me?”

He chuckled. “Oh, don’t think I won’t, if you aren’t open and honest with me. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

She liked Curtis’s honesty. She didn’t see how it could hurt to share what she learned with him, especially if she learned something that might help him and his friends. She hated the idea of people drilling into the ocean floor as much, if not more than, he did. “Okay, it’s a deal, but I don’t know how much I’ll actually be able to tell you. I’m new at this and I’m not even supposed to be investigating the drill.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He gave her a smile so sweet she forgot he was a powerful fae. He looked more like someone’s gentle grandfather. “It’s late. How will you get home?”

“I’ll take the bus.”

He nodded. “Then I will wait at the bus stop with you.”

It was after midnight by the time Liza got back to Marcy’s. She was bleary-eyed and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the man glaring at her from his seat in front of Marcy’s door. He looked so angry and she didn’t want to face him, she wanted to turn back around and walk away. Well, only part of her wanted to walk away, the other part wanted to wrap herself around him and kiss him. She pushed that desire down and glared back at him.

“What happened to your lip?” he asked, concern clouding his face. The anger didn’t leave, and she realized it wasn’t anger, it was fear and worry.

She touched her lip and felt the scab that had formed. “I got mugged. It’s fine,” she said, when his hands fisted and he looked behind her like her attacker might still be there. “I’m fine. I got my bag back, and a really nice elf bought me dinner.”

He scowled. “There’s no such thing as a nice elf.”

She was too tired to argue. She was too tired to stand, and she swayed a bit on her feet. Sloane was there instantly, his hands hot on her shoulders, steadying her. “Let me go,” she forced herself to say, though it was getting harder to remember why she didn’t want him to touch her.

He didn’t let go. “Look, Liza, I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am. I’m not even sure of everything I should be sorry for, but it doesn’t matter. I will do everything I can to make it up to you and make things right between us.”

“I kissed someone, too.”

He let go of her and she almost fell over. She used the forward momentum to move to Marcy’s door and let herself in. She slammed the door in his face and felt a little bit better.

She dropped her bag on the couch and headed to the bathroom. She was vaguely surprised he wasn’t pounding on the door, but she didn’t have the energy to think about it. She brushed her teeth, stripped out of her clothes, and pulled on the ratty t-shirt she wore to bed every night. She let herself out of the bathroom and moved, in the dark, to the couch. She could have lit candles, but she knew her way around the place even without light and she dropped onto the couch and prepared to snuggle down.

Except the couch was extra lumpy, and it moaned and moved. “God, you smell good,” Sloane breathed in her ear.

She melted against him for just a moment, before she reclaimed her senses and shot off the couch. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He lit the candle on the coffee table and smiled. “You didn’t lock the door.”

She sank back down on the couch next to him and dropped her head in her hands. She could have sat in the chair or the love seat, but she wanted to be near him, even as pissed as she was. She was too tired to fight it any more. “So you just walked in and took up residence on the couch?”

“I talked to Reynolds and she told me you’d touched a body for her yesterday. I figured you might not have dreamed, yet, and I wanted to be here when you did.”

“How do you know I didn’t dream, yet?”

“Because when I saw you this morning you looked like you hadn’t slept.”

She groaned. “I’m too tired for this. I really want to scream at you or maybe beat you up, but I don’t have the energy. Please, just get off my couch and let me sleep.”

“Don’t you sleep in the bed?”

“It’s Marcy’s bed.”

“But she’s not here, is she?” He looked around like she might pop out of the darkness.

Liza sighed. “It’s complicated. If I start sleeping in the bed, it’s like she’s already moved in with Ellison and she’s not ready for that, even though she’s over there every night. She just wants to know she has a bed to come home to.”

He shook his head. “Women.”

“Really? Is that the tone you want to take with me right now?” She glared at him and he held his hands up and shook his head. “Good answer. Now get off my couch. I want you out of the apartment and I’m going to be even angrier if you stay, but I’m too tired to stay awake to see which door you pick.” She dropped down onto the couch, pulled the blanket around her and lay there wide awake, staring at the ceiling. She was so tired and all she wanted to do was sleep, but her body was wired and overtired and she couldn’t settle.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

*SLOANE*

Sloane watched her from the chair next to the couch and wondered how he’d screwed up so badly. He was usually great with women, charming and understanding when he made the effort, which wasn’t often. Still, he was making the effort with Liza, or he wanted to, but his mind and his body kept betraying him. He wanted his hands and his mouth on her, to know that she was his, and then he’d feel better. He heard her sigh in the darkness and he knew she was still awake.

“She kissed me,” he said, and when Liza didn’t tell him to shut up, he went on. “She kissed me, and I missed you so much I couldn’t see straight. I only kissed her back to see if I could get you out of my system, but it didn’t work. It only made me miss you more, and then you were there, and you were so mad. I swear I didn’t sleep with her. I’d never even seen her before she attacked me in the kitchen.”

She shifted on the couch, but didn’t speak.

“I swear to you I will never kiss anyone other than you as long as we’re together.”

“We’re not together.”

“Then why do you care who I kiss?” he asked, tired of werewolf games and Liza’s denials and just physically exhausted. “I can’t stop thinking about you, or wanting you, every moment of every day. I want to be with you.”

“It’s not real. It’s just some stupid magical bond.”

“It is real. I liked you the first time I saw you.” He stopped. He didn’t want to lie to her, not now. “That’s not true. I was a little distracted the first time I saw you and I was still with Frankie. But every time after that, I’ve liked you more and more. You’re smart, and the bravest person I’ve ever met, and you throw yourself into everything you do with passion and determination. I want to be around you all the time. Bond or no bond, I’d feel the same.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to get to know you. Look, this bond isn’t going away, but my grandmother said if we fight it, it will only get worse. I already can’t work. I can’t go on like this. I’m just asking for you to give me a chance, to spend some time with me to see if maybe you want to be with me. This bond is going to drive me crazy, otherwise.”

“You’re a cheater.”

“I told you I didn’t sleep with Hetty.”

“It doesn’t matter. You said ‘love the one you’re with.’ That was my father’s philosophy word for word. Whether he just happened to be with his secretary at the office or some waitress he picked up after a business lunch, if my mother wasn’t by his side it was okay for him to cheat on her, because he couldn’t help but love the one he was with. He cheated on my mother over and over again, and she was so blind with love for him, that she let him. I never even saw her get angry.”

“I’m not your father. I’ve never cheated on any woman before. Not once.”

She kept talking like she hadn’t heard him. “I caught him once. I came home from school early, because I had a fever. My mother was out grocery shopping, and I found my father with his face in the lap of our next door neighbor, who was also married. They were so involved in what they were doing, they didn’t even see me walk in. He never knew what I’d seen and my mother never knew what he’d done, but I knew and I never forgave him. I promised myself I would never love a man the way my mother did. I would never be so consumed with love that I let him treat me like dirt.”

“Did he treat her like dirt?”

“What?” Her voice was laced with anger, but Sloane couldn’t let that stop him. If he backed down now, he’d lose her, and he was sick with fear that it was already too late. Of all of the stupid things for him to have said to her… He either had the worst luck, or he was doomed to failure in the relationship.

“Other than cheating on her, did he treat her like dirt?”

“It doesn’t matter how he acted the rest of the time. He cheated on her, he disrespected her, end of story.”

Sloane knew he should back away. He knew he was on shaky ground, but he couldn’t stop. “Since you won’t answer the question, I’m guessing he was pretty good to her, when he wasn’t cheating.” He saw her mouth drop open and he held up a hand. “I’m not saying it’s okay that he cheated. I’m just saying maybe she had an agreement with him, and she was okay with it. Some people have open relationships.”

“Is that what you’d like?”

“What?” Maybe he was too tired for this conversation, too. “God, no. If another man touches you, I’ll rip his hands off. It’s driving me crazy wondering who you kissed–”

“Arty.”

“Who? The old guy from the restaurant?”

“He’s not that old. For a faun. I went to talk to him about the bond, to see if it could be broken. It turns out the old guy image is his glamour to hide the fact that he still looks like he’s in his thirties.”

“Or the young guy image is the glamour. And he was so hot, you just had to kiss him?”

“No. I kissed him to see if I felt anything for him. To see if I could stop thinking about you.”

“And did you?”

“No. It only made me wish he was you. This fucking bond is making me crazy.”

“I thought you didn’t feel it.”

“I don’t.”

Sloane’s blood was already boiling, imagining her sucking face with a young Arty, but if there was one thing he hated it was being lied to. “You do. You’ve felt it all along and you let me think you didn’t. You let me think I was alone in this. You’re breaking my balls over kissing some wolf and you’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t… I needed time…”

But Sloane was already up. He headed for the open door he could make out in the dim light and slammed it behind him. He couldn’t believe he’d been planning to grovel, to beg her to understand, when she’d lied to him. She knew what she was doing to him and she’d done it anyway. He paced the floor in Marcy’s bedroom and ignored the knock and Liza’s voice. It hurt him to ignore her, but he knew if he tried to talk to her he’d say something he regretted. Again.

Of all the dumb luck, to use the same line her cheating father had given her mother. He’d just been feeling guilty and angry, and that stupid song they played at the gym over and over popped into his head. He growled and paced until he calmed down enough to feel sleepy, then he stripped and threw himself into Marcy’s bed. If Liza wanted to help her friend lie to herself by sleeping on the couch, that was her choice, but he was going to take full advantage of the pillow top mattress and warm duvet.

He was just drifting off, when he heard a soft mew and felt a weight land on the bed. Great. He’d locked himself in the room with the damn cat. The cat curled up next to his feet, a warm, vibrating heat and he drifted off to sleep to the sound of purring.

He woke to Liza’s screams, and whatever anger he’d felt when he’d laid down to sleep vanished. He vaulted out of the bed and ran to the living room, slamming face first into the door and tripping over a chair before he made it to her side. Somehow, the noise didn’t wake her. She’d stopped screaming and was whimpering in her sleep. He could see tears streaming down her face in the dim light of early morning. His whole body trembled with the need to reach out to her, to touch her and make her pain stop, but he knew if he did, the pain would be wasted. She had to finish the dream and get every clue she could.

Her eyes popped open, wild and panicked. She looked around, but it took her a moment to focus and see him. “It’s okay. I’m here,” he said. He saw the relief on her face when she recognized him, and he wondered that he could have ever been angry at her. He knew before she did that she was going to throw up, and he scooped her up in his arms and rushed her to the bathroom. He held her hair while she sobbed and puked into the toilet.

If he knew of someplace to take her where Reynolds could never find her or ask her to touch another body, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but he knew that place didn’t exist and, even if it did, Liza wouldn’t go as long as she thought she could get vengeance for the women who’d been killed. When Liza had emptied her stomach, and flushed it away, she turned and wrapped herself around him. He held her as she cried, and when she started laying kisses along his neck and collarbone, he remembered that he was naked and that he wanted her. He scooped her up again and carried her to Marcy’s room. She just kept kissing him, like it was the only thing keeping her alive, reminding her that she hadn’t died last night.

He let her go and she made a sound of displeasure, until he slid the t-shirt over her head, exposing her round, full breasts and her creamy skin. He wanted her so badly his whole body rang with need, but he forced himself to hold back and touched her and kissed her so that she felt every moment. She growled and grabbed his shoulders. “I need you inside me now.”

He wasn’t going to argue with the pain and the need in her eyes. He left her long enough to get a condom from his jeans pocket on the floor, and he didn’t waste any time putting it on or sliding himself in her. “Oh, god, you feel so good,” he said. She moaned and slid a hand between them, touching herself. He didn’t think it was possible for him to be any more turned on than he already was, but seeing her fingers on herself almost made him lose it right there. He stayed perfectly still and tried to think of something unsexy, like… like… shit, he couldn’t think at all with the show she was giving him.

“Please, Sloane. Please,” she said, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He pressed himself against her and looked into her eyes, driving into her with all the desire and longing he’d been trying to suppress. She met his eyes and asked for more. Begged him to go harder and faster, until he lost his mind. He was over the edge before he realized what was happening, and he looked down and saw that she was right there with him. They came together and he dropped against her, careful not to put his full weight on her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have lied. I was scared. But I shouldn’t have lied. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me,” he said, and he realized he meant it. He couldn’t imagine her ever doing anything he couldn’t forgive. “I’m sorry about kissing Hetty. I’ll never cheat on you. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. At least I’ll try never to do anything to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I kissed Arty. I won’t ever cheat on you, either. I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’ll try not to do it again.”

Her words brought him a happiness and peace like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He kissed her to thank her and found himself wanting her again. She was right there with him, just as ready as he was, and he let himself get lost in her, until she was all he saw and heard and felt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

*LIZA*

Liza lay in bed next to Sloane, feeling more satisfied and happier than she’d ever felt before, when reality started to creep back in. “I’m still mad at you.”

Sloane propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “No you’re not, but I am sorry, and I’ll keep apologizing for as long as it takes.”

“So we’re jumping into this with both feet. There’s not going to be a getting to know you, let’s date, allow me to woo you period.”

He smiled. “I didn’t think I was far enough out of the dog house for that to be a possibility.”

She was so comfortable and happy in his glow, that she had to dig deep to find her anger and her fear. “I’m not sure you are either, but I don’t think we have any choice. I just… I think we should be careful. We can’t let ourselves get so caught up in each other that we don’t notice anything else.”

“I promise you, Liza, I won’t let that happen to you. I’m not sure I understand what you’re so afraid of, though. I mean isn’t the guy the one who’s supposed to be terrified of commitment?”

“Yeah, what about that? Frankie said you’re a huge commitment-phobe.”

He grinned. “I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate. I’m a work-aholic and my job usually… pretty much always comes first, but I… I really like you, Liza, and I’m not afraid of this commitment. If it means I get to be around you all the time, I’m for it.”

Liza was almost positive he was full of it, and likely blinded by lust and good sex, but she didn’t have a reason to argue with him. “Fine, so we’re doing this. I’m not afraid of commitment in the general sense, I just… I see obsessive love as a very bad and a very dangerous thing. It made my mother blind to my father’s faults and it made her ignore her own children.”

“I won’t let that happen to you, I promise,” he said.

“As an involved party, I don’t trust you. But I have Ellison’s promise to look out for me, too, so I guess that’s the best I can hope for.” She could no longer resist not touching Sloane and she snuggled down and laid her face on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I guess we have to get up and go to work now.”

He sighed. “Not yet. I want to show you how I de-stress.”

Sloane walked Beauty while Liza showered, but distance from him didn’t give her the perspective she was hoping for. She missed him and she wanted his body against hers in the shower. She felt a bit panicky and anxious without him. Marcy’s building had water heaters with solar panels, so her shower was nice and warm, but she turned the tap to cold to cool off her desire. She really needed help if she was going to have any kind of life outside of Sloane. Then his large shadow darkened the room as he stepped into the shower with her, already naked and hard, and she forgot what she was worried about.

“Were you actually gone long enough for Beauty to do his business and get some exercise?” She asked, but she had already wrapped her arms around his shoulders and had no intention of letting him go.

“Yes to the first, and no to the second. I’ll make it up to him when we get back and take our second showers.”

“Second showers?”

He kissed her and she forgot the question.

Liza looked around at the gym and then looked at Sloane, her eyes wide. It wasn’t much bigger than Marcy’s apartment and it was crammed with free weights and Smith machines. One lonely treadmill was shoved in a back corner, next to a rack holding jump ropes and medicine balls. “Um, Sloane, you know I’m not a bodybuilder, right?”

He faced her, his grin contagious. They’d stopped by his place on the way over and he was in shorts and a t-shirt. Liza had on yoga pants and a tank-top. “This is my favorite place in the whole world and I wanted to bring my favorite person in the whole world to experience it.”

Her heart swelled at the idea of being his favorite person, and she shoved it back into place. He barely knew her. He was exaggerating. “I thought the ocean was your favorite place.”

“The ocean is my home. This is my favorite place.”

She shrugged, not understanding, but willing to concede the point.

“Look, this place seems really nice, but I’ve been working out at SPA and I’ve got to work out again today, probably. Isn’t it bad for me to work out too much?”

His shoulders slumped just a bit. “Yeah, you’re right. You don’t have to stay.”

She felt awful. “I love seeing your favorite place in the world. I love knowing more about you. Maybe I could spot you?”

His expression lightened. “Great. That would be great. Thank you.”

So Liza did what she could to spot Sloane. She couldn’t lift as much as him, but she didn’t need to be able to, she really just needed to be able to lift the little bit he could no longer manage at the end of a set. He was still pushing most of the weight, but Liza was able to help him get over the hump.

It wasn’t such a bad job, watching his muscles flex and pull and seeing his complete concentration. He really did lose himself and become more relaxed than she’d seen him before. She wondered why she didn’t have the same effect on him and then figured maybe it was because he was waiting for her to get mad and knee him in the balls again.

When he didn’t need her to spot him anymore, she just watched him, but after fifteen minutes, she got bored and walked on the treadmill. It was shiny and new and she suspected it didn’t get a whole lot of use.

“Don’t you ever do cardio?” she asked Sloane when he finally walked over.

He shrugged and smiled a lazy, easy smile. God, she could fall in love with laid-back Sloane. “That’s what circuit training is for.”

Liza scrunched up her nose in her “what?” expression, but his grin just widened.

“I jog sometimes. On the beach.”

And she pictured him shirtless, his sculpted calves kicking up sand. “Hmmm,” she said, like she didn’t care. “Ready to go?”

He nodded. “Wanna grab some lunch first? I told Reynolds we’d be in this afternoon.”

She gave him a long, slow up and down look. “Uh-huh, but I’d rather grab something else first.”

He laughed and followed her out of the gym.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

*SLOANE*

Fulsom glared at Sloane when he walked in. “What the hell are you so happy about?” He grumbled.

Sloane couldn’t stop smiling. He’d had a day of great sex, a good workout, and the best lunch date ever. He’d found himself wishing he could just stay with her like that forever. Reality sunk in, eventually, though, and Liza insisted they get back to work. As soon as they’d split, her to Reynolds and him to his desk, he’d felt the bond trying to pull him back to her. He fought it. If he followed her around like a puppy dog, she’d really freak out and she was already freaked enough. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“Maybe for those of us who take the morning off,” Fulsom said. “For me, it’s been a dark, dreary day.”

“My heart aches for you.”

“Yeah, asshole, well it’s going to be aching for yourself soon enough. Reynolds won’t let me drop the case on the wolves. Says it’s important to maintain appearances. We got another wolf sighting this morning. Moon isn’t taking care of it.”

Sloane slumped into his desk chair, his good mood fading. “Shit.”

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly. I’m considering burying the information, but even if I do someone else will pick up on it and then it’s our asses in the fire for missing it.”

Sloane nodded. “So I guess we’re heading back to the pack house.”

Fulsom groaned. “That’s what I was afraid of, but you and I both know that’s a lost cause. Moon will take care of it in his own sweet time. It just isn’t like him to let it go on so long.”

“You think he’s up to something.”

Fulsom nodded. “I think he’s just trying to see how far he can push us. Testing his limits. You know how he hates limits.”

Sloane nodded and picked up the phone. Gabriel answered on the second ring.

