"Thank the gods. It's dead," I said quietly, peering down into the lifeless eyes of the dubba-troll. "They're both dead. Anybody hurt?" My foot still ached where I'd hit it on the tombstone, but it was nothing a foot massage wouldn't heal.

Everybody shook their heads as Chase knelt by the open grave.

"Shine that light over here," he said to Shamas.

Our cousin pointed his flash light into the hole as Chase lowered himself gingerly to the bottom. "We know the trolls already killed two hobos who were trying to sleep in the park," he said quietly.

Chase reached for Devin's pulse, then glanced up at us and shook his head. "Make that three victims. Devins is dead. His neck's broken."

I leaned on Delilah's arm. Three victims, killed by Cryptos. Joy oh joy. The Freedom's Angels were going to have a field day when they found out.

Chapter Eight

By the time we got home, I wasn't up to heading out to Smoky's, so he agreed to me coming out the next day to talk to Morgaine and took off walking down the road. Feddrah-Dahns decided to stay the night at our house, though he opted to sleep outdoors. We couldn't go after Mistletoe in the night. For one thing, we still didn't know where to start.

Morio still hadn't shown up by the time we got home, and I ended up leaving three messages on his cell phone. As Trillian and I climbed into the shower together, I couldn't get my mind off worrying about him.

"What's wrong, babe?" Trillian soaped my stomach as I leaned my head back to avoid getting my hair wet. He liked to bathe me, and I was quite happy to let him. Showers—now that was one luxury I'd miss whenever we went home to Otherworld.

"Just worried about Morio," I said. "He never forgets to call."

"Yeah, the little bastard is punctual, all right," Trillian said, leaning down to slip one of my nipples into his mouth. He sucked gently, and I moaned, leaning back against the tile. I was tired, but his touch felt good, and I realized I was up for some destressing.

"How do you spell relax?" I whispered, holding his head with my hands.

"I think the answer is f-u-c-k-m-e," he answered, sliding his way up my body. He was hard—ready—and I could see by his eyes he was planning on planting his flag as many times as possible before Smoky got to me.

"Sometimes I think I should have been a sacred harlot," I whispered, my breath ragged. The oath we'd forged acted like a perpetual aphrodisiac, and the longer we were together, it seemed the stronger it got. "Delilah and Menolly… their hormones are in check, but mine never seem to stop. I need you, Trillian. I need you to touch me, I need you to fill me up and never stop reminding me that you own me."

As he trailed his tongue along the side of my neck, I pushed him back, then slid down on my knees. The water cascaded down in a waterfall of warmth as I brought my lips to his leg, working my way up his inner thigh, over the taut, jet muscles that convulsed at my touch. Hungry for the taste of him, I sought him out, letting him slowly press his length into my mouth. I gave one long, slow lick along the hardened ridge, from base to tip, and he shuddered.

"You're too passionate to be one of the sacred whores," he said, bracing his hands on my shoulders as he planted his back firmly against the tiled wall. "They perform for men out of duty. You do this out of love… love for the act, love for the passion, love for…" He didn't finish it, but I could hear the word "us" on his tongue.

I nibbled and teased, pressing my mouth against him as I slowly let his girth part my lips again. He groaned and gently thrust forward as I wrapped my tongue around the head, sucking hard, tasting the droplets that gathered on the tip. They were salty, warm, filled with desire.

After a moment, Trillian pushed me back, panting roughly.

"Stop… before I come," he commanded. I stopped, and he lifted me up and pressed me against the tiles. I lifted one leg, balancing it on the rim of the tub, and he dipped slightly, then came up to press against my lower lips, sliding thickly in with ease and familiar comfort. I gasped as his fingers sought my clit, and the next thing I knew, he was teasing me, cajoling me to follow his lead.

"Oh Great Mother, hard. I need you. Hard, Trillian. Give it to me hard." All the sexual tension from Smoky's visit and the stress of the evening had built up in my body, and this was my only release. This was the only way I could ever get outside of my head—escape from my thoughts.

He thrust against me, and we set our pace. With one hand, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back as he pressed his lips against my neck, sucking deeply. Territorial markers.

