Twenty-four hours.

Twenty. Four. Hours.

Twen. Ty. Four. Hours.

That’s how long my unhappy ass had to stay in Sorsha’s bed and it drove me crazy. Or rather, crazier. It depended on who was asked when it came to my mental state.

Since I had five—yes, five—fathers and my mother was Satan’s sister… my “normal” was a leetle bit different than others.

I received several more emergency calls from Mayor Boyd throughout the day, each one more frantic than the last. He insisted I do something about the attacks across the city. As I’d suspected, it hadn’t been an isolated incident.

Remember? Not lucky.

I assured him I had people on it. Specifically the local werewolf pack. Okay, I’d called Papa Al—the High Wolf of North America—and he’d told the werewolf pack to help. I had a bit of a history with the alpha, but more than eighty years had passed and the hatefire between us still hadn’t cooled.

I’m immortal, and I’m also a bitch who knows how to hold a grudge.

So, the pack patrolled the city, hunting for undead monsters, but Boyd wasn’t too accepting of my reassurances.

“Have you located the source yet?” It was the same question he’d asked during the previous six conversations that day.

“No,” I fought for a calm that was a fuck of a long way out of reach. “We’re looking into it.”

“People are dying out there, Caith.”

Too bad he wasn’t one of them.

“I’m aware,” I snapped. Sorsha had the TV on in my room and I’d been watching the news all day. So far, Boyd had the police blaming the deaths on animal attacks. I’d never been so happy that an enemy had claws before.

Boyd had also worked hard to keep his people in control of the investigations so no ignorant human got near the bodies. The less people knew about tweens, demons, and angels, the better. Plus, he was a politician. He was all about cover-ups and hiding dirty laundry. Or undead laundry in this case. Whatever.

“Just do something about this,” the mayor whined. I generally had no problem with humans, but Boyd should die simply because his voice annoyed me. “I’m at the end of my rope. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the situation under my control. Do your job.”

My wolf snarled and the darkness that came from my mother swirled deep within my chest. I’d show him a job.

I breathed deeply and let it out slowly. I couldn’t get rid of the mayor. Yet. “Maybe I’d do a better job handling this situation if you weren’t bothering me with constant phone calls.”

“Fine,” he snapped. I wanted to snap his neck. See? No patience. “Get to work.”

He hung up and I let out an irritated sigh. It wasn’t as though I enjoyed being stuck in a bed. I wanted to investigate the situation myself, but every time I tried to stand I was overcome by vertigo and nausea. When Sorsha found me crawling across the floor toward the bathroom, I’d gotten a stern talking-to and a bedpan.

A bedpan. Gross.

My phone rang. Again. I closed my eyes and jabbed the screen to answer. I brought it to my ear and snarled. “What?”

“Caith?” That deep murmur calmed me. Like dark chocolate with a hint of sin that reverberated in my soul. One syllable—one hint of his voice—and my wolf settled in an instant. My anger bled away and a blanket of calm settled over my body.

That was how he affected me. Wholly. Completely.

“Sam,” I sighed and relaxed further.

“I just heard about what’s going on in Orlando. Are you okay?”

That was my Sam—Samkiel, Angel of Destruction, Purifier of Souls and my mate. Well, my sort of mate. That whole mating process hadn’t quite gone according to plan. Yet. But that didn’t make my wolf crave him any less.

Whether we were fully tied or not, his first concern was always for my safety. Sometimes I found it sweet. Other times it irritated the hell out of me. I wasn’t used to someone trying to protect me and sometimes I wanted to tell Sam that I could take care of my fucking self.

Besides, I was over six hundred years old. I was pretty sure I had the whole “staying alive” thing handled.

“I’m fine.” I wasn’t even mad at him. Mainly because my anger and frustration were directed at Sorsha and her staff. Even I only had so much rage to go around.

“The news was unclear, but I got the impression that it’s more than animal attacks. What’s going on?”

“Ghouls, but not just ghouls. It’s a bit weirder than that.” I explained everything we knew, but I skipped over the part about my magically tainted wound. If I told Sam about that, he’d rush to my side and that couldn’t happen. Not because I didn’t want my mate, but he was on the job.

When we’d met, he’d been a half-fallen gel on his way down a dark path. A dark path that had fully taken him when he’d broken one of the big guy’s major rules. Thou shalt not kill.