“Moon, listen, we got another wolf sighting call this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it. The case is closed.”

“So we can trust there will be no–”

“This is wolf business now. Stay out of it.” And Gabriel hung up on him. It warmed Sloane’s heart the way the supernatural community appreciated the work he did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

*LIZA*

Liza sat across from Reynolds and tried to focus on what she’d come there to do. Her mind kept flashing back to Sloane. Her body still ached for him and her mind was telling her to forget everything else and just go be with him. She pushed all of that down and looked up to see Reynolds staring at her, her eyes wide in question.

“I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted this morning.”

“I understand you’ve bonded with Rice,” Reynolds said, her smile predatory.

“What?” How did Reynolds know about that? How did she even know what it meant? Sloane had to ask his grandmother.

“We have a very talented river nymph, who is also an empath, on staff here and she told me all about it. She also told me that you will be more focused and efficient if you and Rice are permitted to be together at all times. I questioned the sense of you two being partners. What if one of you is in danger? But she said you would make excellent partners, because you two are highly compatible. I have no choice but to take her word for it. Would it make you feel better if I called Rice in here now?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” Liza said. She lied because she didn’t want to admit, even to herself, how much she needed and wanted him there. “I can do this.”

“You’re lying. You’re a good liar, but I’m highly trained to recognize liars. Just a moment.” She picked up the phone and spoke into it before Liza could argue. She hung up and smiled. “He’ll be right here. So,” she leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers together over her stomach. “How is he in bed? I’ve always found him a bit too well-muscled, if you know what I mean, but all of that power in the bed. I’m curious. Is it good? Or is he a bit rough?”

“Um, I don’t really think—”

“Is everything okay?” Sloane burst into the office, a wild look in his eyes, but he calmed when he focused on Liza staring at him.

“Everything’s fine,” Reynolds said, frowning. She was probably upset not to get an answer about Sloane’s sexual prowess. “Sit down. Mimi told me that you two are bonded and I understand you both will work better if you’re together. Liza seemed distracted so I thought it might help her to have you here.”

Sloane took Liza’s hand and squeezed it, but he didn’t look at her. “I’d like that information to be kept secret. If anyone ever discovers –”

Reynolds waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Of course I won’t tell anyone. We wouldn’t want someone to use it against you or us.”

Liza imagined how someone could hurt them with that knowledge and shuddered. Sloane let go of her hand and rubbed her arm.

“Okay, Liza, please tell me about your dream.”

Liza hated the word dream. It came nowhere near describing the reality of what she’d experienced. Nightmare wasn’t even a harsh enough word. “This dream was similar to the last. He took her, kept her blindfolded, and asked her questions while he hurt her. This time, though, I could hear more of the questions.”

“Why couldn’t you hear them last time?”

“I don’t know. This is only the fourth human death I’ve dreamed. If I had to guess I’d say the questions were more important to…”

“Lara.”

“The questions were more important to Lara. The other girl…” Liza couldn’t remember her name. She’d dreamed her death, and she couldn’t even remember her name. She panicked and then Sloane squeezed her arm and brought her back down. “She was focused on how much she would miss her boyfriend and on how sad he’d be.”

“Can you tell me the questions? Do you remember them?”

“Yes, but they don’t make any sense. He asked what she was, and why she wasn’t registered, and then he asked what she was looking for. He wanted to know about some kind of rock called a carraig.”

“A rock?”

“Yes, that’s all he said. Lara shut down. She didn’t even think the answers to his questions. But it doesn’t make sense. All the girls were registered. Right?”

Reynolds looked down at her desk. “Were there any other questions?”

Liza knew better than to push for an answer from Reynolds when she could probably get one from Sloane as soon as they were alone. “No. Just those same questions over and over… Wait, he did ask one more. Right before he k-killed her. He asked her why she hated humans.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said she loved humans, except the ones who were trying to control and kill her. She said humans preached peace, but too many were murderers like him. That made him really angry and he killed her. He strangled her. As she was dying, she was happy because he’d killed her before he’d gotten any answers from her.”

“Any more physical clues?”

“None. He knocked her out and when she came to, she was blindfolded under the bag. She couldn’t see anything.” Liza swallowed and tried to shake the woman’s death from her mind. “Can I ask? What kind of fae was she?”

Reynolds shuffled papers around on her desk. “That’s classified.”

Sloane sighed next to her. “Come on, Reynolds. After everything Liza’s gone through you can at least tell her about the woman she died with.”

“And what if that information influences the next dream?” Reynolds asked, glaring at Sloane. “No. If she wants to know after we’ve caught the killer I’ll give her access to the complete file, but not now.” Liza saw something in Reynolds’ eyes she never expected to see: genuine concern. Reynolds cared about the dead women, or she at least cared about catching their killer. Liza doubted she’d ever like Reynolds, but for the first time, she respected her.

“I don’t see how–” Sloane started.

“It’s fine,” Liza said. “I think she’s right. It’s better if I don’t know.”

Sloane’s sea-colored eyes met hers and she stopped breathing for a moment. With one look he conveyed trust and understanding and respect for her opinion. She had to look away to keep from throwing her arms around him in gratitude.

That gratitude vanished when they left Reynolds’ office and he strode down the hall next to her. “Where are you going?”

“Wherever you’re going. You heard Reynolds.”

“I’m going to my daily torture, I mean training session. There’s no reason for you to go. Don’t you have work to do?”

“You’re my partner now, I go where you go.”

“Hey, Simmons, you’re out of training. You work with Rice and Fulsom now, full-time.” Reynolds called after them. “Rice you make sure she knows how to shoot, and train her on procedure in the off hours.”

Sloane and Liza turned back toward Reynolds, but she’d already disappeared into her office. “She owns my free time now, too?”

Sloane grinned at her, and her knees went a bit weak. “No, sugar, I own your free time.”

Liza got over her swooning and considered smacking the smile off his face, but he was already walking away. She followed him, because the stupid bond wanted her to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

*SLOANE*

Sloane could hear Liza stomping along behind him and his smile faded. He knew he had pissed her off, and he knew he deserved her anger. Smart-ass comments were his defense mechanism and right now he needed to defend himself, because all he could think about doing was pressing her against the wall, sliding her skirt up over her hips, and wrapping those very fine, perfectly shaped legs around him. He had always liked sex, but around Liza it was all he could think about. The bond was happy having her near, but it would be happier with him inside her. God, he couldn’t take it. His eyes had connected with hers in Reynolds’ office and he’d gotten hard. He couldn’t imagine partnering with her and not being able to look at her too closely for fear of inappropriate bodily reactions.

He stopped in the narrow hall and she ran into his back and growled at him. That little growl sent tremors of desire through his body. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the men’s room around the corner. “Hey—” she said as some guy, pissing into a urinal said, “What the hell?”

“Don’t mind us,” Sloane said. He led Liza into a stall and locked the door behind them.

“What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” She looked disgusted and confused, and her nose was crinkled in the cutest way. He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

“I want you,” he said.

Her expression softened, and he knew everything would be okay. “And this was the best place you could find for this?”

“I’ll make it up to you, later.”

“God, I hope this bond gives us a break, soon. I can’t live like this.”

“If it doesn’t, we may have to run away together and find a deserted island where we can walk around naked all day and f—”

She kissed him, he suspected as much to shut him up as because she was overcome with passion and desire for him. She would probably claim the former, but he was betting it was mostly the latter. The bathroom stall wasn’t the most comfortable or the most romantic of spots for a tryst, but when Liza wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled on his hair while she kissed him, he forgot where they were. He spun them around so that Liza’s back was to the stall door and lifted her up until their bodies aligned in the necessary ways. She was so small he held her up easily, but there was nothing delicate or fragile about her, as she reminded him when the nibble she’d been giving his ear turned into a gentle bite.

That bite sent a surge of adrenaline and desire straight through him and took his breath for a moment. Liza smiled, and something in him loosened and eased. He couldn’t get over how lucky he was to have bonded with Liza, who was so strong and smart and sexy, and willing to have sex in a bathroom stall just because he asked. He just stared at her for a moment, until the heat in her eyes blazed and became a bit pleading, and he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

He set her down on her feet long enough to slip off her panties and put them in his pocket, they didn’t need to lay on the dirty bathroom floor. He teased her for a moment with his hand, she was so wet and ready for him that he moaned aloud while she reached for his pants. From one breath to the next, she was back in his arms, pressed between him and the stall door as he slid into her.

It felt so damn good to thrust into her, that he moved slow and pulled out inch by inch before he pushed hard back into her again. Liza groaned. “You feel so good,” she said. “I wish we could just do this all day, every day.”

He nodded his agreement, too overcome to talk. He moved slowly until neither of them could stand it anymore, and Liza was begging. He quickened his pace and they came together in a glorious explosion so intense, a rainbow of colors blinded Sloane. Liza lay on his chest for a moment, coming down slowly. He squeezed her tight against him and promised himself he would never do anything to push her away from him again. She kissed him gently under his ear and he almost started making promises and declarations. He knew Liza wasn’t ready for any of that, though, so he set her gently on her feet and helped her look like she hadn’t just had sex in a bathroom stall.

When they emerged from the bathroom, Sloane held onto Liza’s hand and she let him. There was no sense trying to hide their relationship. Reynolds knew about it and so did anyone within hearing distance of the men’s room. Liza glared at him and dropped his hand when he got a high five from Dougie in accounting. She pulled him into the nearest empty cubicle and pushed him against the wall. Her hands on his chest made his whole body thrum with desire, but the expression on her face told him she wasn’t looking for round two.

“Look,” she said. “Before you go getting any ideas, I’ve accepted that we can’t undo the bond and I’ll need to keep having sex with you, but I don’t even know you. We aren’t a couple, understand? We’re two people who need to have sex every few hours to keep from going crazy, but if you want anything more than that, you’re going to have to work for it. I expect to be wooed and I want to get to know you, and even then there are no guarantees.”

She looked so serious, but all he could focus on was her lips and how badly he wanted to lick and bite them, still puffy from being kissed by him.

“Are you laughing at me?”

He quickly swallowed the smile that had turned his mouth up without him realizing it and shook his head.

“Good, because don’t think for one second I won’t drop you and deal with the insanity the bond causes if you get out of line. And if you ever take advantage of the bond or use it to manipulate me, we will be done and there will be no coming back from that, understand?”

He nodded and used every ounce of strength he possessed not to kiss her. “Would you like to come over to my place tonight? I’ll cook you dinner and we can watch a movie.”

She studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “Okay. Yes, I can do that.” Then she walked away from him and he followed her, sure that he’d follow her anywhere, bond or no bond. He couldn’t even hate himself for that unquestioning devotion, because it felt so good being around her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

*LIZA*

Liza stomped down the hall, fueled by fear of her desire for Sloane and by the need to get away from him before she kissed him, or worse, in that cubicle. She made it about twenty steps before she remembered she had no idea where she was going and stopped to wait for him. She wanted to be near him, but she also wanted to be as far from him as possible, because she needed to think and it was so hard to think when he was close.

When she’d told Reynolds about her dream she’d remembered something she’d forgotten and that something felt important, but she couldn’t figure out why. She needed to figure it out, but when Sloane was near, all she could think about was how good he looked with his shirt off, how his touch sent tingles all over her body, how his mouth belonged on hers all the time. “Damn it,” she hissed at him. “I still can’t think straight. How are we going to survive?”

“Sex,” Sloane whispered back, his grin cocky. “Lots and lots of sex.”

And she hated him a little bit, because it all seemed so easy for him, and because he was right. The sex in the bathroom did help clear her head a little bit, and if she could just sit somewhere quiet and think, she could figure out what was bothering her about the dream.

Sloane took her to a cubicle and she recognized Fulsom at one of the three desks. He grinned and waved at her. “Sounds like you two have been having fun this morning.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but she’d never been easy to embarrass and her need for sex was practically a medical condition at this point, so she just smiled with her teeth bared. “Which desk is mine?”

Fulsom pointed and she sat down, dropping her bag at her feet and looking around for a pen. She thought writing down the dream might jog her memory. Unfortunately, there was no pen or pad on her desk. She turned to ask the men for help and saw them both staring at her. “What?”

“You working on some case we don’t know about? Or are you just planning to ignore us all morning?” Fulsom asked.

She supposed, in retrospect, her entrance had been a little rude. “I’m sorry. There’s something about my dream and I just can’t… I thought if I wrote it down, maybe…”

“Or you could talk it out with us,” Sloane said. He stood, leaning against his desk, one ankle over the other, his huge arms crossed over his chest, and she knew she’d hurt him somehow. Could have been lecturing him after sex, or stomping down the hall, or ignoring him. She wasn’t usually like this. She really wasn’t. “Yeah, okay, that might help,” she said, trying to be normal. Trying to treat Sloane like some really hot, smart, sweet guy who wanted her and would probably, maybe, want her even without the bond. She pushed down her fear and recounted her dream yet again.

There were tears in her eyes when she was done. “It was the voice. The voice sounded so familiar… And the shoes. Maybe someone I’ve waited on at the restaurant?”

Sloane pulled her in for a hug and she felt comforted despite herself. “It’ll come to you.”

She pushed him away. “I’ve got some information about the drill.” She filled them in on what she’d learned, and Sloane put in some calls to try to track down who might have taken or bought materials from the Vandyke manufacturing plant. Apparently, it had to be someone with money or power or both, since those materials were kept under lock and key.

“It will take most of the afternoon for us to hear back about the drill,” Sloane said. “Want to go over to the range and work on your shooting?”

Liza could think of other things she’d like to do with Sloane, but she pushed them out of her mind and followed him out to the range. She didn’t tell him she’d been going to the shooting range with her father since she was six. She didn’t tell him that she could shoot a fly off an apple from fifty paces back. She’d let him figure it out for himself.

When they got back to the office, the information they’d been waiting on had arrived, but it was after five and Fulsom and most of the other agents had gone home for the evening. “Didn’t expect people here to keep bankers’ hours,” Liza said.

“Hmm, yeah,” Sloane said, his attention on the papers in front of him. “Wait, what did you say?”

“Why isn’t any one here?”

He shrugged. “Slow day, I guess. Agents are either out on cases or they went home to enjoy their lives while they have the chance.”

“What did the report say?”

“The guy who bought the drill parts is your friend, Arty.”

“But he’s fae.”

Sloane shrugged. “Want to go talk to him tonight or leave it until tomorrow?”

Liza was having trouble focusing on anything but thoughts of heading back to Sloane’s place and ripping his clothes off, and that was exactly why she knew she needed to suck it up and get herself together. She couldn’t let the bond rule her or her decisions.

“We should go talk to him, but maybe before we do…” She stepped close to Sloane and kissed his neck. “If there’s really no one here…”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands woke her body to a hunger bordering on desperation and gave her the pleasure she needed to keep functioning long enough to go talk to Arty.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Liza,” Arty said. He looked like an elderly satyr, seated behind the same desk he’d sat at when Liza had visited him at home before. “Can’t say I wouldn’t be happier to see you without your boyfriend, but I’m glad you’ve accepted the bond.”

“He’s not—” Liza started to say Sloane wasn’t her boyfriend. It was just a reflex. She might be having sex with him every chance she got, but that was because of the freaky bond, not because she’d chosen him as a boyfriend.

Sloane cleared his throat to interrupt and glared at her. Liza pursed her lips and looked at Arty, who was watching them, his mouth quivering like he wanted to laugh. “Ah, so maybe accepted is too strong a word,” Arty said. “I’m always here, sweet Liza, if you get bored with this one.”

Liza felt Sloane tense next to her even without touching him, and she could feel his anger like heat. “We’re here to talk to you about an ocean drill,” she said. “Our records indicate you purchased it.”

Arty’s smile vanished. He stood and walked to a shelf that held several liquor bottles and glasses. “Drink?” he asked over his shoulder.

Both Sloane and Liza declined.

Arty sat down and took a swallow of a dark liquid. He leaned back and sighed. “Fae bourbon. The only stuff that gets me buzzed any more. I’ve got the last sixty bottles of it. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink?”

Liza was a bit shaky for more reasons than she could count, but she figured alcohol would only make it worse. “What did you buy the drill for, Arty?”

“It was my understanding that your boss, Reynolds is it? I thought Reynolds told you to drop this case.”

“We didn’t listen,” Sloane said. “Call me crazy, but I wasn’t too happy to just ignore dead mermaids.”

Arty nodded and took another drink. “It’s a pity you’ve decided to oppose me. We could have been great friends.”

Sloane growled and Liza put a hand on his arm to calm him. “I don’t know what you’re doing, so how can I oppose you?”

“You oppose me by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll give you a chance, though. You can take my word for it that you’re in way over your heads, and we can pretend you never saw the drill.”

Liza felt her blood go cold, but she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t walk away from this.”

“Those women you killed were my friends,” Sloane said.

“Their deaths were unfortunate, but they couldn’t be helped. Those mermaids were endangering a very important project.”

“Drilling for oil?” Liza asked.

Arty did smile then. “Do you ever wonder why there aren’t more solar panels or wind turbines built by your government? Or why the power of the sea hasn’t been harnessed to produce the electricity it could?” He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “I suspect it is because the climate change narrowed the gap between the rich and the poor, and the rich needed to feel they have something the poor don’t. If the rich can have their own personal solar panels they can have power for all night, possibly into the day.”

“So they limit the construction of solar panels and wind turbines to keep the poor in their place? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Another theory,” Arty continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “Is that they intend to resume their dirty, polluting methods of energy production as soon as people have forgotten about the climate catastrophe. By limiting the people’s energy usage, they make them yearn for the good old days when they could watch TV all night with every light in the house blazing.”

“I don’t think—”

“And then they’ll destroy this planet. Just as they destroyed Fairy.”

“So you’re helping them?”

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “No. I’m looking for an alternative. In fairy, there was a rock, composed of quartzite and feldspar and called righ carraig, which allowed us to light our homes and operate what little technology we used. It is clean, and I’ve reason to believe it can be found here.”

“So that’s what you’re drilling for? Why not go back to fairy and get it?”

“I won’t rape fairy for humans. But if we can find it here… It could prevent the destruction of your planet.”

“How noble. So why the secrecy? Why kill mermaids?”

Arty sniffed. “I’m tired of talking. Why don’t we play a game instead?” Liza didn’t like the twinkle in his eye or the way he said game.

“He can answer those questions at headquarters,” Sloane said. “He’s admitted to killing mermaids, we have to take him in.”

Arty shrugged and stood. “I’ll be happy to go anywhere with you two. You won’t be able to hold me, though. There’s nothing connecting me to the pirates who killed your friends and I have powerful friends of my own. I won’t spend even one minute in a cell.”

Together, Sloane and Liza walked Arty out and took him back to headquarters in a company car. He refused to say any more about the case, but he had a blast needling them about the bond. Arty was right, too, he was released by order of the president after only fifteen minutes. Liza left to get coffee and, when she got back, he was gone.

In his place, stood Reynolds, her eyes blazing. “I don’t appreciate getting called in here about a case that’s supposed to be closed.”

Sloane stood his ground against her. “We had a tip we couldn’t ignore.”

