Karhi Emelyn

Sloane pulled a battered man, presumably Mikko, out of the cab and thanked the cab driver in Spanish. She handed him a hundred-dollar bill before he drove away.

Mikko put his arm around her neck, and she took most of his weight for him.

The door to Mira’s house opened, and four people flooded out of the house—Mira, Genie, Frankie, and a black woman Karhi didn’t recognize.

The woman Karhi didn’t know, a shifter, rushed ahead of the others and when she reached Mikko, she put her hands on either side of his face. As she did, Karhi saw that where his right ear should be, there was only a gnarled, scarred stub of skin.

“Babe,” she murmured, searching his face. “What happened?”

Mikko smiled but it was tight and uncomfortable. “A lot. I’d really like to shower and go to bed, if we can do that.”

She kissed his forehead before pulling her hands away. She looked at Sloane. “I can take him.” Her tone and expression told Sloane she didn’t have a choice.

Sloane passed Mikko off to the woman—Annie, Karhi thought from things Sloane had said—and Annie slung his arm around her shoulder. Together, they headed into the house. Frankie followed them, hovering uncertainly, asking Mikko if he could get anything for him.

Genie and Mira stayed outside, and Sloane stepped to stand in front of them. As she did, two shadows separated from Mira’s house. One was a giant red wolf, the other the barrel-chested man Sloane had addressed before Corvine had come. Bell, Karhi thought his name was.

“What happened?” Mira asked.

Sloane shook her head. “Corvine found him. And then something came after us.”

Karhi had begun to move closer to the house when he had seen Sloane. Now he stood across the street, not bothering to hide himself. Two werewolves, a vampire, and a mindreader would find him in a minute. He would just be a quiet, unobtrusive presence instead.

Sloane told them about when Corvine had come out with Mikko, explaining what she had learned about his captivity (namely, nothing) and then when they had been attacked by the creature.

“What the hell was that?” Mira asked, glancing between Sloane and the two wolves. Karhi got the feeling she was reading their minds and seeing whatever had attacked them.

Sloane shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Giant bearthing? Dunno.”

“Same,” Bell agreed.

“Did you talk to Mikko in the cab about what happened?”

Sloane shook her head. “He slept for most of it, using me as a giant pillow. He barely slept the past few days.”

“If I was getting tortured, I’d probably be the same,” Mira agreed.

Sloane grimaced. “Did you see in his head?”

She made a so-so motion. “I didn’t go digging, because I didn’t want to accidentally dredge it up for him when he’s so raw. But I saw bits and flashes. He was blindfolded for the most part, and no one ever spoke to him. They just beat the shit out of him when they felt like it.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t look like he got much about what was happening to him. They just kept him afraid the whole time, and he didn’t see anyone’s faces until Corvine rescued him, and she pulled his blindfold off. They made him put the blindfold on before anyone came into the room.”

“Great,” Sloane growled.

Genie signed something to both of them and Karhi noticed for the first time that neither Mira nor Sloane had been signing in front of her, but she didn’t seem to be lost. Was Mira relaying the conversation telepathically to Genie? Even if Genie was good at lipreading, it was usually only possible to get forty to fifty percent of the conversation that way.

Mira answered Genie out loud. “He doesn’t have anything broken or hurting in a way that makes me think he won’t just heal up. He seems okay.”

Genie nodded.

“I accidentally dislocated his arm,” Sloane winced, glancing at the house apologetically.

Mira shrugged. “Are you staying tonight?”

“He’s going to be out for a while, and I should probably get some sleep while I can,” Sloane replied. “You have a full house, so I’ll just head back to my motel room. Call me when he wakes up? I want to be there when he tells us the full story.”

Mira gave her a thumbs up and glanced at Genie. She signed something and Genie nodded.

Genie hugged Sloane before turning back to the house. Mira followed her.

That left Sloane and the two wolves.

Sloane looked at them and pointed at each of them. “You are going back on the back burner.”

