“You,” I said, at last, fixing him with my best glare.

  “Me,” he agreed, regarding my furious stare with the amusement of an adult watching a toddler throwing a ridiculous tantrum. Something which only pissed me off more.

  “I’m guessing your name isn’t really Simon, huh?”

  His smile broadened, revealing a set of sharp teeth. It was curiously sharklike, combined with the flat black of his eyes. His features had shifted subtly, becoming more angular and predatory.

  “It was the closest human translation I could come up with to my true name. Your mortal tongue can’t wrap around the syllables of my real name.”

  I was willing to tell him that I was ready to wrap his foot around my ass, but held my tongue. Indie was frightened of this thing, which meant I should have been gibbering in abject horror. If the witch in me was intimidated, things were serious.

  “Where am I?” I demanded.

  “My manor. For now.”

  “But where is that, exactly?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Panic clenched in my gut. He was lying. He could tell me where we were, but he wouldn’t. He was enjoying my fear too much to give me any kind of information that could be useful to me. I didn’t even know why I’d asked.

  As far as I could tell, we were in a large manor house somewhere, but I didn’t know if it was on Earth or overlooking Hell, just like Indie had said. At the moment, though, I didn’t have any reasons to doubt her.

  “You look nothing like a witch from the images on your store website,” Simon continued, as if I wasn’t doing my best to bore a hole between his eyes. “You were blonde.”

  “So what?”

  “So, the bleach job was good.” The way he said it and the look he gave me were suspicious. “I know bleach rarely works in a witch’s hair. Too much magic asserting itself. That has to be a pain in the ass.”

  I said nothing. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure how to reply. There was still a lot I didn’t know about the supernatural world. If he said that a witch’s hair resisted bleach, I’d have to take his word for it. Though it seemed frankly ridiculous to me that even their hair follicles contained enough magic to defeat industrial-strength bleach.

  “It’s true,” Indie piped up.

  “How long have you been following me?” I asked, wanting to get as much out of him as I could.

  “Since you drew me in when you opened the book.”

  “Damn,” Indie said.

  “It was then that I couldn’t believe my luck as I’m something of a collector,” the demon who called itself Simon continued.

  “A collector?”

  He nodded. “Finding magical relics is a lot like antiquing. Sometimes you find quality stuff, but mostly it’s junk the owner marked up to make people believe it’s special. Now that book—well, that was worth something. But I’m a lot more interested in you.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged like the answer was obvious. “A witch all alone. It’s a dangerous thing, don’t you agree?”

  “Why?” I repeated, figuring he might say too much if I allowed him, or hoping for as much.

  He shrugged again. “It’s so much harder to pick you off when you’re clustered in your damn covens.”

  “What do you want from me?” I asked, happy when my voice didn’t shake.

  I didn’t think it was possible for his smile to get any creepier, but he managed. His mouth split wider than any human’s should, revealing even more teeth. All the better to eat you with, Lydia. I swallowed back the hysterical giggle that bubbled up in my throat. This was so not funny.

  “Selling you, of course.”

  Indie had assumed that all along, but it was still depressing to realize I’d gone from a cross between Supernatural and Taken to a cross between Supernatural and American Pickers instead.

  “You’re sick.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m savvy. The spells in that book of yours are ingenious and at least one of them requires the blood of the witch who created it, or one of her descendants. That’s you.”

  Actually, it was Indie, but for all intents and purposes, we were one and the same. And it wasn’t like I was going to correct him. What he didn’t know about Indie possessing me was good for me.

  “So, you’re selling me and the book to the highest bidder, then? That’s your plan?”

  “Precisely. And you’re worth a fortune, my dear. With the spells in that book and your blood, you will make someone a very powerful creature indeed.”

  “Lucky me.”

  He cocked his head to the side and continued grinning. “Get used to the idea of being property, little witch. Because you aren’t getting out of here.”

