MIRA

Sweat slicked Mira’s chest, soaking her bra and rose-colored blouse. She wiped a wrist across her brow, scattering droplets, and glared at the Arizona sky. She’d been forced to leave her truck two miles back when the “road” she was following narrowed to little more than a scraggly footpath. Yucca, prickly pear, and sage marked the edges of the trail, carpeting the rolling hills between saguaro sentries. She passed the latest in an impressive collection of Keep Out signs. This one sported three rusty holes that were probably punched by a well-aimed .22 and suggested that, if she continued along her present path, she might end up with similar holes in her person. Beyond the sign, a barbed-wire fence circled the weathered ranch house that was Mira’s reason for undergoing this hundred-degree death march.

<Charming.> The internal voice—a not-quite-copy of her own that came from the incorporeal being who shared her skin—echoed in Mira’s head. <Maybe you two could be roommates,> the demon continued. <You clearly have a lot in common.>

Mira rolled her eyes and continued past the thorny border with its cautionary signs.

The front door of the house swung open, shattering the desert silence with a screech of rusted hinges. A woman stepped onto the covered porch. She wore flip-flops, denim shorts that covered hardly any of her long, slim legs, and a baby tee. She also held a rifle aimed at Mira’s chest.

Mira stopped where she was, staring at the straw-haired woman brandishing the source of the sign’s violent decorations. “You planning to shoot me?”

“It’d serve you right,” the woman called back. She raised the rifle, resting it on her shoulder, and set one hand against her hip. “You call three months not making me wait?”

“I’m here now,” Mira said with a shrug.

ViVi pursed her lips, as if debating whether Mira’s tardiness was reason enough to shoot her. Apparently deciding it wasn’t, ViVi said, “Kick the dust off your boots and get in here.” She spun fast enough to swish her blond ponytail and went inside, causing another scream of abused springs.

<Like looking in a mirror,> the demon teased.

Sure, Mira responded in the relative privacy of her mind, except for the extra five inches, blond hair, and perpetually sunburned complexion.

<Details.>

Mira kicked her boots against the porch steps, knocking a few strips of peeling, white paint loose from the gray boards, and followed her host inside.

Crossing the threshold to ViVi’s house was like stepping into another world. The faded paint and rusted fixtures of the exterior encased a hi-tech stronghold that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Bond movie or Batman’s cave. Monitors on the walls showed live-stream videos of the trail Mira had just traversed, as well as all the other angles of approach that didn’t have relatively easy-to-follow paths. There was even drone footage showing the various antennae on top of the building which made the house look like a tiny, silver-and-white porcupine. Counters, desks, and shelves filled most of the interior space, all piled high with various devices and electronic components. Clearly ViVi didn’t do a lot of in-person entertaining.

Mira could relate. ViVi’s secretive nature was one of the reasons Mira trusted the tech-wiz hacker enough to work with her.

“Pull up a chair,” ViVi called.

Mira carefully navigated the maze of things she couldn’t even begin to identify until she reached ViVi, who was pouring lemonade in a blessedly clutter-free kitchen. Red and white hexagonal tiles covered the floor, light streamed through a window above the sink, and a wooden rooster with the words Bless This Mess written in cursive across its chest hung on the cream-colored wall next to the door. Mira pulled out one of three wooden chairs, none of which matched, and sat down at a small table tucked into one corner of the kitchen.

ViVi put the pitcher she was pouring from back in the fridge, set one glass in front of Mira, and took one of the other seats at the table. Ice clinked as she took a long drink. Mira followed suit. The tangy-sweet liquid filled her, easing the heat that had built up during her long walk. Her glass was nearly empty when she set it back on the table.

“Thirsty much?” ViVi asked with a chuckle. “Maybe you should carry water when you walk through a desert.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t live in the middle of nowhere,” Mira shot back. “Or at least maintain a usable driveway. You’re a pain in the ass to visit.”

“Says the woman who never stays in one place for more than a week and only uses burner phones.”

<We totally have a real phone now,> the demon chimed in, though the words never left Mira’s lips.

That’s only for Ty, Mira reminded the demon. I don’t want anyone else to know I’m carrying what’s essentially a personal tracker in my pocket.

ViVi snapped her fingers, drawing Mira’s attention back from her internal exchange. “I see you haven’t gotten any better at focusing since your last visit.”

“Sorry,” Mira said, heat creeping into her cheeks. “What did you say?”

“I said you of all people should understand wanting to fly under the radar.”

