Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Playlist for Etched in Silver
Midwinter Memories from the D’Artigo Sisters
Teaser chapter
Berkley titles by Yasmine Galenorn
Dear Reader:
For those of you new to my books, I wanted to take this opportunity to welcome you into my worlds. For those of you who’ve been reading my books for a while, I wanted to thank you for revisiting the D’Artigo Sisters’ world, once again.
I actually started writing Etched in Silver before Berkley ever offered me the chance to see it in print. I kept getting glimpses of the meeting between Trillian and Camille and decided I wanted to flesh it out—to better understand what makes their relationship work and why they are so bound to one another. I knew they, above all other couples in this series, except for perhaps Delilah and the Autumn Lord, were destined to be together.
After Berkley contracted me for the novella, I was able to focus on it and really flesh out what I had already written. As the story unfolded, I could feel the link grow between the pair and I began to more fully comprehend their dynamic. And I also understood that—as much as Camille can be a romantic—she appreciates the bluntness of her Svartan lover.
Yes, Trillian is arrogant—it’s in his nature, not an affect. But he doesn’t use it against people he cares about, and he’s not quite the typical Svartan. The Svartans in my world are intensely charming and use their abilities to get what they want. While Trillian certainly has done that in the past, and while he is—at heart—a mercenary, Camille captured his love, and he will never deliberately hurt her.
Trillian keeps Camille honest with herself, and—more than any of her three husbands—he’s the one who can call her on bullshit and she’ll listen. She can trust him to be levelheaded about whatever may come. Trillian’s a pragmatist, a realist to his core, and if Camille needs an honest answer, she knows she can turn to him and he’ll tell her the truth.
There was a time, between Etched in Silver and Witchling, when Camille left him—she was more afraid of what might happen than of anything he did, but the bond of their ritual pulled them back together when Trillian showed up at her door in Witchling. As a side note, I would love to write the story of their breakup, knowing what I know now about them and their evolving relationship. I’m not sure if that will happen, but it’s in the back of my mind.
While the focus of this novella was on Camille and Trillian, I also had fun seeing Delilah and Menolly before they came Earthside, though I admit to a bittersweet sadness when I realized this story took place only a few weeks before Menolly was turned into a vampire. It was like viewing the last gasp of summer when you’re the only one who realizes the halcyon days are almost over, and autumn is right around the corner.
I hope that you enjoy Etched in Silver, the story of how Camille and Trillian met. I was thrilled when Berkley opted to release it as a stand-alone novella. As an added bonus, we’re including the first two chapters of Shaded Vision—book eleven in the Otherworld Series—here for your enjoyment. The book will be out on February 7, 2012. I’ve also added the playlist for Etched in Silver, which I could not do in the anthology. And I’ve included a little previously unpublished extra—“Midwinter Memories from the D’Artigo Sisters”—just a few memories from their childhood Yule celebrations. You will find all of these extras at the end of Etched in Silver.
And if you’re one of my Indigo Court readers, I hope you’re looking forward to reading Night Seeker, book three of the Indigo Court Series, which will be available July 2012.
Bright Blessings,
The Painted Panther
Yasmine Galenorn
Berkley titles by Yasmine Galenorn
THE OTHERWORLD SERIES
Witchling
Changeling
Darkling
Dragon Wytch
Night Huntress
Demon Mistress
Bone Magic
Harvest Hunting
Blood Wyne
Courting Darkness
Shaded Vision
THE INDIGO COURT SERIES
Night Myst
Night Veil
ANTHOLOGIES
Inked
Never After
Hexed
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Yasmine Galenorn
Ghost of a Chance
Legend of the Jade Dragon
Murder Under a Mystic Moon
A Harvest of Bones
One Hex of a Wedding
Yasmine Galenorn writing as India Ink
Scent to Her Grave
A Blush with Death
Glossed and Found
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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“Etched in Silver” previously appeared in the anthology Inked, published by The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
ETCHED IN SILVER
A Berkley eSpecial / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley eSpecial / January 2012
Copyright © 2010 by Yasmine Galenorn.
“Dear Reader” letter, “Playlist for Etched in Silver,” and “Midwinter Memories from the D’Artigo Sisters” copyright © 2012 by Yasmine Galenorn. Excerpt from Shaded Vision by Yasmine Galenorn copyright © 2012 by Yasmine Galenorn.
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ISBN : 978-1-101-56505-6
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Without obsession, l
ife is nothing.
