DOUBLE DEAD

A NIGHT TRACKER NOVELLA

Cheyenne McCray

DEDICATION

To Daniel. All I can say is thank God for you.

Welcome to New York City’s Underworld

PRESENT DAY

   	Dark Elves/Drow: We rock.
 	Demons: I am so through with Demons.
 	Dopplers: Paranorms who can shift into one specific animal as well as into their human form.
 	Fae: Should have paid attention during our last case if you wanted to know all of the different races.
 	Gargoyles: Freaking ugly. And dangerous.
 	Incubis: No Adonis could begin to compare to these paranorms. Stay. Away.
 	Light Elves: Mirror, mirror, how art we better than all?
 	Metamorphs: Slimy paranorms who can take on the persona and appearance of any human and almost any paranorm. And not in a good way. Metamorphs have no redeeming qualities. None.
 	Necromancers: Exactly what you think. They talk to and raise the dead. Creeeeepy.
 	Shadow Shifters: Paranorms with the ability to shift from human form into shadows.
 	Shifters: Can transform into any animal of their choosing as well as take their human form.
 	Succubis: Promise sex good enough to sell your soul for. One word: don’t.
 	Vampires: There’s something with these guys that we’re missing.…
 	Werewolves: Can take wolf form almost any time, but at the full moon they go nuclear.
 	Zombies: I do not want to talk about Zombies. You can’t make me.
   	