Reynolds turned her glare on Liza, like the whole mess was her fault. “Try to keep him in line,” she said between clenched teeth. “He’s one of my best agents. The only reason you aren’t both suspended right now, is because I called in a favor. I don’t like to call in favors, and I won’t do it again.”

With that, Reynolds stormed out of the interrogation room, slamming the door hard behind her.

“She went to bat for you?” Liza asked. “I didn’t even think she liked you.”

Rice ran a hand through his hair. “She’s a complex and confusing woman,” Rice said. “Who cares a great deal about the solve rate of this division, for reasons no one is quite sure about.” He took a step closer to Liza and wrapped his arms around her. “We need to be careful, though. We don’t want to draw too much negative attention to you when you’ve yet to fully prove your value as an agent.”

She pulled away from him. “So we just let the mermaid deaths go?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said we have to be careful.”

“And Arty? How’d he get out of here so fast anyway?”

“I’m not buying this story about the rock,” Sloane said, after he’d explained Arty’s absence.

“Why not?”

“If it’s some miracle, why keep it secret?”

Liza shrugged, tired and frustrated. They’d found the man responsible for the mermaids’ deaths and they couldn’t punish him. “Maybe because they haven’t found it, yet? Maybe they don’t want to get people’s hopes up?”

“My grandmother will know.” Sloane looked at his watch. “It’s too late to go see her tonight, but we can stop by in the morning.”

“Sounds good.” Liza rubbed her eyes, feeling tired and defeated. “Is this job always so rewarding?”

Sloane pulled Liza onto his lap and squeezed her tight. She’d always hated being babied, but she couldn’t deny the comfort she got from his arms around here. “This isn’t over, yet. We still have a chance to get him.”

“Don’t lie to me to make me feel better.”

Sloane sighed. “We probably won’t ever see him in prison or even fined. It’s shitty, but that’s the way it is. We can probably put away the pirates who actually killed the mermaids, though, if we can find them.”

“But Arty is fae. Why has the government allowed him to have so much money and power?”

“The fae registration and the restrictions didn’t start until right after the climate crash. Arty built his little empire decades before that, and he probably built his political connections, too. If I’m any judge of character, I’d say Arty probably has a lot of dirt on a lot of powerful people.”

“Oh.” Liza wanted to stay in his arms, but she was finding it hard to breathe. The bond and her attraction to him suddenly made her feel a bit suffocated. She wrenched herself free and stood. “I should probably get home.”

“I thought you were coming over to my place for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry. I just want to go home and go to bed.”

“Don’t you mean go to couch? If you came back to my place you could sleep in a bed.” He ran a hand up and down her arm in a delicate touch that somehow felt heavy on her skin. Even the lightest touch from him pulled her down into desire and passion.

“Thank you for the offer, but the couch is really comfy.” She forced a yawn and took another step away from Sloane. Her body and her mind protested and she felt the pull of the bond as an almost separate entity. Her chest ached in near panic. She needed to know she could be apart from him. She needed to know she could be her own person.

Sloane shrugged, but she saw the pain in his eyes. She almost wrapped her arms around him, but she kept control of herself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

*SLOANE*

Sloane watched Liza walk away and had to grip the arms of his chair not to go with her. He knew it was the bond that made him want to follow her and that such behavior would make him seem like a stalker or worse, so he kept his seat. He tried to understand how Liza could walk away if she felt the same thing he did, and he realized it must not be as intense for her. He felt the bond, sure, he could almost separate it from the rest of his emotions now, but he also just really liked her and liked being around her. He already knew everything he needed to know about her. She was brave and compassionate and she wanted to save everyone and get justice for the women who’d been killed. All day, he’d been looking forward to taking her home and touching her as much as he wanted and listening to her tell him all about herself.

For the first time in his life, he’d been more excited about going home with a women than working out or being alone, and she’d walked away from him. She needed space so he’d let her have it. He’d let her have all the time she needed to adjust to the bond and get to know him and, eventually, she’d be as crazy about him as he was about her. He had to believe that, or the bond would just be the worst kind of torture and everyone had told him it was a gift. That decided, Sloane tried to push thoughts of Liza aside and work on tracking down as much information about the pirates as he could. They might not be able to get Arty, but Liza had seen the men who’d killed the mermaids in her dreams and, if they could identify them, those men would pay. The ordinary human police force might need things like evidence and clues, but SPA worked a little differently. Liza’s dreams should be enough to warrant an arrest and search of their property at the very least. It would take more work to get Reynolds on board, but he figured she just needed a day or two to cool down and he’d be able to convince her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

*LIZA*

Liza walked in and plopped down on the couch, prepared to vent about her day until she noticed that Marcy’s eyes were red and she was watching an infomercial about cooking knives.

“Everything okay?” Liza asked.

“Peachy.”

“Uh-huh. Decided to take up cooking?”

“Yes, if you must know. I need a hobby and these knives are the best.”

“What did Ellison do? I hope your new hobby is cooking and not skewering my best friend.”

Marcy didn’t even crack a smile. “He just doesn’t get why I won’t move in with him.” She sniffed. “And the thing is, I’m not even sure that’s what he’s really upset about. It feels like he’s trying to push me away.”

Liza sighed, laid her head back against the couch, and wished it was Sloane she was cuddling up against. What the hell was wrong with her that she couldn’t even go thirty seconds without thinking about him? She needed a twelve-step program. “If that’s what it feels like that’s probably what it is, Sweetie. Ellison’s not a complicated guy, he’s like a puppy who needs a litter.”

“I take it I’m the litter in this scenario?”

“Well, yeah. He didn’t have the greatest home life, you know, and he really wants a family. I think he sees potential for that in every woman he likes and he’s been rejected a lot for coming on too strong. If he’s pulling away, it’s because he really cares about you and he’s preparing himself for rejection.”

“But I’m not rejecting him. I’m just not ready to move in with him and, honestly, he is coming on too strong and he is scaring me.”

“And he probably senses that, too. Don’t back down, Marcy. Don’t move in with him until you’re ready, but don’t run away from him either. However bad you’re feeling, I can guarantee he’s feeling worse.”

She looked at Liza like she’d hit her, her eyes wide. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know him. He’s the king of optimism, but he’s also the king of jumping to conclusions. He’s already envisioned the two of you walking down the aisle together and welcoming your first child, but now that you’ve left, he’s probably imagining his life without you. I’d bet money that if you go back there now, he’ll promise never to mention you moving in with him again. He is very good at admitting his mistakes.”

“He called ten minutes ago and made that promise.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Because if I stay there again tonight, after I’ve been there every night for the past week, I’m basically living with him already.”

“So you’re making yourself miserable to prove a point?”

“Why aren’t you with Rice?”

Liza just stared at her for a moment. It was like the woman could see straight into her soul. “I need to prove to myself that we can be apart without falling apart.” Liza sighed and dropped her head in her hands. “You’re right Marcy, this is terrifying. It was never scary for me with Ellison because he was just comfortable. I loved him, but I didn’t have this desperate need for him. I didn’t feel like I was splitting myself in two every time I walked away from him.”

Marcy lifted a beer from the table. “Want one?”

“Yes, please.”

Two hours later, Liza tossed and turned in bed in that dehydrated, restless state only six beers can conjure. She thought about Sloane and she thought about Arty and she thought about the voice in her dream. At some point, she thought about Professor Gupp and how she hadn’t let him know in person that she was leaving the program. She decided to go talk to him at the university the next morning. Just as she was finally drifting off, she remembered where she’d heard the voice in the dream. Her heart pounded with dread and she knew she’d never get to sleep. The last thing she remembered was debating whether or not to get up and find a book to read until she got sleepy.

She woke the next morning with the thick tongue, dry mouth, and cavernous head that too much beer and not enough water always produced. Yeah, she was a light-weight. She drank about a gallon of water before she left the house, dressed in casual slacks and a pink polo shirt. Her hands were shaking by the time she’d left the apartment, because she was planning to confront the owner of the voice from her dream and she wasn’t sure if she was going to make it out alive.

Professor Gupp was in the lab when she got there and he looked up to greet her with a huge smile, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Liza, it’s so good to see you. I was disappointed to hear that you’d left the program.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I would have stayed if I could.”

He frowned, his eyes softening into concern. “What do you mean? You’re more than welcome to come back if you wish.”

“Thank you, but I can’t. I’m fae and it’s illegal for me to pursue a doctoral degree.” That was her test. She had planned to put her fae nature out there, see that he was unsurprised, then confront him about the murders, because it was his voice she’d heard in her dream. Only, he didn’t look unsurprised. He looked utterly confused.

“What’s fae? This doesn’t make any sense, Liza. If dropping out of the program wasn’t your idea, I can talk to someone. I can pull some strings and get you back in.”

Shit, shit, shit. She’d been wrong. Unless he was a fantastic actor, and she’d never known him to lie about anything, she’d made a huge mistake. Of course she’d been wrong. Cheerful, kind professor Gupp wouldn’t kill anyone, and now she’d revealed the fae to him. How could she cover? “No, it’s okay, really. I’ve found a new job working for the government, and I really love it.” A part of her wanted to beg him to pull those strings and get her back in the program, but she knew it wouldn’t work. She’d get sent to be a guinea pig, and he’d probably get in some sort of trouble or be brain washed. “I just wanted to let you know how much I loved working with you and that my leaving had nothing to do with you.”

Professor Gupp still looked confused. “Are you sure about this, Liza? What is fae? If you tell me what’s going on, I can fix it.”

“Um, really, it’s okay. Fae is a Flemish word. I didn’t know it before, but my Mom, she, um, she moved here illegally after I was born and I’m… I’m not technically a real… um a legalized citizen and so I can’t get financial aid or study here anymore.”

“Liza, you’re one of my best students. I can fix this. Let me help you.”

She gave him her biggest smile. “No, really, it’s okay. I’m so, so happy with my new job and… But thank you, for everything. I’ll miss working here and I’m sorry if I left you in a bind.”

He started after her. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. But you…”

Liza was out the door and running before he’d finished crossing the room. She had screwed up monstrously and she racked her brain to figure out a way out of it. If she was lucky, Professor Gupp would just let it go and move on, but the concern on his face made her think he wouldn’t. Going back and talking to him again, would only make it worse. She’d just have to hope he didn’t repeat the word fae to anyone or look into her story.

She wasn’t even sure where she was when she finally looked up and noticed her surroundings. The morning was hot but cloudy, and it looked like it might start raining any moment. She turned in a full circle, trying to figure out where she was, but to no avail. She was pretty sure she was no longer on campus. She was on a deserted side street, surrounded by upscale apartment buildings.

She turned, to head back the way she’d come, and walked straight into a wall. Not a wall, she realized, as strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her in tight. Her first thought was of Sloane and gratitude washed over her. He’d know how to fix the trouble her big mouth had gotten her into. Then a cloth that smelled like acid was pressed to her nose and she realized the man holding her wasn’t Sloane. She twisted and struggled, but the cloth was made it hard to breathe and she felt tired. So, so tired. Her limbs heavy and slow. The last thing she saw, before her world went black, was shoes. Colorful running shoes she’d seen somewhere before. If she could just wake up, she might be able to remember.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

*SLOANE*

Sloane woke up with a pounding headache and a fuzzy brain. He hadn’t slept much the night before. He’d wanted Liza so bad he’d actually gotten out of bed a few times and started for the door to go get her. He’d forced himself back to bed each time, but it had been a struggle.

He stood and groaned when he saw the clock. It was already after eight. He must have fallen asleep at some point and slept right through the alarm. He wouldn’t have time to go to the gym, and he really needed to go to the gym. He needed to clear his head and blow off some steam. He considered going to the gym anyway. There wasn’t much going on at work for him to do. They’d picked up another case the day before, but it was just a domestic dispute between a pixy and a hobgoblin and would take about an hour to clear up. Why the two aggressive species ever decided marriage was a good idea, he’d never understand. Reynolds probably wouldn’t even notice if he was late, but he wanted to see Liza. He needed to see Liza more than he needed to work out.

That revelation floored him. The gym had been a refuge and a sanctuary to him since he was old enough to get in the place. With weights in his hands, the only person he had to answer to was himself. There was no one to impress and nothing to live up to. His father had expected perfection from him in every other aspect of his life, but he’d cared nothing about Sloane’s physical shape. He saw the gym as a waste of time and had once complained that Sloane was getting too bulky to look respectable in a suit.

By then, Sloane had already been hooked and his father’s sour attitude and his mother’s ambivalence had no longer been enough to steer him away.

Never before had anything or anyone been more important to him, been more of a sanctuary to him, than a weight room, but somehow, Liza had become that. And she could walk away in a heartbeat and probably lose no sleep over it. A sharp pain in his chest had him clutching the bedspread and gasping for air. His vision went black for a moment and then cleared. He blinked a few times and looked around, but he was fine. It must have been some sort of weird panic attack. He pushed the silver gray duvet off him and stood slowly, but he didn’t even feel dizzy. In fact, he felt fantastic, though tired. Somehow, he felt lighter and freer, and he realized that was how he should feel. That was how he’d felt every morning before he’d met Liza.

He sent Fulsom a quick text to cover for him and dressed for the gym.

It wasn’t until Sloane got to work, an hour and a half later, that he realized something was wrong. Liza wasn’t in the cubicle, and his heart sank.

“Nice of you to show up,” Fulsom said, his tone waspish.

“What the hell crawled up your ass?”

“Your girlfriend didn’t show up for work today and Reynolds assumed you two were having a love-in. Do you know how hard it was to cover for both of you? You should have given me a heads up.”

“Liza isn’t… wasn’t with me,” Sloane said. “I haven’t seen her since last night.” His heart pounded with something like fear. Had she left them all?

Fulsom shrugged. “Reynolds wanted to try to call her, but I told her your girl wasn’t feeling well, and you were taking care of her. You might want to call Liza and tell her to get her ass in here.”

Sloane took out his phone and stared at it for a long moment. She’d walked away from him last night, and she’d wanted her space. What if she didn’t answer his call? He wasn’t sure he could handle what that rejection. “I think Reynolds should call her. She’s more likely to answer if the call comes from her.”

“Reynolds is in meetings all morning. Just call her from my phone.”

“Right. Okay. My brain’s not working this morning. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Sloane took Fulsom’s phone and dialed Liza, using the number he had for her on his cell. “No answer. I’m going over there.”

“I’ll come with you.” Fulsom stood and grabbed his coat.

“What? No, I can handle this.” He just wanted to see her again, to touch her. He was sure she was fine. She probably just overslept.

“Something’s wrong, man, don’t you feel it?” Fulsom asked, putting a hand to his chest and then to his head. Trolls weren’t psychic, but they had phenomenal intuition.

Sloane’s vision narrowed and he felt a bit dizzy as his heart picked up its pace. It reminded him of the mini panic attack he’d had that morning. “What kind of link do bonded people have? Could I have felt it if she was in trouble?”

Fulsom nodded. “If her emotions spiked high enough, you’d probably feel it. Do you feel her now?”

And that’s when Sloane realized why he’d felt so free and alive that morning. He hadn’t felt Liza, he hadn’t felt that insatiable need for her. He still missed her and looked forward to seeing her, but he hadn’t been going crazy with want. His throat tightened. “I don’t. I don’t feel her. Does that mean she’s…” He couldn’t say the word.

Fulsom was far too calm. “Dead? Probably not, but I wouldn’t rule it out. She could be unconscious. It’s too bad you can’t feel her. If you could, we might be able to find her through your link.”

Sloane tried again. He closed his eyes and he concentrated on Liza. He wished for her, he wanted her, but he felt nothing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

*LIZA*

Liza was in a dim basement, her face pressed against cold concrete. Her head felt like a bowling ball and she couldn’t move her arms or legs. There was something tight around her face. She started to sit up and someone grabbed her from behind and dropped something heavy and dark over her head. He pulled her into a sitting position, her butt on the cold concrete, her legs twisted to the side and tied at the ankles. Her wrists were tied together behind her back.

“Sorry about the bag, beautiful. We can’t risk someone looking through your eyes.” The voice was masculine and velvet, but it was subtly different from her professor’s voice. Now that she’d heard the two so recently, she could make out the differences.

“Is that possible?” she asked, hoping to get some information from the asshole.

“Who knows? You fae are a fucking mystery to me. I almost shit myself when the boss told me they had some chick who could dream a person’s death. I was glad then that they’d been so paranoid and made me use the bags. So I’ll keep using them, just in case.”

“And who’s your boss?”

The man laughed long and deep. “I don’t think so, babe. I don’t know who might be listening, either. The only reason you’re still alive is to hear the offer I’m going to make you.”

“I’m not interested.” She knew she should probably play along and stall him, but she was tired and the fear, the racing of her heart, the pounding in her head, it hurt. If he didn’t kill her, she figured she’d die from the fear. No one knew she’d gone to talk to Professor Gupp, and no one would be able to find her before the pyscho killed her. She would die in that basement, just like the women she’d dreamed about and she’d never see Sloane again. She’d never see him smile at her, she’d never touch his skin. She hoped, for his sake, that the bond just went away when she died. She hoped he’d be free, but even if he was, she knew he’d be angry and want some sort of revenge.

She needed to man up. She needed to try to get information from this guy in case SPA ever found another banshee, or tracked down her mother, and were able to see her death.

The man laughed and paced while thoughts of her imminent death and what it would mean to the people she loved flitted through her mind. He stopped in front of her and her head exploded in pain. He’d punched her. The asshole had punched her. Pain and anger gave her strength and pushed out her fear. She grabbed onto those emotions and tried to reach past the pain to make what notes about her surroundings she could. She couldn’t see anything, so she listened. The man had gone back to pacing, probably giving her time to recover from the punch. She listened hard and heard… nothing. She couldn’t hear any street noise, or even the sound of a fan. It was cool in the basement and Liza wondered if the building had solar fans that just weren’t running at the moment.

“I’ve been authorized to make you an offer that could save your life, but I’ve got a temper and it makes me feel better to hit things when I get mad. Try not to make me mad.”

Liza didn’t want to be punched again and hearing his offer might help anyone who listened.

“The people I work for like what you can do and they want you on their team.”

Interesting that he said their team and not my team. “What do they think I can do for them?”

“Not my business. They want you and if you agree to go with me and work for them, I’ll keep you alive.”

She figured she was dead no matter what she did, but if she let this guy take her to his boss, whoever dreamed her death would also see the boss. “Okay.”

“Okay?” The guy sounded disappointed.

“I don’t want to die. Seems like a pretty straight-forward decision to me.”

“You’re the first fae I’ve met with any sense of self-preservation.”

Liza thought of the women he’d killed and shuddered. They’d been loyal enough to their cause to choose death. They’d been stronger than this guy could ever understand.

“Probably the human part of you,” the man said. Liza heard disgust in his voice and she wasn’t sure if the disgust was for the human part, or the fae part of her. He seemed like the kind of guy who found everything and everyone less than he’d hoped. “Sorry, but I’m going to have knock you out again.” He didn’t sound sorry.

He slid another sour smelling cloth under the hood and pressed it over her nose and mouth. She didn’t want to go back into the darkness. She feared she might never wake up again. No matter how inevitable her death seemed, she couldn’t help twisting and fighting with everything she had. It made no difference. The cloth never left her face and the darkness engulfed her.

