Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Boxset Books 4-7: The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf, The Remains of the Fae, A Midsummer Night's Clean, The Ghosts of Wrath: Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Boxset, #2

By Demitria Lunetta, Kate Karyus Quinn and Marley Lynn

Enjoy this fun, spicy, urban fantasy cozy mystery series! From the authors of the MYTHVERSE and POWERS OF THE ZODIAC paranormal series. This boxset collection has the last four books of this completed series in one bundle!

 

This boxset includes books 4-7 in the Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services, an all new paranormal mystery series filled with laughs and romance! Includes The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf, The Remains of the Fae, A Midsummer Night's Clean, and The Ghosts of Wrath.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Little Fish Publishing
• Release date: Nov 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201206284

Book preview

Clean Up Collection: Down & Dirty Box Set

Clean Up Collection: Down & Dirty Box Set

Books 4-7

Kate Karyus Quinn Demitria Lunetta Marley Lynn

Little Fish Publishing

Copyright © 2021 by Kate Karyus Quinn, Demitria Lunetta, and Marley Lynn

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

For Marley Lynn who really wanted to title one of the books in this series Madame Ovary.

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And for Demitria - who will never let her do it.

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But mostly for Kate, who doesn’t believe in false modesty and is really and truly indispensable due to her formatting of all books, making of covers, and general excellence of character

Contents

The Lying, The Witch, And The Werewolf

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

The Remains of the Fae

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

A Midsummer Night’s Clean

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

The Ghosts of Wrath

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Sneak Peek: The Midlife Lady’s Guide to a Bad Horoscope (Powers of the Zodiac Prequel)

Chapter 1

Sneak Peek: Fire & Flood (Mythverse #1)

Chapter 1

Also by the Authors

About the Authors

Acknowledgments

The Lying, The Witch, And The Werewolf

Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4

1

Iturned my boyfriend into a vampire, and now he won’t answer my calls.

Well, I say boyfriend, but it’s been three months since I’ve seen him, so I think it’s safe to say I’m officially dumped, and being dumped does not make a girl feel awesome…especially when I deserved it.

When I found him on the floor of his apartment, near death, Liam flat out told me to let him go, that he’d rather be regular dead than a member of the living dead. But I went against his wishes. I took that needle full of vampire venom and plunged it into his heart.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was me holding onto the last bit of normality I had. But it doesn’t matter now whether he’s normal, nice, British human Liam, or sullen, moody, vampire Liam.

Because neither one of them is in my life.

Well, not willingly. I’ve been keeping tabs on him, either as a result of guilt, love, or my complete inability to come to terms with our sudden severance.

I sigh and park my van in front of the client’s house, a nice modern two-story with a ton of windows. The woman who called to hire me had sounded young, and with a voice so low and husky I’d almost hung up on her at first, thinking it was another prankster trying to get me to have phone sex with them. Dad did warn me about going with the pin-up look for the logo for the Down & Dirty cleaning business, but it earns me more work than headaches, so I’ll take it. After chatting with the potential client a bit more, I decided she was legit. So here I am, ready for my appointment.

Before going in, I give my ex-sister-in-law and current housemate, Shauna, a call. Any difference? I ask.

Liam’s the same as he was yesterday, she tells me. He hasn’t left his room. He barely interacts with the other vamps in the house.

Thanks for keeping an eye on him, I say. As a fae-vamp hybrid, Shauna has access to Liam’s new world in a way that I don’t. It’s a lot to ask of her—three months of surveillance on my ex. But that girl owes me. She lives with me rent-free.

Like I said, my ex-human, ex-boyfriend was the last bit of normality I had.

No problem, but it’s starting to get creepy.

I’m just concerned for him, I say, sliding into the back of the van and gathering up my supplies.

Maybe the first week made sense for you to be concerned, when he lost his job and moved into a vampire halfway house, Shauna tells me. Now it’s getting stalkery.

Don’t joke about that, I say. I have my own stalker to deal with. VSK—the Vampire Serial Killer—is the whole reason Liam ended up like this. Is he getting enough blood? I ask, trying to dispel thoughts of VSK from my mind.

They limit his blood intake, Shauna reminds me. Newly-turned vamps can go crazy with blood lust if they get too much.

I know, I know, I say, slamming the van’s door a little too hard. Vanna gives me a honk and I apologize. Look, I gotta go. I guess you can stop shadowing Liam. He doesn’t want to see me. And he seems to be under control.

Okay, I’m going to hit up a Great Ghosting grief counseling meeting later. Wanna come?

No, I’m good. I’ve been to a few meetings with her, and though they make Shauna feel way better, they didn’t really do anything for me.

You can’t just keep everything inside, Paige, Shauna starts and I roll my eyes. She was a hot mess after her wife disappeared along with a bunch of other people, including my parents. One second they were there and the next—gone. No reason. No explanation. Just poof. That was nearly three years ago. Shauna got big into drugs. Then her brother died. She was a flaming dumpster fire.

Now that she’s clean—off the fae drug of choice, beauty—she thinks she’s my personal life coach.

Oh, gotta go, I say quickly and hang up.

Closing my eyes, lean against the van and allow myself a minute to feel my feelings.

The truth is, these last three months have been a struggle. My heart is like a rock inside my chest and the weight of it spreads to my limbs during the long afternoon hours. By the end of the day, my body is so heavy I can barely get up all the stairs to my attic bedroom.

I’ve had broken hearts before, but this is different.

If Liam had never met me his life would still be normal. Human normal, I mean. VSK targeted Liam because of me. He also went after my cop friend. Luckily, McGinnis got away, but he messed himself up pretty bad kicking his way out of VSK’s car and now clumps around in one of those boot casts. The last update I got from him, he said he might even need surgery.

