There it was—waiting for us. Home, with smoke drifting from the chimney and an array of multicolored sparkling lights surrounding the porch. From the driveway, the three-story Victorian shimmered like a beacon, both on the physical and on the astral. Flares of energy shot up like sunspots. I leaned back in the car, smiling. Home. Our haven against the demons.

A dragon built from snow guarded the lawn and driveway, rising stark and white out of the banks piled high around the yard. My herb garden hid under the creature, nestled under mulch until spring. Winter had claimed the land, full force, and we were getting hit hard. La Niña held sway, and we were all her toys. At least it wasn’t Loki this time. The Norse giant had brought unnatural amounts of ice and snow with him a year ago, until we’d dispatched his servant, a vampire named Dredge.

But as cold as it was, this was nothing compared to the Northlands, from where I’d just returned. There, in the high reaches near the top of the world, the winds had raged starkly through the winter woodland, shaking the timbers and sending avalanches down the mountainsides.

Up in the Northlands, life was harsh and often short, and fire became a lifeline. The Northmen were as stoic as they sounded, and they partied hearty—there might not be another day to live, facing the dangers they faced.

As Smoky, Iris, Rozurial, and I had struggled through the woods, ranging higher and higher toward the lair of Howl, the Elemental Wolf Lord of the snow, more than once I thought sure we’d end up as Popsicles, frozen to the rocks.

But the trip had been worth it. Iris had come to terms with her past and forged a future for herself. She stood clear and free, able to marry the man she loved. But she’d been through hell, and now she, like me, faced a path that promised to swallow her up, to force her into a position she wasn’t sure she was ready to shoulder. And to mark the changes, she was now sporting spiffy—well, beautiful—indigo tattoos that spiraled their way across her forehead, down her cheeks, and across her back. Her goddess had marked her, and marked her in the most ornate manner. The gods seemed to like to brand us with divine ink.

The car slowed to a stop and Delilah turned off the engine. The weariness of the past few months welled up in my throat as I pushed open the door. So much had happened, and yet so much still lay before us. We were barely a week from midwinter, and I was facing initiation into Aeval’s Court, where I would willingly hand myself over to the Dark Queen to learn her magic and the ways of a priestess.

As I let out a long breath and climbed out of the Jeep, a crisp wind swept through the night and I pulled the elfin robe tighter around me. I was wearing the cloak of the Black Beast beneath that, but even with both, they couldn’t fend off the chill that had lodged itself in my bones and I wondered if I’d ever manage to shake it off and feel the warmth again.

“You okay?” Delilah wrapped her arm around my shoulders. She’d picked us up at Grandmother Coyote’s portal and now all I wanted was a hot bath, a soft bed, and a lot of sleep. As Smoky hopped out of her Jeep, then helped Iris to the ground, Roz slowly hoisted himself out the other side.

“You’re a good sister,” I said, leaning against her arm. “I’m just tired. The journey was harder than I thought it would be. It was cold—so cold. And there were ice spiders—”

“Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose. “How’d it go? Did Iris . . .”

I just shook my head. “It’s her place to tell you about it, but, yes. She’s still with us, and Vikkommin is dead for good. She survived and broke the curse. But the Northlands are terrifying. I’d hate to be trapped there. It’s not a vacation home in the tropics, that’s for sure. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to face the raw elements without a lot of help. All I know is that I don’t want to visit again for a long, long time.”

We headed toward the house just as Menolly came racing out, the beads in her braids clicking in the chill night. She was carrying my purse.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting at the door for you. I just got a call from Derrick. We’ve got problems. Turn right around and head for the cars. Sorry to do this to you, Camille, but you need to be there.” She motioned toward my Lexus. “Hurry up.”

“I don’t want to hurry anywhere. What the hell is going on?” My heart sank. I was tired. I didn’t want to fight goblins or ghosts.

“Demon in the bar, demanding to talk to you. He’s already mowed down an elf and Derrick’s got him in a standoff. Iris, you, Roz, and Vanzir stay with Morio and Maggie. Shade and Trillian are on their way—there they are!”

Shade, Delilah’s new love, and Trillian—my alpha husband—rushed out of the house and clambered down the steps. Shade was part dragon, part Stradolan—a shadow walker. Trillian was Svartan: one of the dark and Charming Fae. They both wore jeans and heavy jackets, and Trillian was carrying a serrated-edged sword with which he’d recently taken up training.

