The Interloper Bk. 01

Kidnapping had been my next guess. But there'd been no ransom, no contact of the parents after the disappearances, nothing to suggest kidnapping. Of course, slavery was still alive and well, but Caster had disavowed that. There was no way a person or even group could get away with kidnapping what was shaping up to be nearly thirty people. And if they were slaves, he'd said, they'd go after children much younger, female and exotic.

That didn't fit any of the missing persons. So I was back to my original question: why teenagers?

"We're done for the day," Caster called over his shoulder as we exited the castle and found our bikes. I was too entrenched in my thoughts to take one last wide-eyed, stunned look at the Little Mermaid Wet Dream Castle I'd come out of.

The teens weren't part of the same clubs, groups, schools, or social circles. That was the first question I'd asked to the third parent because I'd been looking for any pattern. But no, little werewolf Wind-Runner went to pack school, hunted with other wolves, and was a showy kid who had more of a fan club than a circle of friends. But with a name like that I couldn't blame him. Interestingly enough, werewolf names were the most normal of the names I'd come by so far. They were given to the wolves after their first run, and only because of a striking quality they possessed. Wind-Runner was the fasted in his age group which is how he'd gotten his name, or so his parents told me.

Something hard rapped me on the head and I looked up to see Caster standing in front of me with his knuckles poised. "Are you listening?"

This was the first time he'd been within five feet of me since we started, and I felt acutely aware of that. No sex! My brain screamed as my body seemed to do an inventory check of itself to make sure we were raring to go. Panties wet? Check. Nipple hard? Check, check. Panting Breath? Check. Eyes staring a hole through Casters leather pants? Oh, a hard check and hell yes on that.

"Yes, just . . ." I searched for anything other than the blatant sexual things crossing my mind. "Thinking."

"I can smell it."

Glaring at the incubus, I nodded to his erection. "When was the last time you had sex?" Caster needed to be on a steady diet of vagina or I started to get all hot and bothered when he was close. And thinking about Caster did not so great things to me. Like make me almost homicidally jealous (I'd thought about ripping a few eyes out).

"A week."

I stumbled back and hit my hip against my bike. A week! That had to be the longest he'd ever gone without sex while partnered with me. "What the—Why didn't you do it yesterday night?"

Those satyr girls had been all about four letter words. Fuck and come and dick and more. He could have very easily had an orgy.

His look was grim and his eyes didn't quite meet mine. "I've been tired. There hasn't been time to rest, much less indulge myself."

"It's not an indulgence if it keeps you alive."

The narrowing of his eyes let me know I was toeing a line. "Would you like to offer yourself?"

Oh boy, would I! "No," I coughed, tapping down on my way too happy lady bits. I settled my hands on my hips and tried my stern nanny face on. "Let's find a brothel and get you settled instead."

He shook his head and I think it was as much to say no as it was to clear it. "Whore houses are outlawed on Yenos. It'd bring too many demons over. And I'm not in the mood."

He was such a freakin' liar. Bulges in pants did not lie. I tried to remember that Duke said not to have sex with Caster. In fact, the vampire threatened both of us. That still didn't stop the urges from flowing, or my eyes from roaming Caster's swirling body and imagining him over, under, and inside me, screaming for me to come as I spurred him on hard with teeth and nails and my heels digging in his ass.

Hmm.

"Get on your bike," I demanded in a none-too-demanding tone. The tone was all fuck me Caster, please. Take me on my bike and make me come. "Now."

A smile flitted across his lips before he turned and walked awkwardly back to his bike. He looked like his legs hurt, or maybe the thing between them was a little too hard to walk around. I mentally snickered as he settled on the bike and I did the same on mine. We were off in a second, driving to what I hoped was the hotel and not some desolate place for the incubus to screw my brains out.

My first intuition was right, and we arrived at a collection of buildings that looked suspiciously similar to a Motel 6. Some things never change. The second I stepped off the bike, Caster's sexy incubus power hit me like a semi speeding down a highway. My knees actually buckled.

"I'm going to take care of myself," the demon growled savagely, his tattoos moving so fast his skin looked like a smudge in the night. "Get the rooms."