I can’t stand the idea of VSK hurting someone else I care about. He’s been quiet since he went after Liam and McGinnis, but I know he’s not done. He’s just biding his time. All I can do is wait and hope that the next person he comes after...is me.

In the meantime, though, the bills still gotta be paid.

I lug my bucket and cleaning supplies to the front door and knock. A handsome twenty-something man opens it and grins. He’s covered in blood.

You’re here! That’s great, just...small hiccup, he tells me, moving aside so I can enter the hall. My wife is still in labor. I should have called, but it slipped my mind.

You have more important things to deal with, I tell him, eyeing the bloody footsteps on the wood floor. He could have thrown a freaking towel down at least.

It’s coming, someone shouts. The baby is crowning!

He rushes off and I follow behind to a large bathroom. A woman is in a tub filled with crimson water, and blood coats the walls. Between her legs is another woman, who also looks about twenty-five.

I have no idea how old any of them actually are. Vampires don’t age. If the wife’s super sexy voice over the phone hadn’t clued me in that my new employers were vamps, the smell of the powerful sunblock vamps use has done the trick. I smelled it as soon as I walked in the door, a little tang under the heavy smell of copper.

In a flood of blood, the midwife pulls the baby out and it cries, its wailing somehow endearing. My ears suddenly turn hot and I feel my face redden. The man rushes to his wife and I stand awkwardly to the side. I could come back later, but honestly, I’d rather scrub off the blood while it’s still wet—less work that way.

The midwife turns and smiles at me. Oh, looks like somebody might have a touch of baby fever!

What? I ask, backing away, warding her off with my mop.

You’re flushed, she says, reaching for my cheek. Her palm is cool against my skin and I relax a little. It’s the hormones, the midwife confides. Your body is reacting to the baby.

She gives me a quick once over, her vamp eyes assessing my human frailties. You’re what? Mid-fifties?

Thirties, thank you very much, I snap back.

Sorry, she shrugs. Vamps aren’t very good at judging human age. But don’t worry. She pats my wrist. You’ve got time.

I don’t—

This must be a lot, she motions toward my mop and then around the blood-spattered room. It looks like someone was murdered here. Vamps have more blood inside their bodies than is scientifically possible. There’s a particularly nasty gif circulating among the Humans First group of a vamp being hit by a car. He just kind of explodes like a water balloon. But one filled with blood.

It’s actually not my first vampire birth, I tell her and am pleased to see that now it’s her turn to be taken aback. I’ll start on the hallway, I announce. Then I’ll tackle in here.

Some people hate cleaning, but I like it. It’s satisfying to make something dirty look brand new. It also lets me focus on a simple, obtainable goal, instead of thinking about all the crappy things in my life.

Like my ex-husband Jax who is playing house with his new witch girlfriend. Or my ex-boyfriend Brent who is a murderer and Humans First senator. Or the fact that a vampire serial killer is obsessed with me...and forced me to turn my boyfriend into a vampire or let him die.

Hmmmm, maybe I shouldn’t call Shauna’s life a dumpster fire. People in flaming bins shouldn’t throw garbage.

By the time I clean the hall and start on the bathroom the happy new parents are all showered off and cooing to their new baby in the nursery. The woman looks like she just ran a 5k and then did a shampoo commercial, all sheeny and glowing. The dad looks at his wife and kid like they’re the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

He catches me staring. Sorry about the mix up. I booked you as soon as she started labor; I thought it would be like the others...done in twenty minutes. He laughs. But this little guy had other plans! He makes googly eyes at the baby and I can feel a tug at my heartstrings.

How many other children do you have? I ask.

This is ten, the woman tells me. I look around. There’s no indication of other children in the house.

Our other kids are grown, the man tells me. We like to wait at least thirty years before trying again. It makes things easier on us.

I nod. The couple do not look a day over twenty-five, but that’s the age most vamps look. How long have you two been together? I ask, more to be polite. I’m eyeing the bathroom down the hall. It doesn’t take long for all that bloody water to dry on the tile.

We just celebrated our half millennium, the woman says, not taking her eyes off the baby.

I nearly drop my mop. You’ve been together for five hundred years? I ask.

The man nods. A lot of vampires marry for political gain, but we fell in love. And once a vamp falls in love, well, we’re a fiercely loyal bunch.

I think of Shauna; she was born a fae and turned vamp, but she still loves Tina with a passion that I can only hope to one day feel for someone. I had thought Liam might be that person. And now he’s not a person anymore. Not a human, anyway. Now that he’ll live forever like any other vamp, it’s totally possible he’ll hate me for a half millennium. It’s not exactly the mark I hoped to leave on the world.

I trudge to the bathroom and try to lose myself in my job but I keep thinking about the vampire couple being together for five centuries. My marriage to Jax didn’t even last five years. My dating Liam lasted about five minutes.

We read about you on Friendbook, the husband tells me from the doorway. We appreciate all you’re doing for the supernatural community.

I just clean up people’s messes, I tell him.

That’s not true. You helped that vampire get away from the mob at the Humans First rally a few months ago. Plus you shut down that awful supe adoption agency that was stealing babies. And Super Au Naturel, what a shithole. We never went there, but you hear things. You got that place busted up.

I look up at him. I’m just really good at being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I tell him.

Well, a lot of supes are talking about you.

Greeeeat, I say. Business has picked up lately and my clients are all exclusively supernatural beings. I really do not feel comfortable being supe famous...especially if some of my old social media posts ever are dug up.

I wasn’t exactly kind about the influx of non-humans when it first began. I’ve changed in a lot of ways, but my Dad and I started this business as a way to help other humans clean up after a supe trashed their house—or their lives. I never meant to become a housekeeper to the paranormals. But I have to admit, most supes are friendlier than the average human. And they pay better, too.

