I slapped his butt. “Not a chance. You’ll go down before me.” And then, abruptly, I stopped. “Tell me something. What is your shadow walker side like? What are the Stradolans like?” I’d never asked before, but now it just seemed a good time.

But Shade looked at me and shook his head. “I will show you, soon. But not tonight. Tonight is for dancing. For celebrating. For family.” And, taking my hand, he led me out the door.

The dance floor was rocking. At least two-thirds of the guests were shaking a leg, to a very mixed playlist of rock. Everything from Tempest—a Celtic band—to Lady Gaga to Aerosmith.

Iris and Bruce were in the center, up on the stage where they’d gotten married, dancing the Twist to Suzanne Vega’s “Blood Makes Noise.” Iris was wearing a pair of pale blue jeans, blue espadrilles, and a sparkling silver tank, and she looked very chic. Her hair was braided in a pattern of intricate loops that kept it off the floor. Bruce was wearing jeans and a muscle shirt, and I was surprised to see how buff he was.

As Shade and I found a space and began to dance, Camille cast a sly smile my way and winked. The music shifted to a new song, and yet another, before Menolly jumped onstage and turned it off.

“May I have your attention, please? It’s time to cut the cake and eat! And then, we’ll dance the rest of the night away.” She motioned to Smoky and Trillian, who carried the cake up on stage. They were careful, and it survived intact. I stared at the tiered wonder, suddenly remembering the graffiti across my Jeep. A wave of anger flashed through me, but I pushed it away. I’d deal with my feelings tomorrow, when Iris was safely on her honeymoon.

Bruce and Iris approached the cake, and she pulled out a silver dagger. As she and Bruce prepared to slice into the cake, there was a sudden noise and Maggie came toddling onto the platform, from the back of the stage.

“Maggie! Maggie!” Hanna’s voice echoed from the front of the tent as she elbowed her way through the crowd. “Maggie got away from me! Stop her!”

Iris turned to see the little gargoyle toddling toward her with an unsteady gait. “Maggie, what are you doing, you little imp?”

“I’is? I’is?” Maggie held out her arms and lurched toward Iris. But the next moment she caught sight of the cake, and her eyes grew wide. She grabbed the tablecloth on the folding table and pulled. Apparently, whoever set up the table hadn’t done a very good job, because one leg began to buckle as the cloth slid off, taking the cake with it.

“No!” Iris dove for it and so did Bruce, and in the excitement, he tripped over her, pushing them both onto the table, right across the cake.

A collective hush swept over the crowd as we watched Iris, Bruce, and Maggie go down with the cake and table in one big, sugary pile. Luckily, it fell to the side of Maggie, and she just giggled, happily licking her fingers. Iris and Bruce, covered in cake, pushed themselves up to a sitting position. I held my breath, waiting for Iris to throw a fit, but she just picked up a handful of the cake, turned to Bruce, and plastered it on his face.

Bruce stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “Woman, you are going down!” He grabbed her, pushing her down onto the cake. And then, he leaned over her and they were kissing, passionately, oblivious to the fact that everybody was watching them. A few flashes from the guests told me pictures would be forthcoming.

Maggie laughed and ate another handful of cake before Menolly jumped on the stage to retrieve her. She glanced down at the couple and shook her head, then turned to the guests.

“Dinner, along with more desserts, is set up in the tent to your left. Buffet style, so please, form an orderly line. Tables are in the other two tents.” And then, taking Maggie with her, she headed for the house to clean up our baby.

As Shade and I headed toward the food, I glanced back at Iris. She and Bruce were sitting up, holding hands. They looked happy. Truly happy.

Hours later, late in the night but still not yet dawn, Bruce and Iris were clean and in their traveling clothes. His family was waiting outside for them. They were traveling together to Ireland for their honeymoon and would be back in two weeks.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stood there with Menolly and Camille. Forcing a smile to my face, I leaned forward and kissed the happy couple on the forehead.

“Take care of yourself and come home soon. We’ll miss you.”

