Otherworld Tales Volume 1 Read online

  “My guess is that she’ll change back when she’s ready. Or the spell wears off. And it will wear off—that much I know. I just…don’t know when.”

  Shade stared at her, his mouth open. “How long could it take?”

  Camille shrugged, giving Delilah another kiss on the head. “The longest one of my backfires took to wear off—the time I made my clothes invisible—a week.” Before Shade could say another word, she shoved Delilah in his arms. “We’d better get going. Don’t worry—I’m sure it will wear off before the weekend’s over. Just watch her closely and keep her out of trouble.”

  And with that, Camille darted out the door, followed by Menolly, leaving Shade alone holding his fiancée by the collar.

  SHADE STARED AT the door as it slammed shut behind them. What the hell? He glanced down at Delilah, who twisted in his arms, trying to get free. The next moment, she playfully sank her claws into him and, startled, he let go. As she landed on the floor, she darted off into the laundry room.

  “Delilah! Delilah, you come back here.” Shade darted after her, then forced himself to stop. It wasn’t like she hadn’t run around in cat form enough at other times. And chances were, if he chased her, she’d stress out and that would mean it would take longer for her to transform back.

  He decided to fix himself a sandwich while he waited. As he pulled out the turkey breast and bread, however, he heard a crash. “Hell, what now? They didn’t forget to take Maggie with them, did they?” He raced toward the noise, following it to Hanna’s room. At first he thought maybe he was right, but then he saw the playpen there, tipped over, and Delilah was struggling to drag one of the toys out of it. She loved Maggie’s soft cloth balls the gargoyle played with, and apparently, she’d been determined to get one. Apparently, she’d miscalculated her jump, as well.

  Shade righted the playpen, tossing of the balls into the hallway for Delilah to chase. As his girlfriend streaked out of the room, he muttered, “Damned cat,” under his breath and finished tidying up the mess she’d made. Another minute, and he heard another crash from the living room. “Delilah! What the hell are you getting into now?”

  As Shade made a beeline for the noise, he thought of Camille. I hope she falls in a patch of poison ivy. But the thought slipped away as yet another loud thud caught his attention.

  TWO HOURS LATER, he had cleaned up the harvest decorations twice, swept up a broken vase, cleaned up a hairball off the sofa, and had wrestled the turkey breast away from a very determined feline. Finally, he gave up and opened the back door as Delilah howled to go outside.

  “Fine, go. Play. Don’t get yourself in any trouble.” As she bounded out to the back porch and down the steps, he let out a disgruntled sigh. “So much for a romantic evening in front of the fire. Damn it, this is all Camille’s fault.” But inside, he knew it wasn’t. It was as much Delilah’s as her sisters. And if Delilah hadn’t been torn about wanting to go up to the barrow with all of them—if he’d given in and gone with them, this wouldn’t have happened and they might be taking an nice evening stroll together through the woods.

  Turning back to the kitchen, he opened a can of cat food and put it down, then dashed up stairs to sift the litter box. They were in this situation together, so he’d do what he could and maybe they could salvage part of the weekend. It was still only Friday night.

  A thought occurred to him, and he went out back, standing in the rain as he called for Delilah to come in. Luckily, she came racing up after a few minutes, looking wild eyed but happy. He managed to scoop her up and carry her inside. Her heart was thudding from the run, but she reached up and excitedly licked his nose, purring, and Shade couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Come on, Minx. Time for Jerry Springer and Cheetos.” He knew the way to her heart. As he grabbed the bag of snacks off the counter and carried her into the living room where the TV was tuned into the Talk Show Channel, he hoped this would be enough to coax her back to her regular form. He settled down, trying not to grimace as the crowd began to shout, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” and Delilah curled up beside him. He held out a Cheeto and she sniffed it, then bit into it, smearing her fur with the bright orange powder. It was brighter than her fur, but at least it wasn’t on the few parts of her that were pale—almost white.

  “You love this show, right Kitten? I don’t see what’s so hot about Springer, but hey, whatever floats your boat. Or squeaks your mouse, as the case may be.”

