Witchling

I glanced up at Morio, who was leaning against the wall, staring at me. "What? What is it?" I asked, uncomfortably aware of his scrutiny.



He raised one eyebrow, shrugged, and said, "I don't know what you see in him, but you obviously have some connection. If you ever want to talk, just tap on my shoulder."



I had a feeling the word talk was fraught with meaning for the fox demon, but he turned away as Trillian lightly ran down the steps, fully dressed, with his smug smile back in place.



"All right, go on, get some sleep," Trillian said.



Morio glanced around, then looked at me. I pointed to our rarely used parlor. "You can stretch out in there. The sofa's comfortable, and you won't be bothered unless Mr. Profeta decides to make a return visit."



He nodded and withdrew as I stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Come on, Menolly, I thought. Be careful. Even vampires could be taken down by some of the creatures we were facing. Trillian seemed to sense my worry, because he slid an arm around my waist and just held me against him, for once not pushing. I rested my head against his shoulder, trying to breathe. Maybe things were different. Maybe he'd changed. But that would be like a leopard changing its spots, wouldn't it?



Before I could quiet the argument taking place in my head, the phone rang. I snatched it up. "Menolly? Is that you?"



She laughed. "No, it's Santa Claus. Yes, it's me. I'm safe in the car and on the way home. I'll be there in half an hour. You should get some sleep, unless you have other plans, that is. Who's there, by the way? Just Morio?" Aha, she was fishing to find out if I'd slept with the fox demon.



"No," I said slowly. "Delilah's asleep… Morio's resting… and Trillian's here." I let out a long sigh, and she caught it.



"Oh good gods, you slept with the Svartan again!" Exasperation filled her voice, along with a touch of irritability. "Well, tell him that I said if he hurts you, I'll drain him dry of blood and hang him out for the vultures."



I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I don't think that's a good idea—"



"Do it!" When Menolly wanted something, she usually got it. While I was the oldest, when she was feeling her oats, we all ate oatmeal.



"Okay, but if he gets mad, it's your fault." I leaned back to look at Trillian. "Menolly says that if you hurt me, she'll drain you dry and leave you out for the vultures."



A brief flare of anger flashed across his face, then disappeared as he began to laugh. "Give me the phone," he said.



I handed him the receiver.



"My dear, lovely, deadly Menolly, I'll have you know that I plan to treat your sister as honorably as I'd treat any lady of the high Court." Trillian paused as she said something, then laughed again—his voice rich and deep and racing through me from breast to toe. "I'll count on it."



Gods above, I thought as I took the phone back and hung up. I really was in trouble if they were joking together.



Trillian kept watch, occasionally stepping outside to see if he could pick up any unwelcome scents or sounds, while I padded into the kitchen to check on Maggie. She was curled in her box but awake. She reached for me, and I lifted her to my breast, then settled in the rocking chair to doze for a few minutes.



The sound of Menolly's car pulling into the driveway startled me awake. Smoothing my robe, I set Maggie back in her box and put on the teakettle. I'd grown fond of orange spice tea since coming Earthside, and kept seven different brands of it in the cupboard. I dropped four teabags into the teapot and poured the steaming water over them, closing my eyes as the fragrance drifted up to envelop my senses. While the tea steeped, I mixed up a batch of formula for Maggie, setting the bowl inside the box so she could reach it. She would eat two semisolid meals and drink three bowls of formula a day until more teeth came in.



I'd barely settled at the table with my mug of tea when Menolly entered the kitchen, Trillian right behind her. Her eyes slid over me, then back to him, and she shook her head.



"I still think you're nuts," she said. "Trillian, no offense, but you're bad news all the way around. Don't take it personally."



He snorted. "Of course not, my dear. I'll take it for what it's worth—coming from a vampire."



"Enough, both of you." I lifted my cup. "We're facing a long day tomorrow, and I need some more sleep, but first I wanted to fill you in on what we're planning, since you won't be able to come with us, Menolly."



She slid into the chair opposite me and reached for my hand. Her own was cool and bloodless, but she was my sister, and that was enough.



