Panther Prowling Page 2

  Nerissa—Menolly’s wife—carried the cake down from the kitchen. She placed it on one of the large tables. Everybody was here tonight, including Erin, Menolly’s middle-aged “daughter”; Roman, the son of the vampire queen; and Chase, the FBH detective who had become part of our extended family. Even Mistletoe and Feddrah-Dahns had traveled over from Otherworld for the party, though having a unicorn at any function was always problematic.

  “Everybody’s here and we’re good to go.” I motioned to Jenny. “Will you ask Smoky to bring her in?”

  Whatever excuse the dragon had made for keeping our sister out of the way appeared to have worked. Menolly doused the lights, and a moment later, a rustle told us they’d entered the room. But as she flicked the lights on again and we all yelled “Surprise,” we found ourselves shouting and throwing confetti at one very nervous toadsquatter.

  “Ah, hell!” Menolly launched herself forward, but just then Camille and Smoky followed the creature through the door.

  “Stop!” Camille grabbed the arm of the toadsquatter, yanking him out of the way. The squat goblin-like figure let out a shriek and hissed at her. “Shut up, you little weasel.” She swatted his nose as Smoky loomed up behind her, all six-foot-four of him.

  “What the fuck?” Menolly pulled back. “What’s that doing in my bar?”

  A whiff of the toadsquatter’s stench hit me and I gagged. Lovely. Cross a patch of skunk cabbage with a lumberjack who’s gone a week without showering and that’s pretty much what the creature smelled like. My stomach lurched.

  Derrick Means, one of the bartenders and a werebadger, stared at the thing with a horrified look on his face. He leaned over to me and asked, “What the hell is that? It looks like a goblin that’s been squashed and deformed.”

  “Toadsquatter. From Otherworld. A mutant version of a goblin. Goblins use them as slaves, and the toadsquatters hate them as much as we do. The little creeps aren’t blameless, though. They can be nasty tempered, fickle, and they’re all a pack of thieves.” Which begged the question: Why was one of them standing in the bar, and why had Camille protected him?

  Derrick, whose ponytail was black streaked with white, shook his head. “Guess it’s no worse than some of the things we have over here. I bet you have no clue how many strange beasties we have running around the woods.”

  “I’ll bet you’re right.” I grinned at him. Derrick was usually pretty grumpy, but he was fair, honest, and respectful. And that was more than we got from a lot of the Earthside crowd, FBHs or Supes.

  Camille was trying to calm the toadsquatter, who was disturbingly close to tears. And trust me, a crying toadsquatter wasn’t any more appealing than a happy one. “Don’t upset him any more. He has important information for me, or so he says.”

  Menolly paused. “Information?”

  “We think he may know the name of the sorcerer who is tracking Camille.” Smoky glared at the toadsquatter, obviously not thrilled with this turn of events.

  Camille knelt down by the creature. Toadsquatters were about four feet high, and squat. And butt-ugly. “Listen, calm down. I warned you people would react this way, so chill out. I promised you that if your info was worth it, I’d give you a reward, didn’t I?”

  He nodded and, in a halting variant of the common tongue from Otherworld, said, “Yes, yes . . . You promised. You also have to promise they won’t kill me, though.” He jerked his finger toward us. I’d say thumb, but since he had six or seven digits I wasn’t sure which stood in for what finger.

  “I promise.” Camille stared at the rest of us, and we slowly nodded our heads. Nobody seemed too enthusiastic, though. While toadsquatters weren’t inherently evil like their brother race of goblins, they were sneaky and reminiscent of cockroaches. They might not do anything to you, but they were so nasty you just kind of wanted to squash them on principle.

  She straightened up and looked around, her gaze falling on the cake. “Oh, hell—birthday party? For me?”

  “Yeah, but you kind of blew that one out of the water.” Menolly laughed. “Let’s get drinks started, Derrick. Camille, take that . . . thing . . . to my office. I don’t want my customers coming in here and finding him.”

  Camille grabbed the toadsquatter by the hand and started for the back.

