To read the prologue & chapter 1: click here!

Chapter 2:

      “You don’t have to stand at the door, Kita[1],” A sultry, alto voice called from the other side. I paused at the word for sister in Demoki, the Angelic Language, and blinked a couple times. Was that Ronnie or were my ears playing tricks on me?

      I twisted the knob and pushed it open. Sprawled across my bed like a goddess on a fainting couch was my sister, Aeronwen, aka Ronnie. Her nearly silver skin shimmered where the sunlight from the French doors touched it. Her regal, oval face held almost feline features with large eyes, wider than average lips, and high cheekbones. 

      “Judging by the look on your face, you don’t remember going out for drinks last night,” she said, her purring voice stirring things low in my body as it usually did which brought with it memories of sex with her. “After I touched up your tattoo, we got a bit too noisy for the Emporium, so you teleported us here because we needed privacy, and my house is a bit crowded since Matt, Odin, and now Lucifer are staying there.

      “After some mind-blowing sex, thank you for that by the way, we went to the pub around the corner for dinner and drinks, and I got plastered. You insisted that I stay in your bed because it was closer to the bathroom, should I need to vomit,” she explained in detail. As she said it, the night returned in flashes.

      I walked into the room and sat on the bed beside her deathly pale body as I cursed myself. One of the reasons I came here was to hunt Ornias, whom I just sent to the Himalayas because I couldn’t deal with him right now. I should’ve flayed him for nearly killing my niece, and Ronnie’s eldest daughter. I flopped back and groaned a sigh as she combed out the length of her silver hair, that was streaked with orange. I smiled, glad that she’d decided to keep the highlights that one of her poly partners suggested. They looked amazing and brought out her eyes. I shoved that aside and sighed.

      “No, I didn’t remember… Until you said it. Did I tell you why I was coming to New Orleans in a couple weeks?” I asked, praying that I hadn’t mentioned Jack or Nick. A smirk pulled her dark lips up on the left, and she started combing her long, delicate fingers through my curls.

      “You were coming to get your chest piece touched up,” she said, moving her hand to trace the heart shape of Majora’s Mask from the Legend of Zelda Game of the same name. It was the centre of the tattoo over my sternum that was a tribute to the franchise as a whole with Master Sword, Fairies, and a banner that read “what good are weapons without the courage to use them.” She looked up into my eyes and her aura burned with curiosity. “But you didn’t mention any other reason. I figured it had something to do with the murders since that’s why Matt is in town still.” My stomach turned to lead at the thought of murders when I didn’t know where one of my sons was. I looked up into her pumpkin orange eyes and her fingers stopped on the body of the spider on my ribs. “You hadn’t heard about the murders—”

      “No, I haven’t the foggiest. I’m here looking after a friend,” I half-lied. Her nose scrunched as if she smelled the lie, but she didn’t ask. She had her own secrets, and we mutually refused to pry. That was one reason we still had a decent relationship.

      “You might want to check with Lou. I have a feeling your friend got caught up in his investigation,” she said. I sighed and glared at the ceiling.

      “It’s something he would do. He has the same Darwinian lack of self-preservation as his father,” I muttered. She chuckled, and I slid my eyes to hers again as she sat up. “Devil may care runs in his family.”

      “With you as his friend, I’d agree,” she said, assuming he was one of my lovers and not my son. I didn’t correct her, but I worked hard to hide a shudder of disgust. None of my Angelic siblings knew that I had a child, let alone four boys that were all old enough to have families of their own, though only three were still among the living. I shoved the thoughts of my eldest down before the wounds could reopen and turned to her.

      “You’re right about that,” I said, sitting up and sighing. “Are you going to make me see Lou before telling me about the case?”

      “It’s an ongoing investigation…” she began, but trailed off as I raised my eyebrows and relaxed my eyes. “But as I’m not an Agent of the Preternatural and Mythical Creatures Agency, I’m not bound by their rules—”

      “Spit it out, Ron. I need to know what to wear,” I said. I stood and stepped to the bifold closet doors. I pulled them open and looked at the clothing that was made up of mostly leather and lace with a few denim and cotton pieces sprinkled in.

      Unlike my apartments, which were decorated the exact same, my closet was enchanted for lack of a better term. When I opened the closet door at any of my twenty-four apartments or my two houses, it was the same closet, and the others would appear empty. Ronnie sighed and slid to the side of the bed.

      “The MO is similar to Vretil’s near the end of his reign, but nowhere near as dignified. Someone is trying to call attention to themselves in the worst way possible,” Ronnie said as I flipped through the slinky dresses moving toward the tank tops. “They’re sporadic, unplanned, and the only thing that connects them is a calling card.”