CHAPTER 1

   	Like a metal ball in one of those old pinball machines Rodán kept at the nightclub, the earth spun. Whirled. Bounced. Pinged. Every time I thought I would rush down into oblivion, something hard would smack me back into a spinning orbit.
 	What was happening to me?
 	I couldn’t think clearly. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning like that metal ball. Where was I? Why did I feel like that tiny pinball had smashed me like a wrecking ball? My whole body was one big mass of pain. I felt fluid trickling from my nose and over my lips, and tasted blood.
 	“Look at me, Tracker.” At the sound of the male’s voice I started. Could a voice be hard and cold, yet amused at the same time? Apparently it could. “Now, Tracker.”
 	I opened my eyes and tried to focus on what I saw in front of me. The images of three human males were wavering and trying to merge into one. Finally they became one and my head spun a little less. The male was dressed like an NYPD officer, and he was holding a baton streaked with blood. My blood.
 	The smell of alyssum, like newly mown hay, meant there was a Metamorph close. The strength of the smell told me there was more than one. At least two, maybe three. Despite my muddled state, I was pretty sure the male I was staring at was a Metamorph. Or rather I was looking at the reflection of the human whose appearance the Metamorph had taken.
 	“Thought I’d get the beating out of the way.” The male snapped his baton, then returned it to its place on his duty belt. “You’ll be less likely to draw out a game that you’ll lose … Nyx of the Dark Elves and Night Tracker.”
 	Connect the dots, Nyx.
 	I knew I was in my human form because I sensed it was still daylight and I felt the differences in my body. How did the Metamorphs know how to find me during the day or even know that I was a Night Tracker?
 	Night Trackers patrolled their territories to make sure scum like Metamorphs who broke the laws were eliminated or taken off the street and put into the detention center. The Metamorph’s or other paranorm’s punishment depended on the severity of the crime.
 	Then bits and pieces of memory came back to me as my thoughts began to clear. Chills rolled through my body.
 	I’d been waiting in my apartment for Adam to drop by for a little afternoon recreation. But when he got there, something had seemed wrong, out of place. I’d been so excited to see Adam, thinking about his adorable tousled hair and his boyish smile, that at first I didn’t notice that he didn’t smell of coffee and leather like usual.
 	Without bothering to close the door, he grabbed me to him and kissed me—
 	He’d tasted like grass. Dry, dust-coated grass.
 	Not Adam. Not Adam!
 	I stared at the man while thoughts of how they had captured me flashed through my mind. My stomach churned.
 	When he kissed me, my first reaction had been to jerk away from the being that was not my Adam. I wanted to puke from kissing what I realized was a Metamorph.
 	Realized too late.
 	He had a gun to my temple before I could blink. The gun didn’t faze me. Even in my human form I could have taken out a single Metamorph.
 	Eight more Metamorphs rushed through the open doorway. In my Drow form, with my Drow strength, my dragon-clawed daggers, and my elemental magic, I could have taken on all of them. Even in my human form I would have been hard to beat.
 	Right now I wanted to shake my head, shake off the memory. But my head hurt too much to move it. Metamorphs had gotten me. Metamorphs.
 	They’d caught me completely off guard, everything amplified by my shock and revulsion because I’d just kissed a being who was not Adam. A disgusting Metamorph. The fact that the being had managed to get that close to me, without my realizing what he really was, had added to the shock.
 	Before I’d been able to call the air to aid me, one of the Metamorphs slapped a cloth over my nose. That was the last thing I remembered before this moment.
 	The fog in my mind started to clear. Thoughts of how I’d been captured and what was happening now raced through my head so fast that I was almost dizzy from them. What were the Metamorphs doing? What did they want? Where was Adam?
 	I glared at the Metamorph. I wanted my hands around him in front of me so badly I could almost feel myself squeezing his neck. Feel it snapping. I attempted to lunge forward but my arms jerked against chains and metal cuffs bit into my wrists. The legs of the chair I was in scraped the floor as I struggled. I snarled and tried to lash out with my feet. They wouldn’t move. Metal ankle cuffs dug into my skin.
 	When I looked down at my shackled ankles, my long, tangled black hair fell over my eyes. Blood dripped from my nose onto my Dior pale cream blouse and slacks. My clothing was torn, bloody, filthy. My Pradas were missing, leaving my feet bare.
 	When I fisted my hands, the tension caused me to fully take in the fact that they’d beaten me while I was out cold.
 	The elements. I could take care of this whole situation and be done with it. A small cyclone would do.
 	My first shot at controlling the elements told me that the handcuffs that bound me were treated with elemental magic. My second attempt just reaffirmed that fact.
 	The specially made cuffs weren’t supposed to affect Trackers. They’d all been altered to recognize every Tracker in New York City so that our magic wouldn’t be affected. How had these Metamorphs been able to contain me? I couldn’t use the elements at all.
