Flight from Hell Read Online Free Page B

the official consort for Roman, the son of Blood Wyne. While he’s my lover, Nerissa is the love of my life.
    Delilah, second born, is six-one, has short, spiky blond hair, and is athletic as hell. A two-faced Were, she shifts into both a golden tabby cat and a black panther. She’s grown from a naïve and timid young woman into a confidant, formidable opponent and is engaged to Shade, a Shadow Dragon. Both are servants of the Autumn Lord, one of the Harvestmen, and Delilah is his only living Death Maiden, destined to one day bear his child. Delilah had a twin sister—Arial—who died at birth. Arial comes to help us at times in her ghost leopard form.
    And then there’s Camille, the oldest of the three of us. Well, oldest being relative, we aren’t that far apart. Camille is a Moon Witch and priestess for the Moon Mother. Curvy to the max, with an almost plump hourglass figure, her hair hangs mid-back in raven waves, and her violet eyes are flecked with silver when she’s running magic. She has three husbands—a dragon named Smoky, one of the Svartans—Trillian, and a youkai-kitsune named Morio, from whom she is learning death magic. The four make a powerful quartet and are soul-bound as well as married.
    Together the three of us make for a striking contrast, but we’re sisters to the core. Half-human, half-Fae, we had come from Otherworld to make Seattle our home. And as I said, we’re leading the front lines in a demonic war that threatens
both
of our worlds.
    ***
    A sudden crash of thunder broke the incoming storm and the rain lashed down, driving hard. As I silently navigated the puddles, a gust of wind rattled the last leaves off the trees, howling as it whipped past. November had arrived with a vengeance.
    Carter lived in the Broadway district of Seattle, in a basement apartment on a seedy side street. Hookers hung out here, and junkies, and street people who were lost and wandering, but Carter had hired a powerful witch to ward the area around the steps leading down to his place, and anybody questionable steered clear of him.
    After we all parked in front and made sure the cars were locked, we clattered down the steps. Carter was at the door within seconds—he seemed to have an uncanny radar that allowed him to greet his guests before they could even raise their hands to knock.
    His father was Hyperion, the Greek Titan. His mother had been a demoness. With curving horns that spiraled back over his head, the demigod seemed out of place in the middle of the city, although he could pass when he chose, appearing as a striking, but relatively normal, human.
    Carter’s hair was tousled and reached his collar. It was the same copper as mine. He always wore a burgundy smoking jacket over black jeans. A brace supported one leg, and he walked with a cane. I knew how he had come by his injury—but I was the only one in our family in whom he’d confided.
    Carter was a brilliant man, sensual and with a dry sense of humor. But the three of us all knew that he wasn’t a safe candidate for any sort of romantic liaison. While the sensual energy ran thick, it was dark in nature. He’d as much as warned me once that his playmates had to be able to withstand a rough and tumble time.
    â€œThank you for coming.” He motioned us over to his living room. As usual, the opulence was faded but neat, reminiscent of a different time. Carter definitely had his own style; that was for sure.
    As we took our seats, Lara—one of his cats—a gorgeous twelve-pound black and white Aegean, leaped into Camille’s lap. She was soon followed by Roxy, Lara’s fifteen-pound white sister. Inundated under the weight of almost thirty pounds of fur and razor blades, Camille laughed, burying her head in their fur. I grinned as she maneuvered the two cats into petting position.
    â€œI know you wanted to talk to us, but we also have a problem.” I leaned back, crossing my