      I turned with a pair of leather pants in one hand and a black tank top in the other. On the top were skeletal hands flipping the bird with the words “No Bra Club” between the raised fingers and scooped neckline. She looked at the shirt, then at my chest and shrugged. She didn’t say anything. She simply waited to see if I was paying attention.

      “So, you have a disorganized killer, trying to gain the attention of the Triumvirate of Evil,” I summarized. She summoned her laptop to her lap and started typing.

      I held the outfit to my body and exchanged the robe for the clothes with my powers. When I pulled the hangers away, the robe was on the tank tops hanger. I hung it in the closet then tied the tank top up to show off my toned abs, which had the added benefit of displaying the tribal tattoo around my bellybutton and my piercing. I grabbed a leather jacket from the hooks in the back of the closet and shrugged it on as another thought crossed my mind.

      “Or Someone is killing to create fear and kick off their reign as the third member,” I theorized. She looked up from the computer and swivelled the screen around so I could see the bloodied card that looked like the Major Arcana Tarot card, the Magician. I took a step toward her and looked closer.

      The masculine figure stood with one hand up, the other down. In the upraised hand was a bloody knife. His flowing white robes were splattered with blood, his long reddish-brown hair blew as if by a slight breeze, and his ruddy complexion looked eerily like another Demokæ I knew. Raphael was constantly toeing the line between the Agency and the Underworld. I heard rumours that he crossed said line, but was this his handiwork or merely a coincidence?

      “You have that look in your eye, Neamhréir[2]. What do you see?” Ronnie asked calling me by my Irish name.

      “Either I’m still exhausted or someone used Raphael as the inspiration for that picture,” I said. She flipped the screen around and tilted her head. Her eyes went wide when she realized that I wasn’t kidding. She summoned a phone to her hand, and I added, “You hadn’t thought of that, had you?”

      She held up her index finger, and I rolled my eyes. I walked back through the living room to the kitchenette thinking about last night.

      Why hadn’t I redrawn the smudged ward? I don’t get black out drunk, so what affected me enough that I didn’t think about it? Was it Ornias working his Metakinetic asshattery again? Had he slipped in while we’d been too wrapped up in each other to notice or had he followed us back from the pub?

      “I may have something… Do you know where Raphael is?” Ronnie asked into the phone as I opened the fridge. The only thing in it was a bottle of Jack’s favourite Euphoria.

Shit, why was he crashing here? I grabbed the bottle and opened it with one claw not bothering with the opener under the edge of the counter to the right of the fridge. Ronnie walked out of my room as I tipped the bottle back.

      “She’s here. Want me to put her on?” she asked, and I groaned. I didn’t want to get involved in a case. I didn’t have time. I needed to find Jack before he ended up a victim of Ornias and get to Paris for the birth of my third grandbaby. She held the phone to me, and I groaned louder so that whoever was on the other end would hear me. I took it, saw Lucifer’s number, and set it to my ear.

      “Lucy, it’s so not nice to speak with you. How’s the fam?” I asked, distracting him as I leaned back against the counter. If I kept him talking about other things, he wouldn’t ask and that was usually easy. I knocked the bottle back as he chuckled.

      “About the same. Kalista’s recovering and overworking herself. Anna did very well with the birth and the twin boys are growing and thriving. But this isn’t about them,” he said, and I wasn’t going to let him rope me into this case so easily.

      “How are Garret and Lovey?” I asked. He sighed, and I saw him with my third eye. He set a hand to his forehead, rubbed his temples, and leaned back in an office chair that was nowhere near as nice as his, which made sense given he was here in New Orleans.

      “Garret is doing well, and Lovette is recovering from just having their twins. She’s getting anxious about Leighla and Remiel though,” he said, and I heard the weary tone to his voice. Leighla was in his triumvirate of Light, and she was taken six months ago. I tuned him out to think about what I’d learned about that particular incident and the rest of the abductions.

      Leighla had been snatched just before Vretil came out of hiding. I figured it was because she’d threatened to expose him or so I’d heard through Jael, our niece, and his daughter. Then I heard about Remiel, Lovette’s father disappearing the same day. It raised the number of abducted Angels to six. That changed my hypothesis.

      Their disappearance confirmed that the abductions were all by the same individual, which Leighla discovered just before they were taken. She’d taken voice memos, but no one knew where her phone was, so they still weren’t sure who it was. They’d also been distracted by the information Leighla gave Michael about the resurrected serial killer, aka Vretil. The Director, Lucifer’s heir, and his archnemesis, took care of Vretil quick enough, but no one had a lead on the missing Angels, or they didn’t last I heard. Maybe that was a better way to distract Lucifer…

      “Still no leads on the Abducted Angels?” I half-asked, half-said. His chair snapped to attention as he sat up, and I set the mostly empty bottle on the counter. “I take that as a no, and these murders are yet another distraction.”

