Who Needs Enemies

“More the army type.”



No wonder Val had bought the apartment block. He probably sat in his doorway all night, eating popcorn and watching all the beefcake walk by.



I paused in the next doorway. Even by my standards, the laundry was small. “Any trouble recently?”



Val shrugged. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”



I picked up the laundry basket and tipped it upside down. A rainbow of wispy undergarments fell around my feet. “Then there was trouble?”



“Five nights ago. Nothing major, just—” He hesitated. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell your client. I could be in serious trouble with the guild if it gets out.”



I glanced up at him. “What the hell did you do?”



“Promise me, Harri.”



“Okay, okay, I promise.” I frowned at him. Tension rode his shoulders and he was practically wringing his hands. Whatever he’d done, it had to be bad.



He sighed. “Two customers answered her song at the same time. Neither was exactly pleased to see the other.”



“Did you recognize either of them?”



He shrugged. “I’ve seen them both at one time or another, but I couldn’t tell you who they actually were. If they don’t swing my way, I don’t pay them much attention, I’m afraid.”



“I gather they got into a fight.”



“They did.”



“And?” God, it would be easier to get information from a stone.



“And I...er...changed the pair of them.”



My eyebrows shot up. “You changed them?”



Val waved his hands. “It was only a little change, and only very temporary.”



All wizard magic was temporary, with only the strongest of spells lasting, at the most, a week. That’s why many wizards tended to have sidelines in other occupations. In Val’s case, it was interior decoration, but there were also wizards in policing, emergency services, hell, even in medicine. Anywhere where a little temporary magic could make the difference between life and death basically—although interior design could hardly be considered that. But there were plenty of people who wanted to gussy up their house for a special occasion, and who were more than ready to lash out on temporary spells in an effort to impress family and friends.



“What did you change them into?”



“Butterflies. They don’t fight, you see. They’re such gentle creatures.”



I didn’t quite manage to restrain my laugh, and he scowled. “It’s not funny, Harri. If anyone reports me, I could lose my license. Then what would I do?”



“Well, you could always go into the family business.” Val—like most half-breeds—could sing, though few of us got the added bonus of being able to shape-shift.



Although, to be honest, there weren’t that many half-breeds around. Sirens tended to be very careful about reproducing with clients, and it generally only happened when there was a long term relationship involved.



Val picked up a bar of soap and threw it at me. I ducked. It sailed over my head and hit the front of the old the washing machine with enough force to dent it.



“What happened after you changed them?”



“Oh, they saw the error of their ways and left.”



Scared shitless, not doubt. But it was odd that neither of the two men had reported Val’s breach of etiquette. The guild really did have strict rules when it came to altering human forms, and the first and foremost of those rules was that it had to be consensual. Val would lose his license if word got out.



I bent and carefully sorted through Mona’s undergarments. “How long would the spell have lasted?”



“Half an hour, max.”



As I picked up several flimsy body suits and dumped them back into the basket, a weird sense of déjà vu hit. Suddenly I was ten years old again, sorting through the mountain of washing while my brother chatted inanely from the laundry doorway. “And they didn’t come back?”



“Not that night.”



I paused and looked up at him. “But they did come back?”



He hesitated. “Someone did, but I can’t be entirely sure it was either of them. All I heard was the shouting, but he left before I could do anything.”



“Did you notice what type of car, by any chance?”



Val frowned. “Why would I? He left. I didn’t peek outside to watch him walk away. Not my style.”



But he would have, had the visitor been his type. I went back to sorting through the washing. “Did you see Mona at all that day?”



“No, nor have I seen her since. But as I said, that’s not unusual.”



I tossed more garments into the basket. One thing was sure, Mona had a liking for designer brands. “These two men you saw—were they both human?”



“One human, one elf.”



Tension slithered through me. God, if Lyle hadn’t been entirely honest with me, he was going to cop an earful. “Young or old?”



“Young, both of them. Probably no more than late thirties, early forties.”



Which put my uncle out of the picture. I relaxed a little. “Would you be able to work up a sketch of the two men?”



“I could, but it’ll cost you.”



