“And what does the Prince of Cups want with me?”

  “I’m investigating a murder,” I explained. “I’m afraid the victim was a member of your family. Andrew Vane-Tempest. His body was found outside the Velvet this morning.”

  Tara turned away from me and stalked across the balcony. It seemed a lot smaller now I was stuck on it with a pissed-off lycanthrope. “I was under the impression,” she snarled when she came back, “that the Velvet was a safe haven. How did she allow this to happen?”

  Defending Julian was not part of my job. But all the same . . . “It actually happened outside.”

  “It’s still her territory. If she can’t defend it, then it should pass to someone who can.”

  “I’m here to solve a murder, not discuss politics.”

  She smiled, the wolf fading from her eyes. “You’re talking to an alpha werewolf on behalf of a vampire prince, and you don’t think it’s about politics?”

  Huh.

  “Go on then,” I sighed. “Politics me.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t have hurt one of our own, yah.” She tossed back her hair in a ripple of gold and sunlight. “And the vampires don’t shit where they eat, which suggests to me that somebody wants to start a war.”

  “Or someone has a personal grudge against woof— er, werewolves, and is lashing out at whoever they can.”

  Tara sat down on the edge of the naked-woman-swan-fountain thing, crossing one leg over the other. “Anyone with a grudge against werewolves has been dealt with. I can protect what’s mine. It must be the Witch Queen.”

  I really hoped it wasn’t. That would be embarrassing. And it didn’t seem her style. I admit I’ve made some bad dating choices, but last I checked, Nim wasn’t a complete psycho.

  “I’m not sure what the mages would get out of it,” I said carefully.

  “Power. Chaos. Opportunity. New hoodies. Who knows what those wretched little upstarts want.”

  I blinked. This was way above my pay grade. “They probably just want to be left alone.”

  “Well in that case, they shouldn’t dabble with powers beyond their understanding.”

  “Do you have any other suspicions?” I asked, trying to salvage the conversation.

  “Demons find people too valuable to kill, and faeries don’t do politics.”

  “But they hold grudges, don’t they?” I knew that from experience. “And your people have been hunting basically everything for like a thousand years.”

  Tara’s head snapped round, and she glared at me. It wasn’t a happy experience. “We watch the edges of this world, yah, because no one else can. If it wasn’t for us, you’d all have been slaughtered or enslaved centuries ago.”

  “Which means you must have made some powerful enemies.”

  “My enemies are my business, Kate Kane. They have no part in this.”

  Bully for her, but I couldn’t take that on trust alone. “What makes you so sure?”

  Her lips curled back, revealing a lot of sharp, white teeth. “I’m sure.”

  There was definitely something here, but there was no way I was getting it out of her, at least not without risking a mauling. I made the traditional don’t eat me gesture. “Just doing my job.”

  Tara smiled faintly, the tip of her tongue tracing the full arch of her upper lip. I guess she liked displays of submission. Maybe that would come in handy one day. Well, a girl could hope. Then she sighed, her breath stirring a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. “Poor old Andy. What rotten luck. When you find out who did this, I’ll expect to hear from you.”

  Unfortunately, I’m not very good at being submissive. “I’m working for Julian Saint-Germain.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t freak out and throw me off the balcony. Her eyes swept across my body. “People don’t usually say no to me, Kate Kane.”

  “In that outfit, I’m not surprised.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “I’m a werewolf, yah. For me this is overdressed.”

  I cleared my throat.

  “So, Kate Kane”—a playful little breeze twitched the edges of her robe apart—“is there anything else you want to say no to?”

  I swallowed. “Not on a balcony at the Dorchester.”

  “Some other time, then?”

  I made my escape. The worst thing about this job, apart from the shitty working hours and the constant risk of death, was that it was basically impossible to get anyone to tell you anything about anything. Maybe Tara was right and it was totally impossible for one of her family’s enemies to have come after Andrew in that alley, but I was fucked if I was taking her word for it. I’d look like a right knob if I spent the next week unpicking vampire politics, only to find that it was some spirit with a grudge all along.

