I hit the floor with a soft thunk. “Will do, Ms. Iris. I don’t have time for anything now, but I’ll grab a drink when I get home. If I’m to be your camerawoman, I need a camera.”

“Use the camcorder,” Camille said. “They think I work for one of the tabloids, so it stands to reason we won’t have expensive equipment. I’m going to get dressed. Vanzir, you and Rozurial head over to the FH-CSI building and wait for us. We’ll need your help, as well as Smoky’s, to jump out on the astral.”

As Morio followed her up the stairs, I motioned to Rozurial. “Come out on the back porch. I want to talk for a moment while they’re getting ready.”

I shut the door behind us and turned to Roz, who leaned against the built-in counter that was covered with flowerpots and gardening supplies. He was wearing a pair of black leather pants, formfitting to a breathtaking degree, and a black tank. His hair hung free to his shoulders. He placed his hands on the counter behind him and spread his legs just enough to let me stand between them.

“We don’t have long,” I whispered, suddenly hungry for him. The kiss had echoed through my dreams. As I pressed between his legs, he wrapped his arms around me, enfolding me as he brought his head down and brushed his lips against mine. Once again, sparks flared, and his musky scent lured me in.

He played his lips against mine, teasing me, scraping his teeth gently against the skin as he very lightly flickered his tongue into my mouth. If I’d been alive, I would have been lost for good. He could have done anything he wanted with me, and I wouldn’t put up a fuss. As it was, I was so horny that I thought I was going to scream.

I managed to pull myself away from him. “We have to go. But later—later . . .”

His dark eyes gleamed, and he gave me that sardonic smile. “Later, I’m going to lay you down and slide between those gorgeous legs of yours and make you come so hard you won’t be able to breathe.”

I laughed then. “I don’t have to breathe, so no problem. But yes . . . I think I’m ready, Roz. I think I’m ready for you.”

“Good,” he said, brushing his lips across my forehead. “Because I’ve been ready for you since we first met.”

And with that, we headed inside to grab our coats. As we left the house, Iris watching Maggie and waiting forlornly for her drunken sot of a leprechaun to call and apologize, my thoughts lingered on a certain curly haired incubus. Just what tricks could he teach me?

Vanzir and Roz took off before we could reach Camille’s car. I shook my head as the pair disappeared from sight. “We’ve got some really odd bedfellows, you know?”

Camille grinned. “I have the feeling one of them is about to become a bedfellow for real.” She let Morio take the driver’s seat and rode shotgun. I sat in the back with the camera and a few other odds and ends.

As Morio backed out of the driveway, I ran over everything I’d seen the night before, in as much detail as I could. Camille listened, nodding periodically. When I came to the used condoms and dust bunnies, she let out a strangled “Ewww” and shuddered.

“Yeah, it was pretty gross,” I said. “And I’m used to gross.”

“I’m just glad we don’t have to use condoms,” Camille said, glancing over at Morio, who simply grinned and kept on driving. I could see the smile plastered across his face in the mirror.

“Does the shot you and Delilah got before we left wear off? I can just see you with a half-demon child . . . or a half-dragon.”

“Dragons can’t impregnate Fae, and the shot lasts until we go home and take the antidote,” she said. “But . . . I dunno, Morio, can I get pregnant from you? Theoretically?”

He arched one eyebrow, still smirking. “Yes. You can. I wouldn’t object, but now isn’t exactly the best time, considering the circumstances.”

“There’s no best time when it comes to me and children,” she mumbled.

Morio pulled to the curb in front of the Hellions’ house. I pointed out the window on the third floor. “That’s Larry’s bedroom.”

Camille glanced at me. “Ready? They know that you and I are half-Fae, by the way. I decided they might be more interested in talking to us, and boy, did they bite when I mentioned it.”

She slid out of the seat. As usual, Camille hadn’t stinted when it came to dress. She’d done herself up royal, with a full chiffon skirt in a rich plum, a black and silver bustier that squeezed her boobs into an eye-popping display, lace gloves, and a lace shawl.

