Hunted By the Others

Book 0: H&W Investigations Novel

by Jess Haines

Genres: Shifters; Vampires

Synopsis

In a town full of vampires, mages, and werewolves, detective work can be dangerous: “Dark and sexy . . . a paranormal treat” (Lara Adrian, New York Times–bestselling author).
 
Shiarra Waynest’s job was dangerous enough when her client base was strictly mortal. But ailing finances have forced her to accept a lucrative case that could save her firm—if it doesn’t kill her first. Shiarra has signed on to work for a high-level mage to recover an ancient artifact owned by one of New York’s most powerful vampires.
 
As soon as the detective meets the sexy, mesmerizing vampire Alec Royce, she knows her assignment is even more complicated than she thought. With a clandestine anti-Other group trying to recruit her and magi being eliminated, Shiarra needs backup. She enlists her ex-boyfriend—a werewolf whose non-furry form is disarmingly appealing—and a nerdy mage with surprising talents. But it may not be enough. In a city where the undead roam, magic rules, and even the Others aren’t always what they seem, Shiarra has just become the secret weapon in a battle between good and evil—whether she likes it or not.
 
This fast-moving urban fantasy is “a fun, high octane ride with a take charge heroine who will leave you wanting more” (Alexandra Ivy, New York Times–bestselling author).
 
“Take a sarcastic, likable heroine out of her depth with a mysterious, seductive vampire, add lots of scheming bad guys, and you’ve got a delightful romp of a book.” —Angela Knight, New York Times–bestselling author
 
“Full of litigious vampires, sexy shapeshifters and a mage sidekick akin to Bond’s Q, what more could you want?” —Mark Henry, author of Battle of the Network Zombies
 
“Fresh, hilarious,

Release date: May 1, 2010

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Long, delicate fingers caressed the stem of a wineglass, trailing upward to catch a few small beads of condensation on the glass. Sultry eyes the color of the sky during a summer storm bored into me from across the cloth-covered table, with all of the woman’s not-inconsiderable power of compulsion behind them. I knew what she was trying to do, which didn’t make it any easier to resist.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my gaze away as nonchalantly as I could to look through the bay window beside our table. Staring at the rippling black waters of a little man-made pond, dotted with reflected lights and a single white swan, beat falling into a black enchant by looking into Veronica’s eyes. The bird floated, serene and oblivious, as a laughing young couple threw bits of bread at it to try to lure it closer.

Swans were pretty but vicious if you got too close. Much like my dinner companion.

She was still waiting oh-so-breathlessly for my reply. With a sigh, I dragged my attention off the sights outside and back to the mage, careful not to meet her gaze directly.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t need the money, but I don’t kill vampires for magi. First and foremost, I’m human. I can’t compete with you guys. Second, I’m a private detective, not an assassin. Not to mention that it’s still illegal to kill vamps without a signed warrant.”

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to look into those overbright eyes and change my mind. Hey, I hated vampires as much as the next human, but I wasn’t about to go hunt one down like a crazy person and get myself killed. My job was scary enough as it was without adding angry vampires to the list of stalkers trying to get a piece of my hide to make up for the grief I caused them.

“Shiarra, I’m not asking you to kill him. Just,” Veronica paused, her persuasive tones trailing off into a throaty “hmm” before she continued, “just find out what he’s up to. Detain him if necessary. Find the location of a little trinket for us. My coven will take care of the rest.”

Her cherry lips curved in a smile more predatory than any vamp’s, her pinkish tongue darting out to run suggestively along her upper lip once she noticed that was where my attention was focused. God, I hate magi.

In the back of my mind, I wondered darkly why Jenny, our receptionist-slash-bookkeeper, had set this appointment without checking with me first. Belatedly recalling that she went over the bills with my business partner on a regular basis, I realized she must have decided the need to pay our bills outweighed my likely moral outrage. Under any other circumstances, the moment I found out a potential client was an Other, I walked. Jenny knew this. She also knew that since money was so tight, I’d probably at least agree to hear the mage out.

After finding out what she wanted, though, I was starting to regret agreeing to stay through dinner.

