Great Hexpectations, A Paranormal Romance / Urban Fantasy

  “I’m worried, Dulce. Can you go check on him? Make sure he’s okay?”

  I sighed, long and hard. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go check on him, but I was suddenly worried that maybe it was just an innocent situation. Maybe he’d simply overslept (um, he’d never done so in the time I’d known him, but anyway) and my arriving on his doorstep, when he hadn’t bothered to return my call, might become an embarrassing state of affairs. Especially if he had company.

  Damn, Dulcie, what is wrong with you? Why do you keep thinking he has a woman over? I reprimanded myself. And I was right—I was being a total idiot. If there was the slightest chance that Knight was in trouble, I needed to put my personal feelings aside and make sure he was alright. That’s all there was to it. “Yeah of course I will. I’m headed there now.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep thinking good thoughts.”

  I stood up and cradled the phone between my head and shoulder as I grabbed my stretch pants, which were draped over my chair and pulled them on.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find him,” I said before hanging up. Grabbing a long-sleeved shirt from my closet, I yanked it over my head and reached for the Op 6 which was underneath my bed. Even though the Op 6 was a small gun, similar to a Smith & Wesson five-shot revolver, the length just spanning the width of my palm and fingers, the dragon blood bullets were lethal to all Netherworld creatures.

  I snatched my shoulder holster from my night table and, securing it around myself, fitted the gun inside it while reaching for my leather bike jacket. Glancing at the keys to the Suzuki, which were just beside the keys to the Ducati, I delayed for only a second. The Ducati was faster and if I needed nothing else at the moment, it was speed. I grabbed the Ducati keys and started for my bedroom door, running hell-bent through my living room. I paused long enough to grab my helmet and then started for the front door, exiting as I locked it behind me.

  The sun met me full bore and I pulled on my sunglasses, my mind racing with thoughts about Knight. Was he in trouble? Was he hurt? Had Jack somehow gotten revenge? I pushed the thoughts from my mind, focusing on my first hurdle which was to go to Knight’s house. What if he isn’t at his condo? Where should I go next?

  “Just focus on one thing at a time,” I said to myself as I hurried down my front steps, reaching the Ducati in mere seconds. I threw my leg over the seat, secured my helmet on my head and turned the bike on. It purred beneath me and, pulling onto the street, I gunned it.

  It usually took me about ten minutes to reach Knight’s upscale neighborhood from my less-than-desirable area but when I turned down his street only moments later, I wasn’t even sure where the time had gone. I parked the bike and turned off the engine, removing my helmet before placing it on the seat. Then I jumped down and inhaled deeply as I started for Knight’s door.

  Hopefully, this whole thing would just be a matter of over-sleeping. Hopefully, Knight just wanted a weekend to himself where he could ignore his phone and somehow, he’d forgotten it was Monday morning. Hopefully, there wasn’t anything questionable going on; and I was doubly hopeful that I wouldn’t find a woman in his house… Guess I was about to find out.

  I strode up to the front door and pounded my fist, knocking twice before I remembered his doorbell. I buzzed. After waiting a few seconds and realizing no one was coming to answer it, I rang the bell again. And waited. Nothing. I rang it again. And waited.

  I had to face it, Knight wasn’t home. I tried turning the doorknob and found it was unlocked. Hmmm, something was very definitely rotten in the state of Denmark because Knight never left his doors unlocked. When you work with criminals every day, you very quickly learn how important locks can be.

  I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called for backup. It wasn’t smart for me to do this alone. After hanging up, I put the phone back in my pocket and started searching the perimeter of Knight’s condo, just to see if anything seemed out of the ordinary—broken windows, open doors, ripped screens, etc. After securing the perimeter, I came to the conclusion that nothing seemed unusual or looked as if it had been disrupted. If someone was responsible for Knight’s… disappearance, (for lack of a better word), he probably knew who that someone was. In any case, it didn’t appear like anyone had broken in.