      He slammed his fist on the desk, and I hung up. I tossed the phone at Ronnie and teleported to him. Most Angels would have run when Lucifer was like this. I always ended up nearby when it happened, or perhaps it was because I was nearby that he became this volatile.

      I did have an unsettling, aggravating aura about me, or so everyone said. I chalked that up to the soulmate insanity that had been eating me since I ran away from Ornias.

      I found myself in an office, but not Lucifer’s. He wouldn’t want to expend the energy to flit back and forth from Los Angeles to New Orleans. This one was nowhere near as grand as his office back home, either of them, but it wasn’t Ronnie’s home office either.

      “Let me help you find them,” I offered, setting my hands on the desk. He jumped a bit and stared up at my crimson eyes that matched his.

      “No, I can’t do that. I can’t throw another Angel at this,” he said. There was something in his eyes that I recognized. Guilt. He blamed himself for Leighla and Remiel being taken. As much as he’d put on a show of being strong and unshaken, losing Leighla hurt, and being this close, I could see why. Their triumvirate bond was whole again, but this threatened it.

      “Lou, I—” I started to argue, and he shook his head.

      “No, and that’s final. Kalista already has someone else looking into it,” he said, and I raised my eyebrows. “No, she’s not doing it herself, thank the Maker. Though she has been reading over Remiel, Leighla, and Matt’s notes.”

      Again, there was a tone in his voice, and a haunted look in his eyes. Even having Matt, our brother and an Angel of Justice on this case was worrying him and there was something more than just work bothering him. I peeked over the metaphysical wall I kept between us just enough so that I could see his thoughts then dropped back down before I saw too much. It wasn’t just about Leighla’s capture. He felt guilty for not treating her like he should.

      “Did Leighla ever meet your family?” I asked. He stiffened and didn’t meet my eyes. “That’s not your fault. Not all of it at least—”

      “It is my fault. There is nothing you can say and no argument I can give to prove that it’s not,” he said. I walked around the desk and sat to his right, forcing him to turn and look up at me.

      “Let’s say that it is your fault, that you helping and healing your relationship is why she was taken,” I began, and he tilted his head up and to the right. “Even if that is the case, you didn’t know who it was…”

      He looked away from me and my spine stiffened. Oh, Hell no! No! If he knew, he would send his best to go get them back. Wouldn’t he? He had no reason not to.

      “You don’t know, do you?” I asked and again he refused to look at me. “Lucifer, don’t make me use your Angelic name and pry it from your lips.”

      “I have a lead on who, but only because of Matt’s latest work, and he won’t tell me because he’s reporting to Kalista. Besides, every time we get close someone goes missing or winds up dead,” he said, throwing his hands up. I crossed my arms under my chest, since over them was near impossible without spilling them out the top of the tank top, but he didn’t bother looking at the mounds of my breasts that peaked out the neckline. He was more worried than I thought.

      “Every time you get close, something like these murders pop ups to distract you,” I clarified, and he nodded. “Then let me help Matt on this case. Let me find them.”

      “No, I will not risk you,” he said, and I threw my hands up.

      “This is ridiculous. Why am I arguing with you when Kalista is in charge of that case?” I asked, summoning my phone. He snatched it from my hand, and I summoned it back. He stood to take it again, and I teleported to the other side of the desk.

      “Hasn’t anyone told you not to take things that aren’t yours?” I asked and his nostrils flared before he composed himself and I added, “Tell me who you think it is, or I’ll call Kalista.”

      “Kalista doesn’t know yet,” he said, and I scoffed. “She’s had visions of torture, but she doesn’t know who the torturer is. She’s also flying here with some of her kids right now.”

      “Matt can’t be the only one who knows,” I said, and he sighed, shoulders drooping. “Lou, let me help you.”

      “You can help me by working on the murder case while I work on the case with Matt,” he began and I started to argue, but he talked over me, “Too many people know me and my affiliations. They refuse to talk to agents or anyone who will report back to me, but you’re unaffiliated with a long history of not telling me things.”

      He paused and I slipped the phone into the pocket on my bicep. I crossed my arms under my breasts again and waited for the rest.

      “I need someone to go to The Crimson Claw, which is—”

      “A Bar in the Quarter,” I cut him off, and he nodded once still staring distantly. “I know where it is.”