“I know I made the news with that whole Were incident at the Embassy last month, but honestly, that was my first run-in with supernaturals. I don’t have the experience or the equipment to deal with vampires.”

I tried to sound reasonable, though I was afraid I was coming across more testy and frightened. This woman really put me on edge, though I tried to tell myself it was what she was asking me to do, not the aura and crackle of magic surrounding her, that did it. Maybe it had something to do with her coming on to me? Either way, I didn’t like it.

“Frankly, I don’t think you could pay me enough to put my life on the line against a vampire. Shouldn’t you be getting a half-blood? Or another mage to deal with him?”

Little furrows appeared between those perfectly shaped brows of hers. Her hair was a lovely mahogany shade that didn’t quite match the dark brown of those eyebrows, framing her delicate, oval face. I hated that she could pull the look off so effortlessly. My hopelessly curly red hair would never look as sleek and sophisticated as her artfully careless ’do. It was probably spelled to look that way.

“The Ageless would know us for our magic. That wouldn’t work at all. A half-blood would kill first, ask questions later. Same with a Were.” She paused, thinking. “Unless, of course, he killed them first.”

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not really helping your cause here.”

The woman started tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the table, leaning back as she eyed me anew. Something in that look told me wheels were turning and her plans were changing. Uh-oh.

“A human is our only chance. You have no taint of magic, no scent of change on you. You also now have some familiarity with, and have proven yourself capable against, supernaturals.”

For a moment, Veronica’s lip curled faintly in a sneer, venomous but gone almost as soon as it appeared. I would have missed it if I hadn’t been staring at her lips and nose, avoiding looking directly into her eyes. Her features resumed that intent predatory look that told me she was only barely hiding her contempt for the lowly pure-blood human, doing what she could to put me on edge. Sadly, it was working.

“As I said, we do not want him dead, just watched. You can get close without fear of injury, since he has plenty of willing donors and is known for his restraint. The worst that could happen is you being banned from his places of business.”

It was my turn to tap my nails. “Aside from an abrupt, painful death, that is the worst thing that could happen to me. Alec Royce owns half the nightclubs and restaurants in the city. Those are the places I go to track my marks.”

I glanced at my watch in an effort to give her the hint that I wasn’t going to stick around much longer for this crazy talk, even if she was picking up the tab.

She gave an overly dramatic sigh, no longer hiding her annoyance. She dropped the sickly sweet tones she’d been affecting and finally put a cap on the damn aura she’d been exuding since this dinner started. No wonder the waiter hadn’t come to refill our glasses in almost an hour.

“Shiarra Waynest, you forget yourself. The other half of the city belongs to The Circle, and we are more than prepared to compensate you. Fifty thousand, plus expenses, and an extra ten thousand if you find what we’re looking for. Five thousand up front, and your pick of equipment from The Circle’s own security vaults. We’ll give you protection, and more work if you do well at this job.”

I sat back, speechless. Five grand to start? My usual take only came out to two thousand, sometimes up to four if it the job was tricky or somewhat dangerous. Plus equipment? Expenses? Maybe this really was a godsend in disguise. I wondered if she might know that I had debt up to my ears and a car payment that was killing me. Plus I think my PI license was about due for renewal, and let’s not forget taxes coming just around the bend. Mental note: get Jenny a very, very nice thank-you card and a bonus.

Taking my stunned silence as a bad sign, Veronica narrowed her eyes and threw another bone on the table. “Is that too little? Fine, make it ten if you get the information, and another twenty if you find the location of the artifact.”

Lifting my napkin up to my mouth to hide the fact that I couldn’t snap my jaw shut, I took just a moment to close my eyes, take a breath, and remind myself that I’d be walking right into a death trap if I took this job. I thought bleakly about the stack of bills that seemed to grow larger every day. Most unsettling was the one from my landlord that had appeared in my mailbox a few days back. I hadn’t quite been able to bring myself to open it yet. My cut of the deposit for this job would be enough to cover the demands of my landlord, and maybe a few of the other creditors demanding a good chunk of my income.

