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Crimson Veil

Otherworld - 15

by

Yasmine Galenorn

Dedication

Dedicated to:

Diana Terranova

One of my loyal readers, who is as dedicated to wiping out diabetes as I am.

She made a sizable donation to Brenda Novak’s Annual Online Auction for Diabetes Research for this dedication, and she has my gratitude and respect for her participation.

Bright Blessings, Diana. You deserve them. Yasmine Galenorn

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to all my usual suspects: Samwise, my number one fan and the best husband I could hope for. My agent, Meredith Bernstein. My editor, Kate Seaver. Tony Mauro, my cover artist. My personal assistant, Andria Holley; my fan mail assistant and Street Team leader, Jenn Price; and my social media assistant, Marc Mullinex. To my furry “Galenorn Gurlz. ” Most reverent devotion to Ukko, Rauni, Mielikki, and Tapio, my spiritual guardians.

If you write to me via snail mail (see my website for the address or write via the publisher), please enclose a stamped, self-addressed envelope with your letter if you would like a reply. Lots of fun promo goodies are available. See my site for info.

The Painted Panther

Yasmine Galenorn

Epigraph

War does not determine who is right—only who is left.

BERTRAND RUSSELL

In war, there is no substitute for victory.

DOUGLAS MACARTHUR

Map

Chapter 1

The sky was clear for once, though rain was forecast before morning. The moon glimmered, her faint sliver shining down over the cemetery. Soon she would be new, dark and hiding her face. A steady flurry of gusts shook the trees, their boughs shaking like tall sentinels sounding the alarm. It was the perfect night for a funeral.

We were gathered at the Seryph Point Cemetery, around the open grave. A small group we were, there to send our friend off to the afterlife. There was me, Menolly, and my wife, Nerissa. My sisters, Camille and Delilah, stood beside us. Derrick Means—my bartender. And Tavah, Digger, and Kendra—all from the Wayfarer. Chase had joined us, as had Mallen. We had asked the guys to stay home and keep watch over the house. As I said, we were a small group, but everyone in attendance had cared. Everyone was there because they wanted to be.

Chrysandra’s casket rested in front of us, over the grave on the device that would lower her into the earth forever-more. Her body would return to the Mother, even as we consigned her soul to the long nights of eternity. At the service—which we’d held in our house—Morio and Shade had worked their magic to seal her body in her grave. Nothing save the most powerful necromancer could ever raise Chrysandra’s remains. She’d be free from the threat of being raised as a zombie. She’d never come back as one of the undead. Her soul was long gone and her body would undergo its natural breakdown, undisturbed from the machinations of sorcery.