 	I frowned in concentration. Maybe I had to shift into my Drow half before the cuffs would have no effect on me and I could use my elements again. I was Nyx Ciar, paranorm PI during the day. After sundown I would be Nyx of the Night Trackers.
 	It wouldn’t be long now, though. I sensed that nightfall would be soon—none of them would be getting out of this place alive once I was through with them.
 	My hair was in my eyes and stuck to the blood on my cheeks when I raised my head.
 	Instead of some windowless interrogation room, we were in a large kitchen with peeling wallpaper and cracked and chipped laminated flooring. I was sitting in the middle of the cramped space. A dining table was shoved against one wall along with three brown wooden chairs, the varnish darkened with age and worn in places. Apparently I was in chair number four.
 	I almost smiled when I saw the stove three feet away on my right and the sink two and a half feet away on my left. Fire. Water.
 	If I could get out of these cuffs I’d be able to use the elements of fire and water and either toast or drown these creeps.
 	I was leaning toward the idea of toasting them.
 	“Hello, Tracker filth.” The male crouched in front of me. Instantly, from his powerful alyssum smell, I knew that he was a Metamorph. “I’m Tom Smith. I’m going to let you watch me cut your boyfriend into itty-bitty pieces.”
 	Fear for Adam along with instinct drove me to try to lunge for Smith’s throat. The chair rocked but I wanted to scream with rage as my bindings held me fast.
 	“Underworld sloth.” I glared at the Metamorph. “The pieces I cut off of you won’t be so tiny if you dare hurt him.”
 	Smith slapped my bruised face so hard that my head snapped to the side. The pain caused by gritting my teeth, to not cry out, was worth it as I turned slowly to glare at him again.
 	He scowled as he wiped his palm on his black jeans. “Detective Adam Boyd’s life is getting shorter every minute you mess with me, Tracker.”
 	“What. Do. You. Want?” My face hurt as I hurled each word at the Metamorph.
 	“I was misinformed about the whereabouts of tonight’s Paranorm Council meeting.” His question surprised me enough to cause me to blink. “The council gathers at sundown and my men are ready to greet them on my order.”
 	“What do Metamorphs care about the Paranorm Council?” Disgust edged every word I spoke. “Metamorphs don’t even have a representative.”
 	By the way his hands shook, I was pretty sure Smith was holding back his anger, trying to control himself this time. “That will change.”
 	“Yeah, right.” I gave a hollow laugh. “Like that’s going to happen.”
 	He lost a good portion of that control and slapped the side of my head so hard my ear rang from the force of it. “Tell me now or you die, Tracker. So does your boyfriend.”
 	I had to stall somehow. If I could keep him busy until sundown I would likely get my powers back. “How do you know if I’m a Tracker or not?”
 	“We have informants.” Smith gave a casual shrug. “We know you are a human PI for the paranormal world during the day. By night you become a Tracker.”
 	I narrowed my gaze. “Why me?”
 	“You are one of the very few paranorms who can come out in daylight.” He grinned. “And you’re predictable.”
 	Predictable? As a PI, maybe I was. That was going to have to change.
 	I said nothing, just stared at him. I didn’t know if he was bluffing about Adam, so I had to call his bluff. I almost groaned when he drew out his baton and snapped it to its full length.
 	“Carl.” Smith looked up, somewhere over my shoulder, and made a slight motion with his head. By the smell of alyssum, I knew it was another Metamorph who moved in front of me. Also dressed in an NYPD uniform, “Carl” looked and walked like a flesh-and-bone version of Robocop. Built like a muscle-bound weight lifter, he was slow to move. “Get Detective Boyd,” Smith said.
 	My heart pounded and my body radiated with tension. The bulky Metamorph headed through an archway of the place we were in, his boot steps loud against the tile floor before the sound finally faded.
 	Steps, sounding like high heels, came from the other side of the archway just moments after the Robocop Metamorph left. I continued to stare at the archway, and another Metamorph walked in.
 	With rich waves of mahogany brown hair and big gray eyes, this Metamorph was gorgeous—or at least the replica of the human or paranorm she mirrored was. And she knew how to dress. I’d give up my XPhone if she wasn’t tottering in Ferragamo pumps and carrying a matching satchel.
 	Despite her sophisticated, beautiful looks, the fake innocence in her eyes and her pouty lips made her look like a spoiled, pampered brat.
 	“Becky.” Smith went to the woman and hugged her in a way that made their relationship obvious. He kissed her before he pinched her ass cheek through the fine organza of her dress.
 	“Have I missed anything?” she said in a voice so squeaky it caused me to wince.
 	Footsteps again, only this time I heard two pairs—one stepping purposefully, the other shuffling unsteadily. I glanced back at the archway in time to see the muscle-bound Metamorph shove Adam into the room. The man I loved was shirtless, his body and face bloody and bruised.
 	Adam collapsed face-first on the tile.
 	And didn’t move.