  Menolly turned back to us. “Delilah, carry the presents to my office, please. We don’t want them to get stolen. It’s time for me to unlock the doors. Luckily, I ordered a gigantic cake. One big enough to include my patrons. But Jenny, would you move it out of sight till we’re done talking to that creature?”

  And with that flurry of orders, Menolly headed over to unlock the doors. I gathered up the presents, then paused, watching as she inserted the key to open the Wayfarer to the public for the first time in over two months.

  The crowds flooded in, swamping the staff. Once it appeared everything was going off without a hitch, I headed for the back, presents safely in my arms. Menolly motioned that she’d join us in a bit.

  The office had been expanded during renos, and we all managed to fit in, albeit a little snugly. I set the gifts on the desk, and Camille walked over, looking at them. She seemed preoccupied.

  “Anything wrong?” I glanced over at the toadsquatter but he was ignoring us.

  She frowned. “There was someone in the bookstore today who made me uneasy. He was looking for a rare grimoire and was very pushy about it. He acted as though he thought I was hiding a copy from him, when I told him I didn’t have it and didn’t know where I could get one.”

  “What’s his name? Did he have a demonic feel?” The fact that that question was always one of our first considerations now saddened me, but we always had to take it into account, given what we were facing.

  She paused, considering. “No, he didn’t—I think he was FBH, but he did have a lot of magical energy, and there was something off about him. I think . . . he introduced himself as Jay. And he said he’d heard about my store from a friend . . . but that could be anybody.”

  I sighed, leaning against the desk. “Has he been in before?”

  “I don’t think so. But I don’t trust him.”

  “Keep an eye out.” I leaned against the counter. “If I’m upstairs in my office, you can always call me down next time he comes in. And tell Giselle to do the same.”

  A garbled grunt interrupted us. We looked over to see Smoky holding the toadsquatter in place, his hand firmly on the creature’s head. The toadsquatter wasn’t moving, but neither did he look like he wanted to be here and I didn’t blame him. He was in the middle of a group of hostile people who could easily make mincemeat out of him without so much as a blink. His gaze flickered toward the door.

  “Easy, boy. You’re not going anywhere. Not yet. So what’s your name?” Smoky asked.

  Shifty-Eyes thought for a moment, then sighed. “Rataam.”

  “Well, Rataam, give us the information we’re looking for and you get to leave here alive. However, if I discover that you’ve gone back to whoever you’ve been snooping for and ratted us out, I’ll personally track down your family and there will be no more little Rataam babies in the world. Do I make myself clear?” When Smoky played hardball, he didn’t hesitate to break heads.

  The toadsquatter seemed to realize this was no idle threat. He gulped and nodded.

  Smoky let go of his head. “Tell us what you know, then. If it’s worth it, we’ll pay you for your knowledge.”

  Rataam ducked his squat head. He really did look very toad-like, and for a moment I felt sorry for him. It was a scary thing to be surrounded by people who could pull you apart. I’d been there. But then he let out a noise—I didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to—and a vile stench filled the room.

  “Oh, dude, that’s nasty. Do you have to do that?” I blurted out the words before I could stop myself.

  Rataam scowled, but ignored me. Instead, he tur
ned to Camille. “The sorcerer following you is named Iyonah.”

  Iyonah? We’d had a run-in with the woman recently. Or rather, Camille had. But none of us realized she was anything other than a blip on the radar of “potential issues.” That she was following Camille and potentially out to kill her was a step up in the game.

  Camille blanched. “Oh, fuck. I knew there was something about her! But how do you know this? How do you even know about me?”

  “I only know about her because I was paid to find out. I never heard of you before my employer paid me to look into the matter.” Rataam shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

  I blinked. Someone had paid the toadsquatter to snoop into Camille’s life? That alone was unnerving. Apparently, Camille thought so, too, because she knelt beside him, pale and looking worried.

  “And who is your employer?” She took his hand in hers, unleashing her glamour, which immediately seemed to have a calming effect on the creature.

  He let out a long breath. “Promise you won’t tell them I told you?”