As I gazed into her eyes, I thought about all the late-night talks we'd had when we were young, sometimes giggling and giddy, other times somber and in tears, trying to sort out the taunts thrown our way because of our human heritage. Now she faced far worse. Vampires weren't respected anywhere except in the Subterranean Realms. In Otherworld, lesser vamps were merely tolerated. And Earthside, they were mostly feared.



I squeezed her hand. Vampire or not, I loved her and considered myself lucky to still have her around. The Elwing Clan could have let her die. Perhaps that would have been for the best, but we'd never know. She was here now, and that was all that mattered.



Trillian watched us in silence. After a moment, he leaned forward. "Shall we fill her in?"



I took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened, showing her the blade and the notebook. "We have a skinwalker after us—although I suppose that could be coincidence. And we have somebody prowling around our house who knows about the spirit seals. I don't like the idea of leaving you home while we're looking for Tom Lane."



"Well, I can't very well go with you," she said.



Trillian cleared his throat. "I'll stay and watch over the house and your gargoyle. You've got this Chase person going, and wolf-boy is champing at the bit to help—"



"You'd better quit calling him that," I said, glancing toward the hall. "One of these times Morio's going to take a swipe at you, and even though he looks wiry, my guess is that he's pretty damned strong."



"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," Trillian said with a grin. "Be that as it may, I'll stay here while you and Delilah go with the others."



I let out a long sigh. Trillian was good to his word, if nothing else. His ethics might come into question, and any move he made had to have ulterior motives, but he wouldn't let us down.



"That would make me feel better," I said. "I'll show you how to mix up Maggie's cream, and what to feed her, and you can keep an eye on things."



"Then it's settled." He leaned forward, sniffing at my tea. "I don't see how you can drink that stuff."



"Wait a minute," Menolly broke in. "You mean you're asking this Svartan to babysit me? I don't think so."



"It's either that or we leave Chase here."



She let out a loud sigh but backed off. I debated on whether to give her the scoop about Chase and Delilah but decided to leave it up to our golden-haired sister. Menolly would pick up on it soon enough on her own.



"Okay, I guess that's it." I drained the last of my tea. The knots in my shoulders were beginning to work their way out, and I was ready for more sleep. "Off to bed. Thank the gods the full moon isn't for another couple of days, or we'd be facing one hell of a mess tomorrow. Night, Menolly."



She nodded. "What about Maggie? Will she be safe down here?"



"Trillian's keeping watch the rest of the night. She'll be fine."



As I stretched, Menolly leaned over and cooed a few words in Maggie's ear. Maggie reached out with her long pink tongue and licked Menolly's face, and my sister laughed, without the grating cynicism I'd grown accustomed to since the Elwing Blood Clan changed her. Maybe, just maybe, Maggie and Menolly could help each other cope with the fates that had played into their lives. I headed up to my room.



I'd barely fallen asleep again when an earsplitting screech broke through my dreams, and I shot out of bed. The noise echoed up the stairs. I glanced at the clock. Five a.m. Dawn had broken, though the sun wouldn't be up for an hour or so. I was still in my gorgeous nightgown, so didn't bother to stop for a robe; instead, I just went racing down the steps. I almost collided with Delilah as she turned the bend from the third floor, dressed in her Hello Kitty pajamas.



"What's going on?" she said, scampering down the stairs ahead of me.



"I don't know—" I grasped the railing as something clanged my inner alarm with a piercing shriek. As I doubled over and clung to the newel post, Delilah grabbed my arm to keep me from tumbling down the stairs.



"What happened?" she asked.



I shook my head, clearing away the fog. Warning bells were ringing so loud that I thought I'd go deaf. "Something's broken through the wards and is in the house. I hope to hell it's not Bad Ass Luke!"



Another earsplitting shriek broke the silence as we hit the bottom step and raced down the hall. We entered the living room just in time to see Morio go flying through the air to land against the opposite wall. A large, hairy creature turned his attention away from the yokai-kitsune to hunker down over Trillian, who lay on the floor, still as death.



