“Never mind. Would you mind turning down the lights?”

  I turn and do as she’s asked, adjusting the dimmer switch. The room is surprisingly soundproof.

  “The whole place is soundproof,” says Allison absently, her voice already dropping down an octave or two. “Has to be. Okay, let me get centered and clear my head.”

  “Got it,” I say.

  “Shh.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Samantha Moon!”

  “Right, sorry.”

  She shakes her head as I smile and wait for her to work her magic. Well, a kind of magic. It’s called distance viewing, and she’s pretty good at it. In fact, it’s the first psychic skill that reared its head in this lifetime. Previously, we had all been part of a trifecta. From what I understand, we had started our witchy ways quite young. In this lifetime, not so much. Yes, I had seen a fairy at a young age, but I had been talked out of what my own eyes had seen, and magic seemed to have passed me by. Perhaps, my higher self/soul knew big changes were in store for me in this life, and didn’t bother with all the training being a witch in a trifecta would entail.

  Weirdly, it was the same with Allison.

  Witchcraft had sort of passed her by at a young age, only to express itself first in psychic abilities later in life. Allie and I had considered why this was so, and concluded we had met horrific deaths in our past witchy lives. Also, Millicent the ghost—typically the third in our group—had incarnated decades before us. She had told us she wanted to come before, so that she could be our ‘guide from beyond’. A ghost witch, in essence. Strange, I know, but according to her, she could aid us even further in spirit, going places we couldn’t imagine. Of course, that had been before I went and got myself turned into a vamp. There went the trifecta. Luckily, we had an understudy in the wings. So Ivy Tanner, a fairly famous actress, stepped in. She eventually left when life threw her a curveball and I briefly stepped in to fulfill that third role. Except... I wasn’t much of a witch. Though I had some ability still, it wasn’t enough to be effective. I’m a much better vampire, it turns out. Last I heard, my own daughter might step into the role, now that she’s been thoroughly—and I mean thoroughly—trained by Maple and the fairies.

  Meanwhile, Allie places the journal on the desk and rests both hands on the cover. She closes her eyes, slowly rolling her head around her shoulders, stretching her neck this way and that. She appears relaxed, calm, and focused. I know, in fact, she’s going deep within... and setting her mind free. The question is: where in the hell is it going? To answers, I hope. My usual line of questioning had turned up nothing. Luckily, Allie is part of my unusual line of questioning.

  “Heard that, Sam,” she says softly, eyes still closed.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it was funny. Okay, I’m getting something... he’s alive, but I can’t see him.”

  “Do you always see those you distance view?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you ever distance view me?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “Wait, what? I was kidding. You really do?”

  “Sometimes. I like to check in on my friends from time to time.”

  “Am I ever with Kingsley when you distance view me?”

  “It’s happened before, yes.”

  “Were we ever in compromising positions?”

  “Sam, we’re getting off the subject here.”

  “Answer the question, witch.”

  Allie keeps her eyes shut but manages to blush. “It’s happened once or twice, yes.”

  My turn to blush. “And you pulled immediately out of the scene, right? Right, Allison Lopez?”

  She continues blushing, but now, she’s smiling. “Sure,” she says. “Now, can we get back to the task at hand? I have to check in to work soon, and you’re going to want to know what I’m seeing.”

  “I thought you couldn’t see him,” I say, suddenly grouchy and feeling violated.

  “I can’t see him, no. But I can see what he’s inside.”

  “Inside? What, like a boat?”

  “Not quite, Sam.”

  “What’s not quite a boat? A submarine?”

  She touches her nose as if this is a game of charades. “You’re getting warmer.”

  I think about it, still irritated that my friend sometimes snoops on Kingsley and I rolling around in the hay. Or in the wolf’s den, as I sometimes call it. Either way, it’s a monster of a bed. Didn’t know they made a size bigger than California King, but apparently they do.

