The rabbit backed up. "Please, my lady. Balaam has a legion of imps scouring every dimension for you. He is most eager to speak to you."
"Is he? And what could my lord demon father want from me?" She gasped in feigned surprise. "Wait . . . Does it have something to do with this big reveal I've been hearing about?"
"Yes, yes!" The rabbit thumped a back leg with excitement. "You have heard of the glorious plan, then? After centuries of hiding, supernaturals have finally found the willpower to reveal themselves and take their rightful place as rulers of the human world."
"About time."
The rabbit leaped up. "I knew you would agree. You will help your father, yes? You will join the fight here and you will persuade your earthbound daughter to do the same."
"Savannah?" Eve tried to keep her voice calm.
"Of course. She is a mighty spellcaster. Mighty indeed. And very well connected in the supernatural world. Lord Balaam has approached her himself, but she has refused his generous offer."
"Balaam went near my--" Eve stopped short as her sword glowed blue, infused with her fury. But the rabbit-imp didn't seem to notice. She took a deep, steadying breath. "Foolish girl. Of course I'll speak to her. She listens to her mother. First, though, you'll need to tell me everything you know about my father's plans so I can properly explain them to her."
The rabbit told her everything and she thanked it most graciously . . . then lopped off its head, which flew into the hall at the very moment the houseboat door opened. A tall, broad-shouldered figure filled the doorway. As Kristof Nast stepped in, the rabbit's head bounced off his polished Italian loafers.
"Eve?" he said, peering at his feet as she walked into the main cabin. Then he saw her and smiled. "If there are decapitated rabbit heads flying, there's only one explanation. Eve is back." He stopped as he saw her expression. "What's wrong?"
"It's Savannah," she said. "She's in trouble. Well, bigger trouble. We need to--"
Light flashed. Kristof disappeared. The houseboat evaporated and Eve found herself in another dimension, surrounded by misshapen beasts, Trsiel at her side, her sword still in hand.
"Oh, hell," she muttered as the beasts charged.
ONE
I led my half brother
Bryce away from the rubble of the exploded lab, ignoring his protests, and ignoring Adam, who was sticking close and wincing every time Bryce coughed. I couldn't blame Adam for worrying. The Supernatural Liberation Movement had injected Bryce with something called a "vaccine against mortality," which sounded lovely, until you figured out that meant it contained DNA from vampires, zombies, and god only knows what other creatures the gang had rounded up for their experiments.
So I really didn't want to catch whatever Bryce had either. Before we'd escaped, the woman who'd injected him had suggested it was transmittable. I had to trust they weren't crazy enough to make it easily transmittable. And if they were? Well then, I was already screwed. The only way out of the lab had been to drop into a pit of water connected to an underground sewer. Bryce was so weak he'd almost drowned and I'd had to help him. I'd stopped short of giving him mouth-to-mouth when he woke on his own, but we'd had plenty of contact. So I could be infected. But that was a concern for later. Right now, I was just happy to have survived, especially when the whole place had come down on our heads as the liberation movement blew up their own lab.
I'd never been so glad to be tramping--wet, smelly and dirty--down a New Orleans alleyway. Or to see Jeremy Danvers, the werewolf Alpha, or Jaime Vegas, his necromancer girlfriend. Or Adam. Most of all Adam.
Bryce might be my half brother, but I've known Adam since I was twelve. Bryce? Well, let's just say we aren't close.
"We'll turn onto the road up here," Jeremy said. He was scouting the way, limping from the blast. "We should be far enough from--"
He stopped and tilted his head, werewolf hearing picking up something we couldn't. When he frowned, Adam moved up beside him and whispered, "Trouble?"
"I can hear a police radio. They're looking for two men and a woman seen leaving the blast site."
"Two guys covered in dust and bruises?" Adam said. "And a girl who looks like she went swimming in a sewer?"
Jeremy nodded.
I looked down at my soaked clothing. The only unscathed one was Jaime, who'd been blocks away when the building went up.
Jeremy said, "Anita Barrington set off an alarm, meaning there will be members of the reveal movement looking for all of us. You're going to need to hole up until Jaime finds us clean clothing. I'll go with her while she does."
"I'll be--" Jaime began, then cut herself short. As a necromancer, she had no innate defensive skills. As a forty-seven-year-old on the celebrity circuit, she didn't have any acquired ones either: All she usually had to deal with were hecklers. "I need backup, but I don't think it should be you," she finally said to Jeremy. "Bryce needs a guard with superhearing and superstrength. I just need someone to watch my back. Savannah can do that. She isn't battered and bruised. Her jeans are black and won't look wet from a distance."
Jaime gave me her jacket--a cute leather one that we'd bought on a trip to Milan. It was a little short--she's five-five and I'm nearly seven inches taller--so on me it looked fashionably cropped. With the help of her brush and scarf, we tied my wet hair back and I stopped looking like a drowned rat, even if my sneakers sloshed with every step.
We found the guys a quiet spot to wait. Then we set off.
The Supernatural Liberation Movement. I gave them a vowel and called them SLAM. Their mission was to reveal the existence of supernaturals to the human world. There was a very good reason we hadn't done this already--because it was stupid. Every time the world found out about us, heads rolled--our heads. Even if we could argue that this wasn't the Middle Ages anymore, we weren't just different in gender, skin color, religion, sexual orientation, or any other equality issue. We had powers. Often deadly powers that gave us an advantage over humans. You can bet your ass we wouldn't be welcomed with open arms . . . except maybe by military research facilities.