  I walked back around to the front of the building, pretty sure that anyone that might have been here was long gone but, still, I wasn’t about to take any chances. Not until I had backup as my aid. So I waited.

  I don’t know how long I waited—maybe five minutes. But while five minutes might not sound like much, to me, it felt like forever. And I’m sure it had everything to do with my replaying visions of Knight in all sorts of distressing situations. At the five minute mark, the urge to go to him was too much for me to ignore. Hoping I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake, one which I might regret for the rest of my life or, worse, not live to regret, I started for his front door.

  I pushed the door open and glanced around his living room, noting that nothing seemed out of place. I didn’t call out to him, afraid I might alert any possible interlopers. Instead, I pulled the Op 6 from my shoulder holster and held the gun pointed down in front of me, in low ready stance. I glanced around the room, assessing any threats. The couch could hide someone as well as the dark corner, leading into the kitchen. I took a step into the living room from the doorway until I was barely a foot or so inside, my back against the wall.

  I walked the perimeter of the room, inspecting both sides of each couch to ensure no one was hiding behind them. When I reached the wall, beyond which was the kitchen, I kept my back to it, and with my gun in low ready, pivoted on my toes until I was facing the kitchen. Nothing. Nothing out of place, nothing disturbed, nothing.

  I didn’t stop. I continued forward, into the hallway which led to the master bedroom and the guest room. Good thing I’d been in his condo before because I knew exactly how many rooms and bathrooms I’d have to secure.

  After seven minutes, I found myself at the entry of the living room again after checking the rest of the house and with no leads at all. Nothing was disrupted, no doors busted, no windows broken, no furniture overturned. No one had broken in. His bed hadn’t even looked slept in. It was as if he’d never even been here…

  I heard the sound of footsteps in the front entry, announcing the backup I’d summoned and I started for the living room.

  “It’s Dulcie O’Neil,” I shouted. “Don’t shoot me!”

  When I emerged from around the corner of the hallway, facing the living room, I found Trey standing before me, frowning with the worst rash I’d ever seen covering half his face. It looked like he’d fallen into a tub of poison oak.

  “Why the hell are you in here by yourself?” he demanded, his hands on his hips. “You should have waited for us.”

  Behind him was someone I didn’t recognize. Probably my replacement since I’d quit the ANC several months earlier.

  “I couldn’t wait,” I said, giving him an expression that said he better not try and argue with me.

  “And?” he commanded, puffing out his lower lip until he looked like a blowfish with rosacea.

  “Knight’s not here and from what I can see, it looks like he hasn’t been here in days.”

  Trey nodded and glanced around the room, as if half expecting Knight to jump out from behind the curtains. Luckily for both of us, and the ANC in general, Trey had the ability to psychically see glimpses of the past. His gift was about to come in very handy.

  “Hold on a sec,” I said as I started for Knight’s bedroom. Walking inside, I opened his closet and pulled one of his long-sleeve shirts from the hanger. I brought it to my nose, smelling his aftershave. Good, he hadn’t washed it. The washing machine had a way of dimming any trace of personal essence from clothing—essence that was imperative in assisting Trey with his ability to recreate the past.

  Smelling Knight’s spicy, masculine scent was almost overwhelming and I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick. Worry gnawed a
t my stomach and the idea that he was in trouble, that maybe he’d been in an accident and was lying in a ditch somewhere or maybe someone was holding him for ransom against the ANC. Or, worse yet, maybe he was…dead?

  No! I wouldn’t allow myself to even consider the possibility. Knight was a soldier for the Netherworld, trained in combat—he wasn’t someone who went down easily. He’d been created by the god, Hades, to defend the Netherworld. He had to be alive. I didn’t know how I knew it but it was a gut feeling. Yes, he had to be alive.

  I started for the hallway and into the living room, handing Knight’s shirt to Trey. He took it with a silent nod and closed his eyes, his mouth twitching as he attempted to channel the side of him that could see into another plane.

  “You can do it, Trey,” I said in a soft voice.