CHAPTER 2

   	“Adam!” His name cut the air in an involuntary shout. I couldn’t have stopped myself from calling out to my lover if I’d tried.
 	I lunged against my bonds again and this time I nearly toppled my chair. Smith grabbed a spindle of the chair and kept me from pitching forward.
 	My breath burned harsh and heavy in my chest. “You might as well start thinking up your last words.” I turned my glare to Smith as I spoke with slow, deliberate malice. “You don’t have very many left.”
 	Almost imperceptible fear glittered in his black eyes before he laughed. A forced laugh that almost made me smile. He was scared of me, and I had to give him credit for not being stupid enough to make the mistake of totally disregarding what I might be capable of.
 	Adam groaned, and a tempest of emotions whirled through me as I swung my attention in his direction: relief that he was alive, followed by anger that he’d been hurt so badly, shifting into fear as Robocop Carl aimed a handgun at Adam’s head.
 	“It is a very important council meeting tonight.” Smith crouched so that he was eye level with me. “What location has the meeting been changed to?”
 	A trickle of blood rolled down the column of my throat from an open wound on the side of my head. “What are you going to do?”
 	Smith scowled. “What do you care, Tracker? You treat all Metamorphs like scum.”
 	I pulled against my bonds so that my body was a fraction closer to him. He looked like he wanted to shrink back. “You’re so slimy the only thing you’re good for is greasing machinery. But you’d screw that up, too.”
 	The Metamorph’s complexion turned a really odd shade of taupe. Smith unsheathed a dagger from his cop duty belt. The sharp edge gleamed in the kitchen light. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head back so that I was looking at the ceiling, which was yellowed and dirty from years of cooking in a cramped space.
 	“Tell me, or we can use the human cop’s brains to grease the floor.” Smith bared his teeth in a freakish smile as he leaned over me, blocking my view of the ceiling. I felt the cold, sharp edge of the dagger’s blade as he pressed it against my throat. “Where has the meeting been moved to?”
 	I didn’t dare swallow, knowing the blade would slice into my throat. The feeling of helplessness I experienced was not one I’d faced often. I heard a round being chambered in a handgun, and my heart started pounding hard enough that the sound of it throbbed in my ears.
 	“Now, Tracker.” Smith jerked my hair harder. “Tell me, or that’s it for both you and your human playtoy. After all, that’s what the human is to you, isn’t he?”
 	Sundown was approaching and I would be shifting within twenty minutes. I couldn’t think of any way to stall without getting myself or Adam killed. I’d just have to take care of the problem then. But for now what choice did I have?
 	“It’s still at the Paranorm Center near the northern end of Conservatory Water.” I couldn’t help swallowing and gasped as the dagger bit into my flesh. “Below the Alice in Wonderland unbirthday party sculpture.”
 	The Metamorph narrowed his gaze but released his grip on my hair. “We were told the location had changed.”
 	“It was a ruse.” I raised my head as he backed up. “There were rumors that some kind of interruption might happen, but the council members didn’t want to move the meeting. So to make sure no one would try to barge in, they put out the word it had changed.”
 	My gut churned as I glanced at Adam and he groaned and rolled onto his side. Carl still held his gun with its sights aimed right at him.
 	I didn’t feel my own aches and pains. Instead it was as if I felt every bruise on Adam’s body as I stared at him.
 	“I actually believe you.” Smith turned and walked away from me. He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Now to put my plan into action.
 	“Metamorphs won’t be screwed around with anymore.” Smith drew a Glock from his cop’s duty belt and aimed it at Adam’s head. “And I’m finished screwing with you, Tracker.” Smith leveled his gaze on Adam. “If you lied to me, here’s what will happen to your friend DeSantos.”
 	“Olivia?” I said, but then my mind spun as Smith’s aim followed Adam’s movements as my lover shifted and groaned again.
 	Smith squeezed the trigger.
 	A loud report echoed in the kitchen.
 	I screamed.
 	Blood splattered the kitchen walls.
 	Horror and shock made my head spin as Adam’s body slumped facedown in a lifeless mass on the floor.
 	“You—” I gagged on useless words as I stared at Adam’s body. In my mind spun thoughts of You promised and You lied. Stupid, worthless words.
 	“Have your fun, Carl,” I heard Smith say, but his words were muffled by the emotions flaring in my mind.
 	Fury grew inside me along with the pain I felt at Adam’s murder. The feelings were so great, so intense, that for a moment I thought I might be able to break free of the elemental cuffs now and make Smith pay for what he’d done.
 	I fought my bonds and snarled as I turned to look back at Smith. He was gone.
 	“Aw.” The female Metamorph, Becky, moved toward me like a sleek cat. Her high-pitched little girl voice made me want to strangle her. “Did your human playtoy go bye-bye?”
 	The Drow curse words I let rip the air would have cut her to pieces if they had been knives.
 	“Tom is a brilliant male.” Becky smiled as she toyed with a heart charm bracelet on her slim wrist. “After tonight, not only will Metamorphs have a place on the council, but Tom will be elected by the council as chief.”
 	“Have you taken your delusional pill?” I said as I stared at her. “Because you’re not in any existing reality.”
 	“His plan is perfect.” She maintained her amused smile. “All he needed to know was the exact location before sundown because everyone is ready to play their part.”
 	For now I had to ignore what had happened to Adam and try to figure out what was going on so that I could stop the Metamorphs. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. “Play what parts?” I asked.
 	Becky sat on one of the chairs near me and crossed her legs at her knees. “As each council member arrives at the entrance to the Paranorm Center, a Metamorph will be waiting to take his or her place. The only one who won’t be replaced will be the chief. She’s needed to conduct the meeting and to report our victory afterward, you see.”
 	Robocop Carl looked nervous. “Miss Becky—”
 	The female waved him off. “The council guards will also be replaced. Counsel Chief Leticia and the Dryads will never know the difference.”
 	Chills turned into goose bumps that prickled my skin. “Then what?” I asked very slowly.