Iris nodded. “I know, I’ll miss you, too. But I’ve waited a long time for this and I want to see the land of Bruce’s birth.”

Menolly pressed her hand to her lips, her eyes glistening with red tears. “You have to be back by the equinox—that’s when Nerissa and I are holding our promise ceremony.”

“I will be. Don’t you worry—I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Iris turned to Camille. “And you…will you be okay?”

Camille nodded. “We will be fine…all of us. Hanna knows what to do, and we are safe here. But please, take care. Bruce, guard her and watch over her. Iris is our sister. Let nothing happen to her.”

He straightened his shoulders. “I will, my lady. Trust me—Iris is my joy and my life. And she carries my child. I will guard them both with my life. But now, we must go. My family waits outside.”

As they headed toward the door, Camille started to follow, then stopped. We had gone as far as we could. The next two weeks were Iris’s to live, without us there, in joy with her new family. Even though I knew she’d be coming back, I began to cry, softly. Life was changing. I only prayed that the future wouldn’t tear us apart. Because while I now knew I could weather change…I couldn’t weather being alone.

Chapter 10

A mist was rising off the street, as I looked around, confused for a moment. Then I realized it was night, and raining, and the raindrops pounded against the city pavement with a staccato drumbeat, hard and fast. The puddles glimmered beneath the streetlights, rippling with each new drop that shattered the surface.

As I looked around, getting my bearings, I realized that this wasn’t exactly a dream—I was out on the astral, in spirit, and I knew who had summoned me.

“Greta? Are you here?” I called out the name of my trainer—the leader of the Death Maidens.

After a moment, the petite redhead slipped from out of the shadows and glided over to me, in a robe the color of twilight. Her forehead bore the same tattoo as my own crescent, burning brightly with a flame in the center, and her arms were tattooed like mine, only more intricate and vibrant. Mine would someday be just as vivid.

“Good, you begin to recognize my energy signature. But let us travel. I have a job for you tonight, and it will not be easy.” She turned to me, eyeing me up and down. “You need to wear a robe for this. Living or not, when you formally take part in ceremonies, you’ll have to wear the uniform.”

“I don’t have one.” I had no clue how to change clothes on the astral, but she held out her hand and a long garment appeared, draped over her forearm. She handed it to me.

“I’ll teach you how to change your clothes on the astral. It’s a simple matter of focusing your thoughts. You’re naked in your bed right now, aren’t you?” She smiled. “But here you are dressed in jeans and T-shirt.”

I glanced down. She had a good point. Somehow, I had managed to dress myself when pulled out by her call, so I should be able to change clothes. I accepted the robe and held it up. I could just put it on, but I wanted to learn her trick.

“What do I do if I want to mentally shift the clothing?”

“Focus on your body and ‘see’ it in a different outfit. Close your eyes and feel the image shifting.” She smiled. “It helps to think of it not as magic—especially since you don’t work magic—but as a mental shift. A perceptual transformation. Think of it like when you shift into animal form.”

I closed my eyes and lowered my head, feeling the heavy robe in my hands. Picturing myself standing there, I mentally shifted the robe out of my hands to cover my jeans and tee. Nothing happened. I tried again, this time imagining the robe hovering around me and sliding onto my body. Again—nothing. Finally, irritated, I silently ordered the robe to get the hell on my back. And this time, the material shifted, vanished, and I suddenly felt the weight of it hanging from my shoulders.

Opening my eyes, I looked down. I was wearing the robe. Greta handed me a tasseled belt and I stared at the fringe for a moment, but controlled my urge to play with it. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d be as lenient as my sisters were about the G-string.

I wrapped it around my waist and cinched it tight. “Okay, I think I have that down. What’s on the agenda tonight?”

For the past few months, I’d been training under the new moon with Greta, but we’d just passed the new moon a week or so back, and I had the feeling this was a special situation. I’d learned a lot in the training sessions we’d had so far, but something shifted in my stomach and I could sense a big lesson on the horizon.