Can I ask you about being a vampire? I blurt out. "I know someone who was recently turned…

The man shakes his head. Oh, that’s tough. Turned vamps have a really tough time. Is he limiting his blood intake?

I nod. I think so. He won’t really talk to me.

That’s normal. Turned vamps…—he shudders—they have it bad. It used to be that the vamp who turned another would be responsible for them. Make sure they didn’t go off the rails and drain an entire medieval city. Since we were all exposed, things have gotten dire. Newly-turned vamps are turning others. It’s terrible. He sees the look on my face but quickly adds, There are programs now, though.

He’s in a house, I tell him, my voice grows thick with emotion. The halfway house is the best place for him, but when I picture him there, I know with a certainty, deep in the pit of my stomach, that he hates it. Years ago vamps tortured him and his mother. To be surrounded by them, to be one of them—I cut off the thoughts, knowing I’ll just spiral into a dark place.

Clearing my throat, I add, It’s for newly-turned vamps.

That’s good. They know what they’re doing. He turns to go back to the nursery but I call out to him.

What’s it like being with the same person for five hundred years? I ask.

Eager to answer, he turns back around. When it’s the right person, it’s fantastic. Honestly, it feels like time has flown by. I look forward to the next five hundred years.

I smile, though I’m sure it looks strained. That is...so...great… I say between clenched teeth.

Fuck vampires and their pure eternal love.

I mop up the blood and try not to think about how nice that actually sounds.

2

After I scrub every little bit of blood from the vampires’ house, I head back to my office.

Well, I say my office, but two months ago a freak hurricane took the roof off the building my office was in. New Jersey didn’t get weather like that when I was a little kid, but ever since the supes and gods came out of hiding, sometimes a hurricane just happens because someone with too much power is having a temper tantrum.

Insurance paid out on my stuff that was destroyed, but didn’t cover a new office space. In an unfortunate bit of timing, I’d just recently drained my rainy-day savings buying my housemate new shoes (long story) and I was even more broke than usual.

In the end, I had no choice but to share. I quickly discovered that a lot of businesses were not interested in going halfsies with me once they realized I specialized in supe clean-ups. I was seriously considering working out of the back of Vanna when a certain werewolf P.I. made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

I stare at the window of our joint office. One side has my logo, the Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Service with the cute maid, modelled on yours truly. The other side has Nico’s logo: Eye Wide Open Investigations, which pretty much looks like the Eye of Sauron, but less vagina-like. I sigh and get out of Vanna, who gives me a conciliatory honk. One day I’ll have enough money to get my own office again.

But today is not that day, I whisper to myself as I pull open the door. I let out a sigh of relief, no Nico. I’m not avoiding him, exactly, it just makes life easier when I don’t see him. He’s all animal magnetism and simmering sex…

Um-hem, someone clears their throat and I whirl around. A very attractive middle-aged woman sits in the waiting area. She eyes me.

Can I help you? I ask.

I’m here to see Nico Tralano, she informs me.

I sigh. I don’t know anything about his schedule…

Her perfect eyebrows form what I’m sure she considers to be an example of mock outrage. I decide not to tell her she just looks constipated. Isn’t it your job to know these things?

Um…no? I say, honestly confused.

If you insist on keeping up the sass, I’m going to complain directly to your boss, she warns me.

Ohhhh… I say. I don’t work for Nico Tralano. I’m not his secretary.

Well then who is, and why isn’t she here? the woman demands.

I sigh. I’ve never been known for my incredible tact and patience, but Nico has done me more than a few favors in the past. The least I can do is not run off his newest client.

Do you have an appointment? I ask. I go over to his desk, which is a complete mess. Shuffling papers, I find his mouse and shake it to wake up his computer, which is ancient. Supes are not great with technology, and Nico refuses to upgrade his electronics until they’re completely dead. The system he has at the moment gives a half-hearted whir followed by a sharp ping from somewhere inside. It’s not a good noise, and even worse is the trail of smoke rising up from the processor.

Time to upgrade.

I don’t have an appointment per se, the woman admits. She stands, her six-hundred-dollar shoes clacking on the floor. I know how much those shoes cost because my housemate Darron gave me a crash course in expensive footwear when my pet Dalmanther chewed through his collection.

Then there’s really not much I can do to help you, I say, backing away from Nico’s desk and the smell of melting plastic.

She clutches her expensive purse. He told me to stop by any time…

Suddenly, I understand. I put on my own face that implies mock outrage. "You must be one of his many clients that engage in his services which fall outside of the contractual P.I. agreement."

And by that I mean, he also fucks the women who are pissed that their husbands are cheating on them. It’s not a bad deal for Nico. He catches the husband, consoles the wife, and then cashes the check.

She glares daggers at me, but doesn’t exactly turn tail and leave. Nico’s dick must be even more magical than I thought.

Shall I remove you from his client list? I ask, reaching toward the keyboard. It’s a pure bluff, which she must know. There’s a burning smell coming from the computer, but even the implication that she might not see Nico again sends her into a well-manicured flutter of hands.

Of course not, simply let him know that I am no longer interested in coming at— With a fake cough she quickly corrects herself. "Coming to his place of business. I want you to tell him that we will only meet at my home from now on."

She apparently didn’t get the message that I don’t work for Nico, and I’m about to correct her again when she adds, And you’re not invited!

Oh, I’m usually not, I assure her. "Nico likes to stick to one-on-one or all out group sex. Nothing in between. He says a ménage à trois is only for bored people without the creativity for a full-blown orgy."

I...well…I… I don’t know if I’ve flustered her or if she’s seriously considering the orgy offer, but she backs out the door in something of a panic, so I assume the first.

I lick my finger and draw an imaginary point in the air. Paige Harper, 1. Rich bitches, 0.