When she came around again, the damn bag was still on her head but her hands were free and she reached up and took the bag off. She was in another chair, this time a comfortable leather chair, in a room she recognized.

She tried to move her legs, but they were tied to the chair. She bent over to untie them, but the door creaked open before she could get past the first knot. Young Arty walked in and sat down behind the desk, not doing anything to stop Liza from untangling the nylon rope.

“Go ahead and free yourself, dear. There’s a man with a gun behind you, so you won’t get very far.”

She looked over her shoulder and saw Arty’s pixy butler with a very large, very scary gun trained on her. She still untied her ankles, just in case she had a chance to fight. When she was done she sat back in her chair and glared at Arty. “So you’re behind the mermaid deaths and the serial killings of fae college women.”

Arty smiled and she gripped the chair arms to keep from leaping over the desk and ripping his head off. Tempting as the idea might be, she’d probably get a bullet in the back.

“I didn’t wish for anyone to be killed, darling, but when you hire mercenaries you have to be willing to accept some losses.”

Liza felt bile rise in her throat as she thought of the lives that had been lost, the futures that would never be lived because of Arty’s apathy. “Why? These women are connected to the rock you’re looking for?”

“Liza, dear, I like you very much. I’ve liked you for a very long time, so it makes me very happy that you chose to come see me rather than die. Unfortunately, I don’t trust you and you’re going to have to prove your loyalty to me before I can allow you to know any more than I’ve already told you.”

“I need to prove my loyalty for what? What do you want with me?” Liza’s heart raced and her head pounded with so much pain it was hard to think straight. Apparently, being drugged unconscious twice in one day caused headaches.

“You need to prove your loyalty so that you can work for me. You and that agent you brought here know too much about me. You work for me, or I bury you so deep no one ever finds the body.”

Liza shuddered, but the pain in her head made the darkness and safety of death sound like a blessing. “Rice only knows about the drill and the mermaids, and there were no charges against you on those issues.”

“And you think he’s going to let it drop at that? You don’t think he’s going to keep coming after me? You, at least, have a skill I find useful. He has nothing to offer me.”

Liza shook her head, her panic increasing. Knowing the connections Arty had and the kind of people he worked with, she had little doubt he could carry out his threat. “No, no. I’ll tell him I’m working for you. If I ask him to drop it, he will.”

Arty’s jaw tensed, but he remained otherwise calm. “Your bond only makes him more of a threat. If you want to live you will stop arguing with me and start doing what I say.” The gun behind her clicked and she dropped her head into her hands. She was trapped and she was out of options.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

*SLOANE*

“Got anything?” Sloane asked Reggie, the wolf he had on a leash in downtown Greenville. Reggie looked over his shoulder, whined and shook his head. Most of the people they passed would expect to see Sloane walking a large dog and that’s what they would see. They wouldn’t suspect he had a werewolf on a leash. A werewolf who was helping him at the price of Sloane owing a favor to Gabriel Moon. The very idea of owing Gabriel anything made his skin itch. He had been raised with the idea that refusing to repay a favor owed was the worst kind of dishonor, and he wouldn’t be able to say no to whatever Gabriel asked of him. Gabriel needed the kinds of favors that made Sloane nervous. Reggie hadn’t been able to pick up a sign of Liza since they’d left her professor’s lab at the college. It was as though she’d vanished into thin air.

He found it harder and harder to breath, the only thing keeping him from full out panic being the bond he had with Liza that let him know she was still alive. Sloane’s connection to Liza had returned and he could feel her fear and, something even scarier, her resignation. Unfortunately, the bond he shared with her couldn’t help him figure out where she was. It had not, as he’d hoped, allowed him to play hotter colder, where his connection to her felt stronger or weaker as he moved across town.

They were two blocks from the SPA headquarters when he saw her. She was facing the other way, her back to him. Her hair was up in a tight bun and she was wearing non-descript clothes, but he knew it was her. He felt it with every fiber of his being. She turned moments after he spotted her. She stalked down the street toward him and her whole body shook. She held a gun, loosely, in her right hand, and the emotions he got from her were fear and regret.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sloane,” she said, when she got close enough. She never called him Sloane, except in bed. He had a catastrophically bad feeling, but how could he doubt Liza? He knew her like he’d known no one else before.

“We’ll talk about it, later. Let’s just get you back to headquarters where you’ll be safe.”

“I’m tired of you telling me what to do,” she said, her teeth gritted. “You need to listen to me and trust me and give me my space when I ask for it.” Her words were enunciated and he saw more fear in her eyes than anger. “You won’t leave me alone. Showing up at my place last night when I asked you to stay away. It has to stop. I can’t take feeling this bond all the time, and the only way to stop it…” Liza raised the gun and pointed it at his chest.

He’d been sure she was trying to tell him something, but any hope he had of figuring it out left when she pointed the gun at him. Reggie growled and his protective instinct kicked in. “Don’t hurt her. Even if she kills me, don’t touch her.”

A tear rolled down Liza’s cheek. “Please, don’t,” she said. “I don’t need your protection any more, Sloane. I’ve got better protection now. The best. I’ll never spend one minute in a cell with the connections I have.”

He saw her finger pull back on the trigger and he felt an overwhelming rush of emotions from her, chief among them guilt and sorrow. “I love you,” he said. But it was too late. Stinging, screaming pain ripped into his chest, and his world went dark.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

*LIZA*

Liza didn’t wait for the wolf to move, she turned and ran as fast as she could, ignoring the blaze of pain tearing through her. She almost hoped that Arty had lied to her and the sniper that would have taken out both her and Sloane if she hadn’t shot him would still put a bullet through her heart. At least then she wouldn’t have to live with the memory of what she’d done. A shiny black sedan pulled up, and the back door opened. Arty grinned at her. “Get in!” he shouted.

She jumped in and sunk into the plushy back seat. Arty reached for her hand but she shook her head and moved away. She wanted to cry, to scream, to do or feel anything. But she only felt numb. She didn’t even feel the ache of desire for Sloane. She didn’t feel the pull of the bond and she didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t know how to tell if he was still alive or if she’d miscalculated and killed him.

“Isn’t it wonderful to be free, Liza? Together, you and I will rule this town, and you will have everything you’ve ever wanted or dreamed of.”

“And if I want Rice back?”

“I’ll find you a man even better than him. And if you get too lonely, there’s always me.” Arty spoke the words with a leer, but his voice held no emotion or desire for her. He only wanted her for what she could do. He’d probably decided to go after her as soon as he discovered her banshee lineage.

She pressed her face to the cool glass of the window and watched the streets pass. She knew she should be pumping Arty for information or doing something to make hurting Sloane worthwhile, but she couldn’t muster the energy. She didn’t even realize she was still gripping the gun until Arty removed it from her hand.

She woke to blinding, screeching pain. Her head throbbed, her stomach churned, and she ached for some sort of relief, but she couldn’t even cry. She wanted Sloane so badly her heart felt like it would explode from the wanting. He would never forgive her, she knew. Even if, by some miracle, he lived, he would never forgive her. His ghost probably wouldn’t even haunt her. And that’s what she deserved, to be alone. She looked around the sunlit room and found herself in a sumptuously decorated, frilly, pink room. It was the kind of room Liza hated. The kind of room she felt she couldn’t be real or dirty in.

She lay down and closed her eyes. She wanted to go back to the oblivion of sleep and stop seeing the hurt on Sloane’s face. She wanted to forget the crack of the gun and his body, his perfect, impossibly beautiful body, flying back and hitting the pavement. But sleep wouldn’t bless her. She wondered if her body was beginning to deteriorate as Arty told her it would if Sloane died, but she felt only the hollow ache of loneliness and guilt. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling until she found the energy to get up, get dressed, and do what she was there to do. If she couldn’t even get out of bed, she might as well have died on that street with Sloane.

Somehow, she made her way through that maze of a house to the dining room and found Arty at the table, a newspaper spread before him and a half-eaten doughnut on a plate next to a glass of orange juice. “Good morning, Sunshine. How did you sleep?”

“Great,” she said, not bothering to keep the snark out of her tone. “Now, I want to know exactly what’s going on.”

“You should have breakfast first.”

“Not hungry.” In fact, the sight of his half-eaten doughnut made her feel like she was going to barf all over his oriental rug.

He smiled at her and gestured for her to sit. She continued to stand, and he shrugged. Moments later, a man brought in a tray with scrambled eggs, grits, and fruit, and placed it on the table. “You need to eat, Liza. I’ll tell you what you want to know over breakfast.”

She sat in front of the food and pushed it around her plate, trying not breathe in the smell. Arty ignored her until he finished reading the paper. He looked over at her still full plate and tsked. “You really should keep your strength up, but I can understand your lack of appetite. Was Rice the first man you’ve ever killed?”

“Yes,” she said, her teeth gritted. “Now, tell me why you’re killing college students.”

He smiled. “They aren’t just college students, dear, they all have dragon blood. Remember the rock, the righ carraig, I told you about? Dragons have long been the protectors of the righ carraig and if anyone knows where it is, they will.”

She suppressed a shudder. He was sick and twisted beyond anything she’d imagined. “You killed them because they might know something about this rock that might not exist on earth at all?” Her voice came out a whisper and she knew if she spoke any more loudly she’d start to cry. She’d had no choice but to shoot Sloane and still it felt as though it had all been for nothing. Arty was insane and her new mission became finding enough proof of that to get him put away. “How did you find them?”

“I didn’t find them. We have a hellhound in our little group and she sniffed them out.” He glared at her. “I know what you think of me, but you’re wrong. We followed them, and had evidence that they were also searching for the righ carraig, that they had actually found it.”

Not only was Arty crazy, but he’d convinced others to share in his insanity. “How many people work with you?”

He laughed. “I lost count a long time ago”

She schooled her face to reveal none of the shock she felt. She had hoped to get some proof of Arty’s guilt, but this whole thing was bigger than she’d anticipated and she was certain she’d gotten in way over her head. She wished for Sloane and, just as quickly, pushed him from her mind. If she started to think about him, she’d worry and the more she worried the more she’d hurt and she’d lose her mind if she let herself think too much about what she’d done.

Arty stood and walked over to her. “I have a job for you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and trailed it down her arm in a way she supposed was meant to be seductive, but creeped her out beyond belief. She stood to escape his touch. “Lead the way.”

Liza felt like an idiot when she saw the body on the table. She should have known right away what Arty wanted. Of course she was only good for dreaming of the dead. She started to shake her head and took a step back, but Arty placed a firm hand on her back and pushed her forward. “Now’s not the time to back down,” he said.

It was too much. After being kidnapped and forced to shoot the man she cared for, Arty wanted her to touch a body and dream of death. She already felt physically and mentally sick. She wasn’t sure she’d survive any more violence. “Can it wait until tomorrow? Please?”

“There’s a dead man on my table, sugar, and he needs to be removed. You will touch him now.” Arty made no threat, but the command in his voice was not to be argued with. She wasn’t sure what he could do to her that could hurt her anymore, but if she backed down, she’d lose her chance to earn his trust and get the proof she needed to make sure Arty was put away for good. Plus, the pixie with the gun pointed at her was added incentive.

She stepped forward, stretched out her arm and touched the man. She backed away so quickly, she stepped on Arty’s toes.

He took her elbow and led her out of the room. “Now to bed with you.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“I have something to help you with that.”

“No, really, I’m not… and sleeping pills… I don’t have the dreams with the pills.”

“I’m not going to give you pills.”

He took her back to the frilly pink room and she walked along with him, because she had no choice. Her feet felt leaden and she wanted so badly to go home, to be back in Sloane’s arms. She didn’t wish for the life she’d had before she’d met Sloane, she wished for the life the two of them had been starting to build together. She ached with missing him and her pain was only increased by the knowledge that she’d never see him again.

There was a cup on the nightstand. Arty helped her into bed and tucked her in. He made her drink the foul liquid and she started to ask for another drink to wash away the taste, but before she could speak her head hit the pillow and she was asleep.

She lived and died the last day of a violent and bitter man and, when she woke, she ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved, because there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up. She sobbed with her head against the cold porcelain of the toilet and, when she was done, Arty was there.

He led her to his office and sat her down in the leather chair. Her whole body shook and she felt like she was still in the horror of the dream. Arty sat down behind his desk and took out a ledger book and a pen. “Tell me who killed him.”

“He… he killed an entire family. Even… he killed the children. They were so…” she was going to be sick again, she could feel her stomach heaving and the tears pressing against her eyelids, but she was dry. She had nothing left.

“Yes, yes. I know that. What I need to know is who killed him.”

She didn’t want to tell him. That dead man had deserved to die. “I didn’t see the shooter,” she said. She didn’t know if she was any good at lying, but she’d convinced Sloane she hadn’t felt the bond, so maybe she wasn’t awful. But the man had been shot in the forehead, she needed a convincing reason for him to have missed seeing the shooter. “The dead man… his eyes were closed. He was…” she racked her memory of the dream and the man for a reasonable explanation. “He was proud of what he’d done, killing the family. He’d closed his eyes and relived the… the experience. Then there was the sound of the gunshot and pain and then nothing.”

Arty eyed her for a long moment. “You’ve got nothing else? The sound of a voice?”

She shook her head. She had to give him something, to make it look like she was trying. “It happened moments after he’d killed them all, so it had to be someone who was close by, but I couldn’t get anything else. I’m sorry.”

Arty shrugged. “We can’t win them all. We’ll canvass the neighborhood and see if we can track down a likely suspect. We just need someone to pay to satisfy our foot soldiers.”

“Foot soldiers?” Liza tried to keep her face expressionless, to show no sign of the worry she felt at the idea of an innocent person being killed because she refused to describe the killer to Arty. She’d just have to hope Arty was exaggerating to get her to talk.

“We can’t kill too many fae – there aren’t enough of us to waste ourselves in that way. We just have to kill enough to make the rest fear us, so that they will fight with us when the time comes.” He made a note in his book and stood, pushing his chair back. “Well, you slept longer than I’d hoped and we have much more to do. Come with me.”

He took her to another body, a woman, though she was barely recognizable as such. Liza started to shake uncontrollably as soon as she saw the corpse. “Please, Arty, I’ll do what you want, but I need at least a day to recover from the last one.”

He patted her back and she steeled herself not to flinch away from him. She didn’t want to give him anything more to use against her. “I understand this is hard for you, right now, but the more deaths you dream, the greater tolerance you will build until it won’t bother you at all. I’m doing you a favor, desensitizing you to death.”

“And if I don’t want to be desensitized?” She didn’t want to be someone who could dream of children being killed and feel nothing.

He shrugged. “Right now, what I want trumps what you want. Too many of my people have died in the past couple of weeks and I need to know if there’s an unknown enemy or if their deaths are simply a result of their extra-curricular activities.”

“Like killing an entire family?”

“Some people, fae and human, have a greater lust for blood and violence than other people. Just because you are squeamish, it doesn’t give you the right to judge them. Now, touch the body or I will have to hurt you.” He shoved her forward so hard she fell onto the body, and the only way to remove herself was to place her hands on the corpse and push away. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe, but the horror of lying across a mutilated corpse made her scream aloud.

She took the sleeping potion, and slept. She dreamed the woman’s horrific death and told Arty what she’d seen, because the second killer had seemed just as vile as the child-killer. The woman who’d killed and mutilated the body had done so because she’d wanted the dead woman’s place in Arty’s organization. Arty smiled and seemed quite proud of the killer when Liza told him what had happened.

Arty allowed her a lunch break, but she couldn’t eat. He took her to see six more bodies that day, and at some point, he did have to follow through on his promise to hurt her for refusing to touch a body. He broke her wrist forcing her hand onto a corpse. She was so raw and empty inside that the physical pain seemed like a blessing. Something to feel other than death. A reminder that she was still alive. After she recounted her last dream, at two in the morning, Arty sent her to his pixy butler to have her wrist casted.

“He could have me heal it, you know,” the pixy, Leo, said as he flitted around Liza, preparing a cast and setting her wrist.

Her brain and emotions were so fried, she had to think to understand what he meant. “It’s okay.”

Leo blurred around her head and she saw him, no longer in the room with her, but in a forest, or at least surrounded by trees. He held a sword over his head and charged a man with a gun. A shot rang out and blood bloomed on the pixy’s chest. He hit the ground and Liza snapped back to reality with the certain knowledge that Leo would die in thirty-six hours. Tears pricked and stung her eyes.

“You’re going to die if you keep working for him.”

He smiled at her with a mouth full of pointy, spiked teeth. “Is that a vision or just a hunch?”

The realization crept into her brain like it had to slog through tar. “A vision.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I won’t tell Arty. He’d have you reading every person he knows.”

“You need to leave.”

He was silent for so long she didn’t think he would answer her. “I was a healer in Fairy. Very few fae have the gift of healing and I was celebrated for that gift. I saved many and helped many live better lives. When I was forced to come here, I tried to become a doctor. The humans said I needed the requisite degrees, so I applied to school. The humans wouldn’t let me attend their schools, so when Arty found me and offered me a job using my gift, I accepted. Every day I see humans that are sick and dying and it is only fear that prevents them from healing. If they would allow me, I could help them. I could improve their lives, but a small group in the government has decided to doom all of the people to suffering.”

“It’s not right what the humans are doing, but if you stay here, you will die.”

“And what will I do if I leave? A life without purpose is a living death. A life in which I have to ignore my gift would be hell on earth. Thank you for the warning, but I will accept my fate. The humans will only truly be happy when all the fae are gone.”

She watched him wrapping her arm and shook her head. She appreciated the conversation as a distraction from the deaths she’d dreamed that day. “I know that what the humans are doing is wrong, but I don’t… I can’t believe they want all the fae dead. They fear what they don’t understand, but given time–”

“Time is a luxury none of us have, Liza. This planet is dying, despite the best efforts of the humans to reverse the damage they have done. The fae could save it, but humans, in their fear and ignorance, will not allow it. They would rather die than concede any of their power and wealth to the fae, and I would rather die than abide by their rules.”

Liza couldn’t argue with him anymore, she just watched his small, deft fingers as they flitted and casted her wrist with an inhuman speed. When he was done, he kissed her cheek. “I have given you a touch of my healing magic, but do not tell Arty. Your wrist will be healed in one week.”

“Thank you.” She allowed him to help her up and went back to her room.

The room was still frilly and pink, but she had dreamed so much death there that the colors seemed more representative of death and gore. Like a lullaby as the soundtrack for a slasher movie. She considered asking Arty for a different room, but she doubted he’d allow it. She’d seen a light in his eyes, when she’d recounted her dreams, that led her to believe he delighted in her pain.

She’d slept so much that day, she doubted sleep would come, but she laid down on the bed anyway, and closed her eyes. Behind her lids, her dreams replayed and she opened them and sat up. Even with her eyes open, the images continued to scroll across her vision like a movie. She blinked and shook her head, but she couldn’t get the images to leave, couldn’t see the room around her.