      “I didn’t want to assume,” he said as a smirk lifted the right side of his mouth and he sat, turning to his computer. “I need you to talk to the owner. She refuses to talk to an Agent since the last time one was there her business was trashed…”

      The memory of that almost made me smile, but I hid it behind my usually neutral expression. I was the one who trashed her business while chasing off the last Agent who stopped in a few months back, though I did repair the damage before I left. They hadn’t wanted to go, so I used persuasion of the violent kind. Come to think of it, I hadn’t been back to New Orleans since then. He looked up from his computer, and I tuned back in.

      “She needs someone that she can relate to—”

      “And you picked moi?” I said, setting one hand to my chest. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. If you want a negotiator, call Jethro.”

      “She won’t talk to him, because he’s on the Council of Justice,” he reminded me. That wasn’t the only reason, but I’d lean into it to keep him talking.

      “He was also on the Council of Spirit and the Council of Fire before that. Why choose me?” I asked. I set my hands on the desk again and a folder appeared between them. I flipped it open and looked at the face of the woman in the attached picture. It was a shoulders up shot from her Preternatural ID. It didn’t do her justice.

      She was a tall, leggy blonde with green eyes the colour of summer clovers and slim features that held hidden strength. Her real name was Cassandra, but she went by Sandra, and she was like a daughter to me.

      I fought to keep a smile from my lips as I thought of her. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I looked over what they had on the blonde Animorphis, so I could tell her if she asked, and to make it seem like I hadn’t known her before I looked back at Lucifer.

      “Sandra Dexter… Have you tried sending a big, strong man? I heard she likes those,” I joked, and he rolled his eyes. Oh, someone hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. With growing preter twins in the house it was a miracle he was even this coherent.

      “Sandra is not the type of girl to turn into a puddle over a mountain of muscle,” he dismissed the idea, but there was only one way he knew that. I let my smile slide up on the right side.

      “Which hunk of muscle did you throw at her, hmm?” I asked, and his eyes flicked from his computer screen to me clearly annoyed that it hadn’t worked. “No judgement here. I’ll check her out if I can find the time, but I have personal reasons for being in town.”

      “So, I heard,” he said, turning to face me. He leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach as his eyes went to my breasts and the touched-up tattoo that dipped between them. Sure, now he was interested in them and probably what I had to say. He cleared his throat to ask, but I got straight to the point before he could get distracted.

      “You already know I’m here for the Shki[3], but I’m also looking for a friend, Jack Danaghe. You might know him. Lesser preter, gets into trouble a lot, wrong place at the wrong time, due largely in part to having no sense of self-preservation,” I listed. I stopped when laughter lightened his features, making him look a decade younger.

      “Jackie got in trouble again,” he said, and I sighed.

      “He always does…” I mumbled, removing my glasses, and pinching the bridge of my nose to relieve the small headache that started between my eyes whenever I talked about my problematic child.

      “Did you pull the short straw, or lose a bet? I was expecting Nick or Dex to come sniff him out,” he said. I forced down the mama bear instinct that bristled whenever my kids were mentioned so close together. No one who knew them would peg the tall, bean pole Jack Danaghe and the broad, built Nickolas Ivanov for brothers, but Nick was always there to bail his older brother out of trouble… Just like I did with my siblings.

      “You know that Dex and I have history. He’s busy with other things, and called in a favour,” I lied. Lucifer shrugged and was none the wiser. I’d been lying to him for centuries about a lot of things, including my identity, but he hadn’t noticed. For an Angel of Truth, he sucked at more than just seeing it.

      He thought my Discord appearance was one of Chaos, our sister’s, alter egos. I let him keep said delusion even though I was taller, more volatile, and had a much larger rack, more curves… As she says, ‘I’m Chaos to the nth degree.’ But there was no harm in building her reputation while I faded into the background when I wasn’t needed, and I regularly apologized to her for Lucifer’s badgering.

      “Unfortunately, I can’t help you. Jackie is wanted in connection to a few of the murders, including the last one, which happened behind the Crimson Claw. Sandra and Jack were seen together not long before the murder, and we still need to question him,” he said. I hid an eye roll behind my swathe of long sideswept bangs.

      If Jack was avoiding someone from the agency, Sandra would be the first person he’d run to. The idiot was always endangering those he loved, just like his namesake. He helped Sandra start the Claw…

      Then a thought hit me: With the Agency looking for him, he might’ve crashed at my apartment to keep her and their found family out of it. There was only one way to know for sure. I had to ask Sandra if she had seen him since the last murder.

      “I’ll talk to her,” I said. I stood, taking the file and was moments from teleporting home when another thought passed through my mind. “Lou, Jack isn’t capable of killing like this—”

      “That remains to be seen,” he said turning back to the computer. I stepped forward, and he looked up at me. “Some of his DNA was found at a few of the scenes. We just need to ask him where he was at the time of those murders.”

