Must Love Hellhounds

It took me a bit of time to finally find the right house in the predawn light, a small place with white siding and green roof, nothing special except for the damn industrial-strength ward on it. I circled it once and felt the magic defenses go down: Kate had seen me. Nothing to do but land, which I did, right on the path before the porch.

Kate sat on the porch with a book on her lap. She was on the pretty side, tan, dark-eyed, dark-haired. Exotic, even. Didn’t look like she was from around here, but then who did nowadays? Her sword lay next to her, a pale sliver. I paid attention to her eyes and the sword. She was a bit quick on the trigger with it.

“I always knew there was something odd about you, Teddy Jo,” she said, nodding at my wings.

“Likewise.”

I felt the magic coil about her. Too much power there. Way too much. She hid it well, though.

“How did it go?”

I shrugged. “Killed the snake responsible. Everybody’s alive. Your friends are in one piece. I expect they’ll celebrate in bed once they sleep it off.”

She arched an eyebrow. “They were together? Like together-together?”

“Looked that way to me.”

A grin bent her lips. Why now, she had a pretty smile. Who knew?

“I’ve got something for you here,” I said, and showed her a sack of apples.

She closed the book and set it aside. The title read, Lion, King of Cats: Exploring the Pride. I handed her the sack.

“Couldn’t find anybody else immune to Persephone’s immortality?” She chuckled.

“You guys don’t exactly grow on trees. I tried burning them, but fire does nothing to the damn things.”

“That’s because they are meant to be eaten or sacrificed.” She picked up her sword, cut a small chunk, and popped it into her mouth. “Tart. Think they’ll keep for a week? I’ve got company coming next Friday, and I’d like to make them into a pie.”

“Can the company handle Persephone’s Apples?”

“He can.”

I made of note of that he. Didn’t know there was anybody else in the area immune to Persephone’s Gift. If I had to put money on it, I’d bet it was the Beast Lord. Magic was a funny thing. The older it was, the stronger it was. True, Hades’ fire-power was of an ancient variety, but the magic Kate threw around was so much older, it gave me a start the first time I felt it. Now, I’d seen the Beast Lord once. He’d passed by me and I about choked. The magic that rolled off him was even older than Kate’s flavor. Primeval-not your regular shapeshifter. Enough to give a man a complex.

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t keep,” I said aloud. “Damn things are near indestructible.”

She lifted the sack. “Thanks!”

“Thank you.”

I pushed from the grass and shot into the sky. The sun was rising. Its rays warmed my wings and I headed back toward Atlanta. I had had a hard night. It was time to get home, drink me some coffee, and feed my dogs. Cerberus made sweet puppies, but the damn things sure ate a lot.

Blind Spot by Meljean Brook

A GUARDIAN NOVELLA

Chapter One

That morning, two hours after she received an anonymous e-mail that included an address and a short message, Maggie Wren boarded a flight from San Francisco to New York. Accompanied by the hellhound that Maggie’s employer had demanded she bring with her, she arrived at JFK in midafternoon. The address led her to a brownstone in Brooklyn. Despite the busy streets and the glaring sun that exposed her movements, she picked the lock at the front door and dismantled the security system.

With a silent hand gesture, she instructed the hellhound to check the first level. Upstairs, the first two bedrooms stood open and empty, except for a shirt and jeans strewn over the floor of the second. Maggie kicked through a third door when she found it locked.

Her target-Geoffrey Blake-was sitting naked on the wooden floor, handcuffed to a radiator. He’d drawn his knees up and rested his back against the wall beneath a lace-curtained window. Although her foot slamming against the door could have woken the dead, his eyes remained closed.

Maggie swept the room with her gun before shoving the weapon into the holster beneath her blazer.

She crossed to Blake’s side, retrieving her lock picks from her jacket’s inside pocket. He wasn’t completely naked, she noted. Her gaze skipped to his black briefs as she crouched and reached for the handcuffs. Yellow smiley faces grinned up at her from the elastic waistband.

“At least someone is happy to see me,” Maggie said. Or maybe the smiley faces were just thrilled to be hugging his muscled abdomen. Smug little bastards.

“I would be,” Blake replied in a deep, dry voice, “if I could see you.”

He raised his head and opened his eyes, revealing irises of light blue-and no pupils. From rim to rim, the color was solid.

Maggie’s fingers twitched. The metal pick slipped out of the keyhole and jabbed his wrist. Shit. She murmured an apology, her mind racing.

Blind. Yet nothing in Blake’s dossier had indicated it. How had he kept the disability unlisted on his official records? Why keep it hidden?