“Right,” Mira said, shifting uncomfortably. ViVi didn’t know Mira was a rifter—a demon-possessed human. At least, Mira didn’t think ViVi knew that about her. More likely she thought Mira was just an unregistered magic-practitioner. Still illegal but not shoot-on-sight scary, which was most people’s reaction to the word “demon.” Since ViVi’s skills and hobbies also resided on the not side of legal, the women had adopted a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy that served them both well. “So what’s this job you need done?”

ViVi tapped one manicured finger against her glass, making condensation droplets run to the table. Mira held back a cringe. Judging by the various rings and stains on the table’s surface, ViVi probably didn’t own coasters.

“I need you to catch a stray cat for me,” she said at last.

<Did she say “cat”?> The demon’s frown pulled at the corners of Mira mouth.

Aloud Mira said, “You called me out here for a stray cat?”

“Yes, but hear me out.” ViVi raised a placating hand. “It’s a fae cat. In Earth terms, a nekomata.”

Mira’s frown deepened. Her eyebrows drew together. “Never heard of it.”

“They’re native to the Illusion Realms.”

“So how’d you get one?” Mira asked.

“As trade for a job I did for a fae.”

“And it got away?”

“Yes, well . . . I probably should have done a little more research before I accepted the trade,” ViVi said, “but he was just so cute. It turns out they get quite a bit bigger than I was thinking . . . and hungrier.”

<I bet I know where this is going.> The demon’s amusement leaked through.

Mira scowled. “Let me guess. They eat people.”

ViVi nodded. “Eventually. Right now he seems content with wildlife and the occasional cow, but the local ranchers aren’t happy. They’re blaming wolves at the moment. I want you to catch Mr. Snuffles before the locals figure out what’s actually killing their livestock and call in the Paranatural Task Force . . . or worse.”

“Mr. Snuffles?” Mira asked.

ViVi glared. “That’s what I named him. You got a problem with it?”

Mira raised her hands. “Nope.” She studied ViVi. Fae creatures, animals native to the fae realms, usually stayed in their natural habitats, but they occasionally wandered into the Mortal Realm. Then it was the PTF’s job to round them up. But because of their rarity, there was quite a call for fae beasts on the black market. If ViVi got hers through a trade . . . could she be working with poachers?

<Does it matter?>

Of course it does! Mira liked ViVi, but how well did she really know her? The hacker certainly had no problem breaking laws when it suited her. Would she hesitate to traffic in living creatures?

“You’re looking at me funny,” ViVi said. “What’s up?”

Mira shook her head and forced a smile. “Just wondering why you’d accept a fae creature you knew nothing about as payment for a tech job.”

She frowned. “I already told you. He was cute.”

“That’s it?”

“Look.” ViVi took out a smartphone, pulled up a picture, and slid the device over to Mira. The screen showed sapphire-blue eyes staring out of a football-sized ball of white fluff with a pale-blue patch over one eye and ear, faint striping on his front paws, and a dark tuft at the end of one of his two tails. “Tell me you wouldn’t want to snuggle that.”

<Wow. That is pretty cute.>

“Okay,” Mira said. “Assuming you’ve done your research now—”

<Better late than never.>

“—what can you tell me about nekomata?”

“They’re smarter than your average cat. Maybe even smart enough to understand human speech. They like meat, obviously. The fresher the better.” ViVi took another sip of lemonade, then leaned back in her chair. “Being illusion creatures, they’re good at blending in. They can disguise themselves as other creatures, change size, even go invisible by some accounts.”

“Wonderful,” Mira said flatly.

“But I don’t think Mr. Snuffles can do all that yet,” ViVi said hurriedly. “He’s only a baby.”

Mira nodded. “Anything else?”

“Try not to hurt him. He’s not evil; he’s just doing what comes naturally.”

Mira crossed her arms. “So you want me to catch Mr. Snuffles and bring him back to you, unharmed.”

“No! I want you to catch Mr. Snuffles and take him to a fae reservation. The fae who handed him over said I could train him if I could get him to respect me, but . . . well, that obviously didn’t work out, since he ran away. He’s too much for me to handle on my own, and if the black-market poachers or PTF find out he’s here, he’d either be sold off or put down. I can’t protect him if I can’t control him. He needs to go home. His proper home.”

<Guess she’s not trafficking in fuzzy fae critters,> the demon said.

That’s a relief. Mira downed the last of her lemonade.

<We should call Ty, get his opinion on the best way to catch the little beasty,> the demon suggested. <Maybe he’s dealt with a nekomata before.>

Mira choked at the mention of her missing “partner” and had to pound on her chest to clear her windpipe.