      I nodded and teleported back to my apartment into the bowl-shaped chair where I’d thrown the duvet earlier, but it wasn’t there. Ronnie was sitting on the sofa, which she’d folded back up and the duvet was folded across the top of it. On the coffee table between us was an open pizza box.

      “How’d it go?” she asked as I grabbed a slice.

      “Lou’s a stubborn ass,” I said, and we chorused, “Per the usual.”

      We ate in silence for a minute before she finished her first slice and grabbed another.

      “Did he have any news about your friend?” she asked, and I nodded curtly.

      “He’s one of the suspects. Damn idiot,” I grumbled, and she lifted one of her silver eyebrows. “There’s someone that might know where he is, but she’s not talking to anyone affiliated with the Agency.”

      “So, Lou asked you to talk to her?” she deduced, and I nodded. “Are you going to?”

      “Don’t have much choice.” I finished my first slice. I grabbed another, and she pulled a bottle of Euphoria from under the table. She handed it to me, and I dipped my head. 

      “Do you know how to contact them?” I looked at my watch.

      “I’ll wait until later. The Crimson Claw opens at Three,” I said, and she choked on her drink. I lifted my right eyebrow, raising the hoop in it and smirked. “Breathe air, drink Euphoria.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to remember that next time,” she coughed as I ate. When she’d cleared her airways, she locked eyes with me. “Your friends with Jack Danaghe? You know who his father was…”

      I rolled my eyes. Of course, I knew. Part of me wanted to snark back and ask if she knew who his mother was. She obviously didn’t, or she was doing her best to make me come out and say it. I wouldn’t. I prepared a bunch of responses in advance for times such as this.

      “Yes, I know who his father was. We’re not that kind of friends. Damn, Ronnie that’s just wrong on so many levels. I would never sleep with a guy then bed his son,” I said, taking another drink. She scoffed and I slowly lowered the bottle, swallowing. “Name one-”

      “Lucifer and Beelzebub,” she said, and I scoffed.

      “That doesn’t count! Zeb is sex on legs, and I was drunk on his pheromones and Chaos’s brew when that happened,” I defended myself, knowing that wasn’t the full truth.  

      “She calls it Chaos Theory now,” Ronnie changed the subject, and I let it drop. We had all morning to talk. I wasn’t going to focus on Jack or Beelzebub, even if my mind strayed to the tall, curly haired King of the Sex Demons, and the true reason I slept with him.

He’d reminded me of a young Ornias, but unlike that Shki, he was kind and didn’t want to own or control me. He only wanted to pleasure me, to taste me, and to enjoy my company. I let the memories go and distracted Ronnie by asking after Badb.

[1] Demoki: Sister

[2] Irish: Discord between entities.

[3] Demoki: Snake or Deceiver, used like son of a Bitch.

Chapter 3

      Ronnie and I spent the morning and the early afternoon talking about her family, the cases, and everything that led up to her home being the headquarters for all this madness. Two-thirty rolled around, and she excused herself to get to her first appointment at her Tattoo Emporium. We parted ways on the street out front, and I walked toward the bar.

      That word didn’t do the Crimson Claw justice. It was an underground preter hangout that happened to have a bar. If you knew the right person, there were also other not so legal activities you could participate in, for a price.

      As I rounded the corner, someone whistled. I looked up and grinned. Sandra was leaning over the railing of a fire escape as she smoked a cigar. Her blonde hair blew in a slight breeze and her green eyes sparkled as they roved me.

      “Look what the Polar Bear dragged out of the Tundra,” she called, and I teleported to her. She hugged me and pecked my cheek, pausing with her lips near my ear. “If you’re looking for Jackie, I don’t know where he is.”

      “Charming as ever, Sandra,” I said, pecking her cheek then whispering. “Nicky and Trix don’t know where he is either. They haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

      Sandra pulled back with slightly wide eyes then looked around before taking my hand and stepping through the open window behind her. Inside, it was like any other apartment on Bourbon Street: small, crowded, and white plaster but that was only a façade. She opened the door into a long, elaborate hall, and waited until the door was closed to say more.

      “He’s been here. I don’t know what he’s been up to, but he usually comes by once a night. Until two weeks ago when one of the girls was killed in the back alley. There’s been too many of Lou’s men around since then. He knew they’d look for him here and would ask me about him,” she said, leading me down the too quiet hall. “I’m worried about him, Ma.”

      “I’m here. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll find him and pull his ass out of whatever trouble he’s gotten into this time,” I said. She turned to me at a stairwell that led to the bar, and I set a hand on her shoulder. “I promise, I’ll bring him back alive.”