Apparently, he hadn’t learned a thing from what Mira had told him earlier. Bell bristled. “Sloane, you can’t keep us waiting forever. You said—”

“I said we would talk. Didn’t say when. At least you know there’s an end to your waiting,” she shot back. Karhi felt the heat of the anger behind those words like a fire inside his own chest. He had felt more emotion from her in the past ten hours than he had felt from her in the past ten months. “You let me think you were dead for two years, Bell. You can wait a couple days for me to figure out who is trying to kill my family.”

Bell’s jaw clenched, and his hands balled up into fists.

Sloane smiled without an ounce of warmth. “What, do you want to argue with me? Emphasize how you’re my family?”

He didn’t have an answer for that, but his body language seemed to indicate Sloane had hit the right notes.

“Thought so,” she said. She turned her back to him. “Go fuck yourself.”

She glanced at Karhi as she walked to where his car was parked in front of Mira’s house. She pulled out the keys and said, “Come on.”

Karhi didn’t especially want to tag along with Sloane. But the rip current of emotions inside of her made him think that he should. He wasn’t worried that she was dangerous, but he suspected she needed something from him.

And honestly, the longer he could stay away from his hotel, with Ilona easily able to find him, the better.

He followed her and got into the passenger seat, not bothering to point out that this was his car, and he should be driving it. At this point, it was her car. She had stolen it fair and square.

Sloane let out a harsh, humourless laugh as she pulled out onto the street.

Karhi glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I just can’t fucking believe that you, of all people, are the only person I can actually stand to be around right now.”

Karhi shrugged one shoulder, looking back out the front window. “Sometimes it’s easier to handle strangers than friends.”

She didn’t reply, but her uncertainty and anger tugged at him like annoying children.

“What did you want to ask me?” Karhi finally said when it seemed like she wouldn’t gather the courage to tell him why she had really wanted him to come with her. She was staring out the front windshield, navigating to whatever motel she was staying in.

She huffed a breath out through her nose. “Karhi . . . will you help me find whoever did this to my family?”

“If you give me a shred of context for anything that’s happening, maybe.”

She blinked in surprise. “You knew I was going to ask?”

“I knew you wanted something from me. I have five centuries on you, and it’s no secret that I’ve played detective for Ilona over the years. So, your question isn’t surprising. Especially because I’ve recently realized that you know a lot more about me than I would have thought three days ago.”

He felt her discomfort as his words hit her.

That’s what he had thought. “You knew,” he said.

“For fuck’s sake, Karhi. You called me Elizabeth the first night we met.”

Karhi looked out the passenger seat, suddenly too uncomfortable to even see Sloane in his peripheries. As he did, she pulled into the parking lot of a Super 8. “Yeah, well . . .” He didn’t have anything else to say in response. She was right and he didn’t have any excuses.

She parked and killed the engine. He couldn’t see her, but he felt her gaze like a pressure on the back of his skull. “Is that why you turned me? Because I looked like my grandmother?”

He shrugged, focusing on the numbers of the rooms in front of him. “Maybe? I don’t know, Sloane. The night I met you was a particularly bad night with Ilona. I was trying to avoid going out and getting high. So, I went to Swanskin’s and thought maybe I could distract myself with hooking up with someone. And then . . .” He didn’t know what else to say. They did what they did, and the next morning he woke up in bed with her in her turning coma. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finished lamely.

She wasn’t angry with him, which he hadn’t expected. He’d been actively avoiding thinking about how Sloane was Elizabeth’s granddaughter for months. He had mistaken Sloane for her when the first met, but after talking to her that night, he had just chalked it up to coincidence.

He had been horrified when he found out that was not the case after looking into her background more.

“I don’t really expect you to say anything,” Sloane said when the silence between them had become too loud. “I guess I just wanted to finally clear that air because I never acknowledged it. And it takes two to turn.”

He hazarded a glance at her, and her face and emotions confirmed that she wasn’t upset.

She was just tired.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.” It didn’t take two to turn quite like she said, but it didn’t matter. They were okay.

