Chase mulled over what I'd said. "So what it boils down to on our side is this: nobody over there is watching any of the new portals?"

I nodded. "That's pretty much the long and short of it. No wonder the Cryptos are getting through, though only the gods know what they want. It could be mere curiosity."

"Well, their presence is stamping a big fat red do-not-promote memo on my record, especially when they show up and get themselves wasted." Chase nodded to the door. Sharah and Mallen were on their way over to talk to us. "Here they come. Right before I got your call, I sent Shamas out on another case," he said as he pulled out his notebook and pen. "Somebody reported a troglodyte or something out in Shoreline. I have no idea what that is, but I'm hoping they were wrong. Really wrong."

Shamas was my cousin, and he'd come Earthside after being tortured and marked for death back in Y'Elestrial. Actually, he'd managed to hide out in Aladril, the city of Seers, until Menolly and I unwittingly brought him home with us. That had been a shock and a half, though mostly welcome. Since then, he'd moved in with Morio, and we'd inducted him into our makeshift version of the OIA. Shamas took to investigative work like a duck to orange sauce.

"We've got a problem, boss." Sharah swung herself onto the counter. Her legs didn't come anywhere near the ground. She was an elf—niece to the Elfin Queen, actually—and so petite she made supermodels look clunky.

"I don't want to hear about it." Chase flashed her an irritated look.

"Of course you don't," she said soothingly, then her smile disappeared. "But you have to. Here's the deal: the bugbear had this on him." Sharah cautiously retrieved and placed a long stick on the counter. Chase and I both did the jump-for-your-life thing.

"What the hell are you doing with a stick of dynamite?" Chase's shock infiltrated his voice, though he instinctively lowered it. "Be careful, and don't yell. If that stuff's old, anything could trigger it."

I motioned toward the red cylinder. "Get that out of my store right now. Things that go boom are so not a good thing to have around my magic. They could go boom in a big, bad way. Very big. Mondo bad. And what do you mean, you found it on the bugbear? He was squashed. Wouldn't it have blown up?"

"No, it rolled to the side when he fell, apparently. Before the car could run over it, too. The stick has his scent on it. Trust me, he was carrying it." Mallen, a thin, waiflike elf who was probably more powerful than all of us put together, picked up the stick and headed toward the door. "Sharah, let's go secure this before something happens to it."

I glanced at Chase. What the hell was a bugbear doing running down the streets of Seattle with a stick of dynamite tucked in his pocket? "The goblin! I wonder if he's packing, too?" I jumped up and headed for the back.

"I take it you didn't frisk him when you tied him up?" Chase let out a sigh that told me he'd had more than enough excitement for the day.

"Frisk him? You've got to be kidding. I have no desire to touch anything personal of his. You never know when one of these creatures might be packing spare parts in all the wrong places. I saw a goblin naked once, and it wasn't by choice. Two dicks. Four balls. No waiting."

Chase groaned. "Don't tell me you dated one of those ugly suckers—"

"Bite your tongue before I tell Delilah to! Hell no, I wasn't dating him. He was in a bar, drunk, and he stripped and started chasing the barmaid around the room. I didn't stick around to ask if he came with standard equipment or if he'd been blessed."

"I really have to visit your home world sometime," Chase said, following me. He grumbled all the way. "I guess we'd better check. Where is he again?"

"In the room next to my office, around the corner. I tied him up with strapping tape."

"Strapping tape?" He chuckled. "Not quite the same bondage techniques you practice on Trillian and fox boy, huh?"

Great. Now he was emulating Trillian. Morio was from Japan, and he was the second member of my triad. A youkai-kitsune, or fox demon, he was helping us against the Demonkin and he'd won his way into my heart.

I swung around and held out my hand. "Don't you start picking on Morio like that. It's bad enough when Trillian still does it. And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business, Johnson. And for another thing, I'm no dominatrix. You just keep your mind on Delilah's toy box and out of mine."