  As I ponder, Allison opens her eyes and looks at me both sheepishly and eagerly, a nearly impossible expression to pull off, yet there it is: hooded, downcast eyes sparkling with anticipation. Whatever secret she’s uncovered is good, and she’s veritably bouncing in her chair.

  “Out with it,” I say.

  “No. Guess.”

  “A man’s life hangs in the balance.”

  “He’s fine, for now, though far from happy.”

  I growl. “Don’t you have a show to get ready for?”

  “C’mon, Sam. Guess. You’re close.”

  “Fine. Not a boat or a submarine. An underwater cave?”

  “Nope.”

  “Allie!”

  “Keep guessing, Sam.”

  “You said he’s alive, so he’s not in the belly of a shark.”

  Her eyes widen. “Go on!”

  “He’s alive and in the belly of a shark?”

  “Not quite.”

  It hits me now, something that I never, ever would have thought could happen in the real world, outside of a Bible story. “Are you telling me he got swallowed by a... whale?”

  “Yes, Sam... except it’s not a whale. It’s something much, much bigger.”

  “What in the hell’s bigger than a whale?”

  “I don’t know what it is, Sam. But it’s big... and it’s magical, which is why I can’t see your client’s brother inside, though I can feel him. Okay, I gotta run.”

  “No, wait. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

  “I’m not leaving you hanging, Sam. I have no idea what it is. But it’s big, and it swallowed your client’s brother. Okay, toodles!”

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s late, and I’m with Kingsley.

  The kids are here, too, which is always fun for them, I think. They each get their own room in their own wing, though they mostly hang out in his surprisingly cozy family room, complete with a U-shaped couch that could seat a family of twenty. Every gaming device known to man is stocked in the entertainment center.

  Anthony and Paxton are playing something called Warhammer 40K. I had asked for clarity. Was that 40K or 40,000? And how on earth had they been able to play the first 39,999 versions of the game? They stared at me for two or three seconds, then went back to formulating their war party. Apparently, they were going up against some nasty aliens with a taste for human flesh. I understood the obsession. Though I hadn’t consumed flesh, human blood had its moments.

  And yes, I hate myself for thinking that.

  Anyway, while they played, Tammy read a book in one of the couch’s cozier nooks. It was an Agatha Christie, of all things. And yes, she was turning her pages magically, without any thought. Let’s hope she doesn’t do that at school, too. Speaking of which, she had exactly two months left of high school, and, weirdly, has barely mentioned college, let alone applied for any schools. I went the junior college route, having been too poor for a regular university. I turned out fine, including a master’s in criminology. Truth is, I actually liked Fullerton College a tad more than Cal State Fullerton. Smaller, homier, easier to park, more accessible teachers.

  Of course, she will always have me and Moon Investigations. Truth be told, she’s a hell of an investigator, magic or no magic. She’s been working with me now for nearly a year or so—officially interning. Two more years of this, and she could take the California Private Investigator License Exam. Once done, she will be officially Tammy Moon, P.I.

  Not a bad ring to it. She even uses it as her screen name on her work laptop. And yes, I’ve seen her staring at it more than once. My daughter seems to have the necessary drive to see a case through to the end. The fact that she’s reading And Then There Were None is further proof that she might have been bitten by the investigator bug.

  Kingsley and I are cuddling in the living room next to the family room. One of his three living rooms, mind you. We have a view into the family room, where we can watch the kids through a wide arched opening. We can even see the TV screen from here, and yeah, a ton of aliens are going splat on the screen. Anthony is weirdly good at these video games. Paxton, not so much, but she’s eager to learn, and he’s willing to help.

  I can see Tammy’s socked foot shimmying above the couch line, resting atop her bended knee. Every now and then, I hear her pop a bubble from the gum she’s chewing.

  “Cozy,” says Kingsley. “Like we’re a Hallmark family or something.”

  “Does Hallmark have a freak channel? Hallmonsters maybe?”