I turn to Nico’s workspace and shake my head. No matter how often I offer to clean it up, he refuses. Still, I can’t resist at least shuffling the papers into a neat pile away from his computer where they’re least likely to catch on fire. As I stack the smaller items on top, I notice the rental bill from the office management company. I should pay it without him knowing. I have some extra cash. He does that kind of thing to me all the time, an aggressively nice action that puts me in his debt.

I look at the bill and almost drop it; rent here is not what he told me it was. It’s five times more. I thought I was paying him half, but I’m barely paying him a tenth. I put the bill down and back away.

I know it’s nice of him to keep the truth from me and pay for a larger share of our office. But I also know it’s manipulative and underhanded. Nico isn’t my husband. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even a friend, really. But I can’t seem to get him out of my life.

Maybe I should just set up something at home. It’s not as professional, but most clients call or book online. I’d have to do it somewhat quietly, because I don’t think running a business out of your home is allowed in my neighborhood. Plus there’s my housemates. Shauna is a bit less obnoxious since getting clean, but she’s still got a big personality and no personal boundaries. Darron, who sometimes goes by Daphne, is a free-spirited Drag Queen. And then there’s my Dalmanther named Shit who has the cuteness of a puppy and the bloodlust of a panther. Plus there’s the occasional gifts that VSK leaves for me—dead cats, dead vamps, humans-turned-vamp.

Sigh. No way I can make it with a home office. Clients will be running down the street trying to get away.

I go to my own—perfectly pristine—desk to get some paperwork done. I’m pleased to find that the invoice for the vampire baby cleaning job has already been submitted, and paid. Hepa—a witch with a rare specialty in tech—revamped my whole site after I saved her from a super messed up situation at a raunchy sex club. Now invoices automatically send after I complete a job. If the client doesn’t pay after three days a reminder is sent. If they still haven’t paid after a week, Hepa hexes them so that they can’t spend any money at all until they pay me first.

I sit back in my chair. I have definitely changed over the last year. If you told me six months ago my invoicing system would be magic-based, I’d have laughed my ass off. But here we are.

The bell above the door dings and Nico Tralano walks into the room carrying a bundle of mail. It’s hard not to watch him. He’s two hundred pounds of muscle and angst. He lost one of his eyes when he was a teenager—a bad break-up, as he tells it. The eyepatch just makes him look like a sexy urban pirate. If he weren’t so insufferable I’d hoist his mainsail and…

Paige, he nods to me. I close my mouth and wipe away a bit of drool.

Hey Nico. Nice...weather today, I say lamely.

I’ve been trying to patiently wait and see if Liam would come around. We had so little time together, but it’s time to face facts: he doesn’t want to be with me. And I don't blame him. I made the choice to save him by turning him into a vampire against his will. That’s on me. But I’d make the same choice again and again. I’d rather he hate me than be dead.

But a girl has needs. I’ve noticed that Nico has a musk. Sometimes I have to leave the office when we’ve both been there too long. I usually take a drive, go get donuts, try to think unsexy thoughts.

I’m definitely not ready for another boyfriend, or even a fling with a guy. Pretty much I want to keep other bodies out of the whole scenario. If I was a better person, I would’ve taken a vow of celibacy after what I did to Liam.

Instead, I splurged on a Thunderstick Vibrator. Ten thousand five-star reviews on Amazon, and all those women can’t be wrong.

Speaking of which, I was meant to receive it today. I check the tracking number to see where it is in the postal system. If it arrives maybe I’ll knock off a bit early, take a nice bath, listen to music, light some candles…

The computer is telling me that the package was delivered and signed for. I look at the signature. Oh no. Please no. This cannot be happening.

Um...Paige? Nico’s voice is questioning, amused.

I do not want to turn around. Yeah? I ask, my voice breaking. I pretend to type on my computer.

Well, I got this package that I didn’t realize was for you. He actually laughs. I want to die.

Oh? I make a big show of being really engrossed in work. First I squint at my computer like there’s something upsetting there, then I flick through papers on my desk—

The bright purple Thunderstick lands on my desk with a THUNK. Wow, the reviews that said it was solidly made were not kidding. It’s thick and long and heavy.

And exactly what I need.

Nico has a lot of nerve laughing. At least I don’t screw my own clients! I mean, sure, he’s been doing less of that since we’ve been sharing a space. But sometimes I come in at the same time one of his clients are going out and I can smell the scent of sex in the air.

Of course, Nico pretends he’s some sort of Mother Theresa type. He tells a client that yes, her husband is cheating on her and then nobly wipes her tears and fucks her back onto her feet. No wonder he gets so much repeat business.

Well I’m not gonna let Nico shame me for having needs.

My hand closes around the Thunderstick and I heft it like a dumbbell at the same time that I raise my gaze to meet Nico’s eye straight-on.

Congratulations, Nico, you cracked the case. This is indeed a vibrator. It is mine and I will be going through a lot of batteries in the near future.

Instead of backing down, Nico just grins at me. Actually, it looks rechargeable. Convenient and way better for the environment. He tosses the charging cable onto my desk. Seems there’s a remote too. Nico holds the tiny square with about five thousand buttons on it up so that we can both examine it.

Give that to me, I say, snatching it from him. In my haste, I press on the buttons and the Thunderstick rumbles to life in my hand. Not only does it shake, but it spins too, with enough power to rival Darron’s smoothie blender.

That’s a lot of horsepower, Nico says in a low rough voice, his single eye still fixed on me, intense and burning.

It is, I agree, my voice also slipping into a lower register. I run my other hand up and down the rotating shaft. Nico shudders. Our gazes are still locked together as he reaches out and his hand covers mine, moving with it. Now there’s the cold plastic of the Thunderstick beneath my palm while Nico’s hot strong hand encloses my own.