His words left me cold with distaste thick on my tongue. I knew what "take care" meant and I didn't like it one bit. Though why I should care was beyond me. I didn't feel this way before the kiss he'd given me in the hallway, and it's not like a press of lips suddenly meant everything he was was mine and any female who tried to touch him would lose a hand. It didn't.

The sun had set and the night was a calming blanket of dark blue universe, illuminated by the soft glow of solar panel lights. I ignored my inner voice and walked through a front door that looked suspiciously like white-painted oak and approached the counter. The floor was some kind of dark wood, covered with a thick rug set with geometric pattern. The patterned rug matched the two chairs set to the side with a coffee table and small lamp between them. The walls were beige, covered with paintings of different nature scenes. It was warm and inviting, the kind of place I could see myself going to on Earth.

A minotaur stood behind the counter flipping through a magazine. "How can I help you?" From the voice, I gathered the minotaur was a guy.

"My partner and I have a reservation. The Magistrate should have booked it."

He never looked up from his magazine as his tail flicked out and gathered two keys, setting them on the table before that same tail reached somewhere and pulled out a piece of paper and then a pen. "Sign your name. Stamp in blood. Your rooms are 213 and 212."

"Which one's mine?"

"Whichever one you like." He flipped a page. "Sign and stamp."

About two weeks ago, I finally learned how to spell my name. It's in Standard, which is the sort of agreed upon written language of all three planets when sending correspondence. The mages came up with it way-back-when they also created a way for all species to verbally communicate with each other. To me, Standard looked like a million snakes that got loose in a desert. Lots of dots and squiggly lines.

I looked around for the stamp but couldn't find it. None of the other hotels had made me do this, so I was a little confused. "How do I—"

"Bite your thumb bloody and press it on the page next to your name."

So the hotel got an F- for service. It was still a step up from camping like the last time (sharing a small tent with Caster during our second week together after he'd had sex with God only knows how many had charted on the Top Most Embarrassingly Awkward Moments of My Life). Wincing as I bit my thumb, I had a moment of panic when I thought about all the contracts on Earth and how they roped you into things you really didn't want to be in (I was pretty sure Apple had rights to my soul), but somehow I knew that if any of this was dangerous Duke wouldn't have sent me. I was still a liability in his eyes, which was why I usually got the less dangerous assignments, including signing a hotel bill.

"You're all set."

Nodding, I took one of the keys, trying to remember which numbers the syllables written on the tag stood for. "Can you give my partner his key?"

"Can't do it yourself?"

If there was a letter grade I could give that was lower than an F- the minotaur would get it hands down. Leaning on the counter, I slapped on my sweetest smile and said in my most sugary voice, "My partner's an incubus currently fucking his way through one or two females. I'd like not to have to see evidence of that because I'm straddling a very fine line where I don't throw myself at him and beg for something that I want so bad it's killing me not to go to him right now. So, would you please give my partner his key so I can go sleep alone and forget this conversation ever happened?"

He nodded dumbly. "Sure."

"Thanks," I tossed out as I strode away and back to my bike.

An hour later, I was settled down in bed, legs crossed, chin balanced in my palm, looking at the files spread before me. Caster could still be out or he could be back, but I didn't really want to think about him, so diving into work seemed the best. It's what I'd done when my boyfriend had broken up with me because I "didn't have time for him." Work was a fabulous distraction.

Red marked translations covered the pages before me courtesy of the English to Standard dictionary Duke had given me. Not that the translations helped very much, I was still nowhere near figuring out why the teenagers were disappearing that I had been a couple hours ago talking to the sand elves.

On a sigh, I reached for the page closest to me, scanning the piece of paper again even though I'd pretty much committed everything to memory. Pure was a 16 year-old shifter that had disappeared three weeks ago from her home. Flipping the page over, I looked at the small collection of pictures on the back of her room. Table, chair, books, bed, desk—

"Wait a second." I peered closer to the photo, looking at the small black satin bag on the corner of the bed. I'd seen the bag before, I was sure of it.