  My heart was pounding. “Because you magic-proofed this room.”

  “You noticed. Good on you. It usually takes the others a day or two to puzzle it out.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice cracking. I didn’t want to beg this monster for anything, but the thought of being owned by something even worse than him was unbearable. “Please—I’m sure we could... come to some kind of understanding. I could pay you more than whatever you’re currently being paid.”

  He chuckled at that. “Lydia, Lydia, Lydia. You should know better than to ask for things I have no interest in giving you.”

  “Then why are you even here, telling me all this?”

  “Just checking to see I didn’t overdose you. As I said, you took longer to wake up than I expected. It wouldn’t do to have you dying on me—then I’d have to bother with a healer and blah blah blah. The point is: I’m glad you’re awake. It makes my job easier.”

  Then he shut the door behind him as he left. There was a heavy clunk as a lock slid into place. And I was once again alone in the near dark, trapped, mulling over the fate that awaited me in just a few days’ time. The prospect was so overwhelming that I wanted to lay down, sleep, and never wake up. And another part of me wanted to scream, to cry, to pound on the door and beg to be let out. The room felt suffocating after the brief glimpse I’d had of freedom.

  “Don’t you dare give him the satisfaction,” Indie growled. “We don’t beg, we don’t cower, and we don’t cry. We get even.”

  “But how do we do that?” I thought back desperately.

  To that, there was no answer.

  ***

  Angelo

  I sent a silent thank you to the dark ones when I found the house empty.

  Fifi was probably doing administrative duties in the office or showing a house at this time of day, which made things infinitely easier. My sister was always nosing into my business, poring over even the most insignificant of details, looking for something to criticize. I used to think she micromanaged as a coping mechanism for not getting laid, but she was still on my ass most days, finding new and creative ways to get under my skin and she was seeing plenty of action in the bedroom. This was just her personality. I was pretty sure she was trying to reform me into monogamous husband material.

  I scoffed. A monogamous sex demon. What an oxymoron. Heavy on the moron. As much as I loved Fifi in my own way, she was simply insane. And her values certainly weren’t my own.

  Chex alighted on the kitchen table while I flipped through my address book. Fifi would have a fit about the fur and claw marks he left, but I couldn’t care less. It wasn’t my furniture, after all. And anything I could do to get a little of my own back was satisfying as hell.

  My mother’s phone went straight to voicemail, which didn’t surprise me in the least. She was a succubus in the truest sense. My parents were only married for political power, uniting two houses. They’d only remained monogamous when they decided to have children, just so my father could be sure of the paternity of Fifi and myself for inheritance purposes. Then they went back to their whoremongering ways, as was proper to our species.

  At the moment, Mother was probably giving a senator the ride of his life, wrapping him around her little finger so she could squeeze political favors from him later. Father didn’t have such lofty ambitions. He was cutting a swath through hopeful and established supermodels in Hollywood, only referring the ones he genuinely liked to industry giants who could make something of them. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how Fifi had managed to become the sort of person she was with parents like ours. Even I was falling short of expectations by family standards, and I was acting like a real incubus.

  It was still frustrating not to reach Mother. She was on top of all the gossip, and if there was a chance of finding Lydia in any of the infernal realms, Mother would be the one to point me in the right direction. So, I had to fall back on a few of my more... unsavory connections instead, hence why I was glad Fifi was gone. If she knew I had contact with some of the people I did, she’d burn my entire address book, assuming the worst. Even I didn’t like some of the people I was forced to associate with.

  I gritted my teeth when a few more of my contacts either went to voicemail or failed to provide anything useful. Sometimes demons closer to Earth spent too much time on the surface to hear anything from home. I couldn’t blame them. Humans were simply delicious and other supernaturals could be even more so. I’d been trying for a maenad for a few weeks now, only to be rebuffed time and time again. It was honestly a first for me. Sex with one of Dionysus’ retinue was sure to be one of the best feedings I’d ever had, but so far, no dice. But this wasn’t me giving up. I never gave up—case in point? Lydia. I was literally going to Hell in order to earn her favors (well, some political favors of my own, as well).