It was rare for Karhi to feel embarrassed or awkward or sheepish. But Sloane made him feel like that way more than he was comfortable.

He was a bit soothed to know that he made her feel the exact same way.

But she was better at moving on from it than he was. “I’ll give you more context if you help me find out who did this to my family,” she said, finally meeting his gaze.

“You know that’s a pretty lousy bargaining chip,” he replied, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Do you have anything better to do?”

“Find out who kidnapped me and tried to take me from the brothel?”

“I could probably help. I know a lot of people in Phoenix.”

He hadn’t thought of that. In fact . . . “Wait, you were the one who brought Luna to Madam Bovary’s.”

“I knew she was the only place in town that really did hookers and drugs. And her employees are all genders, which I knew would appeal to your pansexual ass. Plus, turns out I knew one of the women that work there, so that helped us get in easier.”

He considered it. “You grew up in foster, but you were mostly a runaway? Homeless?”

“Basically.”

It struck him that the thoughts of growing up homeless or being reminded of her childhood didn’t really seem to bring up any emotions for her. It was a time of her life that she seemed to accept. Sometimes she even looked back on fondly. Not all of it—not even most of it—but enough of it.

“Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll help you if you help me.”

She held out a fist to him. He peered at it quizzically for a moment before realizing that she probably wasn’t the type to shake hands.

He bumped fists with her.

“Cool,” she said. “But since we finally have like two minutes to not freak out about things falling apart . . . sleep?”

He agreed. “Sleep.”

They never talked about it, but Karhi appreciated that Sloane never questioned his fear of the dark. It didn’t matter that he could see through most darkness pretty easily. It didn’t matter that his sense of smell or hearing would warn him long before his sight did. It didn’t even matter that he was stronger than most things that would come after him.

The fear was that he would fall asleep in the dark and wake up to darkness he couldn’t see through. Because Ilona had done that to him so many times in the past.

He woke up suddenly, sitting straight up and gasping for air. Darkness spotted his vision, and he could barely see anything in front of him. Panic gripped him, and he clenched the sheets beneath him.

Something soft and smooth covered one of his bunched fists and cooling calm flooded him. It soothed the hysterical fear that had hold of him, and his vision cleared.

A shabby motel room. The faint stench of cigarettes. A broken TV that only played FX.

“Lay down,” a muffled voice said. “It was a nightmare.”

Karhi looked down to see Sloane with her head turned almost completely into her pillow, one arm under the pillow, the other next to him, her hand covering his.

Her eyes weren’t even open, and her voice was sleepy. Her hair almost completely obscured her face.

He went to move his hand, but her grip tightened. “Mikko, go back to sleep. It was only a nightmare, we’re here now. Bed is safe.” She pulled his hand until he had to lay back down or lose his balance.

Laying down, he bent his elbow, and she pulled his hand to her chest. “S’okay, Mikko. They’re not here.”

Mikko. How many nights had Sloane soothed Mikko back to sleep after nightmares? Were the nightmares from what happened to his ear?

He didn’t bother to argue with her. She was half asleep and her holding his hand to her chest was nice.

They had spent a majority of their cohabitation up to now arguing and fighting. From the first day she had been a vampire, they had argued and fought and ignored each other. They had spent as little time as possible together.

Except when he had needed someone.

He had been with Ilona twice since Sloane had become a vampire. Both times, she had beat him so badly that he had limped when he left her. It only took him a few hours to heal, and the minute he could walk on his own, he had gone straight to the Carlyle for blood from Azlea and Thirn, and then to the bar downstairs searching for anyone who had a fix.

And when the high wore off, and whatever sex worker was paid, and he had to crawl back home, Sloane had been there. She was there when he came back, barely even able to talk.

The first time, it took her a bit to understand. She had just been reading a book on the couch. She was confused when he came inside, aching from the comedown and half mad with exhaustion.

But she had felt his emotions. She had understood that Ilona had done something to him.

And she sat with him on the couch, holding his hand until the comedown was done. It had to have been six hours. She held his hand and read a book and didn’t say a word.