Flipping the other files over, I searched for other black bags like I was trying to find Waldo. The next black bag lay innocuous and inconsequential half-in, half-out of a were-lion pack school. I looked back to Pure's picture and compared the two photos side by side. It looked like the same bag. Turning the bathroom picture over, I looked at the name at the top of the document. Steal. I didn't have to read the rest of the information to know Steal was a 23 year-old were-lion who'd disappeared nine days ago from his school's bathroom in between classes.

My hands flew over the other documents, flipping them over, scanning the photos for anything. But not all the photos had the black bag, and not all the files had pictures. Flopping back on the bed, I looked over my options. So far six of the files had pictures of the black bag, or rather a black bag. The small bags looked the same, but looking the same wasn't exactly being the same. I could tell Caster what I'd learned and hope that he didn't say the bag was common or I could wait and see if the next missing person's place had a similar black bag.

And what if they did? It's not exactly like my Women's Studies degree prepared me for life as a detective. Then again it was a multi-disciplinary study, so maybe it did prepare me. After all, I'd been taught to look outside the box, see people for who they were and not what they were. It was all about thinking and analyzing and not necessarily getting to the right answer but getting to a place where multi answers to the same problem existed.

So here was my problem: why were teenagers disappearing?

Maybe the black bags would be the answer. Maybe they wouldn't. Instead of trying to track down one things they all had in common, I had to look for more broad connections. There was that whole six degrees things to think about.

Pushing myself back up to a sitting position, I sighed gustily, ran a hand through my hair, scribbled down "Black bag" on the tore off piece of CEM paper I'd been using for my notes, and set to work looking for multi answers and connections.

***

Morning rolled around with the sun bright and cheery in the sky and hard, pounding knocks from Caster at my door. "Wake up, Tilly. We have work."

The sheets felt like cotton and I'd rolled around on them for as long as I could yesterday before sleep claimed me. Honestly, the room felt so much like something I'd find on Earth—sans the very complicated inter-species bathroom set up—that I pretended I was still on there. Vacation time off the beach. My parents would call in the morning, ask what I was doing. "Chilin' in the hotel," I'd respond while contemplating getting off my ass and eating or sleeping some more. Sleep usually won out. All of this I thought of in the space it took me to fall asleep and then my dreams were filled with the most mundane, everyday stuff that I'd hated before and missed desperately now. Waking up to the sound of church bells. Making coffee or maybe tea while I played on my phone or checked my emails. Grabbing my bike from the garage, and pedaling over to Starbucks because I make shit coffee that doesn't taste sugary or chocolatey enough. Rolling my eyes at the people on their laptops who swear that the book or screenplay their working on is the next best thing to their friend who sits across from them.

Boring, mundane, everyday life.

"Wake up, Tilly. I'm coming in if you don't," Caster threatened.

"Coming," I called, throwing off the sheets and padding barefoot across the mauve carpet. I threw the door open and glared up into Caster's stupidly handsome face. His entire body eclipsed the sun, seeming to absorb the rays so it looked almost night still. Not that I could focus on the area around him long, Caster had a way of completely taking up my mind and body whenever he came within five feet of me. I took those five feet back and a deep breath in of Caster-free air.

"We're leaving," he said from the threshold, running a hand over his face. On closer inspection, he looked tired, like he hadn't gotten any sleep. Didn't need to think about why that was. "Get dressed."

I looked over my shoulder at the complicated clock thing on my bedside table. "Isn't it like seven? Our first family isn't until two." My priorities were sleep, review my findings, and nap. In that order.

"Duke sent word. Milan's prodigy has gone missing."

What? "His prodigy?"

"Yes." Casually, Caster crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb. He was getting a little too comfortable for my taste. He scanned my body from my naked toes, past the over long t-shirt I used as a nightgown, to my face. His eyes didn't stay there long though. "Mages can't have children organically. They clone themselves and create prodigies."

"Ooookaaay." I didn't really care about all that. I was more concerned with the obvious lack of satisfaction on the incubus's face. There weren't waves of lust coming off him, which meant the demon had "eaten" so I wasn't sure why he was still looking at me like a juicy steak.

"I need you to get ready."

"Gimme a sec."

Caster shook his head. "I don't understand you."

"Give me time to get ready," I said clearly, omitting all the colloquialisms clawing at my tongue.