      “I know you will. I’m just scared. He’s been calling me at night to check in, but last night he didn’t. I wanted to call you or Nick, but with Vixen so close to delivering, I didn’t want to bother them, and I know you’re her doula this time,” she said. I squeezed her shoulder and offered a reassuring smile.

      “I know. You’re like me. You like to handle things yourself and don’t want to be a burden, but you’re not a burden to me, Sandra,” I said. She nodded and set her hand over mine on her shoulder.

      “If he didn’t show or call tonight, I was going to call you. Honest,” she said with tears in her voice. I pulled her in and gave her the long, tight hug she needed. Her body relaxed little by little, but I hung on until all the negative energy buzzing around her aura dissipated. When I loosened my hold and stepped back, she took a deep breath. “Thank you, Ma. You always give the best hugs.”

      “You’re welcome, Hun, but don’t ever think twice about calling me, even if you just need a hug from this mama bear. I can pop in and give you one anytime,” I said, taking her hand. I gave it a squeeze and her eyes watered. “You’ve been part of my den since the day Jack introduced us, and I don’t say that lightly.”

      She threw her arms around me again and, in that moment, I felt the joy and the need she had for a mother right now. Again, I wondered where her family was. Jack hadn’t told me much about her past, but the past didn’t matter much to Jack. The present and the future were his focus. I always wondered about her family, but I never asked, and she’d never brought them up. She squeezed me, and I rubbed her back.

      “Thank you… thank you so much,” she whispered into my hair.

      “You’re welcome, Arkæus[1]. Let’s go downstairs away from listening ears,” I said, feeling some of the girls staring at us, wondering why their fearless leader was being so emotional. She wiped her tears, using me as a shield from their worried eyes, and quickly led me downstairs. She unlocked the deadbolt on the door at the end of the bar. She pushed it open and ushered me in.

      It was dark in the room that was three times longer than it was wide. No lights were on, not even the neon signs which depicted women in various pinup poses.

      “You smell like Queenie. What did she tell you?” she asked, referring to Ronnie by a nickname she’d given her. She had one of the most powerful senses of smell I’d ever come across, except for Max… Again, he came to mind. She flipped a light switch under the edge of the bar and the neon lights brightened the room as I tried to get him from my mind.

      Four booths lined the wall opposite the bar on the other side of the three wooden pillars holding up a beam that ran down the centre of the room. In between the pillars were five tables with four chairs turned upside down on each. At the far end was a tunnel with thirteen steps up to the street. Upside down on top of the bar were thirteen stools, but she ignored it all and turned to me, waiting for an answer.

      “She said that there’s a serial killer on the loose. Lou said that Jack is a suspect, and they want to question him. I’ve also seen one of the cards,” I filled her in on the necessary details, leaving Ornias out of it. Her eyes widened at the last, and I pulled the stools down, one eyebrow rising in question. She held my gaze for a moment before she shook her head and grabbed a towel to buss the bar that didn’t need it.

      “The cards are just a distraction,” she said, her left eye twitching. She grabbed a square bottle from the shelf and set it in front of me. “It’s Chaos Theory. Jack bought a case off Ronnie last month.”

      “What did Jackie find out?” I asked, grabbing the bottle as I moved to take the chairs down. She prepped drinks for her crew, and I watched her, waiting for the rest.

      “They’re keeping the Agency from pursuing the real threat. The Illusionist is the third member of the triumvirate now, and he hands out those cards. The Underworld rumour mill says that he gives them to those he deems worthy, and when they’re out of favour, the cards change…” she said, setting the towel over her shoulder. When I finished with the chairs, I swished the amber liquid around the bottle before I twisted the top off. I took a swig and sat on one of the stools.

      “Jackie got his hands on one, didn’t he?” I asked. Her back tensed, but she gave a small nod. “That boy has no sense. He needs to learn to leave well enough alone.”

      “He’s too much like you, Ma,” she said, and I thought about that for a minute. Damn, if she wasn’t right. When I found out something like that, I always meddled. It was part of my nature. I couldn’t leave anything alone. Why couldn’t my boys inherit any of my better traits?

      “What did he want with one?” I asked. She stopped polishing the bar but didn’t look at me.

      “He was a mover for some of the local Underworld boys,” she said, voice low, and I set down the bottle ready to rant, but she hurried to clarify, “Not like that. They wanted things moved, and he found a way. He didn’t handle any merchandise, just told them how. It was strictly intel, nothin’ hands on. First, it was only once every couple years, if someone needed it—”

      “And now it’s a regular gig,” I said more than asked. She nodded, and I cursed. “Jackie, you son of an egotistical, arrogant, money hungry bastard.”