  She sprawled out, draping over his lap, and he softly stroked her fur, smiling gently as she purred loud enough to rival a motorboat. But, by the end of the show, she was still in cat form. Shade let out a sigh and glanced at the clock. It was only eleven, but maybe, a good night’s sleep would do the trick, and he sure needed one.

  “To bed, pumpkin?”

  She purped, gazing up at him with wide emerald eyes, as he scooped her up and, making certain the house was locked, headed upstairs with her draped over his shoulder. As he settled down in bed, missing her by his side—missing her soft skin beneath his fingers, Delilah slowly padded across the covers. She crawled on his side, curled up, and promptly fell asleep.

  AROUND 4:00 AM, Shade woke up. Something was wrong. Delilah wasn’t in bed—in either form—and he had the sense that something was off. He slipped out from beneath the covers and put on his slippers, then pulled on his robe and tied it shut. As he reached for the light, wary and trying to listen for whatever might be setting off his internal alarm, a yowl split the silence, followed by another.

  Delilah! And she sounded in pain.

  Shade turned on the light, whirling to see where the cries were coming from. But then, he realized, they were echoing up the stairs. He headed toward the door on the run, trying to pinpoint where her hisses and screams were coming from.

  “Delilah! Where are you? Delilah!”

  Thudding down the steps, he realized that she was in the kitchen. Fuck, what had happened? Had she hurt herself? He raced into the room, slamming his hand against the light switch. As the light flared through the room, he saw Delilah, facing what looked like a mottled gray gremlin. It had wings, very bat-like, and looked a little like Maggie, except for the tiny horns on its head, and the jutting horn on its snout.

  “Delilah! Get away from there—those creatures can—” Before he could catch her, she gave one final swipe at the gremlin and it swiped back at her, its claws raking her side. She let out another ear piercing shriek as faint lines of red began to dapple her fur.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Shade leapt forward, grappling the creature. The gremlin tried to bite him but he squeezed its throat—hard—and cleanly snapped its neck. As he dropped it, whirling to Delilah, she was huddled down, hissing and yowling. The cuts were bleeding—not swiftly, but it looked painful. Shade knew that gremlins didn’t carry any venom or toxin, but he also knew that the claws were extremely sharp and he had to get Delilah to a doctor right away.

  Not sure what to do first, he finally settled for grabbing her cell phone out of her pack where she’d left it, and punched in the number for the FH-CSI. Within moments, Yugi—the second in command—came on line. “Give me the medic unit, quick. This is Shade.”

  Yugi transferred him and, another moment and Mallen came on line. “I need your help. Delilah’s been hurt.”

  “What happened?”

  “A gremlin injured her.” Shade was frantic now, trying to keep his attention on Delilah while he talked to the healer.

  The elf cleared his throat. “That shouldn’t be too bad—bring her in.”

  “She’s in cat form and it looks very painful.”

  “Cat form?” Another beat, and then Mallen let out a sigh. “Can you catch her? I’m dealing with several emergencies tonight, and can’t get away that easily. Or you can take her to a vet—there has to be an all night clinic nearby.”

  “A vet. You want me to take Delilah to the vet?” Shade frowned.

  Delilah perked up at the word. Her eyes narrowed and sh
e glanced around, as if ready to bolt.

  “Yes, there’s an all night emergency clinic just half a mile from you—you can make it there a lot quicker than you can get here, and the wait probably won’t be as long. We’re fending with the aftermath of a car wreck tonight and we have four wounded Fae, two critically injured Weres and one very pissed off vampire.” Mallen sounded overwhelmed. “If she’s not in life-threatening danger, it would be very helpful if you could just…take her to the vet.”

  Shade mumbled an “Okay,” and punched the END TALK button. There was a cat carrier in the laundry room—Iris had used it often enough to corral Delilah when she was causing havoc. But Shade had his doubts whether Delilah had ever been to a veterinarian’s office or not. Be that as it may, it was obvious she knew what the word meant.

  “Delilah, honey, you’re hurt. I need to get you to a doctor.” He slowly moved toward her. She hissed and pulled away, baring her teeth. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Come on, baby. Just hold still.”