“Well?”

Though I couldn’t help but feel I was betraying something inside myself, something important, I gave her the words she wanted to hear, however grudgingly. “I’ll do it. What is it I’m looking for?”

Veronica leaned back in her chair and smiled grimly, a sly light in her eyes. I really hoped I would live long enough to regret this.

The next morning, my partner stared at me in shock over the scarred and pitted kitchen table in the tiny break room of our office, coffee mug paused inches from her lips. Sara Halloway blinked as if trying to clear her vision—to make sure she was really seeing what was in front of her.

“Run that by me one more time. Slowly.”

I rubbed a hand down my face, groaning as I tried to figure out how to explain my reasoning to her without sounding like I’d finally gone off the deep end.

“I know. I can’t believe I took the job either.”

I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and carefully smoothed out the crumpled check on the table, staring down at the five grand under my fingertips so I wouldn’t have to face Sara’s disbelief. I had enough of my own.

“What is it you’re supposed to be looking for exactly? You know it’s got to be dangerous if they’re paying so much.”

“Paying so much? This is a drop in the bucket to The Circle.”

Shaking my head, I brushed a few loose tendrils out of my eyes before reaching for my own coffee on the table. “Anytime a vampire or spark is involved, it’s dangerous. You mean more dangerous than that? Sure, I’m positive whatever it is will get me killed if I don’t watch my back. It may be worth the risk. I can always back out if things get too hairy.”

She made a rude noise, but at least she wasn’t giving me grief for my little racial epithet, calling the mage a spark.

“It’s part of the arrangement. I can keep the nonrefundable deposit on my services.” I flicked a few fingers, while carefully cradling the coffee mug, to point to the check. “I can end the contract at any time at my discretion if it looks like my life is on the line. Veronica e-mailed me the paperwork right after dinner. I looked it over last night; it’s clear and concise, and damned if it isn’t actually a fair deal.”

Sara’s clear blue eyes narrowed, thoughtful rather than annoyed. “What equipment are they going to give you? Did she say?”

I shrugged. I had plenty of my own equipment, so it was doubtful I’d be using any of The Circle’s stuff anyway.

“No, not really. Just ‘my pick of the security vaults’—whatever that means.”

Her soft harrumph was reassuring. That meant she was mulling it over and wouldn’t bug me about it too much more until she had a chance to work it out in her own head. Maybe she was starting to see the same twisted sense in the plan that I had.

Pressing on, I added, “Honestly, it doesn’t seem that dangerous a job. All she asked me to do was find out what I could about some artifact.”

The speculative look returned. “Did she tell you anything about it?”

I nodded. “A little. She showed me a picture. It’s a black stone about the size of a man’s fist, carved into a lizard-bat thing. Little rubies for eyes. Older than dirt, powerful, priceless, blah blah blah.”

Sara narrowed her eyes again, only this time in that dangerous don’t-even-try-me look. “Elaborate on that blah, blah, blah thing.”

“She didn’t tell me what it’s for or what it can do. She did say I’ll have to get my way into Royce’s good graces to find out more about it. Including where it might be hidden.”

A look of horror crossed her face. It would’ve been comical if my own face hadn’t mirrored her expression last night when I’d come to the same conclusion she just did. “You mean you’ll have to talk to the leech directly? Face to face? You’re crazy!”

“Not that crazy.” I tried to keep from showing outward signs of the sudden fear-induced surge of adrenaline her words gave me. “Reporters interview him all the time with no problems. He frequently makes appearances at his nightclubs and restaurants. There’s never been any kind of incident except last year when that White Hat tried to stake him at the opening of his new restaurant, La Petite Boisson. Remember that?”

Wow, go me. My voice didn’t crack or quiver even once getting all that out.

She chuckled, her crystalline blue eyes glinting with mirth. “Oh yes, I think I do. The one who knocked the mayor’s wife into the punchbowl, right?”