“Val, this is serious-”



“So is family.” He crossed his arms, his expression determined. “A fact you seemed to have forgotten lately. I intend to remedy that.”



“Val, you and I walk in very different-”



“I don’t care. You’re my goddamn sister, and I won’t have you being such a stranger.”



I sighed. When he used that tone of voice, there was no dissuading him—even if we both knew it could only end in tears. Hell, the last time we’d tried the whole happy family thing, he ended up leaving the state and declaring he never wanted to see me again—a fact he’d obviously forgotten. I loved my brother to death, but it was a sad truth that we just rubbed each other the wrong way. Sometimes, less was definitely more.



“What do you want?”



“A dinner party. At your place. Your friends and mine.” He hesitated, an almost contented smile touching his lips. “And don’t try that I-can’t-cook crap. I may be a bit scatter-brained at times, but I can remember who did most of the cooking when we were both young.”



Someone had to. Mom often forgot she had offspring. How we’d actually survived babyhood I had no idea. I tossed another handful of silk into the basket.



“Just one dinner party?”



“To start with, yes. We can see where things go from there.”



Things would no doubt go downhill from there, but I guess I had no choice. Besides, I did miss Val. On occasion. When I was in a weird mood.



“Okay, deal,” I muttered. Then I frowned and flicked aside a fluffy white thong. Sitting nestled in the bosom of a purple body-suit was a little black book.



“Excellent.” Satisfaction practically oozed from his pores. Emotional restraint and Val were not often companions. After a pause, he added, “What’s wrong?”



“It seems Mona was hiding a little black book.” I bent and picked it up.



Val sucked in a breath. “But that’s considered a huge no-no in siren culture.”



“Maybe, but that hasn’t stopped her.” I leafed through it, and discovered it didn’t actually contain phone numbers and addresses, but rather memory cards. Each one was taped to a page, with a name carefully written in siren hieroglyphics underneath.



Mona had been taking photos and, given the fact that all the names underneath were male, it suggested that she’d been cataloguing her clients—an action far worse than jotting down contact details ever could be.



And if one of her clients had become aware of her penchant for collecting their images, what would they do? Especially if that person had been a government official?



Quite possibly, murder.



What I had in my hands was a ticking time bomb.



“What are you going to do?” Val asked.



“I don’t know yet.” I gave the rest of the underclothing a shake to ensure there was nothing else, then scooped them all back into the basket and put it back on top of the washer.



Val’s expression was concerned. “If Mona’s missing because of that book, why didn’t they take it with them?”



“Maybe they simply couldn’t find it without tearing the place apart. Maybe that’s why they’ve snatched her—they want a little privacy in which to make her talk.”



Val shuddered. “God, I hope not. She really is a sweet woman.”



Most sirens were. “I need that sketch as soon as you can get it to me.”



“I’ll get onto it right away.” He stepped to one side, giving me room to pass.



“Thanks.” I hesitated, then touched his arm lightly. “Be careful, little brother. Those two men might not be involved in Mona’s disappearance, but if they are, and if they come back, they’ll be ready for your tricks.”



He nodded, expression sober. “Trust me, if I spot them, I’ll run.”



“Good.”



He trailed after me as I headed for the door. “Do you really think something has happened to her?”



“Honestly? I don’t know. But my client is pretty certain something has and, you have to admit, the existence of this book makes it seem more likely.” I glanced over my shoulder as I stepped out into the hall. “Please be careful.”



His smile was sudden and warm. “Anyone would think you actually cared.”



“Of course I care,” I said, amusement bubbling though me. “After all, I haven’t enough money to buy myself decent coffee, let alone a funeral for you.”



He snorted softly. “You, Harriet Phillecky, are a lost cause.”



“Totally,” I agreed cheerfully, and waved goodbye as I headed down the stairs.



Fine rain had begun to fall outside, dusting the rubbish-lined street with silver. Overhead, seagulls surfed the breeze, looking for the next scrap to squabble over. But as I watched them wheel around, it suddenly struck me that there were an awful lot of birds up there. Usually you didn’t get a flock that size unless something big had washed up on the beach.