Flight From Death

  Praise for the Otherworld novels

  “Yasmine Galenorn creates a world I never want to leave.”

  —Sherrilyn Kenyon, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Erotic and darkly bewitching . . . a mix of magic and passion.”

  —Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author

  “Yasmine Galenorn is a hot new star in the world of urban fantasy.”

  —Jayne Ann Krentz, New York Times bestselling author

  “Yasmine Galenorn is a powerhouse author; a master of the craft who is taking the industry by storm, and for good reason!”

  —Maggie Shayne, New York Times bestselling author

  “Spectacularly hot and supernaturally breathtaking.”

  —Alyssa Day, New York Times bestselling author

  “Simmers with fun and magic.”

  —Mary Jo Putney, New York Times bestselling author

  “Yasmine Galenorn’s imagination is a beautiful thing.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Galenorn’s gallery of rogues is an imaginative delight.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Pulls no punches . . . [and] leaves you begging for more.”

  —Bitten by Books

  “It’s not too many authors who can write a series as long-lived as this one and make every book come out just as interesting and intriguing as the last, but Yasmine Galenorn is certainly one of them . . . Her books are always enchanting, full of life and emotion as well as twists and turns that keep you reading long into the night.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Explore this fascinating world.”

  —TwoLips Reviews

  “As always, [Galenorn] delivers intriguing characters, intricate plot layers, and kick-butt action.”

  —RT Book Reviews ()

  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

  SHADOW RISING

  HAUNTED MOON

  AUTUMN WHISPERS

  CRIMSON VEIL

  PRIESTESS DREAMING

  PANTHER PROWLING

  The Indigo Court Series

  NIGHT MYST

  NIGHT VEIL

  NIGHT SEEKER

  NIGHT VISION

  NIGHT’S END

  Anthologies

  INKED

  NEVER AFTER

  HEXED

  Specials

  ICE SHARDS

  ETCHED IN SILVER

  THE SHADOW OF MIST

  FLIGHT FROM HELL

  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

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  FLIGHT FROM DEATH

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2015 by Yasmine Galenorn.

  Excerpt from Autumn Thorns by Yasmine Galenorn copyright © 2015 by Yasmine Galenorn.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY® and the “B” logo are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  For more information, visit penguin.com.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-14191-9

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley mass-market edition / July 2015

  Cover art by Tony Mauro.

  Cover design by Rita Frangie.

  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.

  Version_1

  Dedicated to

  Samwise, again. My greatest cheerleader.

  CONTENTS

  Praise for the Otherworld novels

  Also by by Yasmine Galenorn

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Acknowledgments

  Letter from the Author

  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

  The Playlist

  A special excerpt from Autumn Thorns

  Revenge doesn’t stop.

  —DANIEL CRAIG

  Love is like a war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.

  —H. L. MENCKEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to thank my usual suspects here: Samwise, my husband, whose support means more than anything to me. I couldn’t ask for a more caring, loving partner. I want to thank my assistants, Andria and Jennifer, for keeping me on track; my editor, Kate Seaver; and my agent, Meredith Bernstein, for believing in my work. Throughout the vagaries of this industry, they have all been so much help.

  Tony Mauro, my incredible cover artist¸ deserves his due—his art matches my vision of my characters so incredibly well. Rita Frangie and the Berkley art department always does a lovely job on my cover designs. Together, they put into vision what I see in my mind when I’m writing.

  To my spiritual guardians: Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, and Rauni. My devotion, always. To my Galenorn furbabies: Calypso, Morgana, Brighid, and our new little Apple. And to the memory of my beloved Meerclar, Keeter, Tara, and Luna—I wish so much they could all be with me forever. My cats keep me smiling through the dark times, and the hard times.

  And most of all, I want to take a moment to acknowledge how much you, my readers, mean to me. Your continued support and your willingness to take a chance on my new books—and especially, on the new series I write—means so much to me, as do your kind words on my blog, Facebook, and via e-mail.

  Dear Reader:

  I welcome you to my new Fly by Night Series. While it is a spinoff of Otherworld, this series can be read on its own. I had so much fun exploring the world of Alex and Shimmer in this book, and I am eager to see how this series develops and grows. I hope you have as much fun reading this book as I did writing it, and that you take the characters to heart as much as some of you have taken my other series to heart. Flight from Mayhem, the second book, will be out in July 2016.

  The inspiration for the plot came when I was visiting Port Townsend with my husband. A beautiful town tucked away on the Olympic Peninsula, Port Townsend is rich with history—and the area is also rich in ghostly lore. As Samwise and I were eating l
unch on the beach (the town is situated along the Strait of Juan de Fuca), I suddenly imagined Shimmer diving into the waters off the coast. And when we visited the abandoned military battery there, I could see the area being ripe for a ghost story. So I hope you enjoy Flight from Death, and stick around for Alex and Shimmer’s further adventures.