  As he lunged forward, she sprang off the counter, still meowing, and raced out of the room, though not nearly as swiftly as she’d been running before. A trail of little droplets of blood followed her. Swearing, Shade softly followed her. He didn’t want to wind her up—she could hurt herself far worse that way. But he had to catch her.

  Another go round and she headed upstairs. He shifted through the Ionyc Sea to the top of the steps, but she was quick and she darted past him before he could scoop her up. She headed into the bedroom, and he followed. The next thing he knew, she had crawled under the bed.

  “Delilah, come out of there.” Shade glanced around, then closed the door. At least this way, she couldn’t get out of the room. He closed the closet door, too, but left the door to the bathroom open. If she ran in there, she’d be easier to corner.

  Dropping to his hands and knees, he leaned down and peeked under the bed. She was hunched in the center—and with a king-sized bed, that meant he couldn’t reach her. He might be tall but his arms weren’t that long. Neither could he fit beneath the bed.

  They eyed each other for a while. Delilah let out a faint mew and it tore his heart that she was hurt and frightened to let him help. He knew that, in her state, she was probably thinking more with her cat’s self, than her human-Fae side, but it still made him ache to think she didn’t trust him enough to come out.

  “Delilah, honey—we need to take you to the doctor. Please, come out. Please trust me. I wouldn’t do this except you’re hurt. Mallen said you need to be seen. We don’t want those wounds infected.” He spoke softy and slowly, trying to coax her out.

  After a few minutes, though, it was apparent she wasn’t going to budge. Shade pushed himself to a sitting position. What the hell could he use to get her out? He glanced around the room, and then saw the plant mister. He’d used it on occasion when she got too rambunctious and he wanted her to quit bugging him and get serious. Now, he picked it up and leaned over so she could see him.

  “I don’t want to have to use this, especially when you aren’t feeling well.” He shook the bottle. The water sloshed inside and Delilah let out another mew and began to back up toward the other side of the bed. As he shook it again, she popped out the other side and headed for the door. Without pausing, Shade dropped the mister and once again, shifted through the Ionyc Seas to appear right behind her. If she tried to race back under the bed, she’d have to go around him.

  She darted to the left, but he was faster this time and managed to scoop her up into his arms, trying to avoid holding her where she was hurt. Delilah let out a soft cry, but then snuggled against him, giving up. Shade carried her downstairs and she reluctantly let him put her in the carrier. As they headed out into the night, he was grateful he’d gotten his license and could drive her Jeep. Otherwise it would be a cold, blustery walk in the rain.

  THE VET STARED at Delilah. “Last time I saw her, she was six feet tall.” The man let out a laugh and glanced over at Shade. “She brought in a couple of mice for treatment.”

  Shade had been relieved to find out the vet was not only aware of who Delilah was, but he was Earthside Fae—a healer by nature, if Shade guessed right.

  “She’s under a backfired spell and either can’t—or won’t—turn back. A gremlin snagged her a good one.” Shade frowned. “She’ll be okay, won’t she, doc?”

  Doctor Burberry examined her heart and then gently looked at the scratches on her side. “We’ll get some salve for these so they’ll heal up without infection. She’s lucky—the gremlin didn’t scratch terribly deep, and the fact that she’s a Were makes all the difference. If she were just a regular cat? She’d probably need to be hospitalized for a few nights. But I should take her temperature.” He glanced over at Shade, grinning, as he held up the thermometer.

  Delilah yowled, loudly, and seconds later, her golden fur shimmered as she quickly shifted back into human form. The next moment, she had practically fallen off the table because it was made for regular size cats, not six-foot tall women.

  “Welcome back.” Dr. Burberry laughed. “I thought that might change matters.”

  Shade leaped up. “You weren’t stuck?”

  She blushed, then winced as she rubbed her side. “Um…no. I was…oh never mind.”