There’s a little bathroom at the back of our office. I can imagine leading Nico there, both of our hands still on the Thunderstick. I’d lock the door and then the two of us could do our own thorough review.

It could be so hot. And so fun. It’s been so long so Liam and I—

Liam.

Our one and only time was on a romantic date. We had sex on a picnic blanket under the stars. Getting off with Nico and a Thunderstick in a bathroom that stinks of Dollar Tree fake pine cleaner sounds like the solution to a very depressing sex-themed game of Clue.

And that’s a game I don’t want to play.

I hit the remote button again and the Thunderstick goes quiet. Jerking my hand away from Nico’s touch, I drop the vibrator into my desk drawer.

I shouldn’t have had it sent to the office, I say, as if that’s the problem here.

Clearly frustrated, Nico runs a hand through his hair. You can send whatever the hell you want here. I didn’t purposely open it.

No. I give him a tight fake smile. It was unprofessional and I apologize.

I don’t want your apologies, Paige, Nico growls. I want— Planting his hands on my desk, he leans in. I want you to be okay. I hate seeing you torn up like this.

Oh. That’s not exactly where I thought he was going with that statement.

I’ve got a lot of experience in cockblocking hot, sexy, panty-melting Nico. But concerned and caring Nico is a whole different animal.

The tears that I usually hold back until I’m in the shower fill my eyes. I’m okay, I say.

Bullshit, he counters. You jump at shadows and startle whenever a car door slams.

I’m not used to sharing an office, I lie. The truth is, I have been on edge. The more time that passes without another move from VSK the more tense I get, because I know he’s going to strike sooner or later.

Paige, Nico says, his voice coaxing and gentle. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.

To me? I stare at Nico in surprise and then a horrible laugh comes out of me. It’s an ugly broken sound. You think I’m worried about myself? VSK hasn’t touched me. Not once. He’s never even tried. Instead he went after my enemies and when that wasn’t enough he started to take down my— I was going to say friends. But Liam was more than that. I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t stand over someone else I care about and have to decide whether they live or die.

The tears I’d been holding back break free, streaming down my face. I cover myself with my hands, not wanting Nico to see. A moment later his arms close around me and press me to his chest. I breathe him in, letting myself have this small moment of comfort—and then I push him away.

I’m fine, I say, pulling up the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe my face. Just give me some space, okay?

I snap the words out, hard and mean, needing Nico to back off.

And he does.

All right, he says, heading for the door. I gotta run an errand anyway. But you can’t fight VSK alone, Paige, he tells me and then the door shuts before I can respond.

Not that there’s anything to say. Because Nico’s wrong. There’s only one way to get VSK and that’s to keep doing what I’ve been doing—isolate myself and wait for that son of a bitch to come and get me.

3

Igather my stuff to leave, planning on going home and seeing if I can possibly still get off on the cold plastic of the Thunderstick after feeling Nico’s arms around me—when a man enters and makes a beeline to my desk.

Hello, I tell him, glancing up. I’m not a secretary. At his desk, Nico laughs.

His so-called errand only took fifteen minutes and he came back with a bag of donuts that he then left on the corner of my desk. I made the supreme sacrifice of eating two just so Nico could see his gesture was appreciated.

I swipe a hand across my mouth, just in case some glaze is still sticking to my lips. Meanwhile, the man adjusts his glasses. He’s probably mid-thirties, a bit dorky looking, rocking khaki pants and a polo shirt. He screams disposable income.

Erm, sorry, I’m not looking for a secretary. You’re Paige Harper, right? I’m here for you.

Great! I motion him to the chair on the other side of my desk. How did you hear about me, Mr…

Bennet. You can call me Gary.

Fantastic, Mr. Bennet...Gary. How did you hear about Down & Dirty?

Friendbook. You have a lot of glowing reviews.

Good to know! Hepa must have upped my Friendbook presence. That girl is magic. Literally.

And what can I do for you?

It’s about my sister.

I nod, not quite understanding. You want me to clean for your sister? Like, as a present? Or would this be a recurring job? I try to not let my voice sound too hopeful.

He shakes his head. No, he looks around. Sorry, I think we have our wires crossed. I don’t want you to clean for me. I want to hire you as a private investigator.

You do? I ask, truly confused, then deflated. I think the two logos on the office window might have led you astray. I’m not—

You’re the one that saved that vampire girl during the Humans First rally, right? And shut down all those horrible businesses that were taking advantage of supes?

I’m not a licensed P.I., I acknowledge. But I can direct you to someone I know, I glance at Nico who is pretending not to listen to our conversation.

"No. I want you. It’s a long story…" He shifts in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable.

Would you like something to drink? I ask. A tea or coffee? Or a shot of whiskey? I think to myself.

Yes, that would be great. He looks over to Nico. Coffee, two sugars, no cream, he tells him. I smother a grin and try not to put another imaginary point into the air. He thinks Nico is my assistant. Paige Harper, 2. Toxic masculinity, 0.

Nico stands, his look somewhere between amusement and annoyance. I’ve played the secretary for him enough that he behaves, though. Anything for you, boss? he asks me, putting an unnecessary snark on boss.

I’ll have my usual, I tell him. I add a, Thanks hon, just to mess with him. If he was closer I’d smack his ass, but I’m pretty sure sexual harassment works both ways so that might be pushing it.

Nico prepares the coffee while Gary starts on his story. It all started with this podcast, he explains. Together We Go...Come Together…

Together We Come? I ask.

That’s the one. It’s all about… He lowers his voice. Sex.

I’m familiar with it. I’ve known a few people who were devoted to the philosophy, which can be boiled down to the idea that humans and supes should just bang out our differences. Literally.

I do love it when I can use the word literally in a sentence correctly.

