and peering out windows to witness the slaughter.
Lifting his chin, he sniffed the air. His werewolf senses were attuned and he picked up the usual odors of faery presence and very little from humans. FaeryTown overlay this part of Paris. Humans could walk through and would never know faeries occupied the same space only on a different dimension. Humans hadn’t the ability to see faeries, such as he did.
The sudden sound of a human voice—crying—alerted Ry. He swung about to spy a woman in a fancy pink gown wandering along the brick wall that fronted a human-owned bakery, yet the faeries, in their altered dimension, used it as a dust den that lured in vampires addicted to their ichor. Hair pulled up and looking like a princess, the woman choked out tears and sobs. He noted the sparkly ears on her head. And the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks.
Why was he seeing her now? When he focused on the FaeryTown layer of this area, he saw only the sidhe and their ilk. Any humans present slipped away into the background. She was so vivid. Almost as if she treaded FaeryTown herself. But she wasn’t faery. Even though her gorgeous breasts sparkled above the pink fabric. That wasn’t faery dust, just glitter that women loved to dust all over themselves. No, she smelled human—coppery and tinged with the earthy presence of skin and bone and yet also a delicious overlayer of perfume and soft woman.
Ry shook his head. He shouted at her. “Hey! Get out of here! You can’t be here right now.”
She dismissed his worry with a swinging gesture of her hand and plopped down to sit on the curb. Her skirts fluffed around her, the hem edged with dirt, and...she was missing a shoe.
She should not be able to see him.
She sniffed loudly, then muttered, “Can you call me a cab? I seem to have gotten lost. My phone is here—” she patted her fluffy skirt “—somewhere...”
“I don’t have time for that.” Two minutes until midnight. Gripping the enchanted sword firmly, Ry swung it behind him, pointing toward the main street that edged the border of FaeryTown. “Get out of this area. It’s not safe. I’ll call you a cab later.”
“He dumped me!” she announced.
Ry winced at the woman’s utter lack of recognition for the imminent danger. There was no way she could be in FaeryTown unless she also had the sight or had somehow gained admittance. Humans couldn’t simply enter FaeryTown unless they could see it. And it appeared that she was merely wandering the streets...
Why was this gorgeous princess wandering about alone?
“Listen, Princess Pussycat,” he hissed. “Bad things are going to happen. Right now. So run!”
As he spoke the final word, the fabric between Faery and the mortal realm glimmered. The gray night sky above a two-story building tore and shimmered along the edges of that tear.
Ry swore. The woman on the curb still sobbed, her head caught against her open palms. He felt a moment of compassion for her. What asshole would be so cruel to such a pretty woman?
But really? Things were about to get rough.
Swinging his sword arm, Ry prepared as the first of the collectors entered this realm. The creature’s body was long and wispy, barely holding the form of a human. It was black, so black it was like peering into a void in the shape of the creature. And yet it sparkled with so much faery dust it was as though that void formed a black hole speckled with stardust.
Not about to become enchanted by the sight, Ry swung toward the approaching collector. It floated nearer, and when it spied him, it stretched its maw wide to reveal a piranha row of vicious teeth.
“What the hell is that?” the woman called.
“I don’t know how you can see this, but you need to listen to me and run!”
“I lost my shoe.”
“Mademoiselle! I’m serious!” He swung the sword but missed the collector.
It soared high, the wispy tail of its form spilling black, oily fog over Ry’s head. He swept the substance aside to keep an eye on the creature. Out the corner of his eye he again saw the fabric between realms glimmer. Always, they arrived in pairs.
“This is crazy,” the woman said. She stood and wobbled. Drunk? Had to be. “I need a cab. I can’t find my pocket. My skirts are tangled... Hey, that thing is swooping toward you!”
Ry averted his attention from the crazy lush sight of the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen to the sparkling black void that aimed for his throat. Its curved, sharp talons wrapped about his throat. Gagging, Ry stumbled backward. Slipping his sword arm back and thrusting the tip up, he managed to stab the thing, but not in the substantial main body, instead only in the wispy tail. It released him and, with a twist of its misty shape, soared toward its approaching partner.
“That way!” Ry pointed down the street. “Go!”
“What are those things? And why are you so angry with me? Can a girl get a break?” She now stood in the street not ten feet from him. “I have only ever tried to please people. And what do I get? Dumped at the ball. Todd is such an asshole.”
“Fuck Todd!” Ry said hastily.
“Right?”
One of the collectors took note of the woman. She wouldn’t have time to get to the street and out of FaeryTown.
Ry raced for her, grabbed her by the arm and shoved her between the dust den and another brick wall. She screamed and landed on her hands and knees, which he regretted, but only so long as it took for him to turn and dodge the lunging collector.
Now he was angry. And the twinge of a shift crawled across his scalp. His werewolf did not like these nasty things from Faery. Ry’s upper body, of its own volition, shifted. T-shirt tearing at the seams, his shoulders grew wider and his head assumed wolf shape.
Growling, Ry marched toward the collector and led it back to the center of the street. He swung his sword repeatedly. When it shot upward into the sky, hovering above him, Ry positioned himself below, waiting. In his peripheral vision he could see the other collector approaching the alley where he’d shoved the woman.
The creature above him dropped like a rock. He thrust up the sword, and it pierced the collector’s heart. Ichor spilled over Ry’s fur and wolf-shaped head and down his arms and paws. Without a death scream, the thing dissipated into black faery dust.
But the next sound sent a chill up his spine. The scream was not that of annoyance, drunkenness or a jilted woman. It was of fear—and pain.
The collector slashed a razor talon across the woman’s décolletage. She fainted. And the thing turned to gnash its teeth at Ry as he approached. Sword thrusting as he ran, Ry caught the creature as it lunged toward him. More black dust and the eerie, quiet dissipation of the collector in the air before him.
On the ground was a scatter of pink fabric. A sparkly rhinestone shoe peeked out from the fluff. The woman’s chest bled where the collector had scratched her.
Shaking off his werewolf with a seamless shift back to human shape, Ry bent over her. “Damn it, how did you manage this?” He touched two fingers to the side of her neck. The collectors’ bite was deadly to humans, but he wasn’t sure about their talons. The things were
