A pang ran through me at his smile. He’d done the right thing in not having sex with me, against all odds, but damn it, part of me wished I’d had his mouth on me for just a little longer.

  “Hounds... um... hellhounds, I think. Indigo’s memories said that there were different kinds of breeds, but she wasn’t sure which. They were huge... black... compound eyes... fire.” I shuddered and reached up to massage my right shoulder. I swore I could feel phantom impressions where the teeth had been. “And teeth. So many teeth.”

  Angelo scooted his chair to my side of the table and, before I could protest, lifted me onto his lap. I wasn’t exactly small, but he made me feel delicate and petite when he tucked my head under his chin, curling me like something tiny and precious against his chest. My heart started to hammer, and this time it had nothing to do with the nightmare.

  “Hellhounds are nasty fuckers,” he said. “If Indigo was mauled, I don’t blame you for screaming. I’m just surprised she survived.”

  “She almost didn’t. Susan was skilled in mirror walking and opened a portal for her just before she died. Indigo went to her family for help, and she must have pulled through... somehow.” I forced a smile. It felt unnatural on my face. “I… I’m doing a lot of trailing off and rambling, aren’t I?”

  He smiled back, and the emotion was warm and genuine. And for once, it didn’t feel like the smile was at my expense. “Yes, it’s all very dramatic.”

  “Coming to theaters this summer, Lydia has a bad dream. It’s a thriller folks, it’s kept an entire household up all night,” I joked, but I couldn’t say I felt any humor.

  “It’s not just a bad dream,” Angelo said, his smile slipping. “You know that. Whatever you witnessed was real, and it happened, and we should talk about it.”

  “I know.”

  But I didn’t want to talk about it. I stared at the living room, or what passed for one in my loft. It was nice and bland. Beige carpet and slightly lighter beige walls. The couch was a pop of green among all the earth tones. Angelo had made himself a little nook next to the couch and kept his bedding draped over the back until evening. I’d laid claim to the armchair. The couch was so saturated with Angelo’s scent that it was safer that way. He wasn’t actively trying to snare me with his pheromones, but biology was biology. Smelling good was an excellent adaptation to have when you wanted to attract a mate. Or a dozen horny co-eds. Same thing, to an incubus, really.

  “So, talk,” he pressed.

  “I liked it better when I thought you were just trying to get into my pants,” I muttered darkly against his clavicle. Curled this close to him, his laughter vibrated through me.

  “Oh, that’s still on the agenda, but not tonight. Terror isn’t exactly a turn-on. I mean, a little uncertainty or anxiety can be fun if you’re on the kinky side and on the receiving end of the rough. But terror? No. That’s not my thing. If you’re going to use me shamelessly for sex, I’d like it to be under better circumstances.”

  It was all said in a light, teasing tone, but I still cringed. I had been trying to use him for sex. I wanted to escape my body for a little while. I needed to feel something other than revulsion. Knowing what Indigo had done made me feel tainted. Defiled. I just wanted to feel something pleasant.

  “Sorry I woke you up,” I mumbled. “I’m sure I’m a pain in your ass.”

  “You’re saving me from hearing and likely witnessing my sister’s wall-crushing sex with that sasquatch. Trust me, a nightmare or two isn’t a hardship. Especially if I get to comfort you like this.”

  He pulled me even closer so that I could feel the heat of him through the satiny material of my nightgown, which he’d insisted I put back on. I was suddenly very aware of the lean contours of his body. He pressed a searing kiss to the skin of my neck and desire made my stomach clench so hard and unexpectedly that I gasped.

  “No cheating,” I hissed, swatting his shoulder.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just trying to get the taste out of my mouth.”

  “The coffee is that bad?”

  “It’s not the coffee.”

  I frowned up at him. “Then?”

  “It was your fear. You had too much of it and you were about to have a nervous breakdown. I had to do something and bedding you was out.”

  “Why was it out?” I didn’t mean to ask the question, but it came out anyway.