"You want me, you've got me," he said, his voice raspy. "Never run away from me again, Camille, or I'll tear the world apart to bring you back. I don't care how many men you fuck, but never leave me again. Not for fox-boy, not for the dragon, not for the freaking gods themselves."

I grabbed his shoulders as he plunged so deep and so hard that I was afraid we'd topple over, but a second later, he fingered me again, and I suddenly forgot about the tub, about the water, about everything as I found myself rising, spiraling up and out toward the apex, where a deluge of sensation ricocheted through me. A moment later, I collapsed into his arms, spent, relieved, savoring the release that only sex could offer.

I woke early, long before sunrise, to the sound of chimes echoing from my study, across the hall. The Whispering Mirror! I slipped out from beneath Trillian's arm, which was draped over my side, and gave him a satisfied peck on the cheek. He murmured in his sleep, then turned over as I slid into my silk robe and hurried out the door to cross the hall.

Encased in an engraved silver frame, the Whispering Mirror was our interdimensional videophone to Otherworld. Originally, it had been programmed to contact the OIA. Now, with a little rewiring thanks to the elves, it homed in on Queen Asteria's court.

I sat down at the vanity table it was affixed to and removed the black velvet cloth draped over the mirror. The glass sparkled with a vortex of colored mists.

"Maria," I said, activating it. Instead of responding to our voices, it now responded to a code word. We'd chosen our mother's name.

The swirling mist in the glass slowly began to clear, revealing Trenyth, Queen Asteria's advisor and assistant. He looked almost as tired as I felt. He blinked, staring at me with open surprise. I glanced down and realized my robe had slipped open and that I was popping out of my spaghetti-strap nightgown.

I adjusted my breast, giving him a dippy grin. At four in the morning, I just couldn't get upset over offering him a little peep show. "Nothing you haven't seen before, so don't look so shocked. Do you know what time it is here? I've had three hours of sleep. We spent half the night fighting off two dubba-trolls. I'm beat. What do you want?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, but there's been a bit of an emergency over here," he said.

I recognized the urgency in his voice, and all my snarkiness slid away. "What do you need?"

Trenyth, like most elves, managed to keep an impassive expression on his face. He was unreadable unless he chose otherwise. "Is Trillian with you?"

I nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Fetch him. I need to talk to him. Now, if you will." He sat back in his chair, waiting, offering no other explanation.

Worry replacing curiosity, I pushed back the bench and hurried toward my bedroom. What could Queen Asteria want with Trillian? He'd been a runner for her and Tanaquar, but they'd grounded him Earthside for awhile when he was shot by one of the enemy's arrows. Worse than the wound, he'd been outed as a spy, which put him squarely in danger back in Otherworld.

"Trillian, wake up," I said, shaking his shoulder until his eyes flew open. "Trenyth is on the Whispering Mirror, and he wants to talk to you."

Within seconds, Trillian leapt out of bed. He stood there, a naked, gorgeous god, casting a quick glance around the room. I held up his smoking jacket. Actually, it was more of a midcalf robe, one I'd bought for him at Yuletide.

"Here, this what you're looking for?"

"Thanks," he said, as he slid into it and belted it. He hurried across the hall, with me following, and took his place in front of the mirror.

Trenyth straightened his shoulders. "Trillian, I have…" He stopped when he saw me. "Camille, this is security business. You'll have to leave the room."

Frowning, I backed away, not wanting to go but well-versed in taking orders. We may not have been the best agents, but it wasn't for lack of trying. I could hear the soft fall of their voices as I closed the door behind me and huddled in the hallway.

"What's going on?" Menolly appeared at the top of the stairs, Delilah right behind her. "I was watching Jerry Springer with Kitten when we thought we heard the Whispering Mirror."

"You did. Trenyth is talking to Trillian. I was asked to leave the room before I could find out what was going on." Still smarting from being told to get out, I glanced back at the door. "My hearing's good, but I can't catch what they're saying."

Menolly winked at me. "Out of the way." She pushed past me and gently pressed her ear to the door. Holding one finger to her lips, she listened.