“You okay?” ViVi asked with concern.

Mira waved the question away. “Fine.” Responding to the demon in the relative privacy of her mind, she said, We’ve hunted worse than a magic house cat before. We’ll be fine on our own.

<A house cat that eats people.>

All cats eat people, given half a chance.

<I just think it might be nice to get a little more background on it. That’s one of the main perks to working with a PTF agent, after all. That and the toys.>

You just want me to call Ty.

<That’s what I said.>

But not for work, Mira clarified. You really need to get over this whole matchmaking kick you’re on.

<I have no idea what you’re talking about,> the demon replied with false innocence.

Mira shook her head, exasperated. Let’s just focus on the job. But even as she tried to reorder her thoughts, her mind circled back to Ty. She hadn’t been keen on the idea of working with a human partner at first, especially one employed by the PTF—an organization that would execute her just for existing. But Ty was all right—more than all right, even—and they’d made it work. They’d become a team, performing good deeds across the country when the PTF was too busy or too inept to do their job properly. But not this time. He’d ditched her in Texas to go on a solo mission in Boston. No explanation. Just, “I’ve got something to take care of,” and a promise to call when he was done.

It’s fine, Mira told herself. I needed to visit ViVi anyway, to repay her for that hacking work she did in Florida. But Ty’s secretiveness bothered her. If he was working with other PTF agents—the most likely reason to leave her behind—why not just tell her? What kind of job was he on?

“Earth to Mira.” ViVi waved her hand in front of Mira’s face. “Damn, you really are a scatterbrain.”

Pushing aside her frustration with Ty, Mira said, “Where can I find Mr. Snuffles?”

ViVi leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I think he’s hiding in the slot canyons northeast of here. Those would give him plenty of cover while providing easy access to the cattle grazing on the nearby ranches.”

Mira nodded. “Got a map?”

#

Mira’s Ducati Scrambler skidded to a stop, allowing the cloud of red dust kicked up in her wake to overtake her. She coughed and waved a hand to clear the air. A gentle breeze tugged at her hair and carried the dust away, though a thin layer clung to the leather jacket that was roasting her under the afternoon sun. She’d come to the end of the service road that ViVi had marked on her map. Wood-and-wire fences bordered either side of the service road—boundaries of neighboring ranches that utilized the access. Shading her eyes, she surveyed the cactus-and-brush-covered hills sloping up to a collection of red rock buttes. The only movement came from heat shimmers rising off the land and a circling hawk above.

“Guess we walk from here.” Parking her motorcycle in the shade of one of the scraggly pines that dotted the landscape, Mira took off her helmet and jacket, adjusted the backpack holding her water and rope, and started walking toward the rock formations. Now that the roar of her engine was gone, the constant buzz of insects filled the air with white noise, though the bugs paused as she passed, creating a traveling bubble of relative quiet around her. She caught sight of a brown snake slithering beneath a rock and decided she’d made the right choice in wearing her jeans despite the oppressive heat of the Arizona afternoon.

After twenty minutes, she paused at the mouth of one of the narrow canyons that split the nearest rocky outcrop. Taking a deep breath of dry air, she wiped her forehead and took a swig from her water bottle.

<You sweat too much,> the demon complained.

Mira rolled her eyes and took another drink. One of the many downsides of having a physical body.

<At least Ty isn’t here to see you melting like an ice cream cone.>

Picking a strand of sweat-soaked hair off her forehead and smoothing it back into her ponytail, Mira muttered, “Who cares what Ty thinks?”

<Um, you?>

Ignoring the demon’s comment, Mira entered the canyon. The breeze, which had only been an occasional wayward gust on the plains, became a constant wind pushing against her back, as if encouraging her to venture deeper. She ran her hand over the rough red rocks that sloped up beside her, marveling at the effect wind and water had had on the landscape. As the path narrowed and the canyon walls rose above her, she felt as if she were walking down the throat of some giant beast that had swallowed her whole.

<So what’s the plan here?> the demon asked.

“Since when have you cared about plans?”

<Since Ty’s plans have cut down on the number of injuries you sustain during hunts.>

Mira snorted. “The plan is to find Mr. Snuffles, hogtie him, and take him to the reservation.”

<That’s it?>

“That’s it.”

<Seems more like a series of hopeful outcomes than an actual plan.>

“Excuse me?”

<Ty’s plans usually involve more . . . planning.>

“The plan is fine.”