  He chuckles. “Freaky for others, but just right for us. You said you wanted to talk?”

  I’d only returned from seeing Allison an hour earlier. I had picked up the kids, picked up a half dozen Little Caesars Hot-N-Ready pizzas, and descended upon the poor guy’s mansion.

  “I might need the help of your ex.”

  “My ex what?” Kingsley arches the mother of all hairy eyebrows.

  “Your ex-wife,” I say. “The mermaid.”

  He blinks. “You need Alexis’s help?”

  “Now more than ever.” I’d gotten him caught up on the case earlier. “Please tell me you left things with her on good terms.”

  “I gave her nearly all my money. I should hope so.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I could always make more. She was still, ah, finding herself.”

  “And...”

  “And I cheated on her.”

  “So you felt giving her most of your money was one way to make up for it?”

  “It certainly didn’t hurt. I was a shithead back then.”

  “You were a shithead when I first met you, too,” I say. “With quite the reputation, even among the media. They called you a womanizer.”

  “And I was... until I met the right woman.” He squeezes my shoulder. A good thing, too, because I felt the old irritation all over again. “I’m not like that anymore, nugget. You set me straight.”

  “Well, I don’t want to keep you from getting your fill of women.”

  He guffaws. “Noted.”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t want to keep you from, you know, all the nakedness.”

  He presses his lips together, choosing not to speak.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “Only that I’ve never been more happy than when I’m with you.”

  “Not even when you’re sleeping your way through the Orange County courthouse?”

  “That never happened, and no.”

  I open my mouth to speak and he places a big paw over it... er, hand. “I wish I never cheated on Alexis, but I did. I ruined something great, true. After all, there was a reason I married her. Ultimately, our lives were too different.”

  I chuckle from behind his thick fingers that smell of pizza grease.

  “No ocean/forest jokes, Sam. I can’t take another one.”

  “Just one,” I mumble from behind his delicious-smelling palm.

  “Fine. Just one.” He lifts his hand.

  “Well, I was going to say that it’s a rare relationship that’s built around one’s ability to dog-paddle.”

  “It’s wolf-paddling, and are you quite done?”

  “I am, yes.”

  “You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

  “It helps me cope with the strangeness of your past.”

  “Why is it strange? You know better than most that it never works with immortals dating mortals. Alexis is immortal.”

  “Is that why you went through so many mortal women, going from one to the next before they fell in love with you?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “You could have just said yes,” I say.

  “I guess, but that wouldn’t have been the honest answer. Yes, I got out of the relationship before there was any love... a love slave is rough on everyone. But I also enjoyed the lifestyle.”

  “What lifestyle?”

  “Being a roguish playboy. Every night was different. At the time, I enjoyed it.”

  “You wouldn’t enjoy it now?”

  “In short, no. Not if it cost me you. Now, can we get off the subject of my past relationships?”

  I snort. “You mean conquests, and yes.”

  He sighs. “Good. Now tell me why you need Alexis’s help. I assume it’s sea related?”

  “But of course,” I say, and catch him up on my case.

  As I do, we head to the kitchen, where he makes us some drinks. I’m feeling like something sweet and coffee-flavored and he makes me a white Russian. He pours himself some mead. Yes, mead. Apparently, there’s an outfit around here that brews the stuff. Kingsley is a fan. He’s also rich, as the Viking drink is pricey.

  Hard to believe this is the same kitchen where we had fought off a horde of demons three or four years ago. We killed a bunch and even managed to kill the devil himself. A lot of those demons are still out there, but they’re no longer a problem. Either they’ve gone into hiding, back to the many individual Hells, or had been destroyed. Oh, and there’s a new devil in town, but so far, he’s stayed off my radar.

  I’m sensing some hesitancy from Kingsley. “You don’t think she will help?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she would help.”

  “What then?”