He gave me a crooked smile. "Delilah doesn't have a toy box, my dear, and you know it. Except the one containing her fur mice and scratching toys."

"That's your problem, not mine." I repressed a smile, wondering if Delilah's decidedly more sedate nature bothered him. Or maybe he was relieved. I hadn't asked. Besides, Delilah would tell me if they were having problems in the bedroom. We were all a bunch of gossips when it came to our love lives.

As I rounded the bend in the hall that led to my office, I noticed a breeze wafting through the corridor. Delilah's PI suite was upstairs. Surely she wouldn't have left the door open if she'd come in through the back?

I was about to call up the stairs to see if she was in the building when Chase tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. A trail of blood led along the corridor from the back door to the storeroom next to my office. Several yards of used and torn strapping tape littered the floor, and the room looked like it had been hit by a whirlwind. I raced over to my office. Papers and books were everywhere, shredded into a gazillion pieces. My strongbox had been pried open, and all the money was gone.

As I gazed at the damage that would take me hours to clean up, Chase put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Camille."

"You aren't half as sorry as that damned goblin and Sawberry Fae are going to be when we catch them," I said. "They're going down. We'll find them, and when we do, I'll feed them to Menolly." When in doubt, shoot first, ask questions later.

Chapter Three

A fracas up front interrupted us as I was taking inventory as to what else might be missing from my office. I dashed around the stacks with Chase so close on my heels that he managed to step on the hem of my velvet skirt. The skirt draped down to the floor in back, up to my thighs in front. The clerk had called it an asymmetrical hemline in the store, but in my opinion it was just annoying.

"Get off my skirt, you dolt." I shot a glare over my shoulder, skidding to a halt as I tried to prevent any rips.

Chase bumped into me. "Nice mouth," he muttered but lifted his foot.

I shook out the hem and rounded the corner, straining in order to see what was going on.

The stacks looked clear, though Henry Jeffries was taking the opportunity to root through the Golden Age of Science Fiction section. An SF freak who breathed Asimov and Heinlein, he'd read just about every pulp book that ever made it to the shelves, although he didn't stop there. He'd worked his way through Greg Bear's bibliography and Anne McCaffrey and just about anybody else who could remotely be considered fantasy or SF.

We'd spent numerous afternoons exchanging stories while he tried to flirt with Iris, the Finnish house sprite who lived with my sisters and me, and who helped me out at the store. Apparently, the short time he'd spent talking to Feddrah-Dahns had been enough to satisfy him, and now he was oblivious to whatever the ruckus was, blissfully immersed in an ink-stained heaven.

The shouting echoed from the seating area near the front. Various book groups, as well as the Faerie Watchers Club, met at the Indigo Crescent to discuss their monthly reading choices. And it was in the seating area where I'd ensconced Feddrah-Dahns, sandwiched between two old leather sofas. And now, in front of him, the back of her knees skimming a reupholstered love seat sporting a delicate cabbage rose jacquard, stood Lindsey Cartridge, a friend of mine.

"Please, just let me touch your horn—I just want to touch it once."

She sounded so desperate that I cringed, debating on whether I really wanted to find out what the hell was going on. But there was no going back. This was my shop, and I was responsible for keeping the peace.

I rounded the half wall just in time to see Lindsey make another grab for the unicorn's horn. Freakin' hell, she could get herself gored! Feddrah-Dahns pawed the ground, shaking his head to keep out of her reach. Everybody else had stepped back, worried looks on their faces.

And well they did to worry. Unicorns were dangerous and unpredictable. All this "gentle creature looking for purity" bullshit was just one more way that Earthside history had tried to fluffy up a powerful, sensual creature, just like they'd done with my father's people before we returned out in the open. Dancing nature sprites hugging the trees, we weren't. That was more the elves' territory.

A pissed-off unicorn was the last thing I wanted in my shop. He could easily rear up and club Lindsey with his front hooves, or gore her with his horn. And I knew my store insurance wouldn't take kindly to a claim for "assault by unicorn." Not in the least.