  “Because you would have hated me for it when you sobered up and I want more than one night with you. So, I did what I could.”

  “Which was what?”

  “I siphoned the bad feelings out of you, but that’s not really what I’m made to do, so I guess you could say I’m having a tough time with it.”

  “What do you mean by a tough time?”

  He breathed in deeply. “There’s a bad, a foul taste in my mouth now—the taste of your panic and your fear.”

  I dimly remembered Indie mentioning something about Reeper demons starting out as incubi a long time ago. Interbreeding with the lowest layers of infernals had transformed them into something different, but at the end of the day, they had to feed in a similar fashion, sucking life force from a victim. Some of the nastier ones turned to torture as a way to elicit the pain and fear they fed on. If Angelo had done what he’d said he had, it was... sweet. Kind. Not at all what I imagined a demon would do.

  I turned in his arms so I could get a better look at him. “You... you ate my fear?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, sprouts,” he chuckled. “Technically edible, but not pleasant. Just trying to get a palate cleanser.”

  “You could ask for a kiss like a normal person.”

  He flashed me one of his wicked, devil-may-care grins. “Fine, may I kiss you?”

  “You may.”

  “Do I get to choose where?” he teased. “Because I have a few ideas.”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  He laughed. I expected him to turn me in his arms and plant a wet one right on my lips. Instead, he pushed the strap of my nightgown down my arm, baring my shoulder. Cool air wafted over my shoulder just before his mouth closed on the tender skin. It wasn’t much. Hell, it was practically chaste, considering who was touching me, but you wouldn’t have guessed that from my body’s reaction. I’d had sex that didn’t feel half as good as Angelo’s power pulsing through that one point of contact. Granted, it hadn’t been an incredibly high bar to clear. Rodney had never been impressive in bed.

  I caught Angelo’s hand when it tried to wander. As much as I would have liked to continue this, it was treading dangerously close to the line.

  “We can’t.”

  “We could,” he countered, “But we won’t. And since we won’t be spending the morning participating in my favorite activity, why don’t we get back to the matter at hand?”

  “The matter at hand?” I repeated innocently.

  Angelo’s look was chiding. “Lydia.”

  “Fine, fine, we’ll talk. But I’ve already told you most of it. Indigo was nearly killed by the hellhounds.”

  “Yes, I get that, but the question is, why?”

  My stomach gave an uneasy roll. There was the unpleasant truth again. I only had guesses until I could sit down and interrogate Indigo, but what I could glean from the memory sickened me.

  “What do you mean, why?”

  Angelo frowned, clearly put out with me. I got that look a lot around here. I was something of a rare bird. I was a gypsy, which meant I should have had more knowledge than most. I didn’t. I looked like I had the powers of a witch (and I sort of did), but I wasn’t one. I was dangerously ignorant of the world outside my door. If Indie hadn’t come through mine, I might have stayed that way.

  “Why are you frowning at me like that?” I asked.

  “Because hellhounds don’t just appear. They’re not like spectral dogs that can pop up in graveyards, or places of death like morgues. Hellhounds live in... you know, Hell. Or in several close approximations, at any rate. It takes time and effort to breach the barriers between worlds.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That someone sent them. Someone powerful, and it wasn’t that Murrain guy. He’s got the magical muscle to do some serious damage, but he wasn’t a demon. I’d sense it if he was. That means there’s someone else involved—most likely a demon out there—someone who wanted Indigo dead.”

  “And it might come after me since I reek of her,” I whispered as the realization dawned on me.

  He nodded. “So, anything else you can recall would be great.”

  I darted a glance around the loft. The air felt hot, and the walls were too close. I could still remember how it felt to have something plow through drywall right next to my face. The carpets weren’t tacky with blood, but I could practically smell it anyway.

  “Not here,” I said. “Could we... could we take a drive, please?”

  Angelo set me on my feet with palpable reluctance. He scanned me from head to toe, smirking when he was through with his perusal.