She was like a fucking robot whose circuitry had been fried. She stood and paced the room, grinding her teeth and praying to escape from her own personal hell. At some point, she heard screaming. An agonizing screeching that was so close it made her eardrums hurt. It wasn’t until Leo flew into the room that she realized the screaming was coming from her. He placed a gentle hand on her forehead and sweet darkness consumed her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

*SLOANE*

Sloane woke before he opened his eyes. He heard machines beeping and people talking in low voices. His chest felt sort of numb, and his head and back ached, but his mind was clear, so he must have been on the road to recovery. Once he was sure his own body was whole, he reached for his connection to Liza. She was there but the emotions coming from her were so raw and painful that he shut himself off to her without really being aware of what he was doing. He pulled back into himself, a skill he’d learned to evade psychics and seers. Something was very, very wrong with Liza.

He also remembered quite clearly that she’d shot him, and that memory hurt him more than any physical injury ever could. He tried to remember what she’d said to him, because in the moment he’d been certain she didn’t want to hurt him. He’d felt her despair through their bond. Then she’d shot him, in the chest, point blank, and that action made him question his understanding of her emotions. So he tried to remember her words.

Someone tapped him on the head. “Hey, Rice, we got Elsa here and we know you’re awake. Why don’t you open those eyes and talk to us?”

Sloane groaned. He wasn’t ready to face anyone, but Elsa was a powerful empath and, now that she knew he was awake, they wouldn’t leave him alone. The first thing he saw was Fulsom leaning over his bed, wearing a grim expression. “What happened?” He asked, pretending confusion on every level he could. He needed to hear the details from Fulsom, but if Elsa was in the room, so were a lot of other people and he had to be circumspect.

“Best we can tell, Liza shot you in the chest on the street. Reggie heard her say something about the bond and it is our belief that she was attempting to kill you in order to end the bond between the two of you.”

Fulsom was using his formal tone and verbiage, which meant people were listening who expected to hear Fulsom recite the party line. It also meant Fulsom didn’t really buy the party line.

“And what will happen to her when she’s found?”

Fulsom grinned a scary grin, which Sloane knew was a warning. “Looking for revenge already, Lover Boy? She is to be apprehended alive, because of her ability, and she is to be taken to West Virginia for testing and the continued use of her skills.”

“I want to be the one to bring her in.”

“I thought you might, which is why I asked them to wait, but Reynolds doesn’t want you involved. She thinks you’re compromised.”

“I can certainly understand her fears. Have I been fully healed?” Sloane knew they had two fae healers on staff, a pixy named Silver and a hobgoblin named Tredway, but they weren’t always used. Especially not if a lot of agents had been injured.

“Yes. Tredway said you’ll feel numb in the wounded area for three days and should stay in bed, but you are otherwise completely healed.”

“Where did she hit me?” Sloane steeled himself to hear an answer he wouldn’t like. He’d seen her shoot and he could admit to himself, if to no one else, that she was a better shot than he was and he’d been the best in his training class. Even so, there were some risks even the best shooter shouldn’t take and Sloane hoped she’d hit him in the shoulder, even though he knew how unlikely that was.

“Three inches from your heart,” Fulsom said.

Sloane winced, but forced himself to nod like it was just fine that the woman he couldn’t live without had come so close to ending him. On purpose. When he found her, they were really going to have to work out their issues.

“I’d like to request permission to rest in my own bed.”

“Permission has already been granted. I will escort you home.”

“What the hell is really going on?” Fulsom asked when they were in the car. “I can’t see Liza as a killer. I know she had reservations about the bond, but the way she looked at you…”

Sloane’s heart stuttered. He could really use reassurance that Liza liked him enough not to want him dead. “How did she look at me?”

“She watched you whenever she thought you weren’t looking and it made me think bad thoughts, man. She wanted you. All. The. Time.”

Sloane couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. Even though he knew lust didn’t mean she cared for him, it was nice to know she’d wanted him almost as much as he’d wanted her. “I never knew you were a romantic, Fulsom.”

“Fuck you. Tell me what’s going on. You didn’t wake up mad and, believe me, if some bitch I’d screwed tried to kill me I’d wake up fairy-fucking furious.”

“And there’s the Fulsom I’m used to,” Sloane said. “She spoke to me before she shot me and I… I could feel her emotions, and she felt scared and guilty. I don’t think she wanted to shoot me, but that could be wishful thinking.”

“What did she say?” Fulsom asked as he pulled up in front of Sloane’s houseboat.

“That’s what I’m trying to remember. Getting shot kind of blew her words right out of my memory.” Fulsom helped him out of the car, but Sloane was able to walk on his own into his home. He sat on the couch, and Fulsom sat in a wicker chair that doubled as outdoor furniture when it was cool enough.

Sloane leaned his head against the back of the couch and searched his memory. “She called me Sloane which she only does when we’re alone. She definitely talked about the bond, about how tired she was of it. I know that’s the truth. She hates the bond. She wants me, and she hates wanting me.” He looked to Fulsom for a contradiction, but Fulsom just nodded. “Then she said I wouldn’t leave her alone and that was a lie. She’d asked for space last night and I’d given it to her, but the way she talked it was like she thought I showed up to see her. Do you think someone glamoured themselves to look like me? Or maybe just skulked around in the shadows so she thought it was me? Do you think that’s how she got taken?”

“She went to see Professor Gupp yesterday morning, man. She didn’t get grabbed at night.”

Yesterday morning. Shit, he’d been out longer than he’d realized. “When I woke up, I felt her. Something is really wrong with her. She needs our help.”

Fulsom’s face remained still and calm. “No one’s been able to find her. After she shot you, she was picked up by a car. That’s how we know she wasn’t working alone, but how did you know that? Why do you think she was grabbed?”

Sloane searched his mind and his memory and came up empty. He’d just assumed she’d disappeared because someone had taken her from him, but whether that was instinct or imagination, he couldn’t be sure. “I don’t know. I don’t understand why she went to talk to her professor. He acted like she’d just stopped in to say hello, but he was lying.”

Fulsom shrugged. “He probably didn’t trust us. Government types storming in looking for his star pupil would make him suspicious, sure enough.”

Sloane nodded.

“What else did she say?”

“What?”

“Before she shot you? What else did she say?”

“Oh, right.” He tried to remember, to get past the look on her face and the longing for her that wouldn’t go away. “She said even if we caught her we wouldn’t be able to hold her. She said she has connections that will get her out of jail.”

Fulsom’s eyes widened. “Were those her exact words?”

Sloane closed his eyes and remembered. “She said she wouldn’t spend one minute in a cell with the connections she has.”

“She was trying to send you a message.” Fulsom slapped his thigh. “I knew she hadn’t gone off the reservation.”

“What kind of message?”

“First, she tells you she’s upset when you showed up at her place, but you didn’t show up. And she calls you Sloane. Two clues right there. So either she’s lost it, or someone glamoured her into thinking you were stalking her, or she’s trying to send you a message. That last bit proves she was definitely trying to send you a message.”

“I take it she has no connections.”

“None. We can’t even track down her parents. They’ve disappeared into thin air.”

“So what was she trying to tell me?” Sloane stood and started pacing. He was sore and numb, but he’d never been good at sitting still and the movement calmed him and got blood flowing to his brain. “If she was trying to tell me something she can’t be working alone, right? If she were, she would have been straight with me.”

“She’s not working alone,” Fulsom said, a sigh in his voice. “The car picking her up, remember?”

“You can’t hire a car?” Sloane asked. “My brain’s still working, asshole. So she had to have been giving me a clue about who she was working with, someone with the kind of connections not to stay in jail for even a minute.” He sat back down with a thud. “Shit. Of course. It’s Arty. And he’d have every reason to want me dead, since I know about his little ocean drilling project.”

“We’ve already talked to Arty. He hasn’t seen her.”

“He lied.”

“Elsa was there, she read his mind. He told the truth. It’s a dead end, man.”

“Arty is at least a hundred years old. You don’t think he’s figured out how to get around empaths?”

Fulsom shrugged. “So how are we going to get in there? Liza’s right about his connections, Reynolds won’t send any one to back us up.”

“I have an idea,” Sloane said. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

*SLOANE*

“No,” Curtis said. He sat across from them at the diner Liza had told Sloane about and shook his head. “I like Miss Liza, but I won’t send any of my people after him. Do you know who he works for?”

“Himself?” Sloane said, starting to feel like a man who’d been shot less than twenty-four hours before. He didn’t want to know any more about Arty or his operation. He just wanted to go in and get her out.

Curtis shook his head. “Arty made himself a big man when he came to live among the humans, but he was no one special in fairy. His magic has always been weak. I suspect he is only a pawn in this game.”

“Do you know who’s running the show?” Fulsom asked.

Curtis pursed his lips and rubbed his chin. “I have suspicions but nothing concrete enough to share.”

Sloane swallowed hard. He could feel Liza slipping away from him. He reached for her, but felt nothing. He’d go after her alone, if he had to, but he was pretty sure he’d die if he did. “Liza and I are bonded. I can feel her emotions, and the last one I felt from her was… it was pain on every level, a kind of pain I couldn’t… I dropped the connection and now I can’t feel her at all.”

Curtis studied him with something like pity. “It is the weakness of a bond that you can’t let go even when it is the wisest choice. You will ignore every logic and bit of reason to go after her and you will die. Arty has too many powerful fae and humans on his side.” He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t get involved in battles that cannot be won, but I’ll tell you this. If she were dead, you’d know. If she were dead, the pain you felt from her would be your own. I’ve known people to kill themselves to escape the pain of the death of a bonded mate.”

Fulsom started to stand. He’d seemed uneasy since they walked in. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Sloane didn’t move. He stared down Curtis. “Please.”

“You’ll owe me. When I call, you will come and you will do what I ask.”

Sloane knew better. He was risking everything making a deal with an unknown fae – the favor he granted could lose him his life, his job, even Liza, but he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t walk away. “I’ll do anything.”

Curtis placed a hand over his. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, son. Never make a promise like that to a fae.”

Sloane knew that, but he didn’t care.

“I know someone who can help you, but I don’t want anyone to be able to link him to me. I don’t ever want anyone to know you got his name from me. Understand?”

Sloane nodded.

Curtis pulled a slip of paper and a pen out of the pocket of his button-down flannel shirt. He scrawled something and slid the paper to Sloane. Sloane took it without looking at it and followed Fulsom out of the diner.

“I should go talk to them alone,” Sloane said.

Fulsom nodded. “Yeah, you should and I should let you, if I had any sense. But I’m your partner and I like Liza, so I’m going with you.”

Sloane nodded and they walked to the bus stop. He plugged the address Curtis had given him into his phone and figured out the bus schedule. An hour later and a mile-long walk down a dusty dirt road, they arrived at what looked like a barn, red paint chipped and peeling, on a large farm. Wide open land stretched to the mountains in the distance, and the landscape sang to Sloane almost as deeply as the sea, awakening a sense of calm in him. Or it did until a shout and a whizzing sound sent him to kiss the dirt and reach for his gun. The roar of motors and loud laughter had Sloane crawling on hands and knees to the tree line where he found Fulsom shaking his head. “Fuck. I hate redcaps,” he said.

Sloane hunkered down behind a fallen tree. He looked over the trunk and saw six men, with flaming red hair and rifles slung over their shoulders, careening straight toward them on four-wheelers. Sloane had enough encounters with redcaps to last him a lifetime, and he figured they probably wouldn’t try to kill him. Not on purpose anyway. He started to stand and then ducked back down to watch as one of the four-wheelers hit a small hill at full-speed and flew through the air. The four-wheeler landed on its side and rolled, but the redcap who’d been on it jumped clear and raised his hands in the air in a victory gesture. The other redcaps jeered and shouted and laughed, seeming to have forgotten their guests for the moment.

“You sure about this?” Fulsom whispered.

“Don’t think we have any choice.” Sloane waited until the shouts quieted, then stepped from behind the tree, hands raised to demonstrate he had no weapons.

The redcaps quieted and drove up to meet him. Sloane waited until they’d cut the engines and gave them his best smile.

“What’s up, Homo-Sapien?” asked the tallest redcap, who was a head shorter than Sloane and bulky with muscle that was obvious even through his t-shirt and cargo shorts.

“You look like a fed,” another one, who was thinner and tanner, said.

“I am and I need your help with a mission.”

The redcaps stared at him blankly.

“Curtis sent us.”

That earned him confused looks all around.

“The mission is to save a woman.”

That peaked their interest. The tallest one grinned. “Is she smokin’?”

Sloane was young enough to be familiar with slang, but redcaps had their own variety and he didn’t want to lead them astray. He felt they should know what they were getting into. “Define smokin’.”

“You know, dude, is she a dragon?” A redcap, who looked all of fourteen, asked with an eye roll for his buddies. “Dragons are so hot.”

Again, Sloane was a bit confused. In all possibility, the redcaps meant hot literally, but they could just as likely be fucking with him. He’d never understood redcap humor. Nor did he know much about the sexual proclivities of the redcaps, and he didn’t want to know. “She’s not a dragon. She’s attractive, but she’s mine.”

The redcaps’ disappointment lasted only a moment. “Come on in,” the tall one said. He adjusted the solar panels on his four-wheeler and led Sloane and Fulsom inside. They’d made the barn surprisingly homey. On the main floor there was a large sectional couch, and pool, foos-ball, and air hockey tables. The rest of the huge space was taken up by a kitchen, with state of the art appliances and antique granite countertops. A set of stairs led to a loft-like second floor that was too dark for Sloane to make out, but which held bedrooms, he assumed.

Four of the six redcaps sat down on the couch, one headed to the kitchen and returned with beers, and one vanished upstairs. “So, tell us about this mission,” the tall redcap said, after he’d opened his beer and taken a long swallow. Sloane thought he looked like the oldest, but he couldn’t be sure. They all looked so much alike, they were starting to blend together.

Sloane told them about Liza and how he thought she was at Arty’s house. In the interest of full-disclosure he told them about Arty’s government connections, but their eyes started to glaze a bit so he stopped.

“Yeah, we know Arty,” said one of the redcaps who hadn’t spoken, yet. His voice was deep and slow, and his pauses even slower. Sloane could feel time slipping away like water between his fingers, and he knew he’d lose Liza if they didn’t hurry. He also knew better than to rush a red cap, though, so he clenched his teeth and smiled. “Yeah, he’s one of them anti-homo-sapien types, you know? Always preaching how great things was in fairy and how we should go back there some day. We like it here.”

“We like TV and motors and homo-sapien women,” the young one said.

Sloane almost asked why they used the term homo-sapien instead of human, but decided he didn’t want to know.

“And beer. We flogging love beer,” another one spoke up, and was rewarded by cheers and high-fives from his friends.

Fulsom rolled his eyes. “Children. Can we focus on the mission here? Are you going to help us or not.”

“Yeah, yeah we’ll help,” the tall one said. “Boggy you go call Clara and ask her to bring the plans for Arty’s home. Tell her she needs to get here soon, we’ve got a job.” He swiveled and looked at the slow-talker. “Hugo, you go and talk to Larissa, put together what weapons we’ll need and see if she’s got that cloak of invisibility working, yet.”

Hugo and Boggy left, and the tall one looked at Sloane. “We’ll help you because we don’t like Arty, but we don’t work for free. We each get a hundred bucks an hour, plus a flat grand each for hazard pay. Minimum is two grand a piece, in case the job only takes an hour.”

Sloane ran the calculations in his head. It would run him at least twelve grand. He had that much in savings, but it would clean him out. Still, these guys seemed to know what they were doing. “Ye—”

“Don’t fuck with us, you little elf-mutant,” Fulsom interrupted. Sloane almost groaned aloud. “The feds aren’t paying for this, we are, out of our own pockets. We aren’t exactly rolling in–”

“Whoa, hold on there, fairy breath. No one said anything about going against the feds. That’s another grand apiece right there.”

Sloane glared at Fulsom, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was on his feet, his face getting red. “Your mother was a fairy, and I have elves like you for breakfast. There is no way we are going to pay you–”

“We’ll pay,” Sloane said. He had no idea where he’d come up with the money, but he’d pay.

The redcap sat and smiled, while Fulsom glared and puffed. Sloane ignored them both. “Now, what’s the plan?”

When the redcaps got down to business, they could be surprisingly quick and practical. Hugo showed up with an armload of weapons and showed them how to use the special features on them all. They came up with a plan for approaching the house and practiced on the weapons. Sloane was itching to go after Liza, he was still sore and tired from getting shot, and everything took too long with slow-voiced Hugo explaining it, but he had to admit their weapons were impressive. Sadly, there was no invisibility cloak.

“I’ve got the plans you asked for, Newton,” a melodious female voice said. Sloane turned and saw a curvy, voluptuous woman with dark hair walk in, her hips swaying. At first glance, he would have sworn she was human, but then he noticed the pointy ears and the slight red tinge to her eyes, and he realized she had to be a redcap. He’d never met a female redcap before. Although, now that he got a good look at her, he realized maybe he had and just hadn’t known he’d been talking to a redcap.

Newton’s face split in a smile that reminded Sloane of a kid on Christmas morning. He stood and walked to the woman, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, before leading her over to the couch to sit next to him. She looked as happy as Newton, and Sloane felt an ache. He missed Liza, but he also realized how much he wished she would look like that when she saw him or that he could be as free with his smiles and touches as Newton was with his love. Their relationship had a long way to go and he hoped they got the chance to get there.

“This is my wife Clara,” Newton said. “Clara, this is Agent Rice and Agent Fulsom and they need our help to rescue Rice’s bonded mate from Arty.”

Clara narrowed her eyes and studied them. “And are we going in with them or are we just giving them the plans.”

Newton wrapped an arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her. “I knew you’d be pissed with anything less than full-scale attack.”

Clara smiled and relaxed. “Good. Why don’t you two fill me in on exactly what’s going on?”

Sloane opened his mouth to speak, but two more women walked in. They were in shorts, tank tops, and hiking boots, and covered in dirt and dust, but still clearly gorgeous. “We got a deer hung up out back,” said the first one, who was shorter and more petite than any of the other redcaps and looked all of twelve.

“Thanks, Luce. Why don’t you and Allie come sit here and listen to what these gentlemen, Agent Rice and Agent Fulsom, have to say,” Clara said. “We’re going to attack Arty’s mansion.”

“Sweet,” Allie said. “It’s been boring as fuck around here lately.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

*SLOANE*

The redcaps took up positions around Arty’s house, and Fulsom and Sloane watched the building from the bushes. The afternoon sun beat down hard and the cars zipping past them on the road behind meant they had to move fast, before someone got suspicious. Luckily for them, the satyr seemed to love green growing things and had filled his small side and front yards with bushes and trees that gave them plenty of places to hide.

“This is without a doubt the dumbest thing we have ever done,” Fulsom hissed next to him.

“You can go any time.” Neither of them should have been there and they were very likely to get killed and then fired. He didn’t want Fulsom to leave, but he didn’t want his partner’s death on his hands, either. The plans Clara brought, borrowed from the courthouse where she worked as a clerk, gave them the layout of the house, but it didn’t give them any idea what kind of security system he had or how many guards, or even how many people lived there. The plan was a typical redcap plan, to storm the mansion and take out anyone they saw.

Fulsom grunted, as the redcaps crept up around them. “No one outside,” Newton whispered. “Let’s move in.”

