“Keep it together,” Chrysabelle whispered.

Fi nodded.

Livie turned around. “Are you two coming in or what? I’m not trying to share my business with the neighborhood.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Fi grabbed Chrysabelle’s hand and stepped inside, dragging her along.

Livie didn’t stop moving, so they followed. She swung a set of French doors open and went into the dining room. “I was just about to sit down to brunch. Have y’all eaten?”

“No, but—”

A hearty male laugh interrupted her. “Don’t you know better than to turn down Southern hospitality?” Augustine sauntered into the room with the same devilish charm and air of nonchalance as he’d had during their last visit. His open shirt trailed behind him as he finished buttoning his jeans. He helped Livie into a chair, then kissed her on the cheek. “Morning, my love.”

“It’s nearly lunch, you lazy thing.” Smiling, she reached up to pat the side of his head and ended up tousling his hair. That’s when Chrysabelle noticed the stump of a horn.

Augustine caught her staring. “I grind them down.”

“I wasn’t…” Heat burned her cheeks.

He smirked. “Not all of us feel the need to be so blatantly fae all the time.”

She nodded and paid closer attention to the way the silverware had been laid out. His horns, or what was left of them, seemed smaller than Mortalis’s, but besides that and Augustine’s skin being a paler shade of gray, the two fae were almost twins.

A maid, dressed in a black-and-white uniform, came through a swinging side door. She set a vase of flowers on the center of the table. “Brunch will be right up. Beautiful flowers you got from the garden today, Ms. Livie.”

“Thank you, Lally.” Livie pointed the head of her cane at Chrysabelle and Fi. “As you can see, we’ve added a few to our party.”

“We’re really not here to eat,” Chrysabelle said.

“Speak for yourself,” Fi said. “When the one and only Olivia Goodwin invites me for brunch, I plan on eating.” She beamed at Olivia.

Olivia laughed. “I like this one. What’s your name, cher?”

“Fiona. But all my friends call me Fi. You can call me that too if you want.”

Olivia reached one spotted hand across the table. “Give me your hand, Fi. If you don’t mind. I like to read my guests.”

Augustine laughed from his chair beside her. “Watch out, she’s about to tell your life story.”

Fi hesitated, sucking in her bottom lip. “Then I should probably tell you I’m a ghost.”

Olivia drew her hand back slightly, her expression a little incredulous. “A ghost? Darling, you’re as solid as the day is long.”

Fi picked up her fork and held it flat on her open palm. A second later, the fork fell through Fi’s de-corporealized hand and clattered to the table. Sunlight from the transom windows filtered through Fi’s transparent figure. “I go both ways.”

Augustine whispered something in faeish.

“Well, now, that is the singular best parlor trick I’ve ever seen.” Olivia smiled and lifted her glass in toast. “Here’s to the most interesting brunch I’ve had in a long time.”

Lally returned, setting several steaming dishes of food on the table, then went around filling coffee cups and juice glasses. While Augustine helped serve Olivia, she looked to Chrysabelle. “As wonderful as it is to see you, I’m sure you haven’t just come for a visit.” Her amber gaze took on an odd clarity and she dipped her head toward Chrysabelle. “Does your trip here have anything to do with that baby in your belly?”

Chapter Twenty

Creek hauled Mal through the corridors of the freighter, finally dumping him in a section of one that was completely free of sunlight. It would have to do. If he tried to find Mal’s actual room, chances were he’d get lost in the ship and end up stuck here until Mal came to and that had bad news written all over it. As it was, Mal was going to be highly irate at being shot and drugged. Common sense said the best thing to do was get scarce.

He worked his way out of the ship, but a few yards from the door he’d come in, he heard the sounds of someone else on deck. He inhaled, looking for a scent, but found nothing. He crept forward, wishing he knew the freighter better so he could find another way out.

The door was open a crack, so Creek peered through it. A vampire he didn’t recognize was leaving a container right outside the door. If not for the man’s noble facial structure, Creek wouldn’t have known he was looking at a vampire. It was like the man wasn’t there at all, like he created a dead spot in Creek’s senses.

Paole. There was no other explanation. Which meant this could be the vampire who’d turned the mayor. Creek wished his crossbow wasn’t collapsed. Snapping it open would make too much noise. Instead, he reached for his halm and jumped through the door, pushing it open at the same time that he whipped his halm out to full length.

He stopped just as the tip of the halm hit the vampire’s chest. “Move and I’ll run you through the heart.”

The vampire froze. “Who are you?”

“I could ask you that same question.” Creek nudged the container with his foot. “What’s this?”

The vampire straightened as best he could. “A name, first.”

“Creek. You?”

“Luciano.”