The creature had the form of a tall female with a wingspan large and powerful enough to support her long, flowing muscular form. She was a study in pale and dark grays and black, her lower torso and strong legs covered with short, fine feathers. She had a wide rib cage and chest that supported long flight and fast speeds, high slight breasts and magnificent sooty wings that deepened to midnight toward the primary feathers. Her long hands and feet were tipped with razored lethal talons that could slice through metal or split open a person’s skull with a single swipe, and the lines of her angular face were severe, upswept. In her human form, the Wyr sentinel Aryal had a strange, gaunt beauty. In her harpy form both strangeness and beauty were accentuated, her stormy eyes magnified, and her long black hair moved in the wind as if it had a life of its own.
Duncan blurred past Niniane with his Vampyre’s lethal strength and speed. The harpy picked him up by the neck and slammed him onto the patio so hard the slate tiles underneath him cracked. She held the Vampyre pinned as she inspected him curiously with her piercing raptor’s gaze.
“Hmm, pretty,” said the harpy. She looked up at Niniane. “If you don’t want him, can I have him?”
A confused tangle of emotion roared up inside, gladness mingled with a bitter disappointment. She said, “Aryal, don’t hurt Duncan.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” said Aryal. “Not unless he asked for it.” The Vampyre’s eyes had started to glow red, and his fangs had distended as he strained against Aryal’s powerful grip. The harpy tapped his temple with one curved talon. “That’s even prettier. Dude, you ever taste harpy’s blood? We’re rarer than shit so I’m betting not. Want to go out for a drink sometime? If you put out, I might let you have a sip.”
“Aryal!” Niniane exclaimed.
“What!” The gorgeous winged nightmare blinked at her. “You know how hard it is to get a date in New York.”
The Vampyre looked so confused and aggressive, but at the mention of harpy’s blood, a startled avarice crept into his bloodred gaze.
Niniane started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. “Duncan is a very nice guy. Would you let him go, please?”
“But I’m not done sexually harassing him.” Niniane dipped her chin and glowered at the harpy, who scowled back and grumbled, “Oh all right.”
As soon as Aryal’s grip around his throat loosened, Duncan sprang to his feet and lunged to take a stance between Niniane and the harpy. It was a brave, stupid and totally useless gesture of protection.
Aryal blurred into a Wyr’s shapeshift as she rose to her feet as well. In her more human form, she was a six-foot-tall powerful woman, armed and dressed in leather, with an angular face, lean muscles, tangled black hair and stormy gray eyes. She said to the Vampyre, “You wanna hug it out?” She feinted forward and Duncan jerked back a step. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” She bounced once on the balls of her feet and gave Niniane a feral grin. “Hey, pip-squeak.”
Aryal looked so happy to see her, the pleasure on her odd gaunt face so sincere and uncomplicated, for the moment Niniane’s disappointment that Aryal wasn’t Tiago took a backseat and she was simply glad to see her friend.
Niniane put a hand on the Vampyre’s shoulder and pressed down, silently telling him to stay put as she told him, “You know, Duncan, I have seen this harpy drunk on her ass more than a few times. Once she even—”
“Don’t say it,” Aryal warned.
Niniane grinned. “She even let me put pink lipstick on her and her hair up in pigtails.”
“Traitorous bitch!” Aryal said. “You carp-carp-carped. ‘Lemme just see what you look like, Aryal. C’mon, Aryal, I won’t tell anybody. Five minutes and you can wipe it right off.’ And now what do you do? You tell every freaking body you can every chance you get.”
The Vampyre relaxed only slightly at their banter. He asked, “How did she look?”
“You know how she looked just now when she smacked you down?” Niniane asked.
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”
Niniane started to giggle. “She looked a lot scarier.”
The harpy rolled her eyes. Still laughing, Niniane launched forward. Aryal grabbed her and hauled her in for a tight hug. “How are you doing, pip-squeak? I was awfully proud of how you kicked the shit out of those three Dark Fae assholes, but you gave us quite a scare when you disappeared like that.”
She pressed her cheek against Aryal’s leather vest and her laughter dissolved into a harsh sob. “I’ve had a rotten day.”
“Whoa,” said Aryal. She sounded alarmed. She patted Niniane’s back. “You know how tears freak me out. Who do I have to kill to make it better?”
“I don’t KNOOOOOW.”
Aryal said over her head to the Vampyre, “Go guard the inside of the patio door. Pretend you can’t hear us.”
“Count me deaf and gone,” said Duncan.
Aryal’s hug turned bone-bruising. Niniane tilted her head back. She gasped, “Let go already. I’m not going to cry anymore.”
Wide, worried storm gray eyes looked down at her. “You sure?”
She nodded. Aryal released her and she sucked in a deep breath. She turned to walk back to the patio table and sit. The harpy threw herself into a nearby chair and sprawled, arms crossed and long legs stretched, her piercing gaze fixed on Niniane’s face.