  “I suspect that Delilah was trying to teach you some lesson she thought you needed to learn.” The veterinarian motioned for her to raise her shirt. “This salve will work on you regardless if you’re a cat or not.” As he slathered on the medication, the bright red slashes on her side began to fade. “There, and let that teach you not to tangle with a gremlin in your tabby-cat form. Next time, it could be worse.”

  As Shade led a very penitent Delilah out of the room, he contemplated yelling at her. But it wouldn’t do any good, and the fact was, she’d alerted him to a gremlin who had somehow gotten through the wards. As they headed back to the car, she hesitantly reached out and took his hand.

  “Forgive me? I guess…when I shifted form, I realized that I was angry because you never really asked me if I wanted to stay home. You told me we needed to, and I really wanted to go with the rest of our family.” She shrugged. “I should have just said so from the beginning.”

  Shade forced back a sigh. As much as he liked time alone with her, this was who she was—a woman devoted to those she loved. “I know I rode over your wishes. I just…I guess I just wanted to feel like I was special in your life. Like you wanted to be with me—without needing anybody else around.”

  Delilah whirled around. “I love you, Shade. Always know that. I love you, and you are so very important to me. Along with my sisters, you matter the most to me. But face it, we’re a package deal—all of us.” She paused, then, and glanced up at the sky. The clouds were whirling, and a chill wind gusted by. “You know what? Maybe a weekend at home without the others wouldn’t hurt. Maybe…maybe we do need to take it easy. Tomorrow, we could go out for breakfast and then drive out to Snoqualmie and hike around the Falls?”

  Shade smiled softly. She was giving him the weekend. She was offering an olive branch, and so could he. “All right. Then, why don’t we plan out a big dinner for Sunday night when the others come back. Sunday, we can go shopping for groceries, maybe see a movie, and cook? And then, when your sisters get back, we’ll have a party.”

  She squeezed his hand and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “It will be a purr-fect weekend,” she added, trilling her r’s as she let out a soft purr and snuggled into his embrace.

  Part Three

  Men of Otherworld: Collection Two

  Fae-ted to Love

  Sometimes, it’s so wrong, it’s right.

  This story takes place a week or so after Panther Prowling and contains a slight spoiler for the next Camille book, but it won’t ruin the book at all for you.

  VANZIR TWIDDLED HIS thumbs. He glanced around, hoping that nobody noticed him, though it was a sure bet he wouldn’t pass for Fae. He’d been here before, but e
ach time, he tried to keep it as low key as possible. Aeval hadn’t asked him to, but when you were boffing a Fae Queen on the side, and she hadn’t broken the news to her people or her fellow nobility, it really seemed like the best idea to keep it under wraps until she made the decision. But she’d been insistent that he come out tonight, and when he pressed for a reason why, she just told him to shut up and move his ass. Maybe not in those terms, but the gist was there.

  That was how he had come to be standing in a private waiting room, deep within the Barrow belonging to the Court of Shadow and Night.

  Vanzir glanced around. The only other people wandering by were servants and a couple of guards, and they ignored him. He had a feeling they were trained to ignore strangers unless specifically instructed to wait on them—that was another thing about being connected to someone of royal blood. You learned how to turn a blind eye to anything that might get you in trouble if you accidentally spilled a secret.

  The Barrow was closed—the ceilings were high, but he could sense the roots of the trees holding up the ceiling, and he could also tell they were in a different realm. The minute you walked through the doorway you were in the realm of the Earthside Fae, and there was a faint heartbeat—a rhythm that was constant and insistent. It played out in the blood and the brain, though he had a feeling that those who were of Fae or Elfin blood would never notice it. Vanzir was used to being in underground spaces, and he wasn’t particularly claustrophobic, but when he thought about the fact that—to get out of here he’d have to run the gamut of guards wielding nasty big swords—it made him more than a little nervous.

  The furnishings were nice, though. He’d hand it to Aeval for that. She had made the space seem both comfortable and ornate. Thickly padded benches offered seating, highly polished oak and walnut tables held trays of fruits and sweets, along with napkins, plates, and silverware. Vanzir considered fixing a plate, but then pushed the idea aside. He really wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t all that fond of sugar, and most of the food seemed highly sweetened.