 	She gave a delicate shrug. “The meeting will be held and votes will be cast as to whether to allow Metamorphs on the council. The meeting was already set to include determining whether or not Witches can be represented on the council. Allowing Metamorphs on will be like letting the Witches have a representative.” She gave a triumphant grin. “It’s a perfect plan.”
 	“Why do Metamorphs even care?” I asked. “Metamorphs have never been interested in or adhered to paranorm rules.”
 	I was already thinking she was one eraser short of a pencil, and that was made even more clear by the giddy expression on her face. “Respect!” She punctuated the word as she pointed at me, and I winced from the shrillness of her voice, which grated on me like gravel beneath the tires of my ’Vette. “And we want Trackers to back off. When the replacement council votes that we are not to be touched, nothing can stop us from taking over human lives.” She stroked her Ferragamo purse. “Like those of the wealthiest men in the city. We can mirror anyone and take over his life.”
 	“And kill the real human,” I said, disgust filling me. “Then not only are you leeches but you are murderers, too.”
 	Then my eyes widened and my jaw dropped. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me earlier. Shock, incredulity over the whole situation—it didn’t matter. “You’re going to kill the real council members, aren’t you?” I said it with disbelief, yet with the realization that my conclusion was true.
 	“Took you that long to figure it out?” Becky laughed as she stood and looked at Robocop Carl. “Tom did say you could have your fun with her.”
 	Carl grinned at me in a way that made my stomach curdle.
 	It was then that I sensed the sun was going down.
 	And Robo-Carl was going down.
 	Becky would be taken care of, too.
 	Then it would be Smith’s turn.
 	As I sensed the sun disappearing and the city become immersed in the night, the cuffs fell away from my ankles and wrists. The clatter on the floor startled Carl, who aimed his Glock at me. Becky stumbled back in her high heels.
 	The sleeves of my blouse tightened slightly around my arms and at my shoulders as my body grew stronger and the muscles in my slender arms became more defined. I wished I had my leather fighting suit as I rose from my chair. I ripped the sleeves from my shirt so that my arms were bare and less constricted.
 	My body continued to transform into my Drow appearance as I jerked each sleeve off. Expressions of shock and panic were on their faces as my once fair skin turned into a faint shade of amethyst. The tangled hair I pushed away from my face was cobalt blue now instead of black. My incisors lengthened into petite fangs.
 	Every ache and pain from the beatings vanished as my body healed during the transformation.
 	Fury built within me, and now I fed it with my elements. The room began to shake, windowpanes rattling as the earth beneath the building started to buck. Kitchen cupboard doors slammed open and closed. Ceramic plates, bowls, mugs, flew off shelves and smashed to shards on the aged linoleum.
 	Drawers rolled in and out. One drawer filled with silverware spilled every knife, fork, and spoon onto the floor. They rattled and clattered in tune with the pots and pans secured above the stove.
 	A sack of flour landed with a thud outside the pantry and coated Becky and Carl in white.
 	Becky let out a scream and landed on her ass on the linoleum, which was now cracking from the force of the earthquake I had created.
 	Carl swung his gaze around the room as he stumbled against a counter and dropped to his knees. His eyes were wide and filled with shock as he swung the gun from the archway to me and back again. His hands were shaking as he tried to hold on to the Glock. “If—if you’re doing this you’d better stop it, bitch.”
 	The room continued to rock and Carl had to brace one of his hands on the floor. Becky screamed again and huddled in a corner, her palms braced to either side of her in an effort to keep from rolling across the bucking floor. Dark Elves are lithe, our footing perfect, and I easily kept on my feet.
 	Loud snaps from wood cracking came from the door frame. I directed my air elemental magic at the frame. I used my element to rip a sword-length shard of wood. At my command, my magic propelled the shaft straight at Carl.
 	His gun clattered to the floor as he flung his hands over his face.
 	The jagged point of the staff pierced his hands and buried itself in his head.
 	Becky screamed again, horror on her face.
 	I ignored Carl’s body as he collapsed onto the linoleum, and I ignored Becky’s continued screams. I released my control of the elements. The ground beneath the building settled and everything went still.
 	Keeping Becky within sight, I moved toward Adam. I dropped to my knees beside his body.
 	My heart felt like it had cracked like a wooden plank, then burned to cinders. If Dark Elves could cry, my face would have been flooded with tears. My eyes ached, and with everything I had I wished I could cry. I grasped Adam’s shoulder and moved him just enough so that I could see his precious face—with his sightless eyes. My hand shook as I reached for him and started to close his eyelids.
 	I went still. The smell of alyssum was so strong I almost gagged. The moldy odor of wet, ruined hay rushed over me, a smell given off by a dead Metamorph. This wasn’t Adam. This was a Metamorph who had taken on Adam’s appearance.
 	Confusion, then relief, made my head spin. My thoughts raced. If this wasn’t Adam, where was he? Had they killed him already? Please let Adam be okay.
 	“Nyx!” Olivia’s voice came from the doorway, and I jerked my head up to see my partner there. More relief touched me as I saw her. She looked fine, and this dead male beside me wasn’t Adam.
 	“Come on.” She cocked her head in the direction she had come from, and the kitchen light caressed her skin, which was like flawless brown silk. “We need to hurry. Something big is going down at the Paranorm Center.”
 	I registered four things at once in a rapid flash.
 	Olivia was human and didn’t know about the Paranorm Center.
 	Olivia didn’t talk that way. She would normally have told me I looked like hell and to stop screwing around and get my ass down where I was needed.
 	Olivia was wearing a plain T-shirt. Just a plain black T-shirt. She never wore plain shirts. Ever. The shirts always had sayings like the one she’d had on this morning—
 	I sometimes go to my own little world, but that’s okay. They know me there.
 	And this female smelled like alyssum.
 	No way in all of the Underworlds was this Olivia.
 	I dove for the pile of silverware that had scattered across the floor. I grabbed a steak knife and rolled onto my back.
 	I flung the knife across the room. It flipped end over end and then buried itself in the fake Olivia’s heart.

