Dark Swan Bundle (71 page)

I gathered my will, channeling the power of my soul to spread past this world and the Otherworld, on to the Underworld. On my arm, a tattoo of a black and white butterfly sacred to Persephone began to burn as I touched her domain. The air near the demon dematerialized, forming an opening to the Underworld. Grabbing my silver athame with my free hand, I approached the battle, cautious of both the combatants and the forming gate.

Volusian hovered over the demon, keeping its eyes directed high. I sneaked up unnoticed. With well-practiced speed, I snaked out with the athame, drawing an arcane symbol on the demon’s chest. Usually, banishing a demon back to its domain kept it from returning. A binding mark like this ensured it. I didn’t want to take any chances.

The demon’s roar of rage echoed through the woods, and it turned toward me. I’d anticipated this and had already scrambled away, keeping out
of its reach. Really, I’d been lucky the first time it hit me. It had the strength to kill me with one blow. Volusian came forward again to pull the demon’s attention back—only, it didn’t work. The demon recognized the threat I was and could feel the opening of the gate. Volusian, attacking and attacking, was a nuisance—a painful one—but one the demon could apparently ignore as it came toward me.

“Shit,” I said. I backed farther and farther away, but the demon was quickly closing the distance. Its massive feet could trample the underbrush that slowed me so much. I worked hard to ignore just how dire my situation had become and instead concentrated on the gateway. That door grew more substantial, and soon, its power began calling to its own—sucking the demon back. The creature paused in its attack. The problem was, the gate wanted to pull Volusian too. Orders or not, he moved out of range for self-preservation, which I didn’t exactly blame him for. Only, without my minion to beat on the demon, it now had just enough strength to fight the gate and keep coming toward me. It had to know that if it could take me out, the gate would go away too.

Suddenly, I heard something approaching us, sticks and leaves crackling under strong feet—or, to be more precise, paws. A red fox—much larger than a normal one—sprang out onto the demon’s back, sinking its teeth into the furry brown hide. This brought another shriek from the demon—and gave me a moment’s respite. I threw all my power into the gate and jerked the demon toward
it. The demon flailed, unable to fight being sent back to its own world. The fox had the sense to get out of the way, its services no longer needed. The demon gave one last mournful cry and then faded from our sight. I stretched the wand toward where the demon had disappeared, sending my energy through the wand’s gems to banish the gate as well and reseal this world.

Silence followed, except for my own rapid breathing. Slowly, birds began to sing again, and the forest’s natural state returned. I leaned against a tall, leafless oak in relief. The banishing hadn’t been as easy as I expected, but it certainly could have ended worse—like, with my death.

“We didn’t need your help,” I said. “We were doing just fine.”

The fox was no longer there, as I’d already known. It had transformed into a tall, muscled man, with deep, golden-brown skin and black hair that barely touched his shoulders. He was a kitsune, a shape-shifting Japanese fox from the Otherworld. Actually, he was half-kitsune. His mother had been the kitsune; his father a mortal from Arizona. Power-wise, it made little difference.

“Yeah,” said Kiyo, crossing his arms over his chest. He needed no coat and simply wore a burgundy T-shirt. “You seemed to have it all under control.”

“We were about to,” I retorted.

“Actually, mistress,” said Volusian, deadpan, “your death was probably imminent.”

“Oh shut up,” I snapped. “You’re dismissed. Go back to the Otherworld.” Volusian vanished.

I turned back to Kiyo. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

He shrugged, and I worked hard to ignore the effect his physical appearance always had on me. “Same thing as you. I’m on Wil’s mailing list. When I heard about the Bigfoot sightings …”

I sighed and turned back the way we’d come. “I don’t need your help.”

“I wasn’t coming to help you.” He caught up with me easily. “I was coming to kill a demon bear. You just happened to be here first.”

Considering the trouble Volusian and I had had, I doubted Kiyo could have taken out the demon through brute force. Kiyo was strong, yeah, but hardly all-powerful. Unfortunately, he was all-bravery. He rushed into impossible situations, ready to defend others—even at cost to himself. He’d always been reckless that way—except for once.

And that was the core of our problems.

Kiyo and I used to date, wrapped in a deeply romantic and physical relationship. His continual disapproval of my Otherworldly relations had begun to fracture things between us. The final break had occurred after Leith had raped me. Kiyo had come to rescue me but had refused to punish Leith. Kiyo had advised a tamer course of action: letting Otherworldly justice take its course. Dorian, however, had opted for on-the-spot justice: he’d run Leith through with a sword. Kiyo and I had broken up shortly after that.