The demon shrugged, twitching Mira’s shoulders. <If you say so.>

Mira wound through the labyrinthine canyons. Patches of yellow lichen and tufts of dry grass clung to crevices in the wider sections, while some passages held nothing but striated red stone that narrowed until Mira could have touched both sides without fully extending her arms. Shelves of rock and deep cracks in the steep walls meant the nekomata had plenty of hiding places even where nothing grew. Mira stopped at a fork in the path. “There are a lot more of these canyons than I was expecting,” Mira said. “How far do you suppose they go?”

<No idea,> replied the demon. <That’s the kind of thing Ty would have figured out ahead of time.>

“Yeah, yeah.”

<Maybe you should yell, “Here kitty, kitty.”>

“Maybe you should track it in the Rift,” Mira shot back. “We’ve got to be close enough by now.”

The demon boiled to the surface, pushing Mira’s consciousness into the background. Mira let herself fall away. The world took on a smoky quality as her vision shifted from the physical world to the Rift—the chaotic space between realms from which all demons came. Flickers of light flashed through the blue-gray fog. Sparks of life and energy that shone like lanterns. A rosy glow drew Mira’s attention to the left. The demon receded. The fog faded. Mira blinked, and the world was once again solid.

<There’s a fae energy source a little to the west of here,> the demon said.

“I saw it.” Mira took the path to the left, wishing there was a more direct route.

<You’re welcome.>

The air in the slot canyons was hot and oppressive despite the wind. The burning orb of the sun shone almost directly above, pushing the shadows to narrow strips against the rough red stone.

Mira wound her way west, circling back whenever a particular passage took her too far in any given direction. “We’ve got to be getting close.”

A scraping noise followed by the plink of gravel tumbling over stone drew her attention up and to the right. A flash of white vanished onto a ledge above.

Finally. Mira crouched at the edge of a wider section of canyon and waited.

Another flash of white and a skitter of rocks marked the nekomata’s passage.

Mira slipped the backpack off her shoulders and pulled out the nylon cord she’d brought, tying a slip knot in one end. Get ready.

<I’m always ready,> the demon replied.

A white-and-blue face poked out from a small hole in the rocks to Mira’s right. The nekomata’s pink nose twitched. Wide eyes the color of a summer sky split by vertical pupils studied her. It sniffed, let out a tiny squeak of a sneeze, and brushed one fluffy paw over its nose.

<Damn, that thing’s even cuter in person.>

Mira held perfectly still. No threat here.

Mr. Snuffles crept forward, head cocked to one side, ears swiveling with every sound. He was about the length of Mira’s arm—big for a house cat, and certainly much larger than the fluffball in ViVi’s picture. The twin tails that marked him unmistakably as a fae beast swished in agitation. Red dust clung to his long, white fur. His attention stayed fixed on Mira as he approached, as if daring her to move.

Mira held her breath.

Mr. Snuffles stopped ten feet away and settled on his haunches.

Mira extended one hand, fingers curled under like a paw. Just a little closer.

Mr. Snuffles continued to study her with those ridiculously blue eyes.

<Any day now,> the demon prompted.

Mira remained motionless, arm extended, until her shoulder began to burn. Mr. Snuffles turned away. He took two steps before Mira swung her lasso.

The looped climbing rope landed cleanly over the nekomata’s head. Mr. Snuffles jumped, twisting in midair, but that only served to tighten the noose.

“Gotcha,” Mira cheered. To the demon she said, “See, I told you this was a good plan.”

Mr. Snuffles hissed and swiped at the rope, but the fibers held.

<Best take those claws out of commission before he cuts the line.>

Mira moved forward, reeling in the rope as Mr. Snuffles struggled to back away from her.

When Mira was two feet from the nekomata, Mr. Snuffles suddenly sprang into the air again. Mira pulled on the line, but the rope slipped over Mr. Snuffles’s head. When the nekomata’s paws hit the ground, he was half the size he had been when he jumped, and Mira was left holding a limp rope.

The demon laughed. <Slippery fella.>

“Whose side are you on here?” Mira growled.

<Oh, come on. You’ve gotta admire the little . . .> The demon’s words trailed off, along with its laughter.

Mr. Snuffles was changing size again, but this time he was growing. And he was doing it at an alarming rate. His body swelled. His legs became furry tree trunks. Massive white paws sank into the dust. Mr. Snuffles let out another hiss, revealing eight-inch, curved daggers in a mouth that was now roughly five feet above the ground. The sound echoed menacingly off the canyon walls.