  Yesterday’s grunt work had revealed that the Vane-Tempests had about eight houses in London and a spooky ancestral seat in the wilds of Oxfordshire. I’d visited Heather’s family holdings up by Hadrian’s Wall, and it had been haunted as shit. If I was going to look for greebly monsters that might want to kill a werewolf, it was the best place to start. And the best time to do that was while the pack alpha was knocking back champagne at a lingerie shoot after-party.

  Archer would have told me this was a mistake, and I had no idea what I was getting into. But he was dead, so what could he do?

  I took the Tube home, grabbed my iron dagger, then got in the car, stuck on some Tom Waits, and floored it to Oxfordshire. I was headed for Safernoc Hall, a place so hard-core posh it wasn’t even on Google Maps, and my route plan petered out somewhere around Aylesbury. I had to stop and ask for directions in places with names like Ickford, Worminghall, and Shabbington, and although nobody did the full Transylvanian peasant routine, they still looked at me a bit funny. I knew I’d found the place when my mobile phone went dead and I was suddenly alone on a narrow forest road in deepening darkness.

  There was probably some god-awful Gothic pile somewhere around here, but I didn’t want to just drive right up and be like, “Hey guys, mind if I stick my fingers in your birthright?” On a rational level, I was aware that wandering around an unknown haunted wood after dark looking for clues was not one of my Top Ten Most Sensible Plans ever, but I hadn’t got where I was by being sensible.

  Of course, where I was wasn’t that great. But fuck it, I had cold iron and a Maglite, and I was going monster hunting. Thanks to mummy dearest, I have quite a good instinct for otherworldly shit, and a pretty good sense of direction. All I had to do was stick close to the road and see if I could pick up the trail of something evil and bloodsucking. As recon went, it was pretty basic, but it was better than sitting around in a library.

  I let my senses sharpen and set off.

  The woods smelled of late summer, leaf mould, and wet dogs. It could almost have been a nice place for a walk, but not enough light got through the trees, and it was colder than it should have been for the time of year.

  Yep, haunted as shit. Just like Heather’s place.

  A light glimmered in the distance, pale as a star and, to use a technical term, wibbly. I hadn’t been the sort of kid who ran around in the woods a lot, but I was pretty sure chasing after weird lights in the dark was a one-way ticket to drowned in a marsh.

  I ignored it and kept walking. Dust caught at the back of my throat. A few more lights danced at the edges of my vision, like they were trying to get my attention.

  No, thanks. Not playing that game.

  A ghostly sobbing drifted out of the forest.

  Nope. Not playing that one either.

  I trudged on, realising I was in a bit of a bind. There was clearly something dodgy going on here, but I couldn’t find out what it was without letting it lure me into a trap. I figured the trick was to hold out for better quality bait.

  After a while, the lights and weeping faded. Then I saw a flash of silver in the distance. I froze, my hand tightening on the iron dagger. This time, there was definitely something out there. I waited, and there it was again. A gleam through the trees, and a huge white stag stood in the darkness watching me.

  Huh.

  I had no idea if this was what I was looking for, but I got a sense of its power, its age, and its anger. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would command an army of bloodsucking monsters. Then again, I’m not sure what somebody who did command an army of bloodsucking monsters would look like.

  I inched towards it. Moonlight spilled down the many points of its antlers.

  If you shot this guy’s mum, you’d seriously regret it.

  When I got closer, it bolted. My mother’s instincts flared hot, and before I knew what I was doing, I was chasing the thing.

  I was dimly aware it was a really bad idea, but I just couldn’t stop.

  Faery magic: fucking with people’s heads since ten million BC.

  Okay Kate, stop running now. It’s a faery, it’s a trap, you’re going down. Seriously, stop running. Now. Any minute now.

  The trees rushed past in a blur, and I thought I saw glimpses of ghostly figures in the shadows. I heard the crunch of withered leaves under my feet. This was not good.

  All right, Kate. One last try.