It all seemed so unfairly black and white. I mean, what about “thou shalt not kill unless the guy deserves it”?

Because Sam had broken that one to help me save Bryony—my sweet, baby, Brownie boy. Sam had fallen from grace for Bry—for me.

Now he was working to regain his place with On High, earning his redemption little by little. If things kept going the way they were, he might end up with a ticket home.

I wanted that for him and yet didn’t, because if he did get that invitation back to Paradise, I couldn’t follow him. On High wouldn’t exactly open their gates for Satan’s niece. I also knew Sam didn’t want to leave me behind, and it bugged the shit out of me that it was me that was holding him here.

He seemed more than willing to continue dancing the line between On High and the tween for my sake.

I wasn’t comfortable with the price he had to pay to be with me, but I also wasn’t strong enough to send him away.

Which was why I wasn’t about to let him walk out on his current mission and ruin his chances of earning a clean slate to come to Orlando and help me.

“Do you need help? I can—“

I shook my head emphatically. “No,” I cut him off before he could say what I knew was on his mind. I wasn’t clear on the details of his mission—something about protecting people and determining if they deserved absolution—but whatever his task, it was his job. Orlando was mine.

“I’ll be fine.” I assured him. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Your job is important. I got this.”

“Are you sure?”

No. Of course, I’m Satan’s niece. Lying is what I do.

“I’m sure. You do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

The words tasted bitter on my tongue, the lie clouding my taste buds. I missed him more than I could have ever imagined but I refused to be selfish no matter how much I wanted to call him home.

“All right,” he didn’t sound convinced. “If you’re sure.”

Doubt lingered in his tone, but I knew my Sam. He’d stick his nose where it didn’t belong if he thought he was doing the right thing, but he wouldn’t push if I was insistent. Not unless he believed I was in serious danger.

Which was another reason not to tell him about my wound, or that it had turned into my personal night light.

“I’m sure.” I assured him again. “Go. Be the good guy. I’ll keep you up to date on things down here. Promise.” –ish.

We said our farewells and as I ended the call I turned my attention back to the TV. Another body, this time outside one of the hotels that bordered the theme parks. Ugh. Boyd would have his panties in an even bigger bunch about this death. Anything that might deter tourists would have a serious impact on the local economy, and that was almost more important than the lives being lost.

Sorsha entered a few minutes later, mixing a sweet-scented poultice in a small bowl. I pushed myself upright and tried to peer inside. One of the other remedies she had given me in the past had included crushed bugs and the bones of… something. I hadn’t wanted to know, but I wasn’t keen about a repeat.

“You find one that works?”

“It’s not a cure,” she lowered herself to the bed beside me, “but it should alleviate your symptoms for a while.”

“Does that mean I get to go home?” I’d pray to On High if it got her to say yes.

“We’ll see.”

I grunted and turned on my side so she could get to the wound. She wiped away the dried remains of the last poultice. I glanced at the wound while she worked. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore and the cut appeared to be nearly closed. Unfortunately, the sickly blue light remained. Ick.

She smeared the new mixture across the wound and a spear of cold spread through my body. It crept into every inch of me and I tensed while I waited to see how the different parts of my soul would react.

Five fathers, remember? Mom had some sort of magical something or other (not a gang bang even though that’s the obvious explanation) which meant I had five Papa’s. It was the only way she could counter all the evil inherent in being Satan’s sister.

Other than Papa Letholdus and Papa Al, there was Papa Percy the pixie king, Papa Finn the unicorn and Papa Eron who was Father Earth. (Papa Eron was all about fertilizing the world.)

I breathed a sigh of relief when my body simply absorbed the mystical cold, and soon my wound turned numb.

Sorsha covered the wound with another bandage of woven leaves. “If this works, you’ll be able to go home, but you’ll need to reapply this poultice three times a day. I’ll also give you a potion you need to drink with each meal. It should help cleanse your blood and aura.”

Should.

“Awesome.” I already felt better, and I was more than ready to get the hell out of this bed.

An hour later Sorsha checked me over again. I managed to stand without falling over and while I remained weak and woozy, it wasn’t enough for her to stop me from leaving. A quick call to Jezze had the witch on the way and I was glad to finally be heading home.

“Call me if your symptoms worsen.” Sorsha glared.

“Will do.” I might be a stubborn bitch, but I wasn’t dumb enough to ignore this.