  He hems and haws, running a thick finger down my forearm. “I guess I don’t relish the idea of my main two squeezes comparing notes. She didn’t get the best of me, after all.”

  “I know that. And here’s a radical concept... she gets to complain to me if she wants. And I get to agree or disagree, if I so choose. Oh, and here’s another concept: we even get to compare notes—and laugh at said notes.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “We’re professionals, and there’s a man missing out there... a man who needs our help. I doubt I can find him without her help. So, you’re gonna have to get over it and call her and deal with the fallout.”

  “Oh, I’m over it. I just don’t relish the idea.”

  “Relish it, mustard it, even ketchup it, I don’t care. But I’m gonna need her help ASAP.”

  “Fine. Can I at least finish my drink?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  He sighs and downs the drink. There isn’t a bottle of beer, or a jug of mead that my man can’t put away in seconds. He wipes his mouth. “I’ll make the call from my office, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind.”

  “Good,” he says with a touch of rebellion, as if he thinks he’s getting his way.

  With that, he stands and heads down one of his many hallways to an office I’m still not one hundred percent certain how to find.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, just long enough that I’m wondering what the hell they’re talking about (yes, feeling a tad insecure), Kingsley saunters back into the kitchen, looking both pleased and a bit worn out.

  “She’s on her way,” he says. “Thinks she might know what we’re dealing with, but didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”

  “Smart,” I say. “Is she jumping on a plane?”

  “Nope, but she is jumping off her backyard deck.”

  “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

  “She’s swimming here, Sam.”

  “From Seattle?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s like a thousand miles.”

  “Says she’ll be here in the morning. Asks you to meet her at the beach.”

  “Which beach?”

  “Newport Pier. Figures it will take her about ten hours. Says she could use a break and a swim.”

  “Wow. I could have teleported her.”

  “I suggested that.”

  “And?”

  “She declined. Refer back to the part of her wanting a swim.”

  “But isn’t time of the essence and all that?” I ask.

  “She thinks time isn’t the issue we might think it is in this case.”

  “Weird, but okay.”

  He’s leaning against the doorway, arms folded, grinning at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Be nice to her, Sam.”

  “Of course I’ll be nice to her. If anything, I sympathize with her.”

  “Because Danny cheated on you and all that?”

  “Yup, and...”

  “Yes, I cheated on you, kinda sorta. I was duped by Hanner, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “And I was duped, Sam.”

  “I know. I believe you.”

  “Just go easy on her—and me.”

  “You seem a little worried about Alexis and I teaming up.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  I study the man I have grown to love so much, then go over to him and slip my arms around his trunk-like waist. “Naw, honey bunches. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” I grin up at him. “I think.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Dressed in a robe that I might have accidentally packed from our stay at the Ritz in Newport Beach last year, I head over to Kingsley’s bedroom balcony overlooking his domain. Okay, not exactly his domain, but it might as well be with its view of rolling hillsides packed with stunted trees, knee-high grass, and, further, a majestic canyon.

  Though we don’t have many deer in Southern California, those we do have seem to congregate in that canyon, only to be hunted once a month by Kingsley’s faithful manservant, Franklin. Surprisingly, a vast network of tunnels exists beneath these rolling hills, home to an actual Minotaur. Yes, you read that correctly.

  Of all things to be on my mind this early in the morning—from mermaids to sea monsters—I find myself thinking of an angel.

  ‘Thinking’ might be too optimistic of a word, since I’m not sure what to think of Ishmael’s interest in me. Of course, ‘interest’ might be putting it lightly. He gave up eternity for me. And for what? A chance to be with me? Marry me? Hang out with me? Antique shop with me? Start a new angel/human/vampire hybrid colony on some distant world? I don’t know, because we’ve never had a real conversation before. Then again, maybe he’s incapable of planning for the future. Maybe angels are ‘in the moment’ creatures. Come to think of it, that kind of defines Anthony. Outside of playing video games, he puts his entire focus on our safety.