  I stopped. The forest was noticeably deader here. And I could hear an eerie singing coming from everywhere at once. Logically, if I turned round and walked back the way I’d come, I’d eventually find my car.

  So I tried it.

  I got about ten paces, and then there were wolves in my way. They slunk out of the forest, surrounding me.

  Here lies Kate Kane. Eaten by big bad werewolves. Beloved daughter. Sorely missed.

  I did the gesture Tara had liked so much. “I’m a PI, I’m investigating a murder. I’m not carrying silver.”

  A sandy-brown wolf, slightly larger than the rest of them, padded forwards and shook itself. There was a fluid shift of skin and fur, and then I was staring at a naked dude, which was the last thing I’d expected. I nearly blurted out something stupid about men not being full shifters, but then I wised up. I guess it was about genetics, not gender identity.

  “Uh, hi,” I tried instead.

  “You’re trespassing.” He was tall and muscular, with a strong jaw and very chiselled cheekbones. Reminded me a bit of Tara.

  “I’m investigating the murder of a member of your family.”

  “Oh, you’re her. We thought you might try something like this.”

  I’d been on a balcony with Tara for less than fifteen minutes, and she already knew me so well. I was almost touched. “Well, your alpha wouldn’t tell me anything, and I couldn’t rule out the possibility that something you’d already pissed off was coming after your family.”

  Unlike Tara, this guy didn’t immediately freak out, but he didn’t look exactly thrilled either. “I’d probably do the same if I were you, but this is family business. We take care of our own.”

  I was hearing that a lot lately. “Look, I get the fact you’ve got the big pack loyalty thing going on, but somebody was killed by some weird-arse monster, and you’re living in a forest full of weird-arse monsters.”

  “Hmm.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. I’d never realised how much I took fully clothed witnesses for granted. Finally he frowned, looked me in the eye, and asked, “How did he die?”

  Oh, God. We were here again. It was like a game of poker where nobody wanted to call. If I told him about the bloodsucking thing, there was a very good chance he’d leap to the obvious conclusion. But if I didn’t tell him, I’d get nothing, and this whole picnic would have been a giant waste of time. “Okay. He was sort of, well, exsanguinated. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a vampire. There were these bruisy-sucky bite marks all over the body. Right now I’m thinking demon or faery or general creepy monster.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Okay.” His eyes were still steady on mine. “We do not share our secrets with outsiders, but I will tell you that nothing in this forest could have done what you describe.”

  There was another long silence.

  “No offence, but why should I take your word for that?”

  He put a hand on his chest, and a faint smile touched the corners of his lips. “You doubt the word of an English gentleman?”

  “My line of work, you doubt the word of your own nan. But I guess I don’t have a choice.” Well, I did have a choice. My choice was believe the werewolf, or spend the rest of the night in a haunted forest, searching for something that might not even exist.

  “You’re very slightly more reasonable than Tara led me to believe.”

  I’ve never been good with compliments, but I didn’t think that was one. “Thanks.”

  I got a full wolf escort back to the road. I’d like to think it was for my safety, but by the way they chased my car halfway back to town, they probably just wanted to make sure I left.

  I got back to my flat close to midnight, which left me a couple of hours to look over the case notes and drink heavily. I hadn’t learned anything definite, but it looked like the werewolf connection was a non-starter for the time being.

  I laid out the evidence I did have. Archer’d had this whiteboard he liked to use, but I had a coffee table. I pulled the crime scene photos out of the file and stared at them. Still a dead guy, still missing eight pints of blood, still covered in those weird circular bruises. Further examination of the ziplock bag confirmed my initial suspicions: it was icky. The whole thing was icky. The weird goo. The marks on the body. Those alone almost ruled out the major powers. Vampires and werewolves are many things, but they’re not generally slimy. And the things at Safernoc hadn’t been slimy either.

  It could have been a random act of monster, but somehow it didn’t feel random.

