Courting Darkness (2 page)

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not have any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

COURTING DARKNESS

 

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Jove mass-market edition / November 2011

Copyright © 2011 by Yasmine Galenorn.

 

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ISBN : 978-1-101-54550-8

 

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Dedicated to
all the musicians who inspire me . . .
Music feeds my soul.

Thank you to my beloved Samwise—my biggest, strongest, and cutest fan.

And my gratitude to my agent, Meredith Bernstein, and to my editor, Kate Seaver—thank you both for helping me stretch my wings and fly. A salute to Tony Mauro, cover artist extraordinaire. To my furry little “Galenorn Gurlz,” LOLcats in their own right. Most reverent devotion to Ukko, Rauni, Mielikki, and Tapio, my spiritual guardians.

And the biggest thank-you of all—to my readers, both old and new. Your support helps keep the series going. You can find me on the Internet at Galenorn En/Visions:
www.galenorn.com
. For links to social networking sites where you can find me, see my website. I’m on Twitter and Facebook.

If you write to me snail mail (see my website for the address or write via my publisher), please enclose a self-addressed stamped envelope with your letter if you would like a reply. Promo goodies are available—see my site for info.

 

The Painted Panther
Yasmine Galenorn

Revenge does not long remain unavenged.

—GERMAN PROVERB

The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.

—JAMES A. BALDWIN

There it was—waiting for us. Home, with smoke drifting from the chimney and an array of multicolored sparkling lights surrounding the porch. From the driveway, the three-story Victorian shimmered like a beacon, both on the physical and on the astral. Flares of energy shot up like sunspots. I leaned back in the car, smiling.
Home.
Our haven against the demons.

A dragon built from snow guarded the lawn and driveway, rising stark and white out of the banks piled high around the yard. My herb garden hid under the creature, nestled under mulch until spring. Winter had claimed the land, full force, and we were getting hit hard. La Niña held sway, and we were all her toys. At least it wasn’t Loki this time. The Norse giant had brought unnatural amounts of ice and snow with him a year ago, until we’d dispatched his servant, a vampire named Dredge.

But as cold as it was, this was nothing compared to the Northlands, from where I’d just returned. There, in the high reaches near the top of the world, the winds had raged starkly through the winter woodland, shaking the timbers and sending avalanches down the mountainsides.

Up in the Northlands, life was harsh and often short, and fire became a lifeline. The Northmen were as stoic as they sounded, and they partied hearty—there might not be another day to live, facing the dangers they faced.

As Smoky, Iris, Rozurial, and I had struggled through the woods, ranging higher and higher toward the lair of Howl, the Elemental Wolf Lord of the snow, more than once I thought sure we’d end up as Popsicles, frozen to the rocks.

But the trip had been worth it. Iris had come to terms with her past and forged a future for herself. She stood clear and free, able to marry the man she loved. But she’d been through hell, and now she, like me, faced a path that promised to swallow her up, to force her into a position she wasn’t sure she was ready to shoulder. And to mark the changes, she was now sporting spiffy—well, beautiful—indigo tattoos that spiraled their way across her forehead, down her cheeks, and across her back. Her goddess had marked her, and marked her in the most ornate manner. The gods seemed to like to brand us with divine ink.

The car slowed to a stop and Delilah turned off the engine. The weariness of the past few months welled up in my throat as I pushed open the door. So much had happened, and yet so much still lay before us. We were barely a week from midwinter, and I was facing initiation into Aeval’s Court, where I would willingly hand myself over to the Dark Queen to learn her magic and the ways of a priestess.

As I let out a long breath and climbed out of the Jeep, a crisp wind swept through the night and I pulled the elfin robe tighter around me. I was wearing the cloak of the Black Beast beneath that, but even with both, they couldn’t fend off the chill that had lodged itself in my bones and I wondered if I’d ever manage to shake it off and feel the warmth again.

“You okay?” Delilah wrapped her arm around my shoulders. She’d picked us up at Grandmother Coyote’s portal and now all I wanted was a hot bath, a soft bed, and a lot of sleep. As Smoky hopped out of her Jeep, then helped Iris to the ground, Roz slowly hoisted himself out the other side.

“You’re a good sister,” I said, leaning against her arm. “I’m just tired. The journey was harder than I thought it would be. It was cold—so cold. And there were ice spiders—”

“Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose. “How’d it go? Did Iris . . .”

I just shook my head. “It’s her place to tell you about it, but, yes. She’s still with us, and Vikkommin is dead for good. She survived and broke the curse. But the Northlands are terrifying. I’d hate to be trapped there. It’s not a vacation home in the tropics, that’s for sure. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to face the raw elements without a lot of help. All I know is that I don’t want to visit again for a long, long time.”

We headed toward the house just as Menolly came racing out, the beads in her braids clicking in the chill night. She was carrying my purse.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting at the door for you. I just got a call from Derrick. We’ve got problems. Turn right around and head for the cars. Sorry to do this to you, Camille, but you need to be there.” She motioned toward my Lexus. “Hurry up.”