  “If you go out in that little number, you’ll stop traffic.”

  “What little traffic there is in a Hollow before dawn,” I drawled. “So no, I wouldn’t be stopping much traffic at all.”

  “I’ll be happy to provide the honking and wolf whistles if you like.”

  “Just get dressed and walk with me, Angelo. I have to be back to open the store in an hour.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lydia

  My breath plumed in front of my face the second we stepped foot outside.

  That wasn’t unusual for this time of year. Hoarfrost came in the night, coating everything in its path with crystalline shards. The wrought iron railing that led up the shallow steps to Occult Oddities was covered in the stuff. It left a slight tingle on my palm when I touched it, and I paused, frowning at the railing in confusion. What was that?

  Magic, Indigo answered, speaking for the first time since I’d shouted her down. Faerie magic, I think. It’s difficult to tell with you in the way. Your senses aren’t attuned to magic the way mine were. I used to be a connoisseur of the different types before I ended up fused with you.

  Oh, I just bet you were, I hissed back venomously.

  So, are you going to have this attitude with me forever?

  It depends. First off, I want to know if it’s true? Were you really doing what it looked like you were?

  And just what do you think I was doing? Indigo hedged. She was uncomfortable now, but trying not to let it show. She was in the wrong and she knew it, but just like a typical witch, she was too proud to admit she’d made a mistake.

  You were killing people.

  No. Monsters. Humans were never the targets.

  My stomach sank. Those six words confirmed everything I’d seen. Part of me hadn’t wanted to believe she could have been capable of something like that. I felt sullied, somehow tarnished by her presence in my body. If I could have scraped every trace of her off me, I would have. I felt her cringe at the thought, anger, and shame making her curl into a mental corner in a resentful little ball.

  You know that makes it worse, right?

  What makes it worse? she asked, like she didn’t already know.

  That you were killing monsters over humans. Humans aren’t your species. Monsters are your peers, your own kind.

  You wouldn’t understand my reasons, even if I explained them to you, Indie said. And, just for the record, I wasn’t killing them.

  But you were labeling them to be killed. You were scouting them.

  Right. She sounded tired, and for the first time, I could feel the weight of every year she’d lived. A hundred and forty-three arduous years and every single one had left her colder and more bitter than the one that came before.

  “Lydia?”

  Angelo’s voice finally drew my head up. I realized I’d been staring at the railing long enough for the heat of my hand to melt most of the ice. I withdrew it gingerly and rubbed the feeling back into the tips of my fingers.

  “Sorry, I spaced off. Were you saying something?”

  “I was asking what you were doing.” He gave me that devil’s smile once more, causing heat to build over my cheeks.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, descending the stairs. “I just sensed faerie magic in the ice. It startled me, that’s all. I’m not used to this sensing magic stuff. I was pretty much a mundane before Indigo crashed into my life.”

  “That’s probably Police Chief Morgan’s doing,” Angelo said dismissively. “We’re in her season, after all.”

  “Her season?”

  He nodded. “Winter. So, her powers are bound to be stronger. It’s most likely affecting the weather.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Angelo blinked. “... oh. No one told you about Taliyah, did they?”

  “I mean, I know who she is, of course, but it’s not like I know her backstory.”

  “She’s the heir apparent to the Winter Court of Faerie. She was hidden from her Aunt Janara after an assassination attempt. The memory spell and power seal broke though, so she’s a faerie princess now. She’d be queen if she deposed her aunt, but she doesn’t seem interested in being anything other than the chief of police here.”

  I felt like sitting down on the steps for a little while, cradling my head in my hands. This place was just too weird. The coven of witches and a clan of vampires I could kind of wrap my head around. Things started getting wonky when I realized that the ice cream shop was run by a centaur and the best martinis in town were mixed by a sasquatch. My roommate was an incubus, and my overweight cat talked and helped me do magic. My distant cousin lived across a graveyard from a zombie. And apparently, the Chief of Police was Elsa. I could feel a hysterical giggle building in my chest. I wasn’t convinced that I hadn’t hallucinated everything after Indigo blew up. Maybe I was actually sitting in a padded room somewhere, making an orderly very uncomfortable.