I dashed over and insinuated myself between the two, bracing Lindsey by her shoulders. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you have any common sense at all, girl?"

Immediately turning to Feddrah-Dahns, I said, "I'm sorry. Please, she has no idea of how to behave around a creature of your stature."

He blinked, his molten eyes warming me right through to the cockles. "She seems to be under the mistaken assumption that I can make her get pregnant," he said, speaking in Melosealfôr. "Sounds like she's been listening to fairy tales."

I stared at him. "Wonderful. I had no idea that rumor was floating around."

"Well, I'm fairly certain that's what she asked of me. It's just not physically… she'd be terribly hurt." Feddrah-Dahns looked as startled as I felt.

I turned back to Lindsey, lowering my voice. "Did you really ask him to help you get pregnant?" If she had, I certainly hoped she'd had something in mind other than the B-grade porno flick that was racing through my mind. And, apparently, Feddrah-Dahns's. Oh yeah, I could even envision the title: Horn of Plenty, or some such schlock.

Lindsey lowered her gaze to the floor. Director of the Green Goddess Women's Shelter, she did a lot of outreach for a lot of women who needed self-empowerment and a fresh start in life. She could be a little on the dippy side, but she also had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and she was a staunch advocate for women's rights and social programs.

"Well… yes, I did. In a way."

My jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding. You can't be… he's not a Were, you know—"

"What?" She reared back. "You think I meant it that way? You have to be joking!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, calm down. Now, tell me exactly what you said. English isn't his first language." While Feddrah-Dahns spoke the language perfectly, it didn't mean he had a large vocabulary.

Lindsey blushed. "He really didn't think I wanted… oh no!"

I touched her arm and she let out a long sigh. "Okay, okay. I read in a book on mythology somewhere that touching a unicorn's horn will help a barren woman conceive. And I've been trying…" She paused, biting her lip as her wide hazel eyes welled up with unshed tears. I could feel her pain seep out, crackling like repressed lightning. "We've been trying for so long…"

"Wait a moment." I rested one hand on her shoulder and then glanced at the crowd. "Everything's fine. Nothing happened. Look folks, I know you're thrilled to meet a unicorn, but I need to close up shop." I leaned over and whispered in Lindsey's ear, "Wait here—and keep your hands to yourself, babe."

As I herded the disappointed throng outside, I caught sight of Sharah and Mallen as they drove away with the remains of the bugbear and the dynamite. Better them than me.

I reassured everybody that I'd do my best to encourage Feddrah-Dahns to return for another visit, then locked the door behind them and leaned against it. Letting out a long sigh, I rested the back of my head on the cool window as I closed my eyes. Sometimes being around my mother's people left me feeling on edge, almost abraded by their emotions. I liked my customers, but their thrill over seeing Feddrah-Dahns had translated to a blast of chattering energy that had battered against my shields.

After a few moments, I shook off the static of emotion and returned to the counter. Chase was propped against it, frowning. As I brushed past him, he caught my arm and in a low voice, said, "You going to be long?"

I darted a sideways glance in Lindsey's direction. "Why? You have somewhere urgent you need to be? Look, I just got robbed, a goblin and some demented Sawberry Fae are on a unicorn hunt, and now…" I gave him a shake of the head. "Why don't you go see what you can find out in my office while I take care of Lindsey? She really needs to talk to me."

Without another word, Chase disappeared into the back.

Lindsey dabbed at her eyes as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and led her to the folding card table where I always sat and drank my morning latte while leafing through my magazines or whatever current book I was absorbed in. I liked my caffeine sweet and cold, and my literature in ink and paper, not computer pixels.

As she sat down I joined her, taking her hands in mine. Besides running the shelter, Lindsey had been instrumental in helping my friend Erin Mathews. Erin, owner of the Scarlet Harlot, had recently undergone a major transformation at the hands of my sister Menolly. Even though it was in order to save her life, in a fashion, now Erin was stuck learning how to cope with being a vampire. Lindsey was one of the few who knew that Erin had been turned.