Magic Graves by Ilona Andrews, Jeaniene Frost Page A

wipe the floor with him.
    The vampire appraised me in the same way I looked him over; thorough, assessing, and unafraid. All the while, that little smirk never left his face.
    "Beautiful, aren't you?" he commented.
    Something about him seemed familiar even though I was sure we'd never met. His cockiness would certainly make him memorable.
    "So, you want to talk more?" I went on. "Or should I just start whipping your ass for trespassing and probable assault?"
    I was now close enough that I could see his eyes were the color of blueberries, but he didn't react in anger. Instead, his grin widened.
    "If you weren't my relation, I'd be tempted to take you up on your flirting."
    The idiot thought I was hitting on him? That annoyed me into missing the first part of his sentence, but then I froze.
    "What do you mean, relation?"
    The only family I had above ground consisted of an imprisoned vampire father, a ghostly uncle, and a newly-undead mother. Yet the conviction in his tone and the steady way he held my gaze had me wondering if he was telling the truth. Good Lord, was it possible that my father wasn't the only vampire in my family ancestry?
    He traced a line in the dry leaves with that long stick, his brow arching in challenge.
    "Haven't figured it out yet?" He gave a mock sigh. "Thought out of everyone, you'd be most attuned to the similarities, but appears not."
    Word games weren't the right move with me. I gave his long blond locks and intentionally outdated shirt a withering glance. "If you're trying to double as Lestat, then sure, you nailed it with the similarities."
    He snorted. "Thick little kitten, aren't you?"
    Something dark dropped down behind him, but before the vampire could whirl around to defend himself, he was enveloped in a punishing embrace. Moonlight glinted off the blade Bones held to the vampire's chest.
    "No one calls my wife that but me," he said in a deadly silken voice.
    The vampire twisted in a futile attempt to free himself, but iron bars would've been easier to pry off. His thrashing drove the tip of Bones's knife into his chest, darkening that white lacy shirt with crimson. More struggling would only shove the blade deeper, and if that silver twisted in his heart, the vampire would be dead the permanent way. He stilled, craning his neck to peer back at the man restraining him.
    In that moment, seeing their faces so close together, the first inkling of realization slammed into me. It seemed impossible, but...
    "Bones, don't hurt him!" I said, reeling at the implications. "I-I think maybe this isn't about Annette's attack."
    The vampire shot me an approving look. "Not so thick after all, are you?"
    Bones didn't move the blade, but his hand tightened around the hilt of the knife. "Insult her again and those will be your last words."
    A pained laugh came out of the vampire. "Here I thought teasing one's relation was normal."
    "Relation?" Bones scoffed. "You're claiming to be a member of her family?"
    "Not by blood, but by marriage," the vampire said, drawing each word out. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wraith, and I'm your brother."

A QUESTIONABLE CLIENT

Ilona Andrews

    The problem with leucrocotta blood is that it stinks to high heaven. It's also impossible to get off your boots, particularly if the leucrocotta condescended to void its anal glands on you right before you chopped its head off.
    I sat on the bench in the Mercenary Guild locker room and pondered my noxious footwear. The boots were less than a year old. And I didn't have money to buy a new pair.
    "Tomato juice, Kate," one of the mercs offered. "Will take it right out."
    Now he'd done it. I braced myself.
    A woman in the corner shook her head. "That's for skunks. Try baking soda."
    "You have to go scientific about it. Two parts hydrogen peroxide to four parts water."
    "A quart of water and a tablespoon of ammonia."
    "What you need to do is piss on it..."
    Every person in the locker room knew my boots were shot. Unfortunately,