  “Are you okay?” Angelo asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No,” I said. “I’m definitely not okay.”

  Angelo bounced his keys in his hands once before jerking his head in the direction of the street. “I said I’d listen to your woes. Let’s get in the car. I’m freezing my magnificent ass off.”

  “You know most men don’t have as high an opinion of their asses as you do your own,” I said, sidling up to him. He offered me his arm and I took it.

  “Most men don’t have an ass like mine,” he said smugly.

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. Angelo was conceited, an incorrigible flirt, and fuzzy on the whole morality thing, but I was convinced there was a good man under all the pretense. He’d taken my fear and panic and asked for almost nothing in return. He’d pried me off him, refusing to take advantage of me when he easily could have—shit, I was basically begging him to. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d followed through. Every signal I’d put out said I was down for a tussle between the sheets.

  The interior of Angelo’s BMW heated quickly, and I settled into the bucket seat with a contented sigh. He steered the car down Main Street slowly, careful on the thin coating of ice that clung to the blacktop. It wouldn’t do to fishtail off the road and end up in someone’s storefront.

  “So, what’s wrong?” he asked. “This isn’t just about the hellhounds. The fear I understand, but not the disgust. Something else happened.”

  Indigo muttered mutinously in the back of my head. She disliked the incubus more with every human facet he showed. If he’d been a playboy, she could have written him off. The compassion... well, that made him dangerous in her opinion. Compassionate people were prone to doing things based on emotion instead of practicality. He was perceptive and she hated that too.

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “It did. I figured out what Indie and her crew were up to. Part of it, anyway.”

  Angelo didn’t turn, but I could feel his attention sharpen. I hadn’t told him about Indigo’s status as a felon, but from his remarks, he’d guessed it was something along those lines. You didn’t piss off powerful people like Murrain unless you ran in some pretty dark circles.

  “Oh?”

  “They were killing monsters,” I said with a shrug, like it wasn’t such a big deal—like it was something we all should have guessed. “And I think they were stealing their magic. The witch that died said something about ‘rendering’. Do you know what that means?”

  He frowned. “Can’t say I do.” Then he looked at me. “Do you have any idea what it means?”

  “Maybe in a human, mundane sort of sense.”

  “Okay.”

  I nodded, realizing he wanted me to explain. “My dad used to work at a meat packing factory until my powers developed. He quit when the smell on him kept prompting me to run away, just to get away from the feeling that saturated the house. ‘Rendering’ is the process of cutting and grinding animal carcasses into small pieces. The final step in the process is separating fat to be made into lard or tallow from the meat and bone meal.”

  Angelo considered that for a second and then the implications sunk in. He looked faintly green, and his next swallow was audible. I wondered if he wanted to puke as badly as I did.

  “They’re... eating these monsters they catch?”

  Of course not, Indigo sniffed. That’s barbaric. They’re buried when we’re through with them. It’s just their power we were after.

  Oh, because that’s so much better.

  “No. I think they’re somehow extracting magic from their targets. And, in doing so, it seems to kill them.”

  “Of course it does,” Angelo snapped, and there was a note of absolute ice in his tone that I’d never heard from him before. “Magic is a part of who we are. It’s why I fought to keep Fifi from trying to amputate her succubus side.”

  “She wanted to do what?”

  “She tried to starve her inner succubus until it was too weak to resist the curse a witch intended to use on her to remove her succubus. Thank the dark ones below Fifi found the sasquatch and came to her senses.” He paused, and I could tell he was trying to push the memory out of his head. When he turned to face me again, it seemed he was victorious. “Do you think that witch was one of Indigo’s partners? Could she have been trying to do that... that rendering thing to my sister?”