—JOHN WATERS
If we can live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.
—JOSS WHEDON (BtVS)
1
THE room was a shade darker than night as I pushed my way through the haze of pungent smoke, trying not to cough. The fragrance of stale wine and decaying lotus blossoms filled the air, cloying and overripe. Noise echoed through the dimly lit room, a cacophony of whispers and laughter, drunken singing and arguments from the gambling tables all rolling into one to give me a supremely bad headache. Yeah, the Collequia was jumping and so were my nerves. I’d had a very long, very bad day, and it wasn’t over yet. Normally, I came here to hang out and play, but tonight was all business.
The hardcore opium eaters were out in full array. My nose twitched. Not only did they smell—think a week’s unwashed sweat and grime—but they were looking for nookie. Check that. They were looking for money, and they’d earn it by giving a woman—or a man—anything she or he wanted. Considering their habits, they’d probably toss in a few extra gifts for free. Disease, lice, fleas . . . all lovely little bundles of joy that I wasn’t interested in acquiring.
The pretty boys crowded around their tables in tight-knit groups, sucking on hookahs, gossiping, eyeing each new person who crossed the door. Oh yeah, they were hungry for money. Opium was a commodity, a pricey one, spurred on by our illustrious queen’s habit, and she set the price point for distributors throughout the city. Selling sex was an easy way to score one more round.
Sometimes I wondered what drew me back to this club time and again, but to be fair, not everybody here was out for the drugs. I’d met a number of friends and lovers here.
I scanned the room, looking for any signs of my quarry. Roche, one of the Veiled Fae, was wanted for rape and murder. He also happened to be a member of the Guard Des’Estar. Or at least he’d been a member till he’d gone bad. Very bad.
When Lathe, my boss at the Y’Elestrial Intelligence Agency, had assigned the case to me I knew one thing: they didn’t think that I had a chance in Hel’s domain of catching him. They always gave me and my sisters the cases they couldn’t solve. That way, they could blame us for ineptitude and save face. And we’d accrue another notch in a long string of botched jobs. Camille D’Artigo at your service—on the fast track to nowhere.
I meandered past a table for six, ignoring the bozos eyeing my boobs. Sawberry Fae, all of them—rough and crude. I couldn’t blame them for looking, though. After all, I was dressed to attract. For one thing, Roche responded to curvy women, so I was playing it up to lure him out. For another, I’d been waiting for a chance to wear my new outfit. Tight, sheer magenta tunic, thin skirt with a slit all the way up my thigh, the barest hint of woven silver panties. I made quite an impression, all right.
So when men stared at my boobs, it was part of the game and I just laughed it off. But the sweaty hand reaching out to cop a feel on my butt crossed the line.
“That’s one step too far, boy.”
The man didn’t budge, his fingers firmly fastened on my ass. “Hey girlie, give me a ride. I promise, I can do amazing tricks with my tongue.”
“I said, back off. I don’t offer pity fucks.” I didn’t pay for it either, and all the opium eaters were looking for was cash for another round.
“The pity would be if you don’t fuck me.” He snorted and squeezed.
Realizing I wasn’t going to get out of this without making some sort of scene, I slid my leg through the slit in my skirt to show off the silver dagger strapped around my thigh. “Remove the fingers from my ass or I’ll ram my stiletto through your crotch and you’ll never use that cock of yours again. Understand?”
He scowled as his buddies laughed, but he let go.
I leaned on the table. “Listen, boys, some of you aren’t half bad. Or you wouldn’t be if your eyes weren’t glazed over and your teeth were a couple of shades closer to white. Clean up your act and get a job.”
Without warning, Mr. Butt-Grabber grabbed my wrist and twisted. Hard. “Bitch. When I want advice from a half-breed, I’ll ask for it.”
“What did you call me?” I couldn’t reach my stiletto—he had my wrist, but he was standing, pressing against me, so I came down hard on his insole with my heel. He yelped and let go. I whipped out my dagger as he knocked over his chair. The dude was a good six-five and muscled, and it took everything I had to stand my ground. “Touch me again and you’ve touched your last woman.”
“Filthy windwalker.” He fumbled for his weapon, but his eyes were so glazed over from the opium that he couldn’t get a good grip on the hilt. I knew the look, though, and it wasn’t a safe one. Junkies were dangerous. “You should be grateful for any attention you get—”
“I suggest you apologize to the lady right now, unless you prefer to make an intimate acquaintance with my blade.”