      She didn’t argue or defend him. She agreed with me and knew more about his hairbrained schemes than I ever wanted to. His schemes were never for the same reasons as his namesake Calico Jack’s. My Jack only took odd jobs for the Underworld to make a better life for his found family here at the Crimson Claw. They were his crew, and damned if I didn’t understand his reasoning.

      “Who’s he trying to rescue this time?” I asked, knowing that it was always about someone else. He lived to rescue people. Addicts, those in financial hardships, and those who’d been taken by the Underworld. If I knew who it was, I could get them out and he’d come too. She looked down, and I tilted my head. “Arkæus?”

      “I’m pregnant,” she confessed, setting both hands on the bar just out of arm’s reach. My eyes went wide, but I quickly hid both my excitement and fear behind my neutral mask. They’d been together since the turn of the early twentieth century. After so long with no children, I never thought they’d slip up. She slowly looked up at me, and I offered an unassuming smirk.

      “Should I say congratulations or let you vent about the possible complication of having a child when you’re in the business of rescuing people?” I asked, phrasing it as delicately as I could. She sighed, her shoulders sagged, and she fingered the compass locket she wore. She’d worn it every day since I gave it to her a hundred years ago.

      The locket was given to me by Calico Jack. I passed it on to her when I realized what she meant to my Jackie. To my knowledge, they’d never officially married, but I knew they weren’t likely to split after so long. They didn’t need a piece of paper to make it binding. She tucked one of her long blonde curls behind her slightly pointed ears and sighed.

      “At first, I was terrified. It’s taken a couple months, but I’m happier now… or I was,” she said, popping the locket open. The waterline of her green eyes glittered in the neon lights as she looked at the picture inside, and I took her hand. “Then Jack had to go and try for a nest egg.”

      I squeezed her hand as the first of the tears fell. She looked from the locket to me.

      “I can’t imagine how you must have felt when you found out about Jackie,” she said, putting a hand on her stomach over the baby bump that was starting to make an appearance. “Did his father even know?”

      “Not until the night we were boarded,” I said as tears burned my eyes at the memory. The smell of gunpowder and rum filled my nostrils as I remembered telling John Rackham about our son. “I told him after we captured that ship. He was so happy… Damn him, he was elated. He talked about retiring to Africa before Barnet could catch us.”

      My voice broke as thoughts of Barnet, one of Ornias aliases. One he’d made specifically to hunt me. He was the reason John wasn’t a better pirate. She squeezed my hand, and I shoved the memories down with the rest. I squeezed her hand back and brushed away a single tear before it could slide down my cheek.

      “I won’t let him do what his father did,” I said, cursing John again for giving himself up like that. She blinked at me, and I sighed. “The stories say that when Barnet found us, John was too drunk to fight. He was drunk, but he was never too drunk to fight and honestly, he fought better when he was drunk off his ass. He refused to fight. Mary and I were the only ones who fought because the rest of the crew listened to him, the idiots. We might have won if he hadn’t stopped me from using my abilities.”

      Dark mist swirled around my free hand as my blood boiled and my chest glowed under my tank top. I clenched my fist and both my fire, and the darkness vanished.

      “I would have killed them, but he had to go all noble and get little Jackie and I out by sacrificing himself. The bastard didn’t know that Barnet wasn’t going to spare us,” I said, taking a long drink. She scoffed and shook her head as I dropped the bottle again.

      “A big heart, no sense of self-preservation, and no mind for strategy. Like father, like son.” Sandra rolled her eyes. I nodded and lifted my bottle to her.

      “I’ll drink to that.”

⁂

      Ten minutes later, I unlocked the doors and set a wall of power over the entrance. It was a simple ward that would tell me who entered and what brand of preter they were. I sat in the farthest booth from the stairwell and watched it in case Lucifer sent someone else, or Ornias came looking for me. He knew my haunts from the last time he tracked me. If he wanted more than a booty call, he’d come here, and I’d kill him.

      I sat facing the door with one leg on the table, sipping at the bottle of Chaos Theory. I watched everyone come and go, judging their aura, and looking into their soul. Prosokinesis was one of my unique gifts. I could see into someone’s innermost being without looking in their eyes or expending much energy. It was one of my many abilities tied to both my aspects of Life and Death.

      It made tracking targets easier, but it made relationships harder. That was the sole reason I erected metaphysical walls around those I loved. Keeping the wall between Ornias and I was why I hadn’t seen his corruption coming. Removing one such wall was what ruined my relationship with Max.

      In a moment of weakness, when Max stopped talking to me, I opened a door in that wall and was hit with cold, hard truth. While I was away on a mission, he’d gotten bitter and fallen for someone else.