An hour later I was dressed in the unofficial CEM uniform of tight leather (borrowed from Fever's leather trove), with my overnight bag under my seat, and the wannabe Motel 6 behind me. Caster and I rode for what felt like three hours, only stopping to pee and eat. The demon still looked fatigued, but if he was he didn't complain or mention it.

Early afternoon swung around and we pulled up to an innocuous white tent set in the middle of a very busy town of dwarves. Emblazoned on both sides of the tent was a crest that what looked like images of the four elements. As we swung off our bikes and gathered our gear, two girls in white long dresses and silver capulets entered the tents, giggling with books in hand.

I nodded to the opening of the tent. "This the school?"

Caster unsheathed the last of his weapons and locked up his bike before turning to me and answering, "Yes, one of the entrances. It's the only school that accepts from all of the three planets without prejudice. It's a haven from the constant bickering and bad blood, meant to promote awareness and acceptance."

"Uh, cool." It wasn't like I could follow that up by saying Earth had the same thing. We didn't. Yes, there were international schools in different countries, but it wasn't the same thing. Not at all. The American school I'd gone to when I did my stint in Egypt, Reljek, didn't promote peace and acceptance. It didn't really do anything except berate the students that chose to go into art fields and prize the students who went into science ones.

Caster led the way as we walked through the tent. There was a moment of displacement, almost exactly like the one I felt with the red witches' tents, but it was slightly different. I shook off the feeling and took a step forward.

"Well damn." The school wasn't exactly a building, more like a giant metallic square nest. It surrounded me on all sides with a wide expanse of blue-black beyond it. There had to be glass or something, because it was completely clear beneath my feet, making me feel like I was perpetually falling.

All around us, students walked around like nothing was wrong, as if begin in a giant metal nest was total normal. "Come on," Caster grunted from a few feet in front of me. "We have a meeting."

The bag with the book in it tugged at my hip, pulling the thick strap tight across my chest. Adjusting it, I moved fast and sidled up next to Caster. Besides the nest, there wasn't much to see. It all sort of looked the same with all the students wearing the dress and capelet thing. We turned a few corners—Caster knew exactly where he was going apparently—and arrived at higher-ups office. I only knew that because there were three very ostentatious crests frosted on three side of the glass wall and the floor. After a second, a voice I recognized called us in.

Milan was sitting behind a glass desk when we walked in, wearing the same white dress thing, silver capulet, and a silver hat. All the walls were frosted glass and the two chairs in front of Milan's desk were silver. I detected a theme.

"Tilly, Caster," Milan nodded in greeting to us.

Caster bowed slightly in return. "Milan."

I nodded to the mage and barrelled ahead. "Well, I guess you know why we're here." I stepped forward and took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for Milan to dish out the goods. Book open, pen poised, the sooner we conducted this interview the better.

"My prodigy, Spell, disappeared two days ago," Milan began as Caster took his seat. "I didn't know that Spell was gone in the beginning, but after a day I suspected."

"Why only then?" Caster asked as I took notes.

"Mage prodigies often live separate lives from their creators. To not hear from Spell was not unusual. With all the disappearances, I became worried."

I scribbled down the important parts of the conversation, but it seemed to go along the same lines as the other three interviews we'd conducted. There was no evidence linking the missing persons to each other, and there were no other similarities besides their age. Not all of the teens had the same features, some attitudes, same likes and dislikes. There was no surface level connection that we could spot. Or maybe Caster wasn't asking the right questions.

"Milan," I interrupted the mage, pausing in my note taking. They both turned to me, Caster mildly irritated and Milan curious. "Did your prodigy do any volunteer work? Have any after school jobs? Romeo and Juliet love affair?"

Milan turned his multi hued gaze on me, eyes searching. "No to all three. It would be impossible for Spell to have an affair of any kind."

"Well, um . . ." Something just wasn't adding up here. Milan was a higher up in the hierarchy of the planets. Duke could call in a moments notice for a rogue human girl and Milan would be there. On top of that, the mage was a director of a school meant to promote peace and awareness. With a parent (or whatever Milan was to Spell) as important as that, there was no way the younger mage could run away. Kidnapping was also skeptical.