  She held up her hand. “On the Moon Mother’s honor.”

  Rataam scuffed his foot on the floor, then shrugged. “Raven Mother. She asked me to find out who was following you, and to warn you.”

  Startled, Camille withdrew her hand and stood up. Raven Mother could be bad news when she wanted to be, but for some reason, she’d decided to help us out. That didn’t mean we could trust her, though. Raven Mother was wily and cunning, and she had so many hidden agendas that our enemies looked like simpletons compared to her.

  Camille had been getting to know more about the Elemental than she had ever wanted to know—she had no choice given the way events had been turning. As a result, Menolly and I’d been privy to a number of late-night conversations. Intrigue seemed to run rampant in the whole Raven Mother–Triple Threat–Moon Mother triangle that was going on.

  “Did Raven Mother tell you why she wanted you to spy on me?” Camille’s eyes flashed—they were a vivid shade of violet, and now silver flecks appeared. No, she wasn’t happy, and her magic was rising.

  Rataam shook his head. “No, but she made it clear it was important. She threatened to destroy my family if I didn’t do what she asked.” He sounded so disheartened that I instantly felt guilty for feeling so uncharitable toward him.

  Smoky and Camille looked at each other, and she slowly nodded. There was no real way of telling if he was lying, but odds were, Raven Mother hadn’t told him what Iyonah wanted. Her motives might be questionable, but she wasn’t stupid by any means.

  Smoky let out a grumpy sigh. “All right, we will pay you well, but only if you vow on your family’s life to keep your mouth shut about everything that’s happened. As long as you keep your bargain, we won’t tell Raven Mother that you told us it was she who hired you.” Smoky nodded to the door. “Come, I’ll take you to a portal, pay you, and you can return to Otherworld immediately.”

  Camille kept her mouth shut until Smoky escorted the creature out. Then she let out a slow whistle. “I should have known Iyonah was up to no good. I think I did, I just didn’t realize she was after me.”

  Irritated that we had to focus on enemies, even on our birthdays, I shook my head and gave her a hug. “Well, we should be able to take care of the matter as long as she remains clueless to the fact that you know about her. We’ll go over there tomorrow.” I pointed to her presents. “Meanwhile, birthday party.”

  “You didn’t hire a stripper, did you?” She stared at me pointedly.

  I blushed, but then swatted her playfully. “No, and I’m not going to turn into a cat and go lunging after the customers tonight either. But can you imagine Smoky walking into the room to find a guy jiggling his junk in your face?”

  Trillian meandered over, laughing. “Oh, I’d pay to see that.” He, Smoky, and Morio had a good-natured rivalry going on. While they were all married to Camille and she loved each of them with a passion, they still sparred at times. But when push came to shove, they had one another’s backs, and together they surrounded her with a ring of protection that sometimes chafed at her.

  Feddrah-Dahns spoke up. For a unicorn, his voice was simultaneously melodic and authoritative. “This Iyonah—I will send Mistletoe home right now to do research on her. Don’t take her on until we’ve dug up everything we can. I don’t want you in any more danger than you already are. If she’s truly a sorcerer, chances are she’s fairly powerful. And powerful sorcerers are danger incarnate.”

  Before Camille could say a word, I interrupted. “She promises. She’ll be good and wait. Now, can we go join the party? This is Menolly’s special night, and it’s also special for Camille. We don’t get many celebrations. Please, let’s enjoy the ones we can.” I pushed Camille toward the door, and for the moment, the issue was shelved.

  * * *

  The party was rocking, the music loud, and the bar crowded.

  The two large center tables were reserved for our party, but most of the booths were full, as were the counter stools. People had packed the joint, showing their support for Menolly.

  In one corner, Marion Vespa—the owner of the Supe-Urban Café—and her husband were ordering drinks. Jonas and his werebear buddies had crowded into a booth and were eating burgers and fries, along with giant steins of beer. At a table near the door, Frank Willows, the leader of the Supe Militia, was holding court with three other werewolves.