CHAPTER 3

   	Becky’s screaming was like a shrill alarm clock in the background. I was tempted to shut her off, but she was nothing more than an ignorant pawn, who hadn’t tried to kill me, which meant I had to return the favor. Still, I kept her in my peripheral vision just in case.
 	I started toward the archway where the not-Olivia had crumpled to the floor. I automatically reached for one of my dragon-clawed daggers when I realized I was still in human clothes and wasn’t wearing my weapons belt. I ground my teeth. It wasn’t likely they’d had the courtesy to bring my handbag along with me, much less my leather fighting suit and weapons.
 	Rodán and the other Trackers needed to know what was going down, and I needed backup.
 	“Give me your handbag.” I held my hand in Becky’s direction. The flour-coated simpleton stopped screaming as she grabbed her purse from off the floor and clutched it to her. Idiot. Facing her possible demise and she was protecting her Ferragamo purse from me. She had only one of her matching heels on; the other was near Carl’s body.
 	With my hand still extended, I scowled at her. The floor started to rock again and Becky screamed and threw her handbag at me.
 	I caught it and she yelped as I jerked the purse open in a not-so-delicate manner. I dug through it, found her cell phone, then dropped the purse on the floor. Becky started to scramble toward it but stopped when she got a good look at my expression.
 	That’s right, lady. Don’t mess with a pissed-off blue-haired amethyst female Tracker.
 	A sense of urgency made my skin feel like ants were crawling over me. I flipped the phone open and called our Proctor, Rodán, who was also my mentor and former lover.
 	It didn’t take me long to explain everything to Rodán. He pinpointed my location by the cell phone signal and would send the Paranormal Task Force to clean up the mess and take care of Becky.
 	I would have called Adam, who was an NYPD detective, or Olivia, but both were human and couldn’t enter—or know about—the Paranorm Center. Chills prickled my arms. I didn’t even know if Adam was alive. Or Olivia for that matter. Had the Metamorphs gotten to my lover or my partner?
 	I pocketed the cell phone, scooped Carl’s gun up from the floor, then grabbed the elemental-magic-treated wrist and ankle cuffs. My eyes narrowed and my jaw set, I approached Becky.
 	“No!” Her high-pitched voice was a squeak. “Don’t hurt me!”
 	“Shut up.” I knelt in front of her, grabbed one of her wrists, and cuffed her to the handle on the door of the pantry. For good measure I cuffed her ankles, too. The PTF would be here in no time and take care of her.
 	I stepped over the dead doubles of Adam’s and Olivia’s bodies before rushing through the archway. Pictures had fallen off the walls, lamps had toppled from end tables, glass from broken picture frames had shattered on the carpet from my mini-earthquake.
 	From the looks of the place, the Metamorphs had taken over some human’s apartment. The front door of the small place was steps away. I tucked the handgun in my waistband and was out that door within seconds.
 	I jogged down a set of stairs and pushed my way through a pair of double doors. Cool winter air filled my lungs as I ran around the building until I reached a fairly busy street. Amsterdam, close to West Forty-second Street. Now I had to get to the Paranorm Center which was below the Alice in Wonderland unbirthday party sculptures in Central Park on the Upper East Side.
 	I pulled a glamour, making myself invisible to humans—who might freak at an amethyst woman with blue hair—and ran. As my bare feet met slush and snow, I wished desperately for my leather boots. Dark Elves generally don’t have a problem with cold, but having bare feet in polluted slush from melted snow was on the chilly side.
 	My air element helped push me faster than my already enhanced speed. I would have been a blur to humans if they could have seen me.
 	When I finally reached the unbirthday party sculptures, Angel was already there. She was walking the circumference of the sculpture counterclockwise, reciting the engraved nonsensical poem to open the door. “‘ ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.’” I had no idea what the poem was supposed to mean, but it would open the door beneath the toadstool.
 	Angel was a beautiful blond Doppler with corkscrew curls and was a squirrel in her animal form. She looked like a bubbly cheerleader but had graduated from Harvard and had been an intern with NASA.
 	“Have any other Trackers made it here?” I asked when I came to a full stop.
 	“Not that I know of.” Angel was now at the back of the sculpture, and the door beneath the toadstool began to open. She scanned me with her brilliant blue eyes. “You look amazingly healthy considering your clothing is bloody rags. Kind of like you’ve been engaged in some one-on-one with a leopard and he got in a few good licks.”
 	“We have to hurry.” I didn’t have time to go into anything but what we were here for. “If the information I was given is correct, they’ve already replaced the council members, and that leaves us with two tasks.”
 	“Find the real council members,” Angel said.
 	“And stop the charade going on now.” I glanced into the darkened park. “We’ll take care of this. Other Trackers will have to save the real council members.”
 	We started down the winding set of stone stairs. “How did the Metamorphs find out that the council meeting is really being held here and not at another location?” Angel asked.
 	“Long story.” Inside I groaned. The Metamorphs had tricked me by making me believe that was my Adam they’d had as their captive. I’d spilled it out of fear for him—but I’d also been sure I would have the opportunity to escape come sundown. And I would stop the Metamorphs.
 	The Paranorm Center was a throwback to the Otherworld most of us originated from, some centuries, if not thousands of years, ago. Everything reminded me of home in the belowground realm of the Dark Elves … so medieval.
 	Torches flared to life to light the way into the darkness as the door slid shut behind us. Dark Elves have incredible night vision and I didn’t have to watch my step as I took the twisting turns of the rock staircase, which went almost as deep into the earth as the Realm of the Drow was in Otherworld.
 	When we reached the bottom we were in the enormous main foyer, which had five separate archways. We paused and then each took a side of the archway that would lead us to the main area of Paranorm Center. The massive hallway was empty. Quiet. The council chamber doors were closed.
 	“Some sentries they are,” Angel said beneath her breath as we looked at the Dryads sleeping in their towering wooden columns. “Their sense of smell sucks or they would have identified the Metamorphs.”
 	“I’d bet my cat that the guards that are usually inside the council chambers are Metamorph replacements, too,” I said.
 	Angel rolled her eyes. “That’s no stretch. I’m not even sure you like that blue Persian.”
 	Very possible. Kali had shredded so many of my Victoria’s Secret panties that I’d probably take a turtle in trade for the snotty cat.
 	The council doors were thick and heavy enough to completely mute any sound or voice inside. “I think they might consider backup security after this.”
 	I was wishing for one of my dragon-clawed daggers when Angel said, “You could use this.” When I turned my gaze to her, she carefully tossed a wicked-looking eighteen-inch-long dagger to me so that I caught it by the hilt.
 	With a quick nod of thanks, I slipped around the archway, wielding Angel’s dagger in my right hand.
 	“Halt.” A deep but musical bass of a voice sounded like thunder in the great hall and I came to a stop. “You are not allowed to wield any form of weapon here,” an ancient Dryad said from one of the thick columns. “You know this, Trackers.”
 	We didn’t have time to argue. “Who passed this way most recently?” I asked.
 	The Dryad narrowed her brow. “I do not answer to you, Tracker.”
 	“My apologies.” I wanted to scream with frustration. “All we can tell you is that Metamorphs have probably taken council members hostage and their doubles are inside the council chamber in their places.”
