E.T. scooted into the room without knocking. As if sensing her sister’s position she joined her under the cot, covering her head with her hands.

A thunderstorm in the middle of the night? In Portland? We rarely get more than distant rumbles over the mountains.

A tree cracked. The splintering sounded long and angry, worse than fingernails on a blackboard. Then the thud of a tree branch crashed against the ground.

“Don’t hurt me,” Phonetia pleaded.

I lay down beside the girls under the cot, pulling them close. “It’s okay,” I whispered over and over.

We clung together. Their fingers tightened on my arms like vines twining and clinging to a cliffside, desperate to survive in the harsh environment.

Then the wind came up, howling overhead like a frustrated banshee. It competed for dominance with the near continuous thunder and the hail against the roof.

This must be akin to what drove Raquel and JJ to accept shelter from the Nörglein. If the dark elf caused the storm, why didn’t he bother putting JJ into a trance and transforming himself to look like Raquel’s husband?

Because he’d put all his energy into the storm. He had nothing left for his usual chicanery.

Allie crept in and joined us on the floor all huddled together.

“He can’t keep it up for long,” I reassured the girls as well as myself. “He’s hurt and sick. This has to pass soon.”

The next hour felt like an eternity. We trembled as fiercely as the building. More trees fell. Wind and rain lashed the windows as if trying to break them for easy entrance to my home.

And then as quickly as it came, the storm abated. Just like a two year old packing up his toys and hiding in his room after a temper tantrum. Of course he had to slam the door on his way out.

One last boom, crash, and flash, followed by a torrent of hail that lasted thirty endless seconds.

“What was that all about?” Allie asked with shaking chin and darting glances. “That one was worthy of Dorothy’s trip to Oz.”

“I think Father found out where we are,” Phonetia said.

“That is one mean bastard,” Allie grunted. “Glad we got you away from his clutches when we did.”

“Did one of the gang bangers with a demon tat get away to inform him?” I asked. I crawled to my knees and dusted off my jeans. I really needed to clean in here.

Allie stared through the window, looking backward through her memory. Her fingers flexed as she counted bodies. “Tall, blond guy, maybe twenty-four, gold chains on his neck, one with a pendant to match his tattoo.” She looked up again almost as if emerging from a trance.

“He ... he’s the leader of Father’s minions,” E.T. said quietly.

“And I bet he reported everything to the dark elf. He might have followed us home,” I sighed. “You girls okay to go back to bed by yourselves? I need to make some phone calls and do some serious thinking.”

“I ... I guess,” Phonetia mumbled.

“I’ll tuck you in and stay with you till you fall asleep,” Allie offered. “Has Tess talked to you about your new names?”

She herded them out of the office like an overprotective border collie.

I reached for my cell phone. The power surge had wiped out the landline.

I flopped awake, not sure where I was, what was happening, why my ears hurt.

The phone, babe. Answer the phone, Scrap reminded me.

His voice inside my head rattled the right synapses. I plucked the phone off the cradle, dropped it, fumbled it up again, and mumbled something into it upside down.

Lights blazed around me. The digital clock on the desk blinked red numerals showing a few minutes after twelve. The power had come back on and the phone lines had been restored only moments ago.

Then I fully opened my eyes and glimpsed the time on my cell phone beside the landline. Four in the damn morning. Who in the hell had the audacity to call now?

My heart went into overdrive. Dad! Something was wrong with my father.

“I was thinking about calling you. Then I returned from a party and found your voice mail,” Lady Lucia chuckled. “Is this a bad time, cara mia?”

I flipped the phone around, the better to hear her phony Italian accent.

“I have to be up in two hours and I just got to sleep.”

“Sleep is overrated. We can sleep when we are dead.”

“Does that mean I get to kill you and all the Kajiri demons who cross my path?” I wasn’t feeling friendly at the moment.

Lucia laughed loudly. I could just picture her throwing back her head, tossing her long blonde—artificial—tresses into the desert wind, and exposing her vulnerable neck.

A challenge.

Then I had to remind myself, she never allowed herself to become vulnerable, even if she let you think she was.

“So what were you going to call me about?” I asked on a yawn.

“I will be in Portland at the end of next month, cara, we must talk.”

“Fine. We can meet for coffee at high noon at Waterfront Park.” Lady Lucia could tolerate sunlight as well as any human, even though it didn’t suit the persona she projected to intimidate friends and enemies alike.

She laughed again. This time when she spoke, she ditched the thick Italian accent. Only a hint of her southern French Alpine origins leaked through now. “Why did you call, Tess? You usually avoid me unless you are in dire trouble.”

“Thank you once again for helping clean up the mess of my mother’s murder,” I said graciously.

“And . . .?”

“And I’ve just adopted two daughters of a Nörglein elf. I thought you might have some pointers ...”

“Nörglein? Did you say Nörglein? Impossible. They are extinct. I killed the last of them myself.” She sounded affronted. “The nasty elf tried to coerce me into exchanging sex for safe passage through my own forest.”

“One got away.” Now I wanted to laugh.

“Impossible.”

“Explain that to the nasty bugger, hiding in my forest, who preys on women hikers or binds males while he seduces their wives in their forms.”

“Don’t worry about him. They breed in cycles. One child, maybe two. Then none again for a hundred years. That way people forget about him and don’t hunt him down.” She suppressed a yawn.

“Not this guy. We’re up to six, maybe seven rapes in the last year. I’ve got the two girls from his previous rampage about fifty years ago. They look to be twelve and fourteen.”

“Impossible.” She didn’t sound so sure. “Nörglein only sire sons. And if these girls look like teenagers then they are teenagers. The longevity gene doesn’t kick in for half-breeds until after puberty.”