“You were outclassed,” I told Kiyo. “There are a
billion other creatures running loose right now. If you want to help, go after them.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot,” he said. “Tucson’s former caretaker is too busy playing queen.”

I came to a halt and glared. “I’m not playing at anything! Controlling the Thorn Land wasn’t my choice, and you know it.”

“That’s true. It was Dorian’s choice—one he tricked you into. Yet, somehow that doesn’t matter, and now it’s okay for you to shack up with him and wage war.”

I started moving again, marching through the woods in a haze of anger. When we’d broken up, Kiyo had been sad and withdrawn. Over time, he’d gotten his spunk back and now—whenever we ran into each other—didn’t hesitate to express his opinion of Dorian, the war, or anything else Otherworldly I was involved in.

“The war wasn’t my choice either,” I said at last, after refusing to respond for several minutes.

“Stopping it wasn’t exactly out of your control either.”

“So what are you saying? That I should just stop now and surrender?”

“No.” His calmness was annoying. “But there must be a peaceful way to end it. To negotiate something.”

“Don’t you think we’ve tried?” I exclaimed. “How bloodthirsty do you think I am? Every diplomat we send is either given unreasonable demands or met with death threats.”

“I like the use of ‘we.’ I wonder how seriously Dorian is taking the peace process.”

I could see the parking lot through the trees ahead. Good. I needed to be away from Kiyo. His presence was stifling. It stirred up too many feelings, too many feelings I didn’t want to deal with.

“Dorian isn’t running this by himself. We’re in it together, and
we
have tried to settle with Katrice.”

“And as that’s failed, you’re now going to march in with your allies and take her land with overwhelming force, expanding your empire.”

We reached the gravel lot, and I turned on Kiyo in full anger, hands on my hips. “We don’t have any allies. And I don’t want another kingdom! I sure as hell don’t want an empire!”

He shrugged. “Say whatever you want, but everyone knows you’re looking for people to join up with you.”

“And Katrice is doing the same,” I said smoothly. “I hear she’s visited the Willow Land quite a bit.”

Ah, that broke him. Kiyo’s smug, cool façade faltered. “Nothing’s decided,” he said stiffly.

“But your girlfriend’s no fan of Dorian and me. She’s afraid of us. How long, Kiyo? How long until she—and you—fight against us?” I was gaining ground; he was on the defensive. He and Maiwenn the Willow Queen had once been lovers; they’d even had a daughter together. I’d never believed their “just friends” claims since our breakup.

Kiyo took a step forward, leaning toward me and fixing me with that dark, dark gaze. “She’s not my girlfriend. And we’re staying neutral.”

I gave a shrug as masterfully casual as the one
he’d given me earlier. “If you say so. And I like
your
use of ‘we.’ Except, you don’t really have an equal share in it, do you? You just run along and follow her orders.”

“Damn it, Eugenie!” He clenched his fists. “Why do you have to be so—”

He couldn’t finish, and as we stood there, so close, I became aware once more of his body and the memories of our time together. I remembered what that body could do in bed. I remembered the way we’d laughed, how easily we’d connected. The Otherworld consumed so much of my time lately, but I was still half human. The human part of me called to other humans.

And as he looked down at me, the anger softening a little, I had a feeling he was thinking the same thing. If he had any lingering attraction, the animal attributes in him would make this doubly awkward. My physical appearance would trigger sexual attraction that much more quickly. Even my scent could arouse him.

He looked away. “Well. None of that matters. You should go home. You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, like I wasn’t shivering and covered in goose bumps.

“Of course you are.” He glanced back at me, a small, wry smile on his face. “Be careful, Eugenie.”

“With what exactly?” I asked.

“Everything.”

With that, he shape-shifted back into a fox—a smaller, normal one—and scampered off through the trees. Naturally, he was too hard-core to have driven up here. Suddenly feeling drained, I got out
Tim’s keys and turned toward the car. I’d done what I needed to, that was what counted. I didn’t want to think about Kiyo or war or anything like that. I wanted to go home and rest before the next job.

A tingling along my spine made me drop the keys as I felt an Otherworldly presence appear behind me. I spun around, pulling my wand back out as I did. There, before me, was a ghost. It was female, looking like she’d died in her midthirties. Her translucent form washed out any color, but her hair was curly and shoulder-length, her clothing casual. Seeing a ghost outdoors was rare; they tended to be attracted to material things. Still, location didn’t matter. They were dangerous. I pointed my wand at her, banishing words upon my lips.

