THIRTY-FIVE
The Nephele are close,” Rune said. He’d traced Jo to a meadow beneath a star-strewn sky.
With no city lights, the stars appeared so much brighter. After that memory flash during the fight with Nïx, would Jo ever look at them the same way? She was growing convinced the answers to her past resided in the stars.
“Ahead is the covey.” Rune pointed to a dense patch of fog. “They enjoy mating earthbound creatures, so much so they brought their clouds to the ground.”
As a fog bank.
He took her elbow, and they started toward it. Here I go. Into the Lore. She could handle this.
She squinted through the mist, murmuring, “Why do you think Nïx went to Mount Hua?”
“You didn’t read the history?”
She gazed away. “Got distracted.”
“Pilgrims used to seek immortality among the peaks of that region. Maybe there’s a grain of truth to the tales, and something is drawing her in. Maybe she wants to test herself on a deadly climb. It’s best not to contemplate the motives of the mad, or you’ll wind up mad yourself.”
Music and laughter carried through the fog. Like a stray drumbeat, groans rang out.
“Do you truly think she’s insane?”
“The human who brought us that note reeked of fear. She must’ve demonstrated her power to him, outing herself, and for no discernible reason? That alone proves her insanity.”
“It’s that bad for us to demonstrate power in front of humans?” Like crushing a guy’s balls one-handed while chewing gum? In front of all the folks in the neighborhood? Enough to get a supervillain name?
“You’re jesting, right? It’s the one law in the Lore all factions respect. The gods could rain down punishment for any infraction. At the very least, outing oneself to humans is thought to bring horrible luck.”
Hunting always seemed to get her in trouble. So why couldn’t she stop?
“Have you been attracting attention?” he asked. “Besides shoving me through a building?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes I punish humans a little. When I move to a place, I feel like it’s my territory—and like the people within it are mine too. If pimps and drug dealers and gang bangers mess with what’s mine, I hunt them. Hurt them. Disappear them.”
He looked unsurprised. “Vampires are notoriously territorial.”
We are? No wonder she’d been compelled to hunt! “I’m kind of a protector of prostitutes.”
He stiffened beside her. “Is that meant to be funny?”
She blinked at him. “No. I really am.” She’d need to plan a maintenance visit soon. “So why do the gods get mad when we out ourselves?”
“This is the mortals’ world. Though Loreans like to believe it’s theirs as well, it isn’t. They trespassed when they colonized here. Deities look the other way as long as Loreans don’t change the course of human history.”
“Why do beings come here then?” The fog grew increasingly thick, the grass wetter.
Rune placed his warm palm on the small of her back to guide her. Not as good as when they’d held hands, but a promising start. “Gaia is all but a heaven plane,” he said. “Life is very easy here compared to the home dimensions of many species. Immortals gather in certain Lore-rich cities—such as New Orleans. Established communities benefit them further.”
That explained why Jo had seen so many more freaks there. “How many dimensions are there?”
“Some say the number is infinite. Many remain unexplored.”
Infinite. Whoa. How cool would it be to explore new worlds? Maybe with the guy at her side.
“We near the covey.” He pulled up his collar to conceal his bite mark.
“You embarrassed by that?”
He turned to her, his voice going deeper. “Just the opposite. I have a beautiful vampire who can’t keep her fangs out of me.”
That’s fair.
“But I don’t want to reveal what you are. Of all the species nymphs fraternize with, vampires are among the least welcome, have been known to drink a nymph dry. You have clear eyes, and you lack a vampire’s scent, so you shouldn’t have any problem passing for another species. I also don’t want to reveal your immunity to my baneblood, not until I figure out the other half of your hybrid.”
“Got it. I’ll try not to shotgun-drink a nymph while I’m here.”
Giggling females traipsed through the mist nearby, wearing wispy dresses that looked like they’d been fashioned from the fog itself. Silvery fringe jewelry dangled from their ears, with more pieces in their hair.
Jo wore jeans, combat boots, and a ratty Red Flag T-shirt.
The nymphs joined a group of burly demons with curved, shell-colored horns. Those horns were seriously badass. Jo tilted her head. What would they feel like?
She sensed Rune’s gaze on her. She was used to spying at her leisure. Now he was watching her watch others.
Farther along the meadow, they came upon another group. She blinked. Couldn’t be seeing right.