“Demon? Asking for me? How delightful. Not.” I didn’t bother asking if they knew why he wanted me. I’d find out soon enough, and probably—knowing my luck—I’d find out the hard way.

Menolly whipped around, barking out orders. “Delilah—you and Shade take your Jeep.” She tossed me my purse and keys. “Camille, here you go. You drive Smoky and Trillian. I’ll go in alone.”

And once again, we moved to our respective cars, off and running. There was no more downtime, anymore. Everything had taken on an immediacy. With that thought, I put the Lexus in gear and—as Smoky and Trillian jumped in—hit the gas and plowed out of the driveway.

We pulled into a parking place that miraculously opened up in front of the Wayfarer. With a quick nod to the parking goddess, I forced myself out of the driver’s seat. Holiday season? Open parking spot on one of Seattle’s city streets? Insanely hard to find at best. But I seemed to have a knack for locating them, and I embraced my luck. Hell, considering the rest of my track record when it came to serendipity, I considered the smallest good fortune cause for celebration.

As Trillian opened the door for me, I paused to give him a long kiss. “I missed you,” I whispered, getting some tongue action in while I could. He felt warm in my arms, and smelled of apples and cinnamon. “I missed you a lot.”

“Tonight, we’ll see about wiping away those longings.” He brushed my hair back from my face. “I never spend an hour without thinking about you.”

Smoky grunted. “There’s time enough for that later. Come. We have a situation to take care of. And Trillian, I assure you, I took pains to make sure our wife didn’t miss you or the fox too terribly.” He arched his eyebrows in a knowing way, and two tendrils of his hair rose to wrap themselves around my shoulders, tickling me as Trillian glowered.

I bit back a retort. My three husbands were constantly zinging each other, each one striving for the top place in my heart, but I knew that beneath all the bluster and insults, they’d developed a healthy respect for one another. None of them would ever admit it, but I suspected they even liked each other—at least a little. On more than one occasion I’d caught Smoky and Trillian playing chess, or Morio helping Smoky carry in firewood without being asked.

From the outside, the bar looked normal, but I could hear the commotion from the inside. We trailed behind Menolly as she slammed her way through the doors. She owned the Wayfarer Bar & Grill, and it was a hangout for Supes from all backgrounds, as well as the first stop on the journey for a number of Otherworld visitors. And now, the Wayfarer also sported seven rooms, a makeshift bed and breakfast.

It had proved extremely popular and was full up almost every night. Menolly had hired a maid just to keep up with the cleaning, and a second cook for the grill.

As we hit the polished wood floors, I skidded to a halt, catching my breath. The bar patrons were crowded against the back wall, huddled together, looking terrified. Some were trying to edge toward a side exit, but for the most part, they clung together in a little clump, afraid to move. I turned to see what was holding them hostage.

At the front of the bar, a demon watched them, his head bobbing back and forth like a cobra in front of a snake charmer. There was no passing for any generic Supe with this creature. He looked like the full-fledged demon of nightmares—with smoky skin, and coiled horns rising high over his head. His skin, leathery and taut, shimmered across muscle hard enough to beat a sledgehammer against. He towered seven feet high on cloven hooves, and his hands bore long, razor-sharp nails.

And he was standing over one very dead body.

“Sure enough, that’s a demon all right . . . I think.” For some reason, he didn’t seem to have quite the same energy as most of the demons I’d met, but they weren’t all alike, I reminded myself. And besides . . . if it looks like a demon, and it fights like a demon . . . then it’s probably not a duck.

Derrick, the werebadger bartender, had wedged himself between the patrons and the demon, a sawed-off shotgun aimed at the creature. I bit my tongue. That gun had a better chance of tickling the hell spawn than it did of hurting him.

Menolly gazed at the body on the floor and let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’s one dead elf, all right.”

I nodded. “And one freaky-assed demon.”

We were too late to help the elf, but with a little luck, we might be able to prevent wholesale carnage. We spread out, motioning for Derrick to move to one side. He waited for Menolly’s okay, then nodded and stepped out of the way. As I turned toward the creature, I wondered just what kind it was. There were as many types of demons as there were spiders, it seemed. Unfortunately, we’d become familiar enough with some to name them on sight, but this one . . . I was clueless as to what we were dealing with.