Jezze drove me home and we discussed the increase in deaths around the city. Her locator spells had helped to uncover some pockets of the undead, which the wolf pack had eliminated, but there were some drawbacks to her abilities.

“My spell has a limited range.” Jezze’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t cover the whole city at once, and it seems like the problem is spreading faster than I can track. I don’t know what to do, Caith. I feel like I’m swatting flies without finding the eggs. There’s gonna be more buzzing around tomorrow if we don’t find the source.”

“Any leads on the source?” Even if I wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, I could still bust out my bat and smash some magic-wielding heads. I’d been racking my brain for the past day, but I hadn’t exactly been lucid the whole time and I still hadn’t come up with any possible leads.

“Nothing. Whoever it is, they’re playing it smart. They’ll stay out of sight and let their undead minions do the heavy lifting.”

“What’s the end game?” I rubbed my chin. “I mean, are the ghouls sucking out the manna to send it to the Big Bad? Like through some sort of psychic link or something? Or is it all just for shits and giggles to cause some trouble in the tween?”

“The link is a good possibility. Which sucks, because even if we kill every ghoul we find, whoever is controlling them will keep getting stronger off the stolen energy. Which means…”

I mentally groaned. “By the time we find them, they’ll already be pumped on all the juice.”

Fuck, I wanted to end this quickly. Not just to save lives. I wanted to stop this asshole before he became too powerful to defeat.

When we got home, I found Bry laying in the middle of the living room watching cartoons while Esmeralda sat nearby, working on a Sudoku puzzle. Jezze had given her the book in an attempt to make friends with the ice queen. I wasn’t sure how that whole thing was going, but Esmeralda hadn’t burned the book so it couldn’t be all bad.

“Mom!” Bry’s shout came as he scrambled from the floor and ran to me. He threw his arms around my legs and hugged me tightly. “Are you okay? Jezze said you’re sick.”

I crouched. “I’m doing lots better now.” I brushed the hair from his eyes. I needed to get the kid a haircut. Another thing for my to-do list.

1. Kill ghouls.

2. Kill ghoul creator.

3. Get Bry a haircut.

Maybe I should do the easy stuff first and start with the haircut.

“Sorsha took really good care of me.”

He frowned, his too-knowing gaze searching my own. He was a bright kid, dammit. I had no doubt he knew there was more going on than I revealed. I hated keeping things from him, but the kid had been through enough. I didn’t want him worrying I was going to die on him. He didn’t need that kind of stress.

“So you’re still coming to my play tomorrow?”

My eyebrows rose and I fought to suppress the surprise and guilt that flooded me. With all the bullshit swirling around me, I’d forgotten about Bryony’s school play. I tousled my kid’s hair and put what I hoped was a reassuring smile on my face. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good.” He hugged me again. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead before Esmeralda shooed him away. It was bath time and he’d soon be carted off to bed.

I pushed myself to my feet, bracing myself on the wall as I waited for my lingering exhaustion to subside. Thank Hell for nannies. I couldn’t handle wrangling the rambunctious tyke tonight.

While Esmeralda corralled Bry, I trudged up the stairs toward my own bedroom. I stripped and padded toward the bed, clutching one of the bottles Sorsha had given me. It was the size of one of those energy drink shots found at convenience store cash registers, and it amazed me that something so small could pack such a big healing punch, but it worked. I swallowed it down in one quick gulp, coughing as the thick liquid slithered down my throat with that familiar burn.

The taste and scent triggered memories from my youth. Herbs always did that—dragged me back to hundreds of years ago. The first time I’d gone out on my own to wander the European countryside. I’d spent the summer running with another wolf named Keller. He’d been an apprentice healer at the time.

He’d begun his training in search for a cure to his lycanthropy. Thanks to Papa Al, I was a born wolf, but Keller had been human. Since then he’d become a powerful healer and the last I heard, he’d given up on curing his lycanthropy. From what I remembered, he had settled in the Louisiana bayou near New Orleans, and was studying voodoo magic with the locals in search of non-traditional healing methods.

He’d always been an odd duck—er—werewolf.

The lingering flavor of those herbs kept my mind returning to Keller. It had been a while since I’d seen him. We’d lost touch for centuries only to bump into each other ten years ago. It had been… awkward. But if Sorsha’s magic didn’t do the trick, maybe he could help. He’d always loved a challenge.

But that meant assuming he was willing to try. I’d sort of… broken his heart.