“Tonight will not be easy for you. Come…you are going to be asked to put into action all that you’ve learned.” She looked at me, her face impassive. Greta was petite, far shorter than I, and yet she carried herself with a power and grace that I could only imagine possessing.

As I met her gaze, I realized what she meant. Tonight, I would take my first soul—I would be the conduit to guide someone out of the physical. “You want me to kill someone…”

“No…you must stop calling it that. Their destiny is set, but you will help with the transition. This is a great responsibility. You have learned to control yourself when you are in panther form. You no longer fear taking down opponents with your Death Maiden powers without permission. Now, you must actually willingly use them.”

She took my hand and we began to travel. We sped through the streets, faster than I could ever hope to move when not on the astral, as the steady rain poured around us. At our speed, the drops turned into bullets, sleeting against the ground as they pummeled the pavement. We raced through the night, dark shadows, harbingers of death.

The world fell away and we passed out of the city proper, toward the Sound. It was so dark, I wasn’t sure just where we were, but the neighborhood looked familiar, even in the dark. We passed a huge park and my stomach began to flutter. I knew several Weres who lived in this area, and I really didn’t want to think about what I might be heading into. Katrina, and Siobhan, they both lived up in this direction.

Please, I whispered to myself as we ran, please, don’t let us be targeting one of them. I couldn’t bear it if I had to take part in transitioning one of my good friends across the veil. I didn’t want my face to be the last they saw.

But we turned before we reached the street leading to Katrina’s, and we were still well out of distance of Siobhan’s house. I sucked in a deep breath—even though out here on the astral I didn’t need to breathe—and watched as Greta sped ahead toward a little house on a corner lot. The lot was surrounded by a chain-link fence. A chaise lounge and small side table sat out in front, both soaked through. Greta stopped by the gate and turned to me.

“Do you recognize this place?” She waited for me to take a long look at it. I frowned, taking it in. I didn’t remember ever coming here. After a moment I shook my head.

“I don’t think so, and yet, there is something familiar about it.”

“That’s because you know the owner and you can feel his energy even out here. And here, on the astral, this house—this yard, all have his signature embedded into what you see.” She motioned for me and I followed her as we slid right through the gate and headed toward the house. The next moment, we were standing inside at a man who was watching a late-night science fiction movie. And then I knew.

“Wylie.” I swallowed, hard. Wylie’s mother had a sense of humor when she named him. She was a coyote shifter. And so was Wylie. He had become a regular at the Supe Community Meetings. Strong, lean, and a little rough around the edges, he’d still thrown himself into helping out with planning committees and everything else we might need. He was a loner. As far as I knew he didn’t have a girlfriend, but he never had a harsh word for anybody, at least that I had seen.

“Is it really his time?” I didn’t want to believe it. Wylie was still young, as far as Weres went.

Greta turned to me. “There is much more,” she said softly, her eyes dark as the ocean. “You need to take his soul through yours. This one, you cannot just consign to the afterlife. He’s not headed for an easy end, Delilah.”

I started. “What? You want me to…” Pausing, I strove to remember what she had taught me. Some souls we collected for the gods when they couldn’t, for one reason or another. Others, we helped transition to the afterlife because they deserved it. And still others, we condemned and sent to oblivion. All of this, we did when the Autumn Lord sent down orders.

“Wylie Smith has upset the balance, bringing too much chaos into a situation. The Hags of Fate have decreed that his soul be sent to the cleansing fires.” She stood back, crossing her arms. “You must collect his soul, Delilah. There are things you need to know. Grandmother Coyote spoke with the Autumn Lord, and he has ordered it be done.”

Grandmother Coyote and Hi’ran? This must be big. I stared at her, nervously tugging at my robe. I didn’t want to do this. “How is he going to die?”

“He has a weak heart. As he watches his movie, the rhythm will begin to falter, then seize. He is due for cardiac arrest and will not have time to get to the phone. You will be waiting to collect his soul as he dies. You will examine the images, then consign his soul to the abyss.” Her words came out, a neutral flow of information. This was old hat to her.