Vanzir could have told us what we were facing, but I really didn’t feel comfortable having him and Smoky in the same room just yet. Smoky still didn’t know what had happened between us, and I intended to keep it that way, at least until I could ensure he wouldn’t go wholesale whomp-ass on Vanzir.

Menolly snarled. “What the fuck are you doing in my bar? Get your ass back to the Sub-Realms, and tell Shadow Wing we said hello.” She strode forward, but the demon raised his head and his gaze caught her full on. She let out a squeak and dropped to the floor.

I rushed over to help her, but before I could get there, she scrambled back up and shook her head, looking stunned. “What the hell . . .”

Damn, this was not the time for Morio to be laid up. Our death magic was far more powerful than my Moon magic, and we might be able to corral the demon with a spell. But he still had a long ways to go before he was healed up and would be out of commission for at least three or four more weeks. The hungry ghosts from our last skirmish had siphoned a dangerous amount of life force off him and left him bedridden for now.

“Stand your ground.” The creature spoke. “I bring you a message from Trytian.”

Trytian? Holy crap, this thing wasn’t a demon—it was a daemon! No wonder we hadn’t been able to tell what it was. Daemons and demons tended to be enemies, and the daemons were not thrilled with Shadow Wing moving in on their territory. They had formed an underground resistance movement, along with some of the unhappier demons, and were working against Shadow Wing the way we were, both down in the Subterranean Realms and here, Earthside.

Well, they weren’t exactly following our model. Not so much. We tried to avoid collateral damage. They didn’t give a fuck.

“What does he want?” I didn’t trust Trytian. Not only was he a daemon, but he’d tried to blow us up when we were fighting Stacia Bonecrusher, a lamia/demon general/necromancer Shadow Wing had sent to destroy us. She’d turned rogue, but that hadn’t meant she’d played things our way. Trytian had joined forces with her till we squashed her flat. Now he and his forces weren’t exactly on the best of speaking terms with us, but we’d reached a rudimentary truce.

“You are the one named Camille?”

I nodded.

“I speak with you. Alone.”

Alone? No way in freaking hell was I cozying up with this creature alone.

“Um. Can I just say, no and are you out of your mind? Trytian has to know better than that. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of the others.”

I backed up, motioning for Delilah to get out of the way. If he could knock a vampire off her feet with just a look, I didn’t want to see what he could do against someone who was still alive.

“You wish me to speak freely in front of all of these patrons? You really want them to know about Shadow—”

“Stop!” I glanced back at Menolly, and she read my expression.

We couldn’t let him talk about Shadow Wing. No one in the general public knew that Earth was on the verge of a demonic war. Yet. And we were inclined to keep it that way in order to stave off panic. We were slowly gathering our allies, but no way in hell were we prepared to fight any sort of a demon army at this point.

“You can’t seriously be thinking about talking to him in private? He’s already killed one person.” Menolly pointed toward the dead elf. “Just what are we going to tell Queen Asteria? Oh, she’ll believe us, but do you think she’s going to be thrilled?”

“You have a point.” The Elfin Queen loved her people. In fact, she’d always been fair and just, if not totally aboveboard, with us, too. “But Menolly, I have to do what he wants.” I lowered my voice so nobody but the nearest Supes could hear me. “Can you imagine the chaos if any one of those Faerie Maids over there huddled against the wall finds out there’s a full-fledged daemon in the house? Demon, daemon, devil, they’re not going to care. It’s just going to mean panic. Right now, they still think this is some kind of Supe with a bad case of the grumps. We need to keep it that way.”

Smoky glowered. “My wife is not going to snuggle up in a room alone with you, beast. I insist that someone else be present, and I claim the right.”

The daemon looked at him, sniffing. “Dragon. Silver dragon—and white. A mix. The world is full of half-breeds tonight, it seems.” He looked at Shade. “Half dragon, half shadow.” Then, to my sisters and me, “And three human-Fae girls. Interbreeding weakens the strains, you know.”

“Irrelevant.” Smoky let out a loud hrmph.