      I don’t know what I expected after being unreachable for six months even though we’d been apart for longer than that before. He’d been mad at me for going on said mission, and for remaining silent like I told him I would. So, he found a bartender and poured his heart out to her.

      He fell for her, and she for him. He’d slept with her the night before I returned. I should’ve stayed in Paris and called him first. Walking in on them at her bar was the worst pain I’d ever endured. Even after their relationship had ended, or how we’d nearly made up twenty years ago, that hurt still stung because it reminded me of walking in on Ornias and the Scubaid.

      I tipped the bottle back and drank the last mouthful, trying to wash away the memories. I looked into the empty bottle and sighed. I needed another drink if I wanted to look casual. I walked to the bar and a familiar power touched the ward. I stumbled as I reached the bar and shook my head.

      No, my mind was playing tricks on me. Max couldn’t be here. He hadn’t left the west coast in twenty years. It was just residual energy from the memory. There was no reason for him to be here, especially not now. The door opened, and I paid no attention to the newcomer as Sandra drifted over to take my order.

      “What can I get you, Red?” she asked. I set the empty bottle on the bar and opened my mouth to ask for my usual mix, but a looming, mountainous shadow entered my peripheral vision. I turned and instantly salivated. My mind was continuing its games, it couldn’t be him, but what if…

      “Am I seeing things, or is there a mountain of a preter prowling by the tunnel?” I asked, pointing to him. The tall, blonde hound whose biceps were three times the size of mine stood at the bottom of the stairs. If he were any taller, he’d have hit his head on the seven and a half foot ceiling. She looked at him and nodded as her eyes roved him.

      “If he’s your type, you should bed him. You might get more information from him than from the rest of the riffraff,” she said. Half of me wanted to tell her that I had bedded him many times, the other half didn’t want her to know about the failed relationship. She took my silence for hesitant trepidation and decided to add a bit more to sweeten the pot.

      “He’s a member of Lou’s newest squad…” ‘He’s the one who’s been prowling for Jack,’ she telepathically added. I was surprised that Max hadn’t found him yet or maybe he only told Lucifer he hadn’t out of respect for me. After all, he was there the day Jack was born and had been watching out for him, when he could. Though, I don’t know if he continued to do so while he was mad at me. He was also the best tracker I knew. He could sniff out a trail that was months old, so why hadn’t he found Jack?

      I looked from her to him as his cybernetic eyes scanned the bar. Those were new, and they hadn’t been there in my dream this morning. Had Lucifer conned him into testing out the cybernetic implants he’d been working on when I refused, or was he further injured on a mission for the dumbass?

      “I just might,” I tapped the bottle with one knuckle and pushed off the bar. “Fill her up with my mix, and I’ll take care of him.”

      My eyes roved the almost seven-foot-tall mountain of muscle as I sauntered toward him. When I met his eyes, they turned from cybernetic green to chartreuse, reminding me of my dream again.

      My dreams always warned me of things like this. Ornias simply took over when it moved to sex and passion, since he was an Angel of Pleasure… or he had been. My powers were warning me that Max was in town. My subconscious was trying to tell me that I still craved him. I hadn’t listened. I was too preoccupied with the monster in my kitchen to entertain that possibility.

      I tuned out my internal monologue that berated me for missing it as I stood a foot in front of him. A seductive smirk turned my lips as I looked up at him and his smirk mirrored it, though it was skewed because of the scars on either side of his mouth. Even after nearly three hundred years, they were still there.

      “Have we met before?” Max asked, quoting Thomas O’Malley from the Disney movie the Aristocats. The deep bass of his voice rumbled through me and sent a shiver down my spine.

      In that moment, I decided to let my body have what it wanted. I set my hands on the shoulders of his leather jacket, grabbed the straps, and jumped into his arms. He caught me just like old times, and I stared down at his eyes from inches away.

      “If we haven’t, let’s skip the pleasantries and head straight to the bedroom,” I whispered, breath hot against his lips as his hands cupped and groped my ass. “Kiss me.”

      “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he growled low and captured my lips with his. I lost myself to the familiar feel of his lips on mine, of his tongue as it licked my lips then slid past my fangs into my mouth, and the way his muscular body felt in the vice grip of my legs.

      A few minutes later, the bar erupted with cheers and whistles reminding me that we weren’t alone. I pulled back with a gasp, and he walked to the bar, carrying me as if I weighed nothing.

      “If you want a room, they’re through the door,” Sandra told him. He looked from her to me, and I nodded, not letting the warning flags in my brain get in the way of my need for him. He kept his hold on my ass until he got to the end of the bar. He stopped only to grab the bottle from Sandra and duck under the doorframe into the stairwell.

[1] Demoki: Bear Cub

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