House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City) (40 page)

“Because they make me happy.” At his still-bemused look she added, “All right. If you want to get deep about it, Athalar, playing with them was the first time the other kids didn’t treat me like a total freak. The Starlight Fancy horses were the number one toy on every girl’s Winter Solstice wish list when I was five. And they were
not
all made equal. Poor Princess Creampuff here was common as a hoptoad. But Jelly Jubilee …” She smiled at the purple unicorn-pegasus, the memory it summoned. “My mom left Nidaros for the first time in years to buy her from one of the big towns two hours away. She was the ultimate Starlight Fancy conquest. Not just a unicorn, not just a pegasus—but
both
. I flashed this baby at school and was instantly accepted.”

His eyes shone as she gently set the box on the high shelf. “I’ll never laugh at them again.”

“Good.” She turned back to him, remembering that she still
wore only her towel, and he was still shirtless. She grabbed a box of soap and shoved it toward him. “Here. Next time you want to check out my vibrators, just ask, Athalar.” She inclined her head toward her bedroom door and winked. “They’re in the left nightstand.”

Again, his cheeks reddened. “I wasn’t—you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She shut the linen closet door with her hip and sauntered back to her bedroom. “I’d rather be a pain in the ass,” she said slyly over her bare shoulder, “than a snooping pervert.”

His snarl followed her all the way back into the bathroom.

42

I
n the midmorning light, the Istros River gleamed a deep blue, its waters clear enough to see the detritus sprinkled among the pale rocks and waving grasses. Centuries of Crescent City artifacts rusted away down there, picked over again and again by the various creatures who eked out a living by scavenging the crap hurled into the river.

Rumor had it that city officials had once tried to institute heavy fines for anyone caught dumping things in the river, but the scavengers had caught wind of it and put up such a fuss that the River Queen had no choice but to shut the bill down when it was officially proposed.

Overhead, angels, witches, and winged shifters soared by, keeping clear of the misty gloom of the Bone Quarter. Last night’s rain had cleared to a pleasant spring day—no hint of the flickering lights that often drifted beneath the river’s surface, visible only once night fell.

Bryce frowned down at a crustacean—some type of mammoth blue crab—picking its way along the floor beside the quay’s stone block, sorting through a pile of beer bottles. The remnants of last night’s drunken revels. “Have you ever been down to the mer-city?”

“No.” Hunt rustled his wings, one brushing against her
shoulder. “Happy to stay above the surface.” The river breeze drifted past, chill despite the warm day. “You?”

She rubbed her hands down her arms along the smooth leather of Danika’s old jacket, trying to coax some warmth into them. “Never got an invite.”

Most never would. The river folk were notoriously secretive, their city beneath the surface—the Blue Court—a place few who dwelled on land would ever see. One glass sub went in and out per day, and those on it traveled by invitation only. And even if they possessed the lung capacity or artificial means, no one was stupid enough to swim down. Not with what prowled these waters.

An auburn head of hair broke the surface a couple hundred yards out, and a partially scaled, muscled arm waved before vanishing, fingers tipped in sharp gray nails glinting in the sun.

Hunt glanced to Bryce. “Do you know any mer?”

Bryce lifted a corner of her mouth. “One lived down the hall my freshman year at CCU. She partied harder than all of us combined.”

The mer could shift into fully human bodies for short periods of time, but if they went too long, the shift would be permanent, their scales drying up and flaking away into dust, their gills shrinking to nothing. The mer down the hall had been granted an oversize tub in her dorm room so she didn’t need to interrupt her studies to return to the Istros once a day.

By the end of the first month of school, the mer had turned it into a party suite. Parties that Bryce and Danika gleefully attended, Connor and Thorne in tow. At the end of that year, their entire floor had been so wrecked that every one of them was slapped with a hefty fine for damages.

Bryce made sure she intercepted the letter before her parents got it out of the mailbox and quietly paid the fine with the marks she earned that summer scooping ice cream at the town parlor.

Sabine had gotten the letter, paid the fine, and made Danika spend the whole summer picking up trash in the Meadows.

Act like trash
, Sabine had told her daughter,
and you can spend your days with it.

Naturally, the following fall, Bryce and Danika had dressed as trash cans for the Autumnal Equinox.

The water of the Istros was clear enough for Bryce and Hunt to see the powerful male body swim closer, the reddish-brown scales of his long tail catching the light like burnished copper. Black stripes slashed through them, the pattern continuing up his torso and along his arms. Like some sort of aquatic tiger. The bare skin of his upper arms and chest was heavily tanned, suggesting hours spent near the surface or basking on the rocks of some hidden cove along the coast.