The redcaps led the way, with Sloane and Fulsom following. Sloane held his gun, loaded with iron bullets, in one hand and a knife, with a gnarly eight foot iron blade, in the other. Strapped on his back was a sword that he’d had only a little training on, but could use in a pinch. He had two more blades on each leg and a gun on each hip, as well as another gun in a shoulder holster. Sloane knew he should be feeling something. He’d been in firefights, and he’d killed exactly three people before, but he’d never gone into a situation determined to kill everyone he saw, intending to rip the house apart to find Liza. He knew he should take a less destructive approach, that he should let logic lead, but all he cared about, all he could care about, was getting Liza out and keeping her safe.

Fulsom, a full fae who’d immigrated to the human world eight years ago, felt no such qualms. When Sloane had suggested they hold back, Fulsom had looked at him like he was crazy. They took Sloane’s mate, he said, and they should pay for that. In fairy, there would be no mercy given. Sloane hadn’t pushed farther, except to suggest they keep Arty alive for questioning, but Fulsom said they’d let Liza kill him. She was the one he’d hurt, and she could decide what kind of death he received.

By the time they reached the porch, the redcaps had already blown the door away with light explosives and were inside fighting a pixy and five trolls. Sloane and Fulsom sauntered past them and started looking for Liza. “You take downstairs,” Fulsom said. “I’ll go up.”

“No,” Sloane said, surprising himself. He felt a pull for the first time. “She’s upstairs.”

They were halfway up the stairs when a shot hit the wall inches from Sloane’s head. He and Fulsom dropped and peered through the railing to see a troll standing on the marble floor below, his gun still raised. Sloane and Fulsom fired at the same time and took out the troll in a matter of seconds. Two shots clean through the eyes. Trolls had skin so tough bullets wouldn’t penetrate and a shot to the eyes was the only way to kill them.

An explosion rocked them from below and Sloane leapt up the stairs, with Fulsom close behind. The stairs ended in a long hallway, filled with doors. Sloane started right and saw two satyrs, heading toward them. Satyrs were generally fun-loving creatures, but he’d never met one who didn’t fight dirty when they had to.

Sloane raised his gun, but the satyrs got low and moved fae fast, meaning they were full-blood. They took Sloane down at the knees, and he saw Fulsom go down next to him out of the corner of his eye. Sloane raised his blade, but the satyr crawled on top of him and grabbed his wrist, kneeing him hard in the balls on the way up. Pain flooded Sloane’s senses, along with the smell of liquor and brown sugar. Satyrs always smelled like liquor and brown sugar, and he’d never figured out if it was because they drank all the time or if the smell was just a part of them.

He bucked against the satyr, and the satyr hit him hard in the face with the butt of his gun, then wrapped his hands around Sloane’s neck. Sloane fought blurred vision and the stars that exploded in his head. He gasped for air and fought to shift enough to get his gun arm out from under his body, but the weight of the satyr had him pinned hard.

The hands at his neck were replaced by cold metal and he saw regret in the satyr’s eyes. Sloane twisted, but when he moved the blade bit into his flesh. He was trapped and his biggest regret was that Liza would be stuck there. Even if Reynolds got her out, she’d be sent to West Virginia to be a guinea pig. “Please,” Sloane said. “I have to save her.”

The satyr frowned. “She is necessary to our cause. You can’t have her.” He leaned forward a bit and Sloane tensed for the killing blow. “I’m sorry to have to kill you, it is not my nature.”

The satyr’s face exploded with a bang, and blood and bits of flesh dropped onto Sloane before the satyr’s body collapsed on him and was still. Sloane pushed him off and stood, wiping enough blood off his face to allow him to see. “Thanks,” he said, once he could see Fulsom standing before him, gun in hand.

Fulsom grunted and they moved forward together, Fulsom limping. Sloane glanced at Fulsom’s leg, a question on his face, but Fulsom shook his head and motioned for them to keep moving.

They found her behind the third door, in a pink, frilly room that appeared to have been designed for a six-year-old. Sloane almost didn’t see her in the bed, she was covered in so many layers of blankets, but her face stood out against the pink, pale white, thinner than it had been when he’d seen her last. She was asleep. Sloane went straight for her, but was stopped by Arty, who stepped into his path and put a gun to his chest.

“I might have let you take her,” Arty said. “She’s broken, I’m afraid, and of no more use to me, but you broke into my house and killed my staff, so I’m going to have to kill you.”

“No, you aren’t.” Liza’s voice sounded thin and hoarse, and she didn’t open her eyes. “You are going to die two days from now when I remove your head from your body and cut out your heart. Rice is going to survive today, and you’re going to walk away.”

Arty winced, but he gave no other sign that he’d heard Liza. “Out of respect for your mate, we should take our discussion into the hall.”

Sloane had left Fulsom in that hall and he had no problem turning and heading for the door to let his partner have a whack at Arty. He just had to make sure Fulsom didn’t kill Arty, since Liza clearly wanted that job. He was two steps from the door when a loud crash swung him back around to see Arty slump to the floor. Liza stared down at him, an ugly pink lamp in her hands, before her eyes went wide and she swayed on her feet. Sloane was next to her in a moment, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her to his chest.

“You look like death,” she said, her eyes wild, before she passed out. Sloane remembered the blood on his face and thought Liza’s description accurate. Sloane ran from the room, Fulsom next to him and headed for the stairs. A redcap, whose name he’d never learned, intercepted them.

“Feds are here,” he said. “Can’t leave this way.”

Sloane remembered there was a back staircase from the plans, and the redcap herded them in that direction. He didn’t lead them down the stairs, but took them up to the roof. The roof that had its own helicopter landing pad. Sloane shook his head, wondering what kind of people Arty knew with the carbon credits to fly a helicopter.

“The house is surrounded,” Newton said, a grin splitting his face. “I’ve always wanted to escape this way.” He shrugged off his backpack and pulled a cord on the bag. In seconds, the bag became a huge inflatable ball with a hole for them to climb inside it.

“Uh, yeah,” Fulsom said. “Or we could just take the fire escape.” He pointed across the heli pad to two metal struts on the roof.

Newton laughed. “Go ahead. I’m taking the ball.”

Sloane followed Fulsom, wondering how he was going to carry Liza and climb down the fire escape, but his concern was short-lived. When they reached the edge of the roof they could see that the metal ladder had been cut off about three feet from the rooftop. Fulsom groaned and started back toward Newton, who was already leaning the ball against the foot-high wall that surrounded the heli-pad. Newton winked at them and held the ball open for them to climb inside. It was suffocatingly tight and hot inside the ball and, when Newton slid in, Sloane was sure he’d be crushed by his accomplices before he made it to the ground. Not to mention the target they’d make trapped inside the ball.

Newton started rocking his body to get the ball off the roof, and Fulsom and Sloane followed suit. The movement forced them all even closer and, just as the ball tipped over the wall and off the roof, Liza started to scream.

The ball bounced off something and sent them careening to the ground at an even faster rate. The ball hit the ground with a bone-rattling thud, bounced once, hit again and popped, leaving them encased in two layers of plastic. “Woo-hoo,” Newton hollered. He pulled out a knife and slit the plastic open to allow them all to escape. Newton and Fulsom took off for the woods behind the house and Sloane followed, hoisting Liza back up into his arms. She fought against him, pounding his chest with her fists and swinging her legs like she was looking for something to kick.

“Liza, please. I need you to calm down.”

She didn’t hear him. She kept screaming and struggling. Her eyes were closed, scrunched tight, and he didn’t know if she was dreaming or if she was awake and the ball and the fall had frightened her.

“Liza,” he tried again, putting more force into his voice. “It’s Sloane. I’ve got you, but you’re going to get us both killed if you don’t calm down.” He repeated this in increasing volume, until it seemed to sink in, and Liza whimpered and stilled. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to make it all better, but he had to get them as far away from Arty as possible, even though he wanted to go back and kill Arty long and slow for whatever he’d done to Liza.

He’d only made it a few steps into the woods when a shot whizzed past and embedded in the tree next to them, shooting out bark that smacked him in the face.

He dropped and moved behind another tree. He put Liza down and rose, pulling his gun as he did. He scanned the woods but saw nothing.

“Don’t shoot the pixy,” Liza muttered. Sloane didn’t know if she was speaking to him or dreaming. He noticed a flutter of green at the edge of the forest. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought they were wings. He swore under his breath. If there was any chance the shooter was a pixy, he couldn’t shoot. Liza had never asked him for anything, and he couldn’t deny her request, even if it was just a dream.

“If you’re a pixy, walk away. I’ve got Liza and I’m helping her. Just let me take her somewhere safe.”

“Where?” A male voice yelled. “To a lab where she’ll be treated like a science experiment?”

“No, I’m trying to keep her out of there.”

A shot rang out and Sloane ducked back behind the tree. He should have moved, but he couldn’t leave Liza and picking her up and moving her would give away any new cover he found. He didn’t have a whole lot of options, so he went for the truth and hoped it worked. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but Liza asked me not to shoot the pixy. I’m listening to her, because I’m her bonded mate. I’m not going to let any harm come to her.”

Silence settled over the forest, and Sloane figured he was screwed. “If that’s true, why doesn’t she tell me that herself?”

“Just shoot the fairy and let’s go,” Fulsom called from somewhere deeper in the forest.

“I’m a pixy, asshole. And I’m the one with the gun trained on your buddy, so let him answer the question, or I keep shooting.”

Sloane looked down at Liza, who was on the ground where he’d left her, her eyes open wide but blank, her mouth moving but making no sound. “She’s not…” Sloane’s voice cracked and he swallowed hard. “She’s not lucid.”

“I’m coming out. Don’t shoot me. I can help.”

Sloane watched the pixie, the same one from the front hall of Arty’s mansion, flitter up and fly through the trees to him. He landed gently next to Liza and placed a hand on her forehead. Sloane felt an unreasonable surge of jealousy, but he forgot it when Liza’s eyes cleared and she looked at the pixy. Pain filled her eyes and contorted her features, and she screamed. “Sleep,” the pixy said. Liza’s eyes closed, and her screams stopped.

The pixy fluttered up to Sloane’s eye level. There were tears in his eyes. “Arty used her. He made her touch ten different bodies and forced her to sleep after each one. It was more than her mind could handle. I’m not sure if she’ll ever be able to cope with what she’s been through. I told him… But I didn’t stop him.” He shook his head. “Her pain is on me. I will do what I can to heal her, but she needs time. She needs to sleep and stay inside herself until she’s ready to face the world again. I can’t help her until then.”

“And if she’s never ready?” Sloane asked, his heart pounding and his chest sore.

“Then I can help her to die.” The pixy looked down at Liza and sighed. “Where are you going to take her?”

“To Curtis,” Sloane said. He hadn’t thought it out, hadn’t expected Liza to need to be hidden, but he knew that there would be no better place to take her.

The pixy nodded, needing no more information. “I’ll check on her in three days.”

Sloane watched the pixy fly out of the forest, then bent to pick up Liza. When he lifted her, something pulled in his chest and pain exploded, making his vision go white and nearly causing him to drop her. He leaned against the nearest tree and breathed slowly and deeply, until he could see again. Exhaustion still nipped at his vision, making it a bit blurry, but he tightened his grip on Liza and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He moved in the general direction he’d heard Fulsom. He knew he could call out and Fulsom would help him, but he didn’t want to let go of Liza.

He didn’t see or hear Fulsom until the troll’s arms were wrapping around Liza. Sloane panicked and pulled her closer, almost pitching backward.

“Shit, Rice,” Fulsom’s voice finally registered. “You don’t look so good. Let me take her.”

Sloane wouldn’t let go. He’d come so close to losing her and panic whirred through his exhausted system at the idea of letting her go and never seeing her again. Could he really trust Fulsom wouldn’t turn her over to SPA? He knew his concern, after everything Fulsom had risked to help him, was unfounded, but some primal instinct took over the rational side of his brain and made him desperate to hold onto her.

“Here, Kindred, I got this,” Sloane heard the redcap say, right before a brick wall hit him in the face and everything went black.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

*LIZA*

Liza rolled over to see Sloane lying next to her in bed. His eyes were closed, an overhead fan blowing his hair gently back and forth across his forehead. He looked so peaceful and she wondered how he could stand to be in the same bed with her after what she’d done. She stretched out her arm to touch him, but pulled back. She couldn’t touch, couldn’t let herself feel, because everything hurt too much and was clouded by death. She watched the rise and fall of Sloane’s chest to make sure he was still breathing, then rolled away. She faced the blank, cream-colored wall in a room she didn’t recognize and slipped back down inside herself, where pain and fear and loneliness couldn’t touch her, where the visions couldn’t reach her.

CHAPTER FORTY

*SLOANE*

Sloane woke with a start and sat up in bed. He needed to hold onto Liza. Someone was taking her from him. The whir of the fan and the stuffy air clued him in to a change in his surroundings. He let go of his panic when he saw Liza next to him. The room was neat, but shabby, the blanket under him thin and scratchy. Liza faced the wall, her breathing even and he didn’t want to wake her, so he eased out of bed and put his feet on the cold, linoleum floor gently. He walked out into a living room with a well-worn, green couch, and two big, scary looking dogs stretched out liked they owned it. Curtis, seated in a rocking chair in the center of the room, sipped an iced tea and watched Sloane as he crossed the room.

“You try talking to the girl?” Curtis asked.

Sloane shook his head. “She’s asleep.”

“No, she ain’t. Go try and talk to her, see if you can get through. We can’t leave her there too long or we might lose her.”

Sloane’s heart stuttered and he went back to the bedroom without asking any more questions. He sat down next to Liza and touched her shoulder. She flinched and pulled away and his stomach twisted. Why did she keep pulling away from him? Was it so awful to be bonded to him? “Liza, sweetie, are you awake?”

She didn’t move, didn’t make any indication of hearing him.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here. I need you, Liza. I’m not angry that you shot me, okay. I know you didn’t have any choice. I just want you back and healthy. I won’t even push you about the bond any more, I just want you to come back from wherever you’ve gone and tell me to fuck off yourself, okay?”

He reached for her again and placed a hand on her back. She didn’t pull away and he left his hand there. Just touching her, just being near her wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to hold her and talk to her and know that she would be okay, but for the moment, touching her would have to be enough. “I’m going to give you one more day, Liza, then I’m coming in there after you. I’m not going to walk away, no matter what.”

A tear slipped from Liza’s eye and slid down her face and over her nose. Sloane took it as a sign she heard him and he kept talking. “I’m scared for you. I know it’s hard, and I can only imagine the pain and… I’m not sure I would have survived what you went through, but you did. You’re so strong, I know you can come back. You need to come back and make Arty pay for what he did to you.”

Sloane felt a muscle flex in Liza’s back. “Liza, I know our bond is overwhelming to you. It’s overwhelming to me, but I don’t regret it, not for one moment. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I’m lucky to be bonded to you and I want you to come back so I can get to know you better, because I’m sure I’m only going to like you more the more I get to know you. Don’t deprive me of that opportunity, baby.”

Sloane stayed with Liza and talked to her until her breathing changed and he knew sleep had overtaken her. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he left her and went to the living room, to find Curtis in the same spot, with what appeared to be the same glass of tea in his hand.

Curtis stood. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch,” he said.

“I can’t leave her here alone.”

“She ain’t alone. Got the dogs here watching over her.”

Sloane eyed the dogs and looked at Curtis, eyebrows high.

Curtis smiled. “They’re hellhounds, son. She’ll be well looked after.” Curtis studied the dogs for a moment. “Lazarus, go on and lay down with the girl.” The larger dog, a russet brown, with a spiky brindle and the biggest teeth Sloane had ever seen, stepped daintily off the couch and leapt onto the bed next to Liza in one bound. He landed without a sound or a bounce and snuggled up against Liza’s back. Liza didn’t move and Sloane did feel an odd sort of comfort that the dog was with her.

“I appreciate them watching over her, but I don’t want to leave her.”

“You need to eat and I got nothing here for you. Besides, I want to talk to you and I don’t want her to overhear. She’s got enough on her mind.”

Sloane couldn’t argue with Curtis’s logic, even if every instinct he had told him to stay by Liza. “Okay, as long as we aren’t gone long.”

Curtis nodded and led the way to the front door, his movements those of a man younger than he appeared to be.

“What time is it, anyway?” Sloane asked as he stepped outside with Curtis and blinked in the bright, hot sun. “How long have I been out?”

“It’s ten in the morning. You’ve been out about twelve hours.”

Sloane remembered the brick wall. “What did the redcap hit me with?”

Curtis smiled at him and walked on, leaving Sloane to follow. “His fist,” he said over his shoulder.

Sloane whistled. “He packs a hell of a punch.”

Curtis didn’t say another word until the two of them were seated in the diner. “Redcaps are fun-loving mischief makers, and their favorite form of mischief is violence and destruction. They are well-built for it, and I expect you to keep that information to yourself.”

Sloane nodded. “After what we did, yesterday, I doubt I’ll have anyone to tell.”

Curtis studied him and nodded to himself, just as the waitress strode up and took their orders. “You might be in more trouble than you think,” he said, as soon as the waitress walked away.

Sloane’s heart sank. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive more trouble than he already had. “What else is there?”

“There’s no doubt Arty abused Liza and her ability, he nearly killed her, but there’s a good chance she owed him a favor.”

Sloane groaned. “No, no, no. If she did then…” He knew Liza had been helped by Arty and, if she’d thanked him or agreed to owe him anything, he could claim his kidnapping of her and use of her abilities was her carrying out that favor. In that case, Sloane would be in the wrong for attacking Arty’s house and killing his people. “What does that mean for us?”

Curtis shrugged. “You went in not knowing about the favor and you rescued your bonded mate from her kidnapper, no one would fault you for that. But you killed Arty’s people and he could legitimately demand recompense.”

“What kind of recompense? Can he take her back?”

“No one’s going to take your mate from you, but he’d be in his rights to ask for a blood payment or a favor, most likely he’ll ask for money.”

Sloane shook his head and rubbed his temples. “What if he tries to take her away again?”

“If he does, it will be within your rights to kill him. He could try to claim that she hasn’t fulfilled her debt to him, but I don’t think he’ll get any support for that claim.”

Their food arrived and they ate in silence. Liza had told him how good the food was, and it smelled and looked delicious, but he tasted nothing. He had to protect himself and Liza from SPA, Arty, and anyone else who might find her ability valuable, and he had to find a way to bring her back to herself. A ball of panic started to build in his chest and he thought, at first, that he might be having a heart attack. He never panicked. Extreme emotion just wasn’t his thing, but he couldn’t breathe past the panic threatening to engulf him. “We have to go back. We can’t leave her alone. What if—”

Curtis place a gnarled hand over his, and he felt calm wash through him. “She’s fine. The dogs would let me know if she wasn’t.”

Sloane nodded. “Have you gotten any further figuring out who Arty is working for and what he wants?”

Curtis leaned back in his seat and sighed. “I looked into this righ carraig you say Arty is searching for and I came up empty. There was no rock in Fairy that fueled any sort of technology or power grid. I’d never heard of such a thing, but I’d never had any reason to learn how or why the lights stayed lit at night. I was a prince and a warrior and incurious about such things. It was a failing of my youth. I talked to those with more knowledge than I have, and none of them had heard of such a rock, but they claimed Fairy was full of another kind of rock. They said the rock impeded technology, and that it was the rock and not tradition that prevented us from having technology in Fairy.”