Mira stepped back. Sinking into a defensive stance, she dropped the rope and called up her practitioner magic. Energy coursed through her, filling her, ready to be shaped. She channeled the magic into her palms, forming an electrical charge that crackled and danced over her skin. “Looks like we’re gonna have to knock kitty out before we tie him up.”

<Didn’t you promise ViVi you wouldn’t hurt him?>

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

Mr. Snuffles took a swipe at Mira’s head, extending long, thin claws that glinted silver in the sunlight.

Ducking, Mira rolled toward the giant cat’s exposed side and reached out. The white fur was soft as velvet against her fingers. She let loose a bolt of charged magic.

Mr. Snuffles yowled and spun.

Mira jumped over his first white tail as if it were a jump rope . . . only to have the second catch her square in the chest while she was airborne. She flew backward, slamming hard into the canyon wall. Gravel and dust sifted over her, knocked loose by the impact. She blinked and coughed. Her ribs ached. She couldn’t catch her breath. A shadow dropped over her, blotting out the sun. Mira dove to the side, and razor claws raked the red rocks, leaving four deep gouges where Mira had been sitting.

That voltage should have dropped him.

<But it didn’t,> the demon pointed out. <Maybe nekomata are resistant to magical attacks?>

Then let’s try a less direct approach, Mira thought as she scrambled to the center of the widest part of the canyon. Planting her palms against the dusty earth, Mira pictured the canyon floor turning to liquid under Mr. Snuffles.

The nekomata’s massive paws sank beneath the quicksand surface.

Gotcha! Mira reversed her magic, freezing the ground back to solid rock.

Mr. Snuffles growled, then whimpered. The muscles in his legs tensed as he tried to pull free. His twin tails lashed the air.

Mira straightened and brushed the dust off her hands. “There.” She bent to pick up her discarded rope then edged closer to the struggling beast. “Be a good boy, now. We’re going to take you home.”

<Be careful. He can still—>

Mr. Snuffles shrank to the size of a golden retriever. Two-inch claws raked Mira’s arm just above her elbow. She jumped back with a hiss of her own.

Mr. Snuffles bounced when he hit the ground, barely touching the space between the four cavities his previously trapped paws had left before flying toward the canyon wall. He shrank again as he soared, vanishing into a fissure barely the width of Mira’s hand.

Mira stared after the little fuzzball, squinting into the dark crack. She listened, anxious for any sign of another attack. Only her own labored breathing and pounding heart filled her ears. Even the insects were quiet.

<I think he’s gone.>

“Great.” Mira picked at the ragged tears in her sleeve, peeling bloody fabric away from her wounds. They were deep, dirty, and stung like a bitch. “And ViVi was worried about me hurting him?”

<Just be glad he was reasonably sized when he landed that. Otherwise you might have lost the whole arm.> The demon’s energy swelled inside her, knitting flesh in a way she’d never had much talent for with her practitioner magic—another perk of having a demon onboard, though utilizing the demon’s powers too much would require her to feed it sooner.

Dropping the useless rope next to her discarded backpack, Mira sat down with a sigh then flopped onto her back. Staring at the sky she muttered, “That did not go to plan.”

<Maybe that’s because your plan sucked.>

I wish Ty were here. The thought popped into her head, unbidden, and she pushed it away immediately. But it was too late. The demon had heard.

<So you do miss him.>

“I miss the convenience of a partner with a second set of hands,” Mira corrected. “The nekomata got away because I couldn’t cover all the exits.”

<Sure,> the demon said. <You keep telling yourself that.>

Mira folded her hands behind her head. The cuts on her arm tugged uncomfortably, but they were only scratches now. In a few more minutes they’d be gone.

<What do you suppose Ty is up to right now?> the demon asked.

Mira frowned. “Probably sipping champagne in Boston, celebrating a job well done . . . while I’m bleeding in the dirt.”

<He strikes me as more of a beer guy.>

“Bourbon,” Mira said, sitting up. “He likes bourbon.” She flexed her arm. The injury was gone, but her shirt was ruined. Checking the back of her hand, Mira found a good deal of red dirt and a chipped nail, but none of the black veins that meant she’d need to feed the demon soon to avoid manifesting the physical signs of her possession. She exhaled and squinted into the sky. The sun was still high. “We’ll regroup at ViVi’s, then come back with a better plan.”

<A Ty-worthy plan,> the demon agreed.

She stood, brushed ineffectively at the dust turning her clothes red and coating her sweaty skin, then stuffed the rope into her pack. As she trudged back along the narrow passages, alert for any sign of the white furball who’d gotten away, her mind circled back to a single distracting thought: What is Ty doing right now . . . and why didn’t he want me there?