  Next up, this autumn, on October 27, 2015, you’ll get to read Autumn Thorns, the first book in yet another new series I’m writing. In the back of Flight from Death, you’ll find an excerpt of Autumn Thorns, the first book in the Whisper Hollow series, which follows the story of Kerris Fellwater, a spirit shaman who attempts to put the dead to rest. Kerris returns to her hometown of Whisper Hollow, Washington, after her grandparents die and leave her their home. Located near Lake Crescent on the Olympic Peninsula, Whisper Hollow is a town where spirits walk among the living and the lake never gives up her dead. And not only do monsters hide in the shadows, but so do secrets of the heart, and love can be as dangerous as anything else that lurks in the dark.

  In February 2016, we’ll return to Otherworld with Darkness Raging—book eighteen of the Otherworld Series.

  For those of you new to my books, I hope you enjoy your first foray into my worlds. For those of you who have followed me for a while, I want to thank you for taking a chance on my new series. Check my website, galenorn.com, for information on my newsletter, short stories, release info, and links to where you can find me on the Web.

  Bright Blessings,

  The Painted Panther

  Yasmine Galenorn

  CHAPTER 1

  “Hurry up, damn it! Get a move on, woman!” Alex shoved me toward the stairwell and jammed the door by shoving a wooden wedge beneath it, but that would only buy us a little time.

  “I’m trying, but the camera’s stuck!” I yanked on the strap, which had gotten caught in the door as we’d beat a hasty retreat from the apartment where we had been spying. We couldn’t afford to lose the camera—we needed the pictures on it. Not to mention, if I lost it, the cost for a replacement would come out of my salary. I wasn’t about to leave it behind.

  “Oh for cripes sake, Shimmer. Just cut the bloody straps! For the love of . . .” Alex grabbed the straps out of my hand and yanked out Juanita, his trusty big-assed bowie knife. The blade glittered dangerously in the dim light. He sliced through the leather bands like they were butter, and bingo, the camera came free in my hands. I managed not to play fumble-fingers and drop it as we continued to beat a hasty departure. Someone was pounding on the door behind us, but we knew who was on the other side, and we weren’t about to let him in because he wanted to do really bad things to us at the moment.

  “Get your ass down to the parking garage.” Alex bared his fangs, looking pissed out of his mind as he shoved me toward the stairs. I didn’t protest, just raced down the steps with the vampire following.

  We made it to the third level of the garage and piled into Alex’s sedan that he used for stakeout work. As he revved the engine and we swung out of the parking spot, the door to the garage slammed opened and Jackaboy Jones came barreling out, his eyes glowing. He wasn’t alone. His pack of good ole boys followed. They were shifting into wolf form even as we managed to swerve toward the exit. With the wolves racing behind us, we hit the streets of Seattle.

  Lucky for us, it was two A.M. and there was no traffic to speak of. Alex made a sharp right turn at the intersection and we left Jackaboy in the dust, his cronies now gathered behind him.

  I let out a long sigh and leaned my head against the seat. “That was close.”

  Alex grinned at me. “Not really, love.” He still had a slight Australian accent, even though he’d been over in the U.S. for almost a century. It was charming, in a boyish sort of way. “I’ve been in far tighter straits. We have the pictures and that’s what counts. His wife will be able to press ahead in her case, we’ll get paid, and we have one more divorce notched on our belts.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, he began to whistle. “But next time you get the urge to wear a pair of stilettos on a case, maybe rethink the idea? I’m not advocating Birkenstocks, but . . .” He laughed and held up the broken heel from my sandals. It had come off on the stairs and I’d left it, but apparently Alex had noticed.

  I had known better than to wear heels, but the truth was, I had been feeling a little blah and wanted to at least look good. Blushing, I tried to hide my embarrassment. “You’re a dick, you know that?” I didn’t really mean it, but I had to say something.

  He just laughed again. “Oh, sweet pea, I’ve known that for years. I’ll grow on you. See if I don’t.” He switched on the MP3 player and AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” came blaring out. As we headed back to the office, I couldn’t help but think that he was already growing on me, too much for my own good.

  • • •

  “Holy fuck, what the hell are they doing in there?” I grimaced as another crash interrupted my conversation with Bette. We were eating lunch—well, what passed for lunch. It was midnight. But since our office hours were 8:30 P.M. to 5:30 A.M., this counted as our noon meal.