  He didn’t respond but clenched his eyes even tighter, his fist grasping the fabric of Knight’s shirt. And then, it was as if an earthquake struck him. His eyes flew open at the same time that a tremor seized his body and he began to shake. He glanced at me, his eyes wide, but he wasn’t seeing me. He was looking right through me. Remembering a time when Knight had witnessed one of Trey’s visions, I grabbed Trey’s wrist, hoping I’d see into his head the same way Knight had been able to when he touched the hobgoblin. But, nothing happened. It was just another Loki trait that wasn’t shared by fairies. Oh, well.

  I didn’t drop my grip on Trey’s wrist, mainly to let him know I was there for moral support. Sometimes his visions frightened him and I could only hope this one wouldn’t qualify. Because if it did…no, I wouldn’t allow my thoughts to go there.

  Think positive.

  Knight is going to be fine. Knight is going to be fine. Knight is going to be fine.

  Trey blinked a few times and then dropped his head. He took a deep breath and glanced at me and his eyes were still wide with what appeared to be fear.

  “What was it, Trey?” I asked, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly. “What did you see?”

  “He was here. Knight was here,” he started and then seemed at a loss for words.

  “What happened?” I said, not intending for my voice to sound so panicked. I also didn’t realize I was squeezing his arms until he attempted to wriggle out of my hold.

  “He was in his living room and someone was calling him. He reached for the phone but before he could answer it, they just sort of…showed up.” He shrugged and looked at me as if to ask if any of his garbled explanation made any sense. It didn’t.

  “Who showed up, Trey?”

  “I don’t know. They were dressed in uniforms and looked like military, maybe or maybe like cops. But not like human cops or ANC.”

  “What color were their uniforms?”

  Trey chewed on his lip. “Um…they were grey.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  I nodded, we were getting somewhere. No, the ANC didn’t have grey uniforms. Not here on earth anyway…

  “Where did they come from, Trey?”

  He shook his head. “It makes no sense. They just showed up in his living room, like out of thin air. Like they just dropped in from the sky or something.”

  It was a portal. They’d come from a portal and they were wearing grey law enforcement uniforms. I knew this because Quill had told me a long time ago that the only entrances to the Netherworld were via portals. Obviously, that information had been hush- hush because even Trey wasn’t aware of it. “Then what happened?”

  “They said they were here to take him into custody and he didn’t even fight them, Dulce.” Trey shook his head like it didn’t make any sense. “He put his hands out and let them cuff him and he even said he thought they ‘wouldn’t have taken their sweet ass time about it.’” He paused for a few seconds and then shrugged. “And that’s all I got.”

  I nodded and felt a shard of panic piercing me. I knew exactly what this meant, exactly who these assholes were.

  “What was that about, Dulce?” Trey asked.

  I glanced up at him and answered, barely recognizing my own voice. “They were from the High Court of the Netherworld, Trey,” I started and then swallowed hard. “They’ve arrested him for something I did.”

  Six

  As soon as I discovered that the ANC of the Netherworld had Knight in custody, I wasn’t sure what to do. I had no experience with the Netherworld—I’d never even been there. From what I understood, the Netherworld existed in the same spatial plane as Earth. Knight had described it as a cake with multiple layers—the Earth existed in one layer and the Netherworld on the next layer. As I mentioned earlier, the only way to travel from one layer to the other was through a portal. However, where those portals existed and how one accessed them was anyone’s guess.

  Although I didn’t know much about the Netherworld in general, I did know that anyone who had been there once, knew enough to stay away. Most creatures dreamt of coming to Earth, but the immigration policy between Earth and the Netherworld was strict. Why? In order to maintain the balance; otherwise, Netherworld creatures might outnumber humans.