“And you think that’s the rock he wants to find? He actually wants to limit technology here?”

Curtis nodded. “Or end it all together. I don’t know what Arty is after, but it’s clear Arty loves money and power and I’ve heard talk… Some are afraid that humans will revert to their old ways and destroy this earth as Fairy was destroyed. We have already seen this beginning to happen, airplanes are flying again, and more cars are being built. Perhaps fear of increased damage to earth and to fairy is what drives Arty, but I wonder if he does not believe fae would have more power here if we didn’t have to compete with technology.”

“Magic would certainly have greater currency if humans had no other way to light their homes or travel or–”

“Or live the way they’re accustomed. One who held the reins of such power, who could control who got technology or magic and who didn’t, would be exceedingly powerful.”

Sloane could picture it. Arty using the rocks as he saw fit and charging people for the luxuries they desired. He could get very rich, if he placed the rocks so that no one understood what they really did, so no one else could control them. “You think he wants to help the fae to live as they used to?”

Curtis shrugged. “He doesn’t seem the sort to concern himself with the well-being of others, but you can’t be a king without subjects.”

“Well, Arty isn’t the king I’d choose,” Sloane said. He remembered what Liza had told him about Curtis, that he’d been a king in Fairy and had ruled for hundreds of years. “And what do you want?”

Curtis smiled. “I’m not opposed to a world in which technology is limited and the fae regain their proper place and status. But I do not want Arty to rule, either.” Curtis took a long swallow of iced tea and stood. “I think we need to focus first on healing your mate.”

That was enough for Sloane. He stood and started back to the house, dropping money on the table as he went. Curtis chuckled and followed him out.

The dog had curled himself around Liza and she still slept in its warm, furry embrace. Sloane ached for her and wished she’d let him curl up with her like that.

“You should,” Curtis said stepping up behind him. “Your touch will help her heal. Just don’t let her push you away.” He snapped his fingers and the dog leapt from the bed and walked out of the room, head high, without a glance at Sloane.

Sloane climbed onto the bed and curled himself around Liza, as the dog had. He felt her tense and push back against him, but Curtis said he could help her and he wouldn’t be pushed away. He relaxed his grip a bit and nuzzled his face in her hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and sweat and the human, musky odor that was only her, and she relaxed and remained asleep. He couldn’t sleep, so he held her and let that be enough. Enough that he’d gotten her back.

Eventually, he started to get a little bored. He needed to do something, but he didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to let her go. So he got out of bed long enough to ask Curtis if he had any way to watch TV. Curtis wheeled in an old tablet computer and plugged it into his solar outlet. Curtis had a solar panel on his roof and it looked like it’d been repurposed, but the man didn’t ask Sloane to limit his usage or warn him about the need to conserve power.

Sloane managed to arrange the laptop between them and searched the internet until he found what he was looking for, a program from fifty years ago about remodeling homes. Sloane didn’t watch much TV, but he loved those shows. To see the way people used to live, the space they found it necessary to have, and the way they used electricity like the supply would always be unending. Sloane remembered what it had been like to live in that time, not the fifty years ago of the show, but a time when new houses were built every day and there were no limits on electricity usage. He’d been twenty when the catastrophe changed his way of life, and he’d had to change his ideas about what his future would be. The construction of new homes was halted as part of the campaign to limit the release of more carbons, and refugees from the coasts moved West and East and filled the homes that already existed. One-story homes of more than 3,000 square feet had been converted into two and three family homes, and people learned to live with less space. Not that he’d given much thought at twenty to what size his future house would be, but he’d had to give up his car, a car he’d spent five years saving up to buy. A beautiful, classic mustang. Those old shows allowed him a glimpse of a world that seemed so different and impossible, a world in which he would have had that car.

Liza tensed as the sounds of the intro flowed into the room, but then she relaxed and leaned more deeply into him. He watched the show with her leaning against him, half his attention on her, the other half on the laptop, sensitive to any sign she might be coming around. She gave none, so he loaded another show and another, until the solar outlet ran out of juice and the computer went dark.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

*LIZA*

Liza felt Sloane against her back and his touch was almost more than she could take. She tensed, waiting for a vision or a nightmare, but when none came she relaxed. She knew she should push him away, but that would mean moving, that would risk a confrontation, and she had the strength for neither. So she lay there stiff, feeling him and smelling him and glad of his presence, even as she feared it. She let him stay and sunk back down into herself, away from reality.

The sound of music startled her and she feared a vision, but then she recognized the music for what it was. The intro to one of those house-hunting shows from fifty-years ago. She’d always loved those old shows. Ellington had made fun of the people, when he’d watched with her, but she’d loved and envied their anticipation and hope for a happy home.

She almost rolled over to watch it with him. She almost laughed when the husband of the newly married couple explained why they needed four bedrooms for two of them. She almost stayed with him. But she couldn’t. It hurt too much and she was too tired. She fell asleep listening to the closing credits and smelling him and feeling his warmth.

Someone rolled Liza onto her back and put a cool hand on her head. She didn’t resist, sure that Sloane was moving her for some reason. But she didn’t smell Sloane, she smelled a masculine cologne that had been laid on too thick and she knew he’d never wear something like that. He hadn’t left her for hours and hours, and if he’d gone, it must be because… No, she’d die before she let Arty use her again. She forced her eyes open and saw a flutter of wings and a concerned face staring down at her. Arty’s pixy butler. He’d found her. She flailed against him and whimpered, trying to find the strength to scream, but her throat was still raw and she was so very tired.

“I need you to touch her,” the pixy said. “She needs to know you’re here.” He spoke calmly, but his hands held her down firmly, one on her forehead and the other on her waist.

“I’m here, Baby.” Sloane sounded calm. “It’s okay. Leo’s going to help you.”

She tried to turn her head, but the pixy wouldn’t let her. She growled at him and he smiled and released her. She rolled her head on the pillow and saw Sloane, and something inside her melted and re-formed into a new shape. His face, looking so concerned and serious, made her feel safe. She wanted to stay there with him and not retreat back into herself. Then Leo moved her head to face him and placed a hand on her forehead.

“In a perfect world,” Leo said. “I’d heal your body and you’d go through years of therapy, but we don’t have time for that. I can heal your body, your exhaustion and your throat. I can heal your gift and I can even heal the worst of the damage that’s been done to your mind, but it’s going to hurt like hell, and you’re going to have to choose to do the rest. You have to choose to come back to us. You will have to decide why to come back, but I’ll give you a few reasons. Rice misses you and he wants you back. If you don’t come back, you’ll die and most bonded mates don’t fare well when their mate dies. So come back for him. Arty is going after your mother. He liked having a banshee on staff and figures a full-blood will be less fragile. Come back to save your mother and destroy Arty. Curtis can’t hide you here forever and there’s a whole army of folks looking for you to make you their guinea pig. Finding you here would bring Curtis more attention than he likes. So come back for Curtis. You saved my life and I owe you a debt for that. If you die, I will never be able to re-pay you and I don’t want to carry such a heavy debt for the rest of my life, so come back for me.”

While Leo spoke, Liza felt him digging around in her mind and in her body, probing with the feather-light touch of his mind. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it didn’t feel comfortable either. When he finished speaking, that light touch became fingers grasping and pulling and twisting, putting things right in her body and her head. The pain blasted through her and she felt as though she was being ripped in two. Surely, no one could endure so much pain and survive. She opened her mouth to scream, to achieve a release of that kind, but it was like something had been stuffed over her mouth and she couldn’t scream, couldn’t even move her lips. She twisted, her body instinctively trying to find a position of comfort, but her body was tethered to the bed by invisible threads. She tried to retreat back inside herself, but that avenue had been closed off to her, too. She looked into Leo’s eyes and let his words play over and over in her mind, reminding herself of why she was undergoing the pain, of what she had to go back to do. The pain changed, from something she wanted to get away from, to something she took a perverse pleasure in, because the pain had to happen for her to heal and take her life back. To reclaim what Arty had taken from her and to make him feel pain every bit as excruciating as her own.

Despite her fierce thoughts, the pain must have overwhelmed her at some point, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up to birds chirping and early morning sunlight. She had so much energy, she felt like she could get up and run a marathon. She opened her eyes and the world exploded into Technicolor and she felt an incredible joy to be alive and whole. She felt Sloane’s arms around her and she rolled over and pressed herself against him. Against the most beautiful, kindest man she’d ever known. She ran a hand down his bare arm and reveled in the tingles that sizzled and popped through her at just touching him. She still felt afraid and a part of her wanted to curl back up and hide, but Leo had made sure she felt good enough to stand on her own two feet and she wasn’t going to turn away from that gift. She wouldn’t turn away from Sloane. Not ever again.

She put her mouth to his neck and breathed him in, laying small kisses up the side of his neck, and he groaned and opened his eyes. The smile that spread across his face warmed her and did as much to chase away the shadows as Leo had done.

“You’re back,” he whispered.

She nodded, unable to speak. After everything she’d been through, all the pain and the death, she wanted to feel something good, and Sloane looked and felt so, so good. She ran a hand under his shirt and felt his warm skin stretched over hard muscles, and a thrill of raw lust streaked through her. She looked into his sea-colored eyes and she wanted nothing more than to be closer to him. He slid a hand under her shirt and pressed her tight against him, as though he could read her thoughts.

A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her of her reservations, of all the reasons she should hold back with him, should deny the warm feeling of love that swelled along with the lust, but she ignored it. She had turned away from Sloane out of fear, and she was done being afraid. If she had died in Arty’s house, she’d never have known how it felt to give herself over, body and soul, to Sloane and, after tasting death in ten different flavors, she didn’t want to ignore any experience life had to offer. After she’d shot him and believed him dead, she’d realized how easily she could lose him. Sloane belonged to her and she wouldn’t lose him again.

She wrapped her arms around him and cupped his ass, rolling her hips against him, and feeling that he was ready for whatever she wanted to do. There was so much she wanted to do.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He asked, his body tense with restraint.

She looked into his eyes, those blue-grey eyes that seemed to sparkle and shimmer like the sea in sunlight. “I’m sorry I held back before. I was scared, but I’m done being scared.”

She pressed her lips to his and kissed him, tasting him, caressing him with her mouth, to show him how she felt. This would be no frantic, need-driven act. She broke away from him and pulled his shirt over his head. He still held back, letting her do what she wanted, not touching her. The pink, puckered scar on his chest reminded her of what she’d done and her heart clenched painfully in her chest. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, I had no idea… I didn’t mean to get so close to… My hand was shaking, and I almost…” she couldn’t say the words. The wound sat on his otherwise perfect chest just inches from his heart. If she’d had to make an x on his chest to show where his heart lay, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have chosen the spot of the scar. “I could have… And you’re here. How are you here?”

He reached for her then and ran one finger gently down her face from temple to chin. That small motion brought the tears. How could he be so kind, so affectionate after what she’d done?

His expression twisted. “Don’t cry, Liza. I know you didn’t want to hurt me. You told me how to find you before you shot me. You couldn’t have meant to kill me.”

She choked as another sob racked her body. She swallowed hard, and forced herself to calm down. “Arty said he would kill us both unless I worked for him. I had to prove my loyalty to him by killing you, or he would torture and kill you slowly while I watched and then kill me. When I ran into you on the street, he had a sniper with a rifle on you. He was going to shoot you if I didn’t do it, and they would have taken you back to Arty’s and hurt you. I didn’t have any way out and I had to make it look good. I had to make him believe I’d killed you. He wanted you dead because of what you knew about him and I had to make it look like…” Her explanation sounded pathetic to her own ears. Nothing could justify or excuse what she’d done.

“So you had to make it look like you’d really killed me,” Sloane said, his tone matter-of-fact. “And you went back to him and allowed him to torture you the way he did. Why?”

Liza laughed, but she felt no humor or joy, only a fierce regret and anger. “I thought I might be able to get information about his plans, proof of what he was up to. I figured he would kill me no matter what I did, but if I could get information from him first it would make it worth it. It was him, you know. He was behind the serial killings of the college women.”

He leaned back, his eyes wide. “Do you have proof of that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have proof of anything. He said he killed them because they have dragon blood and the dragons were the protectors of that rock he wants. He doesn’t care who’s killed as long as he gets what he wants.”

“Did he tell you what he wants?”

“No, nothing other than the rock. He wanted me to find out why some people in his group were killed. He actually has a group of people he’s convinced to follow him.” Liza shuddered and Sloane reached out and pulled her into his chest.

She released a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. He stroked her back and kissed her temple. “Curtis thinks he wants to use the rock to control who can use technology and who can’t and make himself more powerful. I would guess that the majority of his people don’t know what he’s been doing to achieve that goal.”

“You didn’t see,” Liza said, finding it harder to breathe. “The people who work for him, the dead ones I touched, they’ve done horrible, horrible things.”

He kissed the top of her head, and she let him comfort her. “What are we going to do now?” she said into his chest.

He chuckled. “Well, we can’t go back to SPA, because we’ve both gone off the reservation as far as they’re concerned.”

Just when Liza thought she couldn’t feel any guiltier. “You’ve lost your job because of me?”

He sighed. “I lost my job because of me.”

“If I hadn’t shot you…” She wasn’t really sure how that would have changed things, but she felt certain it would have.

He pulled away and looked at her. “You did what you had to do, and I did what I had to do. Now, we’re going to find Arty and we’re going to end this. If we find some proof along the way that might get us our jobs back, all the better, but I don’t regret anything that’s happened and I never will. I have you back safe and that’s all that matters.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sighed when he opened his mouth to argue. “I mean I’m very happy to be with you, but we need to eat, we need to work, and we need to not have people trying to kill us.”

He smiled. “Your friend Curtis has some ideas about that, actually. But first, we need to finish what we started. Arty’s minions killed my friends and they hurt you and he’s going to pay.”

“You have a plan how we’re going to accomplish this?”

“Baby, I’ve always got a plan.” He leaned in and kissed her. She thought she might just drown in that kiss and die happily.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

*SLOANE*

“Who are these people?” Liza asked looking around the small sloop at the six redcaps, two of them male and four of them female, who were happily arguing about which explosives would create the biggest waves and whether or not they’d be able to surf them. They’d already established which of them would be in charge of getting photographic evidence of the drill, and that guy was pouting. They’d borrowed the sloop from one of Curtis’s friends and the way the redcaps wrestled and goofed around, even Sloane was worried they would break something and he’d have to explain it to Curtis.

Sloane knew he should be more apprehensive about redcaps and explosives and the pirates they were about to face, but he couldn’t stop smiling. He had Liza back and she’d stopped questioning the bond. The night before, she’d cuddled with him on the couch as they chatted with Curtis about the best way to get Arty’s attention. Even now, she had her hand in his, unable to stop touching him. “They might seem a little crazy, but they’ll get the job done.”

Liza nodded and scanned the horizon. He followed her gaze. The sea rolled calmly beneath their boat, the sun shone almost too brightly off the blue waves, and Sloane breathed in the calm and peace the sea always brought him.

“Shouldn’t we be seeing a pirate ship?” Liza asked. “How far are we from the drill?”

Sloane had always had an ability to know his exact location anywhere on the sea, it spoke to him and gave him landmarks that he felt more than saw. “We’ve got about another mile before we drop in and swim to the drill.”

She nodded and took her hand from his to pull out her gun and check it again. The redcaps would dive, since they were the ones with the explosives, and Liza and Sloane would watch for trouble from the boat. Sloane wanted to dive, to touch the sea and be in his element, but someone had to stand guard.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked.

Liza bit her lip and looked back out over the sea. She nodded and Sloane noticed her hands were shaking as she held her gun.

“Because if you’re not, you can go below decks and one of the redcaps can stay here with me.”

The redcaps hooted with laughter and Liza flinched. She turned to look at Sloane, worry flickering through her brown eyes. “I want to stay. I’m not afraid.”

Sloane did his best not to let his concern show. If he doubted her, she would doubt herself all the more. Still, he worried that she might fall apart and disappear back inside herself. She might not be as ready for violence as she believed. “Good,” he said, to reassure her. She looked away again, still chewing on that bottom lip.

Their path to the drill presented no obstacles. The pirates, if they were around, were closer to the drill. The redcaps donned their scuba gear like they dressed to dive every day and disappeared below the surface of the water with barely a splash. He and Liza took up their posts at opposite ends of the boat and Sloane scanned the water. He didn’t even see a mermaid and it seemed like only moments later that the redcaps were popping back up onto the boat, all smiles.

“Any trouble?” Sloane asked.

Newton shook his head. “No trouble and no drill, brother. They moved on.”

Shit. The news shouldn’t have surprised him, since they’d anticipated the drill being moved, but they’d established no plan for finding the drill, and the ocean could take three lifetimes to search. Especially without access to a plane.

Liza’s face had reddened and she walked over to him, her eyes blazing. “They were in this spot for a while and they risked being close to the mermaids to access it. I’d bet they’re still in the area.”

Still in the area sure, but the area was the fucking ocean and if they picked the wrong direction…

“Circles,” Liza said. “We’ll sail in ever-widening circles until we find something.”

“Okay,” he said, looking to the redcaps. “Change of plan. We’re going to search for this thing, but we’re probably going to find pirates first. When we do, could you dive and start looking for the drill? Liza and I will fight, but we’ll need you to destroy the drill or the whole mission’s a waste. Arty won’t care about a few dead pirates. As soon as the drill’s done, get back up here and help us fight. Is that cool?”

The tall redcap looked to his wife, as did the rest of the redcaps. The wives nodded and grinned. “Sounds like a party to me,” Clara said. The redcaps whooped and Sloane sailed them out.

It didn’t take long to find trouble. The wind had picked up, blowing them forward at a fast clip, when they spotted the ship in the distance. Sloane sailed straight for it and hoped they’d find pirates. A family on a pleasure cruise would put them back at square one and Sloane wanted to get the job done that day. Next to him, Liza licked her lips and leaned forward, like that would help her see who sailed toward them.

Pirates sailed whatever they could steal, and they didn’t make themselves obvious by flying a skull and crossbones, as helpful as that might be. Sloane couldn’t be sure they were what he hoped for until they glided right up next to the other boat and he saw five greasy, dirty men, two of them with guns brandished and the other three with knives. The redcaps didn’t wait for a signal from Sloane or Liza, but dove overboard and disappeared beneath the surface of the sea. The pirates watched the redcaps dive, but didn’t seem concerned. They probably had guards below the surface, too.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Liza called, her smile bright and sunny. “You must be the coast guard.”

The pirates laughed. “Sugar, you can call me whatever you want, just so long as you scream it.”

Liza raised her gun and pointed it at the asshole who’d threatened her. Startled, Sloane pulled his own gun and aimed it at the next nearest pirate. He’d hoped to take things a little more slowly, but Liza seemed to be leading the charge and her face was set in a stony mask that broached no arguing. “Plan?” he whispered without moving his mouth.

She laughed. “My partner here is a little put out by my aggression, boys. He doesn’t seem to understand that I am so mad I can taste it and the only thing that’s going to make me feel better is seeing your blood all over that pretty little boat of yours.”