"The skinwalker," I gasped.



"Die, you bastard!" Morio shouted as he picked himself up. His hair was loose and rippled around his shoulders. His ears had grown longer and tufted, and his nails were gleaming, long, razorlike claws. Eyes shimmering with a golden light, he leapt forward again and sliced through the air, catching the skinwalker across the back, ripping into the flesh. Dark blood oozed from the wound, matting into the wiry hair that covered the creature.



I tore my attention away from Trillian and stretched out my hands. Chance of backfire or not, I had to do something. The clouds outside the window roiled with energy, so I called on the lightning instead of the moonlight. A flash echoed through the room as it answered, and fire raced down my arms, into my hands. I couldn't aim and shoot; I might hit Morio. Instead, I'd have to actually touch the creature.



Delilah raced back into the room, carrying a huge cleaver from the kitchen. She raised the blade and brought it down just as the skinwalker backhanded her, knocking her over the sofa. I heard a loud thud and an "Oh fuck!"



As she pulled herself up using the back of the couch, I took a chance and leapt forward, hands out. The lightning branched from my palms as I made contact against the creature's side, and forks of the white-hot energy shot through him, the smell of singed hair choking the air.



The skinwalker howled and turned on me, catching hold of my wrist with one hairy paw, the other wrapping around my neck.



"Kitsune-bi!" Morio shouted, and an orb of light came racing my way. It missed me and hit the skinwalker's eyes. He shrieked and let go, struggling to cover his face as the brilliant fox lantern blinded him.



As the skinwalker stumbled, I slapped my hands against him, and the lightning that coiled in my body again jumped from my fingers to his skin. Full-force, a bolt of pure power knocked him off his feet, and the creature fell backward onto the floor, where Delilah thrust her cleaver deep into his chest.



I slumped back, breathing hard. "Is he dead?"



Morio scrambled over to check. "Yeah, he's dead. Very much."



"What's going on?" Menolly drifted into the room, looking haggard. "I was almost asleep when I heard a ruckus—well, I see we have a visitor."



I crawled over to Trillian's side. The skinwalker had left a bruise around my neck that I could feel growing darker, and I was pretty sure that both Morio and Delilah were covered with bruises too. As Menolly tended to Delilah, Morio knelt next to me.



"Is he—?" Morio's eyes asked the question his lips would not.



I leaned over my dark beloved, listening for breath. There—faint, but definite. "He's breathing, but he's badly injured. He needs help, now. Delilah! Call Chase, tell him to send an OIA medical team over here, stat. It's an emergency." Forcing myself to remain calm, I took Trillian's hand in mine and held tight. "What did the skinwalker do to him?"



Morio shook his head grimly. "I think he hit him with those claws. Skinwalkers are filled with venom. If they bite or scratch someone, there's a good chance they'll poison them." He searched Trillian's other arm. "Here it is—a long gash. Not much blood, but see how it oozes?"



The wound was shallow but covered with a thin layer of bubbling pus. My stomach lurched as I watched it fester up and trickle across Trillian's beautiful skin.



"Will he die?" I whispered. "Svartans have a natural immunity to so many things. The skinwalker's venom must be terribly potent."



"It is. Think komodo dragon on two legs. Trillian has a chance if help reaches him in time. He can't stay here, though. He'll need care that isn't available Earthside."



Frowning, I nodded. I didn't like the thought, but if he was to survive, he was going to need stronger magic than they could work here.



"You're right, of course. He has to return to Otherworld." And then a faint odor caught my attention. I turned back to the skinwalker and leaned close, still nervous, even though I knew it was dead. "Demon scent. This thing isn't a demon itself, but it's crossed paths with one. I didn't get close enough downtown to smell it, but… Menolly, can you identify the type?"



Menolly knelt by the creature and sniffed, a disgusted look on her face. "Demon, yes. A lesser one. My guess is that Bad Ass Luke had a hand in this. He's probably paying the dregs around Belles-Faire to keep an eye on us. And to come after us. Which means he knows we're OIA."