  So now I was pretty much stuck. Other than sitting back and allowing the ANC to take care of the situation through their avenues of justice, I really had no course of action. And I’m not the type of person to sit back and let things happen, especially when I was the cause of Knight getting caught up in this whole mess. Yes, something else was entirely my fault…

  Back when I first met Knight, we worked a case involving a Kragengen shape shifter who was eating some of the less than civilized members of the Netherworld community in Splendor. I discovered my boss and friend at the time, Quillan, had defected to the other side. Knight and I had busted Quill and his cohorts at an abandoned house outside the city limits and I managed to detain Quill. I fully intended to take him into custody but he slipped away from me. Well, to be honest, I had my Op 6 pointed at him but he probably knew I wouldn’t pull the trigger, so he simply walked away.

  That moment has plagued me since it happened. I knew then as well as now that I could never have pulled the trigger. Not when I was fully cognizant that the dragon blood bullets would have killed him. Netherworld creatures just can’t handle the toxins of dragon’s blood and Quill, being an elf, was no match. What it came down to was that I just couldn’t do it—I couldn’t shoot him and I hadn’t come up with any other ideas at the spur of the moment to detain him, so I reluctantly let him go. I wasn’t angry with myself that I hadn’t been able to shoot him, especially because he was unarmed—I was angrier with the situation. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I could have done to arrest him, to ensure that he wouldn’t get away.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my already frazzled mind. What was done was done so there was no use in crying over it now. The real bummer of the whole situation was the fact that the ANC was well aware that Quillan had escaped. Knight, being the hero that he was, had insisted it was his fault when we both knew it was entirely mine. And now Knight would suffer for my mistake.

  It was a fact I couldn’t stomach as I tried to imagine the crap he was in now. I didn’t know much about Netherworld law, other than hearing their punishments were brutal. They still practiced more along the lines of medieval torture than innocent until proven guilty. But who knew? Maybe those stories were merely that—embellished stories. The worst part was that I had no idea what was happening—whether Knight was being tortured or merely being held in a prison cell, awaiting trial. The suspense of not knowing was driving me crazy.

  I took a deep breath and picked up my phone as I collapsed into my sofa and propped my feet on the coffee table. I pretty much had already made up my mind as to what my next steps would be. Actually, I’d reached this conclusion as soon as I realized the ANC had Knight.

  I glanced at the phone pad and dialed Dia’s number. As head of the ANC division in Moon, I hoped she could give me some information as to Knight’s whereabouts and how I could reach him.

  “Diva here,”
Dia trilled in her sing-song voice and then giggled. She was one of those people who had no problem laughing at herself, which was one of the reasons I liked her so much.

  “Hi D, it’s Dulcie.” I couldn’t help the dejected tone of my voice. There was so much on my mind, so much to explain and I didn’t know where to begin.

  “Girl! How ya been?”

  I sighed. “Not good.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked in a level but concerned tone. I didn’t have many girlfriends outside of Sam but I definitely considered Dia among that small circle.

  I took a deep breath and thought about the best way to relay the information, finally deciding on the most direct route. I had no time to explain the whys and hows of it. “Dia, the ANC Netherworld has Knight.”

  “Oh no,” she said as she exhaled. She was quiet for a few seconds.

  “I need to do something about it.”

  “Oh hell no, Dulcie girl! Doncha even think about it, you hear me?” I had to give it to her; she was quick.

  “I have no other choice. I can’t let Knight face punishment for something I did, Dia. It’s my fault he’s there.” I paused as the weight of what I was saying began to sink into me. “I have to go to the Netherworld, Dia, and get him out. I have to tell them the truth.”

  “I get that, girl, and I see where you’re coming from but you need to promise me you will push any thoughts of going to the Netherworld right out of that stubborn head of yours.”

  I swallowed hard. “I can’t promise that, Dia, and, what’s more, I…I need your help.”

  “Oh hell no,” she said and I could tell she was shaking her head in her Diva like manner even though she was on the phone and I obviously couldn’t see her. “Bad idea, Dulcie, bad idea.”

  “There’s no other way,” I insisted. I was resolute. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Have you ever been to the Netherworld?” she asked in a voice a parent would use on an unruly child.

  “No.”