“But ... but there are no reports at all of lost hikers in Forest Park ten to fifteen years ago. If five hikers got lost in the same area in a three year period, someone would have noted it.”

“They might have noted it, but did they report it? Hm? Listen, cara, this news troubles me greatly. Your elf’s genes are breaking down. He should have one son in his care. No daughters. Only one son. You say he is raising five teens and siring half a dozen more? Something is terribly wrong. I will take the next available flight. I’ll call from the airport when I get in. Ciao.”

She hung up without further explanation.

I had a feeling I should alert someone of her coming. Like Donovan. But I wasn’t speaking to him at the moment. Maybe Gollum. No. Not yet. I needed time away from him. Time to forget how much I loved him so that I could move on with Sean.

A wicked chuckle erupted from deep inside. Sean would love to meet a vampire. Even if she was a fake.

Better dig out the hair comb, Scrap said. He sat on the edge of the desk, idly swinging his bandy legs and fluttering his wings. You want to watch Lucy’s aura when she arrives.

“I hate wearing the thing. It turns my hair brittle and gives me a headache.”

The phone rang again.

“Tess, one more thing,” Lady Lucia said without preamble. “I’ve heard rumors of a crystal ball of pure beryllium surfacing. A special crystal ball with power. If you find it, do not under any circumstances let the elf get his hands on it.”

“Why?” I asked suspiciously. I looked to Scrap to see if he could enlighten me.

“Later. Ciao.” She hung up on me again.

“I guess if you’re the vampire crime boss of Las Vegas you don’t have to exercise manners.”

Allie rolled over on the sofa and grumbled something about too much noise.

Would the girls eat cereal? Or did they prefer eggs and hash browns? What about pancakes and waffles? If they didn’t get up soon and give me some ideas we were all going to get toasted peanut butter and jelly.

My alarm over my dad made me wonder if I should call him. No, he’d be worried about me if I called outside my Monday morning routine.

A squeak from the bedroom roused my curiosity.

“Would you girls shut up and go to sleep!” Allie yelled. “All night they’ve been grunting and moaning. All night long.” She pulled her pillow over her head.

The squeak came again. It sounded like tree limbs sawing against each other in a high wind.

“That’s not teenage girls being brats!” I dashed down the hall to the bedroom. Why hadn’t I heard this earlier?

“What?” Allie asked. She came up behind me, both hands wrapped around the grip of her revolver. Weapon carefully at her side.

“Phonetia? E.T?” I asked as I tapped on the door.

The muffled squeak came again, this time I caught a hint of desperation behind it.

“Scrap, what’s happening?”

Heck if I know. The other side of the door, it doesn’t like ... exist, he slurred. Then he hiccuped.

The fine hairs along my spine stood on end and my scar pulsed. Something was definitely wrong.

“If I go charging in there will I step into another dimension?” Like the Nörglein home world?

Unknown. If this is elf guy’s work, he shouldn’t be able to hide from me. Not unless ... not unless ... Back in a moment, babe, I’m gonna check on the crystal ball. He flew off in a drunken swoop.

“What did he say?” Allie’s question masked the pop of displaced air as Scrap went elsewhere.

“Proceed with extreme caution. And put that thing down before you shoot someone with it. I don’t think the gun will help against a forest elf. Otherworldly hide is impervious to bullets.”

Allie responded by raising the gun and aiming it over my shoulder. “Open the door very slowly,” she whispered. “If I need to shoot, you hit the floor.”

“Okay.” I drew out the word into about five uneasy syllables.

I turned the doorknob slowly. It moved easily, unlatched. A push from one finger opened it. The hinges creaked like the sound effects of a haunted house.

Different from the weak sounds coming from within the room.

Okay. Now I knew something strange was going down. My faucets didn’t drip, my drawers didn’t stick, and my hinges definitely didn’t squeak. I made sure of that during the long hours of writer’s block, insomnia, and depression over the last year.

Thick, Stygian blackness greeted me. The air felt so gelatinous and damp I could almost push it aside. It smelled of damp earth, fecund with growing things. A sharp chill redolent of fir needles and holly berries caressed my face.

Let’s explore. Scrap dove back into this reality. Whee! This is better than Disneyland! he chortled as he thrust the magical comb into my hair. Come on, Tessie, nothing to fear in here. It’s all just a big blank nothingness filled with worms and bats. Oops, not supposed to talk about bats around you. Sorry, dahling, but one of them is just so cute and he’s playing coy with his wings. What a flirt.

“Scrap, have you been drinking?” I planted my feet firm and solid, like a deep-rooted oak.

“Imp bane,” I snarled. We’d run into that nasty trick before. Seems that when mistletoe, ivy, and holly are knotted together in an arcane but very specific pattern, it blocks imps’ senses and prevents them from transforming into Celestial Blades.

No wonder I hadn’t known what went on in this room. With Scrap blocked, so was I.

But now that I wore the comb, I caught three separate heat signatures. One was shifting about restlessly; the other two were still and recumbent.

Gathering my courage, I thrust my hand into the inky blackness and found the light switch in the usual place to the right of the door. One flip and the room sprang to light with too vivid colors and too sharp definition to each object. I saw auras everywhere; but none so vivid as around my daughters.

My girls lay on the bed, stripped to their bark and bound hand and foot with their own pajamas.

Standing over them, wearing his traditional ensemble of green coat, buff breeches, and a green tricorn hat, a thorned whip in his hand, eyes glowing demon embers, stood their father, the last of the Nörglein elves.

He must have crept in through the French doors during the storm and hidden until we all slept.

“About time you showed up, girlie. I thought you were dead the way you clung to sleep. Now you’ll learn what happens to those who steal my property.”

He turned and flicked the whip into my face.