it? But true.”
Reese barely was able to move away from Katy before he collapsed. Vaguely he heard voices. The voices turned into a murmur, and he faded away.
Two for the price of one.
Volod smiled as he looked down at the Shifter, who’d transformed from an enormous tiger to his significantly smaller human form. He was still a big male, probably two hundred pounds, all muscle.
The Witch was a bonus. Seth was the only paranorm from his super-team who hadn’t succumbed to the Witch’s voice. A Shadow Shifter, Seth had transformed into shadow before the voice could affect him. He shifted back into human form beside her, just in time to take her down without her having a chance to say another word. Thereby freeing everyone else from her thrall.
“Excellent.” Volod gave a nod of approval to the recently made paranorm Vamps circling him. The Shifter Tracker, Reese, and the Witch Tracker, Katy, made up a total of eleven for his “dream team.” One Proctor, ten Trackers.
As soon as Reese and Katy were fully turned, Volod would have them trained with the others.
And then the conclave. Volod would reveal his team and his plan when the group of head Master Vampires in the United States gathered for their quarterly meeting.
With the conclave’s backing, Volod intended to take back his New York territory—
And exact revenge on those who had destroyed his world. Revenge against those who had murdered his brother, Danut.
The Drow bitch and the mightier-than-thou Elvin Proctor wouldn’t be so smug when he was finished with them.
They would be his and serve his every command.
It was a far more satisfying thought than simply killing Nyx Ciar and Rodán. Far more satisfying.
THREE
SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE SLINKIES: NOT REALLY GOOD FOR ANYTHING, BUT THEY STILL BRING A SMILE TO YOUR FACE WHEN YOU PUSH THEM DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS.
“What are Slinkies?” my brother, Tristan, asked as he looked from Olivia’s T-shirt to me. The early-evening wind tossed his cobalt-blue hair around his face. With his equally blue skin he would be difficult for New Yorkers to see at night, as long as he stayed to the shadows.
I laughed. “I’ll get you a Slinky of your own.”
“And then I can demonstrate,” Olivia, my PI partner of almost two years, said with a decidedly evil look in her dark eyes.
“Only with the Slinky.” I elbowed her. “Not by pushing Tristan down the stairs.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Olivia looked at him then at me again, devious expression still intact. “If not Tristan, how about we push Colin—”
“Not.” I lightly punched her shoulder.
Olivia was six inches shorter than my five-eight, but a dynamo of a petite package. A martial arts expert and former NYPD officer on the SWAT team—not to mention that she’d grown up with five sisters—Olivia DeSantos was a force to be reckoned with.
She gave a nod in Tristan’s direction. He had tilted his head back and was scenting something on the night breeze. Probably a lot of somethings, since this was New York City.
“He won’t stop looking at my boobs.” She put her hands on her hips. “I feel objectified,” she added with total innocence in her voice.
I laughed and gestured to her melon-size breasts. “They don’t grow them that big in Otherworld.”
With her flawless dark silk skin and her exotic looks, that probably wasn’t the only thing Tristan had been looking at. Olivia was half Kenyan and half Puerto Rican, a stunning combination. I’d noticed Tristan watching her when he didn’t think she was paying attention.
Olivia’s penchant for wearing T-shirts with amusing sayings, as well as jeans and Keds sneakers, didn’t take anything away from her sensual looks. Once she started talking, though, everyone saw Olivia in a far different way—a tough streetwise cop turned private investigator who jumped into everything as if she were bulletproof.
“So …” Olivia gave me a sly look. “How’s the fire-breathing hunk?”
My cheeks burned as if the fire-breathing hunk had scorched them with his flames. I turned away before forcing myself to look at her again.
“I’m not sure I want a relationship right now.” I cleared my throat. “I have a lot to think about.”
Olivia surprisingly didn’t give any kind of smart-ass remark. “Fair enough.”
“Adam found someone,” I said. “He stopped by tonight to tell me.”
“She’s a ballerina.” Olivia studied me. “I helped Boyd out with some information on his last case. She was his case.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I wasn’t sure whether I should feel hurt or appreciative.
Olivia’s gaze remained firm. “I thought about