“Wait, don’t!” she cried, holding up her hands.

Pleading ghosts weren’t uncommon. “Sorry. This isn’t your world. You need to move on. It’s for the best.”

“Please. Not yet. I need to talk to you, Eugenie Markham.”

I frowned, wand still poised and ready. “How do you know my name?”

“Because I’ve come to ask for your help. I need you to find out who killed me.”

Distracting your enemies by saying shocking things is a classic way to get an attack in. If this ghost had wanted to catch me off guard and move in, this would have been her chance. Instead, she just hung there in the air, staring at me. I forced my jaw closed and kind of wished Kiyo had stuck around to hear this bizarre development.

Finally, I said, “That’s not what I do. And anyway … I mean, wouldn’t you kind of know? Wouldn’t you have seen it?”

“No,” she said mournfully. “Whoever did it shot me in the head before I could see. They made it look like a suicide.”

I grimaced. Weak ghosts often appeared in their final state, as they’d looked at the time of death. This one was strong and able to appear as she remembered herself, for which I was grateful. I wouldn’t have wanted to see her after that gunshot.

“Well, I’m sorry for your … loss,” I told her, wondering why I hadn’t already banished her. “But private detective work isn’t my thing.”

“I can’t go to one!” she cried. “Or the police. Only you can see me. All the other ghosts said you were the one to go to.”

“All the other—what, do you guys have a country club or something?”

“Please, Miss Markham,” she begged. Her eyes were so, so sad. “I have to find out. If someone dangerous is walking around, I have to know. My
family
has to know.”

From what I knew, family was usually behind most homicides. “Look, you’re obviously strong. You have to be in order to move around like you do and come outside. It makes sense. If you’re this upset about what happened, then you’re bound strongly to this world while the, um, murder’s unsettled. So, the odds are, you probably could appear to someone else. Wouldn’t work on most humans, but you might get someone close to you to see you and hear you.”

“But would they
believe
me?” she asked bitterly. “They’d think they were imagining things. You’re the only one who knows this is real.”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I don’t investigate this stuff. Certainly not for ghosts. You’re getting my best offer here. Otherwise …” I held up the wand. “You move on to peace.”

She scowled and disappeared. Yes, a very strong ghost, one who should have already been in the Underworld right then and there. I shouldn’t have stopped to talk.

But what was one more ghost when I was already letting so many slide by? Kiyo’s accusatory words came back to me. I felt like I was doing a
half-ass job in both worlds, too divided to give either my full attention.

Nonetheless, I made the most of my day in Tucson. I knocked off three more jobs for Lara, much to her relief. Jobs meant money, meaning both of us got paid. She’d hinted in the past that our drop in work was creating financial problems, enough that she might need a second job. That made me uneasy because a second job could easily turn into her only job. Finding an administrative assistant who could schedule and bill supernatural appointments wasn’t that easy.

I came home at last to an empty house, with a note scrawled from Tim saying he had “a gig” tonight and that there was fettuccine alfredo in the refrigerator if I wanted it. Eating in front of the TV, I selfishly felt resentful that he’d go out on one of the few nights I was home. But why wouldn’t he? He certainly had a life, one I was hardly in. What really brought me down was that on a night like this, I once would have been over at my mom’s eating dinner. For a second, I stared at my phone and considered taking the plunge. But, no. If she wanted to get in touch clandestinely, she would. Calling now would risk me getting Roland, who would hang up on me. Or most likely not answer.

Frustrated, I decided I didn’t want to stay here anymore. It was weird, especially since I’d wanted to come home so badly earlier. Yet, I felt like I wasn’t welcome in my own house. I showered off the day’s fights—no gentry baths for me—and headed right back to the Otherworld. I almost
never came and went the same day, but suddenly, my kingdom seemed like the only place I had friends at the moment.

They were surprised to see me back so soon. I found Shaya and Rurik playing chess in a formal sitting room, leaning together and laughing as she planned her next move. Both jumped when they saw me.

“Your Majesty,” said Shaya. They’d instantly gone from casual to formal mode.

“Sit, both of you. You should know better.” I sat as well, sinking into a down-filled love seat that I’d inherited from the castle’s previous owner.