  Bette sat behind the receptionist’s counter of the Fly by Night Magical Investigations Agency. A fine gray marble veined with rich gunmetal, the counter stood between the back office and the waiting room. Bette was our official meet-and-greeter, and as unconventional as she was, people liked her. She netted us a number of new clients just by the way she welcomed them when they came through the door. Something to do with pheromones, she said.

  I sat beside her, counting the crashes. “That’s how many? Five?” The sound of breaking glass and raised voices would have alarmed me and sent me running into Alex’s office if I hadn’t known who was in there with him.

  Bette cackled. “Four. Something’s got her knickers twisted, that’s for sure. I haven’t heard them go at it like this for a long time. In fact, this may be the worst fight they’ve had. Maybe if we’re lucky, she’ll leave for good.”

  “That’s not nice.” I tried to look stern but ended up giggling. “I admit, that would be a relief. Would certainly be quieter around here, for sure.”

  “When did I ever claim to be nice?” The older woman—well, she looked like an older woman, even though she didn’t act it—grinned and winked at me. “Glenda’s a real bitch when she gets worked up, and she doesn’t like me. She gets worked up over little things a lot. Though lately, the fights have been nastier and more frequent.”

  She leaned over her plate and enthusiastically bit into the hamburger. Dripping with bacon grease and secret sauce, the sandwich smelled wonderful, and the look on the Melusine’s face told me just how much she enjoyed it. We had that in common, at least. Snake shifters and dragons both were major carnivores. There, though, any resemblance ceased.

  Bette was a sight, with her long gray hair curled into a bouffant and eyes the color of green leaves with sunshine sparkling on them. She routinely dressed like a biker mama. Today she had on skintight jeans, a glittering gold belt, a spandex V-neck T-shirt stretched so tightly over her ample boobs that the material looked ready to tear, and a pair of Doc Martens. All that was missing was a leather jacket, and that was hanging on the back of her chair. At least she didn’t smoke while she was eating—that would have killed my appetite.

  We made quite the pair. When I’m in my human form I’m short enough for my kind—only six feet tall, with long black hair streaked with blue and purple. The streaks are natural, not dye. My eyes are the same royal blue, leading to a lot of people asking, “Do you wear colored contacts?” It’s easier to just say yes. Add to that I’m strong and muscled, and—like Bette—I have big boobs, and I get a lot of interesting looks and a few too many hands I have to slap.

  As I finished my fish and chips, another crash split the air. This time it was followed by Alex shouting, and Glenda shouting right back at him. The argument was escalating, all right. Apparently it had reached flash point because the door to his office slammed open and the succubus came storming out, as
fast as her form-fitting pleather skirt would allow her to walk. She glanced over at us, glowering.

  “Don’t say a fucking word, either one of you bitches. At least I don’t have to pretend to be polite to you anymore.” And then she barreled out the door, shattering the glass window as she slammed it shut behind her.

  “Well, then. I guess she told us. I’ll clean that up after we finish our lunch.” Bette arched one eyebrow, then glanced over at the door to Alex’s office. “Wonder if he’s alive in there, or if he took a direct hit.”

  “You think we should go see?” I followed her gaze, staring at the silent door.

  Bette shook her head. “No. Give it time.”

  Alex peered around the corner of the heavy steel door. “She gone?” The twinkle that usually sparkled in those frosty eyes was absent, replaced with a clouded scowl. This wasn’t the first time the pair had fought up a storm, but tonight something felt different.

  Bette nodded, licking her fingers. “Sure is, precious. I’ll get a broom and dustpan after I finish my lunch.” She paused. “You all right, Alex?”

  He shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Fine. But keep an eye out. Glenda is persona non grata from here on out. I don’t want her coming in and torching the joint—her temper’s worse than mine and she believes in revenge.”

  “You two on the outs?” Bette lowered her voice, speaking cautiously. Vampires were scary dudes when they were angry. Even to a snakeshifter and—even to me.

  “For good. We’re done.”

  As he turned to disappear back into his office, I wanted to ask what had happened but took my clue from Bette and kept my mouth shut about it.

  Before he could vanish behind the door, Bette cleared her throat. “Just a second there, sweet cheeks. A call came in while you and Miss Prissypants were occupied. Patrick Strand needs to talk to you.”

  Alex froze. He was about my height—six feet—and had wheat-colored hair that was always lightly tousled. It reached his shoulders, and a stubble of beard covered his chin. His eyes were frosty gray, and he was fit, with a fine spread of pecs and abs. I knew that from seeing him without his shirt a couple times. The fact that I wouldn’t mind seeing him without his shirt again was a thought I tried to keep to myself. Alex was a vampire. And he happened to be my boss. He owned and ran the Fly by Night Magical Investigations Agency, and I had been assigned to him for a five-year stint, so I did my best to keep on his good side, even when he drove me up the wall. I didn’t have a choice.