After a moment, she straightened, her pale complexion even whiter than usual. "In your room," she whispered.

The three of us filed into my room and sprawled on the bed. Delilah pulled the satin comforter around her shoulders, and I joined her beneath the coverlet as Menolly let out a long sigh.

"You'd better prepare yourself. Trillian's being called back to Otherworld. I couldn't catch much else, beyond the fact that the war has shifted, and Queen Asteria needs him for something." She frowned, toying with Belle, the stuffed bear that was sitting on the bottom of my bed. Morio had given Belle to me, and I liked her company.

"What? But he's bound to have a price on his head. What the fuck do they think they're doing in there? What's taking so long?" I jumped out of the bed and yanked off my robe and nightgown, scrambling into a skirt. My hands shook as I fastened the hooks on my bra and slid into a V-neck tank top. "Trillian's just getting over that arrow wound; they can't possibly mean for him to return to duty. Not now. Not yet."

"Listening at the door?" Trillian entered the room and glanced at the three of us. "How much did you hear?"

Menolly shook her head. "Not enough. Only that they want you back in OW pronto."

"What's going on?" I hurried to his side, pressing against him, my hand against the shoulder where the arrow had come close to piercing his heart. "They can't possibly expect you to go back to running messages? You're too well-known. Lethesanar will have all her scouts looking for you."

Trillian shook his head and gently took my hand, kissing each finger lightly before he slipped out of my embrace. "No, Camille. They haven't asked me to go back to spying. It's another mission. One I can't refuse. Remember, I gave my oath for as long as the war lasts. I can't back out of the deal now."

"But if you're not going back to running messages, why was Trenyth contacting you?" Delilah asked, bouncing to sit on her knees on the bed. Her long, golden shag was caught up in a pair of ponytails, and her kitty-cat pajamas were bright pink, making her look for all the world like Bubbles, of The Powerpuff Girls.

"It was the most expedient way of getting hold of me." He looked around, then picked up his neatly folded clothes from the quilt rack that stood near the window. "Now, if you girls will excuse me," he said to Delilah and Menolly, "I need to get dressed. I'll have to leave my Earthside clothes here, Camille. I don't have time to take them home. Will you get me my traveling clothes and kit?"

As I mutely hurried to fetch his tunic, trousers, and cape from the closet, Delilah and Menolly quietly withdrew, closing the door behind them. I watched as Trillian slid into the OW clothes. He took on a decidedly magical air as he did so. Sometimes, he seemed to blend in so well over here on Earthside that I forgot just how rich in Fae blood he was. Svartans were actually an offshoot of the elves, from long, long ago, and the two races normally distrusted each other. But the civil war in Y'Elestrial had brought them together on the same side.

"I don't want you to go," I finally said, debating on whether to stand by like a good Guardsman's daughter and cheer on my lover, or to be honest. "I don't want you to die. We need you here, in the fight against the demons." After a pause, I added, "I need you."

Trillian exhaled sharply. "I know. I know you need me, and I know that the demons are a far greater threat than any war back in OW. But trust me, please. I wouldn't go if it weren't terribly important. And important, it is. Camille," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders and staring into my eyes. "Don't try to stop me. Not this time. You'd regret doing so if you knew the reason. And I can't tell you what it is, not yet. All I can say is that you need to let me leave without an argument."

There was something in his words. A warning, a promise… all wrapped into one. I gazed at his face, searching for any clue, but the only thing I could see was myself, reflected in his eyes.

"All right," I heard myself saying. "I won't try to keep you. And I won't ask where you're going. But Trillian, you come back to me. Alive. Please?"

He buried his face in my neck, kissing my skin with his warm, honeyed lips. Muffled by my hair, he said, "I'll be back. I promise. But listen to me," he added, searching my face. For once, his arrogance slid away, leaving raw pain—and love. "If something does happen to me, then tell that lizard that it's up to him to protect you. Morio would die for you, yes, but Smoky can protect you better than he ever could. More… more than I can ever hope to. Do you understand?"