Shaya and Rurik returned to their seats, relaxing somewhat. “We didn’t think you’d be back for a while,” said Rurik, ever blunt.

Shaya looked twitchy, like she wanted to get up, despite what I’d said. “Should I have the kitchen start preparing dinner?”

“No, no, don’t bother.” It was common among gentry monarchs for every meal to be a full-fledged banquet, particularly dinner, hosting the full court. With my schedule and the fact that I didn’t even keep a full court—just the essentials—that was not the case around here. My kitchen staff had it easy, and I certainly didn’t want them to get in a sudden panic over a meal they would have normally started on hours ago, had they known I’d be there.

I stared off at the empty fireplace, which had been unused since I’d taken over. Had the Thorn Land shifted into winter, we might have needed it. A kingdom’s seasons bent to its monarch’s will,
and although Tucson was in winter right now, my subconscious apparently thought summer was the proper state.

Shaya and Rurik regarded me patiently, wondering what it was I wanted, if not dinner. I wasn’t sure myself. I fumbled for something to say. “News or messages on the war front?”

“No,” said Rurik. Not surprising. Ranelle had probably only just gotten home. She was likely feasting with the Linden King right now.

I met Shaya’s eyes. “It’s probably dinnertime at Dorian’s, huh? Or close to it.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. There were no clocks in the Otherworld, but she had a good sense of the time. “I would imagine so, Your Majesty.”

“Do you think he’d mind unscheduled visitors?”

“You?” Shaya laughed. “Hardly.”

I glanced between the two of them, feeling a smile creep onto my lips. “What do you say? Should we go crash his party?”

“Party crashing” might not be a colloquialism among the gentry, but it didn’t take Shaya or Rurik long to figure out what I meant. Both sprang to action. I couldn’t travel alone during wartime, so Rurik had to assemble a military escort for us. Shaya left to alert the civilians who’d go with us and make herself ready for a royal visit. Both of them were excited, I could tell. Humans and gentry weren’t so different, in a lot of ways. Once at Dorian’s, Shaya and Rurik would have
few official duties. This was the equivalent of an Otherworldly night on the town.

In my rooms, I found my handmaiden Nia anxiously awaiting me. Gentry magical skills ranged greatly. I controlled weather. Dorian could rip apart the earth. And Nia? Her talent was in beautifying others, in hair and clothing. Like those of my cooks, her skills were often underutilized.

“Let’s get ready,” I told her.

Her face lit up, and she practically ran to the wardrobe. “Which would you like, Your Majesty?” Her hand hovered near a black cocktail dress from the human world, then moved to a gauzy blue sundress. Then, she hesitated altogether and glanced at me questioningly. It wouldn’t have been out of character for me to show up at a state function in the jeans I already wore.

After my earlier loneliness, I was excited to see Dorian—almost desperately so. He seemed like my only connection right now, and I suddenly liked the idea of surprising him. “The peach one,” I said.

Nia nodded, her fingers skimming the dresses. Finding no peach, she frowned and rechecked them. Then, her gaze went to the other half of my wardrobe, where the gentry dresses she and others had had made for me hung. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a peach silk dress she’d probably never thought would see the light of day.

“Your Majesty!” was all she could gasp. It was like Christmas morning for her.

With coppery hair, I had to be careful with what colors I wore, but this was a warm enough shade
of peach that it worked. The fabric was shining and fluid, like some living thing. The dress was one long piece, clinging around the torso and then flaring and falling like water from the waist to the floor. Gold ribbons laced up the back, decorated with aquamarines. Straps, also made from strings of aquamarines, hung loosely off my shoulders around my upper arm, trailing more streams of silk beneath my arm and giving the illusion of sleeves. For all intents and purposes, it was a strapless dress, leaving my arms, shoulders, and a healthy amount of cleavage exposed.

“I think I need a bra,” I said, eyeing the way the thin silk wrapped around my chest.

“But that’s how it’s worn!” said Nia. Gentry, in fashion and other ways, didn’t always share the same taste as humans. Nia knew this, and I could see in her face she was terrified I’d do something
human
to ruin this dream-come-true of finally dressing me properly.

“Fine,” I said. “But keep my hair down.” Hopefully it would give me some coverage. Lack of a haircut had my ends just barely touching my shoulder blades lately.