Centaurs were mounting ecstatic nymphs. “How is that even possible?” Centaurs had been in Tortua, but seeing them midmount, or whatever, made her squeeze her legs together—the way guys did when racked.
Rune glanced away. “An immortal body is capable of unbelievable things.”
“I guess you see nymphomaniac orgy scenes like this all the time.” He starred in scenes like this.
“You haven’t? Loreans aren’t shy. And nymphs can be witnessed fucking everywhere in the Lore. Especially in a pocket realm like this.”
“Pocket what?”
He exhaled. “I can’t remember when I last met someone so unacquainted with the Lore. A pocket realm is a dimension that shares the same characteristics of Gaia. Same sun, moon, stars, weather, et cetera.” He cocked his head. “You’ve obviously been sheltered, and you’re only twenty-five. That makes me wonder how many lovers you’ve had.”
She jutted her chin. “Three.”
He laughed. “Three? Yet more evidence you were raised among monks.” He again muttered, “Three,” as if that were the punch line of a joke. “How long has it been?”
“A while.” What would he think if she told him she’d only had sex a handful of times? “How many have you been with?”
“Can’t count that high.”
“That’s the same answer you gave me when I asked how many you’ve killed.”
All his previous good humor disappeared. Casting her a strange look, he said, “You’d be amazed how closely tied those two numbers are.”
No. No, she wouldn’t. Jo knew some of the specifics. She considered confessing to the dreams, but reminded herself that four days ago he’d reached for his knife—because he’d suspected she might be a cosaş.
Probably not best for their burgeoning relationship if he again decided to kill her.
They approached a clearing in the mist, spread over a section of the meadow. The fog floated above, resembling a giant awning. In the center, a fountain flowed with wine. Nymphs congregated there, like super-models at a vino convention.
“Rune!” one squealed.
The rest cried his name and clapped excitedly. When they jumped up and down, their cloud dresses slipped, boobs flying.
They acted like a rock star had entered the premises.
Nymphs surrounded him, jockeying for position, crowding Jo out of the way. With worshipful expressions, they petted his arms and chest. Each promised him secrets. They definitely had his number.
And I thought I could get Rune to fall for me? Stupid Jo. Why on earth—or anywhere else—would a male give up this kind of lifestyle?
“Doves, I’m here to find a demon,” he told them, and they quieted. “One who can trace me to every continent in Gaia.”
“I know of one,” said a nymph with an arrangement of thick blond braids piled atop her head. “What would that information be worth?”
Was the chick angling for Rune to screw her? Would he?
“It’d be worth a small favor,” he said smoothly. “I can find a demon on my own, but I’m asking you ladies in order to save time. Which also means I can’t linger here as I normally would.”
Jo could just imagine him lingering. How would a one-man orgy work? Would it be a nymph free-for-all? Maybe they lined up the way they had in the courtyard. Her fangs sharpened with aggression.
As much as she liked Rune, she would never share a man. So unless he could keep it zipped, she’d have to move on. Which might be a problem if they were linked by destiny and all.
She reminded herself that nothing mattered more than freeing her brother. Soon Thaddeus would be in Jo’s life again. If he was like her, she’d teach him everything she knew about ghosting and telekinesis. They’d learn the rest together. Hope made her giddy. Her future was so freaking bright.
Why should she care if all these women were pawing Rune? Yes, Jo had a crush on him, but crushes could end.
The braid-y nymph said, “I’ll tell you, but only if you vow to the Lore you’ll attend our next Bacchanal.”
“Easy enough,” he said grandly. “I vow to the Lore I’ll be in attendance—unless an emergency crops up.” Tacking on that qualifier.
“You’ll wear traditional attire?” another asked excitedly.
“How could I attend a Bacchanal in anything but?” he said, slanting them all that grin.
One nymph swooned.
Filled with importance, the braid-y nymph said, “I know a storm demon named Deshazior. He used to be a pirate, but now he’s a transporter. He’s been all over Gaia.”
A pirate? Interesting!
“Where will he be, dove?”
“He and his crew like to hang out at a place called Lafitte’s. It’s in New Orleans.”
Rune looked puzzled, so Jo said, “I know where it is.”
Nymphs turned to her and frowned, as if they’d just become aware of her presence.
Braid-y nymph asked, “Who’s she, Rune?” No jealousy in her tone, just mild interest.
“Oh, me?” Jo buffed her black claws. “I’m just the chick who made him nut in his pants. Twice.”