LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I told you. Mostly, we—supers and you naturals—ignore each other. And whatever use preters have for humans, we don’t fill it. None of our people disappeared. So, no, we didn’t notice that your species was disappearing at a faster than usual rate.

      “Not right away, anyway. The dryads...they’ve always been fond of humans. No idea why, but...they like to listen. And they love to gossip. And they heard whispers. Those whispers reached us.”

      Somehow, Jan suspect “us” meant him, AJ. For all his cranky manner—or maybe because of it—he reminded her of her first boss, a guy who’d known everything that was going on in the office, even the stuff they’d tried to keep from him.

      “And then we discovered why. Or rather, how.” Elsa sounded almost...frightened. “The barrier between our worlds shifts, and can be influenced. We knew this, but never cared overmuch about the whys or hows...but the preters cared. Very much so. Before, it required, as AJ said, a natural turn, some conjunction to open a portal large enough to be useful. Now they have discovered a way to...thin the barrier. To create an unnatural portal that they can control, and not depend on the whims of nature or the tides of the moon.”

      “How?”

      “If we knew that...”

      “It’s because of your computers,” Martin burst out.

      “What?” Jan was suddenly lost again—her brain having slowly twisted around the idea of werewolves and trolls and elves, roughly hauled back to technology.

      “Back then, it was all environmental. We could feel when they came into the system, when something shifted. Like an earthquake, or a storm coming in off the ocean; something changed. But it’s been quiet for a long time now. And then the whispers started, and we realized that quiet didn’t mean dormant.”

      “They’re using technology, somehow.” Martin got up and paced this time, while AJ stayed put and continued explaining. “We know that much; once we started looking for it, we can feel it around their portals, the aftermath of them, like a static shock in the universe. It’s the same feeling that hovers around some of your labs, the major scientific ones. CAS, Livermore, CERN, Al-Khalili...” He shrugged, as though knowing all those names was unimportant. “But we don’t understand how. We don’t...that’s something humans do. Technology. Computers. But the preters have figured it out, and it’s giving them access—giving them control of where and when a portal opens.”

      Martin touched her shoulder, drawing her attention. “That’s your world, Jan, not ours. Technology is a human invention. We wouldn’t know where to begin.”

      Jan started to laugh. “So, what, you want me to shut down everyone’s computers? Set off some kind of virus to kill the internet? I can’t, I’m a website tech, not a hacker, I can’t do something like that, and I wouldn’t even if I could!” She worked with tech; she didn’t make it—or break it. Not intentionally, anyway.

      AJ snarled at her, and this time it was a purely human—human-sounding—noise of frustration. “We’re not idiots. No. We can only find them after a portal opens—and that’s too late for us to do any good. We need to find out how they’re using it, learn how to shut it down. The only way to do that is to catch one of them. And the only way to do that is to play their game. But we don’t know what it is.”

      “And you think that I do?”

      “You can help us find out,” Martin said. “We need one of their captives, to find out what was done to them, and how. But they don’t take supers, only humans, and the only thing that can reclaim a human from a preter’s grasp is the call of their heart. Only a mother, or lover, has ever been strong enough. You’re the only one who can save Tyler...and Tyler is the only one who can save the rest of us.”

      Jan officially overloaded. “You’re all insane. This is insane, this is...he wasn’t abducted! He went off with some hot chick, that’s all. He quit his job, just walked away from everything....”

      “Not walked. Was led. The preters...” AJ was reduced to waving a hand at her—his fingers were tipped with short, blunt claws that looked as though they were designed to tear flesh off bone, so it was an effective swipe, making her scoot as far back on the sofa as she could. “Come on, woman, have you read no stories in your entire life?”

      Jan stared at him, utterly at a loss. Then, slowly, the bits she needed surfaced from her memory, taken less from stories than role-playing games and movies, but enough that she began to understand.

      “They seduce,” she said, slowly. “They lure...all of you do. Fairies, and mermaids, and will-o’-the-wisps.... You drag humans off...” Like they had done to her, she thought but didn’t say. Although, really, they’d used less seduction and more strong-arming. Was that better, or worse?

      “Why do you care? Why not just let the preters drag humans off and good riddance? I mean, you’re all—” She waved her hand, as though to say “all the same, not-me, not human.”

      Elsa looked at AJ, who looked at Martin, who looked up at the ceiling. Jan followed his gaze, as though there might be an answer. All she saw was a tangle of cables and industrial lights, most of which had burned out and not been replaced.

      Something was going on that she wasn’t privy to, that they didn’t want her to know about. Jan opened her mouth to demand an answer when AJ cut her off.

      “We’re not going to pretend to be saints,” he said. “But humans have a history of bad behavior, too, and they tend to use more violence. So let’s just call the past the past, okay? Like I said, we all belong here. We’re part of this world. So we have to deal with each other, even if dealing looks a lot like ignoring.

      “That’s the difference. A thousand years of history show that preters don’t deal, they don’t compromise. This isn’t their place, it’s a...a storeroom they can raid. They don’t care about you, or us, or anything except themselves and what they want—and whatever they want? It’s bad for us. All of us.”

      Jan shook her head. “You still haven’t given me any reason to trust you. How do I know that anything you’ve told me is true? You could be lying, this could all be some giant, impossible, stupid sick joke....”

      The tickle in her throat got worse, and her chest closed up, the warning signs of an asthma attack kicking in. Too much dust in the warehouse, and with her luck she was allergic to supernaturals. She grabbed her inhaler, hitting it hard until things eased again. Two in one day: that wasn’t good.

      Martin got up, shoving AJ aside and going down in a crouch next to Jan.

      “Are you all right?”

      What do you care, she wanted to retort, but the concern in his face was real, or looked real, anyway. His black-tinted nails glinted even in the dimmer light of the warehouse, and Jan thought of the tar-black hooves of his pony-form.

      She waited until she could breathe normally, then shook her head. “Asthma. It sucks, but I’m okay. That’s not nail polish, is it?”

      He ignored the question. “Jan. I’m not going to ask you to trust us. Trust is earned. But believe us.”

      His voice was smooth and soft, especially after Elsa’s granite rumble and AJ’s growl. More, his touch was soothing, his hands on her bare arms, stroking down from elbow to wrist. The sensation eased the pressure in her chest even more, as if it was enhancing the drugs in her system. If so, she wanted to bottle that touch and make a fortune selling it.

      “We’re selfish and we’re secretive, but I swear, on the river I was born to, I swear this: everything we’ve told you is true.”

      Jan’s practical side fought its way through. Preters seduced. But so did supernaturals. The way he touched her... “Tyler was taken by elves?” Her voice was too high, as if she’d sucked helium instead of albuterol.

      “I know what you’re thinking. That that’s crazy. Too crazy. You can

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