I smiled back, losing some tension. “That’s the one. Everything went backward for the White Hats after that. Poor, misjudged, minority vampires…”

“Yeah, I think she even kissed him on the cheek after for helping her up and making light of the whole thing. The tabloids loved it.” Sara’s expression hardened, and I braced myself for what I knew was coming next. “You know he’s still dangerous. I mean, Christ. Come on. A vampire?” An ominous, suspicious pause. “How exactly were you planning on meeting him anyway?”

I couldn’t help but redden a bit under her scrutiny. It doesn’t help that I blush easily with my pale skin, but the topic was making me more uncomfortable by the moment. “I was going to go in as a restaurant and nightclub guide reviewer or journalist. There’s a whole calendar of events on his website on when he makes appearances at his clubs. I figured it would be the best way to go in and get a chance to talk with him.”

She shook her head, frowning. I was about to protest, but she cut me off. “That will never work. He’s got press agents and marketing people to deal with the journalists. Not to mention his security. They’d spot you coming a mile away since you work that beat, and you’re more high profile after that thing at the Embassy. You may not have noticed since they usually leave us alone when we’re in his clubs, but that’s only because we generally don’t hassle the clientele.”

It was my turn to frown, more in consternation than anything. I’d thought the journalism thing was a stroke of genius on my part. “What do you suggest?”

She grinned at me in a way that suggested I really wasn’t going to like her idea. “Go exactly as you are. No pretenses.”

An incredulous laugh burst from my lips. “Are you kidding me? First, he’d laugh in my face before banning me. Second, what in the nine hells makes you think he’ll actually talk to me if I go now versus the other few hundred times I’ve visited his clubs?”

“Shia, don’t doubt me.” That know-it-all look somehow managed to get even more smug. “I know exactly how to do it.”

The rest of the day seemed to take an age to creep by. I was inundated with paperwork to fill out from the last couple of runs I had done, so that kept me busy until a little past lunch. Afterward, Jenny wanted to crunch some numbers with me.

I usually let Sara do all of that, but she left after lunch to go do some recon on her latest mark, a charmingly lecherous teenager who’d run off from his parents about three weeks before. It wasn’t the first time he’d run away, but it was the first time he’d done it with a vamp. That the parents knew of. Seeing as how the parents were rabid White Hats (card carrying, with little antivampire legislation pamphlets they carried in their pockets—I kid you not) and the teen was a Goth, judging from his picture, this was neither surprising nor entirely unexpected. At least for Sara and me.

Since the boy was nineteen (and the parents were psychotic), the police didn’t give much of a hoot that he’d gone missing. They’d gone through the motions of searching after the missing persons report was filed, but that basically just meant an APB went out, some flyers were posted, and that’s about it. So now the kindly Mr. and Mrs. Borowsky waited until the trail was almost cold to set us on his tail.

Hence Sara’s bright idea for how I could meet Royce. I go in, ask around after the kid, ask for the management and whatnot. After all, he was the most influential vampire in the city. Almost every bloodsucker for three states had to clear their movements, purchases, political aspirations, and most important, who they “turned,” through Royce. If nothing else, he might at least be able to point the way to the sire of the vamp who ran off with the teen.

So now I had a perfectly legitimate reason to talk to him. The idea didn’t make me feel any better about it.

“Shia? Did you hear what I just said?”

Whoops. “Sorry, Jen, what’s that?” It took a real effort to actually concentrate on the figures in front of my eyes. I hate bookkeeping. Hate, hate, hate it.

“I was saying that two of our permits are due for renewal next week, and even with what you brought in on that deposit, we’re going to run shy unless we skip part of the rent or insurance payment. We’re really in the red here.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Jenny sighed, turned, and pointed to the computer screen across the desk, jabbing a finger at a couple of figures on a spreadsheet column.

“See this? Between what you pay me, gas, electricity, and a few other things, we’re running at a loss. Hasn’t Sara been over this with you?”

I shook my head, ire rising. “How long have you known this? When did you first let Sara know?”

“After we almost failed to pay the rent about seven months ago. I don’t know how, but Ms. Halloway…” Oh God. If she was calling Sara “Ms. Halloway,” we were really screwed. “…dug up the money from somewhere and saved the day. She’s managed to scrape us out of a tough spot a couple of times. I’m sorry, I would’ve mentioned something sooner, but I thought you knew.”

