Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            A gigantic male with huge forward-pointing horns appeared before them. “Who here is wantin’ a ride?” The demon had ringing telephones strapped to his belt.

            Loa said, “Four phones, Deshazior?”

            “And they’re all a-chatterin’! Start another business, I says to meself. How hard could it be? I says to meself.” He cast Loa a heated wink. She smoothed her hair and winked back. Wrenching his gaze from the priestess, the demon gave Munro and Ren a jerk of his long chin in greeting. “I understand ye’re pressed for time, so shall we?” He offered his hand to Ren.

            Though she ached to return straightaway to her homeland, she hesitated.

            The demon tempered his voice to say, “First-timer, then? Where’re me manners? Ye must be Kereny.” He gently took her hand, enfolding it in his oversized paw. “I’m Desh, and I’ll be yer teleporter today. Loa texted that ye two have hit a rough spot of late”—his brows drew together, his demonic face earnest—“but I’m here to help ye through it.”

            Her intuition told her Desh was a trustworthy male. Perhaps there were, in fact, good demonarchies? “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, and she meant it.

            “Have no fears, luv. I’ll trace you in front of the nymphs’ inn as gentle as an egg laid into a nest.”

            She managed a nod.

            Munro asked Loa, “Are you sure you’ll be safe here?”

            “As my grandmother used to say, I’ll be safe as celery at a vampire convention. You know I have other tricks up my sleeve.” Boa had slithered over to coil around her feet.

            Ren avoided looking at the snake. “I appreciate everything, Loa.”

            The priestess smiled at her. “Thank the kindness of my heart—and Munro’s stout credit.” Before the demon traced them, she said, “Good luck with your quest to find the sorceress.” She cocked her head, as if listening to those spirits, then muttered, “Unless Dorada finds you first. . . .”





TWENTY-EIGHT





            Carpathian Foothills, Transylvania





            “I don’t know what’s more bizarre,” Kereny said, still wobbling. “That a demon just traced me or that he kissed my cheek good-bye.”

            That move had almost gotten a storm demon killed—not to mention Desh’s parting words to Munro: “Now the second twin is off the market! Nymphs the Lore over are weepin’ on this day. Who’s to service them if not for Hot and Hotter?”

            Kereny had raised her brows at that, but Munro had told her, “I’ve merely been practicing for the real thing.”

            Now she took in the bucolic scenery. Time stood still in this rustic valley. The historic-looking inn was a sprawling pastel building with equally colorful guesthouses scattered across the foothills.

            In the village, horse-drawn carts carried grain past medieval stone houses. A blacksmith’s hammer clanged like a metronome. Shepherds in old-fashioned garments tended their flocks.

            Munro spied nary a car or traffic camera.

            Kereny’s expression grew confused. “We’re in my time. We must be.” Even the summer season was roughly the same as the one she’d left.

            “Nay, we only changed locations and time zones. But I can understand why you’d think otherwise.” He inhaled the air, catching scent of nymphs, shifters, and fey. Loreans alone populated this time-capsule valley. Kereny was the sole mortal he detected. Which explained why Desh had traced them out in the open.

            In fact, Munro didn’t scent humans for hundreds of miles in any direction. The mortal towns the circus had protected seemed to have vanished. Mayhap because their protection had? “Have you ever been here before?”

            She shook her head. “How far are we from the fairgrounds?”

            “Dozens of miles, I wager. We’ll rent a truck.” Another glance around. “Or, rather, horses.” Down a winding lane was a livery.

            “This looks like the valley we last protected,” Kereny said, voice wistful. How maddening to be so close to her home physically, but a world away temporally. “I expected something more futuristic.”