Morio was dressed in black jeans, a black mesh tank, and a leather jacket. He’d unleashed his hair, and it was sleek, shiny, and just ever so slightly waved. They made one hell of a couple. Actually, Camille looked good with all her men. They were all on the flamboyant side and fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

I was still dressed in what I’d put on when I got up: indigo jeans, skintight, and a silk turtleneck in pale blue. The shirt hid my scars without appearing too warm. The heat—or cold—wouldn’t bother me, but it helped me to pass when I went out in public. I was wearing a denim bolero jacket over the top and lace-up stiletto boots that came to my knee. Holding the camera in what I hoped looked like a professional manner, I followed Camille and Morio up the stairs to the front door.

I was glad that I was looking at my feet when the door opened, or I might have given something away. Because Larry was standing there, welcoming us in. When I heard his voice, I slapped on an impassive expression and glanced at him, but I might as well have not existed. He was staring at Camille’s boobs with the look of a kid staring through a candy store window. Yep, she had some impressive weapons, all right.

“I’m Camille, the reporter? Here to speak with Harold Young?”

“Yeah, right . . . come on in.” He ushered us into an extensive parlor. But size wasn’t always everything. By the condition of the room, it was obvious that a pack of college boys lived there. Take-out containers lay strewn across the tables, a foosball table sat off to one corner, Penthouse posters covered the walls, and a flurry of books and papers covered most of one long table that looked like it had been swiped from a library.

Black velvet drapes covered the windows, making me cringe. They were covered with lint and dust. At least the guys hadn’t shoved them in the washing machine, because they still looked to be in one piece, if a little ratty.

Larry motioned to the sofa. “Just dump all that stuff on the floor,” he said. “You guys want a beer or something?”

Camille murmured a polite no, as did Morio. I shook my head and held up the camera. “Got to keep a steady hand,” I said, trying for casual.

“Heh,” Larry said, glancing at me for the first time. He started to look away, then stopped, his eyes flashing back to me. I froze. There was something in his expression that didn’t track right. Almost like he recognized me. But that was impossible. I’d been careful to make sure I’d stayed hidden.

Camille glanced at him like she sensed something off, too, because she smoothly interjected, calling his attention back to herself. “Thank you for taking time out to talk to us. As I said, I’m Camille and this is Morio. And our camerawoman, Menolly.” She glanced around. “Will Mr. Young be joining us? I understand he’s the president of Dante’s Hellions.”

Larry’s gaze flickered back to me for a second, but he returned his attention to Camille. “Yes, he’ll be down in a few minutes. I’m Larry Andrews. I’ll be sitting in on the interview, if you don’t mind. Harold wanted me to.”

“Not a problem,” Camille said smoothly.

“So, you girls are from Otherworld, you said?” He might as well be drooling. I noticed that Camille, who usually didn’t mind being stared at, was subtly reining in her glamour. Morio wasn’t looking all too happy, either.

“Right,” I said. “Camille and I came over Earthside a year or so ago in order to study the culture, particularly the educational structures. That’s how we got the idea to do a story for the Front Line, the Fae newsletter we work for.”

Larry looked at me again, and again there was the spark of recognition. I frowned. How the hell could he have seen me? I knew I’d stayed hidden the entire time I’d been in his room. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

At that moment, there was a movement at the entry to the parlor, and a gangly young man stood there. He was average height and must have been mid-twenties, with short-cropped hair and beard stubble the same color as mine. With black wire-framed glasses, torn jeans that looked all too expensive, and a T-shirt that read Fuck You, Too, he looked like the typical college geek. Except that his energy reeked of Demonkin.

I heard Camille gasp, then her hand fluttered to her throat, and she forced a smile as she stood. “Harold, I presume? Harold Young?”

He gave us the once-over and, with a thin smile that was anything but friendly, crossed to the sofa and held out his hand. Camille stared at it for a fraction of a second before taking it.

“Yeah, I’m Harold. You’re Camille, the reporter?” His gaze slid over her in a sleazy, possessive manner.