  Regardless, it looked like I was going to have to call him, much to my chagrin. Damn it.

  “Yeeello,” an obnoxious, Boston-accented voice said from the other end of the line, stretching out the word like ‘yellow’, instead of the proper ‘hello’. It immediately set my teeth on edge and it took every ounce of control I had not to snap at him. Truly, I was in a mood.

  “Tyordan,” I said stiffly.

  “Ty,” he corrected me, and there was a loud popping sound on the other end, followed by smacking. He was chewing gum right into my ear. Perfect. “You know I don’t go by that fussy name anymore. Gotta keep up appearances with the humans.”

  Tyordan Wrathmore was a perfectly respectable name. I wasn’t sure why he tried to divorce himself from his given and his family surname. It was practically a meal ticket, given how high up in society they operated. Why he’d gone into business with a trafficking organization was beyond me. He wasn’t even trafficking humans. He was rescuing them. Very strange. I personally didn’t like the fact that humans trafficked each other either, but it wasn’t really my business. Leave human depravity to the humans.

  Anyway, Tyordan worked closely with the Hexus Rangers, who acted like the justice system in our world, sorting supernatural kidnappings and murders from the mundane ones. He acted like he wanted to be an angel, not a demon, and that was even more disgraceful than Fifi’s insistence on acting human.

  “Fine, Ty,” I said, the name coming through my gritted teeth and the only reason I’d agreed to call him by his ridiculous nickname was because I needed a favor from him. “I need to...” I swallowed thickly, hating the words I had to say next. “Ask for help.”

  There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before he asked, “Is that a joke? You know I have important work to do, Ang. I don’t have time for your pranks.”

  “It’s not a prank and don’t call me Ang.”

  Another long stretch of silence. I could tell he didn’t believe me. I was tempted to hang up the phone and try my mother again. It was less humiliating and costly than going to Tyordan. He’d want me to repay the favor sometime, doing something selfless for people outside my family. Yuck.

  “Alright,” he said at last. “What can I help you with, Ang?”

  “Angelo,” I corrected, breathing in as deeply as I could and trying to talk myself out of hanging up the phone.

  He laughed. “Angelo, fine, fine. What in the hell do you want?”

  I told him, recapping my conversation with Lydia’s familiar, adding that I probably didn’t have the whole story. The cat twitched, confirming my suspicions. I definitely wasn’t taking Chex to Vegas the next time I visited. He’d lose every coin he had. Assuming he had them. But he’d definitely lose something. The click-clack of keys was the only sound on the other end of the line for a few minutes.

  “I don’t see Lydia Rourke in my files yet,” Tyordan said. “No one has filed a missing person report.”

  “What about Lydia Morton?”

  He paused a moment. “Nothing on that name either.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Actually, that’s not surprising, given that she hasn’t even been gone for twenty-four hours and she was set to move, anyway. No one will be expecting her to call for a few days and no one in the Hollow knows her. Probably a countermeasure to keep from getting caught.”

  “Yeah, I could have guessed that,” I said waspishly. “Can you tell me something I don’t know?”

  “Keep your pants on. I know it’s difficult for an incubus, but I’d appreciate it.”

  “Funny, Tyordan.”

  “Ty.”

  “Funny, Ty.”

  “You said she was taken by a Reeper Demon?”

  I glanced sideways at Chex. I only had the cat’s word for it, but he seemed genuinely worried for the gypsy and he nodded emphatically, as if to say he hadn’t gotten his demons mixed up. I sighed.

  “So, I’ve been told. Is there any relevance to that?”

  “Maybe. I think your friend may be caught up in something unpleasant.”

  “Well, no shit. She was taken by a demon and not for a cruise. Unpleasant is a given.”