Nia took this as an acceptable compromise, going over every lock of my hair so that it was smooth and slightly curled at the ends. Aquamarine barrettes (the gentry loved jewels too) were placed strategically throughout my hair, and she forced more jewelry on me in the same color scheme. After a bit of cosmetics, Nia deemed me fit to be a queen. I planned on bringing her to Dorian’s and was about to tell her we
should go when a strange and unexpected thought came to me.

“Nia … can you get my sister ready too?”

“Your … your sister, Your Majesty?” She was equally surprised. “Is she coming?”

I thought about it, wondering the same thing. I never let Jasmine leave the castle and its grounds, for everyone’s safety. Yet, I couldn’t shake the thought of how bored and lonely she seemed. Plus, I’d forgotten her Twinkies.

“Yes,” I decided. “She’s coming. Be fast.” Nia nodded and headed toward my door, off to whatever closet she always produced endless stores of dresses and jewelry from. Jasmine had once been the mistress of this castle’s former king; for all I knew, her wardrobe was still here. “Nia?” I called. The gentry girl paused. “Long sleeves.”

Nia nodded again, catching my meaning. It was no secret among the gentry that the Thorn Queen kept her sister a prisoner. That didn’t mean I wanted her chains flaunted, however. And when my whole entourage met up to leave, I could see that Nia really was magically gifted with beauty. Jasmine—who looked utterly stunned by this unexpected field trip—wore a dress made of pale green velvet. It was floor-length like mine but had long bell sleeves that did a good job of hiding the chains. The dress was more modest than mine too, but I had a feeling Nia hadn’t done it to protect Jasmine’s fifteen-year-old modesty. Most likely, Nia didn’t want the queen’s sister to draw more attention than the queen herself. The minimal jewels on Jasmine proved as much, and
the looks from my own people showed that I was definitely attention-getting. I doubted they’d ever seen me dressed up like a full-fledged gentry woman.

Riding a horse in that dress was a pain in the ass. It wasn’t the first time I’d done so, and I was glad the skirt wasn’t as snug as the top. I was also glad our route was short tonight. The Otherworld folded in upon itself, taking travelers through ways that seemed impossible but which often proved the most direct path. These paths also cut through other kingdoms—often my neighbors’. Knowing this, our party was on high alert as we rode, everyone tense. To my relief, the road didn’t take us through the Rowan Land—as it frequently did. The only transition between my land and the Oak Land was a brief stint in the Willow Land. Not comforting, but safer than enemy territory.

Once Dorian’s castle was in sight, my group’s mood lifted, and the party-crashing spirit returned. His home was exactly what you expected from a castle, multi-turreted and made of heavy dark stones, with stained glass windows. As always, it was autumn in the Oak Land, and although night prevented me from seeing the orange-leaved trees, the smell of harvest and touch of fall chill on my skin reaffirmed for me what season it was. Scattered on the castle grounds, I spotted small clusters of peasants around campfires, watching us curiously. Like me, Dorian had war refugees seeking aid from their monarch. The sight of their faces twisted my stomach, and I forced myself to look away.

Servants took our horses, people scrambling at our unexpected arrival. Guests dropped in all the time for dinner—especially at Dorian’s—but we were VIPs. I walked briskly toward the banquet hall while groveling stewards scurried at my side, promising proper accommodations for my companions and checking on anything else we might need. I came to a halt when I reached the banquet doors. Even I with my bad human etiquette knew I had to be announced first.

A herald swung open the door, revealing light, color, and noise. Dorian had about a hundred people in there tonight, gathered around various tables on chairs and couches. Most were gentry nobility. Some were his soldiers. Others were creatures of the Otherworld, types I fought when they crossed to the human world. As I’d guessed, dinner was already being served, with servants scurrying around and the guests chatting and eating.

That all came to a halt when the herald’s voice rang out: “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Eugenie Markham, Called Odile Dark Swan, Daughter of Tirigan the Storm King, Protector of the Thorn Land, Beloved of the Triple Moon Goddess.”

I would never get used to all those titles. Conversation dropped, and then there was the usual screeching of chair legs as people hastily stood up. Once I would have cringed from this, but I knew what was expected now. I began to stride forward but stopped after two steps. Most of my soldiers had stayed at the doors, and none of the rest of my retinue would be announced since I had no
high-ranking nobility with me. Almost. I glanced at the herald.

“My sister, announce my sister.”

His eyes bugged, and I could guess his confusion. Not only was that kind of a weird request coming from me, it was also hard for him to manage since Jasmine didn’t have any official titles. The guy was fast on his feet, though. That was his job.