That’s exactly the word. Vicky is devoted. She tried to get me involved, but I’m a married man. My wife thought it was a bunch of new age kooky nonsense, and I had to agree. Also, I’m not going to sit there and listen to sex stuff with my sister. He looks traumatized just talking about it.

Nico brings over the coffees and I take mine without looking at him. I take a sip and almost choke. There’s a healthy serving of whiskey in there. I wish he didn’t know me so well. I raise my eyebrows at him and he winks at me. Hard to do with just one eye, but somehow he manages. Nico leans against my desk, waiting for the man to continue.

It was fine when it was just the podcasts, but then she started reading the books and doing the online chats. Finally she up and moved to the compound to live the Together We Come life.

You want us to get her out? Nico asks.

No! Gary shakes his head. Maybe. I don’t know. She’s a grown woman, I get that. And I know that Together We Come is sex-positive and all about female empowerment. The leader is a woman, for Pete’s sake! I just want you to...check it out, I guess. Make sure she’s doing okay. I haven’t heard from her in months. If she’s healthy and happy and this is how she wants to live, fine, I’ll respect that. I just have to make sure it’s not a–he lowers his voice again–cult.

I nod.

Paige can go in, Nico says. "She’ll spend a few days pretending to be one of them and make sure your sister is okay.’

I nearly choke on my coffee for the second time. If the client wasn’t sitting right here, I’d ask him what the hell he’s thinking. But since he is, I simply force a smile and say in a tight voice, Let me check my schedule first, Nico.

Of course, Gary says. I understand that this would be a big job and take you away from other work. He opens his wallet and extracts a thick stack of cash. The top one is a hundred dollar bill and I got a feeling the rest of them are too. What will it cost for expedited service?

Double, Nico says without hesitation. Plus all expenses.

I have to clench my hands in my lap to keep from reaching for that money. It would go a long way towards helping me secure a new solo office location. I probably can move some things around on my calendar.

Great, Gary says, sounding like everything worked out exactly the way he knew it would. Must be nice being able to carry around wads of cash in your wallet that can bend the world to your bidding. If everything looks on the up and up, I’d just like a few pictures and a full report.

That won’t be a problem, Nico smoothly assures him. I shoot him a look that communicates how I feel about that. It looks like I’m the one going undercover, so I’ll also be the one having to take sneaky pics and that seems like the type of thing that would fall squarely under suspicious behavior inside of a sex cult.

Now if the cult is what I fear, Vicky will need to be taken out of it. With or without her consent. Be deprogrammed.

Nope, I say quickly before Nico can once again tell Gary what he wants to hear. I’m not kidnapping a grown woman who is somewhere of her own free will. If the cult is bad, I will take her aside and present the evidence. After that, it will be her decision whether or not she wants to stay.

What if she’s drugged...or worse? Gary demands.

If she’s drugged then she’s not there of her own free will. At that point, taking her out wouldn’t be a problem.

Gary frowns, but to my surprise, Nico nods. Paige and I are in agreement on this. I doubt you’ll find any PI willing to go further, but… Nico pushes the stack of bills back in Gary’s direction. You’re free to try.

Gary hesitates and I can see he doesn’t like having to bend on this. Even though he thinks I’m the PI, he does seem more inclined to listen to Nico. Oh, the fragile male ego. I just want the best for my sister.

As do we...er...as does Paige, Nico says. Now if you’d like to move forward, I have some paperwork over here and I can give you a receipt for your retainer.

Gary stands and follows Nico over to his side of the office. Even though I’d been about to leave, I sit down at my desk again and pretend to work while Nico has Gary sign a contract. Finally, Gary heads out, though not before stopping at my desk again.

Looking forward to working with you, he says. I appreciate you taking this case on.

Of course, I say graciously, because I have better sense than to tell him I couldn’t say no to that large stack of cash.

The minute Gary leaves, I let my client face fall. What the hell, Nico? We’re working together now? You volunteer me for undercover work without even asking first?

As usual, my outburst bounces right off Nico. You're short on cash, he says. And I had a feeling Gary is pretty plump in the pockets. I figured you’d jump at the chance to do a little PI moonlighting.

He’s right, damn it. But I’m not done giving him a hard time. I want to know what you’re paying me for this job. I want it in writing. And I want to be treated like an equal—especially since I’m doing the dangerous part.

Nico snorts. I’ll pay you half what Gary pays me and I’m happy to get a contract written up. As for you doing the dangerous part… Nico moves towards my desk in a way that clearly demonstrates what he is—a hunter. Even walking on two legs, the animal inside him is so obvious.

From what I can tell, it’s a mix of supes and humans going through a lot of lube trying to fuck their way to world peace. They’re lunatics, but they’re harmless. If I were you, I’d think of it less like going undercover and more like an all-expenses paid vacation.

I narrow my eyes at Nico. Then why aren’t you going?

He smiles. Because I’m well known in the supe world. Chances are I’d be spotted by someone I know right away, and the cover would be blown.

I gesture to the door. "A client came here looking for me. It seems that I’m getting to be pretty well known, too."

Yeah, as a human who likes to help supes. You’re the perfect person to join We Come Together.

Okay, fine. I cross my arms over my chest. And are you expecting me to join in the orgies too? ’Cause if I wanted to be pimped out, I’d go work for Canwella.

Nico rolls his eyes. Enough with the drama, Paige. It’s a free-love place. No one’s gonna make you have sex. I know for a fact that you are fully capable of flirting and cock-teasing without ever giving out.

I shoot up from my chair. Fuck you.

No, you haven’t, he growls back.

Grabbing my coat and bag, I stomp toward the door. Find someone else for your undercover job.

Paige, wait. Nico grabs my arm. I hold my whole body tense, refusing to give in even as he adds, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.