Which meant Sara was dipping into her coffers to keep us afloat. Great.

One of the benefits to working with Miss Sara Jane Halloway was that her parents had been very successful in their investments in stocks and real estate before they were killed in a horrific accident—a drunk driver on the interstate who careened into theirs and three or four other cars—three years earlier. Sara and her younger sister, Janine, split the estate; it left both of them very, very wealthy.

It cheesed off Janine and the surviving relatives that, instead of carrying on the family tradition in real estate, Sara had partnered with me in this private investigations venture. Janine hadn’t taken up real estate either, but for some reason she expected Sara to pick up the slack and run everything.

Though she’ll never admit to it, I’m almost positive that pissing off her family was why Sara did it.

We first met five years ago in college; I was working on a degree in criminal justice, she was halfheartedly pursuing a joint business and corporate law degree. I was frantic to keep my grades up so I wouldn’t lose my scholarship. She was considering dropping out and taking an extended vacation in the Hamptons.

Since we had a few classes together, I helped her out and urged her to at least finish up the term. By the end of the following year, we both had our degrees and had cemented a friendship. I met her parents a handful of times when she invited me along to parties or other outings at one or another of her family’s properties. The parents were nice enough but the rest of her relatives kind of left me cold, especially the neurotic, whining Janine.

More often, I invited her over to my parents’ place—a little ramshackle house on a hill overlooking the Sound. It was tiny compared to what she was used to, but the warmth and affection my Irish-Catholic family showed her made her far more interested in going to my clan’s gatherings than her own.

While I loved it that Sara helped finance the start-up of this crazy idea of mine, I told her all along that if it didn’t look like we were going to make it financially, we’d have to just sell the biz and start something fresh. I didn’t want to be a burden or a freeloader. I hate being indebted to people.

She protested and bitched about it a bit, but in the end we came to terms. I even paid back most of my half of the start-up money she’d fronted me. A couple more takes like my latest and I’d have the balance paid off in no time.

I really didn’t relish the idea of selling the business, but I also didn’t want it to be said that I was a hanger-on to Sara for her money. I got enough of that back in school. Plus, with two successful brothers, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of letting on to my parents that my biz was a failure. They already gave me enough crap for being a PI instead of a lawyer like Mike. My mom was fond of dishing that one out, along with the whole don’t-you-think-it’s-about-time-you-settle-downand-pop-out-a-few-grandkids-for-me speech. Sara gave me hell for that, laughing about it and bringing it up every few days for weeks afterward.

Rather than keep Jenny waiting, I took a breath to get some semblance of control over my temper and told her not to worry. “I’ll go over the numbers with Sara when she gets back. Look, it’s Friday. Why don’t you go ahead and take off. I’ve got to go get ready for tonight anyway; I’ll just wrap up here and lock up.”

Behind her glasses, her brown eyes held a hint of sympathy, though I had the feeling she’d head straight home and start posting her résumé all over the Internet. She was probably convinced we were going under. But between Sara’s generosity and my latest contract, I was sure we’d be able to pull out of this mess just fine.

So why did the whole situation still rankle so much with me?

“I heard you took a job doing something with that vampire who owns all those nightclubs. The one who’s in the news all the time. Is that right?”

I grimaced and nodded, avoiding her questioning gaze.

“Be careful, Shia. Those things are dangerous.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I don’t plan on doing any more than asking a few questions and leaving. They give me the creeps.”

She put a hand on my arm, surprising me with her serious expression and the touch of worry in her voice. “I’m not kidding, Shia. My cousin died about two years ago while she was dating one of those—those things. Those monsters.”

My eyes widened and after a moment I remembered to close my open mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shook her head, not quite looking at me now. Her voice grew into a quiet, broken whisper, and terror gleamed in her soft brown eyes. “It was a couple of months before I started working here. Shia, you need to know this. You need to be careful. The coroner—he said it took her hours to die, bleeding out like that.. . .