The man closest to them paled and took a step back. He started to raise his own gun and Liza’s gun exploded. Sloane hadn’t expected the shot, but he kept his weapon trained on the other man with a gun and watched Liza hit her target, who fell down on the deck in an unmoving heap. Liza laughed, a dry, emotionless laugh. “Should I feel bad that that felt so good?” she asked. “Anyone else want to make a move? I could use the target practice.”

Sloane felt the need to get control of the situation. He had the experience and he should be leading the mission, but he understood Liza’s need to have control after everything that had happened to her, he could hear the instability in her voice and he didn’t want to do anything to send her back into herself and out of his reach. If killing pirates was the therapy she needed, he’d let her have it. He’d never met a pirate who hadn’t killed at least ten innocent people, they were a menace, and kept good people off the seas and fearful. Their deaths would be no great loss and he’d tell Liza that if she ever felt bad about killing them.

“What do you want?” asked one of the pirates from the back.

“I want your boss on his knees before me,” Liza said. “Do you think you could get him here?”

A blast of water shot up half a mile away and the pirates swung their heads that way, eyes wide.

Liza smiled a slow, toothy smile that did nothing to reassure Sloane about the state of her sanity. “Our friends just blew up your—” Sloane started, when another fountain of water interrupted him, then another and another. Before the last blast, the redcaps climbed back onto the boat hooting and laughing.

Sloane glared at them, keeping his gun trained on the pirates, until they noticed him and shut up. Liza hadn’t stopped grinning. “Did you get the drill?” Sloane asked.

The nearest redcap looked at him like he was crazy and shook his head. “We wouldn’t be back here if we hadn’t.”

“Shit, you blew up the drill?” the nearest pirate asked. “We had twenty guys down there guarding it.”

The redcap shrugged. “After we started throwing explosives around, they took off.”

The redcaps stepped up next to Sloane and Liza and drew their own guns.

“Look, we were just here to guard the drill,” the pirate said. “If the drill’s gone, so are we.”

Sloane shook his head, suddenly uncomfortable with their plan. The idea had been to draw Arty out on their own terms and their own turf. They wanted to distract him from his search for Liza’s mother, and figured that if they got his attention and pissed him off enough, he’d show his face. It had all made sense when they didn’t have any better plan, but the pirates didn’t look as worried as he thought they should. Something felt off.

“Call your boss,” Liza said. “Tell him Liza blew up his drill, and she’d like to talk to him.”

“What am I, your fucking secretary service?” The pirate asked.

Liza’s expression didn’t change. “You’re going to have to call him to tell him we blew up his drill, so you might as well give him the rest of the message.”

“I’d rather tell him after we’ve killed you.” The pirate laughed, just as Sloane felt the boat rock and spun to see men in wetsuits scramble up onto the sloop. Pulling themselves onto the boat put them at a distinct disadvantage and the redcaps were slashing at them with blades and shooting at them, but as one fell back into the water, another one took his place.

Liza glared at the pirate. “Call them off.”

The pirate shrugged. “Why should I?”

Sloane saw the pirate fall back before he heard the shot and he spun to see Liza shaking. “I won’t go back to him. I won’t.” She aimed and shot down another of the pirates.

Sloane pushed back the fear that had started to rise in him. “Liza, sweetie, if you kill them all, they won’t be able to call Arty. If they don’t call Arty, we won’t find out who he’s working for, and get the proof we need to clear our names.”

The remaining two pirates had taken cover behind a crate. “We’ve already got the righ carraig, did you know that? The world is changing and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“How’s that work for you?” Sloane asked. “You want to live in a world without technology?”

“Hell, yes,” the pirate said. “We’d be a lot harder to track if the cops didn’t have helicopters or motor boats or radar. We could own the seas.”

A pop sounded next to Sloane’s ear and left it ringing. He watched as the pirate who’d been talking fell back and hit the decks. Sloane looked at Liza and wondered why he felt no fear. He should have been afraid of her and her killing spree, but he still felt the need to protect her. The bond told him she was still vulnerable and hurting. “Liza, please stop shooting people.”

She didn’t take her eyes off the last pirate. “He said he would rule the seas and hurt more people. He can’t hurt anyone if he’s dead.”

“Yes, but we need someone left to call Arty.”

She looked at him, her eyes were glassy with tears. “I don’t feel anything. I’ve killed them and I don’t feel bad about it. I should feel bad, shouldn’t I?”

“We’ll worry about your morals later, okay? For now, let’s forget all of that and work on getting Arty here.”

She nodded and trained her gun on the last pirate. “Call Arty now or I’ll kill you.”

The pirate had a phone to his ear so quickly, Sloane wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it. The pirate listened for a few moments and shook his head. “He’s not answering.”

“Then call Arty’s boss and tell him to come and bring Arty with him.”

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” Sloane asked, as the pirate’s face paled and the hand holding the phone shook.

Liza shrugged. “We need to know who holds Arty’s leash. Then he needs to die, too. Two birds, one stone.”

Sloane opened his mouth to argue with her, then thought better of it. He could list all of the reasons killing everyone who did something they didn’t like wasn’t logical, later. First, he thought he’d better call in his back-up.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

*LIZA*

Liza bit her lip until she tasted blood. She could feel herself wanting to slip away from everything, to hide from the violence and the death, but another part of her wanted to rip and tear and destroy. If she destroyed, she controlled her situation. She knew she should feel bad about the pirates she killed, but they would have hurt her if she hadn’t and it had felt good to make them feel pain, to make them pay for the pain they’d caused. Even several feet away from them, she could sense the death on their hands. She could hear the screams of the people they’d hurt and killed and she knew, if she closed her eyes, she’d fall into vision after vision of their most violent actions. She felt like she might go insane, and she wished for her mother, so that she could better understand what she felt and saw.

She knew she should tell Sloane or Curtis. They’d be able to get answers for her, but then she’d have to tell them all she could do. She’d have to tell them that one day she’d touch them and she’d see their deaths. She’d have to tell them that the only thing making her feel better were thoughts of how she would hurt Arty, of how she would destroy his world and everything he’d worked for. She suspected her desires were irrational and that she might get them all killed, but the only thing she knew with absolute certainty was that Arty had to die.

Sloane held the phone to his ear. She heard him calling for back-up and she wanted to tell him they wouldn’t need it. The more people they involved the more limited she’d be when it came time to take her revenge and she needed, she craved hearing Arty scream in pain and seeing his blood splashed on the walls. She wanted him to hurt and she wanted him to know that she hurt him. She didn’t argue with Sloane, though. She’d done enough to ruin his life.

They heard an engine in the distance, but Liza kept her gun trained on the pirate and let Sloane and the redcaps search the horizon. She tasted blood on her lip and smiled as the pirate reached behind him. She smiled when he brought a gun around, and she smiled when she pulled the trigger and he hit the deck. It felt good, it felt so good to watch him fall and let the feeling of violent death that surrounded him fade away.

Sloane turned and swore, his face concerned and upset, and she felt bad, because he didn’t understand and he didn’t like what she had done. “He pulled a gun,” she said.

The tension on his face eased a bit and he nodded, but she could see that he still didn’t understand and she couldn’t explain it to him.

Luckily, a splash and a roar prevented her from having to say anything at all. Liza spun around, as Sloane stepped in front of her, and saw an enormous green head rise from the sea. The redcaps, for the first time since she’d met them, did not look stoked. They scrambled back to stand with Liza and Sloane, as the boat seemed to levitate and rise into the air, water sluicing down its sides, as the creature lifted it with its tail. Once the boat had risen several feet, it stopped and the sea monster stared at them, the nictitating membrane on its eye sliding open and closed once before it blinked and continued to stare.

“Liza, please don’t shoot it,” Sloane said in a low voice.

She lowered her gun and glared at him, but he ignored her. She shook her head and studied the beast instead. She didn’t get any sense of violence or death from the beast and they stayed that way, in a staring contest, until the engine they’d heard before roared closer and a large, solar powered speed boat stopped next to the sea monster. Arty stepped onto the deck and grinned at them. “I see you’ve met my pet, Wilhemet.” Arty peered around them and saw the bodies on the other ship. “I see you’ve dispatched my friends. A shame.”

Liza’s trigger finger itched. She wanted so badly to shoot Arty and, if she’d been alone, she would have done it and damn the consequences. If she timed it well enough, she could fire, leap onto his boat and hurt him as he died. But she couldn’t risk Sloane and the redcaps getting hurt because of her bloodlust.

Another boatful of pirates sailed up next to Arty’s boat and a third appeared on the other side of the sea beast.

“Wilhemet,” Arty said. “Why don’t you put them down so we can all talk? I do believe that’s what they called me here for.”

The beast huffed and slowly lowered the boat back to the sea. He slipped under the water and, when he rose again, a few feet away, he watched them with red eyes and snarls that repeated like the purrs of a happy cat.

Arty studied Liza for a long moment. “Leo told me of your prediction, Liza. I knew you’d come into your full powers, but I had no idea you’d be so strong.”

“Strong enough that you should fear me,” Liza said, but her voice shook, betraying her own fear at facing down the man who tortured her.

“I did a bit of research, after you were taken from me,” Arty said, looking not the least bit afraid. “Did you know your father is a death dealer?”

Liza wanted to know what he meant, but she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of thinking she cared that he knew something about her father she didn’t. She kept her expression blank and glared. She wanted to rip Arty limb from limb, but the more important goal was to get him to admit, while Sloane recorded it with a wire, that he was planning to turn the human world into a fairy realm, ruled by twisted fae like Arty. And she could sense just how twisted he was, the darkness and the death surrounding him thicker on him than it was on the pirates she’d killed. She wished she had the power to make him experience the death and pain he’d caused from the victims’ perspective.

“You don’t need to keep glaring at me,” Arty said. “You don’t think you carry death smut, yourself? How do you know I didn’t kill them all in self-defense or for some greater good?”

“Like turning my world into Fairy?”

“You belong in fairy, princess. You’d be free to be a true warrior there and have all the power and prestige you could handle. You should be by my side, fighting with me.”

“So you can use me? Torture me until I go insane?” Arty winced, but he didn’t back down.

“I needed answers, and I got them. I never tortured you,” he said. “And now that I know about your death dealer heritage, you will be even more useful to me. Rice and SPA won’t allow you to be who you’re meant to be, but I will.”

Liza shuddered. She wanted Arty so bad she could taste it. She wanted him laid out at her feet and hurting because of her. Sloane didn’t move or speak, he was letting her decide how this went down and she couldn’t be more grateful to him. He might be willing to throw away his job for her, but she couldn’t let that happen. “Will you continue trying to make earth into another fairy? Will you use the rocks to make the humans of earth slaves to those with magical abilities?”

Arty laughed. “And what will you do if that is my plan? You think you can best me? You think you can put me in a human prison? You think you can stop me before I find your mother?”

Liza’s gun hand twitched. She wanted to raise it and be done with that conversation. The idea of seeing him dead sang to her like a sweet lullaby, and she saw no reason why she shouldn’t do it. Except that she and Sloane would be on the run for the rest of their lives. Dangerous, rogue fae who SPA would not allow to live.

Arty chuckled. “I see the indecision on your face, Liza. You want to shoot me so, so badly, and I almost hope you will try. Come now, wouldn’t it make you feel better to shoot me?”

Liza’s hand and gun rose without conscious thought and she aimed at Arty, a desire to hurt him coursing through her. He had killed people, he deserved to die. Her hand shook as she fought the impulse. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t just want to shoot him, she wanted to cause him the most possible pain. She wanted to taste his blood. As the thought crossed her mind, her stomach roiled, and she dropped the gun to the deck with a clatter.

“Ah, stronger than your father, then. He would not have wasted such an opportunity, but you are young, yet.”

Sloane put a hand on her back, and she shook him off. She wouldn’t be weak in front of Arty, not ever again. She forced herself to stand and met Sloane’s eyes, a question in her own.

“You do whatever you need to do,” he said. “I’ll stand with you.”

The sincerity in his voice almost broke her heart. Who was she that he could give up his life as he knew it for her? Something whizzed between them and Liza somehow knew it had been a bullet. She whipped her head around in time to see Arty backhand a pirate and send him flying into the water with a splash. The pirate sank beneath the surface without a sound.

“As entertaining as this is,” Arty said. “I am a busy man. What have you decided? Will you kill me or arrest me?”

Liza was tired of talking, it was time to finish it. On top of that, she heard the back-up arriving. While a confession would have been ideal, they’d have to hope what they did have would be enough. Arty’s face blanched as he heard more boats coming. He raised his hand, a gun in it, and pointed it at Sloane.

“You’d quickly forget your moral qualms with him out of the picture,” Arty said.

“My morals are the only thing keeping you alive,” Liza said, her voice raspy with fear and anger, her heart in her throat. “If you kill him, I kill you. I will never work for you again.”

“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” Arty said, and she saw his finger move on the trigger of his gun. Time slowed but Liza discovered she could move quickly. She fired off a shot at Arty and dove for Sloane the moment the bullet left her gun. She knocked Sloane to the ground and felt pain slice through her right bicep as they fell.

Above and behind her, she heard the redcaps hooting and hollering, more guns firing, and metal against metal. She got to her knees, and looked for Arty, but he was gone. She stood and spun around, but saw him nowhere. She did, however, come face to face with Sloane, his face red and his jaw twitching. He grabbed her injured arm, studied her shoulder, and grunted. “What the hell do you think you were—?”

Luckily, the pirates took that moment to board the boat. One of them grabbed Liza by the neck and started pulling her backward. Sloane stepped behind them and, moments later, she was free. She turned around to see the pirate on the ground, his neck broken. She looked at Sloane, surprised he had killed the guy, but Sloane was already trading blows with another pirate and she was distracted by the blinding pain of being pulled backward by her hair.

In a move she never would have guessed she could perform, she dropped to her knees, spun as much as the hold on her hair would allow and swung her right leg out in a low kick that caught her attacker in the ankles and brought her to her knees. The woman released Liza’s hair as she fell and Liza leapt up and kicked her in the face. She’d never seen or heard about women pirates before, and this one looked as greasy and as tough as the men. The female pirate reeked of death just as much as any of the male pirates Liza had faced.

Liza placed the heel of her boot on the woman’s neck, ignoring the pleading look in her eyes. Just before Liza pressed down and started cutting off the woman’s air supply, six SPA boats surrounded them all. Liza knew she couldn’t kill the woman in front of her coworkers.

Liza noticed for the first time, that the redcaps were no longer anywhere to be seen. She concentrated, in case they’d glamoured themselves invisible, and she saw one of the pirate boats, full of redcaps, speeding away under a haze of glamour.

Once SPA arrived, it didn’t take long for them to put the thirty pirates in handcuffs and take them and their boats away. They didn’t put Sloane or Liza in handcuffs, but they did make them ride back to headquarters on a SPA boat, under the watchful eye of three SPA operatives. Sloane held Liza’s hand the whole way, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She should have been upset that the two of them could end up in prison or in a lab in West Virginia, and she was, but what troubled her the most was that she’d been deprived of her opportunity to make Arty hurt and to watch while the life left his eyes. She knew that the way she felt was wrong and she tried to push those thoughts away. By the time they were seated in Reynolds’ office, facing the angry woman, she pretty much had.

Since Liza and Sloane had no tangible evidence of Arty’s involvement in the mermaid deaths, the serial murders, or even the drilling, the pirates ended up getting blamed for everything. Liza was pretty sure that Reynolds didn’t entirely believe Sloane’s story that Liza had been kidnapped by the pirates and forced to shoot him, but she accepted the story as though she did. Liza suspected Reynolds just didn’t want to lose her best operative or the woman who could dream of death.

Somehow, it seemed that SPA had no clue Sloane and Liza had been involved in the attack on Arty’s mansion. It meant Sloane didn’t have to make up more lies, but it also meant that their only, admittedly weak, evidence of Arty’s involvement didn’t exist. The records showing that Arty had purchased the drill no longer existed. Once again, Arty was free.

As they left Reynolds’ office, Liza couldn’t stop the gnawing desire she felt to find Arty and hurt him. Sloane wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she smiled up at him, trying to look happy that neither of them had been arrested. Sloane smiled back, but she could see the worry and doubt in his eyes. “Why don’t you come back to my place?” he asked. “I’ll cook you dinner.”

Liza hesitated for just a moment. She wasn’t sure she could keep pretending if she spent the night with Sloane, but she knew he’d only worry more if she didn’t. “Sounds wonderful,” she said.

The next morning, Sloane and Liza woke up together. She smiled at him, the craving she’d felt for violence had been sated by the love and physical intimacy Sloane gave her, and she felt more like herself again. Sloane’s phone rang, just as he was leaning in to kiss her. He started to ignore it, but Liza put a hand up to stop him. “You should answer it,” she said.

He frowned, but he put his phone to his ear and spoke for a few moments. He hung up quickly, his smile wide. “Arty is dead,” he said. “His body washed up on the beach this morning.”

Rage and a sense of loss barreled through her. Someone else had gotten the pleasure of ending Arty’s life. “How was he killed?” she asked.

“His body is too mutilated to be sure,” he said, “but whatever happened to him, it was pretty bad. It wasn’t your bullet that killed him.”

He meant to comfort her with that bit of information, so she swallowed her disappointment and sighed with what she hoped sounded like relief. “Did he suffer?”

“We won’t be sure until the autopsy report comes back, but it looks like he did.”

He wrapped his arms around her and she let him comfort her, trying to be glad they were together and well. She ignored the desire for blood and violence that clawed at her, revived by the news of Arty’s death.

Liza walked out onto the deck of Sloane’s boat while he took a shower, and found an envelope, with her name on it, taped to the door. A darkness surrounded the note and Liza tore it from the door with trembling hands. Inside, she found a letter, typed in dark letters.

Dear Liza,

Arty was just a pawn. His power is nothing compared to mine and everything he did was at my bidding. He died because he hurt you and abused your ability against my wishes. I promise, if you come to work for me, I will make sure no one ever hurts you again. I will allow you to sate the hunger that I believe has come to life in you, and I will tell you who and what you are. I will teach you to be more powerful than you can even imagine.

I’ll be in touch.

Liza folded the note four times and put it in her back pocket. She’d burn it when she was truly alone. She knew she should tell Sloane about the note and let him know that Arty had a boss, but she didn’t want to have to answer questions about the hunger the anonymous writer somehow knew about. She went back inside to Sloane and tried to be the person she’d been before Arty broke her.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Katharine Sadler lives with her husband in North Carolina. She’s been writing since she was ten and has wanted to be a writer even longer. When she’s not writing or otherwise gainfully occupied, she reads like it’s an addiction, exercises, skis whenever she gets the chance, and adds more books to her Amazon wish list.

Learn more about the author at: http://www.KatharineSadler.com.

OTHER WORKS BY THIS AUTHOR

THE REAPING (Book 1 of The Reapers Series)

ON A WHITE HORSE (1.5 of The Reapers Series)

THE REVOLT (Book 2 of The Reapers Series)

THE RIFT (Book 3 of The Reaper Series)

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

OTHER WORKS BY THIS AUTHOR

OJW Conversion -

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

OTHER WORKS BY THIS AUTHOR