“I don’t want to hurry
anywhere
. What the hell is going on?” My heart sank. I was tired. I didn’t want to fight goblins or ghosts.

“Demon in the bar, demanding to talk to you. He’s already mowed down an elf and Derrick’s got him in a standoff. Iris, you, Roz, and Vanzir stay with Morio and Maggie. Shade and Trillian are on their way—there they are!”

Shade, Delilah’s new love, and Trillian—my alpha husband—rushed out of the house and clambered down the steps. Shade was part dragon, part Stradolan—a shadow walker. Trillian was Svartan: one of the dark and Charming Fae. They both wore jeans and heavy jackets, and Trillian was carrying a serrated-edged sword with which he’d recently taken up training.

“Demon? Asking for
me
? How delightful.
Not.
” I didn’t bother asking if they knew why he wanted me. I’d find out soon enough, and probably—knowing my luck—I’d find out the hard way.

Menolly whipped around, barking out orders. “Delilah—you and Shade take your Jeep.” She tossed me my purse and keys. “Camille, here you go. You drive Smoky and Trillian. I’ll go in alone.”

And once again, we moved to our respective cars, off and running. There was no more downtime, anymore. Everything had taken on an immediacy. With that thought, I put the Lexus in gear and—as Smoky and Trillian jumped in—hit the gas and plowed out of the driveway.

 

Holiday shoppers abounded and I groaned, looking for a parking space as people rushed by with bags and boxes, shiny paper and bows glimmering under the streetlamps. The Wayfarer Bar & Grill wasn’t exactly located in an area that promised shopping Nirvana, but there were plenty of small boutiques ready to cater to the odd and unusual. Like Hot ’n Bothered, the sex shop that had gone in next door. On one hand, it had proved to be a bonanza of new clients for Menolly. On the other, a lot of seedy guys came in, trolling for “dates.”

We pulled into a parking place that miraculously opened up in front of the Wayfarer. With a quick nod to the parking goddess, I forced myself out of the driver’s seat. Holiday season? Open parking spot on one of Seattle’s city streets? Insanely hard to find at best. But I seemed to have a knack for locating them, and I embraced my luck. Hell, considering the rest of my track record when it came to serendipity, I considered the smallest good fortune cause for celebration.

As Trillian opened the door for me, I paused to give him a long kiss. “I missed you,” I whispered, getting some tongue action in while I could. He felt warm in my arms, and smelled of apples and cinnamon. “I missed you a lot.”

“Tonight, we’ll see about wiping away those longings.” He brushed my hair back from my face. “I never spend an hour without thinking about you.”

Smoky grunted. “There’s time enough for that later. Come. We have a situation to take care of. And Trillian, I assure you, I took pains to make sure our wife didn’t miss you
or
the fox too terribly.” He arched his eyebrows in a knowing way, and two tendrils of his hair rose to wrap themselves around my shoulders, tickling me as Trillian glowered.

I bit back a retort. My three husbands were constantly zinging each other, each one striving for the top place in my heart, but I knew that beneath all the bluster and insults, they’d developed a healthy respect for one another. None of them would ever admit it, but I suspected they even liked each other—at least a little. On more than one occasion I’d caught Smoky and Trillian playing chess, or Morio helping Smoky carry in firewood without being asked.

From the outside, the bar looked normal, but I could hear the commotion from the inside. We trailed behind Menolly as she slammed her way through the doors. She owned the Wayfarer Bar & Grill, and it was a hangout for Supes from all backgrounds, as well as the first stop on the journey for a number of Otherworld visitors. And now, the Wayfarer also sported seven rooms, a makeshift bed and breakfast.

It had proved extremely popular and was full up almost every night. Menolly had hired a maid just to keep up with the cleaning, and a second cook for the grill.

As we hit the polished wood floors, I skidded to a halt, catching my breath. The bar patrons were crowded against the back wall, huddled together, looking terrified. Some were trying to edge toward a side exit, but for the most part, they clung together in a little clump, afraid to move. I turned to see what was holding them hostage.

At the front of the bar, a demon watched them, his head bobbing back and forth like a cobra in front of a snake charmer. There was no passing for any generic Supe with this creature. He looked like the full-fledged demon of nightmares—with smoky skin, and coiled horns rising high over his head. His skin, leathery and taut, shimmered across muscle hard enough to beat a sledgehammer against. He towered seven feet high on cloven hooves, and his hands bore long, razor-sharp nails.

And he was standing over one very dead body.

“Sure enough, that’s a demon all right . . . I think.” For some reason, he didn’t seem to have quite the same energy as most of the demons I’d met, but they weren’t all alike, I reminded myself. And besides . . . if it looks like a demon, and it fights like a demon . . . then it’s probably not a duck.

Derrick, the werebadger bartender, had wedged himself between the patrons and the demon, a sawed-off shotgun aimed at the creature. I bit my tongue. That gun had a better chance of tickling the hell spawn than it did of hurting him.

Menolly gazed at the body on the floor and let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’s one dead elf, all right.”

I nodded. “And one freaky-assed demon.”