The daemon cocked his head. “Now you, dragon, you are a lord among your kind, half-breed or not. And I do not play toad to royalty. There are reasons you will not be present, my own skin being one of them.” His voice was harsh, like the vocal cords had been burned long ago, and he kept moving his head in a sinuous dance, as if he couldn’t keep it still.

“Then my wife will not attend you.”

“Actually, your wife will attend him.” I glanced at Smoky. “I have to—we can’t discuss these matters in public.” Turning back to the daemon, I added, “We’ll have our chat alone, but in a place of my choice.”

It occurred to me that if we went to the safe room in the basement of the Wayfarer, the daemon wouldn’t be able to (a) teleport out with me, (b) shoot magic at me, or (c) bathe me in fire. He could still break me in half, but if he’d wanted to do that, he already would have.

I pointed toward the floor. “Menolly, we need to use the room downstairs.”

She frowned, then her eyes lit up. “Oh, that room. All right. Come, follow me. Don’t hurt anybody and don’t destroy anything, either of you. Daemon, I hold you on pain of death that you won’t hurt my sister.”

“As Trytian would say, big fucking whoop.” The daemon grunted. Then, with a suspicious look, he followed Menolly, shaking the floor with each meaty step. I swung in behind. Smoky, Trillian, and Shade followed, leaving Delilah and the staff to take care of the dead elf and the frightened patrons.

Just what they were going to tell them, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t wait to hear the story they concocted. As it was, we were already in for a lot of damage control just from the daemon’s appearance in the bar. Word would leak out, no matter what we did, and we didn’t have cool blue flashy-flashy things like the Men in Black did. We were lacking somewhat in the mind-control department, and our glamour wouldn’t work on a daemon.

Downstairs, we came to the safe room. No magic could enter here, nor any creature teleport in or out. All natural abilities were muted within the room. If a nuclear blast hit this bar, the safe room would stand.

I gazed at the door, swallowing my fear. The thought of being shut up alone with the daemon was daunting. Not so much fun. Not so safe. But because the alternative was worse, I gathered my courage and motioned for him to enter the room and, with a scowl, he ducked his head so that his horns cleared the archway. As I followed behind him, Menolly touched me on the arm.

“One peep and we’re coming in. Don’t get near him. He can’t work his magic, but he could tear you apart.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” And, reluctantly, I shut the door and turned to face the daemon, crossing my arms. The best defense was to show no fear. “Trytian has a message for me? Deliver it and then scram, hell spawn.” I didn’t bother asking for his name—chances were he wouldn’t give it to me.

The daemon looked around. “A no-magic zone? Not stupid—not so stupid as some.” A dark grimace crossed his face. “I would relish a fight with you, girl. And your friends. But this is not my battle to wage.”

I decided to let that one pass. No need to press my luck. Letting out a long sigh, I asked, “What do you want? Why did you kill the elf upstairs?”

“He got in the way. He had to be eliminated.” He said it nonchalantly. Dare to interfere with the daemon? Poof—you die.

“Again, I ask: What do you want?”

“I bear a warning from Trytian.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why would he warn us about anything? He tried to kill us, for the sake of the gods.” Not only that, but Trytian was rude. Very rude.

“I bring only the warning. I have no other answers for you.”

Hmm . . . I played out the reasoning in my mind. The only reason Trytian would offer us a warning was if he anticipated needing our help in the future, which meant we would have a bargaining chip. Unless he’d suddenly sprouted wings and become a cute little cherub. I sincerely doubted the latter.

“Okay, I’m listening. What’s so important that Trytian sent you over here to stir the pot? And why you—why not someone who can pass out on the streets?”

I leaned against the small bistro table that was pushed against one wall. The room showed signs of occupation—Erin, the daughter Menolly had sired into the vampiric life, was staying down here during the day, sleeping in safety until her room at the new Vampires Anonymous Shelter was ready. The bed was piled high with comfy blankets; there were cards and books on the table, and an empty bottle that had held blood.

“I was the only one available to send at the moment. Trust me, I do not enjoy playing messenger boy. But Trytian is my leader and I obey. Here.” He handed me a letter. “You will understand why I did not want to be in the same room with your husband when you read it.”

Oh hell. Something to do with Smoky. I couldn’t imagine the daemon being that afraid of Trillian, and Morio was at home.