Yeah, it was, I mutter.

I’m not used to sharing my space. It’s hard having you under my nose all day. It’s...frustrating. The way he says frustrating doesn’t seem like he’s talking about my eating the last donut today or forgetting to refill the paper in the copier. It seems more like he’s talking about the same frustration I feel of having him near and wanting to be even nearer.

Nico releases me and takes a step back. But I stay where I am.

It’s not a spa weekend, he says. But I do think it might be good for you to get away for a few days. You said Shauna’s been doing well, so have her pick up some of your cleaning jobs. Give yourself some time away from worrying about VSK or anything else.

I swallow. I’m at once touched by Nico’s concern, but also certain he’s manipulating me. Having me go undercover will help earn him a good chunk of change—even after splitting it with me.

There’s no sense in saying no just to spit in Nico’s eye. And Gary might be the type of jerk who throws around cash to get his way, but he also seemed genuinely concerned about his sister. I can help someone, earn extra money, and—yeah, Nico’s right—having a few days away from my regular day-to-day life might actually be nice.

I want eighty percent, I tell him. My case, my money. Or no deal. I’m bluffing. I need the money, but I’m not going to let Nico walk all over me.

He tilts his head. Sixty percent.

I let my eyes narrow and fold my arms. Seventy-five.

Seventy, and I do the prep work. His face is amused, like he loves arguing with me. I have to admit I don't hate our back and forth either.

All right, I say. I’ll do it for seventy percent. I go to his desk and count out the money, taking my cut. Expenses, I tell him. He makes no move to stop me.

And with that I quickly head out the door before I can change my mind again…or ask Nico to give me another squeeze for good luck.

4

Figuring out what to wear to go undercover into a supe-human sex cult is not easy.

It doesn’t help that the only person available to assist me is Shauna, who has thrown open the doors to my closet, fingers tapping her chin while she is deep in thought, her pixie wings fluttering erratically.

"We want something that says, I’m down to pound...right?"

No, I say from where I lay on the bed, an arm thrown across my eyes. I’m not down. I’m infiltrating this sex cult for business purposes only.

And I’m sure that the Thunderstick is a write off for the office, huh? Shauna asks, her wings picking it up a notch as I guiltily nudge the vibrator under the edge of my quilt. Look, Paige. She flops onto the bed next to me, the mattress barely moving under her tiny frame. I know you’re upset about Liam, we all are.

You didn’t even know him, I argue from under my arm.

I kind of did, she tosses back. I mean, I met him and I thought he was okay, for a human. You know that takes a lot for me to admit, right?

Yes, I acknowledge. It’s the truth. Shauna was just about as anti-human as I was anti-supe when we first met. We've both changed, I think, as I peer out from under my elbow.

I really really think it sucks that he’s a vampire now, she says, then has to fight very hard to keep a straight face.

Bad choice of words, I tell her.

Ha! she bursts out, laughing. I’m so hilarious, I even make jokes by accident.

She takes in my look.

Sorry. That was...what do you call me a lot?

Inconsiderate. Clueless. Lacking in empathy.

Yeah, that stuff. My point is, Liam was a good guy. And now he’s a vampire. But he’s kind of being a dick to you and that’s just the way things are. So—she claps her hands together—there’s basically nothing stopping you from really going vagina-to-the-wall with this cult gig.

You’re probably right, I say, sitting up. But the problem is that I’m just not that interested in sex right now, I lie.

Unless it’s with Nico, I have to admit to myself. And I’m going to push that thought even further down than the one where I’d briefly considered asking Liam to turn me into a vampire so we could live together forever in blissful harmony.

Except…would it be so blissful? One of the things that attracted me so much to Liam was how normal he was, how human. He was supposed to anchor me back into my real life, the one where I had parents and a business. I don’t know if I want a future with him where we never age and pop out a new kid every thirty years.

I don’t know if I want that with anybody.

"If you’re not interested in having sex, you’ve at least got to watch, Shauna insists, You know, a voyager...a voyerer…"

Do you mean voyeur? I ask.

Yeah, that! she tells me, leaping up from the bed. Otherwise, why would you even show up at Together We Come?

My bedroom door blows open and Shit, my Dalmanther, leaps onto the bed, nosing at my hands in search of a treat. Dalmanthers are the unfortunate outcome of a panther shifter having an experimental night with a Dalmatian. They’re part cat, part dog, wildly intelligent, and unfortunately known for tearing the faces off of their owners.

Luckily, I still have my face—and Shit’s undying affection.

Unluckily, Dalmanthers answer to the first loud sound they hear from their new owner, which in my case was the swear word I shouted after the puppy Nico gifted me jumped out of his crate and lunged at me.

Darron follows shortly behind Shit, wiping perspiration from his brow. I tried to keep up with him, he says, tossing a chewed chain onto my bed. But that dog is strong as a bull and runs like a cheetah.

Panther, I correct him, eyeing Shit as he noses around my blankets, having picked up the scent of the Thunderstick. I shove it deeper under the quilt. If Darron spots this gigantic vibrator, I’ll never hear the end of it.

Thanks for walking Shit, I say, inspecting the chewed chain. Guess we need another lead for him?

Or a taser? Shauna suggests, then suddenly lights up. "That would be a great accessory for you in the sex cult. It can totally be your kink. You can be like—you want to tap, you get the zap."

"Or, to get in my trap, you’ll have to zap, Darron supplies. What sex cult is Paige joining, anyway? And —he turns to me—great choice. This is what you need, honey. Really clean those cobwebs from your cooch."

Behind him, Shauna is still going. "What about, to spread my flaps—"

Enough! I yell, and Shit jumps to attention, a low growl vibrating in his throat. I put my hand on his back to calm him, but his bristles only go down slightly.