  “True. Give me a sec.”

  More clacking. I made myself a third cup of coffee in Fifi’s fancy machine, dipping into her stash of artisan grounds instead of mine. She’d chew me out for it once she found out, but I didn’t care. It was a ‘drown yourself in coffee’ kind of day. The more caffeine, the better. After another minute, Ty sucked air through his teeth.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” I sighed.

  “Yeaaaah,” he said, stretching the word out in that irritating way of his. “I’d say so. It wasn’t just any Reeper that took her.”

  “Who the hell was it?”

  “The Appropriator.”

  “Not to be confused with The Terminator. What a dumb title.”

  “Dumb or not, he’s dangerous. Goes by Simon Wiess when he’s running around topside.”

  My stomach dropped. I’d heard of Simon Wiess. Simon, or the Appropriator was notorious in some circles and revered in others. He was a collector of some of the darkest, nastiest stuff Earth had to offer. Unlike Reepers who went to the surface to collect human meals and slaves for their masters, the Appropriator collected supernatural citizens. The Hexus Rangers had been after him for years, but never had the resources to capture him. And as well-connected as he was, I doubted they could keep him locked up, even if they managed to take him alive.

  “Well, shit.”

  Tyordan’s laugh was bleak. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

  “You don’t have a record of Lydia Rourke or Morgan, but you probably have a guess as to what happened to her, I’m betting. Give me your theory.”

  He sighed. “There’s word circulating that there’s a big auction coming up. Dukes, Archfiends, the best-connected vampires, Winter Sidhe, and others will be there to buy. If your girl’s included in that auction, it’ll be hard to get her out. Security will be almost impenetrable. I could report this to Lucretia Boline but by the time they found someone to infiltrate, your girl will be long gone.”

  “Dammit.”

  I ground my teeth for the umpteenth time. That was exactly what I was afraid of. There was really only one way inside. I had the right name and the right connections. If I could reach my father, he’d probably have an invitation he’d be willing to give me. It would be a few hours by plane to make it to LA, and longer to schmooze my way into getting the green light from my old man. I could find an entrance into the lower layers there, resume my true form, and go looking for the missing gypsy.

  The question was, did I want to? It was a lot of time and effort for one woman, and I could lose the bidding, anyway. I wasn’t going to start an interdimensional incident over her.

  I glanced at Chex again. He was scrutinizing my face, ears flat to his skull. He could probably guess the direction of my thoughts—those being: why bother? Unless I was willing to kill him to keep him from blabbing to the Council, I was stuck. Even if I did kill him, he’d be back someday. Familiars didn’t stay dead and he probably had plenty of lives to spare. What were the odds I could rob him of all nine? And, really, what were the odds that I could actually kill him? After all, I was a lover, not a killer. And he was a cute enough little, furry thing—as cute, little furry things went. Yeah, I’d prefer him alive. Damn it.

  I let out another gusty sigh and drained my cup. “Fine. Give me the location of the auction. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Eight

  Angelo

  “Why the hell did you come, Tyordan?” I snarled. “And why did you bring her with you?”

  Maybe it was owing to the fact that I was spitting anger that Tyordan didn’t correct me on his name. Instead, he shrugged, stretching the seams of his striped polo shirt almost to the bursting point. And he was wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts, for crying out loud. What self-respecting demon went around dressed like a middle-aged man on vacation in Cape Cod?

  He only pulled it off by virtue of his lineage, which granted him all the appeal of an ordinary incubus. Which was to say that women stopped to stare at him (and me, of course) at regular intervals as we strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, with some even trailing behind us in hopes of catching our attention. They were out of luck on that front. Tyordan was as gay as rainbows, or I would have tried to pair him up with my odd duck of a sister. And speaking of my sister...

  Tyordan hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and gave me a sheepish shrug. “It was a policy thing, man. I’m not in charge of my unit. Moira said to check in with the Hollow’s council before proceeding.”