 	Dryad whispers echoed up and down the hallway at my words. The Dryads had no way of confirming this, because the Paranorm Council was paranoid about any of its discussions being overheard.
 	Who knew—the mystery of the chamber could be that it was actually a spa where council members all got foot massages and pedicures. No one could really say what went on behind those doors, and council members kept their meetings secret. All we heard out of them was an occasional ruling, a new law, or a modification of an existing paranorm law.
 	The Dryad nodded, the creak of wood accompanying her movements. Angel and I hurried to the enormous council chamber doors.
 	“Open,” bellowed the vibrating voice of the Dryad we had been speaking with.
 	The council chamber doors swung open.
 	Six male and female council members turned their heads to look at us.
 	I sucked in my breath. Now would have been a really good time to have employed a little stealth.
 	No thanks to the Dryad who had opened the doors to the chambers without giving us a chance to assess the situation. Dryads have no tact and no sense of battle strategy.
 	From the corner of my eye I saw that Angel wasn’t there any longer. It was no surprise to see a blond squirrel’s bushy tail disappearing beneath the council’s draped semicircular table.
 	The strong odor of alyssum emanated from the room, which could only mean Metamorphs. How could the Dryads have missed it, even if they aren’t known for their keen scent of smell?
 	Light flickered from wall sconces throughout the room. The torchlight cast shadows across the dim room, giving an almost eerie feel to the place. It smelled faintly of smoke and crushed rose petals.
 	I gripped Angel’s dagger, and in a quick scan I saw two guards at the back of the room, and I saw that the Metamorphs had done well in replacing five of the six council members. If I hadn’t known they were replacements. I wouldn’t have known the difference.
 	Chief Council Member Leticia—the real Chief, not a Metamorph—looked both perplexed and upset at first glance, as if something wasn’t going right. Leticia, a Doppler, perched on a throne at the center of the crescent-shaped table, and she also represented all others of her race; the Drow and Light Elves had one delegate who served on the council for both of our races; a Siren had been voted in by the Fae to represent all fifteen-plus races of Fae; a Shifter was in attendance for all Shifters; a Werewolf was the envoy for all Weres; and a Vampire represented his kind.
 	In the mere moment it took me to process all of this, I saw that to the side of the council table, in a chair beside a witness stand, was a black-haired Witch dressed in a white sparkling beaded dress. The sophisticated-looking Witch had a pensive, almost confused expression. No doubt she was the real deal and had been appointed to represent all Witches in their appeal to be on the council … and this council meeting was not going according to normal standards.
 	And on the witness stand—
 	Smith.
 	The head Metamorph flashed me a look of complete shock; blood drained from his face. So this was how the Metamorphs were planning to get Smith on the council. He represented his entire race to gain admittance, while all of the council members had been replaced by Metamorphs with the exception of Leticia. He couldn’t lose.
 	But I was going to shut him down.
 	My rapid appraisal ended with my gaze meeting Chief Councillor Leticia’s.
 	“Tracker.” Leticia frowned from her center perch. “Leave at once. This session is not public.”
 	“These aren’t the real council members.” My voice rang through the hall as I spoke. “They’re all Metamorphs. They’ve kidnapped the real members.”
 	A prickle raced up my spine. I caught a flash of silver in the corner of my eye. I ducked into a crouch. A Dryad screamed from inside a wooden pillar as a dagger buried itself in her midsection. Damn. I had moved instinctively and hadn’t realized a Dryad was behind me.
 	I turned to see two guards coming at me from the great hall. A low growl rolled from inside me along with my fury. The dangerous white light flashed in my eyes as the poor young Dryad sobbed and sap bled from her belly. I would kill the guards just for what they’d done to the Dryad.
 	One of the guards had a bow, a gold-feathered shaft nocked in it. The arrowhead glinted in the light cast from the chambers as the guard let it loose. I reached up and caught the arrow, then flung it back at the guard, my air element pushing it even faster than my own power.
 	I pierced the guard through the heart all the way up to the golden feathers.
 	“What in the name of—,” Leticia shouted from her seat.
 	Angel transformed from her squirrel form and appeared behind the chief council member. She yanked Leticia out of her seat and pushed her under the table. “Stay down!” Angel shouted at the Doppler. “These Metamorphs will kill you.”
 	I was aware of everything, but it all happened so fast it was a blur.
 	The guard who had thrown the dagger came charging forward, brandishing a sword. The floor rocked as I ordered my earth element to shift through the stone hall floor. A crack in the stone tripped the guard. With another command my air element twisted both the guard and the blade so that the guard landed on his own sword and severed his neck to his spine.
 	Angel battled three of the five Metamorph imposters. Her side kick sent one sprawling across the room. She grabbed the arm of a female Metamorph and flipped her onto her back. The third, Angel grabbed by the head and snapped his neck.
 	At the same time I was fighting off the two guards and the other two fake council members who came at me from inside the chamber.
 	One guard had a gun and I flattened myself to the floor. As he missed me, I rolled toward the other guard, tripped him, and gutted him with Angel’s dagger.
 	A Metamorph jumped on me but I flipped onto my back, grabbed him by the head, and rammed my knee into his face. He screamed and blood and tears flushed down his face as I broke his nose and his jaw.
 	The fourth Metamorph had a gun, too, and he and the first guard began shooting at me.
 	I wrapped myself in a cocoon of my air element and called to fire.
 	Torch flames from inside the council chambers roared into fiery life. A dragon of fire swooped down and swallowed the guard and the Metamorph, burning them to ash as it carried them down the great hallway.
 	Another guard came out of nowhere.
 	Before I had a chance to do anything, a burst of green light came from the Witch. Plant tentacles wrapped themselves around the guard, taking away his ability to move.
 	A green Witch. I glanced up at her intense face. Witches never killed, but they would fight to protect themselves or others using whatever power they commanded. Hers obviously came from nature.
 	All thoughts and actions happened within moments.
 	Seven down. I glanced in Angel’s direction. Her three were down.
 	That left Smith.
 	I cut my gaze to the witness stand.
 	Smith was gone.
 	Warning chills scrabbled up and down my body.
 	Too late.
 	Fiery lead pierced my abdomen and then my thigh before I could react. Blood flowed from the bullet wounds.
 	Smith had slipped out of the melee and around to my side.
 	Pain seared me like my fire element had seared the two men.
 	I gritted my teeth and forward flipped twice toward Smith.
 	Shock was on Smith’s face as I knocked the gun from his hand, grabbed his head, and slammed my forehead against his.
 	“Stop. Please.” His begging only made me angrier. “We’ll go away. You’ll never see us again.”
 	I jerked his head down with my fists full of his hair. I rammed my knee up and into his face just before I snapped his neck.
 	For a moment, silence filled the chamber and the hall. Dead bodies. Blood everywhere. Cracked floor. Destroyed furniture. Burnt clothes and bones. Stench of charred flesh. Odor of rotting, molding hay.
 	It was over.
 	As my eyes met Angel’s, I started to feel dizzy. I looked down and blood was flowing freely from my abdomen.
 	Two Dryads left their columns and caught me from behind as I slumped.
 	Then passed out.