  And, of course, Roman, the son of the Vampire Queen, sat in the most luxurious booth, along with several of the higher-ups from the Seattle Vampire Nexus. Menolly was his official consort, and boy, did she walk a tight wire between her wife and Roman. All in all, the bar was crowded. The look on Menolly’s face made me happy. She’d expected people to ostracize her after what happened, but truth was: none of it was her fault. Maybe tonight would drive that through her thick skull.

  As we gathered around the tables, Jenny brought over the cake. Camille winked at her, and the girl, flustered, stuttered out a “Happy Birthday” and immediately left.

  “Hey, I wanted to order—” Camille laughed. “I’m going to have to do something to put Jenny at ease, it seems.” She stood up, looking over at the bar.

  I motioned for her to sit down. “You’re the birthday girl. I’ll get a waitress. What do you want to drink? Do you want anything to eat?”

  “I want a Goblin Blaster and can you order me a grilled cheese and fries? We’ll cut the cake while we’re waiting for the food.” She was eyeing the massive sheet cake like I eyed catnip. Normally Camille didn’t go for sweets but Earthside store-bought birthday cake had proven to be a weakness for her.

  I motioned to a different waitress and gave her Camille’s order, and my own. Grilled cheese sounded good, so I asked for two. As the others ordered their food, I pushed my way up to the bar. Derrick, along with Digger—the assistant bartender, who was a vamp—were mixing drinks as fast as they could.

  Derrick winked at me. “What do you need?”

  “Camille wants a Goblin Blaster. For me? A Kahlúa and cream, please.” I didn’t drink a lot, but when I did, I preferred my booze with something to soften the impact.

  He raised an eyebrow. “She wants a Goblin Blaster? We don’t get much call for those. They’re an acquired taste, that’s for sure.” As he began mixing up the basil liqueur with orange juice and both light and dark rum, the drink took on an earthy, pungent smell. The drink almost glowed green, and I grimaced. I preferred my drinks sweet.

  Derrick added a twist of orange to the glass, then whipped up my Kahlúa and cream, and slid both drinks across the counter. I started to thank him but he had already moved on to his next order.

  I picked up the drinks and carried them back to the table, handing Camille’s to her. She took a long sip and closed her eyes. Something about the basil and orange really appealed to her. Like me, she wasn’t much of a drinker, but ever since Menolly had conc
octed the recipe, Camille had, for the most part, stuck to a standing order.

  Over the past few weeks, Menolly had gotten so irritable without the Wayfarer to distract her that she’d turned her lair into a makeshift bar and had managed to get just about everyone in the house drunk at one point or another, experimenting with new recipes. The upside was, the drink menu at the Wayfarer had increased by at least fifty percent.

  While we waited for the food, Camille cut the cake. The frosting was an inch thick and my taste buds were doing a happy dance on my tongue. Camille’s favorite flavors were strawberry and lemon, so the cake was strawberry with lemon icing. There were chocolate cupcakes for those whose tastes ran to the more traditional, but I wasn’t picky. If it was cake, I’d eat it. And I did. Two pieces of cake and three cupcakes.

  Menolly climbed on the counter and whistled to the bar. “Listen up! Tonight’s not just the reopening of the Wayfarer, but it’s also my sister Camille’s birthday, as you may have surmised. We have a lot of cake here, so feel free to drop by our table for a slice. It’s free till it’s gone.”

  A general round of applause and a chorus of “Happy Birthday”s rang through the bar as I settled in beside Camille and Menolly with a sigh of satisfaction. Despite the toadsquatter, everything had gone off without a hitch.

  A little voice in the back of my head kept whispering, Don’t let down your guard, but I was tired of always being on alert. I decided, what the hell, for once I’d ignore the warning and let down my hair. That was more than a cliché. I actually could let down my hair more than usual, because I’d started growing it back in. I was sporting a chin-length shag. Shade liked it, and while I wasn’t sure I’d ever grow it long again, it was fun for a change.

  I downed the Kahlúa and cream and got a second, then a third round of drinks for Camille and myself. A fourth followed shortly.