“Uh . . . yeah.” Camille tried to extricate herself from the handshake, but Harold wouldn’t let go until she yanked her hand away. He folded his arms across his chest, smirking as she wiped her hand on her skirt. I didn’t think she even realized she was doing it.

Morio bristled, and I slid a hand onto his arm. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Our little interaction didn’t go unnoticed. Harold raked his gaze over Morio, and then he turned to me, ignoring the youkai.

“And you? You’re Fae, too?”

I nodded. “The name’s Menolly.” I thrust my hand at him, wanting to see if I could pick up anything. I also wanted to give him a little taste of his own medicine. When he clasped my hand, I squeezed. Hard. He gasped and tried to let go, but I held on for a beat longer than necessary, squeezing again while flashing him a big smile. Oh yeah, this meeting was going hunky-dory, all right. Just like the meeting at the O.K. Corral.

Harold stared at his hand, then at me, and motioned for us to sit down again. He cautiously took a seat opposite in the chair that Larry had vacated. Larry sat next to him on the ottoman, and the hierarchy was clear. Harold was the big cheese, all right.

Camille pulled out her notebook and nodded to me. “If it’s all right, Menolly’s going to film you.”

“No.” Harold shook his head. “No film.”

“All right, then.” Camille frowned, motioning for me to put away the camcorder. “Will you tell me a little about the background of Dante’s Hellions? Why and when did you start the organization?”

Harold let out a loud snort. “I didn’t start it. My father belonged to it, and my uncle. I joined when I was a freshman.”

“Why not one of the other fraternities?” Camille’s eyes flashed, and I knew she was goading him. And she got a reaction, all right.

Harold let out a harsh laugh. “Because the sheep in this college are a bunch of idiots, and I have no intention on joining their fucking social clubs. I’m president of Dante’s Hellions because the university is run by a bunch of imbeciles. Because when the big one goes down, we fully intend to be the ones left standing in our little corner of the globe.”

He flashed us a dazzling grin, and in that smile, I saw the unmistakable signs of a predator. Harold Young was dangerous. And who knew what he’d been dabbling in over the years?

CHAPTER 17

Camille blinked and glanced at me. I gave her an imperceptible shake of the head. She swallowed and turned back to Harold. “The big one? And that would be—?”

“End of the world, baby.” He leaned toward her, way too close. I had a bad feeling about this dude. He ignored boundaries. The thought of him following Sabele at night gave me the creeps. And yet, she’d mentioned that it didn’t feel sexual with her. But whatever the reason, I now firmly believed he’d been stalking her.

“I’m talking about the Apocalypse. About Ragnarok. About end of the line, it’s over, lights out.” He let out a low chuckle. “When it’s all done, we intend to be the founding fathers of the new order. Of course, we’ll have to recruit a few women. Can’t birth a new race without the opposite sex, you know.” Again, his tone oozed over the words, making me want to jump in the shower.

I could tell Camille’s smile was forced, but hopefully this bozo wouldn’t pick up on it. He was so full of himself that he probably didn’t notice much beyond his own grandiose sense of self.

“So you believe that civilization is going to collapse?” I felt the need to intercede. He was too focused on Camille and not in a good way.

Harold’s gaze flickered to me. He looked annoyed. “Better believe it, Red. We know the end is coming, and it’s going to be bathed in fire, not ice.”

As I stared into his eyes, looking beyond the arrogance, I began to see something that scared me shitless. He smelled like Demonkin because he’d been dealing with demons. He had that look: the glow in his eyes that read demon fire, the sense of entitlement . . . Was he in league with Shadow Wing? Or was he just another stupid dabbler who’d been playing around where he shouldn’t have?

I stood up. “Excuse me; I have to make a call. I’ll just step into the hall, if you don’t mind.”

Camille gave me a confused look, but I just smiled. Morio let out a slow breath. “Do you need company?” he said softly.

I shook my head. “No, why don’t you stay here with Camille and the boys.” No way in hell was I leaving my sister alone with these creeps. Harold and Larry might be human, but they were up to no good, and I didn’t have any intention of putting her in danger.