CHAPTER 4

   	“What happened to you?” Olivia eyed me up and down as I pushed open the door to our PI office; the Fae bells jingled as the door slid shut. “Get sucked in through a jet engine this morning?”
 	“Feel like it.” I’d taken a shower and dressed in fresh clothing, but I did feel like I’d gotten caught in a helicopter’s rotors.
 	I grinned when I saw Olivia’s T-shirt.
 	Where are we going and why are we in this handbasket?
 	The real Olivia.
 	I wanted to hug her but I knew she’d get even by shooting me with one of her eraser-loaded rubber bands.
 	Last night I’d made sure Adam and Olivia were okay by having a couple of other Trackers check in on them. After being shot, I couldn’t do anything until I shifted back into my human form. To say I was relieved when I was told they were okay—well, we’ll just keep it to “that’s an understatement.”
 	“So tell me why you look like you got chewed up and spit out in little pieces,” she said.
 	“I’m fine. Just a rough night tracking.” I smiled my way through my aches and pains. It’s much easier to heal when shifting from human to Drow than it is shifting from Drow to human. I’d mostly healed from my wounds, but not totally. What was more important was that Olivia was here and well. “I am so glad you’re okay.”
 	Olivia gave me one of her looks. “And why wouldn’t I be…?”
 	That made me feel even better. If she didn’t know, then nothing had happened to her at all. “Nothing.”
 	Olivia frowned.
 	I set my handbag on my Dryad-made wooden desk and a pang went through me at the thought of the young Dryad who’d been shot last night. The Healers weren’t sure she was going to survive.
 	“What happened?” Olivia narrowed her gaze. When I shrugged she grabbed an eraser from the stash on her desk and loaded it into a rubber band. “Tell me now.”
 	I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Metamorphs. They went a little crazy last night.”
 	“Metamorphs?” Olivia looked like she was going to laugh. “Since when did one of them grow a backbone?”
 	“They chose last night to do it.” I drew my phone out of my handbag, and the worry that had been biting at me all morning snapped at me. “I need to call Adam again. I haven’t been able to reach him.”
 	“Hold on.” Olivia pulled on her loaded rubber band. “Tell me everything first.”
 	Fae bells tinkled and I cut my attention to the front door. “Adam!” I dropped my phone into my bag, ran to him, and flung my arms around his neck. His leather and coffee scent was so good, so familiar, that I breathed deep before I said, “You’re okay. Olivia’s okay.”
 	“Hey.” Adam caught me by my waist and I winced when he pressed one of his thumbs into my abdomen, right where the bullet had gone in. “Feeling better this morning?”
 	“What?” I looked up at him, confused. Adam didn’t know what had happened. Couldn’t have.
 	“Last night you said you weren’t feeling well so you didn’t want me to come over,” he said. “We were going to watch Body Double before you went tracking.”
 	I laughed even though it hurt my belly.
 	An eraser pinged off my backside and I looked at Olivia, who’d loaded another one. “Start talking, Nyx.”
 	I told them both most of what had happened last night. No matter that they were two of the people I cared most about here or in Otherworld, I was sworn to secrecy about the Paranorm Center—humans were never to know about it.
 	“Why didn’t you call us?” Olivia asked when I finished massaging my story to the part about getting shot. She put her hand on her own handgun. “I don’t like it when you leave me out of things, and you know it.”
 	“That’s right, Nyx.” Adam’s voice was calmer than Olivia’s, but it held disapproval, too.
 	“It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to call you,” I said, looking from Olivia to Adam. “That’s the truth.” More or less.
 	Another eraser pinged off of me, this time off the back of my head.
 	“No wonder you were worried something happened to me and Olivia.” Adam took me by my arms and ran his hands up and down them, causing a pleasant shiver to skim my body. “What happened to the real council members?”
 	“Two other Trackers—Ice and Joshua—located them,” I said as I rubbed my scalp. “Wiped out the Metamorphs who’d kidnapped the council members, and saved the hostages.”
 	“Thank God everything worked out all right.” Adam brought me into his arms and hugged me. I winced again. I hadn’t told them the part about getting shot.
 	“I know my job.” I wrapped my arms around Adam’s waist. “But thank you both for caring.”
 	I knew another eraser was headed my way and I turned my head just enough to see it and catch it. She gave me one of her looks.
 	Adam cupped my face in his hands and brushed his lips across mine. “I think that what Olivia’s telling you is that it goes without saying that we care about you.”
 	A happy sigh filled me, and I breathed him in as I rested my head against his chest before rising up to kiss him.
 	“Give it a rest and get to work,” Olivia said, and I turned to watch her shove another file on top of the ones teetering on her desk. “We got a call first thing. Something about a Succubus. I stuck a note on your desk. Check it out with Rodán.”
 	“Succubus…” I kissed Adam one more time, then headed toward my desk, which was covered in pink sticky notes. “Now this ought to be interesting.”