The voice came from behind the Sawberry. It was smooth and calm, like silk drawn across skin, and set up a vibration in the air that rolled through my senses like a wave. I slowly turned my head to see who was speaking.
The most gorgeous man I’d ever seen was standing there, serrated dagger out, the tip lightly pressed against Mr. Fingers’s ribs. He wasn’t even looking at the Sawberry, but instead, was staring at me—his gaze fastened on my face, not my breasts. His eyes were the coolest shade of blue I’d ever seen. Ice blue. Glacier blue. Blue like a frosty morning in autumn. They stood out against the onyx color of his skin, as did the shock of silver hair that flowed down his back, shining with cerulean highlights. His face, though . . . damn, he was beautiful. More handsome than any man had a right to be, with a refined nose that led narrowly down to thick, luscious lips.
My breath caught in my throat. Touch me, kiss me, hold me, and help me get out of my head.
The Sawberry glanced down at the blade, then at the man holding it and fear flickered in his eyes. He held up his hands. “No harm, no worry,” he said, sitting back down. He swallowed his anger and added softly, “I’m sorry, miss. I won’t bother you again.”
Taken aback by the sudden turnaround, I looked back for the man who had cowed the giant but he’d vanished. Blinking, wondering if I’d imagined the entire incident, I hurried over to the counter.
“Petre bothering you?” Jahn, the bartender, wiped the polished wood in front of me. “He’s harmless enough, though when he’s hurting for another fix, I wouldn’t lay odds on his behavior. I cut them off around dawn. They haven’t paid their tab from last week yet, so they’re probably ready for more.”
“I almost had to cut him, but that man . . . Something about him scared the dude and he stopped right in his tracks. Apologized, too.”
“What man?” Jahn reached for the brandy bottle. I shook my head.
“No brandy tonight.” I looked around the bar, but didn’t see the man who’d come to my aid. “I dunno, I don’t see him now. He just . . . appeared from out of nowhere.” I glanced back at the bottle he was holding. “I’m in the mood for something different. Something a little more . . . exotic.”
Jahn let out a grin. “The day you’re not in the mood for something kinky is the day I close this place down. What’s the matter, Camille? Rough day?”
“Rough week.” I shrugged, scooping up a handful of the torado nuts and popping the salty treats into my mouth.
Lately, my life had been a long string of one bad day after another. My job sucked. I sucked at my job. My father was on my case again about how I was running the house. Hell, I was a Moon witch, member of the Coterie of the Moon Mother, and I worked for the YIA. Between work and Coterie meetings and running with the Hunt, I barely had time to sneeze, let alone help the housekeeper keep things tidy at home. Not only that, but I was worried about my sister Menolly and the new job the agency had assigned to her. It was dangerous—too dangerous, and I had the uneasy feeling they were setting her up for a big fall.
&nbs
p; “What happened?” Jahn tossed the bar rag over his shoulder and rummaged through the bottles on the shelves behind the counter. He held up a clear bottle, filled with a chocolate brown liqueur. “Here, try this. Straight from the Nebelvuori Mountains.”
“Dwarven? Won’t that be a little raw?”
He grinned. “Dwarves may be crude in the bedroom and at the dinner table, but they like their liquor, so the drink should be smooth and rich.”
I actually laughed for the first time in days. “Set me up, babe,” I said, resting my elbows on the counter as I glanced around the bar. Still no sign of Roche. He was supposed to be here. My supervisor had practically guaranteed it. And I had a tight deadline. Find the perv before he struck again.
He shook his head as he filled a small cognac glass. “You use the oddest expressions, Camille. But they fit you somehow.”
“I have my mother to thank for that. She was human, you know, and she kept some ties over Earthside.” And I missed her more than I could ever say. It had been years since she died, but her loss still left a gaping hole in our family that no one could fill, no matter how hard they tried.
“I remember her. She was a lovely woman, with gracious manners. So, you ever think you’ll go Earthside when the portals are finally open to travelers?” Jahn pushed the glass my way and rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes were warm. He was one of the few friends I could count on who really gave a damn about my sisters and me.
I snorted. “Are you kidding? Hell, I have a hard enough time coping with one world, let alone two.” But I lingered over the thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Seeing my mother’s homeworld might help me understand why she’d been the way she’d been. I had a while to think about it, though. The project would take a number of years to complete.