Then, when he wanted to sleep, she helped him into bed. She sat with him, reading her book, and left the light on. When he woke up, she had fallen asleep, upright, with her book on her belly.

The second time, she had been asleep when he came home. She was pissed at how much noise he made, but she had made him drink blood to flush out his system. When he was more sane, she dragged him into bed with her and held his hand while they fell asleep. She left the light on, even though she hated sleeping with lights on.

And she never talked about it. She never asked him questions. She never made him feel bad. She just cleaned him up, sitting or sleeping with him, and waited for him to feel better. She didn’t tell his siblings. She didn’t shame him. She just waited with him.

He had never really thanked her for that.

Sloane shifted next to him. He looked over to see him staring at his hand in confusion. “Why . . .”

“You kept calling me Mikko and told me to go back to sleep.”

She let go of him and sat up. “Time is it?”

The alarm clock next to him told him he’d gotten nine hours of sleep. “Ten.”

Thump thump thump. Someone banged on the door. “Karhi, I know you’re in there.”

It was Lunette.

“I’m gonna shower while you deal with that,” Sloane said, rolling out of bed and heading for the door next to the bed headboard. She pulled a duffel bag with her as she did.

He got up, pulling on the shirt he’d been wearing the day before that he’d thrown over the dresser at the foot of the bed.

He started to open the door, but before he could even get it fully open, it hit him in the knee, and Lunette pushed through. She sneered at the room and him, hands on her hips. “What the fuck is going on?” she demanded. “You keep hanging up on me and leaving me out of the loop. And then you ask me to look shit up for you.”

He hadn’t really asked her to look stuff up, she had mostly done that on her own. But if he pointed it out, the conversation would be much longer than it needed to be. But it didn’t matter. He had been blocking her out on purpose, even if he hadn’t really actively realized it.

“If I tell you, you’ll be implicated when Ilona finds out,” he said.

She gave him the finger. “And? I’ll already be fucking implicated for knowing where Sloane is, you dense fuck.”

He didn’t have a good response for that. “Uh . . .”

“Yeah, too fucking busy thinking about you being reunited with your little fledgling to realize that she puts us all in danger by fucking existing.”

The heat that burned at the back of his neck was sudden and unexpected. Before he could think about what he was saying, he barked back, “Sloane isn’t a danger for existing. Ilona is. She’s the problem, not Sloane.”

“Sloane isn’t helping,” she muttered under her breath.

“And neither are you,” he snapped. “Lunette, did you come here to be a dick or—”

“How long have you been doing heroin?”

The words died in his throat, and he stared at her. “What?”

“Why did your fledgling know you were doing it—had taken care of you with it—and I find out, basically by fucking accident?”

Lunette was so much shorter than him, but glaring up at him, he felt almost her height. He felt small. Her glare was powerful, filled with anger . . . and hurt.

He had hurt her.

He blinked. “Um . . .” He clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“I know we don’t see each other a lot anymore, but you used to tell me everything Karhi. We lived together for over a century. Why did I find out from her?”

He remembered thinking that Luna was made of barbed wire and ice the day before.

But really, she was made of dried out brush. She was brittle and if you put a flame too close, it incinerated her. She would burn out with too much heat and neglect. And she would take everything down with her.

But if tended to, she could be brilliant and luscious and full of life.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I’m sorry for cutting you out and acting like this.”

Luna flushed, looking away from him. A lot of people thought vampires couldn’t blush because they didn’t have any blood or were too dead to flush. If that was the case, what was the point of all the blood they drank? Blood didn’t stay in their stomachs.

“I thought you wanted an apology?” He held his hands out in confusion at her averted gaze.

She turned away from him. “Yeah, well . . . don’t do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. She was still shit at taking apologies gracefully. “Do you want to know what’s going on?”

“Literally that’s all I’ve asked for the past two days.”

He sighed, sitting down on the bed. Even when he was trying to be nice to Lunette, she was still an asshole.