  I laid out a mind map of the case with the contents of my drinks cabinet. Vermouth for Julian. Tequila for Tara. Tonic water for Andrew, poor bastard. Goldschläger for Kauri. I wasn’t sure how Nim fit into this yet, but I poured myself a shot of Drambuie to represent her.

  I spent half an hour moving everything about, until I realised I was sitting in front of a table of empty bottles with no idea what any of it meant.

  Want to read more of Iron & Velvet?

  Visit riptidepublishing.com/titles/iron-velvet-kate-kane-paranormal-investigator-1.

  EXCERPT: SHADOWS & DREAMS

  Second rule in this line of business: be careful who you kill.

  I don’t know which is more dangerous: my job, or my girlfriend. My job makes me the go-to girl for every supernatural mystery in London. My girlfriend’s an eight-hundred-year-old vampire prince. Honestly, I think it’s probably a tie. A few weeks ago, I was hired for a simple missing person case. Next thing I know, I’m being arrested for murder. Something ancient, evil, and scary as hell is on the loose and looking for payback. The vampires are in chaos, the werewolves are culling everything, and the Witch Queen can’t protect everyone. Which means it’s down to me. And all I’ve got to hold back the shadows is a stiff drink, a quirky sidekick, my creepy ex-boyfriend, and the woman who left me for a tech startup. It’s going to be another interesting day.

  Available now.

  Ebook: ISBN: 978-1-62649-100-7

  Paperback: ISBN: 978-1-62649-101-4

  riptidepublishing.com/titles/shadows-dreams-kate-kane-paranormal-investigator-2

  My name’s Kane, Kate Kane. I’m a private investigator, operating out of a dingy office just off Bow Street.

  Thirty-something years ago, my deranged faery queen of a mother left me on my dad’s doorstep wrapped in a wolf skin, in a basket made of briars.

  Fifteen years ago, I was deep in the closet, dating a vampire dickhead who hated himself, failing my A-levels, and trying to come to terms with being a faery princess. A faery princess with a bunch of scary hunter powers and a mum who keeps trying to take over her body.

  Ten years ago, I’d dumped the vampire, moved to London, done a BTEC in private investigation, and got a job with a bloke named Archer.

  Last year, I split up with my long-term girlfriend, slept with a client, and got my partner killed (not entirely in that order).

  Three months ago, I was hired by Julian Saint-Germain, one of the four most powerful vampires in England, to investigate a murder at one of her clubs. I saved her from a crazy faery sewer lord, but along the way, I ended up striking a deal with a giant rat gestalt, swearing fealty to the Witch Queen of London, and playing sex chicken with an alpha werewolf. Also, I sort of accidentally killed a thousand-year-old vampire prince.

  Oh, and me and Julian are sort of seeing each other.

  Snow was falling through silver mist on the Dream of a city.

  I edged forwards over the icy bridge, my sword raised to strike. The Sorceress raised her hand to the pearl-grey sky. The clouds cracked open. I threw myself aside, and a lance of green-tinted lightning struck the place where I’d just been standing. I rolled to my feet and charged.

  Our blades met in silence.

  The snow glistened on the edge of my sword and dusted the dark green coils of the Sorceress’s unbound hair.

  I wrapped my free hand round her sword arm and pinned it against my body, turning my own blade back to bring the point level with her throat.

  She smiled. Her eyes gleamed like absinthe behind her ornate mask. She leaned towards me and ran her fingers gently across my cheek. In the half light, her nails sparkled, bright as emeralds.

  I ran my sword through her throat.

  She billowed into green smoke and dissipated into the mist.

  I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and the taste of wormwood. I’d been having these dreams since I’d sworn fealty to Nimue. Sometimes it was a lady in green, sometimes it was a giant pig, sometimes it was shadowy armies, and once it had been this weird monster with a snake’s head, a lion’s body, and rabbit’s feet that I’d chased in circles and then lost somewhere in Seven Dials.

  To be honest, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my new nighttime adventures, and I missed the days when the dreams I remembered involved three nuns and a set of handcuffs. But Nim had given me her help when I’d asked for it, and it could have been a lot worse.