First, I tell Darron, pointing at him. I’m not joining any sex cult. I’m going undercover at the Together We Come compound for a work-related matter.

Did they hire you to clean? Darron jumps up and down. Paige, this is great news! You’ll be disinfecting every day! We can buy a new TV! He high-fives Shauna. And a choke-chain! He offers a palm to Shit, who glances at me, notices my scowl, and doesn’t reciprocate.

No, they didn’t hire me to clean, I say through gritted teeth. I’m going in undercover as a possible candidate for a job I’m working with Nico.

Darron’s eyebrows go way up at my mention of Nico. Even since Nico and I started our office sharing arrangement, Darron has gotten in the habit of asking me, How was work? Bang Nico yet?

Not wanting to deal with that question or hear anymore commentary about the cobwebs in my cooch, I quickly add, It pays even better than a cleaning job. So a new TV is definitely in our future.

Oh, well in that case, Darron spins on his heel, executing a perfect turn. I know it wouldn’t matter if he was wearing tennis shoes or six-inch stilettos. Girl’s got moves.

He joins Shauna in eyeing my closet contents. I think we can put something together here, he mutters, flicking through hangers. Something that says, I’m interested, but not really available. Charming, but aloof. Smoldering, but not sexy.

He pauses a second, then turns back to me. Sorry, you’ve got nothing. Everything here is either Bettie Page or if Kurt Cobain were a girl.

I flop back on the mattress, any interest I’d had in the project evaporating.

It’s okay, honey, Darron says, joining me on the bed, his hands easing out a kink in my shoulder. "You know my drama club just put on Mamma Mia. I’m sure I can raid the costume closet and come up with something just right for an abstinent girl moonlighting in a sex cult."

Good idea, Shauna says, joining us on the bed. But don’t cults have like, uniforms or whatever? Jumpsuits or prairie dresses?

I don’t know, actually. I have to do some research.

Both would be hard to wear to an orgy, Darron says thoughtfully. If it were me, I’d go for easy access, like those warm-up pants basketball players wear, that just rip off.

Stripper pants! Shauna yells. Oh course, those are perfect for group sex!

What is this? I ask. My crash course on orgies?

Of course, neither one of them even acknowledges me. My housemates have no sense of boundaries.

I’ll just do a Google… Shauna thumbs through her phone, eyebrows creased. Have you looked up anything about this group at all?

No, I say, unease rising in my gut. I know that it’s sex-positive and founded by a woman. Supposedly all the members are there of their own free will. I’m going just to do a wellness check for my client’s sister, just to make sure that’s all true.

That’s all you knew before you agreed to this? Darron asks, gesturing for Shauna to hand over her phone.

Argh, it kind of is. With Gary Bennet flashing his cash and Nico breathing down my neck.

Not exactly, I huff. You know Charms, right?

The cathouse?

Yeah, I confirm. Charms is an under-the-table, off-the-books brothel run by an ogre madame named Canwella. She has both human and supe employees—as well as customers—and a healthy gambling business in the basement, too.

One of Canwella’s girls ran off to join them, right? Shauna asks. She twirls one of her pink pigtails around her slim finger.

You remember that? I ask.

Since I’ve laid off the beauty my memory is just like… She makes a chopping motion with her hand then does a little pew pew noise.

Darron and I exchange a glance, then he shouts out, Laser focused! like we were playing charades. Shauna nods happily, her pigtails dancing.

You really get me, she tells him. You’re like the gender-fluid uncle I never had.

Darron beams and puts his hand over his heart. Thanks honey. You’re like the manic pixie niece I never knew I wanted.

Anyway, I continue, Seraphina, the mermaid I told you about, got hooked in by the podcast and ended up joining the group. I remember something she said… I close my eyes, thinking hard. It’s hard to recall because at the time I dismissed it as a bunch of faux spiritual mumbo-jumbo. It was something about reaching her best future by leaving her past behind.

Ick. Darron pulls a face. That is classic abuser speech. Separating people from their past means creating a yawning abyss between them and the people who love and care for them.

Shauna frowns. Um, I thought you said this was a sexy fun times cult? Not a we’re gonna wash your brains type thing.

I can see my two roommates are on the verge of freaking out. Which is sweet. But also a little bit suffocating. They know I’ve been having a hard time with what happened to Liam, and they’ve tried their best to pull me out of the doldrums. Unfortunately, sometimes their idea of cheering me up is calling me in the middle of the work day to tell me we’ve got a rat infestation. I rushed home in a panic and ran into the house only to find a male stripper dressed as an exterminator in my kitchen. Of course, I didn’t realize he wasn’t a real exterminator until he ripped his clothes off and started grinding against my refrigerator door. The guy was cute, but putting butt prints on my stainless steel was a real turn-off.

Now that I think about it, a few days away from them—and their belief that getting laid will solve all my problems—sounds kind of great.

"It is a sexy fun times cult, I assure them, before they try to convince me not to go. Nico’s already looked into it and he wouldn’t send me anywhere that I’d be in actual danger. And Seraphina had lots of problems; she needed to leave her past behind. She was very introverted, scared of a lot of things. At the time, it seemed to really help her, so no, I’m not overly worried about going in there."

Well, that’s not exactly a proof of safety, Darron says, now scrolling through Shauna’s phone. And did you know about this? He turns the screen so I can see, revealing a badly photoshopped picture of a Dalmanther wearing a crown on his head.

Apparently they revere Dalmanthers, Darron says, reading aloud to me. A direct result of inter-species love, the Dalmanther represents the epitome of what can be accomplished when we acknowledge our animal drives—and act on them.

I snatch the phone from him. They’re not dog-fuckers, are they?

Beside me, Shit lets out a high-pitched whine.

"No, quite the