The male’s head broke the water, and his taloned hands brushed back his jaw-length auburn hair as he flashed Hunt a grin. “Long time no see.”

Hunt smiled at the mer male treading water. “Glad you weren’t too busy with your fancy new title to say hello.”

The mer waved a hand in dismissal, and Hunt beckoned Bryce forward. “Bryce, this is Tharion Ketos.” She stepped closer to the concrete edge of the quay. “An old friend.”

Tharion grinned at Hunt again. “Not as old as you.”

Bryce gave the male a half smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Tharion’s light brown eyes glittered. “The pleasure, Bryce, is all mine.”

Gods spare him. Hunt cleared his throat. “We’re here on official business.”

Tharion swam the remaining few feet to the quay’s edge, knocking the crustacean into the drifting blue with a careless brush of his tail. Planting his talon-tipped hands on the concrete, he easily heaved his massive body from the water, the gills beneath his ears sealing in as he switched control of his breathing to his nose and mouth. He patted the now-wet concrete next to him and winked at Bryce. “Take a seat, Legs, and tell me all about it.”

Bryce huffed a laugh. “You’re trouble.”

“It’s my middle name, actually.”

Hunt rolled his eyes. But Bryce sat beside the male, apparently not caring that the water would surely soak into the green dress she wore beneath the leather jacket. She pulled off her beige heels and dipped her feet in the water, splashing softly. Normally, he’d have dragged her away from the river’s edge, and told her she’d be lucky to lose just the leg if she put a foot in the water. But with Tharion beside them, none of the river’s denizens would dare approach.

Tharion asked Bryce, “Are you in the 33rd or the Auxiliary?”

“Neither. I’m working with Hunt as a consultant on a case.”

Tharion hummed. “What does your boyfriend think of you working with the famed Umbra Mortis?”

Hunt sat down on the male’s other side. “Real subtle, Tharion.”

Yet Bryce’s mouth bloomed into a full smile.

It was a near-twin to the one she’d given him this morning, when he’d popped his head into her room to see if she was ready to leave. Of course, his eyes had gone directly to the left nightstand. And then that smile had turned feral, like she knew exactly what he was wondering about.

He certainly had not been looking for any of her sex toys when he’d opened up the linen closet last night. But he’d spied a flash of purple sparkles, and—fine, maybe the thought had crossed his mind—he’d just pulled down the box before he could really think.

And now that he knew where they were, he couldn’t help but look at that nightstand and imagine her there, in that bed. Leaning against the pillows and—

It might have made sleeping a shade uncomfortable last night.

Tharion leaned back on his hands, displaying his muscled abdomen as he asked innocently, “What did I say?”

Bryce laughed, making no attempt to hide her blatant ogling of the mer’s cut body. “I don’t have a boyfriend. You want the job?”

Tharion smirked. “You like to swim?”

And that was about as much as Hunt could take with only one cup of coffee in his system. “I know you’re busy, Tharion,” he said through his teeth with just enough edge that the mer peeled his attention away from Bryce, “so we’ll keep this quick.”

“Oh, take your time,” Tharion said, eyes dancing with pure male challenge. “The River Queen gave me the morning off, so I’m all yours.”

“You work for the River Queen?” Bryce asked.

“I’m a lowly peon in her court, but yes.”

Hunt leaned forward to catch Bryce’s stare. “Tharion’s just been promoted to her Captain of Intelligence. Don’t let the charm and irreverence fool you.”

“Charm and irreverence happen to be my two favorite traits,” Bryce said with a wink for Tharion this time.

The mer’s smile deepened. “Careful, Bryce. I might decide I like you and bring you Beneath.”

Hunt gave Tharion a warning look. Some of the darker mer had done just that, long ago. Carried human brides down to their undersea courts and kept them there, trapped within the massive air bubbles that contained parts of their palaces and cities, unable to reach the surface.

Bryce waved off the awful history. “We have a few questions for you, if that’s all right.”

Tharion gestured lazily with a claw-tipped, webbed hand. The markings on the mer were varied and vibrant: different coloring, stripes or specks or solids, their tails long-finned or short or wispy. Their magic mostly involved the element in which they lived, though some could summon tempests. The River Queen, part mer, part river-spirit, could summon far worse, they said. Possibly wash away all of Lunathion, if provoked.

She was a daughter of Ogenas, according to legend, born from the mighty river-that-encircles-the-world, and sister to the Ocean Queen, the reclusive ruler of the five great seas of Midgard. There was a fifty-fifty chance the goddess thing was true of the River Queen, Hunt supposed. But regardless, the residents of this city did their best not to piss her off. Even Micah maintained a healthy, respectful relationship with her.

Hunt asked, “You see anything unusual lately?”

Tharion’s tail idly stirred the sparkling water. “What kind of case is this? Murder?”

“Yes,” Hunt said. Bryce’s face tightened.

Tharion’s claws clicked on the concrete. “Serial killer?”

“Just answer the question, asshole.”

Tharion peered at Bryce. “If he talks to you like that, I hope you kick him in the balls.”

“She’d enjoy it,” Hunt muttered.

“Hunt has learned his lesson about pissing me off,” Bryce said sweetly.

Tharion’s smile was sly. “
That
is a story I’d like to hear.”

“Of course you would,” Hunt grumbled.

“Does this have to do with the Viper Queen pulling in her people the other week?”

“Yes,” Hunt said carefully.

Tharion’s eyes darkened, a reminder that the male could be lethal when the mood struck him, and that there was a good reason the creatures of the river didn’t fuck with the mer. “Some bad shit’s going down, isn’t it.”

“We’re trying to stop it,” Hunt said.

The mer nodded gravely. “Let me ask around.”

“Covertly, Tharion. The less people who know something’s happening the better.”

Tharion slipped back into the water, again disturbing the poor crab who’d clawed his way back to the quay. The mer’s powerful tail thrashed, keeping him effortlessly in place as he surveyed Hunt and Bryce. “Do I tell my queen to pull in our people, too?”

“Doesn’t fit the pattern so far,” Hunt said, “but it wouldn’t hurt to give a warning.”

“What should I be warning her about?”

“An old-school demon called the kristallos,” Bryce said softly. “A monster straight from the Pit, bred by the Star-Eater himself.”

For a moment, Tharion said nothing, his tan face going pale. Then, “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “I’ll ask around,” he promised again. Far down the river, motion drew Hunt’s eye. A black boat drifted toward the mist of the Bone Quarter.

On the Black Dock, jutting from the city’s bright shoreline
like a dark sword, a group of mourners huddled beneath the inky arches, praying for the boat to safely bear the veiled pine coffin across the water.

Around the wooden vessel, broad, scaled backs broke the river’s surface, writhing and circling. Waiting for final judgment—and lunch.

Tharion followed his line of sight. “Five marks says it tips.”

“That’s disgusting,” Bryce hissed.

Tharion swished his tail, playfully splashing Bryce’s legs with water. “I won’t bet on your Sailing, Legs. I promise.” He flicked some water toward Hunt. “And we already know
your
boat is going to tip right the fuck over before it’s even left the shore.”

“Funny.”

Behind them, an otter in a reflective yellow vest loped past, a sealed wax message tube held in its fanged mouth. It barely glanced their way before leaping into the river and vanishing. Bryce bit her lip, a high-pitched squeal cracking from her.

The fearless, fuzzy messengers were hard to resist, even for Hunt. While true animals and not shifters, they possessed an uncanny level of intelligence, thanks to the old magic in their veins. They’d found their place in the city by relaying tech-free communication between those who lived in the three realms that made up Crescent City: the mer in the river, the Reapers in the Bone Quarter, and the residents of Lunathion proper.

Tharion laughed at the naked delight on Bryce’s face. “Do you think the Reapers fall to pieces over them, too?”

“I bet even the Under-King himself squeals when he sees them,” Bryce said. “They were part of why I wanted to move here in the first place.”

Hunt lifted a brow. “Really?”

“I saw them when I was a kid and thought they were the most magical thing I’d ever seen.” She beamed. “I still do.”

“Considering your line of work, that’s saying something.”

Tharion angled his head at them. “What manner of work is that?”

“Antiquities,” Bryce said. “If you ever find anything interesting in the depths, let me know.”

“I’ll send an otter right to you.”

Hunt got to his feet, offering a hand to help Bryce rise. “Keep us posted.”

Tharion gave him an irreverent salute. “I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, gills flaring, and dove beneath the surface. They watched him swim out toward the deep heart of the river, following the same path as the otter, then plunge down, down—to those distant, twinkling lights.

“He’s a charmer,” Bryce murmured as Hunt hauled her to her feet, his other hand coming to her elbow.

Hunt’s hand lingered, the heat of it searing her even through the leather of the jacket. “Just wait until you see him in his human form. He causes riots.”

She laughed. “How’d you even meet him?”

“We had a string of mer murders last year.” Her eyes darkened in recognition. It’d been all over the news. “Tharion’s little sister was one of the victims. It was high-profile enough that Micah assigned me to help out. Tharion and I worked on the case together for the few weeks it lasted.”

Micah had traded him three whole
debts
for it.

She winced. “It was you two who caught the killer? They never said on the news—just that he’d been apprehended. Nothing more—not even who it was.”