Gingerly, I took the paper and opened it. The writing was tight, neat, and precisely printed in red ink—at least I hoped it was ink, considering the color. As I began to read, I started to sink toward the floor, but one grunt from the daemon and I straightened back up again. No dropping my guard, not when we were alone together. No use asking for trouble.

I glanced up at the creature. “Wait here, please.” Before he could say a word, I slipped out of the room and slammed the door, locking it behind me. He could hammer all he wanted on it, he was locked in there till doomsday if we wanted.

“What’s going on? Are you all right?” Smoky leaned over me, looking for signs that the daemon had laid hands on me.

“I’m fine . . . at least physically. He gave me a letter from Trytian. If it’s true, then you and I are fucked. Just plain and simple.”

“Read it.” Shade was staring at me, concern creasing his face.

I cleared my throat and held up the paper.

I shuddered, letting out a long breath as the world crowded in too closely around me. Hyto was in the area.

Hyto had thrown a fit when he found out Smoky had married me. It had driven the already dangerous dragon over the edge, and now he had a vendetta going against us.

And now, he was on the rampage. A dragon as lecherous and deadly as any demon ever could be, he’d tried to kill Smoky’s mother for denying him. He’d decided I was to blame for his being thrown out of the Dragon Reaches and turned pariah. And now, Hyto wanted both Smoky and me dead—worse than dead. Hyto wanted revenge.

Smoky’s pleasant demeanor drained away and his eyes began to swirl. Very softly, very slowly, he spoke. “My father has just signed his death warrant.”

“Crap.” Menolly leaned against the wall. “He’s here, in Seattle? Not the news we needed right now.”

I fingered the paper. “What’s a snow monkey? Why would he have an ape with him?”

“Trytian’s not talking about an animal,” Shade said. “A snow monkey is slang for a monk from one of the upper monasteries in the Northlands. Usually, snow monkeys are rogues—having been either kicked out of their order or leaving of their own accord. They’re most often mad as a hornet, and they don’t give a damn about anybody but themselves. It’s not hard to buy one of them off. And if one’s taken up with Smoky’s father, then he’s bound to have been offered plenty of money. They’re dangerous.” He gave me a sad smile. “I’d start watching my back if I were you.”

“Like we haven’t been already.” Sighing, I leaned against the wall, letting them talk around me.

Mad monks were bad enough, but the thought of Hyto being so close—the thought of him actually being in the city—made me want to run screaming home to Otherworld. But I couldn’t do that, either. My father had exiled me from Y’Elestrial. Oh, I could go back to OW, but I couldn’t go home again.

Smoky’s father . . . Hyto hated me. He hated my breath, my life, my very existence. He had nothing to lose. He’d been cast out of the Dragon Reaches, denied by his wife, disowned by his children. And he blamed it all on me. The memory of his hands on me the one time we’d had the misfortune to meet still gave me the creeps.

My cell phone rang, and I flipped it open. Caller ID told me it was Chase Johnson. I punched Talk and answered.

“Camille—I was hoping you were back. I need you down here. We’ve got a problem in Tangleroot Park, and I am pretty sure it’s magical in nature. In fact, I almost pissed my pants when I saw it. There’s some really funky energy running around lately. I’ve got my guys blocking it off for now, but I’m scared to try anything before you come have a look-see.”

“It? What are you talking about? A monster or something?”

“I don’t think so. Honestly? I’ll bet you my paycheck it’s a portal of some sort. And I can hear singing through it. The voices call to me, Camille. I hate to say it, but I’m afraid. I get near and all I want to do is run through it.”

My blood ran cold. Hyto was my big worry right now, but he wasn’t standing here in front of me. First, if Chase was right and there was a portal opening up in Tangleroot Park, we could be in for big trouble of a different sort. Because the random portals that had started showing themselves around the city were rogue, and could lead anywhere—and could have anybody on the other side, waiting to come through. Second, if it was calling loud enough that Chase could hear it, who else might sense its presence?

“We’ll get our asses over there right now. Meanwhile, don’t let anybody touch it or go near it.” As I shut my phone, it occurred to me that my life was quickly coming to resemble a roller